Datasets:

jerryjalapeno

/

jsonlsingle2

like 0

  “The Force is strong with him,” Master Mundi admitted as Qui-Gon stood in the middle of the Council room, Anakin front and center with Obi-Wan standing off to the side. No one could read the room, all the masters had a mask upon them, calm and serene. Dealing with Qui-Gon’s antics wasn’t unusual or abnormal but that didn’t mean the Council particularly liked dealing with them. Luckily, Obi-Wan was quite adequate at writing up real reports, whereas Qui-Gon tried to pass off his as a sentence or two. Qui-Gon bringing back lifeforms wasn’t particularly unusual either but this was the first time he had brought back a child. Qui-Gon exhaled in relief and then took another breath before he continued for clarification. He had to be sure. Anakin had to be trained. “He is to be trained then.” The rest of the Council glance around at one another, uncertainly. It was the first sign of emotion they had shown since he had came back. Master Windu was the one who to break the silence and shook his head. “No. He will not be trained.”Anakin froze, trying so hard for the tears not to form in his eyes. Qui-Gon blinked blankly before collecting himself. “No??” Something in Obi-Wan’s chest sank. This would not end well. Most of the time Qui-Gon’s rejection of the Council and maverick ways were a nuisance and annoying to them but they were rarely harmful or too serious. More often than not, they were willing to let him pass. He had a bad feeling about this; this was not going to end the same way. “He is too old.” “He is the Chosen One…you must see it,” Qui-Gon insisted, leaning forward a bit for effect, his eyes flittering around the members of the Council. Yoda hummed, contemplatively. “Clouded, this boy’s future is.” Qui-Gon’s face twisted in thought and frustration as he moved behind Anakin and put his hands on his shoulders. “I will train him then. I take Anakin as my padawan learner.” Oh. Oh. Whatever Obi-Wan was expecting; this was not it. Yoda shifted and narrowed his eyes. “An apprentice, you have, Qui-Gon. Impossible, to take on a second.” Master Windu leaned forward a bit, vaguely interested but his gaze on Qui-Gon had hardened. He wasn’t rather pleased. “The code forbids it.” “Obi-Wan is ready…” Obi-Wan, dutiful as ever, leapt in defense of his master. “I am ready to face the trials.” “Our own Council, we keep on who is ready.” “He is headstrong…and he has much to learn about the living Force, but he is capable. There is little more he will learn from me,” Qui-Gon continued, calmly, shooting his apprentice a glance. Obi-Wan’s head reeled, and he was fairly certain, despite his rather talent on keeping his face schooled, everyone at least felt it, if not saw it. How was he supposed to react or respond to that? Qui-Gon’s gaze snapped back to the Council and Obi-Wan forced his gaze level. “He must be trained and if no one else will do it, I must.” None of the Council looked pleased with this statement. From across the room, Master Mundi smirked knowingly. “So, what you are saying, is that Kenobi is no longer your padawan?” he asked, feigning innocent curiosity. Qui-Gon’s face twisted but he sighed softly after a long pause. “Look, he is ready for his trials and Anakin needs to be trained so I…yes, I-.” Nearly the entire room exploded into chaos, causing Anakin to slam back into him in surprise. Nearly half the Council, including Depa, Mace, Yoda, Adi and Plo all jumped up from their seats immediately and screamed nearly in complete unison, “DIBS!” Qui-Gon’s brain stopped for a moment before he watched as the normally serene and calm Council members started yelling and arguing with one another, while Master Windu and Depa Billaba began to engage in an intense Master-Padawan glaring match alongside their arguments. He could not make out the words specifically, but their eyes did plenty to warn him to keep out of it. Adi, Yoda and Koon were yelling about their abilities to care for a padawan, both physically and emotionally and mentally, alongside their strengths with teaching. He had never seen any of these masters act like this; much less his grandmaster and Master Windu. Qui-Gon glanced back at his padawan only to find a completely baffled and nearly ruffled Obi-Wan, wringing his hands in the large sleeves of his robes. Obi-Wan was usually excellent as schooling his expressions and emotions but nothing could stop the wide eyed, shocked look on his face. Master Mundi grinned and pulled out a large from in his chair and opened it with a pop. “I have been waiting years for this,” he chuckled as he offered treats to other Council members not involved with the screaming debates of their co-counselors. The rest of them glanced at each other, amused. Many of them took treats as the bag was passed around and they turned to watch as the other council members argued. Master Yaddle cackled softly and hopped from her chair. The others didn’t appear to notice but Qui-Gon watched as she padded slowly over to Obi-Wan and looked up at him, kindly. “Come dear,” she said, gesturing him out the door. “You must be exhausted, hungry and a bit hurt.” “Hurt?” Obi-Wan murmured, dazed and confused. “I’m not injured.” “No dear,” she shook her head. “Emotionally. Pig-headed and stubborn, Master Jinn is. Let us get some food. I am sure you will be returning to Naboo with the Queen to help her fairly soon with the blockade and battle to come. Might as well get some food, yes?” Obi-Wan’s face softened and Qui-Gon was surprised that the boy hadn’t looked up at him to get his permission. That was most unlike him. Instead, Obi-Wan leaned down to allow Master Yaddle to perch on his shoulder and the two of them moved out of the room. Stunned, Qui-Gon turned back to the rest of the Council. They were still arguing, although Qui-Gon could barely hear exactly what they were saying. And then Master Gallia looked around, the rest quieting down as they realized what she had. “Where did Obi-Wan go?” “Master Yaddle took him,” Qui-Gon replied, bluntly, before he could think of anything else. Depa let out a hiss. “That TROLL!”  

Chapter One: The First Night It was too quiet, I knew my wife very well, and if she wasn't talking, she was up to something. We had just finished our couple's night out with our neighbors, Jill and Paul. The drive was getting eerie as my grip on the steering wheel tightened. I knew what I had to do to get her to spill the beans, as they would say. I sighed deeply. "Go on then," I said. "It's nothing," my wife Elize said as she looked out her window. It was past ten at night, and we lived in the suburbs. There was nothing to see but stretches of strip malls and gas stations. "No, spill it, or you're just going to keep both of us up most of the night, thinking about it," I shook my head. "Well, it's just that, you ordered the spicy lo mein," Elize said. "So?" I asked. "Anytime we go to a Chinese restaurant, new or old, you always order lo-mein and you always want it as spicy as it comes," Elize said. "I like it spicy, when is that a bad thing?" I asked. "Paul and I picked that place because it had good reviews, and we thought that you would pick something else other than lo-mein," Elize shrugged as she looked at me. "So, that's it?" I asked. "Yes, why don't you try something different?" Elize asked. I was a man of patterns. I went to the same gas station every time, ordered the same thing at any of the fast-food places, went to bed at the same time, and woke up at the same time. It was just who I was, but Elize was all over the place. There was no pattern to anything she did. She liked to be unpredictable. "I will try something else next time," I nodded. "Thank you," Elize said. I knew that wasn't going to be the end of it, and I was right. Elize brought it up again the next time we went out, I ordered something I liked, and again she had a problem with it. "How about this," I said as we sat up in bed that night. "From now on you order for me?" "Then you will pretend to like it so that you don't make a scene," Elize shook her head. "I don't do that," I said as I looked at her. "When we all went on the cruise you were silent the whole trip and smiled only when we were taking pictures," Elize pointed out. I worked long ten-to-twelve-hour days, five days a week, sometimes six, and all I wanted to do was relax at home. Even on my vacations, all I wanted was peace, quiet, and an excellent book to read, not some tablet or something to read online, I liked the feeling of a good paperback, so I could turn the pages and feel what I was reading. "I wasn't pretending," I said as I looked at her. "You hated it," Elize replied. "Hate is a strong word," I shook my head. "I wasn't completely happy, the whole time." That was it. Elize turned off her light and turned her back to me, indicating that she wasn't talking about the subject anymore. Elize and I had been married for four years now. Before that, we had been together for two years. She found my precise schedule and routine cute and admirable when we first got together. Now I could tell. It was annoying her. She wasn't perfect herself. Elize worked from home. She used to go to work, but with everything happening in the world, her job paid her well enough so she could stay home and do it. This resulted in Elize being bored a lot of the time. She turned from someone that wasn't materialistic to someone that wanted to keep up with everyone else. Elize had to have everything that everyone else had in our gated community or something better. We had to get new vehicles because everyone else had the most up-to-date vehicles, had to get solar panels because everyone else got them, and the list went on and on, even down to her clothes. Elize didn't want to be caught wearing the same thing twice. Even when we went on our double date with Paul and Jill, she wouldn't wear anything they had seen before. The result was a walk-in closet that neither of us could walk into without pushing boxes of clothes aside. I was content with my clothes, shoes, car, everything, but not her. Another thing that irritated me was the community cluck cluck club, as I called Elize and the group of female friends she had made since moving here. They constantly talked on the phone, texted, or made posts on the community's web page. It was nonstop. The most reason and target of their talks was Jill, which bothered me the most. When Elize was around Jill, she loved her, called her sister and her best friend, and everything in between. The moment she got away from Jill, it was totally different. We had a community barbecue at the community center a few weeks ago. All the kids were there in the pool and having a good time. We didn't have kids, and neither did Paul and Jill, so we all sat by the side of the pool. Well, that's when mistakes were made in their eyes. Jill got up and took off her top and her towel. She stood in a two-piece suit and dived into the pool. The next day on the community web page, everything was about indecent exposure around the pool area, especially when kids were around, and anybody going to the pool should wear appropriate swimwear. When I saw it, I immediately knew my wife had something to do with it. Elize is a physical gem to look at, a great body, nothing to scream at, but for the most part, she is in decent shape with all the average curves. Just like most of her friends, they are mostly average at best. Then there is Jill, who most would consider what people call a big, beautiful woman. She has a lot of curves, mainly in the chest area, but she has large hips and a huge ass. Not overly big, but for most, they would consider it huge. So, when Jill got up and was in that two-piece, there was a lot of staring as her massive chest bounced, swayed, and jiggled all over the place. I tore into my wife for the first time in ages. How was Jill inappropriate when her best friend Gina was wearing a two-piece, with a see-through wrap around her waist that showed she was wearing a thong bikini bottom? Elize said she was hiding it behind a wrap. The wrap was utterly transparent. Elize had been wearing a two-piece with her C-cup breasts bulging out the top. Many women that were there were dressed in two-piece bathing suits. It was summer and very hot outside. Elize said most of the boys and most of the men were staring, and they felt uncomfortable. I was there, and most of the men I talked to were gawking. They could say they don't like chubby girls, but every one of them was staring with their jaws on the floor. I am sure they went home and told their wives that it was uncomfortable and Jill shouldn't be wearing something like that, but they were saying that, so they didn't start an argument. At the pool, they all talked about how big Jill's tits were and how phat her ass and thighs were. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ I came home after a long day at work and cracked open a beer as I slumped onto the couch. "Hi," Elize said as she came into the living room. "Hey," I said. After last night's chat about the cruise, we hadn't talked to each other. "I was thinking," Elize said as she sat down. "Okay," I nodded. "We have that vacation weekend coming up," Elize said as she stared directly at me. How could I forget? Paul rented a condo on the beach down in Florida; supposedly, there would be an air and sea show for the whole weekend. Loud crowds and even louder events, which Paul and my wife would love to drag us all through. "Well, Jill wanted to go to her brother's cabin in Tennessee," Elize said. Immediately my eyes lit up. The cabin was tranquil, right on a stream in the middle of nowhere, a small dirt road led up to it, and there was no traffic or neighbors for miles around in every direction. "See, I knew you would be interested," Elize smiled. "So, Paul and I got to thinking." Paul also worked from home while Jill worked at the veterinary clinic. Elize and Paul talked constantly online and over text messages. "Continue," I said. "The two of you can go to the cabin and Paul and I could go to the condo," Elize beamed. I had suspected that the two of them were having an affair. Jill was sure of it too, but neither of us could catch them. There was no proof. I had cameras everywhere, inside and out, and there were no surprise visits from Paul or Elize leaving the house unexpectedly. Even though Elize was as random as can be, she did have somewhat of a fixed schedule to work, and when she wasn't working, she was with her cluck cluck club. Jill and I had tried to put two and two together, but when Elize was out, Paul was inside. When Paul was out, Elize was inside. The two times never meshed, so we both gave up. "You're sure?" I asked. "Positive," Elize nodded. "Both of you hate the beach and loud noises, and Paul and I both hate the outdoors, so it makes sense." "Okay," I nodded. "Good," Elize said as she stood up. That was settled, and I found myself going to the library to rent a couple of books. I hoped to get some good reading done this weekend. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Jill met me outside as the other two were already at the airport. "Think this is it?" Jill asked as I climbed up into her truck. "Definitely, but you know what, I could care less," I said as I clicked my seatbelt. "Me neither," Jill nodded. I knew our marriage was heading downhill, and if they were having an affair, so be it. I already had planned to move out of state if things went as they were heading. Jill and I sat on the seven-hour drive in complete silence. While silence with my wife was excruciating, silence with Jill was comfortable. We stopped for gas and some food for the cabin, then headed up the dirt road to the cabin. My car could never make it up this road. Finally, we were there, and I couldn't wait to get into my room and get comfortable. I was sure Jill was thinking the same, she loved to play word games on her tablet, and as soon as I came back downstairs, she was on the couch with tablet in hand. For most of the night, we just spent reading and playing games. The silence of the mountains filled the cabin. I put more wood on the fire and went back to reading. "So, if it does happen, what are your plans?" Jill asked, breaking the silence. "My brother has a job for me in New Jersey," I said, closing the book. "Wow, that's a big change," Jill said. Moving from South Carolina to New Jersey would be a giant leap, but I was somewhat looking forward to it. "You?" I asked. "Australia," Jill nodded. "A veterinary friend of mine has a spot waiting for me." "Talk about a huge change," I said, looking over at her. "Think it will be good for me," Jill nodded. "I think it will be good for both of us to get away from all of this," I nodded. I didn't know everything, but I could tell Paul and Jill's relationship was hanging by a thread. "I forgot to cook dinner," Jill said as she looked outside. It was pitch black outside, and the sounds of the mountains were getting quieter. I remembered we were all up here one night and all heard a strange sound. It sounded as if something was outside and moving around, close to the cabin. Paul and Elize wanted to go outside and check it out. Jill and I told them the number one rule about being in the mountains, if you hear strange noises, do not go and investigate. Sure enough, the sound continued for a while, and then it faded. It could have been a bear or something else, but we never found tracks or any sign of anything the following day. "Not hungry, are you?" I asked. "Peckish," Jill shrugged as she got up, got a snack, and returned. After a while, we said goodnight and went to bed. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ The morning came, we went hiking for a bit, then to the stores. Neither of us heard anything from the other two, except they got in late last night as their flights got pushed back. I liked going shopping with Jill. Unlike Elize, who had to visit every shop and spend at least an hour in each, Jill knew what she wanted, went in, got it, then was back out. "What is that smell?" I said as I got up from my seat on the couch. I went into the kitchen and saw Jill wearing shorts and a shirt. I guess she was getting comfortable around me. "What is that?" I asked. "Jambalaya!" Jill said. "It smells good," I said, peeking over her shoulder at it. "Taste," Jill said as she brought up a spoonful. I coughed a little but put my hand over my mouth. "Spicy!" I said as I reached for a bottle of water. "Too spicy?" Jill asked. "No," I shook my head. "Just wasn't prepared. That's good!" "Yeah, I can't make it the way I want at home, Paul hates spicy food," Jill said. "So does Elize," I nodded. "May I ask something?" Jill said as she looked over at me. "Shoot," I nodded as I leaned against the counter. "It's been bugging me for a few weeks now," Jill said. I knew where this was going and had prepared for it. "Yes," I nodded. "I fucking knew it!" Jill said, "Why, though?" "Truthfully?" I asked. "Yes, please," Jill nodded. "Them," I said, pointing at her chest. "Elize said it made the kids and all the men as well as some of the women uncomfortable." "Seriously?" Jill shook her head. "Like not seeing Gina's bare ass walk all over the place wasn't uncomfortable?" "No comment," I smiled as I went to the fridge and got a beer. "No, don't do that, Paul does that," Jill said. "Okay," I nodded. "What ass?" Jill laughed. "No, I am serious, what ass?" I repeated. "Elize and the others keep talking about Gina's ass and I have to say I am not impressed." "Okay, but Elize has a better ass?" Jill asked. "She did until she moved out there and got in the club, then she lost weight and worked out so much on her ass that it disappeared," I said. "Very true," Jill said, reaching for my beer and taking a swig. "I saw her before and after pictures, and I must say the before looked much better." "I say that about a lot of the photos I see with women losing weight, the before looked a lot better," I said as she handed my beer back to me. "So, into thick girls huh?" Jill asked. "Was starting to have my doubts about you." "What?" I asked with a smile. "Usually you brothers, or black males in general love the thick women, but I never see you checking the big girls out, ever," Jill nodded as she stirred her pot. "Just because you don't catch me, doesn't mean I don't look," I smiled. "Okay, is it just thick girls or really big girls, there is a difference," Jill said. "Can I say both?" I asked. "Good answer," Jill nodded. "Okay, your turn," I said as I leaned back. "Let's just say, Paul is my first white guy," Jill smiled. "Oh?" I smiled. "What can I say, I got burned by my last brother and it left a bad taste in my mouth, so I vowed to never go back," Jill said with squinty eyes. "And now?" I asked. "Oh, if this goes the way it's heading, definitely going back," Jill nodded. We both laughed for a bit and then sat down for dinner. "Okay, how about you?" Jill asked. "Never been with a white woman," I nodded. "What?" Jill said as she stared at me over the table. Elize was the first non-full black woman I had been with, and she was half black and half Hispanic. "Yup," I nodded. "Oh, that's unexpected," Jill shook her head. "Never as in never as in nothing?" "Nope, never dated, or did anything with a white woman," I said. "Get the fuck out of here?" Jill said. "Why is that unexpected?" I asked. "You know how people think, all black guys want to impregnate us white women with their big black cocks," Jill said as she shook her head. "Yeah and leave them pregnant and go to the next one," I nodded. "Well, I have been with my fair share of black men and as far as the big cock goes, it's been Moby Dick and I have been Ahab, because not one of them have had it," Jill smiled. "What about the pregnant part," I smiled. "Nope, no bun in the oven, it got broken in a car accident long time ago, so no kids in my future," Jill shared. I knew that already, as Elize had told me about it. "So, why no white girls, just not interested?" Jill asked. "They haven't been interested in me, came close in high school but she didn't like black guys," I shrugged. "After that, I never tried again." "Ah, got scorned and never looked back," Jill nodded. We cleaned up the table and settled down in the living room. "So, what other things are a myth?" I asked. "Oh, the going all night and cumming buckets," Jill said. "Total lie!" "For all of them?" I asked. "Let's just say Paul lasts longer than all of them and even with him I usually have to finish the job," Jill said. "Ouch," I said. "Okay, how about Elize?" Jill asked. "She dances well, but does that go well in bed?" I spat out my drink as she said that and shook my head. "She is very good at dancing and teasing while she dances, but is stiff as a board in bed," I said. It was one of the surprising things that got me when we first had sex, I had seen her on the dance floor many times and instantly thought she could move like that in bed, but it was a hard no once we got there. "Not even when you're hitting it from behind?" Jill asked. "Hell no!" I shook my head. "Okay, the only thing Elize is good at and the one thing I like is tit fucking, she likes to do it and most of the girls I know hate doing it." "That's because it does nothing for us," Jill nodded. "But I personally like it, plus I got the equipment to get the job done properly." "Yes, you do," I nodded. "Paul hates my ass," Jill said. "Says it's too big." "Nope," I said. I shook my head. "As the saying goes if a guy thinks your ass is too big, he just doesn't have the equipment needed to pass the cheeks." It was Jill's turn to spit out her drink. "Who the fuck said that?" Jill asked. "The internet and the internet never lies," I laughed. Jill shook her head back and forth. "I mean it's not totally wrong and not totally right, he can get past the cheeks but, after that it's kind of like a fumbled ball?" "What?" I asked. "He thrusts and thrusts but there is no real," Jill paused and thought for a second. "Penetration, should I say?" "Doesn't go deep enough," I nodded. "Exactly, now when he does it missionary, or I am on top, it's all good, but from behind, not so much," Jill smiled. "Big butt problems," I laughed. "Exactly," Jill nodded. It was nice to talk this easily with Jill. We never got to speak; usually, the other two did all the talking, and the two of us just sat in silence. "So, you ever think you will ever jump on that white whale?" Jill asked. "If the right one comes around," I nodded. The rest of the night went by with us talking about past relationships. It felt good to just talk with the silence of the woods outside and the fire in the fireplace. "Night," I said as we retreated to our rooms. "Sleep well, David," Jill said. I lay on my bed and texted my wife, but she didn't reply. I rolled over and had many thoughts of Jill in the next room down the hall and wondered if she was having the same thoughts as me.

Aaron and Antoinette had known each other for three years, having met at a party and becoming fast friends. In the beginning they had played at dating but for reasons neither really understood it never seemed to work out. Still, over the years their friendship grew to one so close they felt as brother and sister, albeit ones completely different. This weekend was just like any one of thirty they had planed before. They would hang out, come up with hair brained schemes to entertain themselves, watch classic films they loved, play drinking games and otherwise annoy each other. Antoinette was half Caucasian and half black. She had coarse curly hair that let on to her black heritage; her skin was fair a light crème color with cute brown freckles on her face. She was neither a thin girl nor a fat one, simply an amply shaped woman. Her breasts were 30 B's, she stood 1.7 meters, roughly 80 kilos and she had a 95cm. waist. Still, her most attractive feature was her warm smile and soft brown eyes. Aaron was a large man, stout but carried himself well. He weighed 125 kilos and stood 2 meters tall. His hair was brown and curly, his skin a light brown, he was half Hispanic and half Caucasian still he leaned towards his Latin heritage. Antoinette had just come up to Vancouver last month. She had rented a room in an apartment with three other people and constantly felt crowded. Aaron on the other hand lived with Sara, an exgirlfriend in an apartment in the same complex as hers. This weekend Aaron's "roommate" was leaving to go to a convention for her work, Aaron and Antoinette thought they should capitalize on this opportunity and have a private party like they had so many times before. All week they had made plans, joking about what grand adventures lay ahead both wanting the week to end. Friday night finally rolled around, Aaron had just dropped Sara off at the airport and Antoinette had just gotten off work. Antoinette was busy fidgeting around in her room looking for her pajamas to take over to Aaron's. She always ended up sleeping on the leather couch and she hated the feel of it sticking to her during the night. While searching through her drawers she came across a picture of her and Aaron from the party when she had first met him. In the picture he was holding her over his shoulder preparing to take her to the bathroom. She had way too much to drink that night and most likely would have just passed out in a corner left to the whims of any drunken passer-by. Still this complete stranger who had only spoken to her for 5 minutes before she passed out on the couch had stayed with her the whole night and even bought her breakfast before he dropped her off at home the next morning. She smiled briefly before seeing the pajama bottoms she had been looking for and tucked the photo back into the drawer. Aaron hastily had said goodbye to Sara feeling somewhat guilty that had felt annoyed at her extended goodbye taking time from his upcoming weekend. She fawned over him constantly, still in love with him. He had been the one to end it, he knew she wasn't the right one, he hadn't figured out who that one would be yet but he definitely knew it wasn't her. Despite his somewhat gruff exterior Aaron was a romantic at heart and firmly believed in the signs of true love and was bound and determined to never settle for less. With Sara it came when she had finally annoyed him to frustration with her obsession for public displays of affection, as though she constantly had to remind him and everyone around that he was her property and no one had better get any ideas. Putting the negativity out of his mind he decided to focus on the evening ahead. He mentally ran down the check list for tonight: Got to stop at the bottle shop for my big surprise, got to stop at the video store to grab some movies and at a fast food joint on the way home. He made it to the bottle shop and picked up his special gift for Antoinette to celebrate her recent move. He had gone to Europe two years ago and tried Absinthe, finding its intoxication to be like no other. Next, next to the video store where he grabbed their standard mix of comedies and action flix they loved, in addition he grabbed the most ridiculous looking soft-core video they had. It was a tradition of theirs to watch these bad movies and drink every time they saw breasts. That was their way, everything having some sort of tradition or ritual attached to it. Aaron cherished that, for him it brought with it a sense of closeness or of a private world in which only they lived. Last he grabbed food and made for his home with a sense of enthusiasm. Antoinette went over to Aaron's place early to shower and let herself in with her own key which Sara did not know she had. As she opened the door she got a small thrill that she hated to admit was feeling happy that she had a secret with Aaron that Sara didn't know about. Antoinette didn't dislike Sara but was jealous of her because she was the one who had gotten Aaron to move to Vancouver in the first place. They had talked over the phone and internet but for six months her best friend was hundreds of miles away. Since she had moved up here her situation had been hectic, first finding a place to stay then a job. This was the first time she would have quality times to hang out with Aaron. She hoped that things would be just like old times, laughing and drinking till dawn and waking up the following afternoon comforting each other as their hangovers thundered. She went into his bedroom admiring the big ebony bed and thick carpet as she undressed herself and placed her clothes on his bed. His shower was a large walk-in stone enclosure with two nozzles, in front and back. She turned on the shower and felt the warm waster wash over her skin. She grabbed her luffa and began to slowly caress herself working up a lather. As the water danced over her breasts a tingling sensation shot up her spine and down into her loins. The sensation was accompanied by a graphic thought of a man holding her from behind while he fondled her left breast and cupped her pussy. While she began to daydream of this aquatic tryst the sponge slid down between her legs and began a slow circular motion over her most sensitive parts. Antoinette moaned as she caressed her soapy breast playing with her nipple and beginning to grind into her hand. Her mystery man had pushed his leg between hers and began rubbing her clit. Likewise she abandoned her sponge to her fingers and began to stimulate herself. Ohh, how it had been so long since she had been with a man, almost a year. Right now this was good enough; she used her left hand to rub her clit and with her right probed the folds of her pussy. With all the vigor she could muster she pushed herself closer to climax, reveling in the warmth of her pussy and electric feelings radiating from her clit. As her man began to bend her over and slowly pump his penis into her she knelt down and began to finger herself. Then as he fucked her harder and harder bringing her to that ultimate pleasure she released with a wave of orgasm and screamed the name of the mystery man, "Aaron!!" Her pussy contracted again and again around her fingers, squeezing them, holding them, the heat and tingling spreading from her quivering pussy to every inch of her body. The sweet calm of an orgasm washed over her and only then as her eyes lay half open still heavy from the orgasm she recognized the name she had called and the man she had pictured. For a moment she lay on floor of the shower feeling it wash away the soap and wondered where that dream had come from, but then she heard the sound of front door shutting and Aaron announcing his arrival. *************************

Obi-Wan’s universe was suddenly very small. Anakin’s mechanical hand had tightened again, painfully so, but the warmth of Anakin’s real hand was pressing hard against the back of Obi-Wan’s neck, urging him forward, towards Anakin’s body, into Anakin’s kiss. Obi-Wan had never allowed himself to wonder about this. And, perhaps because of that, he was completely unprepared for Anakin’s kisses. Because Anakin wasn’t content to attack Obi-Wan’s mouth – instead, he laid siege, pressing light kisses against Obi-Wan’s lips, licking up against and then into Obi-Wan’s mouth, and catching Obi-Wan’s lower lip in his teeth when he retreated again. Anakin constantly shifted tactics, as if trying to keep Obi-Wan off-guard. As if this were just another sparring match. But then Anakin pushed up hard against Obi-Wan and even through the layers of fabric, it was clear that Anakin wasn’t playing games. Anakin’s hand slid down the back of Obi-Wan’s neck, slowly stroking his fingers over Obi-Wan’s skin. Obi-Wan leaned into the touch, pulling away from Anakin’s mouth. He opened his eyes slowly, meeting Anakin’s gaze head-on. Anakin’s eyes were dark and needy, as much a handcuff as the metal hand still wrapped around Obi-Wan’s left wrist. His face was flushed and the wet gloss of his mouth was far too inviting. “Anakin,” Obi-Wan said. His free hand ached to rest on his lightsaber, to turn this into a true duel, something that they could both walk away from intact. “Any distraction will only work for so long, and then you still have to deal with the original problem.” “This isn’t a distraction,” Anakin said. “It’s a solution.” Anakin smiled hopefully, his gaze flicking down to Obi-Wan’s mouth. “No, it isn’t,” Obi-Wan said, reaching up and pressing two fingers against Anakin’s parted lips. Anakin’s breath was hot against Obi-Wan’s fingertips, testing Obi-Wan’s resolve. “You’re avoiding the issue, Anakin, and I won’t have that.” Anakin’s lips pressed together in an unmistakable pout. Obi-Wan winced inwardly at this further evidence of Anakin’s emotional youth. To take advantage of that, to allow Anakin to take this easier road, would be a betrayal of everything that Obi-Wan had tried to be to him. He pulled his hand away from Anakin’s tempting mouth and reached over to tap the dark material of Anakin’s sleeve, just above where the mechanical arm integrated into Anakin’s nervous system. “Let go of me,” Obi-Wan said softly. Anakin’s gaze fell to where he still gripped Obi-Wan’s wrist, and it was as if he only now realized how tight his hold had become, and his hand fell open immediately, releasing Obi-Wan. Anakin pulled his other hand away from Obi-Wan’s neck almost as quickly. Then he backed away, but not far, his body still close enough that the edges of his cloak brushed up against Obi-Wan. “I know that you want me, I can feel it,” Anakin said, and his voice, as always, held no malice, only simple confusion. Anakin reached out with his left hand, brushing the back of his hand lightly over Obi-Wan’s wrist, easing the ache slightly with his touch and likely a touch of the Force as well. “I won’t… I’ll pay more attention to what I’m doing from now on.” “Anakin, this isn’t about being careful,” Obi-Wan said, his exasperation bleeding over into his voice. “This is about one of the central tenets of the Jedi Code.” “There is no passion,” Anakin said with a twist to his mouth, lifting defiant eyes to meet Obi-Wan’s. “Only serenity.” “Can you claim that what just happened had anything to do with achieving serenity?” Obi-Wan asked, allowing his voice to slip into the measured tones that annoyed Anakin so much. “Anakin, I know that the bond between Master and Padawan can be intense, but it isn’t meant to turn into this.” “You’re not my master anymore,” Anakin said, reaching up and rubbing his forehead, looking away from Obi-Wan.  “We may not be equals yet, not in the eyes of the Council, but…” Then Anakin backed away another step, his hand falling to his lightsaber. “What’s wrong?” Obi-Wan asked. “We’re close to a source of great pain,” Anakin said, a distant, troubled look on his face. “So much betrayal… so much loss. It’s everywhere. But there’s something else wrong… something…” “I can’t feel anything,” Obi-Wan reminded Anakin, moving forward to place his hand on Anakin’s arm, to give Anakin something to center himself with. “Threepio,” Obi-Wan said, looking past Anakin. The protocol droid was already looking at them, which Obi-Wan carefully decided not to find disturbing. “Fetch Luke, bring him here.” “Certainly, sir,” Threepio said, hurrying towards the corridor that led to the cockpit. It turned around for a moment, looking at Obi-Wan. “Oh, I do hope that Master Anakin will be all right!” Then it moved into the corridor, a droid on a mission. “As do I,” Obi-Wan whispered. But Anakin’s breathing was already steadying. He looked up, his gaze locking onto Obi-Wan’s, and even under the pain, that longing had remained. Obi-Wan was acutely aware that this wasn’t over. As a trained fighter, Anakin was very persistent when he sensed a weakness. “Obi-Wan,” Anakin said. “Not now, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said. “Yes, Luke will be here soon,” Anakin said. “I know.” “We’ll be able to find out what’s happened and how to fix it,” Obi-Wan said, firmly. “And you’ll pretend that this never happened,” Anakin said, scornfully. "That you didn't kiss me back." “That would be the smart thing to do,” Obi-Wan said. “And when have we ever done that?” Anakin asked. Then Anakin glanced over at other corridor and moved away from Obi-Wan, leaving them in a relatively uncompromising position. A moment later, Luke arrived with Threepio, leaning against the droid slightly. “We’ve arrived at the Temple,” Luke said. “Now, Obi-Wan, as far as I could tell, the databanks were wiped clean. But I couldn’t stay for long, so I don’t know if I just didn’t get the chance to look hard enough.” “Why couldn’t you stay?” Obi-Wan asked. “The screaming,” Anakin said grimly. “It is a little distracting,” Luke said. “Perhaps I should be the only one to go, then,” Obi-Wan said. “As I can’t hear it.” “No,” Anakin and Luke said in unison. Anakin glared at Luke, who shrugged. “Without the Force, you’re vulnerable,” Anakin said. “I’m not going to let you go anywhere without me.” “Anakin, I can defend myself, even without the Force,” Obi-Wan said. “He’s right, though,” Luke said. “You can’t sense danger coming.” Apparently, over-protectiveness was hereditary. “I do still have all my other senses,” Obi-Wan said. “I’m hardly helpless.” “Master,” Anakin said. Obi-Wan glanced at Anakin’s pleading expression and knew that he’d already lost this battle. Certainly, he could order Anakin to stay behind, but what use would that serve except to make Anakin even more sulky and uncooperative? And that was if Anakin bothered to listen to him, of course. Half of the times that Anakin had saved Obi-Wan’s life had been against Obi-Wan’s direct orders. “Yes, fine, you can come,” Obi-Wan said. “Luke?” “Yes,” Luke said, and Obi-Wan was mildly and briefly annoyed at how relieved Luke looked. “It’s entirely possible that access to the records was blocked, but that the records themselves are intact,” Obi-Wan said. “Only a Master can erase information from the archives and I doubt even a Master would be able to wipe the archives entirely.” “Ah, sir, I don’t mean to interrupt,” Threepio said. Obi-Wan shot the droid a questioning look. “But it may help to know that Master Anakin was appointed to the Council before he became Darth Vader. He may have had clearance.” “How do you know that?” Luke asked, straightening up and staring down at Threepio. “Master Anakin brought my memory back!” Threepio said. “Isn’t that wonderful?” “He… what?” Luke said, dumbstruck. “How?” “Anakin’s good with machines,” Obi-Wan said, lightly. “Always has been. It really isn’t relevant, though.” “I suppose not,” Luke said. “I just… I didn’t know that it was possible.” “Anything’s possible,” Anakin said, flashing Luke a quick grin. “You just have to be willing to take risks.” “Though we should keep in mind that not all risks are worth taking,” Obi-Wan said repressively. “Yes, Master,” Anakin said dutifully, but the heated look he gave Obi-Wan was anything but dutiful and it confirmed Obi-Wan’s earlier concerns. Apparently, not even the presence of his own child would stop Anakin from pushing. Luke was watching them with narrowed eyes, but he didn’t say anything. If the mental noise from the Temple was as distracting as Luke claimed it was, it was likely that Luke hadn’t picked up on Anakin’s desires. Well, Obi-Wan could hope. And he could almost hear Master Yoda now – projecting desires into the future, hope is. Careful you should be when doing this. Hope too easily becomes disappointment, when the future turns out differently than we wish it to be. Meditate on this, you should. “And is Leia coming as well?” Obi-Wan asked. “Apparently, she’s going to go down into the city core with Han,” Luke said. “Threepio, maybe you should stay on the ship, too.” “Master Anakin?” Threepio asked. Luke looked surprised at that, just for a moment. Apparently, he hadn’t yet realized that the return of Threepio’s memories had changed other things as well. “It’s all right, Threepio,” Anakin said. “You can look after Leia while we’re gone.” “Very well, sir,” Threepio said. “Maybe you should stay here, too,” Anakin said, clearly talking to Luke, even though he wasn’t quite looking at him. “This place really seems to be affecting you.” “I can handle it,” Luke said. “He’ll be fine,” Obi-Wan said, pushing away from the wall and heading down to the corridor that he believed went to the entrance of the ship. “There’s no hurry,” Luke said, half a step behind Obi-Wan. “If we do find a way to get you back to your own time, we should be able to get you to exactly when you left, right?” “We don’t know that, Luke,” Obi-Wan said. “And it’s ‘when’, not ‘if’,” Anakin said, from Obi-Wan’s other side. “If getting here is possible, getting back has to be.” “Not necessarily,” Luke said. “Right, we’ll just keep all the possibilities in mind,” Obi-Wan said, quickening his steps just a little. Not that it helped -- both Luke and Anakin easily kept pace with him. At least they kept silent the rest of the way. Leaving the ship was a bit of a blessing – the enviromentals had been off, just a little, and the inside of the ship had been starting to smell just a bit like burnt oxygen. Once he was finally off the ship, Obi-Wan had to pause to drink in the sight of the Temple. Luke was right, it was completely deserted, and it looked even larger without the hordes of Jedi and younglings that were normally hovering around at this time of day. But he couldn’t see any damage from where he stood, only the majesty of the ancient entrance pillars, and the massive, yet graceful bulk of the building itself, almost completely blocking out the sky. Even knowing what had happened, knowing that it was nothing more than a tomb, couldn't change the way just seeing the Temple could lighten Obi-Wan's heart. Then he heard Anakin throw up. Luke was bent over, clearly fighting nausea, while Anakin had lost the fight and was kneeling on the ground, skin pale and eyes reddened. Obi-Wan wrinkled his nose slightly at the smell, but hurried over and slid a supportive arm around Anakin’s back, helping him to stand up again. “Are you sure that you don’t want to go back to the ship?” Obi-Wan asked. “No, I can handle this,” Anakin said, though he didn’t push away from Obi-Wan. “I just need a moment to adjust.” “It gets worse the longer you stay,” Luke warned. “Now we do have a reason to hurry,” Obi-Wan said, pulling Anakin along with him. “And if you two slow me down, just remember that I did offer to come alone.”

The music inside Scandals is loud as Blaine calls his order out to the bartender.  He’s never been on a Saturday night before and the environment is totally different than during the middle of the week — the lights are lower, the music is louder, the dance floor is full of people his own age.  It’s a little overwhelming, but in a good way.  It gives him something to focus on besides the dull ache in his chest, the constant pounding in his head, New York and Vogue and his ex-boyfriend. He takes a sip, the liquor burning just a little as it slides down his throat.  He’s not sure what exactly he’s looking for tonight.  He wants to let loose and have fun for the first time in months, since his cell phone had been glued to his hand with Kurt’s voicemail playing constantly in his ears.  He’s tired of beating himself up, tired of his texts going unanswered, tired of taking complete blame for a break up that was a result of so many things wrong in their relationship.  Maybe it’s immature and selfish, but he just wants to forget for a while; to drink and dance and leave New York City as far from his mind as possible He looks around the dance floor, running his fingers through the condensation that collects on his glass.  It’s hard to see the men that are here, the lights too low to make out much of anything.  But he sees bodies pressed together; arms around shoulders, hands on hips, lips crushed together.  He feels heat in his stomach that he blames on the alcohol rising up, the warmth settling in his cheeks.  He’s never been allowed to look before, to be so blatant in wanting something.  He watches as a few people look from the dance floor, feels his skin prickle as their eyes drift up and down his body. The rest of his drink is finished with a final gulp, the warm liquid washing down his throat as he swallows.  He wipes his mouth with the bar napkin that his drink was sitting on, collecting a few drops of soda water that cling to the corner of his mouth.  The bartender calls from behind him, asking if he wants another drink and Blaine turns around, resting his elbows on the dark wood of the bar. “Not right now, but can I keep my tab open?” Blaine asks.  He’s not done drinking, but he wants to dance. “A tab won’t be necessary,” a voice says from behind him and Blaine recognizes it instantly.  “I’m buying his drinks.” Blaine turns around, colors spinning in front of his eyes as he moves.  Sebastian looks good, but Sebastian always looks good.  Blaine drags his eyes up Sebastian’s body; up his long legs, his narrow waist, the broad stretch of his shoulders.  His stomach tightens when he sees Sebastian’s smirk, just a hint of teeth showing, and it’s easy enough to blame it on the alcohol flowing through his body. “You don’t have to do that,” Blaine says, already smiling as Sebastian moves closer.  He squeezes his way in between Blaine and the barstool next to him, leaning on the bar while their feet mix together. “Don’t mention it,” Sebastian says before turning to the bartender.  “Two tequila shots, please.” It’s on Blaine’s lips before Sebastian finishes speaking, the apology and excuses about why he shouldn’t take the offered shot.  But then he remembers that it’s okay to have fun with Sebastian, to do something that was previously forbidden. The bartender, a man in a too-tight vest and highlights from fifteen years ago, pours their shots, holding the liquor bottle up high as it drops into their shot glasses.  Blaine watches as the small glasses are filled and doesn’t know how to tell Sebastian that he’s never tried tequila before. “Lime or salt?” The bartender asks as he slides the shots carefully across the bar, not even a drop of alcohol spilling out of them. “No training wheels for me,” Sebastian says, taking the shots in his hand and offering one to Blaine.  “Blaine?” Blaine looks at the amber colored liquid. “Can I get a lime, please?” He asks. The bartender places a wedge on a cocktail napkin and passes it over. “To second chances,” Sebastian says, clinking their glasses together and Blaine is bringing the shot to his lips before he can stop himself. It burns, so much more than his earlier drink.  He coughs at the end of it, reaching for the lime and sinking his teeth in, sucking out the juice until his throat stops burning and he can take a deep breath.  Sebastian is watching him intently, the shot glass still gripped in his hand, but now empty.  Blaine removes the fruit from his mouth, but licks his lips slowly, collecting the excess juice with his tongue.  He smacks his lips together, the tartness of the lime juice making his mouth pucker just a bit. “So,” Sebastian drawls, pulling up a stool next to Blaine.  He angles his chair so they’re facing each other and Blaine sits down on his.  “I didn’t think I’d see you here again.” Blaine shrugs a shoulder casually, slouching down just a bit in his seat so their knees brush together.  “Well here I am,” he says, hoping Sebastian doesn’t want any more of an explanation. “Are you here alone?” is all he asks and Blaine nods once.  Sebastian’s grin is huge and he steps down from the barstool.  “Then I think we should dance.” It’s exactly what Blaine wants to hear, hopping down from his seat and following Sebastian out to the dance floor.  The song is loud and he doesn’t recognize the lyrics, but he can feel the bass beating in the center of his chest.   They pass through bodies, making their way to the back of the small area for dancing.  Sebastian slides his hands around Blaine’s hips easily and then they’re pressed together; chests, thighs, knees.  It’s so different from the last time Blaine was here dancing with him, now that he’s allowed to want this, doesn’t have to feel guilty about enjoying the way their bodies move together.  The alcohol doesn’t make him uncoordinated or sloppy, it just puts everything into a nice haze, making his arms and legs loose and the dancing comes easily. He loops his arms around Sebastian’s shoulders and pulls them closer together, until he can feel Sebastian’s belt buckle rubbing against his lower stomach.  The feeling it gives him is something he’s been searching for for months; to be wanted, to be acknowledged, to know that he’s the only thing on someone else’s mind. “I almost forgot how hot you are,” Sebastian says, bringing his face down to speak into Blaine’s ear.  He must be talking at a normal volume, but the music is so loud that it sounds like he’s whispering. He sneaks his hands from Blaine’s waist around to his back, until his fingers are dancing beneath the tight denim of Blaine’s jeans.  “Almost.”  He lets his fingertips rest there, not dipping in any farther, even though Blaine has the sudden desire to know what it feels like to have Sebastian’s hands gripping onto him. Blaine doesn’t respond, just moves a half step closer and rocks up on his feet, forcing Sebastian's hands to slide farther down his ass. The guilt is starting to slip away with each beat of the music; the guilt of cheating, the guilt of wanting someone else, the guilt of the knowing that it's okay to want someone else. He doesn't want to stop and think about why it took Sebastian’s hands on him to figure that out, why he suddenly has nothing else on his mind besides the way Sebastian’s chest feels pressed against his. The song changes, switching from one loud, thumping beat to the next, and Blaine moves with it. He pulls back from where his face is pressed into Sebastian's neck and half expects to see Sebastian eyeing the room, looking for the next boy he's going to fuck. What he sees instead, is Sebastian with his eyes closed, opening only when he feels Blaine pull back. Sebastian raises an eyebrow as Blaine looks him over, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. Blaine's more than a little surprised when he feels a surge of want zip through him, how he has to psychically hold himself back from pushing up and kissing Sebastian in the middle of the dance floor.  It rocks him like a punch to his stomach, leaving him dizzy and lightheaded.  He's spent the entire breakup being so absolutely certain that he'd never want anyone but Kurt again, that he couldn't.  He can barely think back to the moment of getting dressed afterwards without a wave of nausea hitting him, remembering how he slowly tugged on his shirt while Eli joked from somewhere off behind him. He had thought that was all the confirmation he would ever need, that he wouldn’t ever want anyone besides Kurt. Blaine takes a deep breath and steadies himself  using the alcohol to bolster his confidence — and he doesn't think of Kurt at all as he tugs on the collar of Sebastian's shirt, pulling him down so he can whisper in Sebastian’s ear. "Do you want to grab another drink?" Sebastian's teeth nip at Blaine's jaw and Blaine jolts, straightening his back, and turns to press his cheek closer to Sebastian’s willing mouth. "No," Sebastian says and Blaine can't stop his mouth from dropping open in shock. He tightens his grip on Sebastian's collar and pulls back. Maybe he read the entire situation wrong.  Maybe Sebastian doesn’t want him, doesn’t want someone so broken.  He casts his eyes down, ready to grab a bottle of water from the bar and drive himself home. Sebastian runs his finger along the bottom of Blaine’s jaw, pressing up until his mouth is closed.  “I don’t want to get a drink,” Sebastian explains, his voice smooth and his eyes locked with Blaine’s.  “Because if we have another drink, you might not remember this in the morning.”  He pauses, long enough to drop his arms back to Blaine’s waist, pulling closer until his knee is pressed high along the inside of Blaine’s thigh.  Blaine’s entire body burns, from the bottom of his stomach to the tips of his ears, and he slouches down into Sebastian’s touch.   Sebastian doesn’t even flinch under the added weight, just tightens his grip and Blaine can feel the muscles in his arms clench. “And I want you to remember every second,” Sebastian finishes, dropping his face until their foreheads are nearly touching, a few strands of  Sebastian’s hair caught in between. Blaine had given little thought to the moment where he would kiss someone new, to when he would want to.  Late at night, after staring at his silent phone for hours, he had thoughts that drifted to people who he wanted to kiss that weren’t Kurt.  It gave him a sinking feeling in his stomach and he would roll over, typing out a text that was sure to go unanswered. His heels slip out of the back of his shoes as he reaches up to slot their lips together.  Sebastian makes a surprised noise, but Blaine can feel when Sebastian smiles into the kiss.  It’s short, and Blaine tries to follow Sebastian’s lips as he pulls back.  Sebastian chuckles and presses a kiss to Blaine’s cheek. “Are you sure you want this?” Sebastian asks, and Blaine hardly has to think before he has his answer. It’s in the way he’s licking his lips, chasing after the taste of Sebastian on them.  It’s how he hasn’t pretended Sebastian was anyone else, new or old, from the moment he laid eyes on him in the bar tonight.  It’s the way Blaine notices how Sebastian’s cheeks are stained red, and the trail of sweat dripping down his neck. Maybe he should be surprised at how quickly he has his answer, but then again, maybe he shouldn’t.  There’d always been something about Sebastian; from his first bit of cockiness that caught Blaine so completely off guard, to his apology in The Lima Bean.  Sebastian had always been there, something he needed to convince himself he didn’t want, telling himself over and over even when he was happy with someone else. He tilts his head back up as Sebastian leans down, and they meet in the middle.  Their lips open at the same time as their hips grind to the beat of the music, Blaine’s breath leaving him entirely at the onslaught of sensations.  His arms move on their own, sliding up Sebastian’s back until they’re resting on his shoulders, and Blaine dips his fingers under the collar of Sebastian’s shirt to press into the warm skin.  Sebastian kisses him like he wants to do nothing else, and it has been so long since Blaine has felt this way.  Sebastian pushes his tongue past Blaine’s lips, licking inside his mouth.  Blaine’s head is clouded with tequila and arousal, but he’s aware enough to kiss back.  He pulls back to bite at Sebastian’s bottom lip, running his tongue over the small indentations.  Sebastian growls and pulls Blaine impossibly closer, no longer dancing, just kissing, as they rock their hips together. Later he can blame it on the heat in the bar, the flash of the lights, the pounding of the bass, the alcohol drifting through his body, for what he asks Sebastian next.  It’s off his lips before he has time to think about it, but if he’s being honest with himself, he’s thought about it for a long time, longer than just the fifteen minutes they’ve been dancing together. “If we’re not having another drink,” Blaine says, trailing his lips across Sebastian’s jaw and down his neck.  His words are muffled, his mouth pressed into Sebastian’s overheated skin, but he speaks clearly when he asks, “why don’t we get out of here?” Sebastian pulls back completely, putting a few inches between their bodies.  Blaine misses the warmth immediately, wants to feel Sebastian’s solid body pressed against his again.  Blaine chews on his bottom lip as Sebastian looks him over, Sebastian’s mouth dropped open as he takes quick inhales of breath.  Blaine doesn’t know what Sebastian’s thinking, has never seen this look on Sebastian’s face before.  It’s not his trademark smirk or a knowing grin, no flirting eyes or quirked eyebrows.  Blaine closes his eyes and braces himself for Sebastian’s answer, hoping he doesn’t ask why or if Blaine’s sure. “Your place or mine?” Sebastian asks, and Blaine’s eyes snap open. Blaine waits for his flight instinct to kick in, to tell him to get as far away from Sebastian as possible — even after admitting that he wants Sebastian, it’s still what he expects.  It’s what he’s been conditioned to do when Sebastian flirts shamelessly with him, had it pounded into him over and over again, “don’t answer his phone calls” and “delete his number”.   He waits, holding his breath, but the feeling never comes.  Instead of feeling offended at Sebastian’s blatant invitation, he feels nervous excitement creep up from his stomach.  There’s no disgust as Sebastian licks his lips and drags his hand up and down Blaine’s spine, just a sharp heat making its way through Blaine’s entire body. “My parents aren’t home,” Blaine answers as calmly as he can, keeping his hands steady to not give away his nerves. Sebastian’s smile is wide across his face, his bright teeth shining even in the darkness of the bar.  Blaine is momentarily mesmerized, his glance caught between the flush on Sebastian’s cheeks, the dip of his neck, a lock of hair falling down onto his forehead.  He’s made his mind up, the last bit of doubt washing away as Sebastian lays his palm flat across the small of Blaine’s back. “Are you okay to drive?” Sebastian asks, and the serious tone in his voice catches Blaine off guard. “I’m fine,” Blaine insists—and he is.  The effects of the liquor are almost completely gone, nothing left but a slight buzz to his head that could easily be from the beating music or pulsing lights. “Then what are we waiting for?” Sebastian asks and—just because he can—Blaine leans up and brings their lips together.  He can feel that Sebastian is caught off guard, the way he jolts just a bit as Blaine licks into his mouth.  Sebastian is quick to respond, though; digging his fingers into the muscles of Blaine’s back and opening his mouth eagerly.  The kiss is dirty, open mouths and tongues and wetness, and Blaine can’t get enough.  He can’t remember the last time he’s been kissed like this, with such obvious passion and want.  Sebastian clings to him, holding him as tightly as he can, not satisfied until their entire bodies are lined together. Blaine pulls away first, licking at the lines of his lips.  Sebastian is panting just slightly, just enough that Blaine can notice.  It makes something like pride surge through him, knowing he can effect Sebastian in such an obvious way. The rise of Sebastian’s chest is subtle before he starts speaking.  “I’ll follow you back to your place,” he says, leaning down and brushing his lips against Blaine’s warm cheek.  “Don’t chicken out on me now.” Blaine laughs, shaking his head.  His mind is made up, there’s no chance of him running away.  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he teases and god, this entire exchange with Sebastian just makes him feel good. “Then lead the way,” Sebastian murmurs against his skin before pulling back. They make their way through the crowd of people, the pressure on his back from Sebastian’s palm warm and comforting in a way Blaine doesn’t really want to stop and think about.  They cut through strangers on the dance floor, men stopping to watch them as they leave.  Blaine thinks he sees jealousy on their dark faces and doesn’t miss when Sebastian tugs him a little closer to his body. The cool air is like a slap to the face as they make their way outside, the effects of the alcohol long gone, and so is the feeling of being pleasantly warm.  Blaine does a full body shiver, jumping a bit in Sebastian’s arms, and Sebastian runs a hand from Blaine’s shoulder down to his elbow. “The quicker we get back to your place, the quicker I can warm you up,” he says and Blaine has to bite his lip to keep from laughing. “I’m not going anywhere, Sebastian,” Blaine says as they cross through the parking lot, weaving in-between cars.  “You don’t have to use those terrible lines on me.” Sebastian just smirks and stops next to a sleek black car, only then taking his hand away from Blaine’s back and reaching into his front pocket to pull out his keys.  “How far away is your house?” “Ten minutes,” Blaine answers and suddenly he wishes he lived closer.  He wants Sebastian near him, touching him, doesn’t want space away from him where he could change his mind.  He’s instantly colder as Sebastian steps away to unlock his car and Blaine doesn’t think before he presses his chest up against Sebastian’s back.  He can feel Sebastian’s laugh vibrating and Blaine loops his arms around Sebastian’s waist, pressing his cheek to Sebastian’s shoulder. “I’ll see you in ten minutes then,” Sebastian says, turning around in Blaine’s arm.  He finds Blaine’s eyes and brings his hand up, running his thumb against the skin under Blaine’s bottom lip. This is his last chance to pull away, to call this entire thing off.  To go home alone and lie in his bed and stare at the wall until the sun comes up.  He doesn’t want that though, doesn’t want to spend another night alone while he thinks of someone who doesn’t want him.  He wants Sebastian sharing his bed, wants the intimacy that it will bring. Sebastian leans down and presses a kiss to Blaine’s lips, firm and promising, before pulling back and giving him a quick wink.  He opens the door and slides into his car as Blaine walks over to his own, parked a few spaces away.  He sits down in the driver’s seat and starts the car, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before putting the car in gear and driving off, Sebastian’s headlights clear in his rearview mirror.

When Minho woke up, he was not expecting to have someone lying next to him. However, that was exactly what he was faced with when he remembered that Felix, his assistant, had spent the night in his bed. Not only that, but Felix, who was still asleep, had his arm wrapped around Minho’s waist. Minho breathed a small prayer to whoever was listening, both thanking and cursing them for his current situation. Minho gently grabbed Felix’s arm and lifted it off of his waist. He then slid out of bed. Felix let out a small groan, his eyes fluttering open. He pushed himself up into a sitting position and ran a hand through his hair. Felix then paused, shutting his eyes. “Please, God, tell me I didn’t actually go to LGDJ.” “Sorry, Felix, but you did,” Minho responded. Felix’s eyes shot open to stare at Minho. The older Caregiver couldn’t help but chuckle. “I don’t think you were anywhere near this shocked last night.” “In all fairness, I was pretty certain I was going to die one way or another last night,” Felix responded. Minho frowned at that statement. “Did you really think I was going to kill you?” Felix brought his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on them. “To be honest, I was more afraid of Marcus finding me than I was of you killing me.” A smile appeared on Felix’s face. “No offense, Minho, but you’re too soft to kill anyone.” The young Aussie made his way out of the bed. “It was those two girls with the masks that I was afraid of.” “Trust me, Felix, Chuu and Lia would never harm a Caregiver in need,” Minho claimed. “An abusive Caregiver is a different story, but I know you’re not like that.” Felix bowed his head, a small smile on his face. “Thank you, Minho.” He stared down at the bed. “And thank you for letting me sleep here last night.” “It was no issue at all,” Minho reassured. “My room is the closest to a nursery.” A loud cry filled the air. “Are you not going to deal with your littles?” Felix inquired, an eyebrow cocked. Minho shook his head. “That’s not Jisung or Changbin.” Felix nodded before pausing. The younger Caregiver listened to the cries for a moment before his eyes widened. “Crap, that’s Seungmin!” With that, Felix bolted out of the room. Minho was quick to follow, knowing that Changbin at least would be woken up by the noise. The two Caregivers entered the room to see Jisung by Seungmin’s makeshift crib, which was just a cot with bars attached to the sides. The Little was running his fingers through Seungmin’s hair and humming. Seungmin’s cries persisted, but they were noticeably quieter. Felix rushed over to the cot and joined the two Littles on it. Jisung smiled brightly at Felix. “I tried to help Minnie stop cryin’.” Felix flashed the older Little a grateful smile. “You did a very good job…” “Jisung,” Minho supplied. Felix nodded before turning his attention back to Jisung. “You did a very good job, Jisung.” “Thank you, Mr. Lixie,” Jisung chirped. He then glanced over his shoulder at Minho. “Did you hear that, Daddy?” Minho chuckled. “I did, Sungie.” He stepped over to Changbin’s crib as the boy began to stir awake. “Would you like to help me with Binnie?” Jisung nodded furiously, his smile growing. Felix gently lifted Seungmin into his lap, cooing at his little boy. “Did my little puppy miss me?” Seungmin stared up at Felix, eyes wide and shining from his tears. Felix cracked a smile, giving Seungmin’s diaper a quick check. “Someone needs a change, doesn’t he?” Seungmin nuzzled his head into Felix’s chest, causing the Caregiver to let out a small sigh. “Minnie, you can suckle after Papa changes you.” Felix stood up with Seungmin secure in his arms before setting him down on the ground on a changing pad that he had brought from the apartment. Jisung, having gotten distracted by the interaction between Seungmin and Felix, stepped over to the men and knelt by Felix as the Caregiver untapped the diaper around Seungmin’s waist. “Does Minnie need a baba?” Jisung inquired. Felix snapped out of the slight trance he was in before relaxing. “Oh, well, Sungie, Minnie sometimes would rather…suck on my chest rather than a paci.” Felix placed a clean diaper underneath Seungmin before wiping down the Little. “It’s because he’s so little and the contact is nice for him.” Jisung’s mouth made a small “oh” shape, but his smile quickly overtook his face again. “Okay.” “Sungie, don’t bother Mr. Lixie while he’s changing Minnie,” Minho calmly ordered. “It’s fine, Minho; he’s just curious,” Felix argued, sprinkling some powder. He then taped up the diaper and helped Seungmin back into his onesie. “There we go, Minnie. Aren’t you a clean baby?” He gave Seungmin’s belly a quick tickle. “Pa!” Seungmin squealed, giggling. Jisung gasped, his smile growing. “He’s cute!” He looked over his shoulder at Minho and Changbin, who was now in the arms of their caregiver. “Daddy, Minnie is cute like Binnie!” He gasped again, his eyes widening. “Their names rhyme too!” Jisung sprung up and skipped over Minho. “Daddy, does this mean Minnie could be our brother?” Minho’s eyes widened, and Felix cast his eyes down to the ground as he stood up with Seungmin in his arms. “Uh, how about you ask later, Sungie?” Minho inquired. Jisung pouted but nodded nonetheless. Minho chuckled. “Now, do you want to help Daddy introduce Mr. Lixie and Minnie to everyone?” Jisung nodded, bounding out of the room with Peanut tight in his hands. “No running!” “Sorry, Daddy!” Jisung shouted back. The group of five made their way down to the dining room, where most of the household was already gathered. “Morning, Felix,” Jeonghan greeted, a happy Wonwoo on his lap. Chris, who was sitting in his highchair halfway asleep, perked up upon hearing the Caregiver’s name. Felix tensed up before cracking a smile. “Good morning, Jeonghan.” Chris gasped happily. “Uncie Wixie! Minnie!” “Is that a little kangaroo I hear?” Felix questioned, a playful smile on his face. He quickly walked over to the highchair and tickling Chris under his chin. The Little giggled. “Uncie Wixie, tickwes!” Jisung skipped over to Chris’s highchair before sitting down right by it. Changbin was set down in the nearby highchair. When Minho realized that Felix was still standing near the table awkwardly, he cleared his throat. “Uh, Felix, there’s an open seat over here.” He then motioned at the seat right by his. Felix perked up before nodding. A light blush appeared on the younger’s face, but he sat beside Minho nonetheless. Seungmin was cradled in his arms. When Seungmin let out a small whine, Felix gave him a small bounce. “It’s okay, Minnie. Papa will get you a bottle.” “I can get that for you, Lix,” Minho offered. Before Felix could protest, his boss was already out of his seat and walking towards the kitchen. The table was mostly silent, with some noise coming from the Littles. Then Chris whined, “Mommy, hungy.” “Okay, Chrissie, give Mommy a moment,” Jamie responded, getting out of her seat. She moved to walk towards the kitchen, but Chris let out another whine. “No, Mommy, wan’ milkie,” Chris protested. Jamie raised an eyebrow. “Chris, is that how we ask for things?” The Little shook his head, tears pricking his eyes. Jamie cooed. “Aw, baby, don’t cry.” She walked over to the highchair and gently help Chris out. She got him settled on her lap. “It’s been a while since Mama’s given you milkie, hasn’t it?” Chris nodded his head, eyes shining. Jamie lifted her pajama shirt, and Chris latched on without hesitation. Jisung stared with wide eyes before looking back at Felix. “Mr. Lixie, can you feed Minnie milk?” Felix’s face turned a bright red while the others snickered. “Jisung really wants to know about you, Felix,” Yeji teased. Felix cast his eyes away from the table. He turned his focus to Seungmin. The Little was starting to get fussy, wanting to be fed. Jisung gave Yeji a pout. “If Minnie’s gonna be my other brother, then I gotta know about Mr. Lixie.” Felix’s face was hot from embarrassment. “Sungie, I don’t think your daddy would want that.” Jisung gave the Caregiver a confused look. “Why not, Mr. Lixie? Minnie’s super cute.” “Well… for Minnie to be your brother, I’d probably have to become your papa,” Felix explained. Jisung pondered the thought before pouting. “Do you not want to be our papa?” Felix’s cheeks turned a bright red. Jisung’s pout turned into a bright smile while the Caregivers began to snicker. “You do want to be our papa!” “Sungie, indoor voice,” Minho reminded, a bottle of milk in his hand. He walked over to the table and handed the bottle to Felix. He was smiling at the younger Caregiver. “Here’s Minnie’s bottle.” “Oh, thank you, Minho,” Felix muttered. He gently pressed the nipple of the bottle against Seungmin’s mouth before the Little began suckling on it. The table fell into silence once again before Minho asked, “So you want to be their papa?” Felix’s eyes widened as he snapped his attention over to his boss. “Oh, uh, I d-didn’t mean it like that,” Felix protested. “I wouldn’t mind that,” Minho admitted, a slight blush appearing on his cheeks. “Fucking finally!” Jamie cheered. The Littles all gasped, excluding Chris. “Sorry, dears, Auntie Jamie is just very excited.” “Why?” Hyunjin inquired. Jeonghan chuckled. “Well, let’s just say we’ve constantly heard about how much Uncle Minnie likes Felix.” Felix’s cheeks flushed a dark red. “If I had known that, I would’ve gotten more courage to tell you how I feel sooner.” Minho smiled. “How about I make it up to you by taking you out sometime this week? Since you live here, it’ll be easy.” Felix chuckled at the comment, but he nodded. “So Uncie Lixie will be our papa?” Jisung asked. “Maybe one day, Sungie,” Minho responded. Jisung gasped, bouncing in place. He smiled brightly at Changbin. “Binnie, we’re gonna have a papa too!” Changbin, while not completely understanding his brother, still squealed happily and clapped his hands together. Seungmin even seemed to pick up on the excitement in the room. He smiled up at Felix and cuddled closer to him. Minho let out a content sigh. This morning hadn’t even fully begun, and he could tell that things were going to be great.

Cas slumps into a chair. “Croatoan,” he mumbles, “of all things.” “Cas,” Dean starts, but Cas gives him a terrifying look. “Don’t tell me this isn’t my fault,” he snarls, and Sam is currently having a hard time believing Cas is human because that voice and that look are 100% pissed-off angel. “I wasn’t going to,” snaps Dean, and Sam has to give him points for being at least slightly diplomatic and not yelling outright. “I was gonna say you’re not going to do much good sitting there and beating yourself up.” A funny look crosses Cas’s face, one Sam’s never really seen before. “He’s right,” says Lucifer, not unkindly. “this is your mess and you’ve got to clean it up. Moping’s not gonna help.” Sam almost smiles. Lucifer’s only had a handful of real big brotherish moments, but they’re heartwarming for all their rarity. Sam puts a hand on Cas’s shoulder. “This might be your mess but it’s our problem, too,” he reminds him. “It’s personal for us. This isn’t just your burden. I mean hell, if you want to blame something, blame destiny for trying to screw with our lives. That’s what this all boils down to, isn’t it?” All three of them are looking at him now. Sam swallows uncomfortably. “You know. If we hadn’t started the Apocalypse then we wouldn’t have had to fight against it, and the whole Angel Civil War wouldn’t have happened–” “Sam,” says Cas, in one of his rare interruptions. “I do appreciate your mentality, but what I did was my choice, and I chose the wrong thing. I can only be glad that I have you to support me. All of you.” Cas looks pointedly at Lucifer with that, and Sam feels a flicker of surprised happiness from him. “‘Course you’ve got us, Cas,” Dean says, and claps him on the shoulder. He’s got one of his really rare smiles on, and Sam wonders for the millionth time what exactly made Dean go from blaming everything on Cas to standing by his side. He’s not going to push it, since it’s personal and god knows Dean’s allergic to feelings. “I guess I’ll... take another look at the Bible,” says Sam. Cas is looking at Dean with that something in his face and whatever it is, it’s making the entire room awkward.     Evidently, Bobby had been able to read the Hebrew in one of the hundreds of Bibles he left behind. Sam sure as hell can’t. At least not yet. One of the first things he’d done was to sit down with Lucifer, the Hebrew Book of Job, an English translation, and a pen and paper. It’d turned out that neither the original nor any translation said anything about how to kill them (or that they could be killed at all) so they’d labeled it as a lost cause. And evidently, Lucifer has an issue with using chairs the way they were intended to be used. It’s one of Sam’s minor pet peeves and it sets his teeth on edge for no good reason when he perches like that. “You won’t find anything in there,” he says, and shoots the Bible a skeptical look. “Nothing of use, anyway.” “So what, I’m supposed to sit around and do nothing?” snaps Sam. The Devil just shrugs and hands him a book.     He’s pretty sure Cas hasn’t slept since Crowley’s visit. There are dark circles under his eyes and he looks paler than usual; he’s been holed up in the library for days on end. Sam hopes he’s at least eaten something.     Dean spends a surprising amount of time around Lucifer, asking him to double-check facts or check translations. It’s heartening to see them getting along, one way or another.     After three days, Dean and Sam run into one of Crowley’s demons while on a midnight coffee run at a gas station. Nothing. One big, fat nothing. Nothing significant going on at Roman Enterprises, nothing from Crowley’s contact, nothing.     Sam can almost taste the desperation in the house by the time a week passes. They check the news constantly, keeping up with every single move Dick Roman makes. There is absolutely nothing to be found; they can hardly take on an army of Leviathans, just the four of them, and even all the hunters they can muster wouldn’t be enough.     Something’s happening. Sam feels it like the sharp snap of an epiphany and walks quickly downstairs, tugging a shirt over his head, and he nearly runs into Lucifer as he’s walking out of the library and into the living room. Lucifer looks at him briefly. “Castiel,” he says, and Cas’s dark head turns from the sofa. Lucifer says something in Enochian, then– “That would work. We could use that.” Cas stands up so fast that he dumps all of the books in his lap onto the floor; Dean looks over from the kitchen at the noise, brows furrowed. “Yes,” says Cas, without a trace of doubt in his voice. “I can do it.” Sam has no clue what’s going on but he can tell it’s deadly serious. “No,” says Lucifer, “you can’t. Not as a human.” “What the hell is going on?” barks Dean, sparking with anger already. There’s a rolling cloud of tumultuous emotions roiling in Lucifer and Sam doesn’t have the patience to sort them out, not now when something is happening. “There’s a spell,” says Cas, focused and sharp. “It hasn’t been used since–” He glances at Lucifer, who shrugs. “–for eons. It binds a creature – all of its iterations – and then uses the life of anyone working the spell in order to make them cease existing. It’s not a death spell,” he clarifies. “It’s the cessation of existence. An ultimate end.” Sam processes this for a few seconds and then Dean gets it. “No,” he says loudly, “Cas, no, you can’t do this–” “This is my mess, Dean!” Cas snarls back. “It’s the least I can do, to donate myself to end this.” Dean whirls on Lucifer. “You are not including him in this.” “He’ll do what he wants,” says Lucifer icily, “and if he wants to die in order to save this planet, then so be it. I might remind you that an angel has to cast this spell, Dean. There’s only one of those in this room. Besides, the more sacrificial lambs we’ve got, the better.” Sam unglues his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “Hold on,” he interrupts, “you can’t seriously be thinking of rounding people up and slaughtering them like cattle for this.” “Voluntary sacrifices, Sam,” says Lucifer impatiently. The room is silent for ten seconds, fifteen, thirty, then– “I’m in.” Sam surprises himself by saying it. It’s the right thing to do, just like it was the right thing to jump into the Cage. It’s something he has to do, he just knows. The look Dean gives him hurts more than anything he’s felt in a long time. “Sam,” he says weakly, “you can’t–” “Yes, I can, Dean,” he replies gently. “How many times have we died and come back? How many times have we done it to save people? This is– you know. Bobby’s gone. Dad’s gone. Ellen and Jo and Ash, they’re all gone. As far as hunters are concerned, we’re nearing the end of the line, too.” And god fucking damn it, Dean looks like he’s on the verge of tears. “Dean,” says Cas quietly, “you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Don’t let our choices influence yours.” “Yeah?” Dean’s knuckles are white. “How the hell does that work, huh? Everything I care about, wiped away, and me left behind? What kind of a choice is that?” Sam puts a hand on Dean’s shoulder and tries to swallow around the lump in his throat. Another minute passes in complete silence, and then Dean sighs. “You’re right.” Sam can feel him sagging under his hand. “Damn it, you’re right. This– I’m tired, I really am.” His eyes are suspiciously bright, and he’s refusing to look either Sam or Cas in the eye. “Better a bang than a whimper, right?” Cas moves forward and gently wraps a hand around Dean’s bicep; Sam senses that there’s An Impending Moment and slowly backs away. Lucifer is looking at him and his eyes are full of something great and terrible and sad. His heart twists. “Sam,” calls Lucifer; his voice is soft but there’s an undercurrent of seriousness that’s making Sam shiver. He follows Lucifer into the library, out of earshot of Dean or Cas. There’s turmoil in his gut and he can’t sort out anything, he’s still reeling and blank and shocked over what the spell would entail, mind being pulled in about seven thousand different directions but his attention snaps straight to Lucifer when he feels a cool hand on the side of his neck. “Sam, you need to understand that I can’t do this without you,” Lucifer whispers, sounding older than Sam’s ever heard him. “This is a sacrifice I’m willing to make but I cannot do anything without your agreement. We’re bound.” Sam swallows when the immensity of it hits him – that this isn’t something that either of them can do, this is something they have to do together. “This is mine and Dean’s business, first and foremost,” replies Sam. “I mean, if anything, I’m dragging you into this. I–” He pauses, swallows thickly. “I wouldn’t be able to go through with this unless I knew for sure I’d end up either with you or with Dean.” He knows he sounds desperate but he can’t help it; he sounds like every single person must sound to a Reaper, asking what’s on the other side, fooling themselves into believing they’ll get a straight answer. “I can’t make any promises,” says Lucifer, and Sam’s nearly drowning in his unspoken apology. “Either you and I end up in the Cage or you get sent upstairs. One or the other. The spell’s not going to take us with it.” Sam exhales shakily; his knees feel weak with relief. “I can’t do this without you either,” says Sam. “You and Dean and Cas.” He feels like a little kid, meek and scared and small. “I know, Sam,” murmurs Lucifer, and pulls Sam’s forehead down to rest against his. “I know.”     Cas falls asleep watching Star Wars that night. Dean forgives him – it’s Attack of the Clones and he’s got half a mind to turn it off, but it’s about to get to one of its few redeeming parts, so he pulls a blanket over both of them and absently combs a hand through Cas’s hair. He’s curled loosely into Dean’s side, one hand resting on his stomach with a couple of fingers just barely tucked under the hem of his t-shirt; his soft, slow breaths leave a trail of goosebumps down Dean’s neck. He can’t help but reflect on how much of an exception to every goddamn rule Cas is. It drives him crazy sometimes, the way his heart stops or stutters at the tiniest things Cas does, but it all boils down to the fact that at this point, he could live without Cas about as functionally as he could live without Sam. It’s scary and new and he doesn’t like to think about it but at times like these, when he presses a kiss into Cas’s hairline, everything feels okay. “Uh–” Dean starts and whips his head around to see Sam at the foot of the stairs, doe-eyed. “We are not going to talk about this,” he hisses fiercely, because knowing Sam it’ll dissolve into Feelings and Why Didn’t You Let Me Knows and How Longs and that’s the last fucking thing he wants. Sam still has that utterly weirded out look on his face when he puts his hands up in defeat. “Just– don’t be dumb,” Sam whispers back, and shuffles awkwardly into the library. Dean huffs and pulls Cas closer to him, resolutely ignoring the low voices in the other room and concentrating instead on Star Wars. Even if it is Attack of the Clones. Cas wakes up just in time for the fight against Dooku, even though he spends most of it with his head buried in Dean’s neck, half-draped across his stomach. He turns off the tv when the marriage scene comes on and makes a quiet noise of disgust; Cas sits up and yawns, then lies down with his head on the other side of the couch. Dean does a quick check behind him – the light’s still on in the library and Sam and Lucifer are talking – then leans over Cas and kisses him once, twice. “Come on,” he murmurs, mouth lingering on his jaw, “bedtime.” Cas looks at him with those stupid endless eyes of his and Dean’s struck for the thousandth time with wonder at how a creature like this could possibly want to be around someone like him. He eventually gets Cas to stand (even though he resolutely keeps the blanket wrapped around his shoulders) and watches him walk heavily upstairs. He takes a deep breath and walks towards the library. Sam and Lucifer are hunched over some old, thick book; Sam’s got a pen in one hand and Lucifer is dictating something too quietly for Dean to hear. He leans against the doorframe and clears his throat. They look up at the same time. “Sam, uh–” He pauses for a good few seconds, completely lost as to what to say, never mind how to say it. “With.... that. The stuff. Um, yeah, not–” He makes an oblique gesture with his hands, trying and failing to encompass Cas and himself and them and whatever it is that’s going on, the thing that has no name. Sam stares at him, and the steel bands around his chest loosen when the corners of his mouth turn up into a familiar, quiet smile. “Don’t hurt yourself, Dean,” he teases softly. “Whatever.” “You two are so articulate.” He catches Lucifer’s dry comment as he heads up the stairs after Cas, and resists the urge to walk back and flip him off.

Perhaps in some other world, some other time, Light's demonic blood would have remained dormant and he would have never known the power that was his true birthright. All it took was just one careless bite from a certain Shinigami who got a little too eager to eat an apple which Light held out, arrogantly, in his outstretched hand. Light scolded Ryuk for his carelessness but at the time he couldn't guess the repercussions that it would have—how he had just been infected and how this infection coupled with his heavy notebook usage and, for the first time in his life, seriously lusting after someone was playing havoc with his mind and body, causing an alchemical chain reaction that would culminate on the 28th of February, his eighteenth birthday… *** Light held soft raven locks in an iron grip as he forced the man's head down and trailed soft kisses across pale, unmarked skin of his neck and back. The other man writhed wantonly beneath him, his dark, ever-staring eyes were dulled and hooded with lust, but his cries were silent. (Light never heard his voice and his subconscious never supplied him with one.) The teen was just getting to the really interesting part of his dream when he awoke, once again to cold sweat and stained sheets. The brunet fell back against his pillow with a groan. It all began about a month ago. Light had listlessly filed into the exam hall just before the doors were closed, blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights that over-lit the room. He strode forward to take his seat, ignoring the other student's usual stares of awe and envy. Yes, he knew he was handsome and was at the top of the class. He didn't need them to remind him of how awesome he was. ( Just imagine if they knew that their God went to school with them...) Light merely (regally) nodded in return of Yamamoto's eager waving before taking his seat. He kept his eyes forward and ignored the staring. Maybe it was just the paranoia talking but he could swear more people were staring at him lately. He had mixed feelings about that. It was his rightful due as God of the New World to be afforded respect and admiration. However Light doubted that was the intent behind their stares—no doubt their motives were less than pure and in any case he didn't want to attract unwanted attention. And for some reason he was getting asked out much more often than before (Light hadn't thought that was possible) by girls and guys alike. (He'd rather they didn't stare so until after he had finished cleansing the world and they knew him as God and afforded him the proper respect...) But now... he found it unnerving, and he always worried that they somehow knew his secrets. Perhaps he should date more girls just to keep up appearances because if his father found out he was gay... Light had no doubt that shouting "I AM KIRA" at the top of his lungs to a room full of irritable, doughnut-deprived, cops with loaded guns would be a safer course of action... Light rested his chin in his hand as he waited, jadedly, for the test to begin. It was beyond irritating. He knew he was the smartest person here. Yet, here he had to prove it again, to jump through all the hoops. But what can you do? (Except show them, of course.) Still, it was annoying and it took away from his time. He could be using it to do something so much more productive... "And begin!" announced the proctor. Light stared at the blank page for a minute before resignedly picking up his pencil. This was new. Usually his focus was flawless and the answers would come effortlessly but for some reason he'd been feeling kind of distracted lately. Maybe it was the staring... no, it was more than that. It felt like something was crawling in the pit of his stomach. Weird. Maybe he had too much wasabi in his lunch. The teen twirled the pencil in his hand and then focused determinedly on the test before him. He'd wait until the very end of the test to write his name at the top of the sheet. Ever since he picked up the Death Note he always got nervous about writing his own name. He had just begun to run through the questions when he felt a prickling feeling at the nape of his neck like he was being watched... Well of course he was being watched—even though the exam had begun and the other students were in the process of testing, they were still sneaking glances at him or maybe his test paper trying to copy his answers. There was also Ryuk's constant staring but that was to be expected. It was familiar and Light considered it to be harmless. His Shinigami floated in the back of the exam hall—Light had with much patience (and with many apples as incentive) finally trained the monster to respect his personal space, especially when he was working like this. It wasn't his classmate's or Ryuk's staring that was making him nervous; it was a stranger's eyes he felt upon him. Just then the proctor walked by scolding "Student number 162! Sit properly in your chair." With a rising sense of foreboding Light slowly turned around to see the source of the disturbance and saw the strange man staring at him. That stranger. Light only saw him at the exam hall but "Student Number 162" had left quite an impression, he had been haunting his dreams ever since. It was really beginning to get on his nerves. Having stalkers was hardly a new phenomenon for Light Yagami. But his being attracted to one of them most definitely was. This was honestly the first time he had ever… lusted after anyone. Light decided he didn't like it. It was stupid, embarrassing, and a waste of time. After all, what were the odds he'd ever see him again? (Perhaps he should have… No. Kira did not have regrets.) It wasn't that he was fantasizing about another guy that so disturbed him. Light was well-aware of where his own preferences lay (not that he'd want to make them known. After all, he had an image to maintain.) It was the object of his desires. Why had he become so infatuated with a man that should by all rights disgust him? Well… maybe he might be a perfectly nice guy if he got to know him but still Light's first impression was that the guy was a creep. The unkempt pale, gangly, foreign weirdo had been staring at him all throughout the testing. His newest stalker would be there every day, Light would look over his shoulder to see the same greasy hair, the same wrinkled, baggy white sweater and jeans that he looked like he slept in... assuming he slept at all. And the guy kept getting yelled at for sitting oddly in his desk—no that didn't do it justice—the other man had been sitting with his bare toes wiggling on the surface of his desk. He took his test holding his pencil with the tips of his fingers. He looked like… like a retarded monkey! Which begged the question—why the hell was he attracted to him? Well... perhaps it was because the man had such a perfect air of mystery about him? Every time Light had stolen a glance his raven had always worn that same bland, blank expression on his face, betraying nothing of what he was actually thinking (and here Light thought his poker face was good.) And that he could get away with coming to the testing dressed like that actually said a lot. Touhou would never consider letting some crackhead off the street into their school so to get away with this behavior he must be really influential or really smart… or both. Maybe he was someone famous like an actor or teen idol without his makeup or computer enhancements? Actually that made a lot of sense. A celebrity wanting to go to school unmolested might affect such a persona in order to keep a low profile. And his mystery man did kind of look like a rock star. Hell, he could be Hideki Ryuuga for all he knew... And the other man was confident. That more than anything was probably what had held Light's attention. The other man didn't look away when Light caught him staring. No one had ever dared to hold his gaze before—they all looked away, but not this man. He stared right back. And while Light was loathe to admit it; he had found that incredibly attractive. In the end Light was the first to break their stare off. He had flushed, fidgeted in his seat, and crossed his legs under the desk in an attempt to stay focused on the exam in front of him. During the final day of testing Light had remained after taking the test to watch his watcher. His stalker always finished only a couple minutes after he did… Or maybe he had finished earlier and was waiting for him? (No… impossible. No one could finish a test faster than him. Well that is to say no one could finish the test faster than him and pass…) His stranger had moved oddly too, when he unfolded himself from his desk. He shuffled along with slumped shoulders—perhaps he had a back problem? Yet despite this (or maybe even because of this?) there was that underlying confidence that Light found so very attractive. The stranger handed in his test without a care and then stretched his arms above his head, loudly popping his back and revealing a tantalizing glimpse of what lay beneath those baggy clothes. Light had openly stared at the taut muscles of the man's stomach. He was lithe but strong, he must work out. Maybe he had a personal trainer? Light's eyes followed the slight curve of the man's hips to where they disappeared into the red rim of his boxers which were peaking out above the rim of those sagging blue jeans. The raven-haired stranger finished his stretching and just seemed to notice Light's staring. He smiled at him and the God of the New World suddenly found himself weak in the knees. Light had nearly approached the other man at that point, just to say "hi" or something, but had talked himself out of it at the last moment. He hadn't really chickened out. Not him. Not Light Yagami, Kira, the God-To-Be was not the least bit nervous about... asking someone out. (Come to think of it he never really had just asked someone out before—they always came to him.) There were numerous perfectly logical reasons why it would have been a bad idea—there were too many people around, asking a strange man he didn't know out for coffee would probably be seen as gay… and Light was perfectly happy in the closet, really… It wasn't worth the risk of his exposure. And things were just too weird right now. Seriously. He did not need to be in a relationship. Light lay, still in a half-asleep haze, nestled deep into damp blankets, staring at his ceiling. He needed to get up and change those… Dammit, he wished he was back in his dream! Because now he would have to get up and deal with all the crap of another day. More draining demands on his time, more stress, more boredom, more rude and rotten people, more mind-fuckery courtesy of L... (and no raven-haired beauty waiting for him...) Light yawned and stretched and for the first time became conscious of the odd sensations, the shifting weight on his back and head and his own body awareness snapped into focus... "Hey Light, are you awake yet?" Ryuk's voice floated in through the wall just before he did. "I know you said those were supposed to last the week but we're kind of out of apples now and I really need one bad—Woah!" "Ryuk! What the fuck did you do?" The Shinigami just stood there, stunned speechless as he gawked at his (former) human.

My erotic journey to my first big black cock is an interesting and delectable one. A journey that I did not think could or would ever happen. I thought it would simply remain a fantasy. A fantasy for me mostly, but also my husband, John. It was (and still is) a shared fantasy. I probably wanted it more than John did, but I will say he encouraged my sexual exploration. My name is Pam, and I am a mid-50's white woman. I am in very good shape (I think so and others have told me that) as I work out regularly and have good genes I guess. I am about 5'8" with dark brown hair that falls below my shoulders. My breasts are small but my nipples are extremely sensitive. My best attribute I think is that I have long legs that I have kept in great shape by running and doing aerobics. My butt is plump, but hey, I am in my mid 50's and have had four kids. It still looks good John tells me all the time. I have been an elementary school teacher for 30 plus years and I have a reputation of being a little bit uptight among the other teachers and staff. "Prim and proper Pam" or "Triple P (for prim and proper Pam)" I heard was my nickname, although no one ever called me that to my face. Well, except one person has, but that will come later in the story. I dress conservatively at school and never, ever talk about sex or anything off color. In the past, I have admonished some of the younger female teachers for speaking so openly about their weekend sexual exploits in the faculty break room or about some of the things they would wear to school, despite our school's teacher dress code. They would laugh and carry on despite me showing my displeasure. What can I say, when I came out of college and started teaching, we would never dress or talk like some of these new teachers do. Although I will say, that I have found some of their conversations to be a bit of a turn on. For instance, several years ago, a 25-year very attractive blonde teacher was talking about her date that weekend. He was an African-American who had played football at the local college. I did not hear all of the conversation as she was trying to talk quietly but I heard things like "the biggest cock I have ever had" and "he could fuck all night" and "he came on my face." I was blushing at some of the commentary but the other young female teachers loved the story it seemed and not a bit embarrassed to be talking about it in the faculty break room. It did make me a little hot and bothered to hear such sexy talk and when I got home that night, I fucked John as if my hair was on fire. John and I have been married for about 30 years and we had kids very soon after we got married in our early 20's so they are out of college and on to their own careers. Three of the four children live close by and the fourth, our youngest, lives across the country in a big city in California. Our love life has always been good but not super adventurous until John started to try and spice up our sex life by getting me interested in toys and porn. I can't say I blame him. We were in a rut for a while and we had both grown weary of sex in the missionary position. John was good about it though. We talked about it and he introduced things gradually. First vibrators and dildos and then movies. The movies were not terrible (except for the acting of course) but it did turn me on to watch other couples fuck and suck on the screen. One night, John and I were getting ready for a sex session when he popped in a movie. It was from a series that featured married women fucking black men. I was taken aback by John's choice and I said, "John, what in the world are you doing? I can't believe you want me to watch interracial porn. I have nothing against it of course, I just don't think it is my cup of tea especially with married women fucking other men." John said, "Relax Pam, just give it a try. I think you will like it. One of the actresses in this movie kind of reminds me of you. She is super hot and takes a really big cock." I replied in a bit of anger "so you already watched it without me?" I was a bit perturbed to say the least. John, in a worried state since it seemed like he had shot himself in the foot and was not going to get laid that night, said, "No, I just watched the preview before I bought it and when I saw that actress, I thought, wow, that looks like Pam. I am going to buy this and see if she likes it." I gave John a look like I didn't believe a word he was telling me but sighed and said, "Well ok, put it on if it will make you hard. I doubt I will like it much." So John put on the movie and we started engaging in foreplay as the movie played and we watched. At first, I was shocked and a little weirded out by the size of the cocks on the men and how the white women in the movie acted like such wanton sluts sucking and fucking those big cocks. But then I felt my pussy start to get extremely wet and very warm. Holy cow, I thought to myself, I can't believe that this is turning me on. John sensed I was getting heated and asked if he could go down on me. John is really good at eating pussy. That is one of his best talents! "Please do," I said as my pulse quickened and my pussy got wetter. "Wow, you are nice and wet, I guess you like this movie after all" John chuckled as he dove between my legs and started lapping at the folds of my pussy and sucking on my engorged clit. "Just shut up and eat my pussy," I said with enough emphasis that John got to work and started running his tongue up and down my slit and working two fingers into my sopping pussy. I grabbed his head with both hands and shoved his mouth unto my clit and said "suck on it" with an aggression that neither I nor John had ever seen me use in the bedroom. He did as instructed and I was slowly building up to an intense orgasm. 'Come on John, suck my clit like you mean it, I know you can do better." Oh my, I thought to myself, I am normally very submissive when we have sex but here I was ordering John to suck my clit and to suck it harder! John did as instructed and started sucking my clit like his life depended on it. At this same time, the actress on screen was riding her partner in reverse cowgirl and he had her legs pulled back so she was spread eagled and wide open. He was jack hammering what looked to be a 10-inch cock into her pussy with such force I thought he would injure himself and her. It was so erotic and I was transfixed. Then the actress started talking dirty, "Fuck me with that big black cock," "shove that big cock into me" and so on. She then said, "I love how you fuck me with that big black cock". That sent me over the edge. I grabbed John's head as hard as I could, shoved his face in my pussy, and wrapped my legs around his torso. "I am cumming, don't stop, suck on it John, suck on my clit" I screamed. John was doing his best to comply but my legs and hands were practically strangling him, never mind that his mouth was jammed into my pussy so hard he probably couldn't breathe. The orgasm wracked my body from head and toe and I momentarily blacked out from the intensity of the orgasm. My legs cramped and my stomach spasmed as I gushed all kinds of pussy juice and cream on to John's face. Finally, I released my grip on John's head and to his credit, he did not pull up for air but continued to lap at my pussy and suck my juices into his mouth. My arms fell back and my legs quivered and fell to the side as I was breathing like I had just run a 100-yard sprint. All the while, the movie continued to play and actress continued to be pummeled by the actor's huge cock. I couldn't take my eyes off the screen despite being incredibly spent. John pulled his mouth off and sidled up next to me, squeezing my nipples and kissing my neck. "That had to be the hardest I have ever seen you come Pam. I know I eat pussy like a champ but I think you like watching the hot little white slut get pounded by the big black cock." He was right. Watching that beautiful ebony monster just plow into that hot white pussy did something to me that I couldn't find the words to describe. Still panting heavily, I choked out the words that had been on my mind for the last few minutes "Well, you may be right, but how did you know that I would like interracial porn? I feel a bit embarrassed as turned on as I got while watching that big cocksman ravage that tiny white girl." "Oh, I just had a feeling you might like it. Lots of married women in their 40's and 50's fantasize about being taken and really fucked by a well hung black bull." John replied, answering my question. I paused the movie. "Black bull, what is that/" I asked, already figuring out the answer as I was asking the question. John smiled and said, "That is a well hung black stud who fucks a married white woman, pleasing her and fulfilling both her and her husband's fantasy to have her fuck a black guy." "Well looks like someone has been doing some homework that I, the teacher did not even assign!" I laughed aloud as I restarted the movie and said 'Let's see what other big black cocks are in this movie and what they have in store for these white wives!" We watched the rest of the scene and it was truly eye opening. The male actor must have fucked that white girl in five different positions and then came all over her face. She lapped up the come and then sucked on the head of that big cock, sucking out the last remnants of his cum. I was stroking John's cock during all of this, he was incredibly hard, and I could tell close to orgasm. I would edge him close to orgasm and then back off, not wanting him to come as I want to get fucked that night. The next scene came on and the actress had dark brown hair about shoulder length. John spoke up quickly "that's India Summer, I think she looks like you." I have to admit that she did a little bit, at least the hair and the face did but her tits were a good bit bigger and her ass was not as plump as mine was. My legs were better than hers I thought. At least I had that on her! She started going down on the actor, whose cock was as big as the actor in the early scene. She was sucking it and talking really dirty. I figured if John were fantasizing about India Summer, I would play along. So I kneeled next to him and took his cock into my mouth. Now John's cock is nothing like the guy on the screen's enormous tool but it was a decent size and always had done the job for me in the past. I started sucking on the head and talking dirty. "I love sucking your big, fact cock," "You like how your cock looks in my mouth," "I feel like such a sexy slut sucking on your cock" were some of the things I said as I was sucking John off. All the time I was sucking on John's cock, I was watching the movie and trying to emulate what the actress was doing. She was much more talented at sucking cock and talking dirty than me but I did my best to keep up. I was enthralled by the actresses ability to deep throat such a big cock and I tried with John. Although John is only about 6 inches, I could not take much more than half in my mouth and throat. While I was sucking on John, he was fingering my pussy and working my clit with his fingers. I was recovered now from my orgasm and ready to have another. Soon the actors on the screen switched positions and the male actor starting fucking India from behind with hard and swift thrusts. "Oh, that position looks nice John; do you want to fuck me like that?" I asked. John croaked out a yes as he was breathing heavy from my oral ministrations. He got behind me but I stopped him. "No, I want to be facing the TV as you fuck me because I want to watch that big black cock fuck India senseless." With that, I turned around and faced the TV on all fours. "Come on, stick that cock into my pussy and see if you can bang me like India is getting banged!" John did not need any more encouragement. He got behind me on his knees and rubbed the head of his cock over my wide-open pussy lips and my swollen clit that was sticking out like half inch from its hood. That is another sexy little tidbit about me. When I get really turned on, my clit sticks out pretty far, almost like a little erection and is incredibly sensitive. With one hard push, John slammed his cock all the way in pussy as he grabbed my ass with both hands and started banging me for all he was worth.. "That's it, fuck me hard like that, like you see on screen." Oh boy I thought, I hope that did not turn John off as it seemed like I was getting more turned on by the cock I was watching in the movie than him. But I was wrong. "Yes, I will fuck you like that, but you need that big black cock to fuck your sexy quim to make you really come. I know you would love black cock if you tried it." I reached down between my legs and grabbed John's balls as he pounded into me. Yes, I think John was right. I did want that big black cock. John continued to fuck me with all he was worth as I fingered my clit with blazing speed. The Stud on the screen reached down and grabbed India's long hair into a ponytail and pulled back, making her arch her back. He did not look like he was hurting her and her yelling to fuck her hard only increased. I thought, why not, I'll have John try that on me. We had not ever really played rough before, mostly I think because John doesn't think that I would like such rough play. I looked back and John and said "do that to me, fuck me like that." John's eyes got wide but he obliged my request and pulled my hair into a ponytail like on the screen and pull me back so my back was arching. "That's it, now fuck me!" I screamed, and John pounded hard into my sopping wet pussy. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!" I repeated over and over as I could not believe how sexy it felt to be fucked like that. The actor then gave India a few light smacks on her ass, and that caused her to scream harder, begging the stud to fuck her as hard as he could. After a minute or two, the male actor slowed for a minute and India looked back at him and said "Come on, don't fuck me like you love me, fuck me like a whore." With that the black bull gave India a few good spanks on her ample ass and jackhammered her cunt with a ferocity that stunned me. But my god, those words, "don't fuck me like you love me, fuck me like a whore" just sent me over the edge. My fingers worked my erect clit to a shattering orgasm. It was too much for John too as he shot his load of cum deep into my pussy. I collapsed and John collapsed next me, both of us breathing hard like he had just done wind sprints. "Wow, you ok, that was amazing, I don't think I have ever come so hard and had you come like that." John said, as he panted, trying to catch his breath. "Yes, that was amazing. I loved that and I love your selection of the movie! I hope you can find more like this!" I said, catching myself a little at the end as it was a bit forward of me to be asking for a certain kind of porn movie. But I was now enthralled by the big black cocks I had seen on the screen and the way they just pounded those white sluts into submission. John looked over at me with a surprised look on his face and said "Really, I was hoping you would like it and I am glad I took the chance on it. I definitely will look for more like this!" "Please do!" I said and we hugged and cuddled, completely spent from a more vigorous love making (I should call it a fucking) session than we had had in quite some time. After that night, John ordered some more interracial movies with big black cocks fucking white wives and girlfriends. John had to order the movies from an adult movie site because our rather conservative town did not have any adult stores, nor could he or I risk getting seen going into one. We really enjoyed watching these new movies and our fucking increased in intensity and frequency, up to 2-3 times a week. Not bad for a two 50 somethings! Some of the movies also included anal scenes, which was quite a turn on but I was afraid to try it since I couldn't imagine even John's six inch cock in my ass, never mind a ten inch cock! I did let John work his fingers and his thumb into my ass, and I have to admit it was quite the turn on! About this time, our school system hired a new superintendent. His name was Raymond Brown and he was in his mid 40's, had a Ph.D., was quite handsome and very well built (at least from what I could tell from the pictures in the paper). He was also black. Nothing wrong with that of course, he was enormously qualified, having served as an assistant superintendent in at least two other districts and was known to be quite the excellent school administrator. He made the rounds to all the schools in the district and he came to our school one day for a meet and greet and faculty question and answer. I have to say, I was quite impressed and he was very charming, smart and funny. I can see some of the younger white teachers giving him the eye. Sure, I thought, I bet you little sluts would love to suck and fuck what was probably a big fat cock. Damn, I thought to myself, I better stop thinking like that. After the meeting, the teachers were going up and shaking his hand and introducing themselves. I went up and introduced myself and Dr. Brown said to me "Pam, I understand you are one of the more senior teachers here at this school. I am going to have a retreat where I have a senior teacher from each school come together for a long weekend of discussion about the school system. I would like for you to join it if you can. I will have my assistant contact you if you are interested." I was startled and a taken off guard. I felt my chest and neck turn red as the flush went into my face. "Sure," I finally blurted out as my heart skipped a beat. The other teachers around looked on and a few, especially the "young sluts" as I came to call them, seemed a little jealous. "Great, it is going to be in about 3 weeks and my assistant will contact you about the details" Dr. Brown said with a big grin and a mischievous look in his eyes. I was a little taken aback because it seemed like Dr. Brown was flirting with me and I think the other teachers thought so too. After the meeting a couple of them commented on how lucky I was to be able to go on the retreat which is something that not many of us (if any) had ever had the opportunity. A few days later, I got a call from Dr. Brown's assistant, a youngish sounding woman who gave me he details and emailed me the registration link. The retreat was going to be about 4 hours away in a large city with great restaurants and cultural attractions. Dr. Brown's assistant Monica, assured me that while there would be plenty of work and time for the retreat group to work on things, there would be time for "fun". She emphasized the "fun" in a curious way I thought. She asked me if my spouse or partner would accompany me and I told her that I would get back to her. Later that day, I asked John if he wanted to go. He checked his calendar and said 'Well, if you really want me to go, I will but it is a big college and pro football weekend and I can spend the time doing some work around the house and watching some great football!' It wasn't the first time that John begged off from one of my educational conferences so I let it pass. He did remark, "You know there is a great adult superstore in that town from what I hear. Maybe you can go by and pick up a few things." He chuckled as he said it but was also serious. "Oh John, I couldn't do that, what if someone saw me?" I stated with some frostiness. "Who will know you?" John replied, "It is a city more than 4 hours away and has more than half a million people in it. You will be anonymous." I told John that I would think about it, but by no means to count on it. As the weekend drew near, I started preparing for the retreat. There would be about 30 of us there, one person from each school in the district, the principals and assistant principals and several district administrators as well as staffers from Dr. Brown's office. The agenda Dr. Brown sent us was an aggressive and exciting one and filled with lots of cool workshops and breakout groups. I decided to drive by myself instead of with our school's principal and assistant principal since I preferred to have the time alone to listen to books and the radio and not have to engage in chitchat with either of them. The retreat was Friday to Sunday but everyone was arriving on Thursday evening. When I got to the hotel, a very nice, very new hotel in the heart of downtown, I was very excited. It was a 30 story hotel with great views of the city. When I got to the check-in, I ran into Dr. Brown's assistant Monica. "Hi, Pam!" Monica said quite loudly and gave me a big hug. At first I did not know who she was but she said 'I'm Monica, Dr. Brown's executive assistant. We are so glad you could make it. This is going to be a very informative and exciting retreat!" Monica must have been all of 25 years old. Tall, blonde, drop dead gorgeous and a body that could and probably does, stop men in their tracks. I thought to myself, well Dr. Brown sure knows how to pick them! I was friendly to Monica in my reply and thanked her and Dr. Brown for inviting me to the retreat. I checked in and was given a room on the 10 floor. Not the top of the hotel, but I still had a really nice view. I connected with some of the other teachers who had arrived and we decided to go out for a quick bite to eat and get to bed early since we started at 8 am on Friday morning. The first day was full of meetings and workshops and break out sessions. We worked hard and I have to say, Dr. Brown knew his stuff about education and how to best deliver it. I was happy to have been invited and really felt like I was learning some new things for the first time in years. That evening Dr. Brown had arranged for a big dinner at a nearby Italian restaurant. We took over a private room and the food was great and the wine flowed. I went up to Dr. Brown during the dinner and said "Well Dr. Brown, you really know your stuff and I am quite impressed with the retreat subject matter!" Dr. Brown, looked at me very flirtatiously and said "Well Pam, I have noticed you paying quite good attention during the sessions, unlike some of the other teachers. I think you might be the top student so far!" With that he touched my elbow and gave it a bit of a squeeze. Yikes, I thought to myself, I am turning red and getting turned on! The evening ended and we got back to the hotel and almost everyone went to bed. A few decided to get a nightcap but not me, I went to my room, stripped off my clothes and fell into bad, lightly stroking my sex and thinking about how Dr. Brown is probably fucking that blonde slut Monica senseless right now. I fingered myself to a very nice orgasm and fell asleep. The next day, Saturday was a day that we only had about a half day of workshops. The rest of the afternoon could be spent doing what we wanted. John had texted me that morning and asked if I had made it to the adult super store in the city. I told him no, that I probably would not go, I would just be too embarrassed. I could tell John was disappointed but did not push it. That morning, Dr. Brown led one of the workshops. I sat in the front row, with my hair pulled back in a ponytail and wearing my new tortoise shell glasses. My "MILF" glasses as my husband liked to call them! Dr. Brown was very engaging and held everyone's attention. He walked back and forth as he spoke and at one point stood right in front of me, about 6 feet away. I quickly glanced towards his crotch and I swear I could see the outlines of what looked like a very large penis underneath his dress slacks, running down his left leg. I couldn't help but stare at the outline of that rather large member and unconsciously slipped the tip of my pen between my lips. Just at that moment, Dr. Brown looked down and saw where I was looking. Oh my god, I thought to myself. He caught me staring at his crotch! Dr. Brown smiled slightly without missing a beat in his talk and walked away. I was so embarrassed I thought I would die! The meetings ended for the day and everyone went their separate ways. We had the afternoon to our ourselves before the evening cocktail reception at the hotel where we would all come together for drinks and heavy hors d'oeuvres. John and I texted back and forth and I agreed to go to the adult superstore to pick out a movie or two and maybe a black dildo. John encouraged me to make the choices because he thought it would be better than him doing it and he can learn more of what turned me on in our new little sexual fantasy. So I looked up the address and steeled my nerves and headed out to the adult super store. I dressed as blandly as possible and wore what I thought people wear to such places. A sweatshirt, jeans and my hair tucked up in a baseball cap. This would be my first time ever at such a place. I was scared but also a bit excited. The adult store was about 4 miles from downtown out near the airport in sort of an industrial area. I thought to myself, well this is a little sketchy area but I am sure I will not see anyone here that might recognize me. I parked and went in. I was surprised. It was clean, well lit and neatly arranged. It has a sexy lingerie shop attached to it and I had to admit, it did not look like an adult store but looked like a nice department store! The clerk checked my ID and gave me a directory because the place was so big! I looked over the directory and headed to the toy section. I wanted to make this quick so I looked and found a six inch black dildo and put it in my basket and quickly made my way to the video section. I browsed the many aisles until I found the interracial section that was also sectioned off into certain fetishes. I found the one that said "white wives and girlfriends" and went down that aisle. There were so many and so many of them looked hot I didn't know what to do. I was going to only buy two and get the heck out of there. I found one with the title "white wives, black bulls, volume 10" and looked at the back jacket with the description and screen shots. Double penetration, 3 on 1, facials, anal, and a few other things read the description. It looked good and the men looked like they had big cocks and the women looked pretty. I placed it in my basket and all of a sudden, I was startled by a voice that sounded familiar. "Well, well, prim and proper Pam getting her freak on I see!" said the voice. It was Dr. Brown, I was petrified and thought about running out of the store but it was too late. Oh my god, the new superintendent caught me in an adult store! I wanted to crawl in a hole! I stammered a "Hello" but don't remember what else I said other than "uh, I was just looking... ". I then in a low voice said "Please Dr. Brown, don't tell anyone I was here, please. I don't know what got into me. I don't want to lose my job." Dr. Brown looked at me for a minute and said, "Pam, I wonder what the parents of your students would think if they knew that when you went out of town on this retreat, you went to an adult store?" Dr. Brown then said, "Well what do we have here" as he looked in my basket. "White wives, black bulls, volume 10". He picked it up and looked at the front and back of the movie jacket. "Looks like a good one for you and your husband to get off to Pam. Do you like watching big black cocks fucking white wives and fantasize about it being you?" He smiled broadly and looked directly in my eyes as he said it. "I don't know, it is really my husband's fantasy, not mine," I somehow choked out the words. Dr. Brown said, "Really? I don't believe you Pam. I saw how you were looking at my crotch this morning during the workshop with your pen between your lips. You were thinking about what it would be like to suck my big black cock weren't you Pam?" "Of course not Dr. Brown!" I replied in a fashion that expressed some shortness with Dr. Brown's astute observation. "Well Pam, I have fucked a lot of white women and many white wives, and they all said it was their husband's fantasy to watch them fuck and suck a big black cock, but I know better. And I can tell that you want my big black cock." Said Dr. Brown with some degree of authority. I was speechless and stood there not knowing what to do or where this was going to go. Dr. Brown sensed that I needed to be told where this was going. "Tell you what Pam. Instead of making a big deal out of this with my school board or the parents, I am going to make you a black cock slut tonight. I am going to have you live out your fantasy and I know it is yours as well as your husband's so don't lie to me again." He said it with such knowing authority, all I could do is shake my head yes. I don't know why I agreed, I guess I just want to make this end and not get in trouble. Nevertheless, I was also getting turned on. Dr. Brown said, "Good, I am glad we are in agreement how this is going to go. First of all, you can keep that movie. It will be good for you and your husband to watch and get off on." Dr. Brown then looked at the dildo and said, "Mine's bigger, much bigger. And when I get done with you tonight, you are going to want one much bigger than the one in your basket." With that, he said, "Follow me." I followed him back to the toy section and he made me put back the six-inch dildo. He directed me to the realistic porn star dildos of black pornstars. "Which one do you like?" he demanded. My head was spinning and I could not believe what I was doing. "I don't know," I stated with some exasperation, since I really didn't. There was Prince Yashua, Sean Michaels, Isiah Maxwell, Mr. Marcus, Flash Brown, Jax Slayher, Jason Luv, Anton Harden and others. I couldn't pick one and I was so embarrassed that I thought I would faint any second. Dr. Brown finally said, "Alright, I will pick one. We will go with Anton Harden since his is a lot like mine, thick and long, although mine is a little bit longer!' He laughed as he placed the Anton Harden realistic dildo in my basket. I was frightened by the size of the dildo but also turned on at the same time. Dr, Brown, then said "We are going to need to get you dressed up for tonight too so let's go over to the lingerie and costume section." I was now really worried and started to speak up. "Do not talk back Pam. You are going to be my black cock slut tonight because I know you want to be. You want to fantasize about getting fucked by a black bull, tonight you are going to experience the real thing." We went to the costume section first. Dr. Brown picked out a choker that said "black cock slut" on it with a little ring in the middle. "You will wear that tonight" he directed. Then he picked up a little leash that clearly attached to the ring on the collar. "We will need this too" he said. He also picked up a black riding crop and I thought to myself, oh no, I am not ready for this. Dr. Brown sensed my alarm and he said "No worries Pam, we won't use this tonight. We will save it for another time." And he placed it in my basket. Another time I thought, oh my how things have gone off the rails. Then we sent over to the earrings section. He picked out a pair of earrings that that the queen of spades on them that dangled down from the ear. "You will also wear these tonight" he said. "I can't wear these to the cocktail party Dr. Brown!" I croaked out as I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. 'Of course not, Pam! You will wear them to my room tonight after the party!" Dr. Brown laughed at my apparent naivety. Dr. Brown then picked up a queen of spades temporary tattoo and put it in my basket. "Put this on just above your shaved pussy bikini line. I love to look at it when I fuck white wives. You do have a shaved pussy don't you?" He asked. My look clearly gave it away that I didn't and he just laughed and shook his head, "well girl, make sure it is shaved tonight when you come to see me." "Yes sir" I answered him, now seemingly under his spell. I had never shaved my pussy before but I guess I was going to do it for Dr. Brown tonight! We then went into the lingerie section. He picked out a black garter belt, black crotchless panties, black stockings with a seam up the back and a push up bra with a place cut out for my nipples to protrude. He put them in my basket. I must have had three hundred dollars of items in my basket by this point. There was no way I could afford all of this I thought! Dr. Brown sensed my anxiety. 'Don't worry Pam, I am going to pay for all of this. I like my white wives to dress a certain way for me and I don't mind paying for it." Dr. Brown said with a toothy grin. I immediately felt relieved. "Just a couple of more things and we will be done." Dr. Brown said as I followed him dutifully through the store, like a teacher and a pupil. "Here we go" Dr. Brown remarked as we circled back to the toy section. We were in the "anal play" section. I was really worried about what was next. Dr. Brown found a queen of spades butt plug, one not too big and not too thick, sort of a starter one. "I expect you to wear this tonight to the cocktail party and when you come to my room later." Dr. Brown instructed me. "But Dr. Brown" I pleaded, "I don't know how to use this or how to get it in my...bottom" I said with a worried look. "Don't worry, you will figure it out. I guess I should have figured you for an anal virgin Pam, but after tonight, we will see." Dr. Brown smiled and gave me a pat on my backside. I was stunned and thought to myself that there was no way I was going to have anal sex tonight, no matter what Dr. Brown thought. Dr. Brown finally said, "Ok Pam, I think we are done here. I am going to pay for all of this but I want you to go to the mall and get some black stiletto heels for tonight. At least 4 inches tall. And some red nail polish and red lipstick. I like my black cock sluts in high heels, with red nails and red lipstick. Looks good with my black cock, you'll see." I could not believe that I was allowing Dr. Brown to order me around like this but I felt strangely turned on by his dominant tone and demeanor. "Yes, Dr. Brown, what time should I get to your room?" I finally asked, showing my incipient submission to his demands. The cocktail party ends at 10 pm, I will have to linger a little bit at the bar to politic a little so let's make it for 11 pm. Give me your phone, I will put my number in. If there is a problem and I am going to be later, I will text you." With that, Dr. Brown took my phone, put in his number and we went to the checkout counter. The 20 something female checkout clerk with piercings and tattoos, started ringing up the purchases and then looked me and Dr. Brown up and down. "Looks like someone is going to have fun tonight!' She chuckled aloud. I was so embarrassed and must have turned red as a beet. Dr. Brown said without missing a beat, "Oh yeah, it is going to be an all time show stopper!" Dr. Brown paid for the items and as we left, he reminded me that I needed to go to the mall and finish my purchases for the night's festivities. "And don't forget to wear that queen of spades butt plug to the reception" Dr. Brown ordered. "Yes sir.' I replied and got in my car, drove off and started looking for the mall. I drove in a daze for thirty minutes, not believing what had just happened and how I had committed to going to Dr. Brown's room tonight dressed like a black cock slut. What in the world had just happened? It was like I was intoxicated and did whatever he told me to do. I guess I am a bit submissive and I liked it when Dr. Brown told me what he wanted and what he expected of me. Still, I wasn't sure that I could go through with it. I went in the mall, found a shoe store, and found the 4-inch black stilettos that Dr. Brown had ordered that I wear. I tried them on and walked up and down to check the fit. The clerk remarked, "they look good on you hon, I bet your man is going to like them too!' and she gave me a wink. I paid for the shoes and found a makeup store. I found some ruby red nail polish and lipstick and bought them. I did not linger, as I needed to get back to hotel and start getting ready for the reception and my meeting with Dr. Brown afterward. I kept thinking of it as a "meeting" so that I would not get so scared that I would back out. I was still not sure what was drawing me to go through with it other than I was afraid that if I didn't mine and John's little fantasy would be exposed for all in our rather small and conservative town to see. I made one more stop at a Walgreen's and pick up a female razor and some shave cream. I had never shaved my pussy and I was a little hesitant to go "bare" down there. I got back to the hotel and hiding all of my purchases best I could, I headed to my room. I took a long hot shower and while in there, shaved my underarms, my legs and finally my pussy. It took me a little time to figure out how best to do it but when I was done, I was impressed that I had shaved myself completely clean and I actually thought it looked sexy. After drying off and taking care of my hair, I put on the red nail polish and tried on the red lipstick. The red nails and lipstick was quite sexy I thought to myself. I could see why Dr. Brown liked it. I then read the instructions and put on the temporary queen of spades tattoo between my belly button and my now shaved bikini line just above my pussy. I got it to stay and I hoped that I could get it off before I got home to John! I put in the queen of spades earrings and the rest of my outfit, the garters, the stockings, crotchless panties and the push up bra. I finally slipped on the stilettos and stood in front of the full-length mirror. Oh my god, I thought to myself. I really do look like a black cock slut! I still had not put in the butt plug but figured I needed to get very turned on before even attempting that. So I laid down on the bed and started stroking my clit that was starting to protrude from getting turned on by the thoughts going through my held. I stroke my clit and stuck first one, then two fingers into my pussy and worked them in and out. I fantasized about some of the scenes in the interracial movies that John and I had been watching and soon I was on the verge of coming. I frigged my clit as fast as I could and I had an amazing orgasm that left me breathing hard and my pussy sopping wet. I figured that I might as well make good use of the wetness from my pussy and took my index finger on my right hand and worked it into my ass, scooping up more wetness with my other hand and rubbing it around the rosebud of my ass. My sphincter began to relax and I pushed in my middle finger. This actually feels very good I thought. I reached over and grabbed the butt plug and slowly worked it into my ass. There, it was in! That wasn't as bad as I thought it would be but I still thought that there was no way that Dr. Brown was going to fuck my ass with his big cock. I looked at my watch and saw that there was only 30 minutes before the reception started. I cleaned up and took off my "black cock slut" outfit and got into a fairly conservative skirt that was below the knee, a buttoned up blouse and sweater and low heels. Back to "prim and proper Pam" except for the red nails and the queen of spades butt plug that was feeling really good in my ass and turning me on. I headed off to the cocktail party reception. The cocktail party was fun and there was plenty of good food and good drinks. I did not plan to talk to Dr. Brown but I did keep my eye on him. That little blonde slut Monica was at his elbow as he made the rounds and I had a little bit of a jealous feeling. Maybe he is going to fuck her tonight and not me I pondered. After about an hour or so, I had went over to the bar to get a glass of wine when Dr. Brown sidled up. "So, did you do as I instructed? Are you wearing the butt plug?" he whispered. "Yes sir." I whispered back, looking around to make sure no one was watching us. "Good. I have another instruction. I want you to wear your hair in a high ponytail when you come to see me tonight. I love to pull on my black cock slut's ponytail when I fuck them from behind. And you will wear your black cock slut outfit to my room. I saw you have a long coat. You can wear it over your outfit." Oh my god, I thought. I am on the tenth floor and Dr. Brown is on the 30 . I would have to ride on the elevator for 20 floors dressed like that! I was not sure I could go through with it. "Please Dr. Brown, let me change when I get to your room," I pleaded, my eyes starting to get moist as I thought I might cry. "No, you are my black cock slut tonight and you are going to act like one." Dr. Brown whispered in my ear and walked away. I had no choice. I would have to somehow get the courage to do it. The reception ended and I immediately headed to my room. I was shaking I was so turned on and scared at the same time. By 10:30 pm, I was ready to go. I applied the ruby red lipstick to my lips and put on the "black cock slut" collar. I pulled my long hair into a high ponytail and looked in the full-length mirror. Just look at me, I thought. I can't believe that I am going to be a black cock slut tonight. I felt like all of a sudden I had some belief that I could go through with it. Just then, my phone buzzed. It was about 10:40 pm. Dr. Brown had texted me. His text read, "Give me 5 minutes and then head to my room as instructed. Room 3022." I put on my long coat and stood there counting the time down. Finally, after 5 minutes I headed out, praying that I would not see anyone, especially anyone that I knew. I pushed the elevator up button, it dinged, and one of the elevators stopped. I looked into the elevator and there was a 40 something man and his wife. They were embracing each other but not kissing. We were both startled to see each other. I put my head down, walked on to the elevator, and stood to their left. The husband glanced quickly at me. I felt like a high-class escort visiting a swanky hotel. I glanced back and he gave me a knowing look. Holy shit, I thought, he thinks I am a high-class hooker. His wife smiled at me too and pulled her husband a little closer. He glanced over again and looked directly at my collar that said so all could see "black cock slut" and of course, my queen of spade earrings gave away most likely where and what I was headed for. Finally, the elevator stopped at the 28 floor and they got off. The husband looked back and said, "Have a good time tonight!" and I could see his wife punch him on the arm as he said it and the door closed. The embarrassment was more than I could stand and I was about to turn back when the elevator door opened on the 30 floor. I seemingly floated out and found my way to room 3022. I knocked once but there was no answer. I knocked again and stood there for what seemed like 5 minutes. I was about to leave when the door opened. There was Dr. Brown in a white bathroom, looking very sexy and very handsome. "Come in Pam, I am glad you decided to make it. I can't wait to turn you into my black cock slut tonight." Dr. Brown said in a very sexy voice. I walked in and his room was a suite, very nice with a commanding view of the downtown and beyond. Dr. Brown asked if he could take my coat and I unbuttoned it and gave it to him. Dr. Brown looked me over from head to toe and said, "Very nice, Pam, I see that you have followed my instructions perfectly. I love that shaved pussy too. I bet you like it also!" He was right; I liked my pussy being shaved! Dr. Brown poured me a glass of wine and we walked over to the couch, I could see that his cock was hard as it was making a tent out of the front of his robe. We sat down and we took a few sips of our drinks. Dr. Brown then said, "Pam, I want you stand up in front of me and run those red finger nails over you pussy and clit. I want to see how turned on you are before I even start fucking you." I did as he instructed and stood in front of him, spread my legs and started working my clit. I was getting incredibly hot and thought I might come right then and there. Finally Dr. Brown stood up. "Take off my robe." Dr. Brown demanded. I did as he directed and it fell away from his shoulders. He was as chiseled as any 21 year old and his shoulders were broad and his physique tapered down into a v at his waist. I purposefully did not look at his cock. I was too scared but I could tell just from the space between us that it was huge! He said "You can touch me Pam". I did not hesitate. I ran my red nailed fingers over his shoulders and chest and his rock hard stomach. I stopped at his waist. I then looked down and gasped. "Holy shit" I practically screamed. Standing straight out from his crotch was the biggest, blackest cock I had ever seen. It was 12 inches long if it was an inch and thick around as a baby's forearm. The head was as big as a plum and the veins running through it were thick and gave his cock an almost surreal look. There was no way that monster was going to fit into my pussy I thought. Not a chance. My hand drifted towards his cock but I stopped, I was not sure why. "Go ahead Pam, I know you want to stroke it, you have my permission." Dr. Brown said as he started to take control. My hands went to his cock and I started stroking it nice and slow. His balls were like small peaches and he had just a little hair in his pubic area. I was mesmerized by the size of his cock. How could anything be so big and fit into a woman I thought to myself? My fingers could not wrap around his cock it was so thick and I just stood there stroking it and trying to figure out if he was really going to fuck me with that monster. Dr. Brown then reached over and grabbed the leash and attached it to my black cock slut collar. "Let's go girl," and Dr. Brown started walking me into the bedroom, him walking naked in front of me as I was led along by the leash. I really started to feel like his black cock slut at that moment. He got to the bedroom and Dr. Brown sat down in the comfortable chair in the room and instructed me to get down on all fours in front of him. I got down as instructed and looked up at him and his big cock staring me in the face. I was practically drooling and I could feel the pussy juice running down my pussy lips and on to my thighs. Dr. Brown slowly stroked his cock from base to tip. It seemed like it was getting harder and bigger if that was possible. Pre-cum was dripping from the giant head. I wanted to lick it up, I was so turned on. 'Do you like what you see my little black cock slut?' Dr. Brown asked, already knowing the answer. "Yes, I do Dr. Brown.' I said as I licked my lips. "What do you want to do with this big black cock Pam?" Dr. Brown asked, again knowing the answer to the question. :Can I suck on it?' I whispered, almost too embarrassed to be saying the words. 'What, I can't hear you Pam, you need to speak up." He demanded. "Can I suck on it?" I said a little bit louder and now almost pleading. "What do you want to suck on Pam?' Dr. Brown said as he looked at me, knowing the answer. 'I want to suck on your cock, Dr. Brown." I replied like a dutiful slut. "And what kind of cock is it Pam?' Dr. Brown demanded. "It is a big black cock Dr. Brown." I finally said with some authority hoping that his teasing would end and he would let me suck his big cock. "Well Pam, you are almost there. Put it all together and tell me what you want to do." Dr, Brown instructed. 'I want to suck on your big black cock Dr. Brown, please can I suck on your big black cock?" I was now begging him. "Good Pam, you passed the first part of your black cock slut test. Open your mouth." Dr. Brown demanded. I opened my mouth and Dr. Brown pointed that veiny monster toward my mouth and I moved forward taking him in. My mouth was stretched as wide as it could go and I felt like I was choking on an apple. His precum tasted sweet and it almost felt like he was ejaculating but I knew he wasn't. Dr. Brown worked his cock into my mouth a few inches and said "Just go slow Pam, I know you have never sucked a cock this big before but by the end of the night you will know how to suck cock a lot better." I reached up to take his shaft in my hand and he stopped me. "No hands yet. I am training you to be a black cock slut. You need to learn to suck with your mouth and then use your hands on a big cock. No cheating." I followed his instructions and did the best I could with such a big cock in my mouth. I was getting more turned on as Dr. Brown worked more of his cock into my mouth and towards my throat. I reached down between my legs and found my clit and started working it, I can feel it was protruding a great deal as it does when I am enormously turned on. 'That's it my little slut, work that clit with those sexy red nails, I like that." Dr. Brown said as he continued to fuck my mouth with that enormous tool. Dr. Brown then stood up and that caused me to raise up so I was kneeling. Dr, Brown said "I love those red lips on my black cock, now I want to see those red nails. You can use your hands now." With those instructions, I took both hands and wrapped them around Dr. Brown's giant fuckstick. I stroked him up and down and sucked ravenously on the head of his cock. I felt like such a wanton slut, kneeling before this handsome black man and sucking his big black cock like a mad woman. I took his cock out of my mouth to catch my breath and licked up and down the shaft of his cock making it slick with my saliva. It shone so brilliantly that it was like I was being hypnotized. I just licked it up and down like a popsicle running my ruby red lips and red nails all over that giant member. For his part, Dr. Brown grabbed my high ponytail and forced my mouth back on to his cock. 'That's it, suck on my big black cock like the good little white slut that you are Pam. I knew from the first moment that I saw you that I would turn you into a black cock slut.' Dr. Brown barked at me as he face fucked me with his cock. I looked up at him, and I was completely in his control. I was turned on beyond belief and I knew that despite my misgivings about the size of his cock, I was going to fuck him tonight. Dr. Brown then reached over and took picked up my phone. I didn't know where he got it. He demanded that I give him the passcode. I felt helpless so I gave it to him. He opened the camera and said "Now we are going to make this interesting. Keep sucking my sweet little slut. I want to see those red lips and red nails on my black cock as I take a picture of you sucking on me. With that, he grabbed my ponytail again and pulled my mouth deeper on to his cock. He then snapped a couple of pictures of me with his big cock in my mouth and the hands wrapped around his member. He scrolled through my contacts and found my husband and sent him the picture. I had fear in my eyes as I could not believe what he had just done. 'Don't worry Pam, I bet your husband when he sees that picture is going to run to the bathroom and jerk off. I know he wants this as much as you do Pam." My mouth and hands had never left his cock and I simply gave in at this point. John wanted to see me suck and fuck a big black cock and he was now getting what he wanted I thought to myself. I kept sucking and stroking and soon felt Dr. Brown pick up the pace of his thrusts. I was still only taking about 4 inches of that 12 inch cock into my mouth but I was doing a pretty good job I thought. Then, Dr. Brown let out a loud groan and pulled his cock out of my mouth and started shooting ropes of cum all over my face. I thought I was drowning there was so much cum from the 5 or 6 shots of cum he streaked across my face and into my mouth. He then drove that big cockhead into my mouth and instructed me to suck as 5 or 6 more shots of cum emptied into my mouth as a sucked furiously to choke it down. Some of the cum dribbled out of my mouth and on my breasts. I had never seen so much cum from one man in one orgasm. I was having a hard time breathing and Dr. Brown sensed it and pulled his cock out of my mouth and rubbed it all over my face, directing the cum that had splashed on to my face into my mouth. I was never big on swallowing cum (I guess I was a "spitter" before Dr. Brown) but I savored every drop of cum that he shoved into my mouth. Finally, when he was done, I sat back and held that magnificent piece of man meat in front of me just gazing at its size and beauty. Dr. Brown only shrank a little bit from his erection and I started to work his cock with both hands to get him back to full attention. "Go clean your face Pam, I want to kiss you tonight but I don't like the taste of my own cum." He laughed. I chuckled too and sashayed off to the bathroom. "Put on some more of that red lipstick you little black cock slut" He shouted as I walked away. "Of course Dr. Brown." I said. I would do almost anything for that big black cock at this point. I went to the bathroom and cleaned up, reapplied my lipstick and headed back out for more cock. I got back to the bedroom and Dr. Brown was stroking himself and almost fully erect again. I thought to myself, this man is unlike any man I have ever heard of. Usually after one orgasm, John is done for the night! Dr. Brown instructed me to turn around. I did and he pulled my ass cheeks apart. "Good girl. he said. 'I am glad you wore that butt plug as instructed. And that placement of the tattoo is perfect!" With that he pulled me on to the bed and we kissed and fondled each other for several minutes. He stroked and fingered my clit and remarked at big my clit was. With that, he pushed me back on the bed and spread my legs wide apart. "I need to suck on that clit of yours, such a beauty!' He exclaimed. With that he licked up and down my shaved and already sopping pussy stopping to suck on my clit and roll it around on his tongue. I was shaking from Dr, Brown's handiwork and he kept going back and forth between rolling my clit on his tongue and sucking on it. Finally I grabbed his head and pulled his head into my pussy and screamed as an orgasm ripped through my nether regions. It was an orgasm that left me shaking and nearly crying from its intensity. Finally I caught my breath and my wits and reached over to find Dr. Brown's big cock standing at attention, like a big black nightstick, standing straight up and hard as an oak. I swung myself around and licked up and down the his beautiful cockhead and shaft. I sucked greedily on the head and slipped my tongue in his pee hole sucking out some more precum. Once it was slick and shinywith my saliva, I straddled him and slowly lowered my pussy on to his cockhead. It felt like I was being split by a policeman's flashlight. I looked down and saw that only the head was in my pussy and my pussy lips were stretched around it like a vise. "Just go nice and slow Pam, I don't want this to hurt." Dr. Brown instructed me as I tried to sink lower on to his beautiful cock. Finally, I had about 5 inches in and I leaned forward on my knees and slowly started riding him, not going deeper than 5 inches but trying to increase the pace. I could tell that my pussy was stretched more than it had ever been before (except for childbirth). I looked back, and I was creaming all over that black cock and it looked like I had coated his cock with cream. Dr. Brown pulled my ass cheeks apart and thrust his hips slowly upwards to meet my downward strokes, my pussy was wrapped around his cock like a hand in a glove and his cock was rubbing my clit like a hand was down there doing it. I was getting tired from riding and holding myself up and Dr. Brown sensed it. He told me to turn around and face the opposite direction. Reverse cow girl is what he called it. I did as I was told and I slid down on Dr. Brown's big cock and leaned back into him. He pulled my stiletto clad feet wide apart and started hammering my pussy with his cock. I was splayed wide open and my shaved pussy looked stretched to the max by that black monster cock. I reached down and fingered my clit with my ruby red nails and thought what a great nail color Dr. Brown picked. "Ok Pam, on your hands and knees, time for me to fuck you from behind." Dr, Brown said. I gladly obliged as not only was I on the verge of coming, but my legs were still wobbly from the orgasm and I needed a break! I got on my hands and knees and put my face down on the bed and stuck my ass in the air. 'Nice, I love to see a shaved pussy and a queen of spades butt plug when I fuck my black cock sluts from behind!" "Please fuck me Dr. Brown, I want your big cock in me so bad!" I said as he slowly eased that big cock still covered in my cream into my burning hot quim. Once inside, Dr. Brown started fucking me hard. My pussy had adjusted to his girth but not his length just yet, so he was still only stuffing me with about 6 inches of that giant cock. But six inches was perfect right now. I reached down between my legs and stroked my clit. It felt so fanstastic and the girth of Dr. Brown's cock had so filled by pussy that my clit and G spot were being massaged at the same time. My whole body started to shake and I thrust my ass backwards on to his cock. 'Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me" I screamed as he plowed his cock into me and I worked my clit like a mad woman. Then all of a sudden, I felt an orgasm come over me like never before. My breath was taken away and my body quivered. All of a sudden I felt a gush of warm juices squirting from my loins. It was like I was peeing, but I wasn't. I was squirting! I had never squirted before and thought it was all a myth! But here I was squirting all over my boss's big black cock! "Wow, Pam, that is some serious squirting you did!" Exclaimed Dr. Brown. "I love it when my black cock sluts squirt. Is that your first time?" All I could do is shake my head yes as I was incoherent at that point. "I love it when I make my sluts squirt for the first time!" Dr. Brown kept up the rhythm of fucking me, but not to hard, just enough to allow me to return to earth and come to my senses. Once I did, Dr. Brown abruptly pulled out of my pussy and walked over to the large picture window facing the city. "Come here Pam, I am going to fuck you while we look out over the city." With that, I wobbled to my feet, still wearing my stilettos and walked over to Dr. Brown. He gave me a deep, passionate kiss and then spun me around to face the city. With my 4 inch heels on, I was almost six feet tall so Dr. Brown has a good angle to fuck me from behind, standing up. He bent me over at the waist and then picked up right leg and held it up in the air about waist high. I could see our reflections in the window and it looked so erotic as he held my leg up and entered me from behind. I threw my head my head back and Dr. Brown grabbed my ponytail and and started kissing me neck. He then reached down and squeezed and rolled my erect nipples as I balanced against the plate glass window 30 floors above the city. He drove that big cock into me rapidly and inched deeper as my pussy. now becoming accustomed to its size, started to receive it more willingly. I looked out over the city and was entranced by the lights and the huge cock fucking me. Just three days ago, I was prim and proper Pam with a little dirty fantasy and now I am a black cock slut being fucked high above a major American city! We fucked in this position for like seemed like 10 minutes when Dr. Brown said "Ok, on to the bed. I want to see that queen of spades tattoo.' Dr, Brown picked up the leash that had been hanging down between my tits and walked me back to the bed. With obeisance, I followed and once over to the bed. I laid down and spread my legs wide. Dr. Brown got between my legs, his onyx nightstick of a cock still covered with my cream and my cum, standing straight out and looking almost angry, as the head was a deep purple color and the veins running through his cock looking more engorged than ever. Slowly Dr. Brown stroked his cock and said, "When I am breaking in a new black cock slut, I want to spread their legs wide as I can and see if they can take all 12 inches. If they can or come close to it, then I know I will have them again. I want to come on that queen of spades tattoo as well. That way they know that they are mine and they know what to expect. Are you prepared for that Pam?" "Yes, please Dr. Brown, fuck me like that, I want to be your black cock slut." I couldn't believe I was saying those words but I was now his, and I wanted to prove that I could be his black cock slut. With that, Dr. Brown rubbed his cock up and down my still soaked pussy and then pushed the head in a few inches. He grabbed by ankles (I was still wearing my stilettos) and he spread my legs so far apart I thought I might have dislocated a hip. "Ok Pam, guide my cock in at your pace and let's see what you can take.' Dr. Brown ordered me. I reached down, grasped that huge member, and slowly pushed it into my ever-expanding pussy. I got about six inches in, which is about as far as I had gone before. I closed my eyes and relaxed. Just do it, I said to myself. I slipped a another two inches in and I looked down, Wow, I thought, two third of the way in, And it looked beautiful, so hot and my pussy was wide open, slick with love juices and on fire! I leaned my head back and concentrated. I could feel two more inches slip in. "Whoa, that is really good Pam, take a look, you are almost there." Said Dr. Brown. He was right, I was almost there. I was almost his black cock slut. With that, I pulled him the rest of the way in. I looked down and he was balls deep in my pussy. I could actually see his cock in my abdomen it was so far up into my pussy. Damn, I did it! I laid my arms to the side, exhausted from the effort. Dr. Brown now told that I still had another test to pass "Now Pam, here is the rest of the test. Can you take me pounding this big cock into your pussy?" "Please fuck me Dr. Brown, take that pussy, I want to be your black cock slut!" I exclaimed. With those words, Dr. Brown slowly started stroking his cock in and out of my pussy, which at this point, had expanded to take his enormous length and girth. Long, slow and deep strokes, he would pull all the way out and then slowly push all the way back in. Dr. Brown was going slowly I think to not hurt me. I was now holding my legs apart as he fucked me. 'Fuck me Dr. Brown, don't fuck me like you love me, fuck me like a whore!' I shouted, as I just wanted him to plow into me. With that Dr. Brown started to fuck me so hard that his balls slapped against my ass and the queen of spades butt plug and I was screaming, "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me like a whore!' I had turned into a complete whore for Dr. Brown and at that point I did not care you heard. I was on the verge of another orgasm and I dug my nails into Dr. Brown's muscular ass and pulled him into me as rapidly as possible. My pussy was being devoured by his cock and finally I let loose with the mother of all orgasms. It hit me so hard, I blacked out for a few seconds. When I came too, my body was convulsing and shaking like I was having a seizure. As I was coming down from my orgasm, Dr. Brown started to come too. He pulled his cock out of my pussy and shouted "Here you go my black cock slut, take this cum!" And with that he shot a huge wad of cum all over the queen of spades tattoo and and my stomach. I reached over and grabbed my phone and snapped a couple of photos and sent them off to my husband. Damn, I thought to myself. What am I doing! At this point I was too delirious to care. I was Dr. Brown's black cock slut. Dr. Brown collapsed next to me and we hugged and kissed as we came down from an amazingly intense fucking session. "Well Dr. Brown, did I pass the test?" I asked with my smile on my face. "Yes you did prim and proper Pam. You are now a black cock slut. You are my black cock slut. I didn't take your ass tonight but we will save that for another time." Dr. Brown said. "I would love for you to take my ass Dr. Brown; I just don't know if I can take that big cock in it." I said. "Don't worry Pam, you didn't think your pussy could take my cock, but it did. You can do anything you set your mind to." Dr. Brown said with such assurance that I could not help but believe him. With that, I drifted off to sleep. I awoke at about 6 am. Dr. Brown was already up in the shower. I was confused and not sure where I was. I was covered in sticky cum and my pussy felt like it had been plowed by a truck. Dr. Brown came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, looking quite handsome. "Your phone has been going off for like 30 minutes, I think it might be your husband." Dr. Brown smiled. I looked down at my phone and I must have had 15 texts from John. I read them quickly and they went from shock and dismay to pictures of him with a hard on and saying he can't wait to hear all about it. It seems like he had fallen asleep and did not see the pictures that we sent until early this morning. I guess he finally realized that I had taken a big black cock last night and his shock turned into outright lust. Dr. Brown said "Well the first workshop starts this morning at 9 a.m. The retreat ends at noon and we will all be heading home then. Why don't you come over here and suck my big black cock one more time before we go." 'Of course Dr. Brown." I said like a good little slut and I walked over, now only in my stockings. I slipped on my stilettos and pushed him down on to the couch. I kneeled down in front of him. He was already hard and I grabbed his big cock with both hands at the base and just started sucking on the head. I gave him a blowjob he never would forget. Probably 20 minutes long and when he was about to come, I pulled off and let him come all over my face and in my hair. I slapped his big cock on my face and rubbed it all around after he shot his cum all over it. "There, am I your black cock slut now Dr. Brown." I asked, already knowing the answer! "Yes, indeed Pam, you have gone straight to the head of the class!" Dr. Brown laughed as he answered my rhetorical question. With that, I gathered my things, pulled myself together, slipped on my coat and left, giving Dr. Brown a quick kiss on the cheek as I took the slut walk down the hall to the elevator. It was about 6:30 a.m. and I was able to get back to my room unnoticed. I took a long hot shower, changed and called John. He was anxious to hear every detail. I told him to calm down and that we would have plenty of time to talk about all of it and how things might go from here. The last few workshops were uneventful and Dr. Brown and I said hello but acted as if nothing ever happened. I caught that slut Monica giving me the eye and I just winked at her. I am sure she was mad she didn't get fucked last night! As we were leaving the hotel and getting to our cars I bumped into Dr. Brown at the valet. I asked him why he was at the adult store at the same time I was. Was it just a coincidence? "Of course not Pam." He said. 'I pulled out just behind you from the hotel. I was going in the same direction towards the mall when I saw you pull in to the adult store. You never saw me. I saw how you looked at my cock that morning and I knew that I could make you a black cock slut as soon as I saw you head into the adult store." "Well I am glad you did, Dr. Brown, I am happy to be your black cock slut!" I said as the valet pulled my car up. I jumped in to my car, gave Dr. Brown a wave and drove off, with at least four hours to think about my next black cock slut adventure!

Sherlock was impatient. He pulled out his phone and sent off a quick text. Where are you? – SH John should have been home twenty minutes ago. Sherlock held his phone between his palms, hands steepled and fingertips pressed against his lips in his typical thinking pose. He allowed his eyelids to droop, his view of the ceiling from his position on the couch unfocused as his thoughts travelled inward again. The case was nearly solved. He knew the Stewarts, both father and son, were the killers, and after taking longer than usual to collect the necessary data and come to a solution, he was absolutely itching to verify his theory. His phone vibrated in his hands and his eyes flicked instantly down to view the screen. Almost home. Decided to walk. – JW Sherlock scowled at this. He seriously considered going to confront the murderers without John, but ended up deciding against it. After the last time Sherlock had gotten hurt while chasing a criminal on his own, his flatmate had made him swear not to rush into dangerous situations without him. And while Sherlock hated to depend on anyone, he was willing to admit that John’s presence and gun-wielding abilities would be welcome and helpful in this situation. Besides, based on the time at which John’s shift had ended, the pace of his gait – taking into account mild fatigue after work – and probable obstacles and delays that he would encounter on the way, he should be home in the next eight to ten minutes. Still, Sherlock sent a fast reply: Hurry. – SH So, in an attempt to pass the time without imploding of impatience and boredom, he began construing possible reasons why John would decide to walk instead of taking a cab back after work. The doctor’s appearance would inform him which of his theories was correct. Perhaps he simply wanted to stretch his muscles after dealing with patients and paperwork for six hours, but the current weather was the typical for London – cloudy and chilly – and not ideal for a long walk. So maybe he wanted the time to think. John was always doing that, going out to “get some air”, when he was angry or pensive. If he was angry, what for? Most likely because of an incident at work… A difficult patient? An argument with a co-worker?.. Or was he still angry about the stomach in the fridge? Surely not – he understood the importance of determining what the victim had eaten right before death… Within four minutes Sherlock had come up with twelve likely scenarios that could have led to John’s walking home instead of taking a cab. For the next three and a half minutes he imagined all of the Stewarts’ possible reactions to the impending confrontation and some likely outcomes, though there were still too many variables to determine all outcomes accurately. Sherlock could feel how tight his net around the murdering duo had become and knew that they would also sense the pressure of their imminent capture and arrest. Sherlock knew that they knew how close he was and this made him all the more impatient. If they felt trapped and desperate, they would lash out or run before Sherlock could get close. It was for that reason that, seven minutes and thirty six seconds after texting John to ‘hurry’, Sherlock was by the door to the flat, pulling on his long coat and wrapping up his light scarf, when he heard the loud screech of tyres against pavement, followed by a muffled thump. The subsequent screams were covered by a revving engine and another screech of tyres. Sherlock was flying down the stairs and at the front door of 221b Baker Street by the time he heard the sound of the car speeding away. When Sherlock was collecting data, he preferred to use as many of his senses as possible. Sight, hearing and smell firstly, though taste and touch could be equally vital to the process. For example, seeing the pattern of blood spatters on a wall, hearing the waver in pitch of a lying voice, smelling the trace of cigarette smoke on a couch, tasting the hint of poison in a wine glass, feeling the moisture of rain on a coat… All coming together to create one glorious image of the truth. With nothing but his ears to go by, Sherlock had deduced the following: a speeding car had hit something or someone and had quickly driven away from the scene. But this was not enough. He needed to see the scene – what had been hit, the skid marks left by the tyres – and smell the scene - the type of gas, the burning rubber – to get the full image. This curiosity of a new puzzle and need for the truth had him yanking open the front door and rushing out onto the sidewalk before what he saw stopped him cold. Stopped him like no other crime scene, no matter how gruesome or disturbing the sight, had done before. The small figure sprawled on the ground eight metres away was broken and unmoving, his sandy grey-blond hair matted with blood, his right arm at an impossible angle. Sherlock’s brain shut down. For a few long moments, as he so enjoyed accusing of others, he could see but not observe. He couldn’t – his mind wouldn’t let him. His senses were still inputting data – woman on phone approaching victim, people screaming, scent of burnt rubber and hint of metallic rust, his own heart hammering in his chest, blood pounding in his head – but his brain refused to catalogue the information. Sherlock’s face was blank, eyes dazed, as his legs slowly moved him closer to the man on the ground without his accord. The woman was speaking frantically into the phone and more people were beginning to loosely encircle the victim, who still had not moved. Then, finally, when Sherlock was two strides away, he saw the man’s chest rise – he’s breathing – and the relief, so intense it was nearly painful, caused him to stumble forward. He was unable to recover, for the next second his brain decided to come back online, and he felt his knees begin to give out as information suddenly bombarded his mind: trauma to back of head – likely severe concussion, possible back and neck injury, cracked ribs likely, small and ring finger on right hand fractured, right shoulder dislocated, blood on trousers: probable damage to right leg and hip – undeterminable due to baggy trousers, left wrist possibly sprained, woman still speaking to 999 operator, bystanders too close. What scared him most however, was what he couldn’t see: possible internal bleeding. All of these deductions, yet as Sherlock’s knees hit the ground and he began to reach out a hand to check for a pulse, the loudest thought – for he could think of many things at once – was a frantic mantra of JohnJohnJohnJohn. In fact, when he noticed his lips moving, he realized he was probably saying it out loud, too. Sherlock noticed his hand was shaking as he reached for John’s neck, his breathing shallow and fast, and a panic attack bubbling menacingly in his chest. Focus! He desperately clamped down on his emotions. John needed him and he couldn’t help if he couldn’t think. John’s pulse was sluggish – 51 bpm – and weak, but there. With his free hand, Sherlock pulled out his phone and sent the same text to Lestrade and Mycroft: John attacked injured - SH. Additional information was unnecessary at this point – Mycroft likely already knew and if Sherlock didn’t specify an address, Lestrade would assume Baker Street. And the lack of punctuation would alert them instantly to the severity of the situation. As Sherlock’s eyes roamed swiftly over John’s body again, taking stock of injuries, all the data he had collected within the last three minutes created the scene of the attack – for it was definitely not an accident – in his mind. Car, following him since end of shift, speeds up as John approaches 221b on his left, walking in street. John alerted by screeching tyres – quickly turns to avoid worst impact, car hits his right side, he rolls onto hood and over car, lands hard on street, breaking fall with right arm. Head hits pavement, but not as hard as it would have had he not reacted so quickly. Driver escapes as people rush to John. Sherlock’s rage at the offender caused his eyes to glint dangerously, his blood to boil and his hand to clench into a fist. He welcomed the anger, which helped keep the panic at bay. John suddenly shifted minutely and groaned. “John!” Sherlock’s deep voice was anxious and still tense with fury. John’s head attempted to turn to face Sherlock’s voice but then he moaned again and Sherlock’s hand whipped out to gently stop the reflex. “Don’t move. You’ll aggravate your injuries.” “Sh’lock?” John slurred weakly. “Yes, yes, I’m here,” he reassured him, keeping his fingers pressed against John’s neck. He needed the contact, the feeling of the reassuring pulse under his fingertips. John swore and his face scrunched up as another wave of pain hit him, his breathing turning into shallow gasps – definitely cracked ribs. Seeing his friend like this, Sherlock realized something that made his chest constrict with dread and his body suddenly go cold. The panic bubbled again and he was having a more difficult time suppressing it now. “John. John, tell me what to do, I don’t know what to do,” he demanded desperately. Eyes squeezed shut, John was attempting to control his breathing. “Need you to stabilise my right arm,” he ground out, voice breathless and laced with pain. He opened his eyes then and glanced at his arm. “Ugh…” he moaned, seeing the shoulder popped out of its socket. “What a mess. Normally…I’d pop my shoulder…back in myself…but...think my Ulna’s fractured, too…I’d pass out…” His speaking was broken up with heavy gasps. Sherlock hesitated. John was the doctor, not him! This whole situation was wrong, backwards. John was meant to be the healer, tending to Sherlock’s wounds, not the other way around. He knew, of course, how to stabilise an injured arm – in theory – but he’d never had the chance to actually try before and wasn’t too keen on practicing on the doctor, who was in so much pain already. John’s eyes tried to meet Sherlock’s when the detective didn’t respond right away and Sherlock suddenly noticed that John couldn’t seem to focus. “John, can you see properly?” “Mmph, you’re blurry,” John mumbled. Sherlock swore. John had no doubt hit his head on the hard pavement. His vision problems were a clear symptom of concussion, but Sherlock was unsure how severe the head trauma was and he hoped fiercely that he didn’t have a brain hemorrhage. He swore again. Where was the bloody ambulance? Needing desperately to do something other than just wait helplessly, Sherlock decided it really would be best to try to immobilise John’s broken arm and dislocated shoulder. If that was done when the paramedics arrived, they could tend to the more concerning head trauma. Sherlock quickly pulled off his scarf and was distracted by the oppressive presence and voices of onlookers. “Back off!” he hissed at them, voice and eyes expressing such venom that most everyone took a couple nervous steps backwards. Only one man stayed where he was, watching Sherlock’s movements disapprovingly. “Don’t touch him! Leave him for the paramedics!” Sherlock didn’t even spare the energy to send the idiot an angry retort because at that moment John’s dazed eyes slipped closed and his breathing slowed alarmingly. Sherlock’s heart lurched painfully. “No! John!” he yelled and tapped the doctor’s cheek, resisting the urge to shake him lest he cause more damage, to rouse him. “John, open your eyes. Don’t go to sleep on me now.” John’s eyelids fluttered. “M’fine,” he muttered. “No, no, wake up, John. Open your eyes.” “Mmm, m’wake. Go ‘way.” If his voice hadn’t been so weak, the annoyance in his tone would have been comical. “Alright, John, I’m going to stabilise your arm now. This is going to hurt,” Sherlock warned him, hoping that the additional pain would actually help keep his friend conscious a bit longer and not send him into shock. Sherlock made a fashion of a sling with his scarf and secured John’s broken arm and dislocated shoulder as best he could, forcing himself to work quickly and not hesitate when John’s eyes went dazed and wide with pain and his lungs hissed out all their air. With the task finished, John was left ghastly pale and panting, and Sherlock realized that he himself was not much better, with shaking hands and a light head. Where was all this empathy coming from, he wondered. Once John had calmed down a bit, he managed a weak smile. “Thanks,” he murmured to Sherlock, who was glad to see that now that the arm was immobile and not shifting minutely with every breath, John appeared to be in significantly less pain. In the next moment, Sherlock heard the sound of distant sirens of a quickly approaching ambulance. The moment after that John’s eyes slipped closed again. “John! John, help is almost here. John, wake up!” He almost added please but decided that would sound too much like begging and refused to believe the situation merited that kind of behaviour. Even if John’s eyes still hadn’t opened. Even if John’s skin had become so pale that internal bleeding was almost a given. He just kept saying his name and ordering him to wake up. Once the paramedics arrived, everything was a blur. Sirens and lights filled the street, bouncing off the buildings and becoming amplified, pounding on Sherlock’s senses. The onlookers that Sherlock had been tuning out were told to give them space, and someone was trying to pull Sherlock away from John, loosen his grip on the jumper, rip him away from his lifeline. It was irrational, but he couldn’t bear to let him go. If he did, John would slip away from him forever. It wasn’t until a familiar voice begged him, “Sherlock, you need to let go! Give them space to work!” that Sherlock managed to uncurl his tense grip and allow himself to be pulled up and stumble back, out of the way for the paramedics to swoop in and envelop John’s still form. He didn’t allow his gaze to waver, however, staring at the back of a medic as if he could see through it to what it was obscuring. He was unaware of the hand on his arm until it became restraining, holding him back from following John as he was lifted into the back of the ambulance on a stretcher, neck and head supported by a neck brace. Sherlock whipped around. “Let go,” he hissed in fury, yanking his arm away from – oh, Lestrade, he realized vaguely. The Detective Inspector blanched a bit at Sherlock’s unexpected intensity, but grabbed him again and didn’t back down. “No. Sherlock, you can’t go with them. I’ll take you to the hospital, but John will probably be rushed straight to surgery once they get there.” Sherlock resisted for only another few seconds as the ambulance doors closed, but then went still as it sped away. Lestrade still had a grip on his arm – his wrist actually – and he wondered briefly why the DI was shaking him. He looked down and realized that, oh, he was the one shaking, not Lestrade. Sherlock’s breaths were coming quick and shallow, he felt lightheaded and he had to swallow hard against nausea. He heard Lestrade gasp. Then: “Sherlock, you’re in shock.” His voice held just a hint of disbelief. Even shaking and beginning to hyperventilate, Sherlock managed to roll his eyes at the DI. Obviously. But his dizziness was getting worse and he really wasn’t feeling all that well, so he allowed the older man to lead him to his cop car and sit him down sideways in the front passenger seat. He saw alarm on Lestrade’s face when he didn’t even refuse the hideous orange shock blanket. Sherlock ignored him and turned sideways so he was sitting in the seat properly. “Take me to John,” he ordered, infusing his voice with all the annoyance he felt at his body for betraying him, for causing Lestrade to dawdle and fuss over him when all he wanted was to go straight to John. He couldn’t blame Lestrade for being surprised though – the last time Sherlock had gone into shock like this had been during his druggie days. Sherlock simply didn’t go into shock, no matter how close the bullet or how near the death. But he supposed John had always managed to surprise him and affect him differently from everyone else, so he should have predicted this, really. Lestrade eyed the shivering consulting detective critically and Sherlock tried to get himself under control. Finally, Lestrade nodded and walked around to the driver’s side, getting behind the wheel. “Put your seatbelt on,” he ordered, and turned on his lights and sirens so that they could speed through the streets to the hospital. Sherlock was out of the car and walking briskly into the hospital before it had come to a complete stop, Lestrade rushing to catch up with him. Once inside, Sherlock walked directly to the front desk and demanded to know where John Watson, 5'6", blond hair, hit by a car, had been admitted. Lestrade had been right, he was in surgery. So, Sherlock and Lestrade were directed to a waiting room, where, as soon as he sat down in an uncomfortable plastic chair, Sherlock whipped out his phone and sent a text to his brother. Who is responsible? – SH Sherlock was, in fact, fairly certain he knew who was responsible, but he wanted to make sure and was unwilling to leave to verify it himself. Two minutes later his suspicions were confirmed in the form of a grainy photo, a still shot from a CCTV camera. Sherlock’s jaw clenched in fury, seeing the familiar face of the youngest Stewart, sitting behind the wheel of the car about to hit his blogger. He had let this go on for far too long. Tonight, it would be over – he would finish it with his bare hands. Mycroft, knowing his brother well, sent him another text. Allow us to take care of the Stewarts. – MH Sherlock did not respond, fuming silently. Damn Mycroft for meddling in his affairs. No, the Stewarts were his; he would not allow his brother to take away the pleasure that would be hearing their bones snap under his hands. But Mycroft knew his brother well and so sent him a third text. Stay where you are needed. I will take the matter into my own hands. – MH Sherlock raised his eyebrows at that. Both parts of that text were surprising. Mycroft thought Sherlock was needed at the hospital? Was he? Did John need him here? Sherlock’s presence could in no way affect the outcome of John’s surgery or recovery, not really, and he could be doing something much more productive – and satisfying – elsewhere. But… if John needed him, then he would stay. And he would be there when John woke up. And John would wake up. Sherlock refused to think that was debatable. Perhaps staying was for his own peace of mind as well. The second part of the text was surprising due to the fact that it was so out of character for Mycroft. The words were not coincidence or chance. They were carefully chosen and only thinly veiled the threat of bodily harm Mycroft promised to issue himself. But Mycroft never got his hands dirty. He made the decisions, concocted the plans, essentially was the British government, but never carried them out himself. It seemed Mycroft was more fond of the ex-army doctor than Sherlock had thought – or at least fond of the effect he had on his brother – if he was promising to take matters into his own hands. So Sherlock ground his teeth together in displeasure and huffed out a breath in annoyance, but sent his brother a one word reply. Just this once he would allow Mycroft to do this for him and be satisfied knowing the Stewarts had been punished, if not as severely as he would have liked. Fine. – SH After that, Sherlock attempted to make his nervous energy look like impatience and irritation instead of worry. He bounced his leg, tapped his fingers and his eyes shifted restlessly. He had to stop himself multiple times from running nervous hands through his hair or over his face – sure signs of anxiousness. He couldn’t fool Lestrade though, and he jumped when the DI touched his shoulder lightly. “He’ll be fine, Sherlock,” he said soothingly. “John’s one tough bastard. He lives with you after all, doesn’t he? He’ll pull through.” His attempt at levity sounded slightly strained though, and Sherlock scowled without looking at him. Lestrade could make no promises or reassurances. He knew less about John’s condition than Sherlock did. How long had they been sitting here? Half an hour? An hour? Two? Sherlock didn’t know – his inner sense of time felt off. It felt like it had been ages. Well, if John was going to be a prat and take his precious time, then Sherlock could amuse himself by deducing the other people in the waiting room. John would disapprove, but Sherlock disapproved of him letting himself get hit by a car, so tit for tat, wasn’t it? Besides it was a distraction. Because the longer he sat there the harder it was for him to keep those abhorrent thoughts out of his mind. Those thoughts of John lying on the street, lying pale on a table, lying still under someone’s scalpel, lying prone with his pulse ceasing under Sherlock’s fingertips… Sherlock shook his head sharply and focussed on two figures sitting across from him. Young girl being held by elderly man – grandfather – grandfather stroking girl’s hair, anxious, so soothing gesture. Girl’s mother, grandfather’s daughter in ICU, likely single mother… After another immeasurable amount of time – Sherlock had finished dissecting everyone else in the room and was becoming increasingly restless – a doctor finally walked into the room and called for Mr. Holmes. He sprang up and was intimidatingly close within seconds. The doctor faltered for a moment under the consulting detective’s piercing glare, absorbing her body language, and, before she could speak, some of the tension was released from Sherlock’s shoulders. “He’ll be fine.” Sherlock said, in obvious relief, to Lestrade who had come to stand behind his shoulder. The doctor’s mouth opened in shock, but Sherlock didn’t feel like explaining his deductions. Not without John there to tell him it was ‘fantastic’. “He’s in recovery?” he asked to get the doctor talking. She blinked and recovered quickly. “Um, yes. It was mostly his right side that was injured. He had a dislocated shoulder, has a hairline fracture on his Ulna, a couple broken fingers, a badly bruised hip –” “What about his head?” Sherlock demanded, not caring to hear about injuries he already knew about. The doctor took the interruption calmly. “He has a severe concussion. He’ll have a bad headache for at least a week and will likely suffer some small memory loss, but there should be no permanent damage.” “Any internal bleeding?” Sherlock said before she could continue, observing her reaction. Her eyes flicked away from his, her arms pulled slightly tighter to her body and her shoulders hunched almost imperceptibly. Sherlock went cold. “Yes, there was internal hemorrhaging from the spleen – ” Sherlock paled (Of course. The blurry vision, the drowsiness, the pallor – all symptoms of a ruptured spleen) but realized that that was better than what he had originally suspected. He’d thought it was a possible brain bleed. His relief that he had been wrong for once - a very rare occurrence - was cut short as the doctor continued. “– managed to stabilise, though I should inform you that his heart did stop once on the operating table.” Lestrade sucked in a sharp breath. “What room is he in?” Sherlock asked sharply. The doctor flinched slightly at his icy tone. “247. But you really can’t –” she began, but Sherlock was already passed her and stalking down the hall, leaving Lestrade to deal with her. He found the room and stood outside the door for a moment, trying to calm his thrumming energy. He did not wish to disturb, only reassure himself. Slowly, he pushed open the door and let himself in, a painful tightness in his chest and gut. John's face was slack in unconsciousness and he was hooked up to numerous liquids and machines, pumping him full of blood, antibiotics, painkillers and saline solution, and keeping track of his heart rate, breathing and homeostatic levels. His right arm was encased in a cast and held close to his body in a sling – Sherlock was relieved to see that his shoulder was no longer deformed – and his broken fingers were held in a splint. He was covered in abrasions and bruises and, though Sherlock couldn’t see his legs under the blanket over him, he fortunately didn’t see the outline of any casts. Slowly, Sherlock made his way over to the chair on John’s less injured left side – he only had a light brace on his slightly sprained left wrist – and just sat there, realizing how close he had come to losing his closest and only real friend while simultaneously revelling at how lucky he had been. No, not lucky, he corrected himself. Quick. For it was John’s swift reflexes, that had allowed him to turn and roll over the car, controlling as much of the outcome as possible, that Sherlock had to thank. And still John’s heart had had the nerve to briefly stop, to threaten Sherlock with solitude and loss, unfamiliar, boring human emotions he had not known he could feel. The fury he felt at the father and son that had done this roiled just under the surface, even worse than the ire he had felt at the American for hurting Mrs. Hudson. This was a fury he could almost taste, that left a red haze in the corners of his vision, and he deemed them fortunate that it was only the British government dealing with them and not Sherlock Holmes. With one arm wrapped around the knees folded up to his chest, Sherlock reached out with his free hand and lightly pressed his fingertips to the inside of John’s left forearm. He couldn’t feel it as strongly as he would in his wrist or inside of his elbow (which had a transfusion dripping blood into his vein), both of which were unavailable for his touch, but the pulse was still there, beating strongly under his light pressure. “Sh’lock,” came a soft sigh, and Sherlock’s eyes darted up in time to see John’s eyelids flutter closed. Sherlock placed his whole hand on John’s forearm in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture. “Yes, I’m here, John. You’re alright now.” “Mmm…” John breathed, smiling slightly, before falling back into unconsciousness. If he had really even been conscious in the first place. Probably not, Sherlock figured, but he was glad all the same. Glad that he could be there to give his friend some small comfort at least. That was infinitely more important than any sort of revenge he could exact on the Stewarts, he decided.