#it’ll take a few hours and lowered inhibitions for him to even start feelings something other than satisfaction and pride | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kaminobiwan · 4 years

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inhibition

pairing: obi-wan kenobi x jedi!reader

summary: Fluff. Sap. Domesticity with a little bit of plot sprinkled in. Dash of sa(n)d, but that's to be expected at this point. It’s Tatooine, y’all.

a/n: Having not read Kenobi yet I actually have no idea how Obi-Wan’s demeanor is towards young Luke, but it’s fic so who cares. They get FAMILY VIBES

This one got away from me. Positively wrenched out of my grip and flew away, leading to the longest fic I’ve ever written, but I think the end result is so worth it. Requested by @snips-n-skyguy0501 and an anon that wanted breakfast in bed and forehead kisses — I hope your foot feels better, Sam! (Taglist)

In the slick of the heat of Tatooine, there isn’t much you could really do but sleep it off.

Even with tiny windows, the determined rays of the planet’s twin suns never failed to make their way into the small compound that had served as your sanctuary for the better part of the past half decade. You can feel the warmth of the dawn seeping in, lingering on your features, but you’re not ready to come back to the living just yet.

It’s not usually that you lay in bed for more than a couple hours past sunrise, but given the past few days, you definitely deserved it — repeated visits to the Lars homestead had acquainted you with some of their regular customers, other families that lived in the Great Chott. With Obi-Wan being the least inclined out of the pair of you to interact with anyone not in immediate danger (“saving his sociability for you,” as he called it), you’d been the one to volunteer some of your talents when you could in exchange for food or parts. This week had seen a favor to one of the couples that bought water from Owen and Beru, with you helping to repair a lower-end vaporizer that had seen shinier days.

The trips across the salt flat had inflicted more of a beating on your feet than normal, and your shoes hadn’t been enough to protect you from the coarse desert floor. You’d come home the night before looking worse for wear, left hand rubbed raw from tinkering and right foot split open by an unforgiving blister, but Obi-Wan had patched you up without hesitation and insisted that you let him wrestle your weary bones to bed.

Now, your lover lays ever-present at your back, but judging by the heavy unmoving arm strewn across you, he’s not fully up either.

Without raising your eyelids, you turn in his grasp, the weight upon you comforting despite the swelter. You hear Obi-Wan mutter something incoherent, but you pay it no mind as you crane your neck slightly in search of his face. Lips meet a bearded chin first, and a hum escapes him, louder now. Still determined in reaching your goal, you stretch, limbs awakening, but mind lagging as it tries to shake free of the clutches of slumber.

It’s a race to consciousness as Obi-Wan starts to stir as well, evidently joining you in your quest for a kiss, and finally, after a few minutes more of half-asleep fumbling, it happens — mouths moulding together blissfully, weak and sweaty from the blazing heat, but your heart flutters at the taste of him.

When you open your eyes, a blue gaze is waiting. Obi-Wan smiles at the way your noses touch, unwilling to separate much from your embrace.

“Good morning.”

You yawn before responding, jerking as Obi-Wan juts an evil finger in your side midway. You’re not sentient enough to shoot him a half-hearted glare, so instead, you mumble it back and accidentally smack him in the face as you move to rise.

He stops you before you can, chin hooking onto your nearest shoulder and tugging down, and you slump back to the sheets with a subdued giggle. “Feeling better?”

“Much,” you reply, and he nods, obviously pleased. “I have you to thank for that.”

He mouths at the skin behind your ear, only half-listening, but still fully fixated on you. You wonder if you’ll ever completely get used to his unbridled affection, even after more than five years living together in isolation, free to feel and show your love blatantly and unapologetically.

Not without a price that had been paid, but it was soul-healing love regardless.

“The Marstraps and their garden are doing well,” you comment absently, more to fill the silence as he lavishes you in physical worship than anything. “Maybe we should get into hydroponics.”

A sound of indifference.

“Did you know they have a daughter?” At that, Obi-Wan stills, face buried in your hair. You think his hand twitches at your abdomen, but in your groggy state, you can’t be completely sure. He never seems to know what to say when you talk of such things. Not then, not now.

It’s not like you mean to imply anything by bringing it up, really. It’s more of...a gauge, of sorts. You’re probing. You’re not even sure why.

“Her name is Camie. She’s very sweet.”

Obi-Wan lifts his head lethargically, looking like he wants to utter a thousand words and nothing all at once. This time, he really does grip your hip, thumb grazing your ribcage thoughtfully, but you take it upon yourself to change the subject before things get too complicated.

“What time is it?”

“Still early,” he rumbles, and the gravelly tone sends satisfying vibrations to where your torsos are pressed against each other. “You’ll be able to get a couple more hours of rest.”

“Hmm.” His words trigger your body to succumb to the drowsiness you hadn’t quite gotten rid of, and your eyes droop contentedly again. “Will you be joining me?”

Obi-Wan slips his other arm from underneath your neck, languidly sweeping over your form and nudging your temple fondly with his nose. “Unfortunately, no,” he murmurs into your hair, “but I think you’ll appreciate why.”

Your eyebrow lifts at the cryptic line, but you’re already falling back asleep as he lifts himself fully from you, and you give into the tiredness as his footsteps fade from your hearing.

———

Moments later — you’re not sure if he’s made good on his promise of extra hours — you feel the pressure of puckered lips against your eyelids, the scratch of his beard poking the thin skin around your eyes as you arise for the second time. This time, however, the enticing smell of food invades your senses, and you realize with a start that it’s not the boiled mealgrain that you usually have in the morning.

“Is that — ?” You shift in bed, reclining upon the headrest, but not yet sitting upright. You’re wide awake now, blinking alertly to find the source of the delectable aroma.

“Iktotch toast,” Obi-Wan announces proudly, setting a tray stacked with plates of steaming food on the table beside your shared bed. “And my attempt at a gartro omelet. Though, I couldn’t get all the necessary ingredients.” He sits on the edge, hand finding your blanketed shin and caressing it like second nature. “Just a fair warning.”

The thin sheet falls to your stomach as you twist to get a good look at his cooking, and you’re rewarded with the sight of brightly colored eggs and buttered bread topped with carbosyrup. Compared to the monochromatic meals you’ve come to expect day to day, it’s a welcome change.

In your excitement, you forget about the abrasions from yesterday, the still-raw skin of your palm screaming out in protest when you try to prop yourself up. Obi-Wan spots the small wince, and reaches for you as you cradle your stinging hand to your chest. “Better doesn’t mean good, apparently.” There’s a teasing to his locution, if only because he knows you too well. You don’t want to make a fuss out of it. You’re bested, anyhow, when he squeezes the blistered foot and you yelp. “Here, too. It still hurts? Shall I redress the wounds?”

A shake of your head precedes your response, as you assure him, “No, there’s no need. Truly.” Still, he’s adamant on being of more assistance, and it seems today is a good day. He’s happy, playful, even — it’s instants like these where you catch a glimpse of a different man, the echo of an old friend.

“Anything I can do to ease the pain?” Obi-Wan smirks, but it’s free of sarcasm as he leans above you, his hair falling in his eyes. It’s grown longer now, not quite the lion’s mane of a mullet he’d sported so many years ago, but unrulier than the clean-cropped cut that he’d had during his last years on Coruscant.

Another life.

Though, you suppose, the rugged desert look is growing on you.

“A kiss on the bandage, maybe,” you quip, just as light-hearted, basking in the mood — what a rarity, nowadays, but always because of each other. “Perhaps it’ll help it heal faster.”

Obi-Wan scoots downwards, ruffling the sheets and uncovering more of your pajama-clad figure to the world, and grabs for your toes —

“Not there! I meant the hand,” you cry, just short of a laugh. “Were you really about to kiss the bottom of my foot?”

He joins in your amusement, chuckling as he traces his way back up to you with light kisses that begin at your legs. One on the knee, then on your navel, and right under your breast — the tease. His hands follow hotly along the trail his mouth leaves, yet it’s a heat you’re all too willing to endure. “Darling, you’d know I’d kiss you anywhere,” he says, grin honest and eager, and you smile suggestively at him from your place upon the pillows.

The moment turns soft, though, when he takes your injured hand, touching his lips to the pads of your fingers, completely avoiding the wrappings. Instead, he marks the exposed skin peeking from the bandages, leaving warm touches where he can reach. You let him make his way up your arm, relaxing the muscle and leaving it pliant in his hold, and these kisses are tender, sincere, adoring.

His lips brush the inside of your elbow, and you catch his gaze then, eyes serious and lacking the mirth of before. He beams, nevertheless, and it takes another four pecks up your shoulder, collarbone, and neck until he finally reaches your mouth. Your lips connect in a quiet climax, tension releasing and hushed sighs escaping the both of you as hands find cheeks and jaws to hold. His beard is longer, too, and a subtle drag of your fingers along his scruff doesn’t go unnoticed as he groans into the kiss.

Sluggishly, as if he’s struggling against the pull of quicksand, Obi-Wan pulls away, your digits still tangled in his auburn locks. “Eat,” he murmurs, placing one last kiss on your bare palm. As he places the tray in your lap, you sit up properly, kicking the last of the covers aside. “Company is coming.”

———

Company was actually more of a child-sitting gig, with the Lars traveling to Anchorhead and reluctant to let their nephew tag along just yet. The four of you had all agreed it was best to shelter the boy until you and Obi-Wan had gotten better at shielding the signatures of three Force-sensitives, and while you were quickly growing used to the strain of the constant use of the Force, there wasn’t a need for unnecessary ventures outside of the community when Luke could just stay with you and Obi-Wan.

On the other hand, if you asked Obi-Wan, he didn’t see why a trip to Tosche Station couldn’t wait until next week, seeing as how you couldn’t walk much without pain. Luke would undoubtedly aggravate the blister when he begged you to play.

But you hadn’t asked Obi-Wan, you dutifully reminded him throughout his musings over the food, unconcerned at the prospect. Breakfast had been as delicious as it had smelled — your taste buds had been assaulted with the flavor, but it had been a gratuitous ordeal that had reminded you of a bustling diner and the toothy grin of a Besalisk. “Just missing the powdered Christophsian sugar,” you’d praised, and he’d barely hidden his glowing simper as he cleared the dishes. You know his apprehension at looking after Luke today is more out of concern for you, rather than lack of willingness.

Just as there were good and bad days of disposition, Obi-Wan’s interactions with his old student’s son were varying. Some visits were joy-filled and vibrant with childish merriment, at the mercy of Luke’s wild imagination, but it wasn’t uncommon for Obi-Wan to retreat to your bed, floored by the striking resemblance the boy had to his father, the memories he tried so hard to forget rushing back in a dark cloud of resignation. Luke was under the impression that his favorite playmate suffered from intermittent cases of sand-fever, trusting enough to believe the excuse. Though he loved you just as much, it was Obi-Wan that Luke idolized the most, and you couldn’t at all blame him for feeling disappointed when Obi-Wan was too unsteady to come out and say hello.

But today, the promise of a happy afternoon rang throughout the air, and you allowed yourself the indulgence of looking forward to the rest of the day. At five years old, Luke was an adoring child, innocent in ways you’d never been able to see, not even with Anakin. He reminded you of a fresh snowbank, ironic as it was, pristine and untouched by the world. Your heart ached to keep it that way.

Luke launches himself at you as expected when he arrives, Owen being kind enough to deliver him instead of letting Obi-Wan make the ride over. Just as well, too — after the doting attentiveness of the morning, you didn’t want to stray too far from Obi-Wan’s side. The former Jedi catches the boy in midair, strong arms wrapping around his tiny frame and swinging him away from you to save you from exacerbating your wounds, and Luke screeches in hysterics as he’s tossed in a wide circle. He attacks Obi-Wan with energetic pokes when he’s finally set down, the older man letting out a surprised oof when he’s headbutted rather hard in the stomach. You muffle a guffaw in your elbow as Obi-Wan shoots you an accusatory scowl, massaging his middle as he assures Owen he’ll return his nephew in one piece. The farmer thanks you both, leaving without a second glance, and Obi-Wan is whisked away by the young Skywalker to entertain his latest fascination with womp rats.

———

They return before dusk, smelling like sweat and death, acrid scents practically steaming off of their robes. You cover your nose as Obi-Wan staggers in through the side door, steadying a chittering Luke as he trips over the trapdoor to the cellar. “Target practice,” Obi-Wan explains, somewhat apologetically. “His aim needs some work.”

“I blew a rat’s head off!” Luke declares boastfully, and cackles while running a victory circle around the kitchen. “It just exploded!”

You turn aghast to Obi-Wan, who ushers the boy into the refresher and instructs him to wash up. As Luke rinses off the trace of the outdoors, you stop Obi-Wan before he can come any closer. You can almost taste the sour aroma that wafts off of your husband. “Don’t tell me he means an actual womp rat. They’re twice his size. If you’re letting him near those predators, Obi-Wan, I’m going to —”

“Relax!” Obi-Wan exclaims defensively, palms raised as if to shield him from your wrath. “It was just a profogg. And we weren’t hunting in the beginning, just setting stink capsules near the hut. Poor thing got too close when we set it off and its friends decided they wanted revenge.”

The clarification does little to placate you, the knowledge that it’s most likely rodent guts contributing to the fumes only further motivating you to stay at a distance. But Obi-Wan has other plans, and a mischievous expression takes over his features as he runs at you, grabbing for your face as you squeal. “Disgusting! Obi-Wan!”

“Not even a peck for your one true love?” He asks, and you bat his hands away. “I was willing to kiss your foot this morning.”

“But you didn’t,” you remark impishly, holding in bubbling laughter. “I’m not kissing you while you smell like an eopie’s ass.”

“Language.” He seizes your wrists as you squirm, though your spirits are still high. You arch backwards, grappling to escape. “Luke might be listening.”

You catch your breath without inhaling in his direction, but it fails when you descend into snickering when a small voice protests, “No I’m not!”

“Go.” While he’s distracted, you push Obi-Wan towards Luke in the refresher, hard. “It’s time for a trim. I think you have profogg gunk in your beard.”

He stumbles back, too late to stop your words from being heard, and Luke yells, “You told me it was a womp rat!”

Another bout of laughter arises in your throat, and Obi-Wan fixes you with a withering glare you’re too perceptive to fall for. “Thanks,” he grumbles, none too grateful, and disappears into the sink.

———

“Careful of your fingers — you don’t want to cut yourself.”

After the bits of wildlife had been safely discarded down the drain and the boys had changed into fresh clothes, you watch as Obi-Wan guides Luke’s wobbly hands down his own stubbled throat. The sight of the shaving cream that covers most of Obi-Wan’s face is priceless, but you opt for appreciation rather than humour as the touching moment transpires.

“Better to cut me than you, but let’s aim for no one, alright?” Luke nods, tongue poking out in concentration as he shucks off more hair from Obi-Wan’s chin. He’s holding the razor with both hands, standing on a stool while Obi-Wan kneels to stay within reach. “Firmly, but with precision. Very graceful.”

Luke’s hyperactivity is nowhere to be found, and you admire his focus. Maybe you should have him shave your husband more often. Both the Lars and you would certainly benefit from the resulting tranquility.

But, no — you’d miss the beard too much.

“Done!” Luke leans back and throws his fists up in delight. Obi-Wan is quick to snatch up the tool to avoid any accidents, and places it back in its compartment as he turns to the boy overflowing with pride.

“Let’s check, shall we?” He rises from his knees with a low grunt and the pop of his joints — one you don’t miss, but refrain from pointing out. For a second, all you see is the back of Obi-Wan’s head as he washes away the lather, then it’s the dismayed twist of his mouth as the uneven patches of missed hair gleam in the mirror.

Luke bounces up and down, making an effort in vain to assess his work. Obi-Wan quickly readjusts his features as you hide your face, silently shaking with amusement. “Did I do okay?”

Obi-Wan squints down at him warmly, brushing the boy’s bangs out of the way. “Yes, An — Luke, you did.” Luke cheers underneath the large hand on his crown. “You did splendidly.”

In a flurry of shouts and whoops, Luke ducks out of Obi-Wan’s arm and exits the refresher, unaware of the almost-slip, but you freeze, more shocked than you have been in months. Years. Obi-Wan’s never done that before.

He meets your wide eyed stare in the mirror, all remains of Luke’s comical shaving job gone, neither of you able to verbalize exactly what you’re feeling.

But eventually, the impact of his blunder fades, and you break free from the fog of your stupefaction.

Your bandaged hand finds his shoulder, soaking up the droplets from his shower, and rubs consolingly, back and forth. You hope it conveys all that words can’t say. A pang strikes you as Obi-Wan lets out a trembling exhale, the unfinished name falling away to the empty room, and you resist the impulse to crush him into a hug.

He needs space.

The watery eyes you expect to see are dry in seconds, and all is well again.

———

You look on as Obi-Wan props Luke’s tuckered form into Beru’s waiting arms, meeting her gaze with a gentle understanding. She secures him into the passenger seat as she mounts the landspeeder slowly, seemingly sensing the hesitance radiating from two of you, uready to let the day end. When they finally depart, Obi-Wan watches them leave from the entrance of the dwelling.

“It’s alright to love him, you know.” You approach him once Beru and Luke are barely a speck on the horizon. You come up to latch around his chest, tiptoeing to kiss his back. “It’s okay to be attached.”

He shifts, rotating so that his back is to the wall after he’s sealed off the door. His own arms raise to encircle you, and you lean your cheek against his bicep before he plants a kiss to your forehead. It spells devotion as you sink further into him, muted ardor enveloping you both. “I know.”

“Do you?” Your voice is quiet to preserve the shroud of calm. “I worry you’re holding back, and you don’t have to. Not here.” Another kiss to his skin. “Not anymore.”

You feel the deep inhale more than you hear it, and his breathing soothes you more than you ever thought possible. It’s proof he’s here, real in your grip. You have each other. “I’m not,” he promises, lips stuck to your hairline. “Though you should know, my heart is reserved for you.”

That brings a laugh out of you, tinkling and bright. You clutch him tighter, warmth swelling inside you in spite of the cooling air of the evening. “You have room for Luke in there.”

Obi-Wan examines you closely, pausing only for a second before he speaks again. “Perhaps more than just him.”

And there it is, the admission you’ve always been curious for yet never wanted to ask. Your breath hitches — only a tad, but you know he picks up on it, and you peer at him cautiously. It’s a conversation you’ve avoided so many times before.

Admittedly, today was the perfect day as any to prime the subject. You’ve never been sure whether Luke has assured Obi-Wan that he wants nothing to do with parenthood or if it inspires a desire to have a son of his own.

It’s not revisited until you’re crawling back into bed, back to his bare chest, and the ghosting touch of his hand smoothing down your front draws your attention away from the sensation of his body enfolding around yours. He’s trying to be discreet, you can tell.

“Practicing?” You whisper, with only a hint of knowing so as not to scare him off. There’s no need, you realize, when you feel his mouth twist into a lopsided smile against your nape and his fingers spread unabashedly across your stomach.

“Perhaps,” he repeats, and it’s enough.

#rini writes #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi imagine #SORRY FOR THE WAITTTT LOL SHE'S HERE #I almost named this one 'tales of tatooine' as in 'tales of ba sing se' but I decided not to lmao #this one came out of nowhere tho all the ideas just flew out #as always I hope you like my loves #<3

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royallyprincesslilly · 4 years

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Title: Sin In The City {3}****

OFC Nalani x Lewis Tan x OFC Lynix Mini Series

Warning: Cursing, NSFW AT ALL, SMUUUUT, FILTH, Threesome, Girl on Girl Action, PLENTY OF WORDS, Grocery Eating 😉, First Person POV

Words: 12.9k 🤣🤣

Summary: Nalani and Lynix have been friends since they first grew hips and tits. They do everything together. When Lewis tells Nalani that he’s in Vegas for the weekend and invites her to come out, she jumps at the chance, especially when Lewis says the more, the merrier to bringing Nix along. The long weekend goes from a fun time to putting the “sin” in Sin City thanks to a secret plot Nalani concocts.

Note: As you know @munteanhorewrites and I are HUUUUGE Lewis Tan fans. The man is just absolute deliciousness and the whole entire package. So, Ru and I got to talking about him currently being in Vegas for the long weekend, and we thought, why not treat you guys while indulging ourselves. This is going to be a four-shot miniseries where Ru and I will each write two chapters for the four-day weekend of sheer debauchery. Thank you @munteanhorewrites for suggesting we combine our evil powers. Mwhahahaha! 😈😈

We hope you enjoy this. As always, thank you guys so much for reading. ❤️❤️

If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG.

Note 2: Bold Italics are an internal thought. Plain Italics are a memory. Plain Bold text messages. Please excuse the slip ups with “I” and “your”. I would have checked it but I was exhausted! 😭

Chapter Legend:

-Chapter One: @royallyprincesslilly

-Chapter Two: @munteanhorewrites

-Chapter Three: @royallyprincesslilly

-Chapter Four: @munteanhorewrites

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter Three: Thirst Comes at You Fast

-Nix-

Groaning, I rolled onto my back for the umpteenth time. The brightness of the sun was blinding, and it was even worse because you had barely slept a wink. Thanks to what I’d seen last night, I tossed and turned and had the most salacious dreams I’d had in a long time. If I were honest, those dreams were downright filthy even by your standards. Now I wasn’t some innocent little thing. Not in the least, but over the last night, I’d dreamt of so many things.

It began with sitting on the couch right in front of those large windows and watching the show Lani and Lewis were putting on. I imagined sitting there with one of those expensive bottles of champagne just sipping as Lani took every inch of him down her throat. From the looks of him, she was taking quite a few inches and then some. The way he stared at me was unlike the way anyone had looked at me.

I could tell that Lani was doing an excellent job from how his lips curled up at the side and how every so often his he grunted, making it echo over the waters of the pool. It was the sexiest sound I’d heard in a long time, and it should have been shameful how quickly it made me wet, but I felt no shame. All I felt the entire night was the slickness between my thighs that never seemed to go away, the heat in the bed though the air conditioner was on all night, and the sheets were silk and always remained cool. Whenever I found a comfortable spot, I had to roll seconds later because of the intense desire that coursed through me. It was frustrating, to say the least.

There were three things that made me cranky and bitchy. One, when I was over hungry. Two, when I was exhausted. Three, when I was horny with no way to relieve myself. This morning I’d found myself struggling with numbers two and three, and one was steadily creeping up on me. As I showered, I still couldn’t get what I’d witnessed last night out of my mind. This time I zeroed in on the way Lewis had gripped Lani’s head and fucked her throat. The sounds coming from her made it seem like he was hitting places in her throat she’d never known.

Without even realizing it, my hand crept down my belly to the apex of my thighs. Quickly, I pulled my hand away and hit the tiled wall.

“Fuck! This cannot be happening.”

My head ran to Lani’s words from the other day.

“How would you feel about a threesome with me and Lewis.”

She was serious. I knew it from the look in her eyes. When Lani was serious about something, she had this determined look.

“You don’t need to be alone. It can be a one off thing. I’ll take care of you; Lewis will take care of you. It’ll be fun.”

The thought of that had me pausing as the soap washed from my body. If I was honest with myself, that didn’t sound half bad. There were benefits of threesomes; I thought to myself as I tried to formulate a list of pros and cons.

“Pro, complete pleasure on all fronts.”

Just thinking of the possibilities for pleasure had goosebumps peppering my skin. As soon as I began thinking about that pleasure, I thought of a con.

“Con, pity fuck.”

That was all it took for me to eighty-six the idea and finish up with my shower. Once out, I tackled the daunting task of my hair. That alone usually took me almost an hour, depending on the style I chose. Today I wanted something sleeker, which meant busting out my flat iron. Deciding on a chill look for the day, I opted for as little makeup as possible before making it to my luggage to choose my outfit for the day.

Once I made it downstairs, I could smell the food and coffee and knew that Lani and Lewis had probably already started without me. It was fine. I needed that extra time to myself to steel myself to be in the same room as him, especially after last night. When I descended the steps and turned into the dining area, Lani was the first to see me. Her face brightened like the sun after a sun shower as she got up and made her way to me.

When she threw her arms around me, I returned the embrace. From behind her, Lewis sat at the table still. His eyes met mine, and again, the look in them was enough to light a match on sight. He was the one to look away first, though.

“You decided to take your sweet time this morning,” Lani teased.

“Yeah, I just needed some me time.”

Lani peeped into my eyes while crinkling her brow, nonverbally asking if I was okay. Giving her a soft smile, I rubbed her back.

“I’m good best friend.”

The two of you walked back to the table. Lani walked around it to sit beside Lewis again.

“Good morning Nix.”

The way he said my name made butterflies flit in my belly. Swallowing the small lump that had formed in your throat, I spoke. “Good morning.”

Once I was sitting, I reached for the orange juice pitcher. If I were lucky, it would be mimosas. Pouring it into the glass, I took a small sip and sighed. Bingo, I thought.

“How’d you sleep?”

Glancing at him, I nodded. “Great. I mean, not great, but fine.”

“What happened?”

Lani was pouting now.

“Nothing really, just tossed for a bit. It was so damn hot,” I informed as I piled my plate with an assortment of the food on the table.

“I wasn’t hot last night. It was cold. I had to snuggle close to Lew,” Lani expressed.

“Yeah. We were fine. Maybe it’s one of those things you just have to—ride,” Lewis suggested.

I could feel his eyes on me, and ninety-five percent of me said don’t look up, don’t chance it to find out. The other five percent said just take a peek; that one peek won’t hurt. It was that five percent I listened to. When I looked at him, he’d just popped a strawberry into his mouth. My eyes instantly dropped to his lips, and I watched him chew the fruit. He did it impossibly slow. When he snaked his tongue out to lick his lips, I could have come just like that. When I looked back to Lewis’s face, his eyes were on me.

The way he looked at me had a fire creeping up my spine so slowly that its burn felt like a blaze that fanned out throughout your body. He knew he had sex appeal, and from his look alone, he knew how to use it as a weapon.

“So--,” Lani stretched out bring my attention to her.

“Maybe we should talk about the elephant in the room.”

Crinkling my brow, I put a piece of the strawberry pancakes that were in front of me into my mouth.

“Last night. Me and Lew. You saw,” Lani enlightened.

My eyes dropped back to my plate as I pretended to intently focus on swirling the strawberries around in the strawberry syrup and powdered sugar mixture.

“It’s okay, Nix; you don’t have to be embarrassed about it. We didn’t think,” Lani explained.

“It’s fine. It’s his penthouse and your—you can do whatever.”

“Funny choice of words,” Lewis murmured before he tilted his head back and dropped a few blueberries into his mouth.

Glancing at him, I saw Lani rest her hand atop his chest as she smiled then whispered something in his ear. Lewis smiled and kissed her. Watching the carnal kiss between them, I couldn’t look away. As I was going to, Lewis’s eyes met yours again. It was probably one of the most sinful things you’d seen. As he was passionately kissing Lani, he was giving me eyes that said come join in.

I have to be imagining that.

Lowering my eyes, I focused on the food and tried to ignore the moans across the table. I usually wasn’t a prude, I was pretty free with my body and inhibitions, but I felt as if I were crowding them for some reason. Like I shouldn’t be there.

“So--,” Lani began again a sing-song in her voice.

She was in such a good mood. Why wouldn’t she be? The effort I’d seen her put into getting all that thing in her mouth said he gave her several inches of reasons to be happy.

“It’s cool, Lani, I understand. What’s the plan for the day?”

Lewis and Lani looked at each other and smirked before Lani sly shrugged.

“I thought we could hop on some ATVs and ride through the desert,” Lewis piped up.

Lani’s eyes widened at the same time mine did.

“That sounds so fun but dirty,” Lani said.

“Getting dirty is all the fun,” Lewis said at the same time I did. Our eyes met again, and I saw the playfulness in them.

“See, Nix gets it,” Lewis added, making you smirk.

“Okay, ATVs in the desert it is,” Lani confirmed at the same time my phone rang.

Glancing down, I realized it was Cesar. I would have rolled my eyes, but right now, I needed the distraction.

“I’m gonna--,” I began pointing to my phone.

“Yeah, you can use the office around the corner if you need some privacy,” Lewis offered.

I rose from the table with my phone in hand and made my way to the office. Before I turned the corner, I heard Lani shout after me.

“That better not be Caesar’s clingy ass. I rebuke him!”

Pinching my lips, I dipped into the room but heard Lewis’s voice before I pulled up the door just a bit.

“Who’s Caesar?”

Leaning on the edge of the executive size desk, I looked out the window and answered.

“Hey, Caesar.”

“Hey there, angel face.”

The sound of the pet name he’d always called me had me smiling for a few moments.

“I went by your apartment earlier. Were you asleep?”

“No, I’m not in Miami.”

The silence on the line stretched.

“Oh yeah? Where you at?”

I thought about it for a little while. Caesar was a jealous guy. He was also territorial. It always led to an argument of some sort. At times I didn’t mind it, but other times, it was a pain in the ass.

“Nix,” Caesar breeched.

“Vegas for the weekend,” I replied.

“You alone, or is Lani with you?”

“What’s with all the questions?”

“I just miss you. I wanted to spend some time together.”

I walked closer to the floor to ceiling window and gazed out over the view of Vegas. The sin in sin city was resting for now, but I knew it would awaken once again by the time six hit.

“C, we talked--,” I began before he cut me off.

“You’re tryna tell me you don’t miss me?”

I almost laughed out loud. I didn’t miss him per se.

“C, let’s not do this.”

“Wow, Nix. Are you fucking kidding me? For the last month and a half, we’ve been working on getting back together.”

“You’ve been working for that, C,” I thundered before lowering my voice a tad bit lower to continue. “You’ve been the one fueling this. I told you that I wasn’t sure. I told you that it might not be a good idea.”

“What am I supposed to listen to? Your words or you spending nights at my apartment?”

He was right. I’d muddied the waters by turning him into my sporadic fuck buddy even though I knew it was a bad idea.

“Horniness was the root of all evil and bad decisions,” I whispered out, pressing my forehead to the glass.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, C. Look, how about we talk when--.”

“Everything okay in here?”

Glancing back, I saw Lewis filling the doorframe. He wore a pair of dark ripped jeans that hugged his long legs so well and a black short-sleeve Henley that accentuated the size of his biceps and showed off how good of a shape he was in. Unconsciously my teeth sunk into my bottom lip. He looked fucking good.

“Who the fuck is that? You said it was you and Lani.”

Cesar’s voice was so loud it had me coming to my senses. I pulled my eyes from Lewis and looked back out the window.

“Yeah, everything is fine,” I replied to Lewis before responding to Cesar. “C, we’ll talk when I get back.”

“No, who the fuck is that? Nix, don’t play with me,” Cesar cautioned. I could hear the jealously in his voice.

“We’re ready to go. Thought I’d come to get you,” Lewis informed.

“Yeah. C, I gotta go.”

Before Cesar could respond, I ended the call and sighed out.

“Are you okay?”

His voice was coming from behind me. When I turned, he was resting on the desk with one leg up and the other planted on the floor.

“Uh—yeah, fine,” I lied.

“You don’t look okay. You didn’t sound okay a little while ago. I hear you shouting.”

Nodding, I shrugged, trying to play off your annoyance. It was your own fault.

“Boyfriend?”

“I told you, I don’t have one of those.”

Lewis nodded and sipped from the glass I just realized he held. From where I stood, it smelled tropical, and you guessed it was some fruit juice.

“Okay, so not a boyfriend—maybe a friend with benefits?”

Lewis quickly clenched his jaw. It was so quick I almost missed it. That one action had my interest piquing all the way up. What was that for?

“I don’t have one of those either. He was a horny mistake,” I admitted before turning my back to him again.

“Ah, horniness. I see. You settled, and now you can’t get rid of him. Sucks to be you.”

I felt his breath brush against my ear, and the scent of pineapple and grapefruit hit your nose. I could also feel the warmth from his body. He was close. Holding my breath, I kept my body as still as possible and waited for the moment to pass.

Lewis now stood beside me, looking out the vast windows you were. Neither of you spoke. You focused on the tease in his voice. He was taunting me. Every so often, the soft clinking of ice against crystal echoed in the room, reminding me that I wasn’t alone. Not that I could ever think that. His scent was too powerful. He smelled earthy like he walked through the thick of Guam's forests, then went to the mountains of Tibet to soak up the scent of freshly fallen snow and fresh air. To top it off, I could pick up faint traces of salt. Not cooking salt but the salt of the ocean. The other subtle hints of rose and some exotic flower only made him that more delectably alluring. It was such a good scent.

“In life, I’ve learned that lesson. Never settle. No matter what it is, never settle. You deserve the best, and the best will come.”

I looked at him at the same moment he looked at me. Our eyes lingered, but we didn’t speak. There didn’t feel like there was a need to.

“Plus, you’re too beautiful for the universe not to bend to your will,” Lewis finished.

My belly fluttered, and without even realizing it, my body swayed sideways. By the time I realized it, I was leaning so far sideway that I lost my balance. With reflexes like nothing I’d ever seen before, Lewis reached out and caught me, pulling me to his body. That was when my skin decided to shoot fire throughout my body. The beauty in his cognac eyes only served as another distracting factor. Now that I was closer, the scents that were subtle before were now more prominent.

I wonder if he tastes like the sea.

The thought was a quick one, but it also quickly ruined you. Feeling my nipples bead underneath my thin shirt, I silently prayed he was none the wiser. A flicker of fire sparked in his eyes that made them appear slightly darker. I watched his tongue slowly snake across his full bottom lip. He was wiser. He’d noticed.

Before he could speak, I pulled away but did it a little too quickly. Lewis’s hand slid from my back to my hips and steadied me. Once I was steady, he didn’t lower them; instead, I felt him squeeze my shapely hips. I thought of moving but I couldn’t. Seconds later, it was Lewis who stepped back, dousing that magnetic energy between you that had encompassed the room.

“Em—you might wanna--change for the desert,” Lewis suggested.

Without a word, I walked out of the room and hurried to my room, the whole time admonishing myself for whatever the hell that was.

Once the three of us got into the chauffeured car, I’d managed to pull myself together and find my chill and detachment. I kept one ear on the conversation in the car, so I could respond when needed. For the most part, I was lost, creating a new blog post about your weekend while going through comments on your post on IG yesterday. You were going to ignore the hot man in the car as long as you could.

When the car rolled up to our destination, my jaw dropped. For as far as I could see, there was nothing but sand. It gave me a sense of peacefulness.

“This is gonna be so lit,” Lewis said as he clapped his hands before he dropped a heavy-handed slap to Lani’s ass, making her squeal and giggle.

“Lewis,” Lani whined as he led the way chuckling to himself.

For the next fifteen minutes, we listened to the rules, safety precautions, and expectations. After there was a quick demo on how to operate the ATV, then we all signed waivers. Once the formalities were out of the way, each of us ran to an ATV. The one I chose was a camo printed one that looked so badass. I was so excited, and once I climbed on, I glanced over to Lewis, whose eyes were already on you, but they were not looking at my eyes. They were much lower on your ass. Scoffing, I shook my head then revved my engine.

“Get into it!”

With that, I sped off, leaving Lewis and Lani in my wake. It didn’t take long for Lani to pull up beside you. she shouted out into the open air then sputtered, spitting out sand. I couldn’t help but laugh at her. Hearing a sound on the other side of me, I turned and saw Lewis. He was now in a tank with his shirt tied around his mouth like a mask. Genius, I thought. I could hear his muffled words but couldn’t make them out. Shrugging, I spoke into my helmet mouth guard.

“Sorry, can’t hear you above the sound of you eating my dust!”

Picking up the speed, I pulled ahead. When they caught up again, I swerved in another direction and did it again and again. Each time I swerved, someone took over the lead. Neither of us kept lead for long. Each one of us had a strong competitive side.

A few hours passed with desert riding. Lewis was the one to be the show-off. He did flips, standing tricks, and other dangerous stunts while Lani and I looked on with our mouths wide. His adventurous side called to me, making it impossible to steer clear of your rapidly increasing thirst for him.

It also didn’t help to watch on as he and Lani kicked up the PDA. Almost every time I glanced around, Lani was either hugging on him from the back of his ATV, or his tongue was down her throat. They were cute, but it only made me think of watching them last night, and that made me think of Lani’s suggestion for a threesome. That suggestion hadn’t left my mind all day. I was still so frustrated that the idea of it was not as gobsmacking as it had been. The more and more Lewis’s eyes found you or parts of my body from across the desert, the further away from shocking you got.

Because of Lani’s whining over how sandy she was, we took a break letting her clean off a bit. I didn’t mind the dirt. While she cleaned up, it left Lewis and me alone. We played around on the ATVs, just acting like kids. It was a lot of fun. After a while, I suggested we stop to capture some of our surroundings for my blog and social media. Lewis agreed, wanting to get his own shots.

I took video after video and even recorded a few short ones before taking several selfies. When I looked over to Lewis, I watched as he unbuttoned his jeans to peel them off quickly. There was no way I could look away. I was confused as to what he was doing and, honestly, who would look away. Once free from the jeans, he pulled off his tank leaving the scarf he’d worn from before.

“How is it possible for him to look like he belongs in the desert too?”

The wind picked up, and the sand blew around him as he stared out toward where the sun shone. My eyes traveled over every dip and curve of his perfectly lean and toned body. No wonder Lani was in heavy lust. He looked like he not only broke backs but possibly parts of the female anatomy.

Lewis looked back, and for a few moments, it looked like he was walking in slow motion.

Holy Shit.

Before I even realized it, he was standing in front of me.

“You got a little drool,” Lewis teased before he hopped onto the bumper of your ATV.

“Whatever. You wish.”

It was a weak rebuttal and nowhere near believable. We sat in silence for a little while, taking in the scenery.

“It’s beautiful huh.”

“Yeah. Makes you feel like the only human left on earth,” I added.

“Well, if I were the only human left on earth, I’d want you with me.”

Our eyes met again, and my heart raced, making me look away. Again, the silence stretched until you found something to say.

“I’m really sorry about last night,” I began.

Lewis snorted, making you look at him again with confusion etched on my face.

“What’s so funny?”

Lewis didn’t speak right away; instead, he studied me as if he were looking for something. He sighed then licked his lips.

“Do you know what I see in your eyes?”

“What?”

“You’re not sorry.”

My jaw dropped, and my eyes bugged. “What!”

“Yeah. You’re not sorry you saw. You’re sorry you got caught,” Lewis cockily informed.

“Caught? What am I a child? It’s not like I snuck out there to spy.”

“No, I know that. I do know, though, that if I hadn’t looked up and seen you, you probably would have continued watching.”

He got me there. I probably would have. It was a good show.

“Again, your eyes say it all. Not only are they completely hypnotizing, but they’re also very expressive.”

Was he hitting on me?

The look on his face said he might have been, but his eyes were masked. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“All day, I’ve been trying to figure out if your physical reaction to my touch is an instinctual thing or if it’s more.”

Wow, I thought. The man was so self-assured. He didn’t come off insecure at all. It was both attractive and slightly annoying. No man should be that confident. I looked away and hopped off the ATV, sinking into the sand. Before I could walk off, I felt his body behind me, barely touching me, and his hand spread across my stomach, keeping me in place.

Oh, fuck. This is not what I needed right now.

Lewis didn’t speak. He just remained perfectly still. The longer his hand remained on my stomach, the hotter it seemed to get. I didn’t know how long passed with us standing like that, but I was sure it was long enough for the heat from his hand to sear away the high waist of my biker shorts. It had to have been. It felt like there was no barrier between his hand and your skin.

On your left, you felt his other hand slowly snake up the length of your arm. Where it went, it left an agonizing burn that slowly at away at you. By the time Lewis’s hand made it to your shoulder, he moved your hair so his head could gently touch the side of your face. Still, the smell of his skin wasn’t masked by the sand all around him. It hadn’t done anything at all. I heard him take a deep inhale before he moaned.

“I know what you want, Nix. I can see it every time I look into your eyes. Fuck I can feel it. All you have to do is say the words.”

I could feel his touch on my neck as if he really did touch me, but alas, he never did. He was so close. All he had to do was tip out his tongue. Lewis released a guttural groan.

“Put us both out of our misery, Sunshine,” Lewis finished before he released you and walked away toward an approaching Lani.

“Son of a bitch.”

~~~~~~~~

It was lunchtime, and I was starving and hornier than I’d been before we left. Only now it wasn't because I’d inadvertently saw Lewis and Lani together, no it was because of Lewis’s words. I had no idea what he meant by he knew what I wanted. How the hell could he know that? I didn’t even fully know what I wanted. Every few hours, it changed.

When Lewis, Lani, and I got back to the penthouse, we showered and changed, then made it to another beautiful restaurant. Deciding not to pretend I were less hungry than I was, I ordered whatever I wanted. As we all ate, the conversation was never strained. Lani told stories of the countless adventures we’d had, all the while never leaving out not one embarrassing detail. Throughout the stories, Lewis looked genuinely interested. He listened with a tuned ear and sincere interest. I liked watching the different emotions light up his face. It was like reliving the memory but through someone else’s eyes.

Every once in a while, Lewis’s eyes found mine, but again they were masked and almost detached. It was an interesting change from earlier, one that had me doubting what I thought I saw and heard.

At times when he spoke to me, his choice of words always threw me. When asked if he wanted more of the dim sum, he looked at me and said, “I want it.” When Lani complimented her food, Lewis looked at me, bit his bottom lip, and said, “Bet it tastes good.” I squirmed, shifted, and tried to handle it throughout lunch, but the last thing he said threw you. We were all eating dessert. I’d chosen something simple like a sorbet while he and Lani went in on some decadent chocolate, vanilla, and cherry concoction. They took turns teasing me about wanting it. It was Lewis who locked eyes with me and rocked all reserve with his “you want this deep inside.”

What the fuck was I supposed to say to that? I had no idea, and he knew I had nothing. He also knew he’d had an effect. He’d had such a profound effect that my panties were now uncomfortably soaked. Asshole, I thought. He knew he was one; the sly smirk on his face said it. You watched him dip his spoon into his mouth and moan. He was pleased with himself.

After lunch, I had steam to blow, so gambling was my suggestion. What else would bring almost as much pleasure as sex than winning more money than you came with? We went from table to table, placing bets, dropping chips, and claiming double what was wagered. Lani was a pro at Roulette, which she proudly showed off, winning two grand like it was easy. I was a monster at Blackjack. No matter the casino, or the deck of cards, or even those around me. I dominated the Blackjack table for almost two hours, winning hand after hand until management capped my winnings at six grand. I understood. They didn’t want me cleaning them out. Lewis was an ace at Poker and Craps and gladly let his cocky side.

Before every roll of the dice, Lewis held them out for both Lani and me to blow on. The first time he held them out to me, I was confused. That was when he said, “Blow me.” The look he gave me had way too much effect on me. His amusement from my delayed reaction was evident, and he enjoyed making you pause. Roll after roll had him winning game after game at the Craps table. Every time he won, Lani wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged his head to her breasts.

Their antics brought so many eyes, including mine, but I was having so much fun winning that I didn’t care when Lani pulled me into a sandwiched hug with Lewis in the middle leaving his head was pressed between yours and Lani’s breasts. Lewis crept his hand around my hip, resting it right at my hip bone. That was when I could have sworn I felt lips slide across my nipple. The instantaneous reaction began with my nipple hardening and my back arching slightly, all while a soft moan rolled from my lips. When I glanced down, Lewis was looking at me, and for a second, I forgot where I was and who I was.

Lani cleared her throat, pulling my attention to her. The look on her face said all you needed to know. She was liking the way things were going.

When I shied away from Lani and Lewis, I tested out a few of the slot machines wanting to try your luck there. It took some time for your streak to start, but there was no stopping it once it did. You struck gold every time you pulled down the handle on the side of the machine.

“Either you’ve got the Midas touch, or you’re rigging the machine.”

You turned and saw Lewis standing there looking at the machine.

“How would I have rigged it?”

He shrugged and leaned on the seat I was sitting in. “There are ways.”

“I just have the Midas, I guess.”

Lewis smiled and nodded. “Looks like it. How much have you won today?”

“More than you make in a month,” I teased.

The laugh Lewis let out brought so many eyes to us, and he didn’t seem to care. I liked that he didn’t pay attention to others and focused on being himself.

“Wow, you have quite the sass, huh.”

I shrugged and pulled the lever again. We watched the screen as the images rolled in, showing off another win.

“I should keep you by my side at all times. You just may be the luckiest woman I’ve ever met.”

Before I could answer, another voice to my left drew my attention.

“I second that.”

He was tall, with a perfect jawline that was so chiseled it could have cut steel. His eyes were a deep green close to the color of seaweed, and his smile said he should work as a game show host or something.

“Name’s Brian. I couldn’t help but watch you. You’re gorgeous.”

On your right, Lewis scoffed in such a way there was no misinterpreting what it meant.

“Uh—Lynix,” I replied.

“Such an exotic name, almost reminds me of a Lynx cat, of course, sexier,” Brian added.

“Oh boy, here we go,” Lewis chimed in. I glanced at him with a curious look, wondering why he was acting like this.

“You are?”

Lewis turned to the newcomer crossing his arms over his chest, making his biceps pop in the polo shirt he wore.

“Don’t worry about all that. No one asked you to come over here.”

My jaw dropped because that sound a lot like possessiveness. Brian stood tall and turned to Lewis as well.

“Who can stay away from a beautiful woman like her? All I wanted to do was get next to greatness,” Brian slid in, making me smile. He was smooth. Looking at Lewis’s face, he didn’t look amused.

Right when Lewis was about to say something, Lani came by giving Brian the once over.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” I answered before Lewis could. Lani looked at me then, Brian. It was her asking if she wanted him gone. I slightly shook my head. I wanted to play this out.

“Who’s your friend?”

“This is Brian. He was just about to take me for a drink. Right, Brian?”

Brian looked surprised by that, but not for long. A few seconds after I said it, his smile spread again.

“Absolutely.” He held out his arm and waited for me to take it. When I did, I glanced at Lewis, whose jaw was clenched and eyes blazing. You knew a displeased man when you saw one, and he was definitely displeased.

While I had a drink with Brian at one of the bars and listened to him talk about his time in Vegas, I saw Lani and Lewis at the bar as well. They were drinking and whispering, having a grand ol’ time, but every so often, Lewis glanced over to you with the only annoyed look on his face. When he did, Lani looked amused, giving me a look that said she peeped it. Halfway through my drink, my phone went off.

MSG Lani: Pity fuck huh. 🙄

I looked at her, narrowed my eyes then gave her the same eye roll she gave me in text. She wasn’t funny, not one bit. However, she might have a point, I thought. As I continued my conversation, Lani and Lewis came over to join you. Lani went on Brian’s right while Lewis came up to your left. He was close enough for me to smell the dark rum that swirled with his cologne. While Lani talked to Brian, he focused all his attention on her.

“Another horny mistake?”

His voice was a whisper that made it easier to smell the rum he was drinking. Lewis took another sip from his heavy crystal glass, but he didn’t look at me. He kept his eyes on the plethora of bottles decorating the wall of the bar.

“Who said I was horny?”

Lewis then looked at me and smirked. “Aren’t you?”

I looked over the features of his face and got lost on his lips. They looked soft and well cared for.

Jesus, I’m lusting.

“Are you?”

Lewis took another sip then sucked in a slow breath through his mouth. He didn’t speak for several moments. He just stared into my eyes like he was looking for something.

“If you only knew,” Lewis whispered before looking away to finish his glass of Rum this time.

“I’m sure Lani can help with that. There are plenty of corners, although I doubt you two need corners or privacy.”

In seconds you felt Lewis’s breath on my ear. “What do you need, Nix?”

Holy Shit!

Though I tried, I couldn’t get any words to pass my lips. Not one.

“All you have to do is say the words, tell me,” Lewis whispered again, his lips softly grazing my ear.

My heart was racing so fast that I was sure there was no way he didn’t hear it. I was also sure that he could smell my arousal. I was that wet. Someone’s phone went off, and the unexpected sound broke the tension of the moment. Clearing my throat, I stood and adjusted my skirt.

“Dinner. I think we should get to dinner,” I stuttered, walking away.

I needed to get upstairs to that bedside drawer, and I needed to get there now. The car ride was the longest. As I sat there beside Lani, I couldn’t stop squirming. Every move I made, the slickness between my legs only turned me on more.

MSG: Did you tell him?

MSG Lani: Tell who what?

MSG: Don’t play innocent with me, Lani. Did you tell him?

Lani looked at me, and I narrowed my eyes. There was no way she didn’t bring up her threesome plan to him. He’d gone from mildly seductive just from his aura to extremely panty soaking in one day. Lani rolled her eyes and tapped into her phone.

MSG Lani: I did, but before you get mad, it wasn’t any serious. I just said I mentioned it to you.

MSG: Lani!

MSG Lani: Don’t be mad. It’s no big deal.

MSG: What did you say?

MSG Lani: That I’d asked, and you turned me down. He wanted to know why, and I said you had your reasons.

I didn’t fully believe her.

MSG Lani: I promise it’s no big deal.

Sighing, I slipped my phone between my knees, leaned back, and willed the car to hurry up.

Once we got back to the hotel, Lani said she’d meet us upstairs because she wanted to book a spa treatment for tomorrow. I didn’t need to be told twice. The elevator ride with Lewis wasn’t uncomfortable; it was more tense than anything else. Both of our eyes remained on the changing dial as the floors ticked away. Neither of us spoke. When I did have the courage to look over at him, I saw that his jaw clenched, his arms crossed, but his back was straight as an arrow.

Unexpectedly Lewis looked over to me, and it felt like he was daring me to do something. His lips were curled into a sly sort of smile before he bit his bottom lip. My belly fluttered, making me drop my eyes, but when I did, it landed it on something unexpected. The bugle in his pants had almost all of your reserve falling, leaving only one measly ounce. Thankfully, the doors opened into the hall leading to the penthouse. I made a mad dash toward the door and inside. Not sparing another look at Lewis, I hightailed it to my bedroom.

Once inside, I stripped and hurried into the shower, hoping that the water would help with the slickness I felt that only fueled my arousal even more. It was next to impossible to stop thinking about someone bending me over in the shower, but somehow you managed to focus on getting clean rather than getting dirtier.

After my shower, I only felt less wet but still horny as ever. I was barely able to get through putting on my makeup. My hands kept shaking at the worst times, and my concentration was shot to shit. I’d wanted my makeup to match the dress I planned on wearing, but I couldn’t even get that together for the life of me.

“Get your shit together, Nix.”

Another few minutes found me just giving up on the elaborate eye makeup I’d wanted and dropping my brush in frustration. I rested my forehead on my hand and took a few deep breaths.

“Fuck it!”

I got up, walked over to my bed, and laid down. Once I reached inside the drawer to get my vibrator. Instead of using it our the gate, I slipped my fingers between my legs, only becoming half surprised to find I was already as wet as I’d been before I got into the shower. I ran my fingers up and down my slickened slit once, then twice and third. Each time I shuddered from the delicate pleasure that rolled through me. A soft but husky moan escaped my throat.

Dipping my fingers into my heat, I brought the slickness back to my clit and circled the desperate bud. It wasn’t long before I’d closed my eyes and focused on the pleasure that was increasing by leaps and bounds with each passing second. Dripping my thighs back to the bed, I sped my movements making tight circles rather than the bigger ones from before.

“Oh my god, yes!”

There was no way I was going to last much longer. I could already feel the tension filling the pit of my stomach. Dipping my fingers back inside my cavern, I used them to replicate what I imagined Lewis did. At the thought of him, my eyes flew open to stare at the ceiling. While Lani was giving him head, I hadn’t been able to see just what he was blessed with. The only indication I’d gotten was from the constant gagging Lani did. She had said that he was more endowed than anyone she’d been with. I was curious now.

My fingers had sped their plunge, and with it, so did the moans that fell from my lips. Soon your moans and whimpers cascaded from you. By the time I wondered if Lewis could hear me, I was too far gone. It was then I looked down my body to find Lewis at the door watching me. I should have screamed and clamped my legs shut or even hid from shame or embarrassment, but I didn’t do any of that.

Instead, I bit my bottom lip and slowly took my fingers from my body to bring them back to my clit.

“Mmmm, yes.”

Lewis took a few steps more into my room and toward the bed. Our eyes never left one another, and the longer he stared, the more turned on you were becoming. When Lewis made it to the bed's foot, his eyes dropped to your sex, and another whimper escaped you.

“Fuck!”

His voice was strangled, and his eyes on fire. Earlier it looked like it was anger or annoyance, but now it was neither of those.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful, Nix.”

Lewis dropped to the floor, coming eye level with your sex. He then took a deep inhale.

“Mmmm, you smell incredible. Do you taste as good as you smell?”

The combination of his voice and his words had my back arch slightly off the bed.

“Does it feel good, Nix?”

I nodded.

“Tell me how good.”

“So—So—good.”

Lewis groaned, focused on your pussy. He looked almost transfixed. After a few seconds, his jaw dropped, and I could have sworn I saw a little drool at the corner of his mouth, but before it dribbled, he closed it again.

“Goddamn, you’re so wet. Be a good girl and show me.”

I brought my hand away, dipped it into my heat, and pulled it back to show him the slickness that coated my fingers. I heard an audible growl fill the room. The fact that it came from him only ruined me more. Dipping my fingers back inside, I did what I knew would get me off.

“That’s right. Fuck that pussy, Sunshine. Show me how you like it.”

Bringing my other hand into the mix, I circled my clit then looked at Lewis again. He looked like he’d inched closer, and I wanted him to bury his face in to take over.

“Mmm, you’re so tight, I can tell. Spread that pussy open for me.”

Doing as I was told, I spread it, but I never slowed the tight circles around my clit. I was so close.

“You’re gonna come? Come for me, Nix. Let me see how beautiful you are when you come.”

My whimpers turned into whines, and my tight circles turned sloppy and staggered as did the speed of my fingers thrusting in and out of my sopping core. In seconds my toes curled, and I’d bent off the bed as if I was a bridge.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck Lewis!”

My body shook for several long moments as I rode the waves of ecstasy and relished the tingles that spread through my body. I’d been holding a lot of tension, and now I could feel the little bubbles popping in thin air as they exited my body. When I looked back at Lewis, he was so close. Inching up, I withdrew me soaked digits and brought them to Lewis’s lips. Without needing to be told, he opened his mouth and sucked each and every one of my fingers clean.

“Mmm, you taste amazing. Let me clean you up and eat that pretty pussy baby. I want it so bad.”

That was what you wanted to. It amazed you how badly you wanted him to clean up the mess you’d made of yourself. As you opened your mouth to speak, you heard Lani shout your name. Lewis looked as if he’d found his senses. He rubbed his forehead and sighed before he stood from your bed foot.

“I’m—sorry.”

With that, he was gone. Though you were satisfied, I could feel the heat rising again.

An hour later found me dressed, collected, and at a steakhouse with Lani and Lewis. Thank to my release, my body was more relaxed now, but my mind was a chaotic erotic nightmare. I couldn’t stop replaying what happened in my bedroom and he gall I’d had to feed him my fingers to clean off. The fire I’d seen in his eyes and the yearning I’d head in his voice was something I hadn’t expected.

Would it really be a pity fuck?

Lani flirted with Lewis using her seductive touches and whispers, and I could tell that he was hanging on but barely. Deciding to toy with him a little, I did what Lani did, but more subtly. When she ate off his plate, I did too. When she held his hand on top of the table, I slyly allowed my body to touch him underneath the table. When Lani leaned into him, I leaned over him to take a piece of food from Lani’s plate. The whole time I knew that he could see my cleavage.

By the time we’d moved on to dessert, Lewis was the one squirming and downing his drink like his thirst was unquenchable. I loved seeing him squirm. He thought he had this power and control. He needed to be humbled to realize just which sex had the power in the world. When Lewis went to talk to the owner of the restaurant, I filled Lani in and tried to get whatever information she had. I knew she couldn’t be an innocent bystander, and she wasn’t.

“I can’t believe you told him that.”

Lani nodded. I saw the remnants of his drink and finished the glass. The burn of the dark liquor was intense against my tongue.

“So, he’s been acting like this all day on purpose?”

“Lani smirked, giving the answer away. I couldn’t help but snort, bringing my hand to my head, smacking myself.

“If you needed more evidence that you’re attracted to him or him attracted to you, then you have this entire day. Hell, you have the casino.”

I looked at Lani silently, asking her to continue.

“I saw how he was when that guy came over and flirted. Lewis can keep his cool about a lot of things, but I can always tell when he’s jealous.”

“Jealous!? Lani, get real. That’s yo man. He wouldn’t be jealous.”

Lani pulled me closer to her and rested her chin on my shoulder. “Why do you think I was so adamant about you coming this weekend?”

Glancing to her, my brows crinkled, wondering what the hell she was talking about.

“As I said, I’m only cool with sharing with you. A while ago, I knew Lew would like you, and I couldn’t think of anything better than having you by my side while we have some fun.”

Snorting, I shook my head. “Lani--,” I began.

“Stop frontin. You know you like him. You know this whole day you’ve been horny and wet for him.”

At that moment, a thought filled me, making me gasp loudly, snapping my head to Lani.

“Oh my god, did you put him up to this Nalani?”

“Damn, my whole name, huh.”

“You did!”

I dropped my forehead into my hands while resting my elbows on the table. I couldn’t believe this. It kind of felt like my best friend was pimping me out to her sexy as hell fuck buddy.

“Lani, you’re pimping me out.”

“I am not. Think of this as more than sex. This could be something.”

Rolling my eyes, I sighed, “Like what, a contractual fuck buddies situation?”

“Shut up. No. Like he flies us where he goes, and we soak up the culture of the world while enjoying his company and the perks of it,” Lani explained, raising her eyebrows for emphasis.

“Oh my god. We don’t need anyone to help us soak up the culture of the world, Lani. We do good on our own.”

“True. It’s just—sometimes, it’d be nice if someone took care of us the way we take care of ourselves. Ya’ know?”

I did know. I understood her completely. While it was great being able to do things and get things for yourself, it was also nice to be taken care of by someone on a different level. Sighing, I sat back and pondered her words. She had a point. Maybe I needed to just give in to what I really wanted. From across the restaurant, I could see Lewis talking to the owner. They were laughing like they’d been long time friends. The comfort between the two was evident. When he glanced back to Lani and me and pointed us out, the owner said something to him with a smile on his face—a smile Lewis returned with a nod.

“Let’s head out. I think we can find a club that’s more up to our speed,” I said to Lani, raising one of my eyebrows.

The excitement on Lani’s face said it all. She knew what time it was.

When Lewis came back over, we took a picture with the owner. Lani and I were in front, stooping down like the Charlie’s Angel’s Charlie’s Angels wished they could be, while the two of them stood behind us. It was a dope picture.

In the car, I whispered to the driver where to take us while Lani distracted him so he wouldn’t suspect a thing. Thankfully the drive wasn’t too long since everything in Sin City was in short distance. When the car pulled up, and we piled out, I watched Lewis’s jaw drop when he saw the name of the establishment.

Treasures.

Lewis looked at both Lani and me as if we’d grown a pair of extra heads. Lani wrapped her arm around my waist and led me to the door.

“Enter if you dare,” I teased, walking inside with a giggling Lani.

Once inside, we waited for Lewis to catch up. It was only a few seconds before he was behind us, draping his arms over both our shoulders.

“Now, why would you ladies lure me here?”

“Lure? Did we lure, Nix?”

“Not at all. If we were to lure you, it would look like this.” I began turning around to face him while walking backward.

“Are you coming?”

Lani was the first to join my side, and then Lewis did the same with a wide smile. We walked to one of the empty lounges and sat with him in the middle.

“Hi there, welcome to Treasures. I’m Pinky,” began a beautiful woman with pink hair, cheek piercings, and deep brown eyes.

As I looked lower over her mahogany skin, my eyes couldn’t help but take in her incredible breasts that were barely concealed by her bedazzled bikini top. I didn’t know if they were implants of natural, but it didn’t matter. I bet they brought in plenty of horny men.

“Hello, Pinky,” Lewis replied, leaning back on the lounger with a smile.

“What can I get you three? Food, drinks, one of the girls?”

Lewis looked at Lani, then me licked his lips and smiled again. “Whatever you ladies want.”

Lani and I exchanged looks for a few moments communicating nonverbally.

“How about a bottle of dark rum to get us started and maybe a girl for a dance,” Lani requested.

“Sure thing? Any preference?”

Lani and I smiled and replied, “Black and beautiful.”

Lewis chuckled, “I third that.”

When Pinky left, Lani leaned to Lewis and took out something rolled from his sports jacket's inner pocket. Lewis offered her the light, and I watched as she took a few puffs then released the smoke. When she did, I could tell just what it was.

“Who knew weed was your cup of tea,” I said, leaning back and crossing my legs.

“Ha, there’s plenty you don’t know about me,” Lewis answered before he took a few puffs of his own. When he finished, he held it out to me.

“Let’s hope by the time the sun comes up; you know me a lot better.”

Those were more than empty words. I took the blunt and took several long drags from it, closing my eyes to allow the substance to work its way to my brain.

Who knows, the odds of that statement becoming true were getting more and more likely.

Fifteen or so minutes later, once the three of you had the bottle of rum open and taking turns gulping from the three hundred dollar bottle, a dancer named Lioness was doing her thing on the small table before us. Her outfit was perfect and showed off all her best assets—everything. When she approached Lani, she shook her ass in her face, to which Lani slapped one of her cheeks. Almost instantly, she gasped and held her hands back in an apologetic way. Lioness didn’t seem angry; instead, she sat in Lani’s lap and proceeded to give her a lapdance. Lani’s squeals said she was having a good time.

“Oh no,” I whined, holding up the blunt that was now too small to hold.

“Not to worry, sunshine, daddy’s got more,” Lewis said, showing the inside of his jacket.

I smiled and reached for one coming even closer to his face. Glancing up, our eyes met, and that’s where they stayed.

“You’re blazed,” Lewis said with a wide smile, one I returned.

“Don’t laugh at me.”

His smile softened, and his hand came to my cheek. “I’m not babygirl. I have better things I’d rather do than laugh at you.”

From the side, I saw Lani nod her head, and Lioness approaching like a predator coming for her prey.

“I hope this lapdance is one of them,” I said, nudging my head, making him look back to see Lioness approach to dance in front of him.

“Wow.”

Lewis leaned back and looked over her body, which gave me the time to light the new blunt. After taking a few puffs, Lani whined for her turn. We traded her for the blunt and me for the Rum. When Lioness sat in Lewis’s lap, he laughed. While he looked to be having a good time, he didn’t look to be on the brink of losing control. I got up and slinked around Lioness to Lani. As she took a puff, she held it out to me to take one. After I did, I gulped a mouthful of rum and moaned as it burned its path down my throat.

Lani stood and began swaying to the music in front of you. The instrumental version of Desperado was blaring in the club with a slowed-down dub. It sounded a lot more seductive than the original. Lani took the rum and handed me the blunt. As I took another drag, I leaned my head back and moaned. When I looked over to Lewis on the couch, his eyes weren’t on Lioness. They were on Lani and me. That was when the most devious idea popped into my head. Whispering to Lani to clue her in, she looked at me and gave me her sinister smile.

I dug into my clutch, took out a few bills, then walked over to Lioness, tucked it into her jeweled thong, and whispered a thank you. Her smile was soft. She got the hint. Lani and I walked toward Lewis, held out our hands, and waited for him to take the bait. It wasn’t long before he did. Pulling him to us, Lewis’s body collided with ours.

“Not interested in the dancer, baby?”

Lewis smiled, took the blunt from my lips, and took a long pull from it then smiled.

“How can I be when you two are right in front of me.”

“I think he wants a show of his own, Lani.”

Her smile widened before she bit her bottom lip. “Then follow us, daddy. We’ll give you a show you’ll never forget.”

Lewis’s smile slipped as he looked between the two of us. We’d sure gotten his undivided attention now. We turned then walked away to one of the rooms that were marked “private.”

Once inside, the mirrored walls threw our reflections back. I walked to the mirror and fluffed my hair, and rubbed my lips together. My body was tingling, which was normal for when I drank and smoked. It was a pleasant tingle, one that had me feeling loose.

“Oh Nixy,” Lani sing-songed making me turn to see her at the music player.

The song that she’d chosen was a personal favorite. She walked to me while circling her hips. Once to me, she walked around me once, then went around to my back and placed her hand on my hip. Following her rhythm, I circled my hips with her and handed her the rum bottle. As she drank, I bent forward just a little, poking my ass out and onto her. Lani quickly slapped my ass, making me laugh. Soon we were both giggle loudly until Lewis’s figure in the center of the room caught our eye.

“Forgot about me?”

“Never, daddy,” Lani said as she walked to him, making me follow.

Once in front of him, Lani rolled her hips, turning her back to him to bend forward. Lewis groaned then slapped her ass, making her moan. When he looked at me, I walked to his back then bent over his shoulder, making my breast press against him. Looking at him, I saw the desire in his eyes. I smiled and took the blunt from him, then went beside Lani. As I puffed, she went behind me to trail her hands down the center of my body until she turned me to her. The look on her face was easy to read.

We both looked at Lewis before our lips met in a slow and teasing kiss. This wasn’t the first time we’d kissed. It wasn’t a big deal for either of us. When we pulled apart, we both looked back to Lewis and blew out the smoke we’d transferred and split. He didn’t look like he was breathing, but the bulge in his pants said he was alive.

“Like what you see, daddy?”

“Come here, princess.”

Lani walked to Lewis. Once she was before him, he pulled her down by the back of her neck and kissed her intensely, making a slow heat roll through your belly and across your limbs. Before the kiss got too hot, he pulled away, looked at me, and smiled.

“You too, sunshine.”

I slowly walked toward him and stood beside Lani again. He didn’t touch me, though. His eyes slowly roamed my body, drinking in every curve. Lani sat on one of Lewis’s spread thighs.

“Dance for us, Nix.”

Not needing to be told twice, I turned my back to them and swayed to the music and slowly wined my hips, bringing myself to the floor to slowly stand up while bending, giving them a good view of my ass.

“Goddamn, girl,” Lewis groaned out before he moaned.

Looking back at them, I winked then faced them to continue my seductive dance. Lani stood and joined me, poking out her ass onto me. I brought my hand down to return the slap she’d given me earlier. The action had her moaning. Slowly I brought my hands up her body, all the while never taking my eyes off of Lewis. He smiled and blew out the smoke making the room even hazier. With every breath I took, my high was only increasing, and my inhibitions decreasing. Bringing my lips to Lani’s ears, I whispered.

“Let’s do it.”

By the time we made it back to the penthouse, we were all higher than before and laughing up a storm. Once inside, Lani was the one to shout for the pool before she took off. Lewis was right behind her, leaving me to walk behind them. When I got outside, they’d already gotten into the pool, and Lani was in Lewis’s arms. The two were heavily making out. Their moans echoed off the water, leaving me to stand and watch for a few moments.

When their eyes turned to me, Lani slipped from his arms to disappear under the water. His eyes drank you in, and the way he looked at me made boy heart race, my belly knot, and my sex quiver.

“The water’s great. Come in,” Lewis beckoned as he approached the edge of the pool.

I stood at the edge, watching him swim to me. Before he got there, he stopped, and I could see Lani under the water claiming his cock as her mouth’s possession. She sure wasted no time, I thought. Lewis moaned then rolled his neck. With his head dropped back, I was able to take in the way his shoulders stretched out and how his arms were the perfect combination of power and beauty. The glow of the blue light that was in and around the pool only accentuated his sexiness. When Lewis looked at me, I was about ready to see what the fuck Lani’s screams were all about and if he deserved such praise.

I unzipped the side of the dress and allowed it to fall from my body to reveal the neon green of my lacy thong.

“Jesus, you’re gonna kill me, sunshine.”

I sat at the edge and dangled my legs in the water, and watched the wavy image of Lani, giving him head.

“She sure can hold her breath long.”

Lewis smiled and bucked his hips forward. Lani came up a few seconds later.

“Lew, not fair. You could have killed me,” Lani whined to a smiling Lewis.

“Look.”

Lani looked back at me and smiled. Lewis leaned to her ear and spoke. “Told you, daddy would make you get what you wanted.”

Lani smiled wider and swam to me. When she got close, she flung water at me, leaving it to train down my body. Lani hopped up onto the stone beside me and sat down as well. She was completely naked.

“I remember these,” Lani began snapping the waistband of my thong.

“You should. It was barely two weeks ago we got them,” I replied.

“They still look cute on you, especially against your skin. Uugh, so fucking gorgeous, right daddy.”

Our eyes went back to Lewis, who still hadn’t moved. His eyes were looking between us as if he didn’t know what to say or do. He slowly approached us, then stopped. His eyes roamed my naked upper half until they dripped to the garment in question. When I saw him bite his bottom lip, he nodded.

“So fucking gorgeous.”

I couldn’t help but smile. He had a way with words.

“Can I?”

He looked as if he were holding his breath, waiting for my answer. When I nodded, he closed the gap between us. Trailing his finger from my shin up over my knee and along my thigh, they reached the waistband of my underwear, and he snapped them purposefully. Lewis kissed my knee then moved over to Lani. He hoisted her legs out of the water, pressed them back, and got up close and personally with her pussy.

His eyes locked with mine before he licked along her sex, making her moan. He did it again and again, then sucked Lani’s clit into his mouth. Her gasp was loud. He sucked her like there was no tomorrow, and with every move he made, Lani whimpered before her hand dropped to the top of his head.

“Right there, daddy.”

As he lapped at her core, he kept his eyes on me. The longer he gave her pleasure, the wetter I became, and the wetter I became, the more I wanted him to touch me. After several long minutes, he still hadn’t, and my frustration was beginning to show. Cupping my breast, I tweaked my nipple at the same time Lani’s whines increased.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me come, daddy. Right there!”

Lewis’s eyes were dark, and when he pulled back from Lani, his lips were wet. Lani whined.

“Lewwww!”

He dropped a slap to her clit, silencing her completely while having her drop her head back.

“Oh, fuck.”

Lewis smiled and came back over to me while cleaning his lips.

“Do you remember what I told you this afternoon?”

Thinking back, I remembered. When he saw that I had, he smiled again.

“All you have to do is say the words,” Lewis repeated.

The way he looked at me only solidified my decision and fueled my desire.

“I want you,” I said. His smile widened, but he didn’t move.

“While I love the way that sounds. Those aren’t the words.”

“Lew, you know she wants you just--.”

Again Lewis slapped Lani’s clit, and her body jerked, and a hand instinctively dropped between her legs. Lewis shot her a warning look, and in seconds she’s put her hands back on the stone surface. Lewis looked back at me and released a breath.

“I want you to fuck me.”

Lewis smiled, showing his perfect teeth. He approached, sliding his hands over my thighs to the waistband of the thong to pull it off of me. When he did, he tossed it behind him, not caring where it landed.

“Show me that pretty pussy, sunshine.”

You spread your legs but not entirely. Lewis tsked.

“I know you can do better than that.”

I fully spread them and watched him gawk at me like he hadn’t seen it before. When he brought his lips to my skin, he kissed my inner thighs, prolonging my desperate need for contact.

“You’re so wet, babygirl. Is this for me?”

I bit my bottom lip and nodded. “All for you,” I whispered.

“Mmm, I’ve been thinking about this pussy all day.”

Once the words were out, Lewis buried his face between my thighs. Once I felt his lips, I dropped my head back to the stone and allowed the pleasure he gave me without much effort to fill me. Moaning loudly, my body quivered. Cupping my breast, I tweaked my nipple again, edging my arousal higher.

“Fuck I was right. You do taste incredible.”

Lewis quickly flicked his tongue against my clit, making me whimper louder. It felt as if his tongue moved at lightning pace, and with every flick, he somehow made my body even hotter. I felt like I was on fire, but I didn’t hate it. I loved it. Dropping my hand to his head, I held on because I felt the stirs of an unexpected orgasm. Lewis moaned against my skin, making me tumble off the into ecstasy.

“Fuuuuck!”

My scream was not alone. Looking to my right, I saw Lewis plunging his fingers in and out of Lani’s core as his mouth still worked magic on you. Lani panted, writhed, and screeched.

“Yes, daddy. I’m gonna come. Yes!”

Lewis didn’t slow his fingers or his tongue. Instead, he continued and sucked the soul out of your body while having Lani cream all over his fingers.

When he pulled back, we laid there panting, trying to catch our breath. Once I did, I looked down, expecting to see Lewis, but only saw an empty pool. Looking to my right, I watched as he approached in all his glory, finally getting my answer I’d been wondering about. He was hunger better than Seabiscuit.

“Holy Fuck, Lani.”

“I’ve been trying to tell you.”

“No need to tell her anything. Seeing is believing. Your knees,” Lewis instructed.

Lani seemed to know the drill, but I did not. I watched Lani get on her knees then I looked back at Lewis. He just watched me and waited for me to obey. I mirrored Lani and feasted my eyes on his manhood. It looked heavy, long, and thick. Lord have mercy, I thought.

“I know you want this princess. Do you, babygirl?”

Deciding not to answer, I wrapped my hand around his shaft, drawing a strangled groan from Lewis. It was as heavy as it looked. I ran my hand up and down, familiarizing myself with him, then I tipped my tongue out to swirl around his swollen head.

“Aaah, yes, babygirl,” Lewis whispered before he whimpered.

I moaned on him then dipped my mouth down his length taking him as far as I dared. Lodging him in my throat, I tightened it and hummed. Lewis groaned deeply, then laced his hands behind my head, keeping him snugly where he wanted to be. When his groan turned to a whimper, he released me, making me pull back to catch my breath.

Lani rose onto her knees and took over, mirroring her same movements from the night I’d seen her. Instead of sitting there and letting her have all the fun, I dipped under her mouth to capture one of his balls in my mouth to suck on it gently. Lewis sighed out long and loud and placed a hand on the back of both Lani’s and my head.

“Mmm, that’s it. Suck this dick, Lani.”

She moaned her acceptance.

“Mmm, yes, Nix. Just like that.”

Lani pulled back, and we switched positions. For the next few minutes, Lani and I alternated between her at his balls and me on his dick and vise versa. When Lewis pulled away and stepped back, he helped us up and led us upstairs to the bedroom. Once inside, Lewis pulled me into his body to kiss my lips. His moved expertly over mine, sucking, nibbling, and teasing as he pleased. When he wrapped his tongue around mine, I moaned, clinging to him.

As I was getting used to kiss—our first, Lewis abruptly pushed me onto the bed. While he kissed Lani with the same fire he’d kissed me. When he came over to kneel on the bed, I watched him stroke himself. The way he did it had my mouth watering. I knew what was next, and I wanted it so badly my sex quivered.

“You ready for this dick, Nix?”

I nodded.

“I can’t hear you. Tell daddy how bad you want this dick.”

Nah!

I dropped my hands between my legs, bringing his attention to it, and circled my clit. That was when I spread my lips so he could see just what he was doing to me. Lewis groaned but didn’t tear his eyes away.

“Are you ready for this pussy, Lewis?”

Lani giggled behind me from her spot on the bed by my head. Her laughter only emboldened me.

“Hmm? I can’t hear you.” I dipped a finger inside my heat and raised it to my lips to suck it clean.

“Mmm, this pussy is so good. Do you want it?”

Lewis smiled then hovered over me to take one of my nipples into his mouth to swirl his tongue around the peak before nibbling down. I whimpered again then squirmed when I felt him swipe his cock across my slit.

“Lani was right about you,” Lewis whispered.

“I told you, daddy. I hope you can handle two of a kind,” Lani teased.

Lewis leaned over my head and kissed Lani fervently. The view from underneath was a sensual one, and as I was getting lost in it, Lewis thrust forward, connecting our bodies in one swift move.

“Fuck!”

Lewis and I shouted the same thing at the same time. With him buried to the hilt, he didn’t move. He waited, allowing me to adjust to the size and girth of him. The stretch was the most sinfully delicious thing I’d ever felt. Unable to take the maddening pressure, I began pushing Lewis back at his hips, but he didn’t budge.

“Oh no babygirl, don’t push me away. Take this dick. You wanted it, right?”

With that, he retreated only to thrust forward again, nudging that special spot within me.

“I can’t hear you? You gonna tap out?”

Another retreat and thrust forward sent my breasts swinging and my head angling back.

“We’ve just begun. You hadn’t even screamed my name yet.”

Another retreat and thrust forward had me clenching around him and panting to catch my breath.

“Fuck, Nix. You’re so fucking tight. It’s taking everything not to come.”

Three thrusts followed, and before Lewis slowly rolled his hips, making me moan deeply.

I could tell he wasn’t going to go slow anymore, and a few moments later, it was like a beast was released. His thrusts sped, his moans increased as did mine.

“Mmm, Sit that pussy on her face, princess. Give her a taste of what’s mine.”

Lani looked at me, seeking permission. Giving her a slight nod, she moved to angle herself over my mouth. This is a first, I thought to myself as I tipped my tongue out to lick across her flesh. Lani moaned softly, making me do the action again and again. After teasing her flesh, for a few moments, I sucked Lani’s clit into my mouth. It was an interesting experience, to say the least, but it wasn’t one I was against.

Lani jerked forward before she cursed.

“I got you, princess. Does it feel good?”

“Mmm, yes, daddy, it feels good.”

“Is she licking that pussy, right?”

Lani exclaimed again as I pulled her lower onto my mouth so I could have more access. Mimicking the same thing Lewis did to me, I flicked my tongue against her in a pattern of flicks and swirls, each pattern changing, never the same. Lani whimpered and hissed.

“Fuck, Nix. That feels so good.”

Lewis’s thrusts sped, and my whimpers picked up, breaking my concentration from what I was doing.

“Shit, you’re close huh, babygirl,” Lewis said through clenched teeth.

Before I knew it, a violent orgasm was ripping through me, making me see stars, rainbows, heaven, and hell. That was when Lani began bucking against my mouth, using my lips as her personal toys.

“Shit, I’m coming too,” Lani screeched out.

Lewis pulled from me, then rolled me to the side, pulling Lani to him to plunge into her depths.

“Fuck, Lew!”

He groaned loudly and set a fast pace. He had no intention of going slow.

“Your turn, babygirl.”

I knew what he was instructing. Crawling to Lani, she nodded at me, allowing me to swing my leg over her face while still kneeling with my ass facing Lewis.

“Clean her up for me, princess.”

Lani sucked my sex into her mouth and lapped at mine and Lewis’s combined juices, instantly making me moan and whimper. As Lani moaned her pleasure, I dropped my head to the bed and focused on the orgasm that was bubbling within me. Lewis’s hand dropped to my ass, making me whimper again.

“Goddamn, this ass is something else!”

He slapped it again, this time a lot harder than I felt his lips against the most taboo part of me, which made me fling my head back. Not only was Lani underneath me making it damn hard for me to go back to strictly dick, but Lewis was behind me, showing me the pleasure I’d been missing out on.

That was the last straw for me before I came undone. Dropping to the bed on my stomach, I tried to catch my breath from the sheer force of my orgasm. Lewis kissed my ass, then rolled to the side to lay on his back. The three of us panted in the elegance of the room. I don’t know how many minutes passed before any of us moved, but when I moved, I saw the sun rising through the window and groaned.

“Oh god, the sun, make it stop,” I whined.

“Two of a kind indeed, Lewis said on a scoff before he clapped his hands, bringing the blinds to a close, darkening the room.

We all slithered to the covers slipping underneath them. Lewis laid in the middle while Lani and I climbed on either side of him. When I rested my head on the pillow, I sighed, and Lewis kissed my cheek.

“Thank you for putting us out of our misery,” he whispered into my ear, making me smirk before I rolled my eyes to focus on sleep. I was exhausted.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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@maxcullen @night-of-the-living-shred @chaneajoyyy @queenoftheworldisdead @shar74nett @raveviolet @dangerouslovefanfic @caramara3 @sonjashuterbugjohnson @emjayewrites @blumeesworld @tashawar @thevintagelover @nachtaiwrites @imanerdychubbyqueen @tinydramatist @aquarious-smr-writing @ellixthea @kaiya- ch4n @zeelmol @xsweetdellzx @labella420 @coldmuffinbanditshoe @areubeingserved @caplover22

Chapter Four, the final chapter will be on @munteanhorewrites page.

#sin in the city fic #sin in the city mini series #lewis tan #lewis tan fanfiction #lewis tan x reader #lewis tan x you #lewis tan x black reader #black fanfiction #lewis tan x black reader x black reader #lewis tan smut

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derekcasey · 4 years

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He Knows | Dasey Fic

Derek and Casey haven’t spoken in 7 years, but they meet once again at a bar where Casey’s friends are trying to hook her up with someone.

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For Best Formatting Read on Ao3

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Haley: Casey. Come out with us! It’ll be fun!

Lindz: Not gonna happen Hale. The last time she came out was like… freshman year. And that was only because she was trying to impress us.

Haley: Pleeeeeease Caaaase.

Casey sighs, looking at her phone. She doesn’t want to go out. What’s the point? She’s aware her standards are pretty high. If they weren’t she’d be married already. She just wishes she knew what her standards were. It just seems that every man she meets fails some sort of internalized test that she doesn’t even know the questions to.

But they’re right. It has been a while. Not as long as Linz said, but it had definitely been a few years. And maybe there’s a different crop of men to choose from. So she agrees to go with them. Nearing 30 years old, they aren’t really in the “go out every weekend” stage of their lives. Haley is actually married already and Linz is in a long-term relationship with her girlfriend. So Casey knows that this outing is really just an excuse for them to try to hook her up.

She puts on a tight red dress, curls her hair in loose curls, does her make-up to impress. But her heart isn’t in it. Maybe she’s just meant to die alone, an old spinster with ten cats.

When she hears the horn of Haley’s car sound, she puts on some strappy heels and heads out.

“Open yourself up, Casey.”

“What do you mean? I’m open!” She argues.

Haley raises an eyebrow and gestures to Casey’s arms that are crossed over her chest. Casey huffs, letting her arms fall to her side.

Linz comes back to their table with their drinks and hands them out. "Your seltzer m’lady.” She smirks, giving it to Haley.

Haley rolls her eyes, “Did you scope the place out?”

"Yes. A few potentials… there-” Linz flicks her head to the left of them where a group of three guys are huddled at the end of the bar. Casey takes them in, they’re cute… but… missing something. Haley looks at Casey for her reaction. Casey grimaces.

Linz nods, lowering her voice, “Then there’s him.” She tilts her head just slightly to the right and backwards. Casey looks over her shoulder to see a mess of reddish-brown curls. Her heart stops. She could only see the back of his head but it was unmistakably, regrettably him.

Her lack of response seemed to spur the girls on and as some other guy comes up to his right to talk to him, Haley gets a glimpse of his profile.

“Didn’t he go to Queens?”

Casey feels her breath leave her body. This can’t be happening.

Linz turns to take another look at him. “Looks familiar. Maybe.”

“Yeah, I think he was the captain of the Gaels for a couple years.”

And then they’re all looking at him and Casey still hasn’t said a word, but someone scoots past him and he turns around to see and catches Casey’s glance. It’s only for a second, but it feels like an eternity and her cheeks are burning when he looks away.

Linz turns back quickly, laughing. “Shit. Whoops.”

Haley is elbowing her. “You have to go talk to him.”

Casey finally finds her voice, though she clears her throat first, “No- I mean. You said it yourself. Hockey. We’d have nothing in common.”

Linz supplies, "No one’s saying you have to marry the guy.” She pauses, noting the pink of Casey’s cheeks, “Case. You’re blushing, and the dude looked at you all of one millisecond.”

“I am not blushing.” But the blood rushing to her face betrays her even further.

“I’m going over there.” Linz announces before turning on her boot-clad heel and walking over to him.

Casey is mortified. She gets up from her stool and runs after her but it’s too late. Linz taps him on the shoulder and gives a smooth, “Hey there.”

She’s not his type, but he still gives her a once-over and smirks, “Hey to you too.”

“My fri-” Casey clears her throat, garnering the attention of them both.

“Lindsay, hey. I- uh- Haley needs- you at- over at the table.” Casey says, and his smirk grows wider, watching her flounder for words. Linz is confused, but seems to view this as Casey taking it upon herself to start a conversation with him, so she shrugs and walks back to the table.

“Casey.”

And she can’t breathe again. She hasn’t seen him in… who knows how long (she knows, it’s been 6 years, 9 months, and 3 weeks). He looks different but the same. And he looks at her differently but also the same way.

“Derek.”

The eyebrow raise, and the smirk, and she wants to punch him.

“Who’s your friend?”

Yeah, she’s gonna punch him.

“A lesbian.”

Both eyebrows go up at that point. “Hmm. I guess that checks out. Not married at 30, so you decide to switch teams?”

She rolls her eyes. “As fun as this little reunion has been, I’m going to go back to my friends and pretend you don’t exist.” Casey turns to leave.

“You are a pro at that.” She stops in her tracks. He’s baiting her, she knows it. She takes a breath and keeps walking.

“Nonono, you go back there right now!” Haley demands.

“He’s a jerk.” Casey explains, grabbing her drink and taking a large sip.

“Was he a jerk? Or was he just sexually interested in you, Case?” Linz asks. Casey scowls at her. “What?" Sometimes you have trouble deciphering the difference.”

“He did watch you walk away.” Haley points out and okay. That’s… information she didn’t need.

Casey folds her arms on the table and lays face-down onto them. Haley tries, “Come on, Case. You gotta get out there and have some fun.”

“But at what cost?” She whines.

“Hey…” Linz says, softer. Casey lifts her head a bit to look at her. Linz is smiling at her, “Let’s take a shot, and get on that dance floor. You can stun all these fuckers with your rhythm and they’ll be falling all over you.”

And something in her, some primal desire, lifts her from her stool and heads to the bar for the aforementioned shots. The music is pounding and as the alcohol courses through her veins, she feels emboldened. The three of them get lost in the music, the bodies on the dance floor weaving in and out of each other. She’s not drunk, but her inhibitions are definitely falling to the wayside.

After a few songs, a hand snakes around her waist. When her head falls back against the person’s chest, she expects to see Linz or Haley. Instead she sees his familiar brown eyes. It’s not the first time they’ve danced with each other. It’s not even the first time they’ve been this close to one another, but something about it is different.

She tries not to overthink it, just moves with the music. When he breathes, she feels his chest expand. His hand is gripping her waist at just the right pressure. She sees Haley in her peripheral and her wide-eyed glee is almost enough to take her out of the moment but this might be the only time she gets to enjoy this with him. So she shuts her eyes, and leans closer against him, wrapping an arm around his neck, hand nestling in his hair.

She can feel his breath on her neck, and it sends a shiver of delight down her spine. She can’t bring herself to face him, but just for these few minutes, she allows herself to feel him, to be close, to touch, to be touched. When the song shifts, the rhythm is stagnant but the variance brings her to reality. She slows her movements. His grip tightens on her waist. “Case.” He breathes. The music is loud, but his mouth is so close (too close) to her ear that she feels the vibrations of the word, rather than hears it.

She pulls away from him, turning to see the look in his eyes. She can’t read him, which seems impossible. She always can. But it has been seven years (6 years 9 months and 3 weeks). So who is she to say she can read him? She barely knows him, really. She thinks he looks disappointed, but he can’t be, shouldn’t be.

She doesn’t say anything else and neither does he as she walks away. She keeps walking until she’s outside. It only takes Linz and Haley 30 seconds to find their way out as well and get to Casey, who is leaning against the brick of the building, eyes shut tight, hand on her chest.

“You okay, Case?” Haley asks, and Linz rubs Casey’s shoulder soothingly.

“I’m fine. I just- I needed some air.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“About what?” Casey asks, because what is there to talk about? They won’t ever understand the scope of how badly she just monumentally screwed up.

“I mean… how seriously into each other you and that dude are?”

“Honestly, I thought I’d have to hose the two of you down.”

“No, I would not like to talk about it. What I would really like is to go back three hours in time, politely decline your offer to go out, put my pajamas on and watch grey’s anatomy for the 20th time like I normally do on a Friday night.”

“You are just a barrel of fun, aren’t you?” And he’s back. Her head falls back against the brick, knocking it just enough to ground her, not enough to hurt.

“Would you just leave me alone?” She whines, and her heart isn’t in it.

“Is that really what you want?” And he already knows the answer.

She looks at him. “Stop it. I don’t know what- what you think is going to happen here, but-”

“Fine.” His jaw is set. Maybe it’s anger…

“Good.”

He looks like he’s going to say something else, but he just turns, shows his stamp to the bouncer and goes back into the bar. She watches the whole thing, and there’s a part of her that wants to follow him, flow with the music again and get lost in him, just for tonight.

Haley must notice the forlorn look on her face, “Let's… let’s get you home, Case.”

So… are we gonna talk about last night?

No.

You knew each other, didn’t you?

She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t have it in her right now.

There’s a knock on her door, she expects Linz. She’s the type to not let things fester. She goes to couples’ therapy with her girlfriend Erin even though they were already the most functional and healthy couple to begin with. She’s always saying “We need to address our feelings as they come up.” and it’s just… exhausting. After running from her feelings for over a decade, she’s thinks she has that whole process under control, thank you very much.

But it’s not Linz.

It’s him.

“Got your address from George.”

She pinches the bridge of her nose. She might kill George, and then this whole issue will be moot. Because then they’d no longer be step-siblings. So there’s that.

“Kinda sad, if you think about it, sis."

She takes a deep breath, fire in her eyes. “If I wanted you to know where I live, I would have told you.”

“You’re really gonna keep going with this ‘I hate Derek’ schtick?”

“Oh, it is sincerely not a schtick.”

“Your hips say otherwise, Case.”

And she wants to say her hips are dirty liars. But that’s really lame and Derek would never let her live it down (let’s not forget it’s also, of course, untrue), “Why are you here, Derek?”

“Not even gonna invite me in?”

She sighs but steps aside for him to enter. He looks around her living room. She notices him eyeing her pictures. She has pictures of Nora & George. Lizzie. Marti. Edwin. Of Emily, of Haley and her husband, of Linz and Erin. But none of him.

“You were always quite the decorator. Take after Nora that way.”

“Can you just get to it, Derek?”

He sits on the couch, making himself at home in a ways that makes her furious. “No pleasantries?” He puts a foot on the coffee table. She raises her eyebrow at it and he puts it back down on the floor.

“Okay then. Let’s start with, what the fuck, Casey?” He lets out a laugh but it’s not funny and the laugh seems to know that too. She looks at the floor, hoping that it would open up and swallow her into it.

“I don-”

“Seven fucking years. You sure have gone to a lot of trouble just to cut me out of your life.”

She’s pictured this moment a thousand times. She didn’t know it would hurt this badly.

“What do you want me to say?”

He laughs. “God. You really - you hate me that much? Won’t even give me a proper explanation?”

“Things change. People grow apart.” She lies. He stands up, and they’re close (too close).

“No. What you did was purposeful.” He takes a step toward her, “And I know I can be a piece of shit sometimes, but I thought-” He searches her eyes, for what? She looks away. He’s right, but she can’t admit it.

“We’ve always hated each other, Derek. Why should we put the family through our fighting? It was easier to-”

“Yeah, that’s just it isn’t it. It was easy. Easy for you to just-” He takes a breath, shakes his head. Why is he even this angry? “We don’t fucking hate each other, Casey.” He’s looking at the wall of photos, “I don’t hate you.”

“I don’t hate you either.” It’s small. So small, she hopes he doesn’t hear it, but he does.

He looks at her. Even though he seemingly knows this is true, it looks like her admission just saved his life.

“That’s- that’s why I had to. Do what I did.”

“You’ve avoided me at all costs because you don’t hate me?” He looks confused, but why? He knows already. They’ve both known it. For years. But admitting it… giving it breath and letting it sit out in the open between them… that’s a whole other beast.

“You should go.”

“Fuck that. We’re finally getting somewhere. I haven’t seen you in 7 years and then- then we meet at a club we fucking dance together like that and-”

“I was drunk.”

“Buzzed, maybe. Come on, Case. You were always a terrible liar.”

“We can’t do this.”

“Do what?” And why is he making her say it. He knows what.

“You know what.”

“Say it.”

She doesn’t.

“You should go.” She tries again.

“I’m not leaving until you fucking say it, Casey. Tell me the real reason you want me to leave, and I’ll go, if that’s what you really want.”

She doesn’t know when she started crying. It’s a silent cry. The tears just well up and slide down her cheeks. He’s still close and he’s still staring at her and she can’t take it. She shuts her eyes, tears getting caught in her eyelashes.

He reaches a hand to her face and thumbs away some of the tears.

“I love you.”

It spills from her mouth, and his thumb moves from her cheek to her lips.

“Do you want me to leave?” He asks, simply, patiently, and it’s so unlike Derek, but so like him. In his moments of softness, of kindness.

She shakes her head, opening her eyes. He’s staring back at her, eyes her lips momentarily. It’s a question, she knows, and she nods minutely before he leans in and captures her lips with his own.

It’s everything. All of their pent-up aggression and rage towards one another, all of their love, all of their desire. It’s in this kiss. It’s in their hands as they hold each other. Finding balance within one another. They breathe and kiss and bite, and gasp and they move together. And he returns the I love you into her skin.

It ends with them on the floor, like many other times in the past, their bodies tangled together, just with less clothing than normal.

“What do we- what do we tell them?” She asks, when it’s over.

“Casey, they already know.”

#dasey #derek venturi #casey mcdonald #life with derek #tw stepcest

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spaceorphan18 · 4 years

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The Spaces In-Between: Chapter 5

TITLE: The Spaces In-Between RATING: M PAIRINGS: Eventually Kurt/Blaine, unrequited Kurt/Finn ADDITIONAL TAGS: All the tags! Mostly slowburn romance and friendship SUMMARY: The story of Kurt Hummel’s life in the spaces between what we saw on the show – goes through the entire series, and follows his adventures throughout, including falling in love with Blaine, his friendships with Mercedes and Rachel, and his relationship with his dad.

A/N: So - this is a super ambitious project that I’m really excited to be writing. Essentially, each chapter will cover an episode of the show, and fill in what we didn’t see on screen. It’ll be a little while before Blaine comes in, but we’ll get there!! Meanwhile, I’ll continue to add tags as more characters arrive – pretty much everyone involved in Kurt’s life will show up eventually ;)

Thanks to @snarkyhag for the beta - she makes all my work better <3

Read on Ao3

***

Kurt is on his way home as he passes the auditorium and hears the unmistakable voice of Rachel Berry. He stops, hiding just beside of the entryway, barely peering in to see her standing on stage, belting out a number from Cabaret. In the back, Sandy Ryerson is screaming his head off but Rachel continues, not paying him attention. Kurt can not seem to pull himself away. She is good. She is irritatingly good. He doesn’t understand what Mr. Ryerson is going on about, she is able to sing the song with an ease that Kurt’s never witnessed.

As much as he does not like her - as the rest of the glee club is beginning to gel she still seems on the outside - he is beginning to admit that maybe they are a better team with her at the helm. Glee has been a mess since she left. Without someone to take lead, they’ve been floundering. Mr Schue does not seem to know how to bring them all together. Finn at least seems to be trying but he lacks Rachel’s whirlwind force. They are not going to be able to even place at Sectionals without her.

Kurt finally manages to tear himself away, irritated at her talent, jealous that she can be a star in anything she pleases without any thought of the rest of the team. What he would give to be on stage like that - belting out to a full auditorium of people who can see him for everything that he is. He grumbles as he leaves, still able to hear Rachel’s voice from out in the hallway.

The next morning, she catches up with him, a flurry of energy as she always is. “I saw you last night,” she says as if it is an accusation.

“What are you talking about?” Kurt asks. He has to meet Mercedes before their first class, and doesn’t really have time for one of Rachel’s diatribes.

“Watching me practice for Cabaret,” she says, holding him back with her hand. “And while I appreciate that I have my admirers, even among my enemies…”

“Enemies, really?”

“...no amount of applause, silent or otherwise will get me to come back to glee club,” she says definitely.

Her eyes tell a different story. They are large and pleading, almost as if she is waiting for him to beg for her to come back. God, really? As much as they might need her back, he just can not force himself down to her level. “Well, that’s fine, Rachel, because the glee club works as a team, and unless you’d like to actually be a part of one, maybe you’re better off on your own.” Was that too harsh? Maybe.

She sticks her nose in the air and sighs dramatically. “I don’t need a team behind me. My light shines too bright for the rest of you, and if you and Mr. Schue and the rest of glee club can’t see that, maybe it’s better that I shine on my own.”

“Rachel…” he says, without knowing what the end of the sentence is.

“I am going to make it with or without the glee club,” she insists. “Now please, stop watching me during my rehearsals. It’s distracting.”

Without another word, she storms off leaving Kurt unsure of how to feel over her outburst.

***

April Rhodes is an enigma all her own.

She makes Kurt uncomfortable in ways that he is not sure he can articulate but, god damn, can she sing. Maybe they don’t need Rachel after all. Besides, April Rhodes has given him something that Rachel Berry never could - a way to lower his inhibitions.

His dad is working late, meaning he gets the whole place to himself. Still, he makes sure to lock his door, giving him enough private space to look over what April had given him. He forces himself to drink out of the canteen she had left with him. It is definitely alcohol, though Kurt has no idea what kind. All he knows is that it has the most bitter sting to it, and that he isn’t sure why adults are always drinking this stuff. He is able to get through an entire glass of it when his head begins to feel lighter.

He settles on his bed, fanning out the magazines that April had given him, not sure where to start. He pours the bitter liquid into a wine glass he grabbed from one of the top cupboards. (He had to clean off a fine layer of dust, since who knows when it had been used last.) He sips and begins to flip through. And begins to flip through.

This is so much better than the porn he had tried weeks earlier.

The men are all mostly naked, with abs and biceps and pectorals all rippling. They are a little more muscular than Kurt usually finds attractive but that is not what is catching Kurt’s attention the most. Most of them are wearing tight, tight underwear, thongs, and speedos, most of which showing off the thick outline of the men’s dicks. He cannot keep his eyes off the dicks. Of course, there are asses on display as well, tightly clenched, ripped asses.

Kurt lets out a little giggle as he finishes off the alcohol. He is flushed now, but not in a bad way. Feeling slightly dizzy, he puts the glass on the nightstand and rolls onto his back, holding the magazine above him. He has looked through most of them already but he comes back to one man in particular. Not only is he more lean and athletic, more to Kurt’s aesthetic pleasure. He’s dark and handsome - and his pelvis is thrust. His dick is RIGHT THERE.

The alcohol has made Kurt relaxed and comfortable. He takes a finger and puts it right on the man’s dick, laughing to himself at his forwardness. He wonders what it would feel like to touch it. Would it feel like his own? Would it be heavier? Longer? More pleasurable? How would any of this even work?

Without thinking too much about it, Kurt undoes his own pants and pulls himself out, stroking leisurely as he daydreams about the man in the picture. He closes his eyes and puts the magazine down, throwing it over to the pile as he lets his imagination take over.

The man could kiss him, soft, romantic kisses as he lets Kurt touch him. He could stroke the man through his pants or, as he daringly lets his mind wander, the man would let Kurt take him out -- see his dick hard and flushed and ready to be touched by him. He is mostly naked anyway, and the man wants him to. The man is actually enjoying Kurt touching him. Kurt begins to pick up the pace of his hand, his own dick growing hard quickly.

Or… he could allow the man to touch him. They could kiss and be close, and the man could reach between them and stroke Kurt where he wants it the most. Kurt loses himself in the fantasy, thinking about this muscled, beautiful man who would treasure him, kiss him softly, lovingly, as he strokes Kurt’s most private of places. The man would bring them close, and hold Kurt in his arms as they continued to kiss. And then… then maybe… their bodies would be brought together. Kurt could feel the man’s erection slide against his own.

“Fuck,” Kurt let’s out as his hips snap up into his hand. A jolt of pleasure reverberates through him, his body reacting positively to that thought.

They could rock together, melding into one, as their naked bodies enjoyed each other. Kurt’s hand began to fly over his dick, pumping it with no abandon as he followed the fantasy to its conclusion. The man would come first, moaning into Kurt’s mouth as he came. And then he would still, and let Kurt fly, letting Kurt rub against him until Kurt came apart. Kurt lets out an undignified groan as he finishes, flopping down onto the bed out of breath.

Well, that… had been an experience.

He should clean up, should shower. But he lays on his bed, a little hazy. Looking at the clock, it is still hours until his dad gets home. Plenty of time to, maybe, enjoy these magazines a little further. Kurt lets out another giggle as he sits up, shimming out of his pants as he does so. He pours himself the last of the canteen and toasts to April Rhodes, his new favorite member of the New Directions, and opens up another one of the magazines.

***

After a few days, Kurt decides that alcohol is not for him, especially after he throws up all over Ms. Pillsbury’s shoes. But he is keeping the magazines. He has them in a box underneath his bed where his dad won’t find them. It is almost like having a dirty little secret and, for maybe the first time in his life, he wonders if he is like the other guys his age.

The thought does not linger with him too much, there are more important things to think about. Like the fact that they are performing for Invitationals in a day or two. And the fact that April might be getting a little out of control despite the fact that the glee club now loves her. But, more so than anything, the blindsiding fact that Quinn Fabray is pregnant and that Finn - FINN - is the father.

The idea that Finn is actually having sex with Quinn Fabray makes his stomach turn. She is so nasty and callous, what could he ever see in her? But the scandal has rocked his and the entire glee club’s world, so much so that Kurt cannot help himself but lap up the delicious details.

He is so busy being amused as school lets out that he does not notice, at first, that Rachel Berry is having a breakdown next to her locker. In fact, no one seems to notice. The student body of McKinley swarms around her, completely ignoring the fact that there is a sobbing mess of a girl right there in the open. Feeling a bit of pity, Kurt approaches.

“Rachel?” he says softly.

“What do you want,” she snaps, almost violently. “Haven’t you done enough?”

“Me?” Kurt’s now completely confused.

“Is there a reason you are always so cruel to me?” she cries.

“What are you talking about?” Kurt asks, sincerely. He has seen Rachel cry plenty of times but, unlike a majority of the time, these tears are real. Kurt can’t help but feel bad - for whatever it is he has supposedly done. “I haven’t done anything to you.”

She buries her head in her hands, and continues to cry. “The way you seemed delighted to tell me that Finn has gotten… that Finn… Finn…”

Kurt finally gets what she is going on about -- the whole Quinn and Finn thing. He is annoyed, at first, that she is pinning it on him. She shouldn’t shoot the messenger just because it shatters her bubble of self-importance. “Rachel, you were going to find out about that regardless of who told you. It’s not like she wouldn’t be showing in a few months anyway.”

“Yes, but he could have told me himself, he didn’t have to…” she continues, the sobbing growing loud enough now to echo across the hall. The few students remaining walk past with disgusted looks on their faces, making Kurt suddenly feel oddly protective of Rachel.

“Are you okay?” he asks. He contemplates putting his arm around her, but can not bring himself to do it.

“I just feel so… alone,” she sobs.

It is then that it strikes him. He gets that - the feeling of being alone. How long has he been by himself, struggling to find his place in the world? How long has it taken him to make just one friend?

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” he asks. Rachel has never outwardly admitted that she needs anyone, at least to him. “Didn’t you say earlier this week that you didn’t need us - that you needed to shine brightly on your own?”

“Why does my shining so brightly have to always burn others?” she says. “Can a star really stay lit if no one is there to witness it?”

“I don’t know if I understand you Rachel Berry,” he says.

But maybe he does - maybe they are more alike than he cares to admit. Maybe they are all just trying to figure out who they are and where they fit in. And while he is on a path to being accepted by others, figuring out who he is, and being okay with it. Maybe Rachel is much farther behind him than he thought. For all her talent and her ambitions, maybe he has got at least one thing up on her.

“Would you like to join Mercedes and I at the Lima Bean?” he asks. It’s the best he can offer. “Tina and Artie will probably be there as well.”

“I have Cabaret practice,” she says coldly, and pushes past him towards the auditorium.

Kurt gives a frown as he watches her leave. She might be talented, she might even be a star someday - but he is not sure he would ever want to trade lives with her. He hopes, though, for her sake, she can climb out of the darkness he himself had been in for so long.

#s.o. writes things #glee fic #kurt hummel #this is just gonna keep coming out in little spurts #(ug there's a dirty joke there but you know what i mean)

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egoludes · 6 years

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spark / s.m.

note: to be honest with y’all, this is just some random content inspired by my love for shawn’s grammy suits. the spark thing is a) totally random and b) giving me strong soulmate vibes, but i don't explore that too much here - maybe in sequels? but, for now, here’s some dirty post-grammys fun and a little softness too! hope you enjoy!

warnings: nsfw/smut. word count: 4.3k

After months of anticipation (and a few good hours' worth of panic), it's finally here — the Grammys. Even in the middle of all the chaos, you haven’t completely registered that this is happening; that you’re walking a red carpet that was the stuff of dreams just a year ago, and that it’s your name they’re screaming as you do. It'd be an understatement to say you're nervous, but at the center of those nerves is an equal amount of excitement, giddiness even. And it has you moving down the carpet in a daze, smiling so big your jaw hurts.

It's in the middle of all this that you see him; a head taller than most others in the crowd, he’s not hard to spot in a royal blue suit and curls falling into his face. A man who requires no introduction, but it’ll happen all the same, as his manager guides him towards you and yours and he takes the first step to close the distance with a smile.

“Hey — ‘m Shawn. It’s so nice to finally meet you!”

You can’t say you don’t share the sentiment ---- it’s a wonder it’s taken this long when you have such close professional circles. But, that doesn't matter so much as you smile up at him, fingers reaching to tuck a rebellious lock of hair behind your ear. “Y/N — it’s great to meet you, too! Been a long time coming, according to them.” You gesture to your managers who’ve already started chattering like schoolgirls.

He responds with a chuckle, eyes darting towards the two before returning to the photographers watching you. They’re in an absolute frenzy seeing you interact for the first time, and the sight of it has Shawn arching an eyebrow in amusement. A jab of his thumb draws your attention to them. “Think we should give them what they want too?”

You re-focus with a squint, the nonstop flashes a bit overwhelming. And though you can already hear the rumors like sneers in the back of your head, your response is all playful in return, mischief taking your features in a grin. “Don’t see why not!"

That’s all Shawn needs to hear before he’s shifting to pose with you, falling into the motions of every other photo he's taken that night: a hand to the shoulder, head tilted in. But, with the open back of your floor-length gown, his calloused fingers meet exposed skin ---- and then, it happens.

You can only describe it as a spark: a brief, but sharp pulse of electricity that starts in your shoulder and slithers deliciously along the length of your spine. And in your shock, you don’t think to hide your reaction, lips parting in an audible gasp that you try to muffle in a cough. It falls flat, though, obviously forced, and it takes everything you have not to glance at him — not that you need to when you can feel how hard he’s staring.

Had he felt that too? Or is he judging your incredibly weird reaction to his closeness?

Something tells you it's likely the latter.

Either way, you bear it for a few pictures, eyes darting in the direction of whichever photographer calls your name loud enough before you step back with a ‘Thanks’ muttered into your chest. He starts to say something, hand half-stretched towards you, but your urge to save face is volumes louder and you give a sheepish wave before darting to the next stretch of carpet.

You can still feel him watching you as you go.

////

The ceremony is a blur in the best sense of the word. You don’t win the award you’re nominated for, but somehow, even the loss is colored rose by the happiness of being there. By the end of the night, though, you’re more than ready to leave it behind, growing excited for another part of the festivities: the after-parties.

You’re still getting used to the madness that is Los Angeles after dark, but this is one night out you won’t miss. So, with your team and closest friends on hand, you leave the Staples Center like you’re on a mission. The first place you end up boasts enough faces you recognize and music you enjoy that you’re eager when you venture past the crowded entryway. And when he finds you for the second time that night, it’s with a glass in your hand and hips swaying easily to the music.

“Hey."

You’ve only heard that voice in person once now, but the bass in it feels more familiar than anything else in the room. And you're already a bit bashful, cheeks heating up as you turn around to face the source. “Hey, Shawn."

Admittedly, he’s surprised you aren’t running, half-convinced you’d give the same cold shoulder from earlier. But, when it seems you’re staying put, he smiles, leaning in to make sure you can hear each other over the noise. “You were really amazing up there tonight,” the compliment comes with a soft smile, though there’s something far less innocent in his eyes, “couldn’t look away."

He makes you nervous — about as nervous as you’d been at the start of the night — but that doesn’t stop you from smiling at his kindness, heart fluttering with every word. “Aw, thank you — it was honestly the greatest thing I’ve ever done. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so good on a stage.” You’re grinning then, watching him almost playfully. “But, I guess I don’t have to tell you that, huh? You were just as amazing."

He’s about to respond, somewhere between pleased and coy, when someone barrels into you from behind. Between the alcohol in your system and the sky-high heels, it’s a guaranteed recipe for disaster and you’re tipping forward before you can even think about catching yourself.

Wide eyes squeeze shut as you brace for a face-first collision with the ground, but, it never comes. Instead, your body meets something much softer, albeit just as sturdy. And when a hand comes up to steady you, once again finding the bare skin of your back, you know exactly what it is by the jolt that travels through you — Shawn.

Maybe it’s the lowered inhibitions from the drinking, or a boldness that you’ll blame on the night’s energy; but you let out a soft whimper without thinking about it, a sound that makes him suck in a breath. On the red carpet, it had been easy to dismiss your gasp as a fluke, something he was reading too much into. And as much as he was intrigued by you and the way you left his fingertips buzzing, he’d relegated it to the back of his mind in favor of everything else happening that night. But, this time, there's no denying it.

There's no way around the tension between you when you're making sounds like that and, against his better judgment, he doesn't let you go, even as you find your footing. The proximity stirs a want in him that nearly makes him balk, and though that worry has a tendency to get the best of him, something about you pushes him forward. His fingers tighten their hold. “You feel it too, don’t you?"

Surprise has you tensing as you give him a curious glance, searching his face to gauge how serious he is. But when he watches you back, clearly anticipant, you realize that you’d heard him loud and very clear, and you nod with your stomach turning.

Your response relieves and confuses him all at once — it’s an odd thing to come to terms with, he thinks — and though he doesn’t make a move to separate you, he’s glancing away with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. The expression is pensive ; as though he’s trying to work out where he should go from here.

But, when you get jostled by yet another person forcing their way through the crowd — and pushed closer as a result — his mind is all made up and the hand around your waist tugs you forward while he takes a half-step back. He dips to speak against your hair.

“Come with me?"

You can’t imagine doing anything else.

////

When you come to a stop, Shawn’s hand resting on the small of your back, you’re in a side room that’s nearly empty save for a couple people busied by their phones on the other end. For a moment, you both hesitate about stopping in here — but between the party outside and nonstop stream of people leaving every other room, it’s the best choice you have. Plus, it's dim enough that the others will have no idea who you are without getting uncomfortably close. So, you take advantage of it, settling into a corner of your own with Shawn set squarely between you and them.

Without the music or company to distract you, though, things grow quiet, awkward fast and you find yourself toying idly with the necklace that’s tucked between your breasts. Subconsciously, Shawn reaches up to do the same with his own before rubbing at the back of his neck — maybe this was a little impulsive.

Quickly, the silence becomes too much to bare, and you’re about to suggest going back when he speaks up first. “Listen, I don’t really do this, so, I’m sorry for being so fucking weird about it, but…” He pauses then, eyes narrowing to gauge your reaction before landing, unceremoniously, on your lips. “… I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the red carpet.”

There’s a second of stillness before he clarifies. “Well, kissing you, actually."

If this were any other time, or any other person, you might have laughed. You might have pushed them away, cursed them out, maybe run away altogether ; and you would not be thinking about kissing them too.

But, right now, with Shawn Mendes watching you with eyes that are equal parts dark and hopeful, that’s the only thing you’re thinking about. The only thing you’ve thought about for most of the night, constant beneath the award show buzz. And hearing him confirm that he’s been as consumed by you as you've been by him only makes the urge worse ; you press closer without thinking. “You haven’t, huh?” You tip your head thoughtfully then, as though his admission requires any inspection. But it doesn’t take long for something more sensual to settle in, your cheeks warm again from anticipation. “Maybe we should do something about that?"

He catches on quickly, a hand reaching to cup your cheek before thumbing a path over your jaw to your chin. “Maybe we should...” The words trail off into a breath that you feel fan over your cheek and you turn into him instinctively from the closeness. There’s a beat of weighted silence — a pause that finds you both searching for second thoughts in each other’s faces before you lean in and let everything else melt away.

You hadn’t come into this with any expectations, but he still manages to blow them all out of the water. His mouth fits against yours easily, naturally and though you want to be mindful of the people in the other corner of the room, you can’t be bothered. Not when he’s so close, so warm and you’re drowning in it, hands finding a spot on his back when you deepen the kiss.

“God, you taste so good.” He lets out in a rumble against your mouth, and you offer him a sigh in response. You could say the same for him, what with the tang of some top-shelf liquor on his tongue ; but the thought of doing anything but this right now flickers out before it even has a chance. You decide, instead, on getting closer, on slipping a hand past his unbuttoned collar to feel his skin as you take his bottom lip between your teeth.

And there it is again — that spark. You’d be convinced it was entirely your imagination if he didn’t react as viscerally as you did — meeting your surprised moan with a grunt while his hands fall from your hips to the swell of your ass. They simply settle at first, letting you both grow accustomed to the way the moment’s progressing ; but when you hum in approval and angle your hips forward into his, Shawn can’t help but chance a little squeeze, purring in delight at the weight of your body in his hands.

“Can we.. do you want to go..?” The question comes out strained and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think him on the verge of begging already. Your eyes open to take him in ---- you nearly coo at the flush in his cheeks. “My hotel’s not far…” He punctuates the words with kisses to your throat, each one more intent than the last. “…and we can probably make it out of here without anyone noticing."

He really doesn’t have to do much to convince you, but you let his question dangle for a moment, focusing, instead, on the way his kisses move all over your skin. Then, when the quiet goes on just a little too long and you can feel him start to tense with worry, you reach fingers into his curls, turning your head to mouth over his ear.

“I thought you’d never ask."

////

It takes thirty minutes to make it from the party to Shawn’s hotel, most of which you spend making out in the back seat with hungry hands. And, by the time the car comes to a rolling stop, your dress is pressed halfway up your thighs and his shirt’s a smidgen more unbuttoned, chest sporting a few red marks.

The sight of each other has you both giggling as you shuffle through the lobby, very visibly well-kissed. But, you try not to dwell on it too much. Not when he gets his hands on you the moment you’re behind the elevator’s closed doors, and you’re sighing from his lips re-gaining its spot on your skin. His room is high enough that he dares to go a little further than your throat this time, kisses trailing down past the slit on the front of your dress to flirt between your breasts.

The contact makes you shiver and him smirk; and when he has to pulls away as you near his floor, you huff — you’ve never been one for waiting, especially when you’re so close to getting what you want. Shawn picks up on it easily, leaning in to nose at your cheek with an endeared grin. “Be patient, hon…com’on.”

As if on cue, the elevator opens with a ding and he threads his fingers between yours to guide you into the hallway. You have to take double steps to keep up with his longer strides, but that only makes this sexier somehow. You use the walk to drink him in, trace the way that black shirt fits the broadness of his shoulders and how good his thighs look in suit pants even from behind. And when you come to a stop in front of his hotel room door, you can’t help but be close, moving until your front is pressed into his back and you can slip your hand back underneath his shirt.

It draws the same reaction from you both the second time around, and he gets the door open as fast as he can to tug you inside with him. As intoxicating as your palm feels, Shawn wants more, needs more and guides your hand out from under his shirt and uses it to spin you out in front of him. It’s an unexpectedly soft gesture, one that has you tossing your head back in laughter as you twirl, and the sound makes him melt. He isn’t any less committed to where this is going tonight, but he knows he’d probably kill to hear that sound a little more.

As many times as you’ll let him, really.

When you come to a stop, you’re half-dizzy, half-dazed and the look on your face makes you downright kissable. So, that’s exactly what he does — hooking hands underneath your thighs to tug you up as he dips his head to meet your mouth. A hum presses through you both at the contact and you’re wrapping arms and legs around him to flatten yourself against his body.

Behind closed doors, there are no inhibitions; no concerns about paparazzi or overly attentive fans. It’s just you and Shawn, shedding clothes with each blind step towards the bedroom until he’s left in unbuttoned slacks and you, your underwear.

He can’t get enough of you like this, and even before he’s lowered you to the mattress, he’s exploring, hands sliding up your back and down your sides until they can settle, for the millionth time, on your legs. His body vibrates with the anticipation of having them wrapped around him, but he pushes the thought aside to focus on what he wants far more right now, seeing you spread out before him.

“I’ve been wondering...” his fingers trail over your thigh, not stopping until the pads meet you through your underwear. They’re already soaked through and he has to fight back a moan as he touches over the fabric. “If you taste as good here too…” He admits this to excite you, but the catch in his breath as he says it makes it obvious that he’s as affected by the thought as you are. “..Can I?"

Your throat’s too dry for you to speak, so you’re nodding with a soft breath and a bite at your lip to give him permission. But, that isn’t enough for him, not even close; and though he’s already found a way between your legs, working your panties off with kisses to your thigh, he won’t give you what you want until he hears you. “Nuh-uh… say it.” As soft as his voice is, you can still work out a teasing lilt, a tone that makes you shudder when you feel his nose against your hip. Your immediate instinct is to tease right back ; but after hours of wanting him, you just can’t hold out much longer.

"Please."

It's all he needs to hear before he's moving forward, licking one broad stripe between your folds before letting his tongue curl around your clit. He flicks at the nub a few times to watch you shake before wrapping his mouth around it in a suckle. Your head tips back into the already messy sheets and you part your lips in a whimper, too fucked to make a real sound.

And as delightful as that reaction is, Shawn’s greedy, impressively so after so little time. All he wants is to push you further, make you unravel, and he's reaching to cup one of your breasts, thumbing the nipple until it pebbles before tweaking it between two fingers. The pressure makes you jolt and your hips follow suit, drawing a long groan from the man between your legs. “Fuck,” Shawn gasps out, chest tight from how badly he wants you. “What’re you doin’ to me?"

The question is nothing short of rhetorical because there’s no way he doesn’t know the answer.

Everything.

You’re doing everything to him; too much and not enough at the same time as every part of you floods his senses. And while he can’t make any sense of how you’ve gone from a stranger to this so fast, it feels right — destined, almost — and he lets himself fall into it headlong. His head tips so he can press his tongue into you for a moment before he replaces it with a finger, and then two, purring at how you constrict to meet him.

Feeling him stretch you almost brings you to your breaking point as you mess up his curls with eager tugs and gasp out for him like a prayer. This feels good, so good — but it’s not nearly enough, and you’re scrambling for his hands to tell him so. A few good pulls has him popping up, face flushed and eyes lidded, and when his eyes settle on you, you can only manage a single word: “Inside."

The blanks are easy to fill in and he’s moving over you so fast, it makes you dizzy for a second time. Him kissing you is steadying, though, and keeps you occupied as he fumbles for a condom from his bedside table — thank god he’d followed that instinct — and gets it on in as fluid a motion as he can manage. Then, he lines himself up, the head of his cock nudging against you teasingly enough that you whine. The sound draws a chuckle - he doesn’t plan to leave you wanting long.

Pressing into you is slow, deliberate; and as he disappears inside of you, the world goes dark. Then, all at once, it’s hot-white, blinding, and you’re arching off the bed with a cry that makes him tremble. The sparks are back and all over, ten times as strong when you’re naked and pressed together at every point. And though he told himself he’d take it slow, do this right, he can’t think straight when you’re so tight around him. His head falls forward as his lips part in an oh and he’s nuzzling against your throat as he snaps his hips forward to bottom out.

Once he's settled, he braces himself over you with a drawn out breath, hooded eyes trailing over you in what could only be awe. He wants to move, badly, but as much as his hips ache from the urge, he stays put ; he’s already gotten away with pressing in so fast. This time, he leaves the ball in your court, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he shifts against you. “You gotta tell me, hm?” There’s that desperation again, raw in his already-gravelly voice, and that alone is more than you can take. “Tell me I can move."

He doesn’t have to ask you twice — frankly, he could have gotten away without asking you at all — as you reach to find his hips and tug them forward with a pointed hiss. “Move, Shawn,” you gasp out, tightening your grip on him, “fucking move."

Something dangerous flashes in his eyes at that and one of his hands reach down for your thigh, hiking your leg up at his waist as he takes his first full thrust. The impact makes your eyes flutter closed and he’s tsking fast, his lips finding purchase on your jawline. “Let me see you, Y/N… I wanna see you."

He asks so sweetly, how can you tell him no? Your eyes re-open and he purrs, rewarding you with another, more pointed thrust. Your hands shoot for his shoulders, nails digging into the skin, and the pain seems to spur him on, a shudder passing through him as he finds a quick and needy rhythm.

He already knows he won’t last long with all the sensations washing over him. So, his focus, with each snap of his hips, is you. He ducks his head to find your nipple with his mouth, nipping at it before taking it all the way in. And when your body goes pliant from the contact, he reaches down to rub at your clit with his fingers, already panting as he goes.

“Oh, god —“ you echo his desperation from earlier, legs opening a bit more to give him room as you feel a familiar intensity pool in your tummy. It’s the fastest you’ve ever gotten close to climax, but like him, you know that there’s something special about this. Your bodies are in hyperdrive, uber-sensitive to everything that’s happening. And as much as you might want this to last, you know it doesn’t need to. It’s perfect like this, just as it is.

Your hips move to meet his with every motion, the nails in his shoulder shifting to rake over his scalp. And it’s almost like unleashing a beast, the way his body tenses, rhythm hiccups, and mouth busies against you. He’s too gone to make much sense now, but you can eck meaning out of his increasingly shorter breaths.

Close.

You turn into him with a murmured “Me too,” before your legs tighten to pull him in deeper and you tip your head to search for his lips. The kiss that follows is sloppy, and only grows sloppier as you both hit your peaks. Your bodies arch and shake, minds emptying of anything that isn’t the other, and though he’s caught up in the pleasure of spilling inside of you, Shawn has enough awareness to search out your hand, intertwining your fingers.

And when you both emerge from your orgasms, panting and dazed, that’s exactly how you stay, limbs and fingers tangled up in a neat puzzle. He searches your face for any sign of displeasure, or worse, regret — but, to his relief, he doesn’t get it. Instead, you offer him the tender gaze of a lover he’s known for much longer and the sight of it makes his heart sing.

He pulls your hand to his mouth to pepper kisses over your knuckles ; and when your expression grows shyer ( affection’s never been your strong suit ), he shakes his head, wet curls flopping against his forehead. “Don’t hide from me,” he murmurs, moving to rub his nose over yours with his lips stretching into a smile. "You don’t have to."

And somehow you know he’s absolutely right.

#shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes #shawn mendes fic #wow ok i haven't written anything this long in a v long time #i'm proud bc i told myself i would get this out within a week of the grammys with my work schedule this week #and it's a day early! woo!

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leiascully · 6 years

Text

Fic: Baseball Metaphors (9/?)

As @lyndsaybones put it, this is the seventh inning stretch. PG.

When he comes in on Monday, he expects her to say something. They've progressed much farther than he ever imagined when he first pretended to be her boyfriend. He can't fathom that it isn't on her mind, especially given the fears she confessed. But she just looks up at him with that sweet smile that has nothing behind it and he smiles back and goes to his desk. He forgets, sometimes, how good she is at compartmentalizing. Her "I'm fine" is always a lie, and he knows all her tells, but she's lost her father, her sister, her bodily autonomy, her professional aspirations, most of her friends, and perhaps her own future children: he's astounded she can even get out of bed, much less function the way she does. No wonder she can get through the workday without undressing him with her eyes. That doesn't mean there isn't a part of him who wishes her self-control weren't quite so ironclad.

They talk about the case they've been called in on. There are no allusions to situations or inspections. Scully doesn't mention baseball in any capacity. They put together a profile for the agents upstairs. Mulder sifts through the news for anything that sounds like an X-File.

At lunch, she picks up a copy of the newspaper and brings it back to the office. She sits down in her corner, shaking the paper open. "Doing the crossword?" he asks.

She frowns. "Jenny got my number somehow. She keeps calling to tell me about the real estate ads she's read. I have to have something to say."

He whistles. "She's nesting for two, huh?"

"Two, four, five, whatever," she says, flipping to the ads and staring down at the tiny print. "If I'd known it was going to be this involved to have friends again, I would have just pretended to have amnesia when Ethan walked into that bar."

"Are they our friends?" he asks.

She sighs. "No, but imagine telling them that. I can't make a pregnant woman cry." She glances up at him. "Besides, it's almost nice to have something to do with someone who's not you."

"I don't think I need to remind you that I'm there too," he points out.

"I didn't really call anyone," she says abruptly. "After I came back. Just Ellen, and it turned out that she'd moved to Texas for a job. We still talk on the phone, but I haven't seen her since before. Everyone else - it was almost a relief to feel like I was starting over. But since then, I've only had you. And Byers and Frohike and Langly, after a fashion, but they're your friends."

"I'm not enough?" he asks. "I've always considered myself a handful."

"That isn't it at all," she says, shaking her head. "It isn't about you not being enough. You know how much I value our friendship."

"Do I?" he asks.

"I hope you do," she says earnestly. "I wouldn't have made it back without you, Mulder. You and Melissa, you were my anchors when I was ready to let the tide take me. But the fact remains that I haven't had friends for a long time and it's strange to have someone want to be a part of my life like this. Especially since she's under the impression that you and I are madly in love and careening toward the same life she has with the house and the kids and the happily ever after."

"Hmm," he says. "A common misapprehension."

"And I can't correct it now," she says, gesturing with the paper, "because then we'll look delusional, or possibly sociopathic." She snaps the paper back so that the creases fold smoothly. "I'm afraid she's going to want to go look at houses with us."

"We'll tell her that it's a personal decision," Mulder suggests. "Or, no, we don't want to impose. It'll make her ankles swell to stand up for so long. We're waiting on my investments to mature."

"Do you have investments?" she asks, gazing at him over the edge of her newspaper.

He shrugs. "Probably." Her sigh rattles the paper. He frowns. "Wait, did we already move in together in this fantasy? Or were we going to find a new place first? I seem to recall something about us needing a space we chose together rather than just consolidating into one of our existing places."

"Maybe we're waiting for your lease to run out," she suggests. "You thought it was month-to-month, but your building management changed its policy. And the real estate market moves so fast that there's no point in looking until then."

"I definitely have to pack," he says, thinking of his bedroom full of boxes. "And so do you."

"There's no point in wasting imaginary money," she says. She sets down the paper, looking relieved. "I might still have to go to a few open houses, but we can't look seriously for another six months."

"Six months?" he asks.

She shrugs. "You'd already signed a year's lease before we got together. It's been a slow burn kind of romance."

"So they say." He picks up the paper and turns to the crossword. "Did we have an origin story?"

"What, like our eyes met over a corpse and we knew it was meant to be?" she asks. "I don't think so."

"I'd say a stakeout got a little boring or surveillance got a little titillating," he suggests idly, "but I doubt you'd be into a tryst that began during working hours."

"You're right," she says. "Maybe you had tickets to a baseball game."

"I like where you're going with this," he says approvingly, "but it's only May now and we're supposed to have been dating for a while. Longer than a couple of months."

"Last season," she corrects. "And then over the fall and winter, it just sort of blossomed."

"Date nights at the Smithsonian," he embroiders. "Strolling through a farmer's market on a Saturday morning. Dinners after work, strictly off-duty, of course. Holding hands in a variety of art galleries. A kiss on New Year's that made you see fireworks."

"Running dates on the Mall," she adds with a smile. "Cherry blossom viewings. Picnics by the Potomac."

"That one's true, if you count sunflower seeds and coffee as a picnic," he offers.

"I don't," she says, but she's still smiling. "But nicer than liverwurst and root beer in a stakeout car that always smells like feet."

"That sandwich saved my life," he says.

"You're welcome," she tells him. "So our story is that we have six months until your lease is up and we hope by then they're too busy with the baby to ever talk to us again?"

"That's about the long and short of it," he says. "People with newborns never have friends, right?"

"Right," she says decisively. "They're too busy trying to sleep when the baby sleeps and making sure they have enough diapers."

"Scully," he says, and hesitates. "I'm not going to tell you they're my favorite people, but what's your objection to being friends with Jenny, if she's coming at this from a place that's genuine?"

She sighs. "She thinks our lives are the same. They're not. I can't imagine at this point in my life having the priorities she has. You and I, Mulder, we live on some grander scale than most people, engaged intermittently in this kind of holy war against the forces of evil that want to reshape American society and the world. I can't just go to Pottery Barn and pretend that none of it's happening. I can't explain our cloak and dagger life to someone like her."

"Fair enough," he says.

"There was a time in my life when I could have been Jenny," she says in a low voice tinged with irony.

"Before the constant surveillance and the secret messages from covert informants and the conspiracy penetrating to the deepest levels of our government and way of life?" he asks.

"It's not paranoia if they're really out to get you," she quips, and he grins at her.

"It is strange," he says. "To have people who expect to hear from us. I'm sure we'll go out to dinner again this week."

"I'm sure," Scully says. "Unless we get some kind of case that takes us out of town." She looks wistful.

"You'd rather be chasing monsters in some backwater than having a nice dinner in a cosmopolitan city?" Mulder asks.

"I'd rather be with you than with them," she says, rolling her eyes. "And maybe this time we'd be chasing monsters in Chicago or LA. But at least it's my turn to pick a place. I'll just make sure they have a good bar."

He frowns. She has been drinking more at these dinners than she usually does. He'd thought she was just stressed, but that isn't her normal coping mechanism. Maybe it's to take the edge off. Maybe it's more than that. Maybe it's because pretending to date him is too much for her. "You okay, Scully?"

"I drink so that nobody will ask if I'm pregnant," she says. "Not because I have a problem."

"Not because the idea of being in a fake relationship with me is too much to bear?" he teases.

"I don't need my inhibitions lowered to kiss you," she says. "Does that satisfy you?"

"It helps," he says.

She edges closer to him. "I didn't have anything to drink at the movie, if you recall, and I don't think I seemed particularly inhibited afterwards."

"Uh, no," he says, trying to think about baseball, which really doesn't work anymore as a way to avoid an inconvenient hardon, after all their conversations. "I can't say you did."

"Any activity I engage in is voluntary and uninfluenced by intoxicants," she says. "Even if it is under the auspices of a sham relationship."

"I've been meaning to ask you about the utility of the kind of physical activity no one else sees," he says. "Not that I want it to stop."

"I thought you were a method actor," she says.

"Definitely," he assures her.

"It seemed to me that you were enjoying the process," she says.

"I am," he says quickly. "I'm sure it adds dimension to our performance in the moment."

"We don't have to continue," she says, gazing steadily at him. "I just felt like we could both use a reward for all our efforts."

"Better than a prize from the claw machine," he jokes.

"Expressing one's sexuality is an essential part of most adults' mental and physical health," she points out. "And neither of us has had the time to pursue that in any extracurricular capacity, so to speak. It's an expedient solution to a somewhat stressful situation."

"You make it sound so romantic," he murmurs.

She tilts her head, looking at him with eyes that are both compassionate and amused. "Should we light a candle next time? Play some Marvin Gaye?"

"Ha ha," he says sarcastically. He's kind of astonished she's still okay with candles, after Donnie Pfaster, but it isn't like he wants to bring that up.

She puts her hand over his. "Mulder. Nobody matters to me more than you do. If kissing is complicating things, we can stop."

"No," he says. "You're right. It does help me unwind. Who knew that a nice dinner out with a nice couple could be so exhausting?"

"I think it adds dimension to your acting," she teases. "You really do look like you can't wait for dinner to be over."

"What can I say?" he asks. "I've got a sweet tooth. Dessert is my favorite part of the meal." He looks her over deliberately, as if his meaning wasn't already clear.

"Hmm," she says in a playful tone. "And here I thought I was the main course."

"You're a whole meal, Scully," he assures her. "Seven courses at least."

"Good to know," she says, looking a little smug. "Thai on Friday, or do you think that's too spicy for them?"

"You dated Ethan," Mulder reminds her. "You don't remember what he liked?"

Scully rolls her eyes. "Relationships change people," she says. "And no, I don't remember what he liked. A lot of things have happened since then."

"Thai's fine with me," he says. "I'm sure there are some non-spicy options. Or you could ask Jenny when she calls you tonight to tell you about houses."

She makes a non-committal noise. "Then I'll have to hear about all the things that give her heartburn and various other types of indigestion."

"Sounds better than an autopsy report," he offers.

She levels a stern glance at him. "Mulder, stop playing matchmaker. I don't need to be friends with my ex's fiancée."

"Just trying to help," he says innocently. "If it's inevitable, why fight it?"

"Do you even listen to yourself?" she demands. "When have you ever decided not to fight something just because it was inevitable?"

"It's nice," he says. "To see you having some kind of a life, the way you used to. You used to have friends. You used to go on dates. I feel like I took all of that from you, Scully."

"I made a choice," she says fiercely. "I made a lot of choices, Mulder. They were my choices. Don't ever imagine that you could take my agency from me."

"The things that have happened to you since you were assigned to this job," he begins, but she cuts him off.

"None of that is your fault," she says firmly. "I decided to make your cause mine as well. I knew it was dangerous. It was my choice."

"I don't want you living a life that's less than full on my account," he says quietly.

She takes his hand again. "My life isn't less than full," she tells him. "Even if it's not the life I imagined when I was younger. I wanted a pony when I was six. The fact that I don't have one now doesn't mean I haven't realized my dreams. I'm living the life I want."

"It doesn't always seem that way," he says.

"We all have moments of frustrating and wanting something else," she says. "That doesn't mean I'm not happy most of the time, or that I'm unfulfilled. If I'd wanted to leave, Mulder, I would have left. Don't push me away just because you have some other aspirations for me. That isn't fair. You don't get to decide what's safe or right for me without my say."

He nods. "All right."

"What I want right now," she says in a deliberate voice, "is to go out for Thai food with you and Ethan and Jenny on Friday. I want to hear all about how the baby's started kicking and how the painters are finally finished and oh, we should come and see the place once they get all the furniture put together, and how nice, here's our invitation to their baby shower slash housewarming, and gosh, they're coming up on their limit of guests for the wedding but they'd just love if we were able to make it, and isn't it a nice surprise that we all get along so well even though I used to fuck her soon-to-be husband."

"I can see why you'd need some stress relief after that," he says, smiling.

She smiles back. "Remind me what third base is?"

"Uh, everything but," he says, fumbling his words. "If I remember correctly."

"You seem to have retained your expertise despite what seems to be a dry spell," she teases.

"Just happy to be involved," he jokes back, trying very hard not to think about his midnight encounter with an aspiring vampire. He had his own stress to relieve while Scully was missing. Maybe he should have gone to grief counseling instead, but it would have been difficult to explain that he was, in fact, heartbreakingly and completely in love with his partner, who had been assigned to undermine him and then disappeared under mysterious circumstances.

"It's nice that we can have these different facets of our friendship," she says thoughtfully.

"Definitely," he says. "I wouldn't want to go through this gauntlet with anybody but you, Scully."

She smiles and licks her lips, looking like she might kiss him if they weren't in the office. "Bring your appetite on Friday."

"I will," he assures her, and she lets go of his hand, and they're back to work, as professional as they can be.

#the x-files fic #xfiles fic #the xfiles fic #msr #mulder x scully #my fic #fic: baseball metaphors #you know it wouldn't be leiascully™ fluff without extensive references to past trauma!!!!#because this show loves nothing so much as torturing its main characters!!!!!!#they need so much therapy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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aweebwrites · 5 years

Text

Cooldown

Warning: swear words. Not a lot tho

(HAVE THIS FLUFF YOU WONDERFUL PERSON @sayijo >:( ))

__________________

Kozu hated summer. He hated seasons overall really. They were annoying and unnecessary. Well. Unnecessary in his eyes. What's the point of Ninjago being an inferno one quarter of the year and downright arctic the next? Why can't they have an Equinox all year around? He sat by the window in Cryptor's room, wishing he had the means to cool down somehow. He declined to have the ability to sweat. It was unappealing and disgusting to even think of. He gave an irritated sigh, glaring out the window. As a Stone Soldier, he was obviously made different from every other being in Ninjago. But he had soon come to be reminded that he was indestructible, not perfect.

Much like the serpentine, he couldn't regulate his own body temperature but the effects are not fatal nor does it inhibit him in anyway physically. He feels hot but it doesn't hurt him at all. So what was his problem?

Being overly hot or cold all the damn time is very uncomfortable.

It was during the hotter days when he and his brothers who also share in this misery, when they were all hot to the touch, that Kozu would leave to hang around the Ninja. Tensions around the apartment would grow high with all of them being annoyingly hot and unable to do anything about it. Yes, there was air conditioning but Kozu hadn't reached that far enough into their savings to afford it yet. His brothers were fine with that and him leaving but they weren't very comfortable around the ninja as yet. They did like to hear when he spoke of them however. Especially Cryptor.

Speaking of, said Nindroid walked in just then, pausing to look at Kozu.

"Still sulking huh?" He huffed, setting his swords down on his sword rack, the Mask of Vengeance at the top.

Kozu has heard of it from their father once before. He knew the mask was not a thing to be trifled with.

"You know, you hurt Lloyd's feelings though. I thought you and him got along." Cryptor hummed as he moved about in his room, Kozu stubbornly glaring out the window.

"The child should have known better than to put his nose where it does not concern him." He says, keeping his arms away from his body by holding onto the window pane and spreading the lower two apart on the bed.

"Maybe. But you didn't have to get personal." Cryptor countered.

He supposed saying 'do you not have a father to look for?' was taking things too far. He wasn't in the mood to admit it however. So he says silent, sneering to himself as the heat kept soaking onto him. Cryptor was unimpressed.

"Look, I hate forcing anyone to talk about anything so whatever." He says then looked over his overly messy, heavy looking bun.

It was unusual for his hair to be messy after just coming from his place with his brothers. Maybe something happened at home. Either way, if he leaves his stupid thick, long ass hair like that then it'll be hell to comb later. Good thing he's prepared. With that, Cryptor picked up a metal comb and a reinforced brush that was specially made for his difficult hair.

"At least let me fix that mop you call hair before it gets even more complicated." He gruffed, walking over as he spun the comb.

He took Kozu's lack of response as a yes, climbing into the bed and kneeling behind him. He pulled the red scrunchie from his hair, leaving it to spill down his back. Cryptor was pleased to see it as glossy as it was. It meant not only has he been washing it, it should also be easier to comb. He set it aside then began to brush the surface knots out. This was the easier part of the whole process. Once the brush didn't hit anymore knots, he replaced it for the comb.

Here we go…

He started from the ends, holding it to reduce the tugging it would be bound to start up. He then started to work his way up and hit a pretty stubborn knot. He growled then gave it an impatient tug.

"Ouch! Fuck! Be careful will you?" Kozu says with a growl in his voice.

"What the fuck do you think I've been doing this whole fucking time?" Cryptor scowled, working the knot free.

Finally.

He did run into more knots- of course he did. This was Kozu's hair after all- but everything was less eventful. Other than a warning sign appearing in his field of vision, warming him that he was overheating.

"Oh fuck." He mumbled to himself then activated his cooling systems as he continued on making sure the comb could pass through his hair with ease before pulling it all back from his face.

He braided his hair, starting from the back of his head down, his mechanical fingers following the instructions researched with ease. With that done, he tugged a few parts, making the braid looser.

"Now was that so hard?" Cryptor huffed then patted his shoulder.

He moved to get off the bed- only for a hand to grab him by the arm and pull, sending the whole world turning dramatically. He blinked once he found himself wrapped tight in four arms, a stone cheek squished against his forehead.

Um.

"... Care to explain?" Cryptor asked after a moment since it was clear Kozu was content with silence.

"You're… Cool." Kozu mumbled after a while, pressing him closer to his body, laying down with him so he could curl up around him, a loud, happy purr rumbling through Cryptor as he did.

"The sentiment is appreciated but that doesn't answer my question." Cryptor pointed out.

"That is not what I mean Cryptor and you know it. Your temperature is lower." Kozu clarified. "Pleasantly so." He purred, rubbing his face against his forehead while Cryptor closed his eye against Kozu's rubbing.

"I turned on my cooking systems not too long ago. I was overheating." Cryptor says, not sure what to do in this situation but he wasn't inclined to rush anything.

"Can you get colder?" He asked and Cryptor nods, allowing his cooling systems to work a little harder to get him much colder.

Kozu's purrs somehow became louder as Cryptor tried to figure this out.

Maybe he just liked the cold? Cryptor doubted that very much. Almost nothing would get Kozu out and about during winter. Maybe he was just hot? That seemed more logical. He is made of stone after all. Do Stone Soldiers even sweat? He doubted that. He's never seen Kozu sweat before. Maybe he's a lot like a snake then. Unable to retain body temperature. That would make sense since again, he was stone. He didn't mind though. This. He had four arms which meant extra cuddling and hugging power. Extra support… it was good. Best yet…

Cryptor melts, purring mixing with Kozu's as wait Stone Soldier began to run his fingers through his hair slowly.

He can still be fully cuddled while his hair was pet and his chin scratched. Kozu didn't go for the chin this time. His hand brushed his neck before his claws began to gently scratch behind his ear and oh fuck. Cryptor was nothing but goo. That felt so fucking good holy shit…

Kozu was all too thankful for the relief from his misery, happily paying Cryptor back by petting him like he liked. Like they both liked. He hoped he didn't mind if he took a nap. Sleeping was hard to do when the nights were almost as hot as the day. He yawned then, just thinking of sleep, his fangs shining in the light of day as his long, pierced, forked tongue pressed itself against the base of his mouth. He nuzzled the cool metal of Cryptor's face and settled with a huff, his purrs cooling a bit.

He kept scratching and petting, even as his eyes began to close. They soon stilled as he dropped off, fast asleep. Cryptor laid their content, despite Kozu's hands stilling their petting. He wasn't very sleepy but he was still being firmly cuddled so that was a definite win. He kept his eye closed still. He could drift for a while…

______

When Kozu blinked his eyes open a few short hours later, he felt pleasantly cool and rested. Content. Soft purrs started up in his chest as he closed his eyes again to relish. He would have never expected to manage to cool down like that. Or even sleep. And it was all thanks to Cryptor. He lifted his head to get a proper look at him. Whom was asleep. Kozu huffed then continued to run his fingers through his short, fluffy hair, fiddling with a lock as he began to purr as well. He reminds him of his other stone brothers. His other stone brothers whom were no doubt suffering from the heat still. He wanted to- He blinked.

Cryptor cooled him down… Was still keeping him cool. He could do the same for his brothers… Of course! He untangled himself from Cryptor, careful not to wake him before scooping him up in his lower arms. Once Cryptor remained asleep, he made his move. He opened Cryptor's door and immediately headed out, his Land Shredder his goal. Surprisingly, he hadn't run into any of the ninja along the way. He didn't really care though. He set a sleeping Cryptor in the front and got in the driver's seat, starting it up and heading towards New Ninjago City.

Cryptor only stirred when he was less than half way there.

"Ugh, what the fuck?" He says as he looked around, confused as to why he was in a vehicle when he remembered falling asleep in bed. "Where are you taking me?" He asked Kozu who only smirked.

"You will see." He spoke and Cryptor casted him a wary look.

He doesn't believe Kozu's intentions were to harm but he still felt wary. At the very least, they were still in New Ninjago City, a place he knew like the back of his hand. Cryptor watched as the high rise technologically advanced buildings gave way to smaller, traditional buildings that had some age to it. The remains of the old city. It dawned on Cryptor then. He was about to finally meet Kozu's brothers, wasn't he? It was confirmed once Kozu stopped before an apartment complex it appears.

"Did you at least tell the ninja?" Cryptor asked as Kozu slipped out, following suit a moment after.

"No." Was all Kozu ssys, walking up to the building and pulling out his keys to open the door. "Come in." He says, walking inside.

"That's called kidnapping you know." Cryptor says as he walked in behind him.

"It is not kidnapping if you willingly came." Kozu ssys, glancing over his shoulder at him then stopped in the main living space where a few of his brothers were.

'Brother, you have returned early… And with a guest…' A warrior greeted in their native language, casting a wary look at Cryptor.

'Yes, I have. This is Cryptor, the one I often spoke of.' Kozu gestured to Cryptor who awkwardly waved his hand once, figuring Kozu was introducing them.

Stone language was something only Stone soldiers knew and they seemed content to keep it that way.

'Ah. The Nindroid.' The same warrior says as they all relaxed some. "Pleasure to meet you." He says, switching to Ninjagian language.

"Yeah. Same." Cryptor nods.

Cryptor wasn't very phased when he found himself scooped up and being carried off like some damsel in distress.

"I can walk you know." He says drily, crossing his arms.

"Maybe so." Kozu says lightly then deposited Cryptor on a surprisingly soft bed. "My brothers are also plagued by the heat. I would like for you to allow them to cool down as well." He said as a few watched curiously from the door.

"... You could've just asked like a normal person. Fine. I don't mind." Cryptor shrugs, sitting up.

He lowered his body temperature again since it went up during sleep, waiting a moment for him to cool more before nodding at Kozu. Said Stone Soldier turned to his brothers.

'He will help you all cool down.' He says and they perked up at the mention of cooling down. 'Go ahead. He is cold to the touch.' He encouraged and they all looked at each other before a stone Scout made the first move.

Being as small as he was, heat gets to him more than the others. He looked up at Cryptor from the edge of the bed that was manually cut low considering their height. Cryptor reached a hand out to the small soldier and they reached out hesitantly, taking it. The Scouts slitted eyes blew wide open, leaving him looking like a puppy before he scrambled onto the bed, clinging to Cryptor's arm and rubbing his cheek against it with loud, happy purrs. Cryptor snorted at the small soldier. Cute… That is, until he found himself pinned under 14 stone soldiers, eagerly purring and clinging to him.

Ok, so they were still cute then too. Like a gaggle of puppies. Cryptor laid there, resigned to his faith as a life sized cooler. But then someone began stroking his hair and it was even better. They all looked at him surprised when he started to purr- but the surprise only lasted a few seconds before they relaxed even further around him, guards lowered. Kozu watched them all with warmth in his chest. Pleasant warmth. He then headed out and up the stairs to find the three missing soldiers.

They weren't hard to find. They three scouts were all out hissing at each other on the 6th floor, ready to fight- that is until Kozu picked all three of them up by the backs of their shirts and carried them downstairs as they growled irritably. He didn't say anything, only brought them over to their brothers who freed up a spot on Cryptor's body for them to cling to. Immediately, their growls turned to purrs once they came in contact with cold metal. Kozu sat on the upper half of the bed, his back against the wall as he reached out to comb his claws through the closest head. This warrior so happened to have shoulder length straight hair.

"Are you alright Cryptor?" Kozu asked, glancing at the Nindroid face, the only part of him fully visible from the mass of purring stone soldiers.

"Yeah. M' good." Cryptor says, ruffling very short hair that pushed itself into his palms.

The cold he was emitted would have been uncomfortable without their warmth to neutralize it. Right now, with several, constant purrs rumbling like thunder, he was content.

_________

Cryptor waited for them to fall asleep before navigating his way out of the stone pile around him later that night. He had to call the ninja and let them know he was alright before Kai burns the city down or something more moronic. Kozu wasn't asleep, his green eyes glowing into the night but he hadn't stopped him. He headed towards the bathroom he gestured to then activated his communicator. He paused then, looking in the mirror.

Well I'll be damned.

He looked his hair over in the mirror, noticing with a tilt of his head that the back was partially braided, cylindrical red beads holding the ends of the braids, preventing them from becoming undone. They left most of it as it as normal but just at the side of the metal playing covering the right side of his head, he could see tiny braids held by just as small, red beads. He didn't even feel them do it. He gave an awed huff.

"Cryptor?! That you?!" Kai yelled into his ear then and Cryptor winced.

"Fuck don't yell. Jeeze. Anyway, I'm fine. I'm spending the night at Kozu's." He says, brushing his fingers over the braids.

"Really? Why didn't you tell us? We thought…" Kai began to rant into his ear and Cryptor let a smile slip onto his face.

No wonder Kozu praises their skills so much.

___________

Bonus:

"Kozu what the actual fuck." Cryptor says the next day, positively swimming in his borrowed shirt.

"It is either mine or one of theirs." Kozu simply shrugged, allowing his brothers to decorate his still braided hair.

Cryptor looked at the warriors who were closer to his body type but also shorter than he was. No doubt their shirts would ride up uncomfortably.

Cryptor looked down at the baggy black jeans and white t-shirts with extra arm holes.

He supposes he'll just have to deal until his laundry is done...

_________________

(Back at it again with the Cryptor stuff. Hnnn I just... Am trash for these idiots. Especially mAh boi Kozu but ye. Hope you liked it!)

#ninjago #kozu #general kozu ninjago #kozu ninjago #general kozu #cryptor ninjago #cryptor #general cryptor #lloyd ninjago #lloyd #lloyd garmadon #kai smith #kai ninjago #kai #aweebwrites' work

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sugamoonv · 6 years

Text

Chapter 4

Title: At Last

Word Count: 3k+

Genre: Drama, Romance, Supernatural

Pairings: Poly!BTS x Reader/ OT7 x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, a lil bit more smut-but not a lot

Summary: Since the beginning of their existence, BTS has been cursed to share one soulmate with each other. It doesn’t help that she’s mortal and they’re not.

Masterlist/ Chapter 3/ Chapter 5

Jungkook catches your unconscious body. He lifts you bridal style and brings you to your bed, tucking you under the covers. He watches your sleeping form and softly caresses your face before he walks out of the room. Namjoon, Jimin, Hoseok, Taehyung, and Jungkook reconvene in Jimin’s room. All of them silent and downtrodden.

“What do we do?” Jungkook quietly asks. He looks to Namjoon for guidance.

“Get rid of him,” Hoseok glowers, “she’s ours.”

“And how do we do that, huh?” Namjoon snaps. Hoseok gives Namjoon an expectant look. “Absolutely not!”

“What? What was he thinking?” Taehyung asks Namjoon.

“Well do you have any other suggestions?” Hoseok throws his hands up exasperated.

“We can’t force her. She has to decide for herself,” Namjoon ignores Taehyung and scolds Hoseok.

“Why would she want someone else when she has us?” Jimin hugs his knees to his chest. Jungkook reaches out and comfortingly rubs Jimin’s knee.

“Maybe it’s not that serious,” Jungkook suggests.

“We wouldn’t exactly be forcing her to do anything,” Hoseok returns to the previous conversation. Namjoon sends a final glare. Huffing, Hoseok gets up and storms across the room.

“You can’t see him” Namjoon stops Hoseok after reading his thoughts.

“Why?”

“Talk normally,” Taehyung demands, “Not all of us can read minds.”

Namjoon and Hoseok are locked in a staring match, battling for dominance. “You know Yoongi’s sensitive right now,” Namjoon answers out loud, “you’re too angry and it’ll only make him worse. Jin’s the only one who can control his emotions enough so it doesn’t affect him.”

Hoseok clenches his fists and goes to sit back down, “So what do we do?”

“What if Tae used his power?” Jimin asks hopefully.

Namjoon considers the idea, “That could work.”

“No!” Taehyung protests, “I could hurt her,” his eyes are wide with worry.

“Is her having a boyfriend and us not being able to do anything much better?” Hoseok yells, overly frustrated. “Besides there nothing that we do that we couldn’t fix with her.”

Taehyung regards Hoseok with wide eyes for a minute before he hangs his head in submission, “Okay.”

***

Sunlight filters into your room through the blinds. Your limbs feel heavy. You flinch at the bright light that hits your unadjusted pupils and with a groan, you manage to roll yourself onto your other side, away from the window.

Your head is pounding. Your eyes come into focus and you see a plastic cup of water and a tissue next to it. Upon closer inspection, you notice two small, white pills laying on the tissue. Most likely pain reliever. You take the pills and drink the water in one go.

You grab your phone that’s also on the nightstand and unhook it from the charger. You don’t remember plugging it in, nor getting yourself to bed. You try to recount last night’s events for an explanation, only to come up blank. You read the time on your screen. It’s well into the afternoon already. You lay back on the bed with a frustrated moan and unlock your phone to read the texts sent to you. Jinny had left you a series of messages.

You throw your legs over the side of the bed and hurriedly walk to your suitcase. You change out of yesterday's outfit and into a new one. You’re pretty sure you could seriously compete for the world record at getting ready the quickest, you think to yourself as you brush your teeth as fast as possible. You rush out of your room to Jinny’s next door, and stand outside her room, slightly out of breath.

“Hey,” Jinny opens the door and greets you with a bright smile after nearly colliding with you, “you got here just in time.”

“You’re actually leaving? Why?” you ask in one breath. “Our plane doesn’t leave until tomorrow morning.”

Jinny shrugs while lifting the handle of her suitcase, “I just want to go home.” Her response sounds a bit rehearsed, “And Jimin booked me a ticket so I can leave today.”

“What?”

Did Jimin personally buy Jinny a ticket so she could leave? This doesn’t make any sense. Even then, Jinny’s not the type to just randomly leave on impulse.

Jinny shrugs again, “Don’t worry,” she rubs both of your shoulders, “I checked and you’ll still be able to get home.”

Jinny squeezes past you out of the room. You follow behind, still confused. A tension headache makes its way back making your head feel as though it's throbbing. A car is waiting outside for her along with Jimin and Yoongi, which surprises you.

Yoongi looks a little surprised too at your presence. His ears turn red and you can his hand twitch as he resists the urge to touch them, and he shifts his eyes from you down to the sidewalk he’s standing on. You sigh, conflicted because you need to talk to Yoongi but the fact that your best friend is suddenly leaving takes priority. You ramble, trying to convince Jinny last minute to stay because you don’t think you can trust yourself enough to be alone with the boys without doing something reckless. They all had this strange, magnetic pull on you.

Jinny freezes in front of the car suddenly, her gaze becoming unfocused and blank. Jimin’s smile falters as he watches Jinny. For a moment, you think you convince her, but then Jimin quickly steps towards her and places a hand on her shoulder. She snaps out of the trance and resumes placing her suitcases into the trunk of the car. Jimin’s smile returns as he helps Jinny with her other bag then hands her the ticket. He almost looks relieved?

“So I’m off,” Jinny walks back over to you and envelopes you in a hug. She leans on the open car door, “Thank you for bringing me. I know lately, I’ve been kind of a shitty friend, but I really do love you,” she keeps her voice low. You nod, not sure how to respond.

As the car drives away, Jimin wraps his arms around your waist from behind and rests his chin on your shoulder. It’s only been a day, but you’re already used to this level of skinship from him.

“Come on, let’s go eat,” Jimin coaxes.

There’s a restaurant connected to the hotel that Jimin leads you to. Yoongi had walked behind you two the entire way, too busy looking at his feet to see you constantly looking back at him. You would be lying if you had said that you were indifferent to Yoongi not walking with you. The rest of the boys were sitting together on a thin mat on the floor, an extremely short table in the middle of them. They had left three spaces for you, Jimin, and Yoongi.

A few shot glasses and beer bottles littered the table. You looked over at the chef that was preparing food a bit away from your table. You sit next to Jin and Jimin fills in the other space next to him. You can tell from Jin’s blushed cheeks and his loud laugh, that he was already a few drinks in. Jungkook didn’t look too far behind as he let out a large burp and started laughing at Jin laughing.

“Did you sleep okay?” Namjoon asks.

Jin’s hand suddenly moves from on top of the table to your knee and gives a squeeze. You have to take a moment to form an answer as Jin’s advancement caused a wave of excitement to travel from where his hand is to your lower stomach, “Yeah, I did.”

“Oh! Thank You whoever left me Tylenol this morning. I don’t why but I had a major headache when I woke up,”

Taehyung, Hoseok, and Jimin all look towards Jin. “Ah! Don’t look at me! I didn’t do it. You know if it was me, she wouldn’t have needed it in the first place,” he points in Hoseok’s and Taehyung’s direction jokingly.

You don’t know what Jin means by that but it doesn’t prevent a blush from forming.

“Aww, it must have been our precious little Kookie. Looking out for our baby,” Hoseok coos.

You miss the pet name assigned to you as you’re distracted by Hoseok grabbing onto the back of Jungkook’s neck as he speaks, and shakes him, with an adoring smile on his face. Jungkook looks at you with a shy smile and his face reddens.

The smell of food wafts into your nose, which makes you realize how hungry you actually are. Your stomach growls loudly. The boys must have heard because they all giggle and Jin starts piling food on your plate when the food is placed on the table. Your heart swells at how sweet the gesture is.

You must have been talking to them for hours. Not that you would be able to accurately tell. Alcohol has a way of making time pass by quicker. It also has a way of making you less self-conscious and lowering your inhibitions. Because after a few shots in, you had begun letting the boys take turns feeding you and made no objections as Jin grew bolder and inched his hand further up your thigh.

The alcohol in your system only worked to amplify your infatuation with the boys, and you drunkenly squeal at something Taehyung says when Jin fully leans into you. You feel his breath fan across your throat and his grip on your thigh tightens. Your stomach and thighs tense up in pleasure and you struggle to keep focus. You assume that he’s drunker than you, so despite your more than positive reaction to his touch, you make no move. Your eyes flicker towards Yoongi. His eyes are slightly hooded and he’s breathing a little heavier. Jin starts placing kisses on your neck, working his way up and you must be imagining it, but you swear you hear one of the boy's whimper.

Jin reaches your face and starts peppering kisses at the corner of your mouth and cheek. He gently turns your head towards him to capture your lips with his. You’re a bit too drunk from the alcohol and now from Jin to make any complaints. Not that you would have, had you been sober, you think.

Jin’s kiss is different than Yoongi’s. While Yoongi’s kiss had been shy at first, turning desperate, Jin was surer. Jin’s plush lips drag sensually against yours, creating friction. Your noses bump every so often as you move in sync. Jin deepens the kiss and slides his hands up to your hips to lift you onto his lap. Your lips stay connected as you adjust to fully straddle him. Your heart slows to match the pace of the kiss. Every part of you in tune with the movement of Jin’s lips. Your thighs tremble as Jin lets out a low moan at the sensation of your fingers running down his taut stomach.

“Jin, stop,” Namjoon meekly commands.

Jin ignores him and starts kissing you harder, pulling your hips directly against his lower stomach, coaxing a moan from you. He lets out a shuddered breath at the sound and moves back to your neck, nipping different spots until he finds the place that’s most sensitive and works on leaving a bruise.

“Jin, stop,” Namjoon gains more control over his voice.

Jimin puts his hand on Jin’s shoulder, forcing him to finally pull away from you. Jin looks over your shoulder and growls at Namjoon. The sign of possessiveness sends another wave of pleasure to your core and you drop your head to Jin’s shoulder trying to catch your breath. His fingers dig harshly into your hips as he fights Jimin’s influence.

“She’s drunk,”

“I’m not that drunk,” you slightly slur. You push yourself away from Jin and fall back into your original spot.

“Don’t tempt us,” Hoseok restrains himself. His eyes are squeezed shut, hands gripping the table edge.

“It’s still not the right time,” Namjoon softly explains to you.

You try to determine what his reasoning is, your inner monologue easily readily upon your face. “I’m not actually dating anybody,” you say slowly, believing it had to to with Jinny falsely telling them about Evan.

Oh god. They all think you have a boyfriend. Yoongi thinks you have a boyfriend. And you had just kissed him yesterday. And now here you were making out with one of his best friends too, in front of everybody. Namjoon didn’t stop you because he was worried about you, he stopped you because you were taking advantage of Jin. Jin was still drunk too. You felt like such a slut.

“I-I’m so sorry,” you choke out with a hiccup. Tears well up in your eyes.

“Oh! Why are you crying? Why is she crying?” Taehyung frantically asks, concerned and taken off guard.

“Um,” the alcohol in your system making you more emotional, “I’m sorry, I’m okay. I think maybe I should go.”

“What? No!” Jungkook protests. “Yoongi,” he looks to his elder, raising his eyebrows, motioning toward you.

Yoongi gets up from his spot and squats behind you. He rubs your shoulders and a wave of calm washes over you. Jin wipes away a stray tear from your cheek.

“You’re alright,” Yoongi whispers into your ear. You lean back into his chest and he shifts to better support your weight. The shame you feel disappears and instead you feel at ease and warm.

“Why was my kitten crying,” Jimin lightly teases, Though the boys can tell that he’s concerned.

You choose to overlook his nickname for you, “I don’t know, I think I just had a little bit too much to drink,” your voice is hoarse.

“Aw, cute.” Jimin giggles and reaches over Jin’s lap to hold your hand.

“How about we all go rest in your room? Does that sound good?” Namjoon suggests. You tiredly nod.

You slowly get up and stumble a bit once standing. Fortunately, Yoongi and Jin were quick to catch you.

“I think our Jungkook wants to carry her,” Namjoon laughs as he announces Jungkook’s inner thoughts.

“No. We got her. Thank you,” Jimin quickly dismisses Namjoon and squeezes himself between you and Jin.

“I can walk,” and you can, but you don’t exactly do anything to remove Jimin’s arm from your waist or Yoongi’s grip on your arm.

Walking through the lobby, you glance at the windows to see that the sun has nearly set. How long had you been eating? You catch sight of your reflection in the window as you pass by. Your hair is slightly tousled, lips puffy and cheeks red.

You look at Yoongi, blinking multiple times to get rid of the blurriness, “I’m sorry I kissed you,” you mumble.

Yoongi glances down at you and purses his lips, “I’m not.”

“No one’s upset at you for kissing Yoongi-hyung and Jin-hyung,” Taehyung interjects in your’s and Yoongi’s conversation.

“How-” your eyes widen up at Yoongi, “You told them?” Your thoughts race around your head, “But wait, why aren’t you mad?” your eyes flicker to each of their faces.

“There’s nothing you could do that would make us mad at you,” Hoseok reassures. He steps close in front of you and tilts his head down to look at you. His eyes are dark. He glances at Taehyung then back at you. Hoseok’s gaze becomes more intense. “You have no idea how much you mean to us.”

A shiver runs down your spine and your heart skips a beat. What the hell? You had never imagined that any of them would act like the way they had been in the last two days. You'd have never expected yourself to ever be this bold in your life. And yet here you were, your entire world flipped upside down.

Hoseok pets your cheek, “Come on.” The boys usher you into your room. You had all been standing in front of your door for quite some time. You hadn’t even realized.

“Get some rest, sweet girl.” Namjoon delicately says, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “you’re going to need it.” Namjoon turns to face Taehyung with an expression you can’t see, “You’re going to be alright?” Taehyung somberly nods. “We’ll be outside if you need us,” Namjoon past Taehyung’s shoulder as he walks out with the rest of the boys.

You look on disjointed as you’re left out of the loop. Taehyung stands in front of you, wringing his hands. Should you be concerned?

He moves closer to you and sighs, a frown on his face, “I’m sorry.”

“Wh-” Taehyung presses his fingers to your temples and you catch his pupils expanding before your world cuts out. Bright flashes of color burst in front of your eyes as if you had been staring at the sun for too long. You hear a static ringing in your ears and an uncomfortable pressure builds near your temporal lobe. Every muscle in your body paralyzed.

***

Everything seems almost normal when you return home. You arrived back at your shared apartment when you were meant to. Jinny happily welcomed you back and made you dinner. Oddly enough, she didn’t ask or even mention BTS. Your moments with her were bittersweet.

“They made me their assistant,” you repeat yourself to Jinny for the fifth time. The morning of your departure, one of BTS’s managers had run up to you, offering you a job as the boy’s assistant. You doubted that you were even qualified or if it was real since it was out of the blue, but you weren’t dumb enough to turn it down.

A week goes by. BigHit sends movers to your apartment to collect your stuff to officially move you into the dorms with the boys after they finished touring. Jinny was incredibly supportive, spouting out all the things you would be able to do working for them and demanding you stay in contact. She was also, understandingly, a bit upset.

It was your last day home before you left for good. Your bedroom was bare and all of your knick-knacks and belongings had been removed from around the apartment. Jinny was helping you pack the last of the clothes you were bringing.

There’s a knock at your door. You furrow your eyebrows at Jinny, not expecting anyone to be here yet. Jinny giddily runs to the door and opens it revealing a strange man.

“I can’t believe you’re actually leaving me,” the man says looking at your suitcases, “Whatever am I going to do without you here,” he jokes.

You stare at him, brows still furrowed, “I’m sorry. Do I know you?”

Him and Jinny chuckle at you. You continue to stare at the man, now slightly offended. He keeps talking to you as if he knows you personally.

“Sorry, wait, are you a friend of Jinny’s or something?” you cut him off, “because I don’t think she’s mentioned you.”

“Are you being serious?” the man asks, finally taking you seriously. You nod and quirk your eyebrows. “Y/N, it’s me, Evan.”

“I’ve never met you.”

A.N: So I finally finished this chapter. I know it took a while. Thank you for being so patient! I hope you enjoy and as always, if you have any comments, constructive criticisms, or want to be added to the tag list- let me know xoxo

Tag List:

@rosymccheese @craftypersoncheesecake @ficcion-escrita @twilight-loveer @xsmilebitesx @idonthavehusbandsihavelovers @detectivebourbon @perfectlyfangirling @respectfully-yours-emily @delightfulyoongi @disfoqia @deathsasshole @mint-myg-yoongi @vljvanessa @justalineinasong15 @young-yellkie @jungkookssistan @mochaswirl @sincemalik

#poly bts bts au bts au fanfic bts bts fanfic soulmate au soulmate bts x reader bts x you rm x reader namjoon x reader namjoon x you namjoon

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serahsanguine · 5 years

Text

School, Sex and Subterfuge NC-17

Chapter 2 of ?

part one, A03,

tagging @today-in-fic

**********************************

Notes; follows directly after the last chapter.

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Chapter two; Information.

“Hello my name is Mulder, and I’m here to teach psychology. I will introduce you to contemporary research into social, development, cognitive and biological dimensions of behaviour. As part of your studies, you’ll look at the applications of psychology in a wide range of areas - from understanding the nature and causes of mental illness to investigating decision making in real life situations. As part of your course, you’ll conduct your own research.” Mulder’s eyes locked with Scully’s instantly and she felt, even in a room full room of people, they were the only ones there. He carried on speaking, his eyes never leaving hers. She was meant to be listening to him, but instead, she was mapping his face and body in great detail for purposes she wasn’t willing to accept yet.

The lecture lasted just about an hour and eventually, Scully managed to write down a few notes to get the general idea of the class. When the lights flicked on, she grabbed her notepad and pen and threw them in her bag. Moving past some people, whom she didn't care were staring directly at her, she got out of the classroom as quick a possible. She left Serah sitting there, they would meet back at their room. Scully couldn't breathe, her chest felt constricted. They had only met a couple of times but that teacher had an effect on her. She had had never felt this type of influence, this type of attraction. With one look he could turn her world on its end.

Scully arrived at her room, she managed to control her breathing and emotions once she was alone lying on her bed. What was she going? She really liked him, but he was a teacher. She was so lost in thought that she didn't notice that Serah had slipped into the room until she felt her bed dip.

“So, Dana, are you going to explain why you ran out of there like your hair was on fire?” Serah was concerned for her friend. She had never seen her act this erratic before. She looked at her friend lightly touching her arm, for comfort, to let her know that she was there for her.

“I don't know where to start.” It was an honest statement. Scully looked at her friend trying to offer some explanation to her. But she was at a loss. She stood up and started pacing the room, from window to door, back and forth.

“The beginning is always a good start.” Serah watched Scully pace and thought ‘Something’s really bothering her now’

“That's just it, I don't have a beginning. It isn't really an issue, it’s all probably in my head anyway.”

“Just calm down and talk to me, I'm here to listen.” Serah stood up and placed both her hands gently on Scully’s skin to stop her rapid walking. “I know I’m not the ideal person, but you said Melissa was touring Europe and isn't reachable.”

“Honestly, I’m overreacting. It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

Serah looked at Scully. She knew when her friend had set her mind to something there was no changing it, no getting her to open up. So she changed the subject. “I’m going to a party later and of course you’re invited. It’ll do you good.”

Mulder had just finished his lecture and he wanted to talk to the pretty redhead he kept bumping into throughout the day. He was intrigued by her, captivated by her beauty. He normally wouldn’t even look at a redhead, he was more of a brunette kind of guy. But he wanted her badly, and he wanted to find out more about her. All he knew was her name was Dana and with just one look from her, he could have an instant problem in his trousers. He nearly had an incident in a room full of students as soon as his eyes locked onto hers.

He was walking through the hallways. He knew he shouldn’t, but he needed some outside help. As soon as he got to the ICT department, he realised he should have known that all three of his friends would be there. They seemed to be working on their new newspaper article for two weeks time. It was called the Lone Gunman. The three men sat arguing about the next conspiracy and cover-up. They tried to find some credit every now and then, there was news portraying the school.

“Ahh hem…” Mulder stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, looking casual with a 100 watt smile on his face. He was laughing inside.

All three men jumped and went silent. Turning away from the computer monitor and towards the sound they heard, they let out a breath they didn’t know they were holding when they saw who was stood there.

“Mulder, my man! How are you?” Said the small bald man.

“I need you to do some extracurricular computing for me,” Mulder moved away from the door and into the room and found a seat.

“No problem, we're always happy to help. Now, what can we do for you?” The man replied, leaving some space for him. He looked happy at the prospect of his friend asking for help, it wasn’t something he did very often.

“Well, Frohike, I need you to look into some files for me.”

“And what files might that be?” Frohike gave him a questioning look but he knew he’d help him anyway.

Mulder spoke in a hushed tone now and moved his chair closer to his friends “I need you to look into a students file for me.

“Is this one of your flings? You have never asked us to look into any of them. So why now?”

“It doesn’t matter, can you do it or not?”

“Of course we can, we just need a name.” The blonde long-haired man replied quickly.

“Her name is Dana Scully, Langly. She is a redhead.” He said the last part in a whispered voice and all three men gave him a look, because they all knew his type was definitely not redheads.

Frohike and Langly got to discussing the best way to quietly hack into the school’s system and Mulder started talking to the third man.

“Byers, how’s computer science treating you?”

“Half my class seem to be more into phones than computers but I do have some promising students in my class”

“That’s great news.”

Mulder and Byers carried on with the small talk about work, home life, the simple stuff. Half an hour had passed before Frohike and Langly managed to get the information Mulder wanted.

“Mulder! We have her information: her name is Dana Katherine Scully, she 5ft 3in. She has one older sister and two brothers, one older one younger. She comes from a military family and she has moved around a lot. Her father is in the navy, a Captain. She is studying a bachelor's degree in Medicine, this is her second year. She seems like a high achiever, so seems to be aiming for high marks.”

If she is aiming high it will be easier to lure her into his little trap, Mulder thought, but did not voice his opinion “Thank you guys, I appreciate it.”

With that said, he nodded at his friends and walked out going about the rest of his day.

A few hours had passed and Serah had convinced Scully to go to the party and take her mind off whatever was bothering her, which she still wouldn’t talk about. Scully didn’t have anything to wear, so Serah lent her one of her outfits. It wasn’t Scully’s style, it showed too much skin for her liking but she went with it. It was a short black dress with a square neck cut and it had an open back.

Scully was just putting the last touches on her makeup, she wanted to look feminine and sexy, something she didn’t do very often. In her mind, it was a great distraction from Mulder.

Serah walked in the room wearing some dark black shorts and deep red crop top. Her hair was down and in soft curls. Scully thought she looked stunning and wondered if she could never wear something like that herself.

They left and walked toward the frat party. It was a nice gentle walk, the sun hung low and the air was warm. Scully was slightly apprehensive about the whole thing. She was nothing like her friend, who was outgoing and a party girl. She had always been the little nerdy girl who would work through the night to get a good grade. The one that preferred to stay in and read a book on a Friday night. Serah kept talking to her, trying to keep her calm and get her excited about actually getting ou. If she was honest about herself, it was working, if only a little bit.

They got to the house and the music was blaring, the party was in full swing. Serah entered first followed by Scully. Serah got them both drinks, making sure they weren't spiked, and then she went migling.

Time flashed by and Scully eventually had quite a few shots and couple beers. She even found a guy to talk to. Well, technically, he had found her. His name was Daniel and he was doing the same degree as her. He was flirting and putting on the charm. Scully was enjoying the attention. He was touching her, placing his hands on her hips, bumping and grinding with her in time with the music. The feeling of skin against skin as they danced was nice but her mind kept wandering to the tall dark and handsome man named Mulder. How his body would feel against hers, dancing with her, grinding against her. The feeling of his muscles that she had seen earlier tense under her touch. Would he have a small package, as they say, or would he fill her completely?

She was soon brought out of her thoughts when she felt Daniel’s hand try and move in between her legs. She stopped dancing immediately and pushed him away. Only then she realised how drunk she was and her imagination and inhibitions were lowered. But there was one thing she was certain of: it was not Daniel she wanted right now. It was Mulder, no matter how bad it seemed. This party was meant to get her mind off him, but that had not worked at all. She quickly said good night to Daniel and found Serah. Prying her off the guy she was necking onto, they walked back home together.

*************************

Scully woke up not as early as she would normally do. Her head was throbbing and the sun was not helping. She knew the party had been a bad idea but at least for a little bit she had enjoyed herself before her mind got the better of her. Serah was moving about the room as quiet as possible but she soon noticed Scully was awake.

“Hey, sleepyhead. Welcome back to the land of the living. How are you feeling?” Serah stopped pottering about and sat on her bed. She was dressed in some jeans and tank top ready for the day.

“Uhg, I drank too much last night. My head is killing me. How come you don’t look or feel like me right now?” Scully sat up on her bed trying to shield her eyes from the sun shining through the window. She looked at her friend and generally could not believe how awake and happy she looked.

“I don’t get hangovers,” Serah replied smiling. “I have set two advils and a glass of water on your bedside locker if that helps, and you can borrow my sunglasses for the day.”

Scully moaned again. “What time is it, anyway. You’ve never been a morning person.”

“It’s a little after 10.”

Scully gave her a look and then flopped back down in the bed. She was thankful for the lie in and thankful that her first lecture of the day wasn’t till one.

“I will see you later Dana. I got to go to class.” She left the room locking the door behind her.

“Bye!” Scully replied but Serah was already gone.

***************************

The weeks flew by. Mulder paid close attention to Scully in every lecture but trying not to make it too obvious that it was her that he had his eyes on. They had met several times at the gym but neither speaking a word to each other.

Scully was apprehensive about that day because everyone had their first assignments handed in. Today was the day of truths of sorts. Whether it was her imagination running wild with all the sideways glances at her or the chemistry she had felt between them across the room, she didn’t really know. Whenever she spoke, he would unconsciously lick his lips. She was wondering if he was actually going to pick her for his little side project.

So, there she was, sitting next to Serah and Mulder was walking around the room handing the papers back to his students. There were happy faces and sad faces and suddenly he was standing in front of them. He handed Serah her paper, which Scully glanced at and was impressed with her friend’s score of a B. Then Mulder moved in front of her and handed her assignment back. Their hands brushed and lingered and she swore she felt a physical spark between them. Her heart was beating so fast she thought it was going to bounce out of her chest. She knew it was impossible but it didn’t feel that way. Her stomach was doing flip flops and the nerves were making her feel sick. But she kept her face calm and stern, trying to show no emotion.

Their eyes locked, she loved the colour of his hazel eyes. They could pull you in and make you forget about everything. He didn’t say a word to her and he let go of her hand and carried on moving around the room. That’s when she finally tore her gaze off him and looked at her score on her paper: it was a C. Next to it, there was a little sticky note attached with his handwriting ‘See me in my office tomorrow at 7.30pm’.

Serah looked at her. As she saw the note she smiled. Her eyes said ‘I told you so’ so loudly she almost heard it. Scully didn’t know whether to be happy about the fact that her feelings were reciprocated, at least she wasn't going crazy. Or maybe she should be scared by the fact that he had feelings for her and wanted to see her after hours. One thing was for sure she needed her sister more than ever, she needed to talk to her. Before committing herself to anything.

#school sex and subterfuge #fanfic #fanfiction #mulder and scully #fox mulder #dana scully #part two #AU fanfiction #pre xfiles

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causticcarson · 5 years

Text

Quarter Life Crisis || Self Para

WHERE: Dingy Bar in Mystic Falls MENTIONS: Lynda James, Mason Duval, Belle Taylor TRIGGERS: Alcohol, Assault, Kidnapping

As far as he was concerned, his birthday was a hit and he felt more grateful each day he was in Mystic Falls. He knew about the doom and gloom that usually came with being around here but he’d only found things worth having. He’d learned more than he ever thought possible and gained so much more than he would have if he actually found his father here. Obviously, he had a hard time leaving his mother and that as a lot of the reason she usually stayed at a distance but not without contact. She kept updated one way or another but it didn’t make it easier. So naturally, it didn’t take Carson all that long to fall back into the old pattern of things. Falling into bars and house parties until he was tired or something interesting was worth following home. He usually started off at a high point, he went to high-class clubs like the Hellmouth and even managed to stop into the new Salvatore bar. But as his inhibitions were lowered as were his standards he wandered into less prestigious places. Floors that stuck to your shoes and tables that smelled like laundry that you’d left in the washer too long. It just so happened that all the smells weren’t comparable to the warmth and smell of alcohol. He wasn’t completely trashed, he could certainly still walk around but there was a stumble every once and awhile. In fact, he had no intentions of leaving anytime soon until he saw a girl walk in that had absolutely no business being there.

She had pitch black hair and light eyes that pierced him from across the room. The kinda girl he had no right even talking to but he did anyway. Even when he was certain his game was off he sauntered over, head held high but not as high as his shot glass. He intended on sharing it with her now that he saw her, both because he had it and also because he hadn’t much money left to buy her much more. This was all assuming she even wanted the shot from a scruffy decently drunk stranger. But she accepted it and entertained his less than funny jokes for almost half an hour. For whatever reason, she was interested in him and he wasn’t going to question it. No, he was counting his blessing and also hoping this was a late birthday present. Maybe Mason paid for a hooker to pick him up and even if that was true, he was cool with it as long as it was paid for. He hoped that meant he wouldn’t expect him home either. So when she started pulled him toward the exit he followed gladly, having to be half supported by her as he did.

With no real sense of direction, he followed her aimlessly. He never took people back to the home he shared with Mason because he respected it too much. That was their space and he didn’t need to taint it with his nightly antics. So he often woke up in houses he didn’t remember and towns he didn’t know. It wasn’t all that concerning with the map app these days anyway. Moving through the abandoned streets of Mystic Falls he was lead through what was described as a short cut. At least until the girl who was holding him up, dropped her support and abruptly slammed his head against the brick wall that was on either side of them. A suppressed groan leaves him as his head rings incessantly, slumping to the ground to lean against the wall now that he wasn't getting any help to move or stand. There was no way he was getting up on his own at this point. He could feel the blood rushing down the back of his neck which would attract a vampire soon enough. His vision hadn’t cut completely so he could see the girl who brought him out walking away. Her voice was muffled but he could make out, “I got him. He’s down for the count a few feet back.” A coarse breath leaves him as he watches a few men rush toward him to lift him from his place. He doesn’t fight them because he reckons it’ll only cause him more pain to his head, to his whole body that seemed to ache now. Once he's thrown into the back of the truck that had been pulled around back of the alleyway, he coughs up deep red blood and then wipes it away with his hand out of habit.

The last thing he notices before he loses consciousness is that the truck is one he’s worked on before. He’d have to remember to tell Belle to refuse them service next time.

#we love being 25 #wooooo #self para

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worryinglyinnocent · 6 years

Text

Fic: What Comes After (12/18)

Summary: Dead Like Me AU. After Belle French loses her life in an accident, she finds out that she has been recruited to join the ranks of the Grim Reapers, helping souls pass on. It’s a huge upheaval to deal with, but her fellow reapers are there to help her out, especially head reaper Gold.

Who says you can’t find love after life?

Rated: E for Explicit.

Please note that the rating has gone up from previous chapters!

[One] [Two] [Three] [Four] [Five] [Six] [Seven] [Eight] [Nine] [Ten] [Eleven] [AO3]

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Twelve

Belle would admit to feeling a little bit giddy as well as a little bit nervous, and she wondered how much of her nervousness and giddiness was down to the weather. Summer had finally come to Storybrooke, and with the increased heat had come an increased sense of liberation and lowered inhibitions.

She had been astonished when she’d walked into the diner that morning in the middle of her rounds in order to collect her post-its for the day and had seen Gold not only not wearing his jacket, but also not wearing his tie or waistcoat. Even as the weather had been getting steadily warmer over the past couple of months, she had never seen him looking anything less than immaculate in his three-piece suit and tie in public. She’d seen him without his jacket when he was in the back room of the shop, or when he was in his own home, but she’d never seen him wearing this few layers.

For a while she had been working on the principle that perhaps, having been dead for as long as he had, the outside temperature of the world didn’t affect him, but since all of the other reapers, herself included, had been complaining about the heat for the past week, she’d come to the conclusion that he was just strange.

Now though, he had proved that he was just as human as the rest of them.

“Darling!” Ella exclaimed as she came in. “Whatever has come over you? You’re practically naked!”

This rather loud statement attracted the attention of everyone in the diner, and Gold sighed, rubbing his forehead and holding out Ella’s post-it for her.

“Thank you, Ella, for that wonderful start to the morning,” he said. “We’re not at all inconspicuous now.”

“Gold, we sit here every morning discussing death and receiving cryptic post-it notes; we couldn’t be more suspicious if we tried,” Ella said happily, squeezing into the booth next to David, who was trying very hard not to laugh at her antics, knowing that Gold wouldn’t appreciate it. Belle, on the other hand, focussed intently on her fruit salad and refused to meet the eyes of anyone else around the table. The idea of Gold being practically naked was one that she’d been revisiting an awful lot over the last couple of months of their being together, and now that the weather was warmer, and her blood was warmer with it, she found herself revisiting it even more frequently, usually in the dead of night in the company of her vibrator.

Tonight, though, Belle thought that perhaps heady daydreams might finally become reality. Gold had invited her over for dinner, which was not in and of itself an invitation for something more. They had both cooked for each other on several occasions over the last few weeks of their relationship, and whilst there was usually kissing involved at some point during the evening, there had never been any intimation of going any further than that.

Except today, Belle had decided that she was going to take matters into her own hands, literally if necessary. She’d been reading all the signals, and she thought that the time was right to make her move. Their kisses had been getting much more heated recently, and hands had been wandering from the more chaste positions that they had started in. If they were in Gold’s house, in his domain, then perhaps he would be more comfortable with taking the next step that she was sure they both wanted.

“Belle?”

Belle finally tuned back into the conversation in the diner to find that Gold and Ella had left, evidently having been unable to penetrate her daydream to say goodbye, and David was on the point of going as well. He was wearing a wry smile, and just gave her a wink as he left his money on the table for Granny and went out of the diner.

Belle just groaned, resting her head on the counter.

“What’s up, Belle?” Mulan asked. “You’ve been distracted the entire time you’ve been here, and you didn’t look at Gold once. Has something happened between you two?”

Belle shook her head quickly. “No, no, everything’s going smoothly. Nothing’s happened.” She paused. She could trust Mulan with her relationship worries. The only other person she’d ever had to talk about them was Ruby, who, although present at Dorothy’s apartment ever more frequently, was still off the menu.

“I sense a ‘but’.” Mulan gave her a knowing look. “Come on. Out with it. Unburden all your frustrations on me, whatever they might be.”

“Well, I think in a way, it might be the fact that nothing’s happened that’s the problem, if you get my drift.”

Mulan nodded. “I understand all right. There’s an itch that you really want to scratch with him, but you don’t think he’s interested in scratching it?”

“Oh no, I think he’s interested,” Belle said. “I just don’t think that he’s going to act on that interest without persuasion.”

“Well, he is nearly one hundred and fifty years old, so it’s probably not that surprising that he still has some Victorian values kicking about in there. There’s only so much that you can move with the times.” Mulan grinned. “But if you think that he needs persuasion, then I don’t see why you shouldn’t try and persuade him. It might be fun.”

Belle bit her lip, thinking about the forthcoming date that evening and wondering exactly how to go about it. She’d never really planned a seduction before; with her previous boyfriends, the bedroom stage had just happened by mutual agreement after a few dates.

“What if it goes wrong though? I’ll be at his house, and I don’t really want to have to do the walk of shame before anything’s even happened.”

“Well, if it does all go wrong, all you have to do is call me and I’ll come to your aid, and we can moan about the obtuseness of men together.”

“Mulan, you’re a lesbian.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t have experience when it comes to the obtuseness of men. The difference is that mine is usually because I don’t want them to sleep with me.”

Belle laughed. “All right. If it all goes pear-shaped, you can be my knight in shining armour.”

“You’ll be fine. If you both want it then it’ll happen, even if it does take a little while. You’ve got to take these opportunities when you can get them.”

Belle gave Mulan a sage look; her friend was looking rather excited and she didn’t think that it was down to the hopefully imminent rekindling of Belle’s sex life.

“Is there some news I was not aware of?” she asked.

Mulan nodded.

“Merida’s got some time off and she’s coming over. Gold’s agreed to let me have a couple of days without reaps so we can spend some uninterrupted time together. It’s going to be a weekend of sex and whisky and jokes about bears and I can’t wait.”

“That’s great news, Mulan, I’m really happy for you.” Belle didn’t question the jokes about bears.

“I know. Now all we have to do is get you and Gold on the right track as well, and everyone will be well satisfied.”

Belle smiled, but Mulan made it sound so easy.

It was almost time to go, and Belle had been pacing up and down her bedroom for over an hour, wondering what to wear. She’d changed her outfit about three times and she was still second-guessing her underwear. In the end she’d decided on a light blue dress as a concession to the heat, and pale cream underwear that she felt comfortable in. There was no use in her wearing red satin and lace if she was going to be turning bright crimson herself as soon as he saw it. If she was going to be taking the lead in this next stage of their relationship, then she needed to be able to do that and not wonder about what he thought of her underwear.

She was going to be thinking about that anyway, no matter what she wore, but at least in this familiar set she’d be happier and more confident in herself.

It was time to go. She grabbed her purse, checked that there were condoms in there, although, could she get pregnant or carry venereal diseases if she was technically dead? Well, better safe than sorry; that wasn’t a conversation that she wanted to be having with Gold in the heat of the moment. They could discuss that after the fact once the deed had been done and she wasn’t quite as nervous about instigating the whole thing.

God, she wanted him so much, that wasn’t the problem. She’d been thinking about sleeping with him for weeks now. It wasn’t the act itself that was making her nervous. It was how to get to the act in the first place. If she could just flip a switch and have both of them naked and falling into bed together then life would be much easier.

Belle left the apartment and walked the few blocks out of the town centre towards the suburbs and Gold’s house. It was one of those buildings that she’d passed often in her post rounds and never knew who lived there, a house with obvious history and character, standing alone and quite distinct from the other houses around it. When she’d found out that Gold lived in this very house, she’d immediately showered him with questions about it and they’d spent the entirety of the evening just talking about the sprawling salmon pink place he called home.

She took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. Would he know that she was planning to seduce him? Would he be receptive to her efforts if he did?

Gold was still looking casual when he opened the door; even more casual than he had been in the diner. His usual dress shirt had been switched for a more casual linen one and he was wearing jeans. Belle had never thought about Gold wearing jeans before. She’d become so used to seeing him wearing suits that she didn’t think he even owned a pair of jeans, and it took her several seconds of staring at him to realise that they were still standing in the doorway and she hadn’t actually said hello yet.

“Hi,” she managed eventually.

Gold chuckled. “I know, it’s the jeans, they throw everyone the first time.”

“I just… You’re always so attached to your suits,” Belle said as she stepped inside and he closed the door after her. “Don’t get me wrong, you look good in your suits. You look good not in your suits too. I mean, you look good now,” she added hastily, not wanting him to get the wrong impression even if that was exactly what she was trying to lead up to later. No sense in running before she could walk, and right now walking was proving a challenge when she was transfixed by Gold’s arse in his denim. Good grief, how was she ever going to get through dinner like this?

She took a deep breath to compose herself and followed him through to the kitchen. Chicken was sizzling on the stove and there was a large salad bowl on the side that he was chopping spring onions into.

“I didn’t think we’d want anything too heavy,” he said. “It’s so warm out; turning the oven on would just make us roast in here as well.”

Belle accepted the glass of wine that he offered her and sat down at the table, watching as he finished up the meal. She supposed that his cooking prowess came from so many more years of experience having to fend for himself than she had. And having to fend for Ella, if the tales of her kitchen disasters were to be believed.

“You should wear jeans more often,” she commented. “We never see you out and about looking casual. I think it would help with the PR, you know. You’re the only grim reaper who always actually looks the part in your dark suits.”

Gold shrugged. “It’s a throwback to pawnbroking,” he said. “I don’t get as much custom in that area as I used to, I mainly just deal antiques now, but it used to be very lucrative. As a pawnbroker I always used to dress in the best I could afford. It gives people confidence that you have the money that they need so desperately. Besides. I like wearing suits. Just like you like wearing your high heels.”

Belle looked down at her feet, encased in strappy silver sandals with a four-inch heel.

“I guess so. I don’t get to wear them for work, though.”

Although delivering the mail was always intended to be a temporary job until she could get on her feet and find something else, Belle had found it so useful when going about her reaps that she didn’t want to quit now. It was hard work a lot of the time and she was out in all weathers, but she found that she really didn’t mind it, and being out in the early mornings before the rest of the world was awake, seeing the town wake up around her, had given her a brand-new appreciation for this second chance at life.

“Yes. I think that people might have to double-take at a post lady going around on her bike wearing stilettos.”

The chicken was done, and Gold brought the food over to the table. The kitchen was a cosy place, perhaps a little too warm to be eating in there in the summer, but Belle liked the intimate atmosphere. Hopefully it would lead to even more intimate things a little down the line.

Once he’d finished eating, Gold sat back in his chair, running a hand through his hair and letting out a long breath.

“Shall we move to the living room for dessert?” he asked. “I think it might be cooler in there, it doesn’t get as much sun in it during the day.”

Belle was happy to oblige. The living room was far more suited to what she had in mind anyway.

Dessert was a strawberry cheesecake with ice-cream. For all he was generally good in the kitchen, Gold was terrible with desserts and always went for store-bought, which was fine in Belle’s book. As long as it had sugar in it and tasted good, then she was happy with it, and a small part of her did enjoy having something that she was better at than him despite him having been around for so much longer than her. He had always been incredibly appreciative of her baking skills whenever he had been round for a meal at her place, and the memory of his compliments made her smile.

She kept stealing little glances at him as they ate, wondering if his mind was going in the same direction as hers was. This was different for them, it was something new. They were eating in the living room as the sun went down, and Gold was the most casual and relaxed that she had ever seen him. She felt like she had been let into some kind of inner sanctum, and she hoped that meant what she thought it did. She hoped that it was an invitation to get a little bit further into that sanctum. Maybe to the upstairs.

He’d given her a full tour of the house when she’d asked for it that first time she had come over, but this was a different matter.

It was time to test the water. Belle put down her empty bowl and slid a little closer to him on the sofa.

“That was delicious, thank you,” she said. “It’s been a wonderful evening altogether.”

There was something that could make it even more wonderful, but Belle didn’t say that just yet. She waited for Gold to put down his wine glass before going in for a kiss. He accepted her readily, hands splaying over her back to pull her in closer. They’d come this far before, and now it was time to see if they could go any further.

“It has been wonderful,” Gold agreed once they finally broke away. He licked his lips where they had touched Belle’s, and she could see that his eyes were bright with some kind of unspoken desire. The next thing would be to see if she could actually get him to speak it.

“It doesn’t have to end yet, though,” Belle said. She kissed him again and he surrendered into it, almost melting into her embrace. If he kissed her like this all over, then she would die and go to heaven. “I mean, I don’t have to go home just yet,” she added. “In fact, I don’t have to go home tonight at all. It’s not like I have to be up early to do my post round in the morning.”

For a long moment, Gold didn’t react, and Belle wondered if she had been picking up the wrong vibes from him and this wasn’t going in the direction she thought it had been. Had she been too obvious? Not obvious enough?

“I don’t want tonight to end either,” he said eventually. “Would you like to stay the night? Here? With me? I mean, actually with me.” There was hope in his voice, but he looked so sweetly unsure, as if he couldn’t quite dare to hope that this evening was going in the direction he had hoped for.

Belle nodded eagerly. “I would love to stay,” she said. “I, erm, I may have brought my toothbrush with me.”

Gold laughed, and he pulled her in close for another kiss. There was nothing reserved in this kiss. It was clear that he wasn’t holding back at all. He wanted this just as much as she did, he just hadn’t had any real idea how to go about initiating it. Belle pressed in closer, scrabbling into his lap so that she could snuggle closer into his chest. Now that she was here, in this position, and she could feel the heat flooding through her veins and pooling between her thighs, she realised just how long it had been since she had last been this intimate with another person. She wondered how long it would have been for Gold. If she had been the first woman he’d dated throughout his afterlife, then she doubted that he would have gone any further with anyone, especially not if his unsureness around this encounter was anything to go by.

She let him up for air and smiled at his dumbstruck expression for a moment before diving back in. She wanted to show him just how much she wanted this. She didn’t want him to have any doubts or second guess himself at all. It had taken them long enough to start dating in the first place, and now that she was so close to what she wanted and what she needed, she wasn’t going to let awkwardness or old-fashioned formalities get in the way.

Shifting in his lap, she could feel his erection beginning to stir, and he broke away.

“Should we go upstairs?” he suggested.

Belle nodded, sliding off his lap and holding out a hand to pull him up off the sofa. The dirty dishes could wait, but she grabbed the wine bottle and Gold brought the glasses, following her up the stairs then showing her into his bedroom.

It was a beautiful room, all expensive drapes and dark wood, and she certainly could not say that the décor did not suit his usual mode of dress and sardonic personality, but all the same, he didn’t look all that at home in it right now, hovering in the doorway as she looked around.

“Are you all right?” she asked, going over and slipping her arms around his middle. Gold nodded.

“I’m just… I suppose I’m just a little nervous, that’s all.” He sighed, resting his forehead against hers in a little nudge of intimacy and trust that made Belle’s heart melt for him afresh. “It’s been a very long time since I’ve done this, Belle, and I really don’t want to let you down.”

“I’m sure that you won’t. I just want to be with you. That’s all I want. I don’t want the moon and the stars. I just want you, Alistair.”

“Then you shall have me, Belle.”

He kissed her again, walking her backwards slowly until she hit the foot of the bed and she kicked her shoes off, getting onto the bed and shuffling up until she could lay back against the pillows, beckoning him in closer to her. He followed with a smile, capturing her lips again as she pulled him down against the bedcovers with her, sinking into the plush cushions.

“I’m glad you’re not wearing your usual suit today,” Belle said, her fingers coming to the buttons of his shirt and beginning to slip each one through its hole. “It would have taken years to get you out of all your layers.”

Gold chuckled and sat up to let her push the shirt from his shoulders, her hands mapping his slim chest. There was a self-consciousness in his expression that Belle just wanted to kiss away, and she twisted to show the zipper of her dress.

“Would you do the honours?”

“Most certainly.”

He needed help with her bra fastening, but once Belle was topless as well, grabbing his hands and pushing her breasts up into his palms, he seemed to gain in confidence, and the rest of their clothes were discarded into the heap on the floor in short order afterwards.

“I brought condoms,” Belle said, punctuating her words with kisses. “I didn’t know whether we’d need them. Do things like that affect us?”

Gold shook his head. “No, we don’t need them. Unless you want to use one, of course. I don’t mind.”

“No, I’m all right. I just wanted to check. I’m glad we don’t need one.” She eyed his cock, standing to eager attention, and Belle could feel the heat rising between her legs as she welcomed him between her thighs.

“Oh Belle…” Gold’s voice was practically reverent as he smoothed her tousled curls out of her face, resting his forehead against hers. “Belle, sweetheart…”

“Yes,” Belle breathed. “Come on inside, Alistair. I want you inside me.” She was so hot, so desperate to be touched and to release the tension that was thrumming through her veins, and she groaned with anticipation as Gold nodded, reaching down to line up with her entrance and pressing into her slowly. His movements were unsure, and Belle nudged his thigh with her foot to get him to go a little deeper.

“You won’t hurt me, you know,” she said. “You can go a little harder.”

Gold nodded. “I know. I just want to savour the moment.”

Belle kissed him then, her tongue exploring his mouth and tasting every inch, and finally he began to thrust and give her the wonderful friction that she needed. He felt so good inside, just what she wanted, and she brought her legs around his back to bring him in closer, as close as she could get him.

“Belle, I can’t last, I can’t hold it…”

“Then don’t.”

She felt the rush of heat inside her as he came, his face buried in her shoulder and her name a whisper on his lips, and Belle closed her eyes with a smile. She hadn’t come, but she wouldn’t have traded this moment of togetherness for the world.

“Are you all right?” Gold asked, pulling out and rolling onto his side as he began to soften. He brought one hand to her breast, rubbing a thumb over her nipple.

“I’m perfect.”

“Even though you didn’t…”

“You made me feel good, Alistair, that’s all that matters.” She didn’t ever want him to stop touching her, or to move from his arms. He trailed his hands down from her breasts to cup her bottom, kneading her ass cheeks a little, and Belle pressed in close against him.

“Just hold me, Alistair.”

“Oh Belle, sweetheart, I’ll never let you go.”

They stayed cuddled close in the moonlight, exchanging soft kisses and caresses until Belle felt sleep overtake her, still smiling at the moment they had shared; the first of hopefully many more to come.

#rumbelle fic #rumbelle #Belle French #Mr Gold #Fic: What Comes After

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thegoopies · 6 years

Text

Scottish Wake Up Call

Rafe has you helping him in Scotland at St. Dismas Cathedral, but one night you take a load off in a nearby town and Rafe is not pleased with you, at first. Then cue his sudden realization he has while picking your drunk self up.

Words: 2752

A/N: First request! and by anonymous. This dialogue drabble (lmao it’s a little long for a drabble, I got carried away) is 33. “I cannot guarantee that I’m not drunk.” Also, even though I wrote these prompts I still had trouble writing this one for some reason, so I’m sorry if some parts don’t feel like they smoothly fit.

P.S. here’s the link to the dialogue list: https://thegoopies.tumblr.com/post/172740605658/112-dialogue-prompts-requests-open-for-uncharted

Life after Sam’s death was never the same. For so long your wagon had been hitched to the Drake brothers’, but it dissolved almost as quickly as it all started. After Nate had finally called it quits in Scotland and working with Rafe, things felt a tad bit apathetic. You had lost your lust for the treasure and the chase it gave. You weren’t sitting on the edge of your seat in life anymore, instead, you had a painful reminder to think about every day. But you couldn’t leave. How were you supposed to return to a normal life without your crazy boys constantly leading you into trouble? Without the threat of jail time or a bullet in the back? You decided biding your time with Rafe was a good enough option seeing as it felt the closest to old times as your life could get now. Even though he drove you crazy and he you, he was something you clung to, even if you used him to lash out against due to your pain, it was still something.

And speaking of that something, today had been a particularly rough one. With no leads, only dead ends being searched, and the overwhelming feeling to throw yourself off the cliffside that St. Dismas rested on, you and Rafe had taken it out on each other. Sure, you were no stranger to the occasional yelling match when dealing with this lifestyle, but it seemed to never end today. And was it just you or were you losing your voice over it? None the matter, as you had stomped off the sight, an irate Adler screaming after you to come back, you decided to blow off a little steam once you spotted his Jeep parked on the muddy ground a little ways away from the cathedral.

So here you were, stolen car parked in the lot of a hole in the wall pub while dodging constant phone calls from your soon-to-be-murderer/business partner. Things were going great.

“I have halfa mind to toss that stupid shit in my beer, girl if that means it’ll stop rattlin’ around like that.” Shaken out of your stupor (a.k.a you are staring at your phone screen and realizing you were digging your own grave as Rafe called again and again), you looked at the man sitting beside you at the bar. You could tell he was no nonsense and of the generation that really hated technology for some reason, as if it wasn’t the greatest thing since sliced bread. You realized leaving it on the bar top wasn’t the best idea, so you grabbed it and slipped it into your jeans back pocket.

“Sorry.” You said quietly, a little embarrassed. You took a swig of your beer to try and not seem awkward as he continued staring. You ran your tongue against your teeth after you swallowed, the beer was very different from American ales, tasting more like grass and having a higher alcohol content that you knew would soon have you spinning.

“Are you with the Americans up the hill at St. Dismas?” He asked, eyes boring into you as if he was reading your mind. What a feeling.

“How’d you know?” You asked, raising the beer to your lips again. It was starting to lose the dirt flavor as the alcohol started to hit you, making everything taste dull. He made a snort/huff combo as if the answer was obvious.

“It’s easy to tell when ya on yer third beer and wobbling like that.” There was something about his frankness that made you laugh. Compared to Rafe this guy was a ray of sunshine.

“Well, nice to meet you. I’m the American who can’t handle her European beers and you are?” You held out your hand loosely, feeling at ease joking around with him. He met your hand with a firm grip, pumping his calloused palm three times.

“Walter Caird.” He said gruffly while returning his hand back to cradling his beer.

“Believe it or not, I’m starting to think you’re the only friend I’ll make here in Scotland.” You said with a smile and a rueful thought about Rafe, the beer definitely lowering a few inhibitions, like a filter that kept you out of trouble. In reply he gave you a look that should have set you on fire right where you sat.

“Right.” You said, turning away from him. Very no nonsense indeed.

It was only about two hours later when you checked your phone again. You had gotten swept up in your people watching and small talk as more and more locals filled the pub, stopping in after their work day to shout loudly as they noticed their friends were already there even though they had probably seen them yesterday. And the day before that, and so on. But you still had your pal Walter sitting next to you, quietly drinking and partaking in conversation when a neighbor showed up to clap him on the shoulder and ask about his day. It was nice. He at least didn’t yell at you like Rafe, you’d take his silent judgement any day.

Holding your phone in hand, you noticed it was a little harder to focus on the screen, the small print taking a lot more work to process as your vision swam. Feeling the pulsing urge to pee again, you decided to finally get up and go to the bathroom, knowing full that well that once you opened the floodgates you’d be peeing every five minutes, but oh well. You stumbled a little hopping off the bar stool as everything seemed to tilt just a little bit. You gripped the bar top until your knuckles turned white and you stared at Walter silently as you tried to gather yourself.

“Well?” He asked.

“Can you tell I’m drunk?” You asked. Standing made you feel like throwing up, you regretted this.

“Very much so.” Walter didn’t even bother to continue looking at you as he went back to drinking. Staring straight ahead.

“Pfft.” You said under your breath and waved your hand at him before taking off on your journey. The small building was packed, people walking to their tables and booths, waitresses buzzing around, people milling about, blocking your access to the bathroom. It was all a little too much as you not-so-politely pushed through the crowd, earning some stares then being forgotten about as they shrugged it off and continued their conversations. Finally reaching the women’s bathroom you almost slammed into the door in your need. Once you finally opened it though, it seemed just a little bit too heavy, you realized relief was not going to happen soon. The line was cramped into the small room, ladies chatting quickly in their thick accents, overwhelming you as they leaned against the walls and waited. Exerting little energy over the fact that their bladders were about to burst from the all that they had drank.

You felt like screaming. Finding an open space to stand in, you leaned against the cinder block wall and focused on the pale pink color it was sloppily painted in. Sharpie covered the walls, full of young girls (and some guys’ penmanship, you noticed) handwriting about being there and falling in love or something. Everything felt a little too sticky due to poor ventilation in the tiny, damp room, but you couldn’t find an iota to care. Your bladder was shouting and you were listening. Suddenly, you were distracted by your phone vibrating in your pocket and you remembered. Rafe. You pulled your phone out of your pocket and stared at the screen for a couple of seconds trying to decipher the blob that you were staring at, you jostled with the group as more girls entered the room and tried to fit in, but you never took your eyes away.

“You alright?” The girl standing to your left asked, staring at you as if there was something incredibly wrong.

“What does this say?” You asked a little too loudly while shoving your phone in her face. She jerked her head back a little and blinked to combat the sudden brightness.

“Rafe Adler.” She said, not at all blindsided by your actions.

“Oh boy.” You squeaked.

“Boyfriend?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. You just stared at her with a dumbstruck expression.

“Here, I got it.” And before you could do anything she had taken your phone out of your hand and answered the call. The first thing she did was scrunch her face in reaction to what Rafe was saying, they probably weren’t great things.

“Calm down, mate.” You kept staring, what were you supposed to do? How could you even do anything in your dizzy, cotton mouth state? “Your girl’s right here with me.” You heard a pause on his end, then muted noise. He was probably demanding who she was.

“Me? I’m a friend.” She rolled her eyes. “Fine, here she is.” She handed the phone back to you and you took it in shaky hands. “Good luck with that one.” She said before turning away from you and back to her friends. The line started moving, but you didn’t notice. Hesitantly you put the phone up to your ear.

“So, where’s my girlfriend at?” Rafe asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm, but you didn’t catch it. You just felt your blood running cold through your body.

“Rafe.” You said quietly.

“Yes?” You blanked, then decided to say the stupidest thing you had ever said to him in your entire life.

“I really have to pee.” You heard him laugh, it was like a bark, sudden and loud and definitely not what you were expecting.

“Where are you?” He asked.

“In the bathroom.”

“No,” you could feel him rubbing at his face through the phone. “Where did you drive MY Jeep to?”

“Oh.” You were a bit toned down as you talked, feeling a little overwhelmed you zoned out, staring at the floor and blinking. Where were you again?

“Y/n?” You focused back on the conversation at hand.

“I drove into town and then I just kinda stopped at the first little place I saw.” You said. “But don’t worry I can drive the car back, you really don’t have to do anything. It’ll be like I never took it.” You rambled.

“No, it’s fine. Stay there, I don’t need your drunk ass crippling yourself and my Jeep.” It’s fine? Fine? You had never once heard anything like that come from Rafe before. Why the sudden act of charity?

“Oh,” you repeated. “I guess I can do that.” He chuckled, his breath making the phone quality crackle a little. He was enjoying this more naïve side of you. The one that wasn’t constantly breathing down his neck. “But it’s not because I’m drunk, I swear.”

“Yeah?” You paused, pursing your lips in concentration. Rafe finding you drunk really wasn’t the best thing, but you were way past the point of trying to lie about it.

“Well…I cannot guarantee that I’m not drunk.”

“I know. I’ll be there soon.” You stayed on the line, losing focus and standing in silence as you tried to wrap your mind around the situation. He sighed on his end.

“Just hang up and piss, alright?”

“Yes sir.”

Once you had peed, you wandered back into the bar. Unfortunately, someone had taken your stool, so you tried your best to stay propped up against the back wall, falling into the crowd and feeling that overwhelming feeling again like you were going to be swallowed up by it. Wave after wave of people passed by you, accidentally bumping into you, but ignoring your arms scrambling for a secure spot to hold yourself with.

Soon though, you heard your name mingle with the noise of the crowd. Someone was calling out for you. Pushing off from the wall you stumbled your way forward, catching your footing and trying to maintain a normal walking pace. While being drunk was fun, you hated acting like it. You knew how embarrassing you could get, and it made you cringe the next morning.

“Y/n.” You spun around to find Rafe, looking a lot calmer than you expected. In fact, he had a smirk on his face rather than the usual frown you had seen lately. Oh god, he was going to mock you to no end about this.

“Hi.” You said, eyes wide and ears ready to hear some yelling.

“C’mon, let’s go.” He wrapped an arm around your back, his hand gripping onto the back of your left arm as he led you out of the pub. You stumbled slightly at his fast pace, but every time he caught you, easing you back into his arm. Leading you outside you shivered in the cold; did you have your jacket? You couldn’t remember, and you really didn’t care as Rafe tucked you into his side more to block the cold. He felt so warm and you relished in it, snuggling into him slightly. You glanced at him from your peripheral, gauging his reaction. He didn’t, so you took it as a good sign.

Suddenly, though, you were on the ground, gravel biting into your arms as you tried to brace yourself. How graceful. Above you you heard Rafe laugh before he was reaching out to you. Groaning you grabbed his hand and he hauled you up. He held you in front of him, large hands gripping your cold arms and a huge smile on his face. You couldn’t stop your own smile and incredulous laugh.

“The first time I see you smile in months and it’s because I ate ass.” You say, laughing a little still. He rolled his eyes at you, but chuckled. You bit your lip, sucking it between your teeth. “I guess it proves that you still hate me though.” You added, what was that about keeping your filter while sober? He scoffed, rolling his eyes again.

“Who said I hated you?”

“I think you did last week when you were yelling at me about not find“

“Okay, okay.” He said, cutting you off. “I know I’m a dick, but I don’t hate you.” You pursed your lips again, super deep thought mode activated. He glanced down at your lips. “You’re basically my best friend at this point based on how much time we spend together.”

“Forced to spend together.” You chimed in, he frowned.

“Hey, you could leave at any time you want. You know that.” It was your turn to roll your eyes at him.

“Sure, like you wouldn’t hunt me down if I did. You need me.” You said cockily. “Without me, you’d be helpless, who else can handle you as their business partner.”

He cocked an eyebrow and smirked.

“Sure, I need you.” Hearing the words come from his mouth silenced you. It was sobering, kinda, of course. Your intoxicated brain switched the wires a little as you interpreted what he said.

“You do?” You whispered, eyes wide again and giving him an innocent look that hit him right in the gut. He had never felt that before, especially with you. He swallowed thickly, then licked his dry lips. Slowly, he brought his hand up to your face and brushed a stray strand of hair that had fallen on your face. He tucked it behind your ear, but that simple movement made your whole world stop. You glanced at his hand as he then rested it against your neck, cupping gently.

“I think I do.” He said before pulling you in for a kiss. His lips were a little chapped from the cold weather, but other than that you only felt heat. The kiss was warm and slow, and when he pulled you against him it felt like a flush spread from deep down in your stomach. You knew your cheeks were already red, but you didn’t care. You moved your hands to his hair, twisting the dark strands between your fingers, pulling gently. You moaned a little when his hands suddenly found your ass, gripping tightly.

He was the first one to pull away, a light gasp coming from him as he caught his breath. His eyes were dark and devouring you. You stared up at him, breathless and completely blown away with your lips a little puffy from the kiss. He liked the look of your eyes looking up at him in wonder rather than staring daggers at him.

“Yeah, I need you.” He repeated.

#uncharted fanfiction #rafe adler x reader #rafe adler #uncharted #uncharted4 #uncharted4 fanfiction #nathan drake #samuel drake #drake brothers x reader #thegoopiespresents #imma use this tag to classify stuff i write #womp womp

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whatliesabove-blog1 · 6 years

Text

small, quiet room

Chapter fourteen | ao3

Hopper spends his time brooding around the cabin as soon as Joyce drops the news on him.

After the initial revelation, he didn't know what to do with himself; he left the precinct, gruffly telling Flo he's taking a few days off before speeding home. Maybe taking a few days off was a bit rash, but he’s never been informed of a secret child before either, so what the fuck does he know?

He needs time. To himself, to stop. He may not be able to make time stop, but he can arrange to spend some time by himself. El's suspicion about his suggestion she spend a night or two at the Wheeler's is overpowered by the pure excitement over getting to have a sleepover, and he’s in the clear.

He calls Karen ahead of time and asks if it'd be okay, at least had the presence of mind to do that much, and though she's understandably confused, she thankfully seems to get the picture. He doesn't want to talk about it, and she doesn't ask. He just needs El out of the cabin and away from him, because he knows he isn't going to be the best of company.

In his dazed state he still manages to dish out some rules: no sleeping in the kid's room, and the rest of their little friends are going to be there too. It’ll be her first slumber party and she’s over the moon.

With her gone, he immediately goes for the fridge and pulls out a beer. He’s about to head back into the living room when he spins around again and grabs a second. The first will go down like water, he knows, and he’s just saving himself the time.

Two beers turns into three, three into four, and the cycle continues until he’s out of beer. He’s not smashed, but he’s drunk enough to know he can’t go buy some more from the store.

In the alcohol’s absence, he’s forced to drink water. Oddly enough, it goes down with more of a struggle than the beer.

Nearly twenty four hours later, a whole day between Joyce’s truth bomb and his current state, he still hasn't gone out to get more beer. It’s mostly because he doesn't want to leave the cabin, but the fact that he’s still slumped on the floor with his back against the couch also has something to do with it.

He's gone through an entire array of feelings in the past day. Anger. Confusion. Frustration. Sadness. Shock. All of them intertwine with each other, blend into one giant mess of emotions he doesn't know how to navigate.

A kid.

He and Joyce have a kid. Not just a kid, but a teenager. He has a fucking teenager.

And not just any teenager, but one he already knows. One he's watched grow and mature over the past two years. Jonathan. Joyce's boy, the one who stood up to him because he wanted to help find his little brother in the place of his mother. Only he isn't just Joyce's boy, he's his too.

His head is spinning.

He almost wishes it wasn’t Jonathan. Not because there’s something wrong with the kid, but because it’s so fucking weird. It’s jarring, completely surreal, and maybe if it was some random kid he’s never met before it’d be easier. A kid who doesn’t have an opinion of him already.

Jonathan doesn’t hate him, he’s at least fairly certain of that, but he’s under no impression that he’s on his top five people list either. He doesn’t have to be, he supposes, but knowing where he stands would be nice.

Hopper squeezes his eyes shut, pinches at the bridge of his nose until the dizziness passes. He should eat something, can’t actually remember the last time he shoved something other than drinks down his throat, but he doesn't have the energy to make it. Or microwave it, really, because hell if he'd actually cook something right now.

Jesus Christ.

Maybe he's stupid for not figuring it out sooner. Now that he knows, knows Jonathan's his son, he can see it. The teen looks like him in ways he doesn't look like Joyce or Lonnie, in ways that, to the best of Hopper’s knowledge, he never did. But until almost two years ago, he'd only seen the kid a handful of times.

The first time he saw him was when he was, what, eight years old?

He wonders if Jonathan looked like him as a small child. Maybe he did, and maybe if he'd run into Joyce earlier it would've been more obvious.

Maybe it would’ve jumped right out to him, he would’ve confronted Joyce, and the last fifteen or so years of his life would’ve panned out differently. Or maybe it wouldn't have. Maybe it would've just been another big mess of its own.

Hopper knows when it happened.

It was at Karen's post-graduation party, the night the two of them got sentimental and a little drunk and slept together in the back of his father's car. They were close enough to the house party to hear the music floating through the air and inebriated yells from their classmates, but far enough so that none of them even thought to wander to where he'd parked.

He doesn’t remember much from graduation but he remembers that night clearly, every moment of it. From the conversations they'd had in that car, to the first lingering glance and the way he'd leaned into her. She didn't tell him to stop, just sank into his chest, grabbed onto his hair and pulled him closer. It spiraled from there, the two of them lost in a haze of strewn clothing, messy kisses and sweaty bodies.

That night in the backseat wasn't the first time they'd slept together, but it is the only time that makes any sense for the conception.

The first time was under the bleachers in the start of junior year. It'd started as a dare he thought Joyce would be too chicken to follow through on—to kiss him. He said it as a joke, but he should've known better than to underestimate just how dedicated, and competitive, she was. She'd raised a cocky eyebrow and grabbed his face. The kiss turned into what was their first time, and looking back he can only laugh at how fitting it seems that it was under those damn bleachers.

The second time was after junior prom, after enough spiked punch to lower their inhibitions, to allow them to act on their shared desires, but not enough to render them incapable of remembering their actions.

“I know exactly what I’m doing, Hop,” Joyce had told him with dark eyes after he tried to slow it down, after he made the mistake of telling her you’re drunk, Joyce.

And maybe she did know exactly what she was doing. Hell, maybe she wasn’t drunk at all.

Who knows anymore.

But no, despite their reckless actions, neither of those would make sense. Joyce would've been pregnant senior year if he’d knocked her up either time, and she wasn’t.

So, Karen's graduation party is where it happened. They hadn't used anything and he curses inwardly, his head slamming against the couch cushion. They were too preoccupied with anything and everything else in that moment.

Hopper lets out a low groan, and then, despite himself, laughs. There's nothing he can do about it now, so grumbling over not using a condom seventeen years ago won't do him any good.

Doesn't mean he won't sulk, though.

And he thinks he has every right to sulk, thank you very much. He's never been this angry at Joyce, not ever, not even when she'd asked him to one of the dances sophomore year and then never showed. She never did tell him why, only that something had come up and she was sorry, but he felt like an idiot standing outside the school (because she insisted he not pick her up; it wasn't a date), dressed in a monkey suit with a stupid bouquet of flowers he'd picked up on a whim.

But now... now he's angry.

Seventeen years. She's known that he has another child, their child, for seventeen years and did nothing. Didn't tell him, not so much as a hint. He hates riddles but he would've preferred some awkward clues that led him to the realization on his own over... well, this.

Finishing off the soda in his hand, the second to last can he finds in the back of the fridge—he really needs to do some grocery shopping—he slumps down a bit more and leans his head back, eyes facing the ceiling.

"Fuck," he mutters to himself.

Hopper forces his eyes closed and tries to take a few calming breaths, but he feels nothing even resembling calm. Not even a semblance of calm anywhere in his body.

He's on edge, his heart racing and his mind whirling with thought after thought, each more confusing than the last.

He wants to know why. He wants to know if she ever planned on telling him, though he's certain he already knows the answer. On her deathbed, maybe, but before that seems doubtful.

He wants to know what the fuck he's supposed to do now.

It's not everyday you wake up with a teenager. With El it was different; it was a slow burn and months of searching for her out in those damn woods. He knew all along that he had the cabin, that if he could just get her to come out that he'd take her here to keep her safe.

He knew that; it was his decision from the start, and he had time to come to it.

This? No, this is nothing at all like El. This is like being doused in ice water when you least expect it. You stand there, frozen, eyes screwed so tightly you think they might push back into your skull. They don’t, but you wish maybe they would. You’re turned to stone, not knowing what to do. You could move, but you're in such shock that your body shuts down a little and refuses to function at all.

Except he can move. He has function enough to pull himself to his feet, stumble into the kitchen, and grab the final soda.

Jonathan.

Hopper wonders if she gave any thought to what he'd have wanted to name the baby. He doesn't dislike the name, and he doesn't actually have any better ones in mind, but he's curious. He imagines a young Joyce lying in a hospital bed, sweat peppering her skin and her hair, cradling a tiny bundle of blue in her arms.

He groans, digs the heel of his hand into his eyes. He regrets the thought as soon as it pops into his mind, but then it won't go away. Joyce, exactly as he remembers her all those years ago, but with a baby clutched tightly against her chest. His baby, their baby.

Fuck.

Swallowing half of the can in two quick gulps, he heaves out a sigh. The soda isn’t doing a damn thing to help, but he still doesn’t want to go to the damn store. There are people in the store and he doesn’t want to deal with people.

Instead, he goes for the next best thing. Unscrewing the cap from the bottle of pills on the coffee table, he pops two or three into his mouth and swallows.

He lost his little girl, his precious Sara, and he was sure he'd never have another kid. It's too painful, and if he's the reason she got sick in the first place, then he wouldn't dare risk that with another child. But he does have another; he's had another kid right under his nose this entire time.

One that isn't sick.

He doesn't allow himself to think about what that means about his role in Sara's death. Jonathan isn't sick, Jonathan is his. Sara got sick, Sara's also his. One healthy, one sick. The room begins to spin and he shakes his head, shakes away every thought about Sara. Now's not the time and unless he wants to drown himself in that entire bottle of pills, just as he did after her death, he can't even think about the correlation right now.

He missed out on all of the important years with Jonathan, and hell, he's not even sure if he'll be there for any of the rest. Not in any capacity that's more than it is right now. He doesn't know what the kid wants, and he sure as hell doesn't know what he wants either.

Coughing a little, he sits up straighter, peels his eyes open.

He blames Joyce for hiding this from him, for keeping such a huge fucking secret from him for so long, but as he wallows in his self-pity and stupid soda and pills, he tries desperately to imagine what it would have been like if she had told him.

He'd have been freaked out. He was just eighteen, she was seventeen, and he would've been in a foreign country when she found out. If she had told him when he returned, showed up on his doorstep with a baby, he might've passed out.

Hopper would like to think he'd have handled it well from the start, but he knows what he was like. He knows his mouth, and he’s not proud of the quip about how do we even know it's mine he no doubt would’ve made. Joyce would've gotten upset and hated him and he would've started off by fucking it all up.

That's not a reason to not tell him, though, and he's positive he would've come around. Once the shock wore off, he would've been there. Sure, they were both young as hell, and sure, he didn't plan on having a kid while still in his teens, but they would've made it work.

Joyce was his best friend and he wouldn't have turned her, or their kid, away. He's half the reason she even got pregnant, so there's no way he would have made her deal with it alone. He wouldn't have been the best father ever, not back then, but he would've tried.

Downing the last of the can, he decides that's what bothers him the most.

The lying and betrayal aside, he's pissed that she didn't feel it important enough to tell him, to let him be a father. Because he wouldn't have been good enough? Because Lonnie was a better choice? Jonathan grew up watching that rat bastard abuse his mother, punch her and toss her around like trash. The man he believed to be his father was shit to him and Will, too, if all the reports from before he came to Hawkins are true.

He’s inclined to believe them over the half-assed write-ups that document nothing but Joyce trying to cover for that jackass.

His fists ball at his sides. That boy could've grown up in a house with two parents who, while dysfunctional and a little out-of-whack at times, would've been a hell of a lot better and not at all abusive.

Shaking his head, he forces it all away. He can't do this anymore, can't imagine all of these what-ifs in his mind when it means fuck all. Joyce still lied, Jonathan's still his almost-adult son, and he still missed seventeen years of his life.

With a grunt he stands, tosses the can into the trash where it clinks off of the rest of the pile, and moves into his bedroom. Collapsing onto the bed, he shoves his face into the pillow with a silent prayer that he falls into a dreamless sleep.

#jopper #joyce byers #jim hopper #joyce x hopper #time to get into hop's head!

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madisonsclarks · 7 years

Text

Time

Inspired by a prompt from @scullbob-mulpants: “In an ambiguous world where Bob no longer exists, Hopper - tentatively and trying to be casual - asks Joyce out for dinner.”

This is almost 4,500 words of pre-season 2 Jopper fluff. There’ll probably be a second part with another 5,000 words of Jopper fluff. I have no regrets. I live in this dumpster now.

***

It’s like clockwork.

Or at least it’s become a pattern, Joyce thinks, looking up from the peanut butter jars she’s been shoving onto the shelf from the cardboard box that sits, torn open, at her feet. She glances at the clock and the door in turn, confirms her suspicions, allows herself a tiny smile feels as natural as breathing.

The bells on the door jingle, proclaiming a kind of sharp announcement through Melvald’s General Store. Usually, the sound sets off faint alarms in the back of her head. A customer. Questions to be answered. Problems to solve. Transactions to ring through. This one – this ringing of the bells – is different. It has been different every Wednesday at noon for a month now, and she thinks it’ll probably continue to be every Wednesday in the future, too. At least if the current pattern keeps going.

She rises to her feet, brushes off the thin layer of dust that collected on her pants while she was kneeling. It doesn’t evacuate the soil-brown material completely, probably because it never really left. No matter how many times she washes these pants, dust and grime cling to them like cigarette smoke.

Which was exactly why he was here, if today followed the cycle. Cigarette smoke.

“Hey, Hop,” she says, offering him a genuine smile, free of the customer service shallowness that often lurks on her lips after a long day or a sleepless night. She could call him Jim, probably. They’re close enough for that now, probably, after all the levels of hell they’ve walked through together. They’re close enough for that now, probably, given the way he showed up – unannounced – on her front porch with a hammer and nails in his hands, to help her fix the hole in her wall. They’re close enough for that now, probably, because every Wednesday at noon he comes in to Melvald’s and buys a pack of Camels and talks with her for longer than a cashier transaction would merit, even though they both know cigarettes are cheaper at the Mobil station and it’s less than a block from his work.

Probably.

But probably isn’t good enough, and her stomach somersaults when she thinks about overstepping some invisible boundary he’s drawn between the first name in his past and the last name in his present.

He greets her in kind, takes his hat off and places it on the counter. It’s the first time since he’s started this ritual that she’s seen him without his blue police jacket. But today feels like the first day of spring – it takes until mid-April in Indiana, but when the warm weather arrives, it’s like a current of electricity sparks across all of Hawkins. Everything that fell out of place during the cold winter months snaps back in again. She even saw Will smile this morning when he realized he didn’t need a jacket for his ride to school: a ray of light she attributes to this, the first warm day.

“So,” he says as she slides behind the counter, turns her back to him to get the pack she knows he’s looking for. “How is everything?”

There’s no one else in the store, but they’re used to talking circles around the fallout from the events of last November. They’ve gotten good at saying everything without saying anything at all, at hiding the truth in plain sight. It’s almost a code they’ve developed without meaning to, the way they talk to each other now.

“Good,” she says, turning to face him. She looks up at him as she places the Camels down on the scuffed glass counter with a soft thunk, sees him raise an eyebrow as if evaluating her statement for validity. He knows she’s good at putting on a show in public, at stitching together her frayed edges for long enough to smile and tell Hawkins to have a nice day. But she can be frayed around him, and he doesn’t have to hide his demons from her, and there’s something comforting to both of them in that.

“Yeah?” he asks, and she knows she isn’t imagining the warmth in his tone.

“Yeah,” she insists, smiling when she thinks of Will’s smile, the way his blue eyes sparkled when he opened the front door. “Will was happy this morning. Really happy. Those nightmares he’d been having, he told me he didn’t have one last night. And I wasn’t sure if he’d ever-“

She stops before the tears start. But this time, unlike so many times before, they’re tears of relief, of a weight being lifted, of feeling free in a way she hasn’t since she walked up the stairs to her son’s room and found it empty. Joyce swallows hard, willing the lump in her throat to flatten itself, masks deeper emotions with a smile that wobbles, trembling, on her mouth. It must be contagious, because when she looks up, she sees his lips quirk in a similar expression.

The boys like him. That much, she knows. Jonathan accepted his presence without question and eventually with enthusiasm during the dozen or so times they had him over for dinner during the winter. Will’s attitude toward the police chief was half awe, half gratitude, and wholly admiring; he even managed to ensnare Jim in one of his board games, though much to Will’s displeasure he’d had to leave before they could finish it.

“That’s great,” Jim says, looking at her with something like pride even though it’s Will who’s had the breakthrough. “That’s progress, Joyce. It takes time.”

He would know better than most, the time that progress takes. They’re haunted by different ghosts, he and Will, but they’re the same species, the same type of thing that lurks over their shoulders and hides in the shadows to come out and prey on them when they’re finally, at long last, feeling better.

Sometimes she wishes Will would talk to Jim. Well, she wishes Will would talk to anyone: the counselor she tried to send him to, his friends, his brother, her. But what happened in the Upside Down is a locked box inside his chest, and no matter how she tries to pose questions or help him, she can’t seem to find the key.

It takes time, she reminds herself, suddenly overwhelmingly grateful for the presence of the man standing in front of her.

She feels the words bubbling up inside her, common sense kicking in too late to push them back down her throat. Later she’ll blame it on the weather, on the good mood that seems to cover the whole city like a fog, that inhaling too much spring air intoxicated her somehow, lowered her inhibitions. But there, standing behind the counter with Jim smiling at her, she asks a question she hadn’t been bold enough to ask before.

“My lunch break is in fifteen minutes. Do you want to go somewhere?”

As soon as the words fly out, she clamps her mouth shut as if in fear that there are more that will spew out like vomit, that her tongue isn’t quite done embarrassing her yet.

Stupid. He has to get back to the station. Why the hell would you ask him that? What if he already ate? What do you think he’s going to do, drop all of his responsibilities to…and now you made it awkward, and he’s not going to want to keep coming to see you, and this is the last time he’ll ever visit you on a Wednesday to buy cigarettes.

And she doesn’t catch the way he blinks, rapidly, as though the simple act of hearing her question has winded him. She doesn’t catch the redness that creeps across his cheeks, so preoccupied is she with the blush forming on her own. She’s so caught up in her instant, overwhelming regret that she almost misses his response.

“There’s nothing going on at the station,” he says. “Sounds good to me. How long is your break?”

She looks at him in shock and awe, only now remembering that she’s brought her lunch from home and can’t afford to waste the sandwich she packed this morning.

“Shit,” she breathes. “It’s a half-hour but I…I brought something from home. I forgot, but it’ll go bad if I don’t eat it today, and I can’t-“

He looks at her knowingly, as though he can see thousands of gears in her head that have whirred into overdrive, overheating, overcompensating. As though he can see her heart thrumming in her chest, beating harder and faster with every second.

“Joyce,” he says, his blue eyes comforting, calming. “I don’t care if we go anywhere. What works for you, works for me.”

Her lips are forming a smile before she realizes her expression is changing, and the fists that had closed themselves around her lungs start to relinquish their grip. Maybe she hasn’t ruined everything, after all.

“Okay,” she says, two syllables of a sigh of relief.

She moves her hands to rest on top of the counter, and they land on the plastic-wrapped package she has yet to ring up. Her smile turns into a kind of mystified laugh, and she wonders how the hell they both seemed to forget the reason he came here in the first place.

Unless, something in the back of her head whispers, that’s not really why he’s here.

She’s never asked him. His ritual is something she’s accepted without question, largely because she worries prying too far into the reasoning behind its existence will destroy it completely. There are mysteries in her life that she needs answered, but Jim Hopper showing up at her work every Wednesday isn’t one of them.

They both look down at the pack of cigarettes in her hand, and she wonders if they’re thinking the same thing.

***

There’s a lonely wooden park bench a few blocks from the store, on the border between downtown Hawkins and the woods. It’s where Joyce goes when she needs peace, where she goes to smoke and slow down her thoughts during the fifteen minutes she’s allotted outside her lunch break on a 12-hour day.

It’s where she goes when she needs to be by herself, just for a few minutes, since that’s often all she has there before she needs to turn around and head back to work. But it’s calming, looking at the contrast between the greenness of the forest and the stumbling bustle of the sleepy city. It’s free of judgmental, pitying stares. And most importantly, it’s quiet.

She has never taken another person there, largely because there’s no one else to share the space with. Jonathan and Will visit her at work sometimes, but rarely when she has a break to spare – and if she does, she’ll walk around town with them, do something more interesting than sit on the outskirts of Hawkins and look at the trees and the fallen leaves, still lying on the ground though fall is long gone.

For that reason it feels almost personal, private. Joyce has never seen anyone else there, and has slowly come to believe she’s the only person in Hawkins who knows of its existence.

It’s there – that park bench – she takes Jim for her lunch break.

There are, of course, benches in the city. There are places that would have been less of a walk. But in the city, they can’t say anything. They’d have to stick to pleasantries – his work, her work, “safe” topics regarding her family – and it would be torture to be with the person she can be open around and close a huge part of her life away.

He picked something up from the sandwich shop across the street from Melvald’s, unwraps it while he talks.

“This is nice,” he says, looking across the road, where trees span for miles. “I didn’t know this was over here.”

She knows he’s enjoying being away from everything, just like she is. There’s a reason Jim Hopper lives in a trailer at the edge of town, just like there’s a reason she stumbled on the bench in the first place.

“I found it on my break, a few months ago. Right after…everything. I went for a walk, and it was here,” she says, remembering that first shift back at the store, the overpowering need to go somewhere else, to be by herself. Spending those fifteen minutes in the tiny break room or in the middle of downtown made everything seem like it was shrinking around her, closing her in, and by the time she left her hands were shaking. “I guess I needed some quiet.”

He nods, understanding.

“When I asked how things were going,” he says, pauses, looks at her. She can feel him trying to fit the words together, and she already knows what he’s going to say before he says it. “I didn’t just mean with the boys, Joyce.”

Her mouth is half-full of sandwich, and she swallows hard enough to make her throat ache. Of course. She should’ve known this conversation wasn’t over, though she’d hoped beyond all hope it was.

The nightmares weren’t something she talked openly about. Will’s state was of more concern to her than her own, and she figured they would go away with time. But she’d told Hopper, exactly once, when he remarked that she looked “like hell” one day on her shift, which was exactly how she felt. She figured he’d take it as a throwaway line, as an explanation for the bags under her eyes and the vacant emptiness of her stare on that day in mid-March. I didn’t sleep well. I had a nightmare. Apparently, he hasn’t thrown it away so much as he’d stored it for later.

She doesn’t know if she’s annoyed or touched. A little bit of both, she thinks as warmth floods her chest. As much as she dreaded talking about it – about her mind and the hells to which it subjected her when the sun went down – she wasn’t used to this. To someone taking an interest in her, outside of Jonathan, around whom she always felt ashamed of showing weakness. God only knew Lonnie never did. She could’ve woken up shrieking, sobbing, struggling for air her lungs and brain wouldn’t let her have, and Lonnie would’ve just rolled over.

“I’m…a lot better than I was before,” she says, choosing every word carefully, walking a tightrope between complete honesty and leaving out information for Jim’s sake. “I still get them, but it’s less often. I’m sleeping through the night most of the time, now.”

The last thing she wants is him worrying about her. The sun seems to grow uncomfortably hot as she waits for his response, and she takes a bite of her sandwich to distract herself.

“I get ‘em, too,” he says, quieter, though there’s no one else around to hear him. “Used to be every night, a few months ago. Now it’s…once a week, maybe. Less than it was.”

This settles like a weight on her chest. The first thing she thinks is the thing she always thinks – that this is somehow her fault. That if Jim hadn’t been so involved in saving her son, if she’d come home earlier that night, if she’d figured everything out earlier…

They came back from the Upside Down, but part of them – the part giving them nightmares and keeping them up until the tiny hours of the morning – was still stuck there.

Her nightmares are always about Will or Jonathan. About CPR not working, about getting trapped only a few feet away from him, about the monster tearing her sons apart in front of her while she screams, trembles, cries. The Upside Down is recreated in all its overgrown, mucky glory, complete with flickering lights and Barb Holland’s glassy, lifeless stare. She awakes, bedsheets plastered to her with sweat, and only a cigarette smoked on her front porch in the dead of night can slow down the speeding of her thoughts.

“Hop, I’m s-“ she starts, ready to apologize, but he shakes his head, cutting her off.

“Don’t do that,” he says softly, and she closes her mouth. “I wouldn’t take any of it back. Will’s safe. That’s what matters.”

He trails off, fixing his gaze on the horizon, and she wonders what his nightmares are about. Are they about Eleven, who they know is out there, somewhere, in the Upside Down or in the woods? Are they about his daughter? Are they about Will?

He’s giving her a look that makes her wonder if there’s a fourth option hidden there somewhere, and again, she thinks about when he started visiting her every week. It wasn’t the week after they found him, or the week after that…could it have been mid-December? Early January? A few months ago…it could’ve been in that timeframe, or it could’ve been later than that. She won’t ask him to answer that question, so instead she poses a new one.

“How are things at the station?”

“Pretty slow,” Jim says. Not surprising – he once told her the only case he’d had at the time of Will’s disappearance revolved around vanishing garden gnomes. Since he never found them, she once – when things had settled considerably and they could stop looking over their shoulders on dark streets – joked that maybe they were hiding in the Upside Down. It was the first time she’d seen him smile since November.

“Although…” he starts.

“What?”

“I pulled over Jonathan’s friend the other day for speeding,” he says. “The Harrington kid. He was going twenty over the speed limit, right at the edge of town.”

His stare, the cringe in his tone, says he knows this has won him no points with her eldest son. From what Joyce knows about Steve, he’s a good kid. A daredevil, to be sure, and she doesn’t doubt that Jim would’ve had to pull him over. But underneath the bravado, Joyce can see how much he cares. He has a good heart. And he really does care about Jonathan, which is good. She doesn’t remember the last time her son had that – at least with someone his own age – and though they’re an unlikely pair, Steve is a good friend.

“Oh, no.”

“Yeah,” Jim says. “First he tried to tell me my radar was broken. When that didn’t work, he said my new jacket looked good on me.”

“Were you wearing a new jacket?”

“No. Same one I’ve had for the past four years.”

Joyce laughs. “What did you do?”

“I let him off with a warning,” Jim elaborates. “Probably should have given him a ticket, but he got pretty upset.”

Joyce grins at that, giving him a smirk. She knows why he let him off with a warning, and though she has firsthand knowledge of Steve’s flair for the dramatic, she doesn’t think Jim is being completely truthful about his reasoning.

“What?” he asks, a slow smile spreading over his lips.

“You’re going soft,” she says, raising an eyebrow.

“No, I’m not,” he says, indignant.

“Yes, you are,” she persists, teasing, moving a little closer to him as though minimized proximity will help get her point across. “Letting Steve Harrington go with a warning? Hop, I’m amazed at you.”

He gives a snort of a laugh, redness creeping across his cheeks. The change in complexion lets her know she’s hit home, though she’s only joking, and she considers thanking him for what he did. It’s no secret – at least among the kids – that Steve and his dad don’t get along, and coming home with a speeding ticket would have made things worse. But when she looks back at Jim he’s smiling, a softness in his gaze that both softens her heart and disarms her completely.

“He’s a good kid,” Jim says. “Doesn’t read speed limit signs, but a good kid. Figured I could let him off easy. Just this one time.”

“Well, I’m sure he appreciated it,” Joyce says.

“He better have,” Jim says. It’s probably supposed to sound threatening, but with his cheeks still a little pink and his mouth still quirked in the barest hint of a smile, she finds it utterly endearing.

Joyce looks down at her watch – five minutes until she has to be behind the counter again. And although he said work is slow, she can’t help thinking he needs to get back to doing something, even if he’s just sitting behind his desk at the station or pulling over speeding teenagers. The thought of going back to work makes her chest feel hollow, though it isn’t the work she’s dreading so much as the lack of company. It’s easy to feel alone in a store full of people, and even easier now than it was years ago.

She feels alone when she’s with Karen Wheeler, who doesn’t know anything about what happened. She feels alone when she meets Steve’s parents for the first time, who stare at her like she’s a hole in a pair of jeans, something desperately in need of patching. She feels alone when she talks to her co-workers, who love to talk to her about her son, the “boy who came back to life” – and she forces herself to recount a completely fake story that tastes like soap in her mouth.

But she doesn’t feel alone with Jim. She never has.

His visits are a highlight of her week, and she wonders why they didn’t start doing this before. Well, she remembers, probably because there was snow on the ground. It took the first day of spring and all the lightening of inhibitions that came with it for her to say those damn words, and now she’s elated that she did. Even if it’ll make it that much harder to go back to ringing up customers that aren’t Jim Hopper.

He catches her looking at her watch, seems to know what that means.

“Before we head back,” he says, “there’s…” he stops, takes a deep breath. “Something I wanted to ask you.”

Joyce catches the stumble in his sentence, blinks a few times in surprise. Her first worry is what her first worry always is: that something has happened with the lab. That they need to bring Will in, or that they’re sending Jim somewhere, or…she can’t keep going. But his tone isn’t right for that, it’s not heavy. It’s almost…nervous? He leans back a little on the bench, leans forward again, as though he’s knocked his posture off-balance and can’t seem to find the right calibration again. What would Jim have to be nervous about?

“Sure,” Joyce says, trying to keep her tone neutral. She knows anything that makes Jim nervous should probably make her nervous, too, but she’s not used to being the calmest half of the present pairing. “Go ahead.”

“Okay,” Jim says, and she has the feeling he’s stalling for time. He’s still fidgeting a little, looking at her and then looking away, staring out into the forest for a second as if he’s asking the trees to give him his next sentence. “I was wondering if you want to have dinner sometime.”

Joyce smiles, though she frowns a little too. They’ve had dinner plenty of times. He knows he’s always welcome at the Byers house, though she has to nag him incessantly to take her up on the invitation: she can tell he always feels like he’s intruding, like he’s taking food from her family.

“Of course,” Joyce says, “you’re always welcome to have dinner with us! Just let me know when you’re coming over, and I’ll figure out what to make. Can I tell Will? He would be so excited to know you’re-“

His face falls, and he cuts her off with a quiet, steady interruption, as if he’s afraid of being overheard by the trees or the empty road.

“I, uh, didn’t mean it that way.”

Oh.

Her breath catches, and she feels her heartbeat starting to pick up speed. There’s really only one other way he could have meant it…and suddenly, a hundred puzzle pieces click into place. His nervousness, when he said he had to ask her something. The consistent Wednesday visits. The way he looked at her sometimes, like he was working up the nerve to say something but couldn’t make himself talk.

Jim Hopper, Hawkins’ Chief of Police, the man who saved her son, her onetime high school boyfriend, is asking her on a date.

If she starts thinking about it, she’ll think herself in circles. She’ll lose herself in a maze of “what ifs” and “what would the boys think?” and “ruining the friendship,” although she suspects now that what they’d both been feeling had sped past platonic long ago, twenty miles per hour over the speed limit like Steve Harrington in his dad’s car.

She’s caught herself staring at him the same damn way he looks at her – only her, if the rumors around town were to be believed, but she never did. Not until today. He really had left his old lifestyle in the past, or so it seemed; she could hardly imagine the early 1983 model of Jim Hopper practically stuttering his way through that question. The thought that she might have been the catalyst for that shift is both overwhelming and electrifying, too much to consider and impossible not to ponder.

Her heart feels both light and full, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Who would’ve thought fifteen years of growing apart would push them back together again?

Jim’s looking at her with an equal mix of hope and trepidation, and she realizes she’s unintentionally been keeping him in suspense.

“Yes,” she blurts.

He looks dumbfounded for a moment, stunned, like she’s punched him in the face instead of accepted his offer. After a few moments her response seems to sink in, and he’s smiling that wide smile that threatens to split her heart open with sheer joy, his eyes sparkling like the ocean on a summer day. They’re both grinning at each other like the lovestruck teenagers they once were, the birds singing in the trees serving as the only witnesses to their moment.

“All right,” he says, looking at her with that same look, the one she now has a definition for after months of searching, after seeing him stumble into Melvald’s and shake snow off his boots on that first Wednesday in winter.

“All right,” she repeats back. On a wildly uncharacteristic impulse, she leans in and presses her lips to his cheek, the warmth of him radiating through her entire being.

All right.

And for the first time in a long time, she thinks everything really might be.

#jopper #joyce byers #jim hopper #hopper #my fic #emily writes

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