#Daniel Wagner

[gretavangroupie]

Petrichor - I

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Reader

Word Count: 12.0k

Warnings: Cursing, Alcohol, Angst, Touching, Kissing, Graphic Sexual Content, Oral Sex, Unprotected Sex, and More.

Listen to the Playlist: Apple Music

A/N: Okay, so… I disappeared again. I know. But in my defense, I was literally building a baby from scratch. I finally gave birth and now that I’m slowly crawling back to sanity and sleep, I’m also back to writing again. Massive thanks to my beautiful, deranged support system who cheered me on through pregnancy, hormones, and every half-written Google Doc. They always remind me that delusion is, in fact, a team sport. What brought me back from the depths you may ask? Jake Kiszka and Mirador. That man had the audacity, and now here we are. Let’s get back into it, shall we? ❤️

The rain in Dunhaven didn’t let up. Not for an hour, not for an entire week. Ever since you turned the key in the door of the rental cabin, tucked deep in the cedar trees. Dunhaven isn’t a town you will find on a map. It’s the kind of place most people only stumble upon on their way somewhere else. It’s a small town, maybe a thousand people total. There’s one place to eat, the diner called The Lantern, where the lights are always dim and the waitress doesn’t need to ask your name to know your order. There’s a tiny market, Bishops, that’s run by an older couple who never left this place. A small bookstore called The Nook, with a crooked sign and a small orange cat that roams the aisles. There are no stoplights, only one main road in and out, and a seemingly endless amount of rain.

Just outside of town the main road turns to gravel and at the end sits a row of three cabins, one of them, yours. It has blue shutters and is rented out seasonally to people who need space to unravel, like yourself. One has red shutters and is seemingly empty, and one has dark brown shutters and is tucked a little deeper into the woods, as if it’s trying not to be noticed. Ivy has grown over the side of the cabin, further camouflaging the wooden home. Initially you believed you were the only person around, that is, until recently. Late one night a rumble filled the air, and as you peeked through the window you saw a dim glow suddenly emanating from the window of the third cabin.

That was ten days ago.

You stand by the window now, a mug of tea cooling in your hands as you continue watching the rain blur the outside world. The maple tree in the front yard has begun to change colors, letting you know that fall is rapidly approaching in hues of rust and gold. The leaves sway in the wind as rain falls sideways in the neverending storm.

You’d found Dunhaven on accident, a listing appearing on Airbnb late one evening. You needed silence. A distraction. Maybe a little bit of isolation if you were honest. It had been fourteen days now, and you’d written exactly one paragraph. Every morning you would sit in the big velvet chair by the wood stove and write. Or at least try to.

You came to Dunhaven with a plan. Not a strict one by any means. You told everyone that you needed space to work on your next book, but what you’re really trying to write isn’t just any book. It’s the story you’ve never truly had the courage to tell. A story that's more personal than anything you’ve published.

You thought that being away from the noise of the city and the pressure that came with it would help strip things back, but the silence here is louder than you expected. You find yourself circling the same sentences over and over. Starting new pages only to delete them. Your notebook is filled to the brim with half thought out ideas that will never see the light of day. It feels like every time you try to give your main character a voice, she sounds too much like you, or maybe not enough. You keep writing her into scenes you’ve lived, but then deleting them out of guilt, because the truth is, this isn't just some fictional story about a woman who disappears into the woods. It’s about you, and the version of you that wonders if she has the right to want to change her ending. To want more from her life.

You came here to write a novel, but you may have to write yourself back to life first. That’s why you’re here. To figure out how.

The rain softens for just a moment, just a light mist sprinkling over the trees. After staring at the blinking cursor on your computer screen for the better part of two hours, the porch seemed like the best place to clear your head. So, with your mug of tea in hand, you open the front door and step out onto the damp wooden porch slats. You sit down on the porch swing and exhale, letting your legs sway gently back and forth. Across the way, the third cabin stands dark, the blinds drawn tight. There’s no sign of your mystery neighbor, not that you were really looking.

Well, maybe a little bit.

You close your eyes, listening to the wind blow through the trees, the fog beginning to set in again. It’s peaceful here. Until the rain returned, not soft this time but hard and fast. You jump up, splashing your tea as you rush towards the front door. But as you reach for the handle, you freeze.

It doesn’t turn.

You blink in realization and try again. Nothing.

“No,” you whisper, fumbling with your cardigan pocket, already knowing it’s empty. The key. It’s still inside on the little hook by the kitchen sink.

You suck in a breath, the rain soaking through the knitted material now, cold and wet against your skin. You turn and look out over the gravel road, your heart sinking in your chest. There’s not a soul around for miles.

Of course, the last sign of daylight begins to slip away faster than you realize. You huddle on the porch, the cold rain now completely soaking through your clothes as you press your back against the front door, gently sliding down to rest on the threshold.

You’ve been stuck outside for over an hour. Long enough for your tea to go cold and your thoughts to spiral. Two weeks. Fourteen days you’ve lived in this cabin and you’ve never actually seen another person here. Just the dark windows, the occasional glow of the porch light and the sporadic light coming through the main window late, late at night. You know someone is there, but whoever they are, they make themselves scarce.

As dusk begins to settle the solitude feels enormous. You find yourself continuing to check your pockets for the key that doesn't exist. You wrap your arms around yourself as your brain begins to taunt you. What if no one ever comes?

Thunder claps, rattling the sky as you force your eyes shut in fear. The rain is falling sideways again and you begin to shiver. Panic is starting to set in and you wonder how far the walk into town would be. Your bare feet are cold and wet as it is. Darkness has consumed the sky now, and the frogs and insects begin to stir, adding to the eerie feeling coming over you.

Then, you hear it. The soft crunch of gravel in the distance.

Your head snaps up to see a pair of yellow headlights cutting through the trees.

Your heart leaps, then falters. You blink rapidly in the low light as the headlights make their way towards you. Finally, they come to a stop at the dark cabin, shining through the rain like a beacon.

Your breath catches in your throat and you stand so quickly that you almost lose your balance, your feet slick on the wet porch. The engine of the old Jeep idles for a few more seconds before it turns off. The car door swings open and a pair of boots splash in the puddles of water. You strain your eyes, mind racing as you suddenly realize you are about to meet the person whose existence has plagued your mind the last ten days.

Your hand grips the wet porch railing as the man jogs up to his own porch, and you aren't sure if you're feeling relieved or terrified.

He stops just shy of his porch light and for a moment you consider running towards him, but before you make the move he stops. His silhouette is outlined by the yellow porch light, wrapped in a rain drenched flannel shirt. His hair is a mess of wet waves, pushed back from his face. As you stand there looking at him, it’s as if he senses it, turning around and looking directly at you. Your breath catches as his eyes lock on yours.

“Hey!” he calls out through the rain. “You okay?”

You try to answer but the words stop in your throat, causing you to shake your head. You take a deep breath and call out to him.

“I’m locked out,” you manage. “The key– I left it inside!”

Suddenly he steps off his porch, and jogs the short distance to yours, rain dripping from his face as he steps up onto the porch. He shakes the rain off of himself and drags a hand over his face. With him closer now you can see the dark shadows under his eyes, and the faint stubble on his chin. He smells like the rain and smoke and something earthy.

“You alright?” he asks.

You swallow hard, nodding. “I got locked out. I stepped outside for one second and the door shut behind me. Now I’m stuck. I’ve been out here since sunset.”

He eyes you up and down as he smirks, “Yeah, they do that. Winds shift quick up here.”

“I noticed.”

That produces a faint smile from him as he steps closer, reaching for the knob behind you to check for himself. Locked.

“I’ve got some tools inside,” he says, nodding towards his cabin. “If you want to wait…you can. Warmer than this atleast.”

His voice isn’t exactly inviting, but there’s no edge to it either. It’s just matter of fact, like this is something you’d do for a stranger, even if you don’t want to.

You hesitate, then nod.

“Alright,” he says, turning back towards his cabin, waiting for you to follow. You do, of course, not sure what else you’re supposed to do.

The porch light from his cabin glows dim behind the wall of rain. You catch up just before he opens the door, stepping aside to let you in first. As you step in you’re hit with a wall of warmth and the smell of cedar and coffee.

“Just sit wherever,” he instructs, his voice already trailing off as he makes his way towards the back of the cabin. “I’ll see what I’ve got.”

You stand there for a moment, dripping on the worn oriental rug, unsure where to go and unsure what just happened. You take in the room around you, a woodstove is humming in the corner, a row of bookshelves lining one wall, and a guitar rests against the arm of a chair that looks older than everything else in the room.

It’s only a few minutes before the man returns, the soft creak of the floor announcing his return. In his arms is a faded towel and a bundle of clothes. Without a word he holds them out to you.

“They’ve been sitting for a while, but they’re dry,” he says.

You reach for them, your fingers brushing against his as you accept, “Thank you.”

He nods politely and gestures vaguely down the hallway, “Bathroom’s the second door.”

You make your way down the hall, softly closing the door behind you. The clothes are soft, a well worn pair of sweatpants and a longsleeve henley that smells faintly of detergent and cologne. You peel off your wet clothes and towel off the best you can, thankful to slip into the unfamiliar warmth.

You return, barefoot and towel drying your hair, finding the man standing by the woodstove feeding it a log.

“Tea?” he asks, dusting his hands off on his jeans.

You nod, surprised, “Sure.”

He moves quietly towards the kitchen, no questions, no small talk. He just fills a kettle, lights the burner and leans back against his counter. You move towards his couch, taking the space at the end and tucking your feet beneath you. A few minutes later he returns with the mugs, handing one to you before taking the spot at the other end of the couch.

“Chamomile,” he says, “It’s all I have.”

“Perfect,” you answer, sipping the steaming hot tea.

It’s quiet for a while, just the hiss of the fire and the rain falling hard on the metal roof. Lightning flares behind the heavy curtains, followed quickly by a roll of thunder. The lights flicker briefly.

“I’m Jake, by the way,” he says, turning to look at you.

“Y/N,” you offer, “I’m renting the cabin next door, which…you obviously know.” you say, suddenly feeling stupid for over-explaining.

Jake takes a slow sip, “What brings you out here?”

You glance at him, he isn’t being nosy, he just seems curious. “I’m trying to write something,” you say, “A book.”

He nods, waiting for you to continue.

“I thought if it was quiet enough I would find something worth writing.”

That gets you a faint smile from his lips, “And have you?”

You huff a laugh, “No, not really.”

“Cabin’ll do that to you. Trap you in your own head.”

Another flash of lightning. You flinch a little and he notices, glancing sideways. “You from the city?”

You bite your lips together, “Yeah kind of, but not so much anymore.”

He nods like he understands. A few minutes pass then he speaks. “Have you been out here long?”

“Two weeks,” you admit, “Fourteen days exactly.”

“You counting?” he grins.

“Not on purpose,” you smile. “It’s just… a lot of days to stare at trees and a blinking cursor.”

“What are you writing exactly?” he asks.

You let out a breath, “A romance novel.”

“What kind?”

You swirl the tea around in your mug, “One I probably won’t finish.”

He lowers his voice, “That bad?”

“No,” you answer, “Just too close to home.”

He nods like he understands.

“What about you?” you ask, the lights flickering again.

“I needed the quiet,” he answers, “I’m avoiding strangers.”

“You’re doing a bad job,” you grin.

He laughs and smiles just enough for you to see a dimple in his cheek, “I know,” he pauses. “No, touring just got too…loud.”

“You’re in a band,” you confirm.

He shifts a little in his seat, “Yeah.”

You wait for more, but he doesn't elaborate. He just sips his tea.

“You’ve got a nice place,” you say quietly, the words almost drowned out by the sound of the thunder overhead.

“Thanks. Found it with my brother during lockdown. Figured I could come up here when I needed to… I don’t know. Catch my breath I guess.” he says.

“So are you catching it now?” you ask, “Your breath?”

He doesn't answer right away, his gaze locked on the fire. “Some days. Other days I think I’m just hiding.”

You feel that, deeply. Maybe because it sounds like something you would say.

“I get that,” you say. “Its strange isn't it? How the things we love and enjoy can take so much from us?”

His eyes meet yours, “I thought I’d feel better being alone,” he says. “Thought maybe I’d finally be able to write again, but the songs aren’t coming, and I think… I miss being seen.”

You study him for a moment, your heart slow and heavy. “I know exactly what you mean.”

He meets your eyes. “Yeah?”

You nod. “I came out here thinking I’d finally be brave enough to finish this book. Thought maybe solitude would strip me down to the truth.” You smile, soft and sad. “But all I’ve found is that I’m still scared. And I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

He huffs a breath. “You don’t seem scared.”

“I am.” You glance down, then back up. “But I think maybe I needed to say that out loud.”

Jake leans back slightly, gaze flicking over your face. “It’s kind of fucked up, isn’t it? That we have to get this far from everything just to be honest.”

You laugh, breathless. “Yeah. Feels like I’ve talked more in the last fifteen minutes than I have in two weeks.”

“Me too.”

The words settle, as the lights flicker once. Then again. Then go out completely, leaving only the light of the woodstove.

He chuckles under his breath, “Figures.”

You laugh too, a real one, and that surprises you.

He bites his lips together as he looks at you, and you can tell something is going on in his head.

“I should get my tools. See if I can get you back inside,” he says, placing his empty mug on the coffee table.

“Are you sure? It’s pouring…”

He shrugs, already rising to his feet. “I’ve done worse in worse weather.”

You smile faintly, “You don’t have to–”

“I know,” he says, grabbing his rain jacket from the hook by the door. “But I want to.”

You watch as he opens the door, tool bag in hand. He glances back at you before disappearing into the storm.

You sit there for a moment, listening to the fading sound of his boots running through the puddles outside. The woodstove crackles next to you, a nice warm hum in the dark, quiet house. You pull the blanket tighter around your shoulders as you sit back, letting your head fall against the couch cushion.

You’re not sure how long it's been. Longer than you expected. By the time he opens the door again, you’ve nearly fallen asleep. The sound of the door closing jolts you awake, and when you look up you find Jake standing at the door, completely soaked.

His hair is plastered to his face, and his jacket is dripping. His t-shirt clings to his chest in a way that is wholly distracting.

“No luck,” he says, “I tried the window too, but…” he shakes his head. “Everything is locked up tight. Landlord is gonna get you a key in the morning.”

He takes off his jacket and hangs it on the hook, followed by his shirt. He pulls it over his head in one smooth motion, revealing a section of smooth muscle beneath it. You look away instinctively, but not fast enough.

“Sorry,” he mutters, flashing a quick smile. “Didn’t mean to flash you.”

You stifle a grin. “It’s your house.”

He disappears into the hallway again and returns seconds later in a dry shirt and a pair of sweatpants, his hair still wet but no longer dripping.

“Did you bring your entire wardrobe with you?” you laugh.

“Three changes of clothes and my guitar. Only the essentials,” he says, making his way to the kitchen.

“You okay to stay here tonight?”

“If that's okay? Or I can book a hotel.”

“Of course it is. You’re not driving in this, you don’t have your keys or anything and the couch pulls out.”

You tuck your feet under yourself and nod. “Okay.”

“Wine?” he asks, holding up a bottle of red wine and two glasses.

“Uh, sure.” you answer.

He fills your glass, then his own, before sinking into the couch beside you. Closer this time. Maybe because it’s cold. Maybe because the wine makes everything easier. The fire flickers, the only light in the house. Shadows move over his face, softening the sharpness of him. His knee brushes yours, and neither of you moves.

“Thanks for trying to help. I don’t think many people would’ve gone out in that.”

He leans his head back, closing his eyes for a second. “It felt good to try. Even if it didn’t work.”

You study him for a moment. “Do you miss it? Being on the road?”

“Sometimes. But lately, I’ve been wondering if I miss the version of myself I thought I was when I was doing it.”

“I don’t think you have to be anyone specific to be worth something,” you say, surprising yourself with how sure you sound. “Maybe the stillness is telling you something.”

He turns his head, looks at you fully. “Like what?”

You shrug. “That who you are without the noise still matters.”

He watches you for a long time. Then he raises his glass slightly in your direction. “You’re good at this.”

You blink. “At what?”

“Being honest. Letting people be honest around you.”

You laugh, but it’s soft. “Only when I’m drinking and locked out.”

He smiles. “Lucky me then.”

You glance at him. There’s something different in his expression now. Something curious. Like he’s trying to figure out if this moment means more than it should.

You lift your glass again. “To being stuck.”

He clinks his against yours. “To finding something in it.”

And slowly, with the firelight flickering between you and the wine working its way into your blood, the air changes. His knee stays pressed against yours. His gaze lingers longer. His smile tugs something warm and dangerous in your chest.

The bottle of wine is well past empty and the fire’s glow throws lazy shadows on the walls. You stretch out along the couch, your legs tucked beneath you, glass cradled in your hands as you glance toward the guitar in the corner.

“Do you ever actually play that thing,” you ask, voice a little tipsy.

He follows your gaze and smiles, slow and crooked. “Sometimes.”

You nudge his knee with your foot. “Play something.”

He gives a dramatic sigh, but he’s already standing up, already pulling the worn strap over his shoulder as he lowers onto the arm of the couch beside you. “You’re kinda bossy with wine in you.”

“You’re stalling.” you say, raising a brow.

He plucks a few strings, tuning it by ear. The simple, familiar notes make your chest ache in a way you weren’t prepared for. And then, effortlessly, he starts to play.

It’s something soft. Something fingerpicked. It sounds old, and tender, and a little sad. His eyes stay mostly on the guitar, but he glances up at you once, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly when he sees you melt a little into the cushions.

You sip your wine slower now. He doesn’t sing, but he hums a little, low and rough in his chest, and the sound of it curls around the room like smoke. You close your eyes for a moment, feeling it in your bones.

By the time he plays the last few notes, you’re sunken deep into the corner of the couch, head tilted against the cushion. Your limbs are heavy and you feel warm.

“That was…” you start, but your voice comes out drowsy and soft.

Jake sets the guitar aside and leans back, looking over at you with something almost like amusement in his expression. “You’re fading.”

“Mmhmm,” you murmur. “That wine was stronger than I expected.”

He chuckles and you feel the sound in your chest as you watch him set the guitar aside with gentle hands. He nods at you to stand and you do, dropping the quilt from around you. He then stands and tugs the coffee table back a few inches, then grabs the base of the couch and begins pulling it open with a practiced motion.

You blink and smile. “Oh yeah, the pull out.”

“Glamorous, right?” he says, smirking slightly. “It’s not terrible... Better than sleeping at a rest stop.”

You watch him tug a fitted sheet tight, then drape a soft flannel blanket over it, followed by the quilt you’d been curled beneath only minutes ago. There’s something unspoken in the way he moves, efficient and familiar, like he’s done this before for people he cares about.

“I’ll get you a pillow,” he says, already heading toward the hallway.

He disappears for a minute and when he comes back, he tosses a well-worn pillow onto the mattress and meets your eyes for a beat too long.

“From my bed,” he says. “It’s the best one.”

You smile, sleep tugging at your face. “You spoiling me?”

Jake shrugs one shoulder and folds his arms. “Just being a decent host. My mother would have it no other way.”

There’s a look in his eyes you can’t quite place, something softer than banter, quieter than flirtation. He stands there a moment longer, then rubs his hand over his mouth, the firelight flickering over his arms.

“You need anything else?” he asks.

You shake your head slowly, already lying down and pulling the quilt up to your chest. “No. This is… perfect.”

He watches you for a second, like he doesn’t want to leave just yet, then finally he nods once and turns to head down the hall.

You close your eyes, but even as you begin to drift, you can smell his cologne on the pillow. Something woodsy and warm. You breathe it in deeper than you mean to and as sleep threatens to take you, you realize you don’t feel like just a guest here anymore.

Later, the room has gone quiet. The fire has dwindled to a low, pulsing glow, and the wine’s lull has finally caught up to you. You curl deeper into the quilt, Jake’s pillow cradling your cheek.

You let your eyes close. But you don’t fall asleep, not fully.

Instead, you hover. In that space between rest and waking, where thoughts loosen their grip and become feeling.

You think about the music he played, the way his fingers moved across the strings like second nature. You wonder how long it took him to learn that kind of touch. You wonder if it’s the same kind he uses in other parts of his life. Gentle, precise and reverent.

You turn onto your side, drawing the quilt tighter around your shoulders. The pillow still smells like him. You breathe it in, slower this time, and your chest rises in time with the deep exhale that follows. You feel your body pressing against the fabric, against the thought of him in the next room, stretched out in a bed that also smells like him. And that feeling, that knowing he’s there, keeps you just awake enough to notice the quietest things.

The ticking of the clock. The faint groan of the house settling. The patter of rain on the roof.

Then you begin to drift.

You’re not sure how long it’s been, but you hear the distant sound of a door creak open, then the muffled click of a light switch.

And another. And another.

You open your eyes to harsh light. The power must have come back on. You realize it just as Jake moves through the space, flipping switches off as he goes.

You hear him pause in the kitchen. The overhead light clicks off, and the warm spill of it disappears from behind your eyelids. But the room doesn't go dark right away. There's still the faint orange hum from the dying fire.

You blink your eyes open again, just barely and you see the shape of him in the doorway now, silhouetted from the light in the hallway casting a glow around his frame.

“Hey,” you murmur, voice soft.

Jake stills. “Did I wake you?”

“Not really,” you say, not moving. “I was just… floating.”

He leans a shoulder against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Floating?”

“Mhm.” You yawn, pressing your cheek deeper into the pillow he brought you. “That space between sleep and dreaming. It’s nice there.”

Jake lets out a small, tired laugh. “Sounds peaceful.”

You nod slowly, your gaze still hazy and wine clouded. “It was. Then you started doing laps.”

He smiles, faint and crooked. “Power came back on. Thought I’d kill the lights before the place started buzzing like Vegas.”

“Thanks,” you whisper, voice barely audible above the crackle of the fire.

Jake tilts his head, studies you with those heavy, thoughtful eyes. “You comfortable?”

You nod again, slower this time. “Mmhm. Pillow’s a little dangerous, though.”

He quirks a brow. “Dangerous?”

“It smells like you.”

Jake huffs through his nose, a small, caught-off-guard sound. “Is that a complaint?”

“Not sure yet,” you murmur. “Still deciding.”

Another quiet stretch passes. He runs a hand through his hair, his voice quieter now. “Let me know if you need anything.”

You shift a little under the quilt, watching him linger. “You could stay a minute.”

He watches you for a beat longer, like he’s weighing something. Then he nods once and crosses the room. The bed dips beside you. He sits on the edge, turning just enough to face the fire. Close, but not quite touching.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you ask.

Jake huffs out a dry laugh. “Couldn’t shut my brain up.”

You shift slightly to face him, the quilt rustling as you do. “What’s it saying?”

He takes a long pause before answering. Like he’s debating whether to say it at all.

“I miss home a little. Miss my brothers.” he finally says. “More than I thought I would.”

You watch him, quiet.

“Josh and I…” He trails off, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “We’re twins, so there’s always been this… thread between us. Doesn’t matter if we’re in different cities or different countries…I still feel him. But lately it’s been fuzzier. Like the signal’s cutting out.”

You don’t speak, you just let him continue.

“I think I always thought we’d do everything side by side,” Jake goes on. “But our lives started splitting in ways I didn’t expect. And now I go home and sometimes he feels like a stranger. Still familiar, still… mine. But distant. Like we’re playing different songs and pretending we’re in the same key.”

“That sounds hard,” you say quietly.

He nods, still staring into the fire.

“And Sam’s always been this wild card,” Jake continues. “Heart-on-his-sleeve type. But lately even he seems to be holding things a little closer.”

“You feel like the odd one out?”

Jake exhales, low and honest. “Yeah. I guess I do.”

You shift a little closer beneath the quilt. “I’ve felt that way too. Not with siblings, but... people I thought I’d always understand. People I thought would always understand me.”

He looks at you, his eyes soft and unguarded in the firelight.

“You seem like you don’t let people in unless they’ve earned it,” he says.

You shrug one shoulder. “I don’t think I know how to, unless I really trust them.”

Jake nods. “Yeah. Same.”

Another quiet beat passes, then he glances down at the quilt covering you.

“I’m glad you got locked out,” he says, voice low and sure.

You smile faintly. “Me too.”

He leans closer, close enough now that you nearly touch. “You warm enough?”

You nod. “Quilt’s perfect.”

“I could grab another one if—”

“No, stay,” you say. It slips out before you can second-guess it. But you mean it.

He pauses, then nods once moving to settle next to you on the pull out. You can feel the shift of his weight through the thin mattress, hearing the metal frame creak beneath you.

He exhales sharply, “Jesus. This thing is criminal.”

You let out a soft laugh, “It’s not that bad…”

“No, it’s like sleeping on scaffolding wrapped in cotton batting.”

You hum. “You sure know how to romance a girl.”

He turns his head slightly to look at you, one brow raised. “You want honesty or ambiance?”

You grin in the dark. A moment passes. Then he shifts again, half sitting up.

“Alright,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. “This is ridiculous.”

You blink at him. “What?”

He rubs a hand over his face. “This couch... Us pretending like it’s not the most miserable setup known to man.”

You raise an eyebrow.

He gestures toward the hallway. “Come to my bed. I promise, scout’s honor, I won’t touch you or anything weird.”

You hesitate, examining his face.

He softens. “It’s just warmer, and the mattress doesn’t have exposed bones.”

You laugh under your breath, but something about his tone disarms you. He’s not flirtatious when he says it. He’s just tired. And kind.

“Okay,” you murmur, pushing the quilt off.

He stands and holds it out for you like a cape, draping it around your shoulders once you’ve risen. He waits while you slip your arms through, then walks ahead down the hallway as you follow.

The bedroom door creaks open, and you step inside, immediately met with the warm, lived-in scent of him. It smells like cedarwood and sleep and something slightly smoky, like he’s been burning incense.

He scratches the back of his neck and glances at the bed. “Uh, ignore the mess. I wasn’t expecting company.”

You look around. It’s not messy at all. Just...Jake. A couple of worn paperbacks on the nightstand. An empty mug. A cracked window letting in the hum of the night.

“This is the cleanest bachelor bedroom I’ve ever seen,” you say.

“Oh good. I swept it like, once... in May.”

You smirk. “Impressive.”

He pulls back the blankets on the other side of the bed and gestures for you to climb in. “Just, make yourself comfortable. You want the side closer to the window or the wall?”

“Window,” you say instantly.

“Adventurous,” he mutters. “I respect that.”

You crawl in, still wrapped in the quilt, and sink into the bed. It's warm from his body, and the sheets are soft cotton and smelling like soap. He slides in on the other side, groaning softly as he settles.

“God, this is already a thousand times better.”

You turn toward him, propping yourself on an elbow. “So this is your whole master plan, huh? Lure me into your bed with complaints about the pullout couch you told me wasn’t terrible…”

His mouth tugs into a half-smile, eyes closed. “Hey, I did warn you. I have purely self-serving motives. You’ve caught me.”

“You sure you don’t mind?” you ask quietly.

Jake’s eyes open again. He looks over at you in the dark, something soft and serious lingering in his expression.

“Mind? I’m trying not to get ahead of myself and buy you a toothbrush.”

You laugh and your cheeks warm, but then you go still.

He doesn’t seem to notice at first, still grinning faintly to himself, eyes closing again like he’s fully content. Like this is normal for him. Like inviting strange women into his bed is just... something he does.

“Is there…” you start, your voice quieter now. “Someone who might already have a toothbrush here?”

His smile disappears, and his eyes open again. He turns to face you properly, head resting on the pillow.

“No,” he says, without hesitation.

You raise an eyebrow, not fully convinced. “You sure? Feels like the kind of setup where there might be a girl back home, maybe one who shows up every few weeks. One of those situations.”

He exhales a small laugh. “God. No. I’m not that mysterious.”

You stay quiet.

He blinks up at the ceiling. “I mean, there was someone. Not recently. It was a while ago, and I think we both knew it was done.”

You nod slowly, your expression softening.

He shifts, propping himself up slightly on one elbow to look at you better. “Why? You worried you’re the other woman?”

“Just making sure you’re not the other man,” you tease gently and that gets a real smile out of him. He lays back onto his pillow now, his dark hair splayed around him.

“No, um…It just… didn’t survive all the coming and going. That lifestyle's hard enough without dragging someone else through it.”

“So you let her go?”

“Nah, we both did,” he says. “I think I always knew I couldn’t stay still long enough to be good at it. The normal stuff. Dinner at the same table. Weekends off. Meeting families. I was half-there all the time. Always had one foot on stage and the other in a hotel room.” He swallows. “Didn’t feel right to keep pretending and she deserved better.”

You watch the way his throat bobs, how his hands are folded tightly over his stomach like he’s holding himself together. There's no ego in his voice, just the weight of someone who’s disappointed people, even when he didn’t mean to.

“You weren’t pretending,” you say softly. “You were just doing what you had to do to survive.”

He lets out a tired breath. “Maybe. But sometimes I wonder if I’m meant to be alone. Like I got wired differently. Like it’s easier to love from a distance.”

The quiet that follows is so vulnerable, so unguarded, it makes your chest ache. You reach for his hand, at first just to anchor him, a simple, steadying touch. But when your fingers graze his knuckles, he turns his palm up to meet you and interlocks his fingers with yours like it’s instinct. Like he’s been waiting for a reason.

Your skin tingles. Neither of you says anything. But you shift a little closer. He doesn’t pull back, in fact, his thumb brushes softly over your hand, back and forth, like a nervous rhythm.

Then he turns his face toward you, eyes darker in the dim light, voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re dangerous,” he murmurs.

You smile, “You invited me into your house.”

His eyes drop to your mouth and your fingers tighten around his. Then, carefully, he leans in and kisses you. Just once. Just to see if you’ll let him.

You do.

When he kisses you again your hand finds the back of his neck. You pull him in like gravity. Like maybe neither of you is wired wrong after all. His lips linger against yours like he’s afraid the spell might break. When he finally pulls back, it’s slow, almost reluctant. His forehead rests against yours, breath warm between you.

His voice is soft, nearly swallowed by the quiet of the room. “What about you?” he asks. “Anyone waiting for you?”

Your eyes open, and he’s right there, close enough to count every freckle, every heartbeat. The question hangs in the air, heavier than you expect. It’s not jealousy. It’s something else.

You shake your head. “No. There was someone… a while ago.” You pause, your voice catching. “But I think we both wanted versions of each other that didn’t exist anymore.”

Jake studies you like he already understands. Like he’s lived that version too.

“Did it hurt?” he asks gently.

You nod, your voice barely a whisper. “Yeah. Not because he left… but because I stopped showing up for myself. I gave too much away and when it ended, I didn’t even know what I liked anymore.”

Jake exhales, like he’s been holding that same ache. “I’m glad you’re here now,” he says. “I know that probably doesn’t mean much, but… I am.”

You glance down at his hand in yours, thumb tracing the shape of his fingers.

“It does mean something,” you say.

He watches you for a long moment, like he’s trying to memorize this version of you, sleepy, disarmed, honest. Then he presses a kiss to your knuckles and lets his forehead touch yours again.

Neither of you moves to fill the silence.

You stay like that for a while, forehead to forehead, hand in hand, saying nothing. Letting the silence stretch out and settle between you like a blanket. Then he shifts slightly, glancing down to where your fingers are still threaded together.

“Well,” he murmurs, voice warm and a little sheepish, “I think I’ve already failed at not touching you or anything weird.”

You let out a soft, breathy laugh, the kind that slips out before you can think to stop it. “You’re right,” you say, brushing your thumb along the inside of his wrist. “Terrible job. Really unprofessional.”

You’re smiling, but he’s looking at you again, this time more serious.

“I didn’t mean to cross a line,” he says softly. “I just… I don’t know. You feel like something real. And I haven’t had real in a long time.”

That cracks something open in you. You press your palm against his chest and let your eyes linger there. “You didn’t cross a line.”

He swallows. “Good.”

Then quieter, almost like he’s admitting it to himself, “I don’t think I could stop wanting you if I tried.”

The words make something flip in your chest. He’s not trying to seduce you. He’s trying to tell you the truth.

Your voice is small, but steady. “You don’t have to stop.”

He looks at you like he’s seeing you for the first time. He doesn’t rush. He doesn’t pounce. He just leans forward and kisses you again, slow, tender and aching.

His lips are warm against yours, soft and unhurried. When he pulls back, it’s barely an inch. His breath brushes your cheek.

“You make it really hard to be good,” he murmurs, the ghost of a smile playing at his lips.

You feel your chest rise with a shaky breath. “Who said you had to?”

He groans quietly. “You saying that while you’re in my bed, wearing my shirt, is just cruel.”

Your lips twitch into a teasing smile. “What, this old thing?” you tug lightly at the hem of his henley draped over your thighs. “Didn’t realize it was such a hazard.”

He exhales a laugh, “Hazard? It’s a goddamn weapon.”

You raise an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Oh? And who’s the victim?”

He turns on his side to face you, propping his head on his hand. His gaze drags over your face, lingering on your lips like he’s deciding whether to behave.

“Me,” he says simply. “Completely defenseless.”

Something flutters hot in your stomach. “You don’t seem very defenseless.”

His mouth curves. “You have no idea.”

The quiet between you suddenly feels electric. You realize he’s closer now, you can feel the warmth of him under the quilt, the faint brush of his knee against your leg. His hand shifts slightly, almost without him noticing, his fingers grazing over your wrist.

“Jake…” your voice is barely above a whisper, but it’s not a warning.

He tilts his head, his eyes catching yours in the dim light. “Say my name like that again.”

You swallow. “Jake.”

He lets out the softest groan, one that curls deep in your belly. His thumb brushes over your skin, lazy and deliberate.

“You’re killing me,” he mutters. “You know that, right?”

“Maybe,” you tease, your voice softer now, breathy.

“Yeah, you do,” he says, his hand sliding slowly from your wrist to your forearm, up to the curve of your shoulder, the touch barely-there but searing all the same.

You lean in slightly without thinking, drawn like gravity. The space between your faces narrows until his breath fans across your lips.

“Still wanna be good?” you whisper, eyes dropping to his lips.

He smirks, that slow, dangerous kind of smirk, and shakes his head just a little. “Not even trying anymore.”

Then he kisses you, deeper this time, not testing, but wanting. His hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you in as the quilt shifts around you, your bodies edging closer.

“You sure about this?” His fingers ghost the hem of your shirt, barely brushing the skin of your thigh where the fabric’s ridden up under the blankets.

“I’m in your bed, aren’t I?” you whisper.

He exhales a laugh that’s more air than sound. “Yeah. Yeah, you are.”

His mouth finds yours, harder this time. Gone is the cautious, measured kiss from before. This is heat. Need. His hand cups your jaw, thumb angling your chin so he can deepen the kiss. You open for him, and he groans into it, low and rough.

The blankets bunch as he shifts closer. Your knee slides over his hip as he fits his hand beneath your thigh and drags you flush against him. There’s no mistaking what you feel between you now, hot and insistent, the kind of want that leaves no room for misunderstanding.

“Fuck,” he breathes against your lips. “Say my name.”

“Jake.”

He kisses you, his palm slipping under the back of the shirt, up along your spine. When his fingers splay at the base of your neck, you arch your back. He kisses along your jaw, your throat, tasting the saltiness of your skin.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” he murmurs between kisses. “I mean it.”

“Don’t stop.”

His laugh is ruined and grateful. “Okay.”

He rolls, guiding you over him to straddle his hips. He runs his hands up your thighs, over your hips, and under the loose fabric of the shirt until his thumbs catch the hem of your underwear. He pauses, and meets your eyes in question.

You rock down against him with a smirk instead of answering.

His head tips back in response. “Jesus.”

You start to move, finding a rhythm, a slow drag, heat-to-heat through cotton, pressing down as he lifts to meet you. His hands lock at your waist to guide the movement, his grip tightening every time you roll just right. You can feel him straining and the tremor in his thighs under you.

“You’re killing me, baby,” he rasps.

“Good.”

He laughs and sits up a little, kissing you again, deeper, his tongue sliding against yours. One hand leaves your waist to slip beneath the front of the shirt, his palm flattening over your stomach, then higher. He groans when he finds your bare skin.

“Mmm…” He pauses, breath stuttering. “No bra...”

“Problem?” you ask, smug through a gasp.

“Oh yeah, big one,” he says, thumb circling just beneath the swell of your breast.

You roll again, harder, and the sound that rips out of him is pure hunger. He catches your wrist, guiding your hand down between your bodies, pressing you against the hard line of him through cotton. “Feel what you’re doing to me?”

“Yes.” Your voice shakes. “Jake…”

The friction builds, wine and want and weeks of quiet crashing together. You’re lightheaded, heat coiling low and tight. He feels the shift, you know he does because his grip turns commanding, steadying you, angling you, pushing you through the drag that makes your breath break.

“That’s it,” he grits, lips at your ear as he rolls your nipple between his fingers. “Right there. Don’t run. Stay with me.”

You do. You stay. You grind against him, clutching his shoulders, chasing the pulse that spikes and snaps and bursts, trembling, biting his shoulder to muffle the sound spilling out of you as your orgasm rips through you.

He holds you through it, breathing hard, whispering, “Yeah… yeah, that’s it. Good girl.” His hand strokes your back, your thigh, your breasts, grounding you until the rush eases.

You sag against him, cheek pressed to his chest. His heart is pounding in time with yours.

“Still cruel,” he murmurs.

“You handled it,” you pant.

He huffs a quiet laugh. “Barely.”

But there’s nothing light in his voice now. Just heat, thick and low and hungry. His hand returns to your hip beneath the quilt, fingers flexing, then sliding over the curve of your ass, like he’s reacquainting himself with what he just barely resisted taking further.

“You’re playing a risky game,” he murmurs, voice rough against your temple.

You shift slightly, just enough to press your thigh more firmly between his. “So are you.”

He groans, and suddenly he’s rolling you both until you’re underneath him. The weight of him is everything, grounding and electric, and the moment his hips settle between your legs, you feel it. All of him. Still hard. Still holding back.

“Fuck,” he breathes, rocking into you once, just enough to drag a gasp from your lips. “This pull… it’s insane. I’ve never—”

You cut him off with a kiss, hands threading into his hair, desperate now. Your bodies slot together like they were made to, his shirt still hanging off your frame, barely covering anything. He thrusts again, slow and deep, and you moan into his mouth, hips meeting him instinctively.

His hand slips between you again, finding you through your panties, thumb pressing right where you’re pulsing, aching. You arch against him, gasping, clutching his shoulders. “Jake—”

He groans into your neck. “I need to hear how close you are again. I need to feel it.”

You’re already unraveling under him, shivering, panting, chasing that edge with wild, frantic rolls of your hips. He works you perfectly, mouth at your throat, hand between your thighs, cock grinding against your soaked center.

“That’s it,” he whispers. “Come for me again, baby. I’ve got you.”

And you do, crying out against his shoulder, body shaking as you clamp down around nothing, desperate to feel him inside. He moans with you, hips jerking once, twice, then he pulls away, barely.

He peels his shirt off your body with reverence, like he’s unwrapping something sacred. His gaze roves over you slowly, pausing on your bare chest. “God, you’re beautiful.”

Then his mouth is on you, sucking your nipple into his mouth while his hand palms your other breast, rolling the peak between his fingers. Your spine arches off the bed and your moan is sharp and sudden, curling into the air.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, switching sides. “Let me hear you.”

Every kiss, every drag of tongue and scrape of teeth is measured, not teasing, but worshiping. He trails lower, nipping his way down your ribs, your stomach, your hips, until he’s kneeling between your thighs and tugging your underwear down your legs.

He kisses your inner thigh, then the other, pausing to breathe you in.

“You’re soaked, beautiful,” he says.

You nod, breathless. “Please…”

“Say it,” he whispers, brushing his lips just above where you need him. “Tell me what you want.”

“Your mouth.” Your voice trembles. “Jake, I want your mouth on me.”

He groans and dives in. The first stroke of his tongue is slow and firm, and your whole body jolts. He licks again, then again, finding a rhythm that has your thighs shaking and your hands fisting in the sheets. His arms loop beneath your hips, holding you in place, anchoring you while he devours you like it’s his life’s purpose.

He groans into you when you cry out, his mouth moving faster, wetter, messier, and then one of his fingers slides inside, curling perfectly, and your vision blacks out.

“Jake, oh my god—” You buck against his face, overwhelmed. “I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” he growls, voice muffled. “Let go, baby. I want you to come on my mouth.”

You unravel hard, gasping his name as the orgasm crashes through you. He holds you through every spasm, guiding you through it, greedy even as you tremble and twitch. Only when you whimper from sensitivity, does he finally pull away, chin glistening, eyes wild.

He climbs back up your body, kisses your neck, your jaw, your lips, and you taste yourself on him. It only turns you on more.

“You okay?” he whispers, brushing hair off your face.

You nod, still breathless. “That was…”

He smiles. “Yeah.”

Then you reach for the waistband of his boxers. He grabs your wrist, gentle but firm. “You don’t have to—”

You rise to your knees, mouth close to his ear. “I want to.”

That’s all it takes.

Jake kicks off his boxers, cock springing free, thick and flushed. You wrap your hand around him and he groans, the sound raw, almost desperate.

“Jesus… fuck…”

You stroke him slowly, watching his mouth fall open, his head tilt back, the way his hips stutter with every pass of your thumb over the tip. Then you dip down, licking along the underside before taking him in your mouth.

His hand flies to your hair.

You go slow, sucking gently, tongue swirling, hand working what you can’t fit. He watches you with hooded eyes, breath ragged, every muscle in his stomach tight.

“God, that mouth…” he mutters, voice breaking. “I’m not gonna last if you keep…shit—”

You take him deeper and he groans, louder this time, hips flexing forward.

“Baby, st—stop, I gotta be inside you. Please…”

You pull back with a wicked smile. “Then get up here.”

He moves fast, pressing you into the pillows, kissing you hard. You reach between you and guide him in, the head of his cock nudging your entrance. You’re still slick, still pulsing from before, and the stretch is slow and thick and perfect as he slides inside.

“Fuck, you feel incredible,” he groans, braced above you, forehead to yours.

Then he starts to move. It’s not rushed, but deep. Rhythmic. Over and over, grinding against that sweet spot inside you while his hands roam your body. He kisses you through it, everywhere he can reach.

He grabs your thigh and lifts it, changing the angle, and suddenly every thrust is pure fire burning through you. You cry out, grabbing his shoulders, clawing for something to anchor you.

“Right there?” he grits, his silver necklace swinging between you as he watches your face twist with pleasure.

“Yes God, yes, Jake—”

“I’ve got you,” he says again. “I’m not stopping till you fall apart around me.”

You come with a cry, clenching around him, nails digging into his back. He follows you seconds later, burying himself deep and groaning your name, one hand buried in your hair, the other gripping your hip like he never wants to let go.

The world stills for those few seconds.

He slumps against you, careful not to crush you, breathing heavily. You stroke his back, his hair, both of you sweat-slicked and still shaking.

He lifts his head and kisses you. “You okay?”

You nod, dazed. “You?”

He smiles and laughs. “I’m fuckin’ beat.”

He pulls out slowly, grabs a towel from the floor and gently cleans you up. You lie heaving together, sweaty skin glistening in the dim light, hearts pounding. He pulls a pillow under your heads and strokes your hair as you catch your breath, both of you still riding the aftershocks as your eyes grow heavy.

He’s warm and quiet against your back, his fingers drawing absent, lazy shapes along your side, down the curve of your waist, the dip of your hip, like he can’t stop touching you. But then, he sighs.

“Jake?” you whisper, voice groggy.

His hand pauses, then slides away.

“Sorry,” he says quietly, voice raw.

You shift slightly to face him. He’s on his back now, staring at the ceiling with his hand behind his head, his jaw tight in the moonlight. You reach for his chest and lay your palm there. His heart’s still thudding hard beneath your hand. Maybe yours is too.

“You okay?” you ask.

He swallows. His voice is rough when he finally answers. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

You feel your heart drop to your stomach. “Oh.”

“No, fuck. I didn’t mean it like that,” he says quickly, sitting up slightly, resting on one elbow so he can see your face. “Not that I regret it. Not for a second. I just… I promised myself I wasn’t gonna cross any lines.”

His eyes search yours. “It’s not that I didn’t want it. I did. I do.”

Your lips part in surprise, but he doesn’t let you speak just yet.

“I just don’t want you to feel like I used you to fill some empty space in me. Like I needed something and just took it.”

You sit up slowly and cup the side of his face. “Jake, you didn’t take anything I didn’t offer.”

He leans into your touch for a second, then catches your wrist and kisses the inside of it.

“I know. I know. It’s just… it’s not usually like that for me. I don’t usually…” He hesitates. “I don’t usually do this. And I never talk after. But with you… I could lie here and talk all night. Which is terrifying.”

You give him a soft, amused look. “Terrifying?”

He nods. “Yeah. Because it means this already feels different. It feels real and I wasn’t expecting that.”

His fingers trail along the edge of the sheet between you, like his body needs to stay in contact with you even though his brain is swirling. You move closer, wrapping your fingers around his wrist to stop its movement.

“It feels real to me, too.”

He closes his eyes for a moment like he’s letting that sink in, like it hits somewhere deep in his chest. When he opens them again, they’re glassy, softer than you’ve ever seen. He kisses you, slow this time. No frenzy. Just quiet want and something more tender that neither of you dares name out loud yet. You shift closer and feel the way he’s still hard against your thigh, and you can tell, just from the way he shudders at the contact that he’s been holding himself back.

“You’re looking at me like you still want me,” you say softly, a small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“I do,” he whispers. His eyes sweep over you slowly and he leans in, kissing you, so much gentler than before, lips plush and lingering, unhurried.He nudges your thighs open, fitting himself between them like it’s instinct, like this was always going to happen.

His forehead rests to yours as he sinks into you, inch by inch, slow and careful. You gasp, arms wrapping around his back, and he stills, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Breathe for me, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “There you go. That’s it.”

Your body stretches around him, welcoming and wet, and he groans low in his throat. You hold onto him like the only thing real is the feel of his body inside yours, deep and full, a perfect ache.

“God,” he murmurs, eyes fluttering shut. “You feel so fuckin’ good.”

You moan quietly, your hands roaming the smooth muscle of his back, your lips brushing his jaw, then his ear. The tension in him starts to unravel, and so does yours. He moves slowly, hips rolling in a smooth rhythm, like a tide pulling in.

“Look at me,” he whispers, voice gravely and sweet.

You do. Your eyes meet his, and there’s something unguarded in his expression.

“You okay?” he asks softly, pushing deeper.

You nod, gasping, clutching his shoulder. “Yeah. God, Jake…”

“Talk to me,” he breathes. “Tell me what you want.”

“This,” you whisper, breath catching. “Just… stay with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says, lips brushing yours.

You move together in slow, dragging waves, bodies slick with sweat, tangled in warmth and moonlight. His hands cup your face, your hips, your breasts. Yours roam through his hair, down his spine, nails catching lightly when he hits the spot that makes your legs quake.

He talks you through it, soft and low. “That’s it. I got you. Let go.”

You come slow and full, eyes locked on his, your voice caught in a broken sob against his shoulder. And he’s right there with you, his hips stutter and he gasps, forehead pressed to yours as he follows you over the edge with a groan and your name on his lips.

After, he doesn’t move. He just breathes with you. Chest to chest, heart to heart. His nose brushes your cheek and you press a kiss to his temple.

“That…” he murmurs. “That just ruined me.”

You smile, dazed, fingers trailing lazy circles on his back. “In a good way?”

“In the only way,” he says. “I think you just wrecked me for anything that isn’t this.”

He rolls slightly so you’re curled to his chest, still joined, still warm. His hand finds yours beneath the covers, threading your fingers together. You lie there like that, silent and sated, wrapped in the kind of closeness that’s deeper than sex.

He turns slightly so you’re face to face, one hand brushing a loose strand of hair off your cheek. “That wasn’t just... I mean– You felt that too, right?”

Your stomach flips, but you nod. “Yeah. I did.”

Jake licks his lips, like he’s working up to something and doesn’t want to scare you off. “It’s weird,” he says. “We don’t really know each other. Not really. But that didn’t feel like two strangers, did it?”

“No,” you whisper. “It didn’t.”

His brows draw together slightly, like he’s trying to sort through a hundred things at once. “You made me feel... safe. That’s not something I usually feel right away. Especially not like this.”

You study his face, how serious he suddenly looks. “I could say the same.”

He nods, almost to himself, and glances toward the window where the moonlight spills through the blinds. Then he glances back. “What’s your middle name?”

The question surprises a laugh out of you. “Really?”

“I’m serious,” he says, smiling now, just a little. “It’s weird to have already been inside you and not know something like that.”

You tell him and he hums. “Pretty. Suits you.”

There’s another pause. Your bodies are starting to relax into each other, muscles slowly unclenching as the high fades into something quieter.

You brush your fingers across his ribs. “What about you?”

“Thomas,” he says. “After my grandfather.”

You nod and trace the shape of the name over his skin with your fingertip. Neither of you says anything more. You don’t need to. You just stay like that, close, but not clinging. Curious, but not asking for more.

He pulls the blanket a little higher over your backs, his body warm against yours, chest rising and falling in sync with your own. You feel him press one last kiss to your shoulder, soft and gentle. Now, sleep comes easy. Not because everything makes sense, but because, somehow, for tonight… it doesn’t have to.

—

You wake to a flash of lightning that pulses brightly through the curtains. A second later, thunder cracks, sharp and close enough to rattle the windowpane.

Your eyes fly open and you feel that the bed is cold beside you. Jake is gone.

The sheets are crumpled, his scent still clinging to the pillows. You sit up slowly, the ache between your thighs a reminder of everything that happened just hours ago. You pull the blanket around yourself and listen. No footsteps. Just rain. And the faint hiss of fire.

You slide out of his bed and pad down the hall barefoot, the floorboards cool under your feet. The storm drums steadily on the roof, but the house is otherwise quiet.

Then, in the dim glow spilling from the living room, you see him.

Jake sits cross-legged in front of the fireplace, shirtless, a flannel thrown loosely around his shoulders with the sleeves pushed up. His fingers work a piece of kindling into the embers, his face calm but distant, eyes locked on the flames.

He doesn’t hear you at first, so you just watch him. This man you barely know, now suddenly someone you’ve slept with, someone who kissed you like he meant it and held you like he didn’t want morning to come.

You clear your throat softly and his head jerks toward you, eyes wide for a beat before he relaxes.

“Hey,” he says, voice rough with sleep and maybe nerves. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” you say, tightening the blanket around your chest. “Lightning did.”

Jake nods toward the window. “Yeah. It’s wild out there this morning.”

You hover in the doorway for a second, unsure what this is now. If you’re supposed to act casual. If he regrets it or if you do.

He scoots to the side and pats the rug next to him. “You can sit, if you want.”

You cross the room and lower yourself beside him. The fire is warm. The air between you… less so.

Jake shifts his gaze to the flames again. “Didn’t sleep too much.”

You glance at him. “Me neither.”

He gives a small nod like he expected that. His fingers drum lightly on his knee. The silence that follows is softer somehow. Not quite comfortable, but not cold either.

He pokes at the fire again, “I’ve got coffee. If you want.”

You nod. “I’d like that.”

He stands, stretching briefly, and disappears into the kitchen. You stay sitting on the rug, watching the flames lick upward. Everything smells like smoke and cedar and him. He brings you a mug, coffee filled to the brim, and as you sip it, you can tell he’s been up for a while. It’s lukewarm in your mug, but you drink it anyway, legs tucked beneath you on the couch. The fire’s burned low now, crackling lazily, the storm thinning to a mist outside the window in just the few short minutes since you woke.

Jake leans against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, hair still wild from sleep, the flannel now buttoned halfway up his chest. His gaze keeps flicking toward the door, then back to you, like he’s trying to figure out what to say, or if he should say anything at all.

You finish the last sip of your coffee and set the mug down on the side table. The quiet between you stretches. You stand and make your way towards the bathroom, quickly changing out of his clothes and back into your now dry ones. As you step back into the living room, you find he hasn’t moved.

You clear your throat. “I should probably head back… right?”

“Oh, the landlord dropped off a key on your porch this morning,” he says, voice casual. “Says he couldn’t get hold of you last night.”

“Oh, yeah. I don’t– my phone is in the cabin.”

Silence fills the room, punctuated only by rain pattering against the windows.

Jake smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He moves around the table to stand in front of you. “I can walk you over,” he offers. “Back to your cabin.”

You hesitate, then nod. “Okay. Thanks.”

Outside, the rain’s let up to a misty drizzle. You follow him out, the cool air prickling your skin. He walks beside you, neither of you touching, but both wanting to.

On your porch, you see the key resting on the railing, a bright green piece of leather hanging from the end. You pick it up, slightly wet and cold in your palm.

“Guess we should say goodbye,” you say, voice small.

He swallows. “Yeah.”

You meet his gaze. The moment stretches on, longer than it should for two strangers. Your heart aches with unsaid things.

“Well…” you begin, fumbling for words. “Thank you. For… last night, and for coffee.”

He runs a hand through his damp hair. “Thank you for staying.”

You smile, awkward but genuine. “I—maybe I’ll see you around?”

Jake’s lips curve upward, but he doesn’t say “yes.” Instead, he nods once.

Your pulse races. You step closer, hand brushing his arm. “Bye, Jake.”

“Bye,” he replies softly, eyes earnest.

You turn to go, key in hand. At the door, you pause and glance back. He’s watching you, open, and uncertain giving the smallest wave.

You wave back, then close the door gently behind you.

The cabin is still and cool when you step inside. You close the door gently behind you, like any sudden movement might shatter whatever fragile thing is still lingering in your chest. The storm has quieted to a low rumble in the distance, and your feet leave wet prints across the floor as you move on autopilot, peeling off layers.

Your fingertips brush your collarbone as you tug your shirt over your head and you freeze.

There it is. A faint purplish bloom just beneath your skin, tucked where your neck meets your shoulder. You run your thumb over it, light, like maybe it’ll disappear. But it doesn’t.

Jake.

You stare at it in the mirror above the sink for longer than you mean to. It’s not harsh or obvious, but it’s there. Proof that last night happened. That he kissed you like he meant it. That he didn’t just touch you, he marked you.

Your throat tightens. The shower hisses to life when you finally move. The hot water is a shock at first, but you sink into it, bracing one hand on the tiled wall as steam rises around you. Your mind drifts back uninvited, his mouth at your ear, the low sound of your name on his lips, the weight of him pinning you down and making you feel… wanted. Known. Even though you barely know each other.

You were supposed to come here to get away, to disappear into the quiet. Not end up tangled in a stranger’s bed, heartbeat pressed to his, your soul stirred up like sediment in a glass.

You tip your head back under the stream, eyes closed. You can still feel his phantom hands, how gentle he was after, how he looked at you like you were something soft worth holding onto. And then he let you go. Just like that.

Your lips part as a breath escapes, shaky and wet. You stay there until the water starts to run cold.

When you finally shut it off and step out, the silence hits you again. You towel off slowly, half-dried and standing still in front of the mirror. Your fingers ghost over the bruise again. You trace it without meaning to, like you’re checking if it’s still real.

You wrap yourself in a robe and head back to the desk, determined to sink into the pages of your manuscript. You open the laptop, bring up your draft, and stare at the blinking cursor. The silence around you is so complete it feels deafening.

You type a sentence. Delete it. Try again.

And again.

You exhale and push your hands through your damp hair, trying to think of anything other than the way Jake had sounded just before he came, raw, almost shocked. The way his fingers had threaded between yours. The things he didn’t say, and the things he did.

You flip to a fresh page in your notebook and start outlining scenes instead. Characters. Emotional arcs. Anything to trick your mind into discipline. But all your bullet points blur together into some version of him.

By the time the sun dips behind the trees, you’ve barely written three decent paragraphs.

You make yourself dinner, nothing fancy, just warm enough to count, and light the gas stove for tea, hoping to unwind. The windows are dark now, curtains fluttering slightly in the breeze of the impending storm.

Suddenly there’s a soft creak on your porch. You freeze, mug in hand.

Then, a knock at the door. Light and gentle. You unlock it slowly and pull the door open just enough to peek out but no one’s there.

However, resting at your feet, half-tucked beneath the welcome mat, is a folded scrap of paper. You pick it up carefully and step back inside, heart skipping as you shut the door behind you.

The paper’s worn at the edges, like he had been holding it all day. You unfold it with trembling fingers. His handwriting is slightly messy, like he’d rushed.

I don’t really do this kind of thing. But I couldn’t shake the feeling I’d regret it if I didn’t. – Jake

Beneath his name, a phone number. A thread left hanging in the quiet room.

Your chest goes tight. You run your thumb over the ink, over the way he didn’t push or explain or ask for anything. You set the note on the counter and press your palms flat beside it, letting the moment breathe. The rain outside picks up again, tapping against the windows like a thought trying to come through.

You don’t touch your phone.

Not yet.

But you will.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Taglist: @wetkleenex-gvf @joshym @farfromthehomelands @sacredstarcatcher @britney-gvf @stardustjake @jakesmustache @starshine-wagner @mweasley19 @emsfallingsky @joopsenthusiast @ageofbajabule @ladywhimsymoon @vanfleeter @myleftsock @joshskittytickler @ageoflou @freefallthoughts @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @literal-dead-leaf @welllauragvf @writingcold @bizzielisteningtogreta @neptune2324 @itsafullmoon @violet-hayes @gvfmarge @demonrat444 @mybussyinchrist @cl0ver-j4de @earthgrlsreasy @what-i-read-home-of-reblogs-mama @mama-likes72 @lenagvf @laurngvf @racheljuneeee @farfromthehomelands @cat3rpillarbaby @cassiesgreta @jarmonicasweat@ghostly--photography @josh-iamyour-mama @raviolilegs @gvfmarge @milkgemini @jaketlove @watchingover-hypegirl @ageoflou @cl0ver-j4de @takenbythemadness @lightmyloverry

@flightofseams @torniturntomyarrow @allmylovejtk @m0uthfl13s @klarxtr @styles-canvas @fleet-of-fiction @gretavanbear @builtbybrokenbells @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @jakeyt @starrymoonslut @lightmy-love @edgingthedarkness @gvfmarge @dannys-dream @demonrat444 @jjwasneverhere @fleetingofthegretas @highway-tuna @gretas-sweat @darianh07 @age0fwagner @stardustjake @Catharu77 @milkgemini @watchingover-hypegirl @lightmy-love @twinszka @peaceloveunitygvf @raviolilegs @thetroublegetssoloud71 @sacredthefran @solanjjje @sanguinebats @itsafullmoon @sacredthethreadgvf @gretavanbrie

[wildbluesorbit]

good morning to this painful memory🥲

[asacredthebread]

The Art of Surrender

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

Danny x F!Reader - 18+

𝙷𝚎’𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐.

Warnings/Themes: Sub Danny, Unprotected Sex, Riding, Begging, Soft Danny

wc; 9105

taglist - @musicislove3389 @peaceloveunitygvf @jazzyfigz @sarahbethgvf @fleetingjake

You sat at the kitchen counter, cradling a steaming cup of tea in your hands, the warmth spreading through your fingers and enveloping you in a comforting embrace. The soft glow of the light above cast a gentle radiance around the room, illuminating the well-loved pages of the book that lay open in front of you. Words danced before your eyes like familiar friends, but time had begun to slip away, each sentence drawing you deeper into its comforting narrative. Despite your immersion, you couldn’t shake the thrill of anticipation that thrummed in your chest, building steadily with each tick of the clock.

With each minute that passed, your mind drifted back to Danny, recalling the way he had kissed you goodbye, his voice soft yet filled with an infectious excitement, promising he’d be back before you knew it. Those weeks apart felt elongated, every day stretching as you inhabited the space he’d filled, his laughter, his warmth. The nights had been the hardest, when the absence of his presence loomed large and the silence of the house wrapped around you like a heavy blanket. You remembered the way his energy had always made your home feel alive, each corner bustling with the remnants of laughter and light.

You occasionally glanced up from your book, listening intently to the sounds around the house. The creak of the floorboards, the quiet hum of the refrigerator, and the occasional rustle of the wind against the windows combined into a symphony of solitude. Each sound pulled you deeper into your thoughts, reflecting on how much you missed those spontaneous moments—his quirky dance moves in the kitchen and the way he’d brush his fingers along your arm as he passed by. Little reminders that built a life together, now seemingly distant but still close enough to touch in your mind.

Just as you were lost in a particularly vivid memory of the two of you, you heard it—the unmistakable creak of the front door opening. Your heart quickened, breath catching in your throat, and you looked up with anticipation. There he was, stepping inside, worn yet vibrant, the world outside seemingly melting away as he entered your shared sanctuary.

His long, curly brown hair framed his face, slightly tousled from travel, and the moment his tired brown eyes scanned the room, finding you, a wave of relief washed over him. You couldn’t contain the smile that broke across your face, an instinctual response to the sight of him. Your heart swelled, feeling as if a piece of you, lost in his absence, had finally returned home. His expression mirrored your own, relief flooding his gaze as if he were drinking in the familiar surroundings.

Danny shifted at the threshold, a hand running through his hair in that familiar way, and the warmth in the room surged. You noticed the slight weariness etched on his features, the silent testament to the journey he had just undertaken. But as he took a tentative step forward, that fatigue began to dissipate, overshadowed by the joy that cascaded between you. The darkness of the night outside faded away, leaving just the two of you, cocooned in your own little world.

In that suspended moment, the air sparked with unspoken tension, your eyes locking in a gaze that said more than words ever could. The weight of the distance fell away, dissolving into an energy that once again bound you together. Danny stepped further into the room, absorbing the essence of being back, the quiet safety of home wrapping itself around him like a warm blanket. It felt electric, the shift in the atmosphere, as if the very walls held their breath in anticipation.

You rose from your seat, the book forgotten, and stepped closer. In an instant, the space between you seemed to collapse as you drew him into a warm embrace. His arms circled around you, and you melted into him, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest, anchoring you both in this shared moment. The scent of him—faintly familiar yet tied to all the memories you cherished—washed over you, and you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, the culmination of emotions threatening to spill over.

“Hey,” he murmured into your hair, his voice deep and soothing.

“Hey, you,” you replied softly, pulling back slightly to meet his gaze. The warmth of his smile ignited a spark within you, illuminating the shadows that had lingered during his absence. You could see the joy reflected in his eyes as he took in the sight of you, and you both laughed, the sound echoing in the quiet intimacy of the kitchen.

Everything that had felt fragmented during his time away began to coalesce into clarity. You could feel the pieces fitting back together, a puzzle reassembling itself bit by bit. In this little sanctuary enveloped in the soft glow of the kitchen light, the hum of your life resumed its natural rhythm. You found joy in the mundane things, in the way his fingers brushed against yours as he reached for a bowl, or the way he cracked a joke that made you laugh until you nearly cried.

As the warmth of the evening settled around you like a tender embrace, the comforting glow of the kitchen light cast a soft halo around Danny, illuminating the affection in his deep brown eyes. Each moment felt saturated with a sense of renewal and connection, a rekindling of a bond that had been stretched but never truly broken. You could feel the air between you crackle with a tangible energy, and drawing closer to him felt both natural and exhilarating.

With a mix of mischief and tenderness, you leaned in, your heart pounding in your chest as you pressed your lips to the warm, smooth skin of his neck. The taste of him lingered on your lips, rich and familiar, and you let the heat of the moment envelop you. Each gentle kiss was a thrill, a sublime exploration of longing that had been building for weeks apart. You focused on the way his skin responded to your touch, the way he shivered and leaned into you, a silent admission of how much he missed your closeness.

You could sense the way his body reacted to you—how the tension in his muscles coiled tighter with each gentle caress, and how his breaths grew deeper, more staggered, punctuated by soft gasps that made your heart race. It was intoxicating to witness the effect you were having on him, to feel his need for you rise and pulse in the warm air enveloping you both.

“God,” he murmured, the word slipping from his lips like a breath of prayer, laced with desperation that radiated from him. “You can’t do that to me and expect me not to… to want you.” His voice was deeper than usual, thick with the weight of his unfulfilled craving, and each syllable sent a tremor of excitement coursing through you.

You smiled against his skin, a wicked glint in your eye as you pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. “Do you remember what I told you?” you asked, your voice low and teasing, inviting him into a dance of playful tension. You watched as his eyes darkened with anticipation, silently pleading for clarity.

He nodded slowly, the admission hanging between you like a taut string ready to snap. There was vulnerability in his expression, and you loved how he didn’t shy away from it. “I haven’t touched myself at all,” he confessed, the admission falling from his lips as if he had been holding it back for far too long. “It was hard, but I did it for you.”

Your pulse quickened at his words—there was something so intimate about this confession, so raw. The anticipation that threaded through your veins made it feel like the walls of the kitchen were closing in, the world outside fading away until it was just the two of you, wrapped in a cocoon of desire.

“That’s so good of you,” you praised softly, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper. The power dynamic intrigued you; knowing he had followed your instructions perfectly sent a rush of pleasure through your body. You edged closer once more, letting your lips brush against his neck, leaving soft, delicate kisses along the expanse of skin. Each gentle press felt like an incantation, awakening a yearning that had lain dormant during your weeks apart.

“Do you feel how much I’ve missed you?” you murmured between kisses, reveling in the way his breath hitched—each gasp igniting the fire in your own core. “You’ve been so patient, waiting for me. But now…” Your voice trailed off as you felt his body leaning toward you, a magnetic pull drawing you both closer. The simple act of kissing him felt like unwrapping a gift, layer by layer, revealing the deep layers of intimacy and connection that spiraled between you.

“Now, I want to see just how long you can hold out,” you teased, your breath warm against his ear. The way he shivered in response sent delicious sparks throughout your body, heightening the sense of anticipation that crackled in the dimly lit room. “Can you do that for me? Can you be good and not touch yourself?”

He swallowed, and his eyes darkened further with burgeoning desire—swimming in need and restraint. “I’ll try,” he stammered, but there was a hint of helplessness in his voice, a soft surrender to the moment. You could see the conflict within him; his body yearned for your touch, but you had laid the foundation for this delicate game, and he was willing to play along, to suffer a little longer for the pleasure of what was to come.

Feeling emboldened, you pressed your lips again to his neck, trailing lower, mapping the soft contours of his collarbone while reveling in each sigh that escaped his mouth. Your kisses were deliberate, slow, teasingly moving against his skin, lingering at the sensitive spots you knew drove him wild. You could feel his pulse quicken beneath your lips, a testament to the fire igniting between you.

“Just think about how good it will feel when we finally come together again,” you breathed, letting the words roll off your tongue like honey. You could see him react physically to the teasing promise—his shoulders tensed, and his breathing turned ragged.

You leaned back again, finally allowing your eyes to lock onto his, searching for that all-too-familiar spark of connection. "I want you to remember this feeling, every touch, every kiss, as a reminder of how much I’ve longed for you. Let this fire grow inside you, let it build… and just hold on." The weight of your words enveloped the air between you, thick with possibility and allure.

Danny’s gaze bore into yours, filled with a mix of need and longing that left you breathless. He held your gaze, a silent agreement pulsing between you—two hearts intertwining in the moonlit whisper of the moment, tethered by desire, but also by the tender promise of what was yet to come. You both stood at the brink of something beautiful, teetering on the edge of anticipation, poised to let the night unfurl its magic all around you.

As the moment thickened with unspoken promises and electric anticipation, you gently took Danny’s hand and led him to the couch. The soft fabric welcomed him as he sank into its embrace, his gaze never wavering from you. It was as though the world around you faded, leaving only the intoxicating intimacy of the two of you in this sacred space.

“Stay right there,” you instructed softly, a playful yet authoritative tone threading through your voice. He nodded obediently, anticipation shimmering in his eyes as you took a step back, allowing him to take in the entire breadth of the scene. There was something exhilarating about having him in this position, encouraged to simply watch. You could see the tension coiling in his muscles, a reflection of his eagerness and the sheer desire that swirled between you.

With deliberate slowness, you allowed a smile to creep onto your lips. “Now, I want you to keep your hands by your sides,” you said, layering your voice with a sweetness that only deepened the gravity of your request. The obedient glint in his eyes confirmed he understood, a silent promise passing between you.

Taking a deep breath, you centered yourself, feeling the confidence welling up from within. Step by step, you began to undress, each movement infused with a sense of purpose and awareness. You started with the hem of your shirt, drawing it slowly up your body, exposing your skin to the air and his hungry gaze. The fabric slid past your waist and fluttered to the floor, leaving you in just your bottoms.

You glanced at Danny’s face, eager to capture every nuanced expression that danced across it. His eyes darkened further as they roamed over your form, filled with a blend of desire, admiration, and a hint of disbelief. His breath hitched, and the way his lips parted slightly told you everything you needed to know; he was completely captivated.

Feeling emboldened, you transitioned into the next phase of your unveiling. You took your time, ensuring that every motion was deliberate, drawing out the tension in the air. You could almost see the way his mind raced as you moved—how he imagined what was still to come and the depth of his yearning intensified with each small reveal.

With a teasing tilt of your head, you let your fingers glide along the waistband of your bottoms, pausing for just a beat, savoring the moment. “Are you watching closely?” you asked, your voice dripping with playful challenge. He nodded vigorously, his eyes locked onto yours with a fervent intensity that made your heart race.

You slowly began to peel away the remaining fabric, the sensation of cool air meeting your skin awakening every nerve ending. You watched his expression morph into one of sheer hunger, the heat pooling in his gaze as you revealed more of yourself to him. It felt exhilarating to see how your actions stirred him—how the anticipation rolled off him like heat from a fire, igniting a shared connection that pulsed through the space between you.

As you stepped out of the last piece of clothing, you allowed yourself the moment to pause, holding his gaze as you stood before him, completely unveiled. The vulnerability mingled with power, and you relished the thrill of it. You could see the struggle within him; the sheer will it took for him to keep his hands obediently at his sides. Every muscle in his body seemed taut, ready to spring forth but restrained by your instructions.

“Look at me, Danny,” you breathed, your voice a gentle command that drew his focus back to your face. “What do you see?”

“Everything,” he replied, his voice low and thick with unfiltered longing. “You’re… beautiful.”

The compliment sent a shiver running through you, and you allowed yourself to bask in the warmth of his admiration. Each moment felt suspended in time, painted vividly with the colors of intimacy and desire. You were in control, but both of you were equally vulnerable, entwined in the dance of unspoken emotions that swirled around you.

Encouraged by his reaction, you moved closer, allowing your hands to trail lightly along your own skin, every caress a shared invitation for him to drink in the sight of you. As you did, the tension in the room escalated palpably, a rich tapestry woven from both your hearts beating as one. You could feel him leaning forward ever so slightly, as if he couldn't resist the pull of your essence, that magnetic force keeping him firmly tethered to the moment.

“Keep your eyes on me,” you urged softly, a hint of urgency woven within your words. Each motion was intentional; you wanted him to feel the weight of your presence, to etch every detail into his memory. You danced your fingers along your collarbone, letting them drift down your sides, showcasing every curve. When you caught his gaze shifting, eager to drink in every bit of you, you felt a surge of satisfaction.

“Good,” you murmured, watching him swallow, every fiber in his being focused on you, carefully observing, desperately wishing for more. His quiet longing acted like a spark, igniting the flames of your own desire—a delicious, heady warmth that spread through your body, leaving you aching for closer contact, yet fully aware of the power of this moment.

“Can you feel how much we’ve both missed this?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. The question hovered in the air, turning the silence into something tangible, something that hung between you like a sweet tension—ripe and waiting to be broken. The vulnerability shared in that moment was palpable, creating a bond that felt more intimate than skin-deep, interlacing your souls in the quiet solace of your surroundings.

With that, you let your hands fall to your sides, your expression softening as you gazed at him, letting the moment linger in the air, a luxurious pause before whatever came next. You knew you had drawn him to a precipice of yearning, and he waited—breathless and desperate—for the next chapter to unfold. And in that instant, you could feel the world fade away, leaving only the two of you as you held your breath, poised on the brink of an exquisite adventure yet to come.

The charged atmosphere enveloped you both as you slowly moved closer to him, your heart racing in rhythm with the pulsating energy that hung thick in the air. A silent understanding passed between you, and you could see the raw desire igniting in Danny's eyes as you approached the edge of the couch.

With a deliberate, enticing smile, you gently lowered yourself onto his lap, feeling the warmth radiate from his body beneath you. The moment you settled on him, a wave of heat washed over you, a delicious melding of body and spirit that made everything else fade away. You planted your knees on either side of him, positioning yourself just right, feeling how perfectly your forms connected.

And then, you began to move. Slowly at first, rolling your hips against his with a rhythm that felt as natural and instinctive as breathing. The sensation sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body, igniting a fire deep within. You relished the way his eyes widened, the way his breath caught as he absorbed the sight and feel of you moving above him. Each gentle grind was a sultry invitation, weaving a spell that drew you both deeper into the moment.

With every undulation, you pressed into him, teasingly building tension as you let your kisses trail along his jawline. You started at the base of his neck, planting soft, lingering kisses that trailed upwards, celebrating the contours of his chin and the warmth of his skin. As you worked your way up toward his earlobe, you could feel his breath hitch, a stuttered sound that only fueled your desire to continue this wicked dance.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice heavy with awe and longing, a gentle tug at the edges of your heart. Your response was a gentle kiss along his neck, savoring the taste of him, feeding off the way his body responded so eagerly to your touch.

You maintained your rhythm, a slow grind that made the world outside your intimate bubble recede even further. You wanted to be intently aware of his reactions, of the way his body tensed beneath you, muscles shifting as he fought to control himself. You wanted him to feel every shift of your movements, every kiss upon his skin, to drown in the depths of this connection you were forging together.

But then, as you leaned in for a particularly teasing sweep of your lips against his neck, you felt Danny’s hands start to drift. His fingers grazed your waist, a subconscious movement fueled by the longing that surged through him. It was an instinctive reaction, a reflection of the need to pull you closer, to frame this exquisite closeness with the touch of his hands.

In a swift yet gentle motion, you caught his wrist before he could rest his hands on your body, holding it steady at his side. The shift in energy was palpable, accentuating the sweetness of your game. “Ah, ah,” you scolded softly, a playful tone lacing your words. “I told you to keep your hands by your sides.”

His gaze flickered with a mixture of disappointment and disbelief, but he complied without hesitation, clenching his jaw as if trying to hold back the urge to wrap his arms around you. The tension between you escalated, becoming electric, heightened by the small act of restraint. His open vulnerability made your heart race even faster, and you couldn’t help but lean closer, pressing your body into his as an added reminder of your presence.

“Good boy,” you encouraged him, your voice barely above a whisper, laced with a teasing edge that made his eyes gleam with renewed desire. “I want you to watch—this is just for you.” The words slipped from your lips, sweet and sultry, igniting a spark of possessiveness in the atmosphere between you.

As you resumed your movement, you increased the pressure of your grinding, feeling the heat radiate between the two of you. You maintained eye contact, savoring the flush that crept along his cheeks, the way his brows furrowed in concentration. Each movement drew moans from him, his breath racing faster as he struggled to contain the storm of sensations swirling within.

The atmosphere crackled with the anticipation of exploration, and you leaned in closer, letting your lips explore the curve of his jaw, trailing soft kisses and playful bites along the way. His scent enveloped you—an intoxicating blend of warmth and earthiness that sent shivers racing down your spine. You wanted more; you craved the deep, intimate connection that lay just below the surface of your playful game.

With each thrust of your hips, you inched closer to pleasure, the friction between you both stirring a wild fire in your core. His breathing quickened, matching the rhythm of your movements, the way he longed to touch you evident in the tension of his body. You delighted in his struggle, every sound he released, and every flare of heat in his gaze as you held him captive in this moment.

“Feel that?” you whispered, your breath warm against his ear as you leaned closer, sending a shiver through him. “Feel how much I want you? How much you want me?” Your words turned into a gentle challenge, digging deeper into the charged atmosphere enveloping you both.

His eyelashes fluttered, and he pressed his lips together, fighting the impulse to let his hands roam. The mere idea that he had to supress that desire was a delicious turn-on for you both. You could feel the tension build—a silent plea—and it drove you to grind your hips against him with even more urgency, each roll coaxing a low groan from his lips.

“Just stay with me, Danny,” you urged, your voice sultry and soft. “Keep your hands where they belong, and let me show you just how good this can feel.” The words were a promise, dripping with seduction, and as you continued to tease him, your kisses along his neck and jawline interspersed with whispers of heated encouragement, you knew this moment was only the beginning of a much deeper exploration.

Time seemed to stretch around you as you savored each sensation, each breath, each sound. The world outside melted into oblivion; it was just the two of you, caught in this luscious cocoon of desire, where every movement ignited the flames of longing and yearning. You leaned into this beautiful, intimate moment, the anticipation of what was to come stirring within both of you like a rising tide, holding the beauty and vulnerability of this connection close to your hearts. As you continued to grind against him, the intoxicating sensations flooded through Danny's body, pulling him further into a haze of desire and submission. The tension in the air was palpable, thickening with every teasing movement and whispered promise. You reveled in the way he surrendered to the moment, his vulnerability enhancing the connection between you.

With each roll of your hips, you felt him melt beneath you, his breath hitching as you moved with intoxicating rhythm. His head fell back against the couch, giving you access to the expanse of his neck, a vulnerable canvas waiting for the imprint of your desire. You leaned in, your lips brushing against his skin softly at first, testing the waters, gauging his reactions.

As your lips traveled along his neck, you began to let your kisses deepen, turning gentle pecks into playful bites. You watched hungrily as the blush of heat spread across his cheeks, a vivid contrast to his usual calm demeanor. Each mark you left felt like a claim, a possessive reminder of the beauty of this intimate moment. You took your time, savoring the sound of his breath hitching as you nibbled on the sensitive skin, tasting the saltiness of his excitement.

“Please… don’t stop,” he whimpered, the plea spilling from his lips in a throaty whisper, both desperate and filled with longing. Each sound he made resonated deep within you, weaving a spell that captivated your senses as surely as your actions captivated him. You could see the battle within him—the craving for closeness, the need to touch and hold you, shadowed by the reminder of your control over the situation.

“Patience, Danny,” you murmured against his skin, sending vibrations of warmth fluttering through him. “You’ve got to remember your place.” The slight scolding in your tone was playful yet firm, drawing out more whines of frustration from him. The contrast between the pleasure you gave him and the denial of touch only deepened his submission, leaving him utterly at your mercy.

You left your mark, suckling and kissing along the length of his neck, relishing in the soft gasps that escaped his lips. Each time you pulled your lips away, you revealed a new hickey, a rosy reminder of how completely he surrendered to you. You adored the sight of him—his eyes fluttering closed, mouth slightly parted, lost in the sensory overload you had created.

His moans grew louder, more desperate, each sound weaving a rich tapestry of need that enveloped you both. “I can’t… I can’t help it,” he gasped, fighting against the constraints you had placed upon him. The way his body curled toward you, straining against the invisible boundaries, was intoxicating. You were his world in that moment, and the heat radiating off him told you everything you needed to know about the depth of his submission.

“You’re doing so well,” you encouraged, your voice low and sultry. You met his gaze, and the intensity of his desire mirrored yours. “But remember, no touching. Just let me take care of you.” With confidence, you pressed another soft bite to the place just below his ear, and a shudder raced through his body, a physical testament to the control you had over his pleasure.

Danny’s submission was a sweet nectar, intoxicating in its purity. The way he let go of all hesitations, the way he surrendered completely to your ministrations, was a power unlike any you had known. You edged deeper into the exploration of his limits, more comfortable with the knowledge that he was becoming increasingly pliable beneath you.

The hickeys you left were like painted strokes on his canvas, a beautiful display of your shared intimacy. The skin beneath your lips bloomed warmly under your touch, and the more you marked him, the more visible evidence of your connection remained. He was no longer just Danny; he was yours, a willingly vulnerable creation molded by your hands and desires.

“Please,” he whimpered again, the sound threading through the air like a fragile thread connecting your worlds. “I want to touch you so badly.” His voice was strained, raw with yearning, and it sent shivers cascading through you. You could feel the pull of his desire, his desperate wish to claim some part of you as you were claiming him.

You responded tenderly, peppering another kiss along his neck, punctuating your movements with a teasing flick of your tongue. “I know, sweetheart,” you whispered, your words caressing his skin and echoing in his ears. “But you have to learn patience. It’ll only make it better when I finally let you.” There was a certain deliciousness in prolonging the anticipation, in drawing this moment out to its fullest extent.

With each kiss, you could see him growing more and more vulnerable, slipping deeper into the warm embrace of submission. The weight of the world faded, and the only thing that remained was the shared intimacy that flowed between you. He surrendered completely, letting go of all resistance, allowing himself to be lost in the pleasure you wove around him.

As you continued to leave your mark upon him, you found your own pleasure rising as well, an echo of the desperation he felt. The connection was potent and primal, and with every kiss, every bite, you layered on the intimacy, carving out a space where nothing else mattered. The deliciousness of the moment enveloped both of you, creating a sweet sanctuary hinged on trust, longing, and an unspoken promise of more to come.

“Just breathe for me,” you murmured softly, tracing your fingertips along the lines of his jaw, watching as he closed his eyes to escape into the sensations you created. You watched him, an exquisite masterpiece of longing bruised and softened by your touch, and in that moment, you knew you would savor every second as you danced together along the bounds of desire and submission.

In that gentle rhythm, you continued to kiss, to mark, to explore, fully aware of the power you held in your hands as he remained open and willing—an offering of his own free will. The delicious tension between pleasure and restraint sent ripples of excitement coursing through your veins, and you lost yourself in the dance, both of you teetering on the edge of ecstasy, bound by the intoxicating allure of what awaited in the depths of your connection.

The atmosphere pulsed with an electric charge, a heady mix of desire and anticipation that enveloped both of you, closing out the world outside. Danny’s breaths were quick and uneven, every ragged sigh echoing the depth of longing that had built between you over the last few moments. You could see the desperation in his eyes, reflecting the restraint you held over him—a tantalizing cocktail of authority and intimacy that made your pulse race.

Your movements grew more deliberate, teasingly slow as you felt the heat radiate from his body beneath you. “You want more, don’t you?” you asked softly, delighting in the way his gaze flickered with yearning. As you shifted your weight, you couldn’t help but lean closer, offering him the promise of fulfillment, the tantalizing prospect of crossing that final boundary.

With a sultry smile, you let your fingers trail down his abdomen, feeling the taut muscles beneath your touch. You paused just above the waistband of his jeans, savoring the way his body responded to every deliberate caress. “Let’s see just how much you’ve been waiting for this.”

As you expertly unzipped his jeans, the soft click of the zipper felt like a thousand silent promises whispered inside a crowded room. Parting the fabric slowly, you could already see the evidence of his desire—a pulse of excitement that quickened your own heartbeat. You watched as his face filled with anticipation, and you couldn’t resist the urge to tease him just a little longer.

With deliberate slowness, you pushed his jeans down just enough to expose him fully, a breathless moment where you both lingered, hearts racing. Taking the opportunity to gaze at the sight before you, your breath hitched at the intensity of it all. He was completely bare and vulnerable, and the sight only intensified your need for him.

“Please,” he croaked out, desperation lacing his voice as he shifted beneath you. “Let me touch you. I need to feel you.” There was a pleading note in his tone, one that ignited a spark of desire deep within your core. You loved the way he was unraveling beneath your touch, the way the sweet need for you flowed from his words like molten honey.

“Soon,” you whispered, your voice laced with a teasing promise. You perched higher on his lap, your body trembling with anticipation as you aligned yourself above him. “First, I want to feel you inside me.” You watched the instant spark of lust ignite in his eyes, the way his body instinctively tensed, ready and waiting for you to take that sweet plunge.

With a gentle push, you lowered yourself onto him, the sensation exquisite as you enveloped him in your warmth. The world melted away, leaving only the two of you and the intoxicating feeling of connection that surged deeply between your bodies. A low, primal groan escaped from him, an involuntary sound that echoed the pleasure blooming between you.

You paused for a moment, savoring the intoxicating feeling of him filling you, allowing yourself to get lost in the sensation—every inch of him igniting a wildfire of desire that spread through your body like an electric current. Your breath mingled with his, creating a sweet symphony of longing as you adjusted, letting the moment wash over you completely.

Then, without hesitation, you began to move, riding him slowly, deliberately. Each movement sent ripples of pleasure coursing through both of you, drawing out soft gasps and whimpers as you lost yourselves in the rhythm you created together. The sensation of him sliding within you was overwhelming, a heady mix of fullness and indescribable ecstasy that filled the space between you.

“Oh my God,” Danny breathed out, voice strained yet awash with a serene pleasure, “This feels so amazing.” You could see him struggling against the understanding of your earlier boundary, his hands twitching at his sides, longing to touch you—to trail his fingers along your skin, to feel the warmth radiate from your body.

“Please, I need to touch you,” he begged again, urgency coloring his every word, and the straining hope in his tone only made you want to tempt him further. You knew that the denial of that instinct, that sweet yearning, only fueled both of you. It was a dance of patience and unrestrained pleasure, and you intended to linger in this moment, letting him writhe in the tension of it all.

“Just a little longer,” you encouraged softly, entranced by his need for you. Each downward motion intensified the connection you shared, a magnetic pull that blurred the lines of your separate desires. “I want you to feel every second of this. The sweetness of anticipation is part of the pleasure.”

Your movements remained slow and tantalizing, drawing him deeper into the intoxicating ache of submission that you cultivated. The way his eyes brimmed with need only ignited your own hunger, and you wanted to keep that fire ablaze, to draw it out as long as possible.

As you rolled your hips, taking him deeper, the sounds that escaped from him grew more urgent—soft pleas and little whimpers flooding the air like music. The tension of restraint painted his features, so expressive and vulnerable, and you longed to touch him as much as he longed to touch you.

“Danny,” you breathed, leaning in closer, letting your body press against his, the intimacy of your closeness sending tremors through both of you. “Just feel this with me. Let it wash over you.” You cherished the way he strained to hold onto the moment, the way his body reacted to every flick of your hips, sending him spiraling deeper into pleasure.

“God, you’re driving me crazy,” he managed, and the confession ignited a thrill within you. The way he was losing himself in each motion was exhilarating, a reminder of the power your connection held. You loved that he felt this way—so exposed, so vulnerable, and yet so utterly captured by you.

“Let go, Danny.” The words were barely above a whisper, a mere suggestion hanging between you as you continued to ride him, and it seemed to strike a deep chord within him. He shifted beneath you, his breath hitching once again as your words encircled him like a coil, tugging him closer to that edge.

“Just let me touch you,” he pleaded one more time, the urgency climbing higher in his tone, and you could feel your own desire cresting painfully inside you. His restraint was a beautiful paradox—a magnetic force drawing you closer together as much as the pleasure itself.

“Soon, I promise,” you assured, giving his cheek a soft caress as you maintained your slow, deliberate movements. Each rise and fall felt exhilarating, connecting everything in that moment. In the dance of submission and desire, you found the harmony of exploration, deeply entwined in each other’s worlds.

The rhythm escalated, leaning toward a crescendo, yet you held back, savoring the taste of every glide, every kiss, and every tremor shared between your bodies. You could sense the abyss of ecstasy swirling just beyond your reach and hungered to dive in together, twined in a shared bliss that echoed with a deeper sense of connection than you had ever known.

“Just a little longer,” you whispered, your voice melting into the air, becoming part of the moment, the promise of what was to come flickering like a candle’s flame in the passion that consumed you both. Every second stretched, thickening the air with longing, and the delicious patience was intoxicating in its own right. You wanted this moment to last forever, to revel in the sweet lull of desire before the inevitable storm of release unfolded before you. The air between you crackled with anticipation, a silent promise hanging in the charged atmosphere that enveloped you both. Each slow roll of your hips was a tantalizing tease, every moment stretching into an eternity filled with pleasure and restraint. Danny's desperate pleas echoed in your mind, igniting a fire of longing and desire within you that was almost overwhelming.

With every flicker of his gaze, you felt the weight of his yearning, the need for touch that lay just beneath the surface, begging to be released. You could see the conflict dancing in his eyes—a battle between submission and the overwhelming desire to pull you closer, to connect in a way that transcended words. You knew it was time, time to let the boundaries dissolve completely, to allow him the freedom to touch you, to explore this connection fully.

“Okay,” you breathed, your voice tender and laced with excitement. “You can touch me now.” The words hung in the air between you, and in the instant they left your lips, the shift was palpable. You watched as his expression transformed, urgency sparking within him as he processed your permission.

In an instant, his hands shot up, finding their place on your hips, fingers curling possessively around you, pulling you closer in a desperate motion. The moment his warm hands made contact, a delightful shiver raced down your spine, igniting a rush of heat that pooled deep within you. There was something exquisitely thrilling about the way he enveloped you, how your bodies pressed together, merging into one rhythm, one heartbeat.

“God, yes,” he breathed, his voice thick with longing as he guided your movements. The urgency in his grip intensified, and you indulged in the sensation of his hands traveling across your skin, exploring the curves of your body, finding solace in your shared connection. You had relinquished control, and now he grasped the opportunity with fervor, his fingers exploring your waist, your hips, memorizing the outline of you beneath his touch.

Every pull and push of your bodies together sent waves of ecstasy ricocheting through you both, intertwining desire and intimacy like a beautifully woven tapestry. As he pulled you deeper against him, you felt every inch of him pressing into you, the heat radiating from where your bodies met sparking a scorching fire. You could sense his need pouring out of him, raw and unfiltered, and it fueled your own desires, taking you higher with each tender touch.

“Is this okay?” he asked breathlessly, his gaze burning into yours, filled with a mix of hunger and reverence. His fingers dug gently into your skin, as if he were afraid to break the fragile spell of the moment. You nodded, unable to form words as you felt the pull of his intentions, the need to savor every second of this revelation.

“Just like that,” you urged softly, encouraging him to explore, to let his instincts guide him as your bodies flowed together. His hands became your anchor, grounding you in the shared sensation of pleasure as they traversed the landscape of your hips, moving around to the small of your back, fingers tracing the outline of your figure, pulling you closer still.

“You feel so good,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp that sent shivers cascading through you. The desperation in his tone ignited something primal within you, an undeniable connection that deepened with every insistence of his hands, every intoxicating caress. You were both lost in the rhythm of exploration, the slow ascent to the heights of ecstasy.

Encouraged by your signals, he began to guide your movements with more confidence, rolling his hips up into you, matching the cadence of your rhythm. The tension mounted between you as he drew you in closer, the world around you fading into a blur of warmth and sensation. Each thrust was electric, sending jolts of pleasure spiraling through your core, forcing you to gasp and moan, releasing sounds of pure bliss into the air.

His fingers continued to explore, trailing across your skin with a gentle urgency, every brush feeling like a star igniting against the night sky. He pulled you tighter against him, and you could feel his heartbeat quickening, the way his body responded to yours, instinctively yearning to lose itself in the ecstasy you created together. Each movement brought a deep sense of intimacy, a shared understanding that transcended any previous boundaries.

“Please,” he breathed again, that burning need coloring his voice, “I want to feel you more.” The plea slipped from his lips like a mantra, igniting something wild within you. You could sense the desire bubbling just beneath the surface, an eager need that threatened to overflow.

“Then feel me,” you whispered, a hint of encouragement giving rise to that blaze of urgency in his eyes. “I want you to take this.” With those words, you allowed him to guide not just your movements, but your connection, trusting him to navigate the depths of this intimate moment while still relishing the taste of vulnerability.

His hands found their way to your thighs, pushing them apart slightly, encouraging you to settle into a rhythm that was intoxicatingly slow yet electric. The heat pooling where you connected intensified with every deliberate motion, and you could feel the pull of pleasure rising within you like a tide. The sounds escaping your lips were primal, each gasp and moan echoing the sweet urgency that hung thick in the air.

“I—” he began again, every word tumbling out in a rush, barely masking the heat of his desire. “I want to dive deeper with you.” There was a fierce need reflected in his eyes, a sincerity that made your heart race faster, making you ache to take the plunge alongside him.

The way he pulled you closer, the way his hands explored, made you want to lose yourself completely in the moment. It was exhilarating to feel him falling deeper into this connection, his touch becoming more sure, more desperate, fanning flames that had been kindled since your first kiss.

With every thrust of your bodies, you felt an exquisite harmony forming, every second stretching out into an eternity of shared bliss. The boundaries of your desires began to blur, intertwining as the urgency of your connection demanded to be fed, nourished by the taste of one another.

As his fingers journeyed back up to your waist, you could feel his strength, the way he cherished you—it pushed you even higher into the quest for connection. The sensation of his fingers digging lightly into your hips only intensified the urgency within you, merging the lines between pleasure and urgency into one intoxicating experience.

“Don’t stop,” you breathed, urging him on as a ripple of anticipation coursed through your body. The way he responded to your encouragement fueled the flames burning between you both, a primal dance of exploration that threatened to consume you whole. The sweet agony of your joined movements melded into a symphony of desire, every touch igniting more heat, entwining your souls in the elegance of each heartbeat.

Danny’s grip tightened around your waist, guiding your motions as he pushed you closer to him, losing himself in the shared rhythm that surged through both of you. This was a moment of pure adoration, a tapestry woven with threads of trust, intimacy, and longing, and you never wanted it to end.

In that dance of desperation and desire, you felt yourself spiraling closer to the precipice. With every heartbeat, every gasp, it became clearer just how far you had both come in willingly surrendering to this exquisite connection—as if time itself had slowed, devoting an eternity to simply exploring one another’s bodies, heart, and soul. And you knew you would ride this wave of ecstasy together, savoring every moment as you both continued to dive deeper into the bliss waiting just beyond the horizon.

The rhythm of your bodies crescendoed, weaving a tapestry of raw intimacy and shared pleasure that enveloped you both completely. Each push and pull tugged at the very fabric of your connection, driving you both closer to the edge, where euphoria awaited. As the heat mounted, the intensity of the moment took hold, intensifying every sound, every sigh, and every gasp that escaped your lips and echoed within the intimate space you created.

With every movement, you felt the world around you fading away, leaving only the two of you lost in this profound connection. The buildup within you tightened, coiling like a spring ready to unfurl, and you surrendered to the waves of ecstasy that washed over you, carrying you to heights you had yearned for. The sensations overwhelmed your senses, igniting a fire in every nerve ending.

Danny’s hands, ever steady on your hips, guided you as he thrust deeper, the delicious friction sending jolts of pleasure surging through you. You could see the flicker of determination and desire in his eyes, the embodiment of every plea, every whisper that had brought you to this moment. Each gasp that tumbled from his lips only spurred you on, their urgency urging both of you to give in to the sweet surrender that beckoned.

“Oh, yes,” you breathed, the words spilling out in a rush as the tension built higher within you. “Just like that, Danny. You’re doing so well.” The praise spilled from your lips without thought, and the warmth in his gaze told you just how much those words meant to him. They were a balm to his desire, a reward for his submission—a validation that fired up the longing in you, too.

“Please don’t stop,” he implored, his voice barely more than a whisper, thick with desire and the sweetness of vulnerability. Your heart swelled at his plea; the way his composure slipped and gave way to raw, yearning need deepened your desire. You moved together in a beautifully synchronized dance of bodies, surrendering to the rhythm of passion as if it were an art form being painted by the gentle strokes of your movements.

The crescendo approached, the delicious tension building, and you felt yourself spiraling into that exquisite abyss of release. “I’m so close, Danny,” you gasped, feeling the overwhelming waves of pleasure crashing against you as you neared the peak of that euphoric mountain. “Feel me. Feel how much I want this.”

“Me too,” he breathed, eyes wide with an intensity that made your heart race. “I want you more than anything.”

And with the final thrust, everything shattered into a brilliant cascade of sensation. You succumbed to the blissful tide, ripping through you like lightning as waves of pleasure washed over, pulling you both under in the most euphoric embrace. The world exploded into a kaleidoscope of colors and sensations, and it felt as though time itself stood still while you cascaded together into the depths of shared ecstasy.

For those moments suspended in time, you were lost to everything but each other, intertwined in a glorious dance of passion that felt both timeless and achingly ephemeral. Each pulse of pleasure resonated deeply within you, a symphony of sensations that harmonized with the depth of your connection, binding you closer together even as you both surrendered to the bliss.

As the waves receded, you found yourself drifting back down, the euphoric high giving way to a blissful haze. You remained entwined, feeling the heaviness of your bodies melded together, both utterly spent yet exhilarated by the experience you had just shared. The beautiful afterglow settled around you like a soft blanket, cocooning you both in warmth and satiation.

With a tender smile, you brushed a few stray strands of hair from Danny's forehead, your heart swelling with love and satisfaction. Finally, you found your voice, soft yet filled with admiration. “Danny, you were incredible,” you praised, your tone filled with the sincerity that pulsed in your heart. “You were so well behaved for me.”

His eyes flickered with a mix of pride and exhaustion, a contented smile playing at the corners of his lips as he reveled in your words. The adoration in your gaze made him even more pliant, the satisfaction coursing through him amplifying the desire to please you in every way possible.

“I missed you so much,” you continued, each word a sweet caress that lingered in the air between you. “Every moment we were apart felt like an eternity, and I was counting down the seconds until I could have you like this again.”

His expression softened, vulnerability painting his features. “I missed you, too. You drive me crazy in the best ways.” He chuckled lightly, the sound warm and reverberating in the quiet space around you. But deep down, you could sense his submissive side shining through even brighter now—the part of him that wanted nothing more than to cater to your needs, to bask in the warmth of your approval.

“Do you know how much I love you?” you whispered, letting the words hang in the air for a moment, letting them settle deeply in his heart. The impact was immediate, and you watched as his skin flushed with a beautiful warmth, a shy smile breaking across his face as he soaked in the affection you showered upon him.

“I love you,” he replied softly, the sincerity in his voice wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. “More than I could ever say.” The words carried a weight that resonated deep within you—symbols of your bond, tangible and heartfelt, solidifying the connection that had drawn you together time and again.

You tightened your hold around him, savoring the moment, basking in the glow of your shared intimacy. “You deserve to know how well you did for me today. I’m so proud of you.” Your voice was a gentle murmur, sweet as honey, but your words held a gravity that pressed against the very edges of his heart. They caressed him like a balm, soothing the remnants of vulnerability laid bare in your presence.

He leaned into you, nuzzling against your shoulder, a smile on his face that revealed both satisfaction and contentment. The way his body relaxed against you said so much, as if he were finally letting go of all the reservations that had plagued him before. “I just want to make you happy,” he sighed, the weight of his words settling into the space between your bodies like a promise.

“You are making me happy,” you reassured him, your voice steady and full of warmth. You knew deep down that this was the essence of your connection—the ability to bare your souls to one another, to explore the depths of emotional and physical submission, to let love flow unfettered between your hearts.

As he nestled closer, you could feel him growing heavier against you, exhaustion settling in his bones. The satisfaction radiating from his body was palpable, a blend of vulnerability and sweetness that tugged at your heartstrings. It was a heady feeling, knowing that he had submitted to you so fully, that he had surrendered himself to the experience you crafted together.

In that quiet, tender moment, as he drifted into a gentle repose, you kept your fingers tracing little patterns against his skin, whispering soft words of devotion, letting him know how cherished he truly was. “You’re safe with me, Danny. Always remember that.” Each syllable was drenched in affection, echoing the depths of your feelings that only deepened with every shared heartbeat.

His eyelids fluttered slightly, a blissful smile lingering at the corners of his lips as he melded deeper into your embrace, exhaustion giving way to tranquility. You could see it—the way he relished the satisfaction of the moment, the embodiment of submission to your heart that made everything feel complete.

And as you held him like that, with the world falling quiet around you, you knew that this bond—this connection you shared—was something deeply special, something that transcended the physical plane. It was a beautiful intertwining of souls, a serene dance of love that promised the sweetness of forever. You reveled in the knowledge that each moment together would only serve to strengthen the ties that bound you as individuals who belonged together.

In that deep, affectionate silence, you both drifted further into relaxation, secure in the warmth of one another’s bodies, minds, and hearts—a perfect lullaby of love, connection, and harmony.

[builtbybrokenbells]

Sharpshooter | DRW

Be careful what you bet for.

Pairing: Daniel Wagner x f!reader

Word count: 20k

Warnings: SMUT 18+ (minors dni), unprotected sex, fingering (f!receiving), oral (f!receiving), teasing, name calling, biting, praise, multiple orgasm, simultaneous orgasm, hair pulling, a criminal amount of flirting, drinking, swearing, gambling, parent loss, poverty?, sorry if I miss any!

Well hello. It sure has been a while, hasn’t it? This is a surprise to probably everyone, but here we are. I was going through my old drafts, because I miss you all so very terribly, and I stumbled across this one, which happened to be completely finished and waiting for some attention. I figured what the hell—why leave it hidden when you wonderful people could get some entertainment out of it. Inspired by bandanny (our fav), and some crazy events that occurred what seemed like a lifetime ago, my brain couldn’t help but make a story, ‘cause that’s just what writers do. Anyway. I love and miss you all so much, and I hope you enjoy. As always, be kind, enjoy, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes (barely edited) 🫶🏻

and of course, a huge thank you to @jakeyt, just for being you. i have no idea where i would be without you. i love you so very much, american me 🫶🏻

Disclaimer: this is fiction, not real, and not based on ANY actual events. this also is not me coming back, even though I do miss you all so much, but just because I found a fully finished fic I never got around to publishing, thanks to life’s constant craziness. I love you all very much, and I am still kickin’ around for anyone who wants to chat 🫶🏻

“You’re sure you don’t want to tap out?” The voice over your shoulder barely phased you, your eyes focused on the pool cue so delicately aimed at a solid ball and never wavering as your opponent made their shot.

“Tap out?” You laughed, the sound a bit more condescending than you intended. “Baby, I’m just getting started.” You felt a smirk tug at the corner of your lips as the green ball rolled so closely to the corner pocket, but ultimately tapped against the side and fell off course.

“This is a lot of money on the line… like a lot.” Your friend warned, sounding nervous as she gazed over your shoulder at the table. You were in the lead, only two striped balls left before the 8-ball, but the man you were up against wasn’t far behind. If he’d knocked the green ball in, you would be neck and neck. “If you back out now, you can both walk away with the same amount.”

“Maybe the same amount of money, but definitely not the same amount of pride.” You explained, taking a slow step towards the table, lining yourself up with the cue ball. “Besides, this is the longest streak yet, and I’m not about to give it up because I’m scared.” You continued, leaning down just enough to line your cue up with the blue striped ball.

Your eyes flickered across the green, your head cocked to the side ever so slightly as you tried your best to picture the shot in your mind. If you hit it at just the right angle, you could knock it into the striped burgundy ball and get them both in corner pockets. It was risky, but with such a tight race, risk was your only option. You lowered your top half down a little further, your stomach grazing the wooden trim on the table. The cool surface sent a shock to your skin even through the thin material of your dress, but you did not let it deter you.

You swallowed hard, keeping your hands steady and your goal at the front of your mind. You let out a long breath, the warm air rushing past the gloss shining your lips and calming your nerves. You’d done this before, and you could do it again. You continued to repeat that in your head as you scanned over the table one last time, making sure nothing was out of place. When you were confident you were in the right position, your gaze flickered to meet the eyes of your opponent. His blazing blue stare was meant to intimidate you, but it only seemed to motivate you further.

“15 in left corner pocket.” You called your shot, holding his eyes as you let him digest the words. “14 in right corner pocket.”

Quickly looking back down at the cue ball, you drew your arm back halfway, then lurched it forward with a fair amount of force. It rolled forward, striking the striped green ball and causing it to barrel ahead and slam into the striped burgundy ball. The speed that transferred to the third ball caused it to sink straight into the left pocket with no resistance. Feeling a slight pressure in your chest, you focused on the green ball, still rolling but much slower. You held your breath, afraid you misjudged your ability for a fleeting moment in time. It was rolling so slowly you began to lose all hope of it making it to the target.

The growing crowd around you seemed to be on the edge of their seats, watching intently and not daring to move or speak a word. Your stomach twisted and turned, your palms clammy as the green ball slowed even further, just inches away from the pocket you so desperately needed it to reach.

“Come on.” You whispered, your jaw hard set as you stared it down. You didn’t move, still in the position you held when you made the shot. The wooden cue was resting on the table and your hands were clamped tightly around it, your grip nearly strong enough to break it.

Then, a round of gasps sounded from the crowd, followed by a clinking noise of two balls hitting together inside of the pocket. The green striped ball disappeared completely, and the cocky smile returned to your lips. Raising an eyebrow, you looked to your best friend, tapping her heeled foot against the floor in anticipation. She shook her head, a ghost of a laugh on her lips as she bowed her head to you. Both of you knew there was no need to doubt your ability, but her anxiety seemed to get the best of her.

You straightened up, tapping the handle of your cue against the floor as you stepped back from the table. You lined up your next shot, but decided to take the piss out of him before you won. You aimed for the eight ball, knocking it very carefully in front of his purple ball and making it near impossible for him to sink that one without hitting the eight ball to a better position. If you were going to win, you wanted him to guide you to it, just to teach him a lesson about being so foolish with his money. The smile on your face was infuriating to the man across the table, and his doubt of his own talent was clear in his expression. Even if you all knew he would lose, you had to admire his dedication.

“Good shot.” Your best friend gave your arm a squeeze as you walked within reach, a soft smile on her face as her hopefulness was restored.

“Aren’t I always?” You grinned, trying your best not to let anyone see that you had even a sliver of doubt about yourself.

“You’re too cocky for your own good.” She whispered, leaning back against the pool table behind her as she watched your opponent slowly aim his next shot.

“Just cocky enough, Iz.” You corrected, taking the same lax position as your counterpart. “Look where it got us.”

You motioned one hand around the room, your eyes drifting over the amassed patrons of the bar, all gathered round just to watch you win yet another game. Many men had their hands resting on their wallets in their pockets, wondering if they should take their own chances on a game with you or save the trouble. You knew that the longer your opponent put up a fight, the more likely people would be to challenge you, making them think they had a chance to beat you. It was all part of the strategy, letting people get ahead to make others think they had a chance, until you got down to the very last balls and the heat was turned up.

This was a regular Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and sometimes even Sunday night routine for you. Dressed to the nines, you and your best friend would walk to your favorite bar where you would take post at the same pool table and await a new challenge. A long time ago, when you first started this specific routine, it was only ever for fun. Never once did you expect it to snowball into what it was now, but as the months dragged on and turned into years, you realized just how much money you could make off the poor insecure men who frequented the establishment.

You had a talent, and they had a superiority complex, unable to believe that a young woman could beat them at a game they had been playing since they turned eighteen. It wasn’t your fault that you could capitalize off their stupidity, nor would someone else in your shoes turn down the offer. If they were willing to throw away hundreds of dollars for a chance at bragging rights, you would take the opportunity every single time.

“Besides, it’s their fault for being so cocky when they shouldn’t be. Nothing wrong with being proud of your own talent.”

“S’pose you’re right.” She let out a breathy chuckle, still not fully reassured but unwilling to argue with you. Most of your success was accredited to her lack of fight, hesitant about your crazy ideas but fully supportive of the person she loved most.

Izzy, your best friend in the entire world, also served as your biggest supporter. From the very beginning, even when money wasn’t a factor, she sat on a stool and watched you play all night just to pass the time, never interested in picking up a cue and content to keep you company. When there was nothing in life to be excited about, the two of you worked hard for a long time to find something to look forward to, and it just so happened to be in a little dive bar just off of Main Street. More specifically, at a pool table in the very back corner of the building, which seemed to offer the two of you far more opportunities than just something to be excited about thus far, and especially right now.

You watched the man lean down close to the table, really taking in the sight of him as he tried his best to catch up to you. His hair was turning gray at the roots and his eyes looked tired, but determined. He was tall, drinking top shelf liquor, and clad in expensive looking clothes, which only made you feel better about your anticipated victory. He could afford the loss, or he wouldn’t have offered such a large sum of money in the first place. You weren’t foolish for taking him up on it, and you were certain anyone would have done the same if they were as confident in their abilities as you were.

He drew his arm back and took his shot, causing the crowd to let out a collective groan when the cue ball knocked his purple ball into the eight ball by mistake.

A fatal mistake.

If he had half a brain, he would have shot for the green ball. Luckily for you, he wanted to show off similarly to how you did, and because of that, he did exactly as you hoped.

With a little pep in your step, you lazily aimed for the cue ball, barely looking upwards at the man when you spoke aloud. “Eight ball, corner pocket.” You announced, swinging your cue forward and knocking it straight into the solid white ball. It barrelled down the table hitting the black one and transferring the energy with ease. With nothing standing in its way, it plopped straight in the pocket you aimed for and won you the game.

A booming chorus of cheers sounded around the room, the entire group crowded around the table unable to believe you’d snagged yet another victory that night. Your head dropped downwards towards the table, the smile on your face blinding as you digested the rush of emotion that filled you. Any win was worth celebrating, but this one was huge. It far exceeded anything you had ever done, and it was beyond anything you ever thought you would do. You squeezed your eyes shut, holding back a few threatening tears as you laughed quietly to yourself.

Eventually, you straightened up, all of your teeth showing as an ever-growing grin ate away at your cheeks. The cheers were warbled, the buzz of excitement barely heard over your racing thoughts and pounding heart. You felt Izzy’s hands on your shoulders, her excitement bleeding from her as she shook you gently, literally jumping for joy as your opponent pulled out his wallet. If you were less stunned, you likely would have joined her, but in the moment your excitement was so large it was making your head spin and your vision blur.

You only came to when the man stepped in your direction, offering his hand to shake to commend you for your talent. You accepted, flashing him a thankful expression for giving you the opportunity in the first place.

“Great game, darlin’. Guess I got what was comin’ to me.” You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, all of your previous competitiveness fleeing you entirely. Instead of a rival, you stood before your hero (albeit, a very stupid one). The man shaking your hand had just single-handedly paid over three months of your regular rent, easily reminding you exactly why you started playing for money in the first place.

“You put up a good fight. Don’t sell yourself short.” You replied, watching as he lowered his hand from yours and extended his opposite one. Clutched between his fingers was your rightful winnings—fifty crisp, beautiful hundred dollar bills.

When you reached to grab them, you felt a firm piece of cardstock underneath them, catching your attention much more than the huge sum of money in your hand. You flipped the thick stack over, noticing what looked to be a business card underneath the bills and furrowing your eyebrows in confusion. You held it with your free hand, reading the name and number on the other side, embossed with a company logo you had never seen before.

“If you ever want to go further than betting in bars, you have my number.” He said quietly, sending you a subtle wink. Your heart skipped a beat, making your mind flood with questions and concerns about his ambiguous offers.

“As in?” You pressed further, looking up to meet his eyes.

“As in, playing games with much bigger stakes than this.” He smiled, reaching up and giving your arm a gentle squeeze. “If you want to know more, you can always give me a call. Nothing has to be official unless you want it to be.”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you more confused than ever before, with questions you weren’t even sure he had answers to. You turned to Izzy, shocked and surprised as you processed the interaction that just unfolded. You swallowed hard, giving her the money to put in your wallet, then gave your head a good shake to bring yourself back to reality.

“What was that about?” She asked, doing exactly what you needed without any verbal instruction. She clasped your wallet shut and buried it at the very bottom of her bag before looking back up at you.

“Think I just got invited to an underground gambling club.” You chuckled, a bit wooed at the thought. You ran your hand through your hair, pushing it back from your face as Izzy snatched the card from your hand to see for herself.

“That’s crazy, right? You’re not going to call him, are you?” She asked, her gaze flickering between you and the card. When her questions went unanswered, her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in shock. “You’re not actually going to call him, right?” She asked again, this time expecting a verbal answer from you.

Your head turned to the table, noticing that most of the crowd filtered away by now. The night was drawing to a close, last call about an hour out and most of the patrons were ready to retire after spending too much money and having nothing to show for it. There were a few people lingering by the bar, willing to indulge in a few more drinks before heading home, but the pool tables were near deserted aside from you and a few stragglers finishing games on the other side of the room.

“No,” you scoffed a small laugh, a far-away look in your eyes as you forced a smile on your lips. “F’course not. That’s crazy, right?”

“Right…” she nodded, wanting to be the voice of reason but stuck thinking about how good it felt to hold that much cash in her hand. “Would you be winning that every time?”

“Ah,” you chuckled, tapping your manicured nails on the wood grain framing the pool table. Your tried-and-true, the very reason behind your success and the only reason you even stood there with that much money in your pockets. When the room went quiet and all you could hear was your own breathing and heartbeat, it felt like she was whispering to you, imploring you to consider the benefits of his offer, imploring you to trust in her. “Think the winnings are a lot better than the one we’re leaving with tonight.” You cleared your throat, kicking your high heel against the floor to rid yourself of some of the anxiety plaguing you.

“Holy shit, Y/N.” She whispered, almost unable to believe you were telling her the truth.

“Yeah.” You replied, closing your eyes for a moment to bargain with the thought. “You know how much that could help us?”

“Is it worth it, though? It could hurt us, too. Maybe even a lot more than it could help.” She seemed hesitant, but you could see the green flashing before her eyes, motivating her to keep considering the possibility. Money was a wicked motivator, and the two of you had been chasing it your entire lives. Now, faced with the opportunity to never have to worry again, you couldn’t help but consider it.

“When has she ever let me down before?” You gave a ghost of a smirk, the feeling of the pool cue in your hand sending your ego through the roof. “I mean look at what she did for us tonight. All weekend.” Your tongue traced the inside of your bottom lip, the simple thought of thousands making your mouth water and that hunger grow even worse. “Haven’t been on a win streak this long in ages.”

“I know, babe.” She huffed, giving a single nod of agreement. “You know I’ll support you no matter what, but don’t jump right in. At least talk to him first, find out what you’re really signing up for, okay?”

“Always.” You caught her eye, the warmth in her stare reminding you of everything you already had and telling you that everything would be okay no matter what you chose.

Did money matter when you had love like that? Kinship like that?

Izzy was everything; your only constant, and the most comfortable part of your life. From the very beginning, tripping over your own feet in pre-k and learning how to spell your own name, she was right there beside you. No matter if it was falling with you or helping you up, she would do it in a heartbeat, even if it were no gain to her. She stuck by your side for every crazy decision and reckless act, and never once held it over your head or punished you for your stupidity. You would never make a thoughtless choice that would affect her directly, and you would never punish her with ignorance or incompetence. The whole reason you were offered the gig tonight stemmed from your desire to do better for her, to take away the struggle and ease the weight upon her shoulders. If not for her, you would still be wandering aimlessly and struggling often.

Money meant little when you realized you held more of the world in your hands than most people ever got to touch. Suffering and struggle was bearable with her always bearing half the burden, and a friend like her gave you hope that you could face any pain and make it out unscathed.

“I’ll think about it, Iz. I’ll make sure it’s worth it, first.”

“That’s all I want.” She confirmed her stance, knowing that turning down that kind of money was crazier than never chasing it at all. “Do you want to head home? Can talk about it in the morning—I’m fuckin’ wiped.”

“You go get some sleep. Call a cab and get home safe. Think’m gonna stay here and clear my head.” You explained, reaching in the pockets of the pool table and beginning to re-rack the balls.

Not that you didn’t want to hear her voice of reason, but because you needed some time to come to terms with it yourself. You’d learned that although it was your biggest money maker, the pool table in the very back corner was also your biggest confidant and your favorite escape. A quick solo game would make you feel better, and hopefully make your choice a hell of a lot easier.

“You sure? I don’t mind stayin’ with ya.” She gave you a cheeky smile, nudging you with her elbow. You chuckled at her unwillingness to leave you on your lonesome, always wanting to keep you safe even if there was no need for it.

“I’m sure. Go get some sleep, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

“If you insist.” She sang, knocking back the last of her drink and lingering for a moment, wanting to see if you would change your mind. When you blew her a kiss as you rounded the corner of the table, she took that as a gesture of finality. She gave you a wave, silent and slow as she stepped backwards, keeping her eyes on you as well as she could until she was completely out of sight.

When you were alone, you finally felt the full force of the night’s whirlwind of events. You grabbed the small cube of blue chalk sitting on the edge of the table, inspecting it carefully as you raised it to the tip of your cue. Closing your eyes as you circled it round the wooden stick, you let out a long breath. Your shoulders slumped slightly, the stress and adrenaline from your last game fleeing you alongside the anxiety you carried to the bar with you that night. The chatter had died down, the lull of rock sounding over the crackling speakers filling your ears and soothing the swarm of incessant thoughts in your brain.

All those years ago, did you ever imagine you would be put in such a position?

What would she think, the freshly eighteen year old who stepped out into the world alone for the first time, wondering how the hell she would make it?

What would your dad think? The man who put the cue in your hand back home, laughing as he snapped a picture of the little girl who was half its size? Would he be proud, remembering where you started, shooting at balls and never truly understanding what the game meant or how you were supposed to play? Or would he be disappointed, saddened to see you struggle so bad you had to bet your way to paying the bills?

Ah, what did it matter?

Tough decisions and trusting the universe had not led you astray yet, and even if it wasn’t the most honest way to earn a living, it sure did what you intended it to do.

“Hey Chuck,” you called from the table, catching the attention of the bartender wiping counters. His eyes cut to you, a glimmer of light in his eye that only ever shined when you were the subject of his attention. “Can I get another bottle?” You asked, tapping your empty beer against your cue as you gave him a smile.

“One or two?” He asked, half-twisting towards the cooler to retrieve your drink.

“Two should do the trick.” You chuckled, barely embarrassed that he knew you so well. He grabbed the necks of two brown bottles in one hand, setting them on the ledge of the half wall separating the drinking area from the game room. You removed the black triangle from the racked balls, lining the cue ball at an angle and taking the shot to break it. As the balls spun out of control, twisting and turning, knocking into each other with ringing clacks, you stepped towards the bar. He used his bottle opener to free the caps, tossing them in the trash can by his feet as you picked up the first drink.

“You played well tonight.” He noted, slinging an old towel over his shoulder. “Busiest I’ve seen here all month.”

“Yeah, probably why I did so well.” You laughed, your eyes studying his face. His ginger hair curled at the ends, laying over the nape of his neck. His fair skin was slightly blushed and heavily freckled, and he was still as full of life as he was when the doors opened that night. “Had lots of time to practice over the last few weeks.”

“Paid off, it seems.” He commended you, giving you a verbal pat on the back for all he witnessed.

Chuck wasn’t much older than you were, and over your many years of frequenting the bar, you had gotten to know him fairly well. Starting in the military at eighteen, he decided school wasn’t for him and he should put his strength still remaining from high school football to some good use. For a long time, he worked high end security gigs between deployments, which kept him busy in the meantime and still gave him some sort of purpose when he couldn’t do the job he originally signed up for. At twenty four, he got a pretty nasty injury that left him with a medical discharge and a lot more mental turmoil than physical.

After a year of recovery, his slow start back into the regular world landed him as a bouncer at the very bar you were in now, and then eventually a bartender when needed. Despite all the shit life threw at him, he was still the most friendly man you’d ever met, and he was just happy to be wherever he went. After so many nights of getting to know each other, you considered him a friend, and a good one at that. To Izzy, sometimes he seemed to be a little bit more than her favorite bartender. You didn’t ask, and she never told, but the nights she didn’t come home, you could only assume that she found company in the redhead who often made her singles into doubles without any charge.

“If you’re still here when I lock up, I want my turn.” He grinned, both of you knowing that was your price for staying past last call.

“You know where I’ll be.” You grinned, tapping your bottle against the ledge before taking a swig. With that, he returned to cleaning the counters and you walked back to your game. “Why don’t you play some good music while you’re at it?” You teased, shooting the quip over your shoulder that you knew he would agree with. Without any hesitation, he queued up a different playlist and turned it up.

Setting both drinks on a nearby table, you didn’t waste much time lining up your first shot. When you watched the striped balls scatter across the green top, all of your troubles ceased to exist. Hearing the resin balls knock against the pockets and roll inside was the greatest sound in the world. When you played, everything else seemed to disappear, leaving you alone with only one goal in mind.

Well, most of the time, at least.

Other times, you could still feel your father leaning over your shoulder, whispering bits of advice you would hold close to your heart for the rest of your life. You could feel the weight of his presence, the energy of his applause when you made a perfect play, and the joy of being with him all wrapped into one.

It was haunting just the same as it was comforting.

“Excuse me,” a gentle voice sounded from behind you, catching your attention just before you leaned down to take another shot. You would have been startled if not for the sweetness behind the words. You turned, still stuck in thought about the man who taught you everything you knew, wondering who would be approaching you so late in the night.

When you were turned completely, you thought the man standing before you was some twisted trick from the universe, baiting you with perfection to lure you to danger. His long curls dusted his shoulders, complimented by a patterned bandana folded neatly and settled atop his head. A short sleeved, ribbed knit shirt that hugged his torso like it was made just for him, tucked into jeans that hugged his legs. Gold chains paired perfectly with a pendant necklace hung around his neck, glimmering under the minimal light. You didn’t recognize the symbol on the chain, but you felt compelled to ask, to know before you lost your chance. His skin tanned, his brown eyes warm, and his smile soft and sweet. He held a pool cue in his large hand, and his expression was curious.

You hated to admit that he had you completely flustered by simply existing.

“Hey,” you eventually breathed out, the bridge of your nose burning as the skin turned red with a blush. You wondered if he noticed under the low light, or if he even cared. Looking like he did, you were certain you weren’t the only person who had a hard time finding words when speaking to him. “What’s up?”

“Sorry if this is weird, or whatever…” he raised a hand to the back of his neck, sheepish as his eyes raked over you with the same intensity you held in your own. “I was watching you play earlier. Would have introduced myself sooner, but you seemed a bit busy.”

“S’all good. Not weird at all.” You smiled, almost flattered by the fact that he seemed nervous to talk to you.

“You play a mean game. I’m Danny.” He seemed to shake off his nerves at your reassurance, his eyes flickering to the balls scattered on the tabletop to break the burning stare shared between you.

“Y/N.” You replied, extending your hand to shake. He responded enthusiastically, the warmth of his skin sending shivers down your spine and goosebumps raising across your arms.

‘Damn, Y/N. Get it together.’ You thought to yourself, but still found your chest tight and your mouth dry from the sheer beauty of the man standing before you. Did he want to play, or did he want to talk to you? You were too afraid to ask, but whatever it was, you knew you would be compliant with it. If it meant getting an extra moment to admire him, you would be more than happy to do so.

“You play a lot?” He asked, his attention back on your face as he asked.

“Think that’s putting it lightly.” You grinned, knowing that his assumption barely even scratched the surface. “I guess it’s my thing, as some would say.” You quoted the word with one hand, your eyes glazing over with pride at the fact.

“There’s worse things to have.” He joked back, easing up as he understood you weren’t as intimidating as he thought moments before.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Daniel?” At the sound of his name on your lips, his breath caught in his chest and his words in his throat. “Come on, now. Don’t be shy.” You pried a little further, noticing the red dusting his cheeks, too.

“You caught my eye, that's all.” He conceded, shifting his weight onto his heels as a gentle grin decorated his lips. “Curious about the pretty girl who was wiping the floor with every pool player in here. Wanted to talk to you before someone else stepped in and ruined my chances.” At that, you couldn’t help but laugh, honored that your talent struck him so well, and even more curious about him.

“So is this about me being good at pool, or you thinking I’m pretty?” You found yourself going along with the bit, entertaining whatever he was thinking and enjoying making him sweat. Normally, you didn’t entertain wandering eyes and flirtation, but from him, it felt different. It felt like something you wanted to get used to, and you barely knew a thing about him.

“Can’t it be both?” He raised an eyebrow, realizing that he wasn’t coming off too strong for you.

“S’pose it can, yeah.” You nodded, a cheeky grin on your lips.

“Have time to entertain a poor guy like me, or are you too busy training for the championship?”

“I think I could fit you in,” you smiled, nodding your head. “Might be nice to have some company, anyway, s’long as you don’t get in the way of the championship.” You pointed your index finger, a faux warning with playfulness in your eyes.

“You only play for money, or is fun allowed too?” He stepped towards the table, watching as you shot the white ball at a group of striped ones.

“Mostly for money, but I know how to have fun.” You explained, straightening up as you scanned for the next best move. “Usually just with friends, though. Can I consider you my friend, Daniel?” Your eyes cut to his face, your head cocking to the side ever so slightly.

“That’s up to you, Y/N.” He said your name with the same kind of conviction in his tone, like the simple idea of speaking your name would send him to his knees. You had no idea how you failed to notice him sooner, how he flew right under the radar and managed to stay there until he wanted to be seen. A small part of you was grateful for the fact, because had your eyes landed on him while you were playing, he would have thrown off your entire game. You didn’t like distractions, and from all you had seen so far, that appeared to be exactly what he was, even if he was a good one.

“All or nothing, or is there something else on the table you’re too afraid to say out loud?” You smirked, leaning down and shooting at another striped ball. It landed in the corner pocket, even when your eyes were barely focused on the table. Your forwardness seemed to take him by surprise, but it did not deter him.

“Like what, sharpshooter?” The nickname piqued your interest, causing another blush to appear on your cheeks.

“I don’t know, Daniel. That’s why I asked you.” At that, it was his turn to laugh, a beautiful and breathtaking laugh that nearly sent you straight to the grave.

You met plenty of men at bars, some just as beautiful and many more who took their chances with you, but none of them had any effect on you, and if they did, it was never like this. You had no idea what spell he casted on you, but it was more powerful than any force you had ever encountered before. The small game of cat and mouse had already begun, but you were both chasing each other equally as much. It was fun, lighthearted, and you believed that if you were to back out, he would leave it at that. His beauty matched his charm, and he was as sweet as he was hot. If more than friends was on the table, you certainly would not be opposed to the idea.

Even so, you would not be the first to say it.

No matter how attractive he was, you would cling to the last sliver of pride you could.

“Where are you from, honey?” He asked, switching the topic with ease and getting himself out of the spotlight.

“Ohio.” You responded, deciding not to pay any mind to his sudden shift in direction. “You?”

“Michigan.” He replied, his eyes following your game, only glancing at you when he thought you weren’t looking.

“Ah,” You chuckled, a twinkle in your eye at the thought. “Natural enemies. Should we even try to be friends, darlin’?”

“Maybe a little competition will do us some good.” He theorized, still holding his pool cue tightly. “Seems like you’re a fan of it, anyway.” A sneaking glance your way left you to believe his intent was much stronger than friendly, and you couldn’t ignore the twisting of your stomach at the thought. “What are you doing so far from home?” He posed another question, not letting you focus on his previous comments for too long.

“I’m a firm believer that home is the people, not the place.” You finished off the striped balls, taking a long sip of beer before moving on to the solids. “The only person I had left wanted to leave, and I sure as hell wasn’t letting her leave me behind.” You didn’t know why you wanted to answer him with so much honesty. You could have sugar coated it, or come up with a simple lie to evade the question, but you didn’t want to. For some strange reason, you felt a type of solace in Daniel’s company you had never found in another, and him knowing you certainly wasn’t the worst thing in the world. “What about you?”

“I’m a musician.” Although his response was short, it was not dry. He seemed to be vying for a reaction before he delved too deep.

“A musician in Nashville… never heard of that one before.” You grinned, already getting down to the last few balls on the table. “Any good?”

“I mean, we’re alright.” He shrugged, chuckling quietly.

“I’ll have to take your word for it. Your very convincing word.” You found another laugh stuck in your teeth, wondering how it was so easy for him to cause them. “Just you?”

“Nah, me and my best friends. More like brothers, really.” He said, one hand stuffed in his pocket as he watched you take another shot.

“That’s cool.” You conceded, sending him a smile as you straightened back up.

“So, how did you get this gig?” He asked, more apt to get to know you than anything else.

“Wouldn’t really say it’s a gig.” You chalked the end of your cue again, thinking back to the very beginning. “When I first moved here, life was… not what we thought it would be. My best friend enrolled in university, and I looked into a few classes for community college, but never ended up pursuing it. I couldn’t take a full time program and work to support the both of us, and since she moved here for school and I tagged along, I prioritized money.”

“A valiant woman… I can appreciate that.”

“Well it was that, or drown. Someone had to pay the bills, and I couldn’t force her to do both. She’ll take care of me when the time comes. Just the way we work.” You didn’t expect him to understand, but you wanted him to, even if you did not know why.

Until that moment, you were fine having Izzy as your person, the only one who would ever truly get you, and you never needed more. Until he showed up, you were happy with it, but he carried some external energy that drew you to him, making you hang off every word and hope he would be willing to give more. You wanted to talk to him, to tell him the things you most often kept quiet about. He was interested, radiated kindness and exuded a type of peace you hadn’t felt in a really long time. Being in his company was refreshing, something very different than what you had grown used to since moving to Nashville, and he barely even had to try. You didn’t want him to leave, and you never wanted him to stop talking. Men never interested you much unless you could get a couple dollars off a game, but he didn’t seem like any regular guy.

“It’s nice having someone that you can lean on no matter what.” He explained, a twinkle in his soft brown eyes caught your attention almost instantly. “No matter how far away from home, you always get to bring a piece with you. Even if you’re lost, you always know you’ll find your way with them by your side.” He tapped his foot against the ground while he spoke, like he was trying his best to put such profound emotions into a legible message. Slowly, you nodded your head, agreeing with everything he said.

Maybe he did get it, and more than you ever would have believed.

“I have Sam.” He continued, a small smile stretching his lips. “Been my friend for as long as I can remember. Wouldn’t know where I’m going or what I was doing without him by my side.”

“Yeah, exactly.” You squeaked a response, your heart racing as you shot at another ball. Something about the topic of conversation made it all feel real, and as much as you were enjoying it, it also scared you. Being perceived as a person with depth did not usually bode well with you; you much preferred to be the heartless snake that could kill a game of pool, especially to strangers. It was nice being understood, but hard to swallow all the same. “When things were really rough, I guess we were desperate to find a distraction. Something to look forward to that wouldn’t hurt us any more.” You cleared your throat, watching the last colored ball fall into a pocket, leaving you with just the eight ball.

“And that was playing pool?”

“Sort of.” You nodded, deciding to take a break before finishing the game against yourself. For a topic so heavy, you thought it best to give him all of your attention. “I always loved the game. Been playing it since I was this big.” You held your hand out a few feet above the floor, giving a vague estimate to accompany your words. “When we found this bar, it wasn’t very popular, which was good. Lots of tables and none were ever filled, so we spent a lot of nights at this one. I played and Iz watched—she was never much of a pool player, but she loved to spend time with me. It worked for us.”

“How did you start playing for money?” His questions were endless, and you didn’t mind. You enjoyed his intrigue, happy that he wanted to know you as much as you wanted to know him.

“After about a year or so of playing for fun, we made pretty good friends with the bartender.” You nodded your head towards Chuck. “Great guy, but too cocky for his own good. He bet twenty bucks, and lost it in less than ten minutes.” At that, Daniel let out a bellowing laugh, causing an unfamiliar flutter in the pit of your stomach. How could one man be so perfect? “A few guys watching caught wind, and I s’pose they all thought they’d try their luck. I went home with a bit of extra pep in my step and a hell of a lot more confidence. Didn’t win very much, but when you don’t have it in the first place, it’s a lot. Was different than winning the slots, or something like that. Made me feel good, like I was good at something.”

“From what I’ve seen, you’re a lot better than good.” You weren’t sure why the compliment struck you with so much force, especially considering so many people often spoke the same sentiment, but you held it close to your heart. With blushing cheeks and a racing heart, you muttered a small thank you.

“After that, I realized I could keep making money off of it. Instead of wasting hours on nothing, we came down here with a purpose. Word went around, and everybody wanted to take their chances. It took a little while to win anything substantial, but it eventually started paying some of the bills and even more than that. Now people come here just to play against me.” You couldn’t help the smirk that formed, proud of yourself for creating something from nothing. As you bargained with the idea, you leaned down and shot the eight ball, effortless and confident as it rolled into the side pocket.

“That’s pretty damn impressive.” He took a step closer to the table, inspecting the clear top after you sunk all of the shoes without a hitch. “You’re pretty damn impressive.” Your cheeks burned again, but you looked to the ground so he did not notice. You wished you could understand why he had such a big effect on you, how he rivaled every other man you had ever met and all he had to do was talk to you, but you understood that not all things need an answer. Sometimes, it’s just nice to appreciate it while it lasts. “I think my biggest question is how did you get so good at it?”

You caught his eye for a moment, his face lucent even in the near darkness of the bar. It knocked the breath from your lungs, his burning stare and unwavering commitment to knowing you. You wondered if it was just because of curiosity, or if he had a hidden agenda that he would only share at the perfect moment. Either way, it did not matter; you would be overjoyed to go along with whatever plans he wanted to make for the night, and you would be even happier if you ended up in his bed. For a single moment, you debated whether you should bring it up yourself or see what tricks he had up his sleeve.

You opted to make him sweat a bit, knowing that every extra minute spent in his company would be worth it.

“Is that your biggest question, Daniel?” You raised an eyebrow, a knowing expression on your face as you saw his eyes flicker down to your lips. Silently answering the question for you, you felt a slight bit of satisfaction at his miniscule action.

“One of them.” He replied, nonchalant as he began to place the balls back on the green.

“Well, get to askin’, then.” You decided to help him out with his task, wondering if his curiosity really did lie in the game and you were reading too far into it. “I don’t have all night.” A lie, but he didn’t need to know that.

“I was asking—you were avoiding.” He caught your eye again, each time his stare landed on you the effect far worse than the last.

“Maybe I don’t like that one.” You weren’t being dishonest; that question, above all, was your least favorite of any one that anybody could ask you. To answer, you would have to talk about your dad, and that was best left as a memory rather than a story. “I want to hear what else you’ve got.”

“Alright,” he conceded, racking the balls in the middle of the table. He did not outright say it, but you could see his desire for a game hidden deep in his features. You wondered how long it would take for him to place his wagers. “Are you going home with anyone tonight?”

You thought about it for a moment, the ghost of a smile on your lips as your silence led him astray. You weren’t going home with anyone, nor did you ever have any intent to. In fact, you had been looking forward to walking home to find Izzy curled up on the couch (because that’s where she always fell asleep when she was drunk), all of the lights on and the television playing loudly in the background. You would sit with her until your mind stopped racing, and eventually you would crawl up to your bedroom and sleep off the night's excitement while planning for tomorrow.

Now, you weren’t sure how much you liked that idea. With him standing so close, the fresh scent of his cologne distracting you and the warmth of his presence more persuasive than anything else, you didn’t want to go home alone. His gentle smile and burning gaze sent the hair on the back of your neck raising and goosebumps littering your skin. For a brief moment, you wondered what it would be like to touch him, to put the conversation to rest and explore more pleasurable, fulfilling alternatives. He made it so easy to ignore everything else and focus your attention solely on him, and since he joined you at the table, you hadn’t been able to think of anything but him.

If you went home alone, would you regret it?

If you went home with him, would you regret it?

For some reason, you believed that you would never regret a night spent with someone as compelling as him, but the fear still remained. You barely knew him, nor his intentions. You were rightfully concerned, but something deep in your heart told you that you could trust him and that he would not do you wrong.

You hoped so, anyway.

“Not unless I meet someone worth my time, no.” You shook your head, giving him a lingering stare as he processed your words. The corner of his lips quirked upwards, not necessarily into a smile, but a response to you nonetheless.

“How do your games work, sharpshooter?” He asked, removing the plastic triangle and hanging it on the hook on the side of the table.

“Depends.” You chalked the end of your cue, gearing up for another game you would inevitably win. “Usually, you pick the price, and I tell you if it’s worth my time.”

“Only money worth your time?” He grabbed the second block of chalk, catching your attention as he reached up to do the same to his cue. You noticed the veins in the back of his hand, leading to the same prominent feature in his forearms. Your stomach fluttered with curiosity, studying him closely as the muscles in his biceps flexed. For a brief moment, you imagined what it would feel like for his hands to be on you, his flexing muscles under your touch as he offered you much more than a challenge.

“What do you have in mind?” You finished off the last of your beer, discarding the bottle on the ledge by the bar and making quick work sipping at your second. He seemed hesitant to answer, but his eyes were glimmering with mischief. You wished it didn’t intrigue you as much as it did, but you felt yourself leaning into him as you awaited your answer, showing your own desperation for him to speak. “Out with it.” You pressed, smiling again as he rocked back onto his heels.

“How about…” he sucked in a breath through his perfectly straight and white teeth, his eyes darting from you to the table. You raised an eyebrow, cocking your head to the side as you waited for him to continue. “If I win, I get to take you home for the night.”

You froze momentarily, your heartbeat and breathing included. Your cheeks, burning red under the dim pot lights overhead, giving away your feelings on the matter almost instantly. Could you agree to such personal terms? Even if you wanted to go home with him, you still weren’t quite sure if it was a good idea. You hardly knew him, and could barely comprehend his boldness even if it did turn you on. If you turned him down, you felt that there was a possibility of regret, and you certainly didn’t want to see him turn and walk away, especially after how much you enjoyed talking to him.

Then again, you barely even believed he could beat you in the first place. At the very core of it, the very beautiful, polished man that stood before you didn’t seem to have a competitive bone in his body, nor did he seem to be as well versed in the game as you were. Even if he had skill, you couldn’t imagine he would be as committed to beating you as you were to beating him. That was most of the reason you won as often as you did. If you agreed, the chances of his desired outcome happening were slim to none. That made you feel worlds better, and your cockiness gave you the extra push to agree with his crazy idea.

Maybe by the time the game was over, you would know for sure if you wanted to go home with him or not. An extra hour spent getting to know him definitely wouldn’t hurt, and then you would be able to join him on your own accord if you so wished. With a dry mouth, you swallowed back your surprise, bargaining with the fluttering of your heart as you understood he definitely found you as attractive as you found him. To bet on something so forward, you really must have caught his eye.

“And what if I win?” You asked, trying your best to keep your cool and remain confident.

“Guess that’s up to you, is it not?” He flashed you a smile, and for a split second you wanted to abandon the game entirely and accompany him home then and there. Whatever he was doing to you, he was doing it incredibly well, and you began to fear he would get what he wanted no matter who won the game.

“S’pose it is.” You pursed your lips slightly, running the tip of your tongue over the back of your teeth as you brainstormed your stipulations. Then, an idea struck you, working for you in more ways than one. “If I win, I want two tickets to your next show, rockstar.” You pointed in his direction, knowing that your offer would send the subliminal message that you did in fact want to see him again, even if you did not end up in his bed.

“I’ll even throw in a backstage pass, just because. Best view in the whole house.” He sent a wink in your direction, forcing you to look away as your breath caught in your throat. You could feel a dull ache begin to bother you between your legs, and you knew if you let yourself focus on it, the game would be his before it even started.

“Mr. Important, or whatever.” You teased, your finger tracing the wood grain on the table as you reached for the coin sitting on the very corner. “Didn’t realize I was in the presence of such a big celebrity.” You took the cool metal coin between your middle and index finger, flashing it in his direction so he could see what you were up to.

“So, we have a deal?” He asked for clarification, wanting to ensure there were no blurred lines.

“I think we do.” You nodded, turning back towards him only to notice he had stepped closer. “Shake on it?” You asked, extending your hand towards him. He reached forward, his palm landing against yours as his fingers closed around it. You hated the fact that something as simple as a handshake from him had you weak in the knees, but you bargained with the lack of strength in your legs as you focused on the warmth he provided.

“Game on, sharpshooter.” He said, his hand lingering on yours for a moment longer than it should have. He was close, much closer than a friendly opponent should be. You could see the rise and fall of his chest, just inches from your own, and when you looked upwards to meet his eyes, his face wasn’t much further away. The two of you stayed locked in the same position for what seemed like an eternity, both of you understanding the pull of your heartstrings as you admired each other up close.

“I flip a coin for start, but if you have something better in mind, please do tell.” You explained, your voice barely above a whisper because it did not need to be. He was close enough you were sure he could hear your racing heart and shallow breaths. The smell of his cologne was intoxicating, and you felt more drunk the longer he stood near. If this was how the whole game was going to go, you understood you were in for a wild ride.

“Sounds good to me.” He finally dropped his hand, but much slower than normal, like he was hesitant to let you go. You placed the coin on the back of your thumb, hoping he did not notice the slight trembling of your fingers.

“Heads or tails, Daniel?” You held his gaze, finally getting the chance to appreciate the sea of brown in his irises, the flecks of near blackness and the golden streaks that accentuated the already beautiful chestnut color. Soft and warm and kind, something you felt like you could get lost in forever and never yearn to be found.

“Tails.” He said, seemingly studying the intricacies of you.

You tossed the coin in the air, barely looking down as you guided it to the back of your hand with your palm. For a few seconds, you stood still once more, not ready to part from the closeness the moment granted. His skin was soft like wind in the reeds, the ends of his curly hair tickling his cheek ever so gently. For once, you did not feel uncomfortable under another’s stare—you did not want to hide, nor to turn away or dissolve into nothing to avoid the attention from another. This time, you felt appreciated, seen for everything rather than just something, and you thought it a crime to never be on the receiving end of his attention.

Eventually, you withdrew your hand covering the coin, looking down to see it showing heads.

“Looks like luck is on my side, tonight.” You mumbled, knowing that if you truly wanted to be a dick, you could take the game out in one play. He let out a small huff of air, similar to a laugh but not quite, like he was amused by your response.

“We’ll see.” He replied, taking a small step back from you. Your eyebrows furrowed together, your eyes lingering on his face as he stood stationary beside the table.

What did that mean?

Opting to ignore his attempt at undermining your ability, you shook off your nerves and realized that it would affect your game if you focused on it for too long. Instead, you decided to show him that luck had little to do with it, and going home with him would not be your punishment for loss, but a choice you made on your own accord. You had never bet on something so extreme, and especially never something sex-related. You would be lying if you said it didn’t put any extra pressure on you, but your win streak from that night alone led you to believe that you wouldn’t have to suffer any consequences. Beating him would be as easy as any other game, and that fact played a huge part in agreeing to his terms.

Well, that, and the fact that going home with him would be an option even if pool wasn’t a factor.

You placed the cue ball on the green, leaning down and settling the tip of your cue in the groove between your thumb and forefinger. You placed your four fingertips against the felt below, and lifted your thumb slightly to give yourself better control of the cue. Aiming and faking your shot a few times, you let yourself get a feel for the position without following through. Eventually, you withdrew your arm and spring forward with an ample amount of force, sending the white ball rolling forward and crashing into the racked balls.

Your eyes stayed glued on the table as all of the balls scattered across the top. A few rolled into the rails, then you watched as two striped balls rolled to the side and into a corner pocket, back-to-back. A triumphant smile on your face, you scanned for the next best move, noting that the white ball rolled to a stop near the middle of the table. You straightened up, taking a few steps to the side of the table before leaning down again and repositioning yourself.

You shot at the yellow striped ball, calling the side pocket just before you slid the wooden stick forward into the cue ball. Just as you expected, it rolled straight in without a hiccup. Since starting, you hadn’t looked anywhere but at the game, and as you stood to shoot for the third time, you made the mistake of casting your gaze in the direction of your opponent.

For the first time ever since playing a game of pool, you made a mistake classified as fatal, and you did so without second thought or any inkling that it would be a mistake at all.

You froze in place, noticing his eyes burning into you as you leaned down over the table, but they were no longer warm and kind. Instead, his gaze was fixated on the pull of your dress from your skin, gravity giving him a bit more of a show than you intended, and the sweetness in his stare had dissolved into a hunger you could only imagine was felt by a man starved. You felt a rush of emotion straight to the pit of your stomach, only worsened as his tongue delicately traced his lower lip. Your skin tingled with desire. And for a fleeting moment you considered forfeiting the game and sinking the eight ball just to get to his house faster.

“Nice shot, beautiful.” He whispered, his tone much more gravelly than it was when he was speaking to you before. He knew what he was doing, and he was unashamed to admit it.

Without responding, you brought your shaky hands back to the table, your stomach twisting and your mind flooded with all kinds of thoughts that had little to do with the task at hand. You were committed to winning, and you would make it a point to do so, but he was making it incredibly hard to prioritize that.

Trying to push the thought of him far from your mind, you zoned back in on the game. As you pulled your arm back to shoot, a quick flash of his darkened eyes flooded your vision, pointed at you like a predator in search of prey. As you shot at the cue ball, you did not even notice that it hit a striped ball against the rail and nowhere near the pocket. Squeezing your eyes shut, you tried to shake the memory away, but it seemed permanently seared into your brain. You could feel your heartbeat in your toes, your own arousal pulsing under your skin and forcing you to feel it when his perfectly sculpted features flashed before your eyes.

For the first time in your entire career, losing the game was more plausible than winning, and the fact only became more pertinent every time you remembered what it felt like to be under his burning gaze.

You had to get ahold of yourself, to shake off the very thing that would lead you to your demise, but you couldn’t. Whatever he was doing was working, because the man that stood before you now was much different than the one who challenged you to begin with. Being near him was to be one step away from insanity, and focusing on anything other than him was impossible. Knowing that he was watching you with the same intensity, imagining what you would look like out of your dress and underneath him when he won the game, was sending you down a rabbit hole that was far too steep to climb out of.

But you had to win.

It wasn’t an option, nor a question.

Winning was the only thing you knew how to do.

You stood, eyes casted to the floor and a blush across your cheeks as you stepped back from the table, not daring to look in his direction as you bargained with your own embarrassment. Had you ever shot so poorly before? You couldn’t recall a time in which you missed your target so entirely, and your entire body was ablaze with disappointment at your own actions.

“You know, you never actually told me…” Danny started, snapping your thoughts away from your bad play, as if he knew that’s what you were brooding about. You finally looked at him, the entire world in slow motion as your eyes landed on him again. He was tall, slim but muscular. His shoulders were broad, not noticeable from afar but very much so once you were up close and personal with him. His lips were plush, smooth and soft as your mind begged you to get a taste. “How did you get so good at pool?” Your eyes cut to his own, nervous for a moment that he was judging you for your oblivious admiration of him.

“It’s a long story.” You said, your gaze flickering to the table. He didn’t seem keen on taking his turn, though. Instead, he wanted to know you, which was as sweet as it was aggravating.

“I have time.” He assured you, stuffing one hand into the pocket of his tight jeans. You let out a huff of laughter, almost shocked at how interested he was in you. Nobody had ever cared this much—well, aside from Izzy, but never a man. Certainly not one as breathtakingly beautiful as him.

“My dad.” You responded, swallowing down a mouthful of beer so you would not choke up at the thought. You didn’t know why it was so easy to tell the truth. You could have lied, brushed it off and moved on, or ignored him completely. Instead, you wanted him to know, wanted to take solace in his heart and mind. It was a new feeling, but something you wouldn’t mind getting used to. “Had an old bar in Perrysburg, left to him by my grandfather when he died. I was six or so when he packed up and trucked us across the state so he could take over. Dad didn’t know it was as run down as it really was… thought maybe we could make some money out of it, or whatever.” You paused, feeling your throat begin to close as you recalled the memories you kept locked up tight for so long.

“We moved into an’ old fixer upper, something cheap so he could afford to fix the damn dive without us suffering because of it. We spent every day at that bar. I’d do my times tables sittin’ on the old bar top, ‘till he tore it out f’course.” You chuckled, swiping your stray hairs away from your forehead. “We’d eat takeaway on the squeaky barstools, throw the garbage in the big dumpster he rented when he tore out the old floors, and then he’d shoot some pool before we went home. Back then, I was curious, and annoying. I didn’t let up until he let me try, and wouldn’t give up until he forced me out the door.” Danny laughed at that, picturing it in his mind as he listened intently.

“Was some sort of routine we got going, you know? Get home from school, do my homework, eat, and play pool. Once he knew I wasn’t gonna give it up, he actually taught me how to play. Took a while, but by the time the bar opened I could play a game ‘till the end. Even when the reno’s were finished, we kept at it. Was our thing, you know?” You let the butt of your cue fall to the vinyl floor, the weight of the memory like cement poured atop your bones. Missing him was violent, painful and torturous. It didn’t get easier with time, nor did it ease when you recounted the beautiful years you spent with him. Worst part was, it didn’t even help if you stayed silent on the matter. The whole damn thing hurt, and it would for the rest of your life.

“Just you and him?” He asked, noticing your sudden withdrawal. Your eyes fluttered closed as you gave a small nod of your head.

“Yeah, was just us.” You hummed. From the very beginning until the very end, it was the two of you against the world. Some would say it was still the same, now. “And Izzy, sometimes.” You couldn’t leave her out, knowing it was not fair when she spent so much time with the two of you. “Her dad met mine when we were redoing the plumbing. Contracted him for it… didn’t realize he also signed us both up for lifelong friends.” A smile crossed your lips. At the end of the day, no matter how sad the situation was, you were thankful it gave you Izzy. You were always thankful for her.

“Where’s your dad now? Still at home, playing pool?” His question was innocent, but you couldn’t help but feel the stab in your chest. You wished it was that simple, but it rarely ever was.

“Not sure he can play pool where he is, honestly. Heaven’s got a wicked reputation, but I’ve never heard of angels playin’ shitty ol’ bar games.” You tried to make light of the fact, but the words came out with a wheeze as they knocked the air from your lungs. “If I’m lucky, I’ll find out someday.”

“Oh,” he whispered, shocked at the fact but trying his best not to make you feel worse about it. The impact was lessened at his soft tone, like he was breathing life straight back into you as he spoke. “He must’ve been one hell of a guy to raise someone as fantastic as you.” Your cheeks burned red at the sound of his words and all you could manage was a small shake of your head.

“You hardly know me, rockstar.”

“I know enough.” He whispered, his tone still strong despite the volume. At that, you had to look at his face, just to catch a glimpse of the conviction that he held in his features.

“He was a pretty great guy.” You agreed, smiling softly at the thought. “The best, actually.”

“I believe it.” He offered a smile of his own, cheering you up ever so slightly. “So you play for him now… that’s why you’re so damn good at it.”

“S’pose so, yeah.” You nodded, watching him lean down to take his shot. “Always feel like he’s looking over my shoulder, telling me exactly what to do. Not sure if he’d be proud of the name I made for myself, but I know he’d love me regardless.”

“What’s there not to be proud of?” Daniel asked, barely exerting any effort as he shot at a solid ball and called the pocket. When it rolled inside, he moved positions to continue his play. “You learned how to make money off of something you’re really good at. That’s smart, if you ask me.” He shrugged a bit before calling another pocket. You watched as the ball rolled across the table, knocking into the solid blue ball. It bounced off the rail and hit the green one in front of the side pocket, and both rolled in effortlessly. You felt your stomach sink, watching and understanding such a strategic move, and wondered if you had finally met your match.

How was he so good at pool, and why the hell did you take him for innocent?

You were too trusting of the man that stood before you, who once seemed humble and shy. Now, you knew he was far more than that—talented, a tad cocky, and sneaky. Thankfully, in no way did he showcase those traits in a bad way, but you had underestimated him, betting on something so grand and risky.

Had he done that on purpose? Had he approached you with the desire for you to underestimate him?

And if he did, why did that turn you on more than it turned you off of him?

“Looks like you have some hidden talents of your own.” You commented, crossing your arms over your chest as you pursed your lips slightly. He peeked back at you from over his shoulder, a sly little smile decorating his annoyingly perfect face.

“Not really hidden,” he replied, his stick settled in the same space between his thumb and index finger, but he had his finger clasped overtop it for support. You hated how much it kept your attention, the intricacies of the very simple action making your heart thrum in your chest. You had no idea why you found it so attractive, no idea why you couldn’t care about anything else. “You never asked.”

“My mistake.” Your words came out breathy, embarrassing you further as he sank another ball effortlessly. When he aimed for his fifth ball, he was a bit short on the draw, his ball stopping just before it fell into a pocket. “Where’d you learn to play like that?”

“Picked up a few tricks here and there.” He shrugged, a sly smile on his lips as he turned towards you.

“Nuh-uh,” you shook your head, stepping towards him instinctively. You yearned to feel close to him again, desperate to feel his hand in yours and longing to breathe in time with him, wondering if your hearts could beat in sync for long enough to become one. He welcomed your advance, staying still as you gradually creeped towards him. “If I told you my dirty secrets, you have to tell me yours, too.”

“Oh, I have to, huh?” He raised an eyebrow, his Adam’s apple bobbing gently as he spoke. It sent a shiver down your spine, the entire sight of him before you sent your body into overdrive. “What makes you think that?”

“It’s only fair, Daniel.” You looked upwards, feeling the closeness of your face to his as gravity continued to force you towards him. “Unless you’re not a very generous person, in which case would make our little arrangement much less intriguing for me.”

“Now you’re jumping to conclusions, baby.” He grinned, almost amused that you would pin him with such a crime. The pet name sent your already racing mind spiraling even further, making you want to jump straight into his arms and figure out the truth of the matter yourself. You let your tongue run over your bottom lip, your mouth watering from the smell of his cologne and the intoxicating look in his eye. The tension between the two of you was immeasurable, and it was growing worse by the second.

You wanted to drop the act and touch him, uncaring of how he obtained his skills and eager to see his talents in other areas. Still, you stood your ground, cue gripped tightly in your hand as you stared him down. You were annoyed that he deceived you, but more annoyed at yourself for letting him.

You let out a huff of frustration, understanding he would not answer your question right away, and turned on your heel to continue the game. With intent, you barely stepped out of the way as you leaned down to aim at the white ball, making sure to push your hips back far enough that you were just inches away from where he stood. So far, both of you had done incredibly well in ignoring the temptation of each other, but you knew his willpower was cracking when you heard him suck in a sharp breath through his teeth.

Admiring you from a distance was very different than having you bent over in front of him, within arms reach and with intent to bother him.

It certainly didn’t help that he had been picturing what you looked like underneath your clothes all night, and the tight dress you were wearing gave him an even better idea than he had before.

His eyes were fixated on the slight sway of your hips as you took aim, never daring to look away as you took your shot at a striped ball. You managed to land two balls in one shot, speeding up the process and leaving you just a bit further ahead than he was.

Before you shot again, you looked back over your shoulder, keeping your position as you locked eyes with him. You noticed the rise and fall of his chest a little more aggressive than it was moments before. The same animalistic look was shining in his eye, and his knuckles had turned white from the grip on his pool stick. You felt your core aching, desperate for relief as the two of you continued your tyrant without letting up. To rub a little extra salt in the wound, you gave a subtle wink and blew a kiss at him.

“I might need help with my next shot.” Your lower lip jutted outwards into a slight pout, playing on his already worn nerves. “Could you teach me how to shoot like you do?”

Both of you knew you didn’t need any help, but part of your teasing came from a place of desperation, unsure if you could handle another minute without his hands on you. Intoxication had become you, and the many beers you had finished off that night were finally beginning to catch up. He stood stoic for a moment, knowing if he turned down the offer, he would be an idiot. Still, the simple thought of you beating him and him not getting to take you home was wearing on him.

Confident in his own abilities, he decided to take the risk.

Leaning his cue on the wall nearby, he stepped closer to you, slow and gentle as he realized just how intimate the position was. You felt his hips press against your ass, his upper half leaning down to meet yours. Your chest was already low to the table, nearly pressing against it as his chest fit flush against your back. Ever so slightly, he let his chin rest on your shoulder and his arm wrap around yours.

“You don’t need help at all, baby.” He hummed, the warmth of his breath tickling the skin of your neck. His lips hovered just above your ear, making your heart race and your palms break out into a sweat.

“Maybe I just wanted you close to me.” You offered, feeling his heartbeat racing just as fast as your own. “Good luck charm, or whatever.”

More like a distraction, but you couldn’t seem to care. Feeling him fit so snug against you was better than winning a thousand games.

His large hand landed on your hip, his skin searing with heat and felt like it was burning straight through the fabric of your skirt. Immediately, without hesitation, you pushed your hips back into him a little further, hearing that same strained breath catch in his throat.

“Take the shot, then.” His tone was firm, challenging you as he spoke. His mouth was grazing your skin now, the man completely overtaken by desire and unable to think of anything else.

“What if I want to enjoy it for a little bit?” You bit back a smile, but knew you were feeling the effects of it too.

“Can enjoy me all you want when I win the damn game.” He growled, his low tone sending a shiver down your spine.

“Is that so?” You asked, ignoring the throbbing between your legs as you drew your arm back and prepared to take your shot. He did not respond, instead watching your movements carefully and staying as still as possible so he did not interfere with your play. When he did not reply, you followed through and knocked the cue ball forward, watching as it hit one of your last two balls into the side pocket. “Don’t be so sure of yourself, honey.” You turned your head to the side, the tip of your nose brushing his as you did so. You felt his fingers tighten on your hip, gently guiding you closer to him as he resisted the urge to close the gap between your mouths.

“Game’s not over yet, sharpshooter.” He reminded you, his brown eyes heavy lidded as he seemingly stared straight into your soul. As he straightened up, pulling away from you so you could not bewitch him any further, his palm grazed the curve of your ass, only worsening your growing need for him. Still, as badly as you wanted him, you were half tempted to win and leave him behind, just to teach him a lesson about his egotistical ways.

Still feeling your skin tingling from his earlier touch, you were vibrating as you leaned down to shoot at your last colored ball. You noticed Daniel had not moved from his place, nor had he moved his eyes from you. The thought alone had you reeling, and the longer he stared the more nervous you felt. You had to close your eyes to focus your thoughts before making any moves, but it seemingly did nothing to help when you misjudged the strength in which you shot. Your striped ball ricocheted off the rail and rolled all the way back down the table, nowhere near any pocket at all, let alone the one you called.

“Fuck,” you whispered to yourself, stressed as you studied the table and digested the very real possibility of him winning the game.

“To answer your question,” he started, breaking you free from your internal brooding. Your eyes snapped to him, immediately relieved of your stress once you remembered how alluring and enchanting he was. “When you spend so much time on the road, you start to look for things to pass the time.” He continued, ignoring the game waiting to be played and focused only on you, clad in a little black dress that would ultimately be his demise.

“Rockstar lifestyle not enough to please you?” You raised an eyebrow, reading him as he stepped towards you.

“No, it is.” He corrected, his eyes casted down over your face as he closed in on you again. “But when your biggest responsibility is getting on stage and playing music, the rest of the world seems a little boring. We spend a lot of time at bars, which usually leaves us standing in front of a pool table.” He shrugged, his eyes flickering to the green felt. “Those guys are my best friends… my brothers, and you aren’t really siblings without friendly competition, right?”

“Right.” You chuckled, finding yourself completely enamored with him as he spoke. You wanted to know everything, to hear every story and share every memory. You hoped he was willing to give as much as you yearned to take.

“We bet on lots of stuff… twenty bucks doesn’t mean much when the same bill gets passed around to everyone. Pool just happened to be one of ‘em.” He seemed to grip his cue tighter as he stood before you, resisting the urge to reach out and touch you. The temptation seemed to be wearing on him, but he was doing his best to withstand it. “We played so much that we never kept that twenty for more than a game or two, so I decided to put some extra effort in. Never cared much about the money, but it gave me something to do.”

“So you made it your life’s goal to master pool… for a twenty you don’t even give a shit about?” You giggled, feeling the heat of his body start to take a toll on you. You wanted to bring him closer, to close the gap between you for good and forget about the stupid bet that got you here.

“For something worth a lot more than twenty dollars, baby.” He corrected, grinning as he noticed the slight blush on your cheeks. “For bragging rights.”

“A humble man.” Sarcasm dripped from your tone, but you weren’t put off by the thought at all. If anything, you were just desperate to keep the conversation alive.

“No, but seriously.” He chuckled, leaning down and taking a shot at the cue ball. As he sank the last coloured ball and called his pocket, you both realized he had little chance at sinking the eight ball with the position in which the cue ball landed. Taking his loss, he made a quick move to block your next shot, figuring if he could not win he could at least make it harder for you. “At first, I just played ‘cause it was fun. It really does get boring… or monotonous on the road sometimes, and I think we all agreed on that. We all started playing against each other, and at first, we sucked. Like, so bad one game would take us all night.” He smiled to himself, finding the memory as funny as you did.

“We all start somewhere, huh?” You completely ignored the fact it was your turn, too enthralled in his voice to care about anything else.

“Yeah, that’s for sure.” He agreed, raising a hand to the back of his neck as he nodded. “Once we started to get better, I realized just how annoying it was to lose against them, because they were insufferable about it. So I started to practice more… went to bars on my own, played against myself and whoever else was around… watched a few videos. I really was determined to get better, just so I wouldn’t have to hear them brag about beating me anymore.” At that, you couldn’t help but giggle, finding that the funniest bit of all.

“So it’s an ego thing? Couldn’t handle it?”

“No, I don’t think you understand.” He laughed, his shoulders shaking and his eyes glistening with joy for being able to share this moment with you. “I’m okay with losing, but they’re the type of guys to never let you forget it. You’ll get it, when you meet them.”

When you meet them.

Whatever was going on between you two, he wanted it to last. He wanted you to meet his friends, to be a part of the inside jokes and share the sentiments instead of just hearing a retelling of them.

You weren’t sure why, but it touched your heart much more than you thought it should.

“After a while, they caught on to me.” He confessed, his lips still holding the ghost of a smile as he watched your expression. “That’s when it really became a competition. With Sam especially, ‘cause we’ve been friends forever. Just a rite of passage for us to do shit like that.” He continued to explain himself, but you were no longer listening or caring about how he acquired his talents. Instead, you were already daydreaming about what would happen when you stepped out of the bar, what the rest of the night would hold.

You liked him, and there was no doubt about it. Everything about him, the curl of his hair and the sparkle in his eye, the slight Midwest accent still lingering in his tone and the sweetness dripping from every word. There was a kind of light, a sense of wonder and warmth that radiated from him as he stood, and you couldn’t seem to keep your eyes off of him. Worse yet, you were so attracted to him that you could barely keep your hands to yourself, and for the first time in your entire career, you were ready to throw the game and take the loss with pride.

“I like you, Danny.” You confessed, the words tumbling from your lips before you could stop them. The confident facade shattered in an instant, leaving your cheeks stained red and your lower lip caught between your teeth, embarrassed about your own blunt nature.

“Yeah?” He raised an eyebrow, a sheepish smile on his face as he processed your words. “I like you too, sharpshooter.”

“You’re not going to win this game, though.” You continued, trying to regain your composure as your heart raced in your chest. At that, he gave a playful roll of his eyes, motioning to the table.

“If you’re so sure of that, why don’t you win, then?”

“Good idea.” You hummed, giving a curt nod. Your head was swimming, making you realize you were much more intoxicated than you thought, but you would not let it get in your way. “Tell me about your music, rockstar.”

“Not much to tell.” He shrugged, one hand in the pocket of his jeans and the other holding his cue close to his body. He watched as you leaned down towards the table, gravity pulling the fabric of your dress away from your chest ever so slightly and causing his breath to catch in his throat. Shifting on his feet, he tried his best not to let it distract him, but he couldn’t help but fix his gaze directly on the skin where the fabric used to lay. “It’s a rock band… started it a long time ago, when we were in high school. Released a few albums and we’re about to go on tour for another one.”

“Jeez, don’t sound so enthusiastic about it.” You smiled, noticing his trailing eyes and understanding he was no better than you were, for your gaze was stuck on him just the same. Particularly where his shirt met his jeans, how when he moved just right, it shifted and exposed the smallest flash of skin.

“I am enthusiastic, but I don’t want to sound like I’m bragging. That never leaves a good impression, now does it?” He raised an eyebrow, noticing your eyes fixated on him but nowhere near his face. Smug and cocky, he waited until you looked away.

“I asked, didn’t I?” You challenged, finally looking up to meet his eye and noticing he was no longer fixated on your chest. Your stomach filled with lead, but the look in his eye did not lead you to believe he was judging you for your actions. Instead, it was curious, inviting you in for more without having to say a word.

“I play the drums.” He continued, giving in a little bit as he realized you truly did want to know and weren’t just asking as a formality. At that, the definition of the muscles in his arms suddenly made a whole lot more sense.

Then, behind your eyes, a vision of him using that strength for nothing innocent derailed your train of thought completely. You felt your thighs squeeze together instinctively, the arousal pooling beginning to soak straight through your underwear.

‘Fuck, Y/N. Get it together.’ You thought to yourself, almost appalled at how distracted he had you. You gave your head a slight shake, refocusing your eyes on the table as you drew your arm back, calling for a corner pocket and taking your shot.

“Son of a bitch.” You hissed through your teeth, all of the factors working together to frustrate you further. The ball bounced off the corner of the pocket and rolled backwards, close but not close enough. The throbbing between your legs and the twist of your stomach was driving you mad, making your palms clammy and your mouth dry.

“We won a Grammy, too.” He added, smirking at your obvious disappointment.

Hold on—Grammy?

“What?” You asked, eyebrows raised in surprise as you forgot about your previous annoyance. “That’s like… a big deal, Daniel. Usually an opening line.” You informed him, watching as he approached the table. You were still leaning downwards over the table, eye level with his waist as he towered over the opposite side. You tried your best to ignore the racing thoughts and sinful ideas flooding your mind, but it was proving impossible.

“Some would disagree.” He brushed it off, clearly proud of the achievement but doing whatever he could to get under your skin.

“Take your shot, rockstar.” You rolled your eyes, carefully raising yourself from the table as he lined himself up. You couldn’t help but notice how ethereal he seemed under the dim pot lights, how his hair hung over his shoulder and framed his perfectly crafted face, how the muscles in his arms flecked with every move. The chains around his neck hung low to the table, the watch on his wrist twinkling under the light, and that damn bandana on his head made him all the more charming.

You could feel every beat of your heart under your skin and behind your eyes. The flutter of your stomach as you watched him was nearly unbearable, and you wondered how in the hell one man could have such an intoxicating effect on you. Typically, you did not fall for the charm of regular bar patrons, but he was no regular guy. Everything about him was intriguing and intense, so overwhelming in the best possible way. You wanted him in every way you could have him, and you couldn’t bear to wait another moment.

“—sharpshooter!” Your attention was drawn to his smiling face, his expression delicately laced with glee as he looked down at the velvet tabletop. You furrowed your brows, hesitant to admit you missed the first part of his statement because you were too busy daydreaming about him.

Shit.

He won.

Effortlessly, he sank the eight ball and left the table clear of all but the cue ball. His words were not that of conversation, but of celebration. Your shock and upset did not come from regret on behalf of your wager, but simply because you lost. It had been a long time since you had fumbled so badly, and it was much harder to swallow than you previously thought it would be.

Trying your best to push that aside, you realized the other side of the coin was not any better. The burgeoning nervousness growing in the pit of your stomach was nearly sickening, forcing you to understand that it wasn’t just play anymore. You had been waiting to get his clothes off all night, but what if you were less than he expected? What if you disappointed him?

“Hey,” Danny’s sweet tone cut you loose from your endless stream of dread. As soon as your eyes connected with his, you understood you had nothing to be worried about. After everything you had seen from him, learned about him, you knew deep down he would never be that kind of person even if he tried. Goodness surrounded him, and you could not refute his kindness, not even for a single moment. “If you’re having second thoughts, we don’t have to do this, you know. I’m happy to have another beer and maybe take you for dinner tomorrow, if you’re free.”

God, why did he have to be so unbelievably perfect?

You felt guilty that your expression led him to believe you did not want to follow through, because that could not have been further from the truth. In fact, the longer you stared back at him, the more the ache between your legs pestered you. Quickly, it had become the only thing you could think about, much more pressing than your loss and much more important than your feeble insecurities. Without a second thought, you placed your cue down on the table with much less grace than usual and closed the space between you. He turned to face you, shocked at your suddenness but receptive to the change. You reached upwards, your arms snaking around his neck as your fingers tangled in the hair laying on the nape of his neck. Instantly, his large hands found your hips, pulling your body closer until you were flush against him, the beat of his heart as strong and fast as your own.

He tasted sweet, a hint of beer still lingering on his lips as you finally leaned forward and captured him in a kiss. The warmth of his body was inviting, his touch seemingly burning holes straight through the fabric of your dress. Your head was spinning, filled with thoughts only pertaining to him, and suddenly the bar in which you normally found solace was no longer where you wanted to be. His tongue traced your lower lip, his hands sliding backwards and settling just over the curve of your ass as he pulled your hips further into him. You let out a hum of pleasure, elated at his forwardness and tempting him to take it a step further.

The scent of his cologne had invaded every one of your senses, suffocating you in the most beautiful ways as you pleaded with him for more. The feeling of kissing him was beyond anything you had imagined that night, and now that you started, you couldn’t make yourself stop.

“Fuck, baby.” He muttered, his lips still grazing yours as he spoke. Now that he had a taste of the sweetness

“A deal is a deal, rockstar.” You murmured, eyes heavy as the tip of your nose brushed his. For a moment, you forgot where you were—the only thing that existed was you and Daniel, and the surge of emotion hanging so heavily between you.

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” He replied, keeping one arm around you as he pulled his wallet out with the other.

Without complaint, you let him lead you towards the door, throwing a bill on the counter as you passed by Chuck, who was too amused at your appearance to utter a goodbye. Within minutes, you were in the backseat of a cab and on your way to Daniel’s house, which you didn’t even thing twice about. Feeling his hands on you, burning into the skin of your thigh as you drove in near silence, nothing else mattered.

When the cab pulled into his driveway, you were blinded by need for him. Any other day, in your right might, you may have marvelled at the beauty of his home, or perhaps felt nervous that your apartment could never compare. As Daniel helped you out of the back of the cab, you didn’t even have time to think of it, your head swimming with excitement for what was to come next.

Soon after, you were inside, the openness of his entry way leading to the living room unable to be marvelled at, because his lips were on your own again. The taste of him on your tongue, the sweetness of his skin, was almost too much to withstand. The ache between your legs grew stronger with every second that passed, and your stomach twisted in knots as your fingers wrapped around his bicep, pulling him closer than he could possibly get. His hands were on your hips, strong and firm as he held you to him, similar to how he touched you at the bar but with so much more intent. You could feel him through his jeans, his need for you showcased in the most beautiful way as all of the pent up tension bled both of you dry.

The faintest of whimpers fell from your lips as you kissed him, and he drank in the sound like it was necessary for survival. His hand slid backwards, over your ass as your hearts began to beat in time. Your head was spinning, filled with filth and sin as you craved more. You weren’t sure what came over you, the carnal desire so consuming you weren’t sure you had ever felt it so strongly before.

Never breaking from the kiss, he led you towards his couch, slow and cautious so that you would not get hurt. Soon enough, you felt the back of your legs knock against the leather surface, the chill shooting straight through you and sending you further into him. Taking the initiative, you sat yourself down, using your hands on his arms to pull you with him. The whole scene was primal, rushed and desperate. All night, the two of you had been dying to get to someone’s house to pursue the very act you were engaging in then.

Daniel lowered himself with you, but used his strength to push you further back, not stopping until your back was flush against the cushions and he was kneeling in front of you. Feeling a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins, you finally pulled away to admire him. His lips were swollen, pink and slick with saliva. His eyes were dark, his pupils blown and engulfing his irises. You wished to sit and admire him all day, but he had different plans. His hands were snaking up your thighs, his fingers under the skirt of your dress and pushing it upwards, stopping only when the fabric was bunched at your hips and exposing your lower half.

He sucked in a sharp breath, overcome with emotion at the sight, but did not wait to hook his fingers beneath the lace of your panties. Lifting yourself from the couch, you helped him as he slipped them off, tossing them behind him and out of sight. Returning his hands to you, your entire body was electrified with arousal, your stomach in knots as he lowered his head to your thighs.

His lips dusted over the soft skin, the attention new and exciting after months of going without. Even so, what he was doing then paled in comparison to anyone who came before, and you knew it would always be that way. There was something so special about Daniel, so enthralling and enchanting, and in a single night you knew that you never wanted anyone or anything else.

As his tongue traced over the inside of your thigh, he used his hand to push your legs further apart, exposing you completely. Your hands raised to his head, your fingers snaking through his hair as it curled around your hands. It was soft, perfect, the light tickling sensation adding to the overwhelming stimulation you were already experiencing. Just as you grew comfortable in your new position, feeling the gentle suction of his mouth on the inside of your legs, leaving marks for days to come, you felt the gentle pinch of his teeth closing around the supple flesh. Your hips raised off the couch, shocked at the new feeling, but definitely not opposed to it.

Looking down at him, admiring the sight of him between your legs, you wondered what parts of your soul necessary to sell in order to enjoy the sin forever. As his tongue connected with your core, your head falling back on your shoulders, you knew it did not matter—you would give anything, no matter how dark or dangerous, in order to have him in such a way whenever you wanted. The warmth of his mouth, the slight movement of his tongue as it traced over your aching clit was addicting, more intense than anything you had ever felt, and exactly what you had been dreaming of since you first laid eyes on him.

The muscles in your abdomen tensed, pulling with the wave of pleasure that washed over you. Your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him closer as you casted a leg over his shoulder. Your shoulders shook with the ragged breath you drew in, knowing that it would not take long for him to get you exactly where he wanted you. A breathy moan filled the air surrounding you, loud and obscene as it made home in the walls, cementing the memory of your entanglement forever. As he flattened his tongue against you, repeating the same motion, your hips raised from the couch to meet his time, your body begging for more when your lips could not do it for you.

The need was throbbing under your skin, taking over your entire body and turning you into a mess below him. He hummed against you, showing his appreciation for the show you were putting on. Feeling your nipples harden, the slight friction against the rough fabric of your dress sent you even further down the spiral. A shiver went down your spine as he suctioned his lips around your clit, the slight pressure overwhelming and pushing you closer to the steep edge.

You were nearly embarrassed, humiliated that it took so little for him to get such a reaction. You wanted to blame it on how long it had been since you fell into bed with a man, how focused you were on everything but romance, but you knew it was all because of him. From the minute you laid eyes on him, you knew he was the very thing you were waiting for, the only reason to break your unintentional spell of abstinence, because he was worth it. He wasn’t just in it for himself, nor was he pretending to be something he was not. He was just a man, undeniably capable of things many others weren’t, and he wanted to use the skill with you. He was different, and you knew it from the minute you met him, and you hoped he felt the same about you.

“Oh, fuck.” You whined, the breath knocked straight from your lungs as he slipped his hand between your leg, the tip of his middle finger collecting wetness by your entrance. “Please, Danny—need more.” You choked out, the desire pulsing behind your eyes as you wondered if you could even handle more.

Obliging to the request, he slipped his middle finger inside of you, slow as he curled it ever so slightly. The feeling was euphoric paired with the movement of his tongue, and the cry of desperation that forced its way through you only encouraged him further.

“I guess my biggest question, sharpshooter,” he said, breathless as he pulled his mouth away from you. The loss was debilitating, but he slipped his thumb in place, just so he did not lose the momentum. You looked down, the cockiness written clear across his expression agitating just as well as it was enticing. “Is if I’m making you feel good?”

“Fuck you.” You muttered, my cheeks blazing as you held his gaze. For some reason, the eye contact was even more intense than anything else he was doing, making it seem like he had stripped you down to bare bones and wisps of soul, seeing the very things that made you, you.

“Yeah, that was my intention.” He teased, adding his index finger as he kept a steady pace, the slight curl of his fingers pushing you closer to a climax. “But that's not an answer.”

“God, yes.” You seethed, unsure why you were irritated when he was doing so much for you. Perhaps you were still brooding about your loss, about how he had many tricks up his sleeve he’d kept well hidden. Though his deceit paid off for both of you, you were a sore loser.

“Don’t sound so sure of yourself.” He echoed your earlier words, taunting me as the pull of pleasure threatened you. You were balancing on a delicate line, and it wouldn’t take much more to push you over the edge.

“What, you couldn’t see for yourself?” You tried your hardest to give it back to him, but your strength was wavering. Your eyes fluttered closed as your head fell back again. A gutteral sound left your lips, tainting the room with sin as your back arched off the couch.

“I could, but hearing you say it is so much better.” He confirmed, clearly seeing the state you were in, knowing exactly what he was doing to you. He had little remorse, little care, and he was intent to follow through until the very end. “Come on, baby. Tell me all about it.”

With that, he returned his mouth to you, his tongue taking the place of his fingers. The switch was lethal, the soft, warm wetness of his mouth overwhelming in the best possible way. Paired with the curl of his fingers, still moving inside you with that same, perfect pace, he did not miss a single movement. Feeling the tension in your belly reach a peak, you choked on the breath trying to force its way to your lungs.

The intensity grew as his tongue traced over the sensitive bundle of nerves, and soon after, you came crashing down. Spewing obscenities, your hands held his head in place as your hips raised to meet the time of his tongue, the orgasm so intense you felt like you were floating. For a few, unbearable seconds, your joints locked and your whole body ached from the sensation, your throat raw as you cried his name, pleading for something you knew you could not handle.

Waking you through it, he did not slow until you relaxed against the cushions. You barely noticed as he pulled away, still high from the pleasure and trying to come down. Finally cracking your eyes open, you noticed he was standing over you, undoing the buckle of his belt as he pulled it free from the loops of his denim jeans. He was painfully hard, strained against the zipper and desperate for relief himself. Your mouth watered at the thought, so eager to feel him inside of you that you did not wait until he directed you further.

With shaky limbs, you sat up, holding eye contact as he freed himself from his jeans and his boxers. Switching positions, he could not seem to pry his gaze from your fucked our expression, your flushed cheeks and plush lips the only thing on his mind until you turned away, not taking the time to rid yourself of your dress as you faced the back of the couch on your knees. Planting one firm hand on the frame, you looked back over your shoulders as you pushed your hips backward, towards him as you offered the very thing he’d been thinking of all night.

With a hiss of joy staining his teeth, his large palms landed on your hips, pulling you back a little further to make it easier for him. Stepping forward at the same time, you felt his cock against you, the tip gliding through the pooling arousal at your entrance. If possible, the sensation sent you further over the edge, so animalistic that you could barely recognize yourself.

“Is this what you wanted, rockstar?” You asked, your knuckles white as you felt him glide through your folds. The tip of his cock brushed over your sensitive clit, your legs twitching from the intense feeling.

“Bet on it, didn’t I?” He asked, knowing he was only teasing both of you further by refusing to fuck you.

“You could’ve just asked, you know.” You pointed out, sucking in a sharp breath as he repeated the same action over again. Your legs were trembling, barely holding you up, but you refused to give in. “Or were you too scared I’d turn you down?”

“Scared isn’t quite the word.” He corrected you, finally settling his tip just over your entrance. You felt yourself clench around nothing, wanting him so badly but refusing to give him any more gratification to fuel his ego. “No shame in earning something. You’d know something about that, wouldn’t you, sharpshooter?”

“You really would have gone home alone if you lost?” You asked, curious more than anything, wondering if he had wanted you just as badly, or if it really was a game to him.

“Fuck no.” He nearly laughed, slamming his hips forward at the same time as he spoke, catching you off guard and knocking the air from your lungs. Gasping at the feeling of him filling you completely, the stretch as you accommodated his size was addicting, irresistible. “We both knew I was always going to win.”

Before you could respond, he withdrew his hips and slammed forward with the same, bruising force. As the tip of his cock brushed against your cervix, your whole body reacted, your walls squeezing around him and pulling him in further. Drunk off him and eager for him to keep going, you still couldn’t keep your mouth shut, unwilling to go down without a fight.

“So you weren’t amazed by my skill.” You called him on the white lie, forcing the words through gritted teeth while pushing yourself back on him. He began a steady pace as you tried so hard to keep your mind straight to not give him the satisfaction. You looked back over your shoulder, catching his eye and locking him in a stare. He raised his hand to your head, gathering your hair in his palm and wrapping it around his fist. Pulling your head back ever so slightly, the new leverage he had over you sent your head spinning.

“It had nothing to do with skill, beautiful.” He replied, giving you a soft smile. The small expression sent your stomach fluttering with nerves for a whole new reason, making you fear that it only took a single night for you to fall head over heels for him.

“Then what would you call it, darlin’?” You asked, your breath hitching in your throat as a wave of pleasure washed over you. Tightening his grip on your hair, he pulled your head back a little further as he leaned down, his lips settled just over your ear as his warm breath tickled your burning skin. You couldn’t help but arch your back further, feeling the curve of your ass fit nicely against the groove of his hip.

You wondered, if you weren’t meant to go home with him, why the hell did the two of you fit so perfectly together?

“How the hell were you supposed to win when you couldn’t keep your eyes off of me?” He asked, making your mouth run dry as the vibration of his words ran straight through you. Swallowing hard, you felt his teeth close around your earlobe, applying slight pressure and sending you over the edge.

Taking it upon yourself, you moved your head to the side against the strength of his hand, unable to resist as you pressed your lips against his own. The taste of him was intoxicating, even more so with the taste of you still lingering on his lips. You felt his tongue graze your skin, your heartbeat so agonizingly strong it was all you could hear. It was messy, heated, and perfectly fitting for the two of you thus far. You weren’t sure anything else would work. Two seemingly strong personalities with no intent to back down, it was a battle from the minute you locked eyes across the pool table, and you had no intent of stopping.

He continued to move inside of you, the feeling even more intense after your last orgasm, and you knew you weren’t far out from a second. The sharpness of his tongue, always having a comeback, and the witty yet playful nature of his responses did more for you than his hands or his mouth did. It was a struggle to find someone who balanced you out, which was a big reason why you neglected to give in to the other men who tried to do as he did that night. For some reason, you knew, without doubt, that Daniel was the type of person you had been looking for all along. Exciting, challenging, and fun, but still sweet and kind. You wondered why he picked you, a burn-out adrenaline junkie who only ever paid rent on a whim.

It was easy to ask why, but as he moved against you, the answer was right before your very eyes. The chemistry between you was undeniable, something that could not be faked, and something that could not be ignored. Some things are just right, no matter how hard you try to fight it, and as it seemed, the stars aligned perfectly for you without you even realizing it.

Breaking from the kiss, you tried to catch your breath, finding it difficult as he moved inside of you. The pleasure was undeniable, bordering on painful as your body begged him for more. More he could not give, and more you could not handle, but god you wanted it. Everything about him made you want more, even if it was an impossible task, and as you verged on the edge of a second orgasm, you knew letting him go wasn’t an option. Not only had he amazed you with his ability to beat you at your own game, but he amazed you in every other sense. Disappointment was a far away feeling when with him, and that was something you wanted to get used to.

“Fuck, Danny.” You whined, his face still close to yours. The words vibrated through both of you, the feeling of him pressed against you exhilarating as you stared that same innate desire in the eye.

“That’s it, baby. Tell me how good it feels.” His words forced the knot in your belly tighter, fraying and threatening as it pleaded with you to let go.

“You fill me so fucking good.” You confessed, your whole body covered in a sheen layer of sweat as you tried to keep up with him. “M’gonna cum.” You confessed, knowing that you couldn’t take it any longer. Your mascara was running down your cheeks, blazing red and warm. Your throat was raw, your body aching with need, and you knew he was the only answer.

“Cum for me, baby. Being such a good girl.” You gasped at the sound of the praise, washing over you like summer rain and coercing you to let go. “Show me how good I make you feel.”

That seemed to be all you needed to give in to the feeling, submitting to the torturous pressure as your posture faltered, leaving you a mess again underneath him. The pathetic cries falling from your lips coerced him to do the same, his hips faltering and his pace slowing as the pleasure took over. The two of you, finally giving in to what you wanted so badly, experiencing a euphoric high together. He spilled his release inside of you, the sensation drawing out your orgasm just a bit longer as your body begged you to draw in a breath. Keeping a slow roll of his hips, he ensured you got the most pleasure possible, only slowing to a stop when the curses falling from your lips turned into desperate cries, pleading for mercy.

Both of you drew in a ragged breath as your composure faltered, your body trying to relax against the couch as you attempted to come back to. Carefully, Danny withdrew from you, making sure you were alright before sitting next to you. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into him as he laid back against the arm, caring little for the mess and more about being near you.

The entire night had been a whirlwind of events, the adrenaline so high you barely had a moment to catch up with it. Laying there with him, silent and calm, you knew that what came before could not even compare to it. The strong arms holding you close, keeping you secure as you processed the rapid pace that led you there. You wondered, was it normal to feel so comfortable with someone you had just met? Was it normal to feel like you had known him your entire life?

You had let him in beyond what many others could comprehend, telling him about your father and allowing him to beat you at a game of pool, and not even that scared you. If anything, you were happy you did, and your only thought was when it could happen again. You wanted to keep getting to know him, to keep telling him things you never before cared to tell, and you wanted him to meet Izzy, because you knew she would love him. It was strange to be so open to letting someone in, but deep in your heart you felt it was the only thing you could do. Forcing him out seemed more painful than allowing him in.

“You okay, sharpshooter?” He asked, his voice so soft and different than it had been all night, so doting and caring. It was nice to be seen, nice to be known, and you wanted to know what it was like with him.

“Yeah, I’m good.” You nodded, smiling to yourself. “Just thinking.”

“About?” He chuckled, his long fingers toying with the ends of your hair. The slight tickle on your skin was soothing. You never wanted him to stop.

“You, I guess.” You shrugged. “I guess this means I lost out on backstage passes.” Laughing to himself, he raised a free hand to your face, turning your head to look at him. He admired you for a moment, the redness of your cheeks and the shine of your eyes, finding himself feeling all the same ways.

“I’m sure we could work something out.” He assured you, swiping away flecks of fallen mascara with his thumb.

“Guess that would mean I didn’t earn it.” You teased, exhausted yet still energized by his company. A blinding smile on his face, you couldn’t help but notice the tugging of your heartstrings.

“So, what? You want a rematch?” He raised an eyebrow, wondering if that’s really what you were asking of him.

“I guess so.” You shrugged, giggling to yourself as you stared up at his beautiful face. “Unless you’re scared it was beginners luck?”

“No, not scared.” He reiterated his earlier claim, his thumb still tracing your cheek. “You think you can handle the stakes?”

“I think I could manage.” You nodded, the same stupid smile still pulling your lips. It seemed permanent so long as he was around. “I suppose losing isn’t all that bad… especially if it’s to the right person.”

Against everything you ever believed, you knew for a fact the loss resulted in a bigger gain than ever before, and you would do it again in a heartbeat if it meant he was the prize.

[readyforthegarden]

oh to take a shot with backwards hat danny 😩

[gvf23]

Why have I never seen these before? He looks so good 😭

Credit to owner

Found on Pinterest

[ghostly-personn]

WHAT THE FUCK DANIEL

[luagvf]

Can we talk about this

[hailthegodsong]

LOVE IS OLD, LOVE IS NEW

Two-Shot Part 1 ~ Daniel Wagner / Female Reader 𓅪

Word Count: + 10.6k

AN: This is a comfort fic! Danny is not the cheater! This fic changed a lot from when I started writing it to when it ended, so I hope you enjoy wherever my mind went while I wrote this…

Content Warnings: Hurt/comfort heartbreak, crying, cheating, insecurity, nudity, deprecating thoughts, intense sadness, self-isolation, boner, mentions of sexual situations, lots of skin touching including breasts (but in a non-sexual way), love confessions, mentions of sex, considerate Danny.

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“You alright?” Danny asked, pausing the movement of his fingers and ripping his intense attention from the melodic chords he had been working on, letting his acoustic guitar falter in his hands.

You looked up from your phone, “What? Oh, yeah, fine.”

You weren’t really fine. It was your boyfriend, Otis’s birthday, and you hadn’t been able to get a hold of him all day. You swiped through your text chain, seeing that your message at 7am wishing him a happy birthday was followed by an embarrassing amount of messages almost once an hour asking what he was doing, how he was doing, and if he was okay.

You had grown unbelievably restless, your anxiety bordering between genuine concern for his well being, and fear that he was shutting you out for some reason.

Though, this wasn’t completely unusual for Otis. He had always been distant, emotionally elusive in a way that left you second guessing your every move. Sometimes, he would go an entire day without a word, shutting down for reasons you could never quite figure out. You attributed it to the way he must’ve been raised, but often, and without warning, he would go into a mood. You had tried to understand, tried to make excuses for it. Maybe he just needed space. Maybe you were overreacting.

It was terribly confusing, but you’d grown used to it, trying your hardest to take note of anything that may be a consistent trigger in his moods.

Danny, who was by far your closest friend, did not approve of his behaviour at all. In fact, he didn’t approve of Otis full stop. You had grown up together, graduated together, and were now splitting the rent of some small, shitty apartment in Nashville together, and it was hard for you to conceal the faults in your relationship when Danny seemed to always be there.

“You sure? You’ve been staring at that phone all afternoon,” he argued pointedly.

You huffed and ran a hand down the side of your face, “It’s just Otis…it’s his birthday but he hasn’t texted me back all day.” You paused, and Danny set his guitar down, its neck leaning against the arm of the couch you were both seated on. “I’m getting kinda worried,” you added.

Danny’s jaw tightened at the mention of Otis, a familiar tension brewing in his stance. You knew what he thought of your boyfriend, he had never been shy about it. As your best friend since childhood, Danny had always been protective of you, and he couldn’t stand how Otis treated you. To Danny, Otis was an undeserving ghost, always there, but never really present.

But it wasn’t as if Otis treated you poorly. No, you wouldn’t be dating him if he was. He just was a bit flaky sometimes- physically and emotionally.

Danny’s brows furrowed, “That is weird. Maybe he’s just busy with friends or something?” he suggested.

You shook your head, “No, he told me he was celebrating with them on the weekend. Told me he would see me today too,” you said anxiously, biting at the corners of your nails.

“Stop that,” Danny warned, pulling your hands away from your mouth.

It was a habit you seemed to have only picked up only recently, and Danny was always quick to stop it as soon as he saw you begin to nibble at the uneven edges of the nail.

“You’re right, ‘s a bit worrying. I would be pretty worried as well. Did he go out last night?” Danny asked.

“No.” You were beginning to feel more and more nervous, anxiety flooding through your body as you wondered what was going on.

You suddenly stood, “I think I’m gonna go over to his place. Maybe he’s just been sleeping all day.”

Danny glanced at his watch and grimaced when he saw that it was 5pm. He refrained from telling you he highly doubted it, not wanting to worry you any further.

“Shit,” you cursed as you looked out the window and saw that it was absolutely pouring with rain. You hurried to your bedroom to find a raincoat.

“Let me drive you,” Danny suggested, his voice now coming from his own room as he grabbed himself a sweater. You both emerged from your rooms and met in the hallway, and before you could protest he added, “Please. I don’t feel good knowing you’re driving in this weather.”

You scoffed, “Underestimating my driving skills, Wagner?” You carried the gifts you had bought Otis, including the bouquet of flowers into the living room with you and placed them on the table next to your handbag.

“Maybe,” Danny teased and you rolled your eyes at him playfully.

It took less than five minutes to gather your things. The bouquet of flowers, a few small wrapped gifts, and your handbag. Once you had hastily gotten your things in order, Danny grabbed his car keys off the table and opened the front door for you.

“Need me to hold anything?” he asked, watching in amusement as you fumbled with the flowers, presents, your bag and your phone.

You laughed, “Yes please.”

He took the flowers and a few gifts from your arms and you both descended the long, winding stairs wordlessly until you were in the shared car park.

“I’m sure it’s all fine,” Danny assured he held the door open for you to get into the car.

“Yeah me too. Just really wanna see him, you know?” You immediately regretted saying it once the words left your mouth.

You usually tried to keep the Otis conversation minimal with Danny, knowing that he didn’t really like him. Danny hummed anyway, despite his disagreement, and started the car before reversing out of the garage. He handed you your favourite Beatles CD for you to put into the stereo while he drove, and you felt overwhelmingly appreciative of his attentiveness.

You wanted to believe that nothing was wrong, and that Otis just hadn't had a chance to look at his phone yet. But with each mile closer to Otis’s apartment, the pit in your stomach grew heavier, and the knot in your chest tighter. Each time you checked your phone, there was no new message. No missed calls. Nothing.

Throughout the drive, it was clear to you that Danny was trying his hardest to keep you from overthinking. You felt like he didn’t stop talking for the majority of the ride, telling you about the latest disagreement between Josh and Jake and how he, like usual, had to save the day with his mediation skills. He managed to make you laugh too, always knowing just what you needed when you weren’t feeling your absolute best.

You had to direct Danny the way there, which was quite difficult thanks to the bucketing rain that restricted visibility of anything twenty metres in front of you. 

Eventually you made it to his apartment, and Danny pulled over on the side of the road to drop you off, seeing as there was no carpark for him to stop in.

“Alright, be safe please. Text if you need anything,” Danny recited, the words he told you each time you parted. It had been that way since you could remember.

“I will! Thanks for the lift!”

Balancing your things in your arms, you quickly jumped out of the car to not hold up and more traffic.

Danny drove off when one of the impatient cars behind him gave him a beep for taking so long. You rushed up to Otis’s apartment building front door, bullets of rain almost soaking you completely as you covered the short distance.

Your shoes splashed heavily on the street which had become one big puddle. You sighed when you finally reached the building, protected from the rain by the large overhang that wrapped around the large building.

As you made your way into the apartment and climbed the levels to his, you glanced at your phone once more to check if he had messaged you, and frowned when there was nothing. A little puffed, you finally reached his unit. Before you knocked, you peeked a glance at the crack at the bottom of the door where a light was beaming through. So he was home.

You bit back a shiver as you raised your hand and pressed the doorbell. You always liked the tune Otis’s doorbell made. It was quite unconventional, not the normal tune they made and not a jarring ring either, but a nice melody all the same.

You hugged yourself tightly in the cold as you awaited a response, and when you didn’t get one, you rang the doorbell again. Finally, the front door swung open, and you were met with Otis, his slim figure on full display as only a pair of white and blue striped boxers hung low on his hips.

You smiled brightly, despite his state of undress and the fact that he had neglected speaking to you all day. “Happy birthday!” you exclaimed.

He shot you a quick, tight smile, before his face turned serious, eyes scanning the scene behind you. “Thank you Baby, but uh… what are you doing here?” he asked.

You faltered, “What do you mean?”

He looked at you as if you had done something ridiculous, “Well we didn’t plan anything. I hadn’t exactly said you could come over.”

You took a step back into the hallway, “Oh, I just thought that…”

You were mortified. But you were also incredibly upset. It was his birthday, but you had still felt some kind of obligation that he at least see you on the special day. He was your boyfriend after all.

“I got worried. You weren’t responding,” you explained, feeling a deep set frown fall to your face.

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, and you suddenly became very aware of his positioning. He was standing in the doorway, hands on either side of the frame and letting the door hang almost closed behind him while he stepped marginally closer in each moment and effectively backed you further away from the entrance.

“Yeah well, I just got caught up in something.”

Just as you were about to ask what, a slender hand, adorning deep red acrylic nails raked across his bare abdomen.

“Baby, what’s taking you so long?” a sultry voice asked, and you could see longer dark hair peeking behind his body.

Unable to believe your eyes, your mouth parted in silent shock, face dropping in realisation, and you peered over his shoulder to see the most beautiful woman you had ever seen, clad in only her underwear behind him.

Blinking, you watched as his face morphed into course red embarrassment, and his eyes widened in fear.

“Oh,” you stated.

“No Baby, it’s not what it-” he started, moving towards you to take your arm.

“Stop it. Don’t,” you shook his hands off you, “Don’t touch me.”

Tears instantly welled in your eyes and the lump in your throat felt like it was going to choke you.

“Wha- why?” you managed to choke out. He looked at you sympathetically, but before he could open his mouth, the woman behind him appeared at his side.

If you thought her face was gorgeous, her body was bound to make you pass out. Her breasts were full and round, and her slim, toned waist was a beautiful compliment. Her hips widened at just the right spot, and were void of dips or stretch marks, and it suddenly became glaringly obvious to you where everything had gone wrong.

She gave you a harsh look up and down, assessing your clothing and you could only assume your body. Your arms crossed over your front in insecurely, now regretting the old coat, faded jeans and casual shoes you had thrown on in your state of worry and anticipation.

You hiccuped a sob back when she placed a hand on his chest and leaned up to whisper something in his ear. Otis, to his credit, looked wildly uncomfortable by her actions and tried to shrug her off, looking at you pleadingly.

You couldn’t see any more. You couldn’t stand there for another second longer or you were going to explode.

You wished you were more angry. You should have been furious, yelling at him and ripping your keys out to key his car. But instead, you felt a deep pit of sadness in your belly. The type of pit that drags everything down with it. The type of pit that consumes all it can from its host just to continue its relentless torment.

You needed to get the fuck out of there.

Breathing turned shakey, you turned and walked so quickly down the hallway that you thought you were going to pull a hamstring.

Otis called your name from behind you, and you thanked the Gods that he was too naked to follow you. You descended the stairs in a daze, hot tears running down your cheeks, but you were too focused on getting out that you knew you needed to hold them back.

Once you made it to the building's exit, you realised that you were still cradling the birthday presents you had bought him. In an act of anger, you stormed out of the complex and threw them in a heap onto the grass beside the door, letting all the money you had wasted on him get destroyed under the unforgiving downpour of rain.

Then you realised you were also in the rain. And you were getting soaked. You quickly pulled your phone out and pulled up Danny’s contact to call him.

Restricted sobs began to shake your body, and you were having an incredibly hard time maintaining your composure, if you could even call it that anymore.

The phone only rang twice before Danny’s voice spoke through the speakers.

“Hey, what’s up,” he answered casually. You could hear his car keys hitting the little key bowl you had by the front door, indicating he had quite literally just gotten home, making you feel even worse about asking him to come and pick you up.

He called your name in question when you didn’t respond.

“Did you- did you just get home?” you asked, trying feebly to conceal the emotion in your voice, but the sobs and sharp inhales did close to nothing in helping.

“Fuck, are you okay? What’s happened? What’s wrong?” he asked frantically, and you could hear the keys jingle again, accompanied by the front door slamming shut.

“I’m,” you tried to say through broken sobs, “I’m okay. I just need- can you come and pick me up? Ple- please?”

“I’m already on my way.” True to his word, you could hear the engine vibrating in the background of the call. “Please tell me what happened. Are you safe?” he asked frantically.

You nodded, before realising that he couldn’t actually see you, “I’m- I’m okay. Just cold,” you began scanning the area, looking for a spot you could stand that was concealed from the rain.

There was no way you were going back inside the complex building, and you quickly realised that your best bet was a tree nearby. You hastily made your way over, sneakers getting ruined in the dirt, each step accompanied by a squelch. The rain wasn’t as relentless under the cover in the tree, but thick drops still fell and coated your skin, hair and clothes. You were shivering violently now, wondering why on earth you hadn’t brought an umbrella.

"Where are you?" Danny's voice was soft but laced with concern.

"Same place you dropped me off," you muttered, feeling the hot flush of embarrassment rise to your cheeks. It wasn't hard to guess that Danny probably knew something had gone wrong with Otis. But you could bet he'd never imagine the full extent of it.

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and you could sense Danny was biting his tongue, holding back from asking the questions swirling in his mind. He knew better than to press you when you were like this, though. Whatever had happened, it wasn't good. That much was obvious.

"Okay, honey, I’m nearly there. Can you try taking some deep breaths while you wait for me, please?" His voice was steady, trying to ground you through the phone. It was only then that you became aware of the sound of your own ragged, gasping sobs.

"Ye-yes... okay." You forced yourself to breathe deeply, letting the air fill your lungs, but each inhale felt heavy, the weight of your chest pressing down harder with every beat of your racing heart. You tried to follow Danny's request, but every time your pulse began to slow, your mind betrayed you. You couldn't stop the image from flashing in your head, those sharp red acrylic nails raking across his chest.

Your stomach churned, nausea rising as you cursed your vivid imagination. What would those hands look like wrapped around his neck, or worse, holding his hand? What would those nails look like tracing against his skin, trailing down his back in the heat of the moment as she whispered his name in his ear? The thought made your blood run cold, and tears welled up in your eyes once again.

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the thoughts to vanish. But they clung to you, persistent and cruel, reminding you of everything you were afraid to face. It wasn’t just the physical imagery, either. It was the emotional betrayal of the way his eyes might soften when he looked at her, the way he might laugh at her jokes. She probably made him feel something you couldn’t. And he had probably been slipping away for quite some time.

A broken sob escaped your lips, and you clenched your fists at your sides, wishing you could stop thinking about it, wishing you could stop hurting. You knew Danny was close, but the minutes felt like hours. You hated how powerless you felt, sitting there, cold and waiting, suffocated by your own thoughts.

“It’s okay. Whatever it is it’s okay it’ll be okay. I’m nearly there, just hang on a little longer for me, okay?” Danny repeated, hearing your breathing pick up again.

You crouched on the dirt to hug some warmth into you, humming in response to his question. “Danny, can you- can you put the heat on in the car… please. I’m really cold,” you asked and you immediately heard him shuffle with the knobs on the dashboard.

“Are you- are you in the rain?” he asked with urgency.

“I was… I’m standing under a tree now.”

He sighed, “Okay I’m rounding the corner now, can you see me?” he asked and you looked up at the road. True to his word, you could see his black car nearing you as it sped down the road.

“Yes.” You got up and quickly walked to the edge of the street. The rain soaked you again, and you abandoned even attempting to cover your head from its assault.

He pulled up to you at record breaking speed, and breaked harshly beside you on the road. You swung the door open and practically fell into the passenger seat, being immediately engulfed by the warmth of the car.

You slammed the door shut, and muttered a small ‘sorry’ through your shudders as you did up your seat belt.

Being a busy street, Danny had to take off as soon as you were buckled up, and you looked down at the water dripping off your shoes into the car.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he commented, as you tried to take off your top jacket to avoid completely soaking his seats. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologised, trying to keep your back from the seat to not soak the interior of his car. He had already given you a lift to and from Otis’s house, and the least you could do was not ruin his car in the process. You were trying your hardest to withhold the sobs, but hot tears mixed with the wetness of your face as the lump in your throat began to burn.

“Honey…” Danny comforted when he saw your emotional state. He found the closest quiet street and pulled over on the side of the road. 

As soon as the handbrake was on and the car was in neutral, Danny turned to you, clipping off his seatbelt to reach you better. He reached to unclip your seatbelt too, and without hesitation, he pulled you into his arms. 

Though it had been steadily trickling since you left Otis’s house, the dam completely broke when you felt the familiar and comforting embrace of Danny. He rubbed soothing strokes up and down your soaked back with a soft flat palm, his hand shuddering against each shaky breath you took. 

“Are you hurt? I need to know you’re okay, physically,” he asked, still keeping you tight in his arms. 

“I’m not hurt. I’m okay,” you sobbed, clutching at his shirt behind his back. 

“Shhh,” he cooed as your sobs continued, “What’s going on? What happened?”

You pulled away from him, slipping back into your seat and wiping furiously at your red and wet eyes. “There was,” you shuddered, “There was a woman,” you explained, eyes now trained on the window wipers that feebly tried to push away the waves of water that fell from the sky, “They were both naked.”

“What?” The volume of his voice was jarring in the otherwise silence of the car. You dared not speak, feeling embarrassed and ashamed. Danny had warned you that Otis wasn’t a good person, but you had ignored him, and you were now putting the weighted burden of your mistake on his shoulders. 

Danny ran a frustrated hand through his hair and you kept your eyes before you, silent tears now running down your cheeks. 

“She’s really pretty,” you added, and Danny eyed you carefully. He stared at you for a long time, as if trying to see through your skin and into your brain to read every thought that was running through your mind. When he couldn't find anything other than self-loathing and depreciation, he ran a hand through his hair. 

“I- fuck I don’t even know what to say. I’m so sorry.” 

You shook in the cold as you stared out the window, unspeaking as silent tears rolled down your cheeks. When he realised you weren’t going to respond, he turned in his seat again and popped the car back into gear before he continued the drive home. He was watching your body shake violently from the cold and knew that as much as he wanted to hold you until you were better, you needed to get out of your wet clothes and into something warm and dry.

“Don't do that,” Danny said, pulling your thumb away from your mouth as you attacked the skin around it. 

“‘M sorry,” you muttered with a sniffle, pulling your hands to your lap and fiddling with your fingers instead. 

“Don’t need to apologise.”

You were quiet for the rest of the ride. You replayed the moment over and over in your mind, looking back on how he had blatantly told you that he didn't want you there, that you weren’t invited. All because there was another woman. Had she always been there? Was she just a one night stand or had he been cheating on you for longer?

Danny bit his cheek each time he heard you sniffle, every small sound cutting through him like a knife. He glanced over at you, watching as you hastily wiped your eyes, your fingers trembling with the effort of holding yourself together. The sight of you in pain made his chest ache, and every time your hand darted up to your face, he wished he could reach out, pull you close, and wipe your tears away for you. But he didn’t want to push, didn’t want to smother you when you were clearly teetering on the edge.

His fingers tightened around the steering wheel as he navigated the darkening streets, the quiet hum of the car engine doing nothing to soothe the thick tension in the air. You sat next to him, staring out the window, barely moving, but he could see the steady stream of tears that continued to roll down your cheeks. They glistened in the streetlights as you passed them, and he wanted to say something, anything, but he knew no words could fix what you were feeling.

The ride home felt agonisingly long, each second dragging on as Danny tried to focus on the road and not the heart-wrenching sight of you unravelling beside him. He kept biting his cheek, hard enough to taste blood now, but he couldn’t stop himself from glancing over at you every few seconds, praying you’d somehow find a little bit of peace before they made it home.

When Danny finally rolled into the parking spot, the familiarity of your apartment complex looming ahead caused the tears that had slowed for a brief moment on the drive started to pour again, the sight of home making everything worse. The thought of being so close to your bed, to the space where you could collapse and let yourself fully break was overwhelming.

Your breath hitched, and you hugged your arms around yourself, trying to stop the shivering that had taken over your body. The cold had seeped into your bones, making you shake uncontrollably, but you couldn’t tell if it was from the freezing rain that had soaked through your clothes or the sadness that seemed to settle deep in your chest.

Danny killed the engine and turned to you, eyes soft and full of worry. “Let’s get you inside, okay?” His voice was gentle, but the concern was clear. He didn’t wait for you to respond, opening his door quickly and jogging around to your side, pulling open the passenger door.

“Come on, I’ve got you,” he murmured, offering his hand to help you out of the car. You hesitated for just a second, but the exhaustion in your body won out, and you took his hand, letting him guide you. As you stepped out, your legs wobbled beneath you, and without a second thought, Danny wrapped his arm around you, pulling you into his side.

You leaned against him, your sobs becoming louder now that you were out of the confined space of the car. His warmth was comforting, but it wasn’t enough to stop the tidal wave of emotion that had hit you. As he helped you up the steps to the apartment, you clung to his sweater, your cold fingers digging into the fabric as if you could hold onto him and stop yourself from spiralling.

Each step felt heavy, the weight of your sadness pressing down on you like a physical force, and you stumbled a little as you climbed. Danny tightened his grip on you, steadying you with every step, whispering quiet reassurances even though he wasn’t sure you could hear them over the sound of your own sobbing.

You weren’t crying for any reason now, yet it felt like your emotional capacity was a heavy ball that had been pushed off a hill. Once it started rolling, you couldn't stop. 

Once inside, the warmth of the apartment hit you, but it did nothing to thaw the ice in your bones. You barely registered Danny closing the door behind you, his arm still around your shoulders as he led you deeper into your apartment. Despite his support, your mind had already begun its familiar descent into destructive thoughts. If Otis didn’t want you, then who would? The rejection felt like a punch to the gut, and the more you thought about it, the more it hurt.

Without a word, you pulled away from Danny, feeling the loss of his warmth immediately but ignoring it as you left him standing in the middle of the living room alone. You made a beeline for your bedroom, your body moving on autopilot. The door clicked shut behind you, and even though there wasn’t a lock, you knew Danny wouldn’t come in. He respected your space, your boundaries, but that knowledge only made the ache in your chest deepen. The loneliness pressed in harder, suffocating.

Inside the sanctuary of your room, you didn’t care that you were drenched to the bone, or that your clothes clinging to your body uncomfortably. The cold had long since numbed your skin, and now it was creeping into your muscles, making your limbs ache with a dull, persistent throb. You shivered violently, your teeth chattering so hard they ached, but it was a distant sensation compared to the emotional storm raging inside you.

You toed off your soaked shoes, not even bothering to untie them properly. Normally, the thought of tracking dirt or water onto your bed would have horrified you as your bed was your sacred space, always spotless, always prepared for sleep in clean pyjamas after a long shower. But tonight, none of that mattered. Your mind was too far gone, too consumed by the thoughts that swirled around relentlessly.

You crawled onto the bed without a second thought, the damp sheets immediately sticking to your wet clothes. The fabric clung to your skin, cold and uncomfortable, but it didn’t register. All you could think about was curling into the tightest ball possible, as if making yourself small enough would somehow make the pain disappear.

The sobs wracked your body violently, each one more painful than the last. You pressed your face into the pillow, muffling the sound, but it didn’t stop the flood of tears from soaking the fabric. Your whole body trembled, not just from the cold, but from the anguish that had taken over.

And still, despite the physical discomfort, despite the relentless sobbing, your mind couldn’t stop fixating on Otis. You kept replaying every word he’d said, every look, every action that made you feel like you weren’t enough. You kept thinking about how he didn’t want you, how he didn’t choose you. That gut wrenching feeling of rejection echoed through you like a broken record, and no matter how much you tried to push it away, it lingered.

But it wasn't the loss of Otis that hurt you so much as the feeling of being left behind for someone better. Your self esteem had plummeted, all feelings of security and trust torn apart with no remorse. 

Minutes passed, maybe longer, until you were dimly aware of the soft knock on your door, Danny’s voice drifting through the wood gently.

"Hey… I'm just gonna leave some dry clothes outside your door, okay?" he said, his voice calm but clearly worried. You didn’t respond, too lost in the flood of emotions, but you heard him shuffle around outside before retreating.

A little while later, Danny returned, seeing the pile of clothes left outside untouched. He called your name gently with a brush of his knuckles against the wood, “Can I come in?” he asked cautiously. 

“No,” you called out, muffled in the pillows your face was buried in. 

He hesitated in the silence. “I don’t— I think you need to get out of your wet clothes,” he commented, voice still quiet behind the door. “You might get sick.”

“Don’t tell me what to do. I’m an adult, I’ll do what I want,” you snapped. 

You had no idea where that outburst had come from. You immediately felt guilty as you imagined how Danny would have recoiled at your words and tone of voice. It was glaringly obvious to both you and Danny that you were only acting hostile as a way to protect yourself. Protect the fragile feeling of trust you had so carefully maintained throughout your life.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that… you can come in,” you said so quietly, that Danny may not have even heard you. 

Though with heavy caution, Danny reached down to twist the handle. He knew you didn't mean what you were saying. You were hurt, and had been betrayed in arguably the worst way someone could be. He knew you just needed someone to be in your corner. 

You didn't dare look behind you at Danny as he entered your room, and instead kept your head buried in your pillows. 

“Hey,” he whispered, and you felt the edge of your bed dip as he sat down. He reached out hesitantly, and put his warm palm on your bare arm. He flinched the feeling of your skin, chilled from your still soaked clothes. “Shit, you’re freezing,” he commented. 

With your back still turned, you stared blankly into the plush pillows in front of you, your eyes fixated on the growing wet stain spreading across the fabric. You couldn’t distinguish if it was from your soaked hair or the relentless flow of tears that you had cried. Your pillowcase, usually soft and comforting, now felt cold and uninviting, just another reminder of the misery that clung to you like the dampness in your clothes.

Your chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, each one laboured as you tried to suppress the sobs that threatened to rise again. The wet patch in front of you seemed to expand with every tear, but you couldn’t muster the energy to wipe your face or even shift positions. 

Everything felt heavy. Your body, your heart, your thoughts. It was as though the weight of everything Otis had said, everything you felt, was sinking into that single spot on the pillow, and no matter how long you stared, it wouldn’t disappear.

“Hey,” he carefully pulled you away from your thoughts. Sniffling, you rolled over to face him, and his heart ached at the sight of you. Eyes and lips swollen, red and raw from your crying, and incessant rubbing. 

“Will you please change into something warmer?” he asked, eyes soft and genuine as he stared at you, his thumb stroking against the cold skin of your arm, “I can help you if you need,” he added. You sighed, hard and long before pushing yourself up from your bed into a sitting position. 

“Fuckkk,” you groaned, letting your head fall into your hands as you groaned, “This is such a mess.”

You looked back up again, assessing the damage you had done to your bed, which carried the consequences of you collapsing in it while still wet. Danny got up quickly, taking the clothes he had left for you outside of your bedroom door and bringing them to you at the bed. 

“I think a warm shower would do you good,” he suggested, “It’ll help you warm up quicker.” The thought of the warm water pouring over your tired and cold muscles seemed like heaven, but now that he was here, you didn't want Danny to leave. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” you agreed, moving to get up from your bed. Danny rushed out of your bedroom and searched through your shared hallway cupboard for the softest towel he could find. 

He watched as you slowly emerged from your bedroom, posture slumped and insecure, arms wrapped securely around your body. Your jeans and top clung to your body tightly from the slick, and your hair left a wet residue on your neck. 

“I can put the towel in the dryer for you while you shower. That way when you get out it’ll be nice and warm,” he suggested. His attention to detail made you smile. 

Though his offer was kind, you knew what you wanted more than a warm towel. The thought that came into your mind was absurd, and could very possibly make Danny uncomfortable by crossing the boundaries of your friendship that you had both treaded in all those years. But you didn’t want— you couldn’t be left alone, or you feared you would curl up onto the cold tile floors and cry until you died. 

“What's up?” he asked, hand raising to the side of your face to thumb away the remaining tears left on your cheeks. You glanced up at him shyly, trying to reign the confidence to ask him the question.

He frowned at the look of conflict on your face as you debated with yourself, “Hey. Whatever it is, you can tell me. You can tell me anything, you know that,” he offered with a kind smile. That same smile that had dried your tears too many times over the years, “‘S only me.”

You took a deep breath, “I just… I don’t know how to say this. I don’t want you to leave me alone. I want— I’m scared of being left alone again,” you admitted though still skirting around the truth of your sudden discomfort. 

“I won't ever leave you alone, you know that. I’m always here for you,” he comforted, stroking your wet hair away from your face in a way that felt so intimate, so domestic, that you nearly began to cry again. 

“That’s not… that’s not what I mean.” You took a deep, steadying breath, “Will— um, will you come with me?” you added in a mumble, cheeks heating at your question. 

He cocked his head in confusion, “Come with you where?” 

You swallowed thickly in embarrassment, physically unable to say the words. You were ready to dismiss it, and tell him it didn't matter when realisation struck his face. 

“You mean… come with you to shower?” he asked quietly, surprise reigning his features at your admittance. 

You were a fool. You had just ruined the relationship you had with your boyfriend, and you were already on track to do the same with your best friend.

“I— I’m so sorry. I don’t even know why I suggested that, seriously, just forget it, I—”

“No, no, stop. I… I’m happy to… if uh, if that’s what you need,” Danny answered, his heart thumping in his chest at your suggestion. This was a boundary that neither of you had ever crossed. Sure you had seen each other close to nakedness before, but only by pure accident or in the form of skimpy swimwear. 

Both of you knew that doing this was different. Even suggesting it had changed something between the two of you, and it had brought to life the truth that you had both been hiding beneath platonic smiles for your whole lives.

You couldn't look at him, and instead looked at the towel he held tightly in his hands, “Are you sure?” you asked quietly. 

Jaw tight and eyes cautious, he nodded silently. “You go and get started, and I’ll uh, join you in a minute, okay?” he suggested and you tucked a tuft of hair behind your ear. 

“Okay,” you whispered. As you turned to walk away, nerves swelling in your stomach at your decision, Danny cleared his throat again. 

"Are you... do you want me to keep my... um, boxers on?" Danny’s voice was as gentle as ever, like slow dripping honey that coated each word with the tenderness you had come to depend on. It was just Danny, always so considerate, always thinking of how to make you feel comfortable, especially in moments as vulnerable as this.

The question, though spoken with the utmost care, still startled you. Your heart skipped, and you felt a small flutter of uncertainty rise in your chest. You feared that whatever answer you gave might lead to discomfort, but there was a deep, aching need inside you to be close to him. Closer than you had ever been before. Something unspoken tugged at you, a silent yearning to connect with him in a way that transcended the physical.

"If you want. But I don't mind if you don't," you murmured, your voice softer than you intended, as if afraid the wrong words might break the fragile atmosphere.

Before he could respond, you turned and made your way down the hallway to the bathroom, the soft patter of your footsteps against the floor the only sound echoing in the quiet apartment. You gently swung the bathroom door shut, leaving it ajar just enough to let him know that he was welcome. You twisted the shower tap, letting the heavy stream of hot water fill the shower, the sound of it pounding against the tile, a soothing background hum that drowned out the noise in your mind.

Your clothes clung stubbornly to your body as you peeled them off, each article of fabric a reminder of the evening's cold and the emotions that had seeped into your bones. The chill in the air bit at your exposed skin, and a violent shiver wracked your body, leaving you trembling as you stood naked in the dim bathroom. You barely spared a glance in the mirror, catching only a fleeting, distorted reflection of yourself, a body that tonight, felt uglier than it ever had. The blotchy redness from your sobs clashed with the paleness of your cold skin, and you looked away quickly, unable to face the image.

Stepping into the shower, you sighed deeply as the hot water cascaded over your head, the sensation washing away the lingering chill. It was a simple pleasure, the heat sinking into your scalp, down your neck, and through your entire body. You tipped your head back, allowing the water to flow over your face, burning just enough to be distracting, before it slid down your shoulders and over the curve of your breasts. For a brief, blissful moment, you forgot about Otis, the heartbreak, the insecurity, everything.

Danny's soft footsteps padding into the bathroom snapped you back to reality, and your heart gave a nervous flutter as you saw his silhouette through the thin shower curtain. You turned your back to him, yet could still feel his presence as he shuffled with his things by the countertop, your senses heightened by the silence in the room. As he approached, the shower curtain shifted slightly, letting in a sliver of cool air that made you shiver again, but this time not entirely from the cold.

Wordlessly, you stepped forward, making room for him under the stream of water, and you heard his deep, contented exhale as the warmth enveloped him. You felt a shy smile tug at your lips, though you didn’t dare turn around. The thought of exposing yourself fully to him was daunting, even though you had never felt safer with anyone else.

Reaching up, you grabbed the bottle of vanilla shampoo, your fingers trembling slightly as you struggled to maintain your composure. But before you could open the bottle, you felt Danny’s warmth behind you, not close enough to touch, but enough for you to feel his steady, comforting force and hot, heavy breath by your ear. He reached over your shoulder, his hand brushing yours as he gently took the bottle from you. The touch was brief, but electric, sending a ripple of warmth through your chest.

"Let me," he offered, his breath tickling the skin beside your ear. The shampoo bottle clicked open, the scent of vanilla filling the air as Danny lathered up the shampoo by rubbing it between his large hands.

You stood still, your heart pounding in your chest as his hands moved to your head, slowly threading into your locks and pressing to your scalp. His fingers were strong but somehow gentle as ever, working the shampoo into your scalp in slow, deliberate motions, in a way that made your knees weak. You let out a whispered groan, the sound escaping before you could stop it as your body relaxed under his touch.

You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch as he continued to wash your hair. His fingers traced soothing patterns against your scalp, moving with such care that you felt your chest ache with emotion. This wasn’t just an act of kindness. It was love. Pure, unspoken, and unconditional.

This was no longer just about getting clean either, you realised; this was something else entirely. The both of you, stood there, completely exposed, completely vulnerable, and yet there was no awkwardness and no sense of pressure or expectation. It wasn’t sexual, but it wasn’t entirely platonic either. It was something deeper, something built on years of quiet affection, of love that had been waiting patiently for the right moment to reveal itself.

He soon rinsed his hands under the water, and touched your shoulder gently as he pulled you back under the stream. He aided with washing the shampoo out of your hair with his hands, running through your scalp and squeezing at your hair as the soapy suds travelled down your hair and down to his feet. 

You had completely forgotten about Otis, you realised, as Danny reached up to grab the bottle of conditioner, doing the same as before but only raking the product through the ends of your hair. 

Your breathing was heavy, and you suddenly felt the urge to cry again, but not out of sadness this time. You turned around to face him, feeling no insecurity over the exposure of your bare body when his burning gaze remained on your face. 

“Danny…” you started, frowning at the overwhelming feeling of your new realisation. Your face told him everything he needed to know, eyebrows pinched in desperation, and tears brimming at your eyes.

To your lack of knowledge, Danny had always felt a way for you that he shouldn’t have, loving you silently in the shadows under platonic guise. After years of yearning, only now did he see that you could finally feel it too. Be it only an inkling of affection, it was enough to make his heart skip.

He reached up and cupped your cheek, “I know, sweet girl.” He nodded, his thumb stroking the apple of your cheek lovingly, and you leaned into his touch. When he let go, you dropped your head, hanging it low between your bodies, your eyes closed in exhaustion. 

Danny stepped forward slowly, his feet splashing against the pool of water at your feet, and he engulfed you in the embrace of his long arms. Your head fell into the spot between his arm and chest, and that same arm came up to cradle your head. You could feel his other bare arm on your back, your breasts pressed against his chest and you flushed at the proximity. 

You desperately tried to hold him too, arms wrapped around his abdomen and folded up to hook your hands over his shoulders. You didn't notice the tears that flowed from your eyes, as they became one with the water that flowed between you both. 

“Danny,” you whispered. He nuzzled into your hair, a comforting gesture that made your heart race. 

“Hmm?” he replied softly, encouraging you to continue. The moment hung heavy in the air, filled with unspoken feelings. 

The feeling was so overwhelming, that you realised you could no longer pretend to be just friends, as the desire to love him loudly completely consumed you. 

Finally, you spoke, your confession bursting forth like a long held secret, “I think I love you.” The words tumbled out, raw and unfiltered, a rush of emotion that felt both exhilarating and terrifying. 

You felt his stomach tighten at your words, and he pulled back slightly to gaze down at you. You raised your head from his chest to meet his eyes to see them pleading in wonder. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. For so long, he had admired the beauty of your soul in silence, waited in suppressed agony, fearing that revealing his feelings would push you away. Your company was always enough for him to keep his feelings hidden, as just being near you to hear your laughter, your mind and your soul, had been more than enough. 

But now, you were uttering the words he had dreamt of telling you for what felt like his whole life. 

“Always,” he whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. His sincerity washed over you like a warm embrace. He tucked your wet hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing your skin gently. “I always have.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief, searching his for confirmation. “What?” you managed to ask, your voice breaking. Instead of answering, Danny leaned down, closing the distance between you, and held his face close to yours. He lingered for a moment, as if giving you time to pull away, before he brought his lips to yours in a gentle caress.

His lips were soft and slow against yours, hesitant and testing at the new sensation. Neither of you could believe what was happening, and you marvelled at the intimacy of the moment, the tenderness. Never would you have thought this would be how you ended up, and now that it was happening, there was no going back. 

Danny's hands rested hesitantly beside you, ghosting your skin as he resisted the urge to touch you, as he was painfully aware of your state of undress and didn't want to cross any boundaries. You took them into your own hands, and pulled them to rest on the sides of your waist. He gripped the skin softly at the sensation. 

Your mouths explored each other, and you reached your hands up to tangle in his hair as you revelled in the new feeling. It felt as if you had searched every corner of Danny, as your years of friendship had taught you things about him even his family didn't know, yet this was unexplored territory. 

Danny pulled away with a deep inhale, and he took in the sight of your flushed face, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide. A small smile crept onto his face at his realisation of what had just happened. 

“You’re so beautiful, d’ you know that?” he whispered, hand gliding up and down the curve of your waist. You looked down shyly, at both the compliment and your own understanding of what had just happened.

“You are too,” you mumbled quietly, a blush tinting your cheeks. You could no longer look at Danny without your heart exploding, and when he smiled a bit wider at your words, you turned back around, reaching for the body wash and fiddling with the cap. 

Danny was more hesitant to offer helping you clean your body than he was your hair, ever considerate of your boundaries. You had both taken huge steps in mere minutes, and the last thing he wanted was for you to feel rushed. 

You of course knew this, and decided that your bold streak hadn’t ended yet. “Would you… help me with this one too?” you asked quietly, turning to look up at Danny through your lashes.

“Anything,” he answered with a nod, taking the bottle from your hands gently and pouring the soapy substance over his hands. You could tell he was still hesitant, the act of touching you was clearly daunting for him, and you tried your best to show him you were okay. You nodded at him to go ahead, and he gingerly reached his hands to your shoulders, massaging the product over them, pulling your arms out horizontally so that he could lather it across them too. 

Avoiding the obvious, his hands dragged back up your arms and to your back. You turned for him, letting his strong fingers knead into your muscles, making you hum in approval, head dropping forward at the feeling. He tucked your hair over your right shoulder to move it out of his way. His hands travelled over the expanse of your back, fingers dipping into your dimples of venus, but not treading any further before he pulled them back up, running long stripes either side of your spine.

His hands travelled around your waist then, and you turned again for him as the warmth of his hands spread over your stomach, sides and ribs, hesitating just below your breasts. 

Your stomach flipped as you became aware now that his gaze was not holding its respectful attachment to your face, and was now all over your chest, trying to touch you anywhere but there. 

You bit your cheek, and slowly reached up to take his hand that was settled on your ribs into yours. His eyes zoned in on your own as you dragged his hand up your body and rested it on your breast. 

“It’s okay,” you told him. To say that these moments were not entirely sexual anymore would be untrue. And you’d be lying if you said that you hadn’t caught glimpses of his situation down below, despite your efforts to keep your gaze above his waist.

Breath heavy, and feeling like he would pass out any moment, Danny tenderly ran his hands over your breasts, rounding at the swell and dipping in the valley as he lathered them in the soap. He wasn't hasty to move on, but he didn’t linger for too long, letting you know that he did not expect anything sexual from you. As he washed your upper half, you scrubbed at your bottom, running the soap in your hands over your legs and behind, to speed up the process. 

Danny pulled you back under the stream, and quickly rejected your offer to wash him the same. 

“You’re exhausted, and I’m worried if you spend another minute in the steam you’ll pass out,” he said with a teasing smile, half joking. You frowned at his words. 

“I’m not exhausted, I can do it.”

“Honey…” he started, lifting your arm and showcasing your hands which were trembling without support.

You huffed at his consideration. “Okay, fine… if you’re sure.”

He smiled at you, his hand on your hip squeezing gently, “I am.” He dipped down and gave you a quick peck on the lips, the act startling you, as you had almost forgotten the events that just occurred between the two of you. As if you weren't just guiding his hand to your breasts. As if he weren’t standing before you in those moments, with an obviously painful erection.

You gave him one last smile before you pulled the shower curtain open and stepped out. The cold slapped you in the face and you were quick to shut the curtain behind you to keep Danny warm. Picking up your towel and wrapping it around your body was a beautiful reprieve from the biting cold, and when you looked out of the fogged glass of the bathroom window, you could tell that the rain outside was just as relentless as it was before. 

You listened to foamy soap hit the floor as Danny washed through his own hair while you collected your hairbrush and other essentials, before you silently slipped out of the bathroom door, not bothering to close it all the way behind you. 

Your mood now soaring at heights unimaginable, you padded to your bedroom, a small smile on your face as you thought back on the intimacy of the moments you had just shared. When you stepped into your bedroom though, you were reminded of the mess that was your life. 

Your bed was soaked, sheets and pillows bore big wet patches and you were sure the moisture had soaked through to your mattress too. You shut your eyes and took a deep breath, before deciding what to do. You shuffled through your pyjama drawers and picked out some long plaid pants along with a white singlet and a hoodie. You changed quickly, not wanting the warmth of your body to succumb to the cold again, and once you were changed, you walked back out of your room and into the living room, where you set up camp on the couch. 

Meanwhile, Danny was running his hands through his wet locks, the water cascading down his face as he replayed those moments over and over again in his mind. He had waited for you for so long. Loved you in silence for so long. And it was all worth it. 

Once he left the shower he wrapped the last towel around his waist, squeezing the wetness out of his hair and leaving it otherwise to air dry. 

As he left the bathroom, he could hear you humming softly in the living room, and he passed his room to see you again. Danny watched in admiration at you, dressed comfortably while you typed and scrolled on your phone, cross legged on the couch, Your wet hair hung down your back, but your sweater protected you from the cold this time. 

He frowned when he saw the couch, set up in a way he could only assume was your attempt to sleep on it. 

The sound of his arrival got your attention, “Hey, I’m ordering Thai delivery,” you said, eyes still trained on your phone as you typed in your card details.

Danny smiled warmly at you, “Great, thanks… um, what’s all this?” he asked, hands gesturing to the makeshift bed you had set up on the couch. Although just seeing him completely naked, and having that naked body pressed against your own, you stifled at the sight of him with only a towel around his waist.

You cleared your throat and averted your gaze, “Oh, my bed is really wet from… you know, lying on it earlier.”

He shook his head, “No, you aren’t sleeping on the couch. I have a double, you can sleep with me.” He immediately blushed at the alternate innuendo his words held, “Not like sleep together, just, you know, go to sleep,” he tripped over his words anxiously, making you force back a smile. 

“Are you sure? I’m fine to—” 

“Yes I’m sure. One hundred percent,” he assured quickly before he reached up to scratch the back of his neck, “I mean, we did just shower together.”

Now it was your turn to blush, and you looked back to your phone to hide your face, agreeing quietly. 

Danny retreated to his room to get into his pyjamas, and quickly tidied the space up, feeling self conscious at the state his room was in, shoving his clothes into his drawers haphazardly, and others he took to the laundry basket. Once he was satisfied, he returned to the living room. 

He sat down beside you, his thigh brushing yours and you suddenly became insecure of where you both stood. Usually, it would be normal to sit so close together, laughing and chatting through movies, but now, things were different. You didn't want to come across as pushy and rushed, but similarly didn't want to do the opposite, act cold or distant after the moments you had shared. 

If Danny was having the same fears, he didn’t let it show, as he wrapped his arm around you and tugged you closer to him while he leaned over to reach for the TV remote with a grunt. 

“Watcha wanna watch?” 

You and Danny settled on the first movie you could, only pausing to get your takeout delivery from the door, before you returned to your position, which seemed to be steadily moving closer to Danny with each reposition or shuffle. 

By the time the film was over and your bellies were full, you were exhausted. You had been emotionally wrecked throughout the day, ranging from betrayal and heartbreak, to renewal and love. 

Danny steadied you by your elbow as you stood, helping you gather your things to take to his room. You were too sleepy to feel nervous. 

“Which side do you sleep on?” you asked as you stood by the doorway. 

Danny scratched the back of his head, “Usually the right, but I don't mind. I move around a lot when I sleep anyway.” Truth be told, Danny rathered that you slept on his side, as he knew that his pillow would smell like you by morning.

It apparently didn't matter though, as when you slipped under the covers of the left side of the bed beside him, his senses were overwhelmed with you. Your smell, your energy and your heat. It also wasn’t long before the two of you closed the distance between you, arms and legs tangled in your attempts to be impossibly closer to one another, your fronts pressed together just like the moments you shared in the shower. 

It all felt so normal. You attributed it to being friends for your whole lives, giving you the ability to close emotional distance without second thought, but it was still startling nonetheless. 

“Thanks again for letting me sleep here, it’s definitely more comfortable than the couch,” you whispered, and he reached behind him to turn off the bedside lamp.

Now cloaked in darkness, you relied only on your hearing to navigate Danny beside you. The rain was still pouring outside the window, and in a way, it felt fitting as a reminder of your day. While a disastrous storm brewed outside, you were safe and warm with Danny at home. 

“Maybe… maybe we could make it a regular thing?” Danny asked nervously. “You know, since you love me and all that,” he teased, trying to ease the tension of his suggestion. You groaned in embarrassment and buried your head into his chest, hearing his chuckles vibrate in his chest. 

“I would like that very much, thank you.”

“Don't thank me. You have no idea how happy I am to have you with me like this.”

You sighed deeply, and decided it was your turn to tease. “And just how long have you felt this way for me, hm?” 

Danny chuckled dryly but swallowed, hesitating to tell you in case it made things weird. He didn’t want you to feel that his friendship had ever been false, or as a ruse to gain your attention in that way. 

His nose brushed against your forehead, “I’ve known for sure since eighth grade.” His statement was heavy, yet honest, and it hung in the air wearily as he waited for you to respond. 

You pulled your head away from him, “Eighth grade?! Danny… what— why didn’t you say anything?”

He sighed, “I didn’t want to ruin what we had.” 

You understood, but wished he had told you sooner, as though you hadn’t ever realised it was quite love, you knew that you never would have turned away the idea of being with Danny like that. 

“We wasted so much time,” you sighed. 

“What? You mean you felt the same?” he asked, shock lacing his words as his hand tightened around your frame. 

You nodded, “You’ve always treated me better than any boy I ever went out with. I just didn't think that— I didn't think that this was a possibility. I thought you were too good for that. Too—”

“Too good for what?” 

“You know, like with your band and stuff. I don't know, I guess I thought you had more important people to see than me. I didn’t ever think you would— could actually see me like that,” you tried to explain. 

Danny groaned, “Oh God. I’m never gonna live this down.”

Your brow creased in confusion, “What do you mean?”

“Sammy knew I liked you before I even did, used to tease me about it all the time. The three of them have watched me act like an idiot around you for years. I can't believe you thought that I was ‘too cool’ for you.” He chuckled, though regret laced the dry laugh. 

You felt mild embarrassment at the thought that the boys, who you’d become close with the years that you knew Danny, were keeping the secret from you that would ultimately change your life indefinitely. 

He whispered your name, pulling you from your thoughts, “I have always loved you. Nothing will ever change that.”

“I love you too,” you whispered, the words feeling new and foreign on your lips, yet somehow just right. You clutched his shirt in your hands and shuffled incredibly closer to him. He smelt like Danny, the comfort you had grown to turn to after many years of safekeeping your heart. 

“Goodnight, sweet girl.” You felt him kiss the top of your head, followed by the feeling of his nose nuzzling into your hair and sighing deeply. 

“Goodnight Danny.”

As you welcomed the blankets of exhaustion over your spent body, Danny began to hum a familiar tune, his voice sounding distant in your haze of sleep. Soon, the song became unmistakably recognisable. 

Because, by The Beatles. Your favourite song.

𓅪

Complete the google form here to be added to my permanent taglist for any future fics!

Part 2

[stardustthread]

Greta needs to stop fucking around and just bust out the bagpipes already

[stardustwhoreds]

smh

[wildbluesorbit]

This is getting BRUTAL 🫣

@joshskittytickler

[asacredthebread]

Cocky Corrections

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

Sam x F!Reader - 18+

𝙵𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚞𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚗 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜, 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚙𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎?

Warnings/Themes: Sub Sam, Begging, Whining, Teasing, Drinking, Slight Public, Cocky behaviour, Handjob

wc; 5794

taglist - @musicislove3389 @peaceloveunitygvf @jazzyfigz @sarahbethgvf

It was one of those late summer evenings, where the air was thick with humid warmth, and the golden light of the setting sun streamed through the open windows of the bar. The small space was buzzing with laughter and the clinking of glasses, creating a comforting ambiance that made you feel right at home. You sat at a round table with Sam, Jake, Josh, and Danny after an exhausting but exhilarating band practice, the remnants of their efforts lingering like a distant echo of a concert yet to come.

Sam, with his long brown hair cascading down his back and his expressive brown eyes sparkling with mischief, sat confidently at the table, an amber pint cradled in his hands. You couldn’t help but admire him from the corner of your eye as he animatedly recounted some trivial band drama from earlier that day. His natural charm had a way of pulling everyone into his stories, and as he spoke, he leaned back in his chair, a sly smile playing on his lips.

"Maybe if we had a little more practice and a little less bickering, we’d actually get song down," Sam joked, shooting a teasing look at Jake, who feigned innocence, rolling his eyes with a smirk. “But who am I kidding? You’d probably drown in the spotlight anyway.”

Danny erupted into laughter, his infectious humor infusing the atmosphere with a lightness that evoked chuckles from everyone around. Josh, the softer-spoken one of the ensemble, sat quietly, a tender smile on his face as he watched the dynamic play out. You felt the warmth of laughter wrapping around you, but there was a different energy pulsing between you and Sam—a tangible undercurrent that suggested a different side to him.

As he continued to boast and banter with his brothers and Danny, he seemed to grow more animated. His laugh was louder, his gestures more exaggerated. You knew that within this confident façade lay a completely different person; one who thrived on your approval and craved your guiding hand. The thought was enough to propel a small smile to your lips, one that Sam occasionally caught when his eyes flicked toward your direction.

“Really, dude, you should just stick to playing bass,” Jake said, shaking his head, a smirk lacing his words. “You know pushing your weight around can’t cover up your lack of rhythm.”

“Oh, come on!” Sam waved a dismissive hand, but there was a glimmer of mock frustration in his eyes. “I’m practically the backbone of this band. Without me, you’d all be lost.”

You caught his gaze, and it held a challenge—an invitation wrapped in bravado. One part of you wanted to encourage that cockiness, to let him bask in the limelight he thrived in, but another part couldn’t resist giving him the knowing look that shifted the power dynamic. It was a brief glance that carried with it the understanding of your complex relationship, unspoken yet resonant. In these moments of confidence, he was the band’s star—a leader, a showman—but in private, he could be so achingly tender, his demeanor a stark contrast that only you truly recognized.

Sam's smile faltered for just a second, as if registering the subtle shift in energy between you both. The façade of bravado smoothed out, giving way to a flicker of something deeper—perhaps vulnerability or yearning. But the spell was soon broken, and he filled the silence with a quick quip meant to catch everyone’s attention again.

“Alright, alright, I guess I’ll take all the credits then. Just know that when we blow up, I’ll expect a bigger share of the profits!” he declared with a laugh, slamming his pint down on the table in a triumph that earned him a chorus of playful groans from the others.

You couldn't help but smile at him. Watching his rapid shifts from cocky bravado to a deeper introspection was always a show you enjoyed. There was something intoxicating about being the one who held that subtle sway over him—a power balance steeped in trust. Balancing the roles he played on stage and off, you relished the parts you understood—how he fed off the energy of the room, yet yearned for more from you in a space only meant for two.

As the night continued, the laughter and teasing filled up the air, creating a warm blanket that wrapped around all of you. But within that vibrancy, you could still sense Sam’s playful arrogance masking the deeper layers of who he truly was—a man yearning for guidance, for connection, and most important, for you.

As the evening rolled on, the lively banter among the band intensified, fueled by drinks and camaraderie. Sam leaned further into the spotlight, transforming into the embodiment of rock star charisma. He tossed his hair back with an exaggerated flourish, his body radiating confidence as he declared, “It’s official: I was born to own that stage! When I step out there, it’s like the world fades away and all that remains is me and the music. Everyone else is just background noise!”

The table erupted into laughter and cheers, a chorus of encouragement that fed into Sam's bravado. He gestured widely, mimicking the movements he might display on a stage—a grand rock star performance at its finest. “You know those moments when I grab the mic and the audience goes wild? That’s all me, baby! I’ll have you guys begging for an encore! I’ve seen it, all the signs, it’s me and my woah’s against the world!”

As he recounted the latest practice where he imagined himself commanding the crowd, you watched him intently, your gaze piercing through the playful banter that surrounded you. There was a glimmer of pride in your chest, mixed with something akin to urgency. Sam was riding high on the waves of confidence, but you knew the others—caught up in their cheers—weren’t fully aware of the path he was navigating with more than just bravado.

As Sam gestured animatedly to make his point, you leaned in slightly, letting the heat of your body brush against his, sending an unspoken warning through the space between you. You shot him a look—sharp yet teasing—a promise that he would be held accountable for this newfound arrogance. There was something about the way his eyes sparkled in that moment, a flicker of realization mixed with challenge, as if he eagerly accepted your silent contract.

Not wanting to let the opportunity slip away, you placed your hand lightly on his thigh, just above his kneecap, allowing your fingertips to graze his jeans as you locked your eyes onto his. The gesture was casual enough for the others to remain oblivious, but you could feel the heat radiating from him as he paused mid-sentence, caught in the tension brewing between you.

His expression shifted slightly at the contact, his cockiness momentarily fading to reveal something more vulnerable, almost blissful. A mix of surprise and thrill danced behind those expressive brown eyes as he fought to maintain his swagger while your hand teased him subtly.

“My sweet boy,” you said quietly, your voice soft but laden with meaning, emphasizing the appropriate mix of intimacy and authority. “You might own the stage, but don’t forget who keeps you grounded here.”

The words hung in the air, and you could practically see him weighing the balance of defiance and submission in that moment. Around the table, Jake was relaying his thoughts on the upcoming setlist, Danny was contributing with his usual flair, and Josh remained a calm presence—oblivious to the inner conversation layered within the hazy air of the bar.

But Sam was no longer hearing his brothers. His focus had shifted; the raucous laughter around you faded into a dull hum as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, just for you. “Do you think you can keep me grounded?” There was a playful challenge hidden beneath his words, a desire to see just how far he could push without losing your grasp.

You smiled at him, your thumb brushing lightly across his thigh, sending shivers through him, and you could sense the mix of cockiness and intrigue swirling within him. It was exhilarating and risky; a push and pull that defined the unspoken relationship that existed between the two of you. The thrill of asserting control over his cocky facade, mingling with the rush of knowing he needed you in a way no one else did.

As Sam attempted to regain his bravado and rejoin the conversation happening around him, you remained poised, your fingers still grazing against his thigh, maintaining a thread that connected you both—a secret tether in the midst of the evening's revelry. And while the others continued to celebrate the evening, a quiet heat built between you and Sam, stretching the tension just a little longer, each glance and touch laced with unspoken promises of what was yet to come.

You could feel the electric tension humming between you, a current that connected you both amidst the noise and laughter of the bar. Sam's cocky persona was beginning to shift, and you relished the power it gave you in the moment, a thrill that coursed through your veins like the alcohol swirling in your glass. You subtly adjusted your position, leaning in closer to him, your breath barely brushing against his ear as you made your move.

With a slow, deliberate motion, you slid your fingers into the waistband of his pants, just enough to feel the warmth of his skin beneath his jeans. You were careful to keep your movements casual, like a playful caress, but you knew what you were doing. The thrill of teasing him sent a delicious shiver through your own body, and you felt the slightest tremor run through him as your fingers grazed over his boxers.

Sam jolted a little, surprise painted across his features as his concentration abruptly shattered. The laughter from Danny and Jake morphed into a distant backdrop, fading as he focused solely on the intimate connection you had initiated. For a brief heartbeat, you reveled in the way he stiffened at your touch, his eyes widening in surprise, but just as quickly as it sparked, it was tempered with a semblance of his previous bravado.

“Oh—damn it!” he exclaimed, his voice rising a notch as he quickly pretended to shift in his seat, a forced chuckle escaping him. “I just hit my knee on the table. You know, these stupid legs—they’re like a weapon of mass destruction!”

He aimed a playful kick at the table, trying to brush off the involuntary reaction, but you could see the suppressed excitement in his eyes, a flicker of desire mixed with embarrassment. The laughter continued around you, but for Sam, the stakes were different now. You had pulled him from center stage, grounding him into reality with just a few daring gestures, and it thrilled you to see how he responded.

His bravado was still there, just reconfigured amid a swirl of confusion and uncertainty. You could tell he was fighting to reclaim his earlier composure, caught between wanting to stay cocky while also grappling with the thrill of your intimate touch. As you held your position, your fingers barely tugging at the waistband, you took joy in the power you had over him.

“Watch where you’re swinging those long legs, Sammy,” you teased, your voice low enough that only he could hear. You felt a grin tugging at your lips, drawing further out the contrast between his exterior and the hidden desires that lay beneath.

Sam's playful smirk returned, albeit with an edge that hinted at his ongoing need to maintain his persona. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m just fine! You know me—always hitting my targets, even when they’re my own knees!” He laughed off the moment, but there was a flicker in his gaze, an unspoken acknowledgment of the boundary you had both crossed.

The others around the table continued chatting away, absorbed in their own discussions, blissfully unaware of the charged atmosphere simmering between you and the man who was simultaneously the life of the party and a person longing for something deeper in the respite that existed outside of the spotlight. Sam’s hand subtly drifted toward your thigh, seeking some connection, but you remained firm in your teasing, relishing in the way he responded to your every move.

The balance hung in the air: he projected an image of playful dominance, but you both knew who truly was in control. And as the laughter faded into anecdotes and the drinks continued to flow, you were determined to keep him guessing—between his roguish charm and the depths of his submission, you held the key to unlocking the secret behind the man who would one day own the stage.

After a few minutes of playful teasing and lingering touches, you decided it was time to break the spell for just a moment. You leaned back slightly, letting your fingers trace away from Sam’s waistband as you rose from your seat. “I’ll be right back,” you said, shooting him a sly smile before gracefully making your way through the throng of people towards the bathroom.

As you navigated the busy bar, laughter and music swirled around you, but your thoughts were filled with the enticing figure you had just left behind. You could feel the heat of his gaze on you, and it left you with a thrill that combined anticipation and mischief.

You freshened up quickly, splashing cold water on your face and taking a moment to gather your thoughts. Just as you stepped out of the bathroom, you spotted Sam leaning against the wall down the hall, his casual demeanor a stark contrast to the thumping rhythm of the party.

"Hey, I thought you might get lost in there," he teased, raising an eyebrow as you approached.

“I know my way around a bathroom, don’t worry, darling.” You shot back playfully, stepping closer until you were right in front of him. The space between you felt charged, electric with the tension that had been brewing all evening.

“Now, about your behavior back there...” you began, your voice dripping with a mix of authority and affection as you gracefully wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him closer to you. There was a moment of surprise in his expression, followed quickly by a softening that made your heart race.

“Look at you, all cocky and full of yourself,” you murmured, pressing gentle kisses against the warm skin of his neck. The taste of beer mixed with the faint scent of his cologne intoxicated you further, and you could feel him melt into you, a quiet moan escaping his lips in response.

“Just being charismatic,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper, but the teasing lilt in his tone had shifted to something more vulnerable as he leaned into your touch.

You felt a rush of satisfaction at the effect you had on him, and you whispered against his skin, “Oh, really? Charismatic or just a little too full of yourself, princess?”

The term of endearment slipped from your lips effortlessly—playful yet intimate—as your kisses trailed further up his neck, delighting in how he reacted to your touch. Sam's breath hitched slightly, a deeper moan escaping him this time, his body leaning closer, inviting you to draw him in even more.

“Princess?” he echoed, a slight chuckle intermingled with the breathy sound of desire. “That’s a new one…”

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, which were now alight with a mix of mischief and yearning. “It suits you. Sweet and a little spoiled,” you teased, feeling emboldened by the way he was surrendering to you in the dimly lit corridor away from prying eyes.

He chuckled softly, but there was a hint of submission in his gaze. “I guess I can’t argue with that.”

The air between you was thick with anticipation, as you stood there, holding him close and sharing a moment that bypassed the usual bravado. Sam's vulnerability was disarming, and it only fueled your desire to tease him further.

You felt the world around you fade as you held him, the sounds of the bar distant and muffled. In this private moment, it was just the two of you—intimate, charged, and poised on the edge of something deeper. You could feel the shift in Sam as he melted further into your hands, the teasing banter fading away to reveal a side of him that hungered for something deeper. His body instinctively leaned into you, surrendering to the warmth of your embrace, and you could see the façade slip from his features as desire mingled with a vulnerability that was impossible to ignore.

“Please...” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the pulse of the music from the bar. The word hung in the air, laced with an urgent need that made your heart race. You could sense the tension coiling tighter within him, and it thrilled you.

“Please what?” you asked coyly, keeping your hold on him steady as you pressed another kiss to the crook of his neck, your lips brushing against his skin in a way that felt both playful and intoxicating. In response, you felt him shudder, a soft whimper escaping his lips that tugged at something deep within you.

“I—” he stammered, the confidence he usually wielded melting beneath your touch. “I was only playing, I swear,” he murmured, the words laced with a mix of desperation and a hint of embarrassment. “You know that, right?”

The way he spoke, almost pleading now, sent a thrill coursing through you. You reveled in this new dynamic, the tease evolving into something more profound that sent sparks of excitement racing down your spine.

“Playing?” you echoed, enjoying the tension that lay between sincerity and the playful game you both engaged in. “Then why do you sound so needy, hmm?”

He took a shaky breath, and the way his fingers tightened subtly against your back made your heart race. “I just—can’t take it,” he admitted quietly, the words barely a whisper, yet filled with an urgency that made you smile. “Just... please stop teasing me. It’s driving me crazy.”

His admission was laced with a quiet whimper that resonated within you. There was something exhilarating about having this power over him, watching as he unraveled under your touch. You held him closer, trapping his whispered pleas between your bodies as you leaned in, capturing the moment with the intoxicating warmth of his vulnerable side.

“Aw, poor baby,” you cooed softly, further pressing him into submission with each word, feeling the tension create an electric bond between you. “Can’t handle a little teasing? Is that it?”

He hung his head slightly, the playful bravado disappearing as he chose to simply let you lead. “I can handle it, but,” he sighed, “it’s just…”

“Just what?” you pressed gently, fully aware that you could make him squirm if you pushed just a little harder.

“I want you,” he finally confessed, the admission trembling on his lips as he searched your eyes for understanding. “I want you to stop teasing and just…”

You sensed the weight of his words lingering in the air and felt a rush of satisfaction. Whether he could fully embrace his submission or not, he was visibly caught in the dizzying whirlwind of your control, and you savored every moment of it.

With a sly smile playing on your lips, you tilted your head slightly to gaze into his eyes, your heart racing at the sheer connection you felt. “Tell me you want it, and I might just be willing to give you what you’re begging for,” you teased, knowing full well that Sam was teetering on the edge of surrender.

His answer was a soft, desperate moan, fraught with need, as he looked at you with longing and vulnerability, caught in that perfect moment of intimacy where playful teasing merged with something much deeper.

The atmosphere between you and Sam crackled with unspoken tension and anticipation. You could see the struggle in his eyes as he wrestled with his desire and the last remnants of his bravado. He opened his mouth to say something but faltered, words escaping him as he searched for the right ones.

“Uh... I— I mean, I want you to…” His voice was a soft stutter, the sounds tumbling clumsily from his lips, and with each pause, you could see him trying to regain the confident composure he often wore like armor. But here, with you, he was unraveling, and you loved every moment of it.

“Just take your time, princess,” you said softly, a teasing lilt in your voice, encouraging him even as you enjoyed the power you felt in this vulnerable exchange. It was a dance—one of dominance and submission, and he was all yours.

“I want you to… um, I want you to touch me, but,” he hesitated again, biting his lip in that adorable way that sent shivers down your spine. “Not just like, um, like before,” he managed, and you could see him struggling to articulate his thoughts. “I mean, I want you to really—”

“What do you want me to do?” you asked gently, leaning in a bit closer, your lips brushing against his ear, where you could feel the warmth of his body radiating even through his shirt.

“I want you to make me feel good,” he finally whispered, his voice trembling with a mix of urgency and desire, sealing the admission with a quiet whimper.

Your heart raced at his confession, the heat pooling low in your stomach. You understood what he was yearning for—this blend of teasing, control, and now the promise of something more intimate. It sent excitement shooting through you as you felt his vulnerability envelop you, urging you to explore this new territory together.

“Okay, princess,” you murmured, brushing your fingers against his waist, feeling the way his breath caught in his throat at the slightest touch. Taking the lead, you let your hand find its way down, moving slowly, intentionally, as it slipped under the waistband of his pants. The heat of his skin was intoxicating, and you could feel his muscles tense at your touch.

“Just breathe for me,” you instructed softly, easing your hand further, fingers brushing against him where he was already growing hard. The moment you felt him, he gasped—a sharp intake of breath that sent a thrill coursing through you.

“Oh my god…” he breathed, his words stammering out in a breathless rush as you wrapped your fingers around him, slowly stroking, teasingly gentle at first. “I didn’t— I wasn’t ready for… for that.” His voice was a mixture of disbelief and overwhelming need, a fragrant cocktail of desire that made you want to push him even further.

“Just relax,” you whispered, your voice low and sultry. “Let me take care of you.” You let your movements be deliberate, your fingers gliding along his length in slow, tantalizing strokes. You could feel him respond almost immediately, his body instinctively leaning into your touch as soft moans slipped from his lips, each one igniting something wild within you.

“Y-you’re so—” he stuttered, lost in the sensation as you maintained that exquisite pace. “I can’t believe we’re… here.” His words were punctuated by quiet whimpers, a mix of pleasure and soft pleading that encouraged you to keep going.

“Just focus on how good it feels,” you encouraged, feeling him melt further into your touch. You loved the way he surrendered, the way his body reacted to you so openly, as if you had awakened something inside him that he was desperate to explore.

His gaze was hazy, pupils dilated as they locked onto yours, and you could see the way he struggled to suppress his whines, lips trembling slightly as if trying to hold back a tide of need. “I—I don’t want to hold back anymore,” he admitted, the words spilling from him in a rush as if the dam had finally broken.

“I know, Sam. Just let go for me,” you replied, your fingers picking up the pace ever so slightly, deliberately applying more pressure as you watched his reactions closely. Each flick of your wrist, each stroke of your hand coaxed soft cries from him, pushing him deeper into the whirlpool of desire.

“God, I— I can’t believe you’re doing this,” he stuttered, eyes fluttering shut as he savored the feel of you—so close, so intimate. “It feels so good… you.. oh-”

“Shh, just enjoy it,” you whispered, your voice wrapping around him like velvet as you continued your steady rhythm, feeling the familiar heat and weight of his need pulsing between you. Sam was losing himself in your hands, and with each passing moment, the air crackled with an energy that felt electric, binding you closer in this moment of shared longing.

Though he was still trying to hold onto some semblance of control, you could see it slipping away. The way his hips instinctively bucked into your strokes, the soft, tortured whimpers spilling from his lips—each response was a command to keep going, to take him further into this intoxicating abyss of pleasure together.

And you were more than willing to oblige.

The electric connection between you and Sam thrummed in the air, a palpable tension that surged with every heartbeat. You could see the need building in his eyes as he wrestled with his desire, and the moment felt ripe for the taking.

“Come with me,” you said softly, your voice low and inviting. Without waiting for a response, you took his hand, guiding him through the hall, until you reached the dimly lit bathroom. The sound of muffled music faded as you stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind you with a sense of finality.

The small space felt intimate, charged with a sense of secrecy that only heightened the urgency of the moment. You turned to him, locking eyes, and in one fluid motion, backed him up against the cool, tiled wall. Sam gasped at the sudden shift, his breath hitching as the reality of where you were sank in.

“Now, let’s see how needy you are,” you murmured, a teasing smile playing on your lips as you pressed your body against his. Instinctively, he tilted his head back against the wall, eyes fluttering closed as surrender washed over him. You could feel his warmth radiating through your clothes, his body responding to your proximity and the thrill of the moment.

With a gentle yet firm grip, you resumed stroking him, your hand moving with a deliberate slowness that made him squirm. “Oh god, please…” he whimpered, the desperation in his voice sending a rush of exhilaration through you. You loved that he was so utterly receptive, his body betraying him as he bucked his hips into your hand, seeking more of the pleasure you were giving him.

“You like this, don’t you?” you teased, leaning in closer. Your lips found their way to the sensitive skin of his neck, planting soft kisses that made him tremble. “You’re so responsive, Sammy… I can feel how much you want it.”

“Y-yes,” he stuttered, his voice a breathy whisper, barely holding onto the thread of restraint as he melted further into you with each kiss. You could feel the tension coiling in him, the sweet anticipation of release that threatened to spill over. His breath was ragged, each exhale mingled with soft whimpers as he continued to grind against your hand, pleading for more.

“Tell me what you want,” you whispered against his skin, teasingly breathy, feeling his pulse race beneath your lips. He moaned softly, tilting his head to give you better access, the action allowing you to kiss more fervently along his collarbone and up to his jawline.

“Please don’t stop,” he managed to say, voice trembling with intensity. “I need this… I need you.”

The way he pleaded with you, unguarded and vulnerable, made your heart race. Encouraged by his eagerness, you sped up your movements, letting your fingers slide along him in a way that was both teasing and demanding. He gasped, pushing his hips forward even more, your shared urgency resonating in the small bathroom.

“Just let it all go,” you murmured in encouragement, planting another kiss along his neck, feeling the way his body started to tense and release under your touch. The vulnerability in his eyes mixed with need made your own pulse quicken, and you were perfectly aware of the clandestine thrill of what you were doing.

As his body arched against you, you felt the intoxicating rush of power mixed with a heady desire. You kept kissing him, each touch driving him closer to the edge while you held onto him firmly, urging him to succumb completely. Sam was lost in the moment, fully engulfed in the pleasure you were igniting within him, and you reveled in the connection you shared.

In this secluded refuge, nothing else mattered but the two of you, the world outside falling away as you focused solely on his need. Each kiss, each stroke of your hand brought you both closer to that precipice, and the thrill of it all was intoxicating.

“Please,” he whimpered softly, a delightful tremor echoing through his words. “Don’t stop. I can’t hold back much longer…”

And with that, you pushed him further into that abyss, teasing, taunting, and fully embracing the passionate moment that consumed you both in its feverish grasp. As the kiss trailed off and your touch intensified, you could feel the tension building in Sam, his need palpable and intoxicating. Suddenly, with a soft, almost fragile movement, he leaned his head against your shoulder, surrendering to the moment entirely. The weight of him felt reassuring, and you reveled in the closeness, as though the two of you had built a world of your own inside the stall.

“Oh, Sam,” you murmured, brushing your fingers through his hair as you continued to stroke him with a steady rhythm. It felt like everything was crescendoing around you both; the muffled sounds of the bar and distant laughter faded, leaving just the two of you caught in a dizzying haze of heat and desire.

Sam’s body reacted to you with an urgency that made your heart race. The way he nestled into you, his breath hitching against your skin, sent waves of warmth flooding through your body. “You feel so good,” he whispered, voice shaky and breathless, completely lost in the moment.

“I could say the same about you,” you replied teasingly, feeling him press his body against yours, urging you to continue. With each stroke of your hand, his soft whimpers grew louder, filling the small space as evidence of his pleasure.

“Please…” he whimpered, eyes fluttering shut in ecstasy, his mind clearly clouded with sensation. The tension in his body coiled tighter as if he were a spring ready to snap. You could tell he was close, and a part of you thrived on that knowledge, reveling in the fact that you were the one bringing him this pleasure.

“Just let go, Sam,” you encouraged softly, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear, the intimacy of it sending shivers down his spine. “You’re so close. Just— let it happen.”

His inhale was sharp, a desperate gasp as his body began to tremble involuntarily. With one final, deliberate stroke, he finally came undone in your hands, a deep, breathless moan escaping his lips as he released. The sound was utterly intoxicating; it resonated within you, serving as a powerful reminder of the connection you two shared.

“Ahhh… God,” he gasped, head falling back against the wall, eyes squeezed shut in a mix of bliss and disbelief. You felt him shudder against you, his breath coming in quick, uneven gasps as he tried to catch his breath, body still twitching from the aftershocks of his release.

“That’s it, baby,” you cooed softly, your own excitement barely restrained as you continued to hold him, your fingers gently tracing comforting patterns along his skin. “You did so well for me.”

For a moment, the two of you simply lingered in that post-orgasmic haze, the world outside the bathroom stall forgotten. But as the intensity of the moment began to fade, a serious thought crept into your mind, and you gently pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, wanting to ensure the lesson was conveyed.

“Sam,” you began, your tone soft but firm. “You need to remember something. You only ever get what you want when you behave.” His brow furrowed slightly, and you could see a hint of vulnerability mixed with confusion as he processed your words.

“What do you mean?” he asked, his voice still breathless, an innocent lilt that made your heart ache.

“I mean,” you said, leaning closer, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “you can’t act like you did with the rest of the band in front of me again. You know how I feel about that.” There was a weight in your words, a warning laced with a sense of authority that he needed to grasp.

He looked down, guilt flickering across his features, and you could see the wheels turning in his head. “I… I didn’t mean to. It just happened,” he said hesitantly.

“I know it did,” you replied gently, brushing your thumb along his cheek to bring his gaze back to yours. “But if it happens again, I won’t be as kind next time. I might just have to teach you a different lesson, you understand?”

There was a moment of tension, electric and charged, as you watched his expression shift. Understanding bloomed in his eyes, a realization of the boundaries you were emphasizing. He nodded slowly, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips, though you could tell he was still processing your words.

“Okay… I get it,” he finally replied, his voice quieter now, softer. “I promise to do better.”

“Good boy,” you replied, satisfaction blooming within you as he leaned back against you, resting his head on your shoulder once more. The combined rush of pleasure and the promise of a new understanding settled between you like a comfortable blanket, warm and enveloping.

“For now, just hold onto that promise,” you said, letting your fingers play lightly in his hair. “And maybe next time, I’ll show you just how kind I can really be.”

With a lingering look shared between you, the two of you reveled in the weight of the moment, a mix of passion and newfound respect lying beautifully beneath the surface, ready to be explored anew.

[whollyfree]

Let's Talk

Summary – You have a hard time watching Jake be ogled, and he has a remedy to remind you what's yours.

Pairings – Jake Kiszka x F!Reader

Word Count – 3.1k

Warnings – 18+ MINORS DNI!!! oral (f!receiving), face-riding, unprotected sex, dumbification, LOTS of dirty talk, cockwarming if you squint, spanking, mentions of alcohol

You had really fucking had it this time.

Was it a normal thing for Jake to be ogled? Yes! How could he not be? 

It was far too easy to find yourself staring at him; so you truly couldn’t blame anyone else for doing so. With an air of confidence, he enters a room and every eye falls onto him. 

He is an enigma to all (except you, of course) and it felt like damn near every girl at that godforsaken bar was on a mission to have his eyes so much as glance their way. He knows this, of course. How could he not?

But behind his mysterious, debonair exterior, he’s Jake. Your Jake. Your soft, sweet Jake who raids your pantry to make you breakfast in bed and fills your car with gas because “why do you ever let your tank run that low?! It’s not safe!” he had argued (but he still fills it up every time). 

He’s your loving, tender Jake who litters you with kisses at any given moment and nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck when the poor thing feels as if he isn’t getting enough of your attention. That, and he can’t stand not to be touching you in any form or fashion. He’s just like a little lovesick puppy!

And no matter how hard you try to remind yourself of these things, to be rational, you can’t help but have to bite your tongue. The jealousy eats away at you and it infuriates you to no end. You hate yourself for it.

Which is why tonight at the bar, you bit your tongue so hard you’re sure small trickles of blood had seeped their way into your mouth. Jake stood by the bar; an arm securely wrapped around your waist as he beckons the bartender over with a simple raise of his fingers. 

Of course, when it’s Jake, it’s not hard to get anyone’s attention; unwanted or not. And that was abundantly clear from the blonde at the end of the bar, twirling her straw in her cocktail as she eyed your boyfriend. 

Her eyes moved up and down, and you notice they became stuck on his exposed chest and silver necklaces dangling against his tanned skin. And, oh god, do you hate her for it.

Stop it. Your conscience pleads with you to (for lack of a better phrase) chill the fuck out!

Jake could tell you were a bit pouty. He knows you all too well. And just as assumed, he knew he was being eye-fucked by the blonde at the end of the bar (and one hidden away in a booth in the back, but like hell he was planning on telling you that).

Part of him hates himself for finding your jealousy so amusing. And in all honesty, if he saw a man looking at you the way that women have looked at him, he’d be raising hell.

“You okay, baby?” He grins as the two of you walk into your home after your excursion to the bar, tossing his car keys on the kitchen counter.

“Mhm.” You hum. Short and sweet. He won’t expect a thing, right?

You’re kidding yourself and you know it.

“Yeah?” He replies, crowding your space immediately from behind. He takes the curves of your hips in each of his palms, his breath tinted with the Maker’s Mark he had a glass of at the bar. Top shelf only for him, of course. “You were awfully quiet tonight. Getting shy on me all of a sudden, princess?”

You can hear the subtle teasing in his voice, and you’re sure he knows exactly what you were sulking for. But you simply answer, not ready to give yourself away too quickly. “No, just tired is all.”

“Just tired is all,” he mocks you with a low chuckle. You’re a terrible liar, always have been. “It’s cute that you think you could ever lie to me.” He adds, lips grazing over the sensitive skin of your neck – it already feels too much but not enough. 

And when his lips ghost over the shell of your ear, you feel a rush of heat between your thighs, and you swear your knees may give out. How he’s able to turn you into a puddle of yourself so quickly? You’ll never know.

“Come on, princess,” he sounds, and just like that it’s over. His hands are removed from your hips and he moves in front of you, his arm outstretched to you and his body facing the stairs. “Let’s go to bed then if you’re so tired.”

You try to hide your huff of annoyance, aching to have his touch again after being subjected to watch women drool over him all night. So you decide, no, you’re not going upstairs. Your arms cross over your chest like an insolent child who didn’t get what they wanted. Stubborn and spoiled. And your act of defiance is certainly not lost on him.

“No?” He quirks up an eyebrow at you, “Is the princess suddenly not tired? Sure are moody, though. What’s that about?”

God, you hate him. You hate that he’s finding your frustration the slightest bit entertaining. He’s taunting you, dangling the carrot in your face just to see you bite back.

He huffs out a laugh at your silence. “Oh, so we don’t wanna talk now, hm? That’s alright. We’ll see how long that lasts.”

Before you can even blink, you’re thrown over his shoulder like a rag doll. A surprised shriek slips out of you as he trudges up the stairs and in the direction of your bedroom. Smaller in stature he may be, but weak is not a way you would ever describe him.

“Jake!” You scold him, not having any of his shit right now. “Put me down!”

“Oh, so we are talking now?” He muses, depositing you on the neatly made bed. He hovers over you, standing at the foot of the bed where he practically threw you on it. 

“How about this then, princess?” He taunts, “Since you’re suddenly in the mood to talk, I say we play a little game. You talk, I listen.”

Seems easy enough…a little too easy. 

“Everything off.” There it is.

He strides over to the bed, climbing on before laying on his back. His head rests against the pillow as you continue eyeing him, slowly peeling your clothes off your body until your stark naked and sitting on your heels on the bed.

“So obedient, my pretty girl. And so fucking beautiful when you listen, aren’t you?” He coos. “Come have a seat, princess,” he beckons, still fully clothed, “talk to me.”

With a bite to the inside of your cheek, you rise from your sitting position to straddle his lap. And just as you begin to settle yourself – 

“Uh-uh,” he tuts. “Not quite, baby.”

Your incredulous look makes him laugh. What else could he have wanted?

“Come on,” he encourages, placing his hands on your hips. “Up you go, princess.”

With a quick slap to your ass, he hoists you up further. Your eyes go wide and you yelp at the crack of his hand hitting your skin, your heart racing as your knees straddle either side of his head. 

“Good girl,” he praises, his hands trailing up the sides of your thighs and to your hips to keep you steady. “Go on, princess. Tell me what’s got you so pouty. Wanna help.”

Considering you’re at a loss for words and can’t think straight with him eye-level with your cunt, you suddenly don’t even know why you were upset to begin with. But another swat to your ass quickly brings you back to consciousness.

“F-fuck,” you whimper, your head falling down and fingers gripping his hair. “They were staring at you…at the bar.” You manage out.

“Yeah? Who was, princess?” He’s teasing you even more now, pressing the gentlest of kisses to your clit until you choke out his name and begin tugging on the roots of his hair. He knows you can’t answer; you’re already too far gone and he’s hardly started.

But your impending fear that he would stop has you rushing out the words through uneven breaths.

“The girls at the bar,” you croak out as his lips continue pressing small kisses to your bundle of nerves. “Hated the way they looked at you. I was fucking jealous. I’m sorry.”

Pleased with your answer (even if he already knew it), he grins. And you can feel it against you before he presses one final kiss to your pearl.

“But you see, princess,” he says, smoothing his hands over your hips. “No one else gets to have this. Just because they see my face, doesn’t mean they get to fuck it like you do, do they?”

“N-no.” You reply, desperate to feel his mouth on you again.

“Good girl,” he croons. “And what they don’t know is that I get to have my face fucked by the prettiest little pussy whenever I please. Get to have your scent all over me. ‘Cause it’s yours, isn’t it, princess?” 

“Yes, sir.” You peep, unable to form another word if your life depended on it. 

Not only were you insanely turned on and dripping because his face was buried between your thighs, but it’s also due to how he speaks to you with such dominance and authority. He could have you on your knees (both literally and figuratively) with the snap of his fingers.

With one more praise of good girl, he dives back in, immediately sucking your clit into his mouth and flicking against it like a man starved. You feel your eyes roll back, a whining desperate mess above him. The tugging on his hair only gets tighter as he grips your hips to keep you against him.

You’re sure there will be marks, and you aren’t mad about it either. You need him tethered to you in every way possible.

He expertly licks through your folds, tongue gently prodding at your entrance as his nose brushes your clit. You can’t fight the whimper that leaves your lips, your pussy fluttering around the tip of his tongue. And when he groans at the feeling, you swear you’re done for.

“Jake,” you gasp, tightening your hold on his hair. He doesn’t seem to mind, though. He hums against your cunt, flicking your arousal against your clit before sucking it past his lips once more. 

“Yeah, princess? Feel that sweet little cunt fucking squeezing my tongue. That feel good? Feel good to take what’s yours?”

And before you have time to catch your breath, his tongue finds your entrance again. He wastes no time going harder, faster this time. His tongue fucks into you relentlessly, nose nudging your clit in perfect timing. It’s sloppy and wet and downright sinful.

You can hardly register when it happens, you’re so far gone, but you cum hard against his tongue. Grinding your hips against his tongue to chase the feeling for as long as your body will allow while you cry out his name like a hymn.

And he can’t get enough of it either, ravaging you and swallowing every bit he can muster until you pry yourself off of him. 

You look him over, his mouth, chin, and nose glistening with remnants of you. It’s enough to stir you back up again, your overstimulation be damned. Your lips crash into his, and he’s eager to capture them with his own, maneuvering you to straddle his lap. 

“Fuck, my sweet girl,” he breathes out. “Did so fucking good. Came so hard for me. Could eat that pussy until it suffocates me, I swear.”

You gasp when you feel his hardened cock through his jeans that he wore out make contact with your swollen clit. 

Grinding against him, you whimper against his lips at the new feeling bubbling within your tummy. He groans, feeling the slightest bit of relief as you grind against him. With the amount of wetness you felt between your thighs even after your orgasm, you’re sure that you’re absolutely soaking the fabric.

“This what you want, baby?” He murmurs. “Want my cock? Wanna fuck what’s yours?”

“Please.” You whimper, grinding down against him with a bit more force this time before moving your hips upwards to allow him to undress.

He practically moans when he sees the wet splotch of your arousal on the crotch of his jeans. “Fuck, princess. So fucking wet for me.”

“Jake, please,” you whine, tugging at his pants in an effort to make him move faster. 

“Oh, my needy little thing.” He teases, resuming pulling his pants down along with his boxers. “Just had her pussy fucked with my tongue and can’t wait for more, can you?”

You shake your head no, trying to will yourself to calm down. You don’t want him to think he has the power, even though he knows all too well that he already does.

“I know, princess.” He soothes you with his tone, tossing his pants and boxers on the floor along with your clothes. 

His dick stands tall, pressed against his stomach as precome leaks from the slit on the swollen head. He gives himself two languid strokes with his fist, hissing at the feeling. “Can’t wait to have you wrapped up around me…all tight and sweet and warm- fuck, come here, baby. Take it. Take what’s yours.” 

You’re quick to crawl back to him, desperate to have him inside of you as you grasp his shoulders for balance. Using one hand, you grasp him, whimpering when you feel his crown just lining up with your weeping hole. 

Jake holds your waist, patiently waiting for you to sink down around him. And when you do, you could cry from how good and full you feel already. You keen as you feel the familiar and pleasurable sting that only happens when he’s this deep inside you. 

“Shit,” He hisses, fighting the urge to fuck upwards into you. “Feels so good, princess. This cock is yours, baby. Everything is yours.”

And that’s more than enough to encourage you to begin riding him, rolling your hips back and forth at an even pace. You whine and mewl from above him as he holds your waist, encouraging you with each movement you make.

You’re both a complete wreck already. Jake is already so close to coming and you’d hardly started moving your hips against him.

“Whose cock is this?”

You hated when he made you talk. You could listen to him go on and on all day about nothing that truly mattered (especially in bed). But you hate having to talk as well. You feel like you were nowhere near as good at it as he is.

In hopes that he’ll somehow forget what he asked, you resume your movements and peel your eyes away, beginning to go faster in hopes that you’ll truly distract him. But that sure as hell doesn’t work.

“Uh-uh,” He scolds, using his free hand to take your chin and turn it to face him. Eye-to-eye. “Eyes on me, princess. Now tell me whose cock this is. Wanna hear you, sweet girl. Tell me nice and loud.”

You’re embarrassed. If your cheeks could turn any darker in this moment, you’re sure they would. And you don’t want to answer him, suddenly bashful even when he’s buried inside of you as you bounce on his cock. 

Displeased with your lack of a response, he angles his hips upwards, meeting you halfway to send himself deeper into the depths of your cunt. It catches you off guard to say the least, but only causes you to move faster, further onto him to chase that feeling again.

“It’s mine, sir,” you whine, words rushed and breathless. “It’s mineit’smineit’smine!” You continue, drunk off his cock and so close to coming you can’t hardly stand it.

Jake groans, continuing to push his hips upwards. “Yes, princess. My good fucking girl. It’s fucking yours.”

You want him to come harder than he ever has; want his cum deep inside you because it really is yours. He’s yours.

“Taking me so well, princess.” He pants. “Riding me so fucking good. Go on, baby. Want you to come again. Soak my cock, baby.”

Your words become mush, incoherent babbles as you continue fucking yourself on him. You can’t hardly breathe anymore, your chest heaving for breath as you feel the knot inside of you threatening to snap.

“Oh, princess…” he coos, “My dumb little baby. Can’t even get a word out when my cock’s buried inside you. Can’t even help it, can you?” He snaps his hips upwards more forcefully than before, an unforgiving pace that allows you some sort of reprieve from the burning in your thighs.

The moan that rips from your chest would have caused you to curl in on yourself in embarrassment, but right now you can’t seem to care. The way he’s fucking into you, the way he’s speaking to you…it’s too much for your already fucked-out brain to handle.

“Gonna come!” You muster out, your voice cracking as you grip his shoulders tighter.

“Yeah?” Jake taunts, still snapping into you as your pussy contracts around him. “Do it, princess. I can feel you fucking squeezing me so tight- fuck, baby. Gonna make me fucking come, aren’t you?”

You want to answer him; you really do. But all you can muster is a nod as your orgasm rips through you, your mouth dropping open and your cunt locking down around Jake as it fights to keep him inside. Your ears ring as you pulse around him, unsure if you’re making noise or not at this point. 

Jake’s orgasm washes over him, choking out a moan of your name as he buries himself as far as he can. He spills inside of you, cum spurting from his swollen tip and into you. You feel him coating your walls as your vision returns to you, his eyebrows furrowed and sweat glimmering his forehead. 

God, he’s beautiful all the time, but especially like this.

The two of you are a breathless mess, feeling the his cum mixing with yours as it seeps down your inner thighs. You breathe out a laugh, your forehead falling against his as he wraps his arm around you.

“I’m yours, princess.” His voice is as soft as silk as he traces his fingertips along your spine. “You know that don’t you?”

You smile, lashes fluttering as you wrap your arms around his neck. He makes your heart feel warm – even when you don’t deserve it; even when you’re acting like a brat.

“I do now.” You tease, attempting to bite back a smile but ultimately failing when you hear him giggle.

“Oh, princess,” He tightens his arms around you. “What are we gonna do with you?”

Share your thoughts/feedback! | Masterlist

[thehallowedshore]

he’s evil for this

[jacketkiszka]

Only You Can Set Me Free

Female Reader x Danny Wagner

Word Count: 5.3K

WARNINGS: Explicit Sexual Content 18+, angst, alcohol consumption, drinking to the point of memory loss, oral m receiving, best friends to lovers, DIG setlist at a SCWT show (sorry not sorry)

*Thursday night, 10 pm*

*Your POV*

“Can I get two beers? Whatever you have is fine.” You shout to the bartender over the noisy Nashville bar. You return to your group with two canned beers in tow, and pass one to your best friend, Danny. You are out celebrating tonight as Danny has a show in town tomorrow, but will be leaving for tour the following day. This will be your last chance to spend quality time with him for a while, until they have a break. You clink your beers together, as you always do, and you both take a drink. 

After a couple beers and a lot of talking, you head to the restroom. When you return, Danny is talking to a girl you’ve never seen before. She seems really excited to talk to him, so you think you know what’s going on. 

“Thank you, yeah… It means a lot.” Danny replies. You approach the two and grab your beer from the table behind him. 

“Oh! And you must be the girlfriend!” The girl asks. You practically spit out your beer in surprise. “Girlfriend?” You look at the girl and then to Danny. The question was genuine, and you’re taken off guard, so you just introduce yourself, avoiding the ‘girlfriend’ comment as a way to end the conversation quickly. The fan eventually leaves you two alone and you make your way back to the rest of your group. 

“Did you tell her we were together?” You ask. Danny busts out laughing. “No! I don’t know where that came from! Do people really think that?!” He responds as you approach the group.

“What’s that? Y/N and Danny are dating?” One of your friends says, loud enough to get the rest of the group’s attention. They chuckle. “Congratulations! Took you long enough.” Another friend teases. You both roll your eyes. You hope it stops there, but of course it does not. 

Deeper into the night, the music gets louder and the alcohol percentages get higher. One of the friends in your group comes back to the table with a tray of shots. Everybody grabs a shot and holds them up when someone in the group shouts “To Y/N and Danny!” 

Great. Clearly you two have been chosen as the butt of all jokes tonight. “Fuck you guys” You mumble after taking the shot. You know they’re joking, but the more they talk about it, the more you think about it… and you’d been trying not to think about it for a long time. Of course you liked Danny, everyone did. But you left it at that. It would not, and could not, ever be more than that. You realize that this will be a long night of trying to repress those feelings if they don’t stop picking on you. You clear your throat and stand to go back to the bar. You need a distraction, and another drink. Danny follows suit. You should have expected that, the man is practically chained to your ankle. You offer to buy him a drink but he’s already ordering his own and putting yours on his tab. He does that when he feels like something is wrong. You know it’s coming, so you brace yourself. 

“Is everything okay?” He asks, quiet enough that nobody else can hear. You nod, and do your best to look confused while doing it as if you don’t know what he’s talking about. You do, though, and he knows that you do. Sometimes you wonder if he knows because he feels it too, but you try not to think too hard about that. 

“They’re just messing with you, y’know.” He says, now sounding concerned. 

“Oh, I know… It’s not about them, I’m just tired and… well, I’m not looking forward to you being gone. That’s all.” You hope he doesn’t see through your excuse, but you know he probably does. 

His facial expression softens, and he smiles a little. “I know. I’m going to miss you too.” 

You smile back and you both stand there in silence. This is the side of Danny that made your heart melt. This side of him was tender, and reserved for only a select few. You were lucky enough to be one of them. 

After a moment he breaks the silence. “Man, no wonder they think we’re dating.” He laughs quietly to himself. 

The drinks he ordered arrive and he slides one to you. “Drink up, get out of your head. Let’s have fun tonight.” 

He was right. There was no sense in letting a good night go to waste. After all, you would miss him greatly after he leaves for tour. The two of you make your way back to the group and plop down on one of the couches in the corner of the bar that you all had claimed as yours for the night. In typical Danny fashion, he sits entirely way too close to you on the couch. Again, chained to your ankle. You hope to god you’re not blushing, but you try not to care. 

As the night goes on, the alcohol starts catching up to everybody. You and Danny have gotten pretty comfortable on the couch, talking about the upcoming tour and pretty much anything else that comes to your mind. You loved to talk and he loved to listen to you. You hadn’t noticed yourself leaning more and more into Danny the more that you talked, but your friends did. 

They’d asked you about it before but you always denied having any feelings. They knew, though. Everyone did. You could deny it all you wanted, but there was no questioning the way that the two of you looked at each other. The way that he listened to you, the way that he was the only one who could calm you down if you were upset. In fact, the only two people who couldn’t tell, were you and Danny. The way you both managed to ignore your own feelings as well as the possibility of each other’s feelings was extraordinary. You had both become so jaded by the need to preserve your friendship that you ignored the fact that you knew it was right. Maybe that’s why they teased you about it so often, maybe they thought if they badgered you for long enough, you’d see. And maybe they were right. Whether it was that, or the impending sadness that would be coming with your best friend going on tour without you, you’d not been able to stop thinking about him. 

You had just barely started to let the thought creep back into your brain when one of your friends approached the two of you. She’d already had plenty - if not too much - to drink and brought a polaroid camera with her to document the night. As quickly as she approached, there was a camera being pointed at your faces. 

“Say cheese!!” She shouted.

You and Danny sit up straight and smile for the camera. He puts his arm around you to bring you closer. You don’t mind. She snaps the picture and sets the developing photo on the table. She points the camera at you again. 

“Give us a kiss, lovebirds!” Another one of your friends yells. The others giggle and shush him. “Come onnn, just a little peck. It’ll be funny!”

The next few seconds are fuzzy.

Was it the copious amounts of alcohol? Was it the peer pressure? You’re not sure, but the next thing you know, you’re kissing Danny Wagner.

As quickly as it began, it was over. Everyone laughed and then continued on as if nothing had happened, and the girl set the new photo next to the first one to continue developing. You and Danny laughed it off immediately, making comments about what assholes your friends were. Nothing he said registered in your ears. In fact, nothing for the rest of the night did. Your brain was mush and your skin was hot. What just happened? 

*Thursday night, 3 am*

You made it back home and you’re lying in bed, rethinking the night's events. Your head is swirling thinking about the way Danny’s lips felt against yours. You felt stupid for thinking about it still. It was nothing, just a silly joke to appease your friends. You’re not even sure how it happened, you can’t recall leaning in. All you remember is his lips, a flash, and then it was over. You lie there thinking about it for longer than you should. The thought replaying in your head over and over again, preventing you from falling asleep despite how tired and drunk you are. You can’t stop wondering how Danny may have felt about it. Was it more than a joke to him? Was he still thinking about you the way you were still thinking about him? Suddenly, you remember something. 

“The picture!” You whisper to yourself with a small gasp, and you jump out of bed to find your wallet. 

You had quickly snagged the picture from the table when no one else was looking. The last thing you two needed was rumors starting, and perhaps there was a small part of you that just wanted to keep it… it didn’t matter. You needed to see it. 

You find the picture and pull it out. You gasp at the sight, because this was not how you remembered it. Your arms wrapped around each other, his hand on your thigh and a smirk on his face as you kissed. What?! You must have been too blindsided by the kiss to notice. Did this mean he felt the same way…? Surely not, but this picture was making you think otherwise. You decide against your better judgment to text him. 

3:12 am

You: I had fun tonight. Thanks for talking to me earlier, I get too much into my own head sometimes. What time should I be at the venue tomorrow?

A text bubble popped up almost immediately showing that Danny was typing. It quickly disappeared and you felt your heart sink a little. 

3:13 am

Danny: soudnchck at 2 im being there 1. any time.

Oh, he is still drunk. He went pretty hard tonight. You chuckle, reading the message again, trying to decipher it.

3:13 am

Danny: always have. funwith u :):)

Smiling, you clutch the phone to your chest and fall asleep without a response. 

*Friday Afternoon, 1:48 pm*

*Danny’s POV*

You open your eyes for the first time today and are immediately assaulted by the dogpiling combination of dizziness, nausea, and a migraine. The sun is too bright, the fan in the corner of the room is too loud. Everything is too much. What time is it? You turn over to face the clock on your bedside table, trying not to make yourself sick in the process. The clock reads 1:48.

“Fuck!” You shout, but you’re so exhausted it comes out more as an angry groan. 

You force yourself out of bed against your body’s will and make your way to the bathroom to get ready. You are certain you’ve never looked worse in your life. You’re certain that nobody has ever looked worse in their life. You brush your teeth and put your hair in a claw clip, just to get yourself out the door. You decided you’d freshen up after sound check. Trying to minimize the damage of how late you were going to be, you just grab your keys and head out the door, not even considering grabbing something caffeinated on your way out. 

Upon getting to the venue, it’s clear that everyone is upset with you, and rightfully so. You were not only holding everybody up, but in a funky mood on top of it. You slam your keys down and get to the stage to do your soundcheck. Everything sounds fine, except for you. You can barely think straight and keep missing the beat. What is wrong with you today? 

After soundcheck, you’re making your way back to the dressing room to get your shit together when you spot Y/N running through the halls. She is always doing what she can to help the band, despite not being a part of the crew. You appreciate her more than she’ll ever know. She’s clearly busy right now, so you dip into your dressing room instead of saying anything.

Shortly after, you hear a knock at your door. You open it to find your best friend, holding a box full of miscellaneous equipment and wires. 

“Hey,” she starts, “You okay? I didn’t see you earlier, you’re usually the first one here so I got concerned.”

You laugh and rub your hand on the back of your neck. “Oh, yeah… Sorry… I guess I drank a little too much last night. I slept until almost 2. I woke up with a violent hangover, I don’t even remember most of the night.”

“Oh..” Her expression drops.

What was that? What is that face? Why does she look disappointed? You furrow your brow in response. 

“Umm, maybe you should get a coffee?” She suggests. You agree. That would make you feel a lot better right now. You offer to get her one, as well. She appreciated that. 

She disappears into the hallway to go distribute the box of gear and you start to gather your keys and wallet… Shit. Your wallet. In your hungover haze this morning you completely forgot to grab it. 

You debate if the coffee is even worth it, but ultimately it is, plus you had offered to get one for Y/N. You couldn’t possibly let her down. You roll your eyes and leave the dressing room, finding her in the hallway and asking if you can borrow her card for the coffees. She agrees and hands you her wallet. You thank her with a hug, now setting off towards the coffee shop down the road. 

You order yourself the largest coffee they can offer you, and a regular sized one for Y/N. She didn’t have to tell you what she wanted, you already knew her order. In fact, you knew everything about your best friend… or at least you thought you did. 

Reaching into your pocket to pay, you pull out her wallet. When you open it, you stop in your tracks. The barista is staring at you with a confused look on their face, and you feel just as confused. When did you kiss her? Who took this picture? And why was it in her wallet? You try your best to shake it off long enough to pay for the drinks but on the ride back to the venue you can’t stop thinking about it. Is this why she looked disappointed to hear you hadn’t remembered anything about last night? You feel like your heart is going to break in half thinking about that. 

You’ve always liked Y/N. How could you not? You had always hoped if you ever kissed her it would be special. This wasn’t special. You couldn’t even remember it. You wondered how she felt, if she had thought it was special. If she wanted you to feel the same. Had you unknowingly ruined any chance you had with her by drinking too much to remember it? Maybe she doesn’t remember it either. Would that make it better or worse? You don’t know. Fuck.

You sit in the parking lot for a moment too long, trying to rack your brain. You force yourself to go back inside so that the coffee doesn’t get too cold. Somehow you managed to make handing off her coffee and wallet the most awkward experience of your life, barely looking her in the eye when you saw the corner of the polaroid still poking out of the wallet. You felt bad, but you didn’t know how to talk about this. You weren’t sure if you’d be able to find the words to say. 

She felt it, too. She felt the tension, she noticed the way that you looked at her as if she was fragile. You were terrified to say the wrong thing, and push her away. 

It wasn’t the fact that you’d kissed her. It was the way that you kissed her. It was the way your hand was gripping her thigh, the way you smiled against her lips. It was the fact that you couldn’t remember it, and it was the fact that she’d kept it in her wallet. 

*Friday Night, 9:23 pm*

The arena fills with cheers and screams as Safari Song comes to a close. You feel the anticipation building as you prepare for your moment. You start your solo as Josh exits the stage, and you catch a glimpse of Y/N standing side stage. She was always there for your solos, at the very least. Even if she didn’t catch the rest of the show, she made sure to watch you have your moment. You knew she’d be staying for the entire show tonight though. This was going to be a special one. You smile and get focused, trying to give this solo everything you had. If you were one thing, it was a perfectionist. Maybe the fans wouldn’t notice if you missed a beat every once in a while, some of them used your solo as a bathroom opportunity anyways, but you would know. Once you were in the zone, nothing could stop you. Well, almost nothing. 

Your time in the spotlight flies by and Josh comes back on stage, rambling his usual stage banter and more importantly giving you a breather before you transition your solo into the next song. 

“Better than sex!” Josh exclaims to the crowd.

You press your tongue to the inside of your cheek and shake your head, mouthing “I don’t know about that” to him before looking back to your left and watching the color flush in Y/N’s cheeks. 

“Well, how about a climax, Daniel?” Josh shouts. 

From the corner of your eye you see her turn and abruptly walk away from the stage.

What was that about? Was she- No. Daniel, focus. 

You try to push it to the back of your mind but you keep finding yourself thinking about last night, the photo you saw, and how flustered she looked as she ran off. Fuck, it was getting hard to stay in the moment. 

As the show goes on, you find it creeping back into your head more and more. Y/N still hasn’t returned and as you start Light My Love, you feel yourself getting more and more wrapped up in the thoughts of her. 

The music is swelling, the fans are holding each other tight in anticipation, singing along to Josh’s oohs. He throws his hand in the air and as the music stops, the lights go out. You give the drum two solid hits and right before the big moment, the photo of last night flashes in your mind again. 

You miss. 

You were late. 

The pyro goes off before you can crack your symbols and your heart sinks. What the fuck was that? You’d never been late like that at a show. Especially not for this song that you’ve played a hundred times now. You had to be better than that, right? You know you’re better than that. How could you let this distract you so much? You hoped you could recover and move on, but it was fucked from that point forward. Whether you were playing too fast, too slow, skipping a beat, hitting the wrong drum. It didn’t matter, you were struggling and everyone could tell.

Finally the main part of the show comes to a close and you run off stage before quickly being berated by the other boys. The worst part is you knew they were right. This was by far your worst performance and as the timekeeper of the band, you were screwing everybody else in the process. Thinking there was only one way to solve your problem and hopefully do better for the encore, you run to the mini bar in your dressing room where you spot half of the drinks had already been gone. You knew it was from Y/N, since nobody else ever helped themselves to your dressing room, but you didn’t see her anywhere. After downing a couple tequila shots, you slam the mini fridge door shut and turn around to see her standing awkwardly in the back of the room. 

“You’re not watching the show anymore.” Is all you say. 

“I’m sorry- I-” She tries to find the words but you can see in her eyes there’s far too much she wants to say, and now’s not the time to say it. 

“I fucked up. I fucked up so bad.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad…” She tries to console you.

“I ruined the entire show! Everyone is off and they’re all pissed at me and it’s all because of your stupid-” you stop. 

The tension is palpable. 

“…Stupid what?” She says sheepishly, fidgeting with the hem of her Greta Van Fleet t-shirt.

Your eyes flick down to the pocket of her jeans against your will and she adjusts her forearm, as if a half-assed attempt to prevent you from looking for the wallet. She knows you know.

“Why do you have that picture in your wallet?” You step closer. She steps backwards but is quickly met with a wall. Your in-ear monitor pings to let you know it’s time to return to the stage.

“I didn’t want anyone else to see it..”

“You didn’t want anyone to see it, so you put it in your wallet… and then gave it to me to pay for coffee.” You scoff. “This shouldn’t have happened. This is all-” You stop yourself before you can say something you’ll regret. With a shake of your head you start to walk away. 

A hand reaches out and grabs your arm just as you’re about to step out of the room. You look back, feeling the rage build up inside you. You knew none of this would have happened if it weren’t for her. You were just about to bite back at her when you’re met with the saddest, kindest eyes. The eyes you’d always had a soft spot for. For just a moment, everything you were mad about seems to fade away. 

“I’m sorry, Danny… I didn’t mean to upset you… I think we should talk about last night…”

Fuck, she makes your heart ache. 

You look into her eyes and she bites her lip, scared of what you’re going to say. You know exactly what she’s thinking, and you’re thinking it too. You get another ping on your in-ear urging you to hurry up. Without another word, you reach up to grab the sides of her face and pull her into a soft, quick kiss. With that, you turn away and head back to the stage, pulling another mini tequila bottle out of your pocket and taking it. 

*Your POV*

What the fuck just happened? It was like one second he wanted to tear your head off, and the next he’s kissing you in his dressing room? Trying to wrap your head around the events of the last few minutes, you make a mental note to have him work on his mixed signals. The warm and dramatic intro of Age of Man begins and like a magnet, you’re drawn back to the side stage. Sammy starts the song off with a hauntingly beautiful piano number and you watch as Daniel, now shirtless, settles into his drum kit. The dark blue lights mixed with the warm amber glow of the fire pits around the stage define every muscle in his arms and back in the most delicious way. Danny looks over to catch you staring him down and smiles. His demeanor is much lighter than before and although it could be from the tequila, something told you it had more to do with you. 

You watch the boys finish out their encore and as soon as you see Danny stand from the drum kit and Jake start throwing his spare picks into the crowd, you make your way back to the dressing room. Danny is usually the last one off the stage as he is always getting caught up handing out drumsticks and taking shots with the front row, but tonight wasn’t a normal night. That much was obvious. You make it back to Danny’s dressing room and within seconds he’s behind you, drumsticks still in hand, pulling you further into the room. 

Your bodies collide and he pulls you into him, your face in his hands as he presses his forehead to yours. 

“Danny…” You whisper, looking up into his eyes, your breath stuttering. “I think… I think we should talk about-”

He cuts you off.

“We have all night to talk about it. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted- needed to do this.”

He presses his lips against yours. Cautiously at first, but increasingly more passionate when he feels you melt into him. The hands around your face find their way backwards into your hair, holding you in place and even though this is the third time you’ve kissed Danny, you’ve never felt anything like it. You feel like putty in his embrace and he feels like heaven. You’re suddenly being pushed backwards against the wall of the dressing room, the same place you stood the last time he graced your lips with his.

Your hands run down his sides and rest at the waistband of his pants. He kisses you harder. It’s blissful. His tongue feels like everything you imagined and more. It’s all happening so fast, yet time moves so slow. You swear you could stay here for hours, days even, pinned between the wall and his body. With your fingers hooking into the waistband of the boxers that poke out just above his belt, you draw a sigh out of him. You snap the button of his jeans and close the sliver of a gap between your torsos with your hand snaking down to feel him. You pull away from his lips, looking into his eyes for his consent and he ruts into your palm, making his answer clear. He feverishly presses his lips back into yours, like he’s been made hungry in their absence. Starved. He lets you explore the feeling of him for the first time and you let him trail hot kisses from your jaw to your collarbone. 

“Please take these off,” you whisper, pulling at his jeans.

Danny looks down at you, and with a gentle bite to his bottom lip he guides you away from the wall and quickly rids himself of his denim before sitting back on the couch. You can’t stop your eyes from trailing down his body, inspecting every inch of his skin, parts of him you’d only imagined before. He was just as beautiful as you thought he would be, built like a Greek god and splayed out just for you. He looks up at you expectantly as he strokes himself gently. You sink to your knees before him and take him into your hand.

You drag your fingers down the length of him, he hisses through his teeth. His head rolls back and you watch his Adam's apple bob through the mess of his long curly hair. You lean in, your breath hot against his skin, and press a soft kiss to the sensitive tip. He groans, and his hips buck slightly, encouraging you to take more of him into your mouth. You part your lips and slowly take him in, swirling your tongue around the sensitive tip. His hands tangle in your hair, guiding you as you bob your head, taking more of him each time. His breath grows ragged as you pick up the pace. The sound of your mouth working him fills the room, accompanied by his desperate gasps. You’re addicted to the taste of him, the feeling of him throbbing against your tongue. 

Danny's grip on your hair tightens as his body tenses. "Look at me, baby," he rasps. 

You pull back just enough to look up at him, his length glistening with your saliva, as you continue to work him with your hand. He pulls you up into him for a sloppy kiss, mixing your spit and the little bit of precum on your tongue. He pulls away with a strained whimper. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this… Wanted to feel your lips wrapped around me… Watch your eyes tear up when you take me… You’re a fucking dream, baby, are you gonna let me fuck you?”

You smile at him, still pumping his length in your hand. Your grip tightens. 

“Mmm, next time,” You peck him on the lips before returning to your knees before him. “I’ve always wanted to know how you taste… You gonna cum for me?”

You take him back in your mouth, sucking him in all the way to the back of your throat. His hips jerk forward at the feeling.

“Fuck!” His head rolls back against the couch and his chest heaves, your hair still wrapped tight around his knuckles. He pushes further into your mouth causing a gag to rip from your throat. He hesitantly lets go of your hair, afraid he’s pushed you too far, but you pick up the pace, bobbing your head faster and faster. He writhes and his nails dig into the soft gray fabric of the couch beneath him. Your free hand finds its way to the heat between your legs. You moan around him as you grind against your palm, searching for friction. The vibration of your groan rattles through him bringing out a loud gasp. The sweetest sound you’d ever heard.

"You look so good like this, just like that, baby, just like that… just…” He praises, his voice growing desperate. 

You look up to meet his eyes and his brows furrow tightly. His cock throbs against your tongue and you’re hit with a sudden rush of warmth. Danny lets out a groan so strained you’d think he was in pain. You’ve never heard anything more beautiful. Danny consumed all of your senses. The taste of him, the sound of him, the feeling, the warmth. 

You pull off of him with a loud pop! He looks down at you and everything feels… different. He’s looking at you like you hung the moon, a way you’ve never been looked at before. Not by him, anyways.

He leans down to place a gentle kiss to your forehead, and then your lips. 

“So… did you still want to talk about it?” He whispers, smiling against your lips. 

You smile back up at your best friend. “Maybe we can talk about it at your place. I know you have a long drive tomorrow but maybe-“

He interrupts you enthusiastically. “I’ll pull the car around. This is long overdue.” 

He hops up from the couch, pulling his pants back up and grabbing his car keys. You start to gather your things from the dressing room but before he opens the door, he looks back to you. “Y/N?”

You look up, meeting his gaze. 

“I’m glad you kept that picture… Really glad.” He smiles and steps out of the dressing room. 

You didn’t know what your future with Danny would look like, but you knew one thing.

You were glad you’d kept it, too.