april
2nd Level Red Feather
- Joined
- Dec 16, 2006
- Messages
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Nick
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Jacob
The dream begins in silence.
You're standing barefoot in a hallway that doesnt exist in waking life; long, endless, and pulsing with red light. The walls breathe softly, like something alive, the shadows whispering your name over and over again. Theres velvet beneath your feet, warm and lush, like spilled wine. Everything smells like fire and cinnamon and something faintly electric...like ozone before a storm.
Ahead of you is a red door.
It glows faintly, veins of gold shimmering across the surface like cracks in something divine.
It hums with power, ancient and seductive. And just beside it, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and grinning like lucifer himself...is Nick.
His eyes are glacial, blinding blue and glowing with mischief. His jet black hair is slicked back, but one rebellious strand has fallen across his brow. He wears that signature white shirt with the cigarette pack rolled in the sleeve, tight black jeans hugging every carved angle of his body like sin incarnate. He is your temptation made flesh.
He doesnt speak. He doesnt have to.
Instead, your dream flickers; flashes of memory, or maybe the future bleed into your mind like lightning.
You see him holding you by the throat, kissing you so deeply it feels like drowning. Then you're in his lap, laughing breathlessly as he tickles you under the ribs, his hands quick and wicked, his smile sharper than knives. Hes whispering something in your ear that you cant quite hear, only feel, like softness dragged over raw nerve.
"You're mine." He mouths. "You were always mine."
You try to resist. You do. But your body is no longer yours.
Your feet move of their own accord. Sleepwalking, dreaming, yearning. You drift through the pulsing hallway, closer, closer to him, your fingertips grazing the door that should never be opened. The realm that should never be visited. Your breath hitches. The metal knob is cold, but your fingers close around it, slow and dream-dazed.
His hand covers yours.
So warm.
So cruel.
So right.
He leans in, brushing his mouth over your ear.
"Open it, little star," he whispers. "Let me out. Let me in."
You shiver, trembling, caught between want and terror.
But then...
Hands.
Strong.
Familiar. Desperate.
You're yanked backwards.
"April!"
Jacob.
You collapse into him, blinking, gasping. You're not in the hallway anymore, you're in the real world standing before the red door in the sanctum of Merrits realm, your bare hand still outstretched toward the knob. Jacob's chest is rising and falling hard as he pulls you away, holding you tightly to him like you might disappear.
Hes not angry. But hes so, so scared.
"Sweetheart...no," he murmurs, voice shaking as he rests his forehead against yours. "You were sleepwalking. I know you didn't mean to. But still..."
His arms stay locked around you, anchoring you. His fingers shake slightly at your waist. He looks at you like hes trying to hold back tears.
"I almost lost you right now," he whispers. "He almost got you."
Your lip trembled.
"I didn't know," you breathe. "I didn't mean..."
"I know." His voice is soft and firm. "I know, love. But that door was sealed for a reason. Merrit and Sylus...they bound him for a reason."
He pulls you in closer, lips brushing your temple. You can feel his heart hammering beneath his chest.
"And if they found out what almost happened...if they saw you reaching for that handle..." He trails off, swallowing hard. "They wouldn't let you off easy. And they'd punish me too, for letting you wander, for not protecting you."
You reach for him. "Jacob..."
His eyes close.
"I dont want to. God's, I dont want to."
You already know what's coming. You feel it in the weight of his silence.
"But you have to." You whisper.
He nods slowly, his mouth twisting into an unreadable line.
"I have to. Because if I dont...they will. And if Sylus and Merrit found out you nearly freed Nick...if they punish you together," his breath catches. "You wouldn't walk for a week. You might not laugh again for a month. They'd make sure of it."
You shiver, imagining it. The two darkest forces you know, uniting in fury.
Jacob sees your fear and cups your face gently in his hands, brushing his thumbs across your cheeks.
"Let me do it instead," he says softly. "Let me be the one. Ill be gentle...if I can be. But I won't hold back. Not completely. I can't."
You nod slowly.
"I trust you."
His expression shatters at that, so full of love and guilt it nearly breaks you. He kisses your forehead gently.
"Then come with me, little one," he whispers. "We're going somewhere quiet. Somewhere safe. And you'll take your punishment...not because I want to give it," he brushes a lock of hair behind your ear. "...but because you need to remember what that door really means."
His voice drops lower, breath hot against your ear.
"And what I'll do to stop you from opening it."
Your vision shimmers as Jacob lifts you effortlessly into his arms. His body is warm, solid, protective. Everything about him screams safety, yet you feel the tremor beneath the surface. The silent war inside him.
The world shifts.
The hallway with the red door dissolves, replaced by golden light and the song of leaves. You're in Jacob's realm now, his private sanctuary. The forest he created from his hearts longing.
The air smells like honeysuckle, clover and sunlight. Its beautiful, serene. Hopeful.
But Jacob's face is solemn.
He walks to the center of the glen, beneath the arch of a weeping willow whose silver-green tendrils sway like a curtain in the breeze. He sits on a low stone beneath it and draws you over his lap gently, positioning you facedown across his knees, your hips elevated, your body laid out like an offering.
Its then that you feel his form shifting, slightly, his Guardian nature beginning to rise. Not fully. Not the fierce protector youve seen before. But enough that his power hums just beneath the surface. His muscles are firm beneath you, and warmth radiates like the sun.
His beauty is breathtaking.
His light brown hair glows gold in the sun, tousled just enough to look boyish but framed with the grace of a prince. His eyes, soft hazel flecked with moss and honey, are deep and heavy with sorrow.
"This is going to sting, love." He says softly, brushing your hair back from your face. "But ill be here with you through every second."
The first smack lands sharp and clean on your bottom, the sound echoing like a clap through the trees. Your body jerks, a cry catching in your throat.
His hand caresses the sting instantly, rubbing slow circles over the heat. His palm is large and warm, fingers long, the heel of his hand firm.
"Im not mad," he whispers, and your heart aches at the kindness on his voice.
The second smack lands just beneath the first, deeper. More intense. You twitch in his lap, gasping.
"You're doing so well," he murmurs, his hand stroking over the ache. "So brave, love."
The third bites harder, and you yelp, your legs kicking gently.
"This part is almost over." He sooths, his voice balm.
And so it's goes. Ten in total.
Ten sharp, stinging smacks that build into a hot, blooming soreness. His hand is gentle after each, caressing, comforting. But the spanks themselves are deliberate. Not cruel. Not angry. But filled with purpose. By the sixth, you're wriggling in his lap, your thighs trembling, whimpering against your arm. By the eighth, tears well in your eyes. By the tenth, you're breathless and glassy-eyed, clutching his leg with shakey fingers.
He pulls you up into his arms without hesitation. His embrace is everything...strong, secure, sheltering.
"Im so proud of you," he whispers. "So proud."
You relax into him, eyes fluttering closed for a moment, until he speaks again, his voice heavier now.
"Im sorry love...but this next part will be difficult for you." His brows furrowed. "I have to. If I dont...Merrit and Sylus will do it together. And they'll take you from me. They'll torment you in ways I won't. I wont let them."
His lips graze your ear. "So I'm not stopping, not once it starts."
You freeze slightly in his arms. His voice has changed, no longer gentle. Its serious. Final.
He lays you down on the mossy ground, the petals beneath you are soft and cool. And from the forest floor, it rises...his power.
Vines of ivy, glistening with dew and shimmering with faint golden runes, curl up from the moss floor and wrap delicately around your wrists. They gently tug your arms above your head, binding them to one of the Willows long, arched roots that curls behind you like a cradle.
And it begins.
Jacob's fingers trace along your ribs. Feather-light.
You giggle. Its instinct. The kind that bubbles up unbidden. It feels sweet at first. Harmless.
His hands moved again, lower now, over your hips, teasing circles along the crease of your thighs.
"Jacob!" You gasp, half laughing, half pleading.
He doesnt answer.
His eyes are locked on you, focused, not cruel, but distant in that determined way he gets when he knows something must be done.
His hands trail up under your blouse, to that soft, soft skin directly above your waistband. His fingertips flutter against the deliciously ticklish flesh.
You squeal.
He doesnt pause.
Your giggles rise into full laughter. Your body writhes against the ground and his strong fingers now dig in, just slightly now. Precise. Unrelenting.
Your laughter climbs.
Your cheeks flushed.
Your hands pull against the ivy restraints. Your legs kick out. He straddles your thighs lightly to contain the last remaining freedom your body has left. He tickles again, fingers fluttering over your belly and sides.
Its no longer playful.
Its punishment.
"J-Jacob!" You gasp, nearly breathless now. "Okay...okay, please!"
He doesnt stop. His face is serious, heartbroken even.
"Im sorry, little one," he says quietly. "But I warned you. I have to."
His fingers tease your ribs again, dancing up and down like instruments of torment. You're laughing, uncontrollable now, tears stinging at your eyes, as your body uselessly bucks beneath him.
It feels maddening. And still, he doesnt stop.
Hes not harsh. He never digs too deep. But its endless. Light, delicate. Relentless. And your body is shaking with laughter, pleasure, desperation, overstimulation all rolled into one.
He leans down, whispering near your ear.
"Ill never let them take you from me," he says, his fingers tracing dangerously close to your underarms. "Even if it means making you cry."
And you do.
The first tear slipping down your cheek as you beg him softly to stop.
Jacob's fingers skirt just beneath those delicate hollows. He keeps your legs pinned beneath his, bracing for your body to fight him...his fingers have entered delicate territory, and Jacob, of all of them, knows what that means.
Your laughter is wild. Already close to panic. He knows how sensitive your underarms are. How your body explodes with sensation there. How even a second or two of teasing leaves you gasping. And he doesnt just tickle, he plays with the nerves there, slow and methodical, using the very tips of his fingers in gentle, flickering strokes like whispers across your skin.
You're instantly in tears, head tossing side to side, laughter erupting uncontrollably from your lips.
"JA-JACOB! Please!" You scream, legs thrashing against the moss, hips bucking wildly under his thighs. "I...I cant! Ill go crazy, please! Not there! Not there! I'll be good! I promise! I promise!"
He doesnt stop. He doesn't even pause.
"Shh," he soothes. His tone is kind, but his hands are cruel.
His fingers are scribbling, fluttering, stroking in maddening patterns, each one crafted to undo you. The sensation is electric, unbearable and deliciously intimate. You're whole body writhes beneath him.
You can't twist away. The vines have your arms stretched taught above you, exposing your helplessness. And hes watching you closely. You can feel the warmth of his breath as he leans over you, observing your face twist and contort with laughter and desperation.
"PLEASE!" You sob between gasps. "I swear I won't go near it again! Ill never go to the red door, ever! I promise Jacob! Please stop!"
His voice is soft, heartbreakingly calm.
"Begging won't help, love," he says too softly. "I'm not stopping. You need to learn."
He locked into his task, still tormenting under your arms, not letting up for a single seconds relief. His fingers feather in slow, precise circles, dragging a scream of laughter from you that ends in a high, breathless wheeze. You're twitching, helpless, tears running down your temples, into your hairline.
"You need to learn how loved you are." He continues. "And how dangerous that thing behind the door is."
You cant anwser, already desperately trying to catch your breath. All you can do is shake beneath him, your mouth open in helpless gasps as the sensations consume you.
"You're mine," Jacob whispers. "I won't lose you to him. I wont let Merrit and Sylus lose you either. If I have to teach your body to remember this lesson...so be it."
He drags a fingertip slowly, delicately, down the very center of your right underarm, and you squeal, your laughter twisting into something raw and pleading.
"Pleasepleaseplease!" You try to cry out, but the sound breaks into hiccuping giggles and a sob.
But still..he doesn't stop.
He tickles you with reverance. Each brush of his fingers is measured, intentional, devastating. He knows your body, knows how your skin shivers under light touches, how laughter gives away to gasping when your mind begins to slip from overstimulation.
He holds you down gently but immovable. He soothes you softly but firm.
"Just a little longer, my love," he whispers. "Just until I'm sure you'll never forget."
His fingers dance, this time with a cruel twist; one underarm stroked in slow, gentle spirals, while the other is scribbled on more roughly, unpredictably. The mismatch drives you wild.
"Jacob, please!" You beg again out of sheer desperation. "It...it tickles! I can't! Im gonna...!"
He shifts slightly, lowering his face beside yours. His breath is hot on your ear.
"I know, sweetheart." He whispers, his voice stuttering and raw at the edges ."That's why it works."
Hes not done. You haven't given him the surrender he needs to stop...and the weight of it is crushing him.
Jacob moves off you soundlessly and sits back on his heels, the forest is glowing softly behind him. The air feels suddenly charged with power, an overwhelming amount of it. And thats when it happens.
That moment when he completely let's go of the soft boy you love...and fully becomes the Guardian.
A surge of light rolls over him like a tide, shimmering through his golden skin. His hair ruffles as though caught in a breeze that doesn't exist. His eyes shift, still hazel, but now alight with molten amber. That power in the air, he is now glowing with it. His shoulders broaden, his form straightens and his presence expands until hes radiant. Pure.
A celestial force of nature not contained by gentleness, neither cruelty, not constrained by weakness or mercy. He simply functions as the right hand of protection by most means possible.
You're his entire world, the reason he exits to be, and now, the only thing he sees.
You can barely move as he turns his gaze to you. It pins you. If you weren't already restrained, you'd possess zero will to run from him. Hes already knelt beside your feet and he makes no effort to change his position.
You know what's coming.
"I'm sorry I have to be this way to you," he said, voice deep, deeper than you'd ever heard it before. "But I'll never hurt you. Ill never let anyone hurt you. Ill protect you always, even if that means protecting you from yourself."
The words break you.
Because you believe him.
Because you know this is the only way he can do this. He had to become something stronger, something unshakable. His Guardian form let's him do what his gentle soul couldn't bear on its own.
And he begins again.
He lifts one of your feet delicately in both hands, cupping your ankle as if it were a sacred object, and brings it into his lap. You could see the restraint he was enduring for you, in order to be soft and gentle. Magic shimmers on his fingertips, a soft halo of silver light emanating from each one, a spell to heighten; mercy wrapped in torment to ensure that the punishment would end quickly.
He begins with a single finger tracing down the center of your arch, from heel to ball...a whispers breath of lightness. You shriek instantly, toes flexing, ankle dragging back instinctively, but he holds you there effortlessly by magic.
He doesn't speak. He only watches.
He traces the line again. Then again. A third time.
Each stroke is softer, slower, more devastating.
Your laughter rings out in desperate, screaming bursts, ripped from you by each drag of his fingertip.
When he sees your toes curl, he gently uncurls them with his hand, holding them back with firm, supernatural ease. His left hand holds your toes back, spreading your sole long and taut, while his right hand begins to scritch. Not randomly. He targets your most sensitive zones; the very center of your arch, the tender base of your toes, that maddening spot just under the ball where nerves scream.
Your laughter is raw again.
"NONONONONO, JACOB PLEASE!" You hollar. "It tickles too much! Ill do anything! Ill be a good girl! Ill never even think about that door again...just please! I promise, please!"
He shifts to your toes, stroking between them, teasing each gap. He even let's one finger circle the base of your pinky toe until you're squealing like a child.
Still he says nothing.
Because now, the punishment is the lesson. You wriggle and twist, but your foot is trapped, his fingers dancing devilishly, calmly, endlessly.
You can barely breathe when he switches feet, placing the first one down so tenderly, kissing the arch once like an apology before switching to the other.
He looks up at you, expression soft but unreadable. Then begins again.
This time, his fingers zigzag across the entire sole in chaotic, little patterns, unpredictable and teasing. You could see the pattern being drawn in little silvery trails the magic left faintly in its wake. He'll pause a moment to stroke the top of your foot, then strike again at the arch, making you fall apart with laughter.
Hes thorough. Patient. Merciless in his devotion. He holds your ankle like its precious even while he tickles you beyond your limit.
You're blushing, sweating, howling so hard, your lungs ache. Your voice breaks completely. Screams become stuck in your throat as all your body can do anymore is gasp for breath. Your body goes slack...and it all finally stops. Your body lies limp in the moss, trembling and flushed from torment. Moisture clings to your skin in a light sheen. Jacob watches you closely as your chest stops struggling to rise and fall with the effort to catch your breath. He releases your bindings from your wrists. They dissolve into petals , falling weightless to the ground.
He lifts you, one arm under your thigh, the other cradling your back, pulling you into the warmth of his chest. His body, still radiating light and strength, wraps around you like a blanket.
His voice is calm, sweet, melting against your neck like honey dripping off the tongue.
"I'll never let you forget this, love," He murmurs. "Because I'd rather have you crying in my arms...than for you to dissappear behind that door."
He carries you silently away as the light in the glen begins to fade, staining the trees with amber and rose. He will stay in this form as long as he needs, protecting you with or without mercy. Loving you with or without gentleness, until the storm passes...until you're completely safe.
Nick
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Jacob
The dream begins in silence.
You're standing barefoot in a hallway that doesnt exist in waking life; long, endless, and pulsing with red light. The walls breathe softly, like something alive, the shadows whispering your name over and over again. Theres velvet beneath your feet, warm and lush, like spilled wine. Everything smells like fire and cinnamon and something faintly electric...like ozone before a storm.
Ahead of you is a red door.
It glows faintly, veins of gold shimmering across the surface like cracks in something divine.
It hums with power, ancient and seductive. And just beside it, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and grinning like lucifer himself...is Nick.
His eyes are glacial, blinding blue and glowing with mischief. His jet black hair is slicked back, but one rebellious strand has fallen across his brow. He wears that signature white shirt with the cigarette pack rolled in the sleeve, tight black jeans hugging every carved angle of his body like sin incarnate. He is your temptation made flesh.
He doesnt speak. He doesnt have to.
Instead, your dream flickers; flashes of memory, or maybe the future bleed into your mind like lightning.
You see him holding you by the throat, kissing you so deeply it feels like drowning. Then you're in his lap, laughing breathlessly as he tickles you under the ribs, his hands quick and wicked, his smile sharper than knives. Hes whispering something in your ear that you cant quite hear, only feel, like softness dragged over raw nerve.
"You're mine." He mouths. "You were always mine."
You try to resist. You do. But your body is no longer yours.
Your feet move of their own accord. Sleepwalking, dreaming, yearning. You drift through the pulsing hallway, closer, closer to him, your fingertips grazing the door that should never be opened. The realm that should never be visited. Your breath hitches. The metal knob is cold, but your fingers close around it, slow and dream-dazed.
His hand covers yours.
So warm.
So cruel.
So right.
He leans in, brushing his mouth over your ear.
"Open it, little star," he whispers. "Let me out. Let me in."
You shiver, trembling, caught between want and terror.
But then...
Hands.
Strong.
Familiar. Desperate.
You're yanked backwards.
"April!"
Jacob.
You collapse into him, blinking, gasping. You're not in the hallway anymore, you're in the real world standing before the red door in the sanctum of Merrits realm, your bare hand still outstretched toward the knob. Jacob's chest is rising and falling hard as he pulls you away, holding you tightly to him like you might disappear.
Hes not angry. But hes so, so scared.
"Sweetheart...no," he murmurs, voice shaking as he rests his forehead against yours. "You were sleepwalking. I know you didn't mean to. But still..."
His arms stay locked around you, anchoring you. His fingers shake slightly at your waist. He looks at you like hes trying to hold back tears.
"I almost lost you right now," he whispers. "He almost got you."
Your lip trembled.
"I didn't know," you breathe. "I didn't mean..."
"I know." His voice is soft and firm. "I know, love. But that door was sealed for a reason. Merrit and Sylus...they bound him for a reason."
He pulls you in closer, lips brushing your temple. You can feel his heart hammering beneath his chest.
"And if they found out what almost happened...if they saw you reaching for that handle..." He trails off, swallowing hard. "They wouldn't let you off easy. And they'd punish me too, for letting you wander, for not protecting you."
You reach for him. "Jacob..."
His eyes close.
"I dont want to. God's, I dont want to."
You already know what's coming. You feel it in the weight of his silence.
"But you have to." You whisper.
He nods slowly, his mouth twisting into an unreadable line.
"I have to. Because if I dont...they will. And if Sylus and Merrit found out you nearly freed Nick...if they punish you together," his breath catches. "You wouldn't walk for a week. You might not laugh again for a month. They'd make sure of it."
You shiver, imagining it. The two darkest forces you know, uniting in fury.
Jacob sees your fear and cups your face gently in his hands, brushing his thumbs across your cheeks.
"Let me do it instead," he says softly. "Let me be the one. Ill be gentle...if I can be. But I won't hold back. Not completely. I can't."
You nod slowly.
"I trust you."
His expression shatters at that, so full of love and guilt it nearly breaks you. He kisses your forehead gently.
"Then come with me, little one," he whispers. "We're going somewhere quiet. Somewhere safe. And you'll take your punishment...not because I want to give it," he brushes a lock of hair behind your ear. "...but because you need to remember what that door really means."
His voice drops lower, breath hot against your ear.
"And what I'll do to stop you from opening it."
Your vision shimmers as Jacob lifts you effortlessly into his arms. His body is warm, solid, protective. Everything about him screams safety, yet you feel the tremor beneath the surface. The silent war inside him.
The world shifts.
The hallway with the red door dissolves, replaced by golden light and the song of leaves. You're in Jacob's realm now, his private sanctuary. The forest he created from his hearts longing.
The air smells like honeysuckle, clover and sunlight. Its beautiful, serene. Hopeful.
But Jacob's face is solemn.
He walks to the center of the glen, beneath the arch of a weeping willow whose silver-green tendrils sway like a curtain in the breeze. He sits on a low stone beneath it and draws you over his lap gently, positioning you facedown across his knees, your hips elevated, your body laid out like an offering.
Its then that you feel his form shifting, slightly, his Guardian nature beginning to rise. Not fully. Not the fierce protector youve seen before. But enough that his power hums just beneath the surface. His muscles are firm beneath you, and warmth radiates like the sun.
His beauty is breathtaking.
His light brown hair glows gold in the sun, tousled just enough to look boyish but framed with the grace of a prince. His eyes, soft hazel flecked with moss and honey, are deep and heavy with sorrow.
"This is going to sting, love." He says softly, brushing your hair back from your face. "But ill be here with you through every second."
The first smack lands sharp and clean on your bottom, the sound echoing like a clap through the trees. Your body jerks, a cry catching in your throat.
His hand caresses the sting instantly, rubbing slow circles over the heat. His palm is large and warm, fingers long, the heel of his hand firm.
"Im not mad," he whispers, and your heart aches at the kindness on his voice.
The second smack lands just beneath the first, deeper. More intense. You twitch in his lap, gasping.
"You're doing so well," he murmurs, his hand stroking over the ache. "So brave, love."
The third bites harder, and you yelp, your legs kicking gently.
"This part is almost over." He sooths, his voice balm.
And so it's goes. Ten in total.
Ten sharp, stinging smacks that build into a hot, blooming soreness. His hand is gentle after each, caressing, comforting. But the spanks themselves are deliberate. Not cruel. Not angry. But filled with purpose. By the sixth, you're wriggling in his lap, your thighs trembling, whimpering against your arm. By the eighth, tears well in your eyes. By the tenth, you're breathless and glassy-eyed, clutching his leg with shakey fingers.
He pulls you up into his arms without hesitation. His embrace is everything...strong, secure, sheltering.
"Im so proud of you," he whispers. "So proud."
You relax into him, eyes fluttering closed for a moment, until he speaks again, his voice heavier now.
"Im sorry love...but this next part will be difficult for you." His brows furrowed. "I have to. If I dont...Merrit and Sylus will do it together. And they'll take you from me. They'll torment you in ways I won't. I wont let them."
His lips graze your ear. "So I'm not stopping, not once it starts."
You freeze slightly in his arms. His voice has changed, no longer gentle. Its serious. Final.
He lays you down on the mossy ground, the petals beneath you are soft and cool. And from the forest floor, it rises...his power.
Vines of ivy, glistening with dew and shimmering with faint golden runes, curl up from the moss floor and wrap delicately around your wrists. They gently tug your arms above your head, binding them to one of the Willows long, arched roots that curls behind you like a cradle.
And it begins.
Jacob's fingers trace along your ribs. Feather-light.
You giggle. Its instinct. The kind that bubbles up unbidden. It feels sweet at first. Harmless.
His hands moved again, lower now, over your hips, teasing circles along the crease of your thighs.
"Jacob!" You gasp, half laughing, half pleading.
He doesnt answer.
His eyes are locked on you, focused, not cruel, but distant in that determined way he gets when he knows something must be done.
His hands trail up under your blouse, to that soft, soft skin directly above your waistband. His fingertips flutter against the deliciously ticklish flesh.
You squeal.
He doesnt pause.
Your giggles rise into full laughter. Your body writhes against the ground and his strong fingers now dig in, just slightly now. Precise. Unrelenting.
Your laughter climbs.
Your cheeks flushed.
Your hands pull against the ivy restraints. Your legs kick out. He straddles your thighs lightly to contain the last remaining freedom your body has left. He tickles again, fingers fluttering over your belly and sides.
Its no longer playful.
Its punishment.
"J-Jacob!" You gasp, nearly breathless now. "Okay...okay, please!"
He doesnt stop. His face is serious, heartbroken even.
"Im sorry, little one," he says quietly. "But I warned you. I have to."
His fingers tease your ribs again, dancing up and down like instruments of torment. You're laughing, uncontrollable now, tears stinging at your eyes, as your body uselessly bucks beneath him.
It feels maddening. And still, he doesnt stop.
Hes not harsh. He never digs too deep. But its endless. Light, delicate. Relentless. And your body is shaking with laughter, pleasure, desperation, overstimulation all rolled into one.
He leans down, whispering near your ear.
"Ill never let them take you from me," he says, his fingers tracing dangerously close to your underarms. "Even if it means making you cry."
And you do.
The first tear slipping down your cheek as you beg him softly to stop.
Jacob's fingers skirt just beneath those delicate hollows. He keeps your legs pinned beneath his, bracing for your body to fight him...his fingers have entered delicate territory, and Jacob, of all of them, knows what that means.
Your laughter is wild. Already close to panic. He knows how sensitive your underarms are. How your body explodes with sensation there. How even a second or two of teasing leaves you gasping. And he doesnt just tickle, he plays with the nerves there, slow and methodical, using the very tips of his fingers in gentle, flickering strokes like whispers across your skin.
You're instantly in tears, head tossing side to side, laughter erupting uncontrollably from your lips.
"JA-JACOB! Please!" You scream, legs thrashing against the moss, hips bucking wildly under his thighs. "I...I cant! Ill go crazy, please! Not there! Not there! I'll be good! I promise! I promise!"
He doesnt stop. He doesn't even pause.
"Shh," he soothes. His tone is kind, but his hands are cruel.
His fingers are scribbling, fluttering, stroking in maddening patterns, each one crafted to undo you. The sensation is electric, unbearable and deliciously intimate. You're whole body writhes beneath him.
You can't twist away. The vines have your arms stretched taught above you, exposing your helplessness. And hes watching you closely. You can feel the warmth of his breath as he leans over you, observing your face twist and contort with laughter and desperation.
"PLEASE!" You sob between gasps. "I swear I won't go near it again! Ill never go to the red door, ever! I promise Jacob! Please stop!"
His voice is soft, heartbreakingly calm.
"Begging won't help, love," he says too softly. "I'm not stopping. You need to learn."
He locked into his task, still tormenting under your arms, not letting up for a single seconds relief. His fingers feather in slow, precise circles, dragging a scream of laughter from you that ends in a high, breathless wheeze. You're twitching, helpless, tears running down your temples, into your hairline.
"You need to learn how loved you are." He continues. "And how dangerous that thing behind the door is."
You cant anwser, already desperately trying to catch your breath. All you can do is shake beneath him, your mouth open in helpless gasps as the sensations consume you.
"You're mine," Jacob whispers. "I won't lose you to him. I wont let Merrit and Sylus lose you either. If I have to teach your body to remember this lesson...so be it."
He drags a fingertip slowly, delicately, down the very center of your right underarm, and you squeal, your laughter twisting into something raw and pleading.
"Pleasepleaseplease!" You try to cry out, but the sound breaks into hiccuping giggles and a sob.
But still..he doesn't stop.
He tickles you with reverance. Each brush of his fingers is measured, intentional, devastating. He knows your body, knows how your skin shivers under light touches, how laughter gives away to gasping when your mind begins to slip from overstimulation.
He holds you down gently but immovable. He soothes you softly but firm.
"Just a little longer, my love," he whispers. "Just until I'm sure you'll never forget."
His fingers dance, this time with a cruel twist; one underarm stroked in slow, gentle spirals, while the other is scribbled on more roughly, unpredictably. The mismatch drives you wild.
"Jacob, please!" You beg again out of sheer desperation. "It...it tickles! I can't! Im gonna...!"
He shifts slightly, lowering his face beside yours. His breath is hot on your ear.
"I know, sweetheart." He whispers, his voice stuttering and raw at the edges ."That's why it works."
Hes not done. You haven't given him the surrender he needs to stop...and the weight of it is crushing him.
Jacob moves off you soundlessly and sits back on his heels, the forest is glowing softly behind him. The air feels suddenly charged with power, an overwhelming amount of it. And thats when it happens.
That moment when he completely let's go of the soft boy you love...and fully becomes the Guardian.
A surge of light rolls over him like a tide, shimmering through his golden skin. His hair ruffles as though caught in a breeze that doesn't exist. His eyes shift, still hazel, but now alight with molten amber. That power in the air, he is now glowing with it. His shoulders broaden, his form straightens and his presence expands until hes radiant. Pure.
A celestial force of nature not contained by gentleness, neither cruelty, not constrained by weakness or mercy. He simply functions as the right hand of protection by most means possible.
You're his entire world, the reason he exits to be, and now, the only thing he sees.
You can barely move as he turns his gaze to you. It pins you. If you weren't already restrained, you'd possess zero will to run from him. Hes already knelt beside your feet and he makes no effort to change his position.
You know what's coming.
"I'm sorry I have to be this way to you," he said, voice deep, deeper than you'd ever heard it before. "But I'll never hurt you. Ill never let anyone hurt you. Ill protect you always, even if that means protecting you from yourself."
The words break you.
Because you believe him.
Because you know this is the only way he can do this. He had to become something stronger, something unshakable. His Guardian form let's him do what his gentle soul couldn't bear on its own.
And he begins again.
He lifts one of your feet delicately in both hands, cupping your ankle as if it were a sacred object, and brings it into his lap. You could see the restraint he was enduring for you, in order to be soft and gentle. Magic shimmers on his fingertips, a soft halo of silver light emanating from each one, a spell to heighten; mercy wrapped in torment to ensure that the punishment would end quickly.
He begins with a single finger tracing down the center of your arch, from heel to ball...a whispers breath of lightness. You shriek instantly, toes flexing, ankle dragging back instinctively, but he holds you there effortlessly by magic.
He doesn't speak. He only watches.
He traces the line again. Then again. A third time.
Each stroke is softer, slower, more devastating.
Your laughter rings out in desperate, screaming bursts, ripped from you by each drag of his fingertip.
When he sees your toes curl, he gently uncurls them with his hand, holding them back with firm, supernatural ease. His left hand holds your toes back, spreading your sole long and taut, while his right hand begins to scritch. Not randomly. He targets your most sensitive zones; the very center of your arch, the tender base of your toes, that maddening spot just under the ball where nerves scream.
Your laughter is raw again.
"NONONONONO, JACOB PLEASE!" You hollar. "It tickles too much! Ill do anything! Ill be a good girl! Ill never even think about that door again...just please! I promise, please!"
He shifts to your toes, stroking between them, teasing each gap. He even let's one finger circle the base of your pinky toe until you're squealing like a child.
Still he says nothing.
Because now, the punishment is the lesson. You wriggle and twist, but your foot is trapped, his fingers dancing devilishly, calmly, endlessly.
You can barely breathe when he switches feet, placing the first one down so tenderly, kissing the arch once like an apology before switching to the other.
He looks up at you, expression soft but unreadable. Then begins again.
This time, his fingers zigzag across the entire sole in chaotic, little patterns, unpredictable and teasing. You could see the pattern being drawn in little silvery trails the magic left faintly in its wake. He'll pause a moment to stroke the top of your foot, then strike again at the arch, making you fall apart with laughter.
Hes thorough. Patient. Merciless in his devotion. He holds your ankle like its precious even while he tickles you beyond your limit.
You're blushing, sweating, howling so hard, your lungs ache. Your voice breaks completely. Screams become stuck in your throat as all your body can do anymore is gasp for breath. Your body goes slack...and it all finally stops. Your body lies limp in the moss, trembling and flushed from torment. Moisture clings to your skin in a light sheen. Jacob watches you closely as your chest stops struggling to rise and fall with the effort to catch your breath. He releases your bindings from your wrists. They dissolve into petals , falling weightless to the ground.
He lifts you, one arm under your thigh, the other cradling your back, pulling you into the warmth of his chest. His body, still radiating light and strength, wraps around you like a blanket.
His voice is calm, sweet, melting against your neck like honey dripping off the tongue.
"I'll never let you forget this, love," He murmurs. "Because I'd rather have you crying in my arms...than for you to dissappear behind that door."
He carries you silently away as the light in the glen begins to fade, staining the trees with amber and rose. He will stay in this form as long as he needs, protecting you with or without mercy. Loving you with or without gentleness, until the storm passes...until you're completely safe.
