#dieter bravo fluff

[chronically-ghosted]

listen, most of my dieter fics are just me acting out my random and wild desires alongside my crazy little boy

thanks so much for reading and i'm glad you liked it!

delicious

rating: T (for cursing and drug use)

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

word count: 2160

summary: in order to make a fundraising event bearable, you and Dieter take edibles. When the event runs long, your only chance to make it out alive is to find something to eat. 

warnings: drug use (it’s just edibles c’mon you narc), eating, the munchies, messy kissing, dieter bravo being a giant goofball and i hate him, this fic is so self-indulgent i'm embarrassed FOR you, FLUFF

a/n: this one kicked my butt, idk why. But @ravensmadreads says its good so here you go. For my 100 followers event (this is the last one! wow!): @sp00kymulderr asked: Taylor!! Congrats on 100, you’re my favourite blog honestly I check your posts every day just to read your tags lmao. For the celebration can I request some of our sweet boy Dieter with the prompt “We should probably leave, before we start a scandal.” it’s absolutely perfect

🤍Masterlist

After thirty minutes, your eyes are starting to cross. Your high-ribbed dress pinches the soft skin under your tits and the boob tape is starting to chafe your nipples. The ruby red heels have officially given you blisters but the worst – the absolute worst of it – you’re fucking starving.

And the Layaway Barbie at the podium marches on, her big eyes wet and her mouth begging, as she proves to a roomful of donors why they should spend another million in . . . tree-frog rehabilitation. Dieter had been drawn to the little green guys with red eyes on the front of the invitation and as the guest of honor for his “philanthropic” work when he was “dating” a Doctor Without (personal) Borders six years ago, how could he not go?

Let’s take an edible before we go, he said. 

Whatever the vibe, it’ll be better if we’re on edibles, honey. 

That is the last time you let him convince you of anything while he’s not wearing pants and his hand is down yours. 

Your stomach grumbles and you fight back a whine. You make a noise like that and someone will definitely know you’re on drugs. The portly man next you has been staring at you with poorly hidden disgust all night as it is. But for now, his eyes focus in on Layaway Barbie, his loose jowls around his permanently down-turned mouth reminding you of a cartoon character. But which one?

Your eyes narrow at him. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye and it comes to you.

“Droopy!” you yelp and immediately clap your hand over your mouth. Your table mates eye you as if you are some society dredge they did not wish to involve themselves with. 

You turn as best you can in your seat, ready to either be scolded by Dieter or have him laugh with you, but he does neither.

In fact, cross-armed, low in his seat, he lets out a low snore. 

It’ll be fun, he said. 

“Dieter!” You hiss. Nothing. His face is relaxed, lips parting as he falls deeper asleep. Irate you didn’t think of it first, you smack him across the knee. “Dieter!”

He jerks, eyelids cracking open briefly, and suddenly he drops his chin again.

“Thank you for your blessing and influence, oh Lord. Am— oh, hey, baby, what’s up?” 

“Don’t ‘hey, baby, what’s up�� me. You were asleep and you just faked praying.” 

“Better than faking other things,” he yawns loudly, blinks a bit, and realizes the “inspiring” speech (and presentation) is still going on. “Oh, fuck, we’re gonna die here.” 

“Can you please keep it down?” The woman to Dieter’s right snaps. “You are making a mockery of a serious and pressing issue facing our society.”

Dieter blinks at her, his arms still across his chest. You can hear the bitch climb up his throat before he even opens his mouth.

“Well, you’re making a mockery of that dress and you don’t see me complaining–,”

You snag him by the hand and pull him away from the table before the woman has the good sense to throw her drink into his face. 

He stumbles behind you as you push on the metal bar, the latch clicking, and you both tumble out into the empty hotel hallway. When the event started, everyone had been herded in from the other doors, where the lobby was. This looks like the kind of hallway drunk co-eds wander down while trying to find the bathroom after prom. 

Which – ironically –

His big paw clutches your waist as he falls, or rather, stumbles into a tacky maroon and gold wall. In the fumbling under his legs as they overtake you, and keeping the rim of your heels from biting into your already puckered flesh, he manages to pin you beneath him. The instant the smell of his cologne washes over you, the instinct to claw his stupid eyes out evaporates. You sigh, both of his hands cupping your neck. 

“Mhmm, there she is,” he murmurs, sing-song, kissing your nose. “Little hellcat turns baby kitten when she gets what she needs.” 

“You are the biggest idiot I know,” you purr into his ear as his hands slide through the layers of your skirt to your ass. 

“Yes, but I’m your idiot.” The cry you let out when he pinches your ass cheek beneath your dress is all the answer he needs. 

Hands full of your thighs, he rubs you up the wall but there’s too many layers, too much gossamer to get him where you need him. His breath comes in short pants as he presses sloppy, wet kisses to your shoulder, your clavicle, your cheek. 

There it comes again. Hunger. Driven on by –

You bite him.

“Ow!” 

He pulls back and your mouth drops open in horror – you didn’t mean to bite him that hard and –

Your stomach lets out the most petulant growl. 

Hand on his neck like it’s bleeding, Dieter follows your gaze to your stomach as if it had called his name.

And then you both break out into side-splitting laughter. 

He eases you down, giggling, his nose pressed to your temple. Were you at home, the sex would have probably continued, but the atmosphere would be different – playful, teasing – he once did a Kermit the Frog impression while balls-deep inside of you and you laughed so hard you instantly came all over him. 

“Baby,” he sighs through his teeth and kisses your hairline. “I know. I’m so fucking hungry.” He snaps his teeth by your ear and you push him back by his chest. Two goddam years of dating this moron and he still makes you blush like you’re fifteen and necking with a band geek. 

His fingers wrap around your wrist to hold your hand above his heart, kissing your knuckles. He sucks your thumb once before you yelp, and he pushes your fist into his hair as you try to squirm away. He smirks into your neck.

“Dieter!”

“I’m hungry!”

“You’re the one who suggested we take edibles before coming to this thing.” 

“Mhmm, let’s go home and do more drugs.”

“But you owe me dinner. Five Guys?”

“Baby, I have to eat something first to have enough stamina for that.”

“Oh my god, you –,”

He bites you on your earlobe again, grinning as he comes behind you to nudge you down the hall. “I know what you meant. I’m down for burgers, but I want, like, five.”

“Me too. Carry me? My feet hurt.”

“Of course, mah kwehn,” he nods as he scoops you up across his broad shoulders, momentarily taking on the affectation of Jon Snow and his loyalty to the dragon queen. 

You’re working to kick your heels off as he marches the two of you down the hallway and you’ve nearly gotten your second heel off (the first in your lap) when he suddenly stops. 

“Oi, Thomas, we’re not at the train station yet,” you grumble as you reach for your heel, awkwardly tucked under you and his arm. “Keep it going. Choo choo, you know?” 

He still isn’t moving. You frown up at him, another transportation joke at the ready, but his wide-eyed stare gives you pause. 

“What are you looking at?” You turn in his arms, hunger now officially twisting your stomach painfully. “Why’d you–,”

Your mouth falls open. 

Beyond two double doors at the end of the hall sits a silver cart, loaded with tiny chocolate desserts. 

You swallow the spit flooding your mouth. This time, his stomach grumbles as if to add to the argument. 

“Dieter, put me down.” He all but drops you. 

“Dieter, we can’t.” 

“Why?” 

“We shouldn’t.” 

“Why?”

“You’re only saying that because we’re both high as fuck right now and I’d eat bathroom soap if I could.” 

That seems to rattle him out of his starvation-induced stupor. He snorts and rolls his eyes. “Please, when have I ever not eaten something I wasn’t supposed to?” 

You blink up at him, now several inches shorter without your heels. “What? None of that made sense.” 

“Doesn’t matter. I’m going for it.” 

He strides past a very wide hallway branching back towards the lobby of the hotel, no doubt where several waiters intended to roll dessert out to the waiting reception. They’d be back at any second, but either due to being higher than a kite, his own innate lack of shame, or a combination of the two, Dieter is across the hallway in seconds and he snatches up two of the little chocolate spheres and shoves them both into his mouth at the same time.

“Holy shit, they’re cream puffs.” 

Your hunger nearly doubles you over. “C-cream puffs? Those are m-my–,”

“Your favorite. I know. Mhmm, fucking get over here.”

Trembling from a lack of food and nerves, you slink over to him, hand out-stretched. He’s already had four more by this point and he’s stacking more onto a single plate as your fingers squish around one right in front of you. You pinch and the gooey white cream eases out the side. You whimper. 

Dieter pauses, the tips of his fingers stained with dark chocolate and a dollop of cream on his cheek. 

“That’s the sound you make when I eat you out.” 

Rather than answer your boyfriend, you pop the cream puff into your mouth. Your eyes roll back in your head as the pastry melts on your tongue.

“Oh fuuuck.” 

Dieter watches with growing concern as you scarf down pastry after pastry. “Okay, now I’m a little offended you’re so turned on by this.” 

“Shut up, and let me eat.” 

In minutes, the silver cart is empty. Chocolate smeared across a dozen haphazardly-arranged plates, dots of cream littering the spaces between plates and on the edge of the cart, it looks like a fucking war zone of confectionery. 

You find yourself breathing heavy, your face and arms covered in the guts of those poor, poor baked goods. Dieter isn’t faring much better, his jacket stained and beard sticky. Your hunger is sated, for now, but you think of burgers and fries and a vanilla milkshake and immediately turn to Dieter, who stares back at you with wide eyes.

“I want six burgers–,”

“We should probably leave before we start a scandal–,”

You stare at each other, soldiers shell-shocked, rehabilitated werewolves in horror of their bloodshed. Bloodlust.

The second you get home you’re gonna give him the kind of blow job that stops his heart.

Half-way laughing, half-way crying, you take him by the collar, further smearing chocolate over the starched white linen and his neck, and kiss him soundly on his conspicuous mouth. He giggles through the kiss and cups your cheeks, his massive hands sticky and warm. 

“We should go . . .” he murmurs again before pressing his lips to you again. Cream puffs or no, it all tastes better when you lick it off the corner of his mouth. 

“We’re gonna have to walk past the lobby,” you bemoan into his patchy beard. Dieter smirks and without warning, squeezes your right tit, leaving a very clear chocolatey handprint on your dress. 

“Dieter!”

“C’mon, baby, I wanna devour you. And I want all of them to know it.”

That was the thing about Dieter Bravo, he never did anything small. He never allowed you to feel small. He was obsessive about taking pictures of you, posting them everywhere, never ashamed of you and desperate to have the world see you the way he did. 

Like you were delicious. 

“I’ll buy you six burgers if you let us walk out like this.”

“Deal.” 

Grinning like only a man with nothing to hide can, he takes you by the hand and leads you back towards the very fancy dinner you’ve both no doubt been kicked out of. 

Something rises up in you the longer you stare at his broad back. 

“Dieter, wait.”

He pauses, turns, and crumbles slightly beneath the weight and intensity of your kiss.

“I love you,” you say before he can slip his tongue into your mouth. 

Dieter Bravo does nothing small, is nothing small. Except when it’s just you and him and the words you just uttered hang in the air between you. A small, hesitant smile expands across his lips, as if he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing but it warms him nonetheless.

“I love you too.” 

He kisses your nose and you sigh into him. You could stay like this forever, wrapped up in him. But then you might just eat him alive.

“Burgers, Dieter.”

“Right, right. How many do you think we can buy at one time?” 

You both ignore the paparazzi and their cameras as you walk hand in hand, your heels in your other hand, with Dieter out the front door and into the limo, arguing about which fast food joint would let you get at least twenty burgers. 

Nothing about Dieter Bravo is small. Especially his appetite. 

[mysterious-moonstruck-musings]

Closed Position: Week 5 (Rumba Part 4)

Closed Position Masterlist ||| Main Masterlist Dieter Bravo x OFC (Katarina)

Series Summary: Dieter Bravo, now sober, was looking to change his bad boy image after hitting rock bottom. His team hoped that having him join the nationally televised family friendly dance competition, Dancing with the Stars, would be a good first step, if they can keep him out of trouble. 

Katarina Stamos expected her last season as a professional dancer on the show to go the same as it had for the past thirteen seasons. That all changed when she was partnered with the infamous Dieter Bravo. 

Dieter and Katarina are reluctantly thrown into their partnership and must learn to work together to succeed in the competition. In the process they form a deeper connection beyond the dance floor that neither anticipated.

Chapter Word Count: 25.2k (I know, I'm sorry!)

👉 Warnings: Themes dealing with intimate partner violence (not by or toward Dieter), past alcohol abuse, and past drug abuse. There will be fluff, tears, spicy language, and smut. This will be a slow burn. Read at your own risk. Dieter Bravo comes with his own warnings.

👉 Chapter Warnings: Dieter and Kat both being a menace, smut, fluff, and physical assault

Chapter Quote: “Use me, fucking destroy me, and put me out of my misery. Please.” 

Dieter’s POV  Early Saturday morning, I awoke from the best night’s sleep I’d had in some time. I laid there with my eyes closed, reveling in the soft citrus and plum scent that surrounded me as I snuggled against Kat’s warm body. I felt the need to pinch myself to make sure this wasn’t a dream. It was a vision that often danced behind my eyelids, but it never felt like this. It felt better than I could have ever imagined. The connection between us was indescribable. Sure, the release that came along with the sex was great, but it didn’t compare to the feelings and intimacy. I had never experienced anything like it before. It only further proved that this woman fucking owns me - mind, body, and soul. The scariest part is that I was willingly giving her all of myself. I didn’t second guess it. I knew I was falling hard and was suddenly open to dealing with any pain that might come from it. I wasn’t sure if it was growth, or if Kat just had that kind of effect on me.  

Kat shifted in my arms, snuggling in closer with a content sigh. My eyes blinked open, now focusing on her relaxed face that was nearly nose to nose with mine. I took the time to study her features in a way I had never had the opportunity to until now. She had the faintest scar just under her left eyebrow, one small freckle on her cheek, and another on her nose. Her lips were full and pouty with a deep rosy color. They still looked a little puffy from the previous night’s exploits, which made me smile over the memory of the way they felt against mine. The sun was beginning to sneak through the gaps in the curtains, emphasizing the subtle copper undertones in the darker strands of her hair. I couldn’t help reaching to run my fingers through it, gently pulling the stray bits away from her cheeks.  

A lazy smile slid across her lips at my touch, “I can feel you staring at me.”  

The way her voice sounded gravelly from sleep was doing things to me. It was so fucking sexy.  

“I’m sorry…I’ve told you, a work of art is meant to be appreciated. I can’t resist.” 

Her thick lashes fluttered open, amber eyes focusing on me with a playful glint as she leaned forward to nuzzle her nose against mine before placing a firm kiss on my lips. She pulled away, laying her head back down as she reached to run her fingers through my hair. I grasped her arm, placing gentle kisses on the inside of her wrist before settling her hand between us. I reached toward her face, rubbing my thumb over her lips.  

I couldn’t help smiling, “Your lips look swollen.”  

She kissed my thumb, then smiled back. “Good. I guess I won’t need that plumping lip gloss after all.” 

We both chuckled, before settling into a comfortable silence, taking each other in. Our eyes danced around each other’s faces as our hands began to glide over any bare skin they could reach. Kat’s fingers snaked around my neck, pulling me closer to her. I shifted, settling between her thighs. She wasted no time, wrapping her toned legs around my waist, hugging me tightly to her as she ran her fingertips through the scruff on my chin. My hand roamed the length of her body, feeling the softness of her skin against mine. We took turns placing soft kisses on each other's faces, noses rubbing together as we got lost in each other’s eyes. Kat gently sucked on my bottom lip. I couldn’t help the groan that slipped out as she smirked up at me.  

“You’re so fucking perfect. You know that? You’ve absolutely ruined me for anyone else,” I mumbled against her mouth.  

She let out a sultry laugh, her voice somehow lower as she spoke, “And I’m only getting started.”  

I could feel myself getting hard as her warm center brushed against me, but oddly enough, I didn’t want to escalate things. I just wanted to be wrapped up in her - enjoying her touch, her smell, and her warmth.  

Somewhere off in the distance, I could hear my phone going off. I sighed, raising my head to glance over at the clock on the nightstand.  

“That’s probably my alarm.” My hand ran down the side of her body, giving her ass a firm squeeze, “I’m gonna go get us some breakfast. Get yourself a little more sleep while I’m gone, Ok?”  

Kat pouted as I leaned down to kiss the tip of her nose. She settled back into bed, hiking the duvet up to stick one leg out as she cocooned the rest of her body in the heavy bedding. I could see her eyes peeking out as I stood to go shower and get dressed. I couldn’t fight the urge to lightly run my fingertips down the bottom of her exposed foot as I walked by. Her toes curled as she jerked her foot away and let out a frustrated huff. I chuckled, exiting her room to go to mine. 

After getting presentable, I threw on a hat and sunglasses and headed out the door. I remembered seeing a small diner a few blocks north that looked worth trying, so I set out in that direction. I was in a bit of a daze after the evening I spent with Kat. I had admittedly been laying it on thick the last few days, hoping that something would happen between us. By Wednesday, I was certain there was something there after the hair straightening incident. I hadn’t intended for that to turn into such an intimate moment. I felt like I was really pushing it with the light grazes along her neck, but she seemed to be responding positively to it. Her reaction only egged me on. I didn’t even try to avoid flirting with her after that.  

I wanted her to know where I stood, if she was receptive to it. She definitely seemed to be later that afternoon as I playfully pulled her into my arms and began dancing with her to the song she had been singing along with. There was no doubt in my mind that if my phone hadn't rang, she would have kissed me. It figures that the call turned out to be about Alec, because of course that guy was still cock-blocking us from the other side of the country.  

One of the highlights from our week was when we popped into the plant boutique. I half expected her to hate it, but she seemed to genuinely enjoy herself as she listened to me rambling and browsed the merchandise. We had a good laugh over the penis cactus, taking the opportunity to let loose and be ourselves more than usual. After our near kiss earlier in the day, the experience had my emotions all over the place. I loved that she was making an effort to be involved with one of my favorite hobbies. No one else had bothered to even try or cared to.   

I was trying not to overdo it with her, but I couldn’t resist the casual touches as we moved through the shop. She seemed to reciprocate them by mussing my curls at one point and leaning into me as we stood staring at the shelves. Then there was the moment where I ran my fingers through her hair. She seemed to momentarily get lost in my touch, closing her eyes and savoring the feeling. When her eyes opened and met mine, I was breathless from what I saw there. I knew she was feeling this too. I wanted nothing more than to tell her how I was feeling right then, but I needed it to be on her terms. I needed her to want it too and I wasn’t fully convinced that she was willing yet. It was obvious that she was feeling something, but I couldn’t work out if she was ready to act on it.  

Later that evening, we rehearsed on the terrace, eventually being met with rain. After we gave up and I got us some towels, we had another moment that honestly took me off guard. I was eager to get her dry and warm once I realized she was shivering, but I did not expect her to lean into me like she did. My heart was pounding out of my chest as I wrapped my arms around her from behind and rested my cheek against the side of her head. We were definitely edging into new territory in that moment. The tension between us was palpable. I could tell she was sensing it too as she seemed lost in thought, almost stuck - afraid to initiate things further, but also not wanting to end it. She eventually did though, pulling away to head to her room for the night. I was disappointed, but I knew she needed her space. I would give her as much as she needed.  

That following morning, I had been lying in bed doing my morning scroll through social media when I got a message notification from Evan. He had forwarded me a post with the text “FYI”. I wasn’t sure what I was looking at first. All I could see was two people kissing from a distance, but then I clicked to view the post and swiped through the pictures. It was Alec and Lana. I felt my stomach drop. I was instantly worried about how this would affect Kat. At that point, I still didn’t know what had happened between them. I didn’t know if this would be a surprise or not. I was worried this would cause her to build that wall up between us again, but also, I was concerned that she would be hurt by it. 

I was relieved to know that she knew about the two of them already. I could tell that she was hurt by the pictures, but she wasn’t letting it get to her. Luckily, it was our day to film the Dirty Dancing skit. I made it my mission to keep her laughing all day, making a complete fool of myself as we filmed.  

The flirty atmosphere still seemed to thrive between us as the day went on, so much so that I didn’t even think about what I was doing when I kissed her on the forehead as we wrapped up filming. I tried to play it off as a friendly thank you but wasn’t sure if I succeeded. She seemed a bit stunned by it, causing me to worry that I took it too far. My worry faded when I caught sight of her after an attractive blonde had approached me about a date. She was watching the exchange, appearing to be anxious over our interaction. Once we were alone, I felt the need to make it clear that I wasn’t interested in anyone but her. I even went so far to say that she and Zee were the only women in my life. I didn’t know how to be any blunter about it without actually saying it. To further emphasize my point, I offered to take her to dinner that night. That seemed to smooth things over. Dinner went well, even though we did have to behave ourselves since eyes were on us.   

Later that evening, she finally opened up to me about what happened with Alec. I honestly wasn’t shocked to learn she caught him cheating with Lana. I just wasn’t prepared for how she caught him cheating. I knew that had to be hard on her and I wished she would have confided in me sooner so that I could support her through it. However, I understood her need to process it. I was still the first person she had talked to about it, which made me feel good. I appreciated that she trusted me enough to confide in me like that.  

The foot massage incident followed that conversation. I had to laugh about that now. I legitimately hadn’t intended to get her worked up the way I had. I just sort of noticed it happening as she talked to me. She wasn’t exactly subtle about it when she began to rub her thighs together. Curiosity got the best of me, so I started paying a little extra attention to a certain part of her foot that has been known to stimulate an orgasm for some people. I watched her cheeks flush as she squirmed under my gaze. I could see that her breathing was picking up as her muscles tensed. I was honestly shocked she hadn’t stopped me by that point. The moment her mouth fell open, I really thought she was going to let it happen, but then she jerked her foot away. I was amused by her trying to play it off and couldn’t help teasing her a bit.  

The following day while I was at the studio rehearsing for SNL, Kat had gone to my dressing room to rest. I was happy she took me up on the offer because I could tell she wasn’t feeling the greatest, despite what she said. I had offered to come get her during our next break so we could rehearse the monologue. I wasn’t shocked to find her snoozing away on the couch. I sat on the edge next to her, briefly pausing to take in her sleeping form and admire how beautiful she looked. As I reached to shake her awake, she mumbled something in her sleep. I froze, hoping to hear more. I watched her lips turn to a pout. Something was clearly making her unhappy. I sat with my hand still extended, debating on how long I should wait. She snuggled against the blanket tucked around her as her pout faded to a small smile, then she mumbled something else. I could only make out two words, “Dieter” and “stay”. I thought my heart was going to explode at the realization that she was dreaming about me. Those two words gave me so much hope that she was feeling the same things as me. They were the driving force behind the way I handled things as the day progressed. 

I was feeling further emboldened and wasn’t holding back by the time we all piled into the car to go to the blues club later that evening, not hesitating to pull Kat into my lap and hold her tight against me. Our faces were mere inches apart from each other the entire ride, which only increased the tension and spurred the innuendos between us. The heated glances continued to pass between us throughout dinner and I found that I couldn’t keep my hands off of her. She didn’t seem to mind, often leaning in to my touch or returning it in some way.  

I was honestly shocked that we ended up on stage after dinner. Sure, I had been joking about getting her up there, but I never thought she would actually do it. I took full advantage of the moment and chose the songs strategically. I knew Kat tended to connect with music in a way most people probably didn’t. Honestly, we both do it. That became obvious to me early on as we planned out our dance routines. So, I knew the lyrics would get through to her and mean something. I could tell she had picked up on it, especially since she asked why I chose those songs. I ached to tell her how I was feeling, but this wasn’t the time or the place. I opted to keep my response vague but gave her enough to make her think. At that point, the only thing I could think about was getting her back to the hotel. I needed to be alone with her. My hope was that we might finally talk about things, given how the day had gone. However, I never expected it to go from zero to a hundred in an instant.  

When we first started rehearsing after getting back to the hotel, it was obvious Kat wasn’t on top of her game. She seemed distracted. As we continued on, the atmosphere between us shifted. I had no doubt that she was willing to meet me halfway after seeing the way she was looking at me. Her touches had become more sensual as she closed the space between us to the point that there was none. I could tell she was hanging on by a thread and I knew I was probably pushing it to suggest that we keep dancing, but I wanted her to know that I was all in. I also wanted to make it clear that it was her decision. It always would be.  

The moment she finally kissed me, I felt like I was having an out of body experience. It didn’t seem real. I had wanted it so badly for so long that I couldn't believe it was actually happening. I was set on keeping it soft and sweet so as not to overwhelm her, but then her hands dropped to the hem of my shirt and pulled it off. I was briefly stunned, shocked she was going there. I had to make sure it’s what she really wanted. I needed her to know that this meant something to me before we took it too far and ruined our friendship. The second she told me she was sure about it, I let go. I wanted to show her how I was feeling, to worship her like she deserved.  

And worship her I did. I took it slowly. Learning how her body responded to my touch. She was so easy to read, eliciting quiet moans when I found the right spots. Her brows would pinch together in pleasure as she arched into me, seeking more. It was so fucking hard for me to keep it together so that I could take care of her. She had me on edge from the moment she kissed me, but I somehow managed.  

I honestly couldn’t remember the last time I had sex while sober. It had been a very long time, but I knew without a doubt that it hadn’t been like this. I didn’t feel the things I was feeling with her. I had never felt them with anyone. She had awoken something inside of me and brought me back to life. It was scary but also sort of freeing. It solidified the fact that I was irrevocably in love with her, and I knew I would do anything it took to keep her happy and safe.  

After we finished, I suddenly felt vulnerable, retreating into myself and expecting the inevitable dismissive attitude that I typically get from people afterward. I braced myself, waiting for it, because I knew that it would crush me coming from her. I should have known better though. She���s not like the rest of them. She cares about me and made it perfectly obvious from the start. However, some emotional scars are harder to overcome - always screaming at me from the back of my mind. It would take time and a good person to condition me away from that way of thinking. I wanted that person to be her.  

The relief I felt when she asked me to stay was indescribable. It caused a flood of new emotions that I didn’t really understand. I tried to unpack them in the moment, but I couldn’t. Instead, I shifted my focus to caring for her. I wanted to make sure she was OK after our time together. Then it kind of hit me, what she had mumbled in her sleep, “Dieter, stay.” I suddenly felt more connected to her, realizing that maybe she understood things more than I realized. She confirmed it as we talked afterward. Alec didn’t stick around after either. It pissed me off, and further stoked my need to take care of her. I needed to show her that she deserved more, and I would happily give her everything. Even if that meant opening myself up to the things I was afraid of. 

As I walked through the door of the diner, I wondered how this would go when we got back to LA. I wondered if she would want to be open about us or keep it on the down low for a time because of everything we were already dealing with. As I sat filling out my order ticket, I decided to suggest that we keep it quiet for a while. Mostly for her safety because I was concerned about Alec. He may not even care now that he’s moved on, but I didn’t want to chance it.  

I handed my ticket to the lady at the counter, and she added it to the queue. It only took minutes for the food to be ready since it was all pre-prepared. I was a little shocked when she handed me three bags. It was enough to feed at least four people. I had been completely zoned out as I filled in the ticket, I couldn’t even remember what I ordered. I knew Kat was going to give me a hard time over it for being a little extra. 

When I got back to the suite, I could hear the sound of the shower running. After setting the food down, I walked toward Kat’s room. She had left the doors to the bedroom and bathroom wide open. I smiled to myself knowing that she would never have done that before last night. As I got closer to the bathroom, I could hear her humming a tune to herself. Steam filled the room, fogging up the glass, but I could still make out her form as she ran her hands through her hair.  

“I’m back with food,” I called out to her. 

“Mmm, my hero. I’m starving. I’ll be out soon…almost done.”  

I sighed, “Don’t make noises like that or I’m liable to jump in there with you, clothes and all.”  

She giggled, “If we had time for it, I’d totally let you.”  

I groaned, “Don’t be a tease…” 

She scoffed, feigning offense, “I would never do such a thing.” 

“Somehow I doubt that…” I said through a chuckle as I turned to make my way to the dining table to unpack our breakfast. Kat came out to join me just as I was finishing up. She was wearing a bathrobe and towel drying her hair as she surveyed the spread.  

Her eyes widened as she let out a breathy laugh, “Dieter, what the hell?”  

I shrugged and plopped down in a chair with a smirk, “I didn’t realize how much food I was actually getting, OK? It just kind of happened…but to be fair, the portions they gave me are not for two people. I said two, not five.”   

She sat down beside me, shaking her head with a smirk as she piled food on a plate. We ate in silence, exchanging side-eyed glances and shy smiles. After I was finished, I slid my plate away and leaned back in the seat. Kat finished off her cup of coffee, then stood, coming to lean against the table in between my spread legs. 

“I guess we should talk about…us…make sure we’re on the same page.” 

My brows furrowed as my heart began to pound out of my chest. Does she not want this?   

“What do ya mean?” I asked nervously. 

She stepped forward, her hand gliding around my neck as she sat in my lap. Her eyes roamed my face, “I think…for now…we should keep this between us. I’m afraid Alec may try something if he finds out. There’s also Joe and Stacia…they wanted this to happen. I don’t want them to exploit it for the show. I refuse to let them. I want us to control the narrative.”   

I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding, “I can understand why you would want that…and I’m OK with it. I’ll follow your lead.” 

Her forehead pressed against mine as she smiled, “I was worried you’d be upset about it.” 

I shrugged and gave her a cheesy grin, “I mean, it’s not ideal…I’d really love it if everyone knew I was taken by an amazing woman...but I can wait until you’re ready. I’m yours no matter what.” 

My smile faded, “I’d like to avoid drama with Alec as well since we have to put up with him for a bit longer. I worry about what he might do too... As far as Stacia and Joe go, they can fuck right off. I’m not playing their games.”  

Her fingers twisted in my hair as she smiled at me, “Thank you for understanding. I do want everyone to know…eventually. I just want it to be on our terms. If it were to get out now, I feel like it would be chaos with all the hype around the show.”  

I nodded, “I don’t disagree with that. Stacia and Joe would make sure of it…and we have enough to worry about as it is.”  

She leaned in, giving me a quick kiss as I hugged her a little tighter against me. The moment was surreal, domesticated, and comforting. I wanted all of my mornings to like this, with her. My hand shifted to cup her cheek as her lips tugged upward, “You excited for tonight?” 

I sucked in a heavy breath, “Umm, yes and no. I’m nervous as fuck.”  

My fingers combed through her damp hair, “I’m happy you’re here with me though. I don’t know if I could’ve made it through this week without you.” 

I tilted my head forward, giving her a soft kiss before pulling away, “Speaking of, we need to get going or we’re gonna be late for dress rehearsals.”  

She shifted in my arms causing the front of her robe to fall open slightly, revealing the top curve of her breast. My hand dropped down so that my finger could tug the edge of it open a little more, pursing my lips as I playfully peaked inside, “We’re definitely gonna be late if you don’t go get dressed…like now.” 

She laughed loudly, jokingly pushing my head away as she stood. I smacked her ass as she turned to walk toward the bedroom. She yelped out laughter as she went.  

After much rushing around, we made it to Studio 8H just in time for dress rehearsals. Kat hung around to watch, seemingly amused every time I caught sight of her. When I had a free moment, I was at her side. We tried to act normally, but I’m not sure how much we succeeded. I couldn’t stop touching her. It wasn’t anything inappropriate, just small touches to her hand, arm, or lower back. I reasoned it wasn’t any different from what I would normally do. We were friends prior to this after all, and Kat didn’t seem to mind. The flirty smiles and intense stares were another story though. I had to watch myself with those.  

The dress rehearsals finished around 1 PM. We had some time to kill, so Kat and I decided to sneak out for lunch at a nearby Italian restaurant. I threw on a hat and sunglasses, joking that I was in disguise even though that shit never works. Kat of course had to snap a picture for Instagram and make a joke about it in her post. After I saw it, I reached under the table and squeezed just above her knee, nearly making her dissolve into a fit of laughter which drew some confused stares from the nearby tables.  

(More after the jump.)

After a long lunch, we made our way back to the studio so we could sit through hair and makeup. By the time that was done, we had a couple of hours before the first live audience show at 8 PM. Kat joined me in my dressing room and had the pleasure of watching me go through my pre-show warm-ups, which set her off into a giggling fit. The mouth stretches, tongue twisters, and lip trills in particular really got her going. Especially when I leaned in for a kiss and trilled against her mouth. She snorted out a laugh as she turned away from me, trying to contain her laughter.  

Goofing off with her helped settle my nerves, keeping me focused on her rather than the task that lay ahead. Just for fun, I sat down on the leather sofa and pulled her down to straddle my lap so that she was face-to-face with me. I coaxed her to try some of the warmups, both of us giggling through it like fools every time she messed up a tongue twister or tried and failed to trill her lips. She never said it, but I could sense that she was nervous too. I felt like the distraction helped her just as much as it did for me.  

Before we knew it, it was time to get dressed and make our way backstage for the first live audience show. I gave Kat a quick pep talk, before she disappeared to take her seat in the audience so she could roast me during my monologue. We nailed it, getting a good laugh from the audience. The rest of the show went as planned with no major fuck ups. 

The minute the live audience show was over, the cast and producers convened to discuss any needed adjustments for the live broadcast and decide on the final order of the skits in the event something needed to be cut for time. Overall, everyone seemed to be feeling good about the plans and how the first round went.  

Kat and I took a few minutes to chat and hang out with the cast. There were lots of other friends, family, and visitors milling around as there usually were before the live broadcast. The sight of one person in particular had me feeling anxious. Sophie West, an actress I had worked with several years ago, was across the room. Her eyes continuously searched for me as Kat and I socialized. I had never been interested in Sophie as anything other than an on-set hookup. It happened a few times after some late night cast parties, but once I realized she wanted more I avoided her like the plague.  

We had just finished a conversation with Judy when the tiny redhead approached from nowhere to get my attention.  

“Dieter, it’s so good to see you again! It’s been too long!”  

My hand instinctively slid around Kat’s waist and pulled her closer, I’m sure she could feel how tense I was.  

I nodded, “Sophie, nice to see you again.”  

Her eyes briefly dropped to my hand on Kat’s waist before meeting Kat’s gaze and reaching out to shake her hand, “And I’m sorry, I don’t know who you are. I’m Sophie, Dieter and I did a movie together a while back.” 

Kat’s brow arched. She didn’t look amused, “I’m Katarina, Dieter’s dance partner.”  

Sophie chuckled, “Oh that’s right, you're on that dance show.” She paused, smiling mischievously, “Dieter’s always been such a good dancer. We spent several late nights dancing at cast parties, among other things…”  

My eyes widened as I looked at Kat. I could see her jaw clench before she forced a fake smile and a polite laugh, “He is a good dancer, even better so now that I’ve spent many long days and nights helping him perfect his technique…” 

Her tone told me she wasn’t just talking about dancing in the literal sense. Fuck me. I didn’t see that coming. Kat’s not gonna take her shit. I had to bite back a laugh. 

Sophie didn’t look impressed as she turned her attention back to me, “So, Dieter, you wanna get together after the show to celebrate? Just like old times?” She asked with a suggestive tone. I wanted to crawl into a hole and die.  

“Sorry Soph, I don’t really do the party thing anymore. I’m sober. Also, Kat and I have a super early flight in the morning. So, we’ll be heading back to our hotel suite after the show.”  

Her mouth dropped open slightly as she looked between us and nodded, seeming to finally take the hint. “Well, I’m back in LA most of the time now. Call me. We can grab dinner and catch up.”  

Seriously? Give it up woman. I was beginning to get second-hand embarrassment for her. I gave her a tight-lipped smile and a curt nod before turning my attention to Kat, “You wanna go over our lines again? Looks like we have just enough time left to do that…” 

Kat took the hint, laying her hand on my chest and she leaned in with a smirk, “Yeah, let’s go to your dressing room so we can focus.”  

I could’ve kissed her right there in front of everyone, but refrained. That didn’t stop a heated look from passing between us though. Seeing her possessive side was making my dick twitch. Sophie seemed to get the hint at that point, awkwardly smiling before walking away.  

Kat snickered, “That was subtle.”  

I smiled sheepishly, “What do ya mean?”  

She scoffed, “Our hotel suite?”  

I laughed, “Oh, shush. You weren’t much better with that ‘perfecting his technique’ line. Besides, she wasn’t taking the hint. She’s been a little obsessed with me for years. I’m not tryin’ to give her mixed signals. Respectfully, she can fuck off.”  

Kat chuckled as we made our way to my dressing room to get away from the crowds. I needed to decompress before the live broadcast and didn’t want to chance any more run-ins with Sophie. I also just wanted to be alone with Kat.  

After we entered, I made sure to lock the door behind us, not wanting visitors. Kat plopped down on the sofa as I pulled my jeans off. She raised a questioning eyebrow as I sat down in front of the vanity. 

I snickered, “I’m hot…I’m sorry. Figured you would’ve noticed by now that I hate pants.”  

She stretched her legs out in front of her as she sunk back into the plush cushions, “Oh trust me, I’ve noticed.”  

I started doing some of my warmups again, I could hear Kat giggling behind me as she snapped a few pictures in the mirror, “I hope you’re enjoying yourself.”  

(More after the jump.)

She smiled as she tapped away on her phone, I assumed to post the pictures on Instagram, “Oh, I am. This has been an experience.” 

She dropped her phone down beside her, “I’m glad you asked me to come with you. I think we both needed this…to get away from LA and everything that comes with it.”  

I turned to face her, “Do you think this would have happened between us if we hadn't come here?”  

She thought for a moment, “Yes, I think it would’ve…but maybe not as soon?”  

I smiled, “Thank god you agreed to come…or else I may have spontaneously combusted if I had to wait for you much longer.”  

There was a knock on the door followed by the voice of one of the producers, “Dieter…just a heads up…we need you guys ready to go and backstage in 30.”  

I sighed before yelling back “We’ll be there.” 

My eyes met Kat’s, “You ready to do this on a live broadcast?”  

She groaned, “Why did you remind me?” 

Minutes later, I began getting dressed in my monologue attire. Kat wasn’t a fan of the bright yellow pants, but she didn’t seem to mind the blue blazer with nothing underneath it. I noticed how her eyes kept drifting down to the exposed skin of my neck and chest. 

As I stood in front of the vanity, fiddling with my hair, Kat approached and squeezed into the space between me and the countertop. She leaned forward, applying more lipstick as she pressed her ass against my dick, slightly swaying her hips from side to side as her eyes met mine in the mirror. My hands sought out the globes of her ass to pause her movements, “Are you tryin’ to get me hard before I go on live TV?” She feigned a look of innocence. I laughed, “You’re a fucking menace…which I did not expect.” 

I reached down to the hem of her dress, running my hand up the inside of her thigh, but she smacked it away, “No sir. You can have me after the show…when we go back to our hotel suite.” She paused, then wiggled her ass again, “I wanna take my time with you.”  

I groaned, then away from her as I muttered, “Fucking tease.” 

She turned to face me with a playful glint in her eye as she booped my nose, “You have no idea, Bravo.”  

Before we knew it, we were making our way backstage. Our nerves seemed a lot worse this time, knowing it was a live broadcast in addition to the live audience. Kat and I stood facing each other as I grabbed her hands and playfully shook her arms, “Loosen up, Kit Kat. You’ve got this. We’re gonna be hilarious! The people love us!”  

She laughed as I pulled her in for a tight hug and leaned in next to her ear, “Just think of me naked and you’ll forget all about the nerves.”  

She laughed louder this time, “Yeah, that’s probably not a good idea. Though, your lack of a shirt definitely makes that easier to do.”  

I winked at her, “Good, that means my plan is working.”  

A production assistant approached us, “Kat, it’s time for you to take your seat.”  

She nodded and smiled at me as she gave my hand a squeeze, “Good luck, Bravo.”  

I took my place behind the double doors that led to the stage. At exactly 11:29 PM the weekend update skit began, then the first note was played by the house band as the announcer went through the opening credits. I took this time to shake off my nerves to the beat of the music until my name was called to take center stage for the monologue. I just needed to keep my shit together and focus for the next 92 minutes.  

I went through the usual spiel of welcoming everyone to the show and promising an excellent lineup. Then it was my time to shine in endless self-deprecating humor.  

“I’m Dieter Bravo, I’ll be your host for tonight. Some of you may recognize me from my endless tabloid drama, rumors of on-set chaos, or the completely unhinged interviews I’ve done in the past. For the movie buffs, you may know me from my Oscar winning role in Hunger Strike. I know, it was a while ago…but I’m still an Oscar winner…so suck it, Darren Eigen.” (Darren Eigen is the Director for Cliff Beasts 6) 

That got a good laugh from the audience. I paused briefly allowing them to settle, then clapped my hands together to draw back their attention. 

“Speaking of Darren…my most recent movie role was in Cliff Beast 6, but I doubt any of you have seen me in it because…well…no one watched it.” 

Quiet laughter followed as a voice from the audience interrupted me, “You definitely didn’t win an Oscar for that performance!”  

My brow furrowed as I played along, “Excuse me?”  

A spotlight dropped down on Kat as she stood from her seat which triggered whoops and whistles from the audience, “I said, you definitely didn’t win an Oscar for that. It’s the worst thing I’ve ever seen. That’s two hours of my life I would love to have back. I can’t believe you would even admit to being in that atrocity.”  

I laughed nervously, “Kat, what’re you doing? I said you could come watch, not provide commentary. You do that enough during dance rehearsals.”  

She shrugged. “Sorry, it’s a habit. I’ll try to behave.”  

I nodded, giving her a look of annoyance, “Sorry about that everyone. That’s my dance partner…which brings me to my current project…I’m participating on a little show called Dancing with the Stars. You heard of it?”  

More appreciation sounded from the audience. I nodded along with a smile, waiting for them to settle. “You know, I’ll admit, I was nervous about that one. I’m not exactly a spry young thing anymore, but I like to think I’ve always been a decent dancer. I was pretty excited to hear my partner say that I had loose hips, which would serve me well in the Latin dances. I guess my mind-blowing thrust game finally paid off for something…if you know what I mean, ladies.” I shot a cocky grin and wink toward the camera.  

Kat scoffed and cut in, “Don’t get too excited ladies…he may have loose hips, but he has no rhythm.”  

The audience lost it. Kat was looking pretty smug over her remark. I chewed on the inside of my cheek, fighting a smile as I waved the comment off. In a split second I decided to get her back for teasing me earlier. My eyes narrowed on her, my voice taking on a suggestive tone, “Now sweetheart, you know that’s not true.”  

That wasn’t the line she was expecting. Her eyes widened as gasps, whoops, and catcalls sounded through the audience. She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth as she shifted in place where she was standing. I was almost certain she was pressing her thighs together under that flowy dress. I held up my hands, shushing the audience, “Hold on now, get your minds outta the gutter. I’m talking about dancing here…you bunch of pervs. Geez Louise.” 

That got another good laugh out of them as Kat narrowed her eyes at me. I made it through the last bit of the monologue with perfect timing and delivery. The show seemed to be starting off perfectly. 

The Dirty Dancing skit went over well. The final product had turned out more hilarious than we originally expected. I managed to keep it together through most of the live skits, only breaking once. Overall, I felt like the show had been a success as I ran out to do the closing credits. Kat was at my side, my fingers laced with hers as I said my ‘thank yous’ to the cast and crew for inviting me to host.  

I let go of her hand and pulled her into my side, “Special thanks to my Kit Kat for suffering through this week with me! This wouldn’t have been possible without her.”  

I glanced down to see her face flush, then wrapped things up. The cast began mingling and hugging as they often did while the credits rolled. I pulled Kat in against me as she wrapped her arms around my neck, “Dieter, you were amazing.”  

I chuckled against her ear, “Yeah? Did I get you all hot and bothered, sweetheart?”  

She pulled back, peering up at me through her lashes with a smirk. She nodded. “Yeah?” I asked with amusement. She nodded again. I leaned back down next to her ear, “Do you wanna have sex with me?”  

She chuckled, “Why don’t you take me back to the hotel and find out.”  

Little Bravo stood to attention as I let out a breathy laugh, “Fucking hell, woman.”  

We were interrupted by Judy who ran over to hug us both. The rest of the cast and crew soon followed. We hung around for as long as we felt was socially acceptable before giving the excuse of our early flight and headed out.  

The sexual tension during the ride back to the hotel was stifling. We were trying our best to behave, but that didn’t stop us from sitting close together and sharing teasing touches while avoiding eye contact. Kat rested her hand on my thigh, slowly inching it higher with gentle caresses. I captured her hand with mine, causing her eyes to cut in my direction and narrow as I tried not to smirk. After flipping her palm upward, I set it on my leg to lightly rub up the inside of her wrist with my fingertips. I could feel her skin breaking out in goosebumps as she pressed her thighs together. She turned toward the window, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth as she let out a controlled breath through her nose. I could tell she was getting worked up. It was too easy to read her now.  

Once back at the hotel, we entered the elevator. A small group followed us in, crowding us into a back corner. Kat took it upon herself to stand in front of me, pressing her ass into my groin as she leaned back against me. My hands gripped her hips, pulling her tighter against my hardness as we waited to reach our floor. We were the last ones left after a couple of stops. As soon as the door closed behind the last of the exiting occupants, my palm slid up the back of her neck, lifting her hair out of the way to place open mouthed kisses along the newly exposed skin.  

“Mmm, you’re playing dirty now,” she purred.  

My lips moved toward the curve of her ear, chuckling quietly as I sucked on the lobe. She melted into my embrace just as the elevator doors dinged open. She moved to exit, my hands reaching for her hips as I stumbled along behind her. She was fighting a smile, pretending to ignore me as she keyed in. She peered at me over her shoulder, giving me a sly smirk as she removed her jacket and walked toward her room. I took the hint, following behind her like the lovesick puppy that I was. She moved to stand in front of the dresser mirror, removing her earrings as I approached her from behind, pulling her against my chest and nuzzling my nose into her neck. I didn’t hesitate to deeply inhale her scent, not even caring if she knew what I was doing. It was like a drug to me now, causing me to salivate at the thought of tasting her again. 

Our gazes connected in the mirror as my lips trailed up to her jaw. Kat suddenly turned, her mouth crashing against mine for a deep sensual kiss as she worked to remove my boxers and jeans. We broke apart only long enough for me to kick them off. Her hands found their way to my chest, pushing me backwards onto the bed. She stood between my spread thighs, smiling down at me as her fingers ran through the top of my hair. My hands found the hem of her dress, sliding under and up to grab at her ass. I arched a brow as my eyes shifted upward to meet hers when my fingers were not met with any fabric. Her smile widened. 

I chuckled quietly and shook my head, “I can already tell, you’re gonna drive me insane, aren’t ya sweetheart?”  

She moved closer, lifting her legs to straddle my lap. Both of my hands slid up her bare thighs to grip her ass and pull her closer. Our noses nudged together as she rolled her hips against my hardness, “You have no idea what I’m about to do to you, Bravo.”  

My forehead fell forward against hers. I couldn’t help the whimper that slipped out. Her assertive confidence was so fucking hot I could have blown my load right then. Her tongue darted out, lightly licking up the center of my mouth before sucking on my bottom lip as her right hand snaked downward between us, cupping and gently squeezing my balls before rolling her fingertips in a wave like motion. My head dropped backwards, mouth falling open with a low groan at the sensation. That’s definitely something new. My head lulled forward, blurry eyes taking in the look on her face. Her eyelids were heavy, teeth biting into her bottom lip as she fought a smile. I could tell she was on a mission to completely wreck me, and it was working.  

Her brow arched slightly. “You like that?” she asked in a teasing tone.  

“Mmhmm,” I managed to hum out as I shook my head.  

She leaned in and smiled against my lips as she began to rock her hips, still managing to massage my balls as her slick center slid backward and forward over my fully erect cock. My eyes nearly rolled back into my head as the tip repeatedly grazed her entrance with each movement.  

My head tipped forward to lean against her shoulder as a low “Fuuuuuck” slipped out of my mouth.  

Kat let out a quiet snicker, “You like that too?” 

Her voice sounded sultry in a way I had never heard it. I somehow managed to whine out an incoherent sound in response, not even sure what I was actually attempting to say. Her free hand moved to the back of my head, tangling her fingers in my hair to pull it upward, tilting it so that her lips found my ear, sucking on the lobe briefly before whispering, “You gonna be a good boy and let me have my way with you tonight?” 

My fingers gripped her ass tighter, causing the rocking of her hips to cease. I was so close to losing it before we had even gotten started. I needed her to slow down. She was pushing my buttons in new ways that I was nowhere near prepared for and I was about to lose my fucking mind. She was invading all of my senses - her touch, the taste of her skin, her fruity scent, the sultry sound of her voice, her words, the feel of her hot breath and wet cunt all overstimulating me like never before. I could tell she was enjoying herself from the way she had completely drenched my dick with her slick, which definitely wasn’t helping the situation. I took a deep centering breath and let it out slowly as she pulled back to look at me with arched brows and a smile.  

I somehow managed to sputter out, “You can have me any way you want me, honey.”  

A mischievous grin slid across her face, her hands resting on my shoulders for support as she shifted to stand between my thighs. Her hands reached down to pull my shirt over my head before she leaned in to kiss me deeply as she sank to her knees in front of me. Her hands got back to work, one around my cock while the other resumed the thing she had been doing with my balls. She leaned down, licking up the underside of the head before taking the tip in her mouth and sucking. Of fuuuuck, she’s gonna be the end of me. 

I leaned backward, placing my hands on the bed behind me for support. My eyes slid shut from pleasure as my head dropped back between my shoulder blades. I couldn’t look at her. I knew the sight of it would be too much and cause me to fall over the edge. It was taking everything in me to fight off my impending orgasm as it was. I could feel that familiar tingling sensation creeping up at the base of my spine as my core muscles tightened. My breathing elevated as a sheen of sweat broke out over my entire body. I didn’t even try to fight the whimpering moans slipping out between my lips as she worked me over with her mouth. I somehow managed to crack my eyes open, only to be met with our reflections in the metallic ceiling tiles. I looked completely wrecked already. My focus shifted to Kat’s head bobbing between my thighs, and I nearly lost it. My right hand reached down, gently caressing her hair to get her to stop. She pulled away, peering up at me with wide eyes through her lashes. 

“Sweetheart, you’re about to make me lose it before I’ve even had you.”  

A rather smug smile formed on her lips as she moved to stand up on her knees and wrap her arms around my neck, kissing me gently. 

“Tell me what you like. How do you want me?” she asked against my lips in a velvety voice. She was so fucking sexy and she wasn’t even really trying.  

I gave her a small smile and chuckled, “I’m not very hard to please. Your mere existence is enough to send me over the edge these days.”  

She arched her brow, “That’s not very helpful.”  

I was feeling a little hesitant with her, sexually. I had a history of being adventurous in that aspect of my life, but something told me that wasn’t the case for her. It wasn't something that I needed to be satisfied. I was perfectly content going at her pace and letting her lead things. However, she seemed to sense my hesitancy.  

Her eyes softened as she reached up to run her fingers through the hair at my temple, “I trust you, ya know. You make me feel…differently…when it comes to this. I know you’ll respect me. I want us to be able to communicate openly about what we’re feeling…and wanting. I’ve never felt safe enough to be like that with anyone until now.”  

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding as my hands moved to her hips and pulled her closer to me. A smile crept across my face as I studied her eyes. She looked determined. I could tell she meant every word she said which caused a warmth to spread over my entire body. I suddenly felt the need to lay myself open bare so she could take anything she wanted. If I hadn't already known that I was completely in love with her, it would have hit me like a ton of bricks at that moment. She was being open and vulnerable with me, and suddenly I was no longer afraid to do the same.  

“I don’t think anyone has ever asked me what I wanted…” I leaned forward, nuzzling my nose against her, debating on how far I should take things - how much I wanted to say.  

“Truth be told…the only answer I can give…is you. I only want you…as much as you’re willing to give me…and I want you to have all of me. I’m yours.” 

The air felt thick around us as she considered my words. I wasn’t just talking about sex. She owned every part of my being, and I wanted her to understand that. I wanted to tell her everything, but it was too soon. This was my way of saying it without actually saying it.  

I felt her grip tighten in my hair as she closed the distance between us. The need between us intensified as our tongues tangled together and hands explored each other. Her mouth drifted down my jaw, teeth biting at the scruff before moving upward. That action alone had my dick at full attention and weeping for her.  

“Have you been thinking about me when you’re alone?” Kat asked quietly into the shell of my ear.  

I sighed, “Mmhmm.” I couldn’t help squirming against her abdomen for some type of friction against my raging hard-on as she licked up my neck. She murmured quietly, “What do you think about?” before tugging the lobe of my ear between her teeth.  

I whimpered, struggling for a coherent thought as her fingers danced over my chest. My hands found the globes of her ass, squeezing to pull her tighter against me.  

She nipped at my neck, “Answer me, Dieter.”  

Seeing this side of her had my head spinning, I wanted more. My hands trailed up and down her sides as her lips continued to explore my jaw. I sputtered out a response, “I think about your body…and the way it moves…especially your hips…the control that you have over every muscle…the control that you have over…me.”  

She pulled away, eyes meeting mine with a mischievous glint in them, “What else?”  

I suddenly felt shy under her gaze. I couldn’t recall ever sharing these types of desires with anyone before. I was terrified she would be bothered by the way I had been thinking about her. Her hand moved to cup my face, “Tell me.”  

“I tried to imagine what it would be like to have you moving the way you do on top of me…how it would feel…what sort of sounds you would make...” 

She smirked, placing a chaste kiss on my lips before whispering, “Then let's find out. Lay on the bed for me.”  

She pulled away to stand. I sat there a little dumbfounded with my mouth gaping open. It wasn’t like it was a crazy ask, but the thought of my fantasy coming to life nearly had me coming without even being touched.  

Kat paused in front of me, staring with raised brows and her hands on her hips. Once my senses finally came back to me and I was sure I wasn't going to blow my load, I scrambled up to lay in the center of the bed. She chuckled, turning her back to me as she unzipped her dress. My hand involuntarily made its way down to stroke my cock as I watched her slide the straps off her shoulders. Her head turned so that she could glance at me over her shoulder, “I don’t remember telling you that you could touch yourself.”  

I let out a nervous laugh, sliding my hands down to rest on either side of my hips while I waited for her. I was so fucking turned on by the way she was taking charge. She seemed to understand what I needed better than I did.  

I watched as her dress slid down her body and pooled around her feet, revealing her to me. She hadn’t worn anything underneath it which only further spurred my need. My entire body was aching for her by this point.  

She slowly crawled up the bed, trailing gentle touches and kisses along the way. Allowing her hair to lightly graze over my skin, sending shivers up my body. As she straddled my hips, she ran her hands up my chest, then drug her nails downward. With her bottom lip tucked between her teeth, she began to rotate her hips, rubbing her wet center against my hardness. My breath caught in my throat as she peered down at me with darkened eyes. She was so fucking beautiful like this that it had me frozen in place. My hands were still at my sides, fisting the sheets.  

Her hand slid up the center of my chest then grasped firmly under my jaw, angling my face toward her as she leaned down to place an opened mouthed kiss on my lips before asking, “You wanna know what I think about when I’m alone?” All I could muster in response to her honeyed voice was a small nod as I looked up at her with wide eyes. I was completely dumb struck by her while also trying to focus on not coming all over myself. 

That mischievous smirk was back on her face as she sat upright. Her hands moved to trace a path along her neck and breast as her body began slow undulations above me - her center absolutely drenching me with every twist of her hips. It had to be the sexiest thing I had ever laid eyes on. 

She began to massage her breast, her smirk fading to a more sensual look as she continued, “I wondered what your hands would feel like gliding across my skin. I tried to pretend my hands were yours as I touched myself…but it was never satisfying enough.”  

Her hands dropped down to mine, loosening their grip on the sheets and lifting them to guide their movements across her body. I was completely mesmerized by the sight as she let out a soft moan. “Definitely doesn’t compare to the real thing,” she added in a whisper.  

Kat continued writhing on top of me as she showed me the way she liked to be touched, adding pressure to the tops of my hands and guiding them to knead her flesh in certain areas. The intimacy of the moment was almost overwhelming. I had never experienced anything like this. The trust she had in me to share this side of herself was causing me to feel emotions that were almost foreign.  

She released my hands, allowing them to explore on their own as she briefly rose up on her knees, notching my throbbing head at her entrance and slowly sinking down to the hilt. My jaw fell slack as her wet heat enveloped me. I felt like my chest was going to explode as my eyes pooled with tears from the pure ecstasy I was feeling. I had to bite my bottom lip to keep from professing my deepest feelings for her. I couldn’t tell her that I was in love with her. It was still too soon for that, but I felt it just the same.  

My hands gripped her hips as she leaned back to support herself on my thighs and began agonizingly slow movements, rolling her torso and hips as she rode me with abandon - giving me a show and the most amazing pleasure I had ever felt. I should have been embarrassed by the sounds I was making. It was guttural groans mixed with pathetic whimpers and near sobs as I fought the urge to come. Her soft hums of pleasure and intense gaze definitely didn’t help my situation any.  

She must have sensed my impending release, slowing her movements to lean forward and plant her hands on my chest for support to give me some time to come back from the edge. My spine tingled and cock throbbed inside of her as I let out a steady chant of curse words trying to focus on anything but the goddess sitting on top of me. I stared at the mirrored ceiling, realizing how absolutely wrecked I looked. She chuckled, gently rubbing her hands over my chest as she took in my fucked out expression.  

After a few deep breaths, my eyes shifted back to her. Her body looked dewy with sweat and flushed with arousal as she stared down at me. The sight of her had my balls aching for release. I couldn’t help the lazy grin that spread across my face as I reached up to cup her cheek, “You’re so fucking beautiful and perfect.”  

She leaned into my touch, smiling at the praise.  

“You’ve absolutely wrecked me, sweetheart. I don’t know how much longer I can last seeing you like this. I need you to come…I need to see it…to feel it. Use me, fucking destroy me, and put me out of my misery. Please.”  

Her smile widened, “Be careful what you wish for, Bravo.”  

Leaning on my chest, she began to slowly lift herself until only the head remained inside of her. Her cunt clenching as she did so, squeezing me so fucking tight as she rolled her hips. After relaxing, she quickly sunk back down to the hilt, only to repeat the movements - over and over again. It was a new sensation that I thought might actually end me where I lay.  

Each time she clenched around me, it took everything I had not to explode. My head sunk back into the pillow as I slammed my eyes shut, trying to focus on anything but the way she felt. My jaw clenched as I fought to control my heaving breaths and the urge to rut into her. I was absolutely unraveling underneath her control, and she loved every second of it. My grip on her hips tightened, stilling her movements. I could feel the sweat trickling down my face as my mouth fell open, gasping for air. I couldn’t look at her, because if I did, I was done.  

Kat’s fingers trailed down my chest. “You doing ok?” she asked innocently. 

I nodded, still panting, “Yep…just need…a minute.”  

I could feel her eyes on me. Her tone told me she had a satisfied grin on her face as she watched me try to keep it together for her. After calming down some, I tilted my head to look at her. Our gazes locked as I guided her hips to rock against me, “I need for you to come. Please.”  

My voice was pleading. I really couldn’t hold on much longer and she knew it. She began grinding against me, her clit rubbing against the wiry hair at the base of my cock. It didn’t take long before I felt her walls fluttering around me, her release slowly building. Her eyes never left mine as her body began to tremble before finally tensing. As her mouth fell open, I sat up, pulling her to me with one arm while bracing myself with the other on the mattress behind me, allowing me to snap my hips up into hers. She collapsed with muffled moans against my neck as I drew out her release and finally crashed over the edge with her. A low growl ripped from my chest as I came hard inside of her. The growl turned to whimpers as my body began to shake from the release. I fell backward to the bed pulling her to lay against my chest, not saying a word for a while as we tried to settle our breathing and heart rates.  

After a few minutes passed, my arms snaked around her waist so that I could shift us both to our sides. I made a point to pull her closer against me, making sure she knew that I was here for her. Something about that moment felt vulnerable. Not just for me, but for her too. Neither of us were used to having this after. For the first time, it really hit me how much I had been craving her intimacy. Not just taking but giving too.  

My face nuzzled against the top of her hair, inhaling her scent as my hand trailed up and down her body. She hugged me a little tighter and sighed contentedly against my neck. 

I massaged at her hip, “Everything feeling ok? You didn’t overdo it I hope.”  

She chuckled, tilting her head back to look at me, “I’m good. Are you?”  

A dopy lopsided grin spread across my face as I reached to rub my fingertips along the curve of her jaw, “I am now…I don’t think you realize the effect you have on me. I’ve never experienced anything like this…like you.” 

Her cheeks reddened at my words as she tried to bury her face against the pillow. I snickered, “Don’t go getting shy on me now, because I know that’s a lie…you little sex kitten.”  

Her eyes widened at the comment as I took a moment to realize what I had actually said, “Oooooh, looks like you’ve got a new nickname…and you’ve earned this one.”  

She snorted, “Fucking hell, I guess I did walk into that one.” 

I leaned down with a mischievous smile and pressed my forehead against hers, “Don’t worry, it’ll be our little secret. I’ll only call you that when I’m horny.”  

She laughed, “That’s all the time.”  

I scoffed, “It is not. How would you know?”  

Her fingers combed through my hair, “I’ve learned to read you like an open book this week.”  

My nose grazed along hers, “It’s not all the time, but you do have a way of driving me insane without even trying. I mean it, you’ve ruined me for anyone else. I crave you…your presence…your touch. I’d be eternally happy only having those things. The mind blowing sex is just a bonus.”  

She smiled against my lips before wrapping her leg around mine and kissing me. We went on like that for a few minutes until she finally pulled away with a sigh. 

My brows furrowed, “What’s wrong?”  

She rolled her eyes and huffed dramatically, “I really need to pee, but I don’t wanna leave you.”  

I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. I felt like my heart was going to explode over her words.  

“I’m not going anywhere. Go…then we can get ready for bed.” 

She groaned and rolled out of the bed, shivering slightly as she stood. She grabbed a robe that was thrown over a chair in the corner and put it on as she walked toward the bathroom. I too got up and threw on my underwear. After running to my room to get my toothbrush, I grabbed two bottles of water out of the fridge. Kat was coming out of the bathroom just as I came back into the bedroom. She smiled as I offered her a bottle of water, leaning in to murmur a quiet “thank you” against my lips before giving me a chaste kiss. She took a long drink before digging around in her makeup bag and pulling out a hair tie.  

I gave her ass a little pat as I moved to the bathroom and began brushing my teeth. She followed to do the same. It was an odd feeling to share the space with her while doing such a mundane task. I couldn’t really recall ever having brushed my teeth or gone through my bedtime routine with someone, let alone someone I had just had sex with. It was domestic and intimate in a strange sort of way. I found myself wanting more experiences like this with her.  

I realized she was eyeing me in the mirror with a smirk. After spitting out a glob of toothpaste, her eyebrow arched, “What are you thinking so hard about?” Busted. 

I shrugged, then spit. “I was just thinking…I’ve never done this with someone before.”  

Her lips tugged upward, “What, brushed your teeth?”  

I shook my head, “I’ve never gotten ready for bed with anyone. It feels…I dunno. I can’t really put it into words.” I want this every night for the rest of my life. 

Her brows furrowed before she turned to rinse out her mouth. When she was finished, she peered at me with a soft gaze.  

“It’s a good feeling though…right?” she asked.  

I nodded, “Definitely.”  

Her hand rose to rest on my chest, right on top of my fluttering heart. My hand instinctively moved to rest atop hers.  

“Are you ok? Your heart is racing.” That explains the light headed feeling.  

I swallowed thickly, then gave her a weak smile, “Yeah, I’m good. Just excited to be in your presence I guess.” I fucking love you.  

She gave me a skeptical look as she turned to pick up her brush and comb it through her hair. Then, I watched her fingers work the long strands into a simple braid down her back, causing me to randomly have an urge to learn how to do that. She seemed to enjoy when I had fixed her hair earlier in the week, and oddly enough, it made me feel closer to her. I wanted more. You’re down bad, Bravo. So fucking bad. 

My fingers reached for the braid and rubbed it between my fingertips. I smirked at the thought of being able to do that for her.  

“Do you usually braid your hair for bed?” I asked. 

She shrugged, “A lot of the time…or just a messy bun on top of my head, but that usually doesn’t end well the next morning.” 

She pulled a makeup remover wipe from a package sitting on the sink and began wiping her face. I watched her for a beat, still soaking in her nighttime routine. I was fascinated by it for some reason. Her eyes caught mine in the mirror and she smiled. I leaned in and placed a kiss on the top of her head, “I’m gonna go attempt to fix the bed. I think I pulled the sheet off.”  

She laughed, letting her free hand grope my ass as I walked out the doorway.  

“Better watch that or else you might not get any sleep tonight, Kitten.” 

I could hear her muttering something to herself as I moved toward the bed. I couldn’t help snickering because I knew it was over her new nickname.  

I began pulling the pillows off the bed so that I could put the top half of the sheet back on the mattress properly. When I pulled up the pillow on the far side, it revealed something purple wedged between the mattress and headboard that caught my attention. I crawled across the bed to grab it. I nearly snorted when I realized what it was. Then it hit me, she definitely wasn’t doing yoga yesterday morning. I fucking knew it. Was she thinking about me then? I felt my dick twitch and had to change my train of thought.  

I scrambled to finish making the bed, then sat on the edge waiting for her to finish up in the bathroom. I was curious how she would react to me finding it.  

As soon as she walked into the bedroom, she paused. Her eyes caught sight of the purple happy stick in my hand almost immediately. My brows arched up at her as I fought a smile.  

“Where did you find that?” she asked nervously. 

I tried not to laugh, “Under your pillow.”  

She looked horrified, “And you just picked it up without knowing whose it was or if it’s clean?”  

I shrugged, “I mean, it looks clean. I just assumed it was yours.”  

She shook her head as her cheeks tinged red, “Nope. Don’t know where that came from.”  

I clicked my tongue, “So, you’re telling me you’ve been sleeping with someone else's vibrator under your pillow all week and didn’t notice?”  

She stared at me with wide eyes, seeming unable to respond.  

“It’s ok, I know you were not doing yoga yesterday…If it makes you feel better, I beat off in the shower before I went and got us breakfast.”  

I tried my best to keep a serious face as she fought a smile. I knew that would get her.  

“It doesn’t bother you…that I have one of those?” she asked quietly.  

My brows furrowed, “Of course not…why would it? Hell, I have a few myself.”  

I could see the tension leave her body, now realizing for the first time that she thought I would be upset over it. That fucking asshole.  

“It’s just that Alec was weird about it…said it created unreasonable expectations…and that it was probably the reason I had trouble having an orgasm with him. When in reality it was just him apparently, because I definitely do not have that issue with you.”  

A goofy grin slid across my face. I liked the fact that I could get her off when he couldn’t. I motioned for her to come sit on my lap, she acquiesced, wrapping one arm around my neck as she did. I reached to cup her face as I spoke.  

“That guy was a fucking idiot. They’re meant to be a friend, not an enemy… to enhance the experience for both parties. Sex is about giving pleasure just as much as receiving it, how you get there shouldn’t matter.” 

Her fingers found their way to my hair as I leaned in, resting my head against hers, “Obviously what he failed to realize is that you get what you give. For me, I get just as much pleasure out of being the reason that you come undone as I do from sex itself…and ultimately the sex is better because of that. If you need a little extra help to get off, so be it. Everyone is wired differently and has different needs, but he obviously missed that memo.”  

Kat sighed quietly, then smiled as her fingers twisted tighter around the strands she was gripping, “Where’ve you been all my life, Dieter Bravo?” 

My stomach felt like it was doing flips from the way she was looking at me. She was literally taking my breath away. After closing the distance between us, I kissed her deeply. Trying to convey the depth of my feelings for her without words. I kept it brief, soon breaking away to meet her gaze with a smirk, “I’ve been waitin’ for you to find me, honey.”  

It wasn’t a lie. I really had been stuck in an endless cycle of self-sabotage, waiting for a lifeline - a reason to get it together and figure my life out. I only needed to put in the work to meet her halfway and prove that I was trying.  

Her tinkling laugh caused my heart to race as she leaned in to capture my lips with hers. She was so fucking perfect. At that moment I knew I would do anything to make her happy and keep her in my life, including staying sober.  

With a groan, I pulled away, “I think I need to get you to bed. We have to be up ridiculously early for our flight.” 

She puffed air out of her cheeks in annoyance, “Fine. If you insist on being responsible and getting some sleep…” 

She stood from my lap, untied the robe, and dropped it to the floor with a sly grin before crawling under the covers. My head slumped downward, chin to chest, as I squeezed my eyes shut in an attempt to ignore the arousal the sight of her naked body had caused. She already knew how to push my buttons in ways no one else did.  

Once she was settled, I stood, moving to the opposite side of the bed before setting the vibrator on the nightstand and stripping off my boxer-briefs. I climbed into bed behind her, not hesitating to reach out and pull her against my chest, burying my face in the top of her hair to take in her citrus scent.  

Within minutes, her breathing shifted to deep, steady breaths. It was a testament to how tired she was, but she would never admit to it. I laid there for a time, in the dark, surrounded by the scent of her…of us. For the first time, maybe ever, I felt content. It was a foreign feeling, but I could definitely get used to it.  

As her body heat sunk into the depths of my soul, I dared to imagine what it would be like to go to bed with her every night and wake up together every morning. The strong desire for it took me off guard. Then the images in my mind shifted slightly to include a sparkling ring set on her left hand and a simple band on mine. This was another first. I had never considered giving myself to someone like that, but now I longed for it. I knew she was it for me and I wanted it more than anything, but I knew it was still too soon. It was too soon for the both of us. I still had shit from my past to work through before going there and she probably did too. I didn’t want to rush this. It needed to be nurtured and grow organically. I couldn’t let my impulsiveness get in the way. 

With a soft sigh, my eyes finally slid closed. It didn’t take long for me to drift off with Kat wrapped up in my embrace. 

Hours later, I awoke to Kat wiggling her ass against me. After squinting one eye open, I could see that it was nearing 5:30. I groaned, tightening my arms around her. 

“Is there a reason you’re squirming?” I asked gruffly. 

I could hear the smile in her sleep filled voice, “I can’t sleep.”  

I sighed, trying with massive effort to ignore the morning wood she kept rubbing her bare ass against, “We don’t have to be up for another hour.”  

I felt her hand slowly sneak down between us, her fingers wrapping around the hard length of my dick as I hissed through my teeth. 

“You better be prepared to do something about that if you insist on waking him up.”  

She let out a deep throaty chuckle, “I told you, I can’t sleep.”  

She released me, her hand trailing up to mine, guiding it between her thighs. She was already soaking wet. It was my turn to chuckle as I leaned down peppering kisses along her neck and jaw, my fingers gently spreading her slick over the sensitive bundle of nerves that was already throbbing. 

“It looks like my little sex kitten wants to come out and play.” My fingers slightly increased pressure as they danced around her clit. “Is that what you want sweetheart? You need me to play with you?” 

A soft moan escaped her as she nodded. Her teeth biting into her bottom lip as she tried to hold in her sounds, failing miserably.  

“Look at you, already being a good girl and purring for me.” 

She let out a breathy laugh, “You’re so fucking ridiculous.”  

My fingers slipped lower to her entrance, teasing. “I know, but I think you kind of like it.”  

She shook her head in disagreement as I easily slipped two fingers inside of her, curling them against just the right spot and causing her to shiver as she began to grind against my hand. Small sounds still escaped her no matter how hard she tried to hold them back. Her eyes slid shut as she got lost in the feeling. 

I licked up her neck, stopping to allow my lips to graze the shell of her ear as I echoed the words she said to me the previous night, “You gonna be a good girl and let me have my way with you this morning? It’s only fair.” 

She smirked, turning to peer up at me through her lashes. It was enough to make my dick jump against her. Her smile widened as she arched back against me ever so slightly. I fought a smile, shaking my head in disapproval as I withdrew my hand from her wet heat. She let out a whiny groan as I turned toward the nightstand, grabbing her vibrator. She may have spent the previous evening edging me within an inch of my life, but I was determined to spend the next hour making her come over and over again until she was a quivering mess of tears from the pleasure.  

I turned back toward her, tucking one arm underneath her torso and pulling her tightly against my chest. She giggled, dropping her head down against the pillow allowing me access to her neck. I wasted no time leaning down to place open mouthed kisses along her collarbone, clicking the vibrator on with my free hand to drag it against her nipple. She gasped at the unexpected sensation, knotting her fingers in my hair as I moved it to the other side. My nose trailed along her slack jaw as her breaths began to come out in soft pants against my face.  

My lips found her ear again, “Show me how you like it.” 

Her eyes met mine. She seemed almost hesitant at first, but eventually reached for the hand holding the vibrator, leading it downward between her thighs. She held my gaze as she guided the tip up the center of her slit, then proceeded to move it in tight circles over the small nub. She let out a heavy sigh, melting into me as her eyes drooped and her hips moved in time with our hands. Tremors ran through her body, each one becoming more intense as she got closer to the edge.  

My gaze never left her face, watching as her brows pinched together and her teeth dug into her bottom lip. It was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. She struggled to hold her eyes open, determined to keep them on mine. I could feel her stomach muscles tightening under my arm as she arched into it, her breathing becoming heavier as she let out quiet whimpers. Her hand gripped my wrist firmly as I quickened my motions. She fell over the edge with a with a deep groan.  

I chuckled, “You’re being such a good girl for me...coming already. Let’s see how many times I can make that happen before the alarm goes off.”  

I turned the vibrator off as she lay there with her eyes closed, panting. I didn’t stop my movements. Instead, continuing to gently stroke up and down her center with the slightly curved head, spreading her slick and dipping it into her opening ever so often. I noticed her hips bucking upward just a fraction, seeming to crave more.  

“Show me what else you like,” I whispered into her ear.  

She swallowed thickly as she looked up at me, sliding her leg upward then lifting it over the top of my thigh, giving me better access to her dripping cunt. I smirked down at her as she shifted to grind her backside against me a little more, her hand dropping down to guide the vibrator to her entrance. She inserted it a few inches, the curved tip angled slightly toward the front. Her eyes clenched shut as she began to move it in and out - slowly. Always at the same angle and always just a few inches, stimulating that elusive spot inside. Her hand released mine once I got the motion down, allowing me to hit the on button before continuing. She gasped, her eyes drooping closed as her next orgasm began to build. Within minutes she was writhing against me, falling off the edge for a second time. Her body was trembling incessantly and covered in sweat. She had a blissed out smile on her lips as she came down from her release.  

I gave her a few minutes, gently rubbing up and down the length of her naked body as her breathing returned to normal. When she finally opened her eyes, I smiled down at her as I reached to brush the stray hairs from her sweaty face, “Can I try it my way now?” 

She chewed on the inside of her cheek, arching a brow as she gave me a slight nod, seeming intrigued by my offer. I shifted lower, notching my hard length at her sopping wet entrance from behind. I sunk into her, just a few inches - in and out, adjusting her leg over mine and the movement of my hips to get the angle right. When I heard her gasp and felt her press back into me, I knew I had found that spot again. I set a slow, but steady rhythm as I held her in place against me with the arm that was tucked under her.  

With my free hand, I reached for the vibrator. Again, switching it on to the lowest setting and using the rounded tip to make tight circles around her clit. It didn’t take long before she fell apart again, and I was loving every second of it. My lips found her ear, “I want you to know…I’ll never deny you pleasure.” 

Her face turned toward mine, our heads leaning together as she panted against my mouth. Her hand reached up to twist in my hair, pulling it tightly. I groaned from the sting as my hips moved against her a little faster, “You’re mine now…I’ll give it to you any way you want it, whenever you want it…without question.” 

She suddenly tensed and moaned loudly against my lips, coming again for the third time without warning. I slowed my movements, drawing it out of her for as long as possible. I swallowed her gasps with a searing kiss as she continued to tremble against me. She returned the kiss with fervor, seeming more needy now than before we got started. 

My hips never stopped, but I gave her a brief reprieve from the vibrator. Once I placed it back at the apex of her thighs, she began to squirm and whine.  

“You got one more for me, Kitten?” I asked. 

She shook her head, still panting, “I-I dunno…” 

She looked absolutely wrecked, but I wasn’t done with her yet. It was taking everything in me to stay focused so that I didn’t lose it myself. I could tell I was getting close but was determined to hold out a little longer for her. I wanted to show her what she had been missing.  

I set a relentless pace, thrusting a little harder and faster now. I clicked the button on the vibrator to bump up the speed. Kat turned her head, burying her face in the pillow to muffle the sobbing moans that she could no longer hold back. I could feel her walls fluttering around me again, she was close, but the tension in her shoulders told me she was holding back. 

I nuzzled against her ear, shifting the arm that was looped under and around her so that I could grasp her chin to turn it toward me, “Look at me, sweetheart. I wanna see you.”  

She twisted her torso toward me the best she could given our current position and captured my lips with hers. Her hand cupped my cheek as she continued to groan against my lips. Her hot breath coming out in a rush between kisses. 

“Come on, Kitten. You’re so close…I can feel it. Give me another one,” I said in a soft, but commanding voice.  

“I-I can’t,” she said in a near sob. 

“Yes, you can, you’re almost there. Just let go.”  

“I can’t…I…can’t do it…”

After a little more coaxing, she finally did. I didn’t stop or slow down. Instead, I went faster and applied more pressure with the toy. Her jaw tensed as she fought to hold back her sobs, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes as she shifted to clench her thighs together, squeezing my thigh between hers. I somehow managed to keep the vibrator moving through it as her walls continued to contract around me - over and over again.  

I couldn’t hold on any longer, now thrusting deeper to chase my own release as I felt a rush of her slick covering my hand and thigh. It only took a few more thrusts before I was falling over the edge with her, completely losing it over the intensity and duration of her latest orgasm. Mine seemed to be just as intense as hers, causing my toes to curl and making me feel completely euphoric as I got lost in her. 

I collapsed on the bed behind her, gasping for air as she did the same at my side. I couldn’t help chuckling as I pulled her back against me. She turned, burying her face in the crook of my neck as she tried to get herself together. 

“You ok? Was that too much?” I asked quietly. 

She shook her head, “No…but I don’t even know what just happened. Was that one long orgasm or multiple?”  

Her words bubbled into quiet laughter against my chest. I couldn’t help hugging her tighter against me and laughing along with her. She settled in on her back, staring up at me as her giggles subsided. Her fingers found their way to my hair like they always did, and she began scratching at my scalp. Her mood seemed to shift suddenly, her expression serious as her eyes danced over my face.  

“You ready to head back to LA today?” I asked as my fingers trailed down the curve of her waist. 

She was quiet for a moment, eventually shaking her head, “No, I’m not ready for this trip to end.” 

I gave her a sad smile. I’m not ready either. “Why not?” 

Her brows pinched together, “Honestly, I’m afraid of what’s waiting for us when we get back. Drama is gonna be coming at us from all sides. Stacia and Joe are gonna have us under a microscope now after everything that’s happened. At least here, it’s just us. I don’t feel like we have to constantly be on guard. Ya know?”  

I tried not to frown but failed. I knew she was right. They weren’t going to make it easy on us. “It’s gonna be fine. We’ll get through it together. And it’s not like we’ll be under a microscope ALL the time. We can be together in private when we’re not doing show stuff. We just have to make sure we keep our hands off each other in public and you stop looking at me with gooey eyes all the time.”  

She scoffed, “Excuse me!?!? I do not.” 

I smirked, “Yeah ya do…have been for weeks.” 

She let out a nervous laugh, “Whatever, Bravo. You’re the one with that problem.” 

My smile widened, “Oh I absolutely have that problem. Admitting to it is the first step. You’re just so fucking perfect…I can’t help it.”  

Her cheeks flushed, “Stop it. I am not.” 

I chuckled as I shifted above her, caging her in to shower her with kisses through her giggles. We were interrupted by my alarm going off. My hand blindly reached for the phone on the nightstand as I hovered above her. After shutting it off, I leaned down to suck on her bottom lip eliciting a deep groan from her. I continued to pepper kisses along her jaw between my rambling words.  

“I actually can’t wait to get you home…in my house…in my bed…I wanna cook dinner…and breakfast for you. Maybe snuggle on the couch and watch a movie…make you fall apart…over…and over again.” 

Kat wrapped her legs around my waist, pulling me against her center. Little Bravo was definitely taking notice. She sighed, “Dieter, if you don’t stop now, we’re gonna miss our flight.” 

I snickered, “I can be quick too…” 

She rolled her eyes and laughed, “That may be the case, but I don’t want you to be.”  

I gave her one last peck on the lips, “Ugh, fine. I’ll go take a cold shower.”  

“Can I…” she paused, seeming unsure of herself.  

My brow arched at her, “You know the answer is yes…whatever it is.” 

She laughed, her cheeks flushing as she asked, “Can I take a shower with you?”  

I gave her a lopsided grin, “I thought we had a plane to catch?”  

“We do. I mean it…just shower. Nothing else.”  

I had never ‘just showered’ with anyone. Hell, I don’t even think you could call those showers at all. There was no getting clean involved. The idea of it had my heart racing. I wanted the intimacy of it. No, I needed it. I just wanted to be with her in every way possible.  

My smile softened, “I would honestly really like that.”  

I gave her a quick peck on the nose, then shifted to get out of bed. She watched me stretch as I stood, my dick was half hard and I didn't even bother to try and hide it. She chuckled, pulling the blankets back to get up. Her brows furrowed as she rubbed her thighs together.  

“Something wrong?” I asked.  

She snickered, “Yeah, you made a fucking mess of me.” 

“Yeah? Well…you made a mess of me too. Pretty sure you squirted all over my thigh.”  

Her mouth fell open, “Oh my god...I-Is that what happened?” 

I nodded. 

She looked a little stunned, “Well…that’s new.” 

I couldn’t help feeling a little smug over it, “That’s what happens when you have someone that cares to figure out what they’re doing.” 

She rolled her eyes and huffed out a laugh as she stood, “Shush you.” She paused, “Ugh, my legs feel weak.”  

I chuckled, wrapping my arms around her middle for support as I guided her toward the bathroom. Kat got into the walk-in shower and turned on the water, adjusting the nozzles to get the right temperature before stepping under the spray. I stepped in behind her, snaking my arms around her waist to hold her against me as we let the warm water run down our bodies. She turned, kissing me gently as she reached up to run her fingers through my hair, making sure it was saturated before reaching for the shampoo. We continued on like that, placing light kisses and caresses as we took turns washing each other. 

As she rinsed the conditioner from my hair, I began to feel somewhat emotional, and I didn’t really understand why. My chest felt tight, and I could feel a lump forming in my throat, but it wasn’t in a bad way. The only conclusion I could settle on was the fact that I could feel how she cared for me. It wasn’t fake. She wasn’t trying to take from me. I really felt like we were bonding in a way that I never had with another person, causing our connection to evolve and deepen. She was actually making me feel happy. It was overwhelming, making me feel breathless as she smiled at me.  

We didn’t take things further, but the shower still lasted a little longer than it probably should have given that we were on a tight schedule. We had to rush to get ready and pack up so that we would make it to the airport on time. We barely managed it, but did make it. Luckily, the studio had booked us a set of seats in business class. Where we were situated gave us a little privacy, allowing Kat to comfortably snuggle into my side without prying eyes. She slept for most of the flight, citing that she felt completely spent from our morning exploits. I slept some, but mostly split my time between watching some cheesy movie and watching her. Watching her sleep seemed to be my new favorite pastime. There was something about seeing her cuddled up at my side, completely relaxed and unguarded. It made me feel even closer to her somehow, knowing this was a side of her that not many people had the opportunity to see. I reveled in every second of it.  

Once we landed, she and I both had to make a conscious effort to behave ourselves, avoiding touching or looking at each other directly. It was obvious that eyes were on us as we made our way over to pick up our luggage. I wasn’t shocked to find paparazzi milling around as we moved toward the exit. They didn’t hesitate to approach us, attempting to make small talk about our time in New York and complementing our SNL performances. We smiled and politely went along with it until one of them began prying.  

“A source has reported that you two were sharing a hotel room, is that true?”  

Kat and I both tensed from the question. I could sense her eyes glancing in my direction as he continued to push for an answer. Sighing, I rolled my eyes at the guy, “Might wanna get a new source, dude. Not true.”  

“Really, you were seen coming and going from one room together the whole time you were there.” 

My jaw clenched as I took a deep centering breath. Who the fuck is feeding them information? “The studio put us up in a multi-room suite. We had separate bedrooms. We didn’t reserve it,” I finally said.  

“So, you’re sticking to your story that you aren't together then?”  

Kat scoffed and shook her head.  

“Kat, do you have any comments on those photos of Alec and Lana that came out a few days ago?”  

She tried to ignore him, not giving any reaction to the question at all as we continued walking. However, he kept pushing, each question about Alec getting more and more personal as he crowded her space to shove his camera in her face. I couldn’t take it anymore, moving to position myself between them as I gently guided Kat to the other side of me with a hand on her upper back. The pap tried to go around me, but I held out my arm to block him, “Dude, what’s your problem? Leave her alone or I’ll get security over here.”  

“You’re awfully protective of her, Dieter. You sure nothing’s going on with you two?”  

This guy was about to make me lose my cool, which I think might have been his goal. I had to remind myself that’s something the old Dieter would have done as I took another deep breath, refusing to give him anything to work with. Instead, I focused on getting Kat out of here. Luckily, we didn’t have to put up with them too much longer as the pickup exit came into view.  

Once we made it outside, Evan was there waiting for us. I told Kat to wait in the car while Evan and I put our bags in the back. The paps were still there, with the one guy continuing to be an absolute asshat.  

“Hey man, how’s sobriety going? You think you’re gonna stick to it this time? Have you ever been sober this long? What’s different about this round?” 

He just kept going, on and on. I really wanted to punch him in the fucking face. My frustration intensified when I couldn’t get the bags to fit in the trunk. Evan could sense that I was getting worked up. He subtly nudged me with his elbow, “D, I got it. Just go wait in the car so this guy will fuck off.” 

I gave him a tight nod, ignoring the camera and incessant questions as I moved to the back door to get in. The paps hung around, snapping shots of us in the back seat. Kat gave me a tense look, “I really hope this doesn’t become the new normal. This is fucking insane. Why are they being so pushy?” 

I looked out the front window and narrowed my eyes on them as they continued to snap pictures of us, “I dunno. Somebody is obviously feeding them information, right?”  

She sighed, “Have to be. I think we’re really gonna have to watch ourselves. They’re gonna be analyzing everything we do.”  

Evan got into the driver’s seat, quickly starting the ignition and pulling out into traffic. Kat and I both visibly relaxed as we left the paparazzi behind. We didn’t move any closer together, but I did reach over to take her hand, entwining our fingers to rest on the seat between us.  

“Sorry that guy was giving you trouble, D. If I had known that was going to be an issue I would have called ahead for security.” 

I squeezed Kat’s hand a little tighter, “It’s fine, it was really just the one guy that was a problem.” 

Evan nodded, looking at me in the rearview mirror, “Thank God for that…Anyway, how was your trip? Everything else go OK without me being there to hold your hand?” 

I scoffed, “I can follow a schedule without assistance you know.” 

Evan laughed, “Yeah, when you’re in the mood to do it.” 

I rolled my eyes at him, “Zee still doing OK?” 

He nodded again, “Yeah, she's a little mopey, but still feisty and still doesn’t like me. She’ll be happy to see you, I’m sure.”  

I chuckled. It still warmed my heart a little that she didn’t seem to like anyone but me or Kat. I liked to think that maybe it was a sign of some sort. 

Evan briefly glanced back over his shoulder in Kat’s direction, “Oh, Kat, the locksmith guy should be at your place just after we get there…said it should take an hour and a half tops to change everything out.” 

Kat smiled, “Thanks. I appreciate it, but really you didn’t have to do that.” 

He laughed, “I get paid to do what Dieter tells me to do, so yeah, I did. Really, it was no big deal.”  

Kat shook her head at me, biting back a smile.  

We drove in silence for a few minutes until Evan eventually spoke, attempting small talk, “So, aside from the crazy paparazzi, how was your week in New York?” 

I couldn’t control the smile on my face, as I glanced over at Kat. She turned to look out the window, covering her smirk with her hand. 

I cleared my throat, “It was good. We had a good week.” 

I could feel Evans' eyes on my face in the rearview mirror. Tucking my bottom lip between my teeth, I too turned to look out the window.  

“That’s it? Just…a good week?”  

My gaze met his in the mirror, “Yeah. I mean…it was work. All week.” 

His eyes narrowed on me. Fuck. He knows. 

“You're being dodgy, D. What did you do?” 

I laughed nervously, “Nothing. I behaved myself.” 

He stopped at a red light, then turned in his seat to look between us, his eyes immediately dropping down to see our entwined hands on the seat. Kat and I looked between each other and Evan, wide-eyed as a huge grin spread across his face.  

“I fucking knew it!” 

I sighed and raked my free hand down my face, “Evan, please shut up.”  

A horn blared behind us, Evan laughed loudly as he turned forward realizing the light was now green.  

“Don’t worry, D. You know I won’t say anything. I’m so fucking excited for you guys though…greatest news ever! He’s been pining over you for weeks, Kat. I hope you know that.” 

Fucking hell. “Evan, shut up. Please.” 

Kat chuckled beside me, “No, Evan. Please keep going.”  

Evan was about to say something else, but I cut him off, “Remember who pays you, dude.”  

His mouth snapped shut. He huffed through his nose, “Sorry, Kat. He has a point.”  

I looked at Kat with a smug grin, “For the record, I’ve said nothing to him. He just made assumptions. You can’t believe anything he says.”  

Kat laughed at our banter, now relaxing some and scooting just a little closer. The three of us slipped into easy conversation after that, filling Evan in on our week and chatting about SNL. Kat and Evan took the opportunity to gang up on me and affectionately give me hell about my plant obsession. I loved that they seemed to be getting along and felt comfortable enough around each other to laugh and joke around. My circle was very small, so it was important to me that they got along.  

Sometime later, Evan pulled into Kat’s driveway. We all exited the vehicle. Evan and I dug through the trunk, pulling out my bags to get to Kat’s. Evan was just shutting the trunk when the locksmith pulled into the driveway. Kat took a moment to talk through what she needed done with the locksmith. Afterward, he disappeared to the back of his van to gather his supplies.  

I grabbed Kat’s luggage, then glanced over at Evan, “Can you handle that from here? I wanna make sure there aren’t any assholes lurking around.” My eyes shifted to Kat, “Assuming that’s OK with you, of course.”  

Her lips tugged upward on one side, “Yeah, that’s…OK. I would appreciate that.” 

I followed her to the front door, suddenly feeling nervous that I was about to see her place for the first time. She keyed in, holding the door open for me as I drug her luggage inside.  

I gave her a nervous smile, “Where do you want these?” 

She looked anxious, fidgeting with the keys in her hand, “Ummm, just leave them in the living room.”  

I followed her further inside and set the luggage down next to the couch. She ran her hands through the top of her hair, “Sorry, it’s sort of a mess in here. Not as squeaky clean as your place.” 

I looked around, it wasn’t bad. She had a pile of laundry at the end of the love seat, mail piled on the coffee table, and a blanket and pillow strewn across the couch. There were other little things lying around - an iPad, book, glasses, and an empty coffee cup. Otherwise, the place was pretty clean. I shrugged, “It’s not that bad. My place looked a hell of a lot worse than this before I hired a housekeeper. I was also a drunk and an addict…sooo, use your imagination.”  

Her brow furrowed, “Fair enough. I just usually don’t feel like doing much while the show is in season. It takes a lot out of me these days.” 

I reached out to rub her arm, “That’s understandable. I promise I won’t hold it against you. You know…I could send…”  

She poked me in the chest, “Dieter, no. Stop it.”  

I held my hands up in defeat, “I know, I’m just saying…A little help never hurt anyone.”  

She rolled her eyes, “No. I don’t need it. Now, let's check for lurking assholes.”  

After a quick peck on my lips, she grabbed my hand, leading me through the house to check things out. My eyes scanned over the surroundings, taking in the spaces for the first time. She kept things simple, with minimal decor all in earth tones with small splashes of color. She did have several paintings, all abstract pieces of dancers. I had to smile to myself knowing the pieces I had been working on. They would fit right in with the rest of her collection.  

I followed her downstairs to find she had her own mini dance studio - hardwood floors with a wall of mirrors. The room was basically empty aside from a loveseat on the far wall and a small table with speakers.  

Kat moved toward a door at the bottom of the steps, “Let me just go check the garage. I’m not seeing anything out of place. All of his junk is still here. It doesn’t look like he’s been around. Maybe he was afraid of running into Evan again?” 

I nodded as my eyes focused on a mess of fabric hanging from ceiling gliders in the corner, “Yeah, maybe…”  

She poked her head in the garage and looked around before closing the door again, “Everything looks good in there too.”  

I could feel her eyes on my face as she came to stand beside me, “What are you looking at?” 

I cleared my throat and gave her a questioning look, “I-Is that a sex swing?” 

Her eyes drifted to where I had been staring moments before, then she snorted. “Really? That’s the first place your mind goes?” 

I gave her a sheepish smile and shrugged, “It’s what it looks like.” 

She laughed and shook her head, “No, those are aerial silks. I do aerial yoga.”  

Her hands slid around my waist as she leaned in next to my ear to whisper, “It’s how I stay bendy.” She pulled back, smiling at me. 

I gave her a wolfish grin as I pulled her in closer to press my forehead to hers, “I don’t actually know what that is, but it sounds fucking hot. I’d like to watch you do that some time…and maybe participate…in some way.” 

She laughed against my lips, “Life with you is never boring, Dieter Bravo.”  

I gave her a quick peck, “I like to keep you on your toes…and keep your toes curling.”  

She cackled, moving to wrap her arms around my neck. I leaned in and kissed her again, more deeply this time. My hands gripped her hips, gently squeezing and pulling them against mine.  

She hummed against my lips, then pulled away, “We still need to rehearse, and we have spray tans this evening, so we can’t get too carried away.” 

I rolled my eyes and groaned, “Can we please skip the spray tan?” 

She sighed, “You know what…I don’t wanna do it either. I vote we skip it. Fuck’em. We need to rehearse and I’m in no hurry to run into Alec. I think we can get away with it this week.”  

I snorted, “You might be spending too much time with me…”  

She shrugged with a smile, “I’ll let production know not to expect us. Do you need to run home before we go to the dance studio?” 

My hand scratched at the back of my neck, “I dunno, if I go home just to leave again, Zee might not let me back in the house…” 

Kat giggled, “That’s true…I certainly wouldn’t make it easy on you if I were her.”  

I huffed out a laugh, “Gee, thanks. Maybe I’ll just send Evan back with my luggage for now and have him pick me up later? We can go grab an early dinner then head to the studio if you want? Ooor…we can rehearse here…”  

Her eyes narrowed, “Dieter, I’m fairly certain that if we tried to rehearse here, there would be no rehearsing.”  

I barked out a laugh, “You’re probably right. To the studio then…where we have to behave.”  

I gave her one last kiss, this one a little more heated as I hugged her tightly against me. We were interrupted by someone clearing their throat behind us at the top of the stairs. Our attention averted to Evan standing there, hands in pockets with a shit eating grin on his face.  

“Sorry to interrupt you two, but Kat, the locksmith is ready to work on the side door that goes into the garage.”  

Her cheeks flushed as she nodded, “Got it. I’ll go open the door for him. Thanks for helping with that.”  

After Kat walked out into the garage, Evan looked at me and silently mouthed “Oh. My. God.” as he bounced down the stairs to meet me.  

I couldn’t help smiling, “Shut up. Don’t say anything.”  

He bumped me with his elbow, “You guys are too damn cute. Dude, you’ve got it so bad. I’ve never seen you like this…” 

I raised my hand, “Stop. I don’t wanna hear it.”  

He held up his hands in surrender, “Ok. Ok. All I’m gonna say is, I approve. She’s fucking awesome…and hot. She makes you look like less of a hot mess.”  

I scoffed, “Oh fuck off with that.”  

As we waited for Kat to finish up with the locksmith, I filled Evan in on the plans for the evening. He agreed and left soon after that. Kat and I weren’t far behind him, first driving to grab some take out and eating in the car. We weren’t in the mood to be bothered by fans or paparazzi if they happened to appear as they seemed to have a way of doing lately. We ate quickly and mostly in silence, realizing the day was getting away from us. It would be our only chance to rehearse in the studio before the live performance, so we did want to try and take advantage of it. 

It was weird rehearsing in the dance studio after being completely alone and uninhibited in New York. We were cognizant that anyone could walk by and see us through the glass, making sure to keep a reasonable distance between us throughout the evening. The vibes, however, were completely different. We were focused and only discussing the dance, but the electricity buzzing between us was at an all-time high. There was a new intensity in the way we moved together, perfectly synchronized and connected. We could read each other so effortlessly in how our bodies shifted around the dance floor. There were no more verbal cues passing between us, only looks and guiding touches. I could feel her unyielding trust and confidence in me more than ever and honestly, it was making me fall for her all over again.  

After a few run throughs, Kat mentioned that we might need to take it down a few notches. Even we could sense the chemistry sparking between us now. There was no denying it. We decided to try and take a more playful and flirty approach. Not changing the choreography but executing it in a way that didn’t look like we were seconds away from having hot passionate sex on the dance floor. It was a major feat, but we finally got it figured out - or so we thought.  

Before we knew it, it was nearing 10PM and Evan was texting to let me know he was outside waiting. I sighed, bumping Kat with my shoulder, “I think I’ve gotten spoiled being with you this week. Going to bed without you is sort of a depressing thought. You sure you don’t wanna come home with me?”  

She chuckled, “I do, but you need to spend some time with Zee when you get home. We also need to actually get some sleep tonight.”  

She has a point. I nodded in agreement, but that didn’t keep me from whining, “Fiiiine. I’ll suffer through it.” 

I reached out, subtly grabbing her pinky with mine, “I’d really like to give you a goodnight kiss, but I know that’s probably a bad idea.” 

She shook her head, “Probably not a good idea while we’re here.” 

My lips set into a tight line, “This is gonna be a tortuous seven weeks, isn’t it?” 

She laughed and nodded, “Probably…but it’s not like we can’t see each other outside of the studio, so calm down.”  

“Fair point. Ok, I’ll walk you to your car and I will behave myself.”  

Kat grabbed her bag, then we made our way toward the exit. As soon as we stepped outside, I noticed a car across the street that had someone sitting inside it.  

“I’m probably being paranoid, but that might be a pap over there,” I said, nodding my head in the direction of the vehicle.  

Kat’s eyes shifted and squinted off in the distance. She blew air out of her cheeks, “Yeah, you might be right.”  

“Fucking hell.”  

I followed two steps behind Kat as we walked toward her car and where Evan was parked next to it. I took a minute to open the driver side door for her as she tossed her bag through to the passenger seat. She smiled up at me, “I guess I’ll see you bright and early.”  

I nodded, “Yep, I’ll be there with my dancing shoes on. Text me when you get home and are locked inside, please…wanna make sure you’re safe.”  

Her lip tugged upward as she sat in the seat, “I will. Give Zee some hugs for me? Goodnight.”  

I nodded, “Night, Kit-Kat.”  

I reached down and hit the lock button on her door, then shut it. I could see her smiling and shaking her head as she started the ignition. I watched her back out, giving a brief wave as she put the car in drive, then turned to get in the passenger seat of Evan’s car. I was met by his smirking face.  

“What?” I asked in a clipped voice.  

“You’re down bad, dude.” 

I let out a controlled breath, “I am. So fucking bad.”  

Evan barked out a laugh as he backed out of the parking spot, “At least you’re aware.” 

We were quiet for a few minutes. Suddenly, Evan opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but snapped it back shut.  

I crossed my arms over my chest, “Spit it out.”  

His grip tightened on the steering wheel, “It’s just that…you’ve been doing so well. I don’t want this to derail you.” 

My brows furrowed, “Why would it? I haven’t even thought about doing any of that shit since I’ve been spending time with Kat.”  

He chewed on his cheek, considering his next words, “And if it doesn’t work out with her?”  

The question felt like a punch to the gut. I hadn’t even considered it. The way it stood right now, I couldn’t imagine a path to that. We seemed to be fitting together seamlessly. 

“IF that were to happen…I like to think that I could handle it. I’m in a better place now and I’ve learned healthier coping mechanisms… I’ve surrounded myself with good people who won’t take advantage of my troubles.”  

I paused briefly, shrugging as I thought through my next words, “I got here without her so it’s not like I need her to stay where I’m at. However, she’s making me happy…it’s like she’s the last missing piece. I…” 

I wasn’t sure if I dared speak the next words out loud. I could feel my heart racing at the thought. I could feel Evan’s glances in my direction, patiently waiting for me to continue. 

He sighed, “Just say it, D. What’s on your mind?” 

I puffed air out of my cheeks, raking my hands down my face. I could feel the sweat beading at the base of my neck as I swallowed thickly, “I can imagine myself being with her…like, long term. Fuck, I’d move her in with me tomorrow if she’d do it. I-I’ve never wanted that with anyone before.” 

Evan’s eyes widened, “Woah, that’s pretty heavy, D. That’s a big step for you.”  

I laughed nervously, “Trust me, I know. I mean, that’s not gonna happen…not tryin’ to rush things. I’m trying to be realistic about it. We still need to get to know each other and all that…but I feel…hopeful.”  

“Damn, D. I’m proud of you man. For once you’re not acting impulsively.” 

I chuckled, “Na, I don’t think she would let me. She totally calls me out on my shit.” 

He smacked the steering wheel as he laughed, “Good. You need that…and for what it’s worth, I do like her so far. She seems genuine.”  

I couldn’t help smiling at his words. I loved that he liked her.  

He pulled into my driveway a short time later. After a quick thanks, I made my way to the front door and keyed in. My eyes immediately sought out Zee so I could scoop her up and cuddle her. I found her sitting at the edge of the couch. I don’t know what sort of reaction I expected from her, but sassy indifference wasn’t it. She gave me serious side eye as I sat my keys, wallet, and phone down and toed off my shoes.  

I approached her, speaking in a soft voice, “Hey baby girl. Did you miss me?” 

I squatted down in front of her just as she stood, turned her back to me, flicked her bushy tail in my face, and jumped from the couch. She sashayed over to her cat tree, then made her way up to the very top. She perched with her back to me, still flicking her tail with attitude.  

I snorted out a laugh, “Really? I’m gone for a week to work so I can fund your extravagant freeloading lifestyle, and this is what I get?”  

More side eye and tail flicking.  

“Ok. Fine. No cuddles means no bedtime snack.”  

Her tail paused as she finally turned to look at me with her rounded green eyes. “Ahh, that got your attention, huh?”  

She stood and meowed loudly, eventually making her way down to the lower level of the tree before jumping down and walking toward the kitchen with determination. “You’re about to hardcore swindle me aren’t you, you little shit?”  

She proceeded to chatter at me. I felt like I was being scolded as I made my way over to her personal cabinet for a bag of treats. She wasn’t interested in any of them. Instead, she kept trying to lead me to the refrigerator. I sighed, knowing what she wanted and hoping that Evan had boiled a chicken breast for her. I had started something with that. It was now a thing she demanded.  

“I gotta hand it to you…you’re a confident little thing and you definitely know what you want.” 

She jumped up on the island, staring at me intently as she swished her tail around. I rolled my eyes and pulled the refrigerator door open, scanning the shelves for a glass bowl with chicken. I easily found it on the top shelf because Evan had apparently printed a label for it that said ‘Queen Zee’s Fucking Chicken’.  

I chuckled, “You gave uncle Evan hell, didn’t you baby girl?”  

She let out a low mewl, looking somewhat smug now as I pulled out the bowl and popped the lid off. I pulled off a few tiny shreds of meat, letting her take them one-by-one from my hand. After they were gone, she began to meow loudly again and rub her head against my hand. I sighed, “Fucking swindler…fine. One more and that’s it. We gotta get ready for bed.”  

She seemed satisfied after that. After putting her bowl back in the fridge, I moved to wash my hands. I heard my phone ding with a text just as I was drying them. As I figured, it was Kat. 

Kit Kat: I’m home, locked inside, and in bed. I already miss having you with me. ☹️ 

Her words caused a rush of excitement, but also longing. I would have loved to have her with me, at her place or mine. I didn’t care where, but I did have Zee to think about too. 

Me: I miss you too, sweetheart. Maybe you can come over after rehearsals some this week? I’d love to make you dinner again. Something Greek, maybe? 😏 

Kit Kat: I love it when you talk dirty to me. 😉 

Kit Kat: Sounds like a plan. I’ll see you bright and early. Goodnight. 😘 

I couldn’t keep the goofy grin off my face as I read her latest messages. I loved it when she was playful and flirty.  

Me: Sweet dreams, Kitten. 😘 

I couldn’t help wondering if she would roll her eyes or clench her thighs together over the mention of the new nickname. I could picture her doing both simultaneously and it caused a snicker as I made my way upstairs to get ready for bed.  

Minutes later I was settled in, trying my best to fall asleep, but I couldn’t. Without Kat’s warm body snuggled against me, I felt restless. I hated the lonely feeling that her absence left in the pit of my stomach. I only had a small taste of what it was like to have her with me, but it was all I needed to get hooked.  

Zee eventually made her way to bed, obviously over her anger as she snuggled up in the crook of my arm and purred herself to sleep. That seemed to help me relax enough to doze off. At least I wasn’t alone.

 My 5:30 AM alarm came fast. I felt like I had just closed my eyes as I rolled out of bed. I went through my usual routine of getting ready, feeding Zee, and stopping to get Kat and I some breakfast and coffee before heading to the production studio. I was feeling a little on edge, somewhat worried about Alec causing drama. However, I reasoned that he had had a week to cool off and had clearly moved on with Lana. Maybe he would just let it go. I hoped so, for Kat’s sake. She tried to act like his behavior didn’t bother her, but I knew it did.  

Kat and I arrived early, as usual. We were both smiling like fools when we caught sight of each other. I couldn’t help touching the small of her back as I leaned in to tell her “Good morning” and hand her coffee and breakfast over. A heated look passed between us that set my heart racing. I could already tell that it was going to be so hard to act normal while we were around others.  

She smirked, leaning in to speak in a low voice, “Careful Bravo, you’re gettin’ the gooey eyes when you look at me.” 

My brows arched, “Yeah? So are you, sweetheart.”  

We both laughed as we made our way to the ballroom. Our early arrival made us first in line for camera blocking and run throughs of the performance. The crew was still getting things set up, so we took a minute to finish up our breakfast and coffee as we waited. Other couples soon began to filter in. I could tell Kat was getting more and more tense each time the door opened.  

“You ok?” I asked her in a near whisper.  

She nodded, “Yeah, I’m just afraid he’s gonna cause drama.” 

I reached out to give her hand a small squeeze, “If he does, he’s gonna have me to deal with. I’ll break his fucking face this time.”  

She peered up at me through her lashes with a smirk, “While I find your protective side to be incredibly hot, you will not do anything. He’s not worth it.” 

I couldn’t agree to that. Luckily, I didn’t have to because our attention was drawn to the band Director who wanted to discuss the music arrangement before we got started. After that, things were in full swing as we began our run throughs. By that point, Alec and Lana had arrived. I swear I could feel their eyes on us. I think Kat could too, which would explain the tension running through her body during our first round.  

As we waited for the cameras and lights to reset, I grabbed both of her hands and gave her arms a shake, “Loosen up. We’re supposed to be making this flirty and fun, remember? Ignore the asshole and focus on me.”  

She chuckled, “I think I’m the one that’s supposed to be telling you to loosen up…” 

They gave us the signal to take our starting position, which I took advantage of as I gripped her hips and pulled her backside against me more than necessary. I could see the hint of a smile as she tilted her face to the side toward mine. My lips leaned in next to her ear, “Relax, I’ve got you.”  

That seemed to do the trick. I could feel the tension leave her body as she all but melted into me just as the music started. We did try to keep it fun and flirty, but there was no denying the sparks between us no matter how hard we tried to hide them. By the time we finished, all eyes were on us. It had clearly drawn everyone’s attention.  

Surprisingly, they didn’t ask us to go through it again and gave leave for us to head out for our final wardrobe fitting. There was a quiet murmur of voices and a weird vibe as we walked off the dance floor. Kat and I made sure to keep our distance from each other as we walked toward the exit, but I could sense her uneasiness. I was feeling it too.  

As we stepped into the empty hallway, our eyes connected.  

“Is it just me or was that weird?” she asked. 

I nodded in agreement, “No, that was definitely weird.” 

She puffed air out of her cheeks, “Maybe it’s just because they all know about the Alec thing now. I’m sure that’s caused some gossip in our absence.”  

That thought did nothing to alleviate the uneasiness I was feeling, “Yeah, maybe…”  

Our wardrobe fitting went quickly as no alterations were needed. Kat looked amazing as always. The sheer fabric they had swapped out on the skirt half of the dress was flowy, yet hugged her curves perfectly. It emphasized her hips, taking my mind back to how those hips moved on top of me in New York. Her eyes had caught mine drifting up her body in the mirror as she turned and twisted to get a good view of the new sparkly material. The smirk on her lips told me that she knew exactly what I was thinking about as she innocently twisted her hips a little more.  

We were ahead of schedule as we made our way down to hair and makeup, quickly taking a seat with the ladies that had worked on us the previous week. They had made the process a little less painful, actually chatting and having fun with us. I made an attempt to learn their names this time. Holly, who had done Kat’s hair the previous week, began combing through her long locks as she eyed me, “Dieter, do you have any hair recommendations this week?” she asked.  

Kat and I laughed, “I’m not sure why you would ever want my recommendations. I’m sure Kat doesn’t.”  

Samantha, who was working on my hair, smiled, “I dunno, your recommendation sort of pulled the look together.”  

Kat’s foot kicked at mine, “You always have an opinion. Share it.”  

I snickered. She wasn’t wrong, “Hmmm, with that dress…I think down in soft, romantic waves would be best. I’m not a fan of it being slicked back with a gallon of hair gel.”  

Samantha paused with the container of hair gel in her hand, “You want yours down in soft, romantic waves too, honey?” She had a teasing look on her face. Kat and Holly both snorted out laughter.  

I chuckled, “Uh, I didn’t know that was an option. Do I get extensions too? I think it would look fabulous. I could give Fabio a run for his money.” 

All the ladies burst into laughter just as Alec and Lana came strolling in. Alec had a stony look on his face as he sat on the opposite side of the room. Lana on the other hand, seemed amused about something as she glanced our way. It was sort of bizarre. Kat gave me a questioning look. She had seen it too. I shrugged in response.  

Our small group continued to be boisterous, not caring about our new company. Several other couples soon filled the stations, but it didn’t seem to lessen the tension in the room. Even though we pretended to ignore it, it was definitely there. Kat had turned her seat to face me, with her back to Alec. I, on the other hand, could see his reflection perfectly. I didn’t miss how his eyes flicked over in our direction ever so often. His expression remained neutral, giving nothing away as he alternated between watching us and listening to his partner. My gut was telling me he was a ticking time bomb, waiting for the perfect moment to go off.  

Holly finished up with Kat’s hair, smiling as she asked me what I thought of the final product. I looked Kat over, not even paying much attention to her hair. I knew my sappy face had to be giving me away, but I sort of didn’t care, “I think she looks fucking amazing.” 

I felt Kat nudge my foot with hers as her eyes widened. I quickly looked away and glanced at myself in the mirror, “I mean, not as good as me, obviously.” It had the intended effect as Samantha and Holly laughed. 

As they worked on our makeup, I blabbed about how Zee gave me hell when I got home the previous night. That topic seemed to keep everyone entertained until we were finished. I could feel Alec’s eyes on us as we got up to leave. I made sure to block his view of Kat as much as possible, allowing her to walk ahead of me to exit. We did a quick change into our costumes then headed back to the ballroom for our final dress rehearsal. After going through it once, we were free until showtime.  

Evan was kind enough to bring us lunch after we found catering to be less than satisfying. He joined us in my dressing room while we ate. It was a nice distraction and gave him and Kat a chance to get to know each other a little better. It was nearing showtime when he left, but it still gave Kat and I a few minutes to ourselves. As soon as he closed the door behind himself, Kat’s eyes were on me. She stood from the chair she had been sitting in and moved to perch on my lap, resting her arms around my neck as she looked at my gelled back hair, “I really should tell them to leave your hair loose too. It doesn’t look very touchable like this.”  

I laughed, “No kidding. It’s like fucking concrete.”  

One hand trailed down my cheek, then her thumb brushed over my lips, “I really wanna kiss you right now.”  

Her voice was low, her eyes dilating as I looked into them. I couldn’t help tightening my grip on her hip, “What’s stopping you?”  

“It’ll fuck up our makeup and we’ll have explaining to do.”  

I sighed, gently nuzzling our noses together, “Fucking makeup.” 

She laughed quietly as I leaned my head against hers, “I’m perfectly content with a good cuddle too. I hate not being able to be affectionate whenever I want to.” 

There was a flash of emotion on her face. I couldn’t place it. Sadness maybe? Regret? Both? Her arm tightened around my neck slightly. I shifted, leaning my head down to place a kiss on her bare shoulder. Our moment was interrupted by staff calling out the 20 minute warning in the hallway. Kat reluctantly pulled away and began fiddling with the buttons on my shirt, undoing two of them. I chuckled, “What’re you doing?”  

Her hand dipped inside and laid flat against my chest, “Encouraging your button allergy and…maybe showing you off a little.”  

Her eyes shifted up to meet my gaze, “And I just needed to feel you.”  

That same look from a moment ago returned. I could see it now, she was anxious. My hand dropped down over hers on my chest, lacing our fingers together before bringing them to my lips for a soft kiss. My eyes never left hers. We stayed like that for a beat until I begrudgingly broke the spell, “We probably need to get to the staging area now.”  

She nodded, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”  

She stood, not letting go of my hand, pausing to grab her phone and give herself a quick once over in the mirror, then pulled me along to the door. I wrapped my arm around her waist, stopping her and pulling her back against my chest, leaning in to speak quietly against her ear, “Just for the record, you look like a fucking goddess today.” 

She smiled, “You’re not looking so bad yourself.”  

I chuckled as she opened the door and stepped away from me into the hallway. We silently made our way through the hustle and bustle to the staging area to wait for the show to begin. It was nice to have Kat there with me the entire time since she didn’t have to worry about the professional dancers performance this week.  

Throughout the show, we stayed huddled close together, watching and critiquing the performances of each couple. After tonight, it would be down to eight couples, which meant the competition was about to become much more intense. There were several groups that had really improved, and at least four of them appeared to be serious competitors for Kat and me. As if there wasn’t enough fuel on the fire, one of the four couples happened to be Alec and Lana.  

Our performance was scheduled to be last this week. So, we had a pretty good idea of what we were up against. As our performance got closer, we stepped over to the hair and makeup team for some quick touch ups, then Kat pulled out her phone and headphones, not deviating from our routine of getting us hyped up. I, however, didn’t feel like we needed hyping up for this one. I wanted to be in the right mindset for the performance, to feel the emotions of the music we were dancing too. I also felt like she was still a little anxious and wanted to help her relax.  

I reached for her phone, “Can I make a suggestion this week?”  

She gave me a quizzical look and nodded, opening her music app and passing the phone to me. I found the song that we were dancing to this week and hit play. She smiled at me. 

I winked and grabbed her hand, “Just setting the mood.” 

I wanted so badly to hold her, but I knew that probably wasn’t a good idea. Instead, I pulled her hand to my chest where she had placed it earlier, resting mine over hers, I began doing some of the basic footwork for the Rumba, before transitioning into the quick, quick, slow box pattern in the small open space we had to ourselves. I hoped that it would appear that we were practicing a bit before going out onto the dance floor, even if we weren’t framed in the proper position.  

It seemed to have the intended effect on her as her eyes locked with mine. I could feel the tension leaving her body as we moved together and blocked out the flurry of activity around us, only focusing on each other. We went on like this for a good portion of the song until I eventually pulled her in for a hug and continued swaying to the music. We didn’t say anything. We didn’t need to. I felt like the lyrics of the song were doing a lot of the talking for us - at least they were for me. There was a new intensity and focus that passed between us as the last notes played. It gave me goosebumps and had my heart fluttering in that way it tended to do when I was with her.  

Nearby movement caught my attention. It was one of the camera operators tasked with getting behind the scenes footage. I sighed, knowing he had probably caught a lot of that, but I also kind of didn’t care. A production assistant appeared at our side, letting us know that we needed to get in place. We nodded as Kat grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the ballroom floor entrance.  

The minute we took our starting position, the air around us was crackling with that strange electricity that I always felt between us. As soon as I slid my left hand around Kat’s waist and pulled her backside against my front, I knew there was going to be nothing playful or flirty about this performance. She melted into me and seemed to be all in for taking the sensual route. My right hand reached to lift hers to the back of my neck and slid down the underside of her arm. She turned her head to the side, our lips nearly touching as my right hand took her left to fan her outward. It was almost like we were back on the rooftop in New York, completely alone and lost in each other.  

We didn’t miss a beat, executing each move perfectly. Our footwork was completely in sync as we twisted and twirled around the room. I could feel a rush of something run through me each time our eyes met. Hers were blazing with the fire that I had longed to see there since I first noticed it, and they were blazing for me. The connection that I felt with her in that moment seemed almost otherworldly and had definitely ascended to a new level. There was no hiding whatever was happening between us. It was on display for everyone to see, more so than it had been during the morning rehearsals.  

By the time we got to the lift, Kat had completely thrown all caution to the wind. After wrapping her legs around my waist and rolling her torso upward, her hands found their way to the sides of my face, grazing her lips against mine as I turned us to transition to the next move. We damn near kissed on live national television. We didn’t hold back through the last half of the song, feeling every word, every note, and pouring it into our performance. By the time she spun into me for the last lift and ending pose, I felt like I could have kissed her right there in front of the world, but I refrained. I let her take the lead on how she wanted to end it. After dipping her backwards, her right hand found its way to my cheek as she nudged our noses together. Her eyes were bright as she broke into a dazzling smile and leaned her head against mine. I stood, wrapping my arms around her middle to lift her with me. She pulled me into a tight hug as the audience broke into near deafening applause.  

We made our way over to the judge’s table for feedback. All they gave were words of praise, emphasizing how the chemistry between us had reached new levels and was off the charts for this performance. They also mentioned that we oozed sensuality and were perfectly in step with one another. Their enthusiasm blew me away and I honestly hadn’t seen them that excited for any of the other performances this week. No one had gotten a perfect score yet, but three of the couples were within 5 points of it after tonight. I was hopeful that we could at least get one of the high scores for the night based on their reaction.  

Once they were finished with their feedback, Kat and I made our way over to the interview area and waited for a commercial break to end to receive our scores. Her right hand wrapped around my bicep while the other squeezed my hand tightly. I shot a nervous glance in her direction as she leaned in, “Don’t worry, the whole thing was perfect. We’ve got this.”  

We held each other's gaze, both of us with a small smile on our lips. Her confidence helped me relax some. Our attention was pulled back to the host who was now talking to the camera. He turned to us, asking about our challenges for the week and wondering how we managed to pull it off while also preparing for SNL too. I was in a daze as we answered his questions, not even really remembering what I had said by the time they went to the judges for scores.  

I could feel Kat’s hold on me tighten with each score of ten that we received. Once it was down to the last judge, she and I both waited with bated breath. If she had squeezed my hand much tighter, she might have broken some bones. When the final ten was called out, we looked at each other, wide-eyed and shocked. It was a delayed reaction as she let go of my hand and nearly jumped into my embrace, wrapping her arms around my neck and hugging me tightly as I spun her around. Both of us laughed loudly and enjoyed the moment together.  

The side-eyed glances as we joined the rest of the cast did not go unnoticed. I couldn’t figure out why they were all looking at us like that. If looks could kill, Alec would have definitely taken us out right then. Our gazes had locked for a brief moment. There was something about his glare that sent a shiver down my spine as he calmly turned to leave the staging area. I tried to ignore the gnawing feeling in my gut as I turned back to Kat, who was smiling up at me with her face flushed from the adrenaline of the moment. I tucked her into my side as we waited for the bottom three to be announced. Unfortunately, Alec and Lana were not included in that. They had received the second highest score of the night, just behind us. I could only hope they would have a massive fuck up and be voted off soon. 

Kat’s POV  After the show ended, Dieter and I leisurely strolled toward our dressing rooms. Both of us were still vibrating from excitement having earned a perfect score for our performance. We were the first couple to do so this season and it was the first time I had ever accomplished it since being on the show. I knew it was because of him. Not because he was a good dancer, which he was, but also because of the trust we had in each other and our ever strengthening bond. I don’t think I could have managed it with anyone else. I now felt confident that we had a real chance of making it to the finale and maybe even winning. No matter the outcome, I would have Dieter. Even if he was the only thing I got out of this, I knew that had the potential to be enough.  

We were making plans for dinner to celebrate our success as we reached Dieter’s dressing room. He told me to think about what I wanted to eat as I continued past his door down the hallway toward mine. I noticed that he kept a watchful eye on me until I got to mine, which I appreciated.  

I felt my phone vibrate in my hand just as I stepped inside my space. I glanced down to see a text notification from my sister as I closed the door behind me, realizing too late that Alec had been waiting in the nook behind it for me to enter. His hands were on me in an instant, roughly twisting my arm behind my back and pinning my face against the wall.  

I watched as he locked the door with his free hand, then felt him lean in, brushing his lips against my ear as he spoke in a deep, threatening voice, “You didn’t really think you could make me out to be the bad guy and get away with it, did you?” 

He twisted my arm harder, “That little stunt you pulled with the paparazzi was not the way to go, baby. You should’ve kept your fucking mouth shut.”  

I felt pain shoot through my arm and panic taking over my body. There was something off about him this time. He seemed out of control and vengeful.  

He turned me to face him before shoving me back against the wall. I managed to keep my head from smacking against it, but it did knock the air out of me a little. He moved closer, caging me in with his arms, “And now you come back from spending a week with that asshole and try to embarrass me with that fucking performance? Pawing and rubbing all over him…acting like a little bitch in heat. I knew you were lying about him.” 

I let out a shaky breath, “N-No…I didn’t lie. Nothing happened between us.”  

Both of his hands shifted from the wall to my throat, gripping firmly, “I don’t believe you.”  

I tried pushing him away, but he didn’t budge. Suddenly feeling defiant, I asked, “Are you forgetting the part where I caught you fucking your dance partner? I don’t give a damn what you believe anymore. You're a manipulative asshole.”  

His eyes darkened as a sinister smile spread across his face. His grip on my neck tightened, “Your behavior still has consequences ya know. If you wanna publicly shame me, I’ll turn this around on you so fucking fast. I’ll ruin you both.” 

His grip continued to tighten, causing me to claw at his hands. It was getting harder to breathe. 

“Alec, I…can’t….” 

His smile slowly faded, his eyes turning emotionless. This was different. For the first time, I was truly concerned for my safety. My eyes filled with tears as I gasped for air, desperately trying to loosen his hands or push him away, to no avail. The more I fought him the harder he squeezed. It didn’t take long for my vision to begin clouding with darkness around the edges and it was clear he had no intention of stopping. 

Next: Week 6

A/N: I am leaving this note from an undisclosed location to avoid the angry mob and pitchforks over that cliffy. 👀😂

So...BIG chapter. I think this may be the longest one I have ever done. I refused to break week 5 up into another section, so this is what you get. I hope you survived it...hopefully the subtle Dirty Dancing references kept you entertained. 😏

How do we think things are going with our two love birds so far? This chapter brought us lots of smut, more smut, flirting, and ridiculous cuteness during their last days in NYC. They are definitely going for it. I think Kat is going to learn a thing or two from Dieter, for sure.

We all knew Dieter would be a menace (shame on him for the SNL monologue change up), but did we expect Kat to be just as bad?

We got to see Kat get a little territorial over her man. Do we think she is going to get sick of people hitting on him at some point?

How about that bit with Kat mumbling in her sleep, did anyone see that coming after last chapter?

What do we think about Kat's new nickname?

And we got the Dieter/Zee reunion! We all knew she wasn’t going to let him off easy.

We all know Stacia and Joe are going to be up in their business after NYC. There will 100% be antics on Dieter and Kat's part when it comes to that. What do we think they are going to do?

We all knew Alec was going to continue to be a problem. Did you see that ending coming? How do you think this situation is going to go?

We are finally going to be moving into week 6 in the next chapter. We will pick up right where this chapter leaves off to cover the drama and fallout that follows. Then we will move into the Argentine Tango. There will be lots of bonding between Dieter and Kat, a Dieter therapy session, all the Latin dances are going to start catching up to Kat, and some dressing room antics. 😏

The video for this chapter comes from one of my fav couples on the show (seriously, they have so much chemistry and are very Dieter/Kat coded). It's pretty steamy. Check it out.

👉Click HERE for this chapter's rumba video.

👉If you're interested in hearing the song they are dancing to in week 5 and seeing the rumba in that video, you can view that HERE.

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[whatsnewalycat]

Once in a Blue Moon

One Shot // Dieter Bravo x HotelStaff!F!Reader

Description: You're the only person working when a Christmas blizzard rolls into town and snows you in with a notoriously difficult guest, Dieter Bravo.

Rating: E (Explicit 18+ Only)

Word Count: 12.9k+

Tags/Warnings: one shot, slight dub con elements (power imbalance, isolation, alcohol) although both parties are enthusiastically consenting, hotel guest x hotel staff, blizzard, Minnesota because that’s my best friend, dieter generally being an ‘if you give a mouse a cookie’ ass bitch, kinda enemies to lovers???, Christmas, loneliness, palm reading, food and eating, cannabis, conspiracy theory mention, fluuuuuufffff, smut, dirty talk, a dash of conflict, painting stuff, power outage, poverty mention

Note: Merry Crisis! This is part of a secret Santa gift exchange and a present for my dearest Syl (@all-the-way-down-here @im-sylien). I hope you enjoy!! Have an excellent holiday, friend ❤️🎄

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 23RD, 2:00 PM

“We are right in the bullseye for what people are already calling The Great Christmas Storm. Blizzard Warnings remain in effect throughout most of Minnesota until Tuesday morning. Forty to fifty mile-an-hour winds, combined with an anticipated twelve to twenty-four inches of heavy snowfall, are expected to create whiteout conditions, making travel dangerous or impossible in the Blizzard Warning areas. If you must travel—”

You kill the engine and look up through the windshield at Blue Moon Manor. The white exterior of the three-story Tudor Revival mansion seems to glow in contrast to the dark clouds hanging overhead. Some rich guy built it as a family home in 1905. It stayed in the family for over a century before a property management company scooped it up. Now the ornate family heirloom is a boutique hotel. Go figure. 

You open your car door and grab your backpack from the backseat, swinging it over your shoulder as you step out of the vehicle. As you walk up the path to the staff entrance, snowflakes start floating down from the gray, low-hanging clouds like teeny-tiny feathers, landing on your cheeks and nose, melting on impact. 

So it begins. 

You press your security code into the door lock, waiting for the quiet beep-beep-beep of approval before shoving the door open to the back office. 

Your coworker Jenna looks up at you when you enter giving you a nod of greeting as she zips up her jacket, “How is it out there?”

“Just starting,” you drop your backpack on the built-in bench and take off your stocking cap, shaking out your hair as you ask, “How’s it been here?” 

“Let’s just say I’m ready to go home and drink some wine,” she snorts, “Should be a piece of cake for you, though. 202, 203, and 101 checked out early because of the storm, and the check-in today cancelled.” 

“Storm of the century,” you mutter, “Merry fucking Christmas.”

“I hear it’s gonna get nasty. Do you really have to stay the whole time?” 

You wave her off as you peel off your jacket, “It’s fine.”

“I’m sorry I can’t cover some of the shifts.”

“Really, it‘s fine,” you insist while hanging up your coat, “Bossman said he’d pay me double time to stay ‘til he gets back to town.” 

“You’re goddamn right he’s gonna pay you double time.” 

Trying to change the subject, you go over to the daily checklist, “Ok, 202, 203, and 101 are gone,” you frown, running over your mental tally of guests, “So, what? Just 302?”

“Just 302. Lucky you.” 

“Yeah, lucky me,” you roll your eyes, then look out the window at the snowfall, heavier now, “You better head out before you get stuck here with me and Mr. Fluoride Mind Control.” 

“I suppose,” she sighs, grabbing her purse, “Well, have a Merry Christmas?”

“You too,” you smile and meet her eyes as she extends her arms and beckons you closer. You groan, but accept the hug, face pressing against her puffy winter coat. 

When she steps back and starts towards the door, she tells you, “Don’t have too much fun now.” 

“I’ll try not to,” you snort, “Merry Christmas.” 

“Merry Christmas,” she calls behind her as she opens the door, letting in an icy-cold draft of snowflakes before closing it behind her. 

You sigh and wiggle the mouse on the computer. The second you do, the service bell dings. 

“Fucking already?” you mutter to yourself as you follow the floorplan through the kitchen, into the formal dining room, then finally arrive at the archway to the parlor. 

You find the man staying in Suite 302 leaning against the grand piano, thrumming his fingers on the shiny surface. 

Wearing pajama pants and a grubby t-shirt, chestnut curls shooting up every which way, he sighs and taps the call bell again. The shrill ding makes your eye twitch a little, but you paste on an amenable smile, “Mr. Bravo, how can I help you?” 

He spins towards you and looks at you over his sunglasses, dark eyes flicking up and down your body before settling on your face, “Can I get some towels?”

“Of cour—”

“And can you do that thing where you fold them into animals?” 

You furrow your brow and tilt your head at him, lips parting to ask what he means, but he preemptively answers. 

“Some hotels fold them into swans or elephants or whatever. You know what I mean? Towel animals.” 

There’s no way he’s not fucking with you. 

“I, uhh…”

He raps a knuckle on the piano, then saunters off, calling back, “Thanks, you’re the best!”

You stand there for a moment, mouth agape as you watch him disappear up the stairs, thinking: No fucking way I’m doing that. 

And yet, half an hour later, you’re sitting in the back office watching a YouTube video on how to fold two towels into an elephant. 

Following along with the step-by-step, you make the legs. Easy enough. The head ends up looking like an uncircumcised cock with wings, though. You set it on top of the legs and take a step back, glancing between your creation and the video’s example. As a final touch, you stick a couple googly-eye stickers on it. 

“Good enough,” you sigh and tuck the microfiber monstrosity under your arm. 

When you arrive at Suite 302, you pause for a moment, turning your ear towards the door. You hear the old wooden floor creaking as he walks around humming to himself. It smells like paint and skunk spray. 

You swallow your buzzing nerves and knock on the door, fidgeting a little as you wait. 

Inside, a fit of coughing erupts, and he chokes out, “Hang—on—”

His footsteps squeak across the floor to the kitchen. Clink of glass. Water faucet. The coughing stops for a few silent seconds, then he groans and the footstep squeaks grow closer. 

A cloud of weed smoke bitch slaps you when the door to Suite 302 swings open. 

He frowns at you, crossing his arms in front of his broad chest as he leans against the doorframe, “Hey, uhhh…”

“I got your towels,” you smile, presenting the towel elephant to him. 

His eyes drop to the elephant, then he raises his eyebrows, “What is this?” 

“An elephant?”

He glances between you and the elephant, flattening his mouth into a line before telling you, “Looks like a dick and balls with googly-eyes.”

The force you use to hold down your laughter makes you snort. 

So fucking professional. 

Your eyes meet his. An amused smile graces his lips as he takes the elephant. 

“Anything else I can get for you?” 

“Yeah, can I, uhhh… can I get some snacks? Something sweet, something savory.”

“I’ll see what I can find,” you nod, peering over his shoulder into the hazy room, “Just a reminder, we don’t allow smoking.” 

“Oh, it’s not cigarette smoke.” 

“I can smell.” 

It goes straight from your brain out your mouth, drenched in sarcasm. So fucking professional. 

His eyebrows shoot up in a surprised expression. 

“I apologize, Mr. Bravo—”

“Oh, fuck that. Don’t,” he chuckles, waving off your stammering, “Call me Dieter, by the way. Mr. Bravo makes me sound like a fucking… karaoke machine.” 

“Ok,” you chuckle, then put your customer-facing demeanor back on and tell him, “I’ll go see what we have for snacks. Let me know if you need anything in the meantime.” 

He pushes off the doorframe, giving you a nod of acknowledgment as he steps back into Suite 302 and closes the door. 

You return sometime later with a silver serving tray hosting a variety of cheeses, dried fruit, olives, spreads, and crackers. When you knock, he hollers to leave it outside the door, so you do. 

The remaining daylight you spend cleaning. 

Blue Moon Manor has eight suites: one on the first floor, four on the second, and two on the third. Working from the bottom up, you rid the recently vacated units of dirty dishes and trash, then collect the linens and haul them up to the laundry room on the third floor. 

By this time, the serving tray you left outside Suite 302 has disappeared. The pot smoke, however, dissipated throughout the entire level. It seems even stronger than the last time you were up here. Almost like he completely disregarded your polite reminder of the no smoking policy. 

You decide to table the issue temporarily. If he was still smoking by the time you returned to take his dinner order, you’d remind him again. 

The prospect of confronting what your boss referred to as “a very important client” intimidates you, though, if you’re being honest. 

Not that you’re particularly intimidated by him as a person or anything. 

Sure, he has an IMDb page and some awards, but beyond that, he’s just another entitled guy. 

It’s more so the influence he has on your employment that intimidates you. Sometimes your feral mouth speaks before your poorly-domesticated brain can articulate a proper response. If you were to say something combative, and this guy complained to your boss, you’d probably lose your job—a loss you cannot afford. 

When it’s time to take his dinner order, you gather yourself before knocking on his door, repeating your script in your head as you wait. Then the door swings open and you’re absolutely blindsided. 

He answers while wringing his hair out with a towel. It’s one of the two you brought him earlier. You can tell because there’s still a googly-eye stuck to it, pupil shaking around inside its little plastic dome. The other towel clings to life around his waist, parting to show off a slice of his tan thigh. 

Regrettably, you follow your knee-jerk reaction to ogle him, looking him up and down before returning to his expectant eyes. 

This results in an uncomfortable staring contest, where you’re trying to make your mouth work and he’s trying to figure out what the fuck you want, as made evident when he asks, “Do you need something?” 

“Dinner,” you blurt out, then shake your head, “Sorry, I mean—What’ll you be having for dinner, Mr. Bravo?” 

“What’re the options?” 

“Chicken roulade or salmon.” 

He groans, throwing his hair-drying towel over his shoulder. 

“Do you guys have any normal food, or does it have to be upscale bullshit?” 

You pause to once again gather yourself, and in that two-second silence he decides, “I’ll take the chicken roulade.” 

“Dining room or room service?” 

He shrugs, looking over his shoulder into the suite, then back at you, “Dining room.” 

“Fabulous. While I’m here, can I take your tray from earlier?” 

“Let me get it,” he mumbles, closing the door. While he’s gone, you go over the lines you rehearsed, and when he opens the door to hand you the tray, you tell him, “Just as a reminder, we don’t allow indoor smoking—” 

“Look, usually I open the window and use a doob-tube, but, uhhh… the weather outside won’t allow it. I don’t want the wind to fuck up the crank windows.” 

“But still—” 

“And not that it’s any of your business, but I have a medical condition that I treat with cannabis. This is prescribed to me—”

“What? I’m not—”

“Besides, it should be legal—”

“Ok, you know what? Fine! Smoke away, but don’t be surprised when the manager fines you for it, plus the cost of extra cleaning charges.” 

He crosses his arms and straightens his spine, “I can live with that.” 

“Great,” you snip, taking a big step back, “Dinner will be ready at six.” 

He closes the door a little harder than necessary and you stomp down to the kitchen, fuming the whole way. 

Lucky for you, dinner prep involves flattening chicken breasts with a meat tenderizer, which helps tame your frustration. As you follow the recipe, sprinkling seasonings and feta cheese onto the breasts and rolling them up like neat little sleeping bags, potential consequences for your outburst run through your mind. Bad review, getting canned, all that. 

Maybe if you hadn’t been dealing with this guy’s shit for the past two weeks, you would’ve been able to handle the situation with a level head. But his haughtiness is fucking grating. He can’t just answer a question or make a simple request. It has to be a whole production that makes it clear: he thinks he’s better than you. 

By the time you finish cooking, though, you come to peace with the fact that you’ll probably have to kiss his ass to rectify the situation. 

When the grandfather clock in the parlor chimes six times, you plate the chicken roulade and bring it to the dining room, slightly surprised to see him already seated at the table. 

“Mr. Bravo,” you smile in greeting. 

“Dieter.” 

“Dieter,” you repeat as you set the plate down on his place setting, “Can I get you anything to drink? We have a Sauvignon Blanc that would pair well with the chicken—”

“I’ll take it.”

You go to the sideboard and find a bottle of wine. As you pour him a glass, he wrings his hands together and glances around, “Anyone else coming down?” 

“Just you.”

“What about you, where do you eat?” 

You shrug, setting the bottle down beside his glass, “In the kitchen.” 

“You could eat out here.” 

“Oh. It’s fine, sir. Really, I don’t mind.” 

His nose wrinkles up under his sunglasses and he shifts in seat. You study him for a moment, sensing an air of loneliness about him. 

“Unless you want me to join you.”

He shrugs, “Seems silly for both of us to eat alone.” 

“So true,” you nod, clasping your hands together, “I’ll uhhh… I’ll be right back.” 

When you return with your plate, you sit across the table from him. An uncomfortable silence settles in the room. The kind that makes your skin feel too tight and amplifies every little noise. The chewing, the utensils clinking, the wet swallows, everything seems ten times louder than reality. 

Clearly, it’s not just the two of you in this dining room. There’s a third guest, the giant invisible elephant wedged between you. 

He finishes his glass of wine and pours another, asking, “Do you want some?” 

“I… shouldn’t.” 

“Uh-huh,” he raises his eyebrows, looking at you over his sunglasses, “Do you want some anyway?”

You consider it, squishing your face to one side with indecision. 

“I won’t tell on you, sweetheart, I promise.” 

Your eyes flick to his, finding a sort of amused playfulness there. 

“Fine,” you smirk and push back your chair, going over to the wine cabinet to grab a glass, “Just one.” 

“No one’s twisting your arm about it.”

You return to your seat and reach across the table to grab the bottle, pouring only a small helping. 

“Cheers,” he holds up his glass. 

You mimic the sentiment and take a big sip, then tell him, “Mr. Bravo—”

“Dieter.”

“Dieter,” you nod, glancing at your wine glass, “I, umm… I apologize if I was rude earlier.” You meet his eyes and shrug, “If I’m being completely transparent, my boss will have my ass if the whole third floor smells like weed when he comes in next week.”

He watches you as he absorbs this, face inscrutable. 

“But if you want, I can show you the back patio. You can smoke out there all you want, I really don’t care about that part.” 

Leaning back in his seat, he takes a swig of wine, then says, “Fine.” 

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” you smile. 

“Uh-huh,” he sets down his glass, wiggling around a little as he tells you, “For the record, you weren’t being that rude. Well, maybe a little, but… I don’t mind. Suits you better than the bullshit customer service thing you do.” 

You blink at him, biting your tongue, then return to cutting your food and making small talk, “Well, I hope you didn’t have any big plans for the holidays. Traveling might be tough the next couple days.” 

He shakes his head, “Not doing it this year.”

“Not doing Christmas?”

“Nope. What about you? Do you celebrate Christmas? Any plans?” 

“You’re looking at ‘em,” you gesture around the room with your wine glass and take a sip.

“No shit, you have to work?” 

“I’ll be working until the storm passes. Tuesday at the earliest, by the sounds of it.” 

“Yuck. You guys have a staff bedroom, or do you get to stay in a suite?”

“I have my pick of the empty suites.”

He pokes the food on his plate with his fork, “Which one are you picking?”

You chuckle a little before answering. Maybe it’s your imagination, but you detect a certain vibe coming from him. Not only that, but he’s attractive in a way you’re not entirely immune to. 

“I think I’m gonna try a new one each night,” you tell him, “101 for sure, maybe 301 and 203. Not 201–“

“Oh well obviously, fuck 201.” 

“Obviously,” you laugh, shaking your head. 

He smiles at you, sparking heat at your center, then both return your attention to your food. The rest of the meal passes in a much more comfortable silence. Not wanting to overstay your welcome around a guest or veer further into unprofessionalism, you rise as soon as you finish. 

“I’ll get out of your hair, but if you need anything, ring the bell. I’ll be around.” 

“Sure,” he studies you over his sunglasses as you gather your dirty dishes, his jaw ticking back and forth, then he says, “Hey, thanks for keeping me company. It was nice.” 

You want to tell him you thought it was nice, too. Or maybe say something about how it felt like a mildly off-putting but not entirely unsuccessful first date. Not at all what you assumed it would be like. 

Instead, you give him a polite smile and nod, “Of course.” 

— 

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 23RD, 8:00 PM

DING 

You look up from the cribbage game on your phone at him, just a few strides away but apparently oblivious to your presence. He fidgets with the sleeve of his high-drama fuzzy jacket, shifting his weight from side-to-side. Waiting. 

“Hi—”

“Holy shit!” He startles, gripping his chest, “Where the fuck did you come from?”

Before you can stop it, you snort out a laugh, then cover your face reflexively, “I’m so sorry Mr.—”

“Dieter.”

“Dieter,” you nod as you rise to your feet, stuffing your wide grin into a neat smile, “How can I help you, sir?”

“Call me a fucking ambulance for the heart attack you just gave me,” he jokes, shaking his head, then takes a step towards you, “No, uhh… I was gonna step out to smoke, do you wanna join me?” 

“Oh—umm,” you chuckle a little, briefly considering the offer before politely telling him, “No, thank you.”

“You sure?” 

“I’m sure,” you glance down at his feet, clad in mismatched socks and crocs, “But here, let me clear off the back patio so you don’t have to stand in the snow.” 

He shrugs and follows you through the parlor into the dining room, where you tell him, “Just give me a minute, I’ll put my stuff on.”

“Take your time,” he murmurs, going over to the sideboard, “Is this fair game?” 

“Help yourself.” 

“Do you want one?” 

He flips over a lowball glass on display and sifts through the decanters of liquor, plucking out a bottle of finely aged whiskey. A drink sounds good. But the prospect of this virtual stranger fixing you a drink makes you uneasy. 

Does he know that it’s just you and him under this roof for probably the next few days? Between the offer to smoke you up and pour you a drink, is he intentionally trying to intoxicate you? Or is he just being cordial? 

You realize he’s staring at you, waiting for a response. Heat rises to your face. Shaking your head, you tell him, “I’m fine, thanks.” 

He uncorks the decanter and turns to pour whiskey into his glass, so you dismiss yourself to the back office. 

After bundling up in winter gear, you grab a shovel, then start towards the dining room. You stop short in the kitchen. The motherfucker walked right past the STAFF ONLY sign and started rummaging through the fridge. 

“You’re not supposed to be back here.” 

He glances back over his shoulder at you, “Why not?”

“Because—well, because—”

“Can you make me grilled cheese?” 

He straightens and closes the fridge door, turning to face you. You, clad in your coat and boots and hat and all that shit, holding a shovel, just blinking at him, mouth agape. 

“Right now?” 

His jaw shifts to one side as he genuinely considers the question. 

“Can I shovel first?” 

“Sure,” he shrugs. 

“Thanks,” you mutter, then trudge past him into the dining room. 

He follows along behind you, through the hall to the back door, asking, “Do you have tomato soup?” 

“Probably. Want some with your grilled cheese?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I’ll see what I can do.” 

When you twist the door handle and yank it open, a knee-high snow drift topples over at your feet. 

“Jesus Christ,” you hiss and flip on the outdoor light switch to peek outside. A strong gust of wind knocks you back a step, carrying a flurry of shimmering, swirling snowflakes. Your cheeks sting at the icy cold sharpness of it, eyes watering in protest. 

What a fucking nightmare. 

“Forget it,” you huff, slamming the door closed. You prop the shovel against it and turn to Dieter, pulling your gloves off, “I don’t care, can you just use the doob-tube and turn on the fan in the bathroom?” 

“The fan doesn’t work.” 

You release a big sigh, tugging off your hat as you lean on the wall and kick off your boots, “Of course it doesn’t. Alright, plan C.” 

—

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 23RD, 8:45 PM

The range hood’s fan roars to life. 

“Have at it,” you tell him as you walk over to the sink and unlock the window, pulling it up a few inches. 

Dieter pulls a palm-sized wooden container from his coat pocket and leans back against the stove, twisting the top open. A one-hitter pops up from one of the two barrels of the container. He takes it and stuffs it into the dugout, “So, what, we’re all trapped here until the storm passes?” 

You cross your arms in front of your chest and shrug, “Theoretically.” 

“Figures,” he mutters, then pinches the pipe between his lips. He pulls a pink lighter from the pocket of his fuzzy coat and brings the flame to the other end. The tip brightens to a glowing ember as he inhales. 

“I thought you didn’t have any plans.” 

He holds the smoke in his lungs and croaks out, “I don’t,” before turning to blow the smoke into the fan intake. 

“Are you upset that you’re snowed in with me?” 

“It has nothing to do with you, sweetheart” he glances at you, then takes another hit. 

“Ok, let me rephrase,” you shift, casting your gaze to the floor, trying to conceal the warmth blooming beneath your skin, “Are you upset that you’re snowed in?” 

He shrugs, “I don’t like being stuck places. Especially another fucking hotel.” 

“Whadda you mean?” you frown. 

Your question hangs in the air while he takes another hit. He grimaces and steps over to the sink beside you, tapping ash from the little metal pipe with his lighter, then returns to his place at the stove and packs another onie. 

“Did you ever watch the documentary Beasts of the Bubble?” 

You shake your head. 

“Don’t, it’s dogshit,” he snorts and takes another hit. On the exhale, he asks, “You know that I’m an actor, though, right?” 

You nod. 

“Right, well, long story short… Early COVID days, I was out in England shooting a movie and they wouldn’t let us leave the hotel.” 

You have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes, sensing heavy dramatics on the horizon. 

“They wouldn’t let you leave the hotel?”

“My friend—well,” he wrinkles his nose, “Yeah, my friend. She tried to escape, got her fuckin’ hand shot off.” 

“Holy shit, seriously?!”

“Yeah, Lauren Van Chance. Pow! Shot right off. Fucking brutal,” he shakes his head and takes another hit. As he blows the smoke into the fan, he coughs a little, then shakes his head, “Anyway—wait, why am I talking about this?” 

“Because we’re snowed in.” 

“Oh—yeah. I dunno, feeling like I can’t leave… my therapist said it’s a trigger, I guess.” 

“I get that,” you search his face, watching him frown at the one-hitter. Apparently satisfied with how stoned he is, Dieter releases a relaxed sigh and sets the onie down on the counter. 

“If it’s any consolation, I promise I won’t shoot you if you try to leave. Like… I don’t know, you might need some snow shoes or whatever, but you could—” 

He waves you off, “Eh, it’s fine. It’s just a thing, you know? Makes me feel all fuckin’ cagey and on-edge. Restless.” 

You lick your lips and nod, glancing at the floor before you look at him, “Anything I can do to help?” 

“Bud helps,” he shrugs, “Talking helps.”

“Does grilled cheese help?” 

It takes him a moment to understand what you’re asking, but when he does, he chuckles, “Grilled cheese is basically a fucking Xanax.” 

“Is that a good thing?” 

“Absolutely.” 

“Then let’s get you a grilled cheese.” 

—

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 24TH, 10:00 AM

“The Department of Transportation has declared a state of emergency, and urges people to shelter in place as snow will continue to fall in the Twin Cities and across most of central and southern Minnesota through tomorrow. Overnight, some places received as much as 10 inches, with 40 mile-an-hour winds creating drifts—”

DING

Regrettably, your heart skips a beat. 

You tuck your phone into the back pocket of your slacks and cross the kitchen, pushing through the swinging door into the dining room. When you get to the parlor, you find Dieter fiddling around with priceless antiques displayed on the shelves of an ornate built-in bookshelf. He glances over at you, “Hey.” 

“Good morning, did you sleep ok?” 

Nodding, he pulls his attention away from the bookshelf and takes a step towards you, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants, “Did I miss breakfast?” 

“No, what can I get for you?”

“Denver Omelet?” 

“Sure,” you clasp your hands together behind your back, “Hashbrowns? Fruit? Anything to drink?” 

“Yes, yes, and yes—coffee, water, orange juice with pulp.”

“Down here or in your room?” 

“Here is fine.” 

“You got it,” you smile, walking back to the kitchen. The creak of his footsteps mimic yours on the old hardwood floor, so you think he’s going to sit at the dining room table, but the duo whine of the swinging kitchen door takes you by surprise. 

You turn to face him, “Oh, you don’t have to—”

“May I?” He holds up the wooden onie box. 

“Sure,” you nod, clicking the range hood on, then go to crack the window open. 

The soft murmur of the radio fills the silence while you prep his breakfast and he smokes. You absentmindedly hum along to the Christmas music, dicing a green pepper, an onion, and some ham. By the time you approach the stove to start cooking, he’s tucking the paraphernalia away in the pocket of his pajama pants. 

“Have any big plans for the day?” He asks as he goes over to the coffee pot and pours himself a cup. 

“Ahhh, well… I think I’m gonna knock out some tasks that are hard to do when we’re busy. Inventory and deep cleaning, things like that. What about you?”

He shrugs, leaning back against the counter, “Gonna try to keep plugging away at painting ideas.”  

“Oh yeah? What’re you painting?” 

“It’s uhhh… it’s part of a series I’m working on, capturing the essence of interesting hotels across the country.” 

“Really? That’s—that’s actually really cool. I love that. And you chose Blue Moon Manor?”

“Well yeah,” he sighs, looking around, “It’s gorgeous. The original features are well-preserved, all the intricate woodwork and craftsmanship. It’s unique, I like it.” 

“I agree, it’s a special place.”

“I’m just… I don’t know, I’m stuck at the starting line, not sure what to paint. I haven’t found anything here that feels right yet.” 

You look between him and the menagerie of omelet fillings sizzling in the pan, “Have you seen any of the other suites?” 

“In pictures.” 

“If you want, I can show you around today? All the vacancies are made up pretty. You can poke around and see if you find any… I don’t know, inspiration, or whatever.” 

“Yeah?” He grins, “That would be… yeah, fuck yeah, that would be amazing.” 

—

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 24TH, 2:00 PM

You may be in trouble. 

Not the kind of trouble punishable by anyone but yourself, but still. 

What you mean is that you think you might have a crush on Dieter. Or, more honestly, what you mean is that you know you have a crush on Dieter. 

This revelation occurred to you about halfway through your impromptu tour of Blue Moon Manor.

You were standing in the sunroom of Suite 203 while he wandered around, jotting down notes and taking pictures on his phone. The snow fell heavy outside, coming down in thick wet clumps that made it difficult to see beyond the border of the property. Everything blanketed in a pristine, shimmering white. 

A deep sense of isolation plummeted your heart to your feet. Christmas Eve, when people all across the world gathered with loved ones, and you were working. Not that your empty one bedroom apartment missed you much. At least if you were there, you could lay in bed eating raw cookie dough while watching your comfort tv show. Throw yourself a proper pity party. 

So, there you were, wallowing in your circular loneliness, going around and around the drain of self-pity, when Dieter approached you. 

“Hey, you alright?” 

You snapped out of your trance and looked at him, finding something very earnest and knowing in his eyes. It surprised you. He didn’t strike you as the kind of person who generally cared about what others were feeling. 

“Yeah, just… thinking about how much I’m gonna have to shovel,” you chuckled, brushing off his concern. 

“Sorry, you just looked… I don’t know, kind of sad.”

“I’m fine,” you assured him with all the sincerity of someone whose pants were on fire. 

“Uh huh,” he studied you for a moment, then looked down at his phone and shook his head, releasing a big sigh, “I think I’m ready to move on.” 

“Alright, follow me,” you pushed off the window and walked past him. As you did so, you misjudged your space and brushed up against him. 

Pure negligence or subconscious desire, you’re still not sure, but the contact was a static shock. This quick jolt of heat that made you gasp and jump away from him, stammering, “Oh shit. Sorry, I, um—”

He chuckled, a handsome, dimpled smile stretching across his face, “It’s fine.” 

“I’m embarrassed,” you blurted out. As if it wasn’t obvious enough. 

“Don’t be,” he shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged, “Accidents happen.” 

“Ok,” you laughed and buried your heated face in your hands, then regained your composure and said, “Ok, let’s see Suite 201.” 

“Is that the shitty one?” 

“It’s not shitty,” you snorted, starting towards the door, “It’s perfectly fine, just not as glamorous as the rest of them.” 

“Uh huh. Like the ugliest Miss America contestant.” 

“Sure—”

“Or the uhh… the smallest blue whale.” 

“Yeah, I mean—”

“Suite 201 is to this hotel what Def Leppard is to glam rock.”  

“Wow, ok,” you laughed, ushering him through the doorway into the hall, “Yeah, I think you got it.” 

The whole dumb interaction is all you can think about. It plays over and over again. That look, the accident, Def fucking Leppard. The rush of excitement you feel when you see him or even just think about seeing him.

It is undeniable. 

You have a big fat crush. 

So fucking professional. 

For what feels like the hundredth time, you lose count. You toss your clipboard down on the stack of fluffy white towels in defeat, scrubbing your hands over your face. 

Maybe a cleaning project would be more productive. The first floor common rooms need dusting, or you could scrub the floors, or prep dinner, or blah blah blah… god, it all sounds so fucking boring. 

Curiosity prods your heart. 

You tiptoe through the laundry room, out into the third floor hallway, and linger there for an indecisive moment, listening to the low bass of his humming to himself and the thick pulse behind your ears. A few cautious steps towards Suite 302 reveals a DO NOT DISTURB sign hanging from the doorknob. 

Rejection takes the shape of a stone in your mouth, heavy and hard and cold as you swallow it down. It settles uneasy in your gut. 

Dusting it is. 

—

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 24TH, 6:59 PM

Every minute that drags on feels like an eternity. 

The grandfather clock in between the library bookshelves mocks you. 

Tick-tock-tick-tock

Begins to sound more like: 

He-doesn’t-like-you 

You glare at it, then down at your phone, swiping away a low battery warning to continue playing cribbage. 

Outside, the wind snarls. Blue Moon Manor groans in resistance, and you wriggle deeper into the sofa cushions, telling yourself: Five more minutes then I’ll check on him. 

It’s so dumb.

Really, you know how it sounds. 

But not once has he put out the DO NOT DISTURB sign. For two weeks, he has been consistently demanding, never letting more than three daylight hours go by without asking for something. 

As soon as you let yourself feel some affection for him? 

Can’t get far enough away from you. 

He-doesn’t-like-you-DING! DING! DING! DING!—

You sigh at the clock. 

��DING! DING! DING!

“Fuck’s sake,” you mutter.

The lights die. 

All white noise drops except the crackle of the fireplace, howling wind, and ticking clock. 

“Fuck.”

Two floors up, something clatters to the ground, then Dieter hollers something unintelligible. 

Well, he seems chipper. 

You climb off the couch while googling power outages in the area. 

Footsteps thud down the steps onto the first floor landing. 

“Hello?” 

“I’m in the library,” you call, not looking up from your phone as you text your boss. 

His steps draw closer, then there’s a light in the doorway. 

“This place is so fucking creepy in the dark, Jesus Christ,” Dieter hisses, “What’s the deal?” 

You squint up at his dim figure, “Storm took out the power. I texted the manager to see if there’s a genny.” 

“Genny?”

“Backup generator,” you turn on your phone’s flashlight, “Sorry for the inconvenience, I’ll go see if I can find some lighting if you wanna wait here—”

“I’m coming with you.” 

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, sir—”

He gestures for you to lead the way, so you start towards the back office with Dieter hot on your heels. Once inside, you go over to the desk and pull open a drawer, fish out a headlamp, and slide it around your head. When you press the on button, a beam of light shoots from your forehead onto the desk.

“Cute,” he teases. 

You look at him, unintentionally shining the light in his face.

He steps back and shields his eyes, “Jesus!” 

“Ope. Sorry sir,” you stifle a laugh, grab a second headlamp from the drawer, and hold it out to him, “Do you want one?”

Grumbling under his breath, he takes it from you and slides it over his fluffy hair, then turns the light on. 

“Ok, this is pretty sweet,” he admits as he starts wandering around the room, “I feel like a miner or something.” 

“There should be a tote in here somewhere that has a bunch of candles,” you tell him as you start rifling through cupboards. When the search comes up empty, you try the closet, where you find a big purple tote labeled CANDLES. 

“Here we go,” you pull the heavy container out into the room. 

“Want me to carry that?” 

The offer holds about as much conviction as a drain holds water. He leans back against the desk, plucks a pen from the pencil cup, and starts doodling on your daily checklist. Barely interested. 

“No, I got it.” 

You lift it and shuffle past him, slightly demoralized, then immediately bump into the doorway, “Oop.” 

His headlamp blinds you, making you wince, then he chuckles, “Here.”

Dieter pushes off the desk and steps towards you, laying a gentle touch to your shoulder. 

When you forfeit the tote, you notice the dark smudges dried onto his hands and forearms. 

“Were you painting?” 

“Yeah,” he awkwardly adjusts his grip, then starts back the way you came. You follow behind him, trying to aim your light at the ground by his feet. 

In the kitchen, he says, “It smells good in here.”

“Probably the roast I made for dinner,” you pause for him to maneuver through the swinging door into the dining room, “I can get some for you after we get the candles going.” 

He holds the door open with his foot and waits for you to pass through the threshold before setting the bin down on the dining room table. 

“Thanks,” you say as he steps aside. 

The white candles come in three shapes: pillar, votive, and stick. All of them unscented, so when you pop off the lid to the tote bin, the only thing you can smell is wax and dust and old flames. 

You grab a half-melted pillar and ask, “Hey, do you have a lighter?” 

He rummages through his pockets and pulls one out, then takes the candle from you. The flint sparks into a tiny flame that he holds up to the wick until it ignites, casting a warm golden glow onto the walls and ceiling. You pass him another pillar. The pads of his fingers brush against your hand when he takes it, sending your heart racing. 

“Hopefully this isn’t a uhhh… weird or alarming thing to ask—”

“Oh god, what?”

“Is there anyone else here?” He lights the pillar and hands it to you, “You’re the only other person I’ve seen around.” 

You take the lit pillar and set it down shrugging, “There, aren’t umm… no, it’s just me and you.” 

“Oh.”

Where hyper vigilance should be, that old warning to not take candy from strangers, or not to turn your back on a man you don’t trust, something hungry and loud starts to grow. A devastating need for him to creep closer. For him to cross the boundary of what might be considered moral or right in such a situation. To touch you in ways that inspire heat between your thighs. 

He doesn’t, though. 

He just helps you light candles and strategically place them around the common rooms on the first floor, uncharacteristically reserved. You both remain quiet while you go about doing this, but the silence isn’t entirely uncomfortable. It’s the kind of silence that feels more like a peace treaty than a punishment. 

Your phone buzzes with a notification, and you pull it out, reading the text message out loud, “We don’t have a backup generator.”

“Shit.” 

“And power might be out until Tuesday.”

“Tuesday? Are you fucking serious?” 

“I apologize, sir—”

“Don’t do that,” he scoffs, shaking his head, “That whole… hospitality voice thing.”

The words come out sharp and bitter. 

Your blood pulses hot, and you hear yourself say, “I’m a hospitality worker, exactly what tone of voice do you expect I use?” 

“Like I’m a person, not a fucking client or whatever. I’m so sick of that shit, everywhere I go people kissing my ass,” he goes to the sideboard and flips over a glass, pouring whiskey while attuning his voice to a feminine, mocking tone, “Oh, Mr. Bravo, sir yes sir, do you need anything? Do you want a snack or a nap, do you need to be swaddled, do you want your dick sucked?”

He pauses to take a swig of the liquor. 

Meanwhile, steam might as well be coming out of your ears. Just fucking boiling with rage, needling the red danger zone. 

“I hate it. You all talk to me like I’m a goddamn toddler, it’s so fucking annoying—”

“Oh, fuck off. I’m annoying?” 

He leans back on the sideboard and blinks at you, swirling the whiskey in his glass. 

Stomping over to the liquor display, you pour a drink and seethe, “Ever think that maybe if you didn’t act like a fucking toddler, people wouldn’t treat you like one? I mean, for Christ’s sake, dude. You literally take a nap every afternoon and demand we cut the crust off your sandwiches. Last week you threw a temper tantrum because we put tap water in your sippy cup.” 

“Ok, first of all that was a water bottle. And, have you ever tasted the water here? It’s disgusting. Not to mention the fucking—”

“The fluoride, I know,” you roll your eyes, “I know I know I know. It’s gross and contains fluoride and tastes like blood or whatever the fuck—”

“I did not say it tasted like blood,” he quips, pauses to take a sip, which you mimic, then he adds, “It does, though, for the record.” 

“My point is that… If everywhere you go smells like shit, maybe you should look under your own shoe. You dig?” 

For a moment, you can’t read him. He stares down into his glass, twisting his wrist around in a way that draws attention to the thick-banded rings on his fingers. Then he glances up at you, a smirk playing on his lips, “That’s perfect. Can you just talk to me like that from now on?” 

Your head jerks back, and you let out a little scoff, “What, like a bitch?” 

“No,” he chuckles, “Like… I don’t know. Real. Real-er, anyway. You seem cool. You, though. Not your toothless, sanitized worksona.” 

“Jesus,” you scoff into your glass, shaking your head, “I’m not sure what to say to that.” 

“Anyway. I just mean… talk to me like I’m a person, not a fucking guest or whatever.” When you look up at him, he shifts a little and adds, “Please.”

You hold his gaze long enough for your stomach to flip, then chicken out, dropping your eyes to your glass, “Sir yes sir.” 

He lets out a chuckle, shaking his head, “Uh-huh.” 

You appraise the remaining whiskey in your glass, then tip it back, wincing at the burn as you set the glass down. 

“Do you want me to bring some candles up to your room, or will you be dining down here?” 

“Will you be joining me?” 

“Do you want me to?” 

“Yeah, of course,” he shrugs, “If you’re not busy.”

“I think I can squeeze you in,” you tease. 

His tongue pokes out to wet the seam of his lips, then his smirk breaks out into a big, boyish smile, “You think so, huh?”

The innuendo makes itself clear. Your face heats up and you snort, “Shut up.”

“Hey, you said it, not me,” he raises his hands defensively, following you as you start towards the kitchen, “Is it cool if I smoke?” 

You push through the swinging door, holding it open for him, “I can’t turn the fan on.” 

“Uh-huh,” he ambles over to the counter beside the sink and casually hops up onto it, “Is that a yes or a no?” 

After taking a moment to weigh the pros and cons, you sigh, “Just… blow it out the window, ok?” 

So he smokes while you pull the roasting pan from the oven and prepare two plates, piling on potato wedges and green beans and hearty slices of roast beef. You wrap up your activities simultaneously, then move back to the dining room. 

While you set the table, he goes over to the wine cabinet and asks, “Wine?” 

You hesitate, once again contemplating the pros and cons of answering in the affirmative. If the wine goes to your head, you could make a mistake. On the other hand, maybe it would help untangle your knotted stomach. Make it easier to converse with him. 

“Don’t feel like you have to say yes,” he adds when he notices your trepidation. 

“Fuck it, why not?” 

So fucking professional.

With his back turned to you, he surveys the bottles displayed in the wine cabinet, “Pinot? Cab?”

“Actually, I was thinking of breaking out the 2016 Cos d'Estournel.” 

He looks over his shoulder at you, “The what?” 

“Left side, second row from the bottom,” you point to it from across the room, “Dark bottle, white label.” 

Once he finds it, he lifts it from the rack and studies it, “Cos d'Estournel. Ritzy stuff,” he sets it on the table between your seats, “What’s the occasion?” 

“What is this, a role reversal?”

He grins at this. Then, as if committing to the bit, he strides over to pull out your chair. When you raise your eyebrows at him, he smirks, “Humor me.” 

You roll your eyes a little as you sit down, but truthfully, your heart stutters. 

Dieter walks back to the cabinet and picks out two wine glasses, “So? The occasion?” 

“I don’t know,” you frown, “Well, I mean, I do know, but it’s hard to explain.” 

He doesn’t say anything as he twists a corkscrew into the wine bottle and yanks out the cork, then pours the rich red wine into one glass, and the other. 

“It’s just… I don’t think I’ve been in a situation like this before. It’s strange. The storm, the holiday, the manor, the-the you.” He smirks, sliding a wine glass over to you, and you give him a nod of thanks, “I feel like anything could happen or nothing at all and I wouldn’t be surprised either way.” 

Again, he doesn’t respond, but a thoughtful expression creases his face as he takes the seat across from you. Not sure what to make of it, you ask, “Does that make sense?”  

“I know what you mean, yeah,” he leans back in his chair and swirls the wine around in his glass, meeting your eyes from across the table, “The possibilities within the confines of these walls are endless.”

The way he looks at you conjures impure thoughts. Hand between your thighs, nails digging into his back. Bending you over the table and pulling your hair. 

You raise your glass in the air, “To the possibilities.” 

“To the possibilities.” 

—

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 24TH, 9:30 PM 

You sit at either side of the lush Victorian sofa in the library, cashmere blankets draped over each of your legs. Illuminated by the warm glow of candelabras and the crackling fireplace, you flip through a book on palm reading while Dieter draws in a sketchpad. 

For a while, he seemed quite engrossed in the project. Brow furrowed, hunched over the pad of paper as he scribbled. But with each monotonous tick-tock-tick-tock from the grandfather clock, he starts to stir more and more. 

He finally tosses the sketchpad down beside him, leaning back and letting out a long groan, “I’m so boooorreeeeed.” 

“Drama,” you tease, peeking over your book at him, “Can I do anything to help?” 

“Can I open another bottle?” 

“Go for it.” 

Dieter jumps to his feet and clicks on his headlamp. The dancing beam of light fades out of sight as he walks into the hallway. 

With a sigh, you look down at the book and try to continue reading, but keep losing your spot. Your attention instead is drawn to the fireplace. Its flickering flames seem to pull you into some kind of a trance, coaxing out bite-sized daydreams and nightmares, trying to predict what will happen when you and your fresh new crush start drinking in the dark. 

What happens if we get drunk? Would we fuck? Would we fight? Would he be mean? Or pushy? Would I make a fool of myself? 

You sit here for a while, letting these tiny fires burn out in your brain, so engrossed that you barely notice Dieter mosey back into the room. 

“Hope wine is ok,” he says as he clicks the headlamp off, then he sets out two wine glasses and a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon on the coffee table. 

“Of course, sir.” 

He snorts and shakes his head while leaning over to twist a corkscrew into the bottle. 

“Sorry. Habit.” 

“Don’t sweat it, sweetheart,” he yanks the cork from the bottle, then pours out two servings, “What’ve you there?” 

“Hmm?”

“The book.”

“Oh,” you hold it up to show him the cover, “Cheiro’s Palmistry for All.” 

He holds out a glass to you. You set the book aside and take it from him, crossing your legs to get more comfortable. 

“Palm reading?” 

“Yeah,” you chuckle, “I don’t know, it seemed interesting.“

“Have you ever been to a palm reader?” 

Shaking your head, you take a sip of wine. Then another. A warm buzz tingles on your tongue and you ask, “Have you?” 

He nods, “Yeah. Well, kind of. I dated this girl who dabbled in divination,” he takes a big gulp of wine, then sets his glass on the coffee table and moves closer, gesturing for your hand, “Here.” 

“You know how?”

“I picked up on some stuff,” he shrugs. 

Leaning forward, you place your glass next to his and bring yourself closer, extending your hand to him.

He holds it like a fragile thing, gentle but steady, “Is this your dominant hand?”

You nod. 

Smoothing a thumb over your palm, he coaxes you to unfurl your fingers. His skin is warm and soft on yours as he examines you, thick fingers tracing the creases of your palm. 

It feels nice. Intimate, almost. No thanks to the wine and ambient lighting. 

“This side shows your conscious mind. Your life right now,” he clears his throat and says, “You’re perceptive, intuitive, a little moody. Emotions tend to run the show, but you’re also a realist. You have a passion for life and adventure, but often find yourself paralyzed by the reality of your situation, leaving you in a constant state of dissatisfaction. Logical, hard-working. You’re independent. You’ve had financial and emotional hardships. Not many serious romantic relationships, mostly flings. But this doesn’t mean you don’t get attached easily. You do, but tend to put up walls to protect yourself and disconnect before it gets too serious.”

Static vibrates through your skin. An eerie, frantic feeling of being seen too close for comfort. You swallow hard and study his face, too afraid to confirm or deny its accuracy. 

“Cup your hand,” he instructs, guiding your hand to do so. Furrowing his brow, he examines the soft fleshy bits on your palm, poking and prodding them, “You have a temper, but you’re shy. You’re cynical. Closed-off. Reliable, because you have to be, but you wish you could just say fuck it and run away sometimes. That’s umm… that’s who you are in practice. Other hand.” 

You give him your non-dominant hand. It’s shaky and sweaty and as he takes it you chuckle, “Sorry, I’m… nervous.” 

Grinning, he glances up at you, “So I’m doing well, then?” 

“Yeah,” you gulp, heat rising to your face, “It’s… yeah. Hang on, can I…?”

You take your hand back and wipe it on your pant leg, then reach over to grab your wine glass, swallowing the remainder of your wine. He does the same, then refills them. 

While this is happening, you can’t help but notice the thick current of electricity pulsing between you. 

You take turns stealing fleeting glances, and when you return to face each other, legs crossed, you’re much closer than you were before. Your knees meet his, maybe probably definitely crossing the line of what is considered appropriate distance for you to have with a hotel guest. Neither of you seem to mind, though. 

In fact, it seems like quite the opposite. 

As you extend your non-dominant hand to him, he huddles even closer, so close you can smell the Bordeaux on his breath, and cradles your hand in his. 

“This side shows your natural tendencies. Who you are in theory, who you will be if you follow your intuition,” he murmurs, eyes flicking to yours, then back to your palm as he slides his index finger along a deep, diagonal crease, “First of all, your fate line is strong. If you follow your intuition, you’ll succumb to it.”

“Ominous.”

He frowns and shakes his head, reverentially tracing the sensitive map of your palm, “No, actually. You’ll have a crisis or two. One big one, at least, some kind of a revelation that causes you to upend your life. But it sets you on a path of vitality and happiness and strength. A few smaller ones, not as momentous, but still significant. The hopeless romantic you are, you’ll fall in love hard and fast, but that’s the one that sticks. You freely express your emotions and feelings. It’s… I mean, it seems good. Who wouldn’t want that? Cup your hand for me, sweetheart.” 

You do. 

He smooths his thumb over the mounts and divots, tilting his head at them, “You’re stubborn and you have a strong sense of self. Hedonistic. Imaginative. You daydream a lot. I don’t think you’re as reserved and shy as you let on. Maybe it’s a defense mechanism you learned along the way.”

You look up at him, finding his eyes locked on yours. A deep longing bubbles up your spine and you feel yourself lean in a little closer. He continues caressing your hand, dropping his gaze to your mouth, and asks, “Do you want my advice?” 

“Sure.”

“I think you should follow your intuition. See where it takes you. I think… you need to let go of whatever reservations you have from the past, because it’s holding you back from a beautiful life.” 

There’s a part of you that boils red and hot with denial. It screams from the back of your head that this is all bullshit, he’s just trying to fuck you, to use because he’s bored and tipsy. 

But really, you know he’s right. 

You know you’re dissatisfied with your white-knuckle, fake smile existence. You ignore your desires and inner-most knowing in favor of security. You attribute more weight to the negatives than the positives in every aspect of your life. 

“You’re saying I should follow my gut?” you ask, studying his face. 

He brushes your palm with his thumbs, “Yeah. I think so.” 

You look down at his touch, hesitantly bringing your unoccupied hand to his forearm, allowing yourself to feel his warmth, “But what if it’s wrong? What if I make a mistake?” 

“But what if it’s right?” 

Meeting his eyes, you recognize the longing in his heavy-lidded gaze. You bring your hand to his cheek, sliding your thumb across his patchy facial hair, heart pounding, nerves buzzing as you close your eyes and lean in.

His soft lips meet yours. A gentle, questioning kiss that flips your stomach upside down. You pull back to make sure it’s ok. He seems to do the same, dark eyes flicking around your face before slipping a hand behind your head and pulling you back in. 

The second kiss holds more conviction. A spark that ignites you both, quickly leading to the third and fourth kiss, at which point they start to blend together, a mess of tongues and spit and gasps. 

You climb onto his lap, straddling him, pressing your body onto his. Through the fabric of his pajama pants, you feel his hardened excitement and use it to your advantage, rolling against him to gain friction. He grabs your hips and rocks them in sync with your movements, groaning into your mouth. 

Heat builds steady at your core, tingling and gushing through your veins, screaming for more more more. Aching to feel the warmth of his skin on yours, you slip your hands under the hem of his shirt and slide your palms up his back, pulling him closer. 

He parts from your lips to take off his shirt. You do the same, unbuttoning your shirt and tossing it aside, then reach back and claw at your bra clasp. 

“Let me,” he signals for you to turn around. You do, climbing onto your knees with your back facing him. His fingers ghost along your spine, leaving a trail of twitching, hungry nerves in their wake. 

“That feels good,” you tell him, arching your back with a whine. 

“Good,” he murmurs, continuing the tedious touch, “I wanna make you feel so fucking good, sweetheart. Is that what you want?” 

“Yes.”

When he unclasps the bra, you slip it off while he slides a hand around your belly and pulls you back into his lap. 

He leaves a trail of kisses from your shoulder to the nape of your neck, where he stops to massage his tongue against you. A moan erupts from your throat at the tingling, hot sensation it cultivates. His hands roam around your body, over your breasts and ribs and abdomen, activating all those often-neglected nerves, but never staying long enough to bring relief. 

“Fuck, Dieter,” you whine, “You’re teasing me.” 

“Maybe,” he chuckles, smoothing a palm up your sternum and urging you to lay back onto his chest. You follow the suggestion and recline against him, head resting on his shoulder. Your skin buzzes where it meets his, the warmth of him flooding your brain with feel-good chemicals. He drags his fingers along the soft skin of your belly, making you whimper.  

“But it feels good, doesn’t it?”

You nod.

“Don’t you want to savor it?” He cups your breasts and rolls your nipples between his fingers and thumbs, sending a rush of pleasure to your head, “Don’t you want me to show you how good it feels when you finally let go?”

“Yes,” you gasp, nodding, eyelids fluttering closed, “I want it, I want it—”

“Good,” he coos, pinching your nipples harder, “I want it too. Wanna see you fall apart in my hands. Will you let me do that for you, sweetheart?” 

“Yes.” 

He releases your tits and tugs at the waistband of your pants, “Take these off for me, will you?” 

You roll off the couch onto your feet, facing him as you slowly tug at your waistband, teasing every inch of skin you reveal. He watches you with lust-blown eyes, palming himself as he drinks in the spectacle. 

“Underwear too?”

He nods. 

You hook your thumbs under the soft fabric of your bikini, “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“I wanna see it.” 

“You wanna see it,” he mutters, chuckling a little, “Ask and you shall receive, Princess.” 

He shimmies out of his pajama pants, keeping his eyes on yours as you slide the underwear down your thighs. His thick, hard cock bobs out and waves hello. 

“Fuck,” he sits up and rests his warm palms on your hips, glancing between you and your cunt, “Look at this pretty pussy, holy shit. Come here, baby. Come sit on my lap again.” 

“If I sit on your lap, will my Christmas wish come true?” 

“Maybe,” he smirks and leans back onto the sofa, tugging on your hand to follow. You turn around and carefully lower yourself onto his thighs, his knees between yours. Guiding you closer, he murmurs in your ear, “Tell me what you want, sweetheart, I’ll see if I can make it happen.” 

You lay back on his chest, once again letting your head rest on his shoulder, and stroke his cheek as you tell him, “I want you to touch me.”

“I can do that,” he chuckles, kissing your forehead as his hands begin to wander, sliding down your sides to your hips and thighs, between your legs to pry them apart, “There we go, baby.”

When he touches your entrance, you both groan. His cock twitches against your back. He drags his fingers up and down your seam, spreading your slick, hissing in your ear, “Fucking soaked for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“Uh-huh,” you whimper, nodding, watching  him pet your swollen clit so soft and slow it sends sparks of need up your spine, “That feels so fucking good holy shit—”

“Yeah? You like the way I play with your sweet little cunt?” 

“Oh my god—I do, Dieter, I do.” 

A feral noise rumbles in his chest, and his fingers pick up speed, working in quick, tight circles as he pants in your ear, “I love it when you say my name. Sounds so fucking good on your lips. Say it again for me, baby.” 

“I love the way you touch me, Dieter, please don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t fucking dream of it, sweetheart. I just wanna make you feel good, make you feel so fucking good—”

You moan when he sinks one thick digit inside you, making your body buzz with pleasure. Your eyes flutter shut and you reach back, blindly carding your fingers through his hair, caressing his cheek, his neck, tugging on his earlobe, anything you can do to ground yourself and somehow repay the ecstasy accumulating thick and hot inside your belly. 

He kisses your palm and asks, “Do you want more?”

A sort of strangled noise comes out of you, but you nod in the affirmative, and he obliges, sliding another finger inside you. They rut in and out at a steady pace, keeping tempo with his undulating touch on your clit. Heat branches out at the center of you, coursing through your veins, making your heart race.

You gasp and nod, “Keep doing that, Dieter, don’t stop please don’t stop holy shit—”

“You gonna cum for me, baby, hmm? Cum all over my fucking fingers?” 

“Yes yes yes yes yes—”

Your whole body clenches as the feeling grows and grows, reaching a precipice.

“That’s it, sweetheart, let it go,” he pants in your ear, and when you plummet over the edge, whole body twitching with blinding pleasure, he coos, “Theeere we go—”

You whimper and clamp your legs shut, letting out a series of gasping breaths as the waves of your orgasm pulse, then start to peter out. Your tensed muscles go limp, and you open your eyes to look up at Dieter, “Jesus Christ.” 

“Yeah?” 

He gives you a boyish grin that makes your chest swell with desire. You sit up and turn around to face him, straddling his lap with his cock pressed hard against your wet, throbbing pussy.

Tracing the curve of his lips, you purr, “I have another Christmas wish.”

“What’s that?”

You roll your hips, gasping at the pressure of him against you, “I want you to fuck me.”

He moans, eyelids fluttering and lips parting, head falling back against the sofa as he grabs your hips and silently urges you to keep going. You whimper and start to move to the rhythm of his suggestion, sliding up and down his length. 

“Wanna feel your cock inside me,” you breathe, brushing his cheek with your knuckles, meeting his dark, wanting eyes, “Want you to stretch me out and make me yours—”

“Holy fucking shit—”

“Do you want that?” you coo, searching his face. 

“God yes, please, baby.” 

You situate the tip of him at your entrance and hook your hands behind his head, then lower yourself down. 

The stretch of him is exquisite. He activates every nerve ending he touches with an aching, hungry need. Your mouth falls open with gasping breaths and pathetic little whimpers, and you hear Dieter groan, “So fucking tight, Jesus Christ—”

“Feels so goooood,” you croak, closing your fists in his hair. 

He sucks in air through clenched teeth, digging his fingers into the meat of your ass, and rocks you back and forth, each thrust rubbing along something absolutely devastating. You blink your eyes open to meet his, all lust-blown and wide with awe, searching your face. His hand slides up to your face, cupping your cheek, brushing his thumb against your heated, damp skin. 

“Kiss me,” he pants, reeling you in. 

You fold over on top of him, meeting his lips with desperate urgency, a frantic exchange of messy kisses marked with gasps and moans. As the heat in your belly grows, you roll your hips faster, and he thrusts up into you, parting from your lips to growl, “You take my dick so well, sweetheart—that sweet pussy feels so fucking good wrapped around me, oh my fucking god—”

“Feels so fucking good, Dieter, don’t fucking stop,” you whimper, pressing your forehead against his, nodding in approval as he grabs your hips and fucks up into you hard and fast, “Oh my god, just like that baby yes yes yes—”

He captures your lips in his and you both moan into the heated, needy kiss, static building and building, spreading hot from your center. It feels so fucking good your eyes start to tingle and swim with tears, and you cry, “I’m gonna fucking cum, don’t stop—”

“That’s it baby, just let go, let it go, let me feel you—”

“So fucking good—Ffffuck—”

The force of your climax steals your breath, ecstasy pulsing liquid static through you, then yanks you down from the clouds and sends you crashing into the earth. Your body convulses and you let out a choked sob. 

“Oh my god—oh my god, fuck,” his hips stutter and he pulls out, stroking his cock to completion, shooting hot ropes of cum onto your bodies with a moan. 

Both of you remain rigid for a few moments, chests heaving, silently reveling the sweet rush of release before going slack. You collapse on top of him, eyes closed, and release a content sigh as you play with the damp curls at the nape of his neck. 

He hums and wraps his arms around your middle, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, “How do you feel?”

“Amazing,” you chuckle, “Wow.” 

“Wow is right,” he snorts, then pets your hair and asks, “Any other Christmas wishes?” 

After thinking about it for a few seconds, your lips part with an answer, but you chicken out and close them. 

“Hmm?” 

“It’s dumb.” 

“Uh-huh,” he pulls back to meet your eyes, “Tell me anyway.” 

You chuckle a little, tracing his jawline, “It’s ok.” 

He just blinks at you, waiting, so you swallow and shrug, “I don’t want to sleep alone.” 

He hums, pressing a kiss into your forehead, then your cheek, “Do you wanna spend the night with me?” 

“Is that weird?” 

“I don’t think so. Do you?”

You shake your head. 

His gaze drops to your mouth, and you lean in to kiss him. It’s warm and soft and sparks hopeful optimism in your chest, like this is something and not nothing. 

When he pulls back, a sly smile spreads across his face, “Your place or mine?” 

—

MONDAY, DECEMBER 25TH, 8:00AM

When you wake in Suite 203, it takes a moment for the events of the previous night to catch up to you. 

The power going out, the candlelit dinner, the palm reading, the best fucking sex you’ve had in your life. 

Was it a dream? Did that actually fucking happen? 

But when you hear rustling from the other side of the bed, and feel an arm slip around your waist, pulling you back into his chest, reality punches you in the gut. 

You stay still and wait for Dieter’s breath to fall back into a pattern of soft snoring, then slip out of bed and take a shower. With the power still out and the blizzard still raging outside, it takes a bit of guesswork to navigate the process in the dim bathroom, but you emerge successful. 

When you tiptoe back into the bedroom, Dieter is still sleeping. You get dressed and go downstairs to make some coffee and think about your decisions. 

For an hour or so, you pace around the kitchen island, ruminating over the things he said to you, the things you said to him, the way he made you feel, and the reality of your position in life versus his. 

What felt good and right last night takes a different appearance in the harsh light of day. He could hurt you in so many ways if he wanted to. He could get you fired. He could be using you. He probably doesn’t actually care about you, he was just bored and horny and you were wrong this isn’t something, it’s nothing and you’re no one—

“Hey.” 

You freeze and look up at Dieter, standing by the fridge in a soft chartreuse bathrobe. 

“Hey,” you flash a nervous smile and wave, “How’d you sleep? Can I get you some coffee, anything to eat?” 

He frowns, squinting at you, “Why’re you doing that?” 

“Doing what?” 

For a few seconds, he just stares at you, letting tension twist your guts to shreds, then he drops his gaze to the floor and nods, “Ok. Ok sure.” 

Your whole body turns to cement. Cold and heavy and unmoving. 

He walks over to the French press and pours a cup of coffee, “So… you’re having some regrets, and you’re gonna go back to this now? Miss hospitality?” 

You swallow down a feeling like fire, avoiding eye contact as your vision blurs with tears, “I don’t know, I’m just… I’m just kind of freaking out, I guess?” 

“What’re you freaking out about?” 

“I guess it’s just that you were right,” you shrug, wiping at your eyes, “You know, with your palm reading. I get attached easily and, I don’t know… I don’t wanna scare you away because, umm… yeah.” 

When he doesn’t say anything, you glance up at him, finding a warm smile on his face. Surprised at the expression, you sniffle, “What?” 

He approaches you, still smiling, “Because you like me?” 

Heat rises to your face. You hold his gaze, watching him lean back on the counter beside you, and you mumble, “Maybe.” 

His smile grows wider, digging out dimples in his cheeks, “Yeah? Maybe a little bit?”

You shrug. 

“And you think that’s gonna freak me out?”

Again, you shrug. 

“Come here, sweetheart,” he murmurs, tugging on your hand. A fresh wave of tears floods your eyes when he wraps his arms around you, stroking your back as he assures you, “I like you too.” 

“You do?” 

“Cross my heart.” 

“You’re not gonna get me fired and ruin my life?” 

“What? No—I mean, I hope not. Unless your boss somehow finds out you got dicked down in the library—”

You laugh through the tears, “Oh my god, that would be a fucking nightmare.” 

He chuckles, pulling back to look at you. You hook your hands behind his head, and the two of you stare at each other for a few seconds, humor fading from your faces, then you whisper, “This is… this is something, though, right? I’m not crazy?” 

“I think it’s something,” his eyes flit around your face, and he shrugs, “You know, I’m a lot like you. I, umm… I tend to keep people at a distance, because I fall easy and hard and yeah… it’s scary. But, I don’t know. I have a good feeling about you.” 

You nod, glancing down at his mouth, “Intuition?” 

“Yeah,” he smirks, leaning in closer. His lips press against yours, giving you a slow, tender kiss that blossoms in your heart. 

When you pull back, he tells you, “I do have one immediate problem, though.” 

“What?” 

“I don’t know how to ask you to make me breakfast without sounding like an asshole.” 

“Like that’s ever stopped you before.” 

“Wow. That’s it, I’m docking a star from my review.”

“Uh-huh,” you grin, running your fingers through his messy hair, “I cannot imagine what your review of this place would be.”

He takes a deep breath, then puts on an infomercial voice and says, “Four out of five stars. Gorgeous building, the food is amazing. Truly unique place. One of the employees let me eat her pussy for breakfast—”

You snort with laughter. 

“—could not recommend enough. Deducted a star because she said I was an asshole.” 

“Lovely, but you did not eat my pussy for breakfast. I’m sure I would’ve remembered that.” 

“Not yet I didn’t,” he waggles his eyebrows at you, sneaking a few kisses as he herds you backwards onto the kitchen counter. 

—

MONDAY, DECEMBER 25TH, 6:00PM

After breakfast—real breakfast, not oral sex in the kitchen, which was a treat in itself—Dieter went up to Suite 302 to finish the painting he wasn’t able to finish yesterday. 

On paper, you had a very busy day. Your daily checklist gives you credit for every single item and some extras. 

In reality, you cleaned up the messes made yesterday, which mostly involved washing dishes and following a wiki-how on getting cum out of velvet, and put together a charcuterie board for whenever dinner would happen. 

With the remaining daylight hours, you laid on the chaise in the parlor, then the bed in Suite 203, and flipped through books of poems, and successfully resisted your many urges to disrupt Dieter’s work. 

The snow stopped overnight, but the blizzard continued to howl all day. Strong gusts whirled the freshly-fallen snow through the air like some kid shaking up a snow globe. But when sunlight started to fade, so did the wind. Everything settled in its place, and the thick blanket of white finally became distinguishable from the nighttime sky. 

Inside Blue Moon Manor, Dieter completed his painting, then crawled into bed with you. Apparently it had been just as difficult for him not to disrupt his own work. 

He said he thought about you all day. He said he wanted to say fuck it and put the painting on pause to spend time with you, but felt he needed to finish it. He wanted to show it to you after dinner. 

Naturally, your nerves have been buzzing since. 

You insisted on an earlier dinner, blaming the lack of a lunchtime meal, but the look on his face when you made the argument made it clear he could see right through you. He didn’t mind, though. He helped you pour out glasses of wine to pair with the charcuterie board, then the two of you set everything up beside the fireplace in the parlor and fucking demolished it. 

Afterwards, you washed the dishes while he smoked pot by the window. You didn’t even care if your boss smelled it anymore. It seemed trivial. 

As Dieter tucks away his onie-box in his pocket, you recount the thought to him. He hops down off the counter and scoffs, “I mean really, what would he do? Fire you?” 

“I don’t think he even can. There are three people that work here, and I am by far the most reliable.” 

“I believe it,” he takes your hand, leading you from the kitchen to the dining room, “Tell you what, if my smoking gets you fired, you get to stay here with me and make his life hell.” 

You laugh at this, shaking your head, “Yeah, ok.” 

He turns around, “What, you don’t believe me?”

“No, I believe you. I just think it’s the kind of bet someone knows they’ll win.” 

“And winning in this case would be, what? You keep working this dead-end job while I drive myself crazy thinking about you?”

“Hey—it’s a good job,” you release his hand and cross your arms in front of your body. 

“No, that’s not—” he sighs, glancing around as he shifts his weight from side-to-side, “It’s a fine job, I just mean… I don’t know what I mean. I mean I wouldn’t mind it, you staying with me. That’s all.” 

Searching his face, you deadpan, “That’s so romantic.” 

“God, I can’t wait for you to see this,” he chuckles, then takes your hand and pulls you along, “Come on.”

You follow him through the dining room into the dark hallway, where you pause to turn on your headlamps, then climb the service stairs to the third floor, coming to a stop in front of Suite 302. 

“Alright, lights out,” he clicks the off button on both your headlamps and leads you through the doorway, then the pitch black room. 

“Ok, it’s probably gonna look weird in the lighting, but,” he turns your headlamps on, and you gasp. 

The canvas shows a sunroom with windows of blinding white light. Suite 203. And there you are, staring out the window, shadows falling over your face. 

“Dieter—”

From behind you, he slips his hands around your waist and kisses your cheek, then tells you, “I was taking pictures, you know, on the tour you gave me. And… I don’t know, I saw you there and took a picture because you just looked so…”

“Sad? Lonely?”

“Kind of. More like a, uhh… a palpable kind of longing. Sorrow and isolation. Like you’re looking for something or someone, but you don’t know what.” 

You reach back and cup his cheek, brushing your thumb against his patchy facial hair. 

“I wanted to capture that because it is… exactly how I’ve been feeling for years. Just so fucking lost and alone.” 

Butterflies flutter around in your stomach, and you whisper, “You don’t have to be alone anymore.” 

“Neither do you,” he murmurs, “Better yet, people all over the country will see you and know they’re not alone, either.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod, your light bouncing around the canvas, then say, “It’s fucking beautiful, Dieter. What’s it called?” 

“Once in a Blue Moon.”

[perotovar]

this protector — oneshot

moodboard by me

pairing: dieter bravo x din djarin rating: E (18+) content: slight angst, mostly fluff and smut, weed, dry humping, heavy makeouts, unprotected p in a, anal fingering word count: 3.1k dividers: @/saradika-graphics beta: @for-a-longlongtime (ily)

a/n: written for @burntheedges 's Roll-A-Trope! i got "dieter + only one bed". apologies for this being a couple days late! 🥺

summary: dieter and his bodyguard, din, get the wrong hotel room. i wonder what happens...

masterlist | follow @oakslibrary and turn on notifs ♥

“I don’t see an issue.”

“Of course you don’t.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to make the best of the situation!” Dieter exclaimed, planting himself on the lone bed in the hotel room then flopping onto his back.

Dieter’s bodyguard, Din, felt like he’d aged ten years in the last five minutes. He exhaled a heavy breath and watched the actor’s form carefully.

“Besides, it’s not like I’m taking this threat seriously. I get death threats on social media all the time,” Dieter scoffed, sitting up to cross his legs on the mattress. 

Din blinked, looked toward the ceiling, and rolled his eyes. “I wish you’d take this one a little more seriously. They had addresses.” Din made his way to the table in the corner of the room and removed his backpack, taking out his supplies for the evening. His hands brushed over the cool metal of his sidearm at the bottom of the pack. Hopefully he won't need it this evening.

“We’ll be fine,” Dieter groaned, rolling across the bed to ungracefully get back onto his feet. “I’m gonna take a bath, go ahead and do whatever it is you do!” The hotel bathroom door slammed shut shortly after, leaving Din in the room alone. 

“I’ll be calling the hotel staff because they didn’t give us the right room,” Din grumbled, punching the numbers on the room’s phone.

Dieter was more worried than he let on, but he knew he’d be okay. Din was his personal bodyguard and had been longer than anyone else. Dieter knew he could be a lot for some people, but he was glad to see Din’s professional stoicism outlasted any personal issues he may have had.

Resting in the hotel bathtub with some 90s R&B playing quietly from his phone, Dieter exhaled a heavy breath and shut his eyes. 

The threat came from an account that had his own face as their profile picture. He knew his fandom was just as weird as he was, but he didn’t think they’d threaten his life or his career like that. Unless the person was pretending to be a fan of his. Somehow, they knew which hotel he’d be staying in and where the film would be shooting, so he had to have Din attached at his hip at all times. Not that he was complaining, Din was hot as fuck. 

Who was he kidding, Din had never given Dieter the indication that he ever wanted to sleep with him. Did that hurt Dieter’s feelings a little? Obviously, but he wasn’t going to let anyone know that.

After spending long enough to prune up in the tub, Dieter got out, wrapping a towel around his waist. 

When Dieter came back into the hotel room, Din was focused on his phone, typing away. 

Sometimes, when whatever upper he’d taken earlier in the day had worn off, Dieter would come back down to his normally introverted self. He quietly made his way to his bag and put on some pajama pants and comfy socks. He decided against wearing a shirt tonight.

“Hotel won’t give us a room with another bed,” Din sighed, looking away from his phone and setting it down on the table next to him. “They say all the rooms are booked for the next couple of weeks.”

“Oh,” Dieter hummed quietly, pulling out a baggy of weed and his favorite pipe. 

“I don’t mind sleeping on the floor.”

Dieter frowned as he cracked open the hotel window. Crawling onto the bed, he got all the pieces necessary laid out in front of him. “You don’t have to do that,” he said softly.

Din’s face was always hard to read, but it was especially so now. “Are you suggesting we both sleep in the bed… together?”

Dieter took a hit, held it for a moment, then exhaled. The smoke hovered around him as he shrugged noncommittally. “Why not? I’m not going to… do anything to you so,” he coughed.

Din blinked, his eyes softening slightly. “I didn’t think you would, I just… I figured it would be unprofessional.”

Dieter’s head started to feel a little lighter, fuzzier, and that made him chuckle. “Yeah, because that’s so easy with me,” he rolled his eyes, taking another hit. 

“True,” Din huffed and stood to take out his own pajamas from his pack. “I’m going to change in the bathroom.”

The bathroom door was shut before Dieter could protest.

Everything Din did was efficient. His nightly routine took exactly twelve minutes, but this time he stayed in the bathroom for three minutes more.

Sleeping in the same bed with Dieter, technically his boss, wasn’t how he was planning to finish his evening. He knew Dieter, probably better than most people, so he knew the actor was harmless.

But Dieter had this boyish charm to him that Din couldn’t fucking resist. He couldn’t believe he voiced that he was worried about things being unprofessional. He wasn’t worried about Dieter breaking any unspoken rules, but himself. 

Din always kept a respectful, professional distance between him and the Oscar-winner and it worked for him. He hated that he fell for Dieter’s charms like so many others. The only difference was that they all had just an idea of who Dieter was, whereas Din knew his true self.

Dieter’s true self was sweet, shy. Definitely eccentric and weird, but he had an incredible sense of humor and great taste in music. Din wasn’t very good at… people, or talking, so he never really engaged in Dieter’s excited rants about things, but he always appreciated them from the sidelines.

A knock on the bathroom door startled Din out of his thoughts.

“Hey, are you done in there? I gotta pee so bad!”

Din couldn’t stop the smirk from growing on his face.

An hour later, Din was laying on the bed close to the edge with the hotel blankets covering him from the waist down. He was checking in with Dieter’s manager and signing off for the evening. Dieter was curled up next to him a respectful distance away.

“Hey, Din?”

“Hm?”

“I’m sorry,” Dieter mumbled.

Din plugged his phone in and set it down, looking back at the actor with a frown. “What for?”

Dieter sighed. “Making you share a bed with me, I know it’s not… I know you probably don’t want to.”

“You didn’t make me do anything, Dieter,” Din said softly. “Besides, this is my job. If anything, I can guard you easier from here.”

A flicker of sadness crossed Dieter’s features before he chuckled humorlessly. “True. G’night, Din,” he mumbled, turning onto his side away from Din and turning the lamp off.

Din bit his lip in thought, but ultimately didn’t push anything. “Goodnight, Dieter.”

3:37 AM

Din has always been a light sleeper, but especially so when on the job. So, when he hears Dieter moaning and groaning in his sleep, it doesn’t take much for Din’s eyes to open.

Dieter was often very cuddly, but he always kept a respectful distance from Din. Din supposed that changed once he was asleep, because it wasn’t long before Dieter was curling his arms and legs around the guard’s entire body and squeezing tightly.

Dieter made a satisfied hum in his sleep and cuddled closer, resting his head on Din’s broad chest.

Din froze, then subtly moved his arms so it was more comfortable. The actor made a quiet noise in his sleep, making Din watch him carefully. Dieter’s hair was a mess, sticking up in all directions. Din thought it was adorable, and before he could stop himself, tangled his fingers into the thick curls. 

“Mm, keep doing that,” grumbled Dieter, voice thick with sleep.

Din froze, tugging on Dieter’s curls in the process. A quiet gasp left Dieter’s lips, making the actor lift his head to blearily look at his bodyguard. 

“Wha’ y’ doin’?” Dieter slurred, rubbing a big hand over his face.

Din’s face was like stone, but he blinked rapidly as his cheeks warmed. “Um. Y-you were cuddled close and it woke me up,” he whispered.

“Ohh, sorry. I can move–”

“No, it’s okay. Just– Just go back to sleep, Dieter.”

Dieter furrowed his brows, assessing Din’s motives before a smirk grew on his face like he’d just clocked Din from across the room. He saluted Din sleepily and giggled. “Sir, yes sir!”

Din rolled his eyes, but smiled to himself when Dieter rested his head on his chest again.

“You’re warm,” Dieter hummed. It wasn’t long before he was snoring again.

Din snorted and shut his eyes. “Thank you.”

Din woke up at 6:30 every morning. It would be a miracle if Dieter got out of bed before 10am. Thankfully it was a day off, so Dieter didn’t have anywhere important to be for once. 

Even though Din’s eyes were open and he was awake, he didn’t move. Couldn’t move, actually.

Dieter was clinging to him and subtly, well, humping Din’s thigh. There was no way Dieter was fully conscious. 

Din took a deep breath and steeled himself. He looked down and the sight before him was probably one of the most erotic things he’d seen in a while.

All in Dieter’s sleep, the actor was rolling his hips against Din’s muscular thigh and burying his face into the bodyguard’s torso, mouthing at the thin material of the shirt. Din was sure if he weren’t wearing anything, there’d be a hickey on his chest.

“Mm,” Dieter moaned quietly.

Din blinked, then looked towards the growing bulge in his own pajama pants. 

“Dieter,” Din whispered. When the actor didn’t respond, Din tried again, voice sharper.

”Huh? What, what happened?” Dieter stirred awake, eyes still mostly closed.

”Um, y-you…” Din gulped, unsure how to say anything. This was probably the least composed he’d ever been on a job.

Dieter squinted at him, trying to figure out what was wrong. When he felt something twitch against his leg, he looked down, then froze. Dieter slowly looked back up, but never removed himself, his leg still curled around Din’s waist. 

“You, uh…” Dieter cleared his throat, a shy smile gracing his features. “You want some help with that?”

Din’s eyes widened as his mouth opened and closed like a fish.

Dieter giggled, leaned over, and kissed the bodyguard languidly. Din made a noise in the back of his throat, but slowly melted into it, kissing the actor back. Dieter hummed happily, crawling onto Din’s lap properly.

”I have lube, gimme a sec,” Dieter breathed and nipped Din’s bottom lip. He quickly got up from the bed and tossed his pajama pants to the floor, leaving him stark naked in the hotel room as he dug through his bag for the lube.

”D-Dieter, wait, this isn’t—“

”Do you not want to?” Dieter asked, standing over his bag, hard cock protruding proudly from between his legs and lube in hand.

Din blushed. He looked away for a second and asked whatever god above that would listen to make this not weird afterwards. He exhaled a heavy breath, and turned back to the actor.

”I do.”

Dieter felt like his face would split in two from smiling so hard.

They’d been making out for what felt like hours. Din’s cock was starting to throb between them. Dieter had removed Din’s pajamas like he was a piece of precious art and Din wasn’t sure how to react to that.

”Din, please, I’m ready,” Dieter pouted, humping Din’s thigh impatiently.

Din chuckled and nodded. “Alright,” he paused, holding Dieter’s pudgy hips. “Hand me the lube, please.”

Dieter grinned and leaned over, passing the bottle to Din’s strong hands. Din drizzled a generous amount onto his two middle fingers before pulling the actor closer to him. The sensitive heads of their cocks brushed against each other, making Dieter gasp weakly, and Din hiss in pleasure.

”C’mere,” Din grunted, pressing Dieter’s chest against his own so the actor’s ass was poking out and slightly spread from how he was sitting. “Relax for me,” he whispered.

The first press of Din’s middle finger against Dieter’s rim had the actor’s eyes rolling into the back of his head. The temperature difference between the lube and Din’s warm body had him shuddering hard. 

“That’s it,” Din hummed, pressing his middle finger inside to the second knuckle.

”F-fuck—!” Dieter gasped, his face buried in Din’s neck.

”Mhm,” the bodyguard grinned, slowly working Dieter up to a second finger. It wasn’t long before Din was pumping his two middle fingers inside Dieter’s tight hole, the lewd squelch from the lube nearly echoing off the hotel walls.

Dieter moaned, rolling his hips back against Din’s fingers as he tried to fuck himself on the thick digits. His eyes were half-lidded and his cheeks were flushed, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the handsome, competent bodyguard underneath him.

His cock oozed pre-cum onto Din’s belly, the head flushed a deep red color. “Want you… inside me,” Dieter panted, biting his lip to keep from moaning too loudly.

Din watched Dieter closely, fucking his fingers at a steady pace. “That what you want?” He asked, his heart pounding in his chest. He tried his best to keep a cool head, but Dieter could tell from the sweating beeding at his temples that he was holding back a lot. The actor wanted to see him let go for once.

”Y-yes. Please, Din,” Dieter pleaded, leaning over to kiss the guard’s neck tenderly.

”Alright,” Din groaned, slapping one of Dieter’s cheeks, but not enough to leave a mark. Maybe next time, Dieter thought. “Get up. You wanna ride me?”

Dieter’s cock twitched hard between them. “God, yes, more than anything,” he groaned.

Din got comfy against the pillows and squeezed Dieter’s thighs. “Go slow, okay? I don’t…” He bit his lip in thought. “Don’t want you to get hurt, okay?”

A crooked smile grew on Dieter’s face. “This ain’t my first rodeo, cowboy,” he winked. Dieter knee-walked until Din’s shaft was nestled between his ass. He hummed at the feeling and relished in Din’s big hands on his hips and thighs, but he could tell Din was a little nervous.

Dieter cupped Din’s face and kissed him properly, easing Din down from whatever ledge he’d led himself to. “I’ll be okay,” he whispered, lifting his hips. He reached between his legs and slowly, carefully sank down onto Din’s cock.

A punched-out groan left Din’s lips at the tight heat enveloping him. He breathed hard, closing his eyes. Dieter smiled, his chest heaving as his body grew accustomed to the stretch.

”It’s… It’s been a while, gimme a sec,” Din wheezed, pressing his head into the pillows underneath him. 

Dieter hummed happily and ran his hands over Din’s strong chest. He did this often enough that his body was already starting to relax. This particular stretch though, knowing it was Din’s cock inside him, had Dieter going a little lightheaded. 

Din nodded and looked up at him. “Okay,” he smiled shyly. “I’m ready.”

”Good, because I’ve been waiting for this for a long time,” Dieter smirked. He lifted his hips and slammed them back down, making himself moan out loud.

Din joined him, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration and lips parted in shock.

Before either of them knew it, Dieter was treating Din like his favorite dildo, fucking himself like his life depended on it. He rode Din’s cock lewdly, his own dick bouncing between them and covering their skin with pre-cum.

Dieter tossed his head back as Din’s cock hit his prostate. “Mm, fuck,” Dieter giggled, resting his weight onto his hands on Din’s chest. He rolled his hips, watching Din’s fucked out face closely.

”Fuck,” Din breathed. “You’re so…”

Dieter’s breath hitched a little and he smiled, wrapping his arms around Din’s neck. He kissed the bodyguard’s cheek. “So what, huh?” He teased.

Din groaned and gripped onto Dieter’s pudgy hips tightly, digging his nails in. “C’mere,” he growled, planting his feet onto the mattress to get better leverage. He lifted Dieter’s body enough so he could fuck up into the actor’s body.

Dieter moaned out loud, throwing his head back. Din set a punishing pace, fucking Dieter hard. “D-Din! Fuck,” he gasped. He could feel the weight on his tummy and thighs jiggle with each of Din’s thrusts and it made him blush all the way down to his chest.

A loud smack broke through the heavy, sweaty air as Din lost himself in the pleasure. Dieter felt a sting on his left ass cheek and it made him bite his lip. 

“I’m gonna c-come, Din,” Dieter whimpered, feeling his cock throbbing between their bodies. 

“Good,” Din growled again, holding Dieter’s soft body close against his hard one. “Come for me,” he panted, not letting up on the pace he had.

Dieter whimpered into Din’s neck and stilled, coming hard over Din’s chest and tummy. He moaned weakly in the aftershocks as Din followed the waves with his thrusts. 

Dieter deflated against the bodyguard’s broad chest, catching his breath. Din pet his hair, moving the sweaty curls off his forehead. “Did so good,” he hummed happily. Dieter’s eyes lit up with the praise and it made his head go a little fuzzy. 

”Now you. Wanna suck you off,” Dieter decided, voice full of determination. He was down there between Din’s legs before he could protest.

Dieter hummed appreciatively and curled his fingers around the thick shaft, lightly tapping the head against his tongue

”Jesus, Dieter,” Din groaned, hips bucking slightly. Dieter engulfed him in one fluid motion, bobbing his head in a steady rhythm. Din moaned, arching his back off the mattress. His fingers tangled through Dieter’s curls and tugged hard. Dieter whimpered, his whole body shivering in response. 

His cock twitching heavily and before he could warn Dieter, Din came hard down the actor’s throat. Dieter moaned in shock, but swallowed everything down happily. 

Dieter lifted his head off of Din’s cock with a lewd suck and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He grinned and crawled up the bed to cuddle against Din’s chest. “We’re doing that again.”

Din laughed low in his chest. “Not anytime soon, gimme a minute,” he chuckled.

Suddenly, the hotel room phone started ringing, startling them out of their afterglow. “I got it,” Dieter said, standing next to the bed and answering quietly. He hummed along in response to the hotel clerk before saying, “Oh, that won’t be necessary. Thank you.” He hung up shortly after.

”What was that?” Din asked, stretching his body like a lazy cat against the sheets.

”Oh, a room with two beds opened up,” Dieter said, jumping back onto the bed.

Din blinked, his brain slowly catching up with itself. A smile slowly grew on his face when he realized Dieter turned it down. 

“C’mere, you.”

Dieter giggled as Din pulled him close.

[alwaysmicado]

Hi Love!!, love your works! Do you have your request open? Or if you just open to my insecurity talk🫣😅, well i’m curious about your take on reader’s insecurity on their boobs *shocking* by their real life’s average size theirs are bigger (that’s the first insecurity) and by the online’s appearance (like how social media and corn looked to them) theirs are just not the type that is appealing (in their opinion) well if it’s too much i’m sorry and the world is still going on and the sun is still shinning if they’re just accept it is what it is. I love your works, have i said that? I’ll say it again, im justt ugh im loving it to the point of i need to consume it everyday, and i love you thanks for your masterpieces!!

Anon, I’m kissing your forehead and holding you close 🤍🫂 Thank you so much for your support! I’ve had my fair share of body image issues, so I get it, BUT I want you to know that you’re beautiful, your boobs are amazing just the way they are, and there’s zero reason to feel insecure.

Your body is part of what makes you, you—and that is wonderful.

In His Eyes

1.8k | Dieter Bravo x f!reader | 18+

Warnings: insecure!reader, fluff, sweet!Dieter, sex talk A/N: My mind went straight to Dieter somehow...he just strikes me as a tits guy. Happy reading! 🤍

The glitzy world of Hollywood feels like another universe, a place where everyone is unnaturally beautiful, perfectly polished, and always on display.

Ever since you started dating Dieter, that world has been closer than you ever expected it to be. It’s like being constantly thrown into the deep end of a pool you didn’t even want to swim in, surrounded by model-like women who make you feel smaller by comparison.

It’s not that Dieter makes you feel this way—he’s actually a lot more down-to-earth than you’d expected for someone who is, well, Dieter Bravo. But the groupies, the social media influencers, the actresses at those Hollywood parties—they make you feel it.

Like no matter how much Dieter is into you, there’s always going to be someone thinner, prettier, younger, with smoother skin and...nicer tits.

You’ve always hated yours.

They’re big, heavy, not the gravity-defying, perky kind you see on social media or in porn. There’s some sag, stretch marks that remind you they’re real, but not what’s considered “ideal.” Dieter’s never said anything about it, but lately, it’s all you can think about. Every time you see him surrounded by those women, it gnaws at you, leaving a pit of insecurity in your stomach.

You’re sitting on the couch in his apartment, your phone clutched in your hand as you scroll through Instagram, heart sinking with every photo you see. Dieter’s out at some event—another movie premiere, another round of beautiful people all posing for the camera. You hadn’t felt like going tonight, too overwhelmed by your own self-doubt to put on a dress and act like you belonged in that world.

You try to shake the feeling off, but it lingers, wrapping around you like a heavy blanket. Why does he even like me? you wonder, staring at a picture of some model with a perfect hourglass figure. What’s stopping him from being with someone like her?

The door opens, and Dieter steps in, still looking devastatingly handsome in his suit, his tie slightly loosened, a lazy smile on his face.

“Hey, babe,” he calls out, kicking off his shoes as he makes his way over to you. “You should’ve come. It was a circus, but the drinks were free, so...you know, could’ve been worse.”

You force a smile, closing out of Instagram and setting your phone down. “Yeah, I just wasn’t feeling it tonight. I’m glad you had a good time, though.”

Dieter pauses, eyeing you for a moment before plopping down on the couch beside you. “You’ve been ‘not feeling it’ a lot lately. Something wrong?”

You shrug, trying to play it off. “Just...stuff. It’s nothing.”

“Come on, don’t give me that,” he says, nudging you with his elbow, that familiar grin on his face. “You think I don’t notice when something’s up? You’ve been avoiding these events like the plague, and now you’re sitting here in the dark. That’s not you.”

You bite your lip, debating whether to brush it off or tell him the truth. Dieter’s easygoing, playful, not the kind of guy who dives into serious conversations. But he’s also observant, and you know he won’t let it go.

“I just...” you begin, taking a deep breath. “I’ve been feeling a little insecure lately.”

Dieter’s grin falters, his brow furrowing slightly. “Insecure about what?”

You hesitate, your heart pounding. “About...me. My body. My boobs.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you feel the words hanging heavily in the air. You brace yourself for whatever reaction might come, but Dieter just blinks at you, as if waiting for you to elaborate.

“You’re constantly around these beautiful women,” you explain, your voice quieter now. “These perfect, gorgeous actresses and models and whatnot...and yeah, sometimes I feel like garbage compared to them. Especially...I mean, my tits aren’t...”

You trail off, not sure how to finish the sentence. You expect Dieter to brush it off, to laugh it away or make a joke. But instead, he shifts, turning to face you fully, his expression surprisingly serious for once.

“Wait, wait, hold on,” he says, holding up a hand. “You’re feeling insecure because of them? Because of all those...what? Barely legal models and influencers who’ve already had ten plastic surgeries by the time they turned eighteen? Babe, they’re literally paid to look like that. That’s their whole deal—selling a fantasy. It’s not real.”

You glance down, feeling the weight of your insecurities pressing down on you again. “I know, but it doesn’t make it easier when it’s all I see here. I just...I can’t stop thinking that one day you’ll realize you could be with someone like that instead of...me.”

Dieter stares at you for a second, then lets out a soft, disbelieving laugh. “Are you kidding me?”

Your stomach twists, and you can’t help but wince. “No, I’m not kidding. This isn’t funny to me.”

“Okay, no, I’m sorry.” He reaches out, grabbing your hands, his grip warm and grounding. “I get that you’re serious. But you’ve got this all wrong.”

You frown, unsure of what he means, but Dieter leans in, his dark eyes locking onto yours, his voice lower and softer now. “You think I’m into you despite how you look? You think I’m sitting here going, ‘Well, I guess I’ll settle for her, even though there’s all these other women’? That’s not how this works, babe.”

You blink, taken aback by his sudden intensity. “Yeah, but all your exes had–”

“Let me be crystal clear,” he interrupts, squeezing your hands a little tighter. “I’m with you because I wanna be with you. And that includes your smart mouth, your amazing brain, and your beautiful body. Every part of it.”

Your cheeks heat up, but you still can’t shake the doubt. “But my boobs–”

“Are fucking perfect,” he cuts in, his eyes flicking down to your chest before meeting your gaze again. “Jesus, how many boners do you need to give me just from existing in the same vicinity as me before you start to believe it?”

You can’t help the incredulous laugh that escapes you. “You’re a dork.”

Dieter lets go of your hands and moves closer, his fingers sliding up to gently cup your face. “I may very well be, but I’m also serious. Look at me.” He waits until your eyes meet his again, his voice steady and insistent. “I’m a shallow, sex-obsessed, movie star, right? If I wasn’t into every inch of you, why the hell would I still be here?”

You crack a smile at his self-deprecation, but the weight of your insecurities still lingers. “I dunno. Maybe you love other parts of me and take the bad with the good?”

Dieter groans softly, leaning against the couch, his hands dropping to your waist. “You don’t really believe that, do you? And, okay, you want me to be brutally honest?”

You nod, unsure but curious.

He smiles, his fingers grazing your waist as he speaks. “Every time you walk into a room, the first thing I notice? Your beautiful face, your radiance, how you light up the whole damn place with your presence. It’s like you pull all the air out of the room, and suddenly, there’s just you.”

“Oh, stop it…”

“I’m serious,” he insists, his eyes locked on yours, a smirk tugging on his lips. “And then, a millisecond after that? Your tits.”

You chuckle, rolling your eyes. “Of course.”

“They’re amazing. Like, out-of-this-world amazing. They’re real, and soft, and they’re part of you. And trust me when I say, I’m not looking at anyone else. Not like that.”

His words are sinking in, but part of you still struggles to believe it. Unfortunately, the insecurities you’ve harbored for so long won’t just vanish with a few compliments, no matter how sweet they are.

“But I’m…never gonna look like the rest of your…friends or whatever. And it makes me feel like an outsider,” you say a little quieter now. “And I know you love me, and I know I’m too old to feel this way, I know, but I just…do.”

“Why would you want to look like them, though?” he asks, genuine confusion in his voice.

“Um, what kind of question is that?” you ask incredulously. “Because they’re beautiful and successful and–”

“Fake,” Dieter interrupts bluntly, cutting you off without hesitation. “Airbrushed, filtered, and half of them are so miserable they can’t go to sleep without a cocktail of Percocet and vodka knocking them out. Trust me, I know.” He’s serious now, the playful tone gone. “Their lives? Their bodies? None of it is real. It’s smoke and mirrors, and it’s fucked up that it’s sold as something desirable.”

You open your mouth to say something, but he doesn’t let you. His hands move up, resting just below your ribcage, his gaze unwavering as he speaks.

“You’re real, babe. That’s what I want. I’m not interested in some blow-up doll version of a person. And even if I used to be into that, or if that’s what other people want—so what?” He leans in closer, the look in his big, warm puppy eyes making your heart race, clouding your senses. “I’m with you now. Because I want you. Because you’re the one that gets me out of bed in the morning and keeps me up at night.”

“Thank you, Dee,” you whisper, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips, your heart swelling. You wrap your arms around him tightly, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. His familiar scent and warmth surround you, comforting you in ways words alone can’t. His hands find their way to your back, gently rubbing, soothing. 

For a moment, everything is quiet, just the sound of his steady breathing against your ear. At last, your mind is calm. 

“You know I’m constantly daydreaming about your tits, right?” Dieter murmurs suddenly, catching you off guard like only he can. “Playing with them for hours on end, burying my face in them, licking them, sucking on them…pressing them together and fucking them. Or just watching them bounce while you’re on top of me.” 

You laugh softly, shaking your head at how shameless he is, but your body responds to every word. “Dee…”

“It’s bad, okay? Can’t even really jerk off to porn anymore…I think you broke my brain, babe.”

You chuckle and pull back just enough to look into his eyes. “Be careful, or I might just start believing you.” 

“Yeah?” he grins, his hands never leaving your body.

“Yeah.” You bite your lip, feeling the heat rising between you. “But I think I might need a little more..convincing.”

----- Thank you for reading! 🤍 Masterlist | inbox

[tightjeansjavi]

‘Cause After Midnight…

A/N: this idea came to be randomly yesterday morning and thus the brain rot began! Idk about y’all, but I would do ANYTHING for slumber party!Dieter 🤭 big thank you to @chronically-ghosted for sharing the brain rot cell with me this week! 🫡

~word count: 8.5k~ yeaaaah idk what happened!

Summary: a slumber party with your bestie Dieter Bravo, after midnight! What could possibly happen between the two of you?

Pairing | slumber party!dieter x best friend female!reader

Warnings: smut, fluff, a little sprinkle of angst, DUBIOUS CONSENT, mentions of alcohol and ouid smoking, infidelity (not by dieter) toxic relationship (Dieter’s ex) denial of feelings, secret pining, best friends to lovers?, pussy pronouns, domestic intimacy, mutual masturbation, masturbation with a shower head (iykyk), sexual tension, language, dirty talk, unprotected piv, aftercare, reader has no physical descriptions, readers nickname is bug, +18 minors dni!

Being Dieter Bravo’s best friend since…well, forever, came with a long list of perks. Your favorite perk of all, you may ask? Getting to spend time with your best friend. Whether that was at his home, lounging side by side next to his inground pool, stumbling out of a DTLA nightclub, clammy hands entwined together as you head to the nearest street food cart ASAP (Dieter demands steak tacos when he’s wasted) or when you were his glittering gem on the red carpet, dodging the incessant questions from the red carpet wasps—I mean, interviewers asking you and Dieter if you were dating.

It was like clockwork, you and Dieter would look at one another, laugh and shake your heads in sync, “us, dating? No, you have it all wrong! We’re simply just two besties that do everything together, don’t get it twisted!” (So what if you and Dieter would sometimes get equally wasted in the club and drunkenly makeout…and sometimes, while making out, he would grope your ass beneath your dress—you were just friends! Best friends kiss like all the time…right?)

Of course, Hollywood didn’t buy it despite yours and Dieter’s repetitive denial, and the fact that Dieter was currently smitten with his girlfriend—well, ex-girlfriend now. The tabloids spewed their cheap gossip, but your friendship with Dieter never soured.

You frequently slept over on the weekends he was home. It was your shared routine from Friday-Sunday (sometimes even Mondays), you and Dieter would get higher than two kites, cross off a few movies on your watch lists, paint together, and order takeout for every meal. Truthfully, it was fucking bliss.

This weekend, in particular, Dieter decided he wanted to have a whole ass slumber party. (Not nearly as extravagant as the princess diaries slumber party, or the Barbie movie) but Dieter knew how to throw a killer intimate slumber party. He invited all of his close, niche friends including you. He already had a whole array of different foods to munch on throughout the night so that no one would go hungry.

As always, Dieter was nearly glued to your side and if it were anyone else, or any other man for that matter, you would be annoyed, but when it came to Dieter, you shared your small bubble of space happily with him.

Everything was going swimmingly, until Dieter’s ex showed up uninvited. Dieter was in the whirlpool, wearing the tiniest swim trunks known to man. He had a beer in one hand while his other arm was resting along the outside of the hot tub. He was mid conversation, laughing about something one of his friends said before his eyes met yours when you appeared from the kitchen, a nervous look plastered on your face as you approached the hot tub.

“Hey, Dee?..” you crouched down along the edge of the hot tub.

“Yeah, bug?” He took a sip of his beer, brow cocking in curiosity. “What’s up? Why do ya look so worried?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, Dee. Just uh—well, your ex just sorta showed up uninvited. She’s in the kitchen—”

“What the fuck do you mean she just sorta showed up?! What the fuck.” He groaned, dragging his wet hand across his face, squeezing his eyes shut. “I reckon she just invited herself in, too?”

Your nod confirmed his suspicions. “Unfortunately she did. I told her she wasn’t welcome, but she essentially told me to fuck off.” You stifled a laugh.

“Yeah, well, she’s never exactly been the type to respect boundaries.” He sighed and handed you his beer so that he could pull himself out of the hot tub. The swim trunks he was wearing quite literally left little to the imagination, and you swore that you caught a glimpse of his infamous package when he bent down and grabbed his towel to quickly dry off.

His hand gently brushed yours as he reached for his beer. “I’ll deal with her. Not gonna let it spoil my night.” He gruffed out and draped the towel around his shoulders. “Be back in a jiffy, bug.” He winked and headed towards the sliding doors leading to the kitchen.

When he didn’t return to the backyard in over 20 minutes, that’s when you made the executive decision to see if he was okay. When you neared the front door, you could hear the distinct tone of Dieter’s voice through the thin glass and you caught a glimpse of him throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“You can’t just fucking show up here uninvited! You’re not only trespassing, but you’re crossing a boundary! This is exactly why we broke up in the first place because you’re just so fucking clingy!” He yelled.

“Oh, I’M THE CLINGY ONE?!” She laughed, jabbing her perfectly manicured finger directly into his bare chest. “So, it has nothing to do with the fact that you spent more time with your best friend than with your girlfriend?! Don’t you think thats a bit fucking weird, Dieter?!”

“Oh, for fucks sakes! Here we go again! Don’t you dare go bring her into this when she’s done nothing wrong! So sorry that you felt like the attention I was giving you was inadequate! Guess that gave you just the right amount of ammo to cheat on me with MY fucking pilates instructor?! Dude, I can’t even look the guy in the face anymore without wanting to rip his dick off, balls and all!”

“YES, because you left me with no other choice, Dieter! He gave me more attention than you ever have!”

“Right, sure! So instead of oh—I don’t know, acting like a fucking normal person, you let your jealousy take front and center and cheat on me?! Why the fuck couldn’t you just be like hey, Dieter! I’m feeling under-appreciated in our relationship and I’d like to talk about it in a healthy, productive way because I love and respect you as a person! I would have never fucking cheated on you, don’t you get that?!”

“Okay—you’re right! I’m sorry that I wasn’t mature, and I’m sorry I cheated on you, Dieter. I’m so sorry! Can we please just—”

He laughed, throwing his head back with his hands carding through his damp curls in disbelief. “You have got to be shitting me! You just expect me to what—take you back after all of that?! Fuck you. I may be a stupid fucking actor, but I’m not that stupid. Please, can you just—leave? I don’t want to call the cops, but I will if I have to.”

“Dieter, come on! Baby, please. Let’s just talk—”

“I’m not your baby.” He muttered and turned on his heel and walked back towards the front door. He really just wanted to bury his face in his hands and scream, but he was determined to not let her ruin his night. So, when he opened the door, and found you on the other side, he let out a visible sigh of relief. “Well, that was a crapshoot. Did ya hear any of it, bug?” He closed the door softly and made sure to lock it for good measure.

“You okay, Dee? I heard the last bit of it…I’m sorry that you had to deal with that.”

“S’okay. It’s done now and I’m gonna try and not let it ruin the rest of the night. Thank you for checking in on me, bug. I appreciate it.”

“Of course, Dee. Everyone is still in the backyard. Wanna join them? Otherwise I was thinking maybe you and I can get high?”

He grinned at your suggestion, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorjamb, “say less.”

That’s how you found yourself in Dieter’s bedroom, sitting on the floor with his rolling tray in your lap while he was changing out of his too-tight swim trunks and into a pair of boxers that were…equally as tight. You loved the way that his little bit of tummy pudge hung over the side of the boxer's waistband. What you wouldn’t give to worship that tummy while he shoves his—You kept your eyes focused on plucking a few bud clusters and placing them in the grinder. His phone was charging next to yours on the nightstand. You had Spotify open on shuffle playing yours and Dieter’s favorite playlist. The song that was currently playing was After Midnight by Chappell Roan.

He plopped down beside you, gently grabbing the tray and placed it in his lap so that he could roll the actual joint. He used the front of his bed as a backrest as he opened up the grinder and carefully distributed the ground up herb into one of the papers.

“I seriously don’t know how your dick can breathe in those tight fucking shorts, Dee.” you said with a playful edge to your tone as you let your head rest in the crook of his neck. He leaned into you too, naturally.

“They are not that tight!” He scoffed and looked over at you with a playful grin on his lips. “My dick can breathe in these perfectly fine, bug.” he retorted.

“Yeah, okay, whatever you say.”

Comfortable silence washed over the two of you while he finished rolling up the joint, looking over at you expectantly as he sparked the end of it, inhaling with his cheeks slightly hollowed, “should we have a full slumber party moment and paint our nails and do each other's makeup?” He asked softly, blowing the smoke upwards towards the ceiling and held the joint out to you between his pointer and middle finger.

“Shut up. I can’t believe you just brought that up because I was thinking the same exact thing!” You looked over at him In disbelief, reaching for the joint as your fingers briefly brushed against one another during the exchange. “I must have manifested this or something because I made sure to bring my nail polish this time!”

“Just start calling me Dieter the all knowing!” He chuckled, feeling the inhaled drug slowly send him into a relaxed state. He let his head comfortably rest against the back of the bed. “and I have my makeup that we can use! Think you can show me how to perfect the winged liner look? I’m shit at doing it on myself.” He huffed.

“I am not gonna start calling you Dieter that all knowing! There’s no way in hell I’m going to grant you all that power!” You nudged his shoulder gently with your own before you took a long drag from the joint, holding the smoke in your lungs before slowly exhaling it. “Of course I can help you with your eyeliner, Dee! Only if you let me pick out your nail color this time.”

“Okay, deal!” He was quick to respond with zero hesitation in his chipper tone.

So, after you each took a few more drags from the joint and your minds began to go hazy, Dieter lazily got up and walked into the en-suite to grab his bag of makeup from the bathroom cabinet. When he returned, you had grabbed your overnight bag and already had all of your nail products laid out.

“Damn, did ya bring your entire collection from home with ya?” He teased as he plopped down next to you. His movements were uncoordinated due to the drug coursing through his veins. He nearly fell into your lap, giggling and quietly apologizing as he sat back up. This was a normal occurrence for you and Dieter. Whenever the two of you would get high together, (which was frequent), you both became naturally affectionate and extremely touchy with one another. It was second nature, and something that neither you or Dieter ever thought about as being ‘weird’ and not the norm for most platonic friendships.

“Go big or go home, right Dee?” You had already picked out a pretty sparkly blue polish for his nails and set it off to the side.

“Absolutely, bug. Hey, can you do my makeup first, please?” He had his hands clasped in his lap, nervously twiddling his thumbs as if he was a child waiting to be reprimanded by his parents.

“Of course I can.” You said softly, and grabbed the makeup bag from his lap. “Hey, are you okay?…”

He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut momentarily and shook his head. “No, not really. I’m fucking pissed off about what happened down there with my ex.”

You nodded in understanding and stood up to grab one of his many pillows so that he would have something comfortable to lay against while you would do his makeup. “I gathered that.”

“That’s because you’re always reading the room, bug.” He chuckled, grabbing the pillow from you so that he could place it under his back. Once he was situated, he patted his thighs, beckoning you to come sit in his lap. (Doesn’t everyone straddle their best friend and do their makeup?)

“Am I?” You mused and wasted no time to straddle his hips, making yourself comfortable above him. He was looking up at you with that sparkle in his irises that only appeared around you. It was as if you were the reason why the sun shined, and the stars twinkled in the sky. You were too busy going through his bag of makeup to catch the look, and when your eyes did land upon his face, he looked like he was going through constricting emotions.

“Yeah, you’re really good at doing that, y’know?” He sighed, feeling his shoulders deflate and sink against the pillow.

“Do you want to talk about what happened, Dee?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, letting his hands gently rest around your hips, thumbs stroking the sliver of skin visible under your shorts in a soothing figure eight motion. “I mean, who the fuck just shows up to someone’s slumber party uninvited?”

“Well, she’s never really respected your boundaries, has she? Remember when you forgot to leave your phone in your dressing room at the Oscars, and when you were reading out the nominees and she called you, despite knowing that you were at the Oscars?” You grabbed his little bottle of toner and a couple cotton rounds, softly telling him to close his eyes.

He closed his eyes, flinching slightly when the cool mist of the toner kissed his skin. He relaxed further into the pillows when you gently patted the toner into his skin with the cotton round. “Yeah, that was a fucking disaster! I just remember going all red in the face and fearing that my career with the rest of the Hollywood assholes was over at that point.”

“I’m pretty sure she made that move out of spite, Dee. Y’know, because you didn’t ask her to be your plus one?”

He peeked one eye open to look up at you, “that’s because you’ve attended every single red carpet event with me, bug. It’s…tradition.” (Yeah, sure it is, Dieter. Just tradition.)

“I’m not justifying her behavior by any means, but I can understand why she was upset that you invited your best friend over your girlfriend to the Oscars.” You set the bottle of toner down and grabbed his usual moisturizer and squirted a few pumps onto your fingers and rubbed it into his skin.

“Yeah, I guess when you put it that way it does sound pretty fucked up huh? But I don’t think I deserved to be cheated on.” His lips curved into a downwards pout, brows furrowed intently.

“Oh, of course not, hun. Cheating is never justifiable.” You reassured him, reaching into the makeup bag and pulled out his primer, foundation and concealer. “Do you wanna do a full look or something on the more no makeup/makeup side?”

“So then why did she try to justify her reason for cheating on me? Not only that, she tried to sweet talk her way back in towards the end of the conversation. Oh, Dieter, I’m so sorry!” He scoffed, “she even pulled the baby card on me! I know I’m not the most emotionally intelligent individual 99% of the time, and I’ve struggled my whole life taking much of anything serious, but I still have a fucking heart despite what the tabloids gossip about.” He paused mid-venting, remembering what you had asked him, “surprise me, bug.”

“She pulled the baby card on you? What a fucking cunt move, honestly.” you shook your head. “Dieter, you have one of the biggest hearts in all of Hollywood, hun. You just don’t share it with everyone and that’s okay. Those tabloids are a load of crap. I told you before that you have to stop feeding into their agenda. It’s not worth it, Dieter.”

“Exactly! It was a cunt move. And if I didn’t realize my worth sooner, I probably would have fallen right back into a relationship with her again! You know what I’m starting to believe? Maybe…I just have to accept the fact that no one is ever gonna love me.”

You let out a sigh, reaching back into the makeup bag and pulled out one of his glitter shadows to apply on his eyelids. He let out a content hum when your fingers began to gently card through his damp curls while your other fingers began to gently pat the shimmery shadow onto his closed eyelids. “Dieter, don’t you fucking start that shit and claiming that no one is ever going to love you.”

“Well, it’s true! I can’t fucking hold a healthy relationship down to save my life! I’m the laughing stock of Hollywood, days away from fucking relapsing, and no one is gonna give a shit!”

“Dude, what are you talking about?” You fought the urge to laugh, not at him, of course, but at the situation at hand. “I love you, idiot. You are not the laughing stock of Hollywood, and you will not fucking relapse under my watch, Dieter.”

“Bug, I know you love me, and I love you too! But…that’s different. What I’m talking about is real, true love—ow!” He whimpered when you had accidentally poked his eye with your nail.

You weren’t even paying attention when he started rambling about true love and that the way he loved you was completely different…it stung and sent your heart straight through a shredder, and he had no idea!

“Shit, Dee! I’m so sorry—are you okay? My finger slipped.” Your palm came to rest around his scruffy jawline, leaning in close to make sure that you hadn’t accidentally poked his eye out with your fingernail. Your warm breath gently fanned his face as he blinked a few times to surpass the dull sting he felt on his cornea.

“I’m okay, bug. But damn, girl! Are you trying to poke my eye out or something?” He joked, trying to relieve the palpable tension growing between the two of you.

You were quick to change the subject, feeling slightly embarrassed that you allowed his words to affect you that much. You reached for the joint that was resting along the rolling tray and picked it up between your two fingers along with the lighter. “I’m going to take a couple more hits…you want any?” You asked while sparking the joint up, taking a deeper inhale this time to try and soothe your already scrambled brain.

He nodded, reaching his hand up to pluck the joint from between your lips after you were finished and placed it between his own and took a similarly deep drag. He looked so fucking pretty, laying there, joint hanging low between his lips, shimmering eyeshadow making his rich brown eyes stand out even more.

“Y’know…” he started, “if ya take a picture, it’ll last longer!” He mused, taking another long drag, blowing the smoke off to the side. When you didn’t immediately laugh at his weak attempt to ease the tension further, he frowned. “Hey, you okay? You’re never this quiet, bug. Even when you’re high.”

“I’m fine, Dieter.” You sighed, and went to slide off his lap, forgetting about doing his eyeliner when his hand resting around your hip tightened and you freezed under his touch.

“Hey, please don’t lie to me. Did I say something to upset you? I’m sorry if I did.” He was always so genuine in his apologies to you. He could claim to not know how to read the room, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Dee, I’m fine.” You reassured him. “I was just having a moment.”

“Well…stop that! It’s not allowed when we’re having a sleepover.” He really just couldn’t stand to see you upset. It tore him up inside and made him feel like he was always the root cause for your mood change.

“Fuck you.” You laughed, giving his cheek a light pat while your other hand ruffled through his hair. “Do you still want me to do your eyeliner?”

“Yes please.” He grinned. “Just promise to not poke my eye out again?”

“I promise, Dee.”

While you carefully began to apply the eyeliner to his eyelids with careful precision, he continued to ramble on underneath you, careful to not move too much because he really didn’t want to accidentally get poked in the eye. Once you were finished, you expected him to immediately want to check how he looked in the mirror, but instead, he switched positions with you, straddling your hips now so that he could do your makeup.

You didn’t protest, of course. You’d take any excuse to admire his handsome features up close while he was zoned in on his work, his muse being you. Whenever he was painting, his focus was intense and it was as if he had tuned out everything else around him. He acted all the same while he was gently applying a shimmer shadow to your eyelids.

The intimacy simmering between the two of you was becoming too much for you to handle. You could feel him through his too-tight boxers, the weight of his cock pressing right against your clothed center. Despite knowing Dieter for as long as you have, you never had seen his cock, only just the outline of it. However, you heard the stories from his past partners, flings, and even some colleagues. They were all shocked to hear that you yourself had not seen Dieter Bravo’s package.

The walls in his spacious bedroom felt like they were closing in on you from how flustered you were feeling. Surely there was sweat beginning to bead and perspire along the column of your throat and behind your neck. Perhaps there was even an evident sign of your arousal between your thighs. You hoped to god that he hadn’t caught on. But when his hips shifted forward, his tongue poking out between his lips while he carefully applied a swipe of eyeliner across your right eyelid, it was too much.

“Hey—Dee? I’m not feeling too hot. Think the weed is messing with me. I—I think I’m gonna shower and go to bed.” You stuttered out, trying to focus on the words coming out of your mouth and not the images of his thick cock—

He frowned, looking deflated when you said that you wanted to go to bed. “Oh—okay, bug. I understand. Do you wanna watch a movie or something? I’ll get you some food and water, okay? Maybe you’re just having a bad trip?” He was genuinely concerned, feeling slightly nervous that his trusted dealer had laced his stash with something, but he didn’t want to go down that rabbit hole just yet.

“No—I just…I want to shower and go to bed, Dieter. I’ll be fine. It probably is just a bad trip.” You reassured him and subtly tried to create any form of distance between the two of you to relieve the tension you were feeling.

The weed is only enhancing what I’m feeling right now. If he could see the thoughts going through my head right now—

“If you are having a bad trip, then I should stay with you, bug. I don’t want anything to happen to you—”

“Dieter.” You were on the edge of snapping and saying something you would inevitably regret, “I don’t want you to stay with me, okay? I just want to fucking shower and go to bed.”

Ouch.

He visibly recoiled, feeling like you had just stabbed him right in the gut and twisted the knife for good measure. Maybe I am the clingy one…

“Okay, okay. I understand. I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want.” He wanted to snap right back at you, but he didn’t have the heart in him to do so.

“Thank you.” You breathed out, and when he didn’t immediately uncage your thighs from under his hips, you took matters into your own hands and placed your palm flat against his chest, gently pushing him off of you so you could quickly stand up.

He felt his heart twist even further when you disappeared into the en-suite, slamming the door behind you. He wasn’t sure if it was done maliciously or on accident, it still fucking hurt.

Seconds later he hears the sink turn on and the sound of water splashing against your face. It felt wrong to leave you in this state, so even after he heard the shower turn on while he was cleaning up the strewn about makeup on the floor, he sat down against the door, his back leaning against it as he waited. For what? He really didn’t know the answer to that.

You knew that Dieter was concerned about your well being, and if he could have it his own way, he would be in the bathroom with you right now, sitting with his back facing you so that you would feel comfortable to shower. You also were aware that he was sitting against the bathroom door and your heart lurched at the thought. You felt the guilt swim and swirl around you. Snapping at your best friend was not on your bingo card for the night, but maybe this was a sign that you and Dieter needed to set some serious boundaries between one another. Maybe you were beginning to realize that the two of you were…too close.

“Can you just…let me know you’re okay in there?” You heard him ask through the door as the scalding hot water streamed down over your bare body.

“Dieter, I’m fine.” Your voice was muffled under the stream.

“Yeah, sure you are, but I’d be a terrible fucking friend if I just left you to deal with this bad trip on your own, bug.”

God dammit, Dieter. Why can’t you just be an asshole like a normal person?! Is what you really wanted to say.

“Okay…” you trailed off, “I’m going to be in here for a while.”

“That’s okay. You can use up all of my hot water. I don’t care.” He reassured you.

When you didn’t immediately respond he let out a sigh, resting his head back against the door, closing his eyes. He remembered that your phone was still playing music from where it sat on his nightstand next to his own, and the familiar tune of Pink Pony Club started playing. It was yours and Dieter’s favorite song off of Chappell’s album.

“I know you wanted me to stay, but I can't ignore the crazy visions of me in LA. And I heard that there's a special place, where boys and girls can all be queens every single day.”

Dieter Bravo could not fucking sing, but everytime that he did for you, it was the most endearing gesture ever.

“You fucking asshole.” You muttered under your breath, “I'm having wicked dreams of leaving Tennessee. Oh, Santa Monica, I swear it's calling me. Won't make my mama proud, It's gonna cause a scene. She sees her baby girl, I know she's gonna scream…”

“God, what have you done! You're a pink pony girl, and you dance at the club! Oh mama, I'm just having fun! On the stage in my heels, it’s where I belong down at the Pink Pony Club!” You and Dieter sung the chorus in unison, completely out of tune, but neither of you could give a fuck about that.

You could practically picture his dopey, weed-stained grin plastered on his handsome, scruffy face behind the door when you sang the chorus together. The mental image sent your heart surging out of your chest, and your pussy pulsing in tandem.

Fuck me.

You truly had just planned to take a hot, relaxing, mind clearing shower and then go straight to bed, but you were feeling bothered by the weed, and your blatantly obvious attraction towards your best friend. Not to mention, the little rasp in Dieter’s voice was not helping you out in this predicament, either. That’s when you noticed his attached shower head and the lightbulb went off in your weed-induced brain.

You reached for the attached shower head, gently removing it from where it was mounted against the shower wall. Before turning it on, however, you quickly got familiar with the numerous spray settings and chose the medium spray before slowly dragging the shower head between your legs and—oh, fucck.

The pressure was just right and was directly spraying a stream of water onto your exposed clit. You held back a moan, bringing the back of your hand to your mouth and bit down as you slowly sank to your ass along the shower wall, your thighs spread fully, eyes rolling back into your skull from the intense feeling. That’s when a moan slipped past and Dieter initially thought he was just hearing things, but then he heard it again…and his cock twitched to life beneath the tight confinements.

“There’s no way. I’m just high as shit right now and hearing things. Yeah, that’s the logical explanation!” He muttered to himself, scrubbing one hand down his face. But then he heard you distinctively moan, and his face suddenly felt hot to the touch. He pressed his ear against the door, raising his fist and gently knocked on the wood, “you uh—you okay in there?”

You were so close to hitting that big ‘o’ that you didn’t even hear Dieter’s low rasp through the door.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” You whimpered. “So fucking close, just a little more. Just a little more. C’mon, baby.”

Now that he could hear you more clearly, he knew exactly what was producing those little desperate sounds to slip past your pretty lips: his fucking shower head.

“Excuse me?? Are you getting yourself off with MY shower head, without me in there?!” It was a thought that he had meant to keep in his head, but now that it was out there, there was truly no going back.

You froze like a deer caught in headlights, immediately dropping the shower head from your loose grasp and it clattered to the shower floor just as the bathroom door burst open.

“Dieter—WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!” You screeched, hair drenched, thighs spread and trembling.

He shut the door behind him, muttering under his breath as he approached, looking you right in the eyes, “more importantly, what are you doing?” He placed his hands on his hips. “Your little moans and whimpers made me rock fucking hard!” He gestured to the obvious tent in his boxers, his cock straining against the tight material. “Had I known it was gonna be that kind of sleepover, I would have joined you a heck of a lot sooner!”

Oh. My. God. This isn’t happening, is it?!

“Dieter, you can’t just fucking come in here when I’m masturbating! Dude—what the fuck!”

“Oh, heavens! Are we going back to the 1800’s or something? Just call it for what it is! You playing with your pussy, and using my shower head to get yourself off! By all means, please continue, but next time? I want a personal invite!”

You were appalled…and a little turned on? Okay, a lot turned on! In fact, your pussy was pulsing between your thighs, the edge of your interrupted orgasm was still simmering, waiting to fully bloom. To make matters worse, Dieter had crouched down outside of the shower, his brows furrowed when he noticed the setting you had set the shower head to. He tsked under his breath, shaking his head as he reached into the shower and picked up the shower head from where it had been dropped between your spread thighs.

“Dieter, what are you—”

“Hush and listen to the teacher, okay? For starters, you’re using it all wrong. You gotta build yourself up first, and then go full blast. Otherwise you’re just gonna overstimulate your poor little clit, and that just takes away from the experience.” He said in the most casual fashion, as if this wasn’t crossing a million different invisible boundaries all at once.

“Dieter, I don’t need your assistance on getting myself off, okay? Please just—”

“Bug, don’t make this weird, okay? We’re friends, and there’s nothing in the friends handbook that says that we can’t help one another get off! It’s totally not forbidden.” He retorted.

“I think you just made the whole friends handbook thing up. It totally doesn’t exist and we absolutely should not be doing this, Dieter! It’s wrong for a multitude of reasons!”

“The friends handbook totally exists! I’ll get you a copy, okay? I’m not going to touch you, unless you want me to. I’m just gonna use the shower head to show you the right way to get yourself off with it, and afterwards you will be thanking me!”

“I can’t believe I’m about to agree to this. I cannot fucking—”

“Best start believing it, baby! Now, spread your thighs for me a little more, okay?”

“Okay, I’m giving you my full consent, but if I start feeling weird, we’re stopping this whole thing, okay?” You looked him directly in the eyes as you spread your thighs further so he had a better view.

“Bug, if at any point you feel weird, uncomfortable, or want to stop, just tell me, okay? I’m not gonna pressure you to continue doing this if you don’t want to. I’m leaving the ball completely in your court, and my feelings won’t be hurt if you change your mind, okay? I promise.” His words were sincere, and it was hard to look away when he was staring at you with those big, brown, puppy dog eyes.

“Okay.” You nodded.

He leaned forward then, briefly getting caught under the stream when his lips brushed across your forehead, leaving you both feeling slightly stunned. He softly asked you if it was okay if he did touch you, to which you obliged, lower lip taken between your teeth when his hand that wasn’t holding the shower head slowly dipped between your thighs and his fingers spread your slick folds apart so he would have better access to your clit.

“I always knew that your pussy would be pretty, baby, but goddamn—she really is so fucking pretty.” He took a sharp inhale of breath, his cock twitching painfully in his boxers.

“Dieter Bravo, you’re going to be the death of me.” You breathed out, heat rising to your cheeks from the way he was gazing at the spot between your thighs, eyes glazed over the same way a dog looks at a delicious bone, or a plate of juicy, rare, steak.

“You’re already the death of me, bug.” He whispered, unable to help himself when his thumb gently brushed across your clit. He swallowed hard, trying to focus on the task at hand but between you prettily spread out beneath him, and the weed still flowing through his system, he was fucked.

He changed the setting on the shower head without even having to look down at it. He was too focused on your face, particularly your eyes and how you both seemed to be drinking one another in, an invisible string tied between the two of you, reeling him in closer, and closer. You observe his face, and the way his eyeliner has now started to run and bleed under his eyes and down his cheeks from the water and steam. Your pussy clenches from the sight just as his thumb lightly presses against your clit, making slow, languid, figure eight motions.

He thinks he wants to kiss you—no, scratch that. He wants to kiss you, and you can tell by the way his eyes flicker from your face and down to your lips, and then back up again.

“Dieter…” you whisper, bringing your hand up to gently cradle his face in your palm, curling your pointer finger under his chin. “Do you want to kiss me?” Your warm breath fans his face as he slowly nods.

“Yeah, I do.” He rasped, slowly leaning in.

“So kiss me, you fool.”

And so he did, but instead of hesitating, and holding back, he dove right in, noses pressing into one another as he licked greedily into your mouth, tangling his tongue with yours while his hand holding the shower head angled it right against your exposed pussy and between his fingers where he was keeping you spread open.

“Oh fuck!” You whimpered into the kiss, keeping your one hand anchored around his jaw while the other came to rest at the back of his head, your fingers tangled through his drenched locks, tugging on them gently.

“Yeah, feels good, doesn’t it, baby? Told ya so.” He snickered into your lips, kissing you deeper. “Lower water pressure builds you up slower, drawing your orgasm out to last longer, and it’ll feel 10x more intense.”

“Mhm.” You mumbled into his lips, scooting your hips closer to the stream of water, and to him.

“Greedy little pussy, huh? Can’t get enough, can ya?” He teased.

“Dieter…” you warned him, playfully biting down on his lower lip and tugging it out gently before releasing it.

“I know, I know.” He chuckled and reluctantly detached himself from the kiss, pecking your lips once before he sat back on his thighs to give himself any form of relief. “You wanna give yourself a whirl while I go take care of this er—in privacy?”

Your cheeks were puffed out, lips swollen with his kisses as you stared up at him dumbfounded. “Are you insane? Just get in here with me, Dieter. Right now.”

He blushed, turning bright red all the way to the tips of his ears. He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly turning all bashful as if he wasn’t just talking about your greedy little pussy seconds ago. “Are you…sure? I really don’t mind! I can just go jerk off in my bed like a normal person—”

“Dieter.” Your tone sounded strained, “get in the fucking shower now. Take those ridiculously tight boxers off and get in here.”

Well, you certainly didn’t need to ask Dieter Bravo twice as he scrambled to peel his boxers down over his hips and thighs, tossing the damp fabric outside of the shower. His cock bobbed between his thighs, hard, heavy and the tip was swollen a painful red color. Poor guy.

He climbed over you, situating himself and his cute little tush right next to you with his shoulders gently brushing yours. He spit a glob of saliva into his palm and wrapped his fist around the veiny girth of his cock. “I’ll come fast, I promise. You won’t even have to do anything, okay? Just pretend I’m not here!” His tone was rushed as he squeezed the base of his cock, lolling his head to the side so he could look over at you. His eyeliner was completely smudged now and his lips were swollen with your kisses.

All you could do was nod dumbly, your eyes transfixed by his fist wrapped around his cock. It was as if you were seeing a unicorn for the first time! The unicorn being er—Dieter’s cock.

He looked at your face, and then down at his cock, and then back up at your face. “Hello?” He waved with his freehand, “why are you looking at my cock like that, huh? Are you the only person in the whole state of California who hasn’t seen my cock before?” He was in disbelief, his mouth falling open when he realized that you never had seen his cock.

"I totally thought you'd seen his dick. Practically everyone else has." You remember his ex cruelly teasing you about it one day.

You shook your head, eyes glazed over as you watched his fist slowly twist and pump around his length. “Nope. First time, and it’s like I’m looking at a unicorn!” You exclaimed playfully.

Dieter snorted at your enthusiasm, feeling his heart lurch from his chest, “well, it is sorta like seeing a unicorn for the first time…I suppose?” He chuckled, squeezing the base of his cock for some form of relief. He felt like now was the best time to address the obvious elephant in the room, silly Dieter. “So uh—well, this doesn’t mean anything, right? Because we’re just friends and good friends masturbate together. It's cool, this is super casual!”

Sure, bud. You keep telling yourself that.

You fought the urge to roll your eyes and clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth, spreading your thighs further so you could continue your ministrations with the shower head. “Sure, Dieter. This means absolutely nothing. Just two besties jerking it off, side by side. Totally casual!”

He let out a huff as he pumped his fist faster, “Well, we wouldn’t be in this predicament if those noises you were making didn’t make my cock as hard as a slab of concrete!”

“Dieter, shut up, and get yourself off! Or so help me—”

“Yes ma'am!” He squeaked out.

In tandem you placed the shower head close to your clit once more while he fisted his cock, and when your moans started to intermingle and become one, that’s when your glazed over eyes met once more. He had his lip harshly taken between his teeth, his cock was twisting and pulsing beneath his fist. He leaned in close, lips just barely brushing your bare shoulder where he had dipped his head down to nuzzle you. His eyes flickered upwards towards your face, pupils darkening by the second, “I really want to fuck you right now, baby.” He rasped.

You met his gaze, thighs trembling and your eyes rolling slightly as your orgasm rippled through you, “yeah, you wanna fuck me, Dieter? How badly do you want to fuck me?”

“So fucking bad, baby. You’ve got no idea.” He mewled, “there’s that convenient bench right over there.” He gestured to the shower bench with a coy tilt of his chin, “you can sit right on my cock, if you’d like that…”

“Did you have that bench installed for convenience purposes or for your old man bad back?” You asked teasingly.

He narrowed his eyes at you, glaring playfully before he chuckled, “a bit of both. More-so on the convenience side of things. And, it’s newly installed so you and I would be the first to use it.” He winked coyly.

“Really? Well, your offer is most tempting, Bravo. I’d like to take you up on it and sit on your big fucking cock.”

“Now we’re talking.” He grinned, loosening his fist around his cock so he could offer you a hand and helped you up. Now you were both directly under the stream of water, hands roaming everywhere they could reach. You kissed deeply, giggling in unison when you grabbed his ass and he grabbed yours. He could happily live in this moment forever with you, even if it meant that his skin would inevitably prune and probably fall off.

You backed him up against the shower bench, climbing into his lap as he slowly lowered himself into a sitting position along the marble bench that could easily fit both of you.

You wrapped your own palm around the base of his cock for the first time as you slowly sank down around his girth till he was fully pressed inside of you, bottoming out with a low grunt against your lips. He let his arms loop firmly around your waist, pulling you in as close as he physically could so that your chests were pressed flushed together. He swore he saw heaven behind fluttered lashes when you started to slowly roll your hips into his, bouncing and grinding along his length.

If it wasn’t for his steadfast orgasm, he probably would have lasted longer before he was shooting thick ropes of his cum deep inside of you, but he was a man, after all. And while his cum leaked and dripped from your weeping little hole that was still stuffed full of his cock, he made sure that you got to come again, too. He pistoned his hips upwards at an unruly pace, loving the way that your nails clawed at his back and shoulders, leaving little red crescents in their wake. Maybe I’ll get those tattooed on me later. He briefly thought as you came undone around him, crying out his name.

You stayed seated on his cock for what felt like hours before he gently eased you off him, his cock now soft between his thighs and glistening in a thick, pearlescent ring of your combined releases.

You washed one another’s bodies under the lukewarm stream and he was the first to step out of the shower, grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist and when you emerged, he had a towel waiting for you. You kissed a few more times, gentle pecks of intimacy as you stood side by side in front of the mirror, brushing your teeth and doing your skincare.

“Soo, where are you sleeping tonight?” He suddenly asked with a mouthful of toothpaste. His deep pools of brown boring into yours.

You hadn’t really thought that far if you were being honest…and now with that fresh ‘I just got fucked good’ glow illuminating your features, and the remainder of your high still sizzling, you suddenly feeling nervous all over again.

“Um, well, where do you want me to sleep?”

“I asked you first.” He crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for your response.

“Okay, fair, how about on the count of three we say it together?”

“Deal.” He nods.

“Okay—one, two, three—” you counted off in unison.

“Your bed—my bed.”

You both looked relieved at your answers, letting out breaths you didn’t realize you were holding. “Thank fucking god.” You both laughed.

He kissed you then, mouthful of toothpaste and all. You made a funny squeaking sound when he had unexpectedly kissed you, and the corners of his mouth curved up into a knowing grin. “I’ll get you one of my shirts to wear.” He mumbled into the kiss, pulling back slowly.

When you left the en-suite, you found Dieter already in bed, sitting up with the rolling tray resting in his lap. He had a fresh pair of boxers on, this pair was made of cotton and was far less constricting. He was rolling another joint to smoke before bed when he looked up, smiling softly at your lingering presence in the doorway, wearing nothing but his shirt.

“Well, don’t be shy, bug. Ain’t the first time you’ve slept in my bed.” He winked, patting the empty spot beside him on his massive king sized bed.

You took a deep breath, remembering that this was Dieter Bravo, your best friend and partner in crime. He would always be your best friend.

You made your way over to the empty side of the bed and pulled the covers back so you could climb underneath them.

He finished rolling the joint, grabbing his lighter from the nightstand to spark it up before he paused, looking over his shoulder at you. “Hey, we don’t have to like—do anything, okay?” He reassured you.

“But Dieter, I wanna do stuff with you. It’s just—in your bed it feels…” you trailed off, scratching at the outside of your arm absentmindedly.

He tucked the joint behind his ear and rolled over into his side so he was facing you, using his elbow to prop himself up, “I understand, baby. This is…new for me as well. We can smoke this joint and then make out a little? See where it goes?…”

You nodded, lips curving up into a soft smile that sent his heartbeat racing, “yeah, I’d like that.”

“Me too.” He grinned.

He sparked the joint up between you, taking a few hits before he passed it off to you. This went on a few more times before your bodies just naturally gravitated towards one another, and when the joint died out, he set it down on the tray on his nightstand before his lips found yours.

You kissed like this for hours, simply just enjoying one another’s company and soft touch when the sun began to rise over the Los Angeles landscape. Dieter was uncharacteristically quiet, even for being stoned.

Your fingers were gently dragging through the patches in his beard, playing with his scruff in between kisses. “I can hear you overthinking, Dee.”

“Are you a wizard?” He chuckled, “you can hear my thoughts? That’s crazy!”

“Shh.” You giggled. “I’m right here, baby. You don’t have to yell.”

“Sorry.” He whispered, scooting his body closer to yours. He would absolutely crawl inside of your skin and never leave, but well—-he might go to prison if he did that.

“I’m gonna say something that might sound stupid, but I gotta get it off my chest, okay?” He started, his glazed over eyes met yours as he pressed a few kisses to the underside of your fingertips.

“I’m listening.”

“Okay, so—well, this is just different for me because I don’t normally fuck my friends.”

You gave him a funny look at his admittance, unable to help yourself.

“I’m serious! I don’t fuck my friends—and well, I care about you a ton.Maybe even more than I care about myself? Anyway, I don’t want things to get weird between us tomorrow. Like if you wake up and regret everything that happened, I just want you to tell me, okay? My hopes is that maybe you felt the little spark that I did and if you did we can—”

“Dieter, I promise you I’m not going to wake up tomorrow and regret everything that happened tonight. No matter where this takes us, I’m always going to love you, and you’re always going to be my best friend.” Your words were sincere and directly from your heart and he knew you weren’t just saying shit just to say it.

“I think I just shat my heart out, that was so sweet.” He giggles, nuzzling his nose against yours. “In all seriousness, thank you. I was just afraid that this would ruin our friendship, and I would lose you forever.”

“Never, Dieter. You could never lose me.” You reassured him.

“Good, cause in the morning? I’m making waffles!”

Helen Mirren: Narrator for the Barbie Movie:

Dieter did not in fact make waffles the next morning. Instead, Dieter had his breakfast between your thighs, and then let you order whatever brunch you wanted on his black card

"You can be my sugar baby! I get to eat you out and you can order whatever you want on my card." He murmured between your thighs, mouthful of your pussy.

"That's not how that sort of thing really works, Dieter. But yeah, okay."

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[multimuseficreblogs]

❅ pedro characters a-j ↳ including pedro pascal, dave york, dieter bravo, dio morrissey, din djarin, ezra, frankie morales, jack "agent whiskey" daniels, javi gutierrez, javier pena & joel miller ❅ pedro characters k-z ↳ including pedro pascal, marcus moreno, marcus pike, maxwell lord, max phillips, pero tovar, tim rockford, zach wellison

[avastrasposts]

A Baker's Dozen - One

Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stand alone short stories, all set in the same bakery.

Hello!

This is my first original fic after The Pilot and his Girl and it will be a very different read (just in case you're totally traumatised by The Pilot...😬)

Twelve Pedro boys, twelve short stories, each set in the same bakery. The plan is to post one chapter every Sunday night so hold me to that schedule when my procrastination kicks in!

Warnings won't be very serious, just lots of fluff, lots of food, some mention of drugs because you know some of these Pedro boys are just like that.

Series Master List

@harriedandharassed tagging you in this because you said you wanted to read anything new ❤❤❤

The drawback of being a baker is that your working day starts when others are still tucked in bed with hours left to sleep. Or just coming home from a party. But you don’t mind all that much, there’s a certain tranquil peace to being awake and working in the bakery while the rest of the world sleeps. 

In the warmer months you prop open the back door so that you can hear the birds starting to sing as the sky slowly grows lighter outside, today is just one of those mornings. 

The early morning radio show is on low in the background as you prepare the day. Yesterday's loaves have proofed overnight in the cold storage and are ready for the oven, the pie doughs taken out and softening while you prepare the cookie doughs. 

People don’t often knock on the bakery's back door before you open for the day, but it happens, so when you suddenly hear someone shuffle and knock, you’re not surprised. Wiping your hands on your apron you turn the corner into the small back room. A man is leaning on the door frame, but not the sexy, romance novel leaning. No, this man is leaning in a ‘lean-or-fall-over’ kinda way. His eyes are covered by large black sunglasses that he pulls down as you spot him, a tired but cheeky smirk on his face. 

“Hey, baker girl,” he grins, his voice gravelly like he’s chain smoked all night, “got any sna- oh whoops!” he giggles madly as he loses his balance and tumbles sideways, catching the other door frame before he grabs onto your arms and almost manages to stand up straight. 

“You might need coffee, not snacks,” you say, holding onto him to stop him from falling face forward into your apron.  

“I’m fine,” he grins, pushing himself upright again but still holding on to the door frame, “I just came from this party, were you there?,” he asks, giving you another over the glasses look, this time clearly checking you out as his eyes drag up and down your form, lingering on your pink crocs. 

“Actually, I would’ve remembered if you were there, love the crocs,” he chuckles. 

“What’s wrong with my crocs?” you ask, slightly offended, “They’re great for people like me, you know, people who actually work on Thursdays.” 

“No, no, I mean it, I love your crocs!” the man says, wide eyed and shoving his glasses up in his wild curls, “I have like ten crocs, one pair is pink too.” 

He furrows his eyebrows, giving you a confused look, “Wait, it’s Thursday?” 

“Yeah, five am, Thursday morning,” you say, wondering how to get rid of this disheveled man so that you can get back to the cookie dough. 

“Fuck, oh fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck….” the man groans, bending double and pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes, “I’m so fucked…I thought it was Wednesday.” 

He stands up again and you can’t help but feel sorry for him, he looks devastated. 

“I was meant to fly out to San Antonio yesterday and take my nice to Six Flags for her birthday, and I fucking missed it!” 

He slumps against the door frame and thumps the back of his head against it repeatedly, moaning, “I’m such a fuck up, I’m such a fuck up.” 

“Hey, take it easy, I’m sure it’ll be fine, just apologize and take her another day,” you say, putting your hand on the man’s arm to stop him from giving himself a concussion in your bakery, “I’m sure she’ll understand.” 

“You think?” he says, “I’m not the best at remembering birthdays, I may have missed a few in the past.” 

“Well, then she’ll be mad at you, but all you can do is apologize right? And try to make it up to her as best you can.” 

“Yeah…yeah…maybe you’re right, thanks baker girl.” He gives you a lopsided smile and you notice the smudges of dark eyeliner around his eyes, “How about those snacks? I’m fucking starving.” 

You can’t help but laugh, the man’s a mess but somehow adorable at the same time with his wild hair and stained t-shirt. 

“Sure, I’ll get you something, what do you like?”

“Do you have sausage rolls?” he asks, following you into the kitchen, “I fucking love sausage rolls.”

“What, like those things they made on the Great British Bake Off?” you reply, opening your walk in fridge to survey the snack options. 

“Yeah, I did this movie once, in England, and there was a bakery next to my apartment and whenever I got back from a party, early morning, I’d knock on their back door and they’d sell me these fat sausage rolls, fresh from the oven, fucking amazing.” 

“Sorry, no sausage rolls in this bakery,” you say, “but my cookies will be done soon, if you can wait.” 

You turn back to the man and realize he’s wandering around the kitchen, sticking his nose in your bowls, sniffing loudly. 

“Hey, don’t stick your finger in that,” you say, “Health and Safety are going to have my license if they catch you.”

“Sorry, I’ve just got the munchies, I’ve been high for like, two days,” he says, waving his arms around, “this place is torture for a high pers-OH! Do you know what I love?”

“No,” you sigh, exasperated, “I don’t know what you love.”  

He completely misses your tone as he spins in a circle around the kitchen and you realize that he’s wearing what looks like very expensive pajama pants and no shoes, just socks.

“I love those…what do you call them, like…millionaire’s something?” 

“Millionaire's shortbread?” you ask and he spins around to you with a big grin. 

“Yes! Those! With like the chocolate and the peanut butter and they’re like the best Reese’s ever, only even more fucking amazing. Can you make those?”  “I don’t know, maybe,” you begin and the man actually falls to his knees, shuffling over the floor to you. 

“Please, I’ll do anything, I’m dying here, beautiful baker girl, make me happy!”

“Are you asking me to bake for you or proposing?” you laugh, this man is too ridiculous as he grins up at you. 

“If you make them for me, I won’t marry you, but there are many other things I can do,” he says, pulling down his dark sunglasses from his head and winking at you from over the edge, his cheeky grin making it impossible to scowl at him. 

“Fine, I’ll make them for you, just get up from my floor, please,” you say, reaching for his hand. He takes yours with a bright smile, kissing the back of it, before he stumbles to his feet and follows you over to your big workbench.

“I’m Dieter, by the way. Can I sit here?” he asks, pointing to the stool that stands next to the bench. 

“Nice to meet you Dieter,” you say, “sure, go ahead, it’s got wheels on it though so be careful.” 

“Awesome,” Dieter says and sits down, immediately speeding across the floor with a kick of his socked feet. He stops himself from crashing into the fridge door by grabbing on to the handle before he shoots off again, rolling all the way over to the open back door. 

“Don’t fall out through the door please,” you call after him and you hear him giggle, a second later he comes spinning into the kitchen again. 

“This thing is awesome, I need to buy one for my house.” 

“Happy you’re enjoying yourself,” you laugh and walk to where yesterday’s bakes are stacked on trays. You’d made a layer of shortbread yesterday, you were planning on making lemon bars but Millionaire’s shortbread will work too. As you bring it over to your work station Dieter rolls past you and stops by the bench.  “Can I help?” he asks, looking up at you, his sunglasses back in his messy hair. He’s kinda cute when you think about it, gorgeous brown eyes, and the smile he’s giving you is open and curious with an adorable dimple. 

“Yeah, sure, you can be in charge of peanuts,” you say, walking over to the dry storage, “They need to be bashed into chunks with a rolling pin, something tells me that’s something you can probably handle.” 

“That sounds fun, please, direct me,” he says, kicking himself over to the storage cupboard on the stool. 

“Oops, sorry,” he giggles, grabbing hold of your hips to stop himself from crashing into the storage door, “I kicked too hard that time.” 

“Go easy there, Dieter,” you laugh as he untangles himself from the stool and stands up. You get on your tiptoes to grab the peanuts and suddenly realize he’s still holding on to your hips, standing close behind you. You swear you feel his nose brush the side of your head, a quick inhale from him, and then he steps back, letting go. 

“Peanuts?” he says, leaning past you and reaching up to grab the bag sitting just out of your reach. His arm brushes over yours and he’s suddenly very close again, his citrusy after shave, mingling with the heady sweet smoke of weed, fills your senses. 

“Uhh…y-yeah,” you stutter, “thanks. And the dark chocolate if you can reach it.” 

“Sure, this one?” he asks, grabbing the bag of Valrhona from the shelf. This time his chest is pressed against your back, you really should move out of his way, but he’s right behind you, almost pinning you in place, as he has to stretch to his full length to reach. And you find that you don’t mind at all, he’s warm and solid behind you, and this is more action than you’ve had in months. 

“That’s the one, thanks,” you say, trying to keep your voice neutral. 

Dieter brings it down to your level and you take it from him, expecting him to step back and give you room to go back to the work bench. But instead he stays right behind you, and this time you really do feel him bend down and brush his nose over your cheek, down to where your neck meets your shoulder. 

“You smell delicious, like a cookie,” he mumbles and your heart literally skips a beat. 

“Th-thanks,” you splutter and when Dieter steps back, letting you move, you avoid his eyes, feeling your cheeks burn. 

“S-so the…umm…rolling pin is on that shelf there,” you say, pointing down to your right, “and there’s a measuring cup too, just…umm…just get a cup of peanuts, and put them in a plastic bag and bash away. Just wash your hands first.” 

“Ok, I can do that,” he says with a grin and he walks behind you to the sink in the corner while you measure out the peanut butter into a sauce pan. 

Dieter gets to work on the peanuts with great enthusiasm until you tell him they’re broken up enough. 

“Just leave them there, you can come here and stir the peanut butter while I get the caramel ready,” you instruct him and he ambles over in just his socks. 

“What happened to your shoes? If you don’t mind me asking,” you point at his stripey, multicolored socks. 

“I’m not sure,” Dieter glances down at his feet, “I had shoes when I left home, I’m sure of it, but after that it gets a bit hazy.” 

“You’ve really been partying since Tuesday?” you ask and he nods. 

“Yeah, it was a good party so we just kinda kept going,” he grins, “there was a huge pool and we all went in. Actually, maybe that’s where I lost my shoes?” 

“Maybe, you could go back and look for them?” 

“And miss out on baking with a pretty baker girl? Never!” he chuckles and you’re not totally sure he’s being serious or not, but the grin he gives you makes you hope he is. 

“I think this is melted,” he says, draggin the spoon through the silky smooth peanut butter, showing you the bowl. 

“Yeah, that looks done. Just pass me that tray of shortbread and I’ll pour the caramel on top.” 

“Can I lick the bowl?” he asks, looking over your shoulder as you let the thick golden liquid pool on top of the shortbread. 

“I’m pretty good at scraping, there’s usually nothing left to lick,” you say, dragging the spatula around the edge. 

“Can’t you be a bit sloppy, just for me?” Dieter grins, standing entirely too close, “It smells so good, I wanna taste it.” 

This time he’s definitely flirting, the salacious smile on his face while he winks at you, makes you both roll your eyes and squash down butterflies on the inside. 

“Fine, I’ll leave some for you,” you smile, looking back at the shortbread again and scraping out caramel, leaving the last of it on the spatula. Putting the bowl to the side, you hold out the spatula for him. But instead of taking it, he grabs hold of your hand, and licks the caramel off the spatula with a long swipe of his tongue. His eyes don’t leave yours and the whole thing is so over the top you burst out laughing. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, tone it down maybe?” you snort, as he abruptly stops licking, letting go of your hand. 

“What?” he blushes, “I saw it in this movie, it looked sexy.” 

“Yeah, in a porno maybe!” you say, handing him the spatula, and only the spatula.

He takes it with a sheepish look, “Sorry, that usually works.” 

“Not in this bakery, I have to work with that spatula when you’re gone, I can’t have it being used as a porno prop, Dieter.” You grab a new spatula from the holder on the counter and start smoothing out the caramel. 

“You do smell good though,” Dieter says, still looking sheepish, “that wasn’t just a line.” 

“Thanks,” you shoot him a quick smile, working over the caramel, “you smell good too, underneath all that weed funk.” 

At this he grabs the front of his t-shirt and sniffs it, wrinkling his nose, “Yeah, it’s kinda obvious, huh.” 

“Can’t believe you partied for forty-eight hours, I’d be dead on my feet,” you say, mixing the peanut butter into the caramel layer, sprinkling in some of the crushed peanuts, “Do you want coffee or something while we wait for this to set?” 

“Fuck yes, coffee sounds amazing!” Dieter exclaims, dropping the spatula from his mouth, “And this stuff is amazing too, I’d eat a bowl of just this.” 

“You’d die of a sugar rush if you did,” you laugh, sliding the tray into the large fridge and setting a timer on your phone, “C’mon, the coffee machine is out front.” 

One of the advantages of being the sole owner of the bakery was that you got to decide what to skimp on, and what to splurge on. And the espresso machine was something you’d really splurged on. For a shop that mainly sold take out baked goods, it was way over the top, but it meant you always had great coffee on hand for your early mornings. The machine was already up and running, humming quietly as you started preparing two shots. 

“How do you take it, Dieter?” you ask and he winks at you.  “Anyway you wanna give it to me, baker girl,” he grins and when you sigh loudly, he laughs and holds up his hands in defense. “C’mon! I had to! You set it up perfectly!” 

“How do you take your coffee?” you emphasis and glare at him, but your smile is breaking through and he gives you a playful poke as he comes up and stands next to the machine. 

“Extra everything, cream, sugar, any of those coffee syrups if you have ‘em.” 

“Why am I not surprised?” you smirk, “A guy who loves Millionaire’s Shortbread, of course he wants extra everything. I bet you’re lining up outside your local Starbucks the morning they start selling Pumpkin Spice.” 

“I would never drink Starbucks!” he protests, “Fucking vile coffee and the worst of corporate America. But you can’t beat a good pumpkin spice if you’ve got quality coffee.” 

“I’ve only got great coffee here, but no syrup, you want a latte? Double shot espresso?” 

“Please,” he says, leaning against the counter next to the espresso machine as he looks over the front of your little shop, crossing his arms. You can’t help the glance up at his arms, the t-shirt hanging on for dear life as it clings to his biceps and broad shoulders. The many rings on his fingers look tiny on his large hands as he grips the outside of his arms, and you’re temporarily distracted by them, and his close proximity. 

The hiss of the machine pulls you back to reality, coffee sputtering out of the spouts into the cup. You glance back up at Dieter and find him watching you with a crooked smile, a dimple in his cheek. 

“What?” you say, looking back at the machine and begin to steam the milk. 

“You really are beautiful,” he says, almost matter of factly, “especially when you zone out.” 

“It’s early, and I’ve been up since two am, but thanks, I guess,” you reply, handing him the latte and pointing to the sugar bowl on the counter next to the till. 

“I wasn’t trying to make a move or anything,” he says, sounding slightly hurt, “I just wanted to tell you I think you’re gorgeous.” 

“No, I’m sorry,” you say, immediately regretting your tone, “I’m just not used to compliments I guess, I didn’t mean to sound so rude. I should’ve just said thanks,” you look over at him and give him a smile, “Thanks Dieter.” 

“You’re welcome,” he replies, smiling back. 

You knock out the used coffee grounds and fill it up again to make your own coffee. Dieter reaches over and grabs four sugar cubes and drops them in the latte, stirring while he watches you work. He’s watching you closely again and it makes your cheeks heat up. He’s got a strange energy of childish mayhem and intense magnetism, chaos that’s either going to make you laugh until your sides hurt or fuck you until you can’t walk straight for a week. And you’re not sure which one you want. 

Your coffee done, you add a splash of milk and lean against the counter opposite Dieter, taking a careful sip. He’s wrapped both his large hands around the thick glass and is delicately licking the foam, drawing a pattern in it with his tongue. You watch him for a few seconds until he notices you and gives you a sheepish grin. 

“What?” he asks, copying your tone from earlier. 

“You really think I’m pretty?” you ask, the question slipping out before you have a chance to stop it, immediately regretting your filterless mouth. 

But he gives you a disarming smile, “Gorgeous. Gorgeous baker girl that smells like cookies and caramel and chocolate.” 

“You’re just high,” you can’t help but scoff at him, but he just shakes his head. 

“No, not at all.” 

He doesn’t say anything else, just looks at you, the silence stretching between you until you think something will have to snap and it’s probably going to be you. 

The phone saves you, the timer going off just as you don’t think you can stand another second of his chocolate brown eyes looking at you like you’re the snack he’s been asking for. 

“Thecaramelisset,” you rush out, breaking eye contact and hurrying back into the kitchen as if another second in the fridge would ruin the whole thing. Dieter comes in behind you at a slower pace, still drinking his coffee. 

You pull out the tray and set it down on the workbench before turning on the burner under a saucepan of water, setting up a water bath. 

“I’m just gonna melt this chocolate, and then I’ll spread it on top, it’ll set pretty quickly. And then it’s done.” You work quickly, too flustered to look at him and he hoovers just to your side, watching your movements. 

The chocolate melts fast, you only need a thin layer, and then you pour it over the caramel. You scrape the bowl clean but leave a generous amount of chocolate on the spatula, giving it to Dieter. 

“Don’t burn your mouth, it’s still warm”, you say when he takes it. He doesn’t grab your hand this time, but his fingertips brushes over yours as he nods, and it sends a sharp little jolt through you. 

You turn back to the almost finished shortbread but can’t help glancing over at him. His pink tongue comes out and licks the chocolate, this time it’s not over the top, nothing provocative about it, he’s not even looking at you. But you swear you can feel every stroke of his tongue on your own skin, burning hot and wet.

You swallow and tear your eyes away, blindly reaching for the crushed peanuts, taking a handful and scattering it across the chocolate. The Millionaire’s Shortbread is done and you slide the tray back into the fridge, it only needs a few minutes. Dieter remains by the counter, finishing off the chocolate on the spatula as you start to clean up the kitchen and bring out the cookie dough that still needs to be taken care of. You see Dieters eyes widen as he sees the first scoop of dough land on the baking tray. 

“Is that chocolate chip,” he almost whispers reverently, spatula forgotten, as he slowly comes over to stare down into the bowl. 

“You want to try it? It’s double chocolate chip with browned butter.” 

He makes a gurgling noise in the back of his throat, tilting his head back before he looks at you and nods, “Please, it smells so good.” 

You grab a tasting spoon, giving him a generous scoop and watch with a smile as he puts it in his mouth. His eyes close of their own volition as he moans, far too enticingly, around the spoon. 

“Oh my god…” he sighs, slowly chewing the dough, “This is like heaven, better than sex, better than fucking coke.” 

“Knock yourself out,” you chuckle, “it’s not healthy but it’s sure as hell better for you than coke.” 

“And sex?” he asks with a wink, still rolling the dough around his mouth. 

“They’re probably on par, but this is tastier than cum.” 

Dieter nearly chokes, coughing loudly as you giggle. Between repeated attempts at clearing his throat he points his finger at you accusingly, trying to grin between his coughing.

“You’re…” he coughs again, “You’re a dirty baker girl!” he finally manages, grinning widely as you go back to scooping dough, still giggling. 

“I can’t believe I said that, but you did serve it up perfectly.” 

“I did, but I never thought your mind was that filthy, I’m appalled” he laughs, placing a hand on his chest in a mock gesture of shock. “Better than cum huh? You have a lot of experience in that department?” 

Now he’s winking again, poking to get more details out of you. So instead you take another tasting spoon, scoop up more dough and put it straight into his mouth to shut him up. It works, he grins around the spoon and smacks his lips at the taste. 

“So fucking good, definitely better than cum,” he smirks, earning an eye roll from you. “Do you wanna taste it?” 

“I’m good, I’ve already tasted the dough many times,” you reply, careful to specify that you’re talking about dough. 

“Maybe not like this though,” Dieter says, suddenly bending down and pressing his lips against yours. It almost makes you jump, his soft lips against yours, his aftershave, it all envelops you in an instance. He’s not touching you anywhere else, just your lips, and you can’t taste him, his mouth is still closed. Maybe you should push him off, the thought flits through your mind for a split second. But you want to taste him, taste the cookie dough you know is delicious, mingled with him, so you part your lips, your tongue coming out. 

Dieter lets a quiet groan slip out as he part his lips, letting you in, opening his mouth and tilting his head to come closer. You hear the spoon clatter to the floor as his hand comes up and cups your cheek, his big hand reaching behind your neck, another stifled groan from him. He tastes of sugar, coffee and chocolate, all flavors mingling into something enticing that pulls you closer.

There’s nothing delicate about this kiss now, you lick into his mouth, and he offers you all the space you want, holding you close and moaning softly as your tongues tangle.

“Touch my hair,” he mumbles, breathing into your mouth, “I want to feel your hands in my hair.” 

“They’re all sticky, Dieter,” you protest but you feel him shake his head, his lips brushing over yours. 

“I don’t care, touch me, hold me, I want to smell like you when I leave,” his tongue slips between your lips, and you run your hands through his hair. You can feel it sticking, tugging at his wild locks but he just groans, his hands holding you tighter and, encouraged, you let your own hands run across his body, eliciting another loud groan from him. 

Tension is building between the two of you, he is growing hard against your belly, unmistakably turned on and doing nothing to hide it. You can feel heat radiating from your own core, so scorching he must feel it too through the thin fabric of his pajama pants. If this doesn’t stop soon he’ll have you bent over the workbench in a minute, and Health and Safety would definitely have something to say about that. 

With a groan and tremendous effort, you put your hands on his chest and push him away. His lips chase yours for a few seconds, eyes closed, a protest coming from him, before he looks down at you with a sigh. 

“You taste even better than you smell,” he says, not letting go of your cheek, his other hand still around your waist. 

“The cookie dough goes really well with the coffee,” you reply, your mouth quirking up in a smile and he matches it, a dopey look on his face. 

“Amazing,” he breathes, "you're amazing, baker girl.” 

His adoration makes you tremble, you feel the heat in your cheeks, and he sees it, leaning into your lips. He stops and looks at you for a beat, to ask for your permission, and when you don’t pull away he presses a soft kiss to your warm mouth, so different from the hasty, heated kiss you just shared. This one lasts only for a few seconds, gentle, before he pulls back, his hand slowly trailing along your check. 

“I should probably call for my ride,” he says softly, “it’ll take a while to get here.” 

“Ok,” you nod, “the shortbread should be done too.” 

“Ok,” he replies, but he doesn’t make a move to leave and you can’t seem to take your eyes off him. 

“I really should…” he sighs, tracing his fingertips over your cheek again, “call that ride.” 

“Go, do that, I’ll cut the shortbread, we can have some while we wait for your ride.” You lightly put your hand on his warm chest and push him away, smiling, but you really want to bunch your hand in the soft t-shirt and pull him closer. 

“Ok,” he says, louder this time, as if making up his mind. He shoves his hand in his pocket, miraculously finding his phone intact as you bring the tray out of the fridge. 

The whole thing has set into layers, so you take a sharp knife and start cutting rectangles, slipping them up and onto the tray that goes in your display case, some go into a take away box, two you put on a separate plate and then look around for Dieter, spotting his broad back out by the back door. Just as you come over to him he ends his call, turning around to you with a smile. 

“My ride will be here in about twenty minutes,” he says, following you to the doorstep and sitting down. You sink down next to him, maybe a little bit closer than necessary, but he’s wide and takes up almost the whole door frame. Your cookie dough is still waiting for you, you’ll be playing catch up with your baking for the rest of the morning, but it’ll be worth it. This chaotic, disheveled man has made your morning a lot more exciting than usual and you’re a little bit sad to see him go. 

“Here, what you came for,” you say, holding out the plate, and Dieter takes one of the Millionaire’s Shortbread. 

“I can’t believe you made these just for me,” he grins and bites into it. You watch his face, this is your favorite part of baking, watching people when they taste the finished thing. And Dieter doesn’t disappoint, he groans, loudly, grabbing onto your arm and leaning his forehead against your shoulder, his whole body reacting to the flavors in his mouth as he chews. 

“I Iive here now,” he moans, “I’m giving up my career, I’m going to live in your bakery and pay you to feed me for the rest of my life.” He lifts his head up and takes another big bite of the shortbread, groaning again as he looks at you, his eyebrows pulled together, big brown eyes pleading. “How is this so good?” he moans, his tongue coming out to catch an errant peanut crumb, “you’ve got to taste this.” 

He holds up the last bite of the shortbread to you, and you open your mouth, letting him place it between your lips. You feel his fingers brush over them as he pulls back, his thumb coming up to swipe over your bottom lip. 

“It’s really good, I’m pretty happy with this,” you say, trying to not chew with your mouth open as Dieter looks at you, his eyes on your lips.

“Do you want another one?” you ask, holding up the plate and Dieter nods fervently and groans again as he takes a bite. 

“I can’t decide, this or sex, which is better,” he chuckles, and you nod. You know the cake is good, but you can’t help but wonder if sex with Dieter might not be even better. 

You sit side by side in the early morning sunshine, eating the cakes. Dieter soon finishes his second one and cracks the lid on the take away box you’ve given him, sneaking a third one with a childish grin that makes you happy to see. 

“Seriously, I live here now, I’m moving in tomorrow,” he mumbles, moaning between bites, leaning on you, his head on your shoulder. 

“You do that Dieter, I might even let you lick the bowl once in a while,” you say, patting his messy hair. 

“Lick the bowl or lick your bowl, baker girl?” he giggles and you give him a light smack, shaking your head. 

“Enough with the porn jokes,” you scold him, no menace to your words, he can hear the smile in your voice and giggles again. 

“Can I put my head in your lap?” he asks, “Nothing weird, I promise, I’m just really tired suddenly.” 

“Ok, sure, but your ride should be here soon.” 

“Yeah, I just wanna relax my eyes for a while….” Dieter yawns and slips down the stairs to sit on the last step, hooking his arm around your hips and putting his head on your lap. The warm weight of him on your legs is actually comforting, his arm a steady hold behind you. Without thinking about it you start carding your fingers through his hair, adding to the sticky mess, making it stand on end, but he doesn’t seem to mind. It takes him minutes to fall asleep, a low rumbling snore coming from him. 

You keep stroking his head for a few more minutes before you carefully lift his head up and slip out from under him, letting his arm be his pillow. You need to go back to baking, your first customers will be arriving soon and you haven’t even put the cookies in the oven, you want them fresh and warm when the early morning commuters arrive. 

Back in the kitchen you quickly scoop the rest of the dough on the trays and get them in the oven and start stocking the display case out front with what’s already done. You’re just sliding the last croissants into the tray when the opening hour strikes and you flip the sign on the front door. You’ve been listening out back for a car to pull up but you haven’t heard anything and once the morning rush starts, you’re swamped and a couple of hours pass before you even realize. When it finally calms down you wipe down the counter and clean your hands before checking out by the back door. It’s still open, but Dieter is gone, as is the take away box, not a trace of your chaotic, magnetic early morning visitor. 

Hours later, as you’re about to close up for the day, a delivery van pulls up in front of the shop. A man in a uniform jumps out and comes rushing in with a box and an extravagant bouquet of flowers with a vase.  “Delivery for you, miss,” he says, handing you a device to sign your name on, and then the flowers and the box. 

“Thanks,” you say but the man is already halfway out the door. 

The flowers fill the small shop with their scent, and you place them on the counter, next to the till, stopping to stick your nose into the white lilac and breathing deeply before getting the shop closed up.

You flip the sign and take the box into the kitchen, the back door is still open to let the warm spring air in. Sinking down on the stairs where you sat with Dieter just this morning, you open the box. It contains another box and inside that, a note. But there’s also a mouth watering, rich, smell of pastry and meat coming from the box. Intrigued, you open the lid, only to find a thermal container inside, like a small version of the ones used to keep delivery pizza warm. Inside are six fat, delicious looking sausages rolls. Your stomach gives a hungry grumble and you immediately grab one, laughing as you remember Dieter’s first request this morning; sausage rolls, like the ones he bought in England after party nights. 

The sausage roll really is as delicious as it looks and you grab a second one before you pick up the note that came with them. 

It's a double folded piece of paper, so thick it almost looks like part of a canvas. On the inside a note is scribbled in a looped, flowing handwriting. 

“Next time I’m asking you on a date, baker girl /D” 

Part Two

If you want to make Dieter's Millionaire's Shortbread, here's the recipe I used.

[chiriwritesstuff]

The New Girl in Tinseltown - Chapter 2 - Devil's Advocate

A Dieter Bravo x Actress! Reader PR Marriage AU

Previous Chapter │ Series Masterlist │ Next Chapter

Chapter Rating: E (18+, MDNI)

Chapter Summary: A look into Dieter's point of view at the night of our fated trip to Vegas. How does America's favorite Bad Boy™ end up married to America's New Sweetheart™?

Chapter Warnings and Tags: (Not So) meet cute, PR Relationships, what happens in Vegas ends up in the headlines, Dieter just does not give a FUCK, Smut, SO MUCH SMUT, a look at the inner workings of Tinseltown and the sleaziness it comes with, Dry Humping, A hell of a lot of dirty banter, is that yearning?, mentions of devious deeds by sleazy people in show business, our loverboy makes a 'Pride and Prejudice reference, SLOW BURN WE DONT KNOW IT, this is unhinged, no use of y/n, No beta we die like men!

Word Count: 8K (whoops!)

A/N: I know, I know, I KNOW. I promised the release of this chapter weeks ago, but I got struck by the not-covid-but-felt-like-covid virus and managed to get myself into the biggest writing slump. I really do apologize for that, and I want to give a big thank you to everyone who stuck around and showed and shared love and support for the first chapter and this series! I can confidently say that the writing slump has finally passed, and we can finally get this crazy show on the road...

An (almost) year before that night in Vegas.

“Dieter, I'm expecting you to be on your best behavior tonight."

Dieter scowls at his publicist while his groomer diligently applies yet another round of pomade in an attempt to tame his unruly curls. "Define best behavior."

"They're about to launch a new girl into the circuit, some unknown that the studio thinks will become the next girl next door," his publicist responds, tapping away at his MacBook. "She's a genuinely sweet thing, all doe-eyed and untouched by the suits. Apparently, she's so sweet that Feldman-"

“Let me guess,” Dieter deadpans, "Feldman wants to fuck her," he rolls his eyes at that, slightly curious at the prospect of fresh blood. "Why am I not surprised?"

"That's not the best part," his publicist quips, his eyes locking with Dieter's over the rim of his laptop. "The studio wants to protect their asset, so much so that they hired-"

"No fucking way, they hired the Shark for this broad? What? Does she have beer-flavored nipples or something?" Dieter exclaims, his curiosity piqued. "Is she really that sweet?"

His publicist's mouth quirks into a small smirk. "The sweetest, most fucking forbidden fruit, my friend. So sweet that the Shark doesn't want you within ten feet of his client."

"Oh yeah?" Dieter replies, his eyes raised.

"Hell yeah. He tried to corner me earlier, warning me to keep my client's - and I quote - Dirty fucking paws off of his Doll-"

"Doll, huh? I bet I could tap that," Dieter challenges, his chest puffed out.

Dieter's publicist chuckles to himself, shaking his head. "Dieter, I know you believe you're God's gift to the masses, but trust me, this Doll? She's a bit out of your league."

Dieter leans back in his chair, a sly grin forming on his face. "Out of my league, huh? That just makes it more interesting. The thrill of the chase, my friend."

His publicist raises an eyebrow, skeptical. "Dieter, I've seen you chase plenty, but this Doll is different. She's not like the others. There's an innocence about her that even your charm might struggle to crack."

Dieter smirks, undeterred. "Well, we'll see about that. The forbidden fruit always tastes the sweetest, doesn't it?"

The publicist lets out a resigned sigh. "Just remember, Dieter, not every fruit is meant to be plucked."

"What is this event even for?" Dieter counters, appraising himself as his stylist smooths the fabric of his suit, a deep emerald green number with a crisp obsidian button-down. He pouts at the mirror, glancing at his publicist and his agent behind him. "It's not the Nickelodeon Kids Choice Awards again, is it?"

"Why? So you could be caught doing blow off a toilet bowl seat like last year? I'm still doing damage control for that, you know," his agent deadpans. "You're in luck; it's the MTV Movie Awards-"

"... and this is Doll's debut, huh? Is she up for an award or something?"

"Several, actually. Surprisingly, her last film gained quite the following-"

"... let me guess, it's some rom-com," Dieter interjects, a hint of disinterest in his tone. "What are the categories?"

"Three, to be exact." His agent smirks into his cognac. "Best Female Lead, Female Breakout Star, and Best Kiss-"

"Best Kiss? Seriously?" Dieter retorts incredulously, his eyes widening. "What's the name of her movie? I might need to see it for myself-"

"Dieter, level with me. Are you gonna keep your dirty fucking paws off of the Shark's asset?" his publicist sighs, giving him a stern look. "As much as I want to shove my foot up his fucking ass, I don't have the energy to have him breathing down my back the entire fucking night-" he looks off into Dieter's direction, who is currently on your Wikipedia page. He frowns. "Dieter, do you hear me?"

"What?" Dieter snaps, slamming his phone onto his seat.

"Can you manage to be on your best behavior tonight? Stay clear of-"

"No. I mean, sure, fine, whatever-" Dieter interrupts, his tone dismissive.

"Dieter-"

"I heard you! I promise to stay away from her, but the real question is, are you able to keep her away from me?" He smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

The (not-so meet cute) at the MTV Movie Awards.

"Dieter!" you shout, hastily making your way toward him, clearly a few drinks in. "Surprised to see you here!" you shout excitedly, a little wobble in your step as you approach him. 

You adorn a sleek silver gown, your hair elegantly swept to one side, and your radiant face contrasting vividly with the venue's intense lights. Dieter finds himself momentarily breathless as he gazes at you, captivated by your ethereal presence, akin to an angel descending into the depths of hell. "Fuck me," he murmurs under his breath as you draw near, the collar around his neck suddenly feeling constrictive as he nervously swallows. "What the hell? I never get nervous around women," he mutters to himself, his eyes tracing the entirety of your figure. His pants grow notably tighter, his attention fixated on the hypnotic sway of your hips.

He greets you with a nervous smile as you come face to face, tenderly planting a kiss on your cheek. His eyes close momentarily as he savors your delicate scent, a sensation that electrifies his chest and courses through his veins, prompting his hands to instinctively caress the back of your head as he subtly tries to capture another whiff. A subtle sense of pride swells within him as he notices the blush unexpectedly blooming across your skin, its warmth cascading down your cleavage.

Forbidden fucking fruit indeed. 

"Doll," he attempts to say smoothly, a hint of nervousness lacing his voice. "I've heard so much about you. Congrats on your wins tonight; they're truly well-deserved!"

"Really?" you suddenly squeal, and Dieter feels like he could get lost in your energy. It's pure, sweet, and so inherently innocent—the childlike wonder of being thrust into the limelight, untarnished by the sleazy underbelly of Hollywood. He can't help but internally frown, foreseeing the inevitable vultures in suits trying to get a piece of you. Their insatiable hunger for new, sweet flesh is something he knows all too well.

"Well, yeah, Doll, you killed it, as expected. Winning tonight and sweeping all your nominations was a given," he muses, casually leaning against his chair. As he leans towards you, a subconscious desire prompts him to take another whiff of your perfume, desperately trying to commit its essence to memory amid the haze of his coke-induced high. He can't resist burying his nose in your hair, eyes closing as he takes you in once more. 

"Dieter-" you question his sudden boldness, a nervous chuckle escaping you. 

"I'm sorry, baby-" he moans into your neck, his hands traveling down the length of your back. "You must tell me what the name of your perfume is, its divine-"

"Oh," you laugh as Dieter pulls you into him tighter, groaning as his hands travel dangerously close down your hips. "It's 'Missing Person' by-"

"Doll," a voice emerges from behind the two of you, accompanied by a stern clearing of someone's throat. Dieter's expression darkens as he recognizes the owner of the voice, but not before planting one final teasing kiss against your throat. With a smirk playing on his lips, he straightens up and turns to confront the perpetually annoyed yet annoyingly handsome face of the man Hollywood dubs 'The Shark'- also known as the most ruthless of publicists in all of Tinseltown, protecting his clients with an iron fist so strong no one ever thinks of crossing him.

Unless they wanted a cease and desist letter shoved so far up their assholes... without any fucking lube.   

Dieter gets it, though. If he were in his shoes and he had a client like you? All sweet and pure with the face of an angel but a body curated by the Devil himself?

Well, he would fuck your brains out and make you forget your name first, but that's beside the point. The point is, he gets it, he really fucking does.  

"Well well well," Dieter croons as he holds his hand up towards your publicist. "It's been a long time, Shark. Tell me, did you have to call ahead to make sure that some poor bloke's mangled testicles made it onto your plate for tonight, or did you rip someone's balls off fresh on-site?" he snarks with the raise of his eyebrow, shaking his head as your publicist stares at his outstretched hand in greeting. Dieter scoffs as he retreats his hand, placing it on his hip.  

"Bravo," Your publicist grits through clenched teeth as he tries to appear as unbothered as possible. "Aren't you a little old to be here tonight? The rumors aren't true, you know. Fucking girls close to half your age doesn't keep you young, but I suppose it makes sense, considering a woman your age would know better-"

"Shark, I won't tolerate you talking like that in the presence of an actual earth-bound angel. Just because she's young doesn't mean she doesn't know right from wrong-" Dieter retorts, flashing you a smoldering smile. "... you know how to handle yourself, don't you, Doll? You don't need some uptight prick telling you what you can and cannot do, right?" he winks, a slight puff to his chest.

You visibly shiver at his cheeky insinuation, nodding. "Right," you breathe, taking a hasty gulp of your champagne. "I'm 29 years old, I don't need you defending my 'honor' like I'm some virginal maiden-"

"Well, when my client has far too many drinks in her and doesn't understand the kind of man she's in the presence of-"

"The Devil, right?" Dieter exclaims, pointing to himself. "A no-good washed-up actor who fucks anything with two legs while high off my rocker, who just so happens to be good at what I do with the Oscar in my shitter to prove it? Don't you think she knows all of this? My bare ass isn't on the front page of TMZ weekly because I'm a nobody, baby."

"Oh my god, Dieter," you gush, clapping your hands together. "I loved you in-"

"Doll," your publicist interrupts, a firm hand on your shoulder. "You have that meeting with Favreau at the Beverley Hills in 30 minutes. As much as we would love to stay and chat... we have our jobs to get to, right Doll?" your publicist says to you sweetly, his hand grazing your arm. He clears his throat, nodding at Dieter. "Bravo, it was stimulating, as always," he deadpans with a hint of finality, pulling on your elbow like a lost puppy on a leash. Dieter swallows as he witnesses your light dimming from your face, a small frown on your face as you try to remain cordial, a fake smile etched on your face.  

"It was nice meeting you, Dieter," you almost whisper, pulling him into one last hug. "... maybe we'll just run into each other again soon?" You quickly whisper in his ear, and the thought of the two of you meeting up in secret thrills him to no end. His dick certainly twitches at the prospect. 

Dieter takes one last whiff of your scent, his eyes closing as he wills the time to stand still, not wanting to lose the warmth radiating from your aura. He presses one last kiss on your cheek, his fingers caressing the spot as he gives you a genuine smile.  

"... it wouldn't be soon enough, baby."

He gives The Shark one last salute, flipping him off once his back is toward him. “Fucking asshole cockblock,” he mutters to himself, patting his suit pocket for his little baggie of E. He pinches the baggie between his fingers, looking at its contents in silent contemplation.  I guess if I can't get the girl, at least I can get the high, right?

The morning after.

Dieter is face down on his sofa in his boxers and his robe, groaning from the after-effects of his debauchery just a few hours before. As if his skull is splitting into two, he winces as he turns himself onto his back, staring aimlessly into his ceiling as his iPhone suddenly starts to go off from under him.

Sighing, he blindly reaches for his phone, one eye open as he squints into the tiny, shattered screen.

TMZ NEWS FLASH! Up-and-coming Actress who swept MTV awards show last night being groped by Resident Playboy Dieter Bravo? Her publicist sweeps in to save our New "It" Girl in Tinseltown from the grasp of the Devil himself-

Dieter scoffs as he swipes the notification away, his eyes scanning the next headline.

AP NEWS ALERT: Dieter Bravo seen kissing Rising Actress at MTV Movie Awards last night, is a new romance brewing between the Fresh-Faced Actress and Playboy Lothario Dieter Bravo?

"Dieter," his publicist groans as he walks into the room, picking up a crumpled pair of boxer briefs off the sofa, and throws himself on it, pinching the space between his eyebrows as he shakes his head. "What the hell did I tell you? Stay away from The Shark's client, don't grope her in front of him! Can't you just listen to me for once?"

"It was innocent! I kept my hands at a respectable distance from her ass," Dieter retorts, throwing his phone across the room. "I didn't even make a move—"

"That's not the point, Dieter!" his publicist spits back, pulling out his phone. "Do you realize how much this guy despises you? I'm good at my job, but The Shark? I can't go against a god—"

"You're making him out to be some untouchable—"

"...because he is untouchable, Dieter! Do you even know he's buddies with Feldman? After learning about your stunt last night, he's considering pulling you from the project."

"Please," Dieter scoffs, rolling his eyes. "They need me more than I need them! I'm practically doing them a favor, signing on to this fucking movie. They're not going to pull Dieter Bravo from a sinking ship! It's just scare tactics!"

"Yeah, well, you know what they say. The pussy is stronger than god, right?" his publicist replies, scrolling through his phone. "Feldman didn't appreciate your hands on his girl, and now he's out for blood. I warned you about this, D. Is some girl worth losing a multi-million dollar contract? Do you want to go back to doing 'surprise guest star' roles on cable TV? I heard they're thinking of rebooting 'Suits', it might be a good fit for you-"

"So what do I need to do then?" Dieter fires back, a joint between his lips. "I assume I'll be needing to make a public statement or some shit? Keep the old bastard happy?"

"It's funny you mention that D. I have an email from The Shark himself, with a list of what he wants you to say in your statement, promising he'll back the fuck off if you promise to not go within ten feet of his asset-"

"Have you ever heard of 'Missing People' perfume?" Dieter suddenly asks, taking a hit off his joint, his eyes following the thick plume of smoke as he leans back into the sofa. "Missing... Woman?" he mumbles to himself absentmindedly, licking his lips. "Fuck, what did she say it was? I need to stop going to these things blitzed out of my fucking mind-"

"Dieter, focus. Are we releasing the statement or not?"

"MARCUS!" Dieter calls out for his PA suddenly, ignoring his publicist as he grabs the phone out of his hands. "MARCUS! I NEED YOU!"

"Yes D?" Marcus responds as he rushes into the living room, pulling a fresh pack of Kitkat out of his back pocket. "Did you need a snack?"

"Have you ever heard of 'Missing Someone' perfume?" he asks once more as he pulls up the Safari app on his publicist's phone.  

"You mean 'Missing Person' by Phlur?" Marcus quips, picking up the stray pieces of discarded clothing strewn randomly around the room. “One of my favorite actresses just became the spokesperson for that perfume, swears by it-“ 

“Missing PERSON, that’s what it was!” Dieter shouts, tossing his publicist's phone back at him. “Marcus, you’re a fucking godsend! I knew there was a reason why I kept you around! Could you do me a small favor?”

"What do you need, D?" Marcus asks eagerly, his hand perched on his hip. 

"I need you to buy me 'Missing People'. A couple of bottles, at least."

"How many is a couple?" Marcus asks with a nervous chuckle. "Five? Are you giving these out as gifts or something?"

"Maybe I could call Chriselle, and tell her you're interested in the company, there are more scents suitable for men, D," his publicist says casually, pulling out his laptop from his messenger bag. "I ran into her at Erewhon the other day, she's a big fan of your work, and couldn't stop talking about Cliff Beasts... Now, about that statement-"

"Fuck asking, just go to Neimans or Sephora or something and buy out their entire stock. Lotions and body wash and candles if it comes in that scent, too, Marcus. Go to all of the fucking Sephoras if you need to."

"... the entire stock? D, what is this for?"

"Do I pay you to ask all of these fucking questions? Don't worry about what I'm going to do with it. Just get it in my hands by the end of the day, do you think you could swing that?"

"... yes?"

Dieter takes another drag out of his joint, nodding aimlessly. "Great. Also, stop by Blicks on your way back. I need an entire arsenal and the biggest canvas they have. New brushes, too! Set up my studio and put the 'Missing People' in my bathroom, and I'll want my usual In n Out order, too."

Flustered, Marcus pulls out his phone and starts typing Dieter's requests on his notes app. Running a nervous hand through his hair, he looks at his boss once more. "Anything else?"

"Yeah. Get the fuck out of my face and get to work, Marcus. Chop Chop!"

His assistant nods and scrambles out of the living room, tripping on the corner of the area rug on his way out. Dieter's publicist raises his eyebrow at the display, shaking his head as he types away on his laptop. "You know, you could be nicer to him, D. He tries hard to cater to your every fucking whim and fancy... now, are we gonna release that fucking statement or not?"

"What statement?" Dieter asks absentmindedly as he pulls out a small baggie from his robe pocket.  

"The one where you say that you had a little too much to drink and that you didn't mean anything by groping Doll at the Movie Awards, and that you're really sorry and will be donating a couple thousand to a women's shelter-"

"... and this will make The Shark happy? and Feldman off my ass?" he replies, rubbing his gums as he smiles to himself. "I'll be able to stay on the project?"

"You can start packing your bags, yes. Filming starts in a week for the next few months in Europe. It'll give this whole Movie Awards nonsense some time to blow over."

Dieter considers this for a moment. He sticks his tongue out in contemplation, coming to the unsettling realization that he hasn't been in a major studio project in the last few years. He needs this job more than they need him, and deep down, he knows this. He takes one last drag out of his joint, flicking the roach away as he turns towards his publicist.

"Release the fucking statement."

His publicist nods, fingers flying across the keyboard. "Good," he murmurs, genuine relief softening his features. "I can't handle you out of work for another month, not after the fucking pandemic... What's the deal with all that perfume, anyway?"

"What?" Dieter replies absentmindedly, scratching his beard.

"The stuff you made Marcus buy in bulk," his publicist clarifies.

"Forget the perfume. Do you still have those photos I sent you?"

"I've got them, but I haven't checked them out yet. Why?"

Dieter gestures toward the laptop. "Why don't you take a look?"

His publicist eyes him warily, opening the email. His expression shifts to shock as he glimpses the contents. "Is this—"

Dieter nods, a smirk creeping onto his face. "Yep."

"This is huge, Dieter. How did you even get these? They're screwed if this ever goes public—"

"That's why it's payback time. A little warning shot," Dieter interrupts, leaning forward eagerly. "We leak the photos. Anonymously, of course."

"Dieter," his publicist warns, "If they trace it back to you—"

"I'll take the risk. They messed with the wrong guy," Dieter scoffs, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. "These amateurs think they can get away with it?" he mutters to himself, then clears his throat. "Remember our motto?"

"Nobody fucks with Dieter Bravo."

Dieter leans back on the sofa, nodding. "That's right. Nobody fucks with Dieter Bravo."

Six Months later.

"Hi, I'm Carol Cobb!"

"... and I'm Dieter Bravo!"

"And we are doing a Wired Autocomplete Interview!"

"Alright! Is Dieter Bravo..." Carol energetically rips the first sheet of paper off her card, a playful smile spreading across her face as Dieter looks attentively at the camera. "Is Dieter Bravo dead?!" She bursts into laughter, smacking Dieter with the card, who simply shrugs. "Wow! Why would they hit us with that right out of the gate?"

"Not dead yet!" Dieter exclaims, pushing his signature glasses off his face while gazing into the camera. "Got close... several times," he adds with a pointed smirk.

"...and we are very much thankful for that!" Carol shouts. "Shall we move on to the next one?" She tears the next slip of paper, her eyes widening as she reads, “Is Dieter Bravo secretly married?!”

“Well, it wouldn’t be a secret if I spilled the beans now, would it?” Dieter smiles conspiratorially, rubbing his chin in contemplation.

“I can't imagine you ever settling down,” Carol muses with a smirk. "It seems unnatural, like going against the natural order of things, like sea animals on land. Dieter Bravo, settled down with one girl? Hell would have to freeze over before that ever happens," she teases.

"I think it could happen," Dieter says matter-of-factly, crossing his arms over his chest as he settles back into his seat.

"What could happen?" Carol asks, her curiosity piqued.

"Settling down. Getting married, perhaps... even starting a family," Dieter replies thoughtfully.

"It would take quite the woman to make 'The Great Lothario' change his ways. Seems like an impossible feat," Carol interrupts, chuckling. "A woman who can stop the great Dieter Bravo from his manwhoring ways? Maybe someone who lives under a rock and doesn't know about your reputation."

"Actually," Dieter interjects, a hint of excitement in his voice. "I think I've met someone recently who's made quite an impression on me."

Carol's eyes widen in surprise. "What do you mean, you think you've met someone? Who is this mysterious girl that's captured your attention, D?"

"Well, she's an actress-"

"Of course," Carol quips with a knowing smirk.

"... she's new. I had the pleasure of meeting her at the MTV Movie-"

"You're not talking about Doll, are you? The woman you groped after meeting her for the first time? Someone even said that they caught you sniffing her! Who does that, Dieter?!"

"I am a connoisseur of all things exquisite and beautiful, ma chérie. She smelled absolutely divine, and I swear her scent lingered on me for days after, I swear, just let me nuzzle my face in between the valley of those luscious tits-"

"God, D. I think they're gonna have to edit this shit out!" Carol mutters, looking embarrassed by Dieter's boldness. She leans towards Dieter. "I thought you signed some embargo with The Shark promising you wouldn't mention her," she whispers in his ears. "Even I wouldn't think to fuck with him-"

"Well, Feldman was my main concern, and now he's facing jail time for all of those underage claims and those leaked photos, so fuck it!" Dieter counters, knowing damn well he worked behind the scenes for it to happen, leaking a few photos he had stored away on his iCloud, kissing himself on the mouth knowing it would come in handy sooner or later.  

AP NEWS ALERT: Hollywood bigshot arrested for leaked inappropriate images from an anonymous source of various actresses, denies all allegations of misconduct.

One asshole down, one Shark to bury next, he thinks to himself, chuckling at the thought. "Besides, I can't get her out of my fucking mind! I've never felt this way about a woman before, Carol, I mean it this time!"

"I mean, she's undeniably beautiful," Carol agrees, "but she's still new to the industry. They've been typecasting her in those romcoms with whatshisname, but I've heard she's pushing for more challenging roles—"

"Cut!" The director's voice slices through the air, his eyes narrowed at them both. "This interview is about promoting Cliff Beasts, not discussing Dieter's love life with some woman."

"Hey, that 'woman'? She's my future wife, so watch your damn mouth," Dieter snaps back, his tone defensive.

"Whoa, D, hold on. Future wife? You barely know her!" Carol interjects, her hand pressed against her chest in disbelief. "Take it easy, baby. Get to know her first, at least."

"It's gonna happen, Carol. I can feel it in my damn bones. I was drawn to her the moment I laid eyes on her," Dieter insists, his confidence unwavering.

"Listen, Casanova, I don't care who you think you're gonna marry, but we're on a tight schedule here!" the director interrupts, frustration evident in his voice. "Stick to the damn questions, and no more talk about your little 'girlfriend.'"

"Fine," Dieter mutters, rolling his eyes and taking a sip of water. "But do me a favor—don't cut out the part about her assets. It'll bring in views like crazy. I did you a favor there."

The director waves him off as he storms away. "Remind me why I took this job knowing this idiot would be here," he mutters to himself, heading back behind the camera.

The day of the (not so thought out) wedding.

Dieter is anxiously bouncing his leg, biting his pinky nail as his groomer meticulously applies another layer of concealer under his darkened eyes. "Jeez D, have you been sleeping at all lately?"

"What?" Dieter asks absentmindedly, running a shaky hand through his curls. "Yeah- I've been sleeping, why?"

“Your under-eyes, D. They’re darker than my fucking soul, man. Didn’t I tell you to lay off on the sauce? I’m on my fourth layer of concealer-“

“It’s nothing,” Dieter says dismissively. “Just… have you ever been in love?” 

"Sure I have," his groomer replies, a small smile on their face. "That's why I'm married, silly. Why?"

"Say you like a girl, and you think that this girl might be interested but then TMZ posts leaked photos of said girl and some beefed up Hollywood hunk "canoodling" with each other while filming their movie together in Canada-"

"This is Doll that we're talking about, correct? The one you groped at the MTV Movie-"

"I DIDN'T GROPE HER!" Dieter exclaims, groaning as he sinks further into his seat. "Why does everyone keep saying that? I was simply giving her a friendly, yet casual hug when she APPROACHED ME-"  He huffs like a petulant child, his arms crossed around his chest in defiance. "Anyway, I thought, after I desperately tried to shoot my shot, let my intentions known in that 'Wired' Interview with Carol, that she would contact me, you know? Maybe slide into my DMs-" 

“Slide into your DMs?” His groomer scoffs, plucking a stray eyebrow hair with their tweezers from his face as he dramatically flinches, narrowing his eyes at them. “You flat out said you wanted to smother your face in the ‘valley of her luscious tits’, I would be surprised if she hasn't filed a restraining order against you yet... Let me give you a bit of advice: Girls want to be romanced, not objectified! ... have you ever had a 'real' girlfriend before, D?"

"Hey! I've had girlfriends, alright?" Dieter groans, frustration evident in his voice as he clenches his fists. "Just because they didn't stick around afterward doesn't mean it was all my fault, okay?"

"The girls you hook up with during your benders and then discard once the high wears off don't exactly qualify as 'real' girlfriends, D! Let's be serious here!"

"That's what I'm trying to be," he whines, "I'm trying SO HARD to be serious for once! I can't get this girl out of my head, and it's been what? Almost a year since I've met her? I can't get my dick hard when I'm with anyone else anymore, I don't want to take drugs, it's like I'm fucking broken or something! ... and now she's off fucking Joe Hollywood over here like I'm not bleeding my fucking heart out for her-"

"Wait, you mean to tell me that you're actually sober right now?"

"Well, yeah. The last time I took something was before filming Cliff Beasts, I thought you knew that. Anyway, it doesn't fucking matter. All of that and she doesn't even notice me."

"Well, I would tell you that if you had bothered to read TMZ this morning instead of sulking, you would know that there are split rumors between this girl and Hollywood neanderthal," His groomer retorts, a shit-eating grin on their face. "It was over before it even began. I mean, I've heard for such a massive man, he has quite the tiny di-"

Dieter perks up at that. "Say that again."

"They've broken up. She's back on the market, silly goose."

"So that means-"

"That means that I'm going to groom the shit out of you and help you out by making her realize just what she's missing out on, D." His groomer replies, massaging his scalp as they make eye contact through the mirror in front of them. "You're lucky that I consider myself a hopeless romantic. If you promise not to break her heart, I'll help you get the girl, ok?"

"Shit, do you think she'll like me?" Dieter says nervously, fidgeting in his seat.  

"Obviously," his groomer replies cryptically, a smirk forming on the corner of their mouth. "I may or may not have some intel from another groomer friend of mine about their supposed breakup."

"Oh?" Dieter perks up, his eyebrow raised in curiosity. "... and what would that intel be?"

"Oh, you know. Someone might have asked their stylist if they think you'll be attending tonight, how she kept trying to be sly about it."

"Doll asked about me?! Are you serious?" Dieter's excitement is palpable.

"Well, according to my friend, the reason why they broke up was that someone might have moaned your name while being eaten out by 'Joe Hollywood' the other day-"

"No fucking way!"

"She's into you, D! I would say that your little ploy during the 'Wired' interview worked more than you think, bud."

Dieter nods, taking the biggest sigh of relief as he settles in his chair. "One last thing, do you groom just the top half of me, or are you open to grooming other places?"

"What do you mean?" his groomer cocks their head to the side.  

"Shit, well... are you open to grooming my nether regions? It's been a while since I've been with a woman, I'm almost full caveman down there-"

His groomer tsks, pulling out their phone. "Dieter, as much as I love you, I don't love you that much. Let me call someone for that, ok?"

A few hours later, on the red carpet.

"Dieter," his publicist says under his breath as they walk down the red carpet. "The cameras are this way, why are you so distracted?"

"I'm looking for someone," Dieter replies as he winks at the sea of paparazzi, flashing them a peace sign as he walks toward the venue's entrance.

"Well, who are you looking for?" His publicist replies impatiently, looking down the red carpet.

"Doll, obviously. Do you know if she's arrived yet?"

His publicist rolls his eyes, sighing. "She arrived about five minutes ago, don't you see her?"

Dieter inhales deeply, his gaze scanning past the vibrant red carpet until it locks onto yours. His breath catches in his chest, surprised by the unexpected connection. You appear taken aback at first, but swiftly compose yourself, subtly angling your body towards him with a seductive smile playing on your lips.

"Holy Shit..." Dieter's mind races with excitement. "She really does want me."

Filled with newfound confidence, he playfully purses his lips in your direction, sending a cheeky kiss your way as his eyebrows wiggle in amusement. A flush of color blooms across your cheeks in response, catching his eye. But as he revels in the moment, he notices The Shark's gaze narrowing in his direction, a whisper passing between him and you.

That's fucking right Shark.  I'm coming for my girl, and there is nothing you can fucking do about it.  

Later, Dieter observes you from across the room as you sit at your table, alone, nursing another glass of champagne. He notices how you try to avoid meeting his gaze, despite catching you stealing glances at him throughout the night when you think he isn't looking. It surprises him to see you being so reserved, so quiet, especially without The Shark hovering around you like a protective dragon guarding its treasure.

What's gotten you so down, babydoll?  he muses, leaning back into his chair. As if you could read his thoughts, your eyes meet from across the room once more, and you quickly look away, smiling to yourself at getting caught looking.

Dieter senses the moment's significance, his heart racing with anticipation. He knows he must seize this opportunity, the perfect moment to step forward and break the barrier between the two of you. With a determined smile, he decides it's time to make his move.

As he rises from his chair, Dieter's confidence swells, fueled by the intensity of the moment. With purposeful strides, he crosses the room, his gaze fixed on you, the anticipation building with each step. This is his chance to bridge the gap, to finally reveal the feelings he's kept hidden for so long.

He draws in another deep breath as he approaches you from behind, mustering his most seductive gaze as he leans in towards your exposed ear, his warm breath grazing your skin.

"I can't help but notice that you've been eye-fucking me the entire night."

He groans softly as he takes a seat in the chair beside yours, hoping to conceal any nerves as he attempts to exude charm. "I guess my little ploy of trying to get your attention with that 'Wired' interview worked out in my favor-"

You respond with a subtle smile, your fingers gracefully tracing the edge of your champagne glass. How does something as simple as that manage to rile me up? he wonders inwardly, returning your smile.

"You know," you say softly, a chuckle escaping you as you shake your head in disbelief, "There are more normal ways to get a girl's attention-"

The longer Dieter spends in your presence, the more he feels himself on edge, the tension mounting with every passing moment. His pulse quickens, and he can't ignore the growing semi in his suit pants. It's astonishing how much you affect him, like a siren calling out for him while lost at sea, lying in wait, ready to bring him to absolute ruin. 

Fuck. Keep it cool, Bravo.

"Ah, but you're America's Sweetheart, and your pitbull of a publicist won't let me near you, I had to let my-" he gulps at the sight of your ample bust, licking his lips in anticipation, "... intentions very clearly known."

"Well," you breathe, chest heaving. "I don't know if it's 'clearly' known," your voice drops to a whisper, like a secret that is shared only between the both of you, two lonely souls amongst a sea of chaos. "I think you're just going to have to spell it out for me."

Dieter, sensing victory, leans back triumphantly, spreading his legs as he subtly encloses you within his space. His dark, smoldering gaze meets your thinly veiled attempt at your best innocent doe eyes... but Dieter sees right through it. He grins widely, reveling in the knowledge that he's the cat about to get all of the cream—your cream.  That's right, babydoll, I've finally caught you, and I'm never going to let you go.

He laughs at the sight of you, his chin motioning to your breasts.  "Do you want to have sex with me, Dollface?"

Your eyes widen, and a small gasp escapes your lips, as you search his gaze, trying to decipher if he's just bullshitting or if he's actually fucking serious.  I'm serious, alright, he chuckles to himself. "If I miscalculated this fucking thing that's going on between us, tell me and I'll fuck off, leave you alone-"

"What if I don't want you to fuck off, and want to tell you that I'm this close to being plastered and that all I kept thinking about tonight is you railing me with that huge cock we both know is aching for me in some deserted hallway-" you challenge, picking your champagne glass for good measure, downing its contents in one swig.  For courage, he thinks. "I would beg to ask you... what's taking you so damn long, Bravo?"

WhatsApp chat between Dieter & Marcus: Dieter: Hey Marcus, are you still in the venue? Marcus: Yes! With your publicist. Did you need something? Dieter: This party blows. Can I borrow your car? Marcus: Oh, did you want me to drive you home? The party just started, Dieter. Dieter: I can drive myself back, stay for the party! Catch a ride with the suits afterward! Get shitfaced, you're officially off the clock! Marcus: Seriously? Do you know how to drive a stick? It's my baby, I don't know if I feel comfortable with you driving it, are you high right now? 🤦‍♂️ Dieter: No, for the last time, I'm fucking clean, man. Just do me a solid and let me borrow your car, I swear I'll give you a fucking raise! What do you want for one night with your baby? Tell me, I'll give you anything! Marcus: Fine. Just tell me what you did with all of that fucking perfume, there"s a bet going on and I would like to shove it in your publicist's face that I know! Dieter: Seriously man? That's all you want? Marcus: Do you want my keys or not, D? Dieter: Fine. I took the fucking perfume, doused my entire bedroom in it, and fucked myself smelling it thinking about Doll. Dieter: Is that enough of an explanation for you? Come the fuck on, man, I need your car! Please! 🙏 Marcus: 🙌 Meet me at the lobby in five. 

"So tell me," Dieter shouts as he peels out of the parking lot, laughing at the delighted squeal that escapes your lips as you throw your head back, your arms raised upward as he turns quickly into the streets of Los Angeles. "How often did you think about me, babydoll?"

You boldly reach over to cup his erection, your small hand wrapping around the tip of it. "As much as I reckon you thought of me, Bravo. Tell me, how often did you come, alone in that massive bed of yours, to the thought of your cock thrusting into my tight pussy?"

"Fuck baby, do you want me to crash this car? It's not mine, you know?"

"Answer the fucking question, Bravo."

"Baby, if you only knew how much I fucking came just thinking about your tits... I don't think you know just what exactly you got yourself into, little girl... but I'll show you just how I thought of you coming on my fat cock, giving me absolutely everything-"

I've been hungry for you, baby, and I'm going to feast on every inch of your body, just you fucking wait-

He cackles like a madman as he peels into the dwindling streets of LA. "Are you hungry, Dollface?" he yells, almost running a red light, his eyes fixed on the glowing In n Out sign in the distance.

"I shouldn't, I have that screen test next week-"

"Fuck the screen test!" he shouts. "The night is young, and you are gorgeous. Let Dieter take care of you, baby... while I still have you in my grasp. I ain't gonna waste a moment I have you in my orbit!"

He pulls into the In n Out parking lot, cutting the engine, and pulls you into his lap, his face immediately diving into the valley between your breasts. "You can suffocate me with these tits and I would die a happy man," he mumbles against your skin, his growl reverberating throughout your entire body like wildfire. "What do you say, Doll? Would you do me the honors?"

"Fuck Dieter," you moan, tipping your head back in pleasure as his tongue teases the edge of your dress covering your breasts. "Grab my tits," you beg, grabbing his hands for good measure. Dieter wastes no time as he grabs the back of your head, pulling you into a kiss, his tongue licking along the seam of your mouth, begging for entrance.  

"Open up for me, baby girl. Let Dieter taste you-" he pleads, and you pull away with him, your hair wrecked and lipstick smeared. Dieter imagines he looks as wrecked as you do, his pupils blown and chest heaving. You pull him into another kiss, sighing into it, your mouth opening slightly. Dieter takes this as a sign to devour you completely, your tongues fighting for dominance as you begin to rock your hot pussy against his thick cock.

"I want to ride you into the sunset, D," you whisper, pulling at his curls harshly. "Are you gonna give me what I want? Or am I going to have to find someone else to do it?"

"Fuck-" Dieter pants, his gaze reaching yours, his mouth agape in awe. "How in the fuck did I get so fucking lucky-"

"Grab my tits, D," you ask once more, moaning and throwing your head back, biting your lower lip as you grind on his throbbing erection. Dieter quickly obliges, his large hands engulfing both of your breasts. His fingertips graze the edge of your dress, the hardness of your nipple pressing into the middle of his palm, and he swears that if he were to be struck down dead right at this moment, he would die a happy man.  

"Shit, I knew that your tits would feel amazing, but you are so fucking soft-"

"Oh yeah?" you tease, your teeth grazing the shell of his ear. "I'm soft in other places, too." You whisper in his ear, and he swears he feels the ghost of your smile as he moves his hands back on your hips, his fingertips squeezing the softness of your ass as he angles his dick where he imagines your clit to be, thrusting into your hot, wet heat. "Fuck, so goddamn soft-" he groans, his tongue licking a wet stripe along the tops of your breasts. "You're fucking everything I never knew I always wanted, baby girl," he praises you honestly, cupping your cheek as he pulls you into another kiss, groaning as your tongue dances with his, leaving him breathless.  

"Am I?" you pant as you wrap your arms around his neck, your pussy dragging along the thick outline of his cock. "You talk like you want to marry me or something-"

"... oh, but I do want to marry you, breed you, keep you locked up in my mansion... you have no idea just how much I've thought about you, these last few months-"

"Dieter! My Man!" someone shouts in the distance. "What the fuck are you doing here?!"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he yells back, "I'm about to fuck this beautiful woman in an In n Out parking lot, what are you doing here?"

"Fuck, can I take a pic, man?" the fan shouts as he approaches the convertible.  

"Don't you see we're a little preoccupied?" you shout at the fan, flicking him off. "Get the fuck out of here!" you shout.

The fan quickly takes a shot of the both of you with his iPhone, a half-hearted apology mumbled out of his mouth as he quickly runs back inside of the restaurant, probably to the group of men who are completely unaware of the two celebrities dry-humping the fuck out of each other in their wake, eating their double-doubles and sneaking sips out of a cup filled with some cheap ass vodka, fist-bumping the night away.

"Are you gonna come in those Gucci pants of yours, D?" you tease, your pace quickening as you ride his dick relentlessly. "How does it feel having America's Sweetheart getting you to come in your pants, baby?"

"Fuck," Dieter pants, his hand wrapping around your neck as he pushes you against the steering wheel, angling the tip of his cock against your clit. "How does it feel to get fucked by The Devil, sweetheart? Your pussy is begging me to just rip those fucking panties off and just claim you, right in front of all of these fucking people-"

You shiver at that, a choked curse and his name out of your mouth as he sees the entirety of your body begin to quiver and shake.  

"Don't fight it, baby, I know you fucking like the attention, I know you want everyone to see how much of a bad fucking girl you are inside... but don't worry, Dieter knows, and I'll help you show them," he pulls you against him harshly, your chest pushed up against his, as his teeth sink at the hollow of your neck. "I'll get the world to see just who you really are, baby. Let me show you the way-"

You scream as he thrusts into you once more as he rips your orgasm out of you violently, crying out into his neck as Dieter explodes into his Gucci trousers, the mixture of your slick and his thick cum making an absolute mess of his loaned suit.  

I guess I'll have to pay for these, Dieter thinks to himself as he cradles your shaking form into his arms, licking away the salty tears running down your face. "You did so good, Doll, don't cry-" he whispers, stroking the back of your head as he tries to get you to calm down. "What do you need, baby?"

You lie quietly against his chest, your breaths falling into rhythm with his, as he assumes you're simply gathering your thoughts. "Baby," he pleads softly, his hands tracing soothing paths along your exposed back. "Please, say something—"

"Marry me," you whisper against his chest, the words barely audible but filled with undeniable certainty.

Dieter freezes, his heart skipping a beat at your unexpected words. For a moment, he's speechless, his mind racing to catch up with the sudden turn of events. Slowly, he lifts his head to meet your gaze, eyes wide with shock and disbelief.

"What did you say?" he breathes, his voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid that speaking any louder might shatter the fragile moment.

You lift your head, meeting Dieter's stunned gaze with unwavering determination. "I said, marry me," you repeat, your voice steady despite the racing of your heart. "Let's take this car and drive it to Vegas, get married by some overweight Elvis impersonator, and book the honeymoon suite at the Cosmo... I don't care how we do it, but let's get fucking married, D!"

Dieter's mind whirls with a mix of emotions—astonishment, disbelief, and a profound sense of joy. He blinks several times, as if trying to confirm that he's not dreaming, before a wide grin spreads across his face.

"Oh, my God," he breathes, his voice trembling with emotion. "Yes. Yes, a thousand times yes."

Taglist:@yxtkiwiyxt @skysmiller @picketniffler @readingiskeepingmegoing @islacharlotte @drewharrisonwriter

@missladym1981@amyispxnk@thespookywookies@stevie75@mysterious-moonstruck-musings

@daydream-believer19@survivingandenduring@darkheartgatita @gobaaby-blog-blog

[starry-eyes-love]

Hollywood Story

Masterlist

Pairing | Dieter Bravo X Curvy F!Reader (nicknamed ‘pretty little girlfriend’)

Summary | You wake up to find the Hollywood News article plastered all over the internet of Dieter kissing his co-star, Amy, while on set for the filming of his recent movie. At first, you find the article funny until you start reading the comments and see another article calling you a fat cow. Dieter puts these false rumors to rest once and for all with a funny live Instagram talk.

Note: For the text messages: bold with italic text is from Dieter, just italic text is from you, and bold and red colored text is from his agent, Kat.

A/N:  We all saw the photo that is making a lot of us feral with that kiss.  I wanted to have a funny little story that went with this.  For some reason, this screams Dieter at me in my mind.  

A huge thanks to my good friend from CAImages on Instagram for pulling this photo together at the last minute for me.  Enjoy :) 

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Warnings | 18+, language

References to body image issues for F!reader (no descriptions except that she is curvy), reference to a cast made of Dieter’s crotch, mentions of previous phone sex (but no details given besides that), Dieter being Dieter.

Word Count: 3.4K

You guys are too nice saying I’m sexy.  Who knew that the belly was sexy, huh? But you know what, you all want to fuck me and the belly, but yet none of you can say one nice fucking thing to my pretty little girlfriend.  I’ve spent all morning reading everyone’s comments online, saying how she isn’t attractive because she has curves. Fuck. You know I love those curves; they feel so good. I love making love to the woman who has those sexy curves.  So, if I’m sexy with this belly, then she can be sexy with her curves too, you know.”

When you pulled up the app to read your morning digital copy of the newspaper, the image popped up on your home screen.  The headline read, “Dieter ends long-term relationship with girlfriend for another woman.”  You usually never cared about those articles, especially when your longtime boyfriend of 5 years was working on a movie set.  You knew that Dieter was in the process of filming a romantic love comedy, and you knew there were kissing scenes.  But this headline piqued your interest, so you clicked on it to read further.

“Sources say that these two co-stars had connected during the filming of the latest romantic movie, titled “I Want You, which stars Dieter, as a lawyer who just moved to New York City and found love with the daughter of the man he is trying to put in jail. People have spotted these two co-stars snuggling up together and having private moments late into the night after filming has wrapped. Recently, reporters caught a private moment of these two as Dieter’s co-star walked him to his car after a long day of filming. Before leaving, reporters captured a long and tender kiss that co-star Amy had given Dieter before he left.  Hollywood wonders if this is it for Dieter and his long-time girlfriend. Sources closest to Dieter say that his current relationship with his girlfriend is over with and that he is moving on, citing the reason for the split was infidelity accusations, among other things.” 

You had to laugh at the tabloid article, considering that last night, you had some of the best phone sex with your boyfriend.  You were moaning his name as you fucked yourself with a dildo that he bought you before he left to go and film this movie.  It was a cast of his hardened cock, a present for his pretty little girlfriend who missed her man dearly on these long movie shooting times when he was away from home.

Pulling up your phone's message app, you sent your boyfriend a copy of the article and some accompanying sass.

Dieter had been lying in bed, dozing on and off this morning.  He had a late call back last night and had to shoot some nighttime scenes.  So after his long day and some nice phone sex with his pretty little girlfriend, he had to go back to work and shoot for another 3 hours.  Yesterday was a 15-hour workday, and he was exhausted.  The studio gave him a day off, saying he could rest up as the following scenes didn’t involve him. 

When Dieter heard the ding of his message app, and then another one, he figured he needed to check to make sure it wasn’t the studio telling him that they had changed their mind and that he’d still have to come in today.  When he pulled up his messages, he saw two were from you.  He stretched and sat up in bed, grabbing his glasses off the nightstand and placing them on his face so he could read what you sent.

So apparently, according to the tabloids, you are cheating on me, and our relationship is over.  By the way, it was a lovely kiss. I'm somewhat jealous that those lips on you weren’t mine.

“What the?” Dieter mumbled to himself at your message.  He clicked the link to the article and saw the picture of the kiss, of a moment playing out during a scene.  It wasn’t unheard of for paparazzi to snap photos of scenes filmed outside, especially along the roadway like yesterday. He glanced down the page and saw the quick article about the photo. As he read through the article, he cursed under his breath at the fact that the tabloids would print something so false.  He quickly typed out a reply to you and then got up and headed to the bathroom to take a piss. He needed to call his new publicist and give him a piece of his mind. He was paying good money to ensure articles like this would not appear in Hollywood, and if they did, he’d know about it ahead of time. So why did this get through without his knowledge? It blew his mind and angered him immensely.

You were slowly sipping your morning coffee, waiting to see what your boyfriend had to say. When you heard the ding of your message app, followed by a few more, you knew he had thoroughly read it.

Jesus

How do people even come up with this shit?

I need to fire my publicist.

No, you don’t need to fire your new publicist.

Are the allegations true?

What?  NO! 

Absolutely not, baby!

I'm just checking because, you know, apparently, infidelity accusations have happened, and I’m not giving you everything you need or something.

Another article cites that I have more curves, and that’s why you did it because I’m not skinny.

Stop! 

That’s not true, and you fucking know it.

I love your curves, baby, and I love you.

It’s just assholes thinking that they know what’s going on but don’t.

Yeah, well, I guess.

You guess? What the fuck do you mean, you guess?

Baby, that was a scene from the movie I’m shooting, a scene.

Not. The. Real. Thing

Ok, if you say so.

What, what the hell- look, I’m not even relaxed like when I kiss you.

Plus, my tongue ain’t even down her fucking throat like it is with you, baby.

I know; it’s just a lot right now. And everyone keeps asking me if the rumors are true. 

Fuck. The longer that Dieter looked online, the more he saw that it was a fucking nightmare.  People accused him of kissing his co-star, Amy, on his off times. One article even claimed that someone saw him fucking her in the ally, which was not even true.  He had to make them stop, not because they were true.  None of them were.  It was just a photo from a movie shoot that he was doing and nothing else.  His co-star was not his type; she was not someone he found attractive in the way he found you attractive.  Sure, Amy was pretty, and she had a beautiful personality, but she was not someone he’d want to be balls deep in, fucking her against the wall like he loved to do with you.  

He was glancing at all the articles, and then he came across one in particular, one that referred to you as a “fat cow,” and that was when he had enough.  He immediately dialed his publicist and gave that son of a bitch a piece of his mind.

Five minutes later, Dieter swore at his publicist, telling him this should never have happened.

“Sam, I don’t give a fuck. I am paying you to stop this shit from happening. Really? Did you stop it? I don’t think you did because I’m looking at an article right now that is referring to my girlfriend as a fat cow.  You better hope she doesn’t read this. Yeah, or you’re fired.”

But as soon as he said it, he heard the ding of a message. His heart sank when he glanced at it, tuning out his publicist's apologizing momentarily and assuring him that everything was fine.  

I can’t come down next week for that event thing anymore. Some stuff, uh, some stuff came up.

Dieter quickly texted you back, hoping that the reason the plans had changed had nothing to do with what you had seen online. 

OK, that’s fine if you don’t want to. Can I ask why there was a sudden change of heart?

I just don’t think me being in a bikini, helping kids, is the best message you want to send people.

Fuck. You must have seen the article.

Baby, why wouldn’t it be the best image?

Come on, honey, talk to me. What’s bothering you?

Nothing is bothering me; it’s just I’m overweight, and I don’t think walking around with a one-piece swimsuit and asking people to help make donations for homeless children is proper.

Baby, how is it not proper? You love that kind of stuff.

It just isn’t okay.  Plus, no one wants to see a fat cow walk around in a bathing suit.  I mean, how can people even print that?  I know I’m a little overweight, but I’m not that much overweight, I think.

Fuck, you did read that article, and it broke his heart to know this.

Look, I just don’t want to do it, ok.

Plus, you could do so much better than me, anyway.

I mean, look at her; she’s beautiful and sexy. What am I?

I’m not attractive, that’s what.  Why did you even ask me out in the first place?

I know cause I was skinny.

Okay, maybe I'm not skinny, but I wasn’t fat.

Okay, yeah, I was fat, but.

One text after another kept coming in as you derailed your self-esteem because of two dumb photos of him kissing his co-star during the middle of a scene for shooting a movie.  

Sam was still talking on the phone, but Dieter was no longer paying attention. He was more concerned about what his pretty little girlfriend was thinking. Dieter was with you because you made him laugh, and you were the love of his life. He had to make this right for you.

“Sam, I’m going to stop you right there. I’ll make this simple for you. You’re fucking fired.”  Dieter then hung up the phone and immediately texted his agent, a woman that scared the living shit out of him because she never took any shit from anyone in the world. Dieter doesn’t remember what her real name is; he’s always called her Kat because she’d claw his eyes out more than once if she had the chance with all of the shit he used to pull before meeting you.

Kat, I fired Sam, he’s a fucking idiot anyways. Please tell me you can stop this fucking shitstorm online. 

For once, remember that I DID NOTHING to start this one.

Kat had gotten back to him almost immediately, helping in the best way that Kat knew how to, taking control of the situation.

Well, Dieter, that didn’t take you long, did it? Just for the record, I fired him this morning before you called him. You were right; he was an idiot. 

I’m already taking care of the shitstorm in the media; the director is fucking furious at the accusations that came forward and is setting the record straight.  I’ll also have the production company make an official statement.

What about the article that called her a fat cow, what about that?

Seriously? Did they- oh, for fucks sake, I’ll take care of it.  I know the editor. I’ll just call him up and threaten to beat the shit out of him for publishing something like that.

Really? You’re going to beat the shit out of someone that isn’t me? Wow, talk about going soft.

Oh, don’t start, Dieter. I can still kick your ass, too.  And I may do it yet today.

But don’t worry, I’ll take care of it, but you’ll have to do damage control on the backside.   

Me? How the hell am I supposed to do that?

It’s called doing damage control with your girlfriend, Dieter. 

I’m sorry for her. No woman or person deserves that horrible humiliation. Take care of her; she’s going to need some reassurance.

Dieter looked at Kat’s last message and couldn’t agree more.  But he didn’t know what he could do to help calm your nerves. As he sat there thinking, he devised an idea that he thought would work. It should take some heat off you and even the playing field.

Dieter pulled his phone out, clicked on the Instagram app, then hit the live button.

You had been drowning in your mind at all the negative comments about your weight, about how people couldn’t believe someone like Dieter would ever be with you, etc. You had spent all morning immersing yourself in these articles and comments, working yourself up into a horrible frenzy of anxiousness and despair.  

You were curled up on the couch, attempting to watch your favorite TV program, missing Dieter, when you heard the ding at the live notification of your Instagram.  The only person you followed like that was Dieter, so you were surprised that he was going live, especially on a day like today.  You quickly pulled out your phone and hit the notification so you could watch and see what was happening.  Dieter already had over 5,000 people watching. So you knew you could hide and not say anything just to see what was happening.

“Hi, it’s me, Dieter…right. Listen. I’m sorry, I’m trying not to care, but it’s hard. It’s hard to see negative comments about the person I love, people calling her unattractive because she doesn’t have a flat stomach like my co-star does.  But you know what, I don’t have a flat stomach either.”

Dieter then stood up, removed his T-shirt and sweatpants, and sat in his boxers, his belly slightly hanging over them.

“So, do you guys want to have sex with me like this?”

After Dieter watched the notifications in the chat coming in of Yes in one way or another, he knew he had the audience right where he wanted them.

“Yeah, I know. Thanks, and wow. You guys are too nice saying I’m sexy.  Who knew that the belly was sexy, huh? But you know what, you all want to fuck me and the belly, but yet none of you can say one nice fucking thing to my pretty little girlfriend.  I’ve spent all morning reading everyone’s comments online, saying how she isn’t attractive because she has curves. Fuck. You know I love those curves; they feel so good. I love making love to the woman who has those sexy curves.  So, if I’m sexy with this belly, then she can be sexy with her curves too, you know.”

“I eat a KitKat every day, either from my mini bar or home. And then, in the morning, there’s always a new KitKat cause my girl knows I love them. And you know what, you don’t know me.  Nobody knows me, the real me, and that’s okay. But my girl, she does; she knows me for the real me, not the Hollywood me.  Like, after we have sex, I always ask her, ‘How do I know in the morning you’re not gonna sell the stuff I unloaded in you to the sperm bank?’ I think about stuff like that when I’m with her, and I tell her.”

“We also have conversations like what happens if your shit, like your literal shit, was alive. That scares me sometimes late at night, and I talk with my girlfriend about it. I go, ‘So, you know when I shit, I don’t watch myself shit. You should never watch yourself shit.  You should just wipe, flush, and then move on.’ We have conversations like that. And then when I have diarrhea and vomiting from food poisoning, I yell for her to hold my hair back because I don’t want the chance of getting vomit in my hair, even if it’s short.”

As you sat back, you watched your boyfriend talk crazy, like you do sometimes late at night. You knew that Dieter never said these things out loud except with you. You didn’t judge him, but the world isn’t always easy on everyone.

“Why do I say these crazy things? Well, if you’re going to judge the most beautiful woman in the world, and she IS the most beautiful woman to me, then you’ll see who I am without the mask of fame. She sees me for the real me and loves me for it. So, if you still love me and all of this crazy shit I do in life, then love her too, cause if you don’t, I won’t be making movies any longer.  I never want to read statements of me cheating on a woman that I’ve had to pinch myself every day in the balls to make sure that I’m not dreaming.  She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and if you guys can’t realize that, then I’m done making movies.  So yeah, goodbye, I guess, until you all fix this issue and stop shaming women or men who don’t fit a perfect image. And stop writing false stories, or this will be the last story you all write of me because I sure as hell won't keep fucking going if all I read are lies about me anymore. I love you all, but seriously, goodbye until you straighten out.”

You then heard him fart on camera and then ended the live right after that. You sat there with tears at how he publicly defended you, even though you never asked him to.  You quickly called him up to thank him.

“You know you didn’t have to say anything, D.”

“I know, but I did. I also thought that I saw you online watching.”  Dieter’s voice echoed like he was in a cave or a large room.

“Where are you? Your voice is echoing.”

“Bathroom,” was all he said, and then you heard it, a fart that echoed.

“Dieter, what-”

“Look, I haven’t taken my morning shit yet, babe.  I’ve had to deal with all this bullshit first, and I can’t hold it anymore, so yeah.”

“It's okay, D, you know I love you. Look, I'll let you go and-”

“No, babe, talk to me. I have nothing else I'm doing while sitting here. You feel a little better?”

“Yeah, a little bit. I mean, you didn't have to say those things about quitting and potentially fuck up your career.”

“Baby, I didn't fuck up my career. And even if I did, I don't care. I love you, and your happiness is just as important to me, if not more, than my career. I care about you, and I’m pissed off that people would say those horrible things about you, the most beautiful woman in my life. My pretty little girlfriend, I love you.”

The two of you talked for an hour until the production company called. They told Dieter that they were postponing shooting more scenes for a few more days until they could figure out the logistics of keeping privacy for more intimate shoots in the future. 

That was fine because it allowed Dieter to fly home to you for a few days. All was peaceful until Dieter got a message from the production company a few days later stating that scenes would begin shooting again next week. As Dieter was packing back up to leave, he received a message from his agent, Kat.

Dieter, you jackass, that’s not what I meant by damage control. You know what, fine, do it your way.  But don’t cry when the little stunt you pulled online results in you getting fired or not being offered any more movie roles.  

Dieter knew that Kat was blowing steam because he had received three tentative movie offers for comedic roles since his online speech.  When he asked Kat what she thought, she was honest with him.

Dieter, you know you can just go fuck yourself, right?

And for what it’s worth, I’m happy you made your girlfriend feel better. You really are a great guy.

To HER, that is.  Now start making my job a little easier, not harder, or so help me, God, I’ll rip your head clean off.  And I'm not talking about the one on the top of your neck. Lord knows you don't need that head anymore cause you don’t ever think with it. I'm talking about the other one.

Dieter laughed hard and knew Kat’s threats were just that, threats.  She has saved his ass more times than he cared to admit.  Yes, this stunt he pulled could have been a huge problem, but he didn’t care.  He’s weathered those harsh storms of his career in the past.  That’s why he paid Kat the big bucks, to help him get out of those shit storms.  But this stunt was for you, to get the negative attention off you. And to make you laugh more, which is what he did in the end.  The only thing that mattered to Dieter was that his pretty little girlfriend was safe, warm, and happy.  Everything in Hollywood was always so fake, except for you and the love that Dieter had for you, that wasn't fake. Dieter loved you more than anything: real, soulmate-type, passionate love. And to him, that was the only story ever worth writing about. 

[nerdieforpedro]

Notes with Dieter

Dieter Bravo/husband x female reader/wife

My blog overall is 18+ MDNI

Word Count: about 1.1k

Summary: You're leaving for another work trip and Dieter is sad once again. This time, he decides to show you how much he cares in full Bravo style.

Warnings: Dieter is the softest boi 😭, side-eyeing a suitcase, illusions to smut?, kisses, doodles, just all the fluff, bad jokes

Notes: So this is a follow up to The Day before was always difficult. @angelofsmalldeath-codeine and @mysterious-moonstruck-musings are always asking more for more soft Dieter. So naturally, I took it as a request even though they didn't really ask? FYI Dieter is a koala 🐨 in this one, but he'll always be our lovable messy trash panda. 🦝 I think I used all the colors Hemmy. 😆

Main Masterlist / Dieter Bravo Masterlist

Dieter used to love suitcases. It meant he was on the move to a new job or some new fun, sometimes both. Now he was more ambivalent about them. Coming home and seeing the hard shell gray suitcase meant that tomorrow morning you’d be gone again for a time.

It’s not like he didn’t know it in advance, you’d always let him know ahead of time. Especially if he was going to be at home alone. It didn’t make it hurt any less. Some might say that he should get over it, just relax and wait for your return, but Dieter isn’t that type of man. The tea kettle screeches with steam and he knows where you are: the kitchen. Instead of alerting you to his presence, he waits until you’ve poured your tea and is covering it to let it steep.

His chest gently presses against your back before his arms ensnare you just under your breasts, propping them up as you’ve showered and in your black cotton nightgown. You’ve decided on an early evening for yourself but Bravo has other plans as his lips to the nape of your neck tell you. A chuckle leaves your chest while you fix the rest of your tea, not intent on giving him a quarter into the game he’s trying to play.

But the two of you sit on the couch. Chatting about current events, he hasn’t made any more moves. Just watching you, listening to you, with an enamored grin. Another chuckle from you for how cute he looks, he’ll do this from time to time when you’re going to leave town again. Like he’s trying to paint a picture of you in his mind. You always remind him that he’s your reason to come home. Dieter always tells you he’s grateful for that.

After tea, it’s bedtime and there are kisses goodnight. He wraps his arm around your waist. You kiss his neck and begin the nightly activities. Apparently Dieter’s learned to just give you a nibble and you’ll do the rest. In the glow of the short hours of the dark, you pinch his cheek, figuring out his game before dozing off on his chest. Sticking to him, not wanting to let go.

Dieter steals out of the bed when you’re asleep and uses a notebook he keeps in his nightstand. He sketches your various expressions you made while on the couch and then how you look in bed right now, sheets half-covering you, your glory exposed for him to see. He has to capture it now else he could miss his moment.

Another idea pops into his head so he grabs his phone and steps out into the living room to record it for you. He plans to send it tomorrow morning while you’re at the airport so you can listen to it on the plane.

A handwritten note slid into your suitcase is for when you unpack. Carefully he slides back into bed, his thumb running down your back with a kiss to your shoulder.

The sun has barely broken the horizon when the alarm sounds, groans fill the room as you both stir. Washing up and getting dressed is your focus so Dieter makes a light breakfast for you with coffee. His eyes cut to your suitcase before he picks it up to carry it to the car his ordered for you, thankfully he was able to zip it back properly.

A text from Dieter says to listen to the message on the plane and to download it just in case. Your headphones are in after greeting your coworkers and the plane is at cruising altitude.

“Hey pretty lady, you know I never want you to leave. I know it’s selfish but I know I always feel better and do better when you’re here. You’re my person you know? Plus who else is going to tell me that many patterns don’t go together, everyone always tells me yes.

Anyway, have a safe flight and kick those old dudes asses. I hope your project goes well. I know you were trying to explain it to be but once you got into Access and databases I was gone. I’m so sorry. I’m gonna try googling it later. You can’t wear that navy blue dress because they’ll think they have a chance and you’re already with an Oscar Winner. They’re too late and I love you Ms. Smarty Pants. Hmm… You should wear pants. Bye.”

The two people sitting next to you thought that you needed some oxygen based on how hard you were wheezing trying to hold in your laughter. You told them that you were fine and it was just a message from your sweet husband, he has quite a way with words.

Thankfully when you landed, everyone was given time to rest in their rooms before the initial group dinner. Opening your suitcase, a piece of notebook paper fell out and you picked it up off the floor. Sitting on the bed you read it, shaking your head.

Sometimes I really do wonder why you’re with me at all, why you come home to me. Hell, why you call me home. I can be a complete and utter mess, irresponsible at times and I’m sure annoying. My one redeeming quality I thought was in creating art through film, painting and drawings. You helped me see that I’m more than that though. So much more. I can be faithful, I can be loyal, I can put someone above myself and I can do all these things without needing an escape.

I often wonder what would have happened if you hadn’t run over my foot with your suitcase and I didn’t sucker you into having lunch with me. You look as beautiful then as you do now, actually more so because we enjoy nighttime KitKats a few times a week. We dance it off part way so it’s fine.

I love you my brave, clever, gracious muse.

Your koala bear who runs hot,

Dieter Bravo

P.S. - You should frame this FYI

Falling back on the bed, you question when Dieter would have slipped this into your suitcase let alone written it. It’s completely in character for him and at the same time, seems so unusual. Trying to hold your tears back only makes them fall harder, you’ll need to re-do your makeup for the dinner but it doesn’t matter to you if you’re late. Dieter will never fail to make himself memorable.

Life as Dieter Bravo’s wife is always full of the unexpected and something to hold onto.

Trash Panda Posse 🦝: @katw474 @readingiskeepingmegoing @megamindsecretlair @pamasaur @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @sp00kymulderr @titlee78 @magpiepills @soft-girl-musings @morallyinept @rhoorl @wannab-urs @survivingandenduring @missladym1981 @yorksgirl @fhatbhabie @tinytinymenace @yourcoolauntie

Special fluff guests: @grogusmum @maggiemayhemnj and @frenchiereading

[mysterious-moonstruck-musings]

Closed Position: Week 5 (Rumba Part 3)

Closed Position Masterlist ||| Main Masterlist Dieter Bravo x OFC (Katarina)

Series Summary: Dieter Bravo, now sober, was looking to change his bad boy image after hitting rock bottom. His team hoped that having him join the nationally televised family friendly dance competition, Dancing with the Stars, would be a good first step, if they can keep him out of trouble. 

Katarina Stamos expected her last season as a professional dancer on the show to go the same as it had for the past thirteen seasons. That all changed when she was partnered with the infamous Dieter Bravo. 

Dieter and Katarina are reluctantly thrown into their partnership and must learn to work together to succeed in the competition. In the process they form a deeper connection beyond the dance floor that neither anticipated.

Chapter Word Count: 13.5k

👉 Warnings: Themes dealing with intimate partner violence (not by or toward Dieter), past alcohol abuse, and past drug abuse. There will be fluff, tears, spicy language, and smut. This will be a slow burn. Read at your own risk. Dieter Bravo comes with his own warnings.

👉 Chapter Warnings: Dieter being a menace, improper use of a seat belt, Dieter with a guitar, serious sexual tension, improper ballroom dancing, Dieter's mouth, blasphemy (because of Dieter's mouth), smut, aftercare, fluff, and maybe a smidge of angst

Chapter Quote: “You know you wanna do it with me. Let’s cause a scene.” 

Kat's POV

On Friday, I awoke sweaty and aroused. I was almost certain I had been having a sex dream…about Dieter. That was a new experience. I was equal parts mortified and angry that the alarm woke me up before the climax. 

I sat up and stretched before reaching over to grab my phone and water bottle from the nightstand, unscrewing the lid and taking a long drink as I unlocked my phone. I turned my attention to email first, opening the app to make sure I didn’t have any new marching orders from Stacia and Joe. I didn’t, but there was an email from the medical clinic indicating that my test results were now available. I figured everything was probably fine, but that didn’t make it any less nerve wracking as I logged into their portal to check. I sighed in relief as I skimmed down the page, all negative. At least that was one less thing to worry about. I closed that app, then noticed there were new Instagram notifications. Dieter had apparently posted a couple of new stories. The first was a picture he had taken of me last night before dinner. I balked when I saw the included text said “My dance partner is hotter than yours,” with the hashtag #YourLoss. 

(Click pics to enlarge. More after the jump.)

That didn’t do anything to help my current state of arousal. The fact that he absolutely did not give a fuck was a serious turn on. However, I knew it was going to cause some raised eyebrows.

I sent a quick reply to the story, “Dieter, seriously?🤦🏻‍♀️😂”

My eyes rolled at his ridiculousness as I moved to take another drink of my water. I nearly choked, spilling half of it down the front of my shirt as his next story popped up on the screen. It was a mirror selfie of him sitting on the edge of the bed wearing nothing but his black boxer briefs and brown leather jacket. Once I finally stopped coughing, I audibly groaned. He looked so fucking good. Without a second thought, I took a screenshot, just as there was a knock at my door. I quickly locked my phone as I yelled “come in”, realizing too late that I probably looked like a hot mess. Dieter popped his head around the door, “Hey sleeping beauty…what in the world happened to you?”

I looked down at my shirt and rubbed aimlessly, “I spilled my water.” Because of you, you beautiful fucking tease. “What’s up?”

He looked amused, “I’m gonna go grab us some breakfast. I’ll be back.”

I gave him a deadpan stare, “I hope you found your pants.” 

He snorted, “Unfortunately for you, I did.”  

Fucker. I narrowed my eyes and chucked a pillow toward his face, “Shut up. Get out of here.” 

He laughed loudly as he pulled the door shut behind him. I heard the main door to the suite open and close a few minutes later. I screwed the lid back on my water and put it on the nightstand, huffing in frustration as I fell back onto the bed. His mere existence was making me crazy. At least we only had two days left here because I wasn’t sure how much more I could handle. I sighed, pulling up the screenshot of his story. Something about it caused the ache between my thighs to become almost painful. 

I scoffed, “Oh fuck this. I can’t take it anymore.”

I tossed my phone down beside me, then settled back into the pillow and closed my eyes. One hand sliding up my shirt to knead my breast while the other found its way under the waistband of my sleep shorts. I was soaking wet to the point that it was embarrassing. I couldn’t remember the last time I was this aroused. It was almost shocking considering it was over something so small. Or was it? Maybe it had just been building all week and was finally at a breaking point. 

I fought it at first, trying to think of anything but Dieter, but my mind kept going back to him sitting on the edge of the bed, thick thighs spread wide with that smoldering look on his face. Then my thoughts shifted to his large hands being the ones touching me. Now knowing how good he was with his hands had me craving his touch over every inch of my skin. I could only imagine how good it would feel for him to massage other parts of my body. Something told me he wouldn’t disappoint. 

I could feel the tension building, stretching so tight that it had me sweaty and gasping for air, but wouldn’t progress further than that. I was stuck on the edge, unable to finish. I think part of me knew allowing my thoughts to wander down this path was a terrible idea and was still fighting it. I stopped my ministrations, huffing loudly from frustration. Setting up, I sought out my suitcase to find the small vibrator I had brought. I should’ve just started with that. 

After searching it out, I settled into bed again, trying to get back in my zone with light touches, working my way up to it. Now that I allowed myself to freely think of Dieter, I seemed to get to the edge a lot quicker this time. Just as I turned the vibrator on, I heard the front door open and slam shut, followed by Dieter yelling, “Food’s here!”  

I turned the vibrator off and shoved it under my pillow, kicking my legs, groaning, and wanting to cry. How the hell is he back already? If I didn’t do something about this soon, I was going to spontaneously combust.

I rolled out of bed, pulling my hair up into a messy bun as I walked out into the living room. Dieter stared at me with furrowed brows. 

“You good? You look flushed…again.” 

Fuck. “Y-Yeah, I was just doing some yoga.” 

His brows arched, “You could do that in here ya know…where there’s more space. I promise I won’t gawk…too much…but maybe avoid the downward dog. I don’t need to see that.” 

I could feel the wetness on the inside of my thighs, suddenly thinking about how a little yoga session could turn dirty really fast under the right circumstances. 

I shook my head to clear that thought, remembering his last comment. 

“Why don’t you need to see that?” I asked. 

His face turned pink as he chuckled nervously, “Seriously? I’ve already told you that you have a nice ass. I wouldn’t be able to look away.” 

So, he’s an ass man. Got it. I snorted, “Well, at least you’re honest.” 

My eyes raked over the spread of food that he was now pulling out of bags, “Where did you go for all of this? That was super-fast.”

“There’s a diner just around the corner. I called it in and it was ready to go when I got there.” 

I nodded. That explains it. Of all days to get something quick…damn him. 

We sat down to eat. It took everything in me not to be distracted by the burning urge at my core. It eventually passed as we discussed the day’s schedule. Then I had to rush and get ready to head to the studio with him. It was dress rehearsal day, which I was pretty excited about. I couldn’t wait to see Dieter in action. 

Most of my day was spent standing around, watching Dieter and the cast go through the skits. During breaks he would come over to ask me for feedback. Overall I thought he was doing amazing. The way he could just turn it on and go into character fascinated me. He was so witty, and his timing was spot on. I could already tell the show was going to go well if it turned out to be anything like the dress rehearsals. I did appreciate that he took any suggestions I made as being constructive. He didn’t seem offended and even welcomed the input, giving my ideas a try on the next run through. 

By lunchtime, I was beginning to feel achy. The week’s chaotic schedule was catching up to me and I had hardly taken any self-care measures to avoid it. I’m sure the pent up tension I had been feeling didn’t help matters either. 

Dieter came to sit next to me at the table with our DoorDash delivery and began pulling food out of the bag as he eyed me popping two anti-inflammatory tablets. 

“You feeling ok?” he asked.

I slumped back in my seat and puffed air out through my cheeks, “Yeah…I’m just getting a little run down. My joints are protesting and determined to ruin my day. I think I may take advantage of that soaking tub tonight. It might help.” 

Dieter gave me a sympathetic look, “Anything I can do to help? I can go get you some herbal tea. Turmeric, ginger, and white willow bark are good anti-inflammatories. I drink those when my back bothers me.”

I was surprised he offered such a thing, but I really shouldn’t have been. The man knows his plants, of course that would carry over to herbal remedies. He also seemed to have a tendency to try and take care of me. 

I reached over and squeezed his knee, “Thank you, but I’ll be fine…I think. I’ll keep it in mind though.”

He looked disappointed as he took a bite of his sub sandwich, chewing thoughtfully for a moment.

“We’ve still got a few more skits to rehearse. Why don’t you go relax in my dressing room for a bit…get off your feet…we can do the monologue run through last.” 

I made a pouty face as I picked at my sandwich, “But then I won’t get to watch you rehearse.”

“I mean…you don’t have to, it was only a suggestion…just wanna make sure you're not hurting. I need you on top of your game after all.” 

I smiled at his meager attempt at a joke, “You know what, I may actually take you up on that offer. At least long enough for the pain meds to kick in.” I would never admit it to him, but I was actually starting to ache bad enough that it was getting hard to ignore. 

He nodded, “Good.”

That seemed to placate him for now. I did appreciate his concern. At least he showed me that he cared. It was more than Alec ever did. 

After I finished my sandwich, I stood and perched against the table beside Dieter, who was now scrolling on his phone.

“How long do you think it’ll take you all to finish up?”

Without looking up from his phone, his hand reached out toward me, slipping around my lower back before pulling me into his side. His hand came to rest on my hip as he finally looked up at me from where he was still sitting in the chair. 

It took me off guard, but I didn’t hate it. I responded by leaning into him and resting my hand at the nape of his neck. My fingers inched toward his curls, hesitating briefly before moving to scratch lightly at his scalp. It had to be one of the most casually intimate interactions we had ever had. I wanted more. 

When our eyes met, my breath hitched. God, he’s so fucking beautiful. I could feel his thumb running across the small area of exposed skin where my shirt had ridden up, causing goosebumps to form over my entire body. It would be so easy to crawl into his lap and kiss him right now. I exhaled slowly, attempting to focus my thoughts on something else. 

Dieter seemed to have been momentarily distracted too, but eventually gave me a small smile, seeming to remember that I had asked him a question. 

“I’ll come get you during our next break. Feel free to take a nap if you want. The leather sofa is pretty comfortable, but I can’t promise how clean it is. No telling who has been in that room…” 

I snorted out a laugh, “Noted.” 

I moved to leave, but his hand tightened on my hip. His gaze turned more intense, “Promise you’ll let me know if you need anything? I’ll go get whatever you want.” 

I smiled at him and ran my fingers through the top of his hair, brushing it away from his eyes. It felt strangely satisfying to do. “Don’t worry, I will. I promise. It’s not that bad, really.” 

He studied my face for a moment, seemingly satisfied with my response before dropping his arm. I was suddenly feeling much better and didn’t want to leave him after that exchange, but I didn’t want to try and explain my sudden recovery because it had everything to do with him. 

After that, I made my way to his dressing room and immediately sunk down onto the plushy leather sofa. There was a blanket draped over the back that seemed questionable, but I sort of didn’t care, wrapping myself up in it as I settled in for a nap. I was out as soon as I laid my head down. Hazy dreams that I wouldn’t remember followed. Only traces of the way it made me feel would remain - warm, safe, loved, and blissfully happy.   

I awoke sometime later to Dieter sitting on the edge of the couch beside me, his hand on my hip giving a gentle shake. He was looking at me with a smirk as I groaned and wiped the sleep from my eyes. 

“Time to wake up, sleeping beauty. How you feeling?”

I moved to sit up, his hand sliding down to rest on the side of my thigh in the process. 

“Better, I think. I didn’t realize how badly I needed that.”

He nodded, “Yeah, I think we’ve both been a little sleep deprived the last few days.”

He stood, “You ready to go over the monologue?” 

I laughed nervously, “I suppose. This is about to be a disaster…”

Dieter shook his head, “Nope, you’ve got this. Just focus on me and the cue cards if you need them. Forget anyone else is in the room.”

That’s easy to do. I do it often enough. I stood and followed him out to the stage, both of us taking our places. The first time through was…rough. By the fourth time, I relaxed into it some, creating a playful banter between us, which was the goal. Dieter’s facial expressions to my joking insults were so on point. It was hard for me to keep from laughing. I really hoped I could keep it together during the live shows. The fifth and final time, we managed to nail it, which left me feeling much more confident about the whole thing. 

Dieter and I were standing just in front of the stage exchanging notes on our last run through when one of the writers, Judy, came over and invited us out for open mic night at a local blues club. I knew there would probably be alcohol there, so I was tempted to decline. I glanced over at Dieter with a questioning look, “I’ll leave that up to you.” 

Dieter shrugged, “We could spare a couple of hours, right? I wouldn’t mind getting you up on stage...” A mischievous grin was now plastered across his face as I started to shake my head. 

“Nope. Not happening, Bravo.” 

Judy’s eyes lit up, “Wait, do you sing?”

Dieter bumped his shoulder against mine, still smiling, “She sings and plays. She’s amazing.” 

I was still shaking my head, “Dieter, no. I refuse.” 

He put an arm around my shoulders, hugging me against his side as he leaned in close to my ear, “I’ll do it if you will.” 

I sighed, “Now you’re playing dirty…asshole.” 

Dieter snorted out a laugh as Judy grabbed my arm, “Come on Kat, it’ll be a good time. It would be amazing to see you two do something like that together.” 

I puffed air out of my cheeks, “Alright fine. We can go…but I’m not making any promises.” 

Dieter bear hugged me, shaking me from side to side as he yelled “Yaaaaasss” a little louder than necessary. I laughed and rolled my eyes at his enthusiasm. Judy snickered at Dieter’s antics, “Great, I’ll let everyone know you’re coming. You can share a ride with us if you don’t mind being squished in. It’s not that far away.”

Dieter glanced over at me, a smirk on his lips, “That’s fine, Kat can sit on my lap if need be.” 

Fucking hell. Why is he torturing me like this? I narrowed my eyes on him as Judy chuckled, “Cool, I’ll go gather everyone up.” 

After she walked away, I leaned over to Dieter and quietly asked, “You sure this is ok? You know they’ll probably be drinking…”

He sighed, “I’m gonna have to be around it at some point. It’s inevitable.” He gave me a soft smile as he took my hand and entwined his fingers with mine, “Besides…you’re gonna be there with me, so I’ll be fine.” 

His eyes crinkled around the edges as his smile grew. I could tell that he believed what he was saying. It caused butterflies to form in my stomach when I considered the possible implications behind his words. 

A short time later, a group of us squished into the back of a black SUV. Dieter sat in the very back corner. I hopped in behind him. Just as I was about to settle into the seat, he pulled me onto his lap, sitting me at an angle across his thighs. He wordlessly reached up behind him with his left hand to pull the seat belt out and motioned for me to fasten it around the both of us. Judy and one other person slid onto the bench seat beside us as he wrapped his arms around my middle and hugged me against his chest.  

Dieter’s proximity caused him to completely invade all of my senses. His face was close enough to mine that I could almost taste his lips. I was cocooned in his smell and warmth, causing me to melt into his embrace. I could feel his hot breath blowing against the side of my neck and hear it hitch as I smiled shyly at him. The sight of his rounded brown eyes gazing deeply into mine made my heart skip a beat. For a brief moment, the world fell away, and it was just us getting lost in each other's eyes. He tucked his bottom lip between his teeth before turning his attention to Judy who had apparently asked a question. 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” he said almost in a daze.

“Do you play too?” she asked again. 

Dieter shrugged, “I guess you could call it that.”

I smiled down at him, “He plays the guitar and sings. He’s really good.” 

A smile tugged at his lips as a blush crept across his cheeks. He squeezed me a little tighter as he leaned his forehead against my jaw. 

Judy clapped her hands excitedly, “This is gonna be so much fun.” 

I wished I shared her enthusiasm, but I couldn’t. Dieter laughed, his eyes meeting mine again.

“You gonna have some fun with me, Kit Kat?” My brow arched. Fucking tease. 

I shifted to put my arm around his neck, “Depends on which definition of fun we’re talking about.” 

His left hand that now rested on my hip gripped a little tighter as his eyes roamed over my face. I could tell he wasn’t sure how to take that comment. Good. Stew on that one. One side of his lips tugged upward, “I’m open to trying any definition of your choosing.” 

My jaw nearly dropped. What. The. Fuck. Is he doing? I glanced around the car, worried someone was going to hear us, but everyone now seemed engrossed in one of the multiple conversations happening between the occupants. I could feel myself relax knowing that they all seemed distracted. 

He shifted to lean in closer, causing his right hand to slide up my jean covered thigh a few inches. His lips grazed the shell of my ear as he spoke in a low gravelly voice, “We gonna rehearse for a bit after this?”

When he pulled away I couldn’t help staring at his pouty bottom lip briefly before my eyes flicked up to his. I nodded, “I’m not gonna let you get out of it that easily. You still need a little work.” 

He chuckled, “Right…Whatever you say, sweetheart.” 

I gave him an admonishing look over the pet name as he fought a smile. We were interrupted by the opening of doors, having arrived at the club. 

The club wasn’t really what I was expecting. The walls were dark, but it was hard to tell what color they actually were because every inch of the place was bathed in a crimson glow from the red lantern like light fixtures hanging overhead. A decently sized stage sat in the center of the room with equipment scattered about. The stage was surrounded by tables and plushy booths where people sat enjoying meals. A bar lined the wall on the far side, which made me cringe a little, but overall the atmosphere seemed very chill. It didn’t give off any sort of party vibe. 

We were seated at a large table next to the stage. Judy sat on one side of me, Dieter on the other. I sat in silence taking in my surroundings while Dieter chatted away with one of the cast members seated on the other side of him. Everyone seemed to be in good spirits and eager to engage with him. It appeared that whatever damage he had caused during his previous time with them had been repaired. It made me happy that he was making progress in that area because I knew how worried he had been about it. 

A server soon appeared and began taking everyone’s drink order. To my surprise, not a single person ordered alcohol. I briefly wondered if that was something they had discussed as a group beforehand or not. Either way, I appreciated it. Dieter was still chattering away so I’m sure he hadn’t even noticed. 

I had just started flipping through the menu when, without a word, Dieter grabbed my chair and pulled me closer to his side. I looked up at him with furrowed brows. He gave me a cheesy smile as he rested his arm along the back of my seat, “I didn’t get a menu. Gotta share. What are we getting?”

I gave him a disbelieving smile and rolled my eyes, tilting the menu toward him so he could look at it with me. By this point in the week, we had gotten into the habit of picking out meals that we both wanted to try so we could sample each other’s dishes. I settled on the blackened chicken carbonara while he went with a Cajun chicken and shrimp pasta. 

After ordering, his arm remained around the back of my chair as he leaned in closer to talk to Judy on the other side of me. His full attention seemed to be on her, yet his fingers had found their way to the back of my hair, lightly stroking through it as he talked. I tried to be present during their conversation, but it was hard to focus on anything other than his soft touch. To be honest, I wasn’t even sure what the hell they were talking about. 

Our attention was soon drawn to the stage as open mic night got underway. The host of the evening, Brian, was already badgering people to go sign up before it even started. Before he introduced the first performer, he caught sight of Dieter sitting in front of the stage. He stopped mid-sentence and changed course, “OH Damn, we got Dieter Bravo in the house tonight y’all!”

His eyes shifted to me as the room whooped and whistled, “AND Kat Stamos is here too! Y’all shouldn’t have sat next to the stage. Imma be giving you hell all night.” 

We all laughed, but I felt like I was dying inside just a little bit. I hated being the center of attention like this. Judy took that moment to yell out, “Get them up on stage!” Fucking hell.

Brian’s eyebrows arched, “Oh you guys gonna perform for us?”

I shook my head as Dieter tried to laugh it off. He must have sensed my nervousness because his free hand found its way to my thigh and squeezed gently. 

Brian laughed, “I’ll come back to you later. I’m not lettin’ that go.” Everyone cheered. Fuck. This is not how I saw the evening going. The host finally moved on to introducing the first performer just as our dinner was served. Aside from taste testing each other's food, we ate mostly in silence, enjoying the soulful blues performances taking place mere feet from us. I thought we had escaped the wrath of Brian, but I was wrong. Just as we were finishing up, Brian was back on stage asking if anyone wanted to fill the next open slot. When no one came forward, his eyes focused on us.

“A little birdy told me that Dieter and Kat have some hidden talents. I think this would be a good time to get them up here!” 

I glanced over at Judy, who looked guilty before her nervous smile turned to an encouraging one. I felt a sudden adrenaline rush coursing through me as I turned to Dieter. A small part of me really wanted to see him sing and play on stage. 

“Go on, get to it. You said you would do it,” I teased with a smile.

He shook his head, “No, I said I would, if you did. You gotta come too.”

He stood up, which seemed to get the crowd riled up further, “Come on Kit Kat. You know you wanna do it with me. Let’s cause a scene.” 

I laughed. This is NOT what I wanna do with you, sir. I puffed air out of my cheeks. “Fine…but you owe me a solo performance too.” 

“You let me pick the song and I’ll do anything you tell me to,” he replied with a dimpled smile. Fucker. I couldn’t pass that up.

He grabbed my hand, tugging me up out of the seat. The cheers in the room were almost deafening as he pulled me up onto the stage. He grabbed one of the acoustic guitars from the stand, taking a minute to strum and tune it as he chatted with the house band. Brian walked over and offered me a wireless mic before disappearing. The handle felt slick in my sweaty palms as I turned toward Dieter who was moving toward the mic stand in the center of the stage. He gave me a sneaky grin as he worked to raise the stand to his height. I smiled at him nervously as I raised my mic to speak, “Alright Bravo, what's it gonna be?” 

Dieter was still smiling at me as he strummed a couple bars of the opening notes, waiting for my realization to kick in. It didn’t take long. It was the song I had been humming along to on Wednesday. The one he said that he wanted to hear me sing right before we had the almost kiss, or whatever the hell that was. I chuckled, rolling my eyes at him. He turned to his mic, “I hope you’re ready to have your minds blown by this beautiful and talented woman standing on stage with me.” 

I could feel the heat creeping up my cheeks as the audience responded with whistles and applause. I couldn’t help hiding behind my hand. I could hear Dieter’s deep rumbling laugh through the sound system. It vibrated through every inch of my body as I took a deep breath, mentally preparing myself for what we were about to do. I had sung in front of crowds before, but that was during family gatherings. This was different, almost daunting. Especially since I knew videos would inevitably find their way online for the world to see. 

Dieter turned toward me and leaned in to ask, “You good?” 

I gave him a nervous smile, taking another deep breath as I nodded. 

“Focus on me if you need to,” he said. I nodded again. 

He bumped his shoulder against mine, “Ok, here we go.” 

I watched as his thick fingers began to pluck out the opening notes to Blood on a Rose. My eyes met his sultry gaze just as the words to the first verse left my lips.  🎶 (Song link for reference)

Your voice in my ear / The world disappears / So I'll fall again / You can keep me right here / Haunting my soul / A beautiful thorn / You rapture my heart / Leave me broken and torn

The lyrics were suddenly taking on a new meaning for me. He WAS haunting my soul, and I was torn between keeping things professional and completely losing myself to him. I was inching closer to him now, singing only for him. We had seemingly become completely entranced by each other as I moved into the chorus. 

This love is killing me / The pain must be part of the cure / It's so hard to breathe when I need you so bad that it burns / You are the fire, love is the blood on a rose

I felt every word of it. This game we were playing had turned into nothing short of torture. My desire for him was reaching a new peak as the electricity crackled between us like it never had before. We were connecting in a new way that suddenly felt more intimate than the dancing. Maybe because we could both sense that there was some truth to the lyrics. I couldn’t keep myself from reaching up to brush the curl away that had fallen down over his forehead, then settled my hand on his cheek as I began the next verse. 

Lost in your eyes / These ties that bind / Body and soul / Leaving nothing behind / Don't know how to stop / Don't know how to stay / These chains might break / But you like it that way

And lost in his eyes I was. I don’t think either of us had broken eye contact since the first note of music sounded. We were standing so close together by the time I went into the next round of the chorus that I could have easily leaned in to kiss him if there hadn't been a guitar between us. After a short building instrumental interlude, he shifted, angling the guitar in front of me. He leaned in toward the mic just as I started the final two refrains of the chorus and joined in. 

The rush that I felt from his closeness was insane. My entire body was tingling and covered in goosebumps with his face now inches from mine, our gazes still locked as he belted out the words, harmonizing perfectly with me. Sharing this moment and this part of myself with him was waking something up inside of me. A craving unlike anything I had ever felt, and he was the only one that could satisfy it. 

When the song ended, we just sort of stared at each other for a few beats as applause and cheers broke out around us. He smirked as he pulled me into his side and kissed me on the cheek. Just as I pulled away, the crowd began to chant “One more!”. I laughed, shaking my head as I raised the mic to speak, “I think the next one is on Dieter. I’m done.” 

Dieter gave me his best sad puppy dog look. I shook my head again, “Nope. I’m done. It’s your turn.” He rolled his eyes as I turned to exit the stage, receiving praise as I went. I politely smiled in thanks, moving to take my seat at the table directly in front of where Dieter was now standing.

I could see that he was feeling anxious as he fidgeted with the guitar strap, then adjusted the mic, “Well, I don’t have Kat up here to make me look good anymore.” He laughed nervously, “So, you all better take it easy on me.”

The audience filled with quiet laughter as he turned around, briefly speaking with the house band one more time before returning to the mic. His voice started with the music, slow and deep. Bluesy guitar riffs intermingling with his somber tone. Every word was laced with emotion as his eyes focused on me. 

🎶 (Song link for reference)

Bright lights with the side of passion / Nightlife, welcome the attraction / Her satin gloves wrapped all around / She lift me up, then, she knocked me down / I fell in love, she showed me how / She takes a puff and it's curtains now

I was happy to be sitting, because my legs would have given out on me if I hadn’t been. He was literally taking my breath away. This was way more intense than the first time I had seen him sing. I could feel it in my bones - in every cell. I couldn’t handle how fucking perfect and beautiful he was. 

Judy grabbed my arm, “I had no idea he sounded like this. He’s so fucking good!” 

All I could manage was a small nod, not taking my eyes off him as he transitioned to the chorus. 

She drives a camera crazy / I think she knows it / There ain't no one above her and she ain't afraid to own it / The glitz and glamor slay me / But is it hopeless? / This goddess of a woman really gets the people going / Close up, zoom out / From every angle, yeah, she lay me down / Choked up, no doubt / She hard to handle, but she'll keep you 'round

His anxiety appeared to have dissipated. He now seemed slightly cocky even. The rawness and passion in his voice was seriously doing something to me. My thighs were now clenching together under the table. The ache at my center went from zero to painful in an instant. I sighed. This may very well be what finally breaks me. 

As he moved into the second verse, something about his expression changed. It was more playful as he fought a smirk, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip during the brief lyrical pauses. His eyes were borderline seductive as he continued to focus on me. Something told me he knew what he was doing, and that thought only made me squirm more. I couldn’t help questioning his song choice. I found myself wondering how much truth was behind the lyrics. 

Might bite when they call for action / Shines like she'll evoke reaction /  I feel it jump, heart starts to pound / She pulled the plug, really show me now / We fell in love, she showed me how / Hands are cuffed as I slowly drown

By the time he hit the chorus again, he was in full performance mode - sliding the guitar behind his back and gripping the microphone between both hands with confidence. It had to be one of the hottest things I had ever seen. A confident Dieter seemed to be my new weakness.

Everyone in the room collectively lost their minds when he finished. I could hear murmurs around about how amazing he sounded and how surprised everyone was by his talent. He was shocking people left and right this week and I was loving every second of it. I was proud of him and suddenly understood the urge of wanting to show him off. He was MY dance partner after all. If he could use that as an excuse, then so could I. 

After a shy “thank you” to the audience, Dieter rejoined us at the table and was met with fist bumps, claps, and pats on the back. He had a dopey grin on his face as he finally sat down beside me. When he noticed me looking at him, his demeanor shifted, seemingly unsure of himself now. I gave him a comforting smile, reaching to lace my fingers with his.

“You did such a good job. I’m a little speechless.”

He huffed out a relieved chuckle, shifting to put his arm along the back of my seat as he leaned in next to my ear, “You were amazing. I could listen to you all night.” 

It was my turn to be embarrassed. I could feel the blush creeping up my cheeks, but I still managed to pluck up the courage to ask, “Those were some interesting song choices. Why did you pick them?”

Dieter leaned back into his chair and took a drink of water with his free hand, seemingly weighing his response. He finally shrugged, “They seemed to fit the mood of the evening.” 

He’s being cryptic with that answer. My brows pinched together, “What does that mean?” 

A cocky grin spread across his face, “You tell me.” 

My mouth opened to speak, then snapped shut. I don’t know what to do with that. What is he insinuating? 

We were suddenly interrupted by two younger women who asked to take a selfie with us. We agreed, of course. After they spent a few minutes fawning over us, they thankfully left. Dieter immediately turned his attention back to me, smiling as he draped his arm back around my shoulders.

“I’m almost afraid to check social media after this gets out. You know there’ll be videos,” I said. 

He snickered, “Well, let’s beat them to it. Story time!”

Dieter shifted to pull out his phone and snapped a quick selfie of us, then posted it to his Instagram story with a smirk. I’d have to check to see what ridiculousness he added to it later. After setting his phone down on the table, his hand found its way to my thigh and rubbed gently as he asked “When do you wanna head back?” 

His gaze locked with mine as I reveled in the sensation from his touch. The thigh touching was new, he did it so casually now and I was loving every second of it. I wanted more. 

“Umm, lemme run to the ladies room, then we can go,” I finally said. 

Judy’s attention was drawn to me as I got up. I motioned that I was going to the bathroom which prompted her to stand and join me. We had to wait in line for several minutes, quietly chatting amongst ourselves as we did so.

“I’ve gotta say, Dieter has shocked us all this week. He’s like a completely different person. He’s actually been pretty amazing to work with,” she said.

I smiled, “Yeah, I know he’s been working really hard. He was excited to be asked back.” 

“I’ll admit, a lot of us were not happy about him coming back at first. He was an absolute asshole last time…when he wasn’t trying to get laid that is. He was a mess.” 

That probably shouldn’t bother me, but it sort of did. I had to remind myself that he hadn’t kept his past a secret. I knew he used to sleep around. Maybe it was just starting to hit me differently after the Alec thing. 

“Being sober has done him good though. I think you're having a positive impact on him too. He seems much more relaxed when you're around,” she added with a knowing look in her eyes. 

My brows furrowed, “What do you mean?” 

She shrugged, “I dunno. He just appears to be…happier maybe? You seem very in tune with each other.” She leaned in closer, “I’ve gotta ask…because I honestly can’t figure you two out…Do you have something going on? Like…are you together?” 

I scoffed, “No. Absolutely not. I mean, sure, we’ve gotten close…I understand what he’s going through because my dad had the same issues…And this show and all the drama that comes with it is putting us through the wringer. We’ve just become good friends through all of it.”

She didn’t look convinced, “All I’m gonna say is…he was tryin’ to get with anyone that would give him the time of day last time he was here. Now, he only has eyes for you. That man is one hundred percent into you.”

I laughed nervously, “No he’s not. It’s not like that with us.” 

She gave me a doubtful look as she moved to take the next open stall, “If you say so, honey.” 

I stood there, a little dumbfounded for a moment. Maybe I wasn’t imagining things?

I tried to put Judy’s words out of my mind as I walked back to the table. I was still trying to convince myself that she was wrong. Do I think he flirts sometimes? Yes. But he’s Dieter fucking Bravo. That’s just how he is. To say he only has eyes for me is a whole other level that I was not fully convinced of yet. Of course, now that I was thinking about it, I couldn’t actually recall having seen him flirt with anyone else. Not even in a joking manner. That had to be because he was comfortable around me though. Right? 

As I approached the table, I realized Dieter was saying his goodbyes. He turned to me with a soft smile on his face, “I took care of our bill, and our ride should be here any minute.” 

Damn, he didn’t waste any time. I nodded, then turned to bid my farewells to everyone for the evening and thanked them for inviting us. Once finished, Dieter grabbed my hand and led me through the crowd to the exit where we found our Uber already waiting.

The ride back to the hotel was oddly quiet, but I could still feel a strange electricity crackling between us. Something had definitely changed between us tonight. I couldn’t keep my eyes from shifting in his direction and roaming over his profile as he stared out the window of the car. The city lights occasionally illuminated his face in various shades of white, blue, and pink - emphasizing his aquiline nose and pouty lips in a way that was making it hard for me to breathe. I knew I should look away, but I couldn’t. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could ignore the feelings I was having toward him. Being with him as much as I had this week was causing a raging monster to grow inside of me, and it wanted him. After tonight, I didn’t think I could lock it away any longer.

Once we reached the hotel, I linked my arm with his as we walked inside toward the elevators. After the elevator doors closed, his arm shifted to wrap around my waist, tucking me into his side. I was suddenly surrounded by the scent of him, earthy and woody with a soft citrus undertone. It was intoxicating and I had to remind myself not to lean in to inhale him. His husky voice broke through my thoughts, “Do you still wanna rehearse some tonight? I guess we probably should, huh?”

I raised my head to look at him, startled by how close his face was to mine. Fuck. He’s beautiful. I cleared my throat, staring up at him through my lashes, “Yeah, I mean…maybe we can just run through it a few times with the music.” 

The elevator doors opened to our floor. I moved away from him to exit, “I’m just gonna run and change first. Tight jeans are not ideal…” I added with a chuckle, swiping into the room as I spoke. He nodded, agreeing that he was going to change as well.  

I changed into black leggings and a matching zip front sports bra, then met Dieter in the living room. We stuck to our routine of rehearsing on the terrace. It wasn’t a cold night but being up on the top floor definitely made it a little chilly. Dieter made some sort of comment about keeping the blood flowing to stay warm and my thoughts spiraled. The fact that we were stuck doing one of the most intimate dances this week was not helping matters. I suddenly had butterflies in my stomach realizing what we were about to do while I was in my current state. I don’t know if I can do this and keep it together. 

I queued up the music using the small Bluetooth speaker and my phone, then hit play on my watch once we got into position. On our first run-through, I messed up several times because I couldn’t concentrate, but we managed to make it through in the midst of laughter. Dieter was completely throwing me off my game with his new found confidence and intense focus. His hesitation with physical contact had disappeared only to be replaced by a cocky smirk and playful glint in his eyes, which was beyond distracting. I felt like he knew what effect it was having on me too. 

On our second run-through, we shook off our giggles and managed to focus, if that’s what you could even call it. The electric current between us was buzzing at max levels as we channeled the intimacy of the dance. Our touches became more sensual and less playful, the looks between us now lingering, the space between us disappearing. Instead of just our foreheads touching during those more intimate moves, our noses were now nuzzling against each other with our lips centimeters apart. Every nerve ending in my body was like a livewire, shocking me where our skin touched. By the time the song came to an end, the vibe between us had completely shifted. I stepped away, laughing nervously, “Well, that one went much better. I think we have a pretty good grasp on it. Do you wanna call it a night?” I need to get away from him. Now. Or I’m gonna lose what little control I have.

Dieter rubbed at the back of his neck as he peered up at me through his lashes, the corner of his lip twitched upward before he spoke, “I dunno, I think maybe we should go through it one or two more times…at least. If you’re feeling up to it…of course.” I could feel his chocolate eyes boring into me as he fought a smile. What the fuck is this? Why does he keep looking at me like that? His words from a few days ago popped into my head, “I’ll behave unless I’m told to do otherwise.”

Surely, he’s not…no. Is he? I felt like he was trying to get a read on where I was with things. Did he feel the shift too? My intuition was telling me that if we kept rehearsing right now, something was going to happen. This whole situation we had been thrust into was setting us up for this and I was falling for it. My gut told me he was too. My head was telling me to call it a night, but my traitorous lady bits were throbbing at the possibility of seeing what else Dieter Bravo could do with those loose hips of his. I suddenly felt like everything was hinging on my response. I must have taken longer than I realized to answer him, because Dieter’s brows furrowed as my name slipped out between his lips. My attention snapped back to him as he asked, “Is everything ok?”

My eyes widened, meeting his, “Yeah, sorry. I was thinking through the ending. I’m not sure it feels right.”

He arched a brow as the smirk returned, “I agree, it’s almost sort of… anticlimactic?” 

I nodded, “Yeah…I agree.” Maybe with a new focus, the tension might dissipate some. “Are you good to do another lift?” I asked.

He shrugged, his eyes were almost smoldering now, “I’m good with whatever you wanna do.” 

I felt like his words had a double meaning behind them. I tried my best to ignore my thoughts as I worked through the moves in my head, “Alright, I’m not sure how to explain this…ummm…as I turn, allow me to complete the turn into your side while lifting me up onto your hip. You’re gonna bend your leg slightly for me to rest on as you dip me backward, run your hand down my side then snap me up for the final pose.” 

He stood staring at me with a confused look etched on his face. I sighed, “Ok, hold on.” I moved to pick up my phone, closing my eyes for a minute to think where I had seen that move before. I somehow managed to pull it out of the recesses of my mind and quickly found it on YouTube to show him. He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he watched, then nodded, “Yeah, I like that better.” 

We tried it several times and managed to get it down after some struggles and laughter. Then we decided to go through the whole routine again with the new ending. The tension between us quickly returned - pretty much picking up where it left off. Especially when we hit the first lift. From my position on the floor, I raised my legs and hooked them over the tops of his thighs. He slowly lifted me off the ground as I rolled my torso upward and hooked my hands around his neck pulling his face up to meet mine. Our lips grazed against each other this time. The position that we found ourselves in felt more intimate than it ever had as he did a full turn, and I released the hold my legs had around his waist to plant my feet on the ground. We stayed in the embrace a few beats longer than we should have but kept going after finally breaking apart. 

Our lips continued to lightly brush against each other throughout the rest of the routine. This was new. We had never gotten this close and intimate during a dance. It was causing blood to rush to my aching core. There was no way we could keep this up or else I was going to burst into flames. I could feel my control slipping away with each passing second. 

By the time we reached the end with the final lift I was hanging on by a thread. When I turned and he lifted me onto his hip for the dip, he didn’t just run his hand down my side. He started by caressing my neck, skimmed the center of my breasts, then down my side to pull me upward toward his face. Instead of just resting my hand on the back of his neck, it seemed to have a mind of its own as it moved upward and fisted in the curls at the nape. I could feel his heated breath rush out against my lips as he closed his eyes from the sensation, a quiet whimper escaping his throat before nuzzling his nose with mine. He pulled back slightly, allowing his gaze to settle on me. He looked dazed as I continued to slowly pull away to stand. His hand slid down my arm and gripped my fingertips until they were out of his reach.

I turned away, brushing my hair back off my face and inhaling deeply in an attempt to compose myself. Fuck, I’ve never felt anything this intense before. It was really messing with my head. He was like a magnet pulling me in. There was no way I could fight this for seven more weeks. The pull was too strong. If it didn’t happen now, it was going to eventually unless something changed. 

His voice broke through my thoughts, “One more time?” He asked. His voice sounded off. Smoother and deeper somehow. Like honey and sex. I turned to look at him, his eyes widening slightly, “Or, we can call it a night…if you prefer.” He could sense my reluctance and was giving me an out. Deep down I knew he was testing me. I could sense that he wanted it just as badly as I did. 

I shook my head, “N-No…one more time should do it. Our timing was still a little off. I think we can get it right this time.” 

One corner of his lips tugged upward. Did I have a double meaning behind my words now? Fuck. What am I doing? We got into position as I started the music again. The last of the frayed threads that had been holding us back were finally pulling apart. After the first turn, he placed his hands on my hips and pulled my back tightly against his front. I could feel every inch of his broad body pressed against me, including the stiffness in his pants. There was no polite space there this time as I reached up behind me with my right hand to the back of his neck, grasping at his curls. His fingertips slid down the underside of my arm as his lips lowered to brush against the shell of my ear, then trailed down my neck before transitioning to the next move. I could still feel the blazing path of his mouth on my skin, even after it was gone.

Our touches continued to intensify as we got to the first lift. This is when the threads finally snapped. After I rolled my torso upright and pulled his face upward to meet mine, he stopped moving. His breathing was noticeably shallower as I cupped his cheeks and stared into his darkened eyes. Slowly leaning in further, and without thinking, I placed the lightest of kisses on his lips before pulling back to meet his gaze again. His eyes searched my face as a conflicted expression overtook his features. I loosened the grip my legs had around his waist so he could set me down, which he did, but his hands kept me pulled snugly against his chest as they caressed over the bare skin of my lower back. 

He pressed his forehead against mine, I could tell he wanted to kiss me, but he was holding back. His words popped into my head again, “I’ll behave unless I’m told to do otherwise.”  I realized then, he’s following my lead in this dance. I pressed my lips against his again, his response was tentative and gentle. Almost like he was afraid he might scare me away if he moved too quickly. My hands slid from his cheeks into his hair, pulling him in closer and deepening the kiss. His lips parted, allowing me entrance. It was soft and sensual the way he massaged my tongue with his. God, he’s such a good kisser. I had never really thought that about anyone in the past, now I realized why. There was an art to it, and Dieter Bravo had mastered it. 

My thighs clenched together, the throb at my center was now unbearable. I couldn’t take it anymore. I knew there was no fighting it at this point as my hands dropped down to the hem of his shirt and lifted it over his head. The soft fabric was replaced by my fingers splayed across his bare chest. He leaned in and kissed me briefly before pausing and placing his hands on either side of my neck with his thumbs resting on my chin, gently stroking my face. He pulled back, his intense eyes locking with mine. “Are you sure about this?” he asked.

I nodded in response, but then he continued, “If we do this…it changes everything. I-I can’t go back to the way things were before. It’s all or nothing for me.” He was deadly serious as his eyes bore into me, unblinking as he searched mine. His intensity took me by surprise, and only seemed to spur me on. I let out a shaky breath, his vehemence causing my heart to pound in my ears. I nodded again, “I’m sure.”

He must have found what he was looking for as his eyes danced around my face, because it was like a dam had broken when his lips finally crashed against mine. He was suddenly full of passion and need. His hands roamed over the length of my body as he walked us backward toward the open door to go inside. Once we passed the threshold, he turned, pressing me up against the curtain covered floor-to-ceiling window. My leg hooked around his hip as he rutted against my center, nearly causing me to come undone from the contact. 

His lips made their way down my neck, but he still seemed hesitant in touching me where I wanted him to. I grabbed his hands and brought them to my breast, encouraging him to have his way with me. He gave them a tentative squeeze, before groaning against my jaw. One of my hands fisted in the top of his hair as the other moved to the front zipper on my bra, “It’s ok to touch me, Dieter. I want you to…need you to…please.” I begged through heavy pants. 

He whimpered against my skin as I pulled the zipper down, his hands immediately reaching for and massaging at the soft exposed flesh as I managed to slide the bra off down my arms. He raised his head, his tongue quickly plunged into my mouth as one of his hands began to move downward at a painfully slow pace until he was finally rubbing against the spot that I wanted him most. It was my turn to whimper into his mouth now. It wasn’t enough, I wanted more. My hips bucked against his palm. He seemed to understand, moving to dip his hand into the front of my leggings, his digits sliding over my slick folds, expertly caressing and teasing me. I quickly turned into a quivering mess as he licked and sucked on my neck and worked me over with his thick fingers. 

He suddenly withdrew his hand, now sliding both down my sides and hooking his fingers under the band of my leggings, he paused quietly whispering into my ear, “Is this ok?” I let out a breathy “yes” as he continued to pepper me with kisses, slowly moving down my body with his mouth as he removed the rest of my clothing, completely exposing me. I was burning for him. I couldn’t remember ever feeling like this before. The hungry look in his eyes as he sucked a nipple into his mouth only exacerbated the feeling. 

Dieter sank to his knees, lifting my left leg over his shoulder as he pulled away from my breast with a pop. He turned his attention to kissing and nibbling at my inner thigh, dragging his patchy stubble against my skin as his lips made a fiery path to the apex. His teasing touches were maddening. I knew I wasn’t going to last long. When he finally moved to my folds, licking up the center with the flat of his tongue, my legs nearly gave out. He hummed against me before latching on to the sensitive and throbbing bundle of nerves, sucking and flicking his tongue in tandem as his hands gripped my ass and held me firmly against his mouth. I doubled over almost immediately, my hands fisting in his hair for balance. Fucking hell, how did he do that? The loud moan that escaped my lips was almost embarrassing. I somehow managed to get myself upright and grabbed onto the door facing to my left for support. I was already covered in sweat, breathing heavily, and thighs shaking from the building release. Another quick jolt of pleasure ran through me, nearly causing me to double forward again. A breathy, “What the fuck!?!?” escaped my lips. I’d never felt anything like this before. 

I could feel the deep rumble of his chuckle as he broke away with another pop, looking up at me through his lashes, “Everything ok, sweetheart?” 

My eyes narrowed at the pet name. I could tell he was using that word purposefully. His defiance only further stimulated my arousal. “I don’t think I told you to stop.”  

That cocky smirk was back again, “Yes, ma’am.” 

He dove back in, more enthusiastic than before - groaning out profane sounds as he worked. I was fairly certain he was sucking my soul out through my cunt. His mouth should be considered the eighth wonder of the world. He should be worshiped. My debauched thoughts were already sending me to hell, so why not add the worship of a false god to the list? 

I couldn’t help grinding and arching into him, it felt so good it was almost painful. My release hit out of nowhere, my vision going dark before filling with bursts of color behind my eyelids. My ears began ringing, muffling all sound. The primal cry that came from deep within my chest shocked me. My whole body was shaking to the point that I could hardly stand. I could feel Dieter in front of me now, nuzzling his slick covered nose against mine with his hands around my waist, holding me tightly against him for support.  

I snorted out a breathless laugh, “I think I just blacked out for a minute.” 

I could feel him laughing against my throat. “Somebody was wound up tight,” he said between kisses. I knotted his hair in my hand and tilted his face upward to meet my gaze, “I don’t think I’ve ever come that fast, or hard…” 

He smirked. “You can wipe that smug look off your face,” I added through a chuckle. 

He shrugged as a cheesy grin spread across his face, “You know Kit Kats are my favorite thing to eat. What did you expect?”

I snorted, “You DID NOT just say that.” 

He laughed loudly, “I totally did, and I’ll never not say it again. It’s too good.” 

I smiled against his lips before pulling him in for a deep kiss, tasting the after effects of his handiwork. I wasn’t done with him yet. My right hand slid down through the light smattering of wiry hair at the base of his abdomen, then down the front of his gym shorts, rubbing his hard length. He melted into me as I swallowed his moans, pushing his shorts and boxer briefs down, exposing him to me. His size was as I suspected, girthy and above average in length, but not in a ridiculous way. He was perfect and I was aching to feel him. I NEEDED to feel him. I hooked my leg around his hip, encouraging him to rub against my slick center. He paused suddenly, his forehead dropping to my shoulder, “What’s wrong?” I asked. 

He raised his head to look at me with a grimace, “I…uhhh…I don’t have any condoms. I wasn’t expecting…this.” 

His rounded brown eyes were full of regret and maybe a little embarrassment at his admission. God, he’s perfect. I gave him a small smile, “I think I would’ve had more questions if you did have them.” He chuckled as I cupped his cheek, “It’s fine. I got the all clear and I’m on birth control…I trust you.” 

His brows arched upwards as he shook his head, “I haven’t…with anyone. I swear” 

I smiled against his lips, “I know…I told you, I trust you.” 

He huffed out a sigh of relief, kissing me once more as he grabbed my ass and lifted me. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he walked toward the bedroom. He continued kissing me as he sank to his knees on the edge of the bed, managing to make it up far enough to lay me back on the pillows. He hovered above me on his elbows, fingertips in my hair as he kissed gently on my forehead, my nose, then my lips. He stared down at me for a moment, his eyes full of emotion, “I just want you to know that…with you…this does mean something to me.” I could feel my heart beating out of my chest from his admission. I kissed him back, deeply, before mummering a quiet “I know” against his plump bottom lip. 

He gave me a soft smile, then sat up on his knees, his hands gently rubbing and massaging down my torso as he moved. His eyes followed their path, taking in every inch of my flesh. Seeing him like this, completely bare before me as he began stroking himself between my thighs, was easily the most erotic sight I had ever laid eyes on. His shoulders somehow looked broader from this angle, the muscles in his chest and arm flexed as he slowly slid his hand up and down his length. His messy curls were now hanging down over his lustful gaze, adding to his sexiness.

The way he looked at me was nothing short of obscene as he reached to rub at my inner thigh with his free hand, gently grazing his fingertips down to my ankle, then lifting my foot to rest on his shoulder. His hand continued to rub from the tips of my toes down my calf as he nuzzled his cheek against the inside of my foot. The softness of his touch juxtaposed with the scratchiness of his beard in such a sensitive spot caused a surge of electricity to course through my veins. 

My cunt was suddenly aching to be touched. I couldn’t wait any longer. I surprised myself when my right hand found its way down to my folds to rub at the small bundle of nerves. My fingers briefly dipped down to collect some of the slick to smear around before continuing in my endeavor. My left hand moved to squeeze my breast. I was already feeling that familiar tingling sensation again with very little effort. Something about Dieter made me feel brazen and uninhibited unlike ever before. I never felt safe enough to be like this with Alec. I never felt any of this with Alec. 

Dieter’s teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he watched me arch into my hands. His eyes flicking up from the apex of my thighs to meet my gaze ever so often to watch me, watching him. Neither of us said a word, our connection allowing us to silently communicate our feelings and needs as we shared this moment of mutual self-pleasure. 

His hand moved to caress my ankle, his thumb pressing THAT spot again just below the ankle bone, causing jolts of pleasure to shoot through me. He tucked his chin, opening his mouth to graze his teeth against the spot his thumb had just vacated, causing a new prickling sensation to creep up to my aching core. I whimpered quietly at the feeling, his gaze meeting mine as he began to gently suck the area. His eyes shifted down to my center, now watching my fingers at work. I watched as his head dipped further, spit dripping from his mouth onto his cock as he continued to leisurely stroke himself, his thumb swiping over the sensitive tip as he moved. Something about his actions made me feel feral. It wasn’t a want anymore. I needed him. 

Dieter must have sensed my growing need, suddenly lowering my leg and sliding his large hands around my hips. With a firm grip, he lifted them up off the mattress and notched himself at my entrance. I watched our reflections in the mirrored ceiling as he slowly sank in, stretching me around his length. The sight and feeling of him forced incoherent sounds from my lips. He let out a loud hiss through his teeth as he sunk in to the hilt. His eyes fluttered shut as his jaw went slack, his head briefly dropping back in ecstasy. The position he put me in had opened my hips up in a way they never had been during sex, allowing him in deeper, eliciting a pleasure I had never felt.

He leaned forward slightly, tucking one arm around my lower back, causing it to arch further, increasing the friction of his movements against my center. He set a steady rhythm, rolling his hips and thrusting upward in a way that hit all the right spots perfectly. His free hand slid up my abdomen to knead my breast and roll my nipples between his fingertips causing my skin to pebble all over. He let out a quiet moan at the way my body responded to his touch. I soon found myself fisting the sheets and coming undone again before he had even broken out into a sweat.

A satisfied smile slid across his face as I clenched down around him and groaned loudly with my release, “That’s it sweetheart, let it go.” His breathy voice was deeper and more husky than I had ever heard it. It was so fucking sexy. I wanted to tell him to stop calling me sweetheart, but deep down, it was only stoking the flames further. I think he knew it too, which is why he kept saying it.  

He gently lowered my hips to the bed while I tried to catch my breath. He shifted to hover above me on his elbows, somehow managing to leave us joined through it all. His fingers worked to brush away the stray hairs that were sticking to my sweaty face, his lips trailing behind them. I caught his mouth with mine, kissing him deeply as my hands wandered over his body. He began moving again, tucking his knees under my thighs to slightly elevate my hips. I arched up into him as he hit just the right spot deep inside of me. The way he moved was causing the base of his cock to rub against my clit in a way that was already making my whole body quiver and shake toward another release as my legs tightened around his hips. One of his arms slid underneath my lower back, holding me snugly against his chest, further increasing the friction as he continued to massage my tongue with his. 

All of his movements seemed to be calculated. Every touch and every angle were done with a single purpose - to give pleasure, not take it. He knew exactly what I needed and how to get me there. I didn’t have to tell him, because he was reading the cues. He was working my body in ways I never thought possible and satisfying every craving that I ever had that had gone unfulfilled. Yet, he was awakening a primal hunger that I didn’t think would ever be satiated.  

He began to quicken the pace of his thrusts, which finally sent both of us over the edge together. The room filled with sounds of our heavy breathing and loud moans as he finally spilled into me.  Our eyes remained locked on each other through our releases. It was intimate and unexpected, making my heart skip a few beats. He wasn’t afraid to show the vulnerable side of himself as he lost control - not holding back any of his soft whimpers. I found myself wanting to see it again and again. 

Dieter nearly collapsed on top of me, burying his face in my neck as he worked to catch his breath. My fingers instinctively combed through his messy curls as I did the same. Eventually, he moved to kiss me again, nibbling on my chin as he pulled out with a groan to lay at my side. He was quiet for a few minutes, now seeming unsure of himself as he finally spoke up, “Do you want me to leave now?” His words came out almost in a whisper, sounding sad, like it was inevitable. He didn’t look my way, instead he stared toward the doorway as he waited for my response. I could see his expression in the mirrored ceiling. He looked sad, like he was fighting back his emotions.

I could feel my brows pinching together, confused by his sudden change in demeanor. “Why would I want you to leave?” I asked. 

His lips set into a tight line as he shrugged, “Because people usually don’t want me to stay…after.” 

I shifted to lay on my side so that I was facing him. I placed my hand under his chin, turning his head so he was looking at me, “I never want you to leave me after…”

He stared up at me with his sad puppy eyes before turning his body to face mine, burying his face in my side and hugging my thighs against his chest. “Is this ok?” he asked against my bare skin. My fingers moved back to strum through his hair, “Of course it is. It always will be.”  

I suddenly felt sad for him, wondering what had happened in his life that would make him ask those questions. I had the overwhelming urge to shower him in affection. I had a feeling he hadn’t gotten a lot of that, in recent years at least. Then again, I hadn’t really had that either.

I felt his hand rub up and down the back of my thigh, his head suddenly popped up to look at me, “Did you still wanna soak in the tub? I know the last few days have been tough on you. I don’t want you to be sore or anything. I can get it ready for you…if you want?” 

I glanced at the clock, it was almost 11:30 PM. “I dunno, it’s getting late.” 

Dieter kissed my hip, “If you wanna sleep in, I’ll go grab us some breakfast in the morning.”

I smiled, “You’re making that really hard to turn down, Bravo.”  

He was massaging my hip now, with a small smile on his lips. It felt amazing. 

“I wanna take care of you. Gotta keep these hips in working order,” he leaned down and kissed where he had just been rubbing as his hand slid down to grip my ass cheek. 

He’s definitely an ass man. I laughed, “Ok, fine. You win, but only if you join me.” 

He smiled against my skin, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

I stretched out on the bed, watching as he moved around the room to prepare the bath, still completely naked and confident. As he waited for it to fill, he gathered towels from the bathroom then added salts to the water, occasionally checking the temperature. Once it was halfway full, he stepped in and sat down, “Oooh fuck, this might be too hot.” 

I laughed, “That means it’s perfect then.”

He shook his head, muttering out, “Nope. Nope. Nope.”  Then he moved to adjust the temperature of the running water.

Once he settled against the backrest, I got up to join him, piling my hair up into a messy bun along the way. He spread his legs wide so I could sit between his thighs and lean against his chest. I scoffed, “Nope. It could be warmer.” I sat up to adjust the temperature again while he laughed. We were quiet until the tub was full. I reached to shut off the water then got comfortable against him. His thumbs moved to massage into my neck, then down the back side of my shoulders. After several minutes, the rest of his fingers joined in, digging into the top muscles. His motions elicited a quiet moan from me as my head dropped back to his chest. His fingers made their way to the front side, massaging around the base of my neck, then moved down the sides of my arms. 

My eyes drifted closed, “Mmm, I wasn’t aware that a massage was part of this.”

Dieter’s lips brushed against my ear, “I told you, I wanna take care of you. That position I had you in can do a number on your neck and back.”

I sighed, “I’m not really sure what to do with this. I’m not used to aftercare.” 

He scoffed, “That shouldn’t surprise me. I hope he was at least a decent lay.” 

I laughed, “No. He wasn’t. He fucking sucked. I usually had to take care of things myself. He was a very selfish lover. Always wanting and taking. Half the time I just felt like his plaything to be used as he saw fit, then discarded when he was done. He typically didn’t stick around after either.” 

Dieter nuzzled into my neck, “That’s a terrible feeling that I know all too well. I promise, I’ll never do that to you.” 

I turned so that I could see his face, “I’ll never do it to you either…People would really ask you to leave after?”

He pursed his lips in thought, “Yeah, I mean…it was just hookups. It was never meant to be more than that. Either they asked me to leave, or they would leave without a word. It was better in a lot of ways…didn’t have to go through the awkward morning after thing. It’s just sort of what I’ve come to expect I guess.” 

I turned away, now staring at the water, “Why did you do it?”

He sighed, squirming under me a little, “Ummm, that’s more complicated. Most of the time I was so coked out I’m not even sure if I knew what I was doing. Other times, it was an escape…to feel something else and nothing else at the same time…but there was never any connection there. It was just about forgetting my problems and having a fun time.” 

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, suddenly worried that’s all this was to him. An escape. He must have sensed it because his arms tightened around me as he leaned his cheek against mine, “It’s not like that with you. Don’t worry. I told you…this means something to me. You’re making me feel things I didn’t know possible…want things I’ve never wanted because I was too afraid.” 

His voice wavered, which took me by surprise. I turned to face him again, searching his sad eyes. “What were you afraid of?” I asked.

He reached to entwine his fingers with mine on his chest, his eyes turning glassy as he stared at them, “In simple terms…rejection, abandonment, pain, loss. I didn’t feel like I was worthy of being loved. There’s a lot to unpack there, and I don’t wanna do that tonight. I just wanna be with you.” 

I smiled, releasing his hand and reaching to pull his face toward mine so I could look at him. We took each other in for a moment before he leaned down and captured my lips with his. I shifted to straddle his thighs as his arms snaked around me. We spent some time making out as our hands explored each other. It never progressed beyond that. I couldn’t remember the last time I had an intimate moment like this that didn’t turn sexual. It was actually kind of nice just being together. When we finally broke apart, Dieter buried his face in my chest, and hugged me tightly. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, my fingers instinctively going to his fluffy curls. He sighed contentedly, “I can’t believe this is happening right now.” 

I chuckled, “I honestly can’t either…”

“You fought a good fight. I wasn’t sure if you were gonna give in or not,” he mumbled out against my neck.

I scoffed, “Excuse me? You didn’t know I was into you.” 

I felt his rumbling laugh, “Oh I one hundred percent did.” 

I tugged his hair to lean his head back so I could look at him, “Since when?”

He shrugged, “Since last week for sure.”

My head shook from side to side in disbelief, “And here I thought I was doing a good job at hiding it.” 

He laughed, “Maybe for a little while, but no, not recently…I think the water is getting cold.”

I puffed air out of my cheeks, “Yeah it is.”

I slid back off his thighs, then he moved to stand and grab a towel. After helping me to my feet, he began drying me off. Once he was satisfied, he tucked the towel in around my torso, then gave my ass a squeeze as I stepped out of the tub. I squealed, reaching for his towel, then turned to return the favor of getting him dry. 

As I rubbed the towel over his chest, I suddenly felt shy as I asked, “Are you gonna stay with me tonight?”

He smirked, “If you want me to…I mean, I was kinda planning on it…” 

Relief flooded through me. I couldn’t meet his eyes as I spoke, “Good. I wasn’t sure…”

His fingers found their way to my chin and lifted it upward so that I was looking at him, “I’m gonna be wherever you are until you tell me to fuck off.” I couldn’t help laughing. He always had a way with words. 

We didn’t even bother to get dressed before snuggling into bed, tangling our limbs together and making out like a couple of teenagers. I wanted to feel all of him as I drifted off to sleep and I made sure he knew it. He didn’t hesitate to wrap himself around me once we finally settled down. It was the best night’s sleep I had had in a very long time, and I knew it was because of him. 

Next: Week 5 (Part 4)

A/N: Are you all screaming right now? I'm screaming because FINALLY! Took them long enough, right? Could that build up have been any slower? Dieter was taking a chance when he asked to keep going...it was a rather delicate dance on his part. We will hear from him in Part 4, which I currently have no ETA on as I haven't started it yet. (I know, I'm SORRY!)

Poor Kat just couldn't catch a break in this chapter. Just when she was finally going to do something about her little ache, Dieter had to ruin it. He was literally driving her crazy in every way possible. 🤭

What do you think about Dieter's song choices? Was he trying to make a statement?

Can we talk about how much he wants to take care of her (and honestly enjoys it)? He's too damn cute.

Also, can we talk about the sex? Do you think he's about to give Kat some new experiences? If so, how open do you think she'll be to them?

We got some small revelations about Dieter's past. What are your thoughts on that? We have more to unpack there...

✨This chapter's video is a little different. It was made by two of the dance professionals from DWTS (who are married in real life). I love watching these two dance together because their chemistry is off the charts. They are dancing to the same song that Dieter and Kat will be dancing the Rumba too. Honestly, I think their version is better than the one from the actual music video. Give it a watch and enjoy!

Click HERE for the video.

✨THE LIFTS: I’ve included gifs for reference on the lifts. The first two gifs go together. I had to split them because tumblr has a ridiculous size limit.😒

CP Taglist: @titlee78 @legendary-pink-dot  @survivingandenduring @wannab-urs  @harriedandharassed

@hisandsnakes  @misstokyo7love @readingiskeepingmegoing  @runningmom94  @sin-djarin

@cakipy-blog  @missladym1981  @guelyury  @weho2kcmo  @alokaerza  

@girlofchaos  @trulybetty  @rhoorl  @bitchwitch1981  @madnessofadaydreamer

@darkheartgatita  @jazzloveslatte  @timpletance  @musings-of-a-rose  @samiamproductions

@myloveistoolittle  @for-a-longlongtime   @copperhalfcent  @auteurdelabre @drewharrisonwriter

@burntheedges  @stevie75  @bunniboo0015  @quicax3  @jackie923

@sherala007  @pastelnap  @angelofsmalldeath-codeine  @jessthebaker  @rebel-held

@gwendibleywrites  @senorabond  @annalovesflorida  @sandaltoesocks  @katw474

@txlady37 @inkmonster21 @sunnytuliptime @jeewrites @fifitheragertot

@pasc4lfuzz @toomanystoriessolittletime @pedrostories @dieterbravobrainrotclub

[whatsnewalycat]

Psychomanteum / Chapter 17

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x OFC Louella (2nd POV)

Chapter 17: I'll Be Your Mirror

Chapter Summary: Fin.

Word Count: 6.0k+

Content / Warnings: listen if you made it this far you know what it is

Notes: Chapter title from “I'll Be Your Mirror" by Nico and The Velvet Underground. Ok I know I said there would be an Epilogue, but I decided... I really love it as is. This story is my baby and the feeling of finishing it is so bittersweet. Thank you to everyone who has ever given me the encouragement to feel this story is special. There are so many of you, I don't even know where to start. You know who you are.

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“Dee?”

He looks up from the notebook in his hand and goes still. 

To say that your heart skips a beat when he meets your gaze is an understatement. 

It freezes, along with everything else in the universe. You can’t move. You can’t breathe. You’re almost certain the Earth stops turning. 

Is he angry? Relieved? Shocked? 

You can’t tell. 

But then his tensed muscles go slack. His hunched shoulders drop from his ears. Glossy, pained eyes melting wide into wonderment. 

“Lua?” 

Hearing your name on his lips makes your stomach flip into free fall. Your pulse jumps. A sound escapes your chest that’s halfway between a sob and a laugh.

He drops the notebook and strides towards you.

You can only take one step forward before he’s pushing your back to the door, lips pressed against yours. His hands slip around your waist and pull your body flush to his while you comb your fingers through his hair. He groans into your mouth, tongue rolling soft on yours as you whine at how fucking perfect it feels. 

Unzipping your jacket, Dieter pulls back and rasps hot against your cheek, “I’m so glad you’re ok, I thought I fucking lost you.” 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, pressing your foreheads together as he strips off your jacket, “It was stupid, I shouldn’t have left like that—”

“Later,” he murmurs, shrugging off his fuzzy coat, then brings his mouth to your pulse and sucks the thin skin so hard you gasp, gripping his broad shoulders to bring him closer. 

His hands slip under your shirt—his shirt, actually, you stole it from a laundry basket before leaving his house—and he slides his heated palms against your bare skin. With a chuckle, he looks down at the garment and says, “You little thief.” 

You bite your lip and shrug, flicking your eyes around his face. 

“God, I missed you,” he grins, dimples and all.

“I missed you, too.”

Both your faces fade from amusement to something heavier as you study each other. Heat flickers at the middle of you when he brushes the back of his hand against your cheek. Your gaze dips to his mouth when he murmurs, “Don’t you dare leave me again.”

“I won’t—”

“Please.”

“I promise I won’t.” 

You meet his eyes so he can see how much you mean it, stroking the soft whiskers on his jawline with your thumb, “I love you, Dieter. I love you so fucking much.” 

His warm gaze flicks all over your face, “I love you, too.” 

Your throat thickens. You try to swallow down the discomfort before asking, “Are you mad?” 

“Mad?” 

You nod.

“No,” he scoffs, gently taking your hand to kiss each of your fingertips. 

It’s reverent, the way he does this. Worshipful. Like he’s thanking every piece of you for existing. 

He clears his throat. Pain creases his forehead, making his dark eyes go all gooey soft when he whispers, “I was so scared. I didn’t know if I’d find you dead or alive.”

It hits you hard. Right in the heart. 

You let out a guilty squeak. Your face crumbles. Tears cloud your vision, distorting him. You draw a shattered breath before responding. 

“I was going to do it. I was going to, umm,” you avert your eyes and shake your head, “I was gonna drown myself, Dee. I had everything ready, but… I couldn’t.”

A sob bursts from your belly. 

His body tenses and he pulls back ever so slightly, as if he were seconds away from calling off the conversation. But you stay firmly planted. You link your hands behind his neck and meet his tear-brimmed eyes with your own. When you speak, your voice trembles with honesty. 

“I thought that I was supposed to die. That my being here was a mistake, or like I was cursed or something. Destined to destroy your life if I stayed in it. I didn’t want to do that to you. But also,” you swallow hard and search his face, “I didn’t know if I could trust you not to break me like he did. I didn’t know if I could trust myself not to break you, either. I was so afraid… of everything. Of all the possibilities. Of not knowing what would happen.” 

The way he looks at you—shoulders slumped, jaw set, eyes all dewy with sorrow—it’s fucking torture. But you continue. 

“I was so afraid of everything… except dying. Dying felt like the best option.” 

Dieter sobs. It crushes your ribcage to dust. You have to keep going, though. You need him to understand that you mean this. 

“But I realized—just now, before you got here, like,” you laugh with bemusement and shake your head, “Immediately before you got here, your timing is truly blowing my fucking mind right now—”

He chuckles and wipes at his damp face. You smile, tilting your head at him. 

“I realized that… I was being a fucking coward. You’re not Ethan and I’m not Anika, and you and I… we’re something different. Dee, our love feels big the way the universe feels big. It’s never-ending and always growing and it is fucking forever. To turn my back on something like that would be… well, it would be fucking blasphemy.”

He smiles back at you, grip digging into your waist to bring you closer. 

You cup his cheeks and tell him, “There will be good days and bad, but I know that I will never regret choosing to stay.”

He stares at you with so much love and awe your chest aches. You can’t stop yourself from beaming at him. 

“No matter what the future has in store for us, I know that it will be worth spending every second I can with you in this beautiful, painful, amazing life.” 

His smile widens and he shakes his head, choking out, “Fuck, how do I follow that up?” 

You laugh, this soggy, wet laugh and bury your face in his shirt, then mumble against his chest, “You don’t have to, love, I just needed to tell you.” 

“Thank you,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around you. 

“For what?”

“For staying. For sharing with me, trusting in me—trusting in us. Without you… I don’t know. Everything is fucking stupid and meaningless. You make me a better me. And I need you. So. Thank you.” 

Your heart swells. 

“You make me a better me, too.” 

He pulls back to look at you, the warmth of his gaze sticking all over your face. Heat glints behind his eyes when they drop to your mouth. 

Something profound throbs between you. Newborn with shaky legs, taking its first breath. Intentional, fearless certainty. 

You kiss him, hard and purposeful, and he responds with fervor, the tips of his fingers digging into the tender skin of your waist. His tongue slides soft and wet and hot against yours, a slick writhing that hypnotizes you. Between the gentle crush of lips and nips from teeth and quiet whimpers that echo back and forth, you get lost in him. 

Time and space slip away and this kiss becomes the only thing you long to feel.

Dieter pushes your back flush to the cool door, warm hands exploring the tender skin beneath your shirt. His shirt. His skin. 

His his his—

He cups your breasts, the pads of his thumbs brushing over your nipples. The tedious touch sends a rush of need through your body. Whining into his mouth, you slide your nails down the expanse of his back, beckoning him closer, wordlessly begging for more. 

Of course, he gives it to you. 

Of course he pinches your nipples so hard you gasp, then tugs even harder. 

Of course he activates something primal deep within your brain, making you hiss, “Fuck yes.” 

“Does that feel good, baby? Hmm?”

“Yes—”

“Good,” he husks.

One hand unclamps. It slips under the waistband of your pants and slides down between your thighs, down to the hot, slick middle of you, where it rubs all those attention-starved nerves and makes them fucking purr. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. 

“Mmmm, how about that?” 

“So fucking good, Dee,” you moan, nodding your head in vehement approval as you arch your hips towards him, “Oh my god, yes.” 

Pulsing heat creeps up your spine, making your mouth go slack and lids drift closed. 

“Look at me.” 

Your eyes snap open to meet his. He searches your face with intensity, watching you twist up with pleasure, and drops his gaze to your lips when your panting becomes tainted with whimpers. 

“You’re so fucking hot I can’t stand it,” he mutters, shaking his head, “God, I wanna fuck you.” 

“Oh my god, please—”

“You want me to fuck you?” He releases his tight grip on your tit to stroke your cheek, his low voice almost a growl, “Hmm? Want me to fill your tight pussy?” 

“Yes—”

“Yeah?”

“Yes yes yes please, I wanna feel your cock inside me, Dieter I fucking need it please—”

“I want you to come for me first,” he works you faster, pressing his forehead against yours as he coos, “Can you do that for me, baby? Come all over my fucking hand?”

His request gushes hot down your spine. You gasp and nod frantically, then choke out a throaty moan as heat starts to branch out inside you. Your heart pounds hard and fast in your chest, white-hot need overflowing your veins and pooling thick between your legs, pulsing and growing, stronger, wider, pushing you up up up up—

It overtakes you. Rips you into a million pieces and puts you back together again. 

Your legs clamp shut. You twitch and whimper and gasp as his touch softens and slows. 

It doesn’t stop entirely, though. 

Just a gentle, languid back and forth that persists through ebbing aftershocks, assuring you he’s not done with you yet. 

Dieter rests his forehead against yours, breath warm on your parted lips when he says, “You’re fucking amazing, you know that?”

You let out a dreamy chuckle, hooking your hands behind his neck.

And, fuck, his fingers feel so good. Sliding up and down, spreading your slick in a gentle manner, teasing but patient. So fucking patient. 

“I mean it. You are… amazing. I love every single thing about you.” 

He dips a thick fingertip in your entrance, sending a heady rush of need through your body, then drags it out to draw slow circles around your clit. His touch prods the glowing embers in your belly. They smolder beneath your skin and make your heart race. 

“Oh my god, Dee—”

“Even the parts you don’t think I want. I want it all, Lua. Forever. I never want to wake up without you by my side again.”

“I’m yours,” you breathe, “Forever and ever until I’m nothing, Dee, I’m fucking yours—”

His lips crush into yours. You moan into his mouth, accepting the warm caress of his tongue, urgent against yours. Between your thighs, he rocks his hand against you hard, then slips a digit inside you. 

Head rolling back onto your shoulders, you gasp, “Jesus fuck.”

“So fucking ready for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?” he laughs, delirious and breathy, then takes a step back, removing himself from your body completely. 

The loss sends you reeling. Like a puppy, you glob onto him, not wanting to part from him for a second. 

Regarding your desperation with a smirk, he takes your hand, “Come on.” 

You follow along behind him, grinning at the way he carries himself with authority, striding through the cabin like this has been his residence for the past few days, not yours. 

When you cross the threshold into a bedroom, he turns to ask, “This one ok?”

Nodding, you push him back towards the bed and tug at his clothes, a silent plea he quickly grants. You mirror his actions, stripping down to nothing as he sits down on the edge of the bed and stares up at you, all fuck-me-eyes and parted lips. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” you coo, slotting yourself between his knees, combing your nails through his hair, “Looking up at me with those puppy dog eyes. I love it.” 

His eyelids flutter and his cock twitches. A little bead of pre-cum sprouts up at the tip. 

You lick your lips and smirk, wrapping your hand around his girth, gasping when you smear the swollen droplet with the pad of your thumb. 

Dieter groans, grabbing your waist. He twitches again. 

You pull back his foreskin, forming an ‘o’ with your mouth when more of the viscous liquid slips against your thumb. 

You think about how it might taste, salty and hot on your tongue. You think about his hard, smooth length stretching out your lips, soaking wet with drool as he fucks your face. 

“If you keep looking at it like that I’m gonna blow my fucking load,” he mutters, burying his face between your breasts. 

When you respond by churning your grip, a moan vibrates against your sternum. As if he can’t help himself, Dieter slides his hands up your body and grabs your tits. 

He takes one in his mouth, then the other, sucking and licking and biting your swollen nipples while you work him, slow and meticulous. His muffled whines stoke your desire, flames hot and tingling up your spine. 

Looking up at you with big doe eyes, he flattens his tongue against your nipple, then moves his head from side-to-side. 

“That feels fucking amazing, Dee, oh my god,” you pant, drawing your brows together as you nod in approval at the heated sensation that clings to your bones. 

Arousal urges you to pump him faster, and when you do, he husks, “Fuck, Lua—”

“Hmm?”

“Please.”

The tips of his fingers dig into your waist and he scoots further back onto the bed, ushering you onto his lap, “Wanna feel that sweet pussy wrapped around me, please, baby, please.”

Your knees settle on either side of his hips and you fold forward, smoothing your hands up his broad chest, to his neck, then you cup his cheeks. He searches your face, wild-eyed and desperate. 

“I love seeing you like this,” you purr, brushing your thumb against his bottom lip, “So fucking needy.”

He groans and his hips jerk, the tip of him nudging up against your entrance. You tease him with it, letting him feel how hot and wet you are without allowing access. 

“Do you want my pussy, baby? Or do you need it?”

“I need it,” he rasps, the tendons in his neck going taut he grips your hips with bruising strength, “I’ll fucking die if I don’t feel it, I swear to god, please—”

You lower yourself down slowly, whimpering at the exquisite stretch that reverberates through you. 

His back arches off the mattress and he groans, “Fffffuck yes. Holy fucking shit, Lua—”

“So fucking good, oh my god,” you croak, rolling your hips.  

You take him slow at first, savoring the way he fills you so perfectly, how he rubs along every tingling nerve inside you. Beneath you, Dieter pants and writhes, devout hands roaming your humid skin, worshiping you.

“Jesus fucking Christ, I love you,” he pants, thrusting up into you so hard and deep you moan. He lets out a gasping chuckle, then drives his hips up again, and again, and again.

You nod in approval. Thick static bubbles at your center. You press your forehead against his, pushing back against his thrusts as they establish a steady rhythm. 

“Wanna spend the rest of my life with you.” 

“Wanna spend—fuck,” you whimper, nodding again, “Wanna the rest of my life with you.” 

“Wanna marry you, make you my wife—”

Still nodding, you choke out, “Yes, oh my fucking god yes—”

“Would you like that? Hmm? Get you a pretty dress and a ring? Show the whole world that I’m yours and you’re mine?”

“I want it, Dee, I do. I’m yours I’m yours I’m yours—“

He captures your lips and pounds into you, hard and fast, exchanging moans with you like vows, vibrating on your tongue as the tingling heat in your belly stretches wider, climbing up your body, swelling and swelling, pulling your muscles tight, until you find yourself suspended in a moment you both never want to end and don’t think you can stand any longer. 

Then, it bursts. 

You sob when the wave of pleasure washes over and under you, making this sick wet sucking noise as your whole body convulses around him. 

Dieter whines against your mouth, fucking up into your fluttering cunt with crazed, frantic thrusts. He goes rigid and silent for a second, then releases a guttural noise from his chest. 

When his breath returns to him and his muscles start to slacken, you meet his eyes with a grin that spreads to his lips. 

You kiss him, slow and deep, then go limp on his chest, “I love you.” 

“I love you.”

The two of you stay here for a while, content and rubber-limbed. His fingertips trace the scar tissue on your shoulder and arm while sand gathers heavy on your eyelids. 

“I haven’t been able to sleep,” you mumble into the damp crook of his neck, “Not sober, at least. Now you’re here and we have so much to talk about.” You yawn, “And I’m so tired.”  

He kisses the crown of your head, then gently persuades you to roll off him onto the mattress. Like a sleepy child, helplessly lethargic and too engrossed in comfort to do it yourself, you let him pull the bedspread out from beneath you and tuck you between the sheets. 

The warmth of his skin presses up against yours as he drapes an arm over your belly and tugs you close. When he speaks, his breath is warm on your cheek, voice low and quiet. 

“Get some rest, love. We can talk more tomorrow.” 

His offer is tempting, but one question nags at the back of your brain and gives you a small burst of energy. 

You roll onto towards him, blinking your weighted eyes open to meet his, all gooey and soft as they search your face. 

“Did you mean it?” 

A mischievous smirk plays on his lips, “What, that I wanna marry you?” 

You nod. 

“Yeah,” he grins and grabs your hand to kiss your palm, then holds it to his cheek, “What about you? Did you mean it? Do you wanna marry me?”

For some reason, your cheeks get hot and you laugh. The noise is water-logged, struggling against the tears that burn up your throat and blur your vision.

“Yeah, I really fucking do.” 

These aren’t the kinds of tears you’re used to crying. They’re celebratory. Joyous. You find yourself unable to stop smiling through them. 

“This is crazy,” you tell him, shaking your head, “I love you so much it’s fucking crazy.” 

“I love you,” he smiles and brings your hand to his chest, pressing your palm against the thump-thump of life and light and love, “Do you feel that?”

“Your heart?”

He nods, “That’s yours. ‘Til my last breath, then after. It’s yours.” 

—

Dieter listens to the peaceful dozing huffs that blow hot across his chest, cherishing each and every one. 

He savors the heat of your body on his, the blood pumping through your veins, and the flutter of REM behind your closed eyelids. Proof that you are here, alive and safe in his arms. An answer to his desperate prayers. 

Something like relief but bigger engulfs him. 

Warmth tingles through his limbs and tears sting behind his eyes. His throat gets all thick with emotion as he pulls your pliant body closer, pressing a kiss against your forehead. 

Careful not to be too loud, he whispers, “Thank you.” 

He’s not sure who he’s thanking. You or fate or whatever omnipresent puppeteer pulls the strings behind the scenes. He just knows he means it with his whole heart. 

Dieter lays here for some time, live-wired with optimism, thinking up a million ways to convey the intensity of his gratitude. His mind wanders into tomorrow and buzzes with anticipation. He gets to tell you about his impromptu trip to New York, and that your charges are dropped. 

Goosebumps prick his skin as a realization dawns on him. 

You don’t even know. 

When deciding to stay, you factored in the consequences of these charges. Your devotion to him was not because of this resolution, but in spite of it. 

You had every single reason to doubt this would work. Probable prison time. Shrapnel from the fame machine. Ongoing recovery. The ugly demise of his marriage. The tragic end to yours.

Fuck, it’s a shit show. 

And yet, here you are. 

He gazes down at you, far away in dreamland, cheek pressed against the rise and fall of his chest. All angel-faced, but with a little drool at the corner of your mouth. Fucking beautiful. 

On one hand, he could stay here watching you sleep like a fucking stalker for hours. On the other, his stomach growls for attention. 

When he contemplates whether or not to untangle himself from you and tend to this need, you let out a little grumble, then start wiggling around, rolling away from him. He misses the heat of your body as soon as it’s gone, but lets you go anyway. 

He carefully gets out of bed and wanders through the dark cabin into the kitchen. 

The cupboards are essentially barren, which is both disappointing and unsurprising, but he finds some bread and drops a couple slices into the toaster. While guzzling down a tall glass of iron-flavored water, he notices piles of towels and blankets stacked on the kitchen counter. This piques his curiosity. 

To put it lightly, you are an incredibly neat and tidy person. Normally you wouldn’t allow this kind of disorder in your living space, however temporary. He should know. Last week you pulled the clothes out of his dresser and gave him a tutorial on how to fold “the right way” before organizing the acrylic paints in his studio by hue. 

Your need for order only increases when you’re distressed, which you definitely were, so… what the fuck is up with this? 

When he rounds the countertop peninsula to investigate, something catches his eye. Big slabs of wood propped up next to a door in the hallway. The door sits ajar, the crack emitting a warm golden glow. 

His footsteps creak across the wooden floor as he approaches it. Somehow he knows what he’ll find when he opens the door, and releases an amused chuckle when his suspicions are confirmed. 

Dark fabric draping the walls. A dimmed-down lantern propped up behind a makeshift seat. The seat, a makeshift nest of pillows and blankets, faces a mirror. 

You built a psychomanteum. 

Something tugs at his memory, causing him to turn on his heel and walk towards the couch. He picks up the notebook he discarded when you walked through the door and revealed yourself. 

He studies the page in abstract, catching little glimpses here and there. Words like unrecognizable and hopeless and monster. Fragments like swerving around traffic, and crying, begging.

Some sentences stand out so much, he can’t help but snag on them. 

It was over, I couldn’t do it anymore.

He called me a bitch. A rat.

It didn’t seem real.

He said we had to do this together.

Far away, the toaster pops. He’s not even hungry anymore. In fact, quite the opposite. He feels fucking sick. 

A smattering of circles distort in the paper, black ink bleeding out from your script as if diffused by tiny droplets of moisture. Probably tears. 

Grotesque curiosity churns beneath his skin. 

He swallows around his thick throat and looks up at the closet. The psychomanteum. 

The first time he tried to read the passage, before he knew you were ok, he was in such a state of panic that he didn’t fully understand what it was. But he understands now. He sees the pieces and how they fit together. 

His stomach twists when he recognizes the pattern laid out before him. His ribcage shrinks two sizes, pushing his pulse to his ears. He runs a hand through his hair and wrings his tight neck as he realizes with horror that he has been a similar kind of monster. 

He knows he had a problem. And it wasn’t as much the drugs or infidelity as it was the emptiness. An infection that set in early and rotted out a cavity in his chest. In his heart. 

He knows it made him change in unspeakable ways, altering the very nature of his character. It made him angry and reckless and fucking ravenous. Starving for anything that would fill him up, however fleeting. 

He was a fucking beast. 

He also knows you love him. Flaws and all, you love him. You had the grace to forgive every unforgivable mistake he made. 

Could Dieter do the same? 

He tosses the notebook down on the coffee table and walks to the closet, opening the door. As he steps inside, he takes the lantern from behind the seat and turns to face him in the mirror. 

He studies the face, recognizing the distinct nose and dark eyes. Mop of messy brown curls atop his head. He looks tired, but hopeful. 

Staring at his reflection, Dieter tells himself, “I forgive you.” 

—

The first thing you notice when you rouse from sleep is the warmth that surrounds you. 

You feel Dieter’s chest flush to your back, arms wrapped around your middle, face buried in the crook of your neck. Your combined body heat under the covers makes your skin stick together. The steady rhythm of his breathing moves in time with yours. 

Before you even open your eyes, you smile. 

Your fingertips twitch against his arm and you try to wiggle even closer, intertwining your legs with his. 

Behind you, Dieter stirs a little, then mumbles into your neck, “G’morning, doll.” 

“Good morning, love.” 

He takes a deep breath in, squeezing you tight, and exhales a groan, “You smell so fucking good what the fuck.”

“I haven’t bathed in days,” you giggle, reaching back to run your fingers through his hair, “I’m stinky.” 

“Bullshit.” 

“You’re bullshit.” 

He laughs this big, boisterous laugh as he rolls onto his back, separating from you save for the arm pinned under your side. 

You miss his heat immediately and turn over to face him, scooting close enough to feel it. His gaze holds pure adoration. Your fingertips meet his and play this sort of dance before he laces your hands together. 

He asks, “Wanna take a bath then go get some grub?” 

—

Dieter lathers up a washcloth, watching the muscles shift beneath your skin as you rinse the remaining conditioner from your hair with a shower head attachment.

When you turn it off, you glance over your shoulder at him and announce, “I’m probably going to prison.” 

He sits up and presses the steaming washcloth to your back, working suds up the curve of your spine. 

“You’re not going to prison.” 

You relax into his touch and snort, “Oh yeah? How’s that?”

“I took care of it.”

“Wha—wait,” you sit up, then turn around to face him, water sloshing around with you. You furrow your brow and stare at him, “What does that mean?”

“It means the DA dropped the charges against you.” 

Your eyes narrow as you search his face, “Are you fucking with me?”

“I’m dead serious.” 

“How?” 

His tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth as he averts his gaze, shrugging, “Let’s just say that, for plausible deniability reasons, it’s best you don’t know anything else.” 

“You’re fucking with me.”

“I’m not!” he laughs, tugging at your waist. You jokingly wrinkle your nose at his affection, but let him pull you into his lap. 

“C’man, sweetheart. Look at me.” He waits until your eyes meet his, then tells you, “I swear to god I’m not fucking with you. You’re clear. A free woman.” 

Your shoulders fall away from your ears. You clamp down on your huge smile, then it breaks free, “Really?”

The way you light up at this news… It is breathtaking. Jesus fucking Christ. Worth every second of misery. 

“Really,” he smiles, cupping your cheek. 

You try to blink away tears with a relieved burst of laughter. You stare at him, glossy eyes all ripe with admiration as they flick around his face, “Thank you.”

“Don’t sweat it,” he murmurs, holding your gaze, “I’d do anything for you, Louella. You know that?”

Your smile gets bigger somehow. You nod, “I do.”

His stomach flips when he imagines you saying those words in front of that ordained minister he saw in his near-death vision. Little details come into focus. He can taste the salt of the ocean and feel heat from the overhead sun. Light filters through a canopy of sheer white fabric. 

The crowd of onlookers is small. Of course, he sees Parker and Darlene and Lincoln. He sees Glenn, looking like a fucking dick as usual, but grinning nonetheless. He sees his brother’s family, the small children all wriggling around in their chairs. He sees a couple, a man and woman around retirement age, that he doesn’t quite recognize, but he understands that they’re Ethan’s parents. He sees his mother dab her eyes with a tissue while his father curls an arm around her shoulders, letting the faintest smile creep across his lips as he watches you slide a wedding band on Dieter’s ring finger. 

Atop your head sits a band of stars, forged from gold and adorned with dazzling crystals that glimmer in the sunlight. Corona Borealis for his Princess of Crete. Your dress is cream-colored chiffon and lace and fucking perfect. You have on that smile, the one that takes up your whole face. The one you’re wearing now. 

You take the washcloth from him and dunk it under the hot, sudsy water, then bring it to his chest. The smile on your lips lingers as you wash, lathering up his skin with tiny iridescent bubbles. 

“What does Darlene think of all this?” you ask, glancing up at him. 

Smoothing his hands around to the small of your back, he shrugs and pulls your slick body closer, “In a personal sense, supportive. She helped a lot actually. Held down the fort while I was in New York.” 

“While you were—” you scoff, shaking your head with an amused grin, “Dieter, what the fuck have you been up to?” 

“Long story, I’ll tell you on the drive home,” he grins. 

“Fine,” you snort and roll your eyes, but fold forward against his chest. His eyes drift closed as he relaxes into the heat of your body pressed to his. Fingertips sliding against his collarbone, you ask, “So the blowback to your career has been minimal?” 

He gulps when he contemplates how to answer, not wanting to scare you into a spiral that sends you running again. But it is what it is. You’ll find out sooner or later anyway. 

“Not… necessarily. It’s been pretty brutal, actually. Mark and Darlene wanted me to throw you under the bus and move on without you, but I refused. So they dropped me.” 

You prop yourself up and frown at him, “I thought you said Darlene—”

“She was helping me find you, Lua. She’s supportive of our relationship as my friend, but…”

Your eyebrow quirks, “The optics are shit?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, searching your surprisingly serene face, “It’s ok, though, you know. You were right, I don’t enjoy it anymore. Acting, I mean. I think I’ve been too scared to try anything else, but… I don’t know. I think I’m ready now. I’m ready for the next chapter of my life.” 

“You could try writing,” you offer as you trace his jawline, “I could find a job at a bakery or something. It’ll be ok. We’ll figure it out, I know we will.” 

He nods, “We will.”

“I love you, Dee,” you say, holding his gaze, “We can do fucking anything together.”

Your certainty hits him square in the chest. 

For him, love always cast a dark shadow of fear that warned him to be distant. Not too eager or enthusiastic. Careful not to be fumbled by the wrong hands and wind up broken. 

It doesn’t feel like that anymore, he thinks. 

Your presence in his life has always been big and blinding. The warmth of your love has blistered his skin more times than he can count. He has dedicated hours upon hours of his life this past year trying to understand your magnitude and longevity, trying to measure the shadow that the fear of losing you cast. The dimensions fluctuated in a non-linear sort of way, waxing and waning with the circumstances surrounding your relationship. 

But now? 

You are the sun at high noon. No fucking shadow in sight. 

—

“All set?”

“I think so,” you zip up your suitcase and look up at Dieter as he leans against the doorframe. Your stomach growls and you groan, “If we don’t get food soon—” 

“I found a Denny’s about 30 miles away. Open on Christmas.” 

“Thank fucking god.” 

Dieter chuckles and buries his hands in his coat pockets, “Oh, by the way…”

He pulls out a small, familiar sketchpad and hands it to you. Nostalgia spreads warm across your chest as you open the cover and flip through Ethan’s artwork. Each page depicts dark and painful images that tug at your heart, reminding you of how much he was suffering. 

“How did you—?”

“Part of the long story. Tell you on the way home. But, umm… I figured you should have it.” 

You nod, pausing to study a high-contrast illustration that feels different from the previous pages. At first, it just looks like a collection of bold black triangles. The edges and points are crisp. Precise. But as you stare at it, your perspective shifts. The white paper beneath the black ink starts to stand out bright, then rises above the dark hollows. 

When it comes into focus, you gasp. 

It’s a face. 

It’s your face, carved out from negative space. 

“That one’s my favorite,” Dieter tells you, “He, umm… he was really talented.” 

Through your burgeoning tears, you smile, “Yeah. He was great.” 

You tear the portrait from the sketchbook and hand it to Dieter, who asks, “What about the rest?” 

Instead of answering, you step past him and take the sketchbook to the living room, where you lower yourself down in front of the fireplace and open the grate. Dieter follows, sitting down beside you as you tear out the first page and feed it to glowing embers in the hearth. 

Flames crackle to life, burning the paper to ash. 

You give it another. 

And another. 

And another. 

When the sketchbook is just an empty shell, you toss it in. Then Dieter hands you something. You glance it over for a moment, recognizing the painful passage you wrote the night before. You give that to the fire, too. 

He takes your hand and sits there with you while the flames die and return to smolders. 

“How’d that feel?” he asks eventually. 

“Fucking perfect.” 

You turn to him, searching his face, “Thank you.” 

The corner of his mouth turns up in a smirk and he squeezes your hand, “Anytime, doll.” 

When you lean in to kiss him, his lips are soft and warm against yours. A sensation swells in your chest, this glowing kaleidoscope of patterns that shifts and twists into a million brilliant images. It feels like forever in the best way. It feels like heaven. 

He pulls back, those big ganache eyes meeting yours, “You ready?” 

“Yeah,” you nod and smile at him, “I’m ready. Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

Groaning, Dieter climbs to his feet and holds out his hand to you. You accept it, letting him help you up. Your hands stay firmly locked together as he grabs your ratty old suitcase and leads you to the door, out of the dark room and into the bright midday sun.

[tightjeansjavi]

chamomile

A/N: I was making myself a cup of tea earlier this evening and the idea blossomed from there 🥺

for @morallyinept Valentine’s Day masterlist 💗

~word count: 1.3k~

Summary: it’s Valentine’s Day and Dieter Bravo is alone and missing you

Pairing | Dieter Bravo x f!reader

Warnings: mature, fluff, angst, language,implicit smut, one mention of dieter giving himself a handjob, mentions of alcohol and ouid, fwb’s, pining, assumed one-sided feelings, two idiots in love without realizing it, typical dieter behavior, reader has no physical descriptions, readers nickname is petal, +18 minors dni!

On the long, lonely nights where Dieter Bravo is away from you, his solace, his person, he always finds himself struggling to sleep. An hour here, and an hour there, but it can never compare to the deep, dreamy, snooze he gets when you’re laying next to him, tangled up in his legs, under his sheets.

He knows deep down he’s got it bad for you. So bad, he can hardly think straight on most days. Dieter, you missed your cue, again.

He groans, pinching the bridge of his nose and shakes his shoulders to relieve any pent up stress he’s feeling and to get back on track.

Did you even read the fucking script, Bravo?

He scoffs, jaw ticking under the harsh studio lights that buzz in his ear like a swarm of angry bees. Course I did. He lies through his teeth.

How could he even think about reading his lines when he spent hours of his night staring down his phone as he deeply contemplated the pros and cons of calling you up.

If I tell her how I feel, it makes everything fucking weird.

Or you get to live out your very own rom-com!

Or she never wants to speak to me again

Or she also confesses her deep, profound love for you.

Or..she doesn’t feel the same way and breaks my fucking heart into a million tiny pieces!

Or your dreams come true, Dieter.

-

You met Dieter Bravo through a friend of a friend at one of the movie star’s infamous parties. Dieter was drunk, a bit of a stumbling mess, but when his warm, and slightly clammy palm wrapped around your own, you knew you were donefore. And how was it possible for a scruffy man such as himself to have the kindest, softest, warmest brown eyes you ever had the pleasure of gazing into?

No, you were not in love with Dieter Bravo. He was just your friend..with the occasional benefits. Nothing more, nothing less.

When Dieter finds himself alone in his too big of a house for another night, he packs a bowl, and then another, and another. He takes a relaxing bath, alone with nothing but the comfort of his own fist wrapped around his cock. His lashes flutter shut, plush lips parting as he sinks further into the chamomile scented bubbles.

You told him once that chamomile should help him sleep better. He sent his assistant out the next day to buy chamomile tea, and literally any and all the chamomile scented products that she could find.

You took a bath together once, and he vividly remembers dragging his nose across the base of your neck, inhaling the sweet aroma while you nearly dozed off in his saccharine grip. Muscles relaxed, limbs pliant under the soapy water.

But you weren’t here. You were thousands of miles away on a girls trip with some of your single friends. It was the trip that finally made it out of the group chat, and it happened to fall on the week of Valentine’s Day.

Wait, that’s today, right? Shit. How pathetic. He thinks to himself, stroking his cock faster, creating ripples in the sudsy water.

Yeah, so fucking pathetic. Alone on fucking Valentine’s Day, and higher than a goddamn kite.

He doesn’t come, and while that in itself should be frustrating, he accepts his fate of misery while the temperature of the water becomes too cold to bear and he’s forced to retreat.

He packs another bowl, yanks his leftover Taco Bell from the fridge and eats it cold, like the feeling of his heart.

His king sized bed feels even larger than usual, and he chuffs a laugh, taking another bite of his half eaten crunch wrap supreme.

That’s because I’m fucking alone on Valentine’s Day.

He knows he’s not really alone. But on a day that is all about love, he sure as hell doesn’t feel the love.

He misses the way you would roll over mid sleep and drape your arm across his bare stomach. Your fingers would play with the dark, soft hair that led down to his happy trail while you drooled into the crook of his neck, soft snores escaping past your parted lips. He found it endearing. You were like a koala, and he was the tree branch of your choosing.

He so badly wanted to be your tree branch right now.

Was that lame? Probably. But Dieter could give less of a shit about any of that. He missed you, and the feeling ate away at him, carving a hole in his chest and yanking his heart right out.

He didn’t mind that you would accidentally kick him off the side of the bed, or steal all the covers. He loved it when you would talk in your sleep, babbling about pure nonsense that somehow to his ears made perfect sense.

Okay, so he missed you…a lot. He wasn’t the only person to miss someone this much. Hell, maybe even his neighbor was going through the same feelings and emotions as he was.

Love. Yeah, that’s what he was feeling. He was in love with you, and you had no fucking idea how he truly felt.

He tossed and turned, fluffed down his pillows, scrolled on his phone, watching his favorite saved tik toks, and he even tried listening to the soothing sounds of a thunderstorm through a podcast on Spotify. None of it was working. He couldn’t sleep, and you were to blame.

That’s how Dieter Bravo found himself in his kitchen, fully exposed sans some fluffy slippers on his feet that had seen better days. He dug through his pantry till he found the familiar box of chamomile tea. He let out a sigh of relief and tore open the silver foil with his teeth.

His phone screen read 2:30a.m as the kettle on the stove whistled loudly in his eardrums.

The familiar scent of chamomile coated his senses in a warmth that could only be described as you as he let the tea bag steep in his favorite chipped mug.

His knuckles drummed along the countertop nervously as he stared down his phone once more. He let out a huff, bringing one hand to scratch at the patches in his scraggly beard.

As steam billowed from the mug next to him, he finally picked up his phone and dialed your number.

He chewed on the tip of his thumbnail, eyes dancing nervously as the dial tone rang, and rang. He was ready to hang up and toss his phone in the garbage disposal when you finally answered.

His heart skipped a beat and his weed-hazed mind couldn’t keep up with the rate that words were flowing past his lips.

“Petal? Hey, happy Valentine’s Day. Well—er, happy belated Valentine’s Day? ‘Suppose it’s already over. Uh—hope I’m not bothering you, I just couldn’t sleep, so I’m in my kitchen having a cup of chamomile tea, like you suggested. Fuck, I’m rambling, aren’t I? I smoked a few too many bowls so my brain is a bit scrambled. Anyway, I miss you, baby. I’m so lonely, and I wish you were here.”

His stoned rambling continued on as you listened silently, holding your phone close to your ear and swatting at your friend's arm when they asked who was on the phone. The club music was booming at the same rate that your heart was pounding in your chest.

“Hi, Dee. I miss you too. I've been thinking...when I get back, can we grab dinner sometime?" You warmly suggest.

His pupils are blown wide like two shiny marbles illuminated under the soft glow of the moonlight trickling in through his tall kitchen windows.

“Fuck yes. I’d fucking love to grab dinner with you sometime, Petal.” He rasps softly through the receiver.

banners made by the lovely @saradika 💗

I no longer have a taglist so please follow @tightjeansjaviupdates for fic notifications and updates!

[atinylittlepain]

Non-Disclosure Agreement

dieter bravo x publicist!reader

something unprofessional keeps them professional.

warnings | 18+ smut and nothing but(t), pegging, a little angst bc i like being sad lmao

a/n | another installment for the Peg that Middle Aged Man Campaign! In case you missed it, @beskarandblasters @wannab-urs @iamasaddie and @jksprincess10 have alllll posted delicious Pascalian pegging fics that you should go check out :) and there's still more to come, my darlings!

................................

They need this. Pressure released. Life forgotten. Whoever they are outside of this, dissolved at the door. They need this, and both of them are more than willing to provide it for the other.

It keeps him in line, just a touch more compliant, docile. And it keeps her from firing him, if not killing him, when he manages to whip up a new PR disaster for her to swoop in and fix. 

“You just gonna stare at it, or are you gonna get it ready for me?” His eyes are wide, dark brown blown out in lust as he looks up at her from where he’s sitting on the edge of her bed, hair in wild waves in only the way his could be. She had tried many times to get Dieter Bravo into an actual salon chair, but he’s always been too stubborn, too contrarian, and too goddamn paranoid to let anyone but her near “the goods.” But she doesn’t mind it right now, raking her fingers back through it, giving a sharp tug that makes him hiss.

“You know I don’t like to be kept waiting, baby. Are you gonna be good? Or am I gonna have to send you home right now with your dick still hard?” Neck arched from the grip she has in his hair, lips parted, and brow furrowed, it’s how she likes him best.

“Someone’s extra mean tonight. What? Is your husband fucking an intern again?” His eyes glint, lips just crooked in a smile, but she’s quick to wipe it away when she guides her strap into his mouth.

“That’s nice, isn’t it, brat? Give your mouth something better to do than run itself. That’s it, get it nice and wet for me, baby.” He lets out a low moan around her silicone dick, bobbing his head in an obscene rhythm, heat licking up her spine at the sight. 

They have it down to a science by now. He knows what it means when she calls him late at night, that it never has anything to do with a new script she has for him, and everything to do with expecting him at her front door in fifteen minutes, ready to be her human chew toy. And it’s always a rushed drag to tug clothes off and stumble into her bedroom. He’s learned not to ask her to come to his, she’d never go near his coked-out drug cave of a mansion.

“Look so good like this, Dieter. Always look so good when I get you to shut the fuck up for me.” Her biting words coax another groan out of him, the muffled sound getting cut off when she leans down to wrap her hand around his cock, squeezing him at the base before flicking her wrist up, thumb swiping over his leaking slit. 

“How do you want it, baby? Should I take you from behind tonight?” He pops off her strap with a lewd smack, eyes dazed and droopy as he jerkily shakes his head.

“Wanna watch you do it tonight. Wanna see your tits bounce, please.” 

“Well you know how much I like it when you say please. Lay back for me, pretty boy.” With that, he scrambles back onto the bed, legs splayed out, cock flushed and hard, resting on the sweet swell of his belly. And though she calls him it to tease, she has to admit, he really is a very pretty man. She kneels between his legs on the bed, landing a smack to the top of his thigh, eliciting a shaky huff from him.  

“Don’t be difficult, baby. You know this isn’t how I want you. Knees bent, feet flat, want you spread for me, there you go.” She can practically see his cock twitch at her words as he shifts into the position she demands, eyes glued to her as she rubs lube up and down her strap. 

“What do you say if you don’t like something and want me to stop?”

“EGOT.” 

“Good boy, gonna get you ready for me now.”

“Is that–”

“Yeah, paraben free, picked it up at Erewhon just like you requested, you spoiled brat. You gonna say thank you like a good boy?” She holds the bottle of ridiculously expensive, all natural lube aloft in her hand, flashing a smile his way as she waves it side to side. It’s his new thing, he read somewhere that parabens cause cancer and interfere with theta brainwaves, whatever the fuck that means, though it had caused problems for her last week when he refused to let her come anywhere near him with the lube she’s been quite literally using on him for months.

“Really, you should be thanking me, ok? Parabens affect us all.” That earns him another, sharper, smack to his thigh, forcing a grunt from his chest as she does.

“Fine, fine, thank you, boss. Now will you please do that thing with your fingers?” Warming a dollop of lube up between her hands, she curls over him, letting her lips barely drag along the underside of his cock, tongue flickering out over his tip before she takes him into the heat of her mouth, only a few quick passes to get him moaning before she glides a slicked-up palm down his throbbing length. 

“You think you deserve my fingers, Dieter? Really? After you showed up coked-out to that audition last week and I had to clean up your mess again?” She just barely lets her nails graze the leaking head of his cock, making him whimper under her ministrations.

“I– fuck, I’m sorry, ok? Won’t do it again, I swear, just– please, boss, need it bad.” She hums low in her throat, tilting her head at him as she gives his cock another squeeze, his moan cracking in his chest.

“Hmm, I’ll give you what you want. But there’s gonna be some conditions, ok?” She has to stifle a laugh at how rapidly he nods his head.

“If I’m gonna give you what you want, take care of you like you want, you’re gonna have to promise me that from now on, every audition I get you, you’re gonna show up sober, twenty minutes early, lines practiced, and not wearing yesterday’s clothes, you got that?” She emphasizes each point with a pass of her palm over his balls, a light squeeze that sends his eyes rolling back in his head as he frantically nods along to her words.

“Repeat it back to me, Dieter. What’re you gonna do from now on?” She keeps working his cock in her hand, his reply coming out stilted and whiny.

“Sober, e-early, fuck– lines, clean f-fucking clothes, I got it, I promise, please.” She shushes his cry with a pinch to the swell of his belly, finally giving him what he wants and slipping her fingers down to that tight ring of muscle, a slow press that sends him preening at her touch.

“Aw, there it is, feels good, baby? You like my fingers fucking you? You want another one?” He lets out a breathy uh-huh that she’s happy to comply with, slipping another finger in with her first one and finding a slow pump, her other hand lazily stroking his cock, setting his thighs into a weak tremor.

“Fuck, I don’t wanna come like this– wanna get fucked, want you to fuck me.” “I am fucking you, superstar. Gotta use your words if there’s something else you want.” He lets out a petulant groan at her crackling words, throwing his head back in the pillows as she continues to work him over. 

“Want your cock, now, please.” Well, at least he tried to use his manners. He lets out a hiss when she pulls her hands away from him to smear lube over her strap, her eyes set, steeled, on his as she leans over him, one hand planted in the sheets next to his face and the other pressing her fake dick forward, slow and smooth like she knows he wants it.

“So good for me, Dieter. Just relax, baby, I always take good care of you, don’t I?” His eyes roll back when she presses all the way in, her hips stilling between the frame of his shaking thighs. But she doesn’t wait long before arcing her hips back, finding a heady rhythm to fuck him to. It’s perfect power, feeling the way his eyes drag over her body, the sway of her breasts with each thrust, the swirl of her hips when she grinds against that spot that makes him groan, his hands fisted in his hair, having long learned not to touch while she’s working. 

“You do– shit, always take good care of me– so fucking good, boss– feels fucking amazing.” 

He always comes so fast like this, and she can tell he’s already getting there now, his chest flushed pink, moans turning long and ragged. And when she drags her hand down the length of his cock, dipping down to cup his balls, it’s enough to send him right over the edge, his come smearing over his heaving belly. 

“That’s it, superstar. You’re too easy, I swear. Just gotta keep you good and fucked out and you’ll do whatever I want, huh, is that it?” Her teeth nip at the arc of his neck, the hilt of his jaw, lips barely hovering over his as he comes down from his high, though she’s quick to jerk her face away when he tries to lean up for a kiss, giggling at the frustrated crease that settles between his brows. 

“I have something else for you to kiss, baby.” With that, she pulls out of him, shushing his whimpers as she shimmies out of her harness. 

“Aw, do you need to take a break, superstar? Can’t handle it tonight?” It’s the exact thing she needs to say to snap him out of his orgasmic stupor, his head whipping up from the pillows, eyes wide and hands grabbing for her hips. 

“Not a fucking chance, boss. I– you– just fucking– c’mere.” Not without a laugh at his impatient grumbling, she crawls up his body until her thighs are framing his face, scruff tickling the softness of her skin. As with most things, he doesn’t mind his manners, hooking his arms around her thighs and pulling her down hard onto his mouth, the flat of his tongue swiping through her cunt before she can even brace herself. It’s desperate, and almost too sloppy, the way he fucks his tongue into her before dragging her pooling slick up to her clit, his groans sending a shiver through her spine. His fingers press hard into the swell of her ass, holding her steady enough that her hands are free to hold her breasts, rolling her nipples between her fingers, her head falling back at the added sensation. His tongue is everywhere, finally settling into a heady rhythm of fucking into her as she grinds down on the perfect crook of his nose. She’s not the kind of woman to hold back either, dragging her hips over the heat of his mouth, gasping into the stillness of the room, the sound mingling with his muffled grunts and the slick slide of his smacking lips. 

A yelp looses from her chest when he brings his hand down hard to the curve of her ass and he giggles, a gruff hum into her cunt, the fucking tool. But she’s too close to that tight pull of pleasure snapping to reprimand him now, instead settling her hand in his hair and tugging harshly as she comes with a long whine, her hips spasming in his hold as he laps at her pulsing cunt. Eventually, she has to shove him back by his forehead to get him to stop mouthing at her dripping cunt, tenderly swinging one thigh over him to plop down on the mattress in a heaving slump. 

“Same time next week?” Still catching her breath, she waves her hand dismissively at his smug question.

“Just shut up and come shower with me.” 

Her husband had insisted on a shower the size of her first studio apartment, all clear glass and black marble, what her friends lovingly call the “douchebag shower.” But she doesn’t mind it now, sharing it with Dieter, who always hogs her fancy shampoo, smelling like her for days after. 

“You’ve got an audition on Wednesday, two o’clock, I’ll send you the script in the morning.” He hums at that, dipping his head back under the water.

“What’s the vibe?” 

“Limited series for HBO. Some kind of mystery-thriller-beach-read screenplay. Main character role alongside Nicole Kidman.” He tilts his head back down at that, eyebrows quirking at her. She just smiles.

“You can tell me I’m good once you’ve got the part. And remember our little deal, Bravo. I’m not gonna let you fuck all my hard work up with a few lines of cocaine.” His grin goes a little crooked as he nods, holding out her shampoo for her.

“You wanna do it for me, baby?” He does, slipping behind her and running his sudsed-up fingers through her hair, just a touch rough, how he knows she likes it. 

She gives him a pair of her husband’s boxers, knowing that he won’t even notice they’re gone, and they slip back into bed, limbs warm and sated after a fuck and a shower. It’s the strangest part of this whole arrangement, the way they always end up, tangled around each other in her bed. She only had to ask for him to do it once, and now he does it without her having to say a thing, tucking his arms under her waist and settling into her with his cheek pressed into her sternum, the weight of him pressing her down into the mattress, her mind running slow and easy from his warmth. They need this, and they give it to each other without having to say a thing.

“I want you out of here–”

“Before eight o’clock. Yeah, boss, I got it.” 

..................................

@swiftispunk come get your juice lol

[sinpathyforthedevilish]

The Lovesick Lines

Pairing: Acting coach!Dieter x Actress!female reader

Genre: Fluff, Romance

Warnings: mutual pining, tooth-rotting Fluff, Idiots to lovers.

Words: 555

Summary: Dieter helps you learn your lines for your monologue.

A/N: Once again, I got inspired by Pedro's monologue which I love it and I've always wanted to write something about that scene. Hope you enjoy it!!!

"Again," he tells you with conviction.

You sigh, standing straight on stage and looking at the empty crowd. It's the fifth time you are rehearsing this scene and still, Dieter is not satisfied.

"Do you remember? When we saw—fuck—do you remember?"

Shit. If you don't have this line learned by tomorrow, you know your role will be on trouble. And Dieter is aware of that.

"Wait, wait. Hold on," He hops on stage one more time, walking towards you. "Let's do it one more time."

Before you start again with almost resignation, he grabs your arms, turning towards his direction.

"Let's pretend there is no one. There is no crowd, no people. Just you and me. All of these that you are saying, is to me," He whispers, now closer than before. "Okay?"

You just nod, feeling a little more confident.

He gives you the sign to start, and you recite.

"I always think about you, this time. Do you ever think about me? A little?" You whisper as you stare straight into his brown and deep eyes, which are digging holes in your soul. He gives you a sign to continue.

"You got something most people never have . And I tried to quote that shit back at you..."

He chuckles, his dimples showing up.

And your heart starts beating like crazy.

"And you laughed at me, cause I fucked it up... and I kissed you," you breath as you stare his mouth. Without even thinking, you approach him, cupping his cheek, feeling his soft skin and his thin beard. The lines of the play possessing your body. His smile slowly fades, his eyes stare down your lips.

"And you let me, and it rained like we were in a fucking movie... and life was never better than that..."

"Go on," he rasps.

You are both alone in the spotlight. Just a woman expressing her feelings to a man. You don't know anymore if you are acting or if it's your true feelings rising to the surface.

"You have to know that you'd send me in a kind of madness. I think maybe sometimes I made you up..."

His arm is now wrapped around your waist, chest to chest pressed against each other. This is it. This is your moment where you tell him the agonizing love that you have felt for him all these years.

"So I go into the quietest parts of this house and whisper your name."

"I whisper your name... I could scream it," you tremble against his lips. There is no distance anymore, just an invisible magnet that pulls you towards him. "Should I scream it? I should, I will."

You finish your line. Dieter is cupping your cheek too, mesmerized by your confession.

"Was it—was it okay?" You ask with a small voice.

He smiles lovingly, biting his lips as he traces your jaw.

"I am fucking dying to hear you screaming my name," He growls and with that he grasps your face with his hands and he crushes his lips against yours, kissing you with a fervor that makes you melt in his arms.

You both smile in the kiss, wrapping each other right in the middle on stage. 

Indeed, after the show, he receives you into his arms, grinning so proudly and kissing you until you forget the acclamation of the crowd.