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Chapter Text

There were times when he was never close enough. Times when they made love all night or all morning and still, she wanted more. Needed more. Sometimes he would give her what she wanted until she couldn’t take it anymore—fuck her until she was so over-used she had to tell him to stop—and other times he would give her something else, just to see how long she could last being filled by him but not fulfilled by him.

They were lounging on the couch one lazy Sunday, after a long night tangled in the sheets and a slow morning with his head between her legs before breakfast, when the idea came to him. The Marseille–Nice match had ended a half-hour ago, a lackluster nil–nil draw where the players of both sides seemed to have been running in slow motion for ninety minutes. The two of them were laying on the couch back to front, with him behind, and she was scrolling through something on her phone while the TV cycled through replays on mute. She stopped scrolling when she felt him pull down her leggings.

“What are you doing back there?” she asked.

Her voice was trying for casual, but he knew the breathy hitch of arousal when he heard it. It was no surprise when he slipped a finger between her ass cheeks and found her pussy lips wet.

“I’m trying something,” he replied, popping the button on his jeans and dragging down the zipper. He took his cock out with one hand, using the other to pull down her panties and spread her legs so he could get a good angle to enter her from behind.

She moaned as he pushed inside, back arching as his half-hard cock slid easily inside her slick walls. She clenched down around him and they both felt him harden further, but not near enough for her purposes.

“You’re not even ready,” she whined impatiently, rubbing her ass back against him.

“Not about being ready,” he murmured, nipping at her neck. “It’s about you warming my cock like a good girl, and not complaining.”

“Ohh,” she moaned, blindsided by the order. She loved this type of play. Loved the exceedingly rare moments where he demanded his own satisfaction at her expense.

He slid an arm around her front, ostensibly to hold her in place, but his hand soon slipped beneath the t-shirt she wore, his fingers drawn to her hard nipples. He tugged on one and then pinched the other, just to make her whimper. He knew from experience if he teased those sensitive little nubs too much, she’d come all over him. Already she was panting, her body writhing against his in a silent demand for more.

“Calm down, sweetheart,” he murmured soothingly in her ear, hugging her close. “We have a whole day ahead of us. Let’s see how long you can last for me.”

Chapter Text

They were only forty seconds into their first dance as husband and wife when she rested her head against his shoulder, closed her eyes, and whispered something into his ear. To the gathered crowd of beaming colleagues, close friends, and tearful family, it no doubt looked like a tender moment. But to the only man capable of hearing the words the bride whispered, tender was not the first descriptor that came to mind.

“I am dripping wet for you right now.”

The groom’s steps faltered on the dance floor, but luckily he’d had enough practice over the years to rescue it. He played off the misstep as purposeful, reaching his arms around his new wife’s back and hugging her to him as if he couldn’t stand to have even a few inches’ of space between them. The crowd let out a soft sigh at the apparent overflow of emotion, and even a few audible Awwws could be heard among a contingent of young women.

“What,” the groom hissed in his bride’s ear, “in the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about how much I need your cock inside me. Right now.” Her left hand grasped at his back, her rings shining and bright under the lights for all to see as she whispered, “I’ve been wet since the moment I saw you standing at the altar. This tux you’re wearing, honey, I swear to God—”

“You need to stop talking,” he interrupted sharply. “Or else you’re going to make me get an erection in front of both of our extended families. I’ll never be able come back from that. Do you understand?”

“How do you think I feel? I’m practically dripping on the dance floor here. Thought I was going to leave a trail behind me when we walked back down the aisle.”

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, forcing a smile onto his face as he leaned away, and rightened their positions. Back to dancing, back to paying attention to the crowd of loved ones, back to listening to the music… “How many more goddamn verses are in this stupid song?” he muttered in her ear.

The bride snickered, her shoulders shaking as they circled the floor. She squeezed his hand that held hers, and then let herself be twirled out, and drawn back in. He held her a little closer for the rest of the song, and she relished in the feel of his big, warm body pressed close against hers. With every shift of his hips against hers, she imagined them naked. Or better yet, half-naked. She loved the idea of him taking her in her dress, with him still in his tux, and she told him so in no uncertain terms. By the time their first dance finally ended, they had a plan that was as flawed as it was desperate.

Fifteen minutes later, they found excuses to sneak off and made their way to a nondescript room in the back of the venue that, luckily, had a lock on the inside. No sooner had that lock been turned did the groom have his bride pinned up against the door, his hands already scrambling at the tulle of her dress so as to get at the prize beneath.

“Rip it, rip it, rip it,” she chanted, doing her part to help lift the hem. “I don’t care about the stupid dress, I need you.”

He snorted, not knowing if he was flattered or frightened by her ability to throw such a precious garment to the wolves. “Thousands of dollars went into this dress,” he reminded her. “I am not ripping it.”

A moment later his hands finally found the bare skin of her thigh, and their eyes connected as he touched the lace of her panties. They were, indeed, soaked through. If he hadn’t known any better, he would’ve thought they’d come straight out of the washer.

“Mon coeur,” he whispered, voice full of reverence as he stroked the wet scrap of fabric with two thick fingers. “I can't believe you got this way all by yourself.”

“Didn’t even touch myself,” she replied, her words trapped somewhere between proud and desperate. “Waited for you,” she continued in a whisper, tugging at the lapels of his tux to bring him ever closer. “I wanted my husband to be the first to touch me.”

“I’m touching you now,” he whispered, shoving her lacy panties down so there was nothing but her hot, wet flesh, cleaving open for his familiar fingers.

She moaned as he slid first two, and then three fingers inside her weeping pussy. She cursed him when he brushed his thumb very gently against her clit. He delighted in the way it was already so heavy and sensitive for him. He bet if he pinched it right now, he could make her come on command. The thought of her shattering apart that quickly made his cock throb, and he let go of her to ready himself. His pants fell to his ankles as he fisted himself with one hand and gathered her wetness with another, slathering it all over his straining erection.

“This might be the wettest you’ve ever been for me,” he murmured, fixing his position as she turned her back and braced herself against the door. “Wish we could get married all the time.”

She laughed, hiking up the train of her dress before pushing out her ass in invitation. “So long as you keep wearing that tux, you and I can play wedding-day in the bedroom as much as you like.”

He grinned, catching her eye as she looked back over her shoulder at him. “I love you.”

“Now and always,” she promised.

Anything else that might’ve been said was abandoned, swallowed up by pleasure as he pushed inside her and the two of them raced, fast and hard, to consummate the vows they’d declared not an hour before. If anyone heard the shouts from the back room, they didn't bother investigating.

Chapter Text

They were only supposed to kiss. That was the deal, the requirement, that was the beginning and the end of what they had signed up for. Go into this room, kiss a complete stranger in front of the cameras, and then leave. No talking, no exchanging of names, no hellos, nothing. It was all part of a study about intimacy. Or maybe the study part was a lie, and it was just an art project. Or maybe, some weirdo was getting their rocks off at the expense of a bunch of saps who didn’t have a lover of their own to kiss.

She didn’t care; she hadn’t signed up because of the watchers, whoever they might be. She’d signed up because she couldn’t remember the last time she’d kissed someone and actually felt something. Loneliness had driven her to answer the ad, and to hope she might get something real out of it. She spent all morning trying to talk herself down. Telling herself it would be fine at best, gross at worst.

It wasn’t fine.

It wasn’t gross.

It was the best kiss of her life, and even just twenty seconds into it, she couldn’t imagine it ever ending. She felt like she was going to die if the two of them just walked out of here at the end without ever speaking to or seeing one another again, but she knew that was how it had to be. That was what they’d agreed to.

So she poured everything she had into the kiss. If he was going to leave here with a lasting impression of her, she wanted it to be this: how open and eager her mouth was for him, how crafty and teasing her tongue could be, how good her body felt pressed close against his. She latched her mouth onto his like she couldn’t breathe without him, and meanwhile let her hands roam, from his waist up his back and then down over his chest. He was strong. She could feel the muscles beneath his clothes, and she was aching to see them bare.

He kissed her back and touched her too, and it didn’t take very long before she felt his body start to respond in that telltale way no man could control.

“Sorry,” he gasped after a few minutes, breaking the kiss and stumbling away. His hands went to his waist, as if the bulge visible there could be so easily hidden. “It’s—it’s been a while for me. Please—um—please ignore that. I’m really sorry; I know that’s not what we’re here for.”

There was a bright red flush spreading from his neck up to his cheeks. He had to have at least a decade on her, and she realized as she stared at him that she didn’t think she’d ever seen a man that old blush. It was actually rather cute.

“It’s okay,” she told him. “You don’t have to apologize.”

She was very aware of the dampness that had been collecting between her legs for the last few minutes, and how grateful and frustrated she’d felt during the kiss, knowing he couldn’t feel how much she truly wanted him. She’d thought she was crazy, getting so wet from just kissing a man. But maybe, she thought as she took a step towards him, maybe she wasn’t that crazy. Maybe he felt the attraction too, just as strongly as she did. He was still trying to cover himself, and though he eyed her nervously as she approached, he didn’t retreat again. She took that as a good sign.

“You’re right that this isn't what we signed up for,” she began. “But I’d like to know…” Slowly, she reached out, prying his hands away from where they hid himself. She held them and looked up into his eyes, hoping this wouldn’t be the closest she’d ever get to knowing him. “Would you be open to us doing more than kissing?”

Chapter Text

All Nile said was that she was trying to impress a man and Quynh, wonderful woman that she was, knew exactly what she meant and didn’t ask questions. She gave Nile the address of her favorite shop, the name of her favorite salesgirl, and she sent her on her way. Andy, as usual, was not so tactful.

“The fuck you need lingerie for?” Andy asked. “Just get naked. Trust me, whoever he is, he’ll be impressed by what you’ve got naturally. Men are easy like that.”

Nile ignored her, firstly because Andy was not exactly a paragon of fashion even on her best day, and secondly because she didn’t want to go the easy route. She wanted to try. She wanted to put forth such an effort that Booker would be forced to finally, finally notice her. As more than the baby of the group. As more than the friend he shared the downtime between missions with.

She wanted him to see her as a woman, goddamn it, a real woman, who was mature and sexy and who very much wanted him as a man—between her legs and inside her body and all over her all of the time.

She didn’t tell Quynh any of that, of course, but something about the way Quynh smiled at her when she asked for help made Nile think that maybe she knew somehow. Good luck with your shopping, she texted the morning of, and Nile reviewed that message throughout the day, drawing strength and confidence from it.

She spent hours cycling through one bra-and-panty set after another. She tried bodysuits and corsets, thongs and garter belts. She took pictures of the options she liked and sent them to Quynh for advice, all the while thinking about him, and wondering what he would like. What would Book want to see her in, given the choice?

Nothing, her cruel heart told her. He doesn’t want you.

Red, her more charitable side settled on. He’d like to see her in red. Or maybe white. Blue, perhaps, instead of the usual black. There were too many options, so Nile sent endless pictures to Quynh, asking for her opinion in between dodging messages from the rest of the team about where she was and why she’d been on radio silence all day.

By late afternoon, Nile was exhausted from all the shopping. She twisted in front of the mirror, trying to see herself the way he might. She was wearing a lacy red teddy with a neckline that plunged nearly all the way down to her navel. It looked good, she thought. It showed off her ass and thighs, even flattered her small breasts. It might be the one. Or maybe she was tired and giving up.

What do you think? she texted Quynh hopefully, along with a few pictures. Do you like this one?

Quynh hadn’t answered any of her texts for a while now—no doubt she was sick of all the handholding—so Nile tossed her phone aside, not expecting an immediate reply. She returned to the mirror, running her hands over her body. She cupped her breasts and then smoothed her palms down over her abdomen. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine they were his hands, squeezing and stroking. She slid one between her legs, just to feel the warmth her core always exuded at the thought of him.

Nile heard her phone chime, and bent to retrieve it. In a speak-of-the-Devil moment, she found a text from Booker waiting there. Smiling at the mere reminder of his existence, she tapped open the message.

And then she froze.

She hardly even saw the one word he’d texted—Wow—because all she could see was her side of the conversation. All she could see were those pictures, those questions. What were they doing in this thread? She’d texted Quynh. She’d been texting Quynh all day. Heart pounding, Nile clicked back over to her inbox, and felt a momentary flood of relief. She had been texting Quynh all day, thank God. But somehow, in her struggle to answer other messages while avoiding the team chat, she’d pasted the images into the wrong thread.

She’d meant to send those last two pictures to Quynh, but instead she’d sent them to Booker.

“Fuck,” she hissed, fingers shaking as she struggled to tell him Forget about it!; Just kidding!; Sorry, wrong number! Every excuse she came up with sounded just like that—an excuse. How was she supposed to come back from this? Even if she filled the screen with a wall of text, the pictures would still be there, so obvious and damning.

Just when she thought it couldn’t get any worse, she noticed his side of the screen animating. The little dots indicating he was typing appeared, disappeared, reappeared. She had about four cardiac events in the time it took him to type one sentence.

I’m flattered you’re seeking my opinion on such an intimate purchase.

I’m not, she texted back furiously, stabbing her thumb at the send button. And then, because she could so easily picture him laughing at her, she added for good measure, Fuck off.

Her heart slammed in her chest as she watched him write back. God, what if he was with the others right now? What if he’d shown them those pictures? She’d specifically sent pictures only to Quynh, because she knew they wouldn’t be shared, not even with Andy. But Nile wouldn’t put it past Booker to—

I’m curious, he texted. Who is it you’re trying to impress with all that lace?

Nile bit her lip, staring at the message. She typed out None of your business, erased it. She typed Wouldn’t you like to know?, added an snarky emoji, erased it. She drummed her fingers against the back of her phone, staring hopelessly into the screen, before looking back at her reflection in the mirror.

She looked good, god damn it.

And now she had nothing to lose.

So she simply texted back the truth.

You.

Chapter Text

She woke him up on Sunday morning with a line straight out of a porno.

“I want to taste your cock.”

He groaned, still half-asleep but all too aware of the pressure between his legs, tenting his boxers and the sheets around them. He knew that’s what had brought about this particular wake-up call. The two of them had only recently started sleeping together—actually sleeping together, in the same bed overnight—and she was overly fascinated by how often he woke up erect.

It goes away, he had gotten in the habit of telling her over the last few months, because it always did. Either it faded on its own after a few minutes, or at the rare times it persisted, he took care of it in the shower. Ever since she began spending nights at his place, they’d gotten in the habit of taking care of it together. Well, almost always together. More than once, he’d woken up to find himself already inside of her, her breasts bouncing as she rode his morning wood.

That was what he got, he supposed, for dating a woman not even out of her twenties.

It was a miracle he could still keep up with her, as mornings like this always served to remind him.

“Right now?” he mumbled, rubbing a hand over his eyes as he felt her move around the bed. “Can’t it wait until I eat something?”

“You always make me come so good with your mouth,” she replied, and he shivered when he felt her pull the sheets away. “I want to return the favor.”

“Don’t need you to,” he yawned, dropping his arm. “I’m fine with the way things are.”

He wasn’t fine, exactly, but that was beside the point. They’d been dating for nearly a year. She should understand by now that pussy-eating was how he paid her back—for being interested in him in the first place; for putting up with his bad back and knees; for generally not flinching when he put his decidedly middle-aged hands on her much-younger body. It was impossible for her to return his so-called favors because every breath she drew in his presence was already favor enough.

When he opened his eyes, she was straddling him, wearing only a black t-shirt of his and a babyish pout.

“Don’t you want my mouth on you?” she asked. “I promise I’ll do my best.”

He groaned, throwing his head back against the pillows. She knew all too well what that sort of faux-coy pleading did to him. He was a weak old man and she played it to her advantage every damn time. He might hate her for it if he didn’t already love her so much.

She didn’t wait for an answer to her question. He felt her pulling down his boxers and then, before he’d so much as picked up his head, her tongue was licking its way up the shaft of his cock, from base to tip.

“Christ,” he muttered, abdomen clenching as he watched her suck him fully into her mouth. He grunted when she started bobbing her head and playing with his balls; he had to fist the sheets so he wouldn’t ruin her braids. “I’m not going to last very long,” he warned her.

Her eyes brightened knowingly, like she’d expected to hear that from him. He scowled at her, and when her shoulders shook, he knew it was from laughter. He would’ve made another face, but she took the opportunity to really work her tongue along the underside of his shaft, and he had to shut his eyes, curses spilling from his lips.

Soon enough, he was spilling into her mouth, his body seizing at the moment of pleasure, faster than he could think to warn her. She didn’t seem to mind, though, because he could feel her swallowing him down. She kept her mouth on him for minutes afterward, swiping her tongue all along the length of him, as if hungry for every last drop. The thought made his chest flush with heat, and he had to turn his head away.

When she’d had her fill, she crawled back up to the head of the bed, curling her body against his like a comma. He bent his forehead to hers, nuzzling their noses together before kissing her on the mouth.

“What the verdict?” he wondered, brushing his thumb against her lips. “You like the taste after all?”

She hummed at his touch, pressing even closer. “I can’t promise you’ll be seeing me on my knees every damn day,” she began, making him chuckle. “But yeah,” she whispered, smiling. “I like your taste. Just like I like you.”

Chapter Text

He was big. That was the first thing Nile knew about him. Before she saw his face or heard his voice or tasted his mouth, she knew he was big. She could tell from the moment he placed his hands on either side of her waist on the dance floor. Without even straining, his fingertips nearly met over her navel. She leaned back into him in appreciation, reaching one hand behind her to find his neck. Her fingertips slid around the back to burrow in his hair. It was longer than she expected, thin and smooth. When she turned her face to the side, his mouth was waiting, ready for hers.

It was loud and dark in the club, and so she couldn’t see or hear him very well while they made out. She liked the cut of his hair, though, and the feel of his body behind hers, and she especially liked the little growl he gave off when she bit at his upper lip. He was good with his tongue without being suffocating or domineering. And his hands…

One was cupped around her stomach now, while the other rose up and squeezed her breast experimentally. She was all twisted up within his hold, her right hand in his hair, anchoring his mouth to hers, while her left guided his touch from one breast to another, silently teaching him that he didn’t have to be quite so gentle.

She would rationalize later that she must’ve been able to feel his cock the entire time, given how close they were dancing. But in the moment, she swore she didn’t realize how big he really was until he spun her around—as easy as if she were a toy ballerina—and crushed her hips to his. She moaned into his mouth when she felt his erection, the sound loud and filthy and utterly lost amidst the pounding of the bass. But she could tell he heard it, felt it, from the way his lips curved up against hers while they kissed.

One of his hands rose to the back of her neck, and she tensed, waiting for that dealbreaker moment, but he didn’t pull on her braids or even touch her hair. He just cupped the back of her neck, stroking his thumb gently along her jaw, and let his tongue and cock do all the convincing.

They made out for minutes, hours, days—she didn’t know and she didn’t care. She had melted into him so much by then that they were practically one being. She felt like she was egging herself on when she broke the kiss and shouted into his ear, “Know anywhere quiet?”

He didn’t have to be asked twice. He took her hand and suddenly they were moving, fast despite the crowds because he parted them easily and she floated along in his wake. As he made his way towards the back exit, Nile glanced over her shoulder to the bar. She caught Dizzy’s eye, not long enough to explain, but long enough to hear her friend shout, “Where the fuck you going with that white dude?”

Nile just grinned and raised her free hand in a wave, making no promises that she’d be back later.

And then a door in front of her was opening, there was a blast of cool air to counteract the pulsing heat of the club, and suddenly they were outside. The man who held her hand was tugging her along, first out into the alley and then, staggering as they made out, over to a free bit of clean wall space. He’d taken the time to find a spot away from the rank dumpsters, which she very much appreciated. She thought about telling him so, but his hands were already busy beneath her dress, and this didn’t seem like the time for thoughtful compliments.

“This for me?” he asked, breaking their kiss as he slid two fingers under her black thong. They played with her wetness before he pressed his middle finger inside, causing her to shudder. Even his fingers were big, where the hell had this guy come from?

She looked up into his face as he worked her open, trying to remember his name. He’d shouted it at her earlier while they’d danced, but it had been hard to hear over the music. It was something with an S, Simon or Sebastian or Samuel or Stephen. When he made her come just with his right hand, she decided names didn’t matter. Surely she could call him God and he’d answer to that.

It was a chilly fall night, but she felt scorching as he shoved her panties down past her ankles and then hefted her up into his arms. He lifted her like she weighed nothing, and she moaned loudly, not caring who heard. Strength in men had always turned her on. She wrapped her legs around his waist, bracing them both as he reached for the zipper of his jeans and shoved his underwear down his thighs.

“Holy fuck, you’re huge,” she gasped, unable to hide her shock at the sight of him finally bare and erect.

He glanced up with a smirk like he’d heard it all before—and like it didn’t get old.

“You worried it won’t fit, hm?”

She snickered at his cooing, watching as he rolled on a condom. If that was the game he wanted to play, fine. She could play.

“Just a little nervous,” she whispered, affecting a breathier voice than her usual as she slid her arms around his shoulders. “Never had anybody as big as you in me before, baby.”

Which, in all honesty, was actually true. He was bigger than her last boyfriend. Bigger than that hung guy she’d fucked in Miami two years ago. Bigger than… Well, anybody she’d ever seen in real life. She wondered if she’d be walking home bowlegged after this. The thought sent a thrill of arousal up her back, and she shivered.

“Don’t be scared,” he murmured, misreading her reaction. “I’m going to take good care of you.”

You already have, she thought, her body still relaxed from the earlier orgasm, but she didn’t correct him.

Instead she let him kiss her, making him work for that open mouth he liked so much. He took to the challenge happily, it seemed, licking and nibbling at the seam of her lips, trying his best to gain entry. She allowed him a few brief tastes, but for the most part she kept their kisses brief, focusing instead on how best to angle her body to take him in with minimal interference. His hands on her ass, pulling her down and out from the wall so they could be more level, helped more than anything she could do herself.

A moment later, she felt the wide head of his latex-covered cock pressing against her.

“Open for me now, beautiful,” he murmured against her lips, and she moaned, her body going slack all over at the sweet command.

He pushed inside, stretching her so wide she felt like her body was going to rip. He was doing all the work—holding her up, kissing her neck, setting the pace—but she was panting at the pressure and the heat of him. She clutched at his back and his hair, arching her hips into him, unable to stop wanting more. He pinched her nipple through her dress and she whimpered, jolting in his arms. He slid in a little deeper, and they both groaned.

“So tight,” he mumbled, pressing his forehead against the brick wall behind her back, giving them both a moment. “So fucking tight for me, feels so good.”

Nearly every woman in the world must feel this tight to him, Nile thought, but she loved the way he made her feel like he’d never had anyone else. The way he opened her wide made her feel like she'd never had another before, either. When he bottomed out inside her, she actually felt tears prick her eyes. She’d never been so completely filled before, and the feeling was so overwhelming that she couldn’t breathe at first.

When he started to move, it was slow and careful, and she knew he was holding everything back. She didn’t want that. She was letting a stranger fuck her in an alley in the middle of the night on a Saturday. She didn’t want any part of this to be half-assed, and she told him so. When he mumbled something about her not knowing what she was asking for, she kicked her heels against his ass. She knew what she was asking for. She wanted to be sore. She wanted to walk bowlegged. She wanted him to leave a mark on her that would last for days, inside and out.

When she told him as much, he didn’t disappoint. Sooner than she could’ve thought possible, she was shattering again, her whole body breaking open once more from his touch. She must’ve shouted, because he was shushing her, telling her to be quiet in case someone saw them, but she didn’t care. He was still moving inside her, working towards his own pleasure now, and yet somehow he was pulling her along with him, building her up again and again and again until—

The world went white, then black, then disappeared into nothingness and faraway sound. 

All she could feel was him inside her, around her, all over her. Her heart, wild inside the cage of her chest, was beating so fast she wondered briefly if she could be dying. Was dying supposed to feel this good? Could she be in Heaven already?

“You still with me?” a distant voice asked. There was someone’s breath, hot in her face. “Hey, look at me, are you okay?”

Nile tried to nod, but mostly her head just lolled on her neck. Somehow she managed to say, “Good. Real good.” But her voice sounded strange. Like she was someone else entirely. Was it possible to come so hard you lost your whole sense of self?

“I’m gonna put you down, okay?”

Don’t, she wanted to say. Keep holding me. Keep fucking me.

But as she came back fully to earth, she knew her body couldn’t take any more, no matter what her mind might long for. Her legs were shaking as he set her on the concrete, and she had to look down in order to steady herself. There, crumpled beneath her feet, she caught sight of the black thong she’d been wearing earlier. She felt the inexplicable urge to pick it up and hand it to him, like some kind of prize. Surely he would like a reward for all his hard work, right?

When she looked up, he was removing the condom, holding it in one hand while he yanked his underwear back up over his cock away. Christ, it looked big even soft. She could swear he was bigger flaccid than most guys were erect. Had that really just been inside her?

Yes, her body testified when she tried to move. The soreness went deep, and was spreading fast, but she found she welcomed the pain. Like the ache after a good workout, her body felt exhausted but refreshed, well on its way to better things.

She fixed her dress, doing her best to covertly stretch her cramped calves while he walked a few paces to the nearby dumpsters and disposed of the condom. Nile took the opportunity to take a few tentative steps out into the middle of the alley. Fuck, bowlegged was right. At least she got what she wanted.

Freed of the mess of the condom, she watched his back as he adjusted himself and did up his pants. She wondered what they were supposed to do now. Say goodbye? Go back into the club together? Head off to their separate homes?

Dizzy would kill her for the abandonment, but the last thing Nile wanted was to go back into that club. And she didn’t particularly feel like going home, either. Mind moving sluggishly, she hadn’t come up with a solution by the time he turned around. He pulled up short at the sight of her so close, and Nile felt a thrill of delight at being capable of catching someone as big as him off guard.

Her mouth started to form the words I should go, but instead what came out was, “Are you hungry?”

He blinked at her, looking as surprised as she felt. She didn’t know where that question had come from, though now that she’d mentioned it, she was starving. When had she and Dizzy gotten dinner? Six? That had been over five hours ago. And with all the energy they’d just exerted, not to mention all the dancing beforehand…

“I could eat, sure.” He took an awkward step closer. “What, uh, what is it you have in mind?”

“Don’t know,” she admitted with an embarrassed smile. “Pizza or something? Maybe burgers. Carbs,” she added decisively, and he laughed, causing her smile to widen into a grin.

“Carbs sound good,” he agreed. He ran a hand through his hair, glancing towards the mouth of the alley, and she took the cue to lead the way. Despite his longer legs, he fell into step beside her as she took them north. Three blocks passed in silence before she realized that if she was going to eat a meal with this man, she should probably actually know his name instead of guessing after it.

“Sébastien,” he answered when she asked, and she silently congratulated herself for having the forethought to check first. She could’ve sworn he’d said his name was Simon earlier.

“Nile,” she offered. “Like the river.”

“Nice to meet you, Nile.”

She smiled, slowing down as they reached the pizzeria. “Yeah, nice to meet you too.”

Chapter Text

The thunder woke her sometime after three AM. Nile lay in bed for a few minutes, eyes closed as she listened to the drone of rain against their low roof. Whenever the wind shifted, the windows shook as if threatening to break and expose their home fully to the storm. Nile silently marveled at the deluge, surprised by its ferocity so late in the spring. She pulled the comforter up over her bare shoulders before curling close to her husband.

Sébastien was still asleep, fully gone to the world, and Nile did her best not to wake him as she pressed her bare front against his back. He ran so hot that he always slept naked in the warm months, and tonight was no exception. She hummed at the heat his body gave off; she was usually cold in bed, and heh so often he acted as her own personal furnace. She draped an arm around his side, and nuzzled her face against the back of his neck, breathing him in deep. She loved the way he smelled in their bed. Loved the way their bed smelled like him.

Lightning flashed somewhere in the distance, and Nile counted the seconds until the thunder echoed through the valley. She knew she should go and check the kitchen, make sure the roof wasn’t leaking again, but she couldn’t make herself get up. She was too comfortable here, all wrapped around him. Unable to resist stealing more of his warmth, she slid one of her legs between his, delighting at the feel of his coarse hair against her smooth skin.

“Mm,” her husband grunted softly, coming awake. “Wa’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she murmured, kissing the back of his neck. “Didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep.”

She hadn’t even finished talking before his hand was reaching back, seeking out her bare flesh too. Nile smiled into his back as his fingertips traveled from her ribcage down to her ass. He found a handful and pulled her closer, turning his head to the side so they could kiss over his shoulder. She closed her eyes, pressing her naked breasts close against his back and sinking more fully into him as their mouths joined and then broke.

“Mm.” He made a soft noise of appreciation, resting his forehead against hers. His hand was still on her ass, his thumb rubbing gently over the curve of one cheek. “Did you wake me up looking for something?”

She shook her head, yawned. When the wind changed directions and the rain lashed sharply against the windows, she shivered involuntarily.

“Cold, love?” he murmured, not waiting for an answer before turning around to face her. He  wrapped both of his arms around her and pulled her close until she was practically laying on top of him. She smiled and gave in to his embrace, happy as always to share the heat he gave off. She knew he liked to feel her soft, warm flesh just as much as she liked to feel his.

For a while, they lay in silence, letting the storm do all the talking. Gradually, the dark clouds moved off, and the rain lessened to a drizzle. Nile kept herself busy by tracing invisible patterns along the curve of his bare shoulder and arm. She connected the dots of freckles and moles, joined the subterranean lines of one blue vein to another as if making river maps. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asked after a while.

She sucked in a breath, deep and slow, and let it go. “Nothing,” she answered honestly. “You?”

“Hm.” He adjusted himself slightly beneath her, yawning softly. “Breakfast,” he answered.

She snickered, turning her head so she could meet his eye. “Oh yeah? What will breakfast be?”

“An omelette,” he replied at once. “I’ll use the rest of the spinach we got at the market. Peppers and onions. Tomatoes. Need to check on the cheese situation, because I don’t remember if we… What?” he asked, noticing the look on her face. 

“I used the last two eggs.” Her mouth twisted in a grimace. “Yesterday. Sorry.”

He groaned. “Well, thanks a lot. Now my day is ruined before it’s even begun.”

She pressed an apologetic kiss to his chest. “Sorry, baby.”

“First you wake me up at three AM for no reason, now you tell me we’re out of eggs.” He let out dramatic sigh. “Do you exist solely to torture me?”

She laughed, and settled her head down against his chest as if it were a pillow. She rubbed her hands up and down his sides, warming them both.

“Let’s brainstorm some backup options,” she suggested, closing her eyes. “How about pancakes? Bacon?”

“Now that I know we don’t have eggs, the only thing I want is eggs.”

“Well, then you can go to the store and get more.”

“If anybody should be going to the store, it’s you. You stole my breakfast out from under me. Like a thief.”

“It was an innocent mistake and you know it,” Nile yawned.

She slid off of him, moving onto her side against the mattress. Like a magnet, he followed behind her, curling his body perfectly around hers. She hummed softly as one of his hands traveled from her hip to her stomach before coming to rest on her right breast. He cupped her there, not exerting any pressure whatsoever, and listened to the soft sounds of her contentment.

“I love when you hold me like this,” she whispered.

He kissed the back of her shoulder. “I know you do, baby.”

She sighed softly, letting her eyes fall closed once more. “I am sorry about the eggs, you know.”

His laughter was a low huff of warmth against the back of her ear. “It’s fine, love. I’ll eat something else.”

“Nothing’s going to be as good, though.”

“Stop it,” he muttered, nipping lightly at her shoulder. “Be nice to me.”

“I try,” she yawned. “But it isn’t very fun.”

Chapter Text

“I’m going to have to tie you down if you keep doing this,” Nile warned, smacking his hands away as they attempted to sneak back up her thighs and around her ass. She glared at the man lying beneath her. “I’m serious, Book. Hands to yourself.”

“Why?” he complained, squirming impatiently beneath her. “How is me touching you breaking any rules?”

“Because this isn’t about me,” she stressed, smoothing her palms over his chest, a reminder for him to lay flat. She pressed kisses along the well-defined lines of his abdomen, smiling when she felt him shiver as she went lower. “This is about you, my love, and learning how to accept pleasure without needing to reciprocate.”

“But I like reciprocating.”

He was practically whining now, and Nile had to bite her lip so she wouldn’t smile. Like was an understatement, she thought. He was obsessed with reciprocating. Obsessed with overcompensating, actually, though she couldn’t imagine what he was overcompensating for. She hadn’t exactly kept close track of their sexual exploits over the years, but she would bet that their orgasm ratio was at least two to one, if not three to one. For too long, she’d let him get away with inundating her with pleasure, simply because he so obviously wanted to and what was the point of stopping him?

But it was past time, she had finally decided, to start evening up that score.

So far, she’d made him come three times today. It was only through the grace of God that she herself remained unsatisfied, though he was very much doing his best to rectify that. Every moment was a struggle to deny him, but the more impatient he got, the more staunch she became. She’d made it this far—and she wouldn’t come today, no matter how badly she wanted to. Today was about him, and only him.

“Be selfish for once, won’t you?” she murmured against his abdomen. “Lay back and enjoy what I’m giving you.”

Before he could reply, she wrapped a hand around his ever-present erection, squeezing it tight enough to make him groan.

“I love your cock,” she whispered, rubbing her thumb reverently over the swollen head. “I love the way it feels in my hand. In my mouth.” She licked the shining bit of pre-come that was leaking out. “I love your taste and the way you fill me so very well.”

“Yeah?” he grunted, fisting the rails of the headboard so he wouldn’t thrust up into her mouth. “You want me to fill you, baby? Hm? You want my cock in you? Is that it?”

Nile smiled, knowing what he was getting at, and shook her head.

“Yes, you do,” he murmured, twisting his hips side to side as she jerked him off slowly. “I know you want me in you. I know you want me to make you come.”

“No,” she replied, bending her head down to suck gently at his balls. “I really don’t.”

“Let me… Oh, fuck,” he grunted, screwing up his face as she toyed with him. “Let me use my… Fuck… Nile, come on. Let me use my mouth on you. I know you’re soaking wet. I can see how slick your thighs are, baby, come on, let me clean them up. Let me taste you, give you a little treat. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Heat coiled in her stomach at the offer, but she made herself focus. So long as she busied her mouth with his cock, she wouldn’t be obligated to reply to any of his teasing offers. He swore, low and furious, as her lips descended down his shaft.

“Christ,” he groaned, white-knuckling the headboard above him. He exerted so much pressure, he nearly lifted his body off the bed. She placed her hands on his hips, squeezing tight in an effort to encourage him to stay in place. “Fucking hell,” he panted, unable to take his eyes off her as she went to work. “You’re a demon.”

Her eyes flickered up, full of mischief as they caught his gaze.

“My own personal demon,” he repeated darkly, sharing none of her amusement.

His chest and face were going blotchy with color, and she savored the sight. How he had enough blood in his body to go anywhere but his cock at a time like this, she’d never understand, but she loved the shades he turned when he became excessively aroused. More than once, she’d thought of painting him like this—if only he would let her keep him on edge long enough to get the colors mixed right.

“It’s impossible to escape you, Nie. Impossible to deny you.” He shut his eyes. “I think I might hate you.”

She choked with laughter at that, and she had to pull off so she wouldn’t make a mess all over him.

“You hate me? Seriously?”

“What do you expect me to say?” he groaned, slamming his head back against the mattress. “You’ve been torturing me all day!”

She snickered. “My love, you are the only person on earth who would consider a day of orgasms torture.”

“I’m also the only person on earth who has you doling them out.”

“That’s true,” she smiled. She waited until he’d picked up his head again before returning her tongue to licking along his shaft. “And just so you know, I’m nowhere near close to being done with you today.” 

Chapter Text

Nile knew something was off the moment she stepped into her hotel room. Something in the air, something unnameable had been altered. She let the door fall shut behind her loudly, hesitating only a second to scan her surroundings before making a beeline for the gun she had hidden beside the bed.

She didn’t get more than four steps before strong arms wrapped around her from behind, yanking her back. Adrenaline spiked her bloodstream immediately, and she readied herself to fight off the intruder, but then—

Then, she felt his hand curl around her breast. She felt another sliding its way between her thighs. He squeezed her sensitive flesh roughly, and she shuddered, knowing the heat of ownership when she felt it. Only one person had ever touched her like this. She shut her eyes, desire flooding her veins as that familiar mouth descended on her neck, sucking at her indestructible skin.

Where he had come from, she had no idea. Why he had come—well, she could feel the reason, hard against her lower back. It set her heart pounding, but she tried to keep the want out of her voice when asked him, “Do the others know you’re here?”

“Do you think I’d be here if the others knew?”

His voice was quiet, but she could hear the undercurrent of fury. It set her whole body alight, and she knew if he hadn’t had his arms around her, her knees would’ve buckled and sent her to the ground.

“You said you could handle this,” she reminded him. It was the only reason she’d said yes to this extended undercover mission. Because he promised he wouldn’t lose it, watching her be with someone else. Watching her be someone else’s.

“Yeah, well. I lied.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but suddenly the hand between her legs had tired of barriers, and was shoving beneath her dress, beneath her panties. She swore loudly when he rubbed his thumb against her clit, shuddering as his other fingers played with what wetness had accumulated over the last hour or so, spreading it around.

“I see your date went well,” he commented casually, and her face flamed in humiliation even as her body sang at his touch.

Her arms were trapped by his, but she managed to wrap one hand around his forearm, clutching it in silent encouragement as he teased her wet core. It’s for you, she wanted to say, but they both knew that would be a lie. And something told her he wouldn’t take kindly to lies at this juncture, so she kept her mouth shut.

“Nothing to say for yourself, hm?” His mouth was still on her neck, sucking one angry welt after another.“Well, I’m glad one of us enjoyed themselves tonight.”

Nile whined, turning her head to the side, seeking out his mouth. He rebuffed her, choosing instead to adorn her neck with fading mark after fading mark. Even while she knew it was best that they disappeared, Nile couldn’t help but wish they would stay. She wanted a souvenir of him once he was gone again. She squeezed her thighs together, desperate for him to do more than talk and steal kisses.

“Please,” she begged when she couldn’t take anymore. “Please, Book, don’t play with me. Don’t tease.”

“You’re calling me a tease? After how you acted tonight?”

“I have a job to do,” she snapped back.

“Yes, and you’re very good at it,” he growled. She knew what insult was coming next, but the word still made her pussy flood when he told her, “You looked like such a whore tonight.”

“Booker!” she gasped, grinding herself down against his hand. “Please—”

“The others were very impressed. They didn’t think you had it in you.” His voice went low and dark: “But I knew you did.”

Before she could respond, he let her go and then shoved her down onto the bed. She fell on her stomach, just barely catching herself with her forearms. She could hear the sound of his pants coming undone, his hand stroking his cock, and what seemed like only a second later, he was yanking her ass up, and she trembled, rushing to get onto her hands and knees under her. He didn’t bother stripping her naked, he just threw the hem of her dress up over her back and then ripped her flimsy panties clean off. She moaned at his ferocity, head bent as she waited for onslaught.

She knew he was going to fuck her hard and fast and rough and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this turned on waiting to take it. In the month before she left for the mission, their lovemaking had been nothing but slow and soft and loving. Over and over, they’d drowned in each other as if they were breakable, as if they would never see one another again. She’d missed this darker side to their passion.

She felt his cock slide between her legs, and whimpered as he rubbed the hard length of his shaft against her wet slit.

“You want it?” he taunted, holding her hips still to stop her from grinding down against him for her own pleasure. “You gonna beg me for it, Nile?”

“Yes,” she panted, not even bothering to resist. “Yes, please, give it to me. Please, I need—” 

He didn’t even wait for her to finish before he shoved himself inside. They both groaned, low and throaty, as he sheathed himself fully on the first thrust.

“So good,” she gasped, struggling to stay upright on her hands and knees. “Fuck, you feel so good. I’ve missed you.”

He rode her fast and hard, slamming his cock into her without mercy. The room filled with the sounds of their labored breaths and moans and the rhythmic clap of her ass slapping against his hips again, again, again—

He came with a guttural growl, shooting his come deep inside her before shoving her off his dick and back down onto her stomach. As he stood behind her, swaying slightly at the force of his orgasm, his cock twitched, spraying a few extra drops onto the backs of her legs and the bedspread. Nile lay there panting, strung out, so close she could only mewl for her own release. She fully expected him to grab her by the ankles, yank her to the edge of the bed, and throw her thighs over his shoulders before diving in headfirst with his tongue. He was pathologically incapable of passing up any opportunity to feast on her cunt, and she was certain he’d take full advantage tonight.

But instead, all she heard was the rustle of tissues being used, his pants being fixed, and the unmistakable sound of a zipper being done up. Heart pounding in a mix of arousal and disbelief, Nile pushed herself up onto one forearm, turning her head to look back at him. He was busy buttoning up his jeans, as if they were somehow finished.

“Book?” she breathed, not understanding what she was seeing. It became clearer as he started to step away. “Hey, you think you can leave me like this?” She raised her voice to a shout: “The fuck do you think you’re doing? Booker!”

“Feeling unsatisfied, love?” He smirked, a wicked glint in his eyes as he backed away. “Why don’t you call your new boyfriend, hm? I’m sure he’d be happy to finish what I started.”

“Sébastien, you utter asshole—” She was tripping over herself and her words as she struggled to get up and yell at the same time. “You piece of absolute sh—”

“Sorry,” he interrupted, gesturing to the door, “but I’ve got to run now. See you in six months, right?”

She stared after him in shock, unable to come up with a response until she heard the door open.

“I’m going to remember this!” she yelled after him. It was the only threat she could think of.

“Oh, mon cœur…” Even with his back turned, she could hear him smile. “I sure hope you do.”

Chapter Text

The silver dress wasn’t meant to be worn with a bra. Nile didn’t think much of this fact until she put it on the night of and then stepped out to meet Booker on the sidewalk. Her nipples went hard immediately, and she knew from the way his eyes dropped and then immediately returned to her face that the reaction was obvious.

She told herself it was just the cool September breeze setting her off.

It wasn’t the way he looked, standing there waiting for her in that dark suit. It wasn’t the perfect line of his jaw or casual sweep of his newly cut hair or the piercing look in his eyes.

It’s just cold outside, she told herself, taking the hand he offered to help her inside as he opened the door to the car. The cold, of course, didn’t explain why she felt the need to keep her legs crossed for the entirety of the twenty-minute drive to the benefit, but thankfully she wasn’t asked to explain her posture. For the most part, they rode in silence, though every time Booker happened to glance her way, Nile felt her nipples tingle, straining against the fabric of her dress.

The night was long and boring and after four hours in heels, Nile’s feet and legs were aching. The targets they were scoping out were not being very helpful, either. Instead of behaving like the monstrous villains the team knew they to be, they were doing their best to put on a show, acting like philanthropic citizens. The boredom was only broken up by moments of anxiety and embarrassment, mostly when she and Booker took to the dance floor to blend in.

Nile had had very little experience slow-dancing in her life, but she did her best to follow his lead. She watched the other women in the crowd, trying to discern how it was that they knew exactly where to put their feet and how to angle their bodies. It wasn’t until she stepped on his foot for the fifth time that he laughed and took her by the hand, pulling her to the edge of the floor.

“You don’t know how to dance at all, do you?” he asked with a smile.

“Not like this,” she admitted, face warm. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt your feet?”

“Ah, I’ve had worse.” She could tell he was lying, but she appreciated the kindness. “Here,” he said, leading her to a bit of open space at the opposite end of the room. “Let me teach you the basics.”

For fifteen minutes they practiced, and while she focused on the steps, he kept an eye on their targets. Still nothing of note there; the others would be disappointed. Near the end of the night, when she finally had the steps down and had gotten through three dances without trodding on his toes, they rejoined the larger crowd of dancers.

When Booker tugged her to his chest on the main floor, Nile had to bite her tongue so she wouldn’t squeak at the friction against her nipples. Was he holding her closer than usual? He had to be. She hadn’t felt this on edge before, when they’d been practicing a moment ago. She could swear as they turned about the room that he was moving closer to her with each step, causing their chests to rub against each other’s. After a few minutes, the stimulation was too much, and she couldn’t help the way her breathing changed, becoming heavier and shorter as they continued dancing.

“Sensitive?” he murmured after a few minutes, and she nodded once. What point was there in hiding it? He obviously knew. Her nipples were so hard they probably felt like daggers to him, even through his suit.

“Very,” she whispered, swallowing hard.

“Well,” he commented, spinning her out and then drawing her back sharply to his chest, “that’s fun.”

In order to stifle the moan that was threatening, Nile tucked her head against his shoulder, like she’d seen the other women do with their partners. It was surprisingly comfortable, in spite of how on edge she felt. She let him lead, and tried to focus on anything except her want for him, pulsing from the twin points of her chest and deep within her legs.

“May I ask,” he began quietly as they turned, “are they always like this?”

Nile lifted her head cautiously from his shoulder, feeling utterly exposed under his close gaze. “For as long as I can remember, they’ve always been… really sensitive,” she answered carefully. His eyes watched her, his face serious as ever. She couldn’t help but think that he didn’t look appeased. She swallowed, hoping she wasn’t ruining everything when she added, “But they only stay hard like this if I’m… especially aroused.”

“So you’re aroused right now?”

“Yes,” she whispered. There was no shame anymore; she was too far gone for shame.

They were still dancing, but only because he was putting forth the effort. She was simply being twirled about. It was impossible to look away from his eyes as he weighed what to say next.

“Am I arousing you, Nile?” he asked finally.

“Yes,” she whispered again. Her stomach felt like it was going to drop out of her body.

His serious face split in a relieved smile. 

“Oh, I hoped it was me,” he whispered. “I was scared you were like this for everyone.”

“I’m not,” she replied urgently. It was suddenly very important that he knew that. “Booker, it’s never been like this for me, not with anyone else.”

“We should go,” he said quickly, and even though the benefit wasn’t technically wasn’t over, Nile nodded. They both knew this mission had been a bust as far as tactics were concerned.

In the car, they waited until the dark partition rose between them and the driver before he reached over and pushed the straps of her silver dress off her shoulders, exposing her breasts and her hard little nipples, finally, to his hungry gaze.

“Oh, Nile,” he whispered, watching her chest rise and fall with each heaving breath. Her nipples were dark and thick, standing tall and eager.

She gasped aloud when he brushed his thumb very gently against the tip of her right nipple, her whole body reacting to his touch.

“Good Lord,” he whispered in awe, his eyes rising to her face. “You weren’t exaggerating about being sensitive, were you?”

She shook her head, biting down hard on her lip to hold in any other noises that might escape as he played with her.

“Stop that,” he murmured, brushing his thumb against her lower lip until her teeth released it. “I want to hear the sounds you make when I touch you.”

“I don’t think I can be quiet,” she warned.

“Good. I don’t want quiet,” he replied, pressing his thumbnail experimentally against one dark nipple, driving it back into the soft flesh of her breast, causing her to shiver and squeak. “How do you like them to be touched, Nile? Can I pinch them? Or will that make you come too fast?”

Nile sucked in a breath at the very idea of such a thing. Even with her nipples as sensitive as they were, she didn't think it was even possible to climax from nipple stimulation alone. She’d always needed clitoral stimulation to come. Her heart twisted a little. Would he be disappointed if she didn’t come for him the way he wanted?

“Booker, I—I don’t think I can come just from… that kind of touch.”

“We could find out,” he offered. His fingers swirled around her areola, making her tense. “But only if you want to, of course.”

“Oh,” she released a breath. “I want to.”

They didn’t make it three blocks before she shattered for him.

“I’m curious,” he mused afterwards, smiling as he watched her catch her breath. “How many times do you think I can make you come tonight, just by playing with your nipples?”

Chapter Text

“I don’t know what you’re so nervous about,” Booker told her, only half paying attention to her face on screen as he went about organizing yet another bookshelf. He was always organizing bookshelves during their their video calls. “Dirty talking isn’t that difficult. Just tell him you want his cock.”

“Jesus, Book—I am not using that word!”

“Well, you can’t say ‘penis,’ Nile,” Booker sighed. “It’s just not sexy. Neither is ‘dick,’ really. You’re too American to pull off ‘prick.’”

“Well, I can’t say—” Nile broke off, turning her head away from the screen, too embarrassed to even look at him.

It was times like these that made her grateful he lived halfway across the world in exile and was forbidden from talking to the others. Technically, he was forbidden from talking to her, too, but she took pity on him a few years after his banishment, reached out to check in, and now they had semi-regular video calls where they rambled on about anything under the sun.

Today, she’d made the mistake of mentioning she was dating a guy who was intent on expressing his desire for her through X-rated texts. And then she’d gone and made the second mistake of admitting that she never knew how to respond to such texts.

And now Booker was grinning at her, his stacks of books forgotten as he zeroed in instead on her embarrassment. “Go on,” he encouraged. “What is it you can’t say?”

“Oh, shut up,” she snapped, gathering up her braids for something to do. She didn’t have a hair tie around her wrist, so she ended up pulling them into the shape of a ponytail only to have to let them go. She really needed to start thinking things through more when it came to these video calls.

“It’s not that scary of a word, Nile. Think of it as a rooster.”

“It is not a rooster.”

He snickered, turning back to his books. “You’re being such a baby about this, and I don’t understand why. Your generation has it so easy, you know. All you have to do is type out the words and hit send. You’ve barely even interacting with the person. Back in my day—”

“Okay, grandpa.”

“Back in my day,” he continued loudly, “we actually had to actually say the words to each other. Face to face. No hiding behind screens or relying on the internet for inspiration. We had to think up every word we said, all on our own, and then watch the other person’s face as we said them in real time.”

“Wow,” Nile commented dryly. “How difficult for you. And what did your old-timey dirty talk sound like, huh? ‘Please, fair maiden, might I fondle your bosom’?”

He snorted. “Believe it or not, the words tits and cunt existed in the eighteenth century.” Nile felt something in her gut twinge at hearing him say those words. “I was more than capable of telling my wife how much I appreciated those parts of her body, among others.”

Nile nodded along, doing her best to keep her expression neutral even as she burned with curiosity. She could still remember the grief in his face the first time he’d ever told her what it had been like to outlive his sons. He had rarely spoken of them in the years since. But he was not nearly so reluctant when it came to his wife, she soon discovered. Whenever he talked about her, Nile could see glimpses of what a happy life he’d led, and what a happy man he’d been, when they had been together. Sometimes she couldn’t resist pressing for a little more detail.

“So you… you and your wife liked that kind of thing?” Nile asked carefully. “Talking like… that?”

“Doesn’t everyone? I mean, sure,” he allowed with a shrug in her direction, “it can be awkward at first. But once you know the person, how their mind works, how their body reacts… Finding the right words to heighten their pleasure can be extremely rewarding.”

Only he, who read books the way some people breathed air, would find the proper use of words in bed rewarding.

Then again, Nile reasoned, feeling herself get a little warm, if he was good enough at it… She crossed her legs under her desk. She was sorely tempted to ask if he’d ever made his wife come just with his words. It sounded impossible, and yet… somehow, she wouldn’t put it past him.

“You never told me what your go-to line was,” Nile heard herself say. "What did you guys talk about way back when?” She knew she was treading into unforgivably intimate territory here, but she couldn’t seem to stop. And judging by the smirk spreading across on his face, he didn’t seem to mind.

“It was the 1700s,” he reminded her. “What do you think we talked about?”

“Um…” Nile hesitated, confusion clouding her interest. Why was he asking that question like she was supposed to know the answer? Why would she, a woman born in the 1990s, have any idea what people who lived in the 1700s were titillated by? Did they have orgies back then? They must’ve been so deprived of entertainment; maybe sex in the town square was a common fantasy?

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “What?”

“Sons, Nile. We got off talking about how we were going to make sons together.”

Oh. Nile’s stomach swooped low, as if her feet had been knocked out from under her, and it took her a second to recover.

“Sons,” she heard herself clarify, “but not daughters?”

He laughed. “Really? You’re going to rake me over the coals for that?”

“Just an observation.”

“Oh, come on. It was over two hundred years ago; we had different priorities than people do today.”

“Ah, the ‘different time’ defense. A real classic.”

He shook his head, but she saw him smile as he turned back to his books. She let him sort through them in silence, just barely holding back from asking if such talk still turned him on. As her mind wandered, Nile had a sudden flash of the two of them in bed—him on top and pressing deep inside her, murmuring about how beautiful she’d look carrying his child.

Her whole body went hot all at once, and she had to look away—at the wall, out the window, anywhere except at his face to remind herself of reality. Where in the world had that fantasy come from? And why was it making her feel like this?

“So, do you know what you’re going to text him next time?”

Nile jumped at the sound of Booker’s voice, her eyes finding his through the camera. She hoped the nature of her distraction wasn’t clear on her face.

“Um, sort of,” Nile lied, glad he couldn’t see the desperate way she was squeezing her thighs together beneath her desk. “But I might need more advice down the line, if… if you don’t mind.”

“You know me,” Booker said, oblivious to the way her eyes tracked him as he turned back to his stacks of novels. “Always happy to help.”

Chapter Text

Booker was scanning through yet another shelf on Russian history when Nile came up behind him and slung her arms over his shoulders, pulling at him impatiently. Without looking away from the shelves, he tilted his chin to press a kiss to her arm.

“Just a minute,” he murmured, tracing a finger along the spines, scanning decimal by decimal as he crouched down to examine a lower shelf. “It’s here somewhere. I just need a quick look and then we’ll go, I promise.” 

A quick look, sure. They had been wandering through the stacks of this university library for the last two hours and Nile, for her part, was sick of it. Why he had to run these sorts of endless errands when they had time off together was beyond her. After so many decades, though, she had stopped complaining. Recently, she’d thought up a much more useful alternative.

“You know what I’m thinking about right now?” she whispered in his ear.

He wasn’t listening. He was never listening when there were books at his fingertips.

“You told me once,” she continued, “how you’d always fantasized about having sex in a library.”

He froze, still bent at the knees. And then all at once, he shot back up to his full height. Nile nearly fell over, trying to avoid his skull crashing into hers. His hand gripping her arm kept her close.

“This is university library, Nile,” he reminded her in a strained voice. “There are cameras all over the place.”

“Yeah, and how often are they checked?” She smiled, enjoying the pained look on his face. “Come on,” she whispered, pressing her chest close against his he could feel how hard her nipples were through her dress and know that she wasn’t wearing a bra anymore. The realization caused his eyes to flutter closed. When he cursed, he looked like an animal caught in at trap, and so she took pity on him, taking his chin in hand and kissing him. Then she leaned up on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear, “I took off my underwear in the bathroom, too. Wanted to give you easy access.”

He groaned, deep in the back of his throat.

“I want you to fuck me against the stacks,” she said, taking his hand. “Let’s find ourselves a dark corner.”

They ended up on the deserted lower level, back in the far corner where the university kept outdated magazines and other flimsy bits of paper no one who grew up with internet access would ever bother touching. They made three laps of the stacks to make sure no one was around before Nile found a shelf of old encyclopedias, deemed it sturdy enough to support what was coming to it, and leaned back against it. She watched with a grin as Booker came close, bracing himself with one arm against the shelf as his mouth descended on hers with surprising fierceness. Nile moaned softly, pressing her hips up into his. She could feel him getting hard, and she smiled when he didn’t hesitate before slipping a hand under the hem of her dress.

“Damn it, Nile,” he muttered against her mouth.

She smiled, sighing softly as he slid two fingers easily into her damp opening. “Wanted to give you easy access,” she reminded him, and the words were hardly out of her mouth before he was reaching down and hefting her up in his arms.

She just barely managed to stifle a shout of laughter, throwing her arms around his shoulders as he pressed her up against the stacks with his pelvis, using the pressure to hold her in place while he worked the button and zipper of his pants.

“I must be insane,” he muttered under his breath, and Nile just smiled, pulling him close for another kiss.

She wrapped her legs around his backside, arching forward to take him in. He bent his head to her chest, needing a moment to recalibrate. And then, remembering she’d shed her bra earlier, he nosed open the neck of her dress to expose her breast and suck at her nipple. Nile moaned quietly, pressing herself into him—into his mouth, his hands, his body.

“More,” she demanded, and he obliged.

The shelf rattled and shook as he started to move and they both froze, wary of toppling books or worse, some kind of domino effect with falling shelves. But the encyclopedias stayed in their places, the shelf stayed upright, and so they kept going. Booker tried to keep things slow and measured, but it was impossible. Nile had her bare legs wrapped around his waist, her hands clutching at the shelf behind her for support, and there was the very real possibility they could get caught—and even if there weren’t, he wouldn’t be able to take his time with her like this, open and eager and wet for him, the smell of old books mixing with her perfume and sweat. It didn’t take long before he neared his climax, and Nile, rubbing at her clit with the free hand that wasn’t gripping the shelf, came with him.

They came down slowly, panting and sweating in the heat of the lower level and the aftermath of their exertions. When he pulled out, Nile shuddered, feeling the mix of their releases between her legs. She scolded herself for not thinking to grab extra toilet paper from the bathroom earlier. Booker set her down carefully, fixing her dress to cover her bare breast before tucking himself away and pulling up his pants.

Nile couldn’t help but twine her hands around the back of his neck as he did so, hugging him to her. They had been having sex for hundreds of years, and somehow, she felt closer to him every time. He smiled like he knew that, and felt it too. He kissed her hard on the mouth, hard enough that she fell back against the shelf again, moaning softly.

“God, I love you,” he murmured, taking her face in both his hands, pulling back only so he could look her in the eyes. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

She grinned, kissing him again. “Love you too. Now, let’s go.”

He took her hand, tugging her close as they made their way up the stairs and back to the surface. They were heading past the check-out desk and almost to the exit when a stern voice called out.

“Sir. Ma’am. If you could step over here, please.”

Nile threw a smile at the clerk without stopping. “Oh, we don’t have anything to check out. We were just browsing.” She tipped her head fondly at Booker beside her. “This one had research to do.”

“I don’t need to speak to you about checkouts, ma’am,” the clerk replied firmly, and it was then that Nile really looked at her, and became aware of the campus security guard standing right beside her. “My colleague, however, would like to discuss another matter with you both…”

Nile could feel Booker’s hand around hers, squeezing in a death grip now, but she refused to look over at him. She could feel his spent come, dripping slowly down the inside of her right thigh, and she knew it couldn’t be long before it slid out past the hemline of her dress, just another bit of damning evidence. The security guard was stepping towards them, saying something about wanting to speak in private, and making it very clear that he’d already contacted the city police force.

“I think,” Booker whispered urgently in French, “now would be a very good time for us to run.”

Nile nodded slowly, doing her best to discreetly slip off her flip-flops as the security guard neared. When the man reached out to grab her arm, she took off for the exit with Booker sprinting at her side.

Chapter Text

She was going to boil in this bathtub if he didn’t keep his hands off of her. She told him as much, but he merely smiled and groped at her breasts beneath the water. She arched against him, her hot moans adding to the steam in the little room.

It was snowing outside, a bleak December evening in Vancouver, but you’d never know from where they were sitting. It felt more like a sauna than a bathroom, mostly due to the fact that whenever the water began to cool, Booker drained it while adding in more and more hot water. It was such a waste, but Nile couldn’t find it in herself to care. Not when he was touching her like this.

“This is torture,” she accused at one point, so overwhelmed by the heat and his touch and her own desire that she thought she really might pass out. “You’re going to kill me.”

“So?” He chuckled in her ear, and then sucked at a spot just below it, making her shiver. “You’ll come back,” he assured her, and she whined at the thought, turning her head into his chest as if she could find solace there.

He wrapped his arms around her, running his big hands all over her wet, soapy skin. She could feel his erection at her back, so hard and rigid, and she wished he’d put it inside her already. She was ready. She’d been ready for ages.

But he seemed very intent on driving her insane before satisfying her. How he didn’t drive himself insane in the process, she had no idea.

They’d been in Vancouver for a week already—it was the first trip they’d taken together as an honest-to-goodness couple—and yet they had barely left the hotel. The plan had been to go out and explore the city in the winter, for he knew how she missed her frozen hometown, but so far they had only gone outside for meals. They spent the rest of their time in their high-rise hotel suite, making love on every surface that could hold them and even a few that couldn’t.

Nile knew they should be doing more, should be interacting with the world like normal people, but there was that voice in the back of her head telling her she could always do that tomorrow. Next week. Next year. After all, they had the rest of their very long lives to explore the world around them. It felt much more important, at this moment, to take the time to explore each other.

Nile could feel his massive thighs bracketing her body, and she ran her hands over them, squeezing the muscled flesh until she felt him twitch, too. She smiled against his chest, dipping her head down until she could lap at one of his nipples with her tongue. When she bit it, he grunted, his hips jerking up into hers.

“Who's the torturer now?” he muttered in her ear, and she couldn’t help but swell with pride. It was still rare for her to be able to spot the gaps in his armored discipline, let alone manage to successfully exploit them.

She laid her tongue against his nipple, soothing the bite, before twisting her body beneath the water. He tried to hold her in place—he so favored having her back to his front, and the inherent control it offered—but his hands were wet and her body was slippery and it was easy for her to escape his grasp. Easy to sink back down onto his lap, and tease his body the way he’d been teasing hers for hours. He deserved it, after all.

Chapter Text

The first text came just before 9 AM, as the opening speaker was being welcomed to the stage. Amidst the rustle of polite applause, Sébastien stole a look at his phone before silencing it.

I miss you.

He smiled faintly at Nile’s message, even as his heart twisted a little in his chest. This was the first work trip he’d taken since they’d gotten married five months ago, and the distance was a strain on them both. Two weeks was a long time to be gone, and every day it felt longer.

I miss you too, he typed back quickly. Then he put his phone away, faced forward, and didn’t look at it again for four hours.

By the time they broke for lunch at 1 PM and he had a chance to look at his phone, the screen was filled with texts and calls. For a second, his mind went fuzzy, his heart filling with fear that something terrible had happened, but then his eyes managed to focus and he realized the messages weren’t dire. They were just impatient. A very specific kind of impatient.

Thought you might want to see what you’re missing, one text read.

My fingers never feel as good as yours, another lamented.

Are you really going to make me come all by myself? the last one asked.

Interspersed between the texts were pictures—chaste ones, at first, of their bed and her head against the pillow. But it didn’t take long before she was featuring her panties, then her bare breasts, then her hand between her spread legs, with her underwear around her ankles…

Sébastien started moving towards the bathrooms without even thinking, as if his cock had somehow taken control of his feet and legs in addition to his brain. He made the mistake of playing the voicemail she’d left while he was shouldering his way through the crowd, and her breathy, indignant voice filled his ear:

“Can’t… believe—” she panted “—you let me… go to… voicemail.”

That last word was said with such a huff that he knew she’d been rubbing at her clit as she said it. It took everything in him not to sprint the last hundred meters to the bathrooms. Her voice reverberated in his mind, driving his blood up. When he reached for the door of the single-occupancy unisex bathroom, he felt the handle give as his body flooded with relief.

He locked it behind him immediately, already dialing her back. He heard the line ring once, twice… He prayed she would answer. She couldn’t leave him like this. So what if he hadn’t answered her texts or calls? He was at work. She should have—

“Tell me you’re alone,” she demanded when the line connected.

“Alone,” he grunted, cradling his cell between his shoulder and his ear as he fumbled with his pants. His cock was already half-hard, straining against the fabric of his boxer briefs. “Alone, in the bathroom, and really fucking worked up because of you.”

“Because of me?” she feigned. “I can’t imagine why.”

“Har-har,” he deadpanned. He made his way over to the toilet in the corner, hand wrapped firmly around his cock. “You going to tell me what you’re doing right now?” he asked his wife.

“Me?” She sighed luxuriantly. In his head, he could see her spread out in their bed, arms thrown wide over her head as she stretched. “Oh, you know. Just finishing up some work. Making a list for the store. Thinking of sorting through—”

“Nile.”

She giggled at the steel in his voice. “Impatient, baby?”

“You’re lucky I’m a thousand miles away, or I’d—”

“I’m back in our bed,” she interrupted in a whisper, and when he closed his eyes, he could see her there. Lean and beautiful, just like he woke up to nearly every morning. “I got too warm, so I kicked off the sheets. I’m lying here naked, in the sun, thinking of you. Missing you.”

“You been touching yourself?” His hand was moving rapidly up and down his cock, and he hoped she wasn’t expecting much because he knew already he wouldn’t last long.

“You saw the pictures, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” he bit out. “But they weren’t enough. Neither was that damn message you left me.”

“Enjoyed that, did you?” He knew she was grinning on the other end of the line. “I guess you could say I’ve been touching myself…” She let out a soft sigh and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to see her in his mind, very much wishing he’d done a video call so he wouldn’t have to imagine. “But I’m doing something a little different than usual. I’ve got your pillow between my legs.”

“Fuck.” He groaned, stroking himself faster. “Nile…”

“You want to know what I’m doing with it, baby?” He grunted in affirmation. He could hear her breathing grow heavier as she said, “I’ve been riding it, rubbing myself against it, wishing it were your face between my thighs.”

“Soon,” he told her. He could feel his balls tightening, his body preparing for release. “Soon, I’ll be there. I’ll eat you out until you beg me to stop.”

“And? What else?” Her breathing was labored now, and he could swear he heard their bed creaking in the background as she worked herself over. “What else are you going to do to me?”

“I’m going to fuck you,” he promised, teeth gritted against the mounting pressure. “I’m going to fuck you over the fucking kitchen table, because we can’t make it to the bedroom.”

“Gonna make me come?” she demanded, and when he told her yes and how, he heard her break. He followed soon after, his mind full of her: her, bent over that old table of theirs; her, shattering on his cock; her, crying out his name the way she always did when the pleasure became too much.

Like she was doing right now, half a word away, as she humped that damn pillow while listening to his voice on the phone. When he asked her, in the woozy aftermath, if she’d made a mess like he had, she just laughed.

“You’ll see when you get home,” she told him. “I see no reason to wash the sheets between now and the end of the week, do you?”

“Nile…”

“Go back to work, baby. I’ll be here waiting when you get home.”

She hung up then, and he pocketed his phone before throwing his head back, screwing up his face in lieu of screaming. He wouldn’t be home for another four and a half days. He had no idea how he was supposed to make it that long.

Chapter Text

It was so hot outside that Nile worried the ice cream shop at the end of the street might be a mirage. The team had been wandering around this tiny Southwest town all morning, trying to find an escape from the punishing heat ahead of their scheduled departure in the evening. The ice cream shop hadn’t been there when they’d walked by before, had it?

It was only when Nile got within fifteen feet of the establishment that she decided it had to be real. It felt like an oasis in the very real desert they were in, and so she made a beeline for the door, calling the others after her. Eager for the air conditioning, she didn’t notice the looks the others exchanged before following after her.

The shop was small, barely big enough to fit all six of them at once, but the two teenagers on staff did their best to accommodate. Nile perused the menu, pleasantly surprised to see that a place this small in a town this nondescript offered more than three flavors. She went with a peanut butter chocolate cone, savoring the chance to lick it nice and slow while still in the air conditioning.

It wasn’t until they were back outside, ambling down what amounted to the tiny town’s main street, that Nile realized her mistake. She fell into step beside Booker, as she usually did in such situations. With the others coupled off, she’d found herself gravitating towards him ever since he came back from exile—because she was tired of being alone, at first, and now because she simply enjoyed his company. He was usually a quiet companion, but whenever he spoke, it was always worth hearing. She’d found over the years that he had a biting, almost lethal wit, but you only heard it if you were patient and listened close.

Today he had nothing to say, but that didn’t mean his mouth wasn’t at work.

Nile nearly tripped over her own feet the first time she glanced over and saw the way he was licking that ice cream cone. She was grateful the others were walking in front of them so no one saw the stricken look on her face as she watched his tongue at work. There were the usual long, broad licks with the flat of his tongue, but interspersed with those were twisting, curling flicks that made her ice-cream-filled stomach go molten.

It didn’t help that he’d chosen strawberry. Watching him wrap his tongue and lips around all that pink, sucking it into his mouth and turning it into a dripping mess…

Nile forced her gaze forward again and took a huge, freezing bite of her ice cream to distract herself. The cold went to her head, and as her nerves pinched, she told herself she was imagining things. Surely he was eating ice cream like a normal person. There was nothing sexual about it; she was just being crazy. The heat was getting to her.

Besides, she reminded herself sternly, women weren’t supposed to notice these types of things. Wasn’t that a predominately male thing to do, watch the way someone ate food and associate it with sex? Bananas and hot dogs and… Jesus, Book, Nile wanted to scream, unable to stop sneaking glances at him and his tongue acrobatics, do you have any idea what you’re doing?

She wasn’t crazy, she decided. He was crazy. And this country needed to broaden its definition of public indecency.

Finally, they came up on a park, and found some open shade beneath a few trees. Nile hung back as the others surged froward, pausing to toss the watery remains of her ice cream in the trash. She’d gotten so distracted by Booker that majority of her cone had melted in her hands, and her stomach was too twisted up now to enjoy what was left. 

Booker, she noticed with a furtive glance, was still licking at his ice cream cone like he was being paid to arouse the public.

Nile watched the way his tongue curled around the sweaty pink mounds, feeling her mouth go dry and her insides tingle at the sight. She tried to tell herself that she’d react the same if it were Joe acting like this, or Quynh, but she knew that wasn’t true. There was something about Booker, something that had shifted these last few years… She noticed him all the time now, and not only because he apparently liked to simulate sex while eating frozen dairy products. She liked him. More than liked him. She just hadn’t figured out quite what she wanted from him or how to ask for it.

The ice cream excursion hadn’t helped matters. Nile couldn’t stop staring, and she had no idea how she was supposed to look him in the face after this. How were they supposed to carry on a conversation when all she could think about was how very flexible and hardworking his tongue was? When Booker started licking at the ice cream that had dribbled down his hand, sucking the stickiness off his fingers, Nile had to turn fully away.

“It’s obscene.”

Nile jumped at the sound of Andy’s voice, not having heard the woman walk up behind her.

“The way he eats ice cream,” Andy continued. “It’s obscene, I know. It’s why we never get it when we’re all together.”

“You knew about this? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Andy shrugged. “Everyone deserves to be blindsided the first time, I think.” Behind her sunglasses, Nile could easily see the mirth in the woman’s eyes. “Plus,” Andy added in a low voice as she leaned closer, “I thought you’d want a little preview. Since you seem so very interested.”

Nile felt her face grow hot, and she knew it wasn’t from the sun.

“Excuse me?” she managed.

But Andy was already walking away.

“Hey, Book,” she called, loud enough for the others to hear. “You got a minute? Nile’s curious about your ice cream preferences.”

Chapter Text

It was just after ten PM when Sébastien mentioned that it felt like bedtime. Nile immediately agreed, tossing aside the book she’d been pretending to read ever since dinner. But when she got to her feet, he seemed to have reconsidered.

“You go ahead,” he told her, “I’ll join you soon.”

His voice was casual, but Nile knew this was the first move in what was sure to be a long evening. And as much as she expected it—as much as she deserved it, after what she’d pulled this afternoon—she still wanted to cry foul. Instead, she simply smiled, went back to their bedroom, and began taking off her clothes. She kept the door open, because she knew he liked to hear her get ready. She tried to draw it out, but the routine never took long.

In a few minutes, she was kneeling on all fours their bed, wearing nothing but the lacy black panties he loved so much. No bra. Nothing else. She knelt and she waited. She was running high on arousal, but she knew better than to touch herself. He’d be able to tell, if she disrupted the spread of her own slick or the precise layering of her wet folds. He was always able to tell, and he always made her pay for it.

Soon turned out to be over an hour later. Nile thought she was going to go insane by the time he finally crossed the threshold into their bedroom. She straightened up immediately, even though she ached from all the waiting, rounding her back and pushing her ass out the way he liked. Over the pounding of her heart, she struggled to trace his slow footsteps across the wood floor.

“Do you want to tell me why you’re on display like this?” he asked, and she swallowed, doing her best to stay calm as she explained.

She’d teased him today, in front of his friends. Touched him underneath the table during lunch, partly because she was bored and partly because she liked the way he flushed when he was aroused, but mostly because—maybe entirely because—she knew it would end like this: with her bent submissively over their bed, waiting to receive a good, hard spanking.

While she explained, he stood behind her, rubbing his hands lazily over her lace-covered ass. He dragged his thumbs between the cleft of her cheeks and stroked a couple fingers in between her thighs, but he didn’t explore beneath the fabric.

“Tell me,” he murmured once she’d finished, bending over to press kisses to her lower back, “Do you want me to make you cry tonight, love?”

Nile shivered, the same way she always did on the rare nights he offered. Usually she deliberated over the question, but tonight the answer was immediate: “No.”

She’d waited long enough. She wanted her punishment, she wanted his cock, and then she wanted to sleep, all in that order. Maybe next weekend he could make her cry, if he was still up for it.

“All right,” he said, pressing one last kiss to her skin.

When he pulled away, all softness was gone. She wasn’t sad to see it go.

“You were a very bad girl today.”

Nile squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to react so early. She’d been dripping for hours, sure, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t have to work to pull a sound out of her.

“Do you know what happens to bad girls, Nile?”

She shook her head, but only because she knew he was waiting for a response.

“Bad girls get punished,” he answered, and then without warning, the flat of his hand landed on her ass with a loud crack.

Her body jolted forward, but Nile managed to keep her lower lip between her teeth, silencing any sound.

“Bad girls get spanked until they learn to behave.”

She shut her eyes as a second blow landed, in exactly the same place as the first. Her skin was starting to sting beneath the lace, just the way she liked.

“Are you going to behave, Nile?”

A third smack landed, harder than the first two, and she couldn’t help the tiny whimper that escaped. Her pussy was uncomfortably wet, her clit throbbing painfully against the confines of her tight panties. She fisted the bedspread beneath her and pushed her ass back into him as a signal for more.

“Or,” he growled, “are you going to keep being a naughty little thing that I need to discipline every goddamn night?”

He hit her again, and again, and again, until she was moaning freely and dripping down her shaking thighs, but still he didn’t let up. Her reminded her with every hit that she’d brought this on herself—because she was greedy and naughty and spoiled. Because she couldn’t control herself in public, not even for a couple hours, before begging for his cock. Every word of his made her wetter, every hit made her hotter, and Nile clutched the bedspread as if hanging on for dear life. Her ass stung and then ached from the onslaught, her core pulsing in need of relief, but she held out as long as she could until eventually even she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Stop,” she panted finally, and he did at once, his hand freezing in midair.

She dropped down from her hands to her forearms, and then her whole torso collapsed against the mattress. She let her knees spread wide until only her ass was left up in the air, nearly vibrating with pain. It felt so good and so bad all at once that she couldn’t speak at first.

But she knew he was waiting for a verdict, knew he would worry if she didn’t say anything right away, so she managed to get out, “Outdid yourself, babe."

His hands were on her lower back again, big and soothing now as they splayed themselves over her skin. She whimpered softly as he began to remove her panties, but they both knew it needed to be done. He sat on the bed and bent over to press kisses to her abused flesh, massaging the skin until she relaxed and finally turned onto her side.

“So,” he murmured, lying down beside her and pressing a kiss to her forehead, “are you ready to be a good girl for me again?”

“Hm, depends…” Nile smiled, fingering one of the buttons on his collared shirt. She loved how he always stayed fully dressed when they played these games. It made everything feel that much dirtier. “Remind me, what does being good get me, exactly?”

“Mm, lots of things,” Sébastien replied. He brushed his knuckles against the underside of one of her breasts before tugging lightly on a nipple to make her arch forward. As she did so, he bent down and captured her mouth with his, kissing her messily before answering: “Good girls get played with in nice ways. Good girls get their pussy eaten. Good girls get orgasms.”

“Hmm…”

Nile pretended to think, all the while grinding her groin against his. The friction of his clothes against her bare skin was frustratingly delicious, as was the sight of his hard cock hidden beneath his pants. She hoped that when he fucked her tonight, at the least the first time, he would stay as fully dressed as possible.

“If good girls don’t get spanked,” Nile decided finally, “then I don’t think I want to be one.”

And just for that, he smacked the side of her thigh, his wolfish grin matching her own.

Chapter Text

It happened on an otherwise dull Friday evening. Sébastien came home from work, had leftovers for dinner, watched TV for an hour, and then read until his eyes started to hurt. When he got up to turn off the lights, he thought of little else except how much he was looking forward to sleeping in the next morning.

Before he went off to bed, he spared a glance out his living room window towards his neighbor’s apartment across the courtyard. They’d lived on the same floor for two years now, but they hadn’t exchanged more than a few dozen words in total. This was partially because they kept different schedules and rarely ran into each other, and partially because when they did cross paths, Sébastien became so tongue-tied that he couldn’t manage more than a Hello or some inane comment about the weather.

It was strange, being a fully grown man harboring a secret crush, but that’s what he was.

And so that Friday night, he couldn’t help but steal a glance her way. It was his evening ritual; his way of saying goodnight without uttering a word. Usually she was focused on a movie or had her head buried in a book when he looked over. But this night, when he chanced a glance out his living room window, he was met by the unmistakable sight of his neighbor touching herself.

Sébastien froze, unable to believe his own eyes at first, even though he knew in his gut there was no other explanation. She was lying on her couch, laptop propped up between her knees, her lower half covered by a blanket, beneath which her right hand very conspicuously hidden. Arousal burst in his stomach like a struck match, flaring hot and fast as he watched.

He focused in on her right shoulder, watching the way it moved up and down, and the way the red blanket covering her lap would rhythmically go taut and then slack in response. He imagined her fingers, sliding around in her own slick. Was she fingering herself? Rubbing at her clit? Or did she prefer using a vibrator or a dildo? He was dying—starving, it felt like—to know. He stared at her face, watching the way it grimaced and twitched as she masturbated.

He should look away. He could feel his cock hardening in his pants, and he knew he needed to go away, else he’d start touching himself in full view of his window, too.

Would she like that? His stomach did a little jolt at the thought. She must, he thought to himself, for why else would she put on a show like this? Why would she lay out on her couch, with her lights still on, and masturbate in front of a window that directly faced his apartment?

He shifted his weight, but it did nothing to relieve the pressure in his groin. If anything, it just made it worse. He pressed a hand against himself on stupid instinct, as if doing so would cause his erection to die down instead of perking up further.

On the couch, she was moving her hips, throwing her head back, really getting into it, and nearly losing grip on her laptop in the process.

All of his lights were off—could she see him in the dark? Did it even matter? He was squeezing his cock through his jeans now, all self-control gone. Her shirt had ridden up a bit, and he could see a swath of dark brown skin on display and he nearly groaned. He wanted to touch her so bad. He wanted to be in the room with her.

He wanted so many things, things he knew he’d never get, but the one thing he wanted most of all—watching her face when she came—he got.

He got to see the way her eyebrows crushed together, her forehead pinching as if in pain. He watched her mouth open in a silent scream, imagining she was saying his name. He saw one of her legs fall off the side of the couch and onto the ground, taking much of the blanket with it.

He was still watching when her eyes opened, and she immediately turned her head towards his apartment. Like she’d expected nothing less than to see him standing there, watching from his window. When their eyes met, her lips parted in a wide smile.

Chapter Text

There was no turning back once he realized she got turned on when they fought.

He could end any argument simply by shoving his hand between her legs, and she hated him for it, and herself too. Nothing she said or did could supersede that one infuriating, humiliating truth. If she had more self-control—more self-respect—she might have been able to resist. But her body seemed to be intent on betraying her mind at every opportunity, and he never failed to capitalize on each.

He could render her helpless merely by using the power of his own weight against hers, and she loved and hated it in equal measure. Loved being trapped. Hated being trapped. Loved the way he whispered taunts in her ear—Tell me to stop, baby, and I’ll stop—and hated the way he stuck to those promises, and let her go whenever she told him to.

She didn’t know how to ask for what she really wanted—she knew it would be yet another line they could never come back from, but a more dangerous one this time—and so she didn’t try.

Instead, she kept picking fights with him, over nothing, working them both up to screaming-and-shoving fights until it turned into this, every time:

Him pressing her against the nearest hard surface, be it the floor or the wall or the table—

Her ripping through his clothes, scratching down his chest and back until she broke his skin and drew blood—

Him snarling in her ear about how easy she was, how needy her cunt got when she was mad, and how they both knew the only thing that would set her right was his cock—

They swore and snapped and bit at each other, pulling at hair and pinching skin until they were little better than animals, trying to force their prey into submission. It wasn’t lovemaking, what they were doing. It was so far from it and yet—somehow there was still something like love in that final moment, when they came together and found a moment’s peace in each other’s arms.

It never lasted long.

Neither of them were very keen on truces. She’d always lord her victories over him, proud to the point of obnoxious, and even when he won, he couldn’t help but reach for the last word, getting in an extra blow even after the bell had rung.

That’s it, baby, he’d whisper, his breath hot against her damp skin as he held her, his post-coital kisses treacherous in their gentleness. Always so nice and quiet for me once you’ve had a good fucking. Isn’t that right?

She’d screw her eyes shut, hating the way his words feel like praise, hating even more how she loved getting that praise. For appearance’s sake, she knew she should argue with him. She should smack him, like she did the first time—teach him a lesson for talking about her like that. But she couldn’t bring herself to. She was exhausted, firstly, and secondly—oh, his voice sounded so sexy when it murmured those ugly things to her. And his lips felt so soft. He had always been so very good at knowing what she wanted even when—especially when—she couldn’t bring herself to ask aloud.

She’d find her self-respect again. She knew she would because she always did. They’d go about their lives and she’d let that anger build slowly until it was ready to explode again—in a day or a week or a month—and he’d be there as always to take it, and to give back some of his own.

Chapter Text

They would argue for years afterward about who started it. Nile contended that it was his fault—he was the one forever finding excuses to walk around shirtless when she was nearby. Booker refused to take the blame; so what if he liked to be shirtless when it was warm out—he wasn’t the one going around touching people.

Though she denied the claim as often and as loudly as she could, Nile privately admitted that, fine, by that logic, maybe she did make the first so-called move. But that was only because he wouldn’t. Because he kept walking through the team’s safe houses bare chested, because he kept staring at her across the dinner table, because he was always there, doing everything and yet nothing, and she just couldn’t take the tension anymore.

So she touched him sometimes, just to let him know that she wouldn’t mind if he made a move of his own. They were light, casual touches at first—a hand on his back when she was trying to squeeze past a tight spot, a touch on his arm when they were talking. When that didn’t manifest into anything, she found more ways be near him—while they were sitting at dinner or walking down the street or pairing up for missions. She was trying to be obvious without being too obvious—she didn’t need the others noticing—and she thought that after a couple weeks, he’d take the huge hint that was her constant presence and suggest they spend some time on their own, just the two of them. They could get a drink, or maybe even have dinner.

But he never offered.

Instead, he started to steal touches whenever she was near too. It was little things at first. His hand lingering on hers as they packed weapons. His leg pressed against hers whenever they shared adjacent seats on the couch. Innocent touches that could be nothing at all—if only they weren’t coming from him, if only she weren’t already primed to notice every little thing he did.

Slowly, he stopped being casual and started being more deliberate. Once, while they were sitting next to each other during team dinner, he happened to knock his knife to the floor. And when he bent down to retrieve it, Nile felt the back of his hand travel nearly the entire length of her bare leg, from ankle to thigh, before withdrawing. She had been wearing shorts that day, and it didn’t take long until she started wearing dresses and skirts instead, in the hopes that he would be enticed enough by the possibility to find more interesting places to put his hands.

He didn’t.

What he did do was offer to help her with her fighting form. And he volunteered for them to go on undercover missions together. And he asked, every once in a while, if she could come over to where he was sitting and explain some convoluted bit of modern slang he was reading in a book or help with some finicky computer program.

She took every piece of bait he offered and swallowed them whole. In doing so, she did her best to drag him down under the waves with her.

When they sparred, no matter what discipline, she found ways to get them both on the ground, rolling around, bodies locked closed together. When they went undercover, she acted every bit the enamored trophy wife, embodying the role so fully that it wasn’t easy to return to real life afterwards. When he asked her to read over a passage in his book or take a look at his computer screen, she leaned closer than necessary over his shoulder, making sure he could feel her breasts against his back.

At some point, she stopped teasing with the intention of getting something out of it and simply teased him because it was fun. She knew he felt it too; the brief smiles they shared away from the others proved it. The teasing became something of a game for them, a friendly—if at times maddening—kind of competition. How long could they go, stealing glances and touches like this, without ever once doing more? How many years could they work side by side and resist kissing and groping and making love, all in favor of endless titillation?

Nile wasn’t sure, but she was very grateful that they had centuries ahead of them to find out.

Chapter Text

Nile did not expect Booker to know how to dance. Maybe she was being a bit of an ageist, but the second they were assigned the job of surveilling inside the club, she assumed she’d have to be the one to take charge. She didn’t mind, really, as she was used to being the better dancer when it came to the men she dated. Booker, she knew, was probably quite a good dancer in his own right—though she imagined his experience was restricted to things like waltzing or the minuet. Stuffy, prudish, ballroom-style affairs. Surely he wouldn’t be capable of simulating sex on the dance floor, which was par for the course at most clubs these days.

They went to the bar first, wanting to get a lay of the land before wading out into the mass of writhing bodies. Nile knocked back one shot of tequila and then another, shrugging off Booker’s raised eyebrows. They were here to blend in, not stick out. She leaned on the bar, doing her best to keep her searching eyes casual as she inspected the layout through the bar’s enormous mirrored wall. Their targets weren’t hard to spot amidst the crowds, and one quick look at Booker told her he’d seen them too.

They lingered at the bar until Booker had finished his whiskey. Then he took her hand and tugged her towards the dance floor and their targets. Nile glanced behind her to make sure no one was clocking them, and she was surprised to be the recipient of more than a few women’s peevish glares. She smiled to herself, more than a little pleased at being the object of such jealousy, even if it was misplaced.

Once they found a bit of spare space on the floor, Nile was ready to direct Booker how and where to stand, but he surprised her by tugging at her hand and twirling her around until she ended up just as she’d intended: with her back to his front, her ass flush against his groin. She felt a shiver travel up her spine when his free hand snaked around her middle, laying claim to her bare midriff. She closed her eyes, finding her rhythm as she began to grind against him to the beat. It was no longer a shock to her when his moves matched hers exactly.

There was some joke here about not reading a book by its cover, but it was loud and hot and very hard to think when Booker was holding her like this. Jokes didn’t matter, Nile reminded herself, forcing some semblance of focus, because they had a job to do. Nile cast her eye about, but it wasn’t easy for her to see over the tall couples immediately in front of them. After a minute or two of trying, she gave up and threw her head back against Booker’s chest, twisting her neck to the side. With any other man, it would have been an invitation to stain her skin with hickeys. Booker, though, read the silent cue as easily as if she’d been shouting it, and bent his head down to her ear.

To anyone watching, she knew it looked like he was whispering sweet—or perhaps filthy—nothings in her ear. To anyone watching, his roaming mouth was depositing nothing but kisses as it traveled across the exposed skin of her neck and shoulder.

In reality, he was keeping her appraised of the whereabouts of their targets as they made deals across the crowded floor, giving her descriptions of every person they spoke to. In the course of just a handful songs, they already had a long list to report back to the others, and it was only growing.

Not that Nile was paying much attention anymore.

They’d been dancing for so long now that she could feel him hard against her, and the ridge of his erection at her ass made it impossible to focus on anything else. To his credit, he wasn’t forcing it on her, but there really was no avoiding his arousal when they were pressed this close together. If it weren’t for the crush of bodies around them, Nile knew he’d be able to smell her arousal, too. The tiny thong she wore under her leather skirt was soaked through. Nile wanted so badly to tell him to forget about the mission, to drag him off to the nearest bathroom for some relief, but doing so would erase months and months of work.

So she kept dancing, tracking the flow of customers, and he kept a close hold on her, passing down anything useful from his higher vantage point. She wasn’t sure how long they’d been at it, but suddenly there was a new insistence in Booker’s voice when he told her their targets were moving their way. The dance floor was so crowded by that point that there was no way for them to escape. Sweating, jumping, grinding bodies surrounded them on all sides, but their targets were still moving closer every second, and they had nowhere to hide.

When Booker warned her they were three seconds away, Nile did the only thing she could think of, and spun around in his arms. She pushed herself up onto her tiptoes, grabbing ahold of his face with both hands before yanking him down to her level for a hard kiss, effectively masking both their identities. If their targets glanced their way, all they’d see was yet another couple making out on the dance floor.

Booker froze at first, his mouth as motionless as his hands were on her hips. It didn’t matter; Nile could hear people pushing past behind her back, and she knew they had to keep it up. So she kissed him again, stroking her tongue against his mouth, and felt a surge of pleasure when his lips parted immediately.

As she slipped her tongue inside, his grip on her hips tightened and then moved to her ass. He seemed to instinctively pull her onto his erection, Nile happily ground herself against it, moaning into his mouth. She wrapped one of her arms around his neck for greater leverage as their kiss grew filthier with his active participation.

“That’s certainly one way to avoid detection,” Booker observed when their lips finally broke half a minute later. His voice was low and hoarse beneath the thump of the bass, and it made Nile shiver.

“Hey,” she murmured, brushing her nose against his, “anything for the mission, right?”

“Anything,” Booker agreed, pulling her close for another kiss.

Chapter Text

Nile was standing at the kitchen sink when Sébastien got home, her back to him as she drank a glass of water and started out the window at the setting sun. He called out a hello from the front door, but she didn’t turn. She didn’t even seem to hear him. He set his keys on the counter, letting his eyes roam over her as he stepped closer.

She was wearing that lovely floral dress he liked so much, all soft pinks and yellows. The hem went nearly to her ankles, but it showed off enough of her bare back to put ideas into his head. When she shifted her weight, leaning her free hand heavily against the sink, his eyes dropped automatically to her ass. He found himself wondering suddenly if she was wearing panties. He could tell just by looking at her back that she wasn’t wearing a bra.

He took a few steps forward.

“Jesus!” Nile gasped, jumping when he placed his hands on her hips. Her whole body relaxed when she realized it was him. “You scared me.”

The tinny sound of music could be heard as she yanked out her earbuds and tossed them aside. She put down her half-spilled water glass and was about to turn around to face him when the pressure of his body stopped her.

Sébastien didn’t move his hands from her hips, but he could feel things changing between them as he pressed her against the sink. Desire electrified the air like static. Just one or two touches and it would spark.

“Here?” Nile’s voice was decidedly huskier when she spoke now. It made him smile.

“Here,” he confirmed, nuzzling the crook of her neck and shoulder.

He loved that he didn’t have to tell her to hike up her dress. He loved that she was on board with anything. While he kissed her neck, she yanked up her dress, piling the train in the sink just to get it out of the way.

“Hm…” Sébastien fingered her soft black panties. “I was hoping you’d be bare for me.”

“Maybe if you’d warned me first, I could’ve been,” she replied. But he could tell by the thrum of her pulse under his lips that she liked being surprised. 

He unzipped his pants quickly, pulling out his cock while she shoved her panties down to her ankles. He watched in anticipation, stroking himself, as she spread her legs and braced against the sink.

“Ready?” he murmured, nosing the head of his cock at her opening.

When she nodded, he pushed inside.

She was barely wet enough, and they both groaned aloud at the tighter-than-usual slide. He reached a hand around to play with her clit while his mouth busied itself with sucking hickeys along her throat. Soon she was slick enough that he could start moving. Before long his thrusts were driving her up onto her tiptoes, and she whimpered, gripping the porcelain for support. Sébastien grinned against her shoulder, enjoying the way she was trying to keep herself under control. As if there were people in the next room, or down the hall. As if they might be caught in such a compromising position.

The idea fueled the fire in his gut and he picked up the pace, fucking her furiously until finally he came with a shout, pinning her against the sink. Somehow she found enough space to fit a hand between her legs, and he listened, dazed, to the frenzied sounds of her pants as she made herself come.

“Fuck,” he muttered, feeling her muscles clench and then slacken around him. If he’d had a hair trigger, he bet her orgasm would’ve set him off again. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“What in the hell got into you today?” Nile panted. While one of her hands gripped the sink for support, the other reached around to cradle the back of his neck. His hair was damp between her fingertips, his chest heaving against her back as if he’d just run a marathon.

“Don’t know,” he muttered, embarrassed now at his own desperation and burying his face in her braids to hide it. “Just had to have you.”

“Well.” He could hear a laugh in her voice. “Happy to have helped accommodate.”

Chapter Text

“One last thing before you go,” Andy said, filing away Nile’s performance review.

Nile sat up straighter in her chair, very aware of how her boss liked to drop bombshells into offhand statements. She wondered what it was now. She hoped her workload wasn’t being doubled just because she’d made it through the last twelve months short-staffed without breaking down.

“Are you dating a vampire?”

Nile blinked at the question, taken aback. But then Andy pointed a finger at her neck, and Nile looked down and—

“Oh, God,” she muttered, face burning as she realized her scarf had slipped free. A series of dark-colored hickeys could clearly be seen, starting at her throat and spreading down across her collarbones. “I’m so sorry,” she told her boss as she rushed to cover them. “I know this is really unprofessional—and during a performance review—I swear, I didn’t mea—”

“Calm down,” Andy said, waving a hand. “I’m not going to fire you for your bedroom habits.”

For a split-second, Nile wished she would. She would very much like to walk out of here right now and never have to come back. Nile fiddled with her scarf, unsure if she was allowed to leave or not. She already knew she wasn’t going back to her desk. She was going to find an empty bathroom, or a stairwell, or anywhere so she could call Sébastien and scream at him.

Better yet, she’d save herself a phone call and simply drive across town and kill him.

“In the future,” Andy suggested, “it might be best if you could remind your partner to, ah… Keep things beneath the collar. As it were.”

“Right,” Nile forced out, gritting her teeth so she wouldn’t scream I’ve tried! She made herself sit in the shame for a moment more before Andy dismissed her. Nile marched out of the corner office and straight back to her cubicle, trying not to make eye contact with anyone she passed. She’d been covering up those hickeys for days. Was today the first time Andy had noticed them? Or was today just the first time she’d found a convenient way to bring them up? If so, why had no one said anything to her before now?

Thankfully it was already half-past four, so she only had to busy herself with work for thirty minutes before being able to flee to the elevators. She set off across town towards the wine bar she and Sébastien always met up at after work. For once, he was on time—so much so that he actually beat her there. The glass of rosé he had waiting for her almost made her smile—until she remembered the meeting with Andy.

“You almost got me fired,” she told him in lieu of hello, just to see the panic spread across his face. She let him trip over his words for a few seconds while she down first half, and then all, of the rosé. She waited until she had a refill before she told him the whole story.

Sébastien, predictably, found it funny.

“Stop laughing!” Nile ordered, smacking her palms hard enough against the tables to sting. The bar was crowded enough by then that the sound barely registered, but her boyfriend grinned at the show anyway. “Nothing about this is funny, Sébas. I mean it. Now my boss thinks I’m some kind of sex-crazed lunatic.”

“And you’re not?” He raised his eyebrows. “That’s news to me.”

She kicked him under the table. “Shut up.”

He caught her foot easily, trapping it between his longer, stronger legs. Nile glared at him, but he merely smiled as he ran a hand along with underside of her bare calf.

“Thought you liked the marks,” he pointed out, not bothering to lower his voice. “What was it you said the other night? You like going about your days wearing a reminder of me?”

“That is not something to be discussed in public!” Nile kicked him with her other foot, hard enough that he doubled over. She took the opportunity to tuck both her legs safely under her seat.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Sébastien offered after a few fortifying sips of his wine. “If it makes you feel better, you can leave some marks on me tonight. Fair’s fair, right?”

Nile rolled her eyes at the so-called olive branch.

“I am not doing that,” she muttered, signaling their waiter for the check.

The hickeys on her neck faded over the next week, and Nile went about her workdays with only a low-level cloud of embarrassment hanging over her. In the meantime, she made certain Sébastien didn’t leave any new marks—at least not in places that couldn’t be covered up by work clothes. After a few weeks, Nile figured it was all behind her.

Revenge, though, proved too delicious to resist.

Nile made it two months before giving her boyfriend a taste of his own medicine. She woke early one Monday morning to use the bathroom and found Sébastien already there, dress shirt half on, staring at himself in the mirror.

“What in the hell am I supposed to do about this, Nile?”

There was a ring of red and purple hickeys encircling almost the entirety of his neck. There were so many of them it almost looked like he’d been strangled. Nile noticed with a sense of extreme gratification that nearly all of the marks were above the confines of his shirt collar. Unless he wanted to keep a winter scarf on in his climate-controlled office, there was absolutely no way he’d be able to hide them.

“I have court this week.”

“Oh?” Nile asked innocently, squeezing past him to use the toilet. “Do you now?”

“This isn’t funny, Nile.”

She snorted. “I’m pretty sure you found it very funny when I was on the receiving end.”

“This is different—”

“No, it’s not. It’s exactly the same and you know it.” She finished up and flushed. “Besides, fair’s fair, right? Isn’t that what you said to me the other month?”

He glared at her in the mirror as she came up behind him. “This isn’t what I had in mind,” he gritted out.

“Hm.” She cocked her head to the side. “Too bad for you.”

And then she elbowed him aside so she could wash her hands.

Chapter Text

“You did this on purpose,” Nile accused, arms crossed as she stared up at the ceiling.

“No.” Sébastien’s mouth had gone dry, making the honest answer feel like a chalky lie. “I swear I didn’t. None of the pictures online, none of the comments… Nothing advertised this.”

They were standing in the main bedroom of the modern little home they’d rented for the long weekend. When they’d searched online, all the reviews had talked about were the amenities—the large bathroom, the stocked kitchen, the secluded location… No one had mentioned the enormous mirror set into the ceiling directly above the king bed.

Nile and Sébastien were still staring at it. They’d just arrived a few minutes ago, having left their suitcases at the door. So far they’d only walked through the living room, kitchen, and now the bedroom. There was a growing feeling in Nile’s gut that told her it would be a long time before they explored anything else the house—or the area—had to offer.

When Nile finally managed to look away from the mirror, she found her husband staring at her.

“Well,” she said.

“Well,” he echoed.

“I guess we… we have to try it out, right?”

“Can’t pass up the opportunity,” he agreed, reaching for the buttons on his shirt.

Forty-eight hours later, and they had had sex underneath that mirror in every position they knew of. They’d had to wash the sheets multiple times, and even raid the linen closet for extras when the ones in the wash weren’t dry fast enough to keep up with their desire.

Nile didn’t think she’d had this much sex in such a short time in all her life. Even their honeymoon, which they had mostly spent naked, hadn’t included this much sex. That was almost six years ago now. Nile liked to think that it said something very good about the state of their marriage that they could still fuck like this after so long.

Sébastien was on his back, his knees bent to support her as Nile lay sprawled over him, her posture mimicking his own as she rode him, head thrown back over his shoulder. He had his hands on her hips and whenever her legs were too tired to support her body, he helped to guide her up and down on his cock.

“Look at that,” Sébastien whispered as their skin slapped together. He took the shell of her ear between his teeth and bit it until she moaned. “Look at us, baby. Look up.”

“Can’t,” Nile panted, doing her best to keep up the momentum as she rode him. She was so damn close; she needed to focus.

“Yes, you can,” he replied. “Open your eyes now. Do it for me.”

Nile whimpered, half in stubborn refusal, half in desperation to obey. She was scared if she watched them in the mirror again, she’d be so overwhelmed that she’d lose all the strength in her body. Sébastien let go of her hip and cupped a hand around her forehead, turning her head to his. His lips were on her neck, her cheek, her mouth—so hot and fierce and all-consuming that Nile could do nothing but give in.

When he next told her to open her eyes, she obeyed without a second thought.

There they were—up above, in heaven, writhing and sweating and moaning. It was so unbelievably filthy that Nile felt like she might cry. She didn’t know where to look first—Sébastien’s hands, white-knuckling her hips? His mouth, sucking hickeys across her shoulder? His cock, sliding so smoothly in and out of her sopping pussy?

“Oh, God…” Nile whined. She really did feel like she might cry. She tried to put a hand over her eyes, but he snatched it away, laced their fingers together, and used both to squeeze her breast.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he grunted, slamming his hips up into her ass extra hard. “Look at your body. So fucking flawless. Still so tight after all this time.”

“Sé-bas,” Nile moaned helplessly, her voice breaking on just those two syllables. He knew what dirty talk did to her, and he’d been in rare form this weekend, driving her as crazy with his words as with his body.

“Let’s watch together,” he murmured. In the mirror, his eyes found hers and held them. “Let’s watch your pretty face while you come apart all over my cock.”

It didn’t take more than that. Nile hit her peak and shattered, the world disappearing in a haze of pleasure. She could feel Sébastien beneath her, hips pumping hard as he chased his own orgasm, their bodies slapping together ferociously. She cried out when she felt him come inside her, throwing her head back but making sure to keep her eyes open. She wanted to see his face, too, and she wasn’t disappointed.

“I think,” Nile whispered later that night after yet another round in front of the mirrors, “that we should come back here for our anniversary.”

Sébastien turned to her with a grin. “Don't worry, I already booked it.”

Chapter Text

“Mm!” Nile stifled a shout of pleasure with her fist, biting down hard on her own knuckles. 

Above her, Sébastien was breathing hard through his nose, one hand gripping the headboard as the other played with her tit. With every thrust, the bedframe was creaking underneath them, and even the blanket they’d thrown over the back of the headboard wasn’t doing much to muffle the sound.

“Hurry,” Nile begged into her fist. She dug the nails of her free hand into his back to make sure he got the point. “Hurry.”

“I’m trying,” Sébastien panted. He hefted one of her legs over his shoulder for a better angle. “Fuck, I’m—”

There was a sound from somewhere down the hall and they both froze, trying to listen for more. It was impossible to hear anything beyond the pounding of their own hearts and the exhaust of their breaths, but still they both waited, staring at his bedroom door, poised for that dreaded knock, for one of four tiny voices calling out, Papa?

Last month had been a close call. Too close of a call, if Nile was being honest. On her Lyft back to the city afterwards, she’d drafted fifteen different breakup texts to send him. Everything from the brutally short I can’t do this anymore to paragraphs and paragraphs explaining how, while she loved sleeping with him, she was not—at twenty-seven—prepared to be anything like a parent to those four motherless boys of his.

Of course she didn’t send any of the texts. Of course she came back the next week anyway. Of course she was still here beneath him a month later, being fucked senseless at two AM on a Sunday because it was the only time his children were guaranteed to be dead asleep.

“Keep going,” Nile whispered urgently, once she was certain the sound was just the house settling, and not one of his boys wandering the halls. “You can’t stop now.”

“I’m not,” Sébastien replied, but he was still staring at the door, as if worried the second he looked away, it would burst open.

Nile squeezed his sides, pushing her hips up into his impatiently.

“I didn’t come all the way out to the suburbs only to have to get myself off,” she reminded him.

“I know. I know.” Finally he tore his eyes away from the door and looked back at her. There was an apologetic frown on his face as he bent down to kiss her. “Just wanted to be careful,” he whispered, before taking ahold of her leg again and spreading her wide open.

Nile lost her capability for coherent speech after that. He drove her fast towards her orgasm, and when it came, she had to clench her teeth so hard to contain the scream of pleasure that she worried her jaw might crack.

Sébastien followed suit quickly. He fell on top of her when he came, knocking the air out of her lungs, but she didn’t care. If she couldn’t breathe, that meant she couldn’t scream, and if she couldn’t scream, then they wouldn’t get caught. And if they didn’t get caught, she could rationalize coming back next week, and the week after that, and maybe even the week after that…

Chapter Text

Booker tried not to stare at Nile’s ass as she took his hand and led him to the back of the club, but it was impossible. He could hear his so-called friends—at least, they were friends of his undercover persona—whistling and whooping after him, and he did his best to throw a rakish grin over his shoulder. He’d gotten Joe’s message the week before, warning him to keep an eye out because the team would be passing on hard intel to him soon. Booker had been expecting a dead drop or some other kind of clandestine rendezvous.

He had not expected to see Nile—dressed in a slutty little nurse’s uniform, complete with the hat—appear out of nowhere to separate him from his fellows in the middle of a crowded strip club.

It wasn’t a long trip back to the champagne rooms, but it felt like an eternity stretching on from the moment she took his hand. The music was pounding around them, lights flashing, and everywhere there were women—dancing on poles and stages and in men’s laps. Booker couldn’t help but wonder if Nile had gotten roped into doing any of that before she sought him out.

The room was smaller than he expected, though thankfully nowhere near as grimy as he’d feared. Still, he tried not to think about how rarely these places were cleaned when suddenly Nile pushed him down onto the leather booth and then climbed into his lap.

“Nile, what are you—”

“Shh,” she whispered in his ear, squeezing his shoulders. “Right corner.”

Booker dropped his head against the back of the booth, letting his eyes roll back in only half-feigned arousal so he could scan the ceiling. It was well hidden, but because he knew where to look, he spotted the eye in the sky.

“Thought there weren’t supposed to be cameras back here,” he murmured, ducking his head down so his lips couldn’t be read.

Nile snickered against his neck. “Don’t believe everything you see in the movies.”

He waited for the handoff then, waited to feel her hand tucking a flash drive or a folded bit of paper into his pocket, but there was nothing. And before he could ask, she was up on her feet again. He stared up at her, impossibly tall in those blood-red stilettos. It took a while for his eyes to travel up the length of her long, long legs. When his gaze finally reached her face again, she was smirking.

“You like what you see?” she asked, toying with the little zipper at the front of her outfit.

Booker nodded mutely, his mouth too dry for words, his brain too fried for thought.

She tugged on that zipper, dragging it down inch by torturous inch until he wanted to scream. Booker had no idea what was happening here, but he wasn’t about to stop her. For a few minutes, she played with him, teasing a bit of skin here, a scrap of lace there. When she squeezed her small breasts, first over and then under the outfit, Booker had to bite his tongue so he wouldn’t groan. His cock was becoming uncomfortably hard in his pants.

Finally, she unzipped the short white dress and let it fall to the ground. Beneath, she was wearing nothing but a lacy white bra and a matching g-string. Underneath the blacklight, she shone like a creature from another world.

“Fucking Christ,” he swore aloud.

He wanted to ask what in the world he’d done to deserve this, but he remembered that camera on the ceiling and he knew better than to shatter the illusion that they were nothing more than a stripper and her client. So he sat back and watched, feeling far too overheated given the air conditioning, as she stalked towards him on those impossibly high heels.

When she spread her legs to straddle him again, he noticed how her pussy lips had spilled over the edge of that tiny little g-string she was wearing. He wanted to ask her if it was uncomfortable. He wanted to ask her if she was wet.

But all he could manage, as she arched her back and pressed her tits into his face, was one word.

“Why?”

She smiled, her teeth brighter than usual due to the blacklight.

“Because I look good,” she replied, running her hands over his chest. “And I’m not going to pass up the opportunity to show off for a man I actually like.”

Like?

“You seem surprised,” she commented.

“I…” He shook his head. Where had the words gone? “It’s really hard for me to talk right now.”

She laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” She braced her hands on his shoulders, and as she shifted in his lap to rub her ass against his cock, he let out a low groan. “So?” she whispered, her voice much quieter now. “How long do you think we have? Will your new friends miss you?”

“If they do, I don’t care.”

Chapter Text

Booker had been in exile for thirty years when Nile had her first sex dream about him. She woke flushed and disoriented, half expecting to find him in bed beside her when she opened her eyes. But the other side of the mattress was empty as usual, and all she was left with was a rapidly fading memory of a dreamed-about feeling:

His strong arms, wrapped tight around her back.

His stubble, scratching her chin and cheeks while they kissed.

His voice, so low and gravelly as it whispered forgotten nothings into her ear.

It would be years before she’d dream about him again. The second time was no clearer than the first, but it was clear enough to make her realize that it wouldn’t be the last. The dreams would keep coming, would become more intense, and she decided then and there that she would find a way to memorialize them.

She could only capture isolated feelings at first. When she woke sweating, she reached for her phone, hitting the record button because it was easier than typing, because doing so allowed her to close her eyes and return to that dreamworld for a moment more as she dictated—

I can feel his hips against mine, pressing me down into the mattress.

I can feel his tongue licking along the length of my windpipe.

I can feel his breath warming my lips before he kisses them. 

Sometimes she talked for minutes, sometimes only for a few seconds. She knew there would be no revisiting the same dream twice, and so she did her best to capture even the most minute details before they fled her mind for good.

At some point over the decades—she wasn’t sure when—she stopped talking to herself and started talking to him. It made her recordings feel a little less pitiable. It made her bed feel a fraction less empty. It made her feel like a wife with a husband gone far away—to war, maybe, or to something worse. When she closed her eyes and spoke of her dreams, she imagined him listening.

We were in your bed this time, she told him, and you were laid out beneath me, watching as I moved on top of you.

I swear I could feel it really happening, when you pushed inside me. I could feel my body opening for yours. Only yours.

I could hear your voice so clearly when you told me you loved me. You said you'd never stop.

There were times when Nile couldn’t even get through her reminiscences without having to touch herself. So she let the recorder run, and pretended he was there to listen.

Please, she begged, as if her fingers were his own, Please, I need you.

When his century was up and they all flew to London to meet him, Nile arrived first. While the others sat and waited in the bar, she paced along the rocky shore of the Thames, unable to stay still. Over and over again, she played those well-worn final memories—the real memories—of him in her head. She remembered the way he’d hugged Andy. The way he’d watched the rest of them leave.

She remembered the last words he’d ever said to her:

You’re a good kid, Nile. You’re gonna be great for the team. 

She was mouthing them to herself, wishing she’d thought to record his voice back then, when she heard footsteps on the stairs. Just one set of footsteps. Her head whipped around like a dog catching a scent, but the rest of her stood there frozen, watching him approach.

He had not aged even a moment in the century since they’d last seen each other, and yet he looked so very different from the man she remembered. He seemed happier, even younger, somehow. He was wearing dark jeans and a green button-down, no coat despite the chill. His beard was fuller now, and his hair was neatly buzzed. Nile’s hands itched at the sight of his shorn head; she wanted so badly to touch it. How many times had she dreamed about running her hands through that long hair of his?

He came to a stop a few feet away and smiled shyly at her, like the long-lost acquaintances they were.

“Hi, kid,” he rumbled. “Long time no see.”

That voice of his. Her dreams, somehow, had done him justice. The realization nearly brought tears to her eyes.

“Hi,” she echoed, more breathless than the situation warranted.

And then—because she couldn’t continue to stand there like this moment meant nothing to her—she launched herself into his arms. He hadn’t been expecting that, and her fervor nearly knocked him sideways. Stones shifted and clattered beneath their feet, but he managed to stay upright, one arm wrapped tight around her waist to steady them both. When she didn’t immediately let him go, his other arm slid across her back and patted her shoulder awkwardly.

“Missed me, huh?” he asked, laughter lightening his tone.

Nile closed her eyes and breathed him in deep. “You have no idea.”

Chapter Text

Long before she ever noticed him out in there in the fields, Nile had a habit of taking the long way home from the university. The French countryside was beautiful any time of year, but she had a soft spot for spring. For the grasses growing tall and eager, the wildflowers in bloom, the fields alive with workers and creatures and the hope of a bountiful harvest come the fall. 

The days were too nice not to spend them outside, which is what she always told her host family whenever she arrived late for dinner, footsore and sweating. They simply shook their heads, obviously suspecting a lie, and Nile didn’t bother to convince them otherwise. She liked that they assumed her life was interesting enough that she’d have something juicy to lie about.

They were already a few weeks into the planting season when Nile got her first good look at him. She’d noticed the farmer from afar before, working diligently in his fields, but this was the first time that he was close enough for her to see his face. Nile didn’t realize she was staring until he lifted a hand in a wave and called out hello. Nile replied in kind, and this went on for a few days until the next time she walked by, he was working close enough to the low stone wall by the road that they could talk. It was just a couple minutes’ conversation, and his accent was so thick that Nile had to focus very intently to understand his French, but it was nice.

Over the weeks, they got in the habit of talking every time she walked by his fields. At first it was just a few minutes, but soon he was spending his breaks with her, sitting on that low stone wall for fifteen or twenty minutes at a time, the two of them talking as the sun fell around them. He had probably a good ten years on her, but Nile thought he wore the age well.

It was high summer by the time she allowed herself to acknowledge exactly what that meant.

He didn’t blink when she asked one day for him to show her around the rest of his fields. They walked for perhaps twenty minutes before Nile deemed a spare bit of fallow field safe from prying eyes and surely as good as anywhere else. When she stopped walking, he didn’t notice at first. He was still talking about rainfall and growing cycles and other things she, at the moment, cared nothing for.

By the time he turned around, she’d already unbuttoned her dress and let it fall to the dirt. He froze where he was, mouth half open, as she reached back and unclipped her bra. Nile watched the way his eyes widened at the sight of her bare breasts and felt a thrill of satisfaction. She’d never thought much of her chest, but the way he was staring gave her a jolt of courage. She walked towards him, wearing nothing but her underwear, and kissed him.

They ended up in the dirt, with him on his back and her riding him, nails raking down his bare, pale chest. She’d laughed aloud when he’d taken off his shirt—his face and forearms were so deeply tanned from working in the sun, and it had been a surprise to see how milky white he was beneath his clothes. Evidently he didn’t like being laughed at, but a few kisses seemed to soothe his bruised ego, and by the time she was riding him in earnest, neither of them had anything to laugh about. Nile barely had a moment to congratulate herself for remembering the French acronym for IUD before he slid inside and all semblance of her bilingualism left her.

“Fuck,” Nile growled in English, relishing how rough and dirty the word sounded in her native tongue. It matched what she was feeling, what they were doing. “Fucking hell, you feel so good inside me.” She groaned, throwing her head back, bracing her palms fully against his chest. He was strong; he could take it. She stared down at him beneath her, taking in the strain of his muscles, the awe in his eyes. “Why haven’t we done this before?” she panted, bracing with her knees as she began to bounce furiously on his cock. “Why did I wait so long?”

Beneath her, his hands were grabbing at her thighs, her hips, her ass. “Je ne parle pas anglais,” he reminded her through gritted teeth. “Je ne—merde!—Je ne comprends pas.”

Who cares? Nile wanted to yell. You don’t need to understand, you just need to feel.

But his hands were insistent, his eyes pleading with her as much as his mouth as he said, “S’il te plaît, s’il te plaît, parle-moi. En français, s’il te plaît.”

Nile whined, high and loud, knowing she didn’t need to be quiet.

We don’t need French for this, she wanted to tell him. We don’t need language at all.

But he had asked, and he had said please, and he was being so very nice to her…

She found the missing part of her brain and put it to work. She repeated what she’d said in English in French this time, and listened to him groan. Soon enough he was muttering filthy things back to her, but between his thick accent and the enormous distraction that was his cock in her body, she couldn’t pick out much beyond Good and Yes and Tight. But she didn’t need much more than that. When Nile came, it was with a scream that she was certain could be heard all the way in the next valley.

Afterward, he lent her his shirt to wipe off the worst of the dirt from her knees as well as his spend from between her thighs. He stood there shirtless, looking both beautiful in all his sweaty, muscled glory and silly with that godawful tan. Once she was dressed, he walked her west towards the sunset, back to the fence and the road beyond. It was the rural version of walking a girl to the door, Nile thought, smiling to herself as she took two careful steps over to the other side.

It was different over there. Where before she had been full of confidence, eager to make something happen between them, now she felt that creeping awkwardness. Had she really just done that? Had sex with a near-stranger in the middle of a field in rural France?

She looked at her shoes and whispered the only thing that could come to mind.

“Merci.”

“‘Merci’?” He laughed, propping one foot up against the wall. “Sérieusement? C’est tout?”

She shrugged, feeling that embarrassment flare up again even as she smiled at his laughter. He had a nice laugh. Something made her think it wasn’t heard much.

He reached out over the wall, hooking two fingers lightly around the underside of her hand. She let him tug it forward until he could clasp it fully in his. His hand was rough and warm, and she closed her eyes, shivering at the memory of how he’d touched her out in the field.

When she looked up, he was watching her with careful, hopeful eyes.

“À demain?” he asked quietly.

Nile nodded, unable to resist.

“À demain,” she promised.

Chapter Text

He was reaching for her before she was even fully awake. Nile came to with Booker's lips on her neck and one of his hands already sliding beneath her t-shirt to grab at her breast.

“Too early,” she mumbled in half-hearted protest, stretching her legs beneath the covers. She reached back with a clumsy hand to cup the back of his neck. “What’s this all about now?”

“I was dreaming.” His voice was low and close, and sent a twinge of pleasure through her belly.

“Dreaming?” she asked, stifling a yawn. “About what?”

“You.”

“Oh,” she laughed. “One of those dreams, I see.” She made no effort to turn around and face him, but her fingers massaging his scalp were enough of an endorsement. “You still have those?”

“You don’t?”

She twisted her head to look him in the eye. “I’ve got reality, don’t I?”

He smiled and bent forward to kiss her on the mouth. As his arms wrapped more fully around her, Nile sighed, sinking into his embrace. She loved feeling the warmth of him around her, no matter the time of year.

“What were we doing in your dream?” she asked when their lips parted.

She watched as his cheeks took on a pink tinge.

“I’ll tell you after,” he replied, busying himself with pushing aside the wide neckline of her t-shirt so he could kiss the bare skin of her shoulder.

“After? That’s presumptuous of you.”

“Oh, come on now,” he cooed, pressing himself against her beneath the covers. One of his hands was still beneath her shirt and Nile had to bite her lip to keep herself from moaning as he tugged at her nipple. “I’ll make you feel good. You know I will.”

“I’m tired.” Nile leaned her head against his. “And it’s early, Sébas. Can’t you wait?”

“No. I can’t.”

He scraped his teeth against the back of her neck in that way that never failed to make her shiver. Then his lips were at her ear, whispering, “You can always sleep afterwards." And then those magic words: “But only if you let me use you a little first."

“Fuck,” Nile whimpered, feeling her core ignite.

“That’s it,” he murmured, rolling his hips into hers so she could feel his erection more fully. “You just lie there, baby. Let me fuck you. All you have to do is take it. And you like taking it, don’t you?”

Nile shut her eyes, not bothering to contain the moan threatening to escape. Booker was already moving, pushing her onto her back and crouching above her, tugging her shorts and underwear down her legs. He yanked them all the way off, tossing the garments aside, before facing her once more. He frowned when he saw she was still wearing a shirt.

“This won’t do,” he murmured, tugging lightly at the hem.

Nile smiled and shrugged. “If you want it off, you’ll have to do it yourself.” She yawned again, as if on cue. “Told you I was tired.”

He pursed his lips, but didn’t rise to the bait. He simply shoved her shirt up her chest, until her bare breasts were exposed.

“That’s all I need to see,” he said matter-of-factly, and then he pulled his cock out.

“Fuck,” Nile whimpered again, biting her lip as he pushed her legs apart. She watched as he bent over her, and used the head of his cock to tease her clit. “Not fair,” she whined, starting to writhe on the sheets as he rubbed his hard shaft against her. “Quit teasing.”

“Need to make sure you're ready for me,” he excused, but she could tell from the smug look on his face that he was past sure and only playing. She didn’t have the breath to argue, though, not with him touching her like that, so she simply laid there and took it, just like he’d asked her to.

When he finally, finally deemed her ready and slid inside, Nile groaned and pressed her face into her own shoulder. He shoved his cock in deep, knowing she could take it, and grabbed one of her tits, kneading the soft flesh roughly as he fucked her into the mattress. She whined and writhed and shook beneath him, every sound that fell from her lips a desperate plea for more. For once, he didn’t draw it out. He didn't torture her. He took her fast, and managed to pull her over the edge just before he exploded inside her.

After they'd both recovered enough for him to pull out, Nile curled up on her side, eyes drooping closed.

“I might actually fall back asleep now,” she yawned, clutching a pillow beneath her head. “Do you mind?”

Beside her, she heard him chuckle. “Not at all. Go to sleep.”

“You’ll stay?” she wondered, already feeling herself drift off. “Be here when I wake up again?”

“’Course,” he replied. “Not going anywhere.”

The last thing she felt before she fell back into unconsciousness was his arm wrapping around her back and his lips touching a kiss to her forehead. 

Chapter Text

On the days when they gave in to that most primal desire, they didn’t leave bed for hours. They stripped one another naked and made love until they were sore, until the sheets were soaked, until she was so full of his come that it leaked out whenever he dared to withdraw.

He didn’t often dare. There were many curses that came with immortal life, but one of the blessings was this: being ready for more whenever one of them wanted it, and rarely ever needing time to recover. She reveled in it as much as he did: she could feel him go from hard to soft to hard again inside her, all in a matter of minutes.

She was insatiable on the days they dreamed of children, and so was he. They drove each other to it—basking in the tangle and ruin of each other’s bodies, pushing through the exhaustion so they could have one more taste of the fantasy they both held so dear.

“Want it,” Nile panted, tugging impatiently at his damp hair as he moved above her. “Want your come. Want your baby. Want to be so full of you everyone can see.”

Sébastien groaned, pressing his forehead down against hers. “One look… Fuck, Nile, one look at you and they’ll know. They’ll know you’re mine.”

“Yes…” she moaned, drawing the word out long and loud as she arched her back up into him. “Always yours. Forever yours, Sébas, please—”

He loved the sound of her voice when it broke for him. Loved the desperation, loved the look in her eyes, loved when she gave up on words and simply pled with her body for him to satisfy himself inside her.

He liked it best like this: with her on her back beneath him, her body spread wide and willing, eager for all he could give her. He pushed one of her thighs to her chest, instructing her to hold it there, before following with the second. Sweat dripping down her face, Nile did so, craning her neck so she could watch as he entered her again. After hours in bed, her body was doused in his come. Every thrust was a horribly sloppy affair, but they both loved the nastiness of it, the loud squelch and easy slide of his cock as it withdrew before surging home once again.

Her whole body shuddered at this new angle, and Sébastien smiled, watching her face pinch with pleasure. He could tell from the way she was biting down on her lower lip that she was struggling not to demand more.

“Love seeing you like this, Nie,” he murmured, pressing his nose to hers in soft encouragement. He stroked the side of her face as he rocked slowly within her. “You look so beautiful taking me in, sweetheart. I can’t wait to watch you grow full with my baby.”

Beneath him, Nile huffed and whined, still clutching her legs to her chest and trying her best to be patient. As much as she loved his talk, loved his cock, this was not her favorite position. On days like this, she preferred to be on her hands and knees, with him taking her fast from behind so she could feel the slap of his swollen balls before he drained his seed deep inside her cunt.

When they talked of babies, of sons and daughters and all they would give each other, Sébastien always wanted to make love. But Nile—she wanted to be bred.

Over the centuries, they’d learned to compromise.

If she lay docile on her back long enough, letting him take his time with slow and gentle lovemaking, he would reward her with what she truly wanted: a rough fuck that she could only handle on days like this, when they spent hours working her up to it.

He dragged out the lovemaking side of things as long as he could, but even he could not stay hard inside her indefinitely. Orgasm beckoned him as ever, and when he flooded her pussy once more, neither of them could help but cry out. Sébastien wiped away her tears afterward, and Nile smiled, doing the same for him before kissing his cheeks.

“I love you,” she whispered, cradling his face in her hands, and he smiled, whispering the words back before covering her mouth with his own. This kiss was brief, and when he pulled away, she caught a glint of mischief in his eyes. Despite the day they’d had, Nile’s stomach tingled at the promise of what was to come.

“Tell me,” Sébastien murmured, brushing his thumb against the point of her chin. “Do you think you can take me one more time?”

Nile could take him for hours more—days more—and they both knew it. But he knew that sometimes when she craved defilement, she liked to act the innocent. He always gave her the chance.

“I think so,” she whispered, making a show of taking in a fortifying breath.

“Good.” He smiled, and kissed her again—harder this time—before pulling back and pulling out. “Get up now. You know how I want you.”

It wasn’t what he wanted, not really, but she loved that he pretended for her. He sat back as she turned over onto her knees. Both her body and the sheets were so slippery with sweat and come that it was a challenge, actually, for Nile to assume the position. She felt her knees slide a little as she settled herself and she thrilled at the thought of him having to physically hold her upright in order to fuck her properly.

“Look at that,” Sébastien murmured, hands on her hips as he nosed his cock between her legs. He felt his mouth water as he watched his own spend drip down her legs. “So full of me you can’t even keep it in.”

“Not full enough,” Nile insisted, and he laughed behind her.

“Never full enough, hm? Guess I have no choice then…” He pressed his cock against her weary clit just to see her shake. “Have to give it to you until you’re satisfied.”

“Oh, yes,” Nile hissed, feeling him slide back inside. She was so wet and well-fucked that it was an easy fit. “That’s it. Oh, you feel so good.”

Sébastien grunted in agreement, tightening his hold on her hips as he moved her up and down his cock, picking up speed as he went. Every thrust brought more come flying out of her cunt, and Sébastien swore as he watched, unable to take his eyes off the mess. He listened as Nile moaned, the rhythm of her voice changing as he pounded into her, turning from a low groan into a sharp Uh-uh-uh as he fucked her ever harder. She was close already. He knew she was, and he knew exactly what to say to push her over the edge.

“You’re going to take my come, baby. And you’re going to give me what I want, aren’t you, Nile?”

She groaned, bowing her head between her shoulders, knowing what was coming. She didn’t want it to end yet.

“I asked you a question.” He pinched her hip. “Now answer me.”

When she didn’t reply, he purposefully slowed down his thrusts to torment her. She whined aloud in protest, pushing herself back against his cock, desperate for that last scrap of pleasure. As he watched, she pushed her ass up high but slid from her palms down onto her forearms, so far down that her cheek was pressed against the mattress.

“Fucking hell, Nie,” Sébastien muttered under his breath. Why was she doing shit like this? How did she expect him to keep control of himself long enough to give her what she needed what she acted like this?

“Ask me,” she panted, her whole body heaving with the effort of keeping herself prone. “You have to ask me for it, honey, come on. Do it properly.”

Sébastien closed his eyes, bowing his head to his chest. He was exhausted. He was so fucked he didn’t think he could do it. He felt like he was going to pass out.

“Please, my love,” Nile whispered, her voice going reedy. “You know I’ll give it to you. You know I’ll come, I just… I need… Please…”

“I know.” He forced his head up. “I know what you need.” For a few seconds, he surveyed her splayed out before him. Her body was shining with sweat, her thighs stained with his many releases. He could see her shaking, trying to hold on. He bent down and pressed a kiss to the middle of her spine. Then he pressed another. He felt her shudder as he licked the sweat off her back.

“You’re such a good woman,” he murmured. Despite his warm words, he could feel her back stiffen in anticipation. “Because of that, I try to always give you what you want. But now it’s time for you to give me something. Time for you to give me what I want more than anything…”

He bent over her, breathing hard, his lips at her ear as he whispered—asked—demanded—

“You’ll give me another son now, Nile. Won’t you?”

She whimpered at the expectation in his voice, feeling her eyes prick with tears. But there was no sorrow, no pain inside her—there was nothing but lust and a desire to appease him. 

Two hundred years ago, a demand like that would’ve stopped everything. Would’ve ruined everything. But they had been doing this long enough that there were no more tears, no more apologies, no second-guessing. The fantasy was strong enough to override everything, even the most painful parts of reality.

As he straightened up, he listened to her chant Yes, yes, yes in reply. He took her hips in his hands once more, and pulled his cock nearly all the way out before shoving it back in.

“Yes!” she shouted, feeling her walls tighten in earnest as he bore down on her. “Yes, there it is! More, fuck, more—”

She was still begging for it when her orgasm ripped through her, pulling a screech from her throat. He followed her immediately, bathing her cunt once more—

“Deep,” she panted from the mattress, her final demand. “Deeper, please… If you want a son… needs to be deep…”

He was too drained to argue. He just snorted, following her orders as ever. He pumped his softening cock in, forcing his come further up her channel until finally—finally—they were both satisfied.

They collapsed onto the unholy mess that was their bed, grinning at each other. There would be no sons, but it didn’t matter, not when they had each other.

Chapter Text

Nile’s need for approval didn’t die with her death in the military. If anything, it only intensified now that she had no other outlet, no avenue through which she could garner herself hard-won but always deserved approval. She got bits of it from the others sometimes—during her Italian lessons with Nicky, or her weapons training with Andy—but their perfunctory nods of approval were hardly enough to satisfy her.

She needed more. A lot more.

She never expected to receive it from Booker, of all people.

The first time they kissed, she was drunk and Booker was walking her home from the bar. The others had peeled off hours ago, and from the glances they’d exchanged as they got up, Nile had been very aware that Booker was being given the job of babysitting. She’d been resentful at first, but as the night wore on, she found she actually liked his company one-on-one. He was delightfully snide, more so than she remembered before his exile, and while he didn’t drink anymore, he didn’t put a damper on her party.

When she’d had enough, he dutifully walked her home safe. And she—riding high on inebriation and the warmth of a new friendship—had thanked him with a hug. And then she kissed him.

He kissed her back. She felt it.

But it was only for a moment before he pulled away. The second their lips parted, she had complaints marshaling on the tip of her tongue, but they all disintegrated when he spoke. 

“That’s very nice, Nile,” he drawled, and it was then that she knew she was sunk. So completely sunk in the grit of his voice and the plushness of his praise that she almost missed what he said next. “But let’s try to aim for sober next time, hm?”

She could only manage a nod. She stood and watched him leave, no longer feeling sleepy nor drunk. His praise had done something to her, electrified her to a new plane of wakefulness. All she felt now was a burning desire to hear more.

It did not take long before they kissed again. Sober this time, as he’d insisted. There was no stopping them after that. If the others thought anything of it, they never said. Nile didn’t care. When she and Booker were behind closed doors, it felt like they were in a world all their own. Nothing mattered in that world but the fusing of their two bodies, and the whispers of praise he surrounded her with as they joined. Every word he uttered felt like a blessing, sweet and fine.

It didn’t take long before she was entirely his.

It would have been easy for him to abuse the trust she placed so readily in his hands, but he never once did. He only ever told her when she did well. And he never made her try anything beyond what she said she could handle to get it.

Sometimes she wished he’d push her. She’d always gotten her best results in the Marines when her superiors had forced her past what she thought she was capable of. But that had been work. Warfare.

What she and Booker were doing… She didn’t know what to call it, but it was not work. And it certainly was not warfare.

“Wonderful, Nile,” he murmured one evening, watching her through half-lidded eyes as she swallowed around his cock. He was sitting at the edge of his bed and she was on her knees on the floor. “You’re doing so well, ma chérie. That tongue of yours…” He shuddered with pleasure as she put it to work. “It is so very talented. I don’t think I’ve ever had better, not in three hundred years.”

Nile basked in his praise, leaning even closer towards him like a plant turning to the sun. She’d never been much interested in giving head before, but in the last few months, she’d grown fond of sucking Booker’s cock just so she could hear his many compliments. There was too much activity during full-on sex; too many things for him to do, too many sensations for them both to focus on. But when it was just her with her lips wrapped around his cock…

Well, it was never a bad thing to have Booker’s undivided attention. In fact, it just might be Nile’s favorite thing in the world.

“You know,” he said one afternoon, as they lay naked in his sun-warmed bed, “you’re not the only one who likes being told when they’re doing a good job.”

“Oh?” Nile’s eyes brightened with interest as she glanced his way. This was new. “You like it too?”

He shrugged, tracing a lazy finger along her ribcage. “Doesn’t everyone like a bit of praise now and again?”

Nile smiled, rolling over onto her stomach. As if on cue, the finger tickling her ribs found its way northward, and circled around one dark nipple. Nile watched with bated breath as he plucked it to firmness.

“That’s nice, Book,” she whispered, chest heaving as his mouth descended to lap at the hardened bud. She drew in a sharp breath as he began to suckle. “Oh, so very nice…”

Chapter Text

He had been home for over a week, and in all that time they did not once leave the apartment. They hardly left each other’s sight. In between making love every chance they got, they spent the rest of their days sleeping and talking, doing their best to make up for all the lost time.

All the lost years.

Now that he was back, it seemed impossible to contemplate a life without him. But the relief, so strong it sometimes felt like grief, came in crushing waves to remind her. For twenty years, he had been gone. For twenty years, they had not spoken or touched or looked at one another. For twenty years, he made a life with someone else as if it were his only life.

And now here he was, finally home again.

Here he was, his body spread fully over hers. His shoulders big enough to block out the rest of the world. His arms strong enough to carry her away. His heat enough to melt her, like wax, until she dripped to nothingness beneath him.

“Je t’aime,” he whispered over and over and over again as they made love. “Seulement toi, mon cœur,” he promised, and she shut her eyes, stroking his hair.

She didn’t need to hear these things, but she knew he needed to say them, and so she didn’t tell him to stop.

She let his words wash over her like water, cleaning out every bit of doubt and anger and helplessness she’d felt the last twenty years. Some of the grime clung, she could feel it in the darkest depths of her heart, but she knew with time that it too would wear away. With time, they would be themselves again, just the two of them.

That woman he had married was in jail now, and would be for the rest of her life. Though the authorities were searching, her husband was nowhere to be found. Presumed dead, in yet another one of his wife’s horrific purges.

But his twin was here, in Nile’s arms. He was holding her, kissing her, feeling so very real inside her that it seemed foolish to imagine they were ever apart for any length of time.

But they were.

And even with the infinite lives they led, twenty years was still an awfully long time.

She wept sometimes, at the loss of it all, and he wept too. He apologized endlessly, but she shook her head. No matter how much it hurt, she understood. He’d done what he’d had to do, for the greater good they’d committed themselves to. And he was back now.

No absence mattered so much as the sole fact that he was back.

They spent a very long time reacquainting themselves with one another once he returned. Rechristening themselves, it felt like, and reaffirming a love that had not ever, not truly, gone away. She had missed him so very much in the years apart. Not just his body, but all of him—his voice, his face, the mind that hid behind those eyes, and the heart that felt so much so fully that it hardly seemed like it could be contained inside him. 

When she opened her body for him once again, for the last time that evening before they surrendered to sleep, she did not ask him never to leave again. He could not make that kind of promise, and they both knew she would think less of him if he tried.

So instead, she pulled his face close to hers, watching his eyes as he rocked himself into her, so slow and deep it was almost like they weren’t moving at all. Later, she knew, they would find that old fire again and their lovemaking would become faster and rougher and maybe even carefree.

But that was the future.

For now, all she wanted was this present: the feel of him full inside her, the gentle press of his enormous body against hers, and the sound of his voice promising that this—this—was only ever for her.