#he sure is sparkling like a MARBLE STATUE �� (do they actually sparkle?? idk man it's probably just a figure of speech at this point) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

problematicfavesareproblematic · 4 years ago

Text

Our First Defeat

Chapter 1: You’ve Cut Me to the Bone

Uh, oh- guess what time it is? That’s right chicks, dicks, and everyone in betwix(t)....

It’s ‘another series that should’ve just been a straightforward one shot’ time!!!!

This is probably going to be at least a four parter, so buckle up buttercups.

Warnings: Smut, infidelity, oral, cum play, longing, ANGST, Lewis being a shitty husband to Katherine, run-on sentences, feels, probably OOC Nixy-poo, childhood f2l mention, mentions of prom sex so underage I guess(?), potty words, rich people parties, reader is tipsy when they boink but so is Nix and it’s pre-established desire so idk man

Special thanks to @sunsetmando for being my constant idea sounding board and cheerleader and to @liebgotttme and @mrsalwayswrite for their unfalteringly supportive praise despite my constant self-inflicted shit talking!

Title and chapter names will come from the first defeat by noah gundereson

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Say what you wanted to about Doris and Stan Nixon, but they sure threw one hell of a party.

Waiters in sharp suits, sparkling crystal glasses filled with golden champagne, marble floors polished to a near reflective shine- nothing but the very best for the engagement party for Mrs. Nixon’s baby boy.

If your heart hadn’t already become calloused from heartbreak, you probably would burst into tears.

You’d known the Nixons all of your life, and with Nixon being a year and a half your senior and his younger sister being three years your junior, the three of you had little choice to become anything other than close. Even when Lewis had grown old enough to get sick of girls and their games of dress up and make-believe, you and he still managed to get along.

You were both the oldest children in your families, and for a while you had also attended the same advanced reading course offered by your private elementary school’s librarian. Your shared love of books had bonded you nearly as much as your shared birth orders, and it wasn’t uncommon for your parents to find you both nose deep in one of your father’s large tomes of mythology.

It surprised no one that the two of you became close as you got older.

What did strike both of your families as odd was just how close you two stayed- especially when you both started attending your respective boy’s and girl’s boarding schools. You’d been each other’s penpals, school dance dates, and summer trip companions.

After your Junior prom, you’d lost your virginities to each other after polishing off two bottles of lethally strong port wine. Nixon, sex-drunk and just plain old drunk-drunk, had insisted that he’d done ‘other things’ with girls- that he wasn’t really a virgin but he’d yet to actually do the act.

As if he was worried that you’d make fun of him.

As if you’d think less of him for it.

Of course, things had changed once college came around.

He became busy with his studies, and you had thrown yourself into attaining your nursing credentials. He’d gotten a fair share of girlfriends and you’d had a few relationships of your own.

When your families would get together for holidays and birthdays, the two of you would inevitably sneak off and fuck until one of you decided that someone was going to notice your absences.

Then, after rejoining everyone else for an appropriately deemed amount of time, you’d rush off again to repeat the cycle. Sex with Lewis was everything you’d been told you shouldn't want- hard and desperate and just left of dirty but God did you love it. You loved the way your bodies fit together, the way his breath felt on your neck as he held onto you so tightly that you thought he might leave bruises. The way he kissed you as if he were drinking the air from your lungs, like he needed your lips in order to breathe, to live.

More than anything, you loved the ease that existed between you two- the way you both helped the other redress and how he would take your face in his hands and call you sweet things as he gave you languid kisses before giving you a wicked grin and guiding you both back to the party.

It wasn’t ideal, and more often than not you’d feel hollow again after a few days, but your trysts with Lew were the closest thing you had to a consistent relationship.

When Pearl Harbor happened, you’d made the decision to enlist as a field nurse. Nixon had begun to attend an Officer’s school, so you’d already started to resign yourself to the fact that this fling of yours could never be anything more than just that, a fling. Apparently he had, too.

You’d felt like you had been punched in the stomach when you heard about Katherine.

He hadn’t even told you that he was seriously seeing someone, let alone considering marrying anyone.

It had hurt more than you wanted to admit.

How you managed to keep a straight face when his mother proudly told you and your mother about the engagement, you’ll never know.

All you did know was that he’d made a choice, and it wasn’t you.

And you had to get over it.

Even so, it had still taken both your mother and your father to convince you to come to this party tonight. Your brother and sister had been allowed to stay home- they were still considered too young to attend such frivolous events.

Lucky bastards.

But you’d let your mother dress you in a velvet gown of indigo-violet decorated with rhinestones across the bodice and sleeves, allowed your younger sister to braid your hair in a halo around your head (despite your mother’s plea for you to wear it in a more fashionable and mature style) and even gotten a grumble of a compliment from your sulking teenage brother and greeted the Nixon’s with the same amount of warmth you always had.

If nothing else, finishing school had taught you well when it came to hiding your true feelings.

Katherine was the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen, her hair shiny and her skin perfect and her body curvy and tight in all the right places. Her sky blue dress draped across her form perfectly, as if it had been made for her.

Her hands were graceful and delicate- the perfect canvas for the huge diamond ring Nix had bestowed upon her.

To make matters worse? You liked her.

She was smart and well-spoken, with a habit of interrupting someone mid-sentence but that wasn’t enough to make you dislike her.

“Lew’s sung your praises for years,” Katherine had smiled smally after you’d introduced yourself to her. “it’s wonderful to finally put a face to the name….”

“It’s all lies, most likely,” you assured with a grin, a sudden realization hitting you. “Speaking of Little Lew—”

Katherine rolls her eyes and offers a conspiratory whisper.

“Pretty sure he’s stress smoking somewhere upstairs. I’ve been trying to get him to quit—”

You snort at that. “Then you are far braver than most, and you have my respect.”

You look over your shoulder, frowning as you took in the scene.

Turning back to Katherine, you give her a nod.

“I’ll hurry him along,” you murmur softly. “Drag him down by the ear if I’ve got to—”

“Consider my respect earned in kind, then.”

Sharing a smile, you politely excuse yourself and slip away up the stairs.

You had a feeling that you knew exactly where Nix was hiding.

The formal library was dark wood and warm leather, with deep seats and cigar smoke stained books that sat on shelves so high that even the tallest man needed to utilize the built-in ladder to reach the top.

As children, you and Lewis had spent countless hours reading of far-away lands and exotic adventures, darting back and forth between whatever book you’d decided on and the grand globe by the window to trace your fingers over countries neither of you would probably ever actually visit.

This room held your sweetest memories, as well as some of your racier ones.

Finding Lewis in here was only fitting.

He looked unbearably handsome- sat on the windowsill with the wind fluttering his hair across his forehead while the moon lit up his profile and made him look like some exquisite marble statue.

The cigarette between his lips reminded you of all the times he’d smoke after fucking you, the way he’d exhale the smoke into your parted lips before kissing you so deeply your toes would curl.

“I could get used to this,” he’d said, after one of your last trysts.

“What, smoking yourself to death in your dad’s library?”

He’d shot you a glare before attacking your neck with kisses that left you giggling from how they tickled your skin.

“No, Smartass,” Lewis said as he nudged your nose with his, a lazy smile clear on his face when he lifted his head away from you enough to meet your eyes. “This, with you. Not having to rush off before your mom comes looking for you. It’s nice….”

That felt like a lifetime ago.

“If you frown at the moon any longer,” you call out, smirking at the way he startles before realizing it’s just you. “You’re gonna get a wrinkle before all the wedding photos.”

He shoots you a look, shaking his head before turning to stub out the cigarette in the silver ashtray.

“Not even gonna lull me into a false sense of security before giving me shit, huh?”

With a practiced ease, he gently slides the window back into place and locks it, fanning the lingering wafts of smoke from around his face before turning to fully face you.

A familiar smile crosses his face that has you rolling your eyes.

“Well, I’ve gotta get all I can out of my system- now that you’ve gone and replaced me.”

With another withering look, Lew comes up and kisses your cheek before wrapping an arm around your shoulders and another around your waist to lower you into a dipped hug.

“Hey now,” he grumbles into the shell of your ear, his breath tickling your neck and causing you to shiver. “I think you’re underestimating your talents if you think anyone can fling smartass comments my way better than you- oh!”

Twisting you back up so you’re both standing, he pushes the door to the library closed to get to the bookshelf behind it.

With curiosity, you watch him pull a book from the shelf and present it to you with a flourish.

“A gift for you, my lady.”

Rolling your eyes, you take the book in your hands and peer at the cover.

You recognize the title immediately as a Poirot mystery, a grin breaking across your lips as you realize it’s one of your favorites- a collection of short stories featuring the Belgian detective and Captain Hastings.

As you open the book, you suck in a breath when you see the scrawl of Agatha Christie’s signature across the title page, and upon further inspection, you realize it’s a first edition.

“Holy shit, Lew…” you whisper, running your fingertip across the indents in the paper her heavy-handed scrawl. “Where’d this come from? How’d you know….?”

Looking up at Lewis again, you are slightly embarrassed by the amused expression on his face, deciding to look back down rather than acknowledge how clearly he was watching your reaction.

“Well,” he begins, stepping behind you to squeeze your shoulders. “It came from a bookshop, believe it or not—”

“Lewis—”

“And as for the how….Blanche told me in one of her letters.”

That gives you pause again- the reminder that you and he hadn’t written anything to each other in quite some time.

Clearing your throat, you set the book down on one of the desks and bring a hand up to rest over one of his. “That’s very…..thank you.”

You feel him press a quick peck to the crown on your head, something you were fine with until you left the pressure of his lips lingering there.

“I hope, uh…hoped you’d also take it as a sort of, er- peace offering, of sorts….”

You feel your shoulders tense at that. The blood in your veins suddenly feels cold and dead.

You’d hoped he wouldn’t do anything like this- wouldn’t bring any of this up.

“I’m sure I don't know what you’re talking about—”

“Yes you do.”

Sucking in a sharp breath through your nose, you turn around to face him.

“There’s nothing to offer peace for,” it’s taking more effort than you like to keep your voice even. “What you do with your life is none of my business.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that you should’ve heard about it from me,” he says quietly, and as his breath fans across your face you can pick up the sweet bite of whiskey beneath the smell of cigarette smoke. “That was….I should’ve been the one to tell you—”

“I don’t see why you felt you had to.” You give him a tight smile, working hard to keep yourself from scowling. “It’s not like we made any promises to each other….which I thought was the whole appeal of me, if I’m being honest.”

Lewis brings his hands up to brush against your jaw, the unexpectedly soft touch making you shudder before you can stop yourself

“You’ve got to have known that I’ve been in love with you since we were kids, Y/N—”

“Don’t say that,” you hiss under your breath, biting the insides of your lip and shaking your head. “That’s unfair, you can’t do this- it’s wildly unfair to Katherine, it’s not fair to me—”

Lewis scoffed at that, a rueful smirk twisting his face as he let his eyes trail down your face.

“‘Unfair’....what’s unfair is asking me to go down there and pretend like everything’s hunky-dory when you’re here, looking like everything I’ve ever wanted in my goddamned life and expecting me to act like I wasn’t wishing you were on my arm instead—”

“Jesus Christ, Lewis, that’s enough—” you cross your arms across your chest as you step back out of his touch and turn to look at the wall of books. “What’s the matter with you? I’ve always known you could be an asshole, but this is cruel, even for you—”

“How am I being an asshole?” he snaps, taking your shoulders and turning you back to face him, his frown deep and imploring. “Because I’m being honest? Huh? ‘Cause I’m telling you the truth—?”

“Because you’re telling me the truth now!” you say venomously, letting your own face morph into a scowl. “Tonight, the fucking night where we’re all here to celebrate you and Katherine getting married! You can’t just expect me to not respect that—”

“What if I told you I didn’t even want to marry her—?”

“Lower your voice!”

You don’t realize how close you’ve gotten to each other until you accidentally scuff your toes against the side of his polished shoe, something that shocks you out of your anger like a cold splash of water.

His cheeks are rosy with both drink and frustration, and you’re pretty sure that your face is flushed as well. Closing your eyes, you sigh and hang your head.

“If you didn’t want this,” you say a bit more calmly. “Then why did you ask her in the first place?”

You startle slightly at the feeling of him taking your hand, opening your eyes to watch him bring it to his clean-shaven cheek and hold it there. His eyes look tired, sad almost.

“Because I’m being shipped out soon,” he sighs heavily, twisting his head enough to press a kiss to your palm as the air whooshes out of your lungs in a pained sigh. “Because it’s what’s expected of me.”

Meeting your hesitant gaze, he offers a sad little smile and a shrug.

“Because it couldn’t be you, I didn’t really care who it was—”

Quickly, you take back control of the hand he’s holding and put your fingertips gently over his lips, your throat feeling tight at the admission.

“Don’t,” you whisper shakily. “Don’t finish that sentence….”

Taking your hand again, he moves it away from his mouth.

“Why not?” he says back just as quietly, eyes scanning your face. “Am I being an asshole?”

You shake your head, chest tightening as you take in his confession. “You’re breaking my heart all over again.”

He nods, his jaw clenching as he studies you. “I keep doing that, don’t I?”

When you don’t show any sign of amusement at his comment, he encourages you to wrap an arm around his neck as he pulls you into another borderline inappropriate embrace. A hug that was better suited for two lovers rather than two friends grieving a future that was entirely hypothetical.

His lips press to the side of your throat, inhaling the smell of your skin deeply and slowly.

“I don’t mean to,” he whispers, splaying his large hand across the small of your back. “I really want you to know that.”

You stay silent, focusing all of your energy into not crying.

Even if he had asked you to marry him, you would’ve had to say no.

Married women were unwelcome in all branches of military nursing- and you had worked too hard to ever consider giving that dream up.

Not even for Lewis Nixon….although you probably would’ve thought about it harder.

“I sometimes wish we’d never kissed,” you say with emotion in your voice, letting him hold you even closer at your hushed admission. “I wish I didn’t care about you, then we wouldn’t have to be like this…”

“I don’t,” he mumbled against your skin. “I wouldn’t take any of this back- even if I could.”

You shake your head sadly as you bring your other arm around his shoulders to more fully embrace him.

“That’s because you’re a masochist almost as much as you are a sadist—”

He groans at that, taking his face from your neck to press his cheek against yours.

“I knew getting you those Freud books was a mistake….”

This time you allow yourself to sigh a laugh. “Only because they seem to hit the nail on the head when it comes to explaining why you are how you are.”

“An asshole?”

“Yeah, Lew.” you gently break free of his embrace and smooth your hands down the front of his tuxedo- straightening his bowtie on the way. “Now you’re getting it.”

He looks as if he’s going to say something else, but you force a smile on your face and shake your head.

“C’mon, Mr. Nixon,” you say with a nod. “Your public awaits you. Best not keep them waiting.”

“Y/N—” He calls as you turn on your heel and walk to open the door.

“I’ll see you down there, Lewis.”

With that admonishing reminder, you open the door and hurry to find the restroom in order to collect yourself.

Dinner was going to be hell.

Of course, Doris sat you beside where Lewis was seated in the middle of the table- Katherine on his left and you on his right.

“Surrounded by his favorite girls,” Mrs. Nixon had cooed, standing behind Lewis’s chair and squeezing his shoulders excitedly. “What a lucky man you are….”

They had only just served the soup and already you wanted to crawl out of your skin.

The only things that saved you were wine and the endless stream of one-sided conversation from Katherine’s young cousin Marcus, who sat to your right.

He couldn’t have been more than sixteen- eyes wide and battle-hungry as he prattled on about the training courses he planned on enrolling in so that he could go to Japan and take revenge for the lives lost during Pearl Harbor. It served as a good distraction from the feeling of Lew’s eyes on your profile, silently begging you to turn and look at him.

You didn’t give in.

Marcus’s heart was in the right place, and it wasn’t his fault that you were trying to drown your distress in the sea of white wine you were creating inside of your belly.

But you had the feeling that if you had to listen to any more talk of what his brother had told him about the Navy and how prestigious their ships were, you were going to smack your head against the table until you passed out.

The only person who seemed to pick up on your distress was Lewis, and right now you were pretty committed to ignoring his attempts of conversation- hoping that by doing so you were strong-arming him into actually talking to Katherine, who was being so charming and well mannered that you felt like you were suffocating.

As you brought your fourth glass of wine to your lips, Lew decided to speak rather than just look.

“Think maybe you should slow down, Y/N?” Lewis says it quietly enough that only you and Katherine can hear him, and when you turn to face him you catch the sight of the other woman suppressing a chuckle into her glass of sparkling water.

A drop of resentment stains your previously high regard for her- her slight amusement being amplified to condescension in your current bitter state.

“Don’t worry ‘bout me, Little Lewie,” you say with a light slur in your voice- one that only those who truly knew you would be able to detect.

As a child, you’d had a slight speech impediment that you’d grown out of with proper training and practice. It was only when you were overly tired or when you drank that it slipped back into your speech.

You could feel that now, its presence heavy on your tongue.

“Just gettin’ it outta my system while I’ve still got the chance……”

When you're able to find his eyes with your own, you see the concern shining in them and suddenly feel like you want to cry.

You can’t help but think that this could’ve been yours- your engagement party, your future.

You’d say that the ring on Katherine’s finger could’ve been yours as well, but if you were being honest you found it too gaudy and flashy for your taste.

Lewis probably would’ve known that, too….would’ve chosen something significantly smaller and much more simple to present to you while down on one knee.

But he’s not mine, should’ve stopped thinking of him as mine a long time ago.

Without another word to him you slid your chair back from the table and stood, nodding appreciatively to the butler who instantly appeared to scoot the chair back into place.

Your mother, who was sitting closer to the door, gave you a worried look as you made to walk past her, silently asking if you were alright.

With a smile that didn’t reach your eyes, you gently placed your hand on her shoulder in false reassurement that you were just fine. You mouth the word ‘bathroom’, as you passed her and exited the dining room.

How you managed not to run up the staircase in search of somewhere you could let your mask of contentment fall away, you have no idea.

But you did. Your finishing school teachers would’ve been proud.

Rushing through the library you knew better than the back of your hand, you quickly found the small, slightly hidden room behind a sculpture that held all the wealth of paper and writing supplies.

The door barely shuts behind you before you suck in a shaking breath, face hot with tears you were refusing to shed. Each exhale sounds as if it’s being punched out of you, hands reaching out into the dark to feel for the wall so you can find the small footstool to sit upon.

You were right, you couldn’t do this.

It was too much, despite how desperately you’d tried to callous over the raw part of your heart that still ached for him. Resting your head in your hands, you try to slow your breathing, to muffle to sobs begging to be freed from your chest.

The sound of the door clicking open has you shooting to your feet in surprise, the wine in your blood making itself known as you teeter slightly and you have to brace your hand against the wall to steady yourself.

The snap of the light being turned on makes you squint at the sudden brightness, the sight of Lewis breathing heavily as he leans against the door to close it behind him making your heart race even faster.

“You shouldn’t-” you have to sniff quickly before finishing your admonishment. “You really shouldn’t be here, Lewis.”

He nods, his Adam's apple jumping in his throat as he swallows, eyes trailing up and down your body. “I know.”

Even as he says it, Lewis starts walking towards you. “I should go….”

Your own breathing has become deep and heavy, lips parted to accommodate the sudden desperate need for more air in your lungs.

Mind having failed you, you search for the right words to send him away- to tell him that what’s about to happen is wrong and that you’re just making it harder on yourselves in the long run.

But all you can think as he reaches you, his hands coming up to hold your face with an unmistaken intention, is that you are going to explode if he doesn’t kiss you right now.

Lucky for you, his thoughts seem to be similarly inclined.

He kisses you so hard that you think your lips will bruise, his hands pulling your face so desperately close that his eyelashes tickle your cheeks as his eyes squeeze shut.

As you moan somewhere deep in your throat, Lewis opens his mouth to swallow the sound. His hair is soft in your hands, your fingers fisting and pulling at it until he makes a groan of his own.

You allow yourself to rise up on your toes to make his head tilt back slightly, gasping into his lips when he suddenly uses his grip on your face to pull your mouth back from his.

He licks his bottom lip, whispering your name so you open your eyes and look at him with a heavy-lidded gaze.

“I-I don’t want to go without one more….” he seems to be at a loss for words, which for Lewis Nixon is truly unusual. But you think you can read his frustrated silence.

Your eyes search his dark ones, uncurling your fists from his roots to bring your thumbs to his forehead and smooth the concerned furrow in his brow.

“Okay,” you whisper, coming down off of your toes to brush your nose against his. “Then do it.”

As if your words were a racing gun’s shot, Lewis hungrily kisses you again- backing you up against the wall and clutching at you with carnal desperation.

You lose yourself in his fervor, scratching your nails down the back of his neck just shy of leaving a mark and moving to loosen his bowtie.

He catches your hands and pins them beside your head, squeezing them in a silent request to keep them there. You nod into the kiss, gasping for breath when he tears his mouth from yours and drops to his knees before you.

Looking down your body at him, you pant lewdly as you watch his hands disappear beneath the skirt of your dress and hurriedly pull your underpants down around your ankles.

The only patience he shows is in his careful assistance of helping your step out of them, but then he is immediately returning to his pilgrimage to the warm place between your thighs- bunching the deep violet-blue fabric in one fist while his other hand encourages your thigh up and over his shoulder.

He kisses you down there just as thoroughly as he had your mouth, licking the hot petals greedily to part the way to your clit before attacking it noisily and skillfully. Your head makes a dull sound as it lolls back to hit the wall, your hips surging forward at the gentle and unintentional scrape of his teeth against the soft flesh.

In an apologetic motion, the hand holding your dress beside your waist rubbing its thumb soothingly across your side.

You allow one of your hands to drop from beside your head to rest over his, your sigh of forgiveness getting lost in a breathy keen of pleasure.

“Shit,” you sigh, bowing your head forward to watch him look up at you from between your legs. “Jesus Christ, Lewis!”

Rather than take his mouth from you to reply, he elects to moan into your sex, the vibration striking somewhere deep inside of you that has your thighs quaking. Your eyes drift closed as he continues to suckle on you, the sound of him inhaling sharply through his nose making you feel dizzy with heady desire.

It had been almost a year since he’d last gone down on you- only because that was the last time you were afforded enough time for such foreplay.

And he’d only gotten better at it.

With careful yet distracted motions, he maneuvers the hand covering his so you are now holding your skirt up and out of the way for him. You open your eyes at the same moment you feel his fingers curl inside of you, an airy mewl slipping past your lips before you can stop it.

“I’m gonna cum,” you mumble stupidly down at him, finally bringing your other hand down to fist in his hair again as you begin to see the white-hot orgasm creeping into the sides of your vision. “Too soon….I’m sorry, it’s too soon—!”

His intentional humming around your bud paired with the cruelly perfect crook of his fingers sends your careening over the precipice of pleasure.

Your body shakes and your hips buck uncontrollably as he refuses to relent his near fervent milking of your orgasm.

You keep expecting him to stop, to pull away from you and start to seek his own release.

But he just doesn’t stop.

“What’re you doing?” you ask brokenly, keening into another moan as he slips one more finger inside of you. “Get up here and—ohhh!”

“Again, “ you hear him grunt into you with a near frantic tone. “Give me one more….”

You’re absolutely lost as he ushers you into another orgasm, mouth feeling dry from the open mouth panting you’ve had to resort to in order to remain lucid.

“I need you,” you whimper pathetically, your eyes open and unseeing as you gasp for breath in a vain attempt at cooling the fire burning in your body. “Please, I need you inside me….please, Lewis!”

It feels like he’s only just unsealed his lips from your sex when suddenly his tongue is in your mouth and his hand is cupped around the back of your head, kissing you languidly as your thrumming ears pick up on the soft sounds of fabric being untucked and trousers being shoved open and down.

Before you can manage to find the coordination to bring your hands down to help him free his cock, you feel him bringing the same thigh that had been over his shoulder up to hook around his hip.

With a familiarity that aches in both your heart and your core, you wrap your arm around his shoulders and nod into the kiss, just as you had that first time in your dorm room after the night of your Junior prom.

After one more soft peck, Lewis sheaths himself fully inside of you.

Your face twists at the abrupt fullness that stretches your sex to the sweet-stinging point that you ache for more often than you liked to admit, eyes flashing open in euphoric alarm as the man you’d loved since you were fifteen fucked into you with a punishing pace.

Apparently, he was just as desperate for you as you had been for him.

It’s now he who is making desperate noises that have to be muffled, his face buried into the slope where your shoulder meets your neck.

At some point, he’s managed to undo the button at the top of the back of your dress, nosing the fabric around your collarbones open so he can latch his lips to the flesh at the curve of your shoulder- worrying at the skin with tongue, teeth, and lips.

If you were in a teasing mood, you’d accuse him of having an oral fixation.

Lewis would make another comment about how much he regretted giving you the books by Sigmund Freud.

You’d try to offer some witty retort, only to be cut off by him pinching at your clit and biting at your lip.

It was so easy, everything with him just felt so good and comfortable and warmly familiar.

As if he can hear your thoughts, he presses his temple to yours so his lips are at your ear.

“It should be you,” he nearly whines. “I’ve only ever wanted you—”

The sob that bursts past your lips is so bitter and childish that even Lewis seems to notice through his haze, pulling his head back in time to catch sight of the tears rolling down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he grunts as he kisses the tears off of your skin. “I love you and I’m sorry.”

Just as your first moan had been, your first deep sob is captured by his mouth. Your lips are salty and you can feel from his shaking lips that he’s struggling to keep his own upset at bay.

The hand that was holding your thigh wraps around it to press a thumb against your clit, and you can’t stop the stream of babbling that follows the movement.

You can’t shut up about how much you love him and how angry you are with him and how badly you wished things were different.

“I know,” he mumbles to each admonishment and devotion you utter, his voice becoming tight as you intentionally squeeze down on him with everything that you’d got. “I know, I know, Please love me anyway, I know.”

It’s the sound of Lewis coming undone that sends you into your second orgasm, holding on for dear life as he brokenly thrusts into you a few more times before yanking himself away to spill himself onto the wall beside you- bracing his arm there as you blindly reach down to stroke him as well.

You both stand there, breathing as if you’d both just sprinted across the fields behind his house.

Using the wall as a support, you turn to face him and press your forehead to his sweaty temple, the hand of the arm against the wall moving to rest atop your head as he shudders and stills in your hand.

“Good,” you breathlessly praise him as you gently release his cock. “So fucking good….”

As you bring your hand to your mouth to suck it clean, Lewis curses lowly as his eyes follow the movement, like you’ve hurt him somehow.

Before you can reach your hand down to get more, Nix grabs your wrist and holds it in the air.

“Don’t you dare,” he whooshes out with an exhale, turning his head to kiss you deeply enough that you know he can taste himself. “I’m gonna fucking cum again if you do shit like that…”

You give him a small smile, pecking a quicker kiss on his lips.

“Didn’t think you’d be open to letting me lick it from you directly.”

His wicked smile is lazy, wrapping his arm around your waist as you make to push yourself away and twisting your bodies so he’s now the one leaning against the wall with you pressed against him.

‘Not yet,” he pleads into the crook of your neck. “Please, not just yet.”

And, because you’re a terrible and weak person, you stay.

When his fingers start to undo the buttons holding your dress together in the back, you shake your head.

“One more,” he murmurs as your dress starts to fall loose around your shoulders. “Just once more….”

Despite knowing how much you’re going to hate yourself for doing so, you nod and lower your arms so your dress pools around your feet.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Just once more.” ~ ~ ~ (HELLO I LOVE YOU AND SORRY FOR ANOTHER SERIES WHEN I HAVE ONLY EVER ACTUALLY FINISHED ONE BUT THIS IS WHO I AM AND IF YOU DON’T LIKE IT THEN I AGREE WITH YOU, TBH)

Taglist: @mrseasycompany @itswormtrain @mrsalwayswrite @happyveday @sunsetmando @ricksmorty @liebgotttme

also let me know if you want to be added to le taglist bc i am a silly lily who will forget unless i’m constantly reminded

also also here’s the dress i used for reference bc what are outfits

#band of brothers imagines #band of brothers x reader #lewis nixon x reader #problematicfavesareproblematic

108 notes · View notes