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abeautylives · 1 year ago

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Imperfect Moments - Chapter Fourteen - The Final Chapter

a/n: Here it is, the end. I am already so sad that this story is over. Thank you for your patience, and thank you for reading 💕

Series Masterlist

pairing: Jakexfemale!reader

word count: 9.2k this chapter

final summary: It's really just been a series of imperfect moments that led to this.

warnings: 18+ minors stay far away, mentions of sex and sexual situations, language, mention of drinking, mushy fluff, graphic sexual content, unprotected penetrative sex, little bit of cum play, oral sex (m. and f. receiving, lots of it), biting as always, pneumonia sorry

“I really do love it, darling. It’s perfect.”

Josh is doodling on one of the pages of a leather bound journal, adding notation that you can’t read from your seat across the aisle. You wish you could say you’d come across it at some quirky boutique, but you’d known what you wanted and ended up ordering his Christmas present online. It was hand-crafted and you’d had it personalized with his initials stamped into the Napa.

To your left in the window seat, Jake is flipping through the pages of a worn paperback. His gift had been significantly less expensive than Josh’s, and you’d serendipitously come across it at a thrift store. You’d watched a glimmer of recognition pass over his features as he’d torn into the wrapping paper and revealed the title.

Treasure of the Atocha: A Four Hundred Million Dollar Archaeological Adventure

Insecurity had set in as he lifted it to show his family, prompting you to mumble an explanation.

“You know, that one necklace. The, um, silver one you wear sometimes? It’s an Atocha coin- you know that already. The book, it’s about the search for the treasure. From the shipwreck. I saw it and thought of you…”

You’d trailed off as he’d stared at you, your cheeks and chest warm with self-consciousness but it wouldn’t last long. Before you could say anything else, he’d reached out and pulled you in with a hand wrapped around the back of your neck, kissed you so hard you could barely breathe. Unconcerned about his parents and siblings in the room and reluctant to let the moment end, he pressed his forehead to yours.

“Thank you.”

Remembering that morning now, you lean back in your seat and smile to yourself. It really had been pretty perfect, but you’re happy to be headed home.

The new year came and went, celebrated with a relatively tame get-together at the twins’ house, that still managed to end with you and Danny carrying Josh to bed before fighting a bottle of tequila and a Roman candle out of Jake’s hands. Sam remained blissfully unaware and unhelpful, passed out on the living room floor by the time you had Jake leaning heavily into your side as you guided him up the stairs.

Life was busy in the following weeks, but mostly for the guys. With a huge tour looming and new music already being written, you spent a lot less time with them than you’d grown used to, and your time together seemed to move too quickly. Jake never forgot his promise though.

I’m all in.

Jake K: We’re gonna be here late, I can tell

Me: ☹️☹️☹️

Me: It’s ok, I figured you would be

Jake K: I’m sorry love. Can I still come over after?

Me: I HAVE to get some sleep, work in the morning

Jake K: You can go to bed, I’ll be quiet. I just wanna sleep next to you

You’d given him a key. It had worked out in his favor so far, and it was almost worth going to bed alone to wake up next to him in the morning.

“Mm, just call out… fuck, keep doing that.”

He’s got one knotted handful of your hair and the other one is white-knuckling your sheets. You can’t reply with words, your mouth otherwise occupied with his dick throbbing against your tongue that’s dragging up the length of it from the base.

“We can stay in bed today, don’t go to work.” You watch through your eyelashes as he swallows, his head thrown back and sunk into your pillow, throat exposed to you. When you pull off of him with a final flick of your tongue to the head, he groans and cracks an eye open.

“Why are you stopping, pleasepleaseplease don’t stop.”

“Jake…” Your lips pressed to the soft skin of his stomach. “You have to work today too.” Another wet kiss, just above his navel. “But…” Crawling further up his body, another kiss, right over his heart before you’re nose to nose.

“…You sound so pretty when you beg.”

A growl rumbles past his lips before they’re on yours, hard and fast and then he’s got you flipped onto your back. You’ve hardly caught your breath before you feel the tip of his cock pressed against you, still slick from your mouth and slipping through your own wetness. He practically moans his next words into your ear, sliding inside you slowly.

“Please call out today, sweetheart. Stay with me.”

He’s laying it on thick, meekness and desperation in his tone, his bottom lip poked out in a pout when he pulls back to look into your eyes. For good measure, he adds a soft I miss you and his best puppy dog eyes.

“Pffft!” The laughter bursts forth without restraint and he joins you in it, a quiet chuckle and sly tilt to his lips even as he props himself over you and starts to roll his hips. Your giggles catch in your throat on a sigh.

“Ohh… you know I can’t. Makes me feel guilty.” Even as you’re rejecting the idea, your hands are roaming the warm skin of his back and your legs are circling themselves around his waist.

Determined to get his way, he brings one of his own hands to the outside of your thigh and squeezes, drawing them tighter to his body as his thrusts pick up speed.

“Fuck that job.” He feels your nails sink into his skin. “Quit.” A heel digs into his ass, the sound of his hips colliding with your thighs gets louder. “I’ll just be your sugar daddy.”

“Jake!” His eyes light up, bright and warm as the notes of your laughter float up to him from the mattress.

“You think I’m joking, but you like that idea.” Leaning close again, you can feel his breath across your lips so you pucker them, a silent request. “I felt your pretty cunt squeeze me, you want me to spoil you, love?” He captures the kiss you’re offering and absorbs your hum of confirmation. His hips slow until each stroke draws its own gasp or whimper from you, playing composer and instrumentalist of the music you’re making for him.

Forehead dropped to yours, he lets his gaze fall between your bodies, zeroing in on the skin just below your hip bone. There’s a crease there at the joint, where your legs are spread wide and wrapped around him. He releases his grip on your thigh to move higher and slide his thumb through the soft fold. His cock pulses inside you.

“Fuck babe, I’m gonna cum-“ It’s a warning just a heartbeat before it happens, you can feel the beginnings of your own orgasm fade away as his hips stutter and then still. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, not before-“

You reach up to tuck strands of his hair behind his ear and rest your palm against a rosy cheek. “It’s okay, baby. I need to get ready for work anyway.” He slips out of you and shifts like he’s going to let you out from beneath him, but his arms keep you caged in and he shifts down your body instead, landing on his stomach between your thighs. “Jake, no we don’t have time-“

“Give me two minutes.” You’re not allowed to argue, his mouth already attached to your cunt. A man of his word, he focuses his attention to your clit, sensitive and already swollen. Hands shooting to the back of his head, you hold him there as your muscles constrict and your back arches. You can feel his release begin to leak from you, picturing the pearlescent liquid moving over your pink flesh in your mind.

“Fuuuck, keep going keepgoing!”

A grunt against your skin and then his lips open over you and suck you in, a lewd slurp of your juices… and his. You think he’s going to stop when he realizes what he’s done, but when you lift your head to look at him, his eyes are already on your face. With a knowing lift of his eyebrows, he licks a long, slow stripe through the mess he’s made. It ends with a flick to your clit, and you can see it there, glistening on his tongue.

The moan that rolls out of you is animalistic, feral.

He does it again, dipping inside you for more this time before pulling his face away.

You haven’t taken your eyes off of him, but he makes sure you’re watching.

His lips open, pink and slick and you can just barely see his tongue move behind them before he purses them, and spits it directly onto your clit.

“Fuck Jake!”

You’re plummeting over the edge before he even buries his face back into you, sucking and lapping at you sinfully until you have to push him away. When his head pops up from between your legs, the lower half of his face is a mess, he drags the back of his hand across his grin just before you’re grasping at him and pulling him back up to you.

His kiss tastes like him. And you. The mixture is heady and improper and your tongue is greedy for it as it swirls against his. You stretch out your shoulder from beneath his weight, searching blindly for your phone with one hand as he breaks away.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling out of work.” Your fingers are already moving over the screen, typing up an excuse. “Not quitting, but I’m definitely not going in today.”

His laugh cracks out and bounces off the walls of your tiny bedroom, his head thrown back and the smile on his face stretching wide as he props himself up to lean on an elbow.

“That’s my fucking girl, I love you.”

He’s still shaking with laughter, you’re still typing. “I love you too, baby.”

Your thumb lands on the arrow, message sent before you realize. His body stills beside you. Slowly, you turn your head to face him over your shoulder. He’s already looking at you, eyes wide.

“What did you say?”

He breaks first, in slow motion you watch the corners of his mouth tug upward and curl, smile lines sinking deep as he beams at you. Oh, how long he’s been waiting for this. Scrambling to sit up, his legs fold under him and he pulls you up too. When your eyes are focused on him, he reaches forward and gently picks up both of your hands to hold in his, and he says it again.

“I love you, sweetheart. I’m sorry it took me so long-“

“Don’t. Please don’t apologize. I’m so in love with you…” A relieved giggle bubbles from your throat. “I love you! Oh my god, that feels good. Say it again.”

He does, over and over, between lingering kisses and long moments spent entwined with you, fingers drawn leisurely over the dips and curves that make up his favorite parts of you. With nowhere else to be, it’s a long time before you leave the nest of your blankets.

It’s already early afternoon when you’re both seated at your pub table, sharing love-sick glances over the rims of your coffee cups. You’re still naked aside from Jake’s tan button up hanging loose and open over your frame, Jake had opted to simply pull the sheet from your bed and wrap it around his waist.

“Can I ask you something?”

Jake nods as he swallows a sip and places his mug on the table.

“When did it happen?” You begin to pick nervously at your nails, knowing that whatever he says is probably not going to be what you expect.

“When did what happen, love?”

“Ya know, when did you… know?”

He remembers being in almost this exact position before. Having a drink with you, at this table, considering his next move. Instead of an abbreviated version of the truth, he gives you the entire story as it’s written in his mind.

“Well… by April, not this past April but the one before, I knew that I wanted you.” He’d been a month or so deep into the façade of hating you at that point, and he can see that realization move across your expression. “It was a really small thing at our place, for our birthday. I used to try and avoid you when you were there most of the time, but I watched you that day, fawning over Josh. I could see it in your eyes, that you had feelings for him. You were really very obvious about it.”

You groan and drop your face into your hands, a little ashamed of your naïveté. Jake waits patiently for you to look back up at him, which you do sheepishly.

“I knew that day that he wouldn’t reciprocate those feelings, whatever it was that you wanted from him. He wasn’t gonna give it to you. I knew that if I were him, I would’ve taken the opportunity you were presenting on a silver platter. I would’ve had you in my bed every night, looking at me like that.”

Your head is nodding absently, an almost forlorn look on your face that’s pulling the corners of your lips into a barely there frown. All of that time, wasted. His intention isn’t to make you sad, he keeps talking.

“It sort of just… went on like that. For a while. Me wanting you, you snarling or frowning or rolling your eyes at me anytime I dared to speak. But you came to watch us play, and you smiled up at me on purpose. I could tell it was some kind of power move, so I upped the ante. I’m sorry about that, by the way. What I did backstage.”

You laugh it off. “Don’t be. I think it turned out okay.”

He smiles in response. “It did. Still, it wasn’t… nice of me. It was mean, and intentional, but after I’d gotten my hands on you I knew once wouldn’t be enough. I dreamt about fucking you that night, jerked off thinking about you the next morning.”

He chuckles when your cheeks turn pink.

“The next night, at that party, I suppose I had hoped I could shock some reality into you. That you’d just see that I was better for you. But you started crying and it broke my heart. Right before I kissed you, that was when I knew that sex probably wouldn’t be enough for me, but it was what you were willing to accept.”

Your smile is soft, remembering what had been one of the worst nights of your life as something more hopeful. The way he tells it from his perspective is addicting, it’s rare to pull this many words from him at any given time and his voice is quiet, his tone thoughtful. You reach a hand out over the surface of the table to place it over his.

“I do realize that none of that is an answer to what you asked. I just thought you should know.”

He smiles with that, your favorite one, just for you.

“Keep going…” Your own voice is not much more than a whisper.

“I’m getting there. Ya know, there’s a handful of these like… just almost perfect moments that stand out. Really good moments that I’d somehow fuck up, or almost fuck up. Times that had me thinking about every word before I said it, because I knew I was going to embarrass myself. Because I knew I was undeniably and irrevocably in love with you, only four days after I left here for the first time.”

“Jake!” He just grins at you, pleased with his admission. “That’s not true!”

“It is. I swear on Josh’s life. And he’ll tell you himself, I think he knew way before he ever asked me about it. Way before I’d admit it, even to myself.”

You can feel your jaw hanging slack, mouth ajar in disbelief. “I… don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, please don’t tell me when it happened for you. I’ve embarrassed myself enough, I think.”

Silently, you stand from your chair and slide yourself onto his lap, looping your arms loosely around his neck. His hands keep you secure there, wrapping themselves over each hip as he looks up at you.

Brushing a thumb over it lightly, you ask him, “Did you know I love it when you do this little grin?” Your words cause it to stretch, just a little wider. “You looked just like this when you smiled back at me, on stage, in front of all those people but it was just for me.”

“There is only ever you, for me.”

He’d made love to you again in the shower, unable to wait until the suds had even been rinsed from your body. Slipping against you, your face and tits pressed into the tile with fingers grasping to find purchase on the slick surface, his hands and hips kept you where he wanted you. His teeth worked to coax fresh rosebuds to the surface of your skin, nipping across your shoulder, soothing each one with a kiss and breaths of hushed words.

Mine. My love. I love you.

The sun had eventually disappeared from the sky, replaced by moonlight as you were stretched out over the length of your couch with your head in Jake’s lap. About halfway through The Goonies, which he’d described as “one of the greatest films about pirate treasure of all time”, he called out your name quietly. Your actual name, not love or sweetheart.

You turn your face up to him and find him looking very serious.

“What’s wrong?”

“Absolutely nothing, my life’s pretty perfect at the moment.” He looks around the room and back down to you, confirming that he’s right, it’s perfect. “I was thinking though… wouldn’t it make a lot of sense if you just moved in with me?” When your eyes nearly bulge out of your skull, he adds, “Me and Josh, into our house.”

You shoot up from his lap and twist until you’re cross-legged on the cushion next to him. “What?”

“Hear me out, and I mean this, we’re leaving soon and we’ll be away more than we’re home. For a while. Wouldn’t you rather have our whole house to yourself than be here, alone?”

Ouch.

It’s a harsh truth and it’s coming your way, quickly. You know that.

“You can stop paying rent. You could work less and fly out with us sometimes. You could be around all of our stuff, sleep in Josh’s bed when you miss him more than me.” He’s trying to keep it light-hearted, but you can still feel the sincerity rolling off of him. He’s serious.

It’s your turn to survey the room. You know it’s kind of a shithole apartment, with your entire life packed into its six-hundred or so square feet.

But that’s not true, is it? The best parts of your life live outside of these walls.

“Okay.”

“Okay. Okay?”

“Yes. You’re right, it kinda makes sense. I can’t do it right away, I have to give notice here. What am I gonna do with my furniture? It’s all secondhand, it’s not super important to me but I have to figure out how to get rid of it. Pack and move everything else. Would you have time to help me? Maybe we can ask the other guys- What?”

He’s just been watching you ramble, watching the gears turn in your head and the words spill out as you think of them.

“You’re sure? I was expecting you to have to think about it…”

“I’ve thought about it.”

“Maybe not enough?”

“The last time I thought about something, maybe not enough, I ended up with you.”

Half of his mouth curls up into a smirk. “Fair point.”

“Shouldn’t you… I dunno, talk to Josh about this though?”

He tugs you back to his cushion on the couch and tucks you under his arm until you’re curled into his side, turns his face back to the movie.

“It was his idea.”

You’d started planning and packing the very next evening, notice given to your leasing office and less than two months before the guys leave for Michigan again. Within two weeks, most of your earthly possessions had found new homes in the twins’ house and your furniture, left behind in an otherwise empty apartment, was sitting there waiting to be sold or donated.

It had been strange at first, spending all of your time there, falling asleep and waking up there every day. Most of your time with Jake had been spent in your space, but you figured that this was your space now. It would take some getting used to.

More than once, Jake had stopped you on your way out of the bedroom.

“You don’t have any pants on, sweetheart.”

It was nice though, being with Josh. They were both busier than ever, so much of their time poured into their music, their upcoming performances, but at the end of the day they both came home to you.

You had missed him more than you’d realized.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come back to Michigan, darling? It’s still snowing up there. We could go ice skating again.”

“I can’t take the time off, Josh. Not yet. Also the entire state is going to be crawling with Greta Van Fleet fans, we’re not going ice skating any time soon.”

“I suppose that’s true. So, when are you planning to fly out to us?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t even told my job that I’m planning on cutting my hours yet. All of this happened so fast.”

“You should’ve just quit. I know you care about your job, in the way that any of us care about responsibility, obligation and money… but you don’t love it. You’d be fantastic at artist management, actually. Look how well you keep the two of us in line, we’d be lost without you!”

He’s joking, you think, but he’s not entirely wrong. You don’t exactly have a passion for what you do, you’ve just been doing it for so long. And quitting without a plan is just not in the cards.

They flew out two days later for a solid three week stretch of shows, dates scheduled back to back for most of it. The twins had FaceTimed you after the first one, still high on adrenaline, Sam’s distinct laughter loud in the background. The next day, a day off, Jake had tucked himself away in his bunk on the bus and called. Your conversation was subdued and unhurried, knowing that you wouldn’t have many opportunities like this in the coming weeks.

“I’m so proud of you, baby.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. I love you so much.”

You don’t hear from them much in the next couple of days, a few texts when they have a moment, updates when they can. Jake calls on their days off, waiting until he knows you’re home from work. You’re not expecting it when Josh texts to tell you that he and Jake both had woken up feeling under the weather, only six days in, two shows canceled and rescheduled. Just like that. Neither of them answer your calls, undoubtedly heartbroken over disappointing their fans. Jake sends you one text that day, knowing his brother had broken the news to you.

Jake K: I hate this. I wish you were here.

You cry yourself to sleep, their pain is your pain.

The abrupt ringing of your phone wakes you up. 5:17am.

“Josh?” You have to clear your throat and try again. “Josh, it’s early, are you okay?”

Even through the fog of sleep you can tell he’s upset. “I’m fine, better, actually. Um, darling… it’s Jake.”

Your stomach twists into a knot instantly, you’re shoving the comforter away and moving to stand.

“We had to take him to the hospital.”

The air leaves your lungs, you couldn’t stand if you tried.

“What?” It hardly passes your lips as more than a squeak.

He goes on to tell you that Jake had woken himself up coughing, unable to catch his breath, in pain. The doctors hadn’t been able to diagnose him yet, but they’re trying.

You’d cut him off there, told him you were coming.

He’d stopped you, told you to wait until they figured out what was wrong.

The following hours passed slowly as you waited for information. Jake, still having difficulty breathing, wasn’t able to call. His texts to you were dismal, sad and infrequent as he waited for a diagnosis that turned out to be pneumonia.

Four days. Four days he’d lain in a hospital bed, struggling to breathe and Josh had refused to fly you out, day after day.

“Darling, we’re bringing him home as soon as they let him out. He seems to think he’s going to be able to play, but it’s not happening.”

He’d come home a little thinner, pale, still coughing and short of breath. It had taken weeks for him to feel well enough to even leave the house, you and Josh there to answer to his beck and call, though Josh had tired of it after about a week.

“He’s a grown man, he can walk himself to the kitchen if he wants a damn popsicle.”

“Joshua. He would do anything for you if you needed him. Have some empathy.”

You’d taken Jake the popsicle and found him sitting at his desk, an ostentatious antique with an even more pretentious wingback chair to match, scribbling on an unlined sheet of paper.

“Baby? What are you up to?”

He delicately finishes a sentence, the sound of the pencil’s lead moving over the paper hits your ears before he drops it to the desktop. “Writing them a letter, they deserve to hear from me.”

They. His fans, disappointed but concerned for his health, had shown an outpouring of love and well wishes for him online that hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Looking over his shoulder, you find about half a page of flowery words explaining the progress of his recovery, rescheduled dates, and his thanks.

“They’ll like this, I think. It’s way better than those ugly blocks of texts you guys use to deliver bad news… They’re kind of impersonal, ya know?”

He coughs into the crook of his elbow before answering, a dry sound, already much better than the thick, painful sounding cough he’d come home with.

Clearing his throat and taking a deep breath, he answers you, “I know, and I hate doing that to them.”

You watch him pick up the pencil again and finish it off with a line about their long awaited reunion, dropping lower and signing off with his name. He scans his own words for a second before peeking up at you and finally snatching his popsicle from your fingers. “It’s pretty good, right?”

“I think it’s very good, Jake. All of your love, huh?”

You’re referring to his sign off, heartfelt and dramatic, as he’s been known to be.

All My Love,

Jake

“Jealous, sweetheart?” There’s a playful sort of twinkle in his eyes as he grins up at you, that you’re grateful to see after so many days of the sadness that you’ve found there.

“Shut up and eat your popsicle.”

You treat him like he’s fragile until he can’t take it anymore, but the first time you’d tried anything physical since he’d come home, he came so violently down your throat that it sent him into a coughing fit that left him red in the face and unable to breathe. He’d tried in the days and weeks since, more than once you’d awoken with his hands moving over you, sometimes already rubbing soft circles into you over your underwear. He would beg you to let him make you cum, and you would, but only with his fingers.

Eleven days before they were scheduled to leave for South America, he jumped you as soon as you got home from work. Cleared with a clean bill of health, excited to get back on the road but desperate for you, he attached his lips to yours, wrapped his hands around your waist and lifted you off the ground. With your ankles locked behind his back, he carried you blindly up the stairs without breaking from your kiss.

He’d fucked you, fast and dirty, bending you to his will and tossing you around the bed. Simply because he could. You’d cum hard at his command, the orgasm ripping a scream from your lungs that he’d been aching for, triggering his own that pulled a sound akin to a roar from his mouth.

Sweating, chests heaving and bodies sprawled across the sheets, you’d come down silently aside from a pleased chuckle from Jake.

From the hallway outside the bedroom door, Josh’s voice had rung out, coming in and then fading out as he’d passed and headed down the stairs.

“So glad to hear you’re feeling better, but that was absurd. Keep that shit to yourselves!”

You almost felt bad but for the next week, the sex was savage. And loud. On their birthday, Josh had presented you with what he referred to as “a gift to myself.” He pulled up an email confirmation on his phone and flipped it around, dropping it into your hands.

“You’re staying in a hotel tonight?”

“No, you two animals are staying in a hotel tonight. I will be sleeping soundly in my bed. And it will be quiet.”

You didn’t argue, just sighed and wrapped your arms around him. He stopped you when you started to apologize for the noise.

“I knew what I was signing up for when I floated the idea of you moving in, darling. I also know that you’re still wrapped up in this little honeymoon phase, and it’ll pass. Now get out, enjoy yourselves and leave me in peace!”

You’d run upstairs to pack a small bag before telling Jake what your new plans for the evening were. Digging through what was now your underwear drawer, looking for something worthy of the birthday boy, it had dawned on you.

All you packed was a change of clothes for the morning, and the oversized black band tee. His band.

Ultimately, Jake had been correct about a few things. You were ecstatic for them to be going back to South America and Mexico, to be performing again with arguably the biggest rock band in the world, their excitement had been contagious but it didn’t take long for you to miss them, and being in a house full of their things actually did help. Some. There were even a couple of nights spent in Josh’s bed, but not exactly because you missed him more.

You missed Jake so badly that it physically hurt, the scent of him in your shared bed made your chest ache, sometimes so deeply that it prevented you falling asleep. On one of those nights, tucked under Josh’s comforter, you were scrolling mindlessly through the Greta Van Fleet tag on Instagram. Already knowing that some of the things you would find there would be… odd, you scrolled and scrolled. From experience, you also knew you would find fan photos, people who’d met them or seen them out and about. Jake had told you that they were meeting people everywhere they went, and you found the evidence of that just like you’d easily found the picture of yourself in the Christmas store.

Both of the twins had been sending you their own pictures as they made their way through Chile, Argentina and Brazil, usually of distinct landmarks, exotic flowers, or beautiful blue bodies of water. But you’d started a collection of saved photos, the few that they’d sent of themselves, or each other.

As you scrolled, shifting from Instagram to your camera roll, you noticed something. Back to Instagram, you search for the band’s account and look closely at everything posted since they got to Chile. Pinch, zoom, yep. There it is. Back to your camera roll. Every picture Josh had sent you of his twin, knowing you needed them, many times taken without his knowledge.

The silver necklace, the coin. It would appear that he hasn’t taken it off since he’s been gone. It’s curious, and you’re not sure why it had caught your eye aside perhaps from the fact that it simply hasn't been his regular jewelry of choice since you’ve known him. You’re fairly certain that you understand his mind pretty well at this point, and you decide that this is deliberate. You make a mental note to remember to ask him about it before a fatigued yawn grips you.

With your eyes squeezed closed, you can feel how you’ve strained them staring at your phone in the dark of Josh’s room. Before you lock the screen for the night, you open your messages and choose the thread at the top.

Me: I love you baby

You had said your goodnights hours ago, intending to go to sleep and failing. You’re not expecting a response, but you keep typing.

Me: Will this ever get easier?

You’re awoken in the morning, entirely too early, by the ringing of your phone. Startled into consciousness, the fear hits you first, the memory of Josh’s call from Michigan still fresh in your mind. You scramble to reach for it, noting the time is actually after nine, and the name and photo on the screen are Jake’s.

Nervously, quietly, you answer. “Hello?” Met at first with silence, you try again. “Jake?”

His voice bleeds from the speaker, low in volume but directly into your ear, and as soon as you hear it your vision blurs.

“I can’t promise that it gets easier, sweetheart. I don’t know the answer to that. But I can promise you that whatever you’re feeling… I feel it too.” He waits for your response, but the soft sound of your breath hitching comes over the line. “Please don’t cry, baby, you’re breaking my heart over here.”

He listens to you weep, a melancholy mixture of quiet sobs and sniffles, offering you words that he hopes are comforting and wishing he had you in his arms.

“I- I’m sorry. You don’t need this right now, I didn’t mean to-“

“Don’t be sorry, love, just.. do me a favor?”

You sniffle again, swiping your fingertips across the wet streaks left on your cheeks. “What?”

“Tell me you love me, tell me you’re all in.” You repeat his words back to him, and you mean them. He smiles to himself, a grin that you can’t see. “That’s all that matters. I’ll be home in a week.”

Seven days and thirteen hours later, he’s on his knees between your legs, wrinkled linen shirt discarded somewhere on the floor nearby and quickly joined by your leggings. He’s working on your panties, his hands are impatient as they drag the lace past your hips and down your thighs, his lips are hungry as they follow the trail of goosebumps left behind by his fingers.

From your seat at the edge of the bed, leaned back on your palms, you watch him move. The apples of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose are faintly freckled from the Mexican sun, the first thing you’d noticed when you’d cupped his face in your hands this morning, as soon as he’d unfolded his frame from the car in the driveway. There’s also a distinct V of tanned skin down the center of his chest, his shoulders and arms still pale. The silver necklace still hangs there, apparently his new favorite.

When your underwear are slipped free from your feet, you watch him bring them to his face, balled in one of his fists. His eyes meet yours just as he buries his nose into them and breathes you in.

You don’t bother with an objection because his eyelids flutter and the honey of his irises disappears as his eyes roll back, and you feel your pussy pulse in response. When his eyes open and refocus on you, they’re nearly black.

He tosses the panties over his shoulder and skates his fingers up the backs of your legs, up your calves and settles his palms onto your knees.

“Y’know those dreams that are so… vivid that you can smell them?” His hands slip inward and slowly push your knees farther apart as you hum in acknowledgment. “I had dreams like that when we were gone, I dunno what’s in the air down there but I think it was affecting my brain.” Spreading your legs as far as they’ll go, his hands continue their journey up the insides of your thighs and he watches you open to him, revealing your arousal glistening between the folds. “I could smell your shampoo, the lotion on your skin.” He brings his face closer to your core, close enough to feel the heat rolling off of your body, closing his eyes and taking another deep inhale through his nose. You run a hand through the hair falling over his ear and sink your fingers into the tresses, guiding his face up to look at you again. “I could smell your cunt, I swear I could taste it. I’d wake up with my mouth watering and my dick pounding.”

Lost for words, all you can manage is a whisper. “Stop teasing.” You use your grip against his scalp to pull him into you, his soft chuckle rippling over your already sensitive flesh.

He savors you, his movements slow and intentional as his tongue drags over every inch of you, your lips sucked past his own as the flavor of you coats his taste buds.

With a hand lifted and placed to the center of your chest, still covered by the soft cotton of one of his old t-shirts, he pushes you gently to lay back for him. As soon as your back hits the sheets, your hips are writhing against his mouth, searching for friction, searching for more, desperate to reach this first peak and get him inside you.

He lets you squirm, taking what he needs from between your thighs while your body begs him to take you higher and push you over. Knowing he’ll never truly get his fill, he’ll never actually get enough, he gives in to the demand of your hands, both now tangled in the hair at the back of his head and trying to coax him to where you need him. He sucks your clit into his mouth and rolls his tongue over it.

Your hips still and your back bows, a perfect arch over the mattress. He likes your reaction, loves it even, but something’s missing. Popping off of your pussy, he shakes his head at you.

“Let me hear you, love. I’ve been missing all those filthy sounds you make for me.” He leans in a flicks his tongue over you, pulling an airy whine from your throat. It’s not good enough, so he abandons his work and moves to trail kisses down the inside of your thigh instead.

With a bratty huff of frustration, you lift your head and find him watching you from the corner of his eye, lips still moving over your skin. You let your head drop back to the bed, annoyed.

Laced with attitude, you spit out, “Jake, come on.”

Rather than respond, or comply, you feel his tongue slip over the tender skin high inside your thigh just before he opens his mouth wide and then closes his teeth around it. Hard.

“FUCK Jake!”

That’s better, his dick jumps in his pants at the sound and he drops a hand to his lap to run it over his length. He’s painfully hard already, straining against the material but prepared to wait until he gets what he wants from you. He keeps running his lips, tongue and teeth over your thigh until he does.

“Baby please, I need you.”

“And I need you, but you’re holding back on me. Why?” When you stay silent for a beat too long, he pries further. “Tell me, or you can go to bed now, wet and aching.”

You know he’s bluffing, or you hope he is, but there’s no possibility that you’re going to test that theory.

“Josh…”

Just over the mound between your thighs, you see his brows lift, eyes burning into yours. “You better explain that, sweetheart. Now.”

“He’ll hear us.”

His features relax as a slow grin pulls one corner of his mouth upward. “So what?” Moving in close, he extends his tongue and swipes it over your clit with a pointed flick that jerks a yelp past your lips. “He doesn’t care.”

“He does, and we’ve been pretty terrible roommates so far, Jacob.”

The admonishing tone combined with the use of his full name grabs his attention. “Oh she’s serious.” He drops a kiss to the soft sprinkling of hair just above the throbbing and neglected bud between your legs. “You’re such a sweet girl, aren’t you?” Another kiss, this time with his lips puckered and placed directly over your clit. You sigh quietly at the contact. “How could I deny my sweet, perfect girl anything that she wants? Just let me hear you, make that pretty music just for me.”

Finally, he sucks you onto his tongue again, swirling it over you until your barely restrained gasps and soft moans of his name are filling the room, bouncing against these four walls. Your hands keep him pulled tight against you, muffling his own satisfied grunts and when you feel the tips of his fingers dip into you, your hips rock against them until they’re sunk in deep, until you’re fucking yourself with them. With just one curl sending them brushing over that hidden spot inside, you begin to unravel around them.

“I’m gonna cum, baby, I- oh god!”

He doesn’t stop when your legs attempt to clamp shut around his head, lapping at your release as it rushes out of you and soaks the fingers that he’s still pumping into you. He’s drawing it out, swallowing down everything that you’re giving him as if he’s been shipwrecked, stranded on a deserted island, finally presented with enough precious liquid to save his life. When your muscles go lax and your legs fall open, he slips his fingers from you slowly, careful not to waste a drop, licking a final stripe over you before popping those fingers into his mouth and sucking them clean.

Unable to will your muscles into motion, you call out to him from your position, limp and splayed out over the bed. “Pants off, now.” You don’t hear him spring into action, so you crack an eye open and lift your head enough to look down at him. He looks drunk, his eyes dazed and unfocused but still trained on your pussy. You try to prop yourself up but your limbs feel useless, so you force your other eye open to see him better and that’s when you catch it. The ends of his hair, hanging forward over his collarbones, are wet. There’s a drop clinging to his chin, catching the light as it quivers there and then falls, dripping to the floor.

“Jake, what-“

Your voice breaks through the haze and his eyes snap to yours. “I think… I’m pretty sure you just squirted.”

The word alone makes you groan, your arms finding the strength to lift and fold over your face, hiding the flaming heat turning your cheeks red. This finally has him moving, off of his knees to kneel on to mattress and hover over you, tugging your arms away to reveal your embarrassment.

“Whoa whoa, what’s wrong?”

“Don’t say that!”

“What? ‘Squirt’?”

You slap your hands to your face, hiding it from him again. “It’s gross!”

With a gentle touch, he peels your hands away and pins them to the mattress, fingers linked with yours. Your eyes are squeezed shut as he brings his face closer. “Look at me.” You do as he asks, his tone delicate and soft as a summer breeze. “It’s not gross, nothing about you could ever be. It’s probably the hottest thing you’ve ever done, right above the first time you asked me to fuck your mouth.” He’s flooded with relief when a tinkling giggle slips from between your lips, now turned up into a timid smile. “Here, feel this?” He guides one of your hands down between your bodies and places it over his cock, sucking in a hiss through his teeth when you squeeze it. He’s hard as stone, and you can feel the heat coming off of him even through his pants.

In awe of your effect on him, you whisper, “Does it hurt?”

“Mm, a little. Feels like I could explode any second.”

“Show it to me, let me see.”

He presses a fast kiss to your lips and stands from the bed, stripping himself quickly of his pants and taking his briefs with them. Completely bared to you, he watches you sit up for a closer look and wraps a hand around the base.

His cock is swollen and flushed a deep pink, the tip nearly red and leaking as he pulls his fist to it. Your brain is screaming at you, yelling for you to lean forward and taste it, but the walls of your cunt are pulsing, clenching around nothing, greedy for him. He continues to stroke himself slowly, in front of your face, wincing through the near pain of it and silently challenging you to make the next move. Whatever you want, it’s yours.

Your original need wins out and you turn away from the sight of him, beautiful and brazenly pleasuring himself inches from your lips. You crawl up the bed and place yourself comfortably upon the pillows, finding him eyeing you intensely once you’re facing him again. His hand stills on his dick as you bend both legs at the knee and let them fall open wide.

“Get over here.”

He’s on the bed in an instant, yanking the hem of your t-shirt up and revealing your breasts, pulling a nipple into his mouth as he lines himself up, lavishing it with his tongue as he crashes his hips into yours.

Unable to stop it, you scream when the head of his cock slams into your cervix. Rather than slow his pace, he takes the fistful that he still has of your shirt and shoves it into your open mouth. He’s pleased with its efficiency, the primal sounds that you’re making are pretty effectively quieted as you bite down on the cotton. Just to make sure, he pops off of your nipple and takes the other between his teeth. Your muffled mhmm, mmhmm has him driving them into the skin. Your muted squeal has his hips pistoning, jolting your body as he races to his finish.

Almost there, dangling over the edge, he lifts his face from your chest to check on you, a visual assessment that finds a sheen of sweat across your brow and your eyes rolling back in your skull.

On a ragged breath, he calls for your attention. “Babe…”

You roll your eyes forward and find him dripping with sweat, it’s rolling down his neck and traveling over his chest. The pendant of his necklace, the coin, is swinging over your face as his rhythm begins to falter.

“I’m gonna cum, fill this pussy up, you want it?” His jaw is clenched, he’s barely hanging on.

You release the shirt from between your teeth and spit it out.

“Give it to me, I want it all. Do it, Jake!”

With a strangled call of your name, your actual name, he lets go. You can feel the heat of it spilling inside you and he groans, sounding again like it’s physically painful as he fills you until his release is overflowing from your cunt, while he’s still fucking more into you. His body shudders as it finally ends, he sinks to you, hot and sticky and completely drained. Into the damp skin in the crook of your neck, he murmurs a drowsy I love you.

Hands running through the sweat-soaked strands of his hair, you say it back. He breathes into a kiss placed to that spot on your neck before rolling off of you.

He’s already slipping into sleep, you know he’s exhausted from travel and you can see it now in his features. There are soft purple shadows under the fans of his eyelashes, resting over his cheeks. You also know that he’ll wish in the morning that he had showered, washed the film of sweat and sex off of his body before passing out, but you can’t bear the thought of forcing him from the bed now.

You let your fingers trail over his chest, moving steadily with the rhythm of his breathing that’s evening out as he drifts away. Drawing a circle over the cool metal of his necklace, you whisper up to him before he’s completely gone.

“Have you been wearing this since you left?”

Barely conscious, he lifts a hand and wraps his fingers around yours that are toying with the coin.

“Mm, yeah. Haven’t taken it off.”

“Is there a reason?” You know there has to be, everything he does has a purpose, even if he doesn’t know exactly what it is.

“Finished the book you gave me for Christmas. I read it three times while we were gone. Necklace reminds me of you.”

Oh.

He’s snoring softly before you can respond. You move away from him slowly, rolling to grab your phone but not finding it on your nightstand. Quickly and quietly, you tiptoe around the room and don’t find it anywhere, so you slip your leggings back on, up and over your hips and sneak out the door.

You head first to use the bathroom, then to Josh’s bedroom door but find it slightly ajar and the room dark. After slinking down the stairs, you’re met with a dark kitchen but a soft blue glow coming from the living room. Josh is there, nearly asleep himself but still upright on the couch in front of some black and white film that doesn’t seem familiar to you. He startles only slightly when you step into the room.

“What are you sneaking around for, darling? I didn’t even hear you come down the stairs.” He pats the cushion next to him, an invitation that you accept.

“Jake’s asleep, I didn’t wanna wake him. What are you still doing up?”

“I could ask you the same, shouldn’t you be cuddling your beloved or some shit? You reek of sex.” There’s no fire behind his words as he teases you.

“I need to talk to you. I need your help.”

Just over two weeks later, they’re packed to leave again. They both pack infuriatingly light for a month-long journey through Europe, but you know they’ll cycle through five outfits, max, between the two of them

Jake saunters into your bedroom as you’re frantically sifting through your closet, tossing things out into the room as you go. He moves through the space, taking note of the open suitcase laid out on the bed as he steps toward the closet door, where a denim jacket slaps him in the face and wraps itself around his head. You haven’t even noticed and continue to throw things in his direction. He pulls the jacket free and drops it to the pile you’ve created at his feet before scaring the shit out of you.

“Running away, sweetheart?”

“Shit Jacob!” You’ve nearly jumped out of your skin, but gather yourself quickly and keep moving through your hangers. “How do you guys pack so easily, how do you know what to bring?”

“It’s simple, love, we never change our clothes. Mind if I ask, again, where you’re going?”

You push past him in the doorway and move to start folding things to put in your suitcase. He turns and follows you with his eyes as you continue to ignore his question. Crossing the room, he steps in behind you as you’re leaned over the bed and reaches around you to stop your hands from shoving another pair of jeans into the case.

“Stop, before you piss me off.” Your back stiffens at that, the authority in his tone sending a shiver down your spine that makes your toes curl. He slides his hands from yours, slowly up your arms until he’s spinning you around by your shoulders. Curiosity is lifting one of his eyebrows, the other drawn down and creasing the skin between them.

You’ve been waiting for this confrontation, thought you were ready for it but now that it’s happening, your palms are clammy with nerves. You try to wipe the anxiety from your expression, offering him your own quirked eyebrow and a sly smile.

“I’m taking a trip to Denmark.”

You watch a range of emotion flash across his face in just a few seconds, surprise, then confusion, followed by the dawn of understanding. Finally, excitement is alight in his eyes and you start to feel it too before the corners of his mouth pull downward.

“You’re coming with us. You can’t just up and come with us, this shit takes planning babe, scheduling, flights. We have a whole team that travels-“

“It’s taken care of.”

He’s still confused, understandably. “How?”

“Josh took care of it. I asked him to.” The nerves are back, sensing that he has more questions before he accepts this as truth.

He considers what you’ve told him so far, which is next to nothing, with his arms folded and a hand under his chin, running his finger over the small dimple there.

“For how long?”

“A month.”

“Baby, that’s the entire time we’ll be in Europe. What did you tell your job?”

“I quit.”

“You quit.”

“Two weeks ago. I put in my notice after Josh said he would handle the arrangements. Yesterday was my last day.”

You let him process it, not daring to move from your place in front of him, terrified that he’s going to tell you you’ve made a mistake. Your heart’s beating so rapidly that you’re sure you’re about to pass out, just before he unfolds his arms and takes both of your hands in his.

His voice is soft, sweet as cotton candy and spun up with the dreamy quality of disbelief. “You’re coming with me?”

Your fingers squeeze his, helping to ground you both in the reality of this. “I am. For as long as you’ll have me. I’ll look for a new job when we get back to the states, if that’s okay. I’m not sure wh-“

His kiss punches the air from your lungs and any other words from your brain, his hands thrown into your hair then sliding down your body until he hauls you off your feet. Arms and legs wrapped around him, you throw your head back and laugh until you truly can’t breathe. He watches from below, and he knows.

When you drop your forehead to his, he smiles back at you, that one that he now knows to be your favorite. He’d almost fucked this up, this moment that he’ll tuck away into his memory, but he’ll recall it later and it’ll be perfect.

“Forever. I’d take you with me forever, to every horizon.” Another kiss pulled from your lips, one of thousands, millions even. “I don’t give a shit if you never work again. I knew you wanted me to be your sugar daddy, sweetheart.”

The End 💔💔💔

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