#the view out of my bedroom window last night | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

joelscurls · 1 year ago

Text

best kept secret

pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 6.7k

summary: In an attempt to keep your relationship secret, Joel agrees to a blind date set up by his best friend / your father. You don't take it well.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, pre-outbreak, age gap (reader is in her early 20s, Joel is 36), secret relationship, angst, explicit smut, oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, semi-public sex, car sex, creampie, some fluff; lmk if I missed anything!

a/n: so sorry it took me almost a month to post something new ffs - life got busy and my inspiration simultaneously disappeared. but we're back, baby! anyway, dbf!joel owns my ass, so here's my rendition of him. as always, ty to my baby @javisashtray for reading this over for me and helping me through the creative process <3

Joel’s bedroom window offers a perfect view of the sunrise; of shy, pink light creeping over treetops and the roof of your dad’s house across the street.

It’s gorgeous — breathtaking, even — maybe because you can count on one hand the number of times you’ve actually seen the crest of morning. You’re far more privy to late nights and sleeping in as long as you can push it, never been one to be up with the lark, so to speak.

You don’t mind the early wakeup call, though, not when it’s this: Joel’s head tucked between your thighs, his tongue rolling lazily over your clit, your eyes still adjusting to the light as he spreads you open for him.

He’s humming against you, his coarse beard tickling soft skin, thumbs dug into muscle to hold you in place as your back bows reflexively off the mattress. He looks so sweet like this, so eager to please, staring up at you with blown pupils.

“C’mon baby,” he purrs. “Just gimme one before you go.”

They’re the first words he’s said all morning, the first thought that’s necessitated utterance. His voice is hoarse and deep and drips honey-sweet at your core.

Even so, despite how badly you want to — because you always want Joel’s mouth on you — you’re not sure you can.

Because you need to get home before Denise next door leaves for her early shift. Before Susan a few houses down takes her dog out for a walk.

Before the neighborhood wakes and somebody sees you leaving Joel Miller’s house. Or worse, before your dad catches you slipping into the house in yesterday’s clothes, your car in the driveway still cold.

But with another experimental flick of Joel’s tongue, you forget all that, a content little sigh slipping past your parted lips, betraying you.

Just one, you tell yourself, and then you’ll head out.

“Fuck, okay — yeah,” you breathe, twisting your fingers into the roots of his curls.

With your permission, he buries his nose in your mound. Licks at you again — with more purpose, this time. One long, drawn out lap followed by another.

He’s so gentle with you, so careful, caressing your folds with his tongue like they’re made of paper. It’s a dizzying juxtaposition to the way he laid you down last night and fucked you, teeth scraping your neck and cock bruising your cervix.

You’re still sore, your walls tender where he stretched them, but your pussy is drooling nonetheless, surely making a mess of the bedsheets underneath you.

Because you’re insatiable when it comes to Joel.

For the past few weeks, since the first time you’d found yourself in his bed, you’ve craved him. Regardless of how sated he’s left you each and every time, you’ve needed more.

It’s dangerous and stupid and undeniably wrong, having a fling with your dad’s best-friend. But you’re finding it difficult to consider the morality of it all when just his tongue makes you come harder than any other man’s cock ever has.

That tongue, now dipping into your apex, drawing more slick out of you as his thumb finds your swollen clit — It’s overwhelming how good it feels, how good he is at this.

He’s bringing you to the edge languidly, savoring the taste of you, the feel of your silky flesh. It’s like he doesn’t want this to be over, needs to stretch the moment as far as it’ll go, milk every last second before you slip from his grasp.

But it’s going to end soon; it’s inevitable with the way he’s laving your pussy, the crushed velvet of his tongue gliding through your folds so wet and warm. Your orgasm is building, and you’re powerless to stave it off any longer.

“Joel,” you warn, his name a high-pitched whine.

“Shh, I know babygirl; it’s okay.”

Two of his fingers hook at your entrance and push in, pacifying you as his thumb continues working your clit. “I got you. Let go for me, sweetheart.”

The soothe of his voice floods your senses like nitrous; renders your body loose and your head foggy. You come apart with a string of shattered breaths, eyes rolled back and fingers twisted into the duvet.

Joel talks you through it: that’s it, pretty girl; so good for me; always so good for me, and though he sounds so far away, his words are the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.

The world comes back into view slowly. Air settles in your lungs. And you can’t help but laugh at how fucked-out you feel when you peer down at Joel, his gaze already locked on you, expectantly.

“Okay?” he asks, rubbing at your inner thigh.

“Yeah,” you exhale, corners of your lips pulling taut. “More than okay.”

He smiles back at you. Props himself up with hands planted either side of you on the mattress and hovers over your feeble form.

“Good,” he whispers, dipping his head down to kiss your forehead, your nose, your mouth. He licks into you, letting you taste yourself on him — a little sweet, a little bitter — and his lips are so soft that you nearly melt. “Did so good, angel.”

You want nothing more than to spend all day in this bed with him. Return the favor a few times over. Learn what he looks like in the afternoon sun against the backdrop of navy blue sheets. What he tastes like after his coffee rather than before.

“I don’t want to leave,” you admit against his mouth and he frowns, taking one of your hands in his. He presses a kiss to each of your knuckles, one by one, his eyes never straying from yours.

“I don’t want you to either, darlin’. But you can come back tonight, yeah?”

Tonight. Hours away. A whole day between now and then. But it’ll have to do.

“Tonight,” you repeat. Solidify it.

You slink home just as the street lights dim.

The house is quiet when you enter, apart from the incessant ticking of the grandmother clock in the living room. It sets off a throbbing in your head, a dull pang right at the front of your skull that you massage with two fingers as you ascend the stairs.

You move cautiously up each step, wincing at every creak of old wood. It must take minutes to reach the second-floor landing, and then you’re tiptoeing past your father’s room, listening for signs of sleep behind the seal of his door. Sure enough, you catch it, a single, drawn-out snore, loud enough that you let your feet fall, shuffling the rest of the way to the bathroom across the hall.

You immediately crank the shower on, climbing in as soon as you see steam. Lathering your skin with citrus-scented body wash, the smell of sex washes off your body and down the drain.

The warm water soothes your sore muscles; bittersweet relief. You stand there until the stream grows icy, stepping out and toweling yourself off just as you hear the familiar blare of your dad’s alarm on the other side of the wall.

By the time you’ve dressed and made your way downstairs, he’s already in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee with his back to you.

Sink empty, counters borderline sparkling, a coaster tucked under his warm mug — your father is a neat man. He does not take kindly to mess.

God forbid, anybody disrupt the sacred balance of his home; move something and forget to put it back, break something of his that should be kept intact.

“Hey.”

“Hey, kiddo,” he yawns. Turns to face you. “You were up early. Heard the shower going.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you lie.

“Something on your mind?”

Heat blooms across your chest and up your neck. There’s no way he knows — you’ve been far too careful. Still, you’re on edge, and the question lodges itself between your ribs uncomfortably as you frantically search for an answer.

“Uh, n-no,” you stutter. “Just work stuff, I guess.”

He seems to buy it, reaching for the percolator and re-filling his mug with a sigh, “Just gotta give it time. You only just started. Plus, it’s your first job out of school. They don’t expect you to know it all right away.”

It’s good advice, if not misguided. You nod as if you’re absorbing it, taking it straight to heart. As if your mind isn’t preoccupied.

You grab a mug from the cabinet. Fill it with coffee and creamer. Perch yourself at the breakfast table and take a slow, steadying sip.

The caffeine has just about seeped into your bloodstream when-

-there’s a knock at the door.

Your dad shoots you a puzzled look, one which you immediately return. Who could that be, so early on a Wednesday morning?

And when he pushes open the door to reveal none other than Joel, you just about fall out of your chair. Your nails absentmindedly dig into the wood of the table in an attempt to brace yourself.

“Oh, buddy — hey! Come on in,” your dad says, patting him on the back as he steps over the threshold. “Wasn’t expecting you.”

You grasp the handle of your mug like a lifeline. For a fleeting moment, you worry the ceramic will shatter in your hands.

Joel is dressed — blue cotton t-shirt covering his broad back and the deep, red scratches you left there when you dug your nails into skin, your legs hiked over his hips and your face tucked into his chest.

The pair of boxers peeking over the waistband of his jeans are different from the ones you pulled off of him last night, the ones he shimmied back into before you slept cradled in his arms.

He’s a different Joel here, now — your father’s friend, your neighbor — not the man who breaks you down with his tongue or the one who calls you his good girl while you take his entire, throbbing length.

No, this Joel, standing in your kitchen in the presence of your father, has never betrayed him. Hasn’t tasted his friend’s daughter or felt the tight embrace of her wet, warm cunt around his cock. This Joel is reliable, honest, not one to do harm.

You do not desire this Joel, cannot. You must look at him with apathetic eyes. Must keep the boat of your longing at bay.

Easier said than done. It’s as if your desire for him is a feral beast, fed by his touch and left starving in its wake. You feel like you’ve just run a marathon, sweat beading at your collar as you not-so-subtly follow the subconscious flex of his hands, the bunching of fabric over his biceps.

His voice bounces off the backsplash, and your fingers tighten around the handle of your mug.

“Yeah, I uh — I went to make myself coffee and realized I was out. Was hopin’ you might have some to spare?”

He can’t be serious. He came over for coffee? He couldn’t get some on the road?

“I’m afraid she took the last of it,” your dad’s eyes point to you, and you ignore the burn of Joel’s gaze when his follow.

“Ahh,” he says. “‘ts okay. I’ll grab some on my way in.”

His fingers taptaptap on the edge of the countertop, bottom lip tucked between his teeth like there’s something else. Another reason he came here.

And then you spot it — your wallet, dark red leather, poking out the top of Joel’s back pocket.

You must’ve left it in his room before you hurried home. Somewhere amongst the mess of trinkets and trash on his dresser. You half-remember dropping it there last night as he’d kneeled in front of you and peppered kisses up the length of your leg.

Thankfully, your dad is oblivious as ever, giving Joel the perfect opportunity to inconspicuously slip you your wallet when he turns around and crosses the kitchen, placing his empty mug in the sink.

Joel sidesteps once, twice, extending his arm and snapping it back as soon as you have the wallet in your grasp.

Your father clears his throat. Spins to find Joel exactly where he was. “I’ve been thinking,” he starts, wrestling a slice of bread out of the bag and dropping it into the toaster, “I gotta set you up with this co-worker of mine, Deb.”

Joel freezes. You watch as the color drains from his face and his large hand anxiously cards through dark curls. You’re pretty sure you freeze too, breath caught somewhere in your throat until your dad turns to you and you remember to exhale.

“You know Deb, right, honey?” he asks. You mentally flick through the rolodex of your dad’s coworkers.

There’s Leanne, tall redhead, hosted a potluck a few months back at which you tasted the worst mac & cheese you’ve ever had. And Barbara from accounting, who he got into a heated argument with over who makes the best BBQ in the city. You only remember her name because he hadn’t shut up about how wrong her opinion was for a full week.

This woman actually thinks the Smoke Shop has got better ribs than Lou’s. I said to her, Barbara, your taste buds must be absolutely torched.

But Deb? You don’t recall a Deb. Still, you’re pretty sure you hate her, just in hearing her name in this context.

You shake your head, no.

“Well, I guess you haven’t seen her in a while. She was there that day I brought you into the office.”

“When I was ten?” you retort.

“Yeah, I guess it was that long ago, huh?”

You shrug. He returns his attention to Joel. “Anyway, Deb – she’s around your age, just got divorced about a year back, and she’s a real nice woman. I think you two would really hit it off.”

“Is that so?” Joel replies. You swear his voice wavers. If your dad notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“You’ll like her Joel, I promise. I mean, when’s the last time you went out with a nice lady? Not since – what was her name — Jean? And if things were going well with her, I’d hope you’d tell your old friend.” The toaster pops, and he retrieves his slice of toast. Grabs a butter knife from the utensil drawer.

“No, I ain’t seeing Jean,” Joel sighs. Flashes you an apologetic glance as your dad slathers his toast in artificial purple jam, blissfully unaware.

“Well, you gotta get back out there!”

Joel’s gaze rolls to the ceiling. “I don’t know – I’m just not real interested in datin’ right now.”

You exhale, then — a quiet declaration of relief that seems to go unnoticed — unperturbed even when your dad continues his pitch.

I’ve known this woman for years Joel, I’m telling you, the two of you’d be the perfect match; she’s a looker too, real pretty.

Ew. Tuning him out, you check the clock, find that you only have a few minutes before you need to get going. You stand from the table and make your way toward the sink with your now-empty coffee mug in hand.

Would I ever lead you astray? your dad is asking just as you brush past Joel. His hand, idle by his side, catches the fabric of your blouse and you have to fight to ignore the pinprick of electricity it ignites under your skin.

“No, I know,” Joel grumbles. “I trust your judgment ‘n all, ‘ts just-”

“Will you just give her a chance?”

“Jesus; fine.”

The mug slips from your grip, falls into the sink with a clang.

Your dad glares at you, expression softening only when you gesture to the still-intact ceramic lying on its side in the basin.

He’s quickly distracted, then, jotting a series of numbers down onto a scrap of notebook paper, the blue ink pressed in so hard that it’s beginning to bleed through.

“Atta boy,” he drawls, sliding it across the counter. Joel pinches it between two fingers, folds the paper without looking at it and stuffs it into his front pocket.

“Promise you’ll give her a call tonight? I may or may not have already talked you up, and I need to know you’re not gonna make me look bad here.”

Joel has to see you staring at him out of the corner of his eye. He must. If looks could kill, he’d be six feet under already. But he’s refusing to meet your gaze, eyes glued to the cabinet directly in front of him as he nods. “Yeah, I’ll call her tonight,” he says, a small, unconvincing smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

He’s actually agreeing to this?

You need to get out of here before you say something rash.

The anger bubbles in you slowly, then all at once, threatening to boil over as you slip on your shoes and sling your bag over your shoulder.

Marching toward the door, you offer a half-hearted bye, not bothering to look back before you leave.

The office is already milling with people by the time you stroll in, ten minutes late.

The conversation between Joel and your dad is still running laps in your head as you sneak past your boss’s door.

It sticks there through the morning and well into the afternoon, your dad’s words an incessant earworm: I think you two would really hit it off.

The thing is — you can’t blame Joel for saying yes to the setup. Not really. Your situation is complicated, messy, bound to end badly.

Maybe he’d be happier with Deb.

They could take walks together, stroll through the grocery store or down the street hand-in-hand. Throw dinner parties and shamelessly gush about their relationship to their friends. All without fear of being caught doing something wrong.

Because that’s what this is, you and Joel — it’s wrong. Not like you weren’t already well aware of that. Leave it to some woman you’ve never met to rub it in.

The day passes infuriatingly slow.

The pile of emails in your inbox only grows larger by the time you’re due to clock out, stack of reports on your desk barely touched. You wince when your boss stops by your cubicle on her way out, eager for an update.

“Sorry, Linda; a couple of these were more time-consuming than I’d hoped,” you lie. But you can tell she doesn’t buy it, not one bit, her expression souring as you shuffle through papers.

“I need these done by the end of the week, no matter what.”

“Of course,” you mutter, face heating with embarrassment. “I’ll get them done and on your desk by Friday.”

“Thanks.” Her heels are already clacking on tile when you open your mouth to apologize again, your sorry lost to the ether.

You gather your things and scramble to your feet as soon as she’s out of view, not sticking around to watch your computer power down. By the time you get to your car, Joel’s number is already dialed on your phone.

He picks up after two rings.

“Darlin’ — are you okay?”

It’s admittedly uncharacteristic for you to call him so early. You usually wait until after dark, when you’ve both retreated to your respective bedrooms, away from listening ears.

But this can’t wait. It’s been eating at you all day, digging into your work. If you don’t talk to him about it, you’re going to end up unemployed. You don’t bother to ask if he’s still on the job site, around other people. “You’re going on this date.” It’s not a question. More of an accusation.

“Baby,” he sighs. You try your best to ignore his molasses drawl and the way it seeps into your chest.

“Why didn’t you say no?”

“How could I?” he groans. “There’s your dad, askin’ me if I’m seein’ someone, sayin’ he’s already told this lady about me – what am I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know.” Your voice comes out a whine. “Make something up. Tell him you’ve taken a vow of celibacy.”

He laughs, low and breathy on the other end. “Yeah, baby. Think he’d believe that one, f’sure.”

“Fuck,” you huff. “I just— I don’t-“

You want to tell him not to go. To cancel. Fake his own death. Do whatever it takes to get out of this. But you have no right, not really. The two of you aren’t dating. You don’t have any control over what he does or who he sees. And you don’t want that, no. You just want him to choose you.

“I don’t wanna go, darlin’. I really don’t. But if I do this, I think it’ll get him off my back for a while. He won’t have a reason to suspect that I’m foolin’ around with his daughter.”

Fooling around. His phrasing is a metaphorical punch in the gut.

It’s not exactly a lie. You haven’t put a label on this thing, whatever it is. It’s been purely physical: lips slotted to lips, tongues pressed together, swapped sweat and saliva. But hearing it reduced to two words, words with such a casual connotation — as if you haven’t been driven by overwhelming desire — makes your stomach churn.

Joel doesn’t seem to clock it when you go quiet, a cocktail of rage and sorrow sloshing around your insides. “It’s for the best,” he adds, a shot of hard, burning liquor.

“Yeah,” you say defeatedly. Choke back the pathetic tears that creep up your throat. “For the best.”

He ends the call with the excuse of bad cell reception. Promises to talk to you later. You’re not sure that you believe him.

The phrase fooling around curls up in your head, a wet dog, its fur dripping into the crevices of your rattled brain the entire drive home.

You dodge Joel’s calls for the remainder of the week.

There’s no use in talking to him when you have nothing to say, when you know any words you attempt will be overtaken by tears.

Even so, it doesn’t stop him from trying. His number lights up the screen of your phone at least twice a day.

He leaves voicemails that you do not listen to. You can’t. The last thing you need is his syruppy drawl in your ear. You’ll break; you know you will.

So instead, you delete them. Rid yourself of temptation.

But you still ache for him — a devastating truth. You lumber through the days, bones heavy with hurt. Find yourself kept up at night by thoughts of Joel and the infuriatingly soothing timbre of his voice, the intoxicating callous of his fingertips against your soft skin.

It’s a lonely thing, yearning for Joel Miller.

On Friday, your father beams at the dinner table. He’s grinning like a child as he stuffs a forkful of rice into his mouth.

“Joel and Deb’s date is tomorrow,” he says. “Think they’ll really hit it off, don’t you?”

You’re dumbfounded for a long moment — can’t believe that this is your life now: being asked about your thoughts on Joel and the ever-elusive Deb as a couple. When it takes too long for you to answer, your father’s fork stills pointedly on his plate, and you sputter.

“Oh! I mean, I don’t know. Like I said, I don’t remember Deb.” You can’t help your condescending tone. Your dad doesn’t seem to catch it anyway.

“Well,” he says, “I think they’ll be a match. Hoping so, anyway. The man has been such a hermit lately — maybe if he has a lady, he’ll get out more!”

“You sound real excited,” you grumble. Stab four peas on the prongs of your fork.

“It is exciting. I’ve never set anyone up before. And the best part is, the place they’re going to — the Tavern — it’s got rooms you can rent out for wedding receptions. Just imagine if down the line, they got mar-“

“Dad,” you stop him. You think you’ll be physically sick if you let him finish that sentence. “Sorry, I just — I’m really tired, all of a sudden. I think I’m going to head to bed early.”

It’s not a complete lie. You’re emotionally exhausted as a result of the past couple days. Sleep sounds like a much-needed, blissful escape right now.

Your dad doesn’t question you. He just nods. Swipes your plate from in front of you and brings it to the sink along with his.

Of course, you find it impossible to actually drift off that night. Tossing and turning, you battle the glaring urge to get up, slink into the home-office and look up directions to the Tavern.

Not that you’re planning to go there anytime soon — you’re just curious. That’s all.

Around midnight, you give up, pad down the hallway and into the room parallel yours. The computer dials up slowly, and you chew your bottom lip as you wait.

You snatch a piece of paper from the printer and a pen from the #1 Dad mug that sits next to the monitor. Click on the internet icon and type the words into the search bar.

This is definitely a bad idea. Maybe the worst you’ve had in a while.

You jot the address down anyway.

Downtown Austin is buzzing with life.

Patrons spilling out of bars, tourists striding down the street in their brand new Stetsons – it almost distracts you from the task at hand.

At just past seven, you’d told your dad you were going out, meeting a friend for drinks. He’d been a bit taken aback, seeing as you’re not very social these days, but he’d seemed happy. Relieved.

That’s not what you’re doing, of course.

No – in reality, you’re turning into the parking lot attached to the Tavern. It’s packed to the brim with cars, but you still manage to find Joel’s truck, its license plate number burned into the back of your mind after countless mornings of absently reading it as you snuck past.

It’s idle and empty when you inch by, and even though you knew he’d be here, on this date, your heart still sinks. Because maybe a tiny part of you had hoped he’d stand Deb up.

You should leave. It was stupid to come here in the first place. What are you going to do — storm inside and demand that he leave with you?

You consider it for half a second, groaning when you realize how pitiful you are. Defeated, you swing your car into a spot at the back, facing the building, and shift it into park. You hug the steering wheel dejectedly.

From here, you have a straight-shot view of the restaurant’s entrance, a set of double doors at the side of the building. Groups spill out every so often, every pair that emerges causing your back to arch reflexively.

Joel and Deb are probably discussing their interests right now, bonding over a shared connection with your dad. You can vividly picture the smile likely plastered across his face — the same one you’ve elicited with sweet filth whispered in his ear.

And you’re here, sitting in your running car, watching the door. Your pulse thumps obnoxiously loud in your ears.

Minutes pass like molasses, slow and thick. You watch the clock on the car radio obsessively, betting with yourself on what time they’ll leave. After thirty minutes of nothing, you’re convinced that they’re going to close the place out.

But then the door opens again, and you straighten up, immediately met with the sight of Joel and Deb.

She’s talking animatedly, eyes widening every few words, blonde hair wafting around her narrow face. It’s undeniable that she’s stunning, even from far away; possesses the kind of beauty you see on magazine covers in line at the grocery store. The jealousy that pools in your gut burns like acetone in an open wound.

She takes his arm as they walk toward the parking lot, and he lets her, despite the rest of his body appearing strangely rigid.

You wonder if he’ll take her home. Lead her to his truck, help her up the step to the passenger seat and sneak a look at her ass under her dress before shutting the door. If they’ll leave her car in the lot for the night, come back to retrieve it in the morning once he’s helped her forget about her loser ex-husband; let the scent of her perfume seep into the bed sheets to cover up yours.

But he doesn’t lead her to his truck. You watch as they unexpectedly turn down a row of cars, disappearing from your view completely, his arm still locked with hers.

He could still kiss her. Press her against the car. Promise her that he’ll call — and he will, first thing tomorrow. He’s probably just being a real gentleman. Treating her like a woman he might want to marry someday.

Maybe he knows, after just one date, that she’s his soulmate. He’ll buy the ring in a couple weeks. They’ll be engaged in a month’s time, and he’ll say he just couldn’t wait any longer.

She’s the one thing I’ve been missing.

You stew in the agonizing unknown for what feels like hours before Joel materializes once again, backside illuminated by headlights as he strides toward his truck.

And then — he stops. You see the exact moment he notices your car in the parking lot, his eyebrows threading together and his hands splaying over his hips.

He’s staring directly through the windshield. At you.

Fuck.

He takes a few slow steps. Stops in front of the hood. Narrows his eyes and flexes his jaw.

With a deep breath, you unlock the doors. Gesture for him to get in the passenger side.

He immediately rounds the car, prying the door open and climbing inside just as a SUV pulls out the row he and Deb had walked down.

The door slams when he yanks it closed. The sound echoes through the cab of the car.

“You wanna fuckin’ explain what you’re doin’ here?” he snaps. You’re afraid to look him in the eye, embarrassment and now, anger, spooling hot behind your ears.

You know you’re in the wrong. You shouldn’t have followed him. But does he have to be so hostile?

When your gaze finally meets his, he looks — distraught — jaw clenched and lips set in a straight line. His fingers absently dig into denim-covered thighs.

“I don’t know,” you mumble, “I just wanted to see how you were with her.” And it’s the truth; not one you want to be admitting right now, to him, but it’s the truth nonetheless.

“Doesn’t give you the right to spy on me.”

“So what was I supposed to do? Sit at home and mope while the guy I was seeing is on a date with someone else? Oh no, I’m sorry,” you throw your hands up, form air quotes with your fingers, “the guy I was fooling around with.”

This seems to strike a nerve. His jaw twitches, and his fingers still on his lap.

“It wasn’t like that,” he grits

“No? Isn’t that all this was to you: fooling around?”

There’s a beat. Joel sighs.

“No — fuck, no. Of course not.”

His expression softens. A crack in solid stone. “I tried callin’ you,” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” you admit.

He nods. Another beat.

“Did you kiss her?” you ask.

“No.” He says it with intent, with promise, eyes firmly locked on yours now.

Your mouth goes dry.

“No?”

“No,” he repeats. “I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t want to.”

“You don’t want her?”

“No,” he says flatly, his pupils bulging in the lamplight, black bleeding into the brown of his irises. “I don’t want her.”

“Why not?”

He leans forward. His weight presses into the center console and his breath fans your face — warm, tinged with the scent of cheap beer.

“I don’t want her,” he says, voice an octave lower, “because I want you. I thought you knew that?”

The radio drones between the two of you, some classic rock song you think you recognize flitting through the speaker. Your pulse beats staccato in your throat, off tempo.

“You want me?” you ask, a little breathless, and the next words you say are beyond dumb, beyond reckless, but you say them anyway. “Prove it.”

Joel doesn’t hesitate. He closes the slight distance between you and kisses you, hard, his tongue frantically sliding against yours through parted lips.

It’s sloppy, and desperate, and you feel drunk on the taste of him, on longing laced with carnal need. He’s groaning into your mouth, grabbing your head with both hands, burying his fingers in your hair — as if he can’t get close enough, as if he’ll only be satisfied once he’s swallowed you whole. You’re pretty sure you want him to.

Your hands move frantically to his t-shirt, then, bunch into the fabric and pull. You need to feel the skin underneath, need to rove your hands along his bare chest. He accommodates, tugging the shirt by the back of the collar, lips separating from yours ever-so-briefly to bring it over his head and toss it onto the backseat.

And then he’s back on you, licking into your mouth again, eliciting a whimper from you when his hand wraps around the side of your throat, just under your jaw.

Your palms splay across his torso, wander over warm, golden skin. You’ve missed this, god, you’ve missed this — but it’s still not enough. You need to feel more of him. In your mouth, in your hand, in your cunt — you’re not picky. Just need him in whatever way he’ll provide.

“Joel,” you whimper into his mouth, fingers winding around his bicep.

He pulls back. Peers at you through hooded eyes. “What is it, baby?” he asks through labored breaths.

“Need you — please.”

He immediately unbuckles your seatbelt. Lowers his seat back and manhandles you onto his lap. You go easily; slot yourself to him with legs folded on either side of his thighs.

Wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, you grind down into his lap. His cock strains against denim underneath you. He groans when you swivel your hips and brush the heft of it again with your clothed heat.

“You gonna let me fuck you?” he asks into your mouth, his forehead pressed to yours.

Your breath catches.

You know what he’s really asking: are you going to let him fuck you here, in the parking lot of a public establishment, where anybody could see?

But you don’t care. In fact, you’re way past caring, the emptiness of your cunt too painful to ignore any longer. Let them watch him take what’s his.

You nod frantically. “Yes,” you pant. “Please.”

Joel nods too, as if he’s accepting his fate. He’s going to fuck his friend’s daughter in the passenger seat of her car. There’s no way around it — not when you’re begging for it. He’s going to give you what you need.

“Okay,” he soothes, “I got you baby.”

He helps you out of your pants, then; clumsily maneuvers them down and off your legs along with your panties and tosses them aimlessly into the back.

He doesn’t bother to take his jeans off. Lets you unzip them and pop the button open, your nimble fingers making quick work of it. And then you’re pulling his cock out of his boxers, stiff and leaking in your grasp.

You steady yourself with hands on his shoulders just as he begins to pepper placating kisses along your neck. “Go ahead baby,” he whispers into your ear. “Take it; it’s yours.”

His head falls back against the seat as you stroke him a few times and line his cock up with your dripping entrance, his hands clasped around your waist.

You sink down slowly, savoring every inch of him as he burrows in deeper. He’s so thick, stretching you like it’s the first time again, your walls fluttering as they relax around his cock.

“Fuck,” Joel slurs, fingers digging into your skin impatiently when you still, fully seated on him.

“Gotta move baby — please move.”

He’s so fucking deep, though, his cockhead bumping your cervix, and your entire body feels gelatinous atop him. A cloying sort of heat hangs around your head. You swivel your hips weakly, your forehead falling to rest on his with a heavy sigh.

Joel is happy to take control, bucking up into you so hard you see stars. You can’t suppress the string of moans that spill from your mouth, and Joel doesn’t seem to mind. He’s just as loud, anyway, his broken sounds bleeding into yours, bouncing off glass and leather.

Neither of you can muster an actual word, though, not with him rutting up into you, sheathing himself in your pussy over and over again. He’s relentlessly hitting that spot — the one that has you practically clinging to him for dear life.

It’s approaching too quickly; he’s going to make you come.

One of your hands flies to the roof of the car in an attempt to brace yourself, flat palm pressing into it so hard you worry it’ll pop.

Joel takes the opportunity to drag you down in his lap, spearing you on his cock, and the sudden change in angle makes you cry out.

“Oh f— ahh, oh my—“

“That’s it,” he coos, “you got it, babygirl.”

His words tip you over the edge, your entire body locking up as you gush around him. You’re wetting his lap, slick splattering his thighs, and he loves it, his fervid moan telling you so.

His movements begin to falter then, hips stuttering underneath you as he chases his own high.

“Cmon, baby,” you goad, “please fill me up.”

He grunts when he spills inside, his face nestling in your chest, heaving as he works through it and begins to come down. You don’t move, not that Joel would let you, still holding you on his lap like he’s afraid to let you go.

You nuzzle into his embrace as his cock softens inside you.

You stay like that for a while, probably too long given that anybody could easily look into the car and see you straddling him. You don’t have the energy to care.

Eventually, you lift your head from its spot on Joel’s chest. Look up at him with bleary eyes.

“Joel,” you say.

He meets your gaze, face shiny with sweat and his hair a mess. He looks gorgeous like this, you think. The way only you get to see him.

“Yeah?” He grazes along your arm with featherlight fingers. His touch raises goosebumps on your skin.

“Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“About wanting me.” In truth, you’re not sure you want the answer. But you need to know, definitively, if Joel is yours. You’re done sharing him.

“Oh, baby,” he drawls. “Of course I do. You’re all I want. Do you want me?”

And it’s a stupid question. He has to know that. You’re nodding before he can even finish it. “Yes,” you breathe. “I want you, Joel”

“Then it’s settled. It’s me and you. No more…interlopers.”

You giggle. Reluctantly separate yourself from his body and re-dress. You settle back into the driver’s seat with achy legs.

You’ve never felt more content than you do in this moment.

Still, you’ll have to hide — won’t be able to share the news of your new relationship with friends or coworkers, your dad — and neither will Joel.

You don’t care much, not as long as he’s yours, but you need to be sure he feels the same.

“Joel,” you stop him as he opens the passenger-side door to get out. He stills with one leg swung out the door.

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“Are you sure you don’t mind…being a secret? Don’t mind keeping me a secret?”

He looks at you like you have two heads.

He pulls his leg back into the car. Shuts the door and leans over the console again.

Taking your chin between his fingers, he forces your gaze. Makes sure you’re listening.

“I want you — doesn’t matter who knows or doesn’t know. Long as you’re mine.”

Your chest tightens, and your heart squeezes inside your ribcage.

“I’m yours?”

He smiles. Presses a chaste kiss between your eyes, on the tip of your nose, on your lips. The same way he did the other morning.

It all feels somehow sweeter, now.

“Yeah, angel. You’re mine. My girl.”

end notes: tysm for reading! please consider commenting and/or reblogging if you enjoyed! I've been toying with the idea of turning this into a series so lmk if that's something you'd be interested in hehe.

Also, I hopped on the bandwagon and made a sideblog for notifs! I'll be doing away with a taglist from here on out, so follow @joelscurlsupdates & turn on notifications if you wanna be notified when I post a new fic :-)

tag list: @janaispunk @amanitacowboy @fhatbhabie @frannyzooey @lola8888673

#joel x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #dbf!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #tlou fic #the last of us fanfiction

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hausofwoo · 8 months ago

Text

handy | choi san

pairing: choi san x afab reader

word count: 5K

summary: you move into a shitty apartment with a long list of maintenance issues. your landlord puts off sending someone to fix them, only making your frustrations grow. that is, until the maintenance man finally arrives and you discover that he's hot... and you find yourself making excuses for him to keep coming back.

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, maintenance man!san, tenant!reader, reader is kind of a perv lol, unprotected piv (wrap it up!), oral (f receiving), san is a tease, fingering, hair pulling (m receiving), cumplay, kitchen counter sex!!!, he kinda throws u around hehehe, choking, dacryphilia, use of a petname (baby), lmk if i forgot anything!

author's note: umm.... hahaha um...... so this is lowkey based on a recent experience i had of my maintenance man coming to fix some shit in my apt and he strangely had SO much rizz and i was like wait a minute.... this could be a great fic idea LMAO thank u to @hausofmingi for being my beta-reader ily always ♡

when you signed your lease at your new apartment, you didn’t expect to sign up for a list of problems.

you desperately needed a new place to live, and with the measly budget you had for rent, all that was left available were slim pickings. so when you finally found a small 1 bedroom apartment that wasn’t double your desired price, you jumped at the opportunity. you applied for the place on the spot and were approved the same day. you didn’t really think anything of it, but when you finally got settled in and actually gave a good look at your newfound home… you were in for a fucking nightmare.

for starters, the window unit in the bedroom wouldn’t blow cool air. it’s right in the heat of the summer, so coming home after a long day only to sweat all night long was not cutting it for you. you put in a maintenance request through your tenant portal app the first day when you realized this.

another annoyance was the dishwasher. one of your biggest must-haves was to have an actual working one. maybe you were asking a bit much with your budget, but with the amount that you work, it was imperative. you were thrilled to see the dishwasher during the viewing, only to find a few days worth of dirty dishes later, that said dishwasher was rusty and moldy. literally unusable. so you put in another maintenance request.

last one, and maybe now you’re just getting picky because you’re pissed, but your shower water pressure sucked, and by the time you would finish a shower, the water would take forever to drain. another request sent.

all these maintenance requests and not a single one fixed. you started to wonder if the tenant portal app even worked, so you called your landlord, only to grapple with them on finding a time for them to fix it while you’re still home. you might want these things fixed asap, but you’re not willing to let a stranger in your space when you’re not there.

you started to fucking lose it. a few weeks with no cold air, shitty water pressure, and dishes piling up your sink, and not one thing being done about it. you call your landlord one more time, urging them to finally fix these issues, arguing that they should’ve been fixed before you even moved in. and with that last push, they finally caved and did their fucking job. they said they’re sending someone there first thing tomorrow.

so when you finally wake up and go about your day-off routine, you’re constantly watching the clock. when they said “first thing tomorrow,” did they mean “first thing tomorrow once the maintenance man feels like it”? because it’s already pushing noon and you’re getting impatient. it’s obnoxious; you’re not able to run any errands (let alone actually go out and enjoy your day off) and you’re just waiting around for some dude to actually do the job you’ve been asking for for weeks.

just as you find yourself dialing the landlord’s number, you hear a knock at your door. fucking FINALLY. you jump off your couch, mind spewing profanities out of frustration. you walk towards the door, ready to give this stupid maintenance man a piece of your mind. you swing open the door, and your heart drops.

the maintenance man stands before you, with a tight black tank that hugged his muscular build and dirty worn jeans. he has a tool belt strapped to his (surprisingly small?) waist and a heavy tool box gripped in his hand. he’s a little dirty, and his chest is shiny with sweat due to the humid outside air. his rugged exterior is a huge juxtaposition to his face, however, with sharp yet kind eyes and a sweet smile.

“you need some maintenance done?” he asks.

“oh, uh, yes,” you stumble, suddenly at a loss for words. “come on in.” you hold the door open, allowing him to walk through to your living room.

“so you’re having issues with your water pressure?” he says, looking around the apartment.

“yeah, that and a few other things,” you reply. “but the biggest thing is the window unit in my room. it doesn’t blow any cold air.”

“i can fix that,” he looks at you with a grin. “which one’s the bedroom?”

you walk him to your room, thanking god he can’t see the blush forming on your face. he walks in and places his tool box down, promptly inspecting the window unit.

“i’ll just let you do your thing,” you say, twiddling your thumbs. “i’ll be in the living room if you need me.”

he nods, and you go back to sit on your couch. you mindlessly scroll through your phone, all while spiraling in your head. did your landlord hire this guy from a fucking modeling agency? he has the build for handyman work, that is certain. however, his face is what’s really getting to you. he could be on the cover of vogue and you wouldn’t bat an eye. but there he is, working on a shitty a/c window unit in your room.

you suddenly become hyper aware of the appearance of your bedroom. what does he think about your decor? is he cringing at the plushies sat on your bed? what if you left a pair of underwear out? oh my god, did you leave your nightstand drawer open, with your vibrator out for the whole world to see?

“it looks like you’ll need a whole new window unit,” he says from your room, interrupting your swarming thoughts. “this one doesn’t even have heat, and you’ll need that for winter.”

“oh, yeah,” you say, getting up and standing in your bedroom doorway. “how long will it take to get a new one? this heat has been brutal.”

“i should be able to bring one tomorrow, if you’re available,” he says, turning back to look at you as he closes up the tool box.

“i’m available,” you say all too quick. dude. be cool. “i mean, yeah, i can try to get off work a little earlier, maybe at like 3?”

“works for me,” he smiles, standing up. “can i get your number?”

you can’t hide your blush this time, nodding at the insinuation, but knowing it was just to iron out arrangements. “here,” you say, opening your phone messages so he can send himself a text.

he types away and hands your phone back. “you need a new dishwasher too, right?”

“i do,” you confirm.

“i can try and get you one by tomorrow too,” he says. “i’m off duty by like 5, so hopefully i’ll have enough time. now the shower?”

you nod and lead him to your bathroom. he examines the shower head, and you watch your cat approach him from behind.

“oh my god,” he says, startled at your cat rubbing against his leg. “this little dude came out of nowhere!” he reaches down to pet him, all while he’s purring up a storm.

“wow, he really likes you,” you stand shocked. your cat is always so standoffish to strangers, usually hiding under your bed or couch. but he’s rubbing against your maintenance man’s legs like he’s best friends with him.

“cats tend to really like me, i don’t know why,” he chuckles, scratching at your cat’s head. “what’s his name?”

“leo,” you say.

“like the zodiac sign?” he looks up at you while still petting him.

“yeah, i wanted to name him after his own sign but he’s a cancer, soooo…” you trail off, awkwardly fiddling with your hands.

“i’m a cancer!” he lights up, looking back down at leo. “no wonder we get along.”

you smile, and then realize you’re staring again. “i’ll go back in here so you can work.”

after distracting yourself with your phone again for a bit, you look up and see the man starting to walk out the bathroom doorway, already with his things together.

“okay, it should be good now, but let me know tomorrow if there’s any issues,” he says. you nod to him and lead him to the front door. you open the door and he walks out, but turns to you before he leaves. “so, i’ll see you tomorrow?” he has a smile on his face, with a hint of something behind it that you can’t quite read.

“yeah, tomorrow,” you say.

after locking the door behind him, you slump onto the couch with a big sigh. that was somehow the most nerve-wracking thing you’ve ever experienced. you remember he texted himself on your phone, so you open your messages and see the unsaved number.

sent 12:28 pm this is san :)

you can feel heat rising to your cheeks. even a stupid smiley face in a text has got you kicking your feet. you text him back, telling him your name and a quick thank you.

dear lord. this man didn’t even do anything, but he will be the death of you.

you come home early the next day, even earlier than you mentioned. partly because you wanted to clean up your place a bit, but the other part to mentally prepare yourself for a hot man in your apartment again. you clean up your room, tidying up so it looks a tad better than it did the day prior. once you’re done, you find yourself fixing up your makeup, realizing you’re putting way too much effort into seeing a fucking handyman fix your a/c.

are you really doing this? intentionally getting dolled up for this?? haha never! right….?

you hear a knock at your door and jump up. you check yourself in the mirror one last time, fixing the gloss on your lips. you go to open the door to reveal san, standing in front of you again with a familiar sweet smile on his face. you smile back too eagerly.

“i got your window unit!” he says, nodding down to the large box in his hands.

“oh, come in, that must be heavy!” you say, ushering him into your living room.

“mind if i go in your room?” he asks.

“of course, please,” you say, opening your bedroom door and letting him set the box down. you attempt to subtly watch his arms flex as he drops it. oh my god he is so hot.

you retreat to the living room as usual, allowing him to work in peace. you work on some things on your laptop to pass the time, but the thought of this man working on your a/c, muscles protruding, sweat glistening… it’s all too much of a distraction. you decide to put your ear buds in, trying to drown out your own perverse thoughts. you finally are able to hone in on your work, catching up on the things you couldn’t finish during your shift today since you left early.

you don’t realize that san finished installing the window unit until you feel a hand on your shoulder, making you jump.

“oh!” you stammer, pulling an ear bud out. “sorry, what’s up?”

san has a smile creeping on his face. “my bad, i didn’t mean to scare you. i just wanted to let you know i finished putting in the unit.”

“that’s great, thank you so much,” you say, standing up. “did you get the dishwasher today too?”

“yeah i did,” he says, but then he checks his phone for the time. you realize it’s about to hit 5 pm, and he said he’s off by that time.

“you’re almost off, i forgot,” you say apologetically. “you can just come back another day?”

he checks his phone again, contemplating. “well… i mean i already have it in my truck, so i don’t mind working a little bit over my time.”

“you really don’t have to, san,” you plead.

“it’s okay,” he says. “i’ll be right back with it!”

he exits your apartment, giving you a moment to kick yourself. having a dishwasher that works would be so great right now, but you feel guilty for having him work past his time. another part of you wants him to go anyway, if it meant he would come back again.

you hear a loud noise outside your front door, so you open it to see san with the new dishwasher on a dolly. you hold the door open for him, allowing him to enter your apartment and bee-line to the kitchen. he props the dolly down to drop the box.

“i should be able to finish this in about an hour, is that okay?” he asks, already unboxing it.

“as long as you’re okay with working this late,” you shrug.

“i don’t mind at all,” he smiles, looking up at you.

“okay, i’ll just be in here,” you point behind you, gesturing to the living room.

“alright, dishwasher is done,” san says, walking into the living room with a broken down empty box in one hand and dolly in the other.

“thank you so much,” you smile.

“is there anything else you need then?” he inquires, quirking up an eyebrow.

a moment of silence washes over the room momentarily, with you wracking your brain trying to find a reason for him to stay longer. but you push that away, knowing he’s been working way too long past his scheduled time.

“no, i think that will do it,” you sigh, unintentionally sounding disappointed.

“well,” he mumbles, toying with the box in his hand. “well you have my number, so if you need anything, feel free to shoot me a text.”

you walk him to the door, thanking him. he stands out in the hallway, you looking at him out your front door.

“really though,” he insists. “if you need anything.” with one last sweet smile, he leaves.

so what does he mean by that? “anything.” maybe you’re delusional for thinking there’s a hidden meaning behind that statement. as in, you can text him if you want him to fuck your brains out, “anything?” definitely not, but your mind wanders at the thought of it; that he’d drop everything and book it back to your apartment, heaving and sweaty, ready to take what’s his. you’re actually fucking crazy.

and to make yourself even crazier, the next few days you find yourself itching to get another reason to have him come back. you check your kitchen sink’s water pressure, it’s fine. you test out the stove for the first time and it cooked your food perfectly, no gas smell. then you find something. one of your kitchen drawers won’t close completely. it’s something small, but enough to put in a maintenance request. for the first time since you moved in, you feel grateful you live in a shitty apartment.

you swing the door open, happy to see the cute grin san always gives you the moment he sees you.

“sooo… a drawer, huh?” he quips with a hint of a teasing tone.

“y-yeah, i tried to fix it but i don’t know what i’m doing wrong,” you defend, rubbing the back of your neck.

“i can fix that,” he says, passing into the kitchen, tool box in hand. you’re ready to retreat to your living room as usual, but san stops you. “you know, you don’t have to wait around in your living room for me to finish. i like having company.”

“oh,” you mumble, turning around. “i thought you might want privacy while you work.”

“no, it’s okay,” he says, opening his tool box to grab a few items. “if you wanted, you can hang around. i like learning about the tenants i’m working for.”

“okay,” you murmur. you open a kitchen cabinet to grab two mugs. “do you want some tea?”

“i would love some tea,” he says.

you put the kettle on the stove, heating up some water. you chat with san about work, how many units he has to visit in a day, about the interesting tenants he meets, how long he’s been doing this. once the kettle starts whistling, san is already finished fixing the drawer, placing it back into it’s assigned slot. you can’t help but feel disappointed that your time with him is almost up. you put the tea bags in the mugs of hot water, offering one to san.

“i know you’re done, but if you still want it,” you say, and he accepts the drink with a grin. you both sit at your kitchen table, continuing to chat. your cat leo enters the kitchen, going to straight to san’s legs to rub against him.

“there’s my boy,” san coos, scratching leo’s head.

“i still can’t get over how much he likes you,” you laugh. “he’s never this friendly, he’s only like this with me.”

“he seems friendly to me,” san says. “maybe he just has good taste in people.”

you chuckle, wondering in the back of your mind if he meant that about you too.

san checks his phone, realizing the time. he sets down his tea and stands. “i should probably get out of here, there’s another tenant waiting for me.”

“i didn’t mean to keep you—”

“no no,” san interrupts. “it’s okay. i really liked this. not a lot of people are this welcoming.”

“of course,” you reply, standing up with him. “i—i really liked this too.”

san smiles, biting a bit at his lip. you look at each other for a moment, feeling an intriguing tension in the air. he finally shakes head, going to grab his things to go. you walk him to your front door. you say another thank you, about to close the door.

“like i said,” he repeats, leaning against the door frame. “anything.”

you hadn’t seen san in over a week. it was driving you mad. you became addicted to his energy, to his warm greeting at your front door, to the lingering gazes you shared. you didn’t have any reason to see him again, and you needed to find another. so you did something you’re not entirely proud of… something that an actual crazy person would do. you loosened a bolt on a pipe under your kitchen sink, allowing water to trickle the smallest amount in the lower cabinet.

listen. you know it’s bizarre at this point, but you had to see him again. it’s not like anything would happen; he’d probably just fix it up, have another nice chat with you, and be on his way. is it so bad that you meddled with your sink just to see him?

when san arrives, he has that all-knowing grin on his face the moment you open the door.

“the sink now, hm?” he asks.

“yeah,” you chuckle anxiously. “the sink.”

he goes to the kitchen and inspects the pipes under the sink. you lean against the counter, hoping to god he doesn’t notice that the pipe didn’t magically get loose.

“ah i see,” he laughs to himself. “it’s just a loose bolt. easy fix.” he tightens it with his tools, quickly finishing.

“oh, haha,” you say, nerves bubbling in your stomach. “i guess i could’ve done that.”

“you know, it’s so interesting…” he trails off, standing up to face you, running a hand through his hair.

“what?” you ask.

“i’ve never had to do so much maintenance work for one tenant before,” he says, sly grin across his face. fuck. do you think he knows?

“and i swear, that bolt kinda looked like it was loosened by a wrench…” he trails off again, stepping closer to you. HE KNOWS.

“n-no, i would never,” you defend, feeling backed against the counter.

your eyes are locked on san, wandering over his built frame, over his sharp features. he’s inching closer and closer, and you feel your breath hitch. he catches your trailing eyes as if to ask for permission, and leans in to kiss you.

finally, the thing you’ve been wanting so bad from him, to feel his lips against yours. he cups your cheek with one hand, letting you melt into his touch. your lips part to allow his tongue to slide in, deepening the kiss with fervor. his form pushes against yours, pressing you against the kitchen counter. his hands begin to wander, grazing from the side of your face down to your waist. he holds you in a tight grip, pulling your hips forward to meet his. you can feel him harden in his jeans as he lets out a groan against your lips.

“you did this on purpose, hm?” san says, separating from your lips. he lifts you up and places you to sit on the kitchen counter in one swift motion. he kneels to the floor, grabbing at the waist of your pants. “just to see me?”

you nod emphatically, watching as he pulls down your pants and underwear. the cold air hits your core and you try to close your legs, but san pushes them back open to admire you. putting your legs over his shoulders, he runs his fingers against your folds, eyes drinking in the sight of you. you shudder at the feeling, knowing all too well that he’s already got you soaked.

“you like seeing me like this?” he whispers, looking up at you. “i bet you imagined me like this, between your legs.” when his fingertips graze over your clit, your body lets out a shake, and he knows he found what he wanted.

he attaches his mouth to your core and places a firm hold on your outer thighs. licking stripes up to your clit, each stroke of his tongue feels like heaven. he dips down to your hole, dragging your slick upwards. he moans at the taste of you, devouring at you with more passion. your hands grasp at his hair, relishing the stimulation.

he tugs his head back, looking as pussy-drunk as ever. “i imagined you like this too,” he moans, lips still hovering over you. you unintentionally tug at his hair, yearning for his mouth back on you. “i wanted you so bad the moment i saw you.”

he releases a hand off your thigh and snakes it back between your legs, teasing at your hole as he goes back to circle his tongue around your clit. he looks up at you as he slides his middle finger in, watching you crumble at the feeling. once he can tell you’re comfortable, he slides in another, slowly starting to pump them into you. you whimper at the feeling, walls contracting around his fingers.

your moans are uncontrollable, and he matches them, letting the vibrations enhance the stimulation. he curls his fingers into you, hitting that perfect spot. he can feel your core clenching more erratically, causing him to pick up the pace, but maintaining a steady rhythm. his tongue flicks at your clit just right, making you squeeze your eyes shut and tighten the grip on his hair.

“s-san,” you let out. “i’m gonna cum.”

he detaches from you briefly, still finger fucking you. “cum for me, baby, i want to taste you.” he immediately latches back onto you, eating you like his life depends on it.

you feel a wave of pleasure wash over your body, feeling like chills. you’re shaking now, unable to control the sheer amount of bliss your body is experiencing. you moan out to san, coming undone on his tongue. he continues to work at you, allowing you to ride out the entirety of your orgasm.

he finally disconnects from you, pulling out his fingers coated in your essence. he licks them clean, looking up at you with the same look of desire. he stands up, promptly placing his lips on yours in a passionate kiss. you can taste yourself on his fucked-out lips, and it makes it that much hotter. you can hear him fumbling with his belt, and your hands reach down to help. you place your palm over his bulge, it twitching at the contact.

san separates from you, letting out a heavy sigh. he pulls himself out from his underwear, rubbing the tip at your spent pussy. he looks down and lets a string of his spit hit his throbbing cock, spreading it around the expanse of it with his hand. he angles himself into you, and slowly starts pushing in. you gasp at the size, him stretching you out much more than his fingers initially did. he takes it slow, acknowledging the whimpers leaving your lips.

once he’s fully inside, he groans. “god, you’re so fucking tight.”

he watches himself enter you as he starts rolling his hips into you. he places a hand on the back of your neck, pushing you towards him for a messy kiss. he starts to pick up his pace, earning a sharp hiss on his lips in between kisses.

“you feel so good,” he murmurs to you. “i knew you would feel good.”

you moan in response, completely unable to form any words. all you know is that the stretch of his cock is deliciously painful, and the sweet kisses he’s peppering over your neck gives you goosebumps all over. you can’t even believe this is happening right now, that your fantasy of fucking your maintenance man is coming true, and it feels even better than you imagined.

“you wanted this so bad,” san teases, continuing to piston into you. “for me to fuck you like this. you probably imagined it, touching yourself the moment i left.”

and he’s right, you found yourself needy and horny after every visit he made. you couldn’t stop yourself from grabbing your vibrator and pretending he was the one fucking you, not yourself. but the feeling of the real thing was much different, much more euphoric. to have his chest heaving in front of you, sweat beading on his temple, desperate energy emanating from his body, saying i want to have all of you.

suddenly, he lifts you from the kitchen counter, holding your thighs firmly with his cock still in you. something about the fact that he can completely hold you up, still bouncing you on him even… you feel like his little play toy that he’s throwing around. he takes you to the bedroom, dropping you down on your bed and landing on top of you.

he wastes no time in sliding back into you, desperate to continue feeling your tight walls around him. his body is hovering over yours, your legs tangled as he thrusts into you. he pecks around your neck, hand ghosting over your throat as if seeking permission. you place your hand over his, allowing him to choke you until you’re lost in a euphoric haze.

his thrusts become more intense and forceful, each stroke sending chills down your spine as his length reaches deeper inside you. you swear you’re shaking the whole bed, the headboard repeatedly slamming against the wall. you’re so clouded by pleasure that you barely even notice he’s fucking you so hard that he’s pushing a dent into the wall from your bed frame.

“i can fix that,” san whispers with a smile, not even bothering to stop.

you let out a chuckle, then press a soft kiss to his lips. his hips begin to slow, as though he’s really taking his time to melt into you, to feel every part of you. he then lifts up to hit a new angle inside you, gripping your waist and slamming your hips into his with powerful, deliberate motions. you move your hand to your clit, feeling your walls tighten around his throbbing cock. your vision blurs, tears starting to well up in your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure.

“you gonna cum for me?” san asks, sensing the irregular pulsing of your core. you nod up at him, eyebrows furrowed and lip caught between your teeth. “cum on my cock, baby, let me feel you.”

your orgasm builds to a peak and then cascades over you, sending you into a state of pure bliss. san is still fucking into you, extending your orgasm while still chasing his own. it’s not until his hips begin to falter that you feel him shoot ropes of his cum into you, filling you completely. his moans echo yours, his hips gradually slowing until he finally comes to a stop.

he pulls out of you, falling next to you on the bed. the room is filled with the sound of your heavy breathing as it gradually returns to a normal pace. you look at each other, smiling with a shared understanding of the unexpected moment you just experienced. he wraps his arm around you, drawing your head to his chest to where you can hear his heartbeat.

“sooo…” you chuckle softly, pointing at the dent in your wall. “you’re gonna fix that, right?”

san grins, pulling you closer. “i mean, i can, but then i’d have no reason to come back tomorrow.”

“now that i think of it,” you say, chuckling. “i think there’s probably a few more things that could be fixed…”

“anything you need,” he says. “anything.”

a/n: guys this was so fun to write, i hope u enjoyed it too!! something about san lately oml... plz leave feeback as i'm new to writing, and reblog to support me! it motivates me to write more!

✰taglist✰ @skz1-4-3 @oddracha @luvbit3z @tunafishyfishylike @seomisaho

add me to the taglist!

#choi san #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez smut #san #san smut #san fic #san x reader #ateez oneshot #ateez fic

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peachsukii · 5 months ago

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✮ content. pro-hero!bakugo x pro-hero fem!reader. late 20 somethings + married w/ a toddler. family fluff while he’s away on a mission. slightly suggestive (aka Katsuki’s down bad for his wife). ;)

“Momma!” Your daughter shouts from the living room, the little pitter patters of her feet echoing down the hall as she sprints toward you with glee. “Phone’s ringing, pick it up, please!”

Her small hands shove the phone against your thigh, bouncing up and down in place with excitement. You tuck the folded towel in your arms into the closet and bend down to her level. When you take the phone from her, your husband’s name —💥Katsuki 👑💕— is displayed across the screen, accompanied by a photo of the three of you on your last beach trip. Clicking the “Accept” button, the visual of Katsuki in his hero costume appears, his attention focused on removing his gloves while waiting for you to answer.

“Hey handsome,” you greet, heart swelling when you catch him smirk at the compliment. “Someone’s been waiting for you to call.”

“An’ where’s my little girl at?”

Your daughter hops into view, jumping up and down with her hands waving frantically.

“Hi Daddy!” She giggles, dancing back and forth on her tip toes. “Did ya beat up the bad guys today?”

Katsuki laughs heartily, finally sitting on the bed in his hotel room. “Sure did. I’m keepin’ you and Momma safe. How’s school goin’?”

“S’good! I got a gold star today for my drawing.”

“Yeah? Proud of you, sweetheart. Can’t wait for ya to show me when I come home.”

The time on your phone reads 7:30PM, and like clockwork, your daughter begins to stretch, yawning the same way Katsuki does when he’s exhausted after a long shift.

“Why don’t you get ready for bed, sweetie?” You suggest while rubbing her back. “I know you’re tired.”

“Okaaay,” she pouts, trying to fight off her sudden sleepiness. “G’night Daddy. I miss you!”

“Only two more days. Love an’ miss you, Princess. Sweet dreams.”

With a wave and a smile, she trots off toward her bedroom to change into her PJs, leaving you with a few minutes to talk with Katsuki before tucking her into bed. You walk back into your joint bedroom, leaving the door cracked as you lay on the bed. Katsuki does the same, shifting the camera to follow his movements as he stretches out across the sheets.

“Goddamn, I miss you somethin’ fierce,” he admits, sighing into his forearm as it crosses his face to hide the soft dusting of pink on his cheeks. “You put a spell on me or some shit?”

“Not this time,” you chuckle, feet swaying in the air behind you like a giddy schoolgirl. “I miss you, too. How was your day?”

“S’alright, nothin’ crazy. Can’t wait’ta be back home, sleepin’ alone sucks.”

“Yeah, the bed is cold without you.”

There’s a short lull in the conversation before it shifts into something more sensually charged. Katsuki tends to get clingier the longer he’s stationed away from home — all the telltale signs of it are reflecting in his eyes through the camera, sparkling under the dim moonlight from his hotel room window.

“Good thing I know how to keep ya warm,” he purrs with a wink, the mischievous grin stretched over his lips telling you how he’s truly feeling. “S’how you got knocked up the first time.”

There it is, that familiar warmth flooding into your belly and heat spreading from your ears to your toes.

“Kaaats!” you whine, shyly tucking your head into your chest. “Shut up.”

“Don’t get shy on me now, Peaches,” he teases, laughing quietly at your bashfulness. “S’cute how easy ya are to rile up.”

You wave him off and roll your eyes lovingly. “I should go put her to bed. Are you gonna be up in an hour?”

His brow furrows curiously. “Prob’ly. Why?”

“Gives me time to get her settled, put away the laundry and finish the dishes. Up for a little late night date?”

Oh, Katsuki knows exactly what that means. Why was the thought of watching you doing chores around the house and taking care of your daughter making him suddenly break out in a sweat?

“Earth to Katsuki?” You call again and recollect his attention. “If you’re too tired—”

“Never too tired for you, baby. Go do what ya gotta do, I’ll be waitin’.”

“Okay, I love you!” You sweetly sing as you roll off the bed. “Get comfy, bye babe.”

“Love you too, Peach. See ya.”

The “End Call” screen flashes briefly in front of Katsuki’s eyes, the darkness of the hotel room returning once the screen dims into nothingness. He mumbles a breathless ‘fuck’ into the air before jumping off the bed to stomp toward the bathroom.

Only you can leave him hanging by a thread on simple promises, even when he’s miles away. And damn, did he love it.

#bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo fluff #bakugou fluff #soft bakugou #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha fluff #bnha fluff #cw children #☆ — scrapbooking #☆ — bkg.notes #bakugo being turned on by regular domestic acts will never not be hot #he’s so enamored and in love that every little thing you do sends sparks through his body #taking care of your child and him? he’s a puddle on the floor #anyways :) he loves FaceTiming the fam when he’s out on missions!

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cxrrodedcoffin · 8 months ago

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Dead of Night - Spencer Reid

Likes are always appreciated but reblogs and feedback keep artists going!

Summary: Spencer stumbles upon a secret dark fantasy of reader’s and does everything he can to be the one to fulfill it.

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: This is the first time I’ve ever written anything with themes like this so feedback is definitely appreciated. Not proofread cuz this is long and I’m tired ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I fully understand if the themes included in this are not for some of my regular readers and I encourage you to scroll if you’re not comfortable with any of the following warnings.

TW: perv!spencer, dom!spencer, mask kink, knife play, blood, dubcon, kind of cnc but it’s emphasized repeatedly that reader initiates and is in control of what is taking place, unprotected sex, penetration, creampie, degradation (slut), pet names (doll, angel) religious imagery, gun mention, std testing mention, fem + afab reader, soulmate talk

Rating: R, 18+

——

You knew it was wrong, you’d seen just how easily Penelope was able to track someone down through their “anonymous” profile on websites just like this one, but your desires got the better of you, and you just had to try.

Your profile was nondescript, your age, a vague physical description of yourself, and a link to a meticulously detailed account of your wildest fantasies. After weeks of back and forth, chatting with a few equally nondescript profiles, you found the one that you really clicked with, the stranger you decided you’d let sneak into your window and do whatever he wanted with you. After an std panel and the agreement of your safe word, you decided to fully commit, sending this complete stranger your address and logging off for the night.

Even though you knew this was a stupid idea, you weren’t a complete idiot, you had plans in case anything went south, including placing your handgun in your bedside table for easy access if you, god-forbid, had to use it. Placing yourself in a high-risk situation was the whole point, and you couldn’t wait to see how it turned out.

You spent the remainder of your afternoon preparing, doing every grooming ritual you’d usually do before a date, but this time felt somehow more important. You didn’t even know what this guy looked like, and yet, you wanted to be the picture of beauty for him. It was silly, but you always pictured yourself the prettiest you’d ever been when you daydreamed about being ravaged by a stranger. You wanted to be completely irresistible in every way, and you were doing everything in your power to accomplish that.

As the sun finally set, your excitement levels began to rise, anxiously awaiting the arrival of your masked suitor. You opened the bedroom window just above your fire escape, the cool night air drawing goosebumps over your exposed skin, only a thin lace slip and matching panties adorning your frame. You crawled into bed, double checking your bedside drawer before pulling your comforter over your body, eagerly drifting off to sleep.

—

Spencer had been keeping a secret, one that he did not want you to know about, until today. A few weeks ago he’d stayed late to finish up some paperwork for the last case you’d been on, when his pen ran out of ink just as he was about to sign off the last document. He walked to your empty desk, reaching across it to grab a pen from the cup next to your monitor, when his arm brushed against your mouse, causing your display to light up.

He knew he shouldn’t snoop, but curiosity got the best of him, scanning through the title of each tab open on your browser until a certain website caught his eye. He went against his better judgment and clicked the tab, his jaw dropping upon viewing your profile, and with it, the graphic description of your sexual proclivities. His brain immediately cemented that information in his mind’s eye, fit to torture him for days after the encounter.

He couldn’t stop picturing himself fulfilling all of those desires for you, having to excuse himself to the bathroom several times a day to take care of the bulge in his pants just from being around you. He eventually bit the bullet, creating his own profile on the website and messaging you as an “anonymous” suitor, beyond pleased when the two of you hit it off. He felt bad not telling you, but this was a means to an end that would surely leave you both satisfied, and the devious part of him won out this time.

He did everything you asked, getting tested so he could fuck you raw, he was apprehensive about the risks of a potential pregnancy even without the fear of std transmission, but the way you begged so beautifully in your messages for him to creampie you was more than enough to convince him. The moment he got your message with your address, he went out and purchased a mask to conceal his identity just like you asked, and anxiously waited for nightfall.

—

The graze of fabric against your skin gently woke you as your bedding was pulled down off of your body, your mind clouded from the deep sleep you’d been sunk in seconds before. You rolled onto your back, starting to lift your head until a large hand clamped over your mouth, forcing your head back down onto your pillow. Your eyes widened, darting around the room before settling on the masked figure on top of you. You tried to scream against his palm, but the sound simply reverberated back against you, muffled by his strong grip.

His free hand made quick work of cutting off your slip, the thin fabric splitting easily against the blade of the knife in his grasp. You struggled underneath him, weakly pushing at his strong shoulders, feigning defense as the heartbeat in your cunt grew stronger by the second. You couldn’t believe this was actually happening, the adrenaline coursing through your veins making you feel almost high.

“Don’t fight it.” He hushed, holding the knife flush against your neck. You slowed your movements, settling for shifting your legs against his. He removed his hand from your mouth, freeing it up to gather your hands to pin them above your head as well as give you an opportunity to use your safe-word if need be.

He trailed the knife down your body, your chest heaving with shaky breaths as the blade scratched a small cut between your breasts, warm droplets of blood forming in it’s wake. He followed the curve of your body, leaving shallow kitten scratches until he reached your hip, using the tip of the knife to carve a heart into your skin. The sting of each movement set every nerve ending in your body on fire, the wetness pooling between your thighs increasing by the second.

He pressed his thumb to the wound, smearing the blood down to the waistband of your panties, using the digit to pull the fabric before letting it snap back against your skin. You gasped, your labored breaths growing more desperate as he brought the blade to slice the fabric, exposing your embarrassingly wet cunt.

“Look at how wet you are, you love this, don’t you?” The condescension in his tone felt almost half-hearted, and the more of his voice you heard, the more familiar he started to sound, but you couldn’t quite place why. You looked down at him, watching his every move as you tried to place him.

He set the knife on the bed, using his now free hand to yank his pants down, his hard cock slapping against his thigh. Your eyes went wide at his size, looking just long and thick enough to have you a little worried about being able to take him raw, but the thought of being stretched to your limits sent another wave of arousal straight to your core and helped quell that fear ever so slightly.

“If you don’t want this, just say the word.” His words dripped from his lips like honey, sickly sweet, and in that moment you had never felt more sure of your desire for anything in your life.

—

Spencer wondered if the way he was feeling was akin to that of religious psychosis, so engulfed in your very being that he ought to worship at your altar for the rest of his life, fit to carry out any act you requested of him.

His brain kept your description of your fantasy scrolling in the back of his mind, catering to everything you had written to a T in hopes of making this a night you’d never forget. The only thing at the forefront of his thoughts, however, was the intoxicating sounds you made every time he gripped or marked your skin. Each note sought to pull his focus, threatening his plan as it tempted him to lose control all together. He couldn’t do that, his conscience too righteous in its goal to keep you as pleased as possible.

He took his time, marking you just the way you’d requested, his cock twitching with every whimper that flowed out of you until he finally reached your core, the lace of your underwear glistening under the moonlight cast through your open window from how wet you were. He wanted to sink fully into you without a care in the world, but he had to make sure this was absolutely what you wanted. He was, to your knowledge, a stranger after all, and the last thing he wanted was for you to be uncomfortable in any way.

—

You frantically shook your head in acknowledgment, spreading your legs wider for him, ready for this tall stranger to finally be inside of you. Your eagerness spurred him on, a surge of confidence washing over him as he let go of your wrists, his large hands gripping your hips and pulling you further down the bed. He lifted your legs so your knees rested atop his shoulders, his rough movements making you gasp.

He brought his cock to your core, running the shaft through your slick folds before slapping the head against your clit a few times, the repeated hits making your hips jolt ever so slightly. He hummed low in the back of his throat, lining up his tip with your entrance before thrusting forward, bottoming out inside of you in one fell swoop.

“You’re so tight.” He grunted, one hand holding an iron grip on your thigh to hold your leg up, the other digging fingerprints into your hip. You gasped once more at the intrusion, feeling more full than ever before as he set a steady but unrelenting pace. Your gasp turned to crying moans, brows furrowed in awe at the way his cock stretched you so deliciously, prominent veins rubbing against the contours of your sensitive walls.

Each snap of his hips had his balls slapping against your ass, the lude sound mixing with his grunts and the wet squelching where your bodies met in the most intimate way, the decibel level in the room reaching an all-time high.

You bit your lip, trying to quiet yourself to at least somewhat lower the noise and not disturb your sleeping neighbors, but the absence of your desperate moans was not lost on him. His pace slowed, his left hand firmly gripping your chin to force you to look at his masked face. His eyes met yours through the thin slit in the dark fabric.

You knew those eyes, those big, soft brown irises, so comforting, yet darker than you recognized, pupils far more blown than you’d ever seen before. You knew him, but there was no way. Your mind must have been playing tricks on you, because there was no way that Spencer Reid would do anything this perverse, let alone with you.

“Louder, slut.” He squeezed your cheeks, forcing your lower lip out from under your bite.

“I-I’m not a slut.” You mumbled, barely above a whisper.

“Only a slut would leave her bedroom window open, practically begging a stranger to come in and fuck her.” This was far too brazen to be Spencer, you thought, a level of blunt confidence you’d never in a million years expect from him.

“I-I didn’t mean to.” You stuttered over your words, raising your voice in an attempt to half heartedly defend your actions.

“Well then, you should really be more careful next time.” He laughed, releasing his grip on your face before playfully slapping your cheek and increasing the pace of his thrusts, his now free hand finding your clit. His calloused thumb drew broad strokes over and over and over against your sensitive bundle of nerves, a knot tightening in your stomach as you drew closer and closer to your release. You turned your head, trying to bury your face in the pillow as you writhed underneath him, your body frantically looking for relief.

“Oh don’t be shy doll, let me see how much you’re enjoying this.” His tone was almost sing-song, clearly enjoying this just as much as you were. He pressed his body down closer to yours, almost pinning your thighs against your stomach, the change in angle forcing a borderline scream from your lungs, crying out strangled ‘uh’s with every stroke. You looked him in the eye, desperate to know if this deity above you could possibly be your nerdy coworker, and every interaction you’d had with him flashed before your eyes.

Every fleeting glance he took at your chest or your ass, the way he lingered behind you in the field, feeling his presence even when you couldn’t see him. You couldn’t think of a time he wasn’t around a corner when you turned it, always near whenever you needed his help on a case. You always secretly hoped he'd make a move sooner or later, but you never thought it would be anything like this.

He was omnipotent, knowing exactly how to make you feel things you’d never felt before, pushing your body to levels of pleasure you never thought possible. You thought you might disappear, your brain short-circuiting as you tried to make sense of everything, finally understanding why the French refer to orgasms as the little death.

Your walls fluttered around him, the sounds leaving you reduced to pathetic whimpers as your vocal chords grew strained.

“That’s it, cum on my cock, angel.” He groaned, his thrusts growing increasingly desperate. The pet name surprised you, but if he saw you as an angel, how fitting considering how godlike he felt to you in that moment. You could tell he was close, and if your orgasm was what would get him to cum inside you, then so be it. Your eyes glazed over, your hands clawing at his back as you chanted ‘fuck, fuck, fuck’ like a mantra, wave after wave of euphoria washing over every nerve in your body.

—

Spencer was a man possessed, his primal urges leaving his mind completely uninhibited, so lost in your body that he thought he might need divine intervention to ever leave you.

He didn’t quite understand where the sudden dominant urge coursing through his veins had come from, but he didn’t care to dwell too much on the thought, content to fuck you into the mattress until you screamed his name.

He knew that wouldn’t happen, but he secretly hoped you’d realize who he was, wishing for nothing more than for you to want him for him. His heart felt like it may burst at the thought, the desire to be wanted as he was ever-lingering inside of it, that being the very motivation behind his lingering tendencies from the start.

As your heat contracted around him, he felt an embrace like no other, hoping the myth of twin flames to be true. If this connection wasn’t proof of it, how could he rationally explain anything? He knew the scientific reasoning behind it, but it didn’t feel like enough, such a finite explanation for a feeling so sempiternal.

He wondered if you felt the same way too, so lost in his every desire that he let himself dive into the delusion, using the pet name he wished he could call you every day for eternity.

Your chants and cries as you came set him free, his hips stuttering as he finally filled your aching cunt to the brim with his seed. He hovered above you, catching his breath, watching your expression soften as you rode out your orgasm, practically glowing.

When he finally snapped out of his lust-fueled haze, he fully remembered his role, pulling out of you and quickly scrambling to stand, fixing his pants and underwear. You had agreed to his departure after, and as badly as he wanted to hold you until you drifted off to sleep, he respected your wishes more than his wants. He walked to the window, lifting his leg to climb out of it when you cleared your throat, drawing his attention. He turned, seeing you sit up, hazy smile on your face.

“Thank you.” You sighed, and he gave a nod of acknowledgement before slipping out of the window and into the night.

—

When you awoke, you had a couple minutes of doubt in which you thought the events of the night before had all been a dream, until you moved to get out of bed and winced at sting from the shallow marks adorning your body and the dull ache between your legs. You smiled to yourself, before looking at your phone and realizing what time it was. You were going to be late, and panic set in when you realized you’d have to go to work in the makeup you’d fallen asleep in last night.

You rushed out the door, checking your makeup in a compact mirror in your car, wiping a small bit of smudged mascara off of your brow bone before walking into work.

“Fun night?” Derek quipped as you walked through the doors, always the first to poke fun at your perceived escapades.

“You could say that.” You laughed, setting your handbag on your desk before joining the team to walk to the conference room.

“What happened?” Penelope asked, almost panicked, taking your arm in her hand and pointing to the only visible cut on your body.

“Oh that’s nothing, I just scraped my arm on my car door.” You reassured, smiling at her. As much as you loved your best friend, she didn’t need to know the truth of your little white lie.

“You should really be more careful next time.” Spencer’s voice came from behind you, his hand gently resting on your hip before squeezing right where the heart shaped cut from the night before was inlaid in your skin. His words reverberated in the space between your ears as your brain processed what he’d just said.

Realization hit you like a semi truck, your lips parting in shock. Your suspicions had been correct, and you almost wanted to turn around and kiss then interrogate him right there. You couldn’t do that though, having a full work day in front of both of you.

Now you just had to figure out a time and place to broach the subject with him without completely humiliating yourself.

——

part 2 can be found here

tag list: @pleasantwitchgarden @lover-of-books-and-tea

DM me or send me an ask if you’d like to be added to my general or spencer reid taglist :)

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nezuswritingdesk · 2 months ago

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good mornings with you (sylus x f!reader)

tags: reader is not MC , slightly proofread established relationship, 2nd POV, fluff, soft and domestic sylus , loverboy sylus, he might not be an early bird but he WILL wake up early and make breakfast for you!, possibly ooc sylus (idk this is my first time writing him lol), use of nicknames (sweetie, baby, love, thank you to everyone who suggested nicknames on my other acc fr), HES WEARING NOTHING BUT A PINK APRON (based on this)

wc: 481 words

a/n: the people (polls) have spoken. The first fic i'll be writing here is a sylus fic, because ofc its sylus and that they are correct. I hope you get to enjoy this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it. Also thank you to the people here who suggested pet names for sylus they made my day and helped me out.

taglist (feel free to comment if you want to be added!) : @deusfoundry

Sylus wasn’t a morning person.

The daytime disagrees with his lifestyles and choice of work. He sleeps before sunrise, and wakes up when the sun has reached its highest or was setting. He couldn’t care less, the curtains were too thick in his bedroom to notice the changes anyways.

But here he was. Making breakfast in your kitchen at six in the morning.

Never in a billion years would he find himself awake this early, the sun shining down on him with a gentle gaze that softens his sharp features. He hums an off-key tune from a song you made him listen to last night, the pink apron you used was on his body, covering the front and little to nothing at the back except for a nicely done bow.

He cooks up a few eggs, grabbing some vegetables to add to the omelette before it finishes cooking. He grabs remaining left-overs from last night’s dinner, heating it up once the eggs are cooked. He continues to hum as the vegetables sizzled with the egg, creating a peaceful and quiet morning.

An absolute rarity in his life, prior to meeting you.

He looks up, staring at the window that poured light inside the kitchen space. He smiles, realizing you were there, leaning against the kitchen divider. There was a pleasant and satisfied smile on your face, your hand propped up against the wall.

“Enjoying the view, sweetie?” He asks, his voice still hoarse and husky from the events of the night before. You laugh, staring at him from behind, your eyes darting downwards as you let out a satisfied hum.

“Of course you’re enjoying the view. Come here.”

You went over to him, closing the distance between you both, your arms wrapping around his waist. He laughs, lowering his lips to kiss your forehead before cupping your cheeks and placing a kiss on your lips. You closed your eyes and stood up on your toes, trying to reach his lips. Sylus chuckles beneath his breath, seeing your efforts.

“What are you making, love?” You ask, glancing at the frying pan and the plate with an omelette on top.

“Breakfast.” He replies, heating up the leftovers he saw. You smiled at the pan, hearing the oil sizzle. Your hand wrapped around his hip.

“ For both of us? This early?” You mused, leaning against his hip as you stared down at the pan, nuzzling your face against the side of his chest, “This isn’t you, baby.”

“And waking up this early isn’t like me either,” He laughs, a rich and deep tone escaping his lips like running wine. He kisses the side of your head once more, “But for you? I’d do anything. Even if it means waking up at six in the morning to make you breakfast.”

“Now be a good sweetheart for me and set the table. The food’s almost done.”

#love and deepspace #nezuswriting #nezusdesk #love and deepspace sylus #lnds #lnds sylus #sylus x reader #x reader #lnds x reader #lnds x you #lads x reader #lads x you #love and deepspace x reader #qin che #qin che x reader

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really-fanny-longbottom · 9 months ago

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only in my dreams [part two]

summary: you turned off your emotions so you could protect your heart but at what price?

warnings: angst, mentions of unrequited love, curse words, blood and death.

pairings: azriel x reader

words: 8.9k

morning was here.

you left emerie's house when the first rays of sunlight passed through the half-open bedroom window.

your friends were still sound asleep when you pushed away their arms that tried to offer you some comfort during the night and got out of bed.

you had no intention in waiting for them to wake up and having to talk about what had happened just a few hours ago.

so you quickly changed your clothes and placed the backpack you had brought with you over your left shoulder.

you didn't bother looking back when you left the room.

the front door closed behind you, and you found yourself facing the sun that was almost reaching its usual place in the blue sky.

sunrise has always been your favorite part of the day.

not only for the view, but also for its meaning — every time the sun rises, a new day comes with it, a new day that seems like a new blank page giving you a new opportunity to do your best and let go of the past on the day that was left behind.

besides, being a healer meant that your day always started early, so why not start it with the best view ever?

when you lived with your aunt madja, you would go to the bridge over the sidra and sit on the wall and when you moved to the house of the wind you would go to your balcony and do the same.

you would close your eyes and tilt your head slightly upwards and immediately relax with the sunlight passing through your body and warming not only your skin but also your soul.

you don't know if it was because you're an empath but you've always felt a connection with the sun, as if you could feel its energy, it was as if the sun itself had emotions and was trying to communicate with you.

you loved how it made you feel.

but that was before.

now, standing in the doorway of emerie's house, as you looked at it, you didn't know what to do.

you stayed there for a few moments waiting for something to happen — for you to feel something.

but nothing came.

with a shrug of your shoulders, you turned your back on what used to be your greatest comfort and step by step you began to move away from it and the house.

as you walked, you didn't notice that the camp was starting to wake up, just as you didn't notice the sunlight fading away.

you winnowed as soon as you reached the edge of the camp.

•••

twenty minutes later, you were in velaris about to arrive at your aunt's house to take a much-needed shower.

as you walked up the street, you didn't pay attention to any of the citizens who were opening their establishments and getting ready for a new day of work.

some of them tried to get your attention to greet you just like they always did. You would look at them with your eyes full of color and wave greetings with a warm smile, sometimes you would even stop and talk to some of them.

but not anymore.

now, you simply walked with an expression of indifference without removing your empty eyes from the path ahead.

you only stopped when an all too familiar voice filled the air around you — the voice of the last person you wanted to see right now. "y/n."

you could already see your aunt's house from here, and you were so close to getting there.

slowly, you turned around and faced the person who had stopped you from reaching your destination.

it was the wife of the patient you lost yesterday with one of their sons by her side, both wearing mourning clothes.

"i'm sorry to bother you, but i saw you passing by, and i just wanted to thank you again for what you did for my husband yesterday." she told you with a weak voice, her eyes still red from the tears.

with a fake smile on your features, you ran a hand through your hair before telling her, "i was just doing my job. after all, that's what i'm paid for."

surprised by your reaction, the female lost her words and after a few seconds to compose herself, she cleared her throat and said "well, the funeral is this afternoon at three o'clock if you want to join us."

you laughed, and without a care in the world, you replied, "no, thank you. i have better things to do but have fun."

and with that, you turned your back on them and walked up the rest of the street before removing the small key from your backpack and entering your aunt's house.

the wife and son remained in their places, trying to understand what had just happened.

•••

after placing your backpack on the sofa, you started heading to the stairs towards the bathroom, but before you could, an irritated voice stopped you in your tracks. "where have you been?"

"oh, for cauldron's sake," you muttered and turned to find madja with her arms crossed and an angry face.

"i was with the valkyries. i spent the night at emerie's." you told her with a tone of annoyance.

"i'm aware of that. the high lord had the decency to send me a letter unlike you," madja scolded before continuing, her voice turning softer. "he also told me what happened about azriel."

when she opened her mouth to speak again, you raised a hand and stopped her from it, "okay, auntie, it's too early for this. i'm going to take a shower and i'll see you at the clinic. okay. cool."

you used both hands to give the cool sign, but before you could step on the stairs, madja called you again. "wait."

"ugh, you gotta be kidding me," you whispered low enough for her not to hear.

you saw your aunt grab a piece of parchment and hand it to you. "this arrived for you a few minutes ago."

when you unrolled it, you recognized nesta's handwriting.

she was asking where you were.

without hesitation, you crumpled the paper and threw it into the middle of the fireplace where it instantly began to burn.

"anything else?"

when your aunt didn't speak, you accepted her silence as an answer and started climbing the stairs by jumping two steps at a time.

the bathroom door closed seconds later, and madja, who didn't know what animal had bitten you to react like that, put a hand to her forehead before muttering to herself, "what was that?"

•••

the clinic was very busy like almost every day but you never complained.

unlike other people, you could happily say that you liked your work. being a healer has always been a rewarding job.

there was nothing else you enjoyed as much as helping your patients. heal them, make them feel safe, and heard. make them feel important.

your favorite days were the days you helped a new life enter this world. seeing those beings so small and innocent was the best miracle of life.

but of course, like all jobs, yours also had a bad side.

seeing your patients sick and knowing that in some cases there is nothing you can do to help, seeing them leave this life and the family they leave behind.

there were patients who had left such an impact on you that from time to time, they appeared in your dreams.

sometimes, you felt guilty at their memory because you felt like you could have done more, but most of the time, their memories reminded you to do better for others.

but none of that mattered to you anymore. now you simply limited yourself to doing your job so you could get paid.

you were finishing bandaging the knee of a boy who had tripped while running.

the boy had become a regular patient of yours, always finding a way to hurt himself, whether it is running or reading a book.

it was a simple wound that didn't require the use of your powers, so you cleaned, disinfected, and put a bandage on it.

your right hand held his injured leg while the other tried to wrap the bandage, when you finished and lowered his leg, you noticed that he had a bruise in the exact place where your hand had been just seconds before.

with your focus on the wound, you hadn't even noticed the bruise. you went behind the counter and grabbed a bottle of ointment that you had made last weekend and handed it to the boy.

"take this," you pointed to the bruise that had several shades of purple on his leg, "twice a day, one in the morning and one at night. if it starts to hurt, put some ice on it."

following the movement of your hand, the boy saw the bruise for the first time with a confused face "oh, i didn't even know I had that," he grabbed the bottle and with a toothless smile, he started heading towards the door but not without shouting first "thank you, y/n! i'll see you next week."

"whatever" you let out a sigh and walked towards your chair to take a break but before you could your aunt directed you to the next patient.

it was an old male who mixed up the plants in his garden and ended up using the wrong plant as a seasoning for his food.

he was slightly pale, nauseous, and had stomach pain.

"you mistaken a poisonous plant for a seasoning plant?" you asked as you examined him, judgment written all over your face and voice.

"yes, i know what it looks like," he explained between short breaths, "but it was an honest mistake."

"it was a stupid mistake." you answered him without hesitation.

you were too busy finishing your exam to notice madja's shocked expression, who had stopped what she was doing at the sound of your words.

"y/n!" she approached and scolded you. "you can't talk to patients like that."

"what? it's true. it's not my fault he's an idiot." you told her with frightening indifference.

at your response, your aunt put her hands to her head with a whisper of "by the mother," escaping between her lips.

she got closer to the patient and placed one hand on his arm before bringing the other to her chest and apologizing to him for your behavior.

the male, on the other hand, said, "it's okay, she happens to be right."

you scoffed "of course i am," you turned to your aunt and with an air of irritation you asked her "now, are you going to let me work or haven't you finished disturbing me yet?"

shocked by your words, madja didn't know how to react or what to say, so she limited herself to taking two steps back, giving you space to continue working.

she looked at you, trying to understand what was happening to you, because this type of behavior was not normal.

you had never spoken to her like that — you had never spoken to anyone like that.

you were sweet, attentive, and very polite. this was not the niece she knew.

she couldn't help but think that maybe this situation with azriel and elain was affecting more than you had let on.

plus, she was well acquainted with how much your emotions could overwhelm you.

choking sounds broke the trance she was in, and her mind refocused on what was in front of her.

you had started the healing process in the patient, and your hand hovered over his belly in order to try to eliminate the poison, but something was wrong.

because the patient was now paler and bleeding from his mouth.

madja saw you stop and look at her. "i think the poison is stronger than i thought." you kept looking at her, no doubt waiting for her to react, but when she didn't, you couldn't help the sarcastic comment that escaped you. "are you waiting for him to die? because my arms are starting to get numb."

that was enough to make her move and begin her own examination of the patient.

she frowned. did you really just say that?

"are you sure you gave me the correct name of the plant you used in your food?" you asked the patient while using a cloth to clean the blood, irritation in your voice.

he simply nodded his head

"maybe the plant you used was in contact with another. are there any other poisonous plants in your garden?"

the male shook his head, his breathing more rapid.

your brain started working quickly trying to see all the possibilities and it was then that you turned to your aunt and found yourself saying "maybe it's because he ate a long time ago and that allowed the poison to spread. i mean, who knows how long this idiot ingested a poisonous plant?"

madja didn't answer you and due to her silence, you removed your hands from the patient and met her gaze with your empty eyes and a bored expression in your features "okay, so you got this right? i'm hungry, so i'm going to take a break." and with a look of disgust, you walked away.

the old female's heart was beating very fast. she couldn't believe what she had just witnessed.

not just your words but also your actions.

maybe she had seen wrong.

maybe what she saw and made her freeze before you caught her attention hadn't happened.

maybe she just imagined it.

because it couldn't be.

could it?

•••

several days passed, and you continued to act strangely since the day you returned from illyria.

madja was observing you now more than ever, and little by little, she began to assimilate all the differences that you now demonstrated, but the one that worried her the most until now?

the reason she made you work behind the counter taking care of patient charts so you wouldn't have to interact with them medically.

you weren't the niece she knew and loved so much, and she began to think that something else must have happened — something you weren't sharing with her.

and if madja was honest with herself, you were starting to scare her.

your behavior continued to become increasingly strange — how you interacted with patients, the way you spoke to her, your 'new clothes', and your nights out.

not to mention what you had said to the family of the patient you lost a week ago.

madja met them in the market when she went shopping for groceries, and when the widow told her what you had said them, she didn't want to believe that such insensitivity had come from you.

she thought about asking the inner circle if they knew anything but after meeting the high lady on the street as she left her studio the other day, she informed madja that it had been almost a week and a half since any of them had seen or spoken to you.

feyre also explained that both she and the others sent several letters to you, and none returned with a response.

not even nesta knew where you were these days.

it was with this new information that madja's heart began to tighten more and more with worry. her sleep no longer came as it used to, and the feeling of calm that used to hover over her was gone.

madja was well aware of your relationship with the older archeron sister, that she was not just a best friend but a sister.

so, why wouldn't you be talking to her? with none of them?

•••

rita's was full as always — full of life, light, and music.

people danced while others drank and gamble. laughter, singing, and shouts of euphoria filled the air of the familiar bar.

this has always been one of your favorite places to spend time with your family, not to mention that rita herself was a long-time friend.

good memories were formed on the dance floor with feyre and nesta, on the karaoke stage with mor, several shot battles with cassian that often ended with the two of you on the floor and too many card games with rhys and azriel where you took all their money.

whenever these memories surfaced, they warmed your heart and made you feel lucky to have these people by your side.

now, you felt nothing besides an emptiness in your heart, but at least your heart was whole again, and that's what mattered.

you ordered your third drink of the night, and the moment you took the first sip, a deep voice was heard from behind you.

"can i join you, my lady?"

when you turned to find the owner of the mysterious voice, you couldn't hide the surprise on your face which you quickly replaced with a mischievous smile "well, well, well, look what the wind brought."

your colorless eyes meet golden ones that belong to a male with fiery hair and a smirk that matched yours, displayed on his lips.

you let your eyes roam the male in front of you as you analyzed him. he wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the top two buttons open, brown pants where his muscles were visible and black boots.

"eris vanserra," you held out your hand for him to shake. instead, he grabbed it and placed a kiss on your knuckles.

"lady y/n," he greeted, his eyes always fixed on yours.

you let out a light chuckle as you ran your eyes over the male again as he took the seat next to you. "well, you look delicious."

"i could say the same about you," he replied with a chuckle, and now it was his turn to look at your form.

you wore a simple black strapless dress that fit your curves perfectly with a slit in the skirt on your left thigh and a pair of silver high heels that matched your jewelry.

eris ordered his drink, and after you hit each other's glasses with a small 'cheers', you asked him the question you wanted since your eyes had landed on him.

"you are far from home. tell me, what brings you to velaris?" you took a sip of your drink before continuing. "does rhysand even know you're here?"

following your movements, eris took a sip from his own glass before putting it down, "i'm here because of him, actually. i had a meeting with him and his inner circle a few hours ago."

"oh, and i thought you had come here just to see me," you said as you signaled the bartender to refill your glass.

"that can be arranged," the heir replied as he took another sip without ever taking his eyes off yours.

you cleared your throat after an unexpected heat warmed your cheeks. "i'm surprised he let you come here."

eris chucked and turned around in his chair and faced you before resting one of his arms on the back of your chair. "i'm surprised i didn't see you at the meeting with the others. did you lose the invitation?"

you let out a laugh as you tilted your head back slightly before meeting those golden eyes again. "nope, i just didn't want to go. those meetings bore me to death."

eris's laughter rivaled yours and after losing yourself to the sound for a few seconds, you regained composure and found yourself saying to him "so, if the meeting ended a few hours ago, what are you still doing here?"

the male stared at you for a few seconds and you noticed his smile weakened a little at your question but he was quick to hide it before answering you "maybe i wanted to see you before i left."

"you mean you want to avoid beron."

shock crossed the male's features, and when he opened his mouth to respond, you were quick to raise a hand towards him and stop him. "i'm an empath. reading people is kinda my thing, remember?"

"right, sometimes i forget that," he picked up his glass again and turned it around a few times in his hand and this time he kept his eyes on the drink as he asked, "so, does that mean you've read me before?" "

"yes."

"and what did you read?"

"that this whole act of you being a bad, terrible and heartless male is just that — an act."

his eyes finally meet yours, and you proceed. "that you care. that you love your mother and lucien more than you let on. and that you love your court and can't wait to get it out of beron's claws."

"hm," eris leaned against the counter, and with a look of indifference on his face, he told you, "that's. . .accurate."

a smile returned to your lips. your skills never failed you, at least not when it came to reading people.

"do you want to know what else i read?"

eris gestured with his hand for you to continue, coming closer to the edge of your chair, you leaned slightly towards him before telling him "that you, eris vanserra," you placed a finger on his chest "you will be a better high lord than that terrible male ever was."

eris swallowed the lump in his throat as you picked up your glass again and raised it towards him, making the heir follow your movement.

with a clink of glasses, you both drained your drinks, and a mischievous smile returned to your lips. "so, are you spending your night here?"

eris laughed, and as he placed some money on the counter for the night's drinks, he matched your smile, and with amusement in his voice, he asked you, "why? is that an invitation?"

you added the same tone of amusement to your voice when you answered, "maybe."

•••

you thanked the Mother that your aunt was working the night shift at the clinic and would only return in the morning. otherwise, this would be embarrassing — for her, at least.

you walked up the stairs towards your bedroom with the male behind you.

upon entering your bedroom, eris looked around, noticing that it was small but cozy.

a bed was placed in the corner with a wide window behind it, a bookshelf full of books on healing and romance novels was at the foot of the bed with an puff in front of it against the wall.

some paintings decorated the walls, several faelights lit up the small bedroom, and a desk was on the wall opposite the bed with a mirror on its side.

what also didn't go unnoticed by eris was the pile of parchments you had on your desk.

"what's all this?" he asked as he pointed to it.

your eyes followed his finger, and you noticed that the pile was now higher than yesterday 'madja must have added the ones that arrived this morning', you thought.

they were letters from your friends. the ones they've been sending since you left illyria and have been avoiding them.

every day, new letters arrive — letters that you didn't even bother opening, let alone reading, so you collected them on top of your desk.

why? you still didn't know.

there was a morning when a letter signed by azriel was on the carpet at the entrance of your house — that one went right to the fireplace.

with a shrug, you simply said "trash" and picked them all up and placed them in the trash can before leaning against your desk while eris sat on your bed.

"you look different." the male's voice filled the bedroom.

"what do you mean?"

it was eris's turn to shrug before continuing, "you seem more. . .free."

you chuckled, and as you ran a hand down your dress, you said, "i feel like that."

there was a moment of silence, and you watched the heir as he looked at one of the paintings next to your bed.

your eyes fell on his body again, and with a thought coming to your mind, a feline look and smile took over your face.

noticing the way you were looking at him, eris leaned on his forearms and shot you a bold smile. "what is that little head of yours thinking about?"

you laughed at his words, and as you approached him, you rested your hands on his thighs. "i have a question."

his smile grew even wider, and one of his eyebrows rose, and you took that gesture as your cue to continue.

your hands moved to his chest as you straddled his hips, "i want to know if what everyone says is true."

he placed his hands on your thighs and, in a whisper, asked, "what is?"

you leaned into his chest and as you brushed aside his hair with your hand, your lips hovered over his ear "that the autumn males have fire in their veins and they also fuck like it."

eris's body tensed beneath yours at your words, turning his smile into mischief, and the smell of arousal began to fill the small bedroom.

"it's true." eris straightened up, taking you with him and pushed your hair behind your shoulders.

you intertwined your fingers in his fiery hair, and still in a low voice, you said, "i'm afraid i'm going to need proof," earning a few chuckles from him.

with a kiss on his neck and then another on his shoulder, you whispered, "why don't you show me?"

eris chuckled, and with his hands now on your waist, he murmured, "as you wish, my lady." before connecting his lips with yours.

•••

several knocks on the front door woke you up the next morning.

you let out several curse words as you went down the stairs only in underwear while you tried to button the white shirt that you stole from the male who was still sleeping in your bed.

you only had time to button the last three buttons of the shirt before you reached the door and turned the handle to open it.

"oh, for caudron's sake," you ran a hand over your face before crossing your arms and leaning against the door. "what are you doing here?"

the high lord of the night court was at your doorstep dressed in his usual black suit with his hands in his pockets.

"good morning to you too." rhys said with a look of indifference at your choice of clothing to open the door.

"what are you doing here?" you asked the question again.

"you missed yesterday's meeting, and as you haven't answered any of our letters, i decided that perhaps it would be better to pay you a personal visit." he finished with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

you ran a hand through your hair again before giving him an irritated look. "and you decided to come. . ." you stretched back to see the clock on the living room table "at seven in the morning?"

"i went to the clinic, and you weren't there."

"today is my day off."

he cleared his throat, ignoring the fact that your bra was showing, "why didn't you go yesterday?"

"i've been busy." it was your only answer.

rhys was about to speak again when someone's footsteps coming down the stairs reached both your ears.

"do you have guests?"

"she does, and he's really annoyed that you made her get out of bed at this hour." eris said as he stood right behind you in just his boxers.

one of his hands went to your hip and the other to the door. “good morning, rhysand.” he said with a smile.

"eris." rhysand replied with an mask of indifference, but you knew that deep down, he was surprised to see him with you.

silence hung in the air as the two males looked at each other and you looked between them.

the high lord broke the silence without taking his eyes of the autumn heir. "what is he doing here?"

with a shrug and an air of amusement, you replied, "eris wanted to see velaris."

a laugh sounded behind you, and you joined him, and when you noticed the frustrated look of the male in front of you, you couldn't help but ask, "what? you don't like the view?"

"i can't say i do." rhysand answered with his eyes now meeting yours.

"well, that's a shame. maybe next time, think about letting me know you're coming before you show up at my door at seven in the morning." and with a fake smile dancing on your lips, you closed the door in his face.

•••

madja continued to look at you from moment to moment, trying to understand you as she has been doing in the last few days without success.

you were working at the counter, updating patient charts, and you seemed so normal. It seemed like everything was fine.

but madja knew it was just an illusion.

the atmosphere between you was now stranger after her shift ended early, and she found you with a male on the living room couch a few days ago — not just a male but the heir of autumn.

you laughed at the situation while she didn't think it was that funny. in fact, she thought it was shocking, considering this had never happened before.

her worry grew with each passing day.

it was only when a letter from rhysand arrived at the clinic that morning informing that you were to appear at the townhouse for a meeting in the afternoon that the old female's heart relaxed for a moment.

the high lord also took the time to explain in the letter that if you didn't show up this time, he himself would pick you up and carry you on his shoulder if necessary as this meeting was not optional.

when you finished reading, you huffed and muttered a small "i'd like to see you try" before crumpling up the piece of parchment and throwing it in the trash can.

you kept yourself busy at the clinic, and when the time for the meeting approached, you didn't bother finishing your work and going.

you simply continued doing your job and about twenty minutes later, when you returned to the counter, your eyes met violet ones.

the high lord was now in front of you and with your biggest smile of innocence, you asked him "are you here for an appointment? or maybe you came to pick up some medicine?"

rhysand faked a smile at your sarcastic comment — apparently you made a lot of those now.

"where is your red-haired lover?"

you looked down, and started looking in your pants pockets and when you finished, you met his violet eyes again before saying "not in here."

The male sighed loudly and in a deep but calm voice said to you "the meeting started twenty minutes ago."

"i know," you said without ever breaking eye contact.

"and can you explain to me why i had to come here?"

with a hand gesturing around the waiting room where multiple patients were, you replied "as you can see i've been very busy. a lot of people don't have the choice to spend the day sitting around doing nothing." you finished by resting your head on your hands, which were on top of the counter.

rhys furrowed his eyebrows, since when did you talk to someone like that?

at his confused look, you let out a dry laugh and, continued "i have no interest in going to the meeting, so i'm sorry you wasted your time in coming here, rhysand."

"rhysand?" He asked dumbfounded as he saw you walk away from the counter and grab the next patient's chart before making your way to where a old female was seated.

he wasted no time in following you "since when do you call me by my full name?"

you were quick to mutter "since you came here to be a pain in my ass" in response.

and this was enough of a reality check to make the male stop in his tracks. rhys had received a letter from your aunt a few days ago informing him that you were different but he discard it since the events of that night were still recent.

but now that he allowed himself to really look at you — he saw all the signs. not only in the way you were acting but also in your clothes.

you were always a warm and happy person and you reflected that in the clothes you wore with light and vivid colors.

normally you always wore dresses or a skirt with a top as the days at the clinic required you to walk from one side to the other and that way you were more comfortable as you had explained once when cassian commented that you always looked like a princess.

but now? now it seemed like the princess had been replaced by an evil queen.

leather pants covered your legs while a black strappy top was on your torso tucked into your pants and held up by a belt with silver details around your waist.

black high heels, eyeliner on your eyes and red lipstick on your lips completed the outfit.

you looked like a completely different person.

'what the hell happened?' the question echoed through his mind before rhys gently grabbed your arm and turned you around.

he decided at that moment that this could — and would — be talked about later, the important thing now was getting you to the meeting.

"y/n, we have a meeting to attend. let's go."

"i already told you that-"

before you could finish, rhys took the patient chart from your hands and handed it to a dark-haired healer that was passing by before crouching down and lifting you onto his shoulder with one hand still gripping your arm while the other reached around your legs to hold you.

"rhysand! are you kidding me?" you said and started swearing as you hit his back with your free hand.

on your way out, both of you passed by madja and rhys assured her that he would bring you back home in a few hours.

the old healer felt more at ease knowing that you would be safe with your friends and despite the worry that filled her heart, she couldn't help but let out a chuckle at the sight of you on the high lord's shoulder.

maybe this was exactly what you needed — a night out with your friends.

hope replaced some of the worry that she had been carrying these last few days, that after tonight, you would come back happier.

you would come back as the niece she knew.

•••

"seriously, rhysand? are you going to carry me like this the whole way?" you asked with annoyance in your voice.

"yes," a hint of embarrassment crossed the male's face at the use of his full name.

several curses were muttered in a low voice as the eyes of the citizens of velaris focused on you and the male who carried you, one of your arms still trapped in his hand.

some citizens looked curious while others laughed, but they all whispered about the reason for such a view.

"rhysand, people are looking." you mumble with a pat on his back.

"i know," were his words as he sent smiles and slight waves in the direction of his citizens, as if this were some kind of show — one he was enjoying too much for your taste.

using his daemati powers, rhysand sent a message to his family — a message warning them to prepare themselves.

•••

"well, this is a new view." you heard cassian's voice when you and rhys finally entered the townhouse's living room.

rhys stopped in front of the couches where his family sat, some of them with drinks in their hands, "sorry it took so long. i had to walk."

a tap on rhys' back sounded through the room followed by a small murmur of "prick" coming from you.

"hey!" rhys tried to scold you at the same time you said "does my ass look good from back there?"

rhys sighed loudly, earning a few chuckles from the people in front of him.

they had been talking about rhys's warning before you arrived but they couldn't deny that your actions were funny despite the situation.

"was this really necessary, rhys?" feyre asked with a small smile gracing her lips.

"believe me, it was." rhys began to gently place you on the ground before rising to his full height again and placing his hands in his pockets.

you turned to face the rest of your friends and managed to catch the surprise that crossed their eyes when they saw you in your new outfit.

"hello," you greeted them with a slight nod.

"you're late, girl. did you lose track of time?" amren asked you while drinking from her glass of wine.

"no, i just didn't want to come." you replied before grabbing the glass of whiskey that cassian was passing to rhys and sitting on the couch between nesta and elain.

nesta turned towards you and said softly, "i've been trying to talk to you these last few days."

"i've been busy." you said while lookinh away.

nesta furrowed her eyebrows at your behavior.

she had received rhys's warning just like the others but she really thought things would be different with her.

that even though you were different with the others, you wouldn't be with her and that she would be the person to go through you, just like you did for her a year ago.

when you saw nesta opening her mouth with the intention of speaking again, you were quick to cut her off "so, are we going to start this meeting or not? since i was dragged here like a sack of potatoes." you mumbled the last part.

the high lord cleared his throat before beginning "i had a meeting with eris the other day. apparently beron allied himself with the human queen briallyn who in turn allied herself with koschei."

"we need to know beron's plans are with this new alliance and that's exactly what eris is doing. i'm going to meet with him again in two days and that's where you come in, y/n."

at the mention of your name, you looked at the male who was already looking at you. with a raise of your eyebrows, he continued "i need you to come with me to the meeting and read eris. i need to know if he is being honest or not."

you chuckled "why would he lie?"

"he has lied before." azriel spoke for the first time since your arrival.

you looked at him with a cold look, and everyone else could have sworn that the temperature in the room dropped when your colorless eyes met his.

"so have you." you didn't hesitate to respond.

you saw him flinch and stared at each other for a few more seconds before he looked away and you continued "so has everyone else in this room. except elain of course. perfect, sweet and innocent elain would never do that."

you looked at the female with a fake smile and it was at that moment that you realized what was in front of you.

azriel and elain sitting on different sofas far from each other without any kind of physical or visual contact.

as you exchanged glances between the two, a smile began to form on your lips at the realization.

lifting a finger you gestured between the two of them before trying to express your curiosity "what's wrong with the love birds?"

when no one responded, it didn't take long for you to speak again. "trouble in paradise? oh, wait. i know. you finally remembered lucien."

you saw azriel's jaw throbbing in frustration and as you were really enjoying this new view, you decided to continue.

you moved closer to elain and placed your arm around her shoulders before telling her loud enough for everyone to hear, "in my opinion, you should choose lucien. you know that rumor that autumn males have fire in their veins and also fuck like it?"

you heard rhysand swear in the background, giving you a new smile and encouraging you to continue. "well, it's true. eris proved that to me the other night." you winked in her direction.

"y/n," rhysand called you out with his high lord voice.

"what? it's the truth," you laughed and started to get up to leave.

upon seeing you get up, feyre was quick to gently grab your wrist and turn you towards her, she held your hand with both of her hands and said calmly "did you receive our letters?"

you looked at your joined hands before answering her "i did."

with a slight nod, she asked again "did you read them?"

you looked at her and when you saw your friend's face, you let your guard down for a second and tried to read her emotions instinctively.

but then a movement in the corner of your eye caught your attention.

azriel was filling his glass and in sight of the male, you remembered why you did what you did to protect yourself.

for that same reason, you moved away from her touch and with a cold voice you gave her the answer she didn't want to hear.

"no, in fact, i throw them away with the exception of your letter, azriel," you turned to the male who froze in his place with your voice addressing him, "i burned yours."

and with that you started to make your way to the front door with Rhysand behind you to take you home, just like he had told your aunt, leaving your friends shocked without knowing what to say about this new version of you.

cassian followed you to the door and stopped you before you could open it. "you never came back to the house of wind."

upon meeting the general's eyes, after your interaction with feyre, you realized for the first time that where affection and love for your friends used to be was now empty.

"i moved out. i'm living with my aunt again." a shrug accompanied your response.

"why?" He asked you.

the truth is that you felt embarrassed.

embarrassed about that night.

embarrassed that you cried in front of your aunt and your friends.

embarrassed that you fell in love with a male who had no interest in you.

embarrassed that you let a male make you feel this way, that you gave him so much power over your emotions.

embarrassed by how weak you felt.

but not anymore.

now you feel nothing.

and that's exactly how you wanted it.

you didn't bother to answer him before turning your back on him and disappearing into the darkness of the night with rhys by your side.

•••

the office door opened softly letting the light of the faelights fill the hallway.

feyre slipped inside before spotting her mate standing in front of the desk with a book that by the looks of it must be very old as he inspected the pages.

"what is that?" feyre's voice echoed through the silent office, making her mate's violet eyes meet her light blue ones.

"it's a book about rare powers, it has several chapters about empaths. i borrowed it from helion after y/n came to the house." he explained with his eyes returning to the yellow pages.

feyre laughed lightly as she recalled how her friend had arrived at the residence. "you mean when you had to carry her here?"

rhys tried to laugh but a weak smile was all he could muster. the small gesture did not go unnoticed by the high lady, nor did the concern on the male's face.

"you're worried about her, aren't you?"

with a long sigh, rhys stood up to his full height and faced his wife, "very, something happened to her and we don't know what," as he crossed his arms over his chest, he leaned against the wall before continuing "she's different, she's insensitive and arrogant. that's not our y/n."

the last sentence made feyre's heart tighten a little — she felt it too. they all did and they all missed their friend.

"did you notice the way she looked at azriel?" feyre asked, when she saw how you looked at the male, she thanked to the mother that she wasn't the one on the receiving end of it "it was like she never felt anything for him, like she hated him. It was scary actually."

rhys's eyes widened as the realization made its way through his mind. "like she didn't feel. . ." he muttered softly and approached the book again.

confused, the female approached the desk trying to figure out what Rhys had just realized, as he started flipping through the pages faster and faster.

feyre was surprised the pages didn't tear considering how old they were and how quickly they were being flipped through.

"rhys?"

the high lord stopped at a page and after reading it and rereading it several times, feyre heard his heart starting to race.

very slowly, rhys raised his head to meet his mate's eyes and with a low voice he finally revealed the reason for his reaction. "she turned them off."

"what?"

his heart started to beat even faster "her emotions. she turned them off," rhys ran a hand through his hair making it even more uneven, "y/n turned off her emotions."

shock began to course through the high lady's body and she didn't hide it when she was invaded by it. "is that possible?"

at her question, rhys turned the book towards her and let her read the information he was still trying to process.

everything started to make sense.

"the way she talks, her clothes and the fact that she doesn't care about anything. . .all of this because-"

"because she doesn't feel anything." rhys completed for her.

as he opened his mouth to speak again, several knocks on the wooden office door interrupted him.

clearing his voice, rhys gave the order for the person behind the door to enter.

it was quite late, with most of their family having gone to their respective rooms a few hours ago, but the couple couldn't hide their surprise when the person knocking on the door turned out to be Nuala.

"nuala? is everything okay?" feyre asked.

the half-wraith stepped forward and without revealing anything in her features, she replied "i'm not sure, high lady. i came to inform you that lady madja is in the living room and has asked to speak to the inner circle immediately."

even more confused than before, they both questioned why would madja be here in the middle of the night.

nuala continued "lady madja said it was urgent. it's about y/n."

at the mention of your name, two sets of chills went down the couple's spines and rhys was quick to give nuala a new order "wake everyone up."

•••

the inner circle met in the living room with madja among them.

rhys proceeded to explain what he had discovered about you just moments ago.

the book now sat on the old healer's lap as she reread what her niece had done with tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

madja knew something was wrong with you but she would never have guessed that this was the reason behind it.

"so, she doesn't feel anything?" nesta asked.

if this matter had been about anyone else, she wouldn't have bothered to show her sadness but you weren't anyone else.

you were her best friend — her sister.

"yes," feyre said with a lump in her throat.

the room fell silent as everyone tried to process this new information.

in the corner of the sofa, cassian blamed himself for not having noticed sooner and not having done anything to help.

elain kept looking around the room with the feeling she was being judged and azriel was rethinking all the signs you had given him that he hadn't noticed.

"it's no one's fault," rhys' voice caught their attention but his attention was only on cassian, "we had no way of knowing this without that book we wouldn't even know this was possible."

the general hadn't even realized that his shields were down but his brother's words brought him comfort.

"what do we do?" mor spoke for the first time since entering the room "how do we get her back?"

hurt flashed across rhys's face and before he could respond, madja did it for him. "we can't," all eyes turned to her and for the first time since they had known the healer, they saw her cry.

"y/n is the only one who can turn her emotions back on. it's up to her and only her," with new tears falling down her cheeks she concluded, "there's nothing we can do."

feyre placed a hand on the old female's shoulder. "i'm so sorry, madja."

madja let out a long sigh and before she could hesitate any further she said "that's not all. there's a reason i came here tonight."

"what do you mean?" cassian asked.

"y/n's personality isn't the only thing that has changed."

the room became tense and several breaths were held.

"what's that supposed to mean?" amren asked and if madja knew her better, she would have sworn she had just heard a hint of fear in amren's voice.

"i've been trying to figure out why for several days but this. . ." she pointed to the book, "this explains everything."

with all eyes focused on her, the old healer begin to explain "a few days ago i put y/n to treat a boy's knee. she grabbed one of his leg and when she put it down there was a bruise in the same place her hand was. she assumed she just hadn't seen the bruise before but that was because the boy didn't have any. i was the one who sat that boy in the chair and the only thing he had was the wound on his knee and nothing else. i would have noticed the bruise if he had it."

"what are you trying to say, madja?" rhys asked, he could feel that with every word the old female spoke, everyone became more nervous.

"after the boy," madja continued, "she attended to a male who had ingested a poisonous plant by mistake. when she used her magic to heal him, he started spitting blood from his mouth and became very pale. y/n thought that the poison was stronger than she thought but when i came to help the male. . .i managed to cure him without any problems."

"madja, what are-" nesta tried to ask.

"i think. . .," madja ran a hand through her black hair, "i think when she turned off her emotions, i think it affected her powers too. when I saw her trying to heal that male, her powers weren't emitted by a white light like all healers."

mor's voice shook as she asked "what was it?"

madja stared at the blonde female before telling her "darkness."

several curse words passed through the room, increasing the tension that was already in the air.

"i think y/n gave the boy that bruise and i think when she tried to take the poison out of the male. . .i think she ended up spreading it."

"over the next few days, each time y/n used her powers to heal the patients. . .they all got worse. eventually, i had to put her to work behind the counter so she couldn't hurt anyone else."

this new revelation of your powers only made a bad situation even worse and much, much more dangerous.

it is already quite dangerous for a person not to be able to feel anything as this means that they cannot distinguish right from wrong just as they cannot understand when to stop but to have their powers changed?

amren set down her glass of wine before speaking "if you think about it it makes sense," she began drawing all the attention to her "when she turned off her emotions, she turned off everything that was a part of her, including her own person."

"what does this mean?" nesta asked with fear on her face not only for what this could mean but also for you.

azriel was the first to realize with amren's words being the last piece of the puzzle he needed "mother help us. madja, you're not trying to say that y/n is now a. . ."

the male couldn't find the strength to finish his sentence but it wasn't long before cassian continued where he left.

"a what?" he asked, eyes bouncing between his brother and the healer. "she's a what?"

with a long sigh, madja said "y/n is no longer a healer."

no one was prepared for madja's next words.

they didn't know what to expect when she came to their house in the middle of the night but they never would have thought of this turn of events.

they would never have guessed that their friend's pain was so deep that it would cause this to happen.

"y/n is a necromancer."

a/n: thank you for reading!

[masterlist]

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taglist fic: @crazylokonugget @quinzzelx @cumuluscranium @i-am-infinite @rcarbo1 @romantasyreader28 @thegreyjoyed @whyshouldihaveanam3 @sheblogs @amysangel @meher-sumedha @paleidiot @skylarkalchemist @thestartitaness @romanoffslegacy @bookwormysblog @sandramalikstyles-blog

*if you asked to be tagged and you weren't, it's because I couldn't find your blog.

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inazumass · 10 months ago

Text

Animal Attraction - Laios x Beastman!Reader

No beta read this time, but I might add other chapters of this for f/m/ftm reader in the future on AO3 if there's enough interest for it. I try to make my smut as inclusive as possible but sometimes it takes away from the descriptors, y'know? Let me know what you think! https://archiveofourown.org/works/56591389

TAGS/Warnings: NSFW, Smut with Plot, Gender Neutral Reader, No Use of Y/N, Mild Themes of Forced Proximity/One Bed Trope (Kinda), Huddle For Warmth, Penetration, Gender Neutral Anatomy, Second Person Perspective/Freeform, Beastman/Beastkin Reader/Doglike Reader, Comfort, No Pet Names, Enthusiastic Consent, No use of protection don't be like Chilchuck, y'all

Word Count: 11.9k

As always, Minors DNI

Shadows stretched long across the wooden floor of the old bedroom where Laios sat in his bed for the night. This floor was quiet now but if anyone paused to listen they would be able to hear all the creatures off in the distance as they stalked their way through the dungeon. Their various calls and cries echoed off the far away walls of the vast cavern surrounding the ruins.

It was cool here now, the crisp night air swirling through the alleyways and rustling the curtains. If it weren’t for the view out the window of the ruined structures littering the cave the old town was situated in, it might have been easy for anyone to convince themselves that they were in any regular old inn on the surface.

There were few usable rooms left in the building now though, and the party had to make do with the last three decent rooms on the third floor. Not that anyone seemed to mind much… hell, most were grateful for a proper bed to sleep on for the first time in days.

Down the hall Laios could hear the sounds of his party mates getting settled in for the night, their muffled speech unintelligible through the thick stone walls. He had settled into his bed, unfurling his bedroll over the old linen sheets as he stole glances at the newest member of their ragtag group.

He tried hard not to stare, but his gaze kept flickering up to the soft ears perched atop your head.

By now he’d known well enough not to question Izutsumi on her state after much scolding from the others and the sharp sting of her claws whenever she would get fed up with his pestering. Yet you were so vastly different in comparison to the sharper features of the party’s youngest member; your sharper more wolf-like features juxtaposed with the softer body of a human, the perfect fusion of man and beast. He couldn't help but wonder what it would be like… he’d always fantasised, albeit not so secretly about what it might be like to have more animalistic features, were you more monster or more human? His thoughts were cut off quickly when your eyes flicked over to him, feeling his eyes on your back. Your ears flicked in mild annoyance, not exactly fond of the intrusive gaze.

“What are you staring at?” You sighed, all too used to the way people would size you up. The questions, the fear, the judgement.

“Your ears look so soft.” The blond smiled sheepishly as the words slipped out of his mouth without much thought.

The sincerity of his gaze caught you by surprise, unsure how to respond as you stared back at him. You blinked slowly, momentarily thrown off by his unexpected offhand comment. He seemed genuine, his eyes holding a warmth that contrasted sharply with the usual wariness you encountered from other tallmen. After a beat of silence, you couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"They're just ears," You replied, your tone light but tinged with a hint of amusement as your ears perked back up, "But thanks, I guess?"

He chuckled softly in return, a sheepish grin still playing on his lips. "Sorry, that was probably a weird thing to say, huh?" Laios asked, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as he looked down at his lap.

"It's... different," you admitted, offering him a nonchalant shrug. "But different can be nice.” You said finally, earning another smile from the tallman.

His sheepish grin widened into a relieved smile at your response, his shoulders visibly relaxing as he let out a quiet sigh. "I'm glad you think so," Laios replied, amber eyes still avoiding your gaze. He knew if he looked back up he wouldn’t be able to resist staring a little longer. "I didn't mean to make things awkward."

You shook your head, offering him a reassuring smile of your own. "No need to worry about it. It's refreshing, honestly." You replied, sitting back against the old wooden headboard. Perhaps you had been wary of him for no reason, though you hadn’t fully dropped your defences around the group despite your curiosity about the knight. They had all been gracious enough to take you in when you were too injured to carry on alone.

You were certain if they hadn’t wandered by when they did you would have been doomed on your own. Now, you thought, you would be forever indebted to them for their kindness. That being said, you couldn’t help but feel out of place regardless of their continued kindness.

“I’m sorry... I guess I was just expecting you to say something else.” You admitted. A sigh pushed past your lips as you hugged your knees, uneasy at even the smallest bit of vulnerability you’d shown him with your vague explanation.

Though he wasn’t the best at reading the emotions of others, he could see the way you curled in on yourself as if protecting something, your ears drooping against your head. It reminded him of the strays he would see back home, wounded, exposed…

His voice was gentle as he spoke, his gaze lifting to look you in the eyes as he searched for the right words. “I’ve heard stories of beastmen before… but you and Izutsumi are way cooler than any of them.” Laios affirmed, earning a little snort of laughter from you. “Seriously! Half tallman and half wolf, that’s… incredible!” He exclaimed.

You wanted to disagree, but something about the way his eyes lit up when he spoke had you believing it too. After all, no ordinary tallman could do what you could. Even so, you found yourself shifting in discomfort under his gaze. You had always been acutely aware of the implications of your existence, created from black magic… an abomination, a monster.

Even now that you’d finally met someone like you, someone who couldn’t shift the way others in similar circumstances could, she was nothing like you. Though you suspected Izutsumi more than tolerated you from the way she would curl up between you and Marcille when she slept... half the time she complained that you reeked of dog smell, that you were noisy, and so on. You were nowhere near as agile as she was. Your form held little to be proud of; sharp teeth and claws, patches of fur scattered across your body. Both on the surface and deep within the dungeons black magic and all of its creations were things to be feared, reviled.

"Most people see me as a monster," you admitted bitterly, looking away from him as you hugged your knees a little tighter.

Laios’ brow furrowed slightly as he watched you retreat back into your shell. A monster? He wasn’t entirely certain what had compelled him to say what he said next, but the words came out regardless. “So what?” He frowned, his tone capturing your attention once more even if it was mostly due to the shock of hearing him speak like that. “Who cares what anyone else thinks?"

The question was rhetorical and you knew that, yet you opened your mouth to speak anyways. The protests died on your lips before they could form entirely as he cut you off. “Their misconceptions about you aren’t going to change who you are.” The knight said firmly as he looked deep into your eyes, the intimacy of his earnest gaze causing you to look away again.

Laios’ words echoed in your mind, resonating with a quiet strength that you couldn't ignore. You were silent for a long moment. Something about the way he spoke so confidently on the matter had you suspicious that he’d had to tell himself the same thing once or twice. "You're right," you replied, a newfound resolve coursing through your veins as you felt that unfamiliar spark of understanding for the first time in years. "Who cares what anyone else thinks?" You repeated.

For too long, you’d allowed the judgement and scorn of others to dictate your actions, to shape your perception of yourself. While it would take time to internalise it properly and truly digest the sentiment behind his words of encouragement, you felt a bit more steady for the time being. For now you would forge your own path alongside his party.

"Thank you," you said softly, meeting the knight's gaze with a grateful smile.

“Of course.” He replied, laying back against his bed roll and looking up at the ceiling. He was torn now, frustration and mild jealousy gnashing their ugly teeth and gnawing at the back of his mind. Jealousy because he’d always dreamt of what it might be like to be a werewolf or something of the sort, frustration because others couldn’t see how amazing you and the other beastmen truly were beyond your respective abilities in the arenas. Questions swirled in his mind and died in his throat, even Laios knew that now wasn’t the time to ask. Beastman status aside, it irked him that you’d been made to feel that way about yourself.

You had laid down on your own bed before stealing another glance at him. Even in the faint glow that illuminated the room you could see the way his brow furrowed as he stared up at the vaulted ceiling, the mild tension in his jaw.

“You look like you have something else to say.”

He hesitated, his words caught in his throat… You couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him and whatever he seemed to be wrestling with in that moment. Despite the barriers that separated you… you shared a common struggle, not just on this mission but in life as a whole. You understood that now.

Laios hesitated, uncertain of how his thoughts would be received. "I do," he admitted. "But it's... complicated."

“Try me,” you replied, rolling over so you could face him properly.

Laios hesitated again, his gaze drifting back to the ceiling as he weighed the words in his mind. Even in the short few days you’d been with the group he knew you well enough to know that you deserved to hear what he said next. "It's just... sometimes I can't help but feel a little... envious," he admitted, self-consciousness flooding into his senses as he spoke the words aloud. A part of him expected you to snap at him for saying something like that after he heard the way his words hung in the open air.

You didn't though, instead you just cocked your head slightly, curiosity piqued by his confession. "Envious? Of what?" He couldn't have meant what you thought he did. You were cursed. Even with the enhanced senses, your strength, your speed… the weight of the isolation had always felt heavier.

A faint blush coloured Laios' cheeks as he met your gaze, a sheepish smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Of you, actually," he confessed, his tone laced with a mix of admiration and embarrassment. "I mean, you're so... unique. You’ve got the best of both traits, you’re strong, you’re fast… you’re a skilled strategist, your sense of smell is unparalleled and… I can always tell when you’re happy because your tail wags even when you’re trying to be serious.” He looked back up and away from you once again as he realised he couldn’t stop the words from spilling past his lips, scratching the itch in his brain.

“I know it’s only reasonable for people to be wary of the unfamiliar, it’s in our nature to want to keep ourselves safe from something that could be perceived as a threat. It’s the one thing we living creatures all have in common. But it’s just frustrating, because…” Because you’re like me. Laios wanted to stop himself from saying what came out next, but he couldn’t help it. "...because sometimes it feels like no matter what we do, no matter how hard we try, we'll always be seen as outsiders," There was a resigned look on his face now, despite the bitterness of the frustration replacing his usual upbeat tone. "Like we're destined to be misunderstood, judged solely by the circumstances of our existence."

You swallowed hard, looking back up at the ceiling with him as his rant struck something within you. His words stung with that all too familiar ache of rejection. There was another beat of silence that passed between the two of you as the weight of his sentiment settled in.

“I know what you mean,” You replied, voice barely above a whisper. This time it was your turn to snap him out of it. “But you know what? Despite it all, we're still here. And that counts for something, doesn't it?"

He didn’t seem convinced, but you could see the way the tension started to leave his body when he finally rolled over to face you from across the room. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Laios replied, the ghost of a halfhearted smile on his pink lips.

The two of you looked at each other in silence for a long moment, a silent understanding passing between the two of you in the night. It had been a long time since you’d had the liberty to have a conversation like this. Open, honest, vulnerable under the cover of the night, tucked away somewhere quiet...

“Thank you,” you couldn’t help but say it again, something about the heavy conversation seemed to lighten the invisible load on your shoulders. “I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve had a conversation like this.”

A soft chuckle escaped him, and he gave a slight bob of his head in agreement. "Yeah, I know what you mean. It's nice to just... talk."

As the conversation continued to flow between you, the initial tension that had hung in the air slowly dissipated, replaced by a growing sense of ease and comfort. Though you both knew that you should have been sleeping, found yourself drawn to his company, his honesty and blunt nature was refreshing. As the evening wore on, bathed in the gentle glow of the flickering candles and soft hum of conversation, you couldn't help but feel grateful for having met the tallman.

You could feel the gentle caress of the breeze as it snuck through the open window, teasing the flames of the candles and sending shadows dancing across the stone walls of the old room. The soft light illuminated the room, creating an intimate atmosphere that seemed to envelop you both in its soothing embrace.

Neither of you were certain when you’d drifted off to sleep, the orange glow of the candles having been extinguished long before you’d woken up again.

As your eyes fluttered open they struggled momentarily to adjust to the darkness surrounding your bed. With the old shutters closed and the candles extinguished it was near impossible to see at first but as your eyes adjusted your enhanced night vision came in handy. All was silent inside now, the rest of your party mates likely fast asleep… the only sounds were the frenzied rushing of the wind against the building and Laios’ light snores in the bed across from you. Even beneath the cover of your sleeping bag, you could feel the cold seeping into your bones. The tufts of fur that littered your body seemed to stand on end in the darkness, prominent goosebumps prickling across your skin

Something was off, it was colder now. Too cold. You reached out across the gap between your beds, gently shaking Laios's shoulder. His skin was cool to the touch and you couldn’t help but notice the way he was shivering in his sleep.

“Laios,” you whispered urgently, “wake up.”

He stirred, breathing slow and heavy. He let out a soft groan as he blinked his eyes open, mirroring your earlier struggle to adjust to the darkness in the room now as his amber eyes searched for you in the blackness. '”What’s going on?” he murmured.

“It’s freezing… something’s wrong.” You explained, tugging your sleeping bag closer around you as if to further prove your point.

“It’s probably just the dungeon’s terrain shifting again,” he replied calmly, rubbing his eyes while his body settled back into consciousness.

A shiver rippled through his body as the chill settled in. This isn’t good, he thought to himself, trying to calculate the situation at hand through the fog of his lingering sleep. Each of the rooms had shuttered windows, so it was likely that the others were fine as well. Considering the rushing sound of the air currents outside it would be safe to assume that there was a significant risk for frostbite out there if left exposed. Staying inside the abandoned structure was certainly the better alternative… but without some sort of external heat source your muscles would easily become stiff and painful at this temperature before long.

Laios huffed, his breath just barely visible in the dark. So that was it then. He glanced back over to you then, watching as you struggled to properly cocoon yourself in your sleeping bag to stave off the cold for just a little longer.

“We’ll be alright,” He said tenderly with a reassuring smile.

“I’m freezing, and you’re still shivering.” You groaned, clenching your jaw as you tried to keep your teeth from chattering.

He swallowed hard, weighing his options in his mind once more as he considered what he was about to say before he took a deep breath. “We should probably huddle together for warmth then.” Laios said solemnly. In an attempt to calm his racing heart he continued quickly: “Shivering all night in our sleep won’t help with the fatigue, right now our muscles are expanding and contracting really fast to try and generate warmth to compensate for the-”

“Okay,” you interrupted, too tired to keep up with his fast paced facts.

As you swung your legs off the side of your bed he hesitated before sliding over to make room for you, watching in mild amusement as you shuffled your way across the gap in your sleeping bag before flopping down next to him in the bed. For once he was at a loss for words, not expecting you to take the opportunity so quickly, though he supposed it made sense. Even though you looked more human than beast, he supposed wolves were pack animals, used to close proximity with other members of their pack. Although- he interrupted himself in his mind, that would be dependent upon the particular species of wolf you’d been - his thoughts were quickly interrupted by the groaning of the old wood frame supporting your bodies as it creaked in protest against the added weight before settling again.

This was better, his warmth next to you helping to warm you ever so slightly, but you could still feel the sting of the cold as you laid next to him in your sleeping bag, struggling to get comfortable. Laios found himself hesitating again, although he couldn’t place exactly why. It wasn’t as if he’d never slept in close proximity to someone else. Hell, on this journey alone he’d spent countless nights sandwiched between other members of his party as they slept.

You didn’t seem to have a problem with it as you squeezed in next to him, but he could still see the way you shivered as you tried to get settled.

“It would, uh… probably be more effective if we combined our body heat.” He muttered, swallowing the lump in his throat once more as he looked away from you.

Silence stretched out between you for what felt like forever as he felt the familiar claws of self doubt scraping at the back of his mind. He was thankful when you finally put him out of his misery, shooting him an awkward little smile as you spoke: “Yeah, that makes sense… I’m alright with it if you are.”

He nodded firmly, still avoiding your gaze as he helped you get tucked in beneath his sleeping bag. If you noticed the shift in his energy, you didn’t show it as you cuddled up next to him, pressing your back into his side beneath the covers. Laios tried to remain calm as he laid your now empty sleeping bag overtop of his, adding extra insulation for the both of you. The wind whistled outside, the shutters stirring as cold seeped its way in through the cracks in the wood. You were grateful now for the additional heat, it sounded like the storm outside was picking up.

The tallman let out a sigh, his breath a cloud of fog as he listened to the intensity of the wind outside. He sat up to tuck the edges of the sleeping bag beneath the two of you, ensuring that the cold couldn’t slither in between the two of you. He glanced over at you then in the dark, your soft features just barely visible in the dim light leaking in from the slits in the shutters. A little smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he watched your ears twitch against the pillow. You looked so comfortable, cute even.

He pushed the thought aside as he laid back down beside you, his arm resting on the pillow above your head as he attempted to give you a little bit of space.

“I’m glad we found this place,” He commented, his voice a soft murmur above the sound of the rushing wind outside. Despite the chill, the room was calm in comparison to the storm outside. “We’re lucky we didn’t get caught out in that.”

“Mhm…” You hummed in response, already close to falling asleep as you nuzzled against his arm with a sigh.

Laios’ cheeks turned a deeper shade of red beneath the cover of darkness. He could already feel his heart rate picking up again and something about the way he couldn't take his eyes off you suggested it was due to much more than the cold. Here he could feel the way the soft fur of your ears tickled his arm, your bushy tail laid comfortably across his hips. It took every ounce of willpower in his body not to reach out and stroke the soft fur there, wanting to know exactly how the sleek fluff would feel against the roughened skin of his palms. He watched for a moment as your breathing slowed and evened out, realising it would probably be weird of him to watch you sleep.

So instead he shut his eyes and tried to will his body to follow suit, to relax his stiffened muscles and calm the steady hammering in his chest. You grumbled softly as he tried to pull his arm away to readjust, gripping his forearm lightly as you pulled it back beneath your head. He winced internally. He was trapped now, he didn’t want to fall asleep on his back but would it be weird if he slept facing you?

It would probably do a better job of keeping you both warm, sure, but why was it so difficult to just go ahead and roll over? His limbs felt heavy, would it be weird if he put his arm around you? If someone walked in would it cause some kind of misunderstanding? He wasn’t sure he wanted to deal with a lecture from Chilchuck on the importance of professionalism in the workplace.

He lost himself in his thoughts again until he felt another shiver run down across your body. Poor thing, he thought, how were you still cold? He felt like he was burning up but if the cheek pressed against his arm was any indication of your overall body temperature you were still freezing.

With a sigh he gave in and wrapped his other arm around your waist, maintaining a respectful distance from any of the more intimate areas of your body.

You relaxed instantly into the touch, pressing back against him and pulling his arms a little closer as you seeked out the warmth. He tried hard not to look at you then, honey coloured eyes searching the ceiling in the darkness once again before he ultimately gave up and tried to close them once again.

It took some time for him to finally settle down enough to start falling asleep again, only to be interrupted by the way your tail started to wag in your sleep. At first he thought it was cute, wondering about what kind of dream you must have been having at that moment. It had to be something good. He’d always wondered what it was his childhood dogs had dreamed about when he caught their tails thumping against the ground where they slept. Briefly, he wondered if it would be rude to ask you in the morning. That was, until you shifted slightly in your sleep and it started to brush against him instead of the bed.

Laios sucked in a harsh breath through his teeth as your appendage brushed against the front of his trousers. He tried to shift his hips away from you only to earn a little groan of protest as he tried to move.

“H-hey, careful where you’re moving that.” He whispered, shakily.

It was almost shameful how quickly that little motion had him worked up. Having spent so long traversing the dungeon with multiple people in close proximity to monsters… it wasn’t like he had a lot of time to himself. His cheeks burned with embarrassment as he tried to squirm away, only for you to grumble and push back against him in your sleep, tail still swishing lightly against his hips. If you didn’t stop soon he might blow a gasket trying to explain the growing bulge pressing into the soft fat of your ass if you woke up, or die of embarrassment, whichever came first.

“C-cut it out.” He hissed, the arm around your waist shifting so he could grip the base of your tail and stop it from rubbing against him further.

The pressure earned a low moan from you in your sleep and he immediately tensed up and froze.

“Ngh… Laios?” You muttered, voice husky with exhaustion as you came to once again.

Shit. His heart leaped in his chest as you began to stir. By now he could hear the rush of his heartbeat hammering away in his chest like the steady beat of a drum. He released his grip on the tail, too embarrassed now to fawn over how soft the fur was there.

“Y-Yeah, I’m still here” He whispered, his throat dry as he let out another quivering breath. He stayed still then, trying to will you to go back to sleep with his mind so he could turn away and continue to ignore his growing problem in peace.

“What’s wrong?” You mumbled groggily. Even in your half-asleep state, you caught the tremor in his voice. Though you sensed no immediate danger, the wobble in his tone set you on edge. Turning to face him, you inadvertently brushed against him once more.

The moment the soft fur brushed against him again, he couldn't help but twitch as another wave of heat surged through his body. It was all too much, the close proximity and now your warm breaths fanning across his chest, it was too intense. His eyes searched the room in the darkness, avoiding your gaze as he searched for any sort of distraction to calm himself down before you noticed. Sure, it was a natural biological reaction to external stimuli but no amount of logic could spare him the shame that washed over him as he wondered what you might think of him. Your voice ripped him from his spiral once more as you repeated his name.

Those two syllables had no right to get him as worked up as they did. Your tired voice sending another shiver down his spine as he swallowed nervously. Had his name always sounded that good on your lips?

“Laios?” You repeated, completely oblivious to his predicament until you shifted again and felt the bulge pressing into your thigh.

He winced, bracing himself for whatever it was that might come out of your mouth next. The blond prayed silently to whatever benevolent deity above might listen that you hadn’t noticed anything and he might be able to talk his way out of this somehow and turn away. But it was too late now, the evidence was there for anyone to see- or feel in your case. A soft oh was all you offered to calm his racing mind. Heat rushed into his cheeks as he fumbled for words.

“It’s-” his words broke off as you gently pulled your leg away from him, a soft gasp spilling from his lips as he fought the urge deep within himself to chase the heat in order to satiate the growing need in his abdomen. “I… I’m sorry,” he breathed, pulling away from you and attempting to give you as much space as he could within the confines of your shared sleeping bag after you’d finally let go of him. “I…” He wanted to take the blame but he didn’t know how else to get the explanation out, “you were rubbing against me in your sleep and I tried to get you to stop. I’m so sorry.”

The blush in your cheeks mirrored the knight's as you fought to recall the dream you’d been having prior to getting woken up. You hoped you hadn’t said anything while you dreamt.

“S-sorry, I must have been dreaming, I didn’t mean to… uh,” you stammered out, looking back at him uneasily.

“It’s okay.” He practically whispered back as he looked away from you. His nerves were set ablaze even further by the intensity of your wide eyed stare. This was pathetic, really, the way those fleeting touches sent his head spinning. The way you’d brushed up against him earlier only served to further ignite the fire inside of him. He closed his eyes then and forced himself to focus on his breathing- anything that would take his mind off of the way you looked at him or the light trail of heat that lingered along his skin from the way you’d touched his body.

“We can pretend this didn’t happen,” you offered, voice trailing off as shame crept into your voice as well. Your ears drooped down against your head in embarrassment, the fur blending in with your hair under what dim lighting the room had to offer.

Even as you tried to push the thought from your mind you couldn’t help but glance down and away from his face at that moment. You didn’t want to make him any more uncomfortable than he already seemed to be with the situation… but you couldn’t fight the curiosity, so tempted to steal a glance at the space between his thighs hidden beneath the covers.

He opened his eyes just in time to catch the way you glanced downward, unable to help the way he was drawn back to you despite the awkwardness of the situation. For a moment he wondered if he’d only imagined it and that subtle unconscious flick of your tongue against your lips. Laios practically bit his tongue to stop himself from asking something he might regret later. He wasn’t going to let one little slip-up ruin the trust that the two of you seemed to be building up so far.

“Yeah… yeah, that’s probably for the best.” He replied with a halfhearted chuckle.

With the space between your bodies now it was becoming increasingly more difficult to ignore the pent up frustration in his body. The cold was now long forgotten as he focussed on the heat radiating off of you in bed next to him as the storm raged on outside.

“We should probably get back to sleep.” You commented, voice barely audible over the thrum of your heartbeat in your ears. You relaxed slightly, trying to get comfortable in the new position you found yourself in.

The sleeping bags shifted slightly and you pulled them up, your hand brushing against him through the layers of fabric. This third accidental touch was almost enough for his resolve to shatter, a strangled whine releasing from his throat before he could stop it. He tried to compose himself, it was better to just ignore it. In the morning it would be like nothing happened and the two of you could just forget about it as it became nothing more than an awkward memory at the edge of awareness. Something you think about as you’re trying to drift off to sleep and your brain starts tormenting you with humiliating memories.

You swallowed thickly, now trying to calm yourself down in tandem with Laios as goosebumps prickled along your skin for another reason now. Something in you was begging to hear that noise again.

It was better to remain professional about this though, and you both knew that. Even as he wrestled with the urge to grab hold of you and pull you in for a kiss, even though he wanted so badly to know just how you’d taste- fuck. He didn’t want to embarrass himself any more than he already had. So instead of giving in, he bit the inside of his cheek and turned away from you then, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to ignore the ache as his erection pressed into the coarse fabric of his pants with every ragged breath that he took.

Unbeknownst to him you were fighting the exact same demons mere inches away. The air had grown thick between you, almost heavy with the weight of the tension in it. There was a long moment of hesitation before you pressed lightly into his back. Huddling together for warmth now seemed to be a blessing and a curse.

Your shallow breaths against the nape of his neck were driving him crazy, the warm air ghosting across his skin a stark contrast to the chill in the room around you. It had a cascading effect on his senses. Goosebumps rose against the skin of his broad shoulders beneath his shirt and down his arms. He shifted slightly, biting back another hiss when his clothes rubbed against him. You could feel the tension of the muscles in his back rippling beneath his shirt, his breath coming out in shallow huffs. Your sensitive hearing easily picked up on the way his breathing shook.

Fuck it, you thought quickly. This was all too much. If it all went south, in the worst case scenario you were almost certain that you could find your way back to the surface yourself somehow or die trying. If the sting of rejection came after what you said next you would find it within yourself to push it down and accept it. Neither of you could stew in this awkward limbo state any longer.

“I… if you need help getting back to sleep,” you started, your voice tickling against the hair at the nape of his neck when you spoke, “I could uh… help you out…” you offered, voice trailing off at the end as you started to rethink your words. But it was too late now, and the proposition was out in the open.

Laios stilled completely at your words, his body tensing up even further when the offer dangled between you. He wasn’t sure it would be wise to accept, if he even could accept it at first. Part of him wasn’t even sure he’d heard you correctly, were you really offering what his mind wanted to believe that you were?

After a moment of stunned silence, he rolled back around to face you. Even in the dark you could see the pupils of his honeyed eyes were blown wide with lust.

“Are you sure?” He asked quietly, searching your eyes for any hint of hesitation or reservation.

Your body acted before you were aware of it, lightly pressing closer against him beneath the covers of the sleeping bags but still resisting the urge to touch him intimately before you heard his answer.

“If you’re comfortable with it,” you replied, tone still hushed beneath the cries of the storm outside, “and if you want me to.”

He hesitated as he weighed his options in his mind. His will was stronger than most, but his resolve in that moment had worn paper thin. As your sweet voice beckoned him he took in the softness of your features, those cute little ears twitching above your head as you waited for his response… How could he resist?

“...I would like that.” The blond murmured sheepishly, his voice almost catching in his throat as he melted into you where your skin pressed against his.

You let out a breath of relief, your shoulders relaxing then as you slid your hand down between you. He inhaled sharply when your palm pressed itself against the heat in the front of his trousers and you could feel the way he pulsed beneath you in response to the touch. Skilled fingers slid gently along the length of his cock through the fabric as he bit the inside of his cheek.

Your eyes widened slightly, a light gasp breaking the silence from you as you felt the less than humble girth between his hips.

His body reacted involuntarily to the touch, leaning into it slightly as he squeezed his eyes shut in embarrassment once more. Everything else had already begun to fade away as he focussed on the warmth of your palm against him, the length straining desperately against the cloth. Fingers rubbed slowly against the outside of the rough fabric before your hand gently squeezed around the tallman’s cock and earned another shuddering breath from him.

Hazy lust filled eyes focussed on the fluffy ears atop your head, too shy to look down at your face as he trembled beneath your touch. His hands balled into fists as you began to massage his shaft, brows knitting together as he fought to hold in a moan. He wanted to touch you so badly, your skin beckoning to him like a siren's song as he leaned into your touch.

The way he pulsed against every little flick and drag of your fingers had your mouth watering in anticipation. Still, you wanted to see him relax, your hand sliding up and down slowly against his length.

The simple friction of your palm against him shouldn’t have sent him into the tailspin that it did, his hips beginning to shift instinctively against your touch. The slow massage of your grip against him only served to make his body ache even more. Laios finally started to let go, a low moan reverberating out against the night air.

“There we go…” you sighed, lightly squeezing him through his pants once more in appreciation.

As he began to give in fully to the pleasure you were giving him the sounds he made were nothing short of heavenly. Whimpers and whines began to slip out more frequently as you touched him now. His hips rocked against you as the slow strokes of your hands stoked the flames of need within him.

You were acutely aware now more than ever of the close proximity, your lips mere inches apart as you started to fully stroke him through his pants. As much as you wanted to tease him more, it was plain as day on his face that he needed this, and you certainly couldn't say no. Silently, you cursed the fabric that hid his body from view.

He couldn’t help but thrust his hips up against your grasp, letting out another soft whine as a similar thought crossed his mind. He needed more contact, the saccharine sound of your coos coupled with the sensation of your hand rubbing his cock through his pants was only making him more desperate as another whine escaped him.

Slowly, your fingers trailed up the front of his pants, earning a disappointed little huff from your comrade at the loss of your touch. Your breaths trembled as your hand came to rest at the closure on the front of his pants.

Your eyes searched for him in the darkness, looking into his with sincerity as you breathed out a soft “May I?”

“God, yes. ” He whined out.

Even if he wanted to he couldn’t have kept the desperation out of his voice if he tried. It was more than enough to have your hands undoing the fastening on his pants with ease. His hips lifted up off the bed so you could help him shimmy out of the garments just enough.

His cock sprung free from the restrictive fabric and he let out a contented sigh of relief. It twitched in your hands, earning a soft hum from you as you wrapped your fingers around the base of his shaft.

The sudden release felt like heaven, he couldn’t stop the shudder that ran through his body as you began to stroke him again. That delicious drag of your hand against him, skin finally on skin. Your touch was gentle though, it made him want to press forward even more, his hips bucking up against your grip as a low moan ripped from his throat again. The touch was akin to a jolt of electricity through his system and as he stole another glance down at your pretty face he couldn’t help but admit to himself that perhaps it was more than the friction that had gotten him worked up.

You lifted your hand and spat gently into it before reaching back down and spreading the warm slick against his length. His breath hitched at the new sensation, his chest heaving slightly with every breath he took.

You sighed happily as you felt another grateful pulse beneath your grip. Your thumb swiped lightly over the bead of pre-cum that drooled out of the needy pink tip of his cock while you began to pump him slowly. Hot breath fanned against his neck, your gaze flickering back up to his handsome face. If Laios noticed the way your eyes glanced down to his parted lips, he didn't show it. He was too engrossed in the almost torturous pace you’d set for him.

Every instinct within him screamed for you to pick up the pace, to hurry up and relieve the tension building up in his body as your grip tightened around his shaft. He let out a groan, knowing that in actuality he wouldn’t dare try and rush you, wanting to hang on to the intoxicating feeling of this intimate moment for as long as he possibly could.

“Can I kiss you?” He whimpered out, looking down at you with a pitiful expression on his flushed face.

He’d hardly had to finish his sentence before your lips were on his, eagerly swallowing his moans while you jerked him off under the covers. The noise you made was somewhere between a moan and a growl, your sharp canines grazing against his lips while your free hand moved up to grip the mess of short blonde hair at the nape of his neck.

Your kiss was returned eagerly, his eyes fluttering shut as he basked in the perfect taste of your lips. The low hum of Laios’ moans vibrated up from deep within his chest while his hips bucked lazily with every pump of your fist against him. When you finally broke apart he was panting and whining as he thrusted up into your hand.

“You’re so handsome like this,” you purred, pressing kisses against his jaw before he needily pulled you back into him for another hungry kiss.

One of his strong hands tangled its fingers in the locks of your messy hair, the tips of his digits gently putting pressure on your scalp as he kissed you with newfound passion. His cheeks burned at your compliment, unable to keep from giving in. He would proudly drink up every ounce of pleasure you were offering him. You returned the kiss full force, every flick of your wrist dragging more of those beautiful sounds from his lips.

Laios had always found himself weak in the knees whenever you’d compliment him, but he’d done his best to ignore it for the sake of the mission. Your kind words had such an effect on him but right now your praise felt like so much more. Something about the way you pressed into him, your fingers grasping at his hair, soft lips on his, it made him want nothing more than to hear what sort of sounds you might make beneath him instead.

As if on cue, his fingers grazed lightly against the base of your ears, earning a whimper against his lips as you kissed. The soft fur was just as incredible beneath his fingertips as he imagined. He'd wanted to feel those cute little wolf ears from the moment he'd laid eyes on them and now was the perfect opportunity. It was his turn to make you weak in the knees, the comfortable intimacy of the touch had every thought melting out of your mind.

At your moans he couldn’t help but thrust a little harder into your fist. But you slowed down, the slick strokes of your palm all but stopping as your fist tightened around the base of his shaft.

Selfishly, you wanted to drag this out for as long as you could, to milk this moment for everything that it was worth while moans tangled together between you two. His tongue dipped past your soft lips, sinking into your mouth and running along yours as he continued to play with your ears.

You found yourself pressing your thighs together, hips shifting as arousal pooled within you, a futile attempt to get some sort of friction against where you needed it most. The taste of his lips against yours was almost enough on its own to have your eyes rolling back into your head. But the way his fingers teased and tugged at your sensitive ears had your mind swirling with lust as your thumb swept across the crown of his cock once more, smearing precum and saliva against the heated skin.

He groaned again at your teasing, breaking the kiss with a pant as he rutted up into your fist. His head was spinning from the way you touched him, all five of his senses on fire. The way your hand squeezed around his cock, your soft lips on his, those cute expressions when he played with your ears, after having gone so long without a moment to relieve himself it was almost too much and not enough all at the same time. He could feel the soft triangles of nerves and fur twitching and tensing beneath his hand, your whimpers against his mouth were already getting desperate.He needed more of you, more of those sweet sounds you were giving him.

“Please,” you begged, the word leaving your lips like a prayer before you’d realised what you were even saying. The storm didn’t matter anymore, the only pressing issue was the burning desire that threatened to consume you both in an instant. Your grip stiffened around him then as he fucked your hand lazily.

He couldn’t help the lusty moan that drawled out of him when you tightened up. Laios could only hope that the cover of darkness hid how shameless he looked then, adorned by your touch. He couldn’t think, couldn’t focus with what you were doing to him. He could hardly keep his composure as your name left his mouth in another desperate whine. The pleasure zipped its way up his spine as his head fell back against the pillows again, eyes fluttering shut.

A strong hand wrapped around your waist, practically pulling you on top of him. His mouth hung open, lips parted to let out the needy sighs and whines that spilled out as his brows knit together.

He looked like the most delectably sinful work of art you’d ever laid eyes on, every marble statue and delicate oil painting paling in comparison. It was difficult not to feel giddy at the fact that you were the only one who got to see such a beautiful sight.

You couldn’t help yourself but to lean down and press kisses along the exposed skin of his neck, canines lightly brushing against the sensitive spots on his neck while you lightly nipped and sucked at his pale flesh.

He could hardly keep his composure, more desperate whimpers leaving his mouth as he was consumed by desire. His heart pounded in his chest like the beat of a drum when you finally straddled him, soft thighs splayed open across his as you worked his cock.

His hand gripped your hips with a newfound possessiveness. The warmth of your body pressed against him had him completely drunk on lust and the throbbing between his legs that you’d been skillfully building up with every little flick of your wrist was becoming unbearable.

Laios couldn’t stop himself from rutting up against you, his cock rubbing up against your crotch as he held you down against his body. A shudder wracked through him when he felt the tip rub against your heat through the layers of fabric that separated you two.

He let out a soft curse at the feeling, your warmth only teasing him more as you let out a little cry of pleasure. Your hips jolted forwards against him involuntarily, searching for a little more pressure when he bumped against you.

“Ah…” You sighed, your grip on his length slipping when he shuddered beneath you.

The little mewls you were already starting to let out as you ground against him were more compelling than any siren’s call. His hips jutted forward again as he started to thrust against you in time with the tantalising roll of your hips. The way your body moved on top of him was hypnotising. If there was a heaven, this is what it must have felt like. He needed to get his hands on your skin, to make you feel even half the pleasure you were giving him. His breathing was growing haggard as he fought the urge to rip your shorts in half just so he could have you right then and there.

“Hah, please, ” he panted, “please, can I touch you?” The way his golden eyes stared up at you, wide and pleading, would have been enough on its own to have your heart racing.

Your eyes were half lidded as you looked down at him, your tail swishing lightly across his thighs in anticipation. Pride swelled in your chest at the mess you’d reduced him to in just a few short minutes, though you were no better.

“Please.” You echoed, proving your desire with another needy roll of your hips against his length.

Your gorgeous form settled prettily in his lap, eagerly awaiting his next move. Gods above, he would do anything for you.

The tallman’s breath hitched in his throat at your plea, his mouth drying up when he looked up into your eyes. His hands trembled lightly against your thighs as he moved to hook his fingers in the waistband of your shorts.

“Are you sure?” He stammered out.

Once this line was crossed it could never be uncrossed, there would be no going back. Hell, he didn’t think he wanted to. If he could lay with you every night for the rest of his life he’d die satisfied. Thankfully for him, your reassurance was all he needed to let loose.

“I need you.” You breathed.

The intoxicating drag of his length against your clothed warmth had you both tensing up with the desire for more. You craved him like you’d never craved another’s touch before, the burning ache within you would be satisfied with nothing more than being filled by his girth.

Simultaneously, at your needy whines he found himself on the verge of losing control, his hips grinding up against you with a little more force before he finally pulled the garments off of you. His knuckles white as he clenched the fabrics in his hand and discarded them beside himself on the bed. The pressure, the lust, all of it was too much.

His strong hands grasped your hips again for a moment as he stared at you in awe, the soft tufts of fur on your body perfectly framing your heat. If it had been any other time and place he’d have had you on your back beneath him in seconds, diving his face between your thighs just to get a taste of what you had to offer. The slick glint of your own arousal shone slightly in the dim lighting, he’d have to wait for another time if he got the chance. Right now he needed this.

One hand slid between your thighs to stroke you gently, his gaze laser focussed on the way you twitched and trembled beneath his touch. The sweet sound of your moans filled his ears and he couldn’t take it anymore. He lifted you up again, aligning his cock with your entrance before slipping inside. Laios didn’t want to waste a second longer without your skin against his.

The head of his cock split you open with ease and had you whimpering at the sting of the stretch while you sunk down on him. Thighs tensed as you sucked his tip inside of you, sending his eyes rolling back into his head.

You groaned, “sh-shit… ah.. S’too big..” You whined.

Despite your protest, he watched as you circled your hips above him, wanting more of that painful pleasure as you bounced slightly in his lap. Silently, you begged your body to get used to the feeling, but on the other hand you didn’t think you ever could… hell, maybe you didn’t want to. The burn of his size was delicious in its own way.

“Mmm-ngh!” He grunted, the tips of his fingers digging into the meat of your thighs. His nails threatened to bite into the skin there as he tried hard not to buck his hips up into you. As much as his body craved the feeling of bottoming out inside you he refused to cause you any further discomfort.

“Fu-huhhck.. It’ll… it’ll get easier, I promise.” Laios cooed, reaching a hand down to stroke you again to ease the pain.

Your head lolled back against your shoulder as you tried to take him deeper, the ridge of his cockhead sinking in past the first ring of muscle when you began to relax for him. The whimpers and groans already leaving your mouth had goosebumps rising against his pale flesh again as his own whines trembled past his lips. His dick pulsed inside of you, sending more fluid leaking out against where you were connected.

“Oh my god,” You groaned, feeling his precum mixing with yours and dripping down the inside of your thighs.

His breaths were ragged as he tried to maintain his composure for your sake, but all was lost as soon as you commented on the way he twitched inside of you. With a grunt, he let his hips surge forward the slightest bit, sinking deeper inside. The knowledge that his cock was leaking inside of you, that you could feel every twitch and every pulse of his veins in your heat, it stirred something primal within him. His fingers tensed against you while he fought the urge to rut up into you like an animal.

Suddenly, your hand joined his in stroking yourself, fingers teasing the engorged area of your arousal. His eyes were glued to you then, watching the way you struggled to take him. Your hips rolled up and down against the first few inches, trying to take just a little bit more.

“That’s right..” he panted, watching with half lidded eyes as you touched yourself above him. His voice was a low purr against your eardrums, his thumb rubbing little comforting circles into your hip as he drank in the beautiful sight before him. “You can take it… you’re already doing so well, just a little more, yeah?”

You nodded, cheeks burning at the praise as another inch sunk inside.

Laios' eyes darkened with a fierce hunger as he watched you work your fingers against your slick heat. The wet, rhythmic sounds of your shallow thrusting blended with the heavy symphony of breathless moans and urgent whimpers filling the room. The old wooden bedframe groaned beneath your intertwined bodies, each creak adding a raw, primal beat to the music of your desire.

It was all music to his ears. His pupils were blown wide, gaze locked on where you straddled him, lost in the sight of you. The scorching, tight sensation of your walls squeezing around him erased all coherent thought, leaving only a primal urge to fill you completely.

Barely three inches deep inside you, he was on the edge of sanity, teetering on the brink of losing control with every subtle shift and grind of your hips. Each tiny movement had him mesmerised, but when you whimpered his name with a desperate cry, he gasped, watching you sink further down on his cock. Every little movement you made had his gaze transfixed on you.

Your hands clenched into tight fists against the coarse fabric at the hem of his shirt, the material now messily bunched up around his waist. The friction of the cloth against your skin only heightened the intensity, adding another layer of sensation to the overwhelming pleasure that coursed through both of you.

His abdomen tensed and flexed beneath your hands as he held himself back. He gasped and shuddered, your body taking him so well as you practically sucked him in. Jaw clenched tight, he let out a soft groan of your name. For a brief moment his eyes squeezed shut, his needy whines only serving to further your attempts to take him all the way. The cold air of the room stung his skin where it touched him, heightening the sensation of your warm body pressed against his.

You were a whining mess already, the mixture of pain and pleasure going straight to your groin when you finally took him all the way down to the hilt. The slight curve of his dick had the head pressing firmly against the spot inside you that made your knees weak. He was finally sheathed inside you, pulsing and twitching like a live wire. Ironically, he was the one who wanted to start pounding into you like a dog in heat. His eyes rolled back again as he let out a guttural moan, the sound rippling up from somewhere deep in his chest. Laios wanted to stay composed, to keep himself in check… but the excitement coursing through his body had rendered him helpless against his own desires as he began to bounce you up and down in his lap.

The way he said your name echoed inside your head, somewhere between a plea for more and a low groan that rolled off the tip of his tongue. Your hands shook against the fabric of his shirt, your back arching overtop of him as you tried to catch your breath, a blessing he wouldn’t allow you as he bucked into you.

“Oh my god,” his voice was breathless. “Fff… ah- ‘m sorry,” He whined, the friction sending a ripple of ecstasy down his spine.

His grip tightened on your hips, holding you tightly against his pelvis. That brief moment of weakness had earned a wanton cry of pleasure from your lips. He let another shaking breath out, trying to compose himself, he was reminded of the way your face contorted when he pushed inside. His eyes shut again as he took a deep breath.

Once the initial shock wore off for you it was heavenly. The sound of his ragged pants and whines egging you on as you started to move against him, fighting the urge to melt into his body at the pleasure. Your legs were quivering now as he thrusted up against you again, trying with all your might to keep enough of a level head to move back down against him.

One of his hands reached down to massage your thigh as he cooed soft praises up at you. When you’d started to move all bets were off, his hips thrusting up eagerly to meet your movements while his other hand held your hips possessively. The slow rhythm you’d set was perfect, but he needed more .

“‘S’okay, right?” he huffed out, looking up at you with what could only be described as adoration. He wanted you to enjoy this just as much as he did.

All you could manage was a hurried nod and a whimper.

“That’s it… yeah,” He groaned, watching as you held onto him for dear life.

Your features contorted in ecstasy as he began to roll up against you, his shallow thrusts helping to establish that slow rhythm between you for the time being.

That smooth voice had you clenching around him, body shivering. The wind rushed by outside and fell on deaf ears, the only thing that mattered to either of you right then was this perfect moment. Your body spread open on his dick while he fucked you gently.

“So good,” he babbled, mostly to himself as his head fell back against the pillows. “Oh my god,” Laios groaned, his words punctuated by the slow, steady roll of his hips up against you as he ground his cock against that sensitive spot inside you.

Another cry of pleasure left your throat, the sound hanging in the open air between you as you began to slide yourself up and down along his length. His words had you dizzy, already drunk on his touch as your legs shook on either side of him. Your eyes fluttered shut, trying to maintain a steady rhythm, but the continuous drag against your sweet spot had your eyes glazing over and he wasn’t about to stop any time soon. When another cry of his name left your lips he groaned again. The sound was smooth and hoarse all at the same time, his hands tensing on your hips.

Your body was practically milking him already while you rode him. In a perfect world he could go on like this all night, just laying back and letting you take control… but he could see the fatigue in your movements. Your eyebrows knit together, hands shaking against his abs. Any semblance of modesty or bashfulness had left him as the hands that had rested on your hips slipped below you to grip the fat of your ass with a grunt.

In an instant your back was flush against the bed, hips pinned down by his capable hands.

Laios aligned himself with your entrance once more, pushing himself in all the way to the hilt in one fluid motion as he kissed your cheeks to soothe the ache of the stretch. A hand pressed against his cheek, golden eyes looking lovingly into your own as he smiled down at you.

“I can take it from here, okay?” His voice was soft right before he pressed another kiss against your forehead. He had you pinned beneath him as he littered kisses across your heated skin. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back like this, not for long anyway.

“Ngh… o-off,” you whimpered, your fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt. If he was going to fuck you like this you wanted to see it all, every tense and flex of his thick muscles above you until the image was locked in your brain. “I wanna see you.”

There was a moment of hesitation at your plea, Laios taking in the gentle tone and the way your ears laid flat against the top of your head as you begged so cutely underneath him. He’d never felt so wanted in his life, and the way you clung to him had him half convinced this might have been some sort of dream. Nonetheless he’d shed his shirt in an instant immediately afterwards, his sturdy frame on full display for you now as he sat back up between your thighs.

Your heart nearly stopped in your chest as you watched him pull his shirt off over his head. Your eyes greedily drank in the sight before you, the way his bare chest heaved with every shaking breath, his abdominal muscles tensing beneath his skin as he rocked back into you. He couldn’t help the smile on his lips when he caught you staring.

His lips were on yours then, capturing them in another hungry kiss as he began to thrust into you with long, slow strokes. Your legs squeezed against his hips, tongues tangling together in an intricate dance to the beat of a song only the two of you could hear.

Soft fingers pressed into the firm flesh spanning his broad shoulders as you whined into the kiss.

Laios practically growled then, something snapping inside of him when he felt the way your tail flicked against the side of his leg in approval. His head buried itself in the crook of your neck as he began to pick up the pace, grinding himself down against your tight heat.

Creaks and moans filled the room now, the wet sound of skin slapping against skin coming in to join the chorus. Your arousal and pre-cum dripped between the two of you, the viscous translucent fluids stretching between your bodies and connecting the two of you in strings every time he began to pull back. The room was heavy with the scent of sex, all initial reservations forgotten as he slammed into you.

“Ah!” You gasped, claws biting into the skin of his back accidentally when he rammed into the spot that had your vision blurring again.

“Fuck!” He growled again, his teeth scraping against your shoulder in retaliation. “You’re so fucking hot… taking me so well.”

You practically squealed beneath him, body clenching around his cock with a grip that threatened to make him cum on the spot. The headboard banged against the wall with the force of his thrusts, his grip on you tightening possessively. All you could do was gasp and whimper beneath him as you tried to keep yourself coherent.

The way he fucked you was animalistic, his hips grinding down against you just enough to rub at your arousal trapped between your bodies. Sweat began to bead on his brow as he lost control, those primal urges within him flooding to the surface as he rutted into you.

Your body tensed and shook under him as he used his grip on your hips to deepen his thrusts. His usual soft amber eyes looked more golden, more wolf like than your own as he looked down at you.

Laios grunted as he rolled forwards against you again and sent your claws dragging against his back. You clung to him desperately, this carnal need worse than any heat you’d ever gone through. He had you panting and gasping with the force of his relentless thrusts, the bed creaking and slamming against the wall as you both lost control.

“Fuck, fuck, please! D-don’t stop” you sobbed out.

He didn’t think it was possible for your body to grip him any tighter but every time he pulled out it felt like you were sucking him back in.

He growled in response, his hand reaching down to stroke you in time with his relentless thrusts as he felt the tension starting to build in his abdomen. Your cute little squeaks and whines went straight to his cock. He couldn’t form a proper sentence if he tried.

You were babbling now, begging for more as you started to come undone around him. The perfect arch of your back off the bed pressed you even tighter against his body and he took it upon himself to hold you there as he fucked you through your orgasm.

It had you seeing white, a sob of pleasure wracked your body. Thighs clenched around his hips, your moans shaking. The blond watched as you came, your head lolling back against your shoulders in post orgasmic bliss. He savoured the way your body tightened around him.

His fingernails dug into your hips as he pistoned into you. “C-close…” He grunted into your neck.

In your bliss, you begged him to finish inside. The debauched whimpers setting his nerves on edge and his pulse skyrocketing. Your pleas filling his head as he ground against your already overstimulated heat. Your cum dribbled down against his skin as he pinned you back down, growling into your neck as he reached his peak with a loud curse. The sound was muffled by your soft flesh against his lips and teeth as he shuddered above you. His hips jutted forward and slammed you against the bed as you milked him for everything he was worth, his cock twitching and sputtering inside you.

“Ngh! Fuck…” He whined. His hands rubbed lightly against your sides, lightly squeezing your ass one more time as he stayed inside.

“Hah,” you chuckled tiredly, lightly stroking along the marks you’d left on his back. “I knew you were pent up but I didn’t realise you were that pent up,” you teased, turning your head to the side so you could kiss his jaw.

“‘S not my fault,” He whined, nuzzling further into your neck. After all, how could it be his fault alone when you had him so wound up he could barely think straight?

This earned a little giggle from you as he rolled off of you, coming to rest at your side in the bed. The wind had calmed outside, the musty scent of the old room long replaced with the stench of arousal and sweat. A part of him couldn’t believe what you’d just done, and in a dungeon no less…

The sight of you blissed out next to him was enough to make him forget his lamentations entirely. Your soft ears tickled his jaw as you nuzzled closer, arms clinging to him as fatigue took over again. He reached down and pulled the sleeping bags back up over you, not wanting to risk the cold creeping back in again.

“You’re so cute like this,” He smiled, the fingers of his free hand gently running up through your hair to stroke your ears lightly.

“Ngh… n-no, shut up,” You whined.

It was a weak line and it was obvious you didn’t mean it. Even Laios could have told you that from your tone alone, but the way your tail wagged against your side of the bed had him beaming.

“Hey, I mean it,” He murmured, his hands tracing lightly against your skin and the soft patches of fur on it.

You kept hiding your face regardless, embarrassed by the compliment. Your lips pressed gently against his shoulders, peppering kisses there in a silent apology for the claw marks as exhaustion crept into your bones.

“You’re gorgeous.” He whispered, leaning down and to plant a soft kiss against the dewy skin of your forehead. He took it one step further and reached over to lightly stroke your tail. His golden eyes were half lidded now and filled with all the adoration in the world as he looked down at you.

“We should get back to sleep,” you sighed, melting into the way he stroked your hair.

Even just mere hours ago he couldn’t imagine having you this at ease and relaxed in his arms. He gently adjusted himself so he was curled around you too, your limbs tangled together as you drifted off to sleep.

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st4rfckerz · 3 months ago

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Ski Lodge | Clark Kent x Reader

word count: 2.8k

warnings: oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, slowish build up

summary: a holiday trip to a ski lodge takes a turn when an unexpected encounter with an ex reignites old emotions

a/n: happy holidays!!! i conjured this up when i was listening to last christmas while decorating my tree so i hope you all enjoy 😛

The frost-kissed windshield reflected the hazy glow of string lights lining the quiet mountain road. The car’s heater hummed warmly as laughter echoed from the back seat, where your best friends debated which cabin room had the best view. A burst of snowflakes swirled in the air as you passed a wooden sign that read “Welcome to Evergreen Peaks Resort.”

You leaned forward, adjusting your scarf, heart fluttering with excitement. The promise of cozy nights by the fire, thrilling runs down the slopes, and a week of laughter with your favorite people felt almost too perfect. Outside, a landscape straight out of a postcard sprawled before you: towering pines draped in fresh snow, the jagged peaks of the mountains piercing the pale blue sky, and a lodge glowing with golden light at the base of the slopes.

The crisp mountain air hit you as soon as you stepped out of the van, your boots crunching against the snow-packed ground. Your group hustled toward the lodge’s main office, arms full of bags and faces red from the cold. The towering pine trees and faint sound of laughter from distant skiers created the perfect holiday scene.

Inside, the warmth of the check-in lobby wrapped around you like a cozy blanket. A massive stone fireplace crackled to one side, and the scent of pine and cinnamon lingered in the air. The receptionist confirmed it was as incredible as it sounded: multiple bedrooms, a hot tub, a fire pit, and a view of the mountains. With keys in hand, your group set out, eager to see it for yourselves.

As you trudged up the snowy path toward your cabin, dragging your bags behind you, the warm glow of lights spilling through the windows was the first thing you noticed. Laughter and muffled voices filtered through the frosty air, carrying down the trail and cutting through the silence of the woods.

You knocked twice on the sturdy wooden door, and almost immediately, the noise inside quieted. A moment later, the door swung open to reveal the rest of your friends, their faces lighting up when they saw you.

The group erupted in laughter and greetings as you all spilled in, shaking off the cold and wrapping each other in hugs. The energy was infectious, and for a moment, you felt completely at ease, surrounded by the people you cared about most.

But then, as you pulled back from a hug, your eyes caught on someone standing at the edge of the room. Clark.

You didn’t know he’d be here. He looked just as stunned to see you, though he quickly masked it with a polite, awkward smile. Unsure of what else to do, you mirrored it, your heart racing as you struggled to process his unexpected presence.

Around you, your friends carried on, laughing and catching up as though nothing had shifted. But for you, the air felt different, charged and heavy with the weight of unspoken history. Clark’s gaze lingered on yours for a moment longer before someone else pulled his attention, and you turned back to your friends, forcing yourself to join in the chatter.

Afterwards, the cabin was filled with the soft glow of string lights and the comforting crackle of the fireplace.

The scent of pine mingled with the faint sweetness of hot cocoa, and laughter echoed as your friends debated the placement of ornaments and tangled tinsel. You found yourself standing near Clark, more by coincidence than intention, as you reached into the same box of ornaments. The two of you had barely exchanged a few words all evening, careful to stay on opposite sides of the conversation whenever possible.

“Who keeps putting all the ornaments on one side?” someone joked from across the room.

You laughed softly, distracted, and reached for another ornament just as Clark did the same. Your hands brushed—a fleeting touch that sent an unexpected jolt through you.

“Sorry,” you muttered quickly, pulling back, your cheeks warming.

“Sorry,” he echoed, his voice just as quiet. For a brief moment, your eyes met, and the tension was palpable, unspoken words hanging in the air.

But before either of you could say anything more, someone called out for another string of lights, breaking the moment. You turned away, your heart racing, and focused on hanging the ornament in your hand, pretending nothing had happened.

As the night wore on, the lively chatter and laughter that had filled the cabin slowly faded. One by one, your friends began heading off to their rooms, their goodnights accompanied by the muffled sound of footsteps on wooden floors. The soft glow of the Christmas tree lights cast a warm hue over the now-quiet living room, and the fire in the hearth had burned down to glowing embers.

You lingered in the kitchen, busying yourself with small tasks—wiping down the counter, adjusting a stray mug on the table, and rearranging a bowl of leftover snacks. The cabin felt different now, quieter, almost too quiet, and the stillness wrapped around you like a heavy blanket.

You’d stayed up longer than everyone else, lost in your thoughts, but now the exhaustion was starting to catch up with you. You reached for the door to what you thought was your room and pushed it open, stepping inside.

The soft glow of a bedside lamp lit the space, and your heart stopped when you saw Clark sitting on the edge of the bed. He stood up abruptly, clearly surprised.

Your cheeks burned as you froze in place, the realization hitting you hard. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. This isn’t my room,” you stammered, backing toward the door. “I’ll just leave.”

As you fumbled to back out of Clark’s room, mortified, you reached for the door handle. But just as you were about to close it behind you, his voice stopped you.

“Wait,” he said, his tone soft but firm enough to freeze you in place.

You hesitated, the door still slightly ajar, peeking back into the room. Clark had stood up from the bed, his expression a mix of something you couldn’t quite place.

He cleared his throat, glancing briefly at the floor before meeting your gaze. “How are you?” he asked, the words coming out awkwardly, as though he wasn’t sure if he should be saying them at all.

For a second, you were too surprised to respond. The question felt heavier than it should have, loaded with all the things left unsaid between you. “I’m fine,” you finally replied, your voice cautious. “How about you?”

He gave a small shrug, his lips twitching into a faint, self-conscious smile. “I’m good. Just… didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Yeah,” you murmured, gripping the edge of the door. “Me neither.”

The silence that followed felt both unbearable and strangely comforting, and for a moment, neither of you seemed to know what to do next. Clark stepped further into the room, his hands tucking into his pockets.

“This place is great, isn’t it?” he said, his tone casual but slightly awkward, like he wasn’t sure how to start a conversation.

You nodded, leaning lightly against the doorframe. “Yeah, it’s pretty nice. The tree, the fireplace, it’s like something out of a postcard.”

Clark takes a few steps towards you, looking you over for a moment before speaking, his voice low but clear. “You look good,” he said simply, the words carrying a quiet sincerity that caught you off guard.

You blinked, tilting your head slightly as you studied him. “Thanks, you do too.” you admitted, the words slipping out before you could second-guess them.

For a moment, the air between you felt charged, the playful banter giving way to something heavier, more electric. You swallowed, unsure of what to say, and Clark tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that familiar, maddening smile. His closeness was enough to make your breath hitch, but before you could react, he moved slowly, reaching past you.

The soft click of the door closing behind you broke the quiet, and your heart skipped a beat as you realized he had gently shut it, leaving the two of you alone in his room.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice quieter than you intended, your pulse racing.

His eyes didn’t leave yours as he leaned down slightly, almost matching your height. The smile on his lips softened, but his tone remained calm, almost teasing. “Just making sure we don’t wake anyone up.”

Without warning, he closed the distance. His hand came up, brushing against your arm before settling firmly on your waist, pulling you closer as his lips met yours in a strong, deliberate kiss.There was nothing tentative about it. The kiss was bold, filled with a fiery urgency that left no room for hesitation.

You kissed back just as fervently, your hands coming up to grip the front of his shirt, anchoring yourself to him. Your tongue darted out, tracing the seam of his lips, and he groaned into the kiss, opening for you. His tongue slid against yours, hot and slick, and you could taste the sweetness of his mouth. It was dizzying, the way he kissed you, like he was trying to devour you. Like he wanted to consume you whole.

Clark's hands gripped your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he carried you to his bed. He laid you down gently, his body covering yours, his hips nestling between your legs. His lips never left yours, the kiss growing more urgent, more demanding. His hand slid under your shirt, his palm warm and rough against the smooth skin of your back. He stroked up your side, his thumb brushing the side of your breast, making you gasp into his mouth.

Clark's lips trailed down your neck, his tongue darting out to taste your skin. He kissed along your collarbone, his teeth grazing the spot he knew drove you crazy. You could feel the heat of his mouth, the dampness of his tongue, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. His hands slid down your sides, gripping your hips, holding you in place as he lowered himself further.

Clark's hands slid down your body, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your pajama pants. You lifted your hips, helping him, until he could slide them off completely, leaving you bare before him. He settled between your legs, his hands sliding up your calves, your inner thighs, his touch teasing. He leaned in, his breath ghosting over your panty clad pussy, making you shiver.

His nose brushed the damp cloth that covered your most private part as he took a long, deep breath. He inhaled in your scent, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he savored the aroma of your arousal. A low growl rumbled in his chest.

“Missed her.” he murmured to himself before leaning and pressing a kiss to your clothed cunt, his lips moving against the damp cotton. He kissed you there, his mouth open and eager, his tongue flicking out to taste you through the barrier of your underwear.

Clark frantically yanked your panties down, tossing them carelessly to the side. Before the fabric even hit the floor, he had thrown your legs over his broad shoulders and dove in face first, burying himself between your thighs. You gasped as his tongue, hot and slick, dragged through your folds in one long, slow lick. He groaned at the taste of you, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips as he held you in place. His tongue circled your clit, flicking and stroking the sensitive bud, before suckling on it greedily.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, gripping the short strands tightly as you pulled him closer, urging him on. The sting of your nails digging into his scalp made him moan against your folds. He responded eagerly to your unspoken demand, his tongue delving deeper, thrusting harder into your fluttering walls.

Clark's hand slid up your body, cupping the soft swell of your breast, his palm warm and rough against your skin. His fingers kneaded the tender flesh, squeezing gently, relishing the weight of it in his hand. He brushed his thumb over your nipple, feeling it pebble and harden at his touch. Your hand covered his, your fingers splaying over his knuckles.

As Clark's tongue continued swirling against your clit, he slid a single finger inside your dripping entrance, feeling your walls clench tight around the intrusion. He pumped it slowly, his finger curling and stroking your inner walls, teasing that sensitive spot deep inside. Your grip on his hair tightened, your nails digging into his scalp as you arched your back, pressing your breast more firmly into his kneading hand.

Soon he added a second finger, stretching you wider, filling you fuller. Clark could feel your walls starting to flutter and clench around his fingers, your body tensing as the pleasure mounted. He looked up at you, his dark eyes wide and blown, taking in the flush of your skin, your parted lips, the way your chest heaved with each ragged breath.

“I feel it.” he rumbled. He pumped his fingers faster, thrusting harder, curling them just right to stroke that special spot inside you. His tongue swirled around your clit, flicking and sucking, before taking it between his teeth and tugging gently.

“Cum on my face pretty, I know you can do it.” The nickname you hadn't heard in what felt like forever rolls off his tongue effortlessly, as though no time has passed at all. It all sent you spiraling over the edge, leaving completely lost in him. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing, your walls clamping down around Clark's fingers like a vice.

Clark groaned as he felt your release, your cum flooding his mouth, coating his fingers. He worked you through it, drawing out your pleasure until you collapsed back onto the bed, boneless and sated.

Before you could catch your breath, Clark was climbing up your body, his now exposed hips nestling between your thighs. He captured your mouth in a searing kiss, his lips moving demandingly against yours.

You could feel his hard cock pressing against your sensitive skin. With a single, powerful thrust of his hips, he buried himself inside you, filling you completely.

You cried out unexpectedly, your voice muffled against Clark's hand as he quickly covered your mouth, silencing your moan.

“I need you to stay quiet or I’ll stop.” he demanded. Clark felt your head nodding eagerly against his hand, your silent agreement to stay quiet. He could see the desperation in your eyes, the need for him to keep going, to not stop.

He began to move again, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm, his cock sliding in and out of your slick cunt. One hand remained over your mouth, muffling your increasingly loud moans, while the other gripped your hip, pulling you harder against him with each powerful thrust. Feeling him again was like stepping back into a memory you thought you’d forgotten, grounding you in a way that felt achingly familiar.

Clark's thrusts grew more erratic, his hips slamming against yours with a desperate, almost frenzied need. You could feel his length throbbing inside you, growing harder, hotter, as his climax approached.

“I'm close,” he grunted, his voice strained and tight, his breath coming in harsh pants against your neck. “Can't hold back much longer.”

His hand tightened on your hip, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulled you harder against him, driving himself impossibly deeper.

“Need to feel you cum with me.” he growled, his hips jerking and stuttering as he chased his release. You could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter inside you again, your body wound up like a bowstring ready to snap.

Clark buried himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing and throbbing as he came. At the same moment, your walls clamped down around him, fluttering and squeezing as your own orgasm crashed over you. He pressed his forehead against yours, his breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps as he spilled himself inside you, his cum hot and thick as it painted your walls.

Eventually, reality tugged at the edges of your quiet bubble. You both cleaned up quietly, exchanging a few soft smiles and glances.

Curling back up beside him, the warmth of his body against yours lulled you into a light, restless sleep. But as the early morning light began to filter through the curtains, you stirred, your chest tightening at the thought of anyone else finding out. Carefully, you slipped from his bed, dressing quickly and slipping out of his room before the rest of your friends woke, the soft click of his door closing behind you a bittersweet reminder of the night you’d shared.

#nai writes ୨୧ #clark kent blurb #clark kent drabble #clark kent x you #clark kent smut #clark kent x reader #clark kent #superman smut #superman #tom welling #smallville #st4rfckerz

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ok8oriska · 2 months ago

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sirius black x reader (sirius has the major hots for you, dude. just thought you should know)

Truth be told, Sirius has never been around when you’ve had to get ready. He’s sure that the girls would've said something about it if it were something remarkable: you take too long or you don’t take any time at all. A tease or jest. But he has no idea.

He’s thinking about it for some reason when he’s in your flat. You look done up but not enough to go out. Just enough to look good for yourself. He thinks about you a lot, he reckons.

You’re all together, the lot of you are crowded on your and Marlene’s couches. Drinks and snacks are being passed around, and Frank’s trying to get a game of poker started. Sirius is getting antsy, so he goes with you when you go to your room to fetch the cards.

You laugh when he offers his services, and he follows you down the hall. Knowing you, your room is about as neat as he would expect it to be. Nevertheless, you know where the cards are, and he sits on the bed waiting for you. He has the perfect view of your closet, a window to your soul. Sweaters and skirts and T-shirts he vaguely recollects. Then he sees it. That all too familiar dress. The dress you were wearing the night he decided he loved you.

“When was the last time we went dancing?” he asks. The cards are in your hands. You turn to look at him.

“I don’t remember,” you reply. Had it been that time that Dorcas spilled her drink down the back of Remus’s shirt? Or the night you’d all accidentally left James behind at the bar? “Too long.”

“I took dance lessons as a kid,” he tells you like it’s a secret. You hadn’t known but should’ve. He’s graceful in the way he moves, like a dancer—a cigarette sort of elegant.

“Do you know how to waltz?” you sit on the bed beside him.

“Oh, of course,” he says, his voice dipping on the borderline of posh. He stands abruptly, folding to bow before you, offering his hand like a true gentleman. “Milady.”

You stand and curtsy, accepting his hand. He leads you around the bedroom's length, twirling like Degas dancers. You giggle at the foolishness of it all. The two of you are still waltzing when James comes to find you.

“Oi, Fred Astaire. Are we playing cards or not?”

“Oh, don’t be jealous, James, you know you’re my best partner!”

Later, after several rounds of cards and even more drinks, Sirius takes both of your hands in his and makes you promise to wear the dress the next time you all go out.

“And save the first dance for me.”

#marauders #marauders x reader #marauders x you #marauders x y/n #sirius black #sirius orion black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #y/n #x reader

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wheresarizona · 4 days ago

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Learning to Live Part 35

summary: It’s your wedding night, and you’re finally alone with your husband in the privacy of your hotel suite. Not that you care much about privacy when things get hot and heavy on the balcony.

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

rating: E (18+!! No y/n, alternating POV, explicit smut, age gap (about ten years), two extremely horny newlyweds, Husband Javier Peña, dirty talk, oral sex (f + m receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie(s), rough sex, loud balcony sex, exhibitionism, romantic bathtub sex, BREEDING KINK (so much), praise kink, marriage kink, love kink, ring kink, drinking, being buzzed, love confessions, body worship, body insecurity (and Javier making you feel better), cuteness aggression, relationship insecurity, romantic comedy, domestic bliss, Javier with kids, a new POV)

word count: 20k+

a/n: Hey! I hope you remember me. Lmao Let me just say the last six months have been literal hell, and my life is still in shambles. On a positive note, I’m no longer working 60-80 hours a week, and I now have time to write. A couple of notes about this chapter. It takes place in January of 1999. With inflation, $150 in 1999 would be $300 today. A big thanks to @devineconjuring for betaing! Also, thank you to @juletheghoul for checking out my Spanish. Thank you for reading!

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

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The San Agustín de Laredo Historic District, located downtown along the banks of the Rio Grande River, was where the original city of Laredo was established in 1755. The area had many buildings dating back to the 1800s, like the district’s namesake, San Agustín Cathedral—a place you were familiar with as it happened to be the church Chucho and many members of your new family attended and was where he married your mother-in-law some forty-plus years ago.

La Posada was the fanciest hotel in town since it offered room service and had valet parking. It was just down and across the old, narrow brick road from your family’s church. The tall, white bell tower could even be seen looming high in the sky from the hotel’s entrance.

The inn, opened in 1961, had its own rich history as it occupied the original high school building that was constructed back in 1916 and was surrounded by some 19th-century structures—one was a former convent, and another was the Capitol building for the short-lived Republic of the Rio Grande. Most of the buildings in the area showed Spanish and Mexican influences, including the hotel, with its rounded arches at entryways and windows, thick stucco coating the outer walls, and many balconies, courtyards, columns, and elaborately carved doors.

Javi could’ve rented you a regular room at La Posada or even something at the Motel 6 off the highway, and you would’ve been happy as a clam. Your dear, sweet, wonderful husband, however, didn’t think either of those options was good enough for you and somehow managed to book the ever-elusive Presidential Suite; this was the room that a person with any kind of notoriety stayed in when they were passing through the Rio Grande Valley—think B-list celebrities, like Matthew McConaughey, or campaigning politicians.

Most of the hotel was only two stories high, but one stretch had a third level dedicated to a few luxury suites, including where you were staying. Through the double doors of your one-bedroom accommodations was a small entryway that led to the living room featuring a built-in bar—a shelf with a variety of liquors, a countertop with different kinds of glasses, and a cocktail shaker—a sitting area with an entertainment system, and French doors that opened to a private balcony that had views of Mexico across the river. There was a kitchenette, a four-person dining table, and a half bath. Through another set of double doors, the bedroom had a massive two-postered king-size bed, an en suite containing an oversized whirlpool tub, and a shower that could easily fit two people. Every room had beamed ceilings, the wall connected to another suite was made of brick, the color scheme of everything stuck to earthy tones that complemented the exposed beams and wooden furniture, and the art on the walls depicted beautiful river scenery.

No matter how many times you asked, your husband refused to reveal how much two nights in such splendor put him back.

And here you were in the bedroom, you and Javi stripped of your formal attire on the bed that he had the forethought to put a towel down on to keep things from getting too messy. You could not stop yourself from loudly moaning at how good it was; your husband had you in heaven with how he was filling you up, and you were finally at the point of feeling stuffed.

He was beside you, so close your bodies touched. “Yeah?” Javi purred. "You like that? You want more?"

You had to swallow before you could speak, shaking your head as you replied, “God, it’s so good, but I don’t want to get sick.”

“Okay, baby.” He kissed your cheek. “Relax while I clean up.”

Your husband carefully took the paper plate that you had practically licked clean of every crumb of wedding cake and the plastic fork you’d been using. Sitting crisscross on the mattress, you were dressed the same as Javier in nothing but a big, white, fluffy, hotel-provided bathrobe. On the towel in front of you were two more sets of dirtied plates and utensils from the leftovers the two of you ate, which Javi picked up as he got off the bed, heading out of the room to the small kitchen to dispose of them.

Earlier, when your husband revealed the surprise that you’d be staying in this suite for two nights, he told you all of the places in the room he planned to fuck you. From those promises, you imagined that he would toss you onto the bed upon arriving here and have his way with you. What actually happened was you got to the door, and Javi made you laugh when he lifted you over his shoulder like a caveman and carried you across the rented room’s threshold. He did throw you onto the big bed, where the two of you made out for some minutes. It just didn’t go any further because your sweetheart of a husband was aware you were hungry, and that made his biggest priority getting you comfortable and feeding you. So, the first thing he did was strip you out of your dress, the man unable to keep himself from taking a couple of minutes to admire the lacy thong you’d been wearing before he got you naked and had you join him in the shower. Aside from some groping and a little kissing, there was hardly any fooling around since he was so focused on taking care of you, which was sweet.

After that, Javi heated up some of the food from your wedding that the Murphys were kind enough to drop off prior to your arrival since they were staying at the same hotel, and the two of you had a little feast on the bed. Now you were nice and full, but not overly so that you felt sick, just enough that you were relaxed and a little sleepy—a food coma, if you will.

Many pillows were on the bed, and you moved some behind you to prop yourself up and lie back on. You grabbed your almost-empty complimentary bottle of water from the mattress beside you, unscrewed the cap, and took a drink.

“Cielito?” your husband called from the other room. “Do you want anything else to drink?”

The options included the bottle of champagne the hotel gifted you to celebrate your marriage, something from the living room bar, tap water, or the two of you could trek to the floor below to raid the vending machine in nothing but your robes and the slippers that were with them when you got there.

His question made you smile as you re-capped your water, stretching your arm to set the bottle on the bedside table. “No, babe,” you answered loud enough for him to hear. “I’m good—get back in here!”

He returned seconds later, his knees sinking into the mattress as he crawled onto it, smiling. Javi made his way over to you, and when he was at your left side, he wormed his arm behind your back, the other over your front to hold you close, his head nestled on your robe-covered chest. After getting comfortable, he sighed happily, closing his eyes with a little smile on his lips.

“Javi?”

“Yes, mi esposa (my wife)?”

The title made your spine tingle.

“God, I’ll never tire of you calling me that.”

“Good, ‘cause I’ll never tire of calling you it, my beautiful wife.” He quickly kissed over your heart, then rested his head on you again. “What were you gonna ask?”

“Oh, right. I know we should be having the dirtiest, nastiest sex known to man right now—” Javi snorted. “—but, since we just ate, are you cool with us hanging out for a little bit while the food digests?”

“Are you okay with cuddling, or am I hurting your stomach?” He lifted his arm off your belly.

“Cuddling sounds wonderful.” You lowered his arm back to where it was, resting your palm on his wrist.

“Okay.” He nuzzled you with his face. “Would you, uh, want to play with my hair…?”

“You can bet your cute little ass I do.” That made him chuckle. Your fingers pressed into his hair, playing with the soft strands and lightly scratching at his scalp, which earned you a noise from the back of his throat that came close to a purr.

“How was your day?” you asked.

“Fucking amazing. How about yours?”

“Fucking amazing, though talk about our bad sex luck—which reminds me, thank god your dad does his laundry on Saturdays. When we return the Mustang, I need you to distract him while I disinfect his laundry room.”

Javi groaned at the reminder of hearing his cousin and your best friend Robyn fucking in said room. “I don't wanna think about that.”

“And you think I do? I just don’t want our father coming across a condom wrapper, or god forbid a used condom, when he goes to do his chores. You know as well as I do that he’d tell his sisters, and it’d be the chisme (gossip) everyone is talking about Sunday at tía María’s.”

Your hand was still on his head, curling strands of his hair absentmindedly around your pointer finger.

“Los chismosos (The gossipers),” he grumbled. “Hold on, why do we care if he finds evidence someone fucked in there?”

“Um, because they’ll all assume it was us, and I do not feel like announcing to our entire family that I exclusively get rawed and creampied.”

“Why would you announce that…?”

“Do you want everyone to think we’re horny newlyweds who fucked in a laundry room because they couldn’t keep it in their pants until they got home?”

“We are horny newlyweds who couldn’t keep it in their pants until they got home. We almost did fuck in that laundry room.”

“Sure, except if we had, we wouldn’t have left behind any evidence. We’re not sloppy, thank you very much. I mean, I know a lot about Robyn’s sex life—like a lot—but I don’t know how discreet she is. So, we’ll need to make sure nothing was left behind.”

“I say, if they’re gonna be rude and leave shit behind, we just throw them under the bus…”

Your hand stopped moving in his hair.

“You mean the woman who convinced me to let you fuck my ass?” you asked. “The woman who’s held down the fort while you and I fooled around on my lunch countless times? The woman who covered while I got you off in an on-call room at the hospital? The woman who has had our backs so many times I’ve lost count? That’s the woman you wish to throw under a bus?”

There was a pause, and you heard him gulp.

“I’ll tell Pop that I think one of the Mustang’s tires is low on air,” he replied, “so he has to go with me outside while you take care of the crime scene.”

His response had you smiling. “Thank you,” you said, leaning forward to kiss his head.

You resumed playing with his hair.

“No need to thank me. You, uh, had some good points.”

“I know I did.”

“I haven’t had a chance to see your nails.” His hand moved to grab yours that’d been on his wrist, bringing it up to his face to look at your white-tipped fingernails. “Look at those, they’re fucking gorgeous.”

“Thank you. It’s a French manicure, and I thought they’d look really good with my dresses.”

“They’re perfect.” He kissed the back of your hand and continued holding it when his arm relaxed over your stomach again.

For a minute, it was quiet as you both lay there, your fingers slipping through the soft brown waves on his head in comfortable silence.

“Did I tell you what Olivia said before they left?” Javi asked.

“Um, I don’t think so?”

“She confused the fuck out of me—she thinks I play baseball.”

“What?”

“She gave me a pep talk…?” he said it like a question.

“A pep talk? About what?”

“Something about how she knows I secretly play baseball and that I shouldn’t be embarrassed I’m bad at it because I’ll get better the more I practice. To be honest, it was adorable, and I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I don’t play.”

“That is extremely random. Why would she think you play baseball?”

“I have no fucking clue. I’ve been thinking back on my conversations with her, and I don’t think we’ve ever talked about baseball.”

“Maybe she misremembered something or misunderstood something her parents said? No clue why Steve and Connie would be talking about you and baseball, though.”

“I don’t know, either. They’re both aware I’m a swimmer and played some soccer.”

“True. Who knows where Olivia got the idea.” You shrugged a shoulder.

“Yeah…”

“It’s gonna bother the fuck out of you until you figure it out, isn’t it?”

“A little.”

“We’ll ask Steve and Connie tomorrow at dinner, Detective Peña.” The Murphys were flying home the following evening, and the plan was to have an early dinner at the hotel restaurant before they left.

“Okay, Mrs. Detective Peña.”

“Oh my god!” you gasped. “I am Mrs. Detective Peña now!” you replied excitedly.

“Yes, you are.” The smile was evident in his voice. “You’re my wife.”

“Yes, I am, and you are my husband.”

“The best fucking thing anyone has called me.”

His response had you smiling.

It sometimes caught you off guard how much Javier loved you since the love you felt for him ran so deep that it consumed every fiber of your being. It didn’t seem possible that anyone could love you the same, not when your heart was more his than yours, yet Javi did. His devotion knew no bounds, and he saw you for everything you were and loved you despite it all—to him, you were perfection. No one would ever love you more, and you would never love anyone else more because he was yours, and you were his; fate, destiny, the writing in the stars led you to each other, and now your lives were so intertwined that his heart was your heart, his hands were your hands, his smile was your smile, he belonged to you as you belonged to him.

Enough time had passed for the food in your stomach to settle, and now you could acknowledge the want burning low in your belly, making your pussy drip with arousal. Something about how happy Javi was that he vowed to spend the rest of his existence with you was such a big turn-on that it was time for things to heat up so you could give him the sloppiest blow job to show your appreciation—except, you wanted it to be spicier than usual.

“My wonderful, perfect husband?”

“Yes, my wonderful, perfect wife?”

“You know what we should do right now?”

“Depends—has your food digested?”

“Yep.”

Javi jostled you as he moved his arm from under your back, rising up on it in order to meet your eyes, his plush lips smirking under his perfectly trimmed mustache. “In that case, have the dirtiest, nastiest sex known to man?” And it became evident you’d been together a while when he wiggled his eyebrows at you as you’d done to him many times before.

“You’re such a dork,” you giggled, playfully pushing his shoulder.

“That isn’t a no,” he pointed out.

“No, it’s not.” You shook your head. “But I was thinking we could get some fresh air out on the balcony.” It was your turn to wag your brows at him. Javi chuckled, giving you a big smile.

“Champagne?” he asked. “Or should I get out the salt and limes for tequila?”

“The room came with salt and limes…?”

“No—I brought the salt, limes, and our bottle of tequila from the apartment.”

He also brought you both overnight bags and somehow smuggled your toiletries out of his dad’s house–you’d taken them to Chucho’s the prior night when you stayed over, and you were pretty sure it was Connie who did the smuggling. She probably had Steve deliver your little bag with the food before he returned to their room, which Javi assured you was on the other side of the hotel and out of hearing range to your suite.

Your eyes rounded. “Because you knew I’d need liquid courage to fuck around outside?”

He gave you a look like the answer was obvious. “Yeah?”

“That is so unbelievably romantic. Horny, but romantic.” Grabbing a handful of his robe, you pulled him forward as you leaned toward him, slotting your lips with his, kissing him; he smelled like the floral rose petal-scented shampoo he used in the shower, and he tasted sweet from the bites of wedding cake you shared with him.

When you broke apart, you were both smiling.

“You get the goods,” you told him, “and I’ll meet you outside—I gotta pee really quick.”

“Okay,” he replied and pecked you on the nose.

The bathroom was on the other side of the room, which meant you had to go around the bed after you got off of it, Javi following you and smacking your ass. There wasn’t much of a smack with the thick robe in the way, but it still made you giggle. He headed for the bedroom door, and as you continued your journey to the en suite, something shiny on his bedside table caught your attention and made you frown.

“Babe?”

He hadn’t left the room yet, standing at the doorway.

“Yeah?”

“Does the gun have to hang out on your table, or can we put it in a drawer or something?” It was Chucho’s small revolver that he kept in the Mustang. Your husband didn’t want to risk it being stolen, so he brought it up to the room.

“Put it in the drawer.”

“Is it safe to touch…?” Unlike Javi, you did not have a lot of experience with firearms aside from treating many gunshot wounds when you worked in a big city emergency room.

“Would I ask you to touch it if it wasn’t safe?”

“No…”

“Exactly. The safety’s on.”

“That’s good,” you replied and moved closer. “I was worried about you shooting your cute little butt off when you shoved it in the back of your pants.” It was bewildering when he got out of the car and casually tucked the gun into the waistband of his slacks.

A huff of air left his nose. “Fifteen years with the DEA, and I never shot myself in the ass.”

Opening the drawer, the only thing in it was a bible. You carefully picked up the revolver by its grip with two fingers like an old, smelly sock and set it atop the book. “Yeah,” you replied, “‘cause you had the sexy tac-vest-thingy with the holster on the front.”

“I didn’t always wear a tac-vest...”

“What?” you replied, shutting the drawer and spinning around to face him. His fluffy, white robe reached down to mid-thigh on him, and it was tied closed, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the doorframe. “So, you’d wear a holster on your hip?” you asked.

You thought back to the pictures you’d seen of your husband in Colombia, trying to remember if he was wearing a holster in any of them.

His expression turned guilty. “No…”

The realization hit you. “A butt gun, Javier? You’d just walk around with a gun at your ass? That is not safe.”

One of his eyebrows rose. “The safety was on?”

“Okay? But even with the safety on, it’s still dangerous. I had so many people come through my ER because they didn’t properly holster their weapons. One dude had it in the front of his waistband, and when he went to pull it out, it accidentally discharged into his thigh and hit his femoral artery—dead on arrival.” Javi grimaced. “And don’t get me started on all of the butts I had to look at and treat because they carried like you and weren’t as lucky. Do you think I enjoy looking at strangers' butts?”

“I mean…”

“Us checking out bootylicious babes in San Antonio and Miami does not count, Javier. These butts I had to look at for work were mostly men’s butts, and I can tell you right now, they were not anywhere close to how cute yours is, and dear god, were a lot of them hairy—which, I am so thankful you are not a super hairy guy, and I really do appreciate that you trim your pubes.”

“It’s the least I can do.” He shrugged.

Your eyes lowered to his crotch, picturing what the white garment covered, your mouth watering at the thought of blowing him. Javi cleared his throat to get your attention, your eyes snapping up to his that sparkled in adoration.

“What were we talking about?” you asked.

Javi snorted. “You were getting on my ass about how I carry a gun.”

“Oh, yes—stop being dumb and protect what little ass you have.”

Javier was not going to reveal that there was a gun in the back of his waistband most of the time they went horseback riding.

“I’ll start using a holster,” he said. “But, if we’re going out on Pop’s land, you can’t complain if you see me carrying; I know guns make you uncomfortable, but our safety is more important.”

“Okay.” Her shoulders shrugged.

His eyebrows pulled together—he was expecting more resistance. “Really?”

“Yeah? You told me about all of the dangerous animals out there, and I’ll feel safer if you’re packing—that’s packing as in a gun on your person, not the big dick in your pants.” She winked at him, and Javier huffed in amusement.

“Thank you for the clarification. You’re taking this a lot better than I expected…”

She walked up to him with a grin and threw her arms around his neck, Javier immediately pulling her into him. “It’s marriage, baby,” she said. “We gotta compromise sometimes.”

“Yeah?” He smiled, his head moving forward to rub the tip of her nose with his. He whispered, “Does that mean you’ll let me teach you how to shoot?” Something she’s always refused.

“I don’t know—will it make you happy?”

“Yes.”

“Then fine, you can teach me.”

He pulled back to look at her. “Really?”

“Yes, because I am an amazing wife who loves my husband dearly.”

He grinned. “You’re a fucking incredible wife whose husband loves you more than anything.”

Javier didn’t give her a chance to respond; his lips crushed into hers, kissing her tenderly, hoping she could feel how happy she made him.

She really was a fucking incredible wife.

When they parted, he gave her another smack on the ass and told her to hurry, his wife giggling as they went their separate ways.

The balcony was covered, with a beamed ceiling overhead and walls on either end to offer some semblance of privacy—the railing was made of wrought iron, the vertical bars twisting like vines into delicate loops and swirls. The only furniture out there was a wooden bistro table situated against the stucco-coated wall with two armless chairs on both sides facing the river. The outdoor light was too bright, and Javier thought it would bring too much attention to them, so he settled on what light filtered out from the living room through the French doors’ windows and the brightness of the moon in the clear sky, illuminating the space in a gentle glow.

He was sitting back in one of the chairs, his legs slightly spread and his arm resting on the table beside him. On the tabletop was the half-drunk bottle of tequila, ziplock bag of cut-up lime wedges, and salt shaker he brought from their apartment, along with a shot glass he grabbed from their rented room’s bar that he washed himself to ensure it was clean.

The night air was cool and a little crisp as he looked out toward the Rio Grande, where, in the distance, he could see the lights of Nuevo Laredo across the way in Mexico. For some unknown reason—maybe being outside or how emotional the day was—Javier was craving a cigarette; even after quitting almost two years ago, he still felt the itch for nicotine here and there, and he’d done pretty well not giving in to the temptation, mainly because there was someone in his life now who distracted him from it. The French doors opened, and immediately, his head was turning in their direction to see his wife coming out.

His beautiful distraction.

He couldn’t keep himself from smiling even if he tried. She looked so comfortable in her robe that matched his, her face lighting up when her eyes landed on him. Her expression took him back to the first time he saw that beaming smile after she handed him the perfect tomato: that was the moment she pulled him in and made him want to know more about the sweet woman who was easily excitable over fresh produce. It was like meeting the sun—bright, warm, happy, and he wanted to bask in her rays and see that smile every day for the rest of his life. Better yet, he wanted to be the reason for that smile, and now he was proud to say he was.

Only a couple of minutes had passed since the last time he saw her, and when she made it over to him, she asked, “Is this seat taken?” She nodded at his knee closest to her, and without waiting for his answer, she sat down on his thigh with her legs between his and her arms around his neck, Javier pulling her closer.

His head was tilted up to look at her, his hand reaching to cradle her face in his palm, staring her in the eyes, smiling.

“I’ve got something else you can sit on,” he said.

“Javier,” she gasped. Her fingers went to his forehead, brushing stray strands of his hair off of it. “I’m gonna need a shot first, maybe two—actually, two for sure, no more than three because, as we know, one shot, two shot, three shot, four-the-love-of-god-stop-crying.”

He chuckled. “Two shots then, pero, quiero que mi esposa me bese primero (but, I want my wife to kiss me first).”

“Cualquier cosa por mi esposo (Anything for my husband).”

Javier couldn’t get enough of her calling him that.

He pulled her down until their lips were a hair's breadth apart. “Dilo otra vez (Say it again),” he rasped.

“Cualquier cosa por mi esposo (Anything for my husband),” she whispered.

“¿Quién soy yo (Who am I)?”

“Mi esposo (My husband).”

“Sí, chingados que soy (Yes, I fucking am),” he growled, pressing his mouth to hers.

The kiss was anything but chaste with how Javier plunged his tongue between her perfect lips to tangle with hers. His heartbeat sped up, the blood pumping through his heated body and traveling to his hardening cock. He moved his hand from her face down to her bare knee, tracing his fingertips up under her robe over the soft skin of her thigh to her ass to squeeze a handful of it.

There wasn’t the same pent-up need like their kiss in the Mustang when he parked them in the field. This one was instead full of promise for their night ahead, making the anticipation swell that they could now take their time and truly enjoy each other since they already dealt with the sexual frustration of being cockblocked multiple times when they were frantic in the car.

Javier savored the feeling of her mouth on his, how their tongues intertwined, and the sweet taste of her lips. He savored her moans and her fingers combing up through the hair from the nape of his neck to the back of his head, where she clutched it tight in her fists; sparks danced along his spine and collected at the base of it, feeding the fire of his arousal that had him half-hard already and wanting to touch more of his wife’s body.

His wife. His beautiful, smart, sexy, amazing wife.

They kissed until they were breathless, both panting when they separated. He nibbled on her chin, his mouth blazing a path along the underside of her jaw until he was at the taut skin of her neck, nipping and kissing down the column of it.

“Oh, god,” she gasped when he sucked at her pulse point, and it made him smile. She lightly tugged his head back by the hair to make him look at her. “Shots.”

“Yeah?” He squeezed her ass.

“Fuck yes.”

“Okay, baby. Ladies first.”

He got his arm out from behind her back, his other hand leaving her ass as his upper body twisted slightly toward the table to grab the bottle of tequila, unscrewing the cap and pouring the liquor into the clear shot glass. Then he opened the bag of limes and picked up the salt shaker, his attention returning to her.

“Where do you want the salt?” Usually, a pinch was licked off the hand between the thumb and forefinger, but he had other ideas for his turn.

She worked open the tie on his robe and pushed it away to reveal his chest, his arm going back behind her again to give her room. “Here,” she said, bending her head to lave at his nipple with her tongue.

“Fuck,” Javier breathed, swallowing hard—it looked like she had the same idea.

While she sprinkled the salt on him, he took a lime wedge out of the bag and gently bit the rind, holding it between his teeth.

Cielito set the shaker down to grab the shot glass and raised it. “Fuck the leather, fuck the lace, here’s to the one who sits on your face!”

The only reason he didn’t laugh was because immediately after she spoke, her face dipped down to suck the salt off his nipple—the shock of pleasure had the muscles in his thighs tensing. She quickly drank the tequila, her face pinching at the burn before she bit the lime out of his mouth.

The glass was back on the table, his wife setting the remnants of the fruit she sucked the juice from next to it.

“Woo!” she exclaimed. “One down, one to go.” She untied her robe and opened it, Javier’s eyes lowering to her bare tits.

His hand moved on its own accord, skating his large palm up her stomach to fondle her breast. He could hear her say something but didn’t make out the words. Her smaller hand came into view, and the snapping of her fingers ended his trance—he looked up at her. “Sorry?” he said.

She smiled. “I asked where you want the salt.”

“I think you know where I want the salt.” His tongue swiped along his bottom lip at the thought of getting his mouth on her tits.

“That’s why the robe is open.” She winked. “My guess was boobies or neck, and I see you’ve chosen the boobies, a tit for tit.”

“Don’t you mean a ‘tit for tat’?”

“No.” She shook her head. “A tit for tit works better in this situation.”

“I am so in love with you.”

“Good, ‘cause I am so in love with you.”

He took her breast into his palm and leaned his head forward, sucking her stiff nipple into his mouth. Her breath caught in her throat, the fingers on one of her hands going into his hair. Javier came off of her with a wet pop, her skin shining with his saliva. He shook some salt onto her, then poured himself a shot as she got a lime wedge.

“I expect a good toast,” she said. “No, ‘salud.’ Give me something raunchy that you and your guy friends would say in college, or you and Steve in Colombia.”

His eyebrow lifted. “Something raunchy Steve would say? The guy who doesn’t like us kissing in front of his kids?”

“Okay, you know what. The moment I said Steve, I realized the raunchiest thing he’d say before you guys drank would be cheers or bottoms up if he was feeling a bit scandalous. There’s gotta be shit you and your friends in college would say, though.”

He picked up the tiny glass that looked even smaller in his hand compared to hers and took a moment to think about what he could say. He’d never been much into toasting, and in college, they usually drank to getting laid or winning a swim meet. There was something he overheard years ago, down in Colombia, that an American tourist said that stuck with him. He just had to remember the wording…

She had the lime ready for him between her teeth, and he lifted the shot. “Here’s to love, here’s to honor; if you can’t come in her, come on her!”

Cielito was doing her best not to laugh. He sucked the salt off of her breast and shot back the tequila, the mineral lessening the initial burn—it was smooth with a sweetness of flavors, picking up vanilla and caramel and a hint of something oaky that was washed away by the sourness of the lime when he bit into it. The glass went back onto the table, along with used rind.

He looked at his wife. “How was that?” he asked, his hand around her back, squeezing her hip.

“Very good. I loved the play on words.”

“How are you feeling?”

She smiled at him. “Fucking amazing. Ready for round two?”

Javier mirrored her expression. “Where do you want the salt?”

This time, she salted his neck, and when she raised the glass, she said, “To us: may all of our ups and downs be in bed!”

Once again, he didn’t have a chance to chuckle before her tongue was licking up the sensitive skin of his neck, his eyes closing at how good it felt. The alcohol was warm in his belly, and he knew it’d take one more shot before he felt any of its effects—his wife would be feeling it any minute now.

For his turn, he chose her neck as well—a ‘tit for tit.’ He lifted the shot glass, keeping his gaze on hers, another lime wedge in her mouth for him. “To my wife, who I love more than anything. You are my forever and have made me the happiest man in the entire fucking world. This isn’t the best day of my life—it’s only one of them because I know there are many more ahead of us. Te amo, mi Cielito (I love you, my Cielito).”

Her eyes were misty, and he went through the steps—lick, drink, suck—she leaned his way, and he closed the distance, his tongue licking up the salty trail on her throat before he drank the tequila, then sucked the lime from between her lips. The moment her mouth was empty, she said, “Javier, how dare you say something so sweet when my toasts were gross.”

He spit the rind out onto the table with the others, the glass going bottom-up beside them. His hand went to the back of her neck, pulling her toward him. “I meant it all,” he replied, smashing his lips to hers.

His mouth muffled her moan—taking advantage of her parted lips, he licked inside, tasting the lime and sweet hints of tequila, their tongues dancing together as they had countless times before. His free hand gravitated to her tits, roughly palming one, then the other, pinching and rolling each of her pebbled nipples with his fingers.

Javier loved her breathy sounds.

The alcohol’s warmth was spreading through his body, his dick hard and throbbing, barely covered by his robe. His wife gave as good as she got, and she made him groan when she freed his length and wrapped her fingers around him, slowly pumping him up and down.

It was starting to heat up, and there was a list of things he wanted to do, but first, he needed to ensure she was comfortable. He detached his lips from hers, kissing the edge of her mouth, his nose bumping into hers.

“You good?” he asked. “Or another shot?”

“I’m good,” you answered and kissed his plush lips.

The booze had you feeling warm and tamped down your nerves. You were good, you were more than good, your cunt weeping with your need for him.

With the way your husband had been obsessing about eating your pussy all night, you knew that was the first thing he’d want to do, and you were curious to find out what he planned—was he going to sit you in the chair and get on his knees for you? Bend you over the railing and eat you out from the back? Or put you in the position he had you in earlier when you were interrupted, with your back against the wall and him kneeling at your feet? It was honestly a toss-up on what he would choose. Luckily, he didn’t make you wait long.

Javi’s mouth broke away from yours, grabbing your hand that was on him, ordering you, “Up.” You didn’t waste any time, rising to stand in front of him. He grunted as he got up with you, the seat creaking from his movements; he was so close to you that your bodies touched, your palm still in his—he tugged it to make you face him and have you chest to chest.

His eyes were dark with lust when they met yours. “I fucking need you,” he rasped, and suddenly those big mitts of his were framing your face, his lips finding yours. This kiss was fervent, urgent, his need evident as he turned you away from the table and backed you up into the wall beside the chair.

From how passionately he claimed your lips, it seemed his words had a double meaning: he needed you physically at this moment and needed you always in his life. He needed you in every way there was, and wasn’t it the same for you with him? You needed him in every way there was, too. Not only that, but you weren’t sure you’d be able to breathe without him; would your heartbeat cease without him? These were questions you never wanted to learn the answers to.

With your robed back pressed to the stucco wall, it was apparent he wanted to finish what he started earlier, and you were happy to oblige. The glow from the lights in the living room trickling out through the French doors’s windows, along with the moonlight, softly lit the balcony. Thankfully, it wasn’t bright enough for anyone to make out what was going on if they happened to look, and that, added with the tequila, eased any worries you had.

Your robe was untied, Javi shoving it open to reveal your entire naked front, the cool air causing goosebumps to prickle on your warm skin, your nipples to tighten. He kissed you hard one last time and then began his journey down your body. Earlier, when you arrived at the room, your husband was so focused on taking care of you that he didn’t get a chance to take his time to admire your bare figure—something you could tell he wanted to do badly when he was undressing you. Now, he could, the man worshiping you with his lips and hands, kissing and touching every bit of flesh he came into contact with; his palms mapped out your belly and hips, his mouth trailing down your neck to your chest, Javier whispering into your skin as he went, “You’re beautiful… you’re so fucking beautiful… I’m so lucky… fuck, I love you.”

He took your breasts into his hands, his head lowering to suck one of your pebbled buds into his mouth. The pleasure had you gasping and needing to touch him, your palms sliding under his robe to hold onto his waist. His teeth grazed over your stiff peak before he lightly bit it and tugged, making you loudly moan his name; he let it go and moved to the other, enveloping it in the warmth of his mouth, giving it the same attention.

Arousal was coating your inner thighs, the anticipation welling up inside of you—you wanted Javi’s face buried in your pussy as much as he wanted to do it.

Once he gave your tits an ample amount of attention, leaving your nipples and the skin around them glossy with spit, he continued making his way down the front of your body. As he lowered, so did his lips, his kisses all over your stomach imbued with his words of love. “So beautiful… I can’t wait to see you pregnant… you’re gonna look so good with my baby inside you… I love you so fucking much… you make me so happy.”

Even after all this time you’ve been together with Javi, it was still hard to accept that he truly found you beautiful. You knew he meant everything he said, but there were parts of your body you hated, parts that you could still recall word-for-word the negative comments your mother made about them, parts that were far from perfect that you couldn’t believe anyone would ever love. Except, there was someone who did love them—Javi. He genuinely loved every part of you, and he loved them all so reverently and with such conviction—like if he loved them enough, you would, too.

Maybe that would happen; maybe he’d help you break through the years of insecurity, and you would learn to love your imperfections—only time would tell. For now, you were finally to a point where you believed your husband when he told you how beautiful you were, and with his excitement over eventually seeing you pregnant, he’d helped calm your fears about the changes your body would go through.

He kneeled in front of you, grabbing handfuls of your ass while he placed a kiss on your mound. He put your leg over his shoulder to open you up, his fingers spreading apart your lower lips where you knew he could see how wet you were for him.

“Finally,” he whispered, and that was all the warning you got before Javi dove in face first, the flat of his tongue licking up your slit. He had you biting your lip and curling your fingers into the soft strands of his hair, making you keen when he started lapping at your perky little clit.

“Oh, god,” you breathed.

No one ate pussy like Javier—it was like he was starving for it, the rumbling groans he made as he dragged his mouth all over your cunt, wanting to taste every bit of your essence while inhaling your musk. His words vibrated against your cunt, “You taste so fucking good.”

“You’re too good at this,” you panted. The back of your head hit the wall, your eyes closing, moans falling unbidden from your lips as the first signs of your orgasm took shape low in your belly. “I’m so lucky,” you continued. “I can’t fucking believe I get this for the rest of my life.”

For only a second, he paused. “Any time you want it,” he roughly replied. “Fucking love this pussy.” He then sucked on his ring and middle fingers to soak them in saliva. You whined his name when he pushed them into your sopping cunt. There was a slight stretch, Javi putting his mouth back to work, licking and sucking at your sensitive skin. His come—still inside you from earlier in the Mustang—and your arousal had his thick digits moving easily in and out of you, your hips grinding against his face and hand.

“Just like that,” you said. “Oh, god, don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

Your limbs were beginning to tremble as the pleasure built inside of you, and you cried out as his fingertips rubbed that one spot only he could find—that only seemed to encourage him. He growled into your pussy and doubled down, hitting nirvana every time he pumped his fingers, his mouth focusing on your clit, alternating between sucking it between his lips and flicking his tongue along it side to side, over and over again.

“Oh my fucking god, I love you,” you told him in your blissful haze. “I fucking love you, Javier Peña.”

He hummed something that sounded a lot like, “I love you, too.”

The muscles in your stomach started tightening, the liquor in your system keeping you relaxed as you stood there on the balcony with your tits out, getting your pussy eaten by your new husband. It didn’t take much more to have you cresting, euphoria exploding out from your core as you came, gasping Javi’s name. He loudly groaned, saying, with his face in your cunt, “Good girl.” He replaced his fingers with his tongue, licking up your come and what remained of his inside you while you rode out your high.

Your body went lax, and you slumped; your heart was pounding in your chest, your breaths panting from your lungs. When Javi got his fill, he carefully removed your leg from his shoulder and rose back up onto his feet with a pained sound from his achy knees. He gently kissed your chin, then one side of your mouth, and the other—his lips were wet, and you could smell yourself on him. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close, his hard cock pressing into your belly. This was when his mouth met yours to properly kiss you, tasting yourself on his lips and tongue, hugging him in return, the skin on his back warm under your palms.

Between the tequila and orgasm, you felt amazing, and you wanted your husband to feel the same. You ended the kiss, your hands moving to hold his face as you looked at him—his eyes were closed, his mustache and lower half of his face glistening with your juices, a happy little smile on his lips. He looked so unbelievably adorable that you gave in to the impulse and squished his cheeks to the point his shiny lips pursed—it made you grin.

“You are so fucking cute,” you said. “Even when you look like a goldfish, you’re a capital C, Ca-Utie. Ugh, it’s illegal how goddamn adorable you are.”

His eyes opened. “You done?” he asked, sounding a little funny.

“Obsessing about how cute you are? Never. Like, you’re so cute.” A thought caught you off guard that had your eyes widening, the alcohol in your system amplifying the doubts. “You’re too cute,” you whispered. Letting go of his face, you continued, “Why would you want to be with someone like me? Do you like me?” you asked. “As more than a friend? Like, romantically?” You chewed on your lip.

His eyebrows pulled together, and he squinted, clearly confused. “I married you…” he said slowly.

“Yeah, but did you marry me because you love me or because we’re best friends?”

“Am I married to Steve…?”

“No, but he was already married when you met, and polygamy is illegal.”

“Cielito, mi amor, I married you because I love you, and you’re wearing the proof of that on your finger.”

“Friendship rings exist.”

“I sure as fuck didn’t give Steve my mother’s ring because we’re friends. I love you as more than a friend—wait.” His eyes rounded. Quietly, he asked, “Do you love me as just a friend or more than a friend?”

“How can you ask me that? I definitely love you as more than a friend!”

“You asked me first, and it fucked with my head!”

“I’m sorry, I needed to double-check.”

“I needed to double-check, too.”

“Well, I love you so much that I want to have your babies—” You poked him in the chest. “—and I can tell you right now, I don’t want to have Robyn’s babies. I mean, unless it was like a surrogate situation.”

That made him smile, his hands rubbing up and down your covered arms. “I want you to have my babies, too.”

“Then that settles it. We love each other as more than friends, but you’re still my best friend.”

“You’re still my best friend.”

“I won’t tell Steve.”

“I won’t tell Robyn.”

He leaned in to kiss you sweetly, the two of you smiling when you broke apart.

“Javi?”

“Yes, Cielito?”

“We’re a couple of dumbasses.”

An amused breath left him. “It’s a good thing we married each other, then.”

“True. Dumbasses need to stick together. Now,” you gripped the open edges of his robe and turned you both, pressing him back into the wall hard enough that he grunted. “It’s time for me to blow your popsicle, Mr. Peña.” Something you said you wanted to do earlier, but he told you could happen later.

“Mi cuerpo es tu cuerpo, Mrs. Peña (My body is your body, Mrs. Peña). You can do any-fucking-thing you want to me.”

You grinned. “I love when you tell me that.” You leaned in to give him one last lingering kiss.

It was your turn to make him feel good, and you began by kissing down his body, starting at his jaw and moving lower and lower, down his gorgeous neck, his chest, his soft belly, crouching when you made it to the happy trail of hair below his belly button that you followed until you were face to face with his hard cock. It looked even better than you imagined earlier–long, thick, and with that slight curve that felt so fucking good when he was inside you, the tip flushed and shiny with precum. The tile beneath you was unforgiving when you kneeled on it, raising your arms above your head to drag your fingernails down his stomach and through the curls, Javi’s head falling back against the wall with a soft moan.

You spat in the palm of your dominant hand, wrapping your fingers around his shaft—it was hot and hard, Javi twitching in your grip as you started languidly pumping him.

Looking up at your husband through your lashes, you said, “Hey, babe?”

His face tilted down at you.

“Yes, mi amor?”

“What do you call a nurse with dirty knees?”

His eyebrows pulled together. “What?”

“A head nurse.”

He went from chuckling to groaning loudly when the flat of your tongue licked up his length from root to tip, swirling it around the sensitive edges at the head. You reveled in how his eyes squeezed shut, and his mouth fell open, loving the salty tang of his precum as you took him into your mouth, continuing to stroke what didn’t fit. His big hands found their home in your hair, moving with your bobbing head as you hollowed your cheeks, taking more and more of him until he was hitting the back of your throat.

His rough voice came from above, “That’s it, baby—it feels so fucking good.”

That only egged you on. It could be said that you were an expert at blowing your husband. You knew all the things that made him tick and what would really get him going, like when your head rose off of him, gathering a wad of saliva on your tongue that you let drip onto the tip of him.

“Yes,” he gasped. “Spit on it.”

More saliva fell, slicking up the movements of your hand stroking him. You ducked your head, sucking one of his balls into your mouth.

His fingers tightened in your hair. “Fuck,” he groaned, and the way he said that word had your cunt clenching. You tongued at the thin skin of his sack, then gently sucked his other ball, your palm on his dick twisting on every upstroke to slide along the underside of the head.

The muscles in his thighs were tensed as you licked up his shaft to take him back into your mouth. His hips just barely rocked as his dick slid further and further along your palate until you were swallowing around him, his cock sliding into the tight space of your throat. Your nose pressed into the neatly trimmed curls at the base of him, smelling the soap he washed with in the shower.

“Christ, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he rasped. Tears collected in the corners of your eyes as saliva dripped down his length, your hands clutching his thighs. You looked up, meeting his dark gaze, seeing the clear love and desire he had for you. “So pretty with my dick down your throat.” His palm caressed your cheek. “That’s my good girl making me feel so fucking good—fuck, I love you.”

This was why you genuinely loved giving Javi head—he was always so vocal, and when he praised you, it made you drip for him. Arousal was hot in your belly. It always turned you on to hear and see the effect you were having on him. You swallowed around his thick cock, causing your throat to squeeze him—his body shivered, and you watched it travel down from his shoulders to his hips.

“Shit,” he moaned.

The glow of the moon and what light reached the balcony from the living room softly illuminated the man above you, and you couldn’t think of a prettier sight than your husband struggling to keep from coming, as he was right then. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he looked at you with pleading eyes. “I don’t wanna come like this.” The words came out scratchy like sandpaper. “Can I fuck you? Please, Cielito?”

He didn’t need to ask twice. Immediately, you came off of him, strings of spit and precum keeping you connected. Staring up at him under your eyelashes, you answered hoarsely, “Yes. Fuck me, Papí.”

That had Javi helping you stand. When you were finally up on your feet, his large hands framed your face as he kissed you hard. He didn’t care that your chin was wet with spit or your cheeks had tear marks; he kissed you as if his life depended on it and slowly started walking you backward toward the railing.

He spoke between kisses, his mouth pressed to yours, muffling his words, “Estoy tan feliz de que seas mi esposa (I’m so happy that you are my wife)… Estoy tan feliz de poder pasar el resto de mi vida contigo (I’m so happy I get to spend the rest of my life with you)... Estoy tan feliz de que algún día seas la madre de mis hijos (I’m so happy that one day you will be the mother of my children)... Este es el día más feliz de mi vida (This is the happiest day of my life).”

Suddenly, your husband spun you, his palm smoothing up the cotton covering your back to signal you to bend toward the railing. The top of it reached the middle of your ribs, so you weren’t bent at the waist—you were leaning onto it, crossing your arms atop the metal, and popping out your ass with a widened stance to give him more room. He gripped your hips and pressed his throbbing cock into your backside. Javi leaned into you. “Feel how hard I am? That’s all you, my beautiful wife.”

Arousal swirled in your belly, the beat of your heart pulsing between your legs.

You turned your head, looking at him behind you. “You should feel how wet I am. It’s all you, my handsome husband,” you replied, wiggling your butt.

He smiled and kissed your shoulder blade. “I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you, too.”

It seemed he had enough talking. Javi straightened himself and flipped up the bottom of your robe to bare you, the cool air chilling the wetness at the crux of your thighs. He grunted as he crouched down behind you, squeezing handfuls of your ass. His teeth lightly sank into the meat of your inner thigh for only a moment, and it was like dousing gasoline on the flames in your core.

His hands spread open your asscheeks. “So fucking pretty,” he purred. A second later, a rumbling groan came from his throat as he licked up through your slit from your clit to your entrance before spitting on the skin between your two holes—you felt the warm wad of saliva dripping down to your already-soaked opening.

He smacked your ass, the cheek jiggling as he rose back up on his feet. “You gotta keep quiet, baby,” he whispered. One of his hands held your waist while the other slid his dick through your arousal and his spit to wet himself. He bent at the waist to rasp into your ear, “Don’t wanna draw attention to us—unless you want everyone to know how good your husband fucks you.” He squeezed your hip as he notched the fat head of his cock at your entrance.

Your robe was open, your nipples tingling when a breeze hit your bare skin. The alcohol made you brave as you looked at him over your shoulder again with a smile, your hand going up behind you to touch his smooth cheek.

“I want the entire world to know how good my husband fucks me. Give it to me, Papí.”

A shiver moved down Javier’s spine, his cock jerking in his hand.

This woman was going to be the death of him.

“Scream for me, baby,” he replied, turning his head to kiss the center of her palm.

He started pressing himself into the tight clutch of her pussy, her inner walls hugging his thick length as he fed it inside her inch by inch—her arm fell back onto the railing, and they both moaned, Javier’s eyes closing, his jaw going slack at how good she felt around him, all hot and wet. His hips met the softness of her ass, and he looked down to watch as he slowly pulled out, his dick glistening under what little light there was.

“I love how wet you get for me,” he said. “All nice and soaked for your husband.”

He couldn’t get enough of being called that: her husband.

The quickie in the car scratched the itch; still, Javier had been looking forward all-fucking-day to the moment when he got to take his time and properly fuck his wife. Gripping her waist, he pushed back in, Cielito’s head falling onto the cushion of her arms with a breathy “Yes” that riled him up. She wanted everyone to know how good her husband fucks her, and he was more than happy to oblige.

He started moving in and out of her, keeping most of himself inside for her to feel every ridge and pulsing vein as he reacquainted her cunt with the familiar shape of him.

“It’s so good,” she moaned. “You feel so good.”

“Yeah? I’ve got you, hermosa (beautiful).”

He could make it feel even better—this was a position where she wanted him to be rough, where she wanted him to fuck her until she was cock dumb and her legs shook.

He began increasing the momentum of his hips, slickly sliding halfway out and back into her over and over again until he was railing into her with hard, even strokes that stuttered her loud moans. Javier grunted with each thrust, their skin clapping where it met. With how the balcony had walls on three sides, the sounds echoed off the stucco.

Fuck, he loved being inside her. There was nothing better than feeling the squeeze of her pussy around him. He did love her going down on him a little bit ago, and earlier, when she gave him a hand job after their marriage ceremony, he loved that, too. He also loved the occasions when she’d let him fuck her ass—Javier loved anything she wanted to do with him. But if he had to choose a favorite, it’d be a variation of what they were doing right now.

“You like this?” he mumbled between grunts. “Is it good?”

Several seconds passed with no answer, and there was no hiding his smirk. He slid a palm up the path of her spine to firmly grasp the back of her neck, his other hand going to her front, roughly fondling her breast. He kept up the punishing pace of his hips.

“Am I fucking you good, mi amor?” he tried again a little louder.

Her head lifted, turning her attention to him behind her. Even in such dim conditions, he could see her eyes were heavy-lidded and glazed over. There was a scrunch between her eyebrows, and her mouth was slightly agape—she was absolutely wrecked. She finally answered, repeating, “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

Pride swelled inside him. “You like how your husband fucks you?”

“Yes! God, yes!” she cried.

Her words had sparks igniting at the base of his spine, making his cock twitch. His fingers plucked at her nipple, rolling the stiff bud. It’d be hard for anyone down below to fully make out what they were doing, but there was no masking the noise—the filthy repetitive slap of skin hitting skin, his rough grunts, and her whining moans that filled the air gave them away.

They were usually much more courteous to their neighbors when it came to their volume. His wife always found it embarrassing when Mrs. Hernandez banged on the wall between their apartments or the people upstairs stomped on the floor to tell them to quiet down. It had to be the tequila—the liquid courage—that had her acting so brazen tonight, and he loved it.

“Are you gonna come for me?” he asked.

“Yes! Don’t stop!” She started chanting over and over again, “Don’t stop! Don’t stop! Don’t stop—”

He followed her orders, continuing to pound into her at the same speed, his fingers tweaking her nipple. Beads of sweat were forming on his brow and the small of his back, his gaze locked on hers—she was so gorgeous.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Cielito,” he told her. “So fucking beautiful taking it like my good girl.”

Her eyes squeezed shut, and she loudly whined his name into the night. Her cunt was fluttering around him, her entire body quaking. She laid her head back onto her arms, and that told him she was almost to the finish line.

“Come for me, mi amor,” he said. “Let me have it.”

He’d follow soon after he. His orgasm had been slowly building inside him, feeling the pressure rising deep in his guts with every passing second. He was thankful they fucked in the car because there was no way in hell he would’ve been able to last this long if they hadn’t fooled around beforehand.

Javier loved every second of this, the thrill amplifying his pleasure. The thrill was the reason he enjoyed fucking in places he shouldn’t. He craved the adrenaline, something he experienced regularly in Colombia. But now, instead of possibly dying to feel that rush, he just had to try not to get caught.

It wasn’t much longer before they reached a crescendo. She let out an unintelligible cry, all of the muscles in her body pulling taut, choking his dick hard enough to stutter his rhythm—he sucked in a breath through bared teeth, willing himself not to come while he continued fucking her through her high, drawing it out.

It happened fast. Her legs went wobbly like a newborn calf’s. “Shit,” Javier breathed, quickly getting his arm around her middle and the other across her chest. “Don’t fall, baby,” he grunted, hauling her up against his body to prevent her from doing as much. It was his strength that kept her standing and walked her forward, pinning her by the hips to the railing.

By some miracle, his cock stayed inside her.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “My legs feel like jello.”

He carefully pulled the robe off one of her shoulders to lightly kiss the side of her neck, her skin prickling with goosebumps. “Don’t apologize,” was his muffled reply. “Means your husband fucked you good.” His lips made a journey to her ear. “Do you wanna stop?” he whispered. “Or can I keep going?”

She reached up behind her, combing her fingers into his sweat-damp hair. “Mmm, definitely keep going.”

Javier smiled. “Yeah?” He kissed that one sensitive spot behind her ear—she hummed happily. “I wanna look at you,” he said. “Can I turn you?”

“Of course. Just help me, please. I don’t trust my legs.”

He chuckled. “I’ve got you.”

He slipped out of her, the back of her robe falling into place. Her legs were still shaking as he helped her face him, pressing her into the railing again. They locked eyes, and both smiled. His hands reached to hold her perfect face while her arms went around his neck, her fingers pushing into the brown waves at the back of his head.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi.” His thumbs stroked over the apples of her cheeks. “There you are. My beautiful wife.”

Before she could respond, he closed the gap between their lips, hers petal soft and slotting together with his perfectly. He wanted to kiss her slowly. He wanted to savor this moment, take his time, but she made this delicious little noise that broke his resolve, and he wanted nothing more than to hear it again. It made him greedy. Not only did he want that noise, he wanted her moans and her sighs. He wanted to hear her mouth caress the syllables of his name and cry it out when he brought her to the brink of ecstasy.

The kiss turned hungry and passionate, both of them ravenous. When that sweet sound met his ears again, it spurred him on. He was still hard and aching to come. Unable to wait any longer, Javier reached down to hook her thigh onto his hip, then guided his length back into her pussy. The moment his cock breached her tight opening, he moaned into her mouth, his head going dizzy at how good it felt.

He started slowly thrusting, his lips breaking away to nip at her chin. “Can I make you come again?” he breathily asked. “Please?”

Her fingers were still tangled in his hair, and she pulled on it to get his attention. “Is that what you need, baby? You wanna feel me come around your dick? You wanna watch your wife come?”

Javier whimpered—his eyes squeezed shut, and his cock pulsed inside her. He wanted to watch, he wanted to feel and hear her come, taste her tongue on his, and smell the sex on her skin. She already occupied his every thought, and he wanted her to take over his senses, too. Take over his entire world until she was all that existed.

He continued moving his hips, his dick sliding easily with how wet it was between her legs.

Javier looked at her, his tongue wetting his bottom lip. “Yes,” he answered. “Can I?”

Her palm pressed to his cheek, and he leaned into the touch. “Yes, Javi.” This time, she was the one who crushed her mouth to his before he could utter another word, her fingers threading into his hair. Her tongue pushed past his lips, and he groaned, the kiss turning messy.

He was still so worked up that it wasn’t going to take a lot to get him off. Javier increased his pace, going harder and faster. There was an audible wetness where they were joined, and he could hear himself working in and out of her used cunt, her arousal dripping down his shaft and balls.

This was what he wanted. To be able to kiss her. To see her and watch her fall apart. He had one hand gripping her leg at his waist, keeping it up, and snaked his other between their bodies, sliding it down her stomach to the apex of her thighs to rub her clit. He swallowed her moan, her fingers tightening in his thick strands of hair. His lips broke away from hers, Javier ducking his head, spreading sloppy kisses along her collarbone, on her shoulder, and up her neck. With her robe open and off her shoulder, it gave him a canvas of bared skin for his mouth to map out.

“Tell me when you’re close,” he murmured against her throat. “Can you do that for me?”

He was doing everything in his power to hold off his own end so she could take him with her. The muscles in his belly were knotted up, his heart pounding in his chest. His cock was throbbing almost uncomfortably with his need to come.

“Yes.”

“Good girl.” Javier sucked on her earlobe, then returned his attention to her neck and shoulder, kissing and biting the skin. His voice was muffled as he rambled, “I’m gonna make you come, and when I do—fuck—when I do, I’m going with you.” He was circling her clit, giving her the friction she needed. “I'll fill you up, and you’re gonna stay full. I fucking meant it when I said I’m gonna keep you stuffed full of me.” He was panting hot breaths as he kissed her, getting himself worked up with what he was saying. “I can promise you—shit—I can promise you, I am going to get you pregnant. I am going to knock you up.” He swallowed hard, his hips continuing to fuck into her. “You’re gonna have my baby. I’m gonna make sure of it.”

They were pretty sure her actual shot at getting pregnant was the week prior. But since they weren’t 100% positive, they didn’t want to miss their chance, and that possibility made the shit they said while fucking even hotter.

“Please,” she moaned. “Put a baby in me. Please. I want it. Fill me up, Papí.”

“Jesus Christ,” he groaned. “You can have it—fuck—you can have any-fucking-thing you want. I’ll fuck a baby into you.”

He tucked his face in the crook of her neck, breathing heavily through gritted teeth. It was taking most of his focus to keep himself from blowing his load.

“I’m close, Javi!” Cielito whined. “Oh, god, I’m gonna come!”

The excitement caused his rhythm to falter for a split second. “Shit,” Javier hissed. He quickly got back into tempo, his head lifting to look at his wife. Her eyes were closed, her forehead shining with perspiration, moans spilling from her rounded lips. His fingers kept strumming her clit, and his other hand gently grasped her jaw.

“Look at me,” he panted. “Open your eyes, Cielito. Let me see you.”

Her eyelids fluttered open, and he was met with hooded lust-blown eyes.

“Javi,” she gasped. Her fingers were clenched in his hair. “I’m gonna come, Javi.”

“I know, baby. I know. Come for me. Take me with you.”

She was quivering as his hips swung hard and fast into her. Javier watched as each stroke took her higher and higher, his gaze never leaving hers. After half a dozen more thrusts, she finally told him, “I’m coming.” Her eyes squeezed shut, moaning as she peaked; her body seized up, her pussy clamping down on him.

That was it for Javier.

A strangled noise left his throat as his balls drew up, pushing himself all the way to the root inside her. Pleasure erupted from his core, his dick pulsing, painting her insides with rope after rope of his come. He rolled his hips, fucking his spend as deep as it would go. The primal part of his brain making him ignore how sensitive his cock was in order to fill the depths of her cunt.

When every last drop was wrung out of him, he stopped moving, and his body became boneless. He slumped into his wife, but not before wrapping his arms around her and burying his face back into the crook of her neck. All thoughts had left his brain, the man blissed out, basking in her warmth and the familiar scent of her skin. And then she did his favorite thing and started playing with his sweaty hair. He sighed happily, nuzzling his face closer to her like he was trying to burrow himself under her skin.

This. This was the closest thing to heaven on earth. This was his heaven. She was his heaven.

Javier grew up going to church with his parents, and his interpretation of what he read and heard was that if there were a heaven, it wouldn’t be a physical place. There were no pearly gates or St. Peter waiting to greet you. Instead, it was a state of being where there was complete fulfillment and nothing but absolute happiness. How fucking lucky was he that he found that in life?

He stood there, his body pressed into her softer one, as the beat of their hearts slowed and their breaths evened out. There was a low rumble of cars driving on nearby roads and unseen crickets chirping in the distance.

It took a few minutes before either of them spoke.

“Javi?” she croaked.

He kissed the side of her neck. “Yes, baby?”

“I’m ready to go inside.”

He straightened to his full height to see her face. “Okay, mi amor.” He pecked her on the lips, rubbing his hands up and down her robed arms. “Can you walk?”

Her eyebrow rose. “Can I walk? Mr. I’m-going-to-make-you-come-so-many-times-you’re-gonna-need-a-wheelchair.”

Javier tried not to smile and failed, his hands pausing. “A wheelchair?”

“Yes, a wheelchair. Because my husband loves to fuck me to the point I can’t walk.” She wasn’t wrong, and it made his chest puff up. “Should’ve brought one home from work a long time ago.”

“You don’t need a wheelchair, baby.” He gently squeezed her biceps. “I did it, and I’ll get you where you need to go. Does a bath sound good? Or do you wanna get into bed? We could also watch TV on the couch—order a pay-per-view movie.”

Her lips lifted into a knowing smile. “Pay-per-view movie, huh? Like, porn? Javi, when you stay in hotels by yourself, do you order pay-per-view porn? You can be honest with me. I’m your wife.”

He scratched at the back of his neck. “I mean, not every time… what about you? You can be honest with me. I’m your husband.”

“A time or two, out of curiosity.”

He smiled. “Out of curiosity, huh?” His voice went a little deeper. “Did you touch yourself while watching…?”

“What do you think?”

Javier grabbed her hips. He leaned in to hover his mouth over hers, nuzzling her nose with his. “I think,” he rasped, “you played with your pretty pussy while watching. Did you get yourself off with your fingers?”

“Vibrator. You know I don’t like playing acoustic pussy unless I have to.”

“You like my fingers.”

“Because you’re sexy and an acoustic pussy maestro.” She brushed his lips with hers. “It’s your turn to choose,” she said. “Bath, bed, or couch, Mr. Peña?”

“Bath sounds nice.”

“Bath sounds wonderful.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do, Mrs. Peña.” He ended the sentence with a kiss, something slow and tender. They broke apart, smiling. “Let’s go, Cielito.”

The rectangular whirlpool tub was massive enough that your husband could sit across from you with his long legs fully extended while yours rested over his. Javi’s cheeks and chest were painted with a pink flush from the bath’s heat, his broad shoulders dotted with a constellation of freckles. Your bodies were submerged in the hot water, covered from your shoulders down, the bathtub’s jets rumbling as they massaged your backs. It was relaxing, the warmth of the water and the pressure of the spray along your spine easing all of the tension from your body.

To continue the celebration of your nuptials, your husband brought the complimentary bottle of champagne into the bathtub with you. He popped it open and poured you each a glass, the two of you toasting to your marriage and the start of your family before drinking and chatting, laughter quickly filling the room. The bottle was over halfway empty, and you both were buzzed.

“You’re fucking with me,” he said with a grin. His arm was resting on the edge of the tub, holding his flute of bubbly. The man always had to be touching you, his other palm under the water rubbing up and down your calf, but it paused when he spoke.

Your smile got bigger. “I’m not!” you laughed. Your champagne was sitting on the bathtub’s rim, your fingers fiddling with the stem of the glass. “When I graduated nursing school,” you said, “I was trying to figure out what I wanted to specialize in. So, I did a rotation in labor and delivery, and I had this mother in labor who needed a C-section. Like, it’d been hours with zero progress, and the doctor called it. She told the couple, and I quote, ‘This baby has to come out the other way.’ I shit you not, after the doctor left, the father looked at me and asked, ‘They’re gonna pull the baby out of her butt?’”

He huffed amusedly, his head shaking in disbelief. “Jesus.” He took a sip of his drink and set it back down.

“It was so hard not to laugh,” you said. “Surprisingly, not the dumbest or wildest thing anyone has ever said to me at work.”

His expression turned curious. “What’s the wildest thing someone has said to you?”

“Ummm.” Your eyes left his to think about it for a second, your mind running through many memorable interactions until one in particular stuck out. Your attention went back to him. “Probably the guy who may or may not have been a gang member who gave me his number and told me if I ever needed someone taken out—as in murdered—to give him a call. He even said it’d be free of charge, which was weirdly sweet? Not that I’d actually take him up on it,” you clarified, lifting your glass to your lips for a sip.

His eyes rounded. “What…?”

Your champagne returned to its spot on the tub’s edge. “It’s kinda like how people propose to me all of the time because they’re so thankful I brought them food after they fasted for their procedures. When scary-looking dudes who may or may not have gang ties come to the hospital, and you treat them like any other patient—you know, with dignity and respect—they really, really appreciate it. Their way of thanking you is by offering their services or illegal goods.”

His eyebrows drew together. “Illegal goods, like drugs…?”

“Sure, and weapons.” You shrugged. “One guy offered me illegal European cheeses, and I won’t lie, that one was tempting.”

“Do you still have the contacts?”

“No. I never kept their info, and let’s be real, they weren’t using their actual names. Once they left the hospital, they were no longer my patient, and what they did was none of my business. Snitches get stitches and all that jazz.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, and his hand began a new circuit along the skin of your leg. “What’s the dumbest thing someone said?” He had another sip.

“Oh, listen to this. A male patient came into the ER complaining about abdominal pain. After the doctor did a quick exam, he ordered an ultrasound. When we told the patient about the ultrasound, he shouted, ‘I’m not pregnant! I’m a man!’”

“You’re fucking with me,” Javi said again, looking just as amused as the first time, his champagne flute hovering over the water.

“I swear I’m not!” you giggled. “He said that! This guy was in his mid-fifties, too. His wife was so embarrassed. The doctor had to pull out a fucking human anatomy diagram to educate the dude.”

“I’d be a shitty nurse. I wouldn’t have the patience for all of the stupidity.”

“Oh my god,” you laughed, thinking about Javi as a nurse. “Between your grumpy resting face and the fact you cannot hide what you’re feeling, you’d be so bad. No offense, babe.” You patted his knee underwater.

“None taken. I said it first. It’s nice knowing my wife has the patience of a saint to put up with my bullshit.” He raised his glass your way in toast, then took a drink.

“Stop it. You’re perfect. Now, are you finally gonna tell me how much you spent on this room?”

He smiled, setting his champagne back onto the rim. “No.”

“Rude.”

He chuckled. “Just enjoy it, baby.” Water droplets trickled as he lifted your leg out of the bath and leaned in, kissing the inside of your ankle.

“But I’m curious as fuck,” you whined.

He returned your leg to the water. “I’ll make you a deal,” he said. “Earlier, you mentioned we sometimes have to compromise, so I’ll tell you how I got the room, but I won’t tell you what it cost me.”

That had you perking up. Maybe you could call the front desk and find out the price yourself.

“The front desk won’t tell you,” he continued, looking a little too pleased with himself. Of course, he knew what you were thinking.

You deflated with a sigh. “Fine,” you said. “How were you able to get the room?”

“The manager is mi prima’s (my cousin’s) brother-in-law.”

You grinned. “You’ve got connections. That’s very sexy of you.”

He was smiling, his eyes crinkling at the edges and shining with love—a look you were all too familiar with and hoped he could see on your face. His hand continued stroking your leg.

He chuckled. “Even with connections, it took some negotiating. It was worth it, though. You’re worth it. I know our wedding was pretty short notice, and since we couldn’t get time off from work for me to whisk you away on a real honeymoon—which I plan on doing sometime this year before we have a baby—this was the next best thing to show you how much I love you and what you mean to me. You deserve the very best, and that’s what I’m always gonna give you, and nothing less.”

His words had you melting, your heart skipping a beat. It was a regular occurrence where Javier said or did something that made you wonder once again what you did to deserve him in your life or to be loved in this way you never knew existed. “How did I get so lucky?”

“I’m the lucky one.”

“I beg to differ because I am married to arguably the greatest man on earth, who worships me like a goddess, and that’s not even an exaggeration. A freaking goddess! Me! Insane.” It was crazy how much you loved this man, and the alcohol had your feelings threatening to burst from your lips. So, you let them. “I need to tell you something.”

“Yeah?”

“You make me feel so safe. You make me feel comfortable and so fucking loved. Javi, I’ve never been so loved, and I know it’s sad, and you hate thinking about it, but I’ve never had someone love me unconditionally like you do.” The emotions had tears welling up in your eyes. “I’ve never experienced a love like this that I feel deep in my soul, and that’s how I know it’s real. I’m not as poetic as you are, so I’m just going to say what comes to mind. Prepare yourself for some sappy bullshit.”

He was watching you with a fond expression and watery eyes. “I’m ready.”

“Hold my hand.” You reached out to him, and he grasped your fingers, his thumb rubbing over the tops of them. You cleared your throat to compose yourself. “There was an emptiness inside my chest?” You said it in question. “A lifelong longing for something I never knew I needed until you came along. You redefined the void. You gave it meaning. You’ve shown me what it is to be seen, to be cherished, to be truly loved. You’ve shown me a world that, up until you entered mine, was nothing more than a fantasy I’d only ever dreamed about. It was something out of reach, you know? But here you are, a dream come true, who loves me unconditionally, and for that, you have my love, you have my total devotion, you get my every morning and my every night. You get slow dances in the kitchen and four a.m. grilled cheeses—ooh, I like how that kinda rhymes.” Your husband laughed, his lips curved up in a smile. “I’m not half bad at this. Javi, I am going to give you the life you’ve always deserved but never felt worthy of—a wife, kids, dog, house, and hopefully, happiness. I want to make you as happy as you make me. This is my long way of saying I love you, Javier Peña. Thank you for loving me.”

“I’m so fucking happy,” he replied. “Come here.” He beckoned you toward him, lightly tugging your hand. Without another thought, you moved, the bath sloshing as you pushed yourself up onto your knees and crawled into his lap, straddling his thighs. Javi wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tightly to his body, your face nestled into the curve of his neck. His head tilted to touch yours. “I love you,” he said. “I love you so fucking much. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about how fucking lucky I am to have you. I’ve never been happier than when I’m with you, and sometimes I catch myself wondering if this is all a dream. You have no idea how many times I’ve almost pinched myself because being with you feels so right and so perfect that I think it all has to be too good to be true, and I’m gonna wake up alone in my bed at the ranch or in fucking Colombia.” You gasped, your heart squeezing at how heartbreaking that was. “Being with you is teaching me that life can be kind and there is hope for the future. You’re my future, and even though there are moments where it feels too surreal and too fucking good, it is real. What we have is real, and I am grateful for you. I will forever be grateful that you chose me, and I will never take for granted a single day that I get to share my life with you.” His head turned to kiss your cheek. “This is my long way of saying I love you, too. Thank you for loving me.”

“Oh, Javi.” You sat up, taking his face into your hands. Sitting in his lap, you were taller than him, and his chin raised to look at you with his red-rimmed eyes. “It is real. It’s so fucking real. I love you.”

That was an understatement of how you felt about him. Not when it felt as if his heart was beating in your chest, and looking into his eyes was like coming home—the familiarity, the comfort, the safety. Almost as if you’d always known that those irises, with their unique mix of chocolatey-colored hues, would belong to the one who was meant for you. A recognition, a certainty when your gazes met that he was your person, your other half.

Emotions had you smashing your mouth against his, kissing him hard. You poured your love into each press of your lips to his, letting him taste the devotion on your tongue. His arms were wrapped around your middle, holding you flush to him. It didn’t matter that you’d already come a handful of times tonight. The things he said had you wanting, no, needing him again, the desire searing through your veins and pooling in your belly.

An interesting side effect of being in love with Javi and knowing he loved you, too, was how it made you so fucking horny. Confessing your love to one another was basically foreplay, and wasn’t that adorable? A couple of love-sick fools getting turned on from loving each other. Robyn would absolutely fake-gag if you told her about you and your husband’s love kink.

He sounded breathless when he came up for air. “I love you.” He messily kissed your chin and the shape of your jaw. “I fucking love you,” he murmured into your skin.

“I love you, too.” His face was still framed in your hands, and you pushed him back to gain access to the line of his neck, your head dipping to swipe your tongue up his salty skin.

“Jesus,” he breathed, his throat bobbing. You rocked your hips, rubbing his already half-hard cock with your cunt, his hands grabbing ahold of your ass, the soft flesh firmly filling his palms as he helped you move. You sucked over his pulse point hard enough to leave a mark, Javi groaning, “Fuck, I love you.” The words vibrated under your mouth, making your lips curl in delight.

“I love you, too, Javi.” Your mouth traveled up to take his earlobe between your teeth, nibbling on it before your lips were at his ear. “I really fucking love you.”

“I’m yours.” His fingers dug into your asscheeks, moving you. “You fucking own me. I’m yours forever.”

“And I’ll always be yours, Javi. Always. For-fucking-ever.”

His large hand came up, lightly grasping your jaw to maneuver your face in front of his, Javier’s lips colliding with yours. This kiss was much more frantic, the headiness of passion overtaking you both, matching each other's energy, heartbeat for heartbeat, breath for breath. He was completely hard as you rolled your hips along his shaft, the bath’s water lapping at the sides of the tub. Your arms went around his neck, threading your fingers into the hair at the back of his head.

You loved this man so much that he was your entire world, everything that mattered, and the wild thing was, he felt the same way about you—you were his entire world and everything that mattered to him. It was an intoxicating feeling to love and to be loved.

The sweet heat of want burned at the base of your spine, the tension rising with each desperate kiss until it hit a breaking point. In sync, your mouths separated, you lifted your hips high enough for Javi to position his cock at your entrance, and then you sank onto it.

“That’s it, baby.”

“Yes,” you gasped when he was fully seated inside of you.

There was nothing better than the familiar fullness or how he stretched you open.

Your gazes were locked.

“I love you so fucking much,” he said. “Use me, Cielito. Make yourself come. I wanna feel you.”

He didn’t give you a chance to respond. Javi leaned up to capture your lips once more, his hands gripping handfuls of your ass. Your palms slid up his flushed chest to grab his shoulders, and you did what he said: you started moving. You ground your hips, keeping most of him inside you while rubbing your clit on the coarse hairs at the base of his dick. Sparks danced in your core, your pulse pounding. Your husband helped you grind in his lap.

“Te amo (I love you),” he said between kisses. “Te amo muchísimo, mi amor (I love you so much, my love). Eres mi todo (You are my everything). Toma lo que es tuyo (Take what is yours).”

“I love you, too, Javi.” Pleasure built, and the coil in your tummy started to tighten. “I fucking love you. I’ll always love you.” Your hips circled in the most delicious rotations.

His tongue delved between your lips, plundering your mouth, moans coming from the back of your throat. With how close you were physically—your bodies pressed together like pieces of a puzzle—and emotionally—your love and devotion for each other—this was the closest you’d ever been with another person, and it felt much more intimate than sex. It was something deeper. Something on a different level where you were caught up in one another, lost in your own little world and the overwhelming feeling of love. Maybe it was the oxytocin, the love hormone, flooding your system that had you thinking this must be what it felt like when your souls came together, the two halves melding to become one.

The water splashed against your back and ribs, the bath’s jets continued to rumble. You didn’t stop the rocking of your hips or sloppily kissing your husband. He felt so good inside you, the pressure on your clit pushing you higher and higher.

“Eres mi vida (You are my life).” It was muffled into your lips. “Eres todo para mí (You are everything to me). Quiero que me uses como tú quieras (I want you to use me however you want).” He switched to English. “I wanna feel my wife come. You gonna get yourself off?“

“Yes.”

“My good girl. I love you. Take what you need, mi amor. Don’t stop. You come, I come. I’m following you. You’re taking me with you.”

Your orgasm was close, the muscles in your stomach winding tighter and tighter.

“I will, Javi. I will. I fucking love you.”

This man you married knew exactly what would have you careening toward your climax. He took your breasts into his hands, ducking his head to suck on your hardened nipple, his fingers teasing the other one. It felt like every nerve ending in your body lit up, your eyes closed, the shock of it making you cry out.

“I love you,” you repeated. “I love you, I love you, I love you—”

Each time you rolled your hips, it created the best friction against your clit, and that, combined with the attention he was giving your tits, had you tumbling over the edge, coming with a gasp of his name. This orgasm was softer than the others. When your body tensed and your cunt squeezed him, Javi hissed. He grabbed your ass, his fingers digging into your flesh as he used his strength to keep moving you in his lap. He kept those gentle waves of pleasure flowing through you, letting you ride out your high while your husband chased his own.

“I’m yours, Javi,” you told him. When you opened your eyes, you saw his were shut tight, and his teeth were bared. It was that sexy look he got when he was close to coming; he just needed a push to get there. You touched your forehead to his, your fingers clutched in his hair. “I’m yours, baby. I want you to come. I want my husband to come. I want you to fill me up and fuck it so deep inside me you knock me up.” He whined, and that just encouraged you. “Get me pregnant, Javi. Let me have it. Let me feel it.”

“Fuck,” he gasped. “I love you. I’m gonna—Christ—I’m gonna fuck a baby into you. I’m gonna fuck you full of my come. Fuck it—shit—fuck it so deep in your pussy it takes. Te amo, te amo, te amo, te amo más que a nada (I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you more than anything).” The groan he let out was guttural. He hugged you to him, holding you still, his face pressing against your throat as he came. His teeth sunk into your neck, the pleasurable pain causing you to moan. His cock jerked inside you with each spurt of his spend gushing into your inner depths, and when it stopped, his heavy breaths were hot on your skin.

The only sound in the bathroom was the tub's jets. The water had turned lukewarm. The large mirror on the opposite wall over the two sinks was still fogged up. It was peaceful and calm. Time stood still in this little bubble where you luxuriated in one another and those happy chemicals flowing through your bodies. All of your muscles relaxed, making you melt into your husband. Javi nuzzled his face into your neck, and your fingernails lovingly scratched at his scalp, earning you a happy hum.

You loved these moments. You loved how comfortable it was to hold each other, your bodies and souls bare. You didn’t feel self-conscious or a need to cover up. You just wanted to share in the afterglow with the man you loved.

Javier told you once that his favorite part of having sex was this: the post-sex glow when you cuddled close and came down with the other person. He loved the intimacy of it. He craved it. He also revealed that down in Colombia, he’d pay the sex workers he slept with extra to stay with him longer instead of leaving immediately after he came so he could have some semblance of that intimacy. It was a little sad if you thought about it too hard; if you thought about how lonely and touch-starved he was, that was made exponentially worse because his love language was physical touch. You’d never let him feel that loneliness again. You were happy to spend those minutes with him after you both finished, cradled in his arms. You were happy to give him that intimacy he craved. You were happy to do whatever it took to make him feel as loved as he made you.

Seconds turned into minutes. Finally, Javi broke the stillness with a kiss to the skin his face was pressed against.

“Javi?”

“Hmmm?”

“I love you.”

He was smiling when his head lifted to look you in the eyes, and you matched his expression.

“I love you, too.”

“I have a serious question.”

His smile fell. “Yeah?”

“Are you a sea lion?”

As expected, his face pinched in confusion.

“What…?”

“Are you a sea lion?” you repeated.

“What do you mean…?”

“I mean, you must be a sea lion ‘cause I can sea-you-lion in my bed tonight.” To really sell it, you wagged your eyebrows.

He tried to hold in the laugh, his cheeks flushing red, but he couldn’t keep it in. He sputtered into full-on laughter, his eyes practically disappearing with how they crinkled in glee. It had you cracking up, too, joining him in the merriment. His head fell against your shoulder as you both laughed at your stupid pick-up line.

It took you back to your wedding ceremony, when you both vowed your marriage would be filled with love, happiness, and laughter. Which was another thing you loved about your husband: he made you feel comfortable enough to be your true goofy self. Something you didn’t feel in your past relationships. But Javi–even with him being a somewhat serious, no-nonsense guy—he appreciated your humor and laughed at your dumb jokes. He never made you feel stupid or embarrassed, and it was truly a breath of fresh air that you could simply be you.

Eventually, you both calmed down. Your husband kissed your cheek and then sat up, rubbing his palms up and down your ribs. He looked at you with soft eyes and a sweet smile.

“I am so fucking in love with you,” he said.

You grinned. “And I am so fucking in love with you,” you replied, poking the tip of his nose. He snatched your hand, lifting it to his lips to kiss your wedding ring.

“I love you naked like this,” he rasped. His burning gaze traveled from your face to your breasts, drinking in the sight of you before his eyes returned to yours. “But you know what would look really good on you?”

“Lingerie? That red thong you love?”

“Me.”

“Oh,” you gasped, your eyes widening. “That just made my pussy flutter.”

“I know.” Because he was still inside you.

You gulped. “Can I, uh, see your left hand real quick?” It came out of the water, dripping. He held it straight up for you to see the back of it. You stared at his fingers, seeing the gold band on his ring finger, and nodded. “Yep, that is a wedding ring. Jesus, you really did marry me. Me. That’s fucking crazy.”

“Stop that.”

Your attention went back to him to see he was frowning. “Stop what?”

He sighed and took both of your hands into his. “Thinking I’m out of your league. I hate it. Cielito, you’re fucking beautiful. Say it. Say, ‘I’m beautiful.’”

“You’re beautiful.”

He gave you a grumpy look. “You know what I meant. Say it.”

The thought of repeating it made you wince, but you did it anyway. You mumbled, “I’mbeautiful.”

“Say it louder.”

“I hate this,” you whined.

“And we’re working on fixing that. So, say it again.”

You took a deep breath. This was so fucking hard. “I’m beautiful.”

He smiled. “You are. Repeat it.”

“I’m beautiful.”

“Again.”

“How many times are we doing this?”

“As many as it takes for you to believe it. Again.”

You sighed. “I’m beautiful.”

“What are you?”

“I’m beautiful.”

He made you say it five more times, and it got easier each time you said it.

“One more,” he ordered.

“I’m beautiful.”

“Good girl.” He closed the gap to kiss you, his big hands coming up to caress your face. When his lips left yours, he nudged your nose with his. “You’re beautiful, smart, funny, sweet, sexy, talented, and an amazing partner. You’re perfect. I need you to remember that. You’re perfect,” he said again, “and I am lucky to have you as my wife.”

“Thank you, Javi. You know I struggle when it comes to that stuff.”

“Yeah, I do know. We’ll keep working on it.” He kissed your forehead.

“I’m lucky to have such a supportive husband who calls me out on my bullshit.”

He huffed. “You do the same for me. I love you, mi amor.”

“I love you, too.” You pecked him on the lips, then pulled back when you started to yawn, covering your mouth with your hand.

“You ready for bed?” he asked.

The question made you realize you were exhausted. “God, yeah.”

“Let’s go, baby.”

Thirty minutes later found you dry, your teeth brushed, and naked under the covers, with Javi spooning you from behind. The curtains were closed, the bedroom dark save for the alarm clock on the bedside table, whose glowing red numbers told you it was almost two a.m. Your husband’s arm was around your front, your hand over his on your breast, your rings touching. His nose was buried in the hair at the back of your head.

It was cozy and warm, feeling so happy and loved. Sleep was coming for you, and your eyelids were getting heavy, your thoughts slowing. In your sleepy haze, you remembered something.

“Javi?” you whispered.

“Yes, Cielito?” he answered just as quietly.

“I just realized Valentine’s Day is next month. I don’t know if you have anything planned yet, but you know what I’d love to do?”

“What?”

“You.”

He chuckled, hugging you a little tighter and kissing your hair. “That’s what we’ll do then. Any other requests?”

You smiled, wiggling back to get closer to him. “Nope. Do you have any requests?”

He was going to ask for the red thong.

“You said something about the red thong in the bath.”

There it was. You giggled. “You got it, babe.” You patted his hand, your rings clinking together. “Sweetest dreams, my wonderful, perfect husband.”

“They’ll be about you, my wonderful, perfect wife. I love you, Cielito.”

“I love you, too.”

Steve lifted his wrist to check the time, the hands on the watch face showing 3:16 p.m.

He frowned. He could’ve sworn he told Javier earlier when they talked on the phone to meet in the hotel restaurant at three p.m. Not 3:30, three on the dot, because he had to get Connie and the kids to Laredo’s tiny airport by six p.m. for their flight to Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport, where they’d get on a bigger plane to take them home to Miami.

Where the hell were the newlyweds?

He was sitting at the head of the long eight-person dining room table at the hotel’s restaurant, Zaragoza Grill, with a clear view of the entrance. Instead of a chair to his right, there was a wooden highchair with his one-year-old, Nate, sitting in it, chewing on a small slice of bread from the bread basket. Connie was next to their youngest in the middle seat, talking to Stevie, their three-year-old, on her other side while he used crayons to color the paper kids’ menu the hostess had given him. Olivia was at the other end of the table, opposite Steve, coloring her own menu.

His arm lowered as he looked at his wife. “Con?” he said.

Her head turned his way. “Yes?”

“I told Javi three, right? Not, 3:30?”

“Yes, you told him three.”

“Why aren’t they here yet?”

“Honey, they got married yesterday. You remember what it was like the days after our wedding. All of the laundry we folded.” She smiled.

‘Folding laundry’ was their codeword for sex, and he absolutely remembered the days following their wedding. They went at it like fucking rabbits and didn’t leave their hotel room in Cabo San Lucas for days.

He smirked. “How could I forget our honeymoon, baby? We had a good time. A really good time. You know, we should go back to Mexico. Maybe we could get your sister to watch the kids while we go on a little vacation.”

She rolled her eyes. “Keep dreaming, Steve. We’re not gonna be able to go on vacation alone until Nate graduates high school, and that’s a good seventeen years away.”

He sighed. She was right. They couldn’t pawn their children off on someone to fuck off to Mexico for a week. “You’re right, sweetheart.”

“I always am.”

That was the end of their conversation, Connie’s attention returning to Stevie.

Behind him was a table for two against the brick wall. The young women sitting at it had walked by them when they were seated, and he estimated they were in their twenties. He couldn’t help eavesdropping on their conversation when one of the girls asked, “Can you believe all that noise last night?”

“Oh my god, I know, right? Like from what it sounded like, either the woman in the room above us was getting it real good, or the rumors are true, and this place is actually haunted. But I just don’t think spirits of nuns would make those noises, you know what I mean?”

“Girl, the moaning? The screaming? The sound of that pounding? Whoever was staying upstairs is one lucky bitch. Her man knows what he’s doing, and I don’t blame her for not being able to stay quiet. I also think they probably figured that since they were on the third floor, no one would hear them going at it.”

Steve inhaled deeply, shaking his head. He knew who was staying on the third floor—he’d even been inside the massive suite. Javier had handed over $150 per night, a pair of expensive courtside tickets to a San Antonio Spurs vs. three-time defending NBA champions Chicago Bulls game, and all of his wife’s tamales from his and his father’s freezers for it. The hotel apparently didn’t rent out the Presidential Suite to just anyone to keep its allure of being something exclusive for the rich and famous who passed through the area. Javier’s local fame, unfortunately, wasn’t enough.

That didn’t stop him, though.

His pal could be a real stubborn son of a bitch.

Javier got intel that the manager was a huge fan of his mom’s tamales and the San Antonio Spurs. He lucked out that his wife’s tamales were the closest to his late mother’s, so he bribed the manager with fifty-something tamales and the highly sought-after tickets to the Spurs vs. Bulls game to book the place at full price.

There was no way in hell Steve would ever pay $150 per night for a hotel room. That was a month and a half’s worth of mortgage payments on his four-bedroom, four-bath home in Florida, for Christ’s sake. The only reason Steve rented a two-room, double-queen suite here in Texas was because Javi and his wife paid for it. They wanted his family to have roomy accommodations since they had their three kids, which was greatly appreciated, and their room only cost a reasonable fifty dollars a night.

Movement at the restaurant’s entrance caught his attention, and he watched as the new Mr. and Mrs. Javier Peña made their way inside. Steve snorted at seeing the newlyweds in matching outfits of jeans and lavender-colored shirts, Javi’s a button-up, and his wife in a V-neck. If that wasn’t ridiculous enough, they were practically fused together, with her tucked under his arm and pressed against his side, their heads close together, smiling and talking as they walked his way.

Steve had been friends with Javier for close to twenty years, and in all that time, he had never seen his best friend happier than he was with his bride. He wasn’t the same man Steve knew in Colombia. He wasn’t even the same man who lived with his family after he took down the Cali Cartel and quit his job. He changed, and he changed for the better.

To be honest, at first, Steve worried about his friend leaving the DEA and returning to civilian life. Javi had all of the signs of being what they call a lifer—someone who spends, if not all, then a significant portion of their career with the same agency. He’d been married to his job and fully committed to seeing it through no matter what it cost him. He didn’t visit his parents for years, and when his mother tragically passed away, he’d only gone home for a few days. Instead of grieving her death, he threw himself into his work. It sure as hell wasn’t healthy, but it was what he had to do to keep going.

Steve was so fucking thankful his friend got out and was getting a second chance. After all of the bullshit he went through, Javier deserved to be happy, and there was no doubt that this girl he married made him happy. She was the best thing to happen to him, and even though they needed to cool it with the PDA in front of his kids, Steve could admit they were really good for each other. He would never say it out loud, but he thought it was cute that a grumpy fucker like Javi ended up someone so bright and cheery.

He rechecked his watch to see it was 3:20 p.m.

The couple approached the table.

“Hey, guys,” the dark-haired man greeted as he pulled out the chair across from Connie for his wife to sit in. “Sorry, we’re late.” He got her settled, kissing the top of her head before taking the seat to Steve’s left.

“Tío (Uncle)!” Stevie shouted and hopped off his chair to run around the table to Javier.

His friend smiled. “Hey, mi principito (my little prince),” he grunted as he lifted the child into his lap.

When Javier was around, Steve and Connie no longer existed to their two eldest kids. Did that bother them? No. It gave them a break, and they weren’t going to be mad about that. They never expected Javi to take on the role of an uncle to their children. They never expected him to be as great as he was with their kids, either. He took his title of tío (uncle) seriously and loved the little Murphys as if they were his flesh and blood. It honestly caught Steve off guard the first time he saw how gentle and sweet Javi was with Olivia.

Steve could admit that at first, he didn’t like that his friend was so good and helpful with his daughter because it made him look bad. Steve grew up believing that, aside from the occasional diaper change, everything involving the children was his wife’s job. Looking back, he could see how that was a shitty way of thinking, and he felt ashamed for putting Connie through all of that. Seeing everything Javi did and how it helped his wife ended up being the swift kick in the ass he needed to step up and be a better father and husband.

“We lost track of time,” the bride said. “Empire Strikes Back was on the TV.”

That title sounded familiar.

“Is that one of those,” Steve started. “What’s it called? Star Trek movies?”

“Star Wars,” Javi corrected. Stevie got off his lap to run back to his original chair to grab his menu.

Nate had lost interest in the bread, so Connie put it on the table in front of the baby. Steve leaned down to his right to get into the diaper bag on the floor, grabbing a bottle of watered-down apple juice that he handed to the one-year-old as he sat back up.

“The ones with those, uh, laser swords?” Steve asked.

Javi sighed. “Lightsabers.”

“Never pegged you as a sci-fi guy.”

“Oh,” Mrs. Peña interjected. She looked past her husband at him. “Javi’s a space nerd.”

Steve smiled. “Is he, now?”

His son returned, holding the paper up to his tío (uncle). “Look!” He had crayons clutched in his other hand.

Javi’s attention went to the toddler. “Were you coloring, bud?” The man put the child in his lap again, and the page with a rainbow of scribbles on the table in front of them. “It looks good, buddy. What are you getting to eat?” He had an arm over the back of his wife’s chair, his other hand pointing at the list of three options, reading what each one was. Mrs. Peña watched the interaction with a fond expression.

Steve looked at Connie. “Honey?”

She met his eyes. “Yes, baby?”

“Five bucks says our kids will have a new cousin by the end of the year.”

She smiled. “I’d be stupid to take that bet.”

“She’s right,” Javi added before going back to talking to Stevie.

“Y’all are no fun.” Steve pouted.

The server interrupted to take their drink orders. After she left, Olivia called from across the table. “Tío (Uncle)?”

Javi turned to see her concerned face. “¿Sí, mi tesorito (Yes, my little treasure)?”

She asked him something in Spanish while pointing at his head, and whatever the question was made the other man’s cheeks flush and his new wife’s eyes widen. Connie looked where their daughter indicated and tried but failed to stifle a giggle.

“What did she ask?” Steve asked. His eyes traveled to each adult, hoping for an explanation.

Javier’s expression could be described as ‘panicked’ when he met Connie’s eyes. She didn’t even let him say anything. “Don’t look at me. I don’t know what happened, so you have to take this one.”

“What did she ask?” he tried again.

Connie caught his gaze and put her hand up to hide her mouth from Olivia while she mouthed at him, ‘Hickey,’ and pointed at the side of her neck. Great. Steve pressed his fingers to his forehead and sighed. They better come up with a believable excuse. His daughter did not need to be finding out what hickies were.

Javi finally answered Olivia in Spanish, and the young girl asked him another question Steve didn’t catch.

He hated it when they did this. He could make out some words, but his daughter and her tío (uncle) sometimes spoke too quickly for him to understand. They also liked to make it obvious when they were talking shit about him because they found it funny and enjoyed annoying the hell out of him.

Javier smiled and shook his head as he replied.

“What are they talking about?” Steve asked.

His friend’s missus threw him a bone. “Olivia asked about the bruise on Javi’s neck, and he told her what happened; he hit it on something last night, and he’s embarrassed about it.” That was a decent excuse. “She also wondered if it hurt, and he reassured her that it didn’t. Is that right, guys?” She addressed the uncle and niece.

His daughter said, “Yep!”

Javi turned his way and nodded. “Yeah.” He glanced over to Olivia and then back to Steve as he said something in Spanish that his daughter laughed at.

This was shit that made his jaw clench. “Hey, you guys know it’s against the rules to talk about me in Spanish.”

“Who said we were talking about you?” Javi replied. His attention returned to Olivia, the two of them, plus his wife, chatting in the language Steve barely understood.

“Leave them alone, Steve,” Connie said, and his eyes went to her. “It’s good practice for Olivia.”

“It’s rude,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

The server returned with their drinks, and the newlyweds had a chance to look over their menus, so the table ordered their food. Minutes passed. While Stevie was occupied with coloring, and the women were talking to his daughter about some show or movie he’d never heard of, Javier leaned his way and whispered for only him to hear, “Why does Olivia think I play baseball?”

The blonde man’s eyebrows knit together as he thought over the question. Why would Olivia think that Javi played baseball? It hit him: the conversation Connie and he had the day before on their way to the party after the ceremony. They used baseball terms to discuss whether the newlyweds would figure out how to fool around on the drive back to the reception.

He leaned toward his friend to reply just as quietly, “She wasn’t supposed to mention it to you.”

“Mention what?”

“It was nothing.”

“It was obviously something because your daughter is under the impression that I am a shitty baseball player.”

Steve had to hold in his laugh, air quickly leaving his nose. He needed to give his friend some kind of answer.

“You know how Connie and I use ‘folding laundry’ as a codeword?” he whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Well, we were talking more in-depth about the topic, but we used baseball terminology, so if the children overheard, they wouldn’t know what the hell we were talking about.”

“And it was about me…?”

“Yes.”

“Why were you discussing my sex life…?”

“You really wanna know?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

“Okay. I was being an ass and bet Connie that you horndogs wouldn’t be able to keep it in your pants on the drive to the party.”

“She would’ve lost. I hope she didn’t take it.”

“Of course, she didn’t, and I sure as hell didn’t take her bet that you guys would be able to wait until you got back to the hotel to score the first run on opening day.”

“Consummate our marriage?”

“Yeah.”

“That was a losing bet, too.”

“How the hell did you manage that with your wife driving?” he harshly whispered. She drove the two of them from the ceremony to Chucho’s house. “Wait, don’t tell me.”

“It was later on our way to the hotel,” he told him anyway. “We stopped in a field.”

“Are you guys trying to get arrested?”

“It was in the middle of nowhere. We were fine.”

Whatever happened to saving those kinds of activities for the bedroom?

“Uh huh, right.”

“Hold on a second, if Olivia overheard your baseball shit and assumed I played, where’d she get the idea that I’m bad at it? Did you fucking tell her that?”

Again, Steve had to keep himself from laughing, but this time, when he whispered, his voice was a little squeaky. “Maybe…”

His friend sat back to glare at him and forgot to keep his voice low. “You asshole.”

“You ass’ole!” the three-year-old in Javi’s lap parroted. “You ass’ole!”

The other man’s eyes rounded. “Oh, Shit. I mean, shoot.”

Steve groaned. “Goddammit, Javier,” he hissed.

“OH, SHI’!” Stevie yelled at the top of his lungs. He turned his head to look at Steve, pointing at him. “Daddy, you ass’ole!”

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