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restlessmaknae · 3 days ago

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words that started you & me // hanbin

After a particularly nasty injury and a year abroad, you go back to dancing, but it turns out that it’s still too difficult for you to trust someone else, even if it’s Sung Hanbin out of all people.

➳ Characters: dancer!Hanbin x dancer!female reader/you

➳ Genre: dance partners au, hurt/comfort

➳ Words: 2.5k

➳ Warning: mentions of injuries (sprained ankle, broken ribs, back injuries, blue and purple marks), period pain, hint at parental pressure, reader having flashbacks to her injury, reader's previous dance partner was a jerk

➳ A/N: This story was requested in my 1200 followers request event by the lovely @kukkurookkoo. Hope you enjoy it with all its angst! 💖

You still have time to request in the event, so check out the masterpost if you're interested *-*

You had always thought that injuries showed how excellent of a dancer you were. You had worn those blue and purple patches dotting your skin as a badge of honor, a testament to your hard work, to the many hours you put into practise, to the many falls you had taken and even more you were about to take.

You had always thought that you were invincible, an unbreakable diamond placed inside a metallic glass, strong and durable through and through. You had kept dancing even through muscle pain, period cramps and being sick. You had told yourself that this was the only way you could make it and cement yourself as the perfect dancer, the perfect performer and the perfect daughter.

Until your sickly twisted illusion had shattered into tiny pieces, and you had fallen into the darkness alongside your perfectly curated confidence and long-withstanding trust for dancing.

You were cautious when you met Sung Hanbin, but you were cautious with everything since your injury. Even though you wanted to start again on your own, not with a partner, it didn’t end well, so to hold you back from destroying yourself even further, your old dance teacher suggested joining one of her peers’ academy. You weren’t about to go back to the same one you used to attend, not when you could run into your previous dance partner any time, and see how fine he was when he had destroyed the one thing that you had worked so hard for.

So there you were, meeting your new dance partner for the first time who was said to be an ace, a boy who could defy gravity and push the boundaries of dancing with his excellent sense of rhythm and body control. One would think that he didn’t need a partner to shine if he was so good at what he was doing, but the teacher who paired you two up said that it was because he wanted to challenge himself given that he hadn’t danced with anyone before.

“Hello!” Sung Hanbin entered the practise room with ease and with the confidence of a boy who had been attending that exact same academy ever since he had started dancing. Compared to him, you must have looked out of place, masked anxiety laced with fear under that neutral expression of yours, but you held your chin up high nevertheless.

“Hello!” You greeted him back, eyeing him for a good five seconds when he walked up to you to properly introduce himself. Despite his reputation, there was nothing off-standish about him; he had worn-out sweatpants, sports shoes that had probably seen better days and an oversized white tee on, but it was the way he moved that told tales about the dancer he was. Elegant, fully in control of his every move yet relaxed limbs that were more defined than others his age.

“My name is Sung Hanbin. Nice to meet you. Please, take care of me,” he said it so eloquently, so perfectly as if he had been practising these lines over and over again, and bowed at a perfect angle out of respect. You wondered what the teacher had told him about you to act this way or whether he was generally this polite.

Either way, you shook off your questions and introduced yourself, reciprocating his gesture. He wore this genuine, relaxed smile that made you feel even more out of place than before. There was something about the way he looked so composed, so put together when you constantly felt like crumbling at the passing of a gentle breeze ever since you had come back from abroad.

He either didn’t notice your stoic expression or he thought that you were merely shy around strangers because he started talking about how excited he was to dance with you, and what kind of styles he had done before. Then, he asked about your side, and you were glad that the dance teacher came in at that moment because you weren’t sure that you could chat so easily about dancing. He might have been your new dance partner, but you weren’t ready to trust him.

The class went better than expected. The teacher probably took it into consideration that you had an on-and-off history with dancing in the past year because you didn’t start with a difficult choreography. The moves were loose, well stretched out to the rhythm of the song, and the first part didn’t involve any close interaction with Hanbin, only a part where you were standing in front of him and did the same moves in the opposite direction.

You monitored the two of you in the front mirror, and you could tell that the difference between you two were obvious, the way his muscles were ready to dance any given second and the way you were still a bit stiff, still just getting into it. Hanbin didn’t comment on it though, instead, he turned to you when the class was over and raised his hands for a high-five.

“We were good, weren’t we?” He flashed you a wide smile that not even the drops of sweat rolling down his cheeks could wash away.

You looked at him, trying with a smile, but you couldn’t get any words out, and maybe that was what pushed the boy to ask:

“Did I do something wrong?”

The way he asked was so sincere, so earnest, you had to look away to not see the genuine worry in his eyes because you didn’t deserve it. Besides, there was no use getting used to someone’s worry when they could hurt you anytime and not even apologise for it.

“Nope. It’s not you, it’s me,” you let him know before gathering your stuff and leaving him behind in the practise room.

Going back to dancing after taking time off due to your injury was like meeting an old friend: you were expecting to feel the same thrill, reminiscence about the good times together, but instead, all you felt was fear and anxiety over what could go wrong and how you could have messed it up so bad.

The only thing that helped you through this transition was Hanbin. At first, you were suspicious of him because he seemed too kind, too gentle, too positive, but after a while, you realised that was just who he was, and he wasn’t playing a part. Unlike you who had to put on your best act each and every time to not crumble like a sand castle swept away by the waves of the sea.

You were actually starting to feel more comfortable around him, something that you had not seen coming with your tendency to keep a distance from people since the injury, but then, the dance teacher decided to put a part into the choreography where you were supposed to spin out of Hanbin’s arms.

At first, you thought that you were fine. It had been a year since you had done that move, it was okay. It was supposed to be okay. There were no stairs around you after all, you weren’t even on a stage but in a practise room, and it was Hanbin beside you, not your previous dance partner. Yet, the flashbacks of that day, of that performance, of your injury came crashing down on you, and instead of spinning out of his arms, your legs stayed cemented into the ground, your left hand holding onto his right hand, your eyes closing in the meantime.

You heard your erratic heartbeat pulsating in your ears, making your head spin, your chest heaping up and down in a panicked manner. Your whole body froze in time, in the memory, in the past version of you, the one before you had gone through the worst year of your life. You were waiting for the crush, the excruciating pain in your leg, in your side, in your back. The needle-like feeling of the ache setting in, and the numbness that took hold of you afterwards.

You were waiting for all of it, and yet… none came. Instead, you heard Hanbin’s voice faintly, and both him and your dance teacher were around you when you dared to open your eyes. You didn’t even hear what they were saying, you merely held onto Hanbin’s hand while croaking out:

“Can we take a break… please?”

Your own voice sounded distant, unfamiliar, but as you broke through the remains of the flashback and heard your own words, the rest of the haunting feeling slowly faded away, and you heard your teacher’s answer clearly:

“Let’s finish class early today, and next time, we can talk about how to proceed with this part. Alright?” She suggested, her voice taking on a more gentle tone. She knew about your injury, so she must have sensed that you acted this way because of the flashbacks.

You bobbed your head, and once she was out of sight and you were sure that you stood on the ground firmly, you let go of Hanbin’s hand. The boy hesitated only for a short moment before he asked:

“What’s wrong? Is there anything I can do?”

You shook your head. No, nothing. No one could do anything to help this situation but you yourself, and you knew this, but still it was so difficult, and Hanbin… he deserved to know at least why you were acting this way. Even if you couldn’t word it, even if he couldn’t help it, you pulled your phone out of your bag and showed him the video of that performance.

“You aren’t standing in the centre,” Hanbin noticed right away, and you just hummed in agreement.

Before you had your dry rehearsal, your dance partner had been texting his girlfriend when you had been instructed about the position of the cameras and the lights and which sticker plastered onto the ground you should stand behind. He had done the dance routine with you, but when the time had come for the actual performance, he had chosen the wrong sticker though you had told him that he had been wrong.

“I’m never wrong. I’ve been dancing for longer than you have,” he had told you off and though you couldn’t have seen his expression in the dark because the lights had been off between the performances, you had a feeling that he had been furious. Thinking that it might not be that big of a problem, you had positioned yourself taking his starting position into consideration, not your rehearsed one.

Hanbin let out an exasperated gasp when the audience in the video did the same. You had been spinning out of your partner’s arms full speed even though you had whispered to him to hold on, but he had let go. Instead of saving both of you from falling down the stairs at the edge of the stage, he had foolishly let you go, letting you stumble down the flight of stairs in your high heels and thin, skin-tight dress. You had a severely sprained ankle alongside a broken rib and back injury. You had immediately cried out from the pain, and you saw Hanbin wince when he heard your voice through the recording.

The video came to an end right then and there, and there it was, the reason behind your step back from dancing, the reason you could only have theoretical classes during your exchange program for uni because you couldn’t actually teach a dance lesson when you were advised by doctors not to. The thing is, you could have chosen to go back on the year abroad opportunity, but you had been so sick of everyone treating you with pity, knowing that you had been the girl who had fallen down the stairs that you had chosen to go away. To run away.

If only coming back wouldn't hurt so bad…

“I’m so sorry. I can’t even comprehend how it must have felt, and…”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off, pocketing your phone. You had watched that video over and over again, so much that it felt like it had become a part of your identity. Ironically so, the last year had more or less taken dancing away from you, but it had given you this memory, something that now you carried with you wherever you went.

You saw the exact moment Hanbin’s calm expression changed, how it shifted into rage and frustration – so unlike him – that you embraced the storm before it even hit.

“It’s not okay. He shouldn’t have let go when he had seen the edge of the stage, he shouldn’t even have stood to the side in the beginning. What’s more, he should have reached after you, did anything, literally anything to help you break your fall, but he just stood there!”

You had screamed these sentences at the top of your lungs over and over again, but had never heard it from anyone, much less someone as gentle and composed as Hanbin. It surprised you so much that you found your facade slipping, cracking, breaking with each of his enraged words, your tears accompanying the downfall.

“You’re right. It’s not okay. It’s never been okay,” you admitted through the curtain of your tears, your voice breaking by the end.

Hanbin immediately closed the distance between you two, and put his arms around your fragile frame, shining some light onto the darkness, empathy onto the hurt, as he let you cry the tears you had been suppressing ever since you had come back to Seoul.

Time had seemed to stop when you had come back to Seoul after your year abroad. However, the more you let yourself break through the shield that the past had built around you, the more you realised that time didn’t stop, rather, it was you who made time stop by being stuck in the past memories.

Hanbin helped you make new ones, and by allowing him to guide you through your new dance journey, you began to trust him. Not just with the choreography, but with your past and your vulnerabilities. It wasn’t easy, but he was there to hold you, to be someone you could hold onto, and he was patient even when you momentarily built walls around you and your feelings.

Beside him, you realised that injuries were not an accomplishment, rather, something you should tend to as soon as possible, and let them heal even if it took time – the same applied for both physical and emotional injuries. Beside him, you weren’t terrified of falling because he held you steady and strong, his care for you just as unwavering as his support while dancing.

For the first time in a long time, you were willing to put your past behind you and start anew – in the moment, in the present, in the company of Hanbin.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this story of mine! Let me know what you think!

Click here for my ZB1 masterlist!

If you want to read more stories of mine, let it be for ZB1 or for other artists, consider signing up for my taglist here. 🥰

Header taken from the 'Good So Bad' MV, story title taken from 'HELLO'.

Hope you have a lovely day/night! Take care! ❤️

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playstation-dreamcast · 2 days ago

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Hey, I've noticed a severe lack of Chris content so I decided to take matters into my own hands

Now Presenting...

Summary: Your shitty boyfriend has canceled plans, yet again. This time on Valentines Day of all days. Heartbroken, you decided to call you childhood best friend who offers to take you out to the Valentines Day carnival instead, thus kicking off your friends to lovers arch. 10.7k words

Content Warning: This story contains slightly possessive themes, marking, and smut. Viewer discretion is advised. Reader has fem anatomy, generally gender neutral minus one reference to makeup

“What do you mean he canceled?” Chris’s voice cracked through the speaker on your phone, “It’s Valentine's Day, what could possibly be his excuse this time?”

You sighed as you flopped onto your bed, “He said he’s putting in overtime at work.”

“And his dick in his secretary.”

“Chris!” you chastised. You knew he was right, but you didn’t want to be reminded of it.

“Sorry,.” he said in that way that made it incredibly clear he wasn’t sorry at all. “What I meant to say was: that’s a really shitty excuse.”

You chuckled a bit, “Wanna know what makes it worse?” you asked.

You heard Chris let out an exasperated sigh. “What?”

“He’s salary.”

“Oh, you gotta be kidding me.” You knew your boyfriend's excuse of ‘I’m going to be at work late to meet this deadline (that’s two months away)’ was bullshit. But hearing just how pissed off Chris got about it put it into perspective just how bullshit it was. It felt vindicating.

“I’m going to kill him, you know.” Chris said.

You shook your head, as if he could see. “No you’re not.”

Chris was silent for a second. “I’m going to punch him?”

You rolled the thought around in your head. “Hmmm...Yeah, I’d allow that.”

“I’m going to punch him,” he said with a conviction that told you he really meant it. You smiled softly to yourself. You’d known Chris for forever, having met while you were in the foster care system together. He’d always been protective over you, and it was nice to know some things never changed.

Chris let out an agitated huff on the other end of the line. “So what’s the plan?” He asked.

You scoffed. “What’s the plan? The plan is getting back into my pajamas and watching shitty reality tv to make myself feel better.”

You didn’t have to see it to feel the indignation on his face. “You’re kidding? But you already got dressed and everything.”

“Thank you, Chris,” you groaned, “I was actually really hoping you’d rub salt in the wound. That’s why I called you, specifically.”

“I’ll take you out.”

“What?” You sat up in bed.

“I’ll take you out!” He said again, this time more sure of himself. “It’s not like I’m doing anything tonight, and unlike your ‘boyfriend,’ I’d be honored to take you out.” He spat out the word “boyfriend” as if it tasted like rot in his mouth, especially to give the label to your current partner.

You felt yourself fluster. “Chris-”

“It’s not a date.” He was quick to clarify. “It’s just…two friends hanging out on Valentine's Day, it doesn’t have to be anything more than that.”

You bit your lip as you thought about it. If your boyfriend found out, he would be pissed. He’d never liked Chris, always convinced that he ‘just wants to fuck you.’ This would only add fuel to his fire.

“Yeah, okay,” you finally said. There was no use in wasting a perfectly good outfit just sitting at home. And you had just spent an hour and a half on your makeup, so fuck it. Might as well hit the town with your best friend.

You could hear the smile in Chris’s voice. “Sweet! I’ll pick you up in an hour?”

You smiled, getting up to look yourself over in the mirror and make sure you still looked presentable. “Sounds good,” You agreed, “I’ll see you then.”

💘💘💘

You were checking over your outfit one last time when the doorbell rang. Chris had told you to dress warm, so you did just that. And honestly, you felt pretty cute! “Coming!” You called as you rushed to the door.

Chris was smiling on the other side, arm tucked behind him. “Hey,” he said, as he presented you with the bouquet he was hiding behind his back. “You look beautiful tonight.”

You were shocked as you took the flowers from him. “Awe, you didn’t have to do that,” you said, looking over the array. You smiled as you noticed the most prominent flower. Chris would have your favorite flower memorized.

He laughed, following you inside as you went to grab a vase. “Of course, I had to do it. Everyone deserves flowers on Valentine's Day.”

You returned with the bouquet, placing it in the middle of the coffee table. “How do you know if I got flowers today or not?” you sassed, “I do have a partner you know.”

Chris gave you a look. He said your name, unamused. “Come on.”

You sighed, “yeah, well, you’re right. All he got me today was frustration.” You shook your head, trying to shake the disappointment out.

Chris noticed. He gave you a smile, and held out his elbow for you to take, determined not to let you dwell. “Shall we?” he asked.

You took it with a soft giggle. “We shall.” You nodded as he led the way out the door and to his car. An old clunker of a car, held together with duct tape and pure hubris on Chris’s part. It wasn’t even like he couldn’t afford a new one, or at least to replace it. He just insisted that this one ran fine, which was technically true, so why go into debt?

Luckily, he kept it a lot cleaner these days than he did in highschool. You realized the interior was actually really well kept. “Since when did you stop treating your car like a trashcan?” you asked, before realizing that one probably should have gone through the filter once or twice more before being let out. “Sorry,” you quickly added.

Luckily, he took it on the chin with a laugh. “Since like, five years ago when I realized I should probably take care of my investments. Are you really only noticing now?” As embarrassing as it was to admit, yeah you were. You felt kinda bad, it’s not like you didn’t hang out with Chris as often as you guys could. And you had been in his car countless times in the last five years, this really shouldn’t have been news to you. You guessed you just hadn’t thought to look.

You shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so. I guess it’s normally pretty dark when I’m in your car. I’ve never really seen it in the daylight.”

Chris looked out the window at the setting sun, then looked at you and smiled. “Yeah, that makes sense.” he shrugged, using one arm to drive and letting the other rest on the center console.

You wanted a distraction, so you went straight to the CD binder he still kept in his glove box. “Anything you wanna listen to?’ You asked.

He shook his head, “Whatever you want. It shouldn’t be a long drive anyway.” He informed you. With that in mind you flipped through the collection. The usual suspects were all here, as always. Queen– obviously, Kiss, Journey, Rolling Stones, all the classics you’d grown up on, as well as some new faces! Blink 182 was unexpected, Green Day less so. At some point he’d taken your advice and finally checked out Nirvana. He seemingly liked ‘em enough to look into the Foo Fighters.

Specifically, he’d picked up the album The Colour and The Shape. Which, just so happened to have one of their finer songs on it, in your humble opinion. Chris said the ride wouldn’t be a long one, so you popped the CD in and skipped straight to track eleven: Everlong

If Chris was a dog, his ears would have perked up. “Ooo, good choice.” he smiled his approval, nodding along with the opening riff.

You shrugged, “Well, it was either this or Californication”

He laughed fondly, “Damn, it’s actually been a minute since I listened to that one.” He confessed. “Do you remember when it first came out?”

“Yes!” You laughed, “We raided a 7-Eleven and drove around all night listening to it on repeat,” You remembered that night fondly. Driving down all of the back roads running on pure nothing more than high-fructose corn syrup and the kind of adrenaline that only came from laughing with your closest friend in the entire world at three AM.

Chris grinned. “I remember you trying to analyze the lyrics, despite the fact the Red Hot Chili Peppers are a pure vibes band only,” he teased.

You brushed him off, “All art is made to be interpreted.”

“Guess you’re right,” He conceded, “Still. That was a nice night.” He smiled, and for a second, with the setting sun casting the perfect hazy halo around him. You realized just how handsome Chris actually was. When he was laughing and laid back, when the lowlight made his grey eyes pop, he seemed almost too good to be true. These were all thoughts that you shouldn’t really be having about your best friend.

You needed a distraction. You looked out the front windshield to find anything worth commenting on. Luckily, you spotted something right away.

“Is that a ferris wheel?” you asked, pointing out the window.

He grinned, clearly proud of his date-that’s-not-a-date location. “Yeah!” He confirmed, “I guess the town wants to do an annual Valentines Day fair now. This is the first one.”

You tilted your head a bit to get a better look at him. “Isn’t that just a little bit corny?”

“Yeah, well, you try to plan a date that’s not at all corny, see what you come up with,”he said defensively as he looked for a place to park.

You raised an eyebrow. “ I thought this wasn’t a date.”

Chris didn’t miss a beat. “It’s not,” he reaffirmed. “But it is, maybe, a historical event for the town that I figured we should get in on.”

“Yeah, but also you called it a date,” You pointed out.

“Uh, actually, I said, ‘You try to plan a non-corny date’ not ‘this is a date.’ Those are two different things,” he said with an over dramatic head roll. “So checkmate.” He laughed at his own exaggerated display, which caused you to laugh with him.

You shrugged, “Whatever it is, as long as I get a funnel cake, I’ll be happy.” The cold hit you as you stepped out of the car. You had on one of your thicker coats, but it was still February, and there was going to be a chill in the air no matter how many layers you wore. It was to be expected.

What was to be slightly less expected was Chris’s arm finding its place around your shoulders, holding you close to him and blocking the wind with his body. He didn’t say anything about it, so you didn’t say anything about it. You’d never been scared of affection in your friendship, hugs were a common occurrence. This shouldn’t have even been noteworthy.

The sun was now fully set, letting the rainbow lights of the fair take center stage as the two of you lined up for tickets. It was surprisingly short, no doubt due to people just not really wanting to deal with the cold. It was a pleasant surprise, and you’d happily take the win. You listened to the sound of laughter and carnival music filling the air as Chris handled the ticket situation. You hadn’t been to a fair in years. No real reason why, you just hadn’t really considered going to one. Life just tended to get in the way of things like that.

You found yourself actually really excited. “Come on,” Chris pulled you out of your daze, “Funnel cakes this way.” You smiled as you huddled closer to him and followed him to the various food trucks and pop up booths.

The deep fried smells of a festival were always pleasant, inviting you to over indulge in whatever monstrosities the carnies had come up with this year- your arteries be damned. You found yourself shaking with excitement as you approached the booth. Or maybe that was the cold. Who knows!

“Man, I can’t remember the last time I had a funnel cake,” He confessed as the two of you joined a line.

You nodded in agreement. “Me either honestly,” You admitted, “I can’t remember the last time I’ve been to a carnival.”

Chris thought for a minute. “Me either actually. That… Kinda sucks.”

“Yeah, it does. Honestly I always have a lot of fun at them, ya know?”

“Yeah, I agree,” He smiled at you, “We’ll have to make a tradition of going every year. Well, assuming you haven’t dumped your current loser for someone better by then.” he shrugged.

You huffed an almost laugh and shoulder checked him gently. “Or that you haven’t found a nice girl by then.”

He actually laughed at that. “Yeah, right.” He rolled his eyes dismissively, and before you could argue he was ordering the funnel cake. He looked back over to you, “You okay with sharing?”

“Oh yeah, that’s fine,” You said nodding and with a wave of your hand. You knew they charged way too much for what was essentially an ugly powdered doughnut.

But god, was it a delicious ugly powdered doughnut. Money was exchanged and the two of you moved to the side to wait. “So, how much do I owe you?”

He looked at you as if you had just sprouted a second head and started speaking Klingon. “Why would you owe me?” he asked back.

Now it was your turn to look at him as if he had turned bright green and started speaking backwards. “Beeeeecause I plan to eat half of it? I figured I would at least pay for half?”

“No.”

“No? What do you mean no?”

“I mean no,” he laughed. “I’m taking you out to help you feel better that your shitty boyfriend stood you up, I’m not gonna make you pay for the comfort food. What kind of jackass would that make me?”

You blinked at him.

He blinked back. “He makes you pay when you go out, doesn’t he?”

“Sure does.”

“Do you at least take turns paying?”

“Well, it’s normally my treat if I ever actually get him to go out.”

“....Does he at least pay for his half?”

“Sometimes?”

Chris blinked incredibly aggressively at you. “I hate him.”

You nodded. “I know you do.”

He shook his head. “Genuinely I don’t get what you see in him. There’s like, literally a billion other guys in the world, you could have your pick of any of em.” He made a quick turn to grab the cake.

You simply shrugged. “Not sure who else would put up with me.”

“Okay, so first off, no one is putting up with you,” he informed you. “Second off, I know at least ten guys off the top of my head that would go crazy for your number.”

“Is that Leon guy Claire keeps bringing to the Christmas party one of them?” You teased as you picked some fried dough off the plate. There were few joys in this life as pure as warm funnel cake.

Chris grimaced. “No. Well, yes, but no.”

You tilted your head. “Explain.”

Chris shook his head, “You don’t want him. He’s still hung up over a chick that got him shot.” He said as he popped a piece into his mouth.

Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head. “She shot him?!”

Chris quickly shook his head, waving his hand and trying to swallow the dough in his mouth so he could explain. “No no no no no, She got him shot. Like, he took the shot for her, she was not the one behind the trigger. To my knowledge.”

“Oh, okay. That is less bad.” You admitted with a nod as you took some more of the cake.

“Though, she has left him for dead at least twice.”

You nearly choked on the cake. “You’re right, I don’t want anything to do with…whatever that is.”

Chris chuckled and nodded, “Yeaaah. Don’t get me wrong, I love Leon to death, he’s a great guy. But much like you he has a habit of only wanting the worst people for him.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but then realized you had no real rebuttal. So you shrugged instead. “What can I say? I really know how to pick em! I just, don’t know how to pick em well I guess.” You laughed at your own poor judgement and ate another piece of the cake.

Chris did too. “It’s fine,” he teased. “That’s what I’m here for. To let you know when you picked trash.”

“Not that I ever listen to you.”

“At least you can admit you never listen to me.” He laughed, showing off his full smile. You noticed just how cute his dimples actually were.

And then you noticed the powdered sugar on his nose. “Chris,” You giggled as you reached over. “You look like you party a little too hard on the weekends.” You joked as you wiped the powder away.

He pulled away, still giggling, “Christ! Your hands are cold!” He said, shaking his head, “We gotta do something about that.” He leaned back in, his grin mellowing into a soft smile as he looked at you.

For some reason, you suddenly felt… shy?? Why the fuck did you feel shy? It was just Chris. “Well, what do you suggest?” you asked.

“Hot chocolate,” he said with absolute certainty. “Best thing on a cold day.”

You nodded as you threw the now empty plate into the trash, “Sounds good to me!” You agreed as you moved to leave.

Only for him to catch your wrist and your breath to catch in your throat. “Hold on,” he muttered, turning you back to him. “You got something on your cheek too.” He reached up, cradling your face in his palm and gently using his thumb to wipe the sugar away. He was gentle, using a delicate hand normally reserved for priceless works of art, or divine artifacts.

And when your eyes met his, you could tell that’s exactly what he thought he was handling. No one had ever looked at you like that. No one had ever smiled at you like that. At least, not that you had noticed before. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest.

You stepped back, “Thanks!” You smiled, though you had to wonder if your nerves came through in it. “Now, come on! You brought up hot cocoa and that’s all I can think about now.”

Chris nodded, moving to keep up with you. “Right.”

It was a cold winter’s night, so more than a few of the food stands were advertising cheap hot drinks. The issue was none of them were actually cheap, as is the tradition with any sort of fair. Chris didn’t seem to mind though, which was becoming increasingly frustrating.

“Chris, please,” you sighed. “You already paid for the tickets, and the funnel cake, just let me pay for the hot cocoa.”

He shook his head, as stubborn as a boulder. “No way. I already told you I’m not making you pay for a thing, especially not when I’m the one that invited you out.”

You gave an agitated huff, hoping he could feel the lasers you were trying to shoot at him with your eyes. “I feel bad.”

“Why?” Chris asked, “There’s nothing to feel bad about, I want to do this for you.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes. “Fine, but I’m only going to make you buy one. We’re just going to have to share.”

Chris shrugged, finally stepping into one of the shorter lines. “Fine by me.” You rolled your eyes yet again for emphasis, but stood next to him while pretending to pout. You shoved your hands under your arms to try and keep them warm, and nestled your face deeper into your coat. He wrapped his arm around you again, pulling you closer into his warmth.

You looked up to see him smiling down at you. “Thank you.”

You gave him a puzzled look. “For?”

“Letting me take you out tonight,” he shrugged with the arm he wasn’t using to hold you, “I’m having fun.”

You couldn’t fight the affectionate smile that crept onto your face. “I’m having fun too,” you admitted, leaning into him almost instinctively. This was nice. You tried to remember the last time you felt so comforted, but sadly drew a blank. If you had to take a guess, it was probably when you first started dating your current “partner.” He had been so loving and attentive in the beginning, a far cry from the asshole he was now. You used to hold out hope that things would go back to how they used to be. That this ice between you was only temporary, and once he got over whatever it was that was bugging him, he’d go back to being the man he used to be.

You were starting to accept the fact he never would. You didn't have too much time to dwell on it though, as Chris placed the hot paper cup in your hand. The warmth felt nice, and you instantly wrapped your other hand around it too.

“Well? How’s it taste?” He asked.

You took a sip, expecting the worst, as is common with simple yet over priced drinks, only to be pleasantly surprised. Your eyebrows went up as you took another sip. “It’s actually really good!”

Chris smiled, happy to see you pleased with the drink. “Oh yeah? Let me try,” He asked as you handed him the cup. His reaction mirrored yours. “I’m gonna be honest, I was expecting hot water. That’s actually not half bad.”

“Right?” You laughed.

He handed you the cup back. “Here, you hold onto it,” he said. “Keep your hands warm.”

You happily took the drink, but still tilted your head at him. “What about you?”

He shrugged, “I’ll live.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him. “Oh come on Chris. You don’t have to be so self-sacrificing all the time, ya know.”

He laughed defensively. “What? I’m not ‘self-sacrificing’ just cause I’m letting you warm up a bit.” he said as the two of you started to walk together again.

“Whatever,” you shrugged, taking his hand in your now significantly warmer hand, “If you’re not gonna warm yourself, I’ll just have to do it for you.” you said as you took another sip.

Chris smiled. “Works for me,” He said as he took the cup for another drink, then quickly handed it back to you. The thought that his lips had been where yours had slipped into your brain almost undetected. Almost. When it transformed into “It’s almost like an indirect kiss,” you took notice. You thought about what it would have been like to actually kiss Chris. To hold him close to you and feel his stubble tickle your skin. To have him wrap his arms around you, to maybe even hold your face like he did before. His lips looked soft.

You snapped yourself out of that right the fuck away. Absolutely not, you were NOT allowed to think of Chris that way. You’d never thought of him like that before, you had no idea what had gotten into you.

Okay, well, maybe it wasn’t quite true that you had never thought of Chris that way before. You had been friends since grade school, it was only natural that at least once during all those years of close friendship you’d consider it. But it was never seriously, never for more than a fleeting second. He was your closest confidant, you couldn’t risk it.

But something about tonight felt so different from all the other nights before. Something in the way he moved and laughed; it felt so safe and warm, more so than usual. Something in the air made it feel like a risk worth taking.

NO. NO. STOP IT. You bit your own tongue to ground yourself back in reality. The reality where you were in a relationship and Chris was just your friend and absolutely nothing more. He said it himself, this wasn’t a date. How fucking cliche would it be to catch feelings for your best friend on Valentines Day night at a fucking lovers festival? What was this, shitty fanfiction? Absolutely not.

Oh shit, Chris had been talking this whole time and was looking at you now expecting you to speak. Fuck. “Uh, yeah no, you’re totally right, I also think exactly what you think. Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Chris raised an eyebrow at you. “You weren’t listening were you?”

“I was!” You said, far too defensively for someone who was actually listening.

Chris smirked with amusement. “Oh yeah? Then what was I talking about?”

Your stomach dropped. “Uhh… The band Queen?’

“Lucky guess.”

“All I’m hearing is that I win.”

He laughed at that. “Don’t you always?” he asked.

It was at that point you spotted it. Hanging over with one of the carnival games, a grand prize to be won. It was a 4ft tall, grumpy, green, wolf plush. One with a cartoonishly exaggerated frown and angry eyes. You couldn’t help but think that was what Chris’s fursona would look like if he had one, and it made you laugh.

Which caught Chris’s attention. “What?” he asked, looking behind himself to where you were staring.

“Look!” You pointed with childish excitement. “That wolf over there, it’s so cute!” You gushed.

“What, the green one?” he asked, already leading the two of you over to the game, “What’s so funny about it?”

Oh. You absolutely could not tell him it was because it reminded you of him. “It’s just so cute!” You giggled. “Look how angry it is, it’s precious!”

Chris grinned at your excitement. “Yeah? Bet I can win it for you.”

“Oh please,” you were about to argue about how these games were all rigged, but before you could, the guy running the game started talking.

“Step right up guys, and win your gals a prize!” Okay, well that was heteronormative to say the least. “Game is simple, shoot the cupid, win your doll a doll. The more you shoot, the better the prize.”

You could already see the over confident gleam in Chris’s eyes. “How much to play?’ He asked.

“Just two tickets my friend.”

Chris grinned at you quickly before turning back to the carnie and handing him two tickets. The man handed Chris the airsoft gun as he went to start the game. He looked at it and frowned a bit, staring down the sight. “What is it?” you asked.

Chris shook his head, “Nothing I can’t handle.” Before you could question him further, the Entry of the Gladiators started playing and the two rows of cupids started moving on the track, bouncing up and down as they went. Chris took aim, taking the time to get the vibe of how fast the targets moved and bobbed. Then he fired.

And missed by a mile and a half. You were honestly gobsmacked to see how hard he whiffed that shot. You knew Chris to be a master marksman, so what the hell happened here?

Chris seemed undeterred though, almost as if he expected it. What unfolded next could have been described as embarrassing. You, on the other hand would prefer to describe it as harrowing, brave even. You would have preferred to do so. Even you had to admit this was a bit painful to watch.

In the end, he shot two. “Sorry big guy,” the man running the game said, handing Chris a small stuffed monkey as a consolation prize.

Chris shook his head and held up his hand, “Keep it,” he said. “That was just a practice round.” And he handed the man two more tickets.

The carnie seemed genuinely a little shocked. “Whatever man, it’s your money dude.” He muttered.

Entry of the Gladiators started again, and both you and the carnie braced for another embarrassing display. This time it was like a completely different man had taken the gun. Every shot was a dead ringer, knocking out the plywood cherubs with the speed and precision far more fitting of a man with Chris’s reputation. The game normally gives you three minutes to shoot as many targets as you could.

Chris knocked them all out in half that time. His smile was cocky enough that it would have been punchable if not so well earned. “Well, I think that went better the second time around, what do you think?” he asked.

The game runner just blinked. “Uh, I mean yeah! Very impressive sir!” he said, slipping back into character, “You’ve won anything on the wall, pick your prize!”

“The green wolf,” he pointed. The man handed him the plushie, and Chris in turn handed it to you.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “What was that?!”

Chris tilted his head, “Hmm? Oh, you mean the first round? The sight on the gun was misaligned, it’s how they rig it. I needed to get used to the actual aim.” He shrugged, acting nonchalant despite how happy he was to have his ego stoked.

“So you needed a whole round to get used to it?” You asked.

He laughed. Well, It wasn’t really a laugh. More like one quick, exaggerated HA! Before he explained. “No.” He shook his head, “No, I threw the first round cause I thought it was funny.” He grinned.

You laughed and playfully pushed his shoulder. “You’re a jerk,” You teased.

“How am I a jerk!?” He laughed.

“I don’t know, I just know you are one!”

“Oh, well, yeah okay that’s fair enough.” The two of you giggled together as you walked.

You smiled as you hugged your prize close. “Well thank you. I appreciate the effort.”

He looked at you with soft eyes. “You’re worth the effort.”

You felt that familiar warmth radiate in your chest again, and hid your face in the wolf to hide any signs that his words affected you. Chris finished off the hot chocolate, throwing the empty cup away in a nearby bin. It was getting late. “You know what would be the perfect way to end the night?”

“Hmm?” you asked, looking up.

“We should ride the ferris wheel.” He grinned. You couldn’t agree more.

💘💘💘

Before you knew it, you were cozying up to Chris on the bench of the ferris wheel seat, toddler sized plush wedged firmly between you and the short wall of the basket, pressing you just that much closer to Chris.

Not that you were complaining. As the ride started, you found yourself drawn to his side. He radiated warmth, and comfort, and you were tired of fighting the urge to press yourself into him. He gladly accepted your presence, wrapping an arm around you to keep you close. A silent act of affection he’d been doing all night, made to feel just that little bit more intimate due to the tight space.

You looked out into the park as the wheel went up. The view was breathtaking, the colors sparkling against the night sky. The higher you got, the more of the town came into view, a warm glow framing the rainbow of the fair.

“The view’s gorgeous,” you whispered, looking over to Chris.

“Yeah, it is,” he muttered. Had he been looking at you this entire time? You weren't sure. What you were sure of, was that Chris looked… different in this light. The technicolor glow danced across his face and in his grey eyes, making him look softer all the way up here. Was his jaw always that sharp, or was the scruff just doing a lot of good work for him? Was his smile always that welcoming, his arms always this safe, his eyes always so bright with affection? It was like you were seeing him– really seeing him for the first time since he and Claire walked into that group home all those years ago.

He wasn’t a scared little kid anymore, or an overly rebellious teenager. At some point, he had grown into an entire adult when you weren’t even looking. Or maybe you just hadn't thought to look. Your heart rattled your ribs, like a crazed animal trying to get out of its cage. And for the first time tonight, you let it.

How had you missed it? You’d spent so long chasing the inferno of love, you’d never even stopped to consider that you already felt it. Right here, sitting next to your best friend. The one person in the world that could ever truly understand. He’d always treated you like you were important, like you were precious. You hadn’t realized just how much you’d taken it for granted before.

He had a gentle look in his eye you didn’t quite recognize. Something intense, and full of adoration. He bit his lip, and you thought that should be illegal. It was a dangerous look on him. You shouldn’t feel this way. You had a boyfriend. You had a partner who was paranoid enough about Chris as is. Of course, nothing was keeping you from taking the trash to the curb. You couldn’t believe this was the first time that thought had occurred to you.

Chris held you just a fraction tighter, and said your name like it was a soft prayer. You felt your heart do backflips you hadn’t previously thought it capable of. So this was what people meant when they said they had butterflies in their stomach. “Chris,” you whispered back.

The hand that wasn’t wrapped around you gently came to cradle your face. He let out a small breath, choking back all the things he wanted to say but couldn’t. “I…I love you, you know.” It wasn’t an uncommon phrase in your friendships. You’d said it countless times: to him, to Claire, to Jill. Chris had said it to you what felt like a thousand times before, and you’d always known exactly what he meant.

It was different this time. But as long as you didn’t acknowledge it, you could hide behind the familiarity. “I love you too.” you confessed. Your brain clocked out for the night, and your heart took over the shift. You felt yourself lean in to him, anticipation setting your spine on fire as you realized he was leaning in too. His lips looked so soft.

The sudden jolt of the wheel coming to a stop knocked you both out of it. You both jumped, putting as much distance between the two of you as you could in the small basket. You blinked at each other, wide eyed and slightly panicked as what had almost happened settled between you, and the implications of it. You two were in uncharted territory here.

“Rides over,” the ride jock said as he tapped the back of yours and Chris’s seat. “Feel free to carry on whatever you have going on at home.”

You were both still too caught up in yourselves to really argue with the man, or correct him for that matter. You simply gathered your belongings and made your way to the car. This time the two of you walked with a healthy distance between you, the space filled instead with the impenetrable wall of the status quo. God, what had you been thinking?! There was no coming back from a kiss, that was a boundary that you couldn’t uncross. Everything would have changed if you had actually kissed.

Everything felt like it had already changed. It was quiet until you had gotten to the car.

He was the first to speak. “I’m sorry,” he said, not quite able to look you in the eye. That…was not what you expected to hear.

“What? Chris, what do you have to be sorry for?”

“I– I made it weird, didn’t I? I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s just- we were so close, and I’ve always thought you were so pretty, and–”

“Chris.”

“I wasn’t thinking straight. You have a boyfriend, and I told you this wasn’t a date–”

“Chris.”

“And we’ve been friends for so long, why would you ever see me like that–”

“Chris.” You said with much more emphasis this time, putting a hand on his arm. You didn’t like where that was going. He finally looked at you. He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut.

Then opened it again. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop that,” you said, sternly enough to get the point across. “You have nothing to be sorry about. We were both just, caught up in the moment.”

Chris nodded. “Right.”

You continued. “This doesn’t have to change anything. We can just ignore it.”

He paused for a second. Then nodded again. “Right.” he agreed.

The drive back was quiet. Thick with everything left unsaid, filled with whatever the classic rock station wanted to fill it with. The Promise by When In Rome felt… a little bit targeted, you wouldn’t lie. But you both let it play out nonetheless. You even took comfort in Chris quietly humming along with it. It took some of the edge off the silence.

As always when you made it to your house, he insisted on walking you to your door. ‘To make sure you get inside safe,’ he’d always say. As the two of you got to the top step of your porch, you faced each other with smiles.

A little closer to each other than was necessary.

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” you said, giving a little lift to your new wolf friend, “Thank you, again.”

“Of course,” He nodded, “I had a lot of fun tonight too.”

His eyes locked on yours. “We should do it again sometime,” you said.

“Carnivals here all week,” he pointed out. Was he getting closer? Or were you?

“I should really go inside.”

“I should probably get going too.” Neither of you made even an attempt to do either of those things. His hand reached up and held your face, this thumb caressing your cheek.

He whispered your name again, the same way he had on the ferris wheel. “I… Can I kiss you?”

You hadn’t expected him to be so forward. Not after the apology tour in his car. And you definitely hadn’t expect to be so fucking giddy about it either. “Please.”

Chris didn’t need to be told twice. In the beat of a butterfly's wings his lips were on yours, and they were just as soft as you imagined. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer than you thought possible, and yet still you got the vibe it wasn’t close enough for him. With one arm still holding the wolf, the other came up to wrap around his neck.

You felt his teeth drag across your lower lip, asking to deepen the kiss. You gladly invited him in, happily tasting the sugar and chocolate still on his tongue. He pulled you impossibly close, the kiss intensifying with every second it was allowed to go on. You felt him start to pick you up, and for the first time you realized just how strong Chris was now.

You were the one to pull back, realizing that this was getting a little too intense for your front porch. Chris either wasn’t thinking about that or didn’t care, he tried to close the gap immediately, only to be stopped by your gentle hand on his chest.

“You wanna come inside for some coffee?” You asked.

He blinked, as if only now realizing the two of you were still outside. “I’d love to.”

You fumbled with the lock on your door, suddenly cursing yourself for your desire not to be robbed. The two of you stumbled inside once you got the door open. You threw the stuffed animal on the couch, Chris kicked the door closed and you both ripped your coats off. And before the two of you had the forethought to reconsider, your hands were on each other again, lips pressed together in a heated kiss. He picked you up, supporting your lower half with only one arm while the other kept your chest pressed firmly against his.

Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, and for a second you thought he was about to take you on the couch. Not that you would have minded, but you were just as if not more happy when he started to make his way to your bedroom. He managed to make his way past your door, kicking it closed before turning around and pressing you to it.

The kiss started to migrate, from your lips down to your neck. A shiver ran through you as he found that sweet, soft spot on your neck. The one that always made you melt into nothing. “Fuck, Chris–” you moaned, fingers coming up to tug at his short hair.

“I love it when you say my name,” he muttered, coming up to recapture your lips. He held you up with his right arm, while his left hand drifted up and under your shirt. His hand was surprisingly warm, and welcomed against your chill skin. You almost didn’t notice when he found your bra clasp, effortlessly undoing, with one hand no less.

You felt your cheeks catch fire. “Oh!” You gasped, “You’ve definitely done that before.”

He gave you an almost bashful smile. “Once or twice,” he admitted. You didn’t know why that was so shocking to you. Maybe it was because Chris had never really had a long term partner in all the years you’d known him, but still. You had seen him take plenty of gorgeous girls and immaculate men home before.

No time to think about partners of lovers past. He moved to lay you down on the bed, pressing you into the soft mattress as he pressed his mouth to you. You could feel the tent in his jeans against your leg, filling you with anticipation. He pulled back long enough to take his shirt off and your mouth went dry. You knew Chris was fit, his job kept him that way, But knowing that fact and actively seeing it were two different things. He was beautiful; toned, well kept muscles flexing and somehow still defined under a soft layer of fat. Chris looked like a classic Greek statue, an Adonis that would have made Aphrodite herself blush.

And he was looking at you as if you were Venus, the very definition of beauty and grace. And you didn’t even have to take your shirt off! Still, he had put on a show so you might as well return the favor. You sat up and slipped your shirt off, your unclasped bra threatening to come off had you not caught it.

Chris’s breath caught in his throat as he took you in. “You’re so fucking sexy,” he huffed. What a poet.

“Yeah?” you asked, slowly letting your bra fall off your shoulders, tossing it to the side. Looking at Chris, you suddenly understood the phrase ‘fucking me with your eyes.’

He nodded. “Yeah.” It was the last thing he said before his mouth found your neck again, targeting the sweet spot that made you moan the loudest. He wanted to dig his teeth in there, leave a dark purple bruise for you to model for him in the morning. He wanted to– no he needed to mark you as his, undeniably his. He had waited for you for so long, it was only fair really.

You brought him back to reality by tugging softly at his hair, whimpering his name. He pulled back, admiring his work with a near wicked smirk. Good luck covering that up. “So fucking pretty,” he muttered, placing one last soft kiss to the mark, before kissing down your body. Down your neck, over your collar bone, through the peaks and valleys of your chest. Down your stomach, your hips, and finally along the waistband of your pants.

You lifted your hips up, eagerly inviting him to take them off. He was quick, undoing the button on your jeans before pulling them and your underwear down in one fluid motion. He pulled back, taking you all in. You watched the way his chest heaved with every breath, desire radiating off him in thick waves. It was warm in your room, and you watched as sweat started to bead on his chest and get caught in the hair there. Your eyes followed the thick happy trail down the waistband of his boxers, peeking out ever so slightly from above his jeans.

You wanted to pull them down with your teeth. Chris’s eyes met yours before you could though. “You look so much better than I ever could have imagined,” he groaned. You didn’t quite have time to unpack all of the implications of that before he was in between your legs. Your breath caught in your throat as you watched him kiss the inside of your knee, looking at you with a dangerous fire in his eye that you had never seen from him before.

He kissed down your leg, nipping and leaving a trail of small marks in his wake as he moved to where you really needed him. He placed your knee over his shoulder as he scraped his teeth along the inside of your thigh. Finally, you could feel him hovering over your slit– felt his breath against your aching, wet, cunt. You braced for impact.

Just for him to skip right over it and go to kissing your other thigh. “Chris!” You snapped, “What the hell!?” You asked, sitting up on your elbows.

He just smirked at you from behind your thigh. “What?” he asked, tilting his head. “What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean what’s wrong?! Why didn’t you–” you waved your hand for emphasis. “You know.”

He definitely knew. “No, I don’t know.” he sighed. Liar. “Tell me what you want.”

You felt your face catch fire as you realized what he wanted you to do. “I–” you started, trying not to let your embarrassment over take you. “I want you.”

He hummed, considering your statement. “I’m right here doll,” he informed you, “You have me.”

You groaned in frustration. You had no fucking clue why you were struggling with this. You had never been the “blushing bride” trope before, and far from a prude. But, something about him specifically brought out a side of you that you weren’t entirely familiar with.

You were excited to get to know that side of you though. “ Chris, I need you,” you begged.

You watched his pupils flair with lust. That almost got him, but he stood firm. “Need me to what?”

Ah fuck being coy, this was getting frustrating. “Chris, please. I want your mouth so bad it fucking hurts. I need you, please, I wanna cum on your mouth so bad.”

It was like you had casted a spell on him. In an instant you felt his tongue finally licking a stripe up your slit, gathering all of the slick there. A sick sense of pride filled you when he moaned at your taste. You tasted like ambrosia to him, and he couldn’t get over just how wet and needy you were from kissing alone. It drove him mad.

You gasped as you felt him take your clit into his mouth, sucking on it sharply and rolling his tongue over the nub. Pleasure spiked through you, coursing its way through your core and to your head. One hand clenched the sheets while the other found the back of his head, pulling him closer to you. Your head fell back as you got lost in the bliss, every swipe of his tongue sending another wave of warmth through you.

Heat starts to pool and swirl in your lower stomach, and you don’t even care that the cheesy bastard is spelling out his name with his tongue against you. You almost think about how possessive that is, his need to paint his name across every inch of you.

Then you feel two of his thick fingers start to circle your cunt, and suddenly you're not thinking much of anything. Even the thought of higher thinking and functioning goes out the door as he presses his digits into you. The sound he pulls out of you is near embarrassing, but the stretch feels so electric that you can’t even think to care.

You feel his fingers curl up, searching for the golden soft spot inside of you. He’s meticulous, and it doesn’t take him long to find it, the gasp you give him coupled with your thighs clenching around his head telling him everything he needed to know. Target acquired. He angles his hand to better massage the spot.

A tight coil was wrapping in on itself in your lower stomach, so tight now it was threatening to snap. Electric waves of euphoria pulsed through you, stars started to form before your eyes. You felt your hips buck to meet his fingers, lost in the way his mouth worshiped your clit. Chris hit a perfect stride, one that made your legs shake.

“Fuck Chris, right there,” you gasped as if he hadn’t figured it out already. “Just like that, don’t stop.” And Chris, angel that he was, actually listened when you told him not to change anything, keeping the same pace and pattern– hitting a home run with just a few swipes of his tongue.

The coil inside you finally snapped, breaking open the dam and overflowing your senses with dopamine, oxytocin, and euphoria. Hot waves of bliss crashed into you, setting every single nerve ending you had on fire. You didn’t even notice Chris humping the mattress in a truly humbling display, acting like a teenager in his own desperate need for friction.

He didn’t stop either, gladly working you through your climax. He didn’t think he could have stopped even if he wanted to. He was drunk on your taste, high on your pleasure, and the fact that it was him making you feel this good. He groaned into you as he felt the way your cunt fluttered around his fingers, already imagining what it would feel like on his cock. He didn’t stop till you physically pushed him away, feeling overwhelmed.

Chris looked at you the way a hungry wolf looked at a rabbit; ravenous, and desperate to consume. To make every part of you a part of him. “You’re perfect,” he moaned as he closed the gap between the two of you. “And all fucking mine,” he added as he captured your lips in a demanding kiss, your taste still lingering on his tongue. There was a jealous edge to his voice, and you wondered if it had been there this whole time. You weren’t sure, but you were sure you liked the sound of it.

He pulled back, rutting his still clothed and painfully hard cock against you, needing some form of relief. “Say it,” He begged, “Say you’re mine.”

You didn’t even have to think twice. “I’m yours Chris. All yours. I think I always have been.” The sound that came from him was sinful, and he finally gave into himself; sitting up and undoing his belt. You sat up with him to finish the job, palming him through the fabric and taking a secret joy in the way he bucked into even your tiniest touch. You slowly undid the button holding his pants together.

You must have been too slow for him. He took over, pushing his jeans and boxers down and finally taking himself out. He moaned in relief, giving himself a few strokes to ease his discomfort. He didn’t notice your wide eyed, almost nervous stare. You were no virgin, you had handled your fair share of dicks, and handled them incredibly well in your humble opinion.

Chris was intimidating though. He wasn’t too much longer than most, but he was far thicker than the rest. It looked heavy, and curved slightly upward. The dark tip was already leaking and desperate for attention. For your attention.

He noticed you staring, saw the look on your face. “We won’t do anything you don’t want to do,” he promised. He knew he could be… a lot, and he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable in any way.

You swallowed the invisible lump in your throat. “I want to, it’s just… kind of intimidating.”

Chris nodded, understanding the apprehension. “We’ll go slow,” He promised, taking your hand and inviting you to get more well acquainted with his cock. You gladly took him up on the offer, taking him in your palm. You felt a sense of power at the way he shuddered under your touch, just as needy for you as you were for him.

You focused on the head, swiping your thumb over his leaking tip and using it to coat his dick. He moaned softly for you, making no move to hide how good even just your softest touch felt. You stroked his shaft, tracing out the prominent veins as he twitched in your hand. He wrapped an arm around your lower back, taking your free hand in his and bringing your wrist up for a kiss. All while bucking into your touch.

Such a soft act mixed with such an erotic scene sent a pulse of electricity to your core. Your soon-to-be-ex had never made you feel like this before. You gripped Chris slightly tighter, earning you a soft moan from him as you stroked his sensitive cock. He looked at you with hooded, lust filled eyes; emboldening you to pick up the pace.

His breath hitched in his chest, his dick twitched, he was clearly happy with the change. You watched his eyes flutter shut as he bucked his hips into your touch, building up a steady rhythm and getting lost in the sensation. You smirked at him, feeling proud of the way he melted into your hand. “Feel good?” You asked.

He huffed an almost laugh, “So good,” he confirmed, bucking into your grip, “You’re doing so good for me.” The praise went straight to your core and you bit your lip. Suddenly, all you wanted was to be good for him. You became more persistent, switching from long, languid strokes over his entire length to quick sharp motions that focused on the tip. You felt Chris shudder as he reached down, tips of his fingers teasing your clit. You gasped at the sudden sensation, not fully expecting him to return the favor.

“Don’t look so shocked,” he chuckled. “We reward good behavior around here.” he said, massaging expert circles into you. You faltered, still sensitive from your previous climax. Your thighs twitched and you fell the short distance into Chris’s chest. Still, you may have fumbled a bit, but you didn’t forget the task at hand here.

Chris smirked, “Look at my pretty little doll, twitchy and needy and still trying to return the favor. Aren’t you just an angel?” The tone came out more condescending than he meant it too, but it wasn’t like you noticed. You just honestly really liked the sound of him talking.

He could tell just how much you liked it. “So fucking wet,” he continued, “And all for me. You’re going to feel so good wrapped around me, I can tell.” His voice was getting husky, thick with desire and you realized he was getting there with just your hand. You were getting close too, hips rocking against him, puffy clit catching on his palm. The stimulation mixed with his voice was intoxicating.

And as much as Chris would have loved to watch you cum all over his hand, he would have much rather watched you come apart on his dick instead. He pulled you close and nipped at your ear. “I need you,” he groaned.

“Need me to what?”

He almost laughed, “I need you to let me fuck that pretty little cunt until you can’t think about anything other than how good I feel inside of you.” You felt like you were on fire.

Well, since he asked so nicely. “Please,” you nodded.

Chris pulled your face to his, hand on the back of your head as he kissed you roughly before pressing your back into the mattress. He sat up above you, and swallowed roughly. You watched his Adam's apple bob up and down and he took you in, admiring his work decorating your body with his teeth. There would be no denying he was here in the morning.

He grabbed your hips and placed himself in between your legs, spreading them to make room. He ran the thick tip of his cock along your slit, collecting the natural slick there. “Think you’re ready for me doll?” he asked. You nodded, the anticipation eating you alive as you braced yourself for him.

He shook his head. “No, that’s not going to work here baby. I wanna hear your pretty voice.”

How dare he. “Yes, Chris,” you nodded. “I'm ready.”

Chris grinned. “See? I knew you could speak.” You ignored the condescension in his tone, far more preoccupied with the feeling of him pressing inside you, stretching you out in all of the most beautiful ways. In all your years of friendship, you never imagined Chris would feel like this. You moaned out his name in an almost pathetic display of need, hands gripping the sheets so hard you would have been worried about ripping them if you weren’t so preoccupied.

Chris hissed through his teeth as he fought the need to shove himself entirely inside your warm, welcoming cunt. A part of him wanted to split you in half and fuck you for all that you were worth, to mold your pretty little pussy to his cock and ruin you for any other man. But another, much louder part of him wanted to make sure you were comfortable. At least for the first go around. So he went almost painfully slow, only taking as much as you would give.

You moaned as you tried to adjust to his size, tense both in apprehension and from the burn. He rubbed soothing circles into your hips, leaning down to press soft kisses into your jawline. “Come on baby,” he moaned as he kissed the shell of your ear, “relax for me.” His free hand reached down as he spoke, massaging slow, meticulous circles into your clit. Slowly, the pain started to subside, leaving you with nothing but the desperate need for him to fucking move.

“Chris,” you moaned, hand coming up to touch his back, hoping he’d get the message because you weren’t confident in your ability to say much other than his name.

Luckily, he knew exactly what you wanted, and slowly set a pace that left you reeling. “There ya go doll, that’s it,” he encouraged, angling his hips so he could hit that soft spot inside you, “Fuck, you feel so good, you’re doing so good for me.” He praised as he rocked his hips into yours, each thrust sending a new fresh wave of bliss throughout you. Your head felt like it was filled with stardust, and all you could focus on was his pretty voice and how perfectly he filled you.

He took one of your legs and placed it higher on his hip, knowing he got the angle right when he felt your nails dig into his taunt back, leaving pretty little red moons, and gasped out what may just have been the hottest sound he’d ever heard in his life. “Yeah?” he grinned. “Like that doll?”

He really needed to stop asking questions, you were going to start biting him about it. You nodded, rushing out a quick “yes,” and hoping that would be enough for him.

He chuckled almost darkly, leaning in to kiss you again. “Fuck, it’s like you were made for me baby doll,” he groaned, picking up the pace and sending you into the stratosphere. “You’re taking me so good love, you’re so fucking perfect for me.”

Had you been more cognizant, you might have had the thought to unpack the latest pet name. Might. It didn’t quite matter though, because right now you were lost in a sea of euphoria, threatening to drown in a tsunami of dopamine. Your entire body felt like a livewire, electric and ready to snap, flying closer and closer to the edge with every perfectly timed rut of his hips.

Your other hand flew up to his hair, pulling probably harder than you actually meant to and still managing to pull a filthy moan from him. “Chris,” you whined. “Chris I’m close.”

He nodded, making sure not to change his pace or pressure, “Cum for me baby, please,” he begged. “Need it, need you.”

It was like your body was just instinctively waiting for permission, because the moment the words tumbled out of his mouth you felt yourself fly off the ledge, falling into a pit of oxytocin and dopamine, pleasure exploding through your every nerve ending to wreak you, and leave you shaking like the last leaves in fall. You were pretty sure you said, something? Or maybe he did? Honestly you were in no place to decipher words.

Your peak brought him to his own, the feeling of your perfect heat fluttering round him, seemingly pulling him impossibly deeper pulled him over the edge with you with one last thrust. He came hard inside of you, telling himself he couldn’t have pulled out if he tried and knowing even then he was lying to himself. He fucked you through both of your highs, not letting up until he physically had to stop. He managed to avoid collapsing on top of you, rolling you both over so he’d land beside you instead.

You both laid there for a moment, basking in the afterglow of your shared sin while he peppered light kisses across your forehead. “You okay?” he asked gently.

“Never better,” you laughed, but it came out more like breathy little huffs.

He smiled adoringly at you as he brushed your hair out of your eyes. “Glad to hear it,” he muttered. You grimaced as he finally pulled out, almost feeling like you’d lost something. “Come on,” he muttered, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Chris gave you a quick kiss before leaving the room, coming back with a warm rag and a water bottle. He helped you get cleaned up before gathering you in his arms again, propping you up on his chest while you tried to rehydrate. You took another drink before looking up at him. “Yes, you can light a smoke.”

Chris looked like he’d been caught in a crime. “What? I didn’t say anything about–”

“You didn’t have to,” you teased. “I can feel you getting twitchy, just smoke the cigarette.”

He looked relieved. “You sure you don’t mind?” Even as he asked he was reaching for his jeans. “I know you’re not a huge fan of the smell.”

You waved a hand at him. “Just don’t make a habit of it,” you said, pointing to an abandoned water bottle on your bedside. “There’s your ashtray.”

He pulled his cigarettes and lighter out of his back pocket, throwing his pants back on the floor. He lit the smoke, throwing the lighter on your night stand before relaxing back on the bed, pulling you back to his side. You melted into him, closing your eyes and taking everything in.

The silence was comfortable this time, nothing like it was on the way back from the fair. Everything felt familiar and right. From the cigarette smoke to the soft beating of his heart, the entire scene felt like a snapshot from your future.

You thought that if you had ever crossed this line with Chris, it would be awkward– friendship ruining even. You were almost shocked to realize that, no actually, it didn’t feel like anything had changed.

It felt like this is where you were supposed to be the entire time. “So,” he finally asked, “What’s the plan?”

“What’s the plan?” You laughed, “The plan is leaving fuckface. And, well,” you looked up at him, “Hopefully we can explore whatever this is?”

Chris’s smile could have lit up an entire city. “Glad we’re on the same page,” he said, pulling you into another kiss. “Happy Valentine's Day, baby.”

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