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binz - Re: Alternate Realities Collide!- luciazephyr - Re: Alternate Realities Collide!
- binz - Re: Alternate Realities Collide!
- (Anonymous) - Re: Fill (5/?)
- (Anonymous) - Chapter One: New Arrival in Naperville
- samjohnsson - Re: Chapter One: New Arrival in Naperville
- (Anonymous) - Re: Fill (5/?)
- (Anonymous) - OP Re: Fill: Playing for the Crowd 1/?
- (Anonymous) - Re: Filled Part 2 (of 3 or 4 ish)
- (Anonymous) - OP
- (Anonymous) - Re: Chapter One: New Arrival in Naperville
- (Anonymous) - Re: Filled Part 2 (of 3 or 4 ish)
- cathrinerose - Re: Alternate Realities Collide!
- (Anonymous) - zombies again
- temis_ookami - Re: zombies again
- (Anonymous) - shuffle
- (Anonymous) - Maggie's guardian
- (Anonymous) - Fight or Flight 2/
- (Anonymous) - Re: Fight or Flight 2/
- samjohnsson - Re: Fight or Flight 2/
- (Anonymous) - Colbert Report
- (Anonymous) - Re: Fight or Flight 2/
- (Anonymous) - Fill: What Happens In Midgard 1/4
- (Anonymous) - Fill: What Happens In Midgard 2/4
- (Anonymous) - Fill: What Happens In Midgard 3/4
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Re: Alternate Realities Collide!
Date: 2011-02-26 07:21 am (UTC)eta: Actually, iirc, the first real conversation
Re: Alternate Realities Collide!
Date: 2011-02-26 07:25 am (UTC)Re: Alternate Realities Collide!
Date: 2011-02-26 07:28 am (UTC)Re: Fill (5/?)
Date: 2011-02-26 08:25 am (UTC)Chapter One: New Arrival in Naperville
Date: 2011-02-26 08:42 am (UTC)+
It has always been believed that a man of power and influence wants only a spouse to complete his happiness. In less cosmopolitan times, that would have meant a wife, someone to bear him children - these days, anything goes.
News traveled fast in the fashionable circles of Naperville. The scion of a successful furniture and interior decorating company was considering purchasing a residence, meaning he would settle his eligible bachelor self near all the unwed heiresses in the area. Naturally this meant mothers vying for their own daughters, wanting the new wealthy neighbor to cement business alliances or just their daughter’s future financial stability.
Lea Vadderung read the society pages with the keen eye of a gossip, and was kept well-informed by her network of spies. So when the fellow did settle on a house, a charming estate called Netherfield, she smiled a nasty, greedy smile and started harassing her husband to get the whole family invited to meet this Mr. Carpenter.
Donar tolerated his wife more than he loved her. They had married for power, and it showed. He loved his daughter and his four adopted children, but he restricted his exposure to his wife to the smallest possible doses.
Which was why he didn’t bother to tell her more than a day in advance that he’d visited Michael Carpenter already, and invited the man to dinner.
“What? But the girls need better dresses for that and - ”
“The girls have plenty of fine dresses,” Donar rolled his eye. “And Harry has a collection of suits he doesn’t wear already. I’m sure they will not fail to impress Mr. Carpenter.”
“Charity hasn’t had her hair dressed in ages, and Sigrun needs new cosmetics - ”
“Sigrun hates cosmetics. She’s also allergic to them,” Harry interrupted.
“I can speak for myself,” Sigrun rolled her own eyes - the spitting image of her father, except even her height, imposing for a woman, couldn’t hope to match his. Only Harry came close. “Though brother is correct.”
“I can take care of my own hair, mama, don’t worry,” Charity said, unfailingly polite as ever.
“Harry, Charity, Sigrun, please don’t talk about magic in front of Mr. Carpenter,” she said firmly.
Susan and Karrin exchanged disgusted looks.
“We won’t talk about it either, mama,” Karrin scowled.
“Oh, it’s not like I was trying to rub it in,” Lea huffed. “I just thought you two might have more sense in that, and less inclination to discuss esoteric wizards.”
“I think I have to work tomorrow evening anyway,” Susan said.
“Does a student paper really require so much of your time, dear?” Lea asked fretfully.
“I’m one of the editors, mama,” Susan said patiently, having explained this hundreds of times.
“I have aikido practice,” Karrin shrugged.
“Really, Karrin, you could try and take an interest in your financial security!” Leas frowned.
“I don’t give a damn about financial security as long as the sex is good,” she said bluntly. Donar laughed. Harry covered his ears. “Karrin, I know your practices don’t start until eight. You can come to dinner first.”
She sighed. “Yes, mama.”
“Susan, I suppose, is excused. The rest of you had better be there.”
Harry uncovered his ears.
+
Michael Carpenter spoke amiably with Donar while waiting for the man’s children to arrive for dinner. Harry escorted Charity down the stairs at Lea’s insistence. Charity was not as small as Karrin or as fine-boned as Susan, but putting her next to Harry made her seem exceedingly delicate and graceful.
Whether it was the little trick or simply Charity’s beauty and charm, Harry saw Michael’s expression transform from curiosity to adulation.
“Your oldest daughter and...her husband, I assume?” Michael said cautiously. Charity laughed.
“Hardly. This is my little brother, Harry.” She kissed Harry’s cheek. He rolled his eyes, but noticed Michael get excited again.
“Charity, this is Mr. Carpenter,” Donar said. “Most of my children are completely unrelated to each other, but Charity pestered me for years to find her biological brother.”
“Please, papa, the story is so tiresome,” Charity sighed. “I had a feeling he was in trouble. And I was right, wasn’t I?”
Harry smiled at her. Charity had saved his life by making Donar look: the wizard who took him in was sucking him dry of power.
“I’m glad you did,” Donar said. “I got a fine son in the bargain.”
Michael looked at Harry, and then looked up to find his face. “A pleasure to meet you,” he said, nodding.
“Likewise,” Harry said, pulling at the cuffs of his shirt. “I’d better fetch the rest,” he said, mostly to give Charity and Michael a chance to talk. He knew by the way his sister moved closer, pupils dilated, that Charity was interested.
“And I should find my wife,” Donar said cheerfully, perfectly content to leave his oldest daughter to get to know a perfect stranger, alone. The Vadderung men scampered up the stairs, still just able to make out the beginnings of a promising conversation between Charity and Michael.
Harry escorted Sigrun and Karrin downstairs, one on either arm. Michael and Charity had already moved into a parlor, chatting easily.
Karrin elbowed him and grinned. He nodded, pretty sure they had the same thought: steady, intelligent Michael complemented their fiery but kind sister perfectly.
Michael left the Vadderung mansion abuzz with good feeling toward him. Lea felt sure her oldest would marry soon, and to a fine young man of good standing and no small amount of wealth. Life was good.
Michael had to return to Chicago on business, but no one thought too much of this. He had purchased a sizable home; he’d be back.
They had no idea he’d come back with a small entourage. The party kept to themselves for a few days before descending as one on the local country club.
Donar didn’t go to those wretched things now that his wife had children to drag along instead. His only use for the country club was the golf course, anyway. Harry’s sisters dragged him on whether he liked it or not, as a family apology for badly skewing the male-female ratio. They even forced him to dance, to his extreme frustration.
“It won’t be that bad,” Charity laughed, fixing his tie. “Maybe you’ll find some nice girl who you don’t mind dancing with.”
“Unless she’s six feet tall at least, I’m not sure that’s possible. You have no idea how awkward it is dancing with a partner more than a foot shorter than you.”
“There are tall women in this world,” she prodded his shoulder.
“I didn’t say being tall was a requirement for me liking a girl - just for me liking to dance with her. Not all women like dancing, anyway.”
She gave him a pitying look. “Most women who say that just haven’t found a partner who doesn’t step on her toes.”
“And I step on my partner’s toes pretty much every third dance.”
“At least you’re getting better,” she said sweetly. “It used to be every dance.”
He resigned himself to being forced to step on some poor girl’s toes. Maybe Michael’s guests would be tall - he’d never seen a girl in Naperville who was tall enough to dance comfortably with. The only person he’d ever been able to actually fake having some grace with was the 6’5” man who’d taught him how to waltz and foxtrot, who spent most of the time laughing that usually he was taller even when he was the “girl.”
That had been a good day of dancing. Most of the girls at these parties were too stiff to enjoy themselves, anyway, or at least to enjoy themselves with him - his rough background and his magical power were both well known in these circles.
The driver conveyed them all to the club and Harry escorted Charity and his mother indoors. His younger sisters could take care of themselves. He palmed Charity off to Michael with no regrets, and she barely even heard Harry’s “have fun.”
His best friend Justine snagged the first dance, talking eagerly about Michael’s “plus four.”
“Two of his sisters, one married and bringing also her husband - there she is, her husband’s the large one sulking in the chairs. He hates dancing. And one man...where did he go? His name is Marcone, I believe. He’s a very powerful businessman in Chicago, so of course the whole room has decided they or a daughter or niece of theirs will become his wife.”
“Marcone? I feel like I’ve heard the name before,” Harry said thoughtfully.
“That’s him,” she nodded after he spun her around. “By the buffet table, with Michael. Michael seems very fond of Charity, do you think they’ll start dating?”
“If Lea gets her way, they’ll be married in a year. I’m not sure Charity would disagree. They do seem well-suited to each other, and she’s absolutely smitten.”
Justine’s toes escaped from him unscathed. He was accosted before he could sit and forced to dance again, with a much less pleasant individual: Bianca St. Clair. She tried to talk, he tried to ignore her as best he could.
He escaped for the excuse of food, greeting Michael cheerfully. “Who’s your friend?” he nodded to Marcone.
“John, this is Harry, Charity’s younger brother. Harry, this John Marcone, an old friend of mine.”
Harry offered his hand, which John shook, his smile empty. Harry was careful not to meet his money-green eyes, knowing a soulgaze would give away his power.
“Charity is a lovely girl,” John said, the words fulsome but his tone flat.
“She is,” Harry said seriously. “She’s a much better person than I am, to be sure.”
John focused on him with an intensity that caught Harry off guard. “Humility, from this crowd? Perhaps Naperville isn’t completely hopeless,” he said, derisive.
Harry had often felt that Naperville, especially the country club crowd, was rude and pretentious. Most of them disliked him except when they wanted to dance (when only the men disliked him). But Marcone was from Chicago. He didn’t know them.
“Maybe if you actually spoke to them instead of hiding behind the punch bowl they’d make a better impression,” he said, temper flaring.
Michael put a hand on both of their shoulders. “Naperville seems like a fine town, Harry. John just loves Chicago best of anywhere in the world.”
“What part do you live in?” Harry asked, reining in his ire.
“Have you ever been anywhere except downtown?” John said, cold and flat again.
“I was raised in Chicago for a few years,” he shrugged. “I liked the place, but I wasn’t a fan of my guardian.”
John considered him again. “I live in the Gold Coast. But I grew up in the projects.”
Harry grinned. “That’s kinda funny. My first couple of foster homes were in the projects, and my last before Donar adopted me was in the Gold Coast.”
“Oh? Who was your last carer?”
Harry toed the floor, smile vanishing. “No one important. He died when I was sixteen, anyway.”
“I’m sorry,” John said, and it was more sincere and thoughtful than anything else he’d done so far.
Harry shrugged. “Like I said, I wasn’t a fan of him.”
Michael made some gesture, and John sighed.
“Would you like to dance, Harry?”
“Yeah - wait, what?” but John had already taken his hand and was steering him toward the floor. Putting up too much of a fight would attract attention. “Wait, are you seriously going to lead?” he asked, confused.
“You have more experience leading, I’m sure. Besides, you’re taller,” John shrugged. “My masculinity won’t be hurt if you lead.” The challenge being, ‘Would yours?’
People were already pointing and staring. “Are you trying to prove a point or something?” Harry asked suspiciously.
“Yes. Chiefly, that the wealthy are hidebound and afraid of change, and that Naperville is particularly prejudiced, where in Chicago two men dancing would be largely unremarkable. Is it working?”
“No,” Harry said sullenly, because it was. They danced, John staying very close and murmuring softly about what he did in Chicago, teasing an answer out of Harry sometimes, about Harry’s job for his father. He didn’t step on John’s toes even once, and just like with his male teacher, found it much easier to manage with a partner closer to his height.
“Where did you go to college?” John asked. Harry shrugged.
“DePaul. I double-majored in piano and education.”
“Why not teach, then? Why work for your father?”
Harry paused. “I love my father very much. As far as I’m concerned, he and Charity saved my life when they brought me into the family. Papa said I’d always have a home with him, and I admit I’m feeling reluctant to leave. If I was in a relationship, it would be different, or even if I’d had a more traditional childhood, I think. But now that I have a home and a family, I don’t want to let them out of my sight.”
“You really think you’d be different in a relationship?”
“You clearly don’t have sisters,” Harry smirked. “I brought a girl home from DePaul once and she ran screaming by the time Karrin was done with her. And Karrin was only fourteen at the time. The rest were no better, and they’ve gotten worse in the intervening years. Most of my relationships don’t make it past the first encounter with my family.”
“Are they that overprotective of you? I thought that was an older brother’s job.”
“Oh, don’t worry - I’m just as bad. But if you look at it one way, I’m kind of the baby of the family. Charity was adopted as a baby, when Mama and Papa thought they couldn’t have children. Sigrun is of course Papa’s biological daughter, but he adopted Karrin when her father was killed in the line of duty; Mr. Murphy saved Papa’s life once and they stayed in touch. And Susan was a few years old when she was abandoned, no one’s sure why. It’s speculated that they were worried they’d be deported, but Susan’s birth certificate says she’s American, so she stayed. My papa was the one who found her, so he was the one she wanted to stay with, and it’s hard to tell Susan ‘no.’”
“So you were the last addition,” John nodded.
“And I might’ve been tall for sixteen, but I was underfed and they could all tell. They spent a lot of time taking care of me, teaching me things. Karrin was only six, but she convinced me to come to her aikido classes, and I stuck with that for a few years. What about your family?”
John looked away. “My parents were not well-off, but they cared about me. My father died in prison when I was fourteen, and my mother wasted away for a few more years before dying when I was twenty. I have two sisters, both much younger. I got a compassionate discharge from the military after Mother died, so I could take care of Amanda and Ivy.”
“What are they like?”
He shrugged. “Amanda is...shy. Kind, too, and very gregarious with those she knows well. Ivy is precocious: extremely intelligent, with a photographic memory, but her very adult vocabulary occasionally makes her seem unapproachable to her peers. She always desires their society, but they add little to hers and are painfully overaware of that.”
Re: Chapter One: New Arrival in Naperville
Date: 2011-02-26 09:03 am (UTC)Re: Fill (5/?)
Date: 2011-02-26 09:25 am (UTC)OP Re: Fill: Playing for the Crowd 1/?
Date: 2011-02-26 09:30 am (UTC)though I have to disagree with you about bagels, which are a tasty treat all on their own. but that's okay, this world has enough room for all of us, including the bagel infidels. ;)
Re: Filled Part 2 (of 3 or 4 ish)
Date: 2011-02-26 10:09 am (UTC)OP
Date: 2011-02-26 11:13 am (UTC)Re: Chapter One: New Arrival in Naperville
Date: 2011-02-26 12:36 pm (UTC)Re: Filled Part 2 (of 3 or 4 ish)
Date: 2011-02-26 01:18 pm (UTC)Re: Alternate Realities Collide!
Date: 2011-02-26 01:36 pm (UTC)Also just had a mental image of John and Marcone talking, taking it all quite well and referencing the Trousers of Time.
Dear God stop me before I actually write this. It's going to explode like my Canon!Harry meets Genderswap!Harry plot bunny.
zombies again
Date: 2011-02-26 02:33 pm (UTC)Harry and John team up to defend the city.
The Outfit gets a crash course in fighting the undead. Also, shit the rumors about the boss having a wizard boyfriend is real. zomg this is really the apocalypse! Is it because we voted Rahm for mayor? Why is Mr. Hendricks not panicking? Oh wait, he's used to this.
Re: zombies again
Date: 2011-02-26 02:37 pm (UTC)shuffle
Date: 2011-02-26 02:38 pm (UTC)Or switch them around, just as long as either Hendricks or Gard ends up not working for Marcone, and Harry or Murphy ends up working for him.
Can be AU.
Maggie's guardian
Date: 2011-02-26 02:44 pm (UTC)She learns about how he lived, what he was like as a person, through her new guardian, and through the new people she meets, all of whom knew her father the way she never got to.
Past Marcone/Dresden is optional.
Fight or Flight 2/
Date: 2011-02-26 03:03 pm (UTC)I slept badly. I do a lot anyway, but mostly for normal reasons-- bad dreams, woken up by something pulling on a leyline, sudden explosions, that sort of thing. This time, I just had trouble staying asleep. At one point, I think I was woken up by the sound of my own breathing, which is practically the definition of unfair.
Fortunately, I had access to coffee in amounts undreamed of when I was actually a teenager, so that helped. I ordered a couple of pizzas for breakfast and settled down with Bob to go over what happened and how we could fix it.
The pizzas came, the pizzas went, and at least temporarily full, I meditated for a couple of hours, trying to feel for the edges of my magic and get it back into place.
I debated phoning Molly to tell her lessons had been cancelled for the foreseeable, but after two hours sitting still, I needed to get outside, so I drove to the Carpenters.
I rang the bell and pushed my way past Michael when he opened it. "Yeah, I know, very funny, gosh Harry, you were skinny as a teenager. Any jokes about spots, puberty or my height will not be appreciated."
"Harry?" Michael said.
I stopped in the hallway and turned around. "Right. I probably should have said that first. It's me, there was a spell that went wrong. Or went right, I'm not really sure, and I'm temporarily, very temporarily," I emphasized, "in the body of a teenager. And no jokes about that either."
"Harry, my oldest is sixteen. Jokes about that really aren't funny when you've got kids that are still in their teens," Michael said. He looked at me and shook his head. "Didin't you eat at all when you were--"
"All the time!" I said, angry. "Seriously, everyone keeps acting like I was starving myself so I could fit into size zero jeans! I ate anything and everything, all the time! It just never stuck!" And from Michael's expression, I was overreacting again, which didn't make me feel any calmer. I took a few deep breaths anyway. "This just feels pretty strange," I said as an apology.
He nodded and then smiled. "Oh, Molly's going to get a kick out of this," he said.
Molly did. So did the rest of the kids, but Molly seemed to think that this made me younger than her and refused to listen when I said that mentally, I was still an elder and entitled of respect, and physically, I was pretty sure I was at least seventeen. Probably. They weren't the only ones that seemed to forget I wasn't actually a kid. Michael obviously caught himself telling me off a couple times, and Charity... well, I was never going to be one of Charity's favourite people, but she kept looking at me and frowning. Something about it was making her unhappy, but she didn't seem angry at me, so I tried to ignore it and go back to showing the kids card-tricks.
I was setting up the pack for one of the more complicated ones -you've got to get them in the right order for it to work- when Charity called out that dinner was ready. I figured that was my cue to leave, so I started to get my stuff together and bumped into Charity in the hallway.
This is the thing. It's not that I've never noticed before that Charity has, you know, a nice set. They're there, I've seen them, but I've never actually thought about them, because they belong to Charity, and Charity is married to Michael and-- well, they're so off-limits, I couldn't get to them through the Neverwhere.
Which is why the fact that I had to stop myself from staring at them now was really, really disturbing. I had to make myself look only at her face, not even her neck, because-- well, below that was dangerous, and not something I should be looking at or even thinking about, and I especially shouldn't be thinking about the fact that I could tell she was wearing a white bra because I could see the outline of it through her T-shirt, where it was a more opaque shade of white.
I could feel my face turning hot and I knew, I just knew, that she knew exactly what I'd trying and failing not to think about and it had confirmed every suspicion she'd ever had about me. "I'm sorry!"
"For what?" She said, frowning.
Maybe she hadn't figured it out? I bit my tongue before I blurted anything out. "Just generally sorry?" I said, hoping that would work. Oh, wait, I had an answer. "For coming over here unexpectedly," I said. Yeah, that made sense, that was polite. "And not calling first," I added, just to be safe.
"Harry," Charity said, but she didn't follow it up with anything.
"What?" I said, then ducked my head. "I mean, pardon?" And then I straightened up, because maybe I looked sixteen right now, but that didn't mean I was, and even I had been, Charity wasn't my guardian or anything.
She shook her head and frowned a little. I looked at Michael to see if this made any sense to him either, but he just shrugged a little. "Nothing," she said. "We're going to have dinner. If you help with the washing up afterwards, you can stay for it."
"Really?" I said, brightening up. "You might regret that. You've got no idea how much I ate when I was this age."
"I can guess," she said, but she pushed me at the table.
After dinner and washing up, it was pretty late and Michael offered me the spare room. Part of me wanted to go back to my own place, but
I felt my shields break and woke up, reaching around for something to throw.
"It's me!" I blinked and Molly was there, standing a few feet away from the bed. I put down the clock radio.
"Molly? Why are you..." I looked around. The lights had gone, but Molly had a nice little glowing sphere hovering in the air and I could see Michael and Charity standing in the doorway.
"Harry!" Molly said. She was looking at me, wide-eyed and terrified. "You were-- Harry, you were screaming," she said. "And I couldn't get to you because you had your shields up in your sleep. I had to break them."
"I-- nightmare," I said. "I get them sometimes."
"Well so do I, but I don't make fucking shields in my sleep!"
"Molly, language," Michael and Charity said together, automatically. I couldn't read their expressions and I wondered what they'd heard, if I'd said anything I shouldn't have.
"It was just a bad dream," I said, pulling the covers up around me. "I'm sorry I woke you all up." I shivered, partly left-over adrenaline from the dream, partly the shock of having my shields broken. I was kind of proud that Molly was able to, but it was still disconcerting to feel it. I probably wouldn't be able to bring them back up for a few hours at least.
"Harry..." Michael started to say, then Charity put her hand on his arm and they had one of those silent conversations couples have.
"You didn't need to wake me up," I said. "I never did any real damage when I was asleep." Just the shields up, and once or twice, I'd woken to feel fire on the edges of my awareness, but it had never actually lit.
"Harry, you were screaming," Molly said, softer than before. "And..." she rubbed one of her upper arms. "You were whimpering too, sometimes. What--" she bit off the question.
"I don't remember," I said. "Just dreams." She looked pretty freaked out still, so I gave her a reassuring smile and hoped it worked better than it usually did. "It used to happen a lot, before I got better at self-control. And better at figuring out when I was dreaming."
She smiled back. It wasn't the most convincing thing I'd ever seen, but I was willing to let it go. "So is that something I've got to look forward to as well?"
I glanced back at Michael and Charity and made a reassuring gesture. "No, probably not." I tried to think about how Eb had described it, the first time it happened at his. "It's just force of habit, sort of? I'm used to-- I used to have my shields prepped a lot without realizing it. I didn't always know what my magic was doing, but you're a lot better than I was at that."
Eb had said he was amazed I hadn't burnt out long before the Council got me, but I still thought he was exaggerating.
"I'm probably not going to get back to sleep," I said. "I think I'll just head back."
"It's pitch black out there," Charity said. "You're not leaving the house now."
I felt a buzz of irritation and tried to push it down. "Really not a kid, Charity. I can go back to my own house if I want to."
She opened her mouth, but Michael got there first. "We're not saying you are, but it's late enough, you might as well stay until breakfast."
I wanted to. Aside from everything else, all I had left back at mine was the remaining slice of pizza-- no, I'd eaten that in the car coming here. But more than that, more than anything, I wanted to be back in my own apartment. I could feel the psychic scratches from where Molly had broken my shields-- not painful, but there-- and I wanted to be within my own walls and wards.
I kicked off the blanket and Michael sighed. "Fine, just... call us when you get there."
Re: Fight or Flight 2/
Date: 2011-02-26 03:14 pm (UTC)Re: Fight or Flight 2/
Date: 2011-02-26 04:28 pm (UTC)\o/
Colbert Report
Date: 2011-02-26 04:43 pm (UTC)Or Marcone.
Bonus if both appear.
Double bonus if Rahm Emmanuel is somehow included. :P
Or other supernatural creatures (not that Rahm is one... or is he?)
Re: Fight or Flight 2/
Date: 2011-02-26 04:54 pm (UTC)Fill: What Happens In Midgard 1/4
Date: 2011-02-26 05:03 pm (UTC)Explicit, plotless sequel to Goodnight and Big Balls, but should be able to stand alone.
http://scribe-protra.livejournal.com/215580.html?thread=3247644#t3247644
-----
If you’d have asked me, I’d never have pegged the Queen of Air and Darkness for the pen-pal type. But the letter I had stuffed into the inside pocket of my jacket-- the eleventh in seven weeks-- seemed to beg otherwise. “H&M,” I said, waving casually to the receptionists, each watching me with half-tilted heads and bright eyes. “Keeping it real, girls?”
H tipped her head the other way and then back, and M scratched distractedly through the finish on her desk.
“I should be passing by Mardi Gras in a few days,” I continued on, blithely. We’re building a good relationship. I’m sure of it. “Want me to bring you back some beads? Token of our budding friendship?” I smiled widely. “I’ll get them the traditional way and everything.”
That was the trick; no obligation of debt, on my part or theirs. H settled down in her seat, shoulders fluttering under her suit jacket; M drew her hand back from destroying the office furniture and pressed a button, indicated the office.
“Let me know if you have any color requests,” I shot over my shoulder, and disappeared through the door.
Nothing in the literature had prepared me for the All Father being of the correspondence persuasion either, but just as many missives had been returned to my Queen as I’d delivered, and I couldn’t say I minded. The literature had prepared me for his more handsy persuasion, although that he’d have any interest in my notable lack-of-curves and creamy white thighs had been more of a surprise.
“Greetings to the All Father, known as Wodin, called Donar Vadderung, from my most gracious Queen, she of the Unseelie Court, of all Winter beauty and darkness, called Mab. I bring you her tidings; she bids me to your service for the time of our appointment, and hopes I find you well.” I pulled the rolled-up scroll from my pocket as I recited the greeting, presenting it with a flourish-- not quite suppressing the cheeky edge of my smile. So I was looking forward to this; it’s not like it made me a bad person. I enjoy the perqs of my job when and where they come.
Ahem.
Vadderung leaned comfortably back in the large chair behind his large desk, one blue eye sparkling. “Punctual as always, Knight of Winter,” he said, voice deep and, well, large, like a summer storm rumbling on the horizon.
There was a theme around Vadderung: he was giant. Not literally; I’d met giants. But, he was massive. Immense. Enormous. Standing, I had to look up to meet his gaze. Way, way up. He had a good foot on me-- and when you’re almost seven feet tall, that’s saying a lot-- and something about him was just bigger. The breadth of his shoulders, his chest, all of his proportions. I needed both my hands to get a good grip around one of his biceps; I needed my whole arm to wrap around one of his thighs.
“That’s me,” I said cheerfully. “Mister-Right-on-time.” And I wasn’t stupid enough to insult a actual god-- okay, correction. I wasn’t stupid enough to accidentally insult an actual god or piss off Mab by showing up late when I knew better and could avoid it. Plus, it was kind of a booty call; I was keeping it polite. It had taken a while for me to get there-- in general, not in particular-- but I liked these visits with the Vadderung.
“Then I bid you approach, Knight Dresden; bring me your Queen’s greetings.” He pushed back in his king-sized chair to let me sneak in between him and the desk. I held out the scroll again-- and with one easy movement, he lifted me from the floor onto his lap, saying hello with a thorough, bristly kiss.
I gave my own back, mmm-ing when he sucked at my top lip, tugged at his with my teeth, used a hand around his neck to leverage myself up for a better angle of attack. I could feel the raw chafing around my mouth from his beard when I finally broke away, panting, and happily traced that line of thought to how that burn would feel on my belly, my thighs, my back, my ass.
“And what does your Queen send to me today, little Knight?” Vadderung asked, swinging me around to sit with my back to his chest, a promise of pressure under my ass, and I wiggled against it, earning myself a chuckle and swat on the thigh.
“I’m afraid I can’t say, my lord Vadderung. I was instructed only to deliver the message, not on its contents.”
“Then you must exercise your patience,” he said, popping the wax seal and unrolling the scroll above my head. I don’t think I was imagining the fondness in his voice, and I definitely wasn’t imagining the hand--at least half again the size of mine-- that came down to rub gentle circles on my thighs and stomach while he read.
I let myself relax, slumping against his big chest-- Stars, you could fit at least four of me side-by-side in front of him, and still not see us from behind-- letting my eyes drift shut, enjoying the attention and casual touch. I get touched a lot more than I used to, these days (well, I get more physical contact in general these days, ifyouknowwhatImean) but this absent-minded, freely-given affection was different than the outright seductions. It was nice, in a no-strings-attached sort of way. It was about touching me because-- I think-- he liked me, and not just because he liked to get in my pants.
“Have I put you to sleep, Harry?” Vadderung’s deep voice rumbled just outside my ear, making me tense up and shiver in a good way, a jolt of all-powerful thunder right to the places that counted. His lips trailed to the spot behind my ear and I rolled my neck, trying to give him more access. “How short a tale you would give me to send back to your Queen.” That was me: Dear Penthouse star of the all-powerful, divine-forces subscriber list.
I twisted around to kiss him, and one of his big hands slid between my thighs, teasing up my inseam. He reached across me and put the paper on his desk, and I had just a moment’s warning before his other hand came down between my legs too, spreading them wide. I let out a very manly squeak, balance tipping, and slid halfway down his lap before he swung me over to splay across his lap horizontally. I burst out laughing and wiggled my ass at him, up and on display where I bent over his legs.
“You are in a pleasing mood today, little one,” he told me, amused. He rubbed two fingers hard between my ass and my balls, lots of pressure and little purchase, the denim of my jeans in the way, and my hips rolled up without thought, trying to get closer, my back curving out.
“Nn. Is that an observation or a request?” I managed, once the stars faded from behind my eyes.
“It can’t be both?” I could hear his grin as he shifted his fingers, giving my balls a friendly little jiggle-- and caught me off-guard with a sharp smack. He did it again and my eyes crossed.
“Woah, woah, no horseplay on the desk!” I scolded him, wide eyes, face innocent. “I’ll get in trouble if Mab finds out I ruined her letter.”
He chuckled. “Then I should take you somewhere a little more sturdy.” He scooped me off his lap and hefted me lightly into his arms, lifting me easily.
I laughed and restrained the urge to kick my feet as he carried me through the halls, the gleaming corporate theme giving way to something a little more rough and wooden, deep in the back of the building where the mortal realm and the Nevernever bled together. He pushed his bedroom door open and swung me to the ground, righting me and spinning me to face the bed: big, solid, strong. About eight miles wide and long enough that not even the Vadderung’s feet were in danger of hanging off the end. My grin grew.
There was another body in the bed-- no shocker, I’m not delusional enough to think that I’m the only mortal pie the Vadderung has his fingers in (and does he ever have talented fingers). I don’t get hurt about it, and once or twice I’ve shared a threesome or moresome with him and his other, ahem, guests.
This one looked promising-- a man, a little padded but not so much that you couldn’t make out the defined, well-used muscles. He had that slack-limbed fucked-out look that the Vadderung hands out like a party favor-- legs splayed and tangled in the blanket, muscular arm thrown over his face. I let my eyes roadtrip from the shadowed hollow of his clavicle down over firm pectorals, slightly rounded stomach, meaty thighs, sturdy calves, big, well-maintained feet. His cock was nestled in a thatch of gunmetal gray hair, a few shades darker than the mostly-salt and slightly-pepper hair on his head, peeping out from under his arm.
“Enjoying the decoration?” A hand the size of a catcher’s mitt caressed my entire ass.
I was going to sprain something if I couldn’t stop grinning. “Wondering if the decoration wanted to join in, or if we should be vewy vewy quiet.”
“He works too hard. But perhaps a sweet dream to send him back to sleep-- you should go ask him,” Vadderung said with a chuckle, as deep and thrilling as distant thunder.
I nodded seriously, toed off my boots, and strolled over to the bed, crawling up to lay a hand on the man’s arm. “Hey,” I murmured, stroking down to his side. “I’m the Vadderung’s two o'clock. Should we leave you to your beauty sleep or do you want to join in?”
“Mm.” A tremor of consciousness slid down the length of his body, back arching, hips rolling, legs stretching to their full length, toes curling as the last few inches of him woke up. “Since you ask so nicely.” He lifted his arm off of his face and caught the back of my neck in one fluid movement, drawing me in for a slow, loose-mouthed kiss. He was a good kisser, mouth plaint and warm, the promise of strength beneath, just waiting for him to wake up and use it. I kissed back, matching my speed to his, using my lips to their advantage, gentle, soft.
Then we rolled over into better light, and mostly disentangled, and really saw each other for the first time.
“...motherfuck,” said John Marcone, as horrified as I’ve ever seen him.
Fill: What Happens In Midgard 2/4
Date: 2011-02-26 05:04 pm (UTC)We shoved apart in a flurry of motion-- his hand flying off my neck liked he’d been burned, me trying to dislodge the arm that had wedged under him, which, with his helpful shove, dropped me off the bed onto my ass. He surged off the bed on the other side, snarling something about his pants.
“You could have warned me,” I snapped, still on the ground, looking up at Vadderung--who was glaring at us. Oops. My mind raced. Usually I know why I’ve ticked people off, but I was drawing a blank. I thought, if anything, he’d have thought it was funny-- that he’d been playing a trick on two unaware mortals, maybe to warn me off for getting so sure, so comfortable in his affections, maybe just for godly shits and giggles.
“I thought you both knew better than to bring petty disputes into my bedchambers,” he rumbled. Distant, pissed off thunder.
“But it’s--”
“It’s the damned wizard,” John snapped, but a warning look from Vadderung froze him, sheepish, one leg in and one leg out of his dress slacks.
“The squabbles of your fiefdom have no place here,” he glowered.
Oh. He hadn’t thought it would be funny for John and I to swat at each other like angry cats. He’d thought we were going to roll with it. And we’d just killed his mood.
“I hadn’t realized that the terms of our... agreement meant performing with any partner you chose, despite my objections.” Marcone’s voice was tight and hard. “Should I undress?”
“Don’t be an ass, Marcone,” Vadderung grumbled. “I didn’t think you’d object so strongly to this one, or I wouldn’t have sent him. ...Little Baron, don’t look so betrayed. I wouldn’t have hurt you.” He crossed the bedroom in a few giant strides, standing behind Marcone, shielding him from my view with his massive body, leaning his shaggy head to have a low-voiced conference.
I sort of stared at them. I mean, recognizing myself as the kind of guy who could occasionally like it when giant, muscular rogue-types had their way with him had taken time and a lot of self-doubt and that period where I was going ‘alack is me, I am a monster without moral limits, I shall go screw her and him and him and her because that is what bad people do’.
Recasting Marcone into that role?
Marcone? The only time I’d ever seen him hint he had an interest in sex was when I’d walked in on him and a woman of his acquaintance sharing his desk chair-- and Helen was special to him, in his own messed up way. I mean. That guy didn’t eyeball other women; he definitely didn’t eyeball other men. That guy did not splay out in a retired god’s bed looking like he’d just won the derby, or wake up and agree to casual sex with a stranger. He barked orders and suppressed his emotions and implied that I was immature while I tried to screw up his life and he tried to herd me into corners.
He just... didn’t.
And if he did, it would mean that sometimes he liked having someone around who was bigger than him. Someone who wasn’t a loyal bodyguard. If I’d thought about it-- maybe I’d thought about it-- I’d figured that the last thing John Marcone could stand in bed was a lover who was bigger than him. Someone who reminded him that his power wasn’t absolute.
They’d shifted so that I could see John in profile, relaxed into Vadderung’s arms, head pillowed against a pectoral. He’d gotten his slacks on and nothing else; his feet were pale and pink against the dark fur rug, his bare stomach a few shades darker than the man he was leaning on.
“All’s well?” Vadderung asked, louder than the rest of their conference but just barely on the edge of my hearing. John nodded.
“Another time.” He took a deep breath, the line of his jaw firming, mouth setting, and stepped away from the shelter of the Vaddering’s embrace, doing up the button on his pants. He walked around the bed, finding his socks, his shoes. I awkwardly handed him his shirt when the trail lead him to my side of the bed, and he shrugged it on, doing up the buttons with short, controlled jerks.
Vadderung passed him his tie and he wrapped it around one hand, like a fighter getting ready for the ring, stopped in the shadow by the door. “In your own time, Marcone,” Vadderung told him. “You may take of my hospitality until you are ready to return to your steel city: I won’t hurry you out.” His attention shifted to me, eyebrows arching. “And if you are finding the floor so to your taste--”
I flushed and scrambled to my feet. “No, no. Bed. Bed is good.” I sat on it and bounced, awkwardly. At least I could stop worrying about grinning too hard. My mouth had fallen into a flat line.
“Little one,” he sighed, sitting down on the other side and reaching to pull me forward, swinging me back into his lap, twisting us so his back was to Marcone. He tucked his chin over my head, drawing me protectively into the curl of his chest. “Didn’t think you’d take so poorly to sharing a bed with that one,” he murmured to me. “It was not meant to upset you; you are sweet in your pleasure, and you are as sweet shared. You give freely of yourself, and you are much bound up with the Baron. I had thought your allegiance to be on better terms than it is. It seems I may have something to apologize for.”
Yeah. I wasn’t going to push too hard for Vadderung to apologize. It was a major gesture that shouldn’t come of a failed three-way-- and, if I was reading him right, he’d thought he was doing John and me a favour. And sulking about ‘he’s a murderer and a criminal’ would be kind of tacky in front of the Gallows God. See, I learn.
“I just wasn’t expecting it to be him.”
“He’s much in your mind, isn’t he?” Vadderung rubbed a calming circle against my back. “I’ll see if I can’t distract you.” He curled around me a little tighter, chin sliding down to tuck over my shoulder, kissing sucking little smacks down my cheek. He rubbed his whiskers in a little harder than necessary, and I snorted and sniggered despite myself. They really tickle, okay?
I squirmed away-- well, awayish, twisting around in his lap until he spread his knees apart and I sank down between them, straining up and catching his mouth with my own. He slid his hands around my ribs-- could probably make them touch, if he wanted, and wasn’t that a disorienting thought, not that I ever forgot how damn big he was-- and hoisted us around again, leaning back against the headboard, spreading his legs out on either side of me. He flicked his big tongue inside of my mouth, back out, and in again so I could suck on it. His dick poked me in the stomach-- kind of like a baseball bat pokes-- and I got the idea.
I hadn’t heard the door open; John hadn’t left.
I tried to turn, to see over my shoulder. I don’t know what I wanted: to catch him creeping in the corner? To make him know I knew? To find out if he was staring at us like I would be? My back prickled, and the Vadderung’s big strong hand caught my head before I could look, guided me down, his other hand undoing his pants. I realized, belatedly, that I still had my clothes on. And as soon as I remembered that my jeans were there, they became unbearable. I wriggled, wrenched at my fly, tossed them over the side to the floor, and dropped flat on the bed to lick a broad stripe across the top of Vadderung’s dick.
The taste filled my mouth and the tension eased from my back, my neck, my shoulders. This I knew how to do: this was comfortable, familiar. I wrapped my hands around the base of his dick and gave him a few good pumps, sucked noisy, teasing kisses up from the double handful of his testicles to his slit, and licked again, harder, tugged at the foreskin with my lips, getting reacquainted. I pulled away long enough to let Vadderung ease my t-shirt over my head, one of his big hands stroking over my hair, my shoulders, and I stretched my mouth wide, sinking down on him.
He rewarded me with a happy groan, ruffling my hair. “You are skilled with that mouth of yours, Knight,” he rumbled, pleased, the sound coming up around me like the earth shaking, and tipped his pelvis up, giving me that much more of an angle to work with.
I closed my eyes and just let myself get lost in sucking him. It had taken a while for me to figure out how to do that the first time: it’s not just the Vadderung’s chest and shoulders that are massive. Just working out when to breathe was complicated. But it’s worth it. I mean... maybe it’s just me, but the size thing. It was pretty great. The heat and power of his giant ahem ahem godhood slipping down my throat, the familiar stretch in my jaw, his smell and taste focusing my attention-- the world could have dropped away, the door could have opened wide, I could have been putting on a show for half of Monoc Securities and not realized, not cared.
Footsteps came up behind me-- I ignored them. I startled but didn’t bite down the bed dipped and a warm weight nestled against my back. John cupped around me, resting his chin on my shoulder to murmur in my ear.
“I don’t want to bring the boardroom into the bedroom. I refuse to run away from you. If I stay, can I trust you not to make this a problem for me?”
I nodded, very carefully, wondering what Vadderung was making of all of this.
“Then move over.”
John elbowed himself a spot between Vadderung’s splayed legs and-- after a pause to get his shirt and pants back off-- leaned in to join me, his cheek smooth against my stubble, and started to lick and nuzzle Vadderung’s balls.
So we had an interest in common. Vadderung had a big enough package that it was a two man job, anyway. I relaxed back into blowing him, trying to get his cock so far down my throat that I qualified as a sword-swallower.
“Easy, Harry,” Vadderung said, and tugged my hair softly, teasing me and pulling me up. “Later.”
“Mmf?” I came off of him with a slurping sound, and coughed. “Something wrong?”
“I’m just not in that much of a hurry,” he said, ruffling my hair. “You know you’re good with your mouth.”
John snorted gracelessly.
“Baron,” Vadderung sighed. “Behave yourself, would you?”
“I’d never argue that he doesn’t have a smart mouth,” John said piously.
“You’ve truly never been together then? Never had his mouth on you? I’m sorry for that, little man.” The hair-ruffling hand shifted over to pet John’s hair like a cat.
I preened a little. I didn’t want this to turn into some kind of pissing contest, which mortal could impress Vadderung more-- it would give him a swelled head and leave John and me on worse terms than we’d started. But a guy does like to hear he’s appreciated.
“I could show you,” I offered before I could think better of it.
“You don’t have to prove anything to me,” John said tightly, and tensed away from me as much as he could in the small space between Vadderung’s massive splayed legs.
Vadderung sighed. “Is that all you’ll be doing with your mouths for the next little while, boys? Arguing?”
I didn’t answer. I put a hand on John’s shoulder, and when he didn’t outright shake it off, I started to rub the tense muscle, digging tight circles with my thumb in his bulky trapezius, using the effort to focus my thoughts-- most of which were more concerned with getting my mouth back around Vadderung’s dick, and less about playing games with Marcone.
“I don’t hate you. And despite all your kindergarten cracks, I actually do know where to draw a few lines. If you want to stay... it’s weird for me, but I mean. Weird has become really relative lately.”
“I’ve never been in this situation with someone who sees me in the mortal world. It’s not comfortable,” John said stiffly, not shaking my hand away, not looking directly at me.
Yeah. More than anything... yeah. Well, that and the years of sparring and political manipulation and being in each other’s hair and maybe the occasional implied death threats. Just on holidays.
“I’ve never seen you like this in the mortal world. I’m sure I can repress the memory, no problem. I’m good at that. I’d give you references, but I don’t remember them; I’ve got years of experience I don’t know about.”
John snorted again, but his shoulder was relaxing under my hand. I pushed on: “We can go back to our standoff once we’re in Chicago. Like you said, we don’t have to bring that here.” And I wanted to hang on to the sleepy-muscle-guy from the bed, even if the image of Marcone, Criminal Scumbag was clear and sharp.
...which made me wonder what duelling images of me he had in his head.
“Besides, you’ve been flirting with me for years,” I said innocently, slipping back into the easy place where I needled him.
“What.”
“That thing about ‘you know me in a way so profound and intimate that I cannot yet fathom its significance. Just as I know you’? Totally trying to get into my pants. In hindsight, it’s so clear.”
“...Dresden, please shut up and blow the nice retired god.” He bumped his shoulder against mine, my hand falling away, and buried his face back in Vadderung’s basket.
Fill: What Happens In Midgard 3/4
Date: 2011-02-26 05:05 pm (UTC)And people say I can’t be diplomatic. Vadderung had waited patiently while we bickered between his thighs; he made a low, content sound when I joined John, seeing if between the two of us we could get his balls into our mouths. It was a little like trying to swallow a grapefruit whole; I couldn’t say I minded. I lapped up the taste of him, the delicate, crinkled skin, the musk and overwhelming size of it all, happy to rub my whole face against them, pressing in as deep as I could.
I licked and nuzzled and sucked, my face pressed up tight against John’s, my lips brushing against his cheek, his forehead, his mouth. It wasn’t so bad, being up close and personal with him, surrounded by sex, that single-minded intensity I’ve seen him get about other things-- Chicago, a girl in a hospital bed in Wisconsin, protecting Chicago from monsters, Chicago-- made soft and dopey, his eyes bright and a bit dazed, little slits of self-satisfied pleasure. I watched him stretch his mouth wide, swallowing around one of Vadderung’s balls.
I’m a helpful guy; I like to lend a hand. Or a mouth, as the case may be. My lips bumped his as I tried to match him, sucking down the other side of the Vaddeung’s testicle, almost kissing him, awkward, my jaw stretched wide, moaning a little before I caught myself, my mouth so full.
Vadderung gave a rumbling chuckle, pressing his dick down and stroking it against our hair. “You don’t short me on the pretty, do you, my men? But you can’t stay down there all day.”
“Is there something you’d like?” John asked, pulling back and leaving me to slobber on Vadderung’s balls by myself, and it took me by surprise how throaty and warm his voice was. He smiled up, and if he was any other guy I’d have called his expression coy.
“I think so. What do you say, Marcone? Between the two of you, think you’re enough man for me?”
“You sound like you’re in a porno,” I objected, and he bobbed a silver brow at me. “I mean, gosh, I don’t even remember ordering a pizza.”
“But my bathtub drain is so clogged,” John added, leaning on my shoulder so that he could crawl up into Vadderung’s lap. “Let me take a shower and show you what I mean.”
Vadderung kissed him appreciatively, and I watched with interest as John curled against him. I swear, the guy was going to start purring. I crawled up and took Vadderung’s other knee, not wanting to be forgotten, and nibbled on his chin and jaw, bristly-- and maybe a little of John’s chin and jaw, smooth, by accident.
Vadderung bounced his knees, once, twice, then turned us, dropping John and I across the bed. “I believe I know how I want the pair of you, if you’re done spatting because one of you touched the other.”
“Okay,” I said, wiggling against John.
“I place myself entirely in your hands,” he agreed, and then yelped as Vadderung took him at his word and dragged him across the bed, dropping him on his back with his legs flipped up, his head at the foot, his ass facing me. ...He had a great ass. I’d never heard him yelp before.
“You too,” Vadderung chuckled, and scooped his hands under my hips, arranging me the opposite way on the bed, my hips aligned straight with John’s. A wiggle, and our asses bumped, John’s knees coming down on my thighs. He looked down the length of his torso, then up the length of mine.
“When he says ‘man enough--’” John said as Vadderung dipped a finger into my mouth, doing whatever magic it is that turns my saliva into a slick lubricant. I mmm’d and sucked, a little harder than he’d been expecting, going by his chuckle and the pressure he applied with his other hand to the hinge of my jaw so he could pop free. Then our host leaned against the wall near the bed, legs spread, and gave us a grin as he started to work his big fingers into himself.
Oh Stars. I gave John a sideways grin once my eyes had focused again, and we both watched as Vadderung stretched himself, waving his furry ass.
“I’ve seen this porn,” John said thoughtfully, wiggling a little closer to me, tangling our legs a little more thoroughly. One of my feet tucked under the hollow of his back. It was warm, comfortable.
“I’ve done this porn,” I said with a grin. Our balls smacked gently, and I wriggled my hips, trying to get a little friction against his dick.
“...I had no idea you were so well-versed.”
Of all the people not to know that I’d turned Bicycle of Winter--
“Ready, my men?” Vadderung climbed back on the bed, straddling our intertwined legs.
We murmured our assent, and he gripped the headboard, lifting himself into a squat above us. His massive hand curled around my dick and John’s, pressing them together and giving a few toe-curling strokes to remind me just how hard I was, before he guided the the tip of my dick against his entrance. He slipped onto me easily-- and then an inch and a little wriggling later, I hissed as John’s dick pressed up inside, sliding along mine. My ears started to ring; my hands clenched frantically at the bed sheet. My chest constricted-- expanded, my heart threatening to explode right there.
“That’s pretty fine, my little men,” Vadderung said, baring his teeth and lowering himself down over us. “Easy does it. I’d like this ride to last a while.”
Little. My indignation tried to stir up from somewhere deep in my belly, but the tingly pixie dust of pure, stupid, desperate lust smacked it down. Little. Yeah, it was fair, really, considering who was doing the name-calling. Little. ...I could work with that. Something went sizzle-crackle-spark in my gut, shot straight up like a firework-- oh Stars, could I work with that. My toes curled; I made a yippy sort of grunt and tried to wedge myself up higher, tighter into him, trying to get him to take us all, certain he could, he was so damned big.
John let out a throaty groan, gripping at Vadderung’s hip. I found his other hand with mine, squeezing, his fingers as clawed, as sweaty as mine. He gripped back, just as hard-- Vadderung was tight and clinging around us, wet and slick and hot. I made a little hip motion, jerky, stuttery; I didn’t really have the leverage to go far, with John’s legs tangled around mine.
He didn’t quite bottom out onto us, but he got low enough that his pendulous balls tapped my thigh hello before he rose with a happy sound and the flex of his massive thighs. ‘Thews’, really. Whatever thews were, he had them. The headboard creaked as he used it for leverage, rising slow and coming down with a deep, rumbly sigh. Horny, pleased thunder.
John made a frustrated sound and started to pull at my legs, untangling us a little-- once he had footing, he lifted up, his abs straining as he forced himself and me, my legs on top of his now, all the way up into Vadderung.
Stars went off behind my eyes: either John or I made an embarrassing cooing noise-- definitely John. Had to be. Don’t believe anyone who tells you differently. He dipped us back out and I got my legs under me enough to help on the next thrust up.
“You’re sweet together,” Vadderung said, voice low and dirty. “See how well you can fill me? Come on, boys, give me a solid fucking, leave me loose enough that the wind whistles in. Put your backs into it.”
John pulled his hand out of mine, wrapping it around the two of us-- his dick flush to mine, wet and hot and slick-smooth, the extra girth I never knew I’d been missing, an extension of myself. Like we were sharing one big conjoined penis, I thought giddily, like we’d grown together, one and the same, and by the wild look in his eyes as he stroked us together-- urging us hotter, harder, in desperate counter-point to the Vadderung’s rhythm-- his mind was rolling around in the same gutter.
“Harder, little ones,” Vadderung said, his deep, growly pitch hitting me somewhere behind my hips, making them jerk, throwing off John’s stroke for a beat. “Split me open like I tell you to.”
I whined embarrassingly, hips trying to snap up against John’s grip and the steady, subtle weight of the Vadderung pushing down, my skin on fire where he let his balls rest for a few seconds, his ass hovering teasingly over our thighs. The headboard creaked worryingly.
“Son of a bitch,” John snarled, shaking as he forced his abs to drive us higher, harder, faster. “You just. Going to lie there, Harry? Come-- on. Like you fucking mean it.”
Vadderung was hot, tight, growing slicker, flexing around us-- I was losing track of where my body ended and where his and John’s began, pushing harder and harder into him, a bit of me thinking we were going to rip right through, the rest convinced we were going to slip inside and be devoured. I clawed at the mattress and hooked one of my legs around one of John’s, dug deep into the well of strength Winter gave me and rocked us up so hard, so fast Vadderung capsized, tipping sideways and catching himself with one knee and one arm and a booming laugh.
“That’s more like it,” Vaggerung righted himself with another laugh, delighted, slamming back down on us, balls smacking my thighs, his ass stopping a bare inch above our skin. Something dripped on my stomach-- sweat, precome, his giant cock red and slick. I bared my teeth, meeting his grin when he looked down, down, down at us, and drove us up, making him sway and shudder. “Well done, my little man. Show me again.”
“...Winter fucking steroids,” John gasped, and I burst out laughing, letting go of the mattress to reach one hand up to grip at the Vadderung’s tree trunk-- I mean thigh-- and wrapping the other around John’s hand, squeezing us together hard enough to make him grunt and jerk towards me.
There was that cooing sound again-- John really needed to get that looked at-- and we found our rhythm, a few perfect thrusts that left our pelvises smacking Vadderung’s meaty thighs and firm ass.
John made a garbled, warning sound, a moan that got strangled on the way out, and we lost our rhythm for the last time as his hips locked at their highest point. He was shaking, frozen in Vadderung, and I felt his cock spasm against mine. I drew out and thrust in, the head of my cock running hard up the length of his, once, twice, and again-- and he made this painful keening sound and came so hard we almost knocked Vadderung over again.
John slumped out of Vadderung, puddling bonelessly on the bed; I followed him, a few last hot, sloppy thrusts later, a lot less boneless, groaning. I could crack rocks, I was so hard, and if I didn’t get something--
The oak headboard creaked and the bed dipped as Vadderung lifted his leg over and knelt beside me, giving a pleased little wince and roguish grin. “My turn.”