‘Once upon a time, there was a tale whispered in the woods. It was a cruel legend, one that spoke about betrayal and injustice; of wicked gods and a girl.
Her name was murmured between the Gods with hassle and at times pure rage. She was looked down from Above with coldness and alleged disregard and from the Underworld with hatred and great envy.
Both parties shared a growing desire for her disappearance: they wanted to erase her name from history.
“Who do you believe you are, fool child? Do you feel like a young God, unworthy usurper?” they spitted out from their gilded thrones.
Nonetheless, their words were just a candle in the wind, a frail bickering that couldn’t erode her will and life purpose.
She was given a name at the beginning of times: Hecate.
She was a Goddess among Gods, the Three Faced, the Guardian of crossroads, She that operates from afar and She who works her will. She who maintains the equilibrium between the worlds.
She was the girl that walked between worlds and their rightful warden, mighty protector of humanity and Earth.
She who holds the power, bound to be alone until the end of the universe.
But who could dethrone such power?
The hungry Gods had been planning her demise for a long time and the girl knew. They had gathered together, combining the powers of the Underwold and the Above, sentencing the end of her queendom.
The Young God knew that gruelling times were to come upon humanity, so she acted quickly.
Unbeknownst to the Hungry Gods, she abandoned her throne -forged by the shiny stones of infinite moons- for the first time in millenia. Unbeknownst to them, she descended on Earth.
She couldn’t leave her beloved world without the strength to fight back.
She came to Earth and took a mortal as her groom, gifting him and their children with a flame of her powers.
Slowly and steadily, that flame burst into thousands of fires that built a sacred shield against the direct manipulation of Light and Darkness.
When the Gods discovered the deed, they were furious.
They took her away and killed her beloved, but they could never take her children, daughter and sons of Earth. Some stories tell how she cried as his groom was brutally murdered before her eyes, others how her rage was felt even in the darkest pits of the Underworld.
Although many tales were spread among humans, no one never knew the truth.
Hecate was stoic when they stripped her off the throne, her head held high as they condemn her immortal soul in an endless limbo. The Hungry Gods raised their ornate cups victoriously.
The Usurper Goddess was dead.
Oh, but what a terrible error to take a mother away from her children. Her glorious legacy never forgot.
And to these days, they still walk on Earth, worshipping Hecate as their only Goddess.
They call themselves witches and warlocks.’
“Hecate, the Goddess of Witchcraft, mother of us all” used to tell her grandmother at the end of story, sliding one hand through her hair softly.
“So tell me, foolish girl, do you feel like a young god?” asked the mocking voice in the dark.
“Do you feel like a young god, Mallory?” questioned another husky voice, before Mallory was engulfed by the darkness around her.
BODY AND SOUL Part 1 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)
BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST
Author’s Note: This is basically a Millory AU/Alternate Universe where Cody’s character Duncan from HOUSE OF CARDS meets a version of Mallory/Billie. I might eventually tie it into some kind of reincarnation arc/parallel AHS universe? Her name is Mackenzie Stone and I’ll illuminate more on who she is in time regarding her HoC character, but for all intents and purposes she is Mallory/Billie and Duncan is Michael/Cody. Part 1 is their fortuitous first night together. There is gonna be a LOT of smut in this fic, it’ll be some light plotty stuff but mostly them fucking on everything and looking super hot and dreaming about ripping each other’s clothes off in rooms full of important people. And a lot of stuff about their clothes. But mostly them touching each other with aching fingers and fucking. Please leave me feedback if you like it! Writing this was a big deal for me; it’s the longest bit of fiction I’ve written in a long time and the project will be the realization of an important goal for me this year.
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I send my soul through time and space. To greet you. You will understand.
--James Elroy Flecker, from To A Poet A Thousand Years Hence, 1910.
Love can be scary; not because of heartbreak or being left, but because it can consume you all at once. It’ll spread in your veins like the poison of a snake; it’s unstoppable and only when it’s too late, you’ll find yourself drowning in it. It’ll intrude your daily life, step by step until you find that love is everywhere you may go or look or even listen to. It’ll haunt you at night; in the morning; every time of the day, there’s no escape. Love will make you fear the person that has sparked this mess inside of you; overwhelming you with waves of emotions which will bring you to your knees. But in all of this, you’ll recognize the sensation of happiness, you’ll love the weakness and inability to control it. At some point you’ll crave it so much, that you’ll face your fear and walk to the other side of it - right into the arms of your loved one. And that’s when you know; love is just a hurricane that demands for you to face your fears.
--s.m.
The other morning I heard a woman on the radio describe her art, enormous conceptual installations that involve manipulations of breath and light. As she was explaining her process, this artist used a phrase I'd never heard before: "thin places." It's a Celtic concept, one that stems from an old proverb that says, "Heaven and earth are only three feet apart, but in the thin places that distance is even smaller." In thin places, the folklore goes, the barrier between the physical world and the spiritual world wears thin and becomes porous. Invisible things, like music or love or dead people or God, might become visible there, or if they don't become visible they become so present and tangible that is doesn't matter. Distinctions between you and not-you, real and unreal, worldly and otherworldly, fall away.
The original thin places were wild landscapes because the idea was born in the heaths of Connemara, a place that's so austere and ancient, so full of twists and hiding places and divots a thousand years old, that it seems somehow likely you might poke a hole through to another reality. But the radio lady said that the delight of thin places was the unpredictability of their location. You can find them someplace with magic written all over it, like Connemara or the Himalayas, but they also pop up in dive bars, bedrooms, hospital rooms. They can appear and disappear.
--Thin Places, Jordan Kisner.
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Duncan let the wine glass hang limply from between the crook of his fingers. Even drinking felt boring among these dull people. He stared off into the night, leaning on the ledge, imagining dropping the glass down onto the head of an unsuspecting suit below as a bored smile played at the edges of his mouth, the cool early-summer air ruffling the halo of his curls. He didn’t know it, but his blue eyes appeared much darker than usual in the glow of the soft, round lights that lined the opulent deck. Roses adorned the balcony; row after row of dark red, richly in bloom, almost obscene in their beauty, defiantly organic, thrown against the careful architecture of a DC penthouse. They were, thus far, the only interesting thing here.
“Fuck,” he muttered, sighing and pulling one long-fingered hand through his hair, absently straightening his already perfectly pressed, perfectly tailored black blazer as the hand fell downward. One more hour and he could leave; he stared at his silver Cartier watch absently; his mother had insisted he make an appearance here for the benefit of several wealthy donors to the Foundation (“just let them stare at you for awhile, you know how people love to do that, reel them in,” she said with a dry smile, and he nodded at her, smiling in return, ever the obedient son), but she hadn’t said he need stay for the whole party, after all. Showing up, killing time for a few hours should do the work she wanted, and he’d already made nice with those in the room he recognized from charity balls and fundraisers and galas past. Now the long, slow clock-watch until 11 PM, when he could make a stylishly early exit.
He was lost in these thoughts of escape and duty, still staring out at the glittering affectation of the capital city, when someone gazing similarly into the night caught the corner of his eye.
It was the hair first; then her expression. Chestnut-honey waves cascaded down her back; a small band of gold adorned with six-pointed stars nestled into them against her head, giving her a strangely angelic glow in the dim light, the idea of a halo. She was small--she couldn’t be any taller than his shoulders--and that only with strappy, stiletto-heeled black sandals, twisting up her slender, smooth leg above her ankles, tied neatly in double-knots, at that. Double knots, he thought absently, I tie my shoes that way too. He blinked, eyes traveling up, falling on the black velvet babydoll dress she wore, bodice hugging her slender waist and small breasts, hiding the curves of her hips--I wonder what they look like, he wondered again absently, surprising himself with his immediate interest--up further to the incline of her neck and the dip of her clavicle, adorned with a gold circle that had several chunks of quartz crystals shaped into points along her smooth skin. What a beautiful piece, he thought. So unique. He felt an uncharacteristic tremor in his composure; and then he looked at her face. Her features were small and delicate; her lips slim and colored with a dark red that reminded him of the roses she was leaning against, brushed into her cheeks a soft blush that reminded him of evening sunlight on sand. Her eyes were darkly shadowed, long lashes framing wide hazel eyes that glinted with a strange combination of innocence and wisdom that startled him. On her wrist was another slender gold thing, an intricate woven cage of criss-crossing artistry that fell down her arm as she lifted her graceful hand and pushed an escaping wave of hair behind her ear; tiny crystal points hung from her ears. She grasped a small black clutch in her other hand (her nails were unpainted, he noticed, a rarity in DC society) and her face seemed lost, angry, sad, and bored at once, her small mouth pouting in a silent, secret disappointment, her lips parting to release an almost inaudible sigh as she absently touched the crystals around her throat. As his darkened blue eyes watched her, their glowing fascination invisible and unrealized yet to him, she finally seemed to notice she was not alone; her wide eyes traveled over the cascade of city lights, down through the roses, and into his.
He felt as though time stopped for a moment; how long the moment extended he could never be sure later, but it felt like a blink and an eon at once, as though something vast and previously immovable had fallen into its long-sought place. Her eyes were even more mesmerizing now that they were locked on him; he felt an obscure ache in anticipation of the moment she must inevitably look away.
“Hi,” he said quietly, and he couldn’t help but smile; he knew it had a strange effect on some people when he smiled, but it was almost involuntary; looking at her was a hand around his heart that had begun to press insistently, and he felt his cheeks burning; his jacket suddenly seemed too tight and he felt odd, dizzy, almost giddy; looking at her.
“Um, hi.” He saw the cloud fall over her gaze; she recognized him. He silently cursed in his mind, biting the inside of his cheek, a habit he’d acquired from a lifetime of being Annette Shepherd’s son. Maybe this was not going to go as well as he’d already begun to hope. He saw the way her head shifted, her mouth turning down at one corner, her hand coming around the opposite arm, hugging herself in a seemingly absent-minded impulse. Hugging herself away from Duncan Shepherd, notorious, infamous; but maybe also from the cool breeze that blew over them, smelling of roses and woodsmoke.
“I’m Duncan.”
“I know who you are.”
He smiled again at that; “Oh? And what have you heard?”
“Plenty. More than enough to know I shouldn’t be talking to you.”
He unleashed a light laugh at that; something about this petite, gold-adorned creature was absolutely intoxicating, as if she was touching him without any physical contact, whispering in his ear while she was speaking in a normal tone of voice. There was something else going on here; there was some kind of hidden current, he could feel it, like an electrical charge. It extended from the hot core of his belly to the blush of her, the sunset-gold of her. He’d only had one and a half glasses of wine, but he felt suddenly drunk. He longed to know what she smelled like, but she was still too far away. For a moment, he imagined what it would be like to run his hand along the skin of her bare arm; around the incline of her throat. His cheeks burned.
“I promise, I’m not that bad.”
She rolled her eyes at him and he couldn’t help it; he laughed a little again. He could see her steely introduction melt ever-so-slightly this time, her eyelashes fluttering down, the corner of her mouth turning up the tiniest bit, her lips pressing together to stifle her own smile. Her arms relaxed, coming to rest on the edge of the balcony once more.
He chanced to step toward her; she seemed hesitant, but she let him, watching him warily, the wind gently kissing her hair, fluttering the hem of her short dress; it was everything he could not to not look at the smooth skin of her thigh where it ended. He absently hooked a finger around his high, buttoned collar, feeling his throat clench in a second of uncharacteristic nervousness, the wine glass in his other hand mostly forgotten. He watched her eyes travel up and down his tall form; they stopped for a moment on his russet-brown curls, skirted around his intense eyes, flicked to his full lips with an embarrassed interest, to his adams apple and his tailored jacket and down his body, flitting to his tailored slacks (an ever-so-slight pause, almost unnoticeable, over his crotch) and Prada leather chelsea boots. She inclined her head, shyly, and despite her hesitancy, he could see her interest, her attraction, glowing under her skin like a light.
“I’d love to know your name. I promise, I won’t tell anyone,” he smiled at her again, knowingly acknowledging that they were both out here for a reason while the party raged inside--these people were awful--and his own proclivity to use DC socialites to his and his family’s advantage.
He saw her hesitate again, one small hand coming up to hold a tendril of her long chestnut hair, twisting it between two fingers, smoothing her lips together as though her lipstick weren’t already perfectly applied. He watched her swallow, lost in some silent internal struggle, for a moment.
“Mackenzie,” she said, leaning away from the balcony. He was only a few steps away from her now: he could smell the wave of scent coming off her, as delicate as the intricate gold jewelry she wore: vetiver (a scent he loved and would recognize anywhere, he thought with a thrill) and something else, a delicate flower more complex than the roses, and rarer. Geranium? He thought. How unique. Who is this angel?
“No last name?” He grinned at her, knowingly. “Or one you won’t tell me for a reason?”
“I’m an orphan, they found me on the doorstep of a church,” she replied, grinning back, and he found himself goggling at her loveliness, and the pressing feeling around his heart doubled down to an almost painful ache. “Oh, really?” He laughed again, dizzily, staring into her eyes. “I guess I can pretend I believe that for now. Sometimes it’s nice to play anonymous, I wish I could do it; in a city as tightly-knit as this one is, anonymity has eluded me.”
“I’m sure that happened to you through no fault of your own,” she replied in a biting tone, but he could see her smile, the rosy glow of her cheeks. And he knew that she liked him, or at least, liked the look of him. Duncan knew that he was objectively attractive; he had felt the hungry gazes of men and women alike hundreds of times before, but something about this woman, her eyes, her hair, her gold, her light, was filling him with an intensity of desire that felt like warm water running over the edge of a glass; his nerves felt like they were vibrating, his skin felt flushed, and he knew what he wanted with a sharp clarity; he wanted this girl. Badly. She was the most beautiful, the most luminous, the most intoxicating being he had ever seen.
A small silence stretched between them; he ached to know what she was thinking, for now she stared at him with a boldness she seemed to have sussed from his obvious interest in her; the exposed feeling settling under his skin was intensely foreign to him, and it made him wildly nervous. The fear that she’d disappear at any moment began to press at his temples; he felt unhinged, that he would do anything to get this girl, this angel, into his bed.
“...May I get you a drink?” He murmured to her, the aching edge in his voice taking him by surprise. His throat bobbed; he extended the fingers of his right hand slowly, almost unknowingly, towards the smooth skin of her arm. But he did not touch her. The air seemed to hum around them, a frequency of sound that was almost visible; he felt that they were somehow touching each other without touching, feeling each other somehow without any physical contact. The wind blew softly again, filling his senses with her smell, intoxicating and delicate. He wondered what it would feel like to kiss her, gazing at her lips.
She regarded him for another long moment; he could see her hesitation, no doubt kindled by a dozen or more Post articles about his family. But then something in her gaze shifted inexplicably, softened, opened, and she smiled again, dazzling him. A barrier seemed to have been breached; her eyes shimmered, and he felt the heat from them pierce into his heart.
“You may.”
He’d feverishly gone to the bar (bourbon, she’d said, shaking his heart again with desire), skirting around the attentions of a Senator who tried to speak with him, anxiously watched the bartender crush together the ingredients of two old fashioneds, the fear that she would no longer be leaning against the roses when he returned shaking his confidence with an icy grip, but as he slipped out onto the otherwise-deserted balcony once more, his body flooded with an intoxicating dose of relieved dopamine; there she was still, turning toward him with that glow, stepping against him slightly as she pulled the tumbler from his elegant, large hand with her finespun fingers, and he shivered at the first touch between them, filled with an overwhelming lust for more. He reached out with the other glass and clinked it against hers.
“To the mystery of first meetings,” he said impulsively.
“To familiar strangers,” she replied, and something about her words shook him strangely, coiling around them, loaded and full of hidden meaning. They both drank; Duncan watched her from the rim of his glass, taking a deep gulp of the whiskey to calm his buzzing nerves; she closed her darkly shadowed eyes, sipped, and when they fluttered open again, he noticed the lust that had settled in behind them for the first time.
“I’m sure people tell you this all the time,” she said, her voice soft and hazy in his ears, “but you’re very handsome in person.”
“Some do,” he said, stepping into her space, achingly close, watching her reaction; she did not move away from him, but stood very still, resting the drink against the wide ledge of the balcony, eyes focused on his face. “But rarely is it someone as beautiful as you are.” He set his drink down beside hers, the bourbon humming against his skin; being this close to her felt almost unbearable in its intensity. She tilted her head up, waves falling back, the crystals around her neck glinting in the glow of the fairy lights. Her face came only to the incline of his chest; perfectly level with the space in which his hands hovered for the throe of a moment before he could no longer resist temptation; he moved them so they came to rest against her small face on either side, in the delicate spaces between her chin and her ear with an imploring softness. He looked into her eyes for a moment, questioning; and he saw the lust there again, saw that she desired him too, and that was all he needed; he tilted his face and his lips fell on hers, hungry, starving, immediate.
The eagerness with which she returned his kiss filled the pit of his stomach with a wild ardency; he could taste the whiskey on her lips, smell her richness, the ache of her perfume and the musky scent of her body, and he wanted her with a desperation that felt like madness in the corners of his mind. She opened her mouth more to him; he kissed her more deeply, his tongue brushing against hers, his fingers stretching out to feel the delicate skin of her neck, moving there to caress her, causing a small moan to escape her that drove him absolutely to the edge. She was pressed against him now, her small hands flitting down his chest and stomach, causing warmth to pool in his cock immediately in anticipation and want; he felt he could drink her in forever and still not have enough, he wanted the scent of her all over him, wanted to feel her against him without the barriers of her velvet dress and his silk shirt, her skin on his skin everywhere. The kiss kindled in him a fire that burst into a blaze; the soft insistence of her lips was the first page of the book of her, and he wanted to read all of it; he wanted to devour her until morning tinged the sky.
They broke the kiss breathlessly, both breathing heavily, their faces still achingly close, and his hands were moving down across the skin above her small breasts under their velvet trappings, further down, around their round incline to the top of her waist where he grasped her under her arms, fervently, his fingers pressing into her insistently, holding her there, her warmth and weight and scent hovering around him like a crown encircling his head.
“Come to my apartment with me,” he whispered. She leaned into him, her lips falling on his again, and he shivered into her mouth, his composure fracturing, his red and burning lust falling into her and crashing against her. His strong hands held her there, in that delicate space under her breasts, and her head reached up to meet his full lips, tasting insistently. He felt as though she were weaving a spell into him, tying him to her with an invisible thread, touching a hidden place in his soul that he hadn’t even known was there. “Please.”
He felt her smile into his mouth; felt her small hands reach up to his face, trailing along the stubble that lined his chiseled jaw, pulling him down to her; “...yes”, she whispered into him, and he couldn’t stop himself, he laughed quietly into her again, delighted, full of desirous joy. He pulled away from her reluctantly, only to grasp the tumbler of bourbon and gulp from it again; he needed just a little more courage, just enough to make it back to the penthouse with this vision he feared would disappear in a flash of gold; she looked at him with eyes shining with excitement and perhaps the tiniest tinge of trepidation, grasping and drinking deeply from her own glass, and the edge of that feeling he wanted to erase; he longed to reassure her, hoped wildly that he could soothe her.
He grasped her small hand in his large one, intoxicated by the way they fit against each other, and led her, insistently but carefully, to the side of the balcony that led to a side-door to the stairwell leading to the street; a mutual desire seemed to pass between them to avoid any of the other guests seeing them leave together, and he laced his fingers through hers tightly, helping her down the two flights, stopping briefly as she pushed him against the cement wall, hurriedly kissing him again, capturing his bottom lip in her teeth gently, and he clutched her against him, moaning into her, his hands falling to the small of her back, one sliding against the velvet of her skirt, feeling the rise of her small, round ass through the fabric, igniting new desire in his groin and his head. God, he wanted her. He wanted her so fucking bad. She giggled into him, and the bourbon clashed against him with a short wave; he buried a hand in her golden-tawny hair, marveling at its silky cascade through his fingers.
“Come on,” he insisted, and they were finally at the bottom of the stairs, and he pulled his phone from his back pocket, absently using his free hand to call an Uber Black; the sidewalk outside was miraculously and mercifully almost empty of people besides a woman walking a dog across the street and a few cars passing by, headlights flashing momentarily before they moved on. Mackenzie--god, he loved her name, Mackenzie--leaned into him again, small hands on his belt, filling him with her scent and her closeness and her heat, and he wanted to push her into the wall and kiss her and touch every inch of her until she was breathlessly shaking with the edge of climax.
Their car pulled up with an almost supernatural quickness and quietness; the driver quickly forgotten as they pressed once more into one another in the backseat, Duncan snaking a hand around her neck to pull her against his mouth, her hand flitting over his cock, now painfully confined in his tailored crotch. “Oh god, Mackenzie,” he murmured into her, his other hand falling around the soft rise of her breast, gentle and insistent, “I want you so much.”
“God, shut up, just kiss me,” she laughed. He couldn’t help but laugh again with her; when was the last time he’d laughed like this? Laughed at all? He knew somehow it wasn’t just the bourbon making him light-headed. She had appeared out of nowhere and nothing, absolutely intoxicating, as though she were a being from another world. She was astounding; he was absolutely drunk on her.
They broke apart with loathe urgency as the driver pulled up to Duncan’s Georgetown high rise, and the blur of the next few minutes ran into an accelerated mix of running paint in Duncan’s mind when he looked back on it; they were in the elevator where he could see her tender mouth against him in the full-length mirror that made up one of the walls, her tiny body pressed against him, her hair falling in a glow, and it made his cock throb. The doors fell open and her pulled her fingers into his again, leading her gently down the hall to the tall black door of his penthouse apartment, fumbling with his keycard; her hand wrapped around his, steadying it, her lips pressing into his neck with a tenderness that made him groan, and they fell inside. Thankfully he’d left one lamp on by the slender leather couch; the better to see her by; the better to lead her into his bed. He picked her up--she was light as a feather and as soft as one too--and pressed her against the back of the door that had swung shut behind them, his mouth urgent on hers again; “you know--” she said breathlessly between his lips crashing against hers--”I don’t usually do stuff like this--”
“I’ll take that as a compliment--” he smiled into her, his hands winding up the skin of her thigh, pressing her down to the ground again, pressing ever-so-briefly against the softness between her legs, making her gasp. She dropped her clutch unceremoniously on the spotlessly clean polished wood; reached down to unknot her shoes in a marvelously cute almost absent-minded gesture, a wonderful, frustrated whine escaping from her mouth as she fumbled with them. “Here, let me help,” he murmured, and he knelt before her--his hands fell down the softness of her leg to the knot, and he felt her shudder with desire under his touch. He loved the way he was suddenly looking up at her from here, suddenly beholden to her whim; he wanted to make her feel fucking good, he wanted her to writhe with pleasure. He unknotted the laces of the sandal, freeing her small foot, thumbing the red stripes they had left on her ankles; he couldn’t stop himself, he pressed his lips against the redness, and felt her shiver under his touch again, breathlessly.
He undid her other heel easily; as she stepped out of them, he saw that she was even smaller, reaching only right about level to his chest; he wanted to hold her small frame against him with desperate longing. She reached out, pushing his blazer from his shoulders insistently, their swollen lips coming together again; “god, you taste so good,” he whispered into her, “you’re so beautiful, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen--”
She shushed him again, her breath humming on his lips, as if she was afraid of his words. “Take me to your room,” she insisted. He nodded, sure that he would do anything she said in that moment, her eyes so intense, dark and wonderful that he felt he could see into her soul through them, and pulled her into his bedroom, its black sheets and spread perfectly pressed and quiet, waiting for them. The side-lamp on his pristine nightstand was dimly lit; its glow cascaded over her, striking him with her loveliness once more; he pressed against her desperately, pulling the headband of stars gently from her head and setting it on the nightstand with reverence next to his exorbitantly expensive watch, kicking his shoes off as he clutched at her, once more filled with a terrible fear that she would disappear, eager beyond all words to be against her.
“Duncan,” she moaned into his mouth, “fuck me.”
He needed no more prompting; he pressed her gently but insistently down onto the immaculate spread, and she opened her legs, sidling their bareness against his clothed thigh; he pressed his lips into the softness of her neck as her fingers found the buttons of his high-collared shirt, undoing them expertly, freeing his torso from the suffocating confines; then they moved to his belt as she moaned under his mouth, his lips grazing the crystals that hugged her throat, pressing into the hollow between her breasts above the velvet of her neckline. She pulled his belt away with a snap; he flipped her over with concentration, and she gasped, the sound of it thrilling him so his cock pressed harder against his pants, painfully.
He carefully pulled the zipper at her back down, his mouth pressing between her shoulder blades now, grasping the cascade of her hair to the side so as not to get it caught; his hands went to undo her necklace’s clasp, but she murmured “no, I want to wear it while we fuck,” and the thought of it thrilled him; it seemed only natural that she’d wear it, it seemed intense beyond a normal object, cut against her like a second skin, a miraculous piece of jewelry that hummed with eroticism. He pulled at her dress; she flipped over with an agile sweetness as he did, slipping out of it, laying on her back so her breasts were now exposed to him, wearing only a pair of silk black underwear now, and he hungrily captured one of her nipples in his lips, sucking hungrily. She moaned again, this time more loudly; who was there to hear them now, indeed, and he groaned happily into her body, intoxicated with it. He leaned up once more to undo the button and zipper of his pants; as he kicked them off, he watched her hazy eyes, bright with lust, lave over the bulge of his erection under his black briefs; “take those off too,” she murmured teasingly, her playful smile driving him to the edge of desire again, and he obediently pulled them down, grinning at her, his cock springing out and causing a bubble of surprise to fall out of her mouth; “god, you’re fucking big,” she murmured, and pulled his long frame down to her insistently. His mouth was all over her now, moving down her ribs and belly button to where the black silk panties clung to her, wet with her desire now, and with his large hands he pulled them down and threw them to the side. Her sex was glittering with moisture and her pussy was smooth, hair shaved away; he pressed one long finger between her folds to the bundle of nerves he knew was nestled there, and she moaned again, this time long and loud and stretching into a groan of ecstasy.
He pushed her legs apart insistently and pressed a hard lick against her clit; she cried out with an involuntary spasm of pleasure, and he smiled with desire. “God, you taste good,” he moaned, before pressing his mouth flush against her, working his tongue into her with measured circles; but their eyes, his stormy blue with want, hers taking on an ethereal dark-green hue that both shook and amazed him, stared into one another as he did, and he could see the way she was unraveling in his fingers, his mouth filling her up and bringing her dangerously close to the edge. “I don’t want you to come yet,” he whispered, stopping, watching her body clench under him with the lack of his mouth, “I want to fuck you and I want us to come together, god, you’re so beautiful,” and she nodded and whispered “yes,” and hushed him with her mouth, the taste of her mingling in their mouths, her hand finding his painfully erect cock and using the precum that dripped from its head to smooth her hand up and down his shaft, rattling him into a wanton thirst to be inside her.
“Do you want me to?” He asked, gazing into her face, her cheeks flushed with cupidity, her body hot under his hands. He couldn’t believe she was here in his bed; he gazed at the crystals against her neck, against her ears, into her eyes, fluttering as they looked at him, god, she was so lovely, she made his heart quiver; she made him want to die.
“Yes, Duncan--fuck me.”
He moved and he was between her legs--he paused for one deep moment, the head of his painfully hard cock against her cunt, and then he pressed himself into her as his mouth pressed into her bruised lips again, one hand grasping her neck, the other grasping her hip, and they gasped into each other, the intensity of this connection overwhelming them both in a cascade of sensation. He moved, a rhythm building in his hips and his groin, and she cried out--”Duncan, fuck, Duncan, oh fuck, yes, fuck me hard, like that--” and he pulled her against him, their bodies flush against each other, sweat mingling, the scent of their sex and their perfume (his like smoke and cedar wood, hers heady and sweet) crashing together--he moved, pulling her upright onto him so her ass smacked against his knees and the hard length of his cock crashed into her again and again, her clit rubbing against his abdomen, her eyes rolling back in her head, his mouth leaving red welts on her perfect neck, her hair falling back and glittering in the light. She kissed him, grasping his stubble in her small fingers, kissed his forehead as he buried himself inside her, causing small entreating words to fall from his lips like a prayer, like a spell, a mantra; “Mackenzie, Mackenzie, Mackenzie, please, oh god, god--”
He felt his climax rushing forward, a wave that he wasn’t sure he could stop if he tried, and she moaned into him--”Oh god, Duncan, I’m gonna come, keep doing that, just like that--” And as she cried out in wild delight a moment later, her cunt convulsing down onto him, he exploded into her, buried inside her warmth, grasping her against him as though he could never bear to let go; the sweat on his brow mixing into the sweat that pooled at her throat, and his cock shuddered its release deep into her, pulsing and falling into tenderness and still very hard. They stayed that way awhile; panting, spent, holding each other, pressing soft kisses into each other’s flushed skin, his length still inside her, her cunt dripping down onto him, still pulsing.
She laughed, suddenly, gasping, and it thrilled his heart to hear it; “Wow, fuck, fuck.”
“Mackenzie. Fuck.”
“Duncan. Hi.” She laughed again. He nuzzled his face into her neck. She lifted her hips and his cock fell out of her, going limp after his release, a small bit of white cum dribbling out. They both collapsed beside each other, chests still heaving, hands absently entwining with each other. He turned his head to her; his was just a little below her, under the incline of her arm, and she smiled down at him, and her smile was unbearably lovely; he could see the beauty that was hidden from him and the outside world shining from her eyes, still clouded with her climax, and knew in that moment that she was going to be someone special to him; he just knew, like the clashing sound of a giant gong resounding into the universe, like a shooting star that only he could see.
“That was incredible. You’re fucking incredible.”
She shyly pressed a hand against his cheek and he turned his face to kiss her palm; she turned towards him, sidling her legs together with a overwhelmed sigh as her still-sensitive sex pressed against her thighs.
“You’re pretty incredible yourself. And fuck, this penthouse. This is insane. Your cock is just...gorgeous. You’re gorgeous.” She blushed, locks of wavy hair falling over her shoulder against her breasts. Their hands still pressed into each other, feeling each other’s fingers softly, feeling each other’s veins, wrists, the soft pads of each other’s fingerprints. “But I meant what I said. I...I really don’t usually do stuff like this. This is....really unexpected.”
“I know what you mean. Mackenzie, you’re…” His eyes fluttered; he realized with a wave of intensity how tired he was, how much their fucking had exhausted him, body and soul.
“Mackenzie.”
She yawned; he wanted to grasp her to him, cradle her in his arms. He couldn’t understand what was happening; he wanted them to fall asleep together. That’s all he knew, all he could decipher. He wanted her to sleep in his bed until the sunrise kissed it and blessed them.
“Hmm?” Her eyes had fluttered closed, a small smear of eyeshadow, mussed in their passion, streaking away across her temple. He pressed the pad of his thumb there, wiping it away.
“Stay here with me tonight. Please?”
Her eyes fluttered open for just a moment; he was astonished to find he could still see that strange, hidden something still nestled inside them. That secret thing that seemed to be only for him. And then she said “okay”.
He pulled the coverlet over them so it was folded over the sheets; he couldn’t bear to disturb her again as her eyes fell closed once more and her breathing slowed to a soft whisper. He soon fell asleep himself, their hands still clasped together, her small, slender fingers entwined in his large, long ones. And the moon rose over them in the window, and the night fell away. Slowly, as they slept there together, a deep sleep that neither had experienced in a very long time, dawn came.
It’s the second time she’s alone with him - something she’d been avoiding since that fateful meeting, where she saw that face and made the flames appear.
He’s lingered in the bunker, sent Venable and Mead scurrying to the corners of the compound; they watch her from the shadows, the gray who has piqued the Cooperative’s interest. When he called her to his chambers this morning, Mallory was dismissed from her chores, scowls and worried looks shot her way in equal measure.
“I never wanted this,” he confesses to her, in a rare moment of peace. He sounds so young and so lost, that Mallory almost believes him.
Almost.
“That is, until I did. And now,” and his tone is rueful, condescending, “You show up, Mallory. And you make it harder and harder to want the very thing I was made for.”
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.
BODY AND SOUL Part 22 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)
BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST
Author’s Note: If you’d told me at the end of last year that I’d spend the first half of 2019 literally writing so much (so much fiction, nonetheless) that I’d regularly be falling asleep in front of my laptop, I would have told you you were fucking crazy: BUT HERE WE ARE. I can’t get over it, so I have to keep pinching myself to believe it. This part ended up a lot longer with a more meandering path than I expected, but I’m just here to do what Duckenzie tell me to do, y’all--they tell me what they want me to write down, and I do it. I wanted the warmth Kenzie feels towards Annette at the beginning of this chapter to juxtapose with the anger she feels towards her at the end--Annette is a complicated person, and Kenzie is grappling with the ways she manipulates and scapegoats Duncan and her own desire to find common ground with her. She can’t push away all her resentment of his mother, at least, not yet. Annette is changing and growing slowly, but she still has a ways to go, and if you’ve seen Season 6 of HOUSE OF CARDS, you know Duncan withdrawing from her after he finds out he’s adopted will be a catalyst for her. Here’s Doris Day singing DREAM A LITTLE DREAM OF ME. The cherrywood table looks something like this. Here’s Duncan’s cock ring. Here’s his fleshlight. One-pan pasta is truly great and truly easy to make, highly recommend if you’ve never tried it, you can put basically any vegetables you want in it. Duncan’s saute pan. His dry food jars look something like this. Sorry, y’all don’t get a full description of Kenzie’s Gala dress until the next chapter, from Duncan’s perspective; also, I’ll link to the blazer and the gold collar tips I found that look like Duncan’s Gala look next time. Kenzie’s dress with gold flowers. Kenzie’s black sandals. Here’s the ghost story books she chose: 1, 2, 3 (I have the first two). Here’s the fireside cooking kit she chose. She ordered a bunch of bedding from this site. I’ll elaborate on the clothes she ordered in chapters to come--like Duncan, I love Kenzie’s clothes, and can’t resist elaborating on her outfits. Of course Samuel knew that in a moment of distress, Landslide was the only way to go. I wanted to express how much Kenz loves both Samuel and Harris in this part--and how much they are beginning to love her. Cartier boxes look like this. The connection between Duncan and Mackenzie is becoming stronger--that is, awakening to the deepness that is their destiny as soulmates, the connection between them that always has been and always will be, hence Kenzie having a premonition about something happening to Duncan and later being able to feel his sadness from miles away. The photograph of Annette catching Duncan as a child is, of course, canon with Season 6 of HOUSE OF CARDS, though Duncan never mentions it being taken in the fall, I added that. I got chills editing the end of this chapter--Duncan’s devastation soothed by Kenzie’s love. Love is really everything. Her Momby--the memory of Carrie Fisher--loves Duncan very much already (as I feel Carrie would have loved Cody if she had been able to meet him), and she will be a source of great comfort to him. I’m not totally sure how long the Gala stuff is going to be, but we’re finally up against it, and there’s a good chance it’ll be more than one chapter--there’s a lot I need to cover. Love to the Millorys, and, of course, especially my Duckenzies. As always, if you’re following along, your reblogs, likes, comments and asks mean everything to me.
Kenzie hovered at the edge of tears still in the backseat of the BMW, leaning into Duncan’s shoulder with his hand in her hair, lost in the feeling of Annette’s kiss that lingered on her cheek; it was as though she could still feel the pressure of it, the heat of it, the reality of it. I wonder if I haven’t confused the things that truly matter with what seemed to…
When Kenzie had pushed her warmth into Duncan’s mother, the touch of their hands creating a strong connection which she had harnessed, she’d thought: Annette, you are not alone. When Bill dies, you will not be alone. Duncan is your family. I am your family too. I promise, there is great light coming soon. In the years to come, your soul will be at peace. You are not alone. Be brave and go to comfort your brother. She had reached down into the secret gold she could now constantly feel stirring in the center of her body, lifted its strands out to hold Annette’s body and the soft fall of her hair. Annette had sighed--the long, low sigh of the truly contented, caught in this moment, and her face had suddenly lifted and looked younger, and Kenzie was struck by her beauty, by the beautiful, innocent girl she must have been once. And when Annette had kissed her, Kenzie almost felt as though she could smell the soft sweetness of some ancient flower, the smell of a summer long passed, when Annette had hoped and dreamed and been in love.
Kenzie’s phone chimed in her lap. Clairebear. Duncan’s eyes (storms), which had been staring off into space, glanced down at it. Kenzie Lou, your dress and Duncan’s jacket for the Gala are FINISHED. I’m going to send you some shots now, just making sure he’s not looking before I do!
Kenzie turned to Duncan, smiling. His hand fell down to the ends of her hair; his beautiful face leaned towards her, and he kissed her with aching softness, stirring the gold in the center of her up again. His mouth was like velvet, the sensitivity and sweetness of its pressure against hers making her sigh, the scent of him (woodsy jasmine, sandalwood, cedar) bringing her mind up to crash against him. To be kissed by you is always like I’m lost in a dream, and I never want to wake up. “Claire says our Gala outfits are finished. I can’t believe it’s the day after tomorrow. Already. Do you want to see your jacket?”
“I think I trust Morgan, honestly. God, I can’t wait to see what you’re wearing, though...” Duncan’s hands were coming down her arm now, to the crook of her elbow, against the dip of her breast in the lace. Kenzie couldn’t stop herself; the day had already felt so long, its oppressive heat having made her weary of the outside world; in this cool cocoon with the partition rolled up, Duncan in her arms, she felt as though there was nothing else in all the world that mattered. He was so lovely; despite the hotness of the afternoon, he still somehow looked fresh and unbothered, his skin smooth but for the dark stubble along his jaw (I love it so much), his black clothing pressing against his tall form, his hair tossed back in waves from his forehead, his gaze more striking than ever in the dark eyeliner Alister had given him. She moved closer, reaching up to the dip of his jaw turning into his neck, and his hand coming around to her bare shoulder blade. Kenzie leaned into his kiss again, opening her mouth. Doris Day was singing on the stereo, soft, meandering piano behind her--stars shining bright above you, night breezes seem to whisper I love you--
“Baby,” Duncan murmured into her, and Kenzie gasped against him in a tiny voice, a sudden terrible need for him crashing into her. “Whatever you did for my mother--thank you.”
“It was for you, baby,” she whispered back into him, and Duncan was pressing her down into the seat, clutching her against him, his hand coming down to press the lace of her skirt up, exposing her thigh to his large, long hand (uh huh touch me touch your angel give me all your need), his elegant fingers sending shivers up to the top of her spine as they gripped her, needy and demanding and leaving long red streaks on her pale skin, drifting up to the dip between her upper thigh and her crotch (today Kenzie wore red tulle panties to match her dress--they were sheer, and Duncan’s insistent hands had exposed them now--she could feel the cool air drifting against her sex and it made her shiver), her body was suddenly pulsing with heat...say nighty-night and kiss me, just hold me tight and tell me you’ll miss me...He dipped his hand up to the waistband of the panties, his fingers brushing the bare skin of her stomach, and his mouth went to her ear.
“Kenzie, Princess, please, let me touch you?”
“Uhmm, Duncan--Dunny, we shouldn’t--” His mouth was tasting at hers again, snatching her words away. Fuck, baby. Put your hand on my neck. Duncan’s fingers immediately came up to grasp her throat, and they tightened as he stared into her eyes, following her lead. Harder. That’s it. Now kiss me again. Let’s go home and fuck. I want you to lean me over that table and give me your hard cock and wrap my hair in your fist and make me suck on your beautiful fingers and fuck me--
Fuck, Kenzie. I’m wanna fuck you for the rest of the day. I wanna fuck you and make you scream because it feels so fucking good. I wanna lick and kiss and suck your clit until you can’t stop shaking. And then I wanna sleep for the rest of the afternoon with you. And then I wanna wake up and fuck again. Can we do that? I just wanna be alone with you for the rest of the day. I always just wanna be alone with you.
Kenzie was nodding against him as his mouth sucked along her bottom lip, his hands still pressing her down insistently into the leather of the seat, her head resting in the odd crook between the car door and the backrest. Kenzie’s mind was writhing with the feeling of him; she thought of Duncan fucking her ass, the wild sensitivity of it, the insistence of him pressing the plug inside her, the look in his eyes as he tied her up, the demand as he pressed the egg into her clit, or stared at her in the mirror as he buried his length into the space between her legs. She felt her cheeks growing hot with her need; felt the twinge of her cunt spasming at the promise of his fingers and his mouth there, coming soon.
Baby, at the Gala, she thought into him as their tongues clashed together, and Duncan was pulling her up easily into his lap--god, the strength he keeps coiled inside him, sometimes I forget and then he lifts me like I’m made of dry leaves--and her hands were both clutching at the stubble of his jaw, his still pushing the lace skirt insistently from her thighs, thumbs pressing close to the bands of her panties, the only barrier between his fingers and her shaking sex.
At the Gala, I want you to make me wear my plug.
Kenzie pulled back to stare into him, his ocean eyes wet and shining with the intensity of his desire for her, his thoughts drifting against her in hot waves of blue flame. Oh fuck, Princess. Kenzie. Fuck. Yes. My baby, my baby love.
I want you to put it in as we stare at each other in our Mirror, hold my throat as you do it, and Kenzie’s fingers drifted down and gripped his as she pressed the thought into him, whisper into my ear that I’m your Princess, your angel, your only love, your Soulmate. Make sure I know that I’m yours, baby. She tightened her hand and his mouth drifted open, eyes focused on her face.
Uh huh, Kenzie. Yes, Kenzie. I’ll make you wear it all night. He was moaning into her hand, his breath falling against her lips in a labored, lustful gasp. You are my Soulmate. You are my only love and everything I am and have is for you.
Uh huh, baby. You’ll tell me I can’t take it out until you say so. Kenzie smiled into him, teasing, feeling the power drift through her fingers to him. There with all those people and all those cameras and everyone, and I have to wear it for you.
Unng, Kenzie. I want you to make me wear something too. Please, make me wear something for you. Make me wear something to worship you. I have--I have a cock ring that I use to play with myself sometimes--I forgot about it until now, honestly...you’ve been playing with me so much I haven’t needed it, have I, baby love. But I’ll show it to you when we get home.
Kenzie gave him a look of mock severity, lifting away to stare at him, her hand still on his throat. She spoke out loud, quietly, surprised. “You should have told me about that before, baby. What else do you have that you’re hiding?” Duncan glanced down, shyly, then back up into her eyes.
“A fleshlight.”
“Ooooo, baby,” Kenzie ground her hips down onto him, and Duncan arched up into her, groaning, insistently needy. “I wanna watch you use it. When we get home I’m gonna make you use it while I watch--”
“I wish I had one made in the shape of your sweet little cunt, baby,” his mouth pressed under her chin, forcing her head up; Duncan moved his swollen lips down her throat, tongue pressing lightly and leaving a wet trail, into the dip of her collarbones, down between her breasts, and Kenzie was leaning back in his arms to accept his worshipping kisses, the coiled strength of his hands pressing into her spine, keeping her close, her eyelids murmuring open and closed, fighting the building heat in her belly. “Anytime you’re away from me I can’t stop thinking of you, I always need you, Kenzie…I have to go on trips sometimes, what if you’re writing or you’re busy with work and you can’t come with me--I want one of your tight little cunt, god, it’s so tight around my cock, baby--god, please make me wear something at the Gala, make me, please--”
Kenzie quieted, soothing her mind back into his. Okay, baby. Will that make you remember all night that you belong to me? Will that cock ring kindle your need for me for hours and hours? You can’t take it off until I say you can. Okay, Dunny? Kenzie bit into Duncan’s bottom lip, sucking at it, her opposite hand coming up to the other side of his neck to choke him with careful pressure.
Yes, Princess Kenzie, yes, angel, I promise I’ll be good and do what you say, baby.
Good baby. My sweet Prince. I love you so. They’d made it back to the high-rise and Kenzie carefully slid out of Duncan’s grasp, glancing down at his lap; the hardness of his growing erection was pressing into his crotch, and Kenzie longed to unzip him and pull his cock out, longed to press her mouth down onto the soft head of his length at that very moment, but Harris was coming around the door, wearing his dark glasses again. He extended a hand to Kenzie, giving her his friendly grin, the low heat of the day seeping into the backseat. It looks like it’s going to rain, Kenzie thought. A summer storm for us to fuck to. She smiled at Harris, accepting his hand innocently.
“You know, Harris,” she said, stepping onto the sidewalk, feeling Duncan come up behind her; felt his hand press languidly down her bare back, into the strands of her hair. “Claire was asking me about you.”
Harris dipped his head down to her, his sepia-colored eyes flashing over the rim of his glasses, his grin morphing from one of benign friendliness to shy interest. Kenzie smiled at him teasingly.
“Is that so, Miss Mackenzie.”
“Can I give her your phone number? Or give you hers?”
Harris blushed at her, pulling his sunglasses off his nose, glancing at the ground.
“Unless you’re unavailable. I’m sorry, Harris, it’s rude of me to have assumed.” Kenzie felt Duncan’s hand drift down to the zipper at the back of her dress, felt him pressing it down, wantonly, impatiently. She dipped a hand behind her back, fingers pinching at his. Oh my god stop that baby not yet. Kenzie felt a large drop of rain splash against her cheek--here comes that storm.
“I’d very much like to call on Miss Claire, Miss Mackenzie...that is, if that’s acceptable to you.”
“Harris, yes. Definitely. I’m going to send you her phone number right now.” Kenzie quickly went into her contacts to Claire’s number, hitting Share Contact as more rain began to fall around them.
“Come on, Kenz, we’re gonna get soaked,” Duncan slid his hand down her arm, reaching for her fingers. Kenzie quickly typed Harris’ name into the bar and hit Send.
“Claire is the most wonderful person,” she said to Harris as the rain began in earnest, a peal of thunder booming over their heads. She could see the large man’s dark gray suit beginning to grow black with the water seeping into it. “She’s my best friend.” She grasped Duncan’s hand and he pulled her towards the front entrance, beginning to trot as his hair flattened in the sudden downpour. She hesitated, then called over her shoulder, towards her bodyguard--and as she did, she pushed some of her drifting gold towards him, a few strands from the pit of her body.
“I wish you luck!”
She turned back to Duncan, quickening her pace to a slow run to keep up with his long trot--now they were both soaked, and water dripped down in rivulets from her long hair, her dress sticking to her hips. Jerry seemed to be somewhere else at the moment--Duncan yanked the glass door open himself and they ran inside, leaving a trail of water drifting on the marble under their feet.
“Sorry about the water, Anchaly--” Duncan said as they hurried past him. He glanced up, smiling at them indulgently, then returned to The Year of Magical Thinking, not replying. Duncan punched the elevator, staring at her, breathing hard, licking the rain off his lips--he flicked a hand (your beautiful hands, my beloved) through his hair, mussing it, rain cascading out of it to patter on the polished floor. Kenzie felt breathless, suddenly; breathless in the desirous intensity of his blue-sky stare, breathless at how fucking lovely he was. I’m going to rip your fucking clothes off, Kenzie. She swallowed as the door slid open; Duncan suddenly gripped her waist and pulled her inside, and as the door slid shut behind them Kenzie dropped her bag to the elevator’s spotless carpet as Duncan picked her up and pressed her into the side-rail, her back thumping against the wall. She hovered above him, her body stretching almost involuntarily as his open mouth hungrily sucked at the dip of her neck.
“Mackenzie Stone, I fucking love you,” he said, and she nodded against him, leaning into him. “I fucking love you too, Duncan Shepherd,” she murmured, whining into the wildness of his kisses. “I want you to fuck me until I scream while we listen to the storm--”
“Oh, you’re going to fucking scream, baby--” Duncan crushed his lips into hers, rushing his tongue against hers, making her cunt spasm. He’s so fucking tall, he can lift me like I’m nothing, his big fucking hands are gripping me so tightly. “You’re gonna come so fucking hard for me, baby, I’m gonna make you writhe with pleasure, I’m gonna make you come so hard all over my aching cock--”
Kenzie brought the flat of her palm down against his cheek, slapping him with a coiled strength--not enough to leave a mark, but with pointed insistence. Duncan’s words cut off as his breath sucked in sharply, staring at her in surprise--then their blue depth grew darker, like a night sky fading into evening, and Kenzie’s nerves thrilled.
That’s right, baby. You’re gonna fucking fuck me, aren’t you. You’re gonna wrap that leather choker around my neck and yank it tight and make my poor little pussy red with attention. Kenzie grinned at him, shivering in the drift of her thoughts to him in the elevator’s icy air conditioning, water dripping down her back from her soaked hair, pressed into the wall. The elevator dinged; 30. Duncan gripped her under her arms and brought her down, still holding onto her tightly, his breath ragged--Kenzie reached to the floor and grasped the strap of her convertible bag before Duncan insistently pulled her out of the gold interior, his fingers pressing tightly into her wrist. Kenzie couldn’t help but giggle nervously again; I love this. Be bossy with me, go ahead, Prince Duncan. He glanced back at her, his eyes still that dark shade of blue, and goosebumps broke out on her skin finally as he yanked his wallet out, shoving his keycard impatiently into the side of the door. He pulled Kenzie through as it unlocked with a beep, still gripping her wrist; Kenzie could feel her fingers going numb, he was holding her so hard. He turned as the door swung shut behind them and lifted her up again, falling into her as her back smacked against it, his thigh pressing between her legs, her hands falling to the sides of his wet hair, his mouth pressing up into hers.
“It’s like the storm is just for us,” she whispered, her lips brushing down to his stubble, its harshness raking into her skin.
“Yeah, the gods got hot and bothered knowing we were about to fuck,” Duncan laughed into her, his hands flitting over her, slipping through the slickness of her damp hair. He lowered her, reluctantly, and Kenzie went up on her tip-toes to reach for the topmost button of his wet shirt, working it apart.
“Anyone would get bothered, looking at you, Prince Duncan.”
“Miss Stone, I only have eyes for you.” He was pressing her back against the door again, his tall form looming over her, his hands against the black wood on either side of her head, trapping her. “Go sit at the table, Miss Stone. I’m going to get your choker.”
Kenzie bit into her lip, unable to disguise her delight at his commanding tone.
“I like you being bossy with me,” she whispered, still clutching his collar, her lips on his jaw. “I want you to be rough with me, baby.”
He smiled down at her--the smile made Kenzie shiver. My beautiful Duncan. I see the Hades in you when I speak such dark delights. I see the wild wine god. I see the shadowed god who sleeps; with me, he rarely emerges so utterly, for I bring out the light in you. But if I ask for him; ah, there he is. You will always give me what I want. You will always obey my desires.
“I will. Go sit down, baby. Be the angel I know you are.” He leaned down to kiss her softly for a moment; Kenzie shuddered in the gentleness of his embrace, knowing he was hiding the powerful need she’d asked for just beneath the surface of his composure. Then, he lifted his arms away from her and turned his back to her, working at the remaining buttons of his wet shirt, discarding it on the floor as he went to the closet, not looking back. Kenzie unlaced her shoes with quick fingers, kicking them beside the door, nervously stepping into the dining room, where the cherrywood table extended, serenely quiet and polished and long. She hadn’t really spent any time in this room of the penthouse--not since the night I made him chicken and dumplings and he tied me up for the first time, tied my wrists to the bed, fuck, oh baby. The table was indeed a magnificent piece, its dark reddish wood already having pressed itself into her mind; as soon as I saw it I wanted you to fuck me on it, baby. Something about its aged, elegant surface was intensely erotic. Kenzie went to the levered window at the far end of the room, facing the south side of the penthouse--she crooked it open and pushed it wide, the curtains immediately blowing toward her in the storm, rain pattering against the panes, warm, fragrant summer air rushing in. There.
She thought of how soon they’d be in the woods, by the lake, the clear air and the birds and the soft winds in the trees waking them up in the morning, the sharp smell of smoky woodfire and summer grass and the weed they’d smoke at night, the quietness of the evenings to come. Someday, we’ll wake up day after day in the garden house, and we’ll escape from the city regularly and we’ll fuck on a soft bed covered in quilts and twenty feather-down pillows and we’ll sleep until noon sometimes and no one will tell us we can’t--we’ll have a library and a pit for bonfires, we’ll have picnics under the shady relief of the orchard. She let herself imagine it--indulged again in her fantasies, her paddock of three horses, dapple gray, black, and creamy white, her greenhouse, her verdant garden of flowers and vegetables, wonderful dirt under her fingernails and sweet apple trees and honeycomb from their beehives to press against Duncan’s lips. Hey, I can dream. I’ve been dreaming. I’ve been sucked into a dream, only this dream is real.
Kenzie pulled out the heavy chair at the head of the table, closest to the doorway, and sat, breathing in carefully, trying to quell her nerves. She was still soaking wet, and she shivered a little, despite the warmth drifting in from the window she’d opened, her arms covered in goosebumps. She could hear him coming back now towards her, moving through the kitchen--but she didn’t look over to him, not yet--she stared ahead at the window, at the drifting movement of the curtains in the wind, the droplets of rain on the sill.
But I can feel him, Kenzie thought. I can feel the blue flame of him, pressing out, coming around me to stroke down along my hair, to fall down the side of my cheek and the back of my neck and over the rise of my breasts. I can feel his need, his want, his insistence, his lust crashing against me, wave after wave. Kenzie closed her eyes, anticipating the moment of his touch, willing herself to be patient, to be still. She heard him set something on the table, a soft, indistinct series of two taps, then a rustling--then heard the soft clink of the buckle of the choker on the hard wood as he set it there as well. She breathed carefully--in, then out, concentrating on the color of him. She could feel Duncan standing near her, feel his aura, his tall presence, could hear his soft breathing, calmed from its raggedness but still hitched with anticipation.
Kenzie could sense him moving toward her; then she felt the sweet softness of one of his microfiber towels dip down over her shoulders; keeping her eyes closed, Kenzie soothed into the feeling of his hands gently pressing it against her, carefully, into her damp hair and the back of her neck.
“Baby,” and she felt his mouth tickle against her ear, the warmth of his breath. “Stand up.”
Kenzie stood, eyes still closed, enjoying the sensation of being obedient to him; but I’m doing as you say because I told you I wanted to, she knew, and that thrilled her too. She felt Duncan move the chair out and away; into the corner, or somewhere else, somewhere it wouldn’t hinder them. Then she felt him come up behind her--felt his mouth drift from her ear to her cheek, his fingers fall down her arms. His woodsy smell was tinged with the wild scent of the rain, and the heady undercurrent of his desire, an obtuse scent she had begun to feel intimately familiar with, but one that she couldn’t describe in any worldly sense. It’s just him. It’s just my Duncan. Stronger when he wants me as much as he does right now.
“I’m going to take off your dress now, baby. It’s soaking wet and so are you.”
She laughed a little. Keep your eyes closed. It’s teasing him. It’s making him hard. “Uh huh, baby. I am.” She felt his hands at the zipper at her back now--felt him slowing inch it down, felt his lips fall onto her shoulder. She shivered, let the dress’ straps glide down her arms, let the wet dress drift off her body, pooling around her ankles; Duncan gripped the waistband of her panties and slid them down, too, so they fell around her feet. She felt Duncan soothe the towel down her shoulders again--then, he delicately moved it down her back, around her breasts and down her stomach, over the rise of her ass, the backs of her thighs, whisking the dampness from her skin. She could feel the sweetness of the wind drifting towards them from the window, hear the rain, the sound of his breathing, the pounding of her heart in her own ears, and she could feel the breeze of his thoughts, brushing over her skin--you said you wanted to watch me use it. Open your eyes, angel.
Kenzie did as he said: Duncan was naked before her, his cock achingly hard, his eyes on her face. He reached his hand out to her; Kenzie took it, stepping out of her wet dress and panties pooled at her feet, pushing them aside with her toes. He let go of her, fingers slow and brushing down hers, stepping back--Kenzie sighed at how beautiful he was, his hair damp and falling into his eyes, his height next to hers, his angelic, intensely erotic features. He reached to where three objects rested on the cherrywood table: a soft silicone ring with a bulbous triangular extension, a dark green, long object with a screw-cover that looked like a flashlight, and her rose choker; its silver rose winked at her, its black leather strap seeming to stare at her, waiting, achingly patient, knowing. Duncan picked the choker up in his elegant fingers (your hands, made to delight me) and looked into her eyes.
“Stand still, baby. I’m gonna put your choker on now, okay?”
Kenzie nodded, unable to keep her smile hidden, her body flushed with heat. I want it. I want you. I want you so fucking bad, put those fucking hands on me. She sighed as he came around behind her--wind blew towards them from the window, and she saw him shiver as his free hand came out to brush down her arm.
“Kenzie, you are so beautiful.” His hands brought the choker up around her face, lowered it to the soft, delicate incline of her throat, pushing her damp hair to the side--Kenzie wished they were in front of their Mirror for a moment, so she could see him put it on, but then she remembered how much she had wanted him to press her down onto this table, and thrilled to know it was on the cusp of reality. Duncan looped the strap through the buckle, pulling the choker tight, almost too tight, into her skin--she gasped a little and Duncan’s mouth came down to her ear, his tongue licking against it.
“I want it to be tight so you know you’re mine, angel.” Kenzie gasped, nodded, her eyes fluttering. “Is it okay? I want it to be tight, baby, I want you needy in my arms, is it okay? To control you for a little while? Give me permission.”
Kenzie nodded again, her breath ragged, the rhythm of her thoughts slowing, willing her breath to be small and slow. “I give you permission, baby.”
“If it’s too much, slap your palm on the table, like this.” Duncan brought the flat of his hand down on the table in front of her, slapping it into the wood, firmly. “Okay? And I’ll stop.”
“Uh huh.” Kenzie breathed in again, carefully, slowly, feeling the press of the choker into her throat, its constriction making her cunt twinge; she felt the wetness gathering there drip down the cavity of her, hovering around the lips of her sex. “I want you to fuck me good, baby.” She couldn’t stop the words that tumbled out of her, hungry and imploring. “I want you to fuck me until I’m raw and red from you, till I’m aching.”
“Unng, Kenzie. Shhhh.” His hands came around her, one to cup her breast, the other to trail possessively along the silver rose under her chin, his face drifting down to her cheek, pressing soft kisses there. “You said you wanted to watch me masturbate first. So you’re going to. Be patient for me, angel baby, okay? Put your hands on the table and don’t move them. You can’t touch yourself until I say so.”
“Uh huh. Can I make you wet for it, baby?”
Duncan’s eyes fluttered closed, and he nodded. Kenzie knelt in front of him, willing saliva from the back of her throat forward--she spat onto the head of his cock through pursed lips, using her hand to slide it down onto his length as he moaned, sucking eagerly at him for a moment, until he glistened with her attentions--reluctantly, she leaned away and stood again, and his eyes lingered on her, on the edge of control. Then, Duncan came around to where he’d placed the toys on the table--his hand came up to the aching hardness of his erection, and he eased his hand down it, down the wetness from her mouth--with one hand on his cock still, holding it steady at the base, he grasped the cock ring and pushed it down onto himself, a long, low groan emanating from his throat. Kenzie’s body trembled at the loveliness of the sound; an actual angel from heaven, stroking himself for me, beautiful beyond all my dreams. The ring seemed to make him even harder; Kenzie could see his cock jumping over and over into his stomach now, see its strain, its length, its redness, see the wild light coiled behind his blue-flame eyes, the aching, simmering energy that had begun to build in him.
Then, he reached for the fleshlight, unscrewing the top, turning the pussy-shaped canal towards her for a moment so she could see, his smile setting her skin to embers of fire, he is so fucking lovely, and Kenzie bit into her lip, feeling her cheeks blush. Fuck, baby, fuck yourself for me, fuck yourself, my Prince, my beautiful angel, and she knew he heard her from the look in his eyes, from his reply into the crevices of her mind. Oh, I will baby. For you and you only. Kenzie felt her mouth drift open, longingly, her hands flat on the table in front of her, wishing she could press her fingers into her aching clit as his eyes burned on her, but she had promised him she wouldn’t, and it gives me pleasure to obey you today, baby.
Not breaking their eye contact, Duncan turned the base carefully; a low buzzing emanated from the fleshlight, the vibrator now active--and his full lips opened slightly, slowly, involuntarily, as he pressed his cock into the shivering canal of the toy, and she heard him moan her name, “Uhh, Kenzie, Kenzie baby,” and Kenzie couldn’t help but sigh into a moan of need herself as she watched him drift the toy up and down his length, building a rhythm for her, his head falling back and his chiseled jaw pointing towards the ceiling. Fuck, he’s so fucking gorgeous. Fuck, I can’t even believe how beautiful he is sometimes. How can he even exist at all. How is he mine. Kenzie’s nails dug into the wood of the table, moisture pooling down the lips of her cunt, gathering against her thighs. Baby, I need you. Baby, I can’t stand it. “Fuck, baby, Dunny, oh, fuck--”
“God, fucking god, I love that choker on you so fucking much, baby--” Duncan continued to fuck the toy, the rhythm in his hips building, his thighs keening into the side of the table. “I’m gonna fuck you so good, you like this, don’t you, you like watching me fuck myself like this--”
“Uh huh, please, baby, please let me touch myself. I need you, I need you...”
Duncan slowed, his eyes squeezing shut as he carefully pulled his length out of the toy--Kenzie could see how red his cock was now, squeezed into wild hardness by the ring, pulsing with need, precum dripping languidly from the head.
“Okay, Princess, touch yourself.” Kenzie’s eyes fluttered in relief and she brought her slender fingers down to work against her clit, sighing at the warm breeze that suddenly floated against her--Duncan dropped the toy on the table, and she could see the determined, ravishing light in his eyes. That’s it, baby, fuck, I love that, make yourself wet for me, rub your sweet little clit.
God, baby, I’m already so fucking wet. I need you to fuck me. I need it.
Kenzie curved her body down over the table, staring up into him, leaned onto it so her elbows were crooked against its surface, her breasts pressed into it, nipples achingly hard, her ass pressed outwards to where the chair had been. She refused to look away from his gaze. Duncan gave her a longing, dazed look--then his eyes seemed to clear, he seemed to remember his duty, and he moved quickly so he was behind her--then she felt the coiled pressure of his hand press into the nape of her neck and push her head down onto the table, his fingers coming around to grip her tightly, so her cheek was against its cold, smooth surface--and Duncan kept his hand there, pressing her down as he thrust his cock into her cunt, the wetness that had gathered in her receiving him with covetous thirst. He was so hard that Kenzie felt her body struggling to take all of him, despite the come that had spread down through her--the ring had unclad every last residue of softness, and Kenzie felt her eyes roll back at the intensity of his domination over her in this moment.
As Duncan began to fuck her from behind, his fingers tightened at the sides of her throat over the choker, and she gasped, her voice cracking desperately at the combination of low pain and high pleasure in her body in this moment--Kenzie felt darkness drift at the edges of her vision, felt her body spasm at the lack of air, and her little hand slapped down onto the table, aware she would pass out soon if he didn’t loosen his grip. Duncan immediately lifted his hand, immediately stopped the movement of his hips, his cock still buried in her--he leaned down to her, brushing her hair from her shoulder, his mouth against the side of her head.
“Baby, are you okay, are you alright? I’m sorry, are you okay?”
She gasped air into her lungs--then, she turned her head, eyes fluttering open and closed, and Kenzie said “yes, baby, keep fucking me, Duncan, fuck me hard, I want it, fuck me hard, spank me.”
“Uh huh, angel--” Duncan immediately rebounded his movements against her, immediately ground the entirety of his length back into her, so insistently Kenzie felt her hips lift forward, shoving her into the table’s surface, his balls falling into the lips of her cunt--then his big hand came down and smacked into her, so hard it made her catch her breath again.
“Uhh, Dunny, yes, just like that, fuck yes--” And he slapped her, hard, on the other ass cheek, and she could hear the amusement and affection in his voice as he said “you like that baby, huh, you like me spanking you so hard like that--” and Kenzie nodded into the table’s cool surface, moaning approvingly, loving its heady scent under her nose, loving the pressure of him driving into her, the sound of his voice and the rain and the drift of the summer storm against their flushed bodies. Duncan was pressing down against her, driving himself into her again and again, and then he was gripping her little wrists and pulling them back in his fists, so hard she knew there was no way she could escape from his grasp unless he let her, lifting her a little off the table as he continued to grind into her, and then he dipped down to her ear and said--
“Baby, I’m gonna come now, then I’m gonna suck your sweet little clit on this table until you come, okay, baby, angel, is that okay?” And it was all Kenzie could do to moan a reply, “Yes, Dunny, yes--” And his long, beautiful hand was drifting against the back of her skull, clutching into her hair harshly, longingly, his mouth pressed into the back of her head as he shuddered against her, the warm spurt of his come coursing into her, and she could feel the damp sweat where their thighs touched, where their sexes were pressed together, aching and so fucking close.
Duncan hovered inside her for a moment, then in a smooth motion that stunned her he pulled out of her, gripped her hips between his long, beautiful fingers, and turned her body insistently, so she was facing him, a little line of spittle running down from her lips; Duncan leaned down to her, snatching Kenzie’s breath again, kissing her with terrible need, sucking at the spit that fell onto her skin, tongue tasting into her, and he was lifting her so she was now sitting on the table’s edge, his hands so soft and so strong and becoming so knowledgeable of her curves, the dips of her skin, the corners of her body--Kenzie’s body was absolutely set alight under his attentions this way, and her cunt was aching so deeply she felt as though she were on the verge of tears. Duncan’s smooth hand pressed into her belly and eased her down so her back was pressed into the cold surface of the cherrywood--her hair had almost dried now, and drifted around her shoulders and head as she gazed toward him. Duncan kneeled--Kenzie felt her mouth fall open at the beauty of the image, my sweet Prince, kneeling at my altar, bowed in worship, faithful, prostrate, and entire. His blue eyes pierced through her, and she could see the crown of his head, surely where a circlet of gold should be, my beloved, angelic, divine, and royal, a creature of high heaven. Then Duncan buried his mouth into the space between the lips of her, and Kenzie couldn’t stop the wail that rose out of her, so lovely a mouth it was: the only thing I want in the whole fucking world right now, baby, your mouth on me like this, all your attention, all your love, all the desire in you flowing into me in the most sensitive part of my body, as if to bathe me in moonlight.
I worship you, Duncan’s thought cascaded against her, through her thighs and belly, up to circle her breasts, fanning over her throat like a collar of diamonds, caressing the leather at her neck, thumbing her open mouth, pressing into her tongue and drifting its fingers into her hair. I fucking worship you, Mackenzie Louise Stone, I adore you, I am your most ardent lover, your most supplicant admirer, I bow to you, my love, I want nothing so much as I want your joy, your pleasure, and your delight in all things. I worship you, Kenzie, most fervently, I desire you always, I love the sweet space between your legs as I love your eyes as I love your breath and your sweetness in slumber and your glorious heart, your blessed soul, as I love you always, until the end of time, beloved, my Kenzie, I love you--
A peal of sweet summer thunder burst over the high-rise, rolling through the open window, rolling against them, crashing against the feeling of Duncan’s aching mouth pressed so carefully and insistently onto her sex, and his hands clutched between her thighs, pressing her up into his attention, and Kenzie saw the lightning from the corner of her gaze, felt the drift of the warm breeze down the length of her body, ruffling the drying curls around his head, smell the fierce, lush wave of the rain, and her hands came up to bury themselves them in his hair, against the sweet softness at his head, and his stormy, sky-laden eyes, the blue nebulas he kept hidden swirling there, lifted to stare at her, and Kenzie felt her body jerk forward against him, felt the crescendo of her coming approaching like another rumble of thunder on the horizon, and then she was arching, her back lifting from the table, and his tongue was shifting back and forth on her as she cried into him, remembering the otherworldly glow of his golden hair in the dream, the divine, strange wings that had extended from his back, and she felt, for a small, stolen moment, that she could see them again, growing from his back now as he kneeled against her, felt that in this moment, they were divine again.
-------
Duncan had gently, sweetly eased her back to the floor and unbuckled the choker from her throat, his fingers brushing against her now-sensitive skin as he did, and Kenzie had leaned into his touch, sighed with the loss of him as he lifted the leather away, sighed with relief as he immediately brought his fingers back to knead at the marks on her neck, his mouth coming down to soothe her swollen lips, soothe through her hair, dried to soft waves from the dampness of the rain. Kenzie reached down to his cock, still swollen with the pressure of the ring around it, and eased the silicone toy off his length, achingly slow--Duncan groaned into her as she did, closing his eyes, pressing his forehead against hers, and Kenzie said “that’s it, baby, there we go, god you were so hard for me, baby, you felt so fucking good...” and he nodded against her, contented. The storm was still raging outside, the rain now pounding heavily through the window, and Duncan stepped away from her to close it, but Kenzie whined and clutched him and she felt his mind surge back to her and he forgot the window and gathered her up in his arms.
“My Kenzie, my sweet little Kenzie, my beautiful angel,” he was murmuring into her ear, his fingers (my baby has the most beautiful hands, and they touch me with such reverence, I love his hands) still softly soothing the redness at her neck, and Duncan pressed himself against her, his body smelling of sweat and rain and cedar, the coiled strength of it low from his release, and Kenzie’s body still shook, vibrated with the comedown of her orgasm, hummed to feel so close to him in this moment, sung with the threads that were tying them together, their bodies, their minds, their souls. “You’re my baby, aren’t you, angel, you’re my Princess, my queen, my Persephone, tell me you are, Kenzie--” “Yes, baby, yes, you know I am, I love you--” and she turned her mind towards him, pressed her lips into his where she could taste her sex between his teeth, thought you know that I would die for you if I had to, you know I am giving the most secret, hidden parts of myself to you, and I’m glad to do it, I’m glad to fold myself into you this way, glad beyond all words, my beautiful and dark Prince, my Hades, and I know you bow to me, I see the terrible loveliness of your prayers, and your worship is fair beyond all worship in my eyes, and when we were those other beings with strange wings, our eyes like galaxies, our clothing created from the strange geometries of another world, I thought your worship more fair too, in that place, and chose you to be my dearest love for all time.
“Let’s make something to eat, Kenz,” Duncan said, and pulled back from her, gently. Kenzie nodded up to him, suddenly realizing she was starving. “Then we can take a nap together.” And that she was exhausted. He knows, he can feel me.
“Ugh, Dunny, that sounds fucking perfect.” Kenzie let Duncan pull her through the kitchen, into their closet--he pulled her silk pink-and-black sleeping set down from where it hung, easing the cami over her head, gently pulling her hair out as she pushed her arms through it--Duncan’s hands came down to drift over her breasts under the silken cloth, and she felt her mouth dip open, loving the sensation of his touch. Then he turned from her and rifled through one of his drawers for black sweatpants and a black tee shirt (always black, my Hades), kissing her forehead as she pulled on the little silken pink shorts.
“I’m thinking one-pan pasta,” he said, and Kenzie gave him a questioning look.
“What’s one-pan pasta?”
He laughed a little. “Exactly what it sounds like, babe. Pasta you make using just one pan. It’s so easy, come on, I’ll show you.” He twined his fingers through hers and pulled her into the kitchen, and Kenzie loved the sound of the rain, the softness of his presence, the fall of his hair. Despite everything in the world outside that has tried to harm or damage us, here we are, our love only grows and becomes greater, and being with you is beyond my wildest dreams. Being with you is joy unimaginable. Duncan looked at her, and Kenzie knew he’d heard. He nodded, and she heard him too: yes, Kenzie, yes. I love you so.
Duncan opened one of the high cupboards that rose along the sides of the stove, pulling down a shallow saute pan, dipping it into the sink to fill it with a few cups-worth of water. “Kenz, can you get an onion, some basil, a tomato and a pack of mushrooms from the fridge?” Kenzie nodded, smiling, gathering the things he’d asked for and laying them carefully on the counter as he placed a cutting board there beside her.
“All you do is put everything in the same pan and let it cook until the water evaporates,” he said, his hand coming up to fall down the wave of her hair. He reached to where several long glass storage containers were lined along the counter to the side of the sink (several kinds of dry noodles, rice, flour, sugar, cornmeal, quinoa, oatmeal, granola) and and pulled one with long spaghetti noodles to where their ingredients were gathered. His eyes skirted over her succulents on the sill, across the gray, rainy sky through the window, as Kenzie watched him, enraptured once more with his beauty. The plants were thriving, almost impossibly so--they were verdantly green and bright now, and some had begun to hang heavy growths down the wall. They can feel the love here. They can feel how much I love him.
“It’s supposed to rain all night,” he murmured, and she could see he was suddenly lost in thought, but the thoughts were indistinct to her, then he turned towards the pan on the stove and placed a handful of the pasta into the water, so she couldn’t see his expression. “Tomorrow I’m meeting with the President, Kenzie. I have no idea how she’s going to react to me. I’ve never met with her alone like this. And she and my mother have a very...fraught relationship. Like Annette and Madeline, they went to school together. But they were truly friends back then. I always wonder what happened between them, later. Whatever happened to make them turn on each other as they have.”
“Your mom is like an hawk. She’s terrifying, baby. I don’t doubt that it’s hard to stay friends with her.”
Duncan turned back to her, nodding, reaching for his kenzo knives from where they shone neatly on the counter-top, slicing the onion and the mushrooms with precise strokes, pulling leaves off the bunch of basil (it smells so good, Kenzie thought) and tossing them into the pan as well. Soon, the uncooked ingredients were gathered in a picturesque array, and Kenzie ran over to where she’d discarded her bag in the corner, grabbing her phone out (she noticed she had texts from both Clairebear and Mom, thought I’ll look at them later, I just wanna be with him right now) and snapping a photo. “This is the before, then I’ll take one at the end,” she smiled up at him, and Duncan glanced up at her, his eyes full of affection, as he turned the switch on the stove. “I love the colors together that way. It looks so pretty.”
“You--” Duncan started, but Kenzie gave him a facetious little slap on the arm.
“Shush, you.”
“I won’t. You look so pretty. You are so fucking pretty. Will you be my girlfriend, Miss Stone? I’m in love with you, Miss Stone.” Duncan was pressing his lips down to her cheek, his hand drifting up her arm.
“I am your girlfriend, Mr. Shepherd.”
“I still can’t believe it. That night we met--I’ll never forget that night, Kenzie. How lovely you looked. I knew.” Duncan turned back to stir the ingredients, tossing crushed red pepper and chopped garlic into the pan, grinding his coppery pepper mill over it, glancing at her between his work. The smells wafting from the stovetop were making Kenzie’s stomach rumble, and she pulled down two black plates from the cupboard beside them, pulled out the cutlery drawer where Duncan’s lovely silverware rested quietly, winking up at her, grasping two forks, setting them down quietly on the plates, watching him cook. I love to watch him cook. I love to watch him do anything. The smallest things. The graceful movements of his hands. The way he bites his lip when he’s concentrating. The way he cocks his head, leans his chin down, the small little movements of his eyelashes and his blue blue blue eyes.
“I was afraid of you,” she said, finally. And I was. You were so fucking beautiful, you are truly a Prince, and I thought you were dark, I thought you would be cruel, but no, I found that you were as beautiful inside as you are outwardly. And I found that you, of all the people in this world, were truly the One for me. “You have a reputation. Well, had. You were so tall and looked so sharp and your eyes were staring at me so intently--like they could really see me, like I was naked. Not, like--not that way.” She saw his smirk. “That you could--see my soul. Baby.”
He reached for her hand, the wooden spoon in his other pausing over the pan. “I almost felt like I could. Sort of. The minute I looked at you, I felt like I could see into you, see how wonderful you are. Like I could see your halo, all around you. I would have done anything it took to get you to talk to me.” Duncan tightened his grip on her fingers, his eyes staring at her intently. I could see your wings. “I can’t believe I found you, baby. In all the world, we found each other. But I think that we were meant to. I think we would have always found each other. There’s no way we could be kept apart.”
They let go of each other at the same time, but Kenzie could still feel the gold string that extended between them. It’s always there. It always has been. It always will be. Nothing will break it. Not even death.
“I think the dreams mean something,” Kenzie said to him. She gazed at the pasta and vegetables simmering down, breathed in the spicy scent of it as Duncan stirred, listening to her, not speaking. “I think they’re about who we used to be--or, who we’re going to be? I think we are them. I think those things happened or are happening or...something. I think if we find the right person, I dunno, the right psychic or whatever you want to call it, they can tell us who those people are. The people we used to be.”
“I’m sort of afraid to know, Kenz. There’s something about all of it that really unnerves me.” Duncan turned the stove off, using a long pair of tongs to scoop the pasta and veggies on the plates. Wow, that really was so easy, Kenzie thought. I love it when you cook for me. Love you, love you, love you. “I feel like there’s something dark hidden in all of it, dark for me, I mean. Like whoever I used to be was...I dunno. That I was a bad person. Worse than anything I’ve been in this life, and I--I really haven’t been a saint.”
Kenzie let her fingers drift down his arm--when Duncan turned to her she could see that his eyes were clouded with vague pain.
“Duncan. You aren’t a bad person. You are going to do wonderful things--you’re going to help thousands of people, baby. And I’m going to help you. Duncan, listen to me.” Kenzie’s hands went to his cheeks--Duncan turned into her palm, kissed it, his eyes closing. “You are good and sweet and kind and your soul is so beautiful and I love you so much, forever and ever. Whatever you used to be, it doesn’t matter now. What matters is what you are now. And I will love you no matter what. I swear I always will.”
“You’ve fucking saved my life, Mackenzie Stone.”
Duncan opened his eyes, staring into her as she let go of him, as she reached her hands down to their plates, passing his to him, twisting her fork immediately around the pasta and blowing on the steam. She popped her fork into her mouth, his gaze unnerving her as it always did--filling her nerves and her thoughts with his blue flames, his endless desire for her. She chewed and swallowed. Ugh, delicious. Everything he cooks is perfect.
“I didn’t. You saved yourself. I just gave you a little push in the right direction.”
“It was you, baby. It was all you.”
Kenzie leaned up to him, Duncan leaned down, and his lips were warm and soft and his mouth still tasted of her sex. The clouded quality of his gaze seemed to have dissipated, and his expression was calm and adoring of her.
“Let’s go in the bed, baby. Let’s go eat in bed and listen to the rain.”
Duncan went to the study to get a bottle of wine--Kenzie had taken his plate back from him and brought them both carefully through the bedroom, loving the quiet quality of the shadowy light today in the penthouse, her eyes lingering on her white and pink peonies on the coffee table, then on Athena’s bent head as she passed the statue, bathed in umbrage. She settled onto the bed, balancing the plates carefully and setting them on the black duvet, then she angled her phone down onto their dinner and posted the two photos together on her Instagram--get yourself a boo who can cook like @duncanshepherd, she typed. She noticed River had made a post about their interview today, including a side-angle photo, clearly one River had taken with her phone, of the two of them posing towards Anna--met Annette Shepherd, Duncan Shepherd and Mackenzie Stone today, and these two are serious #couplegoals. Look for my editorial in @vanityfair in a few weeks and @annapeterson’s breathtakingly gorgeous photos of them. #duckenzie #bestcoupleever There were over 3,000 comments under the post--Kenzie went to her profile and saw that she had over 2.5 million followers now. Sheesh. She went out of the app, feeling dazed and a bit afraid of it again, opening her text messages as Duncan came into the bedroom, two of his beautiful Waterford wine glasses clutched in one hand, a bottle opener in the other, and a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon with a handwritten label pressed under his arm.
Clairebear: Kenzie Lou, voila, the gown of a goddess. And clothing fit for a prince. Kenzie quickly angled her phone so Duncan couldn’t see the screen--Claire had sent her multiple pictures of their finished Gala looks, and her breath caught in her lungs. Oh my god. Morgan has outdone herself. I can’t believe how beautiful this is. I’m going to feel like a queen. The paps are going to lose their shit. Gold in the darkness. Gold for you, my love. Duncan’s jacket was exquisite--Morgan had made the metallic gold that dripped from it look painted, as though from a brush held by Van Gogh. Kenzie’s eyes skirted up to Duncan, unable to hide her wide smile.
“Baby, our Gala looks, oh my god. Wait till you see my dress.”
“I’m going to fucking die when I see it, I already know. Everyone will. I can’t wait for everyone to see--to truly see how radiant you are. They won’t be able to look away.” Duncan rested the bottle on the nightstand on his side, deftly uncorking it, pouring the dark red wine into the glasses. He handed one to her, sliding onto the duvet carefully so as not to upend his plate there, leaning down to kiss her, his hair falling on his brow. My warrior prince. Michael the archangel, too beautiful for human eyes. Hades, his eyes burning with blue flame, ever desirous of me.
“You’re going to look beautiful too. You always do. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. Why do you think I said yes as soon as you asked me to come home with you,” Kenzie laughed. “We’d been talking for what, ten minutes?”
Duncan was spooling pasta around his fork, his radiantly happy smile melting the center of Kenzie’s heart into warm toffee. “If you had said no, I think I would have died right there of an utterly broken heart.”
“That smile alone. My Prince. They should paint you.”
“That reminds me, Kenz. I want to commission a painting. Of us. One of me and you. One we can hang in the garden house I’m getting for you when the company reverts to me.”
Kenzie’s breath caught. Duncan Shepherd, my billionaire boyfriend, wants to commission a painting of us. Like we’re a king and queen. To put in the house he’s going to buy for me. Fuck, Kenzie. Here you go, another reminder that you’re not in Kansas anymore. You really, really fucking aren’t.
“Dunny--I. Fuck.”
“You said you wanted a garden house more than anything, baby. Your eyes were shining and your face was glowing, and you were so beautiful, telling me about your dreams. Well. I want to give you everything you’ve ever wanted. I told you before and I’ll say it as many times as I have to until you understand that I really meant it. That I mean it. That I will.” He reached for his wine glass and clinked it against hers, drinking deeply, as if in need of the rich wine’s heady courage. Kenzie swallowed, her heart having floated into her throat, stealing her breath and her words and bringing tears into her eyes again.
“I’m sorry I cry so much lately,” she said, finally, and could feel her lips trembling as she did. “But tears seem to be easier than words these days. I don’t know what to say, Duncan.”
“Say you’ll marry me if I ask you.”
“Fuck, Duncan.” Kenzie felt tears course down her cheeks now, one from each eye. She saw the flash of her imaginings again--Duncan pushing a ring down onto her finger, her pushing one onto his (his beautiful hand, wearing the proof of his devotion to me always from that day on), thousands of flowers, Claire in a beautiful velvety bridesmaid dress, Momby giving a speech that would send everyone into a wild fit of laughter, the sweetness of his arms as they danced for the first time as husband and wife, surrounded by a hundred fairy lights. At last, my love has come along, my lonely days are over, and life is like a song...
“I won’t if you don’t want me to, I know, it’s wildly soon--but--but Kenzie. Oh, baby. I just--I want to ask you so much. It feels so right to ask you. I can’t stop thinking about it. It feels so right to want to be with you always that way. I want to give you my name and all its protections, everything. If you’d have me.” He had lowered his plate onto his lap, and they were both very quiet now, looking at each other in the gray light of the clouded, late afternoon, Duncan in his dark shirt and sweatpants, Kenzie in her little silken pyjamas, listening to the rain falling overhead and against the windows. Kenzie realized she was holding her breath, and let it out in a shuddering wave toward him. The most beautiful boy in all the world wants to marry me. Kansas is so far away, and I think it always will be now. I think life is going to be so insanely beautiful now for as long as I’m alive, and I can’t bear how it makes me feel. To be loved so utterly is overwhelming. To love someone this much is like a long dagger in my heart, and I worship its pain.
“Dunny,” she whispered. “Duncan. Ask me when I don’t expect it. Ask me on a random day. One of the beautiful days we have ahead of us. But I will say yes. Yes. I will. I love you.”
Duncan didn’t say anything--Kenzie could see the emotion gathered in his eyes, and knew he was as overcome as she was in this moment. He nodded, his hand coming to his jaw and along his bottom lip, then brought his fork back up to his mouth. Kenzie breathed carefully, willing her tears to dry. She remembered Momby’s text, and looked down at it, sniffing, wiping at her cheeks.
Mom: Look what just arrived via private messenger. To say I’m surprised is a bit of an understatement. Does this mean you finally weaseled your way into Annette Shepherd’s heart, my Kenzie Lou?
Attached was a photo of a gold envelope with black swirling print in the center. Madeline Stone, and then a second photo of the card inside it, where embossed gold print read: To: Ms. Madeline Stone. Your presence is cordially requested at 4th annual Shepherd Freedom Foundation Gala, on June 7th, 20XX. The theme for this year is GOLD IN THE DARKNESS: the juxtaposition of light and shadow in the Pre-Raphaelite movement. Attire is to strictly adhere to theme. Please bring this invitation to the event. We look forward to seeing you. Most sincere regards--the Shepherd family.
Kenzie squealed and held the phone out to Duncan, wiggling her knees back and forth against the bed. He squinted at it for a moment, then he let out a laugh that made the hairs on Kenzie’s arms rise, the sound of it wildly beautiful to her.
“Oh, baby. Fuck yes. I’ve missed Madeline like crazy. I don’t know what you did to my mom today, but fuck, it really fucking worked.”
“Dunny. I’m so fucking happy. This pasta you made it so good. I love you and the rain and this bed and this wine and everything.” Kenzie glanced to the Mirror that watched them in its regal, mysterious way, reflecting them in the gray shadow of the now-stormy day--the chain glinted down, winking in the low light. She was struck by how ethereal they looked in the reflection--my eyes look almost gold. She felt Duncan’s mind drift against hers. They do. They looked like that last night, too, baby. They looked like that while I was fucking you. They looked like that in the darkness. Gold in the darkness. You.
Duncan was finishing the pasta on his plate--he set it on the nightstand, finishing off the rest of the wine in his glass, then leaned across the bed to press a soft little kiss on her lips. Kenzie could feel a wave of sleepiness washing over her, and she handed him her plate and glass, which he moved to the stand as well. Kenzie folded against Duncan with relief as he eased them both down to the pillow, not bothering to get under the covers--the penthouse was cool but not cold, the temperature in the room dry and comfortable now that they were no longer wet from the rain. We’ll just sleep for a little while, Kenzie thought to him. Just for an hour or so. God, taking a nap with you baby, just sleeping with you this way, I love you so much…
Duncan’s nose and mouth were pressed into the back of her hair, arms enfolding her, his hands clasping her fingers which were nestled between her breasts. She could feel him, feel the sweetness of the thoughts he was drifting towards sleep inside--he was thinking about them getting married, thinking of flowers in her hair, thinking of her saying yes to him, thinking of a ring with a huge round moonstone, the color of sweet cream and iridescent like a rainbow as it caught the imaginary light. A moon for my little moonbeam, my moonlight, my beautiful moonlove, my moon, my sunlight, my starlight, my evening mood, my Ariadne, my Persephone, my baby, angel, my dearest love, body of my body, soul of my soul…
------
When Kenzie surfaced back to reality, it was from another dream. In this one she had been in a huge, terribly beautiful chair of gold, some kind of intricate, whirling golden sceptre extending from her hand. A throne, she knew. My throne. Duncan was kneeling before her from her place on a raised dais, and he was the impossibly strange, ethereal Duncan who had imperceptible wings, long, flowing golden hair, eyes like the blue nebulas, cosmic and infinite. He’d been gazing at her with eyes that told her he was lost to her--my Duncan sometimes looks at me that way, Kenzie had thought, knowing. But when this happened, it was for the first time, and she knew that, too. This was the first time he saw me. The first time any Duncan ever saw me. It was before time began; before the wheel of the universe had begun to spin. In this place, at this moment, the wheel started to turn. Because he saw me. And he knew that I was the beginning and the end and also that I was infinitely his; that he was infinitely mine. That we would forever belong to each other. For all ages. For all of time and beyond time.
Duncan stirred, his arms still around her--the bedroom was dark but for the moon in the window, almost totally full (the day after tomorrow, the Gala, the full moon), and it was deeply quiet, the rain having slowed to an almost imperceptible drizzle. Kenzie turned towards him and he nuzzled his face against her neck, sighing. “What time is it, baby?” she murmured into him. She felt his head fall back to look at the nightstand.
“Shit, it’s already 11. We slept for a long time, baby. We must have been tired.”
“I’m still tired, baby.” Kenzie leaned her face into the softness of his shirt in the dark--wanna fuck you, baby, but also wanna sleep, she thought against him. His hand stroked through her hair, bunched it at the base of her skull as his fingers grasped her against him.
“Baby, were you having the same dream?” he asked, his mouth pressing gently to her forehead. “You were on a throne. You were so magnificent. So incredibly beautiful. There are no words for how beautiful you looked.”
“Yes, baby. I was having that dream too. You were kneeling to me. You were too beautiful to be human. You were like a god.”
“I do. I do kneel to you. Should we get ready for bed, Kenz? We can fuck again tomorrow, baby, we can fuck when I get home and tell you about my day with the President, and you tell me about what you did, every detail, everything.” His voice was soft in the dark and Kenzie dreaded the moment he would have to switch the lamp on--I can feel him so well this way, feel his colors in the dark. We don’t need our eyes to see each other, I can see him, I can see every little fiber of his soul when he’s holding me and speaking to me so sweetly.
“Uh huh, yes, please.” Duncan let go of her, and a moment later the bedroom flooded with the low lamplight. Kenzie sat up, dipping her feet down the side of the bed, turned away from the Mirror, yawning, stretching her arms up to the ceiling. Duncan was gathering their plates and wine glasses, moving out towards the kitchen with them. I wonder what will happen tomorrow with Claire Underwood, Kenzie thought to his back, rubbing her eye with a sleepy hand, then remembering all the makeup she was still wearing, wincing as mascara stung under her eyelid. She went to the bathroom, tying her tawny hair back with a tie she’d left on the sink at some point, squeezing face cleanser into her hand, scrubbing it into her cheeks and eyebrows, washing the day away. Another very long day. We’re not done with those yet. But oh god, the way he fucked me today. The way we are starting to be able to anticipate each other’s needs, the way we can speak to each other in the throes of it, that’s beyond anything I ever imagined. True Soulmates. That must be what everyone sees--they don’t know they see it, but that’s why people react to us together the way they do. They see that we’re Soulmates. That we really, truly are.
Kenzie scrubbed her teeth as Duncan came up beside her, pressing his mouth against her hair. “Wait till you see the lake at the cabin. It’s so clear, on days when the sky is blue it’s like it fell into the water, like it’s liquid sky. We can swim in it or take the canoe out. We can build a bonfire, Kenz, howl at the moon.”
“I wanna roast marshmallows and read ghost stories to each other.” She spit in the sink and smiled, glancing at him in the mirror, her face damp, his expression sleepy. My sleepy Prince. I’d wake you up with kisses, but I just wanna go to bed with you and fall back down into the dream where you kneeled before me, your eyes deep galaxies of worship.
“You got it, baby. You should find some that look good tomorrow and order them for us to bring along. And anything else you think we should bring. We’ll take the picnic basket and eat lunch every day under the trees. We should get used to it, we’ll be doing it all the time when we have the garden house.”
“Ugh, that’s too beautiful, baby. I can’t even imagine that. The garden house.” Kenzie watched him brush his teeth, loving the way he scrubbed with broad, even strokes, loving the squint of his eyes as he concentrated, loving the rise and fall of his arms and the little movements of his fingers. You’re so calm about it, but my heart is full to bursting with you. With what you’re promising me. With all my dreams coming true.
“Soon you won’t need to imagine it. Soon, it’ll be real. It’ll be ours. We’ll find the perfect house, tucked away somewhere quiet and serene, no neighbors, just nature and the horses and me and you. You can scream as loud as you want when we fuck and nobody will hear, we can fuck outside under the stars and nobody will see us but the gods.”
“They’ll like watching. The gods are perverse.” Kenzie pulled her hair out of the tie, shaking it out around her shoulders again.
“They brought us together. I’m grateful to them.”
“Maybe we brought ourselves together. When I was dreaming, I thought: this is the first time I ever saw you, this is the first time I knew you were my beloved. Did you feel that way, baby?”
“Yes, Kenzie. I knew that too. I knew it was before time had...before time had really started. Before the universe had begun. I don’t really know what that means. But I knew that.”
“Uh huh. Me too, Dunny. Me too.”
He tucked his toothbrush back in the glass on the rim of the sink, Kenzie’s beside it (hers was orange, his dark blue; together, as it should be), then pulled her into his arms, picking her up at the waist, carrying her out of the bathroom easily. Kenzie looped her ankles behind his back, hands drifting around his neck. He threw her down softly, his lips finding hers again, and Kenzie felt the deep, immersive need for sleep crash down over them again. “Sleep, baby,” she whispered against his mouth. “Sleep with me, let’s go back to the dreams, I wanna be there with you, in the dream world.”
“Yes, sweet Kenzie.”
Kenzie didn’t remember falling asleep again, and though she knew she dreamt again with him, dreamt once more of that ethereal, lovely place where his eyes looked like nebulas and his hair was long and golden, she couldn’t remember what had happened in the dream the next morning, and she knew he didn’t, either. She only knew they’d dreamt it together. As it should be.
-----
It was still cloudy the next morning, but the rain was over, and Kenzie woke to find she had turned toward Duncan in sleep, so their faces hovered close. In the half-space of waking she watched the tiny shivering of his eyelids, the dip of his lips, parted slightly, his hand under his cheek. For a long moment she admired him; then Kenzie sat up, desperately craving a coffee right away today. The room was cool, the light still quite low. She glanced at his silvery alarm clock; it was just after 7.
As Kenzie moved into the kitchen she felt a warm burst of air drift through the doorway of the dining room, and realized: we left the window open all night. She shivered a little in the draft, her eyes glancing over the toys they’d left scattered on the cherrywood table; she grasped the edge of the window and pushed it closed, twisting the lever so it locked into place, her thoughts falling over the picture of Duncan using the fleshlight on himself, the wildly erotic expression in his eyes. Kenzie imagined the nights he’d used it alone; my beautiful Prince alone in his penthouse castle, overcome with longing, using it on his gorgeous cock in the silence of his lonely bed. She had no doubt he’d enjoyed many partners in the past, but she seemed unable to put a face on any of them, and they seemed indistinct to him now, too, when she’d felt his thoughts drift there--even Misha and Evan, the two people he’d told her he loved before. The pleasures of the flesh. Not meaningless, but--where is true pleasure without this love. It’s as though they never existed; fading shadows in light of the intensity of this love.
As she passed the table coming back, her hand reached out to fall over the leather strap of her choker, unbuckled still and left to wait quietly until they had need of it again. I love this. I love the feeling of Duncan pressing it into my skin. I love the look in his eyes when he sees me wearing it. I love the strain of it, the pressure, the slickness of the leather, the sound of the buckle as he closes it and pulls it tight. It’s a chain between us, a chain of such terrible sweetness. Kenzie moved her fingers along the silicone cock ring next--imagined Duncan wearing it in agonizing anticipation all night tomorrow. Surrounded by hundreds of other people in their finest, and we’ll still only be able to think of each other.
Kenzie made two coffees with Duncan’s imposing black Keurig, thoughts drifting over their beach day, the sweetness of his mouth, the feeling of his tall form huddled against her. When Duncan buys the Post, maybe I can write something about the company and we can publish it. Something about how it’s changing, and what our goals will be--how we’re going to change the Foundation, and move towards sustainability. I wonder if Duncan can convince Claire Underwood that she’s not his enemy. I doubt that will be easy. I think she and Annette have been on bad terms for a long time. Kenzie worried vaguely about Duncan’s meeting. I have a strange feeling about it, a nagging that wouldn’t dissipate. I feel like something is going to happen today, something that’s going to hurt him. The nagging suspicion filled Kenzie’s mouth with acidity, made her shiver despite the coolness returning to the penthouse now that she’d shut the forgotten window. I want to give him my courage, wrap him in that thin gold armor that protects him from all harm. But I think there are some things I can’t shield him from. Some things, I think, I can only give him comfort for. I think this might be one of those things. Be patient, Kenz. Be the constant thing for him, as he is your constant thing.
Kenzie came back through the bedroom, Duncan’s back still turned to her in sleep. She set the coffees down, watching him for a moment, hesitating, then Kenzie lifted her silken top over her head, pushed her shorts down, and climbed onto the mattress, naked and breaking out into goosebumps. She slid a hand down his arm, down into the dip above his hip, and Duncan stirred, eyes coming up to fall over her, turning his head. Kenzie grasped his fingers and lifted them up to her breast--his hand stayed there and began to knead at her, fondling between her nipple, back and forth. Neither of them spoke.
Good morning, angel, she heard him drift into her. You’re so fucking lovely. You’re naked.
Uh huh, baby. I made coffee, but it’s gonna get cold. Come fuck your baby. She leaned close to him, her mouth hovering near, but as Duncan tried to kiss her she pulled away, out of the grip of his fingers at her breast, and slid off the bed, stepping towards the bathroom. Duncan immediately seemed to lift away from sleep and came after her, pulling his black tee shirt off and to the ground, pushing his sweatpants off. Hard as usual, Kenzie glanced back at him, pulling the shower door open, turning the knob so hot water immediately cascaded onto her, but leaving it slightly open to receive him. She kept her back turned for a moment until she felt his hands come down, insistent, at the back of her elbows--then she turned, and immediately his mouth was crashing down against hers, his tongue insistently brushing against hers, his fingers finding the lips of her labia and lifting into her so she whined into his kiss. Duncan pushed her back so her shoulder blades knocked into the glass shower wall--the steam was rising already and his eyes were wildly tender, needy, as if he was half-stuck in the dream he’d just left in sleep.
“Are you my baby,” she whispered to him, and Duncan pressed his mouth down to the soft space of her jaw beside her chin, lifting her thigh with one hand to open the space between her legs to him.
“Yes,” and he pushed into her and filled her utterly, his groan echoing from the circle of steam and heat that enclosed them. “Your--baby--totally yours, Kenzie--forever--your baby is gonna fuck you good, make you come--” and she was whining, bucking her hips up into his cock to receive him as he lifted her, his thumb pressed into her clit to coax her (come, angel, come), the hot water’s insistent rhythm building their lust (she could feel his, like a wave, rising with hers) and Kenzie looked down to watch his thick length bury itself inside her, back and forth, fill me up, baby, Duncan, fill me with you, only you, just you, and he was lifting her other thigh up so he grasped her, hovering, over him, her toes curling as they knocked into his sides, her hands (god they look so small on his skin, on his neck, like tiny insect wings) coming to grip his neck, to choke him, to hold herself up, and his mouth fell open, his wet hair falling onto his forehead, and his eyes fluttered, and he gripped her, fingers tightening enough to leave bruises on her skin, as he jerked and his cock was buried in her utterly and he didn’t move again, steadied, waited, their bodies so close that Kenzie truly felt she didn’t know where they came together, only that it felt more right than anything else, that it was truly her Fate to be pressed irrevocably against him this way. He kissed her, his mouth open, tasting her, and then she felt his moan vibrate into her, and Kenzie pressed two fingers into her clit as her other hand grasped the skin of his neck, and she said, clearly, demanding: “Duncan, come right now, come with me--” and they were gasping into each other’s mouths, Duncan’s arms shaking as he held her up to take all of his release inside her, and she felt the shudder of both their sexes clutching the other, and Kenzie felt once more that she didn’t know where Duncan began, where she ended, where her body broke away from his, but felt that his length inside her was the true state of being for both of them, the one true contentment.
Duncan let her down, planting a dozen kisses on her mouth and cheeks and hair, and they showered quietly together after that--Kenzie could see the solemnity in him, see that he felt the strange thing coming, too, whatever it might be. What was it. What was going to happen? But he also seemed to sense that it was unstoppable. I’m here, baby, she thought, catching his blue eyes, holding them. Don’t worry. Don’t be afraid. I’m here. I’m with you even when we’re not together. You know I am. I’ll be thinking of you all day.
Today Kenzie chose a little black v-neck dress with sleeves that tied on the upper arm; it was covered in print of tiny golden flowers and dots and fell only to her thighs. Summer is here and summer is for tiny dresses, she thought, slipping on her black triple moon necklace (Fates, three-headed goddess, bless him today), watching Duncan watch her, loving the intensity of his eyes, loving his love for her there. She buckled on a simple pair of black heeled sandals and sipped at her coffee, long cold, watching him. It was going to be warm today, but Duncan had chosen a long-sleeved black mock neck shirt and a tailored black blazer; his uniform, Kenzie thought, coming up to him, drifting a hand down the lapel as he buckled on his black Movado. It’s like armor.
“I’m nervous, baby,” he whispered, looking down, sighing. “I suddenly feel like this meeting is somehow a mistake. Mom doesn’t know I’m meeting with Claire Underwood--nobody does, honestly. And I have no idea what she’ll say to me. I want to help...I want to fix the rupture between the White House and Shepherd Unlimited. But maybe Claire doesn’t. Maybe I’m alone in that. Maybe I won’t say what she wants to hear.”
“You have to try, right?” Kenzie reached up to his cheek, I’m so in love with the stubble here, it’s as innate a part of him as anything else, I think I’d be heartbroken if ever if he decided to shave it away more often. The feeling of it in my fingers is the deepest comfort to me. She breathed in the close smell of him; cedar, jasmine, woods in the rain. His hand drifted down her hair, his lips pressing to her temple.
“Just think of my gold all around you today, baby,” she whispered, and felt him nod against her. “I’m there with you, even though you won’t be able to see me. I’ll be invisible, but I’ll be there. I was thinking--when you buy the Post I can write something, something about the new model for the company, and we can set the record straight, publically.”
Duncan’s smile melted down onto her. “That would be perfect, Kenzie. If you’d do that, it would be such a comfort to me.”
“Then you know I will. I love you, baby.” Kenzie pressed her cheek into the warmth of his chest, her head against his ribcage. She could hear his heart beating too fast against her ear; she pressed into him, pressed a wave of love, and she heard it slow a little, to her satisfaction. You are not a bad person, she thought. You are beautiful and good, and you were before we met, and I reminded you--I pushed the shadows away from your heart, and kissed it with abandon.
Duncan’s hand came to her cheek, holding her against him, and their minds drifted against each other until Kenzie heard her phone chime on the nightstand--Samuel and Harris, waiting downstairs, time for work, Kenzie, time for strangers to snap photos of both of you, time for paps to chase you to the door, the world always waiting for them, the day ready to pull them away from each other again. She’d be driving with them alone today, too--Duncan had work to do at home before the meeting, finishing correspondence with Gala coordinators, various episode and app duties for Gardner Analytics.
“I’ll find some good ghost story books while I’m at work today,” Kenzie said, slinging her satchel over her shoulder as Duncan walked with her to the penthouse door. He went to a cupboard in the kitchen, pulling down a packaged granola bar, opening the fridge and retrieving a golden pear from the middle shelf, which always seemed to have an abundance of fruit--he came up to her and slipped them inside her satchel, giving her a chaste kiss as he did. His eyes still looked worried, hazy--but a little of the feeling she’d pushed into him seemed to be calming him now, seemed to linger, and that was good.
“Do you get scared easily, baby?” She trailed two fingers down the dark blazer over his arm.
“As a matter of fact, I do. When I was little I accidentally saw The Exorcist on TV and needed a night light for the next three years. Now you know my other weakness.”
“Wahaha!” Kenzie hopped on her heels, advancing on him, tickling her fingers into his sides. Duncan grinned. “Stop, fuck, Kenzie, don’t--”
“I’ll read you ghost stories and scare you and then I’ll tickle you to death--” Kenzie was murmuring up into his ear, her hands still flitting over him, and Duncan’s much larger, stronger hands came out to grip her under her elbows, forcing her closer to him, his mouth searching for her, finding her cheek, the space under her ear. “Ugh, don’t, baby, just kiss me, I can’t wait to kiss you under the stars, I can’t wait, we’ll sleep until noon every day--”
“Soon, baby, so soon,” Kenzie heard her phone chime again, knew she was going to be late if she didn’t leave now, but she ached at the knowledge that she’d have to leave his cocoon in a moment, leave the circle of his scent, his body, his mouth. “Kiss me, Dunny, then I have to go--” and Duncan leaned down and kissed her, his lips flush to her, and she thought let this moment linger with me all day, let him feel it too when he’s afraid and she pulled away from the taste of him with agony, and ran away from him, her hair tossing back, afraid that if she didn’t, if she looked into his eyes again, she simply wouldn’t be able to go at all.
--------
Kenzie tried to focus on her work; it had been several days since she’d really been present at the Post, after all, and she felt vague and far away from it, disconnected from the usual flow of emails, copy, and writing anything in general, worrying over Duncan’s meeting, thinking about the Gala tomorrow, continually going back to the photos on her phone from Claire, feeling her nerves thrill every time her eyes fell over the dress--it’s truly spectacular; I’m going to FEEL so beautiful in it. We both will--we’ll be together. And everyone will see. Everyone. Her stomach dropped, did somersaults, and she felt hot and cold at once. Kenzie realized that she was now, truly, beginning to feel as though she belonged in Duncan’s world. And my connection to this one is fading, isn’t it. Soon, the door to the other things I’m supposed to do is going to open. And I have to go through. I have to help Duncan turn the company into something good. And I think--as much as I’ve always loved being a journalist--I think I need to write my book. I think, now that I’ve found him, now that we’re finally together. I think it’s time. Like this was the thing I was waiting for, the thing I needed to inspire me to do what I’ve always wanted to do.
She gazed over Duncan’s Instagram profile, absently, turning away from her emails; oh my god, I hadn’t realized he took a picture of me in the car yesterday. And it’s lovely. She read his caption, her face flushing with heat. On our way to talk to @vanityfair, did you know my @kenzielouwho has a beautiful singing voice? #comeletmeloveyou #letmegivemylifetoyou There were thousands of comments on it now (Kenzie realized Duncan’s profile now had over 9 million followers--god, what’s going to happen when we announce the changes in the company, she thought, balking) and over 200k likes, and she winced as she peeked at them, noticing the #duckenzie hashtag almost alarmingly often. But most of the comments were sweet, lovely, adoring: #duckenzie are legitimately the most beautiful love of all time, while many others were openly lustful: #duckenzie lol more like #fuckenzie, I want these two humans to sit on my face.
We have some real, uh, fans out there, this is so fucking surreal, Kenzie thought. God, if you had told the Kenzie from just a month ago that this would be her life now, I would’ve told you you were insane. Old Kenzie would have burst out laughing if you’d told her she’d have a bodyguard hanging out with her all day for the rest of her life or--I don’t fucking know, for a long time, she thought, glancing up at Harris. So that’s been an odd thing to adjust to. But I’m starting to get used to him being around. He was staring down at his phone, his sepia-colored eyes smiling at the screen from his seat by the elevators. Maybe he’s talking to Claire, and the thought made her smile. She went back and forth for awhile about mentioning Duncan’s plans to buy the Post to Candice, but decided it was still probably best to postpone that conversation until after things were more settled.
There had been a large crowd of paps outside One Franklin Square today too, as seemed to be the new normal now (Duncan seemed to think their interest would fade over time, but something tells me that time is far away), but Kenzie no longer felt the twinge of fear that she’d initially experienced; I’m gonna make them do what I want them to do, she thought. If I have to have them around, I’m going to get them to work around me, be respectful of me. I can accept this if it’s the price I have to pay for Duncan and I to be together.
She’d paused today to talk to Sissy Conners, who had been wearing a very tight beige bodycon dress and many tiny gold necklaces with heart charms--Kenzie had noticed her nails were dark purple when the other woman had pushed a microphone out under her chin, and she quietly, calmly answered questions for a moment, mentally humming the din of voices and cameras, plastering a sweet smile on her face, taking off her round sunglasses to look the other woman in the eye. They love me. They’re already a lot calmer than they have been lately--it was how I was with those girls. It affected them. They saw that and they loved it. Not sure how long this will last, but I think I’m getting the hang of it, anyway. After a few questions about their Instagrams and Annette, Sissy had asked her “and who are you wearing to the Gala tomorrow?” in a simpering voice.
“Morgan Winthrop,” Kenzie had replied proudly. “And Duncan is too. She’s a close personal friend and what she’s done for us for the Gala is truly extraordinary, I can’t wait for everyone to see tomorrow.” Kenzie had turned and ducked through the doorway after that--exposure for Morgan, but leave them hanging a little.
Around lunch Kenzie asked Harris to go on a walk with her to her favorite corner store, and she dipped her round sunglasses back over her eyes, his large form hovering near her shoulder as she perused the aisles, choosing a chicken salad sandwich on multigrain bread and a little fruit salad with grapes, watermelon and pineapple, asking him shyly to hold two bottles of Evian in his large fingers. She watched him carefully check the aisles as she walked down them--a tall young man with squarish glasses and tattoos standing by rows of snacks was staring at her intently, knowingly, until he noticed Harris, then he nervously looked away.
“Harris,” she asked, glancing at him over the rim of the sunglasses, smiling coyly. “Did you talk to Claire?” A woman with a small toddler in her arms walked past them, her eyes peering at Kenzie intently. Got another one here, Kenzie thought, but the woman kept going, giving her a shy smile and a little wave. Kenzie smiled back at her, then looked back at Harris.
Her bodyguard, huge and imposing as he was, blushed instantly down at her, his infectious, friendly grin bursting over his face. “I certainly did, Miss Mackenzie. We’re going out on Saturday. To a jazz club I’m partial to. Miss Claire is kind enough to humor me there.”
“Ugh, yes, Harris, yes!” Kenzie couldn’t stop herself; she hopped back on her heels, then threw her arms around his large form, feeling her hair toss around the back of her arms, almost dropping the packaged food she was holding. He laughed, hesitated, then said, “I don’t know what it is, Miss Mackenzie, but somehow it feels as though you were a great help in all of this--an essential help to me. Thank you for that.”
“Harris, I’d do anything for you and I’d do anything for Claire. You’ll see--you’ll see how wonderful she is. Yes, yes, yes! God, that makes me so happy.” Kenzie thought of her dear Claire; Claire’s open smile and her tear-prone eyes, her pink lipstain, her blonde shag, her colorful patterned dresses. My Clairebear and Harris together. Ugh, I love it so much. All my dreams are coming true, even the dreams I have for the people I love so dearly.
A couple passed her, the girl with long dark hair and a bright smile in a pink dress with a full skirt and a denim jacket, the boy with a sandy-colored beard and a graphic tee for a beer company. They were chatting amiably, looking along the shelf of packaged snacks beside her, when the girl glanced over at her and made a gasping sound. “Oh my god,” Kenzie heard her whisper to the guy beside her. “That’s Mackenzie Stone, isn’t it? Oh fuck, oh shit.” “Go ask her for a photo,” the boy whispered audibly. Kenzie shyly tucked the hair falling over her shoulder behind her ear. She saw that Harris was watching them carefully. The girl glanced at her, noticed that she had noticed them, and blushed, her eyes blinking rapidly.
“Are you--are you Mackenzie Stone?”
Kenzie smiled a little, nervously. “Yeah. Yes. Hi.”
“Oh my god, your Instagram is absolutely my favorite thing, you and Duncan Shepherd, like wow, can I--can I take a photo with you? I love your dress so much, oh that photo he took of you yesterday, that was so beautiful--”
“Sure, yeah, okay. I love your dress too--you look so cute with that denim jacket.” Kenzie smiled at her, taking her sunglasses off, letting the girl dip her arm around her waist, both of them turning to the girl’s friend as he snapped a photo with his phone. God, what even is my life now. Everyone I’ve made eye contact with in this store so far has seemed to recognize me.
“Thank you so much, Kenzie! Duckenzie forever!” The girl smiled brightly at her, her expression elated, and she and her friend walked away--Kenzie could see the girl whispering excitedly into his ear, looking down at the photo he had taken of them, gleeful.
“Miss Mackenzie, you are so kind to everyone. More people would do well to be like you.” Harris was looking at her with an expression that Kenzie couldn’t quite read--adoring was the word that came to mind, and she pushed it away.
“I just think--if I saw someone who I really like and asked them for a photo, I’d hope they’d say yes,” Kenzie blushed. “I’m--this is all so new. But people have been really lovely. I think people are generally okay. Most people are good, they just--they just need someone to be kind to them, too.”
“As you say, Miss Mackenzie.”
She stepped towards the checkout counter and Harris followed close behind--Kenzie took the lunch items he’d chosen for himself and put everything together, the cashier ringing it up as he began to protest. “It’s Duncan’s card anyway,” Kenzie laughed a little. “He wants me to use it, so I’m using it.” The cashier was an older woman Kenzie knew well--Tippy, who always wore huge glasses and had her hair in two long braids, her gold tooth glinting at Kenzie as she smiled.
“Oh hello there, Miss Mackenzie Stone,” she laughed. “Glad that you’re still coming around to visit us regular folks, now that you’ve been living in the clouds. Ooo, now look at this card.”
“I really have, Tippy,” Kenzie shook her head. “I can’t believe it myself.”
“You look beautiful today. All that love. Get it, girl.” Tippy handed her a plastic bag with their lunches in it. “But get those Shepherds to share some money with the rest of us.”
“Working on it, Tippy,” Kenzie nodded, and slipped her sunglasses back over her eyes. All that love, indeed.
-------
Kenzie had found a few good ghost story books online between the work she did that day--she’d begun a new editorial on Claire Underwood’s recent nominee to the Supreme Court, undoubtedly another work Annette Shepherd would frown upon (but something happened between Annette and I yesterday, and now I’m not so sure--maybe she can change, too). Kenzie added several to her online cart: a beautifully bound edition of the tales of M.R. James, one edited by a famous horror historian, and one that had been edited by Roald Dahl. She typed her new address into the checkout, shaking her head in wonder again--oh, here you go, the address to my penthouse. Please deliver all packages there in the future. Like, WHAT. Kenzie ordered a few down quilts, a pile of other bedding, and a fireside cooking kit--for all the sleeping and bonfire building, she thought excitedly. I can’t wait to kiss you under the stars, away from the madding crowd, beloved. She went to a few online clothes retailers as well, searching for summer looks; Duncan fucking loves my clothes, which is fine by me. I love clothes too. And that’s what he gave me the card for. I can’t deny that being able to buy whatever I want is fucking amazing. It’s hard to resist.
It was past 5 by then; Kenzie looked at her phone, a sudden wave of apprehension falling over her. No messages from Duncan today. That’s odd. She’d sent him a text a few hours ago, mentioning her shopping with smiling faces and arrow-pierced hearts and ghost emojis. But no reply. That’s not like him. She remembered the strange feeling she’d had this morning, felt the claws of it hook into her mind again. She sent him another text.
Hope everything went okay with You Know Who today, baby. When do you think you’ll be home? What should we do for dinner? Are you with Samuel? I was about to text him, I’m done with work for today.
She gazed at her phone for awhile, heart thumping. Still no reply. She glanced up to Harris in the corner, and he smiled at her, then his expression turned to one of concern at her face. Kenzie stood, slipping her Macbook into her satchel, clutching her phone in a hand that had begun to shake, to her dismay. She stepped up to him, biting her lip.
“Miss Mackenzie, is everything alright?”
“Duncan just hasn’t replied to any of my messages today, which isn’t like him. He had a really important meeting today and now...now I’m worried about him.”
“I’m sure everything is fine, Miss Mackenzie. You know how his meetings are. Sometimes he can’t get out of them for quite awhile. Remember the day of the incident--he said he didn’t have access to his phone.”
“Yeah...but his meeting was around 2. It’s been three hours. Umm. I guess I’ll text Samuel.” Kenzie looked down at her phone, and noticed with an intense wave of relief that she had a text from Duncan, not having noticed her phone was on silent.
Kenzie, something happened. I’m not with Samuel. I have to go talk to my mother and my Uncle. I don’t know how long this is going to take. Just eat dinner without me. I’ll message you when I’m on my way home.
Oh my god, Kenzie thought. This message. Something is really wrong. There was a deeply distressing feeling to the text that made her blood immediately go cold. He’s really upset. What happened. Oh god baby, what happened. Kenzie looked up at Harris and he stood, his large arm immediately coming around her shoulder.
“Miss Mackenzie.”
“I want to go home now, Harris.”
“As you say, Miss Mackenzie. Is Mr. Shepherd alright?”
“I don’t know, Harris. He just sent me a strange message. But I think I need to go home. I think I need to be there when he gets home. I think...I think he needs me.” Something happened that has hurt him very much. What on earth? Kenzie could feel a needling, latent pain in the text, one that made her stomach flip. Oh god, fuck, oh god. What is it. She sent a text to Samuel, and (oh god, thank you Samuel) he replied almost immediately that he was en route, ten minutes away. Kenzie shakily grasped her sunglasses from her bag, pushing them over her eyes. Can’t let the paps see that I’m upset. All the work I’ve been doing to get them on my side would go right out the window with that. Oh my god, I wish Duncan was here. I wish I could hold him right now. God, what happened.
As Samuel had promised, a text dinged through her phone a short while later--Kenzie had replied to Duncan in the meantime (I’ll be home, baby, I love you so much, whatever happened I’m here and I can’t wait to hold you), and now she was chewing her thumbnail, her eyes skirting back and forth from her phone (no reply from Duncan) to Harris. Her bodyguard whisked her downstairs and she moved past the paps who still lingered, covering her face with a shaking hand as Harris shielded her from most of their camera shots--the telltale BMW sat on the curb and Harris held the door for her as she slid into the backseat, Samuel’s kind face gazing at her through the rearview, Harris sliding in beside him quickly, snapping the door as Samuel put his foot on the gas. She felt her heart soothe immediately as she heard the strains of music that pumped through the speakers: oh mirror in the sky, what is love?, can the child within my heart rise above, can I sail through the changing ocean tides, can I handle the seasons of my life…
“Miss Mackenzie, what is wrong.” Samuel’s eyes were knowing, full of empathy. Kenzie slid the sunglasses from her eyes, looking down at her hands as they drifted into rush hour traffic. The afternoon sun dipped behind a cloud and she could feel Harris glancing back at her with concern.
“I don’t know, Samuel. Something happened to Duncan. He had a meeting with the President today--he was so nervous about it, I’ve been so nervous for him--he didn’t message me all day and then he just did, finally, and he sounded terrible--and god I don’t know what happened but I’m so afraid for him--” Kenzie felt her voice crack and she couldn’t stop it, couldn’t stave off the sudden sob that fell from her. She threw her face into her hands, feeling the tears falling through her fingers. “I don’t know why but I just feel so sad for him, I don’t know, I just wish I knew what happened--”
Harris reached a large hand through the partition window, reaching out for her. Kenzie grasped his large fingers, wetting them with her tears, sniffling piteously, closing her eyes, trying to gather herself. Samuel passed Harris a tissue and he dipped it through the window.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you, Harris. Thank you, Samuel. I’m sorry. I don’t even know what happened. But I have such a terrible feeling. Like I can feel--whatever it was, whatever happened. I can feel how much it hurts him.”
“You and Mr. Shepherd have a connection unlike anything I have ever seen before,” Samuel said, his voice quiet and soothing. The car drifted finally out of the congestion of the traffic, and smoothly headed to Georgetown. “I do not doubt that you can feel some of what he feels, whether you are near or far from each other. It’s juju between you--the feeling of each other. There are not many in this world with that much feeling for another person. But if you feel that he is full of sadness, I don’t doubt you. You will comfort him. I know you will. You are his bright star.”
“I just wish--I just want him to come home.”
“Be patient, Miss Mackenzie. All things that are meaningful in life are made of hardship. You are together because you will help each other survive the pain of living.”
Kenzie felt too overwhelmed to speak--knew if she tried to, she’d burst into tears again. Samuel turned the dial up on the stereo--Stevie’s voice drifted over Kenzie, soothing, knowing. Well I’ve been ‘fraid of changing, cuz I’ve built my life around you, but time makes you bolder, even children get older, and I’m gettin’ older too, well I’m...gettin’ older...too…
--------
Anchaly looked up at her with concern as Kenzie walked into the high-rise’s foyer alone--Samuel and Harris had both asked if they could escort her upstairs, but Kenzie shook her head. Honestly, the only person I want to see right now is Duncan--and if I need to cry I should cry now. I need to gather my strength for him. I feel it. He feels alone. I have to reassure him that he isn’t.
“Miss Mackenzie, a package arrived today from Cartier. I had it sent up to the penthouse.”
Kenzie blinked at him from behind her sunglasses, aware that her cheeks were visibly tearstained. Cartier. What. Duncan. More presents. Oh, baby. How I wish you were back so I could fucking hold you.
“Mackenzie. Are you alright?” Anchaly’s face clouded, and he closed The Year of Magical Thinking, which Kenzie could see he was already almost done with.
“I’m--yes, I’m okay. Thanks, Anchaly. When Duncan gets back, tell him I’m home, will you?”
“Of course, Miss Stone.”
Kenzie managed to hold off until she made it inside the elevator--as the gold doors slid shut, she slipped her sunglasses from her eyes, took one look at her tear-streaked face, and began to cry again. She buried her face in her hands and cried--cried all the way to the penthouse door, cried to see the lovely little red boxes that rested quietly on the center island as she shut it behind her. She dared not touch them--whatever they are, I could never look at them without him. Kenzie dropped her satchel to the tile in the kitchen, unbuckling her sandals, still sobbing, her shoulders shuddering with her tears. She felt exhausted--her mind was aching with the sadness she could feel from him, the wave of it sent out, impossibly, through the city, cascading 30 stories up to her. Come home to me, my love, come to me so I can hold you in my arms, she prayed. You aren’t alone, not as long as I’m in this world. Come home, come home.
Before Kenzie even knew what she was doing, she’d collapsed into the quiet black cover of the duvet in the bedroom, barefoot, the hair around her face damp from her crying, and as she clutched the pillow to her tear-soaked face, her sobs began to quiet, and without realizing it, she fell asleep.
-----
She woke to his arms clutching her, his nose against her cheek, his breath ragged in her ear, as if he’d run or held his breath for too long. Kenzie jolted awake--she immediately pressed against him, lifted up into him, immediately twined her fingers around the back of his hair, deep into his burnt amber curls, and a little sound of relief and agony escaped from her throat, muffled against his dark shirt, terribly soft against her, the smell of him (the woods of you, my love) immediately bringing tears into her eyes again. The light was low, but hadn’t yet faded--sunset was seeping into the bedroom, and she could see the hunched shape of him against her, the outline of the sadness she’d felt, a sadness so deep I felt it across the city. I felt your sorrow.
He was so quiet for a moment, his eyes squeezed shut against her, his face down, refusing to look at her--his quietness struck fear into her heart again, and Kenzie whispered “Oh, baby, what happened, please tell me, I felt you, I felt your heart breaking, I can feel it still, I’m here, I’m here--” and he still didn’t speak, just buried his face against her, and she could feel, with wrenching clarity, the dampness of his tears against her shoulder, pattering through the wave of her hair there. He was shuddering into her now--he was truly crying, and she felt the breaking of his heart again, the rending of it, the softness of it dissolving against her. My beloved, your pain is mine, oh Duncan, how I wish I could take this from you, bear it for you, whatever it is, I don’t care, I would take it away if I could.
She held him--the light continued to fade and his tears soaked the back of her dress, soaked her hair, and Kenzie felt her own tears murmuring at the edge of her mind again. She clutched him with all her strength, and Kenzie thought it doesn’t matter my love, cry as long as you need to, with me you can cry, with me your heart can be broken and I will kiss every piece of it and sew it back together.
The minutes wore on--Kenzie stroked Duncan’s hair, stroked down his back, stroked his wet cheek, the corners of his eyes, wiping the dampness away. The pain inside him was jumbled, too loud--she couldn’t find a foothold in it, couldn’t see his thoughts clearly, just their sharpness, just their pain. Finally, his eyes opened to her--the intensity of the hurt she could see reflected in them snatched her breath away. Blue fire, but this fire is like the depth of the flame, the center of it, dying and desperate, lit with painful heat.
“Annette is not my real mother,” Duncan said, and his lip trembled in the fading light of the evening. His eyes burned.
“What.”
“Claire Underwood. I had such a bad feeling today--like I knew she wouldn’t be happy to see me. Like she assumed I was there to betray her. I thought I was asking to see her, but really, she was inviting me in--luring me. Because she thinks I’ll do whatever it takes to bring her down.”
“Baby--what do you mean. What are you talking about?”
“She told me to ask Annette where I came from. She asked me about my first memory with my mother--my first--” Duncan pulled away from her, rushed away from her through the bedroom door. Kenzie went after him, her heart in her mouth--she saw him disappear into his study and ran into the room behind him, hand pressed to her lips.
Her eyes fell on him, leaning over his desk--he was gripping a gold-framed photo that rested there, a photograph Kenzie had noticed the day she stayed home, hanging her photos in the bathroom, organizing her birds beside the Atlas paperweight. In the photo, a younger Annette (the Annette I’ve only glimpsed once or twice, and then only for a moment) was clutching a very small Duncan in her arms, her eyes full of joy, her expression radiant. In the photo Duncan couldn’t have been older than 3 or 4, maybe even younger--his hair was falling back and his little eyes were closed, a giggle of laughter on his face, his cheeks bright. They were both in sweaters--it seemed like it had been a chilly autumn day and the light was sweet and low, almost sepia.
“This is my first memory of her.” Duncan brought it over to her, and Kenzie could see the silent tears still staining his cheeks. “I told Claire about it. I told her that--that this is how I like to think of her. Happy like this. Instead of cold and cruel as she can be so often. And then Claire told me to ask my mother--ask Annette--where I came from. So I went to see her and my Uncle. Bill was angry that I went to see Claire without telling them--he’s not well and he was raving. And then I--I told Annette what Claire had said. And then...then I knew, Kenzie. From the look on her face. I knew. She’s not my mother.”
Oh, Duncan.
“Did she say anything?”
“No. She walked away from me--she told Seth something, something about telling everyone Claire had an abortion when she was younger. Something to blackmail her. In that moment, she didn’t even care enough to explain--she only thought of how to get back at Claire. I couldn’t stay any longer. I couldn’t fucking bear it, baby. I couldn’t--” Duncan tossed the photo onto his desk with a careless, devastated gesture--it cracked against the mahogany surface, and the frame snapped apart, falling face-down.
Suddenly, a wave of hot anger washed over Kenzie, and she wrapped her arms around Duncan’s waist, clutching him against her--he held her tightly, his face against the top of her head, and she could feel the racking of his body as he tried to hold his sobs in. Annette. You’ve never really cared about how Duncan feels--what really matters to him, or how what you do and say affects him, or what really moves him, touches him. About what he loves. You never bothered to try to nurture all the loveliness I see in him. You tried to steel him from the world, but you forgot, or you’ve never known in the first place, that his tenderness is what makes him so easy to love. How could you. How could you be so cold? How could you keep this from him for so long and let him find out from someone who wanted to hurt him?
“Who the fuck am I, Kenzie?” She heard his voice crack; heard the desperate sadness, the loneliness.
“You’re the person I love most in all the world, Duncan.” Kenzie turned her face up to him, looking into his face, aching with the love she felt for him, speaking quietly into him, her words for him and him alone, lost in the loveliness of his face despite the depth of sorrow she could see creasing it--she reached her hand up to his cheek, and he looked down at her, eyes glittering with tears. “You’re my beloved and you are greater to me than every star in the sky. You are the one I love. That’s all I know, and all I need to know.”
“I love you, Kenzie, I love you, but I’m not a fucking Shepherd, I’m nobody, I’m no one, baby--”
“You are not no one. Don’t say that. Without you--I couldn’t--I couldn’t bear anything again without you, Duncan, I don’t love you because you’re a Shepherd, that doesn’t matter and it never did, it never fucking mattered, what matters is you, your soul is what I love--”
She saw his face crumble again--saw his tears glitter as they fell in the fading light.
“Baby--baby, I know what to do.” She stroked at his shoulders, at his arms, his elbows, gently, feeling the warmth of him, the weight of him under the dark fabric. He wiped at his eyes.
“What, baby? Tell me what to do. I’ll do whatever you want. I feel so lost.”
“Shhh. I’m here. Let’s go see Momby. Let’s tell her what happened. I love you, and my Momby loves you, and she’d love to see you, and we can have dinner with her, and you’ll love her warm house and we’ll sit on her deck with her and smoke some weed and watch the moon rise, okay? Let’s go see her.”
He was nodding. “Yes. Yes. I’d really like to see her. I’d really like that. Yes, baby. Yes, please.”
Kenzie grasped his hand, kissed his mouth, his tear-stained cheeks, raising herself to her tip-toes. I’m here baby. I’m here. Together, we’ll survive the pain of living. I promise. Now, let’s go see my Momby, who loves you almost as much as I do. Momby will know what to do.
BODY AND SOUL Part 27 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)
BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST
Author’s Note: I always knew the cabin stuff was gonna be pretty long; this is ostensibly Part 1 of 3 that involve the cabin and the narrative surrounding it, a major part of my fic. Please refer to this in particular, which was a major influence on the mythology I’ve built around this particular place--especially the black oak circle--and its connection with Duckenzie’s destiny. I’m so excited for all of you who have reached this part of their journey with them; while I’m using these chapters as an excuse to write LOTS of sex and doting for them (which I fucking live for), they’re also really important to the arc of the wider narrative I’ve been weaving from the beginning; the crux of what pulled this fic out of the relatively small story I had originally planned into something huge and cosmically beautiful--a project that has changed my life, a project I will finish, or die in the attempt thereof. The cabin’s kitchen looks like this. Duncan’s herb grinder is this one, for y’all stoners like me who care about shit like that. Sweet alyssum looks like this (here’s some in pink and white). The mental picture of Duncan with those little flowers in his hair is such a beautiful one to me. A reminder that Kenzie’s bikini looks like this, the rust-colored slip dress looks like this. In order to really understand a major aspect of my story, I feel it’s important to read a little about the concept of the Divine Feminine, a major tenant of witchcraft--I’m a solitary practitioner, and though my Kenzie is not overtly Pagan, she is Pagan-minded regarding how she conducts her life; coming to understand her powers will bring her closer to owning her witch identity for real. The Divine Feminine in my story is certainly not limited to Kenzie, either, and it’s very important that everyone who cares about Duckenzie understands that; Duncan learning to nurture, understand and respect his own feminine divinity, within and outside of his relationship with Kenzie, is a huge aspect of this story. Kenzie kneeling in the flowers was definitely inspired by these shots of Mallory in APOCALYPSE. The spiral of the flowers is not coincidental--the spiral is a very old symbol, symbolizing the cyclical nature of the universe and everything in it, so keep that in mind. If you haven’t noticed, roses are an important part of the imagery of my story--the working title for this fic was DARK RED ROSES once upon a time for like half a second, and Duncan calls her the Queen of Roses in his thoughts because they will forever be associated with her in his mind--it was that rosy balcony where he first saw her, and like the clearing surrounded by black oaks, the balcony was a Thin Place. I’ve been working hard on 28, so that delayed me editing this part--the good news is I’ll probably be done with 28 by the end of the day tomorrow. Here are some super cute pics I found of Billie where she really looks like Kenzie. As ever, your likes, reblogs, comments, asks and edits mean the world to me.
Duncan’s mouth was open on the fiercely soft skin above Kenzie’s breasts, drifting against the Tiffany moon, his hands urgently searching for the tie that held her sun-colored top over them, his mind adrift in her with an overwhelming strength that was making him gasp--the bed was so silken-soft, the light so sweet and golden in the daylight, and the energy in the room seemed suddenly hazy with the weight of their thoughts; Kenzie’s were rapid, heightened, pressing him with mutual relief, kindling up a desire in him that inflamed.
“Oh my fucking goddess, baby--fucking fuck me.”
Queen of Roses. Not just the Princess. The Queen. The highest and most beautiful. The height of all my desires and every pleasure of my heart.
“Oh, I fucking will, Miss Stone,” he spoke into her skin, against her neck, into her ear. “I heard you, baby. We have nowhere to be. This is the only place in the world, and there’s only you and me, and I’m gonna make you fucking scream, I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good, Kenzie, moonbeam--” Kenzie writhed under his touch, a nervous, ecstatic laugh drifting out of her.
He found the tie at her waist as his mouth fell onto hers again--oh thank Fate, fuck--his fingers demandingly pulling it apart, drawing the soft fabric away from her, eager beyond all feeling to touch her. Since this morning, her little mouth so adoring around him, his senses for her had been urging him on to a desirous undoing for her--Mackenzie. Kenzie. Baby. My fucking baby. As wonderful as it is to taste you, as exquisite as it is to have your mouth on me, beloved, it’s fucking you, fucking you as we gasp against each other that brings us closest, so irrevocably close, kindles that feeling in me of not knowing where I start when I’m inside you, not feeling the divide of our bodies anymore, never wanting to come away, feeling truly as though wherever we were once separated, we’re tied together again, whole. So before we do anything else today, I’m going to fuck you. Right now. Fuck me, beloved, and let’s get lost in each other, my Persephone, my Ariadne bathed in stars, my Titania of the flowering forest.
Kenzie was lifting up as he gripped her in the space under her shoulder blades, her eyes heavy-lidded as she listened to his thoughts; he easily held her slight weight, keeping his grasp wildly tender. She pushed the top from her arms, and Duncan was lowering her back to the bed (oh fuck it’s so fucking soft, I could lay here with you all day, for days and days), her golden hair scattering around her in a wide halo, his fingers clutched tight around the roundness of her breasts now--he’d slipped them under the softness of her little black bikini top, and Kenzie’s slender chest was heaving, her breathing labored with the immediacy of his touch as he kneaded his palms into her supple skin. He could feel the tiny fluttering vibration of her heart under his thumbs, and it was making his cock jump against the front of the jersey shorts, urging him to make her moan. Speak, angel. Tell me of your need in this sacred space that exists only for us right now.
Kenzie’s little fingers (so delicate, so sweet and small, I love your hands, Kenzie baby) were drifting up to his open collar, undoing the buttons below with gentle speed, their smoothness sending a burst of shivering warmth down his spine, into the space between his legs where his cock was beginning to strain as he knelt over her, his body dipped down on her. Her mouth was so wet and tasted so sweet, her little tongue quivering against his, the tiny longing sounds she made under his lips, and he fought the faintness she was causing; it was gathering like wild, stray flowers, into a bloom in his mind. Fuck, I want you so much, I feel like I’m going to actually pass out, baby.
“I could just die,” she was whispering. “The way I can feel you right now, the way you touch me, baby, the sweetness of your thoughts, how beautiful you are--Duncan, baby, how you kiss me--”
“Remember that first night, Kenzie,” he was murmuring into her mouth, his fingers drifting down the jut of her hip bones, into the denim shorts, down the prickly slightness of the shorn hair around the lips of her sex, letting his fingers hover there. “Remember when you first let me kiss you, angel of heaven? Your little velvet dress, the crystal at your throat, those shoes that left red welts on your beautiful little ankles--remember how you told me you’d come home with me? God, I thought I was going to die right then.” Duncan was drifting the hand up from her sex now--I’m gonna tease you a little, angel baby. We have all the time in the world. I’m gonna make you so fucking wet. Drifting it to the button of her shorts, pulling the zipper down with an ease that brought a wet glow into her jade-hazel eyes, her little mouth open as she listened to him speak, releasing tiny gasps, her thoughts swirling and chaotic with want for him. The soft black of the bikini bottoms peeked from where he’d opened the zipper, and Duncan brought the flat of one palm against the mound of her there, the softness between her legs, using his other hand to pull slowly at the shorts. Kenzie wiggled a little from where he held her down, and the shorts eased off her thighs after a moment. She kicked her Vans off and they tumbled to the floor--then Duncan was dipping back to yank the shorts away, discarding them to the floor as well, kicking his own shoes off, lost in admiration of her body in the bikini. Kenzie’s little hands had managed to undo every button of his shirt now, and he ripped it away, impatiently, mouth still shivering into hers--then he lifted up, pressing his hand harshly between her legs again, heart aching at the whimper that fell out of her, and then Duncan smiled.
“For you, Kenzie, I surrendered my soul in an instant. I may not have really understood that in the moment--but I do now. I would do anything for you.” And this he spoke into her jaw, lips drifting along its delicate curve. “Anything. You--an angel. In my bed, and now that bed is ours, and right now this one is too, isn’t it, baby? This is our bed.”
“Yes,” Kenzie whispered, and the pleading in her voice made him bite his lip, close his eyes, force his need back with an insistent hand. “Yes, fuck, Duncan, yes, hmmmh,” and she was kneading against him, moving her hips so she pressed into his hand cupped around her, “Gimme your big cock in this beautiful bed, fuck me, Dunny baby--”
He moved his fingers down now, to the crook where her thighs began on either side of her cunt, and pressed outward, then up, so her knees were pressing into her belly, the underside of her thighs clutched in his tight grip, the lips of her visibly folding into the slight fabric covering her sex. Kenzie moaned again, her eyes closing at the demand of his movements; now I have you right where I want you, Princess Kenzie, and I’m gonna make you want my cock with terrible, aching need before I give it to you, before I fuck you hard. I know you want me to--I can feel the golden coil of your desire, telling me what you need.
“Who’s your Prince, baby?” Duncan dipped his hips down so his crotch rode up against hers, against the strain of her cunt still wrapped tightly in the dark fabric, lifted his body up so they were flush against each other there, the hardness of his erection pressing into the outline of her, then back down, causing an aching friction that sent sharp needles of want through him--he felt Kenzie shudder deeply, her thighs shivering violently under where his hands gripped them harshly, felt her cunt spasm along his length, and her head dipped up, her hands finding his jaw, flitting over the stubble on his cheeks, her little mouth open, beginning to abandon all sense of her composure.
“Uhmmm, you are, Dunny, only you, you’re my angel Prince--I want you to fuck me till I’m raw--”
“Not until you tell me whose baby you are. Tell me who you belong to, baby.”
“Unh, you. I belong to you.”
“Say it again.” He let go of her thighs now, pushing himself against her again, as harshly as he could, riding his cock against the fabric that contained them, his hands clutching her little wrists and forcing her arms up over her head, straining them against the silken strands of her golden hair fanning out around her head--like your halo. I will bring you sweetest ecstasy, my goddess, I will worship you most faithfully for all my life, I ache to be your most supplicant admirer, truly, you must know that I do, you must know that I would die for you, I would die and love to die if it was what you wanted--
“I belong to you, Duncan. I’m yours forever. Fucking please--” Her voice needled up into a piteous cry that made him feel as though his mind were about to come undone, unhinge from itself and float away into the ether of oblivion. His mouth tasted at her, cutting her words off, swallowing her cry, his fists pressing her wrists down into the impossibly soft bed, pressing so hard he worried for a moment that he’d leave bruises on her skin, but could feel her thought--leave them, I want bruises from you, beloved, I want to see your devotions on my skin--and the sweet softness of her mouth was promising him that she meant it, her tongue laving out along his bottom lip, her hips bucking up to press her cunt against the fabric that covered his straining cock. He let go of one of her wrists, keeping his fist around the other, his gold Cartier bracelet digging into her, the diamonds on hers leaving tiny welts on his arm--and forced the hand that was now free into the waistband of the black fabric at her sex, rough, demanding, running his thumb into her cunt, now soaking wet for him, bringing it back to her clit and pressing there, unrelenting. Kenzie keened up against him, and her breasts were pressing into the top of his chest for a moment and he shivered to feel her sweet warmth, to smell the sweetness that lingered around her face, and then he was letting go of her other wrist, knowing what she wanted to do--she slid the shorts from his hips so they pooled around his knees, and keeping his hand at her clit as though it were tethered there, he slid out of them; the remainder of their clothing was pushed over the bed so it fell to the floor, discarded.
They were in the very center of the huge bed now, and to Duncan it felt as if they were floating in the middle of some impossibly smooth cloud. He paused for just a moment, Kenzie’s lithe body spread out under him, the irresistible curve of her hips attracting the grip of his hands with a magnetic pull, her face aglow with iridescent arousal and happiness, her fingers dipping in a little fist under her chin, her eyes fixated on his face.
“Kenzie, sweetest, loveliest, beloved--” he dipped his mouth to her ear, unable to stop himself, wanting to give her the roughness he could feel she desired, but lost in his own rosy thoughts, his own deep need to worship her endlessly. “You are so beautiful it fucking staggers me.” She was giggling against the tickle of his breath, and Duncan was overwhelmed so utterly with his love for her he had to steady himself, had to slow his mind, drift away from it, for fear that he’d die right there, die of the immensity of it. Then, he slid his arms under her, against the terrible softness of the bed, and lifted her onto his lap, lifted her so for a moment her golden hair tossed against his cheeks, so her mouth was hovering above his, so her breasts were pressing into his chest, sliding against him with such a yielding ache, the back of her thighs pressing into the top of his, the hard length of his erection pressing between the lips of her, into her clit, and he moaned against her throat as she cried out near his ear, and then he was lifting her up and forcing her down onto his cock, clutching her under one breast and at her hip, holding her steady as he rode up into her, humming into her skin as she began to buck onto him, grinding down so he was buried in her, entirely.
Duncan’s thumb came down and pressed against her clit again, and he spoke into her ear.
“Remember when you rode me like this, that first night? Your hair and your necklace glittered in the low light, and your mouth was open, just as it is now--and I knew you would belong to me, from the way you gave yourself to me, oh Kenzie, I knew you were mine--” he was gasping now, gasping for breath, gasping to feel her, to see her with her head thrown back now, eyes to the ceiling, her mind a swirling maelstrom of gold, lost in his words, loving them utterly as he knew she was. Keep talking, baby, keep saying such beautiful things. Tell me everything and fuck me.
Duncan was pounding his hips up into her with so much force, his cock burying itself in her with such abandon, he worried he’d rend her in two, her breasts and arms shivering terribly against him, her eyes full of ecstatic, oblivious brightness. He paused for a moment, the entirety of him inside her, the wetness between her legs sliding down his thighs in dripping trails.
“I love you, I love your golden hair, your lips, your throat and your eyes--I worship you, unnnh, Kenzie, Mackenzie, you are the goddess of my heart, unggg, you are the most divine of all beings--” Duncan suddenly lifted her up so he slid out of her, and she gasped in surprise, and he was flipping her over forcefully, pushing her down on all fours on the vast silken bed, hand gripping the back of her neck downwards, her little palms coming out to hold herself up, and her ass slid up towards him. Duncan brought his fingers up to tangle into her hair, then gripped it harshly, pulling her head back--then he buried himself into her cunt, seeing the veins on his cock straining with hardness before he did, and now he was riding into her from behind with a wildness that bordered on a Bacchanalian trance--they were facing the painting of Cupid and Psyche now, and his mind prickled with the combined tenderness of it, his tenderness for her against the hedonistic lust he felt for her, inside her this way.
“Unnnng, fuck my little cunt, baby, fuck me--” Kenzie murmured, her fingers clutching the luxuriant gold-and-white spread, pressing her ass back to receive him, and he slid back so all of his length retreated from her, then he forced himself back inside her, entirely, so his balls smacked up into the lips of her vulva, and jerked her head back further so he could see her eyes rolling up into her head, the open drift of her mouth as she lost herself inside the feeling of him, feel the twist of her head under the forceful pull of his hand.
“God, I love your little cunt so much, I’m gonna fuck you so hard while we’re here, I’m gonna make your little cunt so fucking pink and sore, baby--” he was keening into her, burying himself in her, pressing his whole body against her; Duncan pressed her head down now into the bed so her cheek dipped to the side, her little breaths gasping against the silken sheet, and he lifted her hips higher so he could see the raw, rosy darkness that was spreading through the space between her legs, the color of his attentions, see the redness at the pucker of her ass where he knew he’d fucked her so well last night, fucked her so hard, pressed his come inside her with the plug afterwards and kept his need inside her. “We’re gonna fuck so much you won’t be able to walk, baby, we’re gonna fuck so hard you won’t be able to move--”
“Uhhhghh, Dunny--” He could feel how close she was hovering to her orgasm, and he immediately stopped, now, stopped and pulled out of her, though he still pressed her neck into the bed, holding her steady, and Kenzie dissolved into a shivering moan of frustrated need that set his heart on fire--”Mhhhhh, Dunny, please--please--mmph, put it back, gimme your cock, spank me--”
“That’s it, angel, I knew that’s what you wanted, I felt it--tell me again. Say it again, baby.”
“Spank me. Fucking spank me.”
“Yes, Princess Kenzie.”
Keeping the hand steady at her neck, holding her rigidly prostrate, Duncan brought his open palm down, immediate and harsh, on Kenzie’s right ass cheek. The snap reverberated across the wide room, and Kenzie let out a little scream that rang in his ears, making him smile immediately, making his cock smack against the space between her legs, straining. He watched her cunt spasm, felt her shudder under his hand.
“Mmmphhyes,” Kenzie cried, and then, demandingly, “do it again, again, right now, do it again.”
Duncan smacked her left cheek now, first with the palm of his hand, then the flat of it, as hard as he could--Kenzie keened forwards from the force of it, a gasp rattling out of her, the sound of her choking on the spittle that had been sucked back into her throat. “Uhhhhhyes,” she moaned. “Again.”
Duncan could see the rising red welts he had caused--already he knew he’d left a mark that would linger on the left side, but he felt utterly beholden to her demand now, lost in his lust. Hearing his hidden hesitancy, Kenzie spoke again, her voice (the sweetest of all sounds to me) drifting up to him from where he pressed her. “Do it, Duncan. Leave marks. I want it, baby. I want you to leave your mark on me. Do as I say.”
Duncan felt his skin flush, felt himself quake under the power in her words, knew that as much as she wanted him to do it, his desire to give her the pleasure she demanded was even stronger--I would do fucking anything for you, Mackenzie Stone. I can’t speak of the things I would do in the face of my love for you. I am utterly yours for all time. There is nothing for me without you. Whatever you ask of me, know I would do it. No holy terror I would not face. No fearful, dreadful task I would not undertake. No darkness I wouldn’t swallow. I fear nothing if it is in your name.
So he brought his hand up once more, and then down with as much force as he could onto the right side of her ass again--Kenzie keened forward once more, gasping out a cry that was stifled in her surprise, and she sucked air in sharply as he smacked her again on the left, and then he buried his cock into her cunt again, unable to stand the coolness of the bare air against him anymore, unable to bear the sight of her dripping sex, convulsing and empty, and he pulled her head up from the sheet and flushed her against him, his arms trapping her little body as he knelt into her, mouth at her jaw, fingers rubbing harshly at her swollen clit--her hands gripped up around his arms, her faced turned up to Cupid and Psyche there, and he heard her whisper “that’s us, baby, that’s us, fucking divine,” and she was coming now, her tiny shape shivering with such intense force in his grip, her voice screaming out so utterly that he immediately felt his own release, suddenly, unexpectedly, coaxed out of him with her impossible sweetness, her utter abandon, and she was turning her head as they came together, their open-mouthed kiss the melding of their souls, their minds melding together, high in some other, more ethereal place for that moment, in the place where they had wings imperceptible to human eyes, where they had eyes made of galaxies, hair of sunlight, clothing woven in impossible geometry. It’s you who are divine, Mackenzie Stone. I’m merely blessed to be in your light. Her golden softness against him in the daylight was, for a moment, so like a dream, he wondered if they’d fallen into an impossibly vivid fantasy, a place that was untethered from all reality.
But no--you’re no dream, my love. You are the realest, the truest, most irrefutable of all things.
------
For a little while they had laid quietly, clutching each other, still lost in the center of the golden-cream bed, its smoothness still kindling his senses to a strange high; Duncan pressed soft, imploring kisses along her cheeks, at her eyelids, the bridge of her nose. For a little while Kenzie seemed to drift in a wordless oblivion of post-coitus, her eyes fluttering, her throat spasming with tiny movements as she swallowed, her arms shivering almost imperceptibly under his hands as her mouth dipped open, her hands drifting at his jaw, falling back and forth over the stubble. I love this, he could hear her thinking, over and over in an endless circling. I love this, I love the feeling of you here, I love the soft-prickly touch of you, I love you, I love the curve of your jaw here, I love you, I love touching you here, love you…
His hands fell down to her ass, feeling there tenderly--he coul sense the wincing shiver in her as he did, and ached to know she felt pain he had caused, even if she had asked for it--”ugh, Kenzie, are you okay?” He dipped his head up to look at the marks he’d left--he could see the dark red outline of his palms on both cheeks, and knew there were would be bruises on her tomorrow.
“Baby, it’s okay. I loved it. I wanted it. It--it fucking feels so good. I like it when you’re rough like that with me. I asked you to do it, okay? It was perfect.” And she was pulling his face down to her mouth and kissing him and sending long waves of reassuring, lovely gold into him, where they cascaded down from the top of his head into his body, and Duncan was staggered again by the power he knew she had inside her. I’m blessed to be near you at all. I can’t even fathom it.
Kenzie leaned back from him, eyes gazing at him insistently. “Baby, go get some of that weed, okay? I wanna smoke a little. Then we’ll bring the picnic basket down to the lake.”
“Ugh, yes, baby. Yes.” Duncan slid out of her arms, finding his underwear and the jersey shorts where he’d thrown them to the floor, pulling them on, glancing over to her in the middle of the bed as he did; her hair was still fanning out around her, her expression quiet and deeply content, her little mouth dipping open, her eyes falling up and down over his form. He leaned back over her, dipping his head down over her hip, pressing his lips into her left ass cheek where the redness was swelling, hand coming under it to cup it softly. She moaned softly, hand falling in his hair--then he leaned away and went to the open doorway, glancing into her face over his shoulder. “I’ll be right back, baby, wait till you try this stuff, it’s so good, the high is so gradual and steady, it practically feels like an edible.”
Kenzie smiled at him, dreamily, and Duncan had to turn away, feeling lost, consumed for a moment inside his longing for her, her golden hair, the roundness of her breasts, the space between her legs. No matter how much I’m with you, no matter how often we fuck, it never feels like enough. I want you again. And again. And again.
Duncan was drifting inside these thoughts, distracted deep within them, when he realized with a shock that he was outside; the warmth of the afternoon was on his skin, the gentle wind off the lake drifting into his curls and and down his naked torso--wait, how did I get outside so quickly? Did I really walk through the house and down the stairs and out the door without noticing?
Wait.
Duncan tried to backtrack to the bedroom for a moment; tried to rewind the last few moments, retrace his steps. But he couldn’t visualize walking through the house--he couldn’t feel the wood under his feet or see the shape of the chandelier on the landing, couldn’t feel himself descending the stairs. Oh, fuck. I think I did it again, he thought. I think I moved again--without moving. He went to the G-Class, parked quietly on the gravel. Duncan stepped gingerly over it with bare feet, noticing his legs were shaking a little--he opened the trunk and pulled his Prada suitcase towards him, unzipping it and pulling his Armani sandals out, slipping them onto his feet, then set about the work of moving the other Yeti cooler and the picnic basket inside, as well as both suitcases and Kenzie’s tote bag with the books, the fireside cooking kit, and the picnic blanket and piles of lovely quilts Kenzie had ordered. Once everything was inside the house, Duncan brought both of the coolers into the rustically-styled kitchen; it had long windows overlooking the woods on the eastern side of the house, and an island in the middle made of a long slab of oak, rustic tree trunks fitted closely together to make up the base, and latticed stools with oak legs, cool-silver appliances mixed in with the wood embellishments of the counter tops. Duncan hauled both coolers onto the island tabletop, then the picnic basket beside it. The Yetis should keep everything cold for another hour or so, he knew. We’ll pack the picnic basket for the lake in a little while. For now, I need to test this theory again.
He noticed his hands were stinging a little still; stinging from his harsh slaps against Kenzie’s skin. He brought his thumbs against his palm, drifting his fingers over it, down his wrist to the gold bracelet, twisting it around absently. It wasn’t as though he’d never touched anyone else in a harsh sexual way; there were many lost nights with random partners where he remembered flashes of wanton lust, remembered his nights with Evan where he was always the dominant. But Kenzie, he thought. The idea of hurting her in any way is nightmarish to me. I understand that it gives her pleasure, but I can’t help but feel unnerved. Inside this love, I always feel untethered, absolutely unhinged with attachment towards her, and helplessly shy; helpless to behold her. To love someone this much in a world so uncertain is terrifying, and even moreso to love someone as beautiful--inside and outwardly--as she is. And to feel passion from inside it is so intense, it’s as if I’m constantly on fire. Whatever she asks for, I would die to give it to her. I know this. Utterly. It frightens me, and yet I feel so unafraid when we’re together. How strange and wondrous this love is. And it feels as though--these things happening to us are only happening because of this love. I don’t know why, or what it means. But I do feel like our love has opened some kind of door. A pathway, maybe, is a better word. The path is becoming more clear every day. The path to our destinies. And our destinies are irrevocably intertwined. Our destiny is to be together no matter what--to be together inside this greater thing that’s coming.
Duncan went back to the front doorway, where he’d left their suitcases. He gripped the handle of each in either hand. Okay. Let’s try this again. Duncan tried to visualize the bedroom, closing his eyes; the golden-creamy coverlet, the soft gauzey curtains, the gold laurels, Cupid and Psyche on the wall--and Kenzie, her hair fanning out around her like beams of sunlight, her serene expression with her eyes lifted up to him under the halo of her eyelashes, her little mouth smiling, her white breasts and dark rosy nipples, her little hands clutched along her ribs, and her wonderful, beautiful hips and thighs, the gorgeous curve of them, pressed together, hiding her sex in their dip. Mackenzie Louise. Angel of my heart. Light of my shadow.
“Duncan, fuck.”
Duncan opened his eyes--oh, shit. It worked. He was back in the bedroom, the weight of the suitcase handles still in his fingers; Kenzie had opened the window while he was away, and wind drifted cooly against the curtains. Kenzie had put her bikini back on, and she had been laying on her belly on the coverlet, her feet lifted up behind her, knees crooked, chin against her hand; she’d been facing the Swynnerton painting, no doubt gazing at it with the same sort of serene expression she usually reserved for The Youth of Bacchus; but her eyes were on him now, full of astonished confusion, her head crooked back in alarm.
Kenzie sat up, shaking her head in amazement, crossing her legs.
“You just did it twice, baby. I thought maybe the first time I imagined it, I was still coming down from my orgasm and thought I was just sort of fucked up--but that time I saw it. You popped back in here like Samantha in Bewitched. Wow, baby.”
“Kenz, see if you can do it again. See if you can move something--wait.” Duncan crouched and laid his suitcase flat, unzipping it and taking out his gold weed pipe. He laid it flat on his palm and held it up to her, looking into her eyes--they were glowing with flecks of gold, her excitement rising behind them.
“Okay. Try now. See if you can move it.”
Kenzie’s eyes squinted for a moment, biting her lip with concentration; Duncan felt the adoration of his love wash over him, watching her in her little black bikini, her tawny hair gathered over shoulder now, her hand reaching out towards him, her palm upwards, fingers curled just a little. Then Duncan glanced down at his hand--the pipe was gone from it. His eyes shot back up to Kenzie, who was grinning at him in triumph, the pipe now grasped between her thumb and index finger. “Ah ha!” she laughed, tossing her hair. “I did it again!”
“Baby, do you feel--” Duncan was going into his suitcase again, pulling out the bag of weed, a black herb grinder, and a black BIC lighter, sliding up onto the bed with her, kissing her, “--do you feel like whatever this stuff is, these things we can do--fuck it, this magic, is stronger here? That whatever it is is more potent out here? I feel like my body is charged with an electrical current, I feel like my nerves are singing--”
“Yes. Yes. That time it took almost nothing from me--it was as easy as breathing. I just thought about it for a second, and it came to me. I don’t feel dizzy or out of breath like I did before. I think I could do something a lot larger and it wouldn’t bother me at all. That’s how it feels.”
Duncan was grinding some of the blue-strain out and packing the bowl of the pipe, and his nerves still had that potent, shimmering edge--he felt high already since reappearing in the bedroom, high on the strange power of the impossible thing he had done, and the things Kenzie could do, the mystery of them.
“I was thinking, you know that feeling we were talking about--you said it seemed like we opened a door when we met, and I think the door was more like a pathway, like we opened a path, and now we’re on the path, and it’s one we only could have found after we found each other. And now we’re on it. It’s the right path. And the powers--fuck, Kenzie, the magic--they’re part of that path.” He held the bowl out to her and she took it, gently brushing his fingers, staring up at him. My sweet sweet Kenzie. To be alone with you this way. I can’t find words.
“I think so too, Duncan. I think we found the path. Oh, baby. It’s so beautiful, isn’t it?”
He could see the hint of tears glistening around her eyes, then she lowered her gaze to light the bowl and breathed in, deeply, letting out a little cough at the first embers in her throat--she dipped down to his mouth, lifting her lips onto his, hand cradling his cheek, then blew the smoke between them, into him, down into his throat, into his lungs, the weed at once inebriating and potent, settling into both of them in the span of moments, bringing a new glow to the room, a spiritous opalescence. Together we’ve manifested real magick, she thought, and he heard her, warm inside her mind and in the grip of the weed, reaching out for her hand, pulling his long fingers achingly down her skin. She passed the pipe to him, which was still lit, and he breathed in from it, deeply. Together we have brought something to life. With this love we’ve woken up something very old and very powerful. I feel it, Duncan. I know it.
“It’s--so, so beautiful,” he replied. “Beyond anything I ever imagined was possible before I found you. You are so beautiful, Kenzie. It’s like I can see the universe inside you.”
“When I write my book, I’m going to steal all the lovely things you say to me,” Kenzie smiled. “I’’m going to pretend like I came up with them.”
“They’re all for you anyway; they belong to you. Everything is for you--every part of me.” Duncan set the pipe down on the softness of the bed, hand drifting down her smooth thigh to her knee. To give myself to you, to give you my love--there is nothing that has ever made me so happy in all the world, Mackenzie Stone.
“I know, baby. I know. I love you. All of me is for you, too.”
“To hear that, my heart just--fucking sings, Kenz. To be loved by you is just…” Duncan trailed off, looking away from her, full of the feeling of shyness again. To be inside her gaze shook him to the center of his soul. It’s like looking into the window of time, seeing that there is something beyond that, something so radiantly lovely, it defies all description. The thing beyond time is love. And I see that now. Because I feel it.
Kenzie was dipping her face down to him as she had before, pressing her mouth up against his--the taste of her bitter with the weed, sweet with the scent of her perfume and her hair and her skin, then she leaned away and gripped his hands, pulling him off the bed with her. He stood over her little frame, marveling over the crown of her head only reaching to the top of his chest, longing to pull her against him, but she was dipping down to her suitcase now, pulling out one of the dresses she’d packed, a strappy rust-colored mini dress, pulling it over her head, sitting abruptly on the rug around the bed (it was covered in gold fleur de lis) to slip her Vans back onto her little feet.
“The lake, baby, the lake,” she said over her shoulder, disappearing into the bathroom, emerging moment later with two fluffy white towels which she pressed into his arms. “I wanna see the lake, come on.”
Kenzie twined her fingers around his, and in the haze of her touch and the weed and the magic he knew was with them (I know it, I know it is, I’ve seen it, I feel it) now, Duncan knew he was right. We are on the path now. “Take me, baby. I’m yours.”
--------
Together they’d put away all the groceries they’d brought in the woodsy kitchen; Duncan couldn’t stop himself from continually pressing kisses into her hair and along her forehead as Kenzie lined the fruits and vegetables and the carton of eggs, the jars of olives and tiny pickles carefully on the empty shelves; opening the drawers, her hair dipping into her eyes, to slide the lunch-meats and turkey bacon into them. He packed the picnic basket with honeycrisp apples, the tortilla chips and pico, two ripe avocados, and made them each a turkey sandwich on the sprouted bread with fresh lettuce, the artisan provolone and slices of a ripe tomato; then he slipped two bottles of the wine inside, one red, one white, and lined the others carefully at the bottom of the fridge and the reds on the kitchen’s island. Kenzie was watching him with that glittering affection in her eyes, the one that always stopped his heart, made him shy--who was I before I met you? He wondered. I feel like my life has finally begun. Finally, I’m awake, and everything before you was a dream. The weed had made him feel deeply contented, and he could feel a similar dreamlike state of solicitude from her.
“There’s so much I want to show you here,” he said, gripping the handles of the basket. He was still shirtless, and only in the jersey shorts and sandals--fuck it, Duncan, he told himself. There’s no one to care. “Just wait until you see the sky tonight, baby. And I think I can find that clearing again, the one I told you about before--where I went alone that night. With the goldenrods and orchids. Though they might not be blooming now, I don’t know.”
Kenzie was anxiously pulling him out the sliding door to the side of the kitchen; through it was a small side-deck, and then a stony path that led around the house to the path next to the gazebo and the swing that hung from the oak tree--then even further down to the lake, its surface dappled with glitter in the afternoon sun, and the dockside, the canoe bobbing from it on a length of rope. Kenzie stopped them for a moment to admire the gazebo, then glanced over at the swing, her expression elated; I love all of this so much, he heard her, and pulled her against him for a moment, burying his nose into her hair, breathing in. I love you so much.
She pulled back from him, her eyes gold-flecked, then she smiled, mischievous--Kenzie turned and sprinted away from him down the path, her hair streaming out behind her, the little dress fluttering up to flash the dip of her ass in the black bikini. Kenzie made it to the dock, the Vans slapping noisily on the wood, and paused to slip them off and pull the dress over her head, discarding it in a heap--as Duncan came up behind her she ran back a few paces on the dock, then scurried off the edge, cannon-balling into the water, splashing him with a jet of cold spray. He grinned, setting the picnic basket down, shaking the droplets of water from his hair. After a moment, Kenzie reappeared, blinking water from her eyes, pushing her wet hair out of her face, bobbing to the surface. He could see the minute kicking of her feet under the water as she leaned back, face tilting up to the wildly blue sky, the tiny wisps of cloud scudding over the sun, which had moved from the center overhead to begin its slow descent into mid-afternoon.
“I think heaven looks like this,” she said, her eyes drifting closed as she floated there, the surface of the water’s clear reflection making it seem as though she bobbed in the sky itself. In the distance there were hills that stretched for miles due west, and Duncan knew the sun would set over them that evening--he thought of Karer See, with its pink and purple hills--knew after that the sky would burst into a brilliant cascade of stars, the likes of which were never visible in the city, the likes of which weren’t visible anywhere but here, really, as far as he had ever seen--I can’t wait to gaze at the universe with you, he thought, crouching to sit along the side of the dock, dipping his legs down into the water, bringing out the bottle of red wine and opening it as he watched her, the blue weed floating up and down through him, flaring in his mind and his blood like flowers blooming.
“Heaven looks like you, Miss Stone.”
She squinted at him, sticking her tongue out, dipping down to swim over to him, reaching up to where he held a wine glass down to her, his other hand falling against her wet hair. Kenzie sipped at it, then set it gently on the dock, dipping down into the water so her mouth was hidden under it. She kept her nose hovering just above the surface, her eyes sparkling with a green-blue reflection from the sky, dancing at him. He felt a jerk at his foot as she playfully yanked on it under the water.
“Hey! A little fish grabbed me!”
Kenzie laughed at that, ecstatic. She yanked again, and Duncan had to grab onto the side of the dock to keep from being pulled into the water this time.
“Cut that out, Mrs. Shepherd.”
“Mrs. Shepherd,” Kenzie balked, laughing. “That’s your mother.”
“But it’ll be you, too. Soon. Mackenzie Louise Shepherd, Chairwoman of the Board of Directors, Shepherd Unlimited LLC.”
“Oh, soon, huh? What makes you so sure I’ll say yes to you, Mr. Shepherd?”
“I know you will. You told me you will.”
“What if I change my mind,” she said, teasingly, reaching for her wine glass again.
“You won’t.”
“Oh really?”
“You love me.”
Kenzie grinned. “Nah, I just love your big dick and your credit cards.”
Duncan shook his head, and the weed crashed against him again, this time in a stronger wave. He stared at her; he felt bold, untethered by reason, and intoxicated with her.
“Nope. You’re totally in love with me. You’d do anything for me. I heard you tell Annette. You gave yourself away. You’re going to marry me.”
Kenzie’s smile fell away; oh god, what was it? What did I say? he thought. But then he saw the emotion in her eyes, saw that it had been there all along, that her facetiousness had been a paltry attempt to hide it. The weed seemed to be clashing against her thoughts in him, muddling them; but now he felt them in a surge. I did, didn’t I? I did tell her. I forgot about that--so much has happened since then. And I meant every word. I would do anything for you. I am going to marry you. And I love you so much it fucking hurts like a wound. It’s like the most bittersweet chocolate, a wine so rich it burns on the tongue, this heady weed we smoked, drifting in our veins now. My love for you is like that inside me all the time--and your love for me, so strong it’s like a storm that surrounds me, sweetest rain against me.
“Kenzie, baby. Come here. Eat something.”
The heat had deepened; it had to be in the 80’s now, Duncan guessed, remembering his phone was off and discarded in one of the pockets of his suitcase now, and he breathed a sigh of relief as Kenzie set her wine glass down again on the edge of the dock, reaching for his hand. He pulled her easily up to him, into his lap--cradling his head into her neck for a moment, not caring when her wetness seeped into him. Then Kenzie extracted herself from his arms, leaning over the basket to use a cloth napkin to dry the lake water from her hands, grabbing one of the towels to wrap around her shoulders, then reaching for one of the turkey sandwiches Duncan had made for them--he’d wrapped them in cloth napkins too, tying each with a neat double-knot, and Kenzie sat beside him, crossing her legs, wincing a little, to untie it.
“My ass is sore from double-duty,” and then she snorted; they both burst into a peal of laughter. Kenzie reached into the basket and handed him the other wrapped sandwich, their laughter bleeding out into stoned giggles--and together they sat on the dock, eating with insistence. Duncan was starving; sex and weed will do that, he thought, and Kenzie was nodding, reaching for tortilla chips from the basket’s interior, her little teeth crunching into them, her eyes drifting up to the sky again, full of lovely wonder that pierced his heart. Duncan finished his sandwich and cut one of the avocados in half, using a spoon to dip its green flesh into his mouth, watching her coyly. Her wet hair was dripping onto the dock’s wood surface, leaving a damp ring around her, and he fought the urge to reach out and grasp her little breast in the tiny bikini top. He watched it shiver with moisture; watched the dip of her clavicle, the moon still glittering at her throat. She brought a hand up to brush her wet hair from her cheek again, the diamonds on her wrist flashing.
“I just wanna buy you more diamonds,” he murmured between bites. “Hundreds more. One for every star in the sky.”
“Just get me flowers, baby. I love the flowers best.”
“We’re taking the path through the woods behind the house after this, I’ll show you where most of the wildflowers grow--we can gather as many as you want to bring back with us.”
“Oh, Dunny, I’d really love that. I wanna cover the whole wall at home with them.”
“A wall of flowers for Persephone, trapped in the Underworld.”
“Duncan. No. It’s not the Underworld. It won’t be--not anymore. Not after what we do.”
Duncan hesitated; my heart is so light with you. I believe it. He remembered her tear-stained face last night, the pulsing glow of her sadness when he found her in the powder room, the memory of Bill Shepherd’s cruel resentment in her eyes.
“I’m so sorry about my uncle, Kenzie. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. I’m so sorry that he doesn’t understand--I’m sorry he touched you, that he said those things. It won’t happen again.”
“Duncan. It’s not your fault.” Her hand grasped his much larger one, disappearing into it. “Death is frightening. People are afraid to die. It’s makes them do things they wouldn’t do otherwise. He’s afraid. I already forgave him. I can’t possibly hold a grudge against a man who’s about to die.”
“And Annette?”
“Annette...I think when we get back, we’ll all feel different, you know? I think things will be different.”
“I hope so. I wish I could push all my resentment away. I want to--to try to forgive her.”
“You’re human, baby. You’re allowed to be upset, unsure. It’s okay.”
“Kenzie. How are you so wonderful. So perfect.”
Kenzie shook her head, scattering water across the dock, her eyes (the forest, the sun) burning at him. “I’m not perfect, Duncan. Fuck.”
“You are perfect. You’re perfect to me. For me.”
“You’re fucking perfect,okay? Your fucking stupid perfect hair. Your jawline--I dunno--it could cut steel or something. Your beautiful hands and your lips and your eyes like the sky. And the beautiful way you think about me. It takes my breath away.”
“Kenzie. You are the brightest person I’ve ever met. It’s like you’re made of sunlight. Of starlight. It shines out of every part of you. I could see you in the darkest place. You’d shine out like a beacon. The way people react to you...they can see it too. I think you...you have royal blood. I mean--you come from...something greater. Greater than me. Greater than anyone.”
“I don’t understand that. Why people react to me that way, especially lately. I thought maybe it’s just because of your family and, I dunno--you. Millions of Instagram followers.” Kenzie smirked at him.
Duncan shook his head.
“I think it has to do with us being together. They can see something--I don’t know what to call it. Something extraordinary. They don’t know what it is, but they can feel it. It has something to do with the magic, maybe. Like an invisible current of energy. Claire said something to me that night she came over, after you fell asleep--she said we’re intense, like a bright light a moth flies into. I think people see us like that, for whatever reason--especially you--like a bright light that they want a part of. Some people are like Lindy and Gabby, they’re sincere--it inspires them, they see how much we love each other, I think. And some people respond like that guy Georgio--lust. They just want a bite of it. And other people still--Marissa, or my uncle. They want to destroy it. Snuff it out. They long for it, and can’t accept that it doesn’t belong to them, and never could; that they can’t possess it.”
Kenzie was eating one of the apples now, munching on it with an earnest cuteness that made Duncan long for the bed upstairs again; I’m gonna throw you down in the flowers and kiss every inch of your skin soon, Mackenzie Stone.
“I think that’s why I want to be kind to them so much,” she said softly. “Lindy and Gabby, I mean. They’re so sincere.”
She paused, her mouth on the apple’s smooth skin, and he wanted to reach out and brush his fingers along her lips there. Eve eats the Apple of Knowledge in Eden. And then she Knows--she knows everything. I feel like we’re about to know, too. Everything.
Duncan nodded. “I know that, baby. You don’t have to explain that.”
“Claire has always been that way to me. So sincere. I feel love from her so genuinely, so selflessly. Now I think--I think Claire could always see it. The thing we are becoming.”
“I think so too. I think Samuel could see it too. And Pilar. And so many other people around us our whole lives. We’re noticing it now, but...I think it was always there.”
They both fell silent. Kenzie’s fingers tightened on his palm for a moment, drifted down to the bracelet, sliding over it softly. The thread. The tether. It was always there too, wasn’t it? The one between us. The magic was always there, and so were we. Us. Together.
Then she dipped her head down and took another ravenous bite from the apple, crunching it happily, her face falling into an expression of blissful happiness, the sun in her hair. She slid her hand out of his, balancing the apple on her knee, and twisted her hair out onto the deck. Water pattered in an arc that glittered in a beam of light, reflecting off the water and her diamond bracelet, blinding him for a moment. Scatter your gold over me. Then she reached for the little dress she’d discarded in a heap, pulled it over her head, and stood up, reeling her arm back and tossing the apple’s core into the water. Duncan drifted his fingers up her leg, looking into her eyes.
“Show me the woods, fair Oberon.”
The day was growing muggy now, the heat at its zenith--Duncan knew after this time, this halo’d span of hours, the sun would begin to set and the day would cool into an evening that would linger in both of them for the rest of their lives; whatever we see and feel tonight, Kenzie, will always be with us. His skin felt hot, potent, the weed crashing up again in his mind, like a rising tide. He could feel the sweat at his temples, at the back of his neck, feel the ghost of her hand that had just left his. Kenzie’s hair had already begun to dry, its waves tossing over her shoulder as she slipped her Vans back on and skipped away from him down the dock, beckoning to him impatiently.
“Come on, Dunny.” Her eyes were luminous; their gold seemed to reflect the sky, tossing green and bronze in their depth with swirling intensity. I want you again. I want you under the eaves of the shade. Come to me.
Duncan launched himself up from the dock, from his trance in the sunlight. The spell she was weaving (as you always do, my love) was pushing him toward her--he started to jog towards her but Kenzie flitted away (my little firefly), her little feet in the tennis shoes flying out behind her in the grass, cutting across the path and behind the gazebo. As Duncan ran after her the sun dappled through the trees, giving the afternoon a glittering sheen, the affectation of a sepia memory. Because as this moment fades into the next, it really is a memory now, he thought, his heart aching as he chased her, the sound of her excited giggling drifting back to him as she flew down the path which had faded from stone to pounded dirt, and through the pines and oaks that grew abundantly together at the forest opening. I ache for every moment with you that fades from reality and exists only within us forever after. I’d extend every single one of them into eternity if I could. I could never have enough moments with you. Each one is precious gold--I don’t have space in my hands enough to hold them all, and that will always leave me yearning for you, Kenzie. My moonbeam, radiant with hallowed light.
He made it to the space where the trees parted to the path, panting heavily, pausing to press his palms against his knees, dipping down to suck air into his lungs--his hair fell down over his forehead, sweat dripping at the side of his cheek. The heat had begun to feel almost tantric, enveloping him, the weed veering into the space behind his eyes, through the crown of his head, down the back of his neck, through his arms, swirling down his throat and into the warm center of him. Where are you, angel. I’m going to find you. He suddenly ached for her with a terrible craving that made him want to groan aloud. What is this day, the summer wind, the sky, the water, the wood, without you. Where are you.
He jerked his head back up, hands drifting over his shirtless torso, over the sweat that was pooling in the dip of his throat, and peered through the trees. The clearing he knew was inside wasn’t visible from this distance, and Kenzie had disappeared around the dip in the path a few paces ahead. Duncan stepped under the canopy of trees; in the forest now, he thought, and shivered a little despite the heat. He forced himself to walk rather than run; Kenzie wouldn’t have gone far, he knew. She’s expecting me to follow. And once she sees the clearing--her heart won’t let her go on. I know her; as I’ve always known her. He turned around a cluster of Virginia pines at the dip in the path, eyes falling on the stream he knew was here, one that had run here for at least a hundred years. An arching, handmade bridge spanned across it--it had once been a dark wine-red, but was now fading into the russet of the forest, the paint chipping away. Duncan listened carefully; the telltale sound of Kenzie’s giggling echoed ahead, the distant slap of the bottom of her shoes. Then, it stopped, and he heard her gasp of delight--she had reached the clearing, that oasis he had found on a night his heart had ached with loneliness for her.
Duncan stepped over the bridge, glancing down at the clearness of the stream, his heart pounding wildly, his head dizzy. He knew the clearing was nearly upon him, through the denseness of the strange cluster of black oaks ahead. He remembered them because they grew oddly close together, as though they were guarding something; as though they were the gatekeepers for a world beyond, one that was different than this one, tinged with mystery. Their leaves grew heavy, dipping low, shielding the space where the path led through them. Duncan lifted his hand to push them aside, lowering his head between the eaves of them, feeling their many-pronged leaves brushing through his hair; as he cleared them, he lifted his eyes, and his breath caught again, but not from running. Fuck me, he thought. I thought I’d remembered how lovely it is, but I didn’t, not really. And there are more flowers now; so many more. It’s as if they all bloomed for her. They knew she was coming.
Kenzie was kneeling in the center of the round clearing--overhead the trees created a canopy of shade that only let slivers of sunlight down onto her, but these seemed to create a circlet of gold around her head--her halo, he thought, immediately overcome with her loveliness. All around her there were wildflowers; little lavender asters with golden centers, clusters of drooping red fuchsias, and the goldenrods he remembered. There were what seemed like a million tiny white, purple and pink alyssum flowers covering the carpet of the forest floor, too--they seemed to have grown in a circular pattern that cascaded from the outward edge of the clearing in swirls that dipped all the way to the center where she sat, her feet tucked under her little dress, her face leaning down to press her nose into the clusters in front of her, her hands delicately trailing down their stems and petals. Duncan felt dizzy again--this wave burst over him with more power than the first, and he reached out a hand to clutch the nearby trunk of the black oak beside him. The trunk was warm--strangely warm, almost--and its roughness was soothing. It seemed to tether him to reality when nothing else wanted to, not the flowers or the sunlight in her hair, not her little face turned down so angelically, not her little sighs of longing and joy, nor the way the clearing seemed to drift around her, its anchor, its center--the flowers seemed to have gathered around her with purpose, though such a thing could not be.
“Kenzie, baby,” he heard his voice call to her softly, untethered from himself; and when she looked up at the sound of his voice, Duncan felt his breath gasp again. Her eyes were glimmering gold once more; gold like they had been in the complete darkness of their bed that night, in the throes of their passion in the shadows, otherworldly and ethereal; though they were not as intensely strange as the ones he’d seen in his dream of her, they reminded him of those eyes, those galaxies she had inside her, and Duncan felt the weight of a universe pressing down on him inside the moment, inside that clearing. He went to her, hearing her speaking to him from inside the halo of where she was sitting; come to me, come to me, Duncan, come here my love.
Yes, angel. Yes, Queen of Roses.
She reached up to him, and Duncan lowered himself into her arms; the clearing was cool, strangely so, drying the sweat from his skin, and there was no breeze here, more strangely still; the trees must grow so closely the wind can’t penetrate them, Duncan thought; but that didn’t seem quite true. He could see the dips of the trees beyond through the circle here; knew that any breeze of earth would easily be able to drift through into the space. But there was only stillness, stillness in her arms. Duncan let his hands drift up into her hair, tangling in the waves, now soft and dry. The scent of the flowers was rising up to him, the dizziness he’d felt at the edge of the clearing dissipating; a deep need for her replaced it, a painfully clear desire to give himself to her in this quiet, secluded place, this place that seemed to be brimming with finespun power. Kenzie’s eyes were coaxing him to a euphoric state of abandon, and the laughter she’d sent out behind her moments ago had metamorphosed to a look of absolute trust on her small features, in the hugeness of her eyes; all her trust, and all the holy sweetness of her power over him reflected therein.
“This place is sacred, Duncan,” she whispered, and the hairs at the back of his neck rose at her words; at the fragility of the tips of her fingers on the bareness of his ribs. “This place feels like it’s part of another world.”
“Maybe it is,” he whispered back, lowering his face to her cheek, brushing his lips down the skin there, tiny kisses that pressed in measured holiness until they reached her mouth, opening to him, the scent of the flowers drifting up into his senses again as her face turned against him, her hair falling through his fingers. Kenzie was sliding into his lap, her legs parting to press the space between them flush to him, their mouths still crushed together, deeper, the small movement of her under him shivering out; he clutched at her as she rose to lean over him, her hair falling into his eyes, against his curls, chestnut-gold in russet-copper. Her hands were on his jaw again, her favorite spot, her hands belong there, lifting him into her, tasting him as though he were the sweet nectar of some wild fruit, and Duncan gave himself over to her, to the need he felt falling onto him from every fiber of her. Her power here, in this place, in this bed of flowers; it was absolute, and he knew it, could sense it. Like the Mirror, like this place--I belong to her. My world turns to her whims, her tiniest pleasures; my life is hers, my toil, every breath from my lungs a prayer to her wonders.
“I’m yours,” he whispered up into her mouth. “Kenzie, you must know how much, oh, god--how I belong to you--”
“I do know, beloved,” and her smile against him made him shiver; the Kenzie in this moment had an overwhelming flood of golden power rushing out of her into him, and he felt weak with it; weak and desirous, overcome with her. “Now, lay back, sweet Prince. Your angel needs your attention.”
Duncan let her push him, the weight of her fingers so slight and yet so entire, into the coolness of the long grass under them. His head crushed into the clusters of tiny alyssum that carpeted the clearing; for a moment, he saw himself through her eyes, dizzyingly, and knew it seemed to her that he wore a crown of flowers for her, oh love, Lord Hades, I know how you’ve dreamt of flowers in my hair, but to see them in yours too, is a delight to my eyes. In this I know you truly are mine; with these flowers I kiss you, I give you my gold.
Kenzie stood; Duncan went to lift up to her, but she shook her head with the tiniest movement, and he knew not to move; he watched her from the alcove of flowers leaning over him, watched her pull the dress over her head, untie the bikini and slide it from her thighs, her shoes discarded to a drifting patch of grasses. She was sweetly naked now; her nakedness so beautiful to him in this place, this (sacred) clearing where once he knew he’d longed for her, and where, now, miraculously, he longed for the reality of her before him, knew she held him in her sway here, knew the gold of her was brimming with power not of the world they knew; that here it was greater, somehow, it was closer to the Kenzie he had seen in the achingly beautiful dream, knew, without knowing how he knew, that she was closer to that Kenzie now than she was to the one who existed outside this circle. She lowered herself onto him, straddling him at the waist, and he shuddered to feel the lips of her sex press down onto the sensitive space below his ribs. She leaned down over him, hair tossing into the alyssum beside his face, her knowing grin shaking his heart into adamant supplication; I need you Kenzie, I need you, need you, bless me, let me give all of myself to you, I beg you--
“You need me, do you, sweet Prince? You, he of great riches and great beauty, lord of many houses, overseer of shadows, soon to be king of many lands--”
“All of these are nothing in your eyes, Goddess of the Golden Bower, High Princess of the Garden of All Delights, Angel of the Hidden Sphere wherein is held the knowledge of all things, supremely exalted in heaven--” for a moment, someone else seemed to speak through Duncan’s lips; he understood his words but not from whence they came, knew their shape, but could not comprehend their meaning--and then--these are her names, he knew. These names belong to my Kenzie, they are her names that I forgot.
Kenzie dipped away from him, and his nerves thrilled as she pressed her hand harshly against his mouth, stopping his words; he watched her expression contort in a way he couldn’t quite decipher; he could feel the rise of her lust, and feel that she could not bear the words he spoke; that somehow they were too much, too great, or too raw a wound for her to allow. Some other self, she thought, the one I was before, the one my mind can’t seem to see, the one my heart can’t comprehend. Her finger went between his lips, pressing hard into his tongue, demanding. No more words, beloved, I can’t stand the beauty of them, I’m--I’m not ready. Not yet.
“Fuck me, Duncan. Right now. I need you.”
“Kenzie, up,” he murmured, and demandingly he pressed his palms against the redness he’d left along her ass cheeks, loving the mingled gasp of pleasure and pain that fell out of her, could feel it wiping her mind clean of her uncertainty; Kenzie’s hands fell above his head into the sweet grass as her cunt bruised against his mouth and his tongue pressed, immediate, into her swollen clit, urging it to sodden preparation. Her voice sobbed up into the trees that covered the clearing, and Duncan thrilled to know no one could hear them; this belongs only to us, no one else can have any of it, and his hands drifted up her back, pressing her onto his face. Her wordless cries almost sounded like a song to him; an otherworldly, ethereal one, fitting for a place such as this, this circle that seemed like the portal to another world, surrounded by the black oaks. He pushed his tongue further into her, dipping it down to the opening of her sex, up to her clit, down the side of either lip of her, making her thighs shake against the sides of his jaw, and he kept his eyes open, open to look at the intensity of her beauty; there it is again, her halo, he knew as her head dipped back and her throat moved, shivered for him, her hair falling back in a waterfall against his fingers, and this time it’s not the sunlight, it’s not the dappled light in the clearing, it’s real, it really is her halo, and it’s like nothing in this world, this mundane world made of rules that bind us to the earth, but another world where we had wings unfathomable to human eyes, where we had clothing woven from a thread that doesn’t exist here. Her halo is the essence of her divinity. My Kenzie is truly a goddess. I can feel that here. In this place, I can see that. Here, I worship her in the truth of her golden light. And he knew.
Oh my fucking god, Kenzie. You are Holy. You’re fucking holy; you really are an angel, or something like an angel--there was a time, somewhere, somehow, where you were something else, a being made of light, higher than humankind. I saw it that first night, when I loved you so immediately; I saw it the first time we fucked in the low light of that dark bed and I longed to be by your side forever from that day, when the thought of you leaving me was like a knife in my heart. This is just the beginning--just the tip of the knowing. More is coming.
“Baby, let me fuck you,” Kenzie’s voice was half whisper, half a cry that rattled at the edges of his mind and she lifted her sex away from him, making him gasp to lose her--she was sliding down his skin, the feeling of her smooth as silk and hot as low fire, to the waistband of his jersey shorts--she snapped it back demandingly, her fingers closing around the base of his cock, sliding down further, further, her mouth dipping onto him for just a moment, scattering wetness along his length, then she lowered herself onto him, so quickly and sleekly he cried out, overcome with her--Kenzie lowered her palm against his cheek and her fingers dug into his skin, down against the incline of the top of his throat, and she was pushing into him, forcing her hand into him, and she murmured “give your hard cock to me, Duncan--” and then she was keening her hips down onto him, riding him with so much force that he felt white spasms of light, like the crackling edges of a bonfire, around the edges of his vision.
“Fuck me, give yourself to me, let me fuck you, give yourself, give to me, dearest love, fairest of all men, and mine alone, chosen one--” Kenzie’s head fell back again, her words drifting into the stillness of the clearing, the coolness, the solitude that was blessed and golden, the holy sweetness of this place that, in this moment, was theirs and theirs alone. Her nipples were achingly hard in the soft, shaded light; Duncan’s hands came up to them as she rode against him, biting harshly into his lip to keep himself from rushing over the edge already; his thighs were prickling with the softness of her swollen ass pressing down onto him, and she was so wet--so exquisitely tight against him--
This place seemed to heighten everything in his body; his sight seemed sharper, bringing every detail of her small features into clarity, the impossible depth in her eyes, the shivering length of her eyelashes, her little lips and their tiny, gathered dew, the little round dip at her nose, the scattered blush at her cheeks, the strands of her hair plastered to her neck in her passionate abandon. The sensation of her in his hands and along his cock was nearly unbearable; he fought the urge to scream, to burst into tears, and the scent of her held a sweetness that seemed, like the air, the aura of this place, not of the earth. The scent of a moonbeam, of moonlight scattered on some place that is paradise--the Garden of All Delights, is that what I called it? Is that what I said to her a moment ago, inside this place, halfway between a dream and reality?
Duncan gripped under Kenzie’s arms and forced her down, crushing his mouth against hers; the heat of her naked body was so exquisite, the warmth of her cunt so divine, he wished she could absorb him inside her somehow, cradle him in the cocoon of her light.
“That’s it, baby,” she whispered, and she gasped, “give yourself to me, just like that, ride up into me, like that, fuck me in these sweet flowers, in this sacred place--because we’re fucking holy, baby, when we’re together, it’s fucking holy, isn’t it--it’s sacred--”
“God, yes, I can feel it, it’s like a--unnnh, it’s like you’re made of sunlight, and you’re sucking me inside you--it’s so fucking lovely, Kenzie, baby--I can’t fucking stand it--”
“Fuck, baby, this place--what is it--” Kenzie was gasping, and to Duncan it felt as though her body were lifting him up into her, not just their skin pressing together here, in the dark green grass bursting with wildflowers, but their souls, twining in a meditation that seemed to exceed the boundaries of what he thought possible; like her wings are there again.
“I don’t know, baby, I don’t know, but fuck--unngh--you feel so good--”
Her hand came down again, against his mouth, her index and middle fingers pressing inside his teeth, her hips rhythmic now, back and forth along his length, his fingers coming up to dip into her clit and soothe the deep wetness there, pressing the lips of her to the sides. He could feel it now; the vibrating air, the space of this sacred circle, feel that it wasn’t just their own imagining; for a moment it was as though the circle of black oaks became unstuck, and the spirals of the flowers growing in their twisting pattern turned to a hidden beltway of galaxy, and they had ascended to that other place, the place of in their dreams, made of the sunrise colors that were moving beyond any language he had ever heard, the colors of time and things beyond time.
And then--then they were crashing back to earth, the circle tethered once more, locking back into its place, and Kenzie was falling against him, and he felt his orgasm rushing up into her intense heat, closed his eyes in his overwhelmed idolatry of her--I am the cup that runs over with the abundance of your grace--and they were coming together, crying into each other’s mouths, her little fingers on his face, flitting over his eyelids and along this stubble and against his forehead, beating softly like butterfly wings as she shuddered down onto him and he held her as tightly as he could, crushing her into him, wishing they could be together like this always, that the moment of their inevitable parting would simply never come.
------
Kenzie was laying against him now, in the crook under his arm (her spot, the place she was torn away from me); her hair was scattered back, his hand toying with its soft strands, absent-mindedly. They lay in the center of the clearing, the flowers still crushing around his head, the soft afternoon light scattering through the black oaks onto the long green grass that grew so strangely verdant here. Duncan had noticed, with a strange sort of calm, that the trees outside the circle would drift now and again in the wind; but that the leaves of these trees, the ones that created the circle, did not.
“I almost never want to leave this place,” he murmured to her. Kenzie’s eyes were closed, her cheek on the corner of his chest, her breath small and calm; she’d slipped her bikini bottoms back on, as Duncan had pulled the waistband of his shorts back over his softening cock, but she was still topless, the softness of her breasts pressing against him. “There’s something about it that’s so peaceful. Like the rest of the world can’t get in. Like only we can.”
“Baby,” and Kenzie was turning her head up to him. “What were those names you called me before? They were so beautiful. What did they mean?”
“Kenz, I--” Duncan drifted a hand over his eyes. “I don’t know, honestly. I’m not sure what I was saying. It’s something about--something about this place. It put the thought of them inside me. Like I was remembering something I’d forgotten. Like when you relearn words in a language you haven’t heard for a long time.”
Kenzie didn’t say anything more, just brought her fingers up to his stubbled chin. She seemed to be thinking, but as he knew she could if she willed it, she seemed to have closed her thoughts away from him again. He ached to hear her; he pulled her in closer to him, so her leg dipped over his thigh in their flowery bed. The light was lowering; he wondered what time it was, how long they’d laid here in the quietness. He lifted a hand up and picked a pink alyssum from where a cluster dipped down over them, bringing it around a wave of her golden hair and weaving it through, then did the same with a white flower, and a purple one--eventually there were a dozen flowers he’d braided into her, and Kenzie was smiling at him quietly, not moving, head crooked under her arm, eyes sleepy but watchful.
“I like you with flowers in your hair too, baby,” she murmured. “For our wedding you should wear a crown of flowers, too.”
“Thought you hadn’t decided if you were going to say yes to me or not,” he whispered, hoisting himself up to look down at her now. Goddess of the Golden Bower. That had been one of them.
“I mean our theoretical wedding.”
He grinned at that, then drifted back into seriousness. There are things I realize now, Kenzie. It’s like I can’t speak them out loud though, not yet. Is that what you’re closing away from me? The things you know about me, too? Did you hear me when we fucked? Did you hear that I know you’re holy? That you really are some kind of angel--that you were, once?
Kenzie made no indication that she heard these thoughts from him, either--she was drifting up from her sleepy position, the flowers he’d woven into her hair shivering around her shoulders. She reached her hands up into the air, legs tucked under her, and stretched, yawning, cat-like. Duncan immediately reached for her, pulling her against him, overcome with her again, lost for words, fumbling to speak. Kenzie seemed to sense his emotion, and pressed her lips in an earnest kiss into his neck, whispering “oh Duncan, how I love you,” and he knew there was nothing he needed to say, then--that everything between them was known, and he could enfold himself safely into her, and the outside world was impossibly far away in the understanding of her love.
They lingered that way for a little while, Duncan’s hand in her hair, the tiny remnants of the scent of roses and vetiver on her skin mixed in with the alyssum and the sun-dried earthiness of her hair now, then Kenzie pulled away from him and stood, gathering her other clothes and her shoes, reaching out her hand. He pulled himself up to her, his body immediately towering over her tiny one, and she pulled the bikini top around her waist, turning to him and brushing her hair aside; Duncan laced it back together, kissing her neck.
“We left the picnic basket on the dock, I guess we should go get it,” Kenzie said, glancing up into the black oaks one more time; Duncan followed her eyes to where the round patch of sky above was deepening into a darker blue, the hints of oncoming sunset beginning to bleed around the edges of the trees. Soon the stars will be out, baby. You’ll see.
“We should gather some of these flowers first,” he said, pulling the dress gently out of her hands and gathering it so she could dip her head into its neckline. Duncan straightened the hem around her thighs as she pulled her arms through it, then turned to pick some, but Kenzie stopped him, grasping his fingers.
“No, baby, let’s do it tomorrow. Let’s come here tomorrow morning, when the sun is rising--and gather them in the sunrise. Can we do that? I want to be--I want to gather them that way. In the sunlight.”
Duncan nodded. “Of course, baby. Whatever you want. That sounds lovely.”
She was pulling him out of the flowers now; out of the halo of oaks, back into the forest. As they left the shrouded enclosure of the huge trees, growing so closely together in their strange way, Duncan breathed out a long sigh--the air seemed to suck back into him, the wind immediately raising the hairs on his arms. It was as though they’d walked through a door back into the outside world from the shadowed interior of a house, its floors made of long grasses and wildflowers.
“You said it yourself, Kenzie, and you were right. It’s sacred. It was the first place I felt you, even when we were so far away from each other once. It was the first time I knew you were out there somewhere--that I missed you.”
She nodded, eyes bright, hand tight inside his. “It’s thin there, isn’t it?”
Duncan knew what she meant; he felt it, deep within his bones, the certainty of it. Yes, my love. It’s thin there; and the barrier between this world and whatever else there is--whatever is outside it--is barely there in that place. We felt another world bumping up against us there; our past. Our future. And other things. Things too great to even describe.
“Yes, Kenzie. I think so. I think you’re right.”
Kenzie nodded a little again, then, clutching his hand tightly, she led him down the path to the bridge; he could hear the eerie cry of a loon far off in the distance somewhere--probably on the lake--and he shivered, threading his fingers against hers, contented to be led by her. Led anywhere. Led into hell if you willed it. Led into an abyss if that was your wish. But no. I know you’ll lead me into heaven. I know it, and it amazes my soul.
Soon they were out of the woods. A cool gust of wind drifted toward them from the lake, smelling of earthy rot, grass baked in sunlight, and the oncoming dew of the evening, and as Duncan lifted his eyes to its serene surface, he was moved anew by its beauty in the oncoming sunset--the sky had begun to turn shades of pink and apricot, and they reflected on the lake’s face with a passionate kiss.
“Wow, Duncan. It looks like…” Kenzie trailed off, squeezing his hand. Her eyes misted, glancing earthward to hide her emotion; but he knew--for I see into your thoughts, beloved, and therefore, into your soul--what she was trying to say. It looks like that other place. The one with colors we can’t describe. I know, baby. I know. She looked up to him, went up on her toes, gripping into his bare shoulders to kiss him. Holy. He felt her shiver a little as another gust of wind fell over them, the flowers he’d twined into her hair falling against her cheek.
“Go get a sweater, baby, it got chilly. I’ll get the picnic basket.”
“Can we make a fire? The weather tonight is perfect. Then we can lay under the stars all night, until the sun rises.” She was grinning against him, her little chin pressing into his skin, her eyes inside his, eyelashes so long, her softness like the rose petals that had been in her hair last night--like the petals she’d slipped inside his wallet, a memory. I want to remember every minute I’ll ever have with you, I wish I could, I wish I could memorize every tiny part of everything.
He pressed his hand down from her head. “Of course we can. I can’t wait to show you the spot--the place where you can see everything. Every star in the sky. And tonight’s so clear--baby, it’s like everything is coming together. I feel so--it’s like they did this for us--”
“The Fates.”
“Yes. Kenzie--I love you.”
“And I love you. To the moon and back.”
Duncan’s heart clenched, knowing that was what she said to Madeline; knowing it was sacred, special, held close, shared between two women, tied to the feminine parts of her, secret and achingly personal. Knowing that saying it to him was a wildly intimate permission from her; knowing that the thing that had passed between them in the holy embrace of their passion under the black oaks was a piece of something vast and yet, somehow, coming together, like a thousand intricate threads of a tapestry that encompassed a universe. He felt as though he’d passed some sort of deeply difficult test; one of utter trust, one innately tied to her femininity.
To share ourselves with each other means to open our hearts to each other utterly; not just our hopes, but our secret fears, our quiet anxieties, our uncertainty, and all our vulnerabilities. In the woods, under those trees, flowers in my hair, I touched something divine in a way I hadn’t before. You felt it, too, didn’t you, my Kenzie?
Her eyes heard him, and recognized him, russet, green and gold. Yes, Duncan. Yes, my exalted love.
Kenzie turned away from him, lightning-quick--he watched her run down the path and disappear around the gazebo; a minute later he saw a warm light spill from its opening as she flicked on the lantern there, then he watched her little shape flitting out and up to the deck, hair swaying, her shoes slapping up the path, the sliding door opening then slamming behind her. The swing drifted, creaking in the breeze--the loon called out again, from somewhere far away on the lake, the canoe slapping against the dockside. Duncan shivered in the sudden solitude, walking down to the dock to gather the basket up, gazing out on the color reflected on the surface of the lake once more, lost in thoughts of otherworldly vistas, of ethereal, angelic clouds. He turned back to the house, lost inside his thoughts of the wood, the strange names he’d called her in his passion, the new knowledge, the certainty of her divinity--one he still couldn’t find words to describe to her. Maybe under the stars I’ll find them. Maybe with the universe looking down on us, I can speak what I know in my heart to her.
Maybe then I can tell her what I know now: that she really is an angel. Or she was. Or she will be.
BODY AND SOUL Part 13 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)
BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST
Author’s Note: I know this keeps happening, but the sexiness of this part consumed my soul (fuck y’all, editing this, I was HOT AND BOTHERED) and shoved out everything else and other stuff that was originally going to be in the second half of this part got moved to 14. I’m not in any hurry to finish this fic and it keeps sort of expanding and becoming this greater thing than I originally intended and I’m continually astounded and moved by it. Writing it is just endless joy for me--spending this time with Duncan and Mackenzie honestly feels like a gift. Madeline’s nod to the song by the Carpenters is, of course, a nod to it being featured in Episode 1 of APOCALYPSE. I use coconut oil as a moisturizer and a lube, hence Kenzie using it for those things also, and if you don’t, I highly recommend trying it in lieu of other moisturizers/lubricants; it will change your fucking life. I listened to Maya Jane Coles’ album Take Flight a LOT for this part; that entire album is an absolute VIBE and has hard #Duckenzie energy, especially their more cosmic-y soulmate sex vibes, heavily featured in this chapter (Unholy and Weak especially, goddamnnnnn). Duncan doesn’t understand this yet, but as I mentioned before, they can hear bits of each other’s thoughts when their emotions are particularly heightened, so the things he isn’t sure if he’s imagining or not are indeed Kenzie’s thoughts. Here is what his Waterford tumblers look like. It was important to me that Duncan wanted to know about Kenzie’s past and share something important about his (I also think it makes perfect sense that Duncan fell in love with an older woman once, Cody clearly idolizes strong women and I wouldn’t be surprised to hear he’d had a similar relationship in the past), that they verbalized their bisexuality to each other (I’m not ruling out the possibility of Kenzie having a romantic rendezvous with a woman in the future, but it wouldn’t be for a long time--their relationship will be monogamous for the foreseeable future in my fic), and that Duncan is at a point where he can cry with Kenzie, his emotional walls coming down. Evan is an Eric AU, Cody’s real-life boyfriend. I used these photos of Billie a lot for inspiration regarding all the moments in this part where Duncan is staring at her, thinking about her (she has perfect Kenzie hair in those too). If it’s not clear already, Duncan and Kenzie’s dynamic in bed will continue to switch (cuz power-switch bi is the ultimate goal, y’all)--sometimes he’s in charge, sometimes she is, but he defaults looking to her for direction, her desires always at the front of his mind. When Kenzie makes Duncan come the second time, she’s channeling her magickal ability, her ultimate self, a divine being of immense power--her nature as a Supreme, as Mallory in that other timeline. Focusing on the romance of this story is very important to me, more important than anything else about it, and I’m glad I could focus on this chapter with the attention I think it deserved. I love how it turned out. By the way, I hate the terms “lovemaking” and “making love” and will never use them in this fic. I just can’t stand that turn of phrase, it’s just so fucking dated. You’re having sex or you’re fucking, y’all.
Duncan leaned over the table, his head hazy; he was four whiskies deep with Madeline Stone (he’d switched to a finger of bourbon on the rocks after the second Jack and Coke, but Madeline had kept on with them), and he felt the fizzy pressure of a burp hovering at the edge of his throat. Fuck, this woman can drink. I love her already. He clutched at Kenzie’s little hand under the table, tracing the outline of her fingers, nodding and smiling at Madeline, and he could feel Kenzie shift quietly every now and then, especially when he pulled the pad of his thumb down her palm; Duncan would glance at her continually to see her staring at him with her eyes shining with desire. The whiskey was making his skin feel flushed and needy, but he was desperately trying to maintain his composure; her mother was sitting across from him, after all, currently telling them the story (Kenzie had rolled her eyes when it began; no doubt having heard it countless times before) of the day she found out she’d won a Pulitzer.
“I was in bed with your father, literally having slept with him for the first time the night before,” Madeline laughed, the whiskey clearly having dissipated any hidden anxiety. “Should have been the last time, honestly, but I think winning made me drunk on power and convinced me he was good for me. Oh, except that you came of all of that, Kenzie Lou, so I suppose it was meant to be.”
“High praise indeed, Momby,” Kenzie replied, rolling her eyes again, and then she slid them onto Duncan, who gazed at her openly, the whiskey drifting through his veins. He squeezed her hand, marveling at the way his fingers enveloped hers; his thoughts flashed to his hand around her little neck, covering it entirely; holding her against his shower wall and fucking her roughly, his arms easily holding her little frame level to him, lifting her onto his countertop, the better to taste her skin, his lips pressed on her neck, his hands totally over her little hip-bones, lifting up to cover her little breasts in his palms...he bit his lip and watched her eyes flicker over him with a hungry glitter behind them, down from his hair and into his eyes for a moment and his mouth and to his adam’s apple and down the buttons of his shirt to his hand in hers and flitting over his crotch (look longer, baby, it’s all for you, every bit of me), her cheeks blushing suddenly, as though she could hear his loud, passionate thoughts.
“Hello, yoo-hoo...calling occupants of interplanetary craft,” Madeline said, her eyes dancing between them, smirking into her tumbler. “Tone it down with the eye-fucking, Kenzie, your mother’s still here.”
“Momby, ugh,” Kenzie pulled her hand out of Duncan’s, turning away from them. Duncan felt a flash of misplaced sadness at the loss of her touch. “Here’s your chance to tell him to cut and run, I’m going to the bathroom.” She stood, pulling down the hem of her little sweater dress, and Duncan couldn’t stop his eyes from falling down the incline of her bare thigh to her leg. “I can’t be bribed with money, so that’ll be futile,” he replied, eyes lifting up into hers again. Madeline laughed, delighted. “Stupidly handsome and funny,” she said, sipping her whiskey again. “You’re passing my Potential Son-in-Law Test with flying colors.”
Duncan watched Kenzie’s back retreat, admiring the way the waves of her sandy-chestnut hair bounced at her elbows, the dip of the back of her knees, her curvy hips and ass in the dress until she turned the corner. He turned back to Madeline, blushing at his inability to be more discreet; Madeline was giving him an appraising stare that made him feel as though he’d just reached the difficult part of a written exam.
“When Annette and I talked,” Madeline said, setting her drink down, her tone suddenly serious, “she told me that if Kenzie came between you and the current course of your career, she would see to it that the relationship ends. What do you think of that?”
“Nothing my mother does or says will make me leave Kenzie. Only Kenzie’s desire to end it would make that happen. You have my word on that too, Madeline.”
Madeline smiled; Duncan could see the glint of warmth and something else (pride? satisfaction?) behind her crimson glasses. As if she won a bet. Maybe one she made with my mother.
“I think you know this already,” Duncan went on, bringing his hands together in his lap, rubbing his fingers absently against his knuckles, his tone quieting conspiratorially, thankful the restaurant was busy and loud and the patrons who had been closest to them had left a few minutes before, so the table was now in a fortuitous pocket of discretion, “but my uncle has terminal cancer. He’s hellbent on pretending he’s invincible, but my mother will need a new business partner when he passes. The doctors say he has six months, maybe a little less.”
Duncan didn’t say anything else; he could see the understanding in Madeline’s gaze, and we’re still in a public place, no less. You understand me. Soon I’ll own 65% of Shepherd Unlimited shares. Madeline was quiet for a long moment, playing with one of the little gold rings she wore; women dressed in gold, high on Olympus, Duncan thought absently. The pantheon of power.
“Annette and I may not get along in any sense of the word, but I can tell you one thing, Duncan: she loves you, fiercely, like a lioness protecting her cub. She wants your happiness, too, even if she’s shit at communicating that. For all her blistering talk, I’m confident your joy is a priority to her. So take heart there. Do you share your mother’s ambitions for the company?”
“No.” Duncan couldn’t help it; the response fell out of him before he’d even really contemplated it; he trusted Madeline immediately, and completely. “I want to build a bridge between Claire and my mother; between Claire and the company. I have my own suspicions about Claire’s supposed “breakdown”; and I want to see if I can arrange a meeting with her, without Annette, to find the hooks to tether us in a deal that’s mutually beneficial. I’m thinking about the future in ways I hadn’t considered before...my desires for my career, and...my life...have recently changed.”
Madeline smiled again, lifting her glass. “Dare I venture a guess regarding the catalyst of this change?”
“I think you know without needing to guess, ma’am. She’s about 5’1” with long golden hair, hazel eyes that look green in certain light, she’s a fearless journalist, and she has a hell of mother.” Duncan lifted his, which was mostly empty now, and clinked it against Madeline’s. “In a few months’ time, I’d love to consult with you on a few matters regarding the future trajectory of Shepherd Unlimited.”
“Ugh, never call me ma’am. Madeline only to you, sweet pea.” Madeline went into her purse, pulling out a ballpoint pen, writing the digits of her phone number on the napkin in front of her, then handed it to Duncan with a languid reach. He grinned at her and grasped it, tucking it in the inside pocket of his blazer as Kenzie came back to the table, eyeing them curiously. She’d applied fresh rosy lipstick, and he was immediately overcome by the need to kiss her. As she sat, still giving him a quizzical look, he dipped a hand around her jaw and pulled her to him, lips brushing hers softly. Madeline was carefully looking down at her phone when he turned back, but he could see her eyes skirting towards them over the rim of her glasses.
“Well, I’ve had too many,” Madeline said, matter-of-factly. “Got carried away, lost in a pair of blue eyes.” Duncan blushed, reaching for Kenzie’s hand under the table again, and she took it, still giving him a curious expression. What were the two of you talking about. “I think I need to leave the Jeep here tonight and take a car home.”
“We’ll take you home,” Duncan said insistently. “Samuel would love to meet you.”
“Samuel is Duncan’s chauffeur,” Kenzie added, “and he is the most wonderful person ever, Momby.”
Madeline waved to the pink-haired waiter who was eyeing them from across the room. He bounced over, beaming. “Ready for another round?”
“The check, please,” Madeline replied, finishing off her drink--and Duncan slipped the man his Black AmEx, while Kenzie was leaning down to grab her satchel, not looking. Duncan could feel the man staring openly at him again; he was used to people recognizing him in public places, but didn’t always feel so clearly that a stranger recognized his personal preferences; could sense his bisexuality. He was getting a heavy hit off the waiter, and it made him think back on rendezvous’ he had had in the past, men and women flitting through his mind. He wondered absently, drunkenly, about Kenzie’s past; who she had been with, her relationships, her flings. He wondered if she’d ever been interested in a woman. He resolved to ask her later, in the quiet of his (their) bedroom. He found himself suddenly desperately curious about who she had loved before she loved him; Duncan watched her as she stood and went over to grasp her mother’s hand to help her up (Madeline was wobbling, tipsily) and he stood to grasp Madeline’s other arm, full of overwhelming affection for both of them. He thought back on the two times he had felt like he’d been in love; once with a woman (when he was 20 and just entering his third year as an undergrad at the Columbia Business School--she’d been older than him, more experienced, and later became a tenured professor there) and once with a man, when he was nearing the end of his 20’s (Evan had been younger, delicately beautiful, and had moved to LA to pursue a career as a model). Neither of Duncan’s relationships had ended badly; they had just ended, the endings feeling natural, and at a certain point, inevitable. He’d had countless sexual experiences in the interim, but the feeling of love had never entered again. Until now. And this feeling…this love...was far more potent than anything he’d felt in the arms of his other lovers. Nothing he’d ever felt towards anything, or anyone, could compare to the way his body seemed to sing when Kenzie came near. The Fates, weaving their obscure cloth for us, whispering the future into its threads, their hands, as ancient as time, pressing love and devotion into the folds. He shivered.
“You okay, baby?” Kenzie glanced up at him over her mother’s head, eyes puzzled.
“Yep, just had a few too many myself, I think.” He grinned at her and she shook her head, smiling softly, and he stared at the baby curls that fell between her ear and her cheek, the crown of her little head, imagining flowers threaded through the waves again. My Persephone. I love you, Kenzie, I love you more than my own life and I’m going to give you everything I have.
Madeline insisted on sitting up front with Samuel; the big man had grinned at her, turning up the volume on the Etta James he had pumping through the speakers (tell mama, all about it / tell mama whatcha need, tell mama whatcha want / and I’ll make everything alright). “I wanna see this ridiculous penthouse Kenzie says you live in,” Madeline insisted, “and then I want this wonderful man to drive me home.” Kenzie had looked exasperated, but Duncan had smiled, putting his hand on her little knee, reassuringly, whispering “it’s fine baby, it’s okay.” Samuel had nodded in turn. “I’d love to drive you home, Ms. Stone. You have raised a daughter who is enchanting in every way, but I’ve heard you are quite a legend in your own right.”
Madeline flicked a hand through her hair, mock-preening. “Honey, you can drive me anywhere.” Duncan carefully pressed the button for the partition that was in the middle panel of the backseat; it drifted up as Samuel and Madeline continued to chat amiably.
Before the edge of it had even closed, Kenzie had clutched his jaw and pulled his face down to her urgently, and Duncan opened his mouth to her, his body flooding with sensation and relief. “God, I’m dying for you,” he whispered into her, the whiskey making his words tumble out, “I want you so much, baby, I’ve just wanted to put my hands all over you for hours--” and Kenzie was moving against him, climbing onto his lap, her little legs stretching to rest against his thighs, the silky feeling of her panties pressing into his crotch through the tailored fabric of his pants (Duncan gripped her ass cheeks in his large hands, squeezing, needy), her head hovering above him, hair falling in the glittering night as she moved gently into him, their tongues pressing together, her breath shallow, his hitching into her, longing, trembling, anticipant. “Later, I’m gonna ride your cock so fucking hard, baby,” she whispered into him, and he moaned into her, feeling his sudden erection press harshly into his tight briefs, feeling her hands fall down his neck, one coming around to let her little fingers bury in his hair, pulling his head back to gaze at her; the other hand gripped onto his throat, tight enough to bring a shadow into the edges of his vision, thrilling him. “I’m gonna sit on it until you can’t see straight.”
“Fuck, Kenzie, fuck, baby--”
“I want you to tie me up again.” She was still gripping his hair, her whisper falling against his lips, forcing him to stare into her eyes, and Duncan was moving his hands up and down her little body, slipping one between her legs and pressing against the silkiness that covered the lips of her little cunt, his hand so large against her that his outer fingers fell against her inner thighs, curling up her skin there, the feeling of her overwhelming and exquisite, his body on fire with her pressed there into his lap, his head tingling where she gripped him, “I want you to tie me up and eat me and spank me and fuck me until I can’t move.”
“Holy fuck, Kenzie, angel, fuck--”
“You better do as I say.” Kenzie grinned at him, and his heart clenched, his throat still tight where she pressed her little fingers into his skin, bringing her thumb over his adam’s apple, sending a wave of coiled heat down his chest into his stomach and then to his groin.
“Yes, Kenzie, I will, I promise, I’ll do anything you want--I wish I could fuck you now, fuck, I want you so fucking bad, baby...”
“Be patient.” She pressed her mouth into him again, her tongue slipping between his teeth, hand still on his throat, and he moaned into her; he couldn’t help it. He loved it so much; loved the way she was commanding him, bringing him so close to the edge of his mad longing for her, bringing him up to a high heat of desire, telling him what she would do, what she wanted. She let go of his neck and Duncan immediately felt a wave of disappointment; keep your hand there, baby, I belong to you; she glanced away from him, out the window, and his gaze followed her, noticing as she did that they were pulling up to the high-rise. Kenzie climbed off his lap, and his heart fell back to his chest from where it had been slamming into his throat, not knowing her little hand had left the thin red outline of her fingers against the side of his neck. He reached for her, his hand going between her legs one more time, his mouth at her ear; she whispered “soon, baby, not yet,” and gently pushed him away from her, and he ached.
The partition floated down; Madeline was saying something to Samuel that made him laugh, his face delighted. Duncan felt flushed and too hot, willing his erection to fade; he pressed one large hand gently over his crotch to hide it, the other coming up to fiddle with his collar near where Kenzie had pressed her fingers into his neck, longing for her hand to return.
“So, lovebirds, let me see this penthouse, then I’ll get out of your hair, I promise. Also, I need to pee, and I need a glass of water,” Madeline said back to them, good-naturedly. Duncan could see the heat that had reached Kenzie’s cheeks; they were pink with the ardency of the words she’d whispered to him on his lap, and she was breathing with a heavy rhythm. She glanced at him, her eyes dark, and he imagined she said fuck baby, I want you, fuck me with that big cock till I can’t breathe and stare into my soul with those eyes like blue fire, put your big beautiful hands on me and fuck me up into a million pieces with them, god, imagined, or heard her thoughts, but that wasn’t possible, and he blushed at himself, wondering if he’d thought of all that himself and projected it onto her somehow, but that didn’t seem quite right; for a moment it had felt as though he’d seen his body, his hands, his cock, his height through her eyes, felt the hot desire she felt when she looked at him as a woman looking on a man who she wanted terribly, felt the pressure of his touch from the perspective of her body, and he felt dizzy and disoriented and confused in her emotions for a moment, then it passed. What was that? Kenzie seemed to recognize the confusion in his eyes, because she gave him a strange look; “Duncan, are you okay?” And he nodded, his stomach jostling a little. “Had a lot of whiskey, I think,” he replied, and heard a “you can say that again, honey,” from Madeline in the front seat.
-------
“Fuck, honey,” Madeline had murmured, moving through Duncan’s spotless kitchen into the living room, her eyes roving over the cool, quiet, spotless, gold-and-black sheen of it. “This is fucking ridiculous.” The resident housekeepers of the high-rise came and cleaned the penthouse for an hour every day between noon and 1 PM, except for on weekends, which Duncan realized he hadn’t mentioned to Kenzie yet, making a mental note to do so later--since she was going to be living here now, too. Kenzie is going to live here with me, he thought again, drunk with the thrill of the reality of it, watching her mother’s stunned expression as Madeline moved through the space, towards where the statues of Dike, Nike and Athena were clustered. She stopped in front of the Bouguereau prints on the wall against the entrance to his study admiringly, hand falling to her chin, her other arm tucked around her. “Momby, oh my god, you have to see, Duncan has a real Bouguereau in his study, come here--” and Kenzie, having kicked her boots off by the front door, ran barefoot to her mother, gripping her hand, dragging her through the doorway to ogle at The Youth of Bacchus. Duncan heard Madeline’s soft cry of amazement and their hushed voices close together; he couldn’t make out their words. He thought of Kenzie’s things, now neatly packed in a row of boxes sitting on the floor in the bedroom; her clothes carefully hung on a wheeled clothing rack; Duncan had insisted on lining them carefully on the rack himself, not wanting anyone else to touch them. We need to go get her other things tomorrow, he made another mental note, I’m going to clear my schedule, the episode can go up without me this time. Mom’s trying to take over our weekend, so I don’t want anyone to bother us tomorrow. Duncan went to his spotless steel sink, pulling a Waterford tumbler from the cabinet, going to the fridge and filling it with cold filtered water, and stepping carefully into the study with it, holding it out to Madeline.
“The water you requested, Madeline,” he said, smiling at her. “Oh, thank god,” Madeline replied, bringing it to her mouth, draining it in one go. “I was dying.” Kenzie smiled at him, sweetly, her cheeks still glowing as they had in the car, her hand resting on her mother’s shoulder, affectionately. “Where’s the bathroom? This glass looks expensive, here, take it back, I’m afraid it’s going to tell me to park its car,” Madeline said, handing it to Duncan; he took it, obediently, stifling a laugh. Kenzie took her mother’s hand again, leading her toward Duncan’s big bathroom, looking up at him as she passed, as if to give him a secret promise; soon, baby, so soon. His fingers clenched around the glass and he pressed a hand through his hair, breathing out quietly, willing himself to stay calm. We should get a mirror for the bedroom, he thought, lust clouding through his mind again. I wanna see her little face while I fuck her from behind. I wanna see our bodies pressed together, I want her to see it, I know she wants to see, I could hear her thoughts, or...something. How is that possible? But I think I did. His heart was back in his throat, pounding at his temples as he blushed at his thoughts, I don’t care, I want her, I love her. She wants me to tie her up again, fuck, I loved that, she loved it and it made me fucking crazy for her, her happiness and her pleasure are the best drug I’ve ever had--
Duncan set the glass on the side of his desk, absently, listening to Kenzie and Madeline’s voices coming back through the bedroom, Kenzie speaking audibly; “I’m just keeping a few things here,” (Duncan balked a little at the lie, but thought, sympathetically, that maybe it was better to break one thing at a time to Kenzie’s mother), “the paps have been waiting for me at work, Momby, and now they found out my address somehow--” “Are you getting a bodyguard like I mentioned?” Madeline cut her off. “Yes, Momby, yes, Duncan’s going to get me one tomorrow.” “Good, fine. Find one that looks like Andre the Giant and nobody will fuck with you.” He heard Kenzie laugh, the sound of it pressing into his heart, making him feel faint with its loveliness, stirring the whiskey in his blood. He moved out into the living room and Madeline gave him a satisfied look.
“Sweet pea, this is the most amazing space I’ve ever seen,” she said to him, and put her arms out. “Give me a hug, please.” Duncan gazed at her for a few seconds; a hug. He felt a strange stirring of overwhelmed emotion in the pit of his body. Annette rarely hugged him; she was not one for physical affection, and he distinctly remembered every time she had taken a moment to hold him--it happened less and less often as he’d grown up. He supposed it was part of the reason he felt so starved around Kenzie; so desperate to hold and be held by her, though the rest was that he felt peace in her arms he’d never felt at any other period or with any other person in his life. He was lost in these thoughts for a moment. Then, Duncan stepped to her, and folded himself into Madeline’s arms, closing his eyes. She smelled like clean sheets and red wine and sweet Coke and whiskey. Her embrace was achingly warm, and he felt tears come into the corners of his eyes. Madeline reached up and ran one of her hands along his shoulders for a moment, comfortingly; “So tall,” she said, “like I’m hugging a fucking tree.” Duncan laughed into her, blinking the tears away.
“Take care of my Kenzie Lou, sweet pea.” Madeline let go of him. “And let her take care of you, for that matter. It can’t be easy having Annette for a mother. But she loves you. I know that for certain. And my Kenzie does too.” She stepped back, pulled Kenzie to her, kissing her daughter’s little cheek (Kenzie’s eyes seemed shiny, looking into Duncan’s as her mother did this). “And now, for that big, beautiful chauffeur to drive me home.”
“I’ll walk you down, Madeline,” Duncan said, holding his arm out to her.
“So fucking handsome,” Madeline murmured again, as if to herself, and slipped her hand through the crook of his elbow. “And you smell like cedar chips and sandalwood. Ridiculous. And that smile!” She shook her head as Duncan laughed again. “Angels singing a heavenly chorus. Take me to my carriage, Prince Duncan.”
He looked at Kenzie; Prince. She smiled at him, her face full of love and her eyes glittering: yes, baby, my Prince.
And I’m going to worship you soon, he thought, eyes roving up and down her, to her little bare feet, one pressed over the other for a moment, then sliding back out in a circle across the floor, her fingers bunched together. If I’m a Prince, you’re a goddess, and I will go to your temple to lay down all my sorrows and my sins and my fear, and all my devotion.
-----
Duncan came through the penthouse door, feeling as though he was vibrating again, his nerves on fire, his stomach jumping, all the whiskey he’d had starting to make him float along the hallway on the way back, float in the elevator, floating up to Olympus, to her. Madeline had given his cheek a little kiss as he helped her into the BMW, clutching his hand for a beat longer than he expected her to; she didn’t say anything, but the glint in her eyes sent warmth along his arms, twisting around his ribcage. You have my blessing. And again, he felt fortunate beyond words; blessed, fate smiling.
He was quiet, coming back; I’ll find her, he thought with a thrill. Kenzie wasn’t in the kitchen; he took his shoes off, discarding them by the door, noiselessly, pulling his blazer off, hanging it on one of the hooks that stretched along the wall beside the door; he imagined Kenzie’s coats and sweaters and scarves hanging there soon, and his heart resounded with an urgent longing, almost painfully. I can’t wait to look at her things every day, her little shoes and her dresses and her bags and jewels; and the smell of her lingering in the rooms and the soft sounds she makes in her sleep. Duncan moved into the living room, in his socks now (cashmere again; he had dozens of pairs), unbuckling his black Movado from his wrist, setting it gently on the long coffee table; the living room was dark, the city lights vaguely visible from this distance through the window, and he thought of her hands pressed against the glass last night, their reflection in it, the cloud of her little breath steaming against it, his hand wide on her neck, covering it, her cries, the wetness that had drenched over him as she came, the way she’d moaned against him when he’d pressed the leather belt into her wrists, his tongue into her clit.
Where are you, angel.
“Mackenzie.”
“In here, Prince Duncan.”
Duncan could see the incline of her arm, the fall of her bare thigh; Kenzie was sitting on his desk in the study, the way she had days ago when he put her there and pressed his mouth between her legs, after that dinner at Le Diplomate; after that dinner where he’d realized he would do whatever it took to be with her, to win her affection, her love, and her everlasting trust. Her hair fell down her shoulders and her back, glittering in the low light of the Tiffany lamp, the only light in the room. Kenzie was naked, and the light threw her shadow against the wall, shadows along her face; her thighs pressed into the mahogany, round and white, her hands stretched behind her, her legs parted just a little, just enough for him to see the bud of her clit between them. She stared at him as he walked to the doorway (dark green, so dark they looked almost black), and he felt himself lift his hand to his jaw, along his bottom lip, unable to stop his familiar tick; that telltale sign that he was nervous, thinking, distracted, desirous. He leaned into the doorframe; leaned his head against it, fingers falling against it, gripping it, his other hand falling down from his jaw to where she’d gripped his throat an hour before; he didn’t know it but the redness from her fingers had not yet totally faded, finger-shaped tattoos along his skin. I never want to stop looking at you, he thought, and he could feel the way his lips were parted in his hunger, could feel the press of his cock into his clothes, feel the tingling at the back of his skull; I’ll worship you as long as you want me to, as long as you’ll have me.
Kenzie didn’t speak. She stared at him, her head cocked just a little, just enough to make him shiver; just enough to make him unsure of her mood. She sat up, lifting her arms so they came around her flat belly, and then he saw that in one of her hands, she had a very long, thick, black velvet ribbon.
“Where did you get that,” he whispered, his voice quiet, his breath shallow, eyes widening in his approval, the lower half of his body beginning to ache. The room felt hot; and Kenzie’s body seemed flushed with warmth in the light; he longed to press his mouth against her, but tried, was determined to try, to hold off for as long as he could.
“The clothing of women hold many secrets, Mr. Shepherd. I have my ways.”
He walked toward her, hands falling to his sides, unable to resist being near her any longer; Duncan reached out with one long hand, and his fingers pressed into Kenzie’s knee, drifting up her leg with aching slowness; he kept his eyes in hers, watching the flickers of gold through them, watching her blink, her lashes seeming impossibly long in the low light, her lips parted, a shiver cascading down from the base of her skull, it seemed, to her shoulders and spine, her nipples growing visibly hard, and Duncan felt the tremble reach her thigh, where his fingers now rested. He brought his other hand up; brought it down over her little one, the one that held the ribbon, and staring at her, into her (green, gold, bronze), he pulled it slowly out of her hand, insistently.
“Do you want me to tie you up with this, angel,” he whispered.
“Yes.” Kenzie’s gaze did not move from him, despite her shivering; she kept her eyes in his, and he felt again that somehow, he could see her thoughts, her desires, indistinctly, but in flashes; could see her need for his hands against her, rough and needy, his cock hard and deep inside her, down her throat, buried between her legs, his hand roughly pressed against her neck, his fingers flush against her sex, his mouth (I love your mouth, she thought, how could he know what she thought, but he knew, your soft beautiful lips, I love the way you taste, your teeth biting into me, your tongue, your longing, the roughness of the stubble on your cheek against mine, the feeling of your breath on my neck) and he thought I love your mouth too, angel, you taste like the rain and the dawn I love the sweetness of your body, your beautiful little hands, your shoulders and your neck, the sighs you make when I touch you, the way your eyelashes fall when you look down, the curve of your hips and your thighs, your hair like a wave of gold in the sea, and you are the most wonderful thing I have ever been allowed to touch, to pleasure, to love--
“Yes, baby. Tie me up and fuck me over your desk and let me ride your cock while we stare at this, which is so beautiful it makes me want to die.” Kenzie nodded to The Youth of Bacchus, stretching behind him, mammoth and full of life and lust and terrible beauty, “...and fuck me with this...in my ass.”
Only then did Duncan notice the two other objects Kenzie placed on the desk beside them; one was a jar of coconut oil she’d added to the list of things from her apartment she’d given him that day (it had been in her bathroom cabinet, as she’d instructed on the paper, written in her tiny loopy handwriting, mixed in among dozens of other things), and the other she was now holding in the palm of her hand; a small silicone anal plug, its bulbous shape coming to a rounded point, black, with a circular white jewel set in the outward handle.
“Oh, fuck,” Duncan whispered. “Kenzie.” His eyes went wide; his head went hazy and red and wild with desire for her and he bit his lip so hard he wondered if he’d drawn blood. Her blush set his groin on fire; her eager smile cracked his composure into fragments; he was rock hard now, painfully hard, so hard he felt his vision blur; she pressed it into his hand (it was achingly smooth) and hooked a little finger around his belt, pulling him flush against her, her hand falling to the rise of his erection through the fabric, their mouths, almost level from where she sat elevated, coming together with a moonstruck, raw lust, tasting each other deeply, immediately, as if they’d been starved of each other for days when it had only been hours. Her little fingers were undoing the buckle of his belt supernaturally fast, and he tried to steel his mind, even it, to help himself last--he felt like he was about to come already, and that would not do.
“Slow down baby,” he gasped. “I want you so much already, slow down,” and she smiled into him, coyly, nodding a little. “Awwww, poor baby,” she whispered, and he grinned into her, full of frenzied joy, elated, ecstatic in her arms. “Poor, poor baby…”
She slipped off the desk, pulling his belt out with a snap, the button and fly of his pants already down before he could blink twice, and her little hand was inside his briefs, achingly small and delicate and warm around his cock; Kenzie pulled it out over the waistband of his (always) black briefs, and leaned her little head down, her tongue falling out and swirling around the head, her saliva dripping down the side, the moisture glittering in the low light. “Fuck me,” Duncan whispered, his head falling back. She was so little standing in front of him this way, he felt as though he could pick her up with one hand and lift her over his head; his hands he saw again through what had felt like her eyes, gigantic and encompassing on her little breasts and body, smooth, long-fingered, his veins stretching through them with sinewy strength, and he had to concentrate again; had to will himself to step back from the edge. In one hand he held the velvet ribbon, in the other, the plug she’d handed him; he put them down on the desk, anxious to hold her, and picked her up easily, cradling her thighs in his hands, lifting her above his hardness, into his torso, against him, his mouth on hers again, her hands coming around to cradle his face. Still tasting her, his arms snugly around her waist and hip, he carried her around the desk so he was facing the gargantuan painting that stretched along the wall now; he set her down there gently, so she was seated in the other direction, and Kenzie grasped the buttons of his shirt, undoing them quickly, as he pulled his pants and briefs away from his body, kicking them to the side.
“I use it on myself sometimes,” she breathed into him, and Duncan moaned into her. “Sometimes I wear it outside, just for a little while, my own little secret, pressing into me. I’ve never told anyone that.”
“Baby, holy fuck,” Duncan closed his eyes. “That’s so fucking hot. Holy fuck, god, you’re so fucking beautiful. You make me so fucking hard.”
“It’s my turn to make you come twice, baby,” Kenzie whispered into his ear, her hair falling around her shoulders, you look like Aphrodite, Duncan thought, the most beautiful woman in the world. “You’ve done it to me for days now, it’s my turn. I’m gonna make you come and then I’m gonna make you come again, I want you to fill me up with your need.”
“Fuck, okay, baby,” Duncan murmured into her mouth, now naked against her. “Yes, Kenzie.”
Kenzie reached over to the coconut oil, unscrewing the top (Duncan could see her hands shake just a little, out of nervousness or excitement or both; both is what I feel baby, I feel unhinged for you, he thought), sticking her index and middle finger into it and scooping some of the sweet-smelling oil out, setting the jar down and immediately sticking the fingers between her legs, carefully soothing it over her cunt and clit, which Duncan knew must be sore still from their endless fucking; she then reached her hand out and soothed some of it down his cock, making him moan into her again, his forehead pressed against the side of her hair.
“Feels good, doesn’t it, baby,” she whispered. “Yes, baby, yes, angel--” he replied, adamant, and she cut him off.
“Okay. Now. You put some on me. You put your fingers (those big dick fuck off beautiful fingers baby--flashes of her thoughts again) inside my ass and fuck me with them for a minute.”
“Yes, Kenzie.” His heart was slamming into the bones of his ribs, fluttering, darkness at the edges of his vision again.
She slid off the desk and immediately turned her back to him, leaning over it; Kenzie brought her arms around her back so her hands rested against her asscheeks, and she pressed her wrists together, trusting, opening to him.
“I’m gonna tie you up now, angel,” Duncan breathed, his cock straining, wet in the light with the oil Kenzie had slathered onto it.
Kenzie sighed; the sound was achingly beautiful to him, contented, and anticipatory. She turned her head to the side so her eyes gazed back at him, and she nodded.
Duncan reached for the ribbon, gripping it carefully, bringing it around the back of Kenzie’s wrists, his hands brushing the sensitive skin of her lower back; he heard her moan, tiny and overwhelmed, and he closed his eyes again, back from the edge, step back. He wrapped it one more time around her wrists and then tied it carefully; a double-knot, and then he thought back to that night he saw her first on the balcony, with her sandals tied in double-knots, thought of untying them and kissing her ankles, and he longed for her, for all of her. He checked the knot, pulling gently at the fabric around her wrists, making sure it was snug. Then he pulled the ends together in one of his hands, twisting it tight around his palm and knuckles, making a fist. Kenzie’s hands pulled back towards him, enough to make her gasp a little, enough for him to see the little strain in her arms; that’s enough for now, he thought. Back from the edge, not yet.
With his right hand, Duncan reached to where Kenzie had left the open jar of oil on the edge of his desk, dipping two fingers inside; he made sure there was a decent lather around them before he pulled them out, and then, slowly, carefully,his other hand still gripping the ribbon around his fist tightly, he trailed them down the small part of Kenzie’s back; she let out a little moaning cry that made him shut his eyes again, desperate to hold on; his fingers continued their trail down between her asscheeks, to the tight pucker of her asshole, and then he slipped one of his long fingers inside her, gently, but insistently. She moaned; Kenzie’s moan reverberated in his skull like the ache of a wet dream, his body beginning to prickle with energy, like a current rested just under his skin, snapping into motion; then he slipped the other finger in, and worked them in and out of her, his cock hovering near the entrance of her cunt, but not penetrating her; not yet.
“Do you like that, baby,” he whispered to her, feeling the frenzy rising under his blood, the hum of the lust building between his temples, in the pit of his stomach.
“Fuck yes, Duncan, yes,” Kenzie’s little voice rang out toward him, insistent, needy. “Put it inside me, I’m ready, fuck me hard like I know you want to, baby, I’m yours, I want you inside me so much, babyyy…”
Duncan couldn’t resist any longer; he pulled his fingers out of Kenzie’s tight little asshole, reaching over her for the plug, dipping it into the oil, carefully using his thumb and his palm to swirl it around the soft, rounded point. Then, he dragged it, softly, down her backside again; Kenzie writhed a little, making mewling, aching sounds that made him bite into his lip to quell the rising tide in his groin, and then he pushed the plug into her ass, demandingly; Kenzie bucked up, crying out, the desire in her voice making him pull the tight ribbon back harder, so she lifted up from the edge of his desk, into him, and at the same time, Duncan pressed his cock into Kenzie’s little cunt, his mouth falling down to her ear, crying into her in turn. She was soaking wet; his cock slid into her with terrible ease as he gasped into her neck, her head turned up, her golden hair tossed against him, her arms pulled back across his waist, his arm behind his back with the tightness with which he grasped her bound wrists, her eyes staring up at The Youth of Bacchus, glassy and full of gold, her mouth open wide with her moaning, and he saw starbursts behind his eyes as he tried to gather the fragments of himself to fuck her; he managed a few hard thrusts before he could no longer hold the gathering threads of his climax, and he came into her, all thought dissolving into whiteness, so hard that a scream tinged his voice, and he pulled his head down away from her ear so the sound wouldn’t hurt her, down her back, into her hair, worshipping the soft waves on his cheek, his nose, his eyelids, his lips.
“Duncan, fuck, fuuuuck, baby, fuck yes--” Kenzie moaned, her eyes fluttering open and closed; he pulled her neck softly back, his lips falling down on hers, his cock still buried, pulsing, dripping, deep inside her, his fist easing to let the ribbon down, his fingers coming around the harshness of the fabric pressed into her wrists, thumb gliding over her skin to soothe where it had chafed her. His hand went down from her neck, around her breasts, down her stomach, around her hip to where the plug was nestled tightly inside her; he pressed it gently, and she moaned again, her mouth open to him; “Sit on my cock now, baby, with this inside you, sit on my cock with my come inside you, tied up, pressed into me, staring at me and at it--”
“Yes,” Kenzie whispered, “yes. Yes, baby.” He leaned his mouth down to her again, and she sighed into him, her body shaking and flushed with warmth against him and so small in his hands and so soft and she smelled like flowering buds and nectar and low, sweet sweat in his arms. He pulled out of her, come falling down his thigh, trickling down the back of her leg in the low light, his hands at her wrists, rubbing them gently in their trappings, then pulled her carefully around the desk by the crooks of her elbows, smoothly so she wouldn’t fall, and he kneeled down in front of her, his back to the huge painting, her facing it, looking up at it with glittering eyes again, and his hands fell down her hips and on his knees, he pressed his face between the folds at the crux of her legs, his tongue probing into her clit, one of his hands coming around to her waist, the other around to where the plug was still snugly inside her ass, and he grasped the jeweled end and twisted it, easing it back and forth so she shuddered and moaned into him, her legs opening a little onto his face, her thighs trembling, her eyes flicking between him (he looked up at her, into her face) and the painting in its Bacchanalian bliss. Then, Duncan eased himself back, pulling his mouth away from her, gripping her hips, easing her down on top of him as he laid straight, back against the Persian rug on the floor of his study, her little knees on either side of his hip bones, her hands still tied behind her, a dazed look in her hazel eyes, her mouth open to him; he lifted a thumb between her lips, against her teeth, and she sucked at it, gently, then greedily, her little tongue swirling around the pad of his thumbprint, and he felt himself growing hard again, hard with the hungry look behind her gaze, hungry at the feeling of her mouth around his finger, the come dripping down her thigh. His other hand came up to press against her clit, wet from his mouth and her arousal and his come and the coconut oil; his dragged his fingers up and down the bundle of nerves there, down around the wetness of her cunt, to the plug in her tight little asshole, twisting it again, then back, and he felt his cock jump up against her backside, against the plug, and she shuddered and whimpered into his thumb. Duncan lifted the other hand back again, let it hover over her ass for a moment, then brought it down with a light slap; Kenzie let out a little half-gasp, half-giggle of glee, her eyes fluttering open and closed. “Do that again, more, baby,” she demanded. Duncan lifted his hand again, his palm and fingers flat, and brought it down again on the blush of her ass with pointed force; a sharp snap reverberated off her skin, and she gasped, more sharply this time, the glee gone out of her voice, replaced with urgency and want.
“I’m hard again, baby,” he whispered, his voice aching, his eyes watering involuntarily, his hands trembling against her impossibly soft skin, rubbing against her ass where he’d slapped her. “I want you.”
“I want you too, baby, I’m gonna ride you until you come again,” she replied, and she lifted her hips so her cunt met the head of his cock, and she lowered herself down onto him until he was buried in her, until he could feel the pressure of the plug in her ass rubbing achingly against his balls; Kenzie crying out piteously as it did, her hips bucking forward, sending white bolts of lighting through his body, into the dark space behind his eyes. She was so soft and so wet and so smooth against him that Duncan was moaning before he even realized; the sounds coming from him involuntary and desperate to have her, all of her. He brought his hand around her arms, gripping tightly around the ends of the ribbon again with his fist, forcing her roughly down onto him, grinding his hips up into her, and his fingers toyed with the plug so she keened and tossed her hair back, her neck bare and glowing in the low light, her nipples hard and her breasts checkered with goosebumps.
“You are more beautiful than any painting, Kenzie,” he whispered. “You’re more beautiful than any art ever created by any person in all human time, you’re more beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen, more beautiful to me than the stars, and I love you, I love you, I’d do anything for you--”
“I love you, Duncan, I love you too, baby--” Her hips were moving harshly into him, and he had to stop speaking, had to stop his frenzied admonitions of passion, his eyes rolling back into his head, his mouth opening at the sensation of her grinding down onto him this way, her head thrown back, her eyes heavy-lidded with her lust, her body gyrating mercilessly onto his cock, grinding him down into nothing, into a shell of himself, her need overwhelming, like an energy field made of the fragments of stars blown to the corners of the universe in their cosmic dust, and he felt as though her hands, or the secret hands of her soul, of her spirit, were reaching down into him and pulling him apart, pulling his soul into languid pieces that she was devouring, her power over him overwhelming in this moment, and he was happy to be devoured, being devoured by her this way was the only thing he had ever truly wanted, he felt, she was the goddess he wanted to be beholden to, the goddess he would lay his passions down at the altar of, until the end of time.
And then Kenzie looked down into his eyes; he could see the power coiled inside them, gold like stars in far-flung cosmic radiance, and she said “come for me, beloved,” and he did, up into the sweetness between her hips, the void of the space inside her, came so hard he left himself behind again for a moment, knowing nothing, unto death, but that she was here with him, and he belonged to her, and he knew with certainty in that moment that she belonged to him, too, as two pieces of the same soul belong always to each other and cannot be kept asunder, and she shuddered as she came, too, down onto him, her cunt gripping his length with a strength that shook every drop of his release out of him, her lips twisting into yes, yes, yes, my love, and there was nothing else.
------
Duncan tenderly untied the ribbon around Kenzie’s wrists, soothing her arms around to him, bringing his mouth against the redness where they’d chafed her, his heart aching at the marks they’d left. “Are you okay, baby, are you okay?” He held the redness against his cheek, up to his face, as if he could soothe the marks away with his skin, with his breath. “I’m fine, baby, it’s okay, I wanted you to do it, it was perfect, it was just what I wanted, you made me feel so fucking good, baby,” she whispered up to him, her fingers falling along his bottom lip. “You did so fucking good, baby,” she said, and he smiled into her, his eyes falling over her, his love for her overwhelming him like a wave crashing onto a vast shore.
“Let’s take a shower, baby,” he murmured into her hand, and she nodded. When they were in the quiet of the immaculate bathroom, Kenzie grasped his hand gently, leaning over the sink, lifting her backside to him, bringing it to the jeweled handle of the plug still inside her--he knew innately to gently pull as she pushed it out of her, and he set it in the bowl of the sink, turning the faucet on over it, using hot water, almost scalding, to rinse it, her hands coming around him, squeezing soap onto her palms and bringing them around his hands, caressing them and the plug gently with the suds until it was clean of all residue and oil.
“Baby...Kenzie. Did you love someone before me?”
The question had slipped out of him before he realized it; her little arms were still around him, reaching up to turn the faucet off, setting the plug gently on the side of the sink, her little wet hands slipping back around him so she moved beside him now, looking up at him, curious, her eyes bright with the residue of her orgasm, sweat at the baby hairs around her forehead, her hair hanging down her shoulders, tossed and tangled in their passion. He could see the glitter of his come, now drying, on the inside of her thigh, under the rise of her round ass, pink from his attentions. She reached out for his hand; Duncan grasped it, and Kenzie didn’t say anything, only continued to look at him as he gently pulled her into the shower, twisting the silver knob, hot water falling down his back and against her thighs as she continued to stare at him with that brightness boring into him.
“I was just...thinking. Today. About the people I’d known before you. And I wondered if you had loved someone before. And how it felt. And how, for me...this feels different.” Duncan gently moved his hands down her frame, soothing the hot water against it, cocking his head just a little, his eyes roving over her face (I want to memorize every detail of it, the little curves of her lips, the dips of her cheeks, the way her nose turns up just a little, defiant, the exact arrangements of the flecks of color in her eyes), hungry for words from her, hungry for those strange flashes of her thoughts he imagined he could hear sometimes. Kenzie turned so her back was to him, to the water, a tiny moan escaping from her throat as the heat seeped down her neck and back and ass, soothing the soreness and the stings of their fucking, washing away the come and the sweat and the oil. Still, she didn’t speak. Duncan pressed his face into the wetness of her hair, hands on her arms now, bringing his mouth down to her ear. She moved back, into him, turning her head towards him over her shoulder, her eyes closed, her hands around her arms, fingers threading through his.
“I did, once.” Kenzie finally spoke, so soft it was almost inaudible, and Duncan held her, quietly, lost in the smell and feeling of her, heart swollen with the intensity of the love he felt for her in this moment, listening to her little voice and the fall of the water and the soft swirl of it around the drain. “Just once. When I was still at college. His name was Tyler. He was going to be a pediatrician. We were together for three years. And--and it didn’t feel like this at all. It was...quieter. So much quieter. It was like...a little stream in a forest. And this is like the ocean. Endless and so deep and so far and so much...and so immediate. So much that it scares me. So much...”
The One, he thought. She didn’t need to say it. My other half. Soulmates. The One. You are the universe, the beginning, and the end. The only One.
Kenzie turned to face him again, looking up into his eyes, to his mouth, down his sex, now limp from post-coitus, to his feet and the shower floor, her hands coming up to press her little fingertips into his belly, softly. “And you? Tell me. Who you loved before.” He loved the little crown of her head, wet and glittering with water, loved the pressure of the little pads of her fingertips, loved her little feet, one pressing against the other for a moment, her little tick, like a ballerina.
“There were two. One while I was at Columbia. Misha. She was a TA. It just...happened. She was older than me and seemed to understand so much more about life. She’s a professor there now. And...Evan. He lives in LA now. Neither really ended badly...they just...faded.”
Kenzie nodded at him. “I had a feeling you...had been with a man before. With men. I...I wanted to tell you, I’ve never been with a woman, but...I think I would have. If I’d met the right one. You know? I just...wanted to tell you that.”
“I understand, baby. If you still want that--”
Kenzie shook her head. “Duncan, I only want you. Because this…”
“This is our destiny.” He pressed his hands up against the sides of her cheeks, pressing his nose against hers, the steam rising around them now, as if to shield them from the eyes of the world. “This is Fate. To have found you, Mackenzie, is a miracle. But it...feels like it was meant to happen.”
“Yes,” and he could hear the tears in her voice, see the trembling of her bottom lip. “Yes.”
He kissed her again, his thumbs coming to the corners of her eyes (hot tears or the water, it doesn’t matter, I want to cry, too, just for a little while), the relief of having found her in a world of billions shaking him to the core again, her little arms cradling into him, and then he pulled her little face into that space under his arm, against his skin, and he felt the hot tears course down his cheek as they held each other, he could feel the soft beating of her heart against his stomach, could feel the hot tears falling from her eyes down his arm, and they stood under the water that way for a long time, only able to hold each other, and to cry, tears mingling and washing away down the drain, melding to the water, down and out to the sea.
