#should still get done with thumbnails this weekend though | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theseshipsshallsail · 4 years ago

Link

There’s a new club in the Village - Infinity emblazoned in bright, neon letters - and naturally, the building is jam-packed with society’s outcasts on its opening weekend. Oliver grimaces, pressing his third beer to the side of his face, yet the condensation does nothing to soothe his overheated skin. It’s like a furnace of writhing bodies, and with every bead of sweat that bisects his neck to soak into his collar, he can’t help but wonder why he ever agreed to come in the first place.

“Drink up,” Vanessa says, brandishing a bright amber concoction as she slides into the booth opposite him. “You look like you need something a little stronger.”

Oliver raises an eyebrow as he returns the bottle to the table, then plucks the wedge of orange peel from the rim of the proffered glass. It’s been three years since he tasted a negroni, and the potent combination of gin, Campari, and vermouth sends his mind reeling in directions he usually fights tooth and nail to avoid.

“Remind me again why you brought me here?” he asks, trying not to wince at the bitter aftertaste. “This isn’t exactly my scene.”

Vanessa scoffs. “Well, if you ever left your study...”

“I’m up for promotion!”

“You’ll be up for an ulcer if you don’t slow down. Besides, you deserve to let loose after... you know.”

You know, meaning his divorce, and the eighteen month shit-storm that preceded it.

Vanessa has the office next to his, and in between general grousing about University politics they’ve become close friends. It helps, of course, that she understands his situation all too well, and even though her parents never tried to strong-arm her to the altar, she and her girlfriend still have to hide their relationship from the rest of their colleagues.

Oliver sighs as he takes a second sip of his drink. “It’ll take more than a one night stand to loosen me up,” he tells her, and the filthy smirk that curls Vanessa’s lips has him tempted to bang his forehead against the table.

“Whatever tickles your pickle, Professor.”

“Why do I put up with you?”

“Hell if I know.” Slurring somewhat, she taps their cocktails together, and Oliver laughs as she leans forward, poking him in the chest. “Listen, Ollie, you and Micol did a spectacular job of making yourselves miserable, but at least you stayed faithful ‘til the end. Why not enjoy yourself, yeah?”

“Why not indeed?”

He’s aiming for sarcastic, yet his tone falls somewhere short of exhausted. She’s right, he realises, but Oliver hasn’t had much interest in men or women for a while. He’s not so deep in denial to admit his heart still belongs to another, and being hopelessly in love with someone he can’t have has done a real number on his libido.

“Damn! This place is heaving!” Simone says, slumping in her seat when she returns from the bathroom. Slinging an arm around Vanessa’s shoulder she drops a quick kiss to her cheek, and Oliver averts his eyes, the casual intimacy leaving him yearning for the impossible. “A few too many student-types for my liking, though. Makes me feel like I’m back in the theatre department.”

“Makes me feel like I’m pushing thirty,” Oliver mutters, painfully aware of the significantly younger crowd as he tugs at the cheap material of his shirt. Too many curries and not enough exercise has made him self-conscious of the few extra pounds at his waistline, and depressingly, twenty-eight feels ancient in comparison.

“You wanna call it a night?” Vanessa asks, and Oliver nods absently as his gaze catches on a couple in the middle of the dancefloor.

Caught in a world of their own, they make a striking picture. The taller of the pair is bleached-blond and athletic, his arms wrapped tightly around the slim waist of the man in front of him in a surprisingly protective gesture. Oliver can’t see his partner clearly from this angle, but his skin is pale and shimmering as they move to the beat, dark curls falling in a tousled mess. Whether it’s by artful design or sweat-damp from dancing, he can’t quite tell, yet Oliver is hypnotized by the way they bounce as he loses himself to the music, obscuring his vision until the other man reaches forward, gently brushing them away.

The bass pounds in his rib cage, and Oliver’s throat feels constricted as he watches the brunette link his hands behind his lover's neck. Profile half in shadows, he raises up on tiptoes to whisper in the shell of his ear, and Oliver experiences a crisis of tenderness when he butts their temples together. Something squirms in his stomach. Something raw and envious. Memories flare, unfair and brutal, and he immediately blames the burning of his retinas on the relentless assault of the strobe lights surrounding them.

“Oliver? You okay?”

No.

Definitely not.

The jostling crowd causes the blond to alter their position, and Oliver’s head spins from more than just the alcohol as his blood runs cold in his veins.

“Elio…” he murmurs, vaguely aware of Vanessa’s stifled gasp when she tries to get a better look.

“Your Elio?”

He wants it not to be - wants his eyes to be deceiving him - yet there’s no denying the truth. All that he’s forgotten - all that he’s clung to - coalesces in a rush of unslaked longing, and between one blink and the next, Oliver remembers everything.

“Not anymore,” he whispers, but then, why would he be?

Elio was seventeen when they first met, and Oliver isn’t naive enough to think he hasn’t fallen in and out of love many times since then. He’s beautiful, intelligent, talented beyond measure. Was he really so arrogant to imagine he would still be single? Pining for him, maybe? Saving himself? And for what? A six week romance one too-hot Italian summer? Something his cowardice cut short with a long-distance phone call?

He was, wasn’t he?

Arrogant.

And so very stupid.

“Of all the gay bars in all the world…” Vanessa takes a swig of her piña colada as he continues to spiral. “I thought you said he lived in Italy?”

“He did,” Oliver replies, picking at his thumbnail. “He moved here for school.”

“And you didn't contact him?”

“To say what?” His ears ring from the shrillness of her tone. “Hey, Elio. Remember that time I broke both our hearts ‘cause I’m a gutless schmuck? How about I buy you a coffee to make up for it?”

“It would’ve been a start.”

“It would’ve been selfish,” he says, tearing his eyes away. “He has enough on his plate with Juilliard. I’d only get in the -”

“Juilliard?” Simone’s low whistle interrupts his self-reproach. “Impressive.”

“Son of a professor,” Oliver explains. “I always knew he was a genius.” He gathers himself with a quiet huff. “Though he’ll probably say he knows nothing.” The spark of nostalgia is crippling, and it takes everything he has not to break down on the spot. “I should go,” he says, draining the remains of his drink as he rises to his feet.

“Oliver -”

“Why don’t you come back to ours?” Vanessa offers, making to follow, but whatever expression is on his face causes Simone to catch her by the wrist.

“We’re here if you need us, alright?”

“I know,” he says, eternally grateful for their support as he pushes some cab money into her hand. “Get home safe. I’ll call you in the morning, okay?”

“You’d better,” Vanessa tells him, obstinate in her concern, yet all he can focus on right now is leaving.

The swirling thoughts inside his head are all-consuming, but Oliver is determined to reign in his emotions for a little while longer. Ignoring the way his shoes stick to the tacky vinyl flooring, he grits his teeth as he snakes his way through the crush of humanity. He needs space. Fresh air. Hell, a damn time machine wouldn’t go amiss. He has nobody to blame but himself, and he’s halfway to the exit sign when his pace grinds to a halt, his masochistic streak unable to resist one last glimpse.

A flash of irrational panic makes him breathe in deep - hold it for a count of three - and when he turns to scan the roiling bodies that fill up the dance floor, he finds them immediately. The shock doesn’t lessen, and if Oliver thought his heart had broken when they’d clung to one another on a train station platform, it’s naught compared to when Elio tips the other man’s chin up with the same fingers that used to play his body like a finely tuned instrument. White noise fills his ears as he ghosts a kiss to his lips - two chaste pecks at first - and then harder. Hungry. Mouths open. Tongues swirling. Deep and dirty.

Just the way he likes it.

Fool that he is, Oliver doesn’t turn away. But he’s not the only one. Their bawdy display has garnered a small audience of the jealous and horny, and when the cat-calls eventually die down he notices a clearly disappointed red-head stalk past them on route to her table of friends.

Time has not domesticated him, it seems, and Oliver feels like crying as the world returns frame by frame - the oscillating pulse of the dance track. The lightning burst of colour from the laser system above. An innate sense of powerlessness floods through him - the depths of which he hasn’t experienced since Elio sobbed against his chest in an attic bedroom - and a heavy weight settles in his belly as he recognises the cues and rituals that were once directed at him alone.

Elio has obviously flourished in his absence. His body language is looser, more relaxed, assured in a way his younger self could only dream of, and Oliver allows an almost-smile as the couple laugh for a moment before turning to walk away.

His fingers itch for a cigarette - a habit he’s struggling to waive - and the next thing he knows he’s taking a seat at the bar, a double shot of bourbon in his hand he doesn’t remember ordering, and a screaming admonishment from his better judgement to not do anything stupid.

All I had to do was find the courage to reach out and touch, Elio said once, rife with self-mockery, and Oliver’s advice was to try again later. Was this it? Their later? And if not now, when? Because whatever his feelings of bitterness - whatever his misguided envy - if he lets this opportunity pass him by, he will always wonder. Always look.

In truth, he already does.

Ever since Samuel mentioned Elio was moving to the States, he’s carried the idle fantasy of crossing paths in some random book store, eyes locking across a busy street, a name - his, theirs, both - shouted across a bustling coffee shop. Of all eventualities, though, he hasn’t prepared for an Elio who might not be happy to see him. Who might dismiss him. Cast him aside like some ill-fitting chapter in the editing process. The context is all wrong, and for it to happen like this is akin to being plunged into the icy waters of the berm.

“Accidenti!” an achingly familiar voice says from somewhere behind him. “Are all Americans incapable of taking a hint? Or is it just an East Coast thing?”

“It’s the accent, mio amico. Fries their brains.”

“Never mind their brains,” Elio replies in the same lazy drawl. “I think you’ve sprained my tonsils.”

There’s a snicker to his left, and like a moth to a flame, Oliver peers up into the mirror behind the bar, only to find his living nightmare mere meters away, sharing a cigarette. Elio’s still wearing the same bracelets he did that summer, and three years of sleepwalking collapses around him as Oliver hunches over, palms sweating.

“Seriously though,” the blond continues. “Look at this place! Wall-to-wall entreés, and you won’t so much as skim the menu. You’re spoiled for choice, compagno.”

Elio scoffs as he brings the filter to his lips. “Didn’t I tell you choice is an illusion?”

“As is time, according to Adams.” The man slings an arm over his shoulders. “And here you are, free as a bird, wasting the perfect opportunity.”

Elio flips him the middle finger. “Stronzo,” he says, leaving Oliver more confused than ever as he studies him over the rim of his glass. “It’s a curse.”

“Self-inflicted, maybe.”

“So what’s the answer? And don’t say forty-two.”

The guy chuckles. “Variety,” he says, signalling the harried bartender. “Things didn’t work out with the violinist - I get it. È la vita! You’re not in the mood for pushy red-heads? Fine. But don’t sell yourself short. Trust Fund Tina’s not the only one checking you out.”

“Perhaps.”

“What perhaps?” A knowing smirk shoots in Oliver’s direction. “See for yourself.”

It’s like experiencing the first tremor of an earthquake. Elio was always a force of nature, and bracing for disaster, Oliver feels the fault lines buckle beneath him. He thought he was done letting fear and shame dictate his life, yet even now, at peace with his true self, he can’t bear to witness the seismic shift between past and present. Instead, he falls back on avoidance, tearing strips off a frayed beer mat until the hair prickles at his nape.

He can feel it - the instant his fate is sealed - and taking a deep breath Oliver returns his eyes to the mirror, meeting Elio’s stunned features. Dark brows climb towards his hairline as the happiness on his face shifts into something else. Something measured. Unrecognisable. A blank slate, almost. For a moment, Oliver fears he’s going to ignore him completely, but then Elio straightens his spine, offers the half-smoked cigarette to his friend, and with a few whispered words strides forward with purpose.

His daring is a law unto himself, but the look he’s giving him now exudes superiority - omniscience, almost - as if he can read every thought that’s going on inside Oliver’s mind, and has already deemed them wanting. It shouldn’t be such a turn on, yet his heart skips a beat regardless. Then another. Every instinct in his body tells him to reach out, to hold Elio’s hand, tuck those wild curls behind his ear, but it’s no longer his place - if it ever really was to begin with - so Oliver takes a deliberate sip of his whiskey, scared and aroused simultaneously, before swivelling towards him.

“Oliver.” His name on Elio’s lips - three smooth syllables - and he feels reborn. “Long time no see.” Hesitating, he offers up a pack of Luckies. “Fumo?”

“I shouldn’t,” he says, dragging trembling fingers through his hair. “I told myself I’d quit. God knows it won't take much to -”

“Tempt you?”

Heat rises to Oliver’s cheeks. “Yes,” he admits, and Elio’s smile is a shallow, brittle thing.

“Well, you know yourself,” he says, returning the cigarette carton to his pocket. “Don’t let me ruin your good intentions.”

His flippancy is like a red rag to a bull, and Oliver’s hackles rise as he sets his drink on the counter, irritated enough by Elio’s calm exterior to try and provoke a reaction. “Is your boyfriend not the jealous type?”

All he receives is an eye roll. “Bruno’s not my boyfriend.”

“Could’ve fooled me. From what I saw earlier.”

“You saw nothing,” Elio replies, defensive. “We’re friends. Roommates.”

“Roommates?” Rising from his stool, Oliver takes a step towards him. “That kiss -”

“Is none of your business. Not anymore.”

It hits him like a punch to the gut. Oliver’s lips part, but no sound passes between them. He’s being irrational, he’ll accept, but old habits die hard, and through sheer force of will he quashes down his guilt, knowing better than to use it as a weapon.

“Of course,” he says, chastened. “You’re right.”

“I usually am.”

“Elio…” This isn’t how he wants the conversation to go. “I know it’s too much to expect your forgiveness, but please don’t be angry with me. We were friends, once. Before anything else.”

“I’m not angry.” A beat. “Not anymore.” Tipping his chin, Elio folds his arms in front of him. One more barrier despite the brush-off. “I’m processing.“

“Processing?”

“Yes, processing. Originates from the Old French proces. Related to the Latin processus, and from the verb procedere in Middle English.”

“Wise ass.”

“Sempre.” Elio shrugs, watching him openly. “What are you doing here, Oliver?”

“My friends saw the flyers,” he says, bypassing the here, specifically, when Elio’s attention drops a few inches lower, and he realises he’s staring at his ring finger.

At the white line that’s all but vanished since he signed his way to freedom.

“You’re…”

Oliver clears his throat. “Divorced,” he manages, shuffling his feet. “Almost three months now.”

“Divorced?” Elio’s mask slams back into place, the distress in his voice palpable. “Why?”

And there are so many things he could say to that - the stress of his job, money, differing expectations - but this is Elio. His first love. His forever love. He, above anyone, deserves the truth.

“I think you know why.”

“Do I?” That same phony indifference. “What the eyes see, and the ears hear, the mind believes.”

“The truth is never that simple.”

“Not for us, it seems. Not in this world.” Elio gives his head a small but firm shake, blowing out a frustrated breath. “You know, tonight was supposed to lower my stress levels, not raise them,” he says, granting them a temporary reprieve. “But then, you always were hazardous to my blood pressure.”

“Trust me. The feeling’s mutual,” Oliver tells him wryly. “Might I recommend some deep breaths?”

“Deep breaths?” Elio rocks back on his heels. “If I had any peaches I’d be using my right hand.”

It catches him unawares, and Oliver can't help it. He snorts. Overcome by relief. Then he laughs - a weak sound, and damn near helpless - but a laugh, nonetheless. Cupping a palm to his mouth. Moving it to his eyes. Feeling the tears he’s been fighting since this whole debacle began.

“My God you’re incorrigible,” he mutters, the sharp stab of regret cutting him to the core as he glances over his shoulder, and the blond - Bruno - shoots him a wink. “When you said I saw nothing...”

The hesitant curve of Elio’s smile lights a fire in his chest. “There was a girl on the dance floor who wouldn’t take no for an answer. Lucky for me, Bruno’s never been shy about putting on a convincing performance.”

Oliver winces. “Well, I bought it.”

“Mission accomplished, then.” Elio edges closer. “I could’ve said the same for you, once upon a time.” The air between them grows charged. “Do you ever miss it?” he asks. “Italy, I mean?”

“Every single day.” Oliver finds himself captivated by the smattering of stubble along Elio’s jawline. The touch of smudged kohl beneath his lashes that turns his gaze smouldering. “Do you?”

“In a way.”

“Just a way?” He’s not entirely certain they’re talking about the same thing, and Vanessa’s advice seems all the more pertinent. “Let me buy you a coffee?” Oliver asks, and Elio frowns.

“What? Now?”

“If you like.”

“It’s gone midnight!”

“Tomorrow, then. Whenever you’re available.” Suddenly desperate, he closes the gap between them. “I can’t excuse my actions, Elio - I know I can’t - but at the very least I owe you an explanation.”

“Oliver...” This time it’s Elio who reaches out, his usually steady hands uncertain as they entwine with his. “I was young, not stupid. What’s there to forgive? You left because you had to. You married because -”

“I was weak.”

“Cazatte!” The tension in Elio’s body snaps back like a coil. “My father would have carted me off to a correctional facility,” he murmurs, squeezing his fingers tightly. “I’ll never forget those words.”

“I’m sorry...”

“Don’t be!” Elio sounds furious on his behalf. “Weak, you say? No. Control over others is the true weakness. Coercion. Conformity. All it does is breed hatred. And that’s not you. Not my Oliver.”

“Am I still?” he asks, laying his cards out on the table. “Your Oliver?”

“I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

Oliver swallows thickly. “I guess we will,” he says, dropping his forehead to Elio’s crown.

He’s braver at twenty-one than Oliver could have dared imagine, and for the first time in years the dull ache beneath his ribs is replaced by a different sort of craving. The way they fit together so easily, like no time has passed, fans the banked passions within him - the desire to press his lips against Elio’s neck, to nip his way along countless freckles until he can fist those unruly curls and guide his mouth back to where it belongs.

Flush against his.

Devouring.

But not yet.

This isn’t leading to sex. Not tonight. This is about reconciliation. Reassurance. Redemption.

“There’s a late-night diner on the corner…”

It’s a whisper against his cheek - so quiet he barely hears it - and Oliver leans down, pressing his face to Elio’s collarbone, breathing him in. He knows this won’t be easy - knows there will be dark clouds before the dawn - yet here they are, older and wiser, and three years might as well be yesterday as the parting crowds provide a temporary island in which to weather the storm.

#cmbyn roll the dice challenge #fanfic #oliver pov #elio and oliver #cmbynrollthedicechallenge

24 notes · View notes

mvnvgedmischief · 4 years ago

Text

unremarkable days.

summary: sirius black is trying to be a good man, a good brother, a good person. Sirius has a steady job designing book covers for a publishing house, a flat he never leaves, and a traumatized brother who was just removed from the custody of his parents. All in all, it's wildly unremarkable.

chapter: 4/?

characters: sirius black, regulus black, wolfstar, background marauders

tags: tw: canon compliant abuse, child abuse, social services, abuse

words: 3. 8 k

read it on ao3 here

read the last chapter here

Sirius knew that work was going to be high stress all day. He felt sick to his stomach, thinking about the way he would continuously have to talk to people, when all he wanted was some peace. He wanted downtime. Time when he didn’t have to think about how he needed his paycheck to put food on the table, clothes on his brother’s back, pay bills to keep his lights on, wifi for homework. Regulus occupied his thoughts at all times, protecting him was Sirius’s only priority these days. He didn’t have time for anything else. Not his friends, not his interests, not music. Nothing could come between his focus and his brother’s wellbeing, because if it did, Sirius would never forgive himself. The consequences were too dire. So instead, he just wished for downtime that wouldn’t come, and prayed for the weekend to approach even faster.

The weekend, when he could finally sleep again, albeit not well. The weekend, when he had the time to take a breath, even if it was only brief. Because his weekends were also spent finding ways to better equip his apartment for his younger brother, going to long grocery runs so Regulus had lunch to take to school, meal prepping all of the things he couldn’t bring himself to eat for dinner. He was definitely tired of all of the ways his mind was spiraling out, he didn’t have the time. He didn’t fault Regulus for it, it wasn’t the teen's presence in his life that was causing all this stress. It really was his own fault. A bit of crying at that first hearing had given Walburga and Orion the satisfaction of a victory over him at that first hearing, and they seemed to crave more of that chaos. They wanted to watch their children suffer, and this was how they chose to do that. So instead he spiraled in the privacy of his own home, because he could practically hear the words they burned into his mind whenever he saw them, and feel the ache of old beatings.

But it was only Thursday, and that meant he still had to do this all day, and then get berated by the rest of the team for not attending their weekly bonding happy hour. If he was lucky, no one would ask him to go. He knew he should be less terrified of them asking, most of the people on his team were his friends. There was simply the question of Remus, and Sirius didn’t have the time to be thinking about him in the first place.

He didn’t have time to think about the way his hair curled just the right way to fall into his eyes when he slept, or the way his caramel freckles made him look sunkist. He didn’t have time to think about the pink scars that ran down Remus’s face or how they got there. He definitely didn;’t have time to think of the comfort of his hand combing through Sirius’s own mop of unruly curls. So instead, he needs to put all of that out of his mind. It wasn’t going to help him do well at work. It wasn’t going to solve his problems. He didn’t have the time for this, nor did he have the emotional bandwidth. Perhaps that was why Sirius was conveniently avoiding the idea that he had asked Remus on a date. With some luck, Remus would think he was just an asshole who ghosted him. That was definitely complicated by the fact that they worked together, that he couldn’t just disappear. He wanted to, he really did, because there was simply no time.

He set up his deliverables as though he had made tons of them, because his employment in this company rode on it. Just two months ago, he was pegged to be promoted within the next two cycles, and now he could barely hold on to his sanity enough to handle his workload. He was so fucking tired, and he had so much on his plate. He needed to mentally prepare himself for the long day of meetings ahead of him. He had no true motivation to do his job right now, all he knew was that his exhaustion was no excuse. He knew that his boss, Alice, was giving him a whole lot of leeway right now. She was probably doing more than she should to help him. Being a mentor on the senior design team didn’t mean she needed to keep tabs on his personal life and pick up his slack.

“Sirius–”

When Sirius focused back into the meeting he was calling into, it occurred to him that they’re talking to him. So he did what he always did, blamed it on a shoddy connection.

“Oh, sorry, can you repeat that? My audio cut out.”

“Remus was saying that some of the poems could probably use illustrations, and he was wondering if you had any ideas on which ones needed it.”

“Thanks, Peter.” Sirius was glad that he knew the people on this team, that Peter and James were as close to him as anyone could be. Because otherwise, he’d probably be fucked.

“So I was looking through them, and I was thinking Bite, Magick, and Love I could probably use larger scale illustrations. But at the same time, we don’t want to crowd the book. How attached are you to the current order or page arrangement?”

It felt too close, but he was lucky that he had at least read the titles of some of the poems in the first half of the book. Sirius knew Remus didn’t actually know what his level of involvement was. He thought it was just doodles, but Sirius would be responsible for presenting everything from kearning and font choice within the pages, to illustration and cover art to the design team. He was integral to the success of this book as a product, and he needed to start acting like it.

“I’m pretty attached.” Remus sounded cold to Sirius, and he wondered what exactly he had done wrong in this meeting. And yet, he didn’t have time to think on it. He needed to keep things moving, keep getting valuable information out of the author. Hook up be damned, Sirius needed this book to actually get off the ground.

“Okay, well we should get a meeting on the calender to discuss. What poems and what scale of illustrations you want–”

“Shouldn’t you be deciding what the illustrations look like and the logistics of those. Isn’t that what you get paid for?” Remus really wasn’t making this easy on Sirius. But he had dealt with bigger demons and divas then whatever this attitude was. So he put on a light and airy smile, one they’d never know didn’t reach his eyes over the low quality webcam and nodded.

“If you’d like to take a hands off approach with the design work, that can absolutely be arranged. But in the case of a fledgling project with a new author, the design team, myself included, really hope to prioritize your artistic license so that we can get a better sense of your vision for your literature, should Quill move forward with other publications in the future. We can provide a completely in-house service, with as much input as you feel necessary during the design process, and deliver collateral towards the end of the project when final edits are done, if you would prefer, Mister Lupin.”

Sirius practically wanted to scream. He needed Remus to stop fucking with his job, with his livelihood. He couldn’t lose this project. He needed all of the billable hours he could get if he was going to justify the overtime he needed in order to provide for his brother. This was ridiculous. But his clinical and polite answer must have thrown Remus, because he didn’t get much more attitude out of him. The back and forth had ended. So instead, Sirius pulled up his deliverables for the week, which included new iterations for the covers, and twelve illustrations for the three poems he had mentioned.

He noticed the way Remus looked at his drawings, like he was pained by whatever his thoughts were, and Sirius wants to scream that he’s under no obligation to think that they’re good. But then he remembers that Remus seemed to be nitpicking on purpose, based on his critique of the design system itself. Sirius didn’t have the time to deal with that level of petty, just because he hadn’t been answering. He was too busy. He had too much on his plate. So instead he continues his presentation.

“I don’t like any of these. Maybe you should start over.” Remus sounded vindictive, even mean. Like he was doing this out of spite. Sirius could feel his heart drop in that moment. He didn’t want to start over. He didn’t have the time.

“What do you not like about them?” Sirius is trying to salvage his work while he can.

“The vibe is off.”

“Oh, is there something specific that throws it off or...” Sirius trailed off, wondering what exactly he needed to change.

“No, it’s the whole thing. All of them are just off.”

Sirius needed to think quick on his feet. He didn’t have the time to start from scratch, so he pulled up his original thumbnails that he had discussed with Remus.

“These are the original sketches we discussed. I moved forward with the ones we talked about. I’m happy to rework those sketches,” no, he wasn’t. “But if there’s another sketch that you think would fit your vision better, please let me know.” He felt like he was pleading with Remus not to hate his artwork. He’d be a liar if he said it wasn’t a blow to his self esteem to hear that everything that he did was bad.

“No, I would suggest you start over.”

Sirius nodded, his mind immediately whirring with ways he could start over and re-design this project. He really didn’t want to do it. He didn’t want to do hundreds of thumbnails to get set on thirty, only to be destroyed in a meeting again. Especially when Remus seemed so excited about all of his illustrations before the meetings. It felt like too much. He didn’t have the energy for this kind of behavior.

Luckily, Marlene directed the conversation away from Sirius’s work. The rest of the call went on without a hitch, like the only person who’s work Remus had a problem with was Sirius’s. He knew that it was more likely for Remus to have a problem with him, because design work was usually something an artist thought of as easy; however, this felt calculated and cold. If Sirius had been avoiding Remus before, it definitely wasn’t about to get better. So instead, he listened to the end of the meeting, and started the project all over again. He could do this. It was an unremarkable critique. It didn’t matter.

23 notes · View notes

wiypt-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Too Loose And You’ll Lose It

Chapter 6: Jesus Is My Homeboy Co-written with @icanfeelastormbrewing

Summary: Jake and Stella spend an afternoon looking for suitably embarrassing photos of Pooch to use on his Stag Party and when they find some older shots of themselves they take a trip down memory lane. But the trip is cut short when Evan arrives.

Pairing: Jake Jensen x OFC Stella Stevenson

Warnings: Bad language, Smut (NSFW, 18+)

A/N: So this chapter was written for For @sweater-daddiesdumbdork and @sagechanoafterdark ‘s Winter/Holiday Challenge. Prompt- “That is the ugliest sweater I have ever seen.”

TLAYLI Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 5

They were running low on time. There were so many things to do before Pooch’s stag party in four weeks that The Losers had all agreed they should split their forces to get everything ready for the weekend in New York. As such, Stella and Jensen had ended up pooling their resources and were currently browsing through pictures on Jake's laptop while Pooch was on his lunch break. Unfortunately, Cougar had the day off so he wouldn't be able to stall Pooch at the small café down the street but that would pose no problem if they hurried and got what they needed fast. Mind you, Jolene had done her fair share of work and had sent them a bunch of shaming Pooch pictures they could use for their ‘mission’ and picking the most embarrassing ones should surely be easy as pie.

The problem was, however, that Jensen was finding it hard to concentrate and keep his eyes and mind focused on the screen. In fact, hard didn’t even come close to describing. He was leaning so close to Stella as they studied his computer screen that he could smell her shower gel. A scent of vanilla and pumpkin which he could easily identify anywhere with his eyes closed. Not that he needed to keep his eyes open to smell something but he knew what he meant…

"Oh my god, Jake! Look at his fucking hair!" Stella suddenly shrieked before starting to howl, startling him and pulling him out of his useless wandering thoughts.

"What?" he asked looking at her before glancing back at the screen again as Stella grabbed the mouse and clicked on a picture to magnify it and show a young Pooch sporting an afro hairdo which made Jensen blink.

"Didn’t know Pooch was part of the Jackson 5" he laughed before he inhaled and looked at her “Oh my God, Stel, they were really the Jackson 6. Pooch is the missing link. Poor Pooch, abandoned after birth, discarded youngest son of an already overcrowded family." He sighed and Stella howled again, this time banging her hand on the desk.

"Did Jolene send you these?"

Jensen grinned, smug he was making Stella laugh hard at his wisecracks. "Yup."

"He is gonna kill you." Stella snorted as she shook her head.

"Nah, he will be too drunk to care, as we will all be." Jensen offered as he saved the picture into another folder, missing Stella wrinkling her nose, but hearing her sigh before speaking.

"I dunno if I'm going yet."

"What? Why?" Jensen inquired hastily, turning to look at her. "You have to come, Stel!"

"Yeah, but I’m not so sure. I mean it was nice of Pooch to count me in but..."

"He counted you in because he wants you there. You're a Loser." Jensen cut her off before she could even doubt her place in the tight group they all formed.

"Yes I know that and I want to spend a good time with you guys but…" she trailed off and at that Jensen inhaled and shuffled on his chair to sit facing her. She hadn't spent any decent time with them for the last month. Every time they organised something she ended up backing out as Agent Shithead happened to have booked them something to do, on the exact same night, always a coincidence.

Bullshit if you asked Jensen.

He was just pondering how exactly he could point that out to her, without pissing her off, when she continued talking.

"Ev was on about us going away that weekend. He's busy for the week or so after with stuff at home, so I won’t get to see him."

There it is, Jensen thought, but did his best to stay calm, even though he wanted nothing more than to scream at Stella that the guy was a jerk and it was clear he was doing this to keep her away from him. But Jensen knew he couldn't do that, not without ratting his nosy ass out for listening into their argument the other month, so instead he decided to keep it cool and play the role of the concerned, interested best friend and confidant.

"Oh, what's he got on at home?" he spoke, pleased to hear his voice sounded interested as opposed to prying. "His Auntie is moving house and he's helping. Then there’s like decorating and stuff so we won't see each other." Stella explained and Jensen could clearly see her frown burrow as she repeated what he suspected were the exact same words Shithead had told her, but the look on her face made it seem as if she was doubting them almost, now she was the one that was uttering them. Jensen felt a flicker of hope and sighed as he looked at her, pondering what to say. Don't jinx it now, Jensen.

"Don't sigh at me like that Jake." she pleaded, somewhat guiltily. "I was just thinking…good luck explaining to Pooch you’re not coming to New York with us because your boyfriend is busy the week after." he explained himself, almost spitting the word boyfriend, which he regretted the moment he did as he could see Stella's expression change from a concern to anger as he glared at him. "Don't start, Jensen." "I’m not starting anything, Stevenson." He declared, using her surname as well, making it clear her calling him by his hadn't gone unnoticed. "Just trying to make you see you’re missing Pooch’s Batchelor Party, which will only happen once in his life, so as not to make your boyfriend angry." "It's not about not making him angry, for fucks sake" Stella almost growled, visibly annoyed at his insinuation. "You sure about that? What would his reaction be if you told him you were coming with us?" Jensen pressed, ignoring all the red flags her tone and expression carried, in a desperate attempt to make her see for herself what, to him, was crystal clear.

Fuck it Stel, why can't you see it? "I don't know.” Stella said, somewhat exasperatedly as she gave a shrug “He wouldn't be mad, probably disappointed but..."

However, as she spoke there was something in her voice and Jensen squinted his eyes at her. He could tell she understood that to be not entirely truthful, as he knew she was well aware Evan had a temper. Stella herself had kicked him out of her apartment the very same day he had confessed to her he didn’t want her near her ex, and from what he had heard since about a few other arguments they had, it always ended the same. Him raising his voice and guilt tripping her into thinking she was to blame.

So, all things considered, Jensen decided to change strategy and go down the guilt trip road. "Ok. Whatever you wanna do. But remember, disappointment goes both ways Stel." he stated as he shrugged and focused his attention back on the screen. "What's that supposed to mean?" Stella asked, frowning. "Just that by not disappointing your boyfriend, you’re gonna end up disappointing Pooch. But I guess its fine, he still got the rest of us. I just hope it doesn’t bit you on the ass one day.” He insisted on making his point while flicking through the rest of the pictures. His eyes didn't leave the screen but he heard her groan besides him.

"You know what? I can't be bothered listening to you bitch." She pinched the bridge of her nose.

"I’m not bitching Stel. Do whatever you think you should do. You already know my opinion, so that’s the last thing I’ll say on the topic." he said as he looked at her from the corner of his eye. "That'll be a first." Stella snorted, folding her arms over her chest. "Well if it has to be, so be it." Jensen shrugged again as if he couldn't care less, but he could feel her eyes on him and he fought to avoid turning his head to look at her.

"Just flip to the next photo JJ, before I smash your head through the desk."

Jensen was fuming now, but decided not to acknowledge that last comment, thinking instead when he finally unmasked Shithead, she’d be eating her words and apologising big time. Instead, he fought the anger down, took a deep breath and did as he had been told, flipping to the next picture which drew a smile to his face. It was a shot of all the Losers out at Christmas a few years back, five faces grinning into the camera while wearing tacky Christmas sweaters.

And, just as Jensen expected, Stella laughed heartily when her eyes spotted the one he had on and he grinned.

"You still have that sweater?" Stella chuckled, pointing at the item of clothing which depicted Jesus wearing a party hat whilst holding a balloon, with the words ‘BIRTHDAY BOY’ written underneath "Yup. Don’t know where though. Must be at my parents. That’s if Gracie hasn’t found it and decided it’s the coolest thing ever."

“No one would decide that’s the coolest thing ever.” Stella laughed again and then grabbed his arm. "Oooh! Do you still have the photo of the time we went out back home with them all on, the Christmas before we passed out of training?"

Jensen took his eyes off her hand that was still grabbing his arm and rubbed his beard while thinking about the system folder the picture may be in. "Yeah, I think it might be in one of these." he said as he clicked on one named ‘Good Times’. Stella could see a load of thumbnails as they popped up on the screen. They were mainly shots of his family, but there were also a few of her and him and a couple of him and Gracie. And she was just thinking about how he still had some of the pictures they had taken together all those years back, wondering to herself if that meant he still cared for her after everything that had happened between them or if he had simply forgotten they were there in the first place, when she heard him say "Yup. There it is."

"Oh my God, look at that Jakey!" she squealed, her gorgeous smile on her face again, as Jensen noticed she was back at Jakey. “We look so young.”

Jensen smiled broadly at her before turning to look at the picture again, taking every detail of it in. It was a picture of him, his dad, Rob and Stella all in horrific sweaters. Jake wore the aforementioned item bearing the large Jesus image, Rob’s was a Home Alone themed Sweater, featuring the infamous picture Kevin finds in his brother’s room along with the quote- ‘Buzz, your girlfriend…woof!’ John’s had a 3D elf attached to the bottom emblazoned with the slogan ‘When I think about you I touch my Elf’ and Stella’s was the classier of the four, a sparkly green Christmas tree effect, with baubles hanging all over it. The four of them were rosy cheeked from alcohol (well, mostly…) and smiling broadly, Stella stood next to Jake as his arm curled around her waist, John to her other side as his draped over her shoulder.

Happier, simpler times for them all.

"Remember that afternoon?" Jensen asked her, smiling softly at a grinning and younger Stel on the screen. "Yeah." Stella smiled at him. "It was the afternoon of our annual Secret Santa dinner night at your mom and dad’s." Jake then turned to look at her, grinning. "That’s not what I was asking, Stel." She chuckled and rolled her eyes. "You want me to say I remember our bunk up in the bathroom?" "Yup." he replied as he wriggled his eyebrows playfully at her. "My sweater was missing a few baubles when we made it back into the bar." "Yeah" he reminisced as he grinned wildly. "Birthday boy got his very own porn show.”

Stella snorted, slapping his arm. "We are so going to Hell for that."

"Well if that's what Hell is like baby, I don't wanna go to Heaven." he quipped cheekily, making Stella slap his arm again.

“Stop it, Jake!"

"Okay, okay, sorry..." he chuckled. But he wasn’t sorry in the slightest about bringing up that memory and as Stella turned her eyes back to the screen he found himself back in that bar, one Friday afternoon in December 2002. It was the day before Christmas Eve and he, his dad and Rob were out for drinks on what could have been deemed as a forced boys’ afternoon because his mom had kicked them out not long after lunch stating that she and Jane were doing dinner with Jules. Apparently they needed to get started like five fucking hours in advance for some reason and thus, all three men had found themselves at their local bar at four p.m. wearing their ugly Christmas sweaters as was the tradition on that day. What they hadn't counted on was having to go out in them, least of all to a bar where almost everyone knew them.

Stella was meeting her girlfriends for a shopping afternoon before they all met up for dinner and drinks and the annual "joke" Secret Santa. Only this year they were two down as Rey and Dick were in Florida visiting some of Dick's extended family, who knows who exactly, as Jake wasn't very fond of paying attention to details when Dick Fitzpatrick spoke. What he did know however, was that they would also be examining pretentious venues for their wedding the year after.

Fifteen minutes after their first round was served, Jensen was putting his empty beer down as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and John immediately nudged him. "Give it a rest son! You've been glued to that all afternoon."

"Yeah. What are you doing? Talking to someone?" Rob snorted, rolling his eyes. "I wonder who."

Jensen grinned. "Not my fault my girl can't stand not to message me for more than thirty minutes."

“Keep telling yourself that. It’s you who can’t stand not talking to her." Rob quipped as John chuckled and nodded in agreement.

"You saying I'm whipped Robert?" Jensen asked sternly, tilting his head to look at him before his face split into another huge grin. "Because you would be absolutely right and I'm not ashamed to admit it."

At that he waved at the bartender and ordered another round while John snorted and Rob shook his head.

"We’ve lost him, John." "We lost him a long time ago, Rob” John sniggered and Rob nodded seriously. "Yeah, so says Jane." He spoke as he leaned on the bar. "Shut up Robert, you're the one that drove two hundred miles home at like four a.m. because Jane was crying she had period cramps and you were away with work." Jensen jabbed at his brother in law.

"He got you there pal." John laughed loudly as Rob narrowed his eyes.

"How do you know that?"

Jensen just shrugged. "I’m her little brother, I know things."

Rule number two?... four?..., whatever, in military training; never reveal your sources or methods of information.

But Rob wasn't buying any of Jensen’s bullshit and narrowed his eyes again. "Jane told Stella, didn't she?"

"Maybe."

Maybe wasn't a yes, right?

Rob rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

"You wanna make this a competition? Because Jake’s been like that for years now." John teased Rob.

“Oh, shut up dad." Jensen protested as he passed him one of the beers the bartender had just placed in front of them.

John laughed before raising his bottle "You already admitted you were whipped!" and Jensen groaned as his dad took a big gulp of his second beer. "You know, Son. I'm kinda offended you don't make me coffee and toast every morning."

"What?" Rob asked, spluttering beer all over the bar.

"Every time Stel stays over, he makes her coffee and toast in bed. Fuck the rest of us, like.."

Jensen grinned and cut his dad off straight away. "No. I don't fuck the rest of you, which is why I don’t make you breakfast."

At that some of the usual patrons turned to look at them as Rob started howling at John’s face. "He’s not wrong John."

"Guess I asked for that one." John mused before taking another sip of beer.

"You totally did, dad."

"Cheers to that." Rob quipped as he and Jensen clinked their bottles together.

"What is this, gang up on John day?"

"Come on old man. Don’t get angry and order another round for us." Jensen grinned, chugging his beer down and patting his dad's shoulder. So John did, and then when they finished that it was Rob’s turn to buy, and thus the cycle continued two hours later they were still perched at the same place at the bar, talking nonsense with alcohol running freely through their systems.

"Pity Rey and Dick are away this year because I had found the perfect shit Secret Santa gift for her." Rob whined and Jensen sniggered by his side. "A joke book?" "Nope. Her boyfriend is the joke." Rob quipped and both men started laughing until John corrected Rob.

"Ah ah ah, her fiancé." "Yup, right. Her fiancé." Rob repeated, raising his beer in a mock toast.

Jensen chuckled and leaned his head on his right arm where it was folded on the bar before speaking. "Fahk man. All she talks about is that fahkin’ wedding." "Well she's excited, son." John shrugged. "Too excited. She’s got Jane on the phone, all day." Rob complained and, at that, Jensen groaned raising his head again to look at Rob.

"And Stella, man. She’s dreading whatever bridesmaid dress Rey picks." Jensen paused, before grinning widely. "When me and Stel get married it's just gonna be one big party." John and Rob shared a glance. "Well, we’ll see if you stay true to your word when we come to it." John said simply, not knowing if it was drunken Jensen speaking or if his son was being serious about it. But Jensen's next comment left no room for doubt.

"We already talked about it. No fancy ass do just a simple set of I dos and a fuck load of fun." Jake stated seriously.

Rob shared another quick glance with John as he raised an eyebrow. "You two talked about it?"

"Yeah." Jensen nodded but then frowned, spotting the expression on his sister's boyfriend's face. "What's the issue?"

"What's the issue? For fucks sake, Jake. You're only twenty-one" Rob argued and Jensen was fast to cut him

"So what? When you know, you know Rob."

"And what can you possibly know at twenty-one?" Rob insisted.

Jake just shrugged, any possible concern on Rob's part falling on deaf ears, he just knew. "Never be another girl for me."

At that John decided to help his son out. "To be fair Rob, he's been in love with her for basically the last ten years. Was just too chicken to do anything about it until he was seventeen"

Rob snorted and shook his head as he raised his beer to Jake. "Cheers to that man. You're a goner." and then sipped from his bottle before continuing. "You wanna spend your life with Rey as a sister in law, be my guest."

Jake looked at him and then shrugged again. "Worth it."

"Well, I guess that speaks for itself." Rob finally conceded which put a big smile on Jensen's face before he made a confession.

"I'd ask her now but we got training to finish first, so..." and then Jake hiccuped before gulping down the rest of his beer.

When they all finished their drinks and another round was ordered the three men were in an inevitable semi-drunk state and, as was to be expected, started cracking jokes and, what was worse, singing out loud. After being told to quit their fourth rendition of ‘Oh, Christmas Tree!’ by the bar tender, they moved back to jokes, Rob and Jensen trying to out-do each other with the trusty old ‘Yo Momma jokes’.

Jensen nailed rob with the one about his momma being so stupid she stared at a cup of orange juice for twelve hours because it said concentrate, to which Rob responded that Jensen’s momma was so short you could see her feet on her driver’s license photo. They continued getting more and more insulting until Rob grinned and pointed his bottle at Jensen, smirking.

“Yo momma’s so ugly, she threw a boomerang and it refused to come back.”

"Hey!" John protested, suddenly zoning into the conversation, making the two younger men howl with laughter. He clutched his glass as he glared at Rob. "You're my least favourite son in law now, Danby." "I’m your only son in law John." "Yeah, and you're shit." John stated, tipping his bottle towards Rob, spilling a little of the pilsner he was drinking onto the bar surface. "I’ll tell Jane you said that." "Tell her whatever you want. I’m her favourite father." John shrugged, taking a large gulp of his beer. "As opposed to that other one who shows up on her birthday, Thanksgiving and Christmas?" Jensen quipped, grinning at his father. "What?" John asked, not understanding what shit his son was talking but then he realised what he had just said and snorted. "Oh God, I think I’m drunk. Your mother is so gonna kill me." "Just blame John. She can't shout at him." Jensen offered, trying to keep a straight face at his father's frown. "John? Who’s John?" Rob and Jensen started pissing themselves laughing at John's dumbfounded face. "John Jensen, best disgusting person." Jake shrugged. John frowned and suddenly realised "Oh, you mean me? Hey! Why am I disgusting?"

"Because we have pretty much finished our drinks, your lagging behind and you haven’t ordered a new round yet.” Jensen fired his shot.

"I bought the last one." John reminded his son.

"No, you didn’t. Rob did." Jensen quipped as he winked at Rob.

"Yeah, he's right John. I did." Rob played along.

John was about to tell them both to piss off as he wasn't that drunk when he spotted Stella and her friends entering the bar and decided to play his son, with his one and only weakness. "Tell you what. Whoever cracks a smile first buys the next round. If you can go for two minutes I’ll buy the next ones. Think you can keep a straight face boys?” he baited them. "You mean you want us to be grumpy like you old man?” Jensen arched an eyebrow as he hiccupped. “But it’s Christmas, what’s there to be grumpy about.”

"You chicken, Son?” John teased him and Rob whistled as Jensen stopped dead, his almost empty beer bottle poised at his mouth.

"You just call me a chicken?” he slammed the bottle down on the surface, wrinkling his nose as he waved his hand in the air “Whatever man, start the damned timer."

John did as told and put his phone at the centre of the table, so they could clearly see it counting upwards. The three men started looking at one another, examining each other’s faces for a flick of a smile as they tried to keep their own as straight as possible. And just as the two minutes were about to expire John tapped Jensen on his shoulder and nodded behind him.

Jake turned and just as he did a huge grin broke on his face as he spotted Stella, Then he realised, turning hastily to his dad with a groan. "Damned it!! You stitched me up."

John was already cackling as Rob banged on the bar, both men unable to hold back the tears of laughter.

"You know what, I don’t care. Here.” Jensen said as he slapped twenty bucks on the bar. "Imma go say hi to my Stelly." "Yeah, go Son. Say hi to your Stelly." John mocked him as he wiped the tears in his eyes. But before Jensen left, Rob nodded to the twenty bucks and looked at John.

“Another twenty say he doesn’t come back in the next fifteen minutes."

"You think it'll take him that long?" John scoffed, earning a glare from Jensen who then looked at Rob.

"You suck.” Jake hiccuped. "Talking about sucking, fifteen minutes Jake." Rob teased him, tapping at his wrist. "II only need ten.” Jensen shrugged.

At that Rob looked at John who shook his head with a smirk as he set the timer again. They then saw Jensen leave, crossing the room over to his girl.

As he approached, Jensen saw Stella's cheeks were pink most likely from a combination of alcohol and cold. As she spotted him, those cheeks raised showing off her dimples and her cute little nose wrinkled as she grinned hugely which Jensen loved. "Hi Jakey!"

"Hi, gorgeous." he greeted her back before kissing her and then grinned at her friends. "Ladies?"

They all murmured hi and Stella looked at him. "You gonna buy me a drink?"

"I’m buying you all a drink but you’re gonna have to help me bring them to the table, baby." Jensen offered, getting his plan rolling.

The girls all cheered Jensen and ‘complimented’ his sweater in return for the free drinks. "Jesus is my homeboy." he stated, seriously puffing out his chest causing Stella’s friends to laugh. "You’re so full of shit." she snorted.

"Rude, Stel."he narrowed his eyes playfully. "True." she admitted as she stood up patted Jesus's head. "Come on then, let's get these drinks. Be back in a moment girls."

"Yeah, sure." One of them spoke as the rest all giggled. "Don't make it too long guys."

Jake chuckled as he grabbed Stella’s hand and started leading her through the room.

"Jake, the bar is that way.” She started to protest. "Need a pit stop." He replied simply. "Right well you go pee and I'll meet you at the bar. Gimme your wallet." Stella ordered as she stopped in her tracks behind Jensen.

"Nope. You coming with me." he ignored her request, pulling her hand to keep her walking.

"What?"

Jensen didn't answer her but yanked her towards the men’s restroom. "Shhh..."

"I'm not going in there Jake!" Stella protested.

"All right. Ladies it is” Jensen quickly spun to the door next to the gent’s and Stella scoffed.

"Jake! No!" She stopped again and yanked on his arm hard enough to make him jerk back, turn and bump into her slightly. “What's up?” his hands fell to her hips as he began to walk them backwards into the ladies bathroom. As he pushed the door open he checked around to make sure they were alone and began to pull her further into the room, ignoring her protests. He dropped his head to whisper in her ear, stopping just outside an open cubicle “You losing your sense of adventure, baby?” he softly nipped at her neck and she shuddered “God, you’re a damn bastard, Jakey.” She whispered.

“Yeah but I’m your damn bastard, Stelly.” “Oh, shut up!” she mumbled, grabbing the front of his sweater and pulling him towards her for a ferocious kiss before she pushed him into the cubicle, his lips curling into a smirk against her mouth. Once inside he backed her up against the door, reaching round to lock it, before his large hands cupped her face, the kiss growing deeper as his tongue slid against hers, grazing the roof of her mouth as she fisted her hands in his sweater.

“Don’t pull Jesus’ hair too much.” He quipped and she grinned, her hands sliding up into his own short locks, giving a shark yank tipping his head back, bearing his neck to her.

“I’ll just pull yours instead.”

A low growl rumbled in his throat as his hand slid up her sweater, his leg moving forward as he planted his thigh in between hers. She let out a moan as he pushed up sharply, the harsh denim of both their jeans grinding on her spot. She was soaked already, and when his fingers started to undo the buttons of her pants she was relieved that he wasn’t wasting any time. He pulled them downwards and pulled off the boot on her left foot, allowing her to step one leg out of her jeans, freeing her legs slightly as he gripped her left thigh, hooking it over his hip. Planting one hand by the side of her head, his other shifted her panties to one side, and he grinned again, his lips hovering over hers.

“You know, for all your protests, you feel pretty ready, Darlin’”

“Shut up and fuck me Jake.” She mumbled as his lips caught the pulse point on her neck, her head banging against the cubicle door causing it to rattle as his fingers slid into her folds, one circling her clit.

“This what you want?” he asked, his breath was low.

“God, yes!” she muttered as his fingers picked up the pace. He inserted one inside, then another, and her head fell forward onto his shoulder as he curled it forward his digits forward against her spot, thumb circling her clit. Moving his other hand he slid it up her jumper and pulled down the cups of her bra freeing her breasts, gently rolling one nipple in between his fingers, his other hand still fucking her gently and she let out a gasp.

“Jakey for God’s Sake just fuck me already!” she repeated her demand and Jake grinned.

“I love it when you beg.”

“Prick.” She mumbled, as her hands flew to the buckle on his belt, opening it with a clink of metal before she easily undid his jeans, her fingers pushing them and his boxers down, allowing his hard cock to spring loose. Jensen hooked his hands under her knees and lifted her so her legs were round his waist, back pressed to the locked cubicle door. Once more he claimed her mouth with a heated kiss, swallowing the dirty groan she gave as he pushed into her.

Her walls gripped him with their familiar warmth and tightness and with a sigh he began to move, slowly at first, gently, her hands grasping at his shoulders as she tilted her hips towards him, her clit grinding against his pubic bone and it was then that one of the baubles on her jumper pinged loose and dropped to the floor with a soft chink.

“Shit.” She mumbled, but her word cut off as Jensen rotated his hips, pushing against her harder and she gasped as his hips quickened their pace, his ruts becoming deeper and faster. Soon the bathroom was filled with the filthy sound of skin on skin, moans and groans, punctuated by the odd soft clink as bauble after bauble worked itself free from Stella’s sweater. Her hands were everywhere-in his hair, up his back, under his top, nails biting at the skin as she hung onto him for dear life. Jensen continued to slam into her again and again, lips kissing down her jawline, neck, nipping and biting softly as he went.

“God I love you, Jakey” Stella gasped, her hands now on his face, bringing his mouth round to kiss hers again, the pads of her fingers digging into his short stubble.

“Love you too, my Stelly” he moaned into her mouth, the noise of the door behind continuing to rattle loudly as his pace didn’t falter in the slightest.

“Fuck…” she moaned, her nails sliding up into his hair and Jensen gave a gasp as he felt her tighten around him Her heels, one still wearing a boot, dug into his ass, her nails digging into his scalp as she groaned, her eyes wide. “Jakey, I’m…”

“You gonna come for me?” He asked as his mouth hovered over hers, eyes locked on hers, watching, and she nodded, a whimper escaping her throat, as her head banged back against the door.

“Shit, Jake, oh, oh…” and then her words and little noises died off, her mouth dropping open into a silent scream as she clamped around him, hard as her release took her away. Her entire body shook and Jensen gave a strangled groan that bubbled from the depths of this chest, and he clutched her to him, tightly, hips stuttering as he shuddered with the utter intensity of it all, before he too came hard with as surge that curled his toes.

Their chests heaved together as Stella clung to him, Jake’s head pressed into the crook of her shoulder as they both waited for the world to stop spinning around them. After a moment or two, Stella began to chuckle and Jake moved, pressing his forehead to hers, their noses bumping as he kissed her softly.

“You good?” he asked and she nodded.

“I am but I think poor Jesus will be scarred for life.” She grinned and Jake laughed, before he pulled out of her with a gentle sigh, setting her back on her feet. “Can we get that drink now?” she asked.

Jake laughed before he remembered what Rob and his dad had said to him and he quickly grabbed his phone, smirking.

9 minutes…

The memory faded away as Stella’s voice hit his ears and he turned to her “Sorry, what?”

She rolled her eyes. “I knew you weren't listening!”

“Sorry, was just thinking about that afternoon.” He grinned “Dad and Rob were highly amused we did the dirty with Jesus watching.”

“And whose fault was that?” Stella arched an eyebrow at him.

“I didn't hear you complaining. Well, not until after when you realised half the baubles were missing off your sweater.”

Stella snorted “My mom asked me what happened to it when we got back to yours. And your dad said…”

“Divine intervention!” they both spoke at the same time, laughing, only to be interrupted as Pooch walked into the office.

“Amen! What are you two up to?”

Stella wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes and looked round at him. “We were just looking at some photos and reminiscing.”

“Some photos?” Pooch asked as he approached Jensen’s desk. Jake turned the laptop for him to see and Pooch bent closer before he shook his head.

“Jensen, what the fuck are you wearing man?”

“Question should be who the fuck was I wearing Pooch.”

“Or why?” Pooch shot back and Jensen shrugged.

“It’s a Jensen-Stevenson family tradition buddy.” He leaned back in his chair, scratching his chest over his uniform. “Every year we have a dinner and a Secret Santa. Well, we used to anyway before...” at that he sat forward and cleared his throat, noticing Stella look away as he did so. He quickly recovered himself and smiled up at Pooch “Rule was the worst sweater won an extra prize.”

“Well you nailed it Jensen because frankly that is the ugliest sweater I have ever seen."

“You’re going to hell for saying that.” Jensen pointed at him.

“Yeah and we'll see him there after what poor Jesus saw that afternoon.” Stella snorted. Jensen smirked asas Pooch looked between them slightly confused.

“What do you...” he trailed off, groaning as he suddenly understood and then scoffed as they both started laughing again. “You guys are...were...” he pulled a face, “oh that’s nasty.”

“What’s nasty?” another voice spoke and all three of them turned to see Evan in the doorway. Jake shut his laptop violently, in a display of petulance more than anything. He was damned if he was letting that fucker into their private joke. Evan arched his eyebrow slightly before his attention turned to Stella as she explained.

“Oh we just found some old photos of us in horrific Christmas sweaters.”

“Found? On his laptop? By chance?” Evan’s tone was slightly accusing and Stella shrugged, missing the glare he shot at Jake.

“We were looking for something else and got side tracked.” Stella waved her hand “Anyway, what are you doing here? I thought you were in briefings till late?”

“I was but we finished earlier than expected and thought I could pick you up and maybe grab dinner at mine? I’ll cook.”

“Erm, sure.” Stella smiled “Sounds good.”

Pooch and Jensen exchanged a glance and Jensen merely rolled his eyes. Here she was again, backing out of a pre-arrange Losers social. But Jensen knew better than to raise that fact, certainly not in front of Evan.

As it happened though, Pooch didn’t.

“You not coming to the poker game then?” he asked and Stella blinked before she gave a groan.

“Shit. I forgot, erm…” she looked at Evan. “Roque’s organised a game.”

“Oh, okay.” Evan shrugged “I just thought we could spend the evening together. You never said anything about a poker game, Pumpkin, I wouldn’t have asked if I’d have known.”

At that Jensen rolled his eyes. The smell of bullshit was overwhelming.

“I must have forgotten.” Stella shrugged.

“Arty, you ain't been out with us for weeks.” Pooch pressed “Every time we organise something you’re busy. We got stag do planning to do!”

At that Jensen really did grimace given their earlier conversation. This wasn’t going to be pretty.

“I thought you weren't going to New York?” Evan spoke, his voice calm but Jensen spotted the nerve twitching in his jaw.

“What?” Pooch tuned to Stella and she groaned.

“Sorry.” Evan looked from her to Pooch, an innocent expression on his face and Jensen gripped the side of the desk firmly to stop himself doing something stupid. Like punching the fucker in the face “Did I put my foot in it?”

“What do you mean you're not coming?” Pooch completely ignored Evan, his eyes fixed on Stella as he waited for her to answer. She floundered for a moment, and Jensen sighed. He was torn, he felt sorry for Stella but on the other hand he really wanted Pooch to call her out and perhaps finally see what he had been saying for weeks- that Evan was a manipulative little shit.

“I haven't decided.” Stella shrugged, her voice quiet “I don't know what I'm doing.”

“You haven’t decided? What’s there to decide?” Pooch continued “You said you were coming Arty, I was counting you in”

“I know. I'm sorry, I just-“

“This is my fault.” Evan jumped in. “I'm busy for the week after helping my Aunt move house and I suggested we do something that weekend as we won't see each other. I booked us a hotel in Boston.”

“You did?” Stella frowned and Evan nodded before he took a deep breath and shook his head.

“I didn't know the dates clashed.”

“Sure you didn’t.” Jake mumbled to himself, turning back to the monitor which now showed nothing but the screensaver which was a picture of him, Stella and Gracie at her soccer game they had attended back home last year. Still, he pretended to be busy as Pooch and Evan stared at one another before Pooch shrugged, taking a deep breath.

“Whatever man.”

“I’m sorry Pooch I…” Stella started again and Pooch cut her off.

“No Arty, I’m the one who’s sorry.” His usually jovial tone was cold and Jensen saw Stella’s shoulders slump in the corner of his eye and wanted nothing more than to give her a hug.

“I think I’m gonna skip poker tonight.” She spoke softly and Jensen’s head whipped round to face her full on.

“What?”

“I’ll let Roque know you’re dropping out.” Pooch cut in.

“Are you sure, sweetheart?” Evan looked at her “I don't mind if you wanna go, we can do something tomorrow instead.”

This time Jake’s scoff was loud enough for all three of them to hear and Evan turned to glare at him. Jensen held his stare, his hands clenching into fists under the table. He was just about ready to explode.

“Yeah, I’m sure. It’s fine.” Stella stood up “I’ll see you both later.”

With that she grabbed her jacket and left the room, Evan behind her, his hand planted in the small of her back. Pooch and Jake exchanged a glance, watching her go before Pooch crossed the room and closed the door, turning to Jensen.

“Dude. She’s not coming on my bachelor party? What the fuck?”

“I told you the guy is a manipulative bastard.” Jensen grit through his teeth. “She told me earlier she didn’t know if she could make it as he wanted to spend the weekend with her. He’s doing it deliberately to keep her away from me, or us, whatever.” He sighed, “And I’d bet my last dollar that, despite what she says, she’s offhandedly mentioned something about poker tonight and he’s shown up here now, on purpose, to guilt trip her into not going.” His fingers traced his goatee. “I don’t know what to do, Pooch.

“I tell you what I do know.” Pooch looked at Jensen. “We need to get rid of him. He has got to go, man!”

Jensen blinked, and then a broad grin spread across his face as Pooch’s words registered. Finally, he had an accomplice, someone else who had seen Shithead for what he was.

A shithead.

“Welcome aboard, Pooch.” Jensen leaned back in his chair, arms folded behind his head “Welcome aboard.”

**** Chapter 7 Part 1

#too loose and you'll lose it #jake jensen x ofc #jake jensen x original female character #jake jensen #ssholidaychallenge #the losers

85 notes · View notes

beyondconfessor · 4 years ago

Text

Principle Decisions [7/24]

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Lilith/Zelda Spellman

Summary: She had engaged in dominatrix services from Sabrina’s principal. It was enough to make her light-headed.

N.B.: Also posted on AO3. This is pure fantasy, please suspend your disbelief. Chapter ends angsty with mentions of self-harm (nothing explicit or overt, just a Lilith advising Zelda that she was pushing her limits to hurt her self)

Zelda chewed on her thumbnail, looking across the expanse of lingerie she owned. She was suddenly finding herself indecisive over what set to wear––something she usually wasn’t.

Usually, she’d go for the ivory and black set (a favourite), but Lilith had seen that. There was a ruby set, but Zelda wasn’t sure she liked how it went with her hair. Maybe the emerald, she wondered, or the black (also a favourite).

She sighed, standing in her dressing robe. She never fussed this much when dating any man, outside of the occasional birthday. It’d been some time since she was nervous over the idea of what to wear, which only further set her in a state of unease. Was it because Lilith initiated her enough that she felt a need to impress the woman, or was it something deeper?

Was she perhaps so lonely, that she’d projected a romantic fantasy onto the woman? It wasn’t unheard of.

But that didn’t solve her current issue: the choice between lingerie.

It was hardly as if she had anyone else’s opinion to ask. She’d never been one to have close female friends. She had a group of girlfriends in school, a long time ago, but she wouldn’t ever refer to that as being close friends. There’d been far too much backstabbing and bitching of one another to be anything but rivals masking as friends.

Perhaps that said something about her more than she liked. The closest person she could refer to as a friend was Constance Blackwood, and that was only because Constance had once advised, while drunk at a mixer, that everyone was a bunch of cowardly bitches and Zelda was the only person she trusted to tell the truth.

But she couldn’t contact her about this.

Sighing, she drew away, grabbing at the ivory set. It was an old favourite and would just have to do for now. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t already had sex with the woman (though both times had been impromptu) and Lilith had seen her in lingerie before. So what did it matter what she wore? She was showered and clean, and in the end, it was all that mattered.

She switched for the emerald.

And then she dressed in a simple black dress, smoothing the arms down. The dress was simple, casual, and acted as a disguise for her as she came down the stairs.

“Ohh, you look nice,” Hilda said. “Off to somewhere?”

Zelda looked at the time. It was still early in the morning at least. “The office, my laptop is in the computer shop, and I have work I need to get done by Monday.” Not entirely false. She did plan on going to the school’s library afterwards.

Hilda seemed to frown at her but didn’t say anything. “Well, I’ll be off to Doctor Cee’s, did you want me to drop you off.”

Zelda paused. There was no way in hell she’d allow that. “There’s no need. I’ll be at University for some time.”

“Are you sure, I finish at four, I could pick you up again?”

Zelda pressed her lips shut. “Quite,” she said. “What time are you leaving?”

“Oh, well Doctor Cee’s opening so I’ll probably wander off in about fifteen minutes.”

Zelda nodded. She’d leave a little later; otherwise, Hilda was likely to see her going the opposite way to the University, and she honestly didn’t need that. Besides, she usually ended up fifteen minutes early.

Zelda realised her mistake too late when she realised that Saturday mornings were quite busy with the weekend markets, causing the streets to be busy with pedestrians, leading to arrive on the other side of town late.

Dreadfully late.

She was an entire ten minutes late. Tardy by all accounts, and when she rang the doorbell, Lilith opened it up with raised brow. “I believe I warned you that I don’t appreciate late clients,” she said, blocking the door.

“Believe me. It was not by choice. I had forgotten about the Saturday mid-morning traffic. I don’t usually drive to this end of town, as you can imagine. Or to town at all on the weekend.”

Lilith’s eyebrows rose, “Perhaps I should buy you a GPS, and then you can listen to its advice on traffic? Or perhaps I should have you read the clock face on the wall until I’m satisfied that you can tell the time?”

Zelda flushed. “It won’t happen again.”

“Mm, odds are now in the favour that it will occur again,” Lilith said, before pushing away from the door to allow her entrance. “But you can make it up to me. Get inside before someone sees you, Ms Spellman.”

Zelda shivered, stepping into the hallway. Though she expected Lilith to lead her up to the bedroom, the woman instead led her down the hall, past the kitchen, to the garden.

Zelda swallowed. The garden was outside, and it was a Saturday. Having parked her car, she was aware that the businesses on either side of the building were open. The streets were not busy by any stretch of the definition, but the garage door had been open, and the mattress store had its lights on.

She trusted that they weren’t aware of what Lilith’s business was, given that it was unmarked, but felt nervous nonetheless as Lilith opened the door to the patio, leading her outside.

“Yesterday, I admit I was deliciously surprised by the reaction you had,” Lilith said, as she continued to lead her from the concrete to the stone path leading underneath the great tree. “And I have the strangest suspicion that you are an exhibitionist.”

“Exhibitionist?” Zelda said. “I hardly think so.”

“Mm, and if I fucked out here with the sound of the mechanics working on cars, you wouldn’t get off on the idea that you had to keep quiet?”

Zelda flushed. She could hear the sounds of hammering on metal, the odd chatter and laughter from the garage.

“I bet if I even just told you to get undressed right now, you’d be in a quivering mess at the idea of kneeling on the grass, naked as people were next door going about their lives.”

Zelda shut her eyes, looking away. Admittedly, she could see the point that Lilith was getting at. There was every possibility that, perhaps, she wasn’t entirely against the idea of outdoor sex. “Isn’t exhibitionism the idea of being watched?”

Lilith shrugged. “For some people. For some, it’s just thrill that they might get caught.” Lilith’s hands were slipping over her waist, and suddenly Zelda was finding herself back up against the great tree. “If you’re very, very quiet, no one will know. But if you’re loud, and I know you’re loud, the man will go out of their way to peak over that great big fence and see what’s going on and we don’t want that, now do we?”

Zelda looked to the fence line. It was rather tall, difficult to see over. They’d have to get a stepladder to do it. Which given that they’re a mechanic, was not entirely impossible for them. Likely they had one lying about or boxes, or some sort of implement they could use to peak over if they were curious enough.

“Do you think you can be quiet?” Lilith enquired, and her hands were already tugging up the skirt of her dress, fingers raking over her bare skin. “Or will I have to gag you?”

Zelda scoffed. “I can be quiet,” she assured. “I do live in a house with three other people.”

Lilith drew over her skin, playing with the lace on her hips as she leant forward and pressed a kiss to her lips. Zelda sighed into her mouth, drawing her lips over hers as she wrapped her arms around Lilith’s shoulders.

There was something about the way that Lilith kissed. A tenderness in how she first started, drawing over her, before she would deepen the kiss, drawing more and more passion into it until it was teeth and tongue and Zelda felt as if she was drowning in rapturous delight.

And then Lilith’s mouth was drawing down her neck and shoulders, kissing there as she unzipped the dress and shoved it down her arms, leaving it to bunch around her waist as she moved to draw her mouth over her shoulders, her clavicle, down over her breasts peaking from teal lace and silk.

Lilith drew the straps of the bra down her shoulders, allowing the cups to slip down over her ribs, exposing her breasts.

“Give me your hands,” Lilith said, before kissing her again so dizzily, that Zelda forgot to ask why.

She dropped her hands from Lilith’s shoulders and felt the woman slip what felt like a leather cuff over one hand and then the other. And then Lilith was pulling back and drawing Zelda’s cuffed arms up into the air, over a branch.

Looking up, Zelda watched as the woman attached a double-ended snap hook on a metal clap on either cuff, over the top of a rather sturdy branch, leaving Zelda to stand awkwardly with her arms in the air.

“Much better,” Lilith said, raking her eyes over Zelda.

And then Lilith’s mouth was descending again.

Zelda’s hands grasped at the branches, trying to hold onto something as her legs became unsteady. It was divine and sinful at the same time. She could hear the sound of drilling, of hammering, of men talking and laughing to each other and as she became more and more aware of them, she felt a tightness tugging low in her belly, a need to gasp and swallow back the building sounds.

It was different to when she had brought long-term partners home or had masturbated in the depths of her sheets. Here, there was an absolute desire to want to get caught. To have the men intrigued, trying to peak over the fences and see nothing, knowing that something was going on.

Zelda whined low, biting her lip to prevent it from escaping as Lilith laughed, her tongue and teeth working on once breast as her hand worked the other.

“I once made someone orgasm from this alone.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Zelda responded breathlessly, eyes squeezing shut as she leant back against the tree.

“Usually, you argue with me. And here I was, all ready to prove my point,” Lilith said before dropping her mouth again against the nipple, teeth drawing over as she did something with her mouth that caused a sudden spike of desire to shoot straight through to Zelda’s core.

“God! Lilith I…” she rocked her hips, a whine pulling from the back of her throat. She wanted more. She was so close already she could feel her legs trembling.

Lilith pulled back, eyes staring up at her and Zelda clamped her jaw shut, trying to stand strong. “You will need to be careful,” Lilith warned. “If you can’t be quiet, I might have to find something else to do with you.”

Zelda swallowed and nodded, head rolling back to look up at the tree and the dappled light. She felt a hand squeeze over one breast and then felt Lilith tug at the bunched dress, dropping it down her legs to spill around her feet.

“If you’re quiet, I’ll give you a reward later.”

Her head dropped down, eyebrows rising “What kind of reward?”

“Be good, and I’ll let you know,” Lilith said, as her fingers played with her breast and nipple, squeezing with enough pressure that Zelda bit her lip, holding back the whimpers. “Can you be good for me?”

“Mmhmm,” Zelda managed to say, under certain in how the woman knew how to do what she did.

“Good,” Lilith said, and then her mouth was kissing down, between her chest, over her ribs, and down and Zelda was pressing her hands back against the tree, listening to the sound of mechanical work and idle chatter fill her as Lilith reached the scrap of emerald between her thighs.

She expected it to be pulled down or pushed to the side, or whatever, but Lilith’s tongue drew over it prominently as she drew a hand down Zelda’s waist, nails dragging over the skin, across the hip to thigh and then she was tugging at the back of Zelda’s leg, bending the knee until Zelda had a leg thrown over Lilith’s shoulder.

Her shoe fell off onto the ground, and Zelda didn’t care. Didn’t care if it got muddied or grass stains, not when Lilith was doing whatever that was.

Grasping at the bough of the tree, Zelda pressed her back against bark, feeling it scrape over her body as she rocked her hips over Lilith’s tongue.

If Lilith wasn’t careful, she was going to make her climax in her underwear, likely ruining them.

Who was she kidding? She could feel how wet she was already; it was slick and sticking, sliding with every movement. Her underwear was ruined already.

What she really wanted was the woman’s fingers inside of her, fucking her like she had yesterday.

Zelda bit her lip and made the terrible decision to look down just as Lilith looked up. Her eyes were bright, a smirking pulling at her lips as her tongue slid over, firmly pressing as her hand continued to squeeze and pinch.

It wasn’t enough sensation, and as Zelda’s hips jerked, her bare heel digging into Lilith’s back, she felt a string of curse words leave her mouth. There was a brief sound of mechanics stopping, laughter dying with a curious lilt of conversation as the men needed to pause in their work.

And then Lilith's fingers were tugging the underwear aside, and her tongue was sliding over her sex, and two fingers were pressing inside of her, and Zelda knew she needed to keep quiet. She knew she couldn’t say another word.

Tilting her head into her bound arms, she tried to muffle the moans spilling from her. And then, like relief, the orgasm came, and she was whining into the flesh of her bicep, focusing on the way that she was squeezing around Lilith’s fingers…until they slipped away and Lilith’s tongue gave a last lick.

Zelda drew in a breath, eyes going skyward to focus on the sun before she dropped down to look at the smirking woman as Lilith slowly eased Zelda’s foot onto the ground. And then she was rising, her hands holding Zelda steady as she kissed her.

Tenderly, softly her lips moved over hers, and Zelda felt herself quiver with the touch. An ache building in her chest.

“Look at you, you almost managed it,” Lilith said.

“Almost?”

“Oh yes, you were rather noisy just before the end. A passing grade, I suppose.”

“Passing grade,” Zelda nearly yelped, eyes narrowing. “What in God’s name does that even mean.”

Lilith hummed, her hands drawing circles over Zelda’s torso. “It means that you’re all mine, and I get to inflict all sorts of punishments to you.” Her hand came up, cupping under Zelda’s jawline, her thumb stroking over her cheek. “Don’t worry. I promise that you won't enjoy this as much as I will.”

Zelda shivered, standing up as tall as she could as she adjusted her grip on the tree. There was nothing she wanted more than to touch Lilith right now. Stroke her hands over her skin and run it through her hair. The most she could do without looking to wanton was lean back against the tree and hoped she looked as seductive as possible.

Lilith’s eyes darkened, a slow breath pulling into her lungs, and Zelda knew she had her for the moment. That if she said the right words, she could do the very same things to Lilith that she’d done to her.

And right now, the idea of tying Lilith up and going down on her until she was pleading, was exactly what she had in mind.

Lilith laughed, looking away. “Oh, I don’t think so,” she said. “Whatever naughty thought you have in your head if you want our roles to reverse, you’re going to have to ask me very, very nicely.”

Zelda considered asking to be untied, to act as the dominant one in this situation, but it defeated the purpose. She didn’t want to ask. She just wanted.

“Now be a good girl and wait here for me,” Lilith said, her hand dropping away. Zelda watched as she stepped back, and then made her way down the stone path, back to the house. It left Zelda tied up, her bra still around her waist, underwear sitting uncomfortably to one side, and her hands bound above her in the tree.

Zelda shivered as a breeze brushed through the garden, making her all the more aware of her undressed state, even with the warm light coming through the trees.

She ended up kicking off her other heel, uncomfortable wearing just one shoe, and standing on the balls of her feet, leaning back against the tree as Lilith finally returned with items in tow.

“Don’t you look good enough to eat,” Lilith proclaimed, setting her tools aside. Zelda eyed them with interest before Lilith’s brow rose, and she used her frame to block the view of whatever was brought out. “No peeking,” she said, before bending back over her assortment, seeming to hum to herself as she chose between them.

Zelda pushed on her feet, already growing tired of waiting, before Lilith picked something up and turned around, holding whatever it was behind her back.

She tucked it in the back of her skirt and then walked up, hands drawing over Zelda’s body, her nails raking over her hips to the dip in her waist, and then up.

“I’m going to turn you around, and then I’m going to mark your back, and you’re going to take it like a good girl because you were late. Do you know how many minutes you were late?”

“Ten.”

“Fifteen,” Lilith correct. “You should have arrived at least five minutes before your allocated session.”

Zelda nodded, feeling the haze of endorphins slip over her still as Lilith reached up and unbound her before having her turn around and binding her up again.

The woman pressed against her back, and Zelda sighed as she felt how warm she was. “Do you remember your safe word?”

“Music box,” Zelda confirmed.

Lilith’s hand combed through her head, nails bluntly rolling over her scalp and Zelda sighed into the touch. Sometimes it felt like Lilith was conditioning her, that when she combed her fingers, it was a reminder that she was safe. And then Lilith pressed a brief kiss to her back, and Zelda sighed at the touch.

If it was the case, she didn’t mind a single bit.

“Let’s begin then, shall we?”

The flogging session drew over her back, and Zelda felt the mixture of endorphins acting as a somewhat effective numbing agent. Lilith’s strikes were strong and firm, and Zelda felt the leather strike down her skin and around her breasts. When the nipples were hit on the very edge, she hissed, pushing up on her toes. She’d taken eight strikes so far––halfway there.

Lilith paused, stepped forward to press her kiss down her back, unclasping the bra to it drop away.

Zelda exhaled, her heart beating fast as she felt the woman’s hands hold her steady. Her skin felt hot, and the cool hand drew over her, soothing. Zelda could feel her nerves running raw, building pressure in her chest. If she pushed too far, she was going to cry again.

But if she was honest…a part of her wanted to.

Work had built to new capacities of stressful, and there was so much she needed to do––with her computer out of action, she was doubling her work.

She would never allow herself to break in front of her family. But Lilith wasn’t family.

The strikes came again, and Zelda gripped at the bough of the tree, holding onto it firm as she felt one, after another. The sound was loud and sharp. There was a different feeling of the strikes than it had been in the office and the bedroom.

By the twelfth strike, she was biting her lip, feeling the emotions build inside of her, and suddenly she was in doubt that she did want to break. The sex had been wonderful, and the bondage was soothing, but this…she wasn’t sure she liked this.

Thirteen, Zelda gasped. It hit hard over her shoulder, ringing through her body. There was a masochistic want growing inside of her, a need for the strikes to be harder. She wanted it to hurt. She wanted them to burn across her back and mark her skin. She deserved it. Need it.

Fourteen. Zelda’s nails dug into the palm of her hand. One more, one more was all she had to stand and then it was all hers.

Her eyes were pricking as she stared at the tree, studying the grooves, and then Zelda could feel her mind receding away. She could feel the sting against her back, hear the sound of weapon, but all she could think about was––

A hand touched her and Zelda flinched, feeling anger grow inside of her as she turned over her shoulder to look at…

…at Lilith.

Her arms were undone, and she was falling against the woman, and Lilith was pulling her back to stand up again, eyes searching over her. “Where did you go?” she asked, and there was a firmness to her voice. She was displeased with her.

Zelda felt that harder than any strike and pulled herself backwards, onto her feet as she leant against the tree and crossed her arms, covering her chest up. “Unless I suddenly developed the ability to teleport, I didn’t go anywhere.”

Lilith’s eyes narrowed at her. She picked up Zelda’s clothes and then made a gesture to her head to get inside. This wasn’t the place to discuss.

Zelda followed her into the house, the door shutting behind her as she was lead to the kitchen. On the wall, Zelda could see they still had another hour of the session left.

But Lilith didn’t move to make tea. Instead, she directed Zelda to sit down in one chair, as she sat across from her, setting the clothes carefully to the side of the table. “I’m going to ask you a question, and I need you to answer me honestly.”

Zelda looked up at her feeling a curtain of red hair cover half of face. Jaw clenching, she nodded.

“Are you using these sessions as a way to punish yourself?”

“As opposed to what?” Zelda inquired. “Aren’t these sessions meant for punishment?”

“Let me re-phrase the question then,” Lilith said, unimpressed by her response. “Are you using me as a proxy to self-harm?”

Zelda stared at her. Perhaps once upon a time, long ago, she’d been partial to such a thing, but that had been years and years ago. So far ago now that she could barely recall. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, but the venom wasn’t in her voice, and Zelda found herself looking away, feeling the words claw at her.

Lilith’s hands reached out, covering her own and Zelda looked up, swallowing a painful lump in her throat. “You need to be upfront with me about this.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head, and then “Not at first…”

“But today?”

“Today I…” she didn’t know how to admit it, that a part of her had sunk into the scene, needed to feel the hits hurt and sting, past her limits. Well past her limits. She should have stopped at the twelfth hit.

Zelda drew her hands away from Lilith, pulling them into her lap. She bit her tongue, trying to shove the rising emotions back down her throat.

Lilith sighed before her, her own hands dropping away. “This is as much my fault. I should have checked in with you sooner. But I can not and will not be that proxy for you. We can engage in sex, and we can engage in BDSM if it’s truly a sexual exploration or kink that you enjoy, but I will not hit you just because you want to scratch at your trauma.”

“Trauma?” Zelda yelped. “This is not an ill-attempt to hurt me for the sake of trauma.”

“Are you so sure? Because I think you came here because you wanted to feel something, and instead of hurting yourself or using drugs, you came to me.” Her head tilted at her, and Zelda felt as if she was cutting through every barrier Zelda had. “You’re drowning, and I will not participate in that destruction.”

Zelda scoffed, looking away. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“No, but I know people like you. Burying themselves in work and family obligations, burning themselves out until they can’t feel anything, getting off on a well-placed pat on the head. You don’t need a dominatrix. You need a therapist.” She stood up then, and Zelda watched as she went into one of the many cupboards, pulling out a card before she came over and handed it to her.

Zelda looked at the card. It was white and blue, simple, with a little embossed ocean wave in the corner. “You’re giving me the card of a therapist.”

Lilith nodded. “Get help before you destroy yourself. Believe me, I’ve been down this path, and you won’t find salvation at the end of it. You’ll just sink further and further until you’re letting men do things to you that you’d previously never allow.”

Zelda took the card, her expression tightening. “It wasn’t just about that.”

Lilith’s face softened as she sat back down. “I enjoy engaging in your services, Zelda. But I also have a duty of care to you and myself.”

Zelda bit her tongue, pulling her hands away. She didn’t like the way the woman was looking at her. She didn’t like how she’d peeled back her skin and peered underneath, seeming to touch at the core of Zelda that she, herself didn’t want to acknowledge.

How dare she? She didn’t come here to seek counselling services. She asked for a simple transaction of labour, and now that was being refused.

“Well,” she clipped. “I suppose a thank you is in order.” She rose to her feet, suddenly feeling far more naked than she liked as she snatched at the clothes on the table and began pulling them on. “And, I suppose that’s the end of it, then?” she inquired.

“You don’t have to pay for this session. And don't leave, you should––”

“No, I insist. We engaged in services, and you were apart of them,” Zelda said, hearing the coldness in her voice. “It’s only fair that I pay you what services were rendered. Don't bother about anything else, I hardly need any alleged aftercare since, apparently, I'm only engaging in this as some sick attempt to hurt myself.”

Lilith’s face drew tight, her lips pressing shut as she seemed to bite back a comment. Zelda thought about pushing at it, prodding at the words beneath the surface, but knew it wasn’t worth burning any more fuel onto whatever fire had grown inside of her.

Instead, Zelda zipped up her dress as Lilith took out her receipt book, signing the paper over. Zelda reached into her handbag and pulled out her wallet, handed the cash over.

That was the end of that, she thought, fixing her hair. Like Hell, she would attend a therapist. She’d sooner return to attending confession at the local catholic church.

#zelda spellman #lilith #zelith #madam spellman #caos fanfic

24 notes · View notes

mldrgrl · 5 years ago

Text

Safety in Numbers

by: mldrgrl Rating: R Summary: The Hanella in quarantine fic some of you have been waiting so patiently for.

It happens so quickly and it’s shocking, even if she suspected it might happen. Overnight, everything just stops. An emergency conference call is held and just like that, she’s teaching in a virtual classroom and toilet paper is suddenly one of her biggest concerns. And the nightmares come, stealing her sleep and leaving her restless. It’s only been a week.

Unable to sit still to give a lecture, she creates a station for herself on the butcher’s block in the kitchen area. If her students only knew the things that had happened on that butcher’s block, but she could say that about nearly every wall and surface of the loft. They’d probably never imagine she was capable, not in a million years. She’s heard stories of other classrooms turning this new landscape they were in into entertainment - wearing silly hats, creating silly backgrounds on their screens, wearing pajamas - but not her. She makes it clear from day one, criminology is a serious study and they are to treat it as such.

She’s just ended a discourse on crime scene containment when Hank emerges from the bedroom. He hasn’t showered or shaved yet, even though it’s noon and she knows he’s been up writing since before she began her lecture. His eyes are squinted and his lip is curled up as though he’s just eaten something distasteful.

“What timing,” Stella says, closing the lid of her laptop.

“Yeah, I…” Hank pauses and rubs the back of his head so that his hair spikes up. “Uh…”

“Something the matter, Watson?”

“Karen just called me.”

Stella is immediately awash with concern. “Everything alright? Is someone ill?”

“I don’t know. She wants you to call her. Said she would’ve actually called you herself, but she wasn’t sure of your teaching schedule and didn’t want to interrupt.”

“I’ll ring her now. Any idea what it’s about?”

“None. She assured me no one was dying, but that it was important. I’ve been climbing the walls in the room waiting until your class was over.”

“Well, you were quite prompt.” Stella crosses the room to the coffee table where her mobile is charging. She unplugs it and unlocks the screen. She pulls up Karen’s contact card and initiates the call.

“Oh good,” Karen answers immediately. “Hank told you I called.”

“Yes, he’s pacing the room like a caged animal. Do you mind if I put you on speaker?”

“Please, I want to run something by the both of you, actually.”

“Alright.” Stella sits down on the sectional sofa and puts the call on speaker. She holds the phone in her palm and points it towards Hank who’s biting his thumbnail and shuffling back and forth along the other side of the coffee table.

“I’ve been trying to get Becca to come up here once this whole quarantining, shelter-in-place thing started happening.”

“We tried as well,” Stella says.

“I know. And I totally get that she’s an adult and has her own life and all that, but she finally agreed this morning.”

“That’s wonderful.” Stella glances up at Hank. “It’s been a concern for us.”

“Well, what I was thinking is that you guys should come up too.”

“Us?”

“What do you mean?” Hank asks.

“I mean, you should come stay in the guest house.”

“That’s a very generous offer-” Stella starts, but she’s interrupted.

“I’m worried about the two of you as much as Becca,” Karen says. “Have you been outside at all? Can you even go outside?”

“Not since Hank’s birthday, actually.”

“See. You guys can be here and Becca will be here and then we won’t have to worry about you. Stella, Fish said he’ll set you up in his office for your classes. He’s turning the garage into a studio anyway and isn’t even using it.”

There was muffled shouting in the background.

“And he says the barbeque is ready,” Karen adds. Hank rolls his eyes in response.

“I think it’s something we’d need to discuss,” Stella says. “This isn’t likely to last just days or weeks. We’re looking at months. It’s possible travel even between states could be restricted.”

“Exactly,” Karen says. “That’s even more reason why you should come. If it gets that bad, you may not be able to get here.”

When, Stella thinks. Not if.

“When are you picking Becca up?” Hank asks.

“Saturday. Probably mid-morning. We can just pop over after that and grab you two before heading back.”

“You’ve certainly given us something to consider,” Stella says. “We’ll have a chat about it and get back with you.”

“I just really think you guys should be with family, you know?”

It’s that statement that tightens Stella’s chest. She’s been without a proverbial family for most of her life and still lacks experience with feeling accountable to another person, let alone others. But, she does feel accountable now and though she’d like to write Karen’s offer off as being a polite, albeit meaningless request, she knows it’s not.

They have a few more minutes of lighter conversation and then they hang up with Stella promising they’ll seriously consider Karen’s offer and get back with her. There’s a few moments of silence after Stella disconnects the call and she watches Hank. He’d slumped down on the sofa before they’d hung up and began chewing the inside of his cheek and staring out the window.

“Thoughts?” Stella asks.

“I don’t even know what to fucking think right now.”

“Are you inclined to say no?”

“Are you inclined to say yes?”

“I’m not inclined to say anything until we discuss it.”

“You didn’t think it was weird?”

“No more strange than being invited for weekends, really. And we’ve certainly done that.”

“So you want to go?”

“I’m merely positing that I don’t believe it was a strange or disingenuous offer.”

“I wonder how she wore Becca down.”

Stella shrugs and then slumps back beside Hank. “I’m glad she’s going. It’s a better place for her to be instead of cooped up in her flat all alone. Or here, really, where privacy would be limited.”

“And what if something does happen, like Karen said? How would we get there.”

“That may not be an option.”

Just as Stella drops a gentle hand on Hank’s knee, he jumps up from the couch and begins to pace again. She folds her hands over her lap to give him the time he clearly needs to put together his thoughts.

“I can’t fucking believe I’m living in a world where I have to consider moving in with my ex and the guy she’s shacking up with.”

“And your wife.”

“I mean ‘I’ like the royal ‘we.’ There is no ‘I,’ there’s only we. Us. Whatever. You know what I fucking mean.”

“So then we’ll not consider it. It sounds as though you’ve made up your mind about it already anyway.”

“Feel free to chime in with your thoughts at any time.” He puts his hands together as if in prayer and bows towards her slightly. “This feels like a rather one-sided discussion.”

“I could think of dozens of reasons to stay, but weigh that against one very good reason to go and, well...”

“Becca?” Hank asks.

“I know what it’s meant to you growing closer to her since we’ve been back. It’s actually meant something to me as well. And, I think I have an idea of what it might be like for you to go from seeing her so often to not at all, with no idea when the next time may be.”

Hank puts his hands to his face and pulls his skin down as he rubs at his cheeks and forehead.

“What has your knickers all in a twist over this, Watson?” she asks. “It’s only an offer and we can respectfully decline.”

“I don’t know.” He shakes his head and drops his hands. “I just...Karen and I were together for a long time and we’ve been through a lot of shit together. I love her, but there are times...I suddenly remember how much I fucking resent her and the chain events she started. And I realize that might sound like...I mean, it doesn’t account for the actual contentment and happiness I have at this time in my life. I just can’t fucking forget sometimes. It’s easier to do that when we’re apart.”

Stella is not a coddler by nature. Offering comfort isn’t something that comes naturally or easy for her, but there are times when the inclination to soothe comes over her. She stands and takes the few steps necessary to reach Hank. First she takes him by the hips and then slides her hands up to his chest and then over his shoulders to link her fingers behind his neck.

“Are you thinking you’re sorry you married such a pussyass bitch?” Hank asks.

“Strange as it sounds, I was actually thinking about how much I love you,” she answers.

“Stop it, Sherlock, you’ll make me cry.”

She pinches his nape lightly. “Don’t be such a pussyass bitch.”

“And suddenly I’m very turned on.”

“You’re always turned on.”

“Pot. Kettle. Black.”

She shrugs. “I’m not going to give Karen an answer until tomorrow. I want you to think very hard about what you want to do because it’s not something we can change our minds on.”

“Do you want to go, Sherlock?”

“I told you, I can think of one very good reason to go and many reasons not to.”

“Yeah, that’s what you said, but I feel like that’s an ambiguous answer. Do you want to go?”

Stella loosens her fingers at Hank’s neck and let’s her hands slide back to his shoulders. She isn’t quite sure how to express the depth of the anxiety she feels about the situation to Hank or how hard she’s fought to suppress it. The pages of her dream journal are rapidly being filled though.

“I think,” she says. “For once, I might like to escape from danger instead of staring down the barrel at it.”

*****

They have one more discussion about Karen’s offer and though Hank still seems torn about what to do, he tells Stella he thinks they should go and asks if she’ll call Karen. Before she can even grab her phone, he goes up to the roof and so she places the call by herself. Karen is thrilled. Stella can feel her elation through the phone, if that’s possible.

“This is so great,” Karen says. “Bring whatever you need and even if you forget something, I’m sure we’ll have it. Or we can get it. You don’t have to worry about anything. You know, honestly, I expected to have to sell you guys even harder than I did Becca. I’m so relieved.”

“How did you manage to convince Becca to come up and stay? She seemed very adamant about remaining on her own when we spoke with her.”

“I think I opened her eyes a little to how isolated she might be. I also may have shamelessly reminded her that the pool was heated and all her meals and laundry would be taken care of, which was going to be my next tactic with you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. Well…” Stella hesitates for a moment. “Actually, I feel I should warn you that I’m rubbish in the kitchen. We always order out.”

Karen laughs. “Well, then you’re coming to the right place, honey. I love to cook, and it’s way more fun when it’s for more than two. Or three.”

“My fear is that you’ll tire of us. I don’t want to be an added burden in any way.”

“Hank, maybe. You, never.” Karen laughs again. “And, honestly, if Hank and I start to piss each other off, it never lasts long.”

“His fear is that the two of you might quarrel.”

“He does get on my last fucking nerve sometimes, but it’s been a really long time since we’ve sworn we’d hate each other for the rest of our lives. A lot has changed since then. For the better, obviously.”

“You sound quite certain.”

“The only thing I’m certain of is that if we haven’t killed each other by now, we probably won’t.”

“I do suppose the odds are favorable in that respect.”

“Listen, I want you guys here, I really do. Maybe I’m being silly or overreacting to this, but I think if we can be together during this, we should. I think we’ve talked about this a little before, but Hank and Becca, they just function better when they remain in each other’s orbit.”

“Yes, I agree.”

“So, I think this is really in the best interest of all of us to do this. I know what I’m like when I’m crazy worried about Becca and I know what Hank is like. But, then it’s you and Fish that have to suffer for it.”

“Well, I wouldn’t call it suffering.”

“But, you know what I mean.”

“I’ve never been a parent-”

“Bull shit, Stella.”

“Pardon?”

“That’s bull shit. You might have come around later in her life, but you’re a Mom to Becca. Don’t worry, I’m not one of those women who can’t deal with the idea of their kid having an extra parent. I only wish you would’ve been here sooner.”

Stella blinks, stunned into a sudden silence. Her throat tightens a little and her nose stings with the onset of tears, but she swallows them back and takes a calming breath.

“I was going to say that I’ve never been a parent, but having had Becca in my life for these past few years, I can understand the inclination to want to protect and prioritize one’s child.”

“I know you understand. That’s why we’re all so lucky to have you.”

“Thank you for that, I…” Stella stops and pinches away the burning sense of emotion between her brows. “I feel as though I’m the lucky one.”

“Let’s call it mutual.”

“We can do that.”

“And honestly, one of the selling points for getting Becca to come up was that I told her I’d have the two of you on board as well. You can’t make a liar of me.”

“No, I suppose we can’t.”

“Okay, so we’ll see you guys on Saturday. I’ll call when we’re leaving Becca’s. Everything will be perfectly fine, I promise.”

“Alright. We’ll see you soon.”

Stella hangs up the phone and then sits quietly for a few minutes before she goes up to the roof to find Hank. The sun has gone down and grey twilight has set in. Though it was an unusually warm day, it’s gone a bit chilly. She pulls her thin silk robe a little tighter and crosses her arms over each other for warmth. Hank is reclining in one of the lounge chairs, a glass of whiskey in his hand.

“Did you tell Karen the happy news?” he asks.

“I did. She was very pleased.”

“Mm.”

“I don’t think there will be anything to worry about.”

“No?”

“No.” Stella straddles Hank’s lap over the lounge chair and sits on his thighs. He puts one hand on her hip and takes a sip of his whiskey.

“The world is so fucking weird right now,” he says. “I don’t know how to comprehend it.”

“No one does, I’m sure.”

“Even you, Sherlock?”

“Even me.”

He tips his head back to look at her and brushes the hem of her robe aside to slide his hand up the outside of her thigh. They gaze at each other for a long while, he rubbing the top of her thigh and she plucking mindlessly at the black t-shirt covering his chest. Her robe slips down her shoulder a little and he reaches up as though he’s going to slide it back in place, but instead he caresses the back of her arm and pets the strap of her tank top with the back of his hand. Eventually, he sets his whiskey glass down on the little table next to the lounge and unties the knot holding her robe closed.

“Still fantasize about fucking on the roof?” he asks.

“It was never a fantasy, just a fleeting thought.”

“Is it crossing your mind right now?”

“It might be.”

“It’s definitely crossing mine.”

“I can tell.”

She reaches down to cup the rigid bulge straining the fly of his jeans. He grunts slightly and rubs the strip of skin showing below her navel with his thumb, between the loose edge of her tank top and lace edge of her panties. Her skin becomes rippled with gooseflesh. Within seconds, she’s swollen and pulses with arousal.

Deftly, Stella pushes the buttons free along the fly of Hank’s jeans, from top to bottom. He adjusts his hips as she brings him out into the closed heat of her fist. It doesn’t take but a few strokes and strategic swirls of her thumb to have him panting and groaning under her.

“Quiet,” she whispers, leaning close enough so she can flick her tongue out and catch his bottom lip.

“Make me,” he murmurs.

She strokes him a little harder and then stops to raise up onto her knees. Still gripping him tightly, she hooks her panties to the side and sinks down in one swift motion. If he misses any extended foreplay, he doesn’t show it. It’s a shut up and fuck me moment for her where all she wants and needs is his cock inside of her at just the right angle and she can handle the rest. And he knows her well enough by now to know when to lay back and enjoy the ride. She’ll make it up to him later by letting him fondle her in the shower, perhaps surprising him by requesting he wash her back, and then her front.

For the most part, Hank just holds onto the flare of Stella’s hips and lets her set the pace. She grips his shoulders and uses them for leverage to lift up, to arch her back, to roll her pelvis forward, and then to relax her thighs and do it all again. They both know, from time and experience, just how quick and effective this particular move is for both of them.

“So fucking good,” he purrs. He reaches up and grips Stella’s hair at the back of her head and pulls her down for a brief, but deep kiss. She sinks her teeth into his bottom lip before she pulls away. He licks the sting of it away.

When his little grunts of pleasure and encouragement grow too loud, she slaps her hand over his mouth and slips two fingers inside. He bites down lightly and slips his tongue along the seam between her fingers, and she burns just a little more painfully with desire for him.

“Come on,” she says, slipping her hand down from his shoulder to root out his nipple over his shirt. When she finds the taut little pebble, she gives it a tweak between her thumb and forefinger, grinding her pubic bone down against his as she does.

Hank gives a muffled cry from under her hand and his hips jerk up. The muscles in his neck strain when she does it again and his fingers dig roughly into her ass as he holds her in place. She squeezes him boneless and moves his hand out of the way as he tries to help bring her over the edge to do it herself. When the tension finally breaks and she splits apart with a terrible tremble, she gives a long moan of relief and then slowly brings herself down to rest against Hank’s chest. He puts his arms around her and his chin on her shoulder.

“You’re all that makes sense to me right now, Sherlock” he says.

She doesn’t answer, but she finds the spot on the left side of his chest where she can feel his heart beating and presses her lips to it.

******

Saturday afternoon, they’re packed and ready. Stella took the lead on preparation, experienced in planning for extended time away from home. Becca and Karen’s arrival is awkward as no one quite knows what the protocol is for both reuniting and remaining distant at the same time. They’ve talked about keeping cautious for the first week or so and keeping masks and gloves on for safety.

The ride up to Connecticut is gloomy. It’s drizzled off and on for a few days and today it finally culminates into a steady downpour. No one knows quite what to say, and even Hank, who normally can’t tolerate silence, doesn’t say much. When they arrive, they take their bags out to the guesthouse which has been transformed once again with a nautical theme. The last time they were there, at Christmas, it had a distinctly rustic flare.

“I’m seasick just looking at it,” Hank says, pulling his mask free from his ears. “I might vomit.”

“The accent wall is a lovely shade of blue.”

“Tell me again we made the right choice.”

“We made the right choice.”

“And this will all work out.”

“It’s going to work out.”

“I’m the best sex you’ve ever had, none can compare.”

“I’m the best sex you’ve ever had,” she parrots. “None can compare.”

“Smartass.”

“You walked right into that one.”

******

The first week feels endless and strange. Stella has to utilize the upstairs office in the main house for her lectures and they all gather for dinners outside on the patio, but conversation is stilted and there is tension in the air.

It’s quickly apparent that the situation has brought underlying anxieties to the surface. Stella’s strange dreams start to bring on episodes of sleep paralysis, something she hasn’t dealt with in some years. Hank also seems to cling to her more tightly and for longer periods of time when they go to bed. He doesn’t even try to initiate sex, prefering to hold her than fuck her. It would bother her, but she also discovers something about herself that gives her pause and makes her re-evaluate her stance on cuddling: when faced with the reality that she is now in the same room on a daily basis as the people she loves most in the world, but is simply not able to embrace them, the ache it brings puts the importance of touch into perspective. And if she’s feeling this way, she knows it’s exponentially worse for Hank.

Her birthday approaches and she asks Hank to please not mention it, to please make sure it comes and goes without acknowledgment. Aside from waking that morning with Hank’s face between her thighs and the double chocolate brownies that are served after dinner, it passes unnoticed. She’s grateful for that.

As the second week comes to a close, everyone seems to exhale and begin to relax. The turning point seems to come when Fish unexpectedly asks Hank to come and have a look at the studio he’s been working on. With Hank occupied, Stella asks Karen if she could help in the kitchen.

“You’ll have to instruct me on what to do,” Stella says. “And don’t assume I know the difference between dicing and chopping.”

“Lesson one,” Karen answers. “We start with a glass of wine.”

Thus begins the evening cooking lessons. Becca joins in when she discovers what they’re doing and the three of them spend those few hours a day drinking and laughing while also trying to give Stella a handle on the basics of simple meal preparation.

“What’s your favorite meal?” Karen asks Stella one evening. They’ve gathered around the kitchen island, making lists of recipes to try. Karen is looking everything up on her phone, elbows on the counter. “Something you love,” she adds. “But that you wouldn’t think you could make for yourself?”

“Oh, that’s a rather difficult question,” Stella answers, but gives it some thought, sipping her glass of wine. “It isn’t really a meal, but I do miss the Cornish pasties I used to get from time to time at a shop back in London.”

“Mmhm.” Karen taps Cornish pasties recipes into Google while Becca looks over her shoulder.

“They look like empanadas,” Becca says. “Wait, go back, there’s a vegetarian one too.”

“We could totally do these. Put skirt steak, leeks, and rutabaga on the list. We’ve got enough onions. And potatoes. Check to see if there are any carrots left.”

“How did you first learn to cook?” Stella asks.

“Oh, I don’t know, I was studying all the time and stuck at home with this one,” Karen answers, pointing her thumb back at Becca. “Hank would be at his typewriter and the noise of it would make me insane so I’d put some music on and look at recipes I’d torn out of pages from magazines. Not because I cared much about what it was, but because I liked the pictures of them.”

“You were trying to design food when you couldn’t design interiors.”

“Yeah, pretty much. And then I just decided to actually try some of them.”

“She makes the best spinach ravioli,” Becca says. “I went through a phase where I would only eat Italian food when I was little.”

“Must be because of the garlic,” Stella adds.

“I do love garlic.”

“I know, your dad told me the story of it once.”

“What story?”

“How you were ill one night as a toddler.”

“I don’t know this story.” Becca looks from Karen to Stella and then back to Karen again. “Mom?”

Karen looks slightly confused. “Yeah, I don’t...I’m not sure what story that is.”

“I’m not going to have all the finer details,” Stella starts, suddenly feeling rather embarrassed for having knowledge of an event that Karen and Becca seem unaware of. “Your dad was telling me once that he’d been genuinely terrified one night when you were a toddler and you’d had a rather high fever. A neighbor woman, someone in the building you lived in with many children, came up and used some oils on you, one of which had a strong odor of garlic.”

“Holy shit,” Karen says. “Yeah, that’s...yeah I do remember that. Kind of. Oh god, what was her name. Melanie, or something close to that. She used to call Becca ‘Pretty Baby’ all the time.”

“I don’t remember this lady,” Becca says.

“You were really little,” Karen says. “She also moved out of the building by the time you were two. But, yeah, she put all this oil on you and this little t-shirt and socks. It smelled terrible, but it did the trick. And holy fuck, did you smelled like garlic for a full week.”

“I wonder where she is now.”

“That was always the thing about New York. People were there one day and then they weren’t.”

This subdues the trio for a few moments. The current reality is that there are a lot of people who have been there one day and then not there the next, and not just in New York, but everywhere.

“And perhaps that’s why you love garlic,” Stella says softly, finally, breaking the silence that followed.

“Interesting.” Becca contemplates her glass of wine and drums her fingers against the kitchen counter for a few moments. “I have some writing to do.”

Karen leans forward and stretches her arms across the kitchen island after Becca leaves and covers one of Stella’s hands with both of hers. “I love that you know that story,” she says.

“It’s something we used to do back when we were still long-distance. Tell stories. Mostly Hank, though. I’m sure you’re aware that he has a need to fill any silence.”

“That’s an understatement.” Karen laughs.

“Indeed.”

“Oh god, can you imagine if this had happened while you were still doing long-distance? Or even when you guys were still in London.”

“No, I really can’t. It would be…” Stella can’t even think of a word that’s fitting. Difficult. Strange. Unfathomable. The thought of it actually makes her feel a bit anxious. Karen nods and squeezes her hand.

Fish and Hank suddenly emerge from the studio and stroll into the kitchen. Fish stands just behind Karen and squeezes her hips. Stella reaches out and takes Hank’s hand in hers and brings his arms around her.

“So, what do you ladies have up your sleeve for tonight?” Fish asks.

“Salads and a cold pasta tonight,” Karen answers. “We’re going to get experimental next week.”

“I like experiments. I’ll be whipping up some more marinade tonight for the steaks this weekend. Where’s Beckster?”

“She wanted to do some writing.”

“I can learn a thing or two about discipline from her,” Hank says. “That’s exactly what I need to be doing.”

“Go on,” Stella says, patting his arms. “I’ll let you know when dinner is ready.”

Hank kisses the side of Stella’s neck before he leaves. Karen starts to pull items out of the refrigerator as Fish comes up next to Stella and leans against the kitchen island.

“Your hubs been telling you about his guitar lessons?” Fish asks.

“You’ve been giving him lessons?”

“Refreshing what he already knows. He’s been helping me teach my group.”

“Has he?”

“He’s gonna duet with one of my kids for the concert comin’ up.”

“Are you still holding that?” Karen asks, lining up mixing bowls along the counter. “How can you?”

“We’re gonna Zoom it. That’s how they’re all doing their school now anyway.”

“That’s how I’m doing my lectures as well,” Stella says.

“Well, you ladies are of course invited. It’s on Saturday, in two weeks.”

“I’ll have to check my calendar,” Karen answers. “So many places to go right now. So many plans.”

“Hah!” Fish comes around to the other side of the island and pinches Karen on the side before giving her a bear hug from behind. “Funny lady.”

Later that night, after they’ve had dinner and Stella and Hank are lying in bed, she turns to face him and he plays with the strap of her tank top, running his finger over her shoulder to the top of her breast and back.

“I hear you’re playing in a concert in a few weeks,” she says.

“Yeah. The Trout roped me into that before I knew what was happening. He’s got me plucking out Blackbird with some 12-year-old. Supposed to be a confidence booster or something.”

“For you or the kid?”

“He didn’t specify.” Hank leans over and bites the top of Stella’s shoulder lightly and then rubs the spot with his thumb while he places kisses across her chest to her throat.

“Mm,” she answers.

“Actually,” he says, and pulls away. “I didn’t know this, but The Trout is like, a gazillionaire.”

“I presumed he was fairly wealthy from his family history.”

“Yeah, but no. He actually made a shit ton of money on investments after designing some landmark building and so he retired and now he doesn’t have to do anything and his money just makes more money.”

“Why did he retire though?”

“He didn’t like being an architect and just went with the flow of the family business, but he wanted to be a musician. So he quit and all the lessons he does now, he does it for free with this community program.”

“That’s lovely.”

“I know. When this whole shitshow started, he actually made sure all the kids he taught for had iPads so they could continue their lessons. And then because he wants them to still have their spring concert, he’s making sure all their extended families that were going to attend have iPads to watch it.”

“He has a generous soul.”

Hank flops onto his back and blows out a sigh. “And we’re just sitting here doing fucking nothing.”

“What we’re doing is equally important.”

“What are we doing?”

“Not going out and risking exposure. For ourselves and for others.”

“It feels like nothing. Just sitting, doing fuck-all.”

“What would you rather be doing?”

“I have no idea. I’m barely qualified to exist.”

Stella scoots closer to Hank and drapes her arm over his chest and her leg over his thigh. He tips his head towards hers and holds onto her wrist as he falls asleep.

*****

In the middle of the third week, Stella is taking attendance at the top of her lecture, as she always does. She makes note of a student’s absence and starts in on the chapter outline. At the end of class, she does another attendance check.

“Mr. Diaz, would you please indicate your presence if you’re at today’s lecture.”

A moment of silence passes and then another student’s window comes into her screen. “Hector tested positive, Professor,” the student tells her. “He’s in the hospital.”

In her years of training, Stella has conditioned herself to remain emotionally neutral in all varieties of situations. However, she is out of practice. She blinks once and then nods slightly, but feels her chin begin to wobble.

“Thank you for telling me,” she says, and pauses for a moment to keep her breathing steady. “Please be sure to complete the chapter exam prior to Friday’s lecture. We’ll be starting on new material next week.”

She signs out of her lecture platform to a chorus of ‘yes, Professor.’ After closing her laptop, she places her hands on the lid and breathes deeply. It’s just like the conversation they were having the other day. Someone is there one day, and gone the next.

When she comes downstairs, she finds Hank, Becca, and Fish in the sitting room, tuning guitars. They’re smiling and laughing about something. She turns to take the long way around to the side door so they don’t notice her, but runs into Karen in the front room, who asks her to form an opinion on some fabric samples. She obliges her and then excuses herself under the pretense of needing to review assignments.

Later in the evening, she musters the enthusiasm to assist Karen and Becca in preparing kebabs for Fish to grill, feigns engagement in the discussion about a Netflix documentary over dinner, helps with the nightly emptying and filling of the dishwasher, and begs off a dessert of sliced fruit to go to bed early. No one questions her, but she can see the concern on Hank’s face as he looks up at her and kisses the inside of her wrist as she’s leaving. Karen, too, seems to know that something is amiss, but doesn’t say anything.

Deep into the night, she’s not sure what time it is, but she wakes with Hank breathing hotly against her shoulder. The ceiling is shimmering with silver light and she has to rub her eyes to see clearly. She hears a noise, like the soft paddling of a boat on a river. Carefully, she extricates herself from Hank’s arms and out of bed. She steps outside and takes the extra time to silently close the door behind her.

The kitchen in the main house is dimly lit with the muted glow of the overhead light above the stove. She moves towards it almost like a beacon, but stops when she hears the paddling once again and then a soft splash. Stella blinks into the darkness and is able to make out the silhouette of someone in the pool.

“Karen?” she whispers.

“Oh shit,” Karen whispers back. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No, I...no.” Stella steps cautiously towards the pool. Her eyes are adjusting more to the darkness and she can make out the dark shape of Karen swimming towards her from the opposite side. She reaches the edge just as Karen does.

“You should come in.”

“I’m not sure where I put my swimsuit. I’d probably wake Hank trying to find it.”

Karen laughs quietly. “Who needs a swimsuit?”

“I’ve never skinny dipped before.”

“It’s fantastic. Especially after midnight.”

“Is that why you’re out here at this hour?”

“Sort of a habit of mine if I can’t sleep.”

“Why can’t you sleep?”

“If I knew, I’d probably be able to sleep.” Karen suddenly dunks her head underwater and then comes back up and clears the water from her face. “Come in. I always bring extra towels down, so don’t worry about that.”

“Alright.”

Stella considers the available options of entering the pool. She decides to use the stairs in the shallow end and leave her nightclothes on one of the deck chairs nearby. She undresses with her back to the pool, but doesn’t hesitate to turn around and descend the steps. Initially bracing herself for a sudden chill, she’s pleasantly surprised that even though she knows it’s heated, it’s still warmer than she was expecting.

As she wades in further, past her knees, past her hips, up to her shoulders, she’s amazed at how different and exhilarating it feels to slip through the water completely bare. She had no idea the absence of a swimsuit would make such a difference. Towards the deeper end of the pool, Karen floats silently on her back and Stella glides closer.

“You’re right,” Stella says. “It is fantastic.”

“Mmhm.”

Doing a half-turn, Stella lays her head back and pulls her legs up before natural buoyancy takes over and she relaxes, floating next to Karen, but in the opposite direction. There is no moon that she can see, but the longer she stares up into the sky, the more stars appear.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Karen says. “But, you didn’t seem like yourself at dinner. Everything okay?”

Stella could easily lie and tell her everything is fine, but even the thought of it feels wrong to her and she doesn’t want to risk putting up walls between herself and Karen. Not when all she needs to do is share such a small piece of herself.

“No, it isn’t,” Stella says. “I had a student that was absent from my lecture this afternoon and found out at the end of class that he had tested positive and is in hospital.”

“Oh, shit.”

“I don’t know what the proper thing to do is.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been thinking over it all evening. I’ve been...reflecting on certain experiences in my life. One in particular, which was quite challenging.”

Stella doesn’t realize she’s drifted so far until she bumps the side of the pool. She pushes lightly away until she’s back to center.

“What was it?” Karen asks. “Or, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“One of the last cases I worked as an active investigator was a serial rapist and murderer. It was extremely taxing for a variety of reasons, but when we had the suspect in custody, he managed to overpower one of the guards and attack me during an interrogation.”

“Jesus!”

“It was vicious and brutal and to put it bluntly, I was severely beaten.”

“Oh my god, Stella.” Karen finds Stella’s hand in the water and holds it tightly.

“I’m quite alright. It was many years ago now.” Stella gives Karen’s hand a reassuring squeeze, but Karen doesn’t let go.

“I had no idea.”

“It’s alright. The reason it’s been on my mind is because whilst in hospital being treated after the incident, I had a very kind doctor who sat with me because he didn’t like the idea that I was alone. It occurred to him, but it did not occur to me, that I might need someone. I had no close friends, no family, no relationship to speak of because I could not and would not let anyone close to me.”

Karen let’s go of Stella’s hand. The water ripples around them as Karen comes out of her float and treads water beside her. Stella also comes out of her float and begins to tread water.

“How did you get from there to here?” Karen asks.

“I’m a work in progress. Do you know that it took me years just to be able to hold Hank’s hand in public?”

“No, I didn’t.”

Stella breathes deeply and lifts her left hand out of the water to flex her fingers. Her wedding ring twinkles softly. “I called Hank, actually,” she says. “After the case was closed and I returned home, just a few days after being released from the hospital. I called him. I didn’t tell him what had happened, I only asked him if he would come to London to see me and he came straight away.”

“That certainly sounds like Hank.”

“We had only met twice before that. And both times...to be perfectly frank, our only connection was sex. I asked him to come to London knowing full well there was a strong possibility he would be angry with me for luring him out under false pretenses.”

“I’m guessing he didn’t do that. And not just because you guys are where you are today, but because I know Hank.”

“I didn’t know him. Not at that time. I only knew that I did not want to be alone and he was the only person I could think of that might not judge me for it.”

“Do you know, that’s something that used to piss me off so much about him? I always felt like he was such a selfish prick because he would drop everything for anyone at any time, no questions asked, regardless of how I felt about it. But, really, I was the selfish prick because what I really wanted was for his full attention and to make me his only priority.”

“I had to learn how to bth be a priority and to prioritize someone else into my life.”

“The funny thing is, even when I was his only priority, I still wasn’t happy.” Karen shakes her head suddenly and then dunks herself underwater. She comes back up, slicking her hair back. “Let’s come over to where we can stand. My arms are getting tired.”

Stella follows Karen towards the shallow end of the pool. Where Karen can stand with the tops of her shoulders exposed, Stella is still chin deep and moves back just a bit.

“Back to your story,” Karen says. “I don’t think you were finished.”

“It’s just that what we’ve seen, what we’ve read, I know that those that have fallen ill and are in hospital are alone. And not by choice. There is no option to have a loved one sit by.”

“It fucking sucks. I don’t even like the thought of it.”

“I know. But, it makes me think back on the training I went through and how it was instilled in me to be calm, rational, to think critically, to compartmentalize my emotions to be able to do the job.”

“You were a really fucking good detective, weren’t you? Hank said you were.”

“I was.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Yes. And no. When I began teaching, I saw it as an opportunity to mold my students into the kind of detective that I was. I think I may also be guiding them towards the same mistakes.”

“What mistakes?”

“It took me a very long time to learn compassion and empathy, and how to use it appropriately.”

“Is that something that can really be learned?”

“I think so. I told my students at the start of all of this, we were going to proceed as though nothing has changed. That this would be a lesson in adaptation to swiftly changing circumstances.”

“And now you’ve changed your mind.”

“I should have stopped to consider the effect this might have on their mental health. Stressed the importance of self-care. All I’ve wanted is to prepare them in the way that I was, but I should also be preparing them in the ways that I wasn’t.”

“What do you think you should do? To prepare them?”

“I don’t know. What do you think I should do?”

“Maybe just ask them how they’re doing.”

“I thought of that, but in my head it sounds so very superficial. When I thought about the student that’s ill, it occurred to me that I don’t know anything about him. Any of them. I don’t know why they’re in my class except that it’s a required course in the criminal justice curriculum. I don’t know where they are now or who they’re with or even if they’re alone. They’re all so much younger than Becca. I’m...worried for them.”

“I think you’ve got the hang of the compassion thing pretty well.”

“I think I preferred being emotionally stunted.”

“No, you didn’t.” Karen chuckles a little and then tips her head back. She slips easily into another float.

Stella pinches her nose and takes a deep breath. She dunks herself and stays under the surface of the water for as long as she can hold her breath and then rises slowly. She goes under again, this time doing a front stroke, gliding as far as she can before twisting while still underwater and coming up to her back. She grows drowsy as she floats somewhere in the middle of the pool, under the stars. She can finally see the half-moon, cresting high to the east.

“I’m pruning,” Karen says after what feels like hours.

Stella is slow to follow, only just coming out of her float as Karen is taking the steps up out of the pool, moonlight glowing off her hair and shoulders. Stella glides to the shallow end, accepting a large, soft towel from Karen even before she’s half-way out.

“Let me know if you ever feel like a midnight swim again,” Karen says. “It was nice to have someone else with me.”

“Fish never comes down with you?”

“How’s this for irony, Fish doesn’t know how to swim.”

“Oh.” Stella laughs lightly. “That is...unexpected.”

“He does come down sometimes though. Sits on the edge and gets his feet wet.”

“Well, if you’re feeling the need as well and want someone to join you, I’d be happy to oblige.”

“Sleep well.”

“Good night.”

Stella retrieves her nightclothes and heads back to the guest house. She enters as quietly as she left and tosses her clothes off somewhere in the dark. It isn’t quietly enough though, and Hank shifts in bed.

“Stella?” he murmurs.

“Go back to sleep,” she says. She towel-dries her hair and hangs the damp towel up on the hook in the bathroom before she heads to bed. When she slips under the sheets, Hank rolls towards her and drapes a heavy arm over her.

“Your hair is wet,” he mumbles against the back of her shoulder. “And you smell like chlorine.”

“I went for a swim.”

“Mm.” He grunts a little and his hand makes a path from her hip to the back of her thigh. “You’re not wearing anything, Sherlock.”

“No. I didn’t know where my suit was and I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Are you saying you went skinny dipping? Without me?”

“I didn’t want to wake you.”

“If nudity is involved, you should always wake me.”

“It was rather spontaneous. Karen was-”

“Karen?” Hank picks his head up and peers over her shoulder at her. “You and Karen were out there skinny dipping?”

“Is that a problem?”

“No. No, no. Nope. Not a problem. There are a lot of thoughts running through my mind right now and none of them are a problem.”

“Don’t get any ideas.”

“Well, too late for that. My ideas even have ideas.” He pushes his hips lazily into hers and rubs her hip.

“We had a nice swim and a chat.”

“What about?”

“A student of mine tested positive. He’s in hospital.”

“Fuck. Really?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

“I don’t know.”

He snuggles closer to her and sighs. She pats his arm for him to ease his grip on her and then shifts onto her back. He rolls over as well and they lay in the dark on their backs, similar to how she had just been floating in the pool with Karen. She reaches blindly for his hand and twines her fingers into his.

“Thank you,” she says.

“For what?”

“The second life you’ve given me.”

“Same.”

She turns and curls towards him, too tired to keep her eyes open any longer.

*****

The pasties don’t turn out quite like how they’re supposed to, but they make her feel nostalgic. She ends up sharing a few anecdotes from her childhood over dinner that she hasn’t thought about in years. Then Fish tells a few tales, then Karen, then Hank, and then Becca. It feels normal and like for a few short hours, the problems of the world fade away. It gives her an idea.

At Friday’s lecture, instead of wearing work attire, Stella dresses in more casual clothes: a white linen button-down tunic with the sleeves rolled up her forearms to the elbows, and jeans. She doesn’t curl her hair, merely clips it back out of her face, and doesn’t wear any make-up.

“Good morning,” she starts. “We’ll begin momentarily, but first I would like you all to know that I believe I was wrong when I told you that we should proceed with this course as though nothing has changed. We are all living through an unprecedented time that is characterized by fear and uncertainty. You may be feeling anxious or overwhelmed right now. You may not even understand how you feel.

“What I would like you to know is that your emotional and mental well-being is just as important as your training. There isn’t enough schooling in the world that’s going to fully prepare you for what it’s like, emotionally, when you walk into your first crime scene, or speak with someone who’s just been through a trauma, or have to face the mother, father, husband, wife, children of someone who was the unfortunate victim of a homicide. Or what it does to you after many years.

“We need to be mindful, I think. More mindful now, more than ever. If you are struggling in any way, I would like to know. And I don’t mean just with the course, I mean in any way. I will help you.”

Stella stops and assesses the gallery of students on the screen. There is silence in the classroom. No notifications for messages. Someone unmutes themselves to give a brief ‘thank you, Professor,’ and others follow.

“In lieu of starting our next chapter on Monday, when we resume after the weekend, the assignment I am giving to you is to think of the place you would most like to be right now. Any place at all. Change your background for the day into that place. For the hour and a half we convene that morning, I want to hear from all of you why you’ve chosen that particular place.”

“Will you be changing your background too, Professor?” one of the students asks.

“Yes.” She pauses again to glance through the gallery. “The last thing I’d like to request before we begin the lecture is that you keep Mr. Diaz in your thoughts. If anyone has any updates on his condition, please share them with me as well.”

Over the weekend, two students will email Stella with the anxieties they’ve been experiencing and one reaches out to tell her that Hector Diaz has been put on a ventilator.

*****

At dinner that night, over lemon herb chicken and grilled asparagus, Stella tells them her plans for Monday’s class.

“Where you gonna pick?” Fish asks.

“I’ve been trying to come up with the answer to that question all day,” she answers.

“Does it have to be somewhere you want to go or somewhere you’ve already been?” Becca asks.

“Any place. No restrictions.”

“I’ve always wanted to go to Morocco,” Karen says.

“I really liked Japan,” Becca muses, stabbing at a spear of asparagus. “I think I would go back there.”

“Bora Bora,” Hank answers, reaching under the table to slide his hand over Stella’s knee. “Hands down, favorite vacation ever.”

“Oh?” she says. “Not Switzerland?”

He chuckles and gives her knee a shake as he shakes his head.

“Karebear, soon’s this is over and things open up, we’ll go to Morocco.”

“Where would you go, Fish?” Stella asks.

“I like it here.”

“That’s cheating,” Hank says, ratting the ice cubes in his whiskey glass. “You have to name another place.”

“Why? I got my BBQ and I’m surrounded by beautiful ladies, not to mention your ugly mug. Why’d I wanna go any place else?

”He has a point,” Stella answers, leaning into Hank’s side. He pinches her knee and she slaps his hand in retaliation.

“I also want to go to Greece,” Becca says.

“Greece is lovely,” Stella tells her. “Definitely go when you get a chance.”

They move on to another topic, but Stella continues to ponder where she’d choose to be, if she could be anywhere. The sun is setting as they clear the dishes and it reminds her of her wedding day at the clearing behind the woods. She pauses in rinsing plates and stares out the kitchen window.

Becca waves a hand in front of Stella’s face, breaking the light trance she finds herself in. She blinks and hands Becca the plate to load into the dishwasher. “Sorry,” she says.

“You totally zoned out there for a minute,” Becca says.

“The spot through the woods where your father and I were married, do you know the way there?”

“Sure. It’s down the back path.”

“Can we go there? Right now?”

“Yeah.”

They leave the rest of the dishes in the sink. Karen is wiping down the table and Becca calls to her that they’ll be right back to finish up. Stella follows Becca down the path away from the guest house. The woods are more lush and overgrown than they had been in the fall of her wedding. They step carefully so as not to trip over tree roots that have come unearthed, but finally they come out of it onto the other side and it’s just as she remembers it.

The sun is still above the treetops and the sky is a myriad of pastel shades of blue and pink and purple. She steps onto the manicured lawn and pulls her phone out of her pocket. She takes her time setting up the shot that she wants and then snaps a few photos. Becca stands beside her and after a few moments, lays her head on Stella’s shoulder. They stand quietly and watch the sun go down.

“I’m really glad you guys decided to come up and stay,” Becca says.

“I am as well.” Stella puts her phone in her pocket and links her arm with Becca’s.

“I thought I’d be cool being alone. I like being alone. And then after a week of it I was already...I guess I don’t like being alone as much as I thought I did. I like to be by myself, but with other people around. Does that make sense?”

“It does.”

“Why’d you want to come out to this spot?”

“Because I think that I already am where I want to be.”

“Like Fish.”

“Yeah.”

“I really hope that kid in your class is okay.”

“I do as well.”

“Do you think this will be over any time soon?”

Stella shakes her head lightly. “Not any time soon.”

*****

Monday’s class goes well. She starts off the informal chat by sharing that the photo she took over the weekend is where she was married and leaves it at that. A majority of students have chosen tropical locations as their preferred destination. One chooses his grandparent’s farm. Another has a cabin in winter. She’s surprised to see familiar scenery in one background that pops up.

“Am I mistaken, Mr. Peterson, or is that Kensington Gardens?” she asks.

“Yes ma’am,” he answers. “My mother is from London. Her parents lived in Bayswater and we would visit every summer when I was little.”

“Is it safe to say you likely read Peter Pan just as often?”

He nods and laughs. “I was convinced the more time I spent there it might increase my chances of meeting him and being able to go to Neverland.”

“I have very fond memories of the park from my youth as well.”

The hours fly by and class comes to a close. She reminds her students to start on the next chapter and submit any questions ahead of the next lecture. When she closes her computer, she feels lighter.

At dinner, they ask how it went and though she would be able to recite to them every story she heard that day, she limits it to the most interesting or humorous. It’s a good start to the week and it makes her feel optimistic.

*****

The weekend comes and Hank spends most of the day with Fish, in preparation for the children’s concert. There are last minute practice sessions and testing of equipment to be done. Stella is both surprised and amused that Hank has taken such an interest in helping Fish with his students.

At the prescribed time, Stella, Becca, and Karen gather in the sitting room where Becca has set up the Zoom link to appear on the television somehow. Because the concert is early in the evening, dinner is postponed until later. Some of Fish’s students are quite young, only five or six years old, and they have strict bedtimes. The littlest one is a girl that plays Twinkle Twinkle Little Star on a pink guitar so small it’s hardly bigger than a ukulele.

As the concert goes on, the kids progress in skill. Hank’s duet with the boy named Dylan is towards the end. It’s clear the boy is exceptional, but lacks confidence. There’s a tremble in his voice when he introduces himself and the song.

“My name is Hank, I’ll be joining Dylan tonight,” Hank says. “Any wrong notes you might hear belong to me and not the kid.”

The first few bars come slowly and haltingly, but once Dylan gets going, the song seems to pour out of him fluidly. His eyes stay fixed on the screen like he’s following along with Hank, keeping in sync and on tempo. When the song ends, the boy puffs his cheeks up and lets out a huge breath and his shoulders loosen.

“Virtual fist bump, D,” Hank says, holding a fist out and leaning towards the eye of the camera on him. “Bring it in.”

There are three more students after Dylan, one other boy and lastly, two sisters on electric guitar playing I Love Rock ‘N Roll. Even without knowing much about modern music or rock, Stella is quite impressed by the whole thing.

Dinner feels festive that night. Fish floats high on the success of the concert and fields calls from happy parents as he grills steaks. Becca reminisces about her time in a band and how much she used to love playing. Karen finds some videos on her phone from a few of those concerts. Hank tells a story about buying Becca her first guitar, and Becca follows with a story about Hank getting her an even better vintage guitar from a man that was clearly having a hard time making ends meet.

“He was trying to sell it back to the guitar store,” Becca says. “He had a little kid with him and you could really tell things weren’t going great, otherwise he would not be getting rid of a ‘61 Les Paul Special.”

“Beckster, I hope you still have that guitar,” Fish says.

“Of course I do.”

“Pete Townshend plays that guitar.”

“Who?” Hank asks.

“Wiseass,” Fish retorts.

“Anyway, the guy at the shop wasn’t interested,” Becca continues, and Stella recognizes the adoring look on her face as she tells the story. “But, since we were there to get a guitar, we really didn’t care where it came from. Dad stopped the guy on his way out and handed him an envelope of cash.”

Hank shrugs it off. “Dads gotta stick together.”

They part ways for the night after dinner. After finishing her nightly rituals in the bathroom, when she comes out, Hank is sitting on the edge of the bed with a guitar in his lap. She stands before him, rubbing lotion into her hands and arms.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve heard you play,” she says.

“Guess I just fell out of the habit.”

“You’re quite good.”

“I’ve been practicing something for you.”

“Have you?”

He nods and plucks the guitar strings softly as he adjusts the tuning pegs. “Forgive the singing, I can barely carry a tune in a bucket.”

“A full serenade?” she asks with a smile.

“Goin’ all out for you.”

He starts playing and she doesn’t immediately recognize the tune, but just before he starts singing she realizes it’s Elton John’s Your Song. He’s right about not being the world’s greatest singer, but she doesn’t hear any imperfections. She only hears the man that loves her playing a song for her. Never in a million years would she have considered herself to be susceptible to something so cliche and sappy, but she is. It makes her chest ache in the best possible way, filled with how much she feels for him that she never thought she was capable of.

When he finishes, he looks up at her and smiles. She takes the guitar out of his hands and sets it aside. In two steps, she’s back before him and then straddles his lap. He pulls her in close and she cups his face in her hands.

“Go slow,” she says.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Despite the request, he leans back just a little and takes the bottom of the shirt to pull it off. He doesn’t remove her bra though, not yet. Instead, he buries his face in the valley of her breasts. He traces her peaks and curves with his tongue and then scrapes his teeth over the satin cups before pulling one side down to take her into his mouth. She threads her fingers through his hair to encourage him, reminding herself that even if this act doesn’t do much for her, it’s a form of worship for him.

Without warning, he takes a hard grip on the backs of her thighs and stands just long enough to turn the tables and have her on her back on the bed. He’s above her on his knees and reaches back to grab the collar of his shirt and yank it off. She dips her fingers into the top of his jeans to pull him to her, but he takes her hands, one by one, and pins them to the bed above her head.

“Slow,” he says.

She nods, but arches up and pushes her chest into his. He eases his weight onto her to keep her in place and she wraps her legs around his hips. When he kisses her, he goes in deep and she moans her approval. He releases her hands and she wraps her arms around his back as he cradles her head.

She’s never told him this, but one of the reasons she prefers hard and fast over slow is that she doesn’t like the time that slowness gives her to think. It makes her susceptible, vulnerable, and opens something inside her like a deep need for more of him. Not physically, but emotionally. The slower he goes, the more she needs him and the more afraid she becomes of losing what she has because it’s so perfect. Perfectly messy and challenging and exasperating and lovely and crazy and perfect. Tonight, she thinks that if she were to ever lose him, she would lose so much more than just him. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing at all.”

“There’s something.”

“I think I just understand what you meant a few weeks ago when you told me I was the only thing that made sense to you. Everything is right. Even if the world seems like it’s falling apart, you feel right. And...for the first time in my life, I am grateful to have someone by my side.”

“All that and you haven’t even been dicked down yet. I should’ve been singing to you years ago.”

“Rest assured it certainly wasn’t your voice that led me to that conclusion.”

“Ouch.”

She caresses his back lightly and then holds the back of his neck as her thumbs skim along his jaw. He leans in to kiss her again and again and again. They rock against each other. Stella pushes up and pulls him down just as he presses into her and pulls her up. They’re both breathless before they even manage to start removing the rest of their clothes. Her bra is the next thing to go and then his pants, her pants and lastly her panties. His jockey shorts only make it past his hips.

They both groan in relief when he enters her. She folds her knees back towards her chest and takes a firm grip on his ass. He starts off slow and deep, lazily rolling his hips against her. There’s sweat at his temples, but not from exertion, from the self-control he’s using to make it last. He pulls out and rolls them over so she’s on top.

“Giving up so soon?” she asks.

“Just giving you a chance to drive for awhile.”

“You’re a very generous lover.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.”

She holds his gaze as she sinks down onto him. “I’m already right where I want to be.”

They play with the give and take for a bit, bantering and bartering for dominance and control of the pace, but then it gets serious. He brings her to her first orgasm with his hands as she grinds down onto him and he waits for her thighs to stop quaking before bringing her to her hands and knees. The stinging slap of his hand on her ass as he drives into her ushers in her second release. He soon follows, groaning out his pleasure as he pulls so roughly at her hips that she can already feel the sweet bruises blooming under his fingers.

They both collapse. He drags her up against him even though they’re both hot and sweaty and slippery. Her hair is damp and clings to the back of her neck and shoulders.

“In case you were wondering if quarantine had affected my virility, I think you just got your answer,” he says.

“Your virility is always my top concern.”

“Mm.” He kisses the back of her arm and rests the side of his face on her bicep. “What do you think about going skinny dipping? Unless you can only get naked in the pool with my ex.”

“Now?”

“You have other plans?”

“Yes, I’ve a rendezvous with my other husband in an hour’s time.”

“We can make it a quick dip then so you don’t have to keep him waiting.”

She chuckles softly as he presses exaggerated kisses down her arm and hip and belly. And then he lays his head down on her thigh and she strokes his hair for some time, content to soak in the afterglow. He finally gets up, goes to the bathroom, and returns with two towels.

“Come on, Sherlock,” he says. “I want to get my naked in the pool with you.”

*****

Stella wakes in the morning to the sound of rain. The room is darker than usual, even for the early hour. She manages to slide out of bed without disturbing Hank and she grabs her robe to wrap up in before opening her laptop and sitting down at the small table in the corner. She has four emails from late yesterday evening all with the subject: Hector Diaz. She only opens the first one and then closes her laptop and sits in silence until Hank wakes.

“No fair not being naked,” Hank mumbles as his eyes drift open and shut. He rolls over and stretches languidly. When she doesn’t respond, he lifts up onto his elbows and blinks at her, hair spiking up unnaturally at all angles. “What’s wrong, Sherlock? Whatever I’ve done to piss you off before even waking up, I sincerely apologize.”

“My student succumbed last night.”

“Succumbed as in…”

Stella nods and steeples her hands in front of her chin.

“Shit,” Hank whispers and then drags half the bedsheets with him as he tries to get out of bed. He kneels down next to where she’s sitting and looks up at her. “Stella, I’m sorry.”

“So am I.”

*****

Sunday is brunch day, another meal where they gather together. And though Stella has no appetite, she heads to the main house with Hank anyway, determined not to sit and wallow. Besides, the rain has stopped and the sky is beginning to open up. As they make their way across the soaked grass and around the pool, he hooks his pinkie finger with hers and gives her a squeeze. She holds on, feeling anchored in that moment.

“Hey,” Karen greets as Hank opens the sliding door and ushers Stella inside. “I just put a fruit platter in the fridge. Becca wants waffles so I was looking for the...what happened? What’s wrong?”

“Is it that obvious?” Stella asks, already weary.

“Her student,” Hank answers.

“Fuck. No. Fuck. Really?” Karen is on Stella in an instant, smothering her an embrace so tight it makes Stella’s eyes water.

“It’s okay,” Stella murmurs, patting Karen lightly on the back.

“It’s not okay. I know you’re being polite, but it fucking sucks, that’s what it is.”

“Yes, you’re right.”

Karen sighs and releases Stella from her embrace, but keeps one arm around her shoulder. “What can we do?” she asks.

“Nothing. I need to consider what I’ll say in class tomorrow, but I don’t believe there’s anything that will help.”

“Right. It just feels so senseless, doesn’t it? All of it. So…”

“Yes.”

“However you need to deal with it, we’re all here. For whatever.”

“Thank you, I do appreciate that.”

Stella does appreciate the sentiment very much, but she knows she also has a long way to go when it comes to openly sharing her feelings without thoroughly processing them ahead of time. She has spent too much of her life alone and had little use for depending upon anyone else. And the simple fact is, she’s confused and frightened by this situation. It’s not something she has authority or expertise in. She can’t control it or delegate tasks on it and hold anyone accountable. Even if she was still a DSI Gibson of the MPS, she would be futile.

*****

Stella spends Sunday evening in the upstairs office responding to messages from her students. As word spreads, her inbox fills with hesitant inquiries if her offer to chat informally is still open. She does her best to offer words of wisdom or comfort, knowing full well anything she says is inadequate.

Even though Stella has left the door to the office open, Becca knocks on the frame and waits for an invitation before she enters. Stella removes her glasses and beckons her in, glad for a reprieve from the glowing screen. Words have started to blur.

“I’m going to make some hibiscus tea,” Becca says. “Thought I’d see if you wanted some.”

“No, thank you.”

“Don’t trust a Yank with a tea kettle?”

Stella smiles. “I can’t think of a thing I wouldn’t trust you with, darling girl.”

“I also wanted to ask if you’ve thought of what to say to your kids tomorrow.” Becca plops down in the chair across from the desk and slouches, linking her fingers across her abdomen.

“My kids,” Stella murmurs, softly. “Such an unfortunate age to be in your first years university, isn’t it? Not quite an adult, not really a child.”

“Every age feels unfortunate when you’re there. And then you look back and think, it wasn’t so bad as I thought.”

“Yes, I think you might be right about that.”

“Teen angst was just becoming fashionable when I went through it. And I had a lot of it.”

“I can imagine that you did.”

Becca grins cheekily. “A lot of it was just for attention. Back then, with those two, they rarely heard anything except for themselves.”

“I’m glad things are different now for you.”

“I’m just glad they’re different. I don’t know if the me of ten years ago could deal with the situation we’re in today. Not like your kids.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was pretty ragey. I felt really destructive. Like I wanted to scream and yell and break shit all the time. I got some of it out when I played music. And then I started college not knowing what the hell I wanted to do. Your kids though, they’re probably driven. I can’t imagine anyone that isn’t highly focused or motivated studying criminology. Wanting to make that their career.”

“Would it surprise you then to find out that I was more like you in my youth than you think?”

“Really?” Becca looks at Stella with a certain degree of skepticism. “No, I can’t really picture it.”

“My outlets were...less creative.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re definitely not the artsy type. That’s for sure. What were your outlets then? Breaking shit?”

“Sex. Drugs. Self-harm.”

Becca’s eyebrows shoot straight up and she sits taller. “No way.”

“Very destructive. Yet, also highly focused and motivated.”

“Then I guess the question is, what would you go back and tell yourself if you were where we are now, but back then.”

“Ah. That is what I’ve been pondering.”

“It’s like when people say they wish they knew then what they know now.”

“Yes, very much so.”

“I think you’ll figure it out then. You’re the most intelligent person I know.”

“Thank you, Becca. For this chat and for the offer for tea.”

“Anytime you want to try my tea, you let me know. I can be trusted.”

“Absolutely.”

Becca pushes herself up from the arms of the chair and then she comes around to the back of the desk. She leans down and Stella turns to meet her in an embrace. Becca kisses Stella’s cheek before she leaves and a calmness comes over Stella.

*****

“I want to start today’s lecture by thanking each and every one of you for being here today,” Stella says. “For finding the motivation to be present when I know this is probably not how you’d like to be spending your afternoon. There wasn’t a single one out of all of you who did not reach out to me yesterday in response to Mr. Diaz’s passing. I find that to be exceedingly remarkable and it speaks not only to your character, but also of the effect that one person can have on your life.”

She pauses, her eyes moving over the kaleidoscope of her students’ faces on her screen. Tiny boxes holding the weight of grief and despair and disappointment.

“I wish that I could tell you this soon will pass. I wish that I could tell you this will be the last time you’ll have to endure what feels so senseless. But, I also know that you are in my class and on this path because of who you are.

“You are the ones that want to make a difference. You want to help. You want to right wrongs. You want to make the world a better place. You will only do some of that. Along the way you will feel discouraged, frustrated, and angry. What you do with your frustration and anger, your grief over what you can not change, is what will define you, and either make you a better person, or not.

“I want to reiterate my request to you to seek help. If not from me, from the school resources, from qualified professionals, from family, from friends. I promise you it is not a weakness, it is a necessity. And it is something I very much wish that someone had told me when I was in your position.”

Stella ends with a deep breath. She considers the group in front of her again. Her kids. She feels a deep and painful connection with them in this moment that she knows intellectually is a form of trauma bonding, but it doesn’t make it less real. They are the only ones who know what it’s like to be in this space, together, at this time. It feels like a watershed moment in all their lives. She only hopes the ultimate impact will be positive.

“Let us take a moment to thank Mr. Diaz for his contribution to our class and we’ll begin in his honor.”

*****

Stella comes down from her lecture feeling hopeful. Despite everything, her class was engaged and thoughtful. She expects to find everyone gathered in the sitting room or kitchen, as they tend to do in the late afternoon, but there’s only Fish, sitting on the kitchen island with a bowl of cereal, gazing out the window.

“Where is everyone?” she asks.

“Beckster and Karebear went for a walk. Moody took over Dylan’s guitar lesson today so they can continue an argument over who rocks harder, The Stones or Zeppelin.”

“Thank you for giving him something to do.”

“No, thank you. The kids love ‘im. He’s helped expand the business.”

“I thought you did this for free.”

Fish shrugs. “Business is business. The more the better.”

“I’m sorry I’ve been remiss in thanking you for allowing us to stay with you.”

“Bah.”

“I feel I only ever really speak with Karen about it, but I should be thanking you as well.”

“More the better. Family’s gotta stick together.”

“Yes, that’s what...I’m learning that.”

“Your class go okay? Kids alright?”

“I think they will be. I wish I knew how to do more though. Actually, I’ve been giving it some thought lately and I think that I might enroll in some psychology courses.”

“Huh. Would’ve thought with all you’ve done you’d’ve studied some psych.”

“Yes, I have two of my degrees in Abnormal Psychology and Forensic Psychology. But, I was thinking of studying Child Psychology this time around.”

“How many degrees you got?”

“Hundreds,” she murmurs.

Fish nods thoughtfully. “Architecture?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“I got one up on ya then!”

She smiles. “And I can not play an instrument either.”

“I’ll teach ya. Come on in the studio some time.”

“I may have to take you up on that offer once the semester ends.”

“Hot dog. Got a guitar with your name on it even.”

“In two weeks time, I’d be happy to join the ranks of your esteemed pupils.”

*****

The week drags by. Even the weather seems depressed, raining most mornings and staying overcast throughout the day. Her students are subdued. Stella starts sleeping fitfully again, exhausting herself by the weekend. Sunday morning she wakes alone, which is strange. She’s usually up well before Hank on any given day and it’s still fairly early. It’s brunch day, so she doesn’t feel much compulsion to get up, but when she looks at her phone she also realizes it’s Mother’s Day.

Although she wonders where Hank has gone, she’s only mildly curious and not worried. It’s entirely possible he needed to help Fish with some lessons and forgot to inform her. She is surprised that she didn’t even feel him slip out of bed or hear him leave.

Stella gets out of bed and opens the closet. She’s had a gift for Karen stowed away that she’s needed to wrap for a few weeks: a photo of Becca on an evening they’d gone to dinner, back when she’d visited London and Hank and Stella were still living there. She’d had the photo turned to black and white, printed, matted and framed. Thank goodness for online ordering. All she needs to do is wrap it in tissue paper and arrange it nicely in the gift bag she also ordered.

And there’s also the matter of the card. She’s had it for weeks and has struggled to find the words she wants to write. It’s times like this that she’s envious of Hank and of Becca and their ability to express themselves so honestly. She sits at the desk with the blank card and a pen in hand.

Karen,

Thank you for sharing your daughter with me and for welcoming me into her life as well as yours. You will never know how much I have learned about what it means to be a mother from you. Thank you for your generosity and wisdom. You are an inspiration and you will forever have my esteem and my admiration and my gratitude.

Warm regards, Stella

Stella sighs and puts down the pen. It’s taken her a quarter of an hour to write the card and she’s still not sure if it’s adequate. It will have to be. She slips the card into its envelope, seals it, and writes Karen’s name on the front before she tucks it into the gift bag. And then she gets herself ready for brunch.

It’s surprisingly sunny and warm out. No rain and not a cloud in the sky. Karen is sitting at the patio table with sunglasses on, reading a book, when Stella comes up to the house. She waves her hand slightly as Stella approaches and closes her book.

“We’re banned from the kitchen,” Karen says. “They’re cooking up some sort of surprise in there.”

“Do we trust them?”

“I think so. Knowing Fish he would try to grill pancakes if he could, but since we’re not banned from the patio, that’s probably a good sign.”

Stella laughs and sits down across from Karen. Shyly, she slides the gift bag across the table towards her, grateful that she actually has the opportunity to give Karen the gift while they’re alone.

“What’s this?” Karen asks.

“I wanted to get you something.��

“Oh my god, you’re so sweet. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Well, I guess that makes us even because I got you something too.” Karen reaches down and presents a similarly sized gift bag to Stella. They both laugh.

“Shall we open them at the same time?”

“Yes.”

Stella rifles through the tissue paper in her bag and Karen does the same. Since Karen takes the card out first, Stella does the same. Her name is written on the front in black calligraphy. The card itself is made of parchment paper and very simple. There are two birds in watercolor on the front, a large bird and a smaller bird.

Stella - Let me be the first to wish you the happiest of Mother’s Days and know that I couldn’t have asked for a better bonus Mom for Becca than you. You have enriched her life as well as mine and I am so so so so so so so happy to share this day with you.

Love, Karen

“You’re gonna make me cry,” Karen says, putting the card down and reaching across the table for Stella’s hands. Stella’s own eyes are watering as she gives Karen’s her hands.

“Words are not my forte like how they are for Hank and Becca,” Stella says.

Karen squeezes Stella’s hands tightly. “Are you kidding me? This is an amazing card, thank you.”

“What you wrote means a lot to me as well.”

“Ach, okay.” Karen lets go of Stella’s hands and then fans her face for a few moments. “Too much emotion without food. Let’s see what we got!”

There’s square box inside Stella’s bag and when she slices through the tape holding it closed with her thumbnail, she finds a framed photo of her and Becca from her wedding day. They both laugh again when they realize they both got each other photos of Becca.

“Obviously, Mom minds think alike,” Karen says.

“That must be it.”

They’re still laughing when Becca comes outside, holding a pitcher. She gives them both a rather dubious look. “What’s so funny?” she asks.

“Look what we got each other!” Karen exclaims, holding up her photo. “Photos of you!”

“You guys are weird.”

“And it’s your fault, Rebecca Moody,” Karen answers, lightly smacking Becca on the backside just as Hank comes out the door with five champagne flutes in his hand.

“What’s she done?” Hank asks. “Whatever it is, I take full responsibility. Daughter, I will defend thee to the death.”

“They’re being weird and blaming me. And now you’re being weird.”

“Actually,” Karen says. “If you think about it, it really is Hank’s fault. If he hadn’t knocked me up, we wouldn’t be here.”

“Yes, I will definitely take all the credit there,” Hank answers, placing glasses around the table. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Mimosas?” Stella asks, nodding at the pitcher in Becca’s hands.

“Bellinis.”

“Wow, you guys went all out,” Karen says.

“Thank you,” Stella says as Becca pours her a Bellini, but she looks at Hank when she says it.

*****

Brunch is exceedingly festive. They eat too much, they drink too much, and laugh a lot. Becca presents Karen with a necklace and Stella with a bracelet, both of which are sterling silver chains holding three interlocking rings of diminishing sizes in copper, gold, and silver. When Karen asks if it’s supposed to be the three of them, Becca tells her they’re meant to represent the links between the past, present, and future. Stella would like to blame the champagne for the tears that spring to her eyes, but she can’t.

Late in the afternoon, she and Hank return to the guest house and she’s full and drowsy. He lays down with her and she falls asleep to the warm press of his lips on just about every patch of exposed skin he can find. When she wakes, it’s dark outside and Hank is at the table with half a sandwich in his mouth and papers strewn all over. He’s shirtless, glasses on, a red pen behind his ear. He rips a piece of sandwich off with his teeth and chews quickly.

“What’s up, Sleeping Beauty?” he asks.

“How long was I out for?”

He shrugs. “Hungry? Made some PBJs a bit ago.”

“Still full from brunch. You should’ve woken me.”

He takes his glasses off, puts his unfinished sandwich down, and sits back in his chair. He folds his hands and swivels back and forth a little as he looks at her. “You needed it,” he finally says.

“I suppose I did.”

“Feeling better?”

“Refreshed, more or less.” She sits up and slides out of bed with the wobbliness of the freshly woken. “You editing?”

“Sort of.”

“Mm.” She rubs her eyes and stretches.

“Promise not to laugh?”

“Yes.”

“I’m writing a song.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, trying. I’m doing the lyrics and Fish is going to write the melody.”

“Oh, it’s Fish now? Are the two of you, dare I say, best friends now?”

“Let’s not go that far.”

“So, you’ve formed a band?”

“Yeah, the new Simon & Garfunkel.”

“Well, I think it’s lovely.”

“Reserve your judgement until we actually manage to piece together a song.”

Stella slides one arm around Hank’s shoulder and sits down in his lap. He pulls back a little in surprise, but circles her hips and turns to a more comfortable angle in the chair. She strokes his nape and touches his face.

“Have you thought about returning to New York at all?” she asks. “Not that we’re able to, but have you thought about it?”

He holds a breath for a moment and then expels it roughly and shakes his head a little. “No. You?”

She shakes her head no as well. “I think it was a wise decision, coming here.”

“I have to begrudgingly agree.” He tips his head back and looks down the bridge of his nose at her. “The skinny dipping may have tipped the scales, so feel free to make that a regular occurance.”

She pinches the back of his neck lightly in response and he gasps and then scoops her up into his arms as he gets up from the chair. She laughs and holds on as he tries to dump her onto the bed so he ends up going down with her.

“Should we test that virility of yours?” she asks, drawing one finger lightly up his spine.

“I could go for a check-up.”

She hums a little and touches his face. He presses his cheek into her hand and then turns to kiss her palm. The bracelet Becca gave her slips down her arm a few inches and Stella stares at it as Hank nuzzles the inside of her wrist.

“Karen was right,” Stella says.

“I hate it when she’s right. About what? Coming here?”

Yes, but if not for you, we wouldn’t be here.”

“Funny how it sounds less accusatory coming from you.”

“She’s grateful. You know she is.”

“All that matters to me is how you feel.”

“Also grateful. You have given me the family I never knew I wanted or needed.”

“Then I take full credit for knocking Karen up back in the day and we won’t even mention how lousy she was at remembering to take her birth control.”

Stella chuckles and closes her eyes as Hank leans in to kiss her face. She wraps her arms around him and holds on tight.

The End

#i wrote this #hanella #hank/stella #quarantine fic #now you know what's up

80 notes · View notes

bvannn · 9 months ago

Text

Weekly Update May 31, 2024

This week was fine in terms of productivity. Didn’t get as much comic work done as I would have liked, but made progress on other stuff, and returned to work and plasma donation, so I should have a bit more money.

Big thing I did this week was OEB work, kinda. Didn’t get any storyboards done but I got a good chunk of the clip studio assets I need to build the lead’s rig done. I’d guess the rig as 30% done. Plus, also got some sketchy line assets ready to test my new strategy for those. I probably won’t make test animations with the rig, although fwiw I’m considering trying out some smaller ‘half-rig’ animations, to see how long they take. That’s a lower priority, though.

This week I also listened to those songs I’ve been sitting on in the car, realized they were super quiet compared to other songs in my playlist, googled why, and found a solution. I’m now going through the old tracks and re-mastering them all. I may also go redo some of the vocal tuning, but I’ll probably do that in a batch with the new vocal files, so everything can get sent and exported at the same time. Right now, WOTW has been partially re-mastered, this weekend I’ll probably finish it up and hit the others too.

Additionally, I did a ton of lyric writing yesterday, and plan to continue tonight. BATB is still around 1/3 done with lyrics, and the new one, RR, I’d say somewhere between 25 and 33%. I’m planning to continue it tonight, I’ve been in a writing sorta mood. BATB specifically I redid two entire chunks, because they weren’t descriptive enough. I’ll try to get at least the second verse done tonight.

I’m also trying a new strategy for organizing my VSTs, so hopefully I can get some quickies done soon. I’ll try to get that ambient one done Sunday at the latest. I’ll see what I can do on another one soon.

Comic: 21.5% done. Today I got some good ideas for future issues, and some inspiration for some more drawings. At work last summer I did a ton of general story writing, and I’m hoping this summer will be the same. If I’m feeling energized tonight I’ll try to finish up page 7 and get a general drawing done.

This weekend I’ll also try to sketch out some Artfight refs. Romeo needs a new one, I’d like to add Josh as an option, and depending on time or energy I might tweak or redo the others. I’ll probably redo Emrys’ thumbnail because there’s a small error, and I’ll fix his refsheet too if it’s there too.

Next week I expect to be slow because the personal problem I anticipated was delayed until this Sunday, and the fallout will probably follow. I’ll try to place a bigger focus on comic, but music is so fun to work on. Again sorry I’ve been so slow on posting, but I’m working on big projects, I hope they’ll be worth it!

#weekly update

4 notes · View notes

nialledfromfics · 5 years ago

Text

The Dating Game | Chapter Seven

By three weeks into dating Ross, and their fourth date, he had invited Joey over to his place for dinner and drinks. To say she was a bit anxious was an understatement, she knew what dinner and drinks at his place really meant in the unspoken terms of dating and it wasn’t that Joey was against sleeping with Ross, the thought had very much crossed her mind, there was just this small piece of her that was still unsure. It was like a tiny tickle in the back of her throat, or this barely-there knot at the pit of her stomach that just kept whispering ‘not yet, not him’ and it was more frustrating than alarming to her. Ross was a nice guy, he was sweet and kind and, up to that point, other than some heated making out in his car a couple of times in front of Joey’s building, he hadn’t even attempted to go further.

Joey appreciated that he seemed to be respectful of her, and she was well aware of how rare that was in the current day and age. But she wanted it to go further, that was a big part of dating, to experience new things with new partners and if she didn’t take that leap, what was the point?

So she found herself standing at his front door on a Friday night, bottle of wine in hand and that nagging, obnoxious knot pulsing in her stomach. Brushing it off as best she could, Joey knocked on his door and within a few seconds she was walking through the threshold of his small, modest house. He greeted her with a kiss to her cheek and led her all the way inside where she was met with a beautiful candlelit dinner set up on his dining table, soft music playing in the background and the lights dimmed low.

She knew exactly what it meant.

Smiling at him, Joey kept her composure throughout dinner and over the course of a few glasses of wine. Ross was very much the gentleman, only holding her hand and kissing her when she initiated. And Joey very much did initiate it. She wanted to take their relationship to the next step, she really did. And she had it set in her mind that it was going to happen that very night.

After making out pretty fervently on his couch, Ross brought her back to his bedroom. Joey could feel the sweat beading up on the palms of her hands, gathering at the dip of her lower back and she struggled with easing the nerves that were coursing wildly through her. But those nerves felt...different. It wasn’t the normal excited and antsy anticipated kind of nerves, no, it was more like a twisting, unsettling feeling that she just couldn’t kick. And it wasn’t but ten minutes into it–Ross having his hand slid up her dress and his fingers between her legs–that Joey couldn’t breathe.

His mouth was attached to her neck sucking and nipping at her skin, and he was rutting his lower half against her thigh as his touch moved roughly under her panties. It felt weird, perverse almost and not right in her mind and Joey gasped as he went to yank her underwear off her hips, screaming at him to stop.

He froze, lifting his head to peer down at her. “What’s wrong?”

She swallowed hard and lightly shook her head. “I’m, uh...I’m not ready for...this. I’m sorry,” she muttered.

Ross let out a heavy sigh and tucked his lips into his mouth, yanking his hand out from under her dress. “That’s okay,” he grumbled, almost as if he was trying to convince himself. He reached over and cradled her cheek, pressing a kiss to her lips. “Another time.”

Joey smiled and thanked him, as a flood of relief soared over her entire body. She decided that it was probably best that she go home and Ross told her that was fine, he would call her the next day. As Joey hopped into her car and started to pull out of his driveway, she glanced up at Ross to see him standing in his open doorway, waving goodbye to her. She could only muster up a half smile as she drove away, her mind reeling with what the fuck had just happened.

•

That Sunday Joey found herself headed over to Alexis’ apartment for mid-morning coffee and some much needed girl talk. Her best friend had called her the night before inviting her over, more than eager to know what had happened on Joey’s big date with Ross. Joey had yet to tell her anything about it, she almost felt silly and like she was overreacting, but she had to tell someone and Niall did not need to know that she couldn’t put out to her own boyfriend, so Alexis was the only person she really could tell.

Lincoln, Alexis’ son, was the one to greet Joey at the door and he happily gave his teacher a hug. “Ready for school tomorrow?” she asked him as she walked over to where Alexis sat on the couch.

“Nope!” he called out, his little feet running back towards his bedroom. The girls laughed and Joey plopped down next to Alexis on the sofa, the blonde handing her friend a much needed cup of coffee.

“So…” Alexis began, crossing her pajama clad legs up under her and turning towards her best friend. Joey hadn’t even had one sip yet before Alexis was diving into the thick of the conversation. “What happened on Friday?”

Joey let a small sigh slip past her lips. “Not much, actually,” she mumbled, peeking down at her full mug, “nothing happened.”

“What do you mean ‘nothing’,” Alexis pestered, narrowing her eyes.

“Exactly that,” Joey began, looking back up at her friend. “We had a nice dinner that he had made, some wine, started making out...it moved to his bedroom and...he, ya know, was touching me and stuff but...I stopped him.”

“Why’d you stop him?”

“I don’t know!” Joey told her, rolling her eyes up to the white ceiling of Alexis’ living room. “It just didn’t...feel right. I got this weird feeling inside me when he was touching me and I can’t even explain it, Lex.”

Shifting her body to set her coffee cup down on the table, Alexis leaned her back into the side of the sofa, crossing her arms over her chest. “I know what it is.”

“Do you?” Joey asked, raising her brows, “ ‘cause to be honest, I’m fucking stumped.”

She nodded and pursed her lips in a line. “You’re still hung up on Niall.”

“What?” Joey snorted, shaking her head as she glanced down at her mug, picking at the rim with her thumbnail, “I am not.”

“You are too!” Alexis went on, “Look, if you’ve got real feelings for somebody else, then it's going to be hard to get it on with another person.”

Joey shook her head and peered up at her friend. “I don't have feelings for Niall, I told you we’re nothing more than friends.”

“When’s the last time you saw him?”

“Niall?”

“Yeah…”

Joey licked across her lips, her light brown eyes dancing across the room. “Um…I dunno, like, a week ago? We hung out at his place and watched a movie, and we’ve texted a few times but other than that, I haven’t talked to him much. He’s been working a lot lately.”

Alexis tipped her head to the side. “Well, maybe you should talk to him.”

“I’m dating Ross, though,” Joey said with a furrowed brow, “it’s kinda weird to be hanging out with a guy that’s not your boyfriend when you have a boyfriend.”

“Why would it be weird if he’s just your friend?”

“I dunno,” Joey scoffed, “ask any male alive.”

Throwing her head back onto the couch in a laugh, Alexis looked back over at her friend. “Touché,” she said, grabbing her coffee from the table and taking a sip, “but really, if you’re just not feeling it with Ross...maybe you’re just not that into him.”

“But I am!” Joey insisted, “I do really like him and he’s very sweet and fun, we have interesting conversations…and I do want to sleep with him, I just...I don’t know what my deal is.”

Joey took a small sip of her hot drink, her eyes peering over at Alexis past the rim of her mug. She could already see the smug look on the blonde’s face, the corners of her mouth tugging into a knowing smile. Joey rolled her eyes in haste and pushed out a groan.

“It has nothing to do with Niall!”

•

Her overwhelming and confusing thoughts stayed with her over the course of the following week. She had taken Alexis’ advice; she did end up face-timing Niall a couple days later. It was just a 20 minute chat, very friendly and easy, and filled with their usual banter, and it actually did make Joey feel a bit better about the whole situation. Her and Niall were friends and that’s all it was ever going to be. So with that out of the way, she was able to really put her focus on Ross.

He had invited her out that Saturday night, and Joey accepted, wanting to kind of start fresh and forget about what had happened that past weekend. She was determined to get past whatever bullshit she was hung up on in her head and really try to make it work with Ross. He had mentioned that he had plans earlier in the day, but he was going to text her the place and they could meet up for drinks after he was done. Joey took the day to thoroughly prepare for the night; tidying up her house, making sure to primp and preen and she was fully ready to push back any weird or odd feelings she was having, to make sure the evening was smooth sailing. It was going to be the night that they took their relationship to the next level. It had to be that night.

Around 8:30pm, Joey received a text from Ross. He gave her the name and address of the bar, and Joey should have been shocked upon reading it but she just rolled her eyes and let out a chuckle at the absurdity of the whole thing. It was Chris’ bar. Of course. Grabbing her purse, she straightened out the red form fitting dress she was wearing and said goodbye to Sadie before heading out.

Ross was waiting for Joey up at the bar when she arrived, practically in the same exact spot where she had first met Niall just a few months back. The reminiscing made a soft smile spread over her lips as she stepped up to Ross and he immediately snaked an arm around her middle, yanking her into him to plant a kiss at her cheek. The bar area was abnormally packed from what Joey had remembered previously, but they were able to snag one barstool right at the end, Ross letting Joey take the seat as he ordered them some drinks.

“You look amazing in that dress,” he complimented her, Joey tipping her face down slightly in a smile.

“Thank you,” she said, peering back up at him as he stood next to her, “you look great too.”

The bartender set down their drinks and Joey grabbed her glass to take a sip. The two enjoyed a bit of small talk as they sipped on their beverages, Ross cracking a couple lame jokes and making Joey laugh before she felt a light tap on the round of her shoulder. Swinging her head around, she was instantly met with a pair of bright blue eyes. Ones that she was more than familiar with.

Niall.

A huge smile swept over Joey’s face upon seeing him and he mouthed a soft ‘hey’ as the young woman clambered up from her seat and tugged Niall into a tight hug. Her nose buried down against his shoulder, and Joey’s eyes fluttered slightly as she deeply inhaled. He smelled out-of-this-world good. “I wasn’t sure if I should come over and say hi,” Niall said as Joey inched back, her hands casually slipping down his broad shoulders. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine!” she assured him, glancing back at Ross. “I’m glad you did.”

Taking a step back, Joey flicked her eyes between the two men that were situated on both sides of her. “Um, Ross this is my friend, Niall,” Joey began as she introduced them, “Niall this is Ross.”

Niall graciously shook Ross’ hand. “Nice to meet ya, man.”

“Likewise.”

“So what are you up to? Meeting Chris here?” Joey then asked Niall.

Running his hand up through his softly mussed hair, Niall pulled in a breath and gave her a slight nod. “Yeah, me and a couple of the other boys–” Niall paused and threw a thumb back behind him. Joey peered around him as three of Niall’s friends that she had yet to meet, gave her a wave. “We’re just watin’ on Chris to be done and then we’re goin’ to some comedy place.”

Joey perched a hand on her hip, tipping her head to the side. “Oooh, that one place we went to?”

“No, no,” Niall said as he played with the fold of his short sleeve shirt that rested across one of his biceps, “it’s some other place that my friend, Evan here, likes to go to.”

“Oh okay.”

“That sounds like fun,” Ross interjected, both Joey and Niall shooting their attention over to him.

Niall pushed out a low snort before settling his gaze back to Joey. “Anyway, it was good to see ya, Jo,” he said, giving her a lopsided smirk. It made that damn flutter go off in her tummy and Joey sunk her teeth down into her bottom lip.

As her eyes darted over Niall’s, it quickly drew her in deeper and deeper, like a tangled tether that wouldn’t let her go as the space around them folded into a blur of static noise. It felt like a thousand years of his gaze on hers in that split second and it wasn’t until she felt the heat of a body step up behind her that she was able to knock herself free of the tempestuous hold of his stare and come back down to earth.

Joey shook her head, swallowing hard as Ross slid a hand around the small of her waist, clearly trying to lay his claim. “It was, uh, good to see you to, Niall,” Joey finally uttered, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear.

Niall threw her a subtle wink and turned towards the crowd, taking off with his friends in search of Chris. She held her view of him as long as she could, watching him weave around the other patrons of the restaurant until the soft dark of his hair could no longer be seen. No sooner had Niall vanished from Joey’s sight, Ross had spun her around within his arms and pushed his mouth to hers.

At first wanting to pull back, Joey quickly changed her mind and went with it, leaning into him and urging him to kiss her even harder. She knew this was yet another power move by Ross, knowing that he had felt somewhat threatened by Niall and the thought made her smile into the kiss. She quite liked that idea; that Niall could provoke such a reaction just by the way he looked at her and Joey reached up to cup around Ross’s jaw, nipping gently at his tongue before easing her lips away.

They spent the rest of the evening sipping away at a few more drinks and talking and laughing and Joey couldn’t argue the shift in Ross’ behavior. He seemed way more touchy, more possessive; his hands on her thigh, soft kisses on her lips for no reason other than there had been a break in Joey taking a sip of her drink. And while it felt a little on the strange side, a little too controlling for her liking, Joey decided to just go with the flow of it all.

By the time they had made it back to Joey’s apartment, they both had a good amount of alcohol in their systems, but Joey was definitely feeling it more. Her head was cloudy, her words slurred between her unstoppable giggles and she almost didn't register his mouth on hers the second they had stepped through her front door. But she let him kiss her. And she let him take off her dress. She let him pull her back into her bedroom. She let him suck at her neck and bite at the flesh of her breasts. She let him pull off her panties and slide his naked body between her legs. She let him enter her.

Her mind had gone numb, her skin dank and crawling with an influx of aberration as he started to move on top of her. She felt absolutely nothing as he worked above her; not an ignited spark of heat, not a heavy rush of passion, not a single ounce of pleasure, but she didn’t stop him. After a few minutes of him pushing inside her as his sweat dripped onto her exposed flesh, he had her flipped onto her stomach, Joey’s red hair plastered to her sticky face and her balled up fists tucked up by her head as her body fell limp.

Trying to make herself feel something, anything, she rolled her hips back towards him slightly. But all that did was make Ross push her face further into the mattress and thrust into her harder, so much that it had started to hurt and by the time Joey had squeezed her eyes closed under the protection of her crumpled duvet, it was over. An animalistic grunt barreled from his throat and greased the back of her neck, his heaving, drenched frame halting to a stop on top of her for only a moment before he hoisted himself off.

Joey released a long held breath, her eyes slowly peeling open to see the glow of the moon from her window shining on the wall behind the head of her bed. Uncurling her fingers, she softly brushed the hair away from the front of her face and rolled herself over. Grabbing a small throw blanket from the end of her bed, Joey bundled it over her exposed body and carefully sat herself up.

Rubbing at her eye, she could barely see in the dark of her bedroom the shadow of Ross getting dressed and she furrowed her brow and peaked around him, hearing the faint whines of Sadie at her closed bedroom door. “Are you leaving?” she asked him, Ross having yet to say a word to her.

“Yeah, I gotta get home,” he mumbled as he pulled on his shirt, “my girlfriend is getting back from San Antonio early in the morning.”

With her lips falling to a part, Joey shook her head as she wasn’t sure she had heard him correctly. “Excuse me, your...your what?”

He looked over at her through the tops of his eyes as he buckled up his belt. “My girlfriend,” he said, “she travels a lot for work, so I’m allowed to, ya know, sleep around. Have a little fun when she’s gone.”

“You’re...kidding me, right?” Joey said to him, a slight tremble in her voice.

Ross planted his hands on his hips in a chuckle. “No. You didn’t actually think this was a...thing, did you?” he asked her. Joey remained silent, her jaw hanging open as she stared at him in what one could only assume was complete shock. And embarrassment. “Oh...you did.”

Joey carded her fingers through her tangly red hair in a huff, wrapping the blanket tighter around her bare chest. “I can’t believe I just slept with you,” she began, her voice raising with each word that spit past her lips as her eyes darted across the floor at his feet. “You’re a total piece of shit!”

“Well, you’re an uptight bitch–”

“–and...and it wasn’t even good, what the fuck!”

“Yeah, well, fuck you, it’s not like I had much to work with!” he yelled back, snatching his dress shoes from the floor. “I can’t believe I wasted a whole ass month trying to get into your pants for that. Glad I’ve been getting laid on all the other nights ‘cause that was the worst fucking sex I’ve ever had to wait for.”

She gasped. “Right back at you, you cheating fucking dick!”

“Kiss my ass, Joey,” he sneered. “This is 2020, wake the fuck up and stop being such a prude.”

Sadie was full on barking and scratching at the bedroom door by that point and Joey slammed her hands to the bed beside her thighs in an agitated ‘humpfh’. She couldn’t even believe this was happening. “Just...just get the fuck out of my house!” she screamed at him.

“No fucking problem!”

Spinning around, he stepped over to her bedroom door and swung it open, Sadie going ballistic and growling at the man’s feet. “By the way,” he sniped as he paused in the doorway, “common decency is to at least shave your fucking pussy, ‘cause believe me, no one wants to know that the carpet matches the drapes.”

With her eyes going wide, Joey snatched one of her pillows that was beside her and threw it at him. “Get out!” she screamed at the top of her lungs as Sadie chased after Ross, barking at his heels until he had slammed her front door closed behind him.

Pushing a hand to her chest, she was struggling to breathe, like a thousand bricks were being piled on top of her one by one. Joey lowered her face into her open palms, attempting to pull in long deep breaths. She felt so gross, ashamed and violated and she fought to hold back her tears as she reached for her phone that was left on her bedside table.

She sniffled as she attempted to open her texts, her hands shaking nearly out of her control. Her glassy eyes scrolled over her messages, but she knew without a doubt who she was looking for. There was only one person she wanted, only one person she needed at that very moment and she sent him one simple text.

J: I need you. Please.

•

That was all it took.

Niall, with his heart pounding in his chest and a lump forming in the back of his throat, was at her place within 15 minutes. He walked in, immediately noticing the dress she had been wearing in a heap on the floor and was then greeted by Sadie, hopping at his leg. He bent over to give her a pet. “Where’s she at, Sadie, huh?” Niall said quietly, before the little dog took off running towards the bedroom.

Niall followed the pup and stopped at the cracked door to slowly push it open. His stare caught the sight of her, mussed up red hair and makeup smeared under her eyes, as she sat haphazardly at the edge of her bed. In the time it had taken Niall to get to her place, Joey had slipped on her panties along with a thin white camisole, the only thing covering her upper half. She had also managed to down about a ¼ bottle of gin, the same one that Niall could see still clutched tight in her hand. It seemed to be helping, but not nearly enough.

Her head teetered upwards to lock her stare on Niall as he shuffled quietly into the room. “Jesus, Jo, are you okay?” he asked, his tone soft.

She didn’t answer him, just faintly shook her head. Niall stepped over to the bed and eased himself down next to her. Staring at his lap, he picked at a tiny fuzz that was on his striped shorts before glancing over at Joey. The bottle of gin was pressed to her lips and she had her head tossed back as she took a big swig. “Jo…” he whispered, “what the hell happened?”

“He’s a fucking dick,” she declared as she brought the bottle back down and wiped her mouth with the back of her other hand. Moving her body to face Niall, she slid her one leg up onto the bed. “All men are fucking dicks!”

Reaching over to her, Niall softly brushed some matted hair off her forehead and away from her face. “Darlin’, are y'alright?”

She took another swig of gin. “Why did he do that to me?” she whined to Niall, tipping her head to the side. Her eyes were dark, wide and hopeless, her cheeks blotchy and flushed with what he could only assume was the abhorrent amount of alcohol swimming through her body and he furrowed his brows at her words, hooking a hand over his thigh.

“What’d he do? Did he fuckin’ force himself on ya?”

Joey noticed the aggravated rise in Niall’s voice and she shook her head. “No, no...it wasn’t like that, I wanted to have sex with him,” she started, her words slurring, “and we had sex, it just...it didn’t...feel right, ya know? The whole time it didn’t feel right.”

Niall swallowed hard as he listened. “I just wanted him to like me,” she went on, a slight break in her voice as she waved the bottle of gin in the air, “I wanted it to actually be something.”

“You can’t force somethin’ that’s not there, Jo,” Niall said, pushing out a breath.

“I know,” she softly whispered, her stare falling to the bend of her knee as she pinched at the skin. “It doesn’t really matter anyway ‘cause he has a girlfriend.”

Niall pulled his face in. “Jesus Christ, are ya kiddin’ me? You been datin’ that guy for a month!”

Joey peeked back at him. “Apparently she works out of town a lot,” she said with an eye roll, “and he is allowed to sleep with whoever he wants. And of course he didn’t tell me that until after I slept with him.”

Resting his elbow on his knee, Niall leaned over and ran his fingers up through his hair in a sigh. “I’m sorry, Jo.”

“I just feel so...stupid,” she said, Niall peering back over at her and noticing her chin begin to tremble. She had dragged her gaze away from his, staring out of the window on the adjacent wall. Niall could see the gleam of tears welling up in her eyes and Joey sniffled as she went on. “I feel so stupid and used and...gross and….no one is ever gonna want me. I’m-...I’m never gonna–”

Her words broke as she dropped her face into her hand in a full on sob. Pulling in a breath, Niall reached over and grabbed the bottle of gin from her, setting it down on the nightstand. He tugged the sad girl into a hug, wrapping his arms around her and cupping the back of her head, Joey tumbling her face into the crook of his neck as she cried. “Hey…hey, shush, love,” he mumbled out into her hair, “that’s not true, okay? You know that’s not true. That guy is a fuckin’ prick, he doesn’t mean shit.”

Joey pulled back slightly, her stare meeting Niall’s as his hands moved to cradle around her face. She sniffled, a few tears slipping down her cheeks and he used the pads of his thumbs to gently wipe them away. “Niall?”

“Yeah…”

“Can you lay in my bed with me?” Joey asked him, watching his blue eyes dart over hers as she let out a soft sigh. “Can you...just hold me? Please?”

Niall breathed out a half smile. “Yeah, petal,” he whispered, “I can do that.”

Joey gave him a slight nod as she started to scooch her body backwards up the bed. Niall quickly tossed off his shoes, and by the time she had situated herself under the covers, he was right in there next to her. They both rolled to their sides, facing each other and Joey moved her hair from off her neck as she shifted closer to Niall, using his one outstretched arm for a pillow as his other encompassed her curled up frame. Their faces sat merely an inch apart, their noses nearly touching and Joey pulled in a shaky breath, still settling herself from her tears.

Letting her stare glide over his, Joey bit at her bottom lip as she reached up with her fingertip and gently began to ghost along the side of his face. From his temple down to the arch of his jawline, her finger dragged over his soft warm skin tracing the faint shadow that was caused by the glowing moon. Niall kept his eyes glued to hers as he watched her follow her delicate movements, all the while his heart pounded wild in his chest. The room around them was still; silent as the dead of night like everything around them had vanished into the bottom of the dark sea and the only thing keeping them alive was the beating of their hearts and the tiny faint breaths of Joey that puffed out across his mouth.

A soft smile eased over her lips. “You’re so pretty,” she whispered.

His big hand gently pet down her hair as he gave her a low chuckle. “Not nearly as pretty as you.”

“I look like dog shit,” she commented under her breath, lightly rolling her eyes.

Niall smiled at her, his heavy lidded eyes locking with hers as his fingers twisted into the ends of her hair that rested at her upper back. “No, ya don’t.”

With her eyes falling closed in a smile, Joey nestled her body further into Niall, tucking her arms against his chest and burying her head into the crook of his neck. Her bare legs intertwined with his under the sheets, and Niall wrapped his arms fully around her barely covered frame, nuzzling his face against the top of her head. He slowly breathed in the sweet scent of her hair and it took him right back to one of the first times he had met her.

Swallowing hard, Joey eased into his warmth; his body thick and soft and melded around hers like a familiar quilt that you could bury yourself in on the darkest of days and it always left you feeling safe and calm. Niall made her feel secure, he made her feel comfortable as if he could protect her from anything. As if this was the place she was supposed to be. As if the world around her no longer mattered to him, only her.

“I’m so lucky to have you as a friend,” Joey hummed out, burrowing her face further into his neck.

Her words circled out around him like a storm cloud, yanking roughly at the strings of his heart and snatching it right from his chest. The way she felt for him, it would never match the way he felt for her. And no matter what he did, what he said to her, how she felt in his arms, he would not be able to change that. And it broke his heart into a million pieces.

Pulling in a deep steadying breath, his eyes fell closed. Niall licked across his lips and tried with all he had in him to tame the wobble of his chin as he tugged Joey closer into him. He held her tighter, he breathed her in deeper, his skin soaking her in as his body felt her harder because he knew, with all certainty, it would be the last time he ever got the chance.

And it wasn’t long before they had both fallen into a deep, much needed sleep.

•

The sun rose early that next morning, beaming in through Joey’s bedroom window and waking up Niall. His blue eyes blinked through the brightness, his head turning to the side as he reached up with his hand to rub the sleep away. He was on his back; Joey still asleep and nestled against him with her head laying on his chest and Niall peeked down at her. The side of her face was mushed into the fabric of his shirt, little melodic exhales pushing past her pouty lips and using his hand that was holding onto her, he very softly brushed her hair away from her temple. Her cheeks were ruddy, her lips a bit dry and she still had a bit of makeup smeared under her eyes, but as Niall stared down at the girl that was in his arms and wrapped around his body, he couldn’t help but think about how undeniably beautiful she was. And how he wanted to stay like that forever with her.

But he knew he couldn’t. And he knew that was beyond anything she wanted from him.

So he picked his head up off the pillow and gently pushed a kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering slightly before he carefully shifted her head off his chest and down into the mattress next to him. Easing himself up off the bed, and moving around Sadie who was curled up at the end, Niall was vigilant with keeping his motions slow and quiet so as to not wake her up, knowing she needed her rest after the night she had dealt with. Grabbing his shoes from the floor next to her bed, he started to tiptoe out of the room.

Pausing just at the threshold of the doorway, Niall turned to glance at her one more time as he slipped on his shoes. His stare trailed her body, watching her chest rise and fall with her subdued breaths and seeing the glisten of the morning sun on her skin.

His heart could not have sank anymore.

Roughing his hands through the sides of his hair, Niall sighed and eased the door closed to barely a crack as he left the room. He had just made it to her front door when he heard the patter of little feet come up behind him. Peering down over his shoulder, he was met with a cheery Sadie, who was hopping up to request a pet. Niall breathed out a chuckle and bent down to oblige the tiny pup.

He gently scruffed up her head. “If only your mommy felt about me, the way I feel about her,” Niall quietly confided into the little dog, her big brown eyes pinching closed in contentment. “You be a good girl now, Sadie.”

Standing back up, Niall rolled his lips into his mouth as he stared down at her. After another brief moment, he stepped out of Joey’s apartment, leaving Sadie sitting at the closed door and whining out for him.

#niall #niall horan #niall fic #niall fanfic #niall fan fic #niall smut #niall ou #slowburn #tdg #chap 7 #um........please dont yell at me lmao #👀#aNYWAY i hope you enjoy this chapter #please read and share #and let me know what you think!!!

63 notes · View notes

miaa4tez · 5 years ago

Text

Season 3, Episode 1 or so help me god... Also available on AO3.

Finally // beautiful stranger

He sort of thought she’d maybe... say something, after everything. He’d walked home that night a bundle of uncertainty and self-doubt, but for the first time, he actually felt a bit hopeful. He and Maeve couldn’t seem to stop missing one another, and he was damn near determined that this time, it’d be different.

But then the weekend came and went, and he hadn’t heard from her once, and he found himself growing more self-conscious by the second. Had he been too late? Did he miss his chance for real this time? Was she really... over him?

He nearly races to school come Monday morning, a ball of nerves and pent up energy. He tries being happy for Eric as he recounts endless details about his weekend with Adam, really he does, but all he could think is whether Maeve had truly heard his confession of love and felt... nothing. That might just be the thing to do him in for good.

It takes him a few laps through the school but he finally finds her in the library, a book perched on her lap and her thumbnail between her teeth. He nearly loses his nerve, can’t help but stare at her like this for a moment - unguarded, serene - but then he reminds himself that he’s done being an asshole, damnit, and pushes forward.

“Um, Maeve?” Fucking loser. Man up.

He sees her jaw clench, her teeth biting the inside of her cheek, her eyes shut briefly before she flips a page. He hates that he elicits that response from her now. “Studying, dickhead.”

He watches her swallow and her eyes seem to be going over the same line over and over.

He clenches his hands at his side. “Can we talk?” He unclenches his fists, stretches them in the silence. “Please.”

She’s so good at masking her emotions, but he catches a slight hitch as she clears her throat, shuts her book with a definitive thud and stands abruptly. She meets his eyes, cool and steady, and he feels himself shrink under the weight of her gaze. “I’ve got to get to class.”

She pushes past him then, out the door, and for a moment he considers letting her go. Surely she deserves better than him, better than the hurt he’s caused her. But then he spies her jacket left dangling over the couch and his body is moving without his consent.

“Look I know I said some stupid things but I really think we ought to talk it out so I could tell you how sorry I am,” he pleads, her jacket draped across his arm as he strides behind her.

She speeds up, forcing him to trail after her. “Not much to talk about then, is there? You’re sorry, so that’s it. We’re good then.” She bites the corner of her thumb, refusing to turn and face him as she weaves through the halls.

“Well I just thought...” He stops short. What did he think, really? “I hadn’t heard from you this weekend,” he mutters instead.

She stops in front of her locker, flicks her eyes to his briefly, searching. He lamely extends her jacket to her and she snags it from him a touch too harsh. “Yeah well. I’ve been busy. Not everything is about you, you know.”

He buries his hands deep in his jacket pockets. He’s a little ashamed it’s taken him this long to congratulate her. “Yeah, no, of course. Sorry. Congratulations, by the way. I saw you on TV.”

The corner of her mouth turns up in the barest hint of a smile, but she ignores his attempt to meet her eyes and reaches for her Maths book. “Right. Well it wasn’t just me.”

“You should be proud of yourself, Maeve. They couldn’t have done it without you.”

If he’s thawing her at all, she won’t let on. She bites her bottom lip anxiously and slams her locker in a hurry, but he presses on, hands extending then retracting back to his pockets.

“And I just thought we could clear the air, you know. Be friends again?... I’d really like to be your friend again, Maeve. At least.” He shakes his head. This isn’t going well. “I’ve let you down and I know that. And I understand if you didn’t lis-“

“Otis.” She interrupts him, exhaling his name almost as if she’s got no energy left. He sucks in a breath and looks at her. Sees the hurt swimming in her eyes. “Forget it, okay? We’ve tried being friends but all we do is hurt one another.” She wraps her arms tight around herself, her eyes boring holes into her shoes. “I’ve got enough people in my life to hurt me. I don’t need another.”

She meets his eyes then and he couldn’t save this if he tried. He opens his mouth anyway - foolishly - but whatever he intended to say is drowned out by the class bell.

Her eyes flicker to his once more - pleading him to fight back? Maybe, but she’s pushed past him and out of sight before he can find the words.

...

She’s basically a ghost for the rest of the week, slipping through the halls in silence and keeping her eyes to the ground. She‘s forgotten how easy it was to go unnoticed in this school, and she both loves and hates how easily she slips back into it. Fleetingly she thinks that she hasn’t seen Otis once, even from the corner of her eye, and it’s not like she cares or anything - she hardly noticed, really, fuck off - but the clinic has been almost nonexistent and she’s got rent due Monday and this spat between them is really fucking with her source of income.

By Friday she’s said maybe ten words total to another human being (three of which being “Piss off, Isaac” when the wanker insisted on perching himself at her doorstep after she refused to answer his calls), but she found herself somewhat comforted by still having people around her. The fact is she hates the idea of going home to an empty trailer almost as much as she doesn’t want to be at school, so she sucks it up and makes plans to ask Aimee if they can walk home together. Thinks maybe she can spend the night there if she asks, too. God, she hates asking for things.

It’s not just Otis she’s avoiding. It’s everything. Her mom, her shitty fucking luck, the reality that of all the Quizheads, she’s least likely to get a full ride scholarship to Uni even though that’s the only way she can realistically afford to go. She knows she‘s destined for more than a shit job at the mall and a double wide with no heat, but she’s certain she was born in the wrong dimension, because in this one life is determined to fuck her over.

Her mind is a tangle of self-doubt but she’s trying her fucking damnedest to silence it all as she waits for Aimee by the school’s entrance, perched against a tree and attempting to focus on Silas Marner - she finds it far superior and the more relatable of George Eliot’s works, no wonder it took her so long to finish Middlemarch - but she’s been standing here for over an hour and Aimee is nowhere to be found. In fact, the front lawn is basically empty aside from a couple stoners and some horny couple grinding on a bench in the corner. She checks her phone, shoots a text to Aimee, waits five minutes for the three dots to pop up and when the message comes through, she feels her heart fall to her feet.

Steve wants to try hugging. Raincheck?

The sun is setting as she walks home alone, a crisp in the air that wasn’t there last week, and she’s trying to match her steps to her heartbeats but it’s proving harder than she’d like. Who says her breathing’s more ragged than usual? Sod off.

She wishes she hadn’t lent Erin her headphones - she’ll never see those again either - because she could really use something right now to drown out her racing thoughts. She focuses instead on the faded crescent moon rising in the sky, and by the time she walks onto the lot the sky is dark and the only thing she wants is to curl into a ball in her bed and not leave until Monday morning.

She sees the bag from far away, hanging from the door handle of her trailer. She looks left and right on impulse, wonders if it was Isaac before she feels certain it wasn’t. If her steps quicken, she’ll never admit to it.

She snags the bag quickly and slams the door behind her, fingers itching to find out what’s inside. Her hand wraps around a binder and she pulls it out slowly, suddenly nervous. A note flutters out with it and falls to her feet, and her jaw clenches as she recognizes the familiar scrawl.

You deserve better than all of us.

She stares at the message a moment more because she collapses into a seat at the table, binder spread out before her. She opens the first page and her throat tickles with the emotion of it all.

It’s a collection of paperwork, brochures and articles and informational pamphlets. Schools she mentioned, universities she’s named in passing conversations when she thought they were just killing time before his next session. He compiled them all by the areas of study she might be most interested, and she smirks despite herself that each school is color coded. He’d always busted her for organizing the clinic schedule like that. He’s even taken the time to highlight new places she hasn’t considered, places that offer creative writing programs and financial scholarships for independents.

She feels the smile on her lips but it’s like her brain catches up, stunned for a moment by the gesture, and she’s suddenly furious.

Who does he think he is? He doesn’t know what she needs, what she wants, what’s best for her. All he’s done since he came into her life was cause her pain, and now he’s trying to be some fucking savior for her? She snags a sweater strewn over the couch and is out the door before she even knows where she’s going. All she knows is that he doesn’t get to make some grand gesture and have her forgive him. It’s bullshit. She’s going to storm over there and tell him exactly where he can shove his fucking charity. He’s -

-standing in the middle of the bridge. Waiting for her.

Her breath catches in her throat and she absently notes that he looks terrified. There are so many things she wants to spit at him but for some reason she can’t find words just yet. He shocks her by speaking first.

“I didn’t want you to have to come all the way to me again,” he shrugs, the corner of his lip curling up just slightly.

She crosses her arms quickly, petulant as a child as she scoffs at him. But despite herself, she feels lighter standing before him. Damn it all to hell. “How’d you know I’d even come to you?” She’s trying for offhanded but knows she doesn’t manage it.

He scratches his ear and looks to his shoes. “I didn’t?” He has the decency to sound sheepish. “I figured I’d give it an hour or so and see if you called maybe.”

“Oh, only an hour then?” She deadpans. She gets way too much satisfaction from his rosy cheeks.

He cocks his head just so, offering her a half smile. “Maybe two,” he relents.

She feels her mouth pulling into a grin but she bites the inside of her cheek before it erupts. Instead she nods once and wrings her hands together by her chest. The silence sits between them and it’s colder out here than it was an hour ago.

“I’m sorry,” she hears him breath, and he must realize how quiet he said it because he clears his throat and meets her eyes. “I’m really sorry.” Louder this time, more conviction.

She can see the sincerity in his eyes and he always did know how to get to her. She nods this time, her mouth twisting in a wry smirk. “Yeah you should be,” she jokes, but it doesn’t feel much like a joke once it’s out of her mouth, and she feels the frustration seep back in. “You know, you can’t go around trying to manipulate me by doing something nice. Doesn’t work like that. You’re not charming, you know.”

Otis blinks. “Is that what you were coming to tell me?”

“What?”

“You were headed to my house, weren’t you? Was that what you were going to say?”

Her eyes widen, indignant, and the anger mounts. “Yes,” she demands. “You can’t just hurt me and expect it to all be okay just like that. It’s not. I trusted you, Otis, and you let me down. Everyone else is shit but I never thought you’d...” her voice catches and a small sob fills her chest but she won’t let it out. Refuses. Instead she stops, catching her breath and turning her head to the side as angry tears threaten to pour over. She digs a nail into her palm to stop them. She won’t let him do this to her again.

He takes a tentative step forward and reaches out for her slightly, and she finds great satisfaction when he retracts his hand, until she follows his gaze and realizes he must notice that she’s wearing his sweater. Shit.

It seems to embolden him though and he looks to her again. “I know, and Maeve, I know I hurt you and I was a dickhead -“

“Massive dickhead,” she elaborates.

“But I don’t think it’s all my fault.” He finishes.

She’s certain she heard him wrong.

“Excuse me?” She gapes, incredulous.

“We’ve been tiptoeing around each other for months,” Otis argues, arms up for emphasis. “All year, really. And then Jackson -

“Are you seriously turning this around on me?” She can’t believe him.

“No but -

“‘Cause it sounds like you are -“

“I’m not!” He insists. “It’s just that...you’re you! And I’m ME and, and we were friends. Such good friends, Maeve, and then you... And it just made me so angry that you didn’t tell me you liked me until things with Ola.... it’s just... I had no idea someone like you could have possibly liked someone like me.”

Her nostrils flare with her anger and she’s trying not to strangle him right this instant. She’s not sure if it’s because he doubted her or that he’s so fucking sure he’s right (and so what if he is a little?) “Right well it’s probably for the best you didn’t know. I’m the most selfish person you know, after all.”

He sighs loudly. “Maeve, of course I didn’t mean that.“

“It sounded like you did,” she quips.

“I was so drunk. I ate a whole roast chicken that night! And I was confused and I was trying to hurt you like I was hurting when of course you didn’t deserve it.”

He’s got her there.

She sniffles and crosses her arms, choosing to count the railings on the bridge rather than meet his eyes.

He sighs and reaches toward her, palms open. “I know I can’t take back what I did. And I know things are still broken between us. But... I like you, Maeve. I really, really like you.”

She looks up then, against her own will honestly, but he’s got his eyes closed. Either because he can’t look at her either or he’s mustering up the courage, she can’t be sure.

He rubs a hand over his face and chuckles ironically. “Hell I think I even love you. You’re brave and you’re resilient and you’re honest and you’re good. Life should have taken you out dozens of times already but you never let it. You’re too good for every fucking one of us and we just keep letting you down over and over. But I want to be there for you. I want to be the one you turn to. I don’t want you to feel alone or scared or hurt. And I hate that I’ve already done all those things but if you let me, if you give me a chance, I promise I won’t hurt you again. And I know, I know so many people have said that to you before, but I’m going to prove it. You don’t have to believe me, but let me prove it to you. Please. I -“

She’s not sure at what point in his speech her arms drop to her sides, when her brow smooths and her gaze softens and her lip drops just slightly. She feels the heat pool in her chest, warm and bubbling and even a little uncomfortable, blooming its way up her neck to her cheeks and face. And in her haze she really can’t remember when she steps forward and brings her mouth to his, soft but hard all at once, but she knows when she does that she’s never quite had a kiss like this in her life.

That is, because he doesn’t quite kiss her back.

Her lips are tingling but his body is like a statue before her, and she’s sure he’s unconscious but she can feel his heart thrumming beneath her hands atop his chest, and has she killed him? She pulls back slightly, exhaling a harsh breath, not daring to meet his eyes but seemingly incapable of putting more than an inch of distance between them. The barrier’s been broken now and she finds she’s never been warmer in her whole life. She’s about to say something, anything really, when his hands come up to cup her cheeks, coaxing her to look him in the eyes. Nerves grasp her now - it was so impulsive, she didn’t give it a second of thought before - but she has no time for them. She hears him swallow just as he pinches her chin and brings her mouth to his once more, and this is what their first kiss should have been. His lips are tender on hers and she wants to be closer to him all at once, so she wraps her arms around his waist and opens her mouth, feeling his breath on her tongue before his follows along. She was sure he’d be timid but it’s like his body is reacting all on its own, and she can’t help herself. Her lips curl into a smile against his mouth, and she nearly melts into a puddle when his thumb comes to the corner of her lip, the pad of his finger tracing the outline of her smile.

When they properly pull back for a breath, she can feel his eyes on her, blue crystals boring into her soul, and for the life of her she has no idea why she meets his gaze. She wants to look away but somehow she can’t, and he’s smiling at her and by God if she’s not absolutely fucking in love with this dickhead.

“You kissed me.” He tucks her hair behind her ear as he says it and she hates him even more. Her life will never be just hers again.

She licks her lips. “Tell anyone about this and I’ll bite your dick off. Okay mouth breather?” There isn’t the slightest trace of malice in her voice. It’s barely above a whisper.

Otis nods once, brow creased in mock seriousness. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I’m still angry at you,” she murmurs, eyes fixated on his bottom lip as she grips the ends of his shirt tighter.

He swallows hard and nods. “I know. I’m still angry with me too.”

She wants to keep the banter going but she’s got no fight in her, just butterflies wrecking havoc on her stomach and fire in her cheeks. She can’t stop staring at his lips - it’s like he’s cast a spell on her or something - and then she remembers she can do it again if she wants. This is going to be a real problem, she can tell. She’s on her tiptoes when he seems to remember the same thing, and he’s wearing the goofiest smile when he brings her face to his and leans down to kiss her again.

(It might take him a few hours to calm her down after he tells her about the missing voicemail - she could fucking murder Isaac - but he quickly finds exactly how to shut her up. If they don’t sleep that night, it’s entirely his fault.)

...

Note: this was shit but I wrote it in the notes on my phone because please let them be together next season PLEASE. It’s my first tumbler post too so sorry the format is weird as shit.

#fanfic #otis and maeve #sex education #otis x maeve #otis milburn #maeve wiley #emma mackey #sex ed s2 #sex ed netflix #asa butterfield

127 notes · View notes

kweebtrash · 5 years ago

Text

hate u love u (M)

Messy After Story

Pairing(s): OC X Johnny

Genre: College AU, Fuckboy AU, Smut, ANGST

Summary: Fuckboys are basically good for one thing. You hit it and quit it- except when his voice draws you in, his body keeps you there, and dumb ass feelings linger making things particularly messy.

Warnings: really sad fucking shit, talks about suicide attempts, drug addiction, alcoholism, talks about death, jealousy and insecurities

Features: contraceptives, smidge of a size kink, grinding, face riding & face fucking, sex tapes, choking, sex toys, anal fingering/fucking, thigh grinding, double penetration, creampies, rough fucking, trying some new shit and being kinda awkward and weird but also having some kind of slutty conversations

Word Count: 17.6k

A/N: ok this is the last one I promise😉 this is really fucking angsty and I teared up at some parts writing it so sorry in advance. Also there's a lot of smut. Like 6.5k worth of smut/smutty conversations. Also, i’m going to edit this in a little while so don’t @ me if you see mistakes. I’m gonna fix them probs tomorrow. I’m just tired.

Messy Masterlist Other Stories Johnny Only Masterlist

I didn't talk to him. For weeks. I couldn't. I was so angry. So hurt. So devastated. He didn't tell me where he applied to, must have been because he was running around so much for his gallery and all that shit. But a fucking heads up would have been nice. I didn't see him off at the airport. I tossed his shit in a box and kicked it to the back of my closet. I cried. I screamed. And at last it wasn't anger anymore. It was hurt. It was pain. It was missing him every. Single. Night. The pain was beginning to swallow me whole and I had no idea what else I should do, or could do. He was halfway across the country and I wasn't in his arms anymore. My pillows were tear stained, my floor covered in snot filled tissues, leftover wrappers, and dirty clothes. Everything was harder without him.

I sat cross legged in the middle of my bed as I chewed on my thumbnail and stared at my phone in front of me. I had reopened all the unanswered texts he had sent me. The "baby, please talk to me," the "baby, I'm sorry," the "princess, daddy needs you. Please." I couldn't cope enough to give him an answer. But now...now I felt too empty. I snatched my phone and dialed his number. My heart pounded so hard in my chest that I could feel the blood rushing to my ears. It went to voicemail. I dropped my phone and covered my face, preparing for another round of tears. My phone vibrated against my leg and I saw his number flash across the screen. I answered it instantly and for the first time in a long time I heard his sweet deep voice. It felt like a warm blanket had been wrapped around me and I sighed.

"Eri." He said sharply.

The blanket disappeared. "H-hi…"

I heard him chewing on something then swallowing. "What?"

"What do you mean what?"

"Why are you calling me?"

"I can call my boyfriend, can't i?"

"Am I your boyfriend?" The questioned stunned me. Of course he was. Why wouldn't he be? We didn't break up we just…

"Y-yes?" My voice trembled. "Yes. Yes, you are."

"Hmm." He chewed again. "Didn't feel like I was."

"I was...upset."

"Yeah, no shit."

I wanted to fucking cry. He didn't even seem to care at all. "I m-miss you. A lot. And I...I wanted to see how you were doing."

"Oh, now you want to?" I heard him cover the phone and call out to someone, though it was all muffled. "You can do it only at your convenience?"

"I just want to see you. Can I see you?"

"You're gonna fly here? And who's gonna pay for that shit? You're gonna make Quinn do it?"

The tears started to fall again, as quick as a waterfall in a rainforest. "N-n-no. I can do-do it on my own. Do you want me t-there?"

"You're crying."

I stopped talking for a moment, knowing that my voice was going to jump a few octaves and turn into an indecipherable squeak.

"Eri."

"Y-yeah?" I sniffled and wiped my nose with my shirt sleeve. Now it was his turn to stay quiet, save for his fucking chewing. "What in God's name are you eating right now?"

"Shrooms." He swallowed.

What? Like…? "You mean-?"

"Yeah, so anyway, I don't know if you should come here, you know? Seeing as how you didn't talk to me for basically a month and now you're thinking it's okay to call me in the middle of a party and make me feel a bunch of shit. That's pretty cool right? That's pretty fun, right? I'm gonna hang up now."

The line went silent and so did my entire world.

I pretended to smile when I was around Quinn. I pretended that I was supportive of Johnny and so happy for him. I only cried when they were over at Jae's house. I hadn't let them in my room and see what a disaster it was. It was closed at all times. I tried my best to keep up my facade and hoped that Johnny had too. If Jae knew anything it would fuck everything up and all would have been for naught. I didn't know how to ask him or if I really even should. Maybe I was keeping up this glamour for myself. So I could pretend that everything was fine and lie to myself instead of Quinn. Maybe it was all for the sake of my sanity.

I had found a slightly better job and quit the Italian restaurant. This one paid more and all I had to do was sit as a desk and listen to people complain about their orders and why it wasn't there on time. It was annoying to take so many calls a day and even worse for my fucking mood disorder. Hearing these people whine fucking drove me up the wall and I chain smoked every lunch break to try and keep it together. I couldn't lose this job. Because it paid so much more than I was used to I was finally able to set money aside. My savings account was looking pretty decent and that was why I wanted to go see him. I could afford to and maybe we could talk it out.

I was on my fourth cigarette since I got home and a quarter into my bottle of bourbon when I got a call. I wasn't really paying attention to who it was, i just answered when I heard the buzzing. "Yeah?"

"Hey."

It was him. I fumbled and almost spilled my paint cup that was filled with swirls of reds and purples. I managed to stop it from falling over and ruining the current piece I was working on. I kicked the canvas away gently and wiped my hands on my already paint covered thighs. "U-uh...um...h-hi."

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing, just uh…" I swayed a little and leaned back against my bed to support myself. I was starting to get the spins. "Just chilling in my room. Why?"

"Talk to me."

"Are you high?"

"Not right now, no." His voice sounded raspy, as if he had just woken up.

"Where are you?"

"My bed. Where are you? Oh...wait. You already said that."

"Are you ok?" I asked.

"Are you?"

"No."

"Me either."

He cleared his throat. "'m sorry about last night. I was at a party and-"

"Since when have you started doing other drugs?"

"Hm? Oh...I mean...it wasn't the first time. I've done it before."

"And you never told me?"

"It was before we met. Don't worry about it. You still drinking?"

"Yeah, I'm still fucking drinking." I scoffed.

"I know. I can hear it in your voice. You're getting there."

"Yeah, well...shit happens."

"You really want to come here?"

"Do you really want me there?"

He took a deep breath and went silent again. "Yes."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"I can be there. I can ask for time off. I have enough vacation time."

"Come here. Come to me. Be in my arms. Be on top of me..." He exhaled slowly. "Kiss me."

"It still hurts Johnny."

"I fucking know that already. Trust me."

"Have you told Jae about what's going on with us?"

"No, not really. Told him I've been busy. That I love him. That kind of stuff."

"I haven't told Quinn. I kinda just...pretend."

"You always pretend."

"And you don't?" I snapped

"Of course I do." He chuckled. "We always pretend that everything's okay. And that's when we tip back a drink or smoke and destroy ourselves together. Don't you remember? That night after we fucked...we just sat against the wall of the bedroom and drank half a bottle of whiskey and just laughed about shit. I got high and you smoked like half a pack. And then I ate you out so good you came twice."

I pulled my knees to my chest and buried my face in them. I hadn't expected him to say that, to bring that up. "I laughed so hard and cried until I had a mental breakdown."

"Yup. And what did we do after?"

"You wiped my tears and fucked me again and I held onto you so fucking tight because I didn't want you to let me go."

"I remember the scratches. Those weren't orgasmic scratches. Those were in pain scratches."

"I know." I sniffled and punched the side of my thigh over and over so I could redirect my thoughts to not crying.

"Come here. I want to have another night like that with you."

"That was a bad night Johnny…"

"It was and it wasn't. The bad stuff makes us closer and we understand each other better."

"I don't want a bad night. I want a good night. I want only good night's with you."

"We'll have good night's. We will. We'll talk about shit...that's what you want right?" He asked.

"You need to want it to johnny!"

"I do want it! Don't fucking yell at me! I mean I'm fucking asking you to come here. What else do you think I want?"

"Fine, I'll fucking get a ticket tonight and I'll go for like a week."

"Fine. Fucking sounds good to me."

"Fine!" What the hell was happening? We're we mad about seeing each other or not? I laid down on the floor and set the phone down, putting it on speaker. My head was hurting so much and now I had to ask for time off and plan everything by myself. "Can I come at any time or do you have to ask for time off?"

"I can get a couple days off. The rest I might have to work but you can sleep in and I'll be back by the time you wake up. Maybe come on a Thursday and leave on a Wednesday? I don't work weekends unless there's an event and I don't have a weekend event for a bit."

"Ok, I'll ask my job and I'll buy the ticket as soon as I know."

"'mmkay. Sounds good."

We were quiet again and I hated it. "I guess I'll talk to you later." I said, bitterly.

"Okay...if you wanna. I love you, yeah?"

It was the first time I had heard him say it in a long time and it made my heart clench and I started crying again. Goddammit, I could fill a fucking ocean with how much i cried for this man. I went back to hitting my thigh to try and distract myself from it. "I love you too."

"Do you want to...stay on the phone with me, maybe? I haven't heard what's going on with you. You haven't really posted on IG or anything in awhile."

"I don't want people to really look into my life right now. I've been kind of a recluse… You're...partying I guess."

"Ehh, kind of. Every once in awhile. I still have to keep my job right?" He chuckled. "It's been um...really rough without you."

"Yeah I...we...yeah…" He cleared his throat again and I heard him sniff a bit. "Johnny don't you dare."

I heard his voice crack and that was the end. We were two fucking cry babies thousands of miles away from each other and wanting to give up everything just to be together. I wanted to make it work with him. I loved him too damn much to give up now.

I was nervous when I stepped out of the airport. California had a weird vibe to it and I wasn't sure if I liked it or not yet. I could deal with cities, hell I lived in one for like half my life, but this was weird, even for just an airport. I looked around trying to find Johnny from the directions he had texted me. I felt so lost and was ready to call him until I saw him looking around as well. "Johnny!"

His head whipped around and a big smile beamed on his face. I ran to him, almost dropping my luggage because I really didn't care anymore. I just wanted him. He gave me a monstrous hug and spun me around, squeezing me as tight as he could. I almost couldn't breathe. His arms felt so much stronger, especially when I grabbed onto his biceps.

He set me down and cupped my face to kiss me hard, before I could even say anything. I had almost forgotten how warm and soft his lips were and definitely got harshly reminded of how much his tongue filled my mouth. Jesus...why did he feel so much bigger? "A-ahmm...j-johnny u-um…"

"Hmm?" His hands were already grabbing at my hips and I pawed him away.

"We're in public, you slut."

"Sorry, sorry. I couldn't help it. You-" He stopped mid sentence and looked me over. I stood up a bit straighter unsure of what he was looking for

"What?"

"You're skinny."

"Excuse me?"

"Like skinnier. You were kinda chubby before I left."

"EXCUSE ME?!"

"No! I mean, like, it's not a bad thing I just-! Like you look hot! I mean you looked hot before too but-"

"Stop fucking talking before I get on that plane and go right the fuck home." I growled.

"Ugh, I'm sorry. That came out all wrong. What I meant to say was that...you look beautiful."

"Yeah that better be what you meant to say, asshole." I punched his arm but shook my knuckles out immediately after. Why was it so damn hard? Now it was my turn to give him the once over and I realized he was bigger. Definitely more filled out and muscular. His pants were straining at his thighs, like usual but even more so. His arms were more defined and he looked like he could throw me against a wall and I would say thank you. I could clearly see the veins in his arms and I was ready to die right there. "O-oh…" was all I managed to squeak out.

"What? Wait are you checking me out now?" He laughed. "You think I'm fat?"

"No…" I shifted, a bit self conscious of myself now. "You're hot, like always." How many girls had tried to hit on him since he moved here? Ugh, I never thought of something like that before. I wasn't really the jealous type...was I? Well...maybe a little.

He picked up my luggage and put an arm around my shoulders. "Cmon, we've got to check into the hotel."

"Hotel? Why aren't we just staying at your place?" I asked.

"Uh...well...I just wanted it to be special you know? Just me and you."

"Oh you have roommates?"

"Sorta…"

Suddenly I was staring in front of an ugly ass blue van with rust stains on the bottom and scratches along the doors. I was even more surprised when Johnny shoved a key into the lock and slid back the door. I peeked in as he set my luggage behind the passenger seat and saw a mattress in the back, a tension rod holding his clothes up on the opposite door and all his tech stuff hidden beneath the back seat. Curtains covered most of the windows and there was a huge bag of laundry behind the driver's seat. "Ready?" He asked.

I looked at the van then at him then at the van again. "Are you living out of your fucking car?"

"No, well...yes and no. Not entirely. Rent here is kind of ridiculous and I promised jae I would still pay my half of the rent for the apartment while I was gone. So I pay for that, the car, the insurance, my gym membership so I can work out and get ready in the morning there, and then sometimes I stay at my friend's place when I need to cook or do laundry. Hence the...hotel." He cleared his throat and shut the door quickly. "Well, let's get in."

I couldn't believe this. He went all the way to California for this?? What the absolute fuck? He opened the door for me and I stepped in without another word because I knew that if I talked I would say something I would regret. He got into the driver's seat and cut the engine on, leaving a trail of exhaust fumes behind us. He held my hand and stroked his thumb across the back of it, still smiling as he drove "Are you hungry?"

"No, not right now. Maybe we can order something later? I'm a bit jetlagged." I lied.

"Yeah, whatever my princess wants."

I felt my cheeks flush a bit when I heard him say that. It was different in person than over text and it still made me shiver. I looked over at him as he drove one handed. He was still so heart stoppingly gorgeous and even though I had a bunch of questions and irritations about the van I realized that wasn't what was important right now. I was with my Johnny and we were trying to make things right again. That was what was most important. I gave his hand a squeeze and closed my eyes, letting him take us to where we needed to go. When we got to the "hotel" however, I found that it was just a generic motel chain and not anything remotely nicer. It was a bit of a let down and I tried not to be too materialistic but damn if I didn't want this to be a little more special. He opened the door for me and got my luggage out. We went to our room which was just a small ways from the car. The inside was plain, brown, white sheets on the bed. Nothing spectacular. He went back to get his own bag and lock the car before both of us were in the room, alone at last.

I kicked off my wedges and sat on the bed which seemed a little too hard for my liking. We were quiet for a moment. I was too busy staring at my feet dangling off the bed to notice that he was now in front of me, pushing me down gently and crawling on top of me. "Hey." He whispered as he pushed my hair back and ran his fingers down the side of my face.

"H-hi." I looked at him then drove my eyes away.

"Do you want to kiss me?"

"I want to do a lot of things to you." I confessed.

"Oh yeah? Like what?" He teased before placing soft pecks against my lips. "Tell me."

"Um...can I just go freshen up a bit?" I squirmed away from him and wiggled myself off the bed.

"Um...ok. Are you alright? Do you not want to?" He reached his hand out to me and I just patted it awkwardly.

"No I do I just...give me a couple minutes, ok?"

"Sure, babe…"

I grabbed my luggage and sped to the bathroom, almost a hyperventilating mess. I was so nervous! Why the fuck was I nervous? He's my boyfriend. He's seen me every which way. He's put me in all sorts of positions. We've made so many messes and yet...my stomach was churning and I was getting butterflies just thinking about him being so much bigger than I was and looking down at me. It just reminded me of our first hookup almost an entire year ago. Jesus, we had known each other for a year? I took a deep breath and looked at myself in the mirror. Ok, just...get ready for a sexy night like normal. You can do this Eri.

I took a quick shower, washing just the important parts and making sure not to get water on my face. I didn't want to do my entire makeup look all over again. Once I was done I brushed my teeth, reapplied some of my makeup and made sure I smelled like a yummy dessert with the perfume and lotion I put on. I was constantly wondering if I was doing too much but it was whatever. I was going to make sure he was reminded of what had been waiting for him back home. I slipped on my new half shelf bra that barely held me in and his favorite garter and thigh high set that had to be washed so many times because of how much he came on them. I gave myself the once over and made sure I looked ok before cracking the door open slightly.

He had pulled his shirt over his head and I could see every dip and ripple of his back muscles as he worked to undo his belt and shuffle his jeans down. I had to squint just to be sure but it looked like he was wearing red silk boxers. This whole nerd. I fussed over myself one last time before opening the door completely. I had expected him to still be standing but he was sprawled out in some cheesy "sexy" pose with a plastic rose in his mouth until his jaw dropped. "Oh my god, what are you doing, you dork?! Where's you get that flower from?"

He spit and wiped his mouth. "It was in the vase over there. I think it had dust on it. I didn't realize and...wow."

"Why are you such a dummy?" I crawled onto the bed and sat beside him, blushing still. "So...what do you think?"

"I can't think. What is thinking? Boobs." He made no point in hiding his staring.

I shoved his head away playfully. "Idiot. Yes, my boobs are here for you to look at."

"Touch."

"Yes, that too. Oh my god." I grabbed him by his chin and tilted his head up for a kiss. "I missed how much you make me laugh."

"I missed…" He grabbed my thighs and pulled them from beneath me so he could take his place above me again once I fell onto my back. His hands joined mine and pinned them beside my head. "Everything about you."

"I have a few rules for tonight."

"Oh? Is there something you don't wanna do?"

"The opposite. Your rules are that you have to make me squirt, you have to choke me, you have to let me ride your face, you have to AT LEAST finger my ass, and if you do all that you can cum in me every time."

His eyes went wide. "Ev-every time? You'd let me do that?"

"Yeah, I took some extra precautions."

"Like what?"

"Well one, I just got my new birth control implant in so my arm doesn't fucking hurt anymore and two I got spermicide film."

"Yah what?"

I rolled my eyes. "Basically it's something I put on the inside and it kills the sperm on contact. So no cretins running around. We just have to wait a bit for it to dissolve but that's what foreplay is for, right?"

"Mhmm…" He licked his lips and started pressing kisses down my neck. "You're fucking amazing. I can't wait to fill you up so damn good."

"Eww don't say that." I giggled and smooshed his face away then rolled over onto my stomach beneath him. He instantly set his bulge against my ass and ground into me.

"Wait do I really have to finger your ass?" He said in between kisses across my shoulders and down my back.

"It would be nice since you still haven't done it yet. And I told you it's not "icky" like you think it is."

He groaned. "Ok, if I do it you swear I can cum in you?"

"Absolutely promise, love. I even bought toys to help you out. I mean, you love my ass so much why don't you play with it?"

"Ok, ok, fine. I'll agree to it. But just this once."

"Trust me, you'll want to do it again." I smirked as backed myself up against him, rubbing over the front of his boxers. "I like the silk by the way. Super cute."

He groaned and gripped my hip roughly, pressing into the spot that always drove me wild. I let out a small whimper and shoved my face into the mattress as my body felt tingly all over. "What toys did you bring?" I could hear the smirk in his voice as he continued to grind and keep his weight on top of me.

"U-um, just a vibrator, some lube, and a-ahh! Hmm...a dildo. Some other stuff."

"Why the dildo?" He nipped at my ear and traced his tongue over my lobe.

"I thought maybe if you didn't want to um...fuck me there I could just play with it."

"Your ass, you mean?"

I gripped the sheets tighter and rocked back harder against him. He hadn't let go of my hip and I was already getting flushed all over. "Uh-huh."

"How big is it?" He worked me onto my knees and spread them as wide as my hips would allow. His fingers had all the access he wanted to work up and down my slit, feeling the wetness that had just begun to form.

"U-um like...7 inches or-" I shuddered and wanted to snap my legs shut when he teased my entrance with a small poke. "S-so…"

"You can take all that there?"

I nodded. "I've done it before. I just need a little bit of help is all."

"And that help is me stretching you open?" He dipped the entirety of his finger inside me now and I bowed my back, hissing slightly. "Why are you so needy right now?"

"Well I haven't had sex since you left. Why the fuck do you think I'm needy? Aren't you the same?"

He didn't answer me and instead thrust his finger in deeper. "You're so small, you know that? You look extra tiny right now."

"We get it, Suh, you have a size kink." I grumbled and tried to move back on his finger but he pulled it away.

"You gonna behave?"

I pouted and gave him a glare. "Don't you dare tease me. That's not part of the rules."

"Let me implement some of my own rules then. One, I get to tease you all I want and I mean taking hours just to lick and kiss you everywhere and not letting you cum at all. Two, you let me face fuck you. Did you bring that spray stuff?"

I scoffed and looked away. "Tch, yeah...or whatever."

"Good. Three, let's make a movie."

I shot up entirely and shoved him away. "WHAT?!"

"Don't make it a big deal. It's just for you and me only. I'm lonely without you here and I can watch it when I miss you the most."

"It is a big deal! Don't you remember what fucking happened to me?!" I yelled.

"Yeah but I'm not stupid or an asshole. I'm your boyfriend. I don't even want anyone to look at you sexually let alone see you naked or getting rawed. I'd be furious. This is just for you and me."

"N-no...i-i don't know, Johnny. If we break up i-"

"We're not breaking up...I thought we were but I'm glad we're not." He wrapped his arms around me and kissed my shoulder. "It's not getting uploaded anywhere. It's going on my password protected photo app. No one can get into it but me. I swear, Eri."

"What if I want to stop it?"

"Then we stop it, duh. There's no reason to keep going if you're uncomfortable. We can at least try it for a bit. We're both doing new things tonight. We can celebrate."

"And if I don't like it, you'll delete it right?"

"You can delete it from my phone yourself. You're safe with me babe. Trust me." He held me tighter and nuzzled his face against against my neck.

"I'm nervous…"

"What? Don't be! It's just me, princess. I make you feel good, don't I?" I nodded meekly and played with the band of my thigh highs. "We can get going for a bit then I'll turn it on so that way you're really feeling it. Sound good?"

"O-ok." I agreed, still a little reluctant. But he was right. Maybe we could at least try.

"Good," He laid down, stuffing pillows behind his head and beckoning me over. "Come here, angel."

I shuffled over to straddle him, setting my knees on either side of his head. I propped my hand on the wall and looked down at him as he licked his lips. His arms wrapped around my thighs and held me in place. His face was buried against me in no time, diving his tongue into me as his nose brushed against my clit. I sucked in a sharp breath and let my other hand fall into his hair. "J-johnny, fuck...I missed your tongue."

He only hummed against me and flicked his tongue faster, slurping lewdly and licking up the length of my slit. His hands slid up and down my thighs, over my hips and stomach, and towards my chest. He grabbed each of my breasts and squeezed, rubbing his thumbs over my nipples. My fingers fisted his hair and pulled as I needed him more and more. I rocked my hips against his face, already feeling the effects he had on me. He parted for just a moment to take in a breath. "Just a sec."

"S-sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"It's ok. I'm fine now. You taste good. I want more."

"Shut up. No I don't. You're just say-" I gasped as he devoured me further. He caressed my body, hands flowing back down so his thumbs could spread my lips apart. The tip of his tongue painted intimate patterns into me, making me shudder and moan his name loudly. I didn't care anymore if I was loud or not. I needed this like it was my own personal drug. My toes dug into the mattress as I rolled my hips faster, getting closer to falling over the edge. He pulled away again and I figured he needed more air but instead he pushed my hips downward, making me rest over his boxers. "What the hell?!" I pouted.

"Grind on me."

"I was about to cum."

"Didn't I say that I get to tease you without making you cum at all? Now start." I huffed and slid his boxers off, revealing the girth underneath. I worked my hand over the length, wrapping my fingers around his shaft and giving him a good squeeze. "Not what I asked for."

"Fuck off." I hovered over his cock and planted my hands on his chest before I rode my wetness up and down from head to base. His eyes closed and his head fell back into the pillows, his whole body relieving itself of tension. I loved watching him sink into bliss; seeing that shit eating grin on his face because he knew he was getting what he wanted. He settled his hands behind his head and chuckled a bit as my hole brushed over the most sensitive part of him. I teased him by sinking down onto his tip, just a few centimeters or so, before sliding back down and never letting him enter me. Johnny knew that I would tease him just as much as he would tease me. Two could always play that game of course.

I pressed my chest to his, lowering myself just close enough that I could lick his lips. I swiped my tongue across his bottom lip and he easily let me in. Our tongues collided and I drew his in to suck on deeply. It morphed into deeper kisses where I could scarcely breathe and we would exchange licks and sucks in the dirtiest ways. One of his hands grabbed the back of my head while the other grabbed my ass, controlling all of my movements. I was his to fuck, his to play with, and his to love unconditionally. I managed to break away from him for a moment, panting against his lips. "Do you want to be inside me now?"

"Hmm, in a bit. Let me get my tripod. Get up."

Oh right. That. I scooted off him and wiped my lips that were still tender. I could taste myself on his tongue and wondered why he liked it so much. I unhooked my bra and tossed it aside before heading back to the bathroom where I had left my luggage. I dug through my clothes and pulled out all the naughty things I had brought with me, taking them back to the bed. His phone was all set up on the tripod ready to go. "Tell me what I should do first." I propped myself on all fours, waiting for his answer.

"Better get the spray out." He smirked.

"Of course, you slut." I spritzed a bit of the numbing spray into my mouth, wincing at the overly strong peppermint taste. "Blegh. It feels like toothpaste down my throat."

"Well hopefully my dick will make it better." He tapped record on his phone and told me to come to the edge of the bed. I was just at the perfect height for where he wanted me and I opened my mouth, sticking my tongue out. His gripped his base and rubbed the head of his cock against my tongue, swirling it a bit. I wrapped my lips around him and suckled on the sensitive area and the soft curse he let out warmed every inch of my skin. I set my hands on his hips and flowed back to grab a hold of his ass to steady myself.

He thrust into my mouth, slowly at first, getting me used to the stretch within my lips. Every few minutes or so he would push in further until he touched the back of my throat. It was a slightly uncomfortable feeling but I didn't gag thanks to the spray. Instead he remained nestled in for a while until he looked down at me. "Ready?"

I was already thinking about how sore my throat was going to be tomorrow but I nodded against him. He gripped the back of my head with both hands and pulled out slowly before plunging straight in. I dug my nails into his skin as my nose brushed against his lower stomach and he destroyed my throat. He didn't let up on his speed and I struggled to breathe through my nose. I squeezed my eyes shut as I felt tears already prickling at the corners of my eyes. He fumbled through obscene curses and almost incoherent mumbles, the pleasure of my mouth wrapped around him seeming to drive him insane. I tapped on his hip, signaling to let me go. He pulled out completely and I worked to clear the saliva between us.

He dragged his thumb across my lips to clean me up as well. "You okay?" I nodded and swallowed hard. "You sure?" I nodded again and pulled him back to me, opening my mouth for another round. "Good girl."

My body lit up at the praise and I held my head a little higher, squaring myself and gripping the edge of the bed. He worked his way back in, feeding himself into me and wreaking havoc on my taste buds. I managed to look up at him and realized he had been staring down at me the whole time. I darted my eyes away though he tapped my chin to get me to look back up. His big hand was suddenly engulfing my throat and added accompanying pressure to the point where I felt light headed. "You look so good like this, you know that?" I heard him say. My body was almost swaying and I tried to keep my frame firm but it wasn't any use. My eyes fluttered closed and I leaned into his hand until my breath was non existent. "Eri?" My hearing was fuzzy but I felt myself wanting to smile, whether I was doing it or not, I didn't know. The feeling of not being able to breathe and floating into an unconscious space was always thrilling but I was ripped from me just as it started getting good.

He pulled back again, letting his grip on me fade and I took in a large gulp of air, falling into a coughing fit. He walked away from me to go to the mini fridge within our room and get a small bottle of water. He handed it to me and I took it graciously, downing it in seconds. He stopped the recording and sat down beside me. "You good? You looked like you were going to faint or something. I got scared."

"I'm okay, I just got lightheaded."

"Fuck, it was too much then, wasn't it?"

I leaned against his shoulder and giggled. "No, I like getting lightheaded when I'm being choked."

He scoffed. "Of course you do. Don't scare me like that though, ok? Maybe were not completely ready for the face fucking."

"I'm sorry, baby. I liked it, I really did and I didn't think I would. It's just kinda like another form of choking." I nudged my head just under his chin and rubbed his broad chest. "Maybe we can try again a little later too?"

"It was pretty hot. You looked so damn good." He licked his lips then kissed me briefly before commanding me to lay down. He made me hold my legs open while he retrieved the bottle of lube from the small pile of things I had brought over. I watched as he added a small glob to his fingers and pressed it to my rim. "I guess we can start this now."

"You sure you're okay with it?" I asked, not wanting to force him to do anything he didn't want to.

"I might as well try it. I mean, I never thought it was really hot or sexy but you are so maybe I'd like it. You think it would make you squirt?"

"I've never done it with just anal but maybe if we add some other stuff it might. It'll be fun to find out." I grabbed his other hand and folded my fingers into his, giving the back of it a chaste kiss.

He returned the kiss to my stomach and took a deep breath. "I have to go slower, right? Like it'll hurt more if I don't?"

"Right. It's just like fingering me regularly just a little more cautious. You'll be ok." I assured him.

"What if it feels gross?"

"Oh my god, Johnny, it will not feel gross. I swear."

He scrunched up his nose and didn't move. I sighed and set my legs down. "You don't have to do- OH WELL OK THEN!" I felt him press into me, his fingertip wiggling its way inside.

"Keep your legs open, dammit."

"Ya could've warned me!"

"You wanted me to do this anyway so hush!" I reopened my legs and noticed that he was blushing through his face of deep concentration. He was even poking his tongue out a bit. It was cute but now I was a bit afraid of how thick his fingers were."How many do you want in here?"

"Three usually works. But not all at once!"

"I know that! Just calm down! You're making me feel weird." I kept quiet then, closing my eyes and trying to relax around his finger. He let my hand go to gently brush his thumb over my clit, letting me focus on that sensation until his entire finger finally poked through. "Huh."

"What "huh"?"

"Kinda feels a bit weird. Not like a normal vagina."

"Well duh," I said. "Probably because it's NOT a vagina??"

"Eri, Jesus Christ." He slammed his lips against mine then in order to keep me quiet as he started to slowly thrust his finger.

"You're being a fuckboy again." I said in between a few kisses.

"No, I'm just being me. We can be weird and casual in bed." He nipped at my bottom lip and curled his finger gently. "Am I doing it right?"

"Y-yeah," I wrapped my arms around his ribcage and nudged my thigh between his legs. "Feels nice. You'll need some more lube for the second one though."

"I know." He swallowed hard and pressed his cock against the fabric of the thigh highs, beginning to rub against it. "Just give me a sec...fuck…" That always got him going; a begging and needy prince that wanted to fuck my thighs and grind against them until he made a mess. It had become my favorite thing for us to do just because I loved his change in demeanor. He was hiding in my neck, whimpering slightly and kissing me in the softest of ways. I pushed his hair back and encouraged him not to forget about his finger deep inside me. He had stopped as he had gotten distracted with his grinds that were gradually getting faster.

"You know you're not allowed to cum this way, no matter how much you want to." I whispered.

He nodded and sunk a small bite into my neck. "I-i know b-but-!"

"No but's Johnny. You know the rules." He had the biggest pout on his face and I couldn't help but giggle. "Someone's a little submissive."

"I am not submissive. I just like cumming on your thighs."

"But do you like cumming inside me more?" It was like he was weighing the pros and cons of each situation, never before encountering it. He opened his mouth to speak then shut it, his brows furrowing again in thought. I smirked and grabbed the bottle of lube and dangled it in front of his face. "While you're thinking it over how about you get to work stretching me more."

He sighed and snatched the bottle from me, pulling out his finger then adding lube to them both. He was even slower as he tried to pry in again. It had been so long since I had done this and I was too tight for comfort. It was going to be some time before I opened up full. The fingertips did eventually get in, making me gasp and mewl like a kitten in heat. I arched up, pressing my thigh against him harder and sliding my hand down my body to thrust inside my wetness. "Damn, is this what you're like every time you do anal?"

"Shut up...I just kinda like...um...both holes filled at the same time."

"Ooohhh. Is that your fantasy?"

"To get fucked by two guys and eat out a girl at the same time? Yeah. I mean if you would've went with the foursome idea at christmasssss..."

"Hm." He shoved his fingers into me fully making me cry out.

"F-fuck! Johnny! You asshole!" The stinging pain was somewhat strong but the masochist in me wasn't running away from it. They were working faster, curling against the tightness and scissoring me open. I held onto his wrist, making sure he was pinned in place. I didn't want him to leave, I couldn't bear the thought of him stopping just to tease me again. I was pumping my own fingers into myself faster, my breaths war torn and ragged. He was grinding harder against my thigh, rubbing against the mesh and bringing moans out of him so deep that I wanted to scream. I fucking missed this so much; making him moan, whimper, beg, pant. Everything. It just brought me back to how much his voice made me quiver with orgasms since before I even met him.

"I need you, Eri. Now."

"Just a little more. Please. I want you too but just a little more!" I bit down on my lip as my other hand grasped the sheets between us. He was peeved that I wouldn't let him inside me just yet but by the way he was throbbing and leaving a wet patch on the fabric between us I could tell he was enjoying the show. He edged another finger inside me and we matched three for three. Both sets of fingers filling me had my holes clamping in eagerness to cum. The edge of my palm brushed against my clit while his thick fingers curled deeper inside me, circling against pleasure points and spaces that reawakened after so long. And then he pulled away and shoved my hand aside. "God fucking dammit Johnny!!" All he could do was laugh and I wanted to punch him in the chest. "Really?!"

"Yeah, you're hot when you're sexually frustrated." I watched him leave me to tap the record button again. He then returned to prop himself against the wall, his lap welcoming me to sit on it. He patted his thighs and I crossed my arms, my lips in full pouting mode. "Hah! Don't give me that shit. You want it bad. You're not gonna be a brat for long. Get over here, Eri."

"No! You're being a jerk!"

"You wanna cum don't you?" I glanced over as he said those words lower and definitely more enticing. His hand was wrapped around his cock and adding slow strokes to his shaft. His tongue poked out to graze his bottom lip and I hated that he was trying to win me over. I couldn't resist the way he looked when he had his legs open like that, hair sticking slightly to his forehead, and his broad chest heaving slightly. Droplets of precum slid down onto his fingers as he gave his head a squeeze, hissing as his teeth sucked in air. "Princess...come here."

Oh fuck you. I caved in and straddled his lap, lowering my gaze to his length. I set my hand over his and guided him towards my entrance, slowly sinking down until he filled me completely. We stood still for a moment, almost in shock at how amazing it felt. It was way different from when he wasn't feeling sexual when he first started his meds. We got to be intimate on other levels and though I craved him I was still mostly patient and comforted him. This was months of sadness, anger, hatred, pain, and heart wrenching love that had culminated into a burst of sexual frustration and passion all at once. I didn't need anything but him. In fact if we stayed holed up in this shitty motel the entire week I think I would be able to survive off his kisses alone.

"Move, for the love of fucking god, move." He begged. He was just as desperate as I was and I gave into his command before he even finished his sentence. I held onto his shoulders and worked through the burning in my thighs to bounce quickly. Feeling him plunge deep and fill me with every inch of his girth was a gift I was more than happy to accept. I noticed him fumbling his hands behind me but barely gave it any thought. I was too entranced by chasing my pleasure and hoping he wouldn't pull away again. That was when I felt something poking at my rim. I gasped as he pushed it through, stuffing me with the dildo in an act I'd never thought he'd do.

"B-baby, w-wha-what are you-?"

He gripped the back of my neck and growled against my lips. "Fuck yourself on them both."

I swallowed hard and nodded, switching my movements to swift rolls of my hips so I could catch both cocks on a heated rhythm. Johnny moved the dildo faster, almost as fast as his hips were snapping up into me now. I cupped his jaw and landed sloppy, half met kisses to his lips which he reciprocated with bites and licks to my tongue whenever he could. I was a literal mess and at his mercy. His free hand tore into my ass cheek, creating half moon indentations in my skin. I heard a thud then and realized his head had collided with the wall as he tried to move it back. "Ouch! Shit."

I giggled in between pants and cradled his head. "You're always knocking your head on something when we fuck. Are you ok?"

"Yeah yeah yeah, just keep going. I'm an idiot."

"My idiot." I gently rubbed the back of his head and held him close to my chest, setting my other hand against the wall. I mewled as my skin seemed to break with how rough he was digging his teeth in but it was fucking beautiful. With how much he had teased me and with all the sensory overload he was providing now, my orgasm was quick to come. When I rolled my hips, my clit would rub against his base and added to everything that was destroying me. That little motion was enough to have me dousing his lower stomach and thighs with my cum that gushed out in heavy spurts. My hand flew to cover my mouth and stop my scream from bursting through. It was so intense, too intense even, and I scrambled to pull away from him as my body curled up and I felt trembling aftershocks.

I could only curse and bury my face into the bed, my fist ripping the bedsheet from the corner of the mattress. Johnny hovered over me, tossing the dildo aside and trying to pry my legs open. "Nonononono." I whimpered as I was still too sensitive. I didn't want him to drive me into another orgasm that soon. I didn't think my body could take it. But he was inside me again, my hands pinned by my head as he slammed into me. I could barely look up at him but he was hovering over me, casting a shadow against the ceiling light and somehow seeming much bigger than before. "I love you…" He gasped out. "Cum with me this time."

I sure as hell would try. My walls were weak and anything could send me over the edge again. I closed my eyes as I felt him throb then stutter, a warmth filling my belly and simultaneously flowing out of me. I felt tears prickling at my eyes as my second flow of cum spread onto the sheets beneath us. He collapsed onto me and I held onto him so tight as the tears finally fell. My mind was a sea of emptiness. No thoughts filtered through and I just wanted to stay in this moment with him forever. I closed my eyes and let our heartbeats slow down until our breaths steadied. "God…" I whispered. "That was…"

"All I ever wanted and more." He pushed back his sweat drenched hair and gave me a small kiss. "Are you crying?"

"Oh." I wiped my eyes quickly. "Not sad crying. Like it was just a lot at once and it felt so good. I don't know. It just...happened." I laughed.

"Weirdo." He smiled. "Oh shit, the video."

"Shut it off."

"Well I don't wanna pull out yet."

"Fine, just shuffle with me until you can reach it." We looked stupid scooting our bodies close to the edge of the bed just so he could stop the video and take his phone off the tripod. I sighed as he sat back and made sure my legs were wide open.

"This is why I didn't want to pull out yet. I want to see it drip out of you." He held the phone above me and I rushed to cover myself.

"That's embarrassing, you giant pervert!!"

"No it's not! It's so damn hot. Please? Pleaseeeeee??" He covered my face in silly little kisses, trying his best to convince me.

"What is up with you suddenly becoming a porn director?!" I grumbled.

"I told you, it's because I miss you and I can only think about you when I jack off. But with this I can see us together and it will be so much more intense when I cum. I can see and hear how good I made you feel. The sounds you make are something else."

"O-oh…" My face flared up as I hadn't expected him to say all of that. "You are so lucky I love you more than anything. And I know you would raise hell if anybody else saw me like this. Fine, pull out."

I heard the beep of the video begin and covered my face as he moved. I felt his cum flow out of me, more so when I clenched my pelvic floor to push it out. He let out a deep moan of satisfaction and used his thumb and index finger to spread my lips apart, making me even more flustered. "Are you done yet?" I mumbled behind my hands.

"No." He dragged his fingers through his cum and nudged my hands away. "Open." I kept my eyes closed but opened my mouth, taking in his fingers that rubbed the bitter musk over my taste buds. He spread his fingers across my tongue, pinching it slightly before plunging to the back of my throat. I winced and moved my head away. The numbing spray had worn off and I wasn't into vomiting all over my boyfriend. He pulled away and stopped the third clip. "Damn."

I sat up and sighed. "Can you clean this up? I don't really wanna move."

"Yeah, I got you." I adjusted myself to lay down on my side of the bed while Johnny plugged his phone in to charge and gathered up the things we had made a mess on. I was already drifting into sleep, not even really caring about how sticky I was. "Is there anyway to clean a dildo without it feeling like you're jacking it off?!" I heard him call out from the bathroom.

"No!" I responded to his stupid question before turning my head away from the bathroom and falling asleep.

I woke up in the middle of my deep sleep after having the weirdest dream ever. I hated when I had dreams like that because I could never seem to get back to sleep until hours after. I sighed and rubbed the sleep from my eyes, pouting at my now awakened state. Johnny was spooning me, arm wrapped around my torso with his hand on one boob as usual. That I didn't mind that as much as i did his erection jabbing into my lower back. He was dead asleep too, I could tell by his snoring. How he managed to get hard while not even being awake, who knows. Maybe he was having a more pleasant dream that I had. But he needed to move if I wanted to be comfortable at all again.

I nudged my elbow against him and removed his arm from around me. "Johnny." I whispered. "Move over."

Nothing.

I sighed and whispered a little louder. "Johnny! Move over." I tapped his thigh, hoping to get his attention but all it did was make him grind into me. This man never stopped. "Johnathan. Please move."

He grumbled and nuzzled between my shoulder blades before pressing me onto my stomach. I huffed and turned my head to the side so the pillow wouldn't suffocate me. "Boy, if you don't get off me-" I gasped sharply as I felt him enter me, his head popping through instantly. "W-wrong hole!" I squeaked.

"Fuck...why is it so tight?" He rasped, voice still laced with sleep.

"You're in the wrong place!"

"Mhm-hm. It's where I wanna be."

Did he just…? Was he…? WHAT? "A-are you sure? You never liked this like ever be-" My words were taken from me as he sunk in deeper. I was still somewhat stretched out from him using the toy on me earlier but this was even heavier and thicker than that measly thing. He raised me to my knees and rubbed his hands all over my body.

"Was dreaming 'bout you."

"I-i can tell. U-um…" I was blushing hard as one of my fantasies with him was finally checked off the list. "Do you like it?"

"Not sure yet. Can I move?"

"Yes, please."

He pulled out slowly and sunk back in, testing the waters and gauging how we both felt. I was still in shock but craved more and I wondered what was going through his mind. Why did he have a sudden change of heart? Just wanted to explore? Maybe he liked what we had done earlier? Or perhaps he was doing it because he wanted to make something up to me, like leaving, in a way. Whatever it was this change of heart was giving me pleasure in a way no one had made me feel before. He held onto my hips tightly and soon I heard the familiar slapping of his hips against my ass. I closed my eyes again and let him take over and figure out what he liked and didn't like.

"Open your legs more."

My thighs already were still sore from earlier but I wiggled them apart as he pressed his hand firmly against my lower back. He wanted that deep feeling of being in my stomach and drawing moans out of me. It was one of my favorite things to do with him and it made my body tremble. "Baby...shit…" I mewled. "It's good. I told you it's good."

"Hmmm... Can I cum in here too?"

"Yeah, whatever you want. Do whatever you want to me, love."

"I like the sound of that." He pressed my hips back harder, slamming us together and taking me back to a whimpering mess. He reached over and clicked on the bedside table lamp. "Wanna see you." I didn't even protest and let him marvel in the way he was stretching my ass open. I was too wrapped up in how good it felt to even care. He pressed his chest to my back and nipped at my ear. "I wanna see you fuck yourself this time."

"A-ahh...with the dildo?"

"Yeah." He moaned against my ear. "Fast. And. Deep." He landed each word with harsh thrusts that I could feel in my stomach. I noticed he had set the clean toys on the bedside table and I reached out for the dildo, shuffling it between me and the bed. Johnny sunk his teeth down onto the back of my neck just as I pressed the toy into me. My favorite sensation was back and I was thrust into a place of bliss and heightened senses. He controlled the speed of my thrusts for a moment, making sure I knew how he wanted me to fuck myself. I almost couldn't take it but he made it even worse when I heard the whir of the small bullet vibe I had brought. It was deadly in his hands, especially since he kept it firmly against my clit. I wanted to crumble beneath his weight but he wrapped his arm around my waist and linked his ankles over mine so I couldn't move an inch. I was trapped beneath his big body, helpless and begging for my release.

"That's my babygirl. You're doing so good for me." He cooed. I buried my face into the pillow, blushing at his sweet words. I was already flustered and he was making it worse. "Do you wanna cum for me?"

"Y-yes daddy." I said meekly.

"I know, and I want you to squirt again. I want you to cum so hard. So sensitive and overstimulated that you collapse and cant take anymore. I want that."

He worked the bullet into small circles which made my toes dig into the sheets. His hand that was around my waist slid down to cover mine, controlling the speed of every single one of my pleasure points. With both his hands between my thighs and his cock stuffed inside me, I gripped the pillow between my teeth, clenching hard as my body came full force for the third time that night. I felt my cum flow over my thighs and his hands, pitter-pattering onto the mattress. My nails clawed at the walls as he let the dildo go but kept the vibrator on me, keeping up the relentless torture. I screamed a chaotic monologue of "Daddy! Please! Daddy please!!", begging for him to ease up on my sensitivity but he didn't. Instead his hips drove all the way home, pounding harshly and creating an infestation of tremors throughout my entire being. Finally, the bullet stopped and dropped by my knee.

Both of Johnny's hands were on my hips again as he chased his own orgasm, breathing hard in between growls and moans. I brought my hand to rest on his, squeezing my fingers against him tight. His cum rushed into me then, warming me like he had done before and making me feel absolutely full. He let me lower myself to the mattress and caved on top of me again, resting his head by mine. "Was us fucking always this amazing? I mean like yes but also like...this is some next level shit." He chuckled. "Eri?"

"I'm so tired, you asshole."

"Well I know your asshole is tired. Pretty much got plowed into oblivion."

"Uh, yeah, so...what was that about?" I asked curiously.

He huffed, trying to blow some of my curls away from his face. "I don't know...just...guess I should try stuff before I say I don't like it. I never found it sexy but your ass is perfect. It was like suffocating. Only with you babe."

"I feel so special. And also like I wanna die. I need to shower. I'm so sticky but I don't think I can move."

"I'll help you. Hold on." He slid out of me slowly, leaving my hole gaping and dripping with his cum. "Fuck…" he breathed. "I could watch that all day."

"Jooohhnnnyyyy!" I covered my head with the pillow, wanting to disappear forever every time he stared at my openings like that.

He tossed the pillow away and helped me sit up gently. "I just like teasing you."

My big pout didn't last long because he scooped me up in his arms bridal style and carried me to the bathroom. I held onto him tight, almost in disbelief. "Well damn daddy, just bench press me."

"Knowing you, you'd like that." He set me down gently in the shower and joined me before drawing the curtains and turning on the water. "I'm so glad you came, baby." He set his head on top of mine and wrapped his arms around my shoulders.

"I am too. I just want to be with you. No matter what."

The next morning (or afternoon, I wasn't really sure) I woke up with almost every inch of my body aching. My ass hurt, my legs hurt, all the bite marks hurt, my throat hurt. Having sex with Johnny was like getting hit by a freight train and trying to pick yourself back up from the aftermath. On top of that I was so damn hungry. I rolled over slowly and hit an empty spot instead of the warmth I expected. I felt around, trying to figure out if I was missing something before opening my eyes. He wasn't there. I sat up and looked around, perplexed as to where he went. "Looking for me?"

My head swiveled when I heard his voice. He was coming out of the bathroom, pulling his shirt over his head. "How ya feeling?"

"Like death." I croaked. "Where did you go?"

"To get you breakfast and a chai latte to try and make your throat better. I got your favorite. Strawberry pancakes, eggs, sausage, and chicken nuggets."

"Fuck yeah, nuggies." I giggled a bit and reached out for the latte. I definitely needed it to soothe my throat.

He tossed off his jeans and brought the bag of food to sit between us. I curled up against him instantly and nuzzled his shoulder. "Let me guess, you want me to feed you?" I nodded and gave him puppy dog eyes. He rolled his own and opened the containers cutting up the pancakes and feeding them to me. "I wanted to take you out later on if you're up to it?"

I chewed a bit then swallowed. "Take me where?"

"Shopping and stuff. We've got big malls here. Figured you'd like all the makeup stuff."

"Oh yeah? You gonna be my sugar daddy or something?"

He scoffed as he ate one of the nuggets. "More like generic store brand sucrose father."

I laughed and kissed his cheek. "You know you don't have to buy me anything right?"

He shrugged. "You just seemed kinda disappointed in the hotel and my car…"

"Well...I am, I mean I was. I just expected you to have more since this was your big internship, you know?"

"Yeah...well I like my van. I can go wherever I want and not have to be tied down. I've traveled along the coast and to different cities already. It was like this place was made for me. There's so much to do here. It's better then our college town."

"Right…" I said rather sadly.

"Babe, you know I do miss you. I don't want to be away from you and that's not what im trying to say right?"

"I know...I know. Let's just not focus on that right now I guess."

"I still wanna take you shopping. Get you looking all cute and shit. I'll carry your bags and all that." He fed me another bite of pancakes. "Is that ok?"

I felt bad. I didn't want him to think that he had to do this for me, especially not spend money to make me feel happy. "Johnny, I'm sorry about the van and the motel. You don't have to buy me anything. I don't want to be a materialistic bitch. That doesn't matter to me. I can stay in bed with you all day."

"Shut up. We're doing it. It's not just shopping. I can show you around too. You have to at least do other stuff on your vacation than just fuck me. Even though I'm about it."

"Ok, ok, sucrose father." He gave me a laughter filled kiss which I returned with hidden intentions. I swiped my tongue along his bottom lip and cupped the back of his neck.

"Mhm...baby...you want something." He said, seeing through me instantly. "Aren't you sore?"

"Not all that." I eased my way into his lap "Just wanna warm you. That ok?"

"Hmm...only for a little bit."

I nodded and wrapped my arms around his neck, settling my center over him. He held me close too and guided my hips to grind smoothly over him. I avoided his lips so we both wouldn't get too worked up, just enough for him to nestle inside me and stay there for a little while. "Did you wanna do this this morning?"

"Yeah but you left." I pouted.

He swiped his thumb over my lip and I took it into my mouth, sucking gently. "I got you food didn't I? I made it up to you."

I laid my head on his shoulder while keeping his thumb in my mouth. I hummed a little response and lifted my hips for him to guide himself in. He pressed the head of his cock against my entrance and I sunk down slowly, wincing a bit at my tenderness but the feeling of him inside me made me all cozy and gushy with lovey feelings. Johnny scratched at my head gently and turned the TV on low, not minding me wanting to fall back asleep. "If you don't want to go shopping today, we can do it tomorrow. But my friends are also having a party tomorrow and I'd like it if you met them."

Blegh, socializing. Socializing with my boyfriend's friends. Socializing with people that weren't that great because he only had one good friend. I sighed internally and tried to gauge if I could really take in that much anxiety in one day. Probably not and I would be suffering the entire time but I would do it for him. I would do anything for him.

I squeezed Johnny's hand tightly as we walked up the stairs to this ridiculous baby mansion. I had never seen a house this huge before but I guess it's what happened when you were California dreamin'. There was way too many people already and I clung onto him tighter as my breath sped up. The music was way too loud and when I tried calling out to him he didn't hear me even though we we're right next to each other. So I continued to follow wordlessly as he did his social butterfly shit. He was saying hi to people he never mentioned to me and making his way through the crowd until he found a couch for us to sit on. He sat down and set me beside him, his arm loosely around my hips. About a dozen people were circled around us and a few people stared at me including this gorgeous girl who sent me a small smile. I straightened up a bit as I looked her over. She had beautiful skin, a little darker than mine, and braids going all the way down her back with some pink synthetic hair mixed in. She had the coolest punk vest on, all decked out in patches, studs, and distressing. I wanted to ask her about them but my social anxiety was making me shrink away.

Johnny didn't seem to notice our exchange at all. He was too busy laughing at something someone said before he got passed a joint. I rolled my eyes and propped my elbow on my knee, setting my chin in the palm of my hand. "You gonna be social or pout all night?" Johnny asked as he exhaled smoked.

I waved it away instantly. "I am being social, I'm here aren't I? Also you know I hate that stuff. Don't blow the smoke around me."

He rolled his eyes and took another hit before passing it onto the next person. "I would like you to at least talk a bit."

"And what you you like me to say Johnny? That I'd rather be in the hotel? Maybe grinding on you until you begged to be inside me? Do you want me to tell them that?" I was getting snippy because of this atmosphere. I never should've agreed to come but I didn't think it would be this bad.

"Don't be a smartass."

"I'm not. It's the truth."

He looked over at me and leaned in to whisper in my ear. "You need to behave and I mean it."

"Or what?" I challenged. "It's a lot for me to take in at once, ok? You of all people should fucking know how anxiety works."

"There's nothing to be anxious about. It's just a party. We gone to parties dozens of times. It's the same thing."

"It's not…" This was like some fashionista bullshit. Like high roller drugs and top tier liquor everywhere. All sorts of people dancing around through flashing lights and thumping music. It was overwhelming and I was uncomfortable seeing people snort coke off of tables or toss back unknown pills. I didn't know how Johnny could stand this either. This exact environment was the one that got him roped into trouble. I knew it affected him so why wasn't he showing it?

"Just chill and talk. These are my friends and it's important that everyone gets along."

And what if I don't like your friends? I wanted to scream. Why did I have to be friends with your friends? Were your friends the ones acting like fools and looking geeked out of their minds. I sure as hell would've thought you'd be smart enough to not be friends with them either. "Fine." Was all I actually said. "I will try."

Johnny turned away, releasing his arm from around my hips to distract himself with someone else. I was hurt that he seemed so intensely peeved about me feeling this way. He was acting brand new, as if I, as if HE, didn't have social anxiety. He handled his differently. He partied more and I got angry before I got drunk. I was in the angry phase currently. I was about to call it quits right then and there when some guy got close and asked me a question. "So you're Johnny's friend?"

"Friend?" I scoffed. "I don't think "friend" is the right term."

"Ohhhh, so like a fuck buddy thing?"

I was totally confused. Had Johnny not introduced me as his girlfriend? I looked over at him for a second, wondering if it was just a miscommunication error or something he blatantly didn't want people to know. "No, were not fuck buddies. We're together."

"Johnny never told us he had a girlfriend. Did you just start dating?"

I grit my teeth and tried my best to stay calm. What the hell? Why hadn't he told them? Did he want to feel single over here? Did he want to fuck other people while I was at home crying over him? I was fuming.

"Kylo, chill with the 20 questions bro." Johnny laughed. "We're just here to have a good time."

"Sorry! I was just curious! I mean, she is pretty cute after all." Kylo said with a wink in my direction.

Johnny just laughed. He didn't get into his usual jealous or dominating role. He fucking laughed. Who was he right now? We had just had three days of paradisal bliss and now at some party he changes into someone I don't know. I wanted to flirt with this Kylo guy to really test Johnny but I also wasn't in the mood for whatever karma would come of it. I crossed my arms over my chest and avoided them both. Instead my eyes landed on the beautiful girl who was chuckling. She mouthed something that looked like "he's wack" and nodded towards Johnny.

"That's for damn sure." I said in agreement. She laughed louder, a really sweet and airy sound. I loved it and could feel myself getting flustered. I didn't know why- well I did. It was because girls made me crumble to my knees faster than any man could. But I shouldn't have been acting this way. It just seemed wrong. Suddenly a shrill voice cut through the high strung atmosphere and before I knew it some girl was draped over Johnny's lap and kissing his cheek.

"Johnny!" She practically squealed. "I knew you'd be here!"

At first I was shocked. All I could really do was take in her incredibly expensive, diamond encrusted bracelets, her Yves Saint Laurent tiny purse, and her chanel sunglasses perched atop of overly processed blonde hair. She was just a little miss Paris hilton who was way too comfortable with my man. He let her hang onto him, even putting an arm around her shoulders. Was it really fucking social if I snapped someone's neck?

"Cassie, babe," He joked. "What are you on tonight?!"

"A little coke, a little molly. Just the usual combo."

"Ugh I fucking hate molly. Never again."

Yeah because that's what you took the night you got assaulted and now you're hanging out with someone who does this on the regular? Nothing made sense. Was he even thinking? Also, what was this 'babe' shit? I was the only one he called that!

"I know, I know! Don't worry. You can just have some Percocets and chill for the night. You're so wound up and tense!" She laid her head on his shoulder and looked up at him with doe eyes. I felt the rage building in my fist and I was dead set on punching her in her fucking designer face.

I pushed Johnny back against the couch and leaned into this chicks face, grabbing her shoulder roughly. "Hi I don't think we've met." I growled. "But you need to get your hands off my-"

She gasped, completely ignoring my anger and not taking me seriously. She reached out a manicured claw to try and touch my hair. "Your curls are so pretty! Oh my god! How do you get them to be so nice?! You know I tried a perm once and-"

I gripped her wrist and yanked her twig like arm away from my head. "Don't. Touch. My. Hair." It was the one thing I absolutely hated. Strangers weren't allowed to touch my hair. Barely anyone was allowed to touch my hair. It was my sacred crown that I took pride in and I'd be damned if little miss cokehead was going to touch it.

"Eri, what the fuck?" Johnny said harshly as he pulled her wrist from my grasp. I glared at him in disbelief. Was he actually defending her?

She rubbed her wrist and held onto him. "Johnny! Why is she being mean?!"

"Oh I'll fucking show you mean." I got up and made a grab for my gauges, ready to square up and get charged with assault. I gave zero fucks right now. I suddenly felt a hand gently wrap around my arm, tugging me away from the situation. "Come walk with me." The beautiful girl from before said. Since Johnny was too fucking busy coddling the bimbo I decided to go with her. I felt a sense of calmness when she touched me, like a connection had suddenly been formed. We moved away from the party altogether and made our way outside to pretentious garden area that was filled with dozens upon dozens of flowers and plants, with a fountain, swing set, and gazebo in the middle of it.

I was shaking, violently so. I dug my hand into my purse to pull out a cigarette from the carton. I set it between my lips and went to light it but I couldn't keep myself steady enough to ignite it. I was two seconds away from tossing the damn thing when she unfolded my tense fingers and took the lighter from me. She cupped her hand around the flame as it burst forth, making sure the wind wouldn't extinguish it as it caught the end of the cigarette.

"Thank you." I said as I took a deep drag.

She slipped the lighter back into my purse, so smoothly that I barely even noticed.

"So you're Johnny's girl?" She asked in a voice that was a bit husky contrary to her laugh.

"I guess barely! What the fuck is his problem? Who is that chick?! I swear to god! I'm about ready to slit her throat! Why didn't he tell anyone that I was-"

"Hey," she cupped my face gently and I instantly shut up. She smiled down at me and rubbed her thumb against my cheek. "Johnny's an idiot. All he does is hang out with Cassie's drugged up ass so he can score free drugs himself. Then Kylo's a fucking douche that gives him all these shrooms and shit. There's barely a time when were all hanging out that Johnny isn't high. Don't sweat him, chica. You could do way better."

"W-wait you mean he does this continuously? What does he take?" My heart suddenly halted from insane race car speed to devastating crash.

"So far I've seen him do shrooms, weed, percocet, acid. Maybe he does more. I'm not sure. But that's what I've seen."

Suddenly I didn't want to be here anymore. Not just at this party, but not in California and certainly not around him. He left me for drugs, a rusted van to live out of, and some bimbo that was making him an addict. "G-great...just what I need right now. That's exactly what I need right now. I came all the way here to try and make us better and he just makes everything worse. It felt so good before...what the fuck is happening."

"So dump him. What the fuck do you need a man for? Come over to the lesbian side, were much better." She teased.

"Oh," I looked up at her for a moment. "I mean, I'm not straight. I'm pretty gay, trust me." I said.

"But you're dating Johnny?"

"And? I'm still gay. Well queer. Honestly it would take me 87 years to explain my labels but the short version is I fuck anyone and I romantically want anyone. This time around it happened to be him."

"Ahh...well the invitation still stands to join us again. Start off with something way better than that jerk, honestly."

I raised an eyebrow and almost coughed on an inhale of smoke. "Are you like...flirting with me?"

"If it's working then yes, if it's not, then no." She smiled. "I'm Aaliyah by the way."

"I'm Eri...I haven't had someone flirt with me in awhile." I laughed a bit nervously. "I mean Johnny doesn't count."

"Nah, nothing he does counts…" We were quiet for a moment but I hated it because it kept me in my feelings. Thankfully she started back up again not long after. "So, you don't live in Cali do you?"

I shook my head. "I go to school on almost the other side of the country. Johnny graduated and took an internship here, got up and moved, and didn't really warn me. We've been rocky ever since. I thought it was getting a bit better. We didn't leave our hotel room for two days and I'm still sore but I guess sex can't fix anything. I mean I knew that but it kinda always did for us."

"Nah, it's just a bandaid for the problems. I would also recommend completely punching Cassie in the face."

"Why'd you stop me then?" I asked.

"Don't need another sis locked up in jail. Rather have you free and without a record. Trust me, I've wanted to deck her myself plenty of times. She thinks she's amazing because she's rich and can afford all this wack shit. She's got a big problem though. She's high on the daily and no one will get her to rehab."

"I can put her ass in a coma and then she'd really detox." I said as tapped out my ashes.

"Your hair is really beautiful by the way." She said, diverting my anger. "But you're not a damn poodle or something where she had to try and pet you." Aaliyah commented.

"Yeah, I get that all the time. Especially because my hair takes up space. I get old people staring at me, little bastard 13 year olds taking snapchats or whatever of me at the store, and white girls trying to touch me without permission. Can I get Solange Knowles in here please?"

"I know exactly how you feel, especially with my braids. Sometimes I just whip my head around real fast to hit someone with them and they can leave me alone."

I smiled and took another drag. "That's a mood. Why can't people understand personal space?"

"They think people like us were meant to be ogled at, ever since we got pushed onto podiums for sale in the slave trade."

"Ain't that a bitch." I sighed and didn't realize I was leaning in towards her until my shoulder brushed against her arm, which she put around my waist.

I left her arm there, not really sure of what I should do. She was really pretty and super cool but I was with Johnny though he was currently acting like an addict who didn't have a care in the world for me. A complete 180 since yesterday. I felt sad and angry all at the same time and really wish I had someone to comfort me since it felt like I was alone in this battle. "I'm sorry to kind of dump this on you. We just met and i'm telling you about all this bullshit with my boyfriend and-"

"Its fine. I wouldn't mind making you feel better. Just tell me what you need."

Ok, definitely flirting and maybe propositioning me for sex? She leaned in, setting both her hands on my waist, and smirking down at me. "U-uh...a drink would be nice. I like drinking."

"Yeah? I can do that for you. What do you like, babydoll?" Aaliyah said.

"Anything dark."

She smirked. "I could tell." She placed a kiss on my cheek that caught the corner of my mouth a little too closely. "I'll be back in a sec."

Aaliyah left then, retreating back inside the house and leaving me to sit on the swing set. I was trying hard not to cry. Iwnas even trying hard not to text Quinn. Hearing their "I told you so's" right now may not be for the best. Their anger would also trigger mine and I would end up as a giant mess. I snubbed the last of my cig into the ground and crushed it beneath my strappy sandal. What the hell was I going to do?

I wiped away the few tears that were starting to spill over. I wanted to go home now. I stared down at my phone and texted Johnny. I couldn't do this anymore. I couldn't pretend I was alright at this party now that I had all this newfound information about him. He needed to explain himself and I didn't want it to blow up into a big argument in front of total strangers. He didn't answer back right away, leaving me impatient and more anxious. Aaliyah came back then and handed me a plastic cup. "My special concoction. Drink up."

I tossed it back without another though but regretted it when I felt the sharpest and fiery burn. "Ughh fuck!" There was rarely a time where alcohol made me flinch but this was a disaster. "Jesus, woman, what the hell is in this?"

"Don't worry about it." She said, tipping the cup back again. "It'll get you buzzed easily." Well that was exactly what I needed. I wanted to get stupid drunk. Like walking disaster drunk but I didn't trust her enough yet to do so. "Better with a bit of alcohol in your system now, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess...I asked Johnny if we could just head out."

"You need a man's permission to go somewhere?"

"No, not like that. I mean he drove us here. I don't know my way around here. It's not permission, just...you know."

"Like I said, forget him. We can hang out and chill. Where do you wanna go, hm?"

I scooted a bit away from her, suddenly feeling that moment of calmness wash away. She was being way too friendly and flirty but... should I even try and make Johnny jealous? Would that even do any good? Everything was making me second guess myself. I just wanted everything to go back to being normal. Suddenly I felt her lips on mine which yanked me from my thoughts immediately. My eyes went wide and before I could even raise my hands to push her away I heard Johnny screaming my name. He had stormed over to the swing set and split Aaliyah and I apart. "What the fuck are you doing?!"

Before i could even answer Aaliyah butted in. "She can do whatever she wants."

"THEY don't need to kiss you and they sure as hell aren't going to sleep with you!"

Aaliyah rolled her eyes. "Well THEY seem to need a bit of loving since you'd rather be up Cassie's ass."

"That isn't true! Cassie's just clingy when she's high. It's nothing like that. Eri, get over here."

"You didn't even push her away…" I said. "You just let her hang onto you. You can go on being her druggie boyfriend if you want."

"What? What are you talking about?" Johnny asked, confused.

"You know exactly what I mean. Aaliyah told me about all the shit you're taking. You left me for drugs, some shit van, and partying all the time. Is that what you really wanted? To get away from me?"

Johnny glared at Aaliyah then looked at me. "Come here. We need to talk."

"I'd rather just drink." I whispered.

He tugged me towards him but Aaliyah yanked me back. "Let her go Johnny."

"No, you let them go! They're my girlfriend and we need to talk. Let go."

"Dont pull on me! Either of you!" I dropped both their hands and held my own close to me. "I'll just...i'll just go with him for now and maybe I can come back later or something?" I was giving her false hope of course, but some part of me, amidst confusion, did want to see her again.

She rolled her eyes and stuffed her hands in the pockets of her vest. "Yeah, sure."

Johnny grabbed onto my arm and pulled me away quickly, taking me back to his van. "What the hell are you talking about? Calling me a druggie?? What did she put in your head?"

"She didn't put anything in my head. You're smoking more weed, dropping acid, getting geeked? What the fuck johnny? You had come so far and you're just turning back to who you used to be."

"That's not true. Just because i've tried some stuff doesn't mean i'm a drug addict. How could you say that to me?"

"Because-!" I yelled. "I don't want to date someone like that. It's only time before you try something even harder then i have to find you in a tub with a needle in your arm!"

"Eri, what in the hell are you talking about?! I'm not planning on shooting up heroin or something!"

"Yeah, sure. You can get all you wanted from that stupid bimbo."

"Cassie's a cokehead. She just needs someone to help her." He argued.

"So taking drugs with her is the answer? What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing is wrong with me! Im only 24! I just want to have fun!"

"Well you can have fun without me! I came all this way to fix what we had and you don't care. You don't care at all. You didn't care about leaving me behind. You haven't even said one thing about your internship. You just...you wanted to get away from me. What did i do johnny? What did I do?" I was getting choked up and trying not to cry over him yet again.

"Eri, you didn't do anything. I want new experiences, I want to travel, I want to see the world. I don't want to be cooped up in a boring ass college town. I cant stay there waiting for you to graduate. I needed to do something and this was a good opportunity for me to get out."

"So if you wanted to leave why did you even fucking want me to be your girlfriend?! You said you wouldn't hurt me! You promised, johnny! You! Promised!"

"I'm not trying to hurt you! I just need you to let me spread my wings a bit. It's not like i don't want to be with you. I love you. So fucking much. I'm glad you're here. I want you to be with me."

"Why? So you can fuck me and then ignore me?"

"No! Because-" he sighed and ran his hand over his face. "Even though i want to explore you still keep me grounded. You keep me from going crazy."

"Not really since you're doing all these drugs and partying. How is that being grounded?"

"Why are you so focused on that?! I don't get it!

I slammed my fist against the side of his van. "When you find your fucking uncle overdosed in a bathtub when youre 7 you'll see that drugs arent fucking my thing. And if you try and kill youself in a bathtub you'll spend every second that you're cutting your wrist feeling just like him. Thats why im fucking focused on it Johnny. I didn't even like the fact that you were a pothead when I first met you. That you still are one! But i kept on. I looked past that because i saw you for who you were but i can't look past this."

"Fuck…" He stepped closer to me and I curled away, holding my stinging hand.

"Dont. Just dont…"

He grabbed a hold of me anyway and pulled me to his chest, giving me a hard squeeze. "Babe...i-"

"You called her babe." I snipped.

He exhaled deeply. "It just slipped."

"No it didnt. Dont add liar to your list."

"I'm sorry. I didn't think it was a big deal."

"You don't think anything is a big deal. Do you even want us to be together anymore? Tell me truthfully. Its only been 5 months, Johnny, almost a year if you want to count us fucking around." I shoved him away and glared up at him. "Tell me."

"I…" He pushed his hair back and looked away.

"Oohh!" I laughed as my voice cracked and tears started to fall. "So thats how its going to be? All that shit in the back of your car meant nothing then?"

"I didn't say anything!"

"Your hesitation said it all. Just…take me back to the hotel. I'll see if I can get an earlier flight to go back home."

"No, no, no! Please don't go back home. Eri, i want to be with you. I want to. I want to."

"You want to? Then fucking act like it, Johnny Suh. I dont have time for fucking little boys that want to play games. I want a real man that can own up to his shit and treats me like i'm important. I want my daddy to take care of me and make me feel safe, not make me have to worry about what he's doing states away."

He leaned down and set his forehead against mine. "I want to make you feel all that. Just dont leave yet. I can't have you leave. Will you stay?"

"I don't know. Just take me home. And don't ever bring me to one of his high roller Beverly Hills movie ass parties again. Ever. I mean it."

"I won't, baby." He took my sore hand in his and rubbed his thumb over my knuckles, giving it a gentle massage. "Let’s go back." I got in and crossed my arms over my chest, staring out the window. He got in as well and started up the engine, beginning the semi lengthy drive back. He tried reaching over to set his hand on my leg but I pulled away. "Please don't be like this…"

"Like what? Pissed off?"

"No I mean...just like let me at least try and make it up to you."

"How you gonna do that? Hmm? You would have a hell of a lot of making up to do."

"Let me try. It's the least I can do."

"Fine. Whatever."

We stayed quiet and I closed my eyes, wishing that this whole trip was over. A few tears were still falling down and I left them there, wanting him to see the suffering he caused me. I sniffed a bit and tried not to turn my breath into a hyperventilating mess. The drive seemed too short for us to be at the hotel and when I opened my eyes I saw we had arrived at a beach. Beaches seemed to just pop up whenever you needed them here. I liked that at least about this place. Everything was deserted and the end of the parking area matched up almost perfectly to the sand. "Did I say take me here?" I snapped.

"I know it's not the hotel but I know the beach is your favorite place to be. I’ve messed it up at that beach party last year, and I messed up tonight's party so I was hoping that maybe this would work.”

"Yeah, you messed up the beach. The literal place that is my sanctuary and make me feel close to home. Good job."

He shut off the engine and crawled into the back of the van, opening the back doors. "Can you come here?"

I looked back at him. "What for?"

"Just come." He extended his hand and I reluctantly crawled around the back seat to sit on his mattress, both our legs dangling over the edge. Outside I could see the stars much clearer and the sea breeze was crisp against the overwhelming heat of California. I was thankful to not sweat at least for a moment. "I never meant to hurt you or make you cry, Eri. It wasn't my intention at all. You mean the world to me but we're so intense it can be overwhelming sometimes. And it is true. I did want to get out of our stupid college town. It had nothing to do with you but rather with me being sick of that fucking place. I've been there for years and it drove me crazy. It wasn't to run away from you."

"The internship in of itself," he continued. "Is not exactly what I wanted it to be. I get assignments and stuff but it isn't the exciting stuff I want to do. Mostly I'm in the office doing desk shit and editing photos. I don't mind the editing I just," he shrugged. "It's not thrilling but it'll look good on my resume in the future. As for the drugs...I'm sorry about your uncle, I really am. I'm sorry about how that affected you when you tried to commit suicide. I don't make good decisions. I never really have. Drugs are like my escape. It's nice not to think about shit sometimes. I don't do it nearly as much as Aaliyah made it out to be-which by the way she definitely wanted to fuck you."

"Oh, I know."

"Were you...gonna do it?"

"You're asking me if I was gonna cheat on you?"

"I don't know...I don't think you would've but I know you basically hate me…"

I rolled my eyes. "I don't hate you. Don't be a damn baby. I wasn't going to fuck her. If she tried anything I would've shoved her away just like any man. I want my boyfriend. I just felt lonely. I wanted some comfort…"

He pulled me closer to him and set my head on his chest. "I want you to feel safe. I want you to feel like I love you. I want you to tell me anything and everything. I'm there for you and I fucked up...if you want me to, I can stop doing drugs. Maybe not weed-i got my med card here- but everything else I can."

I sighed and wiped away the leftover tears. "I'm just scared. I've had that feeling since I was a kid. You said you wouldn't do something harder but that's what they all say. Then it gets worse and worse. I was really close to him. He and my mom got into a lot of fights but he cared about me. I didn't know it was bad, I mean, I was just a kid. How was I supposed to know what drugs were? I don't want you to end up like that. I know it seems impossible but it just...haunts me."

He kissed the top of my head and took my wrist in his hand gently. His thumb rubbed over the scar that I tried to hide with tattoos. I never thought he noticed. Maybe he had noticed all my scars. I had tried to tattoo over them all but some were fresher than others. "I can see why and I don't blame you. If I stop taking drugs will you stop drinking? We can get sober together…"

"I can try…" I sad rather sadly and unconfident.

"How much do you drink a day?"

"Never enough to get drunk but a buzz is fine. Couple ales or wine coolers, maybe a bit of brown liquor. Like a fifth of the bottle? Whole bottle lasts me about 5 days or so."

"Christ…"

"Guess I'm a hypocrite, huh?" I came to that pathetic realization all too late.

"No. I don't have that trauma that you do, seeing your uncle and all. But that doesn't mean that I want to lose you to drinking either. Do you still go to therapy?"

"Yeah and get my meds changed but it's been a little...bit worse since you left. Not that I want to put that on you but it's just been happening."

"You can take one of my shirts back if you want. I know it's not much but I know you like them."

I nodded and clung to him, not sure if I completely forgave him but finally feeling like we were at least connecting again. "Do you still sleep with the rillakuma?"

"Of course. I have to now." He chuckled lightheartedly. "It's just as comforting to me as my shirts are to you."

"I sleep in your hoodies sometimes too. They're nice and roomy."

"Yeah I know. You basically have them all." He nudged his face against mine, playfully but also ended up connecting our lips. He paused after we separated but kept his close distance. "Do you forgive me?"

"I don't know yet. I feel a lot of things right now. Maybe I just need some time to think."

"Oh…" He sounded extremely disappointed. "Do you still want to go home?"

"I think I would want to spend a few more nights with you…" I squeezed his hand lightly.

"Thank you. I really want that. I promise to make this trip worthwhile."

"Well...the sex was pretty good at least. My ass still kind of hurts though."

"It was...phew..uh…" He wiped his other hand on his jeans and I saw his cheeks flush.

"You can admit you like anal now, you know."

"I'm on the fence, okay? Let's just leave it at that."

"Mhm...sure."

"Do you want to watch the stars with me?" He asked suddenly. That was a pretty sweet gesture I had to admit. Something straight out of a cheesy romance movie but still sweet nonetheless.

"Yeah, that sounds nice actually."

He scooted back onto the mattress and took off his shoes, tossing them over the back seat. I did the same with my sandals and we both leaned back onto the pillows, looking out into the night sky that was littered with bright white orbs. We didn't say much, just relaxed beneath the moon, hearing the waves lapping at the Earth. Johnny set a soft playlist to play on his phone and kept it beside him, adding something to fill the otherwise silent space between us. I closed my eyes and focused on letting myself go, trying to make my heart less heavy and remind myself why I fell in love with him in the first place. That was when I felt his pinky lock with mine. Memories came flooding back; every time he made me laugh, the hurt we had been through, all the trust that I gave him and no one else. There was so much invested in us. I had no idea if I really wanted to let it go.

He was humming now, softly, strumming his fingers against his chest to the beat. When I looked over I saw that his eyes were closed as well and I wondered what he was thinking about. "Johnny?"

"Yes?"

"What are you thinking about?"

"What am I going to do after this internship is over. I don't know where I want to go. Maybe try and find some jobs in Chicago, maybe New York, cities where I can expand and maybe do a lot more."

"Do you want us to be long distance?"

"Not particularly, no. But I know you want to finish school. That's important. You're not going to quit just because you want to follow me around the world. Maybe when next summer rolls around and you graduate you can come travel with me."

"Do you think we can really be together for a whole other year?"

"Yeah. Don't you?" He asked.

"Yeah...I do." I squeezed his pinky tighter. "I do want to be with you Johnny. For a long long time."

387 notes · View notes

rawmeanderson · 5 years ago

Text

bring you back to me ― part viii

ft. jeff skinner plot: when your high school sweetheart gets traded to the same city where you now live and work, your best friend just can’t mind her own business ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ warnings. swearing, drinking, all sorts of nsfw stuff 👏🏻 word count: 6.4k 118 days later, here I am and just lazy as always, hence the fact that I’ve got no gif for you gays again, whoops. i’m sure no one is surprised that this is pm unedited. thank you everyone for your patience in me getting this chapter out for you guys. it was a long ass off season, but now i’ve got my writing mojo back, so I hope you guys enjoy!! 💞 visit my masterlist (there’s a link in my description!) to sign up for email alerts or to view the master document with all parts of the fic for easy binge reading!!

It startles you to the point that you jump slightly when your phone starts vibrating violently against your desktop. With your heart leaping still, you grin when you glance at it to see Jeff’s name across the screen, ringing again a second later. You answer the call and lift your phone to your ear, rotating in your chair to face away from the computer, welcoming the distraction.

“Hey,” you say casually, still smiling as you bring your hand up to chew on your thumbnail.

“Hey, beautiful,” he responds, and you hear the sound of his car door shutting. “How’s work?”

“Uneventful. Are you out of practice already?” Your words come as you check your watch to see the time.

“Yeah, coach let us go a little early today,” he tells you, and you hear him try to stifle a yawn.

“Are you gonna head home for a nap?” you ask with a soft laugh, pushing your hair out of your face.

“Yeah, probably,” he admits, earning a snort out of you.

“I hope you know that I’m crazy jealous.”

The after practice phone calls had come every day in the week that followed Jeff’s return from the road trip. It had become part of the easy routine the two of you had settled into. You’d stayed together a handful of nights, gone to one of his two home games that week. Being together was just easy.

“Do you want to go out for drinks tonight? Some teammates and their girls are going out, so I just figured it’d be a good time for you to meet everyone,” he says following a short pause. You know he’s driving, you can hear the soft clicking of his blinker and the hum of the radio.

“Uhm, what time? I’m grabbing dinner with some colleagues, so as long as it’s after that, yeah, I’d like to go,” you tell him, despite feeling a little nervous about meeting more of his teammates.

“Yeah, that should work. Do you think 9 would be a good time to shoot for?”

“I think so, yeah, we should be done by then,” you say, leaning back in your seat a bit more. Your stomach is growling, and you’ll be happy to take your lunch break once you’re off the phone with Jeff.

“Great, I’ll send you the address later,” he tells you, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “You wanna stay at mine after?”

A wide grin spreads across your face, and you laugh quietly. “Yeah, sure,” you say, feeling heat rise up the back of your neck as you wonder if the hickeys you’d left on his chest a couple nights early was still there.

The two of you talk for a few more minutes until he reaches his parking garage, and you say your goodbyes as he gets into the elevator. As if on cue, your stomach growls loudly the second you hand up, and you step out of your cubicle to see if Lydia had had lunch yet.

You and Lydia ended up going out for sandwiches around the corner from your office, taking your time to get back to work. You told her about going out with Jeff to meet some of his teammates, and asked if she’d want to go with you, figuring she’d jump at the opportunity. She declined your invitation, which was a surprise, but you didn’t push for a reason. It was a nice lunch though, considering you hadn’t seen much of her in the last few days. The two of you solidified plans for the game you were going to in a few days, and you eventually went back to your desk to finish out the work day.

Somehow, the rest of the day went by quickly enough. Dinner was nice, considering it was with work friends you didn’t see very often. After eating, you hung around for a while, catching up as you finished your glass of wine. By the time you went your separate ways, it was earlier than you expected, and you texted Jeff to let him know you were on your way to the bar.

Since you were staying in the city overnight, you’d just left your car in the garage at work, sure that Jeff would give you a ride to work in the morning. You ordered an Uber to the bar, and in the backseat of the car, you reapply your lipstick and try your best not to feel nervous at the prospect of meeting more of Jeff’s teammates.

When you walk in, it’s easy to spot everyone, and Jeff’s back is to you as you approach. There’s an empty glass in front of him and another that’s only a third full in his hand, and when you’re close enough, you run your hand over his shoulder and lean to kiss his cheek. He looks at you and a grin spreads widely across his face as he greets you. Shrugging off your jacket, you glance around the table, and you’re happy to see some familiar faces. As you get settled into your seat, Jeff goes around the table to introduce everyone.

Ten minutes later and you’ve relaxed a little, chit-chatting with a few of the girls. You feel a little out of place, considering you’re still in the same black slacks and blouse that you’d worn to work earlier. Jeff’s hand is resting on your knee under the table, and it’s more than a little distracting. He finishes his second beer and squeezes your knee lightly to get your attention.

“I’m gonna go grab another drink, do you want anything?” he asks, grinning at you still and you notice a slight flush coloring his cheeks. “Yeah, I’ll go with you, I want to see what they’ve got on tap,” you tell him, tucking your hair behind your ear as you slip out of your seat.

The bar’s not very crowded, but there’s a short wait to order drinks and Jeff’s arm slips around your shoulders easily. You take the time to look at the draft listing on the wall, humming in thought quietly as you try to decide what you want.

“How was dinner?” he asks, warm as you lean into him slightly.

“It was nice, a good chance to catch up with some colleagues I don’t see very often,” you respond, tilting your head up to look at him. He drops his head to kiss you quickly, and you smile against his mouth, grateful that you’ve got this quick minute to catch up.

The two of you talk softly for a few more moments before it’s Jeff’s turn to order. He asks what you want and once you respond, he pulls away to step up to the bar. You fish your phone out of your pocket, texting Lydia the name of the bar in case she’d changed her mind about wanting to come out.

Someone behind you said your name, and you jumped slightly, turning to see who it was. You were greeted by a familiar face you hadn’t seen in a while, a friend from work that had taken a position in another city a few months earlier.

“Oh my god, Peter, hi!” you exclaim, grinning widely as you take a step closer to hug him quickly. “I didn’t know you were in town! I just had dinner with Vanessa and Gayle!” You’re practically beaming, still shocked to see him.

“My mom’s birthday is this weekend, so I figured that warranted a trip home. My brother dragged me out tonight,” he says, pointing over his shoulder. “How have you been? You look great. I wasn’t even sure it was you when I saw you, I know you and Lydia usually stick to Stella’s.”

The mention of Stella’s makes you snort softly, reminded of the number of times Peter had picked you and Lydia up after a night of drinking. “Trust me, I’d love to be at Stella’s right now,” you say, shrugging with a laugh. “I’m out with my boyfriend and his teammates, so I didn’t get to pick the bar.” You pause, glancing over your shoulder to see Jeff approaching you. “Oh, speaking of which, here he is.”

Jeff is clearly sizing Peter up as he hands you your beer, arm sliding around your shoulders in a rather protective manner as you thank him quietly for the drink. Peter looks rather surprised, clearly recognizing Jeff, and it’s an interesting few seconds to watch unfold.

“Uh, Peter, this is Jeff,” you say, breaking the short silence. “Jeff, Peter. We used to work together, but he transferred to an office out of state a while back.” Jeff clearly relaxes when he realizes Peter is someone you actually know rather than some random guy that wouldn’t leave you alone.

“Nice to meet you, man,” Peter says, offering his hand which Jeff shakes.

“Yeah, you too,” he responds quickly before glancing down at you. “I’m gonna head back to the table, okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right there,” you assure him, smiling quickly as he pulls away. As polite as ever, Jeff tells Peter to have a good night before taking off, and Peter gives you an impressed look that makes you snort.

“We’ve clearly got a lot of catching up to do,” he teases, making you roll your eyes with a grin as you take a sip of your drink.

“Yeah, we do. How long are you in town? I’m sure Lydia would love to see you too.”

“My flight takes leaves Monday morning. Let me see what I’ve got going on family-wise, and I’ve still got your numbers, so I’ll start a group chat to see if we can find a time to grab lunch or something,” he says, warm smile on his face. “I’ll let you get back to your friends though, yeah?”

You nod, taking a step forward to hug him tightly. “Sounds good. I’ll see you soon then,” you tell him, pulling back and already starting back toward the table with a wave.

Retaking your seat at the table, you rejoin the group midway through a debate over the Office versus Parks and Rec, and you’re content to listen as you take drinks from your glass here and there. You nudge Jeff with your knee gently under the table and from the corner of your eye, you see him grin as he nudges you back, his hand settling on your thigh a moment later.

Half an hour later as you’re finishing your beer, Jeff leans to kiss the side of your head, asking softly if you were ready to head out for the night. You tell him you’ll be ready to head out in another ten minutes or so, and he nods, finishing off his beer as well. His hand had moved a little higher on your thigh without you really noticing, and you can’t help the slight smirk that tugs at the corners of your mouth.

“You can go ahead and order a ride home if you want,” you tell him, enjoying the bit of color in his cheeks brought on by the beer. He nods and fishes his phone out of his pocket, and after a moment, he says the car will be there in five.

After slipping on your jacket, the two of you say your goodbyes, and you’re glad that Jeff had thought to invite you. Meeting more of his teammates made everything feel a lot more real, and there’s a content grin on your face as you headed out to the street, Jeff’s arm around you as you walked.

“Did you have a good time?” Jeff asks, kissing your hair softly as you lean into his frame. His eyes are on his phone, checking the make and model of the vehicle you were keeping an eye out for.

“Yeah, definitely,” you assure him, nodding quickly. “It’s nice getting to meet everyone, and running into Peter was a nice surprise too.” It’s then that the car pulls up, and Jeff is quick to open the door, letting you slide into the seat before joining you. He greets the driver and is already pulling you back to his side.

“You said you used to work with Peter?” he asked, and you looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. The question was innocent enough to come off as small talk, and you laugh it off softly as you rest your head on Jeff’s shoulder.

“Yeah, he worked in a different department though,” you explain, trying to stifle a yawn. It’s warm in the back of the car, enough so that it’s making you a little drowsy. “He’s a good guy. We made out a Christmas party one year, but Lydia was always far more into him than I was.”

Jeff makes a noise that you can’t determine the meaning of, and you snuggle in closer to his side.

“What, you jealous?” you ask, teasing tone to your voice. He shrugs, chuckling softly.

“Nah. I mean, I’ve made out with you at more Christmas parties than he has, so I feel like I’m in decent shape,” he responds, earning a laugh out of you.

“Yeah, you are, don’t worry,” you tell him, tilting your head up kiss his cheek softly.

The rest of the drive passes quickly, and you stay tucked into Jeff’s side. You’d only had the one drink, but Jeff had had a few more, and he was still tipsy, it was obvious in the way he toyed with your hair idly and the way he couldn’t seem to get you close enough.

In the elevator a few minutes later, Jeff crowds you up against the wall, grinning all the while as his hands settle on your hips. Before the doors are even closed, his mouth is on yours, kissing you sweetly as he squeezes you, hands moving up like he can’t keep them off you. You laugh quietly against his mouth, hand resting on his chest. When he pulls back, you grin, enjoying the sight of his flushed cheeks as his hands start to wander along your waist over the fabric of your blouse.

“You look awfully happy,” you tease, laughing again as he leans in again, this time attaching his lips to your neck. Your head immediately lolls to the side, a breathy sigh leaving you as his mouth moves over your pulsepoint.

“I am,” he says, words mumbled against your skin. “Why wouldn’t I be? I’ve got you all to myself for the rest of the night.” The words make you roll your eyes as a grin tugs at your mouth, and before you can respond, the elevator chimes before the doors open.

Jeff untangles himself from you with a begrudging sound, like it’s the hardest thing he’s ever done, and you chuckle as your hand finds his to tug him out of the elevator with you. As he fishes for his keys, you hug him, leaning into his chest and nuzzling into his collar bone while he gets the door open.

Inside, you slip out of your jacket and kick your shoes off, sighing softly as you hear Jeff moving around behind you. He says your name a second later, and you turn to look at him, grinning at the fact that he’s already reaching for you. Your arms start to slip around his neck, but his hands catch your wrists, pinning them above your head as he presses you against the wall just inside the door. It catches you by surprise, earning a gasp out of you as you instinctively arch to press closer to him.

When he kisses you, it’s rough, hungry, and you moan against his mouth as he keeps you pressed against the wall. His hand on your wrists is tight, but not uncomfortably so, and the fact that you’re not able to touch him has you growing impatient pretty quickly. Jeff tastes like beer, but you hardly care, and you let your teeth catch on his bottom lip, something that never fails to get a groan out of him.

You’re already panting by the time he pulls away just enough to kiss down the column of you throat, sucking at your skin. He’s nosing along the collar of your shirt and one hand leaves your wrists to drop to your waist. His hand slips under the hem of your top, hot against your skin as it moves up to brush his fingers along the band of your bra.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he murmurs into your cleavage, groaning into your skin. His tongue slides over the top of your breast and you shiver, breathing his name as your clit throbs. You arch your back, trying to press closer to him and he releases your other wrist to tug your shirt off over your head.

He grins down at you as he drops the fabric to the floor next to your feet, and the darkness in his eyes sends heat down your spine. You can’t stop yourself from reaching for him again, hands cupping his face as you pull his mouth back to yours. The kiss is rather sloppy, with Jeff humming against your mouth in a way that makes your insides turn to mush as heat pools between your thighs.

“Jeff, bedroom,” you breathe against his mouth, arm slipping around his neck despite the fact that you should be pulling away to drag him toward his room.

“Wanna make you cum first,” he responds, mouth barely leaves yours as he speaks. The quick statement makes your cheeks flush, and you do your best to ignore it. You don’t have the chance to respond before he’s pressing his body against yours firmly so you’re pinned back against the wall again.

You squirm slightly, legs pressing together, and you can already feel that you’re soaked. It’s so easy to get lost in the kiss that you’re mind goes blank as his tongue slides along yours, barely even aware of the fact that his hand is moving to unfasten you’re bra. He pulls the fabric away from your body and he leans back to look down at your newly exposed skin. Jeff looks incredible then, lips parted and slightly swollen, catching his breath as he takes the time to admire your tits.

He realizes he’s staring, and his eyes lift to yours and he’s smirking as he drops his head again. Jeff leaves another line of hot, sucking kisses down your sternum as his hands move over your waist like he can’t touch you enough. His mouth ghosts over your nipple and you gasp, hand sliding up his neck to run your fingers through his hair.

When you glance down at him, he’s looking up at you, and you can feel your flush creeping down your neck as you let your head rest back against the wall. A curse leaves you as he sucks a mark into the side of your breast, humming contently as he does so. He unfastens your trousers and you arch your hips toward him as pushes the fabric down your thighs. You kick them off easily, somehow managing not to trip as you toe them away. Jeff pulls back to look at you, cocky grin on his face as you squirm, pulling him back to you.

“Fuck, I love you,” you tell him, kissing him hard as you start unbutton his shirt. His hand slides up your waist to cup your breast, thumb rubbing over your nipple firmly and you make a needy whine that gets caught in your throat. Your fingers are shaking as you work at the last few buttons, cursing under your breath impatiently.

“Love you too, baby,” he murmurs, pulling back with a wide smirk in response to the sound you made. He leans away enough to slip out of his shirt and drop it to the floor, and you lick your lips as your eyes slid down his familiar frame. “I’ve been thinking about having you like this all day.” His words are soft, but there’s no mistaking the dark tone of it and he’s looking down at you as he presses closer.

When he kisses you again, he slips his hand into your panties easily, both of you groaning in unison when his fingers slip between your folds. Your hips immediately push toward his, and your arm loops around his neck for support as you swayed on your feet slightly. When you glance up at him, he’s watching you, and your clit throbs as his fingers sweep over it lightly.

Your hips rock against his hand slightly and you moan into Jeff’s mouth as his tongue slides over yours. His other hand drops from your waist to tug your panties down, and you shimmy enough to get them down to your ankles so you can kick them off. Jeff makes a sound of appreciation and you laugh softly, arms tightening around his neck to keep him from pulling away.

“So wet, sweetheart,” he breathes against your mouth and you nod slightly, biting his bottom lip as two of his fingers tease at your entrance. You can hear the sound of your arousal as his fingers just barely dip into you, and you huff with impatience.

Jeff’s smirk is obvious, and his mouth leaves yours to press a kiss to your cheek before moving down your jaw. He sinks two fingers into you and you sigh with relief, head falling back to rest against the wall behind you. Taking advantage of your new position, Jeff’s mouth settles on your pulsepoint and you curse under your breath as his fingers curl inside you.

“Fuck, Jeff,” you whine, feeling his fingertips against your g-spot. He lets the blunt edge of his teeth drag over your skin and your eyes squeeze closed as his thumb rubs a circle against your clit. Your toes curl against the floor as your hips rock firmly against his hand, wanting his fingers deeper inside you.

He’s sucking a mark against the side of your breast as he slips a third finger into you, and your back arches as you cry out for him. The heel of his hand starts grinding firmly against your clit with each motion of his fingers, and you curse again, barely able to tell which way is up by that point. Jeff keeps close to you, mouth eventually moving against your collarbone as he curses into your skin.

You’re grateful that he’s clearly not in the mood to do much teasing, quickly setting a rather rough rhythm as his fingers fuck into your cunt. With your arm around him, your nails dig into his shoulder and you arch in an effort to get more skin to skin contact. You almost hate that it’s so easy for him to make you unravel for him like this, barely even inside the door, but right now, it feels way too good to even care.

Your body feels like it’s on fire, sure that you’re flushed from head to toe as you squirm impatiently, hips moving against his hand. He’s standing so close to you, using one knee to keep your legs open, and when you rock against him, it’s impossible not to notice the line of his cock through his pants. Your hand slides up his neck to tangle in his short curls and your mouth drops open, but no sound comes out.

“You’re already close, aren’t you?” he asks, voice low as looks down at you. Forcing your eyes open to look at him, you nod, feeling yourself tighten around his fingers as a smirk slides onto his face.

His mouth crashes into yours in a rough, needy kiss that you moan into. Jeff licks into your mouth and you melt back against the wall, hips still grinding hard against his hand while his fingers curl roughly inside you.

His mouth leaves yours to look down in you, eyes moving slowly over your kiss swollen lips and taking in your dazed expression. The motion of his fingers picks up, taking you by surprise and nearly knocking the wind out of you. You press your lips together to stifle a filthy groan, and Jeff’s other hand lifts to cup your breast, teasing over your nipple to make you arch for him.

“I wanna hear you, sweetheart. Wanna hear you say my name when you cum,” he says, tugging at your nipple teasingly. His smirk is back, and you’re so close that you can’t even respond to him, eyes rolling back as your face creases with pleasure. “Shit, Jeff, oh my god,” you pant, the last syllable dragging out into a whine as you’re finally pushed over the edge.

The orgasm hits you hard, body tensing as your nails brush over his scalp. Clinging to him desperately, your curse again under your breath, rocking down to practically fuck yourself onto his fingers. Your throat’s dry from all of the whining and moaning you’ve done and your voice sounds wrecked as you breath his name. It feels like every nerve in your body is raw and exposed, and you’re grateful to have the wall behind you to lean against.

Your heart is thundering in your eyes as your orgasm slows, Jeff’s fingers still rocking against your core, gentler now like he’s guiding you down. It’s impossible to keep your eyes open any longer, so you let them close, already trying to guide Jeff’s mouth back to yours.

“I love you, holy shit,” you murmur between lazy kisses. You have to pull away frequently for a quick breath, he’s grinning at you when you open your eyes again.

“Love you too, more than anything,” he responds, sounding relaxed and sincere.

With a sigh, you bring a hand up to push your hair back, still trying to catch your breath as he pulls his fingers from you. You can see that the three fingers a slick with your wetness and you lick your lips. Like he’s read your mind, he slips the three digits into your mouth, and you immediately moan again at the taste of yourself on his thick fingers. Jeff’s breathing seems to pick up as he watches you, and you look up at him through your eyelashes as you suck his digits clean.

“Time to head to bed?” he asks you as he pulls his fingers from your lips, leaning to kiss you again, just as hard as he had earlier. You hum loudly, nodding as much as you can without breaking the kiss. Looping your arms around his neck, you rock your hips toward his to make him moan.

With a frustrated sounding sigh, Jeff pulled away, and you laugh as his hand slid into yours to pull you toward his room. The line of his cock straining against his pants is obvious by then, hence his urgency. You can tell that his shoulders are tense, and there’s a slight flush creeping up the back of his neck that makes you grin.

Closing his bedroom door behind you, his hands are on you immediately, gripping your hips and pulling your body against his. Breasts pressing against his chest, you tug at his bottom lip with your teeth as your hands move to unfasten his pants eagerly. He groans into your mouth when you drag his zipper down, hand stroking him through his boxers. You push his pants down his hips easily and he pulls away to kick them away, eyes lifting to yours again.

He’s grinning a bit, and his hand comes up to cup your jaw, guiding your mouth back to his. His arm loops around your waist, keeping you close as he walks you toward his bed, patience clearly dwindling. When the back of your thighs hits the mattress, Jeff kisses your shoulder after pulling back, reaching for the drawer of his nightstand for a condom.

You sit on the edge of the bed, leaning back with your weight resting on your hands as you watch him. He glances at you over the shoulder, shaking his head quickly, and your eyebrows raise in confusion.

“Turn over for me,” he tells you, sending heat down your spine. You move quickly, feeling how slick you are as you shift, knees and elbows pressing into the bed.

You don’t realize how close he is, because when Jeff’s hand settles low on your back, you jump slightly, both of you laughing a second later. His hand moves up your spine slowly and you shiver, already pressing back toward him.

“I could get used to this view, sweetheart,” he murmurs, sliding down his hips and opening the condom. The words make heat rise up your neck despite the goosebumps rise along your skin.

Biting your lip, you glance back at him quickly and he has the audacity to smirk at you before smacking your ass firmly to make you yelp in surprise, the noise fading into a moan. Given your reaction, he does it again, as your head drops and you rock back toward him with an impatient sound.

“Fuck, Jeff, c’mon,” you mutter, teeth clenched as you feel your clit throb.

“So goddamn needy, huh, y/n?” he responds, pulling you closer to the edge of the mattress. You glance back at him, licking your lips as you see him roll the condom on his length. You’re so desperate for him by then that the sight of his cock is almost enough to make your mouth water.

About to make another impatient noise, you feel his hand grip your hip as he starts to drag the head of his cock along your folds. A shiver runs down your spine again, and you moan as you rest more weight on your elbows to pop your hips a little higher for him. The display of eagerness makes him chuckle softly, positioning himself at your entrance and using the hand on your hip to pull you back onto his length.

A string of curses leaves you as your head falls forward, a high sound getting trapped in your throat as he fills you. Your grip on the sheet tightens, and you breathe his name, already trying to press back toward him more. His hand soothes over your back gently, calloused fingers moving over the bumps of your spine, and you can feel your pussy throbbing around his cock as you wait for him to move more.

“Jeff, please,” you murmur, eyes falling shut as he grips your hips with both hands.

“Please what, baby?” he asks, the cockiness in his voice making you want to scream.

“Shit, want you to fuck me,” you respond, voice low as he thumb brushes over your skin lightly.

He hasn’t taken you like this before, you realize, and you’re not used to not being able to touch him, kiss him, or pull at his hair. That lack of contact seems to be making you extra needy as you grind back against him as hard as you can. That earns a curse out of him and he sighs easily, rutting against you enough that his cock drags over your g-spot to make you moan.

You shift slightly so your chest is pressing against bed and he repeats the motion, harder this time. The new angle is exponentially better, and you push your hair out of your face, mouth dry from how heavily you’ve been breathing. He’s settling into a rhythm, but it’s not nearly enough for you, not yet, and you rock back to meet his hips roughly. Groaning his name, you twist the sheets beneath you, your skin feeling absolutely electrified as his hand moves over your back slowly.

He has a way of making you feel so stunning, just from how he always takes the time to savor you like this. It had taken a while to get used to, not to feel the need to cover yourself when he acted like you were the most perfect thing in the world.

“Harder, Jeff, please,” you whine as your cunt tightens around him. It’s like you can feel every ridge and vein of his cock as he sinks into you, each movement slick and leaving you desperate for more.

His response is to grunt, slapping your ass harder than before and your clit throbs for attention. Another curse leaves you, and he does as you’d requested, hand returning to your hips to start pounding into you. You’re absolutely soaked, you can feel it, hear it even, and you’re so focused on trying to catch your breath that when he spanks you again, you cry out in surprise.

“You feel so fucking good, baby, and you look incredible, taking my cock like this,” he tells you, humming under his breath a second later. You nod as best as you can, face half pressed into the mattress in an effort to quiet the constant moans that were leaving you.

He felt so much thicker in this position, and with your hips popped up like this, he was hitting all the right spots that had you teetering on the edge of an orgasm all over again. You’re grateful for his firm hold on your hips, because you’re not sure you’d be able to keep yourself upright otherwise.

Your body is tense, knowing you’re toeing the edge now and damn near desperate for it, your pussy squeezing tight around him. Shifting your weight slightly, you move one hand to settle between your thighs to give your clit the attention it’s aching for. Jeff makes a sound approval, groaning as he adjusts his hold on your hips as your eyes roll back.

“Mmph, god, Jeff,” you breathe, gasping out a curse a second later. Your toes curl as you cum, eyes squeezing shut as you all but sob into the mattress.

Jeff fucks you through it, hard, still squeezing your hips tightly to keep you in place despite your efforts to grind back against him for more friction. His thrusts seem almost targeted, hitting your g-spot with each motion and you’re practically slumped against the sheets as you babble out his name, nearly incoherently.

Still rubbing rough circles against your clit, your hand is suddenly drenched and Jeff curses behind you, his rhythm faltering slightly. You’re still gripping the comforter like your life depends on it, hips starting to ache from holding the position for so long, but fuck, it just feels too good to even attempt moving. You know he has to be close, the dropped rhythm always so telltale, and you’re panting his name with a throaty groan.

Your head is buzzing by the time you’re able to tell which way is up, forehead pressed to the mattress as you try to catch your breath. You’re less dazed then and pressing back toward Jeff as he slides a hand higher on your waist, his short nails grazing over your skin.

“Want you to cum for me, baby,” you murmur, voice low. When you push your hair back out of your face, your hairline is damp with sweat, your body hot.

He groans and squeezes your waist, your name leaving his lips as slams into you again before grinding hard against you. A slew of curses leaves him as he cums, your clit throbbing from hearing how wrecked he sounds. You rock back toward him to savor feeling off him coming undone for you, groaning as your pussy tightens around him. He’s breathing heavily, his hold on you loosening as you grin to yourself lazily, feeling satisfied as he pulls out.

“Shit, y/n,” Jeff says, sounding exhausted as he taps your ass with a chuckle before stepping away. You laugh with him easily, grinning as you let yourself fall onto your side, the muscles of your hips feeling sore for holding the position for so long.

Stretching out along the bed, you watch Jeff move about, removing the condom before putting it in the bin next to his nightstand. He glances at you, eyes taking in your naked frame as if you hadn’t been naked this whole time, and he’s smirking like he’s proud of himself. You scoff lightly, amused, and nudge at his thigh with your foot, feeling dampness against your calf where it rested on the edge of the bed.

“Shit, why is the blanket wet?” you ask, yawning as Jeff opens a drawer of his dresser to grab clothes.

“Uh, I think you squirted,” Jeff responds, glancing over his shoulder at you. He looks quite smug and you raise your eyebrows. “You want leggings?”

“Huh. Well, that’s new,” you say before nodding in response to his questions. Jeff tosses you a pair of leggings as well as panties from the drawer that had turned into yours. A shirt of his comes next and you grin at the fact that he’d done it automatically.

Finally confident that your legs will work, you stand to get dressed, and by the time you’re pulling your shirt on, Jeff is settling into bed. With a tired sigh, you join him, getting cozy between the sheets and he quickly moves to hold you, pressing his face into your chest.

Your hand comes up to push through his slightly damp curls and you grin contently as he nuzzles into you. He lifts his head a second grinning up at you then pressing a kiss to your mouth.

“I love you,” you murmur, kissing him again.

“Love you too, baby,” he says, stifling a yawn and settling his head on your shoulder.

You’re still playing with his hair with one hand as you reach for your phone that you’d left on the nightstand earlier, making sure you’d remembered to set alarms for the morning. “It’s only 11, did you want to watch something before bed?” you ask, kissing his forehead before yawning yourself.

“You can put something on if you want, but I can’t guarantee I’ll stay awake for more than 20 minutes,” he tells you, already sounding quite sleepy. You nod, chuckling as you pull away enough to turn off the lamp on the nightstand.

The two of you end up staying awake longer than expected, curled up together and talking quietly in the dark. He’s warm and familiar, head still settled on your shoulder with his arm around your waist securely. It seemed like that was his favorite way to sleep and you surely didn’t mind, toying with his hair idly.

You made plans to grab breakfast in the morning, and you fell asleep thinking about breakfast pastries and the sweet man you’re curled up with.

#jeff skinner imagine #jeff skinner smut #buffalo sabres imagine #bybtm #**#Idk how I even used to tag these???

144 notes · View notes

carryonmywaywardwriters · 6 years ago

Text

Love How You Hate Me - Sam x Reader

A/N: Work, work, work. And finally write. I SHOULD have time this coming weekend to post the next chapter, as well. So, the wait won’t be quite as long this time. If you want tagged, please send an ask or message so I am sure to see it. And, I hope you all enjoy <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Sexual Tension. Porn descriptions. Pre-smut. Upcoming smut.

Word Count: Roughly 3,300

“Sam!” You shrieked. The high pitched rage echoed through the empty walls as you stormed forward. Out for blood.

You'd finally broke. It took three weeks. Three long weeks. But, he finally did it. Ripped away the self control you'd fought so hard to hold in place.

He'd put the snake in the toilet first. Using the ammo you'd unintentionally offered up on a silver platter. Although, Sam put his predecessors to shame. Ensuring not to injure the poor creature while torturing you. Seran-wrap held it away from the germ-filled bowl. A note warning the toilet was out of order left you to pick up the lid. Only to have the slithering beast come at you.

A large spider under your pillow. Crickets all over your room. Both came with notes to ensure their safety. But, didn't lessen the frustration.

Your favorite pair of shoes weren't safe. Nothing was sacred in the younger Winchester's eyes. He glued them to the floor. Leaving you with two possibilities. To fall. Or to go without until you could get them unstuck. You'd face planted.

Shampoo, conditioner, and body wash were filled with food coloring. You had purple tints to your skin even after scrubbing until the water turned to ice. Trying to focus on the fact that you were the better person got you nowhere.

And that wasn't the end to his tricks. He'd taken notes from the biggest trickster he'd- and the planet- had ever known. But, it was something ridiculously simple that made you lose that final shred of sanity.

He'd simply taken your favorite coffee creamer. Using the final bit himself. Then, he'd replaced it with water. The mildest trick in his little black note book.

Five minutes. That's all it took to level the playing field. A deep, roar of fury echoed down the hall. Without flinching, you leaned against the wall, arms crossed. Waiting next to the water main. It took mere seconds for him to locate you.

“Give me one- damn good- reason why I shouldn't strangle you.” He hissed out, stalking your way. Still dripping. Goosebumps raised along his flesh as he held his towel in place around his hips.

“You'd end up naked, and Dean would assume it was some kinky sex thing gone wrong. Then, you'd get all the blame.” You answered, letting your eyes skim over his soaked chest hair that trailed down to somewhere more promising. Your voice dropped even lower at the sight. “Breath play is making a come back, though...”

His skin was golden, taunt over the muscles. His anti-possession tattoo had recently been touched up, and stood out darkly across the wet flesh. His hair was slicked back, emphasizing that he'd run his hand through it from the frustration you caused.

The total package only served to raise your ire. He was stunning. The man even smelled amazing over the distance between you two.

“Not good enough,” Sam moved forward. Intent on murder after the briefest moment of thought. Too clear on what he planned for you to stand. “Dean's out.”

“You know what else wasn't good enough?” Came the question. All husky and filled with promise. Hazel eyes deepened at that. Nostrils flared. It was your turn to take a step his way. Stopping just as your shirt absorbed some of the water off of his body. “The water trick.”

Your hand came out and snatched the towel away from his waist. Bolting, you didn't wait for him to catch on. Using surprise to give yourself half a chance.

“Y/N!” His bellowing nearly shattered your ear drums.

You didn't turn back. The wet plod of his footsteps was too close. But, it wasn't good enough. You found your escape. A small zig zag bought you a single, crucial second. His hand missed the back of your shirt as you turned. Right into his room.

The door was slammed and locked before Sam could process what had happened. Breathing hard, you leaned against the wood. Laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation you'd found yourself in.

“When you get out, we're settling this!” He yelled out. His fists slamming into the wood; shaking your body in the process. You weren't completely sure what he intended by that comment, but surely it couldn't get worse than being chased by a naked, pissed off Sasquatch.

“Oh, what's this?” You asked loudly, seeing his open laptop resting on his covers. A rookie move if you'd ever seen one. “What's your password to your laptop?”

As you slid over to his bed, you made an ever better discovery. He hadn't locked it. “I swear to God, Y/N-”

“Oh god,” You wrinkled your nose. Realizing what was on the screen. A press of the mouse set the moaning off loud and hard. It didn't take long to find fault over the renewed slamming. “Dude, you need better porn! This chick's tits look like they're going to explode from all of the silicone!” You titled your head as you watched it switch perspectives. “Plus, the dude really needs to learn how to use his tongue better. I hope you weren't taking notes, Sammy!” You didn't get anything in response. Instead, the slamming ended. A heart attack was your logical response. Sure that even the healthiest of the healthy men couldn't handle the blood pressure you were certain he carried. “Sammy, Sammy.” You shook your head as the first moan left the too largely busted woman. She'd climbed over sir-can't-eat-a-woman-out's lap to begin riding him. “You naughty, naughty boy.” It was an impressive collection you'd discovered as you snooped. His folder held a number of suggestive names. The thumbnails were even more racy. Nothing compared to what you'd accidentally stumbled across when using Dean's laptop. However, still large enough to make you lift your brows. “Looks like I'm not the only sex deprived one...”

“That could have been fixed a long time ago.” The sudden proximity of his voice made you fly away from the porn in a hurry. Ready to flee for the second time. Sure your very life depended on it.

Only, there was a problem. Nearly six and a half foot of muscle blocked your exit. Slowly, you lowered yourself back to the bed. Keeping your eyes on him as you moved. Hoping the location would give you another chance to distract the beast.

A white t-shirt stuck to damp skin. Highlighting just how broad he was beneath the fabric. His hair still dripped. The jeans clung to his legs. But, he didn't seem to care. Too set on his hunt.

“Oh, yes.” You huffed, leaning your head onto your one hand as you looked up at him. Making yourself appear comfortable, despite being eager to flee. “Let me just agree to sleep with the very man that has done his best to either ignore my presence, or just torture me. The entire time I’ve known him. That couldn't possibly end bad for me.” Your sass was going to be the death of you if his flushed cheeks and narrowed, darkened eyes were any indication.

“Y...You preach about how I...I don't know a thing about you...While you kn...know everything there is to know about me,” He leaned his hip against his desk. Attempting to settle down. Watching for any sign you were about to bolt. Almost immediately, his composure was back. “But, then you go and say something ridiculous like that.” Don't look at the biceps, you chanted internally as he crossed his arms. You definitely peeked before forcing your eyes away.

“You wouldn't take advantage of that?” You snorted, growing defensive. He simply gave you a small, toned down, bitch face. Not bothering to dignify the question with any other response. “Okay, fine. Say I believe you.” Your tone let him know that wasn't remotely close to being the case. “What would I get from it?”

“Fantastic sex-”

“Arguable.”

“No more pranks.”

“Now, we're getting somewhere.” The mocking tone only earned an eye roll.

“Alright, then... What would your terms be?” He raised a brow. Daring you to give him something to work with. Your response was simply a raised brow of your own. Not buying into his bullshit all the way. “Theoretically, of course.”

“Of course.” The amendment was shit, and you both knew it. Pursing your lips, you thought it over. With a sigh, you decided to give him a little something. “First off? No strings attached. No emotions. Ever.” A brief pause settled between you two before you continued, “Not that it's a problem with you.” A wry grin graced that sinful mouth of his. Pleased with the turn of events. You turned away from the dimples to zero in on the hypothetical rules. “Second? Privacy. Dean, Bane, and Alice? They wouldn't have a clue. Ever.” The horror at just the thought of them finding out how low you'd fallen curdled your stomach. It was the ultimate deal breaker. “Third? No sleeping together or cuddling. Sex only.” It was surprisingly easy to list once you got going. “Fourth, minor pranking is allowed. They'd know something was up if it just stopped.” He nodded at that point. Seeing the wisdom in it. “Fifth-”

“You...You've made a whole list, and you're going to try saying that you haven't really considered it?” Sam cut in with a heavy snort. “You're something else. I don't even think stubborn covers it, anymore.”

“No freaky stuff.” You continued as if he'd never spoken up. Focusing in on the list. If you stopped, he'd take advantage of it. And you weren't prepared for that. “No blood. No choking. Nothing going in areas where they don't belong.” Your fingers ticked off each point. It wasn't that you were opposed to everything you'd listed. Simply that you were opposed to it with Sam. There was no pre-established trust. No grounds for safety. You wouldn't risk it. “I couldn't possibly trust you to tie me up, either, so that's out.” At the sigh of disappointment, Sam's shoulders seemed to widen. Noting how close he was to his mark. “No marks in visible locations. Too much of a give away. Definitely no recording. There's always the trope of a leaked sex tape, and I just am not about to let anyone see me getting down and dirty with you.”

“D...down and dirty? You cut out all the dirt,” He grinned, letting out a soft breath that doubled as a chuckle. Almost soft in nature, when you knew him to be anything but. “You wanna tell me what we can do, then?”

“This is all theoretical.” You reminded him. Falling short at being stern. Unable to even muster up a glare.

Truth was, you were losing your damn mind when it came to Sam Winchester. And were far too close to giving into the danger. You both knew it, even if you were struggling to keep it at bay. Too distrustful.

“Of course.” He waved for you to get on with it. More confident at that point than he'd been before. “Go on.”

The sass was ignored as the list came back to focus, “Sixth, condoms are an absolute must. It breaks? I get the morning after pill. Immediately.”

“You aren't getting an argument from me there.” Sam's eyes were a rich honey as they watched you hungrily. Taking in the way you shifted on his bed. Next to his porn. And at his mercy.

“Seventh-”

“Y/N...” The impatience took hold. His chest rose and fell harshly at the peak of your breasts. So close...and yet, so untouchable.

“Yes, Samuel?” You mocked, not letting your eyes meet his directly. Instead, you zeroed in on the light curl his hair carried at the ends.

“Are you done? 'Cause I've got a few ideas...” Sam moved forward, then. Slapping his palms down on his mattress. Forcing you to stare into the multicolored facets right in front of your face.

“Where's Dean?” Sitting up, the power shifted. Giving you some control over the situation, again. You weren't beneath him. Under his spell.

“He won't be back until late tomorrow.” Oh so carefully, he stalked your way. Not willing to let you dodge him. Delaying the inevitable for a second time.

“What's he doing?” The question was another stall tactic, but the Winchester was prepared. As your back brushed against the wall, he blocked the exit beside the bed.

“I'm betting that he's doing what you're putting off...” Hot gaze trailing over you, Sam took a step forward. But, it was too late. The damage had been done.

“Oh, that is not helping your case.” Thinking of your best friend banging a stranger broke the spell completely. Sam blocked your path. However, he didn't block the bed itself. You hopped up and over the mattress. Making your way to freedom. “Go back to your crap porn.”

“I'd rather go down on you.” That caught your attention in a hurry. Your head whipped around. Only to see him cross his arms. Daring you to take what he'd so blatantly offered.

“Hate sex never ends well.” You warned. Feeling your resolve crumbling. The Winchester had won. “You think we're bad now...wait until this is done.” Your fingers moved to grab your shirt and whip it off. Jaw clenched in frustration. The war between mind and body lost for the moment.

“So,” Sam's voice made you jerk your head up. Waiting to see his offer. “We don't do it.”

“Wait, what?” You weren't following. You'd just given in. He should have been pouncing like a wild animal. Not retreating.

But, Sam did, “Guess it's just you and me...” He pulled the laptop back his way. Without looking at you, he simply uttered one last order. “You can go, now.”

“You are the world's biggest dick!” An indignant squeal left you as you slammed out of the room. So sure that you'd been played.

“Right now, I wish that was true...” The hunter sighed, pushing the device from his side. If he was? He would've taken you right then and there. Instead, he'd signed himself up for an indefinite length of celibacy.

–

“I figured it out,” Your voice broke through the world of Harry Potter as you entered the room later that night. Without missing a beat, the strip tease began. The pajama shirt you'd donned was tossed away. Leaving you in a frilly, lace thong that hardly covered what lay beneath it.

“Yeah?” He focused on the book instead of you. Or, rather, pretended to be. All of his senses were latched onto you.

“You wanted me to do the work.” You huffed out theatrically as you moved to the edge of his bed. But, that wasn't good enough. Oh no. That was only the beginning. Crawling onto his bed, you moved his way. Not stopping until you'd completed your goal: Straddling him.

“Oh really?” His book was dropped off to the side. Good ole Harry fighting the good fight simply didn't compare to an almost completely naked woman settled over his dick.

“Well, you probably wanted me to beg.” You shrugged, moving your hands to rub along his chest. So confident that it was criminal. A totally different woman than he'd had in his grasp earlier. “But, that just won't happen.”

It was more than just that. He'd wanted you to make the move. To make sure he wasn't just manipulating you into it. Ensuring you wanted him as much as he wanted you.

Sam needed you to know that it was going to be entirely consensual. Something you hadn't quite realized you'd needed until that moment. And damn if it didn't make your heart squeeze just a little bit.

“Is that a challenge, Y/N?” He grinned, flashing those too big dimples your way. Simply pleased rather than his usual arrogance.

“If you think you can last...” You trailed off pointedly. Eyes meeting his directly. Making sure he knew that you hadn't forgotten that very first moment of pining.

Your finger lightly traced a pattern on his shirt- just over where his tattoo was etched. Two similar patterns had been needled into your own flesh. One on your hip, and one under your breast. The second hidden after a demon had thought to scrape away at the first.

“I...I...I know I can.” Came the breathy promise. Slightly nervy. He let his gun calloused hands rub along your bare thighs. Noting the way you arched into his touch that time rather than away.

“Glad you don’t doubt it.” Bending forward, you pressed your lips into his neck so gently it was criminal. The action letting your bare breasts brush against his t-shirt. Causing a shiver to travel through his body. “But, I'm going to need a little more convincing.” Your lips pressed against his throat again. Firmer this time. Sam's fingers dug into the meat of your legs. Grounding himself as best as he could to sanity.

“You're sure about this?” The question came through gritted teeth. Needing to hear you say the words. Not just imply it.

“Right now?” Again, your gaze came up to meet his. Letting him see the lingering doubts that hid behind the E/C. “This makes no sense...” A small moment of hesitation appeared. Leaving you almost vulnerable as you dipped your forehead to his. Still warring with the idea in that too full head of yours.

“Which is why it's so alluring.” Came his soft answer. Sam's hands left the skin of your legs to gently hold your cheeks. Tilting his head up, his nose brushed against the tip of your own. “Tell me you don't wanna, and this ends. Alright? But...if you do? It'll be alright. Promise...”

After a moment of silence, Sam finally got his answer, “Okay.” Nodding, you closed your eyes. Taking a second. Simply letting your breath mingle with his. When they opened? Sam knew you made your final choice. Slowly, your hands ran back over the thin material of his shirt. Biting your lip, you looked him over. Your hands reached back up to hold his face still. Giving yourself a moment to breathe before he could lunge. Back to the girl who'd walked in his door and knocked him off his feet. “I don't even know where to start with you, Winchester.”

“Y...yeah?” Another nod was all he got as you pondered over it. “Luckily for you?” Sam's husky voice captured your attention away from his thick chest. “I do.” With that, he tugged your body against his. Rolling you with a well practiced spin until you were pinned beneath him.

“You sure I won't suffocate down here?” Came the breathless whisper. Needing to have that final piece of confirmation that you'd be safe.

“Y/N...” The too large hand moved surprisingly gentle as it pushed a piece of hair away from your eye. Dimples in full swing. “Shut up.”

“Make me?” For once, Sam had no problems following your order...

Part Ten

Tag: @burningmusicmachine @missmarrinette @sherlockedtash88 @rathersuspiciousbumblebee @sasbb23 @nothinbuttrouble2 @baby-bunker-pie @neii3n @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @malfoysqueen14

Forever: @dean-winchesters-bacon @supernaturalginger

#supernatural #spn #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #supernatural reader insert #spn reader insert #sam #Sam Winchester #sam fanfiction #sam winchester fanfiction #sam x y/n #sam x you #sam x reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x y/n #sam reader insert #Sam Winchester reader insert

162 notes · View notes