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argumentativantitheticaldream · 28 days ago

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𝐈 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲

ੈ✩₊christmas at your old family home˚˚୨୧⋆

Warnings: age-gap, smut and handjob

Word Count: 7.2k

Under the twinkling string lights that were somehow still aglow, the path to my old holiday home glistened with an incandescent glow, blanketed in a thick layer of freshly fallen snow. Towering evergreens flanked either side, their boughs sagging under the weight of frost, as though bowing in reverence to the season’s magic. I stopped to stare at the shimmering colors that reflected off the frosty ground, their soft hues painted the snow beautifully.

The air was crisp, biting at my cheeks, but it carried that unmistakable scent of pine and woodsmoke, a fragrance that wrapped around me like a scarf. Every crunch of my boots felt louder than it should, the sound sharp in the stillness. Yet it’s a sound I could remember clearer now, as though the years had rolled back in an instant.

The house appeared suddenly through the trees, as though it’d been waiting for my presence. Its roof was heavy with snow, the gables edged with glinting icicles. The front windows glistened softly, the warm light inside spilling onto the porch, onto the wreath hanging on the door. The red ribbon was a little frayed and the plastic firs had started to discolour but it was that same wreath from all those years ago.

Every step I took over the frost-laden ground seemed as though I was splitting the peace this house had sat in for years. I could almost hear the hum of voices from years ago, how my mother would call us in from the cold, the sound of wrapping paper tearing and the crackle of the fire. For a moment, I wasn’t stood at an abandoned house but I was outside of a home bustling with people. Laughter seemed to echo faintly, ghostly yet comforting, woven into the fabric of this place. I recalled snowball fights in the front yard, the smell of cinnamon wafting from the kitchen, and the way the world always seemed simpler here. The memories are almost tangible, pressed against me like a familiar embrace.

The path, though dusted with snow, felt alive like an artery that led straight to the heart of my childhood, pulsing with the energy of holidays past. As I reached the porch, I hesitated, letting the moment linger. It felt as though the house had been waiting for me, timeless and tender.

I hesitated for a moment on the porch, my hand hovering over the doorknob. It felt almost sacred, standing here again, as though stepping inside might disturb the memories still lingering in the air. But the soft glow of the lights through the frosted windows and the faint hum of something–music?, drew me forward.

As the door creaked open, the familiar scent hit me first: pine, woodsmoke, and something faintly spiced, like mulled wine or cinnamon. The warmth of the room wrapped around me instantly, chasing away the chill clinging to my coat. I stepped inside, and there he was, my dad's best friend, Alex, standing near the fireplace, his broad shoulders backlit by the dancing flames.

He looked the same as I remembered, though a few fine lines had etched themselves around his eyes and mouth, giving him a rugged, almost weathered charm. His brown hair, still thick, caught the light, glinting with strands of silver that hadn’t been there before. And his eyes—deep and warm, the kind of brown that reminded me of autumn woods met mine, sparking with recognition and something unspoken.

“Look at you,” he said, his voice a low rumble, full of surprise and affection. “It’s been… what? Seven years?”

I managed a shy smile, brushing the snowflakes from my hair as I stepped fully into the room. “Eight,” I corrected softly, my voice small in the cozy expanse of the living room. The contrast between us struck me in that moment; he, tall and steady, every bit the grown man I’d remembered, and me, barely twenty and still finding my place in the world. I was sweet, I suppose, in the way people describe someone who hasn’t yet been hardened by life. Though we shared the same brown hair and eyes, he carried the weight of experience, and mine the soft light of youth.

Alex chuckled, running a hand through his hair as if trying to shake off the years. “You’re not a kid anymore.”

I shrugged out of my coat, suddenly self-conscious under his gaze, though it was anything but unkind. “And you haven’t changed a bit,” I said, though it wasn’t entirely true. He’d grown older, yes, but there was something deeper there, an enduring warmth, a steadiness that felt grounding that I hadn't noticed until now.

“Come on,” he said, stepping forward and reaching for my coat. “Let’s get you warmed up. You must be freezing out there.”

As he moved past me, his presence filled the space, familiar and comforting in a way that made the house feel even more alive. It was like stepping back in time, but with a strange, bittersweet edge because though nothing had truly changed, I had. I rubbed my hands together, trying to shake the chill from my fingers, even though the warmth of the room was already sinking into me. Alex motioned for me to sit by the fire, but I hesitated, still standing awkwardly in the center of the living room.

“I didn’t… I didn’t mean to show up while you were here,” I blurted, my voice tumbling out faster than I intended. “I just-” I gestured vaguely toward the door, my cheeks flushing under his steady gaze. “I wanted to visit the house. I didn’t know anyone would be here.”

Alex tilted his head slightly, his expression softening. “Why would you think no one would be here? It’s Christmas. Of course someone’s here.”

I shrugged, biting my lip. “I don’t know… I thought maybe it’d just be empty. Like it used to be when we’d come up for the holidays, you know? I guess I just wanted to…” I trailed off, searching for the right words not finding them until he’d interrupted.

His eyes softened, the corners of his mouth twitching into a small, understanding smile. “To remember,” he muttered, as though the words carried weight for him.

“I didn’t mean to intrude,” I added suddenly. “I didn’t even know if the place would still look the same.” I hesitated, my eyes darting to the wreath on the door, the glow of the lights, the crackling fire.

Alex stepped closer, his voice gentle but firm. “You’re not intruding, sweetheart. It’s as much yours as it is mine.”

The warmth in his words caught me off guard, and I found myself swallowing hard against the sudden lump in my throat. For a moment, I just stood there, staring at him, unsure of what to say.

He broke the silence, his voice lightening with a hint of a teasing edge. “Besides, if anyone’s intruding, it’s probably me. I just came up here to get away for a few days, clear my head. Didn’t expect to have company.”

I laughed softly, the sound awkward but genuine. “I guess that makes two of us.”

Alex smiled, his gaze lingering on me for a beat longer before he nodded toward the couch. “Well, since we’re both here, I might as well make the best of it. Sit down. Warm up. I’ll make some tea—unless you’re still a hot chocolate kind of girl?”

I felt my face flush again, this time with a warmth that had nothing to do with the fire. “Hot chocolate sounds perfect,” I admitted quietly, and he nodded, disappearing into the kitchen.

As I sat down on the worn couch, the memories seemed to wrap around me like an old quilt. I let my eyes wander over the room: the familiar beams of the ceiling, the photographs still on the mantel, the faint hum of Christmas music crackling from a vintage radio in the corner. This place hadn’t forgotten me, not even after all these years.

The kitchen was steeped in a quiet kind of warmth, the kind that wrapped itself around you and refused to let go. The air smelled of chocolate, rich and sweet, mingling faintly with the scent of aged wood and the faint musk of a house that had seen generations pass through its doors. I cradled the chipped mug in my hands, its warmth soothing my cold fingers. The faded floral pattern on its surface seemed to whisper of the past, of hands long gone that had held it just as I did now.

Across from me, Alex sat in the weathered stool that shifted under his weight. He held his mug close, letting the steam rise and curl around his face like an ephemeral veil.

“You’d have caught your death if you stayed out in that snow any longer, love,” he said, his voice quiet but filled with an easy familiarity. His eyes scanned the room, lingering on the crooked bookshelf, the worn rug, the faded curtains that swayed slightly in the draft from the window, I assumed he was avoiding my intrusive gaze.

I took a sip from my mug. The chocolate was thick and velvety, the perfect kind of sweet. It spread warmth through my chest, a feeling that wasn’t entirely from the drink.

For a while, we talked about everything and nothing, our voices mingling with the sound of the wind outside. The house seemed to breathe with us, its wooden bones creaking softly in response. I watched Alex’s hands as they wrapped around his mug, his fingers strong yet gentle, his nails short and clean. The way his thumb traced absent circles along the edge of the ceramic seemed almost hypnotic.

As I reached for my mug again, our hands brushed. Just a whisper of skin against skin, but it was enough to make the moment still. His fingers were warm, rougher than I’d expected, but gentle in a way that sent a ripple of something unspoken through me.

He glanced up, his eyes meeting mine for a fleeting second. “Sorry,” he murmured, though his hand didn’t move right away.

“It’s fine,” I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. The words felt heavier than they should have, carrying a weight I couldn’t quite name.

For a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath. The fire crackled faintly in the corner, but everything else faded into the stillness between us. Then Alex pulled his hand away, his lips curving into a sheepish grin.

“Careful,” he said lightly, breaking the tension as he raised his mug again. “Wouldn’t want to spill and ruin your mother’s precious mugs.”

I smiled, though my heart was still beating faster than it should. “She’d never let me live it down.”

He laughed softly, the sound filling the room, but the echo of that brief touch lingered, quietly reshaping the space between us.

The fire crackled softly, its warmth seeping into the room and wrapping around us like a heavy quilt. I stretched out on the sofa, my legs tucked under me, while he sat at the other end, one arm resting along the backrest, the other draped casually over his lap. His presence filled the room effortlessly, a quiet confidence that seemed to settle into the old wooden beams and faded upholstery.

The bows on the back of my boots caught his eye as I shifted slightly, the ribbons brushing against the sofa cushions. Without saying a word, he leaned forward, his fingers brushing the edge of the soft fabric.

“These are… sweet,” he said, his voice low, almost amused, as he hooked a finger around one of the loops and tugged gently.

I glanced over at him, catching the playful smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Sweet?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

He nodded, his hand still toying with the ribbon, the firelight catching the roughness of his knuckles. “Yeah. Like something a little girl would wear. But they suit you.”

I scoffed, though I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks. “You know, some people find them charming.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” he said, his voice teasing but soft. He tugged at the bow again, looser this time, like he was testing the strength of the knot. His fingers lingered there, warm and deliberate, as though the act of untying it was more interesting than it should have been.

“Alex,” I warned, trying to sound light, though the closeness of his hand sent a shiver through me. “tying those bows took ages.”

His grin widened. “That so? Guess I’d better not ruin your handiwork, then.”

For a moment, neither of us moved. His fingers hovered over the ribbon, brushing lightly against the fabric, and I could feel every quiet pull of the room between us. His eyes flicked up to meet mine, the playful smile fading just slightly, replaced by something softer, quieter.

“I didn’t think you’d still wear things like this,” he said, almost to himself.

I shrugged, my voice a little more hesitant now. “I guess some things don’t change.”

“Not everything has to,” he murmured, letting the ribbon slip from his fingers before leaning back again, the firelight catching the thoughtful curve of his smile.

The ribbon fluttered back into place as he leaned into the sofa, his arm brushing the backrest as though claiming the space between us without thought. I adjusted slightly, the blanket slipping from my shoulders to pool at my waist, though the fire’s heat was enough to keep the chill at bay.

He tilted his head to look at me, his gaze steady but warm. “Houses like this… they take on the weight of the people who leave them behind. It’s why I never stayed in one place long enough to feel that.” his tone shifted back to something firmer, though it still held that quiet intimacy that he seemed to demand.

I looked at him, his words hanging in the air. There was a quiet honesty in what he said, a crack in the carefully composed presence he always carried. “That’s not true, though,” I said, leaning forward slightly. “You come back to people, don’t you? That’s what this is, isn’t it?”

He glanced at me then, the corner of his mouth twitching like he wanted to smile but couldn’t quite let it through. “Touché,” he said, and for a moment, the tension eased, a soft laugh settling between us.

I leaned back again, letting the sofa creak beneath me. “I guess this place will always feel like home,” I said, turning my gaze to the fire. “Even if it’s not the same anymore.”

I felt his hand then, resting on the back of the sofa, just inches from my shoulder. It wasn’t intentional, not exactly, but I was suddenly aware of how little space there was between us. My breath caught slightly, though I tried to hide it, shifting to tuck my legs beneath me again.

The blanket slipped further, and without thinking, he reached out to adjust it, his fingers brushing against my arm. The touch was light, but it sent a ripple through me, one I knew he must have noticed.

The silence between us wasn’t uncomfortable, it was thick, heavy with all the words we weren’t saying. The fire crackled softly, the warmth of it pressing against my skin, but it was his presence that made my chest tighten.

“Funny, isn’t it?” he said finally, breaking the quiet. His voice was low, his gaze still fixed on the fire. “How some moments feel bigger than they should. Like this one. Sitting here with you.”

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. “Yeah,” I said, barely managing the word. “Funny.”

He turned to me then, his expression unreadable but his eyes searching mine, as though waiting for me to say something else or maybe as though he wanted to speak but couldn’t quite find the words.

I hesitated, my eyes dropping to the ribbon he’d let fall loose on my boot. “Everything feels so different when you’re not a kid anymore. The way the house creaks, the way the fire sounds, it’s all the same, but it doesn’t feel the same.”

He nodded, leaning back just slightly, his arm still draped across the back of the sofa. “That’s growing up, I guess. You start to realize the world’s not as big as it felt when you were younger. The edges get sharper. Things feel… closer.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and I wasn’t sure if he was talking about the house or us.

I glanced at him, his face illuminated by the firelight. There was something in the way he looked at me, something quiet and unspoken, as though he was trying to puzzle out the thoughts I couldn’t bring myself to say.

“Closer, huh?” I said, forcing a smile to keep my voice steady. “That’s one way to put it.”

His eyes flicked to mine, catching the faintest hint of mischief. “You have another way?”

I felt the corners of my mouth tug upward despite myself. “Maybe. But I’m not sure you’d like it.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, shifting slightly closer, just enough for me to feel the weight of his presence. “I’m pretty open-minded.”

The words were light, teasing even, but the way he looked at me softened their edge. I bit my lip, unsure whether the warmth in my chest was from the fire or from him.

“Don’t test me,” I said, feigning a warning tone, though I couldn’t keep the smile from my voice.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied, though his gaze lingered, betraying the lie.

The silence that followed felt thicker this time, not awkward but charged, as though the room itself was holding its breath. I let my fingers trail along the edge of the blanket again, a nervous habit I couldn’t seem to shake.

“You’re quiet all of a sudden,” he said, his voice dipping lower, enough to make my pulse quicken.

I glanced at him, meeting his eyes only briefly before looking away. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

The word hung between us, an invitation I wasn’t sure how to answer. I hesitated, letting my gaze drop to the ribbon again, its soft edges now slightly undone.

“You’re doing it again,” he said, his voice tinged with amusement.

“Doing what?” I asked, though I knew exactly what he meant.

“Deflecting,” he said simply, reaching out to brush his fingers against the ribbon again. This time, he tugged it loose entirely, the bow unraveling beneath his touch.

“Alex!” I protested, sitting up straighter.

He smirked, holding up the ribbon as though it were a prize. “Relax. I’ll tie it back, better than it was before.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, though my heart betrayed me with its quickened beat. “You’d better. That bow took me ages.”

“Liar,” he said, leaning forward to take hold of the loose ends. His fingers worked deftly, surprisingly careful for hands that looked so strong.

I watched him, the firelight playing across his features, his brow furrowed slightly in concentration. “You’re awfully invested in this bow,” I said softly, my voice almost lost in the crackle of the fire.

He glanced up at me then, his fingers stilling for just a moment. “Maybe it’s not about the bow.”

The words hit me harder than they should have, the weight of them settling in my chest. I held his gaze, my breath catching as the charged silence returned, this time sharper, more defined.

“Then what is it about?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes searched mine, and for a moment, I thought he might actually answer. But instead, he tied the ribbon neatly, his fingers brushing against the back of my boot as he leaned back with a quiet smile.

“Done,” he said softly, his tone lighter now, though his eyes still held something deeper. “Better than it was before.”

I stared at him, my chest tight with the weight of the moment. “What is it about, Alex?,” I said, though my voice wavered.

His smile deepened, his hand resting casually on the cushion between us. “Shh, darling, you’re disrupting the silence.”

The ribbon sat perfectly tied, a little neater than before, though I barely registered it. My focus was on him, on the easy way he leaned back, his arm still resting on the back of the sofa, his fingers so close they might as well have brushed my shoulder.

The firelight danced across his face, softening the sharp angles of his jaw, and for a moment, I wondered if he felt it too–the pull, the quiet gravity between us that seemed to grow stronger with every passing second.

“You’re staring,” he said, his voice breaking through my thoughts. His tone was light, teasing, but there was something behind it, something softer.

I blinked, caught off guard, and quickly glanced away. “No, I’m not.”

“You are,” he said with a quiet laugh, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “Should I be flattered?”

I scoffed, though my cheeks burned. “Maybe I was just admiring your handiwork.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. “The bow, huh?”

“Yes,” I said firmly, though the edge in my voice didn’t quite land. “It’s a very good bow.”

“Thanks, m’love” he said, leaning a little closer, the movement subtle but impossible to ignore. “I take pride in my work.”

The shift in the air was palpable. The teasing, the playful back-and-forth, it was still there, but now it felt like it was building toward something, like the words were just a way to stall whatever was about to happen next.

“I’ll have to keep that in mind,” I murmured, my voice quieter now, almost unsure.

I swallowed, my throat tight, and glanced back up at him. The firelight reflected in his eyes, warm and steady, and for a moment, I felt completely unmoored, like I was standing at the edge of something I couldn’t name.

His voice split the silence, holding a sincere air of honesty. “Christmas doesn’t feel the same now, when I’m not spending it here with your family. When I’m not with you,”

The silence that followed was almost unbearable, thick and heavy with words unsaid. I could feel my heart pounding, and I was sure he could hear it too, the sound impossibly loud in the quiet of the room.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” I whispered finally, my voice barely audible.

“Why not?” he asked, his gaze unwavering.

“Because…” I hesitated, my breath catching as I searched for an answer. “Because it feels wrong.”

The corner of his mouth lifted, just slightly, but there was no humor in his expression. “Maybe it’s supposed to.”

His hand shifted then, moving from the back of the sofa to rest on the cushion between us. The movement was small, almost imperceptible, but it made my pulse race.

“Are you going to keep playing with that blanket,” he asked, his tone light again, though his eyes betrayed him, “or are you going to actually look at me?”

I froze, my fingers stilling on the fabric as I glanced up at him. His gaze was steady, unwavering, and for the first time, I realized how close he was, close enough that I could feel the warmth of him, even with the fire blazing in the corner.

“I’m looking,” I said softly, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

“Good,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

The room seemed to hold its breath, the fire’s crackle the only sound as his words settled between us. I couldn’t move, couldn’t think—all I could do was watch him, my heart pounding as though it was trying to tell me something I wasn’t ready to hear.

His calloused touch grazed the bows again, this time pulling my boots off with a gentleness that I’d not expected coming from him. He gently pulled at the hem of my sock and ushered me over with a slight nod of his head, his voice monotonous and sure. “Over here, darling.”

The space between us seemed to shrink with every heartbeat, the air heavier, charged with an electric tension that neither of us could ignore. I could feel the weight of his gaze, steady and warm, pulling me toward him. My breath caught as I shifted slightly, the blanket slipping from my shoulders entirely now, exposing the softness of the moment in its most raw form. I wasn’t sure what possessed me, but something in the stillness between us, in the way he looked at me, something told me to move.

Without thinking, I shifted closer, just a little at first, then a little more, until my legs brushed against his. His body shifted instinctively, creating space, but his eyes never left mine, the quiet invitation undeniable.

I settled in slowly, my knees grazing his, my hands resting lightly on his chest for balance, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my fingertips. The sudden proximity, the closeness of his warmth, made my pulse quicken. It was like everything I’d been trying to hide, every silent question, was suddenly laid bare.

There was no hesitation in his gaze, only a softness, a kind of understanding that made my heart race faster than before. And before I could second-guess myself, I shifted again, this time fully into his lap, my legs gently draped over his, my body pressed flush against his chest. The warmth between us was almost overwhelming, but it was a comfort too.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The crackle of the fire filled the silence, and I could hear his steady breathing, feel the way his chest rose and fell beneath my fingertips. My hands rested against his collarbone, the steady rhythm of his pulse under my palm grounding me.

“You’re still quiet,” he murmured, his voice rougher now, like he was trying to keep his own composure. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

I leaned in just slightly, enough for my forehead to rest against his, the gentle heat of his skin against mine making everything else fade away. “Just… taking it all in,” I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. “This moment. You.”

His hands moved then, slowly, carefully, like he was unsure of how much space to take up. One of his hands slid gently up my back, just grazing the skin beneath the hem of my sweater, the touch so light it made my breath catch.

“You feel so… real,” he said, his voice low, thick with meaning. “Like everything else is just noise, and you’re the only thing that's… real.”

I shivered slightly, the warmth of his words sinking into me, filling the space between us in ways I hadn’t expected. Slowly, carefully, I reached up, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw, the rough stubble beneath my fingertips grounding me in this strange, quiet moment.

“I feel it too,” I whispered, moving even closer, until I could feel the heat of his breath against my lips.

He didn’t pull away. Instead, his hand moved to cradle the back of my neck, his thumb brushing softly over my skin, and I closed the small distance between us.

The kiss was slow at first, tender, like we were both trying to navigate the weight of everything that was unspoken between us. His lips were warm, the taste of him familiar, yet new in a way that sent a flutter through my chest. As we deepened the kiss, I felt him pull me closer, the steady thrum of his heart syncing with mine.

When we finally pulled away, our foreheads still pressed together, I could feel the lingering warmth of him, the shared space between us now feeling like something undeniably real.

“Isn’t this wrong?” I said softly, my voice barely more than a breath.

“Do you think it is?” he whispered back, his fingers brushing through my hair, sending a shiver down my spine.

I shake my head.

I shifted, pressing in a little more, my hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the warmth radiating from him, the solid strength of his body beneath my touch. His hands shifted too, grazing the sides of my face before gently cupping my jaw, his thumb lightly brushing over my lips.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice a whisper, a tremor of uncertainty threading through it, as if he needed my affirmation before he let himself lean in further.

I nodded, a soft exhale escaping me, a breathless laugh at the back of my throat. “Certain,” I whispered. The words felt like an admission, like a truth I hadn’t known I was ready to speak until now.

Without another word, he closed the space between us again, his lips brushing mine once more. This time, the kiss was deeper, more insistent, as if we were both trying to capture something, to hold onto this fleeting connection before it slipped away. His hands slid down to my waist, pulling me in closer, until I could feel the length of him pressed against me, the warmth of his body completely surrounding me.

I didn’t pull away, didn’t hesitate. Instead, I shifted, moving so that I was straddling his lap, my hands curling around the back of his neck, pulling him even closer, as though we were two parts of something that had always been meant to fit together.

His breath hitched, and I could feel the heat rising between us, a soft tension hanging in the air as I traced my fingers along his jaw, feeling the roughness of his stubble beneath my fingertips. He shuddered slightly at the touch, his hands moving to my back again, the warmth of them seeping through my clothes.

“You feel so right here,” he murmured, his lips grazing the edge of my ear as he spoke. The words sent a shiver down my spine, and I pressed in closer, my hands tightening around his neck.

“I know,” I breathed, the sound of my voice a soft gasp against his skin. “I don’t want this to stop.”

His lips found mine again, this kiss more urgent, more frantic, as if we were both desperately trying to keep hold of something that felt too perfect to let go of. My body responded instinctively, moving closer, pressing into him, and I could feel the way his pulse raced under my fingers.

His hands slid up my back, the heat of them spreading through my sweater, and I gasped softly, my body arching toward him in response. The moment felt suspended, as though time itself was holding its breath, waiting for us to take the next step, to move even closer.

Alex’s voice was soft, his hands found my hips and gripped them just enough to keep me steady in his lap. He gently guided my hips over his lap and a pit of warmth settled in my lower stomach, a familiar feeling that echoed through my entire body. His erection pushed against me, straining against the thin polyester of his trousers and it left me aching.

I was already gasping, each subtle shift of his body causing his trousers to rub against mine, sending waves of burning pleasure through my every nerve. The friction, every tiny contact, was enough to leave me breathless, my pulse quickening with each passing second.

“Alex, please-” I murmured against his skin, my voice barely a whisper but heavy with the weight of what I longed for. I tried so hard to maintain some semblance of control, but the need was growing, the desire coiling inside of me. I could feel his warmth radiating through the fabric of my clothes, like his very touch was igniting a fire within me. My hands clutched at his shirt, my nails lightly digging into his skin as if grounding myself, trying not to let the rush of feelings overtake me.

A reassuring nod brushed against my hair, the weight of his breath warm and steady. Then, with deliberate slowness, his hands slid down my sides, the sensation sending a soft ripple through me, each movement more intentional than the last. My breath caught as he paused at my hips, his fingertips grazing the gold embellishments of his belt before he quickly unbuckled the strip of leather and let it falter to the ground. I felt my chest tighten, and the world around us seemed to fade, leaving only the two of us in this fragile moment of suspended tension.

His hands moved lower, steady, calculated, as if he was savoring every inch of my skin he could touch. I could barely catch my breath, each moment feeling like an eternity, his body an undeniable magnet pulling me closer. My pulse raced as he leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Lift your hip, love.” His voice was muffled against my skin as he left kisses down my jaw but I still complied, lifting my hips from his lap.

He didn't waste a second, tugging down his trousers and boxers simultaneously, needing to free himself from the pressure and then his hands found me. The tenderness of his touch juxtaposed the way he’s just handled himself, his rough fingers trailed up my skin and under my skirt, finding my panties. He held my hips firmly and pushed up against me, his tip brushing the material of my underwear. It was achingly pleasurable and a reluctant whine spilled from my lips.

He was relentless as he spread his precum over the fabric and rubbed the lace over my clit only using his length. I bit down on my lip and his eyes caught mine. A wicked grin found his mouth and he nodded knowingly, slowly slidiing two fingers down from my navel to my clit, then pushing the fabric aside, spreading the wetness around which echoed through the confined space of the living room.

“So wet for me, love.” His voice was husky and drawled as if his sentence was one big word.

My thighs had started to tremble and his unwavering teasing had become overstimulating. “Alex,” I pleaded.

His face flashed with recognition and he gently rested his hardness against my entrance. “Relax, hm?” Alex muttered roughly. He used his hands that were secured with a white-knuckle grip on my hips to guide me onto him. He filled me perfectly but the initial stretch sent a gasp from my lips into the air, splitting the heavy silence.

“Perfect” He groaned through gritted teeth as he started to rock his hips deeper, slowly moving them back and forth. I could feel him as he twitched inside me, each brush of his tip against my walls coaxed a wanting sound from my lips. His grip tightened on my hips pulling me down onto him to meet every thrust, he pushed deeper, brushing my sweet spot that sent a harsh jolt of heat through me.

“Alex,” His name was all I could manage. It escaped me like a prayer, soft and trembling. He had this way of pushing me to the brink, only to pull back at the last second. His lips wandered down my neck, deliberate and unhurried, leaving heat in their wake. When his fingers skimmed the curve of my collarbone, I felt the weight of it, like I was something fragile, something sacred. There was no rush, no frantic need. Just him, savoring every second, and me, unraveling beneath his touch.

I felt it tightening within me, an unbearable tension that coiled deeper with every passing second. It was relentless, like a spring wound too tight, each movement, each touch pushing me closer to the edge of something I couldn’t name but desperately craved. My breaths turned shallow, my chest rising and falling in uneven rhythm as his hands gripped me with a mix of certainty and care, as if he knew exactly how far he could push me before I unraveled.

It wasn’t just the physicality of it, it was the way he seemed to draw out every fragment of my will, leaving me completely at his mercy. My fingers dug into his shoulders. The tension spiraled tighter, hotter, until it consumed me completely.

A sound escaped me, half gasp, half plea, as my body betrayed any composure I had tried to keep. My back arched, pressing into him as though I could fuse us together. I was trembling in his lap, every nerve in my body alight, shaking with a release so complete it left me raw and vulnerable. I couldn’t stop the ragged breaths that tore through me, couldn’t hold back the way my fingers clung to him, desperate and unsteady. I felt exposed, seen in a way that was both terrifying and exhilarating. And yet, in that moment, I didn’t care. All that mattered was him; his presence, his hands grounding me, and the way he pulled me back from the brink as if I was the only thing he’d ever held.

"Are you okay, darling?" His voice came low and rough, scraped raw with exertion, matching the labored rhythm of his breathing. I barely had the strength to nod, but I did, my limbs heavy and slow as if they were no longer mine. He shifted beneath me, his movements deliberate but unhurried, almost tender. His hands, warm and slightly calloused, slid to my waist, guiding me off him with a care that felt surprising in its quiet gentleness.

And then I saw it, the way his hand replaced me, confident and practiced, fingers curling around himself with an ease that spoke of habit. The tension in his jaw, the subtle twitch in the muscle near his temple, betrayed his focus. It was mesmerizing, almost hypnotic, the way his body moved in response to his own touch. I had never seen anyone so unguarded, so wholly caught in the grip of sensation.

I didn’t mean to stare, but I couldn’t look away. Something about it felt intimate in a way that surpassed words or actions, a glimpse into a vulnerability he didn’t bother to hide. His head tilted back, exposing the sharp line of his throat as his breathing quickened. The muscles in his abdomen tensed and released, his body arching slightly as if chasing something just out of reach.

When it came, the moment he unraveled, it was as though the air itself had been sucked out of the room. His breath hitched, his movements stilled for a heartbeat, and then he shuddered, the tension in him snapping like a coiled wire. He didn’t hide the sound he made, a raw, guttural exhale that felt more honest than anything he’d said tonight.

I watched him crumble, watched the way his chest rose and fell, his hand slackening as the last shreds of control bled away. He lay there, undone, as spent as I was, his eyes closed and his expression unreadable. A strange mix of awe and curiosity curled in my chest, like I’d just witnessed something private, something meant to stay hidden.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The silence wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t entirely comfortable either. It felt charged, like the room itself hadn’t quite settled. And then his lips quirked, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“You always watch that closely?” he murmured, voice still rough but tinged with something lighter now, something almost teasing.

I blinked, caught off guard, my cheeks warming as I realized how openly I’d been staring. “Only when it’s worth watching,” I shot back, my voice steadier than I felt.

His smile deepened, a flash of teeth now, as though he’d been waiting for exactly that answer.

By the time we’d both showered and cleaned up, the heat between us had softened into something quieter, something that lingered in the space between words. The bathroom had been a quiet exchange of towels and knowing glances, his smirk a little too satisfied, my blush a little too obvious. We didn’t say much, but the unspoken understanding was enough.

Now, we were in the living room, the fire crackling low in the hearth, filling the room with a golden warmth that made the world outside feel a thousand miles away. The snow still whispered against the windows, but it felt less intrusive now, like a soft rhythm playing counterpoint to the calm that had settled over us.

He was already stretched out on the sofa when I joined him, fresh from the shower and wrapped in one of his pullovers. It smelled like him, clean, faintly woody, and grounding in a way I couldn’t quite name. He’d pulled a blanket over himself, leaving just enough space for me to slide in beside him.

“You took your time,” he said, his voice quieter now, softer, as though the stillness of the room demanded it.

I rolled my eyes, settling in beside him, the blanket shifting to cover us both. “Some of us like to be thorough.”

“Mm,” he hummed, wrapping an arm around my shoulders as I leaned into him. His body was warm, solid, and I felt his fingers absently trace circles against my upper arm. It wasn’t intentional, I don’t think, just a natural extension of the closeness between us now.

For a while, neither of us said anything. The fire popped and crackled, and the weight of the day began to pull at me, softening the edges of my thoughts. I felt his chest rise and fall beneath me, steady and rhythmic, like a metronome drawing me closer to sleep.

“You’re being quiet again,” he murmured, his lips close enough to my ear that I felt the words more than heard them.

“Just... tired,” I admitted. “But in a good way.”

“Good,” he said simply, and I felt his hand shift, threading his fingers lightly through mine where they rested against his chest.

It was the kind of moment I’d always thought should feel contrived. But now, with him, it felt effortless. Real. The weight of his arm around me, the heat of his body, the occasional scrape of his stubble against my temple, it all made me feel safe. Like I could let the world fade out entirely and just stay here.

His voice broke through the quiet, low and tinged with a softness I hadn’t heard before. “I like this,” he said.

I tilted my head to look up at him, his face illuminated by the flickering firelight. “What? Me being quiet for once?”

He huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “No. You. Here. With me.”

For a moment, I didn’t know what to say. But then I didn’t need to. I shifted closer, tucking myself more securely against him, my face buried in the crook of his neck.

“I like it too,” I whispered, the words muffled but no less true.

His hand stilled against my arm, resting there like a promise. And as the fire burned low and the storm outside softened into a distant memory, I let my eyes drift shut, lulled by the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear.

a/n: Is it too early to post christmas stuff? Never! I wrote this rather late last night and fell asleep right before the end so if the last bit is quite rushed my sincerest apologies, I also think the start of the smutty part is quite arse because I didn't really know where it was going and then I kind of got into it. Also, I've forgotten if I've mentioned in the fic but Alex is meant to be your father's best friend and I can't remeber if I ever specified, it'd be really odd if I didn't. Anywho, hope you love it, enjoy!!! xxx

#alex turner x reader #alex turner fanfic #alex turner x fem!reader #alex turner x you #arctic monkeys #christmas #smut #black and white #xmas fic #christmas fic #alex turner arctic monkeys #the car era #excuse mistakes

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littlemissthunderstorms · 1 year ago

Text

paris mornings

the car alex turner x reader

synopsis- morning sex with alex in a paris hotel room whilst on tour. no idea why specifically paris, just sounds delightful

———

you squinted when you woke up, for sunlight had trickled through the sheer lace curtains, blinding your groggy eyes.

you closed your eyes again to bask in the feel of the morning sun, how its warmth danced across your skin ever so sweetly, the pearly light shimmering across your ruffled hair. rubbing your watery eyes, you turned over on your side to find alex sat up against the headboard next to you, his reading glasses perched upon his nose as he held a book in his hand. he looked adorable, strands of hair falling over his forehead while the back stuck out in different directions. rather than reading the book, he was looking at you.

“how long have you been watching me for?” you chuckled. the man shrugged. “ever since this book got boring.”

“and how long ago was that?”

“15 minutes or so.”

you rolled your eyes. he grinned, his caramel gaze shimmering with adoration as he pulled you in, pressing sweet kisses along your forehead and temple. “can’t help myself, you look so gorgeous in your sleep.” he put his book down, placing it on the nightstand along with his glasses.

his voice held a delicious morning rasp, accent ever so soothing as he cooed in your ear. you smiled, wrapping your arms around his head while he kissed your neck, leaving a sweet little bite every now and then.

he brought a hand up, warm palm massaging your breast through your thin t-shirt. you gasped a bit, caught off guard. he then rolled you over so he was now under you, his lips still attached to your neck, adorning you in marks.

you fisted his messy hair for balance, face practically falling into the pillow. he shuffled so his head lay on the pillow, grabbing your sides to pull you down, face to face with him. “christ.. good morning to you too.” you giggled.

smiling up at you, he cradled your face, tucking a stray strand behind your ear with the other hand. “sweet girl, you look so pretty…” his nose nudged into your cheek as he pulled you in for another kiss. he held your face, trailing his mouth over the corners of your lips. you blushed as he fully pressed the side of his face against yours, his eyelashes tickling your cheek. he kissed your face where he could reach, his hand entangled in the mess of your hair.

once pulling away, he gazed at you for a bit, heartbeat thumping under yours as his curious hands traveling down your torso and under your shirt, palms warm against your skin. they traveled down your waist, tracing every curve as he maintained eye contact, noses pressed together.

alex hummed a bit when his fingertips found the hem of your underwear, his smirk ever so present as he traced the tiny powder pink bow that adorned the top, thumbs hooking into the sides of the fabric.

you buried your face into his neck as he pulled your panties off, discarding them onto the floor. the sensation of your bare cunt rubbing up against his boxers made you gasp, arousal dripping down your folds. a rather loud whimper escaped your lips when alex teasingly ran a finger through your folds, stroking your clit in tantalizingly slow circles.

he groaned in delight, bringing his gaze to yours as he brought his finger to his mouth, sucking and licking it clean. your lips parted as you watched him, nails digging into his chest. god, you wanted him so bad. the man smirked, bringing his fingers down to rub your clit once more.

“ah, fuck.” you squeezed your eyes shut, face falling onto his chest as you arched your hips up. he held your waist up with one hand, the other finger fucking you ever so slowly. you were a whimpering mess already, drool sticking to his shirt. “that’s a girl, atta girl,” he rasped over and over, groaning at the feeling of your tight walls gripping his fingers.

“such a good fucking girl yeah? just woke up and you’re taking my fingers so well hm?” you moaned and nodded, practically riding his fingers now with the way your hips met him on every thrust.

just as that warm, sweet pressure started to rise in your abdomen, he completely stopped, earning a desperate cry from you as he pulled his fingers out. stopping your complaining, he shoved his two damp fingers into your mouth, leaving you drooling all over them and onto his stomach from where his shirt rode up. “fucking hell,” he groaned, watching how you sucked and licked your own arousal off his fingers.

“you wanna sit on my face baby?” he kneaded your waist eagerly, wisps of hair falling over his lust blown eyes as he gazed up at you. the abruptness of his question caught you off guard but nevertheless you complied, a bit too excited.

you sat up, crawling over so your hips hovered over his face. a blush creeped across your cheeks from the vulnerability of it all, but it went away, for he truly made you feel so beautiful in the way he caressed your thighs, mumbling a quiet “pretty girl.”

you bit your lip, gasping loudly when he pulled your pussy down onto his lips, his tongue immediately melting against your folds. you almost lost your balance, having to grip onto the headboard for support. he was relentless, mouth in contact with your heat for a mere five seconds yet he was already eating you out like a starving man.

his slight stubble scratched the insides of your thighs but it didn’t bother you one bit. if anything, it turned you on even more. he lapped at your clit, tongue darting in your hole as deep as he could reach, eliciting some lusty moans from you. suddenly realizing you were in a hotel, with walls that probably weren’t soundproof, you covered your mouth, muffling those sweet sounds.

“alex alex alex,” you whimpered his name over and over again like your only prayer. he suckled your clit into his mouth, swirling his tongue around and you returned your hand to your mouth once more, drool dripping down your fingers. you gasped, already close from how he’d teased you with his fingers earlier, that same desire starting to pool in your lower stomach once more, if not stronger this time.

desperate for release, you started riding his face, strands of his messy hair brushing against your stomach each time you moved your hips forward. alex moaned into your clit, still eagerly lapping at you, his arms keeping your thighs in place. “fuck fuck fuck,” you gasped, needing both hands to hold onto the headboard now, biting down onto the wood to muffle your yelps.

the boy sped up his movements, drooling and moaning all over your pussy. his nose brushed your clit ever so deliciously as he tongue fucked you, sending the white hot pressure reeling through you, leaving your thighs shaking.

you drooled all over the headboard, crying his name out with your mouth pressed against the wood. you rode his face through your orgasm, panting and groaning. he didn’t cease his movements, still lapping at your release when you came down, quickly moving your hips off of him.

he grabbed you and pulled you in next to him, stroking your hair and kissing your cheeks. you looked at him, his nose and mouth all slick, cheeks and nose tinted a rosy pink. smiling up at him, you cradled his face and pulled him in for a sweet kiss, tasting yourself on his swollen lips.

“you’re too good,” you rasped. alex chuckled, his eyes all soft as he pressed his forehead against yours, rubbing your back soothingly. snaking your hand down his torso, you palmed his painfully hard cock through his boxers. the man hissed, grabbing your hand away, shaking his head.

“what about you? i wanna make you feel good too,” you pouted, batting your eyelashes. he chuckled, twisting a strand of your hair around his calloused fingertip.

“wanna take a shower with me?”

———

10 minutes later and you were pressed up against the steamy ceramic tiles as alex kissed the fucking shit out of you. hot water trickled down his gold chain and onto his chest, making you wish you could envelop him like water. he looked absolutely gorgeous, brown eyes all shimmery and honey-like in the bright light that trickled through the glass panes of the shower door, water droplets sticking to his dark eyelashes, wet hair slicked back, his widows peak prominent.

you gasped, wrapping your arms around his neck as he picked you up and pressed your back against the cold tiles, wrapping your legs around his waist. he attacked your neck with soft bites and kisses, his large palm kneading your breast as the other kept you up against the wall. you were a moaning mess, the running water drowning out your pretty sighs and gasps from the outside world.

his erection presses against your stomach as he kisses you, making you so cock drunk already. just the mere thought of him filling you up, fucking you so deep you’re sore for the next 24 hours turns you on to an impossible degree. eager, you angled your hips so you could rub your folds against his length, coating his dick in your arousal. alex groaned, gripping your thigh tighter. “fuck,” he mumbled, fisting his cock and running it up and down your folds, making you whimper and claw at his shoulders.

he chuckled, his voice deep and thick with desire. he pressed his lips against your cheek. “so eager hm? want daddy to fill you up now don’t you?” you whined, nodding and whispering a desperate “yes please.”

he smirked against your cheek, pressing his nose against the side of your face as he finally pushed into you, his thick cock stretching your tight walls. you grasped at his dark, wet hair, making him groan as he pumped into you so slowly, so sensually, making you feel every vein and ridge.

you cursed under your breath, throwing your head back against the tile and squeezing your eyes shut. you couldn’t see, but alex was smiling at you, his gaze shimmering with adoration. he buried his face in your neck as his hips met yours over and over, your pretty sighs and moans like music to his ears.

with nothing to hold onto besides slippery walls, you clung to your lover, hugging him close with your arms around his neck. “i love you,” he rasped, his tip nudging your g spot with every thrust of his hips. “i love you too,” you panted, nuzzling your face into his neck.

he moaned, damp hair falling over his eyes and sticking to your forehead as he sped up his pace, his hand resting on the wet tile for stability. you were close already, you couldn’t help it. the way he held you, the way you could practically feel him in your lower stomach, the way he cooed sweet nothings in your ear. “m’ gonna cum alex,” you whimpered into his ear.

“fuck,” he stuttered, close himself. “cum with me.” and with that, you let go, your thighs squeezing his waist as you came, clenching around him. you gripped him like a vice as he came inside you, fucking his hot cum deep into you. you hummed in delight, mind fogged with a thick layer of pleasure.

the white noise of the shower stream and the intensity of the orgasm left your mind clear, absolutely blissed out. alex pulled out of you, collapsing against the shower wall and pulling you in so you were curled up in his lap. once you begun to snap out of your dreamy state, you smiled up at alex, kissing his jaw.

the rest of your shower was delightful. you convinced alex to let you wash his hair with your vanilla shampoo and conditioner, soapy suds getting on your cheek when he kissed you. you two discussed the various fancy little teas your hotel provided like you were royalty about to have tea in your grand ‘tea hall’ as alex had called it.

once you were out of the shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist, grabbing the other plush towel and wrapping it around your body all snug. without warning, he picked you up bridal style and dropped you onto the bed. “i’ve got to go prepare the tea for m’lady.” he spoke in a posh accent, making you burst out laughing. alex smiled, scurrying over to the little kitchen area, trying his best to read the french tea titles.

you watched your lover boy in adoration, looking forward to what the rest of the day had in store.

———

i dunno if i like this one or not 😵‍💫 whatever!! hope you guys enjoyed!! 💓

taglist (let me know if you want to be added/removed)- @ultragirrl @inmyownfantasywrld @almluv @raven-ql @ohladymoon @yourstartreatment @missbabyjay @andulina567 @blair-s-world @rentsturner @indierockgirrl @kittyrob0t @averyzversi0n @michelleisheres-blog @kennedy-brooke

#alex turner #alex turner x reader #arctic monkeys #humbug #alex turner fluff #alex turner one shot #suck it and see #tlsp #alex turner smut #the car #the car era

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