His Scent

[StantonXAlaric]

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"You're still here?"

I blinked past the burning in my eyes from staring at the same spreadsheets on my desk to see my brother, Raven, leaning against the doorframe to my office, a frown plastered on his otherwise pretty face. Of course, he'd probably kill me if he ever heard me call him pretty.

But he was pretty.

The very definition of tall, dark, and handsome with curly black hair he kept cropped short, his baby blues staring holes into my face, and his muscular build hugged tight in a pair of black jeans, a black turtleneck under a leather biker jacket, a pair of Harley Davidson shitkickers, and finishing off his outfit was a pair of black leather gloves that hid the damaged hands he was self-conscious of.

I glanced away from him to the clock on the computer screen sitting to my left, and I grimaced when I realized it was three in the morning... and I still wasn't done.

I reached up to pinch the bridge of my nose and rub my eyes as Raven came the rest of the way into my office. It wasn't a huge office, but it was big enough to get my job done. My job of overseeing all security detail in the palace as well as the realm itself, which was a huge step up from my last job... apparently, because I couldn't remember shite about it after I'd gone brain dead for a few hours.

"Alaric, this is the third night in a row I've come in here and seen you staring at those papers. Glaring at them won't make things better. You need to take a break and relax," Raven said, moving to sit gracefully into an ugly plush blue and white French designer chair Lucifer had gotten me when he first had the office installed in the palace. Not that I didn't appreciate my own workspace, I just really wished Lucifer liked more neutral colors. Nothing said "I'm gay as fuck" like a frilly blue and white chair that belonged in a Paris romance novel.

Then again, given my choice in attire...

Heat threatened to creep into my face, but I managed to stamp it down by rubbing at my face.

The only other person who knew about my underwear choice was Stanton, and it should stay that way. Only Stanton needed to know I had a fetish for lingerie, and I wasn't even sure why that was. Of all the things that followed me into this new life of mine, that was a constant. I couldn't help it, though. I'd tried switching to boxers, boxer-briefs, and just plain commando, but nothing felt better than having the soft lace and satin.

Christ, now I'm thinking about it.

I shifted in my seat, clearing my throat and turning back to the spreadsheets, pretending to fiddle with them in hopes Raven hadn't noticed my sudden fluster.

"I don't have time to relax. Atlan's already busted in here once and I won't let it happen again, Raven," I told him. The reminder was definitely a way to get myself somber. Thinking about it infuriated me, that Atlan and his troops had somehow gotten into Hell and destroyed the military base in Portius. Granted, everything had changed since then and the base had been completely rebuilt with high tech security that ranged from two layers of teleportation proof barriers, thirty feet tall walls lined with electrically charged barbed wire and several guard towers with machine weaponry poised and ready for any attacks. However, none of it was enough to settle the nerves churning and twisting beneath my skin.

It was my job to oversee the security of the realm. I'd even been called upon to advise Hades and Cerberus on the protection of Hades from time to time, and yet I had failed in that too. As time dragged on, I found myself wondering why I was even in this position. Everything I'd put into place, things that had made people feel safe, was torn down in just a single attack that took less than six hours.

It'd been a few months since Atlan's attack. The military base was tricked out with not only the afore mentioned, but security cameras positioned every few feet to capture every angle around the base itself, as well as several dozen more inside the main building.

"Alaric, it's not your fault," Raven began, and I shut my eyes in irritation at yet another round of Patronizing-Alaric, "Look at me, little brother." I forced my eyes open to look up at him, frowning as he leaned forward in his seat. His blue eyes seemed to darken, his expression serious and stern, in a way that reminded me of the expression he used when he was training his gang of misfits called the Seven Deadly Sins.

"None of that was your fault. We were not prepared. We as soldiers should always be prepared for an attack. It's our fault for thinking highly of ourselves. While we are great, we are not invincible. We know that now. Your security was flawless. It was our behavior that was not." I shook my head in denial and Raven sighed in frustration, getting up from his seat. I stepped away from my desk, wiping a hand down my face.

"Raven, I get what you're trying to do and while I appreciate it, don't. I don't need to be patronized and I don't need someone telling me that my macaroni necklace is pretty when it's a piece of shit. I'm not a child anymore and I'm tired of being treated like one," I explained as calmly as I could. It wasn't Raven fault. It wasn't anyone's fault, aside from my own. I'd always been a child, right up to the moment I died and Hades had revived me.

This was my chance to change everything, my chance to grow up and show everyone I was perfectly capable of handling things on my own. I had to do things on my own and stop depending on everyone else. Look where it'd gotten me before; dead as a doornail and no memories of my life before this one.

Well, there was one, and the second it flashed across my subconscious eye, I flinched and covered my face for a moment in hopes of banishing that vision from my mind's eye. The one memory I had of my life before was the worst memory I could've ever been stuck with.

That dark projection room, filled with so many people that we were nearly elbow-to-elbow, the silence in the room deafening until a light flashed on the projection screen and a horrific reel of events played out. Events chronicled by the former general of Hades's army, Julius Alexandrite. In particular, the events in which he tortured my brother, Raven, for an entire year. Just having caught a glimpse of that image made bile rise in my throat. I didn't even want to think about that having gone on for an entire year.

Even worse, according to our father, we'd all thought Raven was dead. Nobody had a clue what had been done to him. They'd accepted his death with sorrow and heavy hearts... No, we had accepted his death. Even I hadn't gone out in pursuit of him. I hadn't been there to protect Raven, and that burned at my core.

I should've been there to help Raven.

Even then, I'd been in charge of security for the palace and its royal line, and still, I'd failed at my job.

The thought of those things happening to anyone else... It was enough to make me sick.

"I know you're not a child, Alaric," Raven said gently, "Anyone with a brain can see you've come so far, so quickly. I know it hurts. Believe me, I go out there on the battlefield and I have to stand there and watch them fall with my own eyes, and I hate it. Gods, I fucking hate it, Alaric. I can remember each and every soldier who has died at my side, protecting my realm, a realm I should be protecting all on my own... But it's impossible to protect a realm on your own. That's why we need to rely on each other. That's why we need to work together to protect ourselves. If you blame one person, you are blaming all of us."

I grimaced, turning away from him to look at the window that looked out over the city of Hell. Even from my window on the second floor of the palace, I couldn't see the part of Hell where the city faded into countryside. I couldn't even see the mountains of Gehenna in the distance. I couldn't see the entire realm and that bothered me. What little I could see, I might not be able to protect.

Even if I tried to protect the realm from Atlan, what about the dangers within the realm?

From my window, I could see the part of Hell where the sunlight didn't seem to reach fully. The slums where the poor had congregated, the addicts, the criminals, the villains, the monsters, the victims. That there was the real hell that the humans feared. That there was the unfortunate hell that some creatures were forced to endure.

And I couldn't do anything about it.

"I hate this," I managed at last, clenching my fists and pressing them down on the windowsill, feeling the sleek pinewood dig into my knuckles, "I hate standing in here and not being able to do anything. I feel useless." The air shifted beside me as Raven came to stand at my side, staring out the window, his eyes doing a sweep of the buildings outside. Businesses, homes, offices, schools, government buildings. Some were as tall as skyscrapers, others as small as shacks. Some brightly colored purples and blues, others neutral browns and whites. People ranging in ages from infancy to seniority, and probably even unsettled spirits gliding through the maze of structures. In the night, the city was blanketed in darkness with brilliant lights scattered throughout.

It was just too much.

"I know," Raven murmured, his eyes scanning the scenery, and the lamp on my desk cast an eerie glimmer in his eyes as he blinked and turned to look at me, "It's the curse of being royalty. We may have all the perks of cash, but we'll never be able to sleep at night without knowing every single person in this realm is settled down into bed and sleeping safely. I want to tell you it'll get better, Alaric, I do, but I'd be a liar... We have to do what we can. And you can do so much more if you just give yourself a break. When was the last time you've even seen Stanton?"

My gut twisted in a knot and I clutched at my stomach, trying to count back the days since I'd last seen Stanton, and my heart felt heavier the more I realized it'd been at least three weeks since I'd last seen Stanton, and it had only been in a business setting. He'd been busy with the constant turmoil in the mortal realm. Deaths had been raking up in the mortal realm, probably a result of Atlan's return.

His animosity could be felt through all the realms, and according to Stanton, even the Source was unsettled. His anger and his hatred and his evil was a potent poison that even mortals could feel. They had no idea what it was and they had turned on each other, pointing fingers and bombs, instead of stopping to realize something was upsetting the balance of the natural world.

And the last time I'd spoken to Stanton had been only to inform him of the security I'd set in place around Gehenna, so I could warn him not to try and teleport inside like he normally did. I hated hindering his job, but it was my job to make sure people couldn't come and go freely. It was terrifying to be this paranoid, and Stanton knew it too.

Was he even home now? Death didn't have a schedule, and it happened often, but not always was Stanton the one called in to do the job, considering the different beliefs and the different souls. Maybe he was in bed now, sleeping. Alone.

"You're exhausted," Raven said again, making me look at him sleepily, "You have circles under your eyes and you're getting paler by the day. Just go home and sleep, Alaric. Take a day off. Dad's told me to tell you that, by the way, so it's not just friendly brotherly advice. We seriously want you to get on your ass and rest." I sighed, frustrated that it had come this far, but Raven was right.

My focus was blurred and I was repeating things, and I could make a mistake and that was the last thing anyone needed right now. Reluctantly, I nodded and Raven relaxed. His expression once again returned to the soft gentle older brother one I recognized. He reached out, cupping the back of my neck and pulling me close so he could touch our foreheads together before he kissed either of my cheeks and patted my shoulder.

"Sleep well, little brother. Come back and try again. Sometimes all we need to do is get away for a while to regroup, okay? I'll call you tomorrow," Raven said, stepping away. I just nodded again and he smiled before disappearing from the office.

I powered down my computer and made a quick call to the tech center to let them know I was going to install new cameras in the palace before I shut the lights off and walked out of the room. I teleported from my office back to the house I shared with Stanton, not more than two blocks down from the palace. Because no matter how many changes I made in my new life, I couldn't be too far from my family in case of an emergency.

Our house was a small blue and brown craftsman house with stonework across the foundation and chimney that stuck out from the side where the living room was. It wasn't too fancy and we still hadn't cut our lawn, so the grass tickled my ankles as I walked down the worn flagstone footpath to the front door. I came inside and shut the door, clicking the lock into place and resetting the alarm, typing in the code and using the fingerprint scanner, activating the motion sensors and security cameras.

I dropped my keys in a bowl just inside the kitchen doorway to the left. The kitchen was dark and smelled like Pine-Sol, which meant the maid had already come and left. Sure enough, a small note was stuck to a paper plate of cookies, thanking Stanton and I for her paycheck and a reminder that our clothes were still in the laundry room.

And judging from the eerie silence in the house, Stanton wasn't home. Disappointed to the extreme, I made my way up the narrow staircase in the open living room to the bedroom upstairs. I flicked the lights on, filling the room with a cozy warm glow from the recessed lighting above. It was a small room, but then, the whole house was small. I liked it like that, though. Easier to clean and keep track of everything.

Speaking of which, last I checked, the kitchen sink needed to be repaired. I sighed, changing out of my work uniform in a pair of black sweatpants and headed downstairs to grab a glass of almond milk and a couple cookies as I dialed the repair guy, scheduled an appointment for next week. I hung up and leaned on the sleek black island counter, staring across the kitchen out the small window over the sink that looked out into the empty yard that separated our house from the neighbor's.

It was dark inside, but then, that wasn't a surprise. With three kids living there, the family was in bed by eight.

I yawned and wrapped up the rest of the cookies, finished my milk and went upstairs, feeling strangely depressed. It was more than just the war weighing on my shoulders, more than the security risks. I hadn't seen Stanton in weeks and I felt so... alone. Before Atlan had shown up, everything had been fine. Stanton and I slept together every single night, woke up to have breakfast together, saw each other off to work, or sometimes Stanton would stay home and wait for me to get home, which used to be so much earlier. I was usually home by six and Stanton and I got to spend the rest of the night together. We even ate dinner together.

Now, I couldn't remember the last time we ate together.

I wiped a hand down my face, stuffing another cookie in my mouth, but it still wasn't enough to pig out on junk food. My fingers flexed against the countertop and my jaw ached. It was the beginnings of a craving for something I hadn't had in a long time.

I wrapped up the cookies, downed the rest of my milk and headed upstairs, popping open the bottom drawer of my nightstand. I dug through several layers of old magazines and Christmas cards until I found the beat up box of cigarettes. I turned the thing over three times in my hands, studying the crinkles in it, flipping the top open to check on the sticks inside. Unharmed and ready to be used.

I shut the drawer and went downstairs, going through the large French doors in the dining room out onto the back porch. A small porch with a couple of rustic ranch style chairs, a little glass table with a handful of candles on it, and wooden wind chimes that made dull clunking sounds as the gentle night breeze knocked them together.

I went to the porch railing, leaning over and placing the box on the railing, staring out at the backyard that was relatively small. Stanton and I didn't need much space. We spent most of it upstairs anyway, or at least, we used to. Beyond the grass and the small wrought iron fence around our property was a good empty field of tall grass and wetlands that drained into the Black Sea. The sound of frogs creaking in the distance, crickets chirping high and low, the strange ass birds that didn't get the memo of nighttime peace, already cooing and twittering occasionally.

Overhead, the sky was a blanket of darkness with speckles of stars twinkling here and there, and the moon waxing close to full. Probably another two days before it became a milky opal in the sky. I'd probably come out here just to stare at it.

I looked down at the cigarette box on the railing, picking it up slowly. Turning it over and over in my palm before I tapped the box against the heel of my palm before flipping the top and sliding a stick out. I set the box aside and placed the cig between my lips, somehow a heavy weight there on my bottom lip. I flicked out my two fingers and started a spark, a flame glimmering in the darkness as it rode up to the end of my cig and I shook my fingers to put the flame out before taking it between the same fingers.

I took a slow steady drag, closing my eyes for a moment at the sensation of hot smoke darting down into my body. I withdrew the cig and breathed a thin stream out into the night, watching it waver before dissipating. I folded my arms on the railing, leaned on it, took another drag.

The cigarette didn't do much to settle my nerves, to settle the heaviness in my chest. I didn't like being alone. I hated it. Something else that had carried over from my previous life, or maybe it was just how everyone felt. Loneliness was cold and dark and heavy. It was too quiet, even with the frogs and the insects and birds buzzing beyond the field.

I missed Stanton. I missed his towering massive body taking up the doorways of our small house. I missed hearing his deep baritone Brooklyn accent rolling through the walls as he talked to people on the phone, or the way it dropped to a husky growl whenever he got into bed with me. I missed his arms going around my waist whenever I was brushing my teeth so he could lean in and nip at my ear, his hand slipping down the back of my pants to stroke me through the lace of my panties.

My vision blurred and I quickly blinked the tears back, sniffing and pausing to cough in the crook of my arm. I frowned at the cigarette, disappointed in its lack of assistance. I dug it out on the railing and tossed the leftovers in one of the candle holders before heading back inside. The sound of the French doors rattling and shutting behind me echoed through the house.

I shut the lights out as I made my way back upstairs to the bedroom, tucking the cigarettes back into their safe nook in the bottom drawer. I brushed my teeth, pausing every so often, because I kept thinking Stanton was going to show up to kiss me.

He didn't.

I went to the bedroom, sliding my pants down my legs and tossing them aside. I paused at the full length mirror across the room tucked in the corner by the closet, catching sight of my reflection. I brushed a hand through my hair, reaching down to touch the lace of the panties I wore. They weren't really anything special. Just a thin black lace with a bow tied in front. It wasn't one of my better ones.

I went over to the dresser and popped open the top drawer where the extensive collection of lace lay in weight to be used. I dug through them until I found one that was still packaged, and I almost laughed as I found myself remembering the day Stanton had bought them for me.

After a ridiculously huge party Lucifer had thrown for my birthday, Stanton had taken me to our new house and shown me the outfit. It wasn't just a pair of panties, though the panties themselves were gorgeous. Thin white lace with satin ribbons tied in bows on the side, and one bow tied in back, just above a low waistline. In the package came a pair of white stockings with matching blue bows at the tops, and a thin white nightie finished the outfit with a satin ribbon that went around and tied in the front.

I ended up not wearing it that night because, well, we'd gotten carried away and forgot about them for a while. We'd pulled them out every so often, but I'd never worn them. Maybe it was just the fact that I was uncomfortable with going full on lingerie. I was used to panties. I'd been wearing them since... Well, since as long as I can remember anyway, and probably before. But the nightie and the stockings were totally new to me.

I looked around the empty room, then turned back to the outfit in the bag. I suppose now was as good a time as any since I was alone and if I decided they weren't my thing, I could do that on my own too, and maybe slip them in the trash while Stanton was gone.

I shut the dresser and went to the bathroom, dropping the lacy black panties and tossing them in the laundry hamper before I tore the package open. The panties were no problem. I'd gotten really good at tying the bows perfectly, and I instantly fell in love with the material. Soft snug lace that perfectly curved around me and held everything in. I did a short turn, looking in the bathroom mirror over the vanity, smiling in appreciation.

Not bad.

So far so good.

I went to the stockings and sat on the edge of the jacuzzi tub, wiggling my leg partially in, only to pause and wrinkled my nose. Ew, not that attractive when your legs were hairy. I cocked my head, then shrugged and ran my hand down my legs, sending a little pulse of magic down in to remove the hair.

I grimaced. Ugh, now that just felt weird. But it was much easier to pull the stockings up all the way to my thighs. I tied the little ribbons on the side, then paused, placing my feet on the floor and looking down at them curiously.

Huh. Not bad. Not bad at all. Once I got over the fact that I'd shaved my legs solely for the purpose of wearing the stockings, it wasn't awful. Actually, the stockings looked pretty good considering I worked out on a regular basis, one such workout being sprinting on the track at the training center, giving me lean, muscular legs. I tilted my feet in, then out, wiggled my toes, rocked back on the edge of the tub and held my feet out in front of me.

Blue was definitely my color.

I stood up and went to the package to pull out the nightie, holding it up and swallowing. Wow, it actually looked like it was going to fit me. Where the hell did Stanton find a nightie this frilly that would fit me? Nighties, as far as I knew, weren't sold in men's sizes. They were still a common women's clothing item, which was unfortunate. How come men couldn't wear lacy things?

Because it's socially fucking weird, Alaric.

Right. But apparently someone didn't think so, because as I slid the night on and tied the ribbon in front, I realized it fit perfectly. It contoured to my body shape, wasn't too loose in front or tight in back. It fell just above the panties. It wasn't bad at all. It felt silky and soft. The material was practically transparent, but added a nice pale tint to my skin.

I reached up and brushed my fingertips over the material, then ran my hands down my sides down to the ribbons on the stockings. Heat rushed into my face and I looked up at my reflection, pursing my lips.

Oh wow.

Blue is definitely your color.

I ran my fingers along the stockings, did a partial turn to see a side view, then a full turn to see a back view before coming back to the front again. I started to smile, only to feel a strange wave of loneliness.

Stanton wasn't here to see that his gift actually looked and felt great. He wasn't going to be here to touch me or see me flaunt my ass in these panties. That was strangely depressing and the momentary joy I felt over the outfit faded. I sighed wistfully, but didn't feel like changing, so I wadded the package up and tossed it before heading into the bedroom.

I looked at the bed wistfully, then got on top of the thick black duvet, crawling over to Stanton's side of the bed. I flopped down, tucking my arm under his pillow, bringing it to my face, only to freeze. I pressed my nose to the cotton material and inhaled.

It didn't smell like Stanton.

Stanton hadn't slept here in... how long had it been since he slept in the same bed as me?

My vision blurred again, but no matter how many times I blinked, the tears came anyway and slid to the pillow, creating a large dark stain on the faded checkered blue cotton. I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed the side of my face against the pillow, trying to pick up his scent somewhere in the threads, but I wasn't getting it. I wasn't getting that hot smoky cigarette smoke that lingered from his bar visits, or the deep warm leather. I couldn't even pick up hints of his spicy cologne with the name I couldn't pronounce because he insisted on always getting some kind of weird Russian cologne. But it smelled good.

He smelled good.

And now I couldn't even smell him.

I bit back a sob, shutting my eyes tight and pressing my face harder against the pillow, wrapping my arms around it now.

My heart ached so much. It hurt. I hated this, I hated this war, I hated our jobs, I hated everything. I just didn't want to be alone anymore. I didn't want to come home to an empty house at three in the morning. I didn't want to eat cookies by myself. I didn't want to smoke or wear cute lingerie.

Not if Stanton wasn't here with me. All of it felt pointless.

And it was stupid to feel this way, I knew that. But I couldn't help it. I tried to stop the flow of tears, tried to get away from the sorrow by sitting up, but it just made it so much harder to try and be strong. I spent every single day trying not to break down from everything. Knowing people had died during Atlan's attack crushed me. Knowing people in the palace had died during the Titan attack. Knowing what had happened to Raven that year he was away from us. I couldn't stopped all of it, but I wasn't smart enough or strong enough. It didn't matter how many security cameras I installed, how many lasers I mounted, motion detectors, barriers. None of it worked.

People still got in. People still got hurt. And now all of that was taking me away from the one good thing in my life, and now I didn't even have him here to make things feel somewhat bearable.

I fell back down on the bed again on my side, stretching out and trying to force myself to go to sleep to get away from the nasty thoughts invading my head, but it was just giving me a headache. I shut my eyes, willed the lights off, except for the lamp on Stanton's nightstand. An ugly redneck lamp he got when he went to some stupid country music concert. It was a cheap thing made with barn wood to look like a horse with a cowboy on it and the shade itself was made of faded red plaid.

Jesus fuck that thing was ugly as hell.

The sound of a floorboard creaked and I froze, my eyes flashing open. I held my breath for a moment, listening to the silence of the house, the distant muffled sound of the insects chirping, the birds crooning, and frogs croaking. I heard the faint clunking of the windchime.

Had I imagined that? Still, I held my breath and listened, waiting.

Crik.

There it was again. It was the floorboards just outside the bedroom, where the door was laying wide open and here I was laying sprawled on the bed in fucking lingerie. Nothing said defenseless like that. Unfortunately for the intruder, my choice in underwear didn't coincide with the fact that I could kick ass and take names if I needed to.

It would just really suck to have to do that in lingerie.

I started to reach for the dagger that was hidden in the headboard, only to pause when a smell wafted into the room and tickled my nostrils. I breathed it in deep, closing my eyes and savoring it, feeling tears well in my eyes again. Hot smoky and spicy wrapped in leather.

He wasn't in the room yet, but I could feel his stare from the hallway. He wasn't coming in because he hadn't thought I'd noticed him. Biting my lip, I lifted my hips up off the bed, sliding my hand down my side to my hip where I twirled the satin bow around my finger.

There was the whisper of air and a second later, Stanton was looming in the doorway and I sank back down on the bed, rolling onto my side and propping my head up to look at him, and I tried not to leap off the bed and jump on him. But it took everything I had not to.

My eyes drank in the sight of him. Ridiculously tall and ripped like an Olympic swimmer, Stanton made quite a show of sliding his heavy leather duster off, tossing it on the end of the bed, and I felt the mattress dip with the weight of it and the weapons tightly holstered within its leather folds. He wore a tight black wifebeater tank top and snug black jeans with several chains dangling from front pocket to back pocket. His tall huge buckled biker boots with the steel toe thumped hard on the floorboards as he made his way to the bed, and I slowly sat up to greet him, remaining silent, however.

His sandy blonde hair fell in his eyes, eyes that were as black as the night sky, the light in the room giving them the twinkle of stars. His ruggedly cut jaw and hard masculine face made my heart skip a bit, and I reached up to brush the hair back from his face, dragging my fingertips across the rough stubble covering his jaw. He closed his eyes for a moment, then reached up to capture my hand in his, his fingers rough and calloused. He turned my palm and kissed me there before placing my hand against his cheek, his black eyes meeting mine intensely.

"I missed you," he whispered. I pressed my lips together hard to keep from crying again. Instead, I took a deep breath and scooted closer, and he moved me into his lap. I tilted my head and kissed him gently on the lips.

"I missed you too," I replied softly. He drew his hands up along my sides, stroking me through the soft material of the nightie and I bit my bottom lip at that.

"I see you dug this old thing up," he murmured, then paused to sweep his thumbs over my nipples, back and forth, making me groan, "It looks hot on you, baby. You should wear this stuff more often, and I don't just mean the panties." I offered him a smile, but he paused to frown, reaching up and stroking my cheeks.

"Were you crying?" He asked, concerned. I shook my head and he arched a brow. I sighed, leaning forward to touch our foreheads together.

"I just really missed you. When was the last time you slept in the bed?" I asked, tilting my head in question. Stanton wrinkled his nose thoughtfully for a moment, then shrugged and looked at me.

"I'm not sure. I guess when you stopped sleeping in it," he responded. I stared at him.

"Me?" I asked. Stanton nodded, looking a bit disgruntled.

"You stopped sleeping here for a few weeks. I figured you were sleeping at the palace. I didn't want to be in here alone. Just look at what it did to you; you've probably only been here for an hour or so and you're decked out in lingerie and crying all over the bed, and no offense, babe, but I don't think I can pull the stuff off as well as you can," he said. I couldn't believe it. I hadn't even thought about it. I hadn't slept here either. I'd checked in a few times, just to see how the maid was doing and making sure her paycheck got to her in time, but I didn't even think about coming here to sleep. I'd been so wrapped up with work that I had fallen asleep at the palace, not even in the bedroom that was reserved for me at the palace. I'd fallen asleep on the small sofa in my office, which explained why my back and legs hurt so bad, having to curl up to fit on the tiny thing.

I'd definitely need to contact an interior designer for that damn office and all the tiny shit in it.

"I'm sorry," I said, reaching up to tuck a lock of his hair behind his ear, "I didn't even... I was so caught up with everything... Goddamn it, I hate this. I hate this war. I hate Atlan. I hate that we can't just go back to normal." Stanton smiled warily, lowering his hands down my back to play with the ribbon just over my ass.

"Tell me about it. I hate having to deal with his backlash first hand. I just got back from some bombing in Europe, and it wasn't just one bomb. It was several. The amount of chaos that's going on there. It's killin' me, babe. You were the one thing I could look forward to every night."

"I'm so sorry," I managed, immediately feeling guilty, "I just--"

"I'm not blaming you," Stanton told me gently, giving me a squeeze, "I'm just saying that it'd be nice to at least sleep with you at night. We don't even have to do the do, though I wouldn't complain if we did." To make his point, he tilted his head up to nip my chin and I moaned, sliding my lids shut and arching my back against him. He nuzzled his way down my neck, pausing to suckle at my throat. He left one hand on my lower back, stroking the sensitive space there and giving me goosebumps, while his other hand traveled over the nightie to rub at my nipple.

For some reason, with the incredibly thin barrier between our skin, it seemed far more erotic than it would've if he'd touched me skin to skin. I burned for more, reaching up to place my hand over his, moving his hand more roughly over my nipple and grinding down on top of him, feeling the tent pitch in his pants.

He growled low in his throat, tugging me hard against him and biting down on the space between my neck and shoulder, making me gasp. His teeth didn't break the skin, but that was definitely going to bruise in the morning. I purred at the sensation of his tongue sliding over the bruised skin, moving my hands up his shoulders and neck, sinking my fingers into his thick blonde hair, fingernails scraping his scalp tenderly.

"Fuck, I need this so bad," Stanton breathed against my ear, drawing his lips back up so he could nip at my earlobe. I moaned, gripping his hair hard in my fists.

"Then take it," I replied. Stanton growled at the invitation and swung me around, throwing me down on the bed and ripping his shirt off over his head, throwing it on the floor and crawling on top of me. He groaned as he ran his hands along my legs, making my goosebumps prick my skin hard.

"God, you look fucking sexy in this. Blue is your color."

"I was just thinking that," I agreed, smiling as he lifted my legs up, lying them over his shoulders. He tilted his head to the side, nibbling my skin through the stockings, his fingers making a delicate path along my ankle, gliding over my knee, gripping my thigh. He lowered them to the bed, slid down between them, biting the ribbon on one and pulling it loose. I bit my lip, reaching down to sink my hand into his hair, savoring the feel of those thick locks slipping between my fingers.

He kissed a hot path to the panties and laid his tongue flat against the front, then dragged it up to the hem. I moaned, closing my eyes for a moment, before I realized I really needed to watch him, so I stared down at him as he bit the hem of the panties and pulled down, freeing my cock that was hard and weeping for attention. He left the panties on, but tucked me above them, taking me into his hot wet mouth and it took every ounce of strength I had not to come right on the spot. I sank my fingernails into one hand, then threw it back against the sheets, capturing a handful in my fist, twisting it up tight. My other hand twisted in Stanton's hair, forcing his head down further to take me in his mouth.

His tongue worked up and down my tongue, his breath hot and soft against the tip of me as he pulled all the way back. He blew gently across the tip, teased it with the tip of his tongue, then took me back inside. The entire time, his arms were wrapped around my thighs, holding me in place, despite the urge to thrust my hips up to facefuck him.

And just when I thought I was going to hit my peak, feeling the steady desperate ride to the top, Stanton removed his mouth, wiping it on the back of his hand before clearing his throat, towering over top of me.

"I don't think I can wait to play nice tonight, baby," he growled, gripping my knees before he leaned over to his nightstand to snatch it open and wrestle a tube of lubricant. I smiled at that.

"So what do you want to do, huh?"

"I want to fuck you like an animal, if we're being all honest here."

"Then do it." Stanton groaned at that, then jammed the tube between his teeth so he could flip me around. I gasped at the force of being slammed against the bed on my face, then moaned as he hoisted my hips up and shoved the thin lace aside so he could dribble a glob of lube down my crack, the cold of it making me shiver. He doused his cock and tossed the tube aside, lathering himself up before he grabbed my hips, teasing my entrance with the blunt tip of himself in a way that drove me wild.

I pressed back against him and he cursed, his hands shaking before he plunged himself inside me and I gasped, snatching at the sheets as the force of him shoved me against the pillows. I managed to tilt my head into a more comfortable position, then cried out as he slammed himself back into me.

"Jesus!"

"Don't fucking say his name, baby, or I'm gonna go soft real fast."

"Fuck," I groaned, squeezing my eyes shut to block out the small film of tears before I blinked them open again, "Fuck, sorry. It was an express for-- Oh god! Harder!" Stanton started to piston himself, hard and rough and I was definitely going to feel this in the morning, but I couldn't care less. We hadn't been like this in so long. I couldn't remember the last time Stanton took me this hard, this fast, this rough. I hadn't been such a fan of it in the past, but a three week break was definitely enough to turn me in a puddle of slut.

And I loved it.

I gasped hard, clutching at the sheets, not really having to do much work with Stanton slamming into me from behind, his fingers digging into my hips, bruising them and I wanted those bruises to last forever, so next time, I wouldn't forget what this felt like. I managed to reach one hand back, clasping it over Stanton's and he growled.

Without pulling out, he flipped me over so I was facing him and pushed me back down on the bed, one hand leaving my hip to find my hand and pin it to the bed. He shoved hard against me and I cried out, arching my back. He captured my lips before I could even finish the breath, kissing me so hard our teeth smacked together and it was a miracle I didn't lose a damn tooth.

But the fire burned in my veins. I let loose the bundled stress of the past few months and cried out again, throwing my head back against the bed and Stanton took advantage of the position to launch himself at my throat. He sucked fast, bit hard, kissed hungrily. It was definitely the wildest thing I could remember us doing, and it was slowly pushing the stockings down so they collected at my ankles, and the nightie fell open so he could reach up and roughly pull and pinch at my nipple.

My breath left me in ragged gasps, occasional a cry erupting from my throat when his teeth pierced my skin and I could smell the bit of blood that sprang free. It only fueled the rabid hunger inside me for more.

I wanted to feel more.

I wanted it harder.

I wanted to break.

"Fuck me," I pleaded in between gasps, "Fuck me harder, please."

"Oh, I'm going to do more than fuck you, baby, I'm going to fuck you up," Stanton snarled, his voice rough and low, sending chills through me. I threw my hands up around him, sinking my fingernails down into his back and he barked in pain and pleasure, slamming his hips up particularly hard against me.

Holy hell, it felt like he really was fucking everything up inside me. My blood felt like it was boiling and I was being violently pulled closer and closer to the edge of the cliff, and I was seconds away from floating into the sky. And I burst to pieces as Stanton reached between us and gripped my balls hard.

My scream was muffled as my vision flickered and buzzed with static, and my body spasmed, clenching and tossing as I finally hit that peak and flew right past pleasure and into euphoria. My ears rang and I lost track of what was pouring out of my mouth. It felt like I was going to go on forever. I couldn't remember ever having an orgasm that lasted this long.

A second later, I felt something hot inside and Stanton barked something inaudible to me, grabbing a handful of my hair and slamming our mouths together in a hot, sloppy kiss.

As I slowly slid down from that high, my vision came into focus and Stanton was breathing hard over top of me. I blinked him into clarity, breathless and tingly. My legs twitched and my toes were still curled, my knees pressing in at Stanton's sides as he pulled out, only to push me onto my side and hoist one of my legs up so he could jerk the stocking back down to my thigh and I grunted.

"What--"

"You think that's all? Baby, I have three weeks of horny to attend to and something tells me you're not gonna complain about it, are you?"

"No, but you'll be the one to call in and tell my brother why I won't be going into work."

"So worth it," Stanton growled and slammed himself back inside me, making me cry out and grab the sheets.

I lost track of how many times I came after that, lost track of when the pleasure became an erotic twist of pain and euphoria. My body felt like it was breaking into achy pieces and I loved it. It made sleeping a cinch, and by morning, I'd passed out. The last thing I remembered was Stanton pressing his face against the back of my neck, something wet sliding down the sides of my throat as he panted hard into my ear,

"Don't you ever fucking leave me again."

*:☆*゜★。：：＊☆

I woke up the next morning, sore, achy, yet somehow refreshed and strangely snuggly. It helped that I woke up with Stanton's arm draped around my waist, hogging me against him away from the edge of the bed, his leg tossed over mine. I blinked awake, feeling dreamy and dazed, like I was still stuck in that warm sex afterglow.

The room definitely smelled like sex-- hot, rough, erotic sex. And Stanton's cologne. Leathers. Smoke. It was amazing.

I turned my head, rolling over so I was facing Stanton and he latched onto me again, dragging me close against him so I was pressed flush to his chest and he tilted his head down to bury his nose in my hair. I smiled, kissing his chest and he growled, but it was a low, sleepy growl. Like he couldn't muster up the strength to do anything more.

"I feel like you broke my hips," I admitted softly, stroking the space between the plush pads of his pectorals. Stanton peeked an eye open to look at me. I felt heat rush through my veins, wondering where the hell I got this sudden rush of stamina from.

"I feel like you broke my dick," Stanton responded. I tsked and thumped him in the chest, making him laugh, then groan to rub his chest and I realized upon closer inspection it was littered with hickeys. A swell of pride welled up inside me and I thumped his chest again, making him grunt.

"Christ, if you keep hitting me like that, I think I might actually pop another boner. Please stop, have mercy," Stanton grumbled, ruffling my hair. I scoffed.

"How do you think I feel? I don't even think I can move from this bed. And I'm starving," I tacked on, and waited for Stanton to offer to bring breakfast. When he didn't, I thumped his chest again and he whined, but rolled slowly to the edge of the bed.

"Alright, alright, but it won't be anything fancy, got it? I'm not suicidal. I don't cook without my shirt on."

"So put a shirt on."

"Too lazy. You're getting Frosted Flakes and an apple."

"You fuck me and go cheap on breakfast? Gee, thanks," I said, sprawling out on the bed as Stanton shuffled for the door, not even pausing as he flipped me the bird over his shoulder. I laughed, then waited as I listened to him head down the stairs to the kitchen. I could hear him opening and closing the fridge, the sound of pots and pans clattering, and a second later... the sound of bacon frying. I inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of cooking bacon, those instant biscuits baking in the oven... and Stanton's scent lingering in the air around me.

I rolled over and took Stanton's pillow into my arms, closing my eyes and holding it close to my nose. I took a deep breath, relieved to find his smell all over the pillow.

Perfect.

-----

A/N: ... I was in a panty mood. And apparently some other moods too. Huh. Anyway, here's a little StantonXAlaric action for y'all. Hope you enjoyed it!