for bucky.

[marriageable]

[ She should really be heading home.

It’s the same thought she’s been having for the past hour — everybody else had filed out long ago, the hour hand on the wall ticking past eight. The museum had been closed three hours past already; she was sure to hear it from her mother for being late again to supper. It was not like Daphne to be late anywhere, save for the acceptable tardiness when one was being fashionable, or giving the host time to freshen up.

But she likes her job, and she really doesn’t mind the tasks handed to her; she’s the youngest of the curators, after all, eager to prove her worth.

Even if not absorbed in her work, she would think anything of a creak, or a shuffling noise in the distance. Maintenance came in at night, and old buildings make all sorts of noises.

None of it registers, until she shoulders her purse and flicks the lights off. A rustle, followed by a thud. In the dim hallway, she casts her eyes over toward the open door to the director’s office.

Something stills her from moving forward, but she calls out anyways, because it’s nothing, naturally, just another weekday night — ]

I’m heading out now, Dr. Porter. I’ll see you in the morning.

Comments

[marriageable]

[ Daphne doesn’t pay much mind to their new surroundings, not really taking them in, not really thinking about anything besides the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath hers, how his smell is highest where her head has nestled against his throat.

She whimpers when he lowers her to the mattress, sorry for the loss of his warmth and nearness, clammy with heat. Nevertheless, she manages to wriggle out of her skirt and blouse, leaving the bra and her ruined underwear.

Something primal and docile tells her to get on her knees, a pretty present for him. ]

[ostavil]

( It is a pretty picture and he pulls away her underwear without much thought before shoving down his own pants to slide into her. He does it without asking, without preamble, because he can smell how ready she is for him.

He's burning for her as much as she's burning for him and the only relief he can get is by fucking her, hands grasping her hips tightly. )

[marriageable]

[ She had already forgotten how large he was, speechless at first, thinks she cannot possibly take him, but she does.

Daphne produces a sound that cannot be called human, almost like a yowl, at the first of many thrusts, but it’s not a sound that speaks to any pain or displeasure. On the contrary, she tilts her hips, tries to change the angle a little, undulating though his grip on her is vice-like. ]

[ostavil]

( It is all instinct now, pushing deep into her and grasping her soft flesh with little thought for how bruising his fingers might be. He will take care of her afterward, yes, but now he needs this almost as much as she needs it.

Her scent is full bloom in his nose and he snarls even though there is no one around to be jealous of. )

[marriageable]

[ Primeval understanding connects them, and she knows, simply knows that he is claiming with that growl, guarding her like a precious thing must be guarded. She draws a hand up from the mattress, with some difficulty as he fucks her with such ferocity, to place over the hand secured to her hip, letting him know with only touch: I am here. I am yours. ]

[ostavil]

( The touch grounds him and soothes him in a way nothing else really can for a moment and when his knot catches, he ruts into her a few more times until he comes.

He leans over a bit and kisses her skin, trying to be reassuring. )

[marriageable]

[ She doesn’t join him, but it turns out she doesn’t need to; his climax is enough to sate her, little mewls of pleasure vibrating from her throat, her eyes shut as she lets her body mold into the bedding beneath his own. ]

[ostavil]

Are you all right?

( He feels protective now, covering her this way, and he pitches his voice low and soft. )

[marriageable]

[ Nothing is wrong, exactly, but still, her heart somersaults in the cavity of her chest; she trembles, clammy, glad that his body is drawn over hers. ]

Yes. [ She moves her head to the side, just enough that her voice is not so muffled. ] I’m cold.

[ostavil]

Let me move us.

( He gathers her tight to him so they can roll onto their sides, still knotted, and tugs the blanket up to cover them. )

Better now?

[marriageable]

[ She nods, for his sake, though the blanket is, she cannot help but notice with growing awareness, scratchy on her skin. that is something that has her nose scrunched up, unhappily. ]

[ostavil]

( He can tell that there's something she dislikes and he frowns deeply; whatever it is, he has to fix it. )

Is there something wrong? What do you need?

[marriageable]

[ She can’t very well tell him. It’s trivial.

Shaking her head: ] It’s fine.

[ostavil]

( The way they're positioned, it's his right hand that he's able to stroke up and down her body to comfort her, the left pillowed behind their heads. )

You can tell me, Omega.

[marriageable]

[ She’s tense; Alpha has shown displeasure and barked at her when she’s been, even unintentionally, rebellious. She doesn’t want to risk it when they’re bound together like this.

She doesn’t want to be a burden either.

His hand strokes, and for a minute she’s resolute, anxious, before relenting. ]

The blanket.. it’s itchy.

[ostavil]

I have to find another later.

( There's nothing he can do about it now, tied together, but he will have to find something she likes better as soon as he can. He still tries to soothe her. )

I don't know what this place has to exchange it with.

[marriageable]

[ Oh. Placated, some of the tension loosens from her muscles. She swallows, audibly, and turns her head a fraction so she can see part of his profile.

Her breath catches again. He’s beautiful, in a stoic way. She chances reaching back to touch his cheek. ]

Thank you, Alpha.

[ostavil]

( He preens under her attention, glad that he's solved the problem for now and that she's happy with him. He presses his palm against her stomach and holds her close to him. )

You're safe now. No other Alphas can find you here.

[marriageable]

[ At that, she makes a little noise, more contentment than displeasure; he’s so deeply fucked into her, jostled up against her womb, his palm pressed against her belly a reminder. But the joy on his face is almost as satisfying to behold — she’s made him happy, and that’s all her omega wants in that instance. ]

I know. [ She praises him. ] You’re going to be such a good Alpha. I know it already.

[ostavil]

( It makes him happy. He doesn't remember the last time he felt anything at all, much less happy, and it makes him beam with the attention. He dips his head down to nuzzle at her neck. )

I want to keep you.

[marriageable]

Oh— [ Gasped, her eyes fluttering shut, cunt clenching in answer. Wanting, she slips her arm behind her, to the crown of his head, drawing him closer to her skin. ]

[ostavil]

I will give you everything you need. No one will bother us here and you can have everything you want. I'll take care of you.

( It feels good to nurture instead of hurt and he knows he must smell content. )

[marriageable]

[ All of that sounds good, sounds exactly as it should. Moreover, it feels right, which means it must be. Intellectually, she isn’t intimately familiar with the ins and outs of this. She isn’t supposed to be part of this world. She was the only Bridgerton without a designation, much to her mother’s incredulousness, and that was okay. She had seen what happened to her when her father died. ]

Can you — move? Just a little.

[ostavil]

Move?

( There isn't far he can go, tied to her, but he draws his hips away as much as he dares and pushes back in against her. His knot tugs but doesn't pull out. )

[marriageable]

Yes — that’s good. [ A breathy whine, the hand not in his hair moving low, right above where he is connected to her. Brushing against her swollen clit. ]