It's a fandom event that runs from 9th to 15th of February 2026. Everyone is free to participate in any way they wish, following the prompts provided in this post.
This is an event inspired by Valentine's Day, but your creations don't need to be be fluffy or romantic - in fact there are two types of prompts: for fluff and angst, both! Romantic relationships are also not necessary.
You can find prompt list in the above picture or down below:
Day 1: Honey / Teeth
Day 2: Safe Place / Loneliness
Day 3: Embrace / Broken
Day 4: Sweater / Rain
Day 5: Lust / Blood
Day 6: Lover / Stranger
Day 7: Soulmate / Love Triangle
When: February 9 - 15 (2026)
How to Participate:
Create something inspired by the prompts of the event for The Wayhaven Chronicles fandom. Your creation can be anything from fanfiction to fanart to moodboards, headcanons and playlists, and everything in between!
There are no sign-ups and you can participate as much or little as you want - you can make something for every day or just one. It's all up to you! You can also create something for all the 14 available prompts instead of just 7 if you want.
Please make sure to tag this blog @/wayhavenvalentines and/or use the hashtag #wayhaven valentines when you post your work so we can reblog it and share it with others!
If you have any questions, you can reach out to this blog via dms or asks. Asks are preferred, so that everyone participating in the event can see it.
Guidelines for participating under the cut:
Guidelines:
NSFW content is allowed, but please make sure to properly tag or otherwise indicate that your creation is not intended for minors. NSFW content is tagged as #nsft and #mdni in the blog.
While it's preferred that creations are posted during the event, late submissions are also welcome and will be reblogged and shared on the blog.
Using Generative AI is not allowed.
Discrimination towards minorities is not acceptable. This includes but is not limited to racism (including whitewashing), sexism, transphobia and homophobia.
Be kind and considerate towards other content creators. It's strongly encouraged to reblog other people's work and participate in the event in that way as well!
anyway, hi! here's my two (very late) prompt fills for wayhaven valentines. :)
tagging the people who have liked this post: @xx-toto-xx, @turtleybeachin, @agentnatesewell, @dumortains, @thee-morrigan, @wayhavenots, @lalizah, @blu-ewraith
prompt 1: honey (ava/nat)
excerpt:
She is honey-like under Ava's hands – sickly sweet and sticky soft with something rather like longing steadily built over the several centuries they have known each other.
It's almost frightening. To finally have each other in this way. In a way that leaves everything else behind in the dust.
Nat says something. Ava isn't certain what, but her tone is dripping with fondness so enermous that she feels weak even without understanding. Sometimes they don't need words to be in the same wavelength. It comes with the territory, she supposes, for knowing someone so intimately without bounds.
(Codepency, some would call it – have called it. Ava would disagree if there was a point to argue against such a claim. There isn't.)
She looks at Nat now and thinks that she will never truly deserve her. She won't ever be worthy. It's a rather terrible thought – to have something without being in right to acquire it.
read on ao3
prompt 3: embrace (m!detective/felix)
excerpt:
The thing about Anthon Creek is that he is very good at loving.
It's a skill he has learned across his almost 37 years; he knows how to do it utterly wholly and with all of his heart and body, he knows how it swells inside his ribcage, how it aches sweetly in his belly. He knows it well. It's familiar. It's a sort of home.
He feels it every time he looks at Felix – even with just a quick glance from the corner of his eye to see his happy grin when something particular entertaining or exiting happens. When Anthon sees his painted fingernails or rainbow socks, when they hug and Anthon presses a gentle sort of kiss to the crown of Felix's head. He is so helpless against the feeling that is constantly shining through his chest like a lighthouse.
Anthon is just damn bad at actually saying it aloud.
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: The Wayhaven Chronicles - Mishka Jenkins
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Original Female Character(s)/Original Female Character(s)
Characters: Original Female Character(s)
Additional Tags: technically set post-book 3 but does not interact much with outside events, Meet-Cute, all my fics lately are meet cutes lmfao, middle-aged repressed lesbian meets her soulmate, her soulmate happens to be an 80 year old werewolf butch, Human/Monster Romance, Emotionally Repressed, Year of Yuri, it will be Forever before the main fic series catches up to this but i couldnt wait to give Tiffany some love
Series: Part 23 of scum (wayhaven dockworker)
Summary:
The werewolf Saegnen did not expect to settle in the forest outside Wayhaven without her pack- but greedy youths are fools, even when they are family. So here she is, alone. The Agency has done what they can. They’ve given her a house, a bank card and account, and a list of things that they recommend she buys. They’d buy them for her, but they find it helps new arrivals ground themselves in their new, human identities, if they can select their furnishings and appliances themselves.
How hard is it, really, to buy a vacuum cleaner?
Written for @wayhavenvalentines, for the day 3 prompts ‘broken’ and 'embrace’.
for @wayhavenvalentines prompts Sweater/Rain I have unleashed AJ/Nate. Was meant to be timeline vague, but I just love their endearments so much it's now post book 3. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
---
Today was supposed to be perfect.
They both had off--the whole day, even, the weather was lovely, they had a picnic to enjoy. Nate had prepared it, of course, refusing to let her help. Abigail had smiled, protested, and then let him spoil her.
She should have known, with their track record, that an attempt to spend time together would be interrupted. Not by the Agency this time, or Unit Bravo, or Tina. By the gosh darn weather.
At least the freak rainstorm gave them half of their planned meal before springing up. And at least they were close eough to her building with Nate's super speed they were able to get to shelter relatively quickly. Didn't save them from getting drenched.
Nate hesitated at the door of her flat, as if worried about dripping on the floor.
"C'mon," Abigail chuckled, beckoning him in. "I'm not leavin' ya in the hall like a stray pup. It can handle a lttle water, yeah?"
"I suppose it has dealt with worse, hasn't it?" Nate said with a small laugh, raking soaked hair out of his face. He headed for the kitchen with the picnic basket. "I'll see if any of the food is salvagable."
"I hope so, you spent a fair bit of time on it," she said, trying not to stare too hard at the way his deep green shirt was plastered to his frame.
She failed miserably until he turned and caught her in the act with a grin. She cleared her throat and ducked her head. "I should... go find dry things."
She scurried toward the bedroom before Nate could make a comment that would undo her resolve.
Her bedraggled hair went in a bun. Sad as it looked, she knew better than to try taming the curly red mess when it was wet. Abigail grabbed a pair off well-worn jeans and one of her father's old work shirts s cool air on damp skin made her shiver. She bit her lip and pulled something else from the drawer before depositing all the clothes on the bed.
She dried off and dressed in the dry clothes, the fawn-brown corduroy settling around her shoulders like a hug from the father she didn't remember. She did just enough buttons to be modest(ish) and snagged the other sweater she'd selected on her way out of the bedroom.
"Any survivors?" she asked as she returned to the main flat.
"Dessert," Nate reported with wry smile as he turned, "I suppose because we had't gotten into it y-"
Rather than dwell on the cut off words, the look in his eyes, or the way it made her feel like her skin was on fire, Abigail proffered the dove grey sweater.
"I, ah, can't help with the jeans, since y' don't keep a change of clothes here, but if y' want a dry shirt, this should fit," she said, biting her lip as he left the ruined food to approach.
He bent close, breath warm against her skin as he whispered, "Are you trying to get me out of my clohes, ya rouhi?"
Her toes curled against the wood floor. "An' into dry ones," she whispered back hoarsely. She tugged slightly at one of the buttons on his soaked shirt with her free hand. "You might no' hafta worry about catchin' cold, a chuisle, but surely it'd be more comfortable...?"
Nate's fingers traced her jaw, tipping it up to steal a kiss. "And you're sure it'll fit?"
"As I can be," she murmured against his mouth. "It's one a' my da's."
Hee started to pull back, stopped as she clenched the front of his shirt. "AJ, I can't-- I know what those mean to you."
"Aye, and I've bunches." Abigail pulled him back for a kiss. "If I didn't want t' share these I'd be offerin' a blanket." She actually managed to undo a button one-handed. "I dunno if he was close t' your height or anything, but this one's roughly the same amount baggy on me as when I wear your shirts, so..."
He chuckled and kissed her forehead. "Such scientific measuring," he teased.
"Since I never met him, that I can remember, I do what I can, yeah?" She set the sweater on the back of a chair to have both hands for his shirt. "Course, he prob'ly wasn't as tall as you... might be a wee bit short." Her hands, rather than work the buttons, slid under the wet fabric to trace his stomach and hips.
Nate studied her, amusement and want and something deeper all swirling in his eyes. "Half the time I don't know what to do with this new bold streak of yours, AJ," he murmured, then shivered, eyes fluttering half-closed, as her hands returned to center. "Besides appreciate it, obviously."
"Obviously," Abigail giggled. Truth be told, she didn't know where the boldness came from any more than Nate knew what to do with it. She resumed unbuttoning his shirt, tugging him down so she could whisper, "It's a very comfortable sweater, a chuisle."
Nate gave a small groan at her wheedling and swiftly finished the unbuttoning and removal of his soaked shirt. He draped it over a chair, cupping her jaw for a fervent kiss before reaching for the sweater.
Just because her end goal truly was him in a dry shirt, at least, didn't keep Abigail from ogling(did it count as such with your boyfriend?) the planes of his chest and stomach while they were visible. Not that she minded terribly once they weren't; the view was just as grand.
The soft grey of the sweater was a lovely contrast with the deep tan of his skin, the slight V-ed neckline a horrendous tease, the fit close through his shoulders and chest, the sleeves perhaps a handspan too short--
--and the hem resting a centimeter or two above the waist of his jeans.
Abigail bit her lip and wrenched her gaze from the tantalizing sight. Her own shirt was suddenly far too hot. "Good?"
Nate smiled and nodded. "Yes, thank you. Though I think it's safe to say I'm a bit taller than your father was," he chuckled sheepishly, running one hand through his hair. The motion made the sweater ride slightly higher.
Abigail cleared her throat. She wondered how obvious her blush was; pale skin made that a losing battle to hide, and she was far too hot to not be blushing. "Sorry... sorry I don't have any jeans t' go with it."
"They didn't get that wet," Nate assured her, though with how much rain had been dumped on them she found that hard to believe. He tipped his head toward the kitchen. "Since we lost the rest of the main course, shall we skip ahead to dessert?"
There was a trace of smugness on the words that said he knew exactly what he was doing to her and it made her heart pound.
Heartbeat. Right. He probably did, then.
"Dessert... dessert sounds grand," Abigail fumbled, fidgeting with the rolled cuffs of her shirt. "What didja make?"
"I'll show you." Nate turned to walk back into the kitchen and she nearly lost herself staring at the jeans-sweater gap.
She lacked the saliva to swallow, so she settled for a deep breath and mental DOWN, girl as she followed him. Save those thoughts for when he's not wearing your father's sweater, yeah?
Thus self-chastised, she smiled and gasped appreciately when Nate pulled out the berry crumble he'd made for dessert. He set portions on small plates and they ate at her kitchen table, talking about nothing and everything. It may not have gone to plan, but Abigail did have to admit this was pretty perfect.
And what followed dessert upgraded it to completely perfect.
Synopsis: Nate helps Avery with her laundry. Avery wears a dress that she doesn't mind getting dirty. (Mostly, they have sex.)
Warnings: Explicit sexual content.
Excerpt:
Nate skims a hand down the fabric in front of her stomach. "Then I should be careful not to wrinkle it," he murmurs. "Or rip it." His hand moves lower. "Or get it dirty."
i wanted to do another farah scene because i feel like day 1 was a little short lol
Twin pinpricks of pain sink into my wrist, and despite any steel I'd tried to infuse into my nervous system, it still shocks me enough to open my eyes. Farah's still there, candlelight flickering across her smooth umber skin, golden gaze glittering in the muted darkness.
Just like this, it's enough to steal my breath away, especially when her stare shifts to meet mine, all of her emotion laid bare. All the adoration, the want, the hunger — it twists my heart into knots, reaches down into my sternum with cold claws and tugs me forward. The shorter agent's mouth drops away from my hand for hardly a moment, but it's enough for me to cup her jaw, guiding her face away long enough that I can press a kiss to her forehead.
Muscles in Farah's shoulders tense as if she's going to dive back in, keep sucking a bruise onto my skin, tongue lashing over the small wound and the sensitive skin just enough to make my heart skip a beat. It's too much, too much, and too soon. Even just this short of a time has my nerves on fire, leaving me dancing at the edge of a cliff when I can't see the bottom.
It's exciting. Thrilling. But frightening enough that when she moves to graze her mouth across my fluttering pulse, I pull her back, pressing my forehead against hers to ground myself.
"Are you alright, Merlina?"
"Yeah just…that's enough for now."
Even just a simple sentence has my chest aching with the force it takes to speak without trembling. Farah's body is still coiled like a cat ready to pounce, eyes still dark with want as she licks her lips, tongue running temptingly across her fangs. She's not fully there, wrangling herself back from the same edge that I'm dangling on.
Still, blood oozes from my hand, a fact I remember when I feel it dripping onto my thigh. It's certainly not helping either of us to leave it exposed to the air, so I quickly tuck it against Farah's waist, putting pressure on the small wound and her body in a comforting gesture.
"Babe…"
"Yeah. I'm here."
"I'm sorry. I'm so—"
I taste myself on her lips when I cut her off, "We wanted to try. We tried."
"...Are you sure?"
"I'm okay, Farah."
"I'm sorry."
"I know."
We sit in silence like that for a long while. Long enough that when I shift away, I have to peel her jacket from my skin. Long enough that my blood has dried on her chin and her weight on my lap has begun to make my thighs feel a bit tingly. Still, I can't help but chuckle at her crestfallen expression.
"On the bright side, we found something we both like. Maybe we could just…work up to it."
Farah's lips twist into that coy smile she reserves just for me, eyebrows faintly lifting as if my response was unexpected. Then she laughs. Softly, breathily, more a shuddering exhale through her nose than anything else.
It truly felt like a family breakfast when they sat at the table together, with Detective occupying the seat across from Ava. She smiled brightly, complimenting Nat’s fruit-cutting skills, seemingly unbothered with the fact that she was the only one at the table who had a plate of food in front of her instead of a blood pouch. If Grace was only trying to pretend that she didn’t care, that wasn’t obvious, because her expression and her heartbeat showed that she was completely relaxed in their company. The way Ava could only wish she were around the Grace.
The breakfast continued with the usual banter and Nat being completely horrified by everyone’s manners. Grace still didn’t look bothered in the slightest. It should’ve calmed Ava, made her feel less on guard, but she only tensed up even more. There was a pouch in front of her too, and hunger crept inside of her, a familiar aching in her throat insistent and harsh on her senses. Yet, that morning, her craving was lying right in front of her instead.
Grace showed her nails, with red hearts painted on them, to Farah, barely batting an eye as Morgan ripped the pouch and drank straight out of it. Nothing was stopping Ava from calming her hunger, from doing the thing that she did every morning, the only thing that allowed her to continue existing. Nothing but fear. That feeling was constantly present ever since Grace became a part of the team. Fear of losing her, yes, but also the fear of hurting her if Ava couldn’t keep herself under control. That task should’ve been easy for Ava. After all, keeping things in control was her job description and her personal motto. If only Grace hadn’t awoke things inside her that made Ava imagine dropping it all and losing herself in the detective’s touch, in her gaze. In the scent of her blood.
Ava exhaled, pressing her teeth together, trying not to think, not to imagine how it would feel to have a taste of that power that was running through Grace’s veins, but it was impossible. Somehow, maybe because of her nature, the attraction she felt to Detective got mixed up with the craving for her blood, creating a dangerous mix that might’ve gotten them both hurt.
“What does it taste like?” Grace suddenly asked, not looking at anyone in particular, just throwing the question in the air.
“Why, do you want to have a try?” Morgan asked with a laugh, which wasn’t unusual for her ever since Grace and Morgan became friends.
“That’s not what I’m asking,” Grace continued, nothing but interest in her tone. “It’s just for me blood tastes as if I were licking a metal rod with a nice coat of rust on it. I’m curious if it’s the same for you, but that taste somehow becomes pleasant or if it’s different entirely.”
“Way to lighten the mood,” Farah smiled, but her tone was playful. It seemed that no one was bothered with Grace’s question as much as Ava was, but it wasn’t a surprise at all.
“It doesn’t taste like rust, it just tastes good,” Morgan said nonchalantly.
“Like a cool lemonade in the hot afternoon,” Farah said dreamily, making Grace snort.
“Did you hear it in a movie?” Grace poked at her.
“I did not! It was my fully original thought!” Farah claimed, and, to Ava’s relief, continuous banter between them made Grace forget about the topic, or so she thought.
Somehow, after breakfast, the two of them were left alone in the kitchen. Ava knew that it must’ve been Nat’s doing, her friend’s attempt to get them closer, even if Ava didn’t ask for it.
“Funny, isn’t it?” Grace asked, noticing it too. “How they all had to leave so we would be alone together.”
“We should let them know that their methods are becoming too obvious,” Ava let herself a moment of ease as she looked at Grace’s back while Detective was washing the dishes. Her wavy brown hair was pulled up into a short ponytail, revealing her neck. A black snake and flowers tattoo was on the back of it, bright against Grace’s pale skin. Ava wanted to touch that spot with her lips, to wrap her arms around Grace’s middle, pull her closer… She shook her head, chasing away unwanted thoughts.
“You never answered,” Grace said, turning off the water and wiping her hands.
Ava froze in place, hoping beyond hope that Grace wouldn’t continue, but she did. She turned around, looking at Ava with her hazel eyes.
“Is it truly so important for you to know the answer?” Ava asked, grateful for the distance between them.
“What if it is?” it was unusual for Grace to look so serious. Most of the time, she was sarcastic, turning the most serious topics into a joke, but it was only a surface. The more time Ava spent with her, the more depth she could see in Detective. Hidden talents, hidden emotions, hidden pain. “Humor me, Ava. I’m curious to know.”
It wasn’t hard to notice the way Detective reacted each time Ava used her name in a conversation – her breathing would catch in her throat, her heart rate would become erratic, but what Grace didn’t seem to understand was that Ava’s name on her lips was doing the same thing to Commanding Agent.
She didn’t want to answer, even when Grace metaphorically pushed her against the wall, but she couldn’t run away. Maybe, if she answered, Grace would understand the true meaning of her words and stay away, like she was supposed to.
“It tastes like strength, power. It makes impossible feel probable,” those words didn’t seem right, they couldn’t describe everything that was there, but it was the closest, safest explanation she could offer to Grace.
“Thank you for answering,” she said, not a sign of fear in her body language.
Ava didn’t know why her words calmed the detective, but she knew that she didn’t tell her everything. She didn’t say a word about Grace’s blood, about the pull of it, about the much greater power it was offering to anyone who might dare to taste it. About Ava’s desire to have even if only a drop of it on her tongue to find out how it tasted. The possibility of it ever happening terrified her. And, as it did with everything she was afraid of, this fear became a reality.
Despite all the effort they put into her protection, Grace was taken. They quickly found her location, but it was only a temporary hideout. There was no time for them to wait for the backup, not that Ava would wait even if there was. She needed to see Grace, to know that she was unharmed, with her, and that was how she lost her cool.
The fight between Unit Bravo and the Trappers was brutal, but they didn’t try to win, they were only trying to get an opening to find and return Grace. They were injured and outnumbered, it was a losing game. If it was anyone else, any other person, Ava would’ve weighed their options to see that one life wasn’t worth losing her team. But it wasn’t any other person, it was Grace.
Guilt was eating Ava alive when she left everyone behind just to find Grace. She was locked in a cage, the bars of it covered with magical symbols, but she was unharmed and alive, and that was what mattered. It did, until the moment Ava realized that no matter how strong she was, the cage wouldn’t bend or break.
“I can’t get you out,” she said, more to herself. She heard Nat’s scream of pain somewhere far away, cutting right through her. She was useless. She couldn’t save her team, she couldn’t even free Grace, what was she good for?
“You should help the others,” Grace said in a firm tone, noticing Ava’s state. “I will be okay, they won’t.”
“And what will happen to you? I won’t let them take you and drain you! I won’t let you go!” what Ava felt wasn’t attachment, it was far beyond love, it was devotion. She was willing to give away anything, everything for Grace, but in that moment, that wasn’t enough.
“We only have one option then,” Grace said, still calm. Ava had no idea how Detective could keep her cool in such moments, but she did, and Ava was grateful for it. “You can save me and save the team, but only if you trust me.”
Ava blinked, not sure what Grace could’ve meant, until Detective pulled her arm through the bars, showing her bare wrist, with lines of blue veins on it, to Ava.
“Count it as getting back at me for shooting you the first time we met,” Grace said with a light smile, but it was a failed attempt to lighten the situation.
“No!” Ava stepped away. “I won’t drink from you.”
“What other option is out there?!” Grace almost screamed. “I don’t want any of you to get hurt because of me, of this stupid power I didn’t want! If we can use it to save everyone, why would you turn it away?”
Ava swallowed hard, temptation growing inside her with every moment she looked at so freely offered wrist. Grace had no idea what she was doing, but Ava did.
“There must be another option,” she shook her head, in the last attempt to avoid something she knew was going to change everything both for her and for Grace. As Ava said it, she heard screams of agony again. No, she couldn’t lose them, any of them.
“There is no other option!” Grace finally lost her cool, screaming with anger. “Take it, or we’ll all be dead!”
Desperation should never be a deciding factor in such important decisions, but in that moment, it was. Grace was right, and it was the only time Ava wished she wasn’t.
The guilt she felt only grew stronger. Even when Ava put both of her hands on Grace’s forearm, keeping her still. Even when her lips touched the skin, feeling the rapid pulse underneath. But there was no guilt when she pierced the skin and tasted the treasure that was hiding underneath.
It was everything she thought it would be, and that was the most horrifying part of all. Ava heard a small whimper of pain when she bit into Grace’s wrist, but the sound was muffled by a whole different kind of pulse. Her blood wasn’t just a promise of power, it was much bigger than that. One person, one human, should never have had it when it could have done so much for others. As it ran down Ava’s throat, all she knew was that she could do anything, take anything, have anything she wanted. There was no fear, no regret, only this power that was making her feel more alive than she ever was.
“Ava,” Detective’s voice was weak as she called for her, almost gently. It was so easy to ignore it.
Her fingers pressed tighter into Grace’s arm, stopping her from moving completely. Ava would’ve preferred to drink from her neck, but it was good enough. She was still so warm, her heart beat so fast she was almost willingly giving away the power hiding inside her, and Ava was taking it. She wanted to take it all.
“Ava, please, stop,” Grace was in pain, that was clear in her tone, but why would it matter to Ava when she had it all, when she could’ve drained her fully?
She felt a touch. It wasn’t painful, it wasn’t Grace’s way to hurt her. She caressed Ava’s cheek with her free hand, trying to get her back to her senses. And, somehow, it worked better than any pleas would.
Ava sharply let go of her arm, and Grace fell back, looking pale and breathless. The wound on her arm was bleeding. The regret Ava felt when she looked at her was unlike anything she ever felt before. It crushed her, squeezed her heart in an iron grip. She didn’t say another word to Grace – what was the point? Any apology would sound hollow falling from her lips while they were still stained with Grace’s blood. Ava did what she was supposed to do with all that power she stole so viciously – she used it to take down the Trappers and save her family. By the time the Agency arrived, she left. She couldn’t face Grace, she couldn’t let anyone know about how deep her shame ran and how much she regretted hurting something as precious as her.
The weeks after her mistake were pure torture. Ava avoided Grace as much as she possibly could, and even if they were in the same room, Ava didn’t look her in the eyes. She could see a bandage on Grace’s arm, and she knew what was hiding underneath – bite marks, bruises she left while holding her, pain of betrayal. Ava couldn’t imagine Grace would want to be close to her either, not after what she did to her. She could never earn Grace’s trust again. She probably thought Ava a monster, the way she always should’ve thought, considering Ava’s actions.
Ava knew that they would have to speak, that avoiding Grace fully wasn’t possible, but Detective was also actively searching for this opportunity, and, at some point, they both ended up at the library.
“I have to go,” Ava said, not even trying to make an excuse as to why. It wasn’t safe for Grace to be alone with her. But Detective stood firmly in front of the door, rage written on her face.
“Are you fucking serious, Ava?” she sounded exhausted. “I’m tired of chasing you around, we have to talk!”
“The only words I can offer you are the ones of apology,” Ava wanted to stay back, but after barely seeing Grace for weeks, she was pulled towards her. She wondered if it was the pull of Detective’s blood.
“Apology?” Grace looked shocked, as if Ava said nonsense. “I wanted to talk because you’re clearly not fine. You have nothing to apologize for.”
It was Ava’s turn to look shocked. Was Grace worried about her? After what she did? After almost killing her?
“You're surely joking,” Ava let out, losing her footing in this conversation. “I hurt you, I… I never should’ve done it. And now I can never apologize enough to atone for the pain I caused you.”
Grace rolled her eyes. Ava was losing her mind with guilt, and that was Detective’s response.
“Not to hurt your feelings, but it wasn’t that painful,” she let out, as if what happened was nothing. “We both did what we had to, so the people we love could stay alive. There shouldn’t be any shame in it.”
Grace didn’t understand. She was there, she was hurt, but somehow she still didn’t understand.
“Grace, I was about to kill you,” Ava said, dropping all of her defenses in the hope that Detective would finally understand. “I almost did.”
“But you stopped!” Grace said with determination. “This fucking blood of mine is too much for everyone, I get it, but you stopped. That’s what matters.”
Ava still couldn’t understand. How could Grace say such a thing? How could she brush it off?
“I’m more than willing to give you a second chance, why won’t you give it to yourself?” Grace asked with sadness, trying to look into Ava’s eyes, but she avoided her gaze.
“You shouldn’t. I will only end up hurting you again,” the words were bitter on her tongue. Ava didn’t want to believe in them, but life showed her that if something bad had a chance to happen, it would.
“I’m fucking tired of this!” Grace was fuming with anger as she stubbed her finger in the middle of Ava’s chest. “You’re so willing to give up on us, you don’t even need a push. You’re ready to ruin it with your own hands just so you can’t get hurt. I thought you were braver than that.”
Ava didn’t have anything to say. Grace was right about everything. And especially about what a coward she was.
“There is no us,” she could only say. It was laughable to pick at words, but what else could she do to not hurt Grace even more?
“Keep repeating that and one day it might become true,” there were tears in Grace’s voice, and Ava lifted her hand, trying to stop her from leaving, but it was too late. Grace walked away, leaving Ava alone with her regret.
Mason turned to lust as the best way to cope with the pain of existence. For at least a moment he could just be. It’s been his succor for a long time. It has never burned like this.
Now it does.
There is nothing Tallis does that does not drive him crazy with want.
Her first words to him, dripping with sarcasm, unimpressed beyond the initial physical attraction seems to have triggered some sort of primal response in him. Of course she’s sexy, but he’s never had a problem finding attractive partners. It’s something else.
Confidence?
Aloofness?
It doesn’t matter.
All that matters is that he wants to watch her, track her sinuous movements and delight at that, listen to her say his name, smell the heady aroma of her own lust, touch her, test the softness of her skin, the give of her flesh and muscle, wants to taste her. Fuck. He wants to be wrapped in nothing but her, senses overflowing with Tallis, consumed.
Wants to stake his claim.
Just once, he tells himself.
Just once, to get that heady rush, that temporary relief.
Hunger pt 2
Hunger breathes fire in his veins.
The sticky sweetness of Tallis’s blood beckons to him, even through the haze of his fear, his concern. It claws at his throat, coats it. He licks his lips, feels the tip of a fang.
He fights it with everything he has.
There is nothing he wants less than to hurt Tallis.
From her first case with him, falling into the clutches of that weak two-bit scientist. Of course she escaped, but not before he did…whatever he did to her. Now her blood is…something else.
Strength?
Power?
It doesn’t matter.
All that matters is that he won’t make his problem her problem. He will stare into the sun, listen to Felix’s thumping dubstep, walk through the fragrance section of a store, strap himself to a pole in the middle of an ice storm in winter before he hurts her. Fuck. He wants to only ever make her feel good.
Wants to keep her safe.
Not even once, he tells himself.
Not even once, to get that heady rush, that temporary thrill.
ohhh the intricacies of vampire romance and the essential role that deliciously tempting and powerful blood plays in it. id love to put them under a microscope and study them forever
commissions open!
day 1 || day 2 || day 3 || day 4 || day 5 || day 6 || day 7
Rating: Explicit (mdni)
Word Count: ~2600
Pairing: Mason/Sai
Tags: deep conversations during a hand job, inappropriate use of a laundry room, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mason being blunt but soft at the same time
Summary: Sometimes, the anxiety hits at the worst possible moment. Sometimes, the questions about who he is and where he belongs get so strong they crowd out everything else. Sometimes, during an intimate moment with the vampire he's pretty sure he loves.
Read in full on AO3 or below the cut if not a registered user.
Had someone told him that one day he would willingly be in a laundry room with his boyfriend pinning him to the wall grinding him into a lust-drunk frenzy he would have called them insane. Had they told him he would also have a game with this boyfriend betting on how long it would take until he forgot to modulate his volume and get them caught he would have been aghast and horrified.
And yet.
He moans into Mason’s mouth, hands tangling into his wild hair desperate to keep him right there because oh, oh he knows he's getting louder, but he can’t stop himself. One of Mason's hands is gripping his hip, his fingers sometimes squeezing just hard enough for the dull pain to bleed into the rising pleasure, and he's thrusting against him in a way that's just right, the friction and the pressure and the angle, and oh, oh God-!
Sai throws his head back and it's only Mason’s quick reflexes to slide his hand between him and the wall that saves him from ruining the mood by concussing himself as he chokes on a whine. He's close, so close, and he clamps his hand over his mouth in a belated effort to smother his own whimpering cries of Mason's name and pleas to keep going as his hips jerk and he chases after the high right there right—!
The hand gripping his hip pins him to the wall effortlessly, stilling him as Mason smirks up at him and pulls just enough away to deny him. Because this is his second favorite game, arguably a cheat for the first one: edging Sai along the precipice of madness until he forgets to care about being caught in the first place.
Sai furrows his brow and scowls at his vampire, though he can only imagine how nonthreatening it must look, what with how his hair is half-falling from its knot and his face is flushed and his chest is heaving and his eyes are barely focusing. Mason certainly seems unbothered, smirking as he plucks Sai's hand from over his mouth to chivalrously replace it with his own mouth, swallowing down any complaints or groans he wished to share.
Sai feels both weak and energized, like he could slump to the floor beside the washing machine and also like he could rip off Mason's jeans and give him a taste of his own delicious medicine. He settles for leaning back against the wall and panting breathlessly, eyes closed in resignation of this sweet torture. Mason's chuckle rumbles into his own chest as close as they're pressed together, and he angles his head in hopeful anticipation of another kiss that he grants a moment later.
It's sloppy and too wet but they're both too lost in heated haze to mind, passing low groans back and forth as they lick into each other's mouths. The white-hot knot in his belly unwinds gradually, the string pulled taut in his spine going lax once more, and Mason can clearly tell as he shifts his focus and his attentions. Sai smiles at the sweet little kiss pressed to the corner of his mouth before Mason trails his lips down along his jaw, nipping playfully along his path to press his nose into the space behind the joint where Sai had learned the smell of his blood lingered strongest.
A content little hum blends into a soft moan as Mason's nuzzling kisses turn hungrier, a prick of fangs and flat press of tongue, tempting tasting teasing bites that always so carefully toe the line of something sharper. He does wonder what sort of prey response he exhibits, because it hardly makes sense the way his body goes loose and heavy when he feels sharp fangs at his carotid like this. The logical response would be panic and discomfort. Even the sexual response should be tension and arousal. But he merely goes limp, like a puppet with its strings cut, fully trusting the predator at his neck to hold him up while playing with his food.
He leaves one arm loosely wrapped around Mason's shoulders while the other slides down, his hand trailing down his lover's back until his thumb hooks into the waistband of his jeans, idly swiping back and forth against the tender skin at the base of his vampire's spine. He'd found by now that Mason really was very sensitive, that the gentlest touches wound him up the most, which suited his own tastes quite perfectly.
Mason's tongue presses to his pulse thumping too hard, and there's the gentlest scrape of four sharp points surrounding the touch. The swipe of wet heat against his skin has Sai moaning through a sigh, dropping his shoulder as he tilts his head, trying to expose as much surface area as he can under the suggestive onslaught. Soft lips press around fangs and there's pressure as he sucks, clearly intending to leave another bruise, proof of his presence and conquest.
Sai loves the way it makes him feel so wanted, knowing that he tests Mason's careful control, that he drives him so wild for his fangs to emerge; he loves the way he feels so absolutely safe, the way he knows the danger and yet knows even more that Mason would never ever hurt him. He's pretty sure Mason loves it, too. The way he's looked at him sometimes when Sai puts his life so readily into the vampire's hands, like he's confused but also desperately overwhelmed and awed. The fact that he bares his throat and offers his wrist and never once has flinched at the prick of a fang behind lips that so tenderly caress his flesh. The way Mason always favors kissing over the scars he carries, in a way he's never quite been able to decide if it's an apology or a promise, if it's grieving or possessively marking, but always leaves his knees weak and his heart full.
Somewhere between the wet heat of Mason's mouth at his chest and the realization his shirt has been unbuttoned and pushed off his shoulders to drape at his elbows, his heart lurches with his wandering thoughts. A memory of a conversation from a hospital bed, a reminder that his mutation and Murphy's experiment would make him so tempting to supernaturals, make him smell overwhelmingly enticing. The heat in him cools and the arm wrapped around his lover's shoulders goes lax, the thumb gently overstimulating his lower back stilling.
Is that all any of this is? Friendships assigned for everyone's protection, a vampire enticed by forbidden temptation, drawn like a moth to flame, always indulging in the gentlest most innocent way he can? Surely someone like Mason, so confident and independent and strong, wouldn't choose someone like him if not so lured and distracted. He thinks of—
Of nothing, briefly, as a smack to his ass makes him jump with a gasp, fingers curling into Mason's shirt tight as he's pulled out of his head and back into his body. "What have I told you, sweetheart?" Mason asks, the faintest scrape of fangs on the underside of his jaw complementing the rumbling growl that vibrates into his own chest.
Sai breathes a chastised laugh and shifts restlessly, very aware suddenly of how Mason's been busily re-stoking the tight knot of heat in his belly while he was distracted. "Think only of you?" he rasps, rocking his hips forward to test if Mason will allow it.
He does. He slips his hand up Sai's bared back, mindful of a healing bruise in a way that almost distracts Sai again because can he somehow feel it, like is the skin warmer or is there minor swelling his fingers can detect, or has he just memorized where every single ache is on his body that thoroughly, and what does it—
"Good boy," Mason absolutely purrs right before he bites (ever so mindfully) over the scar, right before he curls his hand back down Sai's spine with just the precise pressure and angle to have his back arching and a strangled moan grating out of his throat.
And it nearly works, too. It does, for a bit. How can Sai be worried about blood work when Mason kisses him breathless and then a little longer just to make sure his head is utterly empty? How could he possibly spare a single coherent thought when Mason puts a bit of space between them just long enough to pluck and slide and push open his jeans to slip his hand under the waistband of his briefs to grab his cock?
Mason's thumb swipes over him before he slides his grip down, always just the right pressure, the right speed, to have Sai thumping his head against the wall with a choked cry. The heat that had cooled to embers reignites eagerly and the thought flickers quickly through Sai's head that 'it was never this intense before'. Does Mason feel it, too? Probably not, someone as experienced as him.
He writhes between the wall and his vampire, the rising tension taut in his spine again making him feel restless, like he needs to move even though there's nowhere else he wants to be. Mason's hand is steadily stoking his lust, the up-swipe-twist-down making every ragged breath come harder than the last. His blood is roaring in his ears to drown out whatever other noise he might make as Mason presses a wet kiss on his chest, right over his hammering pulse. There's a drag of fangs on his skin, enough to make him squirm and buck his hips pleadingly, and he feels more than he hears the rumble of Mason's pleased groan, the hot wash of his breath on damp skin.
“Would you still be interested in me if I didn’t have this mutation?” It comes out wheezing and more pitiful than he'd intended. It coming out at all, actually, was unintended. But there it is, the insistent loathsome whisper at the base of his skull, the thought that the only reason Mason is here is some siren-song of his blood luring him.
“What.” When Sai lifts his head and blinks his eyes into focus, it's to see Mason staring up at him with a look he hasn't been on the receiving end of since their early days first working together. That look of bewildered annoyance, one that used to intimidate him but now he knows too well to be hurt by it: brows furrowed low, eyes narrowed, lip lifted on one side to currently expose a fang.
Sai stares at him in return. He's not sure what he's supposed to say next. He can't tell if that was a sincere request to repeat himself. He licks his lower lip. “Would— would you still be inter—“
“I heard you, sweetheart.“ His hand squeezes around his cock and slowly drags up its length. “We’re gonna have to work on your idea of dirty talk.”
Sai gasps and curls forward, hiding his face against Mason’s shoulder as a whimper catches on every ragged breath. God, if he had the lung capacity, he’d assure Mason his brain annoys him too, would insist he also wishes he wasn’t like this, brain snagged on one miserable thought even as he’s falling happily apart. A shudder crawls up his spine as Mason strokes him a little quicker, squeezing with the twist of his wrist in the way that always makes him desperate. He chokes out a low moan as his hips twitch pleadingly.
And yet.
“Mason,” he pleads breathlessly. His vampire growls in a way that makes him inappropriately excited, and he squirms helplessly in Mason’s hold. “Would you?”
Mason rumbles but his hand slows then stills, and he straightens as he gently nudges Sai back against the wall so he can look at him. His eyes dart over his face in that way Sai has come to know is more a vampiric study of evidence than anything else. Anyone else making this much eye contact with him would be overwhelming but somehow with Mason he always just feels— understood.
His cock gives one very confused throb.
“You’d still have a great ass and a pretty face,” Mason very sincerely decides, and Sai shakes with an almost-laugh of a breath that shudders out of him. ”So we good now, handsome?”
Sai considers through the loud static. “But would it have— would you have just been— just one and done with me, if I didn't smell so…?”
Mason’s studying him again, and Sai wonders if this is technically cheating on his end, the way he doesn’t have to actually say everything in order to still be heard. It’s comforting, knowing his partner can read every tiny detail of every muscle twitch or hormone shift or micro-expression.
“I don’t know,” he admits, brutally honest in the way Sai’s come to rely upon. ”What’s it matter? You do have your blood, and you do smell fucking fantastic, and we’re kind of in the middle of much more than one and nowhere near done,” Mason reminds him, giving a pointed squeeze and swipe of his thumb that makes Sai squeak and jerk full-body in response.
And he’s right, he should be right, but it’s sticking in his head prickly and unsettling and he wishes he could turn his brain off, could just enjoy what they have, what they’re doing, but it doesn’t work that way and he hates it too and—
“Would you still be into me if I wasn’t a vampire?” Mason interrupts his spiral.
Sai blinks his eyes and furrows his brow at his lover. They stare at each other in what should be awkward silence, but Sai just feels… incredibly seen, but not in a way that leaves him vulnerable or ashamed. He swallows thickly and wets his lips, giving the question the same honest consideration Mason gave his. “I think so.”
Mason smirks. “I know you're into my fangs,” he reminds him. “And you like how easily I can lift you. You also like how utterly transparent you are to me.“ His brow is arched in wry challenge.
“Y-yes, but—! But I— I like more than just that about you.” He swallows down the word that wanted to come out instead of like. He fights the urge to list every single thing he loves about Mason, like his protectiveness of the people he's chosen, and how patient he can be, and his acceptance of him even when he's being an anxious idiot, and how the safety he feels with him only has a little to do with his physical strength, and—
Mason's smirk widens into a smile like he knows anyway, and Sai feels a pressure on his chest lift at the sight. It's the smile that feels like it's just for him, and he loves that, too.
"We done with this pointless discussion then?" Mason asks, and his wrist rotates as he slides his hand lower to cup Sai's balls and rip a sharp gasp from his chest at the gentle motion of his fingers. "Because I was kind of in the middle of something here."
"Yes, sorry," Sai pants, feeling his face burn with the belated humiliating shame of realizing he just interrupted some of the best sex of his life to have an existential crisis. The turmoil doesn't last very long, though, as Mason's smile sharpens to that predatory smirk he favors most and he gracefully lowers to his knees before him.
It's still heady every time, having someone so commanding and so dominating choose to put his pleasure first, choose to take him apart piece by overwhelming piece. He slides his fingers into Mason's hair, gently massaging little circles into his scalp, and he wishes he could look away from the grey eyes that hold him captive as Mason leans in and licks a hot trail up his cock. He swallows down a whine as his attention catches on the long fangs on proud display, as they shrink into normal canines by the time soft lips press to the head of his pulsing arousal.
"Now what's the rule, sweetheart?" he asks, and his breath puffs warm-and-quickly-cooling against him in a way that has Sai squirming until Mason grips his hip and stills him.
Sai trails a hand from Mason's hair down to his cheek, and he suspects the touch may be too gentle and tender in such an explicit position, but he can't help himself. "Think only of you." His smile tinges with self-deprecation as he amends, "Think only of you and I, right here and now, and what you make me feel?"
Mason's grin is sharp, even with his fangs tucked away. "Good boy," he purrs in approval, and then swallows Sai down greedily.
Sai doesn't swallow down his hoarse, breathless moan that fills the space around them, and he doesn't even spare a thought for the game he was always destined to lose. All he thinks about is molten heat and grey eyes and the fuzzy, staticky certainty that they are both exactly where they want to be.
tagging my lovely lineup (and please remember you can always ask anytime to be add or removed): @fauville @blu-ewraith @agentnatesewell @thee-morrigan @mornynge @kurczakmarty @xx-toto-xx
for @wayhavenvalentines, day six: lover/stranger — the opening and closing chapters of a break-up/eventual make-up fic.
The Wayhaven Chronicles
Nate Sewell/Holland Townsend
rated M
Chapter 1: Stranger (excerpt):
It's too much. All of it. It's all just too fucking much.
She wishes she were one of those people, sometimes. Wishes that the way she wants him could eclipse every last doubt, every last fear, and she could just...let herself be happy. Be loved. Be his, for however long she could have him, as long as he was hers in turn.
But the fact remains: forever is a long damn time.
Chapter 9: Lover (excerpt):
"I was going to call," she begins, eyes scanning his face, her own expression a mixture of apprehension and wary relief, as though she isn't entirely sure whether he’s happy to see her. "I probably should have called. I mean, that probably would've been the more normal person thing to do, instead of just—"
All the words that he'd meant to say when he saw her again—careful, measured words, ones he'd spent months trying to shape into something she would be able to hear without feeling cornered or pressured—shatter at the sound of her voice, the familiar, rapid-fire cadence of it washing over him like a balm and a fever. He'd had so much to say.
All of that careful language evaporates like mist in the sun as he closes the last few inches of space between them and kisses her.
I decided to fill both prompts for @wayhavenvalentines Day 6: Lover/Stranger. It's safe to say that this fic got away from me and took a direction I hadn't expected.
Please mind the ratings for this fic and keep in mind that this fic does contain mentions of alcohol/drinking (though no characters actively drink on the page).
Pairing: Detective/Farah Hauville
Rating: E
Words: 1458
Andy and Farah meet as strangers in a bar in the Big City.
this takes place before day 3 "embrace" and a little after book 4 is over (stands for correction if book 4 canon is a bit different)
***
It's been days since we last talked. Days since Morgan dropped by my flat, "coincidentally" in the area, since she walked beside me and let me hold her hand, days since she even texted me back. I don't know what I did — if it was anything — but the others have been acting odd as well. Farah keeps tripping over her words, Nat looks somewhere between conflicted and smug, and Ava…okay I think Ava might be acting normal, if a bit more annoyed than usual.
Tina keeps trying to tell me it's alright, that she had a bit of a bad feeling about her anyway, but it hasn't been helping. Not when every time I look in the mirror, I can see the fading mark she left on my collarbone, feel the weight of the necklace heavy between my breasts, gifted with hesitation and purring.
Even patrols have been strange, intentionally sectioned so we aren't together. Perhaps it's Ava's way of showing me mercy, pairing me with Farah so I don't get uncomfortable.
The problem is that I still ache for her.
Something I don't realise goes both ways until she's at my door, flushed and frozen in the middle of pacing.
"Mor—" I don't get to say anything before her lips are on mine, hands desperately cupping my face, drinking me in like a thirsty woman given water. Morgan's tongue gently slides across where I bite my lip, soothing the still-fresh sting from my teeth.
A line wraps tight around my chest, tugging me closer, cutting deep into my lungs with each breath, each second that there's space between us. It leaves me so breathless that I have to push her away, hand planted firmly on the centre of her chest.
"God, you can't just…ghost me for days and then—"
"Be mine."
"…What?"
A storm rages behind Morgan's eyes, a furrow between her brows, growing deeper the longer she stares at me, standing in my doorframe. She seems to realise where we are, glancing around us before pushing past me into the flat, words clearly weighing heavy in her mouth.
Still, she doesn't speak until I close the door, cheeks darkened by a faint flush when she finally bursts out, "I want you. To be mine. My girlfriend, lover, whatever, just— I need this."
"What is this?"
"I don't…I don't know." She spits the admission like it's grown roots and embedded itself in her throat. Like it's strangling her to keep itself hidden. She looks away.
"But I want it. More."
My heart surges at the admission, at the words I've wanted to hear for months — maybe since Morgan even stepped into my office. I know I shouldn't be drawn in, shouldn't move like a moth to a flame, but God she just shines so bright.
Everything in me is screaming at me to say 'yes,' to hold her tight and never let her go. Reminding me of the nights I've held her through a nightmare, of the words she said at the auction, at the masquerade, when we were finally safe from Li-Sar. Reminding me of the taste of her lips and the smell of smoke in her hair.
But I can't listen. Not yet.
"Never ghost me like that again. Don't run from me, Morgan."
"…I won't."
"Promise me."
"…I promise."
"Then yes. God, yes. Just—"
She cuts me off with another long, aching kiss before I pull away again, desperate to get my final words in.
"Never do that again," I murmur against her lips, "please. And I am yours."
The words seem to set her off, a low growl rumbling in her chest that she holds, staring at me for a moment before diving back in, hands looping around my middle.
My last pre-written prompt for @wayhavenvalentines. Hoping I can pull something together at the workshop I'm doing tomorrow!
This is my only multi-chapter one, but it has been in my WIP folder forever, and it was so good to have a kick to finish it.
The door to Emmy’s room rattles in its frame from the force with which he closes it, but he cannot process that the way his heart is straining.
Adam does not see the hallway; rather, he still sees the way her eyes shined when she begged him not to kiss her. Don’t give me hope about us if there isn’t any.
He is proud of her for this. He knows that she sacrifices herself, her happiness, for others all the time. Better for him to be the one making the sacrifice — he must only ignore the tears that surely are falling now from her most lovely eyes. She is strong. She will be fine.
Even as he remains crumpled outside the door, he becomes aware of Nate’s presence, hurrying to the source of the sound of slamming door no doubt.
Concern etches his friend’s features. “Is…what happened?”
“I let her go,” he croaks.
Nate frowns. “Adam. I have tried to be gentle, but you are damaging two of the most precious people in my life with this. Think this through. Do you believe it will be better if she moves on?”
“Y—”
But before he responds, that very future seems to flash before his eyes.
Summary: In the midst of a roaring party, they find quiet in a space they make their own
Prompt: Embrace / Broken from @wayhavenvalentines prompt list !
Tags: fluff and more fluff, banter
Disclaimers: slightly suggestive dialogue? nothing explicit occurs though
Word count: 644
A/N: I've fallen behind on prompts but I still have plans for them and this came to mind when I thought of embrace (and I can't bring myself to write angst so all the fluff ever)
There was a gentle sway as they embraced, under soft lighting and to slow music, drawn away from the crowd and in each other's proximity.
The dance floor was full with an abundance of people, just short of bumping into each other, the only saving thing being their grace.
Cherise's hair was pinned up in curls, a simple style to show off the expanse of her neck and the cream jewels resting upon it. Draped in a gown of crimson that made the shade of her strands stand out even more.
Falk's in an ensemble of onyx, red accents complimenting him with ringlets of gold shining on his frame. His hair in intricate braids with some looser strands that cascaded over his shoulders.
They were probably a spectacle, the pair they made and the glamour they imposed.
However, no mind was paid towards this fact.
The imagery of running her fingers through his hair crossed her mind, ruining all the effort he had put into them.
That could be saved for later, though. She could spare him from this for a time.
"Your eyes are telling me what you're not," he murmured, right next to her ear.
A smile spread across her lips. "And what might that be?"
"How badly you wish to ruin my hair," he teased.
"Incredibly inconsiderate of you, I must say."
"Oh so you object?"
"I would never dream of it."
The back and forth banter never failed to fill her with glee, make her cheeks sore from the lasting smile stretched across her face.
"Not even at my strongest could I deny you a thing."
The promise sent a thrill through her, the exhilaration of romance a drug on it's own.
"You're welcome to brush it to your hearts content after," is yet another promise he makes.
Whether it was by her fingers or by bristles, it didn't seem he cared.
"You might come to regret that," she teased, a playful tone coloring her voice.
"All you threaten me with is a good time, meor'dal."
He knew such words would elicit a reaction, one he hoped for.
"You know I'm already going home with you, right?"
The immediate eye roll that coaxed from him made laughter fall from her lips.
"That doesn't deter me from seducing you all over again."
Her head shook softly, a smitten smile on her lips.
"You're ridiculous."
He leaned in and kissed her senseless, drowning out her surroundings and stealing away her breath.
There was no hesitation as she melted into him, eyes fluttering closed as all she could do was feel.
His arms around her frame, his lips on hers, his lack of breath.
No care in the world spared at the expense of the scene others might fall upon.
No thought was spared to who might catch them in such a precarious position, a kiss not deemed for the public but neither of them stopped long enough to consider such a thing.
Any spatial awareness had flooded away, leaving only longing.
Soon the mix of love and need for air mingled and made their heads spin, pulling apart briefly and shared laughter was all that could be heard.
His hands resting on her hips, her hands entangled in the lapels of his coat.
Cherise's eyes shined in silver adoration for him, while he stared back much the same in affection drenched gold.
"Let's go home."
"The party's not over yet," She protested, halfheartedly.
"I've seen enough to know where I'd rather be," Falk confessed, gently nosing her cheek.
And how could she deny him now?
No matter appearances, etiquette was usually thrown out the window and sacrificed for their heart's desires.
There hadn't been a time yet where he had chosen or even pretended to consider putting obligations ahead of her.
Her heart threatened to burst with what that meant to her.
Hi, managed to reblog a few submissions for the event but I'm still going through them, so continue to watch this space! Apologies that I can't comment on everything, there's simply too many creations for me to read every fic through even though I really, really wished to, I'm so sorry! Hopefully everyone else's reblogs and comments will make up for it! ❤️
Nat was her happiest when she was with Amelia. Detective was deviously smart and confident, definitely smarter than Nat whenever it came to any use of technology, and Mia was always so excited and willing to explain anything complicated in simple terms. She might’ve been a bit shy when it came to interacting with people, but it never stopped Mia from being kind to them, and that might’ve been the quality that attracted Nat the most in her. She could see the light in Mia’s green eyes that sparkled like emeralds and drew her in. Whenever they were together, there was only one desire on Nat’s mind – to be closer to Mia, to stay at her side, to keep listening to her melodic voice, and hope she would never stop speaking.
Nat was even happier since they got together, and she could officially call Mia hers. Whenever she thought about the fact that they were a couple, not just two people drawn together by a strengthening connection between them, Nat felt giddy and excited in the best way. When they were together, just the two of them, Nat was barely holding herself back from constantly touching Mia, caressing her, kissing her. She wanted more, a lot more, to make Mia feel the pleasure she wished to give, and that, unexpectedly, became a problem.
When it happened the first time, Nat thought that it was simply due to bad timing. They were outside, doing the research, until their lips found each other and their hands started to wander, creating the heat between them that was hard to deny. Nat felt the call of desire, hot and heavy, and she was sure that Mia felt it too, but when she dared to try for a more intimate touch, Mia simply froze in her arms. Nat retrieved instantly, turning the situation a little lighter with a joke, as Mia sat on the grass, with her heart pounding and her cheeks bright red. It wasn’t the right time and place, Nat thought to herself, she just needed to make sure next time it would be perfect.
But that perfect moment never came. It happened at least three more times, in different situations, until Nat was willing to give up on trying. Mia would reciprocate her kisses, the situation would become more heated, Mia would moan into her mouth and lean to her, but the moment Nat would attempt for more, Mia would freeze like a small frightened animal, making Nat drop everything instantly and create a space between them. She wished she knew what was happening in Mia’s head in those moments, but Amelia looked so out of her depth in these situations, Nat simply couldn’t bring herself to add even more pressure in this situation. And, as much as she wished it didn’t affect her, it did.
It was Valentine’s day and Nat was at the library, killing time until the hour of her date with Mia would arrive. She might’ve had an open book in her lap, but her eyes skimmed over the same page over and over, without her actually reading a single word. She kept thinking about her attempts at intimacy, wondering where everything was going wrong. If Mia had no desire to be close in this way, Nat would’ve had no problem with that, she would’ve stopped any attempts instantly, but Mia didn’t say anything when these awkward moments happened, and that was messing with her mind, making her doubt herself.
“When would you get rid of those smelly things?” Morgan stepped inside, looking sick. “They stank the whole house!”
Nat laughed, watching Morgan approach her. “Those smelly things are called flowers. Don’t worry, they’ll be gone in an hour or so. I’ve bought them for Mia.”
“She'd better thank you thoroughly, or all of my suffering is for nothing,” Morgan used her usual, crude tone, and Nat should’ve cut it short right away, but she spent so much time with her tangled thoughts about their situation, she simply wasn’t quick enough.
“Maybe you should suffer more,” she uttered, trying to return to her book, but it was hard not to notice Morgan dropping into a chair next to Nat’s with a curious look on her face.
“Oh, is there trouble in paradise?” she asked with a lazy smile on her lips, making Nat shift in her seat uncomfortably. “You know, you can always consult an expert.”
“With all due respect, you’re the last person I’d want to hear relationship advice from.”
“I didn’t offer relationship advice, plus the two of you together are so sickeningly sweet no one can look at you without falling into a sugar coma.” Morgan was getting more comfortable in her chair, clearly showing she had no intention of leaving or dropping the topic. “But I’d say I’m the best person to ask for sex advice, since that’s the thing you have trouble with.”
All Nat wanted at that moment was for the earth to crack open and swallow her whole, but since it wasn’t happening, she had to endure this conversation while feeling like flames were licking her cheeks. Asking Morgan for the advice could’ve been the single stupidest thing she’d ever do, but at the same time, what harm would it do? Other than Morgan teasing her about it until the end of her days, of course.
“It’s just…” Nat put the book down, trying to find a way to express their situation. “Every time I try, it feels like she wants it, or maybe I think she does, but if I actually try anything, she just stops reciprocating and, of course, I wouldn’t force her into doing it, so I just stop, and I don’t know why it keeps happening.”
Her words made little sense as she said them, fast and all at once, to not stop herself from letting it all out. Nat let out a frustrated sigh and looked up at Morgan, expecting to see a teasing grin, but instead, her expression was serious, compassionate even.
“Listen, I’m going to push you off the roof if anyone finds out I said it.” Morgan started with a threat. “But you need to talk to Mia. She loves her facts and logic,” those two words sounded like swears when Morgan said them. “So she probably already can lay it out for you in a nice, neat way. Maybe she’ll even have a spreadsheet ready for you. Printed, of course, since she knows you won’t be able to open an email attachment.”
Surprisingly, it sounded like a sound and reasonable approach, something Nat didn’t expect from Morgan, but she was grateful to hear those words.
“Thank you for the advice,” Nat said, feeling more relaxed. “Who would’ve thought you could be so insightful when it came to other people?”
“Quiet!” Morgan hissed. “If anyone will find out about that, I’ll let everyone know you aren’t getting any.”
Nat laughed, grateful for this conversation. As much as she didn’t want to put Mia on the spot, they had to approach the topic somehow, so Nat could know how to act. She wanted to make Mia happy, and it was only right for her to find out how to make that happen.
Nat would’ve loved to invite Mia to a lavish place for their Valentine’s date, but Mia didn’t enjoy crowded spaces, so they agreed to have dinner at her apartment instead. That was also a more appropriate place for the conversation Nat wanted to have with Mia, so it felt like everything was working to her advantage.
When Mia opened the door, Nat instantly lost all her charm. Mia wore glasses, something she only did when in the comfort of her apartment, a detail which Nat found incredibly cute. Her long, curly hair, dyed a dark cherry color, was falling freely over her bare shoulders. The dress Mia wore was deep emerald, complementing the color of her eyes, and very much complementing every pleasantly round curve she had.
“Hi,” Mia said, shyness in her tone. She rarely dressed up, and Nat knew that she had to say something to make Mia feel less insecure about it.
“You look incredible,” she let out in one breath, a wide grin appearing on her face. “I can’t believe I have you all to myself tonight.”
Mia’s cheeks turned pink, making Nat want to run her fingers over the soft skin.
“I can say the same. I feel very lucky tonight,” Mia said, looking over Nat. “Oh, come in. I didn’t plan to keep you at the door for so long.”
With a laugh, they moved inside, into the comfort of Mia’s living room.
“These are for you,” Nat said, giving Mia flowers and a card. “I know you said you didn’t want to exchange gifts, but I couldn’t come with empty hands.”
“You remembered,” Mia said, her voice thick with emotion, as she accepted pale pink calla lilies from her hands. “These are my favorites.”
“I know,” Nat was happy to know her memory didn’t fail her. “I might’ve given the florist a hard time to make sure the ribbon matched the flowers.”
“You know I love your attention to detail,” Mia went on to put the flowers into a simple glass vase she had, before she opened the envelope with the card. The moment she looked at the picture and read the words on it, she laughed so loudly that her shoulders started to shake. “Really, Nat? ‘Our love grows daily, like bacteria’?”
“I thought you’d appreciate a biology pun!” she said in her defense, but it didn’t seem Mia was unhappy with it.
“I love it, really,” Mia walked to Nat and stood on her tiptoes, leaning toward the taller woman. Nat had to lean down so their lips could meet, making her feel pleasantly warm inside. They always met halfway, and it felt like a perfect allegory of their relationships.
Their lips moved in perfect harmony, the softness of the moment growing as they shared gentle touches. When Mia pulled away, her eyes were shining, even if her glasses looked slightly foggy.
“Thank you, Natalie,” she said, intensity in her tone. “No one ever did something like this for me.”
“I’m honored to be the first,” she brushed a strand of hair off Mia’s cheek, smiling at the look of love in the eyes of her beloved.
“I made dinner. I wasn’t sure if you’d want to eat with me, but I made sure flavors aren’t too intense.”
Mia was an excellent cook, and with such a thoughtful offer, how could Nat deny the it? Mia decorated the kitchen table with candles and heart confetti, and she looked so proud of herself. Nat simply couldn’t stop herself from pulling her closer and kissing her once again. Their conversation was slow and comfortable as they shared shrimp pasta and brownies with heart-shaped sprinkles on them. Nat wanted to enjoy it fully, but the conversation she wanted to have with Mia was in the back of her mind, not allowing her to fully soak in the atmosphere of the evening.
“Didn’t you say it’s going to be a romantic movie?” Nat asked, once they got comfortable on the couch, and Mia turned on the TV to reveal a movie poster. By the amount of blood on the woman’s white dress, it became abundantly clear that it wasn’t, in fact, a romance. But did she truly expect anything else, considering Mia’s wide collection of horror movies?
“There is a wedding at the start!” Mia stated her point. “That’s romantic enough for me.”
“I just hope you don’t expect our love life to match it,” Nat smiled, getting closer to Mia, until her arm was around Mia’s shoulders and she could pull her closer.
“Of course, not,” Mia said, getting comfortable and resting her head against Nat’s chest. “I would never want to see your head explode.”
Nat sighed, but relaxed into the cuddle. She was willing to endure far worse to be with Mia.
There was a calm, comfortable silence between them as Mia looked at the screen and Nat mostly looked at her. She felt the itch to start a conversation that had been on her mind for a long time, and she couldn’t imagine she would endure much more of the wait. The perfect moment for it could’ve never came and it only meant that she had to just let it out.
“Can I ask something?” she said, gently running her fingers over Mia’s bare arm, but it seemed that the intensity in her tone caught her girlfriend’s attention. Mia paused the movie and pulled away so she could look at Nat’s face.
“Of course. What is it?” she thought that she was ready to hear what Nat had to say, but that could change in an instant.
“I want you to know that I’m not trying to pressure you, I just want to know how to proceed to make you feel more comfortable when you’re around me,” Nat started, laying out her intention.
“Now you’re scaring me,” Mia’s laugh was a bit tense.
“I don’t want to, I really don’t,” Nat tried to calm her own nerves before she asked. “Do you ever want to be intimate with me? And it’s fully fine if you don’t, it won’t change anything between us. I only want to know so I won’t make you uncomfortable in the future.”
Mia let out a deep sigh, her body tensing. She put her arms around her body, trying to find some comfort, and Nat felt guilty for causing such distress. She didn’t know what answer to expect, but it wasn’t the one she got.
“You have no idea how badly I want it,” Mia finally met her eyes again. Nat should’ve felt happy hearing this confession, but Mia didn’t look relieved at all. “It’s just… well, it’s going to be a long and embarrassing story, are you sure you want to hear it?”
“I want to hear about everything when it comes to you,” Nat put her hand close enough to Mia’s body to give her a choice to hold it, and, to her relief, Mia did it, their fingers intertwining. “There’s nothing you can say to make me love you less.”
“I really hope so,” Mia let out a laugh. She looked in Nat’s direction, but didn’t meet her eyes. “So, you know about Bobby, my ex? Well, she’s my one and only ex. The only person I ever had sex with. I mean, it’s a tiny town, and before you arrived, I only knew two women who are attracted to women, and one of them is Tina! So, I guess, without many options, I allowed Bobby to treat me… not in the kindest way. She wasn’t afraid to be demanding, selfish, or rude when I did something she didn’t enjoy, and maybe she was right to say those things. What if I can’t make you feel the way I want you to feel? What if I’m so terrible you wouldn’t want me again? Or what if I try so hard, achieve nothing, and feel worthless in the end?”
There was so much pain and insecurity in her words that it made Nat want to pull Mia closer into her embrace, but she knew that she needed space. Her second impulse was to chase down the damned reporter and make sure she’ll never show her face anywhere near Wayhaven again. But it could wait for later, Nat had to take care of Mia first.
“Those things you experienced sound horrible,” she shook her head, slowly pulling Mia closer. “But there’s nothing you can do to disappoint me. Even if you are as terrible as you say, which I doubt, there’s nothing wrong with learning. You, out of all people, should know it. What’s important is that we hear each other and give our best to reach the result we both want. We will take as much time as needed to get there.”
Mia’s shoulders didn’t look as tense as before, and she leaned into Nat’s embrace. It gave her hope that, maybe, her words were coming out right.
“And if nothing else, I can promise you one thing,” she said, those words with her lips brushing against Mia’s neck. “I will never be selfish with you.”
Mia’s heart was beating faster when she looked up at Nat. There was heat and hope in her gaze, and the only thing Nat wanted was to replace those bitter memories with something sweeter.
“Maybe, we should move to the bedroom,” Mia said, her voice slightly shaking.
“We should, but only if you want it,” Nat wanted to confirm again before she would fully abandon her restraints.
“I want it very, very, very much,” Mia stated, standing up from the couch, and Nat finally realized that the reason for her voice shaking was desire.
“Three ‘very’ sounds very convincing,” she let out a laugh when she took Mia’s hand.
The first thing Mia did when they stepped into her bedroom, with an antique four-post bed in the middle of it, which was taking almost all the space, was to take off her glasses and leave them on the bedside table.
“I know it sounds stupid, but I want you so badly I can barely think,” Mia let out with a single breath.
“Please, don’t say things like that,” Nat shook her head, cupping Mia’s face with both of her hands. “It’s not stupid. I want to hear everything that’s on your mind. I want you to not overthink it. I’m here to make you happy, and this will hopefully make both of us ecstatic.”
“Oh, heavens,” Mia shook her head. “Keep saying things like these, and I might finish from the sound of your voice alone.”
“I wouldn’t want that,” Nat adopted a more sultry tone, finally allowing herself to indulge in a deeper kiss.
It felt as if she was finally free. She didn’t have to anticipate the moment when Mia would pull away, think about what she was doing wrong. Her hands could freely move over the curves of Mia’s hips while Nat’s tongue was exploring her hot mouth. The intensity of the heat between them was already starting to drive her mad, but she was holding back, pacing herself for Mia.
Slowly, she put her hand against the side of Mia’s dress, finding a zipper. Nat moved her fingers around it, asking for silent permission, but Mia broke their kiss, making her worried.
“Sorry, it’s not me stopping this,” Mia let out breathy. “But it would help me to feel more comfortable if you could, you know, undress first.”
“This won’t be a hardship for me,” Nat grinned, willing to do anything to help Mia feel less stressed. “Do you want to help me, or would you prefer to watch?”
Mia’s mouth went slightly open, amusing Nat. She swallowed hard before taking a step closer.
“I’ll help. Oh, I love helping you,” she nodded enthusiastically, while undoing the buttons of Nat’s blouse, but not tugging it off yet. Mia’s hands were steady, but her eyes were very much fixed on Nat’s skin as more of it was baring in front of her. Finally, when all of the buttons were undone, Mia moved her hands underneath the fabric, pushing it off Nat’s shoulders and allowing it to fall on the floor. “Of course you’d be wearing lace, I don’t know what else I expected.”
“Is it not up to your liking?” Nat asked, lifting her brows with a grin on her face. The cream-colored lace was very much see-through as it sat over the swell of her breasts, and it wasn’t hard to notice the way Mia looked at it.
“Oh, I like it very much, and I’d love it to be off you, but I can enjoy the view for now.”
Nat received compliments thousands of times, but it still couldn’t compare to the fluttering sensation she experienced when Mia was the one looking at her with such desire and adoration. It didn’t take Mia long to get rid of Nat’s tailored pants and admire the view of her fully.
“That’s just unfair, you know?” Mia sighed, moving a hand in front of her, as if circle whole Nat. “No one can be this beautiful.”
“Then I can only be grateful I can match your beauty,” Nat stepped closer to Mia, giving her a gentle kiss. “Can I undress you now? I can’t wait to see you.”
“Yes,” Mia let out. “But don’t expect any lace from me.”
“Why would it matter?” Nat’s lips fell to Mia’s jaw, then down to the soft skin on her neck. She pulled at the zipper slowly, giving Mia a chance to change her mind if she wished. “Your underwear will be off so quickly, I will barely be able to take a look.”
Mia shuddered against her, and this reaction told Nat everything she needed to know. She unzipped the dress and tugged on the fabric, allowing it to fall on the floor around Mia’s feet. Nat wasn’t joking. The moment she could feel Mia’s warm, soft, bare skin against hers, the world around them stopped to matter. Unable to hold back any longer, Nat kissed Mia greedily, enjoying her taste, enjoying the feeling of her wet tongue sliding against hers. She leaned down to grab the back of Mia’s soft thighs and yanked her up. Mia let out a small whimper into her mouth, but followed the flow of their bodies and wrapped her legs around Nat’s middle the way she intended.
Nat carried Mia to the bed, loving the way both Amelia’s arms and legs were wrapped around her. Familiar desire, still heavy and hot, was ignited inside her, but it was the last thing Nat thought about. She couldn’t be happy until she knew that Mia was satisfied.
Carefully, she dropped both of them onto the bed, hoping that Mia enjoyed the feeling of Nat’s weight on top of her. Nat’s mouth moved to Mia’s neck again, but this time she went lower, kissing her collarbones, the middle of her chest, the swell of her breasts that was spilling out of her cotton black bra.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to take much of this,” Mia let out, licking her lips, her body tense under Nat’s touches. “I’m so wet already.”
“Are you?” she asked with a light laugh. Nat’s hand moved between their bodies, over Mia’s stomach and lower. “I should check if it’s true.”
Her fingers skimmed over the edge of Mia’s panties only for a short moment before Nat dipped her hand under the fabric to find welcoming wet heat underneath. Mia let out a desperate moan, her hips pushing up slightly, into Nat’s touch. Mia was so willing, so ready for her, it was simply impossible for Nat to feel anything but burning desire to give Mia everything she deserved and more. Nat wanted to absolutely ruin her with pleasure, and even then, she would still be kissing moans out of Mia’s mouth, trying to give her more.
“Tell me if it doesn’t feel right,” Nat asked earnestly, looking at Mia’s face. Her eyes were wide open, her lips parted, her sensations focused on where Nat was touching her.
“It feels heavenly,” Mia said, her hands resting on Nat’s shoulders, as if she was trying to find a way to ground herself. “Please, keep touching me.”
That was all Nat needed to know she could continue. Her wild fantasies finally had a chance to turn into reality, and she wasn’t going to miss this opportunity.
She pulled down a cup of Mia’s bra, and her lips instantly closed around the hardness of her nipple, making Mia let out more of those wonderful sounds that showed just how little she restrained herself. Nat moved her fingers slowly and teasingly against Mia’s wetness, rubbing her clit and making Mia moan out even louder. Nat slipped her fingers lower, pushing two of them into a tight hotness of Mia’s pussy. The cry she heard when it happened felt almost unreal in its intensity, and Nat’s own body responded to it, reminding her about her own arousal with a strong pulse she felt between her legs.
“You are so gorgeous,” Nat whispered, hoping that Mia could still hear her through the haze of pleasure. She could feel just how tight Mia’s walls were around her fingers, how sharply she reacted to every touch. It was good to know that she wasn’t the only one pent up and frustrated all this time. “I can look at you forever and never get tired of the sight.”
“How are you this smooth even now?” Mia let out a small laugh, which quickly turned into a loud moan, when Nat used her thumb to tease her clit while continuing to finger Mia.
“Should I have stopped giving you compliments simply because I’m inside of you?” Nat asked, feeling Mia’s reaction more than seeing it. She quivered around Nat’s fingers, clearly enjoying what was being said. “Should I stop appreciating your beauty just because I know how beautiful you can be while gasping for air and begging with your body to give you the release you need?”
“Oh, Nat!” Mia’s back arched, her eyes went shut, whimpers falling off her lips as she experienced the pleasure Nat was so willing to give her. Mia was shuddering under Nat, while she still helped her ride through her first orgasm of the night. In the end, Mia was left fully relaxed and soft under Nat, who gently kissed her face, feeling her love for Mia grow even stronger.
“That was embarrassing,” Mia let out, once she caught her breath, making Nat frown. “I mean, it never happened so fast for me.”
“I’m going to take it as a compliment,” Nat almost purred it against Mia’s lips, kissing her over and over, until she got her fill. “Do you think I can get rid of this so I can give you the attention you need?”
She played with the strap of Mia’s bra as she said it, and as soon as she saw a nod, she quickly helped Mia to get rid of both her bra and panties, to finally be able to enjoy the sight of her lover’s fully nude body.
“I know I said it already,” Nat’s words were interrupted by the kisses, a hot trail she was leaving down Mia’s body on her way between Mia’s legs. “But I can’t stop admiring you. I imagined the way you looked naked countless times, and it still can’t compare to reality.”
Her lips already made their way down to Mia’s thighs, and Nat was kissing the gentle skin on the inside of them, while feeling Mia shudder each time her lips brushed against a sensitive spot.
“Are you admitting to touching yourself while you thought about me?” Mia said those words with sarcasm, as if she couldn’t imagine it happening. Nat looked up to meet her eyes.
“Yes, I did,” Nat said with whole honesty, making Mia’s eyes go a little wider.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” she shook her head, dark cherry curls falling over the pillow like a halo around her head.
“The only way I plan to kill you is with pleasure,” Nat promised, her breath hitting Mia right between her legs, making her whimper. “We can repeat this over and over and over again until I succeed.”
She wrapped her arms around Mia’s spread thighs, keeping her pressed against the mattress. The look on Mia’s face, so open and trusting, was making Nat think about just how many wonderful things she could do to Mia, how many sounds she could pull out of her throat, but she had to pace herself. She didn’t want to make her lover overwhelmed far too soon.
“You can start with your first attempt,” Mia said, shifting on the bed, and it made Nat incredibly happy to see that she was growing more comfortable with intimacy.
“Gladly,” Nat smiled, looking up at Mia one last time before she dedicated all of her attention to making sure she’d hear her name cried out in pleasure again.
Mia was wet and silky smooth under her tongue, sensitive to every touch Nat gave her, and each time she heard a moan or Mia tensing up in her arms, she only applied more pressure, giving her more reasons to feel the heights of her pleasure. There were no thoughts, only instincts that led Nat to try new things to check for Mia’s reaction just so she could repeat them over and over, leaving Mia exhausted and needing her even more.
Nat loved to be in this position, to feel Mia’s taste filling her mouth, to circle the hard nub of her clit countless times as she heard moans and cries. Every sound Mia’s body made only left Nat more aroused and with a deeper desire to please her lover. Mia needed it, and Nat was so happy to provide.
“Nat,” Mia was whimpering again, her hand resting on the top of Nat’s head. “P-please.”
Her soft begging was exactly the right motivation for Nat to work harder for Mia’s pleasure. The moans, the cries, only made her lap faster at Mia’s pussy, until the woman underneath her didn’t turn into a gasping, shaking mess, and Nat pulled her head up to enjoy the view she worked so hard for.
“I…” Mia swallowed hard, gathering her thoughts. “I don’t think I ever felt this way before.”
Her words put a smile on Nat’s face, which was so wide she didn’t think anything would be able to wipe it off.
“I’m so glad I made you happy,” she said, moving up Mia’s body, kissing her deeply, to share her taste. It felt so comfortable and so right to press against each other, to share kisses and touches, to bask in the afterglow. Nat didn’t know how much she needed it until she finally had it. And it definitely didn’t hurt to feel Mia’s hands running over her sides, touching her back, kissing her shoulders.
“I… want to do something for you too,” Mia said, her tone slightly hesitant.
“You don’t have to,” Nat said firmly, looking into her eyes. “I’m happy to give, you don’t owe me anything for it.”
As much as Nat wanted to feel Mia’s touch, she didn’t want her to feel pressured into it.
“I know I don’t, but I want to do it,” this time, Mia sounded more certain. “I want to taste you.”
The heat in her body that Nat was able to ignore for so long came back even stronger. The tight pull between her legs became impossible to ignore, and why would she, if Mia was willing to give Nat what she desired?
“If you’re sure,” Nat kissed the corner of Mia’s mouth, confirming again. A smile spread over her lips. “Tell me how you want me.”
Mia flashed her a surprisingly wicked smile, her eyes darkening with something new.
“Well, I feel very comfortable like this, so…” she pulled at Nat’s hips, making her straddle Mia’s middle. “How about you sit on my face?”
Maybe there was a way to make Nat speechless, and Mia was able to achieve exactly that. Her mouth opened, just to close again, causing a burst of laughter from Mia.
“Come on, I’m not offering twice.”
“So much for being insecure about your abilities,” Nat shook her head, getting off the bed only so she could get rid of her underwear.
“It’s your fault,” Mia answered. “You made me believe it can be better than what I experienced in the past.”
“I’m happy to be of service,” Nat smiled, feeling a slight tremble inside.
Once back on the bed, Nat carefully placed her knees on either side of Mia’s head and looked down into her eyes.
“Are you sure?” she asked again, having no desire to ruin a perfect night they shared.
Mia groaned in frustration, hot breath hitting right against Nat’s core, before she was pulled down by Mia’s hands and kept there, with her pussy firmly pressed against Mia’s mouth.
The world stopped existing, any thoughts left Nat’s mind, and she was pretty sure she forgot any words in any language, because all of her sensations were focused between her legs, against the hot wetness of Mia’s tongue. She didn’t know how it could have ever been not good enough, because she felt like she was bursting from the inside the moment the tip of Mia’s tongue ran against her clit.
Nat moaned, grabbing the headboard to keep her balance, feeling the power of Mia’s desire for her with every lap of her tongue, every kiss against her core. With how long she earned for it, how long she waited to touch and to be touched, it didn’t take Mia any time to make her gasp and cry out for more.
“You’re amazing,” Nat shuddered, feeling Mia caress her thighs, while she kept eating her out. “Your mouth feels so good.”
Her eyes were shut tightly when Nat felt a jolt of pleasure inside her, stronger than anything she felt before, spreading through her body with warmth and somehow awakening an even deeper desire. The feeling of Mia’s tongue against her became almost overstimulating, and Nat moved away to see her lover’s face, covered in her wetness, messy and beautiful.
“You have no idea just how good it was,” Nat shook her head, lying next to Mia, her body still trembling.
“I could tell,” Mia said teasingly, kissing Nat’s shoulder and pulling her closer into a cuddle. “I love how loud you are.”
Nat let out a laugh, feeling so unbelievably happy and light, as if nothing bad could ever happen again.
As they cuddled in bed, relaxed and satisfied, Nat could only imagine how insufferable Morgan would be the next morning, when she would find out that Nat took her advice and it worked.
