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wa1ks · 1 year ago

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actually bawling this is amazing...thank you lana 🫶

𝙱.𝙰.𝚁.𝙴.𝙵.𝙾.𝙾.𝚃

⋆ ★ 𝙹𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝙷𝚎𝚝𝚏𝚒𝚎𝚕𝚍

" 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐... " ⋆ ★

part nine of multiple

𝙱.𝙰.𝚁.𝙴.𝙵.𝙾.𝙾.𝚃 • 𝙲.𝙾.𝙽.𝚃.𝙴.𝙽.𝚃.𝚂

⋆ ★ warnings: smut

⋆ ★ word count: 7.4k

the contents of this story will not be for everyone. if you aren't comfortable with unethical and/or age-gap relationships, then do not read.

»»———-　story by 30-3am　———-««

Chapter Nine - Things I’ve Already Heard

He could still taste her, lingering on his bruised lips and tainting him with an amalgamation of guilt that was swimming around in the deep end of his brain, kicking closer and closer to where the water was shallow. He was annoyed, confused and disgusted with himself for not immediately shutting down her advances. The short-term embarrassment at his rejection wouldn’t be half as bad as the development of a relationship that would begin crashing as soon as it started. However, he hadn’t pushed her away. She had been so eager, her mouth moving against his with a greed that only occurred in youth, her hands fisting into his shirt with a desperation that had only come to him through the falsities of women he used to know. And, god, the way she had melted into him, so pliant in his grasp, her skin so soft under his undeserving hands; he had unleashed every repressed thought and urge, silently, into the kiss. No words had been exchanged, just the connecting of lips and her skin under his fingers.

He’d felt the twitch in his pants, the unmistakable hardening as his hands roamed over her soft…soft skin, and the only thought in his head was ripping those shorts off and breaking the boundary separating them.

Then, the phone rang and it was like he’d been hit clean over the head, passed out and woke up sensible.

He hadn’t wanted to pull away, but he needed to. He would've gone too far if he didn’t. He would’ve scared her away and hindered all kinds of progress they’d made since they’d embarked on this fucked up relationship. Although, from the look on her face as he pulled away, it was only fair to assume that whatever they had was already ruined. It was crumbling before his eyes, the kiss being a catalyst for the ruination and taking her away quicker than he anticipated. And even if there was some hope that it was salvageable, it was completely desecrated when he’d seen her face through the kitchen window.

As soon as he had stumbled outside, hastily closing the door behind him and trying to palm away the ache and the pressure between his legs, there was a strong sense of change. It rolled over him in waves, pressing down on his chest and cracking his ribcage with its force.

He couldn’t rely on his rationality to help him through his predicament because there was no reasonableness left within him. His, usually, organised thoughts weren’t filed how they normally were - paper everywhere and ink smeared. And when he’d turned back around to glance through the window, intent on seeing her face again, childishly hoping she would be smiling at him and waiting for him to return, everything around him collapsed.

He was greeted by the sight of her eyes on the ground, gnawing on her bottom lip and mind working fast as she questioned and questioned. The ringing of his phone had become more incessant as he stared at her, conflicted between keeping his morality and his righteousness. He wondered what would happen if he ran to her, wrapped her up in his arms to carry her up the stairs and lay her on the bed. He wanted to open her up on his tongue and his fingers…pull every cry and moan from her lips and love her. He wanted to give her so much love - show her what she hadn’t experienced and teach her things she had never been taught.

But it all circled back to the same point he had reiterated many times over. It would not work. Heather was so far out of reach, not even in the same realm as he. James had worked through his pain, the torment and terrors of being a young adult in a world that felt like it was not made for him and Heather, God bless her soul, was experiencing that same agony presently. He would only add to the pain if he were to give her the false impression that he could stay with her.

When he had met her, he had promised himself only one thing: he would help. That would be the extent of his kindness and once he knew she was safe and well, he would drive off into the sunset and leave her with the knowledge that there was someone out there willing to offer her a helping hand. Instead, she had construed his philanthropy as something more, something that, as soon as he realised himself what it was, terrified him to the point of no return. He should’ve known. He should’ve known that a girl like her, with little parental guidance would grasp him with an iron fist and refuse to let go. He should’ve known that someone like him showing up in her life would only lead to an inevitable and unmovable attraction. He just hadn’t known that he would ever feel that same attraction towards her - that he would change the harmless appeal shown by her into a depraved and injudicious relationship that had now reached its limit.

“James you there?” The voice over the phone was insignificant to him, his mind focused on her as he watched her through the window. She was lingering in the space where immorality lay, staring at the spot he had stood in. “James?” Then, she began to shake, and without noticing his longing gaze, hurried off and out of his line of sight. “James?”

The voice down the phone was irritated as it implored him to speak, pulling him from the feeling of dread and contrition making its way around his body and forcing bile to rise to his throat. He felt sick and shaky as he held the phone to his ear.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here.” He strode towards the nearest seat he could see, sinking into the cushion and running a hand down his face. “Connection’s shitty.”

The phone conversation lasted longer than he could bear, his head too full to answer the questions thrust at him down the phone. It was business. Nothing more, nothing less. Things that he hadn’t been there for were relayed to him, obligatory questions about how his vacation was going mingled in with the important information. James replied how he should, remaining calm and providing the right answers. It was hard to maintain the image given that all he wanted to do was kneel over the edge of the pool and throw up everything in his stomach.

The conversation which only lasted twenty minutes, seemed to drag on for far longer and gave him no time to process anything. The afternoon sun added to the heat spreading throughout his body, leathering his skin as the rays had sweat dripping off the end of his nose. He wanted to go back in the house to cool off and calm down but even after the phone had been put down, he couldn’t bring himself to move. There seemed to be weights on his ankles, preventing him from kicking to the surface as he was dragged under by the current.

The weight of his actions rested heavily on his shoulders and he ran his hands repeatedly over his face as if the movement would solve his problems. The sound of a dog barking in the distance met his ears, followed shortly by the slam of a door and then it was silent again.

He brushed his thumb over his bottom lip, closing his eyes as he remembered what it was like to have his mouth on hers. The tingling was only just beginning to die down, the sensation dwindling as it glowed weakly. Selfishly, he wanted it back. Illogically, he wanted to take it further. But he had so much shame running throughout his veins that he couldn’t even perform the simple pleasantry of seeing if she was okay.

The likelihood was that she had already run off. He didn’t expect her to be there when he went back into the house and didn’t expect to see her that night for their routine drive to the diner. If she ever came back to him, he wasn’t expecting it to be any time soon. When he had been on the phone, he briefly wondered if it would’ve been better if he just left Downey like he had done many times over. He wondered whether it would be better to get in his truck and drive away without a word. Then, he thought back to her and remembered what it felt like to look at her - how if her usual sadness was enough to make him fall to his knees in agony, the look on her face if he left her would finally kill him off.

So, as he was searching for resolutions, leaving Heather was one of many that he put a big red cross through until the paper ripped from how harshly he scribbled. He had whittled it down to two options: he could go back in the house and let her down lightly or he could give her what she wanted.

For his peace of mind, he liked to believe that he would not choose the second option, however tempting it was to him. The first option was sensible and what he liked to think he represented. The first option would not ruin his reputation and would not ruin an already broken girl. It would be the only option that would leave every party fairly happy and ensure that his return home would go as smoothly as possible.

But. But…

A singular ‘but’ was pushing its way around his brain, telling him that the second option wasn’t so bad. What would really happen? They’d continue their usual routine, driving to and from the diner every night and every morning but instead of leaving her with a simple goodbye, he’d leave her with a kiss instead. Also, he would not drop her off a street down from her house, he would take her back to his. Back here. Where all the good memories seemed to be. He’d kiss her some more, have her writhing underneath him as he loved her and then they’d both fall asleep in each other's arms, waiting for morning to befall them so they could do it all over again.

No one would need to know. No one would find out. How could they? He’d make sure that they were careful, especially around her dad and those friends of his who always seemed to be posted at every watchtower in the city. He’d tell her that she couldn’t inform anyone about them, that not even Brittany should know because he would be concerned if Heather’s friend didn’t immediately hate him upon understanding the true nature of their relationship.

However, it was all a strange dream - an unattainable one.

Just the thought of having to tell her to hide encompassed why a relationship would be so infelicitous; the nature of it was almost felonious.

James stared at the clear blue water filling the pool, the light from the sun making ripples appear on the surface. It fractured into profound shapes and blinded him as he refused to look away. He wanted to push his head beneath the water and hear it drown out the noise - feel the liquid trickle into his ears and destroy his cochlea.

The sun was still beating down upon his back, the black of his shirt helping him feel the burn of its rays. It spread throughout his body and a deep shade of red rose to the top layer of his skin. In a matter of minutes, it seemed to brown and leather. Then, it peeled away and as he shed his skin, his mind cleared. The storm that was set on destruction passed; the rain stopped, the wind died down to a gentle breeze and the thunder grumbled in exertion and found it had no voice left.

He had an answer. It wasn’t one she was going to particularly like but he had it.

The disaster a simple kiss could cause…

He scoffed as he stood and his knees cracked under the weight of him. He was old. That was another reason why when he saw her again, he would tell her that she was a very special girl but he was not special enough for her.

Youth brought opportunities. Youth was a time for growth and development. He would only stunt that. Because even if they embarked on a journey they both wanted to travel, it was inevitable that something would sputter and break on the highway; they’d crash and never find each other amongst the wreckage.

The more he thought about it, the more clear the answers became and he was unsure why he was so conflicted before. It shouldn’t have even been a thought.

He stepped through the patio doors he had left open in his bid to escape and left it ajar to let the little breeze cool down the house. Now, it was a case of finding her. If she had left he would go to her tonight. It was never busy in that diner. They would have plenty of time to talk. If she was still ghosting around his house, haunting every corner, he would take a deep breath and rationalise to her why what happened was a mistake. He would let her whine and kick like a bullied child until eventually, she realised what he had been trying to lay out clearly in front of her all this time.

Everything would go back to normal.

However, as he walked on shaky legs through his house, boots that were making his feet hot clicking against the floor, there was a voice in his head that was battling with his decision.

It was only faint, coming from behind him as he took the first step up the stairs, but it was there.

What about how you feel?

He took another step, then another. He gripped onto the bannister in genuine fear that if he didn’t support himself he would topple backwards.

What about how you think about her?

Slowly, he made his way to the landing, his stomach roiling with anxiety as he got closer.

What about what she wants?

It took three long strides across the landing before he was at her door.

She wants you.

He couldn’t. He wouldn’t allow it to happen. It had already gone too far. It had been too far the first time he thought of her in an unorthodox manner; it had gone much farther when he first took himself in his fist and imagined what she would look like underneath him. After that, his disgust outweighed his need and he knew nothing would come of it.

Nothing would come of it. Nothing except unbridled agony when they had to part ways.

The door was firmly shut, and the mystery of whether she remained on the other side was gnawing at his brain. He heard no movement - no indication that she was there. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure if he wanted her to be there. He hadn’t had enough time to think and there was a dull panic as he knocked twice on the wood.

After several moments of waiting, there was no reply; he tried again as he tapped his foot apprehensively.

Still no answer.

Briefly, he thought that maybe it would be best if he just left it alone. If she wanted, she would come to him. But there was a feeling that if she didn’t think he wanted her to, she would not be coming back. So, he reached for the door handle, feeling the cool metal pierce his palm in disapproval of his actions, and slowly began to turn it. His movements were steady and methodical as he heard the click as it opened and the creak as he pushed it agape.

The first thing he saw when he looked into the room was her: asleep on the bed.

He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed, so he settled on the latter as he swallowed down his nerves.

The covers were untouched, the made bed indicating she had fallen atop the covers and fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. Her clothes were not off, her shorts still tempting and her shirt riding up her stomach.

The sight of her helped him soften a little, her parted mouth and her flickering eyelids making her look peaceful. However, there was a certain scrunch to her nose and a downturn of her mouth that reminded him why she was here in the first place. And as the light caught the side of her face, he could see a tear trailing from underneath her eye, journeying over her cheek and settling on the side of her nose. It refused to make the jump off her skin and stubbornly stayed put.

She mustn’t have been asleep long if the tear had managed to crawl its way out of her eye - a tear that had run astray from all the others she produced. His whole being stiffened at the realisation he was the one who had made her cry.

He’d made her cry.

That wasn’t what he was supposed to do. That wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

What a mess he’d made. And yet, as he watched her sleep, studied the pull of her brows as she frowned, he didn’t think he would change a thing about it.

She was still lingering on his lips and he didn’t think he’d ever be able to scrub her off.

But he didn’t mind.

As he watched her, he didn’t mind.

He’d been granted a taste and it was insatiable.

Turning away from her and closing the door behind him, he was grateful for her sleeping state. It gave him more time to think.

23:55

It had grown dark a while ago, the sun setting and casting an orange glow over Downey. The cicadas had turned quiet and the road remained unused except for the occasional car that flashed its headlights through his windows. The house was eerily quiet, a noiseless vibration running along every wall and tainting it with muddy footprints.

He was too aware of her presence upstairs and for the whole nine hours she slept, he did nothing but pace and think. Nothing could distract him and if it wasn’t for how altruistic he was around her, he would’ve woken her by now. But he let her sleep because she needed it. She had looked so tired. The bags under her eyes looked almost painful and she had yawned so much on the journey back to his house that tears had slipped from her eyes.

James hadn’t been that surprised when he’d found her asleep. Even if the kiss should’ve garnered sleeplessness, she had been through so much in one day that she could’ve lost everything all at once and still managed to drift off. He wondered what she was dreaming about. He hoped it wasn’t anything bad.

Sleep used to be a relief for him when he was her age and as he mindlessly flicked through the channels, searching for something that interested him, the thought that she used sleep in the same manner as he once did, had a brief wave of anger pass over him.

It was only short, a flash of rage - a lighter sparking and dying. But it was there. For a moment it was.

Because what kind of sick world would give Heather Palmer a reason to cry? What kind of people would want to see hot and fresh tears slide down her cheeks? To see her sad was like a knife to the heart; to see her cry was like being stabbed repeatedly. She was far from deserving of the treatment she had been subjected to. At times, James didn’t think he’d seen anything as sweet as her. Then, he’d realise that her kindness was a product of constant fear, of always needing to please the people she should’ve been comfortable enough to make mistakes around. Her kindness was her weakness.

What man would he be if he wanted her to stay in that state of subservience and meekness? He always liked a woman with a bite - a wide snapping jaw that rivalled the alligators that lazed in the Florida Everglades. He knew she had sharp teeth under the bluntness. He knew she had something under all that docility. He’d witnessed it. It had only been fleeting but he’d seen it.

“I don’t have anyone like you. I’ve never had anyone like you! And I don’t want you to not do something because you think you know what I need better than I do!”

There had been such a determination in her voice that she didn’t seem like the same person. There, she seemed like someone else. Someone more like herself and it was those words that had him rethinking. As he sat on the couch, watching the time dwindle to early morning, the battle began again. The stalemate ceased and attrition prevailed. His sins wore away at the enemy. His morality retreated into the trenches and cowered under the stone-cold glare of an army of transgression. It wasn’t as if she was innocent - something to be corrupted. Robert Palmer already had his hand on the lever, ready to open up the floor beneath Heather and watch her as she clawed at the rope around her neck; her efforts would be futile as her writhing stopped and the figure of darkness that loomed over the both of them smirked sadistically.

If James did nothing, if he did not point his gun at the executioner and see his brains splatter onto the wall, he’d have to watch Heather die.

He needed time to take the blood of Robert Palmer from her but he would make that time for her.

Even if his methods remained unconventional, he would do it.

The battle raged on as he let the TV flash before his eyes and virtue’s blood seeped into the floor as he heard a creak from the bottom of the stairs.

James snapped his head towards the source of the noise and he saw her through the open door, fluttering around like some strange phantom who’d come to test him. He was terrified of her presence in his house but he let her haunt him. Like a homeless child looking for shelter, she snuck around his house and refused to leave.

The noise from the TV muffled in the background, the channel he had landed on insignificant as he kept his eyes trained on her. She slinked around the door like the archangel Michael, ready to bring justice to their injudicious world.

Her hair had long since dried into waves down her back - sliding over her shoulders and falling in her face and there was a brightness to her features, a glow that edged her irises that told him the sleep had helped. However, as she stepped further into the living room and he inspected her more closely, the brightness was overshadowed by something more powerful: rage. Anger. It swirled in her eyes and travelled down to her clenched fists.

He opened his mouth to speak but was promptly cut off.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” She stood at the arm of the couch - building a barrier between them.

He tried to speak again. She didn’t let him.

“I missed work.” There was a hint of resentment in her voice as she gazed at him, eyes hard and unforgiving.

“You needed to sleep,” James reasoned.

“No.” Heather began to shake her head and her hair that he wanted to run his hands through fell over her shoulders at the movement. “No, I don’t need to sleep. I need to go to work.”

He didn’t think it was right to argue nor was it right to provoke so he attempted to settle the situation with a soft voice and soft eyes.

“I already called your manager, sweetheart,” he said, trying to ignore the fact that he had made her sad and had made her angry all in one day - the two emotions he strived to not make her feel. “I’ve sorted it all. You don’t have to worry.”

His mind flicked back to the conversation he’d had with Hal, how he’d had to explain to the grumbling man that Heather was sick and couldn’t come in. The disagreeable bastard had said that if she wasn’t dying, she was more than well enough to work. James had shut that down with an offer of $300 and Hal had said he would happily close down for the night. However, he wouldn’t mention that to Heather. She was angry enough.

“That wasn’t your decision to make,” she spat, jaw clenched and eyes shooting venom into his. “I’m not gonna get paid now.”

There was a sense of pride as the words tumbled out of her mouth - a small part of him that relished in her berating. This was the girl he had been wanting to see.

“Heather,” he said calmly. “I’ve sorted it.”

She began to stalk towards him, taking a few steps to stand in front of him. She towered over him in this position, her anger rolling off her as he sat like a coward and took whatever she was going to give him.

She looks pretty when she’s angry, he thought before kicking himself for taking away from her development into emotional liberation.

“Stop making decisions for me.” Her frame blocked his view of the TV and he could look nowhere except her. She was framed by the low lamplight, her eyes trained on him as she managed to look so effortlessly gorgeous - an angel. His angel. What a shame she would have to rise to heaven and he could not come with her. “When are you going to realise that this is my life? If I say I’m going to work then I’m going to work.” Something was building in the back of her throat and he waited patiently for it, studying the pull of her brows as she unleashed her frustration unto him. “If I say I want you I mean it. If I kiss you then it’s because I want to.”

There it was.

Simultaneously what he wanted to hear and what he didn’t want to hear.

“Heather…” It was fighting. It was bullying him into giving in. With every ally slaughtered, every laugh at his turmoil, he thought of giving in and with her guidance, he was ready to fall deep into the pit with all the angels exiled from heaven. Her persistence lorded over him - her kingdom raining down on his with ammunition more powerful than he could ever imagine.

“Please.” She shuffled a little closer - testing his boundaries. “James…please.”

Anger transformed into desperation, her eyes pleading and her mouth begging with every word that fell from it.

“Heather. No.”

Someone was testing him. Some fucker wouldn’t leave him alone.

“Why not?”

Her insistence was irritating him.

“It’s wrong.”

She scoffed, brushing hair from her face as she took two harsh breaths and swallowed down her frustration.

“Is it wrong if I want it?”

That stumped him and he gave no reply.

That was the only factor in the whole situation that swayed him just a little. She wanted it. She had clearly expressed that fact hours ago when she’d kissed him so hard he could still feel the bruises she’d left behind and she was expressing it now. She was telling him in the only way she knew how that it would be selfish if he were not to pursue her.

He supposed she was right - he was making decisions for her. And that contradicted everything he wished for her. He didn’t want to overpower her and make her feel small. He wanted to liberate her and show her that there was more to life than Downey - there was more to life than grief and self-pity.

She shuffled just a little closer, standing between his open legs and, as his eyes flicked down her body, he saw that her hands shook. It was only a slight tremor but it was enough for him to notice and when he looked back at her, he made sure that his eyes portrayed his wishes. His blue irises and widened pupils both silently conveyed what he wanted to say. He couldn’t speak honestly so he would let every urge in his body tell her what he truly wanted.

There was hope that she’d picked up on his desires as her calves hit the edge of the couch. If she dared go any further, she’d tumble into his open arms and it would all come falling down like blossoms drifting towards the ground and painting the mud pink.

“Please..” Heather said as she took the leap - her left knee perching on the space of the couch between his legs. “I know what I want.”

The daring she showed as her other knee settled beside his right leg, the space where her left knee was, too full to accommodate its twin. The determination on her face as she placed a hand on his chest and took a deep breath.

“Heather…” It’s all he can say: a weak, uncharacteristic whisper of her name that comes out more pleading than scolding.

In the moment, he doesn’t want to stop her.

“If you say you don’t want me, I’ll stop asking,” she says as her other hand rests on his shoulder and she settles herself over his right thigh.

He doesn’t think she understands the implications of the position she’s placed herself in - her hands shaking against his skin as her chest heaves. And the ultimatum stays in a raincloud between them, hanging over their bodies and waiting patiently for permission to precipitate.

James feels the shift in his body as he doesn’t speak, feels the weight of hiding for so long brushing from his shoulders as he reaches out and cups her cheek in his hand.

“This…” he swallows as he trails off, thumb running over her cheekbone and stroking away the pressure of concealment. “This has nothing to do with whether I want you or not.”

She didn’t seem to be listening as her knee unintentionally nudged his crotch and didn’t seem to notice as his whole body tensed. He could feel her warmth, the heat of her body rolling off her in waves and stifling him into submission.

His previous statement about her not listening was corrected as she replied to him.

“But you do?”

The movements of his thumb stopped, his eyes scanning her face to see if there was any disgust or revulsion at his blatant depravity but all he saw was desire. As expected, there was nothing that told him she was opposed to the situation - her body twitched towards his instead of away, her eyes begging him to touch her more.

He wouldn’t deny her. And with a roll of his stomach in anxiousness, he began to trail his hand down the length of her body. His palm, large and warm atop her skin, travelled from her collarbone to her shoulder - shoulder to her ribcage until it settled against the dip of her waist. Her breaths were heavy, chest heaving as she leaned into the feeling and gripped tightly onto his shoulder. Her grasp only grew harsher as he slipped his hand under her shirt and burnt himself into her skin.

The cogs turned in her mind, eyes flicking between his eyes and his lips as she leaned in a little closer.

The desire to taste her again, the ideas occurring in his mind with her legs bracketing his thigh overpowered everything he believed in. Everything he had lived for. Every moral he had picked up in his old age was thrown clean out the window.

It lay on the floor in a pathetic heap as she desperately pressed her lips to his and dug her nails into his shoulders. It blew far away in the wind when he wrapped both arms around her middle and tugged her to him - their chests pressed together.

The kiss was sweet like honey and cinnamon, her lips laced with additives to keep him coming back for more. Her skin was like velvet as he ran his hands up her spine - her shirt keeping his hands trapped in their position on her back. She was like nicotine in his veins, his body relaxing in relief as his mouth moved against hers with equal desperation and held her close to him.

It was like sitting by the fire after coming from the rain - relieved that there was finally warmth. After a month of driving her up and down the city, watching her every move, spending all his time formulating plans to get her out of that goddamn house and this was the only plan that had seemed to work so far. Her: in his arms where he could protect her.

A whine came from her throat as he pulled away from her needy lips and pressed his own to her neck, trailing kisses across her jaw and down to the juncture of her neck. It was there that he began to suck harshly onto her skin, her nails scratching at his clothed shoulders as he nipped and bit. His teeth dragged over the mark he made as he moved back to reclaim her mouth.

She pawed at his chest, unsure of where to put her hands as he gripped onto her hip and seated her on his thigh.

Something insignificant flew around his brain like a mayfly, telling him he should stop. But it was so faint that he didn’t hear its sense over the ringing in his ears. He didn’t feel anything except her fumbling mouth and her scratching little hands branding him. Nothing was more important to him than her and it dawned on him as her hips moved against his leg, that he had not felt this alive for so long.

The divorce had left him lonely; all he had been was a sad old man walking the Oregon trail in a pathetic attempt to get to the West. It was only at that moment that he realised he had already made it to his destination - that she had been waiting for him with food and water to nurse him back to health after the exertion of his long journey.

Her moans brought him back to life, her skin setting him alight like the burning bush and the movement of her hips as she dragged herself across his thigh sent him up to the highest heaven. They sang hallelujah as she pulled away from him, succumbing to the sensation igniting in her belly.

“N-need to take them off,” she stuttered out as she fumbled one-handedly with her button, desperate to rip away the denim barrier.

“Okay, Angel.” His voice was thick as he swatted her hands away, his fingers working at the button on his favourite shorts and tugging down the zip.

Instantly, she stood up, shimmying them over her hips until they fell to the floor with a faint thump.

He couldn’t help the groan as she fell back onto his lap and threaded her hands through his hands - her lips back on his. He could hardly breathe and could hardly care. Not when his mouth tasted of her, not when she resumed the desperate little jerks of her hips and whimpered into their kiss.

When the sensations became too overwhelming for her to continue kissing him, she pulled away, eyes fluttering shut as she moved on top of him. He could feel the heat of her centre on his thigh and as he looked down, could see the damp patch decorating her panties. It made his cock twitch in his pants, the ache he had been trying to ignore making him sensitive to every sound and every touch.

“James…” she breathed out and it was evident on her face that she was holding back. To spur her on, he dug his hands into her hips and pressed her harder into his leg

“It’s okay,” he assured her as she gasped. “I’ve got you…let it out.”

She sped up, her face flushed and lips parted as he moved her more insistently.

She was a goddamn sight. More gorgeous than the valleys in the morning, when the sun rose over the horizon and the dew glistened in the light.

Slowly and deliberately, their gazes lock, eyes meeting as a noise sobs out of her mouth and her muscles tighten underneath his touch.

“James…” she says again, her voice an octave higher and harmonising with his own as he whispers her name right back to her.

“Heather.”

That truly gets her going, the eye contact breaking as she flutters her eyes shut and leans forward to press her face into his neck.

He continues to guide her over his thigh and when he looks down, he sees the wetness seeping into his jeans, feels the wet warmth of her and a groan catches in his throat at the sight. It comes out in a strangled gurgle, his hand dragging upwards from her hip to her hair and keeping her huddled into his neck. His other hand trails up the notches of her spine and lets her finish herself off, letting her use her pent-up desire to fuel her stamina.

“That’s it, Angel,” he whispers into her ear, holding her close as her movements stutter and a cry escapes her throat.

“James,” she says almost warningly, clutching to him with an almost overwhelming intensity.

“I know,” he says. “It’s okay, I know…you can do it.”

The words seem to have her teetering, her hips speeding up in search of that sweet relief. He wants it for her, he wants her to feel it spread from her stomach and throughout her body.

“You can do it, Angel.” He uses his words to help her on the way - coaxing her over the edge.

“J-James,” she stutters, losing it as she hovers her foot over the edge of the cliff, her heartbeat in her ears as the adrenaline conquers her body.

There’s a single moment of hesitation as she grows silent, and then the wind knocks her off-kilter and she goes straight over the edge - the sounds from her throat only heard in his wildest dreams.

“There you go,” he praises as she shakes in his arms, her hips slowing to a slight rock as she rides herself through the feeling. “Thats it.”

There's a long pause as she comes back to herself, her breathing heavy as she stills in his arms, muscles corded tight, and then, all of sudden, she slumps against him with a sigh. Her head rests on his shoulder, lolling to the side and her lips brush against his neck.

Slowly and carefully he looks down at her, brushing her hair out of her face so he can see her clearly. There’s a faint smile on her face, her eyes still shut as she lets him hold her. A stray tear falls from her eye, mingling with the crusted streaks of old tears shed previously and, steadily, the brown of her eyes meets his blue and he doesn’t think there’s any going back from this point.

“You okay?” He has to ask, the thought that maybe she’d changed her mind about everything a very prominent one.

With a lazy smile, she nods her head, scanning his face once before turning her head away and nuzzling into his neck again.

She feels so right in his arms, slotting into him perfectly and she murmurs a simple “thank you” into his neck and his stomach sinks.

The excitement of the situation dies down in his chest and the weight of her is firm on top of him, keeping him in the moment as his head clears.

He shouldn’t have let that happen.

That was a mistake bigger than Eve’s when she ate the fruit. He’d taken from her tree and God was ready to show his wrath.

“Heather,” he alerts her.

She gives a singular “yeah” in reply, still tucked into him and not looking like she was ready to let go.

He didn’t want to be so hot and cold with her. He didn’t want to have her constantly guessing what his next move was going to be but it was such an impossible situation that he had no choice but to be those things. How many times he had said to himself that it was wrong - that he would never do anything like that with her. The amount of times he had told her those things too. And the same words were on his lips again and goddamn she wasn’t going to like it. She wasn’t going to like it at all. But what choice did he have?

He had let go of his morals because of his lust; she had not even touched him where the pressure was worse and he had still succumbed to passion’s inability to allow clear thoughts to enter his head. Now, she had died down, he had died down, their flame diminishing into smoke and burnt wick and he had to…he had to.

“This shouldn’t have happened.”

He felt her whole body tense and heard her sharp intake of breath as she stayed glued to him.

“I’m sorry, kid,” he continued, arms falling to his sides as if to put distance between them. She twitched at the nickname and he didn’t want to make her angry but wasn’t this the best way? “It’s just not right.”

Slowly but surely, she peels away from him, and the look on her face is enough to have him wanting to pull her right back down. But, his will wins. His principles overpower his immorality.

Confusion crosses her features and then quickly transforms into disgust, shooting daggers at him that go right through his heart and out the other side.

“What?” Her voice is deadly quiet - dangerously close to venomous.

“Heather-”

“No.” She shakes her head, looking away from him and practically jumps out of his lap as she desperately looks around for her shorts. Upon finding them, she snatches them, almost tripping as she steps into them and pulls them up to her hips.

“Heather,” he tries to reason, standing up with her and gazing at her frantic form.

“I’m gonna go.” Her chest heaves as she zips up her shorts and fumbles with the button - struggling to slip the metal into the slit.

“Heather,” he says more insistently, begging her to stay put so he can explain.

“I have to go.” Her voice cracks as she speaks and a part of him cracks at the same time.

This was a mess he couldn’t fix.

He couldn’t stop her as she stumbled up the stairs - the calls of her name not enough to cease her determination. He couldn’t stop her as she slipped her shoes on and hastily did up the laces. And he couldn’t stop her when she asked him to open the door and let her out.

She would be going back to that house. With Robert Palmer and all his little gargoyles watching her as she cried.

It had been beautiful for a moment, then it grew into something ugly - some bestial creature that loomed over the two of them and forced them apart with claws in their chests.

It was completely dark by the time she left his house and the hour was inhumanely early. The deep night left a silence that ran rampant throughout the house - a silence that killed him as soon as he heard it. He had asked her if she needed a ride and had said in the softest voice he could that she shouldn’t be walking around at night alone.

But she’d kicked and shoved and demanded that she go by herself.

So, he watched her walk away knowing that everything they had was gone. It swirled down a drain gutter and landed somewhere in the sewers.

He did not sleep that night in fear of her safety. He did not think of anything except her rocking against him, the taste of her that only became stronger with a second kiss and the look on her face when he denied her again and again and again.

⋆ ★

A/N: this chapter has been the bane of my existence for a good couple of weeks. it's a long one and one i'm not sure if i'm very happy with...either way if you like it, what i think doesn't really matter so i hope you enjoyed it! it was such a difficult chapter to write, especially since its from james' perspective and its so goddamn long but i'm hoping it met expectations.

next chapter is gonna be wild...

love ya.

alana

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wa1ks · 1 year ago

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Hey Waiks! I saw your new and you seem so sweet oml😭

I was wonderin if you would do this request as your too a James gurlie like meee

So my vision is your James girl best friend and have been for a long long time. Little do you know, James has a size kink and has a PHAT crush on you. He adores the fact your only 5’1 and curvy (in total just his type from head to toe) and you’re on tour with him.

He just finished a concert and was pissed off for some random reason so you innocently ask him what’s wrong. Your drinking a beer with him in your hotel room but he soon enough gets impatient and fucks your brains out.

LIKE UGH OMG I CANT🙇‍♀️

Many many thanks, Vee <3xx

CW: Smut, P in V, alcohol, size kink

WC: 1.6k

Thank you sm omg you're so sweet <33

AHHH I LOVE THIS IDEA!! I can imagine any era james for this but blackalbum! james is whats popping up in my brain for that (if its not good im sorry 😭)

Being best friends with James Hetfield is quite a roller coaster, but I love him, and if going on tour with him makes him happy, then I'll do it without a second thought.

I'm sitting on the side of the stage waiting for the guys to finish their set so I can congratulate them for another amazing show, but something seems off about James. I mean, he always performs to the best of his abilities, but tonight he just seems more...angry?

The guys finally finish the set and thank the crowd for the amazing night. As James walks up to me, I can feel his anger radiating off of him. What best friend would I be if I didn't check to see whats wrong?

"Hey boys, that was an amazing show you put on tonight, but I'm going to take James back to the hotel for the night."

Lars begins to say, "Ooh, Hetfield, you're going to get some pus." In a pissed-off tone, James cuts him off, "Shut it, Ulrich."

We make it to the car, and James is in the drivers seat. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, I speak up.

"James, you know you can come to me for anything, right?"

James turns to me with a fake smile planted on his face and says, "Dude, I love you to bits, but I don't think you want to hear about my girl's problems."

As he said it, all the air in my lungs seemed to vanish, and a feeling of dread washed over me. Don't let your feelings show; this is James' moment, and I need to worry about him.

"Girl problems, eh? Well, I'm a girl, so maybe I could help you figure everything out for you."Don't let the jealousy show, please, not now; James needs me.

"It's fine; she probably doesn't like me back anyway," James whispers.

"James, you are so blind; how could someone not like you? but if you want to drop it, we can."

Just like that, there's a gleam in his eyes again as he replies, "Thank you, and when we get back to the hotel, we are so going to drink since you rudely stole me away from the guys."

We got back to the hotel and decided to bunker up in my room for the night since it was more convenient. I tell James that I'm just going to get changed into some comfy clothes and that I'll be right out. I walk back into the living room in some shorts and one of James' shirts and see James' gaze linger over my exposed thighs. Huh, weird.

I grab us both some beers and settle into the couch, but James is still looking at my thighs, so I pull my legs up to my chest and sit like that.

"James, are you sure you don't want to talk about anything? You seem really off today."

"Yeah, I'm fine. I think I didn't get enough sleep last night, though." James says he's still looking at me like I'm a goddess or something.

I shuffle around a bit on the couch and hear James' breath hitch. My thoughts are now running wild with how he's looking at me. Calm down; he's probably just lost in thought.

We talk for about 10 minutes before I notice there's something else in his eyes. I can't quite decipher it yet. We're just aimlessly talking at this point when James leans in and kisses me like his life depends on it. He pulls away and gets up, grabbing his things in a rush and mumbling things like "why did I do that? I'm such an idiot" and "I just ruined the best thing that ever happened to me." I finally manage to catch on to what he's doing and grab his arm, trying to get him to look at me.

"James, calm down; I'm not going anywhere. I promise" He looks back at me and says, "But I just kissed you."

I look at him like he has three heads, and suddenly I get what's up with him tonight.

"James, it was ok—more than ok, actually. I enjoyed it."

He turns around, and suddenly he's lunging at me, and when he finally gets to me, our lips smash together in a mess of desire and admiration. Years of longing and lust all spilled out in a matter of moments.

We pull away for air, and he says, "You don't know how long I've been waiting to do that."

He adds, "I've been in love with you for years, you idiot." With a huge smile on my face, I reply, "It seems like we're both idiots, because I've been in love with you for years too."

James then pushes me onto my back on the couch and gets on top of me, encompassing me with his arms stationed right above my shoulders and his long hair blocking us out from the outside world. And my thoughts are filled with "james, james, james, james."

He gives me a quick peck before moving down my neck, licking and sucking at it like a madman, before looking back up at me and asking me if he can take my shirt off. I nod at him, but he stops. "I'm going to have to hear you, hon."

I whine as my cheeks burn from how much I'm blushing, and I plead, "Jamie, please, I need you. Stop teasing me."

"That's what I wanted to hear."

He continues where he left off, but he's doing it slower. I'm getting so worked up, but he can't tease me without consequences, so I brush my foot against his hardening cock, and he stills his movements. And straight-up growls

He pulls us off the couch, and when I try and ask him what he's doing, he pushes me against the wall.

"Aww, look at you—so little and fragile in my hands. I could easily pound into you right here; do you want that doll?" James speaks through his teeth.

I try to speak, but the only thing that escapes my mouth is a moan.

"Does my bunny like me crowding her like this, huh? Don't worry, I'll take good care of you."

James has me pinned to the wall, and his knee is between my thighs, and the friction is so delicious.

"James, can you please hurry up and fuck me?" I whine out.

"Don't worry, hon, we'll get to that later, but right now I'm enjoying watching you get yourself off my thigh," he laughs.

I don't want to sound like a brat, but I need him, and I need him now.

I feel my release building up, and when I'm about to finish, James pulls his leg away with a wicked smile, and I almost cry.

"Don't cry, sweetheart; you'll get your release soon. Can you pull your shorts and panties down for me now, please?" I do as he says, and he praises me for it.

"Are you ready for me, sweetheart?" He knows I am; he just wants to draw this out for as long as he can.

"Mhm, been ready for you, Jamie."

James pulls his pants down and thrusts into me, filling me to the hilt. After I've adjusted to his size, he starts slowly dragging out his thrusts. I squeal because he feels so good. "Feel so full, Jamie, so good. Keep going, please, please."

He seemed to enjoy that, and his pace quickened, pounding into me at a brutal pace. Through gritted teeth, he manages to say, "This pussy feels so tight and warm, just for me, yeah?"

"Just for you, Jamie, all yours; I'm all yours."

He adjusts his arms under my ass so he can get a better hold on me, and while doing that, he gives my ass a smack.

I let out a moan. "Right there, Jamie, keep going; feel so full." "M'girl, you're gripping me so hard; if you keep it up, I'm not going to last."

With one particularly hard thrust, we both let out moans that are borderline pornographic. His thrusts are getting sloppy; he must be close.

"Jamie, I'm going to cum. Can I cum please? I've been a good girl for you. Please let me cum."

"Hold on a little bit longer, hon. Wanna cum together?" "Where do you want it?"

My mind is shouting at me at this point. "Inside, please Jamie, I just want to feel you."

James then says, "Now, let go, hon. C'mon, cum sweets." With a final thrust, we both finish. I can feel his warm cum filling me up to the brink. When he pulls out and some of his seed spills out, he uses his thumb to push it back in and then gets me to suck it clean.

"Wow, that was something," I say out of breath.

James doesn't say a word; he simply lifts me up bridal style, puts me down gently onto the bed, and walks out. For a second, my heart cracks, and I think, "He just used me," but he comes back with a warm washcloth and cleans up the mess between my thighs. After he's done with that, he puts some boxers on me and lays beside me.

"Feelin' ok, sweetheart?" James says softly "Better than ok, Jamie, thank you." "Was I too rough? Did I hurt you?" "Jamie, stop worrying. I feel amazing; you're amazing." "I meant it; you know what I said earlier. I do love you." And in that moment, he seemed so vulnerable, so I hugged him. "I love you too, Jamie. I love you so much it hurts."

"D'ya wanna be my girlfriend?" He says it shyly. "You just fucked my brains out and gave me the best orgasm of my life, and you're getting shy about asking me out? but of course I'll be your girlfriend, you big idiot."

With a huge smile on both our faces, we slowly drift off to sleep, embraced in each other's arms.

#james hetfield #papa het #metallica #james hetfield smut #metallica smut #asks and replies #james hetfield x reader #james hetfield fluff

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