Image description: tweets from @ jaboukie that read: “yall need to stop hating on sex scenes and start demanding more non cishet male directors. i promise yall will not hate sex scenes as much
We haven’t really seen what a horny lesbian would do [on] a Hollywood budget”
It’s hard for wlw who grew up in homophobic religions to form connections and not feel bad or weird about their sexuality. It’s especially hard for people who grew up in such a controlled environment where they tried to control how you dressed, who you dated, when you started dating, how often you dated, when you could date one on one, etc to make genuine romantic connections and sometimes people just turn out ace or aro (nothing wrong with that, I love my aro/ace buddies so much <3 ) because of how controlling the environment was. Controlling your teenagers dating life so much to where they can’t even look at someone of another gender or hang out with them (thanks Mormons) does NOT stop them from dating bad people, having s*x, doing anything of that nature. If you try to control them to that point, or your religion does, then it’s going to make things worse. I grew up in the church where if I even had friends of the opposite gender I couldn’t hang out with them alone. This has just made it super hard for me to form actual connections romantic and platonic.
The church’s view on chastity and sex can be harmful. Not everyone is going to want to wait until marriage. It is so so important to educate young people on safety and everything under that umbrella. Ignorance doesn’t mean abstinence. Waiting is perfectly okay too, but everyone still should be educated.
Anthesteria is an eventful time for Dionysus – at least, during the first two days. Dionysus is most involved in the ceremonial opening of the pithoi on the first day, and then the ensuing merrymaking the following day, culminating in the hierogamy… where the basilinna marries Dionysus.
He does not, in fact, “possess” the archon basileus during the hierogamy. Never has; and he expects he never will. He’s heard (but never confirmed) that Zeus and Hera have been known to shoehorn themselves in on the hierogamies held in their honor, and he applauds their interest in keeping the spice in their marriage. But for his part, Dionysus demurs, largely because the basilinna is not particularly meant to be Ariadne. He doesn’t condemn this; apparently, most of Greece is unclear whether Ariadne perished as a mortal, and Ariadne’s said that she rather enjoys the ambiguity. It certainly makes her more mysterious (“and sexy,” he tells her); so doesn’t stop the hierogamies held in his honor.
Nonetheless, he is not interested in even a ceremonial “wife” to take the place of his beloved goddess of the labyrinth; and most years, they informally use the energy of the ritual to amplify their own lovemaking, to great effect.
This year, though, Ariadne has been invited by her father, Minos, to spend the festival with him, working with the ancestral spirits who have come to walk abroad in the land of the living. Dionysus gives her a kiss farewell and a gift of the spirit of the first pithoi to be opened this year, for her to share with his father-in-law.
Well, that leaves him quite free this Anthesteria – and in particular, during the hierogamy. Perhaps he might find a different “queen” to while his time with.
————————-
The tragedy of Pentheus was not unlike many human tragedies of this great and passionate land: which is to say, rather dark and violent. This particular tragedy gained fame in the form of a play, held in Dionysus’ own honor.
The tale was told well – Dionysus rather enjoyed watching the staging. His character was mysterious, witty, dangerous, and sexy. No complaints there. Pentheus was arrogant, bigoted, oppressive, angry.. and, Dionysus thought the actor did well showing his ambiguity. The feelings behind the words. What Pentheus couldn’t show, until the end, when Dionysus had him so wound up and flustered that he finally was able to lead him along to his judgement and destruction.
Sparagmos: tearing apart. Well, one can be torn apart literally and metaphorically, of course.
——————
Dionysus ambles leisurely into his camp. The satyrs and maenads are around somewhere, but not close; he can hear their din in the middle distance. He has given them his blessing to do so. He wants the camp to himself for tonight.
Save for one special guest.
The panther he has in mind is doing a thing cats are so good at – dozing while not dozing. His eyes are closed, but his ears twitch at Dionysus’ approach.
“Hello there, handsome boy,” Dionysus croons, walking over. The panther does open his eyes then, upon being addressed, and turns to face Dionysus. His feline expression is one of dignified aloofness. Very self-contained. A much better look for him, honestly, though Dionysus bets he can make him come undone again.
“You have been a good kitty, hmm? Yes. I have no complaints about you, my darling, not a one.”
Dionysus strokes the heavy, dark-furred head. The panther allows it, closing his eyes again as Dionysus’ hand runs over the smooth pelt, pausing at the golden collar around the neck.
“Perhaps I haven’t rewarded you properly for your dedicated service, my pet. I’ve been remiss. Would you allow me to make it up to you, for a night?”
The golden eyes open again, staring hard at Dionysus. The god smiles.
“Yes. It’s a sacred night of revelry for my followers, after all. I don’t see why you shouldn’t be allowed to participate, my sweet.”
Now the ears are up, listening fully. Dionysus laughs softly.
“Indeed. You’ve earned back the privilege for one night, I do think. So, you may remove your mask, darling…” Dionysus draws his fingers in a circle, around the panther’s throat, where the source of the magic is concentrated in the collar, and steps back. “… and stand upon two legs as before, and gaze upon me with the face of a man once again… Pentheus.”
There is no twisting of limbs, no yowling turned to screeching, nothing gruesome. Nothing like that first transformation
The panther merely stands upon his back legs and then the form drops from him, like a discarded garment, leaving only a rather handsome man standing there, nude and trembling and staring wide-eyed at his human fingers. King Pentheus of Thebes, as he once was.
—————–
The lord of wine, madness and revelry regards the man before him quietly. Pentheus is absorbed with empirically confirming that he is, in fact, a man again, and Dionysus doesn’t interrupt. The night is young, and his new acolyte has been a beast for quite some time now. Both of them can use the opportunity to refamiliarize.
Pentheus’ body is as pleasing as before. The king of Thebes had been fairly young still, when Dionysus had first seen him – only a little older than the god himself. Pentheus’ hair is a thick but well-groomed thatch of black curls; his beard is short and neatly trimmed. He has the proud body of an athlete: lean, well-formed muscles. It’s also the body of a soldier: a few battle scars trace over his body, lovely blemishes to keep him from looking too much like a god.
Noticeably absent are any signs of the last violence to touch his body. No scars indicate that his limbs or organs had ever been anywhere but right where they should be.
The collar remains, as it must.
Dionysus is patient; and after a few moments Pentheus raises his eyes to look at him. His eyes are different now. Wiser, humbler, calmer.
“As I expected. You’ve learned a great deal from your time with us,” Dionysus says. “There’s a sagacity there I didn’t see before.”
Pentheus bows his head in assent – submissively, one might say, if one didn’t see the wry quirk of his lips. Dionysus is glad. That’s the secret untameable part of Pentheus he wants to protect and sustain.
“An educational few months indeed, Dionysus,” Pentheus says, looking back up at him boldly.
No title, still, or epithet. Dionysus isn’t bothered, particularly, as he doesn’t consider himself to be one who stands on formality with even his servants. But he does wonder if he can coax a sweet word out of this proud former king.
(He also wonders if he even wants to. This flash of rebelliousness is not unattractive… though, as with all things, it needs moderation)
Dionysus steps quietly over towards Pentheus, watching a faint tension enter the mortal’s shoulders. “You’ve accepted your punishment quite gracefully, all things considered, but I know life as even a gorgeous panther can’t have been very satisfying.”
“…I’m grateful for your mercy-“ Pentheus begins, a bit cautiously, and shuts up abruptly as Dionysus clucks dismissively and presses his fingers to the man’s lips.
“None of that. Tonight, this most sacred night in my honor, is a night of celebration. You’ve grown; you’ve changed. I think you’re due a taste of the thing you’ve wanted, which you paid such a heavy price for.”
Pentheus stares at him, looking very charmingly nervous now, his earlier bravado taking a step back. “You…?” he half-asks, hoarsely.
Dionysus waits to see if Pentheus can finish the question; but the man trails off. “…Yes, darling, me. You wanted me then, didn’t you? In your palace. In the prison. In the forest.” Dionysus leans over and kisses Pentheus’ throat, just above the collar. Not the lips, not yet – too intimate. Pentheus is still new, after all. “Tonight, my handsome and dutiful friend, I will give you the privilege of taking my body…”
He pauses, and cocks his head. Pentheus is – well – taking an interest, that much is clear at a glance down. But there’s something still holding the king back. Dionysus is mildly surprised; he had thought after so many pent-up months, Pentheus would leap at the chance to take charge of Dionysus… unless… ah.
Dionysus smiles, gently. “Unless, of course, you wanted to take me another way. To the hilt, as it were.” He’s pleased to see a responding flush finally cover Pentheus’ face. “Well, darling. I’m sure you’ve heard by now. I consider myself rather flexible in such matters. I can certainly accommodate.”
Yes, he’s touched on it now. Pentheus’ body is responding rather enticingly… but the former king looks nervous still.
“Speak of your concerns, my pet; tonight is yours,” Dionysus tells him, bringing Pentheus’ fingers up to kiss them one at a time, which produces a delightful little shudder.
“I – could not ask it – “
“I know you couldn’t, my dear. But that was then.”
“I shouldn’t have – it was a wicked thing – ”
“Never wicked. Only fun.” Dionysus runs his thumbs over Pentheus’ nipples, making him jump and then glare at the god, which delights Dionysus.
“You enjoy this. You still enjoy mocking me.” The accusation only sounds pitiful. The torment in Pentheus’ voice is still raw, and Dionysus relents. He’s come a long way, but not all the way.
“You may find this hard to believe,” Dionysus murmurs, brushing a hand over Pentheus’ chest, unsurprised to find the heart racing beneath his fingertips. “…but I don’t want your shame.”
Proud Pentheus manages a faint scoff at that, even though his nerves, and Dionysus smiles. “No, really. Not for this, anyway.” He begins slowly stepping around behind the man, allowing his fingers to trace along Pentheus’ chest and shoulders as he goes. “You have more than a little hubris that you ought to be ashamed of, and I’m still attending to that. But this desire? No. I don’t want you to be shamed for it. There shouldn’t be any shame in it.”
“It’s wrong,” Pentheus rasps.
Dionysus clucks his tongue mildly. “Same old tune. Poor Pentheus, living like this. Believing that something you want so much can be so terrible.”
“You’re all deviants,” and Dionysus is pleased to hear far less conviction and anger than the last time Pentheus had spat this out at him. Now there’s much more confusion, and a hint of something enchantingly beseeching. Please convince me.
“Perhaps. But ‘deviant’ isn’t the same as ‘wicked,’ you know.” Pentheus’ eyes are fixed on a tree nearby, still visibly trying to collect himself, at a time when he ought to be uncollected. Dionysus rests his face on Pentheus’ well-formed back, wrapping his arms around the man’s midsection.
“You still think so little of me? Even after all those salted herrings I’ve slipped you, as a treat,” he complains. As he’d hoped, Pentheus snorts and relaxes incrementally.
“I enjoyed those,” he acknowledges, and with jerking movements, puts one hand atop Dionysus’ own.
“You’ll enjoy this even more,” Dionysus promises, pressing a kiss to the hot skin of his back, sliding his free hand down.
Dionysos yawned. This wasn’t comfortable. The ground was hard and the sun was burning from the sky. He blinked as he looked up into the sky, where Helios was about midway on his daily path. Dionysos waved at him because the titan saw all. There was nothing else above. Nothing all around him, really. Apparently he had spent the night on an island that was nothing more than a rock in the sea with some weeds growing on it. Oh well. Good parties sometimes ended in unexpected places. His purple cloak was the only piece of clothing on him but it was all he needed at this time of year. He didn’t worry about getting off the island. His divine powers provided him with an infinite supply of wine and he didn’t necessarily need to eat. Hermes would notice him eventually and get him back to his retinue.
Dionysos’ outlook changed somewhat when a day had passed and nobody had taken note of him. He decided to drown his boredom with wine and stared sullenly at the wide sea. Oh! There was a ship! Dionysos praised his fate and hurried up to the highest part of the island, making sure they would see his purple cloak flapping in the wind. They were quick to arrive and Dionysos made sure he looked thoroughly unthreatening: a youth in the first flush of manhood, well-dressed, well-kempt, a little tipsy… He assumed a seductive pose, his rich, dark hair waving about him in the breeze as he greeted the sailors jumping ashore.
“Can you take me to Naxos?” he asked, putting on his most innocent expression. Even if his retinue was not on Naxos, it was one of his cult centres and he would gladly wait there to meet up with them.
“Of course, of course,” one of the sailors replied. “Come aboard, boy, we’ll bring you to Naxos.”
Happily, Dionysos let the man help him climb the ship. His limbs were still heavy with wine but he’d sleep it off now that he was on the way to Naxos.
He had just drifted off to sleep when harsh bonds were wrapped around his wrists.
“What…”
If he willed it, no bondage could hold him. But even if those pirates deserved punishment for attempting to overpower him in his sleepy state, a mere boy to their eyes, he decided to play along.
“Are you out of your mind?!” The helmsman came running, tearing his own hair. “What god is this whom you have taken? No matter if it’s Zeus or Apollon of the silver bow or Poseidon of the Aegean Sea, by the gods release him! He is too beautiful to be a mortal man, he must be one of the deathless gods who live on Mount Olympos!”
“He is a beauty all right.” The captain traced Dionysos’ full lips with a thick finger. “But not unearthly so. You are a superstitious man, Akoetes. Go mark the wind and help hoist sail.”
“Epopeus! Please, let us set him free at once, lest he grow angry and send dangerous winds and gales!”
“We men will see to him, Akoetes. When we are through with him, he will tell us where he’s going and who his friends and family are. He is not a god but he was sent this way by one. We leave at once.”
Dionysos gave the helmsman a wicked smile as he passed, making the poor soul grow pale with fear. But he had nothing to worry about.
The pirates fastened his bonds to the sail above his head, making him stand on tip-toe. The captain took off the purple cloak that he had worn about his shoulders, exposing his naked body for all to see.
“Dressed in splendid cloth,” he said, rubbing his bearded cheek on the soft wool, “And I can still smell the perfume.”
Another pirate groped his chest, gliding the hand down to his navel.
“Flawless skin and well-fed. Not to mention drunk on black Maronian wine1. He must be a prince.”
“I’m not drunk,” Dionysos protested, “Just a little tipsy.”
“Who are your friends? Where rules your family?” Epopeus asked gruffly. “Tell us and we’ll ransom you instead of selling you in Ephesos2. Believe me, pretty boys like you make good coin. Unless you want to suck cock for the rest of your life, you better play along.”
“For what have I deserved this cruel wrong?” Dionysos pouted. “You are strong men mocking a lonely boy.”
The captain grabbed his jaw and yanked it up.
“Answer my question, prince!”
Dionysos smiled darkly.
“So that’s how you want it. I’m from Boeotia, the blood of Kadmos3. But you are out of luck, pirate. My family will never ransom me.”
Epopeus growled.
“Ephesos it is, then. Alkimedon, take care of him.”
The man who had groped him grinned.
“You know… Before we sell him, why don’t we have some fun with this pretty boy ourselves? What do you say, captain?”
The men laughed and jeered:
“Just look at his lips. So full and soft. They are made to suck cock.”
“Any new master would take him straight to bed!”
“That’s what I thought. We’ll teach you the new skills you’ll need, little prince.”
Dionysos strained against the bonds.
“You wouldn’t dare…”
“I’ll take my chances. Tie him up good, Melas.”
The short, tan man came at him with more rope. Dionysos watched with a smile in his dark eyes as his wrists were joined above his head, his legs spread by the willow cords around his ankles.
“I’ll be our sweet prince’s lucky first,” Epopeus announced. “Break him in, give that virgin arse a good pounding and all that. Alkimedon, go get the olive oil. We don’t wanna lose any of his value at the slave market.”
He grabbed one of the god’s bum cheeks and squeezed, sending an icy chill down the god’s spine.
“I… I don’t think so…” Dionysos gave his voice a quiver, looking at the pirates with big, wide eyes, taking in their lecherous gaze. Men lusted after him frequently, either for his youthful, feminine beauty or because they actually mistook him for a girl. He gave Epopeus a shy, innocent plea. But to no avail.
“Now don’t expect a cockerel4, little prince,” he said, “But I’m glad to be your first.”
“Please stop, you’re hurting me,” he pleaded in a small voice. But the pirate just chuckled and smacked his bum so hard, tears shot into his eyes.
“Don’t hurt me again,” Dionysos warned, his voice taking on a dangerous edge. The pirates must have noticed too because their jeering died down.
“Or what? You’re tied and fettered, what are you gonna do, sweet prince?”
“Hurt me again and you won’t live to regret it.”
“Don’t get cocky just because Akoetes said you are Apollon.”
“I am not Apollon. If I were, you’d already be dead.”
“Oh yes, I quiver in fear of your shining bow.” He laughed but only three of the others laughed with him. "I think someone needs to be brought down to earth.“ The pirate captain spread the god’s bum cheeks and positioned himself at his entrance.
Thick, red liquid flooded the deck. Epopeus drew back with a fearful cry. It was wine, of course, but at first glance it looked like blood. All fetters fell from the god’s arms, hands, and feet and Dionysos stood in all his divine magnificence. A vine spread out both ways along the top of the sail with many rich clusters of grapes hanging down from it, and a dark ivy-plant twined about the mast, blossoming with flowers and with rich berries growing on it. He covered all the thole-pins with his garlands so the ship almost looked like a garden with the sound of flutes in the distance. The pirates stared, torn between fear and awe.
"I am neither shining Apollon, nor loud-thundering Zeus, nor earth-shaking Poseidon,” Dionysos said with a voice as majestic as any one of those gods. “I am the healer of sorrow, loud-crying Dionysos whom Kadmos’ daughter Semele bore to Zeus, the best source of joy in life for mortal men. But you are not deserving of my gifts, you, who would hurt an innocent boy. Suffer my wrath!”
Dionysos didn’t particularly like transformations. They were quite taxing and reminded him of the part of his childhood he had spent as a goat kid. But there were few things he wouldn’t do for a perfect climax. He called on his divine magic, felt his essence course through his veins as it changed hair into mane, nose into snout, hands into paws and fingernails into claws. He had turned into a big, strong lion. A mighty roar sent the sailors fleeing into the stern of the ship, crowding around the helmsman who was just as pale with fear as the rest of them. Dionysos made a jump at Epopeus, seizing him and sinking his sharp teeth deep into his neck. The other pirates looked on in horror and after a moment of shock, they all jumped overboard into the gleaming sea, escaping this miserable fate. Dionysos tore flesh from bone, delighting in the dark blood spurting from the throat of his victim. Akoetes, the helmsman, was about to make the jump when the god changed back into his human form and held him back.
“Don’t jump, good man. Take courage! You have found favour with my heart. Please, bring me to Naxos, I don’t wish you ill.”
“W-Whatever you wish, Lord Dionysos, is my command!”
“Good.” Dionysos wiped the captain’s blood from his mouth. He looked over the railing at the men struggling in the water. How foolish to think they could escape his wrath. Their skin took on a swarthy hue and fins grew from their curving spines that bent their bodies into crooked shape. Their legs fused into a tail as crescent as the moon and their hands shrivelled into fins until they dove beneath the waves as dolphins, a gift to both Poseidon and Apollon5. They would live out their days hunting after fish and dolphin cunt. Content, Dionysos turned to Akoetes.
“Dispose of the body. I’ll get us some food and wine.”
The rest of the journey was enjoyable indeed and once they reached the port of Naxos, Akoetes became a favoured acolyte of the god.
FIN
Notes
1 Black wine is the ancient Greek expression for red wine. Maronian wine is wine from Maroneia in Thrace, one of the finest wine-producing regions in the ancient world.
2 Ephesos, an ancient Greek city on the coast of modern Turkey, was a centre of the slave trade.
3 Dionysos is not lying, his mother Semele is a daughter of Kadmos, the founder of Thebes in Boeotia.
4 A cockerel was a common courting gift in ancient Greece.
5 Dolphins are sacred to both Poseidon and Apollon.
Piracy and banditry provided a significant and consistent supply of slaves. Pirates and brigands would demand ransom whenever the status of their catch warranted it. Whenever ransom was not paid or not warranted, captives would be sold to a trafficker. In certain areas, piracy was practically a national specialty, as was the case with Etruscans.
Ok but, if sex didn’t involve genitals it’d probably be dope as hell. like, kissing, cuddling, making out with your partner, and feeling good together sound hot but we’re not going all the way lol
James and Lily’s collective first time was interrupted when they were caught in McGonagall’s office by their Head of House herself. Scrambling to clothe themselves, and grateful that they weren’t any further than they were, they accepted their detentions and skulked back to the Gryffindor Common Room.
Thoroughly shaken and put off (and convinced McGonagall was laughing at them), they didn’t try again until their graduation night three months later.
there is a very unique problem that comes up when writing smut where you are often forced to ask:
is this sexy?
is it sexy to other people?
or am i just a big weirdo and it is only sexy to me?
how do i describe the sexy thing without sounding stupid?
are these words sexy enough for the sexy thing?
is this actually gross and everyone is gonna know i’m just a big weirdo?
lol, as if writing smut constantly wasn’t already a dead giveaway.
but anyway. back to trying to figure out if it’s even possible for someone without a single ounce of sexy appeal to write sexy sex that is sexy to people other than big weirdos (me).
they see me as the pretty girl lost in her dirty gritty world drug addled and hiding in pretty dresses hides what they say in white lingerie lies everyday, the games that she plays drinks to numb the ache dies to fade from all her ugly ways her boyfriend doesn’t see her faults and nothing but pain results says she’ll never love anyone but god, she just loves everyone
her sex life fucked up, her body knows a lovely little sin she is but when she goes to put on her clothes pulls out her hair and goes to deadly lows no one knows this side of me they don’t know that i’m fucking crazy i’m a mess, and i know i can’t fix it unless they put me in that hospital shit
one day they’ll find my blood on the wall one day they’ll all see me fall i hope i look pretty in my grave i wonder if when i’m dead they’ll still be depraved i wonder if i’m dead they’ll all still want to fuck me this little girl, mascara crybaby
A/N: Quick update for the second part of Downtime on Deployment. This is not beta-read I have no beta currently (she’s working). Thank you dear reader for your patience and grace you have afforded me.
Word count: 1.8k
Warnings: Explicit language, making out, some explicit spice, and cliffhanger.
Frankie nodded eagerly at the thought of getting to share the bed with Jayme, it was preferable to sleeping in the same room as Santiago, when he was there he snored. “I like that, and while I want to have sex with you I would love to just sleep next to you and hold you,” he tells Jayme in all honesty.
Framing his face and placing a sweet kiss on his lip Jayme loved her Frankie, so sweet, considerate, and even after the ordeal with the General, Tom, and thinking he was long gone he would just be happy to sleep beside her. Making sure to put her shirt on the end table so it’s close at hand should she need it she turned to look at Frankie. Pulling Frankie down to lie beside her she whispered “whatever you want to do, I’m just thankful that you’re here.”
Before he got too comfortable Frankie peeled off his shorts and laid down gathering Jayme close to him, not there was much need to do that. Twin-sized beds don’t offer a lot of room, but neither Jayme nor Frankie minds. Nuzzling her face into his chest Jayme sighs. While she had been amped up and wanted to have sex with Frankie, laying with him now she was content just to be next to him, chest to chest and breathing each other in.
Frankie sighs and looks down and was about to tell Jayme he had missed her again when he notices she was asleep. Smiling he presses a kiss to her forehead and then closes his own eyes joining her in sleep.
Hours later Frankie is woken up by whimpers and cries from Jayme. Rolling her on her back he shakes her gently, “Jayme, Jayme!” he tries to wake her, and she comes to with a gasp and eyes flying open.
“Frankie!” she cries as she wraps her arms around Frankie’s neck and catches her breath. A few moments later she finally relaxes her hold on his neck, “sorry, go back to sleep.” Trying to brush it off and play off what had happened. She moves to turn around with her back to Frankie.
“Oh no you don’t,” Frankie says and scoops her up pulling her into his lap, “don’t shut me out and don’t play it off. What’s going on?” He had a pretty big idea as to what is going on but he wasn’t going to voice it until she shares it.
Taking in the warmth of Frankie’s body, Jayme slowly relaxes. Once she’s finally calm she doesn’t share what caused her very obvious nightmare and Frankie doesn’t push, just laid them back down in the bed and they went back to sleep.
This was the pattern for several nights; sleep, wake with Jayme’s nightmares, then back to sleep, work and repeat. Finally by the fourth night Jayme couldn’t take it anymore, she had hoped that she wouldn’t have a nightmare again but if she did she was going to share with Frankie what it was.
Waking again with the same nightmare Frankie was just getting ready to shift them back to laying down when she grabbed his hand and stopped him. “Hang on,” she says shifting out of his lap so she can look at him in the face, “I can’t keep on like this. I’m having nightmares.”
Getting that off her chest she felt infinitely better already but she knew she needed to share the rest and as she looked at Frankie’s face he was just patiently awaiting her to share with those beautifully soulful brown eyes watching her. “They are about this last mission, except you didn’t make it back, or you did but one of you is missing, or you missing and gone, or the entire team doesn’t make it back. It kills me a little inside every time it happens, even as much as we don’t seem to be on the same team Tom.
“I can’t do this anymore.” Jayme says as she ducks her head. She’s exhausted and if Frankie was going to be honest he was too, but Jayme needed him more than he needed to admit the exhaustion. The team had four more days of rest and they were spending it the best they could. “I’ve tried to be strong, I’ve tried to be resilient but Francisco,” the use of his full given name causes him to pause and look at her closer, “I love you and I don’t think I want to go home without you so please be safe out there.”
Frankie smiles and looks at Jayme, he knew he loves her, and knows she loves him, until now it’s been an unspoken thing, now it’s been spoken, its out in the open and Frankie loves to hear it. “Jayme, I love you too and I promise to do everything I can to make it back to you always, I have I have made that down payment and many more to come.” Frankie presses a kiss to Jayme’s lips enjoying the feeling and now that those words had been spoken and shared they brought a new light and weight to the relationship.
Jayme laced her fingers into Frankie’s hair and pulled him closer to her, it wasn’t close enough she shifted her body, moving to straddle his body while she continued to kiss him. Pulling her closer to him, Frankie’s tongue slipped along her lips seeking admittance and when he gained it he plundered her mouth.
Moaning as his tongue danced with hers Jayme slid her pelvis against his in slow torturing motions as Frankie’s hands moved to her breast, pinching and pulling on the pebbled nipples. Breaking the kiss he ducks his head to take one into his mouth pulling at it with his lips and laving it with his tongue. While his one hand and mouth are busy with her breast he moves the other between where Jayme is perched above him and adjusts his hard length.
Moving one hand from his head she buries it between them rubbing on his hard cock while stroking herself too. Batting her hand away from her own pelvis Frankie pulls the shorts barely covering Jayme aside exposing her to the cooler air of the room. Sweeping a finger through her weeping folds Frankie finds her clit and slowly circles it causing Jayme to gasp.
Palming in through his own shorts Jayme wastes no time in shifting to remove not only hers but also his shorts. Finally, free the weight of Frankie in her palm is heady and stoking her fire and lust more. Bringing her thumb up she swipes it through the pearl of moisture gathering at the tip. Usually, there would be more fun and foreplay involved but tonight it was quick and to the point. Jayme leaned up to line Frankie up when he scooped her up and flipped them over, and as he lined up he continued to play with her secret pearl.
As he breached her center slowly he continued swiping at her, bringing her closer and closer to the edge. Inch by glorious inch Frankie settled in, while there was an urgency in need each other, wanting each other he couldn’t help but go slowly. Weeks without Jayme’s touch paired with the freshly spoken admissions of love, slow was perfect.
As Frankie continued to sink into Jayme she wrapped one leg around his hips and pulled him back down to her lips, kissing him and running her hands across his shoulders and through his hair. When he finally bottomed out, he rested his forehead against hers and just stayed still enjoying the sensation of Jayme fluttering around him and Jayme enjoying Franking throbbing inside her.
Beginning to move Frankie slowly withdrew and then sunk back into Jayme, and continued to piston into her slowly with Jayme arching to meet each thrust, enjoying the slow methodical movement all while stroking at her clit every once in a while with no pattern. Continuing Frankie changed the angle of his hips and allowed him to hit that secret spot inside of Jayme causing her to call out and forcing Frankie to kiss her in order to keep her quiet.
Between Frankie’s finger and the divine feeling of him pistoning in and out of her stroking her deeply it didn’t take long before Jayme was falling over the edge into the blissful orgasm that she had sought and missed for so long with Frankie.
Feeling Jayme grip him and watching her fall apart with an awe-inspiring beauty Frankie soon followed her over the cusp of orgasmic bliss. Collapsing onto the bed to the side to keep from crushing Jayme they cuddled with each other while sweaty and Frankie still deep inside of her.
Catching their breath and cooling down Frankie finally gets up and grabs the extra towel that was in Jayme’s room and cleans her up. Once she’s clean and Frankie wipes himself up he tosses the towel onto the floor to be washed later. Getting back in bed and gathering Jayme back up in his arms he savors the feel of her beside him.
He wouldn’t admit it tonight but there was a time during that week that the team went missing he wondered if he would get to see her again, now he was back and in bed, with her, the next beautiful thing was that they had vocally stated their love. Looking down at her Frankie decided he wanted the next step when they got back to the states.
Tilting her face up Jayme kissed Frankie’s chin, “I love you Frankie” she whispers and closes her eyes as she wraps her arm around him.
Pressing a kiss to her temple Frankie smiles “I love you too Jayme,” and settled himself down while they both drifted off to sleep. The rest of the night went peacefully, there were no more nightmares that night for Jayme.
The next night went smoothly as well, there were no nightmares. Finally, by the last night of the team’s downtime, the nightmares had subsided. Smiling at Frankie as they dressed in the morning, Jayme gave him one more kiss on the cheek and they head for the team’s office. Getting there they met up with Will, Benny, and Santiago, but beat Tom into the office.
Finally, thirty minutes later Tom comes in along with General Watson looking like the cat that had caught the canary. “Pack your shit! You’re done here, you’re getting the hell off my base and even your cousin can’t save you this time Lieutenant!”
“Can we at least ask why you’re sending us back to the states before our rotation is done, sir?” Will asks ever the diplomat.
“Oh absolutely, you’re being court-martialed. All of you,” was the response from General Watson. As the team took time looking at each other and took in the weight of the situation hitting them and settling. “You’re out of here by the end of the day!” With that General Watson strode out of the room like nothing was wrong.
As the reality sunk in and just before they sprung into action Benny seemed to sum up the entire situation in two words.
So I am feeling much better now. This was a request that was submitted awhile ago that was way over do, this time featuring a dragon shifter! But nsfw, it’s been awhile since I wrote a short story that focused on nsfw stuff. I did notice I lost a bunch of followers in one go, but that’s okay! Anyways! If you like my work and want to read more, here is my MASTERLIST! *Disclaimer! None of the pictures are mine, all credit goes to the original artists!
A low snarl came from Cassius as a whine followed from you, his hands gripping your thighs in a bruising manner, something you had come to admire after sessions like these were over. But now, there was nothing but pure indulgence being shared between the two of you as he moved above you. His hands pinned yours down to the mattress, his body nearly engulfing you, making you melt under him so that he could mold you into whatever he wanted. He was bigger than you in more ways than one, which did nothing but fuel the desire you felt for him.
Gold flashed before you, you knew that look as he slowed his almost brutal pace. You were so close, teetering on the edge of tipping into that bliss that came with sessions like this when it was all about the pleasure and little about the love. Cassius still showed he loved you during times like this, murmuring soft praises in between each groan. He slowly pulled himself away from you, causing a moan of protest to fall from your lips. He merely chuckled at how you pouted up at him. God he had no business looking so sexy even when he smirked down at you, fully knowing what he was doing.
“Baby girl, you know I don’t like when you pout.” He growled, he gently cupped your chin, brushing his thumb along your bottom lip. “But I want to see you make yourself come without me touching you.” It wasn’t a command that you should be protesting but you started to nevertheless.
“But daddy!” You cried in frustration, you were so close and you had been so good all day. “I’ve been good! I even behaved myself today when I got frustrated!” The pout became more obvious and for a brief moment, a frown crossed his features.
“If you don’t do what I say, you don’t get to come at all.” He responded in a cool tone, knowing that if he let you get to him this way, you would act out the next thinking that you had him under your spell. “The reward will be with it. Trust me.” He cooed in reassurance.
That eased you a little bit, begrudgingly you sighed and merely nodded. “Yes daddy.” You murmured, sliding a hand down along your body, parting your legs a bit more so you could put on a show for him like you always did. Your hand slid right between them, immediately beginning to rub small circles on your clit and a soft moan came from you at the instant satisfaction you were getting. His gaze never left your fingers as a shaky sigh came from him.
You quickened your pace, whining softly as you then slid two fingers into yourself, pumping them slowly as you used the palm of your hand to rub your clit. With how everything had been building up before, it didn’t take long for that coil in your lower stomach to snap and you to reach your high. Even then you didn’t stop, deciding to continue to put on that bit of a show for Cassius, that is until he had pulled your hand away from you and licked your fingers clean with a groan of satisfaction.
“Good girl…” He cooed softly, deciding to give you what you had wanted, he wrapped your legs around his waist as he buried himself as deep within you as possible. You shivered in response, still sensitive from your first high. He carefully wrapped one hand around your throat, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Safe word?” He asked, as he always did right before this kind of session.
“Ducky.” You responded eagerly, already throbbing at him having put his hand around your throat, you huffed, digging your heel into his back to get him to move since now you got what you wanted.
“Careful baby, I’m not taking it easy on you tonight, you have a whole weekend with me.” He grinned down at you, flashing his fangs that you loved so much. Rather than give you the time to respond, he immediately pulled back out all the way only to thrust all the way back in harshly which caused a gasp to come from you. He set a brutal pace, the bed creaked underneath the two of you from the sheer force of him. You dragged your nails down along his arms, feeling what scales there were since some of the dragon features didn’t quite go away even in his ‘normal’ form.
He had made sure to bring you to that high over and over again throughout the entire night and even into the next morning until your bodies gave out and he was no longer able to keep going. After he had made sure that you definitely weren’t going to be walking the next day, he had carefully cleaned you up and made sure you drank some water before he tugged you into his arms to rest. You cuddled right up to him, his arms wrapped around you, making you feel secure within his embrace, like nothing could ever get you as long as you had him.
