#cannot emphasise enough how much my dog was minding his business

[louisisworthit]

*

[artistic-writer]

The Contract :: CS Omegaverse :: Ch 5

Title: The Contract Rating: E Summary: Emma had never wanted much in her life, despite being married to one of the richest men in the world. For ten years she has felt like a prisoner in her own marriage, denied the one thing she wants the most, but her husband cannot help but bargain her want like a cheap business deal.  Enter Killian Jones, the Alpha her husband has hired to make sure she gets what she wants. And then some. A/N: Here is ch 5!! Graham is still a dick, Emma is very naughty and Killian buys a sex toy!  This chapter is so much fun ;) Enjoy!  Thanks to @kmomof4 who beta’d this one, because she is awesome <3 I would also like to give a MASSIVE thank you to @itsfabianadocarmo for her beautiful artwork that she so graciously allowed me to use from now on! <3

This is an Omegaverse fic featuring A/B/O dynamics.  Whilst this varies from fandom to fandom, for the purposes of my fic, there will be no mpreg.  Just so you know.  There will however be knotting, breeding, heats and other delicious things that come along with A/B/O.  If you do not know what A/B/O is, feel free to message me :)  Many thanks to @hollyethecurious @shardminds @kmomof4 @darkcolinodonorgasm @resident-of-storybrooke and @effulgentcolors for letting me bounce my complicated ideas of you lol

If you wish to stay away from this fic, blacklist the A/B/O tag.

Taglist:  I’ll be honest, i have lost my taglist for this fic, so if you want a tag, please message me here on on discord (Salem #5158/ itwontalwaysbelikethis@gmail.com) and I’ll add you!  I’ve tagged the following people i KNOW want to read this, but i don’t want to accidentally tag you if you do not like ABO.

@hollyethecurious @shardminds @kmomof4 @resident-of-storybrooke @darkcolinodonorgasm @thisonesatellite @xemmaloveskillianx @hookedonapirate @teamhook​ @winterbaby89​ @carpedzem​ @courtorderedcake​ 

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The lobby of the hotel was as Killian would have expected when he had received a call from Graham’s PA informing him that they were to meet again. Graham had insisted, as part of their agreement, that Killian would be paid in cash upon a meeting after each visit with Emma. Of course, that meant that there was no paper trail of his or Emma’s indiscretions, which suited Killian just fine. It was the only part of the damned contract he actually agreed with.

Just like everything else Graham Humbert had a hand in, this meeting place was as flamboyant and pompous as Killian had foreseen, with silken drapes with golden embroidery hanging on every window. Massive diamond chandeliers hung along the hall, and the sound of water flowing through an indoor fountain was accompanied by the soothing lilt of music that Killian was sure was emanating from some kind of hidden speaker system. The huge, marble columns stood floor to ceiling, lining the edges of both sides of the room, and were so highly polished that Killian could see his reflection clearly in them as he walked past. The floor, equally as polished to within one inch of its life, did little to absorb the sound of his footsteps as he made his way to the bar area, and Killian kept a careful eye out for anyone who might be more than unwelcomed at the meeting.

He had noticed that Graham never travelled alone, always meeting him with two big, burly henchmen at his side. They never sat with them, but were never far enough away that Graham would be in any sort of trouble if he found himself in a sticky situation. In a world where strength was everything, Graham’s actions made Killian chuckle. Humbert so desperately wanted to be an Alpha that he often forgot that, fundamentally, an Alpha would never need protection, or a bodyguard, let alone two of them, and it just spoke to how insecure Graham really was.

Killian’s lips ticked up into a small, tight smile that he hid under a swipe of his tongue, lest one of them be nearby. It wasn’t long before Killian spotted one of them, a big, fat lump of a man he had seen before, distinguished by three neck ripples of fat sitting on top of the collar of his shirt. He was slouched forward over a table nursing a glass of amber liquid, most likely expensive whiskey due to the reputation of the place, with one foot up on the cross beam of the chair and the other resting on the toe of his shoe. He had sushi, Killian could smell that much, four tiny pieces of fish decorated with carrot and cucumber that probably cost as much as his suit.

Off to the sushi scoffing man’s left was the other pitbull Graham kept at hand who Killian liked to refer to as ‘bowtie’. The man was easily spotted in a crowd because he always insisted on wearing a red bowtie with a crisp white shirt with matching red cufflinks that sat next to his oversized hands. He didn’t say much, not even a little grunt, but he was always sitting closest to their boss, and it wasn’t long before Killian spotted Graham Humbert behind him. He was, as usual, pretending to watch the world go by like it owed him something, and Killian felt the bile rise in his throat.

“Jones,” Humbert greeted cordially, pushing himself to his feet and extending his hand. Killian’s eyes flicked towards the man’s palm but he scoffed, his jaw ticking in annoyance. When he lifted his gaze back to meet Graham’s, a sickly sweet smile grew over Humbert’s lips. “Sit down,” he commanded like he was talking to a dog and motioned to the seat opposite him.

Killian refrained from hitting the man by biting his inner cheek and undid the single button on his suit jacket so that he could sit more comfortably. He sank down into the seat, a plush but executive tub chair with a checkered pattern that only just accommodated his bulk, and leaned back to take in the man before him. He hated Humbert even more with each meeting and he couldn’t help but dig his nails into the brass rivets at the front side of the chair’s arm.

“I’ll spare you the formalities, Mr Jones, because I’m a busy man,” Humbert began, sinking down into his own chair.

Killian thought the knee high table between them wasn’t enough space and he despised the feeling he had when Graham reached into the breast pocket of his fine, tailored jacket and fished out a pristine white envelope that clearly bulged with his payment. Humbert slid it across the table, tapping it with a finger.

“I’d love to know what you did with my wife last night.” He raised a brow, almost impressed. “She’s very happy.”

The thought of knotting Emma flashed across his mind, and Killian had to suppress a smirk, shifting in the chair when his groin tingled.

“Not something I’m willing to share this time.” Killian looked Graham dead in the eyes and didn’t look away, emphasising the first word. “However much you pay me.”

Graham took him in, sniggering at Killian’s aggressive tone. “Yes, well, you can spare yourself the Alpha dramatics, Jones. I wasn’t looking to take anymore of your ‘secrets’.” Graham flicked his wrist, his clearly solid gold watch heavy and rattling just a tad against his skin, and then looked at the time. “I don’t have time for your stories today.”

“Something more important to do?” Killian snapped.

“Someone, actually,” Graham sneered, licking his lips afterwards. “And she won’t wait long.”

Killian bit his tongue, regretfully deciding to not upset the man who could control his access to Emma.

“Please,” Graham scoffed, brushing the wrinkles from the front of his shirt as he pushed himself to his feet. Out of the corner of his eye Killian saw both bodyguards stop whatever they were doing and prepare to leave as well. “Spare me the judgemental looks and angry Alpha brooding. A man has needs, I’m sure you can appreciate that.”

Killian leapt to his feet, chest to chest to Graham. “I’m not just a man though, am I?”

Graham didn’t flinch, instead grinning like a proud cheshire cat. “You’re whatever I pay you to be.”

The blood pounded in Killian’s ears, his heart rate well and truly elevated to beyond what his body was comfortable with. Emma was worth this. Emma was worth anything Humbert could throw at him, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t play unfairly either.

“Your wife wants a knot,” Killian blurted, his hot breath fogging Graham’s face through clenched teeth. When Humbert’s smile faded, Killian knew he had touched a sore subject. As much as Graham could pretend, he would never have that one true Alpha attribute he wanted as desperately as his wife. “It seems a shame to leave her so unfulfilled,” Killian shrugged. “I mean, we might as well not even have this arrangement at all if she isn’t getting what she wants so you can get what you want.”

Killian heard Humbert take a deep breath and consider his words. Killian mulled over his expression, watching the puny man’s entire thought process by simply studying his face, Graham’s eyes widening between frowns as his mind went to work. Killian could tell Graham was conflicted. No Alpha for Emma meant no mistress for him, and a small smile tugged at the corner of Killian’s lips.

“I might have an idea so that everyone is happy,” Killian shrugged casually, knowing from the way Graham was sweating that he hadn’t found an option to his own dilemma yet.

“Go on,” Graham encouraged.

“I know of a certain toy that could facilitate what your wife wants,” Killian offered. He stepped back and buttoned his jacket, pushing the button through its hole slowly and deliberately. The smile that graced Killian’s lips was a combination of memories of the day before, when he had actually knotted Emma for real, and the knowledge that Graham was so arrogant, he would believe this whole thing to be his idea. Killian knew Emma would want nothing less than the real thing, his knot thrust up into her as she whimpered in delight, but that didn’t stop Killian playing Graham’s ego against him. “There would be no actual knotting, of course,” he finished, looking up to Graham’s intent expression. “As per your contract.”

“Like a sex toy?” Graham frowned.

“Exactly,” Killian nodded smugly. “A lot of hired Alpha’s wear them during encounters.”

“How much extra would this cost me?” Graham sneered, disgusted but intrigued at the idea all the same.

“Nothing,” Killian shook his head. “I’m sure I can afford one, what with your generous payments.” Killian leaned down and retrieved the money from the table, the envelope crinkling in his hand as he folded it in half and tucked it into the front pocket of his pants. “I just need to know if it's against the agreement we have to use one.” Killian's voice was darker, and he fixed his gaze on Graham once more.

Graham waggled a finger in Killian’s direction, a small chuckle tumbling from his mouth. “You know, Mr Jones, I think I’m beginning to like you.”

Killian shuddered, swallowing hard and looking down to his feet.

“Go buy what you need,” Graham nodded, balling his hands in his pockets. “In fact, why don’t you take Emma with you and then go back to the apartment.” Killian’s head snapped up at his offer and Graham just gave him a sickeningly modest glare like it was still up to him whether Emma saw Killian or not.

“What’s the catch?” Killian narrowed his eyes.

“No catch,” Graham assured him with a bow of his head, the most honest thing Killian had ever seen him do. Maybe the fool was in love with his mistress after all. “Think of it as a bonus for a job well done.”

“And what’s in it for you?” Killian scrutinized Graham, knowing full well that a man of his stature never did anything without something in return.

“Let’s just say, with Emma away, the mice can play.” Graham winked and Killian felt his stomach turn over. Now he was absolutely sure the man before him held no love for his wife at all, willing to defile their marital bed with his mistress, something he knew Emma was against doing with him. Then again, he also knew it wasn’t about respect for her marriage, but finding something new with someone else, somewhere else that held no memories of Humbert repression.

Killian felt sick at the thought of Emma as some sort of transactional incentive, but he wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, even if it was from Graham Humbert. Killian already knew he would do anything for her, Humbert be damned, and he dreamed of taking her away from everything she knew and showing her the life she deserved. Emma’s life wasn’t pleasant, he knew that, but when she was with him, she was herself, the real Emma, and Killian wanted that for her all of the time. Maybe he could show her that today.

“If you insist,” Killian nodded in agreement, only too willing to take Emma out and show her exactly how precious she actually was.

--

Not seeing Emma for a few days had almost killed Killian, especially when he knew that the next time they would see each other, they would be shopping for something he had tricked her husband into agreeing to. The idiot. Truth be told, Killian had in fact needed to pre-order the knotting toy in advance and they would just be popping to the sex store in order to retrieve it, and that freed up their entire afternoon. Because of his girth, the store had needed to have it custom made, something that had made Killian dance inside with glee because he was sure, at some point, Humbert would want to see it. Even if they didn’t need it, because Killian would be damned if he thought Emma wasn’t getting the real thing, he wouldn’t put it past Humbert to need proof.

All of his worries soon dissipated when his cell phone buzzed in the pocket of his pants. Killian had been lingering outside of the store for far longer than he should have been, one or two of the staff occasionally looking out of the black tinted windows to make sure he wasn’t some creep stalking their customers, and just like the last message, Emma was apologizing for being late. His thumb lingered on the cold surface of his cell phone, her words almost identical to the last message and setting panic in his bones.

His mind raced with scenarios that might make Emma late, from good to the very worst, and he cursed himself for even thinking some of them. He knew she would be arriving by a driven car, so graciously provided by her husband that Killian knew was just a front of generosity so Graham was sure she was out of the way whilst he entertained his mistress. Killian’s heart had long since given up breaking for Emma at the thought though, because he knew she would gladly let the mistress move in if it meant she could see him more often.

Finally, after what seemed like forever holding his breath and tapping his locked phone against his other hand, she came into view. He’d told her to dress for lunch but he had also neglected to remember the social divide between them, her dress far superior to his attire. He’d gone casual, just some chinos and a v-neck t-shirt under a summer blazer, but Emma took his breath away in what she was wearing. It wasn’t the plain, almost sheer magnolia off white top half that had him really rigid, but the bottom half, a short, black, thigh high skirt sitting under a matching rippled cumberbund style belt that hugged her waist and let him see the skin of her thigh. He swallowed hard as she approached, her hips sashaying from side to side with every step away from the car, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as her heels carried her closer.

Her hair was perfect, a fishbone braid across the top of her crown and hanging over one of her shoulders. Killian felt himself grow hot and imagined his hand wrapped around it, pulling her onto his cock over and over, just like a few days ago. Wisps of her perfectly toned blonde hair sprang out into the air but it just reminded him of how gorgeous she was as he watched her sleeping post coitus, his hands itching to flatten them and stroke the shape of her skull lovingly. Last but not least she was wearing a smile, one he had never seen in any photographs before, and one that was assuredly reserved for just him.

“Mr Jones,” she said sweetly, her hand reaching out for him after she tucked her matching cream clutch under her arm.

Killian took her hand with a growl, lifting it to his lips and inhaling her skin before looking up to her with a sultry stare and pressing his lips to her knuckles.

“Emma,” he breathed, her name everything. “You look beautiful, as always.”

“Thank you.” Emma smiled sweetly. “You don’t look so bad yourself.” Her eyes roamed his body, taking him in from head to toe and back up again, her tongue darting out to taste her lip as her eyes lingered on the bulge in his chinos.

“When you have quite finished,” Killian told her, tugging her fingers and bringing her back to reality. “One quick stop and we can be off to the restaurant for lunch.” Even saying it out loud made him tingle with warmth, like they were going on a real date, in public, with people seeing them side by side, and Killian couldn’t suppress his Alpha urge to let everyone know who Emma would be with at that moment.

“I’m not going to lie, Killian, I know exactly where we are, and there are no restaurants nearby.” Emma’s lips twisted into a coy smirk and she felt him squeeze her fingers. “What’s going on? Why are we here?”

Killian couldn’t hide his glee any longer and he let their hands dangle in front of them as he stepped forward to greet her with another kiss to her cheek. The softness of her skin made his knees buckle a little, but he managed to regain a sort of semi-composed state for what he had to tell her.

“This was actually Mr Humbert’s idea,” Killian smirked and when Emma’s eyebrows shot up on her forehead, he raised one too. “Or so he thinks.”

Emma looked perplexed. “Why would Graham let you take me to a sex shop?” She wasn’t even annoyed at the mention of her husband, because the idea of being here, with Killian, was far outweighing any hatred she had for the man who thought he supposedly owned her.

“That’s a story for another time,” Killian told her cryptically. He stepped back, interlocking their fingers and tugged her after him, encouraging her to follow. He bit his bottom lip, looking her up and down between steps, sighing audibly in appreciation of the way she moved after him. “I’m not sure this outfit is appropriate for lunch,” Killian teased, shaking his head. “How am I supposed to keep my eyes on you and one eye on every other man in the place?”

“And why would you need to do that?” Emma feigned modesty and Killian noticed a little more sway in her hips as she walked, drawing, tempting him to a fate he knew would have him killed one day.

Once they were through the doors, and hidden from any prying eyes by the darkness of tinted windows, Killian pulled his hand from hers and let it fall to her hip, his fingers hungrily grabbing at the material of her skirt and bunching it up until it was raised up towards her waist a little more. He stepped into her and Emma gasped when her bare shoulders hit the cold of the window and his knee between her legs stopped her from losing her balance and tumbling to the ground.

“You know why,” Killian growled sultrily, his nose pressed against hers and their lips a hair's breadth apart. She smelled of perfume, floral with undertones of her natural scent that had Killian rolling his eyes in his head and his jaw clenching tighter than he thought possible. It seemed a few days had been too long without her near him, and his hands skimmed the shape of her arse hungrily.

“How can you be so sure other men find me as desirable as you do?” Emma’s words were strangled in her throat that had gone bone dry from the way Killian’s thigh was rubbing against her clit through her panties.

Killian chuckled darkly, his tongue licking over her lips as he moistened his own in response to her fingers gripping his bicep through the material of his blazer. “Emma, Emma, Emma,” Killian taunted playfully with a shake of his head. “When are you going to realise how precious you are?”

Emma’s hand snaked up behind his head and held it in place as she moved hers to the side, the softness of her lips brushing against the shell of his ear as she whispered, “When are you going to show me?” Her fingers clawed over the back of his neck, raking through the hair there ever so gently that it had all of Killian’s nerve endings firing at once. “Again,” she added, her voice lowered and full of fire as she slipped out from underneath him and made her way into the main part of the shop.

Killian grunted in frustration, spinning his entire body off the window pane and following after her like a man on an invisible tether. She was something, he had to admit that, especially when, by watching the shape of her behind in her too short skirt, he had failed to realise that she was heading towards the lingerie section. He looked up just in time to see her holding the barest slip of material up to her body before looking back at him through her lashes and quirking a brow.

“How do you think this would look on me?” She asked innocently, tucking the material under her breasts and accenting them as she pushed them up.

“Not as good as it would look on the floor,” Killian whispered as he reached her and inspected the garment. It was made of lace as red as blood, with two cut outs on either side that would definitely show the contrast of her milky skin down to her hips where the built in lace underwear sat. The bra part was padded, hiding away her best parts behind another layer of matching lace and Killian made a mental note to make sure that never happened. His thoughts were soon interrupted when he noticed, with a glint in her eye, Emma was indicating to the slit like opening on the panties with a wiggling finger and a coy smirk.

“You sure that’s where you want it to be?” Emma teased, biting her tongue and feeling the material of the bra as if she were Killian kneading her breasts.

Killian whimpered and toyed with the little red bows that stuck to each hip of the garment, the material pure silk between his fingers. All he could do was shake his head, an Alpha pathetically reduced to just actions by a woman, and he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

“I’ll be right back,” he said quietly, his voice hoarse. He peeled the lingerie from her grip and Emma almost squealed with glee, her face erupting into an excited smile that made the skin behind his ears burn hot with pleasure. “I need to pay for this and retrieve something, then we shall go to lunch.” He took a step back, the air just two feet from Emma much easier to breathe in, but he immediately missed the heavy weight pressing down on his lungs.

“Perfect,” Emma beamed at him. She had that glint in her eye again and Killian’s jaw nearly hit the floor when she lifted her hand to her face and gave the tip of her thumb a salacious lick, the mystery behind the green of her eyes darkened by her lust once more. “I’m starving.”

--

Killian couldn’t help the way he was smiling, despite Emma telling him more than once to stop. They sat opposite each other in an almost rooftop restaurant and Killian had made sure they were seated next to the window so that they could both enjoy the view, not that he had seen much more than Emma right in front of him. Emma as she was. Emma in the new lingerie he had just bought her. Emma like she had been when she took his knot. God only knew how his brain managed to fathom much else at this point.

They had, somehow, managed to order some food, even if they were both anxious for what was to come afterward. Humbert had pretty much given him the green light to take Emma back to her apartment, so Killian wasn’t going to miss out on an opportunity when it presented itself. When he thought about it, finding loopholes in Humbert’s contract really was about as much fun as he had imagined, especially when so much was at stake.

“Thank you,” Emma said softly, shaking him out of his daydream by placing her hand over his. Killian looked down to where Emma’s fingers were tangling with his, the edge of their palms resting against the pristinely white table cloth, and gave her a sideways cock of his head.

“For what, love?” he asked sweetly, rubbing her thumb with his.

“For this,” Emma said with a nod, motioning around the slowly filling restaurant with a wave of her free hand. “For showing me that I’m not just arm candy for a businessman.”

Killian sucked in a breath and released a laugh at the same time. “Emma, you are so much more than that. What will it take for you to realise that?”

Emma blushed and diverted her eyes back down to focus on the hypnotic way Killian’s thumb was still etching the feel of his skin onto hers. Her smile faded and Killian was sure he saw a little bit of a tear in her eye, frowning and giving her hand a gentle tug until she looked back at him.

“Look,” he began, licking his lips. “I know this isn’t ideal, what we’re doing, but for what it’s worth, I’m having the time of my life.” Killian smiled at her warmly and she mirrored the shape of his lips with her own. “What happens when your husband is sick of his mistress is my only uncertainty.”

“You think he let this happen because he has a mistress?” Emma scoffed a laugh, looking away from him sadly. “Please, Killian, there have been other women and you’ve met the man. He’d do anything to avoid a divorce.” The sadness that laced her words pained him right to his soul and Killian felt his fingers tighten around hers when she turned her head to stare blankly out of the window. “The only reason you and I ever met is because he was trying to keep me quiet and retain his Humbert bravado. He can take this all away from me as quickly as it began.”

“I’d like to see him try,” Killian said defiantly.

“He’s done it before,” Emma almost sobbed, her voice weak and small in the back of her throat at the memory of how many times Graham had promised her so much only to rip it all away to keep her in line. She never wanted to imagine how it would feel to have Graham take Killian away from her now that she had known him.

“Aye, maybe, but you’ve never had me fighting for you before, have you, darling?”

At his words, Emma looked back to him and welcomed the way his confidence in her was written all over his face, from the curve of his lips as he smiled to the sparkle in the blue of his eyes. Emma had never known any Alpha other than the Humbert men, and certainly hadn’t known one to give the likes of her the time of day. But Killian was different, affectionate and passionate, and she knew that no matter what, she would be making the most of him tonight.

“You are a man of many firsts, Mr Jones,” Emma smirked. She pulled her hand from his and moved to lean forward, her head resting on her hand as the point of her elbow sat precariously on the edge of the table. She trailed one of her fingers over her lips, giving them a little tap.

“I’m also wonderfully committed to seconds,” Killian grinned. “And thirds, and fourths.” He winked, letting the corner of his lips pull up into a sideways smirk, one eyebrow jumping up higher on his brow.

“And is that what you want?” Emma teased, rolling her shoulders back so that Killian had no choice but to divert his eyes down to the sway of her breasts underneath the sheer, cream fabric of her dress. “To knot me again?” Emma blinked, looking up at him through her lashes. “And again?”

Killian didn’t mean to laugh but he hoped it helped that the tips of his ears turned a rather attractive rosy colour as he pawed at the patch of skin behind them, his tongue darting out at the memory of her taste on his lips.

“Like I need to breathe, love,” Killian said finally, rolling his bottom lip under his teeth and letting an appreciative hum escape his mouth at the memory of the feeling of her body around his knot. “I’ll beg if I have to,” he admitted with a nod.

“Would you want it now?” Emma’s eyes lit up with glee and she couldn’t hide the excited grin on her face. “With all these people around?”

“Aye,” Killian said, his words even and his voice a little huskier than it was before. He leaned forward and Emma could have sworn he was staring directly into her soul. “I’d fuck you over this table until you begged me to knot you because you couldn’t take not having it any longer.”

His words, despite what she had asked for, made Emma’s entire body prickle with heat. Every muscle was remembering the feel of his hands on her skin, the feel of his cock inside of her and recalling the way it felt to have such a rock hard, welcome intrusion like his knot. She pressed her thighs together at the thought, her core clenching with need and a little bit of hot, wet, discharge leaking out of her. She wasn’t sure if Killian could smell her, but his eyes definitely darkened around the edge of his hues and he drew his fingers into a clenched fist as he stared her down.

“I’m sorry,” Emma blushed, swallowing hard. “Would you excuse me? I just need to use the ladies room before our food arrives.”

Killian shook his head slightly, and pushed himself to his feet. It was probably the most gentlemanly thing Emma had ever seen and had been sure, when Graham failed to do it, it was the stuff of myths and legends that women only read about in books. The heat across her cheeks was more vibrant now, and there was no way Killian didn’t know what his words had done to her, or why she was heading to the bathroom at all.

“Of course,” he said cordially but grabbed her arm as she moved past him, leaning in and almost licking the shell of her ear with his words. “Hurry back,” he whispered, his words dripping into her ear like a hot wax that sent a shiver down her spine, before he stepped away and left her wanting even more than before.

Emma barely made it to the bathroom, her legs shaking and her skin on fire with a burning itch that only Killian could sate. She ran through the door, politely apologising to a woman she bumped into on the way, and flattened herself against the cool tiled wall. She let out a breath, long and uneven, her lips quivering slightly as she gulped down air, trying to quell her arousal. Emma had never felt so alive, her whole body aching as she pinned her weight against the wall, fingers clawing at the grout and her knees threatening to buckle at any second.

“Fuck,” she panted, pinching her eyes closed. How did Killian have the ability to make her feel this way with just his words and a sideways sultry glance? Emma was sure it was black magic. Or witchcraft. Or more simply, it was her pure, unadulterated need, two compatible people fitting together like puzzle pieces, her body crying out for him every time they met. Whatever it was, she was pretty sure that she would never make it back to her apartment without some sort of cooling relief for the sizzling heat that was eating her up from the inside out.

Emma bolted for the nearest stall, slamming the door closed behind her and sliding the lock into place. Not even the toilet seat lid offered her relief as she sat down on the cold plastic, and she slumped back against the cistern with a grumble. She pinched her eyes closed but all she could see was Killian, his eyes darkened to a lustful grey and his lips curved into that toying smirk he always did before he fully ravaged her. She loved it, and needed it - him - but all she had right now was her hand and her imagination, so with a hurried pant, Emma bunched up the material of her skirt, opened her legs and slipped her hand between her thighs.

The material of her underwear was already wet, the damp patch just below her clit cool on her skin. Her fingers toyed over it, sliding back and forth, teasing her body with the idea that she might slip lower. The friction was minimal but just enough, her nipples hardening in her bra and the material rubbing against them, causing her even more frustration. She let out a groan that was a little too loud, the sound of her voice reverberating off the bathroom walls.

She only stopped for a second to make sure no one had heard her, instantly missing the way her hand felt on the outside of her panties. She skimmed her fingers over the fabric again, sighing when she pushed through her folds and found her clit, circling the nub and feeling her entire body relax as she sucked in a breath through her teeth. Even just thinking about Killian had her body reacting like this, essence practically dripping from her core as she strummed out a beat over her clit.

She had to make it quick or Killian would grow suspicious, and Emma wouldn't put it past him to come looking for her. What if he did? Suddenly it didn't seem like such a bad idea to take her time, but Emma wasn't that patient, parting her legs even wider and settling the material of her underwear over herself where it contoured the shape of her clit and, with every flick, had white light erupting behind her eyelids.

Emma canted her hips to meet the rub of her hand, her body shaking as her clit grew harder and more sensitive with every sweep. Her thighs quivered and she needed to place her free hand on the stall wall for balance, her inevitable orgasm creeping up on her and leaving her whimpering Killian's name. The room was spinning, even behind her eyelids, and the warmth of the heated bathroom was beginning to affect her, a sheen of sweat condensing across her skin.

She’d never done this before, masturbated in a public place, and it was the most exciting thing she had ever done. Her entire body tingled, her hand shaking, her brain telling her to stop the assault on her clit that was pulsing and throbbing, but her body crying out for more. Her breathing was uneven and the skin under her braid tightened against her head, pulling all of her hair and reminding her of how Killian had grabbed it a few days ago. It was enough, the memory of Killian and what he could do to her making her legs and back stiffen as she came, her hand furiously rubbing at her clit through the material of her underwear and extending her pleasure through painfully gritted teeth.

It wasn’t enough, Emma could tell that the second her orgasm rippled away as quickly as it had arrived, but it was enough to keep her sated for now. Or so she hoped. Now her only problem was her soaking wet panties. Emma looked down between her legs, holding the ruffles of her black skirt aside as she inspected the dark grey patch that had appeared there, her clit still pulsing with aftershocks as she tugged the material from her skin. There was no way Killian wouldn’t know about this, because even she could smell herself in the confines of the cubicle.

He had done this to her. It was still beyond her exactly how, but Killian had this effect on her like nothing she had ever experienced before. It was like her body was his obedient puppy, eager to please him, willing to do anything for a little attention and it had never felt so right to let it. Emma’s lips turned up into a wry grin as she stood back on wobbly legs, shimmied her wet panties to the floor and then picked them up, straightening the creases in her skirt whilst balling the damp material in her fist. Horny didn’t even begin to describe how she felt, the thrill of masterbating in the bathroom of a restaurant combined with the knowledge Killian was hers all afternoon still coursing through every fibre of her being.

They had to skip lunch and Emma knew exactly how to do that.

When she reappeared, Killian was absentmindedly staring out of the window across the expanse of the city, but the slight rise of his elfen ear gave away his smile. He didn’t turn around when she approached, but he knew she was there, heels gently tapping the polished floor, their echoes eaten up by the sounds of the other diners. His hand rested on the tablecloth, fingers stretched outwards as if covering hers that had left the spot a few minutes ago.

“Sorry about that,” Emma chirped as she neared him. She reached the table, her hip brushing his shoulder as she passed, and in one swift motion that even left her surprised by her own audacity, Emma dropped her sodden lace panties to the table right next to his hand. “I needed to take care of something.”

Killian’s head snapped towards the garment beside his hand, his fingers lifting off the tablecloth that had suddenly become like hot embers under the tips. Similarly, his ears were burning with the tell tale tint of a blush that was soon replaced with the ferocity of his inner animal as he plucked the lace from the table and was immediately hit with her scent. It was the perfect combination of the sweetness of peaches and the exoticness of star anise, and he would gladly risk the toxicity of the latter if it meant he could feast on her for hours.

“You couldn’t wait until after lunch?” Killian smirked, tucking the panties under the table and out of sight of the other diners. He scrunched the material in his hand and rather than tuck it into his pocket, he unzipped his fly and tucked it into the crotch of his chinos and through the peephole of his boxers. Even the mere feeling of her clearly self-fuck soaked underwear against his cock had him hard in seconds and he had no doubt she knew exactly what she was doing when she had dropped them at his proverbial feet.

“I’m not hungry,” Emma lied coyly, leaning forward in her seat until her bare clit met the cold, harsh surface of her chair and her eyes fluttered closed.

“Oh, you’re hungry, love,” Killian teased, opening his legs a little wider so that his length wasn’t so painfully restricted in his pants. “Just not for what’s on the menu in this place.” He quirked his brow at her and Emma smirked back at him, rolling her bottom lip under her teeth and letting out a groan as she rocked forward again.

“And you are?” Emma teased back, twirling the tail of her braid around her hand and giving it a little tug, mimicking the way his primal urges had turned her on so much a few days before.

She couldn’t help the way he was playing her like a finely tuned piano, despite being in a public place, as if something was calling to her, telling her to jump and trust that Killian would catch her. Without a second thought she knew she would. She would leap from whatever height if it meant falling into his arms, especially now, and if the way he was looking at her like a ravenous animal was anything to go by, she would gladly let him devour her too.

“Pay,” Emma demanded quickly, hurrying to grab her clutch beside her.

“W-What?” Killian stammered, shocked by her sudden urgency to leave.

Emma pushed herself to her feet and Killian stumbled to follow her, the hard-on in his pants restricting his ability to stand upright. He stepped out from behind the table and she flattened herself to his body, not a sliver of light able to pass between them. She groaned in her throat, the feel of his hardness against her setting off another flow of slickness to escape her core, only this time there was no fabric to stop it and it began its descent down her inner thigh. Emma’s hand snaked up behind Killian’s head and she clutched the hair there in frustration, her only outlet in a room full of people.

“Pay now,” she ordered again, her breath hot against his neck where she couldn’t help but taste his skin there with a lap of her tongue. “And I’ll suck you off in the car.”

--

They had only just made it out of the car park when Emma had dove across the gap between them and was fumbling with the zipper of Killian’s chinos. He hissed as she snaked her hand into the opening, deft fingers stroking over the outside of his boxer shorts and hardening him even more than the anticipation was. Killian's knuckles were white from how hard he gripped the wheel and Emma tore into his underwear like a thing possessed once she realised how hard her prize was.

Emma had never blown an Alpha before and once his cock sprang out into the artificially heated air in the car, her eyes went wide with glee. Alphas certainly put most men to shame, and she licked her lips at the sight of him standing proudly for her attention before grasping him as firmly as she could close to the base of his cock and shivering from the filthy sound he made in response.

“Eyes on the road, Jones,” Emma said huskily, running her tongue over the point of her canine. She felt like a wolf, hungry for the meat Killian was dangling in front of her, the blood pounding in her ears as she used her other hand to grip the girth of him just under his tip.

Killian felt his hips shift forward in his seat, an involuntary spasm, the only reaction his body knew to her touch. He wanted her to stroke him, needed her to massage his length. What she had promised back at the restaurant was so close his balls ached. Her breath ghosted over his cock, the tip of her tongue flicking out to taste him as she held him, hot and hard and perpetually suspended in the promise of what was to come. He had to blink thrice as hard to focus his eyes on the road knowing that once her mouth encased his cock, it would be almost impossible to drive in a straight line.

“Emma, maybe we should wait until-,” Killian began, his heart hammering in his chest and the sound of his blood pounding in his ears.

“Shut up,” Emma snapped and Killian tore his eyes off the road to look at her beside him.

She was on her knees, crouched below the height of the window and hunched between the seats, her elbows resting on the only part of the seat visible beside his thigh. It twitched as his muscles contracted, his entire body as stiff as his cock was in Emma’s hands, her hands burning into his skin far hotter than his own body temperature. Emma was wet, he could smell her in the confined space of the car and it made him heady, his palms a little sweaty against the smooth surface of the wheel.

Killian had no idea what had gotten into Emma but he was not about to complain. Very few people had the bravery to tell an Alpha to shut up, and under normal circumstances the hormones raging through Killian’s body would have had him seeing red in no time, but the tone in Emma’s voice, insistent and desperate, had him hardening in her grip. She was ravenous and did something to him that he couldn’t explain. His body cried out for her, especially now he knew what it felt like to knot her, and one of his hands slipped off the wheel and smoothed over her back in gentle encouragement. Very little time passed between Killian touching her and Emma finally wrapping her lips around his length and all he could do was gasp in final, hot, wet relief and force his eyes to stay open whilst he drove through a foggy, sex hazed vision.

“Oh,” Killian gasped on an inward breath, his knuckles turning white with how hard he was gripping the wheel. “Bloody, Jesus, fuck,” he grunted when he felt Emma smirk against his length, her tongue lavishing over a particularly prominent vein that had swollen in her mouth as her hands went to work on the base of his shaft. With a hum, Emma let her hand drift into the opening of his fly, aching to have more of him in her grasp, her fingertips barely touching the bulb of his knot that was wrapped up in her come soaked panties.

Emma lifted her head, releasing him with a pop and hungrily licking her lips as she salivated over the taste of him in her mouth. Her hands went to work where her mouth had been, shifting up and down his cock and making Killian growl in frustration.

“So that’s where you put them,” Emma grinned triumphantly.

She hadn’t expected to find her underwear in his pants but it gave her a huge sense of gratification to find them there. She had never felt so powerful, so insanely and irrevocably turned on before. Her life had given her few chances to be the aggressor during sex, but Emma was a woman who knew what she wanted, if nothing else. Killian Jones was what she wanted, and she didn’t even wait for his reply before sealing her lips around his cock and stealing his breath once more.

Emma’s head bobbed up and down, spit dribbling out of her mouth and over her knuckles as she went down and her tongue slurping over his skin as she eased back up. Killian tried as hard as he could to focus on the road ahead of him, but thankfully the traffic was minimal, encouraging him to speed and run at least two red lights on their way to Emma’s apartment where he skidded to a stop in her parking spot. He had an overwhelming need to come, to fuck Emma’s mouth until his knot popped out of his body and he’d encourage her to extend his pleasure by sucking him some more. The mere thought had his fingertips digging into the curve of her behind, the only intimate part of her he could reach from his position.

But reality held him back. There was no way he wouldn’t draw attention by getting out of a car in broad daylight with an erection so massive, and as if Emma could read his mind, she doubled her efforts. Her movements sped up and Killian could feel his tip bumping the back of her throat, the muscles there contracting around him and pulling him in even deeper. At one point, Emma gagged a little and Killian wasn’t sure how much longer he would last under her assault. She hummed in appreciation, a soft whimper of pleasure slipping from her mouth between breaths as her fingers toyed with the smooth skin of Killian’s balls and caused another involuntary buck of his hips.

“You’re so close,” she purred, letting him slip from her mouth and not giving him a second before licking him from a straining knot bulb to tip. “Let go, Killian. Let me take care of you.”

“Oh, fuck, Emma,” he whimpered, legs shaking as he felt the unmistakeable thrum of his climax. “Suck it,” he growled and encouraged her to take him in her mouth once more with a gentle touch to the back of her head. His fingers toyed with her braid and his inner animal couldn’t be contained anymore. “I’m going to come so hard for you. Fill up the back of your throat like you need.”

An audible whine vibrated from Emma’s throat, a plea for what only Killian could give her. She arched her back, desperate for his touch where she needed him the most, her body language so incredibly wanton that Killian had no hope in holding off his orgasm. What he hadn’t expected was her skill, the way she swallowed him down like she had been made specifically for him, her throat relaxing around him as she crammed his entire cock into her mouth. Her tongue laved around his knot bulb, a soft wetness that, before he had time to stop it, had his knot popping from his body and his euphoria washing over him.

The world began to spin and Killian’s leg spasmed, his foot pushing so hard against the floor that he thought he might punch a hole right through the bottom of his car. He was coming, and he was coming harder than he had ever come from oral before. An Alpha’s place was to make his partner happy and so he had rarely been on the receiving end of a blow job, and they had never felt as good as the one Emma was giving him. It left him shaking and he held her face to his crotch, one hand around her jaw and her braid twisted around the other. When Emma gagged on his come, he tried to free her airway by pulling out, but Emma wouldn’t let him go, greedily swallowing every last drop of his load with a satisfying gulp.

“Wow,” Killian gasped, scrubbing his hands over his face in disbelief of his bodily reaction to Emma’s talents. “I...you...wow,” he giggled, ignoring the discomfort of his exposed knot and the hotness in his groin.

“You popped your knot,” Emma smirked gleefully, stroking her fingers over his still hard length and enjoying the way he twitched from her touch.

“I swear I didn’t mean to,” Killian laughed. “You were just...” he began but Emma’s proud grin stole his thought. “Just wow.”

“You need to work on your compliments,” Emma nodded with a raised eyebrow.

“Aye, love,” he agreed with a chuckle. “I have plenty of time to think that over whilst I wait for my knot to recede.” He blushed a little and Emma watched as he adorably scratched the patch of skin behind his ear.

“I’m sorry,” Emma offered sympathetically. She took his hand in hers, giving his fingers a little squeeze to emphasize her apology.

“Don’t be, love,” Killian assured her, interlocking their fingers. “It’s only uncomfortable for an hour or so,” he teased, lifting their hands and pressing a kiss to the back of her knuckles.

“Plenty of time then,” Emma smirked playfully.

“For what, love?” Killian asked her with a narrowed stare.

She leaned in close, gripping his hand tighter and holding it to her bosom. “For us to talk about later,” she whispered in his ear, her words making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. “When we see just how good that outfit looks on the bedroom floor.”

[dvp95]

can’t breathe when you touch my sleeve - chapter 5

pairing: dan howell/phil lester

rating: e (eventually)

warnings: none

tags: alternate universe, slow burn, fluff & humour, tiny bit of inner turmoil wrt sexuality but trust me it’s not that deep, eventual smut, idiots in love

word count: 5,429 for this chapter (21,158 total)

summary: Dan keeps making a fool of himself in interviews, to the point where it’s basically a meme. Now he’s got to sit down for the better part of an hour and sell his show to the YouTuber he’d had a massive crush on when he was a teenager.

read from the beginning on ao3 or on tumblr!

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

Dan has made a lot of very bad decisions with alcohol in his system. Some of them he can laugh about now, like the time he sprained his ankle trying to sing Toxic whilst stood on a table and ended up toppling onto the floor of an Atlanta bar when he'd tried to shimmy. He hasn't been allowed back there since.

"To be fair," Patrick says when Dan voices this memory fondly, "you would have done that sober."

"You know, I probably would," says Dan. He finishes his glass of wine and eyes the hotel room desk thoughtfully. "D'you think -"

"No," says Patrick.

"Oh, go on, let him," Jaime laughs. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"I'm not even dignifying that with an answer."

They don't often drink together, because usually they're working, and nothing kills a buzz faster than a 4am wakeup call to get to hair and makeup on time. Plus, Dan doesn't drink as much as he used to. He's nearing thirty, closeted, and clinically depressed, he doesn't need to add alcohol to that fun mix.

But it's Thursday night, they've finished their last interview in London until late next week, and Jaime had pulled a couple of bottles out of her room to celebrate 'nobody falling off a stage yet this year'. So, they're drinking.

They've ended up in Dan's room because he remembered to bring his Switch and he doesn't have dirty pants lying around. Patrick is sprawled across the foot of Dan's bed and Jaime, after a long process of attempting to get comfortable on the armchair, has slid to the floor with Dan. The wine is good and strong and Dan might be a little buzzed.

Dan's phone buzzes with a text from Phil. He can't stop the easy smile from breaking across his face, but Patrick and Jaime are too busy bickering about whether or not Dan breaking his neck would be worth a repeat performance to notice.

Still on for tomorrow? :)

ya!, Dan sends before he can regret showing enthusiasm.

He doesn't need to worry too much, because Phil responds with a Yay!! and that's objectively less cool.

Some of the bad decisions Dan has made when he's drunk are ones that he can't actually laugh about, either because they're horrifically embarrassing - like climbing into bed with his friend's parents - or because they hurt too much to be funny - like ending up with a black eye after he mouthed off to a skinhead at Reading Festival - or because they're, well. The bad decision he's about to make again.

you should come hang out at the hotel, Dan texts Phil, because tipsy Dan is even hornier than regular Dan.

You want me to come over?

Phil is walking that line again, waiting for Dan to be upfront so he doesn't have to be.

The thing is, Dan could say yes, kick his costars out of his room, and make another bad decision in a long line of them, but. He really likes Phil. This isn't the same thing as hitting up a crew member on the downlow.

He still wants to see Phil, though. So he says, yeah me n patrick n jaime are drinking and you should join usssss, makes it clear this isn't some kind of booty call.

Okay! I'd love to meet your friends. What hotel are you at?

--

Another glass and a half of wine and four rounds of Mario Kart later, Dan is vaguely surprised by a knock at his room's door.

"We aren't being that loud, are we?" Jaime asks, her drawl almost incomprehensible now that she's two sheets to the wind. Patrick shrugs, and then Dan remembers.

"Oh!" he says, wobbling to his feet. "I asked Phil to come hang out with us."

"Who?"

"Dog man!" Jaime exclaims. Dan is laughing as he opens the door, and Jaime repeats herself even louder. "Dog man! Hello!"

"Hi," says Phil, slow and amused.

He looks good. Dan is wondering if he ever doesn't, honestly, but Phil had clearly put some effort in tonight. He's wearing a bright, patterned button-down that's open at the throat, and he's close enough that Dan can smell his cologne.

"You're dog man," Dan tells him unnecessarily. "Come in, we've got wine."

"Oh, I wasn't sure what we were drinking." Phil's body brushes against Dan's in the narrow entryway as he accepts Dan's invitation. Dan cannot, for the life of him, tell if it is intentional or not. "I brought vodka. It's birthday cake flavoured? I have no idea if it's any good, it just looked fun."

"Nice," says Patrick. His head and shoulders are in danger of falling off the foot of Dan's bed as he plays Mario Kart upside down.

"This is Jaime and Patrick," says Dan. Remembering how quickly Phil had decided to call him by a nickname, he adds, "Just Patrick, don't call him Pat or he'll kick you."

"Noted," says Phil. He puts the bottle down on the desk and smiles. "Nice to meet you both."

"Nice to meet you," Jaime echoes in a terrible English accent. It doesn't even come in the same realm as Phil's dialect. She giggles to herself and pats the piece of carpet beside her. "Phil, right? Come sit with me! Show me pictures of your dog!"

Phil laughs and does as he's told, folding his long limbs up to lean against the dresser with Jaime.

While Phil gets his gallery open and Patrick races against the computer, Dan decides to be a good host and pour them all new drinks. He doesn't know if the flavoured vodka will mix well with his Coke at all, but. That's what he's got, so that's what his friends are getting. He takes little sips to test as he mixes, making sure it's alcoholic enough and isn't too awful.

He looks over at the sound of Jaime's delighted laughter and feels his lips curve upwards. Jaime's deep skin, dark clothes, and bubblegum pink hair that might or might not be a wig are all such a contrast to Phil that seeing them together is almost comical, but they look sweet.

Dan can't help but snap a picture, then another of Patrick, who is still upside down, then a final shot of his concoctions. He adds all three to his Instagram story and tags his friends in them, hoping sober Dan won't hate him too much for it.

"Here you go," Dan says once he's done fucking around on his phone. He holds out two disposable hotel cups to Phil and Jaime, who both beam up at him.

"Thanks," says Jaime.

The smile on Phil's face is enough to make Dan confident that this was a good idea. "Thanks, Dan."

Patrick and Jaime make dramatic 'oooh' noises, like kids when someone gets called to the headteacher's office. Phil looks between them with a bemused sort of expression, and Dan is just trying to keep his blush to a minimum as he sips his drink.

"You gonna let that slide, Daniel?" Patrick asks, emphasising Dan's full name with a bad English accent of his own. Dan imagines that's how Patrick thinks he sounds every time he corrects anyone at work who calls him Dan.

"Yeah," Dan mumbles into his cup. "S'fine."

With a giggle, Jaime leans closer to Phil and stage-whispers, "He doesn't let anyone call him that."

"I let some people," Dan defends himself, although it's true that he hasn't introduced himself as Dan since uni. He's certainly never been okay with people he works with deciding to call him Dan, because it's a forced familiarity he doesn't like.

"Really?" Phil asks. He's got this wary look on his face, like he's not sure if he's the butt of the joke here or not. "I didn't know that. Does it bother you?"

"Not when you say it," Dan says, a little too quickly and too honestly.

Jaime giggles, but Dan is too busy staring at his drink and wondering if it's technically deep enough to drown in to look at her. He doesn't want to look at Phil, either, doesn't want to see whatever's happening behind those big eyes.

"I mean, it makes sense," Jaime says, still in that carrying whisper. "Seeing as Daniel thinks you're cute and all."

"Jaime!" Dan practically gasps. He loses the fight to his blush, feeling his face burn with it.

He turns a glare on her that probably isn't very effective with his lobster cheeks, and she blinks at him for a moment before she grins.

"Oh, sorry," she says. "Was that a secret?"

Patrick laughs like it's a joke, and Jaime joins him, before they start chatting about the cake vodka like Dan isn't standing in the middle of his hotel room, terrified.

It's not like Dan has exactly been subtle - he's sure that Phil knows how he feels. But that's not something he wants to have brought up in the way straight people joke about being attracted to each other, because it's not a joke.

Or... maybe they know that. Maybe his coworkers have caught on to something Dan has tried so hard to keep at the very corners of his mind. Maybe they aren't making the 'haha imagine if you actually thought a guy was cute' joke, but are rather just teasing him for his crush the same way he does to them when they mention a barista is cute or something.

He's not really sure which is worse, to be honest. Does he want them to be assuming he's straight or assuming he's not? He doesn't even know.

What does he want Phil to think?

At the thought, Dan's eyes drift to Phil. Naturally, like they belong there, like he shouldn't be looking anywhere else. His breath hitches in his chest when he sees that Phil was already looking back at him.

There's a moment of sheepishness, where they have to acknowledge that they've been caught staring at each other, but then... Phil smiles.

It's a smile Dan has seen before, on the park bench and on his FaceTime screen and in Phil's living room, and Dan thinks he could look at it forever.

Dan is the first one to break their eye contact, grinning into his hand like Phil won't notice.

"Budge up," Dan tells Patrick, louder than necessary. "I think we should all race. Loser has to take a shot."

"Oh no," Phil says. It occurs to Dan that Phil is still more or less sober, since he hasn't been drinking all evening like they've been. He wonders what Phil is like when he's drunk. "Do you have enough controllers?"

"Yeah, let me just," says Dan.

His friends all get comfortable on the king bed while Dan searches his luggage for his extra joy-cons. He keeps the red and blue ones with him when he travels just in case, but he generally only uses the black ones. They're much more his aesthetic.

Patrick is still lounging like a lord being hand-fed grapes, but Phil and Jaime have both settled against the headboard like normal human beings. There's enough space between them for Dan to sit, and he feels a warmth spread through him that has nothing to do with alcohol or embarrassment. He's just happy that his friends left room for him, are thinking about him.

It's actually kind of pathetic that these three people are the best friends Dan has. After all, two of them are being paid to be friendly with him and he only just met Phil.

Dan gives himself a little shake to physically get rid of the self-deprecating thoughts, because that's never a good road to go down when he's drinking. He should just enjoy having a good time with people he likes.

And he does. He sits close enough to Phil that their shoulders brush and pokes at Patrick with his foot to distract him and lets Jaime's trill of a laugh loosen the knot in his chest until he forgets it's there. He's having fun, honestly, in a way he hasn't let himself in a long time.

Phil loses the first two games and takes the punishment shots with grace, but then he ups the ante.

"Next one to lose has to finish it in one," he declares. There's a little less than three shot's worth in the bottle, and Dan exchanges amused looks with Jaime and Patrick over the idea of Phil chugging that.

Turns out, Phil is either extremely lucky or a fucking grifter. He edges Dan out of first place in the last few seconds of the race and cheers loud enough that Dan is sure they're going to get complaints from neighbouring rooms. Patrick, who ended up in seventh thanks to a well-timed red shell, insists that Phil must have cheated somehow. Still, he takes the vodka from a gloating Phil and finishes it off to the dulcet tones of the three of them chanting, "Chug! Chug!"

Patrick, understandably, excuses himself to go to sleep not long after the alcohol hits his system. He leaves his sandals on Dan's floor and heads down the hall barefoot.

"Why am I responsible for these now?" Dan asks the room at large, idly clearing up the mess they'd left. He doesn't want to wake up in the morning with a cake-flavoured hangover and a bunch of tiny plastic cups laying about.

"You're the team mom, Dan," Jaime coos, poking at his cheek. She's small enough that she has to lean up on her tiptoes to do so.

"Daniel," Dan corrects her automatically.

With a triumphant sort of look over her shoulder, Jaime pats Dan's face with her tiny palm. Dan feels himself blushing again now that he realises what she's teasing him for.

"You're so cute," she says, pinching at his soft cheek before she settles back down on flat feet with a grin. "I'm gonna head out, too. It was really nice to meet you, Phil! You should come back next week! And bring your dog!"

"I'll see what I can do," says Phil. His voice has gone deeper than usual with the alcohol, and he's propped up on his elbows with his long legs spread out over Dan's bed. He smirks, but if that's at Jaime's request or at the way Dan's mouth has obviously gone dry, Dan can't tell.

He looks at Jaime to see if she's still laughing at him, but Jaime is too busy raking her own eyes down Phil's body. She notices Dan staring and winks at him.

"See you tomorrow," she says, tone laden with implications that Dan isn't sober enough to parse.

She takes Patrick's sandals with her as a joke, tells them to let him think he lost them, and Dan's throat feels thick with some kind of emotion when the door clicks behind her and he's alone with Phil.

"You wanna keep playing?"

Phil is either completely oblivious to the way Dan is aching for him, or he knows and is waiting for Dan to make the first move.

Well, Dan is at least cognizant enough to remember all the reasons why making that move would be a terrible idea. He really ought to tell Phil he's tired and that he should probably head home to Thor, but. He likes the way he feels when he's with Phil. And until one of them decides to voice the question of whatever's happening here, he'll just enjoy it.

"Yeah, if you're ready to get your ass kicked," says Dan. He smirks right back at Phil and sits a respectable distance away on the other side of the bed.

"Big words for a man who got second place last round," says Phil, voice lilting on some of his vowels.

"I don't know how you did that," Dan says, pointing a slightly wobbly finger in Phil's face. Phil acts like he's going to bite at it, and Dan pulls back reflexively. "But I know it was a fucking fluke, okay?"

"It wasn't a fucking fluke. I'll totally, like, annihilate you, Howell."

Hearing Phil swear is still unnervingly sexy, but his trash talk is bad enough that it makes Dan laugh, distracts him from the taut atmosphere.

Dan meets Phil's eyes, which are twinkling in the low light of the television screen and single bedside lamp. "You're on."

--

When Dan stirs from his weirdly restless dreams, he's got such a pounding headache that he groans dramatically, even though nobody is around to hear him. Every movement is making nausea swell, but he needs to stretch out his sore limbs. He must have slept funny or something.

He starfishes out and jolts fully awake with a stronger wave of nausea when his right hand hits something solid.

Dan yelps, his eyes flying open, and an answering groan from the other side of the bed has him panicking until he recognises the shape of the shoulders and the pattern of the shirt.

"Phil?" he whispers, trying to calm himself down.

"What?"

Phil's sleep-husky voice has heat curling in Dan's stomach that threatens to spread. Luckily, he feels like shit enough for it not to take over his body.

He reaches out again, on purpose this time, and pokes between Phil's shoulder blades. "Uh. Why are you here?"

"Got drunk," Phil grunts. "Fell 'sleep. Go away."

"This is my bed," says Dan.

"Shhh."

"Why am I topless?" Dan asks, mostly to himself. He didn't black out or anything crazy, but the night is kind of blurry around the edges, especially once he and Phil were left alone.

Phil sighs. He rolls over and squints in the general direction of Dan's torso. "You took your shirt off because you said it was too hot."

That does sound like something Dan would do. Although, it also sounds like a tactic he might have used to make Phil distracted enough to lose at Mario Kart. He's kind of glad that he can't remember his thought process behind it.

"Oh," says Dan. "Uh. Hi."

"Hi," says Phil. He yawns and rubs at his eyes. "Glad I brought my contact case. Would have fucking sucked to crash in them."

Phil swearing in such a low, dry voice is almost enough to get Dan's blood flowing south, but then his headache throbs again and reminds it to stay where it is.

"So you can't even see me right now, can you?" Dan laughs, soft. "How bad are your eyes?"

"I can see kind of a light beige blur from here to here," Phil says, gesturing from Dan's face to his tummy. "I'm guessing that's you."

That gets a louder laugh out of Dan, and they both wince.

"Yeah, that's me."

"Don't know about you, Daniel," says Phil, "but I feel like death warmed over right now."

"You can call me Dan, y'know," says Dan. He feels himself blush a bit at the reminder of everything Jaime and Patrick had said in front of Phil. He's glad Phil can't really see him. "Think you know me well enough."

Phil cracks a smile at him and grunts, rubbing more vigorously at his eyes like that'll magically bring his sight back. "Ugh. Need a coffee."

"Coffeemaker's busted," Dan says apologetically. Phil makes a truly pathetic noise, rolling onto his back and putting an arm over his face like a fainting maiden. "Fuck, fine, I'll go get some from the lobby. You needy little shit."

"You're the best, Dan," Phil yawns. "Owe you one."

"Yeah, yeah."

The waves of nausea make Dan move slowly, but they're not so horrible that he thinks he'll actually throw up. He's had a lot of experience with binge drinking until he vomits, and he knows his body well enough to be certain that this and his headache will recede as soon as he eats.

Food is a good idea, actually. Dan picks up his phone to get something greasy delivered to them posthaste.

He's got more activity on Instagram than he expects to, but then he remembers that he'd stupidly posted stories about getting drunk in a hotel room and tagged three semi-famous people in them. He looks at the photos again and decides, well, they're not awful.

A few new unread texts as well, adding to the stack of literally dozens that he keeps meaning to look at, but luckily those are just from his costars.

From Jaime, he gets that was funnnn, and phol is NICE, and hope u used protection xoxoxoox, and yall are sooooo cute omg ur FACE when u look at him, and u dont have to tell me but how long hav yall been datign, and jkdjmmmlllllllll, and sry durjk.

From Patrick, he gets Have you seen my Birkenstocks?

Dan is a little too hungover to deal with a panic attack at this time of day, so he leaves them both on read and orders breakfast for him and Phil.

He looks over at Phil, who's still flat on his back and shielding his eyes. His chest is rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm now, and Dan thinks that he's probably fallen back asleep.

"Lazy oaf," Dan murmurs, fond.

The thing is, Phil looks really good right now. Not the same way he'd looked good last night, when Dan had needed to fight not to jump his bones, but good in a way that makes Dan want to snuggle up next to him. It's a terrifying thought, but Dan thinks he could get used to the sight of Phil, asleep and tangled in Dan's sheets.

His button-down and jeans don't look very comfortable, though. Dan picks his way through his suitcase as quietly as possible and leaves a t-shirt and sweats on the foot of the bed for Phil to put on whenever he wakes up. After a moment's hesitation, he adds clean socks and pants to the pile.

It's not a big deal, he tells himself as he tugs a long sleeved t-shirt over his own head and stuffs his feet into his shoes. He'd do the same for any of his friends. The fact that his heart picks up speed at just the idea of Phil wearing his clothes is totally irrelevant.

So he leaves Phil snoring in his bed to go get them both breakfast. It's a little scary, how he feels like he could do this every single day.

Whatever. He'll deal with that after coffee.

--

"Last night was fun, actually."

Dan blinks up from his phone at the first full sentence Phil has uttered since he was woken up a second time. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," says Phil. "Even if I do feel like shit, I still had fun. I like your friends."

They're both in loungewear - Dan's loungewear, which is a little tight around Phil's upper arms and hips, god - and their delivered breakfast is long gone. Phil had communicated mostly in grunts and gestures until he'd downed half his boiling coffee in one go. It was very caveman of him. Dan hates that he'd found it hot.

Now they're just scrolling on their own phones, leaned up against the headboard, and Dan can feel his resolve start to crumble.

He's still unsure about himself. It's not like he's totally comfortable with the label he's so scared is the one for him, and he still doesn't know what he's doing with the rest of his life, but. He's not as unsure about wanting Phil to be in his life.

"I like them too," Dan says, bringing his lukewarm coffee to his lips to try and mask his slight blush. "I - well, they're probably my best friends. Other than... you."

Dan half expects Phil to laugh awkwardly or get all uncomfortable, but Phil just smiles at him.

"Y'know, I think you're mine, too," he says. "Is that weird?"

"If that's weird, then at least we're both weird," says Dan. Warmth is spreading through his whole body at the confirmation that Phil thinks of him the way he thinks of Phil. "Like I know we haven't known each other for long, or whatever, but that doesn't really seem to matter."

The smile on Phil's pretty face widens to something so bright and genuine that Dan has to look away. "Yeah, exactly. Feels like we were supposed to meet."

Dan rolls his eyes, trying to cover up the way his heart stutters. "Oh no, you're one of those people who believes in destiny."

"Yep," Phil says cheerfully. "Better get used to it."

Honestly, Dan likes the idea of that. Getting used to Phil's ridiculousness is something he thinks he could happily do. Not for the first time, Dan wishes he never had to leave this city.

"It's a good thing you're funny," Dan says, affecting an air of reluctance. It's probably not as effective when he's smiling into his shirt sleeve.

"And cute, right?" Phil teases.

Somehow, Dan had completely blocked that part of the evening from his memory. He groans and covers his face as the moment comes flooding back. God, he's going to kill Jaime for that. He hears Phil laugh, and then Dan's hands are being pulled away from his face by a cool, loose grip on his wrists.

Phil doesn't let go of him right away, just keeps grinning as he holds Dan's wrists between them on the mattress.

"Jaime's a liar," Dan grumbles. His heart is going fucking crazy. "I didn't - I mean, I didn't say you were cute, okay, she's exaggerating."

"What did you say, then?"

"Well. She said Thor was cute and I thought she meant you. That's all."

Dan regrets how well he's allowed Phil to know him, because Phil laughs and slides his hands down to squeeze both of Dan's in response. His touch doesn't linger. Dan bites back noises of disappointment, but Phil is only picking his phone back up.

"Thor is pretty cute, too. I better check up on him."

"Oh, yeah," says Dan. He's grateful for the topic being changed, but he won't act like he didn't want Phil's hands on his for longer. "He's okay, right? I didn't mean to kidnap you."

"Sure you didn't. It's fine, he's at my brother's. I," says Phil, then he stops. If Dan didn't know any better, he'd say Phil's cheeks are turning pink.

"You?" Dan prompts.

Phil gives him a sheepish sort of grin, and - yes. There's colour above his sharp cheekbones that wasn't there when he was teasing Dan. "I dunno. I kind of... figured I'd be staying over, so I dropped him off on my way here."

Now, Dan doesn't have time to unpack all that. He's not stupid or humble; he already knows that Phil wouldn't exactly complain if Dan were to push things further than they are right now. The issue, of course, is that the more important Phil becomes to Dan, the bigger and more dangerous of a leap it would be to go ahead and push that boundary.

He's leaving for a few days early tomorrow morning and putting some physical space between him and Phil, so. He'll overthink it all then, when he can lie on the floor by himself and let the waves of dread crash over him.

It really wouldn't be fair to their friendship to make a snap decision, and it wouldn't be fair to Phil to lie facedown on the hotel room floor while he's still here.

"Really," Dan says flatly, trying so hard not to tip the conversation into anything serious. Today isn't the day for that. "You brought your contact case and left Thor at Martyn's, but couldn't be bothered to bring a change of clothes? Your story is full of holes, Lester."

Phil laughs, a surprised sort of giggle that Dan wishes he could listen to on a loop.

"You caught me," says Phil. His voice is dry, but his eyes twinkle as he turns his attention back to his phone. "My end goal was stealing your trackies."

That might actually be true. Dan isn't opposed.

"You can," he says with a little shrug, like his heart isn't going wild at the thought. "They're a bit short on me, anyway."

"We're the same height, Dan."

"Whatever you need to tell yourself to get through the day, Phil."

Another giggle. Phil's tongue pokes out between his teeth this time, and Dan feels the weirdest sense of pride. "Can I keep the shirt, too?"

"The shirt is a favourite, so you'd have to replace it," Dan says. "But if you're that desperate, sure."

"Nice," says Phil. "How much could it be to replace? Fifteen quid?"

Dan blinks and then honks a laugh. "Yeah, no, that's a Yeezy tee."

"Gesundheit," Phil says kindly.

"You might want to give that one back to me before you go," says Dan. "Because you're off by about a hundred dollars."

Phil's eyes widen comically and he looks down at himself.

"Dan. This is a t-shirt."

"It's a Yeezy t-shirt," Dan corrects him.

"Yeah, you can keep it." Phil sounds wary, like he's got a bomb strapped to his chest. "Have you got anything in the fifteen pound range so I don't feel horrible if I get coffee on it?"

"No," says Dan. Take it off if it bothers you so much, he wants to say, but he bites it back.

"Are these hundred-dollar trackies?"

"No, those are from H&M."

"Alright," Phil says with an exaggerated sigh of relief. "I'll take them off your hands, then."

"If you insist," Dan laughs. "How's Thor doing?"

The way Phil's whole face lights up at the question makes Dan's brain feel like mush. "He's good! Martyn sent me some pictures, you wanna see?"

"Obviously I want to see," says Dan. He scoots closer to Phil, leaning far enough into his space that he can smell the remainder of Phil's cologne still clinging to his neck. Dan holds back a shiver.

For a little while they stay like that, looking through the photos and videos of Thor that Phil's brother sent him and then moving on to photos and videos of Thor that are already saved to Phil's phone. Dan has no complaints - except, maybe, that the dog isn't here and in his lap right now.

It's deceptively easy to picture. Thor, curled up between them as they drink coffee and scroll through their respective feeds in comfortable silence, showing each other funny things every so often. Scratching behind Thor's ears and smiling over at Phil, unguarded. Happy.

This is going to make Dan crazy if he isn't careful. The domestic fantasies are somehow so much worse than the filthy ones.

"Do you want to do anything today?" Dan asks once Phil has reached puppy pictures and Dan is in very real danger of ugly crying over how tiny the corgi was. "I know we had plans, but I've still got a pretty massive headache."

"Oh, that's okay," says Phil. "I can head home whenever."

"No," Dan says, too quickly. "No, you - you can stay. I just mean I don't feel like, y'know, going anywhere. Let's just watch some movies and veg the fuck out."

"Alright," says Phil. His smile is slow and his voice is deep and his eyes are three different colours and goddamn, Dan is so fucked.

More than anything else that's happened with Phil since they met, this day is the thing making Dan's head spin. It isn't anything to write home about, all in all, since they really do just keep ordering food and watch made-for-tv movies until Phil has to leave, but.

Maybe it's having Phil wrapped up in the blankets of his temporary home, making half of Dan's bed smell like him. Maybe it's the way Phil keeps touching him so casually, a hand on his knee while they talk or rapid taps against his arm when Phil correctly predicts a plot twist. Maybe it's just Dan's internal walls starting to come down, less and less guilt surrounding the craving he has for the sound of Phil's laughter the longer that he's exposed to it.

In any case, Dan has to unpack all of these feelings before he sees Phil again. It's not something he's looking forward to, but maybe having a deadline will help.

Like it ever has in the past. Fuck.

[ashleighxx]

Klarolinemashup Day Three

Sunday16th|TropeMashupPrompt|MythicalCreatures+CoffeeshopAU

She was deep into her favorite book, coffee machines and people chattering as background noise as she was consumed by the story yet again, and she never tired of the feeling she got when she submerged herself into a new world, lived a different life from someone else's eyes.

"Your kind are hard to come by." A deep, accented voice brought her out of her reverie.   She glanced up from her book that was sat in front of her next to her latte and saw a handsome man. He had stubble which helped emphasise his jawline a bit, short, curly, brown hair and bright blue eyes. Very handsome indeed. He exuded charm, bravado and power underneath the good looking exterior, her inner demon was itching to come out and play. Can tell how powerful he was, can tell how more powerful he could be too. Her demon smiled in delight. "And yours is fun to play with." "I'm glad you think so, maybe you can help me out with a tiny problem?" He leaned forward into her personal space, his scent of woods and whisky and age travelled to her, she nestled purred in delight. "What kind of problem?" She raised her eyebrow in question, trying to tame herself, rein her claws and teeth that itches to sink into his skin. "One that requires your unusual tactics. Come by place tomorrow," he passed her a business card with and address and number on, "we can have a chat in private if you're interested." And with that he stood up from his chair and walked out of the coffee shop. Glancing at his card she spotted his name. Klaus Mikaelson. His kind was so much fun indeed. Especially a family of Original vampires.

.

Caroline walked up the pathway leading her to a massive mansion. The architecture of the place was simply stunning and was highlighted with the off-white limestone paint. She stood in front of the huge door way, two large marble pillars at either side of her, she knocked the door quietly knowing she would be heard. "Well hello there, darling. What can I do for you?" The young, dark haired, roughing looking man greeted her. A seductive smile graced his face but his eyes were all predatory. A gust of wind drew her attention behind him where Klaus appeared. "Come in, love. Ignore my brother Kol here would you, he knows no manners." Stepping into the house she was awestruck by the beauty of the interior. No matter how long she had lived her life, she still loved seeing the beauty in the world, was still shocked by the wonderful sight of it all. Caroline turned back to see Klaus gazing at her with a pleased smiled, and he should. "So you're the succubus." Kol concluded before his features lit with glee and mischievous. "You have got to do me! Glamour me, put me in a trance!" He practically jumped around like he was a child wanting treats, a dog wanting it's chew toy. Caroline looked at Klaus to see if his brother was insane or dead serious in his request and the hybrid shrugged his shoulders a little, giving her the choice to use her power on him or not. She looked into the younger originals eyes and felt her power prickle beneath the skin, smiling seductively she touched his shoulder as she walked passed, leaving him to sand where he was, stuck until his visions were over. "Follow me."

The hybrid led her into his study slash studio. The large room was split in two, on the left was an easel and paints decorated around a table, canvases strewn across the side wall and sketch book upon sketch book stacked on a side table too. She was surprised that the art studio was as organised as an artist could be. She's seen her fair share of them over the centuries. The right side of the room had floor to ceiling height bookcases, lined up with ancients rolls of parchment and books. A large wooden desk was sat in front of the bookcases and a chair in between them, facing his art studio. In the middle of the room sat two sofas opposite each other and a table in between. Decanters of blood and alcohol inside them. "Please sit." Klaus nudged her further into the room and he walked around her to gather some crystal glasses, sitting on a sofa while he poured the brown liquid into them. "So how did you know what I am? Only a few know my kind exists, never mind actually finding us." Caroline asked him. It was true though, not many people seemed to find her species out, even witches claimed they were myth and that only vampires and werewolves existed. "Let's just say my brother Kol is on good terms with a friend of yours, Lorenzo?" She nodded, thinking of ways she's gonna kill him if this goes wrong. "Well he told us if your location as you were closer to us than him. He also said you wouldn't mind as you'll enjoy playing." Caroline took a deep gulp of her whisky as Klaus leaned back in his chair, confident that she would help. He had a tiny gleam in his eyes, excitement. Hers probably matched his, she did enjoy having fun. "What is it you wish for me to do?" "What is it you can do?" Klaus challenged her, not many that did know of her existence knew the power she held and how she weaved it. It's how they liked it. "Don't you worry about that, what do you need done?" She challenged. "There's a precious stone that I need to retrieve, but I cannot procure an invite to the house. The town of Mystic Falls are aware of vampires and their weaknesses due to a council of founding families. The whole town aren't aware but just enough to get messy when I need to do a bit of light thievery and murder you know?" He paused sipping on his drink before he carried on. "The moonstone I need back is in the mayor's house, somewhere. There is also a teeny glitch called the Salvatore brothers. Both vampires and harbouring my doppelgänger." Caroline was deep in thought planning, seeing what powers would be needed and what not. Humans are easy, they don't really question much. Vampires, though fun to play with, may be able to tell if she put them in a trance depending on how old they are.

“So why don't you just kill them all in a horrific town meeting then take the doppelgänger?”

“My brother, Elijah, made me a deal unfortunately. If I was to spare his deceitful doppelgänger who escaped my last ritual and promised not to kill anyone next time round, then he and his whore would help me by keeping an eye on her family lineage, let me know when a new doppelgänger popped up and stay out of the way.”

A few hours later, a few more drinks later, Caroline and Klaus had finally mapped out a plan and a contingency plan and a further few more ideas if anything should go wrong. But she was confident in getting the job done the first time. Klaus was doubting as he didn't know of her abilities and he also didn't want the ritual to go wrong.

Suddenly the doors barged open, Kol standing in a slight gaze, looking at her in awe with a huge smile on his face. "Oh my God. That. That was amazing! Wow. Nik, you need a go of that.." He thrummed in excitement. "Thank you." And with that he flashed back out.

"What did you make him see? When he was in that trance?" Klaus asked her, still curious of her powers. She didn't mind answering this though as she didn't know herself. "When I put people in that trance like state of mind, it shows the person their desires. It could be money, power, sex. It differs person to person. Once in that trance I could see what they are seeing, use that information to seduce them into plans and schemes or I could choose not to see their desires and still feed on the power they produce from the trance." "So that's one of your powers?" "And that's all you're getting to know of them." She pointed her finger at him sternly. . It only took Caroline an evening to do her tasks, like she told the hybrid, so she waited until the night before the full moon. She made sure he had his witch waiting for the ritual. She was in the Grille for her unsuspected target, son of the mayor, Tyler. He was so into her all evening that she didn't need to seduce him with her powers before he invited her home. Luckily enough for both of them, he passed out in bed from all the alcohol he drank. Waiting until she could hear his parents sleeping she cast her powers over them that made sure they slept, giving her plenty of time to find the moonstone in the location Tyler drunkenly slipped out. The house only had one safe. After Caroline pocketed the moonstone, she made her way over to the Salvatore boarding house. The eldest brother and the school teacher, from the notes and research Klaus told her of, sat by the fire drinking, brooding. From the power she absorbed from the Lockwood's, she felt it prickle under her skin, itching to get out. She focused her power as she let it loose and she knocked the pair out before casting them into a sleep. Just one more house to visit tonight then she had work to do tomorrow to keep them distracted. The Gilbert house, just three humans and a vampire staying in the house. Perfect. It was nearly sunrise so the occupants were already asleep, making her job so much easier. The aunt and brother were the easy targets, but the vampire had to be done first in case he woke up and spotted her. Once the three were under her spell she woke the brunette doppelgänger up, her eyes lit in fear and confusion as Caroline's eyes turn silver whispering seductive commands for her to calm down and follow, into her car and back to her hotel where Klaus waited for her.

He smiled gratefully as he took the moonstone and the Gilbert girl away, leaving her to get some much needed rest and a shower.

The next day she spent all day trapping them inside the grille unknowingly under her spell before she made her way to the woods to watch Klaus' ritual. Watching him slaughter three innocents before he fell to the floor, blood dripping down him, bones cracking and golden eyes. Breathtaking. . Caroline spent three days pacing her hotel room nervously, constantly checking her phone for any signs of him being alive. She wasn't used to feeling this anxious before, this need to know if someone is safe. But she had and she needed to know. So she grabbed her bag and made her way to the front door, surprised at opening it to reveal the hybrid in question, looking very much alive. Looking very, very attractive. Wearing his dark grey henley, black jeans that fitted his rear perfectly, black combat boots and his array of necklaces. Bringing her eyes to his face hoping she wasn't caught practically drooling, she brought herself back down to her mask of boredom and nonchalance. "Finally going to take me up on that trance offer?" He walked in without taking his eyes off her and closed the door after him, "You could try if you want." Frowning, Caroline brought her power from deep within her, felt it being cast over Klaus but it didn't click, didn't sink into his body but instead drew back into her. "It didn't work." "Performance issues." He joked as he walked towards her, making her step back unconsciously. "That's never happened before." She was still staring back into his eyes as she felt the wall hit her back all of a sudden, Klaus standing in front of her, gazing, searching. "Why didn't it work?" She questioned herself more than him, but he answered anyway. "Because I don't want a little fantasy, Caroline. I want the real thing." His voice came out husky as he positioned himself, hitching her right leg over his hip and drawing his hand on her bare thigh as her dress moved. "The real thing?" She gulped in anticipation, blood pumping with arousal. "And what real thing do you want?" She spoke breathlessly. His other hand came up and cradled her face, both thumbs moving in circles, in sync with each other over her soft skin. He tilted her face up towards his more as he closed the gap between them. Both smiling as their eyes flicked to the others lips and back to each other's eyes. "You." He barely managed to get the words out before his mouth finally reached hers, her hands coming up to cling on to the back of his neck, grabbing into his curls as she deepened the kiss.