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billthedrake · 9 months ago

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SUGAR DADDY (PART ONE)

I was cooling down from my run, and I was paying more attention to the traffic light to cross. I almost didn't see them.

But the man saw me, a look of embarrassment sweeping his face before the familiar friendly tone won out.

"Luke?" he said.

"Mr. Keenan," I replied automatically, as if the recognition was coming out of my mouth before it hit my brain. Mr. Keenan was my buddy Rich's dad, a successful corporate lawyer or something. I know Rich had issues with his father, made even worse by his parent's divorce, but Mr. K was always beyond nice to me. And truth be told, I always found him incredibly attractive. Tall, handsome, salt and pepper coming in on the temples, kind of like a TV dad. Even now he was in a nice-cut navy suit, dress shirt and no tie.

His blue eyes were taking me in. It had been over three years since I'd last seen the man, since high school graduation, and I'm sure I looked different now. "I almost forgot you went to school here," he said. "Georgetown?" he prompted.

"Yes, sir. They haven't kicked me out yet," I smiled in my self-deprecating way.

It was then that I noticed the woman standing next to him. She couldn't have been any older than me. She was pretty, real pretty, with that sorority girl look. Straight blond hair and big tits for a girl with her trim frame. At least they showed off well in that spaghetti strap cocktail dress she had on. Her high heels didn't get her close to Mr. K's 6'3" height but they added a couple of inches.

I now had a pretty good idea why Rich's parents got divorced.

The man's date was good at hiding her annoyance at my presence but not good enough that I couldn't see that she wanted to get on to where they were going. Part of me couldn't blame her. It was fall, the evening was cool, and she was underdressed for it.

Mike Keenan realized where I was looking and that embarrassed look came back on his face. "Luke, this is Kimberly..." he turned to his girlfriend or date or whatever. "Luke's from back home," he explained. Almost with an emphasis of meaning.

Turning back to me. "We should go, buddy... but it's great running into you, Luke."

"You, too, Mr. Keenan," I said. It was only then that I was self conscious about standing on a busy Georgetown sidewalk in my sweat-drenched running clothes, the cool getting to me now that the exercise was wearing off.

He flashed his trademark smile, like he always did when I came over. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, deftly extracting a business card. "I'm in DC a few nights a week these days. Reach out and we'll catch up, OK?"

"Sure thing, Mr. K," I said, taking the card in my fingers.

Then I watched as my friend's dad and his college-aged girlfriend went walking on to their date spot.

****

"I was gonna ask if you can keep things under wraps about Kimberly," Mr. Keenan said as we waited for our burger at a nice but not overly fancy bistro that DC seemed to have a ton of. I'd met Mr. K closer to his hotel, just two nights after running into him.

"Oh yeah, sure," I said. If the man had asked me to give an alibi to the police for something I probably would have. I mean, Mike Keenan always was great to me, encouraging me in my baseball playing and even helping me out with college admissions stuff, since my folks were more blue collar. His dating life was really none of my business, but I felt like it was conversation worthy. "How long have you two been dating?"

He squirmed in his seat and sighed. "A while... not too long..." he said then gave me a long hard look. "Listen, Luke, you can keep this between us, right?"

The blue eyes and handsome jawline and perfect teeth were gonna make me crush out a little on the man, like I did back in high school. "Absolutely," I replied. Earnest as hell.

He smiled. He could read my sincerity, and I think it amused him. He leaned back and had a soft leer on his face, a side of him I'd never seen. "She's not my girlfriend," he explained. "I met her on one of those sugar daddy sites."

I may have been a dumb jock, but I figured out what he meant pretty quick. "You mean she's a hooker?" I asked. I had to laugh, and Mr. K laughed back.

"No, well, not exactly," he replied. "But there's a little of that, even if we both pretend that's not what's going on." His eyes searched out mine, and I knew he was trying to read if I was freaked out or judgmental. I wasn't, just surprised.

I tried to pass off my shock with a joke. "She expensive?" I said.

He grinned, with a I-can't-believe-you-asked-that look. But he replied anyway. "Very. But I can afford it."

Something about his tone and lecherous nature got me hard. Not chubbed, but full on erect in my jeans.

The man mistook my horniness for a different reaction. "Sorry Luke," he said. "I shouldn't have said that... only you asked."

"No, it's good," I assured him. "Just didn't expect it, is all."

"Fair," he said. He sighed again. "Seriously, Luke, not a fucking word to Rich. Or anyone. I mean it."

"I won't, Mr. K, promise," I assured him. He probably didn't want to talk about it anymore, but I was very curious. "So... how's it work exactly?"

"How's what work?"

"The sugar daddy thing."

He seemed more businesslike. Maybe he enjoyed being able to confide, or maybe he just was humoring me. "I pay for Kimberly's apartment and of course for dates," he explained. "There are gifts, too, but she doesn't make me jump through hoops like some of the others."

I was letting it sink in that this one wasn't Mr. K's first. I knew the guy was loaded, but that kind of money was wild to me.

"Damn, I should get a sugar daddy," I joked.

Without missing a beat, Mr. Keenan shrugged his shoulders and said, "You could. If that's what you wanted."

I blushed. I was still pretty closeted though Rich Keenan knew. Maybe Mike Keenan knew too.

The man seemed to enjoy catching me off guard. "A colleague of mine goes for high-class call boys, but I've been trying to convince him to go for something more legit." This was definitely a new side to Mike Keenan than I'd seen.

He paused. "Sorry, Luke. I'm not really suggesting... You know that, right?" The old Mr. K was back.

"Yeah, Mr. Keenan," I said. I wasn't totally naive, but this evening had already made me feel more green than I wanted.

He held up his empty rocks glass in a gesture for the bartender to bring another. He then turned to me. "You have any special men in your life?"

So Mr. K did know.

I shook my head. "I've hit the apps some," I said with candor. "But no one special."

He patted me on my shoulder, like he used to back when I'd come over to visit Rich. Like a buddy or a dad. "Well, you've grown into a fine young man, Luke Bowman. I'm sure that someone special will come soon... maybe when you're not expecting it."

OK, I was more than a little crushed out.

***

Something about seeing Mr. Keenan was a spark in my life that I needed. I'd spent too much of my college years scared. Scared of getting out there, of meeting men. I liked men who were older. Coach types, though that was out of bounds and not realistic. But I changed the age range on my app profile and decided I was going to be open to engaging with men who turned me on there.

It was hit or miss. I heard from some real obnoxious guys. I went on some dates with a really fucking hot doctor who was great sex but then basically ghosted me. I had a couple of hookups that were good for what they were.

I wasn't being a man-whore exactly, but I enjoyed making up for lost time a little.

Strangely Mr. K became my confidante. I don't know why I thought the man would be homophobic, hell maybe deep down he was, but we each shared a secret with the other. And once he was back in DC for business that spring, I met him every other Wednesday for burgers and beer, depending on my game schedule. I got the increasing feeling that he valued his time with me, since he and Rich didn't get along well these days. The man carried a lot of guilt for his broken marriage, but he'd be the first to admit that he'd probably do the same thing all over again.

"Buddy, college girls are the best," he leered one Spring night as we finished our meal. Mr. K let his hair down a LOT with me these days. "I know they don't do anything for ya, Luke, but Jesus, fuck..."

I laughed. I knew Mike Keenan was a grade-A horndog and probably not a good man in that way, but I enjoyed seeing his naughty side.

"You ever think about dating one for real, Mr. K?" I asked. For most of our meetings, it had been mostly my buddy's dad asking me about my life, but it was just now getting to the point where I felt like I could ask personal questions like this.

He shook his head. "It wouldn't work. Besides, I wouldn't do that to Rich." It was a strangely profound admission.

I gulped. Yeah, I could see it from my buddy's perspective, having a stepmother his age, or younger even.

"That's cool, Mr. Keenan. But you gotta live your life, too," I said.

That caught the man off guard. He looked at me then smiled. He reached over and ruffled my hair. "You really think that, dont ya?" he asked.

I nodded, embarrassed.

He grinned. "Don't worry, kiddo. I'm enjoying my middle age years. A little too much."

"With Kimberly?" I prompted. He hadn't mentioned her in a while.

"I called off that arrangement," he said bluntly. "She wanted more."

"A ring?" I laughed. I didn't get straight people, not really, but at the same time they were my entire world.

That leer returned to the man. "No. More money. I'm taking a break for now."

"How long will that last?" I teased.

"Dunno. A month. Maybe two. Till I get horny again."

"I'm pretty sure you wouldn't have to wait that long to get laid, Mr. K."

It was meant as a playful comment, at least in my head. But the second it came out I realized I'd said too much. That Mr. Keenan could read everything in my face, everything I'd kept hidden. How attracted I was to him, how crushed out I was on him, how jealous I was of Kimberly or whatever sorority chick he was banging.

The look on the man's face could now see it all.

Tears welled up in my eyes and I started getting a panic attack. I stood up from the bar stool. "I should go," I said.

A hand reached out and gripped my forearm. Mr. K's grip was surprisingly strong. "Luke. It's OK."

Somehow, his understanding made it worse. I shook my head and broke free. "Sorry," I muttered. Then made a beeline for the door.

I felt dumb and intensely vulnerable as I walked to the bus stop. I'd messed up this friendship thing I had with Mike Keenan, but maybe it was fucked up that I was hanging out with my friend's dad like this in the first place. No maybe about it: it was majorly fucked up.

I was a block away from the stop when I got a text.

"Can I convince you to come back, Luke?" the man wrote. "I get it buddy."

I knew the smart thing would be to keep walking. To send a polite no thanks reply. Or just ignore the text. Instead I typed. "Yes Mr. K." And I walked back to the restaurant.

Mike Keenan was standing outside, looking handsome as fuck in his expensive suit. He had a worried look on his face, and I knew immediately he'd dashed out after me but didn't know which way I went.

His face brightened when he saw me. "We don't have to stay here," he said. "I settled up."

"Oh," I said. "Sorry..." I started to apologize, but he stopped me.

"You were honest," he said directly, blunt but still friendly. "Besides, what man doesn't like to hear he's attractive?"

I gave a wan smile and hunched my shoulders in a shrug. "A lot of straight men, I imagine."

I couldn't tell if Mike Keenan was just humoring me. He had a look of sympathy on his face for sure as he reached out and patted my arm. "How bout this? No labels between us, Luke?"

I didn't get what he was saying exactly, but I knew it was meant to reassure me. I nodded.

"Feel like coming to my hotel?" he asked. "We can just talk."

"Yeah." I was feeling a ton of emotions coursing through me. But I wanted more Mr. K time. "Sounds nice."

That seemed to relax him and put him in a good mood as we walked the few blocks to the nice, business-class residence hotel where he was staying. I couldn't help but sneak looks over his way. He just looked incredible in his suit, not a trim cut one like younger guys sometimes wore but it still flattered his build and height. In my mind, the suit made him look like one of those DC power players and in some messed up way that turned me on.

We weren't too chatty as he led me up to his room. It was fancy to my eyes but had that empty aura that hotel rooms do, even if Mr. K's luggage and belongings were around.

I was looking around the place when the man stepped up right behind me and wrapped his arms around my midsection. I smelled his cologne and felt his kisses along my neck. I guess we were going to do more than just talk.

"Oh, God, Mr. K," I hissed. This probably a record time for how fast I could throw hard. That boner was nearly instant.

"You can call me Mike," he said.

"OK," I said dumbly.

His hands traveled up and down my T-shirt. I was primed to be turned on by this man, but he was going to put me in heat.

"You OK with this, buddy?"

"You have no idea, Mist.. Mike" I replied.

My slip up got a chuckle from him. His fingers slipped beneath the hem of my shirt and the touch of his hand against my belly felt electric. "You have an amazing body, Luke."

"You too, sir," I replied.

He kissed some more along my neck and his voice got deeper, hoarser. "Do you suck cock, Luke Bowman?"

The grunt from the man was an indication I'd said the right thing. "I don't know that I'm good for all the other stuff," he said, "but I'd REALLY love to feel your mouth on me, buddy."

I knew what he meant. The man wasn't going to reciprocate, and I'd have to be fine with that. I was. "I don't need anything in return, Mike," I said. "I want to suck you."

He had that huge horndog grin on his face when I finally turned to face him. We were matched in height but he felt like my opposite in so many ways. Older, successful in his career, straight, though I was getting the fuller meaning of his "no labels" comment.

Especially as his face inched in and his lips met mine. I was kissing Rich Keenan's dad and the forbidden nature of that just added to my thrill. I took a second to feel up his sides, under the suit coat. Mr. K didn't object, he just went deeper with the kiss. Mike Keenan was a great kisser.

"You're a very handsome young man," Mr. K finally said as he pulled back.

"God, Mike," I grunted. This was every JO fantasy I'd had coming to life.

With that naughty look on his face, he reached down and started unzipping. I didn't even look down, not yet, but I could tell from his shoulder motion that he was hauling out his cock.

"Please, buddy," he hissed.

"Here?" I asked dumbly. In my hookups before BJs had been naked and on a bed.

"Here," he growled. This was that other side of Mr. K, the kind who hired sugar babies to get his needs taken care of.

I squatted down. I was a catcher for the Hoyas baseball team, so at least I had this motion down, I thought to myself.

Mike Keenan's cock was gorgeous. Big and meaty and cut but not overly long. It jerked and pulsed as he looked down on me.

"You done this before, right?" he asked. That concerned paternal voice coming out.

I nodded. "Some," I replied. "I wish I had more practice." Then with an honesty I probably shouldn't have had, I added, "I want this to be good for you, Mike."

He chucked and moved his hand to run through my hair. It was strangely affectionate. "You'll do great, buddy."

That was all the encouragement I needed. Leaning in, I could smell the mild, natural musk of a man's crotch, which was matched by Mr. K's saltiness as I began licking him. I gripped the base of his prick to steady it for my sucking, but I maybe didn't even need to do that. Mike was rock hard.

"Yes..." he hissed as I went down on him. I was still pretty green at sucking cock, but I was probably better than Kimberly or whatever sugar baby he'd lined up in the past. Or even the former Mrs. Keenan, I thought crudely.

That knowledge had me going for it. I swallowed four inches of the man in one go, held just a second to let my throat get used to it. Then I started going up and down. It took a second for me to get my rhythm and another for me to get the suction. But I knew I did by the urgency of the man's fingers in my hair, not exactly pushing me down on his crotch but aiding and guiding me in my bobbing motion. He was probably thinking of some chick while I blew him, but I was OK with that.

Only his next words broke me of that idea. "Luke, buddy... you're getting me there," he hissed. Mr. K was very present in this blowjob. I paused a second and looked up at him, and could see he was looking down at me.

I wanted to get him off. So I looked back forward and went for it. The best I could deliver. I hoped it was enough.

The fingers grew tighter. "Gonna cum... Don't pull off," Mike growled. "Please."

At that moment I felt bad for straight men. Even if I should have felt bad that Mr. K wasn't gonna suck me. I just felt any woman was stupid not to want to swallow Mike Keenan's cum.

"UNNFH!" came the sound of his release as he flooded my mouth and throat with his salty-sweet cum. Maybe Mike was backed up, but he was a heavy shooter all right. I accepted it all, swallowing it in waves as quickly as he fed it to me. I think my sucking sensation only added to his orgasm. He finally pulled out, prick wet and still hard.

"God fucking damn, buddy, that was great," he said with a satisfied smile. Then as he caught his breath and I stood up, he added, "Can I jerk you off or anything?"

That sounded great. "You got any lube?"

He nodded and walked over to the bathroom to root around his toiletries bag. He stepped back in, his prick softer but still sticking out. With a grin, he tossed me travel container of lube. "Don't be shy," he said.

I was already undoing my shorts, which fell to the floor. Then I peeled down my underwear, letting Mike see my hardon. It was a trip for me, being mostly naked in front of him. Maybe he wasn't gonna be fully gay for me, but he was open to seeing my dick as I squirted the liquid on my stalk and start stroking.

With a grin he stepped up to me, a little to the side, placing his hand on my belly and working up beneath my shirt as he met me for a kiss.

That's all it took. I didn't come instantly but instantly I began that climb to orgasm. Mr. Keenan's kiss and touch was the extra stimulation to get me there.

I moaned into his mouth as I shot my cum, shooting out onto the hotel carpet.

He broke the kiss when I was done and patted my chest. "You needed that, buddy," he said with satisfaction.

"I did," I nodded. "Thanks."

Things felt a little awkward now. I'd crossed some major lines with this guy that evening, and now that I'd gotten off I felt majorly self conscious about it.

"You OK, Luke?" he asked as we tucked back in.

"I'm OK, Mr. Keenan."

"You can NEVER tell Rich about what just happened," he said.

"You know I'm gonna keep everything private," I said. "You can trust me."

He nodded. "Why don't you get cleaned up. Feel like a drink? I have some scotch here or you can raid the mini bar."

I nodded. "I don't know anything about scotch, but you can teach me."

He chuckled. "All right."

It felt nice to just talk. Mr. K let me open up, about men and being gay and what I really wanted from dating and sex. The man talked about his very limited experience with guys when he was a teen.

"I should have figured men would be better at giving head," he said with a playful leer. "That was incredible, Luke. For real."

"I'm glad," I said. Maybe this wasn't a healthy hookup, but it had felt incredibly satisfying for me, a dream come true.

"You're going to make some dude VERY happy," he said with a smile.

"I hope so," I said with a defensive chuckle. "I hope he makes me happy too."

Mr. Keenan got what I meant. "Yeah, you deserve that," he said a little chastised. He polished off the last of his liquor in the rocks glass. "Listen, it's been a long day."

"Yeah, I'll head off," I said, drinking the rest of my scotch and standing up.

Mr. K pulled his walled out and fished out a couple of twenties. "Here you go... you're not taking the bus back. Especially at this hour."

I tried not to take it. "It's Ok, Mike," I said.

He shook his head. "Just get a fucking Uber, Luke. I insist."

"OK," I said, capitulating. The man could be bossy, and I didn't know whether I liked that or not.

He was quieter now, as he led me to the door but he said before I stepped out. "I'm gonna sleep like a baby tonight, buddy. Thanks."

"You too, sir."

#drakestories

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insomniac4000 · 4 months ago

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Jelly Legs- ArthurTV

Becoming a camerawoman for ChrisMD meant two things;

Standing out in all weathers for hours on end watching people try to shoot a ball into the net and

Trying not to stare at ArthurTV while doing number one.

You were first introduced to Arthur on your first day on the job, you were obviously nervous but professional and found it sweet Arthur spent his down time when he wasn’t taking part in the video, asking you questions. It was a ritual now, after shooting had wrapped for the day Arthur would stop for you a chat, one of his questions was always ‘what are you doing after this?’ so you would tell him your plans whether it be with some friends or mostly going home and edit the photos from the shoot before watching some Netflix and Arthur’s response would always be ‘cool,’ and a nod before he stuttered and walked off to speak to Chris.

“Do you mind that Arthur has a crush on your videographer?” George asked when him and Chris were getting into an Uber to go home after another very long shoot. Your day was far from over still, you had to take the equipment back to the office and back up the SD cards before heading home.

“Nope, it’s been what? Eight months now and it’s still the exact same routine, he stares at her, talks to her about animal mating rituals, she follows him around with a camera for apparent content,�� Chris said doing the finger quotes before continuing “Then he asks her what she’s doing that evening but never follows it up with oh you’re not doing anything? Maybe we could go out? There’s nothing to be worried about, Arthur is a man of habit,” the small man explained as he played with his phone. George nodded in agreement but just because he agreed with it didn’t necessarily mean that was the way it had to be.

“Has she said anything to you about possibly liking him back?” George asked raising his scarred eyebrow.

“No, I don’t know a ton about her outside of work, she tends to keep things professional mostly. I know she loved science fiction films so they’d be a good pairing in that sense,” Chris replied with a shrug and George nodded.

“When’s the next time you’re going out with your team? Let’s invite her along, I think it’s time you got to know her a little bit more socially,” George suggested and Chris nodded, just because he was unlucky in love didn’t mean he wasn’t willing to help out a friend.

“So if you fancy is we’re all going to go out for dinner and then some drink’s next Friday?” Chris asked you the next time you were both in the office, setting the wheels of the plan in motion.

“Oh wow, yeah sounds good,” you nodded before looking back to your screen.

“Really? Okay great,” Chris replied and you looked at him a little and frowned.

“Unless you were just asking me to be polite…”

“Oh no no no! It’s just, I wasn’t expecting you to say yes so quickly. I’ve kind of noticed you tend to keep to yourself quite often. Its one of the reasons why we’re doing this actually, to get to know everyone outside of work, I like to think it’s quite cool and relaxed here and I’m not some horrible slave driver boss,” Chris explained and you nodded. You did keep to yourself often and people had sometimes pegged you as unfriendly when you were simply unsure.

“Sure, it sounds good,” you smiled and Chris nodded before adding the line that made your heart thump a little.

“George and Arthur will be there too,” You needed a new outfit.

After work that day you went shopping, it wasn’t your favourite thing to do in the world and it was something you could do quite quickly, it was often the case that whenever you had money and needed to buy something there was never anything, here you now were in Westfield trudging through each shop in a desperate attempt to try and find something that made her look good but also make it look like she wasn’t making too much of an effort. She picked up a black cami with a floral pattern and lace trim, feeling the material between her fingers, maybe this would work some jeans? Suddenly she heard a voice the other side of her which sent chills right down to her bone.

“You know you suit dresses a lot more,” the dark voice said in a low tone, you froze and kept trying to tell yourself that this couldn’t be happening, there was no way he was here, it all had to be a misunderstanding, a terrible one at that.

You finally mustered the courage to look up and there he was in front of you, the one person you never wanted to see ever again in your life, the person who you thought you would never see again, sure the legal side of things had ended but perhaps naively you thought he wasn’t so stupid that he would seek you out and talk to you again. You pulled the hanger with the top on it from the rail and marched to the till, hoping that human interaction with someone else could firstly, cause him to back off and secondly it would stop you from bursting into tears. You bought the top but it only kept the tears at bay for those five minutes as the second you left the shop they started to flow. Your vision was blurry from tears no matter how hard you tried to wipe them away as they were being replaced so quickly. You could see a man approach you and you started to panic, your breath quickened in pace and you started to wheeze ever so slightly, feeling the intense squeezing sensation in your chest, a panic attack. You hadn’t had one of these in over four months, you were doing so well. The figure got closet but you noticed the hair wasn’t long and brown so it couldn’t have been him. But he was a big guy, you could tell he was definitely a gym bunny, it wasn’t until you could hear his voice that you started to relax.

“Y/N, Y/N it’s me Reev, what’s happened? Are you okay? Let’s get you somewhere a bit quieter,” he said softly and you nodded. Your main work was for Chris but as he didn’t have a crazy upload schedule you would often do other work in your down time mostly for other Youtubers as they knew your work from Chris and or shared an office with him so it was easy to coordinate.

You could only nod, not having the strength or ability to speak in that moment. It was only when you started to walk you noticed Theo who walked on the other side of you, you were squished between the pair and managed to find some seats in a quieter part of the shopping centre off from the main stretch of shops.

“Do you live far from here?” Theo asked scrolling on his phone for Chris’s number, not knowing who else to contact. Your breathing was still very erratic so you shook your head, it was roughly a ten or fifteen minute bus ride away so an Uber would take closer to ten minutes if not a little bit less.

“Do you have a housemate or anything we can call?” Reev asked but once again you shook your head as you gripped onto the bench so tightly while trying to steady your breathing. You lived alone, you had lived alone since you and him broke up, him. You couldn’t believe after so long you would ever bump into him, let alone him having the audacity to speak to you and now after months of hard work he was at the forefront of your mind yet again.

“Hey Chris, are you home? We’ve got a bit of a situation here,” Theo asked Chris who he had now gotten on the phone, he explained the situation with the little information he had and Chris agreed you could go to his if you needed somewhere. You were starting to feel incredibly embarrassed but still hadn’t gained your ability to speak, or regulate your breathing properly so off to Chris’s you went with Theo and Reev in tow.

“What’s happened?” Chris asked once you were settled on the sofa, a mug of tea in hand, a very concerned ArthurTV and George sitting on the other sofa staring at you waiting for answers.

“I saw my ex,” you managed to spit out, staring at the wall in front of you, you had a thousand yard stare, it was obvious you had been traumatised by something.

“Must have been a pretty shitty ex for you to react like that,” Theo noted. Arthur frowned, the thought of you being so upset by someone did not make him feel good, from the little he knew of you he had only known you as an incredibly sweet person.

“He was. I was so surprised to see him because well…” You sighed, it was all going to come out anyway you may as well let the cat out of the bag. You took a deep breath to compose yourself before speaking again “He went to prison, he was violent.” You stated before downing a big gulp of tea. An uncomfortable and stunned silence filled the room as you looked around to see everyone’s faces, there was a mixture of pity, shock and anger, it was usually what you got.

“Did you know he was out?” Arthur was the one to break the silence, he needed to know more, he needed to know if you were okay.

“Yeah, there’s no restraining order or anything, not anymore. I had a no contact order but he didn’t go to prison because of me, he had a fight with someone else, but still I just didn’t think he was stupid enough to talk to me in that shop. If you guys hadn’t have seen me I don’t know what would have happened,” you burst into tears again as everyone looked at each other not knowing what to do for a crying woman. Chris gave you a hug first, some of the others did too in an attempt to cheer you up, you spent the next hour telling everyone your story, asking their questions to the best of your ability.

“That’s why I keep to myself a lot and keep things professional, I’m so so scared to let anybody else in,” you explained, your gaze flicking to Arthur briefly.

“I can’t say I blame you, but you know if you need anything you can call on any of us right?” George offered as he nudged Arthur a little and the brown eyed boy nodded profusely.

“You know you’re safe with us,” Arthur added and you nodded, you did feel safe with them, but could you open up in the way you wanted to?

Armed with their new knowledge the boys had well and truly embraced you into their inner circle, the best part was as far as you could tell they weren’t just doing it because they felt sorry for you but they were genuine.

The work drinks were a huge success, you spent a lot of time talking to people but mostly you chatted to Arthur, George and Chris although pleased the two of you were talking were now very aware of the complication, as was Arthur but he was determined to not treat you any differently, in fact he was even more determined as he wanted to show you just how you should be treated, you deserved the very best.

“Do you think somewhere in China there’s English takeaway serving up questionable fish and chips and steak and kidney pies?” You asked Arthur as the pair of you tucked into a takeaway. The two of you had started to hang out together just you two. It was purely platonic, you had mentioned you had wanted to learn how to play chess so now it was a regular thing going over to his flat to play a game, eat and talk about your views of the world. For some reason this particular evening had ended up being a little boozy, Arthur often liked a drink but this evening he seemed to be drinking a little but more and also tonight you were in a mood to match him somewhat.

“Maybe, I want to go to China. I had a great time in Sri Lanka, I need to go to Asia a lot more plus it’s so diverse,” Arthur mentioned to you, you hadn’t travelled a lot but it was on your bucket list.

“I’ve never been outside of Europe, I’d really love to do something like that,” you replied as you ate your food.

“Maybe we could do something together? Only if you wanted to of course…” Arthur asked trailing off at the end as his shyness kicked in.

“That sounds amazing,” you smiled and blushed before eating some more of your dinner.

The two of you continued to eat in a comfortable silence, you always insisted on washing up when you went over to his flat despite his insistence it was fine but the two of you had a routine now, you washed and he dried and put away. You handed him a plate, the blush rising very quickly on your cheeks as your hand brushed with his momentarily.

“You’re very cute when you blush,” Arthur said, his eyes widened, he didn’t realise he had said it until the words fell out of his mouth, he stuttered a little as he tried to come up with something to say and now it was his cheeks which were the red ones. You couldn’t help but admire how cute he looked all flustered.

“I’m sorry,” he managed to choke out eventually and you frowned a little and shook your head.

“Don’t be sorry, it’s always nice to hear a compliment. You’re cute when you blush too,” you replied looking down a little picking up the fork and cleaning it so the last of the washing up was over.

“I just don’t want you to think I’m coming on too strong or that I’m only after something. There’s some nice guys out there and I really hope you believe you deserve something nice,” Arthur gushed, he didn’t know why he was saying this let alone why he was saying it now but he couldn’t help himself, the words were spilling out of his mouth he just couldn’t hold onto them anymore. You looked at Arthur carefully, trying to ignore the thumping in your chest. You reached out and grabbed his hand lightly walking back to the sofa where you both sat, hands still entwined and now resting on his knee.

“I know, I think you’re one of the good ones. I didn’t say anything before because of my past and I was scared to get into anything but I don’t want my past to effect my future anymore.” You admitted and Arthur had a very small and hopeful smile on his face.

“Does that mean we can maybe go out for dinner next time?” He asked his voice shaking ever so slightly.

“I’d really like that,” you replied with a giggle. This was going to be different in the best way possible.

#arthurtv fic #arthurtv x reader #arthurtv #arthur frederick

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legend-the-dumb-jock · 11 months ago

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@musclejedi7 You wanted to be a big dumb ginger. And not just that. A big dumb bodybuilding ginger. Meet Kevin. Tired of living his life in his pale skin. Tired of his fiery red hair. He came to me and wished he could be someone else. Someone not this. And all I needed was a willing man to put in his body. With a snap of my fingers the two of you make a permanent body swap. Kevin kept his body strong. Hitting the gym all the time whenever he could but one of the things he didn’t like was that he could gain the muscle mass he wanted. Aside from his other issues he had with his body. But that’s ok. You’re Kevin now. You look down and see his tight abs. His pecs. His chest hair that travels down his furry navel to his ginger bushed package. Legs coated in blondish red hair. Something you can see until you stand in the sun and all leading down to some large ginger feet that had to be a size 15. You have a neatly trimmed beard and you look young. You can’t be more than 23. But you’re finally in the finger body you always wanted. And you can see yourself doing great things in this body.

But you want to be body builder size. In a red heads body. So enjoy this size while you can. Over the next week you’re going to be changing. A pounds or two here and there. Aging up a few months here. A couple days there. Your new body is force muscle mass onto it. Becoming a true muscle freak of nature.

Day three you wake up and you can’t help but take a picture. You’ve exploded with muscle. Sure you look like you’re 32 now but you have packed on 50 pounds of muscle. More defined pecs and larger arms. The sweating is easily managed as long as you use a lot of deodorant. And even your hair has managed to get redder. Your shoes are starting to get tight tho and it kind of worrying you. In your first day in your new body you went to find some more comfortable shoes but it was impossible to find anything for these big flippers.

But the end of your first week you’re even larger than before. Well over a hundred pounds than when you first got trapped in this body for the rest of your life. The sweating became unmanageable after day three. Even deodorant no longer worked on the musky sweaty. You sweat so much now that the deodorant just rolled off your thicker body. You had gained welled over 100 pounds of pure muscle during the week. You started wearing a hat all the time as your woke up on day 5 completely bald. And your body got even hairier after that. It’s like you were constantly juicing steroids even though you never touched a single drug. And your worse fear came to pass on day four. Working out and your shoes split as you seen your toes wiggling and stretching. You still haven’t been able to find a store that hold a size 20 for you. And your height topped at 6’5”. Even your pants couldn’t contain the massive member you had anymore. And when you did find a pair you had to do what you could to not get hard. And that was a challenge in itself as what seemed to be the constant juicing left your horny all the time and ready to release. But this is what you wanted right. Trapped as big body building ginger. The only problem now is your smarts. Maybe we should tackle that in week two ? I think a loss 5 iq points everyday for a week will fix you right up !

#musclejedi7

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wobblesthecowgirl · 6 months ago

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Hii! I literally love your page so much! If you don’t mind, could you write an Arthur x Fem reader fluff?

So I was thinking, Arthur and the reader are close friends and she has feelings for him, like I mean she is HEAD OVER HEELS for him! But she thinks that he likes Mary-Beth or something and somehow he finds out about her feelings towards him and how she thinks he likes Mary-Beth and he confronts her and is like “I don’t like her I like you” and they kiss or something idk I JUST NEED HIM SO BAD RN😭

I Only Want You.

Arthur Morgan x Femreader

I apologise for the long delay! But thank you so much for your patience and request! I hope you enjoy it! And thank you so much for the love! <3

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“Why not write him a letter?”

Y/n was sitting on a log with Abigail under the sun, looking out to the beautiful scenery before them on the edge of the cliff. They were discussing Arthur, a common topic between the two, and Abigail was trying to convince her friend to finally confess.

“A letter?” She tilted her head.

Abigail nodded, “Yes! I mean, you love to write, and you’re too much of a baby to speak to him about your feelings. I think a letter is perfect. You can leave it for him without seeing his face.”

Y/n thought about it and agreed it wasn’t a bad idea at all. She could sneak into Arthur’s tent with a letter telling him everything she’s always wanted to say, and wait for a response. So, she smiled and hugged her friend tightly, before standing up quickly and making her way to her own tent to begin writing.

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This was harder than she thought. She assumed being able to sit and think carefully about what she wanted to say would be easy, but it just filled her head with more doubts. Before she could start her fourth draft, she heard a ton of horses outside and quickly hid the crumpled up pieces of paper. Most of the men were robbing a wagon and had just come back; from the cheers and laughs, she could only assume it went well. She got up from her chair and peeked her head out of her tent and almost screamed in surprise. Arthur stood right outside her tent.

“Oh! Mr Morgan, you scared me!” She laughed it off, a hand to her chest as he chuckled with her.

“I apologise, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. I just wanted to tell you how the robbin’ went.”

“I assume it went well, given the smile on your face.” Y/n smiled as she looked around to the other men already cracking bottles of beer. The pair went quiet and the woman wanted to burst into a confession then and there. The sun was setting and it casted a orange glow to his face. His hat caused a small shadow over his eyes and his smile was small and earnest. The little wrinkles around his eyes and mouth only made him more attractive, and his moustache had been recently trimmed.

“Well, I best get back inside now. I’m a very busy lady.” She excused herself. He smiled a little wider and watched her close the tent, almost disappointed with their short exchange.

After their conversation, Y/n got back to her desk and this time, the words began to spill out onto the page with ease:

Dear Arthur,

Firstly, I must apologise. I am too much of a coward to face you, so I’ve resorted to writing this letter.

The truth is, I have fallen head over heels for you. You may not agree with me, but you are a good and genuine man. You’ve helped me in more ways than you could ever imagine. The day you rescued me from my burning horse from the O’Driscolls, I thought my life was over. But, to my surprise, it was the start of an even better life. I truly can’t thank you enough.

I don’t expect you to reciprocate these feelings, and that is ok. I wouldn’t want to ruin this friendship we have formed.

Yours, Y/n.

She kept re-reading it over and over again while a million what ifs ran through her head. What if he’s put off by the letter? What if he has someone already? What if he laughs at her?

She shook her head. She had written it now, all she had to do was plant it in his tent and hide, wallow away in bed while her anxiety ate her up. She folded it and wrote his name on it before peeking her head out the tent again and tip-toeing to his tent. When she saw he wasn’t inside, she snuck in and placed the letter on his bedside table.

Y/n felt satisfied with herself, until she saw a letter on his desk with the name ‘Mary Linton’. Her stomach dropped. Who was this Mary? Was she a lover? A relative? Feeling sick, she rushed out the tent, leaving her letter behind.

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“You alright there, Y/n?” Tilly asked her while she zoned out. It was now night-time, and her mind was eating her up all evening. The women were sat around the fire doing what they do best: gossiping. Of course, Grimshaw or Molly hadn’t joined them, but that was always the case.

“Hmm? Sorry, yeah I’m good.” She brushed it off, taking a big swing of whiskey. The rest of her friends spared glances at one another. Karen piped up while also taking a swig of her own whiskey, “Yeah, I ain't buying that. You’ve been sulking all evening.”

Y/n sighed and began biting her nails out of habit, wondering if asking them about Arthur was a smart idea. But she couldn’t keep letting the question eat away at her.

“Do any of you know who Mary Linton is?”

Mary-Beth looked surprised at the question, “Mary? You don’t know?”

Her stomach dropped again.

“No I don’t.”

Tilly shook her head, already feeling bad for her friend. Everyone but Arthur knew that Y/n had feelings for the older man, it was a miracle the man himself hadn’t figured it out. Tilly sighed, “She used to be his woman. About ten years ago now, but her daddy didn’t like him so it didn't work out. I keep telling him to let it go.”

There it was. Her what ifs became reality. She couldn’t hide her disappointment and took another swig of the whiskey. And another. Then another one.

“Slow down girl! You’ll end badly!” Tilly tried to grab the bottle out her hand but she moved it out of her reach. By now, Y/n vision was hazy and her head felt light. The smell of whiskey was strong on her breath but she felt a little more relaxed at least.

“It’s obvious Arthur likes you back.” Mary-Beth tried to help her feel better, but all she did in response was roll her eyes.

“Oh please. Don’t get my hopes up.” She pouted as she finished the whiskey off. All the women were getting up and getting ready for bed but she decided to sit by the fire a little longer. Karen patted her back, “Please just take it easy. Get some rest soon.” And with that, she was left alone. She just stared into the fire, her mind restless, when she heard a twig snap. She snapped her head back and saw the root of her problems. He looked confused at her state.

“Y/n? What are you still doing at this hour?”

“Nothing.” She frowned, facing away from him, kicking a stone away despite being sat on the log. Arthur sat down next to her, his knee inches away from hers.

“You smell of whiskey, doll. You been drinking too much to handle?” His voice was laced with concern, which only infuriated her more. Why care for her when he already had a woman he cared for?

“Why do you care?” She sounded harsher than she meant to. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was her patience running thin. Maybe it was her disappointment. Either way, her response still shocked him.

“Why wouldn't I?” He asked, and her heart kept sinking lower and lower. They fell silent, and Y/n heard him reach into his pockets and took out the letter. Her eyes widened as she tried to snatch it out his hands but he raised his arm higher.

“Just leave it Arthur!” She shouted, still trying to grab it as he kept his arm in the air, a firm hand on her shoulder to push her lightly.

“Why are you behaving like this? I just want to talk about it.” He tried to calm her down as she stopped prying at him.

“I know about Mary.” She stated which caused his eyes to widen slightly. He glanced at the letter before folding it and putting it back in his pocket.

“The women gossiping again?” He chuckled a little dry, so she only hummed in response. Their gossips were never wrong though, she thought to herself.

“That's history, love. She was only writing to me to help her brother, but I don't like her like I used to.” Arthur grabbed her chin much to her alarm, and gently turned her to face him, before brushing a strand of hair in her face out the way.

That damn smile.

“I love you too. I ain't need a silly little letter, you could've told me and I would've swept you up in a heartbeat.”

It's like time stopped. The alcohol must've gotten to her head. She must've blacked out. Died even, and seen the pearly gates.

But when he leaned forward, and softly kissed her, she felt more awake than ever. He pulled away before she could even react, and his face was bright red.

“Was that a bad kiss? It looks like it was.” He coughed awkwardly.

“No…no not at all. I'm just in shock. I didn't think you actually liked me.”

He laughed light before leaning closer again, a hand on the back of her head, “I don't like you, sweetheart. I love you.”

This time she kissed back, harder. Months of pent up tension between the two was finally being released. It was surprising the two didn't go mad.

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They spent the rest of the night sitting next to the fire, holding hands, and Y/n rested her head on his chest as he held her close. His tumb traced her knuckles as she listened to his heartbeat. She felt protected, safe, warm, and comfortable. She could happily stay like that forever.

Unknown to the pair, the women of the camp were watching from a distance, with giant grins on their faces.

#rdr2 #rdr2 fandom #rdr2 community #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 arthur #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan

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p0rk-guts · 3 months ago

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He's finally done I think. WOAW! Radio demon time!!!

Okay time for comparison + breakdown rant ^ - ^ another SUPER long one I had a lot to say about this silly guy

ALRIGHT. So. Atp all that can be said has been said about Alastor but I'll gloss over it anyhow. Grossly historically inaccurate hair and clothing. Invisible deer theming. One of the main reasons he's got one of the most clowned on designs in the show is bc he's a pretty good representation of the worst it has to offer. He's absurdly red and has the waspiest waist in town. Also gotta zero in on the coat for a second bc I find it incredibly stupid that he went to that tailor bc of his coat being ripped and then left the shop with the exact same torn coat on oh goddd that felt like a complete joke who wrote this

Also his "redesign" was pointless. He stayed pretty much entirely the same except his colors got pinker and grosser and now he has this?? White trim on his lapels??? Even less 1930's accurate and it only serves to hurt the pallate in my eyes. It's the only spot of white on his entire design, it doesn't appear anywhere else so it throws it all off. And it's so bright. Is it supposed to be a focal point?? His tits????

Anyways onto my guy who I love so very deeply. I'm pretty sure sepia film was outdated by the 1930s but I gave him a palette inspired by it to emphasize how dated and stuck in old ways he is. Added blood red accents bc. Well. Cannibal murderer. Also bc I redid the sin colors so red is wrath and it seems like a fitting sin to pair him with.

After looking into 1930's men's fashion a tiny bit (thanks anon, this video was helpful!) and gave him a double breasted coat but wider and pointier so he looks a little less like just some normal guy and really emphasize how prideful and egotistical he is. "Ooo look at me I'm super big and imposing and powerfulll". I think it's a fun character trait of his. Definitely keeping it.

I liked him wearing gloves bc I feel like he wouldn't like getting his hands directly dirty and would always be covered when committing his murders. Maybe he's a germaphobe even. "I can excuse murder but I draw the line at dried blood on my skin". Also the gloves being white would contrast really well with blood so. Love that

I gave him a long tie to free him from the Vivziepop bow tie uniform and a fedora to add to the 1930's vibe and serve as something that can occasionally obscure his face in shadow. His glasses are also opaque and I imagine his eyes would rarely be shown if ever to make him seem more inhuman and off-putting, disconnecting him from personhood a bit. Wanted to add to that with his smiling mouth never opening and just being a static grin that can only occasionally widen or lessen, his voice cracking out of his "speaker" with fuzzy radio static. Seen multiple ppl use that idea and it always eats

I love Alastor's silly theatric nature (primarily in the pilot) and I'd probably keep it, but I'd add a layer of uncanny-ness to him where when he's not putting on his silly jovial facade, he gives off an unnerving vibe. Trying to appear approachable and charming and pleasant to lure people in before he's revealed to be less than human. Loveee thattt

I love Alastor being a deer. Predator becoming prey (animal) + "prey animal" lulling people into a false sense of security before striking. Love it. We should be CAPITALIZING ON IT❗So I gave him deer like legs, visible deer hooves, and more readable deer ears + the ham radio tower antenna antlers (sorry 4 calling them horns 💀)

Tried to make it a little more obvious that he's a mixed man of color by giving him dark wavy hair and the faintest hint of lip definition Viv uses in her style. I think it works. He's still not dark skinned tho

LASTLY the mic. Also not an original idea as I've seen tons of others turn it into a carbon mic but turned into a pentagram shape and I love the idea a lotttt so I joined the crew.

AND THAT DOES IT!!!! hope u like him as much as I do hehe. Just 1 supplemental doodle this time sorry :/ showing off how his face is probably obscured most of the time. He's. So hard to draw. I'm just bad at men but I'm tryinggggg guys

Alsoooo I've already finished the drawings for Niffty, Angel, and Husk! Once I've finished their breakdowns I'll add em right to the queue, and then I'll make a post with all of the main 6 together :3

#my art #digital art #hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor redesign #hazbin hotel redesign #hazbin hotel rewrite

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therealcocoshady · 5 months ago

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Recovery - Chapter 43

Synopsis : Reader tries to distract Em from his disappointment.

Author’s note : Thank you (as usual) to @shady-577 who agreed to read this beforehand. And thank you to all of you who have been reading my stuff lately ❤️. I don’t have time to reply to every single Ask you send but I see all the love and I’m grateful for it 🥰

- Marshall, you’re going to kill me ! You nearly cried as the love of your life planted a kiss on your neck, signaling he was ready for yet another round.

- Of course not, he cooed. You’ve got more in you.

- I don’t think I do, you panted. I’m exhausted.

- Fine, he said with a small pout before kissing your temple. I guess I can wait a bit.

It had been nearly a week since he last set foot in the studio and, instead of working on his music, he had apparently decided to work on your cardio. Judging by his efforts in the bedroom, he was trying to determine how many orgasms it would take to kill you. He seemed to be horny all the time and, what was all fun and games in the first days of him staying home turned out to be exhausting. Sure, it seemed like champagne problems. Too much pleasure, too many orgasms… a lot of women would argue that, at least, you were with a man who put your pleasure first and foremost and that you were lucky. But you had reached the point of exhaustion. You were even starting to doubt whether or not Marshall was taking stimulants because it made absolutely no sense for a man his age to have such insane stamina. Thank God, he was just as skilled and attentive when it came to aftercare and, each time you reached your limits, he made up for it by dotting on you. Plus, with your thumb being broken, he was extra attentive. For the past seven days, he had been all over you and you hadn’t been able to get much done. Arguably, your broken thumb had been a pain in the ass but it didn’t help that Marshall wouldn’t let you leave the bedroom.

You let your head roll on the pillow while Marshall got up and went to the bathroom to draw a bath for the both of you. God knows your sore muscles needed it. You joined him a couple of minutes later and found him inspecting his face in the mirror.

- Your beard is getting too long, old man, you giggled. You need to trim it.

- You think ? He asked.

- I know, you said with a smirk. With the amount of time you spend with your face between my legs, I can feel it.

- Oh, he simply chortled. Sorry about that, babe. Yeah I haven’t trimmed it in a minute. I keep up with it when I go to work, usually but… you know.

- Yeah, about that, you hummed. When do you think you’ll go back ?

He sighed and looked at you, arms crossed over his chest. He didn’t seem too happy with the question but you knew you had to bring it up anyway. You stared at him, waiting for an answer.

- I’m not going back, he simply said.

- Marshall, you said softly.

- What ? He sighed. Don’t you like having me home ? We’re having a good time !

- You know it’s not that, you said softly as you cupped his face. But now that you’re talking about it… I don’t think my body can take it. Nor can the checklist of everything I need to do for the wedding. I’m behind on everything !

- Come on, he said with an eye roll. It’s not that bad.

- Twelve, you simply said.

- Twelve what ? He asked.

- That’s the number of times we did it yesterday, you giggled.

- If you were still able to count, I guess I didn’t do a great job, he said with a smirk before grabbing your waist. Might have to correct that.

- I swear to God, if you try this, I will cry, you giggled.

He chuckled and pulled you into his warm embrace as you both watched the water fill the tub.

- Are you going to share your secret, though ? You asked as you nuzzled his chest.

- Secret ? He asked.

- How do you do it ? You giggled. Viagra ?

- No, he chuckled. But judging by your complaints, if I were to take that, I would break you. I don’t know, I’ve always had a high sex drive.

- It’s through the roof, these days, though, you pointed out.

- I tend to have some phases I go through, he shrugged. I work like that. I find something and I pour all of my energy into that. Like when I got back to exercising when I got sober. I tend to hyper focus on things and not half-ass it.

- I see, you hummed. So… it’s not because I’m irresistible ?

- What ? Of course, he said. I didn’t-

- Relax. I’m just joking, you said before kissing his pec. I get it. Plus, sex is great when it comes to getting your mind off things.

- Right, he nodded. I need that, lately.

You hummed and entered the bathtub. You sat in silence, enjoying the warm water and Marshall’s embrace, gently stroking his arm.

- You know you can talk to me, right ? You nudged him.

- I know, he sighed. I just… I’m so used to pouring all of my energy into my work that now, I don’t even know what to do with myself. I have this anger, this energy…

- Have you tried writing about it ? You suggested. That usually works for you.

- I can’t, he groaned. Because if I write about it, I have to do the whole thing. Again, I can’t half-ass it. So I have to record it, speak it, rap it. I have thousands of recorded verses, just to ease my mind. I know it’s fucked up, but that’s how I work. But I can’t do that now because it doesn’t feel like a safe space anymore. Because some nasty shit I do might get leaked. And I can’t trust anyone, now.

You nodded and squeezed his hand, encouraging him to keep talking.

- And even if I could, I wouldn’t trust myself, he continued. Because… look at what happened. I hurt you. I fucked us over.

- We could always put the home studio back together ? You offered. No iCloud, all analog, you wouldn’t have to see anyone…

- I don’t want that shit in our home, he said as he shook his head. If I’m honest, I should have tossed it away a long time ago. When I was at the height of my addiction, I used to go to the basement and get high all the time. I don’t have good memories. But it’s also hard because rapping… it’s all I have, you know ? I’m just frustrated. Whatever. It’ll pass. I talked to the therapist about it. I’m working through it but it takes time. That’s tough to swallow.

- Right, you hummed. But… in the meantime, you’re just… not working ?

- I guess, he shrugged. It’s just as well, though. I guess being home will be good for me. For us. We’re still working through our own issues, doing therapy. We could use some time just the two of us.

- I like having you with me, you said lovingly. I just want to make sure you’re ok. So… are you ?

- I don’t know, he said earnestly. Honestly, I don’t think so. I’m mad at tracy for the shit she pulled. I’m fucking livid ! And it’s not only about the leak, you know ? But she was my friend ! She worked with me for almost a quarter of a century. Nevermind the fact that we dated, but she was there for every important moment of my life. Not just my career, bu my personal life, too ! She was almost an aunt to the girls, you know ? When I was heartbroken, I can’t even tell you about the number of times she was there for me. She was always the one telling me I deserved to be happy, she supported me in everything I did ! She was just as important as Paul. You haven’t been alive long enough to know what it’s like to be betrayed by someone who’s been in your life and working alongside you for this long but I can tell you… It fucking hurts. I always thought « If I can’t trust Tracy, I can’t trust anyone ». Well… I guess I can’t trust anyone. I really can’t. It feels like I’ve been lied to for the past twenty-five years.

- I hate to be the one saying this, but what she did, however vile, doesn’t erase most of the good times you had, you said tentatively.

- No but it does, he said. She ruined the most important things for me ! By leaking that fucking track, she hurt you, she ruined your reputation, she ruined my relationship with my daughters and she ruined the thing that makes me feel alive : music ! How the fuck am I supposed to go back to work after this ? I was fucked over ! All the things I worked so hard to build protect, they’re fucking gone !

You stared at him and saw tears well in his eyes, a mix of sadness and anger. His baby blue eyes gazed into yours before looking away as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

- I’m sorry, he mumbled. That needed to come out. I shouldn’t bother you with that shit. You have enough on your plate as it is. You’ve been through a lot and it’s my fault.

- Babe, no ! You immediately interjected. I did ask if you were ok and I’m glad you were honest. You’re allowed to be honest and vulnerable.

- That’s exactly how I feel, he sighed. Vulnerable. You know, when I was a scrawny kid whose life sucked, music was my safe space. It’s what made me feel good, allowed me to feel tough. I can’t tell you how amazing it felt, the day I realized I was good at rapping. I decided that I wanted to do it for the rest of my life. And it allowed me to channel all the feelings that were overwhelming for me. And even later, when so much shit went down… It fucking saved my life. So now, not feeling confident, and having been fucked over by one of he people I built everything with… It fucking sucks. I’ve spent the past week trying not to think about it. Every time I do, I feel fucking helpless.

You nodded sympathetically and cupped his face. He leaned into your touch and closed his eyes before pulling you closer to him and burying his face in your neck. You weren’t used to seeing him so vulnerable and, even in the rare instances he was, he usually wasn’t so vocal about his feelings. You were happy he had finally spoken about it, and that he felt safe enough with you to tell you how he really felt. You held him and ran a hand in his back, gently stroking his skin, feeling him ease up against you.

- It feels good, he whispered. Thank you.

- You don’t have to thank me, you hummed. I love you. I want to be here for you, take care of you…

- It’s my job, though, he mumbled.

- It’s a two-way street, you know ? You giggled. We can take care of each other.

- I like that, he nodded with his eyes closed. I love you.

- I love you too, you replied lovingly. Now how about we get up, put on some clothes and watch Superbad ?

- I thought you didn’t like that movie ? He asked.

- I just don’t love it as much as you do, you shrugged. Plus, I know it’s your favorite.

He smiled against your skin and you stayed in each other’s arms for a few minutes before getting out of the bathtub. You got dressed and you ordered Marshall to get in bed while you went downstairs and prepared some snacks for the two of you. You were putting everything on a tray in the kitchen when he walked in.

- I told you to stay upstairs, you scolded.

- How are you going to carry everything, smart-ass ? He asked.

- With one hand, you shrugged.

- So that I have to get up and clean after your clumsy ass once everything’s on the floor ? Don’t think so, he chuckled. You don’t have to take care of me, you know ?

- I know. I want to, though, you assured him.

- What do you have in mind, then ? He mused.

- Well, believe it or not, I don’t really have a « my boyfriend’s been fucked over by a longtime friend and employee who turned out to be a bitch » protocol in place. So I’m giving you the « heartbroken bestie » treatment, you said.

- Which is ?

- It involves a bed, a movie, tons of snacks and cuddles. A face mask if you feel like it.

- I guess it’s worth a try, he said with a smile. Thanks, babe.

You went upstairs and stuck to the plan. You were in Marshall’s arms while you both watched the movie and he mindlessly played with your hair. A funny scene came on and you noticed he was not even paying attention to the movie.

- You’re not laughing ? You asked with a raised eyebrow.

- What ? He asked. Oh. Yeah.

- It’s not working very well, is it ? You asked.

- No, it is, he shrugged. I mean… I don’t know. I’m just thinking about a lot of stuff. It’s hard to turn my brain off. I’m sorry. Does it usually work when one of your friends gets dumped ?

- Sometimes, you shrugged. If memory serves, putting on slutty dresses and going dances can work too, but I’m sensing it’s not for you. Though your music videos prove that you’ve worn your fair share of slutty dresses. Or… We could go for a drive.

- Sounds good, he said as he got up. We haven’t left the house in a week.

- Whose fault is that ? You asked with a grin.

- Mine, I know, he chuckled.

- I liked the drives we used to go on, you commented. I remember the first one. It was great.

- When I took you to the observatory, when we met ?

- No, the time we went for a drive in the Aston Martin, you corrected. Right after our first movie night. I remember feeling so good with you. Thinking « wow, he’s great in bed and I love being in the car with him ».

- It was fun, he nodded.

- And then, you broke my heart, you recalled. When you said nothing would happen between us, ever again.

- Stupidest thing I’ve ever said, he chuckled. Because I’m fucking glad we’re together. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

You squeed and kissed him before getting up and putting some shoes on. You headed to the garage where Marshall let you pick a car for your drive. On an everyday basis, he usually drove the Escalade because it was more practical and less flashy than the others, but night drives like this were an opportunity to enjoy his impressive car collection. You settled for the Lamborghini Aventador, much to his delight. You knew it was one of his favorites. As you were exiting the garage, he looked at you with a mischievous grin.

- The point of this whole thing is to cheer me up, right ? He asked.

- It is, you agreed. But why do I feel you’re up to something ?

- I have an idea, he said with a smile. How about you get behind the wheel ?

- Y-you want me to drive ? You asked nervously.

- We always talked about how I’d have to teach you, he shrugged. It makes sense now that you live here. If you knew how to drive, you wouldn’t need Uber or people chauffeuring you around. Honestly, I’m shocked you didn’t learn earlier.

- That’s because cities in Europe are centered around pedestrians, you explained.

- You’ve lived in the US for years, babe ! Come on, I’ll teach you, he said with excitement. You always say you like my car collection !

- Yeah, they’re nice to look at, but…. Do you really trust me with your car ? You asked. Especially this one ?

- A car’s a car, he shrugged. You have to start somewhere ! Come on, I’ll just show you how it works and we won’t even get out of the property.

- My thumb’s broken, you reminded him.

- Come on, people drive with splints all the time, he chuckled. Please ? We’ll have fun !

You looked at him with a raised eyebrow but his smile was so genuine that you ended up caving in. In your twenty-eight years of life, you had never bothered with learning how to drive, partly because the Europe infrastructure thing was true, but also because you were terrified. However you trusted Marshall with your life so you were ok with giving it a go. You switched places in the car and he quickly explained the basics to you. You listened carefully, trying to make mental notes of everything. You started the car as he encouraged you and walked you through the pedals.

- See ? It’s easy ! He said with a smile. Now, we’re going to drive a bit, ok ?

- Ok, you said as you tried to get your confidence together.

You managed to work the pedals and drove a bit around the house. Honestly, it wasn’t as scary as you thought it would be and you enjoyed it. You also liked having Marshall coaching you through the whole thing, a hand on your thigh.

- I did it !!! You shrieked in excitement. It’s actually really easy !

- Hang on, he chuckled. You haven’t tried driving stick, or in traffic. But I’m proud of you, babe. Now how about we go for an actual drive ?

- You don’t want me to drive on the road, do you ?! You asked in panic.

- Of course not, he chuckled. I don’t want to get pulled over by the cops. Or die. I’ll drive.

You switched places again and drove for a while, listening to the radio. Some hip-hop tracks that Marshall hadn’t heard yet came up and he listened carefully, commenting on a couple of bars. Most of the time, when he listened to tracks, he did so on his own but you actually enjoyed having him provide content, context and explaining the most intricate bars to you. Whenever he talked about music, you could see his eyes light up. You watched him lovingly as he rambled on, talking about an artist, commenting on their discography. At one point, you stopped at a drive-thru and ordered some food, before driving to the observatory where he took you, after you first met. You sat in the car as you watched the sun set, talking about random things.

- I like this, you commented.

- Yeah ? He asked. I’m glad. I can’t believe you had never had Taco Bell before !

- No, I mean, this, you said as you gestured to the both of you. Going on a drive, talking, enjoying sunset… I like this. I’m happy living with you and all, but I like going out of the house and just talking, and not just about what we did during the day. Is it crazy that I feel like we haven’t done that in a while ?

- No, I agree, he said with a smile. Does that count as a date, then ?

- I think it does, you giggled. I like dating you, Marshall.

- I like dating you too, babe, he said softly. Now that I have more time, I’ll be more present, I promise.

- You’ll have to go back to work eventually, though, you pointed out.

- I don’t know, he shrugged. I love my job. Music is… It’s everything to me, you know ? But maybe it’s a sign. Maybe I should put a stop to all of this. Maybe I could just sell Effigy, call it quits and focus on my foundation and my family life. Us. Maybe I should retire.

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #recovery fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem fluff #eminem imagine #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers imagine

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herejusttosufferalong · 4 months ago

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Ok so this might be a long rant, I just came across this account, after a lovely woman i follow on TT. She said in her live that a blog she likes one tumblr account, so I had a wee nosy. Well after watching Tifs live (our captain) the other night, my gut feeling about this whole situation with L, N and A:

I only started to ship L&N late April this year. I just was excited to see polin for their season after reading the book. Then I seen N and L interviews and saw their chemistry & connection I was hooked. I don’t ship people irl but I did always like Tom and Zendaya, I thought they would be cute together but nothing hardcore. Then L& N came into my life and now I can’t function properly without thinking about these two. I like the whole world has seen this two people that have captured our hearts, with their crazy chemistry. Which made a lot fans go crazy thinking they were a real couple and still want them to be.

As I said I newly lukola fan but after watching Tifs live and reading the info she had, also looking at other content and speaking to other fans. I believe my gut feeling is right, ( just my opinion) don’t come from me lol. 1: I believe L fell for N that first day they met at the dance rehearsal. I mean for someone who doesn’t have good memory, he remember everything that day. Like you said I believe he pushed those feelings down as he was in newly relationship. Also N was in a relationship, it wasn’t their time. They were great friends, laughed, joked and even flirted irl or SM but never crossed that boundary.

2: I believe the chemistry we were seeing in season 1 and 2 was them giving each other subtle hits, that they will have to finally give into repressed feelings once they become leads. L was still in a longtime relationship with his gf but N wasn’t in hers anymore, so she was having single girl era. Then bang they are told they are the leads the next season. Both gear up for it by L getting fit, healthy and trim down. N also got fit, healthy and went to the gym. They both threw everything into making this the best season(which I believe they did). Then started to film season3 when they can’t hide their feelings anymore. The gf caught on to this and that when things started to turn sour for L and gf, she got jealous and insecure about his feelings. She started getting hate from fans. Once she started doing shady things like copy N style and comment (WFT on camera) when the episode 2 season 2, when Colin’s comes back from his trip and sees Pen for the first time. Then J and L unliked N posts and didn’t interact with her as much. Also around that time N came out to defend J and stop the hate. (If I couldn’t love this woman anymore than I do. She is a incredible, kind and loyal friend to have in your life). Around this time L was on down low liking posts N friends posted about her, knowing that J wasn’t following them on SM to see. 3: As I said when season3 began all those feelings they both had came out and they couldn’t hide it anymore. You can see it by the reactions of the cast and crew saw, they slowly were letting us know that it was real what we saw and felt. I mean the fact that he wasn’t able to see her in certain dresses until the last minute to get his real reaction or that the director took all the dancers off the set, to only have N&S dance in front of L to get that pure jealousy and anger from him. (BTW that nearly broke that man) haha which I love, I know am evil 😏. Or the fact that N had a fake hen party with cast and crew. Do not get me started on the ‘sound proof’ carriage or the broken furniture. Around those scenes were being filmed the shit was hitting the fan with L&J, they believed to be broken up around the time of the mirror scene. We all know how relaxed they were with each other in those days, as N said “we were so relaxed, we spent the day under the covers naked not wanting to get up”. I mean come you two 🙈 So L was coming home after doing those intimate scenes and couldn’t detached from it. So it is believed around this time J cheated on L with a co star, of course this is all rumoured but Ls mum, aunt and grandma liked a lot of lukolas posts. That scene when he finds out about pen being LW, he was really crying and even catch’s on his words, it also makes N say his name because she can’t see him hurting. So that’s why she help him to heal after the break up, she wanted him not in pain anymore. That’s when everything changed.

4: N and L friendship grows stronger and stronger around part two they both were single and they give into their feelings. So when you watch the ally scene when he finds her out on the night before their wedding and they argue he push’s her up against the door. L uses his left hand to lift up her skirt, Colin is right handed but L is left handed. Also if you listen to that scene without the music, you can hear him saying N name. The last scene they filmed together was their last intimate scene and she slips the tongue in while he sucks on it. He also came to her last day of filming to support her AKA the pic of him seating on the floor while she hugging him 🫠So I believe that they both hooked up around this time and even went on secret dates. He was all in and was ready to go into the relationship with her. This is when it hits her, he needs to be single, she was going to be busy, he starting his new play… they had to put the breaks on it for awhile. That’s why she always says “what is meant for you, won’t pass you by”, something my mum says to me every day. N knows she be called to other women, that she is older, that her image would be damaged if they came out as a couple around that time. Because he loves her so much he couldn’t do that to her, so he agrees even though it is killing him. That’s when A appears. 5: He goes on to have his HBS with the lads and the rat 🐀 (Rory) I said what I said. He has fun and then meets A, she fun and exciting, just someone to have fun with, who also fits in his friends group. They date have fun, go on double dates, parties and events. They never put a label on it but she his gf in not so many words. Then they begin their six month press tour and all that pent up feelings come back out again. They were unhinged, flirty and their chemistry was through the roof. They couldn’t stop it if they tried. They have understanding like last year they couldn’t go public if they wanted to because of the image wouldn’t be right. That’s when A jealous streak came out, by slowly letting the fans know she was about and don’t get any ideas. She post videos of her of dancing in hotels were L was staying. That’s when she started to troll the fans and N too. I think the final nail that hit the coffin was the Ireland trip. We got the famous fixing the hair in middle of an interview(let’s be real L went to another world, he lean in and closed his eyes never wanting to open them up again). We also got him meeting her mum and went out with her family. A could see he was pulling back from her that’s why she invited herself to the NY premier were we got the awkward hug from A&N. So that’s why she called the paps and messed up the situation with L&N. I like a lot of people felt that pap walk was a slap to all our faces. I believe like you said she went rogue. All she had to do was wait a week and it wouldn’t have been as bad. The fandom would have been mad but would got over it. However she stole that limelight and you could see he annoyed by the pics. So HBS 2 happens, N starts working on her her new film. L has events, parties and holidays with A and the friend group. However he found ways to mention N in every interview or posts and she tells him in some ways that he is always with her by the pics she posts too. Like he said on JF they are on a break. Now they waiting for things to calm down and distance himself from A. But she doesn’t like and has now joined together with rat boy and his gf. They are trolling fans, N, leaking pics and videos of L when he just wants to be private. I also believe he has totally checked out with this relationship. You can see it in her eyes and body language, it doesn’t lie, he’s not happy. I also think his losing work opportunities with this bad pr at the minute. Unlike N who is booked and busy.

So to conclude this rant sorry btw I just had to get this all out of my head 🙈 it was doing my head in. I believe once season 4 begins and L&N have to be a married couple. They go back to their funny, flirty and unhinged. I then believe A bags will be packed because he will do all he can to protect N and her image. He also try to get new jobs as well. Were A might be on the next season of love island. I really hope not because I seen enough of that drama queen and I like to enjoy the show. I think next year we might get the confirmation of them both being an official couple. That’s when I be cracking up the Prosecco and champagne 🍾 😊🚢

No matter how many times I read things like this I always act surprised at every turn lmao

Love this anon, thx for sharing

#this is all opinion #merely speculating #i will die in my delulu #feeding my delulu daily

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junedenim · 1 month ago

Text

2009

beneath the boardwalk, part 7 (series masterlist)

secret door

warnings: a tad angsty, a tad fluffy, a tad smutty, a sweet tooth, etc.

word count: 10.5k

Alex and I shared his childhood bed. I spent Christmas and New Year's with my family in Bath, but I made the trip up to Sheffield on the 4th of January for Alex's birthday on the 6th. It was a rather unremarkable birthday but it remains one of the coziest. Alex and I thought about going out to drink but his mum made him a cake. After we ate the cake, we were too tired so we played a game of Cluedo with his parents and went to bed.

After this birthday, I realized I enjoyed Alex's birthday more than my own. My birthdays have had the long tradition of ending in dramatics or sadness or just plain boring. The simplicity of Alex's birthdays has always brought me comfort, maybe because he doesn't want a party. He doesn't want to do anything. He just wants to relax and play Cluedo.

When we went to bed that night, we were practically stacked on top of each other. He offered to sleep on the floor because, although we had done the twin bed shuffle before, it never equalled the best sleep. I denied him and said I would. He denied me so I laid half my body on top of him to not fall off the bed.

I combed his hair back. It had grown out in the desert but was softer than ever. His mum made him get a trim, which tamed up the hair, making it fall perfectly as opposed to his faux sideburn days. "How's 23 feel?"

He shrugged and reached a hand up to push my curtain-like hair behind my ear. My hair was getting long too, which I was thankful for because I didn't want to resemble Alex too much. I had grown my fringe out in the desert. My hair looked shaggier than ever but I kind of liked the roughness of it. Maybe that was the part that resembled Alex's hair. "No different than 22," he said.

"I guess we've passed all the fun ages," I sighed. "We're truly adults now."

Alex smiled softly. "That feels weird. I know we've done all these adult things, but actually being referred to as one is still weird."

"I can always account for you being older than me. That's all that matters."

He shook his head, amused by me. "Those 3 months mean a lot to you."

"Yeah, they must have been the worst 3 months of your life."

"Why?"

"'Cause you were living in a world without me."

He kissed me and then said, "That would truly be." A kiss to the cheek. "Hell." A kiss to the neck. "On." A kiss to the right collarbone. "Earth." A kiss to the right breast.

In the latter half of January, the band went on a small Australian & New Zealandian tour. I went because what else would I do? The majority of the tour was for the Big Day Out Festival which was hosted in Sydney, Melbourne, Gold Coast, Adelaide, Perth, and Auckland.

Their first show back in Wellington came with the debut of some Humbug songs, which I had already known of through recording and rehearsals. But seeing "Pretty Visitors" live for the first time ever was life-changing, even if Alex did stand awkwardly with his hands in his jacket's pockets. Like Pinocchio came to life, still not adapted to his new body.

I used the label-comped airfare travel to explore rather than attend most of their concerts. The dates were compacted close together so I was the only one out of our crew that got to defrost from the British winter in the Australian sun.

In February, the band was due to return to California to finish the album. Late one night in Perth, Alex asked me, "Are you coming back?"

It had been a deflected point like most things. Pushed off until someone or something made the decision for me. I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to go back to London alone. I didn't want to be in California alone. Ultimately, the business card from Opal stuck in my wallet tipped the scale.

"I think I want to finish it out," I told him.

Excitement flashed in his eyes but he stayed still. "Are you sure? I'll be back before you know it. Everything will be fast. You won't even miss me."

I tugged at him. "Of course, I'll miss you. And you'll be off on tour soon and I like the idea of going with you but you know I can't do a whole tour with you. I have to be independent."

The greatest accomplishment in my life might be Alex's pride in me. I don't know how I earned his belief in me. It was there right from the moment we met and it never dissipated, even when we broke up. His smile flashed with pride then, small, but always proud in the stances I made for myself.

"I know," he said. "And I love being with you but I like hearing what you get up to when I'm away. And it'll be more flexible this time since you're out of school."

"And, maybe, I could get some work out in LA. Just freelance or something. I feel like I just gave up last time and didn't bother with a job. You know, me and complaining."

"Shush, you're opinionated. It's how I like my women."

"Women?"

He corrected, "Woman."

I chuckled and slotted my head on his shoulder. "I think maybe I'll get in touch with Opal. Maybe one day write for the LA Times. Would that make me a traitor?"

"No," he laughed, "just maybe a red coat." The skin near his eyes crinkled up, pleased with his joke. I prayed to make those wrinkles become permanent, for him to live in a lifetime of laughter, specifically from my jokes but I do get a special funny feeling when he's laughing at his own humor. It's like he's patting himself on the back, something he does physically do.

There was a question of giving in too much to Alex. I was chasing a boyfriend through the world, which was okay because I was traveling and exploring too and I wanted to be with him but I always worried about my association with him—clinging too tightly, representing an image of somebody who lived off of him. At times (and eventually), it consumed me.

In our rented LA home there was a bay window, which didn't look out on much other than the road and the opposing house. While Alex was at the studio, I sat there and wrote. By that point, I had compiled my essays in a file I called "LA Times." My intention wasn't to submit the works to the LA Times—I had yet to hear back from Opal on any openings—but it was simply something in the works—a digital diary of those past few Californian months.

I had begun submitting work and didn't hear back. I thought of getting a part-time job or babysitting gig, but it felt like a waste of my degree, and Alex had plenty of funds to go around.

Opal and I went out for drinks and it was the first time I went out in LA, independent from Alex. It was fast fun. Opal talked in excessive sweetness but was snarky in response to any disparity toward her.

She seemed so worldly but had never lived anywhere outside of LA. She wasn't any form of a writer but she worked with writers all day and asked if she could look at my work. I was shyly reluctant but she tugged it out of me. Some small 500-word piece I liked.

She gushed about it (and still does) insisting on me giving her more of my writing. I slowly trickled more pieces to her before she accumulated enough to give to her friend, Jackson Ferrera.

Opal began coming over to our house. If Alex was out late, we'd have dinner together. We drink together most Friday nights. We smoked a joint together once and she laughed so much she peed herself.

Opal and Alex had an interesting relationship. Opal paid compliments to his appearance like she did with everyone but it never verged on sexual or romantic. She was an observer like all of us, but she didn't write about it.

She'd also mock him as most girls do together behind their boyfriend's back. All remaining affectionate and loving. The kind of way I talked about Stacey. She was my pestering little sister who was also my youthful partner-in-crime.

"I love your hair, hon!" She said once to Al after he returned home to us watching Glee on the couch.

"Oh." He patted down the sides of his hair as if he forgot it was on his head. "I guess."

He left the room and Opal turned to me and said, "That man can not take a compliment."

I laughed and shrugged. "I've tried my best. I think he thinks you're lying to him."

"Why?!" Opal's mouth lay agape. "I'm not a liar."

I stared at her speculatively. "Everyone's a liar."

"I'm not." She placed her hand on her chest, insisting to me, "My mom told me to never lie."

I don't know if Opal has ever lied, not expansively. Not even little white lies. If you asked her how her day was, she'd tell you honestly. Maybe she fibbed and told half-truths, but she'd never fake compliment you.

She was judgy. On the other side of her kindness was someone who would honestly tell you that you look ugly in that dress. Her job seemed like her destiny, paid to have an opinion because she wasn't designed for fake niceties. I appreciated and needed the quality. It was a confidence boost and a humbling force.

For my birthday, Alex took me to Big Sur. We flew up to San Jose and Alex drove us down to our lodge where I fell asleep and woke up 23.

In the early morning, we walked along Pfeiffer Beach where the water was too cold and dangerous to swim in and the wind blew so hard it blinded us. We abandoned the beach, had lunch, and walked Point Lobos, which felt like we'd walked into a dream. The water waved its blues and the wind waved through the trees just right to create the perfect breeze.

"You know," I said, "this is the first trip we've ever been on. Just you and me."

Alex bowed his head and said, "Suppose that's my fault. At least we've done Wicklow."

"I know, but it doesn't really count. We probably wouldn't have gone if we weren't in Dublin." We both walked with our hands in our pockets and it was easy to think of all those talks we'd had before with our hands stuffed into our jeans pockets.

Alex smiled, his eyes covered with sunglasses, and his hair framing his face. "I'm making up for it now. Best I can." He placed one of his hands on the small of my back; a reassuring touch. Alex often felt insufficient and I wasn't the best at combating that doubt. I know he's carried guilt for self-claimed selfishness. If we were both older I wouldn't have tolerated this in the manner I did at that age. I never cared that he wanted things because he wanted me to be a part of them. However, there was always a sense that Alex had to "make up" for what he had done. I don't know if that hurt me or pleased me.

When we finished the trail we had to go back to our lodge because Alex had slipped down a hill and cut a hole into his jeans. Believe me, very funny, I wish I had it to submit to Funniest Home Videos but alas...

Alex drove for the majority of the trip. I wasn't very good at driving in America. It confused my brain. I reached over, brushing a chunk of his hair behind his ear like he had done for me countless times. "You think you're going to keep it long?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Do you think I should?"

"If you like it," I permitted.

He glanced over and gave me a look. "Does that mean you don't like it?"

I hummed. I had never really thought about it. "No. I like it," I decided. "It makes you look older. I think if you had the same cut as college you'd still look like you were 17."

"You don't think I've aged at all?"

"It's hard to tell. I've never been away long enough to notice a difference. What about me? Do I look older?" I batted my eyelashes.

He chuckled at my brazen show. "You look 23 to me."

I got a call from Jackson Ferrera a week after my birthday. I didn't know who he was and almost didn't answer the call when it rang at 10:30 AM, still in bed. Alex had left an hour or two earlier, kissing my forehead and unintentionally waking me up. We mumbled, "Bye, baby" to one another before he left and I drifted back to sleep.

I was in the shower when Alex returned home. It was somewhere around 5 PM and a Wednesday and I hadn't left the house once. I was in the middle of washing my hair when I heard the bathroom door open and my worries about this becoming a scene from Psycho dissipated when Alex said, "Hey, honey." Isn't it cute? We call each other honey now. It originated from Opal. We imitated her calling everyone "honey" with one another until we actually just ended up calling each other "honey" all the time.

"Hey," I called out over the shower. Alex discarded his clothes and joined me in the shower. We had started doing that more often too. We didn't often have sex in the shower either. I mean, it did happen, but we decided to shower together more in a chaste quality. Alex has the ability to wash your hair in the same way it feels at a salon. It's complete bliss. "How was your day?"

He was my little dog with his long hair getting wet in the shower and sticking to his face. He let the water run over it completely before pushing it back and out of his face. "Good. Fine," he answered. "I feel like I've been hunched over all day." He pecked my lips, a domestic greeting.

I reached down for my conditioner and told him, "I'll rub your back before bed." We might as well be the old married couple with aching backs and a stay-at-home woman willing to soothe them. I don't like to view us as old-fashioned. We were unconventional. British desert Californians, who were a musician and a pretend writer.

Alex took the bottle out of my hand, taking the conditioner into his hands, acting his role of hair masseuse. "You're my savior. I'd have a humpback if it weren't for you."

I shrugged as I turned for him to rub the product in my hair. "I like taking care of you. Shall I have dinner on the table too?"

He scoffed, "God, no. I'd be dead of food poisoning if you did that."

I laughed because I wasn't offended by not having any cooking skills. Alex understood that and has never forced a change on that. "You can't blame me. My parents don't know how to cook either."

"Your parents don't know how to do a lot of things you can do. Excuses, excuses." He clicked his tongue and I giggled as he squeezed one of my butt cheeks. "What did you get up to while I was gone?"

I sighed, turning back around to face him, a big smile plastered on my face. "Okay, well, don't freak out because I don't know anything yet."

Alex immediately grabbed my hands, nearing a panic. "What?"

I pushed his hands down. "Calm down," I instructed. "It's not that big of a deal." He relaxed and awaited an answer. "So, I got this call from someone Opal knows. A guy named Jackson Ferrera—"

"Oh, god, Janie, you're leaving me, aren't you?" Alex joked, turning his head away in dramatics, pushing me away, unable to bear the sight of me. "I always knew it."

I slapped his arms away. "Will you shut up? Listen." He looked at me normally and nodded his head. "Opal gave him some of my writing and he's this literary agent and he wants to talk about maybe him representing me—"

I was interrupted by Alex's excitement. "Are you serious? Like a book or something?"

I was reluctant to say anything, not wanting to get his hopes up, my hopes up like speaking it aloud would cancel out any possibilities. "I don't know yet. I haven't even met the guy yet."

"But you're going to?" Alex clutched my waist, his grip filled with giddiness.

I nodded, trying to fight this big smile. "This Friday at noon. And I don't know what it would be yet. He could just recommend me for some stupid literary agent job."

Alex quickly shook his head. "No way, Janie. You're going to make a book."

"I'm not going to make a book," I insisted.

But he fought back, confident as always, "You're going to make a book."

"Don't jinx anything. He might just help me submit some of my pieces to some higher-up magazines. Who knows, by the end of the year, I could be in the New Yorker?"

He scoffed, "You're better than the New Yorker. They'll be begging for your work."

I bumped into him. "Don't say that. I'd love to write for the New Yorker. I'd be happy writing for Playboy at this point."

Alex wiggled his eyebrows. "They do have some really good articles."

I pinched his side and told him to shut it. He wrapped me up in a hug and a dramatic rain—well, shower—kiss. Everything felt like it was landing in place and California did really seem to be a place where dreams came true and all that nonsense that I'll make fun of for the rest of this book but for this one moment, I'll believe to be true. Then, Alex got shampoo in his eye.

"Ow! Fuck, fuck, fuck." He clutched his left eye and doubled over. The water and shampoo suds still pouring down his face.

I grabbed his shoulder and asked if he was okay. He insisted on being fine but his hand remained on his eye and he grinded his teeth down before I managed to pull him out of the shower without tripping.

I sat him on the toilet seat, dripping wet, and shampoo still a mess in his hair. "Let me see," I said, drying his face off.

He waved me off. "No, no, I'm fine." His hand remained on his eye with a refusal to remove it.

"Al," I said and tugged at his wrist. He dropped his hand and slowly opened his eye, bloodshot and pink. "Oh, Jesus."

"What? Did it fall out?" He joked.

I snorted a laugh and began searching for eye drops. "It's dried up, that's all."

Then came the struggle of actually getting the eye drops into Alex's eye because he refused to keep his eye open. He kept muttering, "Ow, ow, ow" as each eye drop flooded his eyeball.

Later that night, after I fell asleep in front of American Idol, Alex must have moved me to our bedroom or I slept-walked there. Alex said I did that a few times. When I woke, the red digital clock on my bedside read 2:32 AM. I dug my face into the pillow, pissed I had woken up in the middle of the night. I turned my head and came to the realization Alex was missing if he was ever in bed, to begin with.

I padded across our cold wooden floors barefoot in the dark before I saw the back patio light on and the faint shadow of Alex. I stepped one foot out and saw him, notebook in lap, cigarette in hand, gazing out onto the dark backyard, deep in thought.

"You shouldn't be smoking with your eye," I said hoarsely.

His head tilted back to look at me and he had a soft smirk on his face. "I'll live. Just needed something to relax."

"Take an edible then."

He vibrated off laughter and tapped the ash off his cigarette. "I'll find a different excuse."

I kept one foot outside and one inside, asking, "Do you want some company?"

He shook his head, insisting, "No, no. You sleep."

I was hesitant to move. "You sure?"

Alex nodded. "Yeah, yeah. Just finishing up some writing. I'll be in soon."

"Okay."

I returned to bed and fell asleep before Alex came back but when I woke up in the late morning he was asleep beside me. I wondered what Alex wrote. The beginning verses to "Stuck on the Puzzle" or if he never picked up his pen to begin with? Maybe I read too much into it but Alex never had qualms about me keeping him company while he wrote and our late-night smokes were ritualistic at that point. I believed he thought about something else. Me. Something too personal to share.

With both of us, those secrets that we kept from one another were exclusively worries. I can't help but think Alex knew what was eventually to come from my contact with Jackson. I can't help but think he worried. He always worried, suffering in silence. I screamed about everything and he sat with it, let it stir and brew for days, months, years. It was a habit of our 20s. But Alex always seemed to know, a habitual psychic and I was the palm in his hand.

It didn't end up being a book, not at first, but we did a trial period in which I submitted to Jackson who began shopping my pieces around to publishers. I was terrified and didn't tell anyone other than Alex and Opal for fear it would fall through and fail. Jackson felt confident and I supposed that helped, although I couldn't comprehend a world where I wrote a book, even though, for years, I had already written books in my notebook.

I tried not to think about it much. We were coming up on Alex going back on tour again and the question of whether to stay in LA rose, which was really just whether I would. I didn't like the thought of being in LA without Alex. I found the city rather unappealing but I didn't know where I'd return to. London was an option but I don't know how at home I would've felt there. It's cheesy to say Alex is my home because he's a person and I found that statement to be rather exaggerated. In those days, I just felt more comfortable wherever he was, maybe because I was so aimless myself, but I knew that I finally found a direction to go in.

One of my pieces did end up in The Village Voice. Alex paid to have a print copy sent, and he framed it. It embarrassed me so much that I stuffed it into drawers when we had guests over.

One night, we went to a party on some random Monday and sat on the uncomfortable fancy chairs, drinking cocktails. Alex had an Old Fashioned, I had a Cosmopolitan. It was an affair with some elegance, though I can't remember what it was actually for. We both vowed not to get drunk because we couldn't be hungover on a Tuesday.

I had my hand on Alex's knee and he had his arm around the back of my chair. I think the dinner they served was chicken but I don't remember. It wasn't very good either way.

"Do you think I should get my Master's?" I asked Alex.

He sipped his drink with his left hand and lightly tapped my shoulder with his right. "Why would you do that?"

I shrugged and picked up my Cosmo, trying to be Carrie Bradshaw in hopes it would get me a job as luxurious as hers. Or maybe just the clothes and the apartment. "Something to do. I like the idea of going to school here."

Alex's brows furrowed as he looked over at me. "But you hated school."

"That's not true."

He chuckled. "J, you complained about it all the time."

Maybe I did. I don't remember. It's like when people have babies and they forget how hard labour was so their bodies trick them into having more kids. "I liked the structure of it. Plus, a Master's would allow a more flexible schedule and you'll be away on tour soon so it'd be something to do."

Alex shook his head. "I don't think you'd like it."

I frowned. "Maybe I would."

"I mean..." Alex searched for what to say. "I just think you're getting somewhere with your writing and you're running away from it."

I rested my head on my hand. "Maybe."

Alex reached out and pushed my hair out of my face. "Whatever you do you'll be great at. Just do what you love, okay?"

His smirk put me on edge and I raised my eyebrow. "What? Like you?"

"Huh?" His face looked puzzled, worried that he had offended me somehow.

"I love you so you want me to do you?"

He threw his head back in laughter. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Janie."

The whole Master's idea felt foolish. So, I decided to do it, except it was March and way past the time for applications. In the meantime, I tried to figure out what I would do while Alex was away. I felt I should have wanted to leave Los Angeles after all my bitching and moaning, but something drew me to stay. There was a new friend in Opal but I didn't have any job prospects through her or Jackson. Freelance could fit but I didn't want it to fit. The idea of me writing a book burrowed more inwardly to my mind as Jackson stopped mentioning book deals and directed me more toward staff writing jobs to get my name out there.

But I felt that LA had wrapped its warmth around me and suffocated me long enough to want to stay. I liked America and I liked the city, but I also had a visa to worry about. I was over on a tourist Visa and since all work I had done was freelance, I was paid as if I was located in England still. I could fly back and stay for another 180 days or I could get a work visa, which meant getting a job.

That's when Condé Nast appeared. Jackson had unofficially become my unpaid job seeker, doing it solely for me as a favour. I suspected he felt bad for not achieving a book deal and decided to help me out. The Condé Nast position was for a product writer and reviewer. The issue was I had no history with a full-time writing job, but either Jackson had connections or they felt pity for me, too, so I got the job.

So, it wasn't LA, it would be New York.

Alex loved the idea and boasted about it to everyone, kissing my cheek after each statement, and squeezing me to his side. As for New York, he simply said, "It's your turn."

He would be away on tour anyway, so it didn't matter much other than that he would crash at whatever housing I picked in New York. We flew to New York in June. I had never been to New York in the summer. I had never been with Alex in New York.

Usually on our excursions, I dragged Alex around the town and up the hills. In New York, Alex dragged me to the Strand, Chelsea Hotel, the Mudd Club, the Transit Museum, and, most importantly, the turtle pond in Central Park.

Beside the box turtles and red-eared sliders, Alex and I rested against a rock as they padded their way shoreside. He wore a baby blue shirt and picked at his jeans, his mannerisms the same as when I spotted him across the room. "Do you remember when you used to have writing on your jeans?"

He looked up at me, smiling, pushing his hair behind his ears, pounds of fluff. "Yeah."

"What was written on them?" Those blurs of red markings and my wish to know those depths of his soul as if what he was really thinking was written on the knees of his jeans.

He shrugged and almost shamefully said, "Just song lyrics. Strokes and stuff."

"You wrote on them?"

"Yeah."

"I always figured that your mates had written on them. My Converses used to be covered in Joanie's handwriting and hearts." I hadn't thought of her for a long time. Nothing in America reminded me of Wakefield and so Joanie never came to mind.

Alex broke me out of my thoughts, asking, "Can I write on your trainers?"

I raised my eyebrows. "On my new shoes? Can I write on your jeans?"

"Sure." He pulled a pen from his pocket and handed it to me. His quickness made me hesitate but I pulled the pen from his fingers and thought of what to write. I could've drawn a penis but I wasn't that cruel. The black pen was faint against the dark blue denim but I repeated my sketching until the letter was clear enough. I wrote my name because I couldn't think of anything else. What's more beautiful than a person's name? Gross.

Alex seemed to like it, a grin upturning on his face, and an eyebrow raised against me. "Why don't you draw a heart around it?"

I rolled my eyes. "Do you want me to put an arrow through it too?"

He laughed but said, "Sure." I didn't add the heart or arrow. It would be too cheesy and ruin my beautiful cursive name. I returned the pen to him and he tapped his hand over the writing. "With me every step of the way."

I giggled, both embarrassed and charmed. "You gonna get it tattooed?"

I joked but he took it shockingly seriously. "Do you want me to?"

I bolded my eyes and tilted my head. "Stop," I chastised him. "I'm not trying to brand you. I won't even let you write on my shoes and you're willing to get me permanently on your body?"

"Those are nice shoes," he countered.

"You've got a nice body," I argued.

"It'll add to it."

Whether it was sweetness or idiocy, it did feel like love. I raised my legs and plopped my feet in his lap. "Alright. Write away on them then." They were just trainers anyway and his name in a heart with an arrow through it was worth much more.

Afterwards, we toured an apartment. Previous apartments we had toured had been far above my expected salary. Alex had this need to contribute to the apartment's rent despite not getting a break from touring until late October. I had a need to pay rent for myself. I never lived on my own and I felt this apartment should be my apartment, even though Alex's stuff would be there.

Alex understood all of this, although still pushed to contribute some to the rent and, well, I'm never one to deny financial assistance so we made a deal that he would pay me for storing his stuff while he was gone and I would pay for the rest. This all meant those apartments next to Central Park were out of the question. So, we headed downtown, Petula Clark style.

"You know, this area is called SoHo too?" I asked him as we walked down Thompson Street. He shook his head and I explained, "It's because it's south of Houston Street. So. Ho."

He chuckled and nodded. "It'll be like a little piece of home with you."

It turned out to be. I found a place on Prince Street for a reasonable amount. 1 bed. 1 bath. Windows that drenched the floors in sunlight, a big closet, and—the thing I was most excited for—a bathtub.

On our first night there, Alex and I attempted to do the romantic having-a-bath-together thing. I purchased a bubble bath solution from Target and Alex got a bottle of wine from Wine and Spirits. We felt very American in both stores.

"I can't remember the last time I took a bath," Alex said as he sank into the warm oasis.

"They used to just spray you down with a hose, right?" I joked as I sipped on my wine.

Alex cupped his hand in the water and sent a splash my way. "Hey! You got water on the floor. And in my wine." I frowned at the bubbles resting on the surface of the wine.

"I'll get you another glass," he said as he stood.

I reached out and grabbed his leg. "Don't leave."

At my request, he sank back into the water. "Here. You can have mine." He stuck out his half-full glass. I leaned forward and kissed the back of the hand that was holding it. My version of thank you as I took the glass from his hand.

He stretched his legs out and we kept poking each other until I took Alex's feet into my lap. I lightly rubbed on the left one, his big toe sticking out above the water. I felt sinking in myself and refused to look at him. I was becoming too soft. "I'm gonna miss you."

Alex sighed. I knew he hurt more than me. I missed him and we loved each other the same but I knew he had to deal with two kinds of pain. His and mine. We had to deal with missing each other and he had to deal with the guilt. I always told him it was ridiculous to feel guilty because I never held any resentment toward him for going away. But I guess we never properly addressed all that ugly stuff from the past, only in fights, and we never concluded properly, just in exhaustion.

But I think we both knew that communication would be the difference this time. The band was more established. I was more established. I think I would have hated being alone in our LA house without Alex but something about New York, feeling it was mine, made me feel a little freer.

"I'm sorry," he said.

I shook my head. "Don't apologize. I'm proud of you."

"Proud of you too." I looked up to see the big smile on his face. You know, it heals anything.

I slide deeper into the tub, the water covering my neck. I was bare-skinned and my insides were beginning to feel the same. "I'm nervous."

"We'll be fine," he assured.

I shook my head. "I know. I'm nervous for me. Being alone and the new job."

His hand found my leg in the water, stroking it. "You'll make friends in no time and you're a whiz."

"But what if I hate it?" I sounded wobbly like I was about to tip off the edge.

Alex, the calm force dragging me through life, said, "Then, on to the next thing."

I held a smile to him. One he returned. "My mother would say I'm being picky."

"Your mother who drinks for a living?"

I held offence when Alex spoke of my mother. The things he said were true but my whole life I’ll feel the need to protect her. At that age, I still felt destined to unknowingly become her. In that way, Alex was insulting future me. "Hey! She does other things. Probably."

Alex laughed and pulled his feet from me, curling his legs. "Alright. I'm cramping here." He rose from the tub, swishing the water around, peeking at the edges.

I gasped. "Even if the foot rub I gave you?"

We moved out of LA pretty quickly but yet again transporting all your belongings from one side of the country to another was a pain. We enlisted the help of friends but in New York, we were on our own for the most part, other than some hired movers. We weren't getting that couch up the stairs.

The band did a few festivals in Europe in July before returning for a New York show at the beginning of August. I was only a few weeks into my job and it was the fulfillment and structure I needed, although I wasn't doing much writing. I was fine with working my way up, setting an achievement, and moving forward. It was a mostly new idea for me.

After their concert, we did the ritual of bar hopping. I invited my new friend, Tasha, and her boyfriend to join us, however, her boyfriend ditched her after the show, which led her to get very drunk and weepy and therefore pulled me away from any time of catching up with the group. Although, they seemed very consumed by the drama.

"I don't mean to put this all on you," she cried to me. "But he said he was gonna buy me a drink tonight and I—" she was taking away into sobs.

"I'll buy you a drink," Matt offered.

"Really?" It was in fact her fifth drink. She had quickly consumed the first 2 from the rounds and pulled the other 2 from me. "I really liked him, you know. I love him, I think."

"We know, sweetie." I felt bad for her but all the crying was becoming quite tiresome, especially with a girl you had only known 2 weeks in the setting of an office space.

She sat up straight, wiping away that wetness on her face when Matt arrived back with a drink. For the time being, she calmed her waterworks with a gulp of liquor. "You wouldn't do this to Jane, would you Alex? Why can't I find a guy like that?"

I chuckled, "Alex ditches me all the time."

To the side of me, Alex's head snapped to me. "What?" His face was etched with a furrowed brow and a frown.

I turned to him wide-eyed and confused. "What?"

"I don't ditch you."

My mouth created a slight opening in bafflement. "Yeah, you do. Or did." I turned back to Tasha. "Either way, they're all assholes, you just have to find the asshole that fights you."

"Ha. Asshole." Jamie laughed.

While Jamie found humour in the situation and Tasha found slight comfort, Alex found offense. "You think I'm an asshole?"

I turned back to him. "Yeah. Don't you think I'm a bitch?"

His eyes were wide at the word like we were kids taught to put coins in the swear job. His response was quick. "No."

I tried my best to give it to him in an explanation that would placate him. "Okay. Well, I get on your nerves or whatever. Either way, you just have to find the guy that fits you. Now, I think we should get you a cab." Tasha nodded with a sniffle.

After I stuck Tasha in a cab, I stayed outside to have a cigarette. I had a weird feeling in my stomach that I wasn't sure if it was from the alcohol or something emotional. I had a rash on my left leg that I labelled as being from stress but I wasn't sure what it was stress from. I felt a pressure on my chest and the perfect solution was a cigarette.

It wasn't a smoke signal for Alex to join me although I should have thought that considering our history and the perfect view from our table out the window to the street. He came out halfway through the ash and walked with hair in his face and hands in his pockets.

When he stepped in front of me, I reached out and brushed his hair out of his face and wondered if he felt this way—this feeling of caring, uncovering someone for your gaze—every time he did it for me. I tucked it behind his ear and peeked the small smile underneath that shaggy head. It tickled me, exposing a silent laugh from my lips.

"You really think I'm an asshole?" He asked. His tone was playful but I knew he was worried I considered him to be one of them. That breed of man who brushed women off after they got their goods as if he hadn't loved and cared for me since the moment we met.

I held my palm over his cheek, holding my hand over his fire, rubbing the lobe of his ear. I just wanted to hold him forever and I felt like crying at the thought I couldn't. I don't know where the sudden emotion came from but I suppose by this point it isn't shocking to find myself crying, especially after 3 drinks outside a bar. I couldn't speak so I shook my head and kept the overwhelming pathos at bay by the rhythmic stroking of his ear.

"I missed you," he said.

I cut any further words he had off with a shake of my head, a dismissiveness I needed. "I don't want to talk about missing each other anymore." The gates fell and I dropped my arm away from his shoulder, picking at my nails as my voice quivered. "All I talk about is missing you."

"Jane."

Exasperated with myself, I shook my head and looked away not to cry. "I just want to enjoy the night." I looked at him, listening attentively, eyes trained on me. "I don't want to think about you leaving tomorrow night and I'm fine, trust me, but I feel this ache all the time and I don't want to feel this ache while you're here and I don't want to talk about this ache because I know it's mutual so let's stop talking about it and pretend that this is just any other night in our lives and we're in Sheffield, grabbing a pint with our mates or something."

I laughed wetly. He reached out to me and brushed my hair behind my ear and it made everything feel alright. "This feels pretty Sheffield, doesn't it?"

"What?"

He shrugged and took out his pack of cigarettes, plucking one, and placing it in between his lips. "Light me up, Janie, would ya?"

A smile tugged my lips and I dug into my purse one-handed for my lighter. He leaned forward, the end of it so close to me I could take a bite of it. I lit the flame between us and then to his cigarette. He took a puff before stepping back to exhale, his eyes stuck with mine.

"I love you. I feel like we don't say that enough," I told him. He stood away from me but I felt so close to him like we had wrapped ourselves up in a fort of blankets, not standing in the humid August streets.

"You don't have to say it for me to know it. Hasn't that always been our MO?" In wordless whispers and those longing stares, we had always spoken with some underlying language that didn't even make perfect sense to us, it was just there.

"Yeah. Still, I want to remind you."

He chuckled and stepped closer, hooking his arm around my neck, and pulled me beneath his chin with a long gaze down at me. "I love you too, Janie. And all the rest."

"The rest?" I questioned.

His Adam's apple bopped and he looked up at the sky for a moment as if God was giving him the all-clear. His eyes reintroduced themselves to me. "There's this weight of love inside me that I'll never be able to express to you. It's just there, a consuming being that flares up whenever you're near me or I think about you. It's this constant. I've had it since I thought your name was Jeanie and I still don't know how to talk about it or what to call it—all this unexpressed love."

"It seems like you did." I tried not to sob. I thought of Tasha, likely crying in a cab, and I know I've always been a fortunate girl and I've been called lucky since birth, but I never felt like I truly won anything other than meaningless games until I was brought to Alex. I thought of all those missteps I could have taken to have never met Alex about how many things had to go a certain way for me to be at that first gig. How—I guess—I have to thank Matt, although that part is reluctant for me to say (a fear it will go to his head). But I kept it all inside and didn't tell Alex this because I think this is part of that weight of love I still can't fully express. "Are you sure it's not a tumor?"

He laughed at me and kissed the top of my head. My cigarette had been scuffed out against his jeans so we shared the rest of his before Alex suggested, "I think we should head home." I had never confessed how romantic I thought the idea of going home with Alex was to me but I have a feeling he just knew because he always just knows.

He took me by the hand and took me back inside the bar where we said goodbye to our party of people and I smacked a kiss on the cheek to each of them. They've always felt like brothers-in-law to me but I found as we grew older and closer, they were my friends too.

We headed back to our apartment, taking the A train. Alex held my purse for me and we sat in a sweaty, non-air-conditioned subway car, and it felt as though we were in London on the tube, praying for a gust of wind to come in through the little window and provide momentary relief.

It was too hot to touch each other's skin so we held a small space between us and knocked knees with one another. Alex sat hunched over, his hands sitting on the top knee of his crossed legs. I leaned back against the plastic orange chair. The train was mostly empty but we filled its quietness with laughter. Halfway through the ride, that sentimental fuzzy part of me took a picture of him. I still owned a flip phone for the sole purpose of having a slideout keyboard, not known for having a good camera, and the photo was mostly unrecognizable to anybody but me, which might be why I liked it so much.

I’d take these photos often and flip through them occasionally when I was waiting for the subway. I printed some out and pinned them on the walls because I didn’t want to buy picture frames. I folded one up and put it in my wallet because I always loved that Alex had a photo of me in his wallet—a tiny crushed-up photo of my graduation portrait, ugly, but he had pride for it and me).

Without Alex, the apartment had succumbed to my mess. There were clothes tossed in the corner of the bedroom, the desk was covered in papers, books, and more clothes, and the kitchen was dealing with a major dishes problem.

The hour was late but we were both determined to soak up as much time with one another as possible. We undressed from the day and dressed for bed, but sat on the edge of our bed over the covers, talking, talking, talking. Two frogs croaking at one another from across the pond. All we needed was Charlton Brook and we'd be our old selves again.

"I never thought I'd like work. I'm not in love with this job but I come home and my feet ache and I love it. I like feeling I worked for something," I told him. "I think I need firm direction in my life otherwise I turn into a mess."

Alex looked pleased but all-knowing. He knew all these parts of me before I did. "You were raised without it so you crave it in other aspects." He leaned back on the bed, putting his arms behind his head, so casual in every sense of the word.

"Who needs a therapist when I have you?" I asked. He laughed but I was serious (both good and bad). He's an observer, he just knows these things from one look at you. He reads you completely and then acts like it's nothing. I feel I know Alex well, better than anyone, but not like he knows me. I've always felt there was a piece of Alex that was off-limits to everyone, even himself sometimes. There's a corner of him I will never reach. For him, my thoughts have always been a nude model on full stark display.

Alex turned onto his side and reached a hand over to me, clasping it with a tight squeeze. "You happy?" It was a quick check-in, the reassurance he needed that he wouldn't leave me totally screwed up and alone. Alex often had the feeling of needing to "rescue me," which was partially true but he took too much on sometimes, bearing the weight of both our emotional states, an overwhelming thing that put so much consequence on the question he asked like I wasn't just answering for me, I was also answering for him.

I squeezed back to ease his anxieties. "Yeah. You?" He stayed silent and looked around the room once, startling my heart. He tugged on my arm once as a smirk spread on his face. "What?"

He tugged again, this time harder. I stared at him quizzically until he pulled once again, yanking me down to lay on top of him. He communicated with his lips, both silent minus gasps. He turned us, hovering over me, flat on my back. We got under the covers.

The following night we stayed in and ordered a pizza before having sex on the couch. After, I laid on Alex's chest, our nude bodies up against each other and I do apologize to anybody who sat on the couch after, I swear it wasn't that dirty. His hands were solid on my back, studying the lower curve of my spine, hitting a spot that made me stretch like a cat after a nap.

I sighed as the tension released from my back and laid back down on his sternum. "We're awfully vanilla," I said.

Alex snorted this big ugly snort of laughter that I find so cute like a baby learning how to breathe. "What, like chains and whips?"

I laughed and raised my head up, my chin pressed on his skin, staring up at his tucked head, awkwardly propped up on the armrest. "No. Georgia just told me this story about doing it on the roof of her building."

An amused Alex asked, "You want to head up on our roof now?"

He motioned sitting up but I pushed him back down. "We have an exposed roof. I'm not getting the cops called on us."

"Where's the fun in that if there isn't a little risk of indecent exposure?" He joked.

I giggled and thought of making a joke about getting visas revoked for public nudity, instead, I told him, "We're hiding tonight. Besides, I don't need all that for sex to be fun with you."

He bucked his hips up against mine. "'Cause I'm so good in bed?" He raised an eyebrow and wore a taunting smirk that made me want to slap and kiss him. How infuriating to be so intoxicated by him.

"'Cause you love me," I teased, tapping his nose. I slobbered a kiss on his cheek, which made him groan in disgust like it was his mother doing it in front of all his friends. "And you're going to take me to get ice cream because I'm thinking about vanilla ice cream now."

"From Morgenstern's?" He asked me, even though he knew the answer.

I sat up from him, noting his eyes on my exposed breasts (sometimes, it's nice to know a man is still a boy), and hummed, "Yes, sir." Morgenstern's sat two blocks up on Houston and in the past few months, I had developed an addiction to their bourbon vanilla ice cream and considered it my special treat after a day of work. Alex was partial to salted chocolate, which I always thought was a good balance with mine, especially since he'd let me steal scoops off his cone and mix it with my cup of ice cream.

Alex went out in jeans, a T-shirt, and his Doctor Martens. I went out in sweatpants, a camisole, and my flip-flops. It was 11:40 and only 2 blocks away!

I was charged up and kissed him behind his ear as he paid for the ice cream. We must have been foul to look at with our hair unbrushed and a careless woman hanging off her good-looking man. I often had little care about how I looked at night in New York. Everyone in New York, one way or another, was loathsome to watch at night so I had no problem with the idea the cashier might have hated us for coming in right before closing, dangling around as we waited. Besides, Alex left a tip.

My hands clawed around Alex's shoulders and I bounced on the balls of my feet as they scooped our ice cream. We ate our ice cream on the small bench they had outside the parlour. Alex ended up with smears of chocolate on the corners of his lips. It was pleasurable to see him so untidy, it would make you laugh and kiss his lips, transferring some of the residue onto you like lipstick.

Alex chased me up the stairs of our apartment building with the menace of pinching my ass to coerce squeals out of me. We caused a ruckus, loud off of our sugar high, but, at the very least, not stumbling drunk up the stairs like some of my other neighbors. Alex caught me at the apartment door. I had no escape, he had the keys. He cornered me and gave a hard pinch working his way up from my butt to my stomach where I was ticklish.

"Mercy! Mercy!" I surrendered. He called off his attack, ready to head inside for some explicitness.

He put the key in, turned it, and then it snapped. He held the bow, the shaft lodged in the lock. "Fuck," he cursed.

Panic set in as Alex fiddled with the doorknob with no luck. "Fuck. Are we locked out?" I asked.

He picked at the lock, muttering, "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck..."

It soon became clear that we were stuck. It was nearing 1 AM, I desperately had to pee, and Alex had to leave in 6 hours. "Can we kick the door in?"

"Are you suggesting either of us is strong enough to break the deadbolt?" Alex stood up straight, tossing his head back in exhaustion.

I shrugged. "I don't know. You're pretty fit." He was proper chuffed by this, a slight puff in his chest. "I could try."

"With your flip-flops?" They were the cheap kind. I bought them at 5 Below. "If we break the door the whole building can walk in."

Not knowing the number of any emergency locksmiths, I called 911 and waited at the bottom two steps of the staircase facing the front door. "I guess this is what I get for eating too much ice cream," I quipped.

"No such thing," Alex excused.

Shrouded in quietness and a reputation of lacking patience, I laid my head on Alex's shoulder and would have fallen asleep if my bladder wasn't prepared to burst. Alex tapped a beat on the denim-covered knee and we didn't talk, just stayed close, two beings huddled together for survival and companionship.

Firefighters came and had no luck removing the broken key so they busted into the apartment. We couldn't lock it but we could at least close it. I rushed in for the bathroom. I laid down on our bed and waited for Alex while he used the bathroom. I fell asleep before he returned.

In the morning, Alex nudged me awake. He was fully dressed and by the light stumbling in through the window, I knew what it meant. "I fell asleep. Why'd you let me?"

"Figured if you fell asleep while I was in the bathroom you were pretty tired." Over the covers, flip flops kicked off the edge of the bed, in the two minutes he was away.

"'Kay." I was still fiddling out of sleep when Alex tapped my arm, an insisting action to make me stay in bed. "Let me walk you out."

"No, stay in bed, it's fine." He kneeled beside the bed, forcing my hand.

"You sure?"

He nodded. "I'll see you in a little. Yeah?" He kept it short. It was the easier way.

I rubbed my eye, knowing I wouldn't be going back to sleep as much as Alex hoped I would. "Yeah. I'll try to get off sometime in September."

"Don't feel pressured. I'll see you in Philly, right?" That would be over a month away, 30th of September.

I nodded because it was easier than speaking. "Call me when you get to Boston."

He donned an assuring smile, leaned down, and kissed me. He left and I made myself a cup of coffee and drank it and sat with silence.

On a Wednesday, after a day of work, I took the train down to Philadelphia. I had never been before and part of me wanted to enjoy all the tourist things about it but I had limited time between 30th Street Station and heading to the Electric Factory.

However, I made a pit stop along the way, getting off the subway, and meeting Alex at the Reading Terminal Market for a late lunch/early dinner. It wasn't the Art Museum or Independence Hall but it allowed a cultural indulgence of the city.

Alex wore a jean jacket and didn't look like a man about to front a sold-out show. We bumped shoulders with passersby as we made our way through the narrow passageways. Alex got a cheesesteak, which I found disgusting. I ate a soft pretzel and assorted candy from a Pennsylvania Dutch candy shoppe.

We managed to find a table wedged between dad with his two kids and a group of high schoolers. Safe to say, we had trouble hearing each other over the chaos but we communicated through shared observations, reacting with a stare at one another as the father began to yell at his son or a laugh at the high schoolers mocking one of their teachers.

We hadn't really spoken until we left the building, stepping out into the beginnings of a crisp autumn evening. Alex bought me ice cream from Bassetts (as if I needed more sugar) and gave the change to a group of busking drummers by the door.

I grabbed Alex's attention at a stoplight as I dragged out, "So..."

He chuckled at my solicitation, dragging out his own, "So..."

The light turned green and we stayed in step with one another. I initiated the conversation but I had no follow-up for my So-ing. Sometimes, I just wanted to look at him but walking and staring is a difficult practice. "One of my pieces is going to be in this magazine n+1. Something I wrote back in LA, Jackson submitted forever ago."

"Is it going to be printed?" He asked.

"Yeah, but I think you can read it online."

Quickly, he shook his head. "I want the physical thing."

I laughed. "Always one for physical media, Al." It was clear with the record collection I was storing in a small New York apartment. You had transferred this habit onto me as I went out to purchase the New York Times from a street kiosk instead of reading it online.

"It'll be easier. I can read it on a plane, on the bus, on the toilet."

I hit his shoulder light-heartedly. "Alright, I'll get you the print."

At the end of October, Alex returned from Tokyo for a small tour break. We fell into a cycle similar to that of our London days. I went to work, Alex stayed home. We went out to dinner sometimes, and we occasionally went out for drinks with my work friends, but more often, we just stayed home. It was a cocoon and I think we both preferred to stay still with one another after distant months apart.

I drank coffee in bed one morning, a Saturday or Sunday with no rush for any obligations, fine with retiring to a day in our shoebox. We were both still in our pajamas. Alex sat on the edge of the bed, facing me, strumming his guitar. I was on my laptop, scrolling through someone's blog, but mostly watching him.

These unguarded moments with his head slumped over his guitar. His hair covered his face almost completely, only able to distinguish his nose from the rest of him. The ends of his hair held these perfect curls that I envied. He's been perceived to be a cool, uncaring person but I've found Alex, especially during these early years, held such a concern about coming off a certain way, whether considered cold or cool. A long-held hatred for unwanted watching, even from me.

His muscles had suspended into relaxation finally. I found he acquired this rest most often with a guitar. He held a light strum, sometimes humming along, sometimes writing a note in his little notebook.

I thought I was catching an unaware Alex working away, much like our first year of knowing each other. Then, he looked up and said, "If you're going to stare at me, you might as well help me." He tossed me his notebook with dashes and scratches that to the untrained eye looked like a chicken scratch of nothing.

I read it and this time I could feel him watching me. I poured over the words as he had done with his writing and when I finished I said, "I feel so inadequate next to you."

"Shut up," he insisted, both through his support of me and his own insecurity.

"It's a beautiful song." I handed the notebook back to him. "A very beautiful love song." I crossed my arms, smiling at him.

"Well, you know."

"Yeah." Because I always did. This loving, hideous, unspoken language of ours.

"Good inspiration. You gave me the title." Alex took months of crafting before giving something exposure, like formulating a fine wine.

"Well, you wrote the rest of it," I reasoned. "Is it for the new album?"

He shrugged and examined his own work. "I don't think so. Maybe just for you and me."

a/n: this is pretty much for goblinontour. the next parts will come much sooner, we're approaching the thick of it... oh, and if you see any mistakes, no you didn’t.

#alex turner fic #alex turner x fem!reader #alex turner x oc #alex turner x reader #alex turner x y/n #alex turner x you #alex turner #alex turner smut #junedenim #beneath the boardwalk

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writing-with-yours-truly · 2 months ago

Note

Could you do one where Reader Javi kate and have been friends forever user and kate are so close there like sisters javi has always liked reader but after what happened to there 3 friends he decided to stay quiet but he still loves users and wants to be with them Reader comes back with Kate to help along the way javi finally tells her because he gets jealous of Tyler ( he doesn't want Reader though he wants Kate) and they finally start to date he's very protective of Reader at the end of the movie her and javi move in together

Okay, I think I got what you were saying. Here we go! Thanks so much for the request, Rachel! I tried to fill this request the best I could. Lots of love!

-------------

Always Been you: Javier (TWISTERS) x Reader

Including: Swearing, angst, fluff, broken Spanish.

Not including: smut, the use of y/n.

---------

(First Person: You)

Javi and I are inseparable. Well. Were. Ever since Addy, Praveen, and Jeb died that day, things changed. He enlisted into the army for a few years, and I moved back to Kansas alone. Javi called a few times before I moved, but we hadn't talked all that much. Eventually, he left the army, and moved back to Oklahoma.

Sooner than later, I got a call from him. Enthusiastic, I clicked 'accept' and held my phone to my ear. "Javi!" I enthusiastically exclaim. "Hey, sunshine. I have a question for you." It sounded like he was sorting papers. I myself was making dinner. Microwave dinner.

"Shoot 'em out," I replied, pressing the four on the microwave. "Alright. While I was in the army, they came up with these scanners, we shortened the name to PAR. Anyways, we used them to scan for missiles, and I was wondering if..."

"We used it to scan a storm?" I finished.

"A tornado," Javi corrected. "But these things were huge, so my team and I made these portable units that do the exact same thing. They could help people! But, we haven't been able to track a good enough storm down to do it. So, what do you say? Wanna go storm chasin'?"

--------

After a long while of convincing, he got me to meet him at this gas station in Oklahoma.

I got there, and decided to go in because it was at least a 5 hour drive, and I had only stopped once to go to the bathroom.

I went into the bathroom and washed my hands up before returning to the store part of the station. I looked at the snacks and decided on getting some of my favorite candies and drinks.

Suddenly, I heard a voice behind me. "Hey there, sunshine." I turn around and am face to face with the one and only Javier Rivera. My arms immediately went around him, and he returned the gesture, running a hand through my hair like he always did. I took in a deep breath. He smelled the same. A hint of his Old Spice, and cinnamon. With just a hint of aftershave.

I looked up at him and oh my God, had he changed. His long curly hair was trimmed into a neat cut -but was still curly-, and he looked more...Professional? He was still attractive, if anything the new look made him even more.

"How've you been?" I managed to ask after pulling out of the hug.

"I've been pretty good. Left the army. Joined Storm PAR. Not too big of a change," Javi answered.

"Not big? Javi, you literally changed up in so many ways."

"But for the better, right?" He asked me. "Yeah," I managed to say after a few moments of silence.

He eventually leads me out to his truck with a decal on the back that says "Lion". Inside the passenger seat was none other than...

"Kate!" I exclaimed, running over to her door. She stepped out and gave me the biggest hug. "I've missed you so much!"

Kate smiled, replying, "I missed you too."

Javi, after we caught up, briefed me and Kate on what Storm PAR was and what was going to happen today. While he was explaining how to use the PAR systems, loud music began to play, and trucks and cars and RV's began to pull in.

"Who's that?" I asked, looking as people flooded out of their cars to the main red truck. "That right there," Scott began, pointing out the red truck. "That's Tyler Owens. Self-proclaimed 'Tornado Wrangler'. Hillbilly with a YouTube channel."

I scoffed lightly, watching the blonde climb out of the truck, handing t-shirts out. He was attractive, I'll admit. But he'd never be as attractive as Javi.

I felt Javi's eyes burning holes through the side of my head, so I turned to look at him. "We ready to roll?" I asked.

------------

That chase didn't turn out as expected. Tyler Owens had decided to follow us and ruin the plans, while Kate freaked out, and we abandoned the chase all together. We ended up staying at a hotel -which Tyler and his gang stayed at as well!- Javi, Kate, and I all shared a room.

I sat on the roof of the Storm PAR truck, thinking, before Tyler came over. "So, your friend from New York," He started. "She really from there?"

I snap out of my thoughts, turning to look at Tyler. He's being genuine. "No. She's from Oklahoma," I replied, crossing my arms. "Doesn't surprise me. She doesn't seem like the City Girl type," Tyler replied, taking a sip of his Corona beer.

"Nope."

Silence lingered between us.

"You from the city?"

"Me?"

"Yeah."

"No, I'm actually from Kansas."

"How'd you and City Girl meet?"

"Through college. Majoring in the same thing. I dropped out two weeks before graduation, though."

"Why?"

"It's a long story. I--"

The conversation ceased when Javi came over. "Hey, I need to talk to you." He glanced at Tyler. "Alone."

I get off the roof of the truck and bid farewell to Tyler. Following Javi, I wonder why he wanted to talk to me.

We got into the hotel room, and I sat down on the futon, while he sat on the couch. "So, you and Tyler?" He asked.

"What about him?" I replied.

"You like 'im?" He glared at me from the couch.

"No. Javi, that's ridiculous." I tried to plead.

"I know you do, sunshine. I'm not stupid."

"I don't, Javi! Why, are you jealous?"

That struck a nerve.

"No! It just means I don't have a chance!"

I look at him, confused. "A chance at what?"

"A chance at being with you."

Silence followed that comment.

"God, I've liked you for so long and it's stupid I haven't said anything. And now that Owens-"

"Javi, I don't like Owens. I like you. I always have."

Javi looked at me instead of his twitching thumbs. "Really?" He asked. "Yeah. It's always been you," I replied.

He got up from his seat and sat next to me. He tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear, and pressed his lips to mine. They tasted like salt from the French fries he had earlier. My hand snaked to his hair, before he pulled back.

"Sorry if that was too straightforward, I--"

I pulled him back in for a kiss, shutting him up.

And that's how the rest of the night went.

#anthony ramos #twisters #fluff #x reader #javi x reader #Javier x reader #twisters x reader #javi twisters x reader #twisters 2024 #javier rivera x reader #thank you for requesting <3

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billthedrake · 5 months ago

Text

TRAINING THE SALES GUY (PART SIX)

Previous chapters here: https://www.gaydemon.com/stories/Training_the_Sales_Guy_42206.html

I was supposed to be the one training my co-worker Carson, but the next business trip was more the other way around.

"The Dream Team is back," he said when I showed up at the gate area of the airport. Carson always got there early, and I always cut it close. He looked like a million bucks, in his slim-cut suit and neatly trimmed hair cut and beard. I knew things were just a sex-buddy dynamic between us, and that we were coworkers first. And Carson Wells had a bro-ish personality that was good in small doses but got on my nerves sometimes. But if the dude was gay I'd probably be getting more than a little crushed out on him.

"You probably say that to the other account execs," I teased as I took a sip of coffee.

Maybe that was a pissy thing to say and Carson would read some jealousy into it. But he just smiled back and laughed. "I forgot how cranky you are in the morning, Boss."

Those baby blues and that flirty disposition was making me wonder how good I was at maintaining my defenses and boundaries.

"It's why I'm single, Wells." I figured some self-deprecating humor would help.

"I doubt that," he said with surprising sincerity. "You just got off your game, Boss. When was the last time you went on a date?"

Maybe Carson had an ulterior motive for asking. A way of saying that nothing romantic or permanent was going to develop between us. But his tone was natural, on the level. I realized that he probably talks this way to his bro buddies in the office, and this was his way of including me in that work-friend category.

I sat down next to him. "About two months ago. When was your last date, Wells?"

He flashed his pearly white smile. "Had two last week, Boss. Different chicks.... it's a lot of effort, but I enjoy the hunt, you know?"

"I get that," I said. I'd been like that when I was in my 20s. But after the divorce, I'd had fun with more casual sex but found the process of using apps a fucking chore.

As we drifted into small talk, and then lined up to board the flight, a deep part of me hoped Carson wasn't so successful at his dating that he'd cut me off entirely. Then another part of me hoped for that very thing.

****

We were all business that day. Carson was particularly focused on our presentation. He was normally in the zone on our sales calls, but that day he was nervous I could tell. It was a huge prospective client, and it would mean a fat commission for Wells. It was getting to him.

I pulled him aside during a quick break an hour and a half in. "Relax, buddy," I said. "We got this."

I could see the tension in his handsome face. "Yeah?" Not believing me but appreciative of my forced confidence.

I shrugged. "It's a like a date. You can't want her too much, or it's all fucked up."

Hell, I didn't know how straight guys dated, but the advice seemed to work. "Yeah," he said.

We did good but not great. It might not matter, depending on what the company wanted. I wasn't going to sweat it. We'd come in and done our part. The rest was out of our hands.

And Carson was back in fine form over the dinner. We'd taken a number of the contacts out to a nice steak restaurant, and Wells was in classic sales guy mode. Chatty but not too chatty, able to engage with everyone at the table, comfortable in mixing business with pleasure.

And he was in a good mood after, as we got back to our hotel.

"Wanna come to my room, Boss?" he asked.

I wasn't expecting this. It had been a long day. And if it had been anyone other than Carson I might have even begged off getting my cock sucked.

"Sounds great, Wells," I said.

We wheeled our luggage to the elevator, and I think we both had smirks on our faces as we rode up.

"I guess we're getting more comfortable with this," Carson said, speaking the very thought I was thinking.

I nodded. "If you ever don't feel comfortable, Carson, please let me know." I'd gone too far in this affair to be safe from HR consequences, but at least I wanted to give Carson an out any time he felt like it.

He laughed. I expected him to make a crack about uptight Bill, but instead he said, "It's crazy. I knew I liked sucking dick, but you got me into the other stuff, Boss... I even watch the videos you sent."

Indeed I'd discovered a new Pornhub guy with a very minimal gag reflex and no inhibitions about working the one he had.

I was getting turned on, surprisingly by Carson's candor as much as anything. "Well it's really hot to experience your skills," I said, my voice almost cracking into a whisper.

The elevator dinged and we wheeled our bags down the hall. Carson tapped his key card and we entered.

"Um, Carson... can I ask you something?" I started. "What makes you like it?" I'd been afraid to ask. Afraid I'd spook this straight guy with a major bi streak.

He'd clearly been asking himself the same question. "I dunno, Boss... it's just... when you use my throat, it's like I'm not the one who needs dick, you're just feeding it to me."

I didn't quite follow. "You afraid of being gay, Carson?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I mean, I'm not gay, thought maybe you don't believe me."

"I believe you," I replied. "But it doesn't matter if I do."

He took that in. "Yeah. I guess having a cock in my mouth always feels like the last thing I should be doing, and the taboo of it gets me off."

"The forbidden fruit thing is hot for me too," I said.

Carson's blue eyes twinkled in amusement. "Fuck yeah it is, Boss." He pulled out his phone and wallet and set them on the table. "I think the fact you're a fag..." he stopped himself. "Sorry boss... but I think that when your cock is in my mouth and it takes me to this fucked up place."

I didn't know what to make of it. But I was getting head from Carson more than I ever dreamed of, so I decided not to get pissed off. "Please don't get therapy, Carson," I joked. "At least not anytime soon."

That made the guy laugh. He's so fucking sexy when he laughs. "Don't worry, Boss."

With that he knelt down in front of me. I was already hard and Carson's touch at my crotch made me harder. He teased and massaged my ridge in my suit pants, then pulled my zipper down.

"OK if we start with some old-fashioned head?" he asked.

"Yeah," I croaked. "More than OK." I'd been enjoying the more extreme throat training lately, but a standard Carson Wells BJ was always gonna get me off big.

He licked my dick up and down, before pulling back. "You mad at me for what I said?" he asked.

I nodded. "A little, yeah." I figured I should be honest. "But I'm not gonna stay mad at you, Carson. Just don't call me that again. You can think it or whatever."

"Yeah," he sighed. He was genuinely contrite. He seemed to be taking in my cock with his hungry eyes, examining my length and girth.

Then, slowly he opened his mouth and descended on me.

"Oh fuck!" I hissed. Carson's mouth felt great. I knew I'd spend the next day wondering if these blowjobs were keeping me from finding a boyfriend, even a casual one. Carson Wells had gone from top 5 in his oral skills to top cocksucker in my life experience, period. The best I'd ever have, I knew.

I looked down as he blew me. His hunky body in his navy suit, head bobbing up and down. I could hear the spit and the suction around my prick and the rhythmic soft moans from this throat. He was working himself deeper on my pole, working up to a deep throat. Not fast but steady, knowing what he was doing. He was getting me to that place, fast, that build up of pleasure, and then it was like his mouth and throat was gonna milk the load out of my balls.

Only he pulled off instantly and gripped the base of my prick, pinching it slightly. "Goddamn, you're worked up tonight, Boss."

"Jesus, Wells," I exclaimed.

My excitement made him smile. "See? Sometimes it's better not to have to go all hardcore and shit." He let go of my dong and started tonguing the bottom half of the shaft. With anyone else, it might look slutty, but I knew Carson was mostly trying to let me enjoy this without blowing too soon. It worked, sort of.

There was a clear excitement for him, too, as he looked up at me, hands on his trousers, gym-toned chest showing between the spread lapels of his coat. Unlike me, he wasn't wearing a tie but instead rocking that more millennial business-bro look. It suited him.

"Thanks for letting me initiate this, Boss," he said softly. "I don't know if I'd like it the other way."

In my head our affair wasn't one-way, but I knew what Carson meant. "You do a lot for me, Wells... I want you comfortable with it."

He nodded. He reached down and fiddled with his zipper and belt. Often he didn't like jerking, and I think he was shy of letting me see his dick. But Carson was pulling it out now and wrapping his fist around it just as he leaned back forward.

"MMMmmh," he moaned around my prick as he swallowed me. He'd gotten warmed up already so now was just a skilled, silky deep throating. Up and down, six, seven inches at a time. Almost bouncing. Carson was driving his blowjob but he was abusing his throat all on his own. Deep throating me, faster and faster, till he was spearing his gullet with rhythmic gutteral sounds.

"God yes," I hissed. Watching him do a sword swallowing thing like a pro.

I heard the gurgle of a gag on one down stroke then that familiar mucusy slickness on my meat, dripping out of Carson's mouth and onto my balls. That did it for me.

"Shit!" I muttered. And I was cumming down Wells' throat.

He slowed his mouth strokes just enough to be able to swallow my semen comfortably. And as he rode out the aftershocks of my orgasm, he stroked himself to completion.

Carson finally pulled back, a flush look of sexual satisfaction on his face, which must have matched mine.

"Thanks you, Wells.... you outdid yourself." I wanted to give him every compliment I could.

He smirked. "Yeah, I've been wanting to try that, Boss." He looked down at his hand. It was covered in his own jizz. Carson shoots a lot. He got up off his knees, holding his hand out to keep the dripping load from getting on his suit. I'd have to get mine cleaned, but it would be worth it.

He wiped off then offered me the Kleenex box. I used a couple to handle the spit and throat slime. There were some cum dribbles too but Carson took care of most of those. I tucked back in and sighed.

"We good, Wells?" I asked.

His green eyes met mine. "Yeah, we're good."

I wanted to kiss him bad. But that wasn't in the cards. So I grabbed my luggage and gave Carson one last nod before walking out of his room and over to mine.

As I got ready for bed, I thought over the evening. Sometimes I had real misgivings about fooling around with my straight-ish coworker. But that night I had none. The sex was hot as hell.

****

"You up?" came the text bright and early the next morning.

I was up, but barely. It was pretty early. "Yes. Still on East Coast time."

"Can I come by?"

My morning wood throbbed. "Sure."

Fuck, this was too easy. Wells was going to make me look forward to business travel all right.

I wasn't decent when he showed up a minute later. But that didn't matter. Carson had on only a pair of gym shorts and athletic shirt. The shorts didn't hide a thick boner.

"Hey," he said, morning voice making him sound deeper.

I ushered him in. "Hey," I laughed. It was a little absurd how carried away we were getting. But Carson's body was looking really fucking good in those clothes.

"I was jerking off and I thought the hair of the dog might be in order."

I smiled. I was now self conscious that Carson noticed the boner in my underwear. "I'm surprised I have anything left in the tanks after last night. You drained me, buddy."

Wells had a slightly nervous look on his face now. "You not up for it?" he asked.

"I'm very up for it," I replied.

I took the initiative and peeled down my briefs. By now Wells had seen my cock a lot but I wasn't sure how often I was completely naked.

The man's eyes were pretty much on my dick though, till he took them away and looked back up at me. "You OK if we try something new, Boss?"

"After last night... you can try out as much as you want," I said.

He grinned and peeled off his shirt. I'd never have a body that could compete with his, but that was OK. "I've been watching some videos. I guess they give me ideas."

My heart was pounding now. I wasn't expecting a two-fer on this trip. So it was a nice surprise. Particularly as Carson slid down his gym shorts. He was hard and I could see his dick still was covered in a lot of lube. I wondered how long the guy had been jerking off that morning.

My own bone twitched as I watched my coworker lie down on his back, settling in on the unmade bed, till his head lay just past the edge. I didn't need a diagram to know what he had in mind. I stepped up, hands on my hips and positioned my cock above his face.

Wasting no time, Carson leaned up, attacking my nuts with his tongue before I angled my prick to let him lick that. As he did, he jerked his cock, not fast, just enough to prime the pump during this foreplay ritual.

"Fuck, Boss, you have a great cock," he hissed. Hearing that was enough to make me spurt some precum on his chin and neck. Carson could tasted it was he licked his way to the head.

I swiveled my hips back to give him access. That tongue laved all around my head, slobbering it down. Carson wasn't shy about extra spit with me now and excess saliva dripped down his face.

"God fucking damn, Wells," I hissed as I watched the lewd sight.

He muttered something then more spit ran out just before he swallowed me.

The trick of being an oral top, particularly for the more extreme sucking, is knowing when you can take charge. Carson was ready. I reached down and pressed against his shoulder. To steady him but also to let him know I was coming in.

Wells grunted along my cock but was ready. I steadily speared his throat, from the inner part to the deeper reaches. He quickly stopped jerking and I realized it was to keep from coming. Wells was loving this shit.

I pulled back and thrust in again. And again. Wells' throat was snug and wet and alive. I don't know why we hadn't done this before, but we were doing it now.

I heard his soft grunts and felt his excitement as I steadily fucked his throat. Taking my hands off his shoulder, I leaned forward. That meant I couldn't watch his face and throat as easily, but the better thrusting angle made it worth while.

I just went for it. Not super rough, but steady firm thrusts deep into Carson's gullet in rapid succession. Figured I could stir the pot and see if I could get some nice slime.

It took a half minute, a half minute of watching Carson's dick jerk in excitement before I heard and felt it.

I stopped and withdrew. To give Wells a break and check in on him, but also to see that trophy. That milky mucus was thick around my bone but I didn't realize just how much there was until I pulled out completely and watched thick river of slime run down his handsome face.

"Fuck!" he gasped, chest rising and falling as he caught his breath.

"You OK, Wells?" I asked.

He was beet red and not opening his eyes but he grunted a yes. "Go for it, Boss."

I got back in place. Entry was easier this time. And as I fucked his face I heard the sloppy wet sloshing.

"Gonna cum..." I said.

That was the cue. He grabbed his own dick and jerked in rapid strokes.

We came together. My dick pumping its morning load straight into his guts as his own fired out. Like I say, Carson's a gusher, and I enjoyed watching several streaks of thick cum land on his muscular body.

I knew I had to give him a break now, and fast. I wasn't rough, but quickly I pulled out.

He sucked in some air while I went to get a washcloth for him. He seemed grateful for it and as he sat up he wiped his face down.

"Damn, Boss, you're hardcore."

I nodded. "I got news for you Wells, you're pretty hardcore yourself."

He finished wiping off and I took the cloth from him. It was only then that we felt self conscious being fully naked with one another.

Carson looked at the clock. "Well, I'm not getting my morning workout in, I guess," he said, acknowledging the time. We had about a half hour before we had to leave to the airport. "But fuck I was horny."

I gave a nod and watched Carson find his clothes.

"You're getting really good at this, Carson," I said. Not just complimenting him, but acknowledging that he was taking the throat abuse like a pro.

He pulled on his T shirt and flashed a grin. "I am, aren't I?"

"You doing anyone else?" I asked. I don't know why I did, but curiosity got the best of me.

He seemed offended though. "Would it bother you if I did?" he asked.

I shook my head and gave the best contrite expression I could. "Not at all. You're your own man, Wells. Just curious was all."

That seemed to put him at ease, but his voice was still quiet. "You're the only dude I suck, Boss."

"Cool," I said. I gave a pause. "I know this arrangement is weird as fuck, Wells. But anytime you offer head, I'm not gonna turn you down."

He liked that. "You'll find a boyfriend to focus on, Boss," he said. He'd bene thinking about that. "In the meantime, let's just have fun, OK?"

Dude actually fist bumped me on the way out of my hotel room.

***

Carson upgraded on the flight back, while I stayed in coach. I was glad not to have to make small talk. Still, I felt a strange elation when I got the news on my work phone as we landed. The decision was fast. We'd won the prospect as a client.

Carson was waiting for me at the gate in the terminal. "The Dream Team did it!" he growled, pulling me into a bear hug.

I hugged him back. "You're buying me drinks with that commission money, Wells."

#drakestories

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