Rue's POV - The Morning After

he: "he" him: "him" his: "his" baby: "" slut: "no" mc: "" eye: "light blue" food: "healthy" -- **The POV takes place immediately after the Soulmate Update ends in the public demo.** Please enter your name (capitalized) {text input for: 'mc'} What is your character’s gender? {link to: "maleMC", label: "A man."} {link to: "femMC", label: "A woman."}

**Enter your pet name for Rue (lowercase).** {text input for: 'baby'} **What color are your eyes?** {dropdown menu for: 'eye', choices: ['light blue', 'dark blue', 'grey', 'black', 'brown', 'hazel', 'light green', 'dark green']} **What kind of food do you prefer?** {dropdown menu for: 'food', choices: ['healthy', 'junk']} **Are you used to casual sex or hookups?** {dropdown menu for: 'slut', choices: ['yes', 'no']} {link to: "maleMCpov", label: "Begin."}

Something stirs {him} awake, forcing Rue to crack one eye open. The first gray light of dawn has already settled over the chilly room, and a second sharp ringtone reveals the culprit: {mc}'s phone. Rue needs a moment to blink away the morning blur before {he} reaches lazily for {his} own phone and checks the time. Only a few minutes past five. Too early to get up and hover around like a ghost, though if last night hadn't ended the way it did, {he}'d probably still be sleeping off a few beers and the lingering buzz from Alex’s potent weed. Not that {he}’s complaining. He rolls onto {his} side, propping {his} head on one hand to watch the person sleeping peacefully beside {him}. {mc}’s so handsome, yet somehow, it’s totally unimportant, because what really gets to Rue… is something beneath all that. Something {he} can’t quite name. {link to: "malepro", label: "So, so weird."}

Something stirs {him} awake, forcing Rue to crack one eye open. The first gray light of dawn has already settled over the chilly room, and a second sharp ringtone reveals the culprit: {mc}'s phone. Rue needs a moment to blink away the morning blur before {he} reaches lazily for {his} own phone and checks the time. Only a few minutes past five. Too early to get up and hover around like a ghost, though if last night hadn't ended the way it did, {he}'d probably still be sleeping off a few beers and the lingering buzz from Alex’s potent weed. Not that {he}’s complaining. Rue rolls onto {his} side, propping {his} head on one hand to watch the person sleeping peacefully beside {him}. {mc}’s so beautiful, yet somehow, it’s totally unimportant, because what really gets to Rue… is something beneath all that. Something {he} can’t quite name. {link to: "fempro", label: "So, so weird."}

“What’s so amusing?” {mc} asks, his raspy voice brushing the corner of Rue’s mouth. “Nothing in particular. It just tickles,” Rue murmurs. “Oh? How about this?” The finger withdraws, and the tip of {mc}’s tongue takes its place, gliding along Rue’s upper lip. It tickles even more, but the sensation also sends a jolt of pleasure down Rue's spine, making his hips jerk instinctively. He raises his arms, not sure if it's to grab or restrain himself, shifting his gaze to {mc}, who leans over him with a heated whisper. “Does it tickle too?” Whatever answer Rue might have given is immediately swallowed by {mc}’s tongue slipping past his pliant lips. It starts slowly, lazily, with shallow strokes as their bodies draw closer. Then it flares up when Rue buries his hands in {mc}’s hair, melting into an open-mouthed kiss with waves of heat spreading through his groin. “You smell so fucking good,” {mc} whispers, tracing the wet trails along Rue’s neck and jaw; his fingers wander over his flanks and hips. The urge to drop his barriers—to make this growing pleasure even more intense—becomes almost unbearable for Rue. He needs to do it, just... a little, eyes glazing over when the taste of {mc}’s arousal begins seeping into his senses. “Shit,” he breathes, instinctively wrapping his legs around {mc}, hearing his soft, surprised chuckle. “What the hell, baby?” he rumbles, panting. “You’re so hard already.” "I know... I need—" Rue tilts his head, digging his fingers into {mc}'s back, forcing him to melt against Rue’s yielding body, to grip his hips and begin a maddening grind against Rue's erection with only the thin layers of their boxer briefs separating them. But the sharp ringing of {mc}’s phone cuts through the moment, making the world tear at the edges. “Fuck.” {mc}’s whisper is no longer heavy with promise. It’s lower now, edged with annoyance, and when he gazes at Rue, his deep {eye} eyes shine with desperation. “I need to check what this is about." “It’s okay,” Rue mutters, shutting his eyes to try to ground himself a bit before the inevitable comedown. He feels {mc}’s shoulders tense before he crushes Rue against his chest in a tight embrace, then lets his arms drop to the mattress. The moment {mc} pulls away, Rue feels the cold envelop {him}. {link to: "maleMCtour", label: "Next"}

She scans the messages with a sigh, her shoulders sagging. The unwelcome implication of that beeping was clear from the start, yet Rue still let {him}self get carried away by the intoxicating feeling of being close to {mc} and now pays for it with a building headache. No regrets, though. He chews on his reddened bottom lip to stifle a smile, {his} body still responding with fading shivers. The persistent question gnawing at {his} mind: *When am I gonna see you again?* “I’m keeping your boxers, by the way.” {mc} winks, rising to get dressed in yesterday’s clothes as a spark of heat passes between them. Rue’s face heats up. His eyes linger on {mc}’s frame with an intensity he’s never directed at another person, both entranced and weirded out by being this unapologetically interested in someone else... Interested at all… It exposes an intriguing side of him, one he wasn’t aware of. “The tour…?” Rue snaps {his} gaze up, finding {mc} watching {him} with a harmless smirk. “What?” “I asked if you knew anything specific about the tour yet,” {mc} repeats, her brows arching. Rue needs a moment to answer, running {his} fingers through {his} curls, trying to slow {his} racing thoughts. But when the gears finally shift inside {his} mind, {he} can’t help but feel a different kind of warmth spreading through {his} chest. “It’s starting in two months,” {he} says with a jolt of excitement. “If everything goes as planned, I mean. There isn’t much we can say at this stage of the preparations, but it’s going well… at least that’s what they told Mick.” Rue just loves the prospect, the thrill of feeling every riff resonate through the audience, giving all {he} has in exchange for a pure wave of emotion, letting it all flow through {him} with a revitalizing force. It’s a sensation like nothing else, a high {he}’s already experienced, but never on such a scale. {link to: "femMCread", label: "It’s going to be something else entirely."}

{mc} scans the messages with a sigh, his shoulders sagging. The unwelcome implication of that beeping was clear from the start, yet Rue still let {him}self get carried away by the intoxicating feeling of being close to {mc} and now pays for it with a building headache. No regrets, though. He chews on his bottom lip to stifle a smile, {his} body still responding with fading shivers, the persistent question gnawing at {his} mind: *When am I gonna see you again?* “I’m keeping your boxers, by the way.” {mc} winks, rising to get dressed in yesterday’s clothes as a spark of heat passes between them. Rue’s face heats up. His eyes linger on {mc}’s frame with an intensity he’s never directed at another person, both entranced and weirded out by being this unapologetically interested in someone else... Interested at all… It exposes an intriguing side of him, one he wasn’t aware of. “The tour…?” Rue snaps {his} gaze up, finding {mc} watching {him} with a harmless smirk. “What?” “I asked if you knew anything specific about the tour yet,” {mc} repeats, his brows arching. Rue needs a moment to answer, running {his} fingers through {his} curls, trying to slow {his} racing thoughts. But when the gears finally shift inside {his} mind, {he} can’t help but feel a different kind of warmth spreading through {his} chest. “It’s starting in two months,” {he} says with a jolt of excitement. “If everything goes as planned, I mean. There isn’t much we can say at this stage of the preparations, but it’s going well… at least that’s what they told Mick.” Rue just loves the prospect, the thrill of feeling every riff resonate through the audience, giving all {he} has in exchange for a pure wave of emotion, letting it all flow through {him} with a revitalizing force. It’s a sensation like nothing else, a high {he}’s already experienced, but never on such a scale. {link to: "maleMCread", label: "It’s going to be something else entirely."}

“What’s so amusing?” {mc} asks, her raspy voice brushing the corner of Rue’s mouth. “Nothing in particular. It just tickles,” Rue murmurs. “Oh? How about this?” The finger withdraws, and the tip of {mc}’s tongue takes its place, gliding along Rue’s upper lip. It tickles even more, but the sensation also sends a jolt of pleasure down {his} spine, making his hips jerk instinctively. She notices this with a chuckle, meeting his smoldering gaze. Then she grabs his wrists to raise his arms above his head and nimbly settles onto his lap. Her weight and warmth pressing deliciously against his groin. “Shit, that’s good,” he gasps, smiling bashfully. Flustered by his own need, yet too rapidly heating up to truly give a damn how all of it makes him look. {mc} bites her lip, rolling her hips in a sensual motion, leaving him torn between shutting his eyes in search of an ounce of restraint and drinking in the gorgeous sight of her body. Even in his plain boxer briefs, she looks exceptionally alluring, with the soft swell of her naked breasts and her face—the only one that matters—brightened by a seductive smile. “I believe we have some unfinished business,” she rasps, leaning in the moment Rue pushes himself up to brush his lips against hers. But it soon flares up, making them melt into a deep, open-mouthed kiss. He cups her ass, drawing her closer, feeling her soft burning center rub against his thickening hardness. And the urge to drop his barriers—to make this rippling pleasure even more intense—becomes almost unbearable. He needs to do it, just... a little, eyes glazing over when the taste of {mc}’s arousal begins seeping into his senses. “Shit,” he breathes, his hips jerking eagerly as he aligns himself with her, ready to flip her over and chase the ecstasy her body has to offer. “What the hell, baby?” she gasps, panting. “You’re so hard.” “I just want you,” he whimpers, burying his face against her breasts, licking at her skin until she yanks at his hair in a desperate gesture. [if slut === "yes"] “There’s… a condom in my pocket,” she whispers, then chuckles when his eyes widen with dumbstruck realization. “You don’t want to make me pregnant, do you?” [continue] [if slut === "no"] “Do you—Fuck, I hope you have a condom,” she whispers, then chuckles when his eyes widen with dumbstruck realization. “You don’t want to make me pregnant, do you?” [continue] “Um,” he stutters, thoughts turning into mush, as more blood rushes into his length while she stares at him, a little dazed. But the sharp ringing of {mc}’s phone cuts through the moment, making the world tear at the edges. “Fuck,” she sighs. Her voice is no longer heavy with promise. It’s lower now, edged with annoyance, and when she gazes at Rue, her deep {eye} eyes shine with desperation. “I need to check what this is about.” “It’s okay,” Rue mutters, shutting his eyes to try to ground himself a bit before the inevitable comedown. {mc} falls into his embrace, letting him sooth her with gentle caresses, ignoring his own trembling body. But the moment she pulls away, Rue feels the cold envelop {him}. {link to: "femMCtour", label: "Next"}

“I’m just worried I won’t make it until you return.” The words sound almost casual, but the implication slams into Rue like a freight train, making {him} widen {his} eyes in shock at this open admission of helplessness from {mc}. It mirrors Rue's own, turning {his} eyes into glimmering pools of emotion too raw to contain. "Don't—Please, don't say that," {he} pleads, raising {his} hands, at a loss, motioning for {mc} to come closer, hug {him}... do anything to somehow ease this building dread. "Sorry, {baby}, I was joking," {mc} mutters into Rue's neck, embracing {his} slightly shivering form, but it’s a lie they both choose to accept. "I'll miss you, though," {mc} continues, caressing Rue's back. "I'll miss this..." The gentle words grow heated while their embrace becomes more desperate. The relentless pull between them never weakening. And in the blink of an eye, they draw even closer until another breath brings their lips together. So, so slow, with that intoxicating hunger just beneath the surface. {link to: "maleMCknocking", label: "Next"}

“I think we’ll be fine.” Rue smiles gently, relieved that {mc} sees this tour as nothing but a temporary separation, which will probably still put them both through the wringer. But it’s not the Middle Ages, they’ll still be able to stay in touch. "I do hope for some extra live footage, though." {mc} grins, stepping closer the moment Rue does the same. "Sure thing." "I kind of like seeing you all sweaty and still pumped with adrenaline." "{mc}..." "What? I wouldn’t say that’s too much to ask if you're leaving me behind." "Are you guilt-tripping me?" Rue asks, a bit incredulous but soon they both chuckle, while the air between them grows heated. The relentless pull never weakens. And in the blink of an eye, they draw even closer until another breath brings their lips together. So, so slow, with that intoxicating hunger just beneath the surface. {link to: "maleMCknocking", label: "Next"}

“What better way to practice phone sex?” Rue parts {his} lips but quickly lowers {his} head, hiding {his} increasingly warm face. The fact that {he}'s still flushed with embarrassment after everything they did last night is kind of irritating, but {he} can't seem to overcome {his} shyness anytime soon. "What? Nothing to say about that?" {mc} murmurs, stepping closer. "I'd say that I won't need much encouragement after seeing you all sweaty and pumped up with adrenaline." "{mc}..." "We can start small, you know," {mc} continues to torture Rue, drawing {him} into a loose embrace. "With a few hot messages..." Rue swallows hard, while {his} mind is instantly flooded with intrusive thoughts and images, making {him} even more flustered, but also... aroused. Their embrace becomes more desperate. The relentless pull between them never weakening. And in the blink of an eye, they draw even closer until another breath brings their lips together. So, so slow, with that intoxicating hunger just beneath the surface. {link to: "maleMCknocking", label: "Next"}

“I don’t like the prospect, but I’m happy for you.” {mc}'s voice sounds sad, but there's an unmistakable hint of fondness beneath it, causing Rue to smile with gratitude and wistfulness of {his} own. "You and music..." Rue falters, not sure if {he} should voice the truth about how inseparable the two remain in {his} heart. But {mc} seems to understand it, stepping closer and drawing Rue into a hug. “I’d never make you choose.” The words make {him} feel relieved, but the embrace reminds {him} how challenging it will be to stay away from {mc}, how desperate {he} becomes the moment their bodies press together. And {mc} senses {his} giddiness, {his} growing arousal as their embrace becomes tighter. The relentless pull between them never weakening. And in the blink of an eye, they draw even closer until another breath brings their lips together. So, so slow, with that intoxicating hunger just beneath the surface. {link to: "maleMCknocking", label: "Next"}

“I hate the thought of you being so far away from me." {mc}'s gaze darkens, fixing on Rue with the unapologetic weight of emotions so dense they feel almost viscous, sending a shiver down {his} spine. "I’d much rather keep you by my side." "{mc}." "What? That's the truth," {mc} murmurs, grabbing Rue's hip to pull {him} closer. "I know it's inconvenient, but that's exactly how I feel. This bond messes with my head." The words sound harsh, almost like a complaint, but the air between them grows thick with the same hunger clouding {mc}'s eyes. Rue can't help but feel affected, stepping even closer, with arousal slowly seeping through {his} pores. The hues of their bond turning dark and shimmering, and in the blink of an eye, they draw even closer until another breath brings their lips together. So, so slow, with that intoxicating hunger just beneath the surface. {link to: "maleMCknocking", label: "Next"}

Rue’s barely kissed anyone before, having always avoided that truly intimate act, but kissing {mc} feels natural. It’s so intensely pleasurable that {he} must be doing it right—no experience needed when {his} body responds instinctively. Every wet stroke of {mc}’s tongue ripples through Rue's nerves, stripping {him} of one conscious thought after another. And when they fall back on the mattress, with barely any space between their heated flesh, Rue’s mind goes blank… There’s nothing but hunger. Insatiable. Growing and growing beyond reason… until it gets violently shattered by another call. “I need to go, fuck…” {mc}’s voice sounds wrecked when he looks at Rue with barely contained frustration, his bright eyes heavy with promise. Then harsh knocking at the door joins the phone’s merciless ringing. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Rue closes {his} eyes when {mc} lets out a loud sigh against {his} shoulder, leaves one last burning kiss there, nips Rue's skin quickly, then a little harder, as though it has just occurred to him that he could leave his mark… The knocking repeats. “Wait a fucking minute!” {mc} snaps, shooting an angry look toward the door. Any second now, Rue expects Mick to march in furiously, but only his strained voice comes through the door. “Kid, you good?” {mc} gives him an exasperated look as Rue's cheeks burn with embarrassment at Mick treating {him} like a child… “Rue!” And of course, Rue has to play along with this humiliating routine, because otherwise the bassist won’t let it go. “I’m fine, man, go away!” Rue raises {his} voice, lacing it with just the right measure of annoyance. Then {his} stomach rumbles, and {he} feels even more embarrassed, while {mc} chuckles fondly, brushing a stray lock from Rue’s face. “Sorry for not thinking about breakfast.” “I should be the one taking care of it…” Rue says, {his} voice stripped of playfulness, because a lazy morning with all the time in the world still feels so distant, almost like a dream. {link to: "maleMCfood", label: "Next"}

Rue’s barely kissed anyone before, having always avoided that truly intimate act, but kissing {mc} feels natural. It’s so intensely pleasurable that {he} must be doing it right—no experience needed when {his} body responds instinctively. Every wet stroke of {mc}’s tongue ripples through Rue's nerves, stripping {him} of one conscious thought after another. And when they fall back on the mattress, with barely any space between their heated flesh, Rue’s mind goes blank… There’s nothing but hunger. Insatiable. Growing and growing beyond reason… until it gets violently shattered by another call. “I need to go, fuck…” {mc}’s voice sounds wrecked when she looks at Rue with barely contained frustration, her bright eyes heavy with promise. Then harsh knocking at the door joins the phone’s merciless ringing. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Rue closes {his} eyes when {mc} lets out a loud sigh against {his} shoulder, leaves one last burning kiss there, nips Rue's skin quickly, then a little harder, as though it has just occurred to her that she could leave her mark… The knocking repeats. “Wait a fucking minute!” {mc} snaps, shooting an angry look toward the door. Any second now, Rue expects Mick to march in furiously, but only his strained voice comes through the door. “Kid, you good?” {mc} gives Rue an exasperated look as {his} cheeks burn with embarrassment at Mick treating {him} like a child… “Rue!” And of course, Rue has to play along with this humiliating routine, because otherwise the bassist won’t let it go. “I’m fine, man, go away!” Rue raises {his} voice, lacing it with just the right measure of annoyance. Then {his} stomach rumbles, and {he} feels even more embarrassed, while {mc} chuckles fondly, brushing a stray lock from Rue’s face. “Sorry for not thinking about breakfast.” “I should be the one taking care of it…” Rue says, {his} voice stripped of playfulness, because a lazy morning with all the time in the world still feels so distant, almost like a dream. {link to: "femMCfood", label: "Next"}

[if food === "healthy"] “God, I wish I could cook you something,” {mc} murmurs softly, and Rue’s eyes light up as {his} heart swells with giddiness. “What do you like? Hm?” “I’m not very fond of meat, but other than that, anything goes,” Rue says casually, then remembers that {he} does, in fact, have preferences, and {his} expression doesn’t go unnoticed. “I suspect there’s more to it?” “Well…” “Come on, spill,” {mc} purrs. “I want to know everything about you.” He blinks just as Rue fixates on the awkward look on his face, because… it’s here again, this open fascination. They both share it. There’s no point denying. “Okay, fine,” Rue chuckles. “I love seafood, and sweet things like pancakes or anything with veggies except for Brussels sprouts.” He grimaces. “I really hate those.” The moment {he} looks at {mc}, {his} soulmate snorts, his expression affectionate. “I feel kind of pressured now…” “Shit, I’m totally fine with almost anything you make for me. I’m really not that picky.” “Um, I’m not convinced, {baby},” {mc} says with teasing skepticism. “You sound kind of high-maintenance when it comes to food.” His tone remains playful, so Rue stops trying to defend himself. “Well, I’m very considerate too, so I can definitely return the favor.” “Yeah? Will you cook for me too?” “Sure,” Rue says without blinking, omitting the truth that {his} entire cooking experience is limited to scrambled eggs, thanks to a mom who’s always spoiled {him} with home-cooked meals. [continue] [if food === "junk"] “I’m afraid I couldn’t offer you anything more than cereal or something from my stash of frozen food, but there’s always a fast-food place on the corner…” {mc} snorts, noticing Rue’s involuntary grimace. “What? Not a fan?” “I mean… a bakery would be better, I think.” “A bakery? I need a bit more than a plain roll to function.” Now it’s Rue’s turn to chuckle. “They usually sell sandwiches. Much better than frozen junk,” {he} says, rolling {his} eyes, then stares questioningly at {mc}’s amused expression. “What?” “I have a feeling you’re kinda picky about food…” “And if I am?” Rue raises an eyebrow in playful challenge. “Then I’ll gladly deal with that.” {mc} winks. “Well, fortunately for you, I can make our breakfasts,” Rue says without blinking, omitting the truth that {his} entire cooking experience is limited to scrambled eggs, thanks to a mom who’s always spoiled {him} with home-cooked meals. [continue] But it's not a problem, really. {link to: "malefood", label: "He’ll learn."}

[if food === "healthy"] “God, I wish I could cook you something,” {mc} murmurs softly, and Rue’s eyes light up as {his} heart swells with giddiness. “What do you like? Hm?” “I’m not very fond of meat, but other than that, anything goes,” Rue says casually, then remembers that {he} does, in fact, have preferences, and {his} expression doesn’t go unnoticed. “I suspect there’s more to it?” “Well…” “Come on, spill,” {mc} purrs. “I want to know everything about you.” She blinks just as Rue fixates on the awkward look on her face, because… it’s here again, this open fascination. They both share it. There’s no point denying. “Okay, fine,” Rue chuckles. “I love seafood, and sweet things like pancakes or anything with veggies except for Brussels sprouts.” He grimaces. “I really hate those.” The moment {he} looks at {mc}, {his} soulmate snorts, her expression affectionate. “I feel kind of pressured now…” “Shit, I’m totally fine with almost anything you make for me. I’m really not that picky.” “Um, I’m not convinced, {baby},” {mc} says with teasing skepticism. “You sound kind of high-maintenance when it comes to food.” Her tone remains playful, so Rue stops trying to defend himself. “Well, I’m very considerate too, so I can definitely return the favor.” “Yeah? Will you cook for me too?” “Sure,” Rue says without blinking, omitting the truth that {his} entire cooking experience is limited to scrambled eggs, thanks to a mom who’s always spoiled {him} with home-cooked meals. [continue] [if food === "junk"] “I’m afraid I couldn’t offer you anything more than cereal or something from my stash of frozen food, but there’s always a fast-food place on the corner…” {mc} snorts, noticing Rue’s involuntary grimace. “What? Not a fan?” “I mean… a bakery would be better, I think.” “A bakery? I need a bit more than a plain roll to function.” Now it’s Rue’s turn to chuckle. “They usually sell sandwiches. Much better than frozen junk,” {he} says, rolling {his} eyes, then stares questioningly at {mc}’s amused expression. “What?” “I have a feeling you’re kinda picky about food…” “And if I am?” Rue raises an eyebrow in playful challenge. “Then I’ll gladly deal with that.” {mc} winks. “Well, fortunately for you, I can make our breakfasts,” Rue says without blinking, omitting the truth that {his} entire cooking experience is limited to scrambled eggs, thanks to a mom who’s always spoiled {him} with home-cooked meals. [continue] But it's not a problem, really. {link to: "femalefood", label: "He’ll learn."}

"Paul’s always been a pussy," {mc} says, shrugging, though the way his posture tenses indicates there’s more to it, years’ worth of hurt and resentment. An unimaginable situation messing everything up. Rue couldn’t even begin to understand, but things have changed for him lately and where once he would have looked at Paul with nothing but compassion, now he sees the danger, the source of the fracture slowly wearing {mc} down. It makes him resent Paul a bit too… and feel awful about it. “I hope he was respectful?” {mc} asks warily. “Yeah… just scared and lost,” Rue offers a weak smile. “I mean, who wouldn’t freak out in his shoes?” “I wouldn’t.” {mc} smirks, but his smugness is tinged with bitterness. “Anyway, I should probably message Paul to keep him from doing anything stupid,” {mc} mutters, pecking Rue on the lips. “We’ll be in touch, yeah?” he asks with a hint of hesitation as if it were even debatable. “You know it.” Rue grins, and for a moment they just look at each other with a touch of goofy warmth. Then {mc} opens the door and falters, his surprised expression quickly turning into annoyance. “Great party, man,” he says bitingly to someone who has apparently just wandered into the hallway, almost certainly Mick. Then he slips past the bassist, disappearing behind the door. {link to: "maleMCmick", label: "Next"}

"I feel kind of bad for him," {mc} admits, turning his face away as if that was something shameful. Rue finds this compassion exceptionally heartwarming. Who wouldn’t resent the person indirectly responsible for tearing his life apart? Yet {mc} remains surprisingly understanding toward Paul. Rue offers him a weak smile, touching his hand. “Anyway, I should probably message Paul to keep him from doing anything stupid,” {mc} mutters, pecking Rue on the lips. “We’ll be in touch, yeah?” he asks with a hint of hesitation as if it were even debatable. “You know it.” Rue grins, and for a moment they just look at each other with a touch of goofy warmth. Then {mc} opens the door and falters, his surprised expression quickly turning into annoyance. “Great party, man,” he says bitingly to someone who has apparently just wandered into the hallway, almost certainly Mick. Then he slips past the bassist, disappearing behind the door. {link to: "maleMCmick", label: "Next"}

“I can’t believe that asshole got to see you half-naked,” {mc} says lightly, but there’s an interesting glint in his eyes. “Is he—” Rue falters, feeling slightly uncomfortable, even more when {mc} focuses on his tingling face. “Into guys?” {mc} snorts and his amusement is contagious. “I take that as a no,” Rue chuckles. “He’s completely straight, head over heels for his hot assistant who will grow old before he makes a move.” “That’s kind of cute,” Rue says half-jokingly, causing {mc} to stare at him with hilarious disbelief. “What?” “There’s nothing CUTE about Paul,” he says curtly. “Anyway, I should probably message Paul to keep him from doing anything stupid,” {mc} mutters, pecking Rue on the lips. “We’ll be in touch, yeah?” he asks with a hint of hesitation as if it were even debatable. “You know it.” Rue grins, and for a moment they just look at each other with a touch of goofy warmth. Then {mc} opens the door and falters, his surprised expression quickly turning into annoyance. “Great party, man,” he says bitingly to someone who has apparently just wandered into the hallway, almost certainly Mick. Then he slips past the bassist, disappearing behind the door. {link to: "maleMCmick", label: "Next"}

"He was respectful, I hope?" {mc} asks warily, but Rue offers a weak smile. “Yeah… just scared and lost, like anyone would in his shoes, right?” “I wouldn’t.” {mc} smirks, but his smugness is tinged with bitterness. “Anyway, I should probably message Paul to keep him from doing anything stupid,” {mc} mutters, pecking Rue on the lips. “We’ll be in touch, yeah?” he asks with a hint of hesitation as if it were even debatable. “You know it.” Rue grins, and for a moment they just look at each other with a touch of goofy warmth. Then {mc} opens the door and falters, his surprised expression quickly turning into annoyance. “Great party, man,” he says bitingly to someone who has apparently just wandered into the hallway, almost certainly Mick. Then he slips past the bassist, disappearing behind the door. {link to: "maleMCmick", label: "Next"}

"Paula’s always been a coward," {mc} says, shrugging, though the way her posture tenses indicates there’s more to it, years’ worth of hurt and resentment. An unimaginable situation messing everything up. Rue couldn’t even begin to understand, but things have changed for him lately and where once he would have looked at Paula with nothing but compassion, now he sees the danger, the source of the fracture slowly wearing {mc} down. It makes him resent Paula a bit too… and feel awful about it. “I hope she was respectful?” {mc} asks warily. “Yeah… just scared and lost,” Rue offers a weak smile. “I mean, who wouldn’t freak out in her shoes?” “I wouldn’t.” {mc} smirks, but her smugness is tinged with bitterness. “Anyway, I should probably message Paula to keep her from doing anything stupid,” {mc} mutters, pecking Rue on the lips. “We’ll be in touch, yeah?” she asks with a hint of hesitation as if it were even debatable. “You know it.” Rue grins, and for a moment they just look at each other with a touch of goofy warmth. Then {mc} opens the door and falters, her surprised expression quickly turning into annoyance. “Great party, man,” she says bitingly to someone who has apparently just wandered into the hallway, almost certainly Mick. Then she slips past the bassist, disappearing behind the door. {link to: "femMCmick", label: "Next"}

"I feel kind of bad for her," {mc} admits, turning her face away as if that was something shameful. Rue finds this compassion exceptionally heartwarming. Who wouldn’t resent the person indirectly responsible for tearing her life apart? Yet {mc} remains surprisingly understanding toward Paula. Rue offers her a weak smile, touching her hand. “Anyway, I should probably message Paula to keep her from doing anything stupid,” {mc} mutters, pecking Rue on the lips. “We’ll be in touch, yeah?” she asks with a hint of hesitation as if it were even debatable. “You know it.” Rue grins, and for a moment they just look at each other with a touch of goofy warmth. Then {mc} opens the door and falters, her surprised expression quickly turning into annoyance. “Great party, man,” she says bitingly to someone who has apparently just wandered into the hallway, almost certainly Mick. Then she slips past the bassist, disappearing behind the door. {link to: "femMCmick", label: "Next"}

"I can’t believe she got to see you half-naked." {mc} chuckles, but there’s an interesting glint in her eyes, a hint of smugness. “Well—” Rue falters, feeling slightly bashful and a little flattered. "I believe she was the one who felt more uncomfortable between the two of us.” "Oh, God, yes—" {mc} snorts. "Flashing her tits for a stranger must have traumatized her." "It did," Rue says without an ounce of amusement, and {mc} rolls her eyes, sighing. "I'm trying to lighten the mood here." “Well, you need to work on that a bit.” Rue forces a smile. “Anyway, I should probably message Paula to keep her from doing anything stupid,” {mc} mutters, pecking Rue on the lips. “We’ll be in touch, yeah?” she asks with a hint of hesitation as if it were even debatable. “You know it.” Rue grins, and for a moment they just look at each other with a touch of goofy warmth. Then {mc} opens the door and falters, her surprised expression quickly turning into annoyance. “Great party, man,” she says bitingly to someone who has apparently just wandered into the hallway, almost certainly Mick. Then she slips past the bassist, disappearing behind the door. {link to: "femMCmick", label: "Next"}

"She was respectful, I hope?" {mc} asks warily, but Rue offers a weak smile. “Yeah… just scared and lost, like anyone would in her shoes, right?” “I wouldn’t.” {mc} smirks, but her smugness is tinged with bitterness. “Anyway, I should probably message Paula to keep her from doing anything stupid,” {mc} mutters, pecking Rue on the lips. “We’ll be in touch, yeah?” she asks with a hint of hesitation as if it were even debatable. “You know it.” Rue grins, and for a moment they just look at each other with a touch of goofy warmth. Then {mc} opens the door and falters, her surprised expression quickly turning into annoyance. “Great party, man,” she says bitingly to someone who has apparently just wandered into the hallway, almost certainly Mick. Then she slips past the bassist, disappearing behind the door. {link to: "femMCmick", label: "Next"}

The moment {mc}'s footsteps fade away, Mick peeks into the room. An upgrade from last time, when he simply barged in, stumbling across something rather difficult to unsee. His relieved eyes meet Rue’s exasperated gaze. “How nice of you to at least put on a T-shirt.” “Seriously? You’re the one complaining?” Rue snaps, referring to Mick’s pretty loose definition of basic decency. “Oh, shut it,” the bassist barks back, marching straight to the window to crack it open. “It fucking stinks in here.” “I bet not even half as bad as downstairs.” Rue grins meanly but gets up anyway, ready to help with cleaning the house. Taking his mind off {mc} is exactly what {he} needs right now. “Let me just find my headphones, and I’ll give you a hand with the mess.” But Mick just stands there, looking slightly constipated, making Rue roll {his} eyes in growing frustration. “What?” Mick glances out the window, then closes it, choosing privacy over airing out the room. “That guy…” “{mc},” Rue says pointedly, looking at Mick in a way that should discourage the bassist from digging any further. But of course, Mick can’t help his incurable nosiness or his overprotective streak toward Rue. It’s always been like that, yet now, more than ever, it’s starting to annoy Rue, exposing how objectively terrible {he}’s been at setting boundaries. And still is, though this time around, {mc}’s the only one Rue’s willing to let close. “That guy is trouble,” Mick declares with a grim expression that makes Rue shoot him a warning glare. {link to: "maleMCmickcd", label: "I don’t want to talk about it."}

The moment her footsteps fade away, Mick peeks into the room. An upgrade from last time, when he simply barged in, stumbling across something rather difficult to unsee. His relieved eyes meet Rue’s exasperated gaze. “How nice of you to at least put on a T-shirt.” “Seriously? You’re the one complaining?” Rue snaps, referring to Mick’s pretty loose definition of basic decency. “Oh, shut it,” the bassist barks back, marching straight to the window to crack it open. “It fucking stinks in here.” “I bet not even half as bad as downstairs.” Rue grins meanly but gets up anyway, ready to help with cleaning the house. Taking his mind off {mc} is exactly what {he} needs right now. “Let me just find my headphones, and I’ll give you a hand with the mess.” But Mick just stands there, looking slightly constipated, making Rue roll {his} eyes in growing frustration. “What?” Mick glances out the window, then closes it, choosing privacy over airing out the room. “That woman…” “{mc},” Rue says pointedly, looking at Mick in a way that should discourage the bassist from digging any further. But of course, Mick can’t help his incurable nosiness or his overprotective streak toward Rue. It’s always been like that, yet now, more than ever, it’s starting to annoy Rue, exposing how objectively terrible {he}’s been at setting boundaries. And still is, though this time around, {mc}’s the only one Rue’s willing to let close. “That woman is trouble,” Mick declares with a grim expression that makes Rue shoot him a warning glare. {link to: "femMCmickcd", label: "I don’t want to talk about it."}

The house remains in total disarray, and Rue makes a mental note to do his share of the cleaning, but then he curses Mick yet again, bumping into two unfamiliar girls picking up trash from the corridor. Both of them giggle at his state of undress. “Um, hi,” he mutters, his head lowered, weaving between the trash bags. “Hi,” they answer almost simultaneously, before one of them, a girl with braided hair, adds, “Are you planning any more unplugged performances like last night? It’d make this boring fucking job much more fun.” “Uh, I’ll help you in a minute,” Rue calls over his shoulder, feeling his face heat up. “There’s fresh coffee in the kitchen, by the way,” the same girl offers with a smile. “And sandwiches. Though Alex wolfed down most of them.” “Thanks for the heads-up.” Rue forces a smile, knowing he won’t be able to stomach anything right now. But with his head turned, he crashes into Pam, Alex’s girlfriend, in the kitchen doorway. She bursts into laughter at Rue's expression. "What the fuck, cutie? You look like you're on a bad trip." She grabs Rue's arm with a hint of concern even though her tone remains amused. “I’m good—” “Just running away from the mother hen’s cringey lecture.” Alex butts in, catching Rue’s eye over his girlfriend’s head. “Leave him be.” "It's not like I'm messing with him," Pam snaps, though without much bite, giving Rue’s shoulder a friendly pat. Then she brushes past him, heading toward the girls. “Help’s on the way, my ladies…” Rue doesn’t register their response at all. He’s far too busy ducking behind the kitchen counter, making sure that for at least another few minutes, no one else sees him in his underwear. {link to: "rue-ending", label: "Next"}

“I see you don’t agree with me,” Mick mutters grumpily, shaking his head as though he has any right to judge. “It’s none of your business,” Rue says, folding {his} arms because the whole thing starts to feel seriously invasive and Mick just doesn’t know when to stop. [if slut === "yes"] “Then what about her fucking everything that moves?” “I can’t believe this.” Rue throws up {his} hands in helpless frustration. “Do you have a list or something?” “Not my fucking fault your girl is popular for all the wrong reasons.” “Shut up, right now.” Rue points at him, starting to seethe. “Sam—” Mick pauses to gauge whether Rue recognizes the name but is met with a clueless look. “Rina’s friend?” “Who?” “Rina? My girlfriend who almost kicked your ass at Guitar Hero?” Mick prompts with annoyance. But Rue’s always been bad at remembering faces or names, too focused on keeping {his} mind in check. Though with that many girls in Mick’s love life, it’s no wonder {he} struggles to remember their names. "Nothing? Whatever. The goth who was handing out the beer told me they once hooked up with your girl in some club’s dingy bathroom and that she's a total slu—" "I said shut the fuck up," Rue hisses, shoving Mick hard enough that he loses his balance and crashes into the desk. "What the hell is wrong with you?" “Call {mc} one more insulting name, and I’ll kick your ass,” Rue barks, feeling {his} hands clench, ready to turn on someone who’s been nothing but good to {him}. "You're delusional, man," Mick says bitterly. "You're fucking blind." "I warned you..." “Whatever.” Mick raises his hands angrily. He's fuming just like Rue and for a moment they glare at each other, until Rue finally has enough and marches out without another word. He runs downstairs, almost tripping over huge garbage bags scattered across the hallway. [continue] [if slut === "no"] “Then what about the fact that this guy’s younger brother had a drug problem. Got mixed up with the wrong crowd, a major gang, and one day…” “Stop,” Rue breathes in a strained voice. “One day, he didn’t come home. Just like a lot of other poor fuckers connected to that circle. The circle your GIRLFRIEND runs in,” Mick says, emphasizing the word. “If that guy was so well informed, he could’ve called the cops,” Rue spits, feeling the pressure building in {his} stomach and chills slowly creeping over {his} body. Saying these words makes {him} feel sick. It clashes violently with the grief {he} feels for that dead boy and every real, undeniable victim of gang violence. And yet… {he} isn’t ready to face it, not without losing some part of {his} own integrity. This part of {mc}’s life is like a thorn driven into the center of something blooming, something that could begin to rot if Rue pokes at it, if {he} gives it as much attention as {he} probably should. Mick stares at {him} as though {he} no longer recognizes {him}, clearly at a loss for words. “What?” Rue asks with a taunting edge, but {his} voice sounds thin. “You thought I’d take some random guy’s baseless assumption as proof that {mc}’s dangerous?” {he} adds, rocking from side to side, ready to bolt at any moment. “There’s nothing safe about your girl and you know it,” Mick snaps, and Rue can’t take it anymore, marching out without another word. "Rue, come on!” Mick shouts after him. “It’s for your own good!” But at least he doesn’t decide to chase Rue downstairs, where {he} almost trips over huge garbage bags scattered across the hallway. [continue] {link to: "maleMCending", label: "Next"}

“I don’t want to talk about it.” “Hear me out. It’s not just my gut feeling, okay? Or the fact that she’s obviously kind of rough around the edges. It’s more serious than that…” Rue closes {his} eyes, sighing, because {he} doesn’t want to talk about {mc}… This is the part of {his} life that belongs entirely to {him}, nobody else’s business… But Mick takes {his} behavior as surrender, an admission that there’s something difficult to discuss. “That one guy at the party told me some pretty disturbing stuff yesterday…” Rue tenses, a nasty shiver rolling down {his} spine, because of course it would have been better if {mc}'s secrets hadn’t come out at the party—or if she hadn’t come at all—even though the mere fact that she did makes Rue's knees go weak. Because it meant something… made everything irreversible. “Did you hear anything I said?” Mick barks, shooting {him} an irritated look. “Something about some guy…” “Yeah, who came to me, claiming that a fucking criminal was walking around my house, or, more precisely, heading upstairs with my guitarist.” Rue's not the best liar, but {he} knows how to evade questions. “People say a lot of weird stuff, Mick.” “Yeah,” the bassist says, then adds with a deadpan expression, “Nope. The girl has an in-your-face shady vibe. So please stop making me sound unreasonable.” Mick radiates deep concern, and that makes it so freaking difficult to be angry with him, but Rue tries anyway. “It’s one guy’s word.” “It’s really fucking convincing, Rue. Your friend’s demeanor makes the claim very difficult to dismiss.” “She’s not my friend,” Rue snaps, {his} tone fiery, slightly surprised by {his} own conviction, and Mick’s widened stare indicates Rue isn’t the only one. It forces {him} to hide {his} heated face behind {his} bangs just to regain some semblance of control over {his} expression. “Are you fucking serious?” Mick hisses. “You barely know this woman.” “Like you know a whole lot about all those girls you invite to move in after one good fuck.” “That’s fucking different!” Mick raises his voice. “I’m never serious about them.” “Well, not everyone is a dick,” Rue mutters venomously, not usually this confrontational, but Mick has {him} cornered, striking at something heavier than words Rue can usually bind into lyrics. Something that scares {him}, thrills {him}, and makes {him} finally feel alive instead of merely sleepwalking through life with music as {his} anchor. {link to: "femalemick", label: "It’s addictive, yes, but it’s also sustaining."}

“I don’t want to talk about it.” “Hear me out. It’s not just my gut feeling, okay? Or the fact that he’s obviously an asshole. It’s more serious than that…” Rue closes {his} eyes, sighing, because {he} doesn’t want to talk about {mc}… This is the part of {his} life that belongs entirely to {him}, nobody else’s business… But Mick takes {his} behavior as surrender, an admission that there’s something difficult to discuss. “That one guy at the party told me some pretty disturbing stuff yesterday…” Rue tenses, a nasty shiver rolling down {his} spine, because of course it would have been better if {mc}'s secrets hadn’t come out at the party—or if he hadn’t come at all—even though the mere fact that he did makes Rue's knees go weak. Because it meant something… made everything irreversible. “Did you hear anything I said?” Mick barks, shooting {him} an irritated look. “Something about some guy…” “Yeah, who came to me, claiming that a fucking criminal was walking around my house, or, more precisely, heading upstairs with my guitarist.” Rue's not the best liar, but {he} knows how to evade questions. “People say a lot of weird stuff, Mick.” “Yeah,” the bassist says, then adds with a deadpan expression, “Nope. The guy has an in-your-face shady vibe. So please stop making me sound unreasonable.” Mick radiates deep concern, and that makes it so freaking difficult to be angry with him, but Rue tries anyway. “It’s one guy’s word.” “It’s really fucking convincing, Rue. Your friend’s demeanor makes the claim very difficult to dismiss.” “He’s not my friend,” Rue snaps, {his} tone fiery, slightly surprised by {his} own conviction, and Mick’s widened stare indicates Rue isn’t the only one. It forces {him} to hide {his} heated face behind {his} bangs just to regain some semblance of control over {his} expression. “Are you fucking serious?” Mick hisses. “You barely know this guy.” “Like you know a whole lot about all those girls you invite to move in after one good fuck.” “That’s fucking different!” Mick raises his voice. “I’m never serious about them.” “Well, not everyone is a dick,” Rue mutters venomously, not usually this confrontational, but Mick has {him} cornered, striking at something heavier than words Rue can usually bind into lyrics. Something that scares {him}, thrills {him}, and makes {him} finally feel alive instead of merely sleepwalking through life with music as {his} anchor. {link to: "malemick", label: "It’s addictive, yes, but it’s also sustaining."}

“I see you don’t agree with me,” Mick mutters grumpily, shaking his head as though he has any right to judge. “It’s none of your business,” Rue says, folding his arms because the whole thing starts to feel seriously invasive and Mick just doesn’t know when to stop. [if slut === "yes"] “Then what about him fucking everything that moves?” “I can’t believe this.” Rue throws up his hands in helpless frustration. “Do you have a list or something?” “Not my fucking fault your guy is popular for all the wrong reasons.” “Since when do you care about gossip?” “Since my guitarist lost his head over some creep I wouldn’t trust to look after a rat.” “Seriously?” Rue gapes in disbelief. “No wonder you don’t write our lyrics.” “Geez… fuck off, that’s not the point,” Mick says in exasperation. “Sam—” He pauses to gauge whether Rue recognizes the name but is met with a clueless look. “Rina’s friend?” “Who?” “Rina? My girlfriend who almost kicked your ass at Guitar Hero?” Mick prompts with annoyance. But Rue’s always been bad at remembering faces or names, too focused on keeping his mind in check. Though with that many girls in Mick’s love life, it’s no wonder he struggles to remember their names. "Nothing? Whatever. The goth who was handing out the beer told me they once hooked up with your guy in some club’s dingy bathroom and that he's a total player. Sam kind of has a nose for that.” “People look alike,” Rue says weakly, lowering his head to avoid looking at Mick’s smug face. “Yeah, because your chosen one is that easy to mistake for someone else. I hate to say it, but he’s rather hard to miss. A few girls already asked me about him after the fifteen or so minutes he spent downstairs before the two of you unceremoniously disappeared upstairs.” “Don’t go there, man,” Rue whines, rocking from side to side, ready to bolt at any moment. “I mean… do I need to address the elephant in the room?” Mick plants his hands on his hips, one eyebrow raised, looking ridiculous. "He could’ve given you something, for fuck’s sake. An STD or… worse." “Okay, that’s enough,” Rue hisses, clenching his teeth. There are so many things wrong with Mick’s lecture that he’s not even sure which takes priority. It’s disgustingly invasive, yes, but also infuriating because Mick assumes Rue knows nothing. Besides, it’s laughably hypocritical coming from him, deeply insensitive and stereotypical—and the risk itself is simply impossible given {mc}’s regeneration. “At least tell me—” “SHUT UP!” Rue barks and marches out. [continue] [if slut === "no"] “Then what about the fact that this guy’s younger brother had a drug problem. Got mixed up with the wrong crowd, a major gang, and one day…” “Stop,” Rue breathes in a strained voice. “One day, he didn’t come home. Just like a lot of other poor fuckers connected to that circle. The circle your BOYFRIEND runs in,” Mick says, emphasizing the word. “If that guy was so well informed, he could’ve called the cops,” Rue spits, feeling the pressure building in his stomach and chills slowly creeping over his body. Saying these words makes him feel sick. It clashes violently with the grief he feels for that dead boy and every real, undeniable victim of gang violence. And yet… he isn’t ready to face it, not without losing some part of his own integrity. This part of {mc}’s life is like a thorn driven into the center of something blooming, something that could begin to rot if Rue pokes at it, if he gives it as much attention as he probably should. Mick stares at him as though he no longer recognizes him, clearly at a loss for words. “What?” Rue asks with a taunting edge, but his voice sounds thin. “You thought I’d take some random guy’s baseless assumption as proof that {mc}’s dangerous?” he adds, rocking from side to side, ready to bolt at any moment. “There’s nothing safe about your guy and you know it,” Mick snaps, and Rue can’t take it anymore, marching out without another word. [continue] “Man, come on!” Mick shouts after him. “It’s for your own good!” But at least he doesn’t decide to chase Rue downstairs, where he almost trips over huge garbage bags scattered across the hallway. {link to: "maleMCending", label: "Next"}

“Fuck,” {mc} rasps, stepping closer to Rue with a rare half-smile. “You can’t fucking wait, can you?” A sudden wave of awkwardness hits Rue as {he} averts {his} eyes, torn between wanting to go on tour and fearing that {he} might let the bond between {him} and {mc} go untended. There’s just no way {he} would choose one thing over the other. Rue lowers {his} barriers a little, just to get a brief read on {mc}’s feelings about all this, but the moment {he} does, the temptation to open {him}self completely washes over {him} in a powerful current, straining {his} self-discipline. Shit. He’ll need to work on this… rather urgently. “Are you okay?” {mc}’s concerned voice forces Rue to open {his} eyes, but {he} merely nods, smiling softly. “It’s just a headache…” {he} adds distractedly, trying to grasp the lingering hue of {mc}’s feelings about the tour. “Are you trying to read me?” “Um…” “You can just ask.” {mc} fixes Rue with an intense gaze, the gleam in his eyes matching his husky tone. “Wanna know what I think about long-distance relationships?” he adds with a chuckle, but his expression turns thoughtful. {link to: "maleMC1", label: "I’m just worried I won’t make it until you return."} {link to: "maleMC2", label: "I think we’ll be fine."} {link to: "maleMC3", label: "What better way to practice phone sex?"} {link to: "maleMC4", label: "I don’t like the prospect, but I’m happy for you."} {link to: "maleMC5", label: "I hate the thought of you being so far away from me."}

“So,” Alex hums, shoving the half-empty plate of sandwiches toward Rue, but he just shakes his head. “Had a good night?” Rue lets the question linger, biting his lip in an attempt to gather his thoughts after the confrontation with Mick, but most importantly, after the morning he spent with {mc}. “Will you think I’m lame if I tell you that it was the second-best night of my life, and both times it was because of the same person?” he finally asks, eyes fixed on the counter, tracing random patterns over it with his finger. But as Alex’s silence stretches, Rue is eventually forced to lift his gaze, meeting the drummer’s thoughtful expression. “What?” “Nothing.” Alex shrugs. “Just glad it was worth it.” “It’s…” Rue pauses, smiling gently, shaking his head, and when he glances at Alex again, there’s a ghost of a smile on his bandmate’s face. “Just remember that we don’t need any more ballads in our catalog.” “Sure,” Rue grins, then frowns. “Wait. We don’t have any ballads in our catalog.” Alex smirks, getting up. “Penny for Loise sure is a ballad.” “It’s not!” “It is. I could fall asleep during that one,” Alex mutters, stopping in the doorway. “And by the way…” Rue looks at him questioningly. “It really is fucking lame.” “Oh—” Rue reddens instantly, ignoring Alex’s playful chuckle. “Piss off!” **THE END**

“Fuck,” {mc} rasps, stepping closer to Rue with a rare half-smile. “You can’t fucking wait, can you?” A sudden wave of awkwardness hits Rue as {he} averts {his} eyes, torn between wanting to go on tour and fearing that {he} might let the bond between {him} and {mc} go untended. There’s just no way {he} would choose one thing over the other. He lowers {his} barriers a little, just to get a brief read on {mc}’s feelings about all this, but the moment {he} does, the temptation to open {him}self completely washes over {him} in a powerful current, straining {his} self-discipline. Shit. He’ll need to work on this… rather urgently. “Are you okay?” {mc}’s concerned voice forces Rue to open {his} eyes, but {he} merely nods, smiling softly. “It’s just a headache…” {he} adds distractedly, trying to grasp the lingering hue of {mc}’s feelings about the tour. “Are you trying to read me?” “Um…” “You can just ask.” {mc} fixes Rue with an intense gaze, the gleam in her eyes matching her raspy tone. “Wanna know what I think about long-distance relationships?” she adds with a chuckle, but her expression turns thoughtful. {link to: "maleMC11", label: "I’m just worried I won’t make it until you return."} {link to: "maleMC22", label: "I think we’ll be fine."} {link to: "maleMC33", label: "What better way to practice phone sex?"} {link to: "maleMC44", label: "I don’t like the prospect, but I’m happy for you."} {link to: "maleMC55", label: "I hate the thought of you being so far away from me."}

“What better way to practice phone sex?” Rue parts {his} lips but quickly lowers {his} head, hiding {his} increasingly warm face. The fact that {he}'s still flushed with embarrassment after everything they did last night is kind of irritating, but {he} can't seem to overcome {his} shyness anytime soon. "What? Nothing to say about that?" {mc} murmurs, stepping closer. "I'd say that I won't need much encouragement after seeing you all sweaty and pumped up with adrenaline." "{mc}..." "We can start small, you know," {mc} continues to torture Rue, as he draws her into a loose embrace. "With a few hot messages..." Rue swallows hard, while {his} mind is instantly flooded with intrusive thoughts and images, making {him} even more flustered, but also... aroused. Their embrace becomes more desperate. The relentless pull between them never weakening. And in the blink of an eye, they draw even closer until another breath brings their lips together. So, so slow, with that intoxicating hunger just beneath the surface. {link to: "femMCknocking", label: "Next"}

“Look.” Mick takes it down a notch, softening his approach. “I just don’t think the way this guy looks at you is healthy…” “How does he look at me?” Rue perks up, {his} eyes hungry for the answer. And despite Mick having the sensitivity of a tree stump, he does notice Rue’s burning curiosity. The mixture of disbelief and horror written all over his face is proof enough. “Like a walking red flag! Like he wants to own you, control you. The way he negotiated the deal? He’s already dictating the terms of your contract, making you forget about the whole world… He’s building a cage around you, Rue. Can’t you see it?” Mick says it all without missing a beat, looking at Rue like {he}’s someone in need of saving, like some kind of victim. It’s ridiculous and funny and annoying, unfair… but most of all, wrong, wrong, **WRONG.** {link to: "maleMCtalk", label: "Completely backward."}

“Look.” Mick takes it down a notch, softening his approach. “I just don’t think the way this woman looks at you is healthy…” “How does she look at me?” Rue perks up, {his} eyes hungry for the answer. And despite Mick having the sensitivity of a tree stump, he does notice Rue’s burning curiosity. The mixture of disbelief and horror written all over his face is proof enough. “Like a walking red flag! Like she wants to own you, control you. The way she negotiated the deal? She’s already dictating the terms of your contract, making you forget about the whole world… She has you wrapped around her little finger, Rue. Can’t you see it?” Mick says it all without missing a beat, looking at Rue like {he}’s someone in need of saving, like some kind of victim. It’s ridiculous and funny and annoying, unfair… but most of all, wrong, wrong, **WRONG.** {link to: "femMCtalkRue", label: "Completely backward."}

The beeping of {mc}’s phone interrupts them yet again, forcing {mc} to finally get up, a slightly regretful look on his face. And when the space between them inevitably expands, Rue’s eyes naturally focus on {mc}’s aura, which looks a little darker and more frayed every time he reads it, in stark contrast to the one surrounding Paul… Fear twists in {his} gut, a sharp reminder of why {he} actually prefers just to tune into {mc}'s emotions, even at the cost of {his} own mental defenses. At least that way, Rue experiences a vivid flow of sensations instead of being confronted with visible proof of a soul falling apart… “What's wrong?” The familiar tone of {mc}’s voice and the warmth of his breath prove that the worst hasn’t happened yet… that it doesn’t have to. "Nothing…” “Yeah, {baby}… that’s bullshit.” {mc} touches Rue's hand, a concerned frown settling on his face. “Is it about Paul?” “Kind of…” Rue admits, smiling sadly. “I imagine he acted like a dick.” “He was… really freaking scared.” Rue shudders at the memory. Being shoved away so violently by someone who wears {mc}'s face was disturbing enough, but not nearly as disturbing as seeing Paul’s expression twisted with fear and sensing his helplessness. Then the bleeding started… {mc} hums, lowering his eyes. {link to: "P1", label: "Paul’s always been a pussy."} {link to: "P2", label: "I feel kind of bad for him."} {link to: "P3", label: "I can’t believe that asshole got to see you half-naked."} {link to: "P4", label: "He was respectful, I hope?"}

The beeping of {mc}’s phone interrupts them yet again, forcing {mc} to finally get up, a slightly regretful look on her face. And when the space between them inevitably expands, Rue’s eyes naturally focus on {mc}’s aura, which looks a little darker and more frayed every time he reads it, in stark contrast to the one surrounding Paula… Fear twists in {his} gut, a sharp reminder of why {he} actually prefers just to tune into {mc}'s emotions, even at the cost of {his} own mental defenses. At least that way, Rue experiences a vivid flow of sensations instead of being confronted with visible proof of a soul falling apart… “What's wrong?” The familiar tone of {mc}’s voice and the warmth of her breath prove that the worst hasn’t happened yet… that it doesn’t have to. "Nothing…” “Yeah, {baby}… that’s bullshit.” {mc} touches Rue's hand, a concerned frown settling on her face. “Is it about Paula?” [continue] “Kind of…” Rue admits, smiling sadly. “I imagine she acted like a bitch.” “She was… really freaking scared.” Rue shudders at the memory. Being shoved away so violently by someone who wears {mc}'s face was disturbing enough, but not nearly as disturbing as seeing Paula’s expression twisted with fear and sensing her helplessness. Then the bleeding started… {mc} hums, lowering her eyes. {link to: "P11", label: "Paula’s always been a coward."} {link to: "P22", label: "I feel kind of bad for her."} {link to: "P33", label: "I can’t believe she got to see you half-naked."} {link to: "P44", label: "She was respectful, I hope?"}

Last time at the motel, Rue didn’t have a chance to truly take her in during such a quiet, ordinary moment. {mc} left so early, leaving behind just a tentative hope that something real might be taking shape between them. But now… it’s different. {mc} must have felt safe enough here, on the bare mattress beside Rue, to let her guard down. Or maybe she’s just a heavy sleeper, which makes Rue chuckle softly before giving in to a yawn. With one last fond look at {mc}, {he} decides to catch some more sleep. Snuggling a bit closer to the warm body beside {him}, Rue shuts {his} eyes, but all {he} manages is a shallow doze before the gentle brush of a finger along {his} Cupid’s bow draws a lazy smile to {his} face. {link to: "femMCRue", label: "What’s so amusing?"}

Last time at the motel, Rue didn’t have a chance to truly take him in during such a quiet, ordinary moment. {mc} left so early, leaving behind just a tentative hope that something real might be taking shape between them. But now… it’s different. {mc} must have felt safe enough here, on the bare mattress beside Rue, to let his guard down. Or maybe he’s just a heavy sleeper, which makes Rue chuckle softly before giving in to a yawn. With one last fond look at {mc}, {he} decides to catch some more sleep. Snuggling a bit closer to the warm body beside {him}, Rue shuts {his} eyes, but all {he} manages is a shallow doze before the gentle brush of a finger along {his} Cupid’s bow draws a lazy smile to {his} face. {link to: "maleMChot", label: "What’s so amusing?"}