White Rabbits

For as exciting as meeting the Brothers was, I really did feel a bit like Alice, tumbling down the rabbit hole.  Eat me.  Drink me.  Fuck me.  My head was spinning.  Sisters in the Ladies room.  Brothers in the bar.  Rules and secrets and visits and different men all wearing the same face.  The world had gone mad.  All it lacked was the white rabbit.  It was complete and utter nonsense.

Oh, Diary, but what glorious nonsense it was. 

I didn't stay with them long.  In truth, I barely finished the drink Bud got me before I slipped away.  It was all too much, too fast.  And truthfully, it was hard watching all the couples.  Ann on Jack's lap.  Cort's fingers laced with Izzy's under the table.  Hando's palm resting lightly on Teener's neck.  Terry's fingers gently caressing the small of Uma's back.  The other couples, all cuddled together in similar affectionate positions.  It wasn't that I was jealous, exactly.  More like I felt out of place without someone I loved as deeply at my side.

I found a seat in a secluded corner a short distance from the bar and settled in.  My head was still spinning, although I'm sure it had more to do with meeting the Brothers than it did with the drink I'd just hastily finished.  I rested there with my eyes closed for a few minutes while I attempted to absorb everything that had just happened.  Well, at least I tried to until an unmistakable voice jolted me from my reverie.

Hando was with Teener just outside the bar.  She was on her cell and he was leaning against the wall, scowling as he watched her pace back and forth.  The more Teener nodded the darker the look on his face got.  It looked to me like she was already running damage control even before she'd even finished tossing the phone back in her purse.

"H, it's a crisis.  I have to go."

"Fuckin' clients," he uncrossed his arms and reached for her, abruptly stopping her nervous pacing.  "You're gonna make yourself mental, Teen.  Fuck, you're half there already.  You're not even home yet.  Christ.  Tell 'em to piss off."

"You know I can't do that."

He made a sound of disgust.  "This is your vacation."  And then more quietly, "This is our vacation."

Before either of them could say anything else, Dino showed up, cell phone in hand, looking apologetic, but with his business face on.  "Office just called.  You handling this one, hermana?"  At Teener's nod, he added, "Need any help or are you good to go?"

"I'm good.  Just gonna get my flight switched and I'm out of here."  I noticed that while her words were light, she was holding on to Hando's hand like a lifeline. 

Dino gave her a concerned look.  "You OK?"

Hando pulled her closer and answered for her.  "She's fine, mate."  He gave Dino that wicked smile he has.  "Now piss off already.  I don't need a fuckin' audience to tell my woman goodbye."

Teener laughed as Dino rolled his eyes and disappeared back into the bar.  The minute Dino was gone; the uneasy look was back on Hando's face.  "You sure 'bout this, love?"  I saw her nod.  Hando sighed heavily and then shrugged once before one corner of his mouth turned up.  "You're a stubborn bint."  He tweaked the tip of her breast playfully and she smacked his arm away, smiling.

She was still grinning when he hauled her against him.  "Fuck it.  If you're really going, then I'll have a proper goodbye."  He pulled her hips tight against his and kissed her, paying no mind to anyone or anything else going on around them.  The kiss wasn't sweet or gentle.  It was rough and wild.  A claiming more than a goodbye, really.  They parted without words and a moment later, I'd lost her in the crowd.

I looked back to the bar and my eyes widened when I saw Hando still in the same position, head cocked, watching me.  I felt like someone had sucked all the air from the room.  And then he smiled.

In challenge.

I felt sweat prickle at the small of my back.  As fate would have it, my mind chose that exact moment to remind me he'd offered me the chance to come stay at his house and see his new shop.  If I had the guts.  Now, Diary, I'd be lying if I said I hadn't considered the idea.  I knew he'd never been called on to be the first Brother to initiate one of us.  The idea excited me, but Hando on his own turf?  I just didn't think I was ready for that. 

I'm not quite sure I've the words to make you understand.  To see him in his film is one thing.  Actually exchanging words with him is quite another.  But those things pale in comparison to his actual physical presence.  It's the same with all the Brothers.  They're so much... more... in person.  Imagination replaced by reality.  You can smell them, Diary.  Feel their body heat.  See the pulse beating at the hollow of their throats.  Hear that smoky sweet voice rasp over you.  All of them, they exude this raw masculinity, this power. 

It's intoxicating.  

The same man created them all, and yet, they are all so very different.  That power is there in every last one of them, but in each man it is unique.  In some it's leashed, harnessed, carefully controlled.  In others it's hidden, seething there just under the surface.  Some of them wear it as comfortably as other men wear clothes.  Others wear it like armor.   

Hando does.  It radiates from him palpably.  More to the point, he knows his own power.  He also knows what that power does to women.  It's as intimidating as it is compelling and even now, as I held his eyes, I felt it.  He returned my stare a few seconds longer and then the moment passed.  He smiled because he knew he'd won.  He'd issued a challenge he knew I was too scared to meet. 

I was angry with myself and I grew angrier still as he gave me this look of disappointment, like he'd expected more of me after all that had been said between us in chat, and then he disappeared back into the dim light of the bar without so much as a backwards glance. 

You know, to tell the truth, Diary, I was disappointed with myself.  

I checked my watch and decided that since I had several hours to kill before I caught my flight, I might as well make the most of it.  I hunted up a Starbucks, laughing to myself when I realized the kiosk was just across from where the flights from SeaTac landed.  Coffee in hand, I made my way back to the little corner I'd claimed and pulled my laptop from my carryon. 

You know, Diary, it's odd that I even brought it along.  I always travel light... a few clothes and toiletries, my ID, my sketchbook and a small palette of paints and now you.  I hadn't touched the thing in nearly two weeks but I was sure glad I had it now.  Damn, I love technology.  I fired that baby up and just like Izzy said, I found a message waiting for me.

Well, well.  I guess that white rabbit was here after all.

One click and I was away, tumbling down the rabbit hole.  It was all just so much... and then I found the list of cruise diaries.  Dear God!  Three hours gone in the blink of an eye.  The next thing I knew, I was sniffing back the tears and blinking up as a shadow fell over me.

"You OK?"  I glanced up to find Bud crouched before me, a concerned look on his face.  

"You gave her a ring."  His brows drew together in confusion at my non-answer.  "I just read-"

Surprise widened his eyes briefly.  "You're all teary over that?"

I nodded.  "You know how I feel about you guys.  About the locket and-"

"Aw, honey, c'mere."  He set aside my laptop and pulled me in for a hug before moving so he was in my chair and I was on his lap, cuddled against his chest.  I relaxed against him, enjoying the feel of his strong arms around me.  I smiled against his neck.  He smelled like warm man.  And a woman's perfume.

"Where is she?"  I lifted my head and looked around.

"Ladies room.  Fixing her face."  His tone was odd, but I didn't know him well enough to tell if it was smug or guilty or both. 

My eyes came to rest on the clock displayed on the monitor along with the schedule of departing flights.  I shot him a look.  "Hey, didn't your plane leave ten minutes ago?" 

There was a long pause.  "Yeah.  It did."  Oh Diary, he blushed.  Faintly.  It was adorable... and so very un-Bud like.

I just couldn't resist teasing him.  "Why, Officer White, how irresponsible of you missing your flight like that."  

This time there was no color in his cheeks, only a very male smile of satisfaction.  "It wasn't my fault."

Yeah, I'll just bet it was.  "Uh-huh."  He grinned wider and absently fit me a little closer against him.  It wasn't at all sexual.  I think it might have been at another time, but his big body was slack under mine.  He was a man clearly in the throws of post-orgasm lethargy.  Even though I wasn't the one who had caused it, sharing the moment with him was still nice.  A little weird, but nice all the same.

He closed his eyes and sighed happily.  I couldn't help but smile.  "Bud, can I ask you something?"

He didn't open his eyes.  "Sure.  Fire away."

"Why the ring?"  His eyes snapped opened abruptly.  "Well, I know why, I mean why then?  Why that moment?"

"Don't know.  I wanted to do it for a long time."  He gave me this really intense look.  I could tell he was deciding how much he wanted to say.  He's not generally a share his feelings kind of guy, much less with a stranger, even if I was a Sister.  Still, I think what I'd told him about the locket made him share a bit more with me than he might have otherwise.  "When I saw it, it just seemed... right, I guess."  His eyes said it was a hell of a lot more than that.  "You know, seize the day and all that shit."  He smiled.   

"Thanks, Bud."  I kissed his cheek; aware he was done discussing the matter.  

"Any time," he stood and gave me a kiss.  "Sorry, but I've got to go.  A certain someone will have my ass if we miss another flight."  We both chuckled as he turned to go.  He stopped and looked back over his shoulder.  "Oh, and I'm adding to our list.  Your hair, wear it up for me, huh?  I want to take it down myself."  God, I think I shivered all the way to my toes.

Damn.  Now that's a man, Diary.  

He didn't even look back for my reaction.  As I watched him walk away, his words played over in my mind.  No, not those words.  Well, OK, those words too.  Come on.  A woman would have to be dead for that kind of request not to affect her.  Still, it wasn't those words my mind had latched onto.  It was what he'd said before that.  Seize the day.

I intended to do just that.   

I flipped open my laptop and my fingers flew over the keys.  My heart was pounding out of my chest as I finished the last of it and hit 'post' making what I was about to do official.  I checked my watch and flew into a bit of a panic.  Shit.  Twenty-seven minutes.  It may seem like a long time, but with today's flying restrictions, I knew I'd be cutting it close. 

I hauled ass to the ticket counter.  Most of the passengers were already boarded, including the one I was interested in getting to know better.  A lot better.  I didn't even blink an eye at the exorbitant sum they wanted for switching my ticket and rerouting my luggage. 

And you know what?  The look on Hando's face as I slipped into the vacant seat next to him was worth every damn penny.           

The Looking Glass

I'm not altogether sure how I get myself into these things, Diary.  Bud's words?  Well, they were the impetus that got me on the plane, but I really hadn't given much thought to what would come after that.  I'm forever doing this sort of thing.  I think through one stage of the plan well enough to make a leap with something resembling confidence, only to find myself in a quandary about what to do once I've landed.  This time was no different.

Oh, I got my wish.  Hando was most definitely surprised when I slipped by him and settled into the window seat directly to his left.  His eyes widened in stunned disbelief for all of about half a second before whatever else he might have been feeling was quickly hidden as his normal guarded expression slammed firmly back into place.  Still, even a moment of Hando without his mask is more than most people get.  I was feeling decidedly pleased with myself.

Until he smiled.

Predatory is far too tame a word for the look he turned on me in that moment.  I had the sudden sense of being treed.  All that was lacking was the baying of the hounds.  My heart jumped into my throat.  Trapped.  I felt trapped.  Seat to my back.  Seat to my front.  A very unforgiving wall with too small a window to my left and to the right?  The imposing presence of one very dangerous man.  A man I'd just purposefully provoked.  God, Diary, am I insane?! 

A couple of minutes ticked by.  I watched him.  He watched me, smiling at me all the while because he intimidated me and he knew it.  "Fireball."  He acknowledged me with a single word and an almost imperceptible nod.  The greeting was slow.  Almost lazy.  And frightfully at odds with the intense look in his eyes.  His gaze came to rest on my laptop and then slid slowly back to mine.  Looking at me with that way he has, eyes just catching mine though the fringe of his lashes.  His eyebrow lifted.  "You make this official?"

I understood the real question in his question.  He caught a lot of shit from the other Brothers about how he treated the Sisters when they were with him and he knew there'd be hell to pay if he put his hands on a new Sister without me having asked for it first.  Even so, I could see him weighing the options, trying to decide if doing what he wanted was worth suffering the consequence that came with it if I told him no.

Truly, I didn't mean to be coy by not answering him directly, it was just that it was such a surreal moment.  The hubbub of the surrounding passengers as they filed in and stowed their luggage.  The muffled clanks from the galley as the stewardesses prepared preflight drinks.  The softness of the chair under me.  The hardness of the man next to me.  The tattoo at his throat jumping out at me.

Skinhead.

Such hate.  Such power.  I was suddenly reminded that although this was the Game, it wasn't a really game at all.  The man beside me was very real, very intent and a hell of a lot stronger than I was.  Somewhere inside me I knew he'd never hurt a Sister.  Not really... but I also think I'd somehow deluded myself into believing that the Hando I'd asked for was some watered-down caricature of the man I'd seen in the film.  That he wasn't the same man who'd enjoyed beating people to a bloody pulp.  That he hadn't really intended to choke the life from a woman on some deserted stretch of sand.  And for all the fantasizing I'd done about his tattoos, seeing that ugly word emblazoned across his throat hit me hard, like a sharp slap to the face.  This man wasn't a caricature.  And he was by no means tame. 

I was so screwed.  

He shifted in his seat, coming around to face me more fully and I couldn't help but notice how much sheer space he seemed to take up.  The close confines of the airline seats and the low ceiling of the cabin only seemed to heighten the effect.  That trapped feeling got worse.  His gaze flicked from my mouth down to my breasts and then back up to my eyes.  He looked... hungry.  I shivered.  His dark grin faded and this time when he spoke the words were low and intense.  "Are we official?  Yes or no, love."  He paused at my silence.  "Don't make me ask again."

For all my previous bravado, I only nodded, not trusting my voice to come out as anything more than a pathetic squeak at that point. 

He flashed me a wicked grin.  It was all the warning I got.  A second later his large hand was wrapped firmly around my throat.  Not squeezing hard enough to cut off my air, not even squeezing hard enough to leave a mark, but it was damn sure hard enough for me to feel the latent power thrumming in him, reminding me he could do both of those things - easily - if he so desired.  I could feel my pulse beating wildly against his palm and with each throb I could feel myself grow wetter. 

I wondered how on earth I could have misread him so completely.  In chat he'd been so reserved with me that I had commented on it.  He'd told me he was trying to be a gentleman, that he didn't want to scare me away.  That he'd only treated some of the other Sisters the way he had because he knew he could get away with it.

He moved closer still and growled in my ear, "Bet that little brain of yours is wondering where the gentleman is now, isn't it?"  He pulled back enough so he could look in my wide eyes.  "I don't have to worry about scaring you now, fireball."  He spared the cabin a glance.  "No place for you to run."

He let the words hang between us for a few agonizing moments before he dropped his hand from my throat and burst out laughing.  "Jesus, you're easy, love."  His eyes glittered playfully at my stunned expression.  "You should have seen the look on your face."  His shoulders were shaking with mirth.  

Recovering my composure, I shot him a dirty look and smacked his arm.  He only laughed harder.  For as wound up as he'd just made me, I couldn't help but notice he had a nice laugh, full-throated and husky.  It traveled.  Several heads turned in our direction.  Hando couldn't have cared less.  He was clearly enjoying his little joke.  His amusement was infectious and I smiled in spite of myself.  "That was not at all nice."  God, I'm weak.  I couldn't even make myself sound annoyed by his antics.

He shrugged and settled back into his seat, still smiling.  "Neither is what you did to me."  True.  I wanted a glimpse of the man without the mask.  Having him reveal it in a moment of trust is one thing.  Catching him off guard is quite another and we both knew it.    

"You'd rather I hadn't come then?"  Of course, I knew the answer to that already.  Just as he did.  I arched an eyebrow at him anyway, knowing I was pushing my luck but unable to keep from goading him.  Really, we were stuck on a plane.  What more could he do to me here? 

See, Diary?  There's that leaping again.  I wasn't thinking about what might happen once we got off the plane.  But then again, what woman could think clearly with a man like that putting his hands on her?  And besides, teasing him was fun. 

He turned on a dime.  No playful amusement in his face now.  "You'd rather I kept my hands off that pretty little throat of yours then?"  I think I might have winced, knowing the answer to his question was the same as the one I'd just asked him.  His eyes said he knew damn well what his little game had done to me.  Without preamble, he leaned in and put his lips to my ear.  "Mmmm....  I can smell you, y'know."  Oh.  My.  God. 

The sex voice.  

I'd heard the others talking about it, but I'd never before experienced it.  It was raspy and low and dirty, but not in a nasty way that made you feel bad or wrong.  It was dirty in a way that made you want to cast aside all your inhibitions and just revel in what it made you feel.

He chuckled darkly in my ear.  His breath was warm against my skin and tickled the sensitive flesh of my throat.  "You don't fool me, love.  You'd be on your knees in fronta me in a fuckin' minute if we were alone."  Crass, but not entirely outside the realm of possibilities.  I squirmed in my seat and sucked in a sharp breath as my mind supplied the images to accompany his crude words.

Hando sucked in a deep breath of his own when my eyes dropped to his lap.  His reaction seemed a bit extreme until I realized I'd just unconsciously wet my lips in anticipation of that imagined intimacy. 

A feminine throat cleared above us.  "Excuse me, sir."  Hando waited far, far more time than was appropriate by any stretch of the imagination to remove his lips from the vicinity my ear and turn to face her.  His body language made it very apparent exactly what he thought of her interruption.  Still, in the grand tradition of stewardess everywhere, she soldiered on.  "Would you or the lady care for a drink?"

Ah, bless her.  I don't know about Hando, but I could sure as hell use one.  It also gave me a chance to recover my scattered wits.  God, that voice of his.  Had he kept going, I'm sure he'd have talked me to orgasm right there in the middle of the first class cabin.  An interesting fantasy, but not one I was eager to experience without at least having some prior history with the man in question, you know? 

Satisfied he'd made his point (and quite succinctly, I might add) after our drinks came he seemed content just to talk.  This was the Hando I knew from our chats, intelligent, witty, crude but honest and beyond audacious.  To be honest, it didn't surprise me we got on well together, at least when he let me relate to him this way, like a good mate instead of a potential lover.  (Even though I think that was always somewhere in the back of both our minds.)  Our politics might be vastly different, but both of us approach the world in very similar ways.  And at heart, I think we're more alike than is readily apparent.  We both have the soul of a dreamer trapped inside a realist's mind.        

There are gender differences, of course, and we've been shaped by our life's experiences but on some basic level, I think we understand each other.  And for all my impetuousness in choosing this moment to be with him, choosing him was never something I took lightly.  And don't think I didn't get my share of warnings.  I might not have been a Sister yet but I had been chatting with everyone for a while and when they heard who I was considering to be my first, everyone had something to say.  Watch your step.  Choose wisely.        

The first cut's always the deepest.

Bud's words again, Diary.  He seems to be making a habit out of that.  I wonder if it means anything?  In any case, if anyone was going to see me bleed, I wanted it to be Hando.  I suppose that probably sounds strange, but it makes an odd sort of sense.  Or at least it does in my own mind. 

I chose him to be the first for lots of reasons, and not just the ones you're probably thinking of, Diary.  Part of it was that I trusted him not to hurt me.  Part of it was that the Game scared me and I purposefully chose a Brother who was more comfortable sharing the physical than the emotional.  He's far more guarded than even I am in that respect, but I think that deep down we're both equally protective of our secret heart. 

If all that wasn't enough to sway me, he offered to let me come stay at his house.  He dressed it up in a crude invitation about christening his shop, but deep down, I knew he was proud of what he built and he wanted to share it with someone who'd understand.  He'd never speak the words aloud, but I heard them well enough.  I think a part of it was also that unlike most of the other Sisters, we had no history. 

Blank pages, Diary.

I had no illusions.  He wasn't about to remove his mask for me any more than I was for him, but because we had no history, he had the freedom to shape it differently if he so desired.  To show me a different face.  And I think, honestly, that he wanted that very much.  Make no mistake.  He'll still always be Hando.  He's never going to lose that edge, that air of malevolence we Sisters find so appealing, but he's also changing.  Maturing.  I think he was ready to let us see a little more of his private self.  The man behind the mask.  And he trusted me enough to invite me into his home so that I might share it with my Sisters in your pages, Diary. 

There is one last reason.  It's not pretty and it's not selfless.  Put simply, I know I can be as uninhibited as I want with him and he will never judge me for it.  His lack of inhibitions leaves me free to cast aside my own.  I don't have to be the good girl with him.  In fact, I don't have to be anything.  What's more, he's a strong enough partner that I can simply give myself over to him and know that he'll lead me the places I am afraid to go myself.  I need that, Diary.  Especially this first time. 

Quite simply, Hando is my catharsis.  He is every time I said no.  Every impulse I ever curbed.  Every man I wanted and didn't throw myself after.  Every invitation I ever turned down.  Every time I went home alone when what I ached for was there for the taking. 

The first cut is always the deepest.  

But didn't want him to cut me, Diary.  I wanted him to cleave me in two.  

Wonderland

It was pitch black outside by the time we pulled into the drive.  Neither of us spoke much on the ride home, partly because we were tired and partly because we were a little apprehensive knowing we'd both be revealing more than we were comfortable with before the night was over.  Still, the silence wasn't uneasy.  It was sort of electric, like that strange fluttery apprehension you get when you know if you touch someone you're going to get a shock.  Hando had no doubt realized how much his home would reveal about the man under the mask and I'd realized that the easy camaraderie we shared earlier was fading as we negotiated that uncertain ground between tentative friends and potential lovers. 

He popped the locks on the doors and glanced over at me, his wary look now replaced with amusement as we got out of the Jeep and grabbed our bags.  "You're not afraid of dogs, are ya?"

He already knew I wasn't so I figured the question was probably his way of warning me.  I was right.  The front door of the house opened and the largest dog I've ever seen in my life came barreling out, barking excitedly as only a dog who's been missing her master can.  Deke didn't even give me so much as a sniff before she collided with Hando in a mass of wagging tail and exuberant bounding.  Hando kept his feet, but only just as he reached down and buried his hands in Deke's fur before giving the massive Irish wolfhound a playfully rough shake.  For a brief moment, I might as well have been on another planet.  I smiled to myself.  It was clear the master had missed his dog equally as much.  It was a bit odd seeing Hando express such unguarded affection.  Odd, but nice. 

"Missed me, did ya, mutt?"  The roughhousing continued, as did a stream of Hando's comments, peppered here and there with good-natured curses.  The more he talked the more she bounced.  "Oi, watch the bollocks, girl."  Hando pushed Deke away from his groin and flashed me a wicked leer.  "I'm gonna need those later."  He shouted a greeting to the man in the doorway and turned back to me.  "So, whaddaya think of my dog?"  Honestly, my first thought after I'd noted the obvious affection between the two was 'Dear Lord, who's the sorry bastard who has to clean up after her in the yard?'  That was one damn big dog. 

I grinned at him.  "I like her.  She hasn't goosed me yet."  That got me a chuckle.  Happy to have found a way through the awkwardness, I grinned wider.  "And I think it's a damn good thing you have access to a nearly limitless supply of cash.  I can't imagine how much food a dog like that must eat!  She's got to weigh nearly as much as I do."

Hando looked me up and down and then shook his head.  "Deke weighs a good stone more than you do, love."  As if to demonstrate, he grabbed me up, wrapped my legs around his waist and spun me around with reckless abandon while Deke circled us, barking excitedly at her master's odd behavior.  The full body contact was electric.  It had nothing to do with kindred spirits or tentative friendships and everything to do with female responding to male.  In an instant the tension was back, arcing wildly between us. 

It was the first time he'd touched me since he'd put his hand on my throat.  I gasped sharply and then immediately bit my lip, knowing I'd just given away far too much.  Smiling knowingly, Hando stopped our wild flight abruptly and stood stock still, big hands grabbing hard and pressing me in tight so I could feel the heavy bulge between his legs grow hard and thick against the seam of my jeans.  

After an impossibly long moment, he dropped my legs but continued to hold me to him with that wildly powerful way he has.  The way he does it - it's very much about him and his pleasure and what he wants... but oh, Diary, it's so very, very good.  His physicality is overwhelming and yet empowering in a strange way, like your femininity is heightened all the more for being contrasted so sharply with a force so primally, unapologetically male.  What's more, he isn't afraid to show you what it does to him.  To his body.   

With a playful growl he attacked me, biting my neck, licking me, manhandling me with his larger, heavier body in this wild rush as he pushed me up against the door of the Jeep.  I had the oddest sense he was welcoming me the way Deke had just welcomed him.  I shrieked and pushed at him, all the while enjoying his playful roughhousing.  It was like he was giving me a small taste of how things would be later.       

The porch light flicked on.  "Christ, mate.  How many times do I have to tell you, this is a nice neighborhood.  You can't go about rooting sheilas in the front drive."  The light made it hard to see, but I could make out Colin's familiar sideburns.  I snickered.    

"Get stuffed, y'cunt," Hando returned the dry comment with an equal measure good cheer as he stepped away from me and grabbed our bags, jerking his head in the direction of the door in invitation as he started up the walk. 

As Hando came into the small circle of light near the porch, Colin smiled that slow lazy smile he has.  "Nice tan, whitey."  I smothered a laugh at the icy look Hando shot him.  Colin's eyes flicked to me and widened briefly.  Little wonder, I wasn't Teener and I wasn't a Sister he recognized.  Dom appeared at his shoulder a second later.

Hando played the moment for all it was worth.  God, he was worse than a child who'd just gotten some new toy he knew all his mates had been dying to get their hands on.  I fought down a blush.  Hmm... perhaps that analogy was a little close to the mark, eh Diary?

He grinned at the two of them.  "Damned good vacation.  Nice cabins.  Lotsa nearly naked Sisters.  Some bloody brilliant shagging.  Fuck, I even got to toss Cort's sorry arse over the rail."  Oh, Diary, he was shameless!  "Highlight of the fuckin' trip."  He dropped our bags in the entryway and made a show of pulling me to his side.  "Except for that bit when Izzy and the rest of those crazy bints dragged our newest little Sister here into the airport bar to meet us all while we were havin' a pint."  He gave a snort of disgust.  "Like we all couldn't fuckin' tell she was there anyway."  Two nods of agreement followed.  No surprise there.

For all Hando's showboating, it was clear there was affection between the three men.  No matter how buried it was by his caustic nature, it bled through his next words with crystal clarity.  "Heather," he acknowledged his friends with a sharp nod, "meet my good mates Colin and Dom."  We exchanged greetings - a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek from each of them and then Hando wrapped his arm around me and did that thing where he kind of molds you to his body.  I don't think he's even conscious he's doing it.  It's like this circuit switches over in him telling the primal part of his brain that the other males need to be reminded of his dominance and of his claim over the woman he's with.  

A knowing look passed between Dom and Colin, but it was Colin who spoke.  "You're Lachlyn, then?"  I nodded and Hando raised an eyebrow at him.  Colin grinned and shrugged.  "I don't live my whole life under a bloody car, mate."  Even Dom cracked a smile at that.

"Don't listen to these cunts."  Hando lifted his chin and met both their gazes.  "Oi, and you lot?  She's going to be staying with us a few days."  He didn't even have to look at me and I was blushing.  If Colin and Dom had been reading the boards, they knew what Hando had said to me about christening his shop.  Great.  I wished the floor would open up and swallow me.    

The corner of Colin's mouth twitched as he gave Hando an unreadable look.  "So, mate, you expect us to believe she had her pick of the lot and she came home with you?"  Oh yes, the boys were definitely enjoying a bit of payback.  "How in the bloody hell'd you manage that?  We're your mates and even we don't like you."  His eyes glittered with repressed amusement as he looked over at Dom.  "What do you think, Brother?  Nicked a bit of the solstice wine and slipped her some?"  

"Not bloody likely.  Bou'd rip his bollocks off if he so much as touched the stuff."  Dom pretended to look pensive.  "Hmm....  Heatstroke maybe?  Makes a sheila go a bit wonky, you know."  He was trying hard to keep a straight face. 

Colin looked me over and grunted.  "Must've."

"Or maybe I just like virgins."  Oh Diary, I just couldn't help myself.  Sometimes I just leap without any forethought at all.  Dom and Colin choked on their laugher until their eyes were wet while Hando's eyes gleamed with promise of retribution for my teasing little remark.  I laughed in spite of myself, but was thankful when the ringing of a telephone distracted everyone.  Dom went to get it while Colin excused himself, leaving me alone with Hando. 

Uh-oh.

"Go on, laugh it up, fireball."  He rubbed his stubbly chin against the soft skin of my throat, smiling as I shivered.  "I'll take my pound of flesh when I'm ready."  Oh God.  I felt my knees turn to jelly.  "And then we'll see which one of us is the real virgin."  The fluttery feeling low in my stomach spiked into full-blown arousal. 

There was a shout from the kitchen.  "It's for you, Hando.  It's Teen."  A shadow of something flickered in Hando's eyes; dark enough for us both to drop the game we'd been playing at.  I said nothing but gave him a push towards the kitchen, not that he needed one, mind you.  There was no way he'd have missed that call, but a small sliver of understanding passed between us just then before he released me and disappeared into the kitchen. 

I fidgeted a bit but couldn't keep from smiling when I heard his words.  "'Bout time you checked in, woman."  There was a pause.  "I do not."  I swallowed a giggle.  I could just imagine Teener telling him he sounded like a clucky mother hen.  That's so the kind of thing she'd say to him.  I heard the fridge open and shut, the snap-hiss of a beer being cracked and then Hando's voice again.  "Yeah, she's here."

Dom grinned at me.  "Just like Teen to know what's happening in this house before we do."  

Hando stuck his head out of the kitchen, phone pressed to one ear and a beer in his hand.  "Oi, mate.  Quit moonin' over the sheila and take our shit up to my room.  Get her settled."  I smiled inwardly at his autocratic tone.  I should have known there wouldn't be any discussion about where I slept.  While an automatic assumption that I'd be sharing a bed with someone I just met would have normally rubbed me the wrong way, in this case I was glad.  It's partly why I chose him.  So I wouldn't have to make any of those decisions myself... or accept any of the responsibility that came with them. 

Hando flashed me a grin.  "And you?  I know you're dying to suss the place out, fireball.  You bints are all the same that way."  He took a sip of his beer and waved his hand in the general direction of the rest of the house.  "Have the fuck at it.  Oh, and Colin and Dom's rooms are off limits, love.  This is my visit.  I catch you in either one and you'll be sorry."  He disappeared back into the kitchen.  I heard a growl.  "What?  Fuck.  Fine, I'll do it..."  I heard the scrape of a chair and then Hando's voice shout, "Hey, Heather.  Teen says to tell ya hi."

I shouted a greeting back, not wanting to intrude on his privacy as he talked with Teener.  Dom and I both laughed on the way up the stairs as we heard Hando telling Teener that he wasn't a 'Goddamn answering machine'. 

Dom got me sorted right enough, showed me the way to the restroom and pointed out where the towels were kept in case I wanted to make use of the shower.  He asked me how I took my tea, told me he'd bring me up a cup later and left me to get settled in.

While the idea of a long hot shower was tempting after a full day of traveling, it didn't hold a candle to getting to poke about the house of one of our most guarded Brothers.  Come on, you know you'd have felt the same!  So, you all know as well as I do what happened the moment Dom left... and it sure as hell didn't include unpacking my suitcase.  Well, I got as far as unzipping it before my curiosity got the better of me.  Bedrooms are such personal spaces and I was curious what Hando's would reveal about him. 

For a man so prone to violence, his personal space was surprisingly serene.  The walls were a soft gray color and lightly textured.  They had the look of old Italian plaster.  Subtle, but very high end.  Subdued lighting.  Oak floor with a beige rug to give the room a bit of warmth.  A big king sized bed with a heavy wrought iron frame.  Crisp white linens.  Dark gray coverlet.  Probably about a dozen pillows.  I smiled at the traces of dog hair at the foot of the bed.  Deke's preferred sleeping spot, no doubt.

I stepped out of my sandals and nudged them under the edge of the bed with my foot while I took in the rest of the room.  The walls were bare save for two wrought iron sconces holding large pillar candles in hurricane glass.  An antique roll-top desk dominated one wall, an armoire the other.  I suddenly realized that all the furniture I'd seen in the house so far had been antique.  Even though none of it matched, it didn't have that junky thrift store feel.  All of it, every last piece had that old world feel.  That sense of history that comes with real antiques... the kind that are a couple of hundred years old.  Cherished and meticulously cared for, but still not without a few dings and score marks from generations gone by.

Interesting, but not surprising really.  And quite revealing.  The man with no appreciable personal family history had surrounded himself with things that carried a rich sense of history all their own.  There was also something else.  Something that had been niggling at me since I first stepped through the bedroom door.  It came to me in a flash.  Cool watery gray.  Sandy beige.  Wood and simulated stone.  Not a single item in the room had anything to do with water and yet together, they reminded me of a cold desolate beach.  Very much like the one in his film. 

It was disturbing, Diary, given Hando's very vocal dislike for the ocean.  I know he'd never consciously have recreated that moment, but it's interesting where the subconscious can take you when given a blank canvas to work with.  Like, oh, say a new house to decorate. 

On that note, I left his room and wandered about the rest of the house.  Saw the new bedroom he'd told me he was in the process of building.  Both he and Teener had mentioned it to me.  It was to be a new start.  A place he was building just for them.  I couldn't help but smile when I saw it.  So far it was only framed out.  No walls yet but it was beginning to take shape.  Like a lot of things in his life, it seems.     

On a makeshift sawhorse table I saw the plans drawn out and labeled in Hando's blocky script.  I whistled softly.  Damn.  Teen was going to love it when he got it finished.  I smothered a smile.  I'd teased Hando about being organized but this was something else.  Blueprints.  Paint swatches.  Sketches of a window seat he wanted to build for her.  Plans to add an adjoining bathroom. 

There was an open file of pictures ripped out from various magazines; one or two with a pretty feminine scrawl penned across it and arrows pointing to particular items.  The page on top had a picture of a tastefully decorated bedroom.  The words "Haaaaaando, me likes!" were jotted across the corner and there was an arrow pointing to the mound of decorative pillows on the bed.  Underneath her writing, and clearly a note to himself, not a response to her thoughts, were the words:

Rocking chair??  

 

The minute I read the words I felt like I'd just intruded on something incredibly private.  It reminded me of something Hando had said recently about babies.  I left silently with a tight feeling in my chest. 

I scoped out the rest of the house, avoiding Dom and Colin's rooms as warned.  Got a good giggle over the bathroom.  It was functional but still in the process of being remodeled.  That's not what made me laugh, though.  It was the number of books in there.  It had built in shelves, like a library.  And in case you were wondering, no, I did not look in the medicine cabinet.  I may be curious but I'm not that nosey! 

From the hall I could hear Hando wrap up his conversation with Teener and then I heard Colin start to get him up to speed on what was going on with the shop.  I figured that'd probably take a while.  There are always a hundred details to attend to when you return home from vacation, even more so in this case because the shop's opening was just a few weeks away.

I left them to it and continued poking about.  Meandered through the living room.  It was tastefully decorated with the same clean lines and minimal clutter the rest of the house had.  It gave you the sense that Hando knew exactly what he wanted and that each item here had been meticulously chosen.  The warmth the antiques gave it kept it from feeling sterile but it was also clear he'd taken great care in crafting his personal space.  My eyes traveled over the rest of the room.  Well stocked bar.  Nice flat screen TV.  Plants everywhere, which didn't actually surprise me.  Even in that dump of a squat in his film had plants.  It makes sense that he'd have more of them in a permanent home.  So, Diary, another revelation.  Hando's got a green thumb. 

I wandered back through to the kitchen.  Very nice.  Clean and uncluttered.  Breakfast bar with stools at one end.  Professional grade range.  I grinned at all the stainless steel.  Sink.  Dishwasher.  Fridge.  The works.  My guess is that it was as much because he liked the look as it was for functionality.  Come on, three men living alone together?  Things made of metal no doubt held up better around here.  Hando was on the phone again, something about a custom paint job for a bike he was working on. 

He grinned when he saw me poking about and put his hand over the receiver.  "Might as well make yourself useful and get me another beer."  His eyes flashed wickedly.  "I'll take my pound of flesh later."  From the look on his face it was clear he knew he'd just made me uncomfortably wet.  I hid my blush in the fridge, which held the typical things you'd find in a household of men.  Beer.  Milk.  Bottles of catsup, mustard, mayo and ranch dressing.  Lots of red meat.  Something identifiable in Tupperware hidden in the back with Colin's name scrawled across it in black marker.  It was green and fuzzy.  I gave Hando his beer and wandered off again when he took it and waved me away with a frown.  He must not have cared for whatever it was the painter had to say.

I wandered back into the living room and noticed a short hallway I hadn't been down earlier.  Two doors.  Laundry room - more stainless steel appliances and a big industrial sized sink. Resting on the ledge was a can of Goop that had dirty fingerprints all over it on it and a bar of that green Lava soap men use to scour away the worst of the grime before they shower.  And as for the other door?  I had a feeling I knew what lay behind it.  I was right. 

Hando's shrine to the master race. 

Compared to the rest of the house, it was like stepping into a different world.  For as clean and uncluttered as the rest of the house was, this room looked like something out of Nash's dark past.  Clippings covered the walls.  Books littered the shelves.  There was a Nazi flag above the desk and large framed photos of Hitler and the impressive spectacle that was the Third Reich at the height of its power.  For as sick a bastard as Hitler was, he sure had an intricate understanding of how to inspire awe.  He was a master propagandist.  How else could he have brainwashed a nation into committing such barbarism? 

Looking around, I felt sick.  Such hate.  Such blind devotion.  It made me sad to think someone as intelligent as Hando had been indoctrinated into this way of thinking.  I've studied a lot of cultures over the years.  Learned a lot of things I found interesting because they were so different from my own thinking but even so, a great many of them had also made my skin crawl.  Still, anthropologists are taught to distance themselves.  Taught how to observe and learn without judging others based on our own moral standards. 

Honestly, I believe that's also a part of why Hando and I have the relationship we do.  He is surprisingly open with me when we chat.  More so than you might imagine.  He told me once that that he felt like I didn't judge him when we talked.  That neither Teener or I had ever tried to make him feel bad for the things he believed in.  It's not like he's trying to sway us to his way of thinking.  I don't even think he expects us to understand it.  It is enough that we respect his right to have his own opinion... even if both of us think he's completely mental.

I found it difficult mesh what I saw in this room with the man who so carefully constructed the environment in the rest of this house, and with the man who talked to me of lost children and new beginnings.  For as much as he's changed since he first joined the Game, for as much as he's matured, he will always be this Hando too.  Owning his own shop, anger management, therapy... all of that will never erase this.  It is ingrained too deeply.  And like I know Teener does, I can't help but wonder if I'd feel the same way about him if it could.

Cheshire Cats

As it happened, I was in the shower when Dom turned up with the tea.  He yelled through the door, in that charmingly graceless way young men have, that he'd leave it upstairs on Hando's desk for me.  On my way to the stairs, I noticed Hando had moved from the kitchen to the couch in the living room.  There was paperwork scattered all across the coffee table and I noticed he'd switched from beer to what looked like bourbon.

As if he could feel my eyes on him, he looked up and caught me staring.  He lifted his booted foot and propped it up on the edge of the coffee table as he gave my bare legs a good perve in return.  The worn denim shirt I'd thrown on after my shower suddenly didn't seem like it covered as much as I'd originally thought it did.  Or at least that's the way it felt under his intense gaze.  I was covered from my throat to my elbows to half way down my thighs and yet one look from him left me feeling more than just naked.  I felt exposed.

With deliberate slowness, Hando caught my eye and spread his legs to make room for the swelling between them.  He reached for his drink and then leaned back, holding my eyes while he cradled his drink in one hand and gave the growing bugle an unhurried stroke with the other.  The look of challenge was back in his eyes. 

"That's twice tonight, fireball."  

Three times, really, if you counted the erection I'd given him on the flight, but I wasn't about to argue.  My eyes darted to the kitchen and then over to the hall, hoping the others weren't around to witness this little exchange.

Hando grinned at my unease, aware I was uncomfortable but equally aware I couldn't take my eyes off what he was doing to himself.  He rubbed again, a slow heavy stroke of his palm on the way down and then a lighter touch with his fingers on the way back up.  His head dropped to the back of the couch and I saw his fingers tighten on the glass he was holding.  I watched the muscles in his forearm bunch and flex and he pleasured himself, sucking in a deep breath when I realized what he was doing.  He was trying to see if he could make me come to him.  To see if he could wind me up enough to make my arousal override my unease over the possibility of getting caught.

I hovered on the step, knowing if I gave in, if I went to him, what would happen.  Any lingering resistance I had would be over the second he put his hands on me... and that really wasn't something I wanted to share with either Dom or Colin.  But, God, watching him?  My legs had gone all quivery and the tingle between them had deepened to a dull, wet throbbing.  I tightened my fingers on the banister for support as well as something to anchor myself to.  Something to keep me from going to him. 

As if Hando sensed me wavering, he intensified his show, hips rocking slowly now in time with the rhythm of his hand.  His fingers were more focused now, lingering where it felt best.  Big rough pad of his thumb on that sweet spot just below the head.  Flicking.  Rubbing.  Making that small wet circle on his jeans grow.  Making me burn for him.

He stopped the second I began to move off the stair, the second he knew I'd given in to him.  It made me mad.  It made me hot.  I was a mass of confliction emotions.  Irritation.  Anger... that soon gave way to disappointment when I realized he was only playing with me.  Frustration.  I was wet and needy, wanting to feel him inside me so badly I ached with it.

He read them all, each emotion as it played across my face.  I wanted to slap him.  He read that one too, apparently, and smiled knowingly at me.  "Later, baby.  I have work to do."  He took another sip from his glass and reached for one of the papers on the coffee table.  While it was true he probably did have a mountain of things that needed to get done, this wasn't about work.  It was about power.  About denying me something he'd made me want. 

His eyes dropped to the page in his hand and then looked back up at me through his lashes.  "Jesus, this country and all its fuckin' red tape."  He tossed the pages back down.  "Could take me an hour or more to figure all this shit out."  There was teasing in his voice but also an edge of truth.  Some distant part of me wondered if all this hadn't been a different game entirely.  Maybe he just didn't want me to go back to my Sisters talking about how the impulsive Sex God had put responsibility before pleasure. 

No, I don't imagine he'd care to have that announced.  

Sometimes I think he thinks we only want him to play a part for us.  That we are only interested in the sexual, animal side of his nature.  That all we want from him is someone who isn't embarrassed to be so openly unapologetically dominant, to tell us to get on our knees and suck him or to order us into whichever position he's in the mood for.  That he'll lose that dark edge we all find so compelling if he lets us see he's more than just good hard fuck with someone bad.  He's no more just a good time with someone bad than Maximus is just a soldier or Bud is just a cop or Terry is just a savvy negotiator. 

But he's also still Hando and I expect at least part of this little game of his had been about power.  He knows as well as I do that by fanning the flames and then banking them, I'll only be that much more desperate for him when he finally does decide to take me.  Another revelation, Diary.  I think for Hando, it's not so much about the chase as it is about the give and take of power.  Make no mistake, he wants to be the dominant partner, but he wants to have to work for it.                

I left before he could tell me to go, knowing he'd notice I was taking a bit of that power back by denying him the opportunity to give me an order.  I smiled on my way up the stairs, thinking how much I was going to enjoy his retribution for my defiance.   

Upstairs, I found the tea where Dom said he would leave it.  It was a bit tepid, but good all the same.  I nibbled the sweet lemon biscuits he'd left with it while I puttered about.  The wait was making me crazy, just as Hando knew it would.  I unpacked, but that hardly took any time at all.  I tried to read but couldn't concentrate.  I thought about lying down but the sheets and pillows held Hando's scent and that only served to heighten my awareness.  In the end, I settled for the one thing that I can always lose myself in, and I smiled to the empty room as I pulled my watercolors from my bag. 

Jabberwocky 

I didn't even hear the door open.  Lost in that place I go when I paint, I didn't notice Hando standing beside me until he spoke.

"S'wrong."

I nearly jumped out of my skin.  My head whipped around toward the low, raspy voice and I gasped, my brush forgotten in my fingertips.  He was, in a word, magnificent.  Naked, save for a white towel wrapped low around his lean hips.  Skin still damp from his recent shower.  A few last droplets of water glittered in his lashes.  God, I could smell him.  Soap and man and something uniquely Hando.  Desire fluttered to life low in my belly.   

He looked from my face back to the piece I was fooling with.  It was of him.  Sort of a blending of the real Hando and my memories of him from the film.  I had the face right, the pride in the lift if his chin, the defiant fire in his eyes.  The body wasn't right though.  I couldn't recall his tattoos from memory and I hadn't seen his bare chest until just this moment.  Without a point of reference, the best I could do was block color in lightly where I remembered his tattoos being. 

Hando pointed a long thick finger at the painting.  "That's wrong."  I wondered if he was aware his other hand was absently touching the cross on his chest.  He was so close I could feel the heat of his big body.  Without warning, he dipped his outstretched finger into the black paint and reached purposefully toward the paper.

"Don't!"  I yelped.  I sucked in a deep breath.  "Please... don't."  

His eyes swung to mine and I could see heat flare in them as he realized he'd just found a weakness of mine.  A button he could push.  I suppose that's fair though.  I know a few of his buttons too.

There was a low, gravelly laugh deep in his throat as his finger moved closer to the paper.  Almost touching... but not quite.  "Would you beg me?"

I might if it was a serious piece, but I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.  I refused to answer, but he read it in my eyes well enough.  Try me. 

He mulled that over a moment and then grinned darkly.  The fire in his eyes burned brighter.  He reached for me instead, grabbed my chin firmly in his hand, forced my eyes to his and then left a wet smear of black along my jaw as he released me.  He grunted in satisfaction as he looked at my marked flesh and then raised an eyebrow as he looked at his finger.

"This permanent?"

I wanted to laugh.  Typical Hando to ask that after he'd wiped it on me.  "No, it's only watercolor."  I grabbed the napkin I'd been using for a rag, dipped in the water and wiped the cold smear of paint from my skin and then reluctantly from the tip of his finger... but only after he'd given me a look that told me I'd be sorry if I didn't.   

He cocked his head and stared at me.  "I liked you better with my mark on you."  A low dirty laugh rumbled in his chest.  "Nothing for that now except to mark you again."  His hand shot out and twined in the hair at the nape of my neck, twisting the heavy fall around his fist as he used it to pull me up from the chair.  I thought for a second he was going to shove me to my knees right then, but instead he pulled me to him, wrapped his other arm around my back to secure me to his body and kissed me.  Hard.

The world spun crazily.  I remember thinking how oddly exciting it felt.  I'd never been kissed by a man with a beard before.  Warm insistent lips contrasting sharply with the scratchy-soft hair around his mouth.  I couldn't get enough of him.  His hands.  His mouth.  His scent.  The feel of him under my palms.  Against my skin.         

He did not wait for me to grant him entry.  He forced my mouth open with his and pushed his tongue inside.  I gasped at the heat of his mouth and then gasped again, more sharply, as I felt heat of a different sort.  He lifted his mouth from mine and watched with amusement as I brought my fingers to my tingling lips. 

Cinnamon.  

A grin appeared on his lips and then he widened it, showing me a quick flash of the round, red candy he'd momentarily trapped between his strong white teeth before it disappeared once more.  A fireball.  Cinnamon so hot it nearly made your eyes water for the first few minutes you sucked it and then just when you thought you couldn't stand it any longer, the burn went away leaving just a pleasant tingle and the spicy-sweet taste of cinnamon. 

I was surprised.  And pleased.  "You remembered."  The words were out before I could call them back.  Fireball.  It wasn't just his nickname for me.  It was also something he'd told me he wanted to do to me.  Suck one while he kissed me.  All over.  So I could feel the sweet burn every single place he put his mouth.  I shivered and felt my nipples grow hard as I imagined what that would be like.  And what it would be like to do the same to him.

"Of course I fuckin' remembered."  His eyes flashed green fire at me.  "You think I gave you that nickname because I like hearing myself say it?"  My eyes watered slightly as his fingers tightened in my hair.  He lowered his lips to my ear and growled, "I gave it to you because every fuckin' time I say it, I think of you like this..."  His other hand left my back to snake up under the tail of my shirt and cup my sex possessively.  "...all hot and wet and dying for me to burn you up, baby." 

I could feel my heartbeat in my throat.  And throbbing wetly under Hando's fingers.  My eyes fluttered shut as his mouth took mine again.  God, that flavor in this particular man's mouth?  It was like kissing wildfire.  I lifted my hands to touch his chest and he knocked them aside as he tore his mouth from mine and jerked my shirt open, sending the buttons skittering and bouncing across the oak floor. 

He pushed the offending fabric from my shoulders and his eyes flared as he bared my body to his gaze.  I saw his mouth work on the fiery candy as he yanked the towel free of his hips and dropped it to the floor as he advanced on me.  I didn't even get a chance to look at him before he was on me, wrapping his arms around me and lifting me so he could get at my breasts. 

My breath caught and a moan built behind it as he covered my nipple with his mouth and gave it a strong suck.  The burn was exquisite, like the tingle on my lips only more intense.  With one last firm suck, he lifted his head just enough to blow a warm current of air over my distended nipple.  My fingers dug into the heavy flesh of his shoulders as he hitched me up higher to nuzzle at the underside of my other breast.  His mouth was working at the candy again, getting enough of its flavor on his tongue to make me burn when he touched me again.

This time he didn't suck, but instead licked me as an animal might, from the first rib beneath my breast, over the soft swell to the peak of my nipple and then beyond, stopping just short of my collarbone. 

I was on fire.  

My skin.  My blood.  That secret place between my thighs.  I tightened my legs on him and ground myself against his stomach, seeking relief from the intense arousal firing my blood.  The burn of the cinnamon left me with the strange sensation of a mouth on each breast.  He licked me again, this time stopping to suckle.  That dirty laugh reached my ears once more and a second later, I felt his tongue roll the fiery little ball over my skin until he had it right where he wanted it. 

God!  The heat was unbearable.  I squirmed, held fast by his grip and I pushed at his chest even as I moaned my pleasure to him.  I could feel myself slide against his body on skin made slick by my own wetness.  His strong fingers were digging into my flesh.  I felt dizzy by the shocking intensity of what he made me feel.  Hando lifted his head and suddenly I was falling. 

I don't even remember him moving us toward the bed and suddenly we were upon it.  The coverlet felt so cool and soft under my back.  Such a contrast to my searing front.  I wanted to turn over and press my tingling nipples against it but Hando was having none of it.  He manhandled my smaller, lighter frame easily, pulling my legs up around his hips as he moved over me, licking and nipping as he went. 

When he reached my mouth, he kissed me again, passing the fiery candy to me before his mouth left mine to trail wetly over my cheek and over my jaw to that spot on my throat....you know the one, Sisters....that spot that has the power to make your eyes roll back and your spine arch when touched by a man's mouth.  Hando found it unerringly and sucked hard, grunting with satisfaction when he saw the mark he'd left.

Hands planed firmly on either side of my head, he moved in again, this time finding that spot with his teeth and increasing the pressure until my body thrashed under his.  His chuckle turned to a hiss as my hips came off the bed and caught the hard length of his cock between our bodies.  He used the weight of his body to force me back down and ground his hips against mine, finally giving me the pressure he knew I so desperately wanted as he came back up to take my mouth.

The kiss was wild, heady.  The spicy candy passed back and forth between us until Hando felt its heat had dwindled enough to suit his purposes.  He took it from me then and lifted his head, rolling to his back and twining his fingers in my hair as he pushed me down his body.

Even though I was dying for a taste of him, I tried to pull back a little.  I wanted to see him.  To drink in the sight of him that he'd denied me earlier.  "Hando-"

"Don't talk.  Just suck."  He stroked himself a few times and then rubbed the weeping tip across my lips.  "Suck me."

His breathing changed as my mouth closed over him and then deepened a moment later as he began to feel the tingly heat of the cinnamon in tandem with the warm pulls of my mouth and the wet rasp of my tongue.  God, he was big.  Thick and heavy and so hot for it.        

Green eyes flicked down to watch me.  "Good little Yank girl like you?  Betcha never..." his voice hitched as I tongued that fascinating bit of flesh I'd only ever read about in books or seen in pictures.  "...had one that wasn't cut."  Our eyes met.  Locked.  His belly tightened in pleasure at the answer he saw there. 

"Mmmm...."  I hummed my agreement, too greedy to for him to pull away now that he'd finally stripped me of my inhibitions. 

I wanted to crawl up his body, to tease him with the soft drag of my hair and little nipping kisses as I learned his body but I knew this was not the time.  We were far beyond sparking such small flames.  I had a bigger fire to tend and I was already in danger of being consumed.  I couldn't get enough.  His scent.  His taste.  The feel of him against my tongue. 

"Christ.  Your mouth.  You have the hottest fuckin' mouth-"

He planted the soles of his feet firmly against the mattress and began to thrust his hips lightly as I started to graze him with my teeth, just enough to make it burn so sweet.  I felt him shudder and buck, working hard to stay in control of his breathing and our pleasure.

"Yesss... fuck!  Suck me....Suck-"  Hands tight in my hair.  Big body sweaty under mine.  The scents of sex and cinnamon and warm needy bodies.  Black swirled at the edges of my consciousness.  Too much heat.  Too little air.  Far, far too much Hando. 

He didn't even order me to stop.  He simply lifted me with a growl and flipped me to my back.  He was on me a moment later, catching me up behind the knees and lifting them up and out.  Pressing them back.  Opening me to him.  I reached for him and got only air as he bent to taste me.  Parting me with rough fingers.  One long lick with the flat of his tongue. 

A motion that began low between my legs and finished with him rising over me, staring down into my eyes as he covered my body with his.  "Hadta fuckin' know," he muttered, licking my taste from his lips as he slicked the tip and pushed in hard, continuing the forward momentum until he was seated as deep as he could go.

I cried out, pushing at his chest as the blunt pressure made my eyes water.  He froze instantly at the sharp edge in my voice.  In my haste to feel him and his haste to bury himself deep, we'd forgotten this was a first time of sorts.  I was not a virgin, but the Brothers are large and Hando had not been mindful of his endowment. 

"Bloody fuck," he cursed quietly under his breath and then grimaced at his choice of words.  I knew he was sorry for hurting me.  He might enjoy inflicting a little pain on his partners from time to time, but it was always carefully measured, purposeful.  Pain to enhance pleasure - either his own or theirs, but never pain for pain's sake.  Hando is a violent man but not a cruel one.  There is a difference.

Though he remained exactly where he was, not moving at all to ease my discomfort, his head dropped to my shoulder.  He waited the handful of heartbeats it took for my body to begin to relax.  "Christ.  I didn't-"

"I know."  He didn't apologize.  I didn't need him to.  He came to me then, lips to my ear, cock buried so deeply in me, and whispered things to me.  Not love words.  Not even tender words, but words just for me.  Words I cannot share.  Words I will not share.

Locked together, I whispered back to him.  And somehow, we found our way.  He moved then, without hesitation.  Not gently, but in a different way than he had before.  A steady driving rhythm.  His body strained with the effort to ignore the instinctive urge to let go and fuck me raw.  Eyes hooded, he pulled back enough to watch the wet slide of his cock, in and out.  My body fluttered around him, gripping him tight. 

His jaw clenched and his breath hissed through his teeth.  "SSSSsssss.....Yeah....that's it... take it."  He slid his hand under my buttocks and lifted me to meet his deliberately forceful downstroke.  "You fuckin' take it all." 

Flashover.

My throaty groan broke against his throat and my body convulsed around his full, heavy flesh as release seared through me.  My hands knotted at the base of his spine, holding him to me as I shamelessly used his big body for my pleasure.  Trembling and breathing hard, I finally released him. 

The second I did, his head dropped low and he began to thrust.  Hard.  His buttocks rising and falling between my legs as he sought his own release.  He growled in pleasure as my satiated body went slack and pliant beneath his, accepting more of him as he sweated and strained over me, an overwhelming presence of masculinity in full rut. 

His thrusts became erratic and then he stilled, face pressed tight to my sweaty neck as he grunted out his coming to me.  The wet, rhythmic pulses I felt inside matched the cadence of his cursing, low and gritty in my ears.  His hips jerked stiltedly and then finally slowed.  With one last grunt, Hando shuddered and slumped against me heavily, burying his face in my hair as his heartbeat slowed. 

Several minutes passed before he rolled us over, still keeping me held tight to him even though he'd slipped from my body.  It was a long time before either of us spoke.  Longer still before we moved.  Eventually, Hando got up and hunted through his nightstand for his cigarettes.  He lit one and left it hanging from his lips as he used the discarded towel to wipe himself and then he tossed it to me.  "You know, for a goody-two shoes, you're one helluva fuck, fireball." 

I blushed, but his comment didn't keep me from finally getting my first good look at his naked body.  Now I understood why they called him the Sex God.  He certainly could drive a Sister to want to worship at the alter of his-

"Keep looking at me like that and I'll fuck you again, love, sore cunt be damned."  There was laughter in his eyes, but heat too.  Heat and want.  He ground out his cigarette.   

I threw the towel aside and reached for him.  

Alice

So then, am I like Alice?  Waking to find my house of cards is simply the brush of dead leaves on a sleeping girl's face? 

I think not.  

I may have left my Jabberwocky behind, but I am still in Wonderland.  And under my clothes, his marks still linger.  I feel them when I breathe.  A sweet ache I wouldn't trade for anything.  A reminder of the time we shared together.  Laughter.  Heated words.  Silence.  Sweaty afternoon fucks.  Meals shared with Dom and Colin.  Meals shared with just him. 

Good Lord, Diary, a whole week of sunrises.  How can a man pour himself into his shop all day and pour himself into a woman half the night and still have the energy to wake up that early?  He dragged me out of bed with him every morning, of course... but I have to say, morning wood is quite the incentive.  As are those early morning sessions in the shower.  And all teasing aside, watching him watch the sunrise?  I will carry those quiet moments with me all the days of my life.   

So, did we really christen the shop?  What do you think?  Hando's not telling, although he has mentioned to me there's a certain stretch of chain link at the shop that always makes him smile when he passes it.  And I believe there's a certain red Dodge with a monster engine in it that has caused him to crack a few grins as well.  It does make you wonder, doesn't it, Diary....?

And in the wake of it all, it seems very strange to be sitting here, typing this... surrounded by people in the first class cabin who have no earthly idea that such a World exists or that I am recording its happenings in your pages.  It is all so very odd.  I wonder what they see when they look at me.  I know don't look different... and yet I am.

Touched by a Jabberwocky.  Romanced by a White Knight.  Pierced by a Thorne.  Dreaming of love found only in that delirious burning blue of untrespassed space... 

Reading over my words, Diary, I think maybe it's better they don't see.  And even if they did, who would believe me anyway?