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zepskies · 10 months

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Smoke Eater - Part 10

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 6,300 Tags/Warnings: **Sexual harassment, angst, perilous situations, hurt/comfort

Part 10: “Toil and Trouble”

After visiting his father, Dean spent the rest of his day unsettled. He couldn’t put his finger on why, exactly, but he had a gut feeling that John knew more than he was saying.

He understood that his dad was looking out for him, trying to protect him, but Dean had a problem.

He didn’t like being left in the dark.

You were working later than usual that afternoon, so he had more than one reason to invite Sam and Cas out for a drink. They met at the Roadhouse and sat in their usual corner. Unfortunately, they were getting drinks and a show.

Jo stormed out of the back room behind the bar with her mother hot on her heels.

“You stop right there, Joanna Beth—”

“Mom, you’re not going to talk me out of it! I’m taking the damn test and I’m going to get in and I’m going to the Police Academy!”

“And all the money I shelled out for you to go to college, to get your degree, something I never got, by the way.”

“I know. And I’m grateful for that, but I did the college thing for you and Dad,” Jo said.“I don’t want to go into business. I never did.”

“No, because owning your own business ain’t respectable,” Ellen said, with all due sarcasm as she crossed her arms. “Never mind that I thought I could leave this place to you someday. Never mind that you’d rather be walking these streets with a gun than take care of the last thing your father left us.”

Jo finally stopped at that. She turned on her heel and withered slightly.

“That’s not what I’m saying,” she said. “I just don’t want to serve at a bar my whole life, Mom. I want to help people.”

Ellen’s brows shot up at that. She leaned back on her heels, as if she’d been delt a blow. Dean looked over and saw the guilt that set over Jo’s features, but neither Harvelle woman backed down.

“So you don’t want to end up like me,” said Ellen, clicking her tongue. “Okay. That’s fine.”

“Mom, that’s not what I meant,” Jo tried, but her mother waved her off.

“No,” Ellen’s voice came out sharp as she went for a hand towel. “You do what you want, Jo. You’re grown, I suppose.”

She wiped down a few droplets by Cas’s hand before whipping the damp towel over her shoulder. And she walked down the line to continue serving her customers, leaving Jo standing at the other end, disheartened.

Sam and Dean shared a glance with each other, then with Cas, though they tried to keep their heads down and their noses out of the family business. Frankly, they were relieved when Jo left the bar.

Still, Dean couldn’t help but glance up at Ellen when she came back their way. He opened his mouth, but she beat him to it.

“Don’t you ask me if I’m okay, Dean Winchester,” she said. Her voice was quieter, tired, but it still cut like a whip.

He bobbed his head and looked down at his beer. “Yes, ma’am.”

But after a moment, his eyes raised to find Ellen’s face.

“You want another?” she asked, pointing to his drink. It was still half full, but Dean nodded with a smile, just to help her out. She seemed to want to distract herself with work. He was liable to do the same thing when he was stressed.

She nodded with a slight smile. After she left to go grab it for him, he raised his brows and looked over at his brother and his friend, whistling lowly.

“And we thought our family had issues,” Sam remarked. Dean huffed at that.

“Speaking of.” Dean turned to Cas on his left. “Dad told me you guys are making headway on this crime boss-turned-arsonist.”

Cas met him with a shrewd brow raise. “What did John tell you?”

Dean frowned, his brows knitting together. “I hate it when you do that.”

“What?”

“Cover his ass,” Dean replied. He lowered his voice to ask, “Have you figured out what’s connecting all the vics? What ties them to Azazel, besides the brand marks?”

Cas sighed, running a hand over his face. Meanwhile, Sam watched the exchange with tight lips.

“Dean, you know I can’t tell you that,” said Cas.

“Hey, this guy’s starting fires in my neck of the woods. I can help,” Dean said.

“We’re already working with Arson—”

“Oh yeah. Sounds like Dad’s party line.”

“Dean,” Sam interjected, but Dean shook his head stubbornly.

“No, Sam. This isn’t just about fires, or some random nut job offing people,” Dean said. He tried his best to keep his voice quiet, despite the frustration coursing through his blood. “This is about Mom, no matter how much you wish it wasn’t.”

The brothers stared at each other for a moment, their silence charged with unspoken confrontation.

Eventually, Sam relented with a shallow breath through his nose. He turned to Cas, as did Dean. With the weight of both Winchesters on him, Cas finally had to sigh as well. He set down his whiskey on the countertop.

“Jerry Stillwell, the CPA,” he began. “We traced a secondary bank account in his name. It showed several ‘consultant invoices,’ for tens of thousands of dollars. The payments were wired from a company called Edlund Emporium.”

“Okay,” Sam nodded. “What does it lead back to?”

“By all accounts, it’s just a wholesaler of antiques,” Cas explained. “But we believe it might be a shadow company for a larger enterprise. Drug runners are known to hide their product within secret compartments in furniture, in the frames behind paintings, etcetera.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen Narcos,” Dean quipped.

“Who owns the Emporium?” Sam asked.

“We don’t know yet,” Cas admitted. “Its records are proving difficult to trace. However, the one relevant thing we were able to retrieve from Stillwell’s home files was an old audit of Edlund Emporium from 1996. It showed some old statements of the company using a storage facility downtown: Stull Storage.”

Stull Storage. Dean’s head tilted in thought. Why did that name sound familiar?

Cas noted his recognition with another nod.

“That particular storage facility was also linked to a money laundering scheme. You’re thinking of Paul Richardson, the father of two, who was killed in last month’s fire,” said Cas. “Well, as it turns out, he was a defense attorney who failed to get his client acquitted for that case. His client was a known drug runner, decades ago. And he actually pushed product for Azazel.”

“How do you know that?” Dean asked.

Cas sighed. “Your father remembered him from his time in Narcotics.”

Shit, Dean thought. He looked over at his brother, and by now, Sam’s gears were turning at Mach speed.

“Who owns Stull Storage then?” Sam asked.

“A company called Savage & Co.,” Cas said. He looked over more pointedly at Dean, whose eyes widened in realization.

“My girlfriend’s company?”

You hated having to work late. Not because of the working, but because the office was much quieter after 5:00 p.m. Too quiet.

Your desk phone rang, making you jolt in your seat. Once you saw the extension calling, you exhaled loudly and resigned yourself to answering the phone.

“Yes?”

“Come up to my office for a sec. I wanna discuss something with you,” said Nick.

And that. You really hated that.

Your eyes closed as you took in a breath.

“I’m working on an upsell for the Greenway account. Can we meet in the morning?” you asked.

“This is important,” he insisted.

You held in a sigh, but you agreed and hung up. You steeled yourself and took your phone with you as you decided to take the elevator up to the 30th floor. At least if it got stuck, it would get you out of this impromptu meeting with your boss.

Unfortunately for you, Betsy ran like clockwork. You were at Nick’s office within minutes—the penthouse suite of the building. Lavishly furnished, complete with a full leather couch set and coffee table for entertaining corporate big wigs, a large desk for Nick to pretend to work, and a fully stocked bar, where he did most of his “actual” work.

An expensive looking set of gold clubs were leaned against the wall, next to the bar. You knew it was his pride and joy, and he often brought it up in conversation when he was “networking.”

Just now, the sun was setting through the large windows overlooking his desk. The view was quite picturesque; the only thing that marred it was Nick Savage himself. He smiled and beckoned you into the room when he noticed you. You left the door open when you entered.

He got up from his desk and gestured over to the lounge area. He hinted at you taking a seat beside him on the same couch, but you sat on the opposite one, leaving the coffee table between you. His smile lessened a pinch. But he got up, as if he was just remembering something. He made his way to the bar.

“Want a drink?” he asked you over his shoulder.

“No, thank you,” you flatly replied. “Nick, I told Mr. Greenway that I would have that paperwork into processing by end-of-day today.”

“Yep, you are working hard,” Nick nodded. “Miss Busy Bee.”

He filled a tumbler three quarters of the way with bourbon and took it back with him to the couch where you sat. You crossed your legs and subtly shifted backwards. It left a foot or so of distance in between.

“That’s what I like about you,” he continued. “You do what it takes to get the job done.”

“I take my work seriously,” you said, in a pointed tone.

Nick inclined his head.

“You sure do. And you’re doing very well. In just a few years, you’ve racked up more accounts and upsells under your belt than anyone else on the team right now. Even Josh,” he said. “In fact, I’m considering you two as my top candidates for the Senior Sales Manager position. Adam’s leaving us for another company next month.”

That compliment surprised you, as well as the potential promotion. You’d heard that Adam Milligan was interviewing with other companies, but you hadn’t known that he was leaving. You blinked, nodding slowly.

“Thank you,” you said. “I appreciate the consideration…and I would look forward to the opportunity to grow in the company.”

Nick smiled. “Good! And while I believe in you, I just need to know that you’d be willing to do what it takes in this new role.”

That had a subtle alarm trembling up your spine.

“How so?” you asked. “Like you said, I think my margins speak for themselves, along with my ability to manage projects. I think that’ll translate well with managing the team.”

“But you’ve never managed people,” Nick pointed out. He leaned an arm on the back of the couch, his fingers drawing near to your arm. “Tell you what. I want to keep chatting about this, but I’m getting hungry. Why don’t I order some dinner, and we’ll keep pow-wowing.”

“Actually,” you said, leaning away from his hand. “I have plans this evening.”

He raised a brow. “Oh, yeah? What’re you up to?”

You didn’t feel you had to give him any details about your personal life, let alone that you didn’t actually have plans tonight (except for watching The Princess Bride with George. It was your favorite movie to watch together).

“I’m having dinner with my boyfriend,” you answered with a tight smile.

Your womanly pride hated that you had to use Dean as an excuse, but maybe then your boss would get the hint.

Nick’s lips thinned a bit as he leaned back in his seat. “Hmm, didn’t know you had one of those.”

“You met him,” you replied, arching a brow. “He’s a firefighter, remember?”

Nick nodded, though he made a non-committal sound.

“All right, well, I should go actually. He’s picking me up,” you said.

Though when you moved to stand, Nick’s hand wrapped around your wrist. His eyes met yours meaningfully, edged with interest as he eyed you.

“You sure you can’t stick around?” he asked.

His hold was firm enough to scare you, a subtle gasp catching in your throat when your eyes flicked up to his in warning. You instinctively jerked your hand back.

“Don’t touch me,” you said, even as you hated the slight tremor in your voice. “I’m warning you, Nick. I will go to HR. I don’t care how many lawyers you threaten me with. I’m not interested.”

Nick’s head tilted as he watched you with a frown.

“I hope you think hard, sweetheart.” He relaxed against the couch with arrogance, and it was beginning to make you sick. He crossed his arms as you stood and began to storm out of the office. All the while, his words followed you.

“Think about where you want to end up in this company, and who’s gonna get you there.”

You still had work to do, but you weren’t taking any chances. After you made it back to your office, you grabbed your work laptop and left for home. You had to take several calming breaths as you got into your car and turned the key into the ignition, but your hands still shook.

Then the car spluttered, refusing to start. You blinked, tried it again.

Still, the engine struggled and the dashboard shook.

Damn it, damn it! Don’t do this to me, you silently begged. You knew you should’ve had Dean look the old car over weeks ago. He’d offered more than once, but you kept forgetting. You bit your lip.

“Please,” you whispered. You just wanted to get the hell out of here. You glanced up and around the parking lot to make sure it was still empty, that no one was approaching.

After another painfully long moment of puttering, the car finally grumbled to life. A relieved breath rushed out of your body, and you began to peel out of the parking lot.

I can’t take much more of this, you thought as you drove home.

You also thought about calling Andréa. She still didn’t know all the details about what you were dealing with at the office. In fact, she knew little more than Dean.

And you really wanted to tell Dean. He had a way of calming your nerves and reassuring you when you felt out of sorts…and making you feel safe.

But you also knew how both your best friend and your boyfriend would react. Andréa would force you to go to HR, and then it would undoubtedly get messy. She could even get fired, if Nick was petty about it (and he usually was). You couldn’t afford to lose your job either.

Whereas Dean…

God, he’ll be so pissed, you thought. You had seen just a flash of his jealous side before, with Gordon. And that was one of his friends.

This would be infinitely worse.

Dean was protective. It was literally in his job description, but it was also just who he was as a person, you’d come to find. While you loved that about him, you also couldn’t have him storming your office building to wring Nick’s neck.

You needed your job. And even though you had updated your resume, with how hard you’d been working, you hadn’t had time to start scouring the online job boards…

You blew out a long breath. Your eyes were beginning to burn with frustrated tears. You sniffed and wiped under your eyes in vain.

Damn it, what the hell am I gonna do?

The question burned through your mind over and over, even when you got home. Your grandfather looked up from the show he was watching in the living room when you came in.

“Hey there, stranger,” he said. “Workin’ late?”

“Yeah,” you replied dully. You dumped your purse and workbag on the dining table and continued into the kitchen, not seeing how George frowned.

He slowly got up, wincing and at his aching joints and stifling a wet cough. He paused for a moment as a bout of nausea threatened to bowl him over.

When it passed, after a moment, he straightened. And he followed you into the kitchen, where you were peering into a near empty fridge.

“We barely have anything here,” you said with a sigh. “Okay, guess I’m going to the store. I can pick up something for dinner on the way home.”

“I’ll go with you,” George said. “I’ve been cooped up here all day.”

You shook your head without looking back at him, still making a mental note of everything you needed to buy.

“I heard you coughing. It doesn’t sound like your asthma,” you said, letting out a breath. Add a dash of worry for your grandfather’s health to spruce up your evening.

George sighed.

“Honey,” he tried. You were already shaking your head as you closed the fridge and turned to him with a frown.

“That primary doctor’s an idiot,” you said. “I’m calling your oncologist tomorrow morning.”

You went to grab your phone to set a reminder for yourself, but George stopped you with a hand on your arm.

“Would you stop?” he barked. “Just stop it!”

You blinked wide, and both literally and figurately, you took a step back. He wasn’t one to raise his voice, even when you were a child. But your earlier frustrations already had you on edge, and frankly, this was the last thing you needed.

“What?” you snapped back. “Clearly you need to see the doctor, and I’m not going to let you dismiss whatever it is you’re hiding and don’t want to tell me about! I’m sick of it.”

“Let me?” he said. “That right there is our problem. I’m not a goddamn kid. Damn well ain’t your kid or your responsibility. And I’m sick of you treating me like I already got one foot in the grave!”

You flinched as if he’d physically hurt you. Your eyes inevitably flooded with tears.

George relented when he saw it. He leaned a hand on the kitchen counter to steady himself.

“Look, hun. I’m 82. Every day, I take a stack of pills that sometimes make me feel worse than the damn cancer did. I got no illusions, and I do appreciate everything you do for me,” he said. “But you’re not my caretaker. You’re not my nurse. You’re my granddaughter.”

He grasped your hand with a warm squeeze. You sniffed and shook your head.

“I understand what you’re saying. And maybe…okay, I know I can be overbearing sometimes. But there’s a reality here that you don’t want to face,” you began. Though it was hard, you met his eyes.

“I’m not just your granddaughter,” you said. “I haven’t been since Grandma died. Because I’ve had to be more. Because you’re the only family I have, and I’ll make that choice every time.”

You let go of his hand and took up your purse, wiping at your eyes.

“But if you really want to come to the store, let’s go,” you said.

George stared back at you at a loss. Deep down, he knew there was a good deal of truth in your words, but he still felt like you weren’t quite hearing him.

Still, he followed you to the car.

You got into the driver’s seat of your Camry and briefly closed your eyes in a silent prayer. Then you turned the key in the ignition. The car turned on, to your surprise and relief.

You started the short drive out of your suburban neighborhood and down to the nearest grocery store. It was only 20 minutes away, and traffic wasn’t bad, but somehow the drive seemed to take an eternity on the two-way street. There was grass and forest on the passenger side, and the rest of the city approaching on the other.

Unbidden, your mind kept drifting back to this afternoon in Nick’s office. His words were like tendrils of black, oily ink coiling through your mind.

“I hope you think hard, sweetheart.”

Your hand tightened on the steering wheel, your teeth clenching. You could picture his lazy, arrogant smirk as he leaned back into the couch.

“Think about where you want to end up in this company, and who’s gonna get you there.”

You wanted to take one of his precious golf clubs and take a few swings at the man’s head.

“Something wrong with the car?” George asked.

“What?” you asked, flinching in your seat. But you realized then what he was saying. Your car was shaking, like it was about to stall. What the hell?

None of the service lights on the car were on, but this was a warning sign you couldn’t ignore.

George looked up as you approached a curve. “Slow down!”

Your gaze lifted just in time to see how an SUV from the opposite lane of oncoming traffic was drifting too far into your lane, on the curve. You corrected quickly with a jerk of the steering wheel, but your car jolted and stuck on the wheels’ position, and you couldn’t force it straight again.

It sent the car veering off the road and onto the grass, then tumbling down the hill into a sharp decline. You didn’t see the tree until you were feeling the impact of it hitting the front of the car, and nothing more.

You blinked awake, slowly. The side of your face felt numb as you manage to raise it from the airbag. Blood dripped down your nose over your lips, which you only realized after tasting copper on your tongue. You raised a trembling hand to your mouth and wiped some of it away.

Sucking in a breath, you turned your head. Fuck, that hurt.

“Grandpa? …Grandpa!”

George was still unconscious, though he didn’t look like he was bleeding. His airbag thankfully deployed as well. You looked around for your phone…if you remembered right, it had been in your purse. You looked over, and you saw it by his feet.

Though you were held back by your seatbelt and the airbag, and your whole body felt stiff and aching, you reached over and grabbed the purse’s strap. From there you pulled it towards you, with pained grunts, and whimpers, and shallow breaths.

When you were able to fish out your cell, your blood-stained thumb shook while swiping through your contacts.

You knew you should call 911 first, but your instincts took hold. There was only one person you could call. Your eyes began to burn the longer the line rang. By the time it finally connected, the first tears welled up.

“Hey, baby. Good timing,” Dean answered. He sounded tired. “Was just thinking about calling you.”

Your heart had traveled up into your throat to hear his voice. But now, it was hard to get your tongue to unstick from the roof of your mouth.

“Dean,” you managed, though your throat became clogged with emotion. Your tears blurred your vision and finally slid down your cheeks.

You tried to push at your seatbelt; it felt like it was cutting your circulation across your chest. But that proved to be a mistake, as the tight fabric just pressed into the bruising you already felt forming against your skin. You couldn’t contain a small whimper.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. His tone was more alert now, changed with the distress he likely heard in your voice.

You took in a shuddering breath as more tears rolled down your face.

“I need help.”

Dean had already been home from the bar when you called. But when he heard your voice, full of pain, your plea for help—it was like a stone dropping into his stomach.

“What happened? Where are you?” he asked. Already he was off the couch and looking for his wallet and keys. Sam was crashing at Eileen’s tonight. Dean would have to call him later. He locked the apartment and hastened down the stairs.

You were eventually able to tell him that your car had swerved after locking up on you. That you’d crashed into a ditch, against a tree.

“Grandpa’s with me. He still hasn’t woken up,” you said through tears. “I can’t move—”

“Don’t!” Dean interrupted, another lance of panic running through him. But he gentled, hearing your soft crying. “Don’t move. It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m comin’ to get you. Did you call 911?”

“No…not yet,” you admitted with a sniff.

He nodded to himself. “All right. I’m gonna call this in, make sure they’re on the way.”

“Don’t hang up, please,” you begged.

Dean was torn. He wanted to comfort you, but he knew he needed to get the fire department there as soon as possible.

“I won’t, I promise. Just hold on while I make the call,” he said as he climbed into his car. “I’m going to get the team out to you, okay?”

You sniffled again, but you finally agreed. Dean put you on hold while he called 911. All the while he was driving out of his neighborhood and onto the main road. He gave them his badge number to make sure they knew who he was, and that his girlfriend and her grandfather needed help on 32nd Street and Parker.

After he hung up with the operator, he got back on the line with you and kept you company while he drove. He gave you reassuring words, tried to keep you calm with a few wise cracks to lighten you up. Some of them you seemed to appreciate (others you didn’t).

When he pulled up to the right location, he didn’t see your car at first. That is, until he pulled over to the side of the road. He saw the edge of your bumper just over the slope, and then the rest of your Camry in the ditch. The hood was crumpled like an accordion into a tree, but at least it wasn’t smoking too bad (or on fire).

His heart clenched, but he forced himself to act—with the same fight or flight response he had to overpower with every call he responded to on the job.

Dean climbed out of his car and quickly grabbed the steel Halligan he kept in the trunk. It was essentially a more professional crowbar.

Then he jogged down into the ditch.

He went to the driver’s side first. He saw your tear-streaked face through the window, could hear your muffled voice call his name. He tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Can you unlock it?” he asked.

“I tried earlier,” you said. “It won’t open.”

Dean nodded. “Okay, no problem. Lean back.”

You obliged him, and once he was sure you were ready, Dean used the Halligan to pry the door open. He could’ve busted open the window, but this was safer.

Once the door was cracked open enough, he pushed it the rest of the way so he could get to you. He punctured through the air bag with the sharp end of the Halligan and pushed it down to deflate it a bit. It allowed you to grab onto his arm, and he reached for you, cupping your cheek and wiping at your tears with his thumb.

“Dean…”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he said, when you tearfully squeezed his arm. He noticed the drying blood around your nose and stained down your blouse. You were still dressed for work.

“Dean-o, hey,” said George from the passenger side. He was awake, but his eyes were half-lidded.

“Hey, George,” Dean nodded with a smile, to hide his concern. “How’re you doin’ over there?”

“Okay,” George tried, but it ended on a wet cough.

“Check on him. Please,” you asked. Dean nodded, but first, he leaned in a pressed a kiss to your forehead, letting out a subtle breath of relief. You closed your eyes, and a couple more tears slipped down. You squeezed his hand gratefully.

“Stay put for me,” he said. You hummed in agreement. And by now he could hear the sirens of an ambulance nearby.

Good, he thought, especially when he went over to the passenger side and wrenched the door open. He leaned George back in his seat, away from the airbag, and measured his pulse at his clammy wrist. It was a bit too fast for Dean’s liking.

“I’m good, right?” George asked. He was pale and sweating.

“That’s right. You’re gonna be hittin’ the roller disco in no time,” Dean said. George smiled in amusement, letting out a huff.

Dean smirked, then gave you a reassuring look. “The paramedic’s coming now. Just keep taking even breaths for me.”

A couple of minutes later, two paramedics came with a board and a neck brace to carry someone out. Dean recognized them from the shift opposite to his: Ed and Harry. They were a couple of chuckle brothers, but they did their job well. Dean instructed them to get George out first, and he helped them do it.

“We’re going to get to you next, ma’am,” Ed told you.

“Is he okay?” you asked. Worry for your grandfather was steeped in your watery eyes.

“They’re taking him up to the ambulance now. Another one’s coming for you,” Dean said. He was on his way back over to your side of the car, but he hurried when he saw you trying to get out. Apparently you’d managed to unclip your seatbelt when he wasn’t looking.

“Whoa, hey! What’re you doing?” Dean said. You gave him a small heart attack when you nearly fell out of the car on your shaky legs. He guided you back to sit, but you were adamant about getting out.

“I don’t want to wait,” you said sternly, though the effect was hampered by the way your voice also trembled.

“Okay, okay. I gotcha,” Dean nodded, but he urged you to let him help. He was careful in how he slipped his arms behind your back and under your knees. “Any sharp pain? In your neck, anywhere else?”

Truthfully, your neck did hurt. But it wasn’t that bad, you reasoned. The rest was just aches and bruises you were sure you would have later. You rested against his chest.

“I’m okay,” you said. Your arm curled around his shoulder while your free hand laid against his chest. “Thank you.”

Dean sighed and pressed another kiss to your hair, and then your forehead before he made his way up the slope with you in his arms. Once he got back onto the road, he spoke to Donna Hanscum, the police officer who’d arrived at the scene. She worked in the same precinct as his father and Jody.

You briefly explained what happened to cause the crash—the SUV drifting and your car locking up out of your control. Donna took notes all the while. Dean then let her know that he was taking you to the hospital.

“She really should wait for the ambulance,” Donna said, though her eyes were kind, taking in your tear-streaked face and the way you clung to Dean. She might have to visit you later for a more detailed statement, but she knew an honest mistake when she saw one.

“Eh, I’m saving them a trip,” Dean said. “That’s gas and labor cuttin’ costs right there.”

Donna shook her head, despite a smile.

“All right, Dean. Just go.” She gave you one last look of sympathy. “Feel better, hun. Looks like you’re in good hands.”

You nodded with a small smile. Letting out a breath, you closed your eyes and relaxed against Dean.

Dean stayed with you in the Emergency Department while a nurse cleaned the blood from your face, took your vitals, and tested your vision and hearing.

Your blood pressure was high, but that was to be expected. All else fell into the realm of normal, considering. Though when the nurse checked your neck, you grimaced a little when she slowly turned your head from side to side.

“Hmm. Scale of 1 to 10 on the pain?” she asked.

You glanced at Dean, who raised his brows at you expectantly. That look said, Tell the truth.

“I don’t know…4,” you replied.

The nurse gave you a knowing glance. “You can be honest. Is it a 4, or more like a 6?”

You bit your lip. “Okay, a 5.”

“All right. That’s understandable,” she said. The nurse then grabbed a brace to set around your neck. “The doctor will be in shortly to check you out, but likely she’ll order some X-rays, and possibly prescribe you something short-term for the pain.”

You sighed in annoyance. “How long will that take? I need to see my grandfather.”

“Want me to check on him again?” Dean asked. Now that the nurse was done, he came over to where you were sitting on the edge of the examining bed to rest a hand on your back.

He’d made sure George was stable and comfortable in his own room. The ED doctor had ordered blood tests, among other things, since he was a former cancer patient. But also because he had a fever and an elevated blood pressure that didn’t seem to just be related to the crash. He was now sleeping while the hospital ran the rest of their tests.

You turned to Dean with red-rimmed, tear-filled eyes. “I want to see him.”

Dean slipped an arm around you and tucked you against him more securely.

“You will, sweetheart. You just need to get checked out first,” he said. He was worried about you. You seemed all right, but he didn’t like your tendency to forget about yourself. Sometimes, you were a bit too much like him.

You sighed in defeat (for now). But after a moment, your small voice broke through the quiet.

“I should’ve let you look at the car,” you said.

Dean glanced down at you and caught the guilt written across your face. His brows knit together as his heart clenched again.

“Don’t do that,” he said with a sigh. “It’s not your fault.”

“My car, my goddamn fault,” you said through tears.

“Stop, baby,” Dean said. He held you closer, laying a kiss on the top of your head while you tried to stifle your tears.

He waited with you until the doctor finally arrived to examine you. She spotted the same things as the nurse, and after another hour of X-rays (clean of any breaks) and tests (all ultimately fine), she prescribed you an anti-inflammatory pain killer, as well as rest. And of course, if your pain worsened, you were to come back to the ED.

After the doctor left for the last time, Dean agreed to walk you down to your grandfather’s hospital room. George was awake, though he seemed groggy with the pain medication they had him on through the IV. He greeted you and Dean with an attempt at a smile.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he said. His hand turned over to welcome yours, and he squeezed, seeing the tears in your eyes. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, sniffling. “I’m good. How’re you feeling?”

Your gaze drifted to his chart, to the medications and fluids they had him on, what tests were listed…

George’s hand tugged on yours, pulling your attention back to him.

“They’ve got it in hand. Don’t you worry about me,” he said.

You flickered at a smile, as you both knew that wasn’t in the cards. In fact, you’d barely been sitting down on the edge of his bed for a couple of minutes before you were asking if the recline of his bed was comfortable. If he needed more water, or another blanket.

George responded negatively to most of your questions, though he shot Dean an imploring look over your head. The other man nodded and gently grasped your shoulders.

Dean could see why you were blustering around—so you wouldn’t crack from anxiety and exhaustion. But he needed to stop you before you hurt yourself. (Not to mention, before you drove George crazy.)

“Hey, come ‘ere a sec,” said Dean. He guided you into a nearby chair and soothed a hand over your hair. He kneeled down next to you and grabbed your hand. You let out a breath and held onto him back.

“You need to take it easy, okay? Need to,” Dean said, in a quiet but firm tone he didn’t often use with you. He reached for the slip of paper the doctor gave you, now stuffed in your purse. “Everything’s gonna get taken care of. You just relax here, and I’m going to go fill out your prescription.”

Dean waited for you to meet his eyes; he was only satisfied when you nodded in acceptance. He gave you a smile, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. It was comfort and relief, for both of you.

You held him there for a moment with a hand on his cheek. Your fingers traced across his brow, and down his jawline. If it were even possible, after everything he’d done today, you were never more grateful for him than in this moment.

George watched the little scene from his bed with a soft smile.

Finally, he thought. And it meant many things.

After Dean reluctantly pulled away, he promised he’d be back soon. He then left to take your prescription to the closest pharmacy, also fishing out his phone to call Sam and let him know what was going on at the hospital.

Dean had a feeling you all were going to be here for a while.

AN: *exhales* Okay. 😅 A lot going on in this chapter. Another piece of the puzzle, more of why Nick needs his ass handed to him, and a dramatic save. Let me know what you thought!

And please forgive me for where we're going next...

Next Time:

Dean held your face, brushing the tears away with his thumbs.

“Hey, I’m here, all right? Just let me help you,” he said. “You can lean on me when you need to.”

“I haven’t had that in a long time,” you admitted. “Part of me doesn’t know how to lean.”

“I get that,” Dean said. But you both knew that there was a long and difficult road ahead. He knew he didn’t have to remind you of it. “Whatever you need, you just tell me, okay? If nothing else, I’ve got a strong pair of shoulders.”

Somehow, you smiled. You pressed your forehead against his chest and inhaled deeply, to steady yourself.

“That you do, Lieutenant.”

Keep Reading: PART 11

Dean Winchester Masterlist

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#Toil and Trouble #Smoke Eater #Part 10 #dean winchester #Firefighter!Dean Winchester #dean winchester x reader #Dean Winchester x female reader #firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reader #dean winchester x you #firefighter AU #dean winchester AU #Castiel #Sam winchester #spn #supernatural #zepskies writes

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builtbybrokenbells · 1 year

Text

Gold Dust Woman | vi

Y/n quickly learns how to atone for a mistake that she was not aware she ever made.

Read part five here

Pairing: jake kiszka x f!reader, sam kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 18k (sorry 😭)

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex (borderline hate fucking 🫣), oral (m!receiving), oral (f!receiving, face-fucking, fingering, choking, impact play, degradation, praise, edging/orgasm denial, overstimulation, dirty talk, dom/sub, touch of bratty sub, sex in a semi-public place, possessiveness, jealousy, love triangle themes, swearing, touch of sadness/angst, but this is mostly just porn with a hint of plot. Sorry if I miss any!

hello everyone, it’s so wonderful to be back 😁 thank you for all of your kind words so far 🫶🏻 please enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes! this very is lightly edited

Three days. It had been three long, gruelling days since you had heard a word from Jake. Worse than that, it had been three days since you had even heard a faint whisper of his name, or a withering idea that he still existed on the same realm as you. No calls, no texts, not even a glimpse of him in public, hidden away in a corner of his most favourite stores. Not even a wisp of hair blowing as he rounded a street corner. No likes on social media posts; he was not even lurking in the comment section of mutual friends pages. He had ceased to exist, and as much as you liked to pretend that it didn’t bother you, it was excruciating. So much so, that you’d found yourself withdrawn from the normal day to day routine, floating through with no real enjoyment. You were constantly checking your phone or getting excited when you heard a notification, only to be crushed at the realization that it wasn’t him. You found yourself absentmindedly checking for him in every room you entered, every street or store you found yourself in, and every single time you left the house.

The agony of missing him extended far beyond the simple fact of the matter. It leeched into every aspect of your life in the most twisted and rotten ways. Simple pleasures no longer existed; the beauty in song sounded with less comfort, colours in paintings a little less vibrant, sugar a little less sweet. Sure, life would go on indefinitely, but it would be miserable, at least for the foreseeable future. Or, until he decided to grace you with his presence again. You braved the storm the only way you knew how: with a smile on your face, and no hint that anything was wrong in the first place. But, no matter how wide you smiled, or how sore your cheeks were from faking it, it never seemed to diminish the residual ache in your chest.

In truth, Jake was not the only one that disappeared. You had spoken to Danny only a number of times, which was incredibly unusual. He was busy in the studio, refining his drum work for the last touches on their album. When he wasn’t doing that, they were rehearsing for their upcoming tour. If that was finished, they were stuck in interviews and meetings. You knew he was genuinely busy, and in no way would he ever use it as an excuse to ignore you, but it did suck. He was your best friend, your home away from home, and missing him may also have had an effect on the way you missed Jake. You were lonely, and that was one thing you despised more than anything else in the world. Your stubbornness was stronger than your hatred of isolation, only worsening the suffering. Instead of reaching out to anyone, you waited until they had time to come back around. Your nagging fear of being forgotten about was brutal, and the more time that passed, the more you felt like it was crushing you.

At first, you chalked up Jakes absence to work, the same reason Danny hadn’t been able to visit. The first day it worked, but about halfway through, you thought the lack of communication was quite curious. By that evening, it was evident he was ignoring you. By day two, you were sure you’d permanently ruined your relationship with him, and by the third day, you were certain he hated you. You were not sure what the fourth would bring, and you were anything but eager to know. You had faith in him, wanting to ignore your brains incessant speculation on his behalf. You knew Jake to be sincere, and there was no way he would have spent those days with you playing house just to drop you the next day. That’s what you repeated to yourself, hoping that you were correct. Hoping that today would be the day his name graced your phone screen.

Your relationship with Sam hadn’t seemed to progress, either. Sure, you both texted, although dry by times. He’d confessed his utter enjoyment of the night you spent wrapped around each other, and you had too. He was scared of vulnerability, knowing he cared for you far more than he originally thought, and how dangerous that was. You were scared, too, because you felt the same, and his seemingly sudden withdrawal of interest had hurt you. You were both scared of getting hurt, without the realizing that you already were. It was much like anticipating a gunshot after getting stabbed. He had taken you out on a dinner date the day prior, albeit with an air of casualness. It was still nice, filled with laughter and small jokes, but didn’t stem any further than a make out session in his car, similar to the likes of two horny teenagers.

You thought you should take Jakes absence as a sign to pursue Sam. You were falling for him, even more than you were before the weekend full of events. You enjoyed everything you had done together, and knew that it was likely the right choice to make. Perhaps Jake had pulled out of the race, realized that it was foolish and wanted to put it to a civil end. Still, there was a part of you that wasn’t done with him, yet. Still craving him, aching for his touch and his love. Even if you attempted a relationship with Sam so soon, it would end in just as big of a disaster. So you waited, hoping that Jake had just stopped for a breather rather than changed course completely. It was feeble, but it was the only thought that gave you any type of comfort in the three days you’d gone without him.

You went to work Monday and Tuesday with little motivation. You felt bad about your lack of interest in your clients, but they never really seemed to notice. They were there to record music, not get a round of applause every time they completed a solo. Despite that, you still held some guilt over the distant nature you had clung to, realizing that it was very out of your character to be so uninterested in your work. Wednesday was no different. You crawled out of bed feeling like weights were tied to your ankles. You wished you could stay, hide under the protection of the blankets and sleep away the hollow feeling that was residing inside you. You showered and dressed yourself with your eyes half-closed, floating through the morning like a phantom of yourself. Toast was the only thing you could choke down, and you had stopped to get an extra large coffee on your way, just to motivate you to make it to lunch.

Your first two appointments were a daze, nothing memorable and a struggle to sit through. When the bands left, you apologized for your lack of energy and made a promise to have their samples ready by the weekend. Secretly, you were grateful they had only booked short sessions rather than an entire day, just so you could have a moment alone. Before lunch, you locked your office door and chipped away at paperwork you had long forgotten about. Once the stack was much less daunting, you did some work on the audio clips patiently waiting in your queue. By the time noon rolled around, you were all but hungry and more than ready for your inevitable return home. Thankfully, the receptionist had taken it upon herself to grab you a sandwich and a coffee when she stepped out. It gave you something to pick away at while the afternoon dragged on.

You were not dependant on Jake. You knew that if a few more days passed, the debilitating loss would resolve into a residual sadness. Sure, you would miss him, but it would be less catastrophic than it felt in that moment. What shook you to your core was not his disappearance, but the lack of communication beforehand. For him to be so involved, certain that you were what he wanted, and then gone without a trace. It gave you whiplash, falling for him so fast and then having to question if he ever existed at all. You wanted him, and it was obvious, but you were not willing to chase after him if he was showing such a blatant lack of interest in you. He had turned you into a complete fool for him, but you were desperate to cling onto your last shred of self-respect.

A knock on your door sounded, making you fight back an eye roll. Apparently, the busy sign that was glowing outside the room was easy to ignore. You stood, removing your headphones and pausing the clip on your laptop. You unlocked the knob, slowly turning it and revealing the disturbance. Your grumpy expression quickly changed once you registered who was on the other side. You stepped out of the way, inviting him in wordlessly. You closed the door behind him as he moved to take a seat on the couch.

“Rockstar finally had some free time in his schedule?” You smiled.

“Was in the neighbourhood, thought I would stop and say hello.” Danny answered, leaning back into the cushions. “Seems like I’m not the only busy one. Receptionist said you weren’t taking any walk-ins.” He chuckled.

“So you charmed your way up here?” You teased, sitting back down in your chair.

“You know me too well.” Your heart warmed at his soft smile. “She’s kind of automated. Told me that as soon as I said your name, recognized me when she finally looked up.” You nodded along with his explanation, agreeing with the observation.

“Yeah, she kind of has to be. People are pushy, we’re a popular spot. Gets her through the day.” You shrugged. “You guys not working today?” You addressed them all as a group, itching to ask about Jake, but knowing it was better not to. He shook his head.

“No, took a day to just relax.” You could tell he was lying. It was always easy to tell when Danny was lying. He wasn’t looking at you, he was fidgeting with the loose thread decorating the ripped fabric of his jeans. You watched him, wanting to catch his eye so you wouldn’t have to verbally pry the truth from him. After a moment, he looked up through his eyelashes, regretting the decision almost immediately. When he met your knowing stare, he cracked immediately. “We were, this morning.” He admitted. “We decided it would be best to take the day and regroup tomorrow. Didn’t get much done.”

“Why not?” You asked, genuinely curious. Usually they worked really well together. In your time of knowing them, they never seemed to lack in the productivity department. He avoided the question at first, unsure of how to answer it. After a while of uncomfortable silence, he shifted in his seat and fully turned to you.

“Jake has been fucking insufferable.” He sighed. Just from the sound of his tone, you could tell he wasn’t there to question you. He was a friend who needed to rant, and his options were limited due to the relations of his band mates. You let out a laugh, finding his blunt words funny. You knew that if Danny was willing to put it like such, Jake must have been horrific to be around. “Have any insight?” He asked, hoping for an answer.

“I haven’t talked to him since we went to brunch.” You admitted. It seemed like once the words left your mouth, it clicked in his brain.

“Your choice, or his?” You shifted under his gaze.

“Him, I think. I haven’t really reached out, either, I guess.” It was a lie; the separation was for certain Jake’s choice, and you had spent the first day blowing up his phone. You thought maybe that you had driven him even further away with your initial inquires.

“So he misses you!” Danny laughed, teasing you almost instantly. Your cheeks burned red, embarrassed at the idea and wishing he would keep his voice down.

“Shut up!” You scolded, but you couldn’t help but feel relief at the idea Jake was suffering, too. “If he misses me so much, he can come and see me!” But your argument was not heard over the sound of his laughter. He was worried there was a blowout, one that had left you both confused and angry. Instead, you were both playing the immature game of ‘who’s going to text first?’ He had to admit, the knowledge did make him feel better, knowing that one of you was bound to give in, and likely very soon.

“You guys are ridiculous!” He said, taking a long breath to calm himself down. Your childish anger was only adding more humour to an already funny situation, fuelling his hysterics even further. “For the love of god, talk to him before he goes crazy. Before he drives all of us crazy.”

“He started it!” You attempted to justify your lack of reaching out. “I tried at first, and he didn’t answer. He can drive himself crazy all he wants, but I’m not chasing after him.” You crossed your arms over your chest, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. Danny shook his head, a grin eating away at his face.

“What are you, five?” He chided. “Please, for my sake, just invite him over or something. I cannot handle him anymore.”

“Is that the only reason you came to see me?” You questioned, trying to change the subject.

“Obviously not!” He defended. “I wanted to see you.”

“Mhm,” you rolled your eyes. “If you’re here to see me, then I would appreciate no further comments on my love life, please.”

“Fine, but if he doesn’t cheer up soon, I’m going to go insane.” He warned, but there was an evident tone of humour in his words. He fell into a silence, thinking hard about how to word his next question. “How’s your Jake-stinence going?” You raised an eyebrow in inquiry, not quite sure what he meant. “Like abstinence… but from Jake. Get it?” You turned towards your desk, eyes landing on a blank sheet of paper. You grabbed it, crumpling it in your fist, and threw it at him. It bounced off his forehead and tumbled into his lap in a graceful manner, resulting in him shooting you a look of shock. “Not good, I take it. You’re as grumpy as he is.”

“I said no talk about you-know-who.” You pointed a finger at him in warning.

“Okay, okay.” He conceded. “He’s been demoted to Voldemort status.” He promised. You both shared a wordless stare, but eventually dissolved into a fit of giggles.

“I missed you.” You finally cracked, shedding the tough exterior. All of the turmoil you had been feeling from the last few days seemed to melt away. Danny had the ability to make even the worst situations seem bright just with his company.

“I missed you too, bug.”

The two of you chatted away, mostly just mindless and lighthearted conversation, but it seemed to satiate the ache that had been permanent for the past few days. You worked away, happy that you didn’t have any more appointments so you didn’t have to worry about cutting the hangout short. Somewhere along the way, you’d even managed to find your appetite. You finished the sandwich your receptionist had so graciously given you. By the time four o’clock rolled around, you were almost completely finished with your work. With your new spark of energy, you figured a little more time would get you ahead of the pile of procrastination you had accumulated.

“I think I need to get going.” Danny sighed, regretful for having to leave. “I think you-know-who’s brother is on his way to my place.” He said as he checked his phone.

“He’s also you-know-who.” You corrected.

“How are we going to tell the difference between them, then? At least call them Thing 1 and Thing 2, or something.”

“That’s the point. We aren’t going to be talking about them, remember?” You reminded him. He gave a slow nod, knowing that you wouldn’t stick to your word. As much as you hated discussing your problems, he always had a way of getting you to talk.

“You leaving soon, too?” You shook your head, motioning to your desk.

“I think I’m gonna stay late. I have a few things I need to get done before the weekend, and I’m feeling up to it, today.” You explained, receiving a nod in return. “Thanks for coming. I always love your company.” You smiled.

“It was my pleasure, bug.” You stood to give him a hug, unable to resist the temptation. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly as a silent apology for not seeing you sooner. You rested your head on his chest, eyes closed in bliss. The comfort you were surrounded in was impenetrable, more than you’d felt since you had your brunch date with him. “Call me if you’re bored later, I’m sure we can find something to do.”

“Sounds good to me.” You said, reluctant to let go. Eventually, you parted with him and bid a small goodbye. Once he disappeared through the door, you collapsed back in your chair.

You took a moment to decompress from the company before turning back to your laptop screen. You knew the rest of the staff would be heading out around four-thirty, so you called down to the front desk to let them know not to wait up for you. You took your phone out, checking to see if Jake had messaged, just in case. When you were met with a blank screen and a sinking feeling in your stomach, you turned on some music to fill the stale air. You worked away, finding your productivity lessen without Danny around. Still, you persevered in hopes that it would distract you from the creeping loneliness that was catching back up to you. The thought of returning home to an empty house was gut-wrenching, and you didn’t want to bother Danny and Sam in fear of intruding. Work seemed like the best option for you, and work you did. It distracted you enough that you almost missed the second disturbance of the day.

A gentle knock sounded on the door, which you thought was quite peculiar. You looked at your clock, noting that it was around the time everyone was headed home. You figured it was either the receptionist stopping by to bid a goodnight, or Danny coming back because he forgot something. You turned to the couch, eyes scouring the cushions to see if there was a forgotten phone or wallet, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. You thought it must be a coworker, as Danny likely would have noticed something was missing long before now. Another knock sounded, a bit more imminent than the last, breaking you out of your internal brooding indefinitely. You weren’t sure why you were stalling; maybe because you had no energy for another social interaction, or perhaps because you were determined to get the work finished. You figured you shouldn’t let whoever it was wait any longer in case it was something important.

You stood, making your way towards the door. Before you could open it, another knock came through. You had to admit, the persistence did strike you as annoying, but you tried not to let it bother you. When the door swung open, revealing the source of the disturbance, you were certain your heart stopped beating for a moment. With wide eyes, you took in the sight, drinking in every detail and finding yourself speechless. Three days was not a long time, but it seemed like an eternity to you. Somehow, in the lesser half of a week, he only seemed to present even more beautifully than he did in the days before. The desire to be with him was unfathomable when he wasn’t accessible, but now that he was within an arms reach, it was tormenting you worse than it ever had.

Jake stood, wordless with a shadow of indignation dancing in his eyes. Simple clothes, just a t-shirt and jeans, with his hair loosely hanging over his shoulders and his sunglasses decorating the neck of the shirt. His simplicity was astounding; it didn’t matter what he was wearing, he was always gorgeous. His cologne was like a punch to the stomach, something you didn’t realize you even missed until it was shoved in your face. It felt like an addiction. You bargained for days that you could go without him, live life without the comfort of his company. The minute he showed up, as soon as he became available, you knew you were lying to yourself. A lifetime without Jake could be enjoyable, sure, but never completely fulfilling. All of the contempt for his actions, the anger you had felt over his disappearance was gone in an instant, replaced with the undying urge to reach out and touch him, for him to touch you.

“Long time no see, Gold Dust Woman.” His tone was flat, the nickname that usually held an air of adoration was cold, now. He was angry, and Danny was correct about that, but he was mad at you. If the reunion went well, you made sure to note that you would never ignore him again, intentional or not. More so than anger him, it seemed to hurt him, and that was something you never wanted to do.

“Jake,” you breathed, still finding yourself unable to move from your position. You wanted to reach out to him, to invite him in, but you couldn’t seem to conjure the strength to do it. That feeling was partially reliant on the idea that he did not want you to. You were caught in a standoff, neither of you wanting to be the first to move, but both of you needing each other more than words could express. Your gaze drifted over his face, features so alluring and inviting. For a split second, his eyes caught yours. It shook you to your core, making you want to fall to your knees and grovel at his feet. In that moment, you would do anything to feel even a fraction of the love in his touch that you had experienced before. Even if it was angry, a shell of what it was the few days prior, it would be worth the world and more.

As if the eye contact sparked the same realization in him, he stepped forward without warning. His hands landed on your hips and he pulled you into a kiss. Your arms shot up, wrapping around his neck and pulling him closer. With one kiss, he managed to silence every worry before it even had a chance to surface. Without breaking apart, you both stepped into the room a bit further. He kicked the door shut behind him, not willing to take the chance of someone interrupting. It was a messy show of desperation, his hands wandering to any available part of you, making up for lost time. When you finally parted, your lips were swollen and you were fighting for air.

“You disappeared,” you stated, chest heaving in attempt to catch up on the lack of oxygen.

“Good observation.” He muttered, not having the heart to ignore you any longer, but it was evident that he wasn’t interested in talking. His hands were already wandering under the hem of your shirt, begging for you to let him slip it over your head. As much as you wanted to deny it, to stop him for a moment to resolve the problem before jumping straight to sex, you couldn’t. The feeling of his hands on your skin was exhilarating, satiating the craving that could only ever be solved by him. You lifted your arms, complying to his request with no hesitation. Once your shirt was discarded, he turned and locked the door, just as a precaution. “Got here just in time. Receptionist was leaving, told me you were still up here.”

“Surprised she let you in.” You responded, feeling the sting of cool air attack your bare skin.

“Didn’t want to. Calling you my girlfriend really persuaded her.” His gruff explanation was paired with the action of him pushing you towards the couch. He said it with such simplicity, like it was a completely normal title and he had no problem announcing it. It made your stomach churn, the knowledge that it was a lie stinging a little more than it should have. You didn’t have time to dwell, because once you reached the sofa, he made quick work at sitting down and pulling you into his lap.

You adjusted easily, straddling him like it was the most natural thing in the world. His fingers snaked around to your back, unclasping your bra and throwing it to the floor alongside your shirt.

“Why the hell were you ignoring me?” You question was followed by a sharp gasp; he’d already buried his face in your chest and pulled one of your nipples into his mouth. The sensation caused an involuntary grind of your hips against him. His actions were only gentle for a moment, the tender care he showed you initially was quickly replaced with his annoyance. Cautiously, he sunk his teeth into the sensitive bud, eliciting a hiss from you. Your grip on his bicep tightened, shocked at the suddenness of his action. You could already tell that his intent was not to cater to you. He was pissed off, so much so that it had taken three days for him to recover enough to punish you for it.

You had no idea that his unanswered calls would get under his skin so badly, and if anything, you thought it was quite childish. Three days of complete silence over a bruised ego seemed a little extreme. Perhaps his frustration was bleeding in to you as well, causing a spark of anger towards him. “Answer me.” You snapped, unable to find a sympathetic bone in your body. The harsh words hit him the same as if you punched him in the face. He broke from you, eyes immediately shooting up to your face. There was a fire blazing behind his pupils, the muscle in his jaw tense with annoyance at your demand.

“Shut up.” He spat, no willingness to answer questions about why he withdrew. His eyes lingered for only a moment before pulling you into another kiss. You could feel the rage radiating from his skin; it was laced within his kiss, bleeding into your mouth and knotting around your throat. The sensation was electrifying, so good that you didn’t even notice that it was killing you. In that moment, you hated him, furious that he refused to tell you why he left, but you were so in love with the feeling of his hands that you couldn’t stop him. You were aching for relief, but it was far beyond sexual gratification. His absence hurt you for reasons much bigger than sex, even if you thought it impossible to communicate it. As much as you wanted to ignore it, to give in to his demands and burning touch, you couldn’t.

“I can’t,” you pulled back, breaking free from his spell. Even as the words came out of your mouth, you wanted to take them back. The temptation of Jake was greater than any other force you’d ever felt before. “I can’t have sex with you unless we talk.” The first wise decision you had made since the beginning had finally surfaced. The lack of malice in your statement struck him differently than your previous comments. For a brief moment, he paused. You had hurt him, undoubtedly, but he finally realized that he had hurt you, too. The defensive nature you had both previously adorned was beginning to crumble away. When he looked into your eyes, his heart ached at the harshness he had greeted you with.

The crack in the wall slowly spread, branching into all directions. The sound was deafening.

Instantaneously, the truth seeped through the weakened defence, settling in your bones and taking over; the game you were playing with each other evolved into something much greater than casual sex. You cared about each other, enough so that whatever happened had caused genuine pain. You were invested enough to be hurt, and now you weren’t sure how to slow down. “We can talk while we fuck.” He bargained, less aggressive than his initial stance. He was still angry, but it had dissipated the moment he saw you. Now that he was touching you, aching to be with you the same way you were, it was residual rather than overwhelming. He didn’t want to admit that his request was due to his need for you, still unable to jump over the barrier limiting him from being vulnerable. He wanted to talk, to work out the situation and go back to the way things were in the first few days, but his need for communication was minimal compared to his need for you.

You couldn’t find a good argument to counter his proposal, so you agreed. Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea, but at the time it seemed right. When you didn’t contest, he shifted below you, keeping one hand on your back for support, and easily laid you down on the couch. You knew that sex in your office was likely not the best place, but you also knew you couldn’t withstand a drive back to your house. You could only hope that the janitors started on the first floor, knowing that you were in for one hell of a ride. He fumbled with the buttons on your jeans, barely warning you before those were on the floor, too. You were left in just your underwear, skin tingling with the frigid air. When he finally took a moment to look over you, exposed underneath him once more, he felt the crushing weight of his adoration for you wash over him, overshadowing any other emotion he was feeling in the moment. His expression almost looked pained, striking a worry within you. In truth, the pain was due to the knowledge in his brain that he could lose you, and he knew just how easy it would be. Missing you had become so difficult that he couldn’t even play into his own game anymore. He couldn’t imagine a lifetime without you if he lost the race.

“You want to talk?” He hummed, breaking out of his internal brooding almost immediately. His voice was low, dangerous almost, like the question in itself was a trap. He leaned down over you, his lips ghosting over your stomach. The light tickle of his mouth sent a shiver down your spine, so unsettling yet still so beautiful all at the same time. “To keep pretending that you don’t know what you did?” A fizzle of panic struck, unsure what he meant by the question. Soon after, regret formed at the memory of his missed calls, the ones that sounded when you were too busy buried in his brother. “I warned you, angel. Being a tease is not how you get what you want. Ignoring me, talking back, not listening…” he trailed off, mouth still barely hovering over you. He’d made it to your navel, his breath tickling the skin just above your panty line. You would be lying if you said you didn’t wish for him to continue. He wasn’t even touching you and you were a mess for him. He brought his mouth to you, a placing gentle kiss to you. It was barely noticeable, but it was the greatest gift he ever could have given you. You had no shame in the shaky breath that escaped your lips, no longer shy about the effect he had on you.

“I’m going to do the talking, and you’re going to listen.” He said, finally looking up at you. At the sight of his face, all of your morals faded away. Any idea of argument was long forgotten, and any need to contest his authority ceased to exist. You were at his disposal, completely under his command and just grateful to have the opportunity. Your pleasure was second to his; you were willing to make up for whatever you had done to hurt him, and if that meant allowing him to do whatever he pleased with you, that was more than alright. Despite his disappearance and his angry exterior, he was still the same Jake you had been lucky enough to experience before. You knew that no matter how upset he was with you, he would take care of you and your comfort. You trusted him more than you cared to admit. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.” You whispered. His hand slowly connected with your cunt, the thin material of your underwear barely diminishing the euphoric feeling of his fingers on you.

“You only speak when I give you permission.” He added, making sure the rule was clear. “Unless you want me to stop or slow down.” He was quick to ensure that was understood. He looked to you, both of you knowing he wanted verbal clarification before he continued.

“Okay, baby.” You promised. The pet name seemed to cause a short-circuit in his brain, almost making him forget what his intentions were. At the sound of such a sweet word he’d been craving to hear for so many days, he considered throwing the act to the side and coddling you, admitting that he was in the wrong for letting his jealousy get in the way. The continual battle of fighting back vulnerability was exhausting, and every time he looked it you it grew harder to withstand.

“That’s my girl.” He broke from your stare, muttering the praise in attempt to distract himself from the internal struggle of wanting to love you and being afraid. His fingers were barely touching you, the pressure against you minimal, but the touch so inviting. “Need to show me that you can behave, angel. So far, you haven’t done a very good job at it.” He explained, eager to get the last piece of clothing off of you, but opting to tease you instead. He found it too easy to give in to you, to give you whatever you wanted, and he was trying to resist it. His anger was still strong, pulsing through his veins, but now it was less so to do with you, and more so due to him allowing himself to wind up in this situation all over again. He swore the last time that he would never allow Sam the chance to steal someone away from him. This time, he was certain that his head start would allow him the upper hand, but somehow his brother had bested him once more. The stakes were too high, the idea of Sam touching you was excruciating, and he feared that his own bruised feelings had given his brother the opportunity he had been so desperate to avoid.

In complete transparency, in the three days he spent away from you, the thought of letting go did surface, but not because he was willing to give you up. It was mostly because he knew the loss of you would be devastating. It was in protection of his own feelings, and ignoring your messages was admittedly one of the hardest things he had ever done. Now that he was with you, touching you, seeing you in the beautiful light that you were always surrounded with, the thought was blasphemous. Jake was in the race until the very end, until you ultimately made the decision yourself. He may have started the game with the belief he was in control, but he now he knew he wasn’t. For a moment, he believed Sam was the master, but that wasn’t true, either. You held the power, even if you didn’t believe it. The choice was yours, and all they could do was pray that it was them who would come out on top. Much like his brother, he adorned the same attitude, knowing that a brief time with you was better than never having you at all, even knowing that it might not be him you chose.

In some sense, you felt like your decision was already made. With his hands on you, his eyes burning into you, and his cologne surrounding you, the choice seemed easy. Your undeniable feelings for him were growing more by the day; his disappearance only solidified that. When Jake was around you, the decision to love him was simple. You wanted to be with him, to be loved by him, and you weren’t sure if it would ever go away. Then again, when he was gone, replaced by the company of Sam, the right thing seemed to be different, to follow your initial path in pursuing Sam. You had no idea what to do, or when to do it. You didn’t want to stay in limbo forever, always bouncing back and fourth and never able to make a decision, but the idea of losing either of them was indescribably painful.

“What are you thinking about, sweetheart?” His words shot through you like a bullet, shattering any doubt. You wanted to be with Jake, and until you had the courage to say it aloud for certain with no fear of doubling back, you would enjoy having him for the time being. You hadn’t been with him for long enough to know for sure, and that’s what you repeated in your head to bargain with your indecision.

“You,” You whispered, and it was the truth. He was all you could think about, all of the time. It was unbearable, but fantastic all the same. His fingers were still dancing over the thin fabric concealing you, giving you a taste of relief but not even close to enough to satisfy. You knew that he was going to push you until you couldn’t think straight, make you forget anything other than his name, and you were okay with it. You missed him so much that you would take anything, even if it were him telling you he hated you. Being hated by Jake was better than being nothing to him.

“Are you telling me the truth?” He asked.

“Of course I am.” You breathed, squirming beneath his heavy stare. You were throbbing, aching for him to stop teasing you and get to the point, but you bit your tongue. If you were to talk back to him, you feared he would get up and leave. You were certain he could tell how turned on you were; he was dragging it out as punishment. He noticed your discomfort, knowing immediately the cause. He could see how badly you wanted him just from your expression, and it was exactly what he was hoping for. A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, the closest thing to a smile he had given you since he showed up.

“Let’s talk, angel.” He said, slowing his movements to a stop. “If you keep telling me the truth, I’ll give you what you want. If you lie to me…” he trailed off, eyes drifting over you as he pondered the best choice of words. “You probably don’t want to find out what will happen.” He said, his smirk growing into a sadistic little smile. You didn’t like the look in his eye, but the temptation of the reward was too large to resist.

“Okay, let’s talk.” You agreed. He settled himself on his knees between your legs, leaning in close to you. He turned his head to the side, placing a few kisses to the inside of your thigh before beginning his tirade.

“You know, it’s not very nice to be a tease,” He pondered aloud, not pointing a question at you, but rather posing the statement in general. “I don’t particularly like it.” The pressure of his thumb increased, giving you small motivation to play into his game. He noticed your sharp intake of breath at the movement, clearly pleased by the sound. “Well, unless I’m the one doing it.”

God, he was insufferable sometimes.

“What were you trying to do that night?” He asked, but spoke again before you could respond. “Calling me dressed like that, ignoring my texts, talking back?” He listed a few of the injustices that you had committed.

“I wanted you to come over.” You let out a gasp as the statement fell from your lips, feeling his fingers finally slip under the fabric. Instead of rewarding you for your answer, he let his thumb hover over the spot you so badly wanted him to touch. The minuscule contact was worse than an itch you couldn’t quite scratch.

“No, I don’t think that’s what you wanted.” He shook his head, watching your face. Every detail was driving you crazy, despite how minor some were. He raised an eyebrow, wanting you to try again.

“Attention.” You admitted, which was the whole truth. Your previous answer was not completely wrong, yet purposely omitted partial truth. “I wanted you to pay attention to me.” With that, he let his thumb trace slow circles into your clit. The small action sent a wave of pleasure through you, causing you to involuntarily arch your back in response.

“That’s it, baby.” He said, the words coming out in a slur. He wanted to keep his composure, but it was difficult watching you in such a state. Your reaction had an effect on him that was much greater than he would care to admit. “You wanted attention?” He asked, making sure that your answer was clear.

“Mhm,” you hummed, eyes fluttering closed in response to his voice. You were sure you could get off from the sound of it alone.

“Did you want it from me, or did you just want someone to take care of you? Didn’t matter who it was?” He asked, his tone shifting slightly. You could tell that his anger was slowly returning the more he spoke.

“I wanted it from you, Jake.” You said, looking to meet his eyes. You meant it, but you weren’t sure he believed it. “That’s why I called you.” Another gasp sounded from you as his thumb pressed into you even further.

“And you got it,” he confirmed “you got exactly what you wanted, didn’t you?” His eyes never left your face, searching for a hint of a lie, almost like he wanted you to try your luck.

“Y-yes,” you stuttered out, feeling him slowly slip a finger into you. It was just enough for you to lose your train of thought, only able to focus on his hands rather than your conversation.

“But you weren’t satisfied with that, were you?” He questioned, voice quiet but firm. His hands felt so good on you that you almost didn’t hear him, too caught up in the pleasure. A moan fell from your lips, but he wasn’t happy about your lack of an answer. He halted his movements, violently pulling you out of the cloud of euphoria. “That wasn’t enough. You wanted more, didn’t you, angel?”

“Yeah, I did.” Your response was immediate, willing to tell him anything he wanted to hear as long as he promised to keep touching you. “I wanted you to come over and fuck me.” He resumed his pace, adding another finger to you to show his appreciation for your honesty. You let out a choked moan, the feeling more intense now that he had stopped and started again.

“I know you did, sweetheart.” He said, a note of fake sympathy ringing from his tone. Had you not known him so well, you’d almost believe it to be true. “Were you a good girl after I hung up? Did you listen to me and touch yourself, take care of yourself because I couldn’t be there with you?” His words were blunt, powerful in their simplicity, and pushing you closer to an orgasm every time he opened his mouth. You didn’t even care that his tone was thick with disrespect, slowly degrading you more every time he spoke. You had no idea where his words were leading to, but you were certainly content with the ignorance in the meantime.

“N-no,” you admitted, but the answer barely come out. You were too distracted by the knot tightening in your belly, pleading with you to let go.

“Of course you didn’t,” he chuckled, but it was not because he found the situation funny. It was a knowing laugh; he’d known the answer to the question long before he asked it, but he wanted to hear you admit it. “You never listen.” He stated, but the snarky comment meant nothing to you. He could see it in your face, the impending climax that you were so desperate for. He was almost willing to give in, to let you have the moment of pleasure, but he wasn’t feeling up to generosities. “You were supposed to do as I said, be good and play with yourself until I could come over. It was simple, but you couldn’t even do that.” He spat.

“M’sorry, Jake.” You whined, but you were too far gone to say it with sincerity. The lack of understanding on your part infuriated him, that you had no idea what he was hinting at, no idea what you had done.

“No, you’re not.” He shook his head, despite you not looking at him. He continued his movements, driving you as close to the edge as he could get you. “You’re not sorry at all.”

“I am,” you pleaded, now fearful that he thought you were lying.

“What did you do instead?” He asked, ignoring your desperate apologies.

“I-I drank, waited for you to come o-over.” You figured the half truth was better than the alternative. You weren’t lying to him, just withholding the full story in hopes to spare his feelings and keep him from pulling away.

“I told you not to lie to me, sweetheart.” He said, the low tone resonating more with a growl. You failed to realize that you were in stalemate; he knew what you had done, and there was no lie or explanation that would lessen the blow of the truth.

“N-not lying, baby.” You breathed, just seconds away from an orgasm. It was getting harder to speak, harder to think. The conversation was of no interest to you, anymore. The only thing you wanted was for him to keep making you feel good, and you were willing to say anything to get it.

“Strike two.” He warned.

“Jake, please, I promise.” You begged. That was his breaking point, no longer able to prompt you to tell the truth. He was fed up, practically radiating with frustration, and long past willing to bargain with you.

“So that’s your story? You waited for me?” He hissed, but his hands remained steady. When you didn’t answer, he chose to do it for you. “I told you to get yourself off, not to call my brother to do it for you.” He spat. Your eyes snapped open, the shock of his words paired with the threat of climax was overwhelming, sending your body into a rigid state. You were frozen, finally understanding that his disappearance was not because of a bruised ego, or anger that you had been ignoring him. He knew Sam was at your house that night, and was painfully aware of what you had done with him. You really had hurt him, but not for the reasons you previously thought. You couldn’t respond, only feeling a strangled cry of pleasure leave your lips as the burning in your stomach seemed to reach its full capacity. Before you could descend into the orgasm, he ripped his hand away from you with a scowl permanently stuck on his lips. If you’d been in your right mind, complaining would not have been your first reaction, but you were delirious after going so long without him. Finally feeling his hands again was enough to drive you insane, and losing them before you could let go was the worst feeling in the world.

“What the fuck?” You hissed, sitting upright in an instant. Normally, the crazed look in his eye would have served as a warning. Today, it was just the same as throwing gasoline on a burning flame.

“That’s what you do when you don’t get your way?” He matched your intensity, both of you fuming with no sign of backing down. “I didn’t get a call, or even a text, so I thought I’d be nice. Thought I pushed you too far, so I dropped everything to come over and take care of you, just to see that you’d already found someone else to do it? It was that easy?” The condescending attitude was infuriating enough that you thought you could reach out and strangle him without a shred of guilt.

“So that’s why you came here? To argue? To show up after three days just to fight with me?” You spat, ready to grab your clothes and kick him out. “You don’t get to be mad at me for something you started!” He reached out, grabbing your face in his hand with little care, silencing you before you could speak again.

“No, I’m not here to argue.” He said, suddenly seeming calm and rational, though the fire in his eyes did not reflect his stature. “Get up, and shut your fucking mouth.” There was no more room for discussion, and you were not willing to contest him. You stood, obliging to the command almost immediately. He stood, too, eyes scanning the room until they inevitably landed on the recording booth, perfectly soundproof and ready to house the main event. He nodded his head towards it, signalling for you to go inside. You wanted to protest, to shake your head in retaliation, but you couldn’t. His authority in that moment was astounding, something that was not a force to be reckoned with. The power imbalance was clear; he was in charge this time, and was in no way willing to compromise.

You shuffled in the direction of his eyes, walking in the booth with him hot on your trail. The sound of the door shutting behind you settled in your bones with the weight of lead, sending dread through every nerve. You had no reason to be scared; you knew he would never hurt you, but you were certain he would not be gentle. You turned to look at him, finding no comfort in the expression that he adorned. “Turn around, hands against the wall.” Was all he said. You obeyed, quickly spinning and taking a step towards the wall. You assumed the position that he requested without a word. Despite the bubble of anxiety in your chest, you were still incredibly turned on and excited for what was in store for you, even if it was a punishment. You felt him approach you, his body radiating warmth despite being fully clothed. Another rush of arousal ran through you, excited by his proximity alone. That was the thing about Jake; he didn’t have to be touching you to be able to keep his spell on you. It was strong enough just simply knowing he existed.

“I’m not here to argue, or fight, or whatever you think.” He said, voice dangerously low. “If I wanted to do that, I would have gotten it over with long before now.” You knew he didn’t want you to answer, so you didn’t. You were in much too deep to risk pissing him off further. You felt his hand ghost over your lower back, the touch soft and inviting. It felt so good that your eyes even fluttered closed, the tension in your shoulders releasing slightly. “Do you remember what I said, earlier?” You chose not to respond in fear of saying the wrong thing. “How I’m going do the talking, and you’re going to listen?”

“Yes,” you whispered, still in love with the feeling of his hand on you. He was being far too sweet for you to believe it was true.

“Good,” he said, the word short and his tone firm. “You remember your colours?”

“Yes,” you repeated, almost robotically.

“Please don’t be scared to tell me, okay?” He said, dropping the gruffness only for a moment.

“Okay,” you whispered, looking back over your shoulder to catch his eye for a moment. You wished you hadn’t, because the softness beneath the rough exterior was almost enough to make you fall in love with him on the spot. He was tempted to smile, to throw his anger to the side and hold you. As upset as he was about the situation, it did not take away his care for you, and the three days he spent away from you were just as terrible for him as they were for you. He knew if he did that, he would be digging his own grave. Instead, he continued on like the sweet second had never happened at all.

“I came here because I wanted to give you the chance to tell me the truth.” He said, your eyes still locked with his. “Told you that I’d take care of you, you’d get what you want, as long as you didn’t lie to me.” His grip on your hip tightened, fingers staring into your skin and showcasing all of the emotion he was holding within him. “Made it easy, but you don’t know how to listen.” He sighed at the end of the sentence, like he almost pitied you for what you were going to endure. “No more chances, baby. We do this my way, now. Understand?”

“I do.” You squeaked.

“I didn’t think that I was asking a lot of you, sweetheart.” He said once your head turned away from him. “Just to be patient, to do what you were told, and you couldn’t even do that for me.” You felt him remove his hand from you. Soon after, you could hear the metal clanging of his belt being unbuckled. Your stomach sank, knowing what would come next, but you couldn’t help but feel the buzz of excitement again. Jake was so phenomenal that even the thought of being reprimanded by him was exhilarating. “You didn’t care who was giving you the attention, angel. You just wanted someone to take care of that ache between your legs. You knew I’d do it right, and that’s why you called me, hmm?”

“Yes, sir.” You felt the cool leather against your backside, threatening to strike at the first wrong word or action. You took a long breath, waiting for his next move.

“Did you think he could take care of you like I do?” The possessive nature of his statement took you as a shock; there had never been a time where you had discussed boundaries, titles, or anything official. It was messy, hookups with no real promise of more but so many buried feelings that it made it near painful for everyone. From all you knew, the competition between the brothers was fierce, but expected. Jealousy was not something you had thought would surface. You pushed the thought away, understanding that Jake had not said anything extremely offhand. You chalked the comment up to his competitive nature, and left it at that. At the same time, you fought to ignore the feeling of delight that came with the thought of being his.

At your silence, the belt raised and came down on your bare ass. It was not nearly as hard as he could have hit you, but it was enough to send a shock through you. The lasting sting was a reminder to answer him in a timely fashion. “No comment?” He taunted. You could hear the smirk in his tone, almost pushing you to test your limits, but you decided it was best not to. “Did you think he could make you feel as good as I do?”

“No, sir.” Now was not the time to tell him you did not call Sam and invite him over, or that when you answered the door, you expected it to be him. He didn’t want to hear that; his feelings were hurt, and he wanted you to fuel his ego.

“Doesn’t seem like he did a very good job, angel. Not a single mark on you.” He noted. You could feel his eyes scanning you, inspecting for any signs of the betrayal littering your skin. The leather of the belt was gently tickling your backside, threatening you with punishment if you did not adhere to the rules. “Did he make you feel good, baby?” His question seemed like one of self-punishment. He would know if you were lying, but the truth was undesirable.

“Y-yes,” you muttered, feeling guilty for even saying that to his face.

“As good as I do?” He asked, his tone more pressing than before. You had no idea how to answer him, because you didn’t know. It was different, and you were unable to compare it to each other because they were both fantastic for different reasons. So, you opted to test your luck and give him the answer he wanted to hear from you.

“No, baby.” You said, trying to sound as confident as possible.

“No?” He asked, questioning your response. You were frustrated with him, unsure of the answer he wanted to hear. He seemed to pick up on every lie without difficulty, leaving you stuck with truth, even if you thought it would do more harm than good.

“I-i don’t know, Jake.” You said, honesty finally showing.

“Then tell me what you do know.” His condescending attitude was insufferable, making you realize that this game was not for any other reason than to shame you for your actions. He wasn’t catering to his own ego, or mending his own wounds. He wanted you to feel embarrassed, regretful for the stunt you pulled and the scene he witnessed. He wanted you to feel the same embarrassment he felt when he showed up only to find that Sam had beat him to it. “What happened that night, angel?”

“I was waiting for you, Jake.” You told him, more truthful than anything else you could have said. “I heard a knock on the door and I thought it was you. I was excited, thought maybe I won the argument for once. When I opened the door, it wasn’t you. I didn’t call Sam, I didn’t invite him over to spite you. He showed up.” You explained, desperate for him to know that you would never do that to him. “I didn’t even know it was him until the door was open.” Jakes movements stuttered, the belt he was taunting you with coming to a halt for a moment. He had misjudged you, and although knowing that you invited Sam inside was painful, his reaction was based off the conclusion that you called Sam when he refused to give in to you. He was mistaken, but in typical Jake fashion, he couldn’t seem to fess up to his wrongdoing. He was in too deep to backtrack, and his contempt for the situation was still too large to ignore.

“But you invited him in, didn’t you?” His voice was softer; you could tell the explanation satiated at least some of the ache he had been feeling.

“I did.” You admitted. If his goal was to make you feel shame, it was working. Perhaps at the time, your guilt was not large enough to derail your desire for sex, but now it made you never want to look at Sam again.

“And you didn’t think that was a bad idea?” He pressed. You could feel him gravitating closer to you, his hips almost pushing into you now. He was dragging this out even longer than he liked, but he continued on, nonetheless. “Didn’t care about anyone’s feelings other than your own?” He snapped, finally outwardly admitting that it had hurt him, even if it was unintentional.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, but it wasn’t enough.

“You’re not sorry, angel. I know you would do it again if I left you here like this.”

“I’m trying to apologize, Jake!” You said, frustrated with his lack of respect for your words. “I know I fucked up, but you didn’t have to disappear like that!” Your attitude was quickly changed when the smack of the belt was felt on your skin again, harder than the last time. Your jaw clenched, teeth grinding together to distract you from the sting.

“Apologize for what?” He hissed. “You keep saying sorry, but you don’t even know what you’re sorry for.” A tear welled up in your eye, still processing the bluntness of the belt. You were frustrated, tired of the back and fourth, and most of all, desperate for him to get off his high horse and fuck you. You were both hurting with no proper way of communicating it. The whole foundation of your relationship was sex; neither of you had a clue how to approach the complex feelings that were beginning to surface. Both of you fell in step with the devil, driven by the premise of each other’s bodies and ignored any thought of emotion. It had only been a week, and the sexual gratification had already grown old, overpowered by the need for something deeper. “Sorry that you were a little whore? That you couldn’t keep your legs closed and wait for me? Or are you just sorry that you didn’t get away with it?” The belt dropped to the floor with a pathetic plop, easily forgotten about in the heat of the moment. You would have turned around on your own accord, faced him with just as much fire had it not been for him doing it for you.

Once you were facing him, fully immersed in his features, you could see that underneath all of his anger, that pain was desperate to be released, begging to be discussed. “It doesn’t matter, angel. I don’t care if you’re sorry.” He looked over your face, noticing the same fire in your eyes. The same pain was there, too. You were both fools to believe that it would magically disappear once you both had an orgasm. He stepped forward, ultimately pushing you back into the wall. You looked up at him, furious but still just as turned on. Sex would not fix the problem, but it certainly would take your mind off of it. “I’m going to fuck that attitude out of you, show you why you should have waited.”

“Do it, then.” You snapped, unable to bite your tongue anymore. “I’m sick of talking. Keep saying you’re going to, but haven’t made a move yet.” His eyes lingered over your face, distaste for your words clearly evident, but he didn’t respond. Instead he freed himself from his pants, in too much of a rush to shut you up to bother fully taking them off. He used his hand to make sure you were firmly against the wall, forgoing caution completely. His hand settled on your thigh, roughly pulling your leg up and around him. He kept his hand there, holding you to him as he bent down slightly, angling himself so he could access you easier.

Once he was lined up, he pushed inside of you without any delay. You let out a sigh of relief, but his face was stony, like he barely noticed the difference. He wasn’t fucking you for pleasure, and he was making that clear. His free hand travelled up to your neck, fingers lightly resting over your throat. “You don’t get to speak to me like that, sweetheart.” He said, hips slowly begging to rock into you. “You don’t get to speak at all, anymore. No more teasing, no more back talk, nothing.” He growled, his fingers tightening further with every word. “If you want to be a whore, you get treated like one. I have no problem with that.” As he finished, you could feel the lack of blood flow begin to wane, your heartbeat strong against the vein he was compressing. The feeling of him inside you was amplified by a million, the airy feeling in your head making it unable to think of anything other than Jake. The only thing you could focus on was the look in his eye, the feral craze of anger peeking through more by the second.

When you thought you couldn’t take any more, the brink of unconsciousness beginning to creep in from the corners of your eyes, his fingers loosened. He awake angry, sure, but never willing to cause you harm. He cared about you far too much to risk hurting you. You drew in a long gasp, feeling the prickle of stars in your vision as you tried to come back to earth. You barely had a moment to recuperate before he began his next series of degradation. “This is what you wanted so badly?” He said, his face growing closer to yours. He rested his forehead on your own, feeling the pressure begin to rise. His irascible front was breaking, slowly melting away the closer he got to you. The gravitational pull you so often felt from him was strong, and he was feeling the same one from you. “You wanted it so bad that you settled for less?” He paused his movements, reaching down for your other leg. With great trust, you allowed him to pick you up and wrap your other leg around him. Your arms snaked around his neck, pulling him in closer.

He was engulfing you like a cloud of smoke, every angle completely obscured by the weight of his existence. Every time you attempted to break free, he was there. He existed in every part of you, every molecule of your body coated with his name and cracking under the pressure of his touch. Jake was everywhere, in everything and never seeming to truly leave. Every corner you turned, every door opened and even when you closed your eyes, he existed somewhere within the darkness. It was unbearable, feeling like every limb was anchored down by the knowledge of what it felt like to be loved by him, but you believed that if you were free, you would float away into nothing. Every small wish that Jake would break the ties with you, that the situation would come to a civil end, the passing thought of how easy it would have been if he never approached at all seemed null. You knew that even if he walked out, somehow withered away into nothing and left you alone with doubt he ever existed, you would never recover from the loss of something so spectacular. You wondered if you never knew the extent of his touch, how groundbreaking it was, if you would have ever realized what you were missing out on. You thought you would have, eventually, because a feeling so exhilarating is something you yearn for infinitely, and the one he gave you was all that, and more.

“I want to hear you say it, angel.” He snarled, his fingers pressing in to you with the same feeling as a blade. It was phenomenal. He was phenomenal, and you never wanted to go so long without him again. He was pulling you down on him with every thrust of his hips. The position seemed so limiting for many, but complemented him so greatly. Everything he did was fantastic, intricate work with lasting impact. You were certain there was nothing Jake could do that would be less than amazing. You were thankful for his idea to move to the recording booth, because the moans that were escaping you were nothing short of pornographic, something you typically would only hear from an actor desperate to pay rent. But you weren’t acting, and it wasn’t a show of apology, or anything of the sorts. You never sugarcoated anything for him; everything shared between you was raw and anything but fake. “Tell me how good it feels.”

“So good, Jake.” You cried, hands gripping for something to hold, to ground you and bring you back to sanity. There was nothing that would give you the relief, and that’s exactly what he wanted. He wanted you to crazy for him, delirious on the idea of him alone and disturbed at the thought of being without him. If he could have his way, you would never even have the chance to think of anyone other than him. “You make me feel so good, baby.”

“Do you think anybody else can do a better job?” He asked, only using your praise as motivation to work harder.

“N-no, Jake.” You shook your head, motion limited due to his head resting on your own. You weren’t lying; in the race of feelings, Sam had a head start. There was no doubt in the minds of any of you about that. In turn, Jake had mastered the art of sex. So much so that he had you at his feet without even touching you, without you even realizing it. You would chase after him for the rest of your life for even a shred of what he was giving you then. Sex with Sam was dripping with love, soft and sweet, echoing with words everybody longs to hear. It was good, great, even. You had no regrets about the night you shared with him, but Jake was otherworldly. It was his charm, his wicked wildcard he pulled when he knew he had to compete for you. If he couldn’t make you fall in love with him within a day, he knew he could stalemate you in lust.

His head buried in the crook of your neck, assaulting the skin with the fervour of a madman, locating all of the sensitive spots like an animal searching for prey. You couldn’t stop yourself from crying out, his name echoing off the walls in an obscene decoration, permanent memories of his generosity etched into the air and settling into the wood. No matter how you tried to excise his presence, you couldn’t stop him from taking over. It didn’t matter where you were or how brief the encounter; from the moment he arrived, Jake owned the place, and it would always be like so. You could feel the pressure building, his body melting into your own in with strange comfort. He was slowly purging any life from you, leeching any energy and keeping it for his own, but it was too late to stop it. Even if you had the opportunity, you weren’t sure you would. To descend into nothing at the hands of Jake was the most compelling thing you could ever imagine, because you would have the opportunity to be with him until the end.

He could feel you tense, your walls clenching around him in a plea for an orgasm. You were desperate, the separation from him had taken more from you than you cared to admit. Even the thought of an orgasm from Jake was blissful all in itself, and you couldn’t hold on any longer. When the steady stream of moans tapered off into choked cries, he knew you were feeling too good to even think of making a sound. He knew how badly you wanted it and he cared for you enough to give you anything, but he was too angry to allow you the satisfaction, to let you believe you were off the hook. When you gripped at the hair on the base of his neck, holding him in preparation for the climax, he stopped completely. For a moment, you failed to realize what had happened. You were too deep into the pleasure to understand that his hips had stopped, and his body was pulling away from you. Once you did, it washed over you in a wave of agony.

Not once did you believe that you would be so desperate for another person to beg. Not in some minor, sexual gratification way, but in a violent, anguished manner. One where you believed if he didn’t give in, you would never survive. For Jake, for the way only he could make you feel, you would, and quite shamelessly at that. You would go to the ends of the earth to find the relief of the orgasm he was so happy to deny you. You were so distraught at the loss of the feeling that you couldn’t even conjure the proper words to express your distaste. Instead, a whine sounded from deep in your chest, one that wasn’t afraid of showing transparency. When he looked to you, you felt like he could see into your soul, pinpoint the very things that made you, you. You were so desperate for him that you had no shame in showing him exactly how you felt about him, and even if it was a wordless show of adoration, he knew.

His issue did not lie within the lack of knowledge about your feelings for him. He was well aware of that by now. Almost as painfully aware as he was about his own feelings for you. All of the emotions running through you, the forces you felt when you were around him, the suffocating weight of the connection was not one sided. He was suffering from the same debilitating realizations as you were. His issue was not with your heart nor your intentions, and much less about his anger, now. In fact, the motivator for his actions no longer coincided with the reasons he showed up at your door. Now, he was driven by his pure enjoyment of seeing you in such a state.

Perhaps the truth of the sadism accusations the two of you grew so fond of had finally found its proper place. It was hanging over his head in a blinding fashion, a horrific branding, almost as if it was always meant to be there. He was no longer proving a point; that was made long before he even shed an article of clothing. Instead, it was replaced by an undying desire to leave you in such a state where the only coherent thought you could form was his name.

“What’s wrong, angel?” He dared ask the question despite knowing exactly why you were upset. “Why are you upset?” His fake sympathy was nothing short of infuriating. You were well aware of your place, now, knowing that if you refused to play into him, you would never get what you wanted.

“Please, Jake. I need you.” You pleaded, hoping for a shred of compassion. “Need you so bad, baby. I can’t take it anymore.” He slowly let you down to your feet, making sure you were steady before taking a step back from you. The scene was pathetic; you were naked, begging for his attention while he stood carelessly, almost completely clothed. Had anyone else attempted to do the same, it would be laughable. Somehow, Jake made the situation seem completely normal, like it was an everyday occurrence that he had a girl begging for him so desperately while he was so careless. And because it was for him, you didn’t seem to see an issue with it, either.

He grabbed your hand, giving you a gentle pull away from the wall. Even though the action was emotionless on his part, you couldn’t help but hope. “You’re only okay with being a whore if you’re getting something from it?” He let out a disapproving tsk, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I don’t know what to do with you, sweetheart.” He said, almost as if he was defeated. “Can’t ever seem to please you, can I? You always want more.”

“Jake, please.” Your attempt was fruitless. He didn’t care what you had to say, and it was blatantly obvious.

“Today’s about teaching you how to care about somebody other than yourself, angel. Gotta learn how to give if you’re ever going to get.” Your eyes fluttered closed, not wanting to show your frustration with him, but finding it impossible not to. “On your knees.” He ordered. Before you even had time to process his words, he snapped again. “Now.” You did as you were told, sinking to the floor in a hurry. Once you were ready for his next advance, you looked up at his face. He was watching you, expression still cold, but a hint of warmth flickered in his eye. It was the most comforting thing you had seen from him all day, and you wished you could hold on to it forever.

Despite your anger, you couldn’t overlook the sight before you. You wanted an orgasm, but pleasuring him was the next best thing. Sometimes, it was even better. One of his hands brushed over your cheek, a brief moment of love before he grabbed your hair in his fist. He was anything but gentle, but you didn’t mind. If allowing him to air his feelings out would mean things could return back to normal, you were happy to oblige. Your mouth was watering at the sight of him, uncaring about anything other than him being inside you again, no matter which way. You were addicted to him, always needing more but never fully satisfied. He was right in saying so, because you knew you could never get enough of him.

“You’re going to be good for me, and then maybe I’ll consider giving you what you want. And don’t you dare try to get yourself off, either.” He was clear about his rules, and you weren’t willing to contest. “I can’t be the only one putting in the effort, baby.” As he spoke, his grip on your hair only tightened. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” You said, barely hearing his words. You were stuck in awe of his beauty, how effortless it was all of the time.

“That’s my girl,” he smiled, but it was a twisted one. He wasn’t pleased at your obedience, but more at the thought of using you as he pleased. “Open.” His command shot through you, immediately springing you into action. As soon as your lips parted, he guided your head towards his cock. He didn’t care for caution, but but remained hyper-aware of your every move, ready to stop the second you showed slight discomfort. He thrusted his hips forward, stripping you of any control. There was no grace period, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat with little warning. You couldn’t help but feel a gag arise, the feeling foreign but not unwelcome.

The feeling of your throat constricting around him was almost too much for him, a groan sounding from his chest. He was driven by pleasure, the feeling of your mouth was something he could never forget. He started at a steady pace, holding your head while his hips did the work. You were barely starting and already struggling to keep up with him, but you were aching to please him. The feeling of him in your mouth and down your throat was overwhelming, but it was fantastic all the same. As tears welled in your eyes, you were worried you wouldn’t be able to give him what you wanted, but the feeling of making him feel good was too wonderful to deny. Giving Jake the same thing he gave you was more than you could ever ask for and all you ever wanted to do.

“That’s it, angel.” His praise was followed by another breathy moan. The sounds he made were certainly better than any other sound in the world. Far superior to any promise of eternal happiness. You wished you could spend every lifetime hearing him speak his songs of pleasure. You couldn’t help but let out a moan yourself, although muffled, just to show him you were happy to serve him. He began moving your head down on him as he thrusted, crazed by the feeling and wanting even more. You tried to steady your breathing, the lack of air giving you a slight sense of panic. You closed your eyes, focused only on him and the sounds he was making. “Look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.” The vulgarity was anything but beautiful, but he had a way of making everything sound gorgeous.

The tears spilled down your cheeks, a mess of mascara littering your skin. You weren’t certain you could keep up with him much longer, but luckily for you, he was getting close to slowing down. He kept his pace for a few moments longer, but the sensation was too much and he willed himself to stop. When he pulled away, you were shocked at the suddenness of his action. A prickle of fear ran through you, worried that you hadn’t done a good enough job. In truth, it was too good. “I should just cum in your mouth and leave you here.” He theorized, his chest heaving a heavy breath as he spoke. “Like you so much better when you can’t fucking talk back.” You blinked away the last few tears that had formed, regaining your composure and catching your breath. You knew it was an act, but you couldn’t help but feel the sting of his words settle all over.

He looked down at you, noticing the state you were in. His eyes softened, always worried about taking it too far. He reached down, thumb swiping away any tears still lingering on your cheeks. Your eyes fluttered closed at the contact, appreciating any bit of affection he was willing to give. “I wouldn’t do that to you, sweetheart. You know that.” You nodded, opting to keep your eyes closed for just a moment longer. “Stand up for me, baby.” He coaxed, tone more gentle than it was before. You did as he asked, slowly rising to your feet. Once you were steady, he guided you back towards the wall. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, taking a good look at his face, now. Somehow even amidst the chaos, he radiated comfort. You were certain he could make the worst of feelings dissolve into nothing. “I’m okay.” He let out a sigh of relief, happy that you were still alright. As much as he enjoyed pushing you, your comfortability with it was his main priority.

“You did so good, angel. Exactly what I wanted.” He said, fingers returning to your cheek for a loving caress. “Not so hard to do what you’re told, is it?”

“No,” you replied, still unwilling to contest his dominance. He leaned in, placing a kiss to your lips. It was sweet, only lasting for a moment before he straightened up once more. Without another word, he sunk to his knees below you. You watched in admiration, wondering if he was really going to be so kind. When he guided your leg over his shoulder, relief flooded through you. You rested your back against the wall, eager for him to advance. His lips trailed over the skin of your thigh, almost too gentle for the occasion. You let your fingers settle in his hair, softly holding him for encouragement.

He seemed to draw out the buildup painfully long, making sure you were quivering with anticipation before he even thought to touch you. Slowly but surely, he connected his mouth with your cunt, his tongue exploring every part of you, savouring the taste of his own hard work. He barely had to do a thing to turn you into a mess again, moans slipping past your lips with every slight moment. You were close to an orgasm just at the thought of his tongue, and feeling him in such a way after so much teasing was phenomenal. His tongue settled on your clit, barely stimulating you at all. Even so, you were more than happy that he allowed you anything at all.

“Fuck, Jake.” You groaned, fingers tightening in his hair. He hummed against you, letting you know how much he loved hearing you say his name like that. “Feels so fucking good.” The words were shaky, filled with every emotion you had been feeling since he arrived. Even if you were desperate for a climax, you were still just as content to enjoy him in the moment. He picked up his pace, the intensity of his actions sending a wave of pleasure through every nerve in your body. You couldn’t help but grind your hips against his mouth, begging for more. His fingers had a firm grasp on you, sure to decorate your thigh with marks to remember him by.

You were already close, the edging from before had ensured you were extremely sensitive. Every stroke of his tongue was like a push closer to the edge. He could tell just by the sound of you, the tremble in your legs, the grasp you had on his hair. It was fuelling his ego, as if it needed to be inflated any further. The muscles in your leg tensed, pulling him in further without even realizing it. Your heartbeat was violent against your ribs, the knot in your belly barely hanging on. Your chest heaved with each breath as you tried to keep up with your need for air. The pleasure was so intense that it was almost hard to breathe. With one particularly whiny moan, he realized he had you right where he wanted you to be. He worked faster, more precise with his movement as he inched you closer to an orgasm. A slur of curses fell from your lips, your forehead glistening with sweat as you prepared for the inevitable peak of pleasure. You couldn’t keep yourself quiet, loudly but wordlessly pleading for him to keep going. Just as you felt your abdomen tense, you were torn out of the clouds and harshly brought back to earth.

He had stopped, pulled away completely and was looking up at you with a smug smile. Between the searing feeling of losing the orgasm and the anger for his attitude, you let out a primal wail through closed teeth, lessening the impact of the sound. You were frustrated, ready to give up and leave to spare yourself from any more disappointment. You couldn’t even bear the thought of looking at him, scared it would shatter the small bit of dignity you had left. Before you had a chance to speak, the crushing feeling was replaced with one of pleasure. He had returned to you, continuing his tirade as if there was never a disturbance in the first place. The suddenness of his actions was giving you whiplash, a false sense of hope for a climax began to bloom once more. A cry of relief sounded as his tongue returned to its previous place, sounding only louder as he brought his hand to you as well. As his mouth made quick work at getting you back to your prior state, he slipped his fingers inside you, pumping them at a steady pace with a slight curl as he entered.

You were in too much bliss to speak, only focused on the heavenly feeling of him touching you. You hated that he made it so easy to forget any ill feelings, so easy to fall into his trap. He was magnificent, every move perfectly calculated with intent to kill. He wanted you to be so immersed in him that you couldn’t stand the thought of another person doing the same things he did to you. He wanted to be the only thing in your mind forever, and it was working. It was impossible to want anything other than Jake, especially when he was right in front of you. You felt guilty, but not on Sam’s behalf. Usually by now you would be mortified by your own actions, haunted by your choices and your inability to learn from your mistakes. This time, the only guilt you had was for letting three days pass without being touched by Jake. It was so good that not even your constant moral dilemma could interfere, this time. Perhaps there was a smidge of guilt for not even thinking of the other boy, but every time it arose, it was abolished in an instant.

It seemed like the longer your entanglement dragged on, the more blurry the line between right and wrong appeared. The dance continued, and your morals cracked under the weight of your step.

He was no stranger to your body, the small time he spent getting to know it was more than what he needed to memorize your likes and dislikes. Getting you to an orgasm was easier than writing his own name; he only needed to do it once to master the process. You could barely keep your thoughts straight, the feeling so intense that it clouded your mind and numbed anything else. You couldn’t even find the energy to worry if he was going to pull away or not. The only thing you cared about was the utmost effort that he was pouring into you. “J-jake, please don’t stop.” You gasped. Your eyes were squeezed shut, every nerve in your body was on fire, you felt like if he let go of you, you would collapse without the support. “God, please, baby. I need it so bad.” For a brief second, you believed your begging was finally working. He seemed intent, no sign of pulling away. His grip was tight on your thigh and he couldn’t help but let his own noises of pleasure escape him every now and again. He seemed more invested in you than you were in him, and that was almost impossible. If he didn’t think there was a need to punish you, he would have spent all night between your legs without a complaint.

A particularly needy cry left your mouth, one soaked in desperation. He knew how badly you wanted it, and he was almost ready to give in. As your leg trembled over his shoulder, the last warning sign before your desired outcome, he came back to reality pulled away again. This time, the guttural sound that tore from your mouth was almost painful to listen to. Tears of frustration prickled at your eyes, and you had to clench your teeth to stop yourself from another protest. He watched you, revelling in the state you were in. It was so enchanting that he couldn’t even look away. To know that he could bring you to such a state was a wonderful feeling, and he wasn’t sure if he could ever let it go. You couldn’t even will yourself to look at him again, but for a much different reason this time. You were afraid that if you did, the tears you wanted to keep hidden would make even more of an appearance. You were exhausted, at your limit, and unsure if you could continue on with his game. You were beginning to believe he wouldn’t let you cum at all, and that thought was deeply unsettling. Although, you were beginning to understand that you had ultimately done the same thing to him, but in a much more hurtful manner.

He rose from his knees, slowly reaching for your face. He wiped away the tears that had fallen, only half-sympathetic to your anguish. “Turn around for me, baby.” He ordered, but the words were soft. You did as you were told, no argument to give. When you were facing the wall, he took hold of your hips. He pulled you back towards him, then pushed your upper half back towards the wall. “Have you had enough?” You could feel him lining himself up with you as he asked. You couldn’t help but push yourself back on him, unable to control yourself. You needed him in the same way a starving man needed nourishment. You needed him in the same way the sun needed the moon, or how the earth needed water. It was primal, something greater than survival, and you needed it right then and there. He couldn’t even utter a word of complaint, the sensation catching him off guard and sending him in the same down-spiral you were stuck in. You were no longer two individuals who were angry, hurting with no way of expressing it. You were one with each other, finally seeming to see the same things and meet on common ground.

“Do you know how badly I wanted this?” He asked, using the strength in his arms to pull you back on him. “How terrible it was to know that somebody else had you like this?” Another harsh thrust sent your head spinning and the moans tumbling from your lips. “To know somebody else’s name was on your lips?” You were delirious from the moment he began to fuck you, drunk off his presence and willing to do anything to keep him like this. “To know that he couldn’t do it right? That he couldn’t give you what I can?”

A cry of pleasure ran through you as he slammed into you again. He moved one hand to your shoulder, holding you steady as he continued his relentless movements. You were on cloud nine, barely breathing and unable to care about anything he was saying.

“Tell me how good it feels, angel. Tell me how much you love it when I fuck you.” He growled, uncaring about the roughness of his grasp on you and completely unaware of the reality of his words. He was begging you, although it didn’t seem like it. He was desperate to hear how much you wanted him, how he was the only one who could do it right. It was a possessive claim, jealousy seeping through every available crack in his persona. He was in the race until the end, willing to fight for you no matter the outcome, but it did not mean he was immune to the pain of knowing there was another person in the race. The stab of knowing someone else got to touch you, to love you like he so badly wanted to. He may have done it to himself, but it did not mean he was blind to any turmoil he had created.

“Feels so good, Jake.” You groaned, the words surrounding him like a blanket of comfort. “You made me feel so good. I missed you so much.” The final part of your statement was like a punch to the stomach. It hit him so brutally that he thought he might keel over from the force. His hand snaked up to your hair, collecting it in his fist and holding it tightly. He guided your head to the side, just enough for him to lean down and kiss you. The act was beautiful, so peaceful amongst the obscene display. You knew you could spend all day kissing him and never need anything else. When he parted from your lips, he remained close to your face, not quite ready to break from the bubble of comfort that surrounded him.

“Have you learned your lesson, yet?” He asked, distancing himself from you just slightly. “Do you know why you should have waited?”

“G-god, yes.” You nodded against the force of his hand holding your head in place. He never broke his momentum, hips still slamming into you relentlessly. It was painfully good, each thrust hitting you with more power every time. You didn’t know if you could hold back your orgasm, this time, especially if he wasn’t willing to stop.

“You know I’m the only one who can make you feel this good, angel. Nobody else can fuck you like this.” Instead of a response, another whine fell from your lips. The pressure in your belly was excruciatingly strong, he could feel it without you even saying anything at all.

“N-nobody else, baby.” You had no guilt in the statement, either, finally crossing the final line between right and wrong. Now, no need seemed more important than the one that was pressing for you to please him. No more guilt for the back and fourth, just enjoyment for the attention you received amidst their fighting. Every moral was blurred, diminishing and lines crossing, melting into each other. You were not a pawn for them to play with, a little piece to their game in which they flaunted for advantage. You were playing, now. Your own strategies and tactics surfacing to throw them off, to make them think before walking blindly. The power was in fact yours, and you were finally able to understand that. The power to hurt, to love, and to end it all in an instant. The sorrow truth was that you weren’t ready for it to be over; you were the only one who could stop it, but you didn’t have the strength to do it. You didn’t know how to do it. The blissful joy of the love they both gave to you was so beautiful that you had no idea how to refuse it.

“You want to cum, angel?” He asked, meaning his words this time. Your mistrust of him was still there, but your hope was that you were wrong in doubting his intentions. He had pushed you far beyond your limits, and you were hoping he could see that, too.

“Y-yes please, sir.” You stuttered, the knot painfully tightening once again. You couldn’t hold back, the need to climax stronger than anything you had ever experienced before. You were tense, vibrating at the thought of him being generous enough to allow it. You knew you were completely at his disposal, but you didn’t seem to care. There was no fight in you, just complete submission to him. The only thing you could do was pray that he had fulfilled his need for punishment, that he believed you were worthy of forgiveness. “Please, Jake. I need it so bad. Please,” you gasped, feeling him reach around your hips. Within an instant, his fingers found your clit and wasted no time tracing small circles into the sensitive area.

The noise that came out of you was inhuman, all of your desperation making a show in the single sound. You could tell it affected his mood; he was practically radiating emotion for you. “You were so good for me, angel." He confessed. You could hear his own internal battle against his own orgasm just through his words. “Come on, baby. Cum for me.” The words were the best thing you could ever hear. Some part of you believed he would never give in, but the permissive statement was too glorious to ignore. Within seconds, you had descended into a mess of words, none really with any significance, but you had no other way to express how good you felt. The slur of curses were decorated with his name, cemented in a few guttural moans to commemorate his excellent performance. You could barely keep yourself standing, your legs were weak, wobbly underneath the weight of you. If not for him holding you up, you were certain the ground below you would be your new home. “That’s it,” he strangled out, affected greatly by your state. “That’s my girl.” The words were like a catalyst for a second orgasm. You weren’t sure if you were stuck in perpetual motion, in limbo with one long, drawn out climax, or if he had sent you into a second before you even had the chance to recover. No matter which it was, you were certain you had never felt like that before in your entire lifetime. If he wasn’t addictive before, you knew you could never escape him, now.

“Did that feel good?” He asked, never slowing his pace. “You feel better now, beautiful?” You managed out a whine that had semblance to an agreement. He wasn’t far behind you, for the first time that evening his movements stuttered, sloppy after a long stretch of tormenting you. As much as you wanted him to feel the same way you had, you didn’t want it to end. You were so crazy for him that you couldn’t stand the thought of stopping.

“So much better.” You assured him, but you had no time to think about your relief. His effect on you was stronger than ever, perhaps because of your withdrawal from him, or just because he was so intoxicating. It only took a moment for another climax to begin creeping up on you. The feeling was intense, almost like it was driving you insane. Partially due to overstimulation, but mostly because of his relentless focus on you. His hand was still working in time with his hips, and he knew exactly what he was doing. The sensation was overwhelming, yes, but he was more so, without a doubt.

“Can you do it again, angel?” He said, a hint of the devil in his eyes. Although you couldn’t see it, you knew him well enough to know it was there.

“I don’t know,” you warned. The feeling was good, no doubt, but it was intense. It felt like it was taking over every nerve, shouting over every thought.

“You can. I know you can.” He encouraged. You knew his encouragement was due to his own inability to hold back any longer. He wanted you to cum with him, and it was not a desire he was willing to debate. Thankfully, as much as you lacked confidence in yourself, you knew with his guidance it would not be difficult to fulfil his wish. You could feel it in your bones, the strength of the orgasm that he was coaxing from you. “Come on, angel.” He pleaded. “Be a good girl for me, I know you can.” He repeated himself, and the consistency was all you needed. If possible, the climax that washed over you was more intense than the one before. Your brain felt as if it was short circuiting, filled only with thoughts about the boy behind your source of pleasure. He was invading every part of your brain, taking over with little effort and making home forever. You held the wall for support, trying to keep yourself steady, but in truth, his hands were the only thing holding you up. Once you surrendered to the pleasure, it didn’t take long for him to follow suit and spill his release into you. The orgasm was extremely overwhelming for both of you, leaving you in a mess of tangled limbs and sweaty bodies. The air was filled with moans and swears, both of you echoing each others names like it was a hymn of love for each other. When you both came down, he was reluctant to move. He wanted to live in that moment forever. He leaned forward, pressing a few delicate kisses into your shoulder. Your eyes fluttered closed at the feeling, wishing you could exist with the softest version of Jake for the rest of your life.

“I’m sorry.” You spoke first, breaking through the silence. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I never want to hurt you.”

“I’m sorry, too.” He admitted to his own wrongdoing with no hesitation. “It wasn’t my place to be upset.”

“No,” You shook your head. “You’re allowed to be upset.” His hand drifted over your bare back, the touch electrifying you in a whole new way. He didn’t want to keep talking about the subject. In his mind, he was over it.

“I like you, Gold Dust Woman.” He said, gently pulling you away from the wall. “A lot.” He carefully maneuvered you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you and his hands settling on your stomach. You felt all of the tension melt away as his chin rested on your shoulder.

“I like you, Jake.” You admitted. You could feel his smile as he placed a kiss to your cheek.

“I was hoping you did.” He hummed, showing no sign of letting go. “I think those were the most beautiful sounds this booth has ever heard.” He noted. “I know they’re the most beautiful ones I’ve ever heard.” You felt a blush dust across your cheek, a small giggle sounding from you. “Maybe next time I should hit that record button, take something home with me.”

“You can take me home, Jacob. Isn’t that better?”

“Better for sure, but I can’t always take you home, angel.” His words were light, but the meaning was heavy. Although the air was clear, the situation was certainly not resolved. Unfortunately for him, it would take a final decision before that wound was healed. “Get dressed, I’m taking you to dinner.” That was his final order, his original doting persona beginning to surface and was bound to stay for the rest of the night.

“Looking like this?” the idea was incredulous to you, but he had no worry in the world about it.

“You’ll still be the prettiest one there.” He placed another kiss to your cheek before carefully removing himself from you. You thought that was impossible, because he would be there. “Now come on, I’ve got lost time to make up for.” He reminded, but you hadn’t forgotten. His disappearance was still haunting you, the hole in your chest not fully closed because you were scared he would leave again. When you turned and looked at him, you realized that was the last thing he wanted to do.

You both left the studio with a bit more pep in your step than before, but it was not quite enough to stop the looming threat of the biggest struggle yet. You both had made up for your mistakes, apologized for the lack of communication and bruised feelings, but it was nothing short of a surface conflict, and the apologies were tiny compared to the lasting wound it left in its wake. You hadn’t really discussed it at all, just expressed your distaste and brushed over the biggest aggressor. Still, that was minuscule in comparison to the bigger picture. Your momentary hurt was only a stepping stone to guide you to the window of truth. The real issue lied within something much deeper; you and Jake had surpassed the threshold of simplicity. You both held the power to hurt each other, now, and the imminent threat of that was much larger than anything else you had ever experienced before.

Did she make you cry?

Make you break down?

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