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watersapple · 1 month ago

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Summary: In which, after a fight between your brother and his girlfriend, you end up stuck with Jackie Taylor. Drunk and saying things you were never supposed to hear again.

Warnings: Sexual content, alcohol consumption, cheating(?), Jeff.

The party had started out fine. Better than fine, honestly. Your parents were out for the weekend, and Jeff had promised to keep it “low-key.” Which, in Jeff-speak, apparently meant inviting half the damn school and letting the music shake the walls like it was a frat house.

You lingered near the stairs, sipping from your cup, watching people filter in and out of the kitchen and living room. You weren't one to host these kinds of things, but you liked control. And right now, you were watching it slip.

Especially when you saw Jackie Taylor push open the front door in that perfect black dress that made her look both angelic and untouchable, the way she always did, and storm into the house with that I’m-about-to-make-this-everyone’s-problem look in her eyes.

Your stomach dropped before you even heard Jeff’s voice.

“Seriously, Jackie?” Jeff called after her, stumbling in behind her. “You show up now?”

You didn’t mean to eavesdrop. But neither of them were exactly being subtle.

Jackie spun on her heel just as she reached the middle of the living room, right in front of everyone.

“I told you I needed time!” she snapped, voice louder than the music. “But you couldn’t even give me one weekend, could you?”

Jeff scoffed. “I wanted to talk—”

“You wanted to control,” she interrupted. “Just admit it! You hate when you’re not the one calling the shots.”

You froze. A few people were watching now. Others pretended not to, but the drama was thick in the air.

Jeff stepped closer, teeth clenched. “You’re drunk already.”

Jackie smiled wide, that venomous, glittering kind of smile. “And you’re predictable. Go find another girl to be your sex toy, because it won’t be me.” The last part was barely a whisper. But you caught every word.

You saw the flare in your brother’s jaw before he turned and stormed out, slamming the front door behind him.

Jackie stood there a second longer. Swaying slightly, before heading into the kitchen, like nothing had happened.

You set your drink down, feeling the need to find Natalie and maybe share a cigarette or two. This or something else.

Natalie was leaning against the backyard fence like she belonged there. Boots kicked out, cigarette dangling from her fingers, sharp profile outlined by the porch light glow. She looked like trouble and comfort all at once.

You stepped out, the screen door creaking behind you. The bass from inside pulsed through the walls, but out here, it felt quieter. Easier to breathe.

“She’s here,” you said.

Natalie didn’t look at you. “Jackie?”

You nodded.

“She’s already causing drama?”

You exhaled slowly. “Started the moment she walked in.”

Natalie held out the cigarette wordlessly, and you took it. The smoke hit the back of your throat, hot and acrid. Comforting, in its own way.

“She got into it with Jeff,” you said. “In front of everyone. Told him off. Loud.”

Natalie snorted. “Good for her.”

You paused, shifting your weight. “I’m kinda… worried, though.”

That made Natalie glance at you.

“She was wasted when she showed up. Said some weird shit. I think she’s spiraling.” You passed the cigarette back. “And I know I shouldn’t care, but…”

“She’s still Jackie,” Nat finished. “You can’t help it.”

You sighed. “Yeah.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Natalie said, casually, “You’ve always had a soft spot for messy girls.”

You laughed under your breath. “Guess that’s why I keep hanging out with you.”

Natalie grinned, blew a ribbon of smoke to the side. “Flattery’ll get you nowhere, babe.”

You looked over at her, the messy braid, chipped black polish, the eyeliner smudged just so, like she woke up cool.

“Nat,” you said, voice quieter now. “You know you’re kind of amazing, right?”

Natalie raised an eyebrow. “That sounds like something you only say when you’re about to ask me to help hide a body.”

You smirked, but your voice was honest. “No, I mean it. You’re, like… ridiculously hot and calm and unbothered and you always make shit feel less terrible. I love you.”

Natalie blinked at you.

You looked away quickly. “Sorry. I’m drunk.”

“You’re not that drunk,” she said, but she was smiling. “You’re just having emotions. Ew.”

You laughed once, then ran a hand through your hair. “It’s just… everything feels off tonight.”

Natalie tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

Before you could answer, the back door opened again.

Shauna stepped out. Alone.

She didn’t see you two right away, just adjusted her skirt, ran a hand through her hair, pulled her hand mirror out with a practiced little glance behind her, like she was making sure no one was watching.

But you were.

And then you saw Jeff.

He followed a few seconds later, not out the same door, but around the side of the house. Trying to look casual, like he’d just wandered out for air.

He didn’t see Shauna. He didn’t need to.

Your chest went tight.

Natalie turned to say something, probably a joke, but stopped when she saw your face.

“Y/N?”

You didn’t answer.

You just watched Shauna disappear down the steps, her lipstick slightly smudged. Jeff, meanwhile, lit a cigarette with shaking hands, looking every bit like a man trying not to crack.

Natalie followed your gaze. Then she saw it too.

“…Oh,” she said quietly.

You swallowed hard. “They’ve been sneaking around.”

Natalie didn’t ask how you knew.

She just looked at you and said, “You gonna tell Jackie?”

You stared down at the cigarette in your hand. “I don’t know,” you whispered. “probably not tonight.”

Natalie didn’t say anything else. She just stood beside you

You had a bad feeling.

Walking back inside, you found Jackie pinned in a corner of the kitchen, half-draped over the counter with some guy leaning far too close, brushing hair from her face like he owned her.

Jackie looked... out of it. Eyes unfocused. Too loose in the limbs.

You crossed the kitchen like a storm.

“Yeah, no.” you snapped, shoving the guy's shoulder. “Get out.”

“She didn’t say anything,” he slurred.

“She doesn’t need to.” Your voice turned razor-sharp. “I’ll break your fingers one by one, if I need to.”

The guy scoffed but backed off, muttering “psycho bitch” under his breath as he slithered away.

Jackie blinked slowly, tried to sit up straight, and failed. “Well, if it isn’t Saint Y/N,” she said with a laugh, voice thick with tequila and pride wounds. “Saving the damsel. How heroic.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” You said coldly. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want to have sex with Michael fucking Sinclair.”

Jackie tilted her head, eyes glassy. “Like you know shit about me.” She spit back, venomously.

You scoffed.

Jackie slid off the counter and stumbled forward. “Jeff was right. You’re so obsessed with being the better one—”

“Shut up. Say his name again,” You warned, stepping closer, “and I swear to God, I’ll drag you upstairs and murder you myself. We will be all over the news. Tempting, huh?”

Jackie blinked slowly. “Jeff. Jeff. Jeff.”

You sighed, grabbed her wrist, and yanked her toward the stairs. Then, threw her over your shoulder despite her protests. This attracted some looks and whispers, but you didn’t care at this point.

Jackie was swearing under her breath the whole way up. “You can’t just force people— god, you’re such a control freak— this is so typical of you—”

You opened your bedroom door, shoved her inside, and slammed it shut. The click of the lock echoed like a warning shot.

Jackie stumbled to the bed and collapsed, half-on, half-off, one strap slipping down her shoulder.

You crossed your arms, trying to ignore the heat crawling up your spine.

“You shouldn’t have came,” you said flatly.

Jackie looked up at her. “Why? So you and Jeff could talk shit about me in peace?”

“We don’t talk about you,” You lied.

“Right.” Jackie pushed herself up, dark eyes locking on yours. “You just hate me.”

You smirked. “Always have. You don’t make it that hard.”

Jackie stood, wobbly but determined, walking toward her until there was barely a breath of space between you.

“Well guess what?” Jackie whispered, breath warm and spiked with vodka. “I hate you more.”

Your pulse spiked.

Jackie was still standing, a little crooked, breathing like she'd just run a sprint instead of climbed one flight of stairs. Her arms were crossed like she was trying to hold herself together. Or maybe like she was still ready to fight.

You, on the other hand, were trying not to roll your eyes so hard you gave yourself a migraine.

Jackie glared at you from the center of the room. “So what now? You lock me up here while you and Jeff gossip about what a disaster I am?”

You sighed dramatically, heading to your desk to grab the water bottle you kept there.

“Yeah,” You said dryly, twisting the cap off, “we were just waiting for you to leave so I could finally start my ‘Ten Reasons I Hate Miss Taylor’ list.”

You tossed the bottle onto the bed next to Jackie, who didn’t even flinch. Just stood there, arms still folded, jaw clenched.

You arched a brow. “Number one: you’re stubborn as hell. Number two: you refuse to shut up even when you’re clearly wasted.”

Jackie’s lip twitched.

“Three,” you added, “you always assume everyone’s watching you. Newsflash, princess — sometimes we’ve got better things to do.”

Jackie stared at you a second longer before she finally wobbled back and let herself drop onto the mattress with a heavy sigh.

You crossed your arms. “For Christ’s sake. Just lay down for a bit, alright? Scream into a pillow. Sleep it off. Fight Jeff later.”

“I’m not sleeping in your bed,” Jackie mumbled, closing her eyes.

“Well, you’re not sleeping in the hallway. Or on the roof. So either deal with it or get cozy with the tub. Or, walk your wasted ass home.”

Jackie didn’t respond. Just curled one arm under her head and let the other dangle off the bed, her fingers brushing the hardwood floor.

You stood there for a moment longer, unsure whether to stay or bolt.

“Why’d you help me?” Jackie muttered suddenly, voice softer than before. “Downstairs. With that guy.”

You paused, your back still to the bed. “Because he is a creep. And I’m not about to let some jackass paw at a drunk girl at my house.”

“But I’m not just some girl,” Jackie said. “I’m me.”

You turned to look at her. Jackie's eyes were half-lidded now, her expression unreadable.

“Exactly,” you said. “And as much as I’d love to watch you fall into a fountain at prom, I’m not letting someone treat you like that.”

Jackie was quiet for a beat.

Then: “You’re not as a bitch as you pretend to be.”

Y/N snorted. “And you’re not as dumb as Jeff thinks.”

That earned her a smirk. Barely-there, fleeting, before Jackie’s eyes fluttered shut again.

You lingered near the door, fingers grazing the lock, heart still hammering in your chest.

This wasn’t supposed to be the night she and Jackie Taylor ended up alone together.

And it definitely wasn’t supposed to be the night she felt something twist in her chest when Jackie whispered, “You’re still an asshole.”

You rolled her eyes. “Go to sleep, Taylor.”

“Make me.” She said, but went quiet right after.

Jackie had gone quiet for a while, curled sideways on your bed, shoes kicked off but dress still rumpled, mascara streaked slightly beneath one eye like war paint. You thought maybe she’d passed out. She almost hoped she had.

But then Jackie spoke, voice hoarse and brittle.

“You know what’s funny?” she said without opening her eyes. “He only ever wants me when I’m slipping away.”

You turned from where you’d been sitting on the edge of the desk. “Jeff?”

Jackie laughed bitterly. “Who else? Every time we break up, he shows up like it’s a challenge. Like I’m some project he forgot to finish.”

She blinked up at the ceiling, swallowing hard. “He doesn’t care what I think. Doesn’t ask. Just assumes I’ll come running the second he flashes that ‘Sadecki smirk.’ He doesn’t even like me. He just wants to fuck me. Most of our breaks are because of this.”

You stiffened but said nothing.

Jackie scoffed and scrubbed at her face. “He thinks just because I’m pretty and put together I don’t notice. Like I’m too stupid to get it.”

There was a pause.

Then Jackie whispered, almost to herself, “I hate that I let him.”

You moved before you even realized it. You knelt by the bed, heart beating a little too fast, and reached up, hesitated, then gently brushed a tear from under Jackie’s eye with her thumb.

Jackie flinched a little, surprised. Her eyes opened, meeting yours.

“Out of character for you,” she said, voice wobbling between sarcasm and vulnerability. “You being gentle.”

You almost smiled. “I’m not a monster, you know?”

Jackie sniffled, eyes tracking your movements — first your hand, then your face, then… your mouth.

The silence stretched.

Jackie stared at your lips like they were saying something she couldn’t quite hear. Then her eyes flicked back up to yours, pupils blown wide.

“I remember when we used to play house,” she said suddenly, almost dreamily.

You blinked. “What?”

Jackie didn’t move. Just whispered: “I was the mom. You were the dad. Because Jeff wouldn’t play, he said it was a girls’ game.”

Your breath caught.

Jackie’s voice lowered, almost a pant now, shaky and strange. “You’d come home from work. I’d be folding napkins or cooking invisible pasta. And then… we’d give a peck on the lips.”

You didn’t move, but you couldn’t look away.

Jackie inched forward. Barely noticeable. Just enough.

“You always complained,” Jackie murmured, eyes half-lidded. “Said it was gross. But you still did it. Every time.”

Your throat tightened. The air between you felt like static. Cheeks reddened in an instant.

“And then, years later…” Jackie continued, gaze falling back to her mouth. “Those stupid family dinners. Your mom and my mom, always pretending we all got along. You and me, stuck in your room. On the floor. On the bed. Sometimes we had to share the same pillow.”

Her breath hitched. “Sometimes we stayed over.”

You whispered, “Jackie—”

“I don’t even remember when it started,” Jackie cut in. Her voice had gone small. Honest. “I just remember we said it was practice. Just in case. Because boys would expect us to know.”

She leaned closer.

“And we had to know… right?”

Your breath shuddered in your chest. Jackie’s face was barely a few inches away now. You could feel the heat of her. The scent of tequila and vanilla perfume and the smallest trace of salt on her cheeks.

Jackie tilted her head, so close their noses nearly brushed.

“You always said it didn’t mean anything,” she whispered. “That it didn’t count if we weren’t really feeling it.”

Another breath. Another half-inch.

“But it always felt like something.”

You didn’t know whether to move forward or pull away.

Your voice came out low. Cautious. “Are you drunk, Jackie?”

Jackie’s lips curled slightly. “Of course I’m drunk.”

Then softer, “But I’m not lying.”

You didn’t move. Jackie was too close now. Too much perfume, too much warmth, too much truth in her eyes.

“You’re very drunk,” You said softly. A warning. Maybe even a plea.

Jackie smiled, not smug this time, but sad. Like she already knew.

“I am,” she admitted, flopping back against the pillows again with a soft thud, hair spilling out like a halo. Her eyes slid to the ceiling, voice drifting with it. “God, I’m so drunk.”

You exhaled slowly, preparing to stand, to pull away before you lost control, but then Jackie spoke again.

“Do you remember when Jeff and I broke up the first time?”

You froze.

Jackie wasn’t looking at you now. Just staring up, eyes wet and glossy, like she was watching some long-forgotten movie play across the ceiling.

“I was devastated,” she said. “Thought it was the end of the world. Shauna had that stupid English test she was cramming for, so I didn’t want to bother her. So I came to you instead.”

You swallowed hard.

“I was so sad,” Jackie continued, voice soft and lilting. “And so drunk. God, I barely even knocked. Just walked into your room and sat on your bed like I belonged there.”

You said nothing. You remembered. Every frame of it. Too clearly.

“It was stupid,” Jackie whispered. “But I remember. The kiss. Not just one. The whole thing. I remember the makeout. The way your hand pulled my hair. The hickey I left on your neck.”

You turned away, eyes flicking toward the door. You were sure she didn’t remember any of that.

Jackie chuckled, low and fond. “You tried so hard to cover it up. I used to watch you putting concealer over it in the locker room after practice. That little compact mirror you always carried.”

Her voice dropped again. “I saw you tell Nat.”

You tensed. “I—“ You started, but she continued, cutting you off.

“But I always pretended I didn’t,” Jackie murmured. “Because it was easier.”

The room was too still now. Just the thud of bass from downstairs and the sound of Jackie’s confessions filling every inch of your skin like a memory come back to haunt you.

“That night too,” Jackie added, lifting her hands and making little quotation marks in the air. “ ‘It’s not cheating or sex if there’s no penetration.’ Can you believe I actually said that?”

She burst into laughter — drunken, broken laughter that turned into hiccups halfway through.

Your stomach twisted. “Jackie…”

Jackie wiped at her mouth and snorted. “God, I was such a mess. But it felt good, didn’t it? For a second. It felt like relief. Like somebody actually saw me.”

You finally looked at her. Jackie’s eyes were red. Her smile was cracking.

“That’s the problem with you,” Jackie whispered. “You always saw too much. And you never said anything.”

You stayed frozen. Your hands were clenched on your knees, jaw tight.

You wanted to tell Jackie to shut up.

You wanted to tell her don’t do this now, when you're vulnerable and sloppy and saying all the things we swore we’d never touch again.

But all that came out was: “You’re saying this because you’re drunk. You won’t even remember it tomorrow.”

Jackie met her gaze. Really met it this time.

“I will,” she said. Quiet. Clear. Certain.

“Will you?” You stood abruptly, as if rising might protect you from the heat building in your chest. From the way Jackie was looking at you. Not drunk and blurry, but sharp and focused and heartbreakingly familiar.

“I’m gonna get you some aspirin,” you muttered, reaching for the doorknob, trying to end it before it went somewhere irreversible.

But Jackie stood too fast.

And stumbled.

Your reflexes kicked in, you reached out instinctively, grabbing Jackie’s arms to steady her. But instead of falling, Jackie took you down with her.

You crashed onto the bed together, Jackie landing on her back. You landed half on top of her, half over the mattress, bracing with your hands.

“Shit—“ You started, propping yourself up, your palms sinking into the mattress on either side of Jackie’s shoulders. “Jackie, I didn’t mean to—“

Then Jackie’s hand gripped the front of your shirt, and before you could finish your sentence, she kissed you.

It stole the rest of the air from your lungs, a sudden, fierce and familiar pressure. Jackie’s mouth against yours with no preamble, no hesitation. The kiss that demanded a response, that refused to be ignored. You froze for a split second. Just long enough to feel the weight of it. Jackie’s fingers digging into the front of your shirt, the soft press of her thigh between your knees, the taste of tequila and lip gloss and every buried memory resurfacing all at once.

Jackie tilted her head, deepening the kiss. Her hand curled behind your neck, pulling you closer, like she’d been starving for this and couldn’t take another second of pretending otherwise.

You didn’t mean to, didn’t plan to, but a low sound escaped your throat as your lips parted under Jackie’s, returning the kiss without second thought.

It was everything and nothing like the ones before.

This time it wasn’t practice.

It wasn’t just in case.

You didn't pull away.

You should have. Every rational cell in your body screamed that. But the second Jackie moaned against your lips, fingers tugging at your shirt like she needed it off immediately, hot and open and wanting, that voice died.

Instead, you kissed her back hard.

You shifted, one hand sliding from the mattress to Jackie's thigh, steadying her, gripping tightly as Jackie arched beneath you.

It was dizzying.

Years of hostility. Every hallway glare. Every pointed insult during family dinners. It was all right here, tangled in teeth, breath and desperate hands.

Jackie's fingers slid up the back of your neck, into your hair, pulling you closer — and when your teeth clashed, Jackie just smiled against your mouth, cocky and gorgeous.

You pulled back just enough to look down at her.

Her lips were swollen. Her pupils blown. Her breath shallow.

And she was smirking. "Still gonna get me aspirin?"

You didn't answer. You growled.

Then you kissed her again, deeper this time, messier. Jackie made a soft, wrecked sound that sent goosebumps rushing through your skin.

Your hands roamed now, fingers slipping under the hem of Jackie's dress, grazing bare skin. Jackie's thighs parted almost automatically, like muscle memory, like instinct.

Jackie grabbed the collar of your shirt and pulled hard, dragging you down until your bodies were flush, chests heaving, hips pressing together like you'd done this before. Like you'd never stopped.

And maybe you hadn't.

Maybe all those years of pretending had just been waiting for this one, stupid night. This one stupid kiss. This one stupid bed.

Jackie's breath hitched as you kissed down her jaw, over the pulse in her throat. Slow, dragging, purposeful. Her fingers dug into your back like claws.

"Fuck," Jackie whispered, head tipping back. "You always knew what you were doing."

You dragged your teeth lightly at ner neck, just beneath ner ear.

"So did you."

Jackie's breath caught. Her hands slipped under your shirt, nails scraping lightly over your stomach. "I used to dream about this."

You pulled back, just enough to meet her eyes.

"Yeah?" Your voice was low, rough, dangerous.

"And how did those dreams end?"

Jackie smirked again, then lifted her hips just enough to grind against yours. Your breath stuttered, holding back a groan.

"Why don't you remind me," Jackie whispered, "just in case I forgot."

Jackie's smirk faded into something darker.

Hungrier.

She shifted beneath you, sliding one leg up, hooking it around your hip to pull you closer. So close there wasn't space for denial anymore.

And you finally gave in. Utterly.

You crushed your mouth to Jackie's again, kissing her with years of repressed want. Years of pretending the past hadn't meant anything. Your hands roamed greedily now, one sliding up Jackie's thigh and under the hem of her dress, the other tangling in her hair, angling her head just right as your mouths moved in frantic rhythm.

Jackie groaned into the kiss, hips lifting, back arching. You dragged your palm higher until your fingers found soft, heated skin. She wasn't wearing much underneath, just thin lace that left little to the imagination.

"Fuck," You whispered against her lips. "You planned this."

Jackie panted. "Maybe I hoped for it."

Your hand pressed between Jackie's thighs, fingers teasing the edge of her underwear, feeling the heat radiating from her core. Jackie bit her lower lip, her hips rocking forward.

"You're soaked," You murmured. “I haven’t even touched you yet.”

Jackie's eyes fluttered closed. “Shut up.” You smirked.

You kissed her again. Slower now, deeper, while your fingers slid beneath the lace, slipping against slick heat. Jackie's whole body tensed, then melted into you with a soft, needy whimper.

You moved your fingers in slow, deliberate strokes, dragging them through her wetness, watching Jackie unravel with every pass. Jackie clutched at your shoulders, her breathing ragged, mouth falling open in a half-moan, half-curse.

"Fuck-don't stop," she whispered.

"I'm not going to." You growled.

You kissed down Jackie's throat, biting lightly at the spot beneath her jaw while your fingers circled her clit, slow and controlled. Jackie was a mess beneath you now. Hair wild, dress pushed up around her hips, thighs trembling.

You slowly dipped two fingers inside, and Jackie's whole body arched. Her nails dug into your back.

"God— Y/N—" she moaned, biting down on her own lip.

You curled your fingers just right, feeling Jackie tighten around you, hips bucking. Your thumb circled gently, purposefully, and Jackie lost all sense of rhythm. Just gasps and soft cries and broken fragments of your name.

"You gonna come for me?" You whispered against her ear, taking the opportunity to bite her earlobe. "Like you used to?"

Jackie didn't answer, couldn’t.

Her body locked, shuddered, then broke around your fingers with a long, breathy moan. You watched her fall apart. Eyes squeezed shut, chest heaving, lips parted in stunned silence as the orgasm rolled through her.

You didn't stop moving your fingers until Jackie finally whimpered, twitching beneath you.

When you pulled out, Jackie was limp and boneless on the bed, blinking slowly like she was waking up from a dream.

But her eyes found yours. Still dark. Still wanting.

"You," Jackie said, voice wrecked and hoarse, "are not leaving me like this."

You grinned, taking your fingers to your mouth and sucking them clean. "I wasn't planning on it."

Jackie sat up suddenly, grabbed the hem of your shirt, and yanked it off over your head. Then she flipped you, straddling your hips, her dress still hitched high, thighs still glistening.

"Your turn," Jackie said, smirking, breath ghosting over your lips.

And when she kissed you again, it was slower. Hotter.

Jackie's thighs straddled you with practiced ease like she'd done it in dreams a thousand times. Like her body already knew exactly where to go.

Her fingers dragged down your bare stomach, nails just sharp enough to raise goosebumps and leave red marks. You hissed through your teeth, hands gripping Jackie's hips, fingers digging into soft skin where her dress had bunched up.

"You've been holding out on me," Jackie whispered, leaning down until her lips grazed your jaw, leaving wet kisses. "All these years..."

She kissed a line from your jaw to your collarbone, slow and hot and purposeful. Lips closing on the soft flesh and sucking, leaving bruises.

Your breath hitched. "You started it."

Jackie smirked against your skin. "And I’m gonna finish it.”

She shifted her hips down, grinding into you in a slow, devastating roll. Both of you gasped. Jackie caught your bottom lip between her teeth and tugged, then released it with a breathy laugh.

"You always act so in control," she whispered. "But I remember how you sounded when you begged."

Your hands slid up her back, nails dragging lightly. “Make me.”

Jackie sat up just enough to push your bra out of the way, exposing flushed skin and hardening peaks. Her hands weren't shy. They cupped, fingers flicking, kneading, learning you all over again like she had the right.

You moaned softly, arching into her touch. "Fuck, Jackie..."

Jackie bent down and took one nipple into her mouth, sucking gently, her tongue flicking. Her hand rolled over the other, squeezing in rhythm, until you were writhing under her, trying not to fall apart too fast. Jackie pulled back just enough to look down at you, lips glossy and eyes hooded. "I missed this."

You opened your mouth to respond, but it dissolved into a gasp when Jackie slid down your body, kissing your ribs, the curve of your waist, the dip below your navel. She hooked her fingers into your waistband and pulled your underwear down slowly, a wet patch visible on cotton, dragging them past your thighs and tossing them aside without a glance.

Jackie knelt between your legs, lips parted, eyes drinking you in.

"You're already dripping," she whispered, almost in awe.

Your fingers tightened in the sheets. "Then don't waste time."

Jackie leaned in and kissed your inner thigh. Teasing, reverent. Then another kiss, higher this time. And another, until her breath was ghosting over your soaked heat. Instinctively, your fingers found her soft hair, pulling on it, begging for her touch.

When her tongue finally slid through your folds, you let out a breathless moan. “Oh god.“

Jackie licked you slowly at first. Long, smooth strokes, savoring the taste, before settling into a rhythm that had your hips lifting off the bed. She flicked her tongue over your clit, sucked gently, then dove lower, lapping up everything like she couldn't get enough.

Your fingers found her hair, anchoring her. "Fuck, Jackie— don't stop.”

She didn’t. She couldn’t.

She moaned against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. One of her hands slid up, lacing your fingers together above your head. Intimate, grounding, while the other slipped between her own legs, rubbing herself as she devoured you like a secret she’d been dying to remember.

Your thighs began to shake. "God— Jackie! I'm gonna—"

You came hard, crying out her name, body tensing and then shattering beneath her. Jackie didn't stop, not until she felt every last wave ripple through her, not until you were whimpering, raw and ruined.

Jackie finally pulled back, lips wet, cheeks flushed, eyes glowing. She crawled back up, pressing soft kisses to your chest, your neck, the corner of your mouth.

You pulled her in, wrapping an arm around her waist, holding her there like you didn’t know what to say.

Jackie let her head rest against your shoulder, both of you breathing hard in the silence that followed. Then, Jackie whispered, almost laughing against her skin:

"Okay... maybe l'm still a little drunk."

You huffed a breathless laugh, burying your face in Jackie's hair. "We're so fucked."

Jackie nodded, snuggling in closer. "Yeah. But at least I came."

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