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mendeshoney · 6 months ago

Text

this close isn't close enough

a/n: happy thirsty thurday fellow harlots ^_^

this is a small little part 3 ish/sequel to take me back to eden (you can find part one here and part two here) that just popped into my head and i figured i'd jot it down for you all to enjoy. it does discuss wanting and trying for a child, so if that's not something you're comfortable with, this may not be for you, so read with caution. this is for @pyotrkochetkov and @smileysvech because without them this fictional andrei wouldn't exist! title is from "melt" by kehlani

warnings/tags: nine year age gap, older man x younger woman, slice of married life, baby fever, fluff, lots of smut, shower sex, hotel sex (semi-public, against the window), oral sex, unprotected sex, mentions of pregnancy/impregnation

word count: 12,163

“Almaznyy?” Andrei calls out, removing his reading glasses with one hand as he shuts his laptop with the other, then rubs the bridge of his nose.

He counts to ten in his head, waiting for your response, but it doesn’t come. The soft and familiar whrrrrr of a machine echoes back at him instead, and he sighs, a small smile stretching across his face as he gets up from his desk to wander down the hall.

When he makes it down the hall and to the threshold that leads to you, he's not surprised in the slightest to find you at your pottery wheel. Your back is to him as you sit on your stool, headphones on as your body lightly moves along to the music playing, hands firm and shaping the clay in front of you into what he knows is the makings of a teapot.

Beside you, on the work table, Andrei sees two mugs newly finished with their handles attached, two finished matching saucer plates that need to be painted with glaze and fired, and two little spoons, already fired and glazed, probably newly taken out of the kiln. Beyond that, he also spots two jars - one for honey and one for sugar cubes, you had told him - and three brand new jars of glaze.

He takes a second to himself to just silently admire you, his beautiful wife of nearly two years, and lets his heart beat wild and content in his chest.

Andrei had converted one of his guest rooms into your own little art studio not long after you moved in with him, and by converted, he means he took out all the furniture, stripped the carpet, and let you decorate and furnish it how you saw fit.

He tried his best to learn as much as he could about what kinds of art you liked creating, the tools you used, but in truth, a lot of it was lost on him, and you had more mediums of art you were interested in than you cared to admit. Andrei had ended up giving you his card instead, telling you to buy whatever it was you needed or wanted, so that the space became exactly what you had always dreamed of.

You had been meticulous about it, too, and Andrei adored every second of watching you design the space back then. The flooring was first - you insisted on water and stain proof vinyl floors - followed by shelves, storage drawers, a small desk, your massive work table, and other organizing things. Then, once you had a place and space for everything, you bought canvases, a pottery wheel, clay, easels, paints, a sketchbook, pencils, pens, markers, and more.

You’d bought a kiln, too, which had its own place in a little shed he bought and had built for you outside. Since you'd gotten back into pottery and started making pieces, you'd been able to sell some to a few of the wives, girlfriends, and partners of players on the team, as well as some of Andrei's co-workers in the Canes' front office. You had even put a few up of your paintings and drawings you'd done on your larger canvases in their charity auctions over the last couple of years, which had given you a significant amount of your own money.

Andrei encouraged you to go legit and open up a shop, which was an idea you'd been slowly getting used to. You'd set up a website so far, and had sold your first collection a couple of months ago - planters and vases and hanging planters and such - which had done extremely well, but you insisted you wanted to still be able to find fun in doing it again instead of allowing it to feel like an obligation.

To help with that as of late, had been your project of a tea set for his mom's birthday, which was still months away. You'd been using the kiln a lot more because of it, for test pieces as well as the actual pieces themselves, so more often than not lately, your art studio is where he found you.

"If you call for me and I don't respond to you in ten seconds," you'd told him when you first started on the set, "I'm either in here, or at the kiln out back."

Quietly, he observes as you shape the lump of clay in the center of your wheel into a sphere, then, unhappy with the roundness, you carefully squeeze at it until it's back into another lump, before shaping it out once more. The rise of your shoulders before they tense as you start to create a hole in the middle of the clay, and the fall of them again when you start to pinch at the walls until it forms into the exact shape you want.

Only when you stop the wheel and dip your hands into the bowl of water beside you to get rid of the excess clay does Andrei approach, carefully placing his hands on your shoulders to give you a gentle squeeze.

You tilt your head back, bumping it into his abdomen gently as you gaze up at him with his favorite dazzling smile. He carefully removes your headphones, putting it on the work table and smoothing your hair down.

"Hi baby," he murmurs, bending down to press a kiss to your forehead, the tip of your nose, and then to your lips.

You hum softly before sitting up, turning yourself around on the stool to face him. "Hi handsome," you return, grabbing a towel from the work table and wiping your hands before settling them on his waist, fingers playing with the belt loops of his jeans. "Did you call for me a lot?"

"Just once," he says, unable to resist bending down to kiss you again.

He loves looking at you like this, soft in the mid morning light, a blissful smile on your face with dots of clay and glaze over your cheeks and on the little apron you have covering your clothes. He loves how he can smell the vanilla of your body wash among the earthen scents in the art studio, and how it makes him feel like he's completely at peace.

Andrei loves you. His almaznyy. His beautiful diamond. His wife.

"What's going on?" You ask him, those beautiful eyes crinkling at the edges in another one of his favorite smiles when his hands descend into your hair, carding the strands between his fingers.

"I bought the tickets for us to go and visit Evgeny and Sara." He says.

"Oh good," you say with a nod before leaning into his touch. "When do we leave?"

"Next week," he says, tugging playfully on a strand of your hair and chuckling softly when you pout at him for it. "Is that okay?"

You wrap your arms around his waist, rubbing your face into his clothed abdomen, your verbal response muffled in the fabric. Andrei laughs, scratching gently at your scalp. "What was that, almaznyy?"

"Da," you say, leaning back to look at him again but keeping your arms secured around his waist. "That's fine with me."

He smirks when he spots a familiar glint in your eyes, watching the way your pupils dilate then blow out a little wide when he cups your face in his hands, thumbs caressing at your jaw. "My busy little almaznyy, you've been working hard lately, haven't you?"

You nod, humming in agreement. He nods too, letting one of his hands trail down and to the back of your neck, deftly undoing the knots at the top of your apron. "So diligent," he praises, "What did I do to deserve you?"

Your eyes track him as he removes his hands from your body, lowering himself to his knees so he can wrap his arms around your waist to get at the ties behind you. He buries his face into your neck as he does so, adoring the way your head immediately tilts to allow him the room. He ghosts his lips across the skin as he undoes the ties around your waist, ignoring your little whines of protest when he pulls the apron off of you and tosses it to the side.

He sits back on his haunches, looking up at you with a Cheshire grin of his own. "You got clay on your clothes too, almaznyy." He playfully chastises, gesturing towards the little flecks of clay on the black shirt you're wearing - which is most definitely his - and to the miniscule spots on your sweatpants. "Think we should probably get you cleaned up in that case, shouldn't we?"

A small smirk crosses your lips as you nod, and Andrei smiles, surging up to wrap you in his arms. You go easily, both your bodies on muscle memory as you wrap your arms around his neck and legs around his waist, and he lifts you into his hold easily, standing with you and carrying you off down the hall to your bedroom.

The warm spray of the shower cascades down his bare back as Andrei fucks you slow and deep against the tiles, his arms settled into the space behind your knees as he holds you up and open for him.

Your cries echo around the bathroom, your arms wrapped around his neck and fingers tangled in his hair, grasping at the strands desperately, his name a repeated plea on your lips.

"More," you beg sweetly, and he smiles, eyes locked on your face. He lowers you a little bit, and on the next push in, your eyes flutter shut as your mouth falls open in a beautiful cry, pussy squeezing around his cock in a way that makes him so fucking dizzy.

"Come on baby," he coaxes, pressing you impossibly closer against the tiles and against himself, burying his face in your neck to suck a bruise into the skin. With every press of his hips forward, your clit grinds against his abs, and he can feel the way your body begins to tense up and shake in his hold, your nails disappearing from his scalp to dig into his shoulders instead.

His name leaves your lips in another desperate plea, and he chuckles, nipping playfully at the skin of your neck, your jaw, before capturing your lips in a filthy kiss. He licks into your mouth, massaging his tongue with yours before he pulls away just slightly, dragging your bottom lip between his teeth as he goes.

"Is my pretty wife going to come on her husband's cock?" He taunts, and he sees the way the words go straight through you, your eyes glazing over, body going almost lax in his grip.

(He'd gotten much filthier and practically insane with his dirty talk over time. It started not long after you'd left Eden and began officially dating nearly seven months after meeting, and had only gotten more intense during the three month time span that you'd been engaged. It didn't help the fact that he noticed you particularly loved when he called you his wife, regardless of the situation.)

"Andrei," you plead. "Please."

"Please what, pretty baby?" He murmurs, dragging his lips against yours lazily, "What is it my pretty wife wants, hm?"

Your pussy squeezes down again and he groans, stealing another filthy kiss from you. "'M so close," you say between kisses, dragging your nails across his shoulders again.

He keeps your legs hooked over his bent arms, reaching his hands down to squeeze at your waist, thumb rubbing gently over where he knows a little diamond tattoo sits at your side, fucking you onto his cock in deep, sharp thrusts that steal your breath from you, and your eyes squeeze shut as your body shakes even more in his hold.

Andrei latches his lips to that sensitive spot on your neck, pressing his body tight against yours. That, and the added friction as your clit rubs against his abs, your sensitive nipples brushing against his chiseled chest, has you coming around him with a loud cry. Your pussy clamps down, pulsing around him and Andrei groans, holding you tight as he fucks past the grip, chasing after his own orgasm.

He groans low and deep, electricity shooting up his spine as he comes, filling you from where he's buried deep. It sends your body into a second orgasm almost immediately, and Andrei curses, muttering a string of Russian in your ear at the unexpected sensation.

You both take a blissful, fucked out moment to calm down, heartbeats slowing and breathing returning to normal.

"Okay?" He murmurs after a few minutes, and you nod, sighing happily in his hold. He taps your hips, and you nod again. An unhappy sounding noise leaves you when he gently pulls out, and his heart aches a little bit, thinking you’re probably sore. He’s immediately pressing apologetic kisses to your forehead while lowering you to the ground. His hands stay on your body, keeping you steady until you manage to stand on your own.

When his eyes finally get back to your face, there's an expression there he hasn't seen before, one he can't quite place. There's a tinge of disappointment there, and longing, and it brings a frown to his face too.

He cups your face in his hands, tilting your head up to look at him. When your eyes lock, the expression fades, and the smile that takes over your face is so brightly it almost knocks him off of his feet.

"What's wrong, almaznyy?" He says, thumb brushing against your cheeks.

You lean into his touch, hands circling around his wrists. "Nothing, Drei." You promise, "I'm perfectly happy."

There's nothing in your voice or in your face now that tells him that you're lying, or that you're hiding anything from him, so he has no reason to not believe you.

Still, he stores the expression he saw away for later, keeping it in mind just in case.

He takes his time washing you both off after that, enjoying the content noises you make as he shampoos your hair and wraps you up in a fluffy towel when you're all done, pressing gentle kisses all over your face before seizing your mouth in a kiss he hopes tells you "I'm so in love with you I think my heart might burst without you."

Andrei quickly darts out of the way as a little boy zooms past him, his father chasing after him and tossing a “sorry!” over his shoulder as he goes.

He laughs a little, calling out a “it’s okay!” in their way as he double checks that he still has a hold on your drinks and food before he keeps walking.

He heads back into the airport lounge and straight for you, handing you a cup of hot chocolate and a warmed up croissant from one of the bistros in the terminal. You accept it with a happy smile and a murmured ‘thank you’ before he snuggles up next to you on the little couch you’ve both managed to commandeer for yourselves.

He glances over at your airport outfit once more, mostly because he can’t help but appreciate how cozy you look.

Admittedly, he’s still got a small habit of dressing up when he flies, so he’s his standard in black pants and a white shirt, and you insisted on matching with him when you got dressed this morning. You’re in black lounge pants, a white shirt, and you have a gray sweater tied and resting around your shoulders.

Andrei figured out that when you fly you prefer to have your own blanket with you, which you have curled around your shoulders right now as you take a sip of your hot chocolate.

You look more ready for a cozy winter than you do for a week-long vacation during the summer in San Jose.

“Is it good baby?” He asks, taking a sip of his own coffee. You nod, holding the cup to your cheek. Another thing he learned - you get cold easily, but especially in airports.

“Very,” you nod, leaning your head to rest on his shoulder. “Spasibo, malysh.”

“You’re welcome, almaznyy.”

He’s content to relax like that with you, and when he takes his phone out once you’ve finished your drinks, you help him with the crossword puzzle game he became addicted to once he saw you playing it yourself.

The two of you are engrossed in trying to figure out a six letter word for the clue “tough” when there’s a blur of pale yellow accompanied by a flurry of giggles that crashes into your legs, and it makes both of you jump up a little in surprise.

It’s a baby boy, Andrei realizes, one who’s most likely just learned what running is given the delighted and mischievous expression on his face, and when he turns to check if you’re okay, he’s surprised to find you out of your seat, blanket abandoned, and kneeling on the floor in front of the child to see if they’re okay.

The baby looks like he’s seconds from crying, but then you’re smiling, speaking at him quietly and gently, and to Andrei’s amazement, the baby stops, looks at you, and then bursts into a fit of giggles.

You laugh, happy that you could make him feel better, and continue to speak to him while he babbles away at you. He’s seen you do it with Luka, coaxing him away from a tantrum he’d been seconds away from, and calming Mila down when she scraped her knee while learning to ride her bike that first time, and it still amazes him how good you are with kids. Something warm and fuzzy starts to grow in his heart, and it stops short when a woman who Andrei can only assume is the baby’s mother approaches.

“I’m so sorry!” She says, jogging toward where you and the baby are on the ground. “Leo’s just discovered how fast he can move but we’re still working on finding his brakes.”

“It’s alright,” you reassure her through a laugh. “My nephew Luka was the same.”

My nephew - Andrei still loved that you thought that way.

“He probably had places to be and we were just in the way, weren’t we Leo?” You tease, pulling a funny face at Leo. His mom laughs when Leo bursts into giggles, picking Leo up into her arms.

“He’s fast,” Andrei notes when you stand with her, “How old is he?”

“He just turned one,” his mom gushes.

You make a little cooing sound. “Is he your first?”

Leo’s mother shakes her head with a laugh. “You’d think so, but I have a three year old too. His name’s Sky, he’s with my husband over there, we finally just got him to settle down but then this little guy decided it was time to sprint.”

You and Andrei look over to where Leo’s mom gestured, finding the three year old who almost ran him over earlier eating snacks while his dad watches over him, all the while looking over at his wife and smiling when he sees her.

Andrei knows that smile, he probably sends that same smile your way about a hundred times a day.

Ulybka vlyublennogo muzhchiny. His mom had said. The smile of a man in love.

“You should think about getting them into sports soon.” Andrei says when he turns back toward the mom, “Sky almost tackled me in the terminal earlier-”

“-And Leo barely flinched when he ran into me!” You tease, making another funny face at the baby. He giggles, suddenly growing shy as he hides in his mom’s shoulders.

She laughs, “Everyone’s been saying that to me. I might just have to consider it.”

Andrei reaches into his pocket, grabbing his business card from his wallet and hands it to the mother with a small smile. “If you ever think they’re interested in hockey, give me a call or send me an email. I’d be happy to get them set up.”

The mother takes Andrei’s card with a curious look, and when she reads his name, her eyes light up in recognition, and she smiles, laughing a little to herself.

“I knew you looked familiar! My husband and I are big fans. We were there for your last cup winning game. It’s so nice to meet you!”

Andrei catches the glance you shoot at him from the corner of his eye, can see the tense line of your shoulders in his peripheral, but he gives the mother an easy smile, and your body relaxes.

Now that he has you, that time in his life isn’t so painful anymore.

“Thank you,” he says genuinely. “I’m glad that you were there, it felt good to have home crowd support.”

“I appreciate your offer, I’ll definitely reach out.” She says, then looks at both of you. “It was nice meeting you both, you’re such a lovely couple!”

You both say your goodbyes, you waving at baby Leo, who waves back shyly, then looks at Andrei. Andrei waves too, and to his surprise, baby Leo waves back to him too, before burying his face in his mother’s shoulder.

You finally return to your seat on the couch next to Andrei, wrapping both of your arms around his, resting your chin on his shoulder as you smile brightly up at him.

“That was hot of you.” You say, which has Andrei laughing in surprise.

“What was, almaznyy?”

“You and your business cards.” You say, scrunching your nose a little. “I liked it, it was very authoritative.”

Andrei shakes his head, booping your nose with his finger. “Calm yourself down, almaznyy. I’m still not interested in being part of the mile high club.”

You roll your eyes with a shrug, but relax fully against his side. “Offer still stands.”

You're laying on the floor of Sara and Evgeny's living room, laughing as you bounce eight month old baby Alexei up and down against your belly, watching as his little legs kick back and forth and he babbles his joy. From beside you, three year old Luka lays on his belly as he plays with the train set Andrei had bought him last Christmas, and five year old Mila rests on your other side, coloring diligently in the sketchbook you'd bought her for her birthday.

She'd seen you drawing in one of your journals and had become both enraptured and amazed as she observed you, and then had been overjoyed when you handed her the book and pencil so she could create her own drawings as she pleased.

Her parents had been worried that she might accidentally press the pencil too tight and ruin one of your other drawings, or accidentally draw over something you had done, but either way, you would have cared less. "It's good for her to do it this way," you had told them, "so she knows what she makes is important, too."

On the couch above you, Sara's feeding a bottle to Alexei's twin brother Aleksander, watching you and her children. She smiles, nudging you gently in the side with her socked feet.

"You're a natural at this," she praises. "The kids always seem to behave better when you're here."

You scoff a little, making nonsensical noises at Alexei as he babbles back at you. "Hardly," you say. "I think it's because Andrei wears them out first."

When you and Andrei come around, he tends to round up his niece and nephews, tiring the older ones out by running around while you and Sara or Evgeny or Andrei's parents help with the twins.

Sara shakes her head. "No, he might wear them out, but they still have plenty of room to be crazy. You settle them down. This is the quietest they've been all day."

You look at your nieces and nephews at where they each are, peaceful and happy and content, and you shrug, smiling a little to yourself. "I guess so."

Sara laughs, nudging you again. "So, when are you gonna have some little ones of your own? We're outnumbered by boys here and it's your turn to pop a baby out for once."

You falter slightly, almost dropping baby Alexei straight on your face before you catch him effortlessly, trying to ignore the wave of dizziness when you launch yourself upright into a sitting position. Luka and Mila barely spare either of you a glance, too focused on what they're doing. You gaze at Sara, holding Alexei tight with one hand while shushing her with the other.

"Not so loud!" You half whisper, half yell.

Andrei and Evgeny were just in the kitchen not too far away, and while they were probably distracted by shop talk, you couldn't risk him hearing like this.

Sara narrows her eyes at you, frowning, whisper-yelling right back. "You told me on the phone last week that you were going to talk to him about it! And the week before that, and two weeks before that!"

You groan, shaking your head and beginning to bounce Alexei again when he starts to fuss. Sara shakes her head right back at you, gesturing for you to follow her as she heads toward the twins' nursery, instructing Mila and Luka to "wait right here while mommy talks to your aunt."

As you head to the nursery, you pass Andrei and Evgeny who are, as expected, engrossed in their conversation, but it doesn't stop Andrei from tossing a wink at you as you pass by.

You pointedly ignore the way it makes butterflies swarm and swoop in your stomach, smiling softly in return before ducking out of sight and into the nursery. Sara shuts the door behind you, giving you a pointed look as she does so.

You'd had best friends before, obviously, but never an older sister figure, and none quite like Sara. When Andrei had introduced you two, she'd been nothing but welcoming, friendly, and someone you'd come to rely on quite a lot since then.

When she announced she was pregnant with twins last year, you'd been overjoyed for her, and often traveled back and forth between San Jose and Raleigh to help her with the babies, especially since it had been Evgeny's first year working with the coaching staff of the Sharks, having previously been in the front office.

Maybe it was the excitement you got in helping her decorate the nursery, even though most of it was taken care of since they had things from Luka and Mila, or maybe it was just all the preparation you helped her with, but it had given you severe baby fever.

Like...severe.

Severe enough that you were practically ready to be pregnant that very same day until reality kicked in and knocked some serious sense into you.

You'd asked her how she and Evgeny had approached the topic of having kids, if she had advice on how you should broach the subject with Andrei, and she had only one thing to say.

"They're pretty direct people," she had said. "It's best to rip the bandaid off with something like that."

A couple of months ago, she texted you a picture of the twins in the matching pajama set you'd bought, and something in it made you want to finally talk to Andrei about it. So you told Sara that you would.

But...

The second you'd gone to Andrei in his office about it, you suddenly got cold feet. Realistically, you two hadn't actually talked about having kids before. Things with the two of you had been unconventional and fast from the start, so granted, you both had done things a little messily and quite backwards.

Still, the worst he could say to you was "no" or "not right now baby," but despite your past mess you two had always been on the same page, so the idea of hearing a "not right now" was okay, but hearing "no"?

Yeah, not something you had exactly prepared yourself for.

So instead of allowing there to be room for a "no" or "not right now," you just...didn't say a word.

Which Sara was definitely going to yell at you for.

Or at least, whisper yell, what with the twins going down for their nap and all.

Sara lays a droopy Aleksander into his crib, and he falls asleep the second his head hits the pillow. She takes Alexei from you next, sitting in the rocking chair set up in the corner of the room to start to feed him his bottle while you sit on the floor, gazing at baby Aleksander through the bars of his crib.

"What in the world are you waiting for?" Sara asks you, voice soft but firm in the nursery.

You groan a little to yourself. "I just haven't gotten around to it, okay?"

"Yes, but why?" She presses. "You know he won't say no to you."

"I actually don't know that. He might not be able to say no when I ask for help, or ask for something, but children are not things to ask for. It's an entire human being you're bringing into the world, you know!"

Sara gives you a deadpan expression. "Of course I know, I've brought four of them into existence."

"Then you know that it's a lot to ask. Even if I want a child, even if I want to be a mom and raise my kids and bring them up, that doesn't guarantee that Andrei wants the same."

"He'll want them with you." Sara insists. "He'll want them because you'll be their mother and he's in love with you and those kids will be half of you and he'll be so proud to say that they're your children."

The idea fills you with hope, but you tamp it down. You have to be realistic about this. You know your husband, and you know that while Sara's right and he will do anything for you, he also probably won't handle this being sprung on him as a surprise, or appreciate being confronted with it out of the blue.

"Just get rid of your birth control and tell him you want a kid." Sara insists, and your eyes bug out of your head.

"Are you insane?" You whisper yell. "That would definitely give him a heart attack."

"Don't be so dramatic," she says, rolling her eyes. "He's too young to have those."

"I'll talk to him," you promise, more to yourself than to Sara. "But I'm not using any of your suggestions."

Sara shrugs. "Fine by me, but there'd better be a new baby next Christmas, and it won't be mine."

In the kitchen, Andrei watches with fond eyes as you disappear into the nursery with Sara and the twins. He's listening to what Evgeny's talking about, he really is, but his eyes are locked on the silent screen of the baby monitor, showing you handing Alexei off to Sara after Sara's put Aleksander down.

Watching you with his niece and nephews all day had filled his heart with something warm and fuzzy, something he couldn't quite place.

The way that you cared for his family since he introduced you to them was something that made Andrei incredibly happy, and he could tell that the way that they cared for you in turn made you just as happy.

He often caught you speaking with his mother on the phone, trying your best to only stick to Russian as best as possible to make her comfortable. His father didn't reach out often, but when he did, you did your best to converse with him too. Sometimes, when you thought Andrei wasn't looking, he'd see you reading through a Russian textbook in your art studio, brushing up on the language.

You talked to Sara almost every week, the two of you growing to be as close as sisters, and that made Andrei happy considering the only real sibling relationship you had was still pretty strained. Even after Andrei married you, your brother Joshua still wasn't his favorite person, which was unfortunate, considering his husband Sam was an angel and one of your favorite people.

Evgeny had also grown closer to you a little, considering how much you helped him and Sara prepare for the arrival of the twins. There were times he'd reach out to you if he couldn't reach Andrei for any reason, and Evgeny often teased Andrei about how more often than not, it seemed like a freak accident that he'd managed to find someone like you to be his wife.

"Believe me," Andrei had told his brother. "I know."

He listens intently to his brother as he discusses what's going on with the Sharks, clearly seeking Andrei's advice, but all the while, Andrei keeps his eyes on you, watches you through the baby monitor as you sit with Sara and the twins.

Everything about your body language screams comfort, like there's nowhere in the world you'd rather be, and it brings a smile to his face unconsciously.

Evgeny pauses in his ranting, glancing to the baby monitor and rolling his eyes, shoving at Andrei. "Obrashchat' vnimaniye," he scolds. Pay attention.

"I am!" Andrei insists, turning his full attention back to his brother. "You were saying?"

Evgeny opens his mouth, then closes it, a curious expression crossing his features. "Have you thought about it?"

"About what?" Andrei asks, moving his brother so he can go into the fridge and steal one of those obnoxious glass bottles of water Evgeny insists on buying.

"About what comes after marriage," Evgeny says. "About having kids."

Andrei almost drops the water bottle on the kitchen floor, can hear it shatter in his ears, but he's pretty sure that's his brain doing that. "About what?" He asks, voice practically an echo in his head.

Evgeny shakes his head. "Ty takoy idiot."

Andrei turns to face him, frowning. "I am not an idiot."

"You are, actually. Have you two not talked about having kids?"

Andrei opens his mouth, then shuts it.

You two actually hadn't. Not really. Not at all, now that he thought about it.

Evgeny shakes his head. "Listen, I know you're enjoying your never ending honeymoon phase, but it wouldn't hurt to ask."

Andrei takes a swig from his water, glancing at you on the monitor.

You've got Alexei in your arms now, feeding him the rest of his bottle while Sara rests on the rocking chair, eyes on Aleksander.

His heart does a little flip, imagining you holding a little baby that's got your nose and his eyes, and it brings back the warm and fuzzy feeling he'd felt earlier.

Maybe...maybe it was worth a discussion.

Since Evgeny's house had gotten crowded with all the kids, Andrei had booked a suite for the two of you at the Marriott.

It had a lovely view of the city, especially at night, and Andrei enjoyed it even more with your naked body pressed against one of the many floor to ceiling windows, watching the way your face twisted with pleasure in the reflection of the glass.

The lights were off in the hotel room, so there wasn't a single chance of anyone seeing what the two of you were up to, but the thrill was there all the same. He wanted to show you off, show off his beautiful little wife, the only diamond he ever needed.

Your palm prints littered the window as you pushed back against him, and Andrei groaned, tightening the grip on your hips, fingers pressing against where he knew that little diamond tattoo rested beneath the waistband of your thong.

He could barely wait, barely think by the time you both got back to the hotel. The second your jeans were off, he pulled your thong to the side and slid in to the hilt, burying himself inside of you and making you come all over him in seconds.

It wasn't often that Andrei took you from behind. More often than not, he preferred looking at you, preferred watching the beautiful faces you made and watching the way your body reacted to his own. But in times like these, where there was something that could help him watch you, he couldn't exactly complain.

He releases his hold on one of your hips, letting his hands wander up your torso, bringing you upright against him as he bends his knees a little, adjusting for your height difference so he can cage you against him as he fucks into you.

Pleasant and happy noises leave you as he plays with one of your nipples, then the other, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses on your neck. His nails gently scratch at the valley between your breasts, making you shiver, before trailing his hand down your stomach.

He had every intention of putting his fingers to your clit, rubbing gently there the way you liked when he took you like this, but instead, his hands lingered on your stomach, on where he could feel the slight bulge of where his cock fucked in and out of you, and he found his hands resting there instead.

A shiver ran through your body, your pussy pushing back on his cock again as if on impulse, and a deep, pleased noise rumbled through Andrei's chest.

"Almaznyy?" He murmured against your neck, finding the sensitive spot below your ear and sucking against it gently.

You gasped in his hold, shaking a little, and he chuckled, pressing his hand against the little bulge of your stomach, the hand he still had on your waist tightening its grip, pressing his fingers a little more into the diamond tattoo.

"Can you feel me here, moya krasivaya zhena?" He asks you, cock throbbing when you squeeze against him in excitement. You loved it when he called you ‘my pretty wife.’ "Can you feel me fucking you?"

You nod, frantic, hands gripping onto his arms. "Please, malysh, wanna come."

"You wanna come already?" He taunts. "Gonna come for me in front of the whole city?"

A soft whine leaves your lips as he thrusts in particularly hard, emphasizing his question.

"Yes," you answer, nearly breathless.

“And what about me?” He teases, pressing his hand against your stomach a little more. "You want me to come inside, almaznyy? Want me to come right here?"

In the reflection of the window, he catches the way your eyes slam shut before you throw your head back against his shoulder, mouth open in a silent cry and body seizing as your orgasm claims you. Your pussy clenches impossibly tight, and it sends Andrei over the edge in seconds, pushing down on your waist to bury himself inside of you, cock throbbing almost painfully as he comes.

The two of you shake silently for a second, and Andrei holds you both upright as best as he can until he can feel your body as it calms down. He pulls out gently, not wasting a second before he scoops you up, walking you over to the bed to lay you on it gently before he climbs on beside you.

You go to him almost immediately, and his arms open on instinct, welcoming you in his embrace as you bury your nose in his chest.

He wants to say something, anything. He wants to ask you if what just happened was okay, if you're okay, if he didn't cross a line, if you maybe wanted to try that again sometime soon or maybe if you want to try it in a different position.

But then he hears your breathing start to even out, feels the way your body goes lax in his hold, and he resigns himself to discussing it another time.

The following day, you and Andrei head back over to Sara and Evgeny’s for lunch. You help Sara put the kids down for their naps after you all eat, and Andrei and Evgeny handle the dishes.

When you and Sara come out of the kids’ rooms, you’re met with a chorus of laughter from Andrei, Evgeny, and then their mother’s voice echoes through the living room.

Peeking around the corner, you can see Andrei and Evegny crowded around Evgeny’s laptop, definitely on FaceTime with their mother.

She signals to you to hang back, and you nod. You’re more than happy to give Andrei and his brother the alone time they need to speak with their mom, so you lean back against the wall, Sara against the one opposite you, and you smile at each other when you hear the brother excitedly converse with their mother in Russian.

Your fluency has gotten better, but it’s not one hundred percent - same with Sara’s - so the two of you can only really pick up on bits and pieces here and there, catching tidbits of their mother’s praises for her boys along with her normal chastising.

You two are looking fit!

Still, you both need to eat more.

You’re working too hard.

Are you ready for the upcoming season?

Oh my brilliant boys!

How are my daughters?

How are the grandkids?

Evgeny, you’d better bring them by soon so I can babysit.

Andrei, how are you doing?

Are you and my favorite girl happy?

When are you two going to give me more grandchildren?!

That last part sends a shock through your body, and Sara nudges you with her foot at the same time Andrei begins to stutter and stammer in the living room.

Their mom starts to say something else when her voice gets quieter, and you realize Andrei’s turned the volume down. His voice gets a little quieter, and Evgeny’s loud laughter drowns out whatever Andrei says in return to their mother.

Sara gives you another pointed look, as if to say “So you still didn’t talk to him about it.”

You roll your eyes, and she nudges your foot again before dragging you down the hall and into her and Evgeny’s bedroom.

“For the love of God,” she says. “I know you said you’re not taking my suggestions, but you are going to have to take this one, specifically with the promise that you’ll at least save it until you get back to Raleigh.”

You answer her with a deadpan stare, and she sighs, exasperated, before gesturing to you.

“You have to seduce him.” She says plainly. “It’s how I did it with Evgeny, and it’s how you’re going to have to do it with Andrei instead of tiptoeing around.”

You’re slightly dumbfounded, so all you can manage is a weak “What?”

“Remember when I told you to rip the bandaid off?” She asks, and you nod. She waves a hand around, “Well, that’s what I meant by that. Seduce him. Rip the bandaid off.”

“Seduce him…” You say, and it sounds more like a question than a statement.

Sara grabs you by the shoulders and shakes you a bit. “You know he loves you, you know he thinks you’re hot. Use it.”

Sara doesn’t know how you and Andrei met, no one does except Lottie, Oli, Mason, Eli, and you and Andrei. She has no idea about your past.

Which means she has no idea that if there is anything you know how to do, it’s seduce Andrei.

You try your best to clear your mind, focusing on exfoliating your skin as you shower and the things you’re planning on doing once this shower is done.

It had been a week since you’d returned from visiting with Sara and Evgeny, and this morning, you’d gone to see your OBGYN doctor to discuss…well, a possible game plan.

You agreed that after you finished this round of birth control pills and had your period, you and Andrei would probably start trying.

And well, after you spoke to Andrei about all of this, of course.

But Sara was right, seduction might have to come first. You were too out of sorts to wait any longer.

He had been gone this morning when you went to your appointment, having to be at the practice rink to watch the team’s morning skate, and when you had returned home after running some errands, he’d been in his office for a string of phone calls, which he said he’d be in and out of till about two this afternoon.

It was about noon, then. So you’d gone on a run, had a little pep talk with yourself to prepare for the impending conversation, and strategized.

The pep talk you had was simple - if during said conversation, Andrei voiced that he didn’t want kids, that was that. You would not be forcing him into anything he didn’t want or trying to convince him, and the two of you would likely talk things out from there.

If he did want kids, perfect, you could talk about that, but, you could also give him a bit of extra motivation.

Which brought you to the seduction strategy you’d developed so carefully on the way back from your run.

It was about one in the afternoon when you got back, so you threw together a quick lunch for you and Andrei to have - once he was done with his phone calls and you - and it was about one thirty when you hopped into the shower.

You’d gone for a wax right after your doctor’s appointment, as part of the errands you ran, along with a mani pedi, but a little extra gentle exfoliation on the legs never hurt anyone.

Once you finished in the shower, you toweled off and applied the vanilla lotion Andrei loved the most on you, before slipping on one of your favorite sundresses. It was also one Andrei liked on you, particularly because it was just the right side of see through.

Hence, why it was a key part to your strategy.

It might be devious, and it’s definitely playing dirty, but you need a little ammunition on your side, if not for the sake of a small confidence boost to get you through the conversation.

You did this for a living, for a time. You did this specifically for Andrei before, it shouldn’t be too hard to do it for him again. Sure, the way that you seduced him now looked different, the way that you were together now had changed drastically, but Sara was right. At the very least, Andrei loved you, and he never failed to remind you how attractive you were to him.

So hopefully, this worked.

You checked the time on the clock on your nightstand - one fifty five. A quick glance in the mirror assured you this was the best option outfit wise, and your nerves reminded you that you’d both probably need a little bit of liquid courage for this next bit. Heading back out to the kitchen, you make yourself a quick margarita and pour Andrei a shot of his favorite whisky.

If there was anything you knew about your husband, sometimes he just needed a little something to take the edge off before he could plow forward with whatever it was he needed to do. He was bound to be nervous once you brought up the idea of having a baby, especially if you were going to be playing just a little bit dirty about it.

You grabbed both glasses and headed back down the hall to Andrei’s office. Just as you crossed the threshold, he was bidding whoever was on the other line goodbye, and you took a deep breath to steel yourself.

Andrei is your husband. You love each other. You reminded yourself. He is your husband. You can get through anything together.

Andrei smiles when you hand him his glass, his reading glasses perched on his nose making him look both hot, authoritative, and innocent all at once. “Now how did you know I needed this, moya zhena?”

You shrug, playing innocent. “A lucky guess.”

You both toast, clinking your glasses before each taking a sip of your respective drinks. You try to hide your smile behind your glass as you do, but you should’ve known better.

Andrei’s almost always looking at you, so nothing ever could get past your loving and doting husband.

“What’s that smile doing there?” He teases, and it’s then that he seems to finally take in what you’re wearing.

And that you’re wearing nothing underneath it.

You try another innocent smile, but Andrei raises a brow in suspicion, quirking his finger and summoning you to his side of the desk.

Placing your glass down on the mahogany, you round the desk to his side, obeying when he taps the desk and jumping up, taking a seat but keeping your legs crossed.

You don’t want him distracted.

“Are you about to ask me for something expensive, almaznyy? Because if you are, you’re off to a good start.”

You never actually needed to do anything if it was expensive, including asking him for anything, since you did have your own income, and you both knew that. But still, every now and again you liked to pretend like you did, liked the way it made Andrei nervous and pliant, like he didn’t meet you the way he actually did, like he wasn’t familiar with the concept.

But that wasn’t what you were going for here.

“Well,” you start, “it’s sort of expensive. An…investment, if you will.”

He frowns slightly. “Don’t tell me Jarvy’s wife actually talked you into wanting to buy that monstrosity of a beach house.”

A surprised laugh bubbles out of you, having almost completely forgotten Tessa’s attempt to expand her real estate portfolio by tempting you with an even bigger sunroom than the one you and Andrei had now.

You shake your head. “No no, I don’t want that house.”

“But you do want a house?” Andrei inquires.

You shake your head, nerves suddenly racing through your veins. It makes your hands shake, so you reach out for him, cupping his jaw with your hand, leaving the other resting in your lap. You thumb over the stubble along his jaw, humming to yourself, trying to gather the right words.

It makes Andrei nervous. “Listen, almaznyy, whatever it is, we-”

“I want this house, Bubby,” you interrupt, wanting to be out with it but also not sure if you were remotely prepared for the rest of his sentence. At the pet name, Andrei’s eyes get brighter, his entire demeanor softening. “I want this house, with you and I in it, and maybe…maybe a little one running around in it, too.”

There. You said it…kind of.

But it was out there now.

And Andrei…

There’s surprise in his face, definitely, and you’d been expecting that. But there’s also no…opposition. Nothing that says he doesn’t want to have this conversation, nothing that screams disagreement, nothing that says he doesn’t like the idea.

There are nerves there, like yours, but amongst the nerves and surprise is…hope? Something wistful.

You lean into it, trailing your hand from his face to his arm, then down to the desk where his hand rests beside your legs. You take it, intertwining your fingers, playing with his hand a little.

“Bubby,” you continue. And that time you’re definitely playing dirty, saying one of his favorite pet names like that, like you want something - which you do, no question - and it makes Andrei’s whole body relax. “I want a baby,” you say, this time, plainly, so there’s no question and no doubt. “I want to have a baby with you.” You glance up at him, finding his intense gaze already on you. “What do you think?”

He’s quiet for a moment, and if you didn’t already know your husband, his lack of a response might concern you. But the look on his face tells you that he’s thinking, and so you wait, giving him enough space and time to collect his thoughts.

Finally, he squeezes your hand, a little sigh of relief mixed with a laugh leaving his chest, eyes crinkling at the corners as a brilliant smile takes over his features. He says nothing, just maneuvers you to part your legs so he can haul you off the desk and into his lap. You go to him easily, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face into his neck, breathing him in. One of his arms bands itself across your waist, the other across your back so he can cradle the back of your head in his hands.

“I didn’t know how to ask you.” He says softly into your ear. “I’ve been thinking about it, too. How to ask…how to tell you…”

“Ya tozhe,” you tell him. Me too. “I didn’t know if it was something you wanted.”

“We never talked about it,” he agrees. “And we should have, and I’m sorry we didn’t.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, malysh. We’re talking about it now, aren’t we?” You say, pressing a small kiss to his jaw.

He tightens his grip on you. “Because you were brave enough to do it. You’ve always been the brave one of the two of us, almaznyy.”

“You were the one who brought us together, Andrei.” You remind him, “I couldn’t have done that. Only you could have, and you did.”

“I would do it again.” He swears, leaning back a little to press a kiss to your forehead.

You pull back a little, puckering your lips, and he laughs, leaning down to kiss you softly, gently, and like he has all the time in the world. You love when he kisses you like this, like he’s afraid you’ll break or disappear into thin air. It makes you feel precious, like the very diamond he continues to call you.

“Bubby,” you murmur between kisses, “how many babies do you want?”

There’s a choked noise that bubbles in his throat, so you pull back, looking at him in concern. He reaches for his scotch, but you bat his hand away, handing him the bottle of water he always keeps on his desk instead.

He takes a couple of grateful swigs, and much to his disappointment, you climb off of him and climb back to your perch on his desk, giving him some room to breathe.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “Didn’t mean to take you by surprise there.”

Andrei shakes his head, putting the closed water bottle down and reaches for his glass, downing the rest of its contents. When it's empty, you take it back from him, putting it on a far enough corner of his desk before reaching for your glass, taking down the rest of your margarita, then set the empty glass next to Andrei’s. Once those are out of the way, you lean back on your hands, your attention solely on Andrei once more.

He’s got a little glint in his eye as he considers you, letting one of his hands come up to rest on your legs, caressing your skin. “You know me, almaznyy. I’m not picky.” He starts. “I’ll be satisfied with as many babies as you’re willing to give me.”

You smile, pleased with his answer. In reward, you nudge the hand he has on your leg a little, and Andrei beams, gently grabbing your calf so he can part your legs, this time, to take in the sight of your bare pussy.

Carefully, you pull up the hem of your dress and push yourself to the edge of his desk, and Andrei takes your ankles, gently placing one on the armrest of his chair, putting the other over his shoulder. He scoots his chair in closer, your leg sliding down his back a little and allowing his hands to rest on your hips.

“We should…” he starts, swallowing. “We should probably talk about this a little more.”

You smirk. “We are talking, though.”

“In depth,” he clarifies. “Get into specifics, and things.”

But even as he says it, you can see in his face you probably wouldn’t get further than the next five minutes. “We can still talk about it after, too, okay? We’ll sit and have a real conversation about it.”

He blinks, nodding, then glances down at where you know he wants to bury his face.

“If you wanted a baby, almaznyy,” he says, warm breath fanning over your lower abdomen, “you didn’t have to play dirty.”

“Dirty?” You ask, innocent as ever. “What do you mean?”

Andrei narrows his eyes at you. “The first time you walked into this office on a mission, you were dressed just like this.”

“You mean when I used to be your assistant?” You tease, and he pinches your thigh playfully.

“Moya zhena,” he warns. He may be playful, but it seems you’ve pushed a few too many buttons in that area today.

Shame, you think. Maybe I can try again after dinner.

You roll your eyes playfully, pouting a little. “I was nervous and needed some confidence, alright?”

“You look plenty confident to me,” he reassures you with a slight nod, then he’s bunching up the fabric of your dress and pressing against your stomach, his nice way of saying ‘lay back moya zhena, let me take care of you.’

The first swipe of his tongue in your folds takes you by surprise, a pleasant squeal leaving your lips and echoing around his office. His second taste of you is slower, his tongue laying flat against you and dragging from your entrance to your clit, his lips circling around the bud and sucking in a way that elicits a pleasant moan from you.

Andrei’s hands crawl up your body to the neckline of your dress, and you help him a little, slipping the straps off so he can pull the neckline down, cupping your tits in his hands and squeezing.

He’d been particularly fond of the first time you’d had sex in this house together. Had cherished the memory of you in that light pink sundress and on this desk in a similar fashion. It was probably why you’d chosen to approach him this way, he thinks absentmindedly, lips and mouth settling into the familiar pace you love when he’s got his face between your thighs.

Andrei can feel his pants get a little tighter the wetter you get, his chin coated in your slick and nose nudging against your clit as his lips and tongue work you open. He’s so perfectly at peace here, totally content to just lick at you and taste you for hours at a time that he nearly forgets why you’re sprawled out on his desk like this.

You tugging at his hair serves as a gentle reminder that kicks him into gear, and he smiles against your skin, pressing kisses to the junction of your thighs and nipping at you a little.

“Andrei,” you say, breathless. “Potoropites', pozhaluysta.” Hurry up, please.

He shakes his head, gently letting your legs fall to the side as he sits up in his chair, draping his body over yours. “Not this time, almaznyy,” he says, wrapping your arms around his neck before he wraps his own arms around your back, cupping your ass in his hands.

Your brain kicks into gear just in time for you to wrap your legs around his waist, and then he’s lifting you up, pressing filthy open mouth kisses to your neck as he navigates the hallway carefully, taking the measured and familiar steps to your bedroom.

He lays you gently on the mattress, placing you delicately among the pillows before he’s shedding his shirt and pants, kicking his boxer briefs off to the side and then settling back between your legs.

This time, your thighs squeeze at his head when he sucks your pussy into his mouth particularly hard, tongue dipping inside of you, and your fingers fly into his hair, scratching at his scalp in warning.

“Behave, moy muzh.” you hiss through gritted teeth, even if the way you writhe against his face tells him you like it.

“You started it,” he reminds you, tugging on the dress resting around your middle. You huff, grabbing the bottom and peeling it off, tossing it in the direction of Andrei’s pile of clothes.

Your eyes sparkle with mischief when you watch the way he takes in the sight of your naked body. No matter how many times the two of you do this, Andrei always looks at you the same way.

Like he’s in love, like it’s the first time, like for all he wants to take you apart, the way he’ll put you back together will be well worth it, and if it isn’t, he’ll work for it until it is.

“Pridi ko mne, lyubov' moya,” you beckon him. Come to me, my love.

His bottom lip drags against your clit as he rises from his position, tongue darting out to lick at your arousal still coating his lips, and the sight alone licks at the flame of arousal sparking low in your belly.

When he crawls up your body to kiss you, he props himself up on his arms, not wanting to rest his full weight on you, his delicate little almaznyy. Normally, you love it, but right now, you need something a little different.

Your arms wrap around his neck as you seize his mouth in a bruising, desperate kiss, pulling him down to you and taking him by surprise as you manage to flip him onto his back on the way down. You take full advantage of his surprise by making your way down his body to settle between his legs, wrapping your fist around his cock and taking him into your mouth.

Andrei groans, sitting up on his elbows to watch you.

“I don’t know if we’ll be able to make a baby if you keep doing that,” he warns, cock throbbing against your tongue as if to emphasize his point.

You bat your eyelashes at him, sucking at the head of his cock and using your hands to stroke at him at the same time. He hisses, one of his hands flying to rest in your hair, the other resting behind his head and emphasizing the chiseled muscles of his arms, chest, and abdomen.

Sometimes, you couldn’t believe this man was your husband.

“Almaznyy,” he warns when you take him down your throat, swallowing around him. You’re slow to come off his cock, letting him leave your lips with a dramatic ‘pop.’

“I’m still on birth control,” you tell him. “So we can’t make a baby tonight anyway, probably not for another month, at least.”

His brows furrow, both from your statement and the way you twist your wrist, stroking his cock the way you know he likes. “Then what - ah yebat’ - what are we doing?” He asks, trying to focus on the conversation as you take him back in your throat. You hum a little, and he tugs on the strands of your hair again in warning.

You pull off of him, gently stroking your hand up and down, squeezing as you go. “Practicing, of course.”

He lets his arms fall out beside him, collapsing against the pillows and dragging his hands over his eyes. “Almaznyy,” he huffs, hips stuttering when you squeeze him at the base.

“Hmm?” You hum, ready to take him in your mouth again, but Andrei moves quickly, hauling you up his body and cradling you close as he flips you over again. He positions you among the pillows, placing one under your waist so you’re practically propped up for him. He positions himself so his arms rest in the crook of your knees, your ankles near his head as he folds his body over yours.

He takes his cock in his hand, running the head through your folds. “Practice?”

You nod, “Practice, for now.” You reach out, pushing his hand out of the way so you can line his cock up with your entrance. “Which is why the desk was perfectly good, and-”

The rest of your words are stolen from you when Andrei bats your hand away gently and slides inside of you, slow but precise, bottoming out and nestling his body close to yours. Your eyes flutter shut when you squeeze around him, and his hands come up, cradling the sides of your face as he murmurs encouraging words to you, staying still until you’ve adjusted to his size.

“Almaznyy,” he calls, and your eyes blink open, glazed over and hazy and you’ve barely even started. “Good?”

You nod, tilting your hips a little, trying to fuck yourself on his cock. He laughs a little, shaking his head. “So damn impatient.”

He raises his body off of yours a little, angling his hips and setting a steady pace, one that has you whining in protest almost immediately, grabbing at the muscles of his ass and trying to drag him closer.

“I won’t break Andrei-” you start, but he cuts you off with a particularly hard thrust that has your eyes rolling back into your head.

“I don’t care if it’s just practice, almaznyy.” He tells you, “and I don’t care how many times we have to practice. I’m going to make it last, and I’m going to make sure that you remember all the ways I fuck you and make love to you until I put a baby in you.”

You gasp a little, and Andrei smiles to himself, thoroughly pleased. He sits up, placing his hands on the backs of your thighs and settling in to fuck you just the way you like. He fucks you in deep, strong strokes, the head of his cock brushing up against that sensitive spot in your pussy every single time.

It steals your breath from you, and all the telltale signs of an orgasm approaching signal to Andrei like a beacon. The way your breathing catches in your throat, the way you can’t keep your eyes open, how your legs start to shake.

He takes his thumb and rests it on your clit, rubbing in lazy circles until your back arches off the bed, a satisfied cry echoing out of your throat and into the pillows beside your head when you come. Your pussy squeezes down in a way that makes Andrei’s head go dizzy, and then he’s coming with a groan, pushing your hips down onto him as he buries himself to the hilt, his orgasm sudden and a shock to his system.

It takes him a second to catch his breath, and moves your legs off of his shoulders to make it easier to pull out of you and give you reprieve, but a noise of protest leaves your throat, and your ankles lock at the base of his spine.

He pauses, glancing at you curiously when he notices the look on your face.

Andrei thinks back to before you left for San Jose, the day he took you in the shower, and how upset you’d been when he set you down on your feet.

It clicks in his head, then. What you’d been upset about.

He’s still hard - he’s practically always hard when he’s around you - so he moves his hips, slowly pulling back an inch before pushing back inside. You throw your head back, his name leaving your lips in relief, and he smirks.

Fucking you in shallow thrusts, thumb circling your clit, Andrei watches in fascination as he pushes his come back inside of you with his cock, watches the way your pretty face twists in pleasure, and hums satisfactorily to himself.

“Is this what you’ve been needing, moya zhena?” He asks, eyes on yours the whole time. “How long have you wanted this?”

You can barely answer him, your head thrown back against the pillows, eyes squeezed shut, brows furrowed, back still arched and pushing those beautiful tits of yours up. Andrei takes them in his hands, massaging them, and you keen, pushing into his hands and pussy trying to retreat from his cock with nowhere to go.

The sensation feels different for him. He’s hypersensitive now, all too away of the slick slide of his cock, of your mixed come leaking out of you before he pushes back in, feels heat begin to prick at his skin when your pussy continues to flutter and squeeze, like it’s trying to keep him inside of you. With every brush of his finger over your nipples, your pussy squeezes and you try to pull off of him, but in the next breath you’re winding your hips, pushing back down until he’s buried to the hilt.

Andrei pushes your legs up again before he rests his weight on you gently, his shoulders under your knees, burying his face in your neck and placing his hands under your ass, cradling you closer to him as he starts to fuck you in deeper strokes, drowning in the pleased little noises leaving your lips.

“Ty chuvstvuyesh' sebya tak khorosho, dorogaya,” he murmurs against your neck. You feel so good, darling.

“Andrei,” you finally manage to breathe out, and relief floods through his veins. There were times when you two made love that you got so lost in the pleasure that you couldn’t speak to him, and it worried Andrei to no end. But you always came back to him, always called for him, and the same calm washes over his body, a shiver running up his spine.

Your arms come up, wrapping around his neck and arching your back, giving him more access to you. Andrei hums, pleased, sucking a bruise into your skin while his cock starts to throb from where he’s fucking you, can feel a second orgasm creeping up when he bites down gently, raking his teeth over the sensitive skin and you start to squeeze and clench around him.

“Gonna come again, almaznyy?” He asks, nosing along your jaw. “Want me to come again, too?”

You nod, turning your head and Andrei meets you, slotting your lips together and swallowing your moans down when you shake gently beneath him, back arching and pushing your body closer to his. His eyes squeeze shut, electricity zipping up his spine when your orgasm tips him over the edge and he’s spilling into you again, groaning against your jaw.

His arms come out from under you and he gently eases your legs back down against the bed, massaging the muscles as he does. Instead of resting them against the bed though, you wrap your legs around his waist, locking your ankles at his lower back, and Andrei laughs.

Gently, he rolls you both until he’s laying underneath you instead, careful to keep himself nestled inside of you, and he smiles to himself when you do a half cat-like stretch before sprawling across his chest.

A pleased little exhale greets his ears after a moment, and his hand comes up, rubbing gentle circles in your back. “Made you lunch,” you tell him, voice hoarse. “‘S in the kitchen.”

“Spasibo, almaznyy.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “We should go eat it then, it’s probably cold by now.”

“It’s the chicken caesar salad wraps you like.” You say, lips dragging across his chest as you speak. “And I made strawberry lemonade this morning, should be ready by now.”

He nods, tapping your flank gently. “We should get up, malyshka. Get cleaned up.”

You nod, but you’ve got that look in your eye like before, like you’re disappointed as you carefully lift yourself off of him and roll onto the mattress beside him. Andrei rolls onto his side, cradling your face in his hands. “What’s wrong, moya zhena?”

You shake your head, a small smile gracing your lips. “Nothing’s wrong, just…excited, is all.”

“Excited?”

“To start a family with you,” you clarify.

“Then why do you look so sad?” He wonders, thumbing at the pout in your bottom lip.

You laugh, nose scrunching a little before cuddling into him. “It’s silly - I just wanted to start now.”

“It’s only a month, right?” He asks. You nod, nose rubbing at his pec, and he smiles to himself. “That’s good - plenty of time for us to practice, then? Wanna make sure we get it right on the first try.”

You snort. “Perfektsionist.” Perfectionist.

“Only the best for you, moya zhena.” Andrei says, teasing. Underneath it though, you both know that he’s serious. Because if anything, even as he rises from the bed and lifts you in his arms, carrying you into the bathroom, you know he never does anything half assed.

Now that you’re both on the same page, he’s going to do everything he can to ensure you’re well looked after from beginning to end, and when your little baby eventually comes, he’s going to work twice as hard to make sure the both of you are taken care of, and that you’ll want for nothing.

You, his almaznyy, and your future child, his malen'kaya rubin. His little ruby.

#andrei svechnikov #anderi svechnikov x reader #andrei svechnikov fic #carolina hurricanes #mendeshoney masterlist

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mendeshoney · 9 months ago

Text

you know my weakness is you (act two)

author's note: um...hello? is this thing on? sorry i've been away and that it took me a literal year and a few days to post part two to this story. also i meant to post this eariler but i am at home visiting family so i didn't realize this was not queued to post in est until literally right now. i appreciate everyone's love and patience in the meantime and hope you enjoy!

as a reminder - this character is a WOC and is plus sized bc...well, that's what I know as a person and it's kinda time I start actually trying to write like it. so let's just pretend there's a world where POC plus sized hockey wags can exist, mkay? i'm also manipulating some of the other wags of the team, so, that is also happening.

tags/warnings in no particular order: 18+, angst, enemies to lovers, miscommunication, unintentional secrets, insecurity, original female character, WOC character, consensual unprotected sex

word count: ~14,125

(read act one here)

When Mat sleeps, he dreams of Summer.

Mat dreams of her, craves her, wants nothing more than to have and to hold her.

He dreams of the words his captain spoke to him almost a week ago.

I’m telling you not to take this risk. This whole ‘I hate you but now I like you’ risk. And especially not with Summer.

She can’t go through that again.

And whether you want to admit it or not, there’s something between the two of you, and if it goes wrong, it’s going to be really, really bad.

If you’re not serious about her, leave her alone.

He thinks back through all of the horrible things he’d ever said to her, how even though he knew in his heart he was miles ahead of her shitty ex, he still wasn’t the type of person to deserve her, but dammit, that didn’t mean he wasn’t about to try.

Mat knows that he seriously wants Summer. Wants her desperately, has wanted her since the moment they met even though she pushed him away. And he’d wanted just one chance to prove to her that he’d make it worth her while, and he got more than enough.

Except now, it seemed his captain was going to be the one to put a stop to it.

After Mat had slept with Summer and Anders had given Mat his words of warning, the captain backed it up after practice a couple of days later, making it very clear to Mat how he felt about the idea.

“I can see in your eyes you’re not hearing what I said, so I’ll repeat it. Stay away from Summer.”

Mat had blinked at Anders, completely shocked and also thankful they were having this discussion away from the rest of the team.

“What?”

“Stay away, Mat.” Anders repeated, more serious and almost angry. “It’s not that I don’t like you, and it’s not that I don’t think you’re a good person. But you cannot be with Summer. At all.”

Mat bit back his snarky response, instead choosing his words carefully. “Is this about Sabrina?”

Anders shook his head. “This isn’t about Sabrina. This is about Summer.”

“What, are you in love with her or something?”

That was probably the wrong thing to say. Anders’ nostrils flared and he narrowed his eyes at Mat, jabbing a finger into Mat’s chest.

“Listen, Mat. I’ve known Summer since she was sixteen, she’s been my little sister in every sense of the word just as much as she’s been Sabrina’s, and I’ve seen her go through way too much and put up with way too much to allow you to come in just because she’s suddenly single and you’ve suddenly got the notion that you can do better than her ex boyfriend. I’m telling you right now, based on what I’ve seen? How your dynamic works? You can’t. And I don’t want you dating her.”

“That’s not up to you.” Mat said, moving Anders’ hand away. “That’s Summer’s choice. If she wants to be with me, she can be.”

“Then make it her choice not to be with you.” His captain responded, and it was exactly the ultimatum it sounded like.

“And how do you propose I do that?” Mat bit back sarcastically.

“You’ve been bickering since you met, and you’ve not done a single thing for her that shows that you care about her, or that you like her. Just because you slept with her once doesn’t mean you’re in love and need to be in a relationship. That’s not how it works.”

Mat scoffed. “Why are you speaking to me like I’m a kid?”

“Because you’re acting like one.” Anders spat. “You’re acting like a child who thinks he’s in love after one time.”

“What if I’ve loved her the whole time?” Mat countered, completely serious.

Anders didn’t even blink, just laughed and shook his head. “Love? You’re joking, right? None of what you have is love, Mat. It’s not, it never has been, and it never will be. I’m telling you right now, before you take it any further, before it gets too deep. Stay. Away.”

Before Mat could respond, could tell Anders to either go fuck himself or try to plead his case, his captain walked away, and Mat knew in his gut he meant every word.

But…it already is too deep.

And he’s about to disobey his captain.

Despite her better judgment, Summer finds herself smiling when she walks into the small cafe shop, seeing Mat tucked into a table in the corner with her favorite iced coffee and favorite breakfast plate already ordered and sitting in front of him alongside his own order.

He’d texted her this morning, almost a week since they’d last seen one another, suggesting that they meet up to talk about what had happened in her room at Sabrina’s house.

When he’d given her the best two orgasms she’d ever had in her life, then asked her not to run, admitted to her that he liked her.

Mat Barzal.

Liked her.

The thought made her both giddy and confused at the same time, admittedly completely unfamiliar with the rush of butterflies she’d been feeling everytime she found herself thinking about Mat, or reading a text from him.

They hadn’t seen each other since that time in her bedroom, Mat being too busy with pre-season training and practice, and Summer didn’t completely mind it. She had work as well, and was still helping Sabrina and Anders out with their wedding planning.

Even so, seeing him after a week almost felt like she hadn’t seen him in months, and Summer knew in her heart that was probably something she should pay attention to a little more.

The butterflies, the anticipation, the giddiness - it was all quite a bit considering their history, but there was a part of it that just kind of…made sense?

Sabrina had teased her the night before when she’d been over to help her finalize the floral arrangement details. “It’s like when mom used to tell us that the boys who picked on us only did it because they liked us.”

Summer had laughed a little, and Anders, who had been sitting with them to finalize the boutonniere designs for the men’s tuxedos, had scoffed. “They’re not kids though, babe.”

Anders had seemed…apprehensive, to say the least, about her and Mat, but when Summer had asked him about it, Anders had just said “I’m not worried,�� so she left it at that. Whatever it meant.

The closer she got to the table where Mat was sitting though, the more all of her concerns and worries faded away.

Mat looks up as she approaches, pocketing his phone and giving Summer a wide smile. He stands to greet her, his hands cupping her face and offering her sweet kisses, murmuring how he thinks she looks pretty today in between each peck.

She’s sure she’s blushing beneath the bronze of her skin, and the smile she gives him in return is probably showing just how happy she feels at this moment.

“I’m sorry,” she says, “I hope you weren’t waiting long.”

“No need to be sorry princess,” he says. “You’re right on time.”

Summer smiles, taking her seat across from him and taking a sip of her coffee.

Mat watches her with a smile on his face, laying his hand out on the table, palm up. She raises a brow, but puts her hand in his anyway, waiting.

“We should probably talk about all this, shouldn’t we?” He says.

Summer shrugs, “If you want to.”

“I just want to know that you want this, too.” Mat offers, playing with the rings decorating her fingers. “We don’t have to talk, because as far as I’m concerned, if we both want this, then there’s nothing to talk about.”

She assesses Mat quietly as she takes in his words, thinking about the dynamics of their relationship.

“I think we maybe owe it to each other to at least clear the air, don’t you?”

He nods, thumb rubbing the back of her hand gently. “I’ll start. I never hated you, not even a little bit. You got on my nerves a little, but I never hated you. I think I just acted that way because I thought you hated me first.”

Summer blinks a little, not expecting that right away. “I didn’t hate you, Mat.”

“It kind of felt like it.” He admits, but his eyes are playful, letting Summer know he’s not upset by it.

She thinks back to the day they met. His curious gaze as it ran over her body, how back then she couldn’t handle scrutiny like that from anyone, good or bad, because she could only ever see it as bad.

A man like Mat looking at a plus size woman of color like Summer didn’t exactly always spell out happy endings.

She’d let her insecurities get the better of her then, let it push them both into something that maybe neither of them wanted.

But still, they’d gotten here in the end, didn’t they?

“I think I just…I think we got off on the wrong foot.” She admits. “I never hated you either, I think I just felt…unsure.”

“Of me?”

“Maybe you, maybe myself. I don’t know.” She says.

“Well now that it’s established that we don’t hate each other, and that you know that I like you, how do you feel?”

Butterflies.

Anticipation.

Giddiness.

Like a teenager in love for the first time.

Summer ignores all of that and shrugs playfully. “I suppose I might like you, too.”

The kilowatt smile that breaks out on Mat’s face is one Summer is probably going to remember for the rest of her life. He’s looking at her like she just hung the sun, moon, and the stars in the galaxy, crafting the heavens and given it to him.

“I can work with that.” He says, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing the back of it gently. “I’ll be happy to work with that.”

Her heart hammers in her chest, and as they dig into their breakfast, she can’t help but feel like she should’ve made this decision a lot sooner.

Mat wakes up to Summer cuddled against his side, and he quickly silences his alarm, wishing for nothing more than the opportunity to lay in bed with her for the rest of the day - the rest of time at this point.

Carefully, he untangles himself from her, making sure she’s sound asleep and tucked back in while he heads to the bathroom to start getting ready for training and practice. Once he’s brushed his teeth, he heads out and into the kitchen, going about making himself breakfast and getting food ready for Summer for when she wakes up later.

He checks his phone, spotting a text from Anders in the team group chat reminding everyone of the start time today at the facility.

Mat tries not to get pissed off before the day even starts.

Anders has been nothing but a pain in his ass since he and Summer started seeing one another, almost as if he knows Mat never had any intention of listening to him and knows that Summer’s been in his bed nearly every night since that conversation.

Whatever. Mat doesn’t give a shit.

He’s not a kid, Anders isn’t his dad, and he’s not Summer’s keeper. He and Summer can do whatever they want, and if Anders wants to throw his weight around as captain Mat can handle it, but he’s not giving Summer up.

Once he’s about ready to go, he heads back into his bedroom to grab a hoodie and his gym bag, surprised to find that Summer’s awake, laying on her side, putting her phone down and greeting him with a soft smile when he steps inside.

Mat’s heart literally nearly leaps from his chest to lay at her side.

Her curly hair rests on the pillow beneath her like a gentle halo, full breasts pushing at the fabric of Mat’s shirt she wore to bed. His shirt’s risen up a little and is showing a glimpse of the skin of her stomach, the blankets pooled a little bit above her waist.

She beckons Mat to her playfully, and he goes easily, climbing onto the bed and kissing her without a second to waste, slightly surprised by the minty taste of her mouth.

“You've been up long?” He murmurs to her, and she shakes her head.

“Maybe about ten minutes or so?” She says. “I thought you’d already left, so I was getting ready to go see Sabrina.”

“More wedding stuff today?” He asks, bending his head and pushing her hair over her shoulder so he can leave soft kisses on her neck.

She nods, letting out content sounds as his lips move. “Yeah, figuring out the seating chart for Anders’ side.”

Mat pauses at that, and pulls back, staring at Summer curiously. She hadn’t mentioned anything about Anders voicing his recent distaste for Mat to her, but still.

“Has he been different towards you? You know, since we…” His voice trails off.

Summer shakes her head. “Not really? He seemed apprehensive about it, but he hasn’t been different. Why? Has he said something to you?”

Mat hesitates, unsure of what and how much to tell Summer.

“He’s…not exactly happy about the two of us at the minute.” Mat begins, but as he speaks, he can see the fire in Summer’s eyes begin to build. Since he’s all too familiar with where that might lead, he immediately backtracks, making the decision to not tell her the whole truth. “It’s fine, just…maybe don’t talk about us in front of or around him for now, okay?”

“Don’t?” Summer asks, and at the fact that Mat can see the fire dissipate for a little, he nods, still careful with his words.

“Not that I want to keep us a secret, or anything like that, I just don’t want him to say something to you about it, or have him get upset at you. He’s just trying to be a good brother in law, is all, I’m sure. Just let me handle it, okay?”

Summer nods, smiling sweetly. “Okay, I won’t say anything, I promise.”

Mat smiles, kissing her again, not complaining when Summer turns the kiss a little dirty, running her tongue against his lips gently. He pulls away again, quickly checking the time on his phone and smirking when he sees he’s got about fifteen minutes before he absolutely has to leave.

He really only needs five.

When he looks back at her, he’s got a cheshire grin on his face that Summer’s eyes twinkle at.

“Are you still in the same state you went to bed in?” He asks.

Summer smiles, nodding. Mat immediately rips the covers off of her, exposing her bare lower half, and Mat’s cock throbs at the memory.

Last night, after they’d showered and gotten ready for bed, Mat had cuddled up against her, wrapped her in his arms and tried very hard to not focus on how soft she felt against him, about how good it felt to have her there, how warm her body was.

She’d rested her leg on his waist, propping herself open, and Mat had dipped his fingers under the blanket to play with her, his sanity completely disappearing when he felt how wet she was for him. He’d torn her underwear off her not long after, fucking her slow and gentle until she shook in his embrace, his name falling from her lips in satisfaction.

Now, he shuffles himself down the bed till he’s nestled between her beautiful thighs, and Summer looks down at him curiously.

“Thought you had to leave for practice?”

“I’ve got plenty of time,” he says. “Plus, this is way more important than practice.”

Summer starts to protest, maybe to say something smart back to him, but whatever her response was going to be dies on her lips the second Mat’s mouth latches onto her skin.

Summer feels like she’s practically skipping as she heads into Sabrina’s house, bouncing off the balls of her feet in happiness.

After Mat had managed to coax about three orgasms out of her just with his mouth and fingers before leaving for practice this morning, she felt like she could just about do anything. Especially with the way he speaks to her the whole time.

She’d enjoyed bickering with him before all of this, but it wasn’t until she reflected on the first two times they’d fooled around that she realized Mat loves dirty talk, and that he’s particularly good at it.

The second she enters Sabrina’s house though, she shoves those thoughts aside and tries to tone down the happiness, especially with Sabrina staring at Summer like she’s got three heads.

“What are you so chipper about this morning?” Sabrina asks, eyeing her over the rim of her mug as she sips her coffee.

“Nothing,” Summer dismisses all too quickly.

“Mhm,” Sabrina says, raising a brow. “Wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain winger, would it?”

“Maybe it does, maybe it doesn’t.” She responds, resting her purse on the counter and going about making a cup of coffee for herself.

“How are you two doing?”

“We’re fine,” Summer says. “Happy.”

“That’s good,” Sabrina says genuinely. “I’m glad. Anders will be happy to know you haven’t killed each other.”

At that, Summer remembers Mat’s words from this morning, and turns to her sister with a slightly serious expression. “Could you maybe…not tell him?”

Sabrina blinks at Summer. “Why?”

“I just…I know how protective he is, and I don’t think he’s a fan of the idea. I just don’t want to put Mat in a bad spot. Could you maybe just…keep it to yourself? About Mat and I?”

“You want me to keep it from my husband that my little sister and his star winger are dating?”

Summer sighs. “Please, Sabi? Just this once, I am asking you not to tell your husband every little thing about your life and mine.”

Sabrina eyes her warily, but agrees. “Alright. But is this because Mat doesn’t want anyone to know you’re dating? Or something else?”

“It’s like I said, Anders is protective, he’s not a fan, and the season’s about to start. I don’t want to put Mat in a bad spot.”

Summer can see that there’s something in Sabrina’s eyes that makes her want to push this more, to understand, but thankfully, she drops it.

Truthfully, she’s not sure where Anders’ apprehension is coming from, or why, but it’s clear he and Mat are at odds about it, and Summer trusts Mat enough to handle it, and enjoy their time together in the meantime.

After practice, as Mat is walking out to his car, he hears Anders’ call his name. Internally, he groans, not wanting to deal with his bullshit right now, but he knows it’s better to just get this over with now so he doesn’t have to put up with it for the rest of the season.

He turns, his face completely deadpan as Anders approaches.

“Did you think about what I said?” Anders asks.

Mat rolls his eyes. “Yeah, been thinking about it non-stop.”

Anders doesn’t look amused. “I wasn’t joking, Mat. I meant it.”

Mat feels the instinct to ball his fists, but he refrains.

He doesn’t care that this is his friend and captain, and doesn't care how long Anders has known Summer. Anders doesn’t get to just rock up and tell Mat who he can and can’t have feelings for.

Whatever Mat and Summer’s relationship was like in the past is theirs to work through, and if Anders doesn’t like it, then fine.

He doesn’t need to fucking know.

“I’m aware.” Mat says. “I took care of it.”

Anders raises an eyebrow. “Took care of what?”

“We’re not together.” Mat says, the lie slipping easily through his teeth. “We’re not dating, not seeing each other, not falling in love, just like you asked. Your precious sister in law is perfectly fine high in her tower.”

Anders stares at him, probably gauging to see if he’s telling the truth, but Mat’s expression doesn’t falter. After a few moments, Anders visibly relaxes. “You two fought again, didn’t you?”

Mat scoffs. “Maybe we did, maybe we didn’t. That’s not the point. The point is you got what you wanted.”

“It’s for the best, Mat.” Anders insists, reaching out to rest a “captainly” hand on Mat’s shoulder, but Mat steps away, shaking his head.

“Whatever. See you tomorrow.”

Mat gets in his car, pulling out of the team lot and heading home, a smug feeling settling in his chest that Anders has no idea Summer will most definitely be waiting for him when he gets there.

“You got a little something on your face, Princess” Mat says, “Riiight…here,” and leaning in, he drops his spoon into his bowl of ice cream, grabs Summer’s face between his hands, and peppers kisses all over her face, working from one corner of her mouth to the other.

Summer giggles wildly beneath his lips, eyes shut tight as she tries to hold onto her own bowl and spoon under the assault of Mat’s kisses.

She felt like her laugh lines were getting deeper and deeper with each passing day she spent with Mat, wrapped up in his embrace or under the constant receiving end of his affection and attention. It had been a little over a month of this now, this work in progress relationship.

From what she knew, things between Anders and Mat were still a bit tense, but Mat reassured her that things were fine. It was just Anders finding it difficult to have a teammate date a family member, Mat had explained to her, and that he just needed time to come to terms with it. Summer could understand, so to be safe, and to make it easier on everyone, she continued to avoid speaking about Mat around Anders, and even shared a little less with Sabrina, just in case.

Knowing Sabrina, it only took a couple of glasses of wine for her to spill the beans, so it was better to say less than say more.

There had been a couple of times that they’d all been at Anders and Sabrina’s house, Summer there for wedding things and Mat there for team things, when they’d sneak off and fool around for a little bit with no one being the wiser, but Summer found it more fun than anything.

They’d just gotten back from a dinner date a little bit ago, Mat making them ice cream sundaes to have for dessert before bed after Summer admitted she had a small craving.

Once he finishes his onslaught of kisses, Mat reaches for the canister of whipped cream, spraying a little more onto her bowl and his own before digging back in.

The TV’s playing a movie on Netflix, and when he turns his attention back to the screen, it brings Summer’s eyes to the time on his DVR box.

“Don’t forget we have dinner tomorrow night at Sabrina and Anders’ house.”

Mat groans. “Their pre-wedding late engagement party thing, right?”

Summer hums in confirmation, taking another bite of her ice cream. “Yeah. They didn’t throw one when they first got engaged since they were in Marbella, so they’re having it now while some of Anders’ family is in town for the home opener.”

“Speaking of the home opener,” Mat says, then puts his bowl down, walking off to his room before coming back, an Islanders Pro Shop bag in his hand. He hands it to Summer, who eyes it warily.

“Is this what I think it is?” She asks.

Mat shrugs, grabbing his bowl and digging back in. “What do you think it is?”

“An Islanders branded dildo?”

Mat chokes in surprise as Summer laughs, enjoying how easy it is to make him flustered.

She turns the bag upside down and is only mildly surprised when the jersey falls into her lap, the bright blue and orange and white staring at her like a neon sign.

“Would you prefer that I wear this?” She asks. “Are you going to ask me to only wear this once we get back home?”

Mat laughs, shaking his head as he puts his finally empty bowl to the side. “You wear whatever you want, baby, however you want to wear it.”

Summer smiles at him, then pauses. “Wearing this to the game probably wouldn’t be a good idea, what with Anders and all.”

Mat frowns. He’d clearly forgotten about that part, but shrugs. He reaches over, playing with the hem of Summer’s dress where it rests against her thigh. “Then I suppose you will have to wear it once we get home.”

Summer smirks as Mat moves and wraps a hand around her ankle, maneuvering her until she’s laying with her back on the floor, watching him through curious eyes.

“And what else would you propose I wear?” She asks, watching as Mat removes her underwear and then reaches for the whipped cream canister, squirting out a dollop onto her clit.

“Nothing, if we’re being honest.” He says, rearranging himself to lay between her legs. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Princess, it’s a little rude to talk with my mouth full.”

Summer’s giggles dissipate into moans as Mat’s tongue licks away the whipped cream, the fabric of his jersey gripped tightly between her fingers as he enjoys his second dessert.

Mat leans back against the sofa in Sabrina and Anders’ living room, a little bit of tension leaving his shoulders now that Anders’ family has left and it’s just a few guys from the team, some of Sabrina’s friends, and Summer left behind.

Everyone’s settled into the living room to wind down and chat a little before they all head home, and Mat watches as Anders’ has to keep a hand on Sabrina’s waist while she sits down. Summer told him that she’d had three glasses of wine because of how nervous she still got around Anders’ family, but it hardly affected her throughout the night. Now though, it seemed that since his family was gone, the anxiety and nerves were also gone, and the wine was catching up to her pretty quickly.

Summer was the last to make her way into the living room, and after a quick scan, found the only open seat left was next to Mat on the sofa. He was aware of Anders’ stare the entire time Summer made her way over, only breaking away once Summer sat down and Sabrina said something to him.

Mat barely listened to the conversation going on around him, too aware of the fact that Anders was watching them both like a hawk and that he was trying his best to behave.

At one point, Summer must have started to feel exhausted, because he could hear the way her breathing began to even out, and then, her head gently landed on his shoulder. Tito saw it as well from his spot, and smiled at Mat.

That drew Sabrina’s attention, and she cooed, reaching out to gently wake Summer.

“Been a long day hasn’t it babes?” Sabrina asked, and Summer blinked the sleep out of her eyes.

“Sorry,” she says, then recognizing she’s still leaning against Mat, she blushes, smiling shyly when she repeats “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he assures, trying to seem flippant about it. “I don’t mind.”

“You two are such a cute couple.” Sabrina says through a laugh as she observes them, and the silence that follows is almost deafening.

“Who?” Tito asks stupidly.

“Summer and Mat, obviously.” Sabrina says, and the second it’s out of her mouth, realization hits and her expression changes.

Damn wine.

“I mean-” Sabrina tries to backtrack, but it’s too late.

“Mathew, can I speak to you for a moment? Outside.” Anders says, his tone of voice making it clear that it’s not a request, but a demand.

Anders heads out to the backyard, and Summer looks at Mat wearily. “Mat, you don’t-”

“No, it’s okay, Princess.” He promises, pressing a kiss to her temple and ignoring the apologetic look Sabrina tosses his way. He heads out after Anders without another word, walking up to where he’s waiting by the pool bar.

“What the fuck did you do?” Anders demands, pushing Mat the second he gets closer.

Mat finds restraint deep in his well of patience, deciding it would still not be a good idea to punch his captain in the face.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ve been seeing Summer? This whole time, you’ve been dating?”

“Maybe we have. What does it matter to you?”

“I told you to stay away from her.” Anders spits, pointing a finger in Mat’s face. “I told you to stay away and you didn’t listen. And you somehow thought hiding this behind my back was a good idea?!”

“And I told you that you didn’t get to tell me who I did and didn’t get to have feelings for.”

Anders laughs bitterly. “Oh so now it’s feelings? At the beginning of all this you said you were in love with her, and now it’s just feelings? Make up your mind, Mat.”

“I do have feelings for her! I do love her!”

“No you fucking don’t,” Anders spits. “You haven’t loved her a single day since you started sneaking around and lying about this relationship.”

“What else was I supposed to do? You made it very clear you didn’t want me around her and I made it very clear that that wasn’t your choice to make. So I did what you asked and let Summer make the choice for us both.”

“What is he talking about?”

Summer’s voice cuts through the night air like a knife to the gut, and Mat turns to find her staring at the both of them.

She looks like an angel, hair blowing in the wind, the skirt of her dress flowing out beside her, the backyard lights casting a heavenly glow around her.

But it’s her face that breaks Mat’s heart. Her face says she heard everything, and even though she’s standing right there, Mat can tell she’s already a million miles away from him.

God dammit.

He couldn’t catch a fucking break today, could he?

“Summer,” Anders says, using his brotherly voice with her. “Go back inside.”

“No,” she says, and the tone of voice she’s using is one she’s only ever used against Mat when they used to be at odds.

That used to feel like a lifetime ago, but Mat knows for sure that it’s probably coming back to him sooner than he’d like.

“Summer-” Anders tries again, but Summer won’t hear it.

“No,” she repeats, taking a step closer to them. “You told him to stay away from me? Tried to stop him from dating me?”

“I was just trying to-”

Summer holds up a hand, effectively silencing Anders, then turns to Mat. “And you. You said you wanted to keep quiet about us until you and Anders reached an understanding. But really, the whole time, you told him we weren’t seeing each other?”

“Summer, I can explain, I-”

“You said you didn’t want to keep us a secret.” She continues talking like Mat never said a single word. “But really, you just didn’t want to be the one keeping a secret. You wanted me to do it for you.”

The night air is suddenly heavy and silent, Anders and Mat staring at the ground in shame, nothing left to say.

Summer scoffs bitterly. “Unbelievable.”

The click of her heels on the pavement has Mat’s head snapping up, his feet immediately moving when he sees she’s walking away. Anders is hot on their heels, following as Summer heads back into the house, noticing Sabrina and the others with their attention on Summer as she heads for her purse, then straight for the door.

“Summer?” Sabrina asks, concerned.

Summer says nothing, and Mat calls for her, but she keeps walking.

The three of them follow Summer out to the driveway, and Mat breaks into a sprint then, managing to get in front of her to block her path.

“Princess please, just listen for a second-”

“Get out of my way, Mathew.” She says.

It’s the tone of voice that almost has him frozen in his spot. There’s no anger, no heat.

Fuck fuck fuck.

“Princess, I-”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Okay, I’m sorry, Summer, I’m so sorry. But you don’t understand, I just wanted us to-”

“It doesn’t matter.” She says, placing a hand on his chest. “I don’t have the energy to deal with this right now. Please move.”

Mat wants to do anything but that, but he knows he probably won’t get anywhere with her about it tonight, so he does as she asks, and steps aside. By the time Anders catches up to them, she’s in her car and backing out of the driveway.

Mat feels like she’s taking his heart with her.

Summer sighs, spinning in the mirror and pursuing her lips as she examines the fifth maid of honor gown Sabrina’s managed to coax her into in the last hour.

They’re at the Vera Wang Bridal House on Fifth Avenue, where Alex, one of Sabrina’s oldest pageant friends and bridesmaids, works as the manager. She’s been diligently helping Sabrina and Summer find the right maid of honor dress with the wedding only a couple of weeks away, and also helping to talk Sabrina out of some of the more less than ideal options.

The dress Summer’s trying on now is in the exact shade of what Sabrina’s been calling “champagne rose gold,” that she picked as one of her wedding colors, a spaghetti strap gown that accentuates Summer’s curves and compliments her shape.

But it still doesn’t feel…well, like something Summer would wear, at least not as the maid of honor to her sister’s wedding.

“I don’t know, Sabi,” she mutters, examining the way the silk falls against her body. “I like it, but it could be better.”

She looks in the mirror towards her sister, the bride to be, watching as she frowns, cocking her head to the side. “You’re right. The Lou's nice on you but the color’s a little off.” Sabrina turns toward the rack of dresses, pointing at one of the racks and then turning to Alex, smiling sweetly when she asks “Can we see the Lourdes, the Joelle, the Evelyne, the Diane, and the Vaness?”

Summer blanches. “Not the Vaness.”

Sabrina raises a perfectly arched eyebrow at her. “Why not?”

“Sabi,” Summer deadpans. “The v-neck on that dress is deeper than the Mariana Trench. My boobs would be all over the place.”

“Your boobs would look amazing in it.” Sabi insists, turning to Alex. “Right?”

Summer sends Alex a pleading look over Sabrina’s head, and Alex smiles, shaking her head. “Your sister’s at least a 38D and the Vaness can barely hold a 36C. I’d say ax the Vaness, and if you want to see a v-neck option, we can look at the Vanetta and the Varun instead. They’re a little more stable.”

Sabrina hums, then nods. “Alright, I’ll accept the alternative.”

“Thank you,” Summer says with a grateful sigh, and Alex sends her a wink before pulling the six gowns off the rack and putting them in Summer’s dressing room before heading back out to join Sabrina.

When Summer shuts the dressing room door, she carefully takes off the gown she has on and puts it back on its hangar before reaching for the next one.

Just as she’s zipping up the Lourdes, her phone vibrates in her purse from where it's resting on the chair beside her. She ignores it, focusing on adjusting the sweetheart neckline and the tulle of the train of the down when it goes off again, and then again, and then again, before it starts to vibrate with the frequency of a phone call.

She assumes it’s their father, calling on behalf of their mother to pester Summer for details on the fitting since Sabrina probably won’t answer.

Sabrina and their mom had gone shopping for her ‘mother of the bride’ dress last week and Sabrina was not pleased after her mother insisted on needing three dresses - one for the ceremony, one for the cocktail hour, and one for the reception. Sabrina was still a little upset, and their dad had been playing the middle man ever since.

Fussing with the zipper with one hand, and reaching blindly in her purse for her phone with the other, Summer answers her phone without even looking, immediately saying “Tata, okay naman kami. You don’t have to keep calling, just tell mom I’ll send her a picture of my dress when I’m done. Lalo lang itong makakainis kay Sabrina.”

From outside her dressing room, she can hear Sabrina snort in agreement.

There’s a small pause on the other line, and for a second Summer worries that she’d been on speakerphone and their mother was about to scream down the line, but then she hears someone clear their throat before they say “I uh…I’m not your dad, and I didn’t understand a lot of that.”

Summer blinks, her heart plummeting to her stomach. She lets go of the zipper of the dress that she’d finally managed to pull up, then slowly pulls her phone away from her ear. When the screen lights up, and the contact name “13” shows up on her phone, she gasps in part shock and part anger, the phone slipping from her hand and clattering to the hardwood floor of her dressing room.

She wasn’t expecting that.

He’d been silent these last couple of weeks, giving her space after everything that had happened, so him calling so suddenly was…strange.

And Summer was definitely not prepared to speak to him today. Especially when she hadn’t sorted out how she felt and how she’d go about handling this ridiculous situation.

The noise alerts Alex and Sabrina, who Summer can hear scramble to their feet before they start knocking on the door.

“Summer,” Sabrina calls. “Are you okay in there?”

“Do you need help?” Alex offers.

Summer takes a deep breath, trying to calm her sudden racing heart and staring at her phone in total offense. She can hear Mat going “Hello? Summer?” and prays Sabrina and Alex can’t hear him at all.

“I’m fine,” Summer croaks out. “Just dropped my phone.”

She quickly bends down, grabbing her phone and ending the call, turning off her phone, and tossing it back into her purse. Quickly, she looks in the mirror, adjusting the dress one final time and fixing her hair.

There’s a slight flush to her cheeks, and she schools her facial expression, pointing at her reflection in the mirror as if to say “Get your shit together,” before squaring her shoulders and opening the door.

“What about this one?” Summer asks, pasting on her best “nothing to see here” smile.

Sabrina and Alex exchange suspicious glances, and Summer promptly ignores them.

And also especially ignores the way her heart hasn’t stopped pounding in her chest since hearing Mat’s voice.

Mat looks down at his phone one more time, then back at Summer’s building.

He hadn’t seen her since everything that had gone down at Sabrina and Anders’ place, and she’d been ignoring his texts and calls, save the one she definitely didn’t mean to answer the other day.

Part of him knows it’s because she’s probably upset at him and Anders for lying to her, but before, when she was upset, he was used to her arguing with him, with her still being around.

All this space and silence was new, and he didn’t like it at all.

As he approaches the front of her building, nerves start to creep in.

What the fuck am I doing here?

The more he wondered, the more he was afraid, the more he thought about her. And the more he thought about her, the more she got under his skin, the more she invaded his dreams, the more he knew he couldn’t waste another second without seeing her, or feeling her one more time.

No matter how badly he may have fucked up.

There’s a buzz, a loud one, that snaps him back into reality, and he’s surprised when “Come on up!” from Summer's cheery voice greets his ears.

He hears another buzz and the snick of the doors unlocking, so he rushes in without a second thought, taking the elevator to Summer’s floor.

When he gets to her door, he knocks tentatively, noticing she’s got some door decoration hanging over her peephole, and Mat feels his gut churn irritably.

“Coming!” Summer calls, and Mat’s heart suddenly starts to thunder in his chest.

Hold the fuck up. Is she expecting someone?

Blood starts to boil in his veins.

She let me in without even knowing who I was.

He can hear her footsteps getting closer to the door.

Is she…is she going on a date?

The thought is irrational, he knows, but he can’t help but worry about it anyway.

There’s a distinct shattering sound that echoes in his ears. Before he even debates if he has the right to think that, let alone even think of asking it, the door opens and Mat’s eyes are graced with the stunning reality of Summer’s natural beauty.

She’s wearing an oversized graphic t-shirt that has him questioning if she’s even wearing pants, and her long beautiful curls are down, stray curls framing her face, and then those chocolate eyes are staring at him in disbelief and he just-

Fuck.

“Hi.” He breathes, heart in his stomach.

God damn she’s so fucking beautiful.

“Mat?” Summer asks, like she doesn’t believe what’s in front of her. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk to you.” He begins. “I know it’s been a minute, but-”

“It’s been almost three weeks, actually,” Summer deadpans. “And now isn’t a good time.”

“Expecting someone else?” He all but interrogates, venom quickly seeping into his voice. It’s too easy with Summer, too easy to slip back into their little game, no matter how much he doesn’t want to.

But apparently Summer doesn’t want to either. She gives no indication that she’s heard him, no obvious tell that his irritation is irritating her right back. Her full lips don’t move, remain stoic and perfect and plump and-

God does he want to kiss her.

“Yes, actually.” She tells him. “I have friends coming over, and-”

Mat goes to her before he can think about it. He’s moving into her space, backing her into her apartment and kicking her door shut behind him before he takes her in his arms, spinning them around to press her back into the door and then sinking his hands into her hair, pulling her head back, and kissing her like his life depends on it.

For a moment, time stands still when his lips meet hers. He feels like his universe was knocked off its axis without her, and being close to her again, it’s like everything falls back into place.

All the tension, all the worry, all the “will she, won’t she,” it all falls away and disappears.

The only thing that matters is Summer.

Relief instantly floods his veins when he feels her relax against him, when her hands land on his shoulders, and it dissipates just as quickly when she puts just enough pressure under her hands and pushes him away.

Mat backs up, hands dropping away from her altogether, even though his fingertips tingle with the need to reach for her, to bring her back.

Summer looks angry.

“No.” She says firmly. “Absolutely not.”

No no no no no he thinks. Panics.

“Summer, I-” He begins, watching her walk past him and moves further into her living room.

“No, Mathew. You don’t do what you did and show up here and kiss me and expect me to just forgive you.”

“I’m sorry, I just meant to-”

“I know what you meant. But you still shouldn’t have done it.” Summer spits, all fire and brimstone. “You can’t come here and kiss me like I’m still your dirty little secret.”

“What?” He shakes his head, staring at Summer in disbelief. “You’re not my dirty little secret, Summer. That’s not what this was at all.”

“Yeah,” she rolls her eyes. “Okay.”

“I wanted to tell you the truth,” he insists, swearing, “I just…I just couldn’t.”

“Couldn’t tell me that Anders tried to enforce some stupid rule you didn’t need to listen to because you’re both grown men? Couldn’t tell me that he was being overprotective and that he told you you couldn’t be with me? Couldn’t tell me that you didn’t have the guts to tell him no to his face? What of any of that ‘couldn’t’ you do, Mat?”

Mat frowns. “He’s my captain, Summer.”

“What the fuck does that mean to me? He’s my brother in law. I could’ve handled him on my own, spoken to him and told him to back the fuck off, and Sabrina would’ve told him the same. Instead you made it sound like he knew the whole time but was just having trouble accepting it.”

“You’re right. I handled it terribly, and I’m sorry.”

She stares at him for a second, then nods. “Okay, I accept your apology, now get out.”

His stomach bottoms out. “What?”

“Just leave, Mat.” She says, shaking her head and pointing at her front door behind him. “Just leave.”

He doesn’t know what else to say, doesn’t know what else to do, so he just nods, doing exactly as she asks.

Mat lets out a frustrated groan, dropping down to the ice to lay on his back, pain running through his bones as he shuts his eyes.

He can hear a teammate skating closer to where he lays, before feeling the blade of a stick poke him in the side. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Isn’t that the fucking question of the day?

It had been a week since she’d kicked him out and no matter what he did, he couldn’t get the look on her face out of his head, and he couldn’t escape the lingering tingle on his lips after kissing her after spending so much time away from her.

The reality is that he had Summer, and then he didn’t. And though to everyone else it should seem like that’s normal, that they’ve always been at odds and don’t like each other, it couldn’t be farther from the truth.

Mat never hated Summer at all, and he never wanted to keep her a secret, but he thought that was his only option, the only way to go about finally being able to have her.

And he still ended up losing her anyway.

“Nothing.” Mat mutters, keeping his eyes shut and trying to focus on the freezing surface beneath him, wiggling his toes in his skates.

“Looks like something.” He hears Tito mutter as he skates closer. “You’re skating like shit today.”

“Thanks for that babe.” Mat deadpans. “Appreciate it.”

“Did you get dumped or something?” Tito asks again.

Mat’s eyes fly open at that, and he lolls his head to the side to glare at him. “Not so fucking loud, dingus.”

“Well is it true or not?” His best friend presses.

“I don’t even know if we were officially together in the first place.”

Across the ice, a loud voice echoes. “You’re not gonna be together in the future either if you don’t get your shit together.”

Mat finds himself shooting up into a sitting position, head spinning to look at his captain, who’s already looking at him with a frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Anders’ mouth presses together in a firm line as he skates closer to Mat and Tito, and when he’s close enough, he jabs Mat in the leg with the blade of his stick. “It means you need to apologize, you idiot.”

Mat just stares at him. “Thought you said you didn’t want me to be around her?”

“I said I didn’t want you to be around her if you weren’t serious about her. You moping around the locker room, skating like shit, acting like you just got divorced - that tells me that I was wrong about all of this, and that shit might be a little serious.”

Mat stays silent. He’s not exactly sure what to tell his captain at this point. A week ago it would’ve been “Fuck you very much,” but he’s pretty sure Anders is trying to…apologize?

He assesses him carefully, then it clicks. “Summer and Sabrina chewed you out, huh?”

Anders doesn’t look impressed. “I got what was coming to me. Looks like you did, too.”

Well that he couldn’t deny.

“I tried to apologize.” Mat admits. “She told me to take a hike.”

Anders scoffs. “Did you expect anything less? And since when do you back down from arguing with her?”

“Like you said, shit’s pretty serious. So…yeah. I backed down and I left when she told me to.”

Tito taps Mat in the leg with his skate gently. “You love her?”

Mat hesitates to answer, not because he’s not sure. He’s pretty sure he does, almost certain, but he’s never said it, not really shown it, and he isn’t sure if Anders is still after his head, so he stays quiet.

Anders sighs. “What do you feel for her, exactly?”

Mat can put it into words, but as he thinks about it, it might not be the best explanation.

I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with Summer since the day I met her, but she hated me on sight, so I pretended to hate her too. Except then I realized that she actually liked me, and now because I’ve been an idiot I think she actually hates me. And I still think I might be in love with her anyway.

…to be fair, that didn’t sound so bad.

Except, when Mat says those exact words out loud to Anders, silence falls around them, and he realizes several of their teammates, including Tito, were in hearing range, and now everyone’s staring at Mat like they’re waiting for him to disintegrate right in front of them.

“I uh…” Mat begins, falters for a second. “I just mean…”

“I know what you mean.” Anders says, nodding. “You should probably tell her all that yourself though, yeah? Preferably soon. Wedding’s next week, and Sabrina and I are going on our mini honeymoon during the Thanksgiving break, so…do with that what you will.”

Without another word, Anders skates away, and only after Mat casts a scathing look to the rest of his eavesdropping teammates do they follow suit, except for Tito.

Tito shakes his head, tapping Mat’s side with the blade of his stick. “Get your shit together,” he insists, before he skates away too.

Mat sighs, laying back on the ice and letting the cold settle into his bones.

Sabrina and Anders had a beautiful wedding.

Truly, really, they did.

Summer’s heart ached with happiness for her sister.

It was everything Sabrina had wanted, everything she’d worked hard to plan, and through all the stress and breakdowns her older sister had, she was finally married and had the wedding of a lifetime to enjoy and look back on.

And since she and Anders had managed to resolve their issues, she was genuinely happy for him again, too.

She had a feeling she’d find it hard to remain upset at both Mat and Anders, considering the more time she had to think about it, and remembered that men were in fact, stupid, thanks to Sabrina, she did understand both their perspectives.

Anders had known her since she was sixteen and had seen her struggle with her self love, seen her date shitty people, and witnessed every second of her and Mat arguing like their lives depended on it. He was just looking out for her, wanting to protect her and make sure she didn’t go through something like that again, and especially not with someone Anders was friends and teammates with. He had to be around Mat on a frequent basis, and if it went bad between her and him, he would’ve had to tiptoe around them both awkwardly.

Except none of that was his to worry about, or even something Summer expected of him, which he understood now.

The part that had Summer tripped up was the fact that Mat had explicitly said he didn’t want to keep Summer a secret, and how she’d understood, but he ended up keeping her a secret too, and she unknowingly helped him.

Realistically, she did forgive Mat, but she also knows she should’ve been able to move on from it just as easily as she did with Anders. Maybe it was the fact that she expected more from Mat, considering how…intimate they were, but deep down she knew it was just her insecurities rearing their ugly head again.

Before it was the disbelief that he’d been looking at her in appreciation the first time they met, and now it was the uncertainty that he was only doing what he thought was the right thing to do at the moment. That he didn’t keep her a secret from anyone other than Anders and that he didn’t think she was enough to be shown off to the world.

Rationally, she knew it wasn’t anything, that she should be able to just move past it. But irrationally, Summer felt like it was still too good to be true.

Besides, they’d never actually said anything other than that they liked each other. It wasn’t like they’d fallen for one another.

Okay…maybe that’s not entirely true. Summer knew she’d started to, especially the more time they spent together, the more they’d slowly gotten to know one another.

But they never said anything to each other, so…

She’d managed to steer clear of him so far throughout the wedding, avoiding his gaze and purposely putting herself on the opposite side of the room. Right now, she was at the bar, waiting for the bartender to make her a margarita and watching where Sabrina and Anders were greeting their guests.

It was only when she realized after a moment that she didn’t see Mat anywhere that she had a feeling avoiding him wouldn’t be possible much longer.

“Do you think there’s more legs in the world? Or eyes?”

Despite the fact that she’d been expecting him, the absurd yet intriguing question has Summer turning her head to the right, and Mat stands there with a lopsided smile that spells mischief.

Her heart collides into her ribcage in a painful throb. It’s been almost a month since she’s seen Mathew last. He looks just as good, is everything she remembers and desperately tries to forget in the same breath.

Before she can help herself, the corner of her mouth quirks up in a small smile, and she leans against the bar a little, shaking her head. “Is that the best you’ve got?”

He shrugs, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Got your attention, didn’t I?”

She wants to roll her eyes, but refrains, turning her attention back to the bar, grabbing her drink from the bartender with a polite “thank you,” and dropping a five dollar bill in the tip jar next to her elbow.

As she starts to walk away, Summer can feel Mat fall into step with her, and even though she doesn't want for it to happen, her body stiffens, unease seeping into her bones at his proximity.

“I didn’t know if you’d show up to the reception or not.” He confesses, the charm slipping away from his tone.

She shrugs, nonchalant. “It’s my older sister’s wedding. Why wouldn’t I be here?”

“I wasn’t sure if you’d do it to avoid me. Or if you finally decided that you hated me.”

His confession almost makes her falter in her steps. Almost.

“That’s a bit dramatic, considering I remember that I told you that I never hated you in the first place.” She practically bites out, quickening her steps a little.

“Could’ve fooled me. I mean I never saw you after you kicked me out.”

“I’ve been right here.”

“It felt like you were on another planet.”

This time she does stop in her tracks, turning to face him. “What do you expect me to say, Mat? I’m not exactly happy about what happened. I know you apologized, and I get it, I just…I need time to come to terms with it, okay?”

Summer can see Sabrina approaching over his shoulder, and she shakes her head slightly, letting Sabrina know that she can handle this. Thankfully, she nods, and moves to make conversation with another table of her guests.

Mat looks at Summer then, swallowing a lump in his throat. “Tell me what I can do to help then. What do I have to do to make this right? Tell me how to fix this.”

She shakes her head, taking a step back. “You can’t,” she says, already retreating. “You just can’t.”

His eyes burn into her back as she leaves, and heads back to her seat. She’s determined to stay out of Mat’s way and keep her eyes away from his for the rest of the night, no matter how much her heart twists in her chest.

Mat stuffs one hand in the pocket of his hoodie, the other one clutching the bouquet of roses as he crosses the street, approaching Summer’s building for the first time since she kicked him out.

He felt like a bit of a stalker, showing up to her place unannounced again, but he felt like he didn’t know what else to do.

He’d tried asking Anders for advice, and the only thing his captain did was remind Mat that he and Sabrina were leaving on their mini honeymoon, and to take care of it before they got back.

So…this was him fixing it himself. Or trying to anyway.

It takes him an embarrassing amount of time to actually work up the courage to press the call button to her apartment building. This time, when he presses it, instead of Summer letting him up immediately, there’s a small pause, before her soft voice comes through the speaker.

“Mat?”

He pauses, waving awkwardly at the little camera. “Hi.”

Another pause, then he hears Summer sigh. “You’re not going to give up on this, are you?”

“Probably not, no.” Mat answers honestly, running a hand through his hair.

There’s silence, and then the building door buzzes and Mat pauses for a second too long before heading through it, and up to Summer’s apartment.

He only manages to knock once before the door flies open and reveals Summer standing there in jeans, a white tank top, and a black cardigan over it, her feet in fuzzy socks and even fuzzier house slippers.

Still, she looks so fucking beautiful.

Summer has a look on her face that he can’t read, and that in itself scares the shit out of him. He’s experienced every single one of Summer’s emotions, been the target of a few of them too many times to count, but this one is…

Different.

“For you,” he forces himself to say, handing the roses out to her. “As an apology. Or, the start to one.”

Summer eyes the roses, and for a split second Mat thinks he can see the corner of her mouth quirk up in a little smile, but then it’s gone. She takes the roses from him hesitantly, cradling them in her arms and staring at them for a second.

Mat hovers in the doorway, unsure of what to do.

Summer clears her throat, deciding for the both of them. “Are you just going to loiter in my hallway, thirteen? Or do you want to come in?”

The urge he used to instinctively have to roll his eyes is gone, and instead all he can do is nod, crossing over the threshold when she steps aside to let him in.

He toes off his shoes by the door, following her inside. He waits while she puts the roses in a vase, looking at the art on her walls.

When she comes back, they sit on the couch, and Mat takes a small breath.

“Maybe I should go first this time,” Summer says suddenly. He nods, waiting patiently, and she sighs.

“I want to start off by saying that I do forgive you, and that I do understand where you and Anders were coming from, no matter how ridiculous. I think the thing that's kept me upset is that I couldn't tell for myself whether or not you kept me a secret for you, or for Anders.”

“It was for Anders,” he swears. “I would never keep you a secret, Summer. I swear.”

“Okay,” she nods, accepting his answer. “Then with that being said, I don’t want to completely put you on the spot, but what exactly is this?”

“This?” Mat asks, confused.

“You and I,” Summer says. “What are we? Because I’m going to be honest, I’m not really sure.”

“Well, I would like to say you’re my girlfriend, but we didn’t really establish that.” He hesitates, gauging her reaction. “Would you…would you agree that we were dating?”

Summer nods. “Yeah, I thought we were. I thought you were my boyfriend.”

Mat really doesn’t like the past tense she’s using, but ignores it. “Is there anything that's stopping you from thinking that I still am?”

“I just don't know that I'm clear on how you feel, and I would prefer we lay our cards out on the table now.”

“Okay,” he says, turning his body towards her. “That first day that we met, I’d spotted you before I even realized who you were. You came inside with Sabrina, and I could see you from where I was in the kitchen. I was staring at you when you met me, admittedly for probably a long time, because from that very first second, I thought you were beautiful, and I wanted to get to know you.”

Mat can see Summer’s surprised by his admission, but he continues. “I’ve always liked you, and I’ve always been interested, but I was under the impression that you didn't like me, so I just followed your lead. I was jealous of your ex, I was jealous of that random dude from the club, and it was because this whole time I felt like I'd ruined my chances before I even had one. When you were finally single, and we slept together for the first time, it felt like I finally did have that chance, but then Anders stepped in and…well you know the rest.”

Summer’s quiet for a second, observing him, and then she nods. “I knew who you were when we met, it was kind of hard not to. I thought you were cute and I was excited to meet you, but then when I caught you staring, I got insecure. I thought you were judging me, and that's why I shut you out and didn't let you in at first.”

Mat’s heart shatters in his chest.

How could you not see I thought you were the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen? He wants to ask her, How could you not see you had me in the palm of your hands that very first day?

“I thought that there was no way that you would be interested in someone like me, so I put up a wall and thought it would be better to keep you at a distance. I didn't really intend for us to bicker for as long as we did.” Summer admits.

She takes a deep breath, fiddling with her own hands. “When I was with my ex, I was genuinely with him, and then when I wasn't, and you and I slept together, I was genuinely into you. I had a feeling that it might be complicated between you and Anders, and when you suggested not telling him anything at first, I understood, and I still understand, but I'm still having a hard time in my head trying to convince myself that you weren't trying to be malicious.”

Mat moves to reassure her, but the soft smile she gives him stops him. “I know that you weren't, but like I said, that's for me to convince myself of and not you.”

“So…not that I have selective hearing, I’m just trying to get this right. Do you have feelings for me?” Summer laughs softly at his question, but nods, so he continues. “And I have feelings for you. And you forgive me for what happened?”

Summer nods again, “I do.”

“Okay…then…” Mat trails off, unsure of how this is supposed to go.

“Then?”

“Are we…okay?” He asks.

“We’re okay,” Summer says, nodding. There’s a moment where Mat’s relieved, where he feels like he can breathe again, but then she says “But I don’t know if we should get back together. Or…get together, however you want to put it.”

Mat’s heart thumps hard in his chest. “What?”

“Not today. Not right now.” She says, a small shake in her head. “I think…don't you think we need to take a step back?”

“What about a step at a time?” He offers.

Summer blinks. “What?”

“You said we shouldn’t get back together today, and I can see your point. Not today. But maybe…maybe we can just take this a day at a time?”

“Mat…” Summer hesitates, completely unsure. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to know. Not right now. That’s why we can take it a day at a time.”

She eyes him quietly, a million emotions flitting across her face as the seconds pass between the two of them. “What would you even do? Where would we even start?”

“Coffee.” Mat says immediately. “Just coffee. Nothing more, nothing less. Just let me buy you a coffee.”

Summer’s quiet, and for a second, Mat worries she’s going to say no, but then her shoulders relax, and she nods. “Okay, coffee sounds good.”

Three Months Later

“You just wanted me close to a knife when it was in your hand, didn’t you?”

Summer shakes her head with a small laugh, turning the knife around in her hand so she holds the blade between her fingers, placing the handle in Mat’s hand. He takes it, but the hesitancy is still in his gaze, so she idles up beside him, bumping his hip a little before focusing on the kitchen counter.

Mat had admitted that he hadn’t tried Filipino food before when Summer and Sabrina had gone to visit their parents in New Jersey, so she’d offered to cook for him only on the condition he helped out.

Their father, Sonny, had come from the Philippines as a child with their grandparents. Their mother, Shauna, who’d grown up in the Bronx, lost her parents by the time she’d married their dad, and so the girls had mostly grown up with the Maldonado family.

Their grandmother, Soledad - the “S” naming tradition in the family ran deep - had taught the girls how to cook staple dishes when they were young, so Summer could make this in her sleep.

She’d already gone through the meticulous and thorough process of showing Mat how to wash rice and correctly measure for the correct amount of water, and that was currently bubbling away in the rice cooker on her kitchen counter.

Now, she was going to walk him through making the marinade for probably the easiest dish to introduce Mat to when it came to Filipino cuisine - chicken adobo.

“Okay, so I’m going to cut up the onion, but I need you to mince the garlic. We have eight cloves here, and you’re going to take a piece of garlic and put it under your blade,” she instructs, grabbing one of the extra cloves of garlic she’d put aside for practice, and moving it to her board. She places her blade right on top and waits until Mat’s done the same.

“Good, now don’t hesitate, just bring the meat of your fist, pinky side down, onto the back side of the blade, and smash the clove. Just be sure you’re holding the handle of the knife firmly, like this,” Summer says, then brings her hand down, listening to the blade and the satisfying crunch of the garlic clove beneath it.

Mat follows suit on his own clove, and of course, because he’s apparently good at everything, gets it right on the first try. He smiles shyly anyway, waiting for her confirmation, to which she smiles, giving him a quick peck on the lips. “Perfect.”

Mat beams at the praise. “Really?”

“Yeah, so just do that to the other seven, and it’ll be easier to chop those up. Think you can handle it?”

He nods, reaching for another clove, and Summer tosses him the one on her board before grabbing the onion.

They work in a silent tandem, and Summer chances a look at him to find his tongue peeking out from between his lips in concentration.

It makes her heart twinge with something she isn’t totally ready to come to terms with.

They’d been doing this…thing…taking it a day at a time, for the last few months. Mat had taken her out on countless dates, focusing on romancing her the way he would have had they not gotten off on the wrong foot. There had been some sex, not a lot, but whenever they did have sex, it was always intense, and Mat always made a point to reassure Summer every chance he got, in bed and out of it, that he thought she was beautiful, kind, and everything he ever wanted.

Outside of that, Mat had taken her to meet his parents and his sister, and even joined her on her bi-weekly Saturday visits to Anders and Sabrina’s home for family dinners. The captain and his winger were still working on repairing that whole mess, but it was getting better, for the most part.

And now he was here. In her kitchen. Learning how to make her Lola’s chicken adobo.

When she finished with the onion, she tossed everything into a pan with a little vegetable oil, placed it on the stove and fired up the burner. She grabbed a bowl from the cabinet, then brought it over to Mat for him to dump in his minced garlic.

“Pretty good there, thirteen.” She says before guiding him to the sink to wash and dry their hands.

“Okay, now what do I do?”

Summer smiles, pointing at the ingredients next to the stove. There’s shoyu, vinegar, brown sugar, black pepper, chicken stock, peppercorns, and bay leaves. “I need you to measure out the ingredients on the card by the bottles and put them in that little bowl next to it.”

“What? I’m on measuring duty?” He asks, wrinkling his nose with a frown.

Summer leans up and kisses his nose before backing away. “It’s because you’re meticulous, so I trust you.”

He blinks after her kiss, then nods, heading over to his new station with a little more pep in his step.

Summer stirs the onions around since they’ve already started to cook, then grabs the minced garlic and tosses it in before heading to the fridge.

Her Lola’s recipe is usually meant as dinner for two, so she had six pieces of chicken thighs rinsed and pat dry set aside specifically for dinner tonight. Bringing the plate out of the fridge and over to the pan, she grabs a pair of tongs and places each piece skin side down once the onions and garlic get fragrant, allowing them to brown a bit.

She double checks on Mat’s progress, only to find him already done, marinade measuring and poured in the bowl, and his eyes on Summer, watching her with a cheshire smile.

“Look at you,” she muses, going easily to him when he opens his arms, wrapping her own around his waist. “Hope you’re not too attached to your diet.” She teases.

Mat scoffs. “As if.”

“You’re right,” Summer agrees, running her hands under his shirt and caressing the hard muscle of his abdomen. “You don’t really need it.”

She feels him flex under her fingers and she laughs, looking up to find him smirking down at her, the heat in his eyes evident. “Well I kinda need it, gotta stay in shape to keep up with you at night.”

As if to remind her, her body’s muscles choose that moment to remind her of their ache, and Summer flushes, pushing away from Mat to head back to her place on the stove.

“Well,” she begins, flipping the chicken over. “I appreciate your dedication. Can you bring over the marinade?”

He nods, grabbing the bowl and carefully idling up beside her.

“Okay, now you’re just gonna pour it over everything, but make sure you cover each piece of chicken when you go.” She watches as Mat follows her instruction, and once he’s done, she shakes the pan a little, lowers the temperature a smidge, then covers it with a lid.

“Now what?” He asks, looking around. She’d already washed and set the rice to cook in the rice cooker on her counter, but he didn’t see any additional food lying around.

“Well, we have to let it cook for about fifteen minutes, and then we add the finishing touches, and then we eat!”

She ushers him back toward the stove to wash their hands again. It was something she’d learned as a kid, washing her hands after every step in cooking, and she hoped Mat didn’t think it was weird or strange.

He didn’t seem to mind though, going easily along and washing and drying his hands beside her without complaint.

“So…we have fifteen minutes to ourselves?” He asks, setting up a timer on his phone.

Summer raises a brow at him in suspicion. “Yes…why?”

Mat smirks, leaning with his hip against the sink when he reaches for Summer. “Cause I’ve been thinking about eating your pussy since this morning. Can I?”

He takes her in his arms before she can answer, and then he’s kissing her neck, hands wrapping around her waist and down to her ass, palming the flesh in his hands. She moans a little when his teeth nip at her neck, and she has to push him away to be able to back up and out of his space. “Mat, we shouldn’t, we-”

“Please baby,” he pleads, taking a step and crowding her back against the counter. “Just this once?” She feels his hands creep at the hem of her dress - the easiest thing to wear around him, especially when they tend to have moments like this - his fingers bunching it up to her stomach when he drops to his knees.

Summer finds herself automatically grabbing the material between her fingers, nodding her head and lifting her hips away from the counter for Mat to pull her underwear down her legs. She doesn’t miss the smile that crosses his face when he runs the lace through his fingers, and stuffs the fabric in the pocket of his jeans.

“Jump up on the counter, baby.” He says, waiting for Summer to settle onto the counter before pulling her forward, her butt resting on the edge of the counter. Mat grabs one of her barstools from the other side and places it right in front of her before taking a seat, pressing “start” on the timer on his phone.

He feels like he could drool a little at the sight of her open and bare for him, the prettiest shade of pink shining at him like a neon sign saying “just for you.”

Not another second passes before he’s burying his face into her pussy, Summer letting out a blissful and content sigh as her body relaxes and Mat settles her feet on his shoulders, gently circling his hand around her ankles and encouraging her to wrap her legs around his head, to pull him in closer.

She doesn’t, not right away, anyway, too wrapped up in the feeling of Mat’s tongue. He squeezes her ankle once, trying to get her attention, and all Summer can manage is to loll her head to the side to peek at him. He rises up a little, speaking against her skin, not wanting to be too far from her.

“Wrap those beautiful legs around my head, baby.”

All she can manage is a nod, and Mat returns to his task, moaning when her warm thighs touch either side of his face, his shoulders under her knees and her beautiful calves resting on his back. He can feel when she locks her ankles behind him and he settles in closer, relaxing against her as his mouth continues to devour her pussy, her arousal dripping down his chin.

He feels her nails scratch against his scalp when her hands dive into his hair, fingers gripping his curls and lightly tugging. Mat knows those tugs by heart now, which one means to keep going, which ones mean to ease up, which ones mean she’s loving it and not to stop or she’ll kill him.

“Mat,” she whimpers, her thighs squeezing his head and he nods, bringing his hands up to squeeze her breasts, loving when her hands cover his, holding onto him.

He says nothing, just focuses on keeping his pace and the way Summer’s body reacts to his mouth, beginning to feel her start to shake under him as she gets closer and closer to her orgasm.

Right when Mat thinks she’s going to grip his hair tighter, letting him know that she’s about to come, she suddenly sits up, pushing him back gently.

“Baby?” He asks, confused.

“Get up,” she says, and he’s up and off the stool in a second, approaching her carefully. He’s only a little surprised when she reaches for the waistband of his jeans, making quick work of the button and the zipper. By the time Mat’s brain catches up to him and finally understands what Summer wants, she’s got her hands in the waistband of his briefs, pulling them down while Mat’s cock springs free.

He watches as her pupils blow out wide, and smirks a little. Gently, he places a finger under her chin, coaxing her gaze back to his face. He kisses her a couple of times while crowding into her space, resting his cock against her soaked pussy while she chases the taste of herself on his tongue.

Mat grips her waist, pulling her a little further to the edge of the counter, gently moving his hips.

“Needy girl,” he playfully chastises. “Won’t even let me finish eating that pretty pussy because you’re so desperate for cock.”

Her eyes flash up at him, her playful spitfire in her eyes at his dirty talk. Mat’s found out that this is the kind of push and pull she prefers most, when he teases her or says dirty things and she can fight him back on it in a way that doesn’t cost them both.

Mat can see that she wants to talk back, but she bites her lip to refrain herself.

“Use your words pretty girl,” he says, grinding his cock against her. “Ask me nicely.”

“Please give me your cock,” Summer replies obediently. “I need it.”

Mat smiles, murmuring a soft “Good girl,” then he’s moving his hips back until the tip of his cock catches at her entrance and pushes in slowly, watching Summer’s face the whole time.

He loves this part, loves watching the way her whole body relaxes, watching the way her eyes flutter shut and her beautiful mouth parts just a little as her body welcomes him. He leans forward, capturing her lips in a gentle kiss as he bottoms out, waiting for her to adjust to him.

He’s learned he loves that part, too - how no matter how many times they’ve done this so far, she always seems to need a minute to adjust to him. But whenever she did, she took him so well that they could go at it over and over again till their muscles were sore.

While he waits for her to adjust, he takes a quick glance over at her stove, then at his phone, checking the time. Nothing’s burning, but he’s still only got about five or so minutes left.

Mat turns back to her, bending his head and burying his face into Summer’s neck, leaving filthy open mouthed kisses, speaking in between.

“Are you okay if we make this quick? Since we are cooking and all.”

That seems to bring her back to reality just a little, because he can feel her nod, and then she’s locking her ankles behind his back again, pulling him in closer - her usual sign that she’s ready for whatever Mat gives her.

He carefully pulls back before pushing back in, setting a pace he knows is enough to bring Summer to orgasm in no time. Summer lays back on the counter, and Mat’s hands immediately go to her breasts, cupping them through the material before yanking it down, smirking to himself when he finds she’s not wearing a bra.

Mat leans down, sucking a nipple into his mouth and drawing a soft whine from Summer’s lips. A whine that tells him that she’s definitely going to come in no time if he keeps it up.

He laps at her skin with his tongue, sucking at her skin as his hips piston in and out of her, moaning when he feels her squeeze down on him as her breath catches in her throat. Her back bends and he keeps his pace, his own orgasm quickly approaching as Summer comes around him, squeezing his cock in a vice grip and wrapping her legs tighter around his waist.

He comes a few seconds later, buried deep inside and his mouth still latched to her, tongue soothing over the now bruised skin.

His favorite part is this, the moment right after they fuck - how she seems so content to just lay there with him and let him hold her, let him stay inside her till he’s either ready to go again or ready to help clean her up or drag them both to the shower.

They catch their breath for a moment, Mat just staring down at her, admiring her beautiful curves, her full breasts, the curve of her belly. He traces his hands down her stomach, gently caressing her skin, rubbing at where he’s still buried inside her.

Her breath catches in her throat at the same time the timer goes off on his phone, and they both jump, Mat slipping out of her suddenly, and they both hiss at the loss.

“Well,” Summer says through a small sigh, “Looks like lunch is ready.”

Mat frowns. “But I already ate?”

Summer blinks at him, and when he smirks playfully, wagging his eyebrows, she rolls her eyes, slowly sitting up. “Funny, thirteen.”

He leans in for a kiss, and she softens, going lax in his embrace. Between kisses, Mat can feel his heart hammering in his rib cage, and he murmurs “I love you, Summer,” before he can stop himself.

She pauses for a second, lips frozen against his, and he backs up, gauging her reaction. She’s shocked, that much is obvious, and Mat can see the hesitation, so he leans in, kisses the tip of her nose, then her cheeks.

“You don’t have to say it back,” he says, “I can wait as long as you need me to. I just wanted to make sure I laid all my cards out on the table.”

She leans back, looking into his eyes. Mat knows what she’s looking for, knows she’s trying to make sure he’s being genuine, but he’s pretty sure he’s got hearts in his eyes, so she’s probably going to find what she’s looking for pretty quick.

“Mat…” She says, his name soft and syrupy on her lips.

“I love you,” he repeats again, leaning in to kiss her again. “And you can tell me when you’re ready.”

He pulls away, heading toward the stove to finish up, but Summer takes him by surprise, pulling him back to her and kissing him like her life depends on it, wrapping her arms around his neck and drawing him close.

“I’m ready,” she says between kisses. “I love you.”

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