Moody Ricky

Pedge the Therapist

Hey folks! Pedge and I have been enjoying some of our @pedroscouts summer activities. He wanted me to take a moment to remind you of some important self-help concepts! There are so many challenges you might encounter even when you find yourself on your summer vacation! Don't forget to chillax a little, grab a drink and remind yourself of what you are grateful for!

I confess today I found myself stuck in my cabin almost all day long! I wasn't really feeling much in the mood for a hike. But Pedge reminded me that tomorrow is a new day and going out for a brisk walk can help to set your mood a-right!

Taking some special time to chat with your friends during those stressful moments or making new friends with your fellow camp mates might make a big difference! You are so friendly and valuable! Everyone enjoys your presence.

Or maybe it's a good moment to get yourself a little treat! You've been working very hard and you deserve a special reward! Scout cookies may not be in your cabin, but some yummy vegetables or a summer sweet might hit the spot!

In short, don't forget to enjoy all of your summer camp activities and don't forget to be good to yourself and be good to others! By golly Pedge is thankful you're alive!

Now gather around the fire for some sexy stories before night night and tuck yourself into bed! You've got a big day ahead of you and the world is yours to conquer! Thanks @pedroscouts for inspiring us this summer!

@goodwithcheese

Men I think it’s important that you know that more than just your dick is sexy. Your HANDS. Your ARMS. Your BELLIES. Your THIGHS. Your SHOULDERS.

In Cold Blood; The Funeral

Grab a Latte! lounge around in the foyer with this sweet fic "Fall Coffee House" @alwritey-aphrodite before heading into the Bookshop!

Triggers: profanity, murder, smoking, references to alcohol, small abrasion, major spoilers for "In Cold Blood" by Truman Capote, based on historical events, 1950's cultural misogyny, references past problematic relationship, burgeoning workplace romance, funeral...

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Words: 5k

“Hey, doll. You wanna open those pretty eyes for me, let me know you’re still with us?” Rockford’s voice seemed to float in on a cloud of contentment. You snuggled further into the leather seat which had somehow softened against your drowsiness. You felt a whisper of his hand against your chin, cupping your cheek. “Time for sleeping beauty to wake up…” you couldn’t tell if you were dreaming or hallucinating, but your eyelids fluttered precariously trying to discern. “Time for our adventure to start, Red…” his voice gained solidity as a shot of adrenaline coursed through your system, jolting your eyes wide awake.

“I’m up!” you nearly shouted, as Rockford’s hand shot quickly to your forehead to prevent you from hitting the top of the car ceiling abruptly. 

“Owwww….” you moaned, closing your eyes once again and covering your face with your hands sleepily. “Are we there yet?” you grumbled, squinting through one eye at Rockford’s bemused and adorably bedraggled countenance.

“We have arrived” Rockford confirmed, tilting his head sideways against the headrest and relaxing slightly. “Welcome to Holcomb, Kansas…” you noticed a lazy diner called ‘Hartman’s Cafe’ before you, and the car seemed quite cool to the touch as you reasoned you had been parked for some time in arrival. 

“Did you drive all through the night?” you rhetorically asked, smoothing out your a-line skirt of travel wrinkles and looking in the overhead mirror to check your faded makeup.

Rockford nodded tiredly, scratching at the newly appearing scruff on his chin. “Wanted to get here as soon as possible, I don’t know when the FBI muckety mucks are going to show up. Might be here already” he wondered, clearing his throat of the morning huskiness and blinking steadily in the burgeoning dawn.

“Well, I don’t know much about being a travel secretary, but I think coffee is in order” you reckoned, delicately rubbing the sleep from your eyes and gesturing to the diner. “Thanks for letting me sleep, are you going to be okay for the day?” you wondered taking in the darkening circles under his eyes, and resisting the urge to finger his tousled hair.

“Nothing a little whiskey can’t cure” Rockford joked, catching your incredulous reaction. “Let’s grab a quick breakfast and we can locate the town sheriff afterwards. Last thing we need is to be fighting the long arm of the law before we’ve even begun…” he huffed, cranking the door open noisily and then tiredly stretching into the morning air.

“You’ve got the right mid-western mindset” you encouraged, rubbing at your lower back and emerging from the car, trotting behind him. “You’ll get more flies with honey, that’s for sure” you observed, hugging your purse to your side and casting a downward glance to your healing abrasion. Other than a few bumps and bruises, the near 20 hour drive to Kansas had transversed relatively quickly, and you were already starting to enjoy the newfound professional relationship with Rockford. You were keen to prove your secretarial prowess, despite the fact that you both felt a bit out of your league. It was one of the things that immediately bonded you to Rockford’s persona, was his dogged determination to pursue justice and excellence even in seemingly insurmountable odds. You hoped you could provide whatever support he might need, but you didn’t have the first clue about how to start the investigation. Maybe your midwestern upbringing could cushion Rockford’s fall from L.A’s bustling and cosmopolitan landscape. The familiar ring of a doorbell chime greeted your ears, as the wafting fragrances of coffee, pancakes and sausages tickled your nose. Your stomach grumbled in happy response. Rockford pressed a hand to your lower back, leading you towards the counter and smiling graciously at the waitress.

“Room for two?” he attempted to enchant, though the waitress was apparently having none of it.

“Not from around here, are ya?” she adroitly observed, a tight lipped smile painting her face as she smacked her lips sullenly against the trampled gum she was chewing.

“No ma’am, guilty as charged” Rockford poured on the charm, as much as possible, though the two of you were a bit of a sight after your lengthy travels. “Name’s Rockford, Tim Rockford P.I and this is my associate, Red. We’ll be gracing your homey town for the next couple weeks. Sorry to hear about your recent troubles and all…”. You nodded sympathetically, looking around the relatively empty diner in the early morning light. Rockford’s demeanor took on a honeyed quality as you quietly admired his attempts. You guessed one didn’t arrive at much professional investigatory success without a clear understanding of sweet talking and intimidation. You off-handedly wondered about the latter.

“Take your pick” the waitress seemed to complain, thrusting two menus into your hands and heading back towards the coffee behind her. “Looks like you could use the whole pot this morning…” she drolly noticed, avoiding your beleaguered expressions as you plopped down with fatigue and humility. Not the most auspicious beginning, but valiant nonetheless. Your eyes hungrily took in the options of the morning as Tim shook his head trying to clear the morning cobwebs from his mind. He’d have to be on his best behavior if he wanted to pry any secrets from a town like Holcomb, Kansas. He almost felt the iron-like bars of a social prison start to tighten around him as your eyes widened with recognition.

“Don’t look now, chief, but I think we’ve just had our first home town miracle” you whispered, as Rockford squinted at you skeptically. The doorbell rang once again to the sound of boots and leather chaffing against one another as Rockford looked out the diner window.

Holcomb County Sheriff’s Department. Bingo.

“Our first break” Rockford shushed, staring fixedly at the menu. “Go ahead Red, stick your leg out like they do in that movie with Clark Gable…”.

“I hardly think Clark Gable would be such a cad” you joked. “Besides which, my legs are all banged up from my clumsy secretarial pursuits on the highway earlier…” you scoffed. “That’s not what you’re expecting for my professional contributions, I hope?” you chuckled, attempting to focus on the menu in front of you.

“Absolutely not” Rockford chimed in. “It just happens to be a nice perk, from where I’m sittin’” he admitted, clearing his throat amusedly. It wasn’t but a minute the waitress appeared from behind the counter with a fresh pot of coffee and a disdainful look as a side order, as the sheriff skeptically surveyed you both from a stone’s throw away. First chatting with the sheriff conspiratorially, she eventually made her way to your table, somewhat begrudgingly…

“What’ll ya have?” she pointedly asked, pulling the pencil from behind her ear and smacking her lips loudly in accompaniment.

“I would like the Grand Slam, ma’am…” Rockford awkwardly rhymed, trying to remain aloof amidst the opportunity and gesturing to you next.

“I would like the oatmeal with toast on the side. And the possibility of speaking with that gentleman at the bar” you bluntly stated, watching Rockford’s eyebrows shoot sky high at the straightforward request. A flash of recognition and hidden admiration passed across the waitress’ face as she yelled over her shoulder, “EARL, your reputation has preceded you and your presence is requested forthwith…” she smirked, tucking the pencil behind her ear and pocketing the small writing pad.

“Huh?” the sheriff grunted, casting a not so imposing figure before hurrying over to your table quickly.

“Leave the coffee, will ya doll?’ Rockford questioned, as the waitress’ countenance immediately bittered. 

“Just don’t forget my tip, Mack” she retorted, soon replaced by the sheriff who was breathing raggedly with a quick jaunt.

“How can I be of service, ma’am?” the sheriff asked, attempting to size up Rockford who sat inquisitively across from you.

“Thank youuuu for your quick attention” you coo’ed, laying it on a little thickly, but desirous to make a good first impression. “We are obviously from out of town and looking to provide services of our own” you indicated to Tim to proceed.

“I’ve been hired to investigate the Clutter Family Murder. Rockford’s the name. Tim Rockford, P.I” he outstretched his hand in a friendly decisive manner, hopeful the sheriff might prove forthcoming, rather than combative. Sheriff Earl Robinson noticeably relaxed, and took Rockford’s grip firmly in his own.

“Pleased to meet ya, Mr. Rockford” he sighed, glancing back at the waitress who was overtly eavesdropping before making a quick exit to the kitchen. “Thought you might be one of them FBI agents that are en route as we speak. Don’t mind tellin’ ya we are all a bit out of sorts…what with the murders and all…” he trailed off as his features darkened. Rockford nodded grimly, moving aside so the sheriff could sit down at the table with you. “Most criminal acts are reduced to the production of moonshine in these parts. That, or the occasional harvest festival gone higgledy-piggledy” he admitted with humility, shifting the gun holster at his waist. “Haven’t seen a bona fide murder since my time in Kansas City, to say nothing of FOUR!” he lowered his voice with the confession, shaking his head dejectedly. “Don’t mind tellin’ ya I was glad when they took up that offerin’ at the charity event. The least we could do for the Clutter Family. They were the best of us…” he nodded, a small emotive crack in his voice appearing on the edges. You teared up in response. Gosh, you forgot the pleasantries of mid-western life after all. You immediately felt a bit reprimanded, shifting your adventurous enthusiasm to one of solemnity and mourning. Four people had lost their lives, and in a particularly violent and seemingly arbitrary way. You wanted justice as much as anyone in Holcomb did.

“We’re real sorry for your loss” Rockford observed, similarly moved. He’d seen plenty of crime on the seedy streets of L.A, but there was something about this atrocity that seemed especially personal. He wanted to proceed with sensitivity, and was again thankful for your delicate presence, particularly where his own intuition might be lacking. “I assume you were able to catalogue the scene of the crime…” he pressed, watching the sheriff shift with discomfort.

“Damndest thing” Sheriff Robinson finally removed his hat, wiping at his brow with turmoil. “Still trying to work my way around it…Sorry the girls had to see such a nightmarish sight…” he muttered absentmindedly, grabbing Rockford’s coffee cup and downing it in one swig. Rockford pouted with frustration, but silently refrained. “What girls are those?” he inquired, gently taking the cup back and sliding it away from the sheriff’s grasp.

“That’d be Nancy and Susan” he offered. “Sorry, Nancy Ewalt and Susan Kidwell. No one should have to see…somethin’ like that” he sighed, now reaching for your coffee cup and downing it in one swallow. Poor guy. You took his hand lightly in your own, curious to proceed.

“Can you tell us anything about the scene of the crime?” you softly asked, looking to Rockford for guidance. You didn’t want to move too far too fast, but the opportunity seemed to have dropped in your laps. The sheriff stiffened at the memory, his eyes casting downward with a sort of shame. “Don’t rightly want to burden you with those details just now” he protested, holding the now empty coffee cup firmly in his grasp. “Why don’t you come by my office later today, we’ll get you access to all of our reports” he formally offered as the waitress returned with your breakfast orders.

“Got your regular order, Earl” the waitress perfunctorily proffered, juggling your array of menu items and depositing of plate of assorted meats in front of him, as the sheriff swallowed dryly. 

“Thanks doll” Rockford winked, in the elongated silence, as her countenance soured once again. She retreated to the kitchen as Earl politely shoved the plate to one side. 

“Just can’t make head or tails of it” his eyes took on a glossy quality, looking out the window as Holcomb County seemed to blossom to life. You reached across the table once again, squeezing his hand with encouragement.

“We’re hoping to help as much as we can” you urged him, watching Rockford pour a fresh cup of coffee on the far end of the table, preferably out of the sheriff’s reach. “Who do you suppose we should talk to first?”

“Well, normally it wouldn’t hardly be appropriate, but seeing as everyone in the town hall meetin’ knows, you could probably come to the memorial this afternoon” the sheriff definitively reached across Rockford’s plate and grabbed his fresh coffee before Tim could protest.

“We don’t want to impose” Rockford tried to hide the edge in his voice, before stifling a yawn. This was going to be a long day.

“No way around it now” the sheriff contended, picking up a fork tentatively before tossing it back on the table with a loud clang. “Everyone should be there, includin’ the girls, my undersheriff Wendle Meier, Bobby….that’s the boyfriend. Probably talk to Myrtle as well. She’s the town gossip…” Earl winced with chagrin “I mean, local postmistress. She’s privy to everything that comes and goes. You just come on by my offices later and we’ll get you set up before the FBI folks arrive…”. Earl shouted towards the back, “I’M HEADIN’ OUT DOLORES! Will you put their breakfast on my tab??” The sheriff shifted awkwardly out of the booth, straightening his gun holster and holding his hat tentatively in his hands.

“Look Mr. Rockford, I won’t pussy-foot around. The Clutter Family deserved better than this. Better than conjecture. I don’t rightly know what Holcomb can do to aid your investigation, but we are fixin’ to rise to the occasion. I confess I will be mighty glad when those FBI agents take control, but not everyone in Finney County feels the same way. You’re bound to find a mix of neighborly interest and small town secrets, but if you have any real trouble you just let me know. ‘Preciate your help as well ma’am” he took your hand definitively in his own before nodding curtly and heading out the door. “SEE YOU LATER THIS AFTERNOON D!” he shouted before heading out the door. Rockford shifted his gaze to you with curiosity before pouting over the now emptied coffee. As if on cue, Dolores emerged from the kitchen with a fresh pot of joe.

“‘Xpect you’ll be wantin’ more” she jibed, depositing the now obsolete check at your table and muttering under her breath, “Wouldn’t hurt to get a tip on that, Mack…” before returning to the kitchen in protest. You paused, looking at both of your untouched plates before you. 

Looks like you were headed to a funeral.

You gazed down appraisingly at your bandaged knee, which despite a disheveled aesthetic, was managing to heal nicely. You were a bit of a sight for sore eyes, and it never ceased to amaze you how quickly the ghost of condescension showed up, despite your protestations, and the small town atmosphere was doing nothing to aid your self-imposed ignorance. You couldn’t help but flash on the disapproving countenance of your own past, before batting the memory away once again. Seemed like the death of the Clutter Family wasn’t the only injustice that was rising to the forefront of your mind. Nonetheless, after a bracing breakfast and several pots of coffee, you and Rockford at least presented a respectable figure as you approached the milling group of mourners at The First Methodist Church of Holcomb in the late afternoon. Rockford had grabbed a quick shave and a new tie, and you had attempted to smooth out the wrinkling apparel of a dark blouse and coiffed hat. It had been a full month since you found yourself living out of a suitcase, and were anxious to check into the Holcomb Motel, but not before scoping out the first and foremost suspects in the town…while offering your condolences.

You blanched under the weight of whispered gossip before the sheriff quickly spotted you both and made fast work of welcoming you to the proceedings. It really was miraculous that you were starting the investigation off with that kind of support, and you weren’t about to take it for granted. You and Rockford were both bound to ruffle some feathers, but you couldn’t argue with the intentionality of the town itself. They wanted you here—and you wanted to help. As attendants began to straggle in, you were astonished to see so many individuals paying their respects, and you wondered how many people were well-meaning lookie-loos, or attending family members. There were easily hundreds of people, if not bordering on a thousand, as the Reverend Leonard Cohen ascended the pulpit to begin the proceedings.

“It is a sad day indeed that gathers us together on this unseasonably warm day. A warmth that I can only surmise is permeated by the glowing tenderness of the Clutter Family themselves” sniffles and coughs could be heard around the packed sanctuary and you and Tim sat shoulder to shoulder in the crowded pew. It was difficult to see, but you imagined a row of relatives sat towards the front, and just to your right were several teenagers sitting in a row that must be classmates from Holcomb High School.

The Reverend continued, “God offers us courage, love and hope even though we walk through the shadows of the valley of death. I’m sure he was with them in their last hours”.  You tried to surreptitiously look through the crowd for the two girls Sheriff Robinson had spoken of. Just to your right, holding tightly to the hand of the girl next to her sat a cherub faced young girl of about 16 years old. She was starkly appareled in all white, horn rimmed glasses perched atop a buttoned, red-rimmed nose. You bit your lower lip with compassion observing her dark haired confidant, who was practically wringing her hand in supplication. Outside of the obvious tear stained patches of tumult, they were both the idyllic mid-western ideal of purity and youth. You were sorry to see the town itself marred by such a painful and unfathomable occurrence as this. You wondered if an interview could somehow be cathartic, but also worried that the remnants of a traumatic wound only recently incurred, might be exacerbated.  

The soothing voice of the Reverend pattered on, “Jesus never promised us we would not suffer pain or sorrow but he has always said he would be there to help us bear the sorrow and the pain”. Rockford looked to the other side of the sanctuary, noticing the row of honored relatives who somberly sat in the front pew. He squinted skeptically at a young man whose gaze was narrowed in an almost combative scowl, contrasted by a halo-like tousle of golden locks atop the crown of his head. Was this the boyfriend, Bobby Rupp, as the sheriff had intimated? Rockford could hardly believe that anyone in the town of Holcomb, Kansas would be capable of such violence, particularly as a young teenager. But if the war had taught him anything, it was that man was capable of tremendous atrocity, even under the guise of benefaction.

“Let us now rise and sing Hymn 25, ‘Blessed Assurance’” the organ began a solemn refrain as you and Tim awkwardly rose, your hands easily finding the hymnal in front of you. You glanced sideways in surprise, hearing Tim’s raspy voice haltingly and quietly proceed, “Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine. Oh, what a foretaste of glory divine. Heir of salvation, purchase of God. Born of his Spirit, washed in His blood”. You would not have thought Rockford the religious type. But then again, you were still getting to know one another, and there was a quite bit that remained in the shadows. Rockford nodded curtly in the girls’ direction as you returned his confirmation. It would be entirely inappropriate for Tim to question them at such a time as this. But with a proper introduction from the sheriff, you might be able to offer some solace, perhaps in exchange for essential information. “This is my story, this is my song

Praising my Savior all the day long. This is my story, this is my song. Praising my Savior all the day long”. You admired the voices raised in shaky song, here at the First Methodist Church of Holcomb, Kansas. You were more determined than ever to get some kind of justice for the Clutter Family, who by all accounts were upstanding citizens and well-loved members of a tight-knit community. Wincing with remembrance, you only wished you came from a similar experience, but maybe this could be a small chance at redemption. “Perfect submission, perfect delight. Visions of rapture now burst on my sight. Angels descending bring from above. Echoes of mercy, whispers of love”. 

The service proceeded as family members and neighborly friends spoke about the deceased family with love and admiration. Mr. Clutter was described as a pillar of Holcomb Community, member of the Federal Farm Credit Board and a respected name among Midwestern agriculturists. His wife, Bonnie Clutter was a fragile wisp of creature who had often been plagued by maladies and chronic illnesses. Timid and pious, she attempted to run the household from her sheltered state, giving Herbert Clutter four children in total; Eve Anna and Beverly who had grown and left the family residence, and Nancy and Kenyon Clutter, the younger two siblings who had experienced the dismal fate of their aforementioned parents. Nancy had recently appeared in the school play, to resounding applause, and the youngest boy, Kenyon, was a well-liked but more introverted youth who mostly kept to himself. There were no obvious indications whatsoever of what could have motivated a crime of this magnitude. You batted away the looming possibility that a close relative might somehow benefit from an insurance policy of some kind. There was still so much information you had yet to gather.

"In this moment, let me also speak on the subject of forgiveness, as we the community try to make sense of the inexplicable" the Reverend ventured, as a nervous cough appeared from the back of the congregation. "In the same way we have opened our hearts to the visiting extended Clutter Family, they have invited us to do the same in our own hearts and minds henceforth. I have heard some congregants, on more than one occasion, suppose that the criminals of this dastardly deed should be hanged from the nearest tree. But let us continue in the spirit of Christianity itself when I encourage us to forgive, as God would have us do. For they shall know we are Christians, by our love" the Reverend's voice rang out in the all but silent church as you hazarded a sideways glance at Rockford, who seemed undeterred. "The deed is done and taking another life cannot change it. It is not right that we should hold a grudge in our hearts. The doer of this act is going to find it very difficult indeed to live with himself. Hi sonly peace of mind will be when he goes to God for forgiveness. Let us not stand in the way, but instead give prayers that he may find his peace".

You looked more intently at Rockford's visage to try to glean his emotional response to this retort, but his focus was in observance of those around him, probably searching for a similar motivation. Was it possible to consider that the murderer of the Clutter Family was in this very room? The probability seemed unlikely, but not nearly as impossible as the investigative task before you. Perhaps justice and forgiveness could not proceed hand in hand, and it was not your business to even attempt it.

“Let us now proceed to Valley View Cemetery on the north edge of the city for our graveside services, and recitation of the Lord’s Prayer. I know the Clutter Family will join us, even posthumously, in our mutual praise and worship of the everlasting and eternal God”. The congregation rose once again as the organ sprang to life with a final refrain of “Amazing Grace”, as people began to quietly and pensively leave. You firmly grabbed Rockford’s wrist nodding in the direction of the girls before catching the eye of the nearby sheriff. Tim gave a quick wink, and headed in the opposite direction, presumably to find Bobby Rupp or investigate another suspect while he had the chance. The Sheriff met you towards the front of the sanctuary, as the girls held one another in a firm embrace, sniffling quietly to themselves as the mourners exited. 

“Ladies, I wanted to make a special introduction of our newfound friend from the Rockford Investigative Agency” the sheriff smiled with encouragement as you offered a handkerchief which the girls declined. “I know you have already been through so much…” his voice cracked with emotion, much like this morning, and your heartstrings pulled ever so slightly once again.

“Nancy, Susan…I don’t want you to feel obligated to speak with me after such a horrendous event” you bit your lower lip humbly, clutching your purse for some sort of emotional anchoring. “I just want you to know that I’m here if you ever…want to speak to me about what you witnessed…” you trailed off, smiling wanly at passersby and craning your neck to see if Tim were having any more luck. This was going to be a delicate process, and you wouldn’t blame anyone for wanting to avoid the microscopic attention Holcomb County was about to receive.

“I can’t get the images out of my head” Susan whimpered quietly, as her school friend Nancy Ewalt hugged her ever more tightly. “Never in a million years did I think such a thing would happen in our town”. Nancy nodded emphatically, as her hair bobbed around her.

“I couldn’t even stand to wear black today” Nancy’s face scrunched with overwhelming emotion, looking imploringly at the sheriff who helplessly gazed back. “Nancy and me was like twins, on account of our names, and friendship and all. I can’t sleep. Can’t eat. All I do is remember and remember” the girls both trembled slightly in one another’s grasp. “I think it might actually help to talk about…what we saw….and how we feel” Susan ventured, looking to Nancy for support who nodded quietly. The Sheriff pressed his lips together dolefully as you stretched a comforting hand towards Nancy’s back as she finally broke down into silent sobs.

“Let’s get you to the cemetery to make your final goodbyes, and we can set something up later this week. Does that sound okay?” you gently questioned, beckoning the girls forward and hugging Nancy tightly around the shoulder as you exited. They agreed to meet up for tea once things had quieted down a bit, and the sheriff continued to escort them onward as you met Tim at the church doors. You shook your head with lament, catching Tim’s equally darkened countenance. A brash young man tore past you both, nearly hitting Rockford’s shoulder en route and barreling past the rest of the congregation before anyone had a chance to speak to him.

“Bobby Rupp?” you questioned, catching Rockford’s grave expression.

“The boyfriend” he offered, watching Bobby recede into the distance. “Think I convinced him to join me at the diner tomorrow for a man to man talk. I might be city folk, but there’s nothing here that says hometown motivated quadruple homicide. That kid is mad as piss and vinegar, and I don’t blame him. Hell of a thing”, Rockford rationalized, drawing a hand to your lower back in emotional support. 

Rockford stifled a yawn while taking in the burgeoning colors of dusk tinting the steadily approaching evening sky. You brought a tentative hand up to his face, fingering the five o’clock shadow that was already appearing. “I’d say this has been fatiguing for all of us, to say nothing of someone, who shall remain nameless…” Rockford’s face relaxed with a humble chagrin, “who had been driving for ten hours straight”.

“Only so many things a cup of joe can fix” he rationalized, swallowing another yawn and looking towards the nearby Ford Falcon. “Let’s get a jump on the evening respite and we can start the day anew tomorrow. We can pick up the reports from the Sheriff and interview the youth to start” Rockford seemed to be convincing himself of a plan of action that didn’t involve running you both into the ground before the investigation had even started. You felt the pressure of success as well, but Rockford was right; justice would have to wait until tomorrow. You both headed to the car, arm in arm, anxious to uproot the unknown poison that was tainting the otherwise idyllic community of Holcomb County, Kansas.

The Ford Falcon puttered onto the main thoroughfare of Finney County, rounding the corner to arrive at the grandiose Windsor Hotel. You would not have thought such an establishment would be housed at the city’s epicenter, but noticing the bustling, nearly cosmopolitan energy of the main street, you were immediately thankful. If the funeral had been any indication, there could easily be hundreds of people milling around the otherwise sleepy town, hoping to get a look at the dramatic nature of the recent tragedy. Your anonymous benefactor had set up the reservation, before Rockford was even officially on the case, and whenever you discerned their identity, you would have to thank them for it. Your eyelids drooped tiredly, as Rockford lightly smacked the edge of the car door with his hand good-naturedly. “Be right back with our rooms, doll…” his ragged voice blurred around the edges as you gazed into the back of the messy Ford. Despite losing several newspaper clippings en route, you still had a few boxes of files, and were hoping to add to that from the Sheriff’s collection.

What a whirlwind beginning. You had not barely been in Los Angeles for a moment’s breath, before finding yourself at the center of one of the most talked about and sensationalized crimes in recent midwestern history. You tiredly emerged from the car, hefting a small box of files along with the small transportable typewriter into the front seat. You were starting to get a better idea of how your services might prove truly valuable. Rockford was an impressive P.I, but he didn’t have a midwestern sensibility, and there were some sensitivities that only a woman could provide. You were curious to resume your conversation with Nancy and Susan to get a better idea of the details surrounding the scene of the quadruple homicide, when you noticed Rockford slowly ambling back to the Ford Falcon. You knew you were both tired, but there seemed to be an added gait of dejection as his figure approached the car.

“Doll…I think we may have encountered our first bona fide small town scandal, I just wasn’t planning on being in the middle of it…” Tim nebulously began, shifting his weight awkwardly before you, a blushing tinge dotting the tops of his ears. He was cute when he was embarrassed.

“More scandalous than a four person murder?” you proffered, shifting the box to the side of your hip. “What is it now?” you wondered, taking in Rockford’s humorous and unknown conundrum.

“Well, seems that the hotel reservation is just for one…” he halted, looking around the crowded thoroughfare… “and the town is bustin’ at the seams with lookie-loos and passersby”. A growing awareness drifted into your periphery as Rockford’s cheeks reddened still further. “That is to say, in the most respectful of ways possible…notwithstanding any professional impropriety…” Tim began to stutter adolescently, rubbing the back of his neck with self-consciousness.

Your mouth dropped open with incredulity, “Oh will you spit it out Rockford? Are we sharing a room?” you asked tentatively before meeting Tim’s uneasy expression.

“We’re sharin’ a bed” he muttered with discomfort, looking around the square helplessly and shrugging with irritation. “It’s like somethin’ Biblical. There’s no more room at the inn!” he winced, trying to lighten the mood before catching your similarly humiliated expression and pausing dramatically. “I had to tell ‘em we were married”.

You nearly dropped the box of files before starting to laugh in hysterics at the incredulity of the unexpected situation. “Let me get this straight…” you guffawed, between bouts of strained laughter, “I have not only become employed in the last 24 hours, but I am now also MARRIED? And working for my faux HUSBAND?” you gasped between laughter, only slightly bruised at the similarity to past indiscretions Rockford had yet to learn of, which you weren’t anxious to regale him with.

“Till death do us part?” Tim’s playfully beleaguered expression elicited another round of laughter from you as you set the box on the passengers seat and doubled over with a fit of giggles before quieting down as the reality hit you. “Look I might be city folk, but I’m no turkey…” Rockford held out his hands in supplication before straightening his tie resolutely. “I’ll just be sleepin’ on the floor is all…” he nodded, as though deciding for you both, as you leaned against the car door with fatigue. Your eyes glazed over with defeat, huffing quietly as the evening air started to chill. You certainly weren’t going to have him sleep in the Ford Falcon. You took a deep breath before stealing yourself for the next leg of your adventure.

“Alright sweetheart, I’m not making you carry me over the threshold, but you’re gonna be bringing all of these boxes in yourself” you sarcastically joked, slamming the car door and taking in Rockford’s relieved expression.

“You got it, doll…I mean, Red” he chuckled, a wry smile curving the corner of his mouth mischievously.

“That’s Mrs. Rockford to you” you teased, grabbing the key from Tim’s outstretched hand and heading towards the Windsor Hotel. You offhandedly wondered if he were watching your curving figure as it sallied away from him. 

Till death do us part.

@littlemisspascal  @lizette50 @beefrobeefcal @sawymredfox @anelva @wordywarriorwrites @burntheedges @inept-the-magnificent @timelordfreya  @schnarfer @devineconjuring @mermaidgirl30 @galaxyedging @joelalorian @joelmillerisapunk @jennaispunk @sheepdogchick3 @marcus-is-my-muse @guiltyasdave  @copperhalfcent @bluesweaters15 @drewharrisonwriter @darkheartgatita @harriedandharassed @brittmb115 @confusedpuffin @yorksgirl @quicax3 @shaunasflannel @shinyanchorobject

Dead Dove December: The Deepest Cut

Thanks @romana-after-dark for the cool event! Pedge is feeling dark this December and wants to join in on the fun! Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, or DDDNE has its origins from a meme referencing "Arrested Development". The character Michael Bluth opens a paper bag labeled "DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT" and, upon discovering that there is a dead dove inside the bag, says, deadpan, "I don't know what I expected." - fanlore.org

Triggers: Ideation, SH, little smut, spiritual concepts, profanity, PTSD, reference to scars/violence/gun/death, post-apocalyptic world with Joel, implied domme, nakedness, anxiety attack, hurt/care trope...truthfully, we just gotta get through some sh@t before we get to the light...

@toomanystoriessolittletime has a great prompt, "He lifted your chin with two fingers brushing the tears from your cheek asking, 'Who did this to you?' trembling with a nearly feral rage". I wanted to turn it on its head a bit...

The end of the world was filled with so much more Love than you were anticipating. Not the frilly, inconsequential or meandering love of your youth. A darker, deeper, more translucent death than you had ever imagined. And with it, so many other endings had begun to rebirth themselves into a new hesitant light. Joel was the prism through which you had started viewing yourself, and with that blurry and enigmatic nuance your personhood had begun to focus. Within those shadows a burning ember of your own light had re-emerged, not in contrast, but in intimate synergy. You just didn’t understand any of it.  

Gazing down at your body in the sudsy film of a long awaited bath, your fingertips feathered over the many scars covering your body. Pre-apocalypse had afforded you the luxury of only interacting with your body as an instrument. As circumstances plodded along in repetitious doldrum, your emotional life cascaded in opposition. In the internal landscape of emotional chaos, self harm was the treasure that afforded the illusion of control. A sort of subterranean analgesic. You never really understood it, but sacredly knew it by name. It was dark, lush and seductive and it was yours. A way to announce, if to no one other than yourself; this body is mine. MINE. I hurt her as I please. You will not break me, if I constantly break and rebuild myself.

And then…the end. In one searing moment your life had been plunged into an apocalyptic quest for survival. All of sudden, you weren’t the only one bent on your self-destruction, and within you something had begun to solidify. A raging desire. A longing. A yearning…for life. It was like a molten lava, primal and ancient and even more delightedly terrifying than whatever small deaths you had previously endured. And it was all yours. 

Until Joel. He was the flame that seemed to replenish the oxygen within you. Within Joel seethed a depth of suffering and even depravity that graced the periphery of his existence, seemingly holding hands with yours. There was an animalistic magnetism that transcended words, and it crackled in the atmosphere the more you experienced him. That had been five years ago, and since that time, Joel had tenderly invaded every territory you had previously partitioned off, even to yourself. Circumstances might now rage out of control, but your inner demons had begun to quiet in relative submission. Because of Joel.

You couldn’t remember the last time the word relaxation had permeated your consciousness. But it had incrementally, and in sloth-like fashion begun to wrap its lazy tentacles around your pulsing heart. A home (beat). A bathtub (beat). A book (beat). A community of support (beat) And Joel (beat). But could you accept what had so long eluded you in the past? Could light and dark exist in the same space? Could you somehow let it wash over you, rather than attempting to contain it? 

Joel had never pushed the conversation. Already a man of few words, both of you were covered in enough physical and emotional scars to last a lifetime. But you had caught more than a few concerned glances, as his hands delicately fingered the unique patterned scars littering your forearms and quads. Different, but the same. And now, after so many years of evolution, you wondered if this new end was on the horizon. A way to finally say goodbye, not to life, but to death. Your eyes flickered to the small pocket knife you had laid on the bathtub rim. Your pupils were blown wide with anticipation and lust, biting at your lower lip in frenzied tumult. The darkest part of your self that you wanted to submerge into oblivion, trembled on the brink of acknowledgement. If death had been your former lover, couldn’t you impale it on itself? Couldn’t you once again, ask death to die?

You flicked the pocket knife open lazily, feigning nonchalance and gazing at your forearms appraisingly. You felt like an alcoholic, considering that final drink. Not much new territory to explore, you chastised yourself, remembering routines of long ago. Not too low, don’t nick a vein. Not too deep, to avoid suspicion. Symmetrical for the aesthetic. Your breath hitched in your throat momentarily, paralyzed with years of abstinence. Were you really going to do this again, after so many years of control? Self harm was never really about punishment or death at all, but even control had its limits. You needed to know if you had finally stepped into an existence that could include someone else; with intimacy and freedom. A darkness that understood your own, and cancelled one another out. You had given your body to Joel more times than you could count, but could you really give something you un-assuredly possessed? Biting down on your lip you made a quick, skilled cut to your upper arm, feather light and barely pricking the surface.

You held your breath awaiting the numbing relief or the conflicted tears of release, but found a joyful, humming laughter emanating from your sternum instead. Nothing. You dropped the pocket knife to the floor, gazing at the lone bead of blood dripping slowly down your forearm and licking it away tenderly. No. You didn’t want this anymore. You didn’t need it. It hurt. It actually hurt, you smiled. You could experience the scars you already had, without generating new ones. They were ALL yours. Your own story carved into the recesses of your heart, and sharing them with Joel had been the best decision you ever made. You reached over for a washcloth, pressing it firmly to your arm, the flow of blood already stopping. No more. A death to death itself. Only life remained, and it blazed in bright red as a testament to your new covenant of self. A life that included Joel. Holding your arm aloft you dropped the washcloth to the ground, content with your small victory and submerging your face and body in the warm water. Never again. Only life.

Joel tiredly crossed the threshold of your shared home, kicking his boots to the side. No point in dragging mud into the house. It had been an uneventful patrol, and he had spent the entirety of the day thinking about you. Smelling your sweet fragrance. Kneading your plush skin. Basking in the glow of your loving gaze. I’m gettin’ soft in my old age, he reasoned, somehow happy for the unexpected transition.

“Darlin’?” his deep voice bounced off the cavernous living room which was strangely quiet. You usually had already prepared dinner and Joel licked his lips with anticipation. No matter. He WAS home early. He lumbered up the stairs, achingly slowly and rubbing at his lower back. He could use a bath. He caught sight of the sliver of light piercing the upstairs darkness from the bathroom. Caught ya. Joel knocked tentatively on the door, nudging it open hesitantly.

Joel’s stomach dropped with a sickening fervor, quickly taking in the myriad of sights. Knife. Blood. Washcloth. You. You. You. He nearly wretched, dropping to his knees, immediately ignoring every ache in his body, grasping you around the waist and neck and pulling you abruptly from the languid womb of sudsy water. Your eyes flew open in surprise, splashing water and soap sloppily over the rim of the bathtub and dousing Joel’s flannel and jeans.

“J-Joel!…” you sputtered helplessly, looking into his face that was stained with pain, betrayal and confusion.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YA DOIN’????!!!!” Joel nearly screamed, his eyes a dark black of terror and misunderstanding, roughly running his hands over the totality of your body looking for bruises and lacerations and finding none.

“Oh God, honey I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” you sobbed immediately, grasping at the forearms of his flannel and wiping the soap suds out of your eyes. “This….this is NOT what it looks like…” you hiccuped, eyes darting wildly to his face, taking any purchase of him you could find. You were gripping fiercely at his neck, his face, his arms, his chest. If you could explain, if you just had a moment to explain…

Joel paused as a feverish cry escaped his lips unbidden, smashing your body roughly against his chest and collapsing on the floor in a heap beside the tub. He was rocking you silently like a small child, so you let your body hang loosely over the tub, against him for what felt like an eternity. Your skin began to prune and goose-bump, but you held your breath timidly, willing Joel to understand. You would MAKE him understand. You bit back your own sobs thinking on Sarah….Ellie….the gun. You had NEVER intended him to see you like this. Things finally quieted down as the water sloshed coldly against your knees. Feeling your light shivers, Joel pulled back slightly gazing into your eyes fixedly and drawing his fingers across your forehead. Circling his thumbs at your whitened complexion, he lifted your chin with two fingers brushing the tears from your cheek.

“Who did this to you?” Joel asked, trembling with a nearly feral rage, willing the answer to be different than his expectation.

“M-me” you whispered, furrowing your brow with intensity, terrified at Joel’s next reaction. You felt like you were negotiating with a wounded animal. Watching Joel’s body sag with exhaustion he released you slightly to drag his hand over his face in confusion. He closed his eyes, willing himself to breathe slowly, his thumb grazing the light pinkish mark on your upper arm.

“How m’I gonna protect you from yourself?” his voice cracked in defeat, turning his head away from you in pent up anger. Anger at his helplessness. Anger at you, FOR you, WITH you…he couldn’t steel himself against the barrage.

“You don’t have to” you sat up on your knees, cooling water now cascading over the lip of the bathtub and taking his face in your hands, scratching at his patchy beard. “Let me explain…”

“Do you wanna die?” Joel pleaded, absentmindedly scratching at the scar on his own temple and feeling that familiar tightening sensation in his chest. No. Not another panic attack. Not now. He desperately needed to understand. He needed an enemy to fight.

“Joel…” you took his hand in your own drawing it to your chest and gripping the back of his neck with the other. “I’m. NOT. Going. Anywhere…” you pressed your forehead to his, breathing intently and fixedly slowing his. Joel took a deep shuddering breath, grateful for a chance. A second chance. A chance to catch his breath and LIVE, with you, even just for one more moment.

A few minutes passed before Joel tentatively asked, “Is it me?”

You pulled back, your eyes widening in distress. HOW could you possibly answer that question? Was it him? Well, of course it was him. HE was your continued reason for life, you just desperately wanted to add yourself to the equation. Seeing Joel’s love for you, had only inspired your own. Not to live just for the purpose of someone else but for YOU. For Love itself.

“It’s ME, honey. I’m the reason. I’m saving myself…” you swallowed dryly, unsure how to articulate the answer that had eluded you for so long, and desperately hoping that Joel could somehow divine what you meant. You needed him, even more than before. And now you felt you could bring your whole self to the relationship. Everything dark would draw out the light, and Joel might be the only person who could truly understand that.

He looked at you intently, searching for any hesitancy, and finding none. “You’re not trying to kill yourself?” his eyes hovered about your face appraisingly.

“No” you smiled tenderly, feeling the emotional tides begin to shift.

“Are you going to…do this again?” he asked, a pained expression flashing across his face darkly.

“Absolutely not. Never again” your whole self finally answering back. Joel waited. He wasn’t sure what he was waiting for. He knew he could trust you, but his heart was still thumping dully in his chest. “I swear” you nodded, lacing your fingers through the graying tendrils of his hair. Joel finally closed his eyes in relief, slumping against the bathroom wall. You sighed heavily, shaking your head in amazement. This wasn’t the triumphant moment of victory you had planned, but the end of the world had been so much more unexpected than you predicted. Now Joel knew everything, and you were still in one piece. Love had prevailed. Bumpily. Messily. Painfully. But prevailing nonetheless. You stood up shakily, happy to emerge from the cooling soap suds, a new version of yourself. Towering precariously and dripping on the wooden floor, you kicked Joel’s foot good-naturedly.

Joel squinted up at you, finally relaxing into a tender smile, admiring your dripping form. “Help me up, darlin’” he almost teased, hooking his hand around the back of your knee and beginning to prop himself against the wall. You smirked, attempting to hoist Joel’s broad figure without slipping and sliding as he rested his hands loosely on the curvature of your backside, drawing you to him securely. “You’re all wet…” he intoned, swaying from side to side and reaching behind him for a towel, drawing it comfortingly around you. “Tell me more…” he whispered quietly, stroking your cheek. How could you articulate what you were only beginning to understand yourself?

“I didn’t really…accept myself before…” you haltingly began, looking into Joel’s penetrative eyes and shivering. He gripped you tightly, tucking you further still into the warmth of the towel and his body heat. “But after…the fall…it helped me to regain the sense of balance I needed.  Losing control helped me to find my own. It’s like my survival instinct finally kicked into gear…”.

He held your gaze, nodding his head once in determination. He trusted you, the way you trusted him, and nothing was going to break that. You rested your head on his chest delicately, mumbling into his sternum. “What do you want for dinner?” you sighed, planting feather-light kisses between flannel buttons and drawing away timidly.

“You know what I want” Joel smirked, the oft repeated joke tantalizing his lips, which he hungrily licked. You blushed with immediate acknowledgement, happy to be enjoying your easy rapport once again. “What do YOU want?” he countered, pinching your lower lip between two calloused fingers. You furrowed your brow in consternation, perplexed at his meaning. You didn't want for ANYTHING. You finally had it. You had each other.

“What if I could give it to you?” he ventured, pursing his lips mischievously. 

“Give me what?” you questioned, curiosity peaked.

“Control”. 

A gasp quivered in your throat as arousal pulsed between your legs heatedly. “What?”

“You heard me. I can give you control…” he swallowed dryly starting to walk you backwards to the bedroom.

“Joel…” you didn’t get out any more words before he smashed his lips to yours roughly, kicking the door shut behind him.

*Resources for Anyone Struggling

Pedge Paints Pride!

Pedro Fandom Bingo Finale

I love these kinds of activities! Here's the last update, it's been a great year of Tumblr 💖 I have a separate reblog account so check out @pedrotease for all the deets! And thanks to @burntheedges for the fun prompt! Finale Bingo, thanks to the writers for all you do!

Dave York No One Has to Know What We Do @guiltyasdave Down Bad @schnarfer The Roomate Agreement @auteurdelabre Melt @sizzlingcloudmentality Dieter Sweet Dee @yopossum Devotion, Self Care w/ Dieter + Jett @morallyinept My Darling Muse Mr. Ben Visiting @ladamedusoif Ternion @exquisiteserotonin Joel Miller All Good Things @criticallyacclaimedstranger Oberyn Unshelled @inept-the-magnificent He Will Slay You With His Tongue @iamasaddie Hurt/Comfort Trope (Joel Edition) Somewhere to Run, I Know Who You Are @punkshort Nothing Hits Quite Like That First Kiss @backtothefanfiction Javier Pena Kinktober 2024 @flightlessangelwings Afterglow Marcus Pike Is It Real? @f0rever15elf Pike's Place Pero Tovar Drabble #4 @toomanystoriessolittletime General Acacius Soak @juletheghoul Din Shower Sex @pedropascallme Javi Gutierrez Slow @morallyinept Phoenix Rising Agent Whiskey Glorification @morallyinept How Much Does Devotion Weight? @anabdaniels Marcus Moreno Thanksgiving Delights Cock Warming @flightlessangelwings Frankie Morales You're My Stranger in the Dark @lady-of-glass-and-bone Moody Frankie New Pedro Character Little Dove @palioom Unmasked Tim Rockford The Detective and the Agent @604to647 Husband Material Max Phillips Blood Sucking Witch Ezra One Stop Shop @morallyinept

Crime and Punishment The Argument

Grab a latte! What is Frankie doing here? Lounge around in the foyer with this sweet fic "Routine" @endlessthxxghts before heading into the Bookshop!

Triggers: profanity, Last of Us canon + references, references to murder/violence/prostitution, argument, alcohol consumption, MAJOR spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", this chapter got a bit more angsty than I predicted, with just a little bit of passion...

Series Masterlist

Words: 3k

“So are you guys like, boyfriend and girlfriend now?” Ellie bluntly stated, as she peeled carrots at the kitchen sink.

“The hell?” Joel stopped what he was doing to look at Ellie incredulously. “Who told you that?” he huffed, attempting to appear nonchalant as he returned to the stew boiling on the stovetop.

“Nobody. I just was wonderin’…” she mischievously retorted, returning to the task at hand. 

Maybe Joel had rushed things a bit. Looking out the kitchen window, he nervously dragged his hands down the front of his jeans, awaiting your dinner arrival. Maybe he shouldn’t have worn plaid. It was true, the easy friendship that had developed between the two of you was all Joel could think about recently, but maybe including Ellie in the discussion had been premature.

“‘Sides, we need to talk about your school work, or LACK thereof…” Joel deflected quickly, glancing over at the decorated dining room table, nodding in affirmation at the dried lavender placed front and center.

“Jesus, haven’t we talked about ‘Crime and Punishment’ enough this last week?” Ellie scoffed, gathering the carrots clumsily for the stew and shoving them towards Joel abrasively. “I think the school teach has caught your eye in more ways than one…” she muttered sarcastically, skulking out of the kitchen and leaving Joel with a slightly petrified look on his face. 

Yup, too soon.

Joel didn’t have a moment to overthink the situation, because a knock at the door quickly followed.

“I (Don’t) got (get) IT!” their voices collided in the hallway as Ellie raced to the front door, a wintry draft blowing inside quickly.

“Hi Ellie!” you chirped nervously, holding a bottle of bramble berry wine bartered from the Tipsy Bison. “I come bearing gifts!” you shoved the wine enthusiastically in her face and quickly withdrew it. “Wait, are you old enough to be drinking?” you immediately questioned as Joel’s presence loomed large in the background.

“‘Spect she’s old enough for most things, if she took her head outta her ass” Joel mumbled with a pout.

“LANGUAGE!” you both exclaimed, giggling slightly at Joel’s chagrined expression. 

“Come on in, teach, or winter’s comin’ in with ya!” Joel reprimanded, heading over to the fireplace and stoking it happily, now that his back was to you. He could do this. It was just a date. Not even a date. A literary discussion.

“Thanks for invitin’ me on your date, I LOVE three wheelin’ it” Ellie bantered, setting the wine on the table and heading into the kitchen snootily. Joel whirled around with annoyance, proffering the fire iron awkwardly, “Get the NICE glasses from up top, if you can reach ‘em!” he huffed, catching your smirking expression before he softened his tone. “Figure you can have a small glass, if you behave” he muttered, setting the fire iron down and picking up the nearby book.

“Couldn’t put it down, teach” he shrugged sheepishly. “Brought Ellie up to speed, we’ve got LOTS of questions”.

“Glad I can be of service” you grinned, pulling out your own copy of “Crime and Punishment” and waving it brazenly. “Things are starting to get interesting!”

“Can I take your coat?” Joel offered, striding towards you and reaching for your scarf before drawing his hand back tentatively.

Quickly disentangling yourself from the winter wear you handed it to Joel shyly as your hands brushed accidentally in the transfer, but Joel didn’t pull away. The crackle of the fire wasn’t the only electricity in the room, as you were poised magnetically, both holding the coat and scarf in tandem.

“That’s a real pretty color” Joel rasped, admiring the burgundy sweater you had donned in anticipation of your literary date. You swallowed dryly at the ongoing eye contact, desperate to look away, but seemingly incapable. The flickering fire highlighted the sharp outline of his jaw and dark pools of tumult hiding behind those hypnotic brown eyes. 

Damn, Joel was an attractive man. 

You had certainly noticed it before, but the cascading dip of his lower lip was pulling you into a sensuous warmth, broken only by…

“Are you guys gonna kiss??!!” Ellie’s voice pointedly shot from the hallway, as you both dropped the jacket to the ground.

“Damn it, Ellie what’d I say about interruptin’?” Joel quipped, picking up the jacket and rubbing at his lower back with the effort. “Have a seat, teach” he gestured to the dining room table as Ellie smiled brightly with affirmation.

“Joel’s been catching me up on the book. I like it. There aren’t many puns though” she teased, pulling out a chair for you and grabbing the bowls for dinner.

“Puns?” you questioned, inhaling the soft fragrance of the dried lavender, and fingering the tablecloth lightly.

“If it’s not a dad-bod, what is it?” Ellie’s voice drifted in from the kitchen as Joel paused in the hallway, irritated.

“A FATHER figure! Get it?!” 

Joel rolled his eyes good-naturedly, opening the bramble berry wine for the three of you before sitting at the head of the table. “I think we need some more nicknames if we’re gonna keep ‘em all straight in the book” he offered, grabbing a nearby napkin and draping it across his lap.

“Alright, Luzhin is pretty easy, but the Sridya…Scridya…”

“I jus’ keep callin’ him Squid-guy” Ellie jested, setting two bowls down and returning to the kitchen for more.

“Svidrigaylov…” you pulled out your best Russian accent, as Joel burst into an easy grin.

“The Snake…” he hissed playfully. “Don’t trust either of ‘em one bit” he judged, as Ellie returned with her own dinner plated, sitting between you.

“Rub a dub, dub, thanks for the grub!” Ellie chaffed, digging in to the stew and closing her eyes rapturously.

Joel huffed affirmatively, mirroring her enjoyment as you joined them.

“Alright, do I need to worry about any spoilers? Ellie, this stew is really quite good!” you praised, opening your book casually to remind yourself about the talking points. Joel beamed clandestinely from the side as Ellie chomped away.

“Caught’r up on everything I know so far; the murder, the family, Sonia…” Joel rattled off the list expertly.

“She the prostitute?” Ellie surmised, grabbing for a biscuit at the center of the table.

“Ellie!” Joel snapped, his eyes darkening quickly.

“What?” 

“Yes, she’s the prostitute” you broke in diplomatically. “Without giving too much away, I can see your character analysis is already pretty astute. Joel, I’m still curious, what makes you distrust the other two characters? They both present themselves as legitimate and upstanding citizens…” you reached for a biscuit as well, curious as to Joel’s conclusions.

“Somethin’ about that Luzhin always seemed too good to be true. Ellie knows how I feel about it, but don’t trust anybody who claims to be in the light when their actions are mostly in the dark. Take the Fireflies for example…” he shoveled a few bites of the stew into his mouth wholeheartedly.

“I thought you said Tommy was with the Fireflies…” Ellie retorted, drawing her hands into her lap placatingly. “I know…knew some people who thought they were…okay…” she trailed off, suddenly losing her appetite.

“Well, sometimes it’s hard to tell from the start, what someone’s intentions are; you know that” Joel instructed, taking a sip of bramble berry wine and registering his delight, toasting you ceremoniously. Joel really was a good father figure. You wondered how it came so easily to him, when by all accounts Ellie didn’t seem to actually be his daughter.

“I guess” Ellie pondered darkly. “We ran into all sorts of people on the road” she mumbled, pushing her plate away suddenly. “'Crime and Punishment' seems like a walk in the park, compared to…everything else” Ellie looked out the window vacantly. You often caught her with a similar nebulous expression in class before drawing her back into discussion. Joel and Ellie were really two peas in a pod. You didn’t want to press the matter, and looking over at Joel he gave a quick nod of dissent, beckoning you to move on to another topic.

“That’s true” you began, sipping your own wine hesitantly. “It’s not every literary classic that begins with a murder within the first few chapters. The two sisters, Alvona and Lizaveta are the first in a series of tragedies listed in the book…”.

“That nightmare unsettled me right quick” Joel agreed, still gazing at Ellie concernedly. “Thought she was nearly come back from the dead” he shivered slightly, returning to his stew.

“And there is a big thematic extrapolation about Lazarus when Rascal goes to see Sonia” you concurred, slowly re-engaging as Ellie rejoined the conversation. “Are you familiar with the story of Lazarus?”

“Can’t say we really take to the ‘religious’ types, teach” Joel interjected, taking a large swig of wine as he continued to watch Ellie cautiously. You followed suit, downing the rest of your glass in one gulp, unsure of the subtext in the moment. Maybe “Crime and Punishment” WASN’T a good curriculum option for the spring… “How’s that wine, Ellie? Why don’t you thank the teach for bringin’ it by” he encouraged, pouring himself another glass.

“Yeah, thanks teach” Ellie stated perfunctorily, taking a small polite sip and returning to her stew.

“It’s no trouble” you smiled, breathing a tentative sigh of relief. “Lazarus isn’t really a saint or religious figure, but he’s pretty important in Christian theology as a literal and symbolic representation of resurrection” you poured another glass of wine for yourself, feeling your tongue loosen slightly with the warmth of the beverage.

“What, like the infected?” Ellie’s eyes shot open in surprise. “You’ve seen ‘em, right? Bang! Shoot ‘em dead, they pop right back up!” she ladled another spoonful of stew into her mouth skeptically.

“I’m not sure that’s what Dostoyevsky was referencing, but it’s an interesting analogy” you acquiesced, taking another sip of wine. “In this case, Lazarus acts as a symbol for the potential spiritual and emotional rebirth of Rascalnikov. I mean, Rascal, as we like to call him” you nodded to Joel who was chewing with determination, bobbing his head. “Any other characters you had a question about?” you wiped your forehead slightly with the napkin, feeling the affects of your second glass start to coarse through your veins heatedly. Maybe you should slow down a notch.

“That other family, Joel was telling me about. The drunk guy and the coughing wife with kids…” Ellie finished her stew quickly, turning up her nose repugnantly at the wine in her glass. “Mr. Marmelade?” she quipped, rising to clear her dishes before Joel could reproach her. He poured both of you a third class of wine, polishing off the bottle for the evening, before you could protest.

“Marmeladov and Katerina?” you asked, finishing your own stew in the hopes of balancing that third glass of wine.

“Yeah, they remind me of somebody, I just couldn’t tell ya who” Ellie called from the kitchen, starting to wash the dishes as you looked over at Joel quickly. He shrugged good-naturedly, his cheeks a very light, reddish tinge from the warmth of the fireplace and the wine.

“Well, I don’t want to get too far ahead of myself. We’ll see them again in future chapters, so keep your eye on them!” you called back, the table taking on an ethereal glow with that third glass of wine. Guess it was a little stronger than you had figured. Joel’s eyes sparkled with a contented sheen as you watched his chest rise and fall steadily in the flickering light of the fireplace. You wondered what it would be like to kiss him. Licking your lips voraciously, you downed the remaining dregs of your wine, searching for a bit of liquid courage. 

Maybe this WAS a date. 

Joel stared back at you, his gaze drifting over the totality of your body seductively. Usually, you might have felt a bit like prey in the sights of a nearby hunter, but there was a softness and a gravity to Joel’s countenance that seemed to hypnotically draw you in, not repulse you. His eyes flicked up to meet yours almost telepathically.

“Why don’t you guys just kiss already and get it over with?” Ellie’s voice broke the spell abruptly as Joel’s head snapped to attention with a searing look of reprimand.

“Sorry, sorry!” Ellie put her hands up in mock surrender, taking the remaining plates and bussing them into the kitchen. Your cheeks reddened slightly with embarrassment, catching a sideways look at Joel who seemed to mirror your awkwardness.

“Ain’t you got some homework to do?” Joel called from the dining room table, the corner of his mouth betraying a thread of humor as you chuckled softly. Joel stood from the table quietly, heading over to your chair and pulling it out for you deftly, taking your hand gently in his. Even the numbing effects of the wine didn’t dull your surprise at the intimate gesture, as you felt the calloused brush of his fingers against your delicate skin. You didn’t have any trouble imagining them elsewhere, feeling your face flush at the unbidden fantasy.

He led you over to the fireplace, picking up his copy of “Crime and Punishment” and settling in for discussion. “You warm enough, teach?” his honeyed voice seemed to melt your resolve one iota further as you shrank under his heated gaze.

“Oh yes. Quite warm” you squeaked, as Ellie attempted to sneak past you both and up the stairs.

“Night, teach, thanks for comin’!” she finally called, at the top of the stairs. “Can’t wait to see what happens next!” before vanishing into her bedroom.

“Damn teenagers” Joel smirked thumbing through the book lazily. “She’s a good kid, and I’m glad she has you for guidance” he observed, setting the book down between you and turning his body towards yours. “She’ll always have me, but a man’s not the same. Needs a good woman in her life to…confide things in” Joel nodded to himself resolutely, his gaze starting to vanish in the hazy effervescence of the glowing fireplace. “I don’t like to push, but…you’d be just the ear for…keeping secrets and stuff” he trailed off, his eyes glazing over tiredly in the flicker of the nearby flame.

“Secrets?” you whispered, finally allowing yourself to fully take in Joel’s distinctive profile. His strong features, peppered beard, aquiline nose…and lips. Plush lips. You dragged a heavy breath through your mouth plaintively, wondering how Joel might respond to the secrets from your own past. Joel turned back to look at you fixedly, his eyes boring a hole in your already fluttering heart.

“We’ve all got secrets” he mumbled, his eyes unabashedly drifting lower to your lips, as you watched his jaw tick nervously with anticipation. “Ellie, me…you” he drawled, somehow moving closer to your body without budging an inch. He paused, his face a soft visage of authenticity, dotted by wisps of skepticism. “Don’t ‘spect you were always a teach” he ventured, his fingers twitching lightly by his side. You swallowed harshly, taking in the familiar fragrance of leather and soap, as his brows furrowed in concentration.

“What do you mean?” you managed to croak forlornly, unable to break the enchantment the night was providing.

“Just seem pretty world-wise for a teach is all” Joel muttered, dangerously close to your ear, sending a light shiver down your back expectantly.

“Are we doing this?” you questioned pointedly, picking up the book defensively, if for no other reason than to provide a small barrier between yourself and your own desire.

“What?’

“Talking about our past?”

Joel froze forebodingly, inching back ever so slightly at the mere suggestion. “Lots of things happened in the time before. Don’t mean we’ve got to talk about it…” he sulked, licking his lips dryly. “Just seems like you know a thing or two about…sufferin’”.

“We’re in the apocalypse Joel, the whole world knows a heap of suffering” you stated, more accusingly than intended. Things felt like they were going off the rails slightly. Was it the wine? Maybe “Crime and Punishment” wasn’t the literary aphrodisiac you had surmised. “Why, is there something you want to tell me about your past?” the words were out of your mouth before you had a chance to weigh them, immediately feeling the tonality of the room shift coldly.

“I just thought…” Joel stared frigidly at your now stolid expression, the recent magnetism receding into the stymied background. “Nevermind…”.

“No Joel, tell me what you meant by that statement? I seem…what? World weary? Dejected? Alone?”

“Didn’t mean nothin’ by it” Joel leaned back, grabbing the book from your grasp and holding it tenderly in his lap. “Just seemed like…you understood, that’s all”.

That was the problem, of course. Joel had easily seen through your academic facade and wasn’t too far off the mark. No one in Jackson knew about your questionable background, and they certainly didn’t need to. So long as you kept to yourself and isolated as much as possible, you could keep everyone in the commune at an arm’s length. But it seemed that Joel was impermeable to that forced distance. Maybe he too, understood a bit more personally about the type of alienation that Dostoyevsky’s writing seemed to embody. A cavernous vacuum of longing nipped at your heels tenaciously, as you stood, swaying slightly with the shift.

“Where ya goin’?” Joel sat up quickly, his hand outstretched to steady your frame, as you desperately looked around for your winter coat. 

“Gonna head home now. Lots of…reading to do…” you stuttered, tripping slightly over the hand-made coffee table and grabbing at your coat and scarf.

“Don’t go just yet, let me walk ya…” Joel rose shakily, clearing his throat with concern. He hadn’t intended to offend you. It had been a long time since he’d spoken at length about anything other than patrols, and he felt rusty at best.

“It’s okay, the cold air will do me good!” you clipped, stuffing your arms into your coat and jerking the front door open briskly.

“Will ya wait a goddam second?” Joel spat, grabbing his own coat and slamming the door behind him.

“WHAT Joel? What is it you want to hear me say? What kind of suffering is it you want me to reveal?” you turned on your heel, a new gust of wind biting at your reddening cheeks.

“Now wait a minute! I didn’t mean…”

“I don’t see you stepping into the sainthood anytime soon! Don’t think I haven’t heard the scuttlebutt around town…” you challenged, surprisingly fueled by the evening’s wine and pointing an accusatory finger at Joel’s broad chest.

“Well, whatever you heard, it’s probably true” Joel sneered, immediately biting his tongue with regret. “Some secrets should probably stay hidden” he darkly confessed, the wind whipping the brown curls of his hair across his forehead.

You hoped the tears forming in the corners of your eye went unnoticed, but Joel’s face immediately softened with the acknowledgement. “See you at the Bookshop, Joel” you sniffled, wiping at your eyes with annoyance and turning your back to him quickly. Joel grabbed at your elbow tenderly, but you quickly jerked it out of his grasp. “Don’t follow me”.

If you had glanced behind you, you would have seen Joel’s beleaguered expression, as he watched you go, wondering how the night had dissolved so quickly into an unintended argument. But you didn’t look back. You just put one definitive step in front of the other, your booted feet crunching the snow beneath you, until you arrived at your own home, collapsing in a heap of silent and lonely tears.

Pike's Place; Love Actually

I fell hard for these two, but it wasn't until @burntheedges "Roll-a-Trope Challenge" that I managed to really sink my teeth into this delectable winter treat. Since y'all love them as much as I do, I've started a slow burn Winter Series with the assist of @inept-the-magnificent!

Triggers: profanity, talking lots of talking, a little smut, emergency situation/survival...

Series Masterlist

The firelight danced across Pike’s smiling face as he mischievously hid behind his third cup of hot chocolate, listening to you with delight. “And THEN, I opened the final gift and she had found it. She had found the entire original set that included the author’s notes!” Your face beamed enthusiastically, flush from the nostalgic excitement of another Christmas story.

“I never thought I’d meet someone who loves the holidays as much as I do” Pike stared in wonderment, gently kicking you with a socked foot.

“I mean, as a kid you don’t recognize the nuances at all. All you see is chocolate and games and…MORE GIFTS!” you laughed maniacally, plunging your fingers into Pike’s soft stomach and tickling him viciously as he struggled to grasp you around the waist in protestation without spilling his nearly finished hot chocolate.

“Watch out little girl, I’ve got you right where I want you” Pike laughed through gritted teeth, clamping your body between his knees and setting the cup down on the nearby coffee table.

“Is that so?”you drolled, slowing your tickle attack and gently moving your fingers up his chest and into his hair. Pike swayed his body from side to side, holding you tightly as your lips brushed against his serenely. “Merry Christmas” you mumbled into his mouth, kitten licking for more access as he willingly obliged.

A low moan escaped him as you felt him harden beneath you with longing. “You’re the gift that keeps on giving” he nestled into your neck, kissing at your sternum and jawline slowly. You smiled with happiness running your fingers back down his body and stuffing them into his sweatpants’ pockets. “What do we have here?” you questioned curiously, letting your fingers gently explore over the fabric, finding bristling hair and his hardening length. You paused mischievously, “Christmas ornaments?” dipping your hands lower still as Pike’s eyelids fluttered contentedly.

“Is this the part where I make joke about your Christmas box?” Pike whined, keening beneath you and tilting his hips up to meet you. You shifted your body to the side, pulling his sweat pants down slightly and massaging him languidly. “Only if I get to make a joke about your yuletide log…” you giggled, watching Pike’s face with delight. He bit his lower lip with yearning as you entangled your feet with his.

Pike twitched with surprise, furrowing his brow in consternation. “Okay, Abominable Snowgal…where are your Christmas slippers, your toes are FREEZING” he joked, gripping your chin between his icy fingers. You blushed with embarrassment looking down at your legs which were now bare and bristling with goose bumps. Pulling your nightgown down to cover them, it disappeared, leaving you totally naked atop Pike’s body and shivering violently. A blast of cold air whispered against Pike’s hair, washing over you both like a steely wave of winter as the cabin immediately flickered and darkened bizarrely.

“Can you hear me?” Pike’s voice echoed as he now lay atop you, image blearily coalescing before your eyes. A pounding headache jolted you from your cozy dreamscape as you felt the comparative hardness of the cabin floor beneath you. Your mouth was so dry, no words were forming, just a low moan vibrating in your chest as Pike sighed with relief. You closed your eyes for a moment attempting to return to the cheery warmth of your dream, but Pike protested.

“No, no, no, stay with me” Pike gripped your chin between his icy fingers and rubbed his palm in hard circles against your snow suited sternum. With slight annoyance you blinked rapidly, trying to follow his directions. The dull headache returned with blinding force, clarifying you back into a blurry existence as you wriggled your fingers aside your body. Your lips were numb as you tried to swallow and bring Pike’s concerned countenance into focus. Turning your head to the side the fire was no longer a cheery comfort as it whimpered unceremoniously in a blue haze, the final dregs of smoke curling into small wisps.

“Can you sit up? I’d like to get some water in you…” Pike gently advised, gripping the back of your neck and coaxing you into a sitting position as the room rotated around you.You shut your eyes fixedly as a wave of nausea passed over you, willing the cabin to stop moving like a boat atop the ocean. “Open up” Pike brought a water bottle lightly to your lips as you hungrily sipped, cool water dripping down the front of your chin messily. “Slow, slow…” Pike encouraged, massaging the back of your neck and eventually setting the water down beside you both. You opened one eye hesitantly as the cabin solidified into reality, a cornucopia of images vying for attention. You took a shaky breath, observing the myriad of blankets and pillows piled around you like a fort, shivering slightly in the cooling temperature and immediately noticing the rather large tree limb cascading through the living room window.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” Pike joked, bringing both hands to the sides of your face and rubbing small circles into your cheeks. Smiling dolefully you acquainted yourself with your new cataclysmic surroundings.

“What happened?” you rasped, swaying slightly and closing your eyes with the effort.

“Well, how far back do we need to go?” Pike closed his eyes tiredly, finally taking a resolute breath in suspended relief. “My name is Agent Pike and I work for the Art Squad…” he countered as your eyes shot open with incredulity.

“Marcus…” you whined, gripping the hair at the top of his head and pulling his forehead to yours. “Jesus Christ…”

Pike’s body sagged against yours with exhaustion, smiling with reassurance. “What, is He in the room with us now? Apropos for Christmas, but don’t go towards the light…” Pike’s voice cracked a little as he attempted to lighten the tension of the last twelve hours.

“What’s going on? I think I missed a few steps. Are you okay? Are WE okay?” you winced, attempting to shake the burgeoning pulsation between your temples and trying to will your body into cooperation.

“Well, after you collapsed I want to Macy’s and got our Christmas gifts, Santa dropped by. Rudolf is a total diva…”

You tugged at Pike’s hair, pulling his face back to meet his gaze. “Agent Pike, if it weren’t for this splitting headache, you would be the main pain in my ass” you breathed heavily, cooling temperatures nursing you back to consciousness. “Talk to me. Are you okay?” you implored bringing your hand to cup the side of Pike’s face.

Pike stilled silently, tears springing to his eyes as he swallowed hard. “You really scared me” he sniffled, averting his eyes and gesturing to the tree limb punctuating the living room. “This didn’t help…” he shifted with discomfort, attempting to quell the many emotions he was holding at bay. You took a moment to admire his handiwork, as a large blanket had been stuffed through the protrusion, and haphazardly layered with gray duct tape. It was a marked benefit, but without the fire the temperature seemed to be plummeting by the minute.

“How long was I out?” you blinked, doing a quick body check and noticing the pitch black void outside, dotted by peppery clumps of snowfall.

“God, it felt like forever…” Pike laid down next to you, gazing up at the ceiling. “Maybe fifteen, twenty minutes?” He closed his eyes breathing deeply and rubbing his hand over his forehead confusedly. He paused in the overwhelming silence as you took stock of your current circumstances. While you were unconscious Pike had lit several emergency candles that flickered lightheartedly in the otherwise dark cabin. A small amount of wind tickled the flames as your eyes flicked to the nearby wall heater that was chugging and sputtering weakly. You saw several bottles of water and emergency rations piled by the now defunct fire place. Did the winter winds knock out the fire so abruptly? Your mind was still moving at half speed as the headache dulled into the background, but a growing awareness was permeating your discovery. There must have been more to your apparent intoxication and disorientation. The headaches, the nausea, the vertigo…What could have disrupted both of you to such an extent? Your breath caught abruptly in your throat. You clamped your hand over your mouth, looking down at Pike’s resting figure.

“PIKE?” you nearly shouted into his face as his eyes blazed open with surprise.

“Yes?!” Pike sat up suddenly, grasping his chest nervously. “Are you cold? Hungry? What do you need?” he started piling blankets on top of you and breathing heavily.

“Sorry, I just…monoxide poisoning? Right? That’s why the fire is out? Did you pass out too?”

Pike huffed dramatically, nodding his head and grimacing with soreness. “It was touch and go there for a minute” he draped his arm over your legs trying to catch his breath. “I couldn’t figure out what the problem was until Mother Willow snapped me back into reality” he gestured again to the forlorn looking foyer. “I think that actually might have saved our lives. There must be more limbs or branches covering the chimney and neither of us noticed. If that blast of fresh air hadn’t disrupted our evening, I’m not sure either one of us would be here right now.”

You paused with the sober realization that things were worsening. Though the fire wasn’t available the wall heater was limping along, but not for long. If you had learned anything from your outside venture it was that Bessie the Hyundai was about to be joined by…Genny the Generator in the land of defunct machines. It’s a wonder it had lasted THIS long. Pike must be trying to get as much bang for his buck before the situation derailed completely. You swallowed dryly reflecting on your previous isolation. You would most assuredly be dead if not for this man sitting before you. You bit your lip with thanks, poised to articulate your gratitude when Pike interrupted, his face crumpling in defeat.

“This is totally my fault…” he chastised, laying back down and staring up at the ceiling numbly.

“Hey, hey…that doesn’t sound like Agent Pike from the Art Squad” you bantered, your fingertips drifting over his stomach, and resting assuredly on his chest. He took your hand in his as his lower lip wobbled insecurely.

“If I’m not careful I’m gonna get us both killed AND ruin Christmas…I’m not sure which is worse” he jested, avoiding eye contact with you.

“Look at me, Agent Pike” you drew your fingertips lightly over his cheeks, drawing his face towards yours. “Marcus…” you whispered, wiping a single tear that was trickling, unbidden down his scratchy cheek, “You saved us. You saved me…” you leaned down to kiss him lightly on the lips which apparently did him in. He covered his eyes with the back of his forearm, shaking slightly and finally starting to decompress.

“I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for YOU” you began peppering kisses over his face haphazardly and resting your hands on his chest for support. “This (kiss) is (kiss) not (kiss) your (kiss) fault…” you drew back studying his features appraisingly as he pursed his lips tightly in response.

“I’m so sorry” he apologized, turning his body slightly away from you with embarrassment and hugging his arms around his abdomen tightly. You laid down, your chest to his back, drawing a blanket up and over your both and wrapping your arms over his.

“I think, this is a very lovely, if not unconventional winter picnic you’ve planned for us” you rested your forehead against his back, breathing in his deodorant and hints of aftershave. “The candlelight is an especially nice touch…” you teased, hearing small sniffles vibrating through his chest. “It’s very important that we don’t dehydrate so crying is…only permitted for…gingers in pink snowsuits” Pike shifted with awkwardness, chuckling slightly at your feeble attempts. “Besides, I should be the one crying if this knight in shining armor is leaving for Washington D.C”. The room somehow became even more quiet as you wondered if your jest had overstepped. You didn’t want a repeat of last night’s debacle, but if you were going to meet the Grim Reaper, it was time to lay all your cards on the table. You felt Pike’s body collapse inward in defeat as he slowly turned to face you.

“I don’t know what to say” he began, nearly nose to nose with you under the blankets, breathing softly. “At this point an apology feels so inadequate, I just…didn’t think I…I didn’t think it mattered…” he finally ventured, placing his hand lightly to the side of your neck and feeling the feathering pulse underneath. You nodded your head with understanding, attempting to process the unexpected events leading you to this very moment. There was nothing about this Christmas that had been planned. If you knew anything, you knew Pike was a good man, and there wasn’t a deceitful bone in his body. Maybe the situation with his ex had so derailed his optimism and self-confidence that he couldn’t easily see the opportunities stretching out before him; including you.

“What really happened with you and…Lisbon?” you whispered, wanting desperately to understand how anyone could choose a life that didn’t involve Marcus. Pike sighed heavily, thinking back with nostalgia and hurt to the road not traveled.

“Lisbon was…IS…an amazing woman. We met on the job and formed a quick connection when the job in Washington D.C materialized. I knew it was the right professional step for me, but I…my enthusiasm just overreached. I tried to make us into something we weren’t. She was already deeply invested in…someone else, and we just needed time to realize the difference between a fantasy and a reality.” He swallowed hard, moving his thumb to the notch at your sternum, his eyes fixed on yours hesitantly. “I wanted too much, too soon and it all blew up in my face…” he stated matter-a-factly, as a light breeze ghosted over you both.

You shivered slightly whether from cold or emotion, but thankful for Pike’s immediate transparency. Relationships were so complicated, and it often seemed like a person’s greatest strengths somehow could misalign into their greatest weaknesses. “It was too big an ask, for me to deserve” he rationalized, turning his eyes downward and resting his head on the floor in acquiescence.

You tilted your head to the side in curiosity. Well, that wasn’t true, you mused, furrowing your brow in consternation. No wonder you hadn’t immediately arrived on the same page, and your own silence had complicated the situation. Not one to make the same mistake twice you decided to meet Pike’s transparency with your own. “I don’t think Love can be measured like that” you started, attempting to proceed sensitively. “It’s unconventional, hard to grab hold of…and impossible to predict. But, I mean…if anyone DESERVES it, it’s you, Pike. You deserve love, actually.”

Pike held his breath with anticipation, considering your meaning thoughtfully. He knew the truth of your words, but how could he believe them for himself? Just because you desperately want something doesn’t bring it to fruition. He WANTED to believe this whole nightmare had a happy ending, but how many times could one heart be broken? He held your gaze intently, willing you to feel the intensity of his desire. Somehow he was going to get you both out of this nightmare and try to find the answer to that question.

“I don’t think anyone would argue that we’ve had more than enough reality this holiday season” you forlornly admitted, gripping his hands tightly in yours, and attempting to warm them. The heater sputtered timidly in the corner, hiccuping quietly, on its last legs. “I never thought my life would become so isolated and alone” you pondered, reflecting back on the last few years. “My life felt vibrant and connected and exciting until the pandemic crashed into me and everyone around me. It was then that I realized that people couldn’t prioritize friendships in a world where family was just fighting to survive. It’s not that they didn’t care…people just couldn’t extend themselves further than distance would allow” you reasoned. “And rather than taking the risk to keep reaching out, I just receded further and further in”.

“And that’s how you found yourself on my lucky doorstep” Pike chided, his eyelids drooping slightly with exhaustion. “In pink” he chuckled, closing his eyes for just a second. So tired. He relished the tension leaving his body as he sunk down into the blankets contentedly. It was ridiculous, given the circumstances, but he hadn’t felt this safe in a while. He really felt seen. Like you understood who he was and what he was about. The trip to Washington D.C was everything he wanted, but how could he just leave, knowing that you remained? Would he even get the chance to enjoy the adventure of life, with you at his side? And what if things continued to spiral out of control? Spiral. Why was the room moving in a circle? He sighed sleepily, being lulled into submission. Spinning, spinning, spinning…

“PIKE!” your voice jarred him out of his temporary reverie, as he shook his head, blinking rapidly. “You still with me?” you were rubbing his face aggressively, inches from his lips, a look of concern dotting your expression.

“I’m here” he mumbled tiredly, sitting up precariously on one elbow and clearing his throat with determination. “Not going anywhere” he yawned, chuckling to himself. “One good thing about being snowed-in is that you can’t escape me that easily” he teased leaning over to grab a sip of water and trying to engage his emergency training. “Gotta stay awake” he sighed, sitting up against the hearth shakily and motioning for you to join him. You gathered up more blankets and propped yourself up next to him, nestling into his side for warmth. “This is the survival component of our celebration, when our holiday heroes reminisce on the true meaning of Christmas”. The heater coughed dramatically as Pike pouted in opposition. “How do you suppose Christmas will be in Washington D.C?’ he wondered, trying to shift his focus to the future, rather than the current dire circumstances. “What if we were there right now, instead of here. What would be doing?” he pondered, trying to coerce you both into a proactive, optimistic mindset.

“Well, no ice skating” you chattered next to him, laying your head down slightly on his shoulder. “I’m a complete klutz, as you know, and would only be cajoled into winter activities if hot chocolate is included” you chuckled as Pike nodded into your head.

“Obviously” he smiled, looking over at the Christmas Tree which somehow cheerily smiled back.

“I went to school on the East Coast, you know?” you offered “Hence the pink snowsuit for this bumbling California girl…” you giggled tentatively, reflecting on the many adventurous seasons of your life. “Made it to Washington D.C a few times; you’re gonna love it there” you encouraged.

“Why?’ Pike stifled a yawn, attempting to focus on the flickering candlelight dancing before him. “What could D.C possibly have that WE don’t at Pike’s Place?” he grinned ruefully, hearing the winds pick up slightly outside the whistling window pane.

“It’s true, Pike’s Place has excellent coffee, pancakes….and the STAFF” you rested your chin atop Pike’s shoulder gazing at his profile. “Sooooooo cute. I’m thinking of giving the manager my number” Pike gripped you tightly around the waist smiling to himself. “But D.C is pretty cool too. The food is amazing, and the history around every corner…”. You stopped to lock eyes with Pike conspiratorially.

“THE SMITHSONIAN!” you both intoned playfully, pulling the blankets around you a bit tighter.

“Oh my gosh we’ll LIVE there” you agreed dreamily. “I mean, YOU’LL live there, Art Squad” your eyes drifted down to the small manilla folder propped happily against the unknowing Christmas Tree. “What did you get me for Christmas?” you elbowed Pike in the side jovially as Marcus laughed to himself clandestinely.

“You’re just gonna have to wait for Christmas morning” Pike protested, shaking his head emphatically.

“If we make it that far” you whispered, gripping Pike more fervently as the wind howled menacingly above you. Pike gulped back his anxiety, determined to provide a stolid demeanor.

“What else would we do in D.C?” he blinked lazily, setting his head atop yours in an attempt to ground himself to the moment.

“Let’s see…We would tour the capital”…

“Check” he agreed.

“Enjoying the cherry blossoms by spring and the farmer’s markets by summer”…

“Check” he concurred.

“I’m partial to Thai Food so you’d need to bring that home at least once a week…”

“But how will I enjoy your…unconventional cooking?” he joked as you scoffed in mock offense.

“Because I’ll be sending you to work with the most indulgent peanut butter and jelly sandwiches anyone has ever tasted” you promised, linking your fingers with his and shivering in the cooling cabin. For one terrifying moment the heater completely stilled, its exhausted fans clicking slowly to a silence as the blizzard batted against the punctured windowpane. Pike held his breath momentarily as the heater shook hesitantly back to life, pumping a few steady breaths of warmth over your tingling bodies.

The cabin was silent as you and Pike held one another tentatively.

“What do you think is the meaning of life?” Pike whispered, closing his eyes and burying himself in the shampooed vanilla fragrances of your hair.

You chuckled in bittersweet acknowledgement, shrugging your shoulders with curiosity. “Is hypothermia starting to set in, Agent Pike?” you halfheartedly questioned, acknowledging the looming possibility in the recesses of your mind.

Marcus beamed, thankful to be battling the given circumstances, whilst still enjoying your acerbic sense of humor. “We’re not quite there yet…” he mused, wriggling his toes determinedly and reflecting on the many art pieces he had admired over the years. “I just…love what I do…I love appreciating beauty and art, and humanity. Sorry I’m getting all existential on you…”.

“Apocalyptic blizzards will do that, you know?” you pulled back slightly, gazing intently into his eyes pointedly. “What do YOU think the meaning of life is?” you felt yourself melting into the moment, fixated on the beautiful features of his face, the candlelight beginning to blur everything around you in a hypnotic haze.

“I don’t know” he stated lowly, licking his lips dryly and admiring the cinnamon freckles dotting the bridge of your nose…and perhaps elsewhere. “None of the artists I work to protect are even alive anymore. But their beauty…” he paused to touch your face delicately, watching your eyelids flutter shut. “…their beauty lives on and on. The things we love. The purpose we give ourselves…Some of it kind of goes on forever and ever, I think. So I guess it’s…love. The meaning of life is love, actually”…

And then you were kissing. You couldn’t immediately place when you had begun, but much like Pike’s existential pondering, it seemed to have an element of infinity to it. No beginning and no end. Just breath after breath of one another, in a cyclical loop of forever. A comforting, nurturing, beautiful rose of infinitude. Maybe even, of love.

You enjoyed one another for quite some time, unaware of the heater flickering in and out of existence, as you found other means to warm yourselves by the now extinguished fireplace. Finally pausing to catch your breath, Pike pulled you into his arms, lowering you both to the floor, cushioned by the pillows and blankets surrounding you. “This is a Christmas I will never forget” Pike reflected, somewhere between a laugh and a whimper, watching your head rise and fall atop his chest with his breath.

“It’s definitely one for the books” you grinned, wrapping your fingers around his firmly, a new batch of tears threatening to spill forward. “Since we are setting up our last will and testaments, I just want you to know how much the last week has meant to me, Marcus”.

Pike hummed contentedly, his hold on you relaxing ever so slightly.

“I was determined to keep a cold exterior, but even a blizzard couldn’t keep my heart frozen forever. You’ve shown me nothing but kindness and warmth through this whole adventure, and I couldn’t be more grateful to you…for everything” you admitted.

“That’s the magic of Pike’s Place” he slurred, breathing steadily as his head lolled against yours.

“When we get out of this nightmare, you should really think about starting a Bed and Breakfast. Your pancakes are to DIE for, though something about your fireplace leaves something to be desired…” you paused, anticipating Pike’s retort, but nothing arrived.

“Pike?”

You gazed down at Pike’s hand which felt heavy in yours. Shifting your body quickly you looked up at Marcus’ face which had gone slack, his mouth slightly ajar, but chest still moving steadily.

“PIKE?!!” you yelled into the abyss, but his arms dropped loosely from your grasp to the floor with a dull thud. You snapped to attention, gaping around the room wildly for inspiration. “Don’t do this to me, Agent! Don’t leave me alone on Christmas Eve!” you yelled, willing a miracle to occur. You straddled his waist awkwardly, pounding on his chest animalistically as the tears began to flow freely. “Don’t you dare!” you cried through gritted teeth, rubbing your hands aggressively over his arms and neck helplessly, unsure of what to do next. The heater seemed to give one final exhausted cough of existence before grinding to a halt as Pike’s breaths similarly shallowed. “I just found you! I just found you!” you whimpered, gripping him tightly between your thighs and hugging your body to him with desperation. You grabbed the nearby water bottle slopping a few tentative drops across his face as he stirred once again. More. You needed more. Flinging yourself towards the door you crawled army style over the blankets and around the flickering candlelight for the last desperate option you could think of. Hauling yourself to your feet you flung the door open to in an icy barrage of wind and snow, which all but blew out the remaining candles. Nearly tripping over the doorstep you gathered a handful of ice and stumbled back into the freezing cabin hovering just a moment over Pike’s unconscious frame with indecision. More. You needed more. Adrenaline.

Wincing slightly in anticipatory empathy you smashed the powdery ice alongside Marcus’ now pallid countenance, sliding your fingers down the sides of his neck and shoulders, plunging him into a snowy alarm. Pike’s eyes flew open in surprised distress, grabbing at your hands solidly and sitting up abruptly. Biting back a cry of shock, he breathed in the cold night air which whipped cinematically through your hair, stinging your cheeks, but bringing Pike back to life and back to reality. “I’m awake! I’m awake!” he mumbled, blearily grasping at your tear stained face and looking around the darkened room haphazardly. The temperature immediately plummeted as the heater shrank into stolid stone and a vacuum of cold drenched the cabin in clarifying oxygen and steely darkness. You may have averted the immediate disaster, but had just literally opened the door on the next impending crisis. “How long was I out?” Pike shouted over the howling winds as you sat atop him crying and shivering.

“M-maybe a minute? T-two m-minutes?” you shouted back as your teeth chattered together violently.

“God, it’s a breath of fresh air!” he grinned, but immediately sobering to the new circumstances. “I’ve gotta keep you warm! If the carbon monoxide didn’t kill us, the cold will!” he observed, lifting you up by your elbows and holding you tightly. “At least nothing else can go wrong at this point!” he exclaimed, until it did.

A deafening boom shattered the relative stillness and a flash of light exploded into the atmosphere, rattling the nearby windows and sending a fresh cascade of wind and snow into the icy cabin. Whether from shock or impact your body splayed over Marcus’ figure as the vibrational blast flattened you against him suddenly. Shaking with cold and anxiety, you held one another for a time, until Marcus pulled back to look into your surprised face. “You okay, Pink?” he apparently shouted, though it seemed to be slightly muffled in the chaos.

“I think so!” you retorted, feeling equally dulled. Rolling to the side you did a quick body scan of one another as Pike pulled you to your feet shakily, heading towards the open doorway. Squinting into the snow flurry the woodshed burned brightly, silhouetted against the night sky. You flashed on the theatrical snapshot of “Gone With the Wind” as Pike draped his arm around your waist, magnetically pulled towards the residual heat.

“Well, there goes the generator” Pike’s now alert expression flickered ominously against the backdrop of billowing smoke and flickering flames. “I’d be thankful for the warmth if it didn’t promise to extinguish so quickly” he surmised, already bracing against the frigid winds.

You both stood in the doorway, thankful to be with one another, but desperate to be anywhere else, as it seemed Christmas, and your very survival was immediately going up in flames. “What do we do now?” you questioned, looking into Pike’s determined face and hoping upon hopes he would manage to offer yet another solution.

“I don’t know” he acquiesced. “We’re just gonna have to find some other way of keeping warm”.

*thanks @unknown-till for the cool dividers!

Pedro-Tober #4

Inspired by @alyssamariag and @norththelemon I've decided to feature curated pics/art, juxtaposed with fics and AI inspired Bitmoji. So much artistry to celebrate this October, look at these amazing artists! Also, it's the last week to "Trick or Treat"! Hit me up!

20.) Frankie Morales IG: VanessaDraws, "Moody Frankie" @pedges-world

21.) Curls @norththelemon

22.) Gladiator @southparkpedro

23.) Din Jarin IG: Tealspy

24.) Sundance IG: Vanessa Draws

25.) Javier Pena IG: Junes.Pegasus, Afterglow Series @pedges-world

Series Masterlist

Use Somebody Song Fic

It's finally here! As per the amazing Song List by MK Frazier, y'all voted on Pedro's favorite selections and the results are in!

Triggers: Soft Dom dynamic, smut, toys, feather, edible wax, silk restraints, safe words, consent, M oral receiving, unprotected P/V in committed relationship, hair pulling, tummy kink, F is described as able bodied/long hair, exploration of intimacy...

I've been roaming around, always lookin' down at all I see Painted faces fill the places I can't reach You know that I could use somebody Someone like you and all you know and how you speak Countless lovers under cover of the street Off in the night, while you live it up, I'm off to sleep Wagin' wars to shape the poet and the beat I hope it's gonna make you notice Someone like me I'm ready now Someone like you…

You looked over at Pedge who was laughing uproariously, eyes alight, watching the television screen like a little kid. The corners of your mouth turned up in delight, but truthfully, you weren’t watching the tv at all. It’s true, Pedge was enough to distract anyone from the allure of the cinema, but you had been particularly silent all evening, twiddling your thumbs with a grandiose plan. You bit your lip in anticipation as the commercials began to scroll and Pedge muted the tv.

“That wasn’t even scripted. It was totally improvised, I mean if you can believe everything you read on the internet…” he reached over to massage your upper thigh as you jumped about a foot.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise as he halted his ill-timed massage. “You know, you’ve been really quiet all night, did you want to watch something else?” he ventured, shutting off the tv.

Your response became even more tight lipped as your eyes widened to saucer shape, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“Babe, did I miss something? Everything okay at work?” Pedge started to spiral slightly, unsure of the tone of your upcoming conversation.

“I’m a little…embarrassed…” you began “…or…excited…Maybe both? I’m not quite sure what I’m feeling…”.

Pedge held his breath hesitantly; imagination running wild.

“I’m a little unsure of my next therapeutic request…for our…sexy time adventures…”. This wasn’t coming out the way you had rehearsed in your mind. So much for the art of seduction.

Pedge breathed a small sigh of relief, moving his hand back up your thigh reassuringly, “There’s nothing you can suggest I’m not open to” he smiled. “I mean, I can’t promise to LIKE everything, but I’m a pretty open minded guy. Lemme have it.” He placed his hands in his lap, obediently, waiting for your next move.

“The Dom/Sub dynamic…”

“YES!” he pumped his fist theatrically, eliciting small giggles from you immediately at his enthusiasm. His face resumed an overtly somber expression. “Go on.” You started to breathe normally again, delighted with his expected response, but relaxing your shoulders as he began to massage your feet.

“The Dom/Sub dynamic has caught my attention once again…”

“Babe, let me stop you right there. In anticipation of your request I’ve ordered a few…accoutrements for our sexy time adventures, but I wasn’t sure if you’d be interested…” he began.

Your mouth fell open in surprise, eyes squinting with incredulity. “I’m sorry, have you been developing your powers of telepathy?” you laughed, crawling onto his lap in a smooth motion and placing your hands on either side of his patchy beard.

“That’s correct. I can tell you’ve been doing the same, since you divined my pursuits” he joked, layering his hands over yours and kissing you lightly on the mouth. “Is this what you’ve been thinking about all evening?”

“Yeaaaaaah….” you pouted “but it’s a bit more complicated, as usual…” you continued. “Everything I was reading about never made any sense. I mean, not for me and my desires. There was all this stuff about humiliation, and degradation…and whips and shackles…”

“WHIPS AND SHACKLES?” his eyes lit up even more than before, grinning broadly from ear to ear and digging his fingers into your waist aggressively.

“Hold up there, mister!” you laughed, squirming underneath his touch “As fun as that sounds I might have to work up to it” you admitted. “I’m a soft Dom”.

Pedge halted for a second, aligning himself with what you just said and swallowing loudly. “A soft dom” he phrased it not as a question, but as a statement, opening himself up to the possibility.

“The softest” you whispered, sucking on his neck with feather light kisses. You felt his body shudder underneath you slightly as you blew a light breath over the wet marks your lips had left. “I’m actually a little concerned for your safety” you teased, somewhat jokingly, but with caution.

“I can be soft” he intoned, chest rumbling with depth.

“You’re not gonna be soft…” you reached down to start massaging his length gently “you’re gonna be hard” you began, feeling him melt underneath you and twitch with anticipation.

“When do we start?”

Pedge may have purchased a few items of interest, but you had been planning this possibility for a month. You set up a small table of toys at the side of the bed, as Pedge lay excitedly, waiting for instruction, and thumbing through the bondage cards in his lap.

“Are you ready for me?” you called from the bathroom, prepping yourself with nervousness.

“Honey, after that monologue you gave me in the living room, I don’t even know what to be ready for…” he admitted “I guess I’m….ready for anything!” his voice cracked slightly trying to find a mix of confidence and vulnerability.

“Okayeeee, ready or not, here I come!” you taunted, emerging from the bathroom in the pinkest of negligees you had ever purchased. Your breasts were on full voluptuous display, and the pink lace parted at your crotch for easy access. Pedge’s mouth dropped open, voraciously drinking you in, as the cards sloppily fell to the ground.

“Oops!” you giggled, dropping to your knees and sweeping up the cards for later games, and placing them back on the table.

“What do I do first?” he whispered, unsure of where to put his hands.

“Well, this is all about consent. You’re gonna give me an enthusiastic yes for everything before we do it” you drawled, watching his head nod in agreement. “It’s not a game, this is very real” you assured him, slowly picking up the large pink feather from the bedside table.

“What’re you gonna do with that?” he grinned brightly, rubbing his feet together with excitement.

“Just relax, sir. If I tell you everything that’s going to happen tonight, you’re not going to be surprised. Close your eyes for me”. Pedge snapped his eyes shut quickly, palms up on the bed, waiting for…something. You smiled to yourself, twirling the large feather in your hand. Oh this was gonna be fun. And nobody was gonna get hurt in the process. You were gonna take this man’s soul apart, and put him back together again.

You saw Pedge trying to steady himself, breathing deeply. One minute went by. Two minutes. You looked over at the table of toys in amazement. Silk restraints, a pink paddle…your eyes widened at the…spreader bar? You bit your lip with anticipation, moving to the side of the bed stealthily, feeling a powerful throbbing sensation between your legs, slightly intoxicated with the soft power flowing through your veins. When you finally dangled the feather above his belly button he jumped with sensitivity, hissing in surprise.

“Sorry babe, this is kind of uncharted territory” he apologized, opening one eye to find you gazing down at him intently.

“Was that a little too soft?” you questioned licking your lips hungrily, drawing the feather up and down his torso and between his legs.

“Don’t know” he laughed with some embarrassment. “I’m not used to being this…uh…pliant. But I’m all about the YES!” Pedge shifted innocently, balling his fists tightly alongside him on the bed. “Relax” you whispered into his ear, watching him melt into the mattress as you dragged the feather over his face seductively. Ghosting your lips over his face, his jaw, and his neck. Watching his chest rise and fall quickly, unsure of which sensation to anticipate next.

“It’sall pretty new” he sighed, relaxing his fingers and wiggling slightly in an attempt to relieve the tension. You smiled with acknowledgement, reaching over for a new toy. 

“I can see that” you observed, relishing his online selection with inquisitiveness and lighting a candle to prep.

He cleared his throat with momentary discomfort, “Yeah, we can indulge our inner arsonist…as long as we don’t accidentally light the apartment on fire” he laughed, jaw immediately slackening as you dangled the candle precariously over his soft stomach. He tried to stifle a loud gulp as you tentatively dipped your pinky in, to check the temperature. “It’s a little hot” you warned, bringing your finger into your mouth and sucking the wax.

Pedge bobbed his head enthusiastically, all words momentarily flung out of his mind.

“Strawberry! How’d you know?” you twinkled, dragging your tongue across your teeth like a Cheshire Cat, beaming at his proud response. Dipping into the melted wax you plunged your coated finger into his belly button eliciting a soft hum as he twitched underneath contentedly. 

“More” he whispered, “please”, attempting to calm the shake in his voice.

You felt the corners of your mouth tug upward as you began to drip a messy, snaking line of edible wax across the plane of his stomach. Now salivating as his skin glistened and puckered, you heard him hiss beneath you, writhing with the tickling sensation. Carefully setting the candle back, you crawled up and straddled his hips drawing a long, strong swipe of your tongue from navel to sternum, never breaking eye contact to see his response. His eyes darkened, white knuckling the sheets with intensity.

“That tickles” he rasped.

“I thought it might” you managed to get out before sucking at his nipples and nibbling down his torso. It was a pretty messy venture, licking and biting to catch all the waxy remnants. His hands gently gripped your head, massaging his fingers through your scalp.

“Is this okay? Can I touch you?” his voice had a gravelly edge to it, as you sucked into his navel.

“Absolutely” you mumbled into his belly button, relishing the strawberry snack. Finally reaching his happy trail you inhaled deeply, moving the tip of your nose in a broad circle, soaking in the musky aroma of his arousal and moaning with approval. Pausing to breathe and resting your chin just above his stomach you noticed his forehead wrinkling in concentration. You reached up to draw your fingers across his eyebrows. “Look at me for a second…”, you coo’d watching his eyes fly open confusedly.

“Am I doing it wrong?” he blurted out with concern.

Reaching up to circle your fingers around his nipples and pinching playfully. “No such thing, my honey” you dripped, feeling pools of desire between your legs, magnetically drawn to the steady heat of his body. You dragged your hands broadly down his sticky, wax coated chest.

“I don’t know any ‘supposed to’s’ really. I just like the way you feel. I wanna make sure you like the way you feel…” you explained, drawing your fingers down his sides and back up, watching the goosebumps splay across his honeyed skin. “Did you know that you have all the power right now?”

“I do?” he sparkled, completely mesmerized by the soft, open creature atop him.

“Yeahhhh…” you sighed, reaching over for the silk restraints and drawing them between your fingers seductively. His eyes glazed over as you drew his wrists together in front of his body, placing them over his stomach.  “But sometimes you don’t want that…” you started to wrap the silken fabric loosely around his wrists, kissing his fingers and biting at them softly.

“I don’t” he uttered somewhere between a question and an answer, completely lost in this new activity and your hypnotic stare. You leaned forward, vibrating into the soft suckle of his mouth as he exhaled beneath you.

“Oh yes” you breathed. “You can already feel yourself losing control just a little…”

“I can” his eyelids fluttered shut as he absentmindedly bucked his hips slightly with anticipation. 

“Tell me how your body feels” you questioned, gently sucking on his earlobe.

He swallowed dryly, keeping his eyes closed with determination. “I’m feeling…floaty…a little nervousssss…” he inhaled quickly with surprise.

You had reached behind you to hold his length in the palm of your hand, feathering your fingertips down the shaft and arriving at the tip which was dripping precum. He mewled happily as you slid your body down his torso, grabbing at his chest and nuzzling your face back into his manhood. Hovering over his stiffening member you decided to kitten lick the head, swirling the fleshy underside of your tongue around the tip and enjoying the salty taste.

“That’s okay, because you’re going to feel softer and softer and softer…” you VERY carefully grazed your teeth over his plumping length “as you get harder and harder and harder”. A whisper of a moan flew from his lips as he desperately tried to stay still.

Keeping your eyes trained on him you gently suckled at the tip, bobbing your head lightly and fluttering your tongue in butterfly like movements.

“Oh gawwwwd” he broke the silence, nearly startling you with the force of his voice “Fuuuuuck…” he whimpered, a nearly pained expression crossing his face. “It’s….uhgn…so….OH…soooooo….” you reached up to massage the underside of his quads and buttocks. Sucking and massaging and swirling and pinching.

Pedge started babbling incoherently, his sentences occasionally laced with words, “Baby it’s….OH GOD…I can’t quite….OH GOD…if I just….OH GOD…”. You could see a film of sweat start to coat his forehead, shining in the candle’s flickering light, as he bit his lower lip, nearly drawing blood.

Your eyes grew wide with intensity, trying to read his body and the many sensations. You felt that quintessential tightening in his lower body and a light tremor, but truthfully, something seemed a little off. You slowed your approach, watching his face relax with relief, and pull your lips down his member with a satisfying pop.

“Honey? Talk to me, do I need to go slower…” you asked with concern.

He seemed at a loss for words, eyes glazed over with an unreadable emotion.

“So much” he was breathing heavily, collapsed back on the bed, voice nearly cracking with effort. You quickly reached up and undid the restraints. 

“Do we need to stop?” you tried to hide the urgency in your voice, but your worst fears were starting to materialize in your imagination. You tenderly massaged his wrists and kissed the inner palm of his hand cautiously. “Why didn’t you use your safe word? Did you forget?” your heart started fidgeting wildly in your chest. Pedge caught his breath and gathered his surroundings again, taking you in with the tender gaze of his brown eyes.

“Honey” he started, tearing up ever so slightly. “Is this what it’s like for you?” he ventured, rubbing his eyes with emotion and trying to pull himself back together.

“What do you mean?” you asked in a hushed tone, wildly concerned you had overstepped.

“So beautiful” he reached up and cupped your face with one hand. “So beautiful” he repeated, as you closed your eyes and hummed contentedly. “I can’t…” he dropped his hands with exasperation. “I started floating away” he laughed tiredly, falling back on the bed with incredulity. “It was like…I couldn’t say no” he covered his face with his hands in embarrassment.

Your cheeks reddened with pride, pulling his hands lightly away from his face. “We can stop if it’s too much” you drew your finger across his bottom lip. “Are you having a hard time letting go?”

He nodded. “I just wasn’t ready for how soft everything was…I’ve never felt…like that…Like…I was you. Or, something weird. Like…my body…wasn’t here…or….it was everywhere….Jesus, what candle did I buy???” he started laughing with abandon.

You smiled, giggling with relief, “Should we stop now?” you thumbed his chin playfully, waiting for further instructions.

“Gawd no!” he whined, lifting you underneath your elbows and biting at your neck. “That was fucking amazing! I just need another chance…I’m the YES man!” he seemed to get a second wind, determined to demonstrate his willingness.

Your entire countenance collapsed with relief, hugging him tightly and passionately kissing him till you were both out of breath.

“Okay, take two” you smiled. “Now we know what we’re doing, that was just the sexy time rehearsal” you smirked, starting to move your hips in a circular motion over his stomach. Pedge took a deep breath, grazing his hands over your breasts and massaging lightly.

“Understood” he swallowed.

“And you remember your safe word?”

You started sucking lightly at his neck.

“YES!”

“And you’re going to use it if you feel yourself going somewhere you don’t like?”

You kissed down his sternum and swirled your tongue across his mid-drift.

“Oh yes….” he whimpered, begin to harden again underneath you.

“Because you want to let go for me…You’re such a good boy, aren’t you?”

You looked up to see him wordlessly mouth “yes” as you massaged his length up and down

You eased down to notch the tip of him at your dripping entrance as he brought his hands under the orbs of your ass, in a basket hold. Slowly, so very slowly, you lowered yourself onto him, taking in every delightful inch, sheathing yourself around his member. Dropping your head forward, your hair cascaded around you both in messy ringlets, pressing your hands into his chest for support. A low groan rumbled through his sternum as you both took a moment to enjoy the connection of your joined bodies, breathing in tandem and moving to intertwine your fingers through his locks of hair.

“You’re minnnnne….” you growled enticingly, eyes lustfully at half mast, drawing your fingers harshly across his scalp and pulling the hair taut. “Do you want that? Do you want to be mine?”.

“Minnnne, ohhhh, yes…soooo…much…yourssss….” he repeated as you circled your hips in a languid pattern.

“And you’re going to let me use you” you moaned, gaining intensity and moving your hands lightly to the sides of his neck, as he drew his knees up under your body for leverage.

“Uuu—-uuuu—-uuse me” he started to intone, beginning to unravel underneath your body.

“And you can just let…” you gasped slightly, feeling him twitch inside you “you can just let go, because I’ve got you. I’ve got you…I’ve got you…” you started whispering on repeat, overwhelmed by the intimacy of the moment and floating into your own euphoria.

You felt P’s hips stutter and begin to shake with abandon, gripping the base of his neck as the pleasure intensified beyond belief. A white hot, searing light began to radiate through your core, rushing upwards and sideways and engulfing your body in flames of desire. Completely overwhelming, completely overpowering. You heard your voice release in ecstasy, outside of your own body, aglow with sensation.

In a haze of weightlessness and timelessness you felt P pulse underneath you as you fluttered around him. Strong arms gripped you around your torso as he came hard with ribbon after ribbon of heat, pouring into you and through you and dripping out of you. Melting into each other’s bodies you fell sideways in an embrace, intertwined in delight. Breathing heavily, you floated between disembodiment and pure clarity, feeling his length housed securely in your sex, still throbbing around him.

Being still. Coming back into your own body, feeling your breath expand outward, piecing your soul back together, your eyelids fluttered open to regain a sense of reality. 

And there he was. Eyes closed in rapture, smiling contentedly, lips parted peacefully. 

Yours. 

You kissed him lightly on the mouth, and as though breathing life into him, his eyes opened, reflecting dark pools of tranquility. You lay, nose to nose, breathing one another in and out for what seemed like an eternity, afraid to break the moment.

A single tear slid down your cheek as he reached up to wipe it away.

“Yes” he said. “A thousand times, yes”.