Bundling & Handfasting Can Get You Through The Winter…. All Legal In Sweden.

Ahhhhhhhhh… The wait is over!

An Episode of Shameless Fuckery

An Alex triad fic - lengthier than short - NC-17

Jamesy had learned to cope well with Alex’s absences.  She had been taught to work hard by her father, the deceased good ol’ boy lawyer lawmaker, and she had done so and accomplished much before she decided she would finish her life, if the Fates allowed, with the deepest emotion she had ever experienced, far deeper than grief, and manifested upon the tall Swede, whom she loved boundlessly, ably, frivolously, and ever.  Alex knew it.  Jamesy wondered if her daddy would term her life “frivolous”.  She would never want to disappoint him in her life choices.  She thought and decided he would not term it so because he would understand and approve of the love Alex had for her and showed her consistently, worshipfully, honorably.

She smiled to herself.  During Alex’s absences, she had taken up journaling in heartfelt sweet prose and now she baked sweets for her sweet.  She also worked out at the gym she owned a quarter of, and which she left to Alex when he was at home in Atlanta.  But today was three days out from Alex’s extant homecoming and she hadn’t missed a day’s workout during his five-week business trip.  He had filmed a short role and stayed a week in Stockholm to conduct his affairs.  Jamesy snorted at her choice of silent words – Alex did not have romantic affairs; he had sex with Remy sometimes and might let someone service him with a blow to his cock if he were so horny his hand wouldn’t do.  He had told Jamesy that the odd oral had lessened over the years.  Every time Alex returned to Jamesy’s arms, he had a hardon for her.  Jamesy believed she had his love.  Her daydreams of lovemaking became almost constant when she knew she would see Alex and get some very soon.  To make it through the anxious wait, she only needed to remember Alex’s face when he was warning her of his impending explosion and begging her for one.  He said there was no better feeling than for her to come on his cock.  He brought the best cock hugging cums out of her.  She smiled.

She tied her running shoes and easily ran the two blocks from home to the gym.  Today was the dreaded leg day.  Lunges were her nemesis, yet she would do them religiously imagining her taut butt and her ability to squeeze Alex between her thighs and how much he liked that while he was sending his cock in and out to take his fuckbunny to heaven.  She enjoyed the exercise sweaty fantasy trance she usually fell into, fucking her Swede-ee-pie in every position, counting her repetitions in the remembered squirming thrusts that felt so good.  In three days her fantasies would be her reality.

At Boot Camp, she waved and spoke to familiar faces, friends she’d known for years.  She spoke to Marti, the smart and fit transwoman who managed the day-to-day business and patrons.

“Hey, Miss Marti, how’s every little or big thing around here?  Before you ask, Alex will be home day after tomorrow.  Are you missing your favorite celebrity?”  Jamesy teased Marti with all affection.  Marti was a godsend, adept at client relationships, kept gossip to herself unless pertinent to the owners, and she looked out for Jamesy and Alex when each was there.  Jamesy called her cousin or sister if pressed, and she brooked no gender discussions in her presence.  Marti handled well-meaning questions with kindness and had been known to have physically thrown out those who made sport of her.  Membership was so diverse at this Midtown gym, most people were curious with love about each other, eager to learn and relate in a friendly way.

“Miz Beauchamp, how the hell are you?  I haven’t seen you since yesterday.  Alex is gonna wonder how you got that hard body.  We have a new, very gregarious member today, Brent Stockton.  I don’t know about him.  See what you think.  He must be straight; he’s hit on every woman in here.  He’ll want to jump on you.  Speak of the devil.”  Marti nodded to Jamesy’s right.

“Hi, I’m Brent.”  Jamesy turned to see a smiling, well-groomed man with many teeth and without a drop of sweat anywhere.

“I’m Fischer.  Nice to meet you.  Did you just move here?”  Jamesy would make innocuous conversation for a minute or two, but Boot Camp was a serious gym with brief conversation between machines or weight sets.

“You seem to know everybody.  What’s the neighborhood like?  Can I buy you a water and conversation?”

“No.  I’m in a hurry and it’s leg day.  Maybe some other time.”  Jamesy was already a tad creeped out, when Brent familiarly grabbed her hand.  She saw Marti tense at the gesture.

“Let me take you to dinner then after our workouts.”  Brent smarmily looked into Jamesy’s eyes, which she quickly closed, turned her head and looked away.

“I’ve said it as nicely as I can – No.  I’m busy.  I’m happily in a committed relationship.  And I have all the friends I need.  Step aside.”  Jamesy snatched her hand from his grasp and marched toward the leg machines, intensely focused on getting away and getting started.  She heard Marti suggesting Brent concentrate on his workout and what machine would he like to try first, or did he prefer free weights.

Jamesy began with her quads.  By the time she got to hamstrings, she was well within her groove and imagining Alex with a raging hardon begging her to fuck him, giving in (of course), and every detail of how Alex continued to pleasure her.  She put on her ankle weights and with her toes on the edge of the box made for it, she did sets of calf raises, holding onto the bar she would soon use for stretching and closing her eyes to vividly imagine Alex’s face and his sounds of effort as he held his through her rhythmic spasms.

After the incident Jamesy thought that perhaps she looked sexually happy maybe or she was softly making Alex’s sounds or she shouldn’t have had her eyes closed.  Maybe the Brent guy was just a perv or would not be politely off-put.  Whatever the reason, arms suddenly encircled and snatched Jamesy off the box.  Jamesy opened her eyes wide and screamed in surprise and said to Brent clearly, “Get the fuck off me.”

Immediately there were three muscled regulars who took an arm or leg of the man and drug him to the front desk for Marti’s punishment.  Jamesy quickly gathered her accoutrement to the twitter of all the gym patrons.  She swiftly shot Marti a grateful look and gave her the “call me” sign as she skittered past the desk and out the door.  She took the shortcut through the woods to leave her embarrassment behind and did her lunges through Ansley Park to home, thinking about Alex as Amleth, her bulky Viking, ripping the Brent guy in half.  She locked all the doors and set the alarm that she rarely used since Ansley Park had security patrol and did a bit of yoga on the bathroom floor naked.  As her breathing slowed and a smiling Alex wanted to fuck her on the dining room table of her mind, she calmly got in the hot shower.  She had goosebumps.  That Brent sonofabitch had given her the creeps.

Jamesy let the hot water take her as Alex does with his big Viking paws.  She loved calling them that to tease him and let him know that he caressed her just right with his long-fingered hands.  She imagined Alex stroking her face and patting her cheeks with love.  He moved to her breasts and fondled them, making her nipples rouse to his touch.  When daydream Alex moved to her clit, Jamesy was beathing deeply and producing slippery lube for the shower drain.  She opened her eyes, turned off Alex’s warm hands and grabbed a soft towel.  The towel brushed against her hard clit and she moaned “Aaaleeex”.  She sat on the dressing room bench and with the towel covering her fingers, brought herself to glad climax, mewing at herself in the mirror.  “Day after tomorrow, sweet man,” she thought to herself.  She set aside the lounging clothes Alex most liked to take off her and donned shorts and his t-shirt she would sleep in.

She ran her fingers through her wet hair and made herself tea while thinking realistically about groceries needed for the baking she planned to do tomorrow (when Alex would be back the next day!).  She would take muffins to Boot Camp and then make all kinds of goodies Alex liked – marble cupcakes with buttercream, chocolate tortes with coconut and caramel, not too sweet courgetti bread with dates and raisins.  Jamesy had taken up the baking so she could exercise her creativity.  She read and developed a conversational friend in the owner of Allons Bakery where she still shopped for the unique tasty delight.  She’d made a few laughable mistakes that, as Alex teased “a starving piggy wouldn’t choke down.”  Now Alex looked forward to her treats concocted with love and loved to use the buttercream to lick off anywhere she allowed him to spread it.

Her phone jarred her from her reverie.  “Alex?” she answered dreamily.

“No, sorry, it’s Marti.  I called to give you a heads up about Mr. Stockton.  I finally had to give him the behavior pamphlet and send him home.  But not before it came to my attention that he had been asking about you and where you live.  I don’t think he got the street, but he knows Ansley Park.  Hopefully he will give up on you and try to fit in here.  I’ll give him one more chance before I refund him.  You let me know.  I’ll come and whip his silly ass.” 

Jamesy was mmmming during Marti’s succinct monologue.  “I hope he is just silly.  He gave me the creeps.  Thanks, my dear.  I’ll let you know.”

They rung off.  Marti was a tall, muscular woman with dainty mannerisms.  However, Jamesy had seen her take a meek woman’s part and beat the fuck out of her abusive (in public!) boyfriend.  Jamesy was glad of her able assistance should it be required.  Jamesy fleetingly hoped the fool was just an idiot and not violent.

About dusk the doorbell rang.  Jamesy cautiously looked before opening it, shouted “who’s there” and got no answer.  She opened up just a crack and saw no person, but an envelope on the porch.  She opened the door wide and stepped to retrieve it and saw what could have been Brent’s head jogging down the steps to the sidewalk.  There was only a note inside which Jamesy extricated with tweezers to preserve fingerprints.  She was still a lawyer.  The note read:

Sincerest apologies.  Would like to get to know you.  We will talk soon.  Your house is as beautiful as you are.  Sincerely, Brent, 107 Ansley Way #4 (and gave his telephone number)

Oh hell (Jamesy thought), he lived at the north end of Ansley Park toward Piedmont Ave. at the train station in the only apartments in Ansley Park, a four-plex, that always seemed to threaten imminent slum.  She tweezered the note and envelope into a large freezer bag and zip locked it, just in case.  She took a breath – he knew where she lived.

Now, she thought to herself, if this escalates further I will file a police report.  I’ve lived alone longer than I’ve had the luxury of my precious partner.  I’ve been threatened by some powerful men over divorce settlements and never blinked an eye; I’ve backed opponents into corners with my sharp tongue.  I grew up in this house and I will not be threatened in it.  I’ve got my brave drawers on!  (Actually she was pantiesless at the moment.) 

Jamesy had bucked herself up.  She would not be threatened in her own house.  So there!  She slept well and awoke ready to bake for her boy who would be home in 48 hours.

She was relaxed in her own space and put love and excited anticipation in her muffins.  The cats seemed to enjoy sniffing each treat as it came out of the oven.  Her only concession to the situation of the serial killer rapist, as she called him in her mind, was to keep her phone close to hand – anyway her Alex, the globetrotter, might want her at any time at all.  The house smelled like the Keebler elves lived there.  By early evening, the treats were cooling for evening frosting, the cats were napping and Jamesy was sitting at the kitchen island dreaming of travelled Alex kissing her after every bite he took from her “baked goods”.

The doorbell pierced the quiet.  Jamesy flew mad (expecting no one), turned on all the outside lights, grabbed her phone put it on video, and stormed to the door with meowing backup at her heels.  As she thought, it was the serial killer holding a vase of flowers and trying to look innocuous.

“I really didn’t mean to scare you, Fischer,”  Mr. Smarmy addressed her, pretending formality while giving disrespect.  He held out the flowers toward Jamesy.  “Let’s make up and be friends.  You cook – something smells good.  Could I have a taste and make peace?”

Jamesy was furious.  She controlled her breathing and demeanor as if in the courtroom.  “Oh, I’m not afraid of you, Mr. Stockton.  I have been baking for my husband.  I have nothing for you.”  She took the flowers to have more fingerprints, to examine the inappropriate card (said “love – brent”), to use as a weapon if necessary.  “Take this as true – do not ever come back here.  You are not welcome here.  Now let me see the back of you to remember you as not here.”  Jamesy was as calm as if she’d had six armed guards behind her rather than two ginger cats puffed out to look tough.

She closed the door in his face frozen in a sneering smile.  And it was all on video on her phone.  She tapped the app button for Ansley Park Security.  She would make a report of the stalking, in case she had to kill him – as she told the officer who wrote down every detail and consumed every crumb of Jamesy’s offered cupcakes with his coffee.  Jamesy sent muffins she had baked for the gym to the security office instead.  The officer was grateful and took with him the envelope and note and emailed Jamesy’s video to his phone.  On their face, the two incidents did not seem threatening, but stalking is also defined by law as unwelcomed contact of any sort.  Considering how Jamesy’s house was privately perched atop a hill, extra patrols would be useless, but the officer assured her that they would be there in moments should she need them.

Jamesy set the alarm, turned on music, iced her cupcakes and went to bed early with the cats.  Alex would be home tomorrow evening.

                                              ******************

Jamesy was certainly ready to see her boy.  She had the house right and welcoming.  She wore the clothes Alex liked best to take off her.  She waited patiently with a book poolside.  He would come in the back door.  She heard the car.  She put the book down that had grown indecipherable.  Alex punched in the numbers and opened the back gate.  He paused to take in the scene he had contemplated and counted on – balmy evening in Atlanta, the pool welcoming and serene, his beautiful, sexy Jamesy who had patiently waited for him and could hardly contain her joy at the sight of him.  He dropped his one bag, slipped his shoes off, ripped his t-shirt over his head and caught his babycakes as she jumped into his arms and showered him with kisses.  He had a thought that he would have to quit the film industry when he was no longer able to catch his flying wifey and hold her while she kissed him as her prize between her legs got wetter and wetter, because she would ever greet him this way.  He smiled under her frenzied kisses and caught her lips to tongue the fuck into her.  He would have her almost immediately.  He noticed her thighs were stronger around his waist and she hugged his neck like she’d never let him go.

Alex carried his fuckbunny to the big chaise longue beside the pool from whence Jamesy had begun her successful run at him.  He knew his hardon was showing proudly through his comfortable plane sitting pants.  “Look how hard you’ve made me, darlin’.  I’ll have to fuck you for that.”

Alex laid her gently in the chaise and without a word took off the tiny babydoll nighty and panties she wore that he so loved off her.  He thought her gorgeous and always had done.  Perhaps because he knew what wonders she could always do to him.  Perhaps he so loved her that he saw her through his love eyes.

He rubbed her lube she left into his belly and swept off his pants.  Dala needed to be ridden hard and put up wet.  Jamesy beckoned him with open legs.  “I missed you, sweet man, fuck me,” Jamesy purred.

Alex knelt between her legs,  Her pussy glistened and he licked his lips, but that would be later he would devour her.  He thought of using the fingers of his “big Viking paw” (Jamesy said) but thought it might just be a tease for her tonight.  He situated Dala and eased his big cock into her.  He wouldn’t hurt her.  Her moans told him all he needed to know.  She wanted all of him now.  He grinned at her pleasure and thought of her pussy magically opening to swallow him whole and intact.  As he began to thrust and rub her best bits, she grasped his biceps with white knuckles and his thighs with her legs and came on his cock as if she’d had an hour’s stimulation.  She cried out clutched around his cock like a rhythmic, bone-crushing hug.  He sputtered in surprise, “Fu-Fuck Jamesy!” and held still to keep his balls from moving in response. 

When she opened her eyes he whispered, “You did miss me, baby.  Let’s have another.  Fuck me hard, baby.  I need to give it to you.”  He began to thrust into her with great intent, bottoming out at what felt like her stomach but was the depth of her loving him.  He felt her hard clit rubbing the root of his cock.  He put both Viking paws on her nice ass and pulled her to him as he ramrodded her pretty pussy that gave as much as it took.  She called him to take it and he felt her spasm around him.  His cock shot her full in her rhythm that had become his after the sweet years of this they’d shared.  His orgasms were powerful, an all-encompassing physical scream that would shake him apart but for Jamesy’s own orgasmic comfort.  If ever he wanted to answer a question about it, he, the actor, would have no words; he could never confess his vulnerability in that moment that was just hers.  His orgasms with Remy were those of conquering Vikings, taking what was theirs.  It was the same bodily response that felt so very different with his own One.

They lingered in the summer evening, talking and laughing, and took a cuddly dip in the pool.  Jamesy needed Alex to touch her.  She didn’t want to be away from him even a few feet.  Alex found that unusual – he noticed – but he didn’t mind at all.  He had been alone too, as it turned out.

Jamesy asked about Remy, thinking that perhaps Alex had had some great sex with their third.  Alex related that Remy was dating a Swedish transwoman that he was serious about.  Alex had met her and thought her sweet, intelligent, attractive, and loving to Remy.  And Remy hadn’t had much time for Alex at all.  Alex had no real details but thought that Remy would be forthcoming at some point.  Jamesy giggled and recalling Alex’s role in War on Everyone, made a face and said, “European.  Jiz.”

Alex laughed right out and said in his best southern, “is a-runnin’ down yore ‘purdy laig’, honeybutt.”

They held hands, gathered all their stuff and went inside as the outside lights came automatically on.  Inside the kitchen, the kitties rushed to see their warm sleeping mountain with greetings and tattle tales on mama who hadn’t given them enough tuna.  Alex cuddled them in turn and exclaimed to Jamesy, who was opening a bottle of bubbly, “Babycakes!  You’ve baked me everything I could want!  I love these orange menaces and your cupcakes, moist and delicious!”  Alex took a marble one and fingered off the buttercream and popped the digit into his mouth.  “This is what you taste like, Jamesy, like luuv, sweet luuv.”  She kissed him.

There was much joy in the house with Alex home, as he snacked around and kissed Jamesy for trying to make her Viking fat and happy.  Relaxed Alex eventually asked Jamesy what had happened that had upset her.  She knew he would notice no matter how she tried to make it wait until tomorrow.  She calmly told her Viking about Brent Stockton and all the details of what he did and how it had made her feel.  She told him how she had handled it.  Alex held her tight, “I’m here, Jamesy.  And even though you don’t need me for such, I will never let anything happen to you, not when I can help it.  I love you.  We’ll take care of it.”  He kissed her until she wanted to come again with him.  They went to bed to see if maybe he did too.

After a quick shower and everyone in bed, including the kitties, Alex slipped his two best Viking digits into Jamesy’s warmth.  She smiled at him.  He moved between her legs and licked a wide swath through her nether lips.  “Tingly toothpaste,” she giggled, ending with a groan of delight.  Alex sucked her clit and fingered her slick cunt.  Jamesy wove her fingers in his damp hair and rolled her hips toward his unshaven, prickly face.  She loved it.  Alex thought it just too hot when she vulgarly thrusted against his face while pulling him gently by the hair into her.  He moaned his delight on her clit that made her jump.  Alex smiled and looked up at his baby.  “Fuckin’ come for me!  Come on my face!”  He sucked her clit harder and got his reward.

Jamesy came with hard waves that caressed his fingers and made her clit jump in his mouth.  Alex mmm’ed and lapped and sucked through all of Jamesy’s groaning “fuck yes-es” because she couldn’t reach any of him to occupy her mouth.  Without warning, Jamesy pushed his head away from her sensitive pussy.  Alex had half closed eyes of sex unfinished and moaned sweetly, “Baby, need more, so good, need your pussy, please.”  He begged so sincerely.  Jamesy had covered her nether bits with her hand.  Alex looked at his well-fucked baby and grinned.  He wiped his face on the sheet and rose to hands and knees to show his fuckbunny his hard, throbbing cock.  “Then can I fuck you just a little?  I’ll just put in the head.”

They both erupted in raucous laughter such that the cats slithered off the bed with disgust.  It was a running joke with the line uttered by one with a hard dick desperate to have it paid attention to by one other than a hand, that had been written as serious dialog somewhere.  Jamesy demurely acquiesced, “Well then, just the head.  I don’t know you that well.”  She pushed him onto his back and sat on his cock entire all at once, making them both gasp and giggle.  Alex flipped her and fucked her like he meant it.  It took just a few well-played minutes for them to grunt another enjoyed come with each other.   And a few moments more for them to be asleep in each others arms.  The cats found accessible spots for slumber on warm Alex and purred themselves to sleep.

                                                *******************

A beautiful morning of leisure and love waited to be enjoyed.  Alex was rested and awoke slowly with a hardon that he used to tap on Jamesy thigh.  Jamesy opened one green eye and slithered out of Alex’s grasp down under the covers to converse with Dala.  There was no urgency this morning.  The lovers were content to be close to each other with no demand for a swift finale.  Alex moaned under Jamesy’s loving lips and talented tongue.  She knew what he liked and gave it, just to hear his breathing quicken and his prayer of “baby, you’ll make me come that way” which was always her end game Alex knew.

Alex threw back the covers to watch Jamesy caress his cock and it respond to her.  Her movements and how they felt were entrancing, so much so that Alex came to himself with barely time to warn her he was going to come.  “Baby, cum!” was all he uttered before there was jiz on Jamesy’s tits, in her hair, on his chest, and in Jamesy’s mouth, which she swallowed and whispered to him as she crawled up to lie on his chest and get her reward kisses, “European.  Jiz.”  There was good-natured tickling and squealing like little girls added to the chase to the shower.

Agreeably fluffed out and wearing Alex’s oldest, softest t-shirts, Alex made coffee and Jamesy made eggs and kippers to accompany the baked extravaganza.  Cats fed, newspaper glanced at, Alex lay with his head in Jamesy’s lap sprawled on the couch.  There was no need for many words.  Jamesy stroked Alexes hair and hummed a love ballad.  She gazed out the windows in a happy fog as Alex dozed.  They were in their heaven or their idyllic time of togetherness stretching out their serenity like the cats in the sun.

Jamesy had drifted off and Alex had turned on his side with his face buried in Jamesy’s belly.  He clutched her arm to hold her palm on his cheek as would a sleepy baby with its favorite security blanket.  The doorbell woke Jamesy.  It played the first few bars of Funk #49 by the James Gang to where the heavy bass comes in that Jamesy always heard in her mind.  She was self-satisfied with her boy in her lap, sleeping soundly.  It must have been around noon and they didn’t have anywhere to be.  There was nothing that needed to be done that moment, until the knocking began.  Jamesy gently moved her hand on Alex’s face and caressed his brow.  He slept on.  She ran her fingertips over his beloved scruff (How did he keep it just right?  Jamesy was ignorant of manscaping.).  Alex slept peacefully.  So Jamesy traced Alex’s nostrils and barely inserted her fingertips.  Alex awoke with, “What the fuck, babycakes?”  Then the doorbell sounded again.  Funk #49 usually made them smile.  Alex had found the obscure old thing in props for some movie, unused, bought it and brought it home to his most silly girl, who was delighted.  Now Alex was awake and his Scandinavian calm had turned.  The giant was angry.

“Do you think it could be that stalker fuck?”  Jamesy, who had been carefree to her soul, was as tense as her Viking.  She grabbed her phone as she nodded the affirmative.

“Try not to kill him,” she murmured to Alex, “It’s so messy.”  She felt Alex smile.  She followed him down the hallway with the video.  He wore a shirt and boxer briefs.  He was barefoot and had adorable sprigs of hair standing up like a cockatiel’s crest.  But his height and demeanor made him scary as fuck.  He swung open the door.  Jamesy, videoing from the background, caught little Brent’s inadvertent cringe and deflation.

Brazen Brent spoke with all the bravado he could muster, “Hi, I’m Brent.  I’ve come to take Fischer to lunch.  Is she ready?”

Alex said simply, “No.” and punched Brent in his smarmy face.  Brent had a glass jaw and fell back onto the welcome mat on the screened-in porch.  Jamesy thought he was feigning unconsciousness.  She handed Alex the vase of flowers she had left in the entry and went back to her video.  Alex said nothing; took one step and poured flowers and water in Brent’s “unconscious” face.  He tossed the vase onto Brent’s curled up form and it rolled harmlessly toward the screened door. 

Alex stepped back inside and curtly closed the door.  He looked at his beloved and they both burst out laughing loud enough to be heard through the door.  Jamesy called for security.  Alex rubbed the knuckles of his right hand.  He’d given him a good one that might’ve loosened his teeth.

The responding officer enjoyed coffee and cupcakes and the good story.  He looked at the video and laughed like a mule in clover.  In the arrest warrant he wrote that Stockton had tripped and knocked himself out.  He explained that although Alex had the right to confront and subdue a trespasser, they would have to be in Court to allow the defense to question the witnesses.  He winked at Jamesy and commented that Alex was a good deterrent and Stockton could stay away from her from jail.  Stalking is a crime that is prosecuted by the state.  Jamesy would give her sworn statement, and their travelling to Stockholm would not be threatened by Court appearance.   Jamesy erased the part of the video that identified Stockton and kept the best of her championing knight in Calvin Klein’s for herself.  Alex politely saw the officer out with chocolate torte that would not make it the short distance back to the station.

When Alex came back to the kitchen, Jamesy was eating a marble cupcake.  “You OK, darlin’?”  He asked her softly.  Jamesy took a finger of buttercream and popped it into Alex’s mouth.  He moaned. 

Jamesy glanced at his package that she always loved to open and saw that he had a straining hardon.  “Buttercream makes you hard?”  She giggled.

Alex brushed the dishes to one side and set Jamesy on the kitchen island and kissed her savagely.  He ripped her little shorts down her legs and thrust two fingers into her already wet pussy.  Quickly withdrawn and thrust into his mouth, “Mmmm buttercream,” he groaned.  His Calvins had come off and he stroked his hard, seeping cock.

“Stalker fuck could never make you come like this.”  Alex grabbed Jamesy’s hips and thrust into her, fucking her hard and making grunting noises of effort that covered Jamesy’s mews of impending orgasm.  She screamed his name and came like the grip of the winner in the tug of war, pulling every shot of cum out of her Alex.  He had left off his manly grunts and groans for whimpers of gratitude to his Jamesy, who managed to keep all that selfless love in her smallish form of fine fuckery.

They held onto each other, unwilling for it to end and unable to go again.  “No one will ever make me come like you do, my sweet man,” Jamesy sighed contentedly.  “And no one will ever make better buttercream, my fuckbunny,” Alex kissed her, withdrew and plucked her off the counter.  He took his shirt off and strode out to dive into the pool.

@askarsjustsoswedish @rockifresa @m-f1 @howaboutboth1

@sigelfire @maxwell-demon @wonderjinx @paradise-sverige

@staywildmoonrise @quweenjo @mariuch @raewritesfiction

@livingonthehems @villageidiotlove @rembrandtswife

@trueblood825 @constantmoon

-just a little fantasical love for y'all- catcat

Honey, we all want to be Lilith. But seriously, there has to be some Lilith in each of us.

Hi, I'm Lilith.

Alex as Eric Fucking Northman. I was to play Lilith, but they cut my big scene. I'm still in therapy over it. I was so good to go.

Did I muss his hair too much?

Alexander ❤️🔥

Hey mom - look what followed me home! Can I keep them?

Raccoon Dog cubs

kpunkka

I want to believe!

UFO Photograph ~ Switzerland (1975) by Billy Meier ~ The flying saucer that would later hang in Fox Mulder’s office

Coachella coming up - next 2 weekends! Lady Gaga as top entertainer, and with Charli xcx headlining on the main stage both Saturdays, and FKA twigs sub-lining on main stage both Friday's. Any bets that we might see Alex and/or Bill attending at least one of the weekends, if not both?

coachella.com

Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival

See you in the desert. April 11-13 & 18-20, 2025

@differentcatcat @maxwell-demon @rockifresa

I just had to.

Catch a falling star & put it in your pocket, save it for a rainy day. Catch a falling star & put it in your pocket, never let it fade away…

I resemble this remark! @differentcatcat @maxwell-demon @homosekularnost

i always forget "fuck" is a bad word. it's like a brother to me

@differentcatcat @askarsjustsoswedish @maxwell-demon

Murderbot Is ‘More Relatable Than Most Characters I’ve Played’, Says Alexander Skarsgård via Empire

By Ben Travis | Published on 8th April 2025 at 7.09am

Alexander Skarsgård has played all kinds of roles over the years. He’s been a centuries-old vampire; a vengeful viking; a writer having a very, very bad holiday. But nothing has quite spoken to him like his latest role: Murderbot, in Murderbot. He’s taking on the lead role in Apple TV+’s adaptation of Martha Wells’ The Murderbot Diaries novels, playing a security cyborg who – to its own inconvenience – starts to relate more and more to humanity, whilst deriding our mortal foibles.

“Ironically, I found Murderbot more relatable than most characters I’ve ever played,” Skarsgård tells Empire in a major new career-spanning interview – particularly as a character who’s always on the outside, looking in on the rest of society. “There’s a social awkwardness, or just trying to figure out how to fit into a group,” he says.

While the story of Murderbot – created for TV by Chris and Paul Weitz – unfolds in a sci-fi milieu, there’s a comedic element too, through Murderbot’s detached view of the world. “It’s not interested in humans, humans are idiots,” says Skarsgård. “It’s kind of appalled by them, and it’s been treated horribly by all its clients up until this moment. But then it ends up on this weird planet with this weird group of humans that are outside the corporate system, and they don’t believe in indentured servitude, they want to talk to Murderbot and invite Murderbot in, instead of storing it in the tool shed, like other clients have done, and that freaks Murderbot out.” Maybe we’re all a bit Murderbot – get ready for the most relatable show of 2025.