#Day 18: “My body is one big ache.”
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
fairyniceyeah · 2 months ago
Text
🌹🤍Day 18: "My body is one big ache"
@sicktember
Summary: Woosung is feverish, queasy and downright miserable. 
CW: emeto, talks of fainting
Sickie: Woosung/Sammy Caretaker: Hajoon/Dylan + Jaehyeong/Jeff + Dojoon/Leo
Woosung woke up shivering and icy cold.
When he opened his burning eyes he found the room bathed in darkness. It must still be pretty early, he supposed. A glance at his phone revealed that it was barely five am.
He still had about two and a half hours until his alarm rang but for some reason he doubted he would be able to go back to sleep. 
His body shivered again, a full jolt going through every nerve. There was no reason for him to be so cold, it was the middle of summer after all. But his body apparently didn’t get the memo. He was so cold.
It didn’t help that he only had the duvet cover on his bed, having abandoned the blanket itself a few nights ago because he had been sweating so much back then. Now he yearned for the exhausting heat that had coated his body in disgusting sweat. 
Not that he wasn’t sweaty now.
He groaned, realizing that if he wanted to fall back asleep he would need to get up and find the blanket. If he remembered correctly he had put it over his desk chair, right?
Glancing around by the light of his phone he saw that the blanket indeed was only on the other side of the room. He would just need to walk two meters at most and still it seemed an awfully long way. He hoped the warmth was worth it. 
Getting his heavy body in a sitting position was hard enough and he swayed dizzily even as he just sat at the side of the bed. For a moment he just rested his aching head in his hands, feeling how his forehead seemed to be the hottest thing in the room.
It made sense - he wasn’t supposed to be cold in August. If he was running a fever that was a good explanation. But he had no idea where the thermometer was. Did they even have one?
Getting the blanket would have to do. Slowly pushing to his feet so the dizziness wouldn’t overwhelm him was awful. Every part of his body seemed to ache. His head seemed to be full of wool and soupy thoughts. Every limb was heavy. 
He stumbled to the desk chair, nearly falling as he grabbed it to steady himself and it turned away. Crashing into the desk itself was the only thing stopping his fall. His hip bore the brunt of the impact and the throbbing pain brought tears to his eyes. 
Woosung took a deep breath and just held onto the blanket. His only goal was to get back into bed without face-planting on the floor. It didn’t matter to him that the blanket was trailing on the floor; it was less heavy that way. 
He collapsed onto the bed and just haphazardly pulled the blanket on top of himself. It was uncomfortable and tangled, some parts of his body covered and some kissing the cool air. Not that it was much warmer under the blanket.
🌹
Woosung wasn’t sure if he had actually fallen asleep at some point. It seemed like he had dangled in feverish limbo between painful wakefulness and restless sleep for hours. Even if he had been asleep it certainly hadn’t been restful. 
His hand shook as he turned off his alarm. The others would likely get up soon as well, their alarms were programmed for the same time frame. Woosung was pretty sure that Jaehyeong, never somebody who could get up at first try, would have pushed snooze for the third time now. Hajoon, diligent as he was, was probably already showering. Dojoon with all his energy would just jump up the moment his alarm sounded, later than anybody else's and still somehow always the first one ready. Woosung normally enjoyed hitting snooze once and then slowly getting ready. 
That day, however, all he wanted to do was get up and find another member who knew where the thermometer and the meds were. He suspected that out of everybody, Jaehyeong would have some. 
He knew the way down the stairs would suck, he knew that everything would be cold and that he’d feel terrible the whole way.
Maybe Dojoon, whose room was beside Woosung’s on the first floor, would be the easier choice. 
Woosung pushed himself up, nearly falling at the headrush that assaulted him as soon as he changed from horizontal to vertical, wrapped his blanket around his shoulders and only stopped for a moment to put on some fuzzy sucks his eomma had gifted him. He all but fell when he lifted his feet to pull his socks over his freezing toes but leaning against his wardrobes saved him.
He stumbled over to Dojoon’s room and knocked on the door, pushing it open before he could receive an answer. His heart sank when he realized that the room was empty. As if to mock him, he then heard the shower turn on in the bathroom he shared with Dojoon. He was too late.
Desperate for relief and not wanting to continue to suffer alone, Woosung decided to brave the stairs. He clutched at the railing with one hand, the other holding the blanket around his shoulders. It had been a stupid decision to put on the socks - he very nearly slipped on the wooden surface with them a few times. 
🌹
By the time he had made it down half the stairs he was sweating like crazy, panting and his vision was turning spotty. Scared he’d faint and fall down the rest of the steps, he carefully lowered himself into a sitting position, resting his head on between his knees, leaning sideways against the wall.
Woosung had no idea how long he had sat there, freezing and shaking, when he heard a voice asking: “Hyung?”
He lifted his head and tried to focus his blurry vision on whoever had spoken. Jaehyeong?
“Sammy?”, Jaehyeong repeated and then suddenly he yelled: “Hajoon-ah! Dojoon-hyung!”
Woosung winced at the volume but the maknae’s cold hand on his forehead was a welcome relief. When he opened his eyes - when had he closed them? - he found Jaehyeong looking at him with worry in his eyes.
“Hey, hyung”, he said, “how are you feeling?”
“Awful”, Woosung rasped honestly. 
“Hm, you seem to be burning up.”
Right, that was why he had decided to come downstairs in the first place.
“Do we have a thermometer?”, he asked quietly. Jaehyeong’s hand on his face felt heavenly. The maknae looked incredibly worried though.
“What happened?”, Hajoon asked, out of a sudden kneeling beside Jaehyeong. When had he arrived? He was only wearing shorts and no t-shirt, water from his shower dripping down his face and back. Woosung shivered just seeing him.
“I found him like this”, Jaehyong explained, a worried and rushed quality to his voice, “he’s burning up.”
“It’s the middle of summer”, Hajoon said with a frown and reached up to feel Woosung’s forehead as well. He winced as his hand made contact. Woosung pulled away and placed his dizzy head on his knees, Hajoon’s hand uncomfortably warm.
“Summer flues do happen”, Jaehyeong said with a shrug, “why don’t you get him to the couch and I’ll see where we put the thermometer and medication.”
Hajoon nodded and Jaehyeong vanished. 
“Can you get up, hyung?”, Hajoon asked, voice overflowing with concern.
“Help me?”, Woosung asked shakily, already not looking forward to the nearly promised headrush.
Out of a sudden a hot flush took over Woosung, who for the first time that day felt warm. It wasn’t as pleasant as he had hoped, in fact it was mostly the opposite. His throat felt tight and saliva gathered in his mouth. He swallowed, hoping feverishly that it would vanish.
Hajoon didn’t seem to notice his struggle, reaching his hand out to Woosung’s shoulder. Before he could make contact, Woosung felt himself retch. It came on so quickly that all he could do was lean over and spread his legs as a rush of vomit splattered between his feet and onto his legs.
“Well, some warning would have been nice”, Hajoon mumbled with a sigh, holding onto Woosung’s shoulder so he wouldn’t fall over. 
“Sorry, I didn’t…”
Woosung coughed a bit, cursing internally as it caused another wave of stomach contents to come up, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. For a moment all he could do was stare down at the dirty steps below him, his brain too tired to comprehend what had happened. He felt even worse now than he had before puking.
“Hyung, that’s disgusting”, Hajoon whined a bit, pulling his hand from his mouth. “Let’s get a towel. Jeff, go get some towels, stat!”
As if he had been summoned, Jaehyeong nearly immediately appeared holding the thermometer. His eyes widened in shock. “Shit, okay, yeah.”
“Can we go sit on the couch?”, Hajoon asked worriedly, turning his attention back to Woosung. The singer sighed, wrapping his arms around his stomach. He was so tired and the couch was so far away. But staying on the stairs, staring at his stomach contents also didn’t seem to be the greatest idea.
So he nodded, steadying his head with his hands as everything swam around him.
“Dizzy?”, Hajoon guessed. Woosung waved his hand in a vaguely agreeing gesture and held his head still until the vertigo had passed again. 
Hajoon helped him scoot to the other side of the step he was sitting on, so there was less risk of stepping into vomit. He held out his hands and Woosung grasped them, trying to pull himself up with Hajoon’s help. But all his strength seemed to have vanished and he barely got himself more upright before he had to stop.
“Are you going to faint if I lift you?”, Hajoon asked gently, crouching down to look Woosung into the eyes. Concern was written all over his face.
“Maybe”, Woosung admitted, wetting his cracked lips with his tongue. 
“Let’s move down until we’re at the bottom of the stairs, okay?”, Hajoon suggested, resting his hand on Woosung’s knee. “Less risk of us both falling down the stairs if you do.”
🌹
It was humiliating. Scooting down the stairs on his ass, one step at a time like a child. Woosung wanted to cry, and he would have if it wasn’t so exhausting. By the time they reached the bottom, he was ready to just curl up in a shivery ball of pathetic human and stay there.
Jaehyeong came back but Woosung didn’t dare lift his eyes up to him. There was a mumbled conversation between the two younger members but Woosung blended them out. His head was pounding in his skull and his stomach, now that it had started, felt very unsteady still.
“I’m gonna lift you up from the back, okay? My grandmother used to fall a lot, that’s what we used to do”, Jaehyeong said with a sigh, patting Woosung’s knee to get his attention. 
“I’m ill, not old”, Woosung protested half-heartedly, a bit offended. 
“Yeah, but we still would rather that none of us fall”, Jaehyeong replied, “try to let us know before you faint.”
“Hm.”
Jaehyeong hooked his arms below Woosung’s armpits, carefully pulling him to his feet. Hajoon stood by, ready to catch them should one of them lose their balance. They nearly made it into a standing position before Woosung started to see black spots dancing in his vision and he felt himself start to sway.
He didn’t even need to say anything as immediately Hajoon was there, lifting Woosung under his knees and below his back, hefting him up to his chest. His vision went black but Woosung was sure he hadn’t really passed out. He dropped his head on Hajoon’s shoulder and let himself be carried to the couch. 
The cool leather was soothing against his burning skin for just a few seconds before it became uncomfortable. He curled into himself, trying to minimize the space where his sensitive skin touched anything. 
“Hi, hyung. Can you look at me for a moment?”, Hajoon asked gently, brushing back Woosung’s hair back. The older opened his eyes - since when were they burning? - and blinked up at the two Hajoon’s he saw until the left morphed into the right one.
“You’re really out of him, huh? Let me take your temperature.”
Hajoon placed the thermometer under Woosung’s tongue and entangled their fingers while they waited. 
“39.1°C”, the drummer read, “sounds about right.”
🌹
“What’s going on here?”, Dojoon’s voice suddenly called from the steps. “Who’s sick?”
“Sammy”, Hajoon replied loudly, causing Woosung to wince at the sound. A shushed apology followed. 
“Oh, hey”, Dojoon greeted as he rushed to the couch, falling to his knees next to Hajoon and instantly starting to caress Woosung’s hair. “How are you feeling?”
“My body is one big ache”, Woosung mumbled and sighed. It was true. His head and stomach were both hurting in equal measures. His skin was still prickling and uncomfortable everywhere and his muscles were incredibly sore. He just wanted to cry, if he was honest.
“Sammy-ah”, Dojoon cooed, “you’re really not feeling well, huh?”
Woosung shook his head. 
He was so tired too, he noticed when his eyes slid shut. He wanted to sleep so badly, wanted to not feel miserable anymore. 
“Hey, stay awake for a second, okay?”, Hajoon asked tenderly, squeezing his hand. “Do you think you could take some meds?”
Woosung shook his head again. He didn’t think he could keep anything down with the way his stomach was aching. He was sure he would be sick again in the near future but he really hoped he could just sleep.
Dojoon sighed and then stood up. For a moment Woosung thought he was going to leave - and why did that make him want to cry? - but then Dojoon lifted Woosung’s upper body into his lap, letting him curl up there. It helped the aching skin tremendously and the small head massage Dojoon started at his temples felt amazing. He was about to drift off again when a voice spoke up again.
“I’m going to put the bucket here by your head, okay?”, Jaehyeong said. Woosung wasn’t sure when he had returned but he appreciated the gesture. “We’ll call the manager and cancel the schedules. You just rest.”
Woosung sleepily nodded and closed his eyes.
Notes: Big thanks to @sickiecloud who beta-read this and gave me the plot idea in the first place!
Masterlist links: Fairy's Full Masterlist Fairy's Sicktember 2024
32 notes · View notes
Text
Sicktember Day 18: “My body is one big ache” - Gravity Falls
“Let’s get this party started!” Mabel piped up with feigned morning cheer which couldn’t quite disguise the phlegmy rattling. “Grunkle Ford, if we leave now we’ll get first access to the goodest goods at the fabric store!”
Her smile didn’t reach her eyes, smudged as they were with sleep-deprived shadows; the makeup she’d applied to hide it was slapdash at best.
Dipper stared incredulously. He had heard her coughing raucously all night. Judging by the split-second glance they shared, Stan and Ford must have heard it too from the guest room. How had she even pulled herself together enough to get out of bed? Why did she even try?
Because Mabel was supposed to be the undimmed ray of sunshine; she couldn’t find it in herself to rain on anybody’s parade, even when she had a valid reason. Her reasons had to be motivated by outside sources—which was why Ford offered an apologetic sigh in return.
“That does sound like fun, sweetheart, but I might not be up for it today…” He made a show of rubbing his neck, then his temple. “With the recent changes in the barometric pressure, I didn’t sleep very well last night. Did you?”
“Uh…well…”
Ford didn’t wait for her to force out a lie. “I’m still feeling it this morning, I’m afraid. My body feels like one big ache.” Stan pitched in with a well-timed, sympathetic squeeze to Ford’s shoulder as he smiled halfheartedly. “Would you mind terribly if we relaxed here today? You could show me some more episodes of that pony show you love so much.”
Mabel must have known what he was doing because she had to bite her lip, first against a cough and then against the grateful tears making her eyes glassier. “…Sure. Of course I don’t mind.”
35 notes · View notes
baubeautyandthegeek · 2 months ago
Text
Mission: Critical - Ilsa Faust/Susan McAlester
A/N: Day 18 bonus fic for @sicktember
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Susan had been almost drowned and definitely more than a little bitten by the time Ilsa hits the water, swimming swiftly enough to catch the shark’s eye and draw it away from Susan before stabbing the missed shot directly into the shark’s eye, barely missing a snatch of teeth as she turned to make her way back to Susan, grasping the woman close even as she heaves herself up out of the water, pulling her up and away even as the shark explodes, sheltering her before radioing for her friends. “Where the fuck are you?” “Down here.” Julia’s voice rises first and Ilsa allows a moment of thanks to cross her thoughts even as she gathers Susan and scurries away, leaving two men staring behind her even as she steps onto the boat, setting Susan down as the boat turns. “Can you save her?” Susan is silent under Julia’s touch even as Julia works, Ilsa keeping watchful eyes locked on the woman she hopes she’s saved. Three years apart has not stopped her loving Susan, if anything it’s made the urge to keep her safe worse. She’s still by her side when Susan finally stirs three hours later, tucked safely into a bed in a safehouse, hidden from the world. “My body is one big ache…” “Well, if you will fight, wrestle actually, a killer shark…” “Lisa?” “Hello Susie…” Ilsa’s smile is soft. “It’s Ilsa… actually. My name is Ilsa…” “Ilsa… then you should know…. It’s Susan…” “Susan…” Susan’s eyes open searching for her and she moves closer still, covering Susan’s hand with her own, taking in the copper-brown hair that’s shorter than it used to be, the suntanned freckles they have now matching even as Susan’s free hand comes to her cheek, then tugs into copper-gold hair, pulling her down. She allows it, going willingly into the kiss. “Ilsa…” It sounds different, Ilsa thinks, on Susan’s lips, her soft accent playing on her name in a way that makes it sound like a prayer, a promise, not a curse. “Susan…” “You came back…” “I promised I would…” “When I needed you most…” Susan’s smile is small, a little shy and Ilsa smiles, leaning to kiss her again. “I’ve missed you.”
3 notes · View notes
monaisme · 2 months ago
Text
Sicktember: Day 18
#18- “My Body is one big ache”
Peter stood there, staring at it, and contemplating every life decision he’d made up to this point in his life.
How had it come to this?
‘Nevaeh’s Nirvana- Health and Wellness Spa.’
The periwinkle letters superimposed over top of a pinkish-white lotus flower, mocking Peter in their serenity.
Stupid spa.
“Ma-aay,” he whined into his cell phone again. “Do I really have to do this?”
“Yes, Peter. We’ve already talked about this. You do.”
“But it’s going to be so weird!” he argued back. “And I don’t even know what to do!”
“You are twenty-three years old, Peter Parker, are currently working on a master’s degree, and are an Avenger who works in high pressure situations every day. Are you trying to tell me you don’t have the skills to figure it out?”
Peter glowered, not that May could see it. “I know I can figure it out but— can’t we just reschedule this for when you’re back in the city?”
“No, we’re not rescheduling this,” May insisted, “You’re supposed to be taking a break this week, and this’ll help! Trust me! And trust Tony! He says this guy is amazing!”
“But, May?” Peter cupped his hand around his mouth and whispered, “What if I have to get naked?”
May’s laughter peeled loud enough that a passing pedestrian heard her through his phone and smiled.
“It’s not funny, May!” Peter complained, “This is the kind of stuff I get really worried about!”
May sobered, “I know you do, and that’s the problem, honey. You’re worrying about everything—even the little things, and it’s not good for you.”
“But I’m okay, though.” Peter promised. “You know I always am.”
“But you really aren’t, honey. Last week, you were so tense you pinched a nerve in your neck and couldn’t turn your head for the first half of the day! Your body is trying to tell you something, and you need to listen to it!”
Peter dropped his head and pinched the bridge of his nose as he breathed through his frustration. She was right, and he hated it.
“Fine...you win, but the naked thing is still freaking me out,” Peter mumbled, grateful that no one was paying attention to his blush.
“Oh, Peter. I love you, my adorable idiot...”
/-/-/
It was a couple of hours later that Peter came shuffling back into the seemingly empty penthouse. With May and Happy spending a few days out of town doing all of their gushy and adorable ‘couple’ stuff, and the knowledge that Peter on his own made for chaos and far too much takeout consumption to be healthy —even for superheroes with wacky metabolism— having him spend reading week with Tony, Pepper, and Morgan made the most sense .
Peter ran a shaky hand through his mess of oily curls and headed down the hallway to his room, ready to take a shower and change into something that hadn’t been exposed to the plethora of essential oils they’d tried to so hard to eliminate for his “fragrance free” appointment. Ah, well, he thought to himself. Effort counted and it could have been so much worse. For now, all he wanted was to wash away the remnants of the grapeseed oil his massage therapist Henry had used to knead into “the most knotted back he’d ever worked with”—along with every other part of him and call it a day.
“Hey, FRI?” Peter called out as he pulled off his coat and draped it over the back of his desk chair. “If anyone asks, I’m home and I’m good. I’m just gonna shower and take a nap.”
“Of course, Mini Boss. I will inform Boss and Mrs. Boss when they return home.”
“Awesome. You’re the best, FRIDAY,” Peter half smiled then slipped into the bathroom. Logically he knew that there weren’t any cameras in his bedroom, but the idea of undressing in front of FRIDAY was... disconcerting. Peter shook his head as he snickered at his own ridiculousness.
Soon enough, Peter was stepping into the shower and being pelted with too hot water from too many jets while he tried to process what had just happened. Peter pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, planted himself on the tiled shower bench and rubbed vigorously. He’d already cried enough... gosh, he was so embarrassed. No one had warned him, but Henry, his massage therapist, promised him that it was normal—that sometimes the body needed to release not just the physical stress, but also emotions, or even trauma.
Perfect.
No way was Peter going to tell anyone that Henry had said that—or that Peter had needed that reassurance.
And no way was anyone going to find out that Peter had gotten so caught up in that permission to let go that he barely remembered the rest of the massage, forget about the cab ride back to the tower.
It could have been minutes, or even hours, but eventually Peter pulled himself together, lathered and rinsed away the last of the oil, and stepped out.
He was exhausted.
After almost braining himself on the granite countertop, Peter staggered into his bedroom and collapsed onto the bed. The clock on his nightstand read 5:24pm. “FRI? Change of plans,” he called out. “Lights off, please? Tell everyone I’m going to bed and I’ll see them in the morning.” Henry had said something about rest, right? Again, Peter couldn’t be sure, but his body was telling him it was time to shut down and so he would.
See? He could learn.
“Apologies for the interruption, but Boss would like to confirm that—”
“Nope!” Peter grabbed his pillow and plopped it over his head. “It’s bedtime for spiders... in fact, initiate Do Not Disturb mode, FRI, and I’ll catch them all at breakfast.”
Silence answered.
Peter smiled to himself in satisfaction. Yup. A good night’s sleep was exactly what he needed, today would be behind him, and he’d be set.
/-/-/
 “Mini Boss.”
Peter blinked in confusion as he woke suddenly. “Wha-? Wha’s goin’ on?!”
“Good morning. I apologize for disturbing you, Mini Boss, but you indicated last evening that you would be joining the family for breakfast and Boss is currently setting the table. Would you like me to inform everyone that you will be joining them shortly or should I reinitiate the Do Not Disturb protocol?”
So many words.
“Ugh.”
“Mini Boss?” While Peter always got a kick out of Tony’s behaviour confusing FRIDAY’s algorithms, he knew if he didn’t start moving, FRIDAY would start initiating all sorts of other protocols that Tony, in his chronic overprotectiveness, had put in place in case of emergencies.
Peter groaned and rolled himself over to get out of bed.
Or tried to...
Peter gasped.
“Mini Boss? That sounded like you are in distress. Initiating Squished Spider Protocol.”
The overhead lights of the bedroom flared to what Peter knew was only twenty percent brightness, but it didn’t change the fact that Peter’s normal wince sent an ache like nothing he’d ever experienced before through his entire body. “Oh, sh—”
A clattering of footsteps rushed down the hallway and moments later, Peter’s door flew open as Tony and Pepper rushed into the room, with Morgan coming up the rear from the sounds of it. “Peter? What’s going on?”
“I don’t know?” He couldn’t help but sound upset.
“Scan him, FRI,” Tony barked the command as he looked over the boy on the bed, eyes filled with fear and concern. “Did something happen that FRI missed?” Tony brushed his hair away from his face. “She said you stayed in and fell asleep, but—”
Peter drew in a steadying breath—and taking far too long to reply for Tony’s liking.
“ow?”
Tony sighed, gathering that Peter wasn’t at risk of imminent death, “Alright, FRIDAY? What’s the scoop?”
There was barely a beat of silence before FRIDAY offered up her analysis. “My limited scans are showing no structural injury, Boss, with no broken bones, blood loss or need for sutures. I am, however, detecting a low grade fever. I would require more invasive testing in order to reach a definitive diagnosis, though a trip to the med bay would provide the same outcome.”
“Well, it’s good to know that it’s nothing critical.” Pepper sounded more than relieved as she took the tentative all clear to come up to Peter’s bedside and pressed a cool hand to Peter’s forehead. “Are you feeling sick, honey? Can I bring you anything?”
Peter tried to shake his ‘no,’ only to whimper as he realized his mistake and the presence of some mild nausea. “’m not sick,” he insisted though. “My body is one big ache.”
Tony crooked an eyebrow, “Your body is one big ache.”
“Mm-hm.” Peter answered.
Tony stared at Peter, thinking for just a moment, and then sighed. “You had your appointment with Henry yesterday, didn’t you?”
“Yup.” Peter tried to figure out where Tony was going with his question. “Why? Did he try to kill me?” Peter chuckled, then, “ow. Sure feels like it.”
Pepper chuckled, too, realizing whatever it was that Tony had, “I’ll be back in a minute with some water and your pain meds, love.” Pepper brushed a gentle hand against his cheek, turned, and left the room.
She must have grabbed Morgan as she went, gifting Peter an audience of only one as he prayed for death, though he did hear her say, “I don’t get it? It’s just Henry?”
Tony was merciful, pulling up the chair from Peter’s desk instead of risking moving Peter one millimetre more than necessary in his compromised position by sitting on the bed. “Alright, kiddo. We’re going to get you started with some painkillers and a whole bunch of water... does that sound okay?”
Peter swallowed nervously then smiled, “Painkillers sound amazing.”
“Good, now,” Tony leaned forward, arms resting loosely on his knees. “Do you want to tell me why you didn’t follow Henry’s instructions yesterday?”
Peter’s brain short circuited a little as he tried to figure out what Tony meant. Henry hadn’t said anything to Peter about anything, he was sure, but then he’d been so... “Um? I don’t—” 
Something must have shown in Peter’s expression, because Tony’s changed from its confused curiosity to concern in a flash. “Pete? Did something happen at the appointment yesterday? I mean, he cleared all of the background checks, and I’ve only ever had great experiences with him. Hell! He’s even worked on Mo after a couple of gymnastics mishaps. I’d never have—”
Peter would have let him ramble forever if it meant he didn’t have to admit to his little “episode” yesterday, but that wasn’t fair to Tony, and it especially wasn’t fair to Henry, who Tony was seconds away from firing as his personal massage therapist and ruining his life forever. “Tony! Henry was fine. I just...” Peter started strong, then immediately trailed off as he thought of how to explain what had happened without worrying Tony even more. “I just...”
Peter and Tony locked eyes for a brief moment, Tony obviously seeing something as he did. “Oh.” Tony’s gaze softened as he came to a realization, “Did I ever tell you about my first experience with getting a massage?”
Peter shifted a little—very little—so Tony knew he was paying attention. (ow)
“It was a few years before I became Iron Man. I’d spend so much time hunched over whatever circuit board I was working on that my hand would start to go numb—which definitely doesn’t fly if you’re trying to create, well—” Peter and Tony both knew it wasn’t cell phones and watches that he’d worked on back then. “Regardless, Obie insisted that I take care of it before it started affecting the bottom line, and I always listened to him so...” He sighed as he remembered. “I finally managed to find an amazing massage therapist named- Stephanie? Tanya? Something like that. Anyways, it couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes into the massage when I started tearing up. Man, I was so embarrassed. Stark men are made of iron and all that shit, am I right?”
Peter scoffed. “Bullshit, but go on.”
Tony smiled softly at the boy, “So here I am, freaking out that she’s gonna go to the press about me being some freak, but nope. She kept going with the massage and basically explained to me that sometimes our bodies are just holding too much; too much anger, sadness, frustration... and when we give our body permission to, it all just... lets go.”
Peter sighed and closed his eyes at his own memory. “Yeah. That jives with what Henry said.”
“I’m glad, but I still don’t understand why you didn’t eat, or even just drink, like, a gallon of water and stretch before you headed to bed yesterday? It would have saved you load of grief this morning. How are you not feeling nauseous?”
Peter gave Tony a telling look.
“Peter.” Tony shook his head. “It’s gonna be a nice, slow morning, I guess— but really. Did Henry forget to say something? Did you ignore him?”
“Honestly?” Peter almost whispered. “I sort of drifted at the end.”
Tony exhaled slowly, “Well, we can’t have you doing that, now can we?” Tony gently clasped Peter’s hand in his. “Maybe we can think of the massage as a start, and we can start working on some other stuff to help out with all the stress?”
Peter would have shrugged if he could move.
Then Tony went into planning mode.  “We should talk to May and Pepper—and Happy, too. And anyone else you want on your support team... did I mention we’re going to get you a support team? I’m feelin’ like we need Cho to vet some therapists, too. That, I think, is not optional. Or Sam can help? And we can talk to your professors. Take yoga! Pfft. Rhodey loves those adult colouring books. There are so many things we can do to get you back to one hundred percent, grade A Peter.” Tony took a gentle hold of his hand. We just need to find a way to keep you a little more anchored in what’s important.”
“Knock, knock,” Pepper interrupted as she entered the room with a tray loaded down with, well, everything. “I thought that a couple of bananas and protein bars would be a help, plus the water,” Pepper placed the tray on the desk, grabbed two pills and a glass of water, and brought them over to Peter. “And these. Let’s get this done first. Oh,” She looked around like she’d almost forgotten something, “Morgan’s just ducked into our bathroom to grab the heating pad. I absolutely refuse to have one of my babies suffer more than he has to.”
Peter smiled as he struggled to prop himself up without anymore whimpering, “Thanks, Pepper.”
“No thanks, necessary. Between all of us, we’ll have you back up on your feet in no time.”
Peter smiled a little bigger at that, and he believed her.
1 note · View note
whytheylosttheirminds · 1 month ago
Text
blue sweater - r.c.
(season 4 bf!rafe x gf!reader blurb, 2.4k words)
Tumblr media Tumblr media
content smut, p in v, this gorgeous man and his afformentioned blue sweater, 18+ minors do not interact!!
⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠂
You’d fallen asleep on the couch, waiting up for him again. You didn’t fault Rafe for working so hard, you just miss him so fucking much when he’s in back-to-back meetings all day. 
The couch dips below you, pulling you from your dreams. A large, warm presence settles next to you on the sofa. You didn’t have to open your eyes to know it’s him.
“Hey,” you mumble sleepily, eyes still closed.
He’s smirking down at you, you know him so well you can picture exactly how he looks without actually seeing him. 
“Hi,” he leans forward, planting a sweet kiss on your cheek. “I’m sorry, that last meeting ran so long.”
Finally opening your eyes to meet his, you’re almost startled by the sight. Somehow, in the dim evening light, they’re more deeply blue and beautiful than ever.
“Nice sweater,” you say, reaching up to run your fingers along the hard edge of his shoulder. Even though he looks so soft and pretty right now, he’s tense, and you wish you could ease the worry that furrows his brow.
He smiles knowingly, the skin at the corner of his eyes crinkling in the cute way that makes your heart ache for him.
“Thanks, my girlfriend got it for me.”
“She has good taste,” you joke as your run your hand gently up and down his bicep, the soft fabric such a contrast to the hard muscle below. 
“Yeah, she’s all kinds of good,” he winks.
“Then why’d you make her wait for you all night?” You pout, sticking out your bottom lip so he’d know you’re just teasing.
“I said I’m sorrrrry,” he whines as he leans over you more, adjusting to bring his legs onto the couch. You make room for him instinctually, his body fitting into yours like you were designed for each other. 
He lets his full weight down slowly, sinking you both deep into the cushions. Nuzzling his head into your neck, he drags his lips against the skin below your ear so gently, it sends goosebumps racing across your skin. He can feel your excitement and starts kissing you more firmly, leaving little wet spots up the column of your throat.
Your hands splay out over his big, firm back, rubbing circles into the tight muscles. You press deep, working out his stress, and he groans at your firm touch. Your hands work slowly down his back, pressing as you go. When you reach the hem of his sweater, you slip your hands underneath. Rafe flinches at your touch, a shudder running through him.
“Your hands are cold!” He exclaims, his voice muffled.
“Oh sorry, love!” you start to pull them away, but he reaches his arm behind him and pins your palms to his skin.
“No, it feels nice, don’t stop.”
You obey, the pads of your fingers digging little figure eights into his lower back, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
“What’s got you so stressed baby, hmm?” You ask.
“Just got too much going on,” he shakes his head so his buzzed hair tickles your earlobe. You giggle at the sensation, his head rising and falling with the shake of your chest.
“Poor baby,” you coo, making him smile against you. “Just need a little help to relax?”
Rafe nods against you, moving slightly to lay his head against your chest so you can run your nails along his head like you know he likes. You bring one hand up, the other still under his shirt, the motion making you open your legs wider so you can stretch. He slots between them perfectly, and when you drag your nails over the fuzzy hairs right at the nape of his neck, you can feel him twitch against your core, already half hard.
“Someone’s needy,” you hum, delighted that you can make him so hot just by touching him tenderly like this. “Want me to make you forget all about your bad day?”
“Please,” he groans into your collarbone, pressing his hips down harder so you can feel him fully against you now. Your wetness pools immediately, soaking through your panties as you arch your back and return the pressure. 
“Shit, baby, that’s so nice,” he praises.
“‘I’ve been waiting for this all day,” you confess.
“Then we better not make you wait any longer.”
Swiftly, he lifts his head from your chest and finds your lips with his. It’s hungry and sloppy, the wet skin of his lower lip sliding against yours as your mouths collide. You’re fully grinding up into him now, and there is nothing semi-soft about him, his hard cock threatening to rip the seams of his pants. You writhe, desperate to feel his length. You know it like the back of your hand, picturing his perfect cock clearly as you rock against it. You’ve got every vein, every throbbing, pink inch memorized. 
“Take your pants off,” you breathe into his open mouth.
With a cocky grin that makes you impossibly wetter he drawls, “now who’s needy, huh?”
You roll your eyes and reach for his waistband, if he’s gonna be an ass about it you’ll just do it yourself. He mirrors you, undressing you with the same shaky fervor. Your shirt goes first, he’s delighted to see you’ve opted for no bra. In the cold evening air, your nipples harden immediately, and he can see the goosebumps spreading across your torso. 
“Ohh baby, you really are freezing.”
“Mhm,” you nod, lip pulled between your teeth. “Warm me up, Rafe.”
A throaty groan rises from his chest as he takes over your work on his pants, ripping them off as best he can without standing, his boxers following. You slip your thumbs under your shorts, doubling up to slide your panties down with them until you’re bare for him. Only one piece of clothing remains between you, the soft blue sweater you bought for him. He starts to pull it off, but you stop him, your hand wrapping around his wrist.
“No, leave it on,” you instruct.
“Whatever you want, angel,” he smirks at your unusual request, but obliges without complaint.
He lays down on you again, his lips hovering over yours as he lets his cock press into your inner thigh. He’s so hard you gasp, inhaling sharply at the sweet pressure against your leg. He kisses you again, more tenderly this time, like he’s trying to imprint the taste of you onto his tongue. As he lets his weight settle on you, the soft threads of his sweater rub over your sensitive nipples, the sensation making your eyes squeeze shut and a strained moan echo from your chest.
“Y’okay?” He asks.
“It feels so g-good,” you croak out.
“What does, baby?”
You blush, feeling silly for it, but something about the soft material against your hardened skin is so delicious, you’re sure your pussy is dripping onto the couch by now. 
A little embarrassed, you admit, “the sweater on my tits feels really good.”
“It does?” He questions, amused.
“Just stay on me baby, don’t stop.”
You and Rafe have been known to argue about almost anything, but he never argues when you tell him how to make you feel good. He flattens his chest against you fully, rutting his dick against your leg, causing his chest to rub against yours as requested. Your head falls back into the throw pillows. You let him continue to move you both until you almost can’t stand the friction anymore.
“I love that,” you whimper, eyes still squeezed shut. “But I need you inside.”
“Can’t wait any longer, huh?” He chuckles. Once again, you don’t need to see him to know what he looks like, his eyebrows are surely arched high and his lips quirked to the side as he looks at you in amusement.
“Rafe I’ve been waiting for like twelve hours,” you complain.
“I know, baby, I know,” he quells you. “I got you, alright?”
Propped on one arm, his sweater leaves your chest for a moment so he can line himself up at your soaked entrance. You wait with closed eyes, bracing for impact as you know it will take a minute to adjust to his size, it always does. But he doesn’t enter you, just grumbles with annoyance as he shuffles above you.
Your quizzical eyes open to find him fumbling with the collar of his sweater, preparing to pull it off.
“What’s the problem?”
“I want to see you, but this fucking sweater’s in the way,” he explains. You lift your head and look down to where your bodies should be meeting to see the hem of his sweater hanging in the way, blocking the view. “I’m just gonna take it off.”
“Nuh-uh!” you object. 
“Baby,” he whines.
A solution comes to you, causing you to break into a wide grin.
“Open up,” you say, and he’s never looked more confused.
But then, you reach down and pull the hem of the sweater between your fingers, making his stomach flinch as you brush against it. You lift the hem up to his mouth, revealing the sight of his dick dangerously close to your entrance. He puzzles it together, and teasingly rolls his eyes before letting you place it between his teeth. He bites down on it obediently, considering a protest before looking down to see he now has a perfect angle to his favorite sight in the world.
It feels so good when he finally slides in, stretching you so deliciously and filling you like only he can, that you almost actually cry. He moves gently, considerate enough to know there’s probably an edge of pain to your pleasure.
“You don’t have to go slow,” you assure him. “Take your stress out on me, I can take it.”
“Yeah?” He tries to sound cocky, but it’s muffled from the fabric between his teeth.
The way his jaw clenches in frustration makes you giggle. Rafe usually does most of the talking, knowing the sound of his low voice in your ear makes you come so much faster.
“I’ll do the talking, just focus on my voice while you fuck me, m’kay?” You purr.
He nods in agreement, picking up the pace until he’s rocking into you, continuously hitting the perfect spot that makes you both shudder with pleasure. He’s going so hard you have to lift your arm above you and steady yourself against the arm of the couch. His eyes flit between the sight of you taking him in so perfectly and the way your tits bounce with each thrust.
You keep your promise to talk him through it, starting with, “just like that, Rafe- mmmph- feels so good. God, I can feel you so deep.”
His brows furrow in concentration, thrusting harder, desperate to drag more praises from your kiss-chapped lips. Your eyes train on the veins in his neck, throbbing with effort. You reach your other hand up and grab his chin, pulling his face so his eyes pierce yours.
“Shit, you look so good, fucking me like you needed to,” you cry.
As much as he loves the eye-contact, he’s still wearing this stupid sweater for a reason, and he needs to remind you. He matches you by placing his hand on your face, soft but firm, and directing your gaze down to see him pistoning into you.
“Oh my god, that’s so hot,” you smile, admiring the creamy mess you’re making on his shaft. “You’re fucking covered in me, baby. Made me so wet comin’ in here looking this good.”
He removes his hand from your head, looking for a non-verbal way to thank you for your compliments. He presses his thumb to your tongue, and you don’t need words to know what he’s doing. You get it nice and wet, swirling spit around his thumb with your tongue. Once it’s ready, he lowers it to your clit, rubbing back and forth a few times before forming steady circles.
“Ah- fuck- yes, Rafe that’s so-” Your commitment to keep talking falters as pleasure floods your mind, robbing you of your voice.
He knows what you need, he always knows what you need. He pulls your hand from his chin and places it on his chest, you bunch the fabric of his sweater so he can release it from his teeth.
“There ya go,” he coos. “Need me to talk you through it, huh?”
You nod desperately, confirming what he already knew.
“Couldn’t even concentrate in my meetings,” he begins, panting with the effort he’s putting in, not letting up his pace. “Thinkin’ about you here waiting for me, walking around the house in those little shorts. How am I supposed to close deals when I can’t stop thinking about bending you over the kitchen counter and fucking this perfect pussy, huh?”
His words have exactly the effect he was hoping for, you are beside yourself, moaning and squirming beneath him. Letting out the sweetest little “oh, oh, ohs” as his cock rocks your whole body. He's losing tempo, both of you nearing the edge. You bring your other fist up to bunch his sweater, too, grasping so tightly you're afraid you're gonna tear it. You clench around him as he keeps talking.
“That’s it, baby, squeeze me as hard as you can - fuck!” He's unraveling, needing to find the words to get you there so he didn’t finish first. “Fuck, that’s my good girl.”
Just as he expected, that’s what finally did it for you. You cry out his name as sparks exploded in your tummy, coming so hard you have to bury your face into his chest to keep from screaming. He follows behind you almost immediately, his hot cum spurting into you as his primal groans and grunts echo through the room.
A few minutes later, you’re cleaned up and cuddled in his bed, now wrapped up in his sweater, the stretched-out fabric engulfing you. He smirks as his hands run over the material, rubbing over your stomach and waist lovingly.
“Might have to wear this thing every day if that’s how you’re gonna react,” he teases you.
“Uh-huh,” you giggle. “Good luck getting it back.”
⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠂⠄
a/n: omg i'm so sorry I just literally couldn't not, the chokehold this sweater has on me is unnatural like y'all don't even need to read this it was just a passion project for me. all hail Blue Sweater.
5K notes · View notes
aurorawritestoescape · 4 months ago
Text
HEATWAVE || Joel Miller x f!reader || 2,5k
Summary: Joel helps you to cool down on a hot summer day. In his own way.
Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, pwp, horny!Joel, sweaty filthy sex, m!masturbation, unprotected piv, creampie, cum eating, fingering, praise kink, swearing, pet names (baby, sweetheart). Pics are for the mood only, reader has no specific physical descriptions.
A/n: I’ve been dying of heat all week but imagining Joel railing me slightly alleviated my hardship. Hot Joel kiss to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing😘 Dividers by @saradika-graphics 💕Hope you will enjoy this story. Love ya!❤️
same couple - HEATWAVE collection || MASTERLIST
Tumblr media
“Don’t, Joel.”
“What?”
“Don’t touch me, please. It’s too fucking hot.”
Joel sighs and falls back on the couch as you shift away from his feet, getting comfortable as far as possible from his heat radiating body.
“Fine. Jus’ wanted to make you feel good. You’ve been snappy all day.”
“Sorry. It’s all this damn heat! I’m dying without the AC!” You groan and shake the hem of your crop top, trying to cool off just a little. You’re wearing the tiniest shorts you could find but nothing really helps when you’re dealing with a Texas summer without any conditioning.
“It’ll be fixed tomorrow, baby, don’t worry.”
“I know but… ugh!”
You throw a glance at Joel who has the most sympathetic expression on his handsome face. You also can’t deny that he looks hot like this, completely naked except for his home shorts. His broad chest, rising and falling in steady rhythm, is glistening with sweat, his thick thighs are spread and his cock is slightly tenting his only garment. You’d eat him whole if not for the fucking heat!
Torturing you even more he gives you his bedroom eyes and you bite your lip, thinking how to fuck him without touching him. Suddenly your gaze lights up.
“Oh! I know what we need!”
He raises one brow in a silent question and you start hastily explaining, at the same time grabbing your phone off the coffee table and opening a browser,
“I’m gonna look for hot weather sex positions.”
Joel chuckles and you furrow your brows at the man.
“No, don’t laugh. They minimize skin contact and should be easy on the movements. I saw an article once.”
Your pussy aches more and more the longer you watch Joel splay on the couch and you need him to be on board with your idea but he doesn’t seem very enthusiastic.
“Not sure it’ll help much but…let’s try it,” he shrugs and you beam at him before typing away.
As always when you need it the most, the internet is slow and you shake your leg, already losing patience.
In your peripheral vision you notice Joel move and your eyes shift from your phone screen to him for just a second. You do a double take when you see him pull the waistband of his shorts down, freeing his semi hard cock, as his mischievous gaze is set on you.
"What are you doing?" you groan at the sight of his big hand, wrapping around his long juicy member.
"Jus' a lil' pre-game, baby. Go on with your research."
You watch him give his manhood a few languid pumps and your mouth waters when some wetness beads on the tip. A new surge of desire burns your core and your breathing fastens. A few seconds later you remember what you were doing and turn away from the hot sight so you could return to the task at hand.
You try to open the first link but it’s loading for eternity so you close it with a curse and press the second one.
Then soft grunts reach your ear and you see Joel pleasure himself in earnest, as his cock is drooling on his veiny hand.
“Hey, wait for me, would you?” You grumble, tapping the same link three times, as if it can make it open faster.
“I’m imagining your hand doing it, sweetheart,” Joel smirks with his eyes already hazy as his palm is sliding up and down his length, thumb brushing over the tip from time to time, “or your pretty mouth, licking my cock. Oh, I bet your pussy wants some of this. She doesn’t care about the heat.”
You know he’s teasing you so you’d hurry up but the solution of your problem is so close that you can’t just stop now. So you fix your shorts that are sticking to your already wet folds and avert your eyes from your tormentor.
“Fucking cookies,” you curse, getting hotter because of the sweltering weather and also after noticing Joel buck his hips to fuck his fist better.
Finally you find an illustration of an almost contactless sex position and tilt your head, trying to understand it.
“Where’s his..? Oh! But… Nah. I’d break your dick like that.”
“We don’t want that,” Joel chuckles, his voice strained with pleasure he’s giving himself.
You’ve never seen him jerk his cock for such a long time so your gaze involuntarily shifts away from your phone again and you shamelessly stare at his hand gliding up and down his stiffness.
“We miss you,” Joel taunts you, seeing desire paint your face, and shakes his cock from side to side, spilling precum everywhere.
“Joel..” You whine and using every ounce of your will you tear your eyes away from his body and return them to the screen.
“Ok, this one is more doable. But it’ll take me forever to come like that… Oh and this… this just defies gravity.”
Giggling at the picture, you show Joel the screen and he gives you a polite smile but his half-lidded eyes tell you that he’s already deep in the ocean of lust, close to reaching his high.
Your gaze slides down to his throbbing cock, his big hand jerking it and you give up. You throw your phone back on the table and with a quiet “Fuck it,” you decide to literally fuck it. Fuck Joel.
Your man’s eyes light up as he coos at you,
“Yeah, c’mere, baby. Come sit on your popsicle.”
You laugh, climbing up the couch over his huge body and straddling his thighs. His skin is unbearably hot but your need overshadows everything.
You take his cock in your sweaty hands and purr, wetting your lips, “popsicle? shall I lick it first then?”
“Usually I wouldn’t say ‘no’ to that, but…,” he says, taking in your body, wrapped in a tight crop top and little shorts. You hear him groan as you lean down to his leaking cock but then his hand on your cheek stops you, “but! I’ve been playing without you and … My cock’s ready for your sweet pussy, baby. Gimme.”
With that he shifts to the side and pulls you to lie down next to him on the couch. The warmed up surface and Joel’s huge body pressed close to you make you whine as another wave of heat hits you.
“Shh,” Joel shushes you and clumsily sits up, almost making you fall off the narrow seat.
He takes his shorts off and helps you discard your clothes as well.
“Fuck, look at you,” he mumbles, his hungry eyes travelling over your exposed body, “wanna lick you all over.”
You take a sharp breath, suffocating with lust, but then Joel does the unforgivable. He lays down on top of you, pushing your legs apart with his knee, and you’re about to cry at how hot the vast expanse of his sweaty skin makes you.
“Joel!” You cry out, trying to push him off, palms braced on his chest, but the next second his lips crash against yours and he’s giving you a heady kiss which quickly makes you forget all about the heat. You’re immediately enchanted by him, his taste, his desire for you. The kiss is sloppy and messy and you cool off a little whenever your wet lips part from each other, even only for a second.
Soon sweat coats your body and Joel’s cock pulsating against your belly turns you into a desperate puddle. To get some respite from the heat, you tilt your head down and blow on your chest.
“It won’t help,” Joel murmurs, “Maybe this will.”
He hunches over you, leans down and licks a long stripe from your breast over your neck and jaw and reaches your lips and kisses you again. You hum with pleasure, noting your salty taste on his tongue and enjoying the sensation of the cooling wet path on your skin.
You’re making out for a few more seconds but the ache between your thighs makes your wriggle under him and Joel hastily lifts his torso and hovers over you, his chest inches from yours as you breathe out after this tiny relief. You glance down and see his heavy cock rest on your mound, his balls pressed to your folds, some wetness smeared on your belly where he is leaking on you. The sight makes you whine his name and reach for his big member.
It’s hot, stiff and damp when you caress it gently with your fingers and Joel’s dark eyes lower to the place where you’re making him even harder if it’s even possible.
“Put it in, sweetheart. Want you on my cock already. You’re drippin’ all over me. My balls are fuckin’ drenched.”
His Texan drawl is even more apparent when he’s so turned on and you know it’s time for him to fuck you. But he teased you so much. Why can’t you?
You throw your legs apart wider, but pressing your hips deeper into the couch, pull away from Joel’s hot crotch. You feel the air slightly cooling your sopping pussy and it feels so amazingly good, that a gasp climbs up your throat.
“Where’re you goin’, naughty girl?” Joel groans and rolls his hips against your pussy, scorching you with his heated thighs, balls and cock, making you mewl. He overplays you, making your hungry hole clench around nothing, clit twitch and you immediately bring your hand down and push his pulsating hot length into your soaked entrance. Both of you moan loudly at the anticipated sensation.
Joel drops his body on you again, holding some of his weight as he braces his forearm on the couch.
You should be uncomfortable, annoyed, hot and miserable but all you feel is his cock spreading your insides, his balls rubbing against your ass. His scent, a mixture of sweat and musk with a slight trace of his favorite piney deodorant, envelops you completely. He invades all your senses at once and you let him, welcome it with your body and soul.
“Joel,” you whisper, choking on your feelings and hugging him even closer.
“I know, baby, I love you too,” he replies, covering your whimpering mouth with his and drinking your oh’s and ah’s.
Soon he’s rolling his hips, his thrusts languid and gentle, as you’re making out, glued together by desire and love. You become one as the heat, radiating from the two of you and the sweat on your skin are mixing together and your bodies slide against each other in this lustful dance.
His cock is massaging your walls, kissing your cervix with its fat head and you glide your hands over the expense of Joel’s dewy back, shoulders and arms before they sneak down and you grab handfuls of his ass. You start grinding your pussy against his pelvic bone and coarse hair.
Suddenly Joel lifts his torso and looks at you, blown out eyes darting between yours, his hips still moving.
“You’re drownin’ my cock, sweetheart. So fuckin’ wet. My perfect pussy. Wanna see?”
After hearing your sultry ‘yeah’, Joel brings his hand to your face, brushes your lower lip with his thumb and then his palm glides down your heated body. Your skin erupts in goosebumps from the gentle contact and you whimper when he runs his fingers over your slicked up folds, spread around his fat cock.
You lift your hips chasing his touch on your clit, and he grants your wish. His index and middle finger find your hardening bud and he swirls it for a few seconds, closely watching your reaction. Your lips part and eyes flutter shut, as his cock and fingers make your pussy purr. Joel’s manhood twitches deep inside you before he pauses his thrusts into your wet heat.
Suddenly he pulls his cock out entirely.
“Joel! No!”
He tsks at you for the impatience but then his girthy length gets replaced by three of his fingers and you gasp and then moan when he begins pushing them in and out of your messy cunt, curling them to press the pleasure spot inside your core.
Joel sees how close you’re by the way your eyes roll to the back of your head and your walls start squeezing his digits harder and harder. He places his thumb on your clit and pushes, sending a new wave of ecstasy to your brain and you cry out as your climax hits your sweaty body. The drops of your sweat slide down on the couch because of how hard you tremble under him and Joel watches the euphoria course through you with an adoring gaze.
“Yeah, jus’ like that. Good girl.”
When you still and open your spent eyes at him, his fingers curve inside you as he scoops your slick and cum and then pulls them out. He raises his hand and watches your creamy juices slide down his hand.
“Joel,” is all you manage to mewl, witnessing your liquid euphoria.
With his tongue peeking out, he brings his hand to your chest and paints your pebbled nipple with your wetness. Then he leans closer and blows on it and you moan at the temperature change.
“Yeah, you like it, huh? Dirty girl.”
As if confirming his words, your nipple hardens more and with a grunt Joel latches onto your breast and licks off the taste of your pussy. You whimper as another course of pleasure reignites your core.
Joel hums, enjoying the flavor of your skin, and the next moment his cock spears you in one go and he begins pounding into you, pulling his hips back fast and thrusting his throbbing manhood into your sopping pussy with hard and sharp strokes. His tongue continues dancing over your tits and you clench his curls with the last drops of strength you have in your spent body. After a few more thrusts, Joel parts from your puffy nipple and growls, still railing you.
“Fuck, baby— choke my cock again— C’mon, be a good girl—come again.”
He kisses you passionately while his hand slithers down between your bodies and he starts rubbing your clit, chanting, “One more, one more.”
In no time you’re squealing as your pussy is clamping around his cock and it sends him over the precipice. Joel breathes out a moan and his hips jerk again and again, sending rope after rope of his hot cum inside you. Your cunt keeps milking him of the last drop as he presses his sweaty forehead to yours, your eyes locked with his and full of gratitude, love and euphoria.
You’re descending from your highs together, limbs tangled and bodies flush against each other. To your surprise the sweat cooling your skin and his cum seeping out of your pussy send a shiver down your spine.
“I’m cold,” you mumble into the crook of his neck.
“Really? Maybe we don’t need AC at all? I can just fuck the heat out of you?”
“Yes, we do,” you disagree, giggling.
“But I loved helping you, baby. We should reschedule the repair for next week.”
You push him off you, burning the man with a fiery gaze, “Don’t you dare, Joel Miller.”
“I’m kiddin’, sweetheart,” Joel chuckles, hugging you tight and shutting your grunts up with a kiss. A second later you feel hot all over again.
Tumblr media
Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic!💖
Same couple - HEATWAVE collection || Masterlist
General tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk
If you'd like to be tagged in my future fics, let me know!💕
1K notes · View notes
stargirlrchive · 1 year ago
Text
── KINKTOBER DAY NINE
mirror sex w/ simon riley ─ female!reader
cw: reader being insecure, fingering, p in v, slight choking, slight hair pulling, soft dom simon, cum play(?)/finger sucking, PRAISE AND BODY WORSHIP (RAHHHH)
NSFT ✩ MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)
KINKTOBER MASTERLIST ✩ GENERAL MASTERLIST
Tumblr media
“you can’t be serious, love.”
your shoulders shrugged softly as if to brush it off, as if this hadn’t been weighing on your heart so heavily.
“i just don’t-” you cut yourself off before sighing defeatedly, “i don’t like how i look right now. i prefer not to go out and just be home, where im not going to be hyper-aware of how i look.”
simon’s eyebrows pinched together in confusion, his eyes glazing over you entirely. you were perfect. he didn’t understand what there was not to like. but as you began to fidget under his stare, guilt ate at him.
guilt for not realizing your own insecurities had begun to eat at you and that they had festered to the point where him looking at you caused you to squirm. he leaned closer, hands rubbing up your thighs and towards your waist to pull you to him.
he sat you firmly on his lap, his face digging into your neck as he inhaled your familiar scent. “has my pretty girl not been feeling her best?”
your face grew hot as his hand laid on your belly, toying with the elastic of your shorts. you answered him with another shrug.
his fingers stilled for a brief moment, “do you want me to make you feel better, hm?”
you gave him a short nod before he pried your legs open. his fingers dipping between your thighs to rub at your clit through your shorts. a soft hiss leaving your mouth as you relaxed into him, “need you to tell me when you aren’t feeling good, baby.”
you whimpered when his fingers left your clit, standing up and taking you with him. his big hand moved back up to your belly as he guided you both to your bedroom.
when he walked the two of you past the room and into your bathroom, your eyebrows furrowed together.
“i thought-”
he nipped at your ear, closing the door behind him with his foot as he caged you in between the restroom vanity and his hard muscled chest. “we are. but i want you to look at yourself while i fuck you.”
his fingers slowly removed your shirt, pressing his hardening cock against your ass as he kissed down your throat, “want you to remember just how fucking beautiful you are.”
you were about to protest but a soft growl came from simon and the words died on your tongue. his fingers unclasping your bra. his eyes hungrily devouring the sight before him as his fingers skimmed over your belly and towards your breast.
“so pretty,” he mumbled more to himself, but it didn’t stop the familiar ache that began to throb between your thighs.
his thumb gently swiped across your nipple and it hardened beneath his touch. his face tucked into your neck as he groaned quietly, “fuck.”
through the mirror, he watched you with an almost drunken haze. watching the way your body reacted to his touch.
his fingers slowly pulled down your shorts, leaving you in only your underwear. his fingers slipping into the fabric and rubbing at your clit. sliding his thick fingers between your folds.
“already so wet for me.”
your face colored in embarrassment and tucked into his neck to not look at yourself anymore. simon gave a soft click of his tongue, showing his disapproval.
his unoccupied hand wrapped around your throat, tilting your face and forcing you to watch yourself. your thighs quivered gently as one of his fingers sunk into you.
“i said i wanted you to watch.”
you whimpered softly at the command in his voice, still so very gentle but firm that you felt it in your bones. your cunt clenched around his finger.
the flat of his palm laid against your puffy clit as he eased a second finger into you. “how could you possibly think you aren’t beautiful?”
your eyes practically rolled to the back of your head as his cock rutted against your ass. “do you have any idea of how many times i have to restrain myself from just fucking you wherever we’re at?”
you cried out softly as his fingers gently tightened around your throat, your eyes snapping back open to watch yourself as he fucked you with his fingers.
“or how many times i have to stop from fucking ripping the eyes out of some idiot who’s lookin’ at you for too long?”
you came around his fingers quickly and unexpectedly, and simon grunted when your thighs closed around his hand.
“you drive me crazy, baby. it’s not fair.”
you were breathless and loose, simon slipping his fingers out of you and towards your mouth. your lips instinctively wrapping around his fingers as you licked them clean.
you whined quietly when he pulled his fingers out, “see? you even taste good.”
his fingers unwrapped from your throat and your panties were being pulled down your legs. simon was spreading your thighs before you knew it.
his sweats pulled down only enough for his hard cock to be out. “no fair-”
he laughed softly, pressing a kiss to your hair as he tapped his cock against your clit, one hand on your stomach to keep you up right, your back against his chest. and the other guiding his shaft through your slick folds.
he pushed the tip of his cock into you, grunting softly, “say it, baby-”
your fingers gripped at the counter, even with him stretching you out with his fingers he was still so big. it always took some getting used to.
“say you’re my pretty girl.”
he sunk fully into you, pressing soft kisses to your hair before delivering short, shallow thrust.
your eyes had locked onto simon’s through the mirror, and maybe it was the conviction in his voice, or the sex haze, but either way you did feel it.
like you were his pretty girl.
“come on, baby. say it.”
one of his hands laid on your hip while the other tangled in your hair. his thrust increasing in speed as he grunted soft praises into your ear.
“i-im your pretty girl.”
“damn right you are.”
his thrust picked up pace, fucking into you as his arms wrapped around your body, pulling you and holding you against him. grunting into your ear as you squealed softly from pleasure.
“my sweet girl, you make such pretty noises too.”
you were sure your face couldn’t have burned hotter. his compliments seeping into your skin as you tightened around his cock.
your body spasming against his hold as he held your gaze through the mirror. fucking you through your orgasm.
a quiet groan fell from his mouth as he came, deep inside of you and not once did he let you go. the both of you panting and exhausted as he kissed your neck.
“want you to tell me next time you’re feeling like this. i’ll make sure to remind you just how lovely you are.”
and you knew that he would.
Tumblr media
taglist: @trashfox @king-julian6201 @cyberfreaky @tojisun @lazystorycollector @cosmicanakin @yeoldedumbslut @httpsmama @punk-22 @youcraveet @moxiz @hisa-plush @alastairheir @ra-im @ifellinthebong @darlingvinny @aeplern @tallmanlover @screamingoverfiction @mixling-blog @pretty-npeach @babygirl-riley @cringeycookies ; lmk if you would like to be tagged <3
6K notes · View notes
soaps-mohawk · 7 months ago
Text
Cherry Red, Crimson Blood
Chapter 16: Big Brown Eyes
Summary: Things have returned to normal, or at least they seem to have. Nothing can ever go your way, though, can it?
Pairing: Poly 141 x reader
Word Count: 7925 words
Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, unprotected sex, p in v sex, oral sex, face sitting, grinding, spanking (it's like once and not even on the ass), Kyle is definitely a munch, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, reader is a little shit, angst, PTSD, nightmares, trauma, mommy issues, family issues, language, the author's bias showing just a tad.
A/N: Have you ever cried while writing smut? I have. Had two mental breakdowns during the course of this chapter, the worst of the two during the smut scene. Sobbing while writing the reader getting her back blown out? That's a new one for me. But, I did it. I finished Chapter 16 this week. I'm feeling significantly better than I was, at least physically. Giving it to you a day early because I feel bad about not posting last week. The events of this chapter pick up pretty much where the previous one left off. Timeline wise, this chapter is spread over roughly a week-ish. And special thanks to the battle rattle anon for inspiring part of this chapter 🫶
MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->
(This is my all time favorite gif of him I swear I stare at it way too much)
Tumblr media
You’re clawing at the door frame, desperately clinging to the last thing you can hold on to, the last shred of your life as you know it. You fight the hands pulling at your arms, threatening to pull you away from the comfort, the warmth, the safety of your home, of your pack. 
Your mothers grief-stricken sobs reach your ears, her cries of desperation as they rip you from her, your father’s hate filled gaze directed at you over her shoulder as he holds her back. She loves all her children, but you were always her favorite. The bond between you two was always the strongest. 
Now you know why. 
The arms rip you from the doorframe seconds before the door slams closed. It’s like a gavel strike declaring your fate, cutting you off from everything you knew. You’re pulled back from the door, from the house that had become your safe space, from the pack inside. 
They’re not your pack anymore. The thought is like a sharp knife, severing the lifelong bond in your mind. You’re not a part of them anymore. You’re alone in this world, cut off from what you knew, and it’s all your fault. 
If only you could have presented as an alpha, like you were supposed to. 
Tumblr media
You’re sobbing, breaths coming in choking gasps. Your chest feels tight, your body tense and aching as you fight against the constricting hold around you. 
“Easy, easy.” A deep voice murmurs in your ear, your senses beginning to return. “Yer alright, kitten.” 
Your breaths continue to come in shaky gasps as you start to recognize your surroundings. You’re in Johnny’s room still. His arms are wrapped tight around you, your own pinned against your chest. You had fallen asleep before you even realized it, exhausted after your night with Johnny. 
“Ye were havin’ a nightmare.” He says, projecting his natural beta scent in an attempt to get you to relax. 
You squeeze your eyes shut, letting the scent start to numb your brain. The tears continue to slide down your cheeks, but slowly your breathing begins to normalize. Johnny begins to loosen his hold around you, not letting you go, but enough that you don’t feel like you’re being constricted anymore. 
“Si gets them too.” Johnny continues, speaking quietly. His breath is warm as it fans your ear, reminding you that you’re awake now, and your nightmare is behind you. “Woken up tae elbows and fists in my face many times.” 
You keep your eyes closed, taking in deep breaths as Johnny lays with you in silence, his fingers gently stroking your arms. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep. You hadn’t meant to have a nightmare. Not in front of them. You knew it would happen eventually, but you had hoped you could avoid it as long as possible. 
You don’t want to reveal your weakness, your pain, your inner struggle to them. They have enough of their own, they don’t need to know how broken you are too. 
You lay there, slowly calming your breaths and the slight tremble in your limbs as you wait for Johnny to begin questioning you. He’ll want to know, he’ll want to hear what it is that’s plaguing your mind. You’ll have to tell him, you’ll have to explain everything and then he’ll want to know more. He’ll want to unearth the brokenness and the pain that you’ve buried so deeply like an archaeologist looking for the secrets of an ancient civilization. 
You don’t want to reveal it, you want to bury it again, lock it back in the recesses of your mind where it can’t hurt you. You want to compress it back down until you feel safe again without the threat of the past hanging over your head. 
Johnny continues to relax his hold around you as you begin to calm down again, the tears finally slowing to a stop. You take deep breaths, trying to match Johnny’s even breathing behind you. You wait for it, the inevitable question, the prodding, the digging. He’ll want answers, he’ll want to know what plagues your mind, how much it’s been happening, why you haven’t said anything. 
You’re not sure how much time passes as you lay there, counting breaths. It’s silent in the room, in the barracks. Even outside it’s quiet, as if the world is holding its breath, waiting patiently for the shoe to drop, for the truth to get revealed. 
You can't wait any longer. The tension is too thick, the thought of waiting for the question to break the silence is too much. You'll rip the bandaid before he can try and force it from you. “I don't-”
“Ye don't have tae tell me.” He cuts you off before you can even start, the words slicing through yours, stopping you from spilling your darkest, innermost thoughts. “We all have them sometimes. No shame in that.” He tightens his grip on you for a moment, pulling you closer against his chest. “Simon doesn't even tell me all of his. Thinks he might scare me off, or somethin'. I'm no’ gonnae force ye to tell me anythin’ if ye don’ want to.” 
You're taken aback by his words. You suppose they all have to be plagued by nightmares of their own, with the kinds of things they have to see when they're in the field. Ghost had told you a bit about the nightmares that haunt him, and that had only been one tragedy, one mission. You suddenly feel silly. The kinds of things you’re afraid of, the nightmares that terrify your mind suddenly seem inconsequential to the things they must dream about at night. 
You wiggle in Johnny’s arms until you’re facing him, his eyes half closed as he stares down at you. You shift forward, pressing your face against his bare chest. His head tucks so his chin rests against the top of your head as he holds you, his breathing slowing just slightly as he drifts back to sleep. You don’t sleep, laying there awake as you listen to the slow, rhythmic beating of Johnny’s heart. 
He’s snoring quietly, breath fanning across your hair as he sleeps peacefully. You let your fingers trail over his skin as you wait for his early alarm that will signal the end of your quiet moments of bliss, snapping you both back into your realities. You trace the scars lining his skin, all of them with their own stories, just like John’s. 
He makes a garbled, snorting noise as your fingers brush over his ribs, his entire body twitching. His hand moves, his fingers wrapping around your wrist. “Tickles.” He murmurs, lifting your arm so it’s draped around his neck. He's asleep almost immediately, as if he hadn't woken at all from your tickling. 
You continue to lay there as he sleeps, your mind drifting between sleep and your racing thoughts until Johnny’s alarm goes off. He groans, reaching across you to turn it off. He lays still, breath still fanning over the top of your head. For a moment you’re worried he’s fallen asleep again, but eventually he moves, rolling on top of you. 
He presses his face against your neck, letting out a quiet groan. He’s heavy, but a solid weight above you. It’s comforting, the weight of him like a blanket keeping you safe. He presses gentle kisses against your neck, his fingers trailing across your shoulder before brushing over your mark. You let out a whine, arching against him. 
“Screamin’ Jesus.” He curses, getting hard against your thigh. 
“Don’t you have to go work out?” You ask as he begins to grind against you. 
“Would rather stay here with you.” He growls against your throat. 
“Won’t you get in trouble?” You gasp, bucking up against him. 
“Worth it.” He grunts, kicking the sheets off the end of the bed. 
Tumblr media
“Someone missed the morning workout.” Kyle says as you and Johnny sit down at the table for breakfast. You’re the last ones there, despite Johnny skipping his early morning workout. 
You take your normal spot between Kyle and John, sitting gingerly on the hard bench. There’s still a distinct ache between your thighs from Johnny’s enthusiasm and intense stamina last night and this morning.  
“Aye, don’t worry. I still got a good workout in.” Johnny says cheekily, winking across the table at you. 
You’re afraid you may combust as the other three pairs of eyes at the table look at you. It’s no secret what you were doing last night, or this morning. Johnny, as in most aspects of his life, is loud in bed. Kyle had known you were going to, and so had Simon, but you find your gaze turning to John as your face warms. 
You’re not quite sure what you’re expecting as you look at him. It’s not like he had forbidden you from pursuing relationships with the others, or even shown any distaste at the idea. You were open to love the other members of the pack, just as they did one another, just as he did. 
His face is stoic as he stares at you, before it begins to lighten, a gleam shining in his eyes. “Did he take good care of you?” He asks, the corner of his lips twitching. 
You swallow thickly, your face getting warmer as you nod. “Yeah.” 
“Good.” John grins. “ Then I suppose I can forgive him for sleeping in this morning, so long as it doesn’t become a habit.” He casts his glance across the table. 
“I’m a bad influence.” You say, spooning porridge into your mouth. 
“Certainly worth the trouble, though.” Johnny says, wiggling his eyebrows at you. “Especially when you do that thing with your tongue-”
Johnny’s words are cut off with a pained yelp as Ghost kicks him under the table. “Don’t go spilling all her tricks.” He grumbles, eyeing the tables around you. 
You think your face might be permanently warm at the thought of anyone nearby hearing the topic of your conversation. Of course they know, but hearing about it was something entirely different. 
Kyle walks you back to the barracks after breakfast, your hand in his, fingers laced together. His thumb rubs the back of your hand absentmindedly, shoulders brushing as you walk. Neither of you say anything, but you don’t have to. Unlike Johnny, Kyle is happy to exist in silence. They’re so very different, despite both being betas. 
Your brothers had often joked about betas being boring, and how glad they were that neither of your parents were betas. You’d disagree now, after spending some time around betas. They’re just as complex as alphas and omegas, in their own ways. 
Boring was the last thing you’d describe Johnny as last night. 
Kyle holds the door for you as you enter the barracks, following you down the hall. You stop in front of your door, your hand pausing on the knob as Kyle leans in close to you. 
His chest presses against your back, breath fanning your ear as he speaks. “Can’t wait to find out about this trick you do with your tongue.” 
Your face warms again, your heart thudding in your chest as you turn to look up at him, tongue darting out to wet your lips. “You could find out right now.” 
Kyle’s lips lift in a smirk as he leans in closer, trapping you against the door. “I’d love to, but I don’t think the Captain would be quite so forgiving if I skipped out on this training.” 
You stare up at him, lost in his big brown eyes. “Soon?” 
He smirks, leaning down to kiss you. “Of course. Just say the word.” 
He leaves you there with your heart thudding in your chest, your stomach churning in excitement. You’d be more than willing to go that extra step with Kyle right at this very moment, but the subtle ache between your thighs thanks to Johnny is a good reminder why you should wait. You want to enjoy your time with Kyle.
You know it will be worth the wait. 
Tumblr media
“How have you been?” 
You shrug, sinking back into the plush chair. It’s warm in the office, a stark contrast to the cold downpour outside. “Fine.” You answer, running your hands over your jeans. “Tired.” 
“Oh?” Dr. Keller raises an eyebrow at you. “Have you not been sleeping well?” 
“I’m...having a hard time falling asleep.” You say. It’s not entirely a lie, but it’s not the whole truth. 
“Why do you think that is?” She asks, writing something down. 
Your palms begin to sweat. You hadn’t planned on going into too much detail about this with her, but you knew she’d likely notice and remark on your tired appearance. “Been thinking too much.” 
“About what?” She probes, staring at you. 
You know you don’t have to tell her anything. What you share is up to you. Yet, you can feel the words bubbling up, threatening to spill over before you can stop them. “My family.” You say, releasing some steam from the boiling pot inside you. Tears burn your eyes, threatening to fall as you continue. “Especially my mom. I miss her a lot sometimes.” 
“You had a close bond with her.” Dr. Keller says. It’s not a question. 
You nod. “The closest out of all of my siblings.” You snuffle, wiping the tear trailing down your cheek. “Makes sense why.” 
“Sometimes we have traits or behaviors that show before we present that hint at our possible status. Having a stronger bond with one parent over another, especially in mixed status packs, can signal what one might present as.” Dr. Keller says. “Were you the first omega to present in your pack?” 
You nod. “Yeah. My older brothers were alphas, and I don’t know about my younger siblings.” 
“That could all contribute to a strong bond with your mother.” Dr. Keller leans back in her seat. “I’m assuming you haven’t had any contact with them since the institute.” 
“Not since I was taken from home. The institute didn’t support keeping those connections with previous packs and...I don’t think they would have reached out anyway.” You say, picking at the fabric of your pants. 
“What makes you say that?” Dr. Keller asks. 
You pause, not sure you want to open that bag of worms. If anyone is safe enough to do it with, you know it’s going to be Dr. Keller. She won’t judge you, she won’t think you weak or silly for having such thoughts, such fears. She doesn’t care how broken you are. You’re not part of her pack. She’s an outsider, a doctor above all. 
“Well, they did send me to the institute, didn’t they?” You finally say. 
Dr. Keller hums, staring at you for a moment before she drops her gaze to her notebook, writing something down. “I suppose you have a point there. Hypothetically, if you were given the chance to, would you want to talk to them again? It’s not uncommon for omegas to seek out their previous packs and families after they leave the institute.” 
Your stomach twists at her question. Even if it is only hypothetical, you had existed for years in the institute thinking you’d never get to see or hear from your family again. They were behind you, lost to you. They wouldn’t accept your attempts to reach out to them, even if you knew where they were. Even after leaving the institute, you knew the chances of seeing them again or even just hearing from them was almost none. You have a new pack now, your old one doesn’t matter. 
That’s just the life of an omega. 
Would you want to? In this hypothetical world where this question exists as a potential option, would they even answer if you called? Would they accept an invitation to see you again, if they were given the chance? Could your father feel regret after all of these years for what he did to you? 
“I...” You frown, tears pricking your eyes again. “I don’t know.” 
“That’s okay.” Dr. Keller says. “It’s a complex situation. If you ever wanted to, though, I’m sure they could make it happen.” 
Your gaze snaps to hers, the shock at her words clearly written on your face. Of course they probably could. It was their job to hunt down hard to find people, and with the CIA at their backs, you’re certain they could track down your family easily. Would they do it for you, if you asked? Would they allow you to have that connection with your old pack while still being part of theirs? 
“Most people keep some form of contact with their family, even after they move on to their own pack.” Dr. Keller says. “It’s not unusual, even among omegas. Just something to think about.” 
“Do you still talk to your family?” You ask her, partly out of curiosity. 
“I do.” She smiles. “I talk to my parents pretty regularly, and my older brother occasionally. He’s involved in this world too. He was in the Army originally, but now he does whatever it is he does.” 
You’re surprised by her answer. Not so much that she still talks to her family, but that she’s familiar with this world. It makes sense, how easily she existed in it, beyond just being a professional. “Do you think it had something to do with you being chosen for this position?” You ask. 
“Most likely.” She grins. “Laswell probably wanted someone who is at least a little familiar with this world, but also someone she knew would work well with you.” 
“I think she made the right choice.” You say. It’s the truth. You like Dr. Keller. You trust her. You’ve grown comfortable in her presence and you look forward to your appointments with her. It almost makes you feel bad for withholding the truth from her. 
“Good. I think so too.” She says. “So, did anything exciting happen this week?” 
You chew on your lip nervously, your hands disappearing into your sleeves as your face warms a bit. “Johnny and I...had our first time together.” 
“Oh?” Her eyebrows raise. “And that’s something you wanted?” 
You nod. “Yeah. I’d like to get close to all of them, well, as close as Ghost will let me get.” You bite your lip again. “Ghost...gave me some pointers on how to handle Johnny. It worked. He...let me take control. I liked it.” 
“Nothing wrong with that.” Dr. Keller says. “I think it’s great that you’ve discovered this about yourself. I know omegas are so used to being controlled in society. I think it’s great that you’ve found a place where perhaps you can take a little control back.” 
She’s not wrong. Your entire life has been dictated for you, controlled by someone else. The baton of control was just continually passed from your father, to the institute, to the CIA, and now to John. Though John has granted you the most freedom of everyone that’s held control over you, there’s still requirements for obedience and submission to him. You’ll never be your own person. That’s just the way society works, and you’ve come to accept that. 
Yet, you’ve never felt quite so powerful as you did in bed with Johnny, when you’d gripped him by the mohawk like Ghost had instructed you to. When you saw the change in his eyes as you took over, controlling him, telling him what to do. You liked it, exerting control over someone else for a change. He just let you do it. It still sends a thrill down your spine at the thought of the possibilities, the things you can do now that you’ve discovered this part of yourself. You’d never show it in public, but behind closed doors...
The book was right. Perhaps omegas can be powerful. 
Tumblr media
“What are we doing?” You ask, staring up at John as he straps a tactical vest onto your body. 
“We’re doing an exercise, and you’re going to help us.” He answers, double checking the vest before putting a helmet on your head. “Think of it as hide and seek mixed with tag.” He finishes strapping the helmet to your head, taking a step back. “How does it feel?” 
“Heavy.” You feel weighed down with the vest and the helmet.
“You’ll get used to it.” He says with a smile, guiding you towards the door of the warehouse. 
It’s dark inside, nearly pitch black except for the light coming in from the open door. There’s fake walls set up in front of you, with space just in the middle like a sort of hallway that disappears into the darkness. 
“Your job is to get from this side of the warehouse, to the other without getting caught.” John says. “No weapons, just you trying to evade us and get to the other side while we try and catch you,” John lowers the goggles on the top of the helmet, the world coming alive in shades of green around you. “And night vision goggles. Be smart about it. Understood?” 
You nod, looking around with the goggles, trying to adapt to using them. “Yes, sir.” 
“Good. You have a thirty second head start. Use it wisely.” 
He leaves the warehouse, closing the door behind him. You’re left in complete darkness, with no sound but a fan running somewhere, probably to dampen any sounds that might echo. You stand there for a moment, trying not to breathe too heavily, as it might echo in the warehouse. You stare at the door behind you for a second before you begin to move forward, the adrenaline starting to pump. You have to get to the other side of the warehouse before they catch you. Are they working together or individually? What kind of strategy will they use? What strategy will you use? 
You begin to pick up speed, running until you reach the end of the first hallway. It splits off in both directions, and you hesitate for a moment. Be smart about it. You don’t have many advantages in this situation. They’ve done this before, both in training and probably in the field as well. They’re highly skilled soldiers, trained to hunt down people in all sorts of environments, sometimes with nothing more than their scent. 
Scent. 
Of course. 
You take off down the right hallway, following it as it twists and turns like a maze. A giant maze. There’s so many hallways, so many places to run, but not many to hide. That’s not the point, though. You have to get to the other side of the warehouse before they do. You have to track your way through this maze without getting caught by four special operations soldiers. 
Simple enough. 
You pause at a corner, undoing your vest so you can slip your sweatshirt off. You’re just putting your vest back on when the door opens, bathing the ceiling with light for a moment. It’s started. They’re inside. You can’t hear anything over the hum of the fan, and that’s almost more terrifying to you than if you had been able to hear them. The adrenaline is pumping now as you toss your sweatshirt in the corner before quickly backtracking and heading a different direction.
You try to keep your breathing quiet as you weave through the maze, doubling back and touching the walls every so often to try and leave your scent behind and confuse them. You take deep breaths through your nose as you go, trying to catch any whiff of them, any sign that you might have crossed their path or be getting close to them. They’ll reach the same area of the maze as you’re in eventually, sooner rather than later. You need to start pressing forward. You’re not just evading them, you have to reach the other side before they catch you. 
You slip around a corner, pressing up against the wall as something moves behind you. You hold your breath, quiet footsteps passing by your position. Your hands are shaking from the adrenaline, the instinctual fear of being hunted rising in you. You take a couple of quiet deep breaths, slipping your shoes off to grab your socks before slipping them back on. You peek around the corner, finding nothing. 
You toss one of your socks in the corner before doubling back, pausing as you cross one of their scents. Johnny. You recognize the citrusy tang in the air. Christ, you’ve never heard him be that quiet before. You continue on, your heart racing in your chest as you carefully weave around corners, slipping through hallways. They’re close to you now. They could be around any corner. 
You pause as you cross the scent of leather and musk, something prickling in the back of your mind. It’s a fresh scent. You pause for a moment, looking in the direction he went before slipping around the corner. You still have your other sock clutched in your hand, knuckles white as you grip it tightly. 
You should be nearing the end. The warehouse isn’t that big, even with all the doubling back and dodging you’ve been doing. You toss your other sock in a corner haphazardly as you decide to stop doubling back and go for the exit. You have to try and get ahead of them, as well as find your way through the maze to the exit door. 
Simple enough. 
Except, you have no idea which direction the exit is, or which direction you’re heading. You could be going backwards for all you know. You weave through the halls, around the corners, focusing on finding the end of the maze. 
In your concentration you fail to notice the scent, weaving through the halls mindlessly as you attempt to reach the end of the maze. You pay for it as the sound of boots on the concrete floor rushes up behind you. You let out a startled shriek of surprise as your feet leave the floor, your body ragdolling over someone’s shoulder. 
“Got her!” He yells out, weaving around a couple corners before light floods the warehouse, making you wince. 
Your squint as your feet hit the ground again, the night vision goggles lifted from your face. Your nose crinkles as you stare up at Kyle’s smug face, his lips pulled up in a smirk. 
“No fair.” You pout. “I was so close!” 
“You were, but you got sloppy at the end there.” He says, undoing the strap of your helmet to help you take it off. You’re sweaty underneath it, hair sticking to your forehead. You’re glad you ditched your sweatshirt now. 
“Not bad.” John says, exiting the warehouse, Ghost and Johnny following. “Nice strategy.” He says, tossing your sweatshirt to you. 
You shrug, hugging it to your chest. “Had to think fast with what I had on hand.” 
“Running around with no socks on too.” Ghost says, holding up your socks. 
“Left you a little present. You can keep them if you want.” You smirk. 
“Don’t want your nasty socks.” He grumbles, tossing them to you. 
“That was fun.” You say, grinning up at them. “Like being hunted.” You don’t miss the quiet rumble in John’s chest at your words, his eyes darkening just a bit. “Can someone help me out of this now though,” You say, reaching for the velcro straps on the vest. “It’s squishing my boobs.” 
Tumblr media
The TV is playing some show, but you're not really paying attention. You haven't been, not for a while now. Your adrenaline had still been pumping a bit after your participation in the exercise earlier, putting you on edge the rest of the day. It had been a bit thrilling, the idea of being hunted like that. You can understand now how omegas enjoy being hunted, beyond just the inevitable end. 
The thought of that being how the exercise ended, all four of them at once, out where anyone could see you...your skin begins to prickle as heat blossoms in your veins. Kyle would get to take you first because he won, he caught you so easily. Would John go second, or would he allow the other members of his pack to go first? Ghost would be rough, taking you from behind, hands bruising on your hips. Your teeth sink into your lip as you imagine him over you, a position you often found yourself in during your training with him. He's just so big, so strong. They all are. 
You won't be able to control yourself during training if you keep going down that thought path. 
John would be gentle, piecing you back together after the others have had their way with you. He'd take care of you, like a good alpha, dragging one more orgasm out of you after you think you can't anymore. 
You let out a shaky breath, trying to calm your scent. You're stinking up the rec room with your fantasies. You turn your head to look at the TV, trying to focus on what's happening on the screen in an effort to distract yourself. 
It doesn't work, the subtle dampness between your thighs ever present on your mind. You have half a mind to get up and seek out Kyle, but like a miracle he appears in the doorway of the rec room. You see his nostrils flare, the lift of his shoulders as he inhales. He can smell your arousal, the spike in the sweetness of your scent. You have no doubt about that. He doesn't say anything, though, instead he approaches the couch silently, kneeling at the end. 
He settles himself on top of you, resting his head on your chest. He lets out a breath as he settles, keeping some of his weight off of you, but he's still pressed against you like a weighted blanket. You fight the urge to shift beneath him, to press your hips up against him, to seek any ounce of relief for the warmth between your thighs. 
You're not sure he's watching the TV either as he lays there, relaxed over you. Your fingers trail patterns across his back, gliding over his soft shirt. He's in blue today, one of your favorite colors on him. He looks good in anything, the perks of being pretty, but blue is one of your favorite colors on him. 
It's silent between you for a while, Kyle relaxed above you while you fight to relax beneath him. If he’s affected at all by your scent, he hides it well. You have half a mind to ask him to take pity on you, to slip his hand beneath your sweatpants and ease the ache between your thighs. He had said whenever you wanted it. All you have to do is ask. 
You shift slightly beneath him, lifting your hand to his head. “Kyle?” You ask, gently trailing your fingers over his scalp. He'd gotten his hair buzzed recently, the curly strands shorter than normal. 
He hums in response, the sound rumbling through your body from where his head rests on your chest. When you don't reply right away he lifts his head, blinking up at you with those big brown eyes. 
“Kiss me?” You ask. 
Your heart starts to race as he pulls himself closer to you, his body dragging against yours. His eyes dart to your lips before they look back into yours for a moment. He leans down, slipping his arms underneath your back as he closes the gap between you. His lips are soft against yours, his kisses gentle and controlled as he holds you like you might break in his grasp. 
“Kyle?” You murmur against his lips, your arms wrapping around his neck. 
He hums again in response, pulling away just slightly to stare down at you. 
“‘M not gonna break.” You say, dragging your nails over his scalp again. “Kiss me like you mean it.” 
His lips twitch in a smirk before he leans down, pressing his lips hard against yours. It’s a searing kiss that nearly steals your breath away. His tongue prods at your lips, and you part them to allow him in. He tastes like the tea he had been drinking after dinner, rich and earthy with a hint of sweetness from the sugar he added. You moan softly into his mouth as his tongue flicks against your own, your thighs squeezing around his waist at the thought of that tongue between your legs. 
He smirks against your lips as if he knows exactly what you’re thinking, his body shifting over yours so he can press one of his thighs between your legs. You move instinctively, your hips grinding against his thigh. Finally you're getting some friction, some relief from the ache. 
“Fuck.” He breathes, pulling you tighter against his chest. “That’s it.” He groans, pressing his thigh harder against your grinding hips. “Gonna cum on my thigh, just like that?” He nips at your jaw, trailing kisses down the line towards your neck. “Haven’t even touched you yet.” 
You try to muffle your moans as you continue to grind against his thigh, the friction on your clit pushing you closer and closer to the edge. “Kyle?” You gasp out, gripping the back of his shirt. “Gonna fuck me on the rec room couch?” 
He lifts his head from your neck, staring down at you for a moment. “Fuck, you’re right. Your room or mine?” 
“Yours.” You say, hanging on for dear life as he scoops you up off the couch, wrapping your legs around his waist. 
He walks you to his room, carrying you the entire way. He kicks the door shut, beelining for his bed. He drops you down on the mattress, your body bouncing as he hastily peels his shirt off, revealing an expanse of smooth skin marked here and there by scars. You immediately reach out, trailing your fingers over his skin. It’s just as soft as it looks, your fingers trailing the lines of his muscles. 
His hand flattens over yours as it reaches his chest, pressing it into his warm skin as he leans down, kissing you again. His hands slip under your thighs, lifting you and switching your positions so he’s seated on the bed, and you’re in his lap. 
“Anyone ever tell you how beautiful you are?” He says, looking up at you. 
“I think it’s been mentioned before.” You say with a shrug, smiling down at him. 
“It’s the truth.” He says, slipping his hands under your shirt. “Deserve to hear it all the time.” 
“Bunch of handsome men complimenting me constantly?” You say, lifting your arms over your head so he can remove your shirt. “Can’t complain about that.” 
“Luckiest men in the world.” He says, smoothing his hands across your back as he presses his face into your throat. “Pretty little omega.” 
You shiver as his teeth nip at your skin, his thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts. You arch against his chest, pressing yourself closer. There’s a bulge in his pants, a shiver of pride running through you at the thought that you did that to him. You elicited such a reaction from him. 
“I never properly thanked you.” You say, wrapping your arms around his neck. 
“For what?” He asks, staring up at you curiously. 
“For taking such good care of me during my heat. Couldn’t have been easy, seeing me like that, knowing you couldn’t even touch me.” You grind your hips against his, his teeth sinking into his lip as you grind against his bulge. “Tell me, how many times did you touch yourself while thinking about me?” 
“Too many to count, love.” He groans, leaning his forehead against yours. “Sounded so sweet, getting ruined by our alpha.” 
“Been so patient, waiting for this.” You gasp, still rocking in his lap, the wetness between your thighs intensifying from the friction. “Tell me how you want me.” 
“Sit on my face.” He growls, pushing you off his lap so he can lay down on the bed. 
You shove your pants and underwear down your legs, fighting the urge to be bashful. Kyle has already seen you at your most vulnerable, been up close and personal with your most private parts. Yet, it feels different like this. More intimate, and less of a necessity. 
You take his hand as he offers it, letting him guide you to kneel over his face. You grip the headboard as you hover over him, his hands settling on your hips. 
“Wait-” You say, before he can pull you down onto his face. “What if I suffocate you?” 
“Then I’ll die a happy man.” He says, tugging you down onto his mouth. 
You let out a gasp as his tongue drags through your folds, already soaked from his teasing. His tongue flicks across your clit, eliciting a quiet moan from your lips. Your hips jerk when his mouth closes around your clit, suckling at it with a lewd smack of his lips. 
“Fuck!” You gasp, grinding your hips against his face as he continues to tease your clit, drawing patterns on it with his tongue. 
You’re close already, your legs trembling around his head. He holds you steady, keeping you still above him as he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking on it harshly. Your knees attempt to squeeze around his head as you cum, soaking his face with a cry. He continues to lap at your folds, licking up every last bit of your release before he finally lets you move off his face.
You drop to the side, staring down at him as you try to catch your breath. He licks his lips, his face shiny with your juices. He reaches a hand over, tangling his fingers in your hair as he pulls your face down to his, kissing you. You moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue and lips, already starting to get wet again. 
Kyle wraps his arms around you, flipping you onto your back under him. He hovers over you, the bulge in his pants very visible, even from this position. 
“Sweet little omega.” He says, nipping at your lips. “So fucking perfect.” 
“Kyle,” You gasp, pulling him down into a kiss. “Need you.” 
“I got you.” He soothes you, pressing another kiss to your lips before he sits back on his knees between your legs, staring down at you. He drags his fingers through your folds, still just as slick as they had been before your orgasm. “So fucking wet.” He groans, hastily undoing his belt and pants, kicking them off the end of the bed. 
You stare at him in awe, his cock just as beautiful as he is. Long and thick, curved just slightly. You can’t help but ogle him as he wraps a hand around the base, squeezing it. He’s hard, raging hard, the tip leaking precum already. He really has been so patient, waiting for this. You almost feel bad making him wait so long, but he had agreed to be patient, if only to keep Johnny from making everyone’s lives miserable with his pouting if he didn’t get to go first. 
It’s only fair that you let Johnny go first too, considering Kyle will likely be the one you spend the most time with. It’s only natural, thanks to your bond with John. Kyle’s your beta, just as much as John is your alpha. You’d like Johnny to be your beta too, but you know without that bond with Ghost, it’ll never feel quite the same as it does with Kyle. Regardless, you’ll continue to treat Johnny as if he was your beta. 
“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Kyle asks, watching you as you get lost in thought.
You truly do it at the worst possible times.
You lift your gaze to his, staring into those big brown eyes. “Just waiting on you to hurry up and fuck me.” 
You let out a yelp as Kyle’s hand smacks your inner thigh, the sound cracking through the room. 
“Don’t get cheeky now.” He warns, rubbing the spot on your skin that’s quickly turning warm from his smack. “Just making sure you’re alright.” 
“Fine.” You say, spreading your legs further for him. “Be better if you finally fucked me.” 
Your laugh is broken by a moan as he drags his head through your folds, his hand falling to grip your waist. 
“That needy for me, huh?” He asks, teasingly pressing the tip of his cock into you before pulling back. 
“Just worried you might not make it since you’ve waited so long.” You gasp, trying to move your hips to take him deeper into you, but he pins you with the hand on your hip. 
“Careful what you wish for.” He says, the warning clear in his tone. You handled Johnny just fine, you can certainly handle Kyle. 
You hope. 
He finally takes pity on you, sinking his cock deeper into you. You moan at the stretch, flopping back on the bed as you try to relax around him. He rolls his hips in short thrusts, sinking deeper and deeper as you open up to him. You reach for him as he sinks even further into you, his body folding over yours. You wrap your arms around his neck, staring up at him as he seats himself completely inside you, hips pressed flush against yours. 
“Hi.” You breathe, getting lost in his soft gaze. 
“Hi, love.” He grins down at you, fingers brushing your cheeks as he leans on his elbows above you. “Doing alright?” 
You nod, squeezing around him. “Yeah. Feels good.” 
“Good.” He says, leaning down to kiss you. “Been waiting so long for this. Feels better than I imagined.” 
You let out a quiet whine, clenching around him again. The thought of him imagining this, trying to picture what you’d look like, what you’d feel like while he waited patiently for his turn has your body burning hot. You shift your hips below him, causing him to move inside you. 
“Kyle?” You breathe, shifting again. “Please move.” 
“I got you, love.” He smiles down at you, pulling his hips back before slowly pressing forward again. 
Your head falls back as he moves, keeping his pace slow and languid. Heat burns through your veins, your very nerve endings alive as he slowly rolls his hips into you. Something thrums in the back of your mind, the mark on your shoulder almost tingling as you stare up at him, your fingers trailing over the mark on his shoulder, a mirror of the one on your own. A shudder runs through him as your fingers brush the scar, his lips parting in a low groan. You clench around him at the sight of such unbridled pleasure on his face, pulling him closer against your body.
He drags your pleasure out as he makes love to you, slow and passionate and deliberate with every movement. You know you won’t last much longer, the sensations beginning to overwhelm you. 
“I’m close.” You breathe into Kyle’s ear, pressing kisses across his neck. “Don’t stop.” 
“Gonna cum for me?” He groans, keeping his thrusts steady. “Gonna let me see that beautiful face as you come undone for me?” 
Your back arches as you cum, pushed over the edge by his words. Your nails bite into his shoulders, but he offers no complaint as he continues to roll his hips into yours, working you through your orgasm as he chases his own. His pace picks up slightly as he gets closer and closer to the edge, your eyes on his face, wanting to watch him now. 
“Your turn.” You breathe, still trying to catch your breath from your orgasm as you clench around him. 
His head tilts back, lips parted in a deep moan as his hips jerk. His cock twitches inside you, his thrusts getting sloppy as he cums. You trail your hands over his back, sinking your teeth into your lip as you watch his face morph into complete bliss. You’ve never seen anything quite so beautiful. 
He collapses on top of you, just managing to keep his weight off of you thanks to his elbows planted on the bed beside your head. You continue to rub his back, fingers tracing the smooth, sweat slicked skin, only pausing to trace the scars that you find. Kyle presses soft kisses to your face, slowly trailing lower across your jaw and neck. He presses a kiss to your mark, a shudder running through you. He lets out a groan as you clench around him, shifting so he’s face to face with you again. 
“Give me a minute.” He says, slipping out of you as he presses a kiss to your lips. 
“Tired already?” You ask cheekily. 
“No,” He says, kissing you again before slowly sliding down your body. “Just need a minute to catch my breath. Besides,” He settles between your thighs, pressing them open so he’s face to face with your pussy. “I’ve got a mess to clean up.” 
Tumblr media
You stand outside the door of John’s office, brows pulled into a frown. You have a feeling you already know what he’s going to say, yet your mind keeps reeling, coming up with the most fantastical ideas as to why you were summoned to his office in the middle of the day. It’s weird that he’s in his office in the middle of the day. Usually they’d be off training, but he’d pulled them all into a meeting this morning after breakfast, one that had gone into your usual lunch time, and then they hadn’t gone to train after you finally got to eat. 
“Come in.” 
Your hand pauses on the handle as you hesitate, almost as if you could prevent what’s going to happen by just not going in. It’s a ridiculous thought. Avoiding this will only likely get you into trouble. 
You step into the office, the air inside different from any of the other times you’ve been in his office. John’s face looks grim and focused behind his desk, and it’s not hard to tell you’re not facing John right now, you’re facing Captain Price. 
You take the seat across from him at his desk when he motions to it, trying to fight the tears threatening to brim in your eyes as you stare at him. You won’t cry. You knew this was going to happen eventually. You knew going in what was going to inevitably happen. You had been well prepared for this part of your new reality, yet you don’t want to acknowledge it now that you’re staring it in the face. 
“I know you’ve likely already figured out what’s going on.” He says, his voice gruff and deeper than normal. 
You can see it in his face. He’s fighting his own battle with having to tell you. You hadn’t expected it, to see him struggle with it. He knew it as well as you did. He knew it better than you did, and yet, you can see the turmoil behind that focused gaze. 
He lets out a sigh as he continues, hands closing into fists on his desk, his tone almost apologetic. The words sting despite the fact you had known they were coming, despite the fact you had expected them when you walked into the office. “This morning we had a debrief for a new assignment. We’ll be leaving tonight. All four of us.”  
NEXT ->
Tumblr media
Taglist:
@bobaprint @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @hayleybarnesx @protokosmonaut @fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @thatonepupkai @redwites @kattiieee @141trash @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg @beebeechaos @konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff @smile-child-13 @anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60 @evolutionarry @red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @linaangel @codsunshine @thriving-n-jiving @slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows @ttsbaby01 @heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10 @cassiecasluciluce @darling006 @sheep-from-rad @ohgodthebogisback @willow-sages @scythemood @daniblogs164 @mirzamsaiph
2K notes · View notes
revehae · 6 months ago
Text
rose creek motel
Tumblr media
pairing ↠ jaehyun x (f) reader
genre .. warnings ↠ smut, age gap (18+), drowning, noncon, baby trapping, unprotected sex, oral, angst
summary ↠ after eighteen years of complying with the rules of your domineering parents, you finally decide it’s time to wipe the slate clean and move away. rose creek motel is nothing in the grand scheme of your life, especially with a history of serial killers lurking around, but when you meet jaehyun, you decide that you’re not in any hurry after all.
wc ↠ 15.8k (i…dont Know)
a/n ↠ okay tbh i intended for the last smut scene to be Darker but you have to understand i was listening to horizon and forever only giggling and smiling and shit. cut me some slack pls. before you read, heed the warnings. i do not intend to glorify age gaps or predatory behaviors.
don’t like it, don’t read.
after a three-hour train ride to another city and another hour of wandering, you were thrilled to stumble across a motel before dusk. at first, there didn’t seem to be any nearby.
it was a smaller one, not part of any major chains throughout the country. there didn’t appear to be many staff nor customers. there was one dude who checked you in at the front desk and maybe a handful of cars in the lot.
not that it mattered. you wouldn’t be here long enough to be concerned about the sheer size of the place. a few days, maybe less, but certainly not more. the grand city of newark was waiting for you and you were borderline impatient to get there. but on the other hand, you wanted to savor this little trip. 
it would mark the first of your own, and the true beginning of your lifelong journey to find yourself.
any other person most likely would have been desperate to kick off their shoes and head to their room for the night, but the creek across the road from the motel caught your eye. you rushed over in spite of your aching feet as though it wouldn’t be there tomorrow, ambling along the riverbank. 
the waters rushed and crashed into slew of rocks, and you closed your eyes as you took in the sound. you could hear birds singing late afternoon songs and the rustling of trees in the early march spring. 
footsteps behind you startled you out of your peace. your foot slipped and your body lurched forward. had not a pair of big, burly arms clasped around you tightly, you would have slipped into the tiny creek. 
you glanced up in shock, meeting a handsome pair of innocent eyes. “sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, pulling you away from the bank. 
when you were safely on your own feet again, the handsome stranger released you. you straightened your skirt and smiled up at him. “it’s fine. thank you for catching me.”
“no problem. it would have been my fault if you fell.” he introduced, “i’m jaehyun. i work at the motel across here.”
you glanced back at the motel, as if you hadn’t seen it before. “oh,” you said, surprised. but the uniform clinging to him gave that away. “not much staff, huh?”
jaehyun smiled. he had deep, adorable dimples. “well, we are a pretty small motel. we do what we can with what we have.”
“do you get a lot of visitors?”
“usually just people with a road trip gone bad,” jaehyun said. “i’d ask what a girl like you is doing out here by yourself, but i don’t want to seem like a creep.”
you laughed, wondering how that would be possible. when you were as handsome as this boy was, it would’ve been more difficult. “no, it’s okay. i’m actually not having a car trouble. i got here by train. i’m on my way to newark.”
“newark,” jaehyun repeated, seemingly interested. “where from?”
“boston,” you chirped. “i’m starting afresh. my birthday was a few days ago and as my parents like to put it, i’ve ‘gone rogue.’”
jaehyun’s eyes went a little wider in surprise. “happy belated birthday,” he said. “how old are you now?”
you shrugged, deciding not to reveal too much information. you were maybe naive to a fault, but not a complete idiot. “that’s a secret. i’m an adult, though.”
jaehyun snickered. “that’s obvious. you checked yourself into the motel, didn’t you?”
well, that was true. but the exterior of the building seemed so shady, you’d initially doubted they would even bother with identification. you were grateful they didn’t require you to be twenty-one. a second longer of wandering and you would have collapsed on the side of the road. 
ignoring his question, you gave one of your own. “how old are you?”
mocking you, jaehyun put a finger to his lip and said, “that’s a secret. but i’m an adult, too.”
you shook your head, but there was an amused smile on your face. “fair enough,” you mumbled, turning towards the creek.
jaehyun’s attention shifted with yours. “it’s called rose creek, our namesake,” he told you. “not much to see out here.”
“that’s not true,” you disagreed. “there’s a ton to see in nature. you just have to open your eyes and look.”
jaehyun seemed amused, giving you a look. 
noticing his furrowed brows, you pointed towards the middle of the water. “look,” you said softly. “there’s a cute little baby turtle right there. they love creeks, because they’re an easy place to find tasty victims.”
jaehyun’s eyes focused, landing on what he had thought was a rock and only noticed upon further inspection was indeed a turtle, chilling in its leathery shell. “damn, you’ve got a good eye.”
you giggled. “i grew up near a creek. you learn to pick up on those sort of things.”
“ah,” jaehyun replied, nodding his understanding. “should we name it?”
“what would we name it?”
jaehyun shrugged. “squirtle.”
that almost prompted you to roll your eyes. “that’s too cliché.”
“then, what do you suggest?” jaehyun asked with a grin, crossing his arms. 
“i don’t know,” you mumbled. “donatello.”
jaehyun snickered. “and that’s any better?”
you threw up your hands. “okay. fine. how about… archie.”
well, that was different from the other suggestions. “why archie?”
“because turtles remind me of that one studio ghibli film about the red turtle,” you told him, lowering your head shyly as you explained yourself. “and when i think of red, i think of that guy from riverdale.”
“isn’t that that show about teens dying?”
you shrugged. “don’t know. never watched it.”
something about that was amusing to jaehyun and he decided that your suggestion was fitting. “alright. then, archie it is.”
you beamed. 
“well, it’s getting dark. i don’t think i have to tell you not to wander too late. you seem like a smart girl,” jaehyun said.
you glanced around at the shadows falling onto the rustling trees and the last gleams of today’s light shimmering on the creek. “you’re right. i should head up,” you replied, turning to face him. “have a good night, jaehyun.”
when you turned away, jaehyun realized he never got your name.
after a long night of trying to catch up on some much-needed sleep, you decided to head down to the pool. it was nice to see a motel with a couple of accommodations. they would make a good enough resting spot before you returned to your travels tomorrow.
there were a number of lounge chairs facing the pool, but instead you chose to climb into a hammock a few feet away from it. it was a nice spring day, neither too hot nor too cold, and you folded your arms behind your head while fighting the urge to close your eyes.
there weren’t a lot of people staying at or near the hotel, so you weren’t surprised to be alone. to think of it, you hadn’t seen anyone but a couple of staff. although you did walk past a room blasting heavy rock.
you heard footsteps, and turned to see jaehyun, sporting his burgundy uniform. he had a cart of towels, probably coming to restock. “jaehyun,” you called out.
jaehyun blinked up in surprise, likely not expecting to see you there. but when he did, he smiled and started to step over. “hey,” he said, digging his hands in his pockets. “you never told me your name.”
“whoops. silly me,” you replied, then told him your name. 
you watched him process it, as if he was deciding in his head whether he liked it or not. he repeated it quietly to himself and said, “that’s very pretty.”
“thanks,” you replied, bursting into giggles. “how’s work going so far?”
“oh, you know,” jaehyun started, gesturing over to his cart with his shoulder. “nothing new. i never thought i would complain about not having enough work to do.”
you snorted. “i get what you mean. i was a camp counselor one summer. those kids drove me mad, you know. but when they were gone, i cried.”
there was a shimmer in jaehyun’s eyes. “do you like kids?”
“yeah. they can be a handful, but they’re delightful. honestly, i don’t trust anyone who doesn’t like kids. how can you be mad at someone so innocent and full of life?”
jaehyun nodded his agreement. “i realized a long time ago that people who don’t like kids are always bitter and unhappy with their own lives.”
that made you snicker, and the more you thought about it, he was probably right. “look at that. projection at its finest.”
“can i ask a personal question?”
“sure,” you said reluctantly. “what’s on your mind?”
jaehyun seemed to hesitate, battling with himself in his head for a long minute before he asked, “would you ever have kids?”
that wasn’t so bad of a question. you hummed, not really having to think about it. you already knew your answer. “i’ve dreamt of settling down and having kids with the right person since i was young.”
jaehyun gawked a bit. “really?”
“yes, really,” you told him, laughing at his astonishment. “i guess you can say i’ve always had big dreams. is that surprising?”
“no, it’s…,” jaehyun trailed, finding no words. “those big dreams of yours. they couldn’t happen in boston?”
now that was a bit more personal. you blew out a breath. “well,” you began, glancing at the unnervingly still pool. “i just wanted a new environment.”
jaehyun was tempted to press, to figure you out even more, but he didn’t want to risk startling you off. “maybe you were fated to stop by a really old motel in the middle of nowhere.”
“and meet you?”
something about that made jaehyun smile. you were so smart. “and meet me,” he repeated.
by now, you knew that jaehyun was kind of into you, the same way you were kind of into him. so, you decided to test the waters. “too bad that i’m leaving tomorrow,” you murmured quietly. 
jaehyun heard you, and he frowned, though there was nothing he could do. it’s not like he expected you to put your whole life on hold for a guy you’d just met.
or maybe there was something he could do. “what if i gave you a couple of days on the house?” jaehyun asked.
your eyes flitted up at his deep brown pair. “really?”
jaehyun nodded. “what’s a few days?”
he had a solid point there. what was a few days? newark would still be there later on, and plus you had been taking your sweet time to make it there anyways. you weren’t in a hurry to get to this new life.
“then, i guess i’d stay,” you said, grinning wildly.
jaehyun mimicked a victorious grin. “i think i’d like it if you stayed much longer than that, but i know you’ve got big plans.”
in all honesty, that surprised you a little. he was talking to you as if you had been here weeks, and not less than twenty-four hours. “what would someone like me do in connecticut?”
jaehyun shrugged. “we’ve got… yale.”
you snorted. “and what makes you think i’m smart enough to get into yale?”
“actually, a lot of things. but i’d better get to work before i get caught slacking on the job,” jaehyun said, pointing to a camera projecting from the side of the motel that had a complete overview of the pool.
you gawked. “those things work?”
jaehyun laughed at your surprise. it was addictively cute, seeing his dimples deepen and his eyes sparkle. “you’re surprised?”
“a little bit,” you confessed quietly.
to your surprise, jaehyun’s hand softly brushed your arm. it was so gentle, so fleeting, you could’ve convinced yourself it never happened had you not felt a lingering tickle where he’d touched you. “see you around,” he said to you featherly.
“see you,” you replied in a small voice, having lost it all. your eyes were fixed to his back as he walked away.
damn it, you were wanting more of this guy you barely knew.
almost half an hour passed before you eventually decided to head back up to your room. you wanted nothing more than to get to know jaehyun better, but you would never interfere with a man’s pay. plus you were pretty confident that he would come to you when he was free enough.
there was a guy hovering over the railing next to your room, because he had been staying in the one beside yours. there was a joint between his fingers, although you had noted a couple of signs prohibiting it, not that anyone seemed to care. the stench of marijuana was all you could smell when you passed certain doors.
you had expected to slip past him and enter your room without interruption, so imagine your shock when he said, “i wouldn’t walk around here wearing stuff like that if i were you.”
like first nature, you tightened the towel around you. “excuse me?” 
the man didn’t look at you, facing the world. you could see the creek from here, and that was where his gaze seemed to be rooted, too. “when you’ve lived as long as me, you know things,” he told you. “you see that creek over there? a lot of bodies used to turn up there in the eighties. young girls that stayed here a night or two.”
you said nothing, because you had nothing to say. the obvious discomfort on your face was enough. 
“i’m just saying. you look like you’re alone. wouldn’t want anything bad happening to you,” he said, putting out the joint and walking away.
well, that was single-handedly the weirdest interaction you’d had at this motel so far. you hurried to unlock your room, immediately locking the door behind yourself.
you tried not to think much of it as you changed clothes, but you couldn’t help but wonder if that man was telling the truth or if he’d just had a little too much to smoke. either way, it was over twenty years ago. jaehyun had mentioned nothing to you about any serial killers.
then again, he was clearly trying to get you to stay. the last thing he would’ve wanted was to scare you off.
chill the fuck out. just don’t hang around any old people. like that guy, you told yourself, comforting.
given that you didn’t go out again that day, you didn’t see jaehyun at all until you finally emerged from your room the next afternoon in pursuit of a late breakfast. but when you glanced across the railing, you saw a figure all too familiar facing the creek.
forgoing breakfast for now, you raced downstairs and headed the road. they weren’t busy at all, although you still had a habit of checking before you crossed. 
jaehyun heard you approaching, but didn’t turn around to face you. “how come i just know that it’s you?” he asked. 
you snickered, but it wasn’t like too many people would be strolling around this creek out of a curious interest. “maybe i have really distinguishable footsteps?”
laughing, jaehyun finally met your eyes and beckoned you closer. you obliged, cautiously stepping to his side.
it was quiet for a moment, but it wasn’t awkward. the two of you were marveling at the beauty of nature together, enticed by what you saw. it was sunnier today than it was yesterday and sunlight filtered through the trees, shimmering on the water.
“i’ve been thinking about what you told me,” jaehyun finally said after a minute or two. “when you said there’s a lot to see in nature. and ever since, i’ve been looking and appreciating the little things i didn’t notice before. you were right.”
“of course, i am,” you replied, but the cockiness was to hide the flutter of your heart. “when i’m sick of human nature, it’s always nice to come back to earth. it’s beautiful.”
jaehyun bobbed his head in agreement. “archie’s over there.” he pointed somewhere along the far end of the creek. “it likes the sun.”
“yeah. sun basking is, like, a turtle’s favorite hobby,” you said, poking your head out to spot the cute baby turtle. you were grinning from ear to ear. 
“what a simple life,” jaehyun said, lightheartedly shaking his head in envy.
you burst into giggles. but that reminded you of one of the many curious thoughts you had about jaehyun, and you figured now was a great time to ask. “hey, i didn’t want to ask this before because i didn’t know how you take it. but you don’t look like the typical guy in motel business.”
from the look on his face, jaehyun was anything but offended. “it’s my parents’ business,” he explained. “i just work here part-time.”
“ah.” you nodded your understanding, finding that a satisfactory answer. but it only made you want to know who jaehyun was when he wasn’t hard at work, donning the family uniform.
then, you remembered what that guy told you about the murders and realized that perhaps jaehyun knew more about if they genuinely existed. 
jaehyun beat you to a word. “by the way, are you going to tell me how old you really are? because adult could mean you’re twenty-four or forty-two.”
you rolled your eyes. he was being funny. “i’m eighteen.”
“damn,” jaehyun said, wincing. “i’m nine years older than you.”
that was totally surprising. “really?”
“you don’t see the wrinkles?” jaehyun asked, pointing to his smooth, wrinkleless face.
god, he was alarmingly handsome. not to mention his skin looked literally poreless. “please. i thought you were twenty-three at the oldest.”
“that’s funny,” jaehyun said with amusement. “i thought you were at least old enough to drink. damn, you carry yourself like you’re older.”
that wasn’t the first time you had heard something along the line of those words, but damn, this guy was pushing thirty?
jaehyun seemed to have sobered a little the next time you glanced at his face, like he was worried about something. “is it weird now?”
“no,” you told him too quickly, maybe because you didn’t want it to be. “not unless you make it weird.”
it seemed like time stopped and the world was no longer spinning for a minute as you and jaehyun gazed into each other’s eyes. and the closer he came to you, your noses nearly brushing, the less you could breathe. “am i making it weird?” he whispered.
you couldn’t speak, so you simply shook your head, gaze lowering to his perfect lips.
everything happened in an instant. one second, you were thinking about how he was perfect from head to toe, and the very next, your heart was soaring as his lips met yours. your eyes fluttered closed, and you felt as if you were being whisked away into a wonderland.
the two of you kissed with heat and passion, overcome with the urge to swallow one another whole, and jaehyun was somewhat surprised by how talented of a kisser you were. the feeling was mutual. you had kissed a handful of boys, but never any with this much finesse.
maybe you had been wanting to kiss jaehyun this whole time, and never knew until you had him.
jaehyun broke away after a moment or two, impressed that you weren’t the first to tap out. something about kissing you was addictive. damn, it made a pretty picture in his head, your arms thrown around his neck and his on your back.
“damn, baby,” jaehyun said, catching his breath. “where’d you learn to kiss like that?”
you peered up at him with a smile, wondering if he somehow got even handsomer in the time your eyes had been closed. “you say i carry myself like i’m older than i am. well, my folks would beg to differ.”
that answer was vague as hell, but jaehyun understood what you meant perfectly. “ah, teenage rebellion? you make out with a lot of guys to piss your parents off?”
“sure, let’s go with that,” you mumbled, still none too keen on disclosing what was officially your old life. then, you caught a glimpse of his lips, and burst into laughter. “you’ve got a little something there.”
“yeah?” jaehyun asked, swiping his thumb over a lipgloss stain that you’d left on the corner of his mouth.
“a little bit to the left,” you told him, trying - and failing miserably - to keep a straight face. “no, my left.”
jaehyun pretended to get annoyed, grumbling, “if i kiss you again, will it matter that i wipe it off?”
at the thought of kissing jaehyun again, your heart skipped a beat or two, but you tried not to show it on your face. “i think that would defeat the purpose.”
jaehyun smiled, and before you knew it, your lips were pressed together again. all you could hear was the obvious wet smacking of your lips, the soft murmuring of the wind, and the quiet rippling of the water.
but you could feel his touch, his hand gingerly falling from the middle of your back to the apex of your thighs. jaehyun pulled away from your lips again, but only to kiss you on your jaw and neck. and everything about it made you feel hot inside out, as if you were scalding.
feeling you tensing beneath his fingertips, jaehyun grinned smugly. he leaned into your ear, whispering, “how about we head up to your room, yeah?”
you were no idiot. it was plain what that meant and a kind of nervous excitement settled in the pit of your stomach like a kaleidoscope of butterflies. “okay,” you replied, letting him take you by the hand.
almost the second you were safely behind closed doors, jaehyun pressed you against the nearest wall and kissed you fiercely. although you were taken by surprise, you returned the kiss with the same amount of fervor, slightly sticking your tongue into his mouth.
mischief curled onto jaehyun’s lips, pleasantly surprised by all the little things you were initiating. his hands slowly wandered down your body for a minute, one hand at your ass and the other cupping your breasts over your shirt. you made a soft breathy noise that had jaehyun scorching with the itch to fuck you, and it only increased tenfold when he noticed your eager hands fumbling with the buckle on his belt.
while your fingers were hard at work, jaehyun’s were too, waiting for the perfect time to slip underneath your shirt. you shuddered when the tips of his fingers brushed against your stiff nipples, whispering jaehyun’s name. 
“come over here,” jaehyun said, leading you over to the bed. 
he gently lowered you down onto the mattress and started to undress you piece by piece in between kisses, pressing his lips against every bit he exposed. it was all you could do to contain your agitation, holding your breath as his face crept lower. 
to keep the more uneasy thoughts out of your head, you focused on jaehyun, asking, “aren’t you on the clock?”
“that’s the thing about working for your parents,” jaehyun said without looking up, giving his undivided attention to your legs as he yanked your skirt off. “what are the odds that they’ll fire their only son?”
“oh,” you said. he did look damn fine in that burgundy uniform, but you would’ve liked to see him without it on.
the more naked you became, jaehyun saw the way you shuddered nervously, and chuckled quietly to himself. “you’ve never done this before.”
he wasn’t asking. that was clear by his tone. it was an astute observation that you couldn’t even deny.
you frowned. “is it obvious?”
“a little bit,” jaehyun replied honestly, smiling at you. “i was a virgin before, too.”
you grinned bashfully. not a second later, your eyes made the mistake of glancing down and getting a eyeful of the imprint of his dick, and you looked away, swallowing the lump in your throat. “i don’t mind kissing assholes, but they say that your body is a temple, and i’ve never met anyone worthy, i guess.”
jaehyun raised a brow and pressed, “until now?”
that made you chuckle. jaehyun was very good at reading in between the lines, like you. “until now,” you repeated. “you’re my first.”
“and hopefully your last,” jaehyun flirted.
the stupidest smile was on your face. it was a foolish thing to hope, all things considered, but it made you feel pined after. “jaehyun, what was your first time like?” you asked.
jaehyun seemed a little grim when he heard your question, but before you could apologize for potentially overstepping, he replied, “it was with someone i had been with for a very long time, and thought i would be with forever.”
there was no doubt in your mind that it had been someone jaehyun loved and lost, and you couldn’t help but feel for him. 
not wanting the mood to shift, jaehyun quickly changed the topic back to you, and everything he wanted to do to you. “trust me,” he said. “i’m going to do everything i can to make sure that even if you go, you never forget me.”
you barely had time to respond before jaehyun tugged your panties away, dragging a pair of fingers through your wet folds. you made a tiny noise as he used them to gauge how wet you were. dissatisfied, he sank to his knees, lips meeting your folds. 
jaehyun darted his tongue out, circling your sensitive clit immediately after. you hadn’t expected the sensation to be so sharp, especially so soon, and you gasped, thighs tensing together. jaehyun got a hold of them and kept them apart as he pleased, making you take every second. 
“jae,” you rasped, unable to get his full name out. 
jaehyun grinned, lips curling against your pussy. damn, you were a sensitive one. if you were reacting like this already, what would you do when he got inside you?
you squirmed as jaehyun continued to go down on you, but it was useless. he was so strong, holding you in place as your body reacted to every single swipe of his tongue against your bundle of nerves. it was too much stimulation and yet jaehyun didn’t seem to be bothered, thriving on your pleasure.
god, every sound you made was a whimper of jaehyun’s name. he couldn’t deny that it made his dick twitch in his underwear, aching to be buried balls deep inside you, but he was holding out for your sake. as badly as he wanted to fuck you senseless, he wanted your first time together to be unforgettable for the right reasons even more.
if he didn’t, what would make him any different from those assholes you let kiss you purely to make some kind of rebellious statement?
jaehyun didn’t want to be a statement, the thing you fell back to after all else had failed. he wanted to be the answer, the one to stitch you back together, the one you crashed into when the tides got high.
you had never felt anything like this before in your entire life. of course, there had been plenty times where you had gotten yourself off, but you had never known pleasure of this magnitude until now. your own hands had nothing on jaehyun’s and his damn skilled mouth.
jaehyun liked how sensitive your body was. it was all too easy to get a reaction out of you, and he was so attracted to how you couldn’t help but respond to every suck and lick, shuddering in his grasp without control.
“jaehyun, i can’t…,” you trailed, fingers desperate to clasp something, to anchor yourself. you would have wound them through his hair, but you were afraid of accidentally hurting him, and settled for the sheets.
“yes, you can,” he said, pulling away from your dripping cunt for a few seconds. “you’re doing good, baby. cum on my tongue.”
it felt as if you were going to burst from the inside and you didn’t really want him to stop, regardless of how incessant the pleasure was. no matter how hard you tried, it was impossible to keep still. you wanted more than you knew your body could handle.
to say nothing of the fact that jaehyun was doing everything in his power to drag you to your breaking point. he knew exactly what to do to have you crying out his name. for a moment or three, he had you convinced that he was everything you ever wanted. now, it was too hard to think.
in a matter of minutes, you were coming undone with a whimper so sharp you were certain your temporary neighbor would come knocking on the door.
“that’s it,” jaehyun crooned with the slyest fucking grin on his face, replacing his tongue with a pair of hefty fingers.
you tried to shove his hand away, the stimulation tearing you to shreds, but jaehyun was keen on breaking you down until you couldn’t be destroyed any further. until he had ruined you for any other man.
your bare chest heaved violently as you fought to catch your breath, blinking a couple times to clear the wet daze of your eyes. there was nothing you could do except silently gawk at jaehyun like he had singlehandedly just stolen your heart.
he finally pulled away, smugly asking, “need a break?”
after a few seconds of gathering your bearings, you rose to your knees and grabbed jaehyun by the back of his head to bring his lips to yours, pulling him down to the creaky mattress beneath you. jaehyun was surprised, but he liked how assertive you were, resting his hands at the back of your legs and letting you sink your weight onto him. 
it was criminal how good of a kisser he was. and if that didn’t already have you dripping, then the way he touched you all over would have. you felt his hard dick against your thigh and couldn’t think of a time where you had wanted anything so badly. 
“take these off,” you said to him when you pulled away from his mouth, tapping his underwear. “and i want to be on top.”
jaehyun snickered in amusement. “whatever she wants,” he said, reaching for his underwear the second you climbed off.
your mouth ran dry the moment you caught a glimpse of jaehyun’s intimidatingly thick length and you were certain that he was going to split you in half. you desperately didn’t want to come off as a shy virgin, but every second that passes made you slightly antsy.
fortunately, there was something to steal your attention away from jaehyun’s impressively large size, and your entire demeanor shifted. “wait, fuck. do you have a condom?”
“close your eyes,” jaehyun said. 
you immediately furrowed your brows, wondering what he was up to. 
noticing your wariness, jaehyun added reassuringly, “five seconds. come on, i won’t do anything weird. i promise.”
reluctance was written all over your face in a large bold font and you had your doubts, but you chose to trust him, watching the back of your eyelids and counting up to five in your head. 
when your eyes fluttered open, jaehyun was grinning like an idiot with a condom between his fingers.
you gawked, astonished. “where’d you get that from so fast - up your ass?”
jaehyun burst into laughter and only said, “a magician never reveals his secrets.”
“give me this,” you said, taking the condom packet out of his hands to tear it open. 
“bossy,” jaehyun mumbled under his breath.
that made you giggle, gingerly placing the condom over the head of his cock, and jaehyun noticed how your bottom lip stuck out when you were heavily concentrated.
you were too enamored with his dick to notice that he was staring at you as though you were the prettiest thing in the whole universe. for some odd reason, the more you looked at it, the less scary it seemed. “it’s actually kind of cute.”
jaehyun wasn’t expecting to hear those words and it completely snapped him out of his little daze. you glanced up at him when you heard him quietly snickering. “you’re something else, you know?” he asked.
“i know,” you replied, having heard many things along the lines of that statement. “you ready?”
it was ironic that you were the one asking him, but jaehyun played along anyway. “show me what you got, baby.”
you moved to straddle him again, raising yourself over his size and grabbing him in your hands to steadily lower yourself. the two of you sighed together in unison as your slick walls clamped around him.
there was one reason why you firmly chose to be on top and that was because you wanted to directly control the pace in case things got to be too much for you. you took your sweet time to sink down deeper and deeper, never too keen on doing too much too fast. in spite of the great lengths jaehyun went to prepare you, it was still a tight fit.
it felt like the wind had been knocked out of you, as if you were choking on your own breaths, and your heart was pounding louder than ever.
“that’s it, baby,” jaehyun said, gathering your soft thighs in his big hands. “is it too big for you?”
you shook your head, having your pride to protect and defend with your entire body. “no, i can take it.”
jaehyun grinned proudly. “i know you can. that’s my girl.”
now that was a sure-fire way to get you hot and bothered. your heart fluttered at the praise and you hid your smile in your elbow, tempted to ride the soul out of him.
you were maybe somewhat impressed by how deep inside of you jaehyun was and definitely plenty aroused. you had feared how far he could go, but now that your cunt was involuntarily tightening around him, gushing around him hotly, it was everything you wanted.
jaehyun was as astonished by you as you were by him, watching you take his cock like a fucking champ. you may have been fighting to let all of him inside, but you were doing a mighty good job, all things considered. there weren’t too many girls he’d had with your determination to ride.
you had finally found a comfortable pace and although there was a little pain, the rapture on your expression was something that you couldn’t deny. you were watching jaehyun watch you, noticing his face tense in a similar manner beneath you. 
and it was to die for. 
“oh my god,” you moaned, hands falling down onto his naked chest. 
jaehyun couldn’t help but think the same thing with how you were gripping him for dear life and he was barely holding it together. to say nothing of the way you were crying out his name again like it was the only word you knew. he couldn’t help but think about how nobody else had ever heard your lips part open to whimper their name. 
and he would be keeping it that way, no matter the measures he had to take to ensure he kept you in his big, strong arms. 
you leaned into jaehyun, pressing your lips to his as you fucked yourself on him. the tiny room was overwhelmed with sound, the bed creaking and your lips locking, and your bodies meeting in a loud wet smack. something about it turned you on more than you thought you were capable. 
jaehyun thought he could watch you on top of him for hours upon hours. his hands wandered to your breasts as you kissed him, tenderly fondling them and brushing his thumbs over your stiff tits. you were riding him into the night like there was no tomorrow, like you had something to prove, and he loved every second of it.
the softest of whimpers escaped your mouth when you pulled back, brushing your hair behind your ears. you couldn’t fathom the ecstasy hanging over you, blindsiding you. maybe it was in your head, but you swore you could feel him in the pit of your stomach, and you didn’t know whether that was normal or not.
jaehyun affectionately gathered your hands in his, holding them as you desperately tried to anchor yourself and make sense of the many things you were feeling at once.
it wasn’t an overstatement to say that you were seeing stars. you and jaehyun were getting each other off, every guttural sound he made taking you to the moon, and every twist your face made sending him crashing into the atmosphere.
you were flush against him, kneading his cock perfectly, and that made jaehyun mumble curses underneath his breath. “goddamn, beautiful. slow down,” he said.
but you didn’t want to slow down the pace, you only wanted to keep the fire burning. you laughed breathlessly and teased, “why? is it too much for you?”
jaehyun chuckled and swore as he closed his eyes, not wanting to admit that you were unraveling him quicker than he’d expected. if this was your first time, why did it feel like you were deflowering him, exposing him to a kind of euphoria that was unlike anything he had felt before. 
he had been intent on dragging things out, but you were making him weak underneath your fingertips. damn, he wanted to thrust his hips up into yours, but he had a feeling you wanted to take the lead, for your own sake. 
“maybe it is,” jaehyun confessed, much to your surprise. “maybe you’re getting me off too fast and it’s hurting my pride.”
“cum, baby,” you whispered sultrily, wanting to see a guy like him fold under pressure. it would be like making a grown man cry. “i want to see it.”
jaehyun sucked in a breath at those words, accepting his fate. you were bringing him closer to the end and there was nothing that he could do about it, even if he wanted to.
you were glistening in coats of sweat from head to toe, and your thighs were starting to ache, but all you had to do was hold on for a little while longer. it was obvious that jaehyun wasn’t far from the finish line, and in truth, neither were you.
it didn’t help that jaehyun was unintentionally imagining things that would get him off sooner. thoughts of you were all that occupied him, picturing how it feel to fuck you raw and hard, holding you squarely beneath him. you were pretty on top of him, but he was enamored with how you had squirmed and cried out underneath him, too.
you had forgotten about everything else in the entire world while you rode jaehyun to the ends of it and back. no part of you thought about your hectic life back home, about the life you’d planned in boston, and everything in between.
the only thing on your mind was jaehyun and in spite of being totally consumed by something, it was the most peaceful your thoughts had been in months.
you could feel jaehyun’s eyes rooted on you and glanced down to meet his gaze, noticing him smiling up at you. when he looked at you like that, he made you feel so wanted. you were naked and bare in front of him, in a literal sense, and he’d accepted every piece of you.
“what are you smiling at, silly?” you asked in between thick breaths. 
“you,” jaehyun replied, like it was obvious. “you’re so damn beautiful, you know. i could fuck you forever.”
not wanting to show how much that had gotten to you, you quipped, “i think i’m the one doing the fucking here.”
jaehyun chuckled, and you thought it was because of what you had said, but he had felt you pulsing around his cock, and he was amused by how easy it was.
the room was getting hotter than ever and it was becoming harder to breathe with the stuffy air. you almost thought that your skin was on fire, and you were scalding on the inside. you were going even harder now, chasing relief.
jaehyun was losing his self-control and he couldn’t help but lift his hips into yours, making you gasp loudly. your head leaned back as you both rocked your hips, desperately trying to finish yourselves.
“jay,” you cried out again, tightening your hold on your hands to ground yourself like you thought you might fly off somewhere.
“i’m right here, darling,” jaehyun crooned, holding your hands firmly. “i’m not going anywhere.”
you nodded your head, trusting him, giving in to him. 
everything after that was almost a blur. the rapture had you lightheaded, and all you remembered was the heat spitting through your core and your toes curling. 
but jaehyun remembered so much more than that. he could picture the exact look on your face that did it for him, unraveling him, sending him cursing at the stars. the tremble that shuddered through his thighs as his cock twitched. he remembered the way your pussy throttled him as you orgasmed, moaning his name. 
when it was over, you collapsed onto his chest, panting and heaving as if you had ran a marathon together. 
neither of you made a move to shift positions for a long while, jaehyun simply admiring the feeling of your bodies sticking together. “are you okay?”
you weakly nodded your head. that word was an understatement, but you didn’t have the strength in your bones to muster a better one yet. few pleasures came close to the kind you were currently reaping the afterhighs of. 
god, you weren’t stupid enough to throw everything away for some boy you’d just met, but he made you want to. 
jaehyun preciously kissed your neck and shoulders. “go to the bathroom,” he whispered. “i’ll go in after you.”
“okay,” you replied obediently, starting to peel yourself off him, until you had a thought. “are you gonna stay?”
jaehyun’s brows furrowed. “do you want me to stay?”
of course, you did. you had just lost your virginity to him in the best way possible, exposed yourself to him in a way no one else had ever seen, including yourself. not only that, but considering you were a young girl in the middle of essentially nowhere, being around a kindhearted, strong guy made you feel safer.
“please,” you said, wanting to be nowhere else but in his arms for the meantime. 
jaehyun smiled and kissed you again, the corner of your mouth this time. “okay, but i have to leave early in the morning. i can’t slack off forever.”
you did the same, throwing your arms around his neck, before bringing your lips to his neck and whispering, “couldn’t you?”
“you drive me insane, woman,” jaehyun groaned, sensing himself getting riled up again. 
you giggled, finally crawling off him and heading towards the bathroom, but not before demanding, “don’t move.”
jaehyun had no place else that he’d rather be, even if he was in some moderately crappy motel that was understaffed and a playground to creeps. you were there, so it might as well have been like home.
when you returned to the room, jaehyun was still there, only he had disposed of the condom now and he was no longer naked. he went in after you, like he said he would, and came back to also find you redressed.
well, sort of. beyond putting back on your bra and panties, your efforts were a little more nonexistent.
“well, now i feel overdressed,” was the first thing jaehyun said when he came back. 
you burst into giggles. “because you are.”
with that, jaehyun stripped down to his undershirt and boxers and came to join you on the bed, melting into your side. he couldn’t help but steal a few more kisses, completely under your spell now. 
the two of you got comfortable. it was clear that jaehyun had no intention of returning to work tonight and had the motel been busier, you would’ve urged him back to his shift. rose creek would be fine without him for a few hours, maybe longer.
you were more important, and jaehyun seemed to think so too, eager to know you better. “so,” he started. “does your family know you’re in connecticut right now?”
you couldn’t help but laugh. “hell no. as far as they know, i just vanished in the middle of the night. i didn’t tell them i was going to boston, either. i probably should’ve picked somewhere down south, or on the west coast, but i don’t think they’d bother looking.”
jaehyun frowned the more he heard your words, displeased by how much strife it seemed you had with your own blood. “why not? disobedient soul or not, you’re still their flesh.”
try telling them that, please, you thought, but didn’t say. “because i’m the black sheep,” you explained. “i’m the child that didn’t want to be a doctor or a lawyer.”
“what do you want to be?” jaehyun asked, pulling you closer. looking at you as if he genuinely wanted to know.
it surprised you, because rarely did you meet anyone who seemed to have cared. “a vet,” you grumbled, feeling stupid.
“now that’s a surprise,” jaehyun replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. and when you smiled an inch, he felt like he was getting somewhere. “but i think it suits you. you’d be a great vet.”
your cheeks were burning. it was embarrassing and heartwarming at the same time to have your aspirations validated for once. it was too strange for you and you said, “i’m talking about myself too much. what about you? you said this was part-time. do you have a full-time job?”
“to be honest, i haven’t really worked a lot since i graduated. my parents own a lot of property in the state and this is just one of them. the others are better, i promise,” jaehyun said.
for some reason, that made a lot of sense. jaehyun seemed a little too extravagant for this sort of environment. “you know, that clears up a lot questions i had about you. but then, why work here instead of someplace better?”
“in case you haven’t noticed, hardly anyone comes out here.”
you snickered to yourself when you realized the appeal of working here for a guy like jaehyun. fewer crowds, fewer interactions, and more excuses to be sleeping around with pretty girls instead of legitimately working.
“but i do work for certain things. i didn’t have everything handed to me,” jaehyun said to clarify. “i’ve been trying to settle down. i know it doesn’t look like it right now, but i have. and i want to give my future family everything.”
that didn’t surprise you either, but it did garner your attention. “oh?”
jaehyun nodded. “yup. my parents have been begging me to bring a girl home for three, four years now. they said that they know i’ll be married someday, but they’re not as confident that they’ll be around to see it.”
considering that jaehyun did come across as slow and steady, for the most part at least, you laughed, because the only reason they weren’t right to be unconfident was jaehyun’s good looks and charming personality. 
you tossed an arm over him, peering into his eyes. “what’s stopping you?”
jaehyun shrugged. if he had it his way, he would’ve brought someone home forever ago, but he’d found that few things went according to plan in his love life. “haven’t found the one, i guess.”
that was fair. you wanted a family too someday, but never in your life had you met somebody that you would let do more than kiss you, until jaehyun. 
“the thing with love is that it’s trial and error,” jaehyun told you, coming from a place of obvious experience. “so many girls i thought were perfect, until they showed me their true colors. and it hurts to cut them loose, but you have to.”
“i wouldn’t know,” you mumbled. “i’ve never been in love.”
jaehyun’s eyes fell down to your gorgeous hand that was resting above his happy trail and smiled to himself. “you will be, i’m sure. i think love is out there for all of us, patiently waiting.”
you furrowed your brows, like those were the last words you expected to here out of his mouth. “so, you’re one of those.”
the look on jaehyun’s face matched yours. “one of what?”
“a hopeless romantic,” you sighed, but there was a smile on your face. 
jaehyun laughed. “i guess you could say that, but i just tell people that i’m ambitious.”
“well, mister ambitious,” you said, stifling a yawn. “i’m sleepy, and you’ve worn me out for one day. promise to tell me more about yourself tomorrow?”
jaehyun nodded, then leaned in to kiss your cheek. “i promise. i get off early tomorrow, so we’ll have more time together. goodnight, baby.”
“goodnight, jaehyun,” you whispered, snuggling into his chest.
like he couldn’t get enough of you, jaehyun gave you one final kiss on your forehead before he turned off the lamp on the nightstand. he had his arms around you, your back flush against his chest, and you stayed that way until night’s end.
it was some of the best sleep you’d gotten in a long time. being in jaehyun’s arms made you feel comfortable, protected. you weren’t certain why, but it was like no harm could reach you there. you were untouchable and you didn’t have to worry about anything.
when you woke up, you were surprised to still find him there, barely awake himself. “you’re still here?” you asked, unexpectant.
jaehyun grinned at you when you turned to rest your head on his chest and replied groggily, “i thought i’d stay to hear your pretty voice one more time before i left.”
you rolled your eyes at his obvious flirting, but there was a huge beaming smile on your face and you were kissing him affectionately merely seconds later.
one thing lead to another. you swore you didn’t know how it happened. slow, sweet kisses were met by languid, intentional touches, until jaehyun was on top of you, fucking every bit of sleepiness out of your body.
the tiniest moans escaped you as jaehyun rocked his hips into you, slow and gentle, and you clung onto his forearms to anchor yourself back down to earth. he was whispering dirty little nothings in your ear, telling you how good you were to him, unraveling by the minute. 
it just felt too good having him inside you, filling you to the hilt and making your bodies seem inseparable. you loved being tangled together, limb to limb, pleasuring each other like there was no other option. it was the first time you had craved someone so desperately. 
you didn’t want to get out of bed when he was gone. you had all the energy in the world, but you were unfathomably sore. somehow, in a good way. you liked feeling the traces of jaehyun in your bones long after he had slipped away. 
deciding not to rot in bed while you waited for him to return, you got up to take a shower and rinse away the scent of sex from your body. it would be a while, anyway. jaehyun had mentioned something about going back to his place for a minute. 
part of you wanted to feel guilty for keeping him overnight, but you couldn’t. not when you knew that he had enjoyed it as much as you had. you wanted jaehyun, and he wanted you. there were no doubts. 
drying off, you noticed that you had used the last towel and you would need more to cover the last two days of your extended stay here. you got dressed and headed down to the main lobby, requesting some from the guy that had been working the desk since you got there. 
you leaned against the wall while you waited, your thoughts naturally wandering off to jaehyun and his handsome face and stupidly adorable dimples. and maybe his unthinkably talented cock, but only for a second or two. maybe three.
it was strange that he had been the only thing you knew your entire time here, and even then, you barely knew him. under different circumstances, you would have wanted to know all there was to know about jaehyun. you would always remember him, even when he was forever gone. 
“those towels you wanted,” said the guy working the desk, snapping you out of your daydream. 
you walked up to the desk, smiling kindly as you accepted them. “thank you. sorry for the inconvenience.”
“it’s fine. have a good day,” he replied, smiling back suspiciously wide. 
you didn’t comment on it, wishing him the same and heading for the door. 
before you could reach it though, you heard his voice again. “by the way, i heard you getting it good when i was making my rounds,” he told you slyly. “how much for the inconvenience?”
dickhead, you thought. your smile dropped and you switched on a dime, shooting him a hefty glare. “i’m not for sale,” you grumbled, storming the fuck out of there. 
god, why were the interactions you had with men at this motel getting increasingly weirder? had not jaehyun been keeping you around, you would have been on the next train to boston days ago. 
you were angry as hell at being propositioned for sex by some random stranger, but you tried to let it go. although you would definitely be ranting to jaehyun about it later. speaking of, on the way back to your room, you noticed the door to one a few rooms down was ajar. 
it was frequented by jaehyun, you’d accidentally noticed. sometimes, you would see him come and go, way too often for any customers to be staying there.
you didn’t mean to pry. you had only gone up to check if he had already arrived, but there was no sight of him anywhere. the one thing that was clear was that he spent a hell of a lot of time here.
there weren’t too many things, considering he didn’t live there, but there were a couple of uneaten snacks sitting on the table. and a purple hair tie that you barely paid any mind to. on the nightstand, there was a framed picture of jaehyun with some girl you’d never seen.
it seemed like they were pretty close, all things considered. he had an arm wound tightly around her, and her head was resting on his shoulder. you weren’t jealous, especially considering he looked nearly a decade younger in the picture, and you instead found it cute that he looked so different and not at the same time. 
given the different trends at the time, his hair was in a completely different style. his cheeks were a little rounder. but he still had the same silly, goofy smile. 
realizing what you were doing was definitely a major invasion of privacy, you scurried out of there with your towels and headed back to your room to restock. 
jaehyun came knocking way too many hours later, but the second you heard, you leapt up, swinging the door open and throwing them around his shoulders. “what took you so long?” you asked sullenly. 
jaehyun was pleasantly surprised by the abrupt display of affection, embracing you. “i decided to get everything done so that i could come straight to you, and didn’t have to leave.”
well, that made sense. when you pulled back, you noticed that he wasn’t in his uniform for a change. “this is my first time seeing you in normal person’s clothes. you look different. good different.”
“thanks, beautiful,” he replied, sticking his hands in his pockets. “may i come in?”
you stepped to the side, letting him enter, and shut the door behind him. 
jaehyun seemed amused when he noticed the television was on, showing some anthropology program he had never watched. “did i interrupt?”
it took you a second to realize what he meant, but when you did, you were all giggles. “no, you’re way more important.”
jaehyun was glad to hear that. “by the way, did you have fun sneaking into my room?”
the sudden accusation startled you, but you didn’t deny what you had done. he somehow clearly already knew that you’d nosed around, and you weren’t one to make excuses nor lie. “that was rude. i should’ve asked for your permission. i’m sorry.”
something about your sincerity made jaehyun smile and wave it off. “it’s fine. i don’t have anything to hide.”
either way, you still felt a little guilty. you wanted to ask him who that girl in the picture was, but you decided that you’d done enough snooping.
noticing the shame on your face, jaehyun beckoned you over, commanding, “come here.” and when you promptly did as told, he smoothed his fingers through your hair and reassured, “i told you, it’s fine. forget about it. now, talk to me.”
you melted into jaehyun’s touch, and forgave yourself, forgetting about what you had done, forgetting about all of the awful parts of your day that were no longer relevant now that you were comfortable in jaehyun’s arms.
minutes turned into hours before you were ready for them to, and you almost couldn’t believe how easily you had made a friend out of jaehyun. he was just so easy to talk to, getting you to confess about your less than happy past and chat about your hopes for the future like you were lifelong buddies.
and to your surprise, he made no attempt to try and sleep with you that night. it seemed that jaehyun was fully intent on getting to know you for the young woman that you were.
every now and then, you got the feeling that he was more into you than it was safe for him to be, and more than you could fathom him being so quickly, and knowing that you would be leaving soon, it crushed you. no part of you wanted to see his face when it was time to say goodbye.
but when you woke up the next day, you were smiling. jaehyun had slipped away, something about having errands to run unrelated to work, and you were counting down the seconds until he would come back. 
it was your last full day together.
the thought saddened and excited you all at once, overwhelming you to the core. you had convinced yourself that although jaehyun had made you feel something nobody else ever had, you would move on the second you got a step closer to bringing your dreams to fruition. but until then, you were a little heartbroken.
you had to be real with yourself for a second. could there be a way for a guy almost a decade older than you to be someone you spent the better half of your life with?
you didn’t think so. you and jaehyun led different lives. and while you hoped he would soon find the girl he had long dreamed of, you knew that she wasn’t you. 
who were you to keep him down, when he could be searching for her?
not to mention you weren’t even ready for such large of a commitment. you wanted to complete school and graduate, eight years of your life at least that you would be hard at work, studying your ass off. jaehyun struck you as the marriage and kids kind of boy, none of which you were prepared for.
he’ll be fine. you’re acting like he’s in love with you or something, you told yourself, sitting on your empty bed. there was no way someone as handsome as jaehyun hadn’t had his fair share of short-term flings.
at some point, you quickly became bored of waiting and decided to go on your phone, which you shockingly hadn’t been giving much attention lately. there were some texts from your friends, the only ones you had mentioned connecticut to, and you promptly messaged them back. 
there weren’t any notifications from your family, but whether that was only because you blocked them or not, you didn’t know. 
then, you opened google and started to search random questions, as you often did when there was nothing more exhilarating to do. you had a couple of questions about toothbrushes, a word your friend had sent that you had never seen before, and finally, the motel itself.
you didn’t know why you hadn’t googled any information about it sooner. most likely because you didn’t think you would be welcomed for so long, but either way, it should’ve been one of the first things you’d done.
out of weary curiosity, you typed the name of the motel into your search engine, and the first thing you saw was a picture of the front exterior.
the next thing you saw, however, was a little more appalling. there was a news article from a little more than a month ago reporting the death of a girl named alyssa gardner.
rose creek, named in memory of rose bellori who was found there after being tragically murdered thirty-eight years ago, suffers another victims, says local police department. twenty-four year old alyssa gardner was found in the creek three weeks after being reported missing. her last known location prior to her murder was rose creek motel, according to her bank statements.
once you read the first sentence, you couldn’t stop, remembering what that old man had told you about the bodies that turned up in the creek. and as you continued to look into the murder, you froze, reading something about how she had last been wearing a purple hair tie.
there had been a purple hair tie in jaehyun’s room, you remembered, because it was on the table beside the snacks. it could have been a coincidence, but although his hair was long enough, you had never seen jaehyun tie up his hair.
now you had to know. there was a picture of alyssa wearing the tie and it was so specific, there was no way you wouldn’t know if they were the same just by looking. but you had no clue how you would get in there. after your invasion yesterday, there was no way jaehyun would reasonably make the mistake of leaving it open again, even if he claimed to have nothing to hide.
you slipped on your shoes, brainstorming on your way to the room, considering jaehyun wouldn’t have been back for a few hours, according to himself. your first thought was the guy at the front desk, but if he did do you a favor, he would want something in return that wasn’t cheap. nor were you selling.
fortunately, another man started to walk by, an employee, judging by his uniform. “excuse me, sir,” you said, donning your most helpless voice. “is there a way you could help me get in this room? i left my key inside by mistake.”
obviously believing you, the man said, “yeah, of course. i have a general key card right here.”
and just that easily, he opened the door for you. 
“thank you so much,” you told him, expressing your gratitude before closing the door to jaehyun’s room behind yourself. 
you felt bad for lying, but your gut was screaming at you right now and you were tempted to trust her now more than ever. you raced to the table, shoving the snack box out of the way, and gawking in horror when you found what you were looking for.
it was the purple hair tie, and not only was it the exact same color and design as you had seen in the picture, but there were traces of hair on it that didn’t match the dark color on jaehyun’s head.
you backed away, the blood freezing over in your veins. the shock was too cruel, too icy, and there were a billion thoughts racing through your mind. 
but at the forefront of them all, you were thinking, i’ve got to get the fuck out of here.
you stepped out of the room, clearing the hallway before you made a beeline for yours, making a call and shoving your things into your suitcase. you weren’t supposed to be leaving until tomorrow, but you figured it was in your best interest to escape before things had the opportunity to go wrong.
there was no time to think about how your judgment could have been so awful, because all you wanted to do was go far, far away from this place, where you would finally be safe from all the things in this world that wanted to hurt you.
the second your belongings were packed, you checked out at the front desk, noticing that the dude from yesterday was strangely no longer there, replaced by a woman you had never seen before. but you didn’t ask questions, didn’t press.
because the second you were free to go, you were dragging your suitcase to the road and praying that uber would get here before jaehyun could.
until you felt something cold pressing into your back, and every bone in your body went stiff. “leaving without saying goodbye?” asked a familiar voice, coming out of nowhere. 
tears began to sting your eyes, fear making your blood run cold. you couldn’t see him, but your whole body knew who it was. “please.”
“let’s take a walk,” jaehyun said nonchalantly, pointing with the hand that wasn’t discreetly holding a gun to your back.
given the circumstances, there was no way in hell that you wouldn’t do as told. you walked to the right of the motel with your suitcase in tow, far out of sight of any cameras that might’ve been privy to your predicament, willing yourself to breathe lest you fell apart then and there.
it had never been more of a struggle to walk, and it was like you had nearly forgotten how to put one foot in front of the other. your brain was hyper aware of the weapon not even an inch away from you.
through your blurry vision, you could make out a car coming into view. jaehyun asked, “do you have your license?” 
you nodded, afraid to speak. 
“good. this suitcase could’ve been you,” jaehyun said, taking the suitcase out of your hands to throw into the trunk. “you’re driving.”
you swallowed the lump in your throat. it terrified you how indifferent jaehyun seemed, walking you over to the driver’s side of the car and opening the door for you, meanwhile you looked as if you had seen a ghost.
only when he got in on the other side did he hand over the keys, still pointing the gun at you and calmly ordering, “drive. i’ll tell you where to go.”
and that was exactly what he did, telling you directions as you made every turn he told you to, not that there were very many.
every second was spent fighting tears and trying to keep your thoughts from racing. you could’ve never seen something like this coming. you had felt so safe, so secure around jaehyun, and now he was threatening you with a weapon.
god, you didn’t even want to think about what he was going to do to you. would he murder you in cold blood like that girl in the news article?
your first thought was to try and coax your way out of it. as if killers listened to logic and reasoning, outside of their own. “jaehyun, you don’t have to do this. you can let me go.”
jaehyun laughed, although you were dead serious. “so that you can go straight to the police? or worse, leave me here by myself?”
“it doesn’t have to be like that,” you whispered. “i like you a lot, jaehyun.”
“i like you a lot, too. that’s why i have to do this, darling.”
“i don’t understand.”
“i know,” jaehyun replied coolly. “it’ll all make sense soon.”
that statement didn’t make you feel any better. instead, you were enveloped by a deep feeling of cold dread, sensing that the worst had yet to come and you needed to brace yourself for the inevitable.
no more than thirty minutes of driving later, jaehyun told you to pull into the driveway of some house along the creek. you wanted to scream when he pulled you out of the car, but the house you were at was isolated from the rest of the world. nobody would have ever heard you even if the cry came from the very tip of your lungs.
but you noticed that he had left his gun in the car. 
you tried to break out of his grasp, but jaehyun was tremendously stronger than you, and he didn’t seem to like your actions much, hissing, “i don’t want to hurt you, but don’t think i won’t.”
no part of you believed that he didn’t want to hurt you, not even for a second. “let me go. i want to go home!”
“no, you don’t,” jaehyun shot back, tightening his clasp on your bicep. “you want to be anywhere but there. don’t act like i haven’t been doing you a favor.”
“don’t act like you know me,” you snapped, still trying to wrest your way out of his hold. 
jaehyun laughed, but it was mirthless. “honey, i do know you. you told me enough about you. i know what you like, and what you don’t like, and how vicious your parents are to you. i know that you don’t ever want to go back home.”
you didn’t know what was worse between being here right now and being home, and that thought made ache spring into your chest ravishingly. 
“i should’ve known you’d find out sooner than i’d hoped,” jaehyun said. “you’re a smart woman, but that’s one of the many things i love about you.”
tears continued to well your eyes, but they were angry now. “let go of me!”
jaehyun began to become exasperated, dragging you over to the edge of the creek, but you didn’t stop demanding to be freed, flailing and thrashing. 
not until you finally exclaimed, “if you’re going to kill me, then kill me already!”
to your surprise, that made jaehyun root in place for a moment or two. “i think you’re confused.”
you were glaring up at him. “wasn’t that your plan?”
for an unsettling amount of time, jaehyun just stared at you emptily. then, he began to laugh heartily, amused to no end. “now why on earth would i want to do that?” he asked.
you said nothing, startled and baffled altogether.
jaehyun smiled at you. the sight warmed your heart no more than a day ago, but now, you were thoroughly unnerved. “baby, you’re perfect. you’re everything i’ve ever wanted. you may be a little younger than i usually go for, but maybe that’s where i went wrong. with you, it’s not too late to fix the little things. like all this resistance.”
nothing could have prepared you for the sudden change in him, for him to throw you to the ground and submerge your head underneath the water of the creek.
it felt and sounded like the whole world had stopped for a moment before the panic started to settle in cruelly, and you inhaled more water than you had been prepared to. your body desperately missed air, and every time it tried to breathe, only more water entered your mouth. 
when jaehyun yanked you back up by your hair, you spat out a load of water, and began to cough. he asked, “learn your lesson?”
you said nothing. you couldn’t at that point. 
jaehyun took it as defiance and lowered your head back underneath the water again, giving you no time to recover from the previous plunge, and your entire body fought against it, but your efforts were in vain. 
and like before, he pulled you up and asked, “learn your lesson?”
“fuck you,” you spat as belligerently as you could between breaths, even though it hurt to talk. 
jaehyun said nothing, throwing your head back down. 
at this point, your lungs were scorching and your nose was burning. your chest was smoldering with pain and panic and everything in between. helpless, your mind was begging for mercy, but the more you prayed for the water to escape, the more you inhaled.
your muscles were screaming for air and you genuinely thought that you were going to die, that this was the end. you would never know the life you had long dreamed of, the life you had risked everything to have, and the one you had always wanted.
it felt like an eternity had passed when jaehyun brought you back up to the surface and asked you again boredly, “learn your lesson?”
you said nothing, spitting out more bursts of water and gasping for breaths that burned your throat.
jaehyun was about to submerge you again, but at the very last second, you blurted, “okay, okay! i’m sorry. i learned my lesson!”
“good,” jaehyun said, pulling you up and dusting his hands off. “let’s go inside.”
you didn’t dare disobey, letting him lead you inside the house, which you assumed he owned. there wasn’t any time to marvel at the sheer beauty of it before he was tugging you downstairs to the basement where there was already a mattress waiting for you. 
whether that had been prepared for you, or leftovers from the last victim, you didn’t want to know.
jaehyun took one look at your flushed, tear-stained face and softened. he brought a finger to your cheek, but you lurched away from him, like a startled animal in a cage. which, to be fair, wasn’t too far from the truth. 
he frowned. “i wish you didn’t have to be so nosy, baby. i didn’t want you to see me any differently than before.”
it’s too late for that, you huffed to yourself. you fell to the ground beside the mattress, hugging your knees.
jaehyun glanced down at you sighing, debating coming over to join you, but decided against it. for now. “but you don’t have to worry anymore. you’re safe with me. nothing can hurt you as long as i’m here. god, i’ve made sure of it. it angered me to no end when i saw that guy in the lobby flirting with you.”
you immediately remembered what had happened in that lobby, something you had been intent to mention to him but forgot, and the blood drained from your face. “what did you do to him?” you asked. 
“what do you think?”
you shook your head. no wonder there had been another person working the front desk earlier. you hugged your knees tighter and cried, “he was just some jerk, jaehyun. you didn’t need to kill him.”
“yes, i did. i would kill anyone who ever dare dreamed of touching you,” jaehyun insisted darkly.
now that you thought about it even harder, there was no reason for jaehyun to even know that that whole ordeal went down in the first place. he hadn’t been there when it happened. you slowly glanced up, asking, “how did you… know?”
jaehyun chuckled. “because i’ve been watching you, silly. how else?”
no shame, no guilt. he seemed proud of himself, grinning from ear to ear. the sight made you sick, but not as sick as it did to know that he had been essentially spying on you in his free time. you remembered, only a few days ago, asking him if the cameras were really functioning.
your stomach churned. that was why he always seemed to know where you were, to always drop into the places you were. that was how he knew you has been in his room, and how he knew you were fleeing.
even though you felt like vomiting the more information you learned, you needed to know the truth. “why did you kill that girl?”
“which one?” jaehyun asked, which made your heart stop in absolute terror. “if you’re talking about alyssa, i found out she was addicted to drugs. god, everything was going so smoothly until all of that.”
if you could’ve convinced yourself that you were only in a nightmare, you would have, but the pain in your chest and throat was too aggressive. “i bet you killed that girl in the picture too,” you replied hoarsely.
jaehyun’s eyes darkened, but it was less anger and more of a morose kind of emotion. “no, that’s not true. she died in a car accident.”
given the pain tensing his features, you believed him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to have any sympathy.
jaehyun continued, “we were eighteen and we had just graduated. she was the girl everyone wanted me to be with, and the one i thought would always be with. then one day, she was just gone. i’ll never forget getting that phone call in the middle of the night.”
the words he used made you remember something. you had asked him what his first time was like, and jaehyun had told you something along the lines of it being with someone he thought he would spend forever with.
that was her, the girl he had loved and lost. 
“i’m sorry you went through that,” you whispered, feeling as though you were obligated to console him in some way. 
“i am, too,” jaehyun mumbled. “but life goes on. and i found you. god, you don’t know how many times i had to go through this to find you, but it’s over now. you remind me of her a lot.”
you froze in your own skin, suddenly having an epiphany. you didn’t understand before, why jaehyun was doing all this, but it was all coming together now.
life may have moved on, but jaehyun had not. instead of getting over the girl he had lost so many years ago, he was trying to recreate her, to get her back in some sick, twisted way. you would be the vessel needed to resuscitate her, and the girls before you were the other candidates that didn’t meet the mark. 
he had told you that. not outright, but it was what he’d meant, and the confession went right over your head. so many girls i thought were perfect, until they showed me their true colors. and it hurts to cut them loose, but you have to.
jaehyun wasn’t killing girls out of some sadistic hatred. matter of fact, he didn’t even want to kill them, but he felt obligated to eliminate the unworthy. he was killing because they ultimately didn’t meet his standards.
which implied that someway, somehow, you did. as he put it, you were everything he’d ever wanted. 
“why me?” you asked, rubbing your eyes clear of tears.
jaehyun at last approached you, and although you wanted to back away and hide, there was nowhere for you to go. “easy. from what you’ve told me, you’re the black sheep of your family. you didn’t even tell them where you were going. nobody is going to look for you. nobody will miss you. you’re perfect.”
those words were crueler than he intended for them to be, but jaehyun wanted to be truthful with you, because that was the key to a long-lasting relationship. he wouldn’t hide from you, and he wouldn’t allow you to hide from him. you would be perfectly honest with each other.
“we’re going to have kids together someday,” jaehyun rambled, holding your cheeks in his hands gingerly, almost with affection. “i’m going to take you to meet my parents, and they’re going to love you, because i love you. and we’re going to stay in this house.”
you glanced around. “here?”
jaehyun sported a beaming smile. “it’s perfect, isn’t it? you love nature, and we’ll live right here along the creek. it’ll be just like how you grew up, except you’ll be accepted here.”
perfect, you repeated in your head bitterly. jaehyun seemed to be as obsessed with that word as he was with you. he couldn’t stop saying it, and that revealed even more about his intentions the more he used it.
noticing the tension in your face, jaehyun squeezed your hand and tried to console you. “don’t worry, i’m not going to keep you from your dreams. but you’re going to stay in this basement until you understand that you belong to me, and i belong to you.”
“i’m not your fucking property,” you hissed with unadulterated vitriol.
obviously, jaehyun was growing exhausted of having to put up with your less than meek behavior, and before you could apologize, he hauled you up and tossed you onto the bed. you made a tiny, broken noise when he began to squeeze your throat instead. “i will whip you into shape if i have to,” jaehyun growled. “i will fuck you into shape, everyday, if that’s what it takes, dear. i already made up my mind. you’re mine and i won’t let anyone else have you.”
your throat still ached from the pain of nearly drowning three times over, sorely pleading for quiet remorse, but jaehyun was nothing short of committed. he would stop at nothing to bend you into submission, no matter the price needed, because when he wanted something enough, there was nobody that could tell him that it wasn’t his for the reaping.
not his parents, not you, not anyone.
true to his word, jaehyun began to force one his hands underneath your pleaded skirt. he liked that you wore them, initially because he found them strangely cute on you, but now because of the easy access he had to everything he wanted.
you thrashed again enervatedly, sore from head to toe, but you told yourself endlessly that you weren’t a quitter. you couldn’t let him break you, not until he had broken all the fight out of you first. it would go against everything you stood for, everything you believed.
“behave,” jaehyun said. “behave, or you’ll only make it worse on yourself.”
you roared expletives into his palm that jaehyun couldn’t understand, nor did he bother to. not after he had caught a glimpse of your precious cunt and he had already begun to imagine making sweet love to you. the lingering picture was all he could think of.
how you had gripped his biceps, brows tensing together, calling out his name and his name only. jaehyun knew you reciprocated his pining. he had seen the proof, felt it dripping and pulsing around his cock, milking his release out of him even quicker than he had hoped.
and really, honestly, jaehyun didn’t want to hurt you or cause you any needless pain. one day, you would understand that he was only doing this from of a place of love and endearment. you gasped for breath when the hand on your throat finally slackened, sucking in the sharpest one you had ever inhaled, and could feel the basement reeling.
while you were busy blinking the misty daze out of your eyes, jaehyun ran a hand between your legs, touching your clit. “jaehyun, stop,” you rasped. 
“shh, let me make you feel good,” jaehyun crooned softly in your ear. 
it was maddening that your body still reacted fondly to his deep voice and tender touches, and you hated every second of it. you resisted him, pressing your thighs together, but it took little to nothing for jaehyun to spread them apart again, and your body naturally liked his strength, too. 
still, you tried to swat his hand away. now that you knew the truth of who he was really was, what he really was, you couldn’t stand to let a monster like jaehyun to touch you. 
jaehyun sighed irritably, and the look on his face made you shudder. “you’re just going to keep being a bitch about it, aren’t you?”
he only wanted to pleasure you, for fuck’s sake. why wouldn’t you let him?
“i don’t want this,” you whimpered, peering up at jaehyun as you welled up with tears. 
“yes, you do,” jaehyun told you, as if he was trying to convince you of something you already knew wasn’t true. “you do want it. remember?”
you shook your head, defiant. “that was before. it’s different now.”
“nothing has changed between us.” 
“everything has changed!” you cried out, bursting into sobs. “you’re not who i thought you were. you… hurt me.”
“i didn’t want to. i promise that i didn’t, honey,” jaehyun whispered, pressing his lips to your forehead. “and the sooner you listen to me, the sooner i can make you feel better.”
he started to do exactly that, returning between your legs, this time sticking his face beneath your skirt. jaehyun went to town, pulling out all the stops that he remembered had you singing his praises. 
not a moment later, you slumped in defeat, too weak from your unwanted orgasm to deny him any longer. jaehyun smirked when he noticed you twitching from the aftershocks, licking his wet lips that had gotten soaked with your arousal.
“that’s it, baby,” jaehyun said, proud of himself. he liked worshiping you, and even if you didn’t want to admit it, he knew he brought you to elysian heights. “ready to take my cock?”
you shook your head wearily, but jaehyun didn’t believe you. only the day before yesterday, you had been so eager.
“come on, don’t be that way. you know you love this dick,” jaehyun said. he had never looked more sure of himself, not hesitating to step out of his clothes.
although you wanted nothing more than to defy him, to spring up and make a beeline for the nearest door, you couldn’t bring yourself to. there wasn’t even time for you to tell him to stop before jaehyun was spreading you open, prodding your entrance with the head of his cock.
and you were so wet that in spite of his size, he slipped inside with ease.
jaehyun grunted at the first push of his cock inside you, slowly coaxing his way deeper. he slipped his fingers through yours, knowing that you liked to use his hand to anchor yourself because you quickly got overwhelmed by his size.
but he noticed that each time you were taking him even better, and jaehyun liked the thought of successfully breaking you in. to him, it was the perfect fit. it was a sign that you were made for him to fuck and breed. your vice-like walls were gushing around him, kneading him, swallowing him whole. only him.
“that’s good, baby. don’t run from it,” jaehyun crooned in your ears before sealing your lips together.
jaehyun didn’t notice that you weren’t kissing him back. when his eyes were closed and he was buried some inches deep inside your pussy, it became easier to convince himself anything. because you may have denied him, but jaehyun thought the body never lied, and yours was calling out to him. 
the weight of your body rocked in tandem with his thrusts and jaehyun, wanting a better view of you, started to tug your shirt off. he already knew how to make you weak for him, sucking at your breasts.
every cry of protest you made fell on deaf ears, because all jaehyun heard was that familiar breathlessness in your voice when he was making you feel good. 
and that was more than enough to jaehyun. because if he had you, and you had him, nothing else mattered. why would you need some other guy in some faraway place when he had made you feel things you never knew you were even capable of?
he never even thought about how of those feelings he had plucked out of you, something could’ve completely overpowered any pleasant feelings you ever had.
it surprised you when jaehyun grinded to a halt and pulled out of you, but you should’ve known better than to think he was finished. “get on top of me,” jaehyun told you, overcome by memories. “i want you to ride me. like how you rode me that day.”
jaehyun had this dazed look in his eyes that made him look more dangerous and unhinged than he ever had, and that was the sole reason you were so quick to scramble on top of him, but jaehyun smiled, because he only saw it as unadulterated desire.
you grabbed his shoulders as you forced yourself to mount him, his hands slipping down to your backside, supporting you with his palms. it hadn’t been too long since they were someplace you could feel secure for the first time in a long while. and now that comfort was gone, and you had nowhere else to go, nothing else to turn to but yourself.
maybe you had been naive to think that someone could genuinely, truthfully like you. whatever jaehyun felt for you, or at least thought that he did, was purebred obsession and without it there would be nothing left. 
it was the one thing keeping you breathing, and yet the one thing killing you slowly.
something wet dripped onto the pillar of jaehyun’s shoulder and he saw that you were sobbing. tears of pleasure, he told himself. he remembered the wet glaze in your stare when the two of you had fucked the other day, too. nothing as theatrical as this, though he was certain it didn’t make a difference. 
but jaehyun wasn’t afraid to hurt you, that much was clear. he may not have particularly liked it anymore than you did, but he would use it to justify everything. it’s okay if it hurts, because love hurts, he would console himself, telling himself that you would be okay.
“one day you’ll understand that i’m doing this because i want what’s best for us,” jaehyun whispered, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “i’ll make you happy every day until you die. anything you could ever want, i’ll make it happen, i promise.”
the way he spoke, you knew that he believed it in his very bones, and that only made it scarier. someway, somehow, jaehyun had convinced himself that you were god walking, and now you weren’t sure what lengths he wouldn’t go to for your sake. 
tenderly kissing your jaw, jaehyun continued, “i love you.”
you shook your head, knowing that it wasn’t true. “you can’t love me, jaehyun. it’s only been five days.”
jaehyun disagreed. he thought he had loved you from the second he laid eyes on you, a beautiful girl ambling along the creek line. he could smell your sweet scent on him and it made him remember catching you in his arms, pulling you close, and breathing you in for the first time. “i loved you long before i met you. you may not feel it right now, but you will soon. i’ll make sure of it.”
you exhaled a breath. there was no arguing with a mad man.
“i’ll make sure you’ll never want to live without me again,” jaehyun whispered, like it was the most normal thing in the world. “that you can’t live without me.”
all you wanted was to get away from him. you were wishing you would’ve never came here, never gave him or this godforsaken place the time of day.
jaehyun was nearing the threshold of what he could take and it was plain on his face. you weren’t fucking yourself on him with the same amount of fervor as you had in the none too distant past, but he was too close to the edge to complain, driving his hips upwards into yours.
he was no longer listening to the pleas falling from between your lips, imagining that you were begging for him never to stop, never to let go of you. because he knew that deep down, that was what you wanted. you would get over these temporary, tiny frustrations. the same way he had gotten over them over and over.
did you think it was all fun and games for him? if you knew how many times he had been crushed and disappointed, how many times he had to let of something he wanted more than anything, you would finally understand that there nobody who understood you more than jaehyun.
in a way, you were completing each other. he would give you the family you needed, and you would give him the relationship he always wanted.
“jaehyun, you have to pull out,” you said to him, remembering he had gone in without a condom. “you have to…”
“shh,” jaehyun shushed you, pressing your back to the mattress again, and seizing control.
when you tried to speak, jaehyun just clamped his hand over your mouth to keep you silent and pliant, wanting to hear none of it. “didn’t i tell you? we’re going to build a family together, right here in this house.”
there was total, chaotic horror in your eyes. you hadn’t thought he meant so soon, so quickly. you were barely an adult and still sometimes felt like a child yourself, and you tried to tell him as much, but every word bled together and died on his palm.
with a few more unrelenting smacks of his hips into yours, jaehyun leaned over and clamped his teeth into your shoulder as he came. and when he stilled, he kissed you, ignoring the taste of tears that had ran onto your lips.
“it’ll always be you and me now,” he panted, breathless. “you can’t leave me. you can’t.”
you lay there, helpless and hopeless, feeling something like bile scorching up your throat as you stared at him in disbelief.
“i’ll fuck you every day, i will,” jaehyun said with every bit of conviction. “if it means that one of those days, i put a baby in you.”
there was nothing that you could say that your face wasn’t already saying for you. never in your life had you felt more used and violated, and that said a lot. 
and jaehyun didn’t seem to be bothered. he lay down beside your shaking body, tightening his arms around you, loving the way the layers of sweat made you stick to each other, and made you a dirty promise. “don’t worry, i’ll take care of you both,” he said. “i swear.”
you closed your eyes, screaming inside your head, but having none of the strength to really do it. he had stolen it from you, stolen everything from you. your body wasn’t your own anymore.
“say it,” jaehyun prompted, nibbling gently at your neck. “say you love me.”
you didn’t, and there wasn’t a single bone in your body that did, but jaehyun terrified you now. this would haunt you more than the gun pressed to your back, or the throwing your head underwater. compared to now, those things seemed mild.
so you sucked in a breath, trying to will yourself to stay still even though there was no possible way with how close he was to you, and you lied, “i love you.”
jaehyun grinned from ear to ear. “i know.”
2K notes · View notes
jamminvroomvroom · 7 months ago
Note
Hey girlll I love your blog so so so much! Congrats on the 4k bc you absolutely deserve it🫶🏼
I just had a little angsty request for Charles lando or Oscar (you can pick any you’re feeling more atm, I eat up anything ab my boys)
I saw this prompt maybe you could use - - "I can be there when you need me!" "But I did, and you weren't."
late night talking.
op x fem norris!reader
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
in which lando’s little sister has been sneaking around with his teammate, but it’s starting to have its challenges…
hiiiii thank u sm anon! love this request love you MWAH! so appreciative of this request and all of the others and that y’all trust me to bring your ideas to life!! i hope this hits the way you wanted it to! let me know what you think, big love 🤍
songs to set the mood: late night talking by harry styles, i love you by billie eilish, over my head by james marriott, if these walls could talk by 5sos
warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, angst, fluff, a bit of hurt/comfort, secret relationship, brothers teammate trope (r is lando’s sister), fingering, morning sex, angsty needy sex, lando being an embarrassing little shit
4.1k words
sex and talking. sex and talking. sex and talking.
that’s what you do, oscar and you.
you watch him all weekend, eyes trailing his lean frame, the way his body moves under papaya fabric. then, when your brother finally leaves you alone, you sneak into oscar’s arms, room, bed, whatever’s closest.
you have your way with one another, nothing untouched, unexplored, and then you talk and talk until your lips hurt from stretched out grins and a satisfying ache sets into your spent limbs. you sneak out when the sun comes up the next day and join lando for breakfast in whatever hotel you’re in that weekend.
rinse, repeat.
you can remember the first time you saw him in real life, way back in early 2023, clear as day. you were in bahrain with your brother for testing, the sun in your eyes, and there he was. awkward, stocky, hands buried deep in his mclaren administered slacks. he was littered with moles, mousey brown hair catching the rays of light, chocolate eyes conveying cool confidence that didn’t at all match up with his uncomfortable stance. you could kiss over those moles like a game of dot to dot, tug on his strands that looked like smooth chocolate frosting, sink into his brown irises until you drowned.
lando had caught you staring, sending his elbow into your ribs, and when you turned to glare at him, cuss him out, you saw a look of warning. his eyes said: don’t you fucking dare.
and you didn’t dare, not for a while at least.
-
“o-osc.” you whine, panting through the waves of eye-watering pleasure.
he’s got you laid out across his massage table, two fingers scissoring into your sodden cunt as his thumb bumps your clit in messy circles.
it’s rare that you sneak away so brazenly like this during a race weekend.
“you gotta be quiet.” oscar shushes you, eyes flitting between your own watery pair and his fingers where they’re working you open.
“trying.” you breathe, slapping your own hand over your mouth when your belly tightens one last time. one wrong move and the entirety of the hospitality suite will know. lando will know. perhaps all of china will know. that’s how good he fucking feels.
you sob into your palm, bucking your hips wildly as you fall apart, spilling all around his relentless fingers. he fucks you through it, grinning coyly as your muffled cries subside.
“c’mere.” oscar lulls, pulling you back towards him. he kisses you deeply, smiling against your lips.
“i should go.” you mumble, pushing his hair back and raking your fingers through his hair.
oscar nods apathetically, reserved all of the sudden. you frown, stealing another quick kiss. you stumble to your feet fixing your underwear and your skirt, and grab your bag from the small sofa.
“we need to be more careful.” his words make your blood run cold.
“more careful?”
you sneak in and out of hotel rooms under the cover of night, you have his name disguised in your phone, you never speak to him in public.
“this was risky.” oscar shrugs. he looks antsy, his entire demeanour changing in a matter of minutes, the ecstasy of watching you writhe all for him worn off.
“this- i- you’re the one who dragged me in here, piastri.” you accuse. ‘piastri’ is reserved for when you’re pissed off, a cagey step back from the affection ‘osc’ that you usually called him. “whatever, i’ve got to go.”
“i’ll see you later?” he poses it as a question, uncertain that you’ll show. he has never been uncertain before, not with you, not with a lot of things. bile rises in your throat, and you scoff.
you can’t reply. the door slams behind you.
-
“where’ve you been?” lando ruffles your hair, a single eyebrow raised suspiciously.
“got bored with watching you look at data so i went for a walk.” you reply nonchalantly, pushing his hand away.
he hums in response, nodding slowly. it’s like he doesn’t quite believe you but he quickly moves on.
“you coming out with us after the race tomorrow?” lando asks.
“depends on who ‘us’ is.” you reply curtly. you don’t wanna look at oscar’s stupid, handsome face for a second longer than you have to. a familiar sadness sinks into your bones.
“couple of the drivers, alex, carlos, oh and oscar might even be swayed.” you grit your teeth, suddenly frustrated. “anyway, since when do you have beef with drivers? little miss sunshine fallen out with someone?” lando sounds confused, accusatory.
you stay silent, walking into the back of the garage, praying someone will come and steal your brother away.
“hey, you gonna tell me what the problem i-?”
“lando, we need you to look at this.” your brother gets cut off by a frantic engineer, your prayers answered, and is quickly lost to the chaos of the garage.
a pair of warm eyes burn into the side of your head. you turn to see oscar watching you, his eyebrows furrowed as if he’s studying you. he’s fidgeting, playing with his fingers, something strange for the man as cool as a cucumber. you look away as quickly as you can, managing to tear your eyes away from him, a lump forming in your throat which you swallow down.
it’s painful, really. sex and talking, it’s not enough, never has been for even a second. oscar piastri, australian f1 driver, number 81, quickly became your oscar, somewhat against your will.
-
somewhere in hungary, about 8 months ago
“are we really doing this, piastri?” you giggle, throwing your head back as his lips work your neck.
“need you.” he groans into your skin, low and needy. you’ve never heard him sound so disheveled, so desperate, a far cry from his usual, monotonous self.
“want you, osc.” you pant when his lips find your sweet spot, the feeling of him so delicious on your body.
“have me.” he whispers, falling into bed with you in his lap.
you lay there basking in stunned silence afterwards, a layer of sweat coating your knackered body. your shoulder is pressed flush with oscar’s, not an inch of space between you while you both stare at the ceiling, sporting matching lazy grins.
“i can’t believe we did that.” oscar mutters, a layer of disbelief in his voice.
“i think we should do it again.” you tease, except you are deadly serious.
“agreed.” he breathes.
“this stays between us, right?” you whisper, shyly.
“always.”
-
always makes your skin crawl now. you’re sick of having him in the dark, of having to avoid him in public for fear of turning into a lovesick fool. it’s embarrassing, really, unrequited love.
you can barely follow qualifying, staring blankly at the empty space in the garage where oscar’s car resides. you manage to catch the radio message through the headset you have on, the one where oscar’s muttering about a stupid mistake that’s just knocked him out. he’s limping back to the pits, licking his wounds.
you feel a pang in your chest, sympathetic and disappointed for him. you wonder what his mistake was, where his mind was. you’ll wait for the right moment, swallow the ache in your heart and your pride, and you’ll comfort him. he gets led away by frustrated engineers immediately, studying lines of data with furrowed eyebrows. you watch from afar, but then your heart sinks to your feet when four words sound through your headphones.
“lando, are you okay?”
will sounds stressed, repeating the four words that make your world stop spinning on its axis. everyone in the garage is staring at the tv screen, breaths held, stomachs tight.
your brothers car sits in tatters, carbon fibre littering the track. you can see the fluorescents of his helmet burrowed in the cockpit, still. your mouth hangs open, one hand clutching your chest, the other covering your quivering lips. you’re numb.
that feeling returns, the one of eyes burning into your weathered features. your wide eyes flit to the australian boy watching you from across the garage, and you beg silently for him to just come to you, pull you close, tell you that lando is okay and that he loves you back.
and lando is okay, his winded voice reassuring you over the radio.
but you stand there alone.
just like always.
-
somewhere in brazil, about 5 months ago
“what’s your favourite colour?” oscar mumbles lazily, lips bumping your cheekbone.
you’re curled up on his lap watching the sunset from his balcony. he was well behind lando after qualifying, and he’d craved a moment alone with you all day.
the air was thick, humid, the hot orange sun sinking far off in the horizon. you turn to face him, his features illuminated by the hazy glow. the sunlight makes his chocolate eyes sparkle warmly, so pretty.
“brown.” you whisper, scanning his face.
he laughs lowly, his chest rumbling.
“brown?” he questions teasingly.
“yep.” you grin, pecking his lips softly.
“why?”
“go look at those pretty eyes of yours in the mirror.” you retort smoothly, threading your fingers through his shower-damp strands.
“you flirting with me?”
“you bet i am.”
you twist back around, facing the view once more, moulding into his body. he kisses over your shoulder, resting his chin. you stay there content until the sun is gone and the stars twinkle.
-
the air in the room is thick, awkwardly silent.
he stands leaning against the desk, opposite where you sit on your bed. the lights are low in your hotel room, the imprint of your body still fresh against the mattress. you’d been crying when he knocked, eyes rimmed red, skin flushed raw.
“you just stood there.” you croak.
“love, i-“
“don’t call me that. please.”
hurt flashes across his features, but like he knows it’s not fair of him to complain, he buries it immediately.
“i just… will you hear me out?” oscar pleads quietly.
you nod feebly.
“it’s impossible. this, us. i wanted to go to you but i- i couldn’t, i didn’t know how that would look and i didn’t want to jeopardise this.”
“but you did.” you whisper. his face shatters, falling fast.
“no, no, i can be there when you need me-“
“but you weren’t!” you cry, your body physically sinking, your shoulders drooping.
“i can fix this, i will.”
“i think we need to stop this, osc. it’s too painful for me. i’ve tried to move past the hurt but after today…” your voice shakes and you crumble, the first tear falling.
“i’m not trying to hurt you.” he crosses the space between you in two rushed steps, collapsing to his knees before you.
“that’s not good enough.” you bite back. “i’m not going to be some guys dirty little secret. i won’t do it anymore oscar.”
“i was trying to protect you… this.” he gestures between you desperately
“i know, oscar. i know! but i never asked you to do that. i can’t love you in a hotel room for the rest of my life.” the words slip from your tongue, abrasive and messy, before your brain can catch up.
you grimace, biting your tongue, but oscar’s reaction couldn’t be further from your own. his watery eyes widen, pink lips pulling into a boyish grin.
“i don’t want to love you in a hotel room for the rest of my life either.” oscar whispers, tentatively taking your hands. you stare down at your slowly intertwining fingers, a familiar warmth oozing through your body. “i wanna love you everywhere.”
“show me.” you murmur through shaky breath.
“i will.” he leans in, leaning in to kiss your shoulder. “for as long as you let me, i will.”
“just come here.” your fingers find the hairs at the nape of his neck, pulling him into a kiss, one born of frustration, and longing, and a year of late night talking about everything except how much you love each other.
oscar pushes you back onto the bed, crawling over you, starving. you pull him flush against you, leaving no room between your bodies. you crave the feel of his entire weight pressing you into the mattress and as he does, you feel at home. when you pull apart, catching your breaths, he says it properly, for the first time, and the world gets lighter.
“i love you.” oscar cups your jaw, those chocolate eyes boring into yours, the intensity of it knocking you for six. “always.” he adds.
the meaning of the word changes. always doesn’t mean a shameful, taboo secret anymore. life is breathed into the six lettered word; always means you and him, together, finally out of the shadows.
“i love you, osc.” you whisper.
he’s smiling when he kisses you again, unbuttoning your blouse like he’ll die if he doesn’t get the offending item off of your frame. you retaliate by shoving his t-shirt up his back, tugging greedily at it to strip him bare. the material comes off easily and as he sits up to throw it away, you shrug off your blouse and it meets his shirt on the floor. his hands smooth over your curves, brushing the pudge of your belly as he finds the zip of your skirt, ruining the fasten in his state of haste. you barely notice the way he’s ruined the item of clothing, urgently unbuttoning his jeans. your underwear is gone too, nothing separating you but your bra, restless hands on heated skin.
“we need to be quiet.” you breathe. “lando’s next door.” oscar giggles, tinged pink.
“get on top, love.” he drawls, flipping onto his back and taking you with him.
he sits up with you in his lap, nothing anchoring either of you in the middle of the bed. the imprint of your devastated form is gone, replaced by the shape of him. you can feel the head of his cock nudging through your folds, slicking him up so that he can slide nice and deep. he trails his fingers between your legs, thumbing at your clit in deft circles, just the way he knows you like it. you’re mewling in his lap, grinding down on the pad of his thumb; it’s so good but it’s not enough.
“please, osc.” you pant, urging him to let you sink down on his cock. you can see how red it is, feel the way it throbs for you, and the need to be full of him is almost paralysing.
“come on, pretty girl. fill yourself up.” oscar mutters against the shell of your ear.
he kisses down your throat as you slide down on him, dropping your hips firm against his.
“fuck.” you cry, your forehead falling against his shoulder.
“you okay, sweetheart? feel so good for me.” oscar coos, his fingertips digging hard into your hips.
“so good, baby.” your head rolls back, feeling him hit that spot tucked away within your walls.
your breaths mingle, your breasts flush against his chest, and as if he realises that he never stripped you of your pesky bra, he grunts, unclasping the black lace and flinging it somewhere far away. he gently mumbles an awestruck “fuck”, as if he hasn’t seen your tits a million and one times before, and latches onto your nipple. his tongue works in slow circles, matching the pace of your hips working languidly on his cock, and you keen further into his body.
“prettiest girl for me.” oscar grits out, his eyes squeezing shut when you clamp down on him, hard.
you’re both trying so hard to be quiet, overwhelmed by touch and taste, love. you’re growing tired, hurtling towards a desperate release, and oscar can sense it, the feel of your quivering thighs tightening around his hips spurring him on. he grinds up into you, maintaining your pace, but he’s fucking you harder now, the anticipation of your release sending shivers down his spine.
“you gonna cum for me?” oscar grunts, holding your hips down against him. you can’t move, his hold too tight and your body too tired, all you can do is wait for your orgasm to hit like a ton of bricks. you nod frantically.
“yes, oscar, please baby.” you beg for it, and like the true gentleman he is, the calloused pad of his pointer finger finds its home on your clit, sending you into an upwards spiral.
it’s as if you’re levitating when you let go, in a dreamlike state, your teeth sinking hard into his pale shoulder to muffle a surefire whine of his name. he’s rutting into you, prolonging the bliss.
“cum inside of me.” you urge, voice barely above a whisper. well, you’ve certainly never done this before.
oscar’s eyes roll into the back of his head, tears pricking his lash line. a guttural gasp of your name spills from his lips when he lets go, painting your insides warm and white. you stare at the tiny indents your teeth had left on his thick shoulder, his breath hitting the crook of your neck warm and wet as he comes down.
“‘m yours, and i’m here. i’m always gonna be here, i promise.” oscar speaks so quietly that you wonder if you’ve imagined it.
-
“when i made that mistake today, i was thinking about you.”
you’ve been laying there in silence for a while now, tucked under his arm when he speaks. you turn to look at him, perplexed.
“what?”
“i felt so awful about what i said after we, you know. you looked so upset with me, and i don’t blame you.” oscar sighs.
“i just don’t want to feel like a shameful secret, osc.” you tell him quietly, the words heavy on your tongue.
“you won’t, not anymore. ‘m so sorry, sweetheart.” he lulls, kissing over your hairline.
“how do we make this work? and how are we ever gonna explain this to-“
“lando.” oscar cuts you off, shifting uncomfortable. “he’s going to murder me and my entire bloodline.” he chuckles nervously.
“he won’t murder you. he might put you in a gravel trap, though.” you roll onto your side, smiling teasingly up at him and he rolls his eyes.
“i’ll take the heat. you’re worth it.”
-
“promise me.” you pant, his hips grinding into you. you’re curled into his chest, still spooning and barely awake. he’d woken up needy, and you were even needier, the faint glow of early morning sunshine washing over you through a crack in the beige curtains.
“anything.” oscar stutters, his breath warm against the back of your neck. his nose bumps your skin, teeth scraping the shell of your ear.
you stop meeting his thrusts. he whines low, wordlessly pleading for you to resume. he ruts his hips against your ass, chasing friction.
“tell me it’s all gonna be different now.”
“i already told you, i-“ oscar grunts.
“promise me.” you purposely clamp down on him, a hiss sounding from between his gritted teeth.
“promise, i promise, i love you.”
you giggle, rocking your hips again, fucking yourself onto him once more.
“i know.”
“you gonna let me off the hook?” oscar pants in your ear, tugging on your earlobe with his teeth.
“still gotta prove yourself, piastri.” you moan.
he feels deeper like this and he knows it, revelling in the way he’s filled you up so perfectly. he rolls into you slowly, sliding against each and every spot that makes you squirm. you drop your guard, going limp in his arms to let him finish you off.
“you nearly there, sweetheart? you gonna cum for me, love?” his accents thickens in the mornings, husky and intoxicating. you fall apart, then, and he stays buried inside of you, the only sounds in the room your matching heavy breathing.
“i need you to get dressed.” oscar kisses your cheek.
“kicking me out already?” you feign offence, looking at him over your shoulder.
his fingers come to cup your chin, his forehead resting against yours.
“there’s something we gotta do.”
-
you’re wearing your skirt from the day before, the waistband rolled over to make up for the oscar-destroyed zipper. his hoodie that you’ve stolen almost completely covers the short skirt, and your messy hair and poorly removed makeup don’t do much to convince anyone that you’d actually slept in your own room last night.
still rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you don’t really comprehend where oscar is leading you, but when the elevator dings, signalling that you’ve reached the restaurant floor, you’re suddenly painfully awake. time seems to move in slow motion, your tummy twisting as you realise what’s about to happen.
ahead of you, tucked into the corner of the restaurant is your brother, jon, and ashley. lando is already draped in team kit, the papaya of his hoodie blaring obnoxiously for once, a warning sign.
“oscar, what-“
“i’m doing this.” he affirms, speeding up his stride.
oh my god oh my god oh my fucking god.
your heart speeds up, dropping to the pit in your belly when lando notices you, eyebrows furrowed, jaw clenched, eyes taking in the bewildering sight before him. his baby sister, disheveled and wide-eyed, and his teammate holding her hand, on a mission.
“what the fuck am i looking at?” lando doesn’t sound angry, per say, more perplexed than anything. there is an edge to his voice that you don’t particularly like, but he hasn’t started swinging yet, you suppose.
“i’m in love with your sister. like, for real. you deserve to know that.” oscar says confidently, somewhat monotonously.
lando opens his mouth, closes it. opens it again, closes it. he repeats the process a few more times, going through the motions of an emotional rollercoaster.
but then, he sighs deeply, a grin of disbelief stretching across his face. jon bangs on the table excitedly, and ash is shaking his head.
“you owe us so much money.” jon laughs, his head tipping back.
“pay up, boss.” ash sticks his hand out expectantly, smirking across the table.
“what… what?” you exclaim, narrowing your eyes in confusion.
“i didn’t wanna believe them.” lando shrugs.
“don’t blame you.” oscar chimes in, and you stare between the two mclaren drivers in bewilderment.
“are you okay with this?” you question, staring your brother in the eyes, still a bit disoriented by the entire situation. his face softens, a genuine smile lingering small on his lips.
“if you’re happy, i’ll make my peace with it.” lando’s eyes flit between you and oscar.
all of the sudden, a look of horror crosses his face, and his voice turns stern.
“but,” he inhales shakily. “if i ever, ever, hear again what i think i heard last night,” he glares at oscar, pointing one firm finger at the australian, who stands up a bit straighter. “you’re dead, piastri.”
jon and ash bite back giggles at the empty threat, and you take it upon yourself to put an end to the situation before it gets any more awkward.
“well, on that note!” you sing-song, dragging oscar away.
“and make sure you’re using protection!” lando calls out, panic stricken, big brother mode activated.
“oh my god.” you blush dark pink, speeding up, the elevator in your sights.
“that went well.” oscar quips sarcastically. he looks rather happy with himself.
you kiss him as soon as the metal doors shut.
-
you do go out after the race, but for once it’s not to drink away the memories of a weekend in oscar’s arms. this time, it’s to celebrate the fact that you can love him out loud, and he’ll do the same right back.
you’re dancing in his arms, bright lights in shades of blues and purples streaming over your bodies. oscar holds you close, keeps you wrapped in his arms, despite the shock on the faces of others at the sight of lando norris’s baby sister publicly besotted with his teammate.
when oscar kisses you deep, smiling against your lips that taste like cherry liquor, you know that this last year of your life wasn’t in vain.
you and oscar, you’re built to last.
-
“how did you not see it, mate?” charles beams, crinkles by his eyes from the wide smile he’s sporting. he’s clearly drunk, but lando is too.
it appears he’s clocked the brits sister and her australian suitor on the dance floor.
the monagasque has rocked up to the bar with alex and pierre in tow, the three of them slapping lando on the back as they arrive.
“i guess there were signs.” lando shrugs, dragging his finger over the rim of the crystal glass.
“signs? mate it was obvious.” pierre chuckles, pushing lando’s shoulder.
“wait, you all knew?” lando splutters.
yeah. duh. come on, man.
“why didn’t you tell me?”
“it’s funnier.” charles… winks? it’s hard to tell with him.
lando finds you in the crowd, grinning up at oscar like he hung the stars in the sky. the younger mclaren driver returns your look, and it sparks warmth in lando’s chest.
you’re gonna be okay.
-
hehe
-
taglist
@boysthatgovroomvroom @welld0nebaku @thegirlinthefandoms @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys  @rachstash @infinitebells @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane @jazzy722 @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @therealone4r @pleasecallmeunhinged @theonlyadrienne
3K notes · View notes
sceletaflores · 1 month ago
Note
no logan actually has me in a chokehold, all I can think of is him being away for a mission but you’re so needy for him that you grab one of his flannels and ball it up and shove it in between your legs and then basically humping it to get off, and maybe he comes back early from said mission and you don’t hear him come in so he’s just watching you for a while before he’s had enough and decides to take matters into his own hands, btw love your writing keep up the good work!!💕💕
nat’s note: i read this and immediately had to put my phone down and walk away to breathe for a second. your mind is so beautiful anon, thanks a bunch for sharing! hope you love it <333
Tumblr media
|| feat. logan howlett x fem!reader || 18+ SMUT MDNI ||
Tumblr media
Six days is a long time.
Six days without Logan is almost unbearable.
The first three days were fine, nice even. You had the whole house to yourself, free to sprawl out on the couch and binge watch the guilty pleasure shows he always makes fun of.
The quiet was a welcome change—you could really relax, could sit with your thoughts.
Then day four rolled around, and things changed.
You started to notice the little things—the leather jacket he left slung over the back of the dining room table chair, the way the bed felt too big without him, how cold you were at night without him plastered to your back.
By day five, the quiet wasn’t soothing anymore; it felt empty.
You missed the sound of his voice, missed his scent melded in the sheets of your bed, missed the warmth of his body next to yours.
And by day six? Well, six days without Logan wasn’t just lonely anymore—it was a special kind of torture.
It wasn’t just the emotional closeness or the comfort of his presence you longed for—it was the rough scrape of his stubble on your skin, the way his body pressed into yours, heavy and demanding. The way his voice dropped when he growled your name, hands gripping your hips with a possessive edge that sent shivers down your spine.
You didn’t just miss him, you craved him.
It was settling in an unbearable ache, low in your stomach. A constant thrum that served as a reminder of just how much you missed his touch.
You didn't realize just how spoiled he'd gotten you. You haven't gone a day without at least four orgasms all year. Logan made sure of that, enforces it like it's a house rule he'd die before breaking.
You’d gotten too used to the feel of his hands roaming over your body, the way his lips traveled from your mouth down to the space between your thighs, the way his cock brushes against that special spot inside you each time he slides home in your pussy.
Your body longed for him in a way that made it almost impossible to focus on anything else. Every thought seemed to circle back to Logan, to what it would feel like to have him here, right now.
The worst part—no amount of toys or creative use of your hands was enough to soothe that ache. It didn’t matter how many times you tried to satisfy yourself; nothing worked.
The frustration was unbearable.
You blame that for your lapse in judgement when you made your way into your shared closet.
It was completely innocent at first, just you looking for something to wear to bed.
You only happened to trip over a shirt Logan must have left strewn across the floor before leaving. One of his favorites, a worn down brown and red flannel you'd seen him in countless times.
Before you even registered what you were doing, you bent down and scooped it up, burying your face in it. His scent—earthy, woodsy, and unmistakably him—hit you like a freight train as heat began to pool between your legs.
Suddenly, it was like Logan was there, surrounding you completely, teasing you with his absence. The ache deepened, twisting into something even more unbearable.
It was almost too much. That raw desire you’d been trying to hold at bay snapped its leash, and suddenly, the thought of going to bed wasn’t even an option.
You were already soaking wet by the time you made it to bed, greedy lungfuls of Logan's scent enough to get you there in no time.
The flannel was warm in your hands, the roughed up fabric felt oddly comforting against your fingertips and the skin of your cheeks.
As you settled onto the mattress, a thought crept in. Wicked and indulgent in a way that made your ears burn with shame and your stomach swirl with heady arousal that fanned the fire raging between your legs.
Before you could stop yourself, you slid your panties off, your body already tingling with anticipation
You pulled the shirt between your legs, pressing it against your dripping core, the familiar scent wrapping around you like a vice.
You moaned at the feeling, the first rush of relief flowing through you like water through a desert. The friction, the smell, it was almost like he was in bed with you, touching you, guiding your movements. But no matter how nice it felt, it still wasn’t enough.
The ache was only just lessened, the thrum of need was still there, undeniable and persistent.
With a whine, you leaned back on the bed, knees bent, legs spread wide, and you started to rock your hips against the fabric. Every movement sent delicious waves of pleasure through you, but it wasn’t the same. Not quite. You needed more—needed him.
Your fingers gripped the flannel tighter, dragging it harder against your aching clit. Eyes squeezing shut, you let out a desperate moan, hips working so fast the bed frame started thumping against the wall in a steady rhythm.
You closed your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the fantasy of him—of him under you, of his hands gripping your thighs, pulling you closer. His voice low and gravelly as he whispered filthy things in your ear.
Your breath came in ragged gasps, and you were so lost in your thoughts, so caught up in the moment, that you didn’t even hear the front door open.
Didn’t hear the heavy footsteps making their way through the house, getting closer and closer.
But when the door to the bedroom creaked open, your eyes shot wide, and there he was.
Logan, home a day early.
He’s stood in the doorway. His sharp gaze locked on you, jaw clenched tight. His eyes darkened, filled with lust and something else—something dangerous.
Your heart pounds frantically in your chest, but your body refused to stop moving, hips still grinding slowly against his flannel as if they have a mind of their own.
You expect him to say something, to scold you, maybe—but instead, a slow, dirty smirk spread across his face.
Without breaking eye contact, he crosses the room, shedding his leather jacket with a deliberate slowness as he does. He drops into the chair sitting in the corner of your bedroom, legs spread wide as he leaned back, watching you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.
"I didn't say to slow down," he growls, the edge in his voice making your stomach flip. "Keep going, baby. Show me how much you missed me.”
The command in his voice was irresistible. Your body responding before your mind could even catch up, hips rolling against the flannel faster again, a soft whimper slipping from your lips. The friction feels even better knowing he’s watching, eyes dark and heavy with desire as he sees you fall apart.
"Logan, please" you gasp, hips moving faster.
"Please what, darlin'?" he hums.
"I don't- ah! Anything, please," you rush out, eyes glued to the obscene spread of his legs, where his strong thighs stretch the thick denim taught.
Logan shakes his head with a dark chuckle. "No, you wanna get yourself off without me you do it. Can't have your cake and eat it too, baby."
You whine, high and loud as tears burn at your waterline, threatening to spill down your cheeks. "I can't," you sob, voice tiny and pitiful in the quiet of the room.
"Don't be like that, princess," he chastises, clicking his tongue at you disapprovingly. "Know you can come just like this. Bet that pussy's been drippin' for days, huh?"
You nod pitifully, biting down on your lip as your legs starting trembling on either side of the balled up shirt.
“Fuck, look at you,” he growls, voice dripping with lust. “So needy you couldn’t even wait for me, huh? You missed my cock that bad?”
You nod again breathless, the pressure building between your thighs becoming unbearable as his words wash over you.
“Bet you were thinkin’ about me, weren't you?” His voice drops, rich and syrupy, and it crawls over your skin like a slow burn. “All this time, wishing it was me between your legs instead of that fucking shirt.”
Your movements grow more frantic, eyes dropping to his lap, zeroing in on where his thick cock presses against his thigh, tenting his jeans lewdly. Your mouth waters, lips dropping open with a quiet moan as you imagine him slipping between them, fucking your throat and making your jaw ache.
“Such a dirty little thing,” he purrs, his voice sending shivers down your spine. “You like putting on a show for me, don’t you? Gettin' off starin' at my cock while you fuck yourself with my shirt? Goddamn, I can see how fuckin' soaked you are from here.”
The flannel was soaked now, wet and clinging to your folds as you desperately rub yourself against it, your body trembling with need. Every roll of your hips makes you more desperate, more sensitive, pleasure coiling tight in your belly and almost ready to snap.
Your moans grow louder, filling the room as you chase your release, the rough fabric of his flannel dragging against your swollen clit in all the right ways. Logan watching you—making you do this—had you teetering on the edge, your breath coming out in sharp pants.
His voice was a constant stream of filth, each word sending shock waves of pleasure straight to your core.
“Atta' girl, that's it,” he rasps, his voice rough and commanding. “Come for me. Drench that shirt, baby. Make a mess of it. I’ll fuck you right after, promise.”
You were teetering on the edge, your whole body trembling with need as you rock against the flannel harder, faster, desperate for release.
"Come on, baby," he goads, leaning forward in his chair, eyes burning with something feral as he licks his lips. "If you get it nice and dirty for me, I'll wear it for you."
That was all it took. The thought of Logan walking around in his shirt after this, the fabric soaked with your essence, staking your claim on him, has you coming.
Your body shudders violently as waves of pleasure crash through you, pulling you under. Your back arches off the bed, hips jerking erratically against the flannel as you cry out his name, hot tears spilling freely down your cheeks.
Logan growls in satisfaction, eyes locked on you, watching as you tremble and gasp through the aftershocks. He stands from the chair, slow and deliberate, stalking toward the bed with a dark gleam in his eyes as his hands drop to his belt.
“Good girl,” he rumbles, voice thick with desire as he climbs onto the bed, caging you in with his body. His lips brush your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “Now it’s my turn, baby. And I ain’t even close to done with you yet.”
Tumblr media
tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!
a/n: wow this really got away from me lmao...it was not supposed to be so long ANDDD sorry for the low-key fade to black ending but I had no idea how to end this heheh okay bye love you!
724 notes · View notes
foxy-eva · 1 year ago
Text
Stress Relief
Tumblr media
Summary: When Reader complains about back pain, Spencer offers a massage. Things escalate. 
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Category: Smut 
Content Warning: (18+, minors DNI) a little bit of awkwardness, massages, implied hand kink, heavy kissing, fingering, handjob, unprotected penetrative sex
Word Count: 3k
Masterlist
Tumblr media
It wasn't the first time your team had to double up in a hotel while working on a case but you had never ended up being paired with your favorite coworker before. When you stepped into the room after a long day of trying to save lives, you suddenly realized something. 
Spencer was right behind you when he saw it too, mumbling an almost inaudible, "Oh."
Oh. 
There was only one bed. 
The receptionist had already let you know that they were completely overbooked, so switching to a different room was no option. 
Spencer was quick to offer solutions as he started rambling, "I know Morgan said he wouldn't share a room with me but maybe he'll change his mind if I explain this to him?" 
"Don't you think it's more likely he'll tease us? Besides, that would leave me with Hotch and I'd rather share a bed with you than with my boss."
Spencer shrugged and mumbled, "I always liked to double up with Emily. I wonder why she insisted on sharing a room with JJ." 
You looked at him with raised eyebrows and a smirk on your face. "Yeah, who knows!" 
You did know but Spencer was as oblivious as ever. If he was really that bad at seeing what was right in front of him, there was at least a chance that he hadn't yet caught onto your feelings for him either. You really hoped that tonight any improper thoughts you had would be drowned out by the exhaustion slowly taking over your body.
"I can sleep on the floor," Spencer voiced his final offer. 
You shook your head in protest. "The bed is big enough for the both of us."
With that it was settled, you were going to share a bed with the man who had been occupying your mind an almost embarrassing amount. Spencer, however, had never once shown any signs that he reciprocated your growing feelings for him. So instead of addressing them, you decided to simply suffer in silence until they'd pass.
When he stepped into the bathroom to get ready for the night, you couldn't stop your mind from racing to fantasies far from being appropriate. It didn't help to hear him turning on the shower because now all you could think about was tearing your own clothes off to join him. Somehow you managed to keep your composure - for now at least. 
Spencer looked absolutely adorable with his washed-out Caltech shirt and checkered pajama pants, so much so that you took several seconds to blatantly stare at him when he came back into the room. It caused him to look down at his body to make sure that everything was in place. 
“Sorry, you just look really… cute like that,” you muttered to help with his confused look. 
A slight rosy shade spread over his cheeks at your compliment and he looked at you as if he wasn’t quite sure if you were making fun of him. But of course your words were genuine. 
As you gathered your things to go take a shower yourself, you snickered, “It’s a shame that outfit probably wouldn’t pass the FBI dress code.” 
He took a book out of his bag and sat down on one side of the bed, chuckling, “Yeah, it definitely would not pass.”
The shower helped clear your mind and you were positive that you’d be able to go to sleep without any other distractions. As you approached the bed in your usual nightwear - a tanktop and some colorful shorts - it became obvious that Spencer was even worse at hiding his staring than you were. 
“It’s weird, right?” You asked as you sat down on the bed. “Seeing each other in casual clothes, I mean.”
Without saying a word he just nodded before focussing back on his book again. As you leaned against the headboard of the bed you noticed something that had been bothering you all day. Your back was aching and your shoulders were painfully tense. You stretched your arms over your shoulders before you reached back to massage some tender spots on your neck. 
“You okay?” Spencer asked as he turned his head to watch you. 
“Yeah, it’s just my back pain. I slept weird last night and I have been sitting at my desk too much those past few days,” you explained. 
To your surprise, he offered, “Maybe I could help?”
Before you could consider what feeling his hands against your body would do to you, you replied, “Yeah, that would be nice, actually.” 
You readjusted your position until you sat cross-legged on the bed with your back facing your roommate for the night. Spencer set aside his book and sat behind you, tentatively putting his palms on your shoulders. The heat his body radiated entered your body and lit a spark inside you that you desperately tried to ignore. 
When he began pressing his fingertips into the tense muscles of your shoulders and neck, you instantly became pliable under his touch. The places he touched were innocent but that didn’t change the fact that a familiar warmth spread through your body and collected in your center. 
There was no way to hold back the shy moan from falling from your lips when he found a particularly tender spot. 
He halted his motions to ask, “Did I hurt you?”
“No, it just feels really good,” you breathed. 
“That’s nice to hear,” he cooed in the softest tone you’d ever heard from him. “You deserve to feel good.” 
Those last couple of words echoed in your mind before you could grasp what they meant. It was that moment that you asked yourself if the innocent and shy Spencer Reid was trying to flirt with you. 
To distract yourself, you decided to talk to him - unaware what colossal mistake that was going to be.
“So, where did you learn how to give back rubs?” 
Nonchalantly as ever, he responded, “I read a book about it a few years ago.” 
“You read a book about massages?”
The breath he let out at your question tickled the skin of your shoulders and you broke out in goosebumps. You hoped that he wouldn’t notice. 
“Well, it was about tantric practices and there was a very interesting chapter about… uhm… full-body massages,” he explained, not helping with your current situation at all. 
It was getting almost impossible for you to form coherent sentences, even more so when Spencer continued talking. 
“Are you interested in that?”
Almost jumping at his words, you blurted out, “In getting a full-body massage?!” 
“No!” Spencer laughed. “In reading the book!” 
Before you could respond, you felt his hands wander down your back, lightly rubbing over your shirt. It was getting harder to focus with every second passing, too overwhelming became the need to feel more of him. 
“I’ll think about it,” you finally responded. 
Spencer’s fingertips brushed over your lower back, way too lightly to find any tight spots and you were wondering if he was trying to tease you at this point. 
His words brought you back to reality. “I can continue with my massage if you want but uhm.. your shirt is getting in the way.”
Without thinking about it, you stated, “I’m not wearing a bra.”
“I know,” Spencer chuckled. “I won’t look, I promise. Just lay down on your stomach.” 
The feeling of his hands on your body had left your skin tingling and you were yearning to feel it again. So without questioning his intentions or making sure his eyes were really closed, you took off your top and lay down on the mattress. Spencer kneeled beside you and began working his skilled fingers over your entire back. 
Any tightness from tired muscles slowly left your body but you felt another kind of tension growing in your core. When Spencer grazed the waistband of your shorts with his fingertips, a sigh escaped your throat. He didn’t say anything, instead he kept massaging you until there was no patch of skin on your back left unattended to. 
The second time he brushed over your waistband gave away that he was doing it on purpose. For a moment you thought that he might slip his hands right beneath it to descend further down your body. That thought caused you to unwillingly press your thighs tightly together to soothe the aching between your legs. 
Spencer must have noticed it, too, because he audibly let out a breath right at that moment. His hands were still on your back when a quiet moan left your mouth and you noticed that your hips had started moving ever so slightly, desperate to find some friction. You weren’t sure if Spencer had been watching you doing that until you halted those tiny motions. 
“Don’t stop,” he purred. “You look so pretty like this.” 
You turned your head enough to see him from the corners of your eyes. The hardness straining against his pajama pants was impossible to ignore but even more intriguing was the smirk spread over his face. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were dark and filled with lust. Seeing him like this suddenly let any restraint you had left vanish. 
“Please, Spencer,” you begged him to keep going. 
One of his hands found the side of your face to brush a strand of hair aside. He leaned down to place a soft kiss on your heated cheek before he whispered, “Tell me exactly what you want.” 
Spencer’s hands were all you could think about. Every fiber of your body was longing for him and you felt like you might combust if he didn’t grant you relief anytime soon. 
“Please continue and… go lower.” 
In an instant his hands were on your backside, greedily grabbing your soft flesh through your shorts. 
“Like that?” Spencer groaned. 
You tilted your hips to press your butt against his hands and slowly opened your thighs before you whimpered, “Lower.”
As his fingertips wandered over your thighs you felt how your arousal began soaking through the fabric of your panties. His hands dared to move underneath your shorts, grazing along the apex of your thigh. It was not enough to soothe your aching but enough to drive you wild. 
You moaned out his name before whining, “Take them off, please.” 
“You’re so cute when you get all desperate,” he chuckled in response. 
There was no more teasing then. When he finally grabbed the waistband of your shorts, you immediately lifted your hips so he could pull them down together with your panties. He reached between your thighs to finally touch you where you were burning for him. 
The realization of how aroused you were let a groan escape his mouth. His fingertips glided through your folds before focussing on your most sensitive spot while he purred, "You're so fucking wet." 
It was the first time you had ever heard him use a curse word, the sound of such crude language shooting through you like lightning. All your senses were on edge, you couldn't think about anything else but him. 
The sensation of his fingers moving over your sensitive pearl was somehow too much and not enough at the same time. You hadn't realized that you were grinding your hips against his hand until his words brought you back to reality for a moment. 
"You deserve to feel so, so good. Let me take care of you."
At that you point you weren't even sure what you were begging for when an almost silent "Please," made it past your lips. Spencer, however, seemed to understand. He let two of his digits enter you, finding no resistance from your body. As soon as you felt him inside you, you couldn't help but clench around him.
Slowly he began working his fingers against tight muscles at an angle that made you almost lose your mind. There was no more holding back the sounds of pleasure falling from your lips, so you buried your face into the pillow to muffle your moans. 
You felt Spencer's free hand brushing over your hair while he whispered, "Don't hide those sounds from me. I want to hear you."
With that you turned your head to the side again, just enough to be able to see his beautiful face. His smile was too much for you to handle, so you decided to close your eyes instead. 
The room filled with your moans and mewls and the sound of his hand relentlessly moving against your wet center. Within just a few minutes you were dancing along the edge of euphoria. Spencer noticed that, too.
"You're doing so good," he praised you. "Let go for me, sweet girl." 
You felt him moving over your swollen nub one more time before your body began to tremble beneath him. He helped you ride out your high with a few more skillful motions before he lay down right beside you. 
When he found your eyes, he whispered, "You okay?" 
Instead of answering him, you grabbed his wrist to bring his fingers to your lips. They were still coated with your essence when you took them in your mouth to suck them clean. Spencer stared at you in disbelief, almost as if he was witnessing some kind of miracle. 
You could still taste yourself on your tongue when you found his lips in a hungry kiss. He didn't waste any time to reciprocate your enthusiasm, his tongue meeting yours as the two of you melted into one another. There was no space allowed between the two of you, with your chest pressed hard enough against his you could feel his accelerated heartbeat. 
His palms began wandering over your exposed skin as if he'd never have enough of touching you. Your hand became curious as well, moving underneath the hem of his shirt to finally feel him without any barrier. It wasn't enough though, you needed all of him.
With joined forces you rid him of his clothes and took a moment to take in the beauty of the man in front of you. As your eyes locked once more you found the sweetest smile spread over his face. 
"You're so pretty," you breathed before kissing him again. 
"And you're so beautiful," he mumbled against your lips. 
His hardness was pressed firmly against your thigh and you could already feel the tip leaking onto your skin. A sneaky hand found its way between your bodies to touch him. Your fingertips found soft curls at the base of him before wrapping around his shaft. He felt hot and heavy in your palm and you noticed him twitching when you began moving your hand. 
Spencer gasped into your mouth once you reached his tip and his whole body quivered when you let your thumb swipe over it. Your kiss was interrupted by him panting against your face as you sped up your motions. 
"Look at who is getting desperate now," you teased him. 
He already seemed lost in the pleasure when he whimpered, "Feels so good."
Your hand left his erection to push against his shoulder until he was lying on his back while you snickered, "You know what would feel even better?"
As you began straddling his hips, Spencer's hands flew to your waist. 
He still needed reassurance before he let you continue. "Are you sure about this?" 
You nodded and promised, “I want you Spencer.” 
"I want you, too. More than you can imagine."
With your hand around his cock you lifted your hips to guide him to your entrance. As you sank down on him, Spencer moaned out your name. You took your time, relishing the sensation of him slowly stretching you open. Once he was fully inside, you could feel his heartbeat deep within you. 
As you began grinding your hips against him, his hands moved from your waist to your breasts to caress your soft curves. 
“You have no idea how long I have wanted you,” Spencer sighed.
You leaned down to find him in a kiss before you whispered against his mouth, "You have me now. I'm yours."
His hips began moving in perfect synchronicity with yours as you chased the sweet relief together. When you began moving faster, Spencer suddenly gripped your hips to halt your motions. 
"I'm so close. Slow down," he whined with desperation clearly audible in his voice. 
That didn't slow you down, though. Instead you purred, "Me, too," and kept going. Spencer threw his head back into the pillows and sang your praise in the form of his moans. You tried to hold on just a little bit longer, not to torture him but because you didn't want it to end yet.
When one of his hands descended from your hip to where your bodies were joined, you knew that it wouldn't be long now. He began drawing small circles with his thumb around your little bud, throwing you over the edge within a few seconds. Once he felt your walls pulsing around him, he let go himself. 
Each of your twitches was answered by him throbbing inside you, sharing his essence with you until he had nothing left to give. Spencer welcomed you inside his arms as you collapsed on top of him with a racing heart and lungs longing for air. 
You stayed connected for as long as physically possible but once he was soft, you felt him slowly slipping out of you together with the mixed evidence of your shared desire. Spencer insisted on helping you clean up the mess between your legs and was quick to get a damp towel from the bathroom.
Watching him carefully rid you of any remaining stickiness somehow felt even more intimate than anything you had done before. Neither of you bothered to put clothes back on, instead you cuddled up under the comforter together to savor the sensation of having each other near.
When you thought back to what led you into Spencer's arms earlier tonight, you couldn't hold back your giggles. 
"Maybe I should read that book you mentioned." 
"You can, if you want," Spencer chuckled before he began kissing along your neck. When he found your ear, he whispered, "I'd much rather show you everything it says, though."
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Taglist: @nomajdetective @reidsbookclub @gspenc @justreadingficsdontmindme @samuel-de-champagne-problems @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @malindacath @pauline5525mgg @sanaz1dlol @luredwithpretzels @reidselle @alexxavicry @frickin-bats @spencersprettyslut @sebs-oxygen @beepbooptoop @lovejules888 @liltimmyst @encyclo-reid-ia @lilibet261 @fandomstuffff @spencer-reid-wonderland @happymangospot @conniesanchor @reaux02 @ellamaianderson @cynbx @dashneydanger @melifluorei-d @bitchassbecky691 @iameternallylonely @hotchandspencearedilfs @kobaltdragon @amititties @castiels-majestic-wings @torigorie @emiliaserpe @thenerdthatwrites @reidtopia @velvetthunder93 @cncoxlifeline @jordie-gvf-admin @saturnstringz @missabsey @spencerslove @guacam011y @whoopdy-doo @hugyourlungs
6K notes · View notes
pinkrelish · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲.
Tumblr media
singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader
✶The garage gets slammed with clients, and the clear delineation between workplace flirting and PDA is put to the test when stolen kisses in the storage closet aren't enough, over the clothes touching leads to frustration, and getting interrupted in the breakroom leaves Eddie aching.✶
NSFW — smut, porn with plot, dry humping, oral (receiving), pussydrunk!eddie, horny depravity at work, van sex, masturbation, swallowing, teasing, sexual tension, hickeys (giving), reader and eddie are verbally harassed by a customer, protective!eddie, protective!reader, 18+
chapter: 12/20 [wc: 23.7k]
↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11 / 12
AO3
Chapter 12: Satanic Mechanic
The storm triggered rising temps.
————
Monday smacked you awake.
Your digital alarm clock wasn’t worth its price tag when the power flickered, and the blinking numbers of 12:00 seared into your tired retinas, really highlighting the fact that the two fat backup batteries hadn’t been replaced since you lived in a dorm. Whatever—It wasn’t that late, just late enough to cause a sweat when you were half hanging out of Robin’s car, wrestling with a spare umbrella while the sleeves of your light gray Champion college sweatshirt were darkening from ice-slushed rain. Oh, and because that wasn’t enough, the bottom of your pants waded through a puddle in the auto shop’s parking lot, too.
Stupid cursed town.
Swearing under your breath, you sped towards the employee door, and your expectation of a teasing remark from Carl about your tardiness lapsed into stark bewilderment.
You shook off your umbrella, and tossed it in the only available corner inside the cramped garage. Between the shuttered doors were four motley muscle cars parked back-to-back in various makes and models from yesteryears, bright colors announcing themselves amply. As you neared one, a quick shadow passed over the floor from the lobby door opening, widening the men’s muffled voices inside into clear conversation, and closing. You turned to greet them, but the words caught in your chest.
Eddie crowded you two steps backwards, away from the windows, and tucked you to the concrete wall where privacy could be had.
Heat stung your cheeks at the sight of your boyfriend of thirty-two hour’s careful attention on you. Thoughts on thoughts on thoughts wore themselves like a fever under your thick winter scarf. The same fingers he fiddled with to release his nervous tension were once tracing your spine. Not two days ago the big pink tongue he pressed to his teeth licked the intimacy between your breasts. Frazzled curls stood from the rest of his hair as if your hands had been through them time and time again. Soft concern edged the beautiful brown of his eyes analyzing your expression as he did when your bodies were entwined on his couch—yet, in this moment, he idled a measured distance away, guilt weighing heavily on his posture.
The tender rot of apology weakened his tone, “Hey, baby. I’m sorry about not calling. My power’s been out since I got home the other night, and I only just got it back this morning. I hope.. I hope that’s okay.” Reading the quick flit of your eyes falling to his hands and back up, his voice erred remorseful, “I promise I would’ve called.”
“Aw, handsome,” you released. Slotting your fingers into the cup of his palms, you narrowed the space between you in a squishy tennis shoe step. “Our phone line’s down too, and the power’s been going off and on. You didn’t think I was mad at you, did you? Even if something came up and you couldn’t get around to it, I would’ve understood.” The shelf of his shoulders were dotted with rain. “Were you pacing outside?” Meaning: were you so anxious you made yourself nauseous?
“No, no, this is just from dropping Adrie off. Uhm, I actually.. I know I look nervous—couldn’t help it once I saw you, ha,” he broke into a shy giggle, already sticking his gaze on his thumbs engulfing your knuckles. “But uhm, I actually wasn’t worried about you being upset with me. I know you said that when I dropped you off, but I’m getting better at not, ah, freaking out. Thinking of the worst case scenario, shit like that.” A glance through his lashes, and his lips stretched into a sly grin, rounding his cheeks. “I know we’re good. You and me.”
“Yeah, we’re good.” You leaned in, a hint of mischievousness marking your suggestive tone, “More than good.”
“More than good,” he repeated in a smiley mumble. “Just didn’t want you gettin’ the impression I’m some jerk who forgets to call his girl.”
His girl, his girl, his girl.
“I’d never think so poorly of the sweetest man alive.”
Magic happened. There, in his labored swallow, and your fluttery blink. An invisible pull encouraging your bodies closer, sliding your shoulder along the cold wall of your workplace. Seeking heat where it was found against his belly, standing the peach fuzz on your arms at attention from a single brush of your fingertips over his jumpsuit. Want, need; a wish to relieve the burn of pride in your chest, longing to reward him for his progress of keeping a level head when he could’ve spiraled into negative thoughts, yearning to kiss his rosy cheeks aglow with respect. But under the guide of his excessively gentle thumb strokes over your knuckles, a truth was earned. To him, it didn’t feel appropriate to kiss where people could see. Where people could fawn, pry, ask questions, put pressure on something so new. The desire was there. Oh, the desire was there in his gaze dipping to your lips, and staying.
Remembering Saturday, you inhaled sharply. “Oh! I didn’t tell you the good news. Robin got a call the other day, and—”
The voices in the lobby grew. One gruffed out—“Hey, you two?”—and you released each other’s hands, jolting apart. “Wanna get up to date on this shitstorm of a week?” Mr. Moore asked, motioning you both inside with two succinct waves of his clipboard.
A feeble look was exchanged from Eddie to you. The good news would have to wait. Talking would have to wait. Discussing the events from the weekend and all the pretty words he wanted you to hear while his mouth was nurturing the intimate skin beneath your paint-stained crewneck would have to wait.
Following your boss to the circle of employees gathered in front of your desk, Carl and Kevin said hello with raised eyebrows, and Mr. Moore flipped through the sheets on his clipboard, catching you up to speed. “So, lucky us," he said, tone betraying the luck, "the storm hit Springfield harder than Hawkins, so the annual Classic Car Show was moved down here this weekend." Rolling his hand, he grumbled—guy said the ol' historic buildings downtown would look nice in photos—"Anyway, all those uppercrust sons’a are gonna start droppin’ their cars off here for last minute maintenance, or whatever damn hell Roy was sayin'. He sent what parts he had, but we'll have to put in an emergency order, and of course the damn phone is still out."
Mr. Moore targeted you. "We can not," he stressed, "can not accept normal customers this week with all these yuppies comin' in. Unless it’s an emergency, just turn them away, or point 'em towards Thatcher's if they need their tires rotated. Got it?"
So, that explains why Eddie's eyes were welded shut in preparation for the arduous day ahead. The cavity between your hand and his could’ve been filled with a supportive squeeze, maybe a silent assurance in the passing touch, but you tore your gaze from the myriad of grievances wrinkling his expression, and answered your boss, "Got it."
Papers were divvied, sighs were had. With a hard clap of Mr. Moore’s meaty hands on each of your shoulders, he guaranteed a generous bonus for the extra work, and dismissed the group. You pivoted to collecting mail-in order forms for car parts in case the phones didn't work by the afternoon, and the men went off to the garage where hours were lost to the heavy clank of tools making clockwork.
As the day yawned to noon, Eddie’s ears were ringing. He fetched his Walkman from the car, and blasted music through its shitty foam cups in effort to destroy his hearing with something preferable. Amongst the mayhem of cars rolling out of the service bay and being immediately replaced by another, he curled his fingers in a small wave at his favorite Office Administrator, but you missed it on account of the old man at your counter needing the keys for his ‘57 Chevrolet Bel Air.
It was a lonely day. A busy day. An aching day where the itch to connect with each other led to melancholy behind every antsy glance through the windows gone unmet.
Your lunch was a limp sandwich eaten between visiting clients, and when Eddie ate, he did it with his back facing you, bent over the work table on the far wall, mixing cleaning solution for an engine block in between sips of Campbell's tomato soup.
In the wait for a muscle car to be exchanged for a truck requiring new brake pads belonging to the mom with two kids in the lobby who needed it for work the next day, Eddie sought you for comfort in the breakroom, but you had walked to the post office after the rain let up, and by the time you got back, you shrugged off his jacket, picked up a stack of clean rags from the storage closet, and used them as an excuse to enter the noisy garage.
Handing off the rags was the closest either of you had been since that morning. Skin contact was bittered by the barrier of his black nitrile gloves, and the interaction was stained by grime sketching the fine lines of his tired face, stress preying on his mood when you pulled away. He needed you.
Miss you, you mouthed.
Miss you, baby, he returned.
Eddie went back to his project. You went back to organizing paperwork. When you checked the phone line, it wasn’t even joy which influenced your forced smile at him through the window. It was just more work when the dial tone answered.
Busy, busy, busy. No respite for conversation, not even between the mechanics. Kevin’s goodbye was offered as the sun hung low in the sky, touching the tree line. Carl knocked on the hood of the car David was working on to get his attention before clocking out for the night. In retrospect, Mr. Moore was the only one who held a proper conversation with Eddie, telling him he’d be in his office for a bit, and he’d stay late to help on the final set of cars.
In the last slants of daylight dragging through tree branches, Eddie focused on the Mustang Mach 1 in front of him. Sun at his back, wiping sweat from his forehead. Wasting his time on small detail work he wasn’t normally paid to do, yet finding some fulfillment in clearing the nooks of leaf debris and polishing excess grease out of the crannies, salivating at the reward at the end of it: a fat check.
Indeed, he was lost in fantasies of how he’d spend his money when a commotion invaded his mind palace, infiltrating the blank air of his cassette clicking to the end of its tape. Eddie pushed the headphones down to his neck, squinting at the windows to the lobby.
His sweetheart’s face was set with bored malice. An air of disregard, but annoyed all the same. Softly narrowed eyes, loose shoulders, crossed legs. Listening to the man who leaned over the heightened front of your receptionist desk with a pointed finger you didn’t care for, and moving your mouth in a rehearsed response. The man’s voice raised, tanned skin gone blotchy. Spitting mad. You flinched at his irate gestures nearing too close for comfort.
Instant. Adrenaline whipped Eddie forward. Muscles flexed into action, constricted, strained, prepared and loaded, roiling with power ripping open the glass door, sending loose papers flying off the black tool cart, including the one with the man’s name he recognized—
How could he forget?
Square jaw, springy curls cropped close to his skull. Light brown hair extending to the shitty wisps on his upper lip not any better than a grandma could grow. Ditch the letterman jacket for a suit and tie all he wanted, but there was no mistaking Andy, best friend of Jason and player on Hawkins’ High basketball team who helped scar Eddie Munson’s frail reputation after that fateful party he never went to.
Someone he was lucky to dodge at most preschool functions by virtue of his son being nursery-aged.
“—It’ll be ready tomorrow,” you finished in uniform curt.
“Listen better, bitch, I don’t have time for—”
“Hey!” Eddie’s voice packed the tiled room in an authoritative boom with the same fury he entered, commanding the space, possessing the attention as papers floated to the ground behind him. Shifting in his stance, his heart pounded against the strict discipline he leashed himself to, gaining control of his volume for your sake. Quieting to a seethe, he forced out, “You can’t speak to her that way.”
The subject of his ire slid his snakey gaze to him, deducing his long hair, his cheap cassette player, his jumpsuit. Sizing him up. Assessing him. Casting judgements.
Holding reign with a steady pupil on his target, Andy straightened himself from the desk. His expression wore neutral, hands pushing himself away from the ledge and rolling his shoulders with casual controlled dominance. His ugly red tie slipped against his white poly-cotton button down shirt at the motion, following his slow turn towards someone he thought so lowly of. “Figures you’d be here,” he said, jaw jutted in a lax chew as if he were sucking on a toothpick. “This the only place that’d hire a scumbag like you? Hm?”
Fingers stretched and flexed. Veins coursed with heated blood. Sweaty palms were crushed closed.
But it wasn’t Eddie who responded—no—it was his little Mouse.
Jumping from your seat, your chair rolled into the rackety filing cabinets behind you, causing a scene with your hand striking the desk. “You can’t talk to him that way!”
Andy arched an eyebrow at your bark, however, he propped his elbow up in a lazy lean on your binder-clipped manila folders, and held a mutual gaze with the man opposite him. “Sweetie,” he patronized, addressing you with a smug crook of his lips aimed to taunt Eddie further, “this devil worshiper here preys on pretty girls like you. Don’t defend his honor. He’s got none.” With a cocky tongue click, he licked his bottom lip, reveling in the storm brewing in his doormat’s eyes. There was history in the words he chose. They were crafted for The Freak of Hawkins specifically. The rumors he was known for. The lies. Also, the truths.
Testosterone suggested violence in Eddie’s deliberate refusal to blink, but anger did not darken his cheeks in reveals of red as they oft do, nor did he rear a fist like you wanted to. Hard pumps of aggression strained the tendons in his neck, creating shadows along the thick blue vein leading to his strong jaw, but otherwise much of his reaction was reserved, contained in his stoney expression and hidden beneath his biding posture, waiting. Assessing. For years he endured his name being spat on, and he was only beginning to understand the toll of surrendering.
“You’re new here, aren’t cha?” Andy spoke to you, but matched the trained stare across from him. “There’s no need to stand up for this creep. He’s just some lowlife who begs for table scraps, and still can’t coerce girls into giving him the time of day. Kinda pathetic, don’t ya think?” Tone sneering to a scoff, he added to Eddie, “S’kinda miracle you managed to procreate.”
“Shut up!”
This anonymous man regarded you finally. Confusion hung heavy on his brow, curious as to why you were so adamant about protecting someone like him. Then, he dropped his head to the side, enough to see you, and raked his glare over your body, pausing his study on one place in particular.
Your jaw dropped at the audacity, throwing a hand over your stomach on instinct.
Andy involved you with a nod. “This another chick you knocked up?”
Quickfire, Eddie snatched starchy fabric and knotted silk in his fist, dragging him in by his tie, smothering his wet grunt of surprise with a vice grip on his shirt. They were the same height, but when pitted against steel toe boots, leather loafers lost. Not that he needed the extra inch. A different danger lurked in Eddie’s minimal movements, reeling the other man closer without much effort. Enough intimidation lived in his clenched jaw and quivering muscles to show he was not tucking tail and rolling over.
“Hey now,” Andy rasped against the solid threat of knuckles digging into the hollow of his throat, taming him from uttering more. He raised his hands in defense, manicured nails atop soft fingers atop softer palms.
“Watch your mouth,” Eddie enunciated, slow and warning.
Knocked off status by the brave chin challenging him, Andy’s nostrils flared, but his amusement didn’t waver. Under pressure, he wrung the corner of his mouth, lifting his fuzzy upper lip in sly charm while he puzzled out the dynamic between the cool-headed receptionist who’d gone rabid at a bit of joking, and the blue-collar mechanic who abstained from standing up for himself, but sure as hell did when it involved you.
A smirk dared to stretch across his face.
Andy tucked his eyebrows in, and pleaded, “Don’t tell me you already brought more annoying spawn into this world.”
Visions of red gushed over Eddie’s scarred, dirty knuckles, but the reality was ripped from him before he explored the sweet relief.
Dying to get your hands on a ghost from his past, you competed for the shirt on Andy's back. Grabbing his shoulder, you tore him from your beloved’s grasp, slinging him backwards on stumbling feet. You didn’t let the fucker catch his footing before you rammed your shoulder into him with all your scrappy might. “You wish you were half as good of a man as he is!” Growled through bared teeth and trembling with malice. “You’ll never compare. You can’t! I feel sorry for everyone you’ve ever met.” Snarled from darker depths than witless gossip about a man you adored, slapping your hands hard on his chest, shoving him. “Get out!” Shove. “Out!” Push. "And if you ever—ever!—bring up Adrie again, I'll fucking.."
His wild eyes searched for Eddie across the room, but you demanded respect.
Harder shove, striking palms where it hurt—making him cough. “Get the fuck out!”
His steps faltered, disoriented by the polarity of the quiet bitch behind the desk being the one to catch him off guard, attacking him before he could gather his dignity and stop. fucking. tripping. “You little—!”
“Out!” You cut a fierce line with your arm, pointing at the streets. “Leave! Out! Now!” Shove.
Scrambling, slipping on the wet tile, the metal corner of the door handle bit his squishy palm, pulling a hiss from gritted teeth. Shove. Point. Bark. He yanked the door open with a slew of words you’d only tolerate from Eddie when he said them in the heat of your bodies joining in sweet passion, and you let him know with a guttural grunt, pushing Andy out and into the parking lot where a puddle of ice water awaited his shoes. Squish, squish, squelch. He found his footing on the cracked pavement, huffing and puffing with haughty swipes at his clothes, dusting them off on the way to his Cadillac.
You followed his retreat with two proud middle fingers, shouting, “Take that ugly hood ornament and shove it up your ass!” When his shoulders squared like he was going to turn around, you yelped and scurried inside, locking the door only to hear him spit on the ground. Gravel crunched afterwards, and you assumed the tire screech was him leaving.
Dry gulp. Pounding heart. Aching wrists. Loud blood rushing everywhere. Vision vibrating from the adrenaline pulsing between your ears. You got your bearings, and turned to Eddie—except, he wasn’t there. No one was in the lobby. No one was in the garage, either. Down the hall there was a sulking shadow cast across the floor, growing smaller as it sat down.
You went towards the breakroom, passing by Mr. Moore’s head peeking out of his office. Creases from a notebook marked his cheek. Groggy and confused, he asked, “You handle whatever that was?”
“I did.”
“Well,” he shrugged. “Good on ya.” He shrank back into the dark room, returning to his nap.
Approaching the round table with caution, you picked the plastic chair next to Eddie and sat gingerly, noiselessly. Hands folded, upper body turned, waiting for him to speak first. And when he didn’t, you prodded. “Are you okay?”
Eddie unlocked his twined thumbs, and dropped a heavy hand on your knee, patting you. “Yeah, I’m okay, baby,” he replied softly. He didn’t pull his gaze from the wall, blinking only when he brought himself out of his ruminations to pat you again. Blank expression, hollow. Legs spread wide, ruling the space while your thighs were tucked tight together, same as any day you’d share lunch while he brainstormed a campaign idea, writing the story in his head and forgetting to hold a conversation with you. But his silence separated you. You needed more from him.
“Do you want a hug?” you asked.
Pat, pat. “Nah, I’m good, I promise,” he said with a bit more sureness lifting his tone.
Staring holes into the side of your boyfriend's face for far longer than it took to lose faith in telepathy, you swallowed through the scratchy rasp taken hold of your throat after yelling at a customer, and guided him, “Can I have a hug?”
“Oh shit, right, sorry!” The cluelessness jumped off of him as he sat up and wrapped his arms around you, scooping you to his chest. Your cheek picked up a healthy amount of dirt when sliding past his, and his headphones smoothed most of his hair from entering your mouth, but as sweaty and filthy the hug was, his crushing hold on you was everything a platonic coworker could ask for after being verbally harassed. A forearm behind the shoulder blades, a kind splay of fingers on the mid-back. Polite. “I’m sorry he yelled at you.”
Arms trapped against his chest, you bunched the collar of his coveralls in your fists, and he hummed into the comfort of your reciprocation, no matter how covert while your boss was one door down.
“S’okay,” you whispered. Nudging towards his ear, you smeared the sweat at his hairline onto your temple in a blessing. “My first job was at a McDonald’s drive thru. I was fourteen. I’m used to men in business suits yelling at me.” Caught between a sympathy snort and cringe, he offered another apology and pulled his face away.
His eyes and smile went soft, losing their strength from a different emotion trickling in. “Should I have decked that guy? Did you want me to do that? Did you want me to stand up for you, and knock ‘im out?”
“And risk you getting an assault charge on your name? Uh, no. I’m more than capable of standing up to a guy who won’t hit back because I’m a woman.”
Nodding against his ego, he took a moment to mull it over, and dropped into a serious tone, “I don’t want it to seem like I was letting him walk all over me, either. Not that long ago I would’ve freezed up. Probably would’ve sat there, taken it, and fixed his car while he watched. Then I would’ve gone home and cried about it because I’d be so fucking mad at myself for not dislocating his jaw. But,” he paused to run his tongue over the back of his teeth, settling the anger he harbored after the years of unapologetic abuse he tolerated.
He exhaled in a two-count, inhaled on three.
Collecting himself, sincerity replaced the animosity. “But since me and you have started hanging out, I can see how wrong he is, and it just—sorta–doesn’t bother me anymore, y’know? Like, I don’t even have to think about it, I know I’m not those things he said.” He strummed his thumb over your shoulder, soothing the lingering fight shivering through your body, invoking care in his words to calm your racing heart, and his. “I kinda lost it when he brought you and Adrie into it, and I’m glad you intervened when you did, before I did something I regretted, but I’m sorry for what he said. Or what he was, ah, implying about you..”
“Wasn’t really an insult, anyway.”
“Hm?”
“You know, as if it’d be a bad thing to be—uh, uh..” Your stomach clenched from the impact of his gaze falling to it. The sentence would never be finished, and it didn’t need to be. Your mindless chatter proved your subconscious thoughts loud and clear. It wouldn’t be an insult to be pregnant with your child.
Panic prickled your nervous system hummingbird fast. Slews of mortification reached your eyes, urging him not to draw conclusions based on something you blurted on the spot, because—because—just—Jesus Christ, man, please move on.
Shifting topics with more tact than his faintly stuttered exhale would suggest, he shook the stiffness from his posture by clearing his throat, and narrowed his eyes in a curious squint. Dropping his head to you, his fingers skimmed the clasp of your bra band through your sweater, and one of his anxieties was stroked into the relationship with a pivotal question, “Can you tell me, are there cameras in here?”
Without looking, you thought of the layout. “No, there’s just the two outside. One facing the entrance, the other facing the intersection. Why—umph?” He stole the concern from your lips.
Crashing mouth on mouth, he moaned at the relief of having you after a shitty day, and you doubled his vigor, dragging him in by his clothes until it hurt. Spine bent, hips to hard plastic, lips smashed against teeth, joints leading to your strained fingertips twisted above his embroidered name tag. You kissed him until it ached, until he was sated, until lungs burned for breath. It was the best change of subject, because when Eddie flirted his bottom lip along yours after you broke for air and his spit mixed with tangy salt on your tongue and gritty earth between your teeth, you wondered if the primal emotion steeped in his heavy-lidded eyes was the result of the same phrase repeating in his head as yours. Knocked up.
“Do you think it’s okay if we kiss like this? As long as we’re alone?”
“Yeah,” you guessed. “I think it’s okay if we’re alone. Not while customers are out there, or in front of the guys. We should be good, if that’s what you want.”
“Yeah,” he repeated. “I’d like that.”
You accepted his forehead against yours, feeling him sag with a tired groan. Exhausted from responsibilities, emotionally drained and succumbing to the crook of your neck, depending on you to rejuvenate him with tiny, smiley pecks at the top of his ear. Poor man.
As usual, you were the bearer of his weight, trusted to hold him up and be the pillar of strength as his arms fell to your hips, hands at the waistband of your jeans, ambitions decidedly pious as his fingertips explored the ridge of a stretchmark on your lower back. “Ed?” You tucked some loving caresses through the hair at the base of his nape, working circles into his oily roots. “I never got to tell you my good news.”
“Oh!” He piped up, coming into focus, face alight with excitement from your giggle.
“Bobbie got the call, and our apartment is ready!”
There was hardly a predictability to how Eddie would react to things. Sometimes sharing stories about your past in New York would earn his disinterest; sometimes he was eager to listen. Talking about the future was the same. Sometimes his gaze drifted faraway when you brought up the potential of your favorite Chinese restaurant closing before you could have the #4 special again, and sometimes he needled you about learning to drive before he finds you and your bike crumpled in a ditch on the side of the road one of these days.
But worry not, the sunshine grin breaking across his lips warmed you in all the right places.
“No shit?” he released in a breathless, excited laugh. “No more living with the Buckley’s, huh?”
“Mhm! No more competition while solving the Wheel of Fortune, but I think I’ll live. Especially if it means having my own bathroom.”
“Nice, nice, nice. And, uh,” he broke off to trace a pattern on your pants, “And, if I may ask because I’m an upstanding gentleman who wants to lend his strength without the expectation of reward, when exactly do you move in?”
“This weekend.”
“Oh,” he flattened. Voice monotone—Oh. Also known as ‘fuck’ or ‘damn.’ “Corroded Coffin has a gig in Indy this weekend. Drive there Saturday morning, come back Sunday around 3, maybe 4AM, if I rush.” He started mumbling to himself, “But, maybe—if Wayne can watch Adrie on Sunday, I could still— Or if she stays where I can see her and doesn’t get in the way, she can come, and I’ll help bring in big furniture, some heavy boxes. Set up your bed for you, the TV, uh, does the place come with a fridge? I could do that too. Make sure all your outlets work. Could hang some stuff up for you, help you decorate.” You sighed in a way where he’d get the hint to shut up.
He frowned. “What?”
“You don’t need to help us, we’ve got it figured out, but I was trying to tell you the news this morning because—” Quick high-pitched beeps from a Buick made your point. Eddie swiveled around to peek down the hall at Robin’s car parked out front, headlights beaming through the windows. You enunciated for effect, “Because we’re going furniture shopping and packing every night this week, so I’ve gotta clock out early, before the stores close.”
A heavy dose of disappointment jaded his hand falling limp over your thigh. “So, not only do we not get to see each other during work this week because I’m buried under cars owned by dickheads who should take pride in servicing their own vehicles, but you can’t stay late, either?” he summarized to your apologetic smile.
“I’m sorry,” you began, grazing your knuckle along the powdery soot lining his jaw like stubble. Incited by more honks, you picked up the pace, and fit his face to your palms, thumbing his cheeks; collecting him, lifting his chin, guiding him to your lips.
Two hums converged, harmonizing. His handsome nose mashed against yours in order to steal kiss after kiss as two people should when huddled in a private room away from their boss. Sympathetic to his cause, you resisted the urgency of the ticking clock, and worked your hips into his hold, swaying all the closer, consuming the dearness of his prayer when your fully clothed body stood between his legs, melting his stress away.
“Should get going,” you mumbled, brushing through his hair with each subsequent glide of his desperate tongue making it harder to leave.
Instead of a honk, a car door shut, and you pictured Robin stalking up to the door with her lips rolled in, gesturing animatedly at her watch.
Your muscles posed to take a step away from Eddie, but he climbed his hands to your waist, refusing to let go. “Wait! Wait!”
“What? What?” you mimicked.
“We didn’t get to talk about what happened over the weekend,” he insisted, and you took pity on him, raising your brows with a caveat grin telling him he should make this quick. “I wanted to say that our date was perfect. Like, amazingly perfect. Not just the, ah, obvious part, but watching movies and making dinner together was special to me. As dumb as it sounds, even washing dishes together was special to me.”
The bare circles on his cheeks where your thumbs wiped the dirt away plumped up from his grin.
“And then the way you took care of Adrie,” fondness rushed in, eclipsing the fatigue in his voice, “baby, you’re beyond perfect for that. I couldn’t have asked for anything better. You got her to stop crying when I couldn’t—Yes, I can hear her knocking—and you did everything just so exactly right, and I’m so fucking grateful for you, and, wait! Before you go,” he begged you, laughing into another lip-smack on your forehead. You backed away until he stood up, face still wedged between your palms, coerced into following you into the hallway so your best friend didn’t think you’d gone missing without a trace. “I’ll try not to do the whole crying-my-eyes-out and then spilling-my-guts-to-you thing every time we’re together.. No promises, though.”
Almost to the door, you continued to walk backwards, advancing him until the last second when you had to let go. You teased him, “If it becomes a habit, I’ll put ice cream on the grocery list, and we can sob it out together at my place like real friends do. Sound good?” Umbrella, purse, chapstick—check. “See you tomorrow, handsome,” you said on your way out. Eddie filled the doorframe, casting a sharp eye around the parking lot while returning your adoring goodbye.
He curled his fingers in a guilty wave at Robin.
She, with her keen nose, bent to sniff at you, and commented overly loudly, “Your sweatshirt smells like Camels.”
————
Tuesday was a strong, steady build in pressure.
Privacy could be had in the public space between buildings where cars passed on either side, puttering at their leisurely pace before slowing to a stop when the intersection lights flipped red. You bounded up to Eddie carrying two waxed paper cups filled with morning energy, beaming brighter than the dawning rays glancing off the brick alleyway. “Hey! Got you a little somethin’.” That, along with the rocks crunching under your shoes, was his only warning before you were forcing a drink into his hand, and slipping your other arm inside his unzipped jacket, squeezing his middle.
He rocked on his footing and laughed, collecting your head to his chest with a firm palm behind your neck. Your bodies swayed together, ear pressed to the source of his voice; his choppy cadence drawn tight from the sudden rise in eagerness to tuck his chin and mash kisses atop your hair. “Hey, sweetheart,” he breathed, tinted with a stutter from surprise. “You got me coffee?” Spinning it in his hand, he read the shop’s logo stamped onto the cardboard sleeve and put the lid to his nose, smelling the steam piping through the hole. “Mmm, a latte. You didn’t have to go and get me something special like that.”
“I wanted to since I was too busy to call you last night,” you apologized. “Thought you could use the extra caffeine, too.”
Bathed in the teasing glow of sun, you lifted your cheek from the thick scent of burnt tobacco baked into his coveralls, and swam to the heady surface of smoke enriching the crisp air. Raising your nose higher, though, there wasn’t a cigarette hanging from his mouth.
Fresh mint followed the thin fog escaping his lips in a visible puff of breath.
Eddie kissed you deep. Wrigley’s Spearmint coated the flavor on his tongue as he dragged it over your bottom lip and across your teeth. The recent ad campaign targeting smokers sponsored his confident lick into your mouth. Lazy and casual, relaxing his arm around your shoulders. Hot coffees tucked to his chest. Pocket below his name tag stuffed with the red and white packaging of foil sticks next to his lighter and Camels, finishing up his morning habit with a clean taste now that he gained certain privileges at work.
“Could definitely do with a pick-me-up from my girl,” he mushed en route to your cheek, pulling away to take the first sip of his coffee and ending with a satisfied mmm.
You vied for his approval. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Another sip, another warm ahh fanning your cheeks. His one-track mind instilled bravery in his hand sliding down from your shoulders to the roundness of your ass, groping your hips flush against the metallic clink of the button snaps closing his jumpsuit, bringing you to him.
Regarding you down the length of his nose, he dipped his smoker’s rasp into something rougher, deeper, resonating from the courage in his chest, “Y’know, I used to worry about making things weird at work if I made a move on you and it wasn’t appreciated–”
“Oh?” you interrupted, pointing above you. “Do you.. Do you not see the flashing sign over my head begging you to ask me out?”
“Hush,” he reprimanded you with a wolfish spank over your back pocket. “What I’m saying is that I’m startin’ to see the perks of workin’ together.” He flicked his eyes up to survey the end of the alley, minding the crawl of traffic passing by. Any Hawkins citizen could turn their head and see you two together; fronts touching in the indecent way coworkers shouldn’t. Stomachs brushing in the intimate way acquaintances wouldn’t. Faces nearing, warmth radiating from his full lips holding steady above your silent plea in the eager way friends might not. Hands taking what they want—smooth and strong alike, improper filth—grabbing in the coarse way sweethearts do.
Eddie’s fingers followed the crease at the bottom of your ass cheek, cupping himself a handful, and drawing you into his nicotine and menthol kiss. You wrung a fistful of the back of his coveralls, using him for weak-kneed stability, yanking until fabric strained against the snap clasps, making gaps to where his shirt showed underneath.
Huddled, coffee cups captured in the embrace, your bodies buzzed drunk on indulgence. 
In the echoey distance, a shutter door rolled open. “Perks gotta wait, I’m afraid,” you moped, falling short of getting swept into the intoxicating trap throbbing between your thighs when he groaned at the heavy chain rattling, locking one door into place before moving onto the next.
He shook his head, sighing in genuine annoyance at the few minutes you had alone, now over. “Guess we’ll have to sneak around if we want to see each other this week.”
“Yeah?” you drew out, thick and sweet like honey, walking your fingers up his chest. “Need me that badly?” you questioned, mawkish and innocent. “Need me to beat up your bullies, and kiss you better?”
Playful spite painted his grin. “Is that too much to ask for? They’re workin’ me to the bone here, babe. I think I deserve a little pick-me-up after replacing a heater core.”
The second service door creaked and clanked at the top of its slot.
“A little pick-me-up, huh?” you repeated, earning a nose-scrunched amusement at the quick peck you offered him. “Like that?”
“Just like that,” he confirmed, already against your mouth for more.
Just like that—
Even footfalls of heavy boots thudded closer.
Giddy kicks of excitement electrified your nerves. The thrill of sneaking around gripped, bound, and knotted your stomach. Eddie, intending to steal one last treat before his fingers and wrists were fatigued from labor, rocked you forward with his strong palm, but he too was spurred by the endorphin rush, hauling your hips in with too much enthusiasm and causing you to discover more than he’d meant to.
Swiftly separating, backs to scratchy brick, the third shutter door dislodged from the dusty ground and began its clattery ascent. Cool, calm, casual. Racing-hearted coworkers.
Hello, Mr. Moore. Fine day, isn’t it? Dotted cloudy sky with plenty of sun, no rain. Yes, I’ll get started on a pot of coffee in just a minute.
Your boss walked away.
You looked at your boyfriend. Waxy to-go cup poised at his puckered lips, eyes nearly closed to mirthful little crescents and twinkling from your collective shared secrets which grew exponentially. Plunging thoughts, yet you kept your gaze high, deciphering his devilish features instead of analyzing the outline below the waistband of his dark gray coveralls leading to his hand was in his pocket, picturing Eddie’s cock in his fist before noon.
Rock hard only from kissing.
He mocked you lightly—teacher’s pet, people pleaser— “Better get goin’, sweetheart.”
Your features arched to the tune of sarcasm on your tongue, asking him a question he refused to answer with anything but a smirk, “Why? Need some alone time?”
————
Wednesday ripened like boozy fruit.
Thick winter layers were shed for lightweight counterparts; canvas jackets shucked after a cup of coffee, breaking free from the hug of warmth before it riled a worse sweat than the impulses caused.
Just like that—
Treats throughout the day in between vintage cars and pretentious clients. Exploring the perks of a stolen peck in the breakroom after Kevin shuffled out. The favor of a massage along the knotted muscles between his shoulder blades when crouched behind an Impala, where you were changing the trash liners at the workbench, and he was counting lug nuts. Silly benefits like you thanking him in a kiss to your palm, blown from behind your desk after he delivered a stack of invoices, to which he mimed catching it and pressing it to his cheek, walking backwards into the garage in a lazy stride, embracing his dopey grin. “Corny,” he said that time. “Shh, baby,” he said another, when his wandering hand landed in a squeeze on your ass, and your squeal of delight peaked higher than he was comfortable with in the hallway outside your boss’ office, spiking hues of cassis wine across his nose.
Innocent snacks. Quick low-risk indulgences.
That’s how it started, anyway.
“Psst,” you got Eddie’s attention as he strolled past the storage closet on his way to the breakroom for his Chef Boyardee lunch. His elbow jutted a big angle from stretching his tricep, looking like Rosie the Riveter in his royal blue coveralls and red bandana on his head.
When his expression remained exceptionally oblivious upon seeing you peeking out of the narrow room housing dusty metal shelves lined with car parts, you snagged him by his grimey sleeve and dragged him inside. With two people crowding the shoebox shaped space, running into the cardboard boxes of windshield wipers you’d yet to put away was inevitable, as was Eddie ducking around the pull string for the single lightbulb dangling from the ceiling. Your eyes itched and your throat scratched, but with everyone's breaks being staggered to ensure there was someone out in the bay and someone available to answer customer’s questions at all times, your loneliness was agonizing, and his sly smile accentuating his dimple knew it.
“Yeah, sweet stuff?” Already, the lure. The bait of his tone. Dry rasp in his overused voice, hoarse from yelling over the grind of a powertools.
The heavy door crept closed behind him, ajar enough to catch shadows. You backed to the furthest wall. He trailed, brushing his stained fingertips on his hips to rid them of excess motor oil before touching his girl.
But, before he could lift your chin in an overdue kiss, you stopped him dead in his tracks. “Thought you could use a pick-me-up,” you said, breathy and thin, too high-pitched and fluttery to be sultry. Butterflies had been building in your belly since you first had this idea at your desk, erupting into swarmy impatience as the timing never worked out and you couldn’t get him alone without one of the guys noticing, or a customer leaning over to ding the bell next to your pen cup, breaking you from your daydream.
Eddie was still a step away, raising his arm from his side, when a beautiful sight swallowed his pupils whole.
A shiver grasped your middle.
Sweat met cool air, erupting goosebumps along your ribs, tightening your nipples to stiff peaks. The hem of your thin sweater stayed gathered at the top of your chest, hands splayed to keep it in place, helping frame the generic black bra. You didn’t enter the day prepared to show off your lamest lingerie, but Eddie’s stare was glued to the plain dull shine of polyester stretched over cups covering the full range of your goods as if they were worthy of the French term usually relegated to something not designed for comfort.
He wiped his hands more energetically on his chest.
No pet names, no clever remarks crafted to make you melt. No swoony lines, no verbal compliments from his handsome mouth hung on a dumbfounded gape. No thoughts, wit, or brainpower. Everything vanished the moment you took his wrist, and smoothed his palm to your breast.
Suave, he was not. Eddie giggled like a teenager—elated, ecstatic to be touching a pair of boobs as if it were his first time. You pitied him in a chastising snort, hopelessly fallen for his big grin, and helped his other hand. Large palm, calluses dragging on the fabric. Cups too thick and opaque to ogle what was beneath. But he was mesmerized all the same. He fitted the stretch of his fingers across that which you arched into his hold, and ran his thumb over the softness. His knuckles and tendons flexed as he did so, moving under the pressure of your heavy suggestion, sliding his hand down so he cradled the bottom and lifted, giving him more area to explore—
Your inhale came sharp and sweet.
Eddie throbbed.
He checked your reaction, repeated the motion. Found the hard bud under the layer, and trapped it between the edge of his thumb, rocking it to the long side of his index finger. Your body leaned into the feeling, eyebrows drawn, bottom lip pushed out and freshly licked. He learned to do it again. Again. More. Harder. Shimmery praise collected in the corners of your eager eyes, heavy lids and batting lashes forced open to watch the confidence in his movements grow. Faster rubs, heavier pets. Kneading what you gave him. Drawing quick, simple breaths from your pretty mouth as he concentrated on circling his thumbpad around the point of pleasure, using his nail to skim over it, dragging a lurch from your core.
“Eddie.” His name tipped into a moan hummed through your nose.
The stuffy room heightened your fluster. Eddie burned. Furnace body, ember hands stoking your fire. Ends of his bangs coming to a damp point above his brows. Dewy skin beneath his diligent strokes over the polyester cups. The squish. The yearn. The need for cold metal shelves to be pressed into your backside, positioning himself against your front.
“Like it when I do that, baby?” he asked, deep and husky for no other reason than to hear your voice pitch when he pinched your nipples, elusive as they were from the slippery fabric.
You pushed your sweater higher, flaunting your arms closer. The amount of gratification coming from his thumbing was small, but the fun of doing it in a closet while on the clock had you oversensitive. Anticipation swelled your fat tongue, slurring your question with girlish flirt, “S’it a good pick-me-up? D’you feel better?” you asked for no other reason than to feel him grow hard against your hip.
Cement walls deadened outside interference, isolating his hammering heart in its loudest beats, and projecting the low sound stuck in the back of his throat. His deep rumble of, “Yeah, feelin’ better,” was spoken in the hollow between your chests, stomachs meeting during your feathery inhales opposite his resolute ones filling the planes of his pecs with renewed strength to get through the day.
Eddie’s exhaustion illustrated itself in the bags under his eyes; intense wells of purple beneath deep wrinkles you couldn’t begin to solve for him. However, you could stretch up, brush your lips over his, and make the eager noises which fed his ego.
“Makin’ you feel good?” he asked, grounding his pleasure in what he could do for you.
“So good, handsome.”
“Love it when you call me handsome.”
“Yeah?”
He collapsed into you, “Yeah.”
Sly now, your grin broke the kiss. “You still remember how to unhook a bra, handsome? Or has it been too long?” No surprise—he nipped at the bottom lip he adored so much, shutting you up.
His big, tired body lost its strength from cranking tools all morning, but he still managed to impress you with his firm determination laying against your belly, pulsing eager. He circumvented your taunt with fingertips diving to the bottom of the cups and pushing up, drawing tension on the underwire, tightening the band around your ribs. It teetered on the edge of a great reveal, nipples harder than him between your legs. You begged for the release, for your bra to finally crest the whole, and bounce what you had into his waiting palms, where his thumb and index were shaped to tweak another hot moan into his mouth—full lips mashed gently to your desperate whine—unapologetic confidence staring you down. Doing it all with a smile.
The door opened with Carl’s question, “You get those u-joints for me?”
Violent strikes of shame-induced panic shocked you both into action before thinking.
Thank God you still had a hold on your sweater to yank it down in sync with Eddie’s side-step, the dumbass, exposing you because his priorities laid in fleeing. Well, at least he was a redeemable dumbass who used his quick wit Dungeon Master skills to remain with his back turned towards the door, perusing the top shelf for a box of universal joints.
You acted your part. “Oh! Uh, I couldn’t reach them, so I got Eddie to help,” you overexplained, pointing at your taller platonic friend who definitely wasn’t the reason your clothes bunched weirdly over your chest.
“Hm?” Carl looked up from his invoices, just noticing Eddie. “Could’ya get me some washers too?”
“Yep,” you answered for him, hearing the box slide along with the rattle of the steel washers, taking them and handing them off to Carl who grunted out a thank you, double checking his paperwork as he walked away, none the wiser as to why your gaze was sealed on the floor.
Mouth dried of all fluid, yet body drenched in the same embarrassment which reddened your coworker’s face darker than his bandana, you gulped past your heart lodged in your throat, and idled next to Eddie, pretending to tidy up a container of gloves. Really, you straightened out your bra instead, door wide open behind you.
It wasn’t against the rules to date your colleague, but he was uncomfortable with other people knowing about your relationship. Perhaps it was the prying, the questions, the pressure which bothered him most. Or the loss of privacy. All eyes on the single dad who hadn’t been in a serious relationship since a brief stint out of high school, and finding someone now, for him, The Freak of Hawkins, was such a significant event they’d probably congratulate him, therefore crushing the dignity he worked hard to assemble from the crumbs he was left with.
He had more to care about. More to lose. Always, you followed your boyfriend’s lead when it came to his reputation.
“So..”
“S-So,” he answered. “Uhm..”
“Should we.. Do you want to keep doing this?” you hesitated, trying to figure him out. Eddie knew what you were asking, though. It strained against the last set of buttons to his coveralls. The edge with no relief. Sneaking around, copping feels in dusty closets, stealing kisses behind walls, never having enough time to start, nor end something worthwhile to ease the aches left behind. “Maybe we should relax at work until we have a real weekend to ourselves again?”
“Fuck no.” His blunt response raised your eyebrows. “C’mon, babe,” he scoffed, locking onto you with his sloppy puppy grin and playful nudge on your arm. “This work week already fucking sucks, and you’re the only good I get.”
Checking over his shoulder, he sidled closer to you, and lowered his voice, “Yesterday I got to kiss you, and then go home to my kid who ate her chicken and broccoli without a single complaint.” He cut his hands to his chest, palms up, bouncing them in a shrug. “I don’t see any downsides here.” Aside from the prominent downside in your periphery, you agreed. “We’re just havin’ fun, right? Our weekend’s gonna come. These, uh, close encounters of the romantic kind are just to hold us over until then, that’s all.”
Just having fun. Just like that. Perks, pick-me-ups. No downsides here.
After giving him a long look, you nodded. These were just treats to get you both through the tough week. You could resist the temptation of taking it too far, keeping it casual. He could dial it back, and remain level headed about kissing, and a little over the clothes touching. No big deal.
Casual. Dialed back.
Easy.
————
Thursday was hot under the collar.
Coffee sputtered fat drops into the glass carafe, adding steam to the small breakroom, and filling it with the wake-up scent. Sat in a creaky plastic chair was a man sapped of energy, and behind him was his dearest flame. On the clock, technically, but arriving before other employees dared.
“Had to stay late last night to finish a car on time,” he grumbled to you, neck muscles flexing under your fingertips as he lolled his head side to side. “Wish you didn’t have to leave so early.”
You pulled his hair off his shoulders, and stroked your thumbs from his nape to the underside of his jaw in long sweeps over the tense slope, down, massaging the base where his collar began. “I know, baby,” you gentled, “me too, but we found a couch last night, and made sure it was the perfect size and comfort level for cuddling during a movie marathon.” His groan scratched vibrations along the rub, tugging your heartstrings.
“That sounds so good right now.”
Nothing made Eddie feel further away than the graywash walls surrounding you; lights too bright, vending machines droning too loud, stale odor of motor oil stinking too harshly of motor oil. Too everything—grating. His solid shoulders bowed weak from unyielding tasks. Body tired, brain stuck in problem-solving mode, watching cranky customers like a hawk, never getting a break once he got home; making food, washing dishes, cleaning spills, changing laundry, vacuuming dirt, providing entertainment, being the source of a thousand answers, drying tears, saying he’s sorry he can’t find the missing Barbie brush, worrying about everything, forgetting nothing, trying his best, falling short, perceiving himself as inadequate, disregarding himself as worthy of nothing more. Never getting the validation he craved after a long day. Poor man.
You leaned down and loosened the only button on his pinstripe coveralls, below his throat. Slipped the sky blue plastic from its cotton vice, threaded it through the hole in a languid beat, and kept things slow. You crawled your fingers to the sturdy metal zipper—dull gold—and ground the teeth three stretches down his chest, parting the halves to expose his black tee underneath. Your nails scratched the union of his pecs on the way to pull the collar off his neck, earning a comforting sound of approval from him, inspiring your own hum tickling your lips.
Switching from your thumbs to your knuckles, you dipped under his coveralls, and prodded the chain of stiffness on either side of his spine. Cheap poly-cotton grazed your skin. Mmm—His breath hitched, cheeks puffing at the sore knot you encountered, exhaling hard through the pain of your digging. It was so reminiscent of your second date when you were straddling him on his shit replacement for a bed not fit for a grown man, it hurt. You worshiped him between the bones—a small relief you wished to give him, delaying the restless ache growing more visceral every day you didn’t get to hold him for hours. Eddie reciprocated the yearn. He rested his head on your belly, washed curls swaying from his crown, frizzy strands clinging to the static on your blouse; leaning backwards so the meat between his neck and shoulder rolled under your handiwork. Closed eyes, fanning lashes. Mellow sounds of contentment sung through his nose. Beautiful man.
“Feeling better?” you asked, squeezing his traps in hard pinches, collecting his woes and turning them into sighs.
Mhmm, he said.
Perfect, you thought.
Better meant there’s still room for improvement.
In a fluid motion, you bent at the hips, and he leaned his head to the side, accommodating your arms draping around his front. The angle pressed your ass to the wall in an audible glide of your skirt shifting against it. Eddie, so soft and romantic, hiked his shoulders up and beamed hard at the ceiling, squeezing his eyes shut thinking his sweetheart was hugging him. However, you slipped your hands under his uniform, and his sunshine grin faltered.
His pulse quickened at your descent.
“Whatcha doin’, baby?” he asked, tone floating the river of curiosity and suspicion.
You doled kisses where his bangs parted, down to his temple, his eyebrow, sunk in the hollow of his cheek between the hardness of his teeth. You traveled the smooth grain on his jaw—warm notes of nutmeg, cinnamon, and vanilla in your lungs—and wandered over his earlobe, nosing through his long hair to the place you wanted. Lips on sensitive skin. Dangerous.
His throat bobbed at the top of a heartbeat, and his chest sank only to fill with a strong breath. The thin fabric of his tee stretched over the firm muscle laying dormant under a sleek layer of fat. Wheat shafts of hair mid valley brushed against the motion of your hands opening his coveralls further, fingerpads skimming his pebbled nipples; golden zipper sneaking to the top of his stomach, enough room for you to flatten your palms to his pecs, and unwind him. Like a good partner, you massaged the width where you laid your head to rest during a long hug, where you set your ear to listen to the rhythmic thump, where the source of his voice ignited when you asked him a question; thumbs joining to stroke the worthy center.
His black tee framed by the baby blue stripes paved a dark arrow to the kick of his hips tilting upwards as he slouched in the chair.
Excessive flattery laced your tease, “Are you hard?”
“‘Course I’m hard,” he pointed out the obvious. “You’re touching me.”
Not that the swollen length rising from his lap could be anything else, but knowing you caused such a standing ovation after a little bit of back rubbing ran you a mighty temperature.
Wicked thoughts pooled at the bottom of your stomach. The stiff outline influenced your thighs rubbing together, rallying hunger in your eyes. You angled your head, and shifted your focus to the goosebumps surfacing from your sigh fanning the shell of his ear.
Eddie’s neck invigorated your appetite.
You opened your mouth wide and grazed the sharp edge of your teeth over the vulnerable column thrumming with life. His body went rigid—”Oh”—then slack in increments. Again, you scraped lightly over the slope of warmed muscle appreciated by you as a result of the physical price he paid to assume the jobs of many, taking on the responsibility of Carl’s workload to ensure he made it to his son’s wrestling practice on time. Your man deserved the world; he deserved your lips forming a ring over his pulse, he deserved his heartbeat darting against your tongue, he deserved to melt under your attention. Your man deserved to have his little groan stolen when he remembered your mouth’s talent.
Despite the animal way you started, you eased him into the pressure, sucking down on his skin until your open bite filled with delicate flesh. A liquid glottal click preceded the faintest catch in his vocal chords. He secured a palm around your shoulder, heaviness drawing your arm forward, enticing your hand to rove down his chest. Shirt wrinkles collected around your fingertips as you reached the roundness of his stomach, and dipped below his coveralls. The change in environment was instant. Humid, sticky pheromones clung to your skin. Damp body heat trapped tacky warmth to your middle finger dipped to his navel while your knuckles prowled beneath his jumpsuit in visible arches. Edging closer, closer. Nearly there.
You arched your wrist to put strain on the zipper, dragging it with you, almost within reach of what he earned.
Eddie’s hand covered your own. “We shouldn’t, ah,” he cleared his throat, “shouldn’t start something we can’t finish,” he asserted, caught between the confliction crossing his face, and the gravelly tug in his vocal chords. He hooked his forefinger under your pinky and lifted your hand to the outside of his coveralls, where the halves parted below his sternum. “With our luck, someone’ll walk in on us.”
Yesterday’s incident in the closet brought fresh memories to his reddened ears; blotching renewed embarrassment along the pinkish skin where your spit dried. You took this into consideration when opposing, “Doubt anyone would walk in on us in the next thirty seconds.”
He’d deflect your implication with a glare if his eyes weren’t closed in disgust at his own actions.
“Just saying,” you sang, words becoming muffled on the stretch of neck he presented to you with a cant of his head, “we could have fun before anyone shows up.”
Teetering an inappropriate boundary neither of you should indulge, especially not in the storage closet or on your sturdy wood desk, his willpower faltered. “Don't tempt me with that shit when you know it’s a bad idea,” he griped without the balls to make it sound sincere.
You raked your fingers into a fist where they laid, pulling his uniform taut. The coveralls went tight over his lap, stressing deep shadows leading to the concentrated swell down his pants leg; made more obvious when he spread his knees wider, scraping his boots across the floor. Jittery nerves, flexed thighs, torn between crossing a line. Treats, perks, pick-me-ups. Hugging, kissing, touching over your bra. It was a dangerous path to tread. Risky. A million reasons why you shouldn’t.
“Want me to stop?”
“No.” Punctual, quick. Answered hoarsely in the breakroom of your workplace. “Keep going.”
His sentence rumbled in your mouth. Permission vibrated past your teeth, words rolled over your tongue, coating your brain in syrupy sweetness. Keep going. Texture of his stubble, then texture of his skin. Nearly invisible bumps matching the taste buds you licked down the sculpt of his throat, following the moody blue vein to where it disappeared under the ribbed collar of his shirt. You nudged the barrier away, and dropped wet kisses on the hilled muscle. His head fell further into the crook of your arm, offering, making the spot more accessible for you to lap at, cherish. The position was perfect. No better vantage point to stare down your boyfriend’s shuddering chest while you sucked a bruise on his neck, and wrung his coveralls a little tighter.
The shadows defining his lap twitched.
Eddie imposed his fingers between yours, and adjusted his grip several times until the sturdy cotton twill restricted his length flat. Without looking, you knew his nostrils flared when he released a rough exhale afterwards. Being so close, you heard the bubbles in his saliva pop before his mouth constricted on the swallow. You listened to the spit travel, saw his throat bob. Felt the hitch in his whine before he ever sank to the edge of the chair, where his hips would lurch and his clothes would drag along the oversensitive temptation begging for more in a hard throb. A short, delicate, and devastating morsel of what his mouth drooled for.
“Am I making you feel better?”
Through the trance of the powerful initiative rushing his blood south, compounded by the many rules and boundaries he broke of his own accord since he met you, paired with the sultry aid of your husky voice, he nodded. His muscle swayed beneath your teeth. “So much better, baby.”
“Love to hear it, handsome,” you kissed his cheek.
Dots of bright candy apple red bloomed amongst the pink where you marked the destination in the passage from his ear to his ball chain necklace. The metal beads were warm on your loving peck to his keepsake. Returning to the raw span beside it, you nursed the bruise along, sealing your kiss-plumped lips to the afflicted area, and bringing forth stipples of violet. Eddie disciplined his moan in the quiet room; coffee pot full, and vending machines clicking to lower hums; yet his weak noise wrapped you in tangled bedsheets, and unset alarms. Strong arms, and a slow cadence between your legs. Fantasies which were lost in the anguish of professionalism, and busy schedules.
Then, he called you back to reality with another sound. Whinier. Hemmed in his shaky breath, and a fluttered ‘oh’.
You broke the heavy-lidded spell over your eyes and fixed your gaze on the reason his grip on your shoulder cinched.
Eddie rocked his hips, and the outline of his cock strained against his coveralls. The entire definition of his head stretched the fabric as hard as it could at the top of the thrust, and fell to his thigh on the descent. Lines amassed on his forehead as he worked the circle again, starting on a pace which favored his next moan. Low, and slow—finding a steady rhythm, and simmering. Like that, accepting the urge and giving in, fuck the consequences. The spontaneity of you suggesting you give him some relief before the work day began spurred him, and whatever reservations he had about not fooling around while on the clock crumbled. Not that his convictions were ever strong to begin with when it came to you.
Approaching something more desperate with each controlled motion scoring the friction he couldn’t resist, another moan—thick, and hot like warmed maplewood sap—rumbled from his braced chest.
With his eyebrows pinched, and mouth slack, he watched himself get off on nothing but his own determination.
Spit flooded your bottom lip. Your palm needed to be filled. You ached for his smooth skin moving up and down while you fisted his shaft. You strangled his clothes at the thought, and yes, you begged, “Can I?” to which he dropped his head back and groaned a soft ‘fuck’.
“Whatever you want, baby,” he released in a jumble of grateful syllables.
Hanging onto his composure, he reached for the zipper, and the action stirred a phantom taste of his salty release on your tongue. Your body fought tooth and nail to have patience. You distracted yourself by placing fervent kisses in his hair as thanks for the wonderful start to the morning, about to pump Eddie’s cock to the same tempo as your racing heart without an ounce of restraint, when you froze.
A near-mute whoosh of air alerted every nerve in your body.
There was no mistaking the gust of the glass door rushing open, its whispered squeak imperceivable to anyone who didn’t spend an inordinate amount of time sitting beside it. But Eddie heard it. Or, he heard the thudding steps leading the jumpstart in his heart.
He freaked.
In a flurry, Eddie kicked up his hips to zip his jumpsuit to his throat, and you spun around to dig through the fridge while metal chair legs screeched across the tile, scooting in until his upper half was soldered to the rim of the table, and you picked out his favorite creamer.
Hot coffee beat out the smell of Old Spice. The fridge’s condenser fan knocked sense into the lapse of judgment. A booming voice penetrated the ringing pitch of bad decisions rushing loud in your ears.
“Mornin’!” Mr. Moore waited for your response of ‘Good morning’ to drive his Thursday mood, “Y’watch the news last night?” he asked, holding the conversation just inside the breakroom door. “Weather lady said the storm over Springfield is just sittin’ there—y’know, just hangin' over the city churnin' out rain like you wouldn't believe! It’s a strange one; the whole system is avoiding us, but it's what's brought on this heat wave. And just a few days ago we were seein’ our breath! The thunderstorm from the weekend dented my new chicken pen with hail, and now I’m turnin’ on the A/C, but that’s Hawkins for ya.” Sucking his teeth, he muttered to himself, “Cursed town.”
At that, you collected Eddie’s mug from the cabinet, and clinked a spoonful of sugar and Coffee Mate in his mug, stirring through the swirl of piping hot beige.
Mr. Moore continued, “Anyway, we should prob’ly dust off that drum fan, ‘nd set it up before the sun turns the garage into an oven.. You okay, Ed?”
You wiped the steam from your fingers onto your skirt, demonstrating an extraordinary amount of strength in resisting looking at him.
“Yeah, I—yeah, I think those fumes from yesterday got to me.”
“Ah, gotcha,” Mr. Moore replied, familiar with the debilitating headaches mechanics frequently succumbed to. “Take it easy today, will ya? And, uh, could you help me with the fax machine?” You perked up at the change in tone, understanding the question was intended for you. “If you got a minute, I need to send out some of these papers.”
Tapping the spoon, rinsing it, putting it aside, you said, “Sure can,” and your boss took that as his cue to walk into his office. Door open.
You set the perfect cup of coffee on the table, and stalled. Eddie’s fingers trembled over his forehead, laced into a shield and only lowered to the bridge of his nose in order to pierce you with all the glare he could muster; bouncing his knee in such a frenzy it quivered the curl of his bangs over his plum face, and shook the thinness of his scorched cheeks.
“Told you this was a bad idea,” he enunciated, wholly vindicated.
Your lips wore a tingle through their numbness as they thinned into a regretful grin. “I’m sorry.” You passed a kiss over top his head where your hand stroked. When the coal of his eyes continued to scold you through his thick lashes, you gave him another kiss, and spoke in softer earnest, “I really am, Eddie. I didn’t mean to, you know.. yeah.” Balls so deeply blue, they matched his jumpsuit. “Thought we had enough time to finish.”
He grunted.
Under the pressure of both time and guilt, you spun your hands into finger guns at the door, and shuffled backwards from him awkwardly, eyes set on the scuff marks on the floor. “I’ll just—” You were already steps away, about to exit.
“—guess I’ll jack off again.”
“What was that?”
Eddie jerked his head up, eyebrows lifting, realization crossing his glazed over stare. The sentence was meant as a vent of frustration, but not where you could hear it. He couldn’t get redder; in fact, he paled around his mouth a little, licking his lips. “I–uh.” He blinked irregularly through his stutter, finding the words which evaded him, scraping his brain for an explanation while he wrung and crossed his arms in a loose hug over his shoulders, fidgeting. “It, well, it h-hurts if I don’t..”
Corroding into an eye-roll only hidden by the very act of closing your eyes, you informed him, “Yes, I am well aware of the biological phenomenon. You said ‘again’, though. Meaning?”
After a moment of deciding how much information he was willing to divulge, he shrugged into his shoulders, dipping his chin to one side, using his hair to shy behind. “I’ve.. had to jack off before,” he answered, being coy with the topic.
“Here?”
“Yes.”
“At work?”
“In the bathroom, yeah.”
“How come?”
His intentional avoidance drew your smile, so mischievous and calling his bluff, cornering the affection in his expression until his sneaky glance from beneath his bangs wove more and more of a story into his sheepishness. “Sometimes you wear stuff I like.”
You pounced. “Oh, yeah?” Interposing yourself between two chairs across from Eddie—ignoring the sound of Mr. Moore’s fist beating on the plastic machine in the other room—you drew circles on the tabletop, and pried, “What kind of stuff? When? Do you mean this week, or, like, before we were even friends?”
“I am not telling you that,” he laughed, he choked, he denied—hard—basically confirming he did wrap his hand around his cock at the thought of you, perhaps at work, perhaps yesterday after the closet incident, perhaps at the start of your employment at David’s Auto Repair when he didn’t know how to process the new receptionist flirting with him and his way of shutting down any feelings before they began was by ridding himself of the urge.
The topic itself was eliminated by his arm swinging outward, conversation not up for discussion.
And you, enjoying the attention that made him fold his hands over his lap, laid your upper half across the table, propping your elbows so there was a gap down your blouse if he so chose to ocularly venture.
Your words mushed from your fists beneath your chin, “Is it the skirts?” You rocked side to side. His crows feet deepened, shoulders shaking from suppressed giggles, refusing the allurement of your shapely sway draped in corporate gray. “Or is it the jeans and hoodie that does it for ya? Really getcha goin’ when I’m dressed down? Hmm?” Your eyebrow waggle dueled with his sealed lips.
“‘M’not tellin’,” he defended, hardly able to speak through his fondness for flattering you; as if praising you were its own reward, reflected upon him as a good man worthy of having his dirty boots tucked beside your front door.
From the hallway, a rackety sound strung together with a cuss and muffled call of your name roused the logical side of your brain, awakening you both from the hormonal haze.
Eddie clicked his tongue. “Best get to work, sweetheart.”
“Why? Need some alone time?”
The weight of the ache between his legs burdened his lack of comeback.
Obliging, because he was right, you stretched across the table and waited for him to meet you halfway. But he didn’t attempt to close the distance. He stayed put, committed to his stubbornness, and forced you to stain the muscles down the backs of your legs in order to reach. Fine, you played into his game. You planted your smirk on his mouth, dousing his smug features with your own.
“I was just thinking,” you lead innocently, “I’ve already packed my closet, but I might find the time to go through the boxes tonight, and pick out my outfit for tomorrow.”
“Babe—” It was an instant beg. Your favorite kind. “Don't you dare,” and he couldn’t even erase the intrigue, the thrill, the excitement of stolen youth in his tone. The sneaking around, the perks, the treats—the boundary you both knew you shouldn't cross, because of worse decorum than him sitting stiffly at a table, ripe with embarrassment. “You can’t do that. Are you even—? Baby?”
“By—e,” you sang on your way out.
————
Friday came with an excessive heat warning.
Footsteps came from behind you, lingering at the door. An arduous breath was spent sighing, but his voice was too playful to shame you, hardly traipsing through his throat to chastise, “You’re something else, you know that?”
Every beat of your heart was emphasized by his step forward, dragging his boots until his body heat warmed your backside. Blissfully unaware, you continued washing the glass carafe in the breakroom sink. Staying diligent in your task wasn’t an admission of guilt; rather, diverting your attention was an act of grace, of benevolence, granting him access to feast on your figure. It was obvious from the moment you arrived his hunger grew insatiable. You walked into the garage exactly as late as you planned, arms loaded with two boxes of freshly fried donuts, and the shine in his sharp-set eyes did not match those of his coworkers springing from their circle around the workbench. No, the to-go orders of dark roast coffees did not feed a smile to his face as it did for Kevin, nor did the waft of sugary glaze excite his mouth into watering like it did for the other men.
Eddie’s cravings were of a different breed.
His expression was hard, then. If you’d just met, you’d think your merry presence pissed him off. Now knowing better, you read the initial shock before he schooled it to an intense stare, steely gaze locking you into a match. You provoked him with a golden sunshine grin. His jaw went slack enough to run his tongue along his inner cheek, calming his rise in blood pressure, nose perking pink and eyes flashing dark and lips twitching to one side.
You excused yourself—“I should clean the coffee maker before I leave those grounds in there all weekend,”—and went to the breakroom. Eddie was hot on your trail. He came in not half a minute later. Probably didn’t even make up an excuse, he just left the circle.
“This is too far, even for you,” he maintained, aching and slow, words brushing over your ear.
Anticipation mounted in the sound of his clothing shifting, leather boots creaking. You expected him to do something sweet—run his knuckle down the small of your back, or thumb at the strap along your shoulder—but instead, you gasped.
Water sloshed in the coffee pot, suds squishing from the squeeze you put on the sponge.
He dived under the hem of your dress. The fabric fit tight on your body, snug to your waist, closing your thighs in a hug. He tugged it over the curve of your ass, exposing your bare cheeks to the chilly room. Bold. Risky. Dirty. Nowhere near the platonic workplace relationship he was trying to front. You twisted to look up at him with wide, thrilled eyes, giddy with the boost of flattery knowing your simple clothing choice drove him wild.
Eddie got a sturdy grip on the counter edge, and eased his weight onto you until you were covered by his magnificence, chest to back. He shaped his palm to your hip, and dug his thumb above the elastic band of your underwear, connecting the need of his hand to the yearn of his mouth. You melted in the pocket of his embrace, greeting him with parted lips, accepting his tongue. Never would you tire of his breath overtaking yours. Spit, spearmint gum, oddly metallic. Smoke break. You break. Morning tangle of you and him when the others were enjoying donuts one glass door away.
Fearless fingertips discovered you without hesitation. Polished callouses swept over and around to the front of your thigh, greeting the warm juncture with a smooth trace of his buffed skin, middle finger following the edge of your cotton panties down the seam, and up. Only an inch or so into the crease where your leg met the thong, back and forth twice along the line, enough to skim your nerves awake, and work you into a sweat for his index hovering over the swell where a single graze would have your knees weak. Taking the touch away, he wrapped his arm around your middle, and drew your hips in.
He pressed fat and heavy along your backside, unashamed.
The kiss ended in a juicy smack, finished by your hum against the coarse grain peppering his jaw. Lips were licked, sparkling eyes gazed into their match. Coming down with a lovesickness, your skin fostered a high fever, woozy bliss clouding your head—dreamy dreamy dreamy.
“You know what this dress does to me, don’t you?”
A grin cracked your face. “I might.” You immersed yourself in the comfort of his firm body draped around you, the raw sensation of your bare skin against his rugged coveralls, and lazed in the same memory as him.
The burgundy pinafore clung to the warmth of his taken smile from that night. So smitten, and fond. A dress made of belly clenching laughter, woven together with threads of brave glances, converging and averting when the strikes of nerves teemed on admitting too much. Cinnamon, nutmeg, grape jelly in the slow cooker meatballs. Freshly shed pine needles, and glitter. Significance baked into every fiber of the dress you wore under a lonely sprig of mistletoe, unkissed.
Never again would he let you go home believing you weren’t a treasure.
“Can’t be wearin’ this around me,” he obsessed, and you giggled at the rich confidence in his voice—a prelude to the depth he was willing to go. “Gonna get me in trouble.”
Using the sink ledge as leverage, you muscled Eddie into standing up straight with you, winning his heart with a doe-some blink. Arching, you swayed your hips on the length catching between your round cheeks, though the position flaunted something else which might entice him in engaging in risky behavior. “I’m not wearing a bra, either,” you said. Your voice was girlish—floaty and high—a bit raspy from your neck being turned to admire the handsome amount of approval twinkling in his dark eyes.
“Yeah?” Eddie moved his Stupid Cupid lips over the very edge of your ear, and rumbled through the words weighing down his chest, “Need me to fuck you that bad, huh?”
Thrums of pleasure lit within you.
You nodded the side of your face against the scratch of his chin—a morning, day, evening, night, dusk, dawn without a shave.
“Need me here?” he asked, slipping his fingers inside your dress. The fabric over your chest struggled to accommodate his circle around your nipple. You sucked in a breath—released in a moan—and grabbed onto his arm for stability, already falling backwards into him. The direct blessing of his prod to the bud was too much. Your toes curled at his pinch. He flicked the tip of his smooth finger pad over it faster. “Yeah? You like that?” You whined a croaky sound, resting your head on his chest, unable to keep your eyes open to admire the way he watched himself do this to you, chin hooked over your shoulder to view his own hand groping his girl beneath his favorite dress.
“Need me somewhere else?” he asked, and your hips began to mimic the circle he stroked as an answer.
With the ease of a man who’d pictured this scenario more times than respectful, Eddie seized the permission. Middle, index; his two thickest, longest, dexterous. Divine, and unholy. At the bottom of your dress bunched over the top of your thighs, he crooked those two fingers under the hem intentionally, while your hand combed through his hair at the suggestion. “Yeah? Want me to touch you there?” There—a base he’d yet to run even when you were alone on your second date. “Need me that bad while we’re at work?”
You verbalized your desire, as weak as it skirted past your sigh, “Please, Eddie.”
One plea, and it was Love Potion No. 9. His lean frame blanketed you, cradled you, collected you to his height, corded muscles gone solid with restraint. Large nose pressed to your ear, including you in the deep draw of validation into his lungs. Hugging you to the pride inflating his firm chest. The full throaty rasp of desire, and being desired, intimate and close. Two fingers ventured under your dress. You twirled his hair, teething your bottom lip in anticipation for the touch. They were shaped to claim his prize locked behind a fine layer, but he teased you first. He curved the breadth of his palm to the stretch of cotton, width of his calloused reach forcing your feet apart, and brushed past your deepest craving to cherish the place he craved.
“Jesus,” he wept.
His fingers glided along the wet patch on your thong, fabric sticking to your wet heat. It slid along you in a sticky lick, and he sank his teeth to the base of your neck, beyond help. A noise tripped in your throat at his simultaneous pinch on your nipple. He was a goner.
In a few circles around your entrance, he had you melting into his arms. A tweak on your nipple gained your fingers at the root of his hair. He squeezed your slick lips together, and your neglected need sang at the stimulation, begging him in a gasp to do it again. He did. He did, he did, again, however many times it took to have your sighs dive into moans.
Two devilish fingers began their journey upwards, intentions set and clear. Smarmy with ego, he goaded, “Let’s see how long it takes you to cu—”
The near-mute whoosh of the glass door was made obvious by the chorus of men’s laughter bouncing in.
Cold fear licked up your spine. You scrambled for the abandoned coffee pot in spectacular fashion, struggling to get hold of its soapy body in the fret of stress induced tunnel vision—but Eddie? Eddie took his time hitching your dress hem where it should be, flattening it to your thighs. The telltale gait of your boss was nearing, and he was in no rush to jolt to the opposite end of the planet away from you. Oh, no. Your boyfriend brushed his hands in methodical sweeps over the fabric, smoothing it to your hips, mirroring the same cadence as the steps which sent you into a panic. He even gave you a hard pat after he was done. Kissed your cheek to seal the deal, only stepping away to peruse the vending machines the moment Mr. Moore rounded the corner.
“Can’t resist havin’ a little sugar in my coffee,” he informed from the hallway, chipper as can be, strutting in while you were rearranging your dumbstruck stare into something pleasant. He swiped three Splenda packets. “We’re ‘boutta start the meeting, by the way.” You nodded at the coffee pot you washed to a shine. Mhm! you replied after an anxious attempt for anything better, tight-lipped, and dodging his prying eyes by enacting a coughing fit into your elbow in the other direction, willing to bolt if he even so much as thought about voicing his concern over your strange behavior.
Ka-shink, ka-shink, ka-shink. Eddie fed quarters into the Pepsi machine. “Be right there,” he announced, jamming one of the rectangular buttons on the side.
Mr. Moore paused for the longest .02 seconds of your life. No amount of money could bait you into turning around. Whatever expression he was making—if he knew what you and Eddie were doing—that was between him and God. Your shoulders were squared, muscles ready to flee in panic, heart racing beyond what it should be capable of. All the while Eddie crouched for his drink clunking to the bottom slot.
“Well,” was your boss’ succinct response on his way out, underscoring the end of his thought.
There should’ve been some relief, but your breath stayed in your lungs, and your hands shook horrendously, smacking the handle for the faucet too hard on accident, shooting the stream out on high. And, of course, the closed coffee pot lid was the perfect shield, sending water everywhere.
You screwed your eyes shut and defended yourself from the onslaught, worrying about your face and dress first, and your wimpy shriek second.
Eddie came to your rescue.
Ever the hero, ever the gentleman, he shut off the water for you. A ‘thank you’ had been earned, but one peek between your lashes had you quirking your brow in question. He was too close. Standing univinted beside you, almost touching, invading your personal space in a show of ownership. Shadows attempted to temper his smirk, but they cut harshly around the devious apples of his flushed cheeks. You opened your mouth to ask why he was looking at you like that, when—
The explanation came in your stolen yelp.
“Ed!”
“Shh,” he taunted, taking charge of his bubbling laughter at your reaction.
Goosebumps erupted down your legs, pebbling harder where he rolled the freshly dispensed can of Mug root beer across the back of your thighs. The chill bit into you, and you bit into your bottom lip. Squirmy noises squeaked from your throat. He reached under your dress and held the soda to your ass cheek, replacing the warmth of his cock with a bitter lesson. A stinging—fucking—cold lesson. He pinned your options between him, his arm, and the countertop. There was no escaping his revenge. You saw no other choice but to cling to his coveralls, let the shiver run its course, and scold him in a failed whisper, “Eddie—!” He loved it. Enjoyed every crinkle of your pathetic glare when you realized why he was doing it.
His length was softening against you. An old technique, rubbing vigorously at his sensitive head until the evidence of his arousal went away without repercussions. And now you were the one all worked up with no release.
Grinning like a menace, his cockiness eclipsed your vision, putting his forehead to yours so his snarky giggle vibrated in your skull. He wrangled you into his embrace, manipulating you with ease. Layers of implied strength snapped your hips forward. Years of unassuming muscle beneath his humble clothes locked you to his body without trouble. Strong arms you recognized the power of when they snatched a man by his tie, seasoned hands equipped for ripping out rusted axle shafts, fingers which threaded elastic string through plastic beads with the same finesse as soldering spliced wires together. They all joined in consecutive evil to slide the can between your round cheeks, down to where your yearning sprung.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” You picked up his vocabulary at some point. “I swear, Eddie Munson, if you don’t move that right now.”
“I’m just coolin’ ya off, sweetheart.” He sounded so pleased with himself, the jerk. He also sensed the impending handprint on his cheek, and apologized with a bit of earnest effort, “Sorry.”
Not betraying his newly actualized cavalier attitude towards urgency, he utilized his afternoon drink against your needy core as a way to hike you onto your tiptoes, and bless you with an offensive smirk kissed onto your slanted grimace.
Pussy numbed, he took his root beer away, and moved past you.
“Did you plan this?” you asked, assumed, accused. Mellow in anger, harsh in disbelief. “Is this payback for yesterday?” And the day before that. And the day before that. And maybe the day before that, too.
“Well, yes and no,” he resolved, sorting his explanation while opening the fridge. You crossed your arms, and stuck your hip out. The sensation between your legs was dull and cold. “With our luck, I knew we’d get interrupted before we could finish—and I did intend to give you a taste of your own medicine—but, yeah, uh, then you showed up in that dress, and all my plans went out the window,” his voice tumbled silly with self-deprecation, gestures as big as his eyes. “I was planning on just coming in here, and letting you know how hot you were. Make out with you some, maybe get a lil’ handsy, y’know, make you feel good like you make me feel good. But, uh.. Yeah. Didn’t mean to get carried away like I did.” He prized you in another look over. A damning amount of awe sat in his simper, like he was experiencing his crush flirting with him for the first time all over again. That is, before he hung his head back, and opened his throat to release a hoarse groan at the ceiling.
Eddie held the cold can to his lap, rolling it over the swell, taming the last of his biological drive from showing. “Trust me, baby, I’m chewing through my leash to get to you.”
Too charming. A flustering rush of flattery washed over you—warm, fuzzy, prickly heat of the back of your neck. Your annoyance at him was never genuine, but it certainly wasn’t after watching him speckle his jumpsuit with condensation in effort to resist breaking a code of conduct. Though, you were still strategizing how long it would take with your deft fingers down your underwear in order to rid your own need, and sit at your desk without chewing through the particle board, too.
Reading your mind, he put the soda away, and approached you with two palms on your nape, frigid fingers laced behind your neck and cold thumbs stroking your jaw. He dropped his head to the side, and maintained unblinking eye contact through his slow disapproving shake, resentment festering in his desperate gaze. “If I don’t get a few minutes alone with you today, I’m gonna go insane,” he stated. You believed him. “I’m serious, you better scrape together a few minutes to come kiss me on my smoke break, or else.”
There was no elaboration on what ‘or else’ meant.
“I will,” you promised, weak to his kiss on your forehead.
Figuring you’d both been stalling long enough, he trailed his last goodbyes for the foreseeable future on the line of your cheek bone, your chin, bridge of your nose, corner of your lips. Wherever. He swept his hand into your own, and brought it to his mouth, hiding the beginnings of his smirk in the smooches to your knuckles. “Was the soda thing too much?”
Grinding dullness to his sharp intrigue, you rolled your eyes. “It was kind of hot, I guess,” you forced out in a monotone droll, feigning harder exasperation when his expression squinched too mirthful.
“Don’t you mean cold?”
You soured, distaste in every syllable, “Criminally unfunny.”
“I know you liked that one, sweets,” he shot back, waggling his eyebrows. “Now, let’s get to that meeting before they get any ideas about us, pretty girl.” He finished with a wink, and two giddy-up clicks of his tongue.
“I hate you.”
“That’s too bad, ‘cause I adore you.”
~~~
A few kisses in the alleyway, that’s all either of you asked for. Two minutes alone. Maybe more than three sentences exchanged about matters not pertaining to work. But, no. Even when you escaped the two men at your desk reciting an encyclopedic amount of knowledge about some type of engine you didn’t care about, you were roped into giving directions to the shop over the phone while shuffling through invoices in Mr. Moore’s office. And when Eddie got you pressed against the wall in the storage room, someone yelled for him to help with a rush job, killing the mood. To make matters worse, the grueling week ended with you and Eddie being scheduled on the same lunch slot, but with the approaching deadline for expense sheets being due at the end of the day, you were planning to eat yours at your desk, and avoid the torture of sitting next to him without being able to touch him like you wanted.
You opened the fridge and took out the Buckley special. Yellow squash casserole with a side of Shake ‘n Bake chicken. Eddie’s teal and purple lunch bag contained an extra helping of both. It’d become customary for Robin's mom to cook extra, and pack it away for you to bring for him. His actual lunch was in a paper bag next to it. Big spoiled man.
Speaking of, he was at the sink; sleeves rolled up his wrists, scrubbing himself clean with Fast Orange. Bitter citrus stung your nose as he lathered up his hands, working the pumice into the smudges of grease around his knuckles.
Mr. Moore got your attention without introduction. “I’m taking the wife out to that new Italian restaurant. Should’a asked her if she wanted Italian food, but oh well. We’re swingin’ by the sign shop next to it, and makin’ real sure our logo’s nice and big on that banner for tomorrow.” He accentuated the importance of David’s Auto Repair with high brows, and a canted head. He also managed to pronounce it both Eye-talian, and Uh-talian in the same thought. “Be back in, uhh—hour ‘n a half, maybe?” He swung his keys into his fist on his way out.
The group for lunch would be smaller, then. Maybe you could do your paperwork at the table, and get away with playing footsie with your favorite mechanic. Yipee.
“Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Kevin announced, and you both looked at him over your shoulders. You were sorting the lunches to get the casseroles in the microwave, and Eddie was rubbing an extra squirt of Dawn between his fingers. Exceptionally mundane. “I was so impressed by that coffee this morning, I’m going down to the diner and ordering myself a sandwich and dessert. Prob’ly finish it up with another cup’a coffee after. Gonna make it a whole forty-five minute ordeal,” he sold the significance with several nods.
His immediate disappearance out the lobby door after his statement was strange, but you shrugged at each other, and went back to the lunches and hand washing.
“D’you know where those bottles of wax are?”
You shook your head. Eddie shook his head slower. A heavy thread of tension bred awareness between your two bodies strung taut from pent up urges.
“Weird,” Carl huffed. “I swear I just had ‘em. Well, shit. Can’t finish this car without at least one. I’ll go pick some up at the hardware store. Be back in a few,” he let you know, voice echoing off the hallway walls on his way to his truck.
Cold, warm, hot. Your blood buzzed. The bell above the front door dinged as it latched closed. Left behind was a lobby empty of people, garage paused in limbo, and a building cast in silence. You turned to Eddie. Dawning comprehension overtook your faces, wide eyes fixed on each other.
“Holy shit,” he exhaled, and you were already shoving your food back in the fridge, smashing his bologna sandwich in the process. Eddie cursed again, “Holy shit!” and snatched the hard bristle brush, scouring the dirt from under his nails, between his fingers, up his arms until the water ran clear and his skin burned pink. The same could be said for the grime on his cheeks. His light blue coveralls were soaked from the water dripping down his neck, but his face was spotless. Only the best for your lips.
“Oh, fuck, Eddie,” came your relief.
He accepted your willowy clutch on his sleeves. “It takes—It takes four minutes to get to the hardware store,” he stuttered in excitement, counting on his fingers behind your back, “so eight minutes roundtrip, factor in another eight for parking, looking for the wax, and checking out. That gives us sixteen minutes!”
Sixteen minutes where? Behind you was a plastic table which wobbled from an uneven foot. In the lobby was your desk in full view of the windows. In the bay were cars neither of you were quite brave enough to chance a stain on a seat.
“Um, um,” Eddie’s quick thinking trembled, about to suggest he take you there on the unforgiving tile floor, when he remembered, “Oh! My van! I brought my van.” He grasped you by the shoulders, shaking passion down to your toes about the hunk of metal parked outside his trailer when you visited. “I brought my van! I brought my van to drop off some amps at Gareth’s before the show!”
Rattled, you went to give him a thumbs up in full agreement, but he grabbed your hand, and bolted. You half-complained, half-shrieked, “You don’t need to drag me!” Reckless youth inspired him, broad grin loud and clear in his unadulterated sprint towards the OPEN sign and flipping it to display CLOSED. You skidded and bumped into him, bodies converging in true laughter. He caught you, he always caught you, and hauled you to the glass door, slowing in a smooth stride to open it for you. Always opening it for you. The garage was baked in sunshine, streaming through the warehouse windows on the bright day. Eddie’s boots clunked loud on the floor. A rock in the alleyway ricocheted off his shoe, bouncing off the tire of your temporary five star hotel.
The covert brown and cream van sat parked amongst the brick, gravel, and curls of dead leaves playing in the gentle breeze. It sat in full view of cars passing on either end of the back street. You hoped they were watching.
He wrenched one half of the creaky back doors open, and ushered you in the hollow between him and the carpeted floor, engulfing your face with his citrusy palms. “Don’t wanna waste a second,” he asserted in a winded breath, blurring your mind with a heady kiss, and impatient pat on your backside.
Rocks crunched under his boots. Two sturdy hands cupped the back of your thighs, helping you hop up onto the back of his van in a thrill of flirty giggles, weak for how bad he wanted you. Your calves slid against the warm metal bumper, your feet dangled by the exhaust pipe, your knees trapped his hips between your legs. His thick fingers sank into your fat, thumbs particularly bruising. Being everything he wanted, you snagged him closer by the collar, mouths almost meeting, and tilted yourself on the outline straining his coveralls, looking into his big brown eyes with a plea when the lone impact sweltered under your skin.
He hiked your knee to his waist, exposing you more to his packed heat aching to see you again. “C’mon,” he said, lips loaded with devilishness, “can’t stand to spend another second out here where I can’t have you.”
Anyone cruising by could bear witness to Hawkins’ number one Satanist loading a pretty young thing in the back of his ice cream sandwich colored van, and make assumptions.
Bless them.
You scooted backwards into the belly of the dragon’s lair. For an old beater used for transporting band equipment, he took good care of it. The carpet was clean. The wood paneling up the sides remained unscuffed. The back seat was taken out to make room for a hard case for a guitar, and two large amps wrapped in a spare comforter to prevent damage on either. And that’s where your observations ended.
Eddie’s indecent gaze was set on the stretch of white cotton under your dress. Nothing could break his stare as he threw his hair in a low bun, grabbed either side of the metal doorframe, stepped one foot on the edge, and bounced the van twice before hauling himself—and his manic smile—inside.
The acoustics amplified the door slamming shut.
His boots made for two heavy lovedrunk steps. Bruises were earned on his knees, dropping to them where your hem had ridden up, keen eyes traveling the valley between your thighs, up to the soft round of your nipples. Expecting his imminent weight, you laid back. Heat from the floor warmed you through your clothes. He crawled over you; one hand by your hip, the other next to your shoulder. You were lying beneath him for the first time, and he behaved long enough to memorize your gentle grin, and adoring squint.
“Oh, you’re gonna be the end of me,” he said, accent thick in his throat, ripe with lust. The gravel alone had your hands on the back of his neck, attempting to pull him down, to continue the momentum. But he didn’t budge. Distant in the blood rush, he found a bit of sobriety to ask, “D’ya mind if I get you dirty? I’m kinda gross.” His coveralls were marked with grime, dusted with dirt, splotched with oil. The overt blue collar status of his job opposed the unblemished burgundy and stark white tee of yours, sitting at a desk and answering phones in semi-working A/C.
You admired the mental fortitude it took to ask you first, but now was not the time to be a gentleman.
“So get me gross,” you replied, and a flicker of revelation stirred in his features. “I want to be gross with you.” You, Munson, The Freak of Hawkins, the one who everyone avoided; he who was rejected for being unapologetically himself. Taking advantage of his solid shoulders, you peeled yourself off the floor, and from the depths of belonging, you set fire to his kindling. “Make me fucking dirty.”
Eddie’s mouth pursed, then stretched thin, cheeks high, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “My pleasure.”
Plush lips crashed onto yours, body covering you in desperation, touch starved. His weight hugged you, pinned you. He flattened his arm alongside your head for support, and welcomed your legs bent around the length of his backside. Playfully suggestive hums followed his greedy hand scaling your thigh. Short layers of his hair fell forward, tickling your cheeks in summer innocence, while down below his thumb grazed the narrow string of your thong strapped over your hip in a fraction of the hunger he had for you. One trace under your panties, and the kiss went sloppy with tongue; slick mouths mashing, teeth knocking, jaws aching, and lips swollen. Aggressive, possessive, and dizzy. Your dress bunched around your waist. Rugged fabric rasped where your chests met. Smears of grime, dust, oil dirtied you.
Because the clock was ticking, you sped things up with a squeeze around his ass. Eddie listened. Oh, Eddie listened. He took the thrust in stride, pressing down on your need, and catching your forehead with his. The pain was negligible. A gift, even, to hold your gaze when you clawed for the waist of his coveralls, and harnessed a hotter tension on your underwear. A concentrated craze blunted by the thick layers separating you. You lifted your hips for him, spurring more, faster, pouring your strength into earning a faint squeak on the van’s suspension.
He nosed your chin up, and slipped painful kisses over your jaw, finding the spot below your ear to laud, like you did to him, sucking and releasing when your whine doubled. “Pretty,” he moaned into a harder kiss along the trail of spit his breath cooled. The edge of his teeth scraped another fragile gasp. He rocked his hips for a better one. “Love the way you sound.”
Grasping for clarity in the haze, you reminded him, “Just for you.”
“Fuck” —his voice cracked in the sprint to recover what those three little words did to him— “that’s fuckin’ right just for me.”
Copying what you did in the breakroom, he brought his hand up from your waist to move your shirt out of the way, exposing the meat at the base of your neck. Too excited, he left a map of his teeth. The bite stung your nails into his back. “Sorry,” he regretted, but you denied your pained gulp of air, rubbing your cheek along his temple in a head shake, S’okay. He ran his tongue over the grooves as an apology, anyway. Tracking the dips and curves, licking, suckling, and nipping however hard he could to make you scratch circles on his scalp while struggling with the two syllables of his name.
His hair smelled of fertile soil and charred earth, a tang of metal and new tires.
You gave yourself over to the garden of his scent, sunshine against your eyelids. Beyond the fatigue in your inner thighs was his constant, eager, chase. Chewing through his leash. Gnawing at his restraints. You focused on the long graze of friction, and forgot your surroundings which did not serve the fleeting jolts of pleasure between your legs, or the groping at your tits. You didn’t know there was an issue until Eddie’s frustrated grunt led to a harder tug at the unforgiving neckline of your dress, and finally, he shoved himself upright.
“How the hell do I get this off you?”
That explains why he was grabbing at both sides beneath your arms in search of a zipper.
Blinking, suddenly coming back to Earth, you contained your snort at his distressed motioning at the offensive garment enough to tell him, “It’s in the back,” and added, “like most dresses made in the last two, or three decades.”
He beckoned for you to sit up—a sharp gesture, but not without reason—and with your arms around his neck, he unzipped it with such speed, the plastic teeth should’ve melted from the traction. As he lowered you, the straps slipped from your shoulders, thick fingers inviting the release down to your elbows, breadwinner fists folding the top of the dress over on itself, joining where the bottom was scrunched around your middle. You’d only shaken the straps from your wrists when your body rocked side to side; a victim to his fumbling way of untucking your shirt, dying from suspense.
Stale air struck you from navel to neck.
His warm tongue was on you. “Oh—mm!” your voice raised a girlish notch. Two fat laps into coaxing your nipple tall, and fresh embarrassment ramped up your cheeks from the choked noise you made. You arched into his mouth for more, seeking foundation on his hands when an accidental skim of his teeth piqued your nerves alight. Rolling your head back, you found him through touch, starting with his wrists, working up to his knuckles, and curved squeeze cupping your tits together. He showed you how his mouth watered at the sight. Switching sides, he gifted the other stiff bud with a wet swirl, slipping over it again and again, gaining a squirm in your hips when he changed the speed—and without a break, he went back to the first to suckle, and his unintentional moan slipped out louder than yours when he pulled off.
He released a ragged breath into the valley between your breasts, “Couldn’t help myself.”
His determination throbbed impressions along your body even after he sat on his knees, leaving aches behind as a result of the sixteen short minutes he had with you. The adrenaline stayed in his shaky fingers. The top button of his coveralls dodged his pinch, eluding him. Another attempt, and a darker shade of red crept up his throat. “God fucking damnit, why’d I wear the ones that fucking button all the way down,” he fumed, wishing he could rip it open like the metal snap pair. You peered at his predicament through your lashes, and helped him out.
You tucked your chin to your shoulder in a pout, and competed for his attention, “Hurry up.”
“I know, sweet—” he verbally hit the brakes.
All too pretty, you pushed your tits together and strummed your fingers over your nipples in easy flicks, using his spit to skate over the peaks. You opened your legs wider, feeling his eyes devour you between the thighs. “I’ve missed you all week,” you said. His pulse jumped at the tiny excuse for underwear wedged further into the split, trimmed hair growing on either side.
Too long of a pause passed where his expression was slack. “Jesus Christ.” Working faster, he tore through the rest of the buttons, possibly losing one in the process, and shucked the jumpsuit over his shoulders. He flapped his arms to get the sleeves off, and his stark black tattoos made an appearance. The clumsy way he undressed shouldn’t have an affect on you, but when he took hold of the stuck cuff and the plastic beads clicked together on his bracelet, fresh roots of attraction thrived. Underneath his workwear a white ribbed tank top stretched over his chest. It must’ve been bought long ago when he was a size smaller, the bulk he’d packed on at the garage filled out the seams to their limit. Soft definition contoured the sun around his muscles. Veins strained the surface of his forearms, streaking shadows through the golden rays. Sparse curls fanned over the top of the neckline, thicker under his arms, and dark where his shirt rode up.
The jumpsuit hung loose around his hips, giving a peek at his boxers.
“You don’t wear jeans under those?”
“No? Did you think I did?”
The thought never crossed your mind until it was the only thing on your mind. You just assumed he would, so you shrugged, thinking of quickies in the future.
Eddie’s tolerance for conversation was low. A shuddered exhale blew past his lips, easing his hand down the front of his coveralls, pumping along the length fighting for his attention while he obsessed with what laid before him. Irresistible temptations which would forever change the way he looked at you were created the moment you touched yourself for him. Two fingers, two little circles over your underwear. You lured him, hypnotized him, sighing sweetly at the satisfaction. His bicep jumped in strength to restrain his pace, forearm pulsing from the choke he had on his base.
“Better calm down,” you teased in a slow lilt.
He scoffed—shallow in mockery, but burdened by the truth of the lines softening around his eyes. Shoving his coveralls low enough for his ego to stretch freely against his boxers, he walked his hands beside your body until his mouth was posed above yours. A suggestion of touch hovered over your knuckles rolling in a rhythm to honor yourself. “I haven’t known calm since I met you.” Your face scrunched cutely at the compliment, and you stopped adding fuel to your fire by bringing both arms around his neck, preparing your lips for a kiss which would not come. “I haven’t known calm since I met you,” he repeated. “So why start now?”
Unexpected pleasure consumed you. Eddie rocked his hips forward, and the raw glide of his cock with the thinnest separation of fabric possible stole anything that wasn’t animal instinct. You locked your ankles behind his thighs, drove the thrust deeper, and he answered by grinding down, working his base between your lips, loyal to you and the sweat beading on his brow.
You wrenched his tank top in your fists and felt it go tight where your chests merged, grazing over your nipples harsher with each rut. His shoulders shifted under your curious roaming, bulk of his body withdrawing. He didn’t stray far, only to tuck his forehead to your neck where he could hear the catch in your throat and the beat of your heart. Cozying to a place so near, you heard his guitar pick schlink past the beads of his necklace. Adjusting, he slipped into a deeper position between your legs, and a kiss was dipped to the top of your collarbone, long lashes brushing your skin as his eyes fell closed.
Cradled as one, Eddie dragged his cock down your heat, and followed the new angle up. Pitiful begs broke faster than his jagged groan. His fat tip notched itself at the top of your tender lips, nestled where your thong gathered, and he kept you on the precipice of your moan—of which you crashed into splendidly.
“That’s—god, Eddie, right there,” you babbled into a whimper.
“Fuck, such a pretty sound, baby,” his voice faltered on the endearment, panting hot and sticky on your throat.
The damp spot on his boxers grew. His unrelenting strokes over your clit fast-tracked you both towards the edge.
“Did you—condoms?”
Perking with interest at your hitched whisper, his stubble scrubbed your jaw in a delight of scratches on his way to nose at your cheek. “Picked ‘em up on my way home last night.” The suggestive rasp in his voice took residence in your rib cage, smitten by the thought of him going through a checkout so he was prepared to fuck you the next day. “They’re in the.. the..”
The rate at which his soul left his body would surprise grim reapers.
“Where’re they?”
Understanding your concern, he kept his eyes screwed shut and whittled at the knot between his brows with his knuckle, drilling away the irritation at himself. “They’re in the glove compartment.. of my car.”
“Oh.” The disappointment was brief. Your body clung to the fever he set, knowing you were both close, and paradise was another weekend away. Thinking quickly, you cupped his cheeks and put a swing in your tone, “We can do other stuff!” Hoping it was good enough, you scrutinized his expression, watching the words register, sink in, brighten his pupils into unholy territory at the idea.
The charm of his dimple was the cherry on top of his two front teeth emerging from the leap of his lips. Earnesty from a thousand endless wells poured out of him, “I love other stuff,” he said, imbuing each round word with a secret.
Jumping up, his enthusiasm was hampered by the roof. “Close call,” he commented to himself, narrowly dodging a concussion. He crouched to some degree, and made his way over to the amps, hiking up his coveralls to his hips as he went. The sheer lust in his weight pressing you to the floor was sorely missed, but you sat up to watch him waddle the amps to the center of the van and tip them, guiding their front plates down flat.
You puzzled out why he would line them up like a short mattress, and began salivating at the thought of him sitting on the additional height, and having his cock better in line with your mouth. “Are those for you?” Eagerness lifted your voice, swam in your glossy eyes. Eddie should be thanking the stars he landed someone so enthusiastic about drinking him whole after putting in hours around the shop, but instead of getting his brain-stopped-working glazed over stare, he slapped the amps twice.
“These are for you, pretty girl. Come sit down. I gotta thank you, remember?”
A memory of torn nylon and unfulfilled promises sparked at his phrasing.
Gotta thank you.
Getting to your feet, you arranged your arms for a bit of modesty, and snuck past the back windows, walking on shaky legs to where he kneeled at one end of the makeshift bed. Pure affection spotlighted you as the sole receiver of his enraptured smile, face aglow. He squeezed the tips of your fingers as you sat, and his lips were the softest thing to grace your cheek. It was the sweetest you’d seen him, especially when he anchored his palms to your hips, and his nerves crept in.
“Just, uh, tell me—or, let me know if I’m doing something you don’t like, okay?”
You tittered, “Okay,” as if you weren’t on the brink of unraveling regardless of skill, or even effort.
Putting faith in the durability of the hard shell encased amps, you leaned back on your hands, lowering to your elbows on the texture plastic, relaxing through the suspense of being on display for someone for the first time—and in broad daylight, too. Dim bedside lamps and flattering angles could obscure much, but why hide anything when your boyfriend spent the better part of his week biting at the cage of adult responsibilities keeping him from you? He’s the one who hid the new order of car wax for an excuse to fuck you sloppy in the back of his van. You basked in his reaction.
Eddie’s hands wandered the curves spread on the pedestal before him. One palm cupped your chest where his spit dried to a sheen, teasing your nipple lightly; juxtaposed, the other shaped itself over your waist and hips, clamping on your knee and smoothing his muzzled grip up your thigh. They joined to ruck the hem of your dress higher. But before the reveal, he bent over the slope of your body to cherish the glitters of sweat sparkling across your sternum. The minutes working against your escapade were unforgiving, but he chose to dedicate a few moments to your natural salt as he hooked his fingers under the stretch of your underwear. The cotton stuck to the praise he’d given you thus far, damp and tight, a work of art. Moving them aside, he stayed kissing the curve of your belly.
Intense, hot-blooded throbs of desperation concentrated on the immediate relief of your wet heat being exposed for appreciating. Fingertips caressed into a curl for his knuckles to adore your puffy lips plumped together, tracing up the other side with his thumb, and cresting the short curls at the top. A tortured lurch in your hips followed his touch when he took it away. Not a strong enough man to deprive his girl for long, he allayed you in kiss down your antsy chase, and sat back on his calves, landing his gaze where his fantasies only imagined.
He didn’t do anything for a few seconds.
Sunlight streamed from the window over his shoulder, shining radiance on the glisten made for him.
His lungs emptied in a thin, wispy breath.
Manners vanished when it came to a starving man. Your excited gasp lapsed into a spell of stunned giggles, which shot into an open-mouthed ah! No composure to spare, he dove in, shouldering one of your legs and hooking an arm around to pry your thong out of his way. Fat tongue, longer than you knew, buried between your lips. Insistent mouth framed by your pussy. Jaw slack to lap up his reward. He leaned his entire being into licking inside you, and dragging upwards, mixing your arousal with his spit and swirling it in a heavy circle. A single direct graze, and your chest rose and fell in stuttered bursts, shaking through the beginning of a sweet whimper. A light suckle from him pulling off to swallow the taste, and escaping your throat was a noise capable of convincing him God was real.
Attentive eyes connected over your mound. Big, brown, and pleased. Pupils inundated by curiosity, yet abundantly aware. Respecting you to the highest degree, he edged his fixation, surrounding your swollen clit with his full lips to feel you throb through the contact. “Eddie—” Your nipples hardened through the helpless pant of his name at the first true suction. Increasingly mesmerized by the response he earned when he added pressure, he stamped his tongue to his top lip and dropped it to his bottom, adding the sort of strokes that had your hand in his hair. “Eddie, you’re gonna make me cum so fast,” you rushed out. The shame in your whisper felt less like shame and more like a compliment when you held the back of his head, and tilted yourself in offering.
In one solid action, you were yanked to the edge of the amp by his grip twisting around your dress, and he looped his arms around your hips to hug you closer still, sealing your gift to his mouth. Muffled whines of gratitude came from his throat, so thankful for the opportunity, eyelashes batting heavily at the privilege of your inner thighs squishing his cheeks. Too beautiful. Could watch it for hours if you had the time.
You stretched out on your five star hotel bed, and closed your eyes, focusing on the articulation of his tongue against your need.
Steady licks devolved into wet kisses sucked between your lips. Pleasure bloomed from the place he persisted, weaving warmth from your stomach to your fingers in his loose curls. You swept his bangs from the beads of sweat plastering them to his forehead, raking them back with your fingernails on his scalp, luxuriating in the connection of your honeyed caress and his moan rumbling against your core.  “Feels so—so fucking good,” you gushed.
The weight of one of his arms let up. Smooth calluses swept to your knee, rubbing the spanse of your thigh before shaking a handful of your fat, and leaving a sting of his handprint behind. Your body rocked from him shifting under your legs. Bumpy actions led to his mouth withdrawing, and the sounds of him making out with your cunt were replaced by your heartbeat hammering in your ears. He sat up to his knees briefly, and came back to tend to you in a distracted rhythm, clothes rustling in the process. A question formed in your head, but before you could ask it, he latched his pout around your clit, and worked you into a frenzy.
Pressure prodded at your entrance. One finger glided in without trouble. He fucked you with two, then. Two crooked inside, knuckles shoved against the hypersensitive skin running slick with arousal. He strove for a response until your heels dug into his back, and he knew the sensations were linked—inside and out, mouth and fingers.
Then he took his hand away.
You were left feeling empty when there was nothing to clench around, but his devotion didn’t waver. Your muscles twitched at each immaculate lick, thighs closing in on him, too close to care about whatever else he was doing. You concentrated on yourself, arching into your hands, spoiling yourself with fluttery traces over your nipples, rolling the buds in light pinches at the enthusiasm he had for savoring you. The constant vibrations of satisfaction he hummed on your pussy were enough to have you dripping, and when his big fingers stretched you open again, pumping you full in a few thrusts along the base of nerves which burned your cheeks, the van echoed every indecent soppy smack.
And again, there was a sensation of him curving his fingers deeper than normal before his shoulder dropped, and viscous yearning flowed after the emptiness.
A repetitive soft thumping noise blended to the back of your consciousness.
Eddie committed his sense of self to making you cum. Learning the unambiguous signs of your release, and being the reason they manifested, became his purpose. Sucking ceaselessly, investing the curve of his lips, his agile tongue, his entire mouth to heed the steady motion. Fingers still coated in sticky lewdness, they returned to fuck you too. Your deep breaths turned shallow, stomach seizing on moans and releasing them in trembling gasps. Waves on waves on waves of bliss crested under your hot skin, and your voice went too tight in your throat to not drive him crazy, “Eddie, I’m gonna—!”
Groans in the lower octave of a man enjoying himself shaped your release crashing over you.
The intimacy of his tongue on your oversensitive clit was incomparable, sending you into shamelessly grinding on his mouth, huffing out tiny whimpers as your muscles braced around him. Tighter, and tighter, until the tension became too much, and you were shivering for his mercy, riding the last jolts of your climax snug against his nose. “Please,” you squirmed for less, then when he gave you less, your ankles locked behind his back through the torture of a few more.
Doses of euphoria swam in your veins. Sinking from your high, heaviness blanketed your limbs. Bonelessness seeped from top to bottom. Tingly warmth took over, relaxing you to a state of clarity, flourishing in the scratch of Eddie’s five o’clock shadow on your inner thighs. He let go of your underwear, issuing an apology for where the material cut into your skin with a gentle roam over your hip as both hands left you.
The bend where the underside of your knees draped his shoulders bounced at an impressive speed.
You peered over your curves to sate your curiosities. Eddie’s temple rested on your leg, bangs askew and hair a mess of frizz and curls stuck to the sheen on his neck. He’d yet to move from his position, laying his head where he could, face angled to admire his work, eyes heavy-lidded past the point of inebriation. Ambient sun decorated the glisten around his mouth. A gleam of drool wet his red lips, flushed darker than his cheeks, which he pressed into a slow swallow over your tender cunt.
His exhale cooled the wetness before his tongue warmed it up.
A sharp hiss jumped into a whine of his name. “S’too much,” you strained. A wrecked man, Eddie couldn’t hear you through the pride you afforded him, flirting delicate kisses on your overworked clit, surrendering to the hold you had over him, and reveling in the aftermath of making you cum. Gradually going limp, his nose mashed to your mound, mouth hung open, pushing your orgasm in lazy laps. Another cry, beg, aftershock of his name and the burden of his forehead fell to your hip crease, filling his lungs in uneven drags. The break in sensory overload was appreciated; a sigh of relief.
You sat up and dropped your legs from their mantle, intent on clearing the fuzz from your mind, but—Eddie’s elbow rubbed a fierce tempo along your calf. The motion synced with the fast-paced squelch you heard earlier, before it faded to the background along with the soft thump and rustle of clothes. All of it came together in an echo of answers. Straightening up further, you witnessed exactly how worked up he was over your pussy.
Speechless awe overrode your ability to form sentences 
In the gap framed by your thighs, his body shuddered through the fervent strokes focused over his lap. With his coveralls slacked to the tops of his thighs, he cupped his balls over the waistband of his boxers, skin bouncing in his palm, soft grip protecting their load while his other hand worked his length. Clear slick trickled over his knuckles, fingers slipping over the cream gathered at the head and guiding it down. Absolutely candid in his attraction, he fucked his fist using your arousal as lube.
In just a few twists over the blushy needy tip, he pumped the base in effort to make himself last, and peeled his sticky cheek off your thigh, looking up at you. Whiskey eyes awfully honest, awfully clear and round, he said, “You’re about to make me cum so hard.” In the vocal pause, the wet glide of his palm drove him to the edge, and his tone grew pointed as he went beyond the point of slowing down, “Like, now.”
The reason behind his direness took a moment to register, but when it did, panic flickered through you.
“Oh—shit—uh,” you stuttered. He needed a place to cum, and in your post-orgasmic daze you dropped your chin to think of your tits first, but had the wherewithal to decide against the possibility of him misaiming onto your dress. Beside you, the blanket was mostly stuck under the amps, and there wasn’t an extra rag in sight. His tank top was an option, but you thought of a better one. “My mouth!” you insisted with a gesture. “I’ll—” swallow.
Eddie was already to his feet. The van rocked with his heavy boots, wide stance stretching his coveralls tight around his legs, and undershirt pushed up out of the way. He braced one hand on the roof, cushioning his head bent to the metal in order to stand, and resumed his pace. You stuck your tongue out. The immediate pressure of his cock prodded the flat middle. Tasting yourself for the first time, the tang was surprising, but welcomed by the familiar salt leaking from his tip mixing with your spit. Warming up to the blend, you swirled sultry licks on the sensitive underside he avoided, and his tattooed stomach clenched.
Sitting pretty, you knew what he liked and cupped your tits together, gazing up at him with a submissive pinch between your brows. “So goddamn hot,” he grunted out, jaw clenched as if he were mad, stroking himself faster. His middle finger rammed over your lip on every pass. It might swell. It might bruise. “So—mmm—f’king hot.” Breaths jagged, his thighs flexed from the buckle in his knees, staggering him a step forward enough to put tension on your gag reflex. You clutched his jumpsuit into your fists. His rough groans shook through his stature. Building cusps of his release stuttered his hand flying over his cock, jerking himself off in bursts as pleasure peaked under his skin. The scrunch of concentration above his nose deepened. His stomach tightened in pulses, pecs jumping with his gasp, “Gonna,” and he was spilling into your mouth.
A moan made its way through your throat before it closed in a quick swallow. Tongue out, he trembled as he coated you some more. The first two shots were heavy, the rest followed suit, filling you for another round which you accepted with your lips snug around his fat tip. He doubled over at the achy raw sensation of your cheeks hollowing. Baby, he throbbed into you, flinching, yet giving. Allowed, you polished swirls over the throbbing head, lapping up any remains. You sat there with his clean cock in your mouth, meditating on the line drawn from the tattooed dragon wrapped around the sword pointing at the trail from his navel to the thick patch of curls at his base, which you could only reach when he was going soft, as he was then.
He tucked himself into his boxers after you pulled away, and sank to his knees. The sweat on his forehead merged with yours, oily noses pressed together, eyes hardly open as he trusted you to hold him up. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” his voice came hoarse with sincerity, anchored by the current of true longing flowing from the depths of his past. “How much it means to me, making you feel good like you make me feel good.” For Eddie, having proof of the good he could provide for you validated parts of himself he hadn't acknowledged for years. “Sorry I made it about myself in the end there. I, uh—ha—I couldn’t help myself when you were getting into it, and saying my name, ‘nd stuff.” Your bark of laughter encouraged his shy giggle, all bashful and humble.
Kissing his smile, your lips connected on the fated scents of each other after a hot and heavy day at work, and he sighed into palms fitting themselves to his jaw, mouth fixed in a taut smile as he worked through the happiness welling in his throat.
You told him, “Make me cum like that, and you can do whatever you want, Munson.” He snorted at his name, and played with strands of hair over his face, hiding his stupid grin. “I’m serious. Not that I thought you’d be bad or anything, but that was beyond good. Like, really good.” You should stop talking. “And it was flattering. Like, hot. It was really hot,” you decided, “knowing you couldn’t stop touching yourself—”
“Stop,” he complained in an embarrassed whine. Unable to take praise outside the heat of the moment, his gaze made friends with the floor while he mumbled about how he was a motivated learner and pulled out all his tricks to impress you, tucking his chin to avoid owning his skill. He dropped the act on a dime. Pointing, an overabundance of pride entered his tone once more, “You, uhm.. you christened my amp.”
“Huh?” You spread your legs to see. Utter mortification stung your nerves at the sticky stream of arousal, spit, and climax drying down the side of the plastic, wetting his piece of expensive equipment. “Oh god, I’m so sorry! Is it okay? Did I damage it—?”
“I got it,” he said with a firm hand to your sternum, laying you flat.
The low rumble in his throat drew near. Staying gentle, he parted your slippery split in a deep lick to your inner heat, running his tongue in broad strokes up the extra passion made just for him, quenching his thirst before your lunch break rendezvous was over. An appreciative kiss was bestowed on your clit before he smoothed your underwear into place. He wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist, and helped you up. The amp was left how it was.
Eddie opened his arms, and you understood. Moving slow through the syrup in your limbs, you straddled his lap, settling yourself over his softened cock, sensitive selves brushing through clothes. He reached behind him and popped open the door. Fresh air smacked rivers of sweat, cooling and calming. You melted into the other’s embrace, bonding in the last moments of your time together.
Sun glanced off the wood paneling, casting a glow on his puffy face. Sleepy eyes, messy hair, unbearably adorable grin—the type of candid expression showing how honored he was to share the same breath in the limited space between your chests. Lovesick eyes, bed head, face he’d have to wash in the bathroom sink with hand soap. So handsome. You combed the delicate hairs at his nape up into his bun, scratching tingles through his body. The threat of being caught was ignored for one minute longer.
Traces of humor rounded his clipt tone, “I need you next weekend. ‘Kay? I don’t care what we gotta do—if we gotta send Buckley off on some island vacation—I want some real alone time with you.”
“What? Is the van not good enough?”
“No,” he answered your tease with a serious drawl, raising his eyebrows. “This was just to hold us over until then. I don’t wanna make a habit of this, ‘cause then this? This is all I’ll think about when I’m supposed to be, y’know, working. Fixing shit. Not.. picturing you with your tits out.” Speaking of the distraction, he tugged your shirt down, and you fell into a fit of giggles, snickering against the crook of his neck as you stuffed the hem in your dress, and he crawled the straps up your arms, managing to zip the back up without looking.
Of which your good mood dwindled when you collected yourself. “Aw..”
“Yeah, it’s kinda worse than I thought it’d be.. Sorry.”
Dirt, motor oil, grime. Streaks, smears, smudges. And plenty of it. The burgundy dress he adored was visibly ruined, and only half way through your clocked-in hours.
You found the silver lining. “Guess I’ll wear black from now on.”
“Black looks good on you,” he assured. You reared back to assess the damage, and he filled the stretch of his palms with two handfuls of ass, ensuring you didn’t lose balance. Always willing to be of assistance, of course. “Oh, and may I say, genius planning on your part with the car wax,” he stressed his admiration of you. “Can’t believe I didn’t think of that myself.”
Not following, you stopped scraping your nail over a patch of dust clinging to your white sleeve. “I thought you hid the car wax?”
“No..”
The next line was predictable. You would meet eyes, wait a beat, and deliver ‘Then.. who did?’ However, Eddie proved his impulsive thoughts won when devious shadows crowded the hook of his smirk, dimple arising. He opened his mouth, and you knew no good would come from it.
“I didn’t even fuck you, and you already can’t remember where you put the—Gah!” He shrieked at your pinch on his nipple, and the van rocked harder with your combined laughter, obnoxious in every organic way.
Casual wasn't an option when you wore this dress. Dialed back lost its meaning one root beer ago. The afternoon delight would live in the fibers of your unspoken language every morning when you looked at each other; coffee, cigarettes, spearmint. Goodbye normal workplace relationship, and good riddance.
~~~
Carl entered the lobby with confusion on his brow. He eyed the CLOSED sign on the door, and shuffled the bottles of wax loaded in his arms to turn it around, almost dropping them in the process. Earsplitting guitar licks and shrill vocals belonging to Iron Maiden beat on the windows to the garage, drawing his attention to the half-dressed mechanic ripping a bite out of his bologna sandwich, and flipping a socket wrench in his hand, head banging along to his music. Carl slid his side-eye away. Questions were not asked on his walk past your desk, merely serving a glance at your forkful of perceptibly congealed squash casserole which hadn’t been microwaved. Better yet, he didn’t address the canvas jacket you wore despite the visible shine dotting your forehead, nor your wheezing breaths as if you’d sat in your chair approximately thirty-nine seconds ago. He continued down the hall in silence.
The hair on your nape stood on end from someone’s gaze on you. The correct choice would be to ignore it, keep your head down, and finish the expense reports due by the time Robin picked you up. But like a good bitch, you submitted.
Waiting for you was Eddie’s cocky grin. Through the dusty glass pane indulgent curves of mischief edged his eyes into smug little crescents glinting from the secret between your bodies. Boundless amounts of vanity broadened his chest, pecs jumping as he tightened the sleeves of his coveralls tied around his waist. He peacocked in a slow turn to bend over the engine he was working on, shifting from foot to foot and leaning his hands on the car, flexing through the motion to catch swathes of shadows on the swell of his triceps leading to his hardened shoulders, strong back taking shape under his tank top. Mesmerizing. You couldn’t begin to imagine a world where you could keep the dreamy sigh out of your voice when Carl’s bewildered question arose.
“Wait—Were these here the whole time?” Judging by the plastic bounce and cardboard scramble, he had dropped one of the bottles, and when he dropped to his knees to grab it from behind a mop bucket you forgot to empty, he spotted the box of car wax you ordered at the start of the week and misplaced amongst the chaos in the storage closet.
“Oh? Were they?” you wondered. Stuffing the casserole in your mouth, the fork tines scraped across your teeth on its way out, chewing with your cheek propped on your fist. Blinking sleepily at the purply blue bruises you left on Eddie’s neck the morning before, you replied from faraway, “Weird. Thought I left them on the shelf.. Maybe the garage is cursed like Hawkins, too.”
4K notes · View notes
baubeautyandthegeek · 2 months ago
Text
Staying Alive - Rose/Ilsa Faust
A/N: Day 18 bonus fic for @sicktember
Tumblr media Tumblr media
“My body is one big ache…” Ilsa’s voice is raspy even as Rose moves to check on the final few bandages, noting the woman’s healed skin is softer, delicate, to the touch. She remembers when Ilsa was brought in, barely alive, the stab wound clearly the latest in a string of near fatal issues. The woman’s body even now was a mess of bruising. The impact of a car is clear in one of the bruises, marks off the road are scattered across the woman’s slim frame, glass cuts and further bruising from what Rose can only assume was a fall from a roof and, of course, the angry slice at the woman’s thigh and ankle, then the last, the worst. The stab wound inches from hitting her heart. “You’ve been collecting some rather nasty war wounds… might be why.” Rose’s comment is mild as she pours the girl water, gently supporting her as she sits up a little, wincing even as she sips the water, nodding thanks before settling slowly back. “Try to sleep, I’ll check on you tomorrow…. Ilsa.”
4 notes · View notes
lostalioth · 24 days ago
Text
𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐲
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
→ premise: miguel considered himself a very put together and composed man until your hands were on him, he lost himself.
→ pairing: sub!miguel o’hara x fem!reader
→ warnings: smut | 18+, handjob, overstimualtion, begging, miguel switches between spanish and english a lot
→ a/n: kinktober 10
Tumblr media
Miguel was laid back with his legs widened to accommodate you sitting in front of him on your knees on the bed. He had been so over worked all day, you wanted to give him a little stress relief.
That was about three orgasms ago and he was a blabbering, needy, overstimulated mess now.
“Bebe, mhmm-mireda slow down please please” Miguel rambles out breathlessly, his brain on overdrive as his words switch between English and Spanish and his hips buck up into your hand. Your grip on his cock tightens as you speed up your movements, rubbing your thumb through his leaking tip when you go up. Your saliva and spit coating and dripping down his shaft from having him in your mouth earlier makes your hand glide along easier.
“Ay coño, amor ahh~ Por favor bebe i can't take it, no more” he cries out his fingers digging into your thighs as his hips thrust up and squirm. “You can give me one more baby come on Miggy” you slow down your movements just for him to catch his breath. “Just one more orgasm my love” you explain smiling sweetly at him, though he swears he heard those exact words before his last one. Miguel’s head was far too fuzzy and his cock throbbing too much from both his impending orgasm as well as the overstimulation to know if he was remembering correctly.
“Mi vida, Bebe mmm~ no puedo, s’to much, feels s’good but too much” he whines, all his words slurring together, his balls tighten like he’s gonna cum and yet he feels as though you’ve already drained it all out of him three orgasms ago. His eyes screw shut as his head falls back agaisnt the plush pillows behind him, hips still fucking up still into your hand as if they had a mind of their own. His cock aching and extra sensitive and yet still stiff as a rock, he’s barely gone soft this whole time as your hand hasn't left him for a minute. Your hands on his body, rubbing along his tip and shaft felt heavenly and painful at the same time and yet he makes no move to stop you. “I promise Miggy, one more baby, you're my big strong man you can do it” the latter half of your sentence was intended to be taken as you mocking him. He knew this, the position he was in, whining, panting, letting out strings of Spanish curse words that blend together with his English ones. He was a pathetic mess right now, not the typical strong well composed man he always was. He could care less however, this is what your touch does to him and it feels far too good to fight back against your teasing words.
”Gonna cum Bebe, please let me cum amor, necesito, fuck- hurts s’good” he moans out, his hips flattering in their synced rymth with your hand, now thrusting desperatly for your hand to milk the last drops of cum even left in his twitching overstimualted body. “Cum baby, cum for me” you command softly, watching as his face contorted in pain and pleasure mixed together as his high crashed over him hard. Long ropes of cum shoot out, spilling over your hand and even land on his chest and thighs. He lets out some morph of a whiny sigh of relief when finally after what has felt like hours, your hand moves off his hyper sensitive cock as it twitches and softens against his cum stained stomach.
Tumblr media
→ a/n: sorry this is hella short, i have also never written much for miguel other than a wip i never posted nor even finished from a year ago soo also sorry for errors in the spanish, the little I know is rusty so
471 notes · View notes
rhysazriel · 29 days ago
Text
Kinktober Day 12: Overstimulation
Tumblr media
A/N: have a very busy day tomorrow but I’m hoping to find time to make sure I have tomorrows blurb ready. 18+ only!! Includes sexual themes and overstimulation!!
Tumblr media
Your entire body was still convulsing. Legs shaking and heart hammering, but Azriel didn’t stop. You didn’t want him to.
Your legs were on his shoulders, knees pressed to your chest as he leaned his body on the backs of your thighs to kiss you feverishly.
“Az!” Your words came out as a shriek of pleasure, his thick cock plunged deep in your cunt.
He pushed his hips harder, teeth grit tight as he fucked into you. “You can take it, baby. Give me one more.”
The coil in the pit of your stomach was strung tight and you had no idea if you’d be able to recover from another orgasm. But Azriel was relentless, your legs pinned to his liking as he ravished your pussy.
“One more big one, baby. Come on, give it to me.”
Your eyes were rolled to the back of your head, skin flushed and burning hot. The pleasure he rolled into your body was indescribable, something nothing else could ever amount to.
You’d already came three times tonight, your nipples raw and bruised from his assaults, your thighs littered with nail indents and finger prints marred into your skin.
You come hardly think straight, hardly comprehend anything that wasn’t him. Shadows swarmed you, kissing your flesh and caressing you softly. Coaxing you to orgasm, comforting your aches.
“Come on my cock, my love. You can do it.”
A final gasp tore through your lungs as you shuddered and came around him. Azriel’s own pleasure erupted as he spurted his own release. His body collapsed on yours, pinning your knees to your ears as he struggled to catch his breath.
Your entire body felt spent, not a single ounce of energy left in you to even lift a finger. You panted, desperate to regulate your breathing, to come back down from where ever the fuck you’d floated off to.
“You did so good, my love.”
588 notes · View notes