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Not a day goes by that Duchess Swan doesn’t think about her destiny.
It's hard not to when your life is ticking down to an undesired end. It was only a matter of time before her curse took full effect, whether she signed or not. She was born with it and… it'll make sure she dies with it.
Every character in the Storybook of Legends has a part to play. Some are smaller than others, but each must fulfill their role. It's to ensure their world's survival after all.
And Duchess is nothing if not Royal. She won't accept any other part unless Grimm himself gave it to her. She even considers herself lucky for being blessed with the lead. If only that lead didn't have a tragic end.
She's prepared her whole life for her part. It's almost funny, spending your life waiting for death.
But there's more to Swan Lake than her untimely death. She has to fall in love after all. Duchess always rolls her eyes at the idea. How could anyone that claims to love her let her die? Because the love isn't real.
She couldn't fall in love with someone she'd met only a few nights ago. But because the Swan Queen fell in love, so deeply in love, the Storybook will now ordain a new prince to be her Siegfried. Duchess already knows she hates him. Because the moment they meet is another omen of her impending demise.
But it's the part she must play. And if Grimm won't bless her with a new one, then who is she to deny it?
Well, as it turns out, there is a second, crucial part every fairytale character must play. That of a parent. Of course, Duchess wouldn't be doing any of the actual parenting herself, she'd be trapped in her swan form by that point, but she still has to have a child.
The thought of having to share a bed with a man she doesn't know– one she's already decided to hate– fills her with just as much dread as the thought of dying does. It makes her sick. That's all she is to this world? Just a vessel for the next Swan Prince or Princess to be thrown away like her mother and her grandmother and everyone else that came before her.
That fact was abundantly clear today, as the student body was split between the boys and the girls for a school-wide health seminar. Madame Yaga standing before all the girls, lecturing them about abstinence was probably the most uncomfortable thing Duchess has ever experienced at that school.
Abstinence… Duchess doesn’t throw herself around, but who are they to tell her what to do with her body? Her whole life is already being dictated! Is she not allowed even the bare minimum of autonomy?
“It's just not fair!” she grumbled for probably the hundredth time that day. She's probably uttered those words more than she's said her own name.
“You literally don't have to listen to a word they say,” Sparrow rolled his eyes, idly strumming the strings of that guitar she hated.
“That's not the point!” Duchess huffed, crossing her arms, “They expect me to give my body up to a complete stranger just to produce another signet and die! That's what's expected of me! The end of my life will just be one night of pain to the next.”
“So? Do what you want. Who cares what they think?”
“I care! Who do you take me for, Sparrow? I have expectations to live up to!”
“Duchess,” Sparrow sighed indignantly, “There's literally nothing wrong with having sex. If you want to, go do it.”
Duchess squawked. Thrown off balance, she teetered backwards, pinwheeling her arms before landing in the fountain she had been standing on.
Sparrow snickered.
Duchess’ cheeks burned. “You! Y– You vile– indecent–”
Sparrow stood from his perch, setting his guitar aside to pull her up. Duchess batted his hand away. “Duch, come on. You really can't handle me saying the word sex. What are we? Twelve?”
“Honestly, I'm surprised you're taking this seriously,” she said, stepping out of the fountain on shaky legs.
“Oh, I'm definitely gonna laugh about it later, but that can wait ‘til you understand that it's natural, Duch. Everyone has sex and there's nothing wrong with you having it.”
“Easy for you to say,” Duchess grumbled, “Does that make you feel better after taking whatever girl shows up to one of your gigs?”
“You really think so low of me?”
She bit the inside of her cheek, pointedly not meeting his eyes. “Nah, you'd have to have gigs first.”
“Forget it,” he sighed, “Save yourself for ‘The One’ or whatever, but leave me out of it.”
He turned to leave. He almost looked pitiful picking up his guitar, but Duchess couldn't find it in herself to shame him for it. Something heavy and sour had settled in her stomach.
“H– Hey, wait!” she called before she could think twice about it, scrambling to lessen the distance between them, “I'm sorry. I guess I'm just…”
“Just?” Sparrow prompted with a raised brow.
“Just… scared…” Duchess sighed, wrapping her arms around herself. The sun was setting and the air was getting colder. She couldn’t repress the shivers. “It’s a big deal to– to me. I don’t want… I know it’s going to hurt and that… That scares me.”
“It doesn’t have to you know,” Sparrow shrugged, “Hurt, I mean. You find a partner who knows what they’re doing, l– like get you turned on enough, then it shouldn’t… hurt.”
Duchess snorted, “What? Like you?”
Sparrow turned a deep red, “I wasn’t implying that!” he shrieked, “Just… fuckin’ givin’ you advice is all!”
Duchess frowned. He didn’t have to act too disgusted by the idea.
“Unless you wanted me to, but I’m not saying I have to be the one!”
Wait. Pause.
Did he really just say that?
Duchess cackled, “In your dreams! Oh, you’ve been waiting for this haven’t you!”
“ You are the one who’s been whining about this all day!” he snapped, “Why don’t you go ask one of your girly friends for advice! Why are you bitching at me , when you don’t even want to hear what I have to say?”
Duchess grumbled something incomprehensible in response. He knew her only “girly” friends were Faybelle and Lizzie. Anything Faybelle says would be unhelpful and she and Lizzie aren’t close like that.
She huffed, none too pleased with having to cede like this. “You have shown that… you have a good thought every so often. Pardon me for taking a gamble with you.”
Sparrow scoffed, “Fuck off, Duchess.”
“If I did ask… Grr– If I did ask that of you… would you?”
Sparrow stood rigid, a particularly strong gust of wind looked like it could knock him over.
“Huh?” he said oh so eloquently.
“I don’t have many options, Sparrow,” she said pointedly, “If I were to take your advice, who do you suggest I go to?”
“I– uh, well…” he mumbled dumbly, eyes flicking down briefly. Of course, not brief enough for her to miss it. Typical. She should’ve remembered the state she was in. She was soaked, dress clinging to her in ways she’d never wear regularly. Any number of perverted thoughts were probably flicking through his mind.
“That’s what I thought,” she said bitterly.
“Only if you really wanted it I guess,” he said quickly, not meeting her eyes.
Did she? She didn’t want Sparrow, obviously, but a part of her did just want to get it over with. To officially lose her virginity and know what to expect when it comes time for her to produce an heir to the Swan name.
So it's not like she has much of a choice.
“You said it wouldn’t hurt,” she said, standing a little straighter, “Can you back up that claim?”
“ Pssh, yeah,” he suddenly brightened, puffing his chest out, “I’ll admit, the first few times I had sex were rocky, but I know what I’m doing now.”
She rolled her eyes, mulling over her decision one last time. She’d really rather not with Sparrow Hood of all people. Maybe she can just pretend he’s Daring Charming or something. That might work.
“Prove it then.”
“Wait REALLY!?”
“Don’t make me repeat myself,”
“You actually want to do this?”
“I want to get it over with,” she scoffed, “Are you up to it or not?”
“Y– Yeah,” he straightened, turning to the woods, “Let's just– You don't wanna do it out– follow me.”
His hand hovered in front of her, like he was contemplating dragging her away, but thought twice of it. Good, he has no right dragging her around.
It soon became apparent where he was taking her, much to her dismay. The treehouse loomed overhead and she could already smell the lingering smoke and bodyspray in the air.
Duchess couldn't be bothered to wait for Sparrow to climb up the ladder. Instead she shifted into her swan form and opted to fly through the window. That window was never closed, she realized. Probably a poor attempt to clear out the smells in the air.
She shifted back just in time to see Sparrow’s head pop through the trap door, slightly winded, but unsurprised.
He pulled himself up, shutting and locking the door behind him. “Make yourself at home, I guess,” he swallowed heavily, walking away to put away his guitar.
Duchess sat on the couch, a musty old thing. It's probably what she hated most about the place. Covered in stains and always slightly damp. She supposed she wasn't helping that very much.
Sparrow returned to sit next to her, hands covering his knees to stop them from shaking. “If… If we’re really doing this… I just wanna make sure, like, nothing changes between us, right? We can still be friends? You’re not gonna look at me differently?”
Duchess isn’t sure why her heart dropped in that moment. That’s… That’s what she wanted, right? For nothing to change. Of course, they’re still friends. Who else would be her partner in villiany? Faybelle? She’s always worked better by herself. She’s Duchess’ best friend forever after and yet she wouldn’t doubt that Fay would leave her to take the fall.
Sparrow’s always fallen with her, hasn’t he?
“Wh– Why would anything change?” she forced her voice to remain steady. She swallowed hard, heartbeat thundering in her ears. Maybe it would be loud enough to drown out his answer. Just in case she didn't want to hear it.
“Friends don't really do this stuff, Duchess…”
“Some do!” She snapped, defensively, “An… And you offered, so…”
“I did,” he agreed quietly.
“So you shouldn't have any problems with… this.”
“I don't.”
Two words. That simple assurance was all it took to make her heart skip a beat. It wasn't that he wanted her, but he wasn't repulsed by her either.
“I guess, I just want to make sure you're okay with this, Duchess,” he looked her in the eyes with such sincerity, “You'd tell me if you weren't, right?”
She felt… dizzy. When was the last time someone cared about how she felt? Like this? When's the last time someone put her needs first?
Best not to think of that.
She puffed her chest out, her defiant persona masking her features if only for a moment. “Since when have I ever passed up the opportunity to tell you what to do?”
Thankfully, a grin split across his face as Sparrow huffed out a laugh, “Yeah. You never miss a chance to squawk.”
She did not squawk indignantly. She'll deny it until the day she dies. However soon that may be.
She slapped him lightly on the arm and he laughed harder.
And then, his laughter died and it was just the two of them. Alone in that dark, smelly treehouse. And Duchess was once again very aware of how close they were. Of what they were there to do. This wasn't a normal hangout.
“Can I touch you?”
She blinked, startled by the break in the quiet. She bit her lip, nodding.
Sparrow reached up and cupped her cheek, Duchess shivered from the chill of his rings on her skin. He dragged his thumb right under her eye. They were so close. All she'd have to do was lean forward and…
His hand moved to her hair, never breaking contact as it ran through her bangs, pulling them away from her face. He slipped her head piece from the crown of her head and Duchess had half a mind to snatch it back. The audacity of him to try and steal from her right in front of her–
He laid it on the coffee table in front of them in clear view and it would take equal measure for either of them to pick it back up. It was… okay? He wasn’t laughing about pulling one over on her?
His hand returned to the side of her face. It wasn’t fair, he’d barely touched her and her breaths were already labored. His fingers traveled around her neck, combing through the length of her hair, before coming to rest on her shoulder. He leant forward and Duchess’ eyes slid close, lips puckering as she waited for the contact.
It never came. Sparrow’s face hovered near the base of her neck, his breath on her skin sending shivers down her spine. He hesitated only a moment more before planting a kiss there. And another. And another.
A squeak caught in the back of her throat and she felt Sparrow give a half laugh at the repressed noise, before he travelled further up and sucked at the skin behind her ear. Duchess’ hands shot to his shoulders, struggling to find purchase with the studs on his leather vest. She sighed heavily as his teeth lightly grazed her. Her face tilted back, inviting him to push further. Luckily, he understood her wordless plea, taking the opportunity to bite at the sensitive area, sucking a mark into her skin.
Oh, she would be so embarrassed tomorrow. She knew it. He knew it. She’d do everything she could to hide it and it still wouldn’t be enough to stop the inevitable teasing. But right now, she didn’t care. Because it felt good.
Sparrow eased away from her, sucking in a breath. He hesitantly met her eyes. “That was… okay?”
Duchess nodded, chewing her lip.
He pulled her right leg into his lap, fingers pulling at the ribbon around her ankle. Once the knot was untied, he slipped the shoe from her foot before working on her other one.
With both of her shoes discarded, Sparrow turned in the seat and slid off the couch onto his knees, letting her left foot fall back to the floor leaving the other to stay on the couch.
His hands ran up the sides of her legs, skimming the sensitive skin behind her knees and she kicked instinctively with the sensation. He chuckled, continuing upward, past her thighs, to the hem of her skirt. He moved slowly, painfully slowly. As if he was waiting for her to stop him.
But she didn't. And so his hands dipped under her skirt, finding the seam of her tights and hooking his fingers around it.
Duchess was shaking in anticipation. Despite it, she pushed herself off the couch to help him work her out of them. Sparrow held her eyes the whole time, knelt between her legs
Goose flesh covered her legs as soon as they were bared, the chill of the treehouse returning to her. Sparrow slipped the tights down seemingly with reverence, slipping them off her feet as if they were Cinderella's glass slippers.
He leaned forward, reaching her ear. “Relax,” he whispered. Commanded. And Duchess was acutely aware of his hand dipping beneath her skirts again, lightly brushing the exposed skin of her inner thighs.
She stiffened as he reached her panties, dragging his hand slowly up and down them. It was then how hot she actually was, his hands were like icicles compared to how feverish she felt.
“It's okay, Duch. Let me take care of it.”
And then, he hooked his fingers around the waistband, yet not pulling it down. Instead, his hand traveled further below. His touch was careful and slightly ticklish. It left her frozen in anticipation. Just waiting for him to finally get inside her.
And isn’t that just a disgusting thought. Her , suddenly so needy and aching for him. For Sparrow Hood. She should want someone else. Anyone else . She should be thinking of Daring Charming. Or– Or Alistair Wonderland or…
A finger slipped in between her outermost folds, quickly finding her entrance. Her breath hitched, silencing all other thoughts.
The finger curled.
It felt good.
An inhuman sound escaped her as her lips parted on instinct. Somewhere between a honk and a whine. She would’ve been mortified if it weren’t for the digit prodding around inside her.
Mercifully, for once, Sparrow wasn’t laughing at the avian sounds escaping her. Easing her open, he slipped a second finger inside, leaving Duchess to grasp madly at the couch cushions.
She half expected him to do more. To move this train along. Sparrow wasn’t a particularly patient person, and if she could gather the courage to actually look there, she fully expected him to be at least half hard and ready to stick his dick in something.
Nevermind the fact that that something would be her.
But no, he stayed back, watching her intently as his hand explored her pussy. He seemed to take satisfaction in whatever made her squirm the most. His eyes crinkled whenever he hit her most sensitive spots and elicited more embarrassing noises from her.
His thumb started rubbing her clit and it was over for her.
It's not that Duchess has never masturbated before, there’s just not many opportunities to. She doesn’t spend much time in her dorm and when she does, Lizzie always seems to be there. She’d never desecrate the dance studio like that and even if she wanted to, she could always expect Justine or Nathan to be practicing there. And she certainly couldn’t do it out at the lake where anyone could stumble upon her or Sparrow would be playing guitar and watching her dance… always… always watching.
The point is, she’s never had many opportunities to explore herself. She’s not very versed on what makes her tick, which is a problem when she’s strung tight and needs to get off quickly before Lizzie shows up.
And yet here Sparrow is, playing her with ease like she’s a new guitar.
Her mind quickly flicks through all the times she’s seen Sparrow play that damn thing, more focused on his hands than she’s ever been before. Dexterous fingers sliding up the neck, plucking at the strings like its second nature. He knows the tune by heart and playing it is child’s play.
She feels an awful lot like that guitar right now as his fingers curl to hit a certain spot over and over again. She moans. Moans. Loudly and without inhibition. She’s hot all over and can feel herself nearing the edge and Grimm, she needs this orgasm after the day she’s had.
He smirks as her dress strap falls from her shoulder. He finally moves forward, his free hand reaching up to play with it rather than fix it. He knows. There’s no way he doesn’t. Not with the way he’s leaning into her neck and she’s moaning into his ear and his mouth is back on her and he’s sucking and biting as he moves downward. He pushed her top down, down, down until her breast was exposed and it's all so overwhelming she couldn't even feel embarrassed. Not when he's nipping at her skin and sucking and–
“DUDE! Why is the door locked!”
They both freeze, eyes bulging. Duchess would laugh at his ridiculous face if she wasn’t completely, utterly mortified.
“Come on, man! Unlock the door!” That’s one of Sparrow’s friends beating on the trapdoor. “It's freezing out here!” That’s fucking Tucker Tuck! Oh, she ought to kill him. She was so close.
Woefully, Sparrow pulled his fingers out of her. She had to suppress a whine as she found herself suddenly empty. Oh, she could cry.
He scrambled over to the trap door, wiping his hand on his pants as he unlatched it. There’s no way he’s letting him up, right? She really will kill them if he does.
“Finally!” Tucker sighed as his head popped through the floor. “Why’d you– Ow, DUDE! What gives!”
Duchess felt herself relax as Sparrow slammed the door back down on his bandmate, before opening it back up again to peer down. Tucker was now lower on the ladder and completely out of sight. Good.
“WAS THAT DUCH–” Not good!
“Shhh! Shut– Shut it!” Sparrow hissed, “Get the fuck out of here!”
“But what about practice!” Another voice whined. Oh Grimm, that was J. Oh, she could die. She will die. Happily. Right now, someone please put her out of her misery.
“Not fucking tonight!” Sparrow said, growing increasingly exasperated, “And you! Forget whatever you saw or I’m telling about your little adventure with carpentry!”
“You said you’d never tell!”
“Well I’m about to! Hey J, did’ja know Tuck likes hard wood spec–”
“OKAY! I get it! I’m gone!”
“What’s he talking about?”
“Nothing!”
“I caught Tucker moaning over a shortstack–”
“I’M GONE!” Tucker shrieked. Duchess heard a dull thud that she could only assume was him falling off the ladder and snorted to herself. “Don’t have to out me like that, asshole!”
Sparrow huffed, slamming the trap door shut and locking it before turning back to her.
“I–I’m sorry,” he stuttered uncharacteristically, almost looking… shy? “I should’ve told them to fuck off for the night.”
He crossed back over to her, eyes so intense, Duchess almost felt like prey under his gaze. “You’re still good, right?”
“As long as he can keep his mouth shut!” she hissed.
Sparrow shook his head, “Don’t worry about Tucker. Unless he finally decides to grow a pair and bang Nathan, we don’t gotta worry about him spilling.”
“Nathan? NATHAN NUTCR–”
“Can we get back to…” he gave a low whistle, eyes flicking down to her skirts, “I really wanna make it up to you, Duch.”
She gave a laugh. Since when has Sparrow Hood felt sorry about anything? If she’s completely honest with herself, she fully expected him to just stick his dick in her and just get it over with.
But… he’s been so caring this whole time. He kept putting her comfort first. And… she supposed that made sense. He was doing this for her, and yet, he was far exceeding her expectations.
Fuck, if this all goes well, maybe she’ll start having sex regularly. It’s been fucking great so far minus the interruption by a certain bass player.
She took a breath, swallowed, and nodded. “Ye– Yeah, let’s, um…”
He knelt back down between her legs, gingerly cupping her knees. “You trust me, right?”
Duchess furrowed her brow. That was a loaded question. Did she trust Sparrow? No, not with her belongings. Not with her secrets. Not… Not with her… Not with her heart.
But… She did trust him enough to be here. To let him fuck her. There’s some level of trust there. Maybe that’s all he’s asking. Just really making sure she’s still okay with this.
“Yes, Sparrow,” she nodded again.
He gave her a crooked smile, “Good… Just relax, Duch.”
And with that, he slid his hands back under her skirts, grasping the waistband of her underwear and slowly pulling down.
Her breath picked up as she watched him watch her undergarment travel down her legs. Once they reached her ankles he let go, leaving her to kick them off before he settled himself further between her legs.
And then he did the unthinkable. He lifted her skirt, ducking his head beneath it.
“W– Wait!” She gasped, the realization of his intentions shaking her to her core, “Don't be gross, Sp–Spar- ROW!”
But she was too late. He nipped at her inner thigh, cutting off anything she thought about saying.
And then she felt it. Sparrow’s tongue dragging languidly up the front of her pussy. Like a taste test. Like he was bothering Ginger in the kitchen and licking off her baking spoons.
She choked as his tongue explored further, lapping at her folds like a man desperate for water. This was unlike anything she’s ever felt before. Hot and wet and messy. Completely overwhelming, yet she couldn’t help but yearn for more.
“Hah… Hah… Don’t… Don– Don’t stop,” she panted, hands scrambling to find purchase on anything.
Apparently, Sparrow didn’t need to be told twice. His hands squeezed her hips, their rough texture scratching at her skin and sending shivers up her spine. His nose brushed against her clit. The pressure, the sensations, everything was just right. Almost like the whole ordeal had been specifically designed just to please her. It’s about time he did something good with that mouth.
She couldn’t help it, her legs squeezed together with the mounting pressure and she panted like a dog. Her hands reached out on their own accord, finding purchase in Sparrow’s hair. Something she’d never even consider doing if she could think coherently.
Sparrow made a choked sound as her fingers clenched and pulled at the strands, her nails scratching at his scalp without a care in the world.
Her moans were increasing, louder than they ever had been before. She was close. So so close.
“Don’t stop,” she begged desperately, “Please… Please don’t stop, Sparrow. Oh… Ouh Sparrow, please…”
His thumbs dug into her hips, pulling her closer to him. She was sitting so awkwardly, half off the couch, but she didn’t care. She was so close. He rubbed small circles into her, palming her ass.
And then he had the audacity to hum.
It hit her hard. Every instinct in her bones urging her to clench, to curl into a ball of pleasure incarnate.
As it was, her hands balled into fists, pulling at Sparrow’s hair so hard that it was surely painful. And with the way her thighs locked around his head, it was a wonder if he was still alive.
Oh, but he was. That vile tongue was still going at it as she rode out her orgasm.
By the end of it, Duchess was limp, any and all tension drained out of her body. Her legs unwrapped from around Sparrow’s head, falling to his sides. One arm flopped down to the couch, the other laid across her midsection like it was a typical lazy day and she didn’t just get eaten out for the first time.
Oh hex… She just got eaten out for the first time.
Sparrow sat back on his heels, wiping his mouth with his arm. Gross.
“Was that good?”
The audacity of him. “I am not… stroking your ego for you,” she panted.
He snorted, moving to sit next to her on the couch. “How you feeling?”
“Do you really need me to spell it out for you?”
“It’s nice to hear.”
“I enjoyed my orgasm, Sparrow,” she glared, “But that’s not just what I came here for.”
“Heh, no it isn’t,” he looked to the floor, swallowing, “You think you’re ready for that?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she gave a half shrug, still bathing in the after glow of her orgasm.
“C– Cool, I’ll just…” Sparrow stood up, shucking his shirt and quickly pulling the belt free from his pants. He turned back to her, one leg kneeling on the couch right between her legs. He picked at the ribbon that tied up her corset, struggling to untie the knots.
“How the fuck do you do this?”
Duchess growled, “Forget it. Let's just get on with this.”
Sparrow snorted, “Don't get too eager,”
“Sparrow!”
“Alright. Alright,” he chuckled, looking around for something. “ Shiiiiiit.”
“What is it now!?” she whined. What could he possibly fuck up in the last ten seconds.
Actually, don’t answer that question.
“Hold on,” he waved his hand placatingly as he practically leapt across the room. He looked about ready to tear up the room looking for whatever it was. Digging through drawers, shoving CDs to the side, throwing forgotten t-shirts, digging under a couple beanbags.
Finally, he found what he was looking for, holding it up triumphantly.
A fucking condom.
He tried, and failed, to kick off his boots. Instead opting to leave them on, he unbuttoned his pants, pulling them halfway down his legs. Duchess’ heart leapt to her throat as his cock was revealed and bobbed unabashedly. Red and leaking. You’ll never get her to admit it, but it was big. Definitely bigger than her hand and that was scary. Because this is real and this is happening. And she can’t pretend it’s Daring Charming, she never would’ve been able too. Because it was Sparrow’s hands on her body. It was Sparrow sucking love bites into her neck. It was Sparrow eating her out. And it was so obviously Sparrow right in front of her. It was terrible. It was her nightmares come to light. It was… It was…
She was excited.
Sparrow ripped open the packaging, quickly rolling it over his dick before lowering himself back on the couch, turning Duchess a bit to better fit them both. Something must’ve shown on her face, for Sparrow whispered, “I’ll go slow. I promise.”
And Grimm, she wished he’d stop that. Stop being more than the Sparrow Hood she knows.
She nodded, eyes focusing on the ceiling.
Sparrow grasped her hips, lining himself up. A choked gasp escaped her as the tip pressed against her folds. That gasp turned into a silent scream as he breached her, nails digging into the arm of the couch and one of his shoulders. Sparrow pressed a chaste kiss into her neck, it was almost comforting in a way she care not to describe. She could feel herself stretching to accommodate and her legs spread of their own accord.
But it didn’t hurt.
It was a foreign feeling, definitely, but it wasn’t bad.
She shuddered.
Eventually, her grip on his skin loosened, and Sparrow finally met her eyes. “You okay?” His voice is low and raspier than normal. It almost feels like he’s struggling for breath just as much as she was. Like this night was affecting him just as much as it was affecting her. That’s a nice thought. She’d love the chance to ruin him–
No. No, she wouldn’t.
She finds it in her to nod. Best to bury that thought by distracting herself. And the only way to do that right now is, well…
Sparrow slowly pulled back out. The feeling of him leaving her is just as foreign as him entering. But a part of her mourns the loss. She needs more.
He pushed back in, a bit faster. He sets a low pace. Easy for her.
Her legs spread wider with need.
“F– Faster, please.”
“ Fuck Duchess… ” he hissed. “I don’t think I’ve heard you say please before today, you know that?”
“Stop talking,” she growled, “Just fucking– FUCK!”
Sparrow snorted, but obliged, increasing the pace substantially.
Duchess’ moans only increased, slowly morphing into wanton honks as he hit her spot over and over and over again, but she didn’t have it in her to care. Her back arched, her breasts pressing flush against his chest as he rutted into her. Her legs hooked around him, ankles locking together because there’s no way you’re keeping this orgasm from her.
She was so close and yet so far. Sparrow was too, she just knew it. His thrusts grew more erratic as he buried his face into her neck, grunts and heavy breaths escaping him.
Duchess’ arms wrapped around his neck, as if she could pull him any closer. One of his hands slipped down from its place on the couch and rubbed circles into her clit, completely stealing her breath away.
It didn’t take long after that. Her moans reached a crescendo and her eyes blanked. Her senses were completely overtaken with pleasure. She couldn’t feel, couldn’t see, couldn’t taste. The only thing she could hear was the sound of her own heartbeat ready to beat out of her chest.
When vision returned to her, she went limp. Her legs fell to the sides and her arms draped lazily over the arm of the couch. Sparrow thrust into her a few more time as she rode out the aftershocks before burying himself into her as he came. His nose dug into her neck and an exhale escaped his teeth.
They stayed there for a few moments, panting, chests lightly grazing each other.
Duchess peeked at him from the corner of her eye. All sweat damp and winded, he seemed more… human to her. Like they were the same. Though, maybe it's not that he’s less than human and more she doesn’t always feel human.
She certainly felt human now as feeling returns to her. She could already feel her back aching after so many awkward positions on the couch. She could feel her neck pulsing with the promise of new bruises she knows she’s going to tear into him for tomorrow.
But for now, this was nice. The quiet. A moment where she didn’t have to think of anything at all.
Of course, Sparrow had to ruin it.
He slowly pulled out of her. She almost whined at the loss, but she still had some of her dignity. Duchess closed her eyes as he walked away, pulling the condom off and, hopefully, throwing it in the trash.
When he returned, he draped a blanket over her. It smelled like cigarettes. But it led to Duchess realizing her top was still down and her skirts were pushed up, so she took the opportunity to quickly restore her modesty.
Sparrow sat a bottle of water on the coffee table in front of her. He sat down with his own blanket on the other side of the couch.
She did not feel bitter about that. She didn’t.
“You can spend the night if you want,” he said quietly, “But it's just gonna get colder, so…”
“So you’re kicking me out?”
“NO!” he choked, “I’m just saying. I know you hate it here.”
She nodded. She did hate it here, probably even more now. This couch especially, now that its forever marked with the reminder of what they just did.
“So it was good, right?” he asked, “Didn’t hurt?”
Duchess shook her head, “Ye– Yeah, it was… It was good. Thank you, Sparrow.”
“You’re spoiling me tonight,” he chuckled, “Please and thank you.”
She snorted, “Well, you better appreciate it. Because it's never happening again.”
“ Right,” he said, and Duchess wasn’t sure what to make of how flat his voice sounded.
“What about me?”
“What about you?”
“Was I everything you wanted?”
Sparrow furrowed his brow, “Duchess, what the fuck are you talking about?”
“Oh come on, don’t deny it,” she rolled her eyes.
“Deny what, Duchess?”
“That you only only hang around me for my body,” she blurts before she can stop herself, “Weren’t just waiting for your chance to get under my skirt?”
“What? Why would you think that?” Sparrow almost seemed hurt. But that couldn’t be right, how could you be hurt by the truth?
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because we’re friends! Friends don’t do that to each other,” his eyes narrowed, “ Sorry for making you feel that way,” he said, disdain beginning to drip into his voice.
“Well, why else would someone like you want to spend time with me?” she scoffed.
“Look, I get that you’re a bitch, Duchess, but have you ever thought that maybe I like spending time with you. I mean, fuck, don’t you like hanging out with me? At least a little bit? Or am I just something for you to use every once and a while?”
Duchess couldn’t answer that. Why couldn’t she answer that? He’s wrong obviously, so why can’t she just say that?
“We’re friends…” she said quietly, eyes fixed on her hands in her lap.
“I fucking hope so,” Sparrow frowned, standing up to retrieve his shirt.
“I’m… I’m still not used to friends,” she willed herself to say. Sparrow deserved that at least. As much as she loved Lizzie and Fay, there was always a barrier put between them that Duchess placed herself. It was there with Sparrow too, taller and stronger than the others. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t… That wasn’t fair of me.”
Sparrow sighed, “Apology accepted.” He sat back down, guitar in hand, and began to pluck at the strings.
“I think I need to be alone right now,” Duchess swallowed, standing to put on her shoes. She didn’t bother to pull her tights back on, she’ll just carry them.
Sparrow nodded mutely, not sparing her a glance.
She stepped up to the open window–that window was always open– and shifted into swan form, taking off into the night.