#; tonight I resent him so much for what he does to Oliver | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

perriewinklenerdie · 3 years

Text

Follow my steps (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Claire Herondale

Word count: 3,8 k

Summary: OH3 Chapter 12/13 added content. Claire gets fed up with the way Ethan’s been treating her lately. She gives him one last chance to make things right, at Boston Opera House - for old time’s sake.

Warnings: It’s angst time.

A/N: I don’t even know what’s going on lately. I wanted angst and here it is. My girl C really is running thin on her patience for her man’s bullshit (and so am I).

Are you okay? was the first message he received from her that day. He left shortly after he revealed his departure from the team, so her concern really should be no surprise. Still, he sighed deeply, silenced his phone and turned it screen side down, then went back to cooking, unsure what his answer would be.

Minutes dragged by, yet somehow turned into hours and before he knew it, the sun was racing towards the horizon. Almost completely consumed by it. He reached for his phone, planning on heading to his living room and rest his mind after he spent what felt like ages of grueling research into his options. His face twisted into a frown at the sight of his screen. Immediately after, blood drained from his face.

Ethan, please let me know you’re in one piece.

A simple ‘I’m fine’ would be enough. Seriously, I’m getting worried.

He battled with his brain, still uncertain what to tell her. She had enough on her plate with the team and the Boards, she didn’t need his problems to be added onto the already enormous pile. He replied with the only thing he could think of in that moment, resenting himself for letting her worry about him for so long.

I’m okay.

By the time he sat down on the couch and some ridiculous show was playing in the background – Claire was the one that introduced him to it, and he would never admit it, but he enjoyed their debates about it – a new message was waiting for him.

Oh, thank god.

Followed shortly after by a longer one, contents of which made him feel a pit opening in his stomach.

So, want to share with class why you went radio silent for the whole day, instead of, I don’t know, letting your girlfriend know that you’re not dead so she could worry a bit less?

He had no answer to that. How was he supposed to tell her that he was terrified of what was to come and that it could possibly be fatal for him? How was he supposed to say that he didn’t want her to be even associated with the case, because he cared about her too much to risk her getting affected by it too?

In the end, he didn’t reply. And she didn’t say anything else. An impasse, of his own doing, that he had no idea how to end. He knew he had to do something – she was a very patient woman, much more patient than him, but even she had her limits. And this? This wasn’t the first time he’s pushed her away in a similar manner.

Although he was aware of that, he still refused to call her. It was getting late, she was probably studying or getting ready for bed. She needed her rest, the next week was incredibly important for her future as a doctor.

That’s what he told himself for the next two days. Every time he felt a tingle in his hand to contact her, he reminded himself of her commitments and pushed the thought down. Despite that, every single time his phone made even the smallest sound, he threw himself towards it, hoping that it was her.

It wasn’t. Two days of no contact between them.

Realizing how long it’s been made him think of their conversation a few months back. They were sitting in the exact same place he currently occupied, close to each other. His hand holding hers with certainty.

They promised each other no more secrets. No more pushing each other away. And honest conversation. All of which were his ideas. He whispered all of them with deep sense of urgency, in a fever-like state that surprised her. She nodded her head eagerly, muttering words of affirmation, then let him pull her onto him, their lips meeting again and again in a soft reassurance.

He’s broken the rules he wanted them so much to have. And not even once. No wonder she didn’t try to get in touch with him – he’s given her every indication that he didn’t want to talk about it, and she pushed only until a certain point was reached.

“I can take a hint, you know.” She once joked, poking his ribs when they walked out of the patient’s room, their initial consult being far from ideal. He smiled sadly at the memory, his chest aching from her absence.

As though he called her with his thoughts, his phone announced an incoming message. He planned what he would say, what he would do once he saw her – and what he would not do in the future. He hated when they didn’t talk to each other, and he hated the thought of losing her even more.

Instead of her words, like he expected, the screen greeted him with a single picture she sent him. Two tickets, for an evening show at Boston Opera House. A clear invitation, an olive branch that she should not have been pushed to extend – she didn’t do anything wrong. He looked closer at the photo, zooming in on the time the show was supposed to start.

Two hours. He had two hours to get himself together. Two hours until he’d see her again.

Heart pounding, he jumped up from his seat and began preparations, dialing another phone number and giving clear instructions to the person on the receiving end of the call.

He doesn’t think there’s ever been a time he was this nervous when stepping into the Opera building. And it was a different kind of nervous, a kind he never wanted to experience again. He was used to the anticipation that came with every date they ever had, the good kind of nervousness that stemmed from his inability to wait until he saw her. This, however, was torture in its purest form, and he admitted to himself with a pang of guilt that he subjected himself to it on his own.

His hands were full. Full of flowers that the florist somehow managed to put together when he called frantically two hours ago – he left a hefty tip with a grateful nod. His fingers traced the stems of the white roses, shaking nervously. From time to time, he tugged on the collar of his shirt, restlessly, the uncertainty of what was to come making his breathing labored.

“Nice tux.” She called out, waiting patiently for him to face her. It didn’t take long – her voice made him turn around haphazardly, his eyes drinking in her face and then widening when he noticed the dress she was wearing. Suddenly, he couldn’t see anything else but the way the fabric hugged her in the classiest way.

“Are you trying to kill me?” he breathed out, his brain short circuiting. Her lips curled in a subtle smile. She touched the pearl necklace he once gave her in wonder.

“Haven’t decided yet.”

Ethan took a step towards her, extending the bouquet slightly with an uneasy look. Her eyes fell towards the flowers and, for a moment, he thought he could see her gaze softening. She took the roses from him, the scent reaching her in waves.

“Thank you.” she muttered without looking up at him. Despite her being just mere centimeters away from him, he could still feel the chasm between them – and he felt like the space was suffocating him.

“It’s not nearly enough.” He tried again. Claire hummed, not disagreeing with his words. She reached into her purse, taking two tickets out and handing him one of them. He accepted it gratefully, combing his mind for something that would start a conversation between them. The silence was killing him.

He looked closer at the ticket and noticed something was off. “You didn’t book our booth?”

The corners of her lips shot up slightly at ‘our’. “No, I got us seats in the booth on the other side. I needed…” she hesitated, avoiding his searching gaze. “A change of perspective.”

His mouth opened and closed. She rarely said anything without thinking it through, so the choice of words she used made him feel unease all over again. Claire finally looked up at him, giving him a teasing smirk.

“Before you say anything, I didn’t go bankrupt because of those.” She nodded towards the tickets in their hands. “I have more than enough money to spend on things I want.”

“That resident salary is treating you that well, huh?” he tried joking and it worked. She gave him a laugh, shaking her head.

“A resident that’s also on the Diagnostic Team. And you’re clearly forgetting what my family does for a living.”

“Did you just flex your family muscle on me?” Ethan grinned, taking another step towards her. She nodded, challenging him with her stare. “Are you trying to impress me?”

“That’s your job tonight, babe.” Claire shot back, walking around him swiftly. He froze in place, turning towards her like a sunflower towards the sun – always following where she went. Her hips swayed from side to side alluringly as she walked, and he couldn’t look away. Suddenly, she stopped to look over her shoulder, smirking at the look he was giving her. “Are you coming or not?”

The lights from the stage illuminated her face just enough for him to see her features. Since they sat down and the show has started, he’s spent a total of maybe five minutes watching what was happening on stage. Remaining time was occupied by her, on the forefront of his mind and right before his eyes. Her cheeks were reddened slightly – something he noticed when a particularly bright light shone on her face.

They’ve done it countless of times before. Dates. He never got used to nerves that accompanied them, and he hoped he never would. It was a part of the allure that made it all the more exciting. Claire’s always made him feel nervous, since the first day he’s met her. Three years later, he still felt the same spark that ran through him when he first touched her hand.

He turned to her again, unable to ignore the pang that hit him every time he saw her stopping herself from reaching for him. She may have been the one that organized their evening, giving him a chance to make things right between them, but it didn’t mean she was going to ignore what was obviously there.

She’d never make him talk if he wasn’t ready to do so. Their relationship was built on mutual respect. They recognized when the other needed to talk and when they needed some time to gather their thoughts. Through the time they’ve known each other, they learned to find those cues and signs.

That’s how Claire knew that Ethan wasn’t really ready to tell her what exactly happened, hence why she stuck to texts instead of calls or visits. His lack of any contact, however, hurt her – more so when his previous behaviors similar to this were taken into consideration.

In light of this, her hesitation to initiate any sort of contact between them made perfect sense. All he had to do was let her know that he was okay, however relative it was to say in his current situation, and none of this would be happening. All he had to do was let her in, even if only a little – she’s never asked for anything more. And yet, he couldn’t even give her that, not immediately at least.

It became clear to him that he needed to let her know how much he trusts her. When she said she knew him. When she said she understood him – better than anyone, he added with a grin. When she said she’s falling for him. He trusted all of those words, but his actions didn’t support it. He could see it in her eyes when their gazes crossed earlier that evening. She thought he still sheltered himself from her, and him disappearing, again, was the proof that spoke the loudest.

Slowly, he reached for her hand. A soft brush of his finger against hers, testing the waters to see if she would flinch, if she would push him away or avoid him. When she did none of those things, he carefully covered her hand with his, only to, after a moment, lace their fingers together. Ethan gave her a squeeze, unable to bring himself to look away from the way their hands fit together like two pieces of the same puzzle. She squeezed his hand lightly, still refusing to look him in the eye.

Music swelled around them, tugging on their emotions until it was difficult to breathe. He noticed how her face twisted gently, revealing more of her feelings to him than he’s seen the entire evening. The characters on the stage have separated, each singing their hearts out about the feeling of loss – Claire couldn’t have known that, but the pain in their voices was enough to bring her to the edge of tears by the time the break in the show began.

Before Ethan could say anything, she excused herself breathlessly and walked out of the booth, leaving him alone to his thoughts. And he’s been alone with them for quite some time now.

He began reflecting on the first time he took her to see an opera. The similarity of the situation was striking – he suddenly knew why she suggested this out of every place they could go to. Her thoughtfulness really shouldn’t surprise him, yet he was always amazed with how well she knew what needed to be done. Oftentimes, she neglected her own needs to accommodate others, which left not much space for her in it all. That’s what became one of Ethan’s priorities early on in their relationship – make sure she remembered about herself.

She was taking care of him too, sometimes even unknowingly. Making him take breaks in the middle of the day. Bringing him coffee when he was stuck in meetings and couldn’t walk out of the room for even a second – the whole Board by now knew about their relationship from their first-hand observations, sending him meaningful looks when she left the room.

One thing that spoke more of her feelings for him than anything else was how she persistently stayed by his side through it all. His world was quite literally falling apart, and she was the one holding it in place. She told him that she knew how it felt to risk losing something you’ve worked for, how it felt to come so close to having everything slip away and that she was going to help him in any way she could.

Claire told him all of that when he broke the protocol – yet here they were again. If there was one person between the two of them that had a pattern of behavior, it was him – running away when things got too complicated. Or, as it stood right now, when he didn’t want her to get impacted by his problems. She’s told him that she wants to be impacted, that she wants to help him, because she cares about him. She’s by his side because she cares about him. And he told her he knew and understood her concern, but clearly, he didn’t register it enough, if he was in the exact same position right now. It’s as though he hasn’t learned a thing.

Perhaps she was getting tired of it. If he continued to act the way he’s been acting up until this point, she’d surely be pushed enough to leave him – and he couldn’t imagine a fate worse than that for himself.

It was the last time I let myself run, he thought to himself, cursing for even allowing it to get to this point. Where was his brain when he even considered it a viable option? In what universe would that behavior be okay? Her resolve and persistence became even more striking to him – he knew that he most likely didn’t deserve her.

She was still here, though, so he must have done something right. But one good deed wasn’t enough to make up for letting her down, time and time again. Ethan didn’t need her to tell him that what he was doing was unacceptable – he’s realized it on his own.

It’s never happening again.

Claire walked back into the booth, leaning against the wall to watch him. He was perfectly aware of what she could see in his posture. His nervousness in the way he played with the edge of his jacket. She’s been gone a moment too long and he was a second away from standing up from his seat to go after her.

Ethan turned around at the sound of her steps, refraining from saying anything until she was seated. His hand itched to reach for her, to feel her skin again. He got the permission to do just that, when their gazes finally crossed and she nodded gently. Letting out a shaky sigh of relief, he laced their fingers together, feeling the soft fabric of her dress under his skin.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered, raising their joined hands to kiss her wrist. Claire guided the movement, pressing her palm to his cheek. The gesture ensured their eyes didn’t stray from one another and allowed them a moment of clarity.

“Aren’t you tired of running?” her words were laced with emotions so much, it felt like a mental blow to both of them. It was a simple question that he already knew the answer to. Nothing was more obvious to him.

“I am.”

She held his gaze, silent for a moment, then placed her second hand on his shoulder. “Don’t do it again.” she whispered, a hint of a tear shining in her eyes. “We’ve talked about it before, Ethan. I’m tired of going in circles with you.”

“I know.” He brushed the tear away, bringing her closer to rest his forehead against hers. “You don’t deserve this.”

“No, I don’t.” Claire agreed, nodding her head. She leaned away, lowering their hands and resting them in her lap. “You can tell me anything, in your own time. I’m the last person to judge, because I know that some things need that time. But I would never cut you out the way you just did, especially if I knew that you were worried.”

Ethan lowered his head in shame, finding no words to defend his dense behavior. He knew she was right – his behavior left a lot to be desired. Claire continued.

“It tells me that you don’t view me as your equal. You don’t trust me enough to confide in me. Every time something happens, it’s always the same story.” She sighed, falling deeper into her seat. Her hand was still in his, allowing him that form of contact. “I need transparency here, Ethan. We have rules, that you came up with, that you break every time things get tough.”

He winced at the vulnerable edge in her voice. More than ever before, he felt as though the ground was about to be pulled from beneath him.

“You can’t be in a relationship only a little. Or only on weekends. You’re either in it for good, and you take everything that comes with it, the easy and the difficult, or there’s nothing left to say.”

And there it was.

Ethan’s eyes widened. A hand wrapped around his heart and squeezed, making him feel lightheaded. If he ever had gotten a wake-up call before, this one was the loudest one. And the most devastating.

“Claire, wait.” He said, his voice strained when she tried to pull her hand out of his hold. She glanced at their hands, then up at him, her eyes glassy. Ethan breathed out heavily, pleading with his whole being for her to stay where she was. “You’re right. I haven’t been fair towards you.”

“That’s saying it mildly.”

“I know I don’t say it enough, but you’re my person. I trust you more than anyone else, even if I’m utterly useless at expressing it.” He gave her fingers a tender squeeze, his eyes finding hers urgently. “I’m an asshole for making you worry, and an even bigger one for keeping you in the dark. You deserve better, and lately, I’ve been messing up.”

“Can’t say I disagree.” She mused, tilting her head slightly. “Is there a reason for that?”

“I don’t know.” Ethan’s thumb traced her ring finger “It’s as though there is this outside force that’s making me do all those idiotic things, and before I realize what’s going on, everything’s already going to hell.”

“Sounds like you need to work on your impulse control.” Claire said, a tiny grin appearing on her face.

“You’re my impulse control.”

He cupped her cheek with his free hand, stroking the line of her cheekbone softly. She leaned in, just a fraction of a centimeter. Her gaze was a mix of feelings Ethan couldn’t describe – it made him feel a bit more at ease and at the edge of his seat, all at the same time.

“I’m sorry, Claire.” He muttered, voice low and thick, overcame with emotions. Claire nodded her head, a sigh filling the space between them. Her eyes, even though they were growing softer just a moment ago, were now hardened and serious.

“Don’t ever do that to me, ever again.”

“Of course. I know.”

“No, I don’t think you do.” She cleared her throat, straightening her posture. “If you don’t start treating me like your equal here, I will leave you. There’s only so much I can take, Ethan, and I draw the line at this.” Ethan’s entire body froze at a very real perspective of her walking away. The feeling of ground disappearing from beneath him came back, twice as strong. He shook his head, words rushing through his head. “And that would suck, because I don’t want to leave you.”

“I can’t lose you, Claire.”

“Then don’t lose me. Don’t push me away.” She breathed out, at last, squeezing his hand tightly. The atmosphere between them was heavy and it became difficult to breathe. Ethan knew they were not out of the woods, but he felt a bit less nervous when she cracked a smile. “Do I need to tie you down so you’d stop running?”

“You already did.” he mused, waiting for her permission, then leaning in to kissing her cheek softly.

They missed the second part of the show. He leaned close to rest his chin on her shoulder, his arm wrapped around her waist to keep her by his side – she wrapped her hand around his forearm in return. Voice low and quiet, he finally began telling her everything, sparing nothing. Once the show ends, he’ll follow her lead – after all, he’s never gotten lost with her by his side.

Notes

Am I above dissing PB in a fic, of all places? Hell no, I’m not.

Opera because C is clever like that - and we love throwbacks to better times.

PB is making Ethan act like an angsty teen. And don’t get me started on the ‘prying’ bit. Ma’am, it’s not prying, it’s called caring about your husband boyfriend because something is clearly going on and it seems as though he’s covering someone else’s ass and taking a fall for it. It’s called *concern*.

Thank you for reading! <3

Tagging separately

#ethan ramsey #open heart #playchoices #ethan x mc

101 notes · View notes

madpanda75 · 4 years

Text

“Taking Chances Part 9: Love, Tequila, and Ice Cream”

And we’re back!!!!! So to give you a brief recap, Rafael and the reader left the Carisi house in a huff after the reader gave Sonny “the slap heard around the world.” Find out what happens next in this latest chapter. Words are said, sexy times happen. It’s fluffy, smutty fun....for now 😉💕

NSFW: Sex by the fireplace! Can ya’ dig it??? 😜💥🔥

Rafael adjusted his grip on the steering wheel as he drove across the Verrazano Bridge. Occasionally he would glance over at you sitting in the passenger seat with your head down and your hands gently folded in your lap.

Rafael cleared his throat. “So should we go to my place or yours?”

You grunted out a monotone syllable in response.

“Ok, your place it is,” he said with a sigh, turning on the blinker and making a right turn towards your apartment.

Once back at your place, you immediately went to the living room and started a fire. Your apartment may have been a shoebox, but the wood burning fireplace was a definite perk. When you first moved in, the notion of a struggling artist pouring her heart and soul onto the canvas beside a roaring fire seemed romantic and bohemian.

While you stroked the flames to life, Rafael stood there with his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels. “Cold night, huh?” He inwardly cringed at having been reduced to commenting on the weather.

“Mmhmm,” you replied.

“Two syllables. That’s progress,” he thought. Maybe by the end of the night, you would utter an actual word. After several minutes of deafening silence, he made yet another feeble attempt at conversation. “Your mom is a wonderful cook.”

“Hmmm,” you grunted.

“That’s it. I can’t take it anymore.” Rafael crouched down next to you and took your face in his hands, forcing you to meet his gaze. Your eyes were still shiny with tears, your nose bright red.

It was the first time since leaving your parents’ house that you had looked at him or even acknowledged his presence apart from the occasional mumble. “I know this afternoon was a complete disaster, but I can’t take this anymore. Please say something. Anything.”

Your bottom lip quivered before blurting out, “He cheated on me!” As soon as the words escaped your lips, you crumbled into a heap on the floor, sobbing.

Rafael gathered you into his arms, running his hands through your hair, rocking back and forth. You clung to him, wetting his brand new Tom Ford dress shirt. But neither of you could care less. After all, he knew what it was like to be betrayed. Once you calmed down, he asked, “So tequila or ice cream?”

“Both,” you replied with a hiccup and a very loud unladylike sniffle.

Rafael got up and walked over to your kitchen to grab the bottle of Tequila Ocho Reposado you had hidden in your cupboard behind the cheap stuff before rummaging in your freezer for the pint of Haagen-Dazs’ Chocolate Chocolate Chip. He smiled when he saw the post-it note you had left on the frozen dessert.

“This ice cream is the personal property of Y/N Carisi. DO NOT TOUCH OR PREPARE TO MEET A VIOLENT SUDDEN DEATH!”

He handed you a spoon and a glass. “Why do you have a death threat on your ice cream?”

“Sometimes Teresa or Gina crash here after partying or a bad date. They’re notorious for stealing my secret stash of junk food.” You pulled the cork out of the tequila bottle with your teeth and drank straight from the bottle.

Several smooth swigs of alcohol and an unfortunate brain freeze later, you and Rafael sat in front of the fire and swapped war stories. Although he had briefly mentioned being cheated on by his childhood ex-girlfriend, Yelina; tonight he shared more with you than he ever had with anyone. How heartbroken he was. The humiliation. How after such a betrayal he wondered if he ever could trust someone ever again.

Likewise, you felt safe enough to stop skirting around the ex situation and finally tell the truth about Theo. “We were supposed to go to some bakery in Staten Island to sample cakes for our wedding, but Theo told me he wasn’t feeling well and asked if we could reschedule. I didn’t think anything of it at the time.” You snorted a laugh as you scraped the last bit of ice cream out of the container. “How stupid was I?”

“Hey, don’t talk about my girlfriend that way.” Rafael wiped away a spot of chocolate chocolate chip ice cream on the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

“Later on that day, I came home with some ribollita and tea.”

“Ribollita?”

“It’s an Italian bread and vegetable soup. My mom would make it for us whenever we’re sick or sad,” you explained.

“When I walked inside, I saw a trail of clothes and heard a girl’s giggle coming from down the hall. I followed the sound, opened the bedroom door, and saw him with Lacey. The 21 year old bimbo who worked at the dry cleaners down the street,” you said in such a bitter tone that Rafael could feel the acerbic bite in his bones. Hell hath no fury than a woman scorned.

“It had been going on for months. Apparently, she had been doing way more than spot treatments and pressing his pants. I dumped the soup on his 500 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets, threw the ring at his forehead, and left. He never followed me. He never fought for us.” You shook your head and took another shot of tequila when your phone began to buzz and dance across the floor. It was your brother. Since leaving your parents’ house he had called ten times-- a new record for him.

Rafael watched as you shut off your phone and tossed it over to the couch. While Sonny was not his favorite person by any means, he knew how important your brother was to you. The last thing he wanted out of this relationship was to come between you and your family. Not only did he firmly believe they would despise him for it, but above all else he had a gnawing fear that you would resent him for driving that wedge. “You know, you’re going to have to talk to him eventually.”

You scoffed, “I never want to speak to Sonny again. I hate him.”

“That’s not true and you know it.”

You rolled your eyes. As usual Rafael was right, but that didn’t mean you had to give in and be the first person to offer an olive branch. Sonny was a colossal jerk and he needed to learn a lesson.

“He’s just looking out for you,” Rafael continued. “In his own sick and twisted way.”

You arched a brow at your boyfriend. “So how much did you overhear when Sonny and I were in the kitchen?”

Rafael shrugged and averted his gaze, suddenly incredibly fascinated with the pattern on your rug. “Not much. Snippets really.”

“So pretty much all of it?”

“Pretty much,” he confirmed. “Did...did you ever love him?”

There was a pregnant pause before you responded. Rafael stared into the fire, watching the flames dance and flicker, unable to face you. Of course he already knew the answer was yes. You were a hopeless romantic. But the idea of you loving another man, planning a future with them, made his stomach knot up.

“I thought I did once. But it was different. I can see that now.”

Rafael nodded thoughtfully and grabbed the ice cream carton and bottle of tequila to take back into the kitchen. “How so?”

“Theo and I grew up together. We were childhood sweethearts. The only reason we got engaged is because that’s what people expected of us. It was the next step. But looking back, I realized I was complacent and complacency does not equal love.”

You glanced over at a picture on the coffee table of you and Rafael. You had taken it one lazy Sunday morning in bed, Rafael was kissing your cheek, his bed head sticking out in all directions while you were laughing hysterically. What the picture didn’t capture was that he was tickling that one spot right under your ribcage. You smiled fondly at that happy moment frozen in time. “Love should be scary. It’s taking chances. It’s thrilling. I never felt that with Theo. I feel all those things when I’m with you. I love you.”

Rafael walked back into the living room, completely stunned by your declaration. “What did you say?”

“I love you?” you said with a shrug, feeling a wave of nerves. Perhaps you had jumped the gun.

Rafael plopped down on the rug beside you. He had realized early on in the relationship that he loved you, but always chalked it up to indigestion and brushed his feelings aside. He never believed you would reciprocate so soon. “Are you sure?” He turned towards you and cupped your face. “This isn’t just the tequila and ice cream talking. You’re not drunk or on a raging sugar high?”

You giggled and mimicked his movements, cupping his cheeks. “I promise I am not under any influence of any kind. I love you, Rafael Barba. With every fiber of my being, I love you.”

A tear slipped down your cheek which he brushed away. “I love you too.” He leaned forward and captured your lips with a kiss. Parting your mouth with his tongue, his touch was gentle yet commanding. Your toes were beginning to curl.

A heat crept up your body and you started to undo the top few buttons of your dress. Out of the corner of his eye, Rafael spied a flash of emerald green against your skin and stopped his ministrations.

“What’s the matter?” you asked out of breath.

He ignored your question and tugged your dress aside a little more, revealing the silk emerald green corset. The corset that you had taunted him with when you invited him to lunch on Sunday. The corset that he had envisioned ripping to shreds with his teeth.

You giggled and blushed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “With all the drama, I forgot I had this on.”

“You mean...you wore this to church?”

You slowly nodded your head. “And to my parents’ house.”

Rafael was already rock hard, but now he was on the brink of coming in his pants at the mere thought of you wearing this sinful lingerie underneath your demure dress all day-- piously praying at St. Thomas; helping your mother with her marinara sauce in the kitchen. “Stand up so I can see you better,” he gruffly commanded.

You obeyed and slowly went back to the task of removing your dress. “Stop,” he said and replaced your hands with his. “Let me.”

Your heart was hammering in your chest at his request. A tiny whimper escaped your throat as he peeled your dress off. Rafael’s hands were trembling with each button. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen you naked before, but this time felt different. He was nervous. Locking eyes with you, he could see you were nervous too.

Once your clothes were shed, he drank you in from head to toe--from how that particular shade of green complimented your skin, to your hard nipples poking through the silk and lace, all the way down to the black thigh high stockings connected to your garters. “Eres perfecta,” he whispered, his eyes half-hooded with lust as he began to take off his clothes.

You grabbed his hands, effectively stopping him. “Allow me.” You arched your brow and began shedding layer after layer. You took your time, running your hands over his exposed flesh, feeling his firm muscles beneath your palms.

Completely lost in the sensation of your fingertips against his skin, the clanging of his belt against the floor brought Rafael back to reality. His boxer briefs were the last to go. With a flirty snap of the elastic, you rid him of his underwear, his hardened cock springing free. He toed out of his socks and stepped towards you, nudging his clothes out of the way.

You stared at each other for a long moment-- your chests heaving, bodies pulsating. The tension between you both was electric. Not wanting to wait another second, you pressed yourself against Rafael, kissing him hard, nibbling on his bottom lip. He returned the kiss with vigor. You could feel his throbbing erection weeping onto your inner thigh, brushing against your lace-covered pussy.

In awe of this beautiful man in your arms, you began to work your way down his body, laying wet wanton kisses across his skin. “Oh Y/N, please,” he whimpered. Hearing him beg, you raked your teeth against his nipple, a particular sensitive spot for Rafael. He gasped in response.

You smirked, reveling in the fact that you had reduced him to a begging, quivering mess. Kneeling before him, you took his cock in your hand and teasingly flicked your tongue against his slit.

Rafael groaned at the sight of you looking up at him with big innocent eyes and a wide welcoming mouth. From this angle, he could see the way your garters rested on the luscious curve of your ass.

You wrapped your lips around him, swirling around his crown as if you were sucking a lollipop, tracing every vein.

Rafael threw his head back and groaned, “Ay Dios mío.”

His cock felt hot and heavy in your mouth, you relaxed your throat as you slowly swallowed him down, pushing his head past your tight ring of muscle. Your nose was tickled by his trimmed pubic hair. He held your head there for a moment, relishing in the sensation.

You smacked his ass and grabbed a handful of his flesh before pulling off him with a pop. “Fuck my mouth, mi amor,” you purred while stroking his length. “Don’t hold back. I want all of it.”

He wrapped his hand around your long locks and fed you his cock. “You naughty little girl,” he growled before thrusting. “Going to put that mouth of yours to good use.”

“Mmmhmm,” you moaned. Tears were running down your cheeks as you gagged around him, taking everything he had to give. You loved when Rafael got rough. You craved it. Giving him pleasure brought you pleasure.

One of your hands reached up to massage his balls while the other reached in between his legs, pressing down on that strip of skin between his cock and his ass. That was all it took for Rafael to come undone. His cock swelled and released. His warm seed splashing against your tongue. Rafael came so hard, he was practically bent in half, clutching the mantle, grunting over and over again. You sucked him dry, not stopping until he gently pulled you off his sensitive cock.

“Jesus Christ,” he chuckled. “You have a mouth like a vacuum cleaner.”

“Should I take that as a compliment?” you asked, wiping away some of your smudged lipstick.

“I nearly had a heart attack just now, what do you think?” He had an evil glint in his eye and took several steps towards causing you to scoot back. “I think I need to repay the favor. Don’t you?”

“Only if you insist.” You laid back down on the floor in your most seductive pose.

Rafael knelt down. “Oh believe me”-- he grabbed your legs and pulled you towards him causing you to squeal in surprise--“I insist.”

He ran his hands across your body, pressing against your form through the silk. Wanting to repay you for your earlier torment, Rafael took his time disrobing you--tugging at the laces of your corset, unsnapping your garters, peeling your stockings off. There wasn’t an inch of skin left unattended from the crown of your head down to the arches of your feet.

You couldn’t catch your breath. “Payback is a bitch,” you thought as he sucked a mark onto your right hip. Rafael saved your thong for last, opting to tear it off you with his teeth.

He parted your folds, revealing your glistening pink pearl, stroking your soft, wet, sex. You spread your legs wider, feeling his hot breath on your pussy, arching your hips toward him. He clucked in disapproval. “So impatient.”

“Please,” you whimpered. “I need you.”

Unable to resist any longer (after all, he was only human), he began to worship your core. Offering his tongue as a prayer as he swirled around your lower lips and traced patterns on your clit.

You grinded against him. “More,” you pleaded.

With a loud squelch, Rafael stopped and lifted his head. “You have such a perfect little pussy. I love it so much”--he playfully bit down on your inner thighs-- “and it’s all mine. Isn’t it?” With an intense, heated stare, he spit on your pussy. The sensation of his saliva on your swollen clit caused you to jump.

“Yes, it’s yours,” you wailed.

“That’s right,” he cooed while slowly making concentric circles on your bundle of nerves, watching how his spit mingled with your dripping juices. “And you’re gonna come all over my face, aren’t you?”

You arched your back and gasped. “Oh God, yes! Yes!

“Shhh, that’s my good girl,” he said with a smirk before devouring you once more. Your moans of “More” and “Don’t stop” spurred him on.

With his mouth wrapped around your clit, he penetrated you with his fingers, stroking that spot deep within you that drove you insane. One crook of his finger had you coming with a shriek.

Feeling your core pulse against his tongue as he fucked you through your orgasm unleashed something savage within him. He buried his face against you, groaning, his lips and chin completely coated in your arousal. Already hard from eating you out, he rutted against the rug, desperate for some relief.

His tongue was relentless while he fucked you with his fingers until he ripped another orgasm from you. By the third time you had come, you melted onto the floor. And yet you wanted more. With Rafael, it was never enough.

You pushed him off you and straddled him, kissing him with such fierce passion he toppled back to the floor. “I want to show you how much I love your cock.” You nuzzled your nose with his before sitting up and dragging your center against his length. Hovering over his cock for a moment, you lowered yourself onto him.

Rafael grabbed your hips to keep you in place as he rotated his pelvis, wanting you to feel every inch of his cock. Your whole body shuddered. Digging your nails into his chest, you began to rock against him.

Rafael groaned, watching you fuck him. “Look down, querida. Look at how fucking sexy you look riding me.”

You followed his gaze down to where you were being impaled by him. Biting back a whimper, you experimentally flexed your muscles, squeezing against his cock. Rafael choked out a sob which only encouraged you to speed up your movements.

You lifted almost completely off him before slamming back down.

Flames licked at your flesh as you continued to bounce on his cock. Rivulets of sweat dripped off of you, one drop running down your chest. Rafael sat up and caught it with his tongue, holding you close as he latched on to your nipple, suckling against the hardened bud before repeating his actions on your other breast.

Your bodies worked in tandem, pushing and pulling. You were reduced to a wild animal, clawing at Rafael. Red streaks covered his sweaty skin. He loved it, wanting nothing more than to be claimed by you, his own ethereal goddess.

“Rafael!” you cried out in a hoarse voice. He cut you off with a searing kiss.

“I love you,” he moaned against your lips.

“I love you too.” Tears began to run down your cheeks. Your heart was beating fast, blood pounding in your ears, pressure mounting. You were too far gone by this point. Can you die from pleasure? Oh...but what a way to go.

He pulled back, forcing you to lock eyes with him. His eyebrows furrowed, mouth slack, panting and whimpering with every thrust. You pressed your forehead against his, your breaths mingling. This was beyond the physical. Your souls were melding, transforming one another.

You simultaneously erupted, swallowing each other’s moans and grunts, stroking each other through your respective releases. When you finally floated back down to earth, you collapsed on the floor, your bodies still connected.

“Holy shit,” you sighed.

“I know,” Rafael panted.

“If I knew saying ‘I love you’ would lead to mind blowing sex, I would’ve said it a whole lot earlier,” you teased.

“I knew you were only after me for my body.” Rafael let out a breathless laugh and tickled that one spot on your side. Exhausted and not in any hurry to move, you both laid there as the fire weakened until only a few dull embers glowed.

You nestled against his chest, having never felt so happy. As cheesy and cliché as it sounded, you wish you could stay that way forever. That is until the events from earlier in the day came floating back into your mind. You had no idea what you were going to do with your family, especially Sonny.

But that wasn’t a question for tonight. Right now you were perfectly content being wrapped up in your own little world. Just you and Rafael.

Tag List: @glimmerglittergirl @southern-magnolia @sweetcannolicarisi @delia26 @obfuscateyummy @sass-and-suspenders @eclecticminded @thatesqcrush @katmstanton @amirightcounsellor @beltzboys2015-blog @letty-o @sonnysdoll @lyssa1385 @sweetsummertime99 @burningsorr0ws @gibbs274 @izzythefanfreak @babypink224221 @livxrafa @esparza-army @obsessionprofessional @ottosuricato @mgarner1227 @dreila03 @tropes-and-tales @thecraziestcrayon @goodluckfindingone @scarletsoldierrr @youreverycolor @yeah-boiiiiiiiiiii @imagine-all-the-imagines @imjustreallynosy @graniairish @ashley-chi @lolacolaempath @cocomel0613 @imagine-all-the-imagines @mysterioustrashadventures @that-girl-named-alex @scapricciatello @mrsrafaelbarba @zizzlekwum @katierpblogg @crowleysqueenofhell @caked-crusader @garturbo

#rafael barba #rafael barba fanfic #rafael barba imagine #rafael barba fic #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba fan fiction #barba #barba imagine #barba fanfic #barba x reader #sonny carisi #law and order svu imagine #law and order svu fic #taking chances

170 notes · View notes

sam-roulette · 4 years

Text

tonight’s writing process is trying to figure out a simple question:

What does The Magnus Archives look like without Martin Blackwood?

I don’t mean this as in “what if Martin had a slightly different personality” or “what if Martin was more of a minor character” or even “what if Martin died early”- I mean, what does TMA look like if you completely removed Martin’s very existence from the plot? No character to replace him, so Jon only ever has two assistants in s1. No character that has a storyline similar to his even as a statement. A world where Martin Blackwood just does not exist as a tangible person. Someone who’s never been born.

tl;dr: without Martin, there is no hope.

Let’s take it season by season.

Season 1: The absence of Martin means that there is no dog incident in the Archives, which is a tragedy in and of itself. It also means that although Jon feels pressure in his job, he doesn’t have an apparent and possible spy sent by Elias looking over his shoulder, and no one to take his frustrations about being wholly incompetent at his job out on. Most likely, Tim, Sasha, and Jon would all work exceedingly well together, truth be told- they all knew each other beforehand, and even if Tim and Sasha are still a little resentful of Jon taking a promotion that he should have recognized more rightfully belonged to Sasha, it’s not as though either of them have archival experience either.

No one bothers to go through the special extended follow up on Carlos Vittery that had [REDACTED] trapped for 2 weeks in his flat. Sasha is, therefore, still skeptical as to how dangerous Jane Prentiss really is, as she only really begins to believe after [REDACTED] begins staying in the Archives. This may make her less inclined to believe Michael, or give Michael less incentive to warn the Archives. For the sake of giving our heroes their best shot, let’s say that Michael still shows her.

End of Season 1 occurs. Sasha figures out the corkscrew method and helps unworm Jon. Ultimately she still leaves Jon in document storage to warn Tim, and Jon must sit, alone, waiting. Without [REDACTED] there is no stash of CO2 in the office, meaning that unless Sasha acts quick enough, Tim is almost certainly doomed. Sasha is still taken by the not!them. Elias has mercy on our erstwhile heroes and turns on the system early, killing Jane Prentiss. Tim Stoker just barely survives by the skin of his teeth.

Gertrude’s body is never found.

Season 2: Jon begins to have an extended breakdown about the existence of tunnels under the institute and all the horrors therein. Tim is out of the Archives for months afterward, needing to be hospitalized for the amount of flesh those worms managed to chew through and Not!Sasha makes sure to tell Jon all about how very wormy the tunnels are, and yes she’s been exploring, and oh no Jon don’t exert yourself, just rely on Reliable Ol Sasha.

When Tim comes back, he’s very much not right. Far more jumpy than he had been previously, sometimes searching for shadows that aren’t there. He tries to lean on Jon’s shoulder, but Jon’s been equally as uneasy and there’s no outlet for it. He begins having doubts about “Sasha” and Tim, who could be argued to be as “changed” by the trauma as Not!Sasha, defends her passionately, all the while “Sasha” seems to be drawing away from the both of them and Jon begins to feel alienated from Tim continuing to take Sasha’s side. By the time Melanie King breezes through and confirms that there’s something off about “Sasha”, Tim is feeling so isolated that even in rooms where he once shone as the center of attention, it’s easy to miss him. There always seems to be a heavy fog curling at his ankles.

Michael still stabs Jon, giving him the spiral mark. Not!Sasha attempts to make her move, marking Jon with the Stranger, and Jon manages to get her trapped in the tunnels by Jurgen. Jurgen attempts to explain and, when Jon goes to smoke, is bonked. Jon is not only blamed for the murder of Jurgen Leitner- when Elias says he “found” secret tunnels and, with officer Daisy Tonner, now partnerless due to a tragic incident in which many officer lives were lost at the site of (now-Dark Avatar host) Callum Brodie’s kidnapping, they manage to find the body of Gertrude Robinson. Jon flees into hiding.

Tim is alone in the Archives. Jon so far has been marked by: Web, Stranger, Spiral, Eye, and Corruption.

Season 3 - The Jon marking gets underway with many of the old beats and some newer ones, such as Karolina Gorka, take the place of marks that otherwise would have been handled in s4. Tim is slowly and steadily deteriorating. Melanie King arrives for her first day of work to an empty Archive with what appears to be the AC turned on just a little too high and absolutely no one to tell her what in the hell she’s even supposed to do, despite Elias’s insistence that Tim is still there. Basira Hussain remains deceased. Jon gains the following marks: Vast, Hunt, Desolation, Buried.

Elias admits to the murders after Jon finally marches back in to him, but no one can do a damn thing about it, and no one can pin the blame on him. No one can find evidence linking him to the murder and [REDACTED] can’t act as a distraction to let someone else find it. Elias will continue to pull the strings tighter and ever tighter. Daisy is no longer able to be blackmailed with Basira, but she is still able to be blackmailed by her considerable record of brutality and murder, and thus becomes Archival Assistant Number 3. Or it would be 3, if anyone could find Tim.

Jon is still kidnapped by the Stranger, but in the end that ritual is left to implode in on itself as Gertrude’s tapes were never recovered. Jon attempts, instead, to pull Tim, his last and final connection to those he knew, out of the lonely. Tim, hollowed out after the deaths of all those he loved and seeing Jon slowly slide toward monsterhood, disappears into the mists and is never seen again.

Jon leaves the lonely without Tim and Tim Stoker is, inevitably, found dead. It was a pathetic existence. He is marked by the Lonely.

Elias takes a nice vacation and lets Peter take the reins of the Institute

Season 4 - The psychological damage and the remnants of the Lonely are so great that Jon falls into an unresponsive state for months, which isn’t helped by proximity to Peter after his failed attempt. Oliver seals his fate with an end mark. The last remaining markings are gotten as usual, with Jon receiving the flesh mark after he manages to make it just in time for that time all that Flesh stormed the Archives. Melanie and Daisy manage to hold it all off with Helen’s help and business goes on as usual, with Melanie getting the ghost bullet cut out of her and giving Jon his slaughter mark before finding a way to quit the institute. Daisy becomes Jon’s sole assistant, and without the joining variable of the Coffin, they never get along.

Jon gains the following marks: Dark, slaughter, flesh, end.

Elias gives Jon the incantation himself and watches Jon end the world.

In the end, Jon never had a choice in the matter. No matter how futilely he tried to stop reading, he couldn’t. And as the Panopticon rose around him and he was left with no anchor to speak of, Jon must dully take on the mantle of the Archive, and tend to his very own ruined world.

I definitely do want to stipulate that I don’t think events would definitely and 100% play out this way without Martin, and there are other things that could substitute Jon’s anchors- if Tim followed up on Vittery, if Basira still lived, or if Melanie never left and instead she and he reconciled, or even the presence of Georgie staying because she knows Jon has no one else. But even in all those scenarios, you’d have to do a lot of work to fill the Martin shaped hole in the center of it all, and that was kind of what this was kinda meant to show vfjhbkjvf

In conclusion: Martin is, himself, a personification of all hope in the series. and that makes his fate a very, very frightening thing indeed.

#tma #jonmartin #martin blackwood #the magnus archives #magnuspod #meta #sam tag #ofc this isnt really a definite thing but vhbkjvf #i have many thoughts #and many more thoughts about martin and his place in it #but like im tired #and this is secretly for the #mechanisms martin #au so lol

74 notes · View notes

firebrands · 4 years

Note

Naaaaaadine! Please do Evil Exes for Bingo!

!!!!!!!!!!! I FINALLY DID IT

bad blood, T, 2.7k | stony bingo prompt fill “evil exes” | on ao3

Pepper chokes on her iced coffee when a tall, blond, beautiful man strides up to Tony and envelopes him in a hug.

“It’s been too long, Tony,” he says.

Tony has colored considerably, and looks a little disgruntled. Pepper tries to be as subtle as possible when she elbows him, waiting for an introduction.

“Pep, this is Steve. Steve, Pepper.”

Pepper composes herself and shakes Steve’s hand. This was Steve Rogers? The worst man Tony had ever met? Impossible. Steve Rogers was a common enough name, she thought. Tony must have meant someone else.

“Nice to meet you,” Steve says, grinning. “So what brings you to the gallery?”

Pepper blinks, still reeling from the introduction. “I told Tony that there was a new artist displaying his work,” she says. “And I guess… you’re him?”

Steve laughs. “Really?” He turns to Tony. “I’m so glad you came, Tony. I’ve missed you.”

Tony looks up from his phone, doing his best impression to look disinterested. “Pepper didn’t leave me much choice,” he says, which isn’t actually a lie. Pepper had pulled the best friend card and offered to pay for lunch, and Tony had only agreed when she had promised to stand up and protect him from his ex, whose art was being displayed.

Pepper takes a sip of her coffee as Steve tries to engage Tony in conversation. Tony had used words like awful, horrible, terrible when he had explained why he didn’t want to go. Worst of all, he’d never told Pepper (or Rhodey, or anyone) why they’d broken up. When Pepper had tried digging, Rhodey didn’t have any answers for her. Back in college, he said, they were the picture of a perfect couple. Then… they weren’t. Tony didn’t talk about it. Ever. Something about this was fishy, and Pepper was going to get to the bottom of it.

“How long are you in town for?” Pepper asks, smiling at Steve despite Tony very obviously stepping on her shoe.

“Just two weeks,” Steve says, still smiling and looking absolutely charming. “I have another exhibit in a different gallery, and I might hold a quick workshop.”

“That’s lovely,” Pepper says, sliding her toes from under Tony’s. “Maybe we can all grab dinner, if your schedule isn’t too full.”

Pepper doesn’t need to look at Tony to know that he’s frowning at her; she can feel his irritation come off in waves.

“Or not,” Tony says.

“I’ll make time,” Steve says. “But for now, I have to go—my curator’s been waving at me for the past minute and I don’t want to piss him off any more than I have.”

Pepper nods and smiles. “It was really nice meeting you, Steve.”

“You too! And it was great bumping into you, Tony.”

“Yup.”

“Well, here’s my card. Just let me know when and I’ll be there.”

“I will!”

“Or not!” And at that, Tony stomps away.

***

“Okay, tell me what happened,” Rhodey says, sighing as he sits down on Tony’s couch.

Tony’s pacing around the room, looking close to tearing out his hair, and Pepper is perched on the armrest beside Rhodey, sipping on a cup of tea.

“She—” Tony whirls around and points at Pepper. “Asked my ex to dinner.”

“He’s just so nice, Tony! I want to get to know him,” Pepper says. She has the good sense to look chastened, but Rhodey wonders how much of it is sincere.

“Whose side are you on, anyway!” Tony whirls around and points at Pepper as he speaks. “And you!” He turns to look at Rhodey.

Rhodey holds his hands up—a practiced gesture, as he’s used to these outbursts from either of them.

Pepper sighs. “It’d help if we just knew why you broke up, honestly.”

“Why does it matter?” Tony asks, deflating all of the sudden and sinking down to sit beside Rhodey. “Why can’t you just believe me?”

Rhodey slings an arm over Tony’s shoulders. “It’s not that, and you know it,” he says. “We’ve always got your back.”

Pepper sets her cup aside and wedges herself beside Tony. “I’m sorry,” she says, hugging Tony and kissing his cheek. “I was just curious.”

Tony nods, still looking a bit put out.

“It’s been five years, Tones,” Rhodey says, rubbing his shoulder. “Guess we figured you’d be over it.”

“Yeah. He just doesn’t seem all that bad.” Pepper rests her head on Tony’s shoulder, and Rhodey playfully tugs on her ponytail after she speaks. Don’t bring it back there. She disregards him and continues. “What did he do, anyway?”

Tony rolls his eyes and groans before burying his face in his hands. “Exist,” he says, voice muffled by his palms.

“Hey man, if you really don’t want to go we won’t force you,” Rhodey says, gently pulling Tony back up. He gives Pepper a warning look over Tony’s head.

“I know.” Tony sighs.

Pepper purses her lips, trying to hide a smile. “So do you want to?” She asks, before pulling Tony into another hug.

“Shut up,” Tony whines, half-heartedly trying to get out of her grip. After a short tussle, Tony rights himself up and scoots closer to Rhodey. She looks close to pulling him back into a hug, but her phone beeps.

“Dammit, that’s me.” Pepper dusts herself off. “See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Rhodey says. Pepper leans down and kisses them each on the cheek before leaving.

Tony sighs. “That woman.”

“We just don’t understand,” Rhodey says, fiddling with one of the buttons on the couch. “But you don’t need to explain if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah, well,” he says, draping himself over Rhodey. “I don’t either.”

Rhodey pets Tony’s hair and makes a small, inquisitive sound.

“Just.” Tony sighs again, long and deep. “Who gave him the right, you know?”

“Huh?”

“To look so good,” Tony murmurs.

Rhodey lets out a small laugh. “Well, Tones, you don’t look so bad yourself. At least, most of the time.”

Tony flips over and glares at Rhodey. “I resent that. I am the picture of perfection at all times.”

Rhodey nods sagely, and smooths down Tony’s hair. “Yes, always. My apologies.”

Rhodey tips his head back and stares at the ceiling, and he’s about to fall asleep when he hears Tony whisper, “I don’t trust myself around him.”

“Why?” Rhodey sits up and looks down at Tony. “What do you mean?”

“I just can’t, okay?” Tony covers his face with his hands again. “I can’t.”

Rhodey shifts and moves Tony to sit up so he can look at him properly. “You know, even back then he never seemed like a bad guy,” he says, trying to catch Tony’s gaze. He tilts Tony’s chin up and looks at him sternly. “But I swear to god if he hurt you—”

“No.” Tony ducks his chin and looks away. “That’s not it.”

“What?”

“I really don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“Okay.” Rhodey leans back and pats his lap, and Tony lies back down. “But promise me that if he did hurt you, you’ll let me punch him.”

Tony laughs softly and closes his eyes. “Yes, I will, honeybear. Now it’s nap time.”

Rhodey sighs, settles in, and wonders what on earth Steve could have done all those years ago that Tony’s still affected.

***

Natasha knows that she has this power over people that make them spill their secrets. She uses it wisely, most of the time.

Tony slides into the booth with their drinks and says, “Please do not ask me about what happened with Pepper yesterday.”

Natasha takes a sip of her drink. “Okay.” Of course, Pepper had already filled her in over what had happened, but Natasha respected Tony’s boundaries and didn’t want to pry—it was unbecoming.

They’re silent for a moment, and Natasha’s just about to bite into the olive of her martini when Tony sighs very loudly and snaps.

“I just don’t understand why she’d ask him to dinner!”

Natasha chews, swallows, and dabs her lips with a tissue. “Who?”

“Steve!”

“Who is Steve?”

“My ex!”

“And we hate him, yes?”

“Yes, Nat, he is the fucking worst okay and we bumped into him at an exhibit and Pepper made googly eyes at him and said we should all catch up over dinner.” Tony takes a deep breath after his tirade, then deflates. He sips on his whisky sullenly.

“Did she really?” Natasha asks, leaning over the table. “Where are you going?”

“No she didn’t,” Tony mumbles. “I mean, I don’t know, she has his card or whatever, but it’s the principle of the thing.”

Natasha nods. “I agree. Especially after what he did.”

Tony looks up with a start. “You know what he did?”

“Well, no. But it must have been awful for you to still be so salty about it.”

Tony huffs. “Yeah.”

Natasha sips her drink and pops another olive into her mouth. Yes, she was curious, but she knew better than to push; Tony was more hyper-verbal than usual tonight, and she always liked being people’s sounding board.

“Well—” she starts.

“I can’t believe—”

They both stop, and Natasha laughs. “You can’t believe…?”

Tony sighs again, and downs his drink. “He asked me to marry him, it was awful, and I hate him.”

It’s a good thing Natasha decided against taking a sip, else she would have choked on it.

“What?”

Then Rhodey and Pepper arrive and Rhodey offers to buy a round and Natasha stares at Tony as he and Pepper talk about what to get for dinner.

***

Tony had gotten home so late last night that he still feels a little drunk when he wakes up. He downs a glass of water and crawls into the shower, the world still spinning when he steps out, and digs around his closet. He curses himself for forgetting to have his laundry done, and reaches into the recesses of the cabinet in the hopes of something decent to wear.

His fingers catch on something, and he pulls it out with a sigh of relief—only to yelp and drop the shirt when he sees it.

He stares at the hoodie on the floor, faded a little in the collar and at the cuffs, from how often he’d tug them. Tony squats down and picks it up, his heart clenching as memories come unbidden.

Even if he’s all alone, he can’t say why he hasn’t thrown out Steve’s favorite jacket. It didn’t even fit him properly, and stopped smelling like Steve years ago. He does remember—quite shamefully—that it’s the one thing of Steve’s he didn’t give back. After what had happened he’d packed up everything that reminded him of Steve and given it to him, except this.

And Steve, ever the considerate, kind, loving man that he was, never asked.

He remembers when Steve first leant it to him, months into their relationship. They’d gone out for a walk, and despite Tony’s own jacket he was shivering. The leaves had turned gold and red, and the breeze brought the reminder that winter was on its way.

Steve had slipped it off and given it to Tony, and after a token protest, Tony had put it on. He’ll never forget how brightly Steve smiled at him then—not that he ever wanted to.

The memory leaves a sour taste in Tony’s mouth. Even now, after all these years, he can’t fathom why he reacted the way he did. They’d talked about the future often enough, daydreamed about living together, about moving back to New York and starting a life.

They were good together. Great, even, now that Tony has had a fair share of relationships to be able to compare. Still, the years he spent with Steve were some of the happiest in his life, but the way they ended only served as proof that maybe the best things weren’t meant to last.

Tony sits down on the bed, still holding the hoodie. He was wearing it that day that Steve had upended everything.

He had just finished his dissertation defense, and Steve had invited him over for the weekend to celebrate. Steve had prepared a picnic for lunch, and the spring air was cool as they lazed on the blanket and ate sandwiches.

Tony remembers lying down and staring up at the trees, blinking as the sun peeked through the leaves.

“This is literally the happiest I’ve ever felt in my life,” he said.

“More than all the other times you’ve said that?” Steve teased, lying down beside him but propping himself up on his elbow so he could look at Tony.

Tony turned to him and smiled. “Yeah, definitely.” He pushed himself up a little and kissed Steve, his heart feeling so full it could burst.

“I love you,” he said.

Steve brushed Tony’s hair away from his face, smiling dopily at him. “Marry me,” he said.

Tony jumped up so quickly he ruined the artful arrangement of food in front of them.

“What?”

Steve sat up and looked just as panicked as Tony felt.

Then Tony ran.

Tony sighs, fiddling with the cuffs of the jacket. “God,” he says, and feels his voice echo around his apartment. The hours that followed Steve’s proposal were some of the worst in Tony’s memory, and he decides to make himself some food to get his mind off it.

Rhodey arrives a little before lunch, and looks surprised to see Tony awake.

“Well, that’s a look,” he says, setting down two cups of coffee.

“Thanks,” Tony says. He’s been in a dour mood since he’d stumbled upon Steve’s jacket. What’s worse is that he didn’t have anything else to wear, and he felt a little unhinged by virtue of his outfit: Steve’s hoodie and a pair of very old jorts, fraying at the hem.

“You making lunch for two?”

“Guess I am now.”

Rhodey stands beside him and watches as Tony sullenly pokes his omelet.

“We gonna talk about—”

“I had nothing else to wear, okay.”

“Okay.”

They’re silent for a moment, and Rhodey leaves to set the table.

“I guess Nat told you,” Tony says.

Rhodey freezes, the dinner plate in his hand hovering just above the table.

“I know it’s dumb.” Tony sighs and brings the dishes over. “At this point it’s just embarrassing.”

“Frankly, Tones, I’m surprised you even know the meaning of the word.”

Tony swats Rhodey on the back of the head. “You’re welcome for lunch, asshole.”

Rhodey laughs, and for a while they’re quiet as they eat.

“So why’s it embarrassing?”

Tony frowns. “Are you asking because you don’t know, or because you want to psychoanalyze me?”

“Ugh, please. I’m not Natasha.”

This shocks a laugh out of him. “Okay, fine.” Tony takes another moment to gather his thoughts, scattered as they are. “I just kept saying he was awful because it was easier that way. I never wanted you to know why because well, it’s dumb and I know you liked us together.”

Rhodey levels him with a look. “I don’t care who you’re with, Tony. I don’t think anyone’s ever going to be good enough for you. But you were happy, so I was happy. Simple as that.”

Tony bites down on his lip, which feels dangerously close to wobbling. “Rhodey, you are honestly my favorite person in the whole world.”

“Well, don’t let Pep hear you say that,” Rhodey says, laughing a little.

They don’t talk anymore about Steve after that, instead recount the shenanigans they’d gotten into the night before. Rhodey leaves after helping clean after lunch, and before Tony realizes it, he’s alone again.

Under the carrying tray of the coffee Rhodey had bought is a slip of paper, and Tony picks it up. It’s Steve’s card.

Tony sighs. A few days ago, when they’d bumped into Steve, he’d felt a shame so deep that he couldn’t even face him. But Steve had looked so earnest and sincere, like there was no bad blood between them. If Tony’s being honest, it’s not like there ever was any, anyway—it was just easier to paint Steve as the bad guy rather than ever admit that maybe Tony was wrong. After all, he’d never met anyone quite like him, never met anyone who understood him the way Steve did.

Tony bit his lip and pulled out his phone. He typed in the number on the card and held his breath.

Maybe they could just try and be friends. Like Rhodey said, it’s been five years. Besides, he’s probably married already anyway, or at least dating someone; it’s unfathomable that no one would snap him up.

The line rings, and the automated trill is cut when it’s picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hey Steve, it’s Tony. You free tonight?”

---

like my work? buy me a ko-fi

#stevetony #superhusands #stony #evil exes #tony stark #steve rogers #pepper potts #james rhodes #natasha romanoff #TONY'S FRIENDS CARE ABOUT HIM #BUT THEY'RE ALSO QUITE CONCERNED

134 notes · View notes

shannaraisles · 4 years

Text

Oh, THAT’S Amore

A commission fic for the lovely @anywaffle, who requested a little fluff for Iron Bull and Inquisitor Lavellan.

Oh, That’s Amore

“Horns up!”

The roar of the Chargers’ celebration after a good fight echoed across the Herald’s Rest, heads tipping back to down the contents of whatever they were drinking that moment under the benevolent eye of their glorious leader. Iron Bull chuckled as his men, his band, his friends, fell to bantering over the fight they had just come from, the victory they had won in the name of the Inquisition and Inquisitor Lavellan herself. It was impossible not to feel proud of them, even after everything he had given up to keep them living.

A part of him knew he should have resented them for his own attachment that had made that decision on the Storm Coast impossible for him to make, but Olive had been right - in all but name, he had been Tal Vashoth for a long time now. But he was not a Grey One, not an outcast incapable of controlling his baser urges. He was the Iron Bull, and never did he feel more proud of the name he had chosen for himself than when a certain diminutive elf called him by it.

Speaking of that elf ... His head turned with unerring focus at a familiar dip in volume across the tavern, knowing even before his eye found her that Olive had entered. The residents of Skyhold were so in love with their little Inquisitor that she was always preceded by a brief moment of hush, a sign of the respect and awe they held her in given for just a heartbeat before they resumed their business, knowing her well enough now not to linger in those moments. But no one knew her like he did.

No one else had seemed to notice her tension and discomfort in those early days in Haven, but the Iron Bull had. No one else had noticed the nightly tears and banked terror in her eyes, but the Iron Bull had. He could still remember the look on Krem’s face when he had requested one of his second’s hand-made nugs, refusing to offer up why he had asked. He was still pretty sure Olive only suspected that the soft little thing had found its way into her cabin by his hand, though she had never called him on it. He knew exactly where it was now - on her pillow, high in her tower, one wing rubbed smooth from all those tears shed in silent anxiety over the position she had found herself in entirely by accident. She loved that nug, he was sure of it. Just thinking of it, set in a place of such honor, was enough to make him smile.

And that smile was met by hers, even across a crowded taproom, the dewy sweetness of her eyes softening above a grin that belonged entirely to him, displayed openly for all to see. There was no hiding her affections; there never had been. No one was in any doubt that Inquisitor Lavellan was definitely saving her kisses for the Iron Bull.

As he watched, she broke away from Varric and Sera, all but skipping across the taproom to plant herself in his lap with a wide grin. He couldn’t help himself - he chuckled fondly at her exuberant display of unconscious affection, inwardly delighted that she always chose to sit here, with him, no matter who she had entered with.

“Well, hello, boss,” he greeted her, grunting a little as she squirmed on his lap, pulling something from her pocket as she did so. “What’s got you so sparkly tonight, hmm?”

Olive’s grin never wavered as she met his gaze.

“I made you something,” she informed him, setting a little pot into his large palm.

Curious, he raised a brow, uncurling his palm from her waist to reach around her and open the container. What he found there was something he had not come across in these lands anywhere but in the hands of some extortionate merchants.

“Horn balm?”

Olive nodded happily.

“You said you had trouble finding it, and all the merchants who have it charge ridiculous prices for it, so I wrote to my cousin in Wycombe - he knows a couple of Qunari - and he asked them for the recipe, and he sent it to me!” she said, the words coming out in an unaccustomed rush, displaying the barest of lisps that she usually worked so hard to conceal.

That she was excited enough to forego her usual careful speech spoke more than volumes to him; it wrote an entire series of compendiums on warmth and affection and caring that might otherwise have passed him by, were it not for her. Touched, he raised the pot to his nose, sniffing delicately, and there were the old familiar scents - of beeswax and coconut, the soft green scent that clung to his lover’s hair, the barest tang of the leather mortar used to mix it all together. It was something she would not normally turn her hand to, preferring to knit and crochet, to make soft things that could be used or treasured by those she gifted them to. That she had gone so far out of her way to make this for him was ...

“Bull?”

“Mmm?” He lifted his head, his eyes finding her slightly worried gaze barely inches from his own.

“Does it smell bad?” she asked, and though likely no other would notice it, he saw the tension ripple through her frame at the thought that her gift might not be as good as she had hoped it would be.

He smiled, curling his palm to her waist once again, hugging her into his chest to breathe in the scent of her wild silver hair.

“Best gift anyone’s given me, kadan,” he assured her, feeling that tension ease out of her frame as she cuddled into him affectionately.

It wasn’t until later, when she was cajoled from his lap to dance with Krem in an ill-fated attempt to get the bard’s attention, that he suddenly realized what he had said. Kadan. A word filled with so much meaning, yet a word he had never before given to another. A strange tightness gripped his heart as he followed her movements, admiring her lithe form, her bright smile, the warmth that radiated from her whenever she was surrounded by those she called friend and family.

“Ah ...”

He chuckled to himself, his fingers curling around the little pot of horn balm still held in his palm, wondering how it had taken him so long to put a name to what he felt when his little Lavellan was anywhere near his thoughts.

So that’s love.

#anywaffle #commission fic #dragon age inquisition #iron bull #olive lavellan - oc #iron bull x lavellan #realization #comfortable affection #definite fluff

31 notes · View notes

mollysmythtymsyllom · 4 years

Text

A Second Chance

“Sort of.” She allowed, trying to think of an apt way to explain it. It wasn’t really that simple. “I become this… this bloodthirsty monster if I don’t… if I don’t make an offering.” She chose her words carefully. Of course she’d never hurt someone that didn’t deserve it, Gotham was full of scum that wouldn’t be missed. And she always did her research, making sure to do her due diligence before that time of the month. “I haven’t let it get bad like that since it happened.” Apart from maybe the last few weeks, but Thea was still learning and recently she found out that her own emotions tie in to how the effects take over.

“The girls, the ones with PhD’s and study different sciences, are trying to help me find another way to deal with this, but other than hurting criminals we haven’t exactly found anything that’s worked.” And she was losing hope. They had been at it for months and they barely made any headway. Her birth father and Jason had helped the most. “The only thing we’ve found in ancient texts and tombs that has any crossover is that I would have to eliminate the one that ‘killed’ me. But the likelihood of me finding Ra’s ever again is slim to none. And the likelihood of me breaking into the stronghold at all is close to impossible, even with help.” She sighed, feeling extremely defeated.

Thea knew that look, she could tell Will was thinking about her brother and what he’d done to her. “Hey… Ollie and I, we’ve got a lot of baggage but if the roles were reversed, I probably would’ve done the same thing. We’re the only family we’ve got.” And she missed him every day. “I wouldn’t be strong enough to go on without him… even after knowing what could’ve become of him.” She admitted with a heavy heart. Thea had had time to work through her grief and resentment toward Oliver and the situation. She could look back on it with more clarity than before. “I… I have a friend that had much worse side effects, and he helped me cope with being alive knowing that I was on borrowed time.” Her stomach knotted as she thought about Jason; one of the few people on this earth that knew what it was like to be ripped away from Death’s sweet embrace. Her heart sank a little, but she shook that thought from her head. She still owed Will a couple apologies. “I’m sorry that I had to keep this from you; I just, I knew how much you hated vigilantes… and how much you’d hate me for being one.” She sniffled, doing her best to keep her tears at bay. She would not cry tonight, not again. “And my whole reason for being one is beyond insane, like, I know how absolute bonkers I sound. And I knew that you’d agree and not fully understand. And most of that is on me; I know that. Because I should’ve been honest from the start but god trusting you with my heart was hard enough.” She laughed humorlessly. “I just… I miss you. I hope that you can forgive me someday…” @gothxmcitysirens

Again, Will did his best to really listen and take in everything that Thea was telling him. He didn’t want to miss hear her, and she deserved to be able to tell her whole truth without interruptions. He knew that a lot of the women that Thea lived with were extremely smart. He had spoken with Pam, and Eliza, and he would even admit that Harley knew what she was talking about when it came to the mind. It was good to know that Thea had so many people looking out for her. Good to know that she was trying to fix what was wrong with her. . . She was supposed to be dead. Even from the moment that Will had met her, Thea was supposed to be dead.

When Thea stood up for her brother, Will let out a small huff through his nose. He understood what she was saying. He wasn’t sure if he’d be strong enough to let the natural order of things have their way with any of his siblings if he knew of the location of the famed Lazarus Pit. He knew a little about doing anything for the wellbeing of his siblings. Still, he wanted to punch Oliver Queen in the face.

All this information, but Will was still confused about one thing. “But. . . do you kill?” He could have sworn that the Gotham City Sirens didn’t kill anymore, but maybe Thea and her friends had found a way to cover up her murders. “You said that you need to make a sacrifice to your blood lust, but. . . does that mean killing?”

#Will Chance #Thea:Will #gothxmcitysirens

1 note · View note

kuchee · 5 years

Text

novelty / 2.7k / read on ao3; back on the trash train for a festive theme 🎁 right on time for @styleweek day 6 - holiday!

Kyle curses under his breath and backspaces several times. It's hard to write a text with only his thumbs poking out of his gloves, but he's damned if he's going to actually take them off in the freezing cold.

To: Stan 1.11PM

Can you come over and keep me company while I fry a gajillion donuts for my mom?

To: Stan 1.13PM

please?

There's no point in being annoyed about the situation–– it's not like he had any actual plans for today, other than mentally steeling himself for the family gathering tonight. Frying donuts is as good an activity as any to pass the time. He's always dreaded this time of year, when his mother hosts her extended family for the evening, usually on the first night of Hanukkah. Kyle gets saddled with the responsibility of making nice with dull cousins and answering invasive questions from aunts about his future. Last year he'd even gotten a couple of pointed remarks regarding hypothetical girlfriends.

The food is almost worth it, however.

He glances down to the miserably empty tote bag slung from his shoulder as he digs his keys out of his coat pocket. His failed attempt at gift shopping this morning is another reminder of how woefully strange the holidays are for him. He doesn't even know why he tried to get Stan a present. They don't do this normally–– it's no one's birthday. He just thought, it's different now. It's what a boyfriend should do, right? As a good boyfriend, he should be getting Stan a present, because Stan likes Christmas, and Stan loves presents. He was that kid who would be thrilled every year when his parents let him open one on Christmas Eve, even though they'd be like, pajamas, every time.

A string of buzzes makes his phone jump on the counter while he's untying his shoes.

Ma 1.17PM

You're an angel :)

Ma 1.16PM

Dough is covered on the dining table, pans in the cupboard above the sink.

Stan 1.14PM

Be there in 20. Want anything from store

Both texts make him smile through the mild distress haunting him since morning, the realisation that he has no idea what the fuck to get for Stan. While he's worrying about presents, Stan's still repeating the same line from when they were fifteen.

He knows where the dough is, he spied it before he left this morning, and presently he's attempting not to quail at the thought of getting through that amount. His mom had called while he was in the car–– she's out with Dad getting a few last-minute items from the warehouse store out of town, and an accident on the highway has put them an hour behind schedule, possibly more.

He doesn't mind. Living away for real has made him starkly aware of how little responsibility he had while living at home, and more than that, he wants to help out, especially if Stan comes to keep him company. These dinners stress his mom out, too.

Kyle gathers everything he needs, and at the last moment, decides to put on an apron. He doesn't want to have to change into anything else for tonight. He thinks he knows how to make the donuts, he's watched his mom do it through the years and helped her on occasion. She certainly assumed he did. His hands are sticky with dough when he hears footsteps in the corridor. He glances at his phone. Fifteen minutes, not twenty.

Stan enters the kitchen with a brief "hey, dude," and a smile that's probably less starry-eyed than the way Kyle's interpreting it.

The cold from outside radiates off him, but it's not enough to quell the urge Kyle gets to lean over and squeeze him. He settles on a smile, raising powdery white hands to show why he can't do more.

Stan promptly empties his backpack (firm on this front; he'd been the one to wean Kyle off plastic bags): chocolate chip cookies, a couple protein bars, and a bag of chips that he opens up, offering one up to Kyle's mouth.

Kyle eyes the flavouring on the packet, bacon cheddar, and then Stan, pointedly. "Really? Of all days?"

Stan rolls his eyes. "They're vegan. And like you care, anyway."

Kyle leans forward and takes it, and then two more, hoping this doesn't mean that Stan is attempting that again. His cheeks burn belatedly as he chews, with the dawning understanding that Stan just fed him, and they didn't do that before, but by the time he realises it, Stan has ducked away to the coffee maker.

"I thought you'd wanna be out," he says beneath the crinkle of the bag of chips. "Don't you need time to charge up before tonight?"

"I was out shopping. But my mom's stuck in traffic so she needs me to help her get ahead on preparations."

Stan nods his acknowledgement, and if he can read any hesitancy in Kyle's tone about his morning activities, he doesn't mention it. "Anything I can help with?"

"Can you dig out the lights? They should be in a box in the living room."

Stan returns with said box a minute later, dumping it on the counter a few paces from Kyle. Kyle's almost finished cutting out circles of donuts by now. They work side by side in silence. Kyle drums his fingers and watches the meter rise on the thermometer he sticks in the oiled pan, while Stan untangles the sets of fairy lights. Kyle's wondering if he should just give in and ask Stan "what they're doing about presents," when Stan speaks up and interrupts the thought.

"Are you coming for Christmas? My mom really wants you to come this year." The acute stare Stan directs his way indicates more than that – it's asking, does she know about us? Kyle wouldn't mind if she did, and he tells Stan as much through an easy nod. But it's still one step closer to his parents knowing, and he doesn't know if he wants to deal with that yet. Maybe after the holidays.

"I'll see," he says, giving up on the thermometer, which seems to be stuck at 300 no matter how high he turns up the heat. "For sure if my parents are away. But they might wanna spend more time together after Ike gets here." Ike––luckiest bastard in the whole town-–gets to skip the Hanukkah dinner because his vacation only starts a few days after. Kyle wishes he was still in college, just for that.

Suddenly, Stan lets out a surprised huff of laughter. Kyle turns to see him lifting a sprig of something olive green out of the box. It's an artificial mistletoe decoration with a huge, garish red ribbon wrapped around the stem.

"Dude, why do you even have this?" Stan says laughingly, lifting it in the air.

Kyle shakes his head at the absurd trinket. "I think Ike was trying to convince some girl to kiss him in high school. Probably." Stan nods but doesn't put it down, twiddling it between his thumb and forefinger with a distant expression. Kyle watches him from the corner of his eye. "What?" He smiles slyly, but it easily devolves into a snigger. "You thinking about whether you might finally get a hot girl to kiss you?"

"Blow me," Stan says without missing a beat. He smirks, but only for a moment. He puts the mistletoe down and turns to Kyle, that pensive look back in his eyes. "I really want you to come, too," he says. "I think– I'm pretty sure she does know," he glances at the ground, and then back up at Kyle again. "And I don't know, the way she was asking, and the way I answered, it was different than normal. It's like if you came, I'd be confirming it." He smiles, "Also, I need you there to drive me off a cliff when Dad starts getting drunk and trying to be buddies with Shelly's boyfriend twenty minutes into dinner."

That's fair reasoning, too. It's what he did last year, except it was up into the mountains, not off the edge of a cliff.

"Dude," Kyle says, turning to face him too, a little stunned at how shy Stan seems over this. It's not really a big deal, because Stan's mom is like, a sensible person, and they are close, but that just makes it prod warmer in Kyle's chest. Flour be damned. He puts his arms around Stan's shoulders, avoiding touching anything with his hands. "I'll come."

Stan squeezes him, his arms drawing tight and so warm around Kyle's waist, travelling up to his back. Kyle sighs contentedly. So that was a conversation. Sort of.

Stan leans his chin over Kyle's shoulder. "Also, your oil is burning."

Kyle pulls away, making a sound of utter annoyance. By the time he's got everything under control––and yes, maybe the donuts are looking a little too brown, whatever, they'll still be delicious–– Stan has returned to untangling lights. Kyle feels a little bad for giving him such a tedious task and thinks about swapping for the next round of dough-cutting and frying.

The next thing Stan finds in that box puts it out of his mind completely. Stan gapes. "Holy shit, dude. I made this."

He holds up a transparent plastic bauble in his palm, the size of a tennis ball, maybe a little bigger. "Dude," Kyle says, staring in wonder as the memory returns. It must have been something like fourth grade, when they were doing 'fill your own baubles' in class. Kyle had been irritated. It was right at the time he was becoming fully aware of just how pervasive this Christmas fervour was, and really only starting to be clued in that maybe it was that that made him feel so alone this time of year. A little estranged, uneasy, but nothing he could pinpoint to blame for it. Until he really thought about it. Kyle had spent the whole afternoon angrily snipping paper into non-denominational snowflakes, stuffing them into a cheap husk of a bauble that was too small in the end, for his creation to look anything like he wanted it to. Seething inside about if any of these teachers in this stupid school realised not everyone had stupid trees to hang stupid baubles off of, not everyone cared.

Stan hadn't gotten it – come to think of it, he had barely been paying attention – when Kyle ranted about it the day before. Kyle was too absorbed in his resentment to even talk to him during class. But afterwards, when he was stomping his way home, Stan had caught up with him, snow crunching wildly under his boots. Kyle turned to bark a warning at him not to run so he wouldn't slip, a recent careless injury of Stan's fresh and alive in his mind, but by the time he did, Stan was inches from him, panting, his gloved hands outstretched.

"Kyle, I made you this," he had said, breathless. "I know you're sick of all the Christmas shit."

Kyle looks at the bauble in Stan's palm now. It's a snowglobe. Stan had turned the bauble upside down, no string, and steadied the base with cardboard and tape. Tiny pieces of polystyrene snow littered the bottom. A minuscule toy car Stan had carried in his pocket once or twice was parked next to the flat facade of a house, coloured with thick marker ink– Kyle's house. Stan had been at the very cusp of a goth phase, which explained why the colours weren't exactly bright enough to recognise, but the stick-figure of Kyle standing by the door had resolved any doubt.

Kyle laughs delightedly at the memory and Stan holds it closer to the light from above the cooker so he can observe it, an identical grin plastered on his face. The scene has been dislodged a little from where everything initially was, from the years of being jostled around in the box, and the craftsmanship is a little less impressive than he had found it to be age eight, but the glowing warmth that had struck him, standing with Stan in the snow halfway to the bus stop in that grey afternoon, is unmistakable. Just as striking now as it was then.

Kyle thinks he's made peace with all the bells and whistles of the Christmas season; he's learnt to sympathise with the sentiment, if not the expression, of the way it fevers over a small town like this. People just need something to get them out of the routine, that's all.

His hands are oily so he doesn't want to take the snowglobe, get grease all over it, even noting how ridiculous that might sound referring to a decade-old flimsy school project. Instead his eyes dart around, spotting the mistletoe––considerably less valuable–– and he picks it up with a bashful smile in an attempt to convey what he's feeling.

"Seriously?" Stan's laughing again.

"Yes," Kyle says, grinning, glowing. It's not often he feels like he can catch Stan off guard with this kind of thing.

"Dumbass," Stan declares, before crossing the space between, a feeble attempt at a beleaguered sigh lost in yet more laughs.

Stan kisses him with both hands around his face, direct, unusual. It might be partly a way to avoid all the oil on Kyle's apron – his fastidious cleanliness in every other aspect of life never seemed to translate to any sort of ability in the kitchen. Kyle knows he's smiling dopily when Stan takes a step back, his cheeks a now-familiar red under the harsher lights above the cooker. They look at each other until Kyle has to stop to look at the donuts.

He speeds through another batch, and finally, all the frying is done. Once he has the sugar prepared to dust them, Kyle stops, brushes his hands down on his apron and says, "Stan, do I get you something? For Christmas? Is that a thing we're doing?"

After a few seconds, Stan says, thoughtfully, "I do have something for you."

Kyle gives a nervous laugh. He thought right– it is what they're doing now. But did Stan think he had to now, because they're in a relationship, or does it feel more natural for him, and did he know what to get Kyle–– or is he overthinking it?

Because Stan is smiling, and then his shoulders are shaking, and then he's laughing. It's not mean–– but Kyle doesn't feel like he's in the know, either.

"What?"

"I have an idea for a gift," he says. "Or you could say–" he coughs surreptitiously, advancing on Kyle. "-a favour." Stan leans forward and tilts his chin into a lingering kiss.

Oh. Well.

When Kyle's done enjoying that, he says, "You dick. I'm trying to have a meaningful conversation here."

Stan blinks. "So am I," he says innocently. "Please respect my Christmas traditions, Kyle."

"Fuck off."

"Fine, what about Hanukkah?" Stan asks, still too close for comfort, and still with that trace of embarrassment around the edges of his voice.

"It's not even about presents," Kyle emphasises, rolling his eyes.

"You wouldn't be saying that if you knew what I was getting you," Stan says, the stare through his lashes over-the-top and playful. His arms circle Kyle, braced on the counter either side of him. Kyle's embarrassed to admit it still works. Some other feeling is decidedly overtaking his burgeoning hunger from the smell of donuts.

"What?" he demands, eyes level with Stan's.

Stan tilts his head back. "Well since you don't want them…"

"What?" Kyle breathes again, and finds himself hoping with only a little shame that the traffic is still hellish out there. He lets his hand wander in the vicinity of Stan's pelvis, come back up and stop flat above his stomach, close to his quickening heart.

"Well I was gonna blow you, um, eight times."

Kyle can't help how his eyes widen.

"For every day of Hanukkah," Stan says. His voice wavers with the effort not to laugh, "that's– that's how it works, right?"

Kyle collects himself before he can burst out laughing at the ridiculousness – not an easy task. He manages to smirk despite the heat pooling fast in his face from the, uh, generosity of Stan's gift idea. "So, is that my present or yours?"

Stan's expression remains remarkably cool at his retort; Kyle is surprised to read only a little embarrassment in it. Asshole. He coughs and smiles, leaning into Kyle, "Does it matter? It's the thought that counts, dude."

#sp style #my fic #style

35 notes · View notes

dramaticskeleton · 4 years

Text

Chapter 4: Weekend

Fancy:

In my 25 years, I’ve had one boyfriend, who turned out to be a grade A psychopath. I’ve had countless one-night stands since him. Some guys I’ve seen twice, or even three times. If anyone had told me a year ago that I’d be with the same person for five months, I’d say they were crazy. I wasn’t looking for anything serious. I didn’t want that. I didn’t need that.

Yet here is Freddy, who has become my exclusive partner. How the hell does something like this happen? Maybe it was because he made me breakfast that first morning. Or because he called me asking for a second night. And then a third. And a sixth. There was something about him that made me want more. Some impulse had told me to ask him to stay with me and I felt elated when he had actually come. Somewhere along the lines, our little fling had become something different and I’m not entirely sure it’s a bad thing.

I look at him now, sipping his tea, the steam rising up into his face. His hair falls into his eyes and I resist the urge to reach across the table and brush it out of the way. I have to resist doing a lot of things to him when we’re in public. I want to touch him all over. But it’s not just sexual. I want to kiss his cute upturned nose, hold his hand, and listen to him speak. God, if he could just talk to me for hours at a time, I’d be happy.

“Can I ask you something serious?” I ask, suddenly shy. He turns his vivid blue eyes to me, sparkling with amusement.

“Are you capable of being serious?”

I kick him under the table. “Shut up.”

“Ask away.”

“Do you like this?” I wave to the air between us. “What we’ve got going on?”

“Yeah, I think it’s good.”

“Do you want to take it further?”

Freddy bites his bottom lip before saying, “How do you mean?”

“Well, you’ve met my sisters. You’ve met my cousin. We’ve only seen each other for the last five months. I’m assuming.” I give him a look as if to confirm. He nods his head. “Is it safe for me to call you my boyfriend now?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Do you want to?”

“Well, I can’t very well call you my one-night stand forever, can I?”

He looks so uncomfortable that I’m afraid I’ve ruined things by asking. Maybe it would have been better to leave things as they were, without putting a label on them. I twirl the mug in my hands, waiting for him to respond.

“The last time I was that serious with a girl, it didn’t end well.”

“What happened?”

Freddy shrugs. “We were engaged.”

I gape at him. Of all things he could have said, that is the last thing I expected. “How is that not ending well? Isn’t that the goal?”

He gives me a withering look. “Well, we obviously didn’t get married, did we?”

“Sorry. Why not?”

“After I gave her the ring, she wouldn’t stop talking about our life together, and getting a house, and children.”

“As one does when they’re about to get married.”

The corner of Freddy’s lip twitches into a sad smile. “I realized I wasn’t ready for it. Not really. I thought I was, but I couldn’t stop thinking about…” he pauses, chewing on the inside of his mouth. He hesitates to continue. I reach for his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I just wasn’t ready to settle down yet. So I left her.”

“As simple as that?”

“Last time I talked to her was the night before I left. As far as I know, she’s still in France, so I can’t go back there. “

“Wait, did you tell her you were leaving?”

Freddy smirks. “No.”

“And you haven’t talked to her since?”

“Nope.”

I shake my head in disbelief. “You’re literally the worst kind of person.”

He watches me with a calculating gaze. “You still wanna call me your boyfriend?”

I think about it for a minute. Obviously he’s got commitment issues and there is a good chance he’ll do the same to me. And given my growing feelings for him, I don’t think I’d be able to handle that. But at the same time, I think even a few more months with him would be better than ending things now. Call me masochistic.

“It’s kind of hot,” I say finally. “A young, tortured, angsty soul. It’s the new thing.”

Freddy makes a face. “I’m 27.”

“A baby. I’ll call you my boyfriend as long as you promise not to ask me to marry you and I won’t talk about a future with you beyond nightclubs and dinner. Maybe breakfast. That seems to be the problem. Easy fix.”

He laughs, and the deep sound sends a shiver throughout my body. It sounds heavenly. “Okay,” he says, “I can agree to that.”

“However, I do have one question about our immediate future that I must know the answer to.”

“Does it involve you being pregnant?”

My eyes widen. “Absolutely not!”

“Then shoot.” He gives me an indulgent grin.

“Will you go to Christmas dinner with me?”

Freddy freezes as he lifts his cup to his lips again. He sets the mug down again slowly, watching me carefully. His mouth curls into a half smile. “That’s basically a proposal.”

I blush. “I mean, that was never in our bargain.”

“Fair.”

“But really, will you?”

“Why do you want to go? I thought you hated your parents.”

I fiddle with my fingers, running them along the rim of the mug, playing with the spoon, looking anywhere but at him. Why did I want to go? My parents had kicked me out of their home seven years ago when I had made the ultimate decision to pursue my own path, not theirs. I had always resented them for it. They were my parents; they were supposed to support me and help me, the same as they did my sisters. But I think of Mercy and Grace, who had been there for me even after I spent years raging at them when we were younger. They were always helping clean me up after I started going to clubs and fucking around. If they can bear to forgive me my mistakes, maybe I could do the same.

I look at Freddy, who’s still staring at me. I lick my lips, thinking of my words carefully. “I’ve been thinking about what you said in October. How I’ve got to forgive Mam and Da before I can go back to them. And I think it’s time I did. It’s just bad if I keep resenting her if she wants to put things to right. She’s trying to make an effort and I need to do the same. And I… I want to see my parents.” I blink back the tears that start to well up.

Freddy nods once. “Of course I’ll go with you.”

I give him a watery smile. “You’ll have to dress up in something better than jeans and a white tee.”

He rolls his eyes in response. “Do I have to wear a tie?” he asks with a smile.

I pretend to think about it. “I think you can leave it off.”

~~~~~

When we get home, I run up to my room to change. I had convinced Freddy to go to La Dame Rouge tonight and I needed to look good. Even if I wasn’t trying to score a date for the night, it would still be fun to dress up. We hadn’t been to a club in weeks. Another testament to how much our relationship had changed.

I clean my face and apply new makeup, giving my eyes a dark and sultry look. I choose a violently red lipstick to go with it. The combination is delectable, if I do say so myself. I move to my closet, picking a short black dress with long sleeves and my thigh high boots. I grin at my reflection. I would have the boys dropping at my feet, and I’d have the pleasure of turning them down. Call me a tease.

I make my way downstairs, stopping in the doorway to the kitchen. I find Freddy and Oliver standing unusually close together.

“Don’t,” Oliver is saying. I clear my throat and he looks at me over his shoulder. “Hi, Cici.”

Freddy looks around him and gives me a small smile. “You look gorgeous,” he says with a wink. I blush with delight.

Oliver snorts as he moves back to the table. “You look like a stripper.”

I take the seat across from him. He looks up from his phone, raising a brow. “I’m wearing far too much clothing for that,” I tell him. He makes a noise and rolls his eyes.

“Where are you two off to tonight?”

I turn around to look at Freddy. “I’m taking Freddy to La Dame Rouge.”

“Oh, that’s a good one.”

Freddy shoots a curious glance between the two of us. “What makes it so special?”

“It’s only the best club in Oxford!” I squeal. “It’s got the best music and the best drinks.”

“Not to mention,” Oliver adds, “The people. They either dress nice, or they dress like sluts. There’s no in between. It’s always interesting to see what people show up in.”

“Oh, that sounds… fun.”

I get up and sidle next to Freddy, planting a kiss on his cheek. “We’re going to have so much fun. Go on, get changed then.”

He smirks at me. “You’re dressed nice, so does that make me the slut in this relationship?”

I giggle and push him towards the stairs. Sitting back down, I find Oliver watching me closely.

“S,o it’s officially a relationship now?”

“Yeah, I asked him earlier, at the cafe.”

“Oh, you asked him?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Yes, is that a problem?”

“No, not at all,” Oliver shakes his head, frowning. “It’s nice to see you… settling. I was getting worried about you for a while there. I’m glad you found someone.”

I smile lightly. “Freddy’s a good guy. He makes me feel happy again. Truly happy.”

“Good.” I know he means it, even if he sounds lackluster about it. Oliver spent four years watching over me. I know the last two have been as hard on him as they have been on me and watching me spiral out of control and not being able to do anything about it must have killed him. I’m a bit ashamed, to be honest. But Oliver has been patient and understanding of it all, making sure I don’t fall too far. I probably wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for him.

I give him a sly grin. “Now it’s your turn to find someone.”

“This house is crowded enough with three people.”

“One more person won’t add too much.”

“You’d be surprised what four adults in one house are capable of.”

“Come with us tonight. You haven’t been with anyone in months! Not since Meghan.”

Oliver gives me a look with thinly veiled annoyance. “Your concern about my sex life is appreciated but unnecessary, thanks.”

“Come on,” I whine. “Just come to have fun then. When was the last time you weren’t working?”

Oliver just shrugs. “I’ve had a lot of clients recently. “

I look at him, taking in all of his features. His hair looks like he’s run his fingers through them hundreds of times just in the last hour. I note the bags under his eyes, and his gaze is dull. “You’re working too much. You look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m serious, come relax a bit with us tonight. For like, two hours. You can afford that, can’t you?”

“Why are you being so persistent?”

“I want to hang out with my cousin. Is that such a bad thing? I feel like I haven’t actually seen you in a while. Not since Freddy arrived.” I stop, a sudden suspicion clouding my mind. “You don’t like him.”

Oliver blinks at me. “He’s fine.”

“You’ve been avoiding us.”

“I haven’t.”

“What’s wrong with him then?”

“Nothing, there’s nothing wrong with him.”

I’d be inclined to believe him if it weren’t for the shifty look he gives me. “What were you talking about before I came down? You told him not to do something.”

“I was just telling him not to hurt you, is all.”

I roll my eyes. “You are such a terrible liar.”

Oliver shrugs his shoulders, looking down at his hands. “He looks like someone I used to know.”

“What, like an old boyfriend or something?”

He rubs his face and leans back in his chair. “What? No!”

My eyes flare wide. “He was, wasn’t he? Oh my god, I’m sleeping with your old flame, this is so weird.”

He stiffens, his eyes shut.

“Oliver!” I hiss, kicking at him.

Oliver runs his fingers through his hair with a sigh. “God, you’re incorrigible. Not everything is a drama like that. He’s just someone I went to school with.”

“Did you have thoughts about him in school?”

He glares. “Stop it.”

I smile a bit. “Jokes aside, was he a good person back then?”

“Yeah, he was decent. You couldn’t have found a better person to be with.”

I give Oliver a grin. “Fine, so you’re not avoiding Freddy. You don’t hate him. You’ve got no excuse not to come to the club tonight.”

“God, are we back to this? Okay, look, I’ll meet you at the club, okay? I just have to finish one last thing and then I’ll go. I promise.” He holds up his pinky finger.

I smile widely, taking it in my own. “You can’t break this.”

“I know the rules.” He glares at me for a second before pulling his hand back. “How are your sisters?”

I lift my shoulder nonchalantly. “Fine. I think Mercy’s pregnant.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I dunno, she looks fatter.”

Oliver spits his tea back into his mug, laughing. “What a horrible thing to say about your sister!”

“What? It’s a good thing! She’s fat because she’s pregnant. That’s good!”

“You can’t just call people fat, Cici!”

I pout, crossing my arms. “It’s not like I said it to her face.”

“Fucking good!”

A comfortable silence falls between us as Oliver finishes his tea. When he gets up to leave, he mumbles something about having to finish work and starts to walk out of the kitchen. As he reaches the stairs, I blurt out,

“Mam asked me to Christmas dinner.”

Oliver turns slowly and regards me with worry in his eyes. “Are you going?”

I nod. “I asked Freddy to come with me, because I don’t think I can do it alone, but I’m gonna go.”

Something like pain flashes across his face, so fast I wonder if I really saw it, before he says, “I’m glad.”

“What do I get them? I can’t show up empty handed.”

He shrugs and smiles at me before turning to leave. “Draw them something.”

I think of my drawing supplies, lying around to rot in my room. I haven’t touched them in nearly two years but maybe… maybe I could pick them up again. I could make a make a family portrait, something for both my parents and my sisters to enjoy. It will take me a while, since I’m so out of practice, but it’s a good time to start practicing. I’ll start tomorrow.

~~~~~

Freddy opted to match my black with black, wearing a tight fitted shirt and dark jeans. Maybe less dressed up than me, but I was okay with that. We have a quick smoke before going inside, the beat of the music loud enough to be felt as we lean against the walls of the building. I take in the site of Freddy standing in front of me, almost blending in with the shadows. He’s got his shoulders hunched against the cold as he puffs on the cigarette. His hair is brushed off to the side, making his face fully visible. He cuts a striking figure, dark and mysterious.

“You would make a good villain, I think,” I say to him. “You’ve got the right look.”

“I suppose that’s a compliment.”

“I’ve always liked the villain best.”

Freddy smirks and moves closer to me, pressing our bodies together. “The bad guy never gets the girl though.”

“Have you ever seen the women my age with novels? They, myself included, would give their right hand to be with the bad guy.”

“How about I give you my right hand instead?” He slips his hand down my back, landing on my ass and gives it a squeeze. I shriek in surprise, giving him a playful shove. His voice is sensual as he whispers in my ear, “I can do other things with it too.”

“Do you think of anything other than sex?”

He huffs a laugh and leans down. I can taste the nicotine on his breath as he kisses me. I let him into my mouth when he asks, running his tongue along my lips. It’s an effort not to melt as he explores me. I use the wall to support me. I start to grind against him, but he holds my hips in place. He starts to deepen the kiss, bringing his hands up to my face, but I pull away slightly. I’m panting a little bit as I say,

“Are you going to take me right on the street?”

“It’s called voyeurism,” he answers lazily, but he backs off. The smoke curls around his face as he takes a drag and exhales, and then he says, “I’ve been thinking about Oliver. What’s his story?”

I give him a look through half closed eyes. “Should I be jealous that you were thinking about my cousin while kissing me?” I laugh at his face. I continue, “You ought to know. Oliver said you guys were friends in school.”

Freddy’s face falls into a bemused expression. “Did he?”

“Oof, clearly not that good of friends. Don’t tell him you don’t remember him; he won’t take it kindly.”

He shakes head vigorously. “I don’t recall much past the last year, to be honest. So, tell me about this friend of mine.”

I laugh, resting my shoulder against the wall. “Well, he went to Goldsmiths’, obviously. Then he did a tour of Europe with a friend, but he ended up finishing it alone. He never said why, but I think it was a partner that left him.”

“That’s rough,” Freddy said, unusually soft.

“Yeah, he doesn’t talk about it much though, so I never got full details about what happened. And then his uncle on his dad’s side died a year later and left the house to him in his will.”

“Oh, is that where the gorgeous house comes from?”

“Yeah, it was lucky. I mean, not lucky that his uncle died, of course, but the house is a nice touch. He and I started talking again after I started living with my sister. I was looking for a new place to stay and he offered to let me live with him, so I took it up. I figured, a nice house, one of my favorite cousins, an artist like me. It was the perfect environment. And we’ve been here for four years now.” I smile at Freddy. “It’s been lovely. We had a rough patch about two years ago, but Oliver has always been there for me. He’s always cared about me.”

Freddy mumbles something under his breath that I don’t catch, but he’s got a smile on his face. “What’s he do?”

“He’s an interior designer. And I was talking to him earlier and he said he has a lot of clients right now, so he’s been busy. He hasn’t been avoiding you and he doesn’t hate you, in case you were worried.”

He shrugs. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Well, he thinks you’re great, and great for me, so you’ve got the Oliver seal of approval.”

“Wonderful, do I get a prize?”

I point to myself and waggle my eyebrows suggestively. Freddy laughs, dropping his cigarette butt and stamping it out with his foot. “Are you done?” he asks, pointing to the one in my hand. I let it fall to the ground too and slip my arm into his.

“Are you actually going to dance with me this time?”

“I don’t dance.”

“You did that first night,” I say, leaning into him. “And you were quite good too, as I recall.”

He shakes his head. “That was an exception. Besides, I like watching you seduce your way across the dance floor and then come back to me. Makes it look like I don’t even have to try hard to get you.”

I give him a light shove, but he pulls me back under his arm as we walk to the door. The man standing out front gives me a friendly nod.

“Hello Jordin,” I greet him.

“Haven’t seen you around in a while, Fancy,” he says.

“I found a new form of entertainment,” I respond. He gives Freddy a quick once over and hums approvingly.

“And what a fine form that is. You two enjoy your night.” Jordin waves us in.

The music hits us as soon as we walk through the doors. It slams into our eardrums with a steady deep bass beat and the lights flash in time with it. I can see the dance floor is already crowded. I’m getting excited already. I look at Freddy.

“Are you sure you won’t dance with me?”

He gives me a little push in the direction of the crowd. “Go, I’ll get us some drinks.”

I run to the floor and mingle with the people moving to the music. I don’t know what it is about dancing, but it lets me forget my world for a minute. Someone puts their hands on my hips and I let them move me in time with them. I don’t think about work, or my parents, or Christmas. It’s just me, the music, and this one other person. I turn around, coming face to face with a pretty blond. She gives me a smile as the tune changes and suddenly we’re throwing our hands in the air, laughing as people bump into us.

“You’re really pretty!” she shouts at me over the noise. Her words slur a bit.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” I reply.

“Do you wanna get a drink?”

I look over my shoulder, catching Freddy’s eye. I point to him. “I’ve got a date!”

The girl follows my finger and her eyes get wide. “Damn girl, that’s fair. I’d pick him, too.”

I move around people and on them. One guy tries to kiss me. Months ago, my first reaction would be to draw him off to the side with a flirtatious grin and convince him to take me home. But I ward him off with a finger and a shake of my head. After what feels like forever, I make my way off the floor, finding Freddy sitting in a lounge chaise by a window. He gives me an easy smile and holds out a glass to me. I take it from him and slide into his lap.

“Are you having fun, sitting in the corner alone?”

“I’ll have you know I’ve had at least four girls come up to me and try to get me to leave with them. It’s been entertaining. How are you doing?”

“My feet are killing me,” I say, running my hands through my hair. “I didn’t think my shoes through at all. But it’s been fun. I wish you would join me.”

I pout at Freddy, but he just shakes his head, smiling. I curl my feet up onto the chaise, taking a sip of my drink as I lean into his chest. It’s a rum and coke, my favorite. A little wave of pleasure spreads through me as Freddy runs his hand along my back. For a while, we’re content to just sit there, watching everyone else. I turn to ask him something and notice he’s playing with his necklace, a little coin with a symbol on it.

“What does it mean?” I ask, nodding to the chain. Freddy instantly stops fiddling with it and tucks it back under his shirt. He looks almost embarrassed.

“It’s just something stupid.”

I fish it out again, rolling the coin around my fingers. “I won’t laugh.”

He shifts uncomfortably under me. “It stands for love. A friend gave it to me years ago.”

I raise an eyebrow. “A friend, or a friend?”

“Someone very close to me.”

I drop the necklace. “Are you still close to them?” Freddy shakes his head silently. “Why do you wear it then?”

He shrugs weakly. “It’s sentimental. He meant a lot to me back then.”

I brush away the pang of jealousy that creeps into my heart as his words sink in. “He?”

Freddy blanches, looking like he wished he hadn’t said anything, but it’s out there now. I stare at him until he responds. He won’t look me in the eye.

“Yes, he,” Freddy finally says. “I used to have a boyfriend when I was in school. Is that going to be a problem?”

“No, no, I’ve got nothing against it. It just surprised me. Was it a real relationship or just an experimental one?”

He looks a bit sad as he reminisces. “It was real. It was perfect. But then I made a mistake and I left him. I haven’t seen him since.”

I use a finger to turn his face towards me, staring into his eyes. His pupils are large, making his eyes look dark in the lighting of the club. I kiss him gently on the lips. “Everyone makes mistakes, Freddy.”

“Mine seem to be exceptionally stupid.”

I hesitate before asking, “Would you go back to him? If you saw him again, I mean?”

Freddy gives me a glance out of the corner of his eye and snorts. “That’s an unfair question for my girlfriend to be asking me.”

“I’m not trying to start anything. I’m just curious. If it was that perfect, would you go back?”

“It wouldn’t be the same. A lot has happened since then, a lot of things I’m not proud of.”

“I mean, if things could be the way they were before you left.” I pause, then say quietly, “If I could go back to my ex when we were sixteen, I would. Back when things were good between us and everything seemed like it would work out. When things were good, they were really good. I always wonder what would have happened if nothing had changed and we were still that happy couple. How different would my life be?”

He’s quiet for a moment as he chews on his lip. “That’s the problem with ‘What ifs’, isn’t it? You get lost in the wondering. I constantly think about it. What if I hadn’t left. What if I’d listened to him, trusted him? I’d give anything to go back to that day and change what I did. But it’s no use wishing for something that can’t happen.”

I nod, resting my head against his shoulder. “As horrible as things get, I try to think about where I am now, and how I wouldn’t be where I am if those things hadn’t happened. It used to be shitty and I hated it. But I’m starting to like where I’m at now.” My hand bunches his shirt. He covers it with his own, kissing the top of my head.

I’m blissfully aware of Freddy’s arm around my body when I notice Ollie pushing his way through the crowd. I lift my head and start to smile at him, but it dies on my lips as I note his panicked expression.

“Cici,” he says when he gets closer. “We need to leave.”

I lift my head slightly, frowning. “What do you mean? You just got here.”

“Trust me, we have to go. Come on.”

I snuggle back into Freddy’s arms. “You promised you’d come out with us. You can’t just come for a minute and then leave.”

Oliver reaches to grab my shoulder but before he can touch me, I hear it. My name.

“Oh, Fancy!”

#love #relationships #Somethings about to happen #campnano #nano2020

3 notes · View notes

bijoulilou · 6 years

Text

After TWK part iii

It was surprisingly cool that evening, Jude observes, stepping out of Vivi's apartment. Tom waits patiently as she goes back inside to get a sweater. She reached to grab a slouchy sweater that was abandoned behind her bedroom door but Vivi stops her.

"You're not thinking of wearing that with your dress are you?" Vivi rummages through her clothes, then tosses her sister a denim jacket. It even smelled clean to Jude's surprise.

"I didn't think it was your style." Jude remarked. It didn't seem like Heather's either.

"Its not." Vivi didn't offer an explanation and Jude was in too much of a hurry to ask for one. She tossed her a pair of strappy sandals sandals but Jude declined. She tucked in the laces of her jet black boots to which Vivi nodded appreciatively.

"I'm almost jealous, i could never wear those. Steel toe and all. Very punk of you."

Jude paused, "is that a complement?" She turned to look at herself in Vivi's mirror. Heather had shown her how to apply liner and mascara to make here eyes look bigger. She even dusted the apples of her cheeks with a little color and added a little tint to her lips. Jude was strangely aware of her appearance and very nervous.

"You look great. Now go out there before he thinks you ditched him. C'mon Oak we have to pretend to do homework." Oak glared out the window, down at Tom. Resenting the day he pulled his prank, he scowled at the mortal instructor.

"Don't wait up, I'll be home in a couple of hours to check your homework. And if i forget Tom will tell me tomorrow!" Jude warned as she stepped over the threshold to join her date. When she left Oak stared up at his sister, Vivi.

"Isn't she married to King Cardan? Why is she spending so much time with him?" He holds his pencil tightly as he tries to start his homework. What was all this nonsense with adverbs anyway?

Viv sighed, the lives of her family members were unnecessarily complicated. "Well she is. But its more of a political agreement."

"Oh," Oak mused," I thought Jude was good at making those."

"What made you change your mind?" Vivi turns to the back of Oak's book and copies the answers for him. Making a mistake or two to make it inconsipicuous.

"Well she's here isn't she? I'm here to learn stuff and she's here because she made a mistake. Jude must not be good being tricksy as I thought."

Vivi laughs and ruffles Oak's hair. She wants him not say that around Jude or she won't let him stay up and watch tv anymore. Oak frowns.

"Then again, I don't think the King is good at being tricksy either. Every time I see him, he seems upset. Especially last Friday at paint night." Vivi freezes and stares at Oak, she asks what he means. Oak rolls his eyes, with all these adults around he figured that someone around here would a clue. "Yeah he was here. He talked to Tom and broke his phone. He asks me questions about us but mostly Jude. Sometimes he gives me gifts. He won't be happy that she wears some of them when she spends time with Mr. C."

Vivi stared out the window, she wondered if he was out there now. "Why didnt you say tell us about these secret meetings before? Did he tell you not to?"

Oak shakes his head, " I didnt think I had to. It wasn't anything important. It's not like he was a stranger." He looks at Vivi, "Can we order pizza?"

...

Tom is fumbling with his fork as Jude smiles up at him. She has a little tomato sauce from slurping her spaghetti. She's having too much fun to notice as Tom decides whether to tell her or reach forward and attempt to be romantic. He blushes at the thought and mumbles it instead. Jude dabs it away with her table cloth. Her dark hair moved to either side of her neck, soft waves that complement her olive skin.

"You look very pretty tonight." Tom confesses as the waitress refills their water glasses.

The waitress excuses herself as Jude meets his gaze, " Am I not as appealing any other night?" She's teasing. Tom's ears turn bright red and Jude can't help but revel in the satisfaction.

"Well I'm not sure, I haven't spent that many nights with you to get a general consensus."

Jude mockingly frowns, "General consensus? How many nights do you plan on spending with me?"

In a move that surprised both of them, Tom leans in, "As many as it takes."

She laughs, "Takes to what?" Her face gets a little closer.

"As many as it takes for you to want to spend more time with me." Without much thought Jude sits closer to Tom for the rest of the night. They discuss books. Some that Tom has never heard of but Jude assures him that they're foreign and hard to translate.

It's around closing time that they realize they've over stayed their welcome and leave to continue their date. Tom leads the way to find dessert, he gives Jude his elbow and she happily takes it. As Tom recites poetry from John Keats, enticing Jude with every word a dark figure closes in on them listening to every word.

The Roach had dreaded every moment of tonight, nothing had gone according to plan. Well in his defense, this plan didn't have the consent of the key part of it, the Queen of Elfame. Jude was supposed to end the night early because it had gotten too cold. A courtesy of little magic breeze that only followed then because Van followed them. The food at the table wasn't supposed to be appetizing because he had glamoured the busboy who took out the trash to go back inside and add too much garlic to their food. He even burned their bread. The waitress spilled their drinks, but since it was only water it didn't bother them. As the mortal man wooed his friend with words of promise and romance, Van shivered in disgust. The King was not going to like any of this.

"How is it going?" A voice calls from the shadows and Van turns to see the Bomb step out them. He shakes his head. "That bad?" She leans against the same tree as him to watch.

"They seem to be having a quaint little date." He sighs and takes a bottle of wine from his coat and gives it a swig. He needed something stronger than this.

"That doesn't sound so bad." She takes the bottle out of his hand and takes a drink. Van gives her a look. "What? You cant expect her to sit at home and cry. That's not the Queen we know." Liliver uses their old codename for her.

"Not cry but plot perhaps. That's what she's good at, plotting."

"How do you know she's not getting back at the King for exiling her by dating a human? You don't know Jude like I do." She juts her chin out as Jude nestles up in a little corner of the cafe. Her date brings her two steaming warm mugs topped with whip cream. Jude's face breaks into unfamiliar warmth. Liliver chokes on the wine.

"That doesn't seem like plotting to me. But I have to agree with you, she isn't idly going to sit by and be shamed by Ol' Silver Lips in front of all of Faerie. He knows that too."

"Oh yes , Ol' Silver Lips is well aware of his former seneschal's habits." A cool voice says behind them.

Van sprays wine everywhere, a couple of humans turn to see but it's too dark to make out what's happening. Van and Liliver look around, knowing that voice too well. Cardan throws an acorn from atop the tree they're leaning up against. Where he got the acorns they don't know. Liliver snickers, not even embarrassed to be overheard. She pulls down her hoodie to reveal her white misty hairy and Van grunts, annoyed.

"Your majesty, isn't it unsafe to be far from the kingdom right now? Surely your absence is a miss at some revelry." Van asks, not an ounce of cordial professional in his voice.

Cardan chuckles and throws another acorn at him. It smarts his ear and he hisses at the bite of it.

"No revelry or orgies. As far as anybody else knows I'm in the strategy room with my new advisors. They both look at him questioningly and he sighs," Its you two. Obviously. Congratulations you've been promoted"

"Does it come with a salary raise?"

"If Jude kisses that mortal it doesn't. Consider a demerit coming your way." He reaches out for his turn with the wine as Van hands it to him with a confused glower. "Oh you'll see."

As Van tries to point out the ways he tried to sabotage Tom and Jude's evening, Cardan counts. He counts the many times Tom and Jude smile at one another, when they laugh, when they bat their eyelashes at one another. Soon the bottle of Wine is gone and Van leaves to get another one from a restaurant.

.....

Jude's cheeks hurt from smiling. Whenever the tips of Tom's mouth turn up, her's just seem to follow. When she doesn't know what to say she just nods or furrows her brow. She found it difficult to behave like a typical mortal should. Maybe it was all that time she in faerie and trying to not be seen and keeping her emotions in check. Tom was the complete opposite of that experience. Every moment was narrated by his expressions, his excitement drawn back with his eyebrows or anxiousness highlighted by the twiddling of his thumbs. In a strange way it was beautiful. She observed him as a child would a newborn, in absolute awe.

Tom talked with his hands, maybe it was the coffee or the fact that he couldn't help it. He tried to describe to her the castles he visited in Europe while he was writing his thesis on William Blake. His hands echoed the open halls of the abandoned fortresses and the decaying moss covered stone that held it together. He tried to bring to life his stagnant memories of the open vastness of wilderness that enveloped around it. He said all this hoping to impress her but instead got swept up in reminisces of it all. Little did he know how acquainted she was castles and dwellings of this kind but instead of solitude she was met with a thriving brilliance the like he's never seen. The kind of normalcy that Jude had lived up until this point was stuff of nightmare and fantasy, the kind of scenery that filled up his books and poetry.

When Tom talked of things that excited him, it merely reminded Jude of the fire she once had. Of the now muted hunger that she once carried in her belly. For a moment she got experience that bit of excitement once again.

Tom looks at the clock and her eyes follow, it's late. He has to teach class in the morning, Jude understands and gets up. Tom asks if he could walk her home, she nods. As they walk their hands and elbows bump against each other. Jude clears her throat at the awkwardness and brings her cold hands together to make them warm. Tom, in unlikely bold move, takes them and runs them against his for friction and warmth. Jude thanks him and doesn't let go of his hand as he walks her home.

At the foot of the steps near her front door, he bids her good night. He looks at her, with a question in his eyes and she reaches up on tiptoes to kiss him.

At that very moment, somewhere in the shadows. Cardan Greenbriar's heart broke.

150 notes · View notes

katecarteir · 6 years

Text

does it almost feel like (you’ve been here before)

Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier (Reddie) | Explicit | 4.6k

Prompt: Reddie + Two Miserable People at a Wedding. Part one of the Connection Series

Richie had no goddamn idea what he was doing here. After the Incident five years ago, Richie had cut himself off from all the other Losers, excluding Stan- who simply had not allowed it. He could not think of any reasonable explanation to why he was currently standing in a huge reception hall, after having watched his ex-best friend marry the woman he’d started sleeping with while Richie had still been dating her.

Richie had been sure when he’d gotten the invitation that it had been mis-addressed. So sure, in fact, that he’d called Stan to laugh about it. That hadn’t exactly been a pleasant phone call. “He’s extending an olive branch,” Stan had said patiently. “We miss you, and we’re tired of you shutting us all out. You didn’t even come to Beverly’s promotion party last month. She cried, Richie.”

“Well, it’s her party. She can cry if she wants to,” Richie tried to joke but it had fallen flat. He ran his fingers through his hair, and sighed into the landline. “Look, dude, it’s been five years, you know? This is just the way things are now. Why can’t they accept that?”

“Because it doesn’t have to be this way,” Stan had said. “At least think about coming.”

So here Richie was, and he was just as miserable as he’d expected to be. Stan and Mike had greeted him more than enthusiastically, but Bev and Ben had both openly shunned him despite Stan’s claims that they’d missed him so dearly. Richie hadn’t even seen Bill yet, and he was deeply considering just leaving before that had a chance to happen.

A low whistle from behind him made Richie’s heart jump as he turned around. Eddie Kaspbrak was walking towards him, hands tucked into the pockets of his suit, and maybe he was the most beautiful Richie had ever seen. He’d always had a soft spot for Eddie Kaspbrak, he could admit that much as much as he’d once pretended not to. It had never seemed all that mutual, of course, with Eddie always brushing off Richie’s attempts at flirting. He’d also been the first person to stop trying to include Richie in plans after his following out with Bill- as in, he’d never tried at all. Richie was never sure whether to resent it or be thankful for it.

None of it mattered now, with the way Kaspbrak was looking him up and down. Eddie finally looked to Richie’s face and raised his wine glass up to his lips, sipping slowly. Richie swallowed roughly, not sure what the fuck was happening.

“Looking good, Tozier.” Kaspbrak finally said, grinning. “Been awhile.”

“Likewise,” Richie said with a flick of the tongue against his bottom lip. Richie may be feeling seven levels of out of place right now, and more than a little bit confused, but if there was one thing Richie Tozier knew how to do: it was put on a show. He moved to lean against the world, and he didn’t imagine the way Kaspbrak leaned closer to him. “The last five years have been good to you, Kaspbrak.”

Eddie hummed, sipping his drunk again, and reaching out to squeeze at Richie’s bicep through his suit jacket. “Better to you, I see. How have you been?”

Richie rolled his eyes, suddenly so-not surprised that this was where this conversation was going. It was just like the Losers to send Eddie to ease (i.e trick) Richie into talking about something he didn’t want to- it was been a very regular tactic within their group growing up- but Eddie’s throwing in the flirting had been just different enough to toss Richie off the scent. It was a low blow, though maybe Eddie didn’t know that.

“Oh fucking fantastic, you know,” Richie took a step away from Eddie and shaking his head. “I love having my best friend fuck my girlfriend and then loosing all the people I called friends in one swoop. It really gets me going.”

Eddie’s eyes blew wide open, then hardened. “You’re the one who you packed up your shit in the middle of that night, moved out to California and never talked to anybody except Stan again. You cut everybody out, not the other way around!”

“Well, I’m sorry I didn’t want to stay around and have to pretend that I was okay with what Bill did just because he’s Bill.” Richie said, wishing that he had a drink. Wishing for the first time in years that he had a drink. He knew his wants must have been obvious on his face, or maybe he’d just looked at the drink table a little too long, because all of the anger from Eddie’s face was suddenly gone and his hand was back on Richie’s arm.

“Come on, Rich, let’s get out of here.” Eddie said, voice casual but there was little hint of desperation on his face that Richie could only see from knowing him from childhood. Eddie had grown up and gotten good at hiding back his feelings, but nobody could hide everything.

“You don’t need to do this, Eds.” Richie said, knowing how pathetic he sounded but being unable to help himself. “Tell whoever put you up to this that you tried and I wouldn’t bite. Go enjoy the party.”

“You think somebody is making me talk to you?” Eddie asked him, voice lowering as hurt spread across his face. “Richie, did it ever occur to you that I maybe just hadn’t seen my friend in years, and wanted to know how he was doing?”

Richie raised his brow and Eddie sighed. “Okay, fine. I saw you standing across the room and thought you looked hot as shit. I was half way over to you when I realized it was you. But I could’ve turned around and didn’t- mind you. It actually kind of made me want to talk to you more.”

Richie pressed his hand to his chest and through on some theatrics. “My dear lord, my Eddie Spaghetti thinks I am hot? Hold the presses, this is breaking news-”

“Shut up, Trashmouth!” Eddie said, cheeks blushing as he whacked at Richie’s chest. “I always thought you were hot- even when you had braces and those ugly fucking glasses.”

“I…” Richie blinked, feeling his own cheeks begin to flush. “Well, there’s no accounting for taste, Eds.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, but he also kind of nodded, too. A burning curiosity suddenly settled in Richie’s gut.

“Hey, Eds…” He said slowly. “How come you never tried to get to me to come back? Everybody else did.”

Eddie looked at Richie for a long time, taking another sip of his wine as he mulled over his thoughts. “Well, probably because everybody was… I knew the more they tried to force you to come back, the further you were going to run. I was just giving you the time to come back on your own.”

Richie and Eddie held eye contact for a long moment before Richie cleared his throat. “And here I am.”

Eddie smiled. “Here you are.”

Richie couldn’t help but chuckle slightly, ducking his head into Eddie’s space. He hadn’t been this close to Eddie Kaspbrak in much longer than five years. It may actually be nearing on ten years since Richie and Eddie stood close enough to one another that their faces were at a risk of touching. A certain party in high school… a certain closet… and one person believing that feelings flowed both ways had put a wrench in between Eddie Kaspbrak and Richie Tozier that Richie hadn’t thought would ever have been able to be fixed.

The way Eddie was looking at him now, though, it was sort of like none of that mattered anymore. And it did, the rejection in high school mattered. It had been the first step in many that had lead Richie down the road he was on now, the isolation he’d chosen for himself. Richie has always been a social person, until he realized that there wasn’t an point in constantly being surrounded by people when he still felt alone the whole time.

The way Eddie was looking at him now, though, Richie was willing to forget it for now. The look in Eddie’s eyes, the small smile on his face, Richie was ready to toss away everything he’d ever known and be as stupid as seventeen year old with high hopes again. Richie took another step closer towards Eddie, testing the waters. That had been his utter downfall last time, jumping right into the deep end and assuming Eddie would swim, too.

But Eddie tilted his head up towards him, eyes fluttering shut for a moment, while he smiled softly. “Richie…” Eddie breathed out softly, his words dancing over Richie’s face. “Are you sure you don’t wanna get outta here? Because I’m supposed to be stay at Bill’s tonight….” Eddie looped his fingers into Richie’s belt loops and tugging him against his body. “But aren’t you staying in the hotel upstairs? I hear it’s nice. Can you show me?”

Richie blinked once, twice, then broke into a large smirk. Admittedly, it had been awhile since Richie had hooked up with somebody. Right after he and his girlfriend- Bill’s wife- had broken up, he’d whored himself out more than he probably should have. He wouldn’t hold it against himself, he’d started dating his first year of college- fresh off an Eddie Kaspbrak heart break- and had been with her exclusively since. It was the fooling around that he’d never had in college, he told himself whenever it happened. The affect had worn off since then, and it might have been upwards of years since Richie had gotten fucked. And here was Eddie- the boy who had once been his biggest wet dream- offered it up.

Maybe they’d wake up in the morning, and Richie would go back to Cali with nothing but a linger of Eddie on his lips. And he could tell himself that that was okay. Because at least he could finally feel as though all this bullshit wasn’t absolutely for nothing. He’d get a little something out of it.

“Darling,” Richie hummed, letting his face press against his Eddie’s cheek. He nudged his ear with his nose, then tugged on it with his teeth. He grinned as he felt Eddie shiver against him. “I can show you so much more than just my room. There’s a balcony. Got a great view.”

“Richie…” Eddie said, his voice almost a whine, his hands squeezing at Richie’s hips. Richie chuckled, letting their hips and chest press together. He nuzzled against Eddie’s neck, and with a rush of adrenaline, he nipped at his skin. Eddie bucked against Richie, and rocked his hips once more against him. “Richard. Get me out of here.”

“Gladly, babe.” Richie let Eddie turn around, hands still resting on his hips, as he guided them towards the exit. He glanced over his shoulder, catching Stanley’s eye. Stan nodded once, pressed a finger to his nose then pointed to a finger gun to Richie. Richie return the gesture then turned the corner out of the grand room.

He and Eddie walked side by side in silence all the way until the elevator until from the hotel’s ballroom where the reception was being held to the rooms on the upper floors. The second the elevator doors had closed and Richie had punched in his floor number, Eddie was pushing on Richie’s chest and pushing him up against the back wall. Richie tilted his head down and waggled his brows.

“Really desperate for it, Eds?” Richie teased, pressing his teeth slightly into his bottom lip just for the reaction of Eddie’s pupils dilating and him struggling to meet Richie’s gaze.

“Shut up,” Eddie said, shoving Richie’s suit jacket open and fisting at his dress shirt. He let out a slow breath. “I’ve been wanting this since high school. I think I’ve earned a little desperation.”

Richie frowned, he couldn’t help it because… “You could have had it in high school. I feel like I made that more than clear, Eds.”

An odd look crossed Eddie’s face- some sort of mixture of sadness and remorse- and he finally let his eyes catch Richie’s. “I know. I’m sorry, Rich. I was just a little asshole.”

“You were always a little asshole,” Richie shrugged, smiling down at Eddie. “I like you anyway.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide, and Richie’s quickly follow. Like you, not liked you. A very simple slip of the tongue, but it gave the whole conversation and everything that might happen after this a rather different meaning. Richie raked his brain, trying to think of some sort of joke or anything to play off the tension, but Eddie was grabbing hold of Eddie’s face and pulling him down to press their lips together.

Richie let out a soft laugh as Eddie’s lips moved against his, arms coming up to rest on Eddie’s waist and pull him in. Eddie laughed right back against him, rocking his hips forward into Richie and Richie knew that he was in for a long night. As the elevator dinged, Eddie pulled back and pulled Richie out by taking hold of his belt and tugging.

They stumbled quickly down the hall, Richie guiding them to his room. Richie had Eddie pressed against the door as he unlocked it, while Eddie pressed long open-mouthed kisses to his neck. He hissed and nearly dropped the key card when Eddie bit down and sucked harshly on the skin. “Jesus, Eds..” Richie groaned as he finally got the door open, quickly gripping Eddie’s hips so he didn’t tumble backwards into the room. “You’re going to kill me.”

“No.” Eddie pulled Richie closer to him, and smiled at him from under his lashes. “I’m going to take care of you.”

Richie closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing slightly. He felt himself stumble, as Eddie lead them through the room. He turned Richie around and pushed him down on the bed. Climbing up, Eddie pressed his legs on either side of Richie’s hips and grinned down at him. Richie felt his cock twitching and was almost embarrassed. Nothing had even happened.

“Do you have stuff?” Eddie asked, running his hands up Richie’s chest and pealing his suit jacket off him completely. “Lube? Condoms?”

Richie nodded, tossing his head back against the pillows as Eddie began to slowly unbutton his dress shirt. “In my suitcase.”

Normally, the answer would have been no. Richie had long since stopped carrying those things around, but he’d told himself that if he was going to go his ex-girlfriend’s wedding to the man who cheated he cheated on him with, then he sure as hell was going to get laid by somebody.

This was a little bit more than he’d anticipated, but he sure as hell wasn’t complaining.

Eddie smiled softly, this face letting through the same innocence that he’d once held growing up and Richie wanted to rip that innocence way. Before he got the chance, Eddie was finally opening his shirt and sliding it off him. Eddie leaned down, pressing one kiss to Richie’s neck, before taking Richie’s nipple between his teeth and tugging on it slightly.

Richie let out a loud- loud- embarrassing noise, and clapped a hand over his mouth in horror. Eddie looked up at him through his lashes, Richie being able to feel him smirking against his skin. “Suh-sorry…” Richie breathed out, tossing his head back and closing his eyes. “It’s been a long time.”

“How…” Eddie pulled back, resting above Richie on his elbows. He took Richie’s chin in his hands and pulled his face back to look at him. “How long has it been, Richie? Last I heard you were whoring yourself out to half the population of California?”

There wasn’t any judgment in Eddie’s voice, it was a genuine question. Richie laughed, and slid his fingers through Eddie’s hair. Eddie’s eyes fluttered closed and Richie could almost imagine him purring. “Yeah? And the last you heard I was probably also drinking myself to an early grave and dappling in cocaine.”

Eddie looked at Richie, giving a small bashful smile. He stroked his thumb against Richie’s cheek, and nodded. “Well…” Richie continued. “I haven’t done those things in years”

“Years?” Eddie asked, eyes going wide. He breathed out slightly, and for a terrifying moment, Richie thought he might leave. He was seconds away from grabbing at Eddie’s waist, when Eddie leaned forward and kissed him. Richie brought his arms up around Eddie’s middle and dug his nails in.

Panting, Richie started tugging and pulling on Eddie’s tuxedo jacket and tried to ignore the only hours ago Eddie had been the best man in a wedding that made Richie’s skin crawl. All the more reason to get it off him.

Eddie detached their lips, shucking the jacket off and tossing it somewhere onto the floor. Running his fingers through his own fringe, Richie licked his lips as Eddie quickly unbuttoned his dress shirt and dropped it from his body. Richie reached his suddenly trembling hands up and ran them up Eddie’s heated torso. Eddie looked down at him with twice as heated eyes, before leaning over the side of the bed and pulling the lube and condoms from Richie’s suitcase. He tossed them onto the blankets a promptly forgot about them.

Richie hadn’t even realized he was already hard until Eddie licked a strip up his happy trail and he felt his cock convulse in his now much too tight suit pants. “Fuck, Richie…” Eddie sighed, running his fingers through the hairs there, but thankfully not pulling on them. “You’re telling me you haven’t had sex in years? That’s…. cruel.”

Richie chucked, running a hand over his face. “When I got out of rehab and started my counselling, one of my challenges was to be completely celibate for six months because I was using sex as a vice as much the drugs and alcohol. After the six months were up, I wasn’t involve din the club or bar scene anymore so the opportunities just didn’t come my way anymore.”

Too much, too much, too much. Richie knew it the second the words left his mouth. Curse Eddie Kaspbrak and his secret talent of getting Richie to spill his guts. Even Stan didn’t know that Richie had checked himself into rehab all those years ago, just that he’d decided to clean his act up. This sort of admission could very well knock the entire night off course, and Richie would have nobody to blame but himself.

But Eddie just pressed a soft kiss to Richie’s navel and started undoing his belt. Whether Eddie was really good a friend, or if he was just that desperate to get laid, Richie wasn’t sure but he was going to roll with it.

Eddie pulled the belt free and made quick work of the buttons on Richie’s suit pants, yanking them down and off in one quick swoop. Eddie- honest to God- licked his lips as Richie’s cock sprung up against his stomach and Richie figured then that he must have died and this was his heaven.

Eddie danced his finger tip against the head of Richie’s cock, just the barest of touches, teasing and no satisfaction. Richie whined and bared his hips upwards. “Eddie… Eds… please touch me. Fuck.”

“Don’t worry,” Eddie said and his voice was low, so fucking low that if Richie hadn’t already been painfully hard already that would’ve done it for him. “I’m gonna take care of you, Rich. I told you. Just relax.”

Richie tried to force himself to relax, chest still heaving and cock still aching. Eddie pressed soft kisses down his length as he wiggled down the bed, spreading his legs apart and settling between them. Richie’s breath hitched and goddamn, he was positive now that Eddie’s plan for the night was to kill him.

Eddie wrapped a hand around Richie’s thigh and heaved it up to rest over his shoulder. He pressed both hands to Richie’s ass and squeezed lightly. Richie moaned, more of a whimper but he wanted to give himself the dignity to say it was a moan, and rocked down closer to Eddie’s hands. “Come on… please…”

“It’s okay,” Eddie whispered, pressing a kiss to Richie’s ass cheek. Then another. Then another. And then..

“FUCK!” Richie cried as Eddie’s lapped over his hole. He let out a pitiful cry as Eddie moved his face away, latching his legs tighter around Eddie’s shoulders and gripping his hair in his fists. Eddie let out a breathless laugh, and pressed a single kiss to his rim. He moaned as Eddie began to flick his tongue against his entrance.

Richie rocked back against Eddie, essentially riding his tongue, and his fingers twitched. He hadn’t even untangled them from Eddie’s hair to reach up and touch himself yet, when Eddie was pulling away and pushing Richie’s arms against the mattress on either side of his hips.

Eddie’s wiped his mouth with the back of his arm and Richie moaned once more. This was so far from the little germaphobe that Richie had run around with growing up, and it filled Richie with too much fondness for the circumstances.

Eddie slid his hands up and down Richie’s thighs. “Thought I said I was going to take care of you, Richie… Would you rather do it yourself? Should I leave?”

“No!” Richie cried, and he sounded panicked. He could hear it in his voice, and he could see it in the way Eddie raised his eyebrows. Could feel it in the way Eddie squeezed his thighs. “Please, please don’t go. I… stay, Eds. Please?”

“Yeah…” Eddie’s voice broke a little bit. “Yeah, Rich. I will. I’m not going anywhere.”

Richie breathed out and lifted his hands up. He pressed one on either side of Eddie’s face, and pushed them together until Eddie’s face squished up. Eddie swatted Richie away, giggling, and then quickly climbed back up his body.

Eddie knocked their noses together, the two of them sharing air. Prolonged eye contact usually made Richie’s skin crawl, but he found right now that he couldn’t look away. Their foreheads rested together, and Eddie thumb was pressing light circles against Richie’s cheek. Richie was aware of Eddie’s free hand moving through the blankets and Richie’s heart lurched.

“Eds…” Richie sighed out. “I… I wanna see you.”

Eddie blinked, then grinned. The lube was forgotten once again as Eddie took hold of Richie’s hands and moved them to the buckle of his belt. Richie frantically moved to pull the belt from the loops and toss it away. Yanking Eddie’s pants open and off, Richie shoved at Eddie’s stomach until he fully hovered above Richie on his knees. Richie wrapped his arms around Eddie’s thighs, and started mouthing at the hard outline of Eddie’s cock through his briefs.

Eddie tossed his head back and moaned, pushing his fingers through Richie’s mop of curls, and letting himself get lost in the teasing. Richie ran his hands up and behind Eddie’s thighs, leaving open mouthed kisses until Eddie’s underwear was soaked with a mix of saliva and pre-cum. “Eds…” Richie moaned out, nuzzling against Eddie’s bulge and kissing at it softly. “Can I suck you off?”

Eddie moaned as Richie snapped the band of his briefs against Eddie’s waist. He cupped Richie’s chin and nudged it to look up at him. Richie’s eyes were black with arousal and Eddie let out a groan that was almost a growl at the sight. “Richie… normally there is no way in hell I’d refused that but…” Eddie cleared his throat roughly. His thighs were starting to shake. “But I think I’m quite literally dying to fuck you right now so if we could just… Can we just…?”

Richie nodded quickly, tossing himself back against the pillows so that his curls spread out across the pillows. Eddie held both his hands against Richie’s stomach and took a long, deep breath. After his moment, Eddie pulled his wet briefs off and sent them joining the pile of clothing on the floor.

Eddie grabbed the bottle of lube and squinted it onto his fingers, spreading it for warmth. Richie let out a small squeak from the back of his throat, arm coming out to dig his nails into Eddie’s thigh. Eddie quickly learned down, careful not to let his sticky fingers touch the blankets, and ran his tongue along Richie’s bottom lip. Richie whined as he felt Eddie’s finger press against his rim.

The preparation process maybe moved a little bit faster than Eddie would have liked, but at this point it wasn’t just something that had been drawn out for hours… it was something that been drawn out for years. Maybe that was his fault (no, it was. It was without a doubt, his fault.) but he would truthfully expire on this hotel mattress if it didn’t happen soon.

He stretching three fingers inside Richie, who had a death grip on his biceps and tears in his eyes. “Eddie… Eddie, fuck… Fuck me please. Please, please. I’m ready, fuck me, fucking fuck…”

“Okay, okay, Rich. I got you,” Eddie breathed out, pressing a kiss to Richie’s forehead. He slipped his fingers got, wincing at how Richie whined in displeasure. “I got you.”

He grabbed the bottle of lube and slicked up his cock after rolling the condom down his length. Richie’s watery gaze didn’t waver as he watched Eddie line up with his hole. Eddie pushed in slowly, but bottomed up without stopping. Once Eddie was fully inside, Richie let out the type of moan that most definitely belong in a porn.

“Holy fuck…” Eddie whispered, clutching at Richie’s leg and drawing it over his shoulder. He could tell already that he wasn’t going to last- but like hell he wasn’t going to get Richie there first. Pulling all the way out slowly, then thrusting back in hard, Eddie relished the way Richie squeaked out of his name and squeezed his eyes shut. Keeping up the same speed, he watched as the tears that had built up in Richie’s eyes fall down his face while he moaned loud enough that if anybody was staying in the rooms on either side of them, they were getting a free audio show.

“Eddie… Eddie… Eddie…” Richie was chanting and the way clench around Eddie’s cock every time he went to pull out had his head spinning. Eddie pulled his cock free, ignoring how Richie gasped then let out a slightly panicked whine. Eddie held tight to Richie’s hips as he rolled onto his back and pulled Richie above his waist.

He positioned his cock at Richie’s hole once more and thrust up, filling him completely. “FUCK!” Richie shouted as though it had been punched right out of him. “Holy shit, Eds. So deep…”

Eddie positioned his feet on the bed and started thrusting into the man above him. Richie rocked forward, hands wrapping around Eddie’s neck and he cried out against Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie picked up a pace that he was knew was borderline brutal, his hands surely leaving bruises on Richie’s hips. He could feel himself burning up from the inside out. “Touch yourself,” He hissed against Richie’s ear, tugging it with his teeth.

“Don’t…” Richie moaned helplessly. “Don’t need to… Don’t need….” That seemed to be all Richie could get out before Eddie was aware of the thick wetness spreading between them, and Richie’s fingers dragging scratches on the back of his neck. Eddie only managed other thrust into Richie before he was coming hard into the condom.

“Fuck….Richie.” Eddie whispered. He felt Richie shift to get up, and grabbed his arms tightly around Richie’s waist. Holding him there. He pressed his face against Richie’s collar bones and told himself that if his eyes were closed, then there couldn’t be tears in them.

xxx

When Richie woke up, he was alone and sore in a hotel bed. He rolled over, pulled his phone out and searched up the earliest flight to California.

#reddie #reddie fic #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #my writing #connection verse

84 notes · View notes

auroraphilealis · 6 years

Text

Ready to Let Go (3/?)

Ready to Let Go (3/?) | Dan doesn’t want to go to India in February, just before Valentine’s Day, with his increasingly homophobic parents. He doesn’t want to be a lawyer, or settle down with some pretty girl one day. Dan wants to spend Valentine’s Day with Phil. He wants to be an entertainer. And he sure as hell plans on marrying Phil one day. But more than any of that, Dan just wants be himself. He wants to be happy. Sequel to Too Tense to Be Undone. | Phan | Explicit | Homophobia, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Growing Up, Explicit Smut, Rough Sex, D/S Undertones, Love Making, Rimming, Multiple Orgasm, Blowjobs, Skype Sex | 13,017 Words This Chapter

Thanks to @imnotinclinedtomaturity because she’s amazing and loves me a lot. But no, really, she always helps me so much to feel more confident in my writing, and is often the encouragement I need to keep going. Also thank you to everyone who messaged me tonight when I asked for you to cheer me on, that was WONDERFUL. You’re all good beans.

To the rest of my readers, thank you for being patient while waiting for this update. My friends were visiting from out of state AND out of country the last week and a half, and I was soaking up every second I could get with them because it was our first time meeting irl, so I didn’t try too hard to write in that time. Thankfully, I mostly just needed to edit, so the chapter is finally here! Not quite what you’re all expecting, but I think you’re going to like it regardless ;)

(Also, yes, I researched this chapter, and what Phil does IS possible, and olive oil really is a safe-ish alternative for lube, as long as you clean up.)

(Ao3 link) (Previous)

For a long while, Dan felt too content with Phil's cock buried deep inside of him, and Phil’s body braced over his, to pay attention to the way the rest of his body was beginning to ache. Eyes closed, Dan found himself breathing in Phil’s scent, not caring about the cramping in his legs, or the fact that he could feel his body slipping from the table. Phil’s hips were the only thing keeping him in place, shaking a bit against Dan’s thighs, but managing to hold both him, and Phil, up.

It was such a wonderful state to be in that Dan didn’t want to move.

Eventually, however, his own limbs started to shake, and the ache in his bum and his back, became too much. Groaning softly, Dan opened his eyes, and bowed his back up in an attempt to get Phil’s attention, dragging their wet chests together. His legs fell from where he’d hoisted them up around Phil’s hips, and he whined when that only caused his body to start shifting even further down the kitchen table.

Dan’s movements roused Phil, eliciting a deep groan. Phil repositioned his hips, pulling out of Dan. Dan winced as the movement sent an aching flare up his back, and adjusted himself a bit to accommodate it. His own movement, combined with Phil pulling out, caused a domino effect, and before Dan knew it, he could feel Phil’s come beginning to drip free from his body. Dan tensed instinctively, body clenching down to keep the liquid inside of him. He wanted to hold onto Phil as long as he could.

On shaking legs, Phil relocated his hands under Dan’s thighs, and helped him to move so he was laying all the way back on the kitchen table. Sighing in appreciation of Phil’s efforts, Dan let his eyes drift closed again, and his body properly relax. He could feel the ache of the forming bruises on his neck, his chest, and his ribs.

Every single fiber of him felt alive, and it was the best sensation Dan had ever felt.

Phil was moving around. Dan could hear him trying to find his balance before he finally seemed to fall forward, shaking hands finding Dan’s hips. Dan cracked his eyes open, surprised at how unsteady Phil seemed, and felt heat fill his stomach with desire at the sight in front of him.

Phil’s head was hung low between his shoulders, fringe hanging right in his eyes, as he panted. Dan could still see the thick rim of his black glasses framing his face, and the sight was intoxicating. Phil really, really looked good in his glasses. Dan needed to make sure Phil wore them more often. He would say always, but Dan wasn’t sure he had the self control for Phil to always be in glasses.

Phil was also covered in sweat, and Dan could see Phil shaking just as much as Dan was, something that made Dan’s heart leap in joy. He’d made Phil feel just as good as Phil had made him feel, and in the end, that was all that Dan could really ask for.

It took a moment, but eventually, Phil looked up and caught Dan’s eye.

Something about his expression still echoed the heartbreak Dan had seen earlier, but the anger was gone. The tear stains from Phil crying were still wet on his cheeks, glistening a little from the glare of the sun streaking in from the window behind him. Heart aching at the sight, Dan reached up to wipe the trails away, and cupped Phil’s cheek when he was done.

Not sure how else to comfort his boyfriend, Dan merely offered him a soft smile, and managed to croak out, “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Phil replied. He still sounded hoarse and a little breathless, but his body wasn’t shaking so hard anymore, and he wasn’t panting so hard that it was the only sound Dan could hear.

Slowly, the heartbreak made way for a gentle smile, as Phil’s eyes lit up with humor. “But this,” he asserted, grinning as he indicated the kitchen table they’d just fucked on, “Goes to our grave,” he vowed, trying and failing to look serious. “I swear to god, Dan, no one can know we fucked on my parents’ kitchen table!”

The last of his sentence dissolved into a high pitched laugh, as Phil let his head fall forward again, hanging between broad shoulders.

“Fuck,” he added, body shaking over Dan’s as he continued to laugh. “You have no idea what you do to me,” Phil murmured close to Dan’s ear.

The entire situation was just this side of ridiculous, and anything was better than the pain that had been on Phil’s face before. Letting out a high pitched laugh of his own, Dan reached up and pressed his fingers through Phil’s shaky black hair, tugging a little in order to force Phil to look up at him.

Phil did. His cheeks were still flushed, his eyes bright, and his smile the best thing in the world. Dan felt his heart swell.

Dan was incapable of wiping the smug look off his face. It finally felt like Phil had been just as into this as Dan had been. Maybe Phil really had just been upset that Dan was upset, and his tears had been for Dan’s pain. If that was all it was, Dan could die happy.

It took a moment for Phil to seem to register Dan’s change in demeanor, but when he did, he rolled his eyes and leaned back in for a chaste kiss.

“Someone looks pleased with themselves,” he joked.

His voice, somehow, had gone huskier, and it made Dan’s cock pulse. His eyes went wide as passion suddenly overtook humor. Dan thought he could feel another bead of cum ooze from the tip of his cock, and tried not to flush at the realization that he had more to give.

Phil didn’t miss it, though. Dan watched his eyes drift down to Dan’s cock as Dan’s face paled, and his smile fell away. Phil’s grin faded into a look of shock.

“I’m gonna need, like, another hour if you want more from me, Dan,” he murmured, sounding both exasperated and amused as his eyes flitted back up to Dan’s. Slowly, he leaned down to kiss Dan again. His lips were sweeter this time, and he kept his tongue to himself, instead sucking lightly at Dan’s bottom lip.

Slowly, he drew away, pressing one final chaste peck to Dan’s lips before raising up enough to look him in the eyes, properly this time. His expression had gone soft, and a little hesitant.

“And you owe me a conversation before that,” he whispered.

Dan knew immediately what Phil was talking about. He had promised he’d explain everything afterwards, and Dan didn’t mind talking to Phil, it just was that… well, Phil had a way of making Dan cravemore.

Nevertheless, Dan nodded his head. Anything for Phil.

“Great,” Phil replied, eagerly acknowledging Dan’s compliance. “But first we need a shower.” Before Dan could so much as reply, Phil hoisted himself up from where he’d bent over Dan, and steadied himself on shaky legs. Instantly, his arms found Dan’s waist, and he started to help Dan climb off of the kitchen table. His hands were warm and comforting, a reassuring weight that Dan would never tire of.

“Thanks,” he murmured, cheeks flushing, once his feet had hit the ground. Of course, being vertical meant the steady flow of things dripping out of him picked up pace a bit, and Dan grimaced at the feeling.

Glancing down at himself, Dan tried to take stock of just how much of a mess he was making, and grimaced again at the sight of his legs covered in far more substances than they probably should be.

Before Dan could even look up and judge Phil’s reaction, Phil sighed.

“And that would be why I said I wasn’t gonna come inside of you today. Only someone decided they didn’t care,” Phil teased, his voice just this side of snarky. His gaze was knowing, and his lips curled up in an amused smile that left Dan unable to do anything more than snort at Phil’s displeasure.

Dan, he tucked his face into Phil’s neck, and allowed his body to fall back into Phil’s. His arms moved up to wrap around Phil’s neck in order to hold on tight as he squeezed him.

Phil’s arms tightened around Dan’s waist in return, and he sighed into Dan’s hair.

The moment made Dan’s chest feel light, and for the first time in the last twelve hours, Dan actually felt content. He wasn’t fighting off the anger, hurt, or resentment towards his parents anymore. He was just enjoying his time with Phil.

“Might wanna get in the shower soon,” Phil murmured after a moment. His hands moved from around Dan’s waist to his hips, fingers drawing small circles against the tanned skin there. He made no effort to make either of them move, however, and when Dan peeked up at Phil to find out what was distracting him, he realized that Phil’s chin had moved to his shoulder, and he was quite obviously staring at Dan’s bum.

Phil’s expression was confusing. He definitely didn’t look happy about the clean up, and yet he was biting his bottom lip as if -

Dan grinned, realization dawning on him. Slowly, he pulled back, dislodging Phil’s chin from his shoulder, and stared up at him. His eyes were dark, seductive.

“I told you I wanted you to mark me up,” he murmured. “And I meant everywhere,” he added, breath puffing out hotly against Phil’s lips. “I wanted you to claim me… and having your come inside of me was just for me.”

Phil let out a soft groan at Dan’s words, the sound a hot puff against Dan’s mouth. His hands tightened on Dan’s hips, and he drew him in tight to Phil’s chest, his cock pulsing against Dan’s thigh in sudden interest. Dan grinned.

“Don’t say things like that,” Phil murmured, voice breathy. “Fuck, Dan.” He was stuttering, and it was clear he wanted Dan just as much as Dan wanted him.

Humming, Dan let his eyes fall shut as he closed the space between them and kissed Phil again. This time, Dan was the one to press his tongue inside of Phil’s mouth, not giving him the smallest chance to argue against it, and sighed when Phil let out a huff of pleasure.

“Why not?” Dan asked, voice just this side of husky as he pulled away. “It’s true,” he breathed. “And it’s clearly turning you on.”

Dan could feel Phil’s cock thickening against his thigh, starting to curve upwards, like it wanted more. So much for Phil needing another hour. The feeling was intoxicating. Groaning a little at the thought, Dan found himself tempted to reach down and take Phil’s cock in his hand, to stroke him fast and hard in his fist until he came all over Dan, and marked him that way, too.

“Do you like the thought of marking me up?” Dan asked, making his voice as low as he could manage. He let his eyes flutter, and he did his best to look as sensual as he could manage, “Of marking me with your come?” he breathed, ghosting his lips over Phil’s cheek. Phil’s breathing hitched, and he gasped under Dan’s touch, his hands shaking where they held Dan’s hips. “Do you like being able to see yourself leaking out of me?” Dan practically moaned, mouthing over Phil’s jaw, and skimming his tongue just under Phil’s bottom lip.

Slowly, Dan released his hold around Phil’s neck, spurred on by the soft sounds Phil was beginning to make. They weren’t quite moans, just sighs of pleasure and desire, and Dan suddenly wanted nothing more than to do just what he’d been imagining, and stroke Phil to a second orgasm. Fingers trailing down Phil’s chest, Dan leaned in for an actual kiss, aching to touch, and to stroke, but before he could reach Phil’s dick, before his lips could find Phil’s, Phil stopped him.

His hand found Dan’s wrist, stilling it, and he took an actual step back as his fingers wrapped tight around Dan’s wandering hand.

When Dan looked up into his eyes, Phil’s pupils were completely blown. The tiniest sliver of blue outlined the black of his eyes.

“If it were up to me, you’d always be filled with my come,” Phil growled, his voice gravelly. He almost looked as intense as he had earlier, when he’d glared at Dan and dominated the fuck out of him, demanding that Dan follow his rules and dont touch, don’t move.

But it was his words, more than anything, that made Dan’s eyes roll to the back of his head, and his cock twitch in interest. He let out a long, low moan that came from deep inside of his chest.

“If it were up to me, no one would ever forget you were mine,” Phil added, voice filled with raw desire that sent arousal straight to Dan’s groin.

Deciding fuck it, who cares, Dan shoved in close to Phil again, and tried to wrench his wrist from Phil’s hand so he could finally touch him.

But Phil stopped him again.

He grabbed Dan’s hip, and angled him carefully away from Phil’s body.

“We can’t. Not here,” Phil said gruffly. “Not right now. We need a shower first,” he insisted, sounding just as put out as Dan suddenly felt. Pouting a bit, Dan tried one more time to encourage Phil to let them just do it, but Phil’s hand’s tightened on Dan’s hip, and on his wrist.

He looked more than a little sexually frustrated himself as he spoke up again. “Dan, I wasn’t kidding when I said I’d have to clean you up afterwards. Olive oil isn’t exactly the safest thing to have in your body. At least not… that way,” he insisted with a pained smirk. “I don’t want to leave it in you any longer than necessary.”

His words were strained and a little stuttered as Phil very obviously tried to maintain some control, a sight Dan hated to see. He much preferred the out of control Phil. Besides… who said a shower had to ruin their fun?

“I’ve always liked showers,” Dan murmured slyly, lowering his lashes and staring up from under them in an attempt to entice Phil, to convince him that they could have sex just as easily in the shower as they could downstairs.

Phil groaned, and for a moment, Dan thought he’d won. But then Phil let go of his wrist, of his hip, and took a step away from Dan’s body.

“Are you trying to work me up again?” Phil sighed, reaching up and pressing a hand through his hair, pushing his fringe up into a quiff. Dan licked his lips at the sexy sight that made, and almost stepped forward to kiss Phil again, except that Phil was giving him a very stern look.

Freezing in place, Dan just kind of looked at Phil, and hoped he hadn’t finally pushed him too far.

“I’m serious, Dan, I need like… a minimum of an hour before I think I could come again,” Phil insisted, trying and failing to frown with a raging hard on hanging between his legs. Slowly, Dan’s gaze drifted down, taking in the sight of Phil’s very interested dick, and raised an eyebrow at it.

“I think your cock would beg to differ,” Dan replied slyly. He didn’t even attempt to hide the way he licked his lips, and slowly trailed his gaze back up Phil’s body, lingering for a moment on the little scruff of hair in the middle of Phil’s chest.

By the time Dan was looking at Phil’s face again, Phil had already narrowed his eyes at him.

“Knock it off, Dan,” Phil hissed, reaching down in an attempt to hide his cock from view. It was no use, though. If there was one thing that was true about Phil, it was that he was rather hung. If Dan wasn’t mistaken, he was at least a little more than average, and his hands were not quite big enough to shield his erect cock.

“And if I don’t?” Dan teased, taking another step forward that was matched easily by Phil, who was slowly beginning to look more and more pissed off.

“Don’t fucking test me right now, Dan,” Phil challenged, crossing his arms over his chest. His expression was dark, and strained, but despite the obvious frustration, Phil’s voice still shook like he wanted to give in, but couldn’t. Dan stopped moving, and bit his lips he realized that Phil was actually serious, and that Dan really need to stop.

“I’m serious, Dan,” Phil pressed. “Not now.” Without another word, Phil turned his back on Dan, and headed straight to the kitchen sink where he turned on the faucet and grabbed a paper towel. “Go upstairs. We need a shower. I’ll meet you in there in a minute.”

Frowning at the rather harsh dismissal, Dan took a step forward. The least Phil could do was come with him.

“Come with me at least,” he complained. He didn’t know if Phil was flat out rejecting shower sex, or if he was just rejecting going any further until they’d cleaned up a bit, but either way, Dan didn’t particularly want to be separated from Phil just then. Not when Phil had already made him feel so good. Not when Dan was so afraid that being alone would send him spiraling back into the pain his parents had left him with that morning.

The sink faucet turned off, and Phil turned around to look at Dan with a wet paper towel in his hand. His expression was schooled back into that blank look he was so good at, and he stared pointedly at the kitchen floor.

Dan glanced down, and flushed as he remembered that he was leaking bodily fluids that weren’t exactly his.

“I need to clean up, Dan,” Phil insisted. “I’ve got a feeling we aren’t going to want to come back down here later,” he muttered with a sigh.

While the words weren’t exactly what Dan wanted to hear, they were enough to send a small thrill coursing through him. That didn’t sound like an outright rejection, at least. Maybe Phil would be up for that second round, if Dan would just behave and do what he said.

Shivering a little at the thought of that, of Phil continuing along in this dominate role, Dan briefly closed his eyes. When he opened them again, Phil was still staring him down, clearly waiting for Dan to walk away.

“Fine,” Dan finally agreed. “Just don’t take too long, okay?” he pleaded.

Phil nodded dutifully, and Dan sighed as he finally turned away.

Doing his best to keep from making any more of a mess of the kitchen, Dan squeezed his legs together a bit to keep the come and olive oil mostly on himself, not the floor, and followed the trail of their clothes he and Phil had left in their wake. He was quick to gather them in his arms, adamant that there would be no evidence of what they’d done for Phil’s parents to see, and even grabbed his suitcase while he was at it.

Tugging the rolling bag behind him, Dan headed for the stairway, and did his best to struggle up the steps with his arms full and his bag falling behind him. He didn’t bother to attempt to carry it, and just let it thump along behind him, knowing Phil would understand what was going on.

Once inside of Phil’s bedroom, Dan dumped the pile of clothes into Phil’s hamper, dropped off his luggage case, and headed back out of Phil’s room for the bathroom. He wasn’t entirely sure when Phil’s parents would be home, but he was confident it would be long after their shower, at the very least. Rummaging through his pack for a change of clothes was hopefully unnecessary.

The Lester’s had a fairly unique shower head that Dan had originally taken a bit of time to get used to, but now he stepped into the large stall without hesitation, and flicked the water on, turning knobs and pulling the little bit of string that brought the water pressure up as soon as the water was warm enough for his liking.

The water was soothing against the sore muscles of his back. Dan sighed as he bent his head forward, allowing the water to wash over the tense tendons. He didn’t bother starting to wash himself down, hoping that Phil would wash Dan when he joined soon.

Dan wanted to wash Phil as well, wanted to have that same moment they’d had months ago, the first and last time they’d ever shared a shower. He wanted to replicate the intimate feeling of washing each other down. It would be the cherry on top of the morning they’d already had. And maybe it would help put off that whole conversation they needed to have…

His mind drifted, soaking in the memories of what it had felt like to have Phil fuck him like that, to have Phil dominate him and take control, to show Dan a side of him he’d never seen before. He felt himself getting aroused again, and prayed to a god he wasn’t sure existed that Phil would take him up on that offer of shower sex. Maybe. He hadn’t seemed completely opposed.

It seemed to take forever before Phil joined him in the shower, though. Dan eventually heard Phil walk into the room and turn on the sink faucet, but he didn’t open the shower door and join Dan right away. Instead, he seemed to hesitate, and Dan poked his head out from around the glass door to find out why.

Phil was putting his contact lenses in, the lense pot balanced precariously on top of the tap. Dan pouted at the sight.

“No, leave your glasses on,” he insisted, startling Phil a bit, who jumped fumbled with the little plastic lens on his finger. Dan would have felt worse if he wasn’t so against Phil putting them in in the first place.

Frowning, Phil turned around.

“I can’t see anything, Dan, and I can’t exactly wear my glasses in the shower,” he explained.

“But you look so hot with your glasses,” Dan insisted, doing his best to give Phil his best pout. “And you never wear them around me. Please?” he begged.

Phil wasn’t having it. His frown deepened as he stared at Dan, and he shook his head determinedly. “Not now, Dan. I need contacts to shower.”

Pouting further, Dan nonetheless gave in. It wasn’t as if he knew what it was like to be blind as a bat, the way he knew Phil was, so he couldn’t exactly argue. Still. Dan needed to get on that whole, encouraging Phil to wear his glasses more often thing.

Eventually, Phil joined him in the shower. The sound of the glass door sliding open, and a gust of cold air alerted Dan to the fact that Phil was coming in, and then there were warm arms wrapped around his waist. Dan sighed as Phil pulled him back against his chest, and pressed a tender kiss to the top of his head.

“Mm, hi,” Dan murmured, sinking into Phil’s touch. His head hit Phil’s shoulder, and he tilted his head back to look up into warm blue eyes.

Phil grinned back.

“Hi, yourself,” he whispered. He squeezed his arms around Dan’s waist again for good measure, and then slowly helped to turn Dan around in his arms. Dan went willingly, and hummed when Phil pressed their chests together, forehead falling onto Dan’s. His eyes, that familiar, beautiful blue, looked like they were glowing as Phil smiled down at him.

“You look good in my shower,” Phil added, and then kissed him without waiting for a response. Their mouths slotted together easily, the motion familiar and almost natural, now. Dan’s eyes fluttered closed, and he forgot about everything else. For the first time all morning, their kiss was gentle. It was softer, and kinder, with that little bit of the romance and affection that Dan knew Phil desperately loved - and that Dan loved just as much.

Dan’s hands wrapped around Phil’s neck, and he held himself close to his boyfriend. Phil’s hands moved to cup Dan’s cheeks, and he stroked under his eyes gently, kissing Dan with all that he had. His every movement was gentle, reaffirming, and exactly what Dan had needed.

So Dan was understandably upset when Phil pulled away.

Whining, Dan tried to chase Phil’s lips, which only caused Phil to laugh at him and step away. His hands moved to Dan’s shoulders, holding him back from pressing too far into Phil’s personal space, while he offered Dan a soft smile.

“Shh,” Phil hummed, “We can make out later. Come on. Let me take care of you now, and then we can talk.”

Unable to argue, Dan just sighed, and relaxed under Phil’s touch. Slowly, Phil guided him around so he was stood just in front of Phil, but not quite under the spray of the water, and then reached for the body wash sitting on the shelf.

Dan let his eyes slide closed as Phil started to wash him down. He worked a warm wash cloth covered in body wash down Dan’s chest, and over his arms, working up a nice lather and soothing Dan at the same time. His touches weren’t completely gentle, but they weren’t rough either, and Dan loved it.

It was times like these Dan thought Phil would be an amazing dad. Maybe one day, they could both be…

But Dan wasn’t going to think about that just then. He had far more important things to think about right now, one of which… included his parents. Unfortunately.

Letting out a disgruntled sigh, Dan turned dutifully in Phil’s hold when his boyfriend nudged him to do so, and allowed Phil to push him under the spray of the water. The suds on Dan’s upper body slowly washed away, and then Phil moved back in close to wash his hands through Dan’s hair as well.

Dan allowed himself to get lost in Phil’s ministrations, shoving all thoughts of the future to the back of his head, and doing his best to live in the here and now instead. It was far better to be warm and taken care of in Phil’s arms, then have to worry about any sort of eventuality.

But Dan’s fathers words still echoed in his head. Whatever you have with that friend of yours ends now. Do you understand me?

“My turn,” Phil murmured against the shell of Dan’s ear, startling him out of his thoughts. Dan jumped, not having realized that Phil had finished washing his hair, and was now trying to hand Dan the washcloth. Taking it, Dan did his best to shake away his thoughts, and offered Phil a gentle smile.

Lathering up the washcloth for Phil this time, Dan set to work.

But his head was still far, far away. All he could think about was how horrid he’d felt when he’d left that morning, and how terrible he’d still felt when he’d shown up at Phil’s.

The fact that Phil had taken him in without question that morning still seemed almost unbelievable.

But Dan hadn’t even given Phil a chance to talk before he’d jumped on him. He hadn’t given Phil a chance to ask what was going on, or to even push and find out just what Dan had meant when he’d begged Phil to make him Phil’s.

There was a part of Dan that felt horrible for that, if only because Phil had looked so heartbroken. Sure, it was possible that Phil had just been upset that Dan was upset, but what if it was more than that?

Dan hadn’t realized he’d stopped scrubbing Phil until Phil turned around in his arms and sighed. Startled, Dan nearly dropped the washcloth, and jumped when Phil’s fingers wrapped around his wrist to hold it in place.

“Okay, what’s going on, Dan?” Phil asked, his voice soft as he leaned in close. Dan bit his lip, a little ashamed at having been caught out, but more so that he’d been so distracted he hadn’t been able to take care of Phil the way Phil had taken care of him.

Shrugging a little, Dan tried to ignore the issue, rubbing the wash cloth on Phil’s chest with renewed vigor, but Phil wasn’t having it. He sighed again, and nuzzled at Dan’s face with his nose.

“You know you can tell me anything, right Dan?” he asked, breath warm against Dan’s cheek. Dan felt his eyes start to burn a little, emotion welling inside of him, but he didn’t cry. He didn’t want to cry. There was no reason to cry. So he held it back, and shrugged his shoulders again.

“I guess I’m just… worried I upset you, earlier,” Dan muttered. “I didn’t exactly explain what the hell was going on,” he continued, avoiding Phil’s gaze, “and I’m starting to feel guilty about it.”

Phil’s movements stopped before Dan had even finished talking. His fingers were warm against Dan’s wrist, and his breath continued to puff against Dan’s cheek, but his nose stopped skimming soothing movements against Dan’s. He seemed frozen in place, a fact that didn’t settle well in the pit of Dan’s stomach.

Unable to think of anything more to say, Dan just waited for Phil to respond.

“Oh,” Phil murmured, drawing away and letting go of Dan’s wrist. When Dan risked a glance at his face, he found that Phil’s expression was unreadable. Dan swallowed thickly, that swell of emotion from earlier lodging in his throat, and causing him to feel even more terrified than he already did. “Right,” Phil added after a moment, without so much as looking at Dan.

Dan didn’t know what to make of that. It wasn’t exactly an answer, after all.

But he didn’t have to wait long for Phil to continue.

“I’m not… upset at you,” Phil sighed, reaching up to brush wet hair back and off of his face. He still wasn’t looking at Dan. “It’s more like… I’m upset in general?” His voice trailed off into an uncertain question as he grimaced. “I just… don’t know how upset I should be, or if I should be worried,” he explained.

Finally, finally, he turned his head to look at Dan, and the heartbreak Dan thought he’d seen earlier was back. It was clear Phil was trying to hide it, though, clear that he didn’t want Dan to be worried about him, and that, more than anything, hurt.

Before Dan could say anything, though, or even try to interrupt and explain to Phil what was going on, Phil shook his head and forced a pained looking smile onto his face.

“But it’s fine, Dan. I’m fine. We can talk about all of that later. For now… I just want to be with you. Besides, we really need to finish this shower,” he explained with a small chuckle. “Olive oil might be a good enough substitute for lube, but it’s not a very comfortable one, nor should we leave it inside of you for too long. Besides, I uh… kind of… came inside of you, and I’m not sure that’s the most comfortable feeling in the world,” Phil said, his voice trailing off into that same deep, dark tone of desire that Dan had heard downstairs, just before Phil had stepped away from Dan and kept them from going any further.

Dan shivered at the sound, reaching out to prop himself up on the shower wall beside him as a wave of desire crashed through him. He couldn’t help it. The reminder that he’d taken Phil’s entire load of come not more than an hour ago was making his head spin.

Somehow, Dan knew it had been Phil’s intention to distract him. The smirk that spread itself across Phil’s face was enough of an indication, not to mention the way he stepped in close, and pressed the palms of his hands to Dan’s hips.

“No, it’s not,” Dan agreed, biting his bottom lip. His eyes flicked back and forth between Phil’s, trying to decide if he should push their earlier conversation, or give Phil this.

The look on Phil’s face told Dan that maybe, just maybe, it was Dan’s turn to give Phil what he wanted without question.

“But I liked it,” he admitted, allowing his voice to go breathy. While he might be letting Phil get away with changing the subject, it didn’t mean that Dan wasn’t serious when he said he liked the feel of Phil’s come inside of him. “Like, a lot. It felt so good, when I could feel you coming undone inside of me… I felt like… like… like I was yours,” he whimpered, pressing his body in close to Phil’s, and groaning when their erections rubbed against each other.

Phil groaned, rolling his hips into Dan’s. He seemed to go speechless as he pressed his face into the crook of Dan’s neck and sucked a kiss into the sensitive bit of skin. The touch caused Dan to push into Phil’s hips, and let out a small gasp.

Dan felt Phil grin into his skin.

“You like that, don’t you, Dan?” Phil asked, maneuvering an arm between their bodies, and letting hot fingers roam over heated skin. “You like the way our cocks feel pressed together, hmm?” he continued, drawing his fingers to Dan’s nipples, and squeezing one lightly between the tips of two fingers.

Dan let out a loud moan, and felt his hips twitch forwards.

Phil chuckled, and let his fingers move further down, caressing them over Dan’s ribs, before allowing them to move to Dan’s bum. Dan felt his breathing hitch as Phil’s fingers played with the cleft of his ass, but before he could press any farther, he pulled away completely.

Dan whined.

“Shh. We’ll get there,” Phil murmured, both amused and sensual. “I’ll make sure you come again. Just let me clean you out first,” Phil insisted softly. “I’ll make it worth your while,” he added for good measure, voice coy, and while Dan wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, he was willing to take anything Phil offered him just then.

“Okay,” he agreed breathlessly. Phil’s dick pressing against his was starting to get him excited again, and he couldn’t deny that he was eager for another round, if Phil was willing to give it to him.

Phil chuckled, and moved his head to press his lips to Dan’s ear.

“You wanted me to mark the hell out of you earlier for someone… well this time, I think I want to remind you just how much I love you.”

Dan shivered at the implications, letting out a soft moan, regardless of the fact that Phil hadn’t even touched him yet. His voice, hot against Dan’s ear, was enough to make Dan’s cock twitch and his breathing go unsteady.

Phil’s hands moved until both were gripping Dan’s hips, and then he turned Dan completely, and walked Dan forward until Dan’s chest was pressed against the cold tile of the shower wall. The warm water of the shower head pounded against his low back as Phil adjusting Dan’s hips so that Dan was extending his bum out.

Dan felt like he was being presented, as Phil pushed his feet apart and forced him to open himself up to him, and he couldn’t help but love that. He had to force himself to remember that Phil was doing this to clean him, and not to get him off.

“Remember when I promised you a prostate massage?” Phil purred, his words just loud enough to be heard over the pounding of Dan’s blood in his veins, and the shower driving down over Dan’s head.

Fuck, Dan definitely remembered that promise.

He let out a guttural moan, and shoved his hips back further, practically begging for what Phil was offering him, despite the fact that just a moment ago, Phil had implied that sex was not on the agenda right away.

They hadn’t had a chance to explore a prostate massage yet, though, because every time they’d tried, they’d been unable to restrain themselves and always ended with Phil fucking Dan instead. Now, though… Now Dan thought they might succeed, and he really liked the sound of that.

Chuckling darkly, Phil shuffled around behind Dan. Dan could hear Phil moving, but he couldn’t see him. No matter how hard he tried to strain his head over his shoulder, the position Phil had put Dan in made it impossible to see anything.

Dan had his arms pressed up against the shower wall to keep him in place, and he was bent over like he was going to get fucked. His head swung low between his shoulders, and Dan honestly wanted nothing more than to reach between his legs and tug at his cock.

God, he wished that were possible, but if he did, Dan was afraid he might fall. Besides, he knew better than to give his cock too much stimulation. He didn’t want to hit that wall of oversensitivity that had always previously prevented him from coming, and with Phil, he hadn’t run into that problem in a long time.

Finally, the sound of Phil’s knees hitting the shower floor reached Dan’s ears, and he moaned at the mental image that gave him. He could feel his heart beat in his ears as Phil’s fingers came up to massage at this bum, cupping each cheek and squeezing lightly the way he liked to anytime he had a chance to focus his attention on Dan’s arse. Dan’s eyes closed as heat started to blossom inside of him, and he let out a steady stream of soft whines as Phil played with his bum.

“I’ve done a bit more research on prostate massages,” Phil said after a moment, his breath hot as it puffed against Dan’s bum. Dan tried to look over his shoulder again, and failed, his cheeks surely flushed red with want.

“Mm?” he managed in response, wondering what Phil was getting at with that.

“Mm,” Phil replied on a soft chuckle, his mouth trailing warm, wet kisses over the skin of his bum, now. He bit down lightly, and then a little deeper, sucking at the skin and surely leaving a mark that Dan was sure would ache every time he sat from here on out. The thought of that alone made him want whatever Phil wanted to give him even more.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for a while now,” Phil added when he pulled his mouth away, his hands starting to work at drawing Dan’s butt cheeks apart, exposing Dan’s red rim to Phil’s gaze. Dan could just imagine how he looked, with Phil’s cum still oozing out of him, clinging to Dan’s puffy rim, and making Dan look as used as he currently felt.

A tremor worked its way up Dan’s spine, and he grunted out a soft affirmative, an encouragement for Phil to keep going, to keep talking, to keep touching - whatever he wanted.

So Phil did. He started to press more kisses along Dan’s bum, pressing his tongue alongside his own fingers, and inching far too close to Dan’s rim for comfort. Dan wiggled a bit, though he couldn’t help wondering what it would feel like to have the heat of that warm muscle against him there. Shaking the thought away, Dan tried to keep himself still and relaxed, putting all of his trust into Phil, whose fingers finally moved to tease at his rim.

“I’ve learned a few tricks on the internet. The most interesting of which says I can probably get you to come two to three times in a row with just this.”

Dan, who hadn’t realized his eyes had drifted closed, felt his body spasm and his eyes fly open as a gasp ripped itself from his lips. His cock, previously half hard, jerked to full attention, pulsating where it hung between his legs. Dan could feel the sensation all the way down to his balls.

The thought alone of having multiple orgarsms, when Dan hadn’t even have been able to have one until just a few months ago, made his knees weak.

Thankfully, Phil wrapped a supporting hand around Dan’s hip to help settle him and keep him in place.

He grinned against Dan’s skin.

“Do you like the sound of that, Dan?” Phil asked, his voice husky. Dan was almost surprised he could hear it over the sound of the shower, beating down on them.

“Do you like the sound of me dragging multiple orgasms out of you with my fingers alone?” Phil continued, mouthing along Dan’s arse. His lips were hot, hotter than Dan thought possible, and his teeth grazed lightly against his skin.

Phil kept going.

“Do you like the sound of me taking such good care of you that you never forget who you belong to again?” This time, his words were more of a hiss as he bit down sharply on Dan’s inner bum. Dan gasped, surprised by the feeling, as Phil pressed one finger, wet with nothing but the stream of the shower water, against Dan’s rim.

Phil was relentless - both with his words and his movements.

“You asked me to mark you up so everyone would know who you belonged to, but what about you? Do you need reminding?” Phil asked, pressing that finger just beyond Dan’s outer walls.

His hips jerked back as he realized he was still so slick inside that Phil didn’t need any more lube. It was Phil’s words, however, that punched all of the air out of Dan’s lungs and made him gasp so loud he was sure the neighbors in the next fucking house could hear. His bum thrusted back, pushing more of Phil’s finger inside of him, the pleasure contorting his spine into a deep arch

God, god, Dan could feel Phil pressing his own come back inside of Dan. He hadn’t thought something could feel so fucking erotic, so fucking sexy, and yet this, this, was… was… fucking ecstasy. Dan’s body was on fire. Every last nerve ending was reacting to not just the feeling, but the knowledge that Phil’s come was inside of him, and Phil was using it to loosen Dan up.

For a moment, Dan’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, and his ears rung with the sound that came from his veins humming, his blood pulsing through him so fast he could feel it.

And then Phil spoke again. This time, his voice was somehow closer to Dan, like he was leaning over him to get in close, to make sure that Dan heard every word of what he had to say.

“I think you do. I think you need a reminder that you’re mine.”

Abruptly, Phil bit down on the soft pudge of Dan’s side while his finger wriggled in deeper, the sensation of Phil’s come squelching within him making Dan’s toes curl, and his arms nearly give out. Doing his best to brace himself a little more securely, Dan let his knees give out instead, until they hit the floor and he was no longer half-bent over. A part of Dan felt bad for making it even harder for Phil to get inside of him now, but the other part of him just felt relieved that he no longer had to hold himself up.

All of the sensations currently coursing through him were just too much - in a good way. Dan never wanted them to stop, but if Phil planned to milk multiple orgasms out of him in one sitting, Dan wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold himself up past the first one.

Phil’s mouth worked at Dan’s ribs, biting harshly as he fingered him as deeply as he could get with one finger. He wasn’t massaging Dan’s prostate yet, but it was clear he was working up to it, as he jerked his finger around inside of Dan to make sure that he was still nice and loose.

But Dan wanted more. He was already panting and desperately in love with everything that Phil was doing, everything that he was saying. He wanted Phil to make him come his fucking brains out, wanted him to work Dan up again, and again, and again. He wanted Phil to remind Dan that he was Phil’s, he wanted Phil to -

“Prove it,” Dan gasped

Phil’s ministrations abruptly stopped. His finger stopped pressing inside of Dan, and his mouth pulled away from his ribs, hot breath panting against Dan’s sensitive, bruised up skin.

Dan couldn’t see Phil’s expression, but he could imagine it. If the way Phil had looked at him earlier today was anything to go by, he knew Phil must look… fierce, unyielding. Dan shivered, his shoulder blades drawing together as he breathed in deeply.

For a moment, Phil said nothing. He didn’t so much as move. He remained perfectly still, pressed against Dan, but refusing to give him anymore attention. His finger remained pressed inside of Dan, but it didn’t so much as twitch. Dan’s body shook, the hot spray of the shower teasing at his over sensitive skin, but giving Dan little to nothing compared to what he knew Phil could give him.

And then Phil pulled his finger free from Dan, and leaned up over him so his face was pressed up against Dan’s ear, and his wet hair was tickling at the side of Dan’s head.

“I intend to.”

Suddenly, two of Phil’s fingers were pressed up against Dan’s rim, and he leaned back so he could bite at the edge of Dan’s bum while his fingers mercilessly stroked over the puckered skin of Dan’s entrance. Dan squirmed at the sudden onslaught, unsure what to make of it, as Phil rubbed water against Dan’s body and not only cleaned it, but used it to tease Dan and draw arousal tighter around his belly.

He refused to dip his fingers in past the very tip of Dan’s hole, pushing and prodding at Dan’s entrance, stretching it and making Dan’s body ache with the need for more, but not giving it. Instead, Phil worked his mouth along Dan’s bottom, his unoccupied hand moving from Dan’s hip to his butt cheek, pulling it wide so Dan’s hole was completely exposed to Phil. Phil’s mouth moved down along him lower and lower still, until once again Dan was tensing up from how close Phil was to his actual arse hole, a place Dan considered to be unsanitary enough without Phil’s mouth being there.

And then Phil leaned in even closer, his breath hot and wet against Dan’s rim, a place that no one had so much as looked at before Phil. The realization of how close Phil was to his entrance sent a flare of electric need through him, so strong that Dan nearly cried out, and pressed his body back against Phil.

Suddenly, something wet slid along the edges of his rim in a lapping motion, and Dan groaned, his entire body rocking back into the motion the same way Dan had wanted to rock back onto Phil’s mouth.

That’s when it hit him. The wet thing was Phil’s mouth - his tongue, to be specific, and it was smoothing over the entire pucker of Dan’s rim in long, generous licks.

Dan’s entire body convulsed, his cock throbbing angrily as his hips thrusted back against the insanely erotic feeling. Sparks of intense pleasure began to radiate up and down his spine, the feeling like nothing Dan had ever felt before, and while a part of him was mortified at the fact that Phil was licking there, the rest of his brain was so far gone from pleasure that he couldn’t so much as open his mouth to protest.

Instead, Dan merely let out a string of unintelligible noises as Phil’s mouth kept going, his tongue prodding along Dan’s rim, licking every bit of him, clearly trying to take in the taste of his skin. Dan’s body shook with the overwhelming sensation, his cock straining for a release that wasn’t quite ready to come. At the same time, the tension was rising so fast, Dan thought he might come quickly for the first time in his entire life.

Unfortunately for Dan, that was the moment Phil tore his mouth away.

Over the sound of ringing in his ears, Dan could hear Phil chuckling at him.

“You taste good,” Phil rumbled, now tonguing at Dan’s buttocks instead while his fingers went right back to teasing at Dan’s rim. Two of the tips of his fingers pressed in and out a few times, before pushing deep inside, water covered enough to hopefully clean the oil from Dan’s body the way Phil so clearly seemed to want to. Phil’s other hand finally let go of Dan’s bum, and moved between his thighs, to the spot right between his balls and his arse. Phil’s fingers pressed up tight against the skin, pushing in deep like they were looking for something, but Dan couldn’t quite puzzle it out.

He was too busy coming down from the high that was the feeling of Phil licking at his bum.

“Wha-whaaa-whaaat was that,” Dan managed to gasp out, his arse clenching around the two fingers slick inside of him. His entire body was radiating with the lingering pleasure of Phil’s mouth against him, and while Phil’s fingers felt good as well, currently nothing could compare to wet heat of his mouth.

Phil chuckled again.

“That,” he mumbled, just loud enough Dan could hear him over the sound of the water pounding around them, around the sound of Dan’s heavy breathing, “That was my tongue, Daniel.”

Dan nearly groaned at the words, a confirmation of what he’d already known. His entire body clenched up, sending another shock of pleasure through him as that forced Phil’s fingers deeper, forced them to rut up against his walls and really start to pleasure him. Dan’s mouth dropped open on a cut off moan, too busy panting into the steamy air to really make any coherent noises, and he shoved his bum backwards onto Phil’s fingers.

The thought that Phil usually wore gloves for this kind of activity was bouncing around in Dan’s head, however. Not a few minutes earlier, Dan had wondered what Phil’s mouth on him might feel like, but he’d recognized that was an impossibility before it had even happened. Now, though, now Dan was doing his best to chase his thoughts and articulate his worries to Phil.

“Isn-isn-isn’t that unsanitary?” Dan managed, his voice a high pitched squeak as he fucked himself backwards on Phil’s fingers. Phil let him, massaging the space behind Dan’s balls while he jerked his fingers in and out of Dan to the rhythm of Dan’s movements. Phil’s mouth never stopped its gentle movements biting and licking at Dan’s arse, but he did draw away a bit at Dan’s question.

“Mm, usually,” Phil hummed, his voice dark. “But you haven’t eaten since yesterday afternoon,” he added with a sharp nip of reprimand to Dan’s bum, “and not only are we currently in a shower, but I’m washing you clean as we speak. In this instance,” he said, voice going lower, lips trailing up Dan’s bum and across his ribs, “We’re definitely safe. Trust me, Dan. Let me take care of you.”

Phil nibbled at a tense bit of skin Dan was sure was already bruised, and yet the sensation burned a deep feeling of desire through his veins. He couldn't believe he’d once thought he wouldn’t be able to go a second round so soon after this morning, couldn’t believe how he’d gotten so lucky that Phil was willing to take care of him like this, didn’t know how he’d managed to find someone willing to eat him out, something Dan had previously thought only ever happened in porn.

But he wasn’t going to complain, and he sure as hell trusted Phil.

Phil bit down harshly on another part of Dan’s ribs, sucking a bruise there, and groaning softly as his own actions. Dan barely heard the sound over his own violent moan, but he was glad that he did.

Slowly, Phil drew his mouth away from Dan’s skin.

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

Wordlessly, Dan nodded his head vigorously.

“Then let me take care of you,” Phil replied simply. He didn’t elaborate, didn’t explain what he was going to do. In fact, Phil seemed to give up on speaking entirely. Instead, Phil went right back to mouthing along Dan’s bum, went right back to work on Dan’s body

Dan had no idea what was coming.

All he knew was that that Phil had researched prostate massages, that Phil wanted to milk him for all that he was worth and give him as many orgasms as possible, that Phil wanted to maybe even push Dan to his limits, and that Phil planned to get his mouth involved in the process.

He had no idea how to prepare himself.

So he didn’t.

Phil’s fingers worked him open again, pumping in and out of him as Dan’s hips thrusted back. His mouth worked more and more bruises into the sensitive skin of Dan’s bum, as if Phil couldn’t get enough of tasting Dan’s sweet skin. The fingers pressed just behind Dan’s balls just kept massaging up, digging deep, looking for something, while Dan could do nothing more than just take.

The slick feel of Phil’s fingers in and out of him only seemed to continue far longer than seemed necessary for just a thorough cleaning. From time to time, Phil would remove his fingers completely, presumably washing them off, before returning them to Dan’s body. Each time this occurred, Dan only felt arousal build deeper and deeper inside of him, his body arching into the lost contact, and something swelling deep inside of him. The combined heat of Phil practically all over him, with the water from the shower and Dan’s own body temperature rising almost seemed too much, but Dan relished in it.

He couldn’t get enough.

His nerve endings were on fire as Phil continued to pleasure him. He still hadn’t pressed a third finger inside of Dan, however, and he didn’t seem inclined to search for Dan’s prostate, a frustrating realization that made Dan want to scream. He was too choked up to ask Phil what was going on, however, too worked up to even consider opening his mouth to make any kind of noise other than the unintelligible ones currently dripping from his lips. Dan had no control over himself as he started to shake.

And then a feeling that was oddly familiar and yet oddly not began to burn between Dan’s legs, right where Phil’s fingers were pressing. One moment, Phil was pushing up between Dan’s legs, pads of his fingers massaging a place Dan thought was odd, and then the next, a sharp surge of pleasure rocked Dan’s legs even more than they’d already been rocked.

Hands still holding himself up on the wall, Dan felt himself start to slip as he screamed out Phil’s name.

“That’s it, baby,” Phil murmured, breathing hot and heavy against Dan’s low back, where he’d quite suddenly moved. The feel of hot water flowed over Dan, but Phil mouthed over him anyway, moving hurriedly but purposefully, trying to get his face out from under the spray and yet seemingly intent to cover every last inch of Dan’s skin in the feel of Phil’s mouth. “You feel that?” he asked, adjusting himself so that his legs were resting on either side of Dan’s shaking ones.

As pleasure continued to ricochet through Dan, a slow burn of heat building low in the pit of Dan’s stomach, and Dan’s hands started to slip from the bathroom wall to the floor, Dan couldn’t help feeling grateful. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep himself still if it weren’t for Phil’s legs barring Dan’s in place.

Breathless, mind hazy with the feeling of overwhelming pleasure, Dan didn’t respond.

Phil didn’t seem to mind in the least.

“Believe it or not, that’s your prostate, Daniel,” Phil explained, voice wrecked beyond belief for someone who wasn’t currently getting any stimulation himself. “And I’m massaging it from the outside of your body.” His voice was gravely, desperate with desire just at the sight of Dan. Dan’s thighs tensed, and his body clenched around Phil’s fingers, hips rocking down against Phil’s hand that was pressing into what was apparently his prostate, rather than back on the fingers inside of him.

Dan’s mouth dropped open in ecstasy. He was glad he wasn’t under the direct spray of the shower head, or else Dan was certain he’d be drowning from swallowing water.

“I’m going to make you come just from this,” Phil breathed, “I’m going to make you come dry, so you can go again, and again, and again. I’m going to massage you from the inside with my fingers, I’m gonna get my mouth all over you, inside you, until you never forget that you’re mine.”

The feeling was all too much. It was nearly overwhelming, and yet not at the same time. Dan could feel the orgasm growing, the feeling of pleasure washing over him as his vision seemed to white out. Phil’s words were echoing around sharply in his head, knocking the breath out of Dan’s lungs, and yet he couldn’t stop the nonsensical stream of moans dripping from his lips. His orgasm was building, that unending feeling of desperation sparking heat through Dan. The feeling of Phil’s fingers massaging against him was intense beyond belief.

Dan just wanted to come.

His legs jerked and shook as Phil pushed his fingers up against Dan, digging in deep, rolling in smooth, confident circles. His fingers thrusted in and out of Dan so fast, now, that Dan thought he was getting fucked.

He groaned, his nails digging into unyielding linoleum, and his head hanging so low his fringe no longer dripped, it pooled.

A final surge of white hot heat burned through Dan’s veins, and he screamed Phil’s name as he came.

Or at least, he sort of came.

At the last moment, as Dan’s body tensed so hard Phil couldn’t draw his fingers from Dan’s body, Phil drew his hand away from Dan’s prostate and stopped touching him. All stimulation stopped, and while Dan’s hips jerked, while the feeling of orgasm washed over him, his cock stayed hot and hard between his legs, straining and sensitive, but practically useless at what was supposed to be its job.

No come came out. In fact, while Dan felt the euphoria of orgasm wash over him, while Dan recognized that he had technically come, his body continued to roar with arousal and desperate need.

Dan slumped forward, his arse pushing back against Phil, his cheek flat against the shower floor.

He was certain he was drooling.

“Wow,” Phil murmured. “I wasn’t sure that was going to work on the first try,” he admitted, sounding completely awed and so turned on Dan imagined it must hurt.

Phil wasn’t done with him though.

When Dan’s bum unclenched, Phil was able to go back to pushing his fingers in and out of him, this time a much slower drag, one that allowed Dan a moment to catch his breath. Phil moved his other hand to brace it against Dan’s bum, and pulled his cheeks apart in preparation for more, something that Dan’s entire body was already begging for.

As much as Dan wanted more, as much as Dan was desperate for it, Phil didn’t give it to him right away. He took his time, working Dan up slowly, languidly.

Working him up for what, Dan couldn’t remember. His mind was whirling with the fact that he’d just come, untouched, and that his cock wasn’t waning in the least bit. In fact, other than feeling exhausted, Dan wasn’t even oversensitive, the way he usually felt immediately after an orgasm. Instead, his skin was buzzing with the desire for more, an impossibility that only Phil had ever worked to bring out of Dan.

Then, Phil’s fingers pulled free of his body, and he leaned in to press a gentle kiss over Dan’s probably puffy rim.

“Ready, Dan?” Phil asked, voice just loud enough over the never ending stream of the shower.

God, Dan thought. Today alone was going to run the water bill up, but Dan couldn’t bring himself to complain.

The water had run lukewarm, but Dan didn’t mind. He was so hot by now that he almost wished the water was cold.

Closing his eyes, Dan managed a broken nod. While the orgasm had felt good, his cock was throbbing with the desire to come, and something inside of Dan felt incomplete.

He needed more.

Without another word, Phil pressed three fingers against Dan’s rim, and smoothly pushed inside. Phil’s movements were less frantic now as Dan started doing all the work, working himself backwards on Phil’s fingers slowly, hips canting in a gradual rhythm that made pleasure move through Dan’s body in gentle bursts of warm, slow building tension. He never wanted the feeling to end, but he couldn’t deny that when Phil started to take back some of that control, pressing in deeper and very clearly searching for that bundle of nerves inside of Dan, it felt even better.

Moving his hips a little, Dan did his best to help Phil find that spot deep inside of Dan, desperately ready for round two - well, technically, three.

From Dan’s position on the bathroom floor, his body half turned, Dan could just barely see Phil’s face looking down on him, watching the way Dan’s body took his fingers with eyes so dark Dan could see no blue. The sight was intoxicating, and it didn’t help that Phil’s body was flushed a dark red, dripping with water. Dan could only imagine the way Phil’s cock must look like just then.

The hand on Dan’s bottom suddenly moved, disappearing between Phil’s legs, and the sound of slick skin on skin started to fill up the steam filled shower.

“God, you look good like this,” Phil grunted. His fingers fucking into Dan deeper. The movements were a little less measured as Phil seemed to try and take the edge off of his own arousal, but they were still so fucking good that Dan couldn’t find it in himself to complain. He didn’t want to complain, didn’t need to complain, because his mind and his body were coated in a blissful haze of pleasure that every little thing Phil did to him was good.

Dan didn’t know how long it took, or when it happened, but the pads of Phil’s fingers finally found Dan’s prostate, and at the first wild whine from Dan’s hips, Phil turned his fingers down and started to massage Dan from the inside the same way he’d massaged Dan from the outside. They moved in slow, practiced circles, the movements a bit more jerky than before as Phil continued to stroke himself, but nevertheless wonderful. The slow burn of orgasm that usually built in Dan’s stomach started to rise once again, building even slower than when they had fucked that morning, and yet it felt even more deep than any other time they’d fucked. It was like the previous orgasm had crested the needy wave Dan usually felt building inside of him, and was now urging along another side of Dan that Dan wanted to cling onto for dear life.

It was deeper, more primal, more intimate, and with each passing stroke of three fingers over Dan’s prostate, he felt himself slipping further and further into the ever mounting pleasure. Phil felt like heaven over him. Phil felt like an extension of Dan’s body, and as Dan peeled his eyes open to stare at Phil, to stare at the way he touched Dan, the way he worked Dan up, opened him, built the the pleasure inside of Dan in ways he’d never known existed, Dan felt more connected to Phil than he’d ever felt connected to another person.

They felt like one person. Phil was touching Dan in ways Dan had never thought to touch himself before, like he knew Dan’s body better than Dan knew his own. The heat sizzled inside of him, melting like butter, coating his veins and his nerve endings in such bliss that Dan didn’t know how he’d ever live his life again after this. It just felt so good that Dan lost himself to it, giving in completely, jerking his hips backwards, and allowing himself to mumble nonsense at Phil.

His ears were ringing. He couldn’t hear a thing. The pleasure was too much, all encompassing, taking over every single one of Dan’s senses. He didn’t know how he was going to take much more of this, let alone a third orgasm, and yet Dan never wanted it to end.

He wanted Phil’s tongue on him, in him, all around him. He wanted Phil’s body pressed to his, and Phil inside of him for the rest of eternity. He wanted to float on this haze of never ending pleasure for the rest of his life until his heart gave out and he died on the brink of orgasm. He wanted to exist on this plane of existence, with Phil and no one else, for as long as his body would let him.

So of course that was when the second orgasm unfurled inside of him coating his insides, rushing through Dan and rocking him to his core. Phil’s fingers seemed to know just when to withdraw, as he pulled them free at just the right moment again, preventing Dan’s cock from releasing, preventing Dan’s body from untensing, uncoiling.

The motion, the way he was encouraging Dan’s body to orgasm again without actually coming, seemed so well practiced Dan was having trouble believing that this was Phil’s first time. It was hard to believe he’d only just done the research, that he’d only just learned how to milk Dan’s prostate, and yet here he was. Dan’s mouth fell open and he garbled out a broken sounding thank you.

Phil chuckled, and whispered back a soft, “You’re mine,” in the spot just behind Dan’s ear.

He didn’t mind.

He was Phil’s, and he loved Phil, and he knew Phil loved him, and to hell with Dan’s parents. They could pry Phil away from his cold, dead hands, because nothing, nothing, could ever compare to this. Nothing could ever make Dan feel as complete as Phil did, and it was only partially due to the way Phil was working him over, drawing pleasure out of Dan that Dan had never felt before.

Mostly, it just had to do with the fact that Phil was willing to give Dan so much to make him happy. He’d neglected his own cock while simultaneously allowing Dan to work him up into a frenzy. He’d denied his own need to know why Dan was upset, to instead give Dan the kind of comfort, the kind of reassurance, Dan had begged for. Phil had dropped everything the moment Dan had called and asked to come over. Phil had opened his arms, his heart, his home, his life, to Dan, and now he was giving Dan a connection that Dan thought was unbreakable.

It took some time for Dan to work himself down from his second orgasm. His cock ached between his legs, burning from the sensitivity. Dan could feel his balls hanging heavy, desperate for release, and yet his body was warm with the afterglow of a second orgasm. He was floating on a cloud, and it was a struggle to open his eyes to so much as look at Phil.

Phil, who’d removed his hands from Dan’s body, was now desperately jerking himself off over Dan’s back. Dan could now see the angry red tip of Phil’s dick, and the way it oozed at the tip. He could see the unrestrained need flexing every single one of Phil’s muscles, could hear the desperation in his voice as he groaned and grunted, teeth biting down so hard on his bottom lip Dan thought it might bleed.

Phil’s hand was working over himself so fast Dan wondered how it didn’t hurt.

But all he could really focus on was the way Phil had lifted his body to hover over Dan, dick poised to unleash all over him, marking Dan for the millionth time that morning alone. He craved the sensation of Phil coming all over Dan for once, and he forced his eyes to remain open in the hopes he’d actually get to see it. He wanted to watch Phil come apart, wanted to watch the way his cock twitched, wanted to see him drip come all over Dan’s body.

Phil’s wrist flicked as he pushed and pulled at his own foreskin, dragging it up and over his cock so fast it was nearly a blur. Drops of precum oozed down his hand, so much of it Dan was surprised Phil hadn’t actually already come. Phil’s hips fucked into his palm, uncontrollable, the sound of skin on skin growing louder and louder until they were finally eclipsed by the long sound of Phil moaning out his release.

Dan watched as Phil threw his head back, neck arching, adam’s apple bobbing. He watched as Phil’s hips jerked, as come started to stream from Phil’s cock, jerking out in spurts that splattered half on Dan’s back and half on Dan’s bum. The feeling of the shower water, probably long past cold, mixing with the come as it cascaded all over him made Dan shake with pleasure of his own, and he let out a moan that practically matched Phil’s.

He belonged to Phil. He was Phil’s, and no one could take that away from him.

If the way Phil looked while coming all over him was any indication, Phil was his as well. Dan knew that without a shadow of a doubt. If Phil owned Dan’s heart, then Dan owned Phil’s.

Body throbbing with the desire for more, Dan nonetheless couldn’t find it in himself to ask for more, to whine or beg or even let Phil know that Dan was ready for that third round. Instead, he watched Phil through half lidded eyes as Phil came down from his own orgasm.

And wasn’t that a sight - Phil, ruffled and wet, cheeks flushed and mouth dropped open, slack, from pleasure. His hips were shaking, legs straining on the shower floor. The only thing seeming to keep Phil from slumping over was his pleasure, something that seemed to make Phil unable to relax completely. His back was still ramrod straight, back curved in a small bow, as he shook through the feeling.

Dan had done that, technically. Dan had done that purely with his noises, with his body, with the sight and feel of him. Phil had come all over Dan just from pleasuring Dan, and that was enough to make Dan shake with love and affection.

God, fuck, he was the luckiest man alive.

Eventually, Dan couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore. He could still feel the steady pulse of water against his skin, but he felt nothing, wasn’t even sure the water wasn’t ice cold, something Dan normally couldn’t stand. He was too hot, his body aching with two orgasms and the feel of Phil’s mouth burned into his skin, and he was so far gone at this point that he wasn’t sure he’d notice if the world started to end.

He recognized the feel of Phil touching him, though. That wasn’t something Dan was likely to forget for a long time yet. Letting out a soft, needy whine, Dan gave in to the push and pull of Phil’s body against his, as Phil pulled Dan’s bum backwards, and got him settled in a position that was arguably more comfortable.

Then the familiar stream of water came to an abrupt end, and Phil’s body slumped forward, collapsing onto Dan. One arm circled around Dan’s waist, helping to hold him in place.

“I’ve got you,” Phil murmured, pressing kisses all over Dan’s shoulder blades and his back, one hand running soothingly up and down Dan’s side. “Shh, baby, I’ve got you,” he said again, the words turning into a steady mantra as Phil’s hands kept moving. His voice was like gravel, but it was warm and affectionate at the same time. For a moment, Dan didn’t know why Phil was trying to soothe Dan, and then Dan realized that he was crying, softly, panting out whines of pleasure. Tears were definitely dripping down his cheeks, however, and while Dan was sure Phil knew he wasn’t in pain, it was still a little bit mortifying.

Phil had fucked him passed the point of coherency, and gotten Dan to cry.

Fuck, fuck.

His balls hurt with the need for release.

“Needa come,” Dan mumbled, unsure if Phil would hear him.

He did.

“I know, let me help you,” Phil murmured back, starting to skate his mouth back down Dan’s back, licking and biting over the curve of Dan’s spine, dipping into the small of his back, and flowing down the curve of his arse.

Dan knew what was coming, but he still wasn’t prepared for it. Phil’s hands gripped both buttcheeks and stretched Dan open, and his face moved in between so Phil could get at him with his mouth.

The first touch of his tongue against Dan’s rim was torture. It felt so good that Dan’s body spasmed, and he clenched around nothing. Phil’s fingers tightened around Dan’s bottom as he started to work at Dan in earnest, his tongue moving in long, heady stripes up and down Dan’s entrance. Dan could feel every breath that Phil took, could feel the way he panted against Dan, but his mouth was warm and wet and the hot muscle of his tongue was laving over Dan so insistently that Dan could do nothing but whine and arch his bum backwards, doing all that he could to get more more more.

Phil’s hands kept Dan mostly in place as Phil licked him, his tongue everywhere. It ran around Dan’s rim in circles, flicked up, and down, and over it. It smoothed over him in delicious waves that made ecstasy fill Dan’s veins. It was wet, and slippery, and very much so unlike a dick or even fingers in the deft way it could move.

Not to mention the feel.

There was nothing quite like it.

Suddenly, Dan wondered if this is how his ex-girlfriend used to feel when Dan would eat her out, because if it was, he suddenly understood just why she liked it so much.

Dan’s skin was on fire. He could feel himself shivering. He could hear the sounds Phil made slurping at Dan’s body, taking all that he could get.

It was everything. Phil moved his mouth like he’d never tasted something better than Dan’s arse. He sucked at Dan like he couldn’t get enough, puckering his lips around Dan’s rim and sucking sharply. The feeling sent sharp, pulsing sensations through Dan’s body, made his legs feel like jelly. Dan would have fallen if it weren’t for the way Phil was pressed up behind him, hands on his bum, locking him in place.

Dan inhaled water, and gasped it back out in the same moment, eyes bunching up with need.

And then Phil pressed the tip of his tongue inside of Dan, and Dan felt himself starting to unfurl. Phil was proper tongue fucking him now, wiggling the slick muscle past Dan’s loose muscles and getting in as deep as he could. The first touch of Phil’s tongue against Dan’s inside walls made him scream, and his toes curl, his body shaking with the need for release. His orgasm rushed at him, faster than it ever had before, as Phil thrust his tongue in and out, sucking at Dan’s rim with the warm pucker of his mouth, and licking into him so deftly that Dan thought he would die from just this.

Perhaps it was the fact that he’d been, technically, on edge for so long. Perhaps it was because he was ready to burst, or just the fact that this was about as much as Dan’s body could take before it, too, had to unravel. Perhaps it was just the fact that Dan had technically already come twice in a row, far more times than he’d ever come so close together before, but whatever it was, Dan’s orgasm ripped through him so quickly Dan almost felt normal.

He lout out a long, wailing keen, his hips fighting against Phil’s tight grip, as his balls clenched and then released, his cock pulsating as Dan started to come. Thick, long ropes of come painted the shower floor as Dan’s body slumped, and exhaustion took him over. The electric feeling of orgasm sparked through him, and as he gave into it, Phil continued to lick at him, hands rough but oh so good on Dan’s skin.

Dan’s vision went black, but he didn’t pass out. Not really. He could still feel the wonderful feeling of orgasm flooding through him, could still feel Phil licking at him, nudging him through his orgasm, working his body like the expert that he was.

Dan was just floating.

His head felt overcome with endorphins, and he was floating.

#phanfic #phanfiction #phandom #phan #phanfictioncatalogue #too tense to be undone

137 notes · View notes