#on it since I needed to unpack and stuff | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

smileysuh · 4 months ago

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apartment complex

🌙 starring. Johnny Suh x afab!Reader I ft. Haechan & Jaehyun

🔮 preview. So… Johnny works on a rig for long periods of time, Jaehyun is a gym rat with dimples, and Hyuck is a… drug dealer who’s not afraid to be extremely direct and combative? And they’re all your neighbours and also into you? How did you get yourself into this mess?

tw/cw. Unprotected sex, pent-up sexual tension, shower sex, masturbation, fingering, hand job, thigh riding, praise, dirty talk, breast worship/nipple play, big dick Johnny, pussy stretching, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, multiple reader orgasms, multiple sex positions, size kink (Johnny is big and a slight manhandler), mentions of aftercare, etc… I pet names: (hers) 304, baby, princess.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 13.3k

🍭 aus. Love square, slice of life, neighbours to lovers, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. So when Johnny calls her the nickname ‘304,’ we’re not doing full numbers, it’s ‘three-oh-four’ which I actually think is kind of cute haha

One:

You feel like an absolute mess. Your hair is all over the place, you’re in a full sweats ensemble that is - true to its name - making you perspire like nothing else as you lug boxes upon boxes of your stuff into your building and up to your new apartment.

To make matters worse, you’re exhausted. Moving days have this absolutely draining effect, and you can’t wait for the day to be over. You’re not even sure if you’ll unpack anything- maybe you’ll just fish out a towel and some body wash from one of the many crates you have, shower, then collapse onto your mattress- do you even have the energy to set up your bed frame?

You’re busy trying to plan out how you’re going to even accomplish the day, when the elevator doors open, and you find yourself staring up at one of the hottest men you’ve ever seen.

“Hi,” he grins, stepping next to you in the small space. “Moving in?”

You’re so distracted by the way his biceps look in his muscle shirt that it takes you a moment to speak. “Uh, yeah.”

“I’m Johnny,” he tells you.

“y/n.” The box in your hands is beginning to slip from the sweat on your palms, and you haphazardly readjust it on your hip.

“This might be a little forward,” Johnny chuckles, “but do you need any help?”

“Uh…” You turn once again to look up at this absolute tower of a man. “I’m almost done moving everything-”

“Let me guess, boxes done, just some furniture stuff left?”

You feel your skin flush with heat. “Is it that obvious that I’m struggling right now?” An awkward laugh escapes your lips, and you’re happy to find Johnny return the sound with a soft, understanding smile.

“Usually when cute girls move somewhere, they have a boyfriend, a brother, a dad, a friend- someone to help them do the tough stuff, and since you’re alone, I’m guessing you’re troopering this whole thing out all by yourself.”

“New city,” you explain. “I don’t uh- don’t know anyone here just yet, and my family didn’t want to take time off work to help with any of this.”

“Lucky you bumped into me then,” Johnny grins. “I just finished up at the gym, but I’ve got energy to help a new neighbour.”

The elevator dings to signal you’ve made it to your floor, and Johnny follows you out.

“You’re the new tenant for 304?” he asks.

“Uh huh,” you nod, stopping in front of the unit you now call home.

“We really are neighbours,” Johnny laughs. “I’m 306.”

“Look it was nice to meet you,” you say, “but you really don’t need to help, I’m sure I can manage my bed and a few other things-”

“y/n,” Johnny interrupts you, “I promise I’m not some creep, just a good neighbour offering help. You look tired, let me help you.”

Your pride makes it difficult to accept this sort of thing, but you swallow it, offering Johnny a nod.

And that’s how you find yourself moving your bed and the last bit of furniture into your new apartment with one of the sexiest guys you’ve ever seen. He’s quite the charmer, and he’s reassuring too- calming you down when things are a little heavy, and slowing his own pace to match your exhaustion.

In no time at all, everything is out of the moving truck, and Johnny leans in your doorway as he watches you slump into a chair.

“Do you want help making your bedframe or anything?” he enquires.

“Honestly? I think I’m going to call it a day,” you admit. “The drive here was long, I’ve been up since five AM, didn’t sleep well last night due to nerves-”

“Sounds like you should get some rest,” Johnny nods.

“I really appreciate your help though,” you offer. “I’ll uh, have to buy you beers or something.”

Johnny only laughs. “That’s not necessary. Besides, I work on a rig, so I’m only here a week or so every month, you caught me at a good time.”

“Oh.” You can’t help the disappointment that surges through you. Of course this man was too hot to be true- of course he has a job that requires him to be away for long periods or he’d probably have an equally hot girlfriend already.

“But… let me give you my number, and if you ever need anything while I am here, you can just give me a shout.”

The two of you exchange digits, and with one final smile, Johnny leaves you be.

You lay on your bed for a while, trying to calm down- from the moving, or from being around a ten out of ten, you’re not sure.

Two:

It’s your first time doing laundry in the new building, and to your disappointment, you find the shared laundry room to have no available machines.

A sigh escapes you as you stand there momentarily, wondering if you should wait five minutes for a turn over, or just scratch this whole idea and hope there are empty machines tomorrow.

As you’re considering your options, the laundry room door opens, and a tall blonde enters.

“Hi,” he beams.

“Hello.” You watch him carefully, noticing that he heads to a machine to take out his clothes from the washer. “Uh- do you mind if I put my stuff in there once it’s empty?”

“Of course not,” he smiles. “With only six machines for the whole building, it can be a bit rough trying to nab one on busy days.”

“I’ve noticed,” you laugh. “I’m new here, my name is y/n.”

“I’m Jungwoo,” he tells you, moving his clothing into the only empty dryer. He turns on the machine and then steps back, looking over at you again. “So are you new to the building or new to the city?”

“The city,” you admit, beginning to move your stuff into the now empty washer.

“You have that look.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just- a lot of people here are boring, we’re not exactly known for fashion or anything like that-”

You look down at the Stitch onesie you’re wearing that you’d bought for Halloween a few years back but has since become a comfort outfit, then back up at the blonde.

“I just like your style!” he insists. “Not everyone can rock blue pajamas!”

You find yourself laughing at his sincerity, shaking your head as you grab your washer fluid to get the machine going.

“Anyways,” Jungwoo sighs. “Did you move here for work?”

“I actually work online,” you tell him. “I can work from anywhere, and I figured this would be a nice place to get out of the big city for a while- cheaper rent, more nature, that sort of thing.”

“Makes sense,” Jungwoo nods. “I’m a server at a bar just down the road.”

You take a moment, then laugh. “You seem like a server.”

“Because I’m so cute and social?” he grins.

“Definitely,” you nod, enjoying his energy.

“Anyways, I love making friends, and since you’re new to the city, I’m guessing you haven’t met a lot of people yet. If you want to be friends, I’d love to add you to my gossip roster.”

“Your gossip roster?”

“I’m a server, which means I love all things tea- except for when grandmas order actual tea in the middle of a rush, that’s the worst.”

“I’ll take your word on it,” you grin.

“So… friends?” Jungwoo asks.

You nod. “We can be friends.”

Three:

It’s been three weeks since you moved into your new apartment, and in that time, you’ve gotten settled, and even visited Jungwoo at his bar. He’s an interesting friend, and he seems to know everything about everyone.

At first, you’d been worried about any ulterior motives he might have, as you’ve experienced many men try to make a move on you under the guise of just wanting to be your friend. But now, you realize Jungwoo’s intentions towards you are pure- or, as pure as they can be given how much gossip he consumes.

You get the sense that you’re not his type, and that’s a hundred percent okay with you, in fact, it’s a dynamic that makes you finally feel comfortable accepting an invitation to visit his apartment.

It seems all the attractive men in your building live on your floor, and as you enter his unit, you find yet another cute man standing in the kitchen.

“This is Mark,” Jungwoo introduces you. “Mark, this is y/n. Don’t worry, Lee, I’ve told her everything about you.”

“Oh, great,” Mark sighs.

It’s true, Jungwoo has divulged way too deep into his roommate’s history. You know that he’s a content creator and chef, he used to work in a prestigious restaurant, went on one of those reality cooking shows, managed to be the runner up for the first place prize despite his awkward nature, and has now been commissioned to write a cookbook focused solely on burgers (which Jungwoo has assured you is actually a broad topic despite what you might think).

You also know that Mark has a limited dating history, with a high school sweetheart who left him right before his stint on live tv, and a new crush on some barista that he’s too shy to even talk to despite the fact that he goes to her coffee shop every day just to order frothed milk with vanilla since caffeine doesn’t agree with him.

“So what’s on the menu tonight, chef?” Jungwoo asks, coming to stand right behind Mark in the kitchen.

From the way Mark clears his throat and steps back, it’s obvious to you that he’s not as comfortable about being close to people as Jungwoo is, and you find yourself enjoying this roommate dynamic already.

“I’m actually testing some stupid protein burger for muscle heads,” Mark admits.

“Aren’t burgers already high in protein since they’re meat?” you ask.

“Yes, and no,” Mark groans, “it depends. I want to have a few vegetarian and even vegan options in the cookbook I’m writing on burgers- and lots of people want high protein even in their plant based meals.”

“So… what are your options for this burger you’re trying to create?” you enquire.

“I’ve tried some black bean patties, chickpea patties, that sort of thing- but I’m considering making an entire two page fold dedicated to dredges and batters that you could use on a variety of burgers, meat or vegetarian. I got everything to make a protein powder infused batter, but I’m just now realizing that the protein powder I have on hand is chocolate flavoured, which really won’t work if I put it on anything, let alone a tofu burger.”

“Call Jae,” Jungwoo says simply. “That man has a collection of protein powder that would make a man on steroids combust.”

“Maybe I should just run to the store,” Mark sighs.

“You only need a small scoop of powder, right?” Jungwoo counters. “Why would you go buy an entire plain jug of protein powder when a protein head lives next door?”

“I’d hate to bother him,” the chef groans again, and you find yourself starting to realize the true depth of his social anxiety.

“I’ll call Jaehyun,” Jungwoo states, pulling out his phone.

You take a seat at the island counter while Jungwoo makes a deal for some powder with this ‘Jae’ person, and you watch Mark fuss over other ingredients that he adds to a dry mixing bowl.

There’s a knock at the door, and then a man peaks his head inside of the apartment.

Your eyes lock and the wind is knocked from your lungs- is every hot man in the city living in your building?

“Jae!” Jungwoo yells, “come in!”

The man steps into the apartment, offering a smile, and the dimples in his cheeks practically blind you. There’s no way around it, this man looks like a model. He’s handsome, but there’s a slightly feminine softness to the angles of his face, a warmth in his eyes, and it’s absolutely captivating.

“Am I interrupting?” Jae asks as he approaches the kitchen, his eyes continuously meeting your own.

“Not at all, Mark’s just floundering as usual, and I’m hanging out with my new friend. y/n, this is Jaehyun, Jaehyun, this is y/n.”

“Nice to meet you,” you smile.

“You too.” Jaehyun sets a tub of protein powder onto the kitchen counter next to Mark, then he turns his full attention to you again. “So how did you meet Jungwoo?”

“In the laundry room,” Jungwoo is quick to explain, and you don’t miss the exchange of glances between Jaehyun and your friend. “She’s new to the building.” Jungwoo practically winks at Jaehyun, and you get the suspicion that he’s trying to set you up with this model looking protein man.

“I love meeting new neighbours,” Jaehyun says smoothly. “What floor are you on?”

“This one, room 304.”

“No way.” Jaehyun’s eyes widen. “That’s right across from mine!”

“You’re 305?” you ask, heart beating faster in your chest.

“In the flesh,” Jaehyun grins.

“Can we move the talking somewhere else?” Mark asks quietly. “I’m trying to concentrate.”

The energy fizzles immediately, and Jaehyun nods. “I was actually just heading to the gym.”

“Of course you were,” Jungwoo rolls his eyes.

“But uh, I’ll see you around,” Jaehyun says, looking at you directly. “Welcome to the building.”

Four:

You suppose you shouldn’t be shocked when meeting cute men in your apartment building anymore, but you still find your breath leaving your body when you’re bringing groceries up from the parking garage only for a very cute man to enter the elevator.

He steps in and flashes you a smirk, then looks at the floor buttons. “You’re headed to three?” he asks.

“Uh huh.”

“Are you new?”

“Been here about a month.”

“Huh,” the man looks stumped for a moment. “I feel like I would have seen you. I’m Hyuck by the way.”

“y/n.”

Hyuck nods. “Are you liking the building?”

“It’s nice,” you muse, too tired from your day at the grocery store to make much smalltalk.

“You must be… unit 304? I’m a couple of doors down, near the corner. I know someone moved out, and I heard from the building manager that someone was moving in, but fuck, I can’t believe I haven’t met you yet.”

“I can be kind of reclusive,” you joke. “I mean, I work from home.”

“Ahhh, you’re one of those girls.” Hyuck grins at you knowingly and your heart leaps into your throat.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” he shrugs. “Just, you know, sometimes the cutest girls are the ones that stay in their house all day.”

“Oh.” You’re really not sure how to respond to his statement, and your eyes shift down to the floor as the elevator comes to a stop.

The two of you both turn to the left, and Hyuck walks in step with you to your door, where he stops. “What’s that?”

You’re confused for a moment, too busy fumbling with your keys, but when you look up, you realize there’s a sticky note on your door.

“Looks like you already have an admirer,” Hyuck grins. “Was nice to meet you, we should hang sometime,” he reads. “Who do you think left this?”

You’re pretty sure it was Jaehyun who left the note- after all, the only other people you know are Jungwoo and Johnny, who both have your number, and you doubt Mark Lee of all people would be this forward.

“I uh-” you stutter a little, swallowing thickly. “I’m not sure.”

“So are you single, or…?”

“Definitely single,” you blurt out, pushing your key into the door and clicking it unlocked.

“Definitely single,” Hyuck repeats as you push into your apartment, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Five:

You’re finishing up after dinner when your phone makes a beeping sound, and you quickly pick it up, surprised to see a message from Johnny.

‘Looks like you’ve got some secret admirers, 304.’

Your stomach drops, and you realize that in your haste to enter your apartment after finding Jaehyun’s note with Hyuck earlier, you hadn’t actually removed it from your door- but wait, admirers? As in… plural?

Tripping over yourself to get to the door, you throw it open to find not one sticky note, but two.

While Jaehyun’s initial ‘Was nice to meet you, we should hang sometime’ is still there, someone has taken the liberty to put a second note on top of it, and this one reads; ‘I’m more fun, let’s have drinks.’

It’s clear who the second note is from, and you’re quick to rip both off of your door.

Jaehyun and Hyuck are both quite forward, and your heart is racing as you go sit on your couch, feeling conflicted.

You pull out your phone again, releasing a deep sigh as you write up a text to Johnny. ‘This apartment building is so weird.’

‘Boys will be boys,’ comes his quick response.

Taking another breath to calm yourself, you look at the texts, and that’s when you realize, ‘I didn’t know you were back from the rigs.’

‘Got back a couple of days ago :)’

Tapping your fingers against your couch, you try to figure out how you should play this.

You’re most attracted to Johnny, but now that Jaehyun and Hyuck are so clearly demonstrating their blooming affection for you - out in the open where everyone on your floor can see - you wonder if that might throw a wrench at Johnny’s own feelings for you…

Does Johnny like you?

When he’d helped you move your things, was that just him genuinely being nice?

You feel absolutely twisted, especially since you’ve never considered yourself the type of girl to entertain a long distance relationship…

‘So… you’re in town for a few more days?’

‘three!’

You definitely need to sort out your priorities.

Six:

You’re in need of a drink as you walk into Jungwoo’s work, taking a seat at the bar and releasing a deep sigh.

“For a girl who came to happy hour, you don’t look too happy,” Jungwoo muses as he moves to stand in front of you.

“Is it that obvious?” you laugh.

“I mean… you’re the hot new girl in 304 who has two guys fighting over you in sticky notes, I’d expect you to be a little more up beat.”

“You saw that?” you ask in shock.

“Everyone saw it. Whoever left those notes weren’t exactly subtle… who did leave those notes, by the way?”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head at your friend’s need for gossip. “You know one of them at least.”

“Jae, I’m guessing,” Jungwoo nods. “He asked me for your number but since I’m your friend I’m not just out here handing around your personal information.”

“I appreciate that.”

“And guy number two?” he enquires.

“Some dude named Hyuck.”

An interesting expression immediately appears on Jungwoo’s face. It’s something between an ‘oooooh!’ and an ‘ooop!’ and you can’t quite place the emotion.

“What?” you ask, leaning forward. “You know him?”

“Everyone knows Hyuck.”

“They do?”

“Let’s just say…” Jungwoo’s voice lowers as he leans over the bar, “he’s a provider of things that a lot of people like to get their hands on.”

“Huh?”

“A plug, there, you tortured it out of me, Hyuck is a plug,” Jungwoo throws his hands up as if you just twisted his arm for the information, and you stare at him blankly.

“A plug,” you repeat.

“You can’t be that innocent, babes, you know what I mean.”

You sit back in your chair, thinking it through.

So… Johnny works on a rig for long periods of time, Jaehyun is a gym rat with dimples, and Hyuck is a… drug dealer who’s not afraid to be extremely direct and combative? And they’re all your neighbours and also into you? How did you get yourself into this mess?

“Where did you even meet Hyuck?” Jungwoo asks.

“In the elevator?”

“Why did that sound like a question?” your friend laughs.

“I don’t know! God, I’m just… overwhelmed.”

“There are worse things to be overwhelmed about, I mean… tax season is coming soon, and I don’t know how much fraud I should commit with my tips.”

You can’t help but laugh at Jungwoo, and he’s succeeded in using humour to calm you down.

He’s grinning at you, and he taps his hand onto the bar top. “Let me make you a drink, on me, but you’ll be paying me with gossip, deal?”

“Deal.”

You trust Jungwoo to make you drinks by now, and he doesn’t ask what you want, he simply begins to mix a fruity concoction together. Soon, he’s setting it down in front of you and you’re taking a large gulp.

“So…” he grins. “Hyuck or Jae?”

“Are those my only options?”

Jungwoo’s eyes widen. “Spill the tea.”

“I just… I met this guy Johnny when I moved in-”

“Johnny as in super tall, blue collar, muscle man, Johnny?”

“Sounds like him,” you laugh.

“And you met him the first day you moved in?”

“He actually helped me with boxes and furniture.”

Jungwoo lets out a whistle. “Now I see why you’re overwhelmed.”

“I guess, I just don’t really know any of these guys too well. I’ve only met all of them once-”

“But you have a favourite,” Jungwoo interjects. “Johnny’s your favourite, despite his fucked up job.”

You sigh. “How could you tell?”

“I watch a lot of reality tv, in shows like Love is Blind or Singles Inferno sometimes a girl has multiple guys going for her, but the first one leaves a mark… it’s not always the case though, but it’s about that initial impact.”

“Impact,” you repeat. “Johnny definitely made an impact… and he saw the notes from Hyuck and Jae.”

“Oooooh,” Jungwoo grins, “scandalous.”

“But he works away for weeks at a time!”

“He’s here now,” Jungwoo points out. “So… go on a date with him, and sort out Hyuck and Jae after.”

“You think so?”

“What could be wrong about it?” Jungwoo shrugs. “Go on a date with Johnny, see how you feel- maybe he does something gross that turns you off and it makes life easier.”

“Or maybe he’s perfect and it makes things even worse,” you sigh.

“You never know until you try. Another thing from my dating shows is that no one wants to live with regrets, and I don’t think you do either.”

Seven:

You’d taken Jungwoo’s advice, and after two drinks at the bar, you’re home, waiting for a knock that sounds on your door.

Taking a deep breath, you fix your outfit, approaching your entry way to find Johnny standing in the hall. He looks all tall and gorgeous, in a similar laid back muscle shirt and sweats combo to the one you’d first seen him in. His hair is a little messy and damp as if he’d just come out of a shower, and the smell of his piney bodywash has you going weak.

“Hi,” he grins.

“Hi,” you smile back. “Uh, come in.”

Johnny nods, stepping past the threshold. “Are you a shoes off in the house kind of girl?”

“Yes, please.”

You watch him kick off his runners before turning to you. “I’m a little confused.”

“You are?”

“I got your text that you wanted me to come over, and I half expected you needed help building some cabinet or something, but then I remembered you’ve been here a month already, so now I don’t really know what I’m doing here.”

“I told you I’d buy you a beer for helping me move my stuff, remember?” You let out an awkward chuckle. “I don’t have beer, but I did open a bottle of wine.”

“That works,” Johnny grins.

“Come, sit.” You move to your living area, taking a seat on the couch. Johnny joins you, and you note the way he immediately shifts his body to be facing you. He watches you pour him a glass, and you both notice your shaky hand as you pass it to him.

“How much have you been drinking, 304?”

“A bit.”

“Rough day?” he enquires with a smile.

“Just…” you let out a deep breath. “Not used to all the attention I’m getting here.”

“Yeah, your entourage.” Johnny sips his drink, still grinning as if this is the funniest thing in the world.

“Would you believe me if I told you I’m not the kind of person who loves getting a lot of attention?”

Johnny cocks his head to the side. “I think it’s hard for a girl who looks like you to avoid that sort of thing.”

God, he is into you, you can taste it- or maybe that’s the sweet notes of your wine.

You don’t know what to say, but you feel a grin appear on your face, your eyes shifting down to your glass. “I don’t know about that.”

“Just an observation,” Johnny laughs. “So… what are you going to do about all of this?”

“I think…” you swallow thickly. “I think I’m doing something right now.”

“Yeah?”

You look up at him, smiling. “Yeah.”

Now it’s Johnny’s turn to be at a loss for words, and you get the sense that this isn’t something that happens very often to him.

“I’m sure you know what it’s like to get a lot of attention,” you offer.

Johnny shrugs. “I’m only in town a week every month, and when I’m here I spend most of my time at the gym or at home. I’ve never been a big party guy, I prefer cheap beer to bars, and I guess I’ve just accepted that a guy like me has to be single.”

“You have to be?” you enquire, cocking your head to the side in a bid to understand him better.

“Most girls aren’t interested in starting anything with a man who works on a rig. I understand the guys who have girls before the job, and they stay after building a foundation, but it’s hard to work on the start of a relationship when you’re not around.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” you nod- in fact, it’s something you’ve considered to great length already. “If… if the right girl came along, would that be something you’re interested in exploring?”

Johnny lets out a deep breath. “That’s a good question.”

You watch him sip his wine, giving him the space to consider it.

“I just… I wouldn’t want a girl to feel like she’s an afterthought, or a fuck buddy- and doing the work I do, I have to be focused. It’s day rate, it’s dangerous, sometimes the rigs are a couple hours away from camp, and that’s on top of a twelve hour shift-” He lets out another deep sigh. “I think it would take a very special, very loyal kind of girl to give me a chance.”

“And what would you say your type is?”

His eyes meet yours. “I love a cute girl next door.”

Your heart thumps in your chest. “Funny, I like a boy next door.”

“Then it’s a good thing we’re neighbours.”

Johnny lifts his glass and you clink yours together, giggling.

It’s crazy how things can feel so comfortable with him already- but in the background of your mind there’s a sense of dread looming, after all, he’s leaving in just two or so days.

“Can I be honest with you?” you ask.

“Of course.”

“I’m sad you’re leaving soon.”

“I’m not leaving yet,” he points out.

“You know what I mean.”

Johnny shifts, resting his arm on the back of your couch. “I have a proposition for you, 304.”

“God, stop calling me 304,” you laugh.

“It feels like we’re interested in each other, but I get the sense you’re unsure about the long distance aspect. What if we hang out tonight, tomorrow I take you on an actual date, and if things go well, we could talk about what communication would look like when I’m away.”

“You know what?” you take a deep breath. “I would like that.”

“But… I have on condition.”

“Hit me.”

Johnny is quiet for a moment. “I’m aware that, no matter how good our dates tonight and tomorrow are, me being away might be too much for you. You have two other guys who are interested and they live here, so… even though I’m a cuddly person, I think it’s better for both of us if we keep things PG before I leave, that way… I mean, if you chose one of them because distance is too much, at least things won’t be awkward for us, and we can still be friends.”

“I think…” - as much as you hate the idea and want to climb him like a tree - “I think that might be the most mature way to handle this.”

Johnny nods. “So… what are your thoughts on aliens?”

“Huh?”

“UFO’s, UAP’s, USP’s-”

“What even are all of those?” you laugh.

“Unidentified flying objects, unidentified aerial phenomenon, which is pretty much another term for UFO’s, unidentified submersible phenomenon-”

You shake your head at him in affectionate shock. “Where did you learn all of this?”

“History network,” Johnny grins. “Listen, why would I ask you surface level questions when we can dive into conspiracy theory? UFO’s are a good way to bounce into all sorts of topics, religion, politics, current and historical events-”

He’s a little odd, but you suppose you understand where he’s coming from now. You decide to give up control, and you lean into his question, loving the twists and turns that the conversation takes. You talk about everything, from the moon landing, to ancient monolithic structures and tv shows about space, a discussion about recent alien films leads to an analysis on favourite actors-

Before you even know it, hours have passed, the wine bottle is empty, and you feel as if you know him a lot better than when he’d first entered your apartment.

“Do you work tomorrow?” he asks.

You sigh, looking at the time. “At nine.”

“I should probably get out of your hair then. When are you off?”

“Fiveish.”

Johnny stands up, stretching, and you can’t help the way your eyes move to the exposed strip of V-line when his shirt rises. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow at fiveish, 304.”

You rise to your feet, pleasantly surprised when the gentle giant pulls you in for a hug. God, the feeling of his chest against your cheek- the soft cotton of his muscle shirt and the scent of his cologne- you release a deep breath, fully melting into what must be one of the best hugs of your life.

“I’ll text you,” Johnny says, and as he does so, his lips brush the crown of your head.

He’d said PG, and you suppose this is PG, but fuck, you want more.

Eight:

Out of all the possible date venues, you hadn’t expected bowling. Johnny had told you to dress casually, he’d picked you up, and taken you down to a massive black truck- he’d driven you around town, pointing things out to you, and you’d ended up at a small, underground bowling bar.

He’s a bit of a goof ball, but you can tell he’s got experience playing this game. To compensate for your lack of skills, he does all sorts of trick shots that make him miss points, and you appreciate his effort to not decimate you.

You drink beer and chat and play, and again, it feels so natural with him.

When the game is over, the two of you get in the truck, and Johnny says he wants to show you something. A fifteen minute drive leads you to the edge of town, on a lookout that’s perfect now that it’s dark and the small city’s lights are sparkling.

“Do you take all your dates here?” you tease.

Johnny chuckles. “Would you believe me if I told you I haven’t been on a date in a while?”

“I guess with your job, I would,” you pause, looking over at him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

The large man releases a sigh. “I had a highschool sweetheart,” he starts. “But as time went by, she couldn’t deal with me being a blue collar man. She was very corporate, and our life styles weren’t exactly a match. When she broke up with me, I switched from construction to the rig jobs, figured it would be easier to just put my head down and work. Been doing that for about six years now.”

“So you haven’t dated since highschool?” you ask in shock.

“There’ve been a couple of things here and there. Took a few summers off, had flings, but shit always hit the fan when I went back to work.”

“That makes sense,” you nod.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m a family man at heart,” he assures you. “As a supervisor, I definitely make enough money to take care of the people in my life, but it’s always been a time issue.” Johnny takes a breath, and then he meets your gaze. “What about you? Any skeletons in your closet?”

“Had a couple of failed relationships, the last one inspired me to move away from my home city and come here so I guess there’s a silver lining to it. Ended things with my ex about a year ago and nothing really felt the same after that, figured a change of scenery would do me good.”

“And has it? Done you good?”

You look over at the gorgeous man sitting next to you. “Definitely.”

It feels like the perfect moment to kiss him, and you note the way his gaze dips to your lips, but then he pulls back, letting out a sigh. “You’re dangerous.”

“Me!?” You act scandalized.

“Yes, you, little miss 304.”

You can only laugh, doing your best to enjoy the rest of your date with him while the knowledge that he’s leaving tomorrow haunts in your periphery.

Nine:

Johnny’s been gone for three days, and he’s been true to his word when you’d discussed communication while he’s on the rig. He’s kept contact with you, sending good morning messages for you to wake up to, and texting or calling in the late evening when he’s off work.

However, other things have progressed as well. You’d come out of your apartment this morning to find not one, but two bouquets waiting for you, and you feel as if this thing with Jaehyun and Hyuck is getting out of hand.

You find yourself at Jungwoo’s bar again, giving him the rundown on everything that has happened.

“So you’re like, set on Johnny then, huh?” your friend asks.

“I’m not sure, it’s only been three days that he’s been gone but I miss him already, and I can’t even imagine what it will be like to wait another nineteen days-”

“You always knew distance would be a struggle,” Jungwoo nods.

You groan, taking a sip of your fruity cocktail. “I just can’t believe Jaehyun and Hyuck left flowers at my door.”

“You’re going to have to do something about them.”

“Like what?”

“Reject or accept, babes,” Jungwoo says simply.

“Accept?”

“You’re not technically dating Johnny yet. It sounds like he understands you might go on a date or two while he’s gone, I mean, you had that whole conversation about keeping things PG so it’s not awkward if he comes back and you’ve chosen someone else- it feels like he’s giving you breathing room to explore.”

You can only sigh, resting your head in your hands.

“Do you want to explore?” Jungwoo enquires.

“I don’t know.”

“Well, you’re going to bump into Jaehyun or Hyuck sometime, so you better figure it out fast.”

Ten:

As you’re returning from happy hour with Jungwoo, you run into your building manager. He’s a young man named Doyoung. He has a very regal look to him, and he’s as attractive as most of the men on the third floor.

He’s in the small building office, and as you walk past, he stops you.

“y/n!” he calls, waving you inside, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you!”

Your heart sinks- your payment wasn’t late, was it? Did you get a noise complaint? Your mind begins to race-

“I heard that people have been leaving notes and flowers at your door,” Doyoung tells you. “As you’re a young woman who is new to the building, I wanted to check in with you and make sure you’re not being harassed.”

Your brain short circuits- it’s one thing for Jungwoo and other people on the third floor to know about your ‘secret admirers’ but another for your building manager to be broaching the topic with you.

“I uh,” you swallow thickly. “I’m not being harassed.”

Doyoung gives you a pointed look. “You’d tell me if you were, right?”

“Of course,” you assure him. “It’s all just playful, nothing… nefarious.”

God, you hate how proper you’re trying to sound, but how else are you supposed to explain this situation to Doyoung?

This is so awkward, who knew moving into a new apartment would be this fucking complex?

Eleven:

You’re in the lobby checking your mailbox when the front door opens and Jaehyun walks in. His hair is windswept, and he looks like he’s getting back from the gym. He immediately flashes you that dimpled smile and your heart begins to thunder in your rib cage.

“Hey, you,” he grins. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah, I’ve uh… been busy,” you offer, quickly closing your mail box.

“Seems that way,” Jaehyun muses, and you realize he’s waiting to go to the elevator with you.

Taking a deep breath, you pull up your big girl panties, walking with him to the lift.

He hits the button, turning to you. “So-”

The elevator opens and you find Hyuck standing there, having just come up from the underground parkade, and suddenly you feel like a deer caught in headlights.

“Hiya, hot stuff,” Hyuck grins. “Going up?”

Part of you wants to turn and run away, but you’re in too deep now to go back, so you enter the elevator with the two men who’ve been fighting for space on your door, and maybe also in your heart.

“How’ve you been?” Hyuck asks.

“I’ve been good, just busy,” you mutter quickly, hitting the ‘close door’ button in the hope that it saves you even one second in this awkward elevator ride.

“You coming from the gym?” Hyuck’s line of questioning has taken a turn, and you realize he’s addressing Jaehyun next to you.

“Yup, you?”

“Was just out,” Hyuck responds vaguely.

You get the sense that these two might know each other in passing, after all, you all live on the same floor, but at the same time, it’s somewhat clear from their muted interaction that they’re not particularly close.

It’s an awkward, silent minute in the elevator, but it’s even more awkward when you all get off on the third floor, with both men letting you exit first, only to struggle in a pissing match over who follows you.

They end up tracing your steps to your door, and when you get there, they both stop.

“Wait,” Hyuck breathes, and you watch him look from you to Jaehyun then back again. “You must be sticky note dude.”

“And you’re flowers guy,” Jaehyun sighs.

Both of them turn to you and it’s Hyuck who asks, “You’re still single right?”

It must be obvious to them both that if they’re warring at your doorstep, neither of them actually have your number just yet, and while it’s awkward to be put on the spot like this, you understand their confusion.

“Still single,” you assure them, fumbling with your keys. “I uh, actually have only lived here a month, and I’m still getting settled-” you search for the right words while trying not to drop your phone. “I appreciate the interest from you both, but this has gotten a little out of hand- Doyoung asked me about all of this yesterday-”

“Doyoung?” Hyuck scoffs. “What does he care if we leave notes and flowers at your door?”

“I guess he’s just concerned about my safety?” you offer.

While you can tell that Jaehyun understands, Hyuck still seems a little slow to the pick up, rolling his eyes. “As if we’d ever do anything bad.”

Which is funny, coming from a guy who’s supposedly a drug dealer.

“I think I just need some space,” you say finally, shocked by the conviction in your own voice as you slip your key into the lock. “To… you know, settle.”

“I’m sure we can give you some space,” Jaehyun offers, and you can tell from his tone that it’s a warning to Hyuck not to argue.

The plug sighs. “Yeah, we can give some space.”

They’re both very handsome, and upon different circumstances, one of them doing the sticky note and flowers trick might have swayed you, but the fact that it’s become something of a war between them has turned you off. The seriousness in Doyoung’s discussion with you yesterday had made you realize as much, and you’d be lying if you said your growing connection with Johnny didn’t have anything to do with it either.

Twelve:

After the debacle with Jaehyun and Hyuck, you’d anxiously awaited a call with Johnny when he was done work and back at the camp. But now, as you talk to him on the phone, you hesitate about divulging in the events that took place today.

Johnny’s making an effort with you, but you can hear in his voice that he’s exhausted, and you don’t want to add pressure to his shoulders-

“Are you okay, 304?” Johnny asks.

“Hmm?”

“You’re just a bit quiet.”

“I’m thinking,” you admit with a sigh.

“Sounds intense, what’s up?”

Another deep breath escapes you. “So… remember the whole secret admirer thing?”

“Uh huh.”

“They left flowers on my doorstep a few days ago too, and Doyoung actually pulled me aside to ask me about it- he was worried I’m being harassed, and it just makes me think about, you know, being a young woman in a new city and my safety…”

You trail off and Johnny takes the opportunity to empathize, softly telling you, “Being anxious about this sort of thing is reasonable given the circumstances.”

“It’s not that I think Jaehyun or Hyuck would ever overstep-”

“Well, they left notes, and you didn’t respond, so they left flowers, it’s not exactly a sign that they’re going to back off.”

“I guess that’s true,” you admit.

“Anyways, you were saying, about Doyoung?”

You love how Johnny can get you back on track, and you take another deep breath to steady yourself. “I saw Jaehyun and Hyuck in the elevator today, and they both walked me to my door which was super awkward, and I guess I pretty much ended up telling them both that I needed space. Part of me wasn’t sure if I should tell you any of this, I know you’re tired after work a long day, but I guess I want to be transparent with you about everything.”

The line is quiet for a moment, and when Johnny speaks, you can tell he’s choosing his words carefully. “I appreciate you bringing it up,” he starts. “If I’m being honest, I’m a little shocked you didn’t accept either of their offers to get drinks.”

Your heart lurches in your chest. “Really?”

“Yeah, I mean, I thought I’d made it clear that I’d understand if you did-”

“Just because you’d understand it doesn’t mean I was going to do it,” you tell him.

Johnny chuckles. “I suppose that’s true. I just, I don’t know, you don’t owe me anything- and maybe you’re just not interested in either of them, but I hope you didn’t say no to them to… spare my feelings or something?”

“Well… are your feelings spared?”

Another laugh escapes him. “I just mean to say, this wouldn’t be the first time a girl thought she could do long distance, only to get a better option in town and jump ship.”

“Maybe I’m not like the other girls you’ve dated,” you tell him.

“It’s starting to feel like you’re not.” You can hear the fondness in his voice, and it makes your heart race faster in your chest.

“When I get one man in my head, I can’t think about another. I’m not the type to jump ship,” you explain. “You’ve given me no reason to.”

“Except the distance,” he muses.

“Even with the distance, you’ve been attentive every day, and I’ve really appreciated that. You know, some guys will live in the same city as you, take you on one date, then not talk to you for five days- you and I did two dates back to back, and we’ve been talking consistently ever since.”

“Like I said, I didn’t want you to feel like an afterthought.”

“And I don’t want you to feel like just an option.”

The line is quiet for a moment, then Johnny laughs. “There you go, being dangerous again.”

“If being genuine is dangerous, then I’m the most dangerous woman you’ll ever meet, Johnny.”

“I work on a rig, 304, I happen to like danger.”

Thirteen:

You’re drinking wine with Jungwoo in your livingroom when your phone dings, and a smile spreads across your face when you see it’s a text from Johnny.

“One second,” you tell him, putting down your wine to respond to your blue collar man.

“Johnny?” Jungwoo grins knowingly.

“Yup, he’s just telling me he’s off work, but now it’s a two hour drive back to the camp.”

“So our girls’ night is over in two hours, got it,” Jungwoo jokes, except, is it really a joke if it’s true?

You can only laugh, shaking your head and setting your phone down again.

“You like him,” Jungwoo notes. “You like him a lot.”

“I do,” you confess.

“You told Jaehyun and Hyuck off because of him,” your friend continues.

“Uh huh.” You take a sip of your wine, trying to ignore the knowing expression on Jungwoo’s face.

“So… has it gotten sexual yet? You know, asking for snaps of your tits-”

“Jungwoo!” you squeal, nearly spilling your wine as you go to gently smack his arm.

“What!? It’s a valid question!”

“No! It’s not sexual yet! I mean… I think we both have those feelings, but right now… we’re just, getting to know each other.”

“And when he’s home?” Jungwoo cocks a brow and you giggle even more.

“When he’s home…” you lower your voice, “I’m going to climb that man like a tree.”

“I knew it!” Jungwoo cheers. “Team Johnny!”

You clink your glasses in agreement, waiting for Jungwoo to settle down a little. He’s way too invested in your love life, but you kind of adore it.

“You know…” Jungwoo trails off, “some rig guys do mostly winters, then come back for the summer and will take a couple of months off. I remember seeing Johnny more frequently last August.”

“He mentioned that,” you admit.

“Did he say if he plans to do that this year? It’s almost March, so that’s April, May, maybe June… three or four more stints up there until a possible summer of love?”

You laugh at his choice of words, but your heart races at the notion of getting to spend your whole summer with Johnny, of a relationship of normalcy.

“I’ll have to talk to him about it,” you decide.

“Maybe send some sexy snaps to tempt him, or talk about it once he’s home and you’ve sucked that dick, you know, incentives.”

“You’re so bad,” you giggle.

“I’m a hit of realism, which is what you need after living a fantasy for a month with three men fighting over you.”

You let out a sigh. “I suppose you might be right about that.”

Fourteen:

“How was your day?” you ask, practically kicking your feet now that you get to talk to Johnny.

“Long,” he laughs. “You?”

“It was good, hung out with Jungwoo for a bit, had some wine.”

“I can hear it in your voice, 304, you always get extra cute when you’ve been drinking your wine.”

“Do I?”

“See? I can just imagine you kicking your feet right now.”

God, he knows you so well already- but you suppose that’s what happens when you talk to someone for hours every day.

“And now you probably stopped kicking your feet because you’re embarrassed,” he continues.

“You’re a psychic,” you declare.

“Sure I am.”

You take a breath. “There was actually something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“So… you mentioned that sometimes you have the summer off, and I guess, since it’s almost March, I was just wondering if you’d be around in June or July.”

“I mean, I wasn’t necessarily planning on it, but if that’s something you wanted, I could see what I could make happen.”

You pause, considering your words carefully. “I don’t want to tell you what to do… and, I don’t want you to lose out on money for me, especially since we just started dating, if you even call this dating- but, at the same time, I think, long term, it would be easier to manage you going away for six or more months if I knew you’d be back for at least part of the summer.”

“I do call this dating,” Johnny tells you. “So I’ll see what I can do about it.”

“I also wanted to know when you’re flight back is, I was thinking I could come grab you from the airport.”

Johnny chuckles. “I’ll send you the information, 304.”

Fifteen:

You’re waiting outside your car when you see Johnny coming out of the airport, and you simply can’t help yourself anymore. You run to him, throwing yourself into his arms.

Johnny chuckles, dropping his duffle to pull you closer, even going so far as to lift you off the ground, releasing a groan as he does so.

Fuck, he feels so good, and big, and warm-

When he sets you down, you throw inhibition out the window, grabbing the back of his neck to pull his lips down to your own.

He smiles into the kiss, his palm flattening against the small of your back, his mouth moving in harmony with your own. You kiss him deeply, pouring in all the emotion of having missed him for weeks-

It’s you who breaks the kiss, panting and looking up at him. “Let’s get you home,” you state.

“Whatever you say, 304.”

The drive back to the apartment complex is a blur, you’re so distracted by Johnny that you’re surprised you even make it back in one piece. The elevator ride is quiet, filled with tension, and you can practically feel happiness radiating off of both of you.

“Wanna come to mine?” Johnny suggests. “I need to have a quick shower, unpack a little.”

“Okay,” you nod, excited as you follow Johnny to his place.

He lets you in first, and you eagerly eat up what’s in front of you, looking for details of the decor that might help you know this man even better.

However, you find that his apartment is sparsely decorated, with bare necessities, a minimalist look, which you suppose makes sense given the fact that he’s hardly here.

“Your place is nicer,” Johnny muses as he kicks off his shoes.

“It’s just more furnished,” you laugh, not minding the lack of items.

“My bedroom is this way,” Johnny explains, heading into it while you follow slowly. He throws his bag on the floor next to his bed before turning to you. “I’m going to wash up a bit, then we can do whatever you want… or, I mean, you could always join me in the shower if that works better.”

He winks at you, and it’s very playful. You can only laugh, shaking your head and feeling your skin flush with heat as you look at the ground.

“I’ll be here,” you tell him, but when he disappears into the bathroom, you find your heart is still racing.

Should you go in the shower with him?

He had offered for you to join…

Can you be a bit more patient?

No. You can’t. As you stand in his bedroom, you begin to undress, hyping yourself up for the moment that you’ve been waiting for.

After a deep breath, you knock gently on the door to his bathroom.

“Come in!” he calls over the sound of water spray, and you peek your head into the enclosed space.

The room is full of steam, and the glassy walls of the shower are fogged up, but you can see the outline of Johnny’s body and it has you drooling.

You slip inside, closing the door behind you before making your way to the shower.

“Can I join you?” you ask, giving him one last opportunity to decide if this was a bad idea-

“Get in here.” Johnny opens the shower door, grabs your arm and tugs you inside with him. You blink against the mist, looking up at the large man who’s currently blocking the spray of water from hitting you. “Didn’t think you’d actually join,” he muses with a grin.

“Me neither,” you admit.

Johnny strokes your arm, fingers trailing up so he can cup your face. His thumb brushes by your cheekbone and you lean into his warm touch, releasing a moan.

“Do you want to do this here, or would you rather we wait till I can get you onto my bed?” he asks.

“Here,” you tell him. “I’m tired of waiting.”

“Didn’t take you as the impatient type,” Johnny chuckles.

“I’ve been patient, for weeks,” you laugh.

“I guess that’s true, let’s fix that.” The tall man leans down, pressing his lips to your own. You immediately wrap your arms around his strong, wet shoulders, pressing your chests together as the kiss deepens.

You can feel your nipples hardening against him, and his hands move to grab at your hips, pulling you even tighter to his body.

Something is beginning to press against your abdomen, and you love that you’re getting him hard already, that he’s as into you as you are into him.

His palm slips down, and he grabs a handful of your ass, squeezing deliciously. You break the kiss to throw your head back, eyes closed as you enjoy the sensation of him.

“You know the only bad thing about shower sex?” Johnny asks, lips hot against your throat now. “Water isn’t lube, so I guess you’re going to have to be a good girl for me and wait just a little longer while I get you nice and wet for me.”

“I’m already wet,” you insist.

Johnny only chuckles, squeezing your ass harder as he licks at the sweet spot on your throat. “Let me enjoy this, I’ve been thinking about it for weeks.”

“Really?” you groan. “I never would have noticed, you’re always so PG.”

“I’m not going to be PG anymore.”

“Thank god!” A shiver runs through your body at the idea of what ‘rated R Johnny’ is going to look like- and as he pushes his thigh up between your own, you’re so grateful that you no longer have to wonder, you’re about to find out exactly how dirty this blue collar man can get.

Johnny laughs again, but as he laughs, he pushes his thigh up even higher, making contact with your clit.

“Fuck, I haven’t been touched in so long,” you whimper, immediately grinding down against him.

“Well, you deserve this, you’ve been a very patient, very good girl for me.”

“I have been,” you nod, rubbing your clit harder against his large, muscled thigh.

“Had options, but you stayed loyal, even when you didn’t have to.” Johnny’s still kissing your throat, and he nuzzles up against your ear, biting your lobe gently. “I feel like those choices have earned you many rewards.”

His words are something like praise- appreciation almost, and you’re thankful that he’s taken into account the fact that you’ve made important decisions to put this blooming relationship first, even when - as Jungwoo said - you had no actual defined loyalty keeping you tied to this tall man.

“I just like you a lot,” you moan, feeling overwhelmed with the possibilities of a relationship with this man- a man who has communicated that he’s interested in something long term, which is such a stark contrast to most of the men you deal with these days.

God, to have hope for a man again- it’s such a foreign feeling.

“I like you too, 304.”

“Johnny,” you groan, “call me something else.”

“I think 304 is cute,” he grins against your throat.

“Please?”

“Okay, baby, I’ll call you anything you want,” Johnny promises, adjusting his grip on you so he can trail his hand up your torso, putting a slight distance between your bodies now so he can cup your breast. His thumb rubs over your hard nipple and you whimper, grinding harder against his thigh. “You are a baby, aren’t you, pretty girl?”

“Yes,” you whimper.

“I could also see you as a bit of a princess,” he muses, pinching your nipple and making you gasp loudly. “Adorable little pretty princess baby.”

He might be overdoing it with the pet names, but you can’t even bring yourself to care- in fact, this overt cheesiness is doing something to you, making your pussy throb as you grind against his wet skin.

“That’s it,” Johnny groans, “I kind of want to watch you get off on my thigh.”

“Yeah?” You swallow thickly, reaching for his hard cock. You’re a little taken aback by how large he is, but you guess you shouldn’t be all that surprised. You’ve been shy so far, not even taking so much as a peek at what you’re going to be working with- and maybe that had been a mistake. You’d been so sure of yourself earlier when you’d told Johnny you could take him without prep, and now you’re realizing how wrong you had been.

A deep moan escapes Johnny as you begin to stroke him, and he rolls your nipple between his fingers, making you cry out- only for his hand to move away, along with his thigh.

You want to protest- only for two digits to press between your pussy lips, teasing your entrance but not pushing in- just playing, toying, moving up to your clit then back down.

“Fuck,” you whimper.

“You definitely feel wet,” Johnny muses.

“So finger fuck me?” you suggest, applying more pressure to his cock as you stroke him off.

“Hmm?” He circles your clit teasingly, being so gentle that your body is already practically begging for more.

“Please finger fuck me?” you ask, your free hand now clutching his forearm in desperation.

“Only because you asked so nicely.”

Johnny cups the back of your head, pulling your lips to his as his fingers enter your hot core for the first time.

Fuck, his fingers alone are enough to stretch you out and it feels absolutely delightful.

He starts slow, testing the waters as his digits explore your inner walls gently, but as the kiss deepens so do his motions.

You’re absolutely lost in him, whimpering and moaning- your hips even begin to move, eagerly seeking out stimulus that he grants when his palm presses flat to your clit.

“Fuck,” you gasp, holding his strong, veiny forearm even tighter.

“Feels good?” he asks, looking down at you with lust filled eyes.

“Feels so good,” you nod, fighting the urge to just close your eyes and enjoy it, while also wanting to stare up at this gorgeous man who is watching you with clear interest.

You take a shuddery breath, trying to focus on stroking his cock, but he makes it more difficult when he crooks his fingers up, hitting that sweet spongy spot inside of you that has your legs shaking.

“Are you going to be able to stand through all of this?” Johnny chuckles. “That’s the other bad thing about shower sex, it’s a slipping risk.”

“I think I can do it,” you insist, not wanting him to stop his motions for even one moment.

“Just hold onto me tightly okay, but if you start to fall, uh… don’t pull my dick off.”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, and Johnny joins you with a chuckle of his own.

This feels so natural, so safe- the fact that you’re both giggling during your first sexual experience together is a great sign, and it makes you relax a little more, which only adds to the pleasure that’s starting to throb out from your core.

“You close?” Johnny asks, sensing the shift in your attention.

“Too close,” you nod, swallowing thickly in an effort to control yourself.

“Want you to cum on my fingers,” he tells you. “You can do that for me, right princess?”

“Uh huh.” Your mind is becoming clouded by lust, and it’s making it harder for you to respond to him-

His fingers are moving fast now, pistoning in and out of you with just the right amount of pressure, his palm stimulating your clit in a way that’s just enough-

You’re getting closer and closer to the edge and you don’t feel like slowing down.

Your eyes close, your breathing becoming haggard as your muscles tighten with anticipation-

“Cum on my fingers, baby,” Johnny groans. “Wanna feel it.”

With that, you explode, unable to contain yourself anymore as his filthy words vibrate through your entire being like a mantra. The pleasure is intense, your core clamping down on his digits, body throbbing deliciously as you give yourself over to the feeling of it.

Your legs are weak, and you grab Johnny’s forearm tighter, digging your nails against his skin.

It’s the kind of ecstasy that you never want to end, and it’s clear that Johnny’s not going to be the one to pull the rug out from under you. He keeps you steady, working you through your high until your legs are physically shaking.

Only once he’s sure you’re finished does Johnny pull his hand away.

You open your eyes to watch him slip his fingers into his mouth, groaning at the taste of you, and an echo of pleasure throbs through your pussy again.

“You’re so pretty when you cum,” Johnny tells you.

“Want you inside of me, now,” you respond.

“Hmmm… not yet.”

“What?”

“You almost just fell over, I don’t think this is the safest place to do this,” Johnny laughs. “Come on, let's get out of the shower, dry off, and I’ll take you to my bed, like I’d planned.”

“Is it really that bad to fuck me here?” you whine.

“One, I don’t want you to slip, and two, I don’t want our first time to be here, you deserve a proper bed, so I can cuddle you after.”

“You’re such a romantic,” you tease, but your heart swells at the notion of a man actually taking care of you.

“You love it,” Johnny insists.

He reaches behind himself, turning off the spray of water, then, he helps you out of the enclosed space. “Here,” Johnny passes you a towel, quickly patting himself down with his own before wrapping it around his waist, then he begins to help dry you off.

“I can do this part,” you assure him.

“I want to take care of you,” Johnny muses as his palms massage your breasts through the towel, making sure they’re extra dry.

“I think you just want to touch my tits again,” you grin.

“That too,” Johnny laughs.

“Predictable,” you toy.

“You think so?”

“Uh huh.”

In one quick motion, Johnny grabs you by the hips and lifts you onto the washroom countertop, tearing the towel away and discarding it haphazardly as he sinks to his knees.

“I think I’m going to make you cum on my tongue before I fuck you, you know, to prove how predictable I am.”

You don’t even have a moment to argue, Johnny pushes your thighs open, pulls you to the edge of the counter, and dives into your core with his tongue.

You immediately latch onto his damp hair, throwing your head back as his mouth begins to work your pussy. You’re still sensitive from having just cum, and the sensation of his lips now wrapping around your clit has your muscles clenching with pleasure already.

“Fuck-” you whimper, loving the way Johnny’s fingers are digging into your thighs, holding you open for a tongue that has a mind of its own.

You especially adore how messy he’s being. There are no kitten licks, no hesitancies, just a full-on lust fuelled ravaging of your core- nothing in your life has ever felt this fucking good.

You tug on Johnny’s hair roughly, but he’s unrelenting, in fact, you think he kind of likes the inkling of pain because he groans against your clit, licking at you sloppily while his nose bumps your sensitive bud over and over.

For a man who doesn’t do one night stands very often, he definitely knows his way around a pussy.

“Shit,” you moan, louder this time, your muscles tightening more and more-

You’re not used to men behaving this way with you, worshiping your body and putting your pleasure first. To have two back to back orgasms before he’s even taken anything for himself? Unheard of.

You can tell he wants you to cum, can tell that he’s eager for it, and the wet licks of his tongue against your sensitive pussy are ensuring that his preferred outcome happens sooner rather than later.

You give in to the feeling, deciding to relinquish control. If he wants to make you cum fast, then you can cum fast, and all of your attention moves to the feeling of pleasure that’s radiating out from your core.

Your abdominal muscles are tightening deliciously, and you begin to buck your hips a little, trying to ride his tongue while you hold him tight to your pussy by his hair.

Johnny groans again and the vibration of it sends a shiver of delight through your entire body.

“Fuck, I’m gonna-” You swallow thickly, brows furrowing with effort as you latch onto that feeling of euphoria, unwilling to let it drift away- “just like that, just like that-”

He sucks lewdly on your clit, flicking it with his tongue, and that’s all you need to explode, your pussy clamping down hard on nothing, squeezing and squelching sinfully.

You’re gasping loudly, moaning like a whore as your orgasm washes over you in waves- and like your first high, Johnny is just as unrelenting with this one.

He doesn’t pull away, and with so much attention focused on your throbbing clit, it’s almost too much for you to handle.

You begin to push at Johnny’s head, but he’s like a brick wall, unmoving and diligent in his task.

“Oh my god-” your voice is raising with effort, raising with the euphoria that’s threatening to overwhelm you completely. “Johnny- too much-”

This time, he allows you to push him away, and you sink back down against the countertop, chest heaving with effort. Your legs twitch with aftershocks from your orgasm, and you can’t even bring yourself to open your eyes yet, still lost in the ecstasy he’d just provided.

“You okay, princess?” Johnny asks, and you can sense him rising to his feet, his eyes inspecting you.

“Overstimulated,” you admit, another shock washing through you and making you jolt.

“I got side tracked,” Johnny admits, and you peer out at him from under hooded lids to see him sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’s okay, it was just a lot,” you assure him, reaching out to gently stroke his forearm.

“Come on,” Johnny coaxes, lifting you off the sink so he can carry you to his room, “let’s give you a breather.”

He lays you gently onto his mattress, moving the blankets so you can get under the warm duvet.

The sheets smell like him, a manly pine scent, and it makes you groan, burying your face against the pillows while your brain tries to reaclimatize after a mind shattering orgasm.

Johnny joins you, and you instinctively cuddle close to his chest, delighted by the way his large arms wrap around you to hold you close.

“Just give me a sec,” you whisper, but even as the words leave your lips, your hand snakes down to his cock, and you gently wrap your fingers around the thick length.

Johnny chuckles. “Part of me thought you’d be too tired to actually fuck now.”

“Never,” you tell him, although you’re so exhausted from two extreme orgasms that there’s little conviction in the tone of your voice.

“Take your time,” Johnny assures you, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head while you languidly stroke his large cock. Unlike in the shower, however, there’s no lubrication of any kind, and soon, you tire of it.

“Okay,” you tell him, sitting up, “I can ride you.”

“Are you sure you want to be on top?” he blinks in shock.

“Just to start, just to get used to your size,” you assure him.

“Whatever you want, princess.”

You swing your leg over Johnny’s hips, straddling him, and his hands find your waist.

“Actually, let me grab some lube,” he says, sitting up abruptly. The muscles in his abdomen ripple under the skin, and you’re taken aback by just how beautiful this man is even as he’s reaching for his bedside table.

He pulls out a green bottle, squirting some of the gell into his palm before he grabs his cock.

You kind of love the view of his large hand on his massive cock, stroking up and down-

“Like what you see?” he laughs.

“You’re just so perfect,” you muse.

“That makes two of us I guess,” Johnny grins. “Okay, whenever you’re ready.”

He’s all lathered up now, and you grab the base of his cock, guiding yourself down on the tip.

As you sink down even an inch, you groan at the stretch.

He’s covered in lube, and you’re definitely more than lubricated from two orgasms, but fuck- having not had sex in ages only to take the biggest cock of your life is definitely an adjustment for your tight pussy.

“Take it slow,” he assures you, tightening his grip on your hips to keep you steady as you gently sink down further on his cock.

“I’m good, you’re just so big,” you whimper.

Johnny only chuckles at your words, his eyes fixed on the meeting of your bodies.

“Not sure I can take it all like this,” you admit.

“I’ve heard that when a girl is on top, things feel deeper,” Johnny muses. “Don’t feel like you have to take it all right now, we can work up to that.”

“Okay,” you nod, “I’m going to bounce a bit.”

“Works for me, princess.”

You close your eyes, leaning over him and placing your hands firmly on his chest as an anchor as you begin to move up and down. The feeling of his massive cock against your inner walls has your body singing with pleasure already, and you begin to moan.

“Fuck,” Johnny groans, his fingers digging into your hips. “Feels good.”

“So good,” you agree with another whimper.

One of Johnny’s hands moves from your hip to your breast, and he begins to massage the sensitive flesh as you ride him gently. The sensation of him tweaking your nipple has you groaning, your pussy clenching incredibly tight around him, which makes both of you cry out desperately.

“Fuck, let me know when you want me to take over,” Johnny tells you, and you get the sense that you might be killing him a little with the slowness of your pace. His hips twitch, and you suspect that he’s doing everything in his power not to madly thrust up into you, which is something you appreciate greatly.

You ride him for a little while longer, and then you give up, legs burning with effort already. “Okay, okay, you can top now.”

You pull off of his cock, and Johnny helps you roll down onto the bed, your back hitting the mattress.

Instead of just getting on top of you, however, he stays on his side and leans over you, pressing his lips to yours while his hand continues to massage your breast.

You groan against his lips, threading your fingers through his hair desperately as his tongue invades your mouth.

He kisses you until you’re breathless, until your pussy is pulsing with desire, only then does he get between your legs, bringing the head of his cock to your awaiting hole.

“If you ever need me to slow down, or be less rough, or anything, just let me know,” he tells you, swallowing thickly as he gazes at your body.

“Just do it, Johnny,” you assure him, stroking his forearm. “Please.”

You watch his adam’s apple bob with effort again, and he slowly pushes the head of his cock into your wet hole, making you cry out. You grip his arm tighter, closing your eyes to enjoy the stretching sensation.

He sinks into you, inch by inch, gently thrusting to get you used to the intrusion.

When he’s almost fully inside of you, Johnny leans over your body, his elbows making contact with the bed on either side of your head so he can be in something of a plank position overtop of you.

You can feel his breath on your face, and you open your eyes to look up at him, your hand moving to cup his cheek while your legs wrap loosely around his waist.

“You can fuck me now,” you tease, grinning at how slow and gentle he’s been up until this point. “Please.”

Johnny presses his lips to yours, and just like that, he begins to move.

Each thrust is unbound pleasure, his hips moving fluidly as he gradually increases his pace. His long cock hits deep spots inside of you that have you crying out, wrapping your arms tightly around his shoulders while your tongues battle for dominance in the most heated kiss of your life.

He’s moaning too, and it sounds so good- making your pussy even wetter as he decimates it perfectly.

You love the feeling of his large body pressing down against your own, his hard muscles are delightful under your touch when you skim your hand along his shoulders.

He’s steadily increasing the power behind each thrust, and now, the bed is beginning to rock with his movements, delighting you even more.

How can this man have so much raw power, but still be so gentle and careful when it matters most?

You might be a little obsessed with him, but as his massive cock hits your g-spot, you suppose it’s no wonder your feelings are growing at a rapid pace.

He has you cock drunk, in a way that you’ve never experienced in the entirety of your life, and you kind of love it.

“Shit,” Johnny cusses, breaking your kiss so he can press his mouth to your throat. “I never- never asked about protection.”

“I’m covered,” you assure him.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you nod, swallowing thickly. “You can cum inside me.”

A deep groan escapes Johnny, and it vibrates through where your chests are pressed together.

“Don’t want to cum like this,” Johnny tells you, “it’s too soon.”

He pulls away, and you whimper when his cock leaves your wet hole. But then Johnny is manhandling you into doggy position, and you let out a moan of pleasure, arching your back and resting your head against the bed.

“You look good like this too,” Johnny muses as he pushes his cock back into you, his hands grabbing your hips roughly. “Always look so good.”

His praise is doing something to you, encouraging you enough to make you begin to move as well, doing your best to match his pace and push back against him with each thrust.

The sound of skin on skin fills the room, and your moans mingle in the air together.

“Fuck,” Johnny groans, railing into you even harder. “So fucking tight-”

“I’m close,” you assure him, “just let me-” you slip your hand between your thighs, fingers seeking out your sensitive clit. The moment you make contact, you feel your pussy contract around Johnny’s cock, and it makes you both moan loudly.

“Yeah, want you to cum with me,” Johnny tells you. “Want us to cum together.”

You don’t respond, too focused on your task as you begin to draw small circles around the sensitive bud.

God, nothing has ever felt this good, to be so completely full, while your clit is receiving attention at the same time-

The tension is quickly building in the pit of your stomach, and it’s clear to both of you that you’re rapidly approaching the edge-

“Here,” Johnny’s voice distracts you, and all of the sudden he’s hauling you onto your knees, pinning your back to his chest with an arm braced across your breasts, one hand cupping your boob like a seatbelt. You can feel his breath on your throat, and you quickly turn your head, seeking out his lips with your own.

His free hand pushes yours aside from your clit, applying even more pressure to your sensitive bud as he fucks into you erratically.

God, you feel him absolutely everywhere. You feel like a doll, suspended in time and space while this absolute unit of a man gives you all of the pleasure you could ever ask for, pulling at your strings like an expert.

He’s groaning more deeply- and with one more rough circle of your clit, you feel yourself come undone. You gasp against his lips, core clamping down on his cock-

A strangled sound escapes Johnny, his thrusts becoming even more erratic as he cums with you, coating your throbbing insides with his cum as you both fall off the edge together.

He’s clinging to you in a way a man has never clung to you, and you’re kissing him as if he’s the air you need to breathe. In this moment, it’s only you and him and this feeling of euphoria that you never want to give up.

He fucks you through your high until you’re both a panting mess, and then, he helps you back onto the bed, taking a deep breath.

“I’m going to go get some tissues,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You can only moan happily, inhaling the scent of pine as you cuddle against his pillow.

Johnny returns shortly, and he hands you some tissues to wipe his cum from your core.

“Should we take another shower or something?” Johnny asks, laughing a little at how messy you both are.

“Cuddles first,” you tell him.

Johnny grins, joining you on his bed, his strong arms immediately wrapping around you. “Cuddles first,” he agrees.

You both take deep breaths, and as your body begins to calm down while pressed against his, you know you made the right choice of man in this fucked up, love island-esque apartment complex that you now call home.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! This was way longer than I intended, which is why it took a minute to be posted, but I hope it was worth the wait!

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below!

🔮 preview. In the summer, Johnny’s not just a blue collar rig man, he’s a dude with friends, tanned skin from his obsession with the sun, and a taste for margaritas while sitting on boats between water skiing stints.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, use of toys, vibrator, nipple clamps, overstimulation, breast worship, use of lube, inklings of pain kink, hand job, fingering, multiple reader orgasms, etc… I petnames. (hers) princess

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.8k I teaser wc. 100

🌙 starring. Johnny x afab!Reader

bonus

People sometimes talk about a specific summer in their life being ‘the summer of dreams,’ and you never quite understood what could make one stretch of months so significant- but now, living life with Johnny by your side every day, it makes total sense.

In the few months you’ve been dating, he’s done his best to introduce you to friends, but with such a short time in town, it was always difficult to juggle friends, family, and your growing relationship.

Now that it’s summer, you get to see how Johnny is when he’s just being himself.

☀️ to read the full fic AND 2.8k bonus NOW, subscribe to my Patreon, then click here

👹 or check out what else is on my patreon here

🔮if nothing strikes your fancy, check out my m.list

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As I was short on time this month and unable to do a teaser, here's another shout out to some of my favourite blogs who interact with my work, I love you guys endlessly

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#johnny suh #johnny suh smut #nct #nct smut #nct 127 #nct 127 smut #johnny nct #nct johnny #johnny nct smut #nct johnny smut #nct 127 johnny #johnny nct 127 smut #nct 127 johnny smut #johnny suh x reader

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reilemon · 3 months ago

Text

Powdered Gold

⚠ MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY) ⚠

♡︎ synopsis: When you invited Caleb to stay at your place in hopes of rekindling your friendship, you didn’t realize you’d be inviting the feelings you shunned years ago. You both changed, but what you feel for each other hasn’t—and maybe, this time, you’ll be brave enough to reach for it.

♡︎ pairing: Caleb x fem!reader

♡︎ tags: fluff, angst, smut, Caleb calls you pipsqueak (and always will in my fics), Caleb is a virgin, but reader isn't, oral (both of them giving and receiving), creampie as always

♡︎ word count: 10.3k

♡︎ a/n: this is my first time writing Caleb, so pls be nice to me ok??

♡︎ this is not beta read but i'm still giving a shout-out to my bestie ♡︎@its-de♡︎

divider by @/anitalenia

Caleb’s voice echoes from the bathroom, breaking you out of your thoughts. “How many body lotions does one person need?”

You roll your eyes but don’t respond immediately. Instead, you smooth the fabric of his shirt between your fingers before placing it on a hanger in your closet. Then you go to the bathroom.

You lean on the doorway, crossing your arms, “You’re not being a very pleasant house guest with comments like that.”

He’s standing in the shower, placing his travel size toiletries in one corner, his back turned to you. “And you’re not bein’ a very nice host for making your guest sleep on the sofa.”

You roll your eyes again.

This was your idea. That’s what you remind yourself as you watch Caleb settle into your space like he’s always belonged there. You were the one who matched your vacation days with his, and invited him to stay here instead of a hotel.

It made sense. You hadn’t seen much of each other since he came back, just a few meetups here and there, a handful of nights at his place. But now, for the first time in what felt like years, neither of you had somewhere else to be.

The sight of him here, snooping around your bathroom after setting down the toiletries you know he’ll use up in a day before inevitably stealing half of yours, warms your heart. When you’re like this - so close to him, grabbing his wrist to drag him out of the bathroom because ‘why are you inspecting every corner, you’re so weird!’ - and when he lets out that impish chuckle as he says ‘but I need to get acquainted with my vacation place.’ - it feels like nothing has changed.

Like there are no threats in the shadows. Like both of you haven’t lost a little light in your eyes.

But you have.

And now, watching him here, so effortlessly at home in your space, you’re not sure if it’s comforting or bittersweet.

⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

Time quickly passed while helping him unpack and putting away his stuff, and now it’s already dinnertime and you’ve worked up an appetite. You glance, from where you’re sitting on the sofa, at Caleb who’s rolling up his sleeves before opening your fridge. Before he can ask you anything, you stand up and start walking towards the coat rack.

“Since I am such a gracious host,” you begin, earning Caleb’s attention and he turns to you, “I’ve decided to spare you of your cooking duties on your first day – “

“It’s dinnertime.” Caleb intercepts, with a mock offence in his voice.

You ignore him. “We’re going to one of my favorite places to eat.”

He closes the fridge and turns to you, crossing his arms. “That is too vague. Do I need to change and wear something fancy? Is it your treat?”

“Do you want to come or not?”

“Sure!”

You toss him his jacket and when you reach for your purse you remember something. “Oh, wait – I got you something.”

You dig into your purse and pull out a brand-new lip balm, holding it up with a triumphant look. Caleb eyes it, then sighs.

“You’re so thoughtful. Thanks.” His flat tone as he accepts it makes you grin.

“It’s extra moisturizing so I don’t have to keep looking at your dry lips.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Oh? Why do you want to keep staring at my lips?”

Heat spreads across your face instantly. You immediately look away, mumbling, “I’m not staring.”

He hums, unscrewing the cap as he tilts his head. “What was that, pipsqueak?”

You exhale sharply, ignoring him. But the moment he swipes the balm across his lips, with orange glow of sunset spilling over his face, you can’t help but steal a glance. And you just know he catches it. But, for once, he doesn’t tease. He just smirks knowingly.

You grab your jacket a little too quickly. “Let’s go.”

He doesn’t say anything, just follows, still smirking as he tucks the lip balm into his pocket.

⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

By the time the two of you return to your apartment, you feel sleep already overtaking you. The dinner turned into wandering around some shops, then you had smoothies, then Caleb insisted walking around more to burn off calories. Usually, an evening like that wouldn’t be so tiring if you didn’t spend the whole day cleaning and tidying up, and then picking him up at the train station. And there were these waves of butterflies in your stomach, that would appear whenever you thought of him. It was draining, and frustrating.

But not confusing.

You thought those feelings had disappeared. You really did. But as the years passed and you started a new life here—new city, new people, new experiences—you told yourself you’d moved on. You had to.

A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you fluff up his pillow after slipping it inside a fresh and clean pillowcase. You already took a shower, stole one of his baggy shirts and paired them with pajama shorts and fuzzy socks. While he’s in the bathroom, you decided to set up the bedding on the sofa, since you’re sure he must be tired as well, even if he’s not showing it. As always.

Though your body feels like velvet, heavy with exhaustion, you still accept Caleb’s suggestion to watch a movie before bed.

"We don’t have to watch it tonight." Caleb lingers in the doorway, eyes flicking over your sleep-heavy expression.

"I’m fine!" You try to sound convincing, but you’re already tugging the duvet over yourself. "I just need to lie down."

Caleb huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he watches you nestle deeper into the cushions, head resting on the pillow meant for him.

"It’s so nice and cozy in here," you murmur, voice already thick with drowsiness. The crisp, freshly washed bedding cocoons you, pulling you under.

He chuckles, stepping closer and tapping your legs, silently telling you to move. "You’re just trying to convince me that this is comfortable for me."

Before you can protest, he takes your legs and settles them over his lap.

Your body stiffens at the contact. This is normal. It should be normal. It’s not the first time he’s had your legs in his lap. You inhale deeply, telling yourself to relax, to stop overthinking. You’re just getting used to his presence again.

Though, suddenly, you don’t feel so sleepy anymore.

The movie plays on the TV, filling the space with voices and background noise. Comfortable silence settles between you both, broken only by occasional remarks—mostly Caleb critiquing the acting. Of course he can’t keep quiet even during a movie. You fight the urge to roll your eyes, but the annoyance fades the moment his hands slide under the covers, grazing over your shins.

He glances at you, voice low. "You seem a little tense. Was the walk too exhausting?"

Your breath catches for a second before you close your eyes, exhaling slowly. His fingers press against the tight muscles in your calves, kneading gently.

"Maybe a little." you murmur, your voice softer than intended.

He murmurs a small apology, letting his hands make it up to you. He presses and kneads with just the right amount of pressure, his thumbs digging into spots that unravel you far too easily.

Heat blooms deep inside you, catching you off guard.

He works his way down, his palms smoothing over your ankles, rolling slow circles there before moving to your feet. The added texture of your socks only makes it worse—the friction, the warmth of his skin through the fabric, the way his thumbs press into the soles of your feet, it makes it so much harder to focus on the movie.

You bite your lip, pulse thrumming. A small sound threatens to escape your throat, and you swallow it back before lifting your legs off his lap. You murmur a small “thank you” and curl up on your side, your gaze now glued to the screen.

Caleb teases you, saying you look like you’re about to pass out. And even though you mumble a half-hearted protest, swearing you’re still awake, your eyes flutter closed before the movie is over.

His presence might be the source of your simmering frustration, of all the feelings you’re trying to ignore—but it’s also the most comforting one you’ve ever known.

⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

When your eyes open, it’s already morning. Sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a soft glow over your room. You’re warm, nestled beneath the comforter, a plushie tucked securely in your arms. A sleepy smile tugs at your lips as you nuzzle against it. You don’t remember how you got to bed, but you don’t need to think too hard about it. Caleb must have carried you here last night, just like he always used to, slipping back into old habits as if no time had passed at all.

The scent of something familiar drifts in from the kitchen, rich and savory. He’s up, moving around the kitchen, already making breakfast.

You stretch lazily before dragging yourself out of bed, moving through your morning routine. After freshening up and changing into more presentable loungewear, you step into the living room.

"Look who’s awake!" Caleb’s voice greets you the moment you enter. His back is turned as he works at the counter, only glancing over his shoulder briefly before returning to whatever he’s preparing.

You groan, voice still laced with sleep. “I don’t want to hear the usual ‘by the time you got up I already jogged’ and blah blah blah!” Caleb laughs at your mocking tone, shaking his head as he grabs a pair of plates from the cabinet. He starts setting the table, saying something in response, but his words blur in the background when your eyes catch on something unexpected.

A pillowcase. His pillowcase.

It’s hanging on the drying rack by the window, the fabric swaying slightly from the morning breeze. Your brows knit together.

"When did—why did you wash this?" You gesture toward it, confusion clear in your voice. "It was completely clean."

Caleb barely falters. "It was, but I drooled on it last night," he says easily, still arranging the table. "Didn’t want to make too much noise, so I hand-washed it."

You huff a small laugh, tempted to tease him for drooling, but for some reason, you don’t. Maybe he was exhausted. Or maybe your scent bothered him. Your stomach tugs uncomfortably at the thought, but you brush it off before it can settle. Don’t be ridiculous.

Instead, you take a seat across from him, scanning the breakfast spread. He made everything you like in the morning—even bought coffee from one of your favorite coffee shops. The warmth in your chest is immediate, dangerously soft, dangerously familiar.

“You should quit the colonel position,” you look up from the bowls and plates, meeting his gaze properly since you walked in – he’s already watching you, a hint of amusement in his eyes, “A – and be my personal chef.”

Damn it.

Heat creeps up your neck at the stumble in your voice.

He shakes his head with a small chuckle, setting a glass of water in front of you. "I wouldn’t mind that."

⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

The room is bathed in the dim, flickering light of the television, casting soft shadows across the coffee table cluttered with half-eaten snacks. The scent of buttered popcorn lingers in the air, warm and familiar, mixing with the faint traces of Caleb’s cologne. He sits comfortably beside you, one arm draped along the back of the sofa, his posture relaxed, his focus on the screen in front of him.

You should be watching too. After all, you’re the one who recommended it, but Caleb wanted to wait, saying he’d rather watch it for the first time with you instead of on his own. And now, here you are, barely paying attention at all.

Your eyes are glued to the phone screen, and every so often, a quiet giggle escapes you, fingers tapping swiftly against the glass as you reply to messages. You don’t notice the way Caleb’s gaze flickers to you from the corner of his eye. You don’t register the barely-there tightening of his jaw as you keep getting distracted, your smile aimed at a screen instead of him.

At first, he says nothing. He lets the minutes pass, lets you have your moment, but with every small laugh, every glance downward, his patience begins to fray at the edges.

Who the hell is so funny?

He shifts beside you, stretching slightly, making himself known, a silent reminder that he’s still here. But you don’t even glance up.

Fine.

The movement is swift—before you can react, Caleb reaches over and snatches your phone out of your hands.

“Caleb!” You protest in disbelief.

He leans back against the sofa, holding your phone just out of reach, with a self-satisfied smirk on his lips.

"I thought we were watchin’ this together?"

You blink at him, momentarily stunned by the sheer audacity, before a scoff escapes you. "Did you seriously just take my phone?"

He shrugs, turning it over in his hands, inspecting it, like he has every right to.

Your eyes narrow. "That is a violation of privacy."

His smirk widens slightly, thumb hovering just over the screen. "So what were you laughin’ at?"

You sigh in defeat. Time to change the tactic.

You lunge for your phone without hesitation, but he’s faster—his arm lifts easily, keeping it just out of reach, and he leans away, making you chase after it.

"Caleb—!"

The next few seconds is a blur of limbs, the glowing screen of your phone, and breathless laughter.

You scramble onto your knees, grappling at his wrist, stretching upward, trying to reach the device, but he moves effortlessly, dodging you like this is nothing. You nearly lose your balance in the process, your hands bracing against his chest—

Fuck, those muscles are strong.

Caleb chuckles at your failed attempt, his grip on your phone still firm, completely unbothered by your struggling.

You’re not giving up that easily.

With renewed determination, you grab at his wrist again, pushing against him with your full weight, throwing him slightly off balance. Your bodies end up in a tangled mess of limbs as both of you topple on your side onto the cushions. His body is so close, his warmth suddenly everywhere. Your breath catches, but you don’t have time to dwell on it, because you notice a slight flinch when your fingers brush against his ribs.

You blink up at him as realization dawns, slow and sweet and far too tempting.

Caleb’s expression shifts instantly. "Don’t."

A slow, dangerous smile spreads across your lips.

You dig your fingers into his side, and he twists in protest, his muscles flexing as he tries to escape you. His laugher is light and carefree - and it is the most unfairly attractive sound you’ve always loved.

You falter for a second too long.

Caleb doesn’t waste the opportunity. Before you can react, he grips your wrist, and with ridiculous ease, he flips you onto your back. By the time you catch your breath, he’s already caging you in, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand.

Everything stills for a moment. His breathing is heavier now. Yours is too. The TV hums softly in the background, but neither of you are listening. Your phone has slipped onto the carpet, forgotten. His grip isn’t tight, isn’t restricting, but it keeps you in place. Caleb’s gaze lingers on you, no trace of teasing left in his expression. And something about that - the way he’s looking at you, about the weight of his body pressing against yours, how his chest rises and falls above you—sends a slow, unbearable warmth curling through you.

But then, just as easily as he pinned you down, he lets go. You sit up quickly, forcing a small laugh, brushing off the moment like it was nothing. Caleb leans back against the sofa, running a hand through his hair before reaching down and lazily tossing your phone back to you.

“Alright, alright. I’ll stop stealin’ your stuff. For now.”

You roll your eyes, unlocking the screen, but you hesitate for a second before speaking. “I know it was rude to text during the movie,” you admit, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. “I was just talking to my friends about tomorrow.”

Caleb doesn’t react at first. He’s stretching out his legs, seemingly unfazed, “Yeah?” his voice is too neutral. “What’s happening tomorrow?”

“I already made plans to go out with them.”

There’s a flicker of something in his expression, something quickly buried, masked with indifference. He exhales through his nose, nodding, like he’s completely unbothered.

“Cool.”

"I won’t be out late," you say quickly, feeling a pang of guilt. “Just a couple of drinks, maybe some dancing. I’ll be back before you know it.”

He makes a noncommittal sound, eyes flicking back to the screen, but his jaw is tighter now.

You hesitate, studying him for a moment, before offering a small smile. "If it makes you feel better, you can come pick me up.”

That makes him glance at you, his eyes softer now. “Yeah. Alright.” Then he takes the TV remote to pause the movie, and now his full focus is on you. “So, what are you gonna to wear?”

The question makes you flustered, warmth spreading across your cheeks. “I don’t know.” You admit quietly. It is the truth, which is why you’ve been texting your friends during the movie. But he hasn’t seen you in anything revealing before—not really. Not outside of tiny glimpses in summers past, when you’d lounge around in shorts and tank tops, never once thinking about how his eyes followed you.

And it shouldn’t be a big deal. It wouldn’t matter if you weren’t so unbearably attracted to him.

You spent too much time getting ready this morning. From the cozy loungewear you’d picked out before breakfast, to the outfit you chose for your day out with him, to the subtle refresh of your makeup before settling down for the movie—it had all been intentional. Every choice, every small detail, designed to make you look effortlessly good.

“Why don’t you show me the outfits you had in mind?” He asks, leaning back against the sofa, “Maybe I can help you.”

You force yourself to exhale, keep your tone light. "Fine. But don’t be annoying about it."

Caleb smirks, tilting his head slightly. “No promises.”

⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

You disappear into your room, trying to shake off the ridiculous way your body reacted to that simple suggestion. You shouldn’t care. It’s Caleb. He’s seen you barefaced and half-asleep, wrapped in blankets, wearing mismatched pajamas. He’s been around you long enough to know every version of you.

You exhale slowly, smoothing your hands over the fabric of your dress. It’s soft beneath your fingertips, sleek and form-fitting, hugging the shape of you in a way that suddenly feels too revealing. You refuse to dwell on it.

You smooth your hands over the fabric before stepping out, ignoring the way your pulse picks up the moment you re-enter the living room.

And the moment you do, Caleb stills.

He doesn’t shift, doesn’t smirk, doesn’t offer some offhanded remark the way you expect him to. He just watches, his gaze moving over you. Then, his brows pull together slightly, his head tilting as if he’s weighing something in his mind.

"Hm. I don’t know."

You gasp, almost appalled at the comment. “What do you mean you don’t know?” You’re trying your best to sound normal, and not like your cheeks are burning under his gaze. He looks effortlessly handsome, sprawled across the sofa with his arms draped over the backrest, legs spread in a way that makes him seem both completely at ease and utterly in control of the space around him.

His eyes lift to yours. "Turn around for me."

The request is effortless, spoken with the same ease as everything else he says. But something about it—the quiet authority in his voice, the way his gaze stays locked onto yours, unblinking—makes your skin prickle.

You try to shake off the thought, rolling your eyes dramatically. “Turn around? What, am I on a runway?”

A smirk tugs at his lips. “Exactly. Indulge me.”

⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

You try on another dress, stepping out with a little more confidence this time, expecting at least some approval. But Caleb only exhales, tilting his head slightly, his mouth pressing into a thin line.

"Not my favorite."

You huff, retreating into your room once again, determined to find something he can’t find an issue with. But it becomes a pattern. No matter what you put on, Caleb always has something to say.

"That one’s not very practical."

"You’ll be freezing in that."

"It’s fine, I guess."

But you’re not stupid. The pattern is glaringly obvious—the more revealing the dress, the less he seems to like it.

After one final unimpressed hum from him, you let out an exasperated breath. There’s a pile of clothes on your bed and your muscles are aching from the endless zip-twirl-sigh routine. “Okay,” you snap, sharper than intended, “you’re officially no help.”

Caleb smirks, stretching his arms overhead until his shirt rides up, revealing a sliver of toned stomach. “Just bein’ honest.”

You roll your eyes, reaching for your phone on the coffee table. "Whatever. I’ll just ask my friends."

You barely hear whatever excuse he’s offering now, his voice a low murmur in the background as you tap out a message. Then, an idea pops up in your head. You glance up from your screen, cutting him off mid-sentence. “You should go out as well.”

Caleb stops, his gaze flicking to yours, just for a second. Then, he shakes his head, exhaling lightly. “Clubs aren’t really my scene.”

You nod, finishing your message and sending it off before locking your phone. You lean your shoulder against the wall, the cool surface pressing against your heated skin.

"Well, who knows—" your tone is casual, "you might meet a cute girl."

His laugh is hollow. “Doubt that’s happening.”

“Oh?” You tilt your head slightly, feigning innocence. “You have someone back home?”

The room stills.

You notice Caleb’s jaw shifting just slightly before his frown deepens. It’s not irritation—not exactly.

"I don’t." His voice is steady. Then, his gaze sharpens, latching onto yours, his expression more serious than before. "I would’ve told you, like I promised."

A breath catches in your throat.

"Like we promised."

Caleb’s words linger. I would’ve told you. Like we promised. You stare at him, throat tightening as his gaze sharpens—he’s studying you, dissecting the guilt spreading across your face.

“You never told me,” he says, voice deceptively casual, “if you ever liked someone.”

Your phone buzzes in your hand, but you barely register it. You don’t want to answer this question. You swallow, but your throat feels dry. "We weren’t talking as much." The words come out quieter than you intend, "It didn’t seem relevant."

“Relevant.” He repeats.

You inhale sharply, forcing yourself to meet his gaze even as something in your chest tightens. "You can’t deny we grew apart, Caleb." The words claw their way up, bitter and ugly, “And you're the one to talk - as someone who decided to go no-contact for months.” and the second they leave your mouth, you regret them.

You watch his face shift from stunned to something that looks an awful lot like hurt.

Before he can speak, you sink onto the sofa beside him, your scarred knee bumping his. “I’m sorry.” you curl your fingers into the fabric of your dress to keep from reaching for him. “I didn’t mean that.”

His eyes soften and a sigh leaves his lips. Then, the faint pressure of his palm settles on your head, the familiar gesture offering comfort. “You don’t have to apologize,” he says, voice low.

You lean into his touch, eyes burning. “But I am sorry.”

“I know.” His hand stills, heavy and warm. “So am I.”

The admission is so quiet you almost miss it. You glance up, but he’s already looking away, jaw clenched against whatever else wants to spill out. So am I for leaving. So am I for coming back broken. So am I for loving you like a man who was never meant to fly—reaching for the only light that ever felt like home, even knowing that if I get too close, you’ll be the one who burns.

You don’t press. Instead, you let your shoulder bump his. He exhales, tension seeping out of him as his hand slips down to cradle the nape of your neck. "Come on, pips." His voice is quieter now, lighter. "We should get some sleep."

The argument dissolves, but the ache remains—a bruise you’ll both keep pressing, to remind yourselves it’s real.

⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

Even though it was late, you had insisted on finishing the rest of the movie, clinging to the familiar comfort. You slipped back into the playful banter – you had whined about the pile of clothes still sitting on your bed, blaming him for it. Caleb, ever unbothered, had only smirked and offered to neatly put them away tomorrow.

While he was in the shower, you took the time to make up the sofa, tucking the sheets with more care than necessary. When he stepped out of the bathroom, hair damp, skin warm from the heat of the water, you didn’t comment on the familiar citrus scent clinging to him—the scent of your body lotion.

You’d exchanged a quiet goodnight before retreating to your bedroom, closing the door behind you.

Grabbing the pile of discarded clothes, you stacked them onto the armchair in the corner, ignoring the mess for now. You had planned on wearing your usual pajama tank top, but Caleb had insisted you wear one of his shirts again, claiming it was more comfortable.

You’re here now - lying beneath the comforter, pajama shorts brushing against soft sheets, the soft fabric of his shirt enveloping you, and yet still— you’re completely awake. Your eyes remain wide open, staring into the darkness, as if sleep might find you if you just keep pretending you’re not thinking about him.

You shift beneath the comforter, rolling onto your side, then onto your back, only to flip your pillow to the cooler side and press your cheek against it. The softness offers no relief.

A deep sigh slips past your lips, but the weight in your chest remains.

I should have told him.

You should’ve told him about the men you’ve dated. You should’ve kept your promise. That’s what he did. But you tell yourself, keep comforting yourself, that at some point your lives drifted apart. When time and distance made him feel more like a memory, you thought it didn’t matter anymore.

Except it did. It mattered to Caleb.

He’d said it plainly —I would’ve told you—as if keeping that promise was as simple as breathing. No loopholes. No expiration dates.

Your breath hitches slightly, something twisting in your chest. You roll onto your side again, eyes drifting toward the empty space beside you.

The dull ache in your lower back pulls at your attention, a stiffness lingering in your shoulder. You shift slightly, frowning at the discomfort— a souvenir from last night when you’d fallen asleep on the sofa. He had carried you to bed, made sure you were comfortable. And now, he’s the one out there, sleeping on the same sofa, crammed into a space too small for him.

The guilt creeps back in.

Finally, with a sigh of surrender, you throw off the covers and rise from your bed. You move carefully through the dark, the wooden floor cool beneath your bare feet as you make your way toward the living room.

⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

The apartment is silent, save for the faint hum of the city beyond the windows, and as you reach the doorway, you pause, peering inside. Your eyes take a moment to adjust, but you can already make out the shape of him—Caleb, stretched out on the sofa, one arm draped over his stomach, his breathing steady. For a second, you think he’s asleep -

"Can’t sleep?" His voice is quiet, but in the stillness of the apartment, it still makes you flinch.

You step closer, your gaze meeting his, even in the dark. “You should sleep in my bed tonight.”

There’s silence for a moment. You can’t make out his expression, but you can feel the hesitation in the way he exhales slowly.

Then you hear a soft chuckle. “I’m perfectly fine here.”

You narrow your eyes, irritation mixing with your exhaustion. Of course, he’s being stubborn. Any other night, you might have tried to coax him with teasing, maybe thrown in a snarky remark or the fact that he’d be doing the same thing for you if the roles were reversed.

But it’s late, and you don’t have the patience for an argument you know you’re going to win anyway.

So instead, you move without warning.

With one swift motion, you snatch the duvet right off his body, yanking the pillow from beneath his head before he can even react. A startled breath escapes him, but you don’t wait for a protest.

You’re already retreating toward your bedroom, grumbling under your breath, "I’m trying to be nice here."

Behind you, Caleb exhales a quiet laugh, shaking his head. He doesn’t argue this time, just watches for a moment before finally pushing himself up from the sofa and following.

By the time he steps inside, you’re already back beneath your comforter, curled on your side. The mattress shifts slightly as he settles in beside you, his presence familiar yet suddenly overwhelming.

“Goodnight,” you say, too stiffly.

“Night.” His reply is softer.

You close your eyes, and the fact that he is sleeping in a comfortable bed eases your mind long enough to let you drift off to sleep.

⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

When your eyes blink open, the darkness feels denser, heavier. The digital glow of your nightstand clock blinks 3:07 AM. You're not sure if you ever truly slept or if your mind simply hovered somewhere between dream and wakefulness.

The room is silent, save for the distant murmur of the city and the steady rhythm of Caleb’s breathing behind you—deep, even, grounding. You listen for a moment, letting the sound soothe you, lulling your nerves the same way it always used to. From the sound of it, he managed to fall asleep.

Slowly, carefully, you shift onto your other side, moving as if the smallest rustle might wake him. Your body rolls toward him, your eyes adjusting to the dark until his silhouette takes shape in front of you. He’s asleep, facing you. The moonlight spills in through the slit in the curtains, illuminating his face with delicate silver light. His brows are relaxed, mouth slightly parted, and one cheek is gently squished against the pillow.

Seeing him like this makes you smile, faint and bitter-sweet. He looks like a memory. Like all those nights you used to crawl into his bed after a nightmare, when he’d shift just enough to let you under the covers, barely awake but always aware of you, always there.

But the warmth of that memory fades almost as quickly as it came. Guilt rises like bile, acrid and insistent.

I don’t blame you.

You should have said that. You wish you had. When you apologized earlier, when you sat beside him trying to make up for your comment, you should’ve said that too. Because it’s true. You don’t.

You understand why he disappeared. You understand why he didn’t call, why he let you think he was gone—you know that he did it to protect you.

But the girl who slept with his necklace clutched in her fist for months, who scrubbed explosion residue from her hair until her scalp bled—she blames him. A splinter of her still does, lodged too deep to dig out.

Your eyes sting, but you blink quickly, swallowing down the lump in your throat.

You focus on the rhythm of his breathing, his lashes that cast delicate shadows on his cheeks, the slight sheen on his lips. He is right here.

So close you could reach out and touch him. So close you can feel the warmth coming off his body.

And yet, so impossibly far.

But wasn’t he always?

Hadn’t he always felt just beyond reach, even when you shared the same space, the same roof, the same memories?

You had spent so many years convincing yourself he didn’t see you that way—that his devotion was born out of duty, not desire. That he was bound to you by shared history, not longing. You told yourself that he saw you as something fragile, something to protect—not something to love.

But there were glances. Touches that lingered longer than they should have. But he never crossed the line. Never let himself want aloud.

So you told yourself he didn’t want to. That he couldn’t. That you weren’t something he was allowed to reach for.

And that’s why you found distractions. That’s why you chased comfort in other people. Because if you couldn’t have him, you had to have something.

But now, lying here beside him, in the quiet of your own bed, there are no distractions. No excuses. No distance left to hide behind. And suddenly, you wonder—

What if he wanted more?

What if he was always waiting for me?

You could wake him now. Could trace your fingertips over his eyelids, could say the words that have lived in the marrow of your bones since before you knew their name. I loved you then. I love you now.

But your lips won’t move. Your hand won’t reach out. Instead, all that comes is the memory of the aching regret that followed you around when you grieved him, whispering your sins in the dark - You should have told him. You should have been brave.

But now—he’s alive. He’s here. He’s right beside you.

But nothing is the same.

And even if you let yourself reach for him, even if you handed over every buried feeling and begged him to take it—the world around you hasn’t changed.

The people who tried to destroy you once are still out there, still watching, still hunting. There are still shadows at your back, and Caleb has always been the one who walks toward them first.

And if you lost him again—really lost him—

You don’t know if you’d survive it.

Because if regret was unbearable before, the devastation of another goodbye—this time after knowing what it’s like to have him— would split you open, would leave you hollow as the day you buried an empty casket.

You don’t realize the tears have started to fall until your vision blurs, until a soft sniffle betrays you. Caleb stirs - he takes a slow inhale, then a deeper one. You still, but it’s too late. His eyes open—drowsy with sleep—but the moment they land on you, on the shimmer on your lashes, they sharpen with clarity.

"What’s wrong?" He whispers softly, concern clear in his voice.

You swipe hastily at your cheeks, the salt sting lingering on your skin. “Nothing,” you lie, offering a trembling smile. “Just a nightmare.”

He doesn’t question it. Doesn’t search your face for more or press for the truth he knows you’re not giving. He just reaches out. His hand finds yours first, then the warmth of his palm presses against your side, gentle as it invites you closer.

You hesitate, just for a moment. But then your body moves on instinct, pulled to him like it always is, like it always has been. He shifts onto his back, making room for you, letting you tuck yourself against his chest, his arms wrapping around you.

You let yourself melt into him. Let yourself take comfort in the solid warmth of his body, in the slow, steady rise and fall of his breathing against your cheek. Your tears dry slowly, absorbed by the fabric of his shirt. Your fingers trace the chain around his neck, finding the pendants, the metal warm from his skin.

And you listen to the heartbeat beneath your ear.

Strong. Steady. Real.

He’s alive.

He’s here.

He’s yours, if you want him.

The fear is still there. The shadows haven’t disappeared. The world is still dangerous, still cruel, still capable of breaking him again.

But here, in the cradle of his arms, with his heartbeat syncing to yours, you finally understand: bravery isn’t the absence of fear.

So, maybe…

If that’s what sits at the end of this—if tears and heartache is what awaits you—then let it be. Let the hurt come. Let it hollow you. At least the emptiness will echo how fiercely you loved him.

You lift your head from the steady rhythm of his chest, propping yourself on your elbow, your face hovering just above his. Your eyes find his in the moonlight—half-lidded, warm, still laced with sleep, but softened by the sight of you. A small, barely-there smile touches his lips, a quiet relief. His thumb brushes your cheekbone, calloused and warm, and you lean into his touch, your lashes fluttering shut. Then you feel the press of his lips against your forehead, featherlight and lingering.

When your eyes open again, he’s still watching you. Your faces are close now, close enough that your breaths mingle, close enough that the brush of your nose against his sends a soft shiver down your spine. You glance down at his lips, drawn to the place you’ve denied yourself for too long.

His fingers still on your cheek.

And when your gaze returns to his, you see it - the look you’ve spent years misreading. The one you chalked up to pity or duty, something you’ve caught glimpses of over the years and turned away from. Something you didn’t recognize at first. Then later, refused to acknowledge out of fear.

But now, there’s no more running.

You shift closer slowly, cautiously, as if giving him time to stop you if this isn’t what he wants. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. His eyes dart to your lips, just once, but it’s enough.

In that stillness, you close the distance.

The kiss is soft. His lips are warmer than you imagined, but still a little chapped. He goes utterly still, as if fearing the slightest movement might dissolve this moment. But when you press closer, his hand slides to the back of your head, his other arm wrapping around your waist to pull you flush against him.

And when you finally pull back, his forehead rests against yours, his eyes still closed.

“Tell me I’m not dreaming.” he murmurs.

You smile softly, and press a delicate kiss to his eyelid.

“You’re not dreaming, Caleb.” you whisper.

His lashes flutter open. His gaze searches your face like he’s still trying to understand how this happened. His hand rises to your cheek, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth with aching gentleness. And then he moves. This time, he closes the distance. His mouth moves over yours, his breaths shaky against your skin. There’s no practiced skill, no calculated seduction—just raw, aching want, tempered by the fear of wanting too much.

Your hands slide from his chest to the nape of his neck, fingers threading into the silken, messy hair. He groans, low in his throat, the sound vibrating through you as his tongue brushes hesitantly against yours. It’s clumsy, earnest, his nose bumping yours, his teeth catching your lip by accident.

“Sorry,” he mumbles against your lips, but you laugh—a soft, breathless sound—and pull him closer.

“Don’t be.”

You lean into it, guiding him with soft sighs and quiet hums.

His hands hold you tighter now—one on your back, the other slipping down, splayed at your waist like he doesn’t know how to stop touching you now that he’s started.

And when your lips break apart for breath, you don’t pull away. You rest your forehead against his, and you whisper, barely audible, "I don’t want to stop."

He exhales, "Me neither."

Your fingers tremble slightly as they wander from his hair, along the line of his jaw, your thumb brushing the corner of his mouth before trailing lower. Over the column of his throat, skimming the pulse beneath his skin, before drifting lower—over the planes of his chest, the ridges of his abdomen. You feel the way he shivers beneath your hand, how his muscles tense slightly.

His breath hitches when you tug at the hem of his shirt, fingers curling there, his gaze locking onto yours.

He doesn’t need you to say it.

Without a word, he sits up, the sheets pooling at his waist as he yanks the shirt over his head. The fabric falls to the floor, and for a moment, you just stare—you’ve seen him shirtless before, but never like this. Never yours.

You gently press against his shoulder, coaxing him to lie back down, and he does so, collapsing against the pillows. You swing one leg over, your thighs bracketing his hips, but you hover just above him—close enough to feel his heat, yet far enough to let him breathe. You lean down to reclaim his mouth, your hands framing his face. The kiss deepens, and you tilt your head to better taste him, to feel more of him. He gasps into your mouth, one hand slipping to your lower back, the other lowering—slow, unsure—to brush against your bare thigh, the contact making you shiver.

And still, his hand doesn’t wander, doesn’t explore. It lingers like he’s afraid of being told to stop.

You pull back just enough to see his face, your breaths mingling between kisses. Your hand covers his where it rests against your leg, and you guide it higher, to your hip, where your skin is warmer.

You hold his gaze. “You can touch me, Caleb.” Your voice is soft, “Wherever you want.”

His eyes widen slightly, color blooming high on his cheeks. His fingers flex against your skin, then he speaks, “I don’t… I’ve never—” He swallows hard, and you see the flicker of frustration in his eyes, not at you, but at himself, at his own nerves.

“I know,” you whisper, your hand slipping up to cradle his jaw, your lips brushing just beneath his ear. “It’s okay.”

Then, slowly, you lower yourself until your hips meet his, the hard ridge of his arousal pressing against you. His head falls back with a groan, eyes squeezing shut. Heat blooms through your belly at the contact, and your hips rock forward just enough to make him shudder.

His hands clamp down on your hips, holding you still. “Wait—wait.”

You freeze, pulse thrumming in your ears. “Do you want to stop?”

“No,” he says, eyes snapping open. “Just… let me—” He swallows, his voice dropping to a plea. “Let me do this right.”

You smile, and brush his hair away from his eyes. “There’s no right, Caleb. Just us.”

He exhales, nodding, and then his hips roll upward tentatively, the friction drawing a gasp from both of you. His thumbs press into the soft curve of your hips as they continue to move against him in a slow, rolling rhythm. The thin barrier of fabric between you—his sweatpants, your pajama shorts—only amplifies the heat, the friction of every roll of your hips against his. His breath hitches, his eyes fluttering closed, as you grind down again, your own shorts riding up, the seam catching just right. He curses under his breath, hips jerking up to meet yours, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs.

You want to feel all of him, nothing between. And the way his hands start to roam, still cautious, still learning, tells you he’s thinking the same thing.

You shift slowly, rising from his lap with a final roll of your hips that leaves him gasping, lips parted, brows knit. His hands fall away reluctantly, his eyes flickering with confusion and curiosity. Your hands trail down his chest, over the taut planes of his stomach. His muscles jump beneath your touch, his breath hitching when your fingers graze the waistband of his sweatpants.

“Wait.” His hand covers yours, trembling. “You don’t have to—”

You lift his palm to your lips, “I want to.” Your gaze holds his. “Let me show you how much.”

He swallows hard, but nods.

You hook your fingers into the fabric, tugging gently. He lifts his hips, letting you peel the layers away, his eyes never leaving your face. When you finally see him, all of him – hard, heavy, straining for you, you feel a fresh heat rise in your chest, in your belly, deeper.

When your eyes meet his again, you find him watching you just as intently—like he’s searching your face for any flicker of doubt. But there’s none. At first, his body tenses—thighs taut beneath your touch, hands clenching the sheets under him. He tries to hold still, tries to be polite, tries to hide the way his hips twitch when your lips press to the sensitive skin just below his navel.

“Breathe.” you whisper against his skin, and you feel it when he does - shoulders softening, jaw loosening, a low groan slipping past his lips as you finally take him into your mouth. You take your time, learning what makes his body melt under your touch. You relish the way his hips stutter when you swirl your tongue, the broken whimper he tries to smother with his fist, the devotion in his voice when he rasps your name.

Gradually, his iron grip on the sheets loosens, one hand resting on the back of your head, and his hips finally start to move to the rhythm you set.

His breath starts to come faster. You feel the change in his body—the way his thighs tense, how his fingers flex and twist in the sheets. “Wait—” His voice is rough. “If you keep going, I’m gonna—”

You don’t stop. You slow, just for a moment, lifting your eyes to his flushed face. You reach for him, one hand sliding up his stomach, calming. “It’s okay,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to the sharp cut of his hipbone. “Let me take care of you.”

He groans at that, head turning into the pillow. He doesn’t speak again, but his muscles start to twitch, his legs falling wider, hips stuttering as your mouth picks up the pace. His moans become deeper, more raw, and then your name spills from his lips again.

“I’m—fuck—I’m close—”

You hum in acknowledgment, not letting up, your hands gripping his hips as he shudders beneath you, and then—he falls apart. You taste him on your tongue, feel every desperate pulse of release as his thighs tremble beneath your hands, coming undone in your mouth—helpless and wholly yours.

You don’t pull away. You stay with him through it, coaxing him through the final tremors. You only ease off when he makes the faintest sound of overstimulation, brushing your lips one last time to the hollow of his hip before sitting up.

Caleb is panting, eyes closed, arm thrown over his face.

But when you crawl back up his body, he opens his arms instinctively, pulling you into his chest, where you hear his heart is thundering under your ear. And after a long pause, his hand cups your cheek and kisses you softly, tasting himself on your lips.

His breath is still uneven, and there’s a slight sheen of sweat glistening on his skin. But he sits up, and for a second his eyes search yours again—asking permission without words. You nod once, and his fingers curl around the hem of his shirt you’re wearing.

He pulls it up slowly, his eyes tracking the reveal of your stomach, the curve of your breast, watching the way your chest rises and falls a little faster under his gaze. His hands tremble, just slightly, and you can see it - that mixture of reverence and disbelief in his eyes. He bends to kiss you again, before his mouth trails down your jaw, your neck, the flutter of your pulse.

He guides you onto your back, and shifts to follow, half-hovering over you. His lips trail kisses along your neck, your breasts. You arch into him, a gasp escaping as his tongue flicks over your nipple, and he hums in response, the vibration rippling through you.

His hands move lower, fingers hooking under the waistband of your pajama shorts. He pauses, “Is this okay?”

You nod, your voice failing you, and lift your hips. He slides the shorts down, his knuckles grazing your thighs, his breath hitching when you’re finally bare. For a moment, he just stares. Fading moonlight spills across your body, catching the sheen of arousal between your thighs. A shaky exhale escapes him as he drags a single finger across the wetness, his touch featherlight.

But before he goes further, before his mouth finds its way to where you’re already pulsing for him, something else catches his eye. The faint scar across your knee. Fading now, but still there. His thumb brushes gently along the uneven line, before he leans forward and presses a kiss to it, the silent apology making your heart flutter.

Then his mouth drifts lower, lips brushing against the soft skin of your inner thighs. The first flick of his tongue on your folds is so startlingly gentle you flinch. A soft laugh escapes you, breathless and giddy, goosebumps blooming on your skin.

Caleb stills, lifting his head, brows creased in confusion.

“You’re tickling me,” you murmur, threading your fingers through his hair in reassurance.

He huffs a laugh against your skin. “Got it,” he murmurs. His mouth presses more firmly, his hands holding your hips as his tongue parts your folds and he groans at the first taste. Your back arches off the bed, a moan slipping out, and it spurs him on. One hand stays braced on your thigh, the other moves to gently trace one fingertip around your entrance, testing. You whisper yes, please, and that’s all it takes. He sinks a finger in, his eyes flicking up to watch the way your face shifts—lips parted, brows gently pulled, the rise and fall of your chest now uneven.

His mouth finds your clit, more confident now. The heat of his tongue, the wet pressure of his lips - it’s clumsy but it’s honest, driven by need and the desire to learn what makes you tremble. Then his finger finds that spot inside you, the one that makes you fist your hand in his hair, the one that makes your toes curl. You whisper yes, yes, yes, and you swear you feel him smile.

His free hand finds yours, interlacing your fingers against your belly.

“Look at me,” he rasps, and you force your eyes open, “Want to see you.”

Your body is starting to unravel beneath him, soft moans spilling from your lips, your thighs trembling.

“Another,” you pant, and he obeys instantly, adding a second finger. His rhythm stutters at first, but you guide him with whispered pleas, your hips rolling against his hand. His tongue flicks faster, his fingers pumping in a deep, steady curl, and you’re suddenly so close to the edge. His name spills from your lips like a prayer, and he growls against you, as if your climax is his own.

And when you fall apart with his name on your lips and your hands tangled with his, Caleb doesn’t stop. He holds you through it, lets you ride it out, his fingers easing only when your thighs start to shake, when your hips twitch with overstimulation. He pulls back, resting his forehead against your inner thigh, his breaths ragged. His erection strains against the sheets, but his focus still on you, always on you, even as his hand trembles where it grips yours.

You pull him up, his body collapsing over yours, and kiss him slow and deep, tasting yourself on his tongue. His hips grind reflexively against your thigh, a broken noise escaping him, but he doesn’t push. Just holds you, his head dipping into the crook of your neck, your hands cradling his damp hair.

Neither of you speaks for a long moment. Just breath and skin and the quietness of the morning twilight.

His fingertips trace along the curve of your side, not teasing, just feeling. Like he can’t quite believe you’re here.

Then he murmurs—soft, regretful, honest:

“I should’ve been your first.”

The words make your heart skip a beat. Still, the way he says it isn’t bitter. There’s no accusation in his voice. Only ache.

You draw back just enough to meet his eyes, your palm resting flat on his chest, right over his heartbeat. “Then be my last.” You whisper.

His breath hitches, eyes widening for a split second. He presses a kiss to your temple, before he meets your eyes again.

“Do you… have anything?” A pause, his gaze dropping to your lips. “Protection?”

You pause for a moment. Then you nod, brushing your fingers over his jaw.

“Left drawer,” you whisper.

He hesitates, his thumb circling your hipbone. “We don’t have to—”

“I know.” You press a kiss to his furrowed brow. “But I want this.”

He shifts to reach for it, but you catch his wrist. “Wait.”

His eyes snap to yours, brows furrowed.

You trace the skin with your thumb, suddenly too sheepish to meet his gaze. “We don’t need it.”

He stills at your tone. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." You finally meet his gaze, “If it’s you… I don’t want anything between us.”

He exhales, shakily, the tension in his shoulders softening as his arms wrap around you again.

When your legs shift, parting around his hips, you feel the hard length of him press against your entrance, and it pulls a soft gasp from you both.

Caleb stills. One hand rests by your head, the other cradling your jaw, thumb stroking softly across your cheekbone.

“You okay?” he murmurs.

You nod, threading your fingers into his hair, your lips brushing the corner of his mouth.

He exhales slowly, trembling slightly as he reaches between you, lining himself up. The head of him nudges your entrance, already wet and aching for him. You feel the pressure first, a stretch that makes your breath catch. He sinks in just a little—then stops immediately when you tense.

“Too much?” he breathes.

You shake your head, running a hand down his back. “No… keep going.”

Inch by inch, his body presses into yours, your warmth pulling him in, taking him deeper. His jaw clenches, a guttural sound caught in his throat as your walls flutter around him, as your hand curls over his bicep for something. His restraint is palpable, sweat beading at his temples as he presses deeper, his hips rolling in shallow strokes until he’s sheathed fully inside you.

For a moment, neither of you moves. His necklace rests warm against your collarbone, the metal shifting slightly as his chest heaves above yours.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he whispers, his lips grazing your temple.

You kiss the corner of his mouth. “I will.”

His thrusts start slow, each one sinking deeper than the last, his eyes locked on yours as if searching for permission with every roll of his hips.

“Fuck,” he grits out suddenly, halting his movements with a trembling inhale. His entire body shudders as he lowers his forehead to your shoulder, nose brushing your throat, lips finding your pulse.

“I need a second…” His voice is breathless. “I don’t want this to end yet.”

You cradle his jaw, lifting his face up so you can look at him. “You don’t have to be perfect,” you whisper, your thumb brushing his cheekbone. “Just be here. With me.”

His gaze falters, then finds yours again. He draws back just enough to move again, slow at first, like he’s trying to find a rhythm that won’t break him.

One of his hands tangles with yours, fingers lacing tightly together as he presses it into the pillow above your head. The other slips between your bodies until his thumb finds you, pressing a gentle, slow circle over your clit—and it draws a gasp from you, your thighs tensing around his hips.

“Like that?” His voice is hoarse.

“Yes,” you breathe, hips chasing the movement of his hand. “Just like that. Don’t stop.”

He groans low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your lips as he leans in to kiss you again—messy now, all teeth and parted mouths. He keeps moving inside you, each thrust dragging along your sweet spots, and the rhythm of his thumb against your clit grows more confident, bolder with every breathless moan you give him. He watches you with blown pupils, flicking between your face and the place where your bodies meet, as if committing every detail of your pleasure to memory.

His forehead drops to yours, the weight of his body pressing deliciously down as his thumb circles faster, more intently, chasing the way your thighs begin to tremble, the way your grip on his hand tightens.

Then his hips shift—just a little, but enough for a sharp discomfort to shoot through you. You suck in a breath through your teeth, a soft, involuntary “ah—” escaping your throat.

He stops immediately. Every muscle in his body locks, his expression flashing from concentration to concern in an instant. “Shit—did I hurt you?” he asks, breath still ragged.

You shake your head quickly, already reaching for his face, your palm cradling his cheek. “No, no,” you whisper. “Just... not like that.”

Your legs tighten around his waist, your heels pressing against the small of his back, gently urging him into a better angle. “Here,” you guide, your voice low and coaxing. “A little lower. Like that.”

He swallows hard, still frozen in place, but the panic softens as he watches you, sees that you still want this. He nods, his throat working with the effort to calm himself.

“You’re doing so good,” you murmur, brushing your thumb along his jaw. “I promise.”

He exhales on the word promise, and then he moves again. His brows draw together, not in worry now, but in focus, lips brushing your cheek as he resumes the rhythm that had your body unraveling.

Your nails dig into his shoulder as he grinds deeper, the angle just there, the friction so exquisite your vision blurs.

“Caleb—” you gasp, voice cracking as the pleasure rises sharp and fast inside you.

“I know, I know.” he rasps. His hips snap harder, deeper, the slap of skin echoing as you spiral closer. “That’s it,” he grits out, his thumb pressing harder. “Let go. Let go for me.”

When your thighs lock around his waist, when your walls clench around him in a sudden, overwhelming spasm, your release rips through you - deep, intense, every nerve alight. Your back arches off the bed, a cry spilling from your lips as you pulse around him, your fingers clawing into the sweat-slick skin of his back.

“Fuck—” His rhythm stutters, his thrusts turning erratic. With a shattered groan, he buries himself to the hilt, his hips jerking as he spills into you, his forehead pressed to yours, his breath a ragged pant against your lips.

For a heartbeat, you’re both still, just a tangle of sweat and shared breath, his necklace resting between your breasts, now warm from the heat of your skin. Then he collapses against you, his weight comforting and grounding, his lips brushing your collarbone. His arms curl tightly around you, one hand tracing slow, mindless patterns over your hip, and the other splayed beneath your shoulder. You exhale slowly, your fingers sliding through his damp hair.

You’re not sure how long you lie there like that, tangled and breathless, your hearts gradually slowing from their frantic rhythm. The first sliver of sunlight filters through your curtains, golden and gentle. You tilt your chin to study him, how sunlight looks like powdered gold over his lashes.

“You’re staring,” he murmurs, eyes still closed.

“You’re beautiful,” you say, because it’s true, and because you know it’ll fluster him.

His nose scrunches, a half-smile tugging at his mouth. “Men aren’t beautiful.”

“You are.” You brush the hair from his temple. “Like a pouty Renaissance angel.”

He only chuckles, burying his face against your chest.

You tilt your head to kiss his temple, your voice a soft murmur against his skin. “Come on. Let’s wash up.”

He groans. “Or we could stay like this forever.”

“You’re sweating all over me.” you protest, already nudging at his side.

He lifts his head just enough to squint at you. “You liked it when I was sweating five minutes ago.”

You roll your eyes, pushing him off with a laugh as you both untangle from the bed. The sheets are a mess, still warm with everything that happened, and your thighs ache, making you bite your lip as you stand. You grab a towel and toss one at him too. He catches it, looking far too smug for someone who was blushing just an hour ago.

As you step under the warm spray, Caleb holding your hand for stability, something crosses your mind.

“Hey… did you really drool on the pillow?”

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