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Chapter Text

QUAINT LITTLE CANDY SHOP 🎃 Finnrose 🍂 Modern AU Fluff

MORE RAIN 🎃 Reylo 🍂 Modern AU Angst

HE WORE RED 🎃 Reylo 🍂 Little Red Riding Hood AU [Role Reversal // Sexually Explicit]

Chapter Text

He enters with extravagant ceremony, Rey traipsing in beside him and giggling all the while with a tootsie pop in her mouth and an impish expression on her face, but both halt at once as the delicious banquet of smells greet them. Sugary, sweet, deliriously bad for the teeth and perfect. 

The candy shop sits in a quiet little section of neighborhood a couple blocks away from main street, its windows painted with grinning ghosts, awkward spiderwebs and dancing cats. Orange and black streamers hang from the ceiling and one of the tables near the entrance showcases a laughing skull candle with a bloated cauldron of candy. Spooky music plays in the background with a series of thumps and scrapes. Then, laughter. 

Perfect, he grins.

“Can I help you?” a voice calls from the register.

Finn turns and spots a short girl with a pleasant smile, the cherry flush of her round cheeks giving her a youthful manner. His grin widens. “Where are your cupcakes?”

Rey jabs his side, at once. “You’ve had enough cupcakes.”

“The month isn’t over yet.” He winks at her. 

“Well, don’t expect me to be sitting by your bedside while you recover from a sugar overload like last year.”

“I was not that bad.” Finn argues.

Rey crosses her arms, unimpressed. “You threw up five times in one night.”

“So… do you not want to see the cupcakes, or do you?”

The two glance back to the register where the girl waits, a hint of annoyance betrayed in her dark eyes. Finn studies her for a moment, marking the tightness in her shoulders, the restless wandering of her hands over the counter, the shrewd candor marking her cherub face. His gaze then drops to the glossy name tag at her shirt pocket. Rose. 

“Yes.” he answers. 

Rey makes a disapproving sound as Rose turns on her heel and heads over to the dessert display case. Finn follows quickly after her, finding the appealing if glaring contrast of her bouncing ponytail and her stern, businesslike gait–cute isn’t exactly the word he’s looking for, but it’s in the same ball park. There’s something charming about her prickly demeanor. Something bewitching. Unfortunately, his attention is stolen the instant they reach the display case.

“Oh damn! They have slime-covered sugar cookies!” Rey gushes. 

“Were this any other part of the year I’d question your sanity.” he teases, staring longingly at the sucrose-laden tiers of absolute sin. 

A low chime of laughter slips from behind the counter and Finn looks up to find Rose clamping her hand over her mouth to stifle it. He smiles on impulse and she quickly averts her eyes.

“Hurry up and pick your poison.” Rey nudges him.

“I’m considering buying the whole damn display.” 

She scoffs. “You’d be buying it all on your own. I need my paycheck this month.”

“Let’s just hope Poe doesn’t find the stash before tomorrow night.” he remarks with a huff of annoyance. 

“Yeah. I’ve never seen two men fist-fight over a bag of skittles before, but–”

“They were skittles, Rey. Skittles.” He grasps her shoulders as if to convince her of the hard candy’s sanctity. “I’d have thought someone like you would understand.”

Her glare sparks like flint stone. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t play coy just because you’re in front of a stranger. You and I both know you can slam a cauldron of candy faster than Poe and I combined. Probably faster than Ben and Kaydel, too.”

Rey blushes profusely. “I don’t do that!”

“Uh huh.” he intones smugly, then turns to Rose. “I’ll take ten of your spider cakes, ten of your one-eyed monster muffins, fifteen of your banshee brownies–”

“Fifteen?” Rey cuts in, her tone incredulous. “We are having a small party, Finn. It’s not like we’re feeding the entire block!”

“Poe.” he answers simply, as if this is a sufficient enough reply.

“You’re ridiculous.”

Finn ignores her, continuing with his order as he pulls out his wallet. “And I’ll take twenty of your cinnamon zombie fingers.” 

Rey scoffs as Rose sets to readying their order. “Add three bags of Milky Ways to that.” she says.

“Preparing to wolf all those down by yourself?” he teases. 

“Kaydel likes them, too, you ass.” she fires back petulantly as she hands him her part of the bill. 

He takes the money with a grin. “Yeah, that’s why all the wrappers were in Kaydel’s pockets on laundry day.”

“Will that be all?” Rose asks in between their playful spat.

Finn nods. 

The girl again betrays herself, revealing a wistful expression she hastily tries to conceal as she looks away. It’s fleeting, a subtlety he would have missed had he not been staring directly into her eyes at that exact moment. A thought comes into his mind and he considers it briefly as he watches her dial up their total.

“$64.19.” 

He places the money on the counter and decides to say it before he loses his nerve. “By the way, would you like to come to our party?”

Rose pauses midway of counting his change. “What? Me?”

“Yeah.” He turns to Rey’s bewildered expression before smiling back at Rose. “Would you want to come?”

“I… uh…”

“We don’t bite. Well… Ben does, but he won’t be around much.” Rey quickly chimes in, a knowing flicker suddenly lighting her gaze.

Finn glares at her. “Ben will be too distracted by you, anyway.” He focuses on Rose again. “So, what do you say? I know this is out of nowhere and you don’t know us, but you seem cool and–”

“Sure.”

Her answer takes him by surprise and he stares at her, dumbfounded. “Really?”

“Yeah.” she says casually, offering him his change, though he can see there is nothing casual going on in her brain. A higher color tints her cheeks and she fidgets openly with the metal lip of the cash register. 

“Okay. Okay. Awesome! I’m–”

“Finn,” she interjects, a slow, bashful smile lighting her face. “And you’re Rey.” She nods to Rey.

“So we’ll pick you up here?” Rey asks as she throws a knowing smirk at Finn. 

She better not tell the others. Especially since the ribbing would be well deserved after all the pranks he’s pulled on them, particularly Ben. The thought of Ben’s sly grin following him throughout the party is enough to make Finn want to dig a hole and bury himself in shame.   

“I get off at five.” Rose says. 

“O-oh. Awesome!” he stutters–way to look normal, genius. “We’ll be here!”

“You said ‘awesome’ already.” Rey deadpans, a hint of mirth lacing her voice.

Finn has half a mind to stick his tongue out at her. “Grab your damn Milky Ways. I’ve got the other bags.”

“See you tomorrow night!” Rey sing-songs to Rose over her shoulder as they leave the shop.

Finn, on the other hand, ducks his head and exits with haste, a fiery blush branding his cheeks.

Chapter Text

It’s been a month. A month since he’d left the city, a month since he forfeited what could have been the most prestigious and lucrative career move of his life and had come here to this place. 

Kylo looks out across the water to the indomitable wall of fog and the hazy outline of trees on the other shore. It’s unearthly, calming–this quiet. He’d promised himself he would never come back here, but he had never realized how much he craved it while trapped in that barren space known as his apartment. He sees himself at his window, a stark ghostly refection overlooking the structures below, contemplating his rise to power for an empty master with an empty vision. 

Empty.

The rotting dock creaks as a whisper of autumn wind skims across the water and disturbs the fog. Tendrils of gauzy powder blue coil and dance, giving the mist an eerily lifelike appearance of some blood-curdling monster from the depths of a Lovecraftian Horror. The Shoggoth, maybe. 

He shakes his head. Tempting those old fears from his childhood always proves to rob him of sleep. One never truly forgets their fears. Such things merely lie dormant, waiting for you to find them again.

Midday thunder sounds overhead. More rain. 

He leans forward with his elbows on his knees and his chin resting in his palms, eyes purposely scanning the fog, the water, looking for her. The first time he’d seen her happened on the third night, a soft figure out over the lake as he’d glanced through the living room window. Then, gone. 

After convincing himself it had been nothing more than a hallucination, he’d tossed it from his mind. Insomnia and loneliness could make people see lots of things. 

But a second time…?

It had happened on the seventh morning, predawn, a scalding mug of coffee in his hand and his thoughts agitated, restless as he stood on the dock, a wool blanket wrapped around his hulking shoulders and his hair in disarray. Still, no sleep. Thoughts of his father had plagued his mind, confrontations with his mother, ugly confrontations. His uncle and the night when everything that could have gone wrong had. Vile shame had skewered him like a poisoned lance and he’d nearly thrown the coffee, cup and all, into the placid black water, but…

There she was again. 

Faint and ethereal. Hands at her sides. Watching him.

Kylo had felt her gaze, a strange magnetic thing that seemed to dredge up something secret inside of him, some forgotten emotion that made his heart ache. An eternity had passed until at last, the sun broke through the trees, casting its soft golden rays atop the water, and she’d vanished, like smoke on a breeze. The ache in him magnified tenfold and he had found himself reaching out to her. It was only later when thinking back that he realized he’d spoken, seconds before she disappeared, three mundane little words. 

“It is you.”

He looks out across the water to that wall of fog again, waiting. He will wait all day today. Maybe even tomorrow. It’s not like he has any pressing affairs in his schedule. A sardonic part of him chuckles bitterly. No, you made sure of that.  

In a sudden burst of rage, Kylo swipes his hand out to the side, knocking the cold cup of coffee from the bench and sending it flying into the water before grabbing his hair and pulling in frustration.

“What am I doing?!” 

His outburst ruptures the stillness, a violent smear on an otherwise picturesque scene.

You’re losing your mind, Ben. That’s what.

The voice cuts through his thoughts like an intruder and he recoils at once. It’s been a year since that voice had haunted his mind, infesting him like a bad dream. Longer still since the owner of that voice had spoken to him at all.

“Shut up! It’s not Ben. I told you to stop calling me that!”

Yeah, yeah. Keep lying to yourself, kid.

Combing rough hands through his hair, Kylo launches to his feet and walks out on the edge of the dock, walks back, glowers at the treeline, the fog, then repeats. He does this several more times until a jarring boom of thunder startles him out of his skin and he bites down hard on his tongue. Cursing aloud he dabs an index finger into his mouth and comes away with blood. A wild fork of lightning suddenly fractures the sky followed by another roll of snarling booms. It beats like a war drum and roars, out to the farthest reaches of the horizon and back. 

“More rain.” he mutters.

He is answered seconds later by a torrential downpour. It soaks his shirt, his pants, leaving him a soggy mess of exposed muscle lines and sticky fabric, and he resists the urge to howl madly at the sky. What use will it do?

Besides, she didn’t come.

Kylo leaves the dock, embittered, forlorn.

He sits for the rest of the afternoon in his father’s old arm chair located by the fireplace, not even bothering to remove his wet clothing. He chooses this spot because it gives him an unimpeded view of the lake and he holds out hope, but the hours drag on. The storm drags on. Darkening.

Darkening.

Soon enough his eyes begin to droop. The crackling fire gives way to lethargic glowing embers and the early night sets in. A chill invades his body, making his bones ache, but he’s too stubborn to grab a blanket, or maybe just too tired. Either way…

He feels his head falling back, slowly, slowly – then, the soft cushion of leather, the phantom caress of small fingers, a moist breath on his brow –

His eyes snap open.

A face hovers before his, a soft face with a pert nose, modest lips, a dust of freckles. She has freckles. 

“You.” he murmurs, bewitched.

She leans down to his lips, skimming her fingertips over his mouth, his jaw line, his ears. 

“I like your ears.” she comments tenderly.

“I knew you were real.” Kylo reaches forward, seizing her with no intention of letting her go.

She straddles him, curling her arms around his head and bringing it to her chest, pressing it to her heart. “Do you think you’re dreaming?”

“No.” he asserts firmly.

“Are you sure?” she asks as she kisses his hair, her warm breath tickling his scalp.

“No.” 

“What if you are?” Her tone laces with sorrow. He allows her hands to pull his head back, to comb through his hair and cradle his skull. “What if you’re dreaming, Ben?”

The sound of his name on her lips shocks him with heat. It spreads from his chest through his extremities like a burgeoning flame and he pulls her down, kissing her at last. She tastes like summer, like afternoon walks and daisies, like the rich burnt yellow of the evening sun. He relishes it, claiming her mouth with his tongue and pulling her closer. Always closer. 

“You’re real. I know you’re real.” he professes between kisses, his words uneven and sharp – desperate. 

She clasps his face. “It’s not fair.”

He clings to her, unsure of what she means, but knowing in his bones that he agrees. It’s not fair. None of it. After all this time, they’ve finally found one another. And then, he knows. He’s seen this woman before, somewhere far and distant, somewhere forgotten. In a day dream. In a nightmare.

“Stay with me.” he begs.

She looks away, unshed tears shivering at the corners of her eyes. “You know I can’t. You know the rules don’t work that way.”

“Fuck the rules!” he hisses as he grabs her cheeks, his powerful hands dwarfing her face.

Just a little longer, his mind beseeches. Just a little longer!

She holds to him, but he can already feel the dream fading, he can feel her warmth fading. All too soon his mind is filled with the black emptiness of dreamless sleep and he howls in anguish. 

Waking the next morning to an empty house, cold, predawn again, he gets up from his father’s chair and showers, puts on one of his father’s flannel shirts and rekindles the fire. He goes out to the dock with a scalding cup of coffee and sits. 

He sits all morning. 

Chapter Text

He runs, a gauche streak of red through the forest, sweat drenching his back, arms pumping, hair littered with leaves. Trees reach out for him, their limbs twisted and hungry like the dancing bones of the sleepless haunts within the catacombs. Above him, the thick canopy opens in a sliver of starlight, winking diamonds trapped in a gaping maw of darkness. 

And she’s gaining on him, her sharp breaths slicing through the underbrush with earnest as his heart hammers in his chest. Crickets fall still in their wake, dozing birds take frantically to the sky and he swears he can hear her laughter as he stumbles over an exposed tree root. Risking a glance behind him he sees the rushing blur of sleek brown hot on his heels. Unrelenting.

A fresh burst of adrenaline surges through his legs and his cape bellows out after him, an alluring tinge of blood. He realizes how unfortunate wearing such a color can be in this situation, like a fiery beacon to a moth. The scabbard hitched to his belt slaps emptily at his thigh, its more deadly counterpart lost somewhere behind him in the dense greenery… when she’d pounced upon him, all teeth and wild eyes, tearing his sword from his grip with a fiendish grin.  

The irony isn’t lost upon him: two hunters seeking one another. This kind of story only has one ending… and he is now without a weapon. Pity, he thinks offhandedly. 

Suddenly, he finds himself flying to the ground, a solid, hot body scrambling over his back and he twists, flipping around and grabbing at whatever he can find. Fur slips through his fingers as a vivid set of eyes bare down upon him and he pushes back, thankfully finding the strength to shove the animal away enough to avoid those deadly teeth. She glares at him, the delicate line of her snout touched by moonlight and her tongue slipping over her lips in an almost lascivious way.

His breath catches and they stare at one another, suspended in silence. The world around them lessens, dims and, eventually, disappears entirely. 

She presses her paws into his chest, grinding her nails through the fabric of his tunic and he hisses. This seems to excite her further and she leans forward against his opposing hands, that vibrant tongue painting over her teeth again and her tail swinging once–back and forth. Then, he feels her body shifting position, her hind legs settling along the sides of his hips and her lower half pressing more firmly into him. 

Just when he begins to contemplate the curious heat in her eyes, her body changes, the fur between his fingertips giving way to smooth, sun-touched skin; untamed hair, the color of warm autumn, falling around her shoulders and hard gold crescents surrendering to a forest green stare. He gapes in shock, his hands sliding limply down her shoulders to her forearms and she smirks, a mischievous tug at the corners of a modest mouth.  

Yet she is anything but, sitting naked atop him with her hands still planted firmly over his chest. Tilting her head, she presses her hips into him and he gasps, jerking forward on instinct, realizing he is already half hard.

When…?

She does it again and his gloved hands anchor at her side, digging mercilessly into her lower back. The smirk widens into a grin as she risks a gentle caress along his knuckles. “They’re big–you’re hands.” she muses aloud. “I like that.”

He inhales deeply, the sound of her voice pulling at something arcane within him and he basks in it, closing his eyes, planting his feet and angling his hips up to hers. She smells like sweet forest leaves, like cinnamon and burning cedar. Warmth and heat. 

“I’m not sure if I want to eat you, or…” she trails off, reaching behind her and pressing a firm hand against the seat of his trousers, her gaze never breaking from his. 

He grinds into her roughly, pulling her hips down and baring his teeth at the friction, sensing the animal charge in the air. Is she doing that, or is he? What is this feeling?

“Well, you should make up your mind, before I make it for you.”

Her grin deepens, positively impish on those soft lines. “And what would your choice be, hunter? Kill me,” she pauses, coming close to his face, her lips tickling the side of his jaw, “or kiss me?”

“I’m not sure.” he answers honestly as he glides his hands up her sides to her chest.

She throws her head back at the touch of his hands on her breasts, her mouth falling open and a blush suffusing her cheeks. “I’ve never done this. This isn’t how I…” she stammers, a flicker of timidity crossing her features.

He stares up at her in a daze, his baser instincts overriding his rational mind as he runs his thumbs over the sensitive tips of her aching breasts. She bites her lower lip and closes her eyes, riding over his length and reminding him–rather painfully–that he is still fully clothed. He follows the high color down her bust to those taut, rosy nipples and his mouth waters.

“Take them off!” she suddenly growls impatiently, motioning to his gloves.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” he bristles, only half joking, and jerks her down to his lips. 

She cries out as he latches onto her bosom, taking one begging nipple between his teeth, then the other, lavishing her skin with his tongue all the while, tasting her, breathing her in and scenting her. He can smell her desire, a low, feminine musk laced within the cinnamon and cedar, and he moans against her skin, delighting in the sensation of her wetness soaking through his trousers. 

Heat. So much heat.

The arcane feeling within him abruptly magnifies to something frantic and savage, purely devilish. He attempts to compel it into submission, but it refuses, bursting through his veins like wildfire and willing him to push her back and capture her eyes, to commit her to him now. She stares down in terrified fascination, chest glistening with his kisses and lashes fluttering. 

“We’re aren’t so different.” she murmurs, hypnotized.

“No.” he agrees huskily.

She reaches out to touch his face, but he moves at once, rolling her over and pinning her to the ground. A surprised gasp departs her lips, though she can no more protest than cry out before he sinks his teeth into her neck, tattooing her flesh. Her hands scramble at his arms, his hair, pulling viciously at the roots and making his blood howl. He sits back, taking a moment to admire his handiwork. 

She glowers up at him petulantly, the fresh bruise darkening like a brand. “Satisfied?”

He doesn’t reply, instead, leisurely removing his gloves; one, then the other. She watches with rapt fascination, the shyness returning on the heels of that lovely tongue darting out and wetting her mouth. He follows its movement as he slips his bare fingertips under her knees, delighting in the electricity that passes between them, and pushes her legs up, spreading them wide. 

She opens to him like a moonflower, the sweet fragrance of her arousal inundating his mind to the point of madness. This part of himself, a part he has always denied–he wonders why he had ever done such a thing.

“Not until I kiss you.” he finally answers, claiming her lips with an fervent snarl.

She clings to him, snaking one arm around his neck while her opposite hand journeys south to the drawstring of his trousers. His breath hitches as he senses the pressure of her palm against his erection, feeling along his length and his body shudders.

Her tongue flicks playfully at his open mouth. “I could bite you.” she warns hungrily. “I could make you mine.”

He considers the challenge, wondering if being a werewolf would actually be so bad, then decides to bite her again, this time circling her clit with the press of his thumb and stroking his index finger over the welcoming slick of her folds. Her hips cant forward eagerly and she digs her nails into his shirt, a frustrated scowl scrunching her face at his overabundance of clothing. He chuckles at the sight; however, the sound quickly morphs into an indignant huff as she makes little work of his shirt and tunic, ripping them cleanly down the middle and exposing his flesh to the chilly night air.

Meeting his eyes, she skims her fingertips over the expanse of his chest, slipping the ruined fabric off his shoulders and coming to the brooch of his cloak. She releases it, allowing the heavy raiment to cascade off his back and pool on the ground behind them, a blot of black and crimson against the forest floor. Then, she roams her way back down his front, teasing the sensitive line of hair below his navel to the drawstring of his trousers with a tentative touch. 

She hesitates, her gaze wavering. “We’re enemies. This is wrong.”

He doesn’t deny her. He simply hovers over her, studying her down-turned face intently, the warm dust of freckles over the bridge of her nose, the blossoming marks of his teeth on her neck, the smooth angle of her jaw, the quaint little scar on her cheek. “Does it matter?” he finally says. 

Her head snaps up to him, the lustful haze having ignited the wolfish gold of her eyes like two burning candles. They flicker and dim, flicker and brighten, and he finds himself drawn into her, leaning closer, closer. 

“No.” she whispers against his lips, pulling the knot of his drawstrings free and hooking her fingers under the hem of the garment.

He breathes into her mouth as she slowly and deliberately drags his trousers to his knees, releasing his erection at last. He shivers at the coolness of the air and she wraps her legs protectively around his hips, shielding his cock between her thighs. The heat of her skin radiates through him, filling him with a desire so profound he can’t help pressing her firmly to the ground, melding her body to his and groaning as she reaches down, testing the weight of him in her hand. He shudders unevenly and jerks forward into her grip as she teases the head of his shaft with curious fingers, smearing the dampness there in small prim circles. 

Then, she does something utterly lecherous. 

She brings the hand to her mouth and tastes the tips of her fingers, eyes crawling up to his in blatant provocation. His jaw falls open and he gapes at her, thoroughly aroused and offended at all once, offended that this little hellion thinks she can shift the balance of power so easily.

His cock twitches.

She smiles. “I think I might bite you, after all.” 

“You think so?” he grates out as her hand encloses back around his erection. “That would be difficult if I killed you first.”

The conviction in his voice is a mockery, one even he knows cannot be hidden.

Her teeth flash at him in a playful grin and she shifts the angle of her hips, tilting her pelvis up and bringing her body impossibly closer. His jaw works as she touches the tip of his cock to the persuasive heat of her cunt, daring him. He holds his hips frozen in place, not willing to give ground, not willing to let her–

– she lets go of his shaft and slips a finger inside herself, goading him with that same that playful grin and he watches spellbound as her eyes roll back, as her back bows up to meet his and her hips cant forward, pressing his cock between the sweltering heat of their bodies. He grits his teeth, unable to take his eyes off her expression as she circles her finger, drawing it out with a moan and spreading her slickness over his length.

He releases a sharp exhale, biting back a groan and stilling her hand with an iron grip. They remain this way for an eternity, his hand over hers as she holds him at her mercy, the forest around them suspended in dreamlike silence. 

 “Still think you can kill me, hunter?” she asks, brushing her nose along his jaw.

They both know the answer, though his pride won’t let him acknowledge it. Now now, anyway. So instead, he releases her hand and lets her guide him to her entrance. He lets her tease herself with him, smoothing his tip between her folds and relishing the silky friction. He lets her nibble coquettishly at his neck, her teeth never breaking his skin and then she’s urging him inside her.

He doesn’t leave her waiting, gradually burying himself to the hilt and listening to her purr contentedly into his ear. He releases a breath against her cheek he hadn’t realize he’s been holding and pulls out of her, easing in only half way, rotating his hips, then ramming down hard. She throws her head back, a delicious cry pouring from her lips and he does it again, and again, building the rhythm in a way that has her writhing beneath him, her nails drawing wounds down his back and her eyes clamped shut. 

Sweat drenches her skin, bestowing upon it a surreal glow and her breasts bounce enthusiastically with every thrust, leaving him memorized. Words pour from her mouth, simple words like more, harder and there, and the wild sensations inside him are teetering, threatening to tumble over some unseen edge into an abyss he has no name for.

He growls lowly, lifting both of her legs over his shoulders and dragging her hips to him with a lewd smack. Her eyes fly open instantly at the sensation of the new angle and she chokes on a surprised scream, her core pulsing around him. He groans, unable to control the rhythm of his thrusts any longer. She forces her head back into the ground as her body grows taut, her back curling upward and her heels digging into him.

They’re both so close–

–but he holds the orgasm from her, deciding it’s now his turn to play. “Tell me your mine.” he pants. “Tell me your mine.”

She peers up at him hazily at first, her mind numbed by the imperative need for release. Then, her eyes are spitting fire. He stops his movements entirely gawks in outrage, though before he can extract himself from her she grabs his hips, biting her nails into his skin. He hisses.

“Don’t stop.” Her tone takes on a dangerous edge, one that makes his blood kindle with savage desire.

“Then, tell me.” he counters, unable to suppress the smirk tugging at his lips.

Her tongue works behind her mouth, pressing at corners, swiping over teeth. “You’re a beast.”

He leans down, nuzzling her neck. “Tell me.”

She moans at the slightest sensation of movement between them, her core pulsing again. 

“Just tell me.”

She shakes her head.

He finds his way to the sensitive flesh just below her ear and presses his lips there, whispering against her skin. “Please.” 

The single word is spoken in such gentle tones that a startled sob leaves her throat. Her limbs tremble around him and he can feel her heart thundering against his chest, urging the possessiveness in him to grow, breeding a dark and deadly thing. It howls in the pit of his gut, reaching for her.

“Please.” he says again.

She turns to him, her breath tickling the nape of his neck. “Tell me you’re mine and we’ll call it even.”

Smirking into her hair, he plants a chaste kiss on the shell of her ear, but does not acquiesce to her request. 

Raising up he looks down at her with devouring eyes and clutches her hips as she matches his intensity, the grit of her teeth only adding to his desire for completion. She opens her mouth, likely to taunt him, but he doesn’t allow her the chance, pumping his hips roughly into hers and eliciting an exquisite cry from her lungs. Another follows as he descends into an erratic and delirious tempo, hitting her deeper and deeper with each thrust, driving them both to the edge of oblivion.

And then he’s falling, teetering over the precipice and groaning up to the sky, the broken edges of his voice serrated and breathless as his cock twitches and jerks with his release. She hastily follows him down, her tight walls pulsing and squeezing him in a blissful vice of heat and he relinquishes another sputtering growl. He falls forward, catching himself on his elbow and a bark of pain shoots up his shoulder, but it’s a distant sensation in the wake of her wild smoldering eyes gazing up at him, mouth parted in shallow gasps and chest trembling. 

He cradles her, unwilling to let go.