Finstock carefully placed the last candied lime slice atop the dollop of cream. He exhaled, finished with a new batch of key-lime cupcakes, and stepped back to examine his handiwork.
Icy frost clung to the outside windows but all the plants that remained inside still thrived thanks to Isaac’s singing. Erica’s paintings decorated the walls and Finstock probably needed to make some more donuts before the dessert rush—but before he could move to the ovens he saw that Isaac had gone ahead and started four-dozen new batches.
The bell rang and Kira pushed through the door.
Most days she’d talk to Isaac and Erica for a bit, maybe try out a bakery experiment—but whenever she had to go on long leaves with Peter, she came back with less patience.
Her fingers wove through Finstock’s hair and she kissed him. Finstock liked any and all kisses from Kira. It was hard to pick a favorite, but he had a soft spot for the way she’d kiss him after some time away. She sighed against his lips, her tongue gentle but insistent and Finstock’s knees were weak. Erica wolf-whistled and Isaac politely averted his gaze.
Kira pulled back with a final bite to Finstock’s lower lip that made him want to chase after her. She smoothed out Finstock’s apron.
“It’s good to see you again. Are you free tonight, cupcake?”
The name hit him like a sucker punch, it stole the air from his lungs and his heart leapt into overdrive. His skin felt tight and sensitive and he nodded, his throat clicking.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m free.”
“Great.” She squeezed his hand and kissed his knuckles. “I’ll see you tonight.”
She left with a cheery wave and all Finstock could think of was, Thank God we’re off for the next two days.
Kira felt a hunger grow inside of her that she didn’t fully understand. She was quiet about it, happy with everything she had, every kiss, caress, and moan she shared with Finstock was wonderful. She chased the soft sighs of disbelief that passed Finstock’s lips and would kiss him until he was gasping for a different reason.
“I don’t know,” Kira wrung her hands, “it’s hard to describe. It feels like anxiety but it’s not about me—does that make sense?” The city winds were extra piercing as snow swirled down. It had been a long day of bidding, but Peter left with a large haul. Kira watched her breath puff into clouds. “I just want… I want to make him see what I see when I look at him. He always focuses on me and it’s great, it is, but I want to do that to him, I want to…” Kira shivered, not from the cold as the fog in her mind cleared and she realized what she needed. “I want to hold him down and show him how perfect he is.”
The moment the words left her mouth Kira slapped her hands over her lips. She burned bright read and Peter chuckled, snaking his arm around her shoulder.
“Oh darling, I know exactly what you’re talking about.”
Peter was right, he always was.
The first time Kira stuttered around her request to “try something new,” Finstock hadn’t been expecting her to use the words “submit to me.” Her cheeks had been splotchy and crimson as she pulled out silky black rope.
“I’ve been practicing.” She’d swallowed and when she met Finstock’s eyes his heart almost stopped because her pupils were blown wide. “We don’t have to, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want but I—I wanted to try this—”
When he kissed her she took a few moments to go from nervous to molten. So hot so fast, too fast to take off clothes and too fast to make it to bed. The rope tangled around their legs as she kept talking wetly against his mouth, whining as his hands fumbled with the buttons of her pants.
“I want to take care of you, Bobby.”
He’d heard those words before, usually sinister or sarcastic—never moaned lovingly into and around his lips. He remembered how his heart had thudded, confused, doubting her because—it was one thing to explore a kink but—take care of him?
He should have known better to think that Kira would ever disappoint.
Trying to focus after Kira had called him cupcake was an exercise in futility. Finstock’s entire body throbbed in time to his heartbeat, and the moment he was able to push it from his mind, he’d linger back to Kira, to her lips, her smile, her hands—and he’d be half-hard and aching.
He didn’t get home for another four hours.
Finstock kicked off his shoes in the foyer and he stepped carefully forward. He didn’t have to wait long for Kira to walk out of his bedroom. She wore one of his robes and she bounced on the balls of her feet. Her smile was contagious, so bright that he had to return it. Finstock wondered when he’d been helpless putty in her hands, when did he hand over his heart so willingly—and he’d come to the conclusion that she’d always had it.
“I missed you.”
Finstock confessed against her cheek and down her neck. Kira hummed, tilting her head to the side so Finstock run his teeth over more of her pale skin. He laved his tongue over her rapid pulse and felt her moan tingle against his lips. Predictably, she gently pushed him away.
“Come on.” She pulled him to his master bathroom. “I need to get my hands on you.”
Finstock knew what she meant. Kira had a way of walking between the literal and figurative with ease. After longer trips with Peter she’d come back and needed to feel him, to keep touching him to remind herself of his reality… and fragility. Despite how much he tried to point out he’d lived a dangerous life before, Kira didn’t care.
She set the temperature just right, warm but not enough to redden Finstock’s skin. Finstock undressed, fumbling a bit when Kira simply shed her robe. Her cheeks were pink when he stepped into the shower after her. He kissed her brow and grinned when she laughed.
Practice makes perfect and Kira made sure she had a lot of practice. She had long sessions with rope, manuals, and Peter until she could tie him, be tied, and undo her rope work with a few simple pulls. By the time she approached Bobby with her request she was confident in terms of knowledge of different forms of bondage.
Still, they had a few bumps in the road and now Kira knew they both had to do stretches beforehand. But now…
Bobby had black rope crisscrossed across his chest, and thighs, holding his legs apart and keeping his wrists bound behind him. The ropes branched off in the middle in a pleasant spider-web fashion that made Kira shiver as Bobby squirmed against his restraints.
A black leather blindfold covered his eyes.
His pale skin stood out stark against the dark blue sheets. Kira dragged the back of her hand down the inside of his thighs, smiling when his muscles jumped under her touch. She could see the crease between his eyebrows—he was concentrating on his breathing. She bent down and let her hair fall down and splay out across his thighs and stomach.
His cheeks flushed scarlet. Kira pulled idly at the rope on his thighs, enjoying its pull against his skin and he lost control of his breath.
“I want to take care of you. I want… I want you to be in my control because I can protect you. Nothing bad will happen to you because I won’t let it. I want to… give that to you.”
She’d been terrified, asking Bobby while holding the rope Peter had bought her while her cheeks burned with embarrassment. Bobby had glanced at the rope with a raised eyebrow, but when he met her eyes he relaxed and she knew he was beginning to understand.
Kira liked their ritual. Cupcake was the first step to see if Bobby was okay with dedicating hours to Kira. The second step was for Kira to get her hands on him—literally. She needed to relearn him, to drag him into the shower to wash away all the stresses of the day.
She’d never seen Bobby blush as much as he did when they were in the shower together. He’d taken her apart with his tongue with a crooked smile without batting an eye, but the moment she was on her knees with soap in her hands to wash behind his knees he blushed harder than a schoolgirl. He’d been a trembling wreck the first time, she had to keep reassuring him, “I want to do this for you, Bobby. I want to make sure you’re all right.”
It took time, to reach every part of him, to let the water take away every pain. When the water ran out of heat she toweled him off, being extra gentle with his hair. He’d been so tense at the start of it, but by the time he was dry his body was loose. He wore a lazy smile, one that Kira had to kiss, to feel him fall into her, let her lead him—trusting her to steer him right.
She pressed his lips to his fleshy thigh, some electricity escaping her. Bobby sucked in a sharp inhale, his back arching.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” She spoke against his skin, her tongue there to catch every shiver. She pressed her teeth against him, sucking a bruise against his pale skin. “I have you, Bobby.”
His cock jumped, leaking and smearing his abdomen. Kira straddled his knee and gently grinded against him. He couldn’t move, he had to whimper as he could feel how wet she was. His chest heaved, his blush spreading down his neck.
“You have me,” he promised.
Kira moved quickly, climbing up to him so she could kiss his lips. He jumped, startled since she usually took her time. She licked into his lips, biting the moans out of him. He chased her, leaning up as far as the ropes allowed. He slid his tongue along hers until his lungs burned. She pulled back once his breaths got too short, when his hips got too erratic.
“Breathe.” Kira braced her knees on either side of his chest so she wasn’t too heavy on him. “That’s it.”
The hunger started once the excitement of Bobby’s injuries had faded—after his humanity had been revealed. A moment of clarity, Peter had said, since Kira was forced to face just how close she’d come to hurting him. She’d brought lightening down next to them and he hadn’t looked away from her, not even when she was overflowing with the high from electricity being so near.
His fragility added to his beauty—despite how Bobby still snickered when she lavished him with compliments. Beautiful, the words curled around his tongue and slanted grin, funny word for me, sweetheart.
She ran her fingers up his chest, circling his nipples briefly. She cupped his face and ran her fingers along his bruised lower lip.
Bobby darted his tongue out and Kira slid her fingers on his tongue. He sucked, and despite not being able to see her—he chuckled as her pupils blew wide.
Finstock wasn’t usually the type for self-reflection, but he had to admit that he’d changed since moving to Beacon Hills. It was gradual, a slow tumble until Finstock could grin with an easy sigh.
In his old life, being tied up and blindfolded would have been a hellish nightmare. Over time, it changed into an act he craved, just as long as it was with the right person.
Kira’s fingers curled inside of him and pressed up against his prostate insistently. He shouted – his mind spiraling in a haze of grinding down to get closer, and twisting away to try and keep his wits about him. But he couldn’t move, and instead of his mind falling to panic, all he felt was—
“Darling,” Kira’s voice purred around him before she slipped in another finger—four. “You’re doing so well.” She pumped her fingers in and out of him, the sound bringing a furious blush to Finstock’s cheeks. Her breath was hot against his cock and when she spoke her tongue lightly brushed against his erection. “Come, sweetheart.”
He obeyed her. He fell to pieces under her fingers and tongue, his release painting his chest. He couldn’t hear himself, he knew he babbled, but had no idea what was pouring out of his mouth. The thing about blindfolds was that it was hard to keep track of whether or not he blacked out. His heartbeat was a steady thrum, hypnotizing him until he regained awareness of his limbs and mouth.
She was grinding on his thigh and Finstock felt lightheaded, she was soaked. She wanted this just as much as him, maybe even more. His cock throbbed and Christ he was hard. Again.
She got up and Finstock whined, wordless and desperate.
“I know, baby.” Her voice shook and he heard her open her drawer. “I know, I’m right here, okay?” Finstock held his breath, listening to the sound of straps sliding against her skin and her soft gasp when she tightened it against her. “Breathe, sweetheart.”
He did, the air sweet in his lungs. She tugged on the restraints and freed his hands and ankles. She kept her hands on his hips.
“Turn over for me, Bobby. Keep your hands above your head.”
He turned over and let out a long whine when Kira’s lips touched the back of his neck. She started slow, barely using her teeth as she trailed down his vertebrae. Every breath that fanned out over his wet skin made him shudder, his thighs spreading and she chuckled, breathy and light. She gripped his hips firmly and slowly pushed her strap-on inside of him.
The familiar feeling of silicon sent fiery sparks down his spine to his toes.
She was going too slow, her own breath was trembling in her chest and Finstock didn’t want to wait. He bit out some half-formed growl and shoved back against her. He heard Kira’s shocked inhale, her grip tightening as she was sheathed fully inside of him.
“Please.” Finstock managed the one word, the only semblance of language he had left. Kira didn’t move and Finstock’s body burned. “Please.”
She shivered, he felt her soft legs against his right before she pulled out and set a brutal pace. She spoke in frenzied bursts, and Finstock could barely keep track of her words—and lost any hope once her soft hand closed around his cock.
Funny, how perspectives changed. Before Beacon Hills Finstock kept his sex traditional and infrequent. It was pleasant and his partners always had a good time.
He was filthy. He vaguely felt the rest of the rope fall away from him and shaking hands guide him onto his back. The clasps to his blindfold snapped free. When he opened his eyes Kira grinned down at him. His skin was numb and enough of his awareness came back to feel her on his chest. He flopped his hand limply to the side and winked.
“Get up here and sit on my face.”
Kira shrieked with laughter, her face red despite everything they’d done. Finstock grinned with her laughing as she guided his hands to her hips so he could help pull her to him.
It was impossible to say that there was one best thing about Bobby. Narrowing down the list was impossible, at least, to Kira. Peter had no problem complaining about her baker’s personality, sense of humor, and wild hair. But Kira—Kira didn’t want to narrow it down, she wanted to keep the list growing.
She woke on his lap on the porch. It wasn’t dawn though hints of light crept along the horizon. She leaned back against him and smiled when he adjusted the blankets around her to keep away the winter chill.
Finstock drawled in his blown out, raspy voice. Kira tilted her head up so she could kiss his jaw.
His hands folded over her stomach and held her close. Their breaths puffed out in the hushed morning air.
Kira asked Peter about when he knew that Stiles was it, the end of the line, the perfect partner. Peter Hale was not a romantic in any sense and in all the years that Kira had known him, the Hale Second valued cold logic above all else. But she’d been curious and not just about him. Judging by his sly smirk, Peter had seen right through her.
I knew when I could no longer deny it.
She threaded their fingers together. The sun lit up the morning dew and Kira was tired of holding the last bit of her affection back. She squeezed Bobby’s hands and Finstock sat forward a bit, ducking his head down a bit with a questioning hum.
Peter said that admitting to it, to put his heart in Stiles’s hands to do what he wished with it—had been one of the most terrifying moments of his life.
Kira’s heart beat wildly. She was tired of holding back her affection, there was just one more piece left before Bobby would finally understand just how deep he’d cut into her.
She reached up and brushed her fingers over his forehead, over the concerned wrinkles in his brow. She breathed in quick and she knew she’d finally confessed out loud when his body went slack—
After five heartbeats, she felt his smile against her neck.