Adagio was biting the pillow beneath her. She was naked and wet and hot. Her whole body was blushing, her nails scraping the sheets. "Mmmnnghhh...! Mmm...AGH! Wait wait wait, Buck...ssss....mmmnaah...!" She was groaning and shuddering. Her eyes were screwed shut as she quaked. Buck was above her, breathing softly.

He pushed, gently but firmly and Adagio yelped.

"...you okay, Adagio? Is that good? Am I hurting you?" Buck said. His concern was touching, honestly and she wanted to tap out, but she Had to endure this. Her throat was hoarse from moaning and squealing. She let the pillow go free and gasped as he pushed in deeper.

"I'm...I'm f-f-fine, Buck! Keep, keep going! It's fiiiIIIINEEEEEE...!!!" Her sentence broke into a squeal and then a muffled scream. Her leg kicked up and tapped Buck's back as he worked her. He let up briefly and reached over to wipe a tear from her eye.

"We don't have to go hard, you know, if I'm hurting you, we can-"

"SHUT UP!" Adagio screeched, glaring at him over her shoulder. "Don't you dare stop!" A command. If he truly respected her wishes, he wouldn't stop. He didn't. Adagio felt pain and pleasure shoot through her as he dug in deeper. She was trying to control her breathing, but it instead came out as ragged, desperate gasps as Buck kept going.

Despite her bravado in the moment, Adagio planted her face back into the pillows and she screamed in agony and ecstasy. He was going harder and faster, back there. Now it seemed like a challenge to see how long she could endure this. Adagio refused to be defeated, even face down with Buck behind her. He had only been down there for five minutes.

"You're really cute like this..." Buck said. Adagio drank in his emotions if only to get her mind off the overwhelming sensation. Love. Of course. But more than that, sugary affection and amusement. He didn't want to do this if it hurt her, but he liked to see her this way; squealing and quivering and breaking before him. A little notebook in the back of her head stored this for later, while the rest of her screamed curses and adulations and Buck's name.

"Fuck...ssss...mmnnaaAAH! Buck, mm! Buck, why are you so good at this!?" She squealed. Fuck. She hadn't meant to say that out loud. She tasted his pride swell. It was like a hearty, savory steak. She groaned as Buck began to go lighter and faster. Her body was bouncing, her toes curling.

"Years of practice, hun." Buck said, nonchalantly as he pressed in hard again. Adagio's back arched and she screamed.

"Who, who the FUCK made you practice this!?" Adagio said after she finished wailing. He was still going. How? How was there more?

"...you know, you asked Me to do this to you. You seem to be enjoying yourself, but if you're really hurting then we can stop, Adagio. I won't be mad, or anything." Buck said. She felt his hand wander and stroke her side. Pity. Caution. Concern. Adagio felt something tiny in her snap like a twig.

"Oh, don't you DARE patronize Me, Purple Prose!" She spat. "You are going to get IN THERE, and you are going to FINISH WHAT YOU STARTED...!" She said. Her knees were turning in.

"...Alright, you asked for it. Take a deep breath, now." Buck said. It was a brief warning, but Adagio obeyed.

And then she felt the wind knocked out of her as Buck pressed in hard and suddenly. It was like a punch. There was a loud snapping sound and Adagio went totally limp for a moment as Buck finished cracking her back.

"...you good, Adagio? I've had painful massages before, but I think you've got even me beat when it comes to knots and sore back muscles." Buck said.

Adagio had gotten all sweet on him after karaoke, and they'd gone back to her suite. She had agreed to tell Buck about her life and times, but in exchange, Buck would have to do Something for her. That something had turned out to be a full shoulder, back, and legs massage. She'd liked what he did the morning after they'd met, and she wanted him to give her the works. And so he had.

Buck had put his practice to good use, rolling and kneading and pinching and stretching Adagio's muscles. The poor thing was full of knots and stress, especially in her trapezius and especially especially in her lower back, which was basically a fucking minefield of muscle soreness. Even now, she was groaning face down in her pillows while Buck ran the heels of his palms around the sore area.

"Mmmm....thankyouthankyouthankyou..." Adagio moaned under her breath. Fucking adorable, she was.

She was also soaked down between her thighs. Buck had discovered through the course of his ministrations so far that Adagio had to be some kind of masochist, at least a little bit because instead of just screaming bloody murder, she'd been quivering and moaning and gyrating the whole time he worked her muscles. Her right arm was up, pinning her tresses of hair to the bed above her head, while the other dug into the sheets. Her back was soaked with sweat from the exertion, her pale yellow skin shining in the dim light of her bedroom. Her skin was flawless. Buck had been amazed at how smooth and plush she was as he ran his fingers along her tender back. She cooed softly in relief as he stroked her up and down, as gently as he would a kitten.

"Aaaaaaahhh....You're so sweet, Buck~." She sighed, dreamily and dumbly. Okay, good, she wasn't pissed at him for really working those knots as she asked. This wasn't a test. God, she was fucking gorgeous from the back! There was a smattering of tiny freckles on the back of her neck and on her shoulders, and she had a tan line around her neck. Man, she really liked chokers. Buck's eyes wandered helplessly and got lost in the curve of her hips and...wait, were those dimples?

"Huh. Well would you look at that..." Buck mumbled. Buck was still fully clothed, though he'd taken his plaid shirt off, leaving him in his black tank top as he saw to Adagio's needs.

"Mm? At what-ah!" Adagio squeaked. Buck had found the dimples, right above where her lower back began to properly slope down, and he found that his thumbs fit in them just about perfectly. He was grabbing where love handles would be on Adagio if she wasn't a flawless fucking marble statue of a woman, and his hands seemed Designed for the task of holding her by the waist. Adagio hissed as he pressed his thumbs in.

"ssssSSS! Tender Buck, tender...!" She simpered.

"Sorry 'bout that..." Buck said. Buck's eyes were strolling casually downward again, and his vision was eclipsed by Adagio's glorious fucking ass. He wanted to do fucking EVERYTHING to that ass. "...sorry, you're just-"

"Sweaty?" Adagio giggled.

"Fucking Gorgeous."

*SLAP*

Buck's hand came down on Adagio's asscheek with a firm and affectionate slap. Adagio yelped at his surprise attack. Buck then grabbed a handful of ass and squeezed. He licked his lips as Adagio let out a low, shaky moan into the pillow.

"Cheeky...!" She said.

"Yeah you are." Buck said.

*SLAP*

"Aah~! You stop that!" Adagio barked suddenly. "I'm a mess!"

"Yeah, that's fine, so am I." Buck said. He laid down in front of Adagio then. Smiling at her as he looked into her eyes. Usually, they were a pair of magenta gemstones that threatened to drag Buck underwater like a riptide. Right now, they were slightly delirious from the exertion. She was panting and a strand of hair had fallen onto her face, caught in the corner of her mouth. Buck reached out to tenderly tuck that strand behind her ear, then stroke her hot cheek.

"Hello, handsome." Adagio giggled, biting her lip.

"Hiya," Buck said, casually. She was the most beautiful woman in the world. "You wanna take a break? I still need to hit the low spots, but you look exhausted.

"Nooooo I want you to keep touching me all night~!" Adagio purred. She giggled again, her chest rattling. Her hand was running up and down Buck's chest.

"You sure you're okay, Adagio?" Buck said.

"Just a little love drunk, Buck." Adagio chuckled. Her hand was wandering lower.

"Is that like a real thing, with you?" Buck said. Adagio hooked her fingers in his belt and pulled him just a bit closer to her. Her hard, naked nipples pressed against his chest. Their foreheads were touching.

"It is, Buck. Emotional energy is the basis of all magic, and it's often more art than science...mm...mm...hello there, what's this...?" Adagio purred. She was poking and groping at Buck's stomach. Buck breathed in and flexed his abs, hardening his gut, and Adagio's eyes lit up as her fingers pressed in and felt his muscles.

"Go on." Buck said.

"Well, when you drink emotional energy to store in your body, if it's from an unfamiliar source, you won't have any defense against it. It's like...it's like, oh, having a mixed drink for the first time. One with rum, perhaps." She said. Her nails lightly ran up and down Buck's chest and stomach as if he were a scratching post.

"So I'm making you drunk...with my emotions?" Buck said. Adagio nodded and bit her lip harder.

"Mhm. Yooooou...you taste like...chocolate and mint and...hot spice!" She said, tittering as if she told a dirty joke in 5th grade.

"Oh my god. You are fucking ADORABLE like this!" Buck exclaimed, sitting up. His smile was like a kid in a candy store. The last time he'd smiled like this was when he'd gotten a Gamecube for Christmas. Fuckin' Smash and Sunshine and Double Dash baybee. Best Christmas/Birthday combo ever. Focus, man, look at her! Adagio had taken that lock of hair back and was rubbing it against her lips and looking at Buck with an almost shy glint in her eyes. She had pulled the cover over her. She'd never struck Buck as the modest type. "Uh, do you need water? Are you gonna be okay? ...Are you gonna get mad about this later?"

"Yes, yes, and ohhh my yes." Adagio said. Buck rose to get her some water. Adagio grabbed his belt again and pulled him back down to the bed with a light thumping noise. "No! You stay, Buck. Stay here with me~!" She said, in a sing-songy voice.

"Uh, how am I supposed to get you a drink if you're holdin' onto my pants?"

"Staaaaaay!!!" Adagio pouted. She grabbed his arm and pressed her breasts against it, bouncing them for emphasis.

"Alright, alright, I'm not going anywhere, hun." He said. He wanted to act cross, but she was so cute, and he could not stop smiling right now. Adagio kissed his shoulder and nuzzled her nose against it. Her fingers slid against his bicep slowly, and she cooed and leaned down to nibble on it.

"Mm, mmmhmhmm! Big strong muscles...look at these big tough muscles, Buck! Mmmm..." She was planting sweet little kisses on his bicep.

"You're into muscles, Adagio?"

"I'm into you, Buck!" She squealed, and she hopped up. Her hair smacked him in the face as she plopped into his lap, and she had to pull it apart like a curtain to look up at him. She looked so small like this. He watched her study his face, her eyes filling with glee as her cheeks rose and a big grin split her face. She hugged herself against him and rubbed her cheek against his chest. "Hehehehee! Big strong Buck...big strong Buck~!" She sang.

"Oookay, not at all what I was expecting out of you tonight." Buck said. Adagio pressed her nose into Buck's chest hair and too a looooong deep sniff. Her whole body shook as she inhaled his scent. Buck could feel her blazing down below against his lap. Buck just ran his fingers through her curly orange hair and wondered how she kept it so wavy and silky when his was a nappy mess at least half the time. She cooed softly against him.

"Ooooooohhhh...keep doing that, Buck...slower...please?" She said. She looked up at him, planted her chin a bit painfully against his chest, and stared into his eyes with a little smile on her face. Buck slowly dragged his fingers through her hair. "Buck...?" Adagio said, blinking.

"Yeah, hun?" Buck said, smiling.

"Will you kiss me, Buck? Kiss me like you did back at the diner? You kiss like a bunch of little guppies, Buck! So sweet and needy...do you like needy girls Buck? Do you like me? Will you kiss me like before, Buck, pretty please?" Adagio said. Her fingers drummed against his chest as she rambled. Buck grinned. He would have a little fun with this.

"Okay, sure I can. But back up just a little bit. I wanna make it special, 'kay?" Buck said. Adagio scrambled out of his lap, sat criss-cross applesauce, and nodded frantically, sending another couple of locks into her face. Buck reached out and took Adagio's hand.

"Okay, hold still now, alright?" Buck said. He crept close to Adagio and waved the hair out of her face. She nipped at his thumb playfully. "Come here..." Buck said, softly. Adagio leaned in. There was a big, goofy grin on her face, and she was practically shaking. Buck cupped her chin, tilted her head away, and then took a moment.

He thought about the look on Adagio's face as she gazed out the window at Sugar Cube Corner. Her fidgeting hands when she was on the bench. Her eyes when he sang to her just a little bit ago. Her uncontrollable laugh in the hallway of this very hotel. Buck thought of the tiny little glimmers of Adagio that he was coming to adore.

And then, with all the tenderness he could muster, Buck planted a sickly sweet kiss on Adagio's cheek. She recoiled as if she'd just had an electrical shock, and she giggled and shut her eyes. Then she leaned her chin toward him again, sucking her lips in to try and hold her laughter. Again Buck pecked her on the cheek, and she shook and she squealed and came in for more. Buck put an arm around her waist and started showering Adagio's cheeks and forehead and chin with sweet kisses. Every one of them seemed to push her down onto her back, but her grip on Buck was strong so she took him with her.

He was looming just above her, watching his emotions tickle her, her hands on her rosy cheeks, her thighs rubbing together, her eyes shut. She wasn't just adorable, she was fucking precious.

"Buck..." Adagio purred softly. Her hands came up and laced themselves at the back of Buck's neck. Her leg came up and her knee started to prod him gently. "Buck...will...will you fuck me like this, Buck? Pretty pleeeeease, Buck?" Adagio said. She was trying to pull him in for one of her vicious, thirsty kisses. Buck didn't have to think about this. He gave her a remorseful smile.

"No hun, I won't." He said. He patted her head.

Adagio looked like she was about to break into a schoolyard tantrum. "Aaaaawwwww! But, but, but, why not Buck!?" She said, frantically. Buck scritched her chin and she moaned and closed her eyes.

"Adagio, you're not yourself right now. You said it yourself; you're intoxicated. I'm not going to take advantage of you like this." Adagio's little hand reached up and moved Buck's to her cheek. She hummed softly and nodded. "If you want me to fuck you like this, you gotta ask me when you're sober, okay?" Buck said, slowly.

"Mmhm..." Adagio said. She seemed a bit lost in thought. She was nibbling on Buck's thumb.

"I think I need to get you some water and leave you alone in here for a bit so you can collect yourself, okay?"

"Mmmmnnnn...." Adagio moaned around Buck's thumb. She was suckling on it, rolling her tongue around it.

"...stop that, hun. I'm gonna go get you that water. Will you say here for me? It would be a big help."

"Okaaaay!" Adagio said, cheerfully. Buck's thumb escaped her mouth with a wet pop, and he wiped it on his jeans as he got up.

"There's a good girl." Buck patted Adagio on the head and she nuzzled up into it. Buck turned and tried to make sure she didn't see how hard he was.

"Buck...!" Adagio said, urgently. When Buck turned, she was reaching out to him from the bed. She was covering herself with the sheets again, and her beckoning hand pulled back to twirl one of her bangs around her finger. "Buck...I like you, Buck...! I like you a lot, okay!?" She said.

"I know you do, Adagio. I know." Buck said. He thought he might cry as he shut the door.

Buck ended up leaving the glass of water in front of the door. He sat on the couch and drank his own glass while he waited. After a bit, he heard the latch click and the very soft whine of the hinges, then a quick little slam. He looked over his shoulder from where he was sitting on the couch and saw that the glass was gone, and he smiled and laid his head back. Let her come down. Check on her in an hour or so.

"It couldn't hurt to take a little nap, right?" Buck set a little alarm on his phone, then closed his eyes.

Adagio wasn't in her bed, anymore. She had left a trail of pillows and velvet blankets in her wake, leading into her bathroom. She hadn't run the water. She just curled up in the tub and hugged a pillow to her chest. Buck had just rested his head on it. It smelled like his cologne and his sweat and some kind of light charcoal. Buck's smell. Adagio took another deep sniff of it, and sobbed, softly.

She was coming down, truly.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go. This was turning into one of the strangest, most emotionally charged weeks of her life, and at no point did she think that maybe she wasn't ready for this. It had been so long since she'd been on a date--an actual date and not an ambush. He was just a man, so why was this so hard? She was angry at herself for getting caught lacking, and she was angry at Buck for being so patient and sweet and she was angry at the diner for making for such an excellent stage and she was angry at Buck for being fun, and a good dancer, and...this was all his fault!

"NAHH!" Adagio shrieked and hurled the pillow away from her. It sailed out through the bathroom door and landed somewhere unimportant with barely a sound. She hugged herself tightly and cried against the wall of the tub, her shoulders shaking. She prayed that Buck didn't hear her in the living room.

He could not see her like this.

Never, ever.

She was pathetic. She had been suckling off his emotional energy like a starving kitten and he'd taken it in stride and given her water and privacy. He had complimented her. He was so warm and her cheeks hurt from smiling and laughing with him and Oh Gods, she couldn't do this, she couldn't do this!
The plan, what was the plan? What was the play? He was sweet, wasn't he? He would probably play it off so as not to embarrass her, the sanctimonious prick. Tell her it's not a big deal if she brought it up. Did he forget in the space of the date that she could kill him by looking at him? Was he so foolish as to think that she would just fall in line and swoon and fawn over him because of a decent song and a good dance? Were her standards truly so low that she was considering deviating from her plan to groom him into the perfect magical battery? What would she do instead?

Buck was right, in a way. Adagio wasn't herself at the moment. She took her breath back. She sat still.

Adagio's thoughts began to race. She started turning everything over in her head to get at all the angles.

If she tried to cast a spell on Buck and it failed, then he would run and call the Rainbooms down to slay her.

If she cast a spell on Buck and it succeeded, then his friends and that little slag Starlight would call the Rainbooms down regardless.

If she cast a spell on Buck and it succeeded but she hid him here, his sudden disappearance would tip off his friends that something was wrong.

Killing Buck was out of the question. Killing anyone was out of the question, really. A shame.

So she couldn't get him ensorcelled, and she couldn't remove him from the equation...

Adagio sat up.

She had to limit her exposure, build up a resistance, learn to process his emotional energy...for that, she'd have to get used to the taste, and to do that...she would have to understand his emotional responses, his psychology, his baggage.

She had to master Buck inside and out. Make him vulnerable and learn everything she could about him.

Otherwise, she could never use him properly.

"What does that mean?" She mumbled.

I have to ask him out on another date in a week or so...but still, visit him and communicate with him...I need to understand him and adapt to his emotional energy. I need to dance around him, be cautious and careful, keep him at arms' length because if I keep letting him close, he'll smother me in magical energy over and over again. Adagio thought.

She had risen from the bathtub, she was pacing the floor.

Conclusion?

"Lean into it. Mean girl act, hot and cold. Space your time out, set him up, figure him out and you can break him."

She mumbled the words as she washed her face. Adagio was always the best at using men, even if Sonata was better at nabbing them.

"Control the pace. Ask questions. Find his flaws, foibles, fetishes." She said, almost robotically. She was before her mirror now, her detangler brush dragging slowly through her hair.

Adagio put on her pyjamas. Her armor. "Give him just enough that he keeps coming back. Use what he gives against him. Understand him. Then wear him down." She said. Was she commanding herself or simply giving advice? It didn't matter. Adagio smiled at her ravishing reflection.
Her eyes glowed red for just a second as she finally remembered who Adagio Dazzle IS.

She was going to conquer him.

Buck couldn't remember the last time he dreamed. His sleep for the last few years had been fitful and empty. Some nights he would simply close his eyes and try desperately to catch some rest while his brain automatically sorted through every mistake he ever made. He thought in those times that this was the real difference between being depressed and being burnt out.

He would forget this lesson the following day, of course, as he shuffled out of bed, his eyes stinging, back sore. I'm just in a slump, he'd say. Things are going to get better, he'd say to himself. And then he'd throw back a whole-ass iced coffee and shuffle off to be extremely pleasant and patient to customers for the majority of his daylight hours.

Buck had almost forgotten what it was like to sleep for the sake of rest. He was blown out like a tire; the emotional labor and thrills of just being in Adagio's presence made him feel like his brain had been running a marathon.
But fuck, his Dad had always said the best sleep came after really busting your ass, and he was right. Buck couldn't keep his eyes open.

So, he floated in that dreamless space and he dozed and he snorted, his head back on the couch.

It was cold in Adagio's suite, sitting on this couch felt like lounging in a swimming pool. As he let himself drift, his anxiety reached out and pinched at him through the haze. She's insane, and you're a fucking idiot for going through with this. She's going to kill you, suck your soul out through your dick, and she is going to kill you, you fucking clown. Think, for one moment about what you're doing. Mom was right about bad girls; you just can't fucking help yourself, can you? Buck thought then that Adagio fucking Dazzle was obviously fucking more than a C-grade succubus. Adagio fucking Dazzle is the most incredible thing to ever enter his life. He didn't like being this vulnerable around her.

She was trouble, fucking clearly, but she was more than teeth and menace; she had a beating heart. She looked so fragile like that, how she was in the bedroom. He'd tugged on her mask just a little bit, and he'd fallen seven fucking stories into a part of her that he could tell she wanted to hide.

Because Buck knew that Adagio Dazzle was a bad bitch. The world knew. But even bad bitches needed a break every now and again. Buck wondered which version of Adagio was more 'real.' The disney villain that had been crooning at him at the beginning of the night, or the love-starved kitten that had been clinging to him just now? He wasn't sure.

What he did know is that he wanted to see more. Needed to.

And then suddenly Buck was falling. In that dark and dreamless place, his heart skipped a beat as his consciousness dropped into freefall, his body shuddering him out of his well-earned rest. It was as if an icy hand had reached up and grabbed a hold of his neck, hauling him out of sleep and tossing him on the deck of a ship. Buck jumped and held his hands up in defense.

"Buck?" And then he looked past his shaking hands and saw her. She was leaning over him, wearing those lavender pyjamas with the cute little goldfish on them. Her magenta eyes were wide with concern. She was reaching out to him.
Had she touched him?

"...oh man, sorry if I startled you there. I was having a nap."

"Oh, did I interrupt a dream?"

"No...more like a dream just interrupted my sleep." He said, smiling and yawning. He had hesitated there. He wasn't sure how corny he was allowed to be around her.

"How do you do that?" Adagio said, snorting out a little chuckle.

"Whatcha mean?"

"How do you just have one-liners like that ready to toss, even in your sleep?"

"Adagio."

"Yes, Buck?"

"Have you seen you? I could do this all day." Buck said. He sat up and stretched. Adagio smiled and crossed her arms. Okay, good, Buck thought. Corny was good.

"Oh, you flirt." Adagio said. She sat down on the couch, about a cushion away from Buck. Compared to how she was on her bed, the distance felt like miles. Had he upset her? Shit. What did you do, Buck?

"Oh, I'm the flirt now? Were you hearing yourself in there?" Buck's laugh died after taking a few paces out of his mouth. It looked around and realized it had run into a minefield. Adagio was silent for a bit.

"Yes, That...well, that's what happens when you go and spoil me, Buck." She was flirting, right? Why did that sound like a warning?

"Spoil you?"

"Yes! Spoil me! You spoiled me tonight, and I melted into a little puddle of giggles and kisses, alright!?" Adagio said, her hands reaching out to frame the words in front of her.

"Ah...well I liked it."

"Oh, I bet you did, Buck."

"You were precious like that!"

"Stop right there, Buck. Not another step closer." Buck hadn't moved, and somehow the space between himself and Adagio seemed to be lengthening. "I...appreciated your tact and care when you realized I was inebriated."

"Oh, shit, well, look, it happens to the best of us." Buck said. Adagio raised an eyebrow. Overdoing it and getting too too drunk, ya know? That's alright."

"It is not alright."

"It happens to everyone!"

"You know that I'm pretty far removed from being 'everyone', Buck."

"Okay, well I'm sorry. I didn't know that I could get you drunk just by being sweet on you. I'll be more careful...?" Buck said. He wasn't sure how he could stop himself from being sweet on Adagio. Fuck, he wanted to hold her right now.

"No, you stop that over there! I can taste you pining."

"What."

"Ah, right, I never explained."

"Explained what?"

"Don't worry about that. Would you be a dear and go pick us a bottle from the wine rack?" Adagio snapped, waving her hand at Buck. Buck could feel the bags under his eyes getting heavier. She was reminding him a little bit too much of his past. Buck closed his eyes for a moment, frowned, and then got up and went to the kitchen. His eyes trailed along the floor. This was familiar.

Adagio examined her nails nonchalantly, taking a peek at Buck's swiveling ass as he loped over to the kitchen. She turned away as he looked at her over his shoulder.

"How 'bout chardonnay?" He said, glasses clinking in his hand. What had that been, just now? For just a moment, Buck's feelings tasted like licking the side of an anvil. Something heavy and shameful and tired had settled over his shoulders, and Adagio could smell his exhaustion, though he hid it well. Just what in the world was bouncing around in that head of his?

"Adagio?"

"Yes, Buck?" She said, blinking.

"Chardonnay?" He held up a bottle.

"Yes, that sounds lovely." And with that, a cork popped behind her, and Buck came back around with a pair of glasses. One was a bit more filled than the other. Adagio snatched it from his hand and gave him a sheepish smile.

"Buck..." Adagio said, slowly after a long sip. Then she nearly wretched as a spear of sadness tore into her tongue. Buck was looking away from her, down the hall. He was standing, a hand in his pocket and he was giving off such a thick haze of melancholy that it made Adagio shudder as if she'd just swallowed half a lemon.

"Here it comes..." Buck said under his breath. He probably thought she couldn't hear him. Ah. So he'd had this talk before.

"Buck, it's been wonderful, these last few days with you."

"Uh, you tried to kill me, Adagio. And then you showed up at my work to paw me around, and then you eye-fucked me at karaoke."

"Yes, and besides the chase, you enjoyed every moment of it." Adagio said. She punctuated her claim with a sip, catching Buck in her stare. He looked at her like a kicked puppy for a moment, then smiled a thin and patient smile.

"Yeah, that's fair." Buck said. He sat down on the couch, further away than he was before. He was staring at one of the bookshelves. He tasted like he was trying to disappear.

"And that was all lovely, but you should know that the accounting position I took is full time, and I simply won't have as much time for you in the week after tonight." She said it in her old receptionist's voice. It came out cold.

"Uh-huh. Yeah, you already know my schedule."

"And personally, I think that's good. If I let you hang off me and shower me with sickly sweet affection all day, I'd never get anything done."

"...Are you saying you want me to like you less?"

"I'm saying that your affections are overwhelming me, and I need space, Buck." Adagio said. The way he clenched his fists and closed his eyes, you would think he was having a migraine. His sorrow turned to stale, salty old frustration in an instant. Of course, of course. The poor little puppy had been here before. How many women had turned him away because he was "too nice" she wondered? That was a shitty old ailment that plenty of men liked to wail about, but it wasn't this exactly. The man was just open and sweet, and Adagio hadn't been ready.

She was being diplomatic, but as Buck turned to her, the look on his face showed her that all the nuance was flying over his head. He thought...oh dear.

"So you want me to leave. This is the part where you tell me I'm a real great guy and all, but I'm way too on all the time, and you just want to keep your options open." Buck said as if reciting a receipt. Poor thing.

"That's not what I'm saying at all, Buck. Come here and sit with me. Please." Adagio said, patting the space next to her on the couch. Buck looked toward the door for a moment, then his shoulders rose and he scooched over next to Adagio.

"You said you're not afraid of me, right Buck?" Adagio said, low and tender. He still wasn't looking at her.

"Yeah." He said. He twitched as Adagio's fingers lightly caressed the back of his hand. She leaned close to his ear.

"Then come closer, Buck..." She purred. She watched and tasted the sweet-spicy heat spread across his cheeks. Good boy. He could be trained, she thought as he looked at her and sat up, scooching and leaning closer. A wry smile had snuck onto his face. Adagio took his hand in both of hers and laid her head on his shoulder. He was smoldering now. So warm.

"I don't want you to leave, Buck."

"You don't?" No, what she wanted was to sit in his lap and spend the rest of the evening sampling and tasting and teasing him until he melted away like a well-appreciated popsicle.

"No, Buck." Adagio said, softly. She squeezed his hand. "I want you, Buck. Is that not clear?" She traced a finger up his arm and sighed softly. She tasted a little spike of peppermint in him. A dash of sudden exuberance. Had his heart just skipped a beat?

She understood. Wanting to be wanted, by the right person. It was such a specific feeling, one that everyone; even homewreckers like she herself felt. Adagio could feel it in him. He had gotten her love drunk, but only because he'd been starving for so long. For this exact flavor that only she could bring. Wait. What's that?

"Don't you want me, Buck?" She said, reaching up and turning his face toward her.

Adagio almost recoiled. There were tiny, sparkling tears in the corners of Buck's golden eyes. She was overwhelming him. Somewhere far away inside her, she felt guilty for making the man cry. But then, if she was going to conquer him, it would have to be give and take. This was one small gap in his defenses that she could slither through.

"I wanna know you, Adagio." He said, lifting her hands and slowly kissing the knuckles, one by one. She felt his love reaching out. She felt a saccharine giggle rising in her throat, and she strangled it in the crib.

"Ah, right, you asked about my story, didn't you? Are you sure you want to hear it? Like any life story, it's strange and confusing and full of little pornographic details." Adagio said, smirking.

"...yeah, well, so are you, and yet here I am." Buck said. Adagio couldn't help but cackle at that.

"Hah! Alright then, how about a little quid pro quo, then? My story is especially long, and likely won't fit into an evening alone. So...we can meet and I can tell you the tale in pieces and you in turn can tell me about yourself. Does that sound fair?"

"You want to know about my life?" Buck said, incredulously.

"Yes I do, as a matter of fact." Adagio said.

"I mean...there isn't--well there's stories of course, but I'm not that-"

"I know you're a wordsmith, Buck. A bard. You've been slinging sweet little adulations at me since we met." Adagio said. One of her hands let go of Buck's and surreptitiously slid its fingertips along the curve of his thigh.

"Oh man, I uh...I don't know about all that." Buck said. Sugary bashfulness. A chocolate shell around a shocking, decadent raspberry sorbet. Adagio bit her lip. This was more like it. She squeezed his thigh, then slid back into his lap.

"You're a writer, are you not?" She said. He was trying to run from her gaze, but he was backed into a corner. Gods, she loved watching him squirm. Her fingers traced up his stomach and to his chin. She would not let him look away.

"...yeah..." Buck said. Adagio pursed her lips as they crept closer to his.

"Well, I'm certain that you can tell stories as well as you kiss, Buck~." She said. Her nails scratched deftly at the sides of his neck. They trailed along his trapezius, feather-light, then his collarbone in a torturously slow trek. She felt him awaken instantly, hot and hard between her thighs.

Oh yes. It was abundantly clear to Adagio that Buck wanted--NEEDED desperately to be handled with care by a confident woman. He was panting softly under her touches.

"I uh, well I'm unproven, you know, never published, or anything like-" Adagio grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him closer, her eyes ripping into him.

"Are you calling me a liar?" She hissed. She didn't let him argue. She pounced. Her kiss was brutal and greedy and possessive. Adagio's eyes rolled back for a moment as Buck's sugary love and boiling lust flooded into her, then she pulled away swiftly.

Buck was breathless, breathing hard.

Adagio fixed him with an evil grin, then she leaned in and planted a tender little peck on his lips, held him there for a moment, then tapped his lips with her tongue and sat back in his lap. She studied his expression. She sipped at his emotions. He was scalding now, bubbling over with lust.

"Woman, if you keep coming at me like this, I'm going to turn you every way but loose." He growled. Adagio gasped as his hands grabbed and groped at her ass. Adagio kissed his forehead, then made to kiss him again before quickly hopping off his lap.

"Later. Right now, I want you to tell me a story. So start." Adagio said. She leaned forward and poured another two glasses, then passed one to Buck. He didn't taste disappointed. He tasted patient and embarrassed and thirsty. She watched Buck take a sip, then lift his head to stare at the ceiling.

"Well...it's a long story."

Purple Prose was born on the winter solstice at the New Horseleans Charity Hospital in the Hayseed Swamp region. In the time since, he would generally say this was a bad move because much of everything that came after was just a little cursed.

Buck's early years were filled with little misfortunes, which taken on their own by a child would amount to about nothing, but even a pile of pebbles can crush bones when it gets big enough. In retrospect, Buck, who had always thought of himself as being chronically unlucky was actually pretty damn lucky after all.

Lucky to be alive.

First, it was the asthma, he said, then the dust allergy, and then a shockingly high number of instances when his young life was put in danger. Buck joked that he had been hit by just about everything that could swing in the Hayseed region by the time he turned twelve.

This included but was not limited to;
One opening door to the face on the last day of daycare. That is to say, it became the last day of daycare; his Mother had insisted.
A ceiling fan that his father had accidentally tossed him up into at age 2.
Three baseballs in the span of ten minutes at age 3. He was never good at sports, but he sure did try.
Half the contents of a bookshelf in his mother's study at age 4. He wanted to see what was on the top shelf, so he'd started climbing it. He hadn't cried. He loved books, and he was more worried about their spines than his ankle which had had to be splinted.
The stubby little fists of four different children by 6 years old. He was sensitive, and a crybaby, so he was picked on. He'd hurt them much worse.
The ceiling fan again, but this time because it fell from the ceiling at 7 years old.
A literal fucking alligator during a fishing trip, which smacked him accidentally with its tail at 8. He'd also taken a couple of fish hooks in the back during that trip. He never really got the cast right, but he loved loved loved the taste of catfish.
A falling microphone stand at 9. He had really enjoyed learning to sing, but he had a natural stage presence that to the layman looked like a lot of flailing about and occasionally smacking into equipment.
Another ceiling fan at the local hardware store, entirely unrelated to the previous one but somehow the same model at 10.
His own head against his desk later that year, during homework. A calamitous sound from the other room apparently because his sister ran into the room to check and started screaming when she saw he was bleeding.

That had ended up being a whole production, Buck remembered. His Mother had lifted him, even at ten years old, and had started running in the direction of the hospital before his father had gotten them all into the car.

The pediatrician was ready to diagnose it as just an unlucky fall, but when Buck was asked what happened, he'd explained with the kind of glibness that only a 6th grader can muster that he didn't want to do his multiplication tables because they wouldn't stay in his head. Buck didn't understand why this was a big deal. He had cried at Neverending Story and Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory and he had been terrified of Carrie. He had wept, WEPT, for days at the last scene of the first Pokemon Movie.

But taking hits? That was normal. He had tried to use the hits to get out of something because when he got hit, he'd usually be brought somewhere else, and his parents would stop and pay attention to him.

Buck hated math, and even now, dragging his feet toward thirty, abstract numbers in any configuration above a 9th-grade level would confound him.

And to this very day, he had never managed to memorize the multiplication tables.

Buck blinked and his head snapped forward. He hadn't meant to say that. He looked down at Adagio, who was lightly running her fingers along his thigh. She was staring at him, the pupils set in her normally sharp eyes having dilated out to resemble an adorable kitten having an existential crisis. He had her undivided attention.

"That's a really embarrassing thing to admit...but it's true." Buck said. He was searching for something in Adagio's face, but he kept wandering in awe among the gorgeous landmarks, getting lost.

"Buck, there's nothing wrong with recognizing your limitations." Adagio said, blinking slowly.

"Well, that's the problem. My Mom didn't see a limitation."

Buck's father had to leave, begrudgingly, on an expedition, leaving little Buck with bandages around his head to sit out a few days of school in recovery. A thought had been floated to Buck's mother in the emergency room, which she had vehemently denied, and so through those days, after she had finished her work, she would come into Buck's room before bed and watch cartoons with him, and tell him that nothing is wrong with him and that he was brilliant, and that he just needs a proper tutor.

Buck spent those days off happily inhaling books from his mother's massive collection, drawing and playing video games, and not doing math. He had been told that harming himself wasn't a good thing to do, because it made his family worry, and he had accepted that.

His sister treated him no different than before. They sat and watched their cooking shows and they laughed and it was fine. Buck didn't know or think anything was wrong with him. No one told him anything was different about him.
But there was.

And yet his parents called him a genius and he was in a couple of gifted classes and despite his bruises, he was still curious and happy and odd and that was fine. His mother would force him to practice basic math on weekends, something he despised far more than taking his medicine for the day.

Little Buck was a ball of energy, always ready to run off and climb anything he could scramble up to see the view from the top. He spoke in precocious little observations and didn't seem to have any filter separating the literary works he constantly had in his hand.

This had gotten him in trouble once or twice, like when he asked about why the bible didn't have anything to say about Dante's Inferno, and why was it that there was such a difference between Disney's Hercules and the Heracles he had read about, but this was all fine and well so long as his teachers were patient with him. Not all of them were, of course.

At one point in 6th-grade english, Buck had spent the better part of a book report talking about how the movie version of Wizard of Oz didn't really resemble the books, but Return to Oz was spot on even though it was really scary, and really if you looked at it hard, The Wiz was probably a better adaptation than the old movie at least because it was scarier to see this stuff in person and on stage and and and and then the teacher, who had been tapping his watch at Buck for the last ten minutes slapped his hand on the desk and grumbled at him to get to the point, there were other students waiting to talk.

Buck had simply set his paper down on the man's desk, sat in his seat, and refused to say anything to anyone for the remainder of the school day. His mother had said some low, terse words to the principal after being called in, and Buck had to have a careful talk about the structure of standardized education which he wouldn't understand in retrospect until he was in high school.

Buck shone brightest in the arts. Because his attention span for anything besides entertainment or expression was similar in length to a gnat curled up in a ball, he adored being able to bounce between subject matter and techniques and art appreciation. He loved drawing of course, but in each moment he spent inside the studio classroom, he found new loves in different mediums and genres, and ideas. Buck was all ideas and questions and crushes.

It was funny, every teacher outside of art tended to look at Buck as an irritating little busybody, but as soon as he made it to his art class he could sit for hours and hold a conversation while painting or sculpting or whatever it was that day. If it was interesting, it held his attention indefinitely. If it was boring, he was unable to even get started on it.

Some teachers called Buck a little visionary, and Buck loved bringing good grades home so his parents would praise him, but it was always an uphill battle. One can't fill a report card with Art alone, after all.

None of that mattered to Buck, at the end of the day. All the child wanted to do was run and jump and explore and read and draw and write and ask question after question after question. While his sister was a sweet and patient, convenient child, Buck was bouncing off the walls. He seemed to all adults involved to be one of those kids that would grow up into a trailblazer; the kind that had more trophies on the shelf than just the participation ones.

And New Horseleans was the exact right place for a child like Buck to explore, with supervision. After all, the city was a dark, haunted place fueled by alcohol and prayers, and tourist money. It was also a grand point of congregation for artists and naturalists and occult investigators and yet more kinds of visionaries and scholars. It was a place of jocularity and generosity and festivals and wailing brass instruments and loud drums. A world of strange magic and wonders both natural and seemingly supernatural. And every kind of person and flavor in the world. A melting pot of art and culture. Buck's home.

Looking back, Buck thought of it as a sweet dream; his childhood. Adagio was right; the further away you got from those memories, the more ethereal they became. However, he would always remember the next part. He couldn't help it.

Back in the present, Buck pulled himself out of those happy memories again. He saw that he'd drained his glass of chardonnay at some point, or maybe Adagio had. Adagio for her part had adjusted at some point to sit with her legs up and across Buck's lap, reclining against the armrest of the couch.

"It sounds like you were absolutely precious, Buck." She said. Her expression was not unlike someone who had just read a very embarrassing Tinder profile; she was in a weird middle space between curiosity and laughter.

"...are you making fun of me? I was the problem child, even though I tried to be good. Shit, man, my parents had no end of grief with me around." Buck said. It wasn't anger, really.

"I doubt that. From what I hear, human parents are meant to love their children even if they like to climb trees and hate math." Adagio said, smiling.

"Am I boring you? You can tell me if I am."

"Buck, relax. I'm having fun." Adagio said. She poured the remainder of the fizzy booze in her glass into Buck's, then topped hers off with the rest of the bottle. "Has anyone ever told you, you get the strangest look when you talk about your childhood? You look like a veteran who's seen something truly monstrous, even though you're talking about treasured memories."

"Well, uh, the thing about looking back is that every time you do it, you see the past in a different sorta way."

"Oh? Is that what it's like for those that don't record their own memoirs?"

"...Do you really not feel any different when you remember your past? Doesn't your opinion change on the important bits, the further you go? You've been going for a while, you have to have changed your mind at some point." Buck said it slowly, stopping every few moments to think. It felt weird to conjugate about these things in front of someone else. But then, Buck never really liked talking about his past. Too much heartache.

"Hm...hm, well, I like to think my vision has a bit more clarity than the average human, Buck. But I'll explain the how later. Right now, we're talking about you. You can continue."

Buck looked down at his hands. He hadn't even noticed them reaching down to run along Adagio's gently curving calves. Her pyjamas were cashmere soft.

Buck reached over and drained his entire glass of chardonnay.

"That oughta make this a little easier." He said. He saw Adagio tilt her head.

He closed his eyes.

The scary thing about storms is that you always know when they're coming. Tropical storms were a normal part of summer life in the Hayseed Swamp Region, and so New Horseleans was constantly braced for the hurricanes that would come barreling up the coast. Storms had always made Buck comfortable as a child. The rain pattering on the window and the rumbling of thunder was like a shot of melatonin to the brain for him. So when they got tape-up-y'alls-windows bad, he was often excited to sit by the window and watch the storm thrashing the world outside.

The hurricane forming out in the gulf was promising to be the storm of the century, and the household was of two minds. Buck's mother was adamant that they evacuate. Think of the children. Buck doesn't even know how to swim, yet, what if it's a disaster out here?

Buck's father was sure that whatever happened, they would make it through as a family. All of their
possessions were here, and while he'd like to evacuate, it would take a couple of days to move everything into public storage. He wasn't against getting out of dodge, but he wouldn't let this destroy their home. Buck's sister was simply scared of what might happen. Buck was scared too, but being next to his Dad made him feel much better. Buck wanted to stay with his Dad.

Buck's mother made his father swear that he would protect their son, no matter what it took. His father swore up and down of course, that Buck would be kept safe. He said that the house would be here when they got back.

Buck felt unnerved as he waved to his mother and sister driving away. His father patted his head, saying that it would be okay.
The storm was fierce already, but as Buck and his father spent nights fortifying the house and putting things in tupperware containers, Buck could hear it getting even worse. The windows rattled as he fell asleep. The rain was all around him, but he trusted the rain. It had always been soothing and cool before. His sleep was fitful, with him tossing and turning before finally settling belly down with one arm dangling off the bed.

Buck woke the next morning. His arm was half-submerged in water. So was his bedroom. The whole world was wrong.
The water smelled foul and the summer heat was in his room and his mattress was wet and squishy and he started to scream. He heard a splashing sound somewhere else in the house and the sound of his father barking for him, saying he was coming and everything was wrong.

His father came for him through the waist-high water and Buck could hear a wet hissing sound like a tub draining and his father was telling him they had to go, the water was coming up through the floorboards and it's going to be okay buddy just get on my shoulders and it's going to be okay. Something sounded like screaming outside.

Buck's father had carried him up to the attic where there was a hatch to the roof, and this was the moment that Buck would remember until the end of his life. This was the moment when his childhood came to a screeching halt.

What Buck remembered sticking out to him first was the noise. Normally the world after a storm was a quiet place with little more than the whispering shuffle of wet leaves. As Buck climbed out onto the roof of his home, he heard a wail. He'd later describe it as a sound like wolves screaming. The high winds in the wake of the storm were surging through the telephone wires in front of Buck's home, and the result was a horrific keening howl that shook his eardrums.

Then Buck looked around, and he was suddenly very sick. Buck's entire childhood world was halfway underwater. Everywhere as far as he could see was water. Water up past windows and car doors and street signs. The sky was grey and the world was wrong and then Buck smelled it.

It was a stench like low tide at a garbage dump. It was salty and disgusting and rotten and humid. Buck would later say it smelled like wet death.

And then Buck looked again and he saw them.

There were bodies floating in the streets. Tens of them across the street and down the block and around the corner.

His neighbors. And Buck had gone back to retching and crying and gasping at the same time. His legs buckled and then his father was holding him and rocking him and saying he was sorry.

There is nothing in the world that can prepare a 12-year-old to see their world destroyed before their very eyes.

Escaping was easier than expected. Buck's dad had a flatboat in the backyard for fishing, and it was easy to float it over to the roof. Buck's dad had spent most of the day finding things that were undamaged enough to salvage and light enough to bring with them. He told Buck that they were going to ride out and find uncle Cattail and they would be okay,
maybe even get some fishing in.

Buck's dad had prioritized filling a backpack with books for Buck to read. All sorts of adventures were in there; stories by Gaiman and Pratchett and Hickman and King and Adams and Cussler and Buck's dad had even managed to grab some of the comics and manga from the top shelf in Buck's room. Those books would keep Buck safe from dark thoughts throughout the journey. They wouldn't protect him from the mosquitos, thirst, or heat all that well, but he was glad for them anyway.

"You can't...there's no way to be ready for a calamity, Adagio. I'm sure you understand, you've been around, but...it wasn't the destruction. Infrastructure can be rebuilt, repaved, reinsured. The nightmare was the phone calls. We landed at my Auntie Zecora's place in Canterlot and she let us stay. She ain't really my aunt; she's a close friend of my parents. Mom and Sis were already there, of course, and Mom had some fuckin' words for Dad, let me tell you. And Dad bowed his head and he apologized and I think now, I think now he was cryin' then. Because he had been so sure, but he was wrong, and now I'd seen things I couldn't unsee.

But the calls...when you escape something like that, and you know your home is gone, there's just this shock, you know? What are we going to do? Where are we going to go? And there's another question, too, one that keeps getting answered over and over." Buck said.

He had wrapped his arms around his legs, which were close to his chest on the couch. He was facing straight ahead, speaking urgently and quietly. Adagio could see him shaking. His eyes were looking somewhere far away, the place that marooned sailors looked right after being rescued. He tasted like cold fear and salty tears and sharp, rising anxiety.

"My Mom was...is a community person. Being an expert in history and genealogy down south is a big deal, so she had contacts all over New Horseleans--all over Hayseed! She knew everybody and she was always an organizer so it must've seemed natural to them to reach out, and then once somebody back home got in contact she started getting calls from concerned parties and neighbors who made it out and...and at first, at first it was a relief, you know? People were alive.
But I watched my mama start falling down from hopeful to all broken up. People were calling to tell her who was alive. That meant that most folks was dead. Ma kept a tally. This was a historical event. But I don't think she recovered from that and...and...and everything was gone. My favorite book store and all my classmates at school and the park with all the crate myrtles and my neighbors. Everything was gone. The whole world had gone wrong." Buck's tone was getting lower.

Adagio could see the horror pooling in his eyes and dripping down his cheeks. She had stood in the ashes of villages sacked by pirate raids. She had splashed in the wet pools of a small and vicious settlement that she and her sisters had drowned with their magic. She'd had ships and homes and hideaways destroyed, but never had it been personal. These things are never personal, and one could always pick up and go if their family was with them. She knew that humans placed much more value in their living spaces. That was their home.

Buck's home had been taken from him. It wasn't personal. One day it was just gone. And it was becoming clear now, that Buck had felt homeless and helpless since that day, somewhere in the back of his head.

Buck was a lost little boy.

"Pop went back home with Uncle Cattail. Folks were still there, after all, and once the floodwaters receded, they would need someone like him in the city to offer aid and coordinate folks, and that was nothin' to say about the conservation effort; the damage to the wetlands and the flora and fauna and all this and Ma just fuckin' exploded at him saying that he just wanted to go back and be a hero when he should be stayin' with his family and Pop said they need me down there and that he would come back, she knew that he would.

And he did. He did come back now and again, he did but there was always more work down there. More people needing to be healed or taught about the wild stuff out in the green or what plants to use for what on what and it just never ended, man, and I feel like I didn't get to spend a year with Dad again until I was already out of high school and I missed him all the time, and...fuck. Everything was wrong." Buck's voice was quavering with the tears. Adagio felt a weight of apprehension settle onto her shoulders.

What was the play here? What could she get from...from making him talk about this? Why had she done this? He tasted like panic. The kind that comes from a starving animal being chased. He was back there in the aftermath, and he was in the years right after and he was nowhere, all at the same time.

"I been back home a few times, now. Last three years, I've been making it a habit to go back at the end of the year for Christmas and my birthday party and...I have to stay at the estate, because if I go out and see the city I'm just going to see that it's still wrong. Even though it's recovered and people came back and...everything is still wrong. Parts of the city are still a ruin, because the local government only cares about the tourist spots. You go off one of the main thoroughfares and suddenly you're in a third-world country. Fucking...fucking fuck...it's different, and it can't go back. Not ever." Buck was mumbling now, his eyes wide with fright. Fury and terror and fear, so much delicious fear and horror dribbled off Buck in shadowy waves. Adagio couldn't help but taste the song of his exquisite despair.

Buck's head was in his hands. His shoulders were quaking. "...I miss my Dad." He whimpered.

And then Buck let out a choked, rattling sob, and Adagio was holding him. His cries were that of a child that has realized truly what 'lost' means. There was so much sorrow coming off Buck, now. It was a sprawling lake of funeral flowers and wet books and dried blood. Adagio saw that he was helpless and pathetic; all at once, a weak little child had emerged from the heart of the man who had been inside her this week.

Adagio thought she'd be disgusted. But truly, she pitied him. That, and something else. She held him to her chest and let him cry. She held his sorrow inside and sat in it with him. She could feel the hot tears smearing her mascara.

Adagio began counting. Buck took twenty-three minutes to stop crying, and another six to speak again.

At that time, Adagio was slowly turning this situation over in her head.

What would she say to him? What was the play? How could she even be thinking of taking advantage of him right now?
Buck was breaking in her arms. Adagio decided that there were no words for this.

She simply held him and rocked him and hummed softly and when he finally emerged, his face as red as his eyes, he looked up into hers and must have seen that she was weeping with him. Buck shut his eyes hard and opened them again. He looked at her like she was something in a dream.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"I will be, Buck. Are you calm?" Adagio said. She spoke as she would to a child.

"...yeah. I am. I haven't gotten to talk much about this with anyone. They wouldn't understand it up here in Canterlot. They'd treat it like...like hot gossip, you know? People know where I'm from so they can tell what I've been through but...how do you explain something like this, I don't..." He trailed off.

"You don't have to explain anymore Buck. I understand. You know tragedy, and tragedy is something that latches on to you and weighs you down." Adagio said.

"Yeah." Buck said. "I'm sorry that I fell apart like that, that must've freaked you out." He was coming back.

"No, no, Buck. It's fine. I asked you to tell your story, and you did."

"Oh, no that's my childhood."

"What do you mean?"

"Adagio, I'm 28. Other things have happened to me since I was 12. I went to high school, and saw you, I met the Rainbooms, you know? Life stuff." Buck said. Adagio blinked and did some mental calculations. Right. He wasn't a child. He was a man, by human standards. She'd forgotten there, for a second.

"Ah. Yes." Adagio said. "I recognize it may be hard to talk about this if you-"

"I...I honestly feel a lot better. I mean, you actually listened to me." Buck said.

"Well of course, Buck. I said I would, didn't I?" Adagio said. She was idly running her thumbs along Buck's cheeks. She was wiping up the tears. Buck took her hands.

"Thank you. I promise; the teen years are more funny than sad."

"Well, I hope so, Buck. You certainly don't seem like a complete wretch, so I have to hope that you've enjoyed some good times." Adagio said. She took a breath. She was coming back, too.

"Er...well, yeah. I uh...do you want to talk about your past, now?"

"No Buck, I would like to take a bath. But that can wait."

"You sure? I think I got snot and tears on the front of your pyjama top."

"Focus, Buck. That..." Adagio stopped. Calculated. Closed her eyes. "...that was a brave thing you just did. You seem...you seem tough and inflexible but you're hurt. Sensitive. Am I right in saying that, Buck?"

"...yeah. That's about right." Buck said.

"And you like to be in control during sex, don't you Buck?"

"I...I mean, yeah. Hypersexual and all, it makes me feel calm and excited at the same time to take control in the bedroom. What's that got to do with this?"

"Buck. I'd like to give you a little gift."

"A gift?"

"A memory. I can see how hurt you are by your memories of childhood. I just want to give you a positive memory for tonight."

"Yeah?"

"Because you only beat the bad memories by piling good ones on top of them." Adagio said. She took Buck's hand.

Buck chuckled. "Laissez les Bons Temps Rouler." He said with a smile.

"Uh?"

"Let the Good Times Roll. S'somethin' that folks like to say down south. Basically what you said. Beat the bad times by havin' more good times 'n you can count." He said with a lazy drawl. Somewhere in that flashback, he had reached shoulder down into the flood water and pulled out a deeper accent. He must've kept it hidden.

"Yes. Yes! Exactly, Buck, exactly."

"What...what, uh, did you have in mind?" Buck said. He sniffled and wiped his eyes with his shirt. Adagio resisted the urge to boop his nose. Take him seriously right now. He's vulnerable. Use this.

Adagio lightly caressed the back of Buck's hand. He really seemed to like this sensation, she said to herself. She saw him smile small and sweet as she held his hand. "Something special. You gave me a gift in sharing the first part of your story. No one else could tell it like you. A unique experience; something more valuable than gold and jewels, Buck. So to thank you, I'm going to give you a unique experience in return." She said. Her grin went from soft and caring to malicious in the space of a sentence. Buck shrunk away the slightest bit.

"Will it be sexual?"

"Yes, that's what I was thinking, Buck."

"Oh, thank fuck. I'm exhausted." He said, chuckling. He scratched the back of his neck. There it was; the accent that Adagio was acquainted with. Like a trimmer more posh copy of the color of Buck's home on his tongue. Adagio couldn't help but laugh at that reaction. She caught a glimpse of Buck looking wounded for a split second, then he started laughing too.

"You're a strange man, Purple Prose." Adagio said, wiping away a tear, giggling.

"Yeah, well, I get that a lot. But hey, I'm never boring!" He said, grinning. They smiled at each other for a moment. Adagio was still holding his hand.

"Well, Buck. How about you go and wash your face and then meet me in my bedroom, hm?"

"Sure thing." Buck rose from the couch, and Adagio heard something pop in his shoulder as he stretched. Then a similar pop in his neck as he rolled it slowly. His shoulders slumped with weariness as he turned and headed for Adagio's bathroom.

"And Buck?" Adagio said sweetly as she began clearing the coffee table.

"Yeah?" She heard him say from around the corner.

"No clothes." She said, depositing the glasses in the sink.

Author's Note

Song Review: Just A Closer Walk With Thee is a folk song performed traditionally at funerals down in New Orleans. It has a somber lead-up that crescendos into a vibrant staccato horn melody. You see, all funerals in New Orleans begin in a state of mourning, but they become a celebration. Once the ritual is complete, the souls that departed during the day form up in a parade, called the first line. The funeral mourners form the second line and dance with jubilation in a style called buck jumping, which symbolizes liberation.
In the case of this narrative, the meaning of the song is inverted. Buck was never allowed to mourn the sudden death of his childhood, so that jubilation never comes.
I suppose it's pertinent to mention here that Buck is my self-insert character.
"Write what you know" and all that.
I happen to know a lot about being a slut and even more about going through hard times.
So here we are.