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kumkaniudaku · 2 months ago

Text

Caught

Summary: When their guest is away, Terry and Patrice will play.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 3,067

Warnings: Smut (18+ content)

Recommended Reading: Spoiled

Author's Note: Spoiled, Back Up, and Caught all happen on the same linear timeline. Consider them present day events. Hopefully that helps pull things together because you'll need the context later. Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays!

"Mommy, the recipe for the hand pies is so good. Thank you for finding it for me."

"Oh, of course, baby. One day, I gotta get you to help me put all your Nana's recipes in a book or something. I'm tired of digging through all these scraps of paper."

"I didn't wanna say anything, but that's insane. I can barely read her handwriting."

Rosalyn scoffed on the other end of the phone line. "You and me both. I have to call Sybil every time or end up making up what I think goes there. I cook. I don't decipher chicken scratch."

Patrice laughed along with her mother as she passed a piping hot meatball over her shoulder to satisfy her taste tester for the night. He hummed his approval of her gift, providing a thumbs up as his rating before returning his hand to her waist and swaying them in time with the slow rhythm of Christmas music playing in the background.

Christmas Eve brought preparation for the big day on the other side of a wake-up and a smaller get-together to celebrate Imani's and Jesus's birthdays in one evening. Patrice had offered to continue the tradition at her house to accommodate her cousin's request for loud music, liquor, and good, grown folks' fun. In a few short minutes, she and Terry would have a house full of adults gorging themselves on party food and fighting fits of giggles during a drunk game of Taboo. For now, she'd enjoy the calm before the storm with her shadow attached at the hip.

"The cinnamon smell for the apple version was way too strong, though. I almost skipped those altogether."

Rosalyn responded with a sound of cautious curiosity. "Really? You usually love the smell of cinnamon."

"Right," Patrice exclaimed. "Maybe I had a bad batch or something. It doesn't taste bad, but it smelled awful."

"Hm." Rosalyn filed the information in her head for a later moment of privacy, preferring not to stress her daughter with the questions buzzing around in the mind of a mother who knew her child better than anyone in the world. Instead, she continued. "Terry, did you like the hand pies?"

"You don't know if Terry is even in here, mama. He could be anywhere in the house," Patrice answered, her face screwed in confusion.

"Child, don't insult me. If you're in the kitchen, Terry is in the kitchen."

She wasn't wrong. A few too many glasses of Patrice's special holiday cocktail mixed with his ever-present desire to feel his wife at all times had Terry sticking to her like glue. Even after she'd given in to each of his kisses and allowed him to taste her the moment Imani stepped out to run a few errands, she still couldn't shake him. Whiskey was in control. Terry was only along for the ride.

He chuckled into the crook of Patrice's neck before confirming his presence. "Yes, ma'am, I loved the pies. Treece made a few on the side for me so I wouldn't have to share."

"She still got you spoiled, I see."

"Nah, not too bad. You know she gets sweet once a week. I caught her on a good day."

"Oh, hush."

Patrice's attempt to get out of Terry's grasp came up empty, prompting him to hold her tighter and press wet kisses onto the back of her neck. She was sadly mistaken if she thought she could get away from him that easy while Uncle Nearest was pumping through his veins.

"Well, let me let you two go," Rosalyn started with a small laugh. "Tell me how the chicken salad turns out. I might throw some together as a little snack for your daddy tomorrow. You know how he gets when he's ready to eat."

"Mhmm. Just like somebody else I know."

Terry patiently waited for Patrice to wrap up her conversation and safely end the call before resuming his handsy approach to PDA. His hands slid up and down the fabric of her cotton pajama pants, the pair matching his at her request. Full lips attached to her neck, creating a light suction with every open-mouthed kiss.

His wife rolled her eyes as she loaded a pita chip with dip for his culinary opinion. "You are insatiable, TJ. Taste this."

He obliged, opening wide as she slid food into his mouth and waited for a response. Instead of a verbal assessment of her work, he kissed her cheek twice to signal his approval, then returned to his shameless groping.

"How long before Imani gets back?"

"I don't know. Fifteen minutes or so. She only went to grab some more cups and water."

Terry's eyes flickered to the digital clock on the stove before sliding his hands up Patrice's torso and leaving a trail of kisses on her shoulder. "Think you got a few minutes to get back to what we started?"

"Haven't you had enough of me yet? We've been going at it every day since New Orleans."

"What you think?"

Having enough of her touch, the feeling of her body against his, or her attention was a foreign concept for Terry. If he could quit his job and be totally devoted to her pleasure, he would do so without a second thought. Fortunately for him, though, extended absences from the slough of office life due to the holidays provided the closest opportunity to spend the whole day in it.

Patrice smiled to herself as Terry slowly removed the serving spoon from her hand, bringing her delicate palm up to the back of his head. Coarse hair grown into a short tuft of curls and shaped by his barber tickled her fingertips as she closed her eyes, officially caught up in how Terry caressed her with the care afforded to precious works of art.

A low purr slipped past his lips as his hands slid beneath the hem of her camisole to rub her stomach, filling her ears and mind with filthy sounds and images from earlier in the hour. Had he had enough of her? She wasn't sure she'd had enough of him.

His fingertips inched higher, further intoxicating Patrice until a full squeeze on both breasts at the same time made her hiss and wince in pain.

"Easy, baby," she complained as she gently pressed down on his arms to direct him away from the sensitive area. "They're super tender right now. I'm not sure why."

Lust was quickly replaced by concern as Terry dropped his hands and turned Patrice to face him. "You okay?"

"I'm fine, Pooh. It's probably the tattoo healing.

"Yeah, but it shouldn't be making the entire area hurt. Especially not on both sides. Let me look."

"Terry, you never just look."

His attempt to slide the thin straps of her tank top down her arms was quickly cut short as Patrice brushed off his contact to save herself from what she assumed would come next. Her aching was a serious matter. Terry getting a look at her bare tits was not nearly as high on the list.

Terry softened his eyes in unmistakable sincerity. "I'm serious, Treece. I know what it should look like. Come here."

Patrice didn't protest as Terry led her to the kitchen table. She stood perfectly still until Terry was comfortable in one of the chairs and then placed her between his legs.

He gingerly pushed her tanktop straps down her arms before bunching the thin fabric at her waist to free her breasts, watching for any sign of discomfort.

"You don't think you're like…sick, do you?"

"I think it's just tenderness," she quickly retorted, wanting to push the thought of more grave explanations for her discomfort far from her mind.

"Okay, okay. I'm only asking."

Her brows furrowed as he lifted the right side to get a look at the moment from a charged few days in his family's old stomping grounds.

A day alone and nothing to do but explore had them wandering into the same shady tattoo parlor where Terry got his first piece for matching ink. Terry opted to tat their wedding date on his ribs after having to be talked down from plastering her name on his neck. Patrice, however, was set on making her first experience one to remember.

Slanted script crafted from his handwriting spelled Terry's full first name, curving just under the crease of her boob and the spot that he liked to grip in the depths of passion or simply at his leisure. Terry ran his thumb along each letter to check for abrasions or abnormalities.

He looked up at Patrice to gauge her reaction. "That hurt?"

"Not really. It's more here," she added, gesturing toward her areola. "Anything rubbing against it is so uncomfortable. I can barely wear a bra."

"I noticed. They've honestly been looking a little bigger. Do they feel heavy to you?"

"Not heavy. Mostly…full? They look great, though. I'm not complaining about that part."

She joked, the attempt sounding silly once it received no reaction past Terry blinking as he used the pad of his thumb to ghost contact over her pebbled nipple to test her pain level. It was challenging to stay present, with a third of her upper half unnecessarily exposed in their kitchen for no real reason. The entire ordeal felt like a farce. Terrence wasn't a doctor, and him holding her titties in his hands like fleshy snowglobes was as much an actual check-up as WWE was real wrestling.

When she giggled like a teenager learning about sex for the first time, Terry looked up at her with a quizzical expression, and his left eyebrow lifted high. "What's so funny?"

"You, Doctor Richmond," she laughed. "How can you tell they're bigger? I couldn't even tell until the other day."

"I spend a lot of time with my girls. I better notice when they change. Been looking at them since I was sixteen." Terry answered, a boyish grin making his cheekbones nearly touch the corner of his eyes.

"I knew you used to look!" She exclaimed, finally feeling vindicated in her suspicions from childhood.

"Looking was the least of what I was doing." He shrugged as he gently pushed both breasts together for his own viewing pleasure. He kissed the small crease they made two times over, then looked up at Patrice through long lashes. "Unfortunately, ma'am, I couldn't diagnose you, but I think I have some treatment available if you're interested."

Patrice bit back a smile to play along. "Oh yeah? How much is this gonna cost? It's the holidays, and I ain't got it."

"I offer payment plans that we can discuss in that room back there later tonight."

"I like the sound of that," she answered, previous problems vanishing into thin air as he roped her back into his web of liquor-charged desire.

"I knew you would," he winked. "Don't move."

Tingles rippled across Patrice's skin while she listened for any indication of Terry's secretive treatment plan. The soft crack and subsequent rush of cool from the freezer created goosebumps on her bare chest, making her nipples jut out proud from the sensation. Next came the cupboard opening and shutting in two seconds time. From the direction, she could tell he was grabbing a glass from over the sink.

Ice cubes clinked against the cup like little masters of whispers attempting to give Patrice the scoop on what to expect. Terry quietly shut the freezer and took heavy steps back to his seat, smiling at how Patrice truly hadn't moved a muscle in his few minutes away.

He placed the glass on the table behind him before tugging her hand to guide her closer. "Cold hot therapy. I sprained my knee once, and this got me back up and running in no time. Ice for the cold…" Terry's voice trailed as he plucked a piece of ice from his glass and pressed it to her nipple. He watched her jaw drop with a sharp inhale, intently focused on the way her eyelids fluttered closed at the sudden shock of frozen water. When a single drop began to make a trail down the swell of her breast, he pulled the ice away and brought his mouth closer. "And I'll take care of the hot."

"Oh…my God."

Whispers of unexpected pleasure sent Terry into a far-off place where he was only concerned with running a flat tongue across supple skin. Patrice rushed to steady herself by bringing her hands to the back of his head, cradling him while he went to work.

Ice cold. Soothing warmth. Ice cold. Soothing warmth and a light suckle. Again. And again.

He eyed her like a lion watches prey, taking notes of every little sound and twitch to know that he was fulfilling his job.

"Good job, baby," Patrice whispered, her head tossed back and praises spoken to the ceiling. "Good fuckin' job."

Terry ran his hands up the back of her thighs to roughly grip her ass. He groaned at the affirmation before pulling away to retrieve more ice. He held a small cube between his teeth to multitask, running it across her left nipple and areola until it had melted enough to fit both in his mouth.

Was it fixing her tenderness issue? Not really. But Patrice would be damned if his subtle slurping and moaning with her backside firmly in his clutches wasn't sufficiently taking her mind off things. So far off, she'd lost all concept of time and space.

While Terry pulled Patrice into his lap for a more intensive inspection, Imani entered the house high off the exhilarating freedom that can only come for night drives with a carefully curated playlist blasting from the speakers. Being stateside for the first time in a year was the perfect opportunity to experience one of life's simple pleasures.

Grocery bags rustled and knocked against the wall as she hummed along to the fragmented lyrics from a song on her Spotify playlist still coursing through her brain. A short pause in her personal concert to lock the door left space to hear a string of curious noises. Muffled half-sentences and a sort of trembling sigh made her quirk an eyebrow. She thought to herself that Terry and Patrice left the television on far too often for a pair of people who claimed to not spend much time in front of the tube, but quickly found that they'd taken to making a scene the old-fashioned way.

She stood in the open space, a perfectly shaped eyebrow pushed high on her face and an impressed smirk tugging at the right corner of her lip while she watched her baby cousin makeout with Imani's newest family member with a ferocity she didn't know Patrice had in her.

Patrice held Terry steady by his jaw, slightly hovering over him while she had her way leading a sloppy kiss. When she moved to push his head back toward her chest with a string of words filthy enough to make a pornstar blush, Imani cleared her throat to finally announce her presence.

"Oh shit," Patrice yelped, rushing to tap Terry's back and end his check-up.

His head popped up to survey the room, then slowly found a home on top of Patrice's once she pressed close enough against his chest to cover her naked breasts. The vibrations from his concealed chortling made Patrice pinch him in frustration. Nothing was funny, at least not to her.

Imani held her hands up in faux surrender. "No, please. Don't stop on account of me," she laughed. "Y'all were just getting started."

"We are so sorry, Moanie. This isn't what it looks like. Well, this part is exactly what it looks like, but I promise it didn't start like this. Terry was looking at my boobs to check on my tattoo and -"

"Girl, you do not have to explain anything to me. This is your house! Honestly, if I had those big ol' mommy titties, I'd want them in somebody's face too. And you got them for free! The girls gotta go under the knife or get pregnant for those. How does it feel to be God's favorite? Terry, can you help me get the water out of the car when you finish?"

Terry looked down at his visibly distressed wife and then back at Imani to save face for the both of them. "Yeah, I got you. Gimme a minute."

Moanie didn't notice how she'd launched her cousin into an internal spiral as she pranced off to busy herself with getting ready in her room for the week, but Terry did. He carefully sat Patrice up and helped redress her, careful to ease into conversation.

"You alright?"

"I had my cycle this month," Patrice rushed out, her gaze far off as Terry lifted her arm to put it back in her camisole strap. "It can't be that. I had my cycle." When her focus returned, her eyes snapped to Terry's for confirmation. "Right? I did, right?"

He nodded, unsure of how to proceed to quell her fear. "You did, baby. But, maybe…"

Sure, it was lighter than usual, but she'd had a cycle. Her body functioned like it did every month, on time and without pomp and circumstance. There was no cause for concern.

But…maybe.

Patrice looked down at her belly then back up at Terry, searching for answers in his sympathetic expression. He leaned forward and held her head with both hands to give her a kiss she couldn't return before he spoke.

"Don't drink tonight. Just in case. We'll figure it out in the morning. Okay?"

"Okay." She whispered back without truly processing the gravity of his instruction.

Terry slowly lifted Patrice from his lap to fulfill Imani's request for assistance, leaving her to stand perfectly still in the kitchen. She counted backward in her head, retracing her steps and important dates until a headache sent her to take a seat.

It was just tenderness. It'd go away by morning, and all of this would be a silly story to tell whenever they got together in the spring for their European honeymoon. She'd drink an entire bottle of wine over heaps of pasta, turning the whole situation into a fond memory before raising her hand to call the server for another round. All water under the bridge, right?

But…maybe.

------

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#aaron pierre #terry richmond #terry richmond x oc #rebel ridge #ficmas

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yassbishimvintage · 2 months ago

Text

Shut it Down

Warnings: Smut, Fluff

Word Count: 2.8k

MDNI!

A/N: Merry Christmas y'all.

The sun was shining down in Imani’s face. She had to tear herself away from Terry this morning. Her sister Maya wanted to have breakfast with her to check in. “So now that he’s home how is he?” She asks. Imani sighs. She had to be careful of how she answered the next question. Even though Terry loved her family like his own, he still didn’t want to show weakness.

Imani sipped her coffee as her sister, Maya, watched her curiously from across the diner booth. They had always been close, and Maya could read her like a book. Setting her mug down, Imani took a moment to gather her thoughts before answering.

"He’s... adjusting," Imani replied softly. "It’s been tough for him. Losing Mike, the stress of everything back in Shelby Springs... it’s a lot to process."

Maya nodded, her brow furrowing with concern. "That man has been through hell and back, hasn’t he?" she said. "But what about you? You okay? I know you’re strong, but you can’t pour from an empty cup, sis."

Imani smiled faintly at her sister's words. "I’m okay," she said, though the truth was more complicated. "I just want to be there for him, you know? He’s carrying so much, and I can see it weighing on him. Some days he’s better, but others... it’s like he’s still fighting a battle, just in his head now."

Maya reached across the table and placed her hand over Imani’s. "You’re doing more than enough, Imani. He’s lucky to have you. But make sure he knows it’s okay to lean on you, really lean on you. Sometimes men like him think they have to bear it all alone."

Imani nodded. "I try to remind him of that every day," she said. "Last night, he... he let me in a little more. It’s progress, I guess. I just want him to see that he’s not alone anymore."

Maya leaned back, studying her sister. "You love him, don’t you?"

"With everything in me," Imani said without hesitation.

Maya smiled. "Then he’s got a fighting chance. But don’t forget—taking care of yourself is part of taking care of him. Don’t lose sight of that."

Imani gave her sister a grateful look, appreciating the reminder. "I won’t," she promised. "Thanks, Maya."

"Anytime," Maya said with a wink. "Now, tell me more about this roast beef dinner you made last night. I’m starting to think you’re spoiling that man."

Imani chuckled. "I might be. But he deserves it."

They spent the rest of breakfast laughing and catching up, Imani feeling lighter after the conversation. She had her sister's support, and that meant everything.She smirks. “Now. How’s the sex?” She asks. Imani nearly choked on her coffee, her eyes widening as she looked at Maya. "Really? That’s what you’re asking me right now?" she said, trying to keep her voice down.

Maya raised an eyebrow, unbothered by Imani’s reaction. "Of course, I’m asking. You’ve been glowing lately, so either it’s the sex, or you’ve found a new skincare routine, and I know you too well to believe the latter."

Imani rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile from tugging at her lips. "It’s… amazing, as always," she admitted, her voice dropping slightly. "He’s just... so attentive. Like, he takes his time, you know? Makes sure I’m good before anything else."

Maya leaned in, her interest clearly piqued. "Girl, go on. Don’t leave me hanging."

Imani laughed softly, shaking her head. "Let’s just say he knows exactly what I need, even when I don’t say it. And he’s so... gentle with me, but not too gentle, if you know what I mean."

Maya grinned mischievously. "Oh, I know what you mean. Big, strong, marine boyfriend who’s soft for you but can turn it up when needed? Imani, you’re living the dream."

Imani blushed but couldn’t help laughing. "Okay, enough about my sex life. How’s yours?"

Maya waved her hand dismissively. "Nonexistent at the moment, but that’s fine. I’m focused on me right now. But seriously, I’m happy for you. It sounds like Terry really sees you and loves you the way you deserve."

Imani nodded, her expression softening. "He does. And I don’t take that for granted, not for a second."

Maya raised her coffee mug in a toast. "To men who love us right and know how to handle business."

Imani laughed, clinking her mug against her sister’s. "I’ll drink to that.” Maya turns her head to glance out the window. She sees a black GMC Dua..ley pull into the parking lot. “Who’s that?” she asks.

Imani turned to look where Maya was pointing and spotted the large GMC Dually parked a few spaces away. The truck was pristine, its black paint gleaming under the morning sun, with chrome accents that looked freshly polished. It stood out among the sedans and SUVs in the lot.

Imani raised an eyebrow, recognizing it immediately. "That’s Terry’s truck."

Maya’s eyes widened as she leaned closer to the window. "Wait, he followed you here? What is he, your bodyguard now?"

Imani couldn’t help but chuckle. "No, he probably just wanted to check in on me. You know how he is."

Maya smirked. "Yeah, overprotective and a little territorial. But honestly, can you blame him? Look at you."

Imani rolled her eyes but smiled, gathering her things. "Come on, let’s go say hi before he thinks I’m avoiding him."

As they stepped outside, Terry climbed out of the truck, his towering frame and confident stride impossible to miss. He wore a simple fitted T-shirt and jeans, but the way he carried himself made him look effortlessly commanding.

"Hey, babe," Imani called, walking up to him. "What are you doing here?"

Terry flashed her a small smile, his eyes softening when they met hers. "Just wanted to see you. Figured you might want to grab lunch after you’re done with your sister."

Maya crossed her arms, looking between them with a teasing grin. "You’re setting the bar way too high for the rest of us, Terry. Showing up unannounced just to take her to lunch?"

Terry shrugged, his smile turning a bit sheepish. "What can I say? I like spending time with her."

Imani shook her head, trying to hide her amusement. "Well, since you’re here, why don’t you come sit with us for a bit?"

Terry glanced at Maya, who raised her hands in mock surrender. "Don’t worry, big guy. I’ll keep the embarrassing sister stories to a minimum."

He chuckled, holding the door open for both women. "Appreciate that."

Maya smirks and quickly asks him. “So tell me Mr Marine. What kind of sex spell you got on my little sister.” She says

Terry paused mid-step, his brow arching as a slow smirk spread across his face. "Excuse me?" he asked, his deep voice laced with amusement. He glanced at Imani, who was already groaning in embarrassment, her hand covering her face.

"Maya!" Imani hissed, shooting her sister a glare.

"What?" Maya said innocently, shrugging as she took her seat. "I’m just saying. She’s been glowing since y’all got together, and I’m convinced it’s not just the happy weight."

Terry chuckled, taking the chair beside Imani and resting an arm casually on the back of her seat. His eyes flicked to Maya with a mischievous gleam. "Let’s just say I aim to please," he said smoothly, his tone playful but carrying enough weight to make Maya blink in surprise.

Imani gasped, turning to him. "Terry!"

He laughed, leaning over to kiss her temple. "What? She asked."

Maya burst out laughing, clapping her hands. "Alright, I see you, Marine. No wonder she’s hooked."

Imani shook her head, trying to hide her smile. "You’re impossible, both of you."

Maya grinned, picking up her coffee. "Hey, I’m just trying to figure out why you’re so happy all the time. If it’s because of him, then props to you, Terry. You’re doing something right."

Terry shrugged, his expression softening as he looked at Imani. "She deserves to be happy. That’s all that matters to me."

Maya tilted her head, a rare seriousness settling in her tone. "Well, as long as you keep that mindset, we’re good. I’m just looking out for my baby sister."

Terry nodded, his voice steady. "I wouldn’t expect anything less."

Imani glanced between the two, her heart full as she reached for Terry’s hand under the table, giving it a squeeze.

When she gets in his truck she rests her head on the glass. Everytime he drives his hand rests on her thigh.

As Terry drove, the hum of the engine and the subtle rhythm of the tires on the pavement filled the quiet between them. Imani leaned her head against the cool window, her thoughts wandering as the scenery blurred past. The warmth of Terry’s hand resting on her thigh was a steadying comfort, grounding her in the moment.

It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes about their bond. His thumb moved in absentminded circles, a habit he had whenever his hand found its home there. She glanced down at it and smiled softly, her fingers drifting to rest lightly over his.

"You okay, baby?" he asked, his deep voice breaking the silence.

She turned her head slightly to look at him, the way his strong hands gripped the wheel and how his eyes flicked between her and the road. "I’m okay," she replied, her voice gentle. "Just thinking."

Terry gave her thigh a small squeeze, his way of saying he was there for her without needing words. "About what?"

"About how much I love this," she said softly, her eyes meeting his for a brief second before returning to the passing view outside.

"This?" he asked, his brow arching slightly.

"This," she repeated, covering his hand with hers. "The little things. You driving us, your hand here...it’s just us. I love it."

Terry smiled, his expression softening as he gave her thigh another squeeze. "I love it too," he said simply.

And with that, they fell back into a comfortable silence, letting the unspoken connection between them speak louder than words ever could.

He pulls over. She lifts her head up confused. Terry eased the truck onto the shoulder of the quiet road, the hum of the engine settling into a low idle. He turned to her, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "Let’s play 'wandering hand,'" he said, his voice deep and teasing, the hint of mischief in his eyes unmistakable.

Imani couldn't help but roll her eyes, though a soft laugh escaped her. "Terry," she said, her tone half-amused, half-scolding.

"What?" he replied, feigning innocence as his free hand left the steering wheel and settled on her knee. "You know the rules."

His fingers began their slow, deliberate journey, trailing up her thigh in featherlight strokes that sent a shiver through her. Imani pressed her lips together, trying to maintain composure, but the way his touch lingered just enough to tease made her heart race.

"You’re impossible," she muttered, though there was no real annoyance in her voice.

"And you love it," he shot back, his grin widening as his hand slipped just beneath the hem of her skirt.

Imani reached out, placing her hand over his to halt his progress, though the sparkle in her eyes betrayed her resolve. "You’re going to get us caught, Terry."

"We’re parked," he said, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur that sent heat spiraling through her. "And it’s not like anyone’s around."

She bit her lip, trying to resist the pull of his charm, but when his lips brushed against her neck and his hand resumed its exploration, resistance became futile. "You’re lucky I love you," she whispered, her voice shaky as she gave in to the moment.

His soft chuckle against her skin was his only reply as the game of "wandering hand" took on a life of its own, the world outside the truck fading into the background.

Terry’s hand paused at the waistband of her panties, his fingers teasingly slipping just beneath the fabric. His breath was warm against her ear as he murmured, “You gonna let me keep going, baby?”

Imani’s breath hitched, her body responding before her mind could form words. She glanced at him, her gaze caught in the intensity of his eyes. “Terry...” she began, her voice soft, laced with a mix of hesitation and desire.

His thumb stroked the delicate skin of her hip, his lips brushing against the corner of her mouth. “Say the word, and I’ll stop,” he said, his voice calm but thick with want. “But if you want me to keep going... I need to hear you say it.”

Her heartbeat thundered in her chest as she let out a shaky exhale. The heat of his hand, the gentle yet deliberate pressure of his touch, sent sparks skittering through her. “Don’t stop,” she whispered, her words barely audible, but they carried all the permission he needed.

Terry leaned in, capturing her lips with his as his hand slid lower, exploring her with the same care and attention that always left her breathless. The world outside the truck was forgotten entirely as they lost themselves in each other, the quiet intimacy between them deepening with every touch and kiss.

When they finally pulled apart, both breathless and tangled in the charged energy of the moment, Terry rested his forehead against hers. “You drive me crazy, you know that?” he whispered, his voice low and full of emotion.

Imani smiled, her cheeks flushed. “Right back at you,” she replied softly, her hands resting on his shoulders as the truck’s engine purred quietly in the background.

“Now I’m turned on and we’re no where near home.” She says.

Terry smirked, his eyes darkening with mischief. “Who said we need to be home for me to take care of you?” he teased, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down her spine.

Imani raised an eyebrow at him, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Oh, so you’re bold now, huh?”

He chuckled, leaning in closer so his lips brushed against her ear. “I’ve always been bold, baby. You just bring it out of me.”

Her cheeks flushed as she swatted at his chest. “Terry, you’re impossible.”

He grinned, his hand still resting possessively on her thigh. “Only for you.”

His hand moved up her thigh as they drove down the road. His thumb doing lazy circles on her exposed skin.

As Terry’s hand moved higher up her thigh, Imani let out a soft breath, feeling the warmth of his touch spread through her. She glanced over at him, catching the glint of mischief in his eyes as his thumb traced slow, deliberate circles. Her heart raced a little, the anticipation of their playful energy making her pulse quicken.

That’s when she couldn’t take it anymore. Not the first time and won’t be the last time they had car sex. In her head she thanks him for the dark tint on the windows. Imani maneuvers herself over the console. She straddles him. “You know I hate car sex.” She says.

Terry chuckles softly, his hands resting on her hips as she straddles him. “You always say that, but then you seem to enjoy it once we get started.” He smirks, his lips brushing against her ear as he speaks.

Imani laughs quietly, leaning in closer. “It’s the lack of space. I like to take my time,” she responds, her hands sliding up his chest as she finds comfort in the familiar closeness of his body.

He presses his forehead to hers, his voice turning playful but with a touch of sincerity. “If you don’t like it, we can always find somewhere else next time.”

She smiles, feeling the warmth of his embrace. "Next time,” she repeats softly, her fingers trailing down his chest, slowly teasing. “But for now...” she leans in, kissing him deeply as her body melts into his.

Terry, ever responsive to her, deepens the kiss, his hands moving to the small of her back to pull her even closer. As the moment lingers, they forget about the cramped space, lost in the connection they share.

“Now. Let me hear you moan for me real fast.” He says. She moans as his hands reach their destination. One thing that always made sure that made him on rock hard was her moans. In the next breath, “Now. Tell me you love me.” He says.

As they arrived at their destination, Imani instinctively reached for Terry's hand, intertwining her fingers with his. She gave it a gentle squeeze, glancing up at him with a soft smile.

“You ready?” she asked, her voice filled with warmth and reassurance.

Terry nodded, his grip on her hand firm yet tender. “As long as you’re with me, I’m ready for anything,” he replied, his tone carrying the weight of his sincerity.

Tags 🏷️

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @avoidthings @nayaesworld @haechvn @writingsbytee @grlsbstshot @haechvn @ovohanna24 @skvrpion @megamindsecretlair @kimuzostar @notpradagurl7 @kenshisluvrgirl @planetblaque

#terry richmond smut #terry richmond x black oc #aaron pierre #terry richmond #terry richmond x oc #aaron pierre smut #Spotify

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hysteria-things · 2 months ago

Note

soft gentle sex with chris WOULD BE SOO DAMN GOOD LIKE HAVE MERCYYY

on a lazy day type shit😩

(yes i’m answering more blurbs from a while ago because i’m horny as hell right now)

ALSO HI IMANI I MISSED YOU

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❦ ⋆⁺₊⋆

“mmm… mmph, fuck.” chris’ quiet groans escape his throat, cock nuzzled deep into your pussy while he thrusts softly.

it’s one of those sundays when you and your boyfriend hang out at his house and do nothing all day. a candle is lit in the corner of his room—the one you got him because chris will never buy a candle for himself—and music plays lowly from his speaker.

you two have to be aware that his brothers are home, hence the soft gasps and low moans leaving your lips. your bare bodies press against each other, his mouth kissing your neck lovingly. “my beautiful girl.” he whispers, nipping at your earlobe. “so, so beautiful.”

crossing your legs at his waist, you move impossibly closer to him. your hands play with his messy hair, bottom lip grazing his shoulder. when he picks his head up, you grab his cheeks to look into his eyes as you continue to make those pretty sounds.

“hi,” you whine with fluttered eyelids, legs quivering when he starts to hit your g-spot nice and slow.

he chuckles with a smile, pecking you on the lips. “hi, baby…”

#. ˚ ◞ ♡ haleigh’s inbox!

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sellasstories · 7 months ago

Text

CLOSE (II)

word count: 4.9k

pairing: paige bueckers x azzi fudd

⚠️warnings⚠️:

slightly explicit themes, light angst, swearing

prompts:

what happens when two best friends with strong, undefined feelings quarantine together (part 2: paige)

in other words, the pazzi covid fic

Azzi gazes at the girl beside her, taking in Paige’s long lashes and the way the sun streaming in from the window is practically making the blonde glow.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” Azzi says softly, leaning in and placing a hand on Paige’s arm. She realizes too late that she doesn’t know if her best friend is awake yet.

“Fuck, Az, not so loud,” groans Paige, not bothering to open her eyes.

Azzi jerks her head back in disgust. “Your breath smells awful!” She ignores the other part of herself that fixated on how the words sounded coming out of her best friend’s mouth. “Sorry, I just need to know what you did with the bottle,” she whispers, a hint of anxiety piercing her voice.

Paige only gets closer. Seemingly unbothered by Azzi’s concern, she buries her face in the dark-haired girl’s neck. “It’s hidden, we’re good.”

After the night she’s had, the feeling of Paige’s lips on her neck (which, she quickly realizes, has never happened before) is entirely too much for Azzi to deal with.

“Paige, tell me.”

“Closet. Hamper, under clothes.” Her head falls back onto the pillow and it seems like the blonde falls asleep almost instantly.

Azzi bites her bottom lip almost hard enough to draw blood. And since she already seems to be in her own personal hell, she admits to herself that Paige may have had a hand in (or entirely been the cause of) the sudden swooping sensation in her stomach.

Looking around for her phone, Azzi takes two photos. The first shows the curtain of blonde hair doing little to hide all the points of contact between Paige’s face and Azzi’s neck. The second shows the pale hand nearly digging into Azzi’s exposed side, the pushed up hoodie (she’d always recognize it as Paige’s) making it look even more suggestive.

She knows it’s a bad idea, maybe even a terrible one, but she tells herself that she’s going to use them for something productive, like sending them to Imani (whoever she is) and telling her to back off. It doesn’t even sound convincing to her. She’s fucking ridiculous.

Reluctantly, Azzi pulls herself out of her best friend’s tight embrace, only managing to do so as the blonde appears to have completely knocked out again. She gives her head a firm shake but instantly regrets it as she feels her headache worsen.

Sighing, she stands up and makes her way to the bathroom. Soothed by the familiar morning routines of washing her face and brushing her teeth (the bitter aftertaste in her mouth taking a while to go away), Azzi is able to look at her reflection without wanting to scream.

Making fun of herself has always been her best defence mechanism, so she does a stupid pose in the mirror and takes a stupid photo of herself in Paige’s hoodie and posts a stupid ‘Who wore it better?’ poll on her private story. She’s been sitting on the counter brainstorming what to do with the bottle for less than three minutes when a FaceTime from Colleen covers her phone screen.

Azzi is quick to answer, not even getting a greeting in before her friend blurts out, “So what’s up with you and Paige?”

Eyes widening, Azzi hops off the counter to find headphones, frantically mashing the volume button down before Colleen can say anything else.

“What are you even talking about?” She whispers once she’s settled back in the bathroom.

The other girl shrugs. “Did something happen between you two?”

Azzi still doesn’t get it. “Like, a fight? We’re fine, I promise. Why are you asking, though? Did Paige say something to you?” She hopes her voice doesn’t sound as paranoid as she feels. It’s been a long 24 hours.

“Your story? It looks a bit… y’know,” Colleen smirks. “I figured it was only a matter of time, but I didn’t think you’d post it like that. I have to say, though, I thought Paige would be the type to leave hickies. Unless they’re just somewhere el-”

“SHUT UP!” Azzi shrieks, immediately slapping her hand over her mouth. “How are you getting all of this from a photo? We’ve never even kissed!”

Colleen has the decency to look slightly apologetic. “Sorry, I guess you wouldn’t see it that way. Look at the photo again, Az. Try to understand, because I promise I’m not the only one.”

“Fine.” Azzi clicks on her story. Shit. Her hair is messy, her tongue is out in what she realizes now looks like a smug smile, and Paige’s hoodie is hanging off her in a way that makes it look like she’s not wearing anything else. Colleen is totally right.

“Oh, my god.” Her reaction is so genuine that Colleen finally drops the teasing.

“You really didn’t know, huh? Look, forget I said anything, but you might wanna think about taking it down if you’re worried about what people could say.” There’s an awkward silence as Azzi sits with her head in her hands.

Suddenly, she raises her head, eyes narrowed accusingly. “Care to explain what the fuck ‘a matter of time’ is supposed to mean? Does everyone know something I don’t?”

Colleen fails to suppress a giggle as she raises her hands in the air. “I was never gonna assume anything, but I figured you two wouldn’t be able to spend that much time together without… figuring it out. Apparently,” she rolls her eyes, “I was wrong.”

“I don’t know what you think you’re seeing, but I can’t deal with this right now,” Azzi squeezes her eyes shut and takes a deep breath. “I’m so hungover, and I still have to deal with P and my parents.”

“You’re WHAT?!” Colleen’s screech of disbelief nearly sends Azzi falling off the counter a second time. “You don’t even drink… what the hell happened last night?!” It’s really more of a statement than a question, and Azzi has no choice but to explain.

Briefly, she considers telling Colleen everything, but she’s given up enough secrets recently, and it hasn’t gotten her anywhere good. The other girl believes her when she claims to have forgotten a large part of the night, and the story is apparently more interesting than the original subject of the call, of which Azzi is very grateful.

Miraculously, Paige is still asleep when Azzi hangs up the call and goes back into the blonde’s bedroom. She really needs to focus on making sure that she doesn’t get in a massive amount of trouble, but she can’t stop her eyes from continually drifting to her best friend’s sleeping form.

Telling herself that she and Paige can come up with a lie if worst comes to worst, she finally allows herself to do what Paige definitely can’t help her with — process the previous night. The cold wall against her back grounds her as she sifts through her feelings.

In hindsight, her best friend being queer isn’t all that surprising (Azzi does have eyes, after all), and really neither is Paige liking a girl. Even when it comes to Paige, Azzi tries to be logical and reasonable, but she’s only human. She can’t help but imagine all the girls that must be throwing themselves at the blonde (her brain conveniently chooses to ignore the fact that she doesn’t even know if Paige is out), and the jealousy sits heavily in her stomach.

Paige must be used to it, then, and according to Colleen, it looked like Azzi was one of the aforementioned girls. She cringes internally. Was it really that obvious? The problem is, though, that it must look like Paige has been reciprocating this hypothetical, unintentional flirting in some way. Azzi can’t think of any other reason for what Colleen had told her, and her friend had been very clear about it being something with both of them. She thinks about the way Paige held her while she cried, and she thinks that she might understand.

Azzi can’t tell if her head hurts from the hangover or the absurd mental gymnastics she’s undertaking, and she hasn’t even considered the dream yet. Wanting Paige is nothing new for her, but she’d broken too many of her own rules the previous night. She’s never messed up with Paige like that before, and she worries that it’s only going to get worse.

As her thoughts drift back to her conversation with Colleen, Azzi realizes that she never actually deleted the photo on her story. Maybe it speaks to how far she’s fallen, but it fills Azzi with a sick sense of pride as she looks at it with new perspective. Maybe she wants people to see this- maybe she wants Paige to see this, wants to know how her best friend would react.

Shutting her phone off, Azzi feels like she’s just made a pivotal choice, one she knows she wouldn’t have made a few months ago before Paige was living with her, and she’s going to have to make another purposeful concession to keep her sanity. Rationalizing once again, Azzi reasons that flirting with Paige just a bit wouldn’t be all that bad. The older girl might just be oblivious if Colleen is to be believed and they already have that outward dynamic.

Maybe her sudden feeling of giddiness is preventing her from seeing the obvious flaws of the idea, but the more she thinks about it, the more Azzi likes it. While there’s no guarantee that it will make her life any easier, it’s something that she can control, and she hasn’t felt in control of anything when it comes to Paige for years now.

By the time Paige wakes up, Azzi has two plans: the first one being another secret that she’s going to have to keep, and the second being something that she immediately goes to share with the other girl.

Paige is groggy and hungover, but somehow she gets past the rambling and mild panic in Azzi’s voice to understand what she needs to do. They’re able to sneak craft supplies onto the back deck, and Paige even manages to keep a straight face when she runs into Jose with the bottle under her hoodie.

She nods dutifully as Azzi explains the smashed bottle to her parents as a simple accident while trying to do a TikTok trend, and the girls escape with nothing more than a request to ask before taking anything else after promising to clean up the mess.

“You’re scary good at that,” Paige remarks as they’re squatting on the deck with dust pans in hand.

“At what? Lying?” Azzi asks absently. Smiling brightly, she picks up a big piece of glass and makes a heart out pink and purple glitter on it. The gesture makes Paige melt.

“No, at solving problems. You’re incredible, Az.”

The dark haired girl gives her a look. “Is this what you’re like hungover? All sappy and shit?” Her judgemental tone is offset by the fact that she’s currently making a second heart on another piece of glass.

“I’m like this all the time, what do you mean?” Paige pouts. “I know you love it anyway.”

“Mmm,” Azzi’s busy adding the finishing touches to her masterpieces. She carefully places them on the table before turning back to Paige.

Their gazes cross briefly and Azzi thinks maybe she sees something that looks like love. As she goes back to sweeping up the glass, she has to physically shake her head as she tells herself to get it together. She figures she must still be drunk or something.

But Azzi isn’t seeing things. Paige is lucky that the younger girl is distracted, because the lovestruck gaze that she’s failing to hide is the least of her worries. Since she woke up, there’s been a feeling that she just can’t shake, and she’s run out of explanations of what it could be.

Except for one, that is. Waking up tangled in Azzi’s arms this morning had felt different, and so, so right. Paige wouldn’t hesitate to say that Azzi was the person she was the most comfortable with, but never before had she considered the feeling that they belonged together.

That feeling had only intensified when Paige had accidentally brushed her lips against her best friend’s neck and then compounded it by holding Azzi’s side like she belonged to her.

Sure, that would’ve looked really bad. But what felt worse — not worse exactly, just… new and kind of scary — was when Paige, still drifting in and out of consciousness, heard Azzi’s anxious demands and found them only endearing.

Not long ago, she would’ve found herself getting annoyed, but even with the stress of covering their tracks pushing Azzi into her controlling state, the fondness in Paige’s heart still hasn’t dissipated. Does this mean Paige… has a crush on her best friend?

There, outside on the deck, Paige metaphorically gives Azzi her heart as the younger girl gives Paige a physical one. Paige thinks the broken glass that is the medium of Azzi’s creation makes a pretty good metaphor for her perception of their friendship. Shattered, splintered, permanently altered.

Trying not to say anything too sappy (or too insane for that matter, she has no idea how she came up with the broken glass thing), Paige elects to admire the methodical way that Azzi is now checking for missed pieces of glass.

When they finally go back inside, the first thing Paige does is place the glass heart on her night table so she can look at it every day. The second thing she does is open Snapchat, which is apparently a terrible decision. As soon as she clicks on Azzi’s story, that weird feeling is back, but it’s less surprising.

Azzi wears Paige’s clothes all the time, but she doesn’t normally draw attention to that fact the way this story so clearly is. Has the dark-haired girl always looked so good in Paige’s hoodies? Probably. Somehow, Paige had just been blind to it. She wishes desperately that it was still the case, because it would definitely be weird to ask her best friend to share clothes more often.

Groaning, Paige throws her phone onto the bed before flopping facedown after it.

“Whatcha doing, Paigey?” says Azzi in a singsong voice from the doorway.

Paige rolls over, not bothering to open her eyes. “I’m sleeping- or at least I was,” she says exasperatedly.

“Can I join you?” Azzi’s sounds seductive in Paige’s ears, and she has to open her eyes to confirm it’s just in her imagination. Fuck.

Azzi’s still wearing her sweater, and there’s definitely a slight smirk on her face as she stands with her arms crossed and her head tilted to the side.

“You look good in my sweater,” Paige mumbles sleepily. Shit, shit, shit. There’s no way she just said that out loud. Throwing her arm over her face to hide her blush, Paige misses Azzi’s smile widening.

“I know I do,” Azzi is closer now. She traces a finger down Paige’s bicep. “You didn’t answer my question, though.”

“Just come here,” Paige whines. She moves her arm so Azzi can rest her head on it. At the younger girl’s sigh of contentment, Paige has to squeeze her eyes shut. She is so, so fucked.

•••••

‘Fucked’ is maybe an understatement. Paige doesn’t know what to do anymore. She really wishes she was able to keep her thoughts locked away. She knows Azzi would be able to.

At first, they’d been manageable and fairly harmless. She’d just catch herself staring at Azzi here and there and find that she had the urge to ask the other girl if she knew how beautiful she was. Sure, she’d noticed that Azzi was pretty before, but she hadn’t had time to really appreciate how her features complemented each other so well. Friends look at each other like that, right? Paige wasn't totally sure, but she’d sort of been able to convince herself that they did, backtracking on her earlier realization. That had worked for all of a few hours. Then she was right back to where she started, looking at Azzi like she wanted them to be something more than best friends.

Now that a few days had passed, it seemed that Azzi coming out to her had been both a blessing and a curse. Fortunately, it had allowed Paige to come out with much less stress. She was never planning on keeping it from the younger girl (she didn’t think that was something she was even able to do), but she had never found what felt like the right time and it had been weighing heavily on her. She really didn’t think they could get any closer, but since the mutual confession, their bond felt even deeper.

Unfortunately, it seemed to have unlocked something in her subconscious mind. And that was the problem — not when she realized that Azzi was pretty, but when she realized that Azzi was hot. Like, really hot, so hot that she regularly got Paige worked up. The blonde would toss and turn in bed, thighs squeezed together, as she tried to push away some of the crazier thoughts, reminding herself that they were about her really hot best friend, not some random crush.

Knowing that Azzi liked girls had apparently given Paige’s brain new material and explicit permission to use it. Even though she was quick to dismiss the thoughts as soon as they popped into her head, she was bombarded by images of Azzi in various states of undress, doing things with her that girls who like other girls do. While they did make her feel a bit guilty, she wasn’t going to lie to herself and pretend that she didn’t also enjoy them. She also wasn’t going to pretend that, on the rare nights where Azzi wasn’t wrapped around her, her hand wouldn’t dip below her waistband as she allowed herself to briefly indulge in her newfound forbidden desires.

There is also a second (and admittedly more complicated) problem: Paige isn’t just attracted to Azzi, she’s pretty sure she’s in love with her. Like, the full-blown ‘I want to spend the rest of my life with you’ kind of love. She’d been drawn to the dark-haired girl since the day they met, and the more she actually thinks about it, the more she realizes that there was probably never a time where she wasn’t in love with Azzi. She goes back and forth between cringing at her own obliviousness and thanking the Lord for not making her have to live with it for all these years. She can’t imagine grappling with these feelings at the age of fifteen when even looking back at the mess of interactions from her short time at the Fudd’s is enough to give her a headache.

Even if this whole love thing is new, Paige would still consider herself something of an Azzi expert, or at least an expert on the way that Azzi acts around her. And she’s sure that it’s not the same as it was last week, or ever, for that matter. Because in all their years of friendship, Azzi has never whispered in Paige’s ear so close that her lips ghost across her skin, never ran her hands across Paige’s upper thighs, and certainly never looked at Paige with those eyes. And at the family dinner table, no less.

Well, she’s at least somewhat sure. Technically, Paige realizes she can’t be completely sure because she wasn’t exactly looking for it before. Maybe it was there all along and she was just oblivious. Or worse, maybe Azzi isn’t even doing anything and Paige is making it all up to serve her own interests.

But whether or not it’s in her head, it’s absolutely torturous. Nighttime fantasies aside, Paige wants it to mean something when she holds her best friend at night. She wants Azzi to know that the forehead kisses (a new habit she’s picked up) and words of affection whispered in the dark are a million little confessions, all uttered in place of one that she will never dare voice out loud.

She never imagined the thought crossing her mind, but sometimes Paige wants all of this to be over, almost needs to get away from Azzi for both of their sakes. But then her best friend will flash a smile in Paige’s direction and everything else melts away. Because Azzi has Paige wrapped around her finger, and Paige is hardly fighting it anymore.

•••••

Paige has seen Azzi in a bathing suit before, but not since she’s… figured some things out. When the dark-haired girl runs out of the house in a simple black bikini, Paige doesn’t even know where to look. There are so many places that she wants to but basically nowhere that she thinks would be appropriate at this point, so she settles for the safest option of locking eyes with Azzi. That turns out to be a mistake, because of course Azzi’s looking at her like that, and Paige wants to go back inside to hide from her.

Being unable to make eye contact with her best friend, Paige’s gaze inevitably shifts downwards. The blonde has enough self-awareness to realize that the look on her face as her eyes snag on Azzi’s lips and collarbones is something she never wants the other members of the household to see. She schools her features into neutrality as she turns around, confusion quickly clouding them when she sees only Tim at the grill.

“Where are Katie and the boys at?” she asks.

A brief smile ghosts across Tim’s face. “Inside, I guess,” he shrugs dismissively. “They’ll be out soon, I’m sure they’re getting dish soap or something.”

Paige doesn’t have long to ponder his evasive answer before Azzi is calling her over.

“Come help me with these staples!”

The DIY slip-n-slide was another idea they’d seen on Tiktok, and when the forecast predicted a particularly hot and sunny day, it seemed like the perfect time to try it.

Paige and Azzi are securing the last corner of the plastic sheet when they’re finally joined by Azzi’s mom and brothers. Only Katie is holding a bottle of dish soap, which Paige registers as somewhat suspicious, but she’s quickly distracted by Tim’s call to come eat.

—

They try the slip-n-slide after lunch. After much bickering, Azzi gets to be the first to go. She slides gracefully on her stomach, laughing joyfully the whole time, before jumping to her feet and turning to Paige with a huge grin on her face.

Paige would be the first to tell anyone how much she loves Azzi’s smile, but she barely registers it this time as her eyes latch onto a water droplet on Azzi’s shoulder and her earlier attempts not to look are all for nothing. Almost hypnotically, her eyes follow the trail of water past her best friend’s collarbones, between the valley of her breasts, and across her abs before it soaks into her bikini bottoms. Paige fully takes in the warm brown skin glistening with soapy water and it’s just so much. All Paige wants to do is touch, anywhere she can. She’s imagining running her hands down her best friend’s body in very inappropriate ways when Jon’s voice next to her snaps her back into the present.

“Hello, Earth to Paige?” he yells, practically screaming in her ear. Face burning, the blonde’s eyes snap away just in time to watch Azzi’s youngest brother turn the hose on her.

“Oooh, you’re so dead for that!” she shrieks, chasing after him.

It soon becomes apparent what Katie and the boys were doing when Jose comes running out of the house with a huge bucket of water balloons. He starts chucking them at Paige and Jon, who are wrestling in the grass, and soon the whole family is having a water balloon fight.

Paige and Azzi try to seek shelter behind a table, but it turns out to be a bad decision as the rest of the Fudds gang up on them. With their supply dwindling, both girls jump up and run across the yard, dodging many balloons but still getting soaked.

“Please, spare us,” Paige cries as she ducks behind Azzi. “You wouldn’t hurt your sweet sister, would you?”

Jon and Jose consider it for about three seconds. “Fuck family, this is war!” Jon shouts, earning a cheer from Jose and poorly masked laughter from Tim and Katie. The onslaught continues, with Paige still trying to use Azzi as a human shield.

If Paige’s hands slide when she puts them on Azzi’s sides to reposition her, surely it’s just because of the soapy water. If they brush across Azzi’s abs as she turns around to push the older girl away, Paige’s breath certainly doesn’t catch in her throat. And when the girls lose the water balloon fight, it’s definitely because it was basically two against four and not because Paige was horribly, atrociously distracted.

—

“Today was really fun,” Azzi muses as they lie in her bed that night.

“Easy for you to say when you didn’t get a sunburn,” Paige winces at the slight sting as her back rubs against the sheets.

“That’s because I’m better than you,” Azzi shrugs like it’s obvious. “Don’t worry, I still think you look cute… even if it means you won’t let me cuddle you tonight.” She yawns and rolls over.

Paige freezes. What the fuck? Her brain is telling her that there’s no way she heard Azzi right, but with the way her best friend has been acting, it almost makes sense.

Shaking her head, Paige shifts around before deciding that the least painful sleeping position is flat on her back. When Azzi slinks her way into Paige’s arms, the older girl grits her teeth against the pain, never once considering pushing the dark-haired girl away to ease her discomfort.

—

Paige is in a desert. Her burnt skin stings under the sun and the hot sand scorches her feet as she stumbles desperately towards a jagged mountain, the only landmark for miles. She’s disappointed to discover that it offers no shade, but hope blossoms as she circles it.

The back of the mountain is an imposing rock face, but all thoughts of trying to climb it are dispelled when a small dark line running down it catches Paige’s eye. She draws closer and is relieved to find that it’s a trickle of water descending from the top of the mountain hundreds of feet above her. The rivulet is scarcely wider than one of Paige’s fingers, but she desperately presses her tongue to the rock, needing to get as much as she can in case it runs out.

The first drop of water invigorates her. It tastes like dreams and desires and a million other things all at once, and soon Paige doesn’t think she could stop lapping it up if she tried. The water drips down her chin and she welcomes the sensation. The trickle grows into a stream and still Paige keeps drinking, closing her eyes as it washes over her like a baptism.

Paige’s senses are flooded by vanilla and jasmine and she has only one thought. Azzi. When her tongue brushes against the rock face again, it’s not the rough feeling she’d gotten used to, causing Paige to open her eyes in shock. She’s on her stomach on what appears to be a flat rock in the middle of an oasis.

But Paige barely has time to take in her surroundings because right under her is the source of her desires. Azzi has an arm thrown carelessly over her eyes, legs spread so that Paige can lie between them, her head inches above the other girl’s smooth, toned stomach. Paige realizes what she’d felt on her tongue and dips her head down, experimentally tracing the path of a water droplet up Azzi’s stomach. She swallows thickly, revelling once more in the heavenly taste of it.

“Why’d you stop?” Paige’s head snaps up. They make eye contact for the first time, Azzi’s relaxed body language juxtaposed by the lust darkening her deep brown eyes.

Paige realizes that Azzi’s wearing the black bikini top she loves, but as her arm brushes the dark-haired girl’s bare hip bone, she’s not brave enough to look down.

“It’s just us here,” Azzi purrs. She arches her back slightly so she can reach the knot holding her top on. “Just you and me.” Azzi fixes Paige with an intense stare, not once breaking eye contact as she begins to pull her top off.

Azzi’s scent is intoxicating, clouding Paige’s senses and leaving her almost in a trance. “You know what I want, baby.” She licks her lips.

Paige doesn’t know if it’s the pet name or the sultry tone of Azzi’s voice, but her head is starting to feel fuzzy.

“I- I do,” she says almost reverently.

“Good girl,” Azzi murmurs. “Think you can do that for me, then?”

And Paige finds herself nodding eagerly, letting soft hands tangle in her hair as Azzi gently pushes her head down.

—

Paige wakes up absolutely parched. She tries not to be disappointed when the water she gulps down tastes nothing like the elixir from her dream. There’s only one thing that she thinks could possibly taste that good, and it’s the one thing she can’t possibly have.

#pazzi my loves #close #the covid fic #paige my love #azzi my love #paige bueckers x azzi fudd #pazzi fic

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grlsbstshot · 1 month ago

Text

NEON LIGHTS

Pairing (Original Characters):

Jameson Lucas (Aaron Pierre) x Imani St. Cirie (Megan thee Stallion) Genie Adesanya (Jayme Lawson) x Ellington “EJ” Dupree (Kelvin Harrison Jr.)

Chapters:

Neon Lights Masterlist

Chapter Synopsis: The crew deals with the aftermath of Jameson's album release party and makes major decisions about their futures.

Warnings: toxic relationship, mentions of therapy, emotional breakdowns, mentions of depression, deception in relationships -- if we missed anything, let us know!

Word Count: 5.3k

Divider Template: @cafekitsune

Notes:

The following characters are original creations. Their voice claims are Usher / Lucky Daye (Jameson) & Summer Walker / SZA (Imani). We have no affiliation to any of those artists.

The aftermath of the disastrous album release party left Imani seeking solace in her hotel suite. As she lay in bed attempting to find sleep amidst the chaos in her mind, thoughts of Jameson consumed her. She couldn’t shake the image of him when first laid eyes on her at the party, or how he looked with Camille by his side. The way he wrapped his arm around her waist and held her close made her believe they were happy together but the look on his face made her feel completely different.

He didn’t resemble her Jameson anymore. He appeared…solemn and apathetic. He smiled and talked politely throughout the night but he didn’t seem to be the life of the party anymore. Then again – what did she know about him? It had been a year since they even laid eyes on each other.

After tossing and turning all night, Imani realized she had to let it go. It was time to get back to her life. The next morning, she woke up feeling restless but she forced herself through her usual routine. She took a shower, brushed her teeth, and ate breakfast.Then began coordinating a swift exit from New York with her assistant. The trip had been a disaster and she wanted nothing more than to leave as soon as possible.

As she was sending out an email, a phone number appeared on her screen. It wasn’t saved, but she knew exactly who it was. She had removed him from her contacts but she didn’t forget. Without hesitation, Imani answered on the second ring. “Hello?”

For a moment, there was nothing. He didn’t say anything. But when he did speak, it was like a shock to her system. “Hey. It’s me.” His deep voice was like an earthquake to her core. It left her brain scattered. She needed to think of something fast! This man shouldn’t get to affect her like this.

She laughed, “Yeah. I know, Jameson. What’s up?”

She could hear his hesitation over the line and wondered what this was about. “I was…If you’re still in New York, can we meet up? Lunch or something? I think we should talk.”

“Yes, that’s fine!” She answered eagerly, the pitch of her voice rising in anticipation. She quickly cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure. “I mean, yeah, we can go today.”

Once again, he got quiet. She expected him to call her out on her eagerness. Make a joke, tease her. But he didn’t. He seemed to be all business. “Two o’clock good? At Masa?”

“Yeah, that works. I’ll see you at Masa at two.” “Good. See you then.”

The call ended and her heartbeat tripled in speed. What the fuck did she just agree to? Why was he calling her? Why did he want to see her? Did he end things with Camille? Did he want her back? No, it couldn’t be that easy. He didn’t even flirt with her over the phone. Whatever he wanted, it made Imani nervous. She didn’t know how to handle the man he was now.

After coming face to face with Imani, Genie’s emotions were a rapid whirlwind, shifting from sadness to hurt and now settling into a wave of deep, seething anger. All she could think about that night was her former best friend barging back into everyone’s life without a word of warning. Understandably, her situation with Jameson became untenable and she had to walk away. Genie wanted the best for them both but sometimes love didn’t work out the way she thought it should. But never did she think Imani would cut her off without a word. She didn’t get it. She was her best friend.

She was pissed.

She decided she wouldn’t wait for Imani to reach out. If she did, she’d wait forever. She was taking control of their friendship. Determined, Genie called Imani’s assistant to find out where she stayed in New York. Aman Resorts. From there, it was nothing to get to Imani’s room. She practiced her speech the whole way, strutting down New York streets muttering to herself.

This wasn’t fair and Genie wasn’t going to stand for it.

When she arrived at the hotel, she immediately took the elevator up to the floor the assistant gave her. Genie fought to keep her composure despite the anger within her. When Imani’s voice rang out from behind the door, her stomach churned. Was this the path she wanted to take?

But it was too late. The door opened and Imani was there…looking at Genie in clear surprise. The girls looked at one another and before Imani could say a word, Genie wedged herself between the door and pushed her way inside. The aggressive action wasn’t part of her personality but she stuck with it.

It seemed the only way Imani would take her seriously was to make demands.

She marched past the foyer and found herself in the living room, waiting for Imani to join her. As soon as she heard the door close. She loosened the Chanel purse from around her arm, tossing it down onto the couch behind her as she paced the floor. She could hear the other woman approach the room and Genie whirled around, hurt in her tone. “Was it so hard to pick up the phone?”

To her credit, Imani apologized. Almost immediately. “Genie. I’m…I’m sorry. I–”

But she didn’t want an apology. She wanted answers. “You could have told me that you needed space. I would have left you alone. I wouldn’t have bothered you. I would have just checked in and we didn’t have to talk about Jamie. We could have just…” Her voice broke and tears glistened in her eyes as she fought against them. “You were my best friend. How could you?” The words spilled out before she could stop them.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do after I broke up with Jameson.” Imani confessed, tears filling her own eyes. “I just knew I didn’t want to speak his name. I didn’t want to hear it.”

“Okay but you just left me.” Genie’s voice cracked with emotion. She was fighting a losing battle with her tears. They ran down her cheeks as she glared at Imani. “Out of everyone, you know I would have understood.”

Imani nodded, acknowledging that Genie was right. Being understanding was one of her greatest strengths…but also a flaw. She searched for the good in people every single time and she got hurt because of it. She didn’t want Imani to just be another person in the list of people who hurt her.

“I know, I know. And I’m so sorry for shutting you out. Please forgive me,” Imani begged, her voice pleading and sincere.

Genie’s anger faded as she saw the genuine remorse in her friend’s eyes...but it still lived within her. “I’ll work on it. Just…don’t shut me out like that again or I might kill you.” She wiped the tears from her eyes, sniffling.

The two women eyed one another warily but their love for each other couldn’t be denied. And just like that…there was a glimmer of hope that their friendship could be salvaged. All it took were some tears and a couple of apologies.

“I won’t.” “You promise?” “Of course.” “You swear?” “Yes.” “...Give me your pinky.”

Imani laughed, moving closer to Genie as she wiped tears from her own face and offered her friend her pinky. Genie linked hers with Imani and nodded, the action sealing the promise between them. Imani wrapped her arms around her in a tight hug. “I promise you I won’t. I missed you so much.” she whispered.

“I missed you too.” Genie replied and returned the hug.

“You want to help me pick an outfit? I’m about to go see Jameson in an hour.” Imani said softly.

Genie reared back, blinking at her in confusion. “You’re seeing wh—Oh my god, Imani. Does it ever end?! Show me your options.”

Coming face-to-face with Imani again might not have been the best thing to do. He was already struggling after seeing her last night. And that was only one time. He shouldn’t put himself through the torture of doing it again, but he had to. He had to see if she was alright. He had to reassure himself that leaving her alone was the right thing to do.

He waited for her at Masa, shuffling silverware around nervously as he waited to see her. Meeting in public wasn’t ideal – he knew people would talk – but it was better than meeting her alone somewhere. He needed to keep this above board. His relationship with Camille was developing well. She was good for him. His therapist encouraged him to make decisions that were best for him.

Panting after Imani wasn’t good for him. He spent six months of his life reaching for a bottle of liquor every time he thought of her, literally begging God to have her wake up and come back to him – only to see her leaving LA hotspots with her latest fling. He circled the drain when he couldn’t have her…and he was tired of living like that.

But it would be a lie to say that he didn’t miss or worry about her, so he hoped this could be a new chapter in their lives.

When he saw her being led to the table by a hostess, he rose from his seat. It was a reflex but he followed it. His gaze swept her frame, taking in the outfit. The dark orange bordering on brown. The way her pants hugged her hips. Her belly button piercing was clear as day. Fuck. He had to stop. If they were going to be in each other’s lives, he couldn’t think like this.

They were going to be friends and it was time to act like it.

“Hey Jamie,” she greeted him with a smile. “How are you?” She asked, sitting down.

“Hey. I’m..I’m good.” He said softly, staring at her as she took a seat. Eventually, he realized he needed to be sitting too. Jameson quickly sat and met her gaze with a smile. “Thank you for coming.”

She looked at him, pausing for a moment. “No problem. It’s nice to, um, see you again.” She said softly. This was a side of Imani he wasn’t used to. She was softer and more timid. He didn’t like it.

“We just saw each other last night.” he joked

She laughed, looking away. Imani pushed her hair behind her ear. “I—I know. I just wasn’t expecting to see you so soon. I’m glad I am though.”

“I’m glad too.” He said softly, gazing at her before remembering what he was there for. “I uh–I was worried about you. You left early and I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Again, she paused. She gazed back at him. He studied her facial features, looking for the answer she didn’t want to tell. “Oh, I’m fine. I was tired.” She said, her eyes giving away it being a lie. “Are you okay? You left your party early too.”

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I was just tired from finishing up the album.” he said. Their conversation was stiff and awkward just like how it was at his album release party. It didn’t flow like how he was used to.

“Well, um, I’m glad you’re okay, Jamie.” She glanced at him. This time he could tell she was being genuine. “That’s all I want. I want you to be okay.”

“I-I want that for you too, Imani.”

There was a pause. She didn’t speak. Neither did he. Jameson knew what he had to do coming into this conversation, but he was having difficulty finding the words to do it. He exhaled, his eyes meeting hers. “Cami and I are…we’re good together. We get along really well. No arguing, no screaming, no mistrust. We work and I want to see where it goes. She’s good for me.”

She nodded, her smile faltering slightly, but she quickly recovered it. “Good. I’m glad that you’re happy, Jameson. You deserve that.” She said softly.

“Thanks,” he said. “I want you to be happy too.”

“I am,” she said quickly. “I’m happier than I've ever been.”

Her bright smile remained, leaving him hopeful, but her eyes conveyed a different story. He wanted so badly to ask more questions. He wanted to see if she was telling the truth. One of the last things she ever told him was that she didn’t think he was her person anymore. Shouldn’t she be happier now?

And yet, he stopped himself from asking. He had to let her go for her to be happy. It was a thought he lived by for a year. That had to be true. She was better off without him.

“That’s good. I asked you here because I—I want us to be friends, Imani. We loved each other for so long. I won’t pretend I don’t worry about you. I do. So I want us to be okay with each other.”

She paused, glancing at him. “I…I’d like that. I want to be friends with you too. I miss your presence in my life, Jamie. And I just want you to be happy at the end of the day.”

The words sounded nice and Jameson let himself trust in it…even if something in his chest tightened at them. He gave a nod, grateful that she wouldn’t just disappear from his life again.

She left lunch with Jameson, feeling bitter, annoyed, and lonesome. Yes, she agreed to be friends with him. Yes, their conversation seemed to flow after the initial stillness of discomfort. But she didn’t want any of this. She hated hearing him talk about how happy he was with Camille. They were supposed to be the perfect couple - never arguing, never screaming, always trusting each other – not him and Camille. Why couldn’t they get it together? She didn’t understand it.

Before coming to New York, Imani had been so sure of what she wanted - him. She thought it would be easy to win him back, to get back on the rollercoaster of their relationship. But now she could see that he was happily occupied with someone else, riding an easygoing kiddie ride with no thrill, and yet, he was having the time of his life. Imani was pissed. But there was nothing she could do about it; she had to move on, too.

As she rummaged through the clothes in her suite's closet, Imani searched for an outfit that would turn heads. Tonight was her last night in New York before returning to Los Angeles tomorrow morning. After forgetting to book a flight earlier in the day, she didn't want to spend her remaining time in the city sulking in her hotel room and watching Sex and the City. So when one of her industry friends mentioned a party just a few blocks away, Imani jumped at the chance to go out.

She stopped flipping through her clothes when her hands landed on a sleek black fitted dress. It hugged her curves perfectly - this was exactly what she needed.

The party was everything she had hoped for - alcohol flowing freely, fine ass men everywhere, and good vibes. It was the perfect distraction from Jameson. Imani took another shot of tequila and relished in its bitter burn as it slid down her throat.

“Okay, bitch, let’s go dance!” She exclaimed to her friend before they made their way from the bar to the crowded dance floor. The music was loud and pulsing, and Imani didn’t even know what song played, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was letting the beat move her body and forgetting about Jameson for the night.

As she danced, Imani could feel all eyes on her, but there was one set of eyes in particular that caught her attention. Through the dim lights, she could only make out a few of his features, but she recognized his gaze - he had been watching her all night. And she was sick of him just staring at her without saying a word. So Imani took matters into her own hands.

After the song ended, she confidently strutted over to where he sat. “You just gone stare at me all night and not say nothin’?” She asked with a sly smile as she finally got a good look of his handsome face. He had smooth caramel skin, his haircut was sharp like he just got it done, and a perfectly trimmed beard - exactly her type.

He chuckled and licked his full pink lips before standing up to meet her. Okay, he was tall too. Another plus. He stepped closer to her. “Oh, I was gon’ come talk to you. I was just waiting for the right time,” he replied, holding out his hand for her to shake. “I’m Isaiah and you?”

“Imani,” she said softly as she shook his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

"It's nice to meet you too, Imani." He smiled, flashing his diamond tooth fang. He pulled his hand away. Isaiah's neck, wrist, and earlobe were dripped in diamonds that danced harder than the crowd did. "Can I buy you a drink?"

"Yes, I don't see why not. You can get me a lemon drop with a sugar rim."

He chuckled, "I like you already. You know what you want and I fuck with that." He said, a hint of admiration in his voice. She liked him too. Isaiah wasn't Jameson, but he was a perfect distraction to forget him.

EJ glanced at his phone, noticing the two missed calls. One from his manager and another from an artist he was working with while in town...but he had much more important plans going on then as he browsed the website of Aspen resorts. He leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs and rolling his shoulders. The faint sound of knocking at the front door pulled him from his hard work.

He carefully exited out of the browser before making his way to the door, hoping it wasn't Genie. He wanted to surprise her with dinner plans but hadn't even started to cook. Thankfully, it wasn't her. It was his best friend.

“Hey. What's up?" EJ said, opening the door wider to let him inside.. He noticed the tension in Jameson’s posture, the way his fingers twitched against his thigh. “I know you left early last night. You good?”

Jameson sulked into the room and dropped into the chair in the attached living room, taking a deep breath as his face clouded with something heavy. “I had lunch with Imani today.”

EJ shut the door behind him because he knew he was in for one hell of a story but he did his best to keep his tone neutral. “And?”

“And…” Jameson hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “I asked her to be friends.”

He took a seat across from Jameson, crossing his arms as he leaned back. He didn’t miss the way Jameson avoided his gaze and he immediately braced for bad news. “That’s…progress, I guess. But you don’t sound convinced.”

Jameson exhaled sharply, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “It doesn’t feel right. I thought it would. I thought that time apart would make things easier when we saw each other again but it's like..." He shook his head, his voice dropping. “It’s like nothing’s changed. I’m still drawn to her. And I hate it because Camille deserves my best.”

EJ frowned, his jaw tightening. He cared about Jameson, but he wasn’t about to sugarcoat things. “You’re right—she does. She’s good for you, man. She’s steady, supportive, and she actually cares about your well-being. She’s not a tornado like Imani.”

Jameson shot him a look, defensive and protective all at once. “Imani ain't a tornado. I put her through a lot of shit. She had to choose herself first.”

EJ held up a hand, waving off Jameson's defense. “Yeah, you did. It was fucked up. But that being said...she made the choice to walk away. That means staying away. And maybe I'm being a dickhead about it but you gotta admit -- shit with her has always been…complicated. Even when y'all were good, shit could go left within a minute. With Camille, it’s simple. She’s there for you, no drama, no games. She’s what you need, not just what you want in the moment.”

He could see Jameson mulling over his words, the conflict etched across his face. EJ hated seeing his friend like this, but he wasn’t going to let him spiral back into the mess he’d clawed his way out of.

Jameson finally spoke, his voice quiet. “But it ain't that simple. My head knows Camille’s the better choice, but my heart…Man, my heart starts thudding every time Mani girl looks at me. I sat with her at lunch and I just wanted --” He trailed off, shaking his head.

EJ sighed, leaning forward. "Let me know when she looks at you and I'll tell her to close her eyes."

"EJ, c'mon." "No, you c'mon. You spiraled, Jay. Your mama had to move into your house and take care of you." "I was fine. She was being dramatic." "You weren't eating." "I ate!" "Barely! You barely ate enough to get through the day but you drank enough to get through anything. Y'all were rocky before then you cheated but after that, everything got all fucked up."

Jameson looked up at EJ, seemingly wounded by the mention of his infidelity. He saw it was the root cause of all their problems but he was being foolish. He and Imani started having issues before he cheated. “Look, I’m not saying it’s easy. But you’ve worked too hard to get your life back on track to throw it all away for something that might not even work out. Camille’s solid, Jameson. You and Imani keep burning each other. Stop the cycle.”

Jameson nodded, but EJ could tell he wasn’t fully convinced. He’d seen that look on his friend’s face before, the one that meant he was caught in a tug-of-war between his past and his present so EJ decided to give him something else to think about. “Speaking of relationships…I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

Jameson looked up, his expression curious. “What’s that?”

EJ hesitated for a moment, a rare flicker of nervousness passing through him. Then he smiled. “I’m going to ask Genie to marry me.”

Jameson blinked, leaning back in his chair. “Wait—what? You’re serious? You’ve only been together a year,” He was staring at him like he’d grown a second head. “Are you sure about this?”

"Of course I'm sure," EJ muttered defensively. "That's my baby. She's sweet, creative, and intriguing. I ain't never met anybody like Genie in my life. She makes me happy and I want to spend the rest of my life making her happy."

Jameson processed what EJ was saying, and a small smile crept onto his face. “Okay, okay. Good. Soft ass. Should I give you the speech?”

"What speech?" "That "If you hurt my sister, I'ma knock ya head off your shoulders" speech?" "Ain't nobody scared of your big ear ass."

Jameson got up, jokingly taking a swipe at EJ but the other man was much faster. He dodged out of his chair and laughed out loud. "I'm gonna need your help to do it. I want to catch her off guard. You, her dad. She loves Aspen. So I'll do there in February."

“Anything you need,” Jameson said without hesitation, though he still looked a little stunned. “You’ve got it. Just let me know.”

EJ nodded, a rare moment of vulnerability settling over him. “Thanks, man. It means a lot.”

"Well, let me get out of here. I got dinner plans with Cami." Jameson said, heading to the door before pausing and turning back. He clapped EJ on the shoulder. "You're a very blessed man. Genie's had a heart of gold since she was a kid. If she's your soulmate, God really did smile down on you."

EJ smiled wistfully, his tone soft as he spoke of Genie. "Believe me. I know how lucky I am."

His mind still lingering on his conversation with Jameson when he heard the door to their rental open. Knowing it was Genie, EJ got up and went to the kitchen to make her some tea. "Duke?" She called out, using the nickname he had grown fond of. "You here, baby?"

"Kitchen!" He called out and sure enough, she came around the corner looking every bit as serene and graceful as she usually did. "I take it you feel much better now?"

The past few months had been rough for her. She was building resentment and anger. It was the total opposite of her everyday persona but watching her now...it seemed that she had managed to handle those feelings very well.

"I do. I saw Imani this morning."

EJ’s body stiffened for a moment before he forced himself to relax. He didn't hate Imani but he was always on edge. She had the power to twist his two favorite people into knots and he didn't like that. “Yeah? How’d that go?” He beckoned her closer and she came to wrap her arms around him.

“It was…unexpected,” Genie admitted. “But we talked. We cried a little bit. I think we’re going to work on our friendship going forward."

“That’s good, my love,” EJ said sweetly, turning his head to kiss her as he waited for the kettle to warm. "I'm happy for you both."

Genie tilted her head, watching him carefully before she uttered her next words. "She also told me she was going to have lunch with Jameson.”

Even though he knew it, he still felt his stomach drop into his feet. Imani didn't even know how much power she had over Jameson. She had him rethinking his entire relationship with a woman he'd been with for six months. One sighting, two conversations...and he was considering throwing it all away. EJ schooled his expression, wanting to appear neutral to his girlfriend. “I know. He came to see me after.”

Her eyebrows lifted, curiosity in her eyes. “Really? What did he say? What'd they talk about? I didn't call Mani to ask. I didn't want to be too nosy.”

EJ hesitated, then gave her a reassuring smile. “He said they talked about being friends. They agreed. And uh -- that it felt like a step in the right direction.”

Genie studied him for a moment, brows furrowed. She knew it didn't sound like Jameson. But then...stranger things had happened than him practically growing up and being mature. She seemed to accept his answer with a nod, placing her head on his shoulder. “Maybe it is. I hope so -- for both of them.”

The kettle whistled on the stove and EJ reluctantly pulled away, lifting his hand to pat her bottom gently. "Go get comfortable. I'll make you a cup of tea and we can talk some more."

She gave him a beautiful smile and nodded obediently, practically skipping out of the kitchen giddily. He liked making Genie happy. If he had his way, he'd see nothing but bright smiles and happy giggles from her for the rest of her life.

EJ finished up in the kitchen, making her tea and finding a snack for her to nibble on before dinner. Taking care of Genie was one of his main priorities. It was why he rationalized lying to her about what Jameson said.

As he exited the kitchen and moved into the living room, she was stretched across the couch, knit blanket across her legs as she scrolled her phone. Her hair was curled, pulled into a ponytail. She hadn't even tried and she was gorgeous as hell. “I was thinking we should take a trip. We go back to Cali next week but maybe sometime soon -- we can go somewhere. Take a little trip?” He told her, setting the tray down as she pulled her feet up, giving him room to sit.

Her eyes lit up, and she sat up straighter. “Really? Where to?”

“Anywhere you want,” EJ said with a grin. “But...I've been looking stuff up in Aspen. That house you told me about? Talked to the owner. She'll let us rent it for a week in February.”

Genie’s smile softened, and she shifted closer, tucking herself under his arm. “You're too good to me, Ellington Dupree.” She didn't say anything more but she clung to him and he knew she was grateful.

“Please. This is nothing. Wait til we're together for ten years. I'm going to be hella annoying.” EJ said, pulling her into his side and resting his chin on the top of her head. “I want to make some time for us. No distractions, no work -- just enjoying life together."

EJ kissed the top of her head, feeling a pang of guilt for the lie but knowing it was better this way. “You know what? Maybe we should make this trip a family thing. Bring your dad? I can bring my mom and sister?"

Genie looked up at him, surprised but intrigued. “That’s actually a great idea. They’d love that.”

EJ smiled, brushing a curl from her face. “Good. Let’s do it.”

She hesitated, biting her lip as if a thought came to her.

"What?" "Hmm? Nothing." "You sure?" "Yeah. Us and our families. Sounds perfect."

She smiled, leaning into him. “Thank you. For everything.”

EJ kissed her forehead, holding her tightly. As they sat together in the quiet of the house, he felt a sense of calm settle over him. He was making the right decision. He wanted this for the rest of his life.

The lights of New York spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Camille’s penthouse. it was a beautiful view but Camille wasn't looking at it. She stood at the kitchen island, her phone buzzing incessantly on the marble countertop. Even glancing at the screen made her nervous.

[ +33123456789 ]: What's going on, Cam? [ +33123456789 ]: Are you seriously not going to tell me? [ +33123456789 ]: You're temporary, remember that.

Camille exhaled sharply, locking the phone and setting it face down. She poured herself a glass of wine, trying to push the words from her mind. Meeting Jameson was never supposed to make her feel anything. He was a handsome face that a friend wanted for herself. Camille's job was just to see if he was open to seeing someone else. Sleeping with him and falling for him wasn't part of the plan. But he was on the verge of being hers now and what her friend wanted didn't really matter anymore.

Even if guilt gnawed at her. The knock at her door startled her, and she quickly smoothed her silk robe before padding over to answer it.

The object of every thought she seemed to have lately stood on the other side, his tall frame illuminated by the hallway light. In his hands were two lush bouquets of roses, one red and one pink.

“Good evening." he said with a soft smile, cradling the roses in his arms.

Camille’s heart fluttered as she took him in. 6'3, solid frame, the most beautiful green/blue/whatever damn color they felt like being eyes? Jameson Lucas was one of the most beautiful men she'd ever seen...and she spent all her time with male models. "Roses? You’re spoiling me, Mr. Lucas.” She moved aside, letting him inside as she reached for the flowers.

“I would hope so.” Jameson replied, stepping inside as she moved to place the bouquets in vases. He had been to her place much more than she had been to his so he shut the door behind him -- getting comfortable. "I like the look in your eyes when I do something nice for you. It's very sexy."

Cami glanced over her shoulder at him, her lips curving into a playful smile. “You’re laying it on very thick tonight. What’s the occasion? You missed me?"

Jameson shrugged out of his jacket, kicking off his shoes and lining them up perfectly against the wall in her living room. "Yes." He called out to her, following her into the kitchen. He leaned against the counter, watching her with an intensity that made her stomach flip. “But no other occasion. I just wanted to see you..”

Even as her hands finished arranging the flowers in its vase, Camille's face was hidden behind the beautiful roses. Her cheeks were warm as she turned to face him. “Well, you’ve seen me.” she murmured, not looking at him as he rounded the corner and stepped into her space.

“Not enough,” he replied, wrapping his arms around her waist. Jameson pressed his head against hers, tilting his head to kiss her shoulder. "I told you. I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately."

"Thinking what about me?" "Everything." "Mhm. I know what that means. You cannot put me in that position again. You almost broke my hip last time."

His humorous laugh warmed her heart and she was proud of herself for being the one to make him happy. Her breath caught as he reached for her hand, his fingers warm against hers.

“I"ve been thinking...I want you to be my girlfriend,” Jameson said, his voice steady. "I've been taking things slow because -- of the past. But I have to look forward. No second guessing. You're good for me. I like being good for you. If you would have me, I want to keep building on this."

She turned in his arms, the smile that spread across her face absolutely illuminating. “I wouldn't mind building a life with you.”

"Very enthusiastic response here." He grinned, dipping his head to give her a kiss. She melted against him, the laughter bubbling in her chest gone. The warmth and the steady beat of his heart grounded her. This was real. He chose her...over Imani. This didn't feel temporary.

"I didn't expect to care about you like this." She confessed against his lips, clinging to him tightly. Her hand moved from his, sliding up his wrist. Her fingertips grazed the watch he always wore and then moved to his biceps. He was hers. All hers. "I believe in you and I want you. I'm crazy about you. How's that for enthusiastic?"

“Very good. I like it." He sighed. "You make me happy,” he murmured into her ear.

“You make me happy too.” she replied, her voice soft.

They stayed like that for a moment, wrapped in each other, swaying in her kitchen. When he pulled back, his lips brushed hers in a tender kiss that left her breathless.

She didn't let herself think back to those messages. Even if Jameson found out, she didn't think he'd care. Neither of them meant to get serious about each other. It didn't matter why she had approached him. Only that she did and they hit it off.

She pushed the thought away, focusing instead on the way he held her, the way he looked at her like she was the only person in the world. For now, she could let herself believe in this—believe in them.

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