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casual-eumetazoa · 5 years ago

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thanks for the prompt @confused-android ! oof, took me longer to write this than i thought (or actually it took me like an hour but i postponed it till my exams were almost over). first - the word “enthralled”? i vibe with it. second - this kinda turned into a vaguely brotzly piece with some autism acceptance on the side, hope that’s okay. third… hope you like this! so here goes

———————

The Case of the Stolen Flower Basket (as dubbed, unofficially, by Dirk) started out on a more relaxed note than most of their cases: in a flowershop, with a stolen basket. A basket, mind you, that was stolen in broad daylight from a closed room, under mysterious circumstances.

It also started with Dirk ending up in a flowershop, accidentally, while he was trying to find an ice-cream place. And it wasn’t even a case then, as much as Dirk’s brief but intense obsession with closed room mysteries, but I digress.

Point is, a basket was missing, a basket thief was at large, and the holistic crew of the holistic detective agency found themselves in a huge abandoned storing space, following up on a “lead”. Todd, Dirk and Farah walked the damp bleak corridors, opening any block that seemed suspicious. Most of them did, and most contained a truly bizarre collection of items.

One was filled up entirely with broken IKEA furniture. One was stuffed to the brim with an assortment of left shoes. And, perhaps most unsettling, one consisted of nothing but headless dolls of various shapes and sizes, along with some disfigured plush animals.

-What the hell was this place? – Todd wondered, prying open yet another door.

Behind it was an empty space, containing exactly one chair with exactly one empty jar perched on the edge of its seat.

-The warehouse of a profoundly odd collector. – Dirk proclaimed. – He… had an excess of money, and wanted to collect things, but the normal things people collect like stamps or candy wrappers were too boring for him, so he did this instead.

-Found anything important? – Farah’s voice echoed against the crumbling walls.

-Yes! – Dirk yelled back.

-No. – Todd corrected, then turned back to Dirk. – An eccentric collector then huh? – Evidently, he had decided to entertain Dirk’s guess. – What about this one then?

He pointed at the nearest door and immediately proceeded to kick it down. It was meant to be a slight push, but instead the door caved in completely, slipping off its hinges and crashing against the floor with a deafening metal rumble.

-Sorry! – Todd bit his lip.

He saw Dirk wince and then almost shrivel up at the sound, arms pulled suddenly towards his chest, as if trying to protect himself from the noise.

Noises. Dirk did not do well with them. And Todd knew that all too well.

-Sorry. – He repeated. – I didn’t mean to do… that.

-It’s fine. – Dirk mumbled, trying his best to shake off the feeling and get back into investigative mood. – What’s in it then?

They stepped over the dilapidated door and into the tight storage space. Inside it were a few pieces of old furniture, half a dozen sealed boxes, at least a whole heap of sawdust, and…

-Todd! – Dirk really did try to tone down the enthusiasm, but alas. – Look!

First, Todd noticed Dirk’s flapping arms, and the smile on his face, and felt his own lips stretch into a grin. Only then he turned to check what was in there, and realized that the wall of the storage space was lined up with various musical instruments. Guitars, mostly; electric, acoustic, even toy ones…

-It’s your thing! – Dirk beamed.

-Yeah. – Todd agreed. – It’s my thing.

He approached the wall and picked up one of the guitars.

-It’s expensive. – He declared, and checked the instrument for any signs of wear and tear. – And new. Damn. – He went slowly through the collection. – Well, these aren’t the very top of the chain, but they’re fancier than I used to have.

He took one of the electric guitars – a slick, bright red beauty – and held it gently in his hands. He hadn’t played guitar since he bashed his last one against the wall of the Ridgley building… that happened less than a year prior, and yet it seemed a lifetime away.

-Can we take some? – Dirk asked, then, not waiting for a reply, picked out one of the guitars at random. – They’re no-ones so it doesn’t count as stealing.

-I guess I could take one or two. – Todd agreed. – They’re as good as thrown out at this point. No use for them collecting dust in here.

-Where the hell are you two? – Farah’s voice chimed through the corridor.

-Over here! – Dirk shouted back.

-Ugh. – Todd muttered. – I have to pick now. Wait. Actually… - He looked at the guitar he had in his hands, then the one Dirk was still holding, and smiled with the corner of his mouth. – Those two are good. Let’s go.

-Guys. – Farah nearly avoided a collision with the broken door as she entered the storage space. – You should see this. Now. – She paused. – I think I found a skeleton.

The guitars were then stashed in the corner, and waited patiently for their new owner to crawl on all fours into a basement, poke some human bones with a stick, and emerge – dusty, exhausted, and deeply confused.

The evening was slow and peaceful. While Farah was busy making phone calls and trying to arrange for someone to examine, discretely and unofficially, a mysterious unidentified skeleton, Todd and Dirk stayed in Todd’s apartment. Or, rather, at the apartment that used to be Todd’s. He didn’t remember the last time he had a dinner there, and besides, Dirk spent more nights than not in the guest bedroom, so it was really their apartment.

-Do you have any ideas about how the basket connects to the skeleton yet? – Todd asked, placing two cups of tea on the table.

He didn’t have to ask Dirk what he wanted; he knew his (rather narrow) range of food and drink preferences by heart.

-Not a clue. – Dirk admitted, and raised his gaze to the ceiling, staring attentively at some smudge. – I think we should go to Claire’s house.

-Why the owner’s house? – Todd asked.

-Feels relevant. – Dirk shrugged, eyes still focused on the smudge. – Oh. – He turned in his seat suddenly. – The guitars! Can you play for me?

Todd sighed. He anticipated this happening.

-Well, - he said, - I can’t play the electric one cause you need equipment for it and we didn’t steal any, and I haven’t played an acoustic guitar in like two years, but…

-I don’t care if it’s not your best or some equally stupid excuse. – Dirk interrupted him. – You know I’ll be impressed no matter what.

Todd laughed shortly, and nodded. It was true – Dirk was impressed and excited by seemingly everything, from the fluffy blanket assortment at Walmart (he had to touch every. single. one.) to the Sacred Wisdom shared with him by Todd that the number on the package of pasta tells you how long it will take to cook it. Dirk was also somehow oblivious to his own talents, insisting that connecting eleven entirely unrelated pieces of information into a complete narrative was “simple” and “obvious”.

-Fine. – Todd caved in, and got up to fetch the acoustic guitar. – But I probably won’t know the cords of the songs you like.

Considering that Dirk mostly listened to obscure European rock music, 80s pop, and Disney soundtracks, it was hardly surprising.

-Not tuned at all, probably. – Todd, the guitar now in hands, returned to his seat and gave the strings a test stroke. – Yep. – He nodded. – Gimme a few minutes.

He tuned the guitar as best as he could, and tapped his fingers on the table, trying to decide what to play. Dirk had watched him with curiosity and was now sipping his tea, waiting for the music to start. Todd paused, took a deep breath in, and began to play the first song that he was sure he remembered – “Behind Blue Eyes”.

The music flowed; Todd focused on the movement of his fingers, on the vibration of the string, and the metal at his fingertips. He sang the words softly, almost as an afterthought. He had forgotten how good it felt to make music happen. The song was in the air, brought to life by the motion of his hands, and the night was young, and he was lost in the moment. He skipped the electric guitar solo and went straight to the final reprise of the chorus.

Then the music stopped, and silence fell on his shoulders. He kept quiet, not saying anything, waiting for Dirk to react. That is when Todd realized that Dirk wasn’t talking – and Dirk was always talking. He talked over movies, and news on the TV, and shop assistants and, on one memorable occasion, over a talking parrot. It’s not that he was rude - it’s just that his head was so full of words, constantly, that they had to be let out.

But Dirk wasn’t talking now. Now he simply sat in his place, eyes transfixed on Todd’s hands, blinking.

-Are you okay? – Todd asked.

There was a pause.

-Mmm? – Dirk blinked faster and looked up, meeting Todd’s gaze, startled slightly, as if waking up from a pleasant dream. – Yes. Yes of course I’m okay.

-You kinda zoned out a little bit.

-I did?

-Yeah.

-You play really good music. – Dirk smiled softly.

-Thanks. – Todd smiled back.

-It’s nice to not be… attacked by sound for a change. – Dirk added. – Can you… keep, playing, please?

-Sure. – Todd replied. -I mean, I don’t remember that many songs, and…

He remembered enough songs for a whole mini-at-home concert.

It doesn’t end there.

Together, they spend many an evening consumed by music, music brought to life by Todd, for Dirk, specifically for Dirk, and for him only. Todd plays everything – every song he has ever loved, acoustic versions of Mexican Funeral pieces, approximate renditions of whatever is on the radio these days…

Dirk makes requests. Todd googles guitar tabs and practices while Dirk is still asleep, in the ungodly early hours of the morning, sitting on the windowsill of the apartment block while people leave for first shifts at work. He has performed in front of huge crowds, and music journalists, and many girls (and guys…) he was trying to impress – but nothing has ever felt as personal, crucial, tender, as playing for Dirk.

The skeleton is identified, and the stolen basket is discovered. The convoluted twists and turns of the story, which involves a near-extinct flower, a 77-year-old Russian spy and an actual African prince, come to their natural close. The excitement and danger are over, if only for a brief respite, and peace is restored. A new case will arrive soon enough… but until then, they have their tiny apartment, and Todd has his guitars, and music lingers in the air, and Dirk is enthralled with the music, still and speechless in his seat.

They look at each other, and they understand each other precisely, and, for once in his life, Dirk has no words, and needs no words, and wants nothing else but to listen. God knows, his life is never safe or simple, but now Todd is here, and the world is really not that bad, and he is happy.

The Earth continues to spin. New bizarre, perplexing and astonishing things will happen. Songs will be played, and words will be said in time. Maybe, in part at least, because someone ran, and never looked back, and left behind all their belongings, even their very expensive guitars…

Sometimes – most of the times – the Universe wants them to help it. But, on this occasion, it is gracious enough to help them in return.

#dghda #dirk gently's holistic detective agency #dirk gently #brotzly #autistic!dirk #actuallyautistic #dghda fanfic #paradox nerd post

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writingsbychlo · 5 years ago

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heart under construction (05)

word count; 5373

summary; sam gets to take you out on that date, and he almost messes it up, but you manage to find yrou way back to one another again.

notes; I wanna give sarah a huge thanks because she made this gif!! she made it!! i love it, so give her some love too. @dylinski is an angel.

warnings; semi-public sex, unprotected sex, heavy drinking.

Tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, Sam pouted as he continued to sit outside of the bar he’d watched you disappear into a good fifteen minutes ago, his brow furrowed. He could totally just storm in there right now, break it up, drag you out, but he really wasn’t sure how you’d react to that.

He had every chance to make a move, he’d spent the day on a date with you, and he hadn't even had the balls to fucking kiss you at the end of it. He rubbed a hand over his face, groaning as he thought back on the moment, his cowardice and the shitty excuse for a few final words he’d given, and he slumped angrily into his seat.

He couldn't see into the bar, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to. By now, you were probably curled up in a cosy little booth in the back as you sipped cocktails and let another man kiss you because he’d been too much of a fucking wimp to do it when he had the chance.

The radio hummed lowly, a song he was familiar with from playing earlier in the day beginning to creep out into the car, and he reached over, punching his finger roughly into the button on the dash to turn it off.

“I love this song!” You were practically beaming, bouncing in your seat as the two of you sped down the highway towards Ikea, and Sam reached over, cranking the volume on the music up as you turned to him, giving him a sweet smile before beginning to belt out the lyrics, carefree and happy as you sat in the car beside him.

He couldn’t help himself, but soon he was joining in, the pair of you singing at the top of your lungs to every song that came on the radio as you drove along, the pure joy buzzing around in the air around you both within the car, and the car journey flew by, Sam throwing the car into park as you both stared up at the dark blue building in excitement.

Snatching the keys from the ignition, Sam was out of the car before you had even unclipped your safety belt, and he was holding the door open for you with a cheesy wink, your laugh making it all worth it as you took his outstretched hand, allowing him to help you from the vehicle. Your arm had linked through his as you made your way to the store, the side of your body pressed up to his, and he turned his head, nudging his nose against your temple with affection.

“So, how about some lunch first, yeah?”

“Yes! I love the Ikea café!” He grinned, placing a kiss to your cheek before ushering you into the busy building, watching as you dashed ahead while following the smell of food.

You had shared a tray, letting him carry the food while you balanced the drinks in your arms, the two of you sprawling out along the comfortable leather seats as you ate. Conversation had flowed easily, from one topic to another, never slowing or becoming dull, and Sam realised he could quite literally listen to you talk about anything and not get bored.

You had forced him into people watching, the two of you giggling at people as you watched them pass by, trying to carry ridiculously large boxes of flatpack furniture, or mother's arguing with children about things they weren’t buying that the kids were absolutely insistent that they did need. You made up stories for the weird purchases you saw people buying, and you had started a competition for who could find the worst item combination someone was buying.

He had won, upon spotting someone buying a truly hideous lampshade and a clashing lamp base that he was sure had never been, and would never be, in style.

Once you had finished eating, you had grabbed one of the paper pads from the wall, the box of little pencils sitting beside it, and he had laughed at you as you grabbed a handful. You had one in your hand, one in his, before you had tucked a pencil behind your ear and one behind his, too, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you told him how much you liked to collect the mini-pencils, and he half considered just stealing the entire box for you.

His chest was practically aching from how much he had laughed, and he was sure he hadn't stopped smiling since the moment he’d picked you up, finally knowing which little house belonged to you as he leaned against his car, watching you bounce out of your house in a cute little sundress and dash down the driveway to hug him tightly. He could still feel your arms wrapped around him, the smell of your freshly applied perfume when he’d buried his face in your neck, and the fit of you in his arms when he’d hugged you back with just as much enthusiasm, swaying you from side to side.

You had trekked through the entire store, trying and testing everything from kitchen furniture to sofas. You had a list, front and back, covered in all the product codes of things that would look perfect in the house, and match the beautiful theme that had been crafted. You had lay next to Sam for a while on what you had called your ‘dream bed’, a king-size bed with drawers underneath, reading lamps fastened into the headboard and a plush mattress that he felt he might actually just sink into.

Lying on the display bed that was out, you lay next to him, staring up at the roof as your hair fanned out around you on the bed and he just watched you, admiring how much he enjoyed simply laying with you. He could picture lazy mornings with you just like this, or late nights after work when the both of you were tired. Laying in bed and cuddled up, before you spent the night curled up in his arms to sleep.

He liked this bed, a lot. He did not hesitate to write down the coding for the product so he could find it when he came back one day to pick up furniture.

Reaching out, he took your hand in his, weaving your fingers together, and you paused your aimless rambling, your head falling to the side to look at him, close enough that your breath washed over his lips as he smiled softly, and you only returned the look, squeezing his hand tightly in yours as he stared at you.

When you had been ushered on by another family wanting to look at this bed, your hand had remained locked in his, holding you close to him as you completed your journey. He had been sure to sneakily tuck three of the four small pencils you had stolen into your purse before you’d reached the door, so the member of staff asking for them back couldn’t take them. With a smile, he hadn't over the final pencil, your face burying in his shoulder to quiet your giggles as the two of you walked away across the car park, and his arm dropped to your waist to hold you close.

You had folded the little list neatly, tucking it into the front pocket of his jeans for him as you rambled on about how much you loved the coffee table he had chosen, and how perfect you thought it would look with a blue striped rug underneath it, in the centre of the living room. He wasn’t listening, instead, he grabbed you by both of your hips, pushing you up against the edge of his car as you reached it. His body was almost flush against yours as he looked down at you, your words dying in your throat as you looked up at him.

He was nervous, his heart beating against his chest, but you soon wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers toying with the slightly too-long hairs a the base of his neck as he dipped his head down, his eyes closing as he heard you let out a little gasp at his close proximity. His nose was bumping against yours, his lips so close to you that they brushed when he tilted his head, his tongue catching against your lips when he licked his own, and he felt frozen in this moment of intimacy, your heart pounding just as fast as his, he could feel it, his hands sliding from our hips to your lower back.

Your phone was buzzing absentmindedly in your purse, and he growled slightly under his breath, pulling back and clearing his throat as his nerves got the better of him, tension flooding his body as he stiffened and stepped back. “This was.. really fun. Super fun. We should hang out more often.”

Your jaw dropped at him, and he hated himself instantly.

‘We should hang out more often.’

What the fuck was that about?

You only nodded, your gaze dropping from his with dismay as you reached for the handle to the car, opening the door for yourself and climbing inside, and he watched as you clipped yourself in silently, pulling your phone from your bag to check your notifications. He stared out across the other cars, running a hand over his face and cursing at himself before rounding the car, getting into the driver’s seat and glancing at you as you replied to whatever messages you had received, your fingers flying over the keyboard and he scrambled to try and find a way to fix this, because once again he had ruined the atmosphere around you both.

“You, er, you wanna’ come back to the house? Jake is there.”

You looked up at him, the polite smile that made his gut twist uncomfortably was aimed at him as you shook your head, tucking your hair behind your ear and waving your phone at him a little. “Can’t. One of the dads from the princess prom was hoping I would get drinks, he has some questions about his kid, he has autism and he wanted to know a little more about the teaching methods, so I said yes.”

Sam felt like his skin was crawling, and he twisted the keys to start up the car, his eyes facing forward as he nodded stiffly, jaw clenched. “Right. Of course. I’ll drop you off, I suppose. Where is it?”

You gave him the address, and he tried not to snap the steering wheel. He knew that pub, he’d met some of his tinder hookups there for drinks. It was nice, it had a homey feel, and low lights and private booths. It was a date pub, you didn’t go there unless you were hoping to get some kind of action, and from your innocent smile he assumed you didn’t know that, but he was willing to bet this guy did.

The drive there was tense, and he missed the easy-going bliss that had been the drive you had shared last time. Now, the radio played quietly as he drove in silence, your body facing away from him as you looked out of the window.

If he had just had the guys to kiss you when you were right there, in the moment with him and only him, you wouldn't be going out with another guy right now, and he fucking hated it.

You had got out of the car, checking yourself in his mirrors before smoothing out your dress, and he gave you a tight smile, all while feeling like someone had pushed a hand straight into his chest and torn his heart right out of it.

“You look beautiful. You always do.”

Then, he had watched you leave, flouncing up and into the bar without looking back, mumbling a cheery ‘thanks for a great day, see you later, Sam!’ and you were gone. This hadn't been how he wanted the day to end, and the second you were gone, he threw the car into park, staring at where you had gone, hoping you might come back out, saying you changed your mind, that you wanted to be with him instead and that whoever was waiting inside of you could get lost. But you didn’t, and Sam sniffed, wiping angrily at his eyes and punching at his steering wheel in his rage as he sat in his seat, defeated.

This was exactly why Sam Taylor didn’t do relationships.

As the clock ticked over into twenty minutes, he decided to let his rage cover his drowning grief over the situation as he forced the car back into action, pulling away from the curbside and onto the road, scowling at himself and his life as he headed for his destination. It was another fifteen minutes before he was slamming his car door shut, not even bothering to lock it from the half-assed job he’d done of parking on the driveway before he was storming into the house with the heavy box tucked under his arm, glass bottles jingling with his hurried steps.

Slamming the front door shut behind himself, he heard Jake curse, choosing to ignore it as he stormed up the stairs, straight past his brother who had excitedly come to ask him how it went, and made his way to the top floor. Dropping the box on the balcony floor, he used his keys to tear it open, shoving them deep into his pocket before taking one of the beers from inside, uncapping it quickly and dropping to the floor with a huff. Raising the bottle to his lips, he chugged a good half of the contents of the bottle before he even bothered to kick off his shoes, or take off his jacket.

Once he was finished with the first bottle, he placed it neatly before him, dragging a hand over his face and finally turning to face his brother, who was texting avidly with a concerned look on his face. “You want to tell me what happened?”

“No.”

“Do you want me to leave?” Jake pressed, standing up from where he was leaning in the doorway and Sam bit down on his bottom lip, before reaching into his crate of beers and pulling out two more bottles, offering one to his brother.

“No.”

Jake accepted it, the two of them sitting in silence for a while, and Sam adjusted himself to stare out at the horizon. Pastel shades decorate the horizon, the sun burning brightly as the last of the shimmering air floating began to settle down, and neither man spoke until long after the sun had sunk below the horizon. Jake was still nursing the same bottle of beer, concernedly watching his brother, who was now on his fifth, and gripping the almost empty bottle in a grip so tight his knuckles were white.

When a cool breeze indicative of the night closing in swept over them both, Sam sighed loudly, swilling the rest of the beer in the bottle around before downing it, turning to face him with tears lining his eyes. “She’s on a date. With another guy. Because I’m a fucking coward.”

“That’s not fair, you’re not a coward!”

Sam scoffed, rolling his eyes and tilting his head back to look at the final fading shades of colour on the horizon as deep blue and black took over, sparkling stars in the clear sky shining out brightly. “I didn’t kiss her. She was right there, it was so clearly a date, and she was letting me kiss her, and I didn’t. I said ‘we should hang out more often’.”

“You’re a fucking moron.”

“I know that, Jake.” He growled his words out, eyes narrowing in a glare as he looked at his brother and Jake shrugged, finishing his beer and adding it to the collection before them. The distant sound of a car door slamming caught both of their attention, the much louder sound of the front door slamming made both of them sit upright, until the hushed giggling of a very familiar void caught their attention.

Turning to look back at the stairs, they glanced through the open glass door to see you hauling yourself up the stairs, a dopey and elated smile on your face as you tripped and stumbled, finally reaching the top and finding the confused faces of both the males looking at you.

“I had a thought!” You announced loudly, making your way toward the open balcony and standing in the doorway, staring at the horizon. “If you swapped the first letters of your names, you would be ‘Sake’ and ‘Jam’. You could use both names in a sentence. Like, for fuck’s sake, where’s the jam?”

You cracked up giggling at yourself, your body swaying slightly and Sam simply stared at you, Jake hopping to his feet as his hands landed on your shoulders. “How much did you drink?”

“A fair amount.” You beamed, tapping at Jake’s nose with the tip of your finger, before your eyes dropped down, widening and filling with joy as though you’d only just remembered that Sam was there. “Sam! Hi! I missed the sunset, but I want to watch the stars. Can we watch the stars?”

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” His words were slurred and he watched as you dropped yourself down onto the floor beside him, shuffling yourself along the wall to get comfortable and he used his foot to nudge the half-empty box towards you. “Beer?”

“Love one, thanks.”

“Right, well, I’m leaving. Good luck with your hangovers!” Jake sighed, shaking his head fondly at the both of you as he grabbed his jacket, making his way down the stairs and leaving the both of you in silence. Sam waited until he heard the engine of Jake’s truck spark up, pulling out of the driveway and setting off before he finally swallowed down his pride and turned to you.

“You seem happy. Did your date go well?” He could hear the venom in his own voice as he spat out his own words, but he was too drunk to care, and it would seem that you were decidedly drunk too, because you turned to him, practically beaming as you shook your head.

“It was absolutely atrocious.” You shook your head, sipping at the bitter beverage you held before leaning forward, stacking all the empty bottles up into a pyramid, rather content with your creation before you glanced at him over your shoulder. “I don’t think you want to hear about that though, do you?”

He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut before plastering a smile on his face and looking at you. “I’m trying to be a supportive friend. You can talk to me, tell me all about your date.”

“Okay, well, he sat way too close to me and was wearing far too much cologne, and he stared at my tits, like, the entire night, and then he tried to kiss me when I was getting in a taxi.”

Sam winced, taking large gulps of his drink. “You’re right, I didn’t want to hear that.”

“Why are you drinking?” You questioned carefully, and he sighed, taking another sip before biting down on his bottom lip.

“Because I didn’t kiss you when I had the chance.” He picked at the label on the bottle, coming away with the slight condensation on the cold glass. “Why did you drink?”

“Because you didn’t kiss me when you had the chance.” Your reply was not what Sam had expected, and he looked at you carefully, watching as you chewed on your lower lip. Reaching over, he took your bottle from your hands, placing it on the cold stone with his own, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, using his thumb to pull your lip from its prison as he ran the pad delicately over it.

“Did you kiss him?”

“No.”

“Good.” With that, he gave up on his hesitations and fears, leaning forward to press his lips to yours in a delicate kiss, a surprised gasp leaving you as his nose bumped against yours. He could sense your surprise, your body stiffening under his hold, before you relaxed, fingers lacing into his hair and holding him tightly to you as you returned the affections and he thought his heart might actually burst from his chest this time. “I’ve been wanting to do that pretty much since I met you.”

His words were mumbled against your lips, and you giggled, nodding in agreement as your foreheads pressed together. “Please do that again.”

“With pleasure.” This time, he was more confident, his lips slanting over yours with force, his hands sliding down from your face to your hips, your fingers tightening in his hair. He was soon nibbling at your lower lip, your lips parting for him as his tongue slipped into your mouth, playing with your own.

It was messy, and sloppy, and a combination of whimpers and moans as the two of you pawed at one another. Your fingers slid down, nails dragging through his scruffy beard and eliciting a growl from him before landing on his chest, curling the material of his shirt up into fists and your hands scrunched up.

The kiss was dominating, and rough, the two of you panting into one another's mouths as your skin burned deliciously from his assault on your mouth and the stubble on his cheeks. The hands on your hips tightened as you shifted, and without pulling away from your mouth, he navigated you, lifting you carefully from your position and all but dragging you into his lap, large palms on your thighs guiding you until you had a leg on either side of his.

Your foot caught on one of the bottles, the glass clinking and fizzing sounding in the air as liquid spilt from the bottle, running in streams towards the edge of the platform and dripping away to the ground so far below. The two of you snapped apart, chests heaving as you giggled at the spilt bottle. “I’m sorry I knocked over your beer.”

“If I ever care about spilt beer more than having you in my lap, I want you to shoot me.” He muttered, trailing kisses along your neck, and your chest shook with silent laughs, soon replaced with moans as he began to leave wet trails along your skin, sucking and nipping at your flesh as he left little red marks dotted along your flesh.

“You say that like I’ll be in your lap often.”

“I sure hope you will. My lap is exactly where you belong. Or by my side. Or under me. As long as you’re with me, I really don’t care.” He groaned as your hand slipped back into his hair, tugging harshly until he left your collarbones, your lips landing back on his and he hummed happily, parting his lips the second he felt you trying to lick your way into his mouth.

His fingers dug into your thighs, so tightly they’d leave marks and his hips bucked up involuntarily into yours, moans falling from both of you at the action and you returned the gesture by rolling his hips down into his. A strangled sound left him, and he could feel your grin against his lips as he sloppily worked his mouth with yours.

You did it again, harder, and he let out a low growl, his hands sliding to your hips to try and still you, and you only pressed down harder into him in return. His cock twitched, hardening rapidly as the sounds you made for him reached his ears, the feeling of you in his lap driving him wild. “Sweetheart, if you don’t stop then I’m going to lose all self-control, and I don’t think you want that.”

His voice was low, scratchy and raw as he tried to suck in desperate breaths between stealing kisses as your nails raked down his chest and over his stomach. “You know what I want? I want to know what it’s like to be fucked on a balcony.”

“Oh, shit..” Sam whimpered, his eyes sliding shut as he tipped his head up to catch your lips in a passionate kiss, swollen lips stinging pleasurably, your fingers playing with his belt buckle as you undid it, his hips lifting up and grinding into your covered core under your skirt as he helped you tug the belt free to be discarded. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel pressured, or forced, or like we’re moving too fast an-”

“Sam, stop being scared. Why are you so worried about being so intimate with me?” Your eyes searched his, and he swallowed thickly.

“Because you’re not like the girls I’m normally with, and I don’t want you to feel like you are.”

“Hell of a line there, Taylor.” You smirked, pecking his lips before trailing kisses along his jaw, your fingers swiftly undoing the button on his jeans as you knelt over him, kissing at his neck and yanking the zipper down far enough to slip your hand into his jeans.

“Not a line, just the truth. You’re special to me.” He panted, his hips rolling up as he thrust into your hand, your fingers tracing his hard cock through his underwear as you squeezed at him, palming and rubbing his member until he couldn’t take it anymore. Taking his hand in your own, you lifted the edge of your dress, taking his fingertips and dragging them along your drenched panties, a deep sound rumbling in his chest as he took control, swirling his fingers around your swollen clit through the material. “Shit, sweetheart, you’re drenched.”

“That’s what you do to me.” You let out a cry as he pushed down on your clit roughly, a sly smirk covering his features, and he used his thumb to drag the sodden material to the side, swiping two fingers through your slick folds to part them, nudging against your clit as you moaned his name loudly for him. Easing a single finger into him, your hand shook from where you were teasing him through his boxers, your nails dragging against him through the material the second he slipped the second digit into you, joint noises of pleasure leaving you both.

He pumped his fingers faster, scissoring them and revelling in the wet sounds he could make with your juices as he fucked his fingers into you quickly. Your hips were rolling down into his hand, your mouth pressed to his in a series of frantic kisses as you whispered each other's names into your connected mouths, your hand tightening around him as he brushed against your g-spot. “Please, sweetheart, this is fucking torture.”

“You’re needy.” You teased, and he scoffed, but the sound came out more like a whine as you finally pulled back your hand.

“I’m only needy for you. Now please, just let me fuck you, honey.”

“Okay.” You looped your fingers into his belt loops, tugging the material of his jeans down until they were low enough to release his cock, a hiss leaving him as the cold air swept over him. Throbbing and red, precum oozed from the slit on his head and you let out a whimper at the sight, a strained chuckle leaving him. Inching forward, you leaned down, your fingers wrapping around him gently to line him up with your dripping core before you were sinking yourself down onto him.

Cries of joy left both of you, your foreheads pressed together and Sam could feel your breath panting over his cheek as your jaw hung slack, until your hips were seated snugly together. “You’re so tight, holy fuck.” He felt like the words were wheezed out of him, and he knew you could feel every throw and pulse of his cock between your walls because he could feel every flutter and squeeze you gave him. “M’ so not gonna’ last long.”

“Me either.” You whispered, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before steadying your hands on his shoulder, his fingers flexing on his hips and he choked back a moan as you adjusted yourself rising up on your hips before slamming back down onto him, your eyes rolling back as his lips parted, a sigh leaving him as he thrust up a little to meet you the second time.

Adjusting yourself, you reached one hand out to grip onto the cold metal of the railing beside you, and your other was digging marks into his shoulder, even through the layers of material covering him. Tugging at the hem of your dress, he pushed it up until he had it bunched around your waist, watching the place where your panties were pushed to the side, his cock sliding into and out of your slick hole, covered in your juices and glistening in the night light.

He licked at the pad of his thumb, dropping it to rub rapid circles onto your clit as you squeaked, hips bucking against his with more force and speed as your body became weak, your walls clenching around him so tightly he could barely thrust up into you. You were shaking above him, crying out his name.

“K-Keep doing that.” You licked over your lips, and he grinned, picking up the speed as you locked your hips down into him, both of you spiralling towards your edges as you moved together in lazy but frantic movements, your bodies slamming together as each thrusted connection rocked you both, your nerves on fire. He could feel it in the pit of his belly, just watching you become unravelled above him, his name spilling from your lips in near screams as you pleased yourself on his cock, and he knew he was close.

“Gonna’ cum for me, honey? C’mon, I can feel how close you are. Let me fill you up, just cum for me, sweetheart.”

You nodded, a scream of his name tearing from your lips as bliss took over your body, your hands shakily finding his jaw. You moaned into his mouth, your tongues tangling together as you came, and he gripped onto you just as tightly, his cock twitching before he was breaking, falling over the edge with you and spattering your walls with streams of hot cum, a cry of your name carrying him over the edge.

You continued to move slowly through your highs, before you finally slumped against his chest, your skin shining with a thin layer of sweat, like his, despite the cool night breeze that was brushing over your both as you pressed together. Your arms were looped around his neck, his around your waist as he nuzzled into your neck, holding you close. “That was fucking incredible.” He mumbled, and you laughed tiredly, pulling back to kiss him softly, your fingers carding through his hair soothingly.

“Yeah, it really was.”

Silence overtook the two of you for a few minutes, nothing but the panting you made as you tried to slow your racing hearts and calm your breathing sounded out, until he groaned lowly, your fingers catching on a piece of hair and tugging a little. His cock, still buried within you, twitched in urgency as his half-hard dick seemed to be springing into action once again, and Sam could feel heat crawling up his cheeks as you giggled at him.

“Already?”

“Can’t help it, I’ve wanted this for a long time.” He mumbled, pouting his lips and growling as you purposefully swivelled your hips, clenching around him as you leaned in to kiss him, your teasing laugh at your actions making it more of a messy exchange of lips and tongues than a passionate kiss.

“How about we see what it’s like when you do me up against the wall inside, then?” You winked down at him, wiggling your eyebrows as his hands slid around under your ass, scooping you up in his arms as he stumbled to his feet, cock still nestled deep within you as you clung to him and laughed.

“Fuck, yes.”

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