The Safe Place

flying-vy:

thoibodi:

Erik/Charles

Germany/Italy

Erik/Charles!!!!!!

*móc mắt*

hảo lớ hảo lớ :”> 

Jack likes Jack…and Christine

It all started with a bottle of Jack. Jackie never could resist the stuff, even less so when the bottle’s being held by a little minx of a nurse.

Ten or so shots later (who’s keeping count when half those shots were off her stomach?), he can’t focus on anything but the way even her underwear was cute. Jackie wanted to touch it all, every ribbon, every fold of the fabric, every inch of skin, but Christine had other ideas. For being a nurse she sure lacked patience - a note he teased her on frequently when he’d come to visit her at her apartment.

But right now, right now all he could feel was her hand as it guided his to her chest. With a grin he squeezed, loving the way her eyes closed and her head fell back. Her pink mouth made the best noises. His grin gave way to a chuckle as she rolled against him. Jackie didn’t know what love was, but he was sure he liked Christine better than the other girls he’d seen.

When he finally woke in the morning, Chris had a cup of Gatorade and some aspirin for him. He drank all the time, even more so when he was preforming in his band, didn’t she know he was used to it by now? Jackie still took it; he couldn’t say no to the bubbly nurse. 

As she slid back into bed, he managed to grab his phone and take a picture.

It wasn’t perfect and he couldn’t see her face, but he’d know that backside anywhere.

“What’d you just do?” She laughed, yawning a bit as she rolled over onto her back and looked at him.

Smiling himself, he tucked some blond hair behind her ear. “I was checking the time.”

Raising an eyebrow, she poked his side. “You hungry? I am. I want waffles.”

The way her eyes lit up at the thought of the waffles made him laugh. Leaning down, he kissed the tip of her nose. “Waffles it is, then.”

Kissing…

He loved kissing her and took every opportunity to do so, he just wished her husband didn’t mind. It was getting harder and harder to make up stories for the new scars.

He smiled once she wasn’t looking. Giving in, the finally stretch after a pet had been loved and broken to the point they opened up and gave in to whatever command was his favorite. They were safe and secure, they knew it, and accepted the punishment at any challenge to that. Lapping from the bowl she didn’t even look up, taking the offered milk with no resistance— it was an offered gift, not something to be questioned. 

He nestled his head into the shoulder of his lover, his master, his friend. The man was many things, it was hard to call him by any one of them and have it feel correct. But through touch he could show how he felt, the love, the pain, the utter reverence that came from him. Smoothing his hand over exposed skin, dragging his lips and teeth along it, letting out little needy noises. While he may not say the words, he gave away his every feeling with movements. 

Her favorite part of the day was getting dressed; it was like her armor. All her insecurities, all her imperfections, all her mistakes could be hidden with lavish fashions and ornate jewelry. She was who she was, never to be subservient, but she wanted to make sure the world knew as well.

Sliding a hand down her ass, she adjusted her underwear. The undergarments were always lace or semitransparent. It was her way of leveling the playing field - she knew more than anyone how most talked a big game, but the flash of temptation was too hard for them to ignore.