#sinclair cameo

[sinnerofwalpurgisnacht]

Can this bus take me to yaoiville?

Unfortunately we went past that stop approximately two years ago. You'll have to catch another bus.

What? - Sinclair 🌿

This vexes me greatly. - 이상 🪶

[psychotic-nonsense]

Steve Harrington doesn't expect today to be anything special.

His kid, Dustin, is out in the garage hanging out with his friend Lucas. It's a calm spring evening, and there isn't a single call coming from the phone asking for his services. The former handy man turned jack of all trades has a day off, and he's taking the chance to catch up on the fantasy book Dustin picked up for him on his last trip to the library.

He's older than he once thought he could be, he's alive, and he's happy.

He's mid sip of his sweet tea - recipe courtesy of the Byers family - when someone suddenly comes in through the front door. Mr. Harrington jumps, closes the book with a dog-eared page ("Terrible habits, sir, terrible terrible habits," says a voice from the past in his head). But then Dustin walks into view, and while he's not entirely calmed, he's less startled.

"Hey there, big guy," his starts calmly, but his mood quickly sombers when he gets a full look at his son. "Everything okay?"

Something's off. Dustin's coming in through the front door, not the back door that's easier to get to from the garage. Lucas isn't with him, and Mr. Harrington's old acoustic guitar is in his hands ("Be careful, love, you might end up as our backup," says the voice with a wink he can still see). But most importantly, Dustin looks nervous. Sad, even, and Mr. Harrington never lets that kind of face linger long in this household.

"Yeah, I'm okay, dad..." Dustin mumbles, pausing in the front hall, staring down at the guitar. His eyes look far away. "I was just wondering, um... you know that band group that I'm friends with?" Dustin looks up, directing all of that pain right at his father, stabbing at his heart.

"Yeah, your buddies on that forum, right?" Mr. Harrington says cautiously. He's leaning forward on his knees now, book discarded to a side table to give Dustin his full attention. "Were they telling you something? Is Lucas okay?"

"No, yeah, Lucas is fine, his mom called," Dustin quickly mutters, briefly distracting the nervous tension in his face with a shaking head. He takes a deep breath, releasing it in one big huff as he holds the guitar tighter. "So, you remember how I told you we were all helping each other? You know, learning how to write songs?"

"Yeah?" Mr. Harrington affirms, gently encouraging him to go on.

"Well, um..." Dustin looks away again, down at his feet shuffling in the carpet. "The- the lead singer of that band? Said he wanted some feedback on one, so uh..." His eyes glance at the guitar in his arms before meeting his father's eyes again.

Mr. Harrington huffs a small sigh of relief, a smile overtaking him. Nothing's wrong, it's just Dustin wanting to share a song with his dad, and he's nervous. Mr. Harrington has nothing to worry about ("A one man crowd? Gotta make this really memorable then," says the voice, teasing words but a soft, scared, nervous tone). "Yeah yeah, of course, kid, I'd be honored."

But then why is Dustin still so tense when he nods? Why are his eyes still so sad when he sits on the couch opposite Mr. Harrington, while he tunes the guitar? Why does he keep looking at the empty space beside him, growing more anxious each time?

"Take your time buddy, it's okay," Mr. Harrington tries to reassure, but Dustin doesn't look up.

Instead he sits there, breathing deeply a few times. Looks over at the other end of the couch, blinks a few times before nodding to himself, turning back. His left hand runs over the frets a few times, other hand coming up to rub at his eyes-

Oh god, he's crying. And his dad is just sitting there, helpless and useless. Mr. Harrington's heart is impaled once again and he reaches up, wanting to try and fix this, to help.

But then Dustin's hands are settling on the guitar, determination joining the mix of sadness and anxiety, and Mr. Harrington is forced to sit back and watch.

Because Dustin starts playing.

He's heard the music from outside the garage walls. He's bought plenty of guitars for Dustin to play over the years, heard many types of genres coming from under the secrecy of that roof. It's Dustin's thing, his hidden passion outside of science and fantasy, so Mr. Harrington has let him have the privacy, keeping his pride tamed for his son's sake.

So to finally see Dustin playing is like pride tenfold, longing grasping his heart tight when he sees how Dustin leans into the music ("We're the few good ones left, dear... We just feel it differently from others, you know?" bemoans the voice in his head). How his eyes close, the tension in his body loosening as music echoes from the guitar's.

And it's a beautiful melody. Simple, like all good things are, but melancholic. Longing incarnate. Nothing he was expecting from this, but he never wants it to end. It feels like lost love, regrets...

But then the singing starts.

"First things first

We start the scene in reverse

All of the lines rehearsed

Disappear from my mind"

Faint and echoing. Barely audible at first, but steadily growing in sound as Dustin plays. Ethereal, Mr. Harrington remembers from the book. That describes it.

It's not Dustin, he's too focused on the guitar. And his voice cracks on words this quiet, his tone off no matter what genre he's singing along to. Gets it from his dad.

It's almost familiar. Sounds like home.

"When things got loud

One of us running out

I should have turned around

But I had too much pride"

Suddenly, something shifts in the air. It feels cold, like soft wind in a breath, then going tingly. The light pattering of winter's first snow.

There's a window behind Dustin, the evening light shining through the blinds and curtains lighting everything in a warm glow. If he wasn't watching Dustin, he wouldn't have seen it. The beams being cast on the couch beside Dustin are slightly bright... and are swiftly getting brighter.

"No time for goodbyes

Didn't get to apologize

Pieces of a clock that lies broken"

Before his eyes, the sunlight starts moving, swirling and disconnecting into little beads of light. It shifts colors, a gradient of orange and reds, purple and blue, a hazy cloud slowly materializing on the couch.

It's shaping into something, moving into specific sections to the music and words. Changing color all the while, blacks and reds appearing deeper, a figure coming through the shape. The voice keeps getting louder, screaming familiarity at Mr. Harrington-

Then in a flash, it solidifies, and everything else fades away. No room, no weather, no sense.

Just music and singing and... and him.

"If I could take us back

If I could just do that

I'd write in every empty space

The words 'I love you' in replace

And every time would not erase me"

He's sitting on the couch next to Dustin, almost laying down. Leaning back against the arm rest, knees bunched up on the cushion but shoes hanging off the side. His clothes look aged compared to nowadays, but it's the same flannel and black ripped jeans and chains as the faithful day they lost each other.

Oh god, his voice has the same gorgeous vibrato, words flowing from his lips like poetry. His hair has the same soft curly bounce, product keeping it infinitely safe. His face, his hands, his presence remains unchanged.

He's not looking up, doesn't have to for those deep amber doe eyes to be so visible. He's messing with his rings while he sings, watching the silver glint in the light that created him. Doesn't hide how sad, how longing and lonely he looks and sounds here in this place.

A hand is coming up to Mr. Harrington's chest, tears blotting his vision and he's not ashamed of blinking them into reality, can't let himself look away from this.

It's him, it's him, dear god, the man he thought he lost over 30 years ago, the man he thought left behind their love by choice while he had never let it go, who's voice and presence never left his mind, who he thought would come back but never did and couldn't have, he's ghostly and gone, he's gone but it's him, his love, Steve's love, finally here after so long...

"If you could only know

I never let you go

And the words I most regret

Are the ones I never meant to leave..."

His voice starts cracking, that sweet pretty voice breaking. His face crumbles, hands trembling and it breaks Steve in two and he wants to reach out and help, he wants but he can't-

Then he finally looks up. Their eyes meet and there's relief and longing and pain and sorrow in both of their eyes because they're seeing each other, finally finally finally, after so long...

"Unsaid Emily..."

Sung in a whisper to the strumming of his son.

Munson.

Eddie Munson.

Steve's sweet, dear Eddie Munson.

He came back...

He finally came home...

[yozzers]

idiot cramming shit before spring semester kills them pt 2

first img inspired by that trend of redrawing that one specific panel from kotteri's Veil

[ghost-of-kreacher]

you know im fairly surprised that even though sinclair is probably the closest to ryoshu, they have yet to have ids that actually work together

[little-bumblebeeee]

hey! would you mind doing dustin x fem!reader...? about anything really, i just need more fics of him because i love him and i barely ever see any

phew, sorry, life got my ass before I could start this lmao. I got sick again but luckily my new house doesn't have nasty shit in the walls so let's hope this gets better 👍

Anyways, have some awkward teenage flirting and confessions with 641 words ♡

You only said yes when you were asked by a teacher if you wanted to sign up for camp Know-Where because you thought she said camp Nowhere, but next thing you knew you were on a bus full of nerds. Like, textbook nerds. The kids behind you just kept going on and on about science stuff and it gave you a headache. And when you turned around to tell them to shut up, you met Dustin.

Now you can't seem to shake him away from you, even a year later.

"C'mon, just sit in on this session to see if you like it!" Dustin says, trying to convince you to get into d&d for what seems like the millionth time in the span of this short year in which you've known each other.

"For the last time, I have better things to do, Dustin. Speaking of, you have a book report that you can't afford to get an F on if you wanna keep a good grade." You remind him, sticking a finger into his shoulder, watching red bloom in his cheeks as he rolls his eyes and walks past you into the drama room where Hellfire is held. Unfortunately, even though you prefer being alone, you don't like going places by yourself, so you have to jog to catch up with him.

You've never seen him like this before, his eyes wide and lips parted just barely as he listens so intently to Eddie's theatrical speech, you think not even a tornado passing through would shake him. You sit away from the table, watching as he yells and cheers, going through the most colorful range of emotions you've ever seen.

And when they win, who does he go to? Straight to you, taking you in his arms and squeezing tight. "So!?" He says over the yelling of his fellow Hellfire Club members, a big smile on his face. You just shake your head, letting the boy drag you outside along with Mike and Erica, the promise of his mom paying for pizza being what lures the other two, but it's Dustin that seems to capture your focus. He always seems to do that for you, doesn't he? Even in summer camp.

You've been to Dustin's house countless times, but none where him and Mike are arguing over a pizza and character sheets. The phone has rung about 4 times, his mom calling because Mike has to pack for California to see Will and El for spring break, but the boy just refused to pack on time. When he finally does leave, it's just you and Dustin.

Just you and Dustin.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't scared. Not of him, but of yourself. You get this terrible horrible feeling in your chest that you might say something stupid and mess this all up, but it seems like Dustin is one step ahead of you.

"Hey. Hypothetically, what would you say if I.. asked you to the movies this weekend. As a date." He asks you with a slight tilt of his head and a nervous smile. You can't believe your own ears. It's not like you're some science nerd or d&d fanatic like he is, so why you? You don't bother to ask, just grateful this is happening in the first place.

"Hypothetically.. I'd say yes." You reply, your shaky hand finding his own. You hate all this awkward eye contact but you can't seem to look away, not when his eyes seem bluer than normal– god, when did they get so blue?

"Cool.. cool. So.." He starts, trailing off as you nod.

"Yeah. Uh– sure." You say a little too quickly. You're both just laughing a little now, this is just too awkward to take seriously.

But now you've got a date this weekend. And you feel pretty damn good about it.

[aotaku12]

My friend and I made our Math Projects Limbus themed and he put several inside jokes our teachers would definitely not understand but I love this screenshot too much to not share it

[crimson-catalyst]

halloweenie - sorry, trick or trick event for 2022 >:0 the old mansion from the previous years' festivities has become shrouded in a misty forest said to show you your worst nightmares...

the greek myth of medusa and the gorgons may not exist in nephfei's canon if you think about it too hard, but for Levi there's nothing quite as horrifying as petrifying his fans and peers with the face he built his career on <3

[captainfreelance1]

Dinosaurs S1 E5 The Howling

Gunge from Fraggle Rock guest stars as Roy's lunch, leading to one of my favorite quotes the whole series.

[veeblebeep]

while I was thinkign about prbl furries I've decided I should maybe share my awesome DDE furry list x3 It is my proudest work with MUCH MUCH help of @th3-ch41ns4w-k1tty xP

Iris as albino Cheetah

Chris as Deer (any kind)

Chester as Zebra

Frankie being a mix of African Wild Dog and Vulture

Faith as bunny/Rabbit

Arthur as Highlander Cow

Sasha as Harpy Eagle

Milo as Giraffe/Bernhardiner

Vanity as Tiger (South China Tiger, Golden Tiger)

Nina as Lynx/Jaguar

Edric as Snow Leopard/Fox

Naga as Bearded Dragon/Black Footed Cat

Trainwreck as Skunk/Rat

Daiki as Kangaroo

Cordelia as Lemon Shark

Kuma as Black Bear/Sun Bear

ARG!!

Overseer as Hare

Eris and Dolos as Tigers (South China Tigers)

Harp as Panda

Dio as Hyena/African Wild Dog

Medusa as Macaw

Persephone as Red Panda

Serious Shoutout to Ray for having awesome suggestions like Albino Cheetah for Iris, Rabbit / Hare for Faith / Overseer x3 Edric, Nina and Naga are also all results of Ray's awesome thinking so. hehe.

[trekkie-polls]

There have been a huge number of famous guest stars on Star Trek over the years, so we're going to take this season by season and then have a face-off between the most voted in each series. Basically a bracket, minus the planning :). Each poll will have the same criteria: 1) they must be famous before being on Star Trek, 2) they cannot be a titled main character, and 3) when I can't fit everyone in I'm using my best judgment.

Below the fold I'm including photos of their Star Trek roles and a couple of things that made them famous before appearing on Star Trek... which limited my options to 10 names per poll (you can only have 10 photos per post).

Here's one article about some TOS TV guest stars if you want to read more about these & other cameos!

Frank Gorshin as Bele (s3ep15 Let That Be Your Last Battlefield) Previously the Riddler on the 60's Batman & a standup comic who opened on the Sullivan show for the first US Beatles appearance.

2. Ted Cassidy as Ruk (s1ep9 What are Little Girls Made Of?). Previously the voice of the Martian (Angry Red Planet), and Lurch (The Addams Family)

3. Julie Newmar as Eleen (s2ep3 Friday's Child). Previously Catwoman on Batman, and the android titular Rhoda on My Living Doll (the character who inspired Seven of Nine's name)

4. Ricardo Montálban as Khan Noonien Singh (s1ep24 Space Seed & Star Trek II). Ricardo has a long career, starting with musicals and short films in the US in 1940-41. He moved home to care for his dying mother, and became a famous Mexican Movie star in the 40's, starring in over a dozen movies. In the late 40's he returned to the US, and US Hollywood. In 1949 he was the first Hispanic Person to appear on the cover of Life Magazine. He continued to star in many movies, TV shows, and Broadway productions leading up to his first TOS appearance.

5. Michael Dunn as Alexander (s3ep12 Plato's Stepchildren). Previously Dr. Miguelito Loveless on The Wild West and Mr Big on Get Smart. Also Considered by Gene Roddenberry for the role of "Spock" in the Star Trek pilot The Cage!

6. Lee Meriwether as Losira (s3ep16 That Which Survives). Previously 1955 Ms America, Catwoman on Batman, and Tracey, Anna Rojak on Mission Impossible.

7. John Larroquette as Maltz (Star Trek III). Previously Dan Fielding on Night Count, Dr Paul Herman on Doctor's Hospital, and Second Lieutenant Robert "Bob" Anderson on Baa Baa Black Sheep.

8. Christopher Lloyd as Kruge (Star Trek III). Previously Reverend Jim Ignatowski on Taxi (a character who cannonically loved Star Trek), Phillip Semenko on Cheers, and Taber in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.

9. Madge Sinclair as Captain (Star Trek IV). Previously Nurse Ernestine on Trapper John MD, and Bell Reynolds in Roots. She was the first on-screen female captain in Star Trek. She later went on to play Geordi's mom in TNG - the 4th role in which she played Levar Burton's Mother.

10. Iman as Martia (Star Trek VI). Previously a supermodel, Cynthia in L.A. Story (alongside Sir Pat Stew), Nina Beka in No Way Out, Mariammo in Out of Africa, and Lois Blyth & Dakotah in Miami Vice.

[sinnerofwalpurgisnacht]

I'm curious. In your opinion, who do you think would survive the longest in a horror movie? Let's say John Carpenter's 1982 The Thing

Faust has better than an opinion, it would be Hong Lu.

Are you sure, Faust? I can't imagine that happening but that's still really sweet of you to say~ - Hong Luuuu :) 🔮

Yep, uhh... Fau? Are you sure? - Blog Rep Rodya ❤️

Woah, hold your horses. Never heard of the movie myself but there's for sure a chance? It ain't out of the question yet. - Greg

I am entirely sure. You may speculate as you like.

I'd like to verify your idea. There is something there, he's shown to be observant and capable so it's entirely within believability. However, as a counterpoint I would be able to calmly lead the others to dispatch of the monster with everyone surviving under my leadership and that of the Executive Manager's. - Outis 👢

Faust says that this movie is about an alien parasite that infects hosts and twists them into monsters that mimic humanity for the purpose of hunting them. To put it simply, it is similar to the abnormalities we faced in Calw.

Ohhh, the erm... Tin Guys? Something There or something or another. - Greg

Everything There of Insquisitors.

Ahh... soft meat and bone always ready for more artistry to spill. Good times. - M.R.

Not really. - Sinclair 🌿

That's nothing, it's always obvious that they're not human, they have mangled bodies and stab you with them like they're making a point of how obviously inhuman they are. Do you seriously see this as a threat beyond what we deal with daily? - Outis 👢

These mimic people more accurately. They are also only susceptible to fire.

So? Shoot them and go home. This is ridiculous. - Outis 👢

I think she means the other kind of fire... Wouldn't you need a lot? So you can't even deal with it the usual way... Do identities count? - Sinclair 🌿

There are no identities in this scenario as it would become trivial. They also did not specify Sinners but I inferred that Vergilius and Charon are excluded for obvious reasons.

I'd win. - M.R.

You died, quite quickly.

G.F.Y.S. - M.R.

Go... uh... I don't need to interpret that do I? - Sinclair 🌿

It's quite alright. But to reiterate, Hong Lu would be the survivor if Dante and E.G.O. are not in this situation.

Well, that's all there is to it, apparently... What about Meur bud? - Greg?

Meursault was second after Faust. Outis was third and Ryōshū the fourth.

Haha, the biggest targets fall the fastest, you really did do your homework for this one. However my placing is unthinkable and should be brought higher. - Outis 👢

Outie, you say it like it's a competition... - Rodya ❤️

How odd... With all respects due and paid, how of all matches were you burned so soon? - 이상 🪶

Faust was curious.

A woeful fate... - 이상 🪶

[ryokoxdd]

(bonus) They stayed like that for awhile

Boredom

[foone]

If I had a nickel for every time a 90s sci-fi show had to write out a character who had visions and other mental power things, because their actor developed severe mental health issues, only for the producers to lie about why they'd been written out for decades afterwards? And they came back once or twice for a cameo?

I'd have 10 cents, but it's still weird that it happened twice.

(Kes played by Jennifer Lien on Star Trek: Voyager and Jeffery Sinclair played by Michael O'Hare on Babylon 5)

[timetravelbypen]

Murder at the Crossing

Chapters: 1/38 Fandom: Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan Characters: Thirteenth Doctor (Doctor Who), Yasmin Khan, Dan Lewis (Doctor Who), Ryan Sinclair, Graham O'Brien, The Master (Dhawan), lots and lots of companion cameos Additional Tags: rated M for murder (mostly), mystery au, cozy mystery, 1920s AU, Human AU, constable!yaz, botanist!13, murder happens on the page but is not described in too much graphic detail, Slow Burn, Really really slow burn, Colleagues to Lovers, various WWI-related traumas Summary:

The town of Little Ashmere, about an hour's walk outside of Sheffield, is a quiet place. It's orderly, and friendly, and they've had nothing terribly exciting happen there since Armistice Day.

Until a stranger is found murdered on the outskirts of town, and Constable Yasmin Khan might be the only one capable of solving the crime. Especially if she is able to convince the secretive Doctor Emily Smith to open up about her past enough to help her.

New fic time!! Thasmin meets the vibes of Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries, and I hope you all enjoy!! Thanks SO MUCH of course to @rosenkranz-does-things for the incredible cover art that fits this story so perfectly.

[rapturously]

Ok hear me out bc this has been in my mind for a minute. Lester secretly toying and touching reader in the truck while someone is standing outside the truck, be it Bo, some potential victim I just feel like he is the type

heatstroke.

( lester sinclair x fem!reader. )

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: lester sinclair x fem!reader.

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓: one-shot — requested.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4.3K.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: SMUT! (mdni), public sex, risky location, vaginal fingering, fingering (f!feceiving), fingerfucking, spit as lube, dirty talk, praise, finger sucking, very mild coercion, lester is a bit of a pervert, bo sinclair cameo, obsessive/slightly creepy behavior from lester

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: listen ,,, you were onto something incredible when you requested this, this was so hot to write you don’t understand !!! lester is criminally underrated aaaaand this was so much hornier than I thought it’d be !! hope y’all enjoy! ❤️

TAGLIST: @freyjasfenrir ; @darklylucid ; @chaotichellscape ; @kiki-dohedo ; @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better ; @iamcautiouslyoptimistic ; @milland ; @the-anxious-youth ; @nastymensimp

Summertime in Louisiana was akin to setting fire in a desert — humidity on top of an acrid, stifling heat. You didn’t have a clue as to why your friends dragged you all the way out here under the false pretense of a camping trip. In all actuality, they wanted to visit this town that wasn’t listed on any map — Ambrose.

The journey itself was treacherous, going through thick, endless woodlands, marshlands, and bogs before coming towards the town. It was just around the bend, a large chunk of the road missing, now consumed by swampwater, jagged rocks, and erosion. Your friend was confident that he could maneuver his truck through it — boy, was he wrong.

“It won’t make it,” Josie chimed, standing beside you as the both of you watched a pair of young men attempt to push the truck through the wash. The truck unceremoniously came to a grinding, screeching halt, tires partially buried within the mud. “Idiots.”

You kept quiet, idly smoothing your palms across the little, floral sundress you wore. You certainly weren’t dressed for camping — you had no interest. Going to Ambrose was supposed to be a ‘day out on the town’, with your desire being to look at small shops and simply enjoy the atmosphere.

“Maybe we should call somebody,” You piped up, nervously wringing your hands together. “There has to be a tow truck around, you think?” Anxiousness blossomed within the pit of your stomach, giving you a feeling of uncertainty. You wished that they would’ve just listened and tried to drive around it.

“Cut the shit, we don’t need a tow truck.” Josie’s boyfriend, Tate, growled in protest. Admittedly, you had no idea why you were out here in the staggering heat with these three. Tate and Josie had been your friends since high school, but Cody, the third boy, was simply here out of devotion to Josie. You were confident that there was something else going on.

Josie shot you an apologetic glance, but you had enough of watching them push at a truck that wasn’t moving anywhere whatsoever. With a begrudging sigh, you started down the dirt path in the direction of Ambrose, carefully stepping across rocks to avoid caking your boots in a layer of viscous mud.

“Where are you going?” Josie called out, and you simply waved your hand at her, dismissive of her concerns. You were sick and tired of being around the trio, anyway. A walk and a bit of fresh air would do you a world of good.

“Going to town to find somebody.” You replied, and continued walking, crossbody purse slung over your frame as you made the short trek into town. It seemed exceptionally lively — plenty of stores, the chattering ambiance of a quaint neighborhood, and vintage, neon signs that pointed you toward your destination.

You were delighted to discover the gas station and mechanic shop, which already seemed to be inhabited by someone. An old, beat-up pickup truck sat by the gas pumps, back of the bed shoddily cleaned-out, save for a few remnants of roadkill and animal bones. There was an ‘L. S.’ carved into the worn metal above the back wheel, which you curiously traced your fingers over.

The hot sun blistered down upon you, making it stifling due to the now-faded asphalt you stood upon. You quickly ducked underneath the shaded cover of the gas station, almost colliding into someone when you rounded the front of the truck.

“Oh!” You gasped, chest tight with a momentary lapse of fear. “I’m so sorry!” The energy you carried was akin to that of a nervous nelly, clearly unnerved by her surroundings. You felt horrible for running into some innocent bystander — the owner of the truck, you figured.

You were met with the skeptical, hazel-eyed gaze of a man who reminded you of a possum. Rugged, scraggly, and clearly meant for the woodlands. He straightened his hat out, head cocking to one side when he peered down at you — prettiest thing he’d seen in ages. “Nothin’ to be sorry for, sugar! Guess I wasn’t watchin’ where I was goin’, neither.”

His voice bore that native Southern dialect, but he didn’t sound hostile whatsoever. When you finally got a good look at him, he seemed scrappy — maybe he lived in Ambrose. A large buck knife was holstered to his hip, neck adorned in a series of chokers and necklaces, decorated in some sort of animal bone.

“Say, what’cha doin’ ‘round here, anyway?” He inquired, leaning against the door of his truck. “Y’look a little lost.” His tone remained friendly, high-spirited, even. He was somewhat grimy, covered in a layer of dewy perspiration, wiping his hands off on a damp cloth.

“My friends and I were coming up here to visit the town, but our truck got stuck in that patch of marsh just around the bend,” You sighed, somewhat agitated with the whole scenario. If they would’ve listened to you, the truck would be just fine and not tire-deep in the mud. “I was just looking for some help.”

There was a sparkling in his eyes, a peculiar glittering that intrigued you to no end. A chuckle escaped him, finding humor in the situation. “They should’a jus’ drove ‘round.” He mused, and you had to laugh, even if it was a bitter sound. You kept your hands tucked together, idly fiddling with the strap of your purse.

Your expression was somewhat amused, lips twitching into a sardonic smile. “That’s what I said,” You sighed, happy to be away from the oppressive glare of the midday sun. “Either way, we’re stuck. Do you know if there’s a tow truck around here, or someone who could help?” You asked.

He grinned — a toothy, wolfish grin. Lester wasn’t blessed with Bo’s natural handsomeness, but he certainly had the personality to offset it all. He liked that you smiled and laughed along with him, didn’t treat him like backwoods trash, either. “M’brother’s got a tow truck! Bet he’d help ya out! Why don’t I give ‘im a call?”

Finally — your savior.

Relief rippled through you as you nodded several times over, rifling through your purse to unveil a crumpled twenty-dollar bill. “Here,” You insisted. “For the call and for your help. I can’t thank you enough.” You nodded, but the man simply pushed your hand away.

Being around you was a reward in itself — and once his brothers took care of your friends, you would be his prize in all of this. He couldn’t have been any happier with how all of this was progressing. Lester opened up the driver’s side door, grabbing a rather shoddy-looking flip-phone. He was still trying to figure these things out.

One call to Bo later, and his older brother was coming out with the tow-truck and all of that oozing charm, like a shepherd leading the flock to the slaughter. Lester insisted that he keep you out of it — you were sweet, he could tell.

He liked that.

“He’s on his way,” Lester chimed, swiveling around to face you again. He stuck out his hand in greeting. “M’Lester, by th’way! It’s real nice to meet you, sugar. Say, if you’re bakin’ in the sun, could sit in m’truck with me while the rest do the heavy liftin’.” The offer was absolutely tempting to you.

You reached out, introducing yourself with a charming grin and another burst of bubbly laughter. “It’s nice to meet you, Lester. Thank you so much for all of your help, again. You’re an angel.” He was very kind and upbeat — Jesus, you even found him to be cute. “Are you sure? I really don’t want to be a bother.”

Lester grinned again, completely and utterly enamored with you as he waved a hand towards the truck. “I’m real sure, promise! Don’t want that pretty little face of yours t’melt right off. You can sit with me while Bo works his magic.” He insisted, opening up the door as a sign of invitation.

A pleasant wave of heat flooded throughout your body — and while you thought it was from the weather, it was from Lester’s subtle flirtation. You couldn’t help but giggle, nose wrinkling in amusement as you climbed up into his truck. Lester stood behind you, shamelessly admiring the way your dress fit you, from lovely curves to the faintest glimpse of your thighs.

As you crawled into the cabin, you noticed the morbid array of bone and rope dangling from the top mirror. The inside smelled of stale blood, damp dirt, and the faint scent of cigarettes. You folded one leg over the other, swiping away a thin layer of sweat that built up along the back of your neck.

A tow truck came soaring down the road, rickety and beat-up. The driver wore a mechanic’s uniform and a ball cap — you assumed it was Bo, the man Lester was referring to. “M’gonna drive us back down to the bend. No reason for you t’walk.” He mused, hopping in beside you as he started the engine.

The truck roared to life, and Lester maneuvered the vehicle out of the gas station, whipping it back around to approach the swampy wash where your caravan had gotten stuck at.

“Have you lived here your whole life?” You asked, head canting to one side. You leaned up against the door, palm tucked underneath your chin. Whenever you weren’t looking, you were completely oblivious to Lester’s constant ogling of your body.

He kept one hand perched atop the patchwork, leather-covered steering wheel, the other resting along the edge of the window. “Mostly,” Lester piped up, letting out a low whistle. “Ambrose ain’t on the map. Hard for anybody to come out this way without lookin’ real close.” He replied, truck slugging along at a crawl.

“It’s pretty out here,” You hummed, tracing a finger along the dashboard, collecting a layer of dust in the process. “I wouldn’t want to leave. You’ve got everything you need here in town. It’s peaceful.” When you adjusted your position, your dress hitched just a little higher.

“Yer welcome t’stay, if y’like it so much.” Lester mused, which got you to laugh. As tempting as it sounded, nestled away within the Louisiana wilderness, you knew that your friends would go against it. “They even got a beauty pageant, Miss Ambrose.”

Intrigued, you cocked your head to one side, letting out another giggle as you peered outside towards the forests. “A beauty pageant? I’ve never done one of those before. I’m sure I’d have plenty of competition.” You sighed, idly fiddling with the hem of your sundress. The jean jacket you were wearing over it only made you nearly collapse from heatstroke.

Lester grinned, a playful chuckle escaping him. “Naw, I think you’d win th’whole thing.” He was really laying on the compliments and old-fashioned charm, driving the truck down the path and around the bend. “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve seen ‘round here!” Singing your praises was one way to get you flustered.

This was the last thing you ever expected, being hit on by a rugged stranger you’d just met. Nevertheless, the attention you were receiving was amazing, something you weren’t used to. “You’re really sweet.” You accepted the compliment without retort, idly preening your fingers over the top of your head.

By the time you’d gotten back to the wash, Lester’s brother was sitting in the cab of the tow-truck, attempting to haul the other vehicle out of the mud. You waved at your friend from the window as he put it into park, letting it idle. Josie and Tate happened to use it as something to lean on, but Lester didn’t say anything to protest.

“Ain’t you jus’ gorgeous?” Lester crooned, pinching the hem of your dress between his thumb and forefinger. Your skin felt abnormally hot, like a fever as you shifted in your seat, visibly sheepish to the man’s seemingly harmless flirting. “Real nice dress, too.”

“Thanks,” You mumbled, ducking your head as his knuckles innocently brushed over the top of your thigh. Goosebumps erupted in his wake, causing you to shiver as you averted your gaze. “Maybe I should get out and see if everything’s okay.” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

Lester cocked his head to one side, eyes glittering with something indiscernible. The rough, calloused pads of his fingertips traced over your thigh. “Y’sure, sugar? I was thinkin’ you could stay here with me,” He mused, lips spitting into a toothy smirk. “Could make it worth yer while.” His voice was sickly-sweet, like honey.

Something hung heavy in the air — suffocating heat coupled with the flurry of tension crackling within the cab of Lester’s truck. Admittedly, you were more aroused than you should’ve been, given how forward and crass this was, but there was certainly a thrill in it.

You swallowed the growing lump within your throat, stealing another glance outside the window. Your friends were just outside of the truck — if you made too much noise or squirmed, they would notice. “What if somebody sees?” You whimpered, feeling a rush of oozing warmth coalesce between your thighs.

“Looks you’ll have t’be real quiet,” Lester hummed, hand prodding at your dress again. “Why don’t you go on an’ lift that up for me, gorgeous?” You shouldn’t have been this riled up and turned on for a complete stranger, but he was tempting — maybe it was his kind demeanor coupled with lust. You weren’t sure.

A fluttering sensation erupted throughout the pit of your stomach, prompting you to shift your thighs together as you began to shyly tug your dress up. Lester had subtly shifted closer, shorter than an arm’s length distance as you let some of the fabric pool around your hips.

There was some sick thrill you got with this, buried deep down — in hindsight, you shouldn’t have been entertaining this, but Lester seemed more than willing. You glanced toward the window, breath hitching when Josie glanced back at you with a puzzled expression.

To quell her concern, you swiftly gave her a thumbs-up, perspiration creeping along your spine as you subtly shifted a little closer to your new friend. His soft snickering filled the cab, calloused palm gingerly kneading into your thigh.

“Nice n’soft,” Lester mumbled, Southern drawl dropping to a hushed octave. “Y’feel like velvet.” His compliment made you shiver with anticipation, legs parting as you shyly began to ruck the skirt of your dress up. He leaned in, giving your hair a sniff — you smelled sweet, like a fresh bouquet of honeyed flowers.

You swallowed the lump within your throat, angling yourself a little more in his direction, enough to remain inconspicuous. Lester traced his hand along your thigh, drinking in the feeling of your velveteen complexion underneath his fingertips.

Without missing a beat, you sluggishly placed your hand atop his, guiding it toward the heat coalescing between your legs. Lester appeared surprised, cracking another bemused grin as you let his fingers settle along the waistband of your panties. You were desperate, wriggling atop the sticky leather beneath you.

Your fingers curled into the seat, chest tight with a familiar fluttering once his fingers finally crossed the threshold, slipping beneath the thin, cotton material. He nudged your legs further apart, deliberately stroking at your cunt, toying with you just a little bit. “D’aw,” He crooned. “That all fer me?”

Part of you wanted to simply melt into a pile of nothingness, lips parted as a sweet moan escaped you. His touches were tantalizing, feather-light and leaving you aching for more. “Y—Yeah,” You sighed, keeping your voice low as Lester pushed past your folds, two digits beginning to glide against your cunt. “Keep going.” You mewled.

Lester rarely, if ever, did anything like this.

Admittedly, once he saw you, that beautiful beam of sunshine, he had to have you — he wanted to keep you for himself, too. Your willingness to let him touch you made you all the more tempting, something to be coveted, worshiped. Lester would do it all for you if you’d let him.

Quietly, he obeyed your breathy command, ministrations becoming more vigorous. His fingers were erratic and choppy, sloppily sliding across your cunt with a fervor. You didn’t care, lulled into submission by the myriad of sensations, pleasure rippling throughout your stomach.

Your gaze occasionally flickered toward the outside of the truck, but your worry of getting caught was steadily subsiding. Lester’s calloused digits glided along your slit, moving up until they found that clutch of sensitive nerves buried between your thighs. His thumb sluggishly circled your clit, causing your hips to jolt forward.

“S’at feel nice?” His drawl had dropped into a husked purr, voice wrought with desperation. Lester liked having this level of control over you, but he enjoyed seeing your reactions even more. Embarrassment washed through you, knowing how insane this scenario seemed.

A sweet whimper tore past your lips, and you nodded your head, attempting to keep the gesture subtle. You wanted more, shifting your thighs together to relieve some tension until Lester prodded you with his knee. He began to rub at your clit, prompting you to press the back of your hand over your mouth.

Lester snickered, swatting your hand away. “Don’t keep those sounds from me, sugar. You’re jus’ so pretty like this.” He murmured, causing you to bite at your lower lip. Your thighs shook, cunt throbbing and oozing with liquid heat as he continued to touch you.

There was a thump against the front of the truck, nearly making you leap out of your own flesh, hastily covering your lap with your jean jacket. It was just Cody, huffing and puffing as Lester’s brother continued to try and pull the truck out of the mud.

“W—We should probably stop,” You whimpered, voice low and hushed, attempting to grab at his wrist, but Lester stopped you. “Lester, please.” The terror of being caught outweighed pleasure, but he shushed you, tugging you just a little closer, until you were nearly leg-to-leg in the cab.

“Jus’ keep quiet, sweetheart. They ain’t gonna catch us, swear.” He reassured you, coercing you into a more docile state — admittedly, he really wanted to make you cum on his fingers. Lester was hellbent to receive that from you, whether you protested or not.

As much as your mind screamed at you to stop, you wanted to keep going. You nodded, still keeping the jacket tucked within your lap, but Lester nudged it aside, wanting to watch everything. Your dress was all disheveled and ruffled around your hips, panties halfway down your thighs.

You began to squirm, hips jolting and spasming into the sensation of his hand, nails digging into the old, cracked leather of the truck’s frayed cushions. Your mind stopped worrying so much, submitting to basic desire and instinct, letting pleasure hold the reins as he flicked his thumb around your clit.

Honey-sweet arousal pooled between your legs, coating Lester’s digits in a fine sheen. You almost pleaded for him to come back when he withdrew his hand, watching with complete and utter shock as he licked his fingers, saturated in saliva. The noises he made were crass and somewhat lewd. “Taste jus’as good as y’look.” He murmured.

A molten wave of heat dropped right into the pit of your stomach, prompting you to whimper as his fingers hotly returned to your core. He was vigorous this time, using those spittle-slathered digits to invade your cunt, pushing two fingers inside of you as he began to piston them in and out. His rhythm was intense, and you nearly clamped your thighs together.

Your limbs felt heavy, weighed-down by the waves of ecstasy that consume you, as if dragging you down to the bottom of an ocean. You can barely distinguish what’s happening outside of the truck — you don’t care anymore, either.

This stranger fingerfucking you in his cab is all you can concentrate on.

Another soft, throaty moan escaped you, tearing past your parted lips as you rolled your hips sporadically, in-tandem with the motion of his fingers. They pushed inward, nearly knuckle-deep inside of your cunt before dragging out halfway, only to ram right back in. You sighed, pleasure scrawled all over your face.

Lester kept a watchful eye out, knowing that Bo would take his sweet time, damage your friend’s truck in the process. He was happy to have snatched you up when he did, gaze flickering toward you. Your body was contorted with delight, a glistening sheen of perspiration shimmering along your collarbone.

Tension crackled through the air, and you were none the wiser to Lester’s little plot to keep you. His thumb toyed and circled your clit, pouring fuel on the fire as your hips bucked forward again. “M’close,” You whimpered through the dizzying carnality, knuckles tense and tight as you clawed at the seat. “Oh, Lester! S—Shit, please don’t stop!” You squeaked.

He was enthralled, as if trained to obey your every wish. He didn’t slow down, keeping the same pace, fingers scissoring in and out of your weeping cunt. The thick scent of arousal hung heavy in the cab, intermingled with that of fresh earth and a coppery twang from the blood of roadkill, baking away in the back of the truck.

The thin straps of your pretty dress began to sag upon your shoulders, giving way to the faintest glimpse of your breast. If it weren’t for the oblivious audience outside of the truck, Lester would’ve been sucking on your chest. Instead, he settled for a brief peek of your heaving tits, and nothing more.

When the truck rattled, you barely paid it any mind — just your friends sagging against it. Lester snickered, opting to add a third finger, if it were a possibility. “Can y’handle another, sugar? Yer almost there.” He whispered, and when your friend began to step back towards the passenger door for shade, your eyes went as wide as saucers.

Again, Lester silenced your worry with the softest coos and gentle shushes, thumb working away at your clit as he attempted to wriggle a third digit inside of you. You were all wound up, chasing after your orgasm as you turned your face away, skin feverishly hot, as if you’d been scorched by the Louisiana sunshine.

As soon as Lester’s fingers rocked into your cunt for the umpteenth time, curling just slightly, you were gone — wasting away in a white-hot explosion. The tension within your stomach unfurled as you coated his digits in your slick nectar, huffing and puffing as you attempted to compose yourself.

“Lester, Lester,” The breathy, hushed way in which you whimpered his name made him want to devour you. Your cunt clenched pathetically around his fingers as he withdrew them, watching the tension unfurl from your body. You looked embarrassed and downright flustered, having made a mess of his seat. “M’sorry.”

“Sorry?” Lester cajoled, grinning a toothy, bemused smile as he began to lick his fingers clean. “Don’t gotta apologize none for that. Jus’ do it again sometime.” He teased, watching as you hastily covered your lap with your jean jacket when your friend thumped a hand against the window.

“Hey, we’re going up to this guy’s house. He said he has a tire that we can borrow, one on the truck is flat. Are you coming?” Josie asked, ogling Lester with skepticism and a high degree of disgust, too.

You gasped, heart pounding erratically in your chest. As you opened your mouth to answer, Lester interjected on your behalf.

“Yer friend here is goin’ through a bad wave of heatstroke. I’m gonna drive ‘er back t’my place an’ get her some water. It’s a cabin ‘long the path, you can’t miss it.” Lester confirmed, but Josie looked at you for an answer instead.

You nodded several times over, mustering up a smile after having experienced one of the best highs of your life. Pretending that you hadn’t let him touch you just moments ago made you feel strange. “I’ll be alright, Josie. You guys can meet me at his place once the truck is all fixed up.”

Josie nodded and reluctantly moved away from the window, joining Tate and Cody as the three of them followed Bo towards the tow truck. You were impervious and oblivious to the fact that this would be the last time you would ever see your friends alive.

Fortunately for Lester, he had other intentions.

He started the truck again, peering toward you with a twinkle in his eye — it wasn’t the same high-spirited, innocuous man you’d encountered at the gas station. This gleam was different — obsessive, possessive, and absolutely enamored with you.

“Why don’t we see what we can do about this heatstroke of yours, sugar?”

[snowblossomreads]

😱 😭🤮 THE PINING IDIOTS ARE BACK TOGETHER AND I CANT HANDLE IT WAHHHHHHHHHH FINALLY 😭 Speical thanks to Lionel and Goldie bc they were working their asses off

The emotions, the call back to other alans and alan films 👏👏👏 amazing talented wonderful and the kissssss they kisssss again bwaahhhhhhhhh

For the Love of Books | Sinclair x OC

XII. Forgiveness and Love

Summary: The truth finally comes out - but Sinclair's got some work to do before he and Betty can move forward.

Read now on Ao3 or below the cut:

Despite Lionel’s very unsubtle attempts to set her up on dates, Betty was still nowhere near ready to date again – not least because she barely had time. Between managing the shop, looking after Goldie, looking after herself, housework and being dragged by Lionel from art exhibitions to charity galas to opening nights at the theatre, Betty had hardly any time to think about dating, let alone find time to actually do it.

But the other reason was, she just didn’t know how to shake Sinclair from her head. Everything reminded her of him, particularly the ever-growing golden retriever who she was now solely responsible for. Although Sinclair had seemed eager to visit Goldie, the call never came, and Betty suspected Natalie was to blame.

Knowing that Natalie was due to pop any moment, Betty braced herself every time she saw Lionel for the news that the baby had come, but if it had he kept mum.

The news came finally on a Friday night; Betty was just putting the dishwasher on after dinner when she heard the doorbell chime.

Goldie immediately began barking, running to the door to protect her from the stranger, and Betty had to coax him into the living room and shut the door before she could attend to her visitor.

On her doorstep was a sad, wet puppy, soaked from the summer storm raging overhead.

“What are you —? Get inside, you numpty!”

Betty grabbed Sinclair’s arm and pulled him inside, quickly closing the door behind him so he could shiver on her carpet.

“Th - thanks,” Sinclair said through chattering teeth. “That rain came out of nowhere!”

“Look at you, you’re soaked!” Betty admonished him as she poked at his clothes, which looked like they’d just been sat in a full bathtub. “There’s towels in the bathroom, go get yourself dried off. I think I have something you can wear. Then you can tell me what you’re doing here.”

Soon enough, Sinclair was mostly dry, although his hair was still damp, and he was wearing the pyjamas he’d kept in a drawer at her flat… before. Goldie was ecstatic to see his dad again, and despite everything, when Betty entered the living room with a cup of tea for Sinclair, her heart warmed to see her two puppies reunited.

Sinclair thanked Betty for the tea, although with Goldie on his lap he had little space to hold it, but the pup soon calmed down enough to settle on his dad’s lap while Sinclair held the warm mug like it was his life source.

“I really like your house, Betty,” Sinclair said, his eyes darting around as they always did in a new place, as if he needed to absorb every detail of it. “It’s cozy. Very you.”

Betty sat down at the opposite end of the sofa, her legs tucked underneath her. Spoiled for choice, Goldie decided to settle between them, his head on Sinclair’s lap and his bum curled up against Betty’s thigh.

“Thanks. I got it with the money Lionel paid me for the shop.”

“Yes, how is the shop going? If Lionel gives you any trouble…”

“He’s been nothing but good to me. But I don’t think you came here to talk about Lionel, or the shop.”

Sinclair bowed his head sadly.

“Um, no. I came here because… I didn’t know where else to go. I don’t want to go home right now. I thought about going to the office and getting some work done but I don’t think I could focus. I needed somewhere I feel… safe. And so I thought of you. I’ve always felt safe with you, Betty. I think that’s what drew me to you from the day we met. You’re my safe place.”

He gazed into his tea thoughtfully.

“Why do you need a safe place right now, Sinclair?” Betty asked softly.

“Natalie had the baby,” Sinclair said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “The doctors said he has, um, carma cramlica. Which only occurs when…”

He hesitated.

“The parents are siblings,” Betty finished for him.

“…Yeah.”

Sinclair closed his eyes and shook his head.

“God, Betty, I am so sorry. I’ve been such an idiot. To think I - I broke your heart because I was stupid enough to believe her. I’m not… I’m not asking for you to forgive me, or take me back, or to ever see me again. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d left me out in the rain. But I… I needed to see you. I needed to say I’m sorry.”

He looked up at her at last, his puppy dog eyes brimming with tears.

“I am so, so sorry, Betty.”

There was a long pause, the silence broken only by Goldie’s tail wagging excitedly, apparently oblivious to the tension between his parents.

“Losing you killed me, Clair,” Betty said quietly, her hands busying themselves with stroking Goldie’s back. “It killed me over and over again. Every time I woke up alone, every time I ate lunch alone, every time something reminded me of you. My heart broke every day. But still, every day I had to get out of bed, I had to eat, I had to keep living. Alone, like I’ve always done. But this time it hurt.”

“But you’re not alone, you have Goldie! And Lionel, he’s clearly been a good friend to you.”

“That’s not the same, Sinclair. Goldie’s a dog, he’s not you . And Lionel - he is a good friend. But he’s still not you. I wanted you. I fell in love with you. Your dog, your cousin - they’re wonderful, but they’re still remnants of you. You haunt me, Sinclair.”

“I never meant to haunt you.”

“I know.”

“Letting you go was the biggest mistake of my life.”

Betty sighed, closing her eyes as she tried not to cry.

“Sinclair, why are you here? Do you want me back?”

“Yes! I - well… yes, of course I want you back. And if you turn me away, I’ll want you back until the day I die. But that’s not why I came. I came because you’re the only thing that’s right in this world, the only person I can trust. I’m not asking you to get back together with me, Betty. I know I don’t deserve it, and if you hate me, I understand. I just need your company, just for tonight. Please.”

Betty laughed incredulously, her eyes still brimming with tears.

“I don’t hate you, Sinclair! How can I? I love you. That’s why it hurts so much. That’s why I let you in without question, why we’re sitting here now. Because I need you tonight as much as you need me.”

She sighed.

“But… I think you should leave.”

The disappointment on Sinclair’s face couldn’t have been more obvious.

“…Oh.”

“You hurt me, Sinclair. Really hurt me. I can’t just forgive you like that —”

“I’m not asking you to!”

“Then don’t ask me to comfort you because your wife cheated on you again. I just - I need time, okay? And so you do. You can’t keep jumping from relationship to relationship. Do you even know who you are without a girlfriend or a wife?”

Sinclair looked hurt, but he couldn’t argue, because she was right and they both knew it. Before Natalie there was Laura, before Laura there was Amiee, before Amiee there was Alex, before Alex there was Emily… he’d hardly ever spent more than a few weeks single before jumping into another relationship. Truthfully, that was partly why he’d married Natalie - because everyone told him he had to settle down eventually, so he did. He hadn’t considered that he wasn’t settling down with Natalie - he was settling for her. He had no idea that he’d meet the love of his life two years later.

“I… I still want you in my life, Betty,” Sinclair said, his voice almost a whisper. “But I know - I know we can’t go back to being just friends. How can we, when we both know I still love you?”

Goldie contributed to the conversation with a fart.

Betty snorted with laughter, and Sinclair laughed too, the tears in his eyes disguising themselves as tears of laughter.

“I really missed you, Goldie,” Sinclair said, scratching the dog behind his ear. Goldie panted happily.

“Do you want him back?” Betty asked. “Now that Natalie’s gone?”

Sinclair looked up at her, wide-eyed. “No, he’s yours! I mean - I would like to see him, if that’s okay. I know we talked about visitation before but…”

“Natalie wouldn’t let you, I know. Of course you can visit him. Maybe you could come by after work on a Friday and take him out for a walk?”

Sinclair’s eyes lit up again. “Yes, I’d love to! I miss bringing him on my morning runs. Maybe I’ll take him on a run around Hyde Park, then I get to spend time with him and get an extra run in! What do you think, Goldie?”

Goldie wagged his tail. Sinclair grinned, then remembered his situation, and his heart sank.

“I don’t want to go back home tonight,” he sighed. “She’s still in hospital, but I don’t know if she’ll be discharged tonight. Although I’d hope she’ll stay with Richard if she does…”

“Why don’t you stay with Lionel?”

“Hmm, maybe…”

Sinclair was clearly struck with indecision, so Betty decided for him and stood to pick up the phone that sat on the wall. She pressed the speed-dial button for Lionel’s office; when there was no answer, she tried his London home, hoping he hadn’t gone to his country home for the weekend.

“Lionel Shabandar speaking.”

“Hello Lionel Shabandar speaking, it’s Elizabeth Bennett speaking.”

“Ah, Elizabeth Bennett speaking, wonderful to hear your voice. Looking forward to the exhibition tomorrow?”

“The —? Oh, right, yes. Look, Sinclair’s here and he needs a place to stay tonight. Can he stay with you?”

“Sinclair’s with you is he?” Lionel asked, clearly scandalised. “Well, you have a bed, don’t you? A lovely double bed for two people to cozy up in. Unless you’re planning on fucking in my guest room?”

“Lionel, shut up, it’s not like that.”

Betty glanced at Sinclair, who was watching her nervously from his seat on the sofa, still scratching Goldie’s ear.

“I’ll let him explain. Just - let him stay tonight. Please?”

“Oh, alright. I suppose it’s my brotherly duty, isn’t it? But I want full details from him, and don’t think I won’t be grilling you tomorrow too. I have methods for getting information out of people, you know.”

“If by ‘methods’ you mean getting people drunk, then yes, I’ve experienced that firsthand. Thanks, Lionel. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow it is. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Betty hung up the phone, then walked back over to the sofa to scoot Goldie off Sinclair’s lap.

“Come on, you, let dad up so he can go.”

Betty waited for Sinclair to stand up, but he sat there glumly before looking up at her with those big, sad eyes.

“You have Lionel’s number on speed dial.”

“Yes, because he’s my boss and my friend. Come on, Sinclair, I need to go to bed too. Are you okay to drive?”

Sinclair nodded, then pushed himself to his feet. Goldie spun around excitedly, thinking daddy was taking him on a walk, and barked his protestations when Betty shut him in the living room as she saw Sinclair out.

“I’ll see you next Friday, then,” Betty said. “You can pick him up around six, I’ll be back by then.”

“Alright. I —”

Sinclair hesitated, his words caught in his mouth.

“Thank you,” he said at last, and Betty watched him go as he stepped back into the pouring rain to drive away.

When Sinclair arrived at Lionel’s high rise apartment, he had during the relatively short drive over ran every possible scenario through his head, naturally coming to the worst conclusion - that he’d lost Betty forever.

But who could blame her? He’d not want anything to do with him either, not after the misery he’d caused her.

Sinclair entered his cousin’s apartment with a dark cloud looming over his head, and Lionel knew immediately that something was very wrong. They’d known each other their entire lives, and Lionel could probably count on one hand the amount of times Sinclair had let him see him sad.

He took one look at his cousin’s face, announced it was time for the emergency wine, and retrieved from the kitchen the 1973 Chateau Montelena Chardonnay he’d been saving for just the right moment. He brought the bottle and two glasses into the living room and poured a glass for each of them.

Sinclair just sat there glumly.

“Come on, spill,” Lionel demanded. “What happened?”

Sinclair sighed and sank back into the sofa.

“Natalie had the baby. And it’s not mine.”

“Well, I could have told you that,” Lionel said with a shrug.

Sinclair shot his cousin a dark look. “You did tell me that. I just thought you were being a prat.”

“So are you done with her for good this time?”

“Yeah, she - she agreed not to contest the divorce if I don’t tell anyone that Richard’s the father.”

“And how does that lead to Betty calling me asking me to put you up for the night?”

“I - I went straight to hers. I didn’t know where else to go. I didn’t even think about it, I just… needed somewhere I felt safe. And I ended up on her doorstep.” Sinclair sighed. “God, she was so kind to me. I was going to ask if I could stay the night - just on the sofa - but she asked me to leave. Which I completely get – just because I realised how much of an idiot I’ve been, doesn’t mean she doesn’t hate me for it. And I was such an idiot! I thought I was doing the right thing, and now look at me. I’m all alone.”

“What am I, chopped liver?”

Sinclair’s mouth twitched with the ghost of a smile.

“I mean it, Sinclair,” Lionel said firmly. “I know I never say it, because I’m terrible at these things, but I am here for you. We’re genetically brothers, as you love to remind me, so as your brother I have no qualms in telling you to stop convincing yourself that Betty hates you. She’s madly in love with you. You know, I tried to set her up with some very impressive friends of mine, but she wasn’t interested. She was too hung up on you.”

Sinclair sniffed and wiped a tear from his eye.

“Did you really not sleep with her?”

“This again,” Lionel muttered with frustration. “No, I did not sleep with her, Sinclair. I suggested it, she said no, that was the end of it. I understand what you see in her, but we really are only friends. In fact, aside from you, she may well be my best friend. So I’d really like it if you two could stop pining over each other and just fuck already because it’s driving me insane.”

Sinclair shook his head. “No, she - she said she can’t forgive me. She needs time. And I’ll give her all the time she needs. If I have to wait forever for her, I will. And if she never forgives me…”

A tear rolled down his cheek as he contemplated the thought of it.

”…then so be it. Because I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive myself.”

---

The next few months were some of the hardest in Sinclair’s life.

Natalie kept her word and signed the divorce papers without fuss, agreeing to a clean break with no demands for maintenance. When they met up in the solicitor’s office a month after the birth to sign the papers, she brought the baby with her. His name was Peter, she told him, and although his condition left him with some physical abnormalities, he was overall a healthy boy. She brought the birth certificate to prove that she’d listed no one as the father, leaving her the only one with responsibility for him. Between that and the divorce finally settled, Sinclair felt oddly empty to know he no longer had any links to her or the baby.

They said an awkward goodbye afterwards, and she drove away.

Two weeks later, Sinclair received a postcard from Amsterdam. Richard had been offered a job there and they’d had to move quickly.

With Natalie out of the picture, Sinclair felt a sense of relief, and he admitted as such to his therapist. A few days after the birth, he’d called the same therapist he’d seen with Natalie, and she was happy to see him on a one-to-one basis.

He almost didn’t go back after the first session. It was difficult, telling her everything - even about Richard and Natalie - and he left feeling more exposed than ever. But the therapist promised it would get better, that they had to expose the wounds for them to heal, and week by week, it did get better.

He was beginning to understand himself, something he’d never stopped to think to do, and after the third session, the therapist asked if she could speak to Lionel on the phone, then sent him home with a list of questions to consider. He didn’t really understand why she was asking them or why she wanted to talk to Lionel until his next session, when another doctor sat in and asked him some more questions. He’d read Sinclair’s answers, read the notes from the call with Lionel, and after meeting him, the doctor came to a conclusion and sent Sinclair away with some pamphlets.

Sinclair felt guilty going to a bookshop other than Betty’s, but he didn’t want her to see him buying books on ADHD. Not that he was ashamed - the more he read about it, the more it made complete sense. But he wanted to understand it himself before he asked her to understand it.

The best part of Sinclair’s week was always Friday after work, because he got to see her. He also got to see Goldie, who he’d missed almost as much as he missed Betty, and taking him out for a walk was his favourite thing to do.

Three weeks after his diagnosis, Sinclair asked Betty if she’d like to join them on their walk.

He expected her to make an excuse, or to just plain say no - she was direct like that, and he loved that about her.

What he didn’t expect was for her face to light up and her coat to be in her hands before he’d even finished his sentence.

“It’s funny, I was gonna ask you if I could come today,” Betty said as she closed the door behind her, having to speak up to be heard over Goldie’s excited barking when he realised he was getting a walk with mummy and daddy. Betty put her hands in her coat pockets, partly to warm them from the chilly autumn air, and partly to stop herself from instinctively taking Sinclair’s hand.

“You can come with us any time! I’m sure Goldie’ll love it. It’s been ages since we last walked him together, do you think he even remembers it?”

“We walked him together once, when he was still a puppy,” Betty reminded him. “I doubt he remembers it. I do, though, it was… it was nice.”

“Yeah, it was,” Sinclair said, blushing when he remembered it was the morning after their first time.

“I’d like to come with you more, if that’s okay.”

“Yes!” Sinclair nodded eagerly. “Yes, of course it’s okay! Look how happy it makes him!”

Sure enough, Goldie was barking happily even more than usual, and Sinclair had to keep tugging on the lead to stop him jumping into the road.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, both unsure how to make conversation when their relationship was what it was.

“I’m seeing a therapist,” Sinclair blurted out.

“Oh! Oh, that’s - that’s good.”

“She’s been really helpful. It’s really hard sometimes, but… I’ve made a lot of progress. You know, understanding myself and that sort of thing.”

“Right.”

They passed through the gate to the park, and Goldie started bouncing happily, making it difficult for Sinclair to take the leash off his collar.

They watched him bound away into the park, barking excitedly as he greeted his doggy friends, and Betty laughed.

“He really is just like you.”

Sinclair smiled.

“Like father, like son. Hey, do you want to get an ice-cream? There’s this really nice stand over there - I’m sure you know this, you take him here more than I do - but I love their mint chocolate chip.”

“Sinclair, it’s freezing!” Betty laughed.

“It’s never too cold for ice-cream,” Sinclair said seriously.

“Oh, alright, only because their chocolate is amazing,” Betty conceded. “And I think they’re closing for winter soon.”

“Nooo! It’s even more important that we have some now! Come on, I’m paying, no arguments.”

Sinclair bounded over to the ice-cream stand, ordered a mint chocolate chip and a chocolate, and the two of them sat down on a bench in the 7 degree weather to eat their ice-creams.

“How’s things with the shop?” Sinclair asked, mindful of his therapist’s advice to ask other people about their lives, and also genuinely curious how it was going since Lionel had bought it out.

“Really good, actually. Lionel was a godsend - don’t tell him I said that, though. But I’ve got staff now, some really lovely uni students, so I get a lot more time to spend doing the back office stuff. I’m making a decent wage, enough to support myself and Goldie, and Lionel says at the end of the year I’ll get a bonus based on the profits.”

“That’s amazing! You really deserve it, Betty. You’ve put so much into that place. I see it when I go to David’s for lunch, it looks so different than it did a year ago!”

“Crikey, has it been a year already?”

“Almost! It was the end of October when we met. I can’t believe it was only a year ago. I feel like I’ve known you forever.”

Betty smiled.

“Yeah, I think that sometimes. Even though - even though we were only together for a few months… you changed my life.”

Sinclair looked down at Betty, butterflies erupting in his stomach as if they were on their first date all over again. He wanted to kiss her, to tell her he still loved her, to take her home and make love to her, to hold her close and never let her go.

Her hand moved towards his face, and he thought maybe she was about to cup his face and kiss him - but instead, her thumb wiped the end of his nose, and she giggled as she showed him the blob of green ice-cream.

“I think this is yours.”

“Hey, I was saving that for later! I guess you can have it now.”

“Eiw, no, I hate mint ice-cream. You have it.”

She moved her thumb towards his lips, but at the same time he moved his lips towards her thumb, and where he intended to simply lick the end of her thumb, he ended up taking her thumb into his mouth.

Instinctively, he closed his lips around her thumb and sucked, their eyes locked on one another, and Betty felt a tingle she hadn’t felt in a while as Sinclair’s amber eyes glowed with some intensity she’d only ever seen in him.

She withdrew her thumb from his mouth, blushing, and Sinclair realised suddenly what had just happened.

“Oh, god, sorry,” he apologised profusely. “I didn’t, um - I don’t know why I did that.”

“It’s okay,” Betty replied quietly. She looked up at him again, fighting the urge to kiss him. God, why did he have to be so irresistible?

With an excited bark, Goldie bounded up to them, as if he knew he needed to stop his parents before they did something stupid like admit they still loved each other.

“Oh my god, he’s done a shit,” Betty groaned, noticing the familiar stench of dog poop nearby. “Have you got the bags?”

“Yeah, I’ve got them here - hold this —”

The moment well and truly broken, Betty held both ice-creams in her hands as Sinclair dug out the poo bags to retrieve the remnants of Goldie’s dinner. The sun was beginning to set, so with a stranger’s shoe saved from stepping in something unpleasant, Sinclair and Betty finished their ice-creams as they led Goldie back out of the park, both of them silently pondering the moment that had just passed between them.

---

Betty came along on the next walk, and the next, and when she met Lionel at the National Portrait Gallery one evening for the unveiling of their latest exhibition, he immediately started questioning her.

“So I hear you’re dating Sinclair again,” he said by way of greeting as he approached her with drinks in hand.

“I - what - no I’m not!” Betty spluttered in protest. “We walk the dog we’re co-parenting once a week. We’re not dating.”

Lionel sighed. “Sinclair said that too. I was hoping you’d be more honest with me. So going for a walk in the park and eating sweets together isn’t a date?”

“No! Not in this context. I want to spend time with him and Goldie, that’s all. Why, what’s he been saying?”

“Oh, no, I’m not gonna be your go-between,” Lionel said firmly. “If you two want to communicate, you do it together, not through me. Frankly, I’m getting a little sick of the two of you and your pining. You’re clearly mad for each other, what’s stopping you?”

“You know what’s stopping me,” Betty said quietly.

“Well, I think you’re both complete morons. Now, can we focus on the art and not your self-inflicted heartache, please?”

“Hey, you brought him up!”

Lionel waved aside her protest and put a hand on her back to guide her to the first corridor of the exhibition.

“This way, there’s a Monet piece they’re showing down here I really want to buy…”

At some point in the evening, Lionel and Betty lost each other, but that was usual - Lionel got talking to someone, Betty wandered off, and they’d find each other again in the end. So when Betty ended up at the bar on her own, she wasn’t perturbed, and she bought herself a glass of wine while she waited for Lionel to catch up.

“And just what would a beautiful woman like you be doing here on her own?”

Betty looked up from the spot on the ground she’d been absentmindedly staring at when she heard an unfamiliar American drawl. The stranger was a little older than Lionel, and handsome too, with a moustache and a confident smirk on his face that said he was used to approaching strange women and was rarely told to piss off.

“I’m waiting for a friend. We got split up in the gallery. What are you doing here on your own?”

“Also waiting for a friend, though I’m hoping I’ve made an even better one.” He put his hand out to her. “Dr Eli Michaelson.”

“Oh, I’ve heard of you. Betty Bennett.”

She went to shake his hand, but instead he took it softly and kissed the back of her hand. What was it with these uppity white men and kissing women’s hands when they met?

“You’ve heard of me, have you? Are you an enthusiast for chemistry?”

“No, Lionel told me about you,” Betty replied as she took her hand back. “He said you were visiting from the States and you’d meet him tonight.”

“Did he say anything else?” Eli asked with faux modesty.

“About you? No. But I suspect you can speak for yourself.”

“I sure can,” Eli said proudly, his back straightening slightly. “I’m a scientist; some might say a renowned scientist. I specialise in chemistry, of… all types.”

Eli’s eyes flashed dangerously, and Betty suddenly became very aware that he had very little concept of personal space as he leant against the wall next to her.

“Do you know much about chemistry, Betty?”

“I was never much for science at school,” Betty admitted. “I much preferred English and Humanities.”

“Is that so? Well, when I’m not researching, I’m also a chemistry professor. Maybe I could teach you a thing or two?”

Betty gulped and glanced around. A few people were milling about, but none were paying them any attention. Where the hell was Lionel?!

“Thanks, I - I think I’m good.”

Eli looked her up and down, not even trying to hide the fact that he was checking her out.

“Something tells me you’d be a quick learner. C’mon, what d’ya say we ditch Lionel? I can teach you more than you ever imagined in one night, and you’d still have only scratched the surface of my… expertise .”

Betty was frozen to the spot. She had no idea what to do or say to get herself out of this. He was taller than her, almost definitely stronger, and if she made a scene she knew from experience she’d be the one getting kicked out.

“I’m sorry, I have to go and find Lionel,” she mumbled, ducking under Eli’s arm to quickly scurry away back into the gallery, leaving her half-drunk glass of wine on a table.

She didn’t dare look back, worried Eli would follow her, but if he did then she didn’t hear him. She finally located Lionel in a room on his own, looking thoughtfully at a portrait of some king or another.

“Ah, there you are - what’s wrong?” Lionel turned to her, a frown forming on his face when he saw how uncomfortable she was.

“I met your American friend. You didn’t mention he’s a complete cad.”

Lionel sighed in frustration.

“I’m sorry. He’s the worst. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just - I needed an excuse to get away. Um, in fact, I might just go.”

“Are you sure? I can tell him to piss off instead. I’d much rather have you around.”

“No, it’s fine, honestly. Can I use your driver? I’ve had some wine.”

“Of course, let me just call him.”

Ten minutes later, Betty was in the back of Lionel’s Range Rover, wondering why the hell one of Lionel’s friends flirting with her was making her so uncomfortable. She’d gotten used to it, or so she thought - whenever she met another of his important friends, if Lionel didn’t try to set them up himself, they’d usually try and flirt with her anyway. At least, she supposed, they weren’t baulking when they saw her.

But this time it was different. It was as if, were she to accept Eli’s advances, she’d be breaking some sort of rule. Like it was cheating.

Which was preposterous - she was a free agent. She had no one to cheat on. She’d made it very clear to Sinclair that they were taking some time apart. Only that very evening she’d told Lionel that her weekly walks with Sinclair were not dates.

So why did she eagerly wait all week for them?

Betty was so lost in thought that she didn’t glance out the window the entire journey. When the car came to a stop, she absent-mindedly thanked Lionel’s driver, then climbed out of the car.

It wasn’t until she closed the door behind her that she peered through the darkness of the evening to see that she wasn’t at her house at all.

It was Sinclair’s.

“Oh, fuck you, Lionel!” Betty hissed.

And yet, she didn’t get back in the car. Instead, her feet carried her forward. She was cold, and like a moth to the flame she was drawn towards the warmth of the house, enticed by the thoughts of central heating, the fireplace, and Sinclair’s arms.

She rang the bell, but there was no answer. She could see a light on in Sinclair’s reading room. Maybe he knew it was her at the door and was ignoring her. Or maybe he was so wrapped up in a book he hadn’t even heard the bell. Or, quite likely knowing him, he was tucked up in bed and had forgotten to turn the lights out.

The driver had already driven away, so Betty had little choice but to go inside. She took the spare key from its hiding spot and let herself in, treading quietly so as not to wake Sinclair if he was asleep.

She slipped off her shoes and tip-toed to the reading room to find that, sure enough, Sinclair was splayed out on the sofa, mouth hanging open, and an open book laying face-down on his chest.

Betty smiled at the endearing sight. She saw the remnants of the takeout he’d ordered were still on the coffee table, so she gathered up the pizza boxes and consolidated the leftovers into one box to put in the fridge, then threw the rest in the bin. She wiped down the table, then picked up the book from his chest to mark his page and put it aside.

She paused, curious, looking at the cover of the book.

Adult ADHD and Navigating Relationships

She had no idea what ADHD was; was it some kind of condition that Sinclair had? She looked at the blurb on the back, which read:

For adults with Attention-Deficit Hyperactive Disorder, navigating relationships - whether romantic, family or friends - can be difficult. Our book is designed to help you and those you love to better understand your functioning and build healthy relationships.

“Attention-deficit” and “hyperactive” were certainly words Betty would use to describe Sinclair, but she wasn’t so sure about “disorder.” Still, if it was something his therapist had advised him to read, she certainly wasn’t qualified to question it.

She slipped the bookmark Sinclair had dropped on the floor into the page and closed the book. Although she was tempted to see what it said, she felt that might be a little too invasive.

“Betty?” Sinclair mumbled from the sofa, his eyes squinting against the light of the lamp he’d left on. “What are you doing here?”

“Hello, sleepyhead,” she said with a smile, placing the book down on the table and sitting on the sofa as Sinclair sat up. “I see you’re still falling asleep mid-book.”

“Just resting my eyes,” Sinclair replied with a yawn. He stretched, and when he lowered his arms, his hand instinctively fell on her knee. “I’ll do it more often if it means a beautiful woman will appear by my side.”

Betty blushed.

“I hope you don’t mind I let myself in…”

“Of course not. I’m so glad to see you — but, um, why are you here?”

“I, erm… I was at an art thing with Lionel. I wanted to go home early so he called his driver and apparently told him to take me here.” She rolled her eyes. “He’s desperate for us to get back together.”

“I know he is,” Sinclair replied cautiously, trying not to make it too obvious that he was desperate for the same thing. “But you can stay here anyway if you like. I’ll make up the guest room for you - or I’ll sleep in there and you can have my bed, I know you like the mattress.”

“No, Sinclair, you don’t have to do that —”

“I insist!” Sinclair said stubbornly, pouting a little to emphasise his point, and Betty fought back the urge to kiss his cute lips. “If you don’t, I’ll sleep on the sofa and no one will have the comfy bed.”

Of course, they could both sleep in the bed - they’d done it plenty of times before. Betty couldn’t stand the idea of sleeping in that bed with Sinclair in another room, as if she’d kicked him out. Sinclair was right, his mattress was amazing… and even comfier with his chest as a pillow.

She became suddenly aware that his hand was on her knee. She tentatively placed her hand over his, and when he glanced down, both of them surprised at the electricity of her touch, Betty leaned forward and connected her lips to his.

There was no hesitation, no surprise. They just melted into each other’s touch immediately, both so relieved to finally taste the other again after far too long. Sinclair placed his hands on Betty’s hips and lifted her side-saddle onto his lap before wrapping his arms around her torso to hold her close. He felt her tongue pressing against his lips and was more than happy to part them for her, allowing her to taste him again.

She wanted to straddle him, but her skirt was too tight, so she pulled it up around her waist to expose her legs and allow them to sit either side of his hips. Sinclair immediately reached for her exposed skin, hands grabbing at the flesh of her thighs as she released his lips to kiss his neck, teeth grazing at his skin, making him whine in that beautiful way she’d missed so much.

Sinclair wasn’t sure what had changed, but he wasn’t going to argue. He was too intoxicated by her, by her touch, her smell, the taste of her skin on his lips as he kissed whatever part of her head he was able to get access to as she mapped a trail along his neck, as if she were determined to leave him a chain of lovebites.

He could feel his cock growing between his legs, because how could it not when she was on top of him, both of them in their underwear from the waist down, leaving only two small pieces of fabric between them.

He wanted to be inside her, but the part of him that still screamed with guilt at the way he’d hurt her refused to let him. He didn’t deserve that, he didn’t deserve her — but she deserved everything she wanted, and he’d do anything to give it to her.

Sinclair reached between their bodies to push his hand under Betty’s underwear, and he let out a groan of desire when he ran his fingers through her hair, the hair he loved to bury himself in as he brought her pleasure any way he could.

“Please,” Betty gasped, speaking for the first time since their lips had connected. “Clair… I need you.”

“You have me,” he promised, his eyes burning into hers with a fierce amber glow.

He slipped a finger and then a second inside her, her wetness easily letting him past her entrance. God, she was dripping, and he could hardly believe it was all for him.

Betty grabbed onto Sinclair’s shoulder with one hand and the back of his neck with the other as he thrust his fingers inside her, reaching up to her sweet spot with practised ease. She pulled on his hair a little, knowing he liked it, and he let out a whine that sounded almost like her name.

As if his fingers weren’t enough, Sinclair pressed his thumb against her clit, circling it in rhythm with the thrust of his fingers, and Betty groaned hungrily.

“Oh, god, Clair… Clair, that feels so good…”

“I love you, Betty,” Sinclair blurted out, unable to keep it inside any longer. His heart was full with love for her, and his cock full of lust, and he knew one of them had to burst.

“I - I love you too, Sinclair,” Betty gasped between moans. “So - so much… I couldn’t resist you anymore…”

“I’m glad you didn’t, because I’ve been dying to touch you again. To kiss you - hold you - fill you up… I missed you so fucking much…”

“How about we both take that bed tonight?” Betty said mischievously.

“Mmm, yes, please…”

“Come on, then.”

Betty pulled away from him and stood up, adjusting her hitched-up skirt to fall down her legs again, looking as if she hadn’t just had Sinclair’s fingers inside her a moment ago - he, meanwhile, had the clear evidence of their escapades glistening on his fingers, not to mention the obvious erection underneath his boxers.

Eager to touch her again, Sinclair stood up and scooped her into his arms bridal-style, causing her to yelp with surprise.

“Hold me a little higher,” she giggled as he navigated around the sofa, and Sinclair obliged, lifting her up so her head was level with his.

“Wow, so this is what it’s like to be tall.”

Sinclair laughed.

“It does get dizzying. Mind your head.”

He turned slightly to the side to carry her through the doorway, then up the stairs to his bedroom, all the while trying not to get distracted by the way Betty was working on the lovebites she seemed determined to leave on his neck.

“Are you trying to eat me up?” Sinclair asked.

“Yes,” Betty replied as she nibbled on his collarbone. “Do you think your coworkers will notice?”

“Definitely.”

“Good.”

Sinclair laughed as Betty continued feasting on him, and when he leant down to lower her onto the bed, she kept a firm grip on his shoulders and pulled him down with her. They both fell onto the bed, giggling, and Betty felt a sense of relief wash over her as she sank into Sinclair’s mattress, with Sinclair on top of her, both of them battling to give each other the most neck kisses.

“Nooo, come back,” Betty whined as Sinclair kissed his way past her collarbone and down her partly-exposed chest, but he just looked up at her and grinned mischievously.

“You’ll like what I have in mind,” he promised.

He pulled down her knickers as he moved down her body, tossed them aside, then settled into his favourite position: kneeling between her legs, face between her thighs, his tongue lapping up her heavenly taste.

“Sinclair…”

God, he’d missed this. The taste of her arousal, the sound of her moans, the feeling of her thighs twitching against him with each flick of his tongue. All he wanted to do was to please her, to give her everything she wanted — and, for reasons he couldn’t understand, she still wanted him.

And boy, did he want her. His boxers were bursting at the seams trying to contain his throbbing cock, and each time he adjusted his position slightly, just the slightest bit of friction threatened to set him off. But he ignored it, focusing entirely on her.

He could honestly stay there for hours between her legs, feasting on his favourite snack, but after he’d elicited a third orgasm from her, she called for a timeout.

“I was enjoying that,” Sinclair whined teasingly, although of course he pulled away as soon as she asked him to.

“Me too,” Betty panted, her breaths heavy and her skin slick with sweat. “Just… just need a break.”

“Of course, darling.”

Sinclair wriggled back up the bed to lay next to her, and although he was much taller than her, he naturally curled into her, resting his head on her shoulder as she absent-mindedly played with his hair.

“Betty?” Sinclair mumbled after a few minutes.

“Hm?”

“I just want to be clear. Are we - is this - um…”

He looked up at her, eyes wide.

“Does this mean I get to be your boyfriend again?”

Betty laughed. If she didn’t know Sinclair so well, she might have been offended at the suggestion that this could be anything casual.

“So long as you promise not to go back to your wife again,” she said, half-joking.

Sinclair propped himself up on his elbow and nodded sincerely.

“I promise. There’s no one else for me, Betty. There never will be. I regretted what I did as soon as I did it. But I… I really thought I was doing the right thing. I know now that even if the baby was mine… better to be raised by happy divorced parents than miserable married ones.”

“Finally, he admits it!” Betty cheered. “Took you long enough.”

Sinclair glanced away, embarrassed.

“I know. I’m sorry. For all of it. For leaving you, for believing her… for dumping Goldie on you without even asking. And I’m sorry I was so suspicious of you and Lionel. I broke your heart and he helped you put your life back together, and I paid you both back by making my own jealousy your problem. You’ve done so well without me, Betty. I’m so proud of everything you’ve done. I - I want you to know that. Whatever becomes of us… I’m so, so proud of you.”

Betty smiled and reached up to stroke his cheek. He smiled and melted into her touch.

“Clair… all I ever wanted was to be enough for you.”

“You’re everything to me,” Sinclair confessed, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I just hope I can be good enough for you. I’ll do anything for you, Betty. I love you.”

“Make love to me, Sinclair,” Betty begged. “Show me just how you feel.”

Sinclair whined with desire, his still very much erect cock twitching with the need to be inside her.

“I don’t have any condoms left,” he admitted. “We ran out last time you were here and…”

“You’ve not - you and Natalie never —?”

He shook his head.

“Not since you. Have you —?”

“No. There’s no one else for me, Sinclair, you know that. And I - I trust you. If you say you’re clean…”

His eyes widened.

“I am, but… what about —? I won’t last long, Betty, I don’t know if I can pull out in time…”

“I’m still on the pill. I trust you, Clair… but only if you want to…”

“I do! God, yes - yes, I do!”

He fumbled with his boxers, eager to get them off, and Betty pulled her dress over her head, both of them laughing as they fumbled with their clothes.

“Look at you, Clair, you’re fit to burst,” Betty teased, taking a gentle hold of his cock to feel its hardness in her hand. “Is that all for me?”

“Yes, all for you… fuck, you have no idea what you do to me, Betty…”

“Then show me.”

She guided him to her entrance, and when he pushed forward, the remnants of her three orgasms combined with the precum he was leaking for her let him slide into her with ease.

Betty let out some garbled sound that might have been words, or maybe it was just a groan - she didn’t even know herself. All she knew was that the feeling of Sinclair’s raw cock sliding up her walls was beyond anything she could have imagined, so much better and more intimate without a condom between them, and the room was filled with the sound of both of them moaning with pleasure as they savoured the feeling of one another with no barriers, no tension, no guilt and no anger. It was her, and him, and nothing but the love they had for each other.

“I love you, Betty,” Sinclair murmured in her ear. “I’ll say it again and again until I’ve made it up to you. I love you, I love you, I love you…”

Betty wrapped her arms around his shoulders and embraced him, holding him as tight as she could, kisses ghosting the side of his head as she savoured the feeling of him, his smell, his presence… the love that radiated from them both as their hearts overflowed.

“I forgive you,” Betty said softly.

Sinclair let out a sob. His body shuddered, and he buried his head in her neck, ashamed to let her see a tear fall from his eye.

They rolled over so smoothly, neither of them could really say who instigated the movement, but their hips stayed connected, and with Sinclair on his back, Betty sat up and smiled as she looked down on him.

“You’ve been through enough, Sinclair. Let me take care of you.”

The tears rolling down his cheeks did nothing to put her off. As she gently moved her hips, slowly so as not to overwhelm him or make him finish too soon, Betty took Sinclair’s hand in hers, their fingers intertwining as she rocked her hips back and forth with small, precise movements. Neither of them chased their orgasm; they both knew they could do that any time. But being together here and now, sharing the connection they had — it was something neither of them had thought they would ever have again, and they weren’t about to rush it.

When he could sense she was getting tired, Sinclair gently moved Betty onto her back, and he took over thrusting. She knew just how to angle her hips to drive him crazy, and when she wiggled her hips beneath him just right, Sinclair knew he wouldn’t last long.

“I - I’m so close, Betty,” Sinclair groaned, his voice hoarse. “Where…?”

“Inside,” Betty replied with a high-pitched whine to her voice Sinclair had never heard before. “I trust you, Sinclair. Please… I want all of you…”

“I’m yours,” Sinclair promised, and as he let his peak wash over him, Betty felt him twitching inside her as he filled her up, his seed filling her just as much as his love did. He mumbled something that sounded like her name, and when he collapsed on top of her, she wanted nothing more than to hold him close forever and never let him go.

For a few moments, that’s what she did, both of them breathing heavily as they recovered, and once they’d begun to cool down from the exertion, Sinclair reluctantly unstuck himself and rolled off of her.

“You need to —”

“— use the toilet. I know.”

The diligent way he always ensured she avoided infection was nothing short of adorable. Betty went to the bathroom, and when she sat down to pee, she saw not just her urine but his seed too, and she gave it a little push to be sure. She took the pill every day, and Sinclair could probably tell her the exact percentage chance of her getting pregnant while taking it, but she couldn’t be too careful.

Strangely, although the idea of a man finishing inside her had always filled her with dread, she felt nothing of the sort. She’d wanted Sinclair to finish inside her - begged him to. And while her feelings on pregnancy hadn’t changed, she trusted Sinclair implicitly. So long as she stayed on the pill, she’d happily let him fill her up again and again.

Betty emerged from the bathroom after taking a quick shower to wash off the sweat, and to her disappointment Sinclair was gone - but on the bed was a set of pyjamas she used to keep in a drawer and, apparently, still did. Her heart leapt at the thought that he’d kept her stuff; it made her feel a little better about the fact she’d kept his.

Sinclair backed into the room holding a tray, and Betty quickly finished pulling her bonnet over her hair before rushing to his side to help him.

“Thanks,” Sinclair said as Betty took the jug of water from the tray and placed it on the dresser. Of course he’d gone to fetch some water for them - as well as his book and some snacks.

“I see you kept my nightie,” Betty said teasingly.

Sinclair blushed as he went to pour some water.

“I couldn’t bring myself to open your drawer. I guess part of me hoped you’d need it again one day… but I knew if I opened it, I’d have no reason to leave it there. So I didn’t touch it. Here, make sure you drink some water. I brought snacks, too, if you’re hungry.”

“You’re too good to me, Sinclair,” Betty chuckled before popping a grape in her mouth. “I missed our after-sex snacks. Somehow food always tastes better after sex.”

“We’ve worked up an appetite!” Sinclair said happily through a mouthful of grapes. “I forgot how exhausting it is.”

“Hmm, and after-sex cuddles, I missed them too.”

Sinclair nodded in agreement, his mouth still full of grapes, and he took her hand to lead her back to the bed.

He swallowed, then said, “Do you mind if I read my book for a bit?”

“Of course not. So long as you don’t mind if I cuddle up to you while you read it.”

“Definitely not!”

Sinclair put an arm around Betty as she got herself into a comfortable position, her head on the pillow and an arm over his waist as he sat up and reached for his book.

“Just one chapter,” he promised.

“As much as you want, babe,” Betty replied sleepily, her eyelids already drooping, and she was asleep before Sinclair had even finished a page.