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January 30 2018

2962 e7ac


pls reblog and tag whether you were a peter pan, wizard of oz, or alice in wonderland fan as a kid and ur astrological sign thank u

January 29 2018

2975 26b9 500
do i still taste of war?
can you still feel the battles on my skin
stitched across my back
am i still rebuilding
bone by fragile bone?
what does forgiveness taste like? ( r.n. )
2983 fb1d
3007 c0e3


Killian grew quiet at the other man’s words, defeated self sinking farther back into his seat as he momentarily lost himself in thought, only blinking back to awareness at the dip of the couch beside him. Finger played with the frayed fabric of his jeans as he looked up, sighing in defeat as he took in the mess he had made. 

Bloody hell.

He had avoided the subject of Milah - unsure of what the older man knew and reluctant to bring it up lest it lead to more questions, but teeth raked over his lip as he prepared to answer, certain that it was time to let the man he had come to trust with his own life into the special hell his life had become.

“There was a girl - Milah. She got me, she calmed me down whenever I was sure me temper was gonna ruin everything I had. But he - he took her from me.” He paused at that, tongue sweeping out over suddenly dry lips as he fought the surge of emotion welling up once more at dredged up memories. He could still hear the loud ringing shot from the gun, still feel Milah slump in his arms as she ran soft fingers in a trail along his face. I love you, Killian

He cleared his throat as he sat up straighter, purposely avoiding Guy’s gaze as he pressed on, words halting and few as he struggled to explain, to make him understand. “ I was holdin’ her, you know? It was meant for me … and it hit her. There wasn’t a chance the doctors said, the fuckin’ bloke had been too good with his aim…” Fingers clenched into a fist at his side, blue eyes finally sliding sideways to meet the older man’s. “ He was jealous. They had been together for a few years … Christ. I wish I had never seen her, you know? She could have stayed alive, she could have been happy … and she’s not. All because of fuckin’ me.”

Words grew silent after the confession, head shaking slowly back and forth in answer to Guy’s last question. “He’s in jail, or at least he was … “ Brows furrowed as he grimaced in pain, the urge to break suddenly upon him once again. “I’ve kept up with him. tried to at least … he was supposedly let off, claimed he was too mentally incompetent to be held accountable. He’s gonna come back…I know he is… “  Jaw clenched, face shifting into a hardened expression as he flexed his muscles, fingertips leaving crescent shaped marks in the palm of his hand. “I’ll be ready for the fucking git this time. I’ll make him pay for what he did, for what I lost. And I don’t care if takes me losing my own life to do it. That fucking bastard will pay.”

Whatever he’d expected to hear from Killian about this man who had ruined his life, the tale that was being spun out for him hadn’t even been close - jealousy, murder, revenge - no wonder they thought the Irishman needed a bodyguard…no, a babysitter. If this was the sort of thing that lived in Killian’s past, then Guy reasoned that he was severely underpaid for the job he was expected to do.

But nothing in him was prepared for the gut-punch that he felt when the younger man described the girl, Milah. 

Fool, he mused, of course he’d have a girlfriend in his past - hell, probably dozens of them. A man like Killian, unhinged as he could be from time to time, would undoubtedly have thousands of women clamoring for his attention, and the odd spike of jealousy that caught him off-guard was absolutely ridiculous. You’re a babysitter, you oaf. A hired thug. And you’re old, remember?

You’re here to do a job. Nothing more.

Shrugging off the inner voice and ignoring the dull ache that had settled behind his eyes, Guy drew a breath and blew it out, regaining his equilibrium once more. He was useless if he couldn’t keep his emotions under control - especially when there’d been absolutely no indication that the Irishman had any interest at all. 

Christ, what a mess.

Closing the door on his unruly thoughts, the older man sighed, shaking his head as he brought the subject at hand back to the forefront. If this man was hunting Killian, then it was his job to stop it, even if it meant placing himself in the line of fire. That would be the easy part, he mused. Finding out any information about the git would be much harder, especially if Killian couldn’t get through a conversation about him without blowing things up.

“Listen, I know you’re angry and I know it’s hard, but you need to tell me more. I need details.” Meeting the Irishman’s gaze and hoping against hope that he couldn’t read the disappointment in  Guy’s eyes, the older man nodded slowly. “I’ve got your back, Killian. No matter what.”


The feeling had welled up suddenly - the sense of loss for everything that had been left behind, every comfort it seemed the two of them would never have - the pain of it had nearly left him breathless, doubled over in the woods doing his best to heave up a breakfast that hadn’t really existed in the first place.

At the shifter’s words Killian caught his gaze, face grimacing in a twisted expression at the remembrance of how he had acted - how he had failed. He had spent the whole bloody journey trying to be brave, trying not to let his thoughts get away from him … and here he was, six weeks into their escape and shaking like a leaf. Frowning the Irishman stood straighter, giving a quick swipe to his mouth with the back of his hand, nodding in affirmation when it seemed no words would come.

Guy had promised, had said from the beginning that they’d find somewhere safe, some semblance of home and it was with a flush of shame that the younger man opened his mouth, apology already spilling forth from wet lips. “ I … I know. I’m sorry, yeah? Its just - this whole thing with me and with you … I’m kind of scared, yeah? I want … I don’t want to lose you. I just want to be somewhere we call home. Together. A home with you.” Growing quiet Killian chewed on his bottom lip, one brow raising in question even as he once more caught the older man’s gaze. “ It is out there, right?”

Truth be told, he’d been waiting for it, for the inevitable crumbling of the facade that Killian had been wearing, the brave front he’d been putting on since they’d started this adventure together. The Irishman wasn’t built for the kind of things that had been demanded of him in the name of survival, but Guy would never complain about how hard his companion had worked to learn, how much he’d pushed himself to keep up with the ‘shifter as they fled across the wilderness.

“It’s alright to be scared, Killian.” The words were spoken softly, Guy’s solemn gaze meeting the younger man’s frightened eyes reassuringly. He held out the canteen, urging Killian to rinse his mouth after being sick, understanding reflected in his expression. “I’m proud of you. Did you know that?”

It didn’t take any effort at all to see the disbelief written plainly on the Irishman’s face, and Guy allowed the faintest hint of a smile to tug at his lips as he stepped closer to his companion, one hand moving to grasp Killian’s, fingers twining gently together. 

“You’ve been frightened of what’s out there, but you’ve stayed with me anyway, facing that fear and carrying on in spite of it.” Guy drew the younger man’s hand up to his lips to press a gentle kiss to the chapped skin, his smile widening. “We’re going to find a home, love. Somewhere you and I will be safe and comfortable.” 

The ‘shifter tugged on Killian’s hand then, pulling him closer until Guy could enfold him in strong arms…arms that were never going to let go of the treasure that he’d found. Eyes widened at the thought that crossed his mind in that moment, the question that ached to be asked and refused to be silenced. 

“Will you be mine, Killian? For always?”


Killian snorted at the words, blue eyes sliding sideways to study his companion with a rather incredulous expression. The rain dripping from the forest canopy above made it hard to see and the Irishman shook his head, spraying water as he did his best to push wet bangs out of his eyes. The dilemma in question was getting steadily closer if the rumbling vibration coursing through his legs was any indication and the Irishman’s jovial expression gave way to a grimace as he thought once more about their shortage of ammunition.

Tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek as he glanced once more at his older companion, grinning despite the ever larger looming threat of death that was no doubt making their way towards them. Stepping forward and closing the distance between them Killian grabbed at Guy’s shirt, fingers clenching into the damp fabric and pulling him closer as rough lips found his own.

If he was gonna die he was gonna die happy, dammit.

Breaking away and raising one eyebrow he gave another shake of his head, lips curving up once more as he gestured to their tattered and muddied clothing. “ You git. You never take me anywhere nice.”

It had been an observation, nothing he’d expected Killian to respond to, gaze fixed on the towering waterfall before them and ears tuned toward the rumbling sound of danger approaching behind. Theirs seemed to be a no-win situation, but they’d already survived a few of those since everything had gone to hell so Guy wasn’t exactly in a full-blown panic just yet.

Registering the Irishman’s grip on his shirt, the older man turned just in time to catch Killian in his arms, savoring the kiss for a moment that was far too short in duration before they were parted once more. But he refused to relinquish his hold on his companion, one hand moving up to tangle in the wet hair that spilled over Killian’s collar, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips.

“How about we survive this and take a nice skiing trip somewhere? Lots of snow, no lizards of any kind, what do you say?” 


@twisted-but-pretty already got this but i had to rewrite it, it was so short. AMY IM SORRY FORGIVE ME. LOVE ME PLEASE

The cloudy London weather hung over the city like a damp cloth, saturating every thing from buildings to people as they hurried on through mid afternoon activities. Sitting in the back of his cab, fingers tapping restlessly against one knee cap, the Irish detective glanced once more at his phone, letting out a huff of exasperation as they crawled to a stop once more.

Bloody-”  The area of that particular block was familiar and Killian seized on the chance, stuffing a couple of tenners into the driver’s hand and ducking out into the busy London street. Ignoring the cries and honks of other drives he jogged his way to the side, shoulders hunching into the cold mist. He bloody hated that sort of weather - aye, it either need to rain or not rain.. not do this damned mixture of them both.

Working his way through the afternoon crowd he slipped into one of his favorite cafes for a cuppa. The line was long, the woman behind the counter frazzled and unkempt and it was with a harried smile that the Irishman waited, counting the wasted seconds in his head. It was too bad, that .. he thought as he once more entered the damp air. The location had once been a haunt of sorts, a place for a man to get a drink with nothin’ but his own company .. but recently it had seemed to come alive with patrons practically appearing out of the bloody woodwork.

Doing his best to shove off his impending mood Killian made good time to his flat, shouldering through the door and giving a muffled curse as the phone in his jacket pocket vibrated. The tone was shrill, angry, and he cursed again, blue eyes furtively glancing down the hall as he maneuvered his coffee cup to the crook of his other arm; fingers fishing for his cell in hopes he could make the damn thing shut up before Mrs. Hatfield down the hall emerged to try setting him up with his older daughter once more.

He’d seen the younger one, thank you very much … that left next to no doubt that the older lass could go just the same way …

 The other man on the line was cursing, throwing in a few good digs at Killian’s mother as well and the Irishman sighed, switching the phone to the crook of his neck as he fumbled for his keys, taking the stairs two at a time.

“Aye, I know but - “ Cut off mid sentence he waited, rolling his eyes skyward as he walked down the hallway toward his own home. “Jesus Bob, would ya listen to yourself? The man can’t have shot his own damned bloody hand off, yeah? Trust me when I say it’d be a might difficult, aye? And I’m speakin’ from experience here- “

Not watching where he was going and too intently focused on his partner’s reply Killian walked right into a box, only realizing belatedly that it was even there. “Christ - “ He fell with a lurch, stopping himself not a moment too soon and letting out an extra loud expletive as hot coffee poured down his front, soaking into his jack and dampening his shirt. His phone was on the ground, the loud shrill voice of Bob echoing through the hall and the Irishman made a face, shaking coffee off of one sneaker as he leant down to pick it up. “Bob - Bob! Aye, listen, will ya?I have to call you back … “ Trailing off Killian muttered to himself, blue eyes glancing upwards at the sound of another’s presence and cheeks flushing slightly.

Right. Boxes. New neighbors.

Ignoring his once again ringing cell phone the detective stuck out his one hand, shrugging good-naturedly towards the other one. “Killian Jones. I, um … “ Blue eyes glanced furtively at the now coffee soaked box and he scratched sheepishly behind one ear while giving his newest acquaintance a grin.  “ I can … buy you a new box? Or at least a new whatevers in there, yeah?”

If there was one nice thing he could say about being in prison, it was the fact that he never had to pack and move anything - a detail that one could easily overlook in the grand scheme of things, Guy mused with an inward smirk. It had been seven years since he’d needed to worry about such things, seven years since the sound of children running in the halls, nosy neighbors, late utility bills…and seven years of loneliness that suddenly came to an abrupt end when his sentence had been served.

The task of finding a flat had been fairly painless thanks to the aid of his attorney; the woman who’d helped him receive a much lighter sentence than the prosecution had been asking for had also taken it upon herself to get him settled into a new flat, a new job - hell, she’d even waived his final fee so he could get himself some furniture and a few sets of clothes to wear to work. 

He’d have been grateful, had she not promptly tried to maneuver herself into his trousers shortly after their last appointment.

Shrugging off the irritation that came along with thinking about the situation, Guy placed the box he’d been carrying onto the kitchen counter, turning toward the door once more as he heard the sound of what must have been another neighbor making his way down the hallway. Someone named Bob was on the receiving end of the call, and as he overheard a snippet of the one-sided conversation Guy couldn’t help but chuckle to himself.

His amusement was short-lived, though, as he emerged from the flat just in time to see the man in question nearly kill himself on one of the boxes that were stacked just outside the door, hot coffee spilling everywhere and the phone flying across the hall to land on the floor.

“Ah, hell. I’m sorry.” Guy hurried over to help the newcomer, wincing at the sight of his coffee-stained shirt. “It was careless of me to leave it sitting there. If you have…uh, do you dry clean? I can pay to have your shirt cleaned…”

Floundering about for anything else he could say to make amends, he finally just sighed. Bloody great first impression on the new neighbors. Out of jail for twelve hours and you’ve already made a hash of things.

“I’m Guy. Gisborne,” he added after a moment, mentally cringing at his own ineptitude. “Sorry, my social skills are a bit rusty. Can I at least get you another cup of coffee to make up for the one you’re…um…wearing?”

January 28 2018


He hardly registered they were moving, mind too caught up up in the sensual tickles of rough fingertips brushing against his stomach to notice their faltering steps, only the grip of his hand around the older man’s arm keeping his ass from hitting the leaf strewn ground. Teeth raked over his bottom lip as he let out a groan, relishing the accompanying sting that was proof of what had just transpired.

Thank bloody Jesus. He hadn’t dreamed it…

Desperate to feel the shifter’s lips on his own once more Killian opened his mouth - what should have been a plea cut short by the return of Guy’s own. Momentarily taken aback by the sharp of teeth against soft flesh he hesitated, eyes growing wide and one brow quirking upwards at the quick swipe of Guy’s tongue that followed. Expression quickly turned to a scowl at the older man’s decision, lips already forming the words to dispute it even as he put an end to them once more.

Fingers trailed down his spine, tracing every ridge of bone, all but torturous in their slow side and the younger man groaned in frustration, shifting in an attempt to get them closer. Still puzzled by Guy’s earlier statement he frowned, teeth biting at his lower lip and sucking it back between them as fingertips trailed along the soft hair at the nape of the older man’s neck. He wanted him, he had more than shown that … why was he suddenly backing off? Did he think he was weak?

Fueled by frustrated anger at the thought and spurred on by the rough hands that gripped his ass Killian shoved Guy away, flat palms pressing against the shifter’s chest in an attempt to open up the distance between them. Confident that such a move would make the other man’s confidence falter Killian stepped forward so they were once again a bit closer, one brow quirking upwards as his gaze held Guy’s own and deft fingers worked at the button of the older man’s jeans. 

Aye, not ready was he? He’d show him..

Tongue pressed to the inside of one cheek as the button popped free, lips curving upwards in a smirk as he moved, sliding to his knees before he could talk himself out of it. The dirt on the ground was cold, seeping through the denim of his jeans just enough to falter the younger man’s courage and Killian paused for a moment, confidence suddenly waning. 

What if he was doing it all wrong?

Brows furrowed together in grim determination as he pressed onwards - for once not letting the voice in the back of his mind get to him. He wanted this and the other man did too … the evidence of that was obvious enough. Blue eyes widened slightly, gaze flickering up to hold the older man’s own as fingers reached out, wrapping around hardened flesh and bringing it between them. He blinked, slowly, eyes moving to the part of Guy he held in his hand and tongue swiping teasingly across already moistened lips. Leaning forward he licked the tip, savoring the salty taste before breaking away. Grinning to himself the Irishman pressed forward, wrapping his lips around warm, taut flesh and sucking gently as blue eyes once again moved upwards to find the shifter’s own.

Christ, yeah. He definitely wanted this.

He’d known his words would strike a raw nerve with Killian, the unspoken challenge in them one from which the Irishman would refuse to back down, and while the ‘shifter’s concern about going too fast might be well-founded, he also knew that he needed to trust Killian’s judgment - if the younger man believed he was ready for more, then that was what he’d get.

That thought was sidetracked when the other man gave a shove against Guy’s chest, separating them by a short distance before closing the space once more. This time, though, it was with wide eyes that the older man watched his companion lower himself to the ground at his feet, the hungry expression on his face nearly the shapeshifter’s undoing as nimble fingers worked to release the button at the top of Guy’s jeans. 

“K…Killian?” The words were spoken with a hoarse voice, breath rasping in his throat as the younger man’s fingers slipped within and wrapped around the ample evidence of his need. “Jesus Christ…”

The ability to form words at all disappeared as the Irishman’s lips wrapped around him, the unbelievable heat of his mouth and the almost aggressive approach to his attentions left Guy unable to do anything more than groan - a sound that rapidly devolved into growls of pleasure. It took every bit of patience and strength he had to keep the grip gentle when he ran his fingers into Killian’s hair, allowing the younger man to control his own actions without interference.

Before he could lose himself completely in the moment, however, Guy pulled away, his gaze fixed on the Irishman’s face with his heavy-lidded eyes and the reddened, pouting lips…damn it

“You don’t know what you’re asking for, love,” he murmured, voice gruff with raw, aching need that had been pushed almost to the breaking point by the man before him. He pulled his would-be lover to his feet, fingers slipping around to grasp the Irishman’s ass in a possessive hold that left no doubt as to the state of the shapeshifter’s willpower.

“Stop me, Killian. If anything scares you or…god help me, if it hurts…you stop me.”


It wasn’t until they were settled safely in the truck, worn seat pressed solidly against his back, that Killian allowed himself to breathe, allowed himself to think for a moment that everything was actually happening. He was getting away. He was free. Teeth bit at his bottom lip as he focused on his still racing heart, taking a couple of deep breaths before finally relaxing enough to look around.

“ Is this yours?” Probably wasn’t the best way to start a conversation but the older boy’s presence was still new, still something the younger boy couldn’t quite believe. Blue eyes glanced around the car’s interior, lips curving upwards in a smile as he looked at his friend. “Its nice!” Not bothering to wait for an answer he turned to the side, nose all but pressed to the glass as he watched the dark houses and street lamps pass by. Everything looked different, more beautiful somehow … how had he never noticed the beauty? “

“Its great isn’t it?” He couldn’t hold back the grin threatening to spill forth, eyes shining with newfound freedom. “Outside, I mean. The stars and everything, yeah?” Tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek as he glanced down at his hands, fingers busy playing with the straps on his bag. “Did you really look for me?” The words were quiet, the question hesitant as if he almost didn’t want it to be asked, and Killian bit at his bottom lip, sucking it back between his teeth in awkward embarrassment.

 “ I didn’t - I didn’t believe anybody would look for me. i was - I was afraid to call you,  you know? I mean what if you had forgotten me or had moved on with your life? I was desperate though. I needed - “ His voice cracked on the phrase as he blinked, wiping at his eyes with the back of one arm. “ I needed a friend. I needed you.” 

It had been years since they had seen each other, years since he had experienced the comfort and security Guy had always given him … and it was with a relieved sigh that Killian sank back into the seat, mentally thanking whatever gods were listening for the older boy’s return. “ Thanks, by the way. For this, I mean. For everything, really. You’re like a fucking hero right now, yeah?” Color flooded his cheeks as he flushed, suddenly growing shy at the questioned confession. Desperate to change the subject lest Guy suddenly think twice about taking him in Killian grinned, shrugging his shoulders to release the tension. “ So … where’s home?”

Grateful that Killian didn’t wait for an answer to the question of the stolen Land Cruiser, Guy listened to him chatter for a moment, relieved beyond measure that he was safe and sound and there. But when the younger boy’s voice turned quiet and almost melancholy, it took less than a heartbeat for him to pull the Cruiser over into an abandoned lot, putting the SUV into park so that he could turn in his seat to meet and hold Killian’s gaze.

“They told me that you were sent to a different group home,” he began, a frown creasing his brow as he recounted the steps he’d taken to try and track down the other boy. “At Samaritan House they said you were taken to live with your father, and Mrs. Wallace gave me an address but I guess he’d already moved.”

Shifting his gaze down to where his fingers played with the stick shift, tracing the letters and numbers on the knob absently while he tried to think of what to say next, Guy shrugged, his expression uncertain as he glanced back up at Killian.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me.” Shaking his head sadly, he blinked twice to clear the sting from his vision. “I’m no hero – if I was, you wouldn’t have needed to be scared, and it wouldn’t have taken so long to find you again. But I’m here now, and I’m gonna make up for it.”

Putting the car back in drive, he pulled out of the lot, the Cruiser’s tires spinning on loose gravel before finding purchase on tarmac, pointing the car in the direction of his flat. They could talk more seriously once they were home, he decided; Killian must have been nearly starving and probably in need of a good night’s sleep, everything else could wait.

“Home is a tiny little third-floor walk-up with no view and a leaky kitchen faucet,” Guy informed him, throwing a good-natured grin toward the younger boy, his eyes bright. “But it’s mine – ours now, really. I mean…if you want to stay.”

3028 a882


One brow rose at the click of steel removed from his gauntlet and the pirate hummed in approval, all but leaning into the man who had taken it. “ Apologies, love  … but shouldn’t you at least treat me to a drink fir-?” Words cut off as he found himself suddenly sprawled on his back, lips curving upwards in a smile at the man above him. “Hello, love .. Bloody hell!” Eyes that had slipped closed in bliss suddenly opened as the pirate let out a squawk, face flushing in indignation that he could even bloody make such a sound.

“Oi!” He wiggled and squirmed trying his damned best to break free, but Guy was too strong, effectively holding him in place as easily as if Hook hadn’t been struggling at all. “ Bl-Bloody hell!” Still spluttering and cursing he curled in on himself, doing his best to protect what parts he could from the determined assault.  “Its bad form torturing a man when he can’t even bloody defend himself!” The words were quiet, shout muffled by the curve of his arm and Hook finally dared peek out from his hiding place, chest heaving from exertion. “Not… fair…you bloody oaf.” 

He grinned at the man above him, letting out an exhale as fingers moved to push damp and sweaty bangs from his forehead. One brow rose as grin turned to smirk, tongue pressing to the inside of one cheek as he cocked his head to one side where he lay. “I should pay you back for that, knight of my heart… “ He shifted slightly, pressing the other man back down on the bed to join hm as lips ghosted over the shell of his lover’s ear, fingers plucking at the laces of his trousers. “Though, I must warn you, I fear my retribution is far more painful.”

There were few things in this life that he enjoyed more than the sound of Hook’s laughter, the flushed cheeks and bright eyes that accompanied it bringing a warmth to the knight’s heart that he never expected to feel, and as he let his fingers cease their tortures he sighed happily. This was what he’d needed, what he’d been waiting for his whole life - just this.

“Oaf, am I?” Guy’s grin was remorseless, his expression one of satisfied self-indulgence as he waited for Hook’s breath to return to him once more. “All’s fair in love and tickle wars.”

Allowing himself to be maneuvered onto his back, the knight’s eyes widened slightly at the sudden shift from playfulness to the sort of seductive attention that he’d been craving from the Irishman beside him, though there was an edge of wariness to his gaze too. Hook wasn’t afraid to use Guy’s desire as a means of distracting from his more nefarious plots, that much past experience had taught him…though in the end he trusted the younger man with everything in him. 

“What exactly did you have in mind?” Arching one brow at his lover, the knight allowed the faintest edge of interest to color his words even as he shivered at the feel of Hook’s lips against his ear, a flush staining his cheeks a becoming shade of pink. “I’m open to negotiations, my pirate.”


This was what a church was for. This was worship. The thoughts almost brought a smile to his face distracted as he was, and lips parted to share newfound insight with his partner but the words gave way to a sudden gasp at the feel of warm heat surrounding him.

Bloody hell.

The pew creaked as Guy turned them upon it, the hardness of the wood suddenly pressing against’s the priest’s back a stark contrast to the softness of the other man’s hair against his buried fingers. Opening one eye the Irishman let out another moan, watching in wide eyed wonder as the shadows from the flickering candles painted an almost eerie glow around the saints watching their every move, both marble and canvassed alike.

Lightning flashed, momentarily turning the darkened sanctuary into a room of almost blinding white, leaving spots of color dancing in the younger man’s eyes upon its demise. Fingers buried farther into the other man’s hair, gripping almost savagely as he pressed himself upwards, seeking the pleasure those warm lips promised.

Killian’s groans mixed with the thunder, head thrown back as feet scrabbled at the floor, all but pushing Guy off of him in his haste to feel more, in his desperation to get closer. Panting he bit at how lower lip, hands traveling down the ridges of Guy’s spine to push in frustration against the clinging fabric of his wet shirt, finally sliding underneath to caress blissfully heated skin.

Guy.” One foot twitched, sending a nearby hymnal flying to the floor and the Irishman groaned in irritation, kicking the book even further away. Blue eyes tuned upwards, conscious of one particular gaze, and the Irishman frowned, focus staying trained on the cross even as fingers tightened evermore at the muscles along the other man’s arms

You led me here. Lightning flashed once more, the deep rumble of the following thunder all but an argument to the though and Killian grimaced, brows furrowing into a frown. Out of everything he had seen, after everything the One gazing down on them had allowed …. 

Fuck him. And fuck his sanctity too.

Turning his attention back to the task at hand he gasped for breath, one hand sliding from beneath Guy’s shirt to push at his chest as he half rose, helping to free himself from the confines of damp denim. Shaky fingers moved between them, fumbling with the button that stood between him and the other man, cursing at it under his breath.

Íosa Críost … bastard fuilteach.

Awarded his prize the Irishman pressed forward, wrapping clammy fingers around hardened flesh and drawing it out between them. The desire to put his lips around it, to claim the demon as his and his alone in front of the very One who damned them was almost too much to bear, but the priest pushed it aside, instead contenting himself with the slow roll of his hips against the older man’s own as fingers clutched and stroked teasingly.

If this is what it meant to be damned - it was a price fairly paid.

Conscious of nothing but the feel of Killian in his arms, all trembling hands and warm skin stretched out beneath him, the demon refused to give any attention to the watchful eyes of those who stood to judge him for his transgressions. They’d done nothing to warrant his regard, after all, and there was a far greater paradise to be found in the flesh beneath him than in the pages of some dusty old tome, no matter how highly regarded it might have come.

Guy stilled abruptly when he felt Killian’s fingers at his waist, the shifting and arching of the priest’s body accompanied by the sudden coolness of the air on overheated skin nearly his undoing, a low growl rumbling from deep in his chest as he allowed his head to fall forward until his brow rested against Killian’s. He drew a deep, shuddering breath, canting his hips toward the younger man in search of even more pleasure.

“Killian…” The name was a prayer of its own, a plea of supplication, begging for mercy from the only one who could grant him the blessing he sought. 

Shoving aside the thoughts that clouded his mind, the demon tugged insistently at the remaining garments that lingered between them, tearing a seam in his haste. The still-damp shirt that he’d worn was pulled off with one abrupt motion, the fabric wadded into a makeshift pillow that he placed beneath Killian’s head with infinite care, cushioning the Irishman from the hard wooden pew as best he could.

He paused then, breathless with want and aching to claim what was his, hazy blue eyes meeting the younger man’s gaze as he carefully settled his weight above Killian, the sharp ache of desire intensified by the pressure of the Irishman’s body against his. Giving his hips a subtle twist, a quiet gasp escaped him.

“I want you.” Breathless, he bent his head and nipped at the pulse where it beat frantically beneath the hollow of Killian’s throat, tongue lapping at the skin while one hand reached down to grasp the priest’s hip, drawing one lean thigh up to rest at the demon’s waist. “I need you, love…”

i cannot believe


Fair warning: the Knight and his Pirate are both in something
of a mooooood tonight. If a post says NSFW…


‘Nuff said.

January 27 2018

3048 840e 500


@twisted-but-pretty  ‘d for emma !

             i know you’re retired ——sorta.   

not entirely, but from the job she’s interested he is, or so she’s heard. emma’s not so stupid to be oblivious to his past dealings with regina, and at the moment she could use someone who’s not afraid of doing thing a little under the law. she sets down two beers ( a bribe, though she’s not even sure he drinks the stuff ) and takes a seat across from him.  

           but i was hoping you might be interested in coming out of retirement
                                   ——for just one job ?   

It was a life he’d set aside long ago: the hired thug, the henchman who did the dirty work so the nobility kept their hands clean…it wasn’t a place to which he wanted to return, but sometimes exceptions needed to be made. And looking at the woman seated across from him, this was clearly going to be one of those circumstances. 

Accepting the beer with a slow nod, he took a sip and studied her features for a long moment, assessing her mood and the gravity of her situation. There were whispers around town, mutterings that he’d largely ignored, but the former knight was neither blind nor a complete simpleton and putting two and two together took very little effort.

“As long as it doesn’t put anyone I care about at risk,” he murmured, gaze shifting to rest upon the ring that adorned his left hand, his thoughts flickering briefly to the man waiting at home for him before he met her eyes once more. 

“What’s the job?”


One brow rose upwards at the all but whispered words, fingers tracing gentle patterns along the sweat dampened skin of the younger man’s chest. Wont I? Pushing such thoughts aside the Irishman leant forward, flicking his tongue over one tight nub and moving to let his fangs brush against the other.

Wrestling with his inner voice that screamed to take the vampire growled low in his throat, one hand tweaking sensitive skin even as the other pinned Guy’s wrists above his head; lips curving upwards in a reassuring smile even as blue eyes glinted dangerously. The light seeping throughout the Watcher’s curtains was dim, almost non existent, but the setting of the fiery sun outside bathed the room in an orange glow, flickering shadows across the pale expense of Guy’s skin.

Slowly, lest he rush their time together, Killian shifted, purring low in his throat as stubbled skin nuzzled into the crook of the other man’s neck. “Tell me something, love … “ The words trailed off in a low hum, teeth scraping against the curve of Guy’s throat and breath coming out in a low chuckle as the younger man squirmed in his grip. “ … what if I want to hurt you?” One brow quirked in inquiry as the vampire leant back, free hand pinching the side of Guy’s hip in emphasis to the question and lips curving backwards into a grin that exposed fangs. “Would you really have the will to stop me?”

It was torture, the sweetest kind of torture imaginable, laying skin against skin with Killian while the vampire teased and tormented him for what felt like hours…every second ticking past brought yet another surge of pleasure so intense it made him ache. He’d given himself over to the immortal long ago, offering himself almost in supplication, spread out before the Irishman like some sort of pagan sacrifice to his very own god, and Killian had never once made him regret it. 

He didn’t expect that to change now. 

Tipping his head back with a shuddering sigh, the Watcher arched up against the cool skin of his lover, hands pinned above his head rendering him helpless. He’d meant his earlier statement: there was nothing Killian could do to hurt him, even should the vampire decide to turn him it would not be the violation that one would have thought. To the contrary, it would be an answer to the prayer he’d been whispering to the heavens since he’d fallen in love with Killian.

“You mistake me,” Guy whispered, breath hissing between his teeth at the sharp sting of the pinch at his flank, lashes fluttering closed at the pleasure-pain. “You may try to hurt me…”

He paused, a low sound that was equal parts growl and purr escaping him at the feel of Killian’s fangs scraping against delicate skin, one leg moving of its own accord to twine around the vampire’s thigh, tugging him closer until it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. 

“You may try,” Guy began again, licking his lips to savor the taste of the other man’s kiss once they had parted, heart pounding in his chest mercilessly as he tried to raise himself toward Killian once more. “But I may like it.

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