[ it’s not the first time and it’s far from the last time he’ll consider ignoring ash’s instructions completely, on account of them being fucking insane. case in point: the pink panties balled up in his fist, since he’s been tasked to deliver them back to their original owner. the owner who happens to be the cute, freckled blonde, trapped in this snowy hell with the three of them.
ash must have fucking planned this.
there’s enough space in their lodge, in theory, to avoid their two guests. at least for embry there is, who is seasoned in avoidance. whatever ash wants to get up to with gwen — that’s his business, even if embry manifestly believes it’s also his business. ever since ash brought up the possibility that he’d like to be dominated in a way that embry can’t quite provide, he’s been hyper fucking surly about the comings and goings of ash’s dick. which, to be fair, really hasn’t been far.
but now, this. an order to return the panties, and embry can only go so long with disobeying before there are actual consequences to be had. to make matters worse, it’s been particularly impossible to avoid crossing the mistletoe, his fingers icy and his breath tight with cold despite the crackling fireplace, approaching gwen where she sits curled on the sofa, a book in hand. embry looks the part of the model that lounges on the furniture to make any room more enticing — white trousers, a pinstriped button-down peeking out from beneath a slate gray sweater, his eyes as blue as the sharp winter sky.
in his hand, the offending panties. color dusks his cheeks, his jaw flexing as he imagines ash’s voice spilling filth into her ear, her cunt slick and nipples pulled tight. he gives her an aggrieved look, his cock stirring despite the chill settling in his bones. ]
I took these from Ash. [ what he did with them, he only hopes she doesn’t ask. ] I’m told they’re yours.
→ action (cabin fever)
ash must have fucking planned this.
there’s enough space in their lodge, in theory, to avoid their two guests. at least for embry there is, who is seasoned in avoidance. whatever ash wants to get up to with gwen — that’s his business, even if embry manifestly believes it’s also his business. ever since ash brought up the possibility that he’d like to be dominated in a way that embry can’t quite provide, he’s been hyper fucking surly about the comings and goings of ash’s dick. which, to be fair, really hasn’t been far.
but now, this. an order to return the panties, and embry can only go so long with disobeying before there are actual consequences to be had. to make matters worse, it’s been particularly impossible to avoid crossing the mistletoe, his fingers icy and his breath tight with cold despite the crackling fireplace, approaching gwen where she sits curled on the sofa, a book in hand. embry looks the part of the model that lounges on the furniture to make any room more enticing — white trousers, a pinstriped button-down peeking out from beneath a slate gray sweater, his eyes as blue as the sharp winter sky.
in his hand, the offending panties. color dusks his cheeks, his jaw flexing as he imagines ash’s voice spilling filth into her ear, her cunt slick and nipples pulled tight. he gives her an aggrieved look, his cock stirring despite the chill settling in his bones. ]
I took these from Ash. [ what he did with them, he only hopes she doesn’t ask. ] I’m told they’re yours.