	It was now nearing 9 months since the chaos of the Civil War, and Tony actually felt comfortable with his team. Carol and Rhodey worked flawlessly together, which always caused Peter and Tony teasing him. During one of the team exercises Peter and Tony watched as Carol went against Hope, and how both were holding out rather well.

	“Major Danvers is so cool.” Peter sighed as Carol threw Hope out of the ring.

	“Tell me something I don’t know.” Tony chuckled.

	“Colonel Rhodes is gonna ask Major Danvers out after this.” Peter said, smiling up at his mentor. It was a running joke between the two of them, saying something new when the other said ‘tell me something I don’t know’ or ‘what else is new’. It was nice, having that type of relationship again. Tony didn’t think he’d ever have that again, not after the Civil War.

	“You’re joking. Tell me you’re joking.” Tony gaped at him. Peter laughed.

	“Nope! Heard him muttering to himself this morning. He wanted to wait till after the training so ‘Tones isn’t there to mess with me’.” Peter deepened his voice to mimic Tony’s best friend. Tony started cracking up.

	“That is precious! Oh I so want to mess with my honey bear now.” Peter looked alarmed, before putting a hand on his arm.

	“Oh please don’t Tony, or we’ll have to watch them flirt for even longer!” He whined. Tony just chuckled, smiling warmly at the boy. He finally got Peter to start calling him ‘Tony’ instead of ‘Mr. Stark’ which he considered a win.

	“Fine fine, I won’t bother him.” He looked to Carol helping Hope up. “Hey Major! We done here? Spidey’s gotta get home soon!” He called. Even though no one outside of the compound knew his identity, Peter had gotten comfortable enough to let other’s see him without his mask, and some to even know his name. Carol laughed, heading over to them.

	“Of course. We’ll see you this weekend right Peter?” Since coming out to his aunt, Peter started spending every other weekend at the compound, in the east wing with Tony. Peter nodded, bouncing a bit.

	“Yup! After Tony and I have dinner with May.”

	“That’s right it’s Thai night this Friday right? Wouldn’t miss it.” Tony ruffled his hair before heading to the door, knowing Peter would follow. “Oh and Honey Bear!” He called to Rhodey who was standing on the opposite side with a tablet. Once he looked up to the genius Tony grinned madly. “Good luck!” At hearing his friend sputter he cracked up as he put his arm around his mentee.

	“Tony you’re so mean!” Peter exclaimed, but laughed still. Tony chuckled, following the kid out to the front of the compound. “I’ll text you when I get home ok?” He was already wearing his spider suit from training, and he had his bag slung over his shoulder.

	“You better. Also try not to find too much trouble on the way home. It is a school night and May will kill me if you’re too late!” Tony smirked at him, knowing full well Peter would usually stop a few muggings or what not before getting into his Queens apartment.

	“I know I know! She yelled at me for twenty minutes last time!” Peter laughed, pulling his mask over his face. “Night Tony!” Tony waved, watching Peter leave. Once he knew the kid was gone he headed down to his lab. He had work to do, both for the Avengers and SI. First he’d work on finding more for his team. He had already reached out to a team in Hell’s Kitchen that called themselves the Defenders, and he was hoping to hear back from either a Luke Cage or a Jessica Jones. He was looking into a ‘Xavier Institute’ when Friday interrupted.

	“Boss, something’s wrong with Peter. I lost contact with Karen while he was stopping an assault and I cannot reconnect with her.” Friday spoke, sounding alarmed and concerned. Tony froze for half a second before bolting out of his lab.

	“Give me last coordinates Fri, and let Carol and Rhodey know what’s up. Do we still have the training wheels protocol installed?” He said as soon as his armor was around him. He was still working on his nano tech to create the ‘Bleeding Edge’ armor he wanted, but for now his Mark XLVII would do.

	“We have limited training wheels protocol, at least enough we can see what Peter saw before disconnection. I’ve already alerted Colonel Rhodes and Major Danvers.” Friday flew the suit while Tony watched on one of the HUD screens a visual come up. Looked like Peter hadn’t listened and was stopping three thugs from trying to hurt…a homeless girl? And things were ok, until one of the thugs stomped their foot and Tony could only watch in strange fascination as the street suddenly broke apart and shot up, trying to hurt Peter.

	“What the…Friday what am I seeing here?!” He watched then as Peter jumped away, only to be shocked suddenly electrocuted by another thug, causing the feed to cut.

	“I’m…not sure boss. I’ve been trying to go through it to see what they’re using to cause such damage but I’m not finding anything visual.” They were nearing where Peter last was.

	“Hopefully we’ll get some answers, and the kid’s ok.” Tony was trying not to panic, but he could feel it slowly bubble up. They made it to the street, and Tony landed, seeing Peter in full Spider-Man gear unconscious. The street looked like something had ripped out of it, and when he landed all eyes turned to him. “Scuse me, you have a permit to tear up the street like this?” He called out, seeing that the thugs were two guys and a girl. The one from the video who had torn up the street before stepped up, but before he could stomp again Tony raised his repulsors at him, causing him to pause.

	“Now now, let’s not do anymore damage.” Tony was concerned because Peter hadn’t moved yet.

	“We’re just here to get one of ours back.” The other guy yelled, grabbing at the homeless looking girl who had been trying to stay between Peter and the three.
“Seems like she doesn’t want to go with you.”

	“She doesn’t have a choice.” The woman growled. “Come now Ana, you’ve cause enough trouble. Just come back and Father will forgive you.” She spoke to the girl, who had to be no older then 15-16. The girl looked to Tony, blue grey eyes focusing on him, before back to the woman.

	“He’s right Rebecca. I don’t want to go back and I am not going back.” Her voice quivered only a bit at the end, but she still stared them down.

	“Really?” The woman sneered. “You’d abandon your family?!”

	“The only family I have there is Michael and Mia, and I will get them back. But I’m not going with you, I will not go back to your precious Father, and I’m not letting you near Spiderman!” Ana yelled back at her.

	“You heard the little lady.” Tony said as he stepped forward. “Back off.” He could see exactly when the stomping man decided to act and shot up before the concrete that he was standing on exploded. “How are you doing that?” He questioned, Friday already running through what was seen. He shot at the stomper, knocking him out with a sonic blast.

	“Sorry, tricks of the trade” The other man growled, watching as Tony landed next to Peter. Tony then let his helmet retract as he kneeled and checked Peter’s pulse. It was going strong, letting the tension Tony had easily fall off before glaring at the woman who seemed to be itching to get closer to the three of them.

	“Back off. Now.” He straightened, letting his helmet fold over him and lifted one of his repulsors on her. Ana seemed to move closer to him, and he glanced over to notice she was removing her torn up clothes.

	“You heard Iron Man. Back off. Go sniveling back to Johnathan.” Apparently having Iron Man next to her gave her more confidence.

	“Keep talking shit Ana but you know damn well if we keep coming up empty handed Father will just take it out on Michelle. Little freak deserves—” The woman was cut off by what looked to be a white ribbon shooting out and wrapping around her neck, choking her. For a moment Tony thought Peter had woken up, and that maybe whatever caused him to collapse make his web shooters act up, but no. It wasn’t Peter at all. He turned to see that it was coming…from Ana? She had her hand out towards the woman, ribbon coming out of her palm. It looked like it had ripped straight out of her flesh and continued to pull itself out as the woman continued to be choked and then raised from the ground.

	“Shut up Rebecca. Shut up shut up shut up!” Ana snarled, and Tony could see Rebecca was starting to turn purple.

	“Kid…” He gently touched her shoulder. “You’re gonna kill her. And I don’t think your siblings would appreciate you doing that…so just…unribbon her?” She had flinched when he touched her, but seemed to listen and dropped Rebecca. The ribbon then shuttered and dissolved into thin air. “Good, that’s good. You alright?” He kept an eye at the now coughing woman and her last companion, but wanted to make sure the teen wasn’t hurt.

	“As alright as possible in this situation.” She said, looking up to him. She was now holding her hand that had the ribbon come out, as if in pain.

	“That’s ok, let’s get these two apprehended and you can tell me what’s going on.” Tony spoke softly, and turned when he heard a groan from behind him. “You alright Spider-Man?” He asked, keeping a repulsor on the two while helping Peter up.

	“Mr. Stark? Er..Tony…Iron Man yeah I’m just…what happened?” Seems that Peter was a little confused but took his hand, shaking his head. “Last thing I remember is—” He looked at Ana, then the two other people, and pulled Ana away to be shielded by himself and Tony. “These guys have been assaulting homeless people! And they were trying to take her!” He got into an offensive position.

	“Yeah caught that. Let’s get them taken care of yeah?” Tony let his repulsor hum to life, watching as the woman Rebecca put her hands close together to create a spark of electricity. That must’ve been what shocked Peter. The other man stepped back and began to chant Before Rebecca could do anything Peter webbed her hands, and then tried to web the other. It hit something invisible, like a wall of some sort so it didn’t hit him. He continued to chant, not noticing a strange orange portal opening up behind him.

	“Whoa, what is that?!” Peter asked, stepping back. Tony felt the icy prick of panic in his chest. He never got over portals after New York, and wasn’t sure what going to happen. To his surprise golden sparking chains suddenly shot out and wrapped up the chanting man, cutting him off.

	“The fuck?!” He yelled, struggling. From the portal stepped out a man that looked familiar to Tony. He wore strange blue robes, and had a god awful red cape that seemed to move with no wind around.

	“One of yours?” He asked the girl behind him.

	“No…none of them can do portals like that.” She said, stepping up to stand by Peter.

	“Apologies for interrupting this…scuffle.” The man called to them, looking at the mess of the street. “But I figured you may need help when it came to magic.Tony and Peter looked at each other confused, before Tony lowered his repulsor slightly.

	“So you’re…here to help?” The portal behind the man shut, and he chuckled at Peters question.

	“Yes. We sensed abnormal magic and so I came to find out what was going on.”

	“And you are what? The king of magicians?” Tony asked, seeing the cape behind him move almost as if it had a mind of its own. The man chuckled but shook his head.

	“No. My name is Doctor Stephen Strange. I’m the sorcerer supreme.”


Sex has never this big, life-changing thing for me. I've had a couple long-ish relationship, drunken one night stands I don't care to remember, and the occasional hook up that should've never happened in the first place. With the exception of a few close relationships, sex has always been a means to an end. Whether I was horny or in need of some companionship—sometimes both—someone just as desperate would always be there to scratch that itch. Sometimes even multiple people if I was in the right mood. Then I would go about my daily routine, taking care of my needs with the help of a trusty rabbit, until I craved that all too familiar touch; seeking it out in some hyped up club or an obnoxiously loud and packed frat party. I've had some really great sex and some...not so great, but never has it been this mind-blowing thing for me. That is until I met him.

The thing is, I wasn't even supposed to go to that party. At first I turned down the invitation from my friend, making up some lame excuse about studying and still recovering from the bar the previous night. I only accepted my friend's nagging requests to go with her when I found out the party was hosted by the infamous wealthy kid; my piqued curiosity getting the best of me. Hey, she wasn't any better. I found out weeks later she just wanted to go to potentially hook up with a guy she'd been chasing after for most of the year. We all had our reasons to go to that party; some shallow and some not so shallow, but mine was never to find someone who would completely change my ideas of love and relationships forever.

We're not a perfect couple by any stretch of the imagination, but our relationship works for us. We love each other, we communicate, and are open and honest with each other. Plus he's fucking hot, the conversations are great, and the sex is pretty damn awesome, so...you know...add those to the pro side of the list. All in all, if it came down to it, I would be incredibly happy just being with him in what society deems to be a "normal relationship".

However, normal...never really been our thing.

~~~~~~~~~~

As open as most of the floor plan was for Rush, through secret doors and down long, darker corridors of the upper floor hid smaller rooms for the members to seek out and explore; some comparatively tamer than others. Each room varied in size and decor; from old world elegance to sleek and modern to a futuristic playground and everything in between. The masquerade of it all was beginning to wind down, but the majority of the upper floor was still packed with members enjoying all the main areas and all of the secluded rooms.

The majority of the members still had their masks on, wanting to prolong the fantasy, but some did opt to take them off while they had the freedom to do so. Down on the first floor, Rush strictly prohibited any patron or member from taking off their masks, but allowed members to take them off on the upper floors. This was to ensure the anonymity and privacy of everyone while still giving members an option if they do choose to.

The low lights from various antique fixtures casted a reddish golden glow around the room, beautifully decorated to look like a vintage french parlor. Smoke, sex and that uniquely Rush scent engulfed the room, encapsulating the gathering group of members watching one of the current shows of four women slowly eating each other out. Their bodies looked rather uncomfortable tangled amongst each other, looking as if they fell into their current positions on the cozy makeshift bed. However, from the loud pitch of their muffled moans, I doubt any of them really cared about the weird positions they were in.

Fuck, he looked hot with his cock in her mouth. His eyes were closed, head tilted back, and his soft breaths passed through his parted lips. Her soft pink lips were wrapped tightly around his cock; well paced bobs of her head caused him to grab onto a large chunk of her honeyed curls. She seemed to really enjoy this from her muffled moans and her French tipped nails scraping down his bare thighs.

An open bottle of Moet in a silver ice pail sat idle on the low antique wood table between us; condensation forming on the thick green glass. Two empty champagne glasses also sat on the table next to a half eaten cheese board with Lorde's brooding voice flowing through speakers situated around the open area. I would never in a million years mind a quiet Saturday night at home, watching Netflix and chilling under the covers with him. However, watching him get a blowjob from a gorgeous model while I sipped on expensive champagne as her equally gorgeous significant other fingered my already wet pussy, wasn't a bad situation to be in either.

I smirked from behind the champagne glass as I caught the attention of those dark and hooded eyes. They were an even better site to see them gazing at me from across the seating area; the passionate stare warming my body more than any champagne flowing throughout my body could ever do. His raspy groan carried across the room when her tongue slowly dragged along the underside of his cock, just before moving down to suck his swollen balls. She then wrapped her small hand around the base and leisurely jacked him off; small beads of precum spurting slowly from the reddened tip.

"Who do you want to be?"

"Either," I said, moaning as the dark eyes slowly averted down to watch her tongue lick the dripping pearls. "Both."

Michael chuckled, his fingers slowly teasing my clit. "You know, she's talked about the two of you before?"

"She has?"

"I wasn't at the agency at the time she met you. But, when we really got to know each other, she told me about the two of you."

"Did you know at the time you knew one of us?" I asked, setting my empty glass on the end table next to me.

"Kind of," Michael said, turning into me when my hand splayed over the bulge in his pants. "You didn't sounds familiar at all, obviously since I hadn't met you yet. But when she described him, something about it sounded a little familiar. Never thought it actually would be someone I knew."

I let out a shuddered breath and watched his eyes again meet mine from across the room, biting my lip at the sexy grin that appeared when I opened my legs a little more. His eyes moved down and watched Michael's fingers continue their slow torture on my wet pussy. "It's a small world I guess."

Another moan left my lips when I felt the little nip of Michael's teeth on the outer shell of my ear. "Yeah it is," he said and placed tender kisses across my neck.

The groans underneath my ear and soft bites sent a shiver down my spine, prolonging it with a graze of his rough thumb over my hardened nipple. My hand slowly massaged the growing bulge in his pants, feeling the soft leather of his belt against my forearm; fleeting thoughts of another belt passing through my mind. I wanted to watch him completely come undone, relish in the groans and sharp breaths caused by her, but my eyes finally slid shut when Michael slipped two of his fingers inside me. Fuck, he was good at this.

My foot kicked the leg of the table as I slipped my heels off, catching the attention of him. Loud drunken laughter, low chatter, and a variety of sexual clamor was heard all around the room, including some distant moaning yells from outside the doors. It was not uncommon for members to continue their playful trysts right out in the halls. The sound of a loud bang against the stark white walls, a soft thud to the white marbled floors. Sex was everywhere in Rush, you couldn't escape it. Not that anyone was really trying to. We all craved it, embraced it here. We all found relief here from the monotonous daily grind, found solace here from the pressures of social expectations, and found support here to go about our lives the way we truly wanted to live them.

At this very moment, I was getting finger-fucked by the friend of the only person I could pretty much see spending the rest of my life with while he was intently watching the whole debauched scene from across room, getting an amazing blowjob from said friend's significant other. None of us were jealous or cheating or embarrassed. Instead, we were enjoying each other, indulging and losing ourselves to the sexually charged moment.

Michael's eyes widened when I pushed him back onto the couch, but his face instantly changed when I climbed into his lap and kissed him. It was different than his, though, not in a bad way. It just wasn't him. But, in some weird way, it made me want him even more. I craved his lips, his touch, his scent all around me. Those delicious groans in my ear, hands dragging over me, lips and tongue teasing me down to my very soul. I needed him, but I also wanted them.

His hands hesitated slightly on the loose tie around my waist. "Don't think," I moaned into his mouth, my teeth nibbling his bottom lip. "Just feel. Look at them. Look around you."

We both turned to see her sliding a condom down his cock, aimlessly chatting about something we couldn't hear due to all of the noise. Soft laughter could be seen between the two as he spread out onto the vintage cream tapestry French sofa, helping her to straddle his hard cock. One of the staff members walked behind the couch to one of the large fireplaces throughout the room, tending to the fire as she slid down onto him; moans loudly coming from both of them.

I turned my head and leaned down, my tongue slowly tracing the shell of his ear. "Doesn't it make you want her even more?" I said in a whisper so quiet, I'd be surprised if he even heard me. The tie was gone in an instant, along with my robe, his shirt and the leather belt. All of it thrown haphazardly onto the hardwood floor as he pulled me into his rough kiss.

The crescendo of moans and murmurs swelled to a deafening pitch as the women came in writhing succession. Onlookers watched from various vantage points while others participated with the women, reaching their high along with them. Long legs tangled together, hands petting over sensitive areas, and lips fully consumed in one another; the waves of their orgasms dissipating amongst gawking eyes. When the show was complete, they climbed gracefully off the rumpled bed, seamlessly making way for the next act.

A low, sensual jazzy intro played as a large male climbed onto the bed, face down and spread out, waiting for what was to come. White stilettos clicked on the wooden floor, signaling the entrance of a very tall woman, clad in low hung white leather pants that looked almost painted on, and a matching sleeveless crop top that barely held in her perfect breasts. A fiery reddish orange messy bun sat gracefully on top of her head and full lips painted the perfect shade of red grinned with every gasp and moan floating her way.

The condom easily slid down Michael's hard cock; his fingers gliding through my hair as his eyes were glued to them. Head thrown back, teeth firmly attached to her bottom lip, and curls wrapped tight around his hand, her breast bounced as she rolled her hips into him. His other hand slid over her hip, gripping harder with every thrust into her. I could almost hear the low groan from him, and it caused me to shiver with thoughts of other times I've heard that sexy groan.

I was so in my own little world that I barely heard Michael say, "Turn around." I sheepishly mouthed a sorry, but the small smile on his face told me he wasn't too upset. Face them, no sense in only one of us watching them."

A loud male moan came from the other side of the room as the redhead slowly slid a large dildo into his prepped hole. The black straps surrounding her legs and hips contrasted with the tight white leather. Her red lips left a stained mark in the center of his back as she began her slow, torturous thrusts. Strong fists grabbed onto the silver chains connected from his wrists to the black iron bed frame, clanging with each pull upon the dildo's hard impact against his prostate.

"Shit you feel good," I said, moaning with each inch down his cock. "Don't hold back either, I don't mind it rough."

Michael's hands gripped my hips, lips dragged over my shoulder, and my eyes closed when I felt the sting of his teeth biting into the crook of my shoulder. "I've heard," Michael said, feeling him grin against my skin as he ran his tongue along the bite. Other members wandered all around the four of us; some stopping to watch for a bit, but most of them just gazed on as they passed around to the various performances.

His skin glistened from the sultry heat permeating the room. Fingers slid slow up her side and kneaded her breast, his thumb brushing over her taut nipple. Worn pink lips were opened wide as breathy moans flowed from them. With everything going on around me, I couldn't take my eyes off of them; hips thrusted faster into every roll of her bucking hips. "They look hot together," I said, my pace increasing when I felt one of his hands moved between my spread legs.

"They are, though, I wouldn't mind seeing you and her together again."

I let out a small laugh that quickly changed to a moan when his fingers circled over my clit. "Did we put on a good show for you two?"

"That you did," Michael said, groaning into my neck and sucking just underneath my ear.

"I'm curious to see you and him together."

It was now his turn to laugh, except his felt a little loaded. We both fell into a steady fuck; my mind picturing the two of them together, wondering what sort of past the two of them had. Our eyes darted between watching them and the large male trying to arch his back as far as he could while still being chained to the bed. Animalistic groans accompanied by low whimpers, sharp squeaking and a rhythmic metallic tone were now heard all around the room. The woman had one hand gripped tight against his hip, while the other was switching between gentle strokes over his ass and painting his back a deep red with her gold-foiled pointed nails.

"I want him to tell you. I wouldn't feel right telling you his side. But, I will say college was...an interesting time for all of us."

I nodded my head, barely registering what he mumbled against my ear. My eyes continued to focus on the two of them as they both neared their orgasms. My moans grew louder from the combination of them, Michael's cock inside me and his fingers dancing over my clit nearly pushed me over the edge. I willed myself to continue watching the intimately public scene, but they kept slipping shut every single time his cock drove deeper inside me.

"Keep watching them, don't close your eyes. They're almost there."

We watched as both of them came, heads thrown back in pulsating pleasure. My brain officially fried with watching his face as he completely came undone. Swollen lips parted, groaning and heavy panting as her hands ran all along the ridges of his abdomen. His head slightly turned, his dark eyes finding mine and I couldn't hold it anymore. My orgasm rushed through me, body convulsing as I desperately tried to keep my eyes on him. I kept on rocking my hips and Michael came shortly after; strained groans lightly tickled my neck.

He grinned when he saw me grab Michael's hand and slowly suck on the fingers he used to play with me.

I heard Michael's chuckle before he said, "When you speak to him again, tell him he has a keeper."

~~~~~~~~~~

Stark white with accents of aqua blue, the room was a complete polar opposite to the comforting warmth of the last room. Even though the last room was open, it still had more intimate seating areas and quieter alcoves away from the main area. This room, however, was completely open; save for ten thick and glossy white columns lining the sunken middle of the room. Furniture of various sizes, carved from what looked to be large blocks of clear and aqua glass, were on display as if they were pieces of art instead of seating for the packed crowd.

A large bar area in the same clear and aqua block of glass lined the back wall. Members chatted away while they all waited for their drinks to be served by the efficient bar staff. Intermittent flashes of white and aqua came up from the frosted glass floor around dancers perched on large glass cubes. Their naked bodies were adorned with clear heels as they twirled gracefully around glass poles filled with a flowing aqua liquid. It felt as if we walked through the door and were transported to another world. The only thing that remotely reminded me of where we were was the unique Rush scent being pumped throughout the room, driving me insane with each teasing caress of his hand over the small of my back.

After we discussed that we would meet up with them after she gave Michael a tour around, we continued into the futuristic room and went to order something from the bar. His arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me into him as we both watched the raised main stage of a woman hung face up and horizontally by intricately tied white ropes all around her body. Thin streaks of neon green highlights contrasted nicely through her ink black hair; the long strands swinging back and forth with each violent slap of the flogger against her dripping and swollen red pussy. Her strangled cries of pleasure barely rang over the pulsating beat, blinded only by the tight black scarf covering her eyes to the intent group seated around the stage.

His hand wrapped tight around my slightly moving hips, guiding rather than stopping my teasing ministrations. "And you call me a tease," He said into my ear when I laid my head back against his shoulder.

"Can't help it, I missed you."

"You did?" he kissed my temple; a shiver running through my body when he moved to finger the tie around my waist.

"Lots."

His moan lingered in my ear as I turned around in his arms; a slow and gentle kiss placed on his lips. "Missed you too. Are you having fun?"

"Yeah, but I'm glad to be back with you."

"Are you alright?"

My eyebrows furrowed. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"We've done a bit before, but this is your first time like this."

"You prepared me for it, you comforted me after. What more could I ask for? Don't worry, I'm doing fine. I was a little shook afterwards, but it's gone now."

As I looked up at him, my mind drifted into his hungry kiss. 'the only person I could pretty much see spending the rest of my life with...'. Was my sleep-deprived mind playing tricks on me? Time seemed to pass so slowly without it. Phones were strictly prohibited, neither one of us had a watch on, and from the looks of it there were no clocks displayed anywhere in Rush. When we first entered, it was a refreshing feeling to disconnect from the outside world and enjoy the sinful night ahead. But now, the low rhythmic beat from the sound system felt as if it was blaring in my head. It felt stifling and a little unnerving to be in the midst of this ever growing crowd, and I felt my body tense the more I kept thinking of it.

His lips left mine and my heart swelled; barely hearing the soft words uttered against my ear. No words were needed between us after that. No matter who we were with, no matter who was around us, it always felt like we were in our own little world; enjoying each other and basking in the love and trust we had for each other. He moved his hand to my cheek and looked down at me with slight concern in his eyes.

"Trust me, I'm fine."

"Excuse me?"

We both looked and saw the next bartender ready for us. "Are you ready to order?"

"Sorry, yes thank you."

Unlike the other rooms, the bar in this room only displayed a six drink menu typed out in beautiful hexagonal font, against a glossy black cardstock, and surrounded in a frame of clear and aqua glass. Each ridiculously neon drink was mixed to each members specific need, poured into crystal glasses, and topped with different things depending on the drink.

Once we got our drinks, we took a seat at one of the long sofas along the wall. Curled up against him, we continued watching the performance, hands comfortably locked together. With each second that passed by, my body physically ached for him to be inside me. Even the sweet but slightly bitter neon pink drink couldn't cool me down and quench the thirst I was suffering from. Only one thing was on my mind at the moment, and no amount of distraction was going to alleviate the throbbing throughout my body.

I sat my drink down the table in front of me and straddled his lap, giggling with the surprise look on his face. Taking his drink, I set it on the table next to him and kissed him hard. Groans muffled behind my kiss turned to low growls as my hips rolled into the growing bulge beneath his black pants. Desperate hands were now kneading my ass, and a lone 'fuck' was all I heard when I pulled back, biting his bottom lip before sliding off his lap and onto my knees.

"I want that blowjob now," I said, smiling as my teasing fingers dragged down the obvious bulge.

He spread his legs wider and his fingers slipped through my hair, watching my shaking hands slip the black leather belt off. I undid his pants, sliding my hand inside and pulled out his hard cock; my hungry eyes staring into his half closed ones. "Fuck, I'm not stopping you."

Drinks forgotten and members ignored, I ran my tongue along the underside of his cock, swirling my tongue around the head; precum already coating my swollen lips. One last swipe over his head and I slid my lips down his cock, feeling the long groan reverberate through my body and the pain of his hand gripping my hair. My hand grabbed the base of his cock, slowly stroking while my other hand played with his balls; the weight of them made my mental tongue water.

Whatever words came from him were lost to the next rhythmic beat and the next participant's strangled moans and screams. I could've cared less of what or who was around us; passersby, gawkers, avid watchers. My mouth was filled with his cock, hair pulled tight into his fist, and my pussy throbbed with the prospect of his cock buried deep inside me. Head bobbing to the rhythm, I felt his other hand move to play with my breast, and a muffled yelp came from me when his fingers pinched my hard nipple.

All of a sudden, I was violently pulled from his cock and he kissed me, both of us moaning at our mingling tastes. He pulled me into his lap and I ran the head of his cock over my wet lips, moaning into his neck as I slowly slid down. I unbuttoned his shirt and traced my nails down his chest and stomach, sighing when he untied my robe and sucked lightly on a hard nipple. His rough tongue slowly circled the tip before sucking again, then repeating the process to the other one, lavishing them until a sharp shiver raced through my body.

"I need you," I said, crying out when his fingers moved to circle over my hard clit.

"You have me, sweetheart." He didn't know how much those words meant to me.

Once I was ready, I moved my hips up and down, bouncing into his upwards thrusts. His hands grabbed my hips and pumped into me, drifting down to grab my ass. I went to kiss him and almost bit his tongue at the loud smack vibrating through me.

"Oh fuck yes, sweetheart. You feel so good wrapped around me."

"Again," I begged, my hips moving faster. "Please."

Equal smacks on both cheeks had my head falling backwards, blindly seeking out that pleasure I was looking for. He grabbed my head and pulled me back into him, slowly kissing me; a muffled growl falling between our lips. "That's it, sweetheart. Right there, you're so fucking tight."

My hands dragged up and down his chest, rolling my hips faster with every upwards thrust. He moved a hand up and teased over my nipple before moving up to caress his fingertips over the column of my neck. Pleasure shot through my body at what I hoped he was planning to do. "Yes, please. Do it."

I almost came when his hand squeezed tight around my throat, hips thrusting at that perfect angle. My body trembled under his darken gaze, skin on fire from his touch, but my heart completely melted for him. A random guy I met at a house party has completely and thoroughly ruined me for everyone...and I couldn't have been any happier.

A few more thrusts and we both found our release; bruised lips crashing together, shivering bodies connected as gasping breaths and heated words flew freely from our lips.

"Bite me," I moaned.

His teeth teased over my shoulder, softly biting down at the same time he thrusted upwards, causing my eyes to roll back into my head and my body to shiver. A low, breathy moan came from my mouth when his hand played with my clit, prolonging the orgasm rippling through my body.

"I know..." I said, struggling to get my words out. "I know this is gonna sound really out of place right now, but when we're back home and settled, let's discuss moving in...together."

His dark eyes widened, shining due to the fluorescent aqua recessed lights above us.

"It doesn't have to be right now or even in the coming weeks, but I want to at least have a discussion about it. Cheesy and cliche, but I want to wake up with you next to me and have meals together. I want to come home knowing you'll be there, not on the other end of the phone or a webcam. I..."

"It's not at all. Let's discuss it over dinner...well...today I guess," he said, chuckling at the thing I was nervous about moments before.

"Alright," I said in a giggle, biting my lip. "You know that thing you whispered to me before? Words can't express how much I do for you."

My heart pounded when his smile slowly appeared. I leaned in and kissed him again, using the frenzied chaos of a group of exuberant girls laughing as they walked by to hide the tears that threatened to spill over. If my mind was playing tricks on me, then it wasn't doing a very good job of it.

~~~~~~~~~

I groaned when my eyes opened to the peeks of sun through the curtains, stretching out my body out along the bed. Carefully moving so as to not wake up the other three, I climbed out of the large bed and quickly went out into the common area to grab the red leather bound book sitting next to the phone. The cool air had me shivering as I walked back into the room and curled under the covers, leisurely flipping through the well made book. An extensive menu with food and drinks from all over the world, a variety of sexual goodies that could rival any shop or site, and services for pretty much anything you could think of were shown throughout the beautifully photographed pages.

Startled, I felt her chin lay against my bare shoulder. "What are you doing?" She asked, her fingers tracing where the sheet had fallen and met my hip bone.

"Was in the mood for something," I said, scanning over a particular page of various dildos; meticulously organized by type, material, size and color. Seriously, someone needed a raise for this. "Not really sure what though."

"Come here. I want to show you something."

She grabbed my wrist just as I set the book on the side table and we quietly walked out into the long hallway, barely having time to throw on the completely open white silk robe. Hair wild from a night of amazing sex and lips a mix of both our lipsticks, we'd looked completely crazy in any other situation. But for some reason, here at Rush, it seemed to be a normal occurrence as we passed by other people. From singles to large groups of people, everyone was wearing the same robes and nothing else as they walked to and from their private rooms.

After a short while of searching, we came to a quiet hallway and stood in front of a large silver framed black and white photo. The picture contained a woman who was completely naked with an ivy plant concealing her face, in the throes of an amazing self-induced orgasm. Her quivering body was arched on an oversized oriental rug; perfect breast pushed up, teased nipples hard, and fingers glistening under most likely numerous studio lights.

She tapped her fingernails on the glass protecting the photo and looked at me with a smug smile on her face.

"That's you?" I questioned, my eyes widened to what felt like saucers.

She nodded. "It was hours after my first scene. Afterwards, we went back up to our room, ordered a ridiculous amount of alcohol and spent the rest of the night getting completely high and wasted, fucking in pretty much every room of our suite. The perks of being a celebrity; the best alcohol and drugs money can buy. Around six in the morning and coming down from my high, I had this realization I desperately wanted my picture up on one of their walls."

I listened in awe as she recounted her story and of the photographer, who has been a professional photographer for well over thirty years.

"But of course, being the stubborn brat I am, I had a different idea. I told him I didn't care about my face being seen, but he refused to take the photo any other way; most likely for legal reasons, but I would like to think it was just him looking out for me. After agreeing on what I'd be doing and signed a bunch of forms, I was finally spread out naked on the rug with one of the ivy plants covering my face, masturbating while the photographer got his camera ready for when I was ready to cum."

I stood there trying my hardest not to act too surprised as she tried in vain to cover her laughter and continue on.

"My ass hurt so bad from being spanked earlier that night. My moans echoed so loud in the room, and I remember hearing all the wet noises. I didn't care, I was getting off on how many people would see the photo and think about it as they got off themselves or fucked someone else. How narcissistic, right?"

Taking a deep breath to clear my mind and to process everything she was saying, I said, "Maybe not this extreme. But, I think most people have had those thoughts at least once in their lives, whether they would like to admit it or not."

She laughed at my decent attempt to make her feel like less of a "stereotypical, self-centered model".

"The plant was to conceal my face, but it was low enough to help tease my skin and nipples," she sighed, somewhat drifting off as her fingers dragged over her neck and collarbone. "It felt so good on my sensitive skin."

My mouth wouldn't shut as I heard a group of people walk down the hall, talking about how beautiful it was outside.

"Looking back, I feel bad for the guy. He was only doing was his job, and there was me, high out of my mind and playing with myself on the floor of his studio. But...I finally came and the photo also came out perfect. I got dressed and washed up, thanked him for the opportunity, and left the studio. After a few hours of sleep and a clear mind, we all went to leave the club and I was stopped by both the manager and photographer. They said they would be happy to discard the photo and all forms since I wasn't in the right mindset at the time, but I happily shook my head and told them to go ahead and use the photo."

"But you didn't have to. They would've..."

"I know. But Rush is the only place I've ever felt free. Free to be myself, to be who I want to be. I never have to conform to standards or ideals here. I'm just me and this picture reminds me of that. It doesn't matter if my fans, my management team, or even the outside world do not understand. They don't have to. As long as I'm happy, that's all that matters." She looked at the photo and smiled. "Don't you think?"

I smiled and nodded my head in agreement, knowing this time, her smile was genuinely out of happiness. "Right."

~~~~~~~~~~

The sun shined bright as we all passed through the iron door, cars perfectly parked in front by the valet. We all said our goodbyes, exchanging numbers and promising to get in touch, then watched as her and Michael pulled away. As he opened the door and helped me inside; kissing me as he closed the car door, I was even more confident now than ever that we were stronger than we've ever been before, even with everything that happened behind those closed iron doors. I knew I wasn't ready to take that huge plunge just yet, but when I did, I knew I could only trust him to take it with me.


(Hiccup)

“I said I’m fine!” Hiccup gestured to himself, then jumped on the spot. The soft grass in the glade outside their cave was still slick from the fallen rain under his boots, but a morning sun was finally gracing their nameless island.

“See?”

Toothless did not look convinced. He eyed him suspiciously, pacing around him like a predator does its prey. He produced tiny concerned growls, then louder, angrier ones, puffing small clouds of smoke from his nostrils.

“Why are you pouting?” Hiccup complained. “I told you I’d be fine! The fever is gone like I promised. Look!” He spun around in a spectacle of healthy Viking-ness.

Toothless did not seem amused by the performance. Had he really been so worried?

In the past, Hiccup had suffered plenty of fevers. His mother had always taken care of him when he’d been very little, and, after her death, whenever those days came, it was Gobber or Helga who would occasionally come to check on him at Stoick’s behest. His father, being the chief of the village, did not have the time to care for him when he became ill. Besides, Stoick had never seemed to enjoy spending time at home.

Hiccup had hence gotten used to looking after himself during fevers or colds, for they had been quite common occurrences, and, since concern for someone’s affliction was rarely dispensed among real Vikings (for, like pity, it was sure to offend), Hiccup had never demanded or expected much attention during those times. He had certainly not expected the dragon to fret much over it.

Besides, I told him not to worry about me. He thought, trying to fend off an uncomfortable feeling; it was almost like guilt, but why would he feel guilty?

“Alright, alright, but I’m really fine now. Here, look…”

In a playful, yet awkward attempt to lighten the mood, Hiccup punched the dragon’s jaw to show off his recovered strength.

“Aha! Take that Snotlout!” He said, pretending to fight the imaginary opponent, or, more accurately, pretending to pretend to fight, since he had no actual experience with hand-to-hand combat, besides being occasionally shoved around.

Toothless barely budged behind his weak jabs. It did not look like the dragon was enjoying his antics in the least.

The playful activity was put to an abrupt end when Toothless, teeth fully unsheathed, let out an ear-shattering roar.

Hiccup fell on his back, covering his ears with his hands and instinctively raising his elbows in defense. He had not expected that reaction, and, for a terrifying moment, he thought his friend had transformed into the kind of beast that all Vikings believed dragons to be.

“I’m sorry,” Hiccup blurted out hastily, cowering on the ground. For the first time since the day they had first met, Hiccup felt small before the dragon’s angry form, defenseless.

I probably deserved that, Hiccup thought, finally recognizing the source of that unpleasant feeling of guilt.

Toothless could not have known about his rather frequent fevers, or how dangerous they were. The crippled dragon had most likely been fearing for his own life too, unable to fly without a rider.

I definitely deserved that.

“I’m sorry for worrying you,” Hiccup lowered his hands warily. “I just get sick sometimes. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He did not move from his spot on the ground, still unsure whether his words had actually reached his friend, or whether the dragon before him had become as feral as a pack of wild, angry boars.

 “Bud?” He murmured, his legs shaky with a mixture of fear and lack of strength, which he hadn’t fully regained yet.

Toothless’ eyes softened after a few blinks. He then voiced a soft, apologetic croon, which Hiccup had been breathlessly waiting for. The dragon approached him as he lay on the soft grass, and finally nuzzled his chest.

Hiccup felt relief spread across his limbs at the warm touch. Why he had been so reluctant to apologize in the first place, however, he could not recall.

“I didn’t think you cared so much, you know?” He said, caressing the dragon’s head. “I mean… you stood by my side for two days, you brought me food, you kept cooling my head... Thank you, bud.”

Toothless purred and pressed his muzzle into Hiccup’s chest again. Then, in a fit of glee, the dragon began licking him. First, he lapped his chin, then his entire face. Hiccup could only try to fight his way out of the dragon’s overly-affectionate grasp.

“Toothless! S-stop! Aaah!” Hiccup wailed uselessly, though he couldn’t help laughing too as the dragon’s large tongue coated him with thick layers of drool. “No- Stop- Please, Tooth-!” He suddenly coughed, which made Toothless interrupt his display of affection, allowing Hiccup to stand up.

“Eeew! It’s in my mouth!” Hiccup cried and coughed again, trying to spit out all the dragon saliva that he had managed not to swallow by mistake.

He then produced a revolted grunt, and scraped off the excess slime from his face with his hands, which he wiped on dragon’s own snout, catching Toothless by surprise.

“There. Serves you right.” He said smugly, failing to hide the smirk on his lips.

Toothless frowned, but seemed otherwise unfazed by having his own muzzle covered with spit.

With a sigh, Hiccup sat again on the grass, trying to recover from the exhaustion of fighting his much larger friend. He was going to need a few more days before he could consider himself strong enough to leave this island.

As he sat, contentedly observing some small clouds above being herded by the warm southern winds, and for once not thinking about Berk, Hiccup caught a whiff of what he could only describe as a rather unpleasant, though familiar smell.

“Oh, man! I stink like Gobber after a full day at the forge,” He exclaimed, sniffing under his own armpits, realizing he had not washed for… how long?

During his last couple of weeks on Berk, the troubling thoughts of abandoning the island had made him forget and skip the customary activity of Laugardagr, the weekly Day of Washing. This meant he had not washed properly for no less than fourteen days, perhaps even more.

“Toothless, I seriously need a bath, bud. I reek like a yak!”

Despite the saying that outcasts were supposed to never bathe, Hiccup was not willing to abide by such rule. He did not want to stink, even as an outcast.

Toothless approached him with an eager, gummy smile, his forked tongue readily lolling out.

“No, no, no…! Enough dragon spit! I mean it. Stay. Put. There.” Hiccup commanded in his most authoritative tone, pointing a single prohibitive finger towards his friend, and trying his best not to smile as he did so. “Humans wash with fresh water, not spit.” He explained.

Toothless retracted his tongue with an unhappy warble. Then, sniffing the air, the dragon began to look around with a thoughtful frown.

“What is it?” Hiccup asked, then groaned: “Oh, please don’t tell me there’s someone else on this island!” He was too tired to pull off another hurried escape like the one on Meathead island.

The dragon shook his head, but he gestured with his shoulders for Hiccup to get on him.

“Want to fly? Now? But I just removed your fin, I thought it was starting to chafe.”

Toothless shook his head again.

“I don’t get it,” Hiccup said, grimacing.

A low warbling noise and a soft bark were the only responses he received.

“You know, sometimes I really wish you could speak, bud. It would make everything so much easier.”

The dragon rolled his eyes. He then approached a lingering puddle of muddy rainwater, and splashed his paws in it, casting a meaningful look towards Hiccup. He did it again and again until Hiccup thought he understood.

“Oh, you mean water! You think there’s a river or something?”

Toothless nodded twice.

Hiccup gladly accepted the suggestion, and, after grabbing some of his effects, he allowed his friend to carry him on his shoulders. Toothless wasn’t wearing his saddle or tailfin, so he just trotted into the unburnt patches of forest, towards what Hiccup believed was the sea’s direction. Hiccup could not recall the island’s layout, as they had landed during the night, in the company of an early summer storm.

They soon emerged from the treeline to the sight of a small valley, which descended gradually towards the sea-shore. It was not just the usual valley, though. Where Hiccup expected to see grass or moss or mud, the strange patch of land was dressed all in waves of white. Hiccup slid off the dragon’s back, eyes wide, then leaned to feel the surprisingly solid floor. At first glance, it looked almost like snow, but it was actually a very light-grey kind of rock, smooth and dusty to the touch, like pumice stone or chalk, only denser, harder.

The whole valley was uneven, molded by rain and wind to form gentle hills and bumps, pits and craters, some small as basins, others big as the lake in the cove near Raven Point. They were all made from this kind of pale rock, connected smoothly like dunes of sand on a beach, but rigid, and apparently impermeable too, for rainwater appeared to have filled all the smooth craters to the brim, creating dozens of small interconnected lakes.

As Hiccup looked around, he noticed a very narrow stream emerging from the forest to their far left, pouring even more water into those lakes, which in turn spilled over into the lower ones, and so on, until they reached the sea.

“Whoa… Look at this place,” Hiccup murmured to himself. “Do you think it’s because of the volcano? Is this like… white lava?”

Toothless shrugged absently.

“Aren’t you supposed to know about volcanoes? In the Book of Dragons, Bork says that dragons like to stay near live volcanoes. Don’t they?”

After a small pensive silence, the Night Fury gave another noncommittal shrug.

“You don’t know? How could you not know? Aren’t you at all like the other dragons?”

Toothless scowled and huffed, offended. He then straightened his pose to a more dignified one, his expression smug, head held high, eyelids lowered lazily. In that stance, the dragon looked like an elegant statue carved in black stone. No matter what anyone could say, Night Furies were truly beautiful creatures, and this one clearly knew it.

“Yeah, of course not,” Hiccup said with a scornful look. “You are the bestest of the best. The greatest dragon that ever was or will be.”

Toothless ignored the heavy sarcasm behind those words, nodding solemnly, accepting even that derisive form of flattery. Hiccup could not tell whether Toothless was being ironic himself, but he already knew that the Night Fury before him was by no means a humble one. At least on the outside, for as Hiccup would sometimes notice, the dragon’s eyes seemed to hide a rather different story.

Hiccup approached one of the largest pools, and probed the water with his fingers. The pumice-like floor sloped gradually to a substantial depth, but Hiccup could still see the clear bottom at the center of the pool, filtered through pale-blue colors, rippling as his hand disturbed the surface. The water wasn’t freezing, but it was still quite cold to the touch.

Hiccup laid down his clean clothes. He began undressing, before remembering that Toothless was still there. He turned around.

“Hey, bud, listen, can you… could you…” He trailed off. How was he going to explain? He didn’t even know whether he should. After all, wasn’t Toothless only a dragon? He was that, of course, yet Hiccup had enough proof that Night Furies, and perhaps many more dragons, were just as intelligent, and just as sentient as humans. So, try as he might, Hiccup felt he could not subdue his pathological shyness, even before his best and only friend.

He sometimes cursed himself for that stupid affliction, but he had yet to learn to fight it, not to mention overcome it. Besides, Hiccup had never been forced to. He had never had to wash in Berk’s common bathhouse before, and he had always dreaded the idea, partly because he didn’t want anyone to have definitive proof that, behind those oversized clothes and voluminous fur coat, he was undoubtedly the scrawniest, most pitiful creature in the Barbaric Archipelago.

Much to Hiccup’s relief, the chief’s house was furnished with a rather luxurious round wooden bathtub, as well as a private outhouse. Behind a large drape, at the back of his noble abode, Hiccup had gotten used to an uncommon amount of privacy for Viking standards. In fact, he could almost consider that tub as his very own, since his father preferred going to the bathhouse, for he wouldn’t have to waste time with heating the water, and he could instead use the occasion to further discuss matters of great import with the other men and women of the village. (Stoick the Vast never stopped working, even on Laugardagr.) Still, the man had tried to bring Hiccup along a few times, but Hiccup had always come up with some excuse not to go.

This way, Hiccup had also been able to afford to warm the water as he pleased, for he had the time and freedom to heat as many rocks over the hearth as he wanted, to then drop into the tub. He did not even need to get the water himself. On every day of Laugardagr, the tub was filled anew from the nearby well by the occasional boys, who had the honour to perform small daily tasks for the chief, like delivering messages, or bringing whatever the chief required. There were no slaves on Berk, but the chief did have plenty of hands at his disposal.

At the back of his mind, not without a pang of melancholy, Hiccup wondered if he would ever be able to enjoy that kind of luxury again, or if he was destined to wash in cold ponds and rivers for the rest of his life. The possibility of heating the water with scalding rocks was definitely not an option now, and, come winter, even the ponds would be too cold for washing.

“Can you go back to our camp while I wash myself?” Hiccup finally asked, scratching the back of his neck.

Toothless tilted his head, perplexed.

“Please? I’ll come back when I’m done. I promise. I know the way.”

The dragon’s expression changed. He crooned questioningly, edging closer, instead of going away as he’d been asked.

“No… I- I’d really rather wash alone. I’ll be fine by myself. Please?”

Toothless was clearly unhappy with the prospect of leaving him on his own, and he probably couldn’t begin to understand the ridiculous reasons behind such an unusual request, but he still slid back into the forest, producing petulant little whimpers.

While the apprehensive dragon had always had the tact and consideration not to follow Hiccup whenever he had to relieve himself (something Hiccup was incredibly grateful for), undressing and bathing in water were not activities with which the Night Fury was familiar, so it was likely that Toothless was also curious. Hiccup felt bad for the dragon, but he was going to find a way to make it up to him later.

“I won’t be long!” He shouted as his friend left.

Once he was sure he was alone, Hiccup stripped completely, and trod with hesitant steps into the water, resisting the urge to shiver. When he was waist-deep into the lake, he decided to plunge with the rest of his body, so as not to extend his suffering. He yelped from the cold before diving in completely, holding what air was left inside his lungs. With his hands, he vigorously scrubbed his hair underwater, hoping to wash away most of the dirt and grime.

Once out of breath, Hiccup emerged. He had almost gotten used to the chill, and he was beginning to enjoy his bath, when, as he reopened his eyes, he found himself face to face with a black, reptilian muzzle.

A shriek escaped his mouth. He launched himself backwards, into slightly deeper waters, trying to hide what he could with both hands.

“Toothless! What-?! Go away!” Hiccup shouted, praying the water provided at least his lower half with enough cover.

He quickly realized his cold-induced yelp had reached the Night Fury’s sensitive ears, and the dragon had rushed back, thinking it a call for help.

“I’m fine. Go away.”

Toothless warbled, scanning Hiccup’s naked figure with obvious concern.

“Oh come on.” Hiccup lifted only one arm to wave his friend away as he yelled: “Shoo! Shoo!”

When Toothless felt reassured about his rider’s health, he slouched his way back into the forest, without even trying to hide the expression of inexplicable rejection from his face.

Worrying about the amount of pampering this was going to cost him, Hiccup resumed his activity, using a piece of rough cloth to rub his skin with some of the soap he had incidentally found in his belongings. Inside a hidden pocket within Gobber’s leather mustache-care kit, Hiccup had discovered a few shards of strong soap, of the kind Vikings used both to clean, but also to lighten their hair, for that soap, if used often enough, had a valuable bleaching effect. It was by no means a secret that Gobber, like many other villagers, enjoyed his mustache braids brightly blonde.

As Hiccup scrubbed himself, he could not avoid noticing a few, timid, yet encouraging changes; truth was, Hiccup would regularly examine his body during Laugardagr, praying for those very changes. He felt an unnecessary amount of surprise, and perhaps pride, when he thought he could see a few new, incredibly faint, but still somewhat noticeable strands of pale-auburn armpit hair. Perhaps he could have one day become a Hairy Hooligan worthy of the name, he thought, if only he had managed to stay on Berk a little longer.

A few more hairs here and there, however, were no great consolation before his much too evident gauntness. In fact, he looked thinner and bonier than ever.

Is this why Toothless keeps barfing freshly caught fish on me as often as he can? He also wanted me to eat three whole rabbits the other day; he knows I can’t eat that much.

Hiccup sighed. He needed to take better care of himself. If Toothless’ behavior that morning had taught Hiccup anything, it was that he could no longer afford to neglect his own health. The dragon needed him to be strong. Saving the Night Fury from Berk’s bloodthirsty villagers had not put an end to Hiccup’s commitment towards his friend. In fact, it had only given this responsibility an even more central place in his life. He lived for Toothless’ sake now, a notion that he found to be a much nobler source of pride than any, though pleasing, still timid achievement in his slow physical growth.

Hiccup finished bathing, and dried his shivering limbs quickly with another piece of cloth. He then decided to cut his messy hair with Gobber’s scissors. He cut it slightly shorter than usual, so it would be more comfortable to fly, without hair getting in his eyes. Yet, Hiccup felt there was also another reason behind that decision, the heart of which eluded him. He still went through with the slightly different look, almost on a whim.

Once he was done, and not one moment later, Hiccup caught a faint ruffling noise coming from behind the treeline.

He sighed. At least he was wearing his clean smallclothes. Asking for further privacy would have likely been pointless now that he and the dragon were living together.

“Come out, Toothless. I know you are there.”

The Night Fury’s black head sprung from behind a bush, shooting small leaves in every direction. Then, the dragon happily trotted to where Hiccup was sitting, gathering his belongings. Toothless began sniffling Hiccup curiously, from his wet hair to his bare toes.

“Yeah, I smell better now, don’t I- ah! Tickles!” Hiccup giggled, feeling the dragon’s warm breath on his skin.

Toothless produced an unexpected growl at some unwelcome sight.

“What? Oh... that.” Hiccup found the scar that trailed his left side, just below the lowest rib bone. It was no more than the length of a finger, but it had been deep. “That’s from… when… I fell. In the stream,” he half-lied. He had actually been thrown by Snotlout and Tuffnut on the day of his tenth birthday.

The two boys had said it was meant to celebrate him, and they had added that they didn’t know the water would be so shallow. They had most likely been honest about the last part, and perhaps even the first, much to Hiccup’s bafflement. He could never understand what the other boys were actually thinking, and Hiccup was still somehow convinced that, for that single day, the two boys had truly decided to regard him as one of their own. It still hadn’t made the sharp rock in his side any less painful, nor the fact that the event had gone relatively unnoticed within the village any easier to swallow.

Stoick had been furious of course, but with whom, Hiccup was not sure. Hidden underneath a facade of proper worry, Hiccup could often perceive Stoick’s silent disapproval. Part of Hiccup had always suspected his father to resent him whenever he got hurt, even when it wasn’t his fault, or perhaps especially on those occasions. A man could get hurt by himself, but when another man was the offender, retaliation was a Viking’s prerogative and obligation, possibly of the kind involving fists. At least, that’s what Stoick seemed to want his son to learn: to be more like a Viking. Hiccup had tried, of course, but his fists had never yielded the desired effect.

And yet, as a contradiction to that very lesson, Stoick had preferred not to make a fuss about the accident that day. Maybe he had preferred to avoid upsetting his rather uncertain relationship with Snotlout’s father, Spitelout. Despite his strength and might, and with only few exceptions, diplomacy was always a priority in Stoick’s mind, which was one of the reasons Berk had almost entirely forgotten what a blood-feud was.

This was actually one of the things Hiccup admired about his father, so he hadn’t complained, but he had yet to understand why he was expected to act more like a Viking himself, when ‘un-Vikingness’ was clearly one of his father’s most effective tools as a chief. Hiccup was sure he was alone in seeing that contradiction.

So Hiccup felt no bitterness at the two boys’ lack of punishment. He still suspected that, somewhere deep inside, both Snotlout and Tuffnut had actually felt some remorse for hurting him so gravely, although, like proper Vikings, they had never shown even a glimpse of it.

They had still come to visit him afterwards, as he was recovering in his bed after being sewn closed by Gothi, and Snotlout had even asked whether he was going to need to take over as chief one day, because, as the burly boy had put it: ‘it would be a bit of a hassle’. He’d said it most likely in jest, Hiccup was sure, but that was still the closest thing to an apology he had ever gotten from his second cousin.

Funny how the worst scar I have is from their attempt to be friendly. Maybe that’s what being friendly means to real Vikings, Hiccup thought, as he often would, and once again found that notion tough to accept.

Of course, not a few weeks after the accident, his relationship with both boys had reverted to what it had always been. He was the ‘village hiccup’, after all. Hiccup had still decided to forgive them, wanting to believe that, for once, their intent had been a well-meaning one. It may not have mattered now that he was an outcast, but Hiccup didn’t want Toothless to feel otherwise about them, at least in regards to that scar.

“Don’t worry about it.” He said, before getting fully dressed, and heading back to the cave with Toothless, all the while thinking about their next destination. A safe place for him and Toothless. A place to call their own.

Their departure was going to wait a while, however. For now, Hiccup had to recover completely. Hence, he decided to spend that afternoon, and the next couple of afternoons too, snugly resting by his best friend’s side, occasionally taking to the skies, and thoroughly enjoying the precious sun of the first balmy days of May.

They broke their fast with fresh salmon, which Toothless had graciously caught (without swallowing it, as instructed), and which Hiccup was now cooking over a small fire. The dragon had already eaten his fill, and was now observing Hiccup’s activity with interest, his head laying on his crossed paws.

“You know, I’m going to have to learn how to hunt for myself at some point,” Hiccup said, before rotating the skewered slice of fish he was holding. “I can’t keep making you always provide for me.”

Toothless groaned in protest. He sounded offended.

“Why not? I’m really glad for your help, but I shouldn’t always rely on you for everything, at least not for food. You just need me to fly, but I’m using you for almost everything else. Food, travel, protection… even warmth. It’s not fair to you.”

Hiccup was determined to learn, sooner or later, how to take care of himself, partly for the dragon’s sake, but mostly because, as Astrid had painfully pointed out, he had actually been coddled all his life, at least in regards to the basics of survival.

Toothless was still unconvinced. He produced a series of high to low-pitched warbling noises, which Hiccup was slowly beginning to decipher as some form of disagreement. Hiccup had spent enough time with the dragon to be able to successfully discern (often aided by his friend’s vivid facial expressions) most of the sounds for affirmation and denial, direction, calls for attention or alarm, and more.

However, he sometimes could not believe that this was all there was to dragon communication, at least as far as Night Furies were concerned. After all, Toothless had clearly learnt to understand him word for word, so the potential for comprehension of complex languages was obviously there.

“At least, I need to learn how to hunt. I won’t change my mind about this,” Hiccup stated in his best tone of confidence, “even though I don’t think I completely understood what you just said,” he added. “Actually… about that. Remember when you woke me up the other day... during my fever?”

Toothless raised his head.

“Well, my fever was so high, that I actually thought I could hear you talk!” Hiccup chuckled.

The dragon raised his head further.

“It was kind of weird; must have been quite a high fever I had. It’s been a while since I had any visions during fevers. When I was little, I used to get quite a lot of those, you know? I would see weird things happen. This time I could almost hear a voice, asking me something, and I remember thinking it was you!” Hiccup smiled at the thought. “Then, I think I also saw…” his smile faded “...someone else.” He paused, and stared at the palm of his free hand with hopeless contemplation.

“Still, wouldn’t that be something... if you could talk.”

Hiccup’s mind drifted off to recall more of that night’s hallucinations, and, as if on cue, his head started to ache again, though this time there was no good reason for it. He tried to ignore the ache, and looked back at Toothless, who was now gaping disturbingly at him, his eyes wide, and the narrow reptilian pupils sharp as knives.

“Something wrong?” Hiccup grimaced, unsettled by the intense glare. “Tooth’? You are scaring me. Are you alright?”

Slowly, a faint, yet uncomfortable noise began buzzing all around him. Hiccup turned to look for the source of the disturbance. The strange sound stopped immediately, and the headache ebbed away too, as if it had never been there. Hiccup looked back at his friend, who had settled his chin on his paws again, and was now gazing at their fire with a dissatisfied air.

“What was that?”

Toothless looked at him sideways, then back to the fire, shrugging casually.

Am I still imagining things? Hiccup wondered, when the smell of burnt fish filled his nostrils.

“Thor’s flaming breeches!” Hiccup yelped, yanking away his slice of salmon from the fire. He studied the result. “Well... At least it’s not all burned. We’ll just say it’s well done,” he said, then began to take bites of his slightly charred fish right from the skewer.

Fortunately, his meal was not entirely ruined. Yet, while he was able to satisfy his stomach, Hiccup still felt like something was missing from his palate.

“Man... It’s barely been a week, and I already miss bread.” Hiccup confessed, his mouth watering again at the memory of Helga’s warm loaves.

He felt surprise at the fondness with which he recalled the huge woman, since, back on Berk, Hiccup had never particularly enjoyed her. Though kind in her actions, Helga had always been rough and unpleasant in her ways. Even her voice could sometimes boom louder than the chief’s. Hiccup had often woken up to the sound of her barging in their home, shrieking:

‘HICCUP, ya little muttonhead, COME GET YER DAMN BREAD!’

Stoick was usually already out at that hour, and Hiccup, if he hadn’t left for the forge himself, would end up having to climb down the stairs to sleepily thank the woman, who would otherwise keep on screaming.

‘Suffering scallops... Can’t you leave it on the table?!’ Hiccup would yell in response when he was too tired to get up. This had often been his morning throat-clearing exercise.

‘Get yer ass outta bed and do something useful FOR FREYA’S SAKE!’ She’d yell back, as per routine.

Why she’d always demand that he receive the bread personally, Hiccup could never understand, and sometimes he suspected his father of always leaving early just to avoid her insufferable presence. Nevertheless, Helga’s bread was by far the best on the island, so she was the one who had the honor to bake for the chief’s house.

“Maybe I can make some bread myself,” Hiccup said. “I need barley flour, and a pan... and maybe butter, and…” He bit his lower lip. Those were all goods he could exclusively find in a village.

Toothless stared at him, eyes widening with worry.

“I’ve got it!” Hiccup exclaimed, triumphant, raising the wooden skewer excitedly, like a warrior would a sword. “We find a deserted island close to a southern village where nobody knows about me. Then, we can fly there before sunrise, so we are sure we can’t be seen, and in the morning we can get the stuff we need. Well… I can get the stuff I need. You’ll have to stay hidden in the forest. And no making fires. We both remember what happened the last time.”

He looked at the dragon for approval.

“Oh, come on. Don’t give me that look. If nobody knows about me, there’s no reason to worry. We are south enough, the Northern Alliance doesn’t reach where we are going, so we won’t be meeting any Hairy Hooligans, or Meatheads, or Berserkers. And who’s going to notice a little hiccup occasionally visiting a shop or two? This could work! We just need to look for a good place.”

Hiccup’s thoughts began to drift towards the southern seas, about which he knew either very little, or nothing at all. He felt his heart skip a beat, and a grin form on his face.

“Actually, the weather is great, and we’ve just eaten.” Hiccup jumped to his feet. “You know what? We are leaving right now!”


They're not the first back to base, probably because they were near the opposite end of the island, so when Wei Ying peeks into the Winners' Room, he sees Huaisang first, tired and dishevelled in the Solo Omega box. It's a transparent box so that they can still see and hear everything going on, air conditioned and air filtered, but it is nevertheless a box because all the Solo Omega winners are still in heat.

Wei Ying grins, and raises a fist bump at him.

Past him are the Couple Winners, and he takes a moment to parse what he's seeing: Nie Mingjue with Mo Xuanyu. Huh. Well, that's unexpected. Xuanyu doesn't look particularly terrified or traumatised though, and even raises a hand to wave at him. Wei Ying's grin grows wider. Good for him.

He limps into the room – the endorphins of the second knotting are starting to wear off now, and Wei Ying's body really is starting to protest the amount of abuse he's put it through in the last week – and he sees it, the moment Huaisang's eyes widen as Wei Ying walks past the Box.

It's like a domino effect, the surprise jumping from Huaisang to Xuanyu. It takes Xuanyu a moment longer, but he can smell Wei Ying from where he is – he can smell that Wei Ying's heat has broken.

"Hey," he says, dazed, as Wei Ying walks past to join him on the next little marked podium in the Couple Winners section. Even Nie Mingue's eyebrows are raised.

Lan Zhan has a sense of dramatic timing that Wei Ying wouldn't have expected from him, as he chooses that moment to sweep in behind Wei Ying, following him up to stand on the step behind his. His hand is light, but he rests the breadth of his palm across the back of Wei Ying's neck, his fingers curled around the side in the most possessive gesture Wei Ying has seen from him yet. His stomach swoops: it feels right.

"Mingjue-ge," says Lan Zhan, inclining his head. "Xuanyu. Congratulations."

"You too, I gather." Crow's feet of laughter gather at Mingjue's eyes. Yeah, Xuanyu's going to be okay.

"Thank you. Do you happen to know what happened to my brother?"

A grimace passes over Mingjue's face, long enough that Wei Ying starts to feel a stab of alarm, before he speaks. "He won, I think. Unless something happened in the last few hours."

Lan Zhan waits, but whatever it is that has Mingjue unhappy, he's obviously not going to say anything about. That's fair, they're still being filmed. Wei Ying has learnt that while he's not one to mince his words, he's not tactless. Well, he's sure he'll find out later, when he watches the highlights of everyone else's stream.

The time for the next winners to arrive stretches, the long wait time presumably meaning that whoever has arrived has been unceremoniously dumped in the Losers Lounge. (Despite the terrible name, it actually looks way more comfortable than the Winners Room because they get to just collapse in a heap on a giant sofa and cry their commiserations and get actual medical attention.)

Lan Xichen is the next to arrive, which immediately answers Lan Zhan's question. The omega he has in tow is Meng Yao, and when Wei Ying slides his eyes over to Mingjue, he has a badly concealed scowl. Huh, so something definitely happened there then. It doesn't stop Lan Xichen from clapping him on the arm as he walks past, or Nie Mingjue clasping his hand in return.

He gets to see Lan Xichen walk past Mingjue and Xuanyu to see Wei Ying. There's a little 'oh?' of mild surprise to see Wei Ying there, and then a wider 'oh!' moment when he realises it's Lan Zhan stood behind him.

"Congratulations," says Wei Ying as neutrally pleasant as he can because he should probably start off on the right foot for a potential in-law, and leans just a little into Lan Zhan's side. Lan Zhan sways back towards him, like they're a set of matching magnets.

"Thank you," says Lan Xichen, still visibly surprised. It's like Lan Zhan inherited all of the family's poker face capabilities and Lan Xichen not at all. "And you. If, that is, congratulations are the right sentiment?"

"Thanks," says Wei Ying, with a grin. He's enjoying the prolonged sensation of seeing everyone's reactions at him pairing up at long last.

At the same time, Lan Zhan says, "Sales of the Qiankun Bag™ are up by 42% since the beginning of the finale."

There's a moment of silence, and then Lan Xichen says, with poorly concealed amusement, "That's great. Well done, Wangji."

And then he carries on so that he and Meng Yao are standing on their own little podium. Wei Ying turns to Lan Zhan and stares at the side of his face. It's a pretty great profile to stare at. "Lan Zhan," he says eventually, as quietly as he can manage. There are only regular cameras here and no drones, and they're not micced up yet. "Do you actually have a killer sense of humour? I thought – maybe last time had been a fluke."

"My brother thinks I'm very funny," says Lan Zhan, which delightfully tells Wei Ying nothing at all.

Ω

It's distressing how little time they get to spend together after they're all coupled up. After the Winners segment has been filmed of them all trooping off the helicopter and into the room, the producer says, "Cut!" and the room dissolves back into a seamless production of a TV show again. It's jarring, after essentially live streaming for a couple of weeks, to go back to staged shots and camera angles and "Can you do that again, with more emotion?" requests.

They get ushered off the set by a veritable army of crew members – checked over by medical staff, given a whole bunch of antibiotics and jabs for any nasty infections they might have all picked up having outdoor sex and being bled on by other people for two weeks, and then bundled a set of clothes and shown into the shower.

After the shower, Wei Ying looks around for Lan Zhan, who is presumably nearby doing much of the same thing, but another crew member directs him into a small interview room instead.

He'd done this as a solo winner and hadn't minded at all, but hadn't considered how terribly annoying it would be to be immediately separated and herded along as part of a couple.

"Wei Wuxian! Congratulations, a winner for the fourth season in a row!" The interviewer is new – they tend to be new for this segment, some actual celebrity host with presumably a busy schedule who can only fly in to do the glamorous bits. Wei Wuxian recognises her from daytime TV.

"Fourth and probably last," says Wei Ying demurely. Or, a vague attempt at demureness anyway. The point is that people can tell it's fake. He bats his eyelashes at the camera.

"Such a plot twist!" says Sisi, playing into it. "I can see that's a real bite as well, so not just a knot, eh?"

"Well I think if you're going to do it, you might as well go all the way! And there's no one I would have done it with apart from Lan Wangji."

"I think you've moved past the point of calling him by his stage name, haven't you?" She's good. Pointed questions that get to the topics that people are likely discussing on the internet, getting material to fuel the conversation.

"Yes, but that's just for his ears only." Wei Ying winks, like 3 million or however many people watching live haven't already seen him calling him Lan Zhan.

In retrospect, it's good that they got separated this early. It's always a bit of a whiplash for Wei Ying to slide into his media personality. He's good at it, charming and effusive and a little bit flirty, but it's not really what he's like with Lan Zhan, he realises.

They go for a bit longer, long enough that sitting on the high stool is starting to get painful for someone whose ass got blown out earlier that day. He hides it well, he thinks, but he's still grateful when she leans in and says, "Now, the final question. You know what it's going to be. You've never been in this position before, so think carefully."

Wei Ying nods. He does know what it's going to be. As a solo winner, he takes home the full prize money for each of the winners. As part of a couple, they get a choice.

"The prize money. Are you going to Steal It or Share It? If both of you choose to share it, all's good in love and war, you each get half of the amount. If only one of you chooses to steal it, that person gets the full amount and the other person gets nothing. If, however, both of you choose to steal it, then neither of you get anything at all. Nilch. Nada. A big fat zero. What's your choice going to be?"

In the entire history of the show, none of the couple winners have stolen the money. The bad press alone would have tanked whatever sponsorships, engagements, et cetera, et cetera, the extra half of the money would have cancelled out. Everyone has, at least on camera, pretended to actually like the person they knotted with, even if it didn't last afterwards.

Wei Ying tries to look like he's thinking. (When he's actually thinking, he mostly looks like he's sleeping, so he tries not to do that on camera.) He waits. The show doesn't even have to build in a suspenseful pause, he's doing it himself.

And then he says, enunciating very clearly, "I'm stealing."

She clutches her chest like she's been shot and gasps, a long drawn-out affair that lasts a full three seconds longer than it should. Wei Ying appreciates her sense of drama; it really matches his own. "No!"

"Yep," he confirms, popping the 'p'. "I'm taking it all."

Sisi leans forward and looks at him over her little horn-rimmed glasses. "That's a lot of confidence, Wei Wuxian. What if your dear Lan Wangji also chose to steal it?"

Wei Ying shakes his head. "He wouldn't. He's way too nice for that."

"And you don't feel bad about taking his half then?"

"He is rich. He doesn't need it. I, on the other hand, just became forcibly disengaged from my Career Omega career path. I'm gonna need all the funds I can get," he tosses his head with a sniff.

"All right then. For the first time in Hot or Knot history! We! Have! A! Steal!" She flings her hands into the air and a bunch of poppers go off, spraying them in glittery bits of confetti. Wei Ying jumps, laughing as he's caught off guard.

"Have the production crew had these lying around for ten years, waiting for someone to finally steal?" He asks, fishing confetti out of his hair; he hadn't even noticed the little fuckers.

"Almost definitely," she informs him, and pops one last one into his face. "Now, let's see what happened with your partner."

They cut there, which feels almost anti-climactic. "I have to go do this interview with Lan Wangji now. I am so excited," she informs him as she hops off her stool. The crew indicates that Wei Ying needs to wait in here while that happens, since she'll be coming back to film his reaction afterwards.

"Don't forget to act surprised," she says.

"I won't," promises Wei Ying.

She laughs off camera as she wiggles her fingers in a farewell. "You're very good at this, Wei Wuxian. I hope we get to work together again."

At least Wei Ying doesn't have to sit on the stool if he's just waiting for Sisi to come back. Hopefully, Lan Zhan's interview will be quick, since he's the concise type. He slides down the wall to sit down opposite the cameraman, and stretches his legs out with a sigh.

"You really stealing, man?" The guy – Ouyang Zizhen, if Wei Ying remembers correctly; he'd been an intern last year and it looks like he impressed enough to land it as a full-time gig – asks curiously, unwrapping a cereal bar of some sort. Wei Ying is forcibly reminded that he hasn't eaten in a hot while.

"Yeah, I mean, the real answer is that it doesn't matter, right? Not if you plan on staying together. If one of you steals and you're a real couple, the money is kind of both of yours anyway." Wei Ying drops the media persona. "You don't happen to have another cereal bar, do you?"

Zizhen fishes one out from his pocket. "Yeah, it's been in my jeans for like ten hours though, if you don't mind?"

"That's what he said," murmurs Wei Ying absently, peeling it apart and devouring it in two bites. Zizhen snickers. "Thanks. Come hit me up when your contract for this season's up if you don't have another gig lined up. I feel bad for stealing your food when I'm literally about to win a huge amount of money."

"You got a job going?" asks Zizhen sceptically. "Didn't you just say that you're now unemployed?"

"I'm marrying rich, I'm sure there's something," says Wei Ying with a shrug. "Again, also why the prize money doesn't really matter. Plus, I'm an influencer, I always need video staff."

"Must be nice," says Zizhen wistfully. "But yeah, thanks."

The interviewer arrives back at that point – which, wow, was brief even by Lan Zhan's standards – and Wei Ying pushes himself back up the wall. His ass is throbbing even looking too hard at the barstool thing.

"Not to like, TMI," says Wei Ying, which is a ridiculous thing to say given he has all of his clothes on right now, "but can I get a cushion or something? My ass is battered."

Someone on crew bustles around to find him something – eventually one of the sofa throws folded up into a little square pad that Wei Ying can perch on – as Zizhen busies himself doing nothing with the camera to hide his laughter.

There's a screen set up just under the camera that they swivel to look at, with the footage just captured from Lan Zhan's interview. They run through much of the same line of questioning that Wei Ying did, and Wei Ying watches him with interest.

He'd seen Lan Zhan's opening interview before the show started – he'd watched all of them for research purposes – and he remembers Lan Zhan being professional and articulate, but largely devoid of personality. It's always interesting to go back and see how his opinions of people change once he's met them in person, how he can spot little tics or habits they do in front of the camera and be able to interpret them differently with context.

But Lan Zhan is much the same as his opening interview; like how Wei Ying has a media personality that's him, but a little more of him, it appears Lan Zhan's media personality is him but a little less of him: professional, eloquent, thoughtful. And concise. Terribly, terribly concise.

Wei Ying sees the company CEO in that persona; he hadn't, quite, been able to imagine Lan Zhan running a company before.

He's been distracted, he thinks, by the musing over Lan Zhan's media persona – he lost the answer to a number of questions. But the important bit is coming up. Zizhen moves his body camera for a better angle of Wei Ying's face.

On screen:

"…If, however, both of you choose to steal it, then neither of you get anything at all. Nilch. Nada. A big fat zero. What's your choice going to be?"

"Share." Lan Zhan answers immediately, no sense of suspense at all.

"...Okay. Share it is. Are you worried that Wei Wuxian will steal it from you? I spoke to him just now."

"Then whether I worry about it or not matters little," says Lan Zhan. Infuriatingly true. "But no, I am not worried."

"Let's take a look at what he did." And then it fades away to a complicated looping Russian doll situation where Lan Zhan is watching a recording of Wei Ying's interview while Wei Ying's watching a recording of Lan Zhan watching a recording of Wei Ying's interview.

They get to the moment where Wei Ying can hear his own voice, tinny and faint over the speakers. "Steal!" Wei Ying watches Lan Zhan for a reaction, and grins to himself when there isn't one.

They pause the video. "You just said that you weren't worried," says the interviewer, fake concern heavy in her voice. "But it looks like you had cause to be."

"I am not worried," repeats Lan Zhan. "Wei Ying deserves the money."

"He – deserves it?"

"Yes. There should be a third option. Share, steal, and... surrender, perhaps, if you would like to continue the alliteration."

Wei Ying sits back smugly.

"Surrender!" squeals Sisi delightedly at this turn of events, before remembering that she's in front of the wrong half of the couple to give her an appropriate response to that. "How chivalrous of you. I'll feed that back to the producers, although I have to admit that it's not likely to be a popular choice!"

They pause the video there.

"Now, you don't look surprised at all," says Sisi, wagging her finger at Wei Ying.

He spreads his hands in a modest shrug. "We didn't discuss this segment specifically, but I already knew that Lan Wangji was never here for the money." (He was never here for the heat mating either, but Wei Ying glosses over that part.)

"Besides, I'd say he's won the best prize of all, right?"

Wei Ying loves this interviewer, because she sets him right up for it, with her eyes wide and hand ready to fly to her mouth. "Oh? And what's that?"

"Me, of course."

They cut the interview there.

Ω

WEEK 0.5, THE NEXT YEAR

"Hello everyone, and welcome to Hot or Knot: Behind the Sheets. I'm your host, Wei Wuxian, thanks for joining me tonight. I've got with me a winner from last year's season of Hot or Knot, Nie Huaisang, who's going to give us a bit of a preview as to what to expect in the upcoming few weeks. Huaisang, nice to see you again."

Wei Ying moves the mic from his face to Huaisang's, and grins at his friend. Wei Wuxian has done a few sponsored events, started his own streaming projects since last year, but it's his first time acting as a celebrity host of anything. He's wearing a replica of his robes from last year, the red and the black ones he was wearing when he got knotted by Lan Zhan, just to visually remind viewers who he is if they've forgotten.

Huaisang looks good as well, his hair grown out a little longer this year and wearing a tracksuit that somehow looks terribly luxurious as well as comfortable. They're items from his own clothing line, launched this past year off the back of his Hot or Knot win with the tagline: 'Fashion you could die in'. Well, Wei Wuxian found it funny, anyway.

They've kept in touch, he and Huaisang, and Mo Xuanyu as well, so it's a little odd greeting Huaisang like he's a long-lost friend rather than someone he sees every other week or so when he's not travelling, but the director asked them to reveal snippets of their familiarity slowly, to get the audience hooked.

"You too, Wei-ge. It's odd to see you on that side of the table."

It is odd, being on this side of the chair, and they both know it. Everything feels a little bit different from this angle, and it's taking him a moment to adjust to the idea that the cameras are behind him and he's not meant to turn to face them. The whole interviewer gig is weird, actually. He's been given prompts and questions that he has to get through, but he's also been told to feel free to ad-lib and try and get interesting reactions out of the contestants (which is probably what Wei Ying is better at than reading off cue cards).

"Isn't it just! But I'm glad the show asked me to come back to host some of the interview segments, it's always nice to catch up with old friends. How are you feeling about this upcoming season?"

"It's good. I'm ready to see what challenges the show comes up with this time. It feels like the staff always come up with something new."

"Yeah, the fake pregnancy sure was an escalation from the fake baby. Which of the new contestants do you think would be a good partner for that challenge this year?"

"I'm not going to give it away. I've done my research though, and I've got two or three people in mind. But it would be a coupling for the challenge only, I think."

They've already talked about this, outside of the interview room; one of the first things they discussed when Huaisang mentioned joining the show again.

"Oh? You're not looking for a long-term partner."

Huaisang looks from Wei Wuxian, into the camera. "Oh, not at all. I hear this show needs a new Career Omega, after all."

Ω

"Wei Ying!" The call from the living room is faint, which actually means that it was really loud.

"Coming!" Wei Ying darts from the third floor down the stairs, skidding across the polished hardwood floors hard enough that his slippers make the most atrocious squealing sound, and half rolls and half falls over the arm of the sofa, into Lan Zhan's lap. He grins up at Lan Zhan. "Hello."

"Hello," says Lan Zhan bemusedly, looking down at him.

Wei Ying rights himself, just as the opening shot finishes and the voiceover begins.

"Tonight, on Hot or Knot. We meet our omega contestants for the first time, and get to know their dreams and desires. Some, returning faces. Some, fresh faced and unaware of the challenges that lie ahead."

"What's this, Lan Zhan? Reality TV? I didn't think you were the type," says Wei Ying as he turns the volume up.

"I rarely indulge," says Lan Zhan in that ever-dry tone of his that Wei Ying has grown to love and appreciate. "But I found out that my favourite celebrity was making a guest appearance."

"Pah," says Wei Ying, arranging Lan Zhan's arm around his back the way he likes it. "Who cares about some celebrity when you've got a nice omega at home?"

"There is also an important business matter," adds Lan Zhan. Wei Ying frowns. He hasn't heard about this bit. He doesn't get involved in the everyday of Lan Zhan's job, but generally Lan Zhan tells him things that are classified under 'important business matters'. "I would like Huaisang to get through to the finale, and send him a prototype of the Qiankun Bag™ 2.0 to use, so we will need to vote for him. You are allowed to vote for one contestant every 24 hours."

"Ah, Lan Zhan. I didn't think you were one for audience participation," Wei Ying laughs. Even after a year, he's often caught out by Lan Zhan's knack for understatement.

Lan Zhan presses a smattering of kisses to Wei Ying's temple, and Wei Ying settles down as the narration begins. Even though it's been a year since he was last on the show, seeing it move on without him feels like a new chapter in his life. A new, exciting chapter.

"Tonight, on Hot or Knot..."