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deathbyhertouch · 1 month ago

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god DAMN was this amazing holy FUCK

Sharpshooter | DRW

Be careful what you bet for.

Pairing: Daniel Wagner x f!reader

Word count: 20k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A fatal mistake.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah, what did it matter?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, most of the time, at least.

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

It was haunting just the same as it was comforting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A valiant woman… I can appreciate that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And that was playing pool?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If you went home alone, would you regret it?

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

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

You hoped so, anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What did that mean?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you had to win.

It wasn’t an option, nor a question.

Winning was the only thing you knew how to do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You hardly know me, rockstar.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s only fair, Daniel.” You looked upwards, feeling the closeness of your face to his as gravity continued to force you towards him. “Unless you’re not a very generous person, in which case would make our little arrangement much less intriguing for me.”

“Now you’re jumping to conclusions, baby.” He grinned, almost amused that you would pin him with such a crime. The pet name sent your already racing mind spiraling even further, making you want to jump straight into his arms and figure out the truth of the matter yourself. You let your tongue run over your bottom lip, your mouth watering from the smell of his cologne and the intoxicating look in his eye. The tension between the two of you was immeasurable, and it was growing worse by the second.

You wanted to drop the act and touch him, uncaring of how he obtained his skills and eager to see his talents in other areas. Still, you stood your ground, cue gripped tightly in your hand as you stared him down. You were annoyed that he deceived you, but more annoyed at yourself for letting him.

You let out a huff of frustration, understanding he would not answer your question right away, and turned on your heel to continue the game. With intent, you barely stepped out of the way as you leaned down to aim at the white ball, making sure to push your hips back far enough that you were just inches away from where he stood. So far, both of you had done incredibly well in ignoring the temptation of each other, but you knew his willpower was cracking when you heard him suck in a sharp breath through his teeth.

Admiring you from a distance was very different than having you bent over in front of him, within arms reach and with intent to bother him.

It certainly didn’t help that he had been picturing what you looked like underneath your clothes all night, and the tight dress you were wearing gave him an even better idea than he had before.

His eyes were fixated on the slight sway of your hips as you took aim, never daring to look away as you took your shot at a striped ball. You managed to land two balls in one shot, speeding up the process and leaving you just a bit further ahead than he was.

Before you shot again, you looked back over your shoulder, keeping your position as you locked eyes with him. You noticed the rise and fall of his chest a little more aggressive than it was moments before. The same animalistic look was shining in his eye, and his knuckles had turned white from the grip on his pool stick. You felt your core aching, desperate for relief as the two of you continued your tyrant without letting up. To rub a little extra salt in the wound, you gave a subtle wink and blew a kiss at him.

“I might need help with my next shot.” Your lower lip jutted outwards into a slight pout, playing on his already worn nerves. “Could you teach me how to shoot like you do?”

Both of you knew you didn’t need any help, but part of your teasing came from a place of desperation, unsure if you could handle another minute without his hands on you. Intoxication had become you, and the many beers you had finished off that night were finally beginning to catch up. He stood stoic for a moment, knowing if he turned down the offer, he would be an idiot. Still, the simple thought of you beating him and him not getting to take you home was wearing on him.

Confident in his own abilities, he decided to take the risk.

Leaning his cue on the wall nearby, he stepped closer to you, slow and gentle as he realized just how intimate the position was. You felt his hips press against your ass, his upper half leaning down to meet yours. Your chest was already low to the table, nearly pressing against it as his chest fit flush against your back. Ever so slightly, he let his chin rest on your shoulder and his arm wrap around yours.

“You don’t need help at all, baby.” He hummed, the warmth of his breath tickling the skin of your neck. His lips hovered just above your ear, making your heart race and your palms break out into a sweat.

“Maybe I just wanted you close to me.” You offered, feeling his heartbeat racing just as fast as your own. “Good luck charm, or whatever.”

More like a distraction, but you couldn’t seem to care. Feeling him fit so snug against you was better than winning a thousand games.

His large hand landed on your hip, his skin searing with heat and felt like it was burning straight through the fabric of your skirt. Immediately, without hesitation, you pushed your hips back into him a little further, hearing that same strained breath catch in his throat.

“Take the shot, then.” His tone was firm, challenging you as he spoke. His mouth was grazing your skin now, the man completely overtaken by desire and unable to think of anything else.

“What if I want to enjoy it for a little bit?” You bit back a smile, but knew you were feeling the effects of it too.

“Can enjoy me all you want when I win the damn game.” He growled, his low tone sending a shiver down your spine.

“Is that so?” You asked, ignoring the throbbing between your legs as you drew your arm back and prepared to take your shot. He did not respond, instead watching your movements carefully and staying as still as possible so he did not interfere with your play. When he did not reply, you followed through and knocked the cue ball forward, watching as it hit one of your last two balls into the side pocket. “Don’t be so sure of yourself, honey.” You turned your head to the side, the tip of your nose brushing his as you did so. You felt his fingers tighten on your hip, gently guiding you closer to him as he resisted the urge to close the gap between your mouths.

“Game’s not over yet, sharpshooter.” He reminded you, his brown eyes heavy lidded as he seemingly stared straight into your soul. As he straightened up, pulling away from you so you could not bewitch him any further, his palm grazed the curve of your ass, only worsening your growing need for him. Still, as badly as you wanted him, you were half tempted to win and leave him behind, just to teach him a lesson about his egotistical ways.

Still feeling your skin tingling from his earlier touch, you were vibrating as you leaned down to shoot at your last colored ball. You noticed Daniel had not moved from his place, nor had he moved his eyes from you. The thought alone had you reeling, and the longer he stared the more nervous you felt. You had to close your eyes to focus your thoughts before making any moves, but it seemingly did nothing to help when you misjudged the strength in which you shot. Your striped ball ricocheted off the rail and rolled all the way back down the table, nowhere near any pocket at all, let alone the one you called.

“Fuck,” you whispered to yourself, stressed as you studied the table and digested the very real possibility of him winning the game.

“To answer your question,” he started, breaking you free from your internal brooding. Your eyes snapped to him, immediately relieved of your stress once you remembered how alluring and enchanting he was. “When you spend so much time on the road, you start to look for things to pass the time.” He continued, ignoring the game waiting to be played and focused only on you, clad in a little black dress that would ultimately be his demise.

“Rockstar lifestyle not enough to please you?” You raised an eyebrow, reading him as he stepped towards you.

“No, it is.” He corrected, his eyes casted down over your face as he closed in on you again. “But when your biggest responsibility is getting on stage and playing music, the rest of the world seems a little boring. We spend a lot of time at bars, which usually leaves us standing in front of a pool table.” He shrugged, his eyes flickering to the green felt. “Those guys are my best friends… my brothers, and you aren’t really siblings without friendly competition, right?”

“Right.” You chuckled, finding yourself completely enamored with him as he spoke. You wanted to know everything, to hear every story and share every memory. You hoped he was willing to give as much as you yearned to take.

“We bet on lots of stuff… twenty bucks doesn’t mean much when the same bill gets passed around to everyone. Pool just happened to be one of ‘em.” He seemed to grip his cue tighter as he stood before you, resisting the urge to reach out and touch you. The temptation seemed to be wearing on him, but he was doing his best to withstand it. “We played so much that we never kept that twenty for more than a game or two, so I decided to put some extra effort in. Never cared much about the money, but it gave me something to do.”

“So you made it your life’s goal to master pool… for a twenty you don’t even give a shit about?” You giggled, feeling the heat of his body start to take a toll on you. You wanted to bring him closer, to close the gap between you for good and forget about the stupid bet that got you here.

“For something worth a lot more than twenty dollars, baby.” He corrected, grinning as he noticed the slight blush on your cheeks. “For bragging rights.”

“A humble man.” Sarcasm dripped from your tone, but you weren’t put off by the thought at all. If anything, you were just desperate to keep the conversation alive.

“No, but seriously.” He chuckled, leaning down and taking a shot at the cue ball. As he sank the last coloured ball and called his pocket, you both realized he had little chance at sinking the eight ball with the position in which the cue ball landed. Taking his loss, he made a quick move to block your next shot, figuring if he could not win he could at least make it harder for you. “At first, I just played ‘cause it was fun. It really does get boring… or monotonous on the road sometimes, and I think we all agreed on that. We all started playing against each other, and at first, we sucked. Like, so bad one game would take us all night.” He smiled to himself, finding the memory as funny as you did.

“We all start somewhere, huh?” You completely ignored the fact it was your turn, too enthralled in his voice to care about anything else.

“Yeah, that’s for sure.” He agreed, raising a hand to the back of his neck as he nodded. “Once we started to get better, I realized just how annoying it was to lose against them, because they were insufferable about it. So I started to practice more… went to bars on my own, played against myself and whoever else was around… watched a few videos. I really was determined to get better, just so I wouldn’t have to hear them brag about beating me anymore.” At that, you couldn’t help but giggle, finding that the funniest bit of all.

“So it’s an ego thing? Couldn’t handle it?”

“No, I don’t think you understand.” He laughed, his shoulders shaking and his eyes glistening with joy for being able to share this moment with you. “I’m okay with losing, but they’re the type of guys to never let you forget it. You’ll get it, when you meet them.”

When you meet them.

Whatever was going on between you two, he wanted it to last. He wanted you to meet his friends, to be a part of the inside jokes and share the sentiments instead of just hearing a retelling of them.

You weren’t sure why, but it touched your heart much more than you thought it should.

“After a while, they caught on to me.” He confessed, his lips still holding the ghost of a smile as he watched your expression. “That’s when it really became a competition. With Sam especially, ‘cause we’ve been friends forever. Just a rite of passage for us to do shit like that.” He continued to explain himself, but you were no longer listening or caring about how he acquired his talents. Instead, you were already daydreaming about what would happen when you stepped out of the bar, what the rest of the night would hold.

You liked him, and there was no doubt about it. Everything about him, the curl of his hair and the sparkle in his eye, the slight Midwest accent still lingering in his tone and the sweetness dripping from every word. There was a kind of light, a sense of wonder and warmth that radiated from him as he stood, and you couldn’t seem to keep your eyes off of him. Worse yet, you were so attracted to him that you could barely keep your hands to yourself, and for the first time in your entire career, you were ready to throw the game and take the loss with pride.

“I like you, Danny.” You confessed, the words tumbling from your lips before you could stop them. The confident facade shattered in an instant, leaving your cheeks stained red and your lower lip caught between your teeth, embarrassed about your own blunt nature.

“Yeah?” He raised an eyebrow, a sheepish smile on his face as he processed your words. “I like you too, sharpshooter.”

“You’re not going to win this game, though.” You continued, trying to regain your composure as your heart raced in your chest. At that, he gave a playful roll of his eyes, motioning to the table.

“If you’re so sure of that, why don’t you win, then?”

“Good idea.” You hummed, giving a curt nod. Your head was swimming, making you realize you were much more intoxicated than you thought, but you would not let it get in your way. “Tell me about your music, rockstar.”

“Not much to tell.” He shrugged, one hand in the pocket of his jeans and the other holding his cue close to his body. He watched as you leaned down towards the table, gravity pulling the fabric of your dress away from your chest ever so slightly and causing his breath to catch in his throat. Shifting on his feet, he tried his best not to let it distract him, but he couldn’t help but fix his gaze directly on the skin where the fabric used to lay. “It’s a rock band… started it a long time ago, when we were in high school. Released a few albums and we’re about to go on tour for another one.”

“Jeez, don’t sound so enthusiastic about it.” You smiled, noticing his trailing eyes and understanding he was no better than you were, for your gaze was stuck on him just the same. Particularly where his shirt met his jeans, how when he moved just right, it shifted and exposed the smallest flash of skin.

“I am enthusiastic, but I don’t want to sound like I’m bragging. That never leaves a good impression, now does it?” He raised an eyebrow, noticing your eyes fixated on him but nowhere near his face. Smug and cocky, he waited until you looked away.

“I asked, didn’t I?” You challenged, finally looking up to meet his eye and noticing he was no longer fixated on your chest. Your stomach filled with lead, but the look in his eye did not lead you to believe he was judging you for your actions. Instead, it was curious, inviting you in for more without having to say a word.

“I play the drums.” He continued, giving in a little bit as he realized you truly did want to know and weren’t just asking as a formality. At that, the definition of the muscles in his arms suddenly made a whole lot more sense.

Then, behind your eyes, a vision of him using that strength for nothing innocent derailed your train of thought completely. You felt your thighs squeeze together instinctively, the arousal pooling beginning to soak straight through your underwear.

‘Fuck, Y/N. Get it together.’ You thought to yourself, almost appalled at how distracted he had you. You gave your head a slight shake, refocusing your eyes on the table as you drew your arm back, calling for a corner pocket and taking your shot.

“Son of a bitch.” You hissed through your teeth, all of the factors working together to frustrate you further. The ball bounced off the corner of the pocket and rolled backwards, close but not close enough. The throbbing between your legs and the twist of your stomach was driving you mad, making your palms clammy and your mouth dry.

“We won a Grammy, too.” He added, smirking at your obvious disappointment.

Hold on—Grammy?

“What?” You asked, eyebrows raised in surprise as you forgot about your previous annoyance. “That’s like… a big deal, Daniel. Usually an opening line.” You informed him, watching as he approached the table. You were still leaning downwards over the table, eye level with his waist as he towered over the opposite side. You tried your best to ignore the racing thoughts and sinful ideas flooding your mind, but it was proving impossible.

“Some would disagree.” He brushed it off, clearly proud of the achievement but doing whatever he could to get under your skin.

“Take your shot, rockstar.” You rolled your eyes, carefully raising yourself from the table as he lined himself up. You couldn’t help but notice how ethereal he seemed under the dim pot lights, how his hair hung over his shoulder and framed his perfectly crafted face, how the muscles in his arms flecked with every move. The chains around his neck hung low to the table, the watch on his wrist twinkling under the light, and that damn bandana on his head made him all the more charming.

You could feel every beat of your heart under your skin and behind your eyes. The flutter of your stomach as you watched him was nearly unbearable, and you wondered how in the hell one man could have such an intoxicating effect on you. Typically, you did not fall for the charm of regular bar patrons, but he was no regular guy. Everything about him was intriguing and intense, so overwhelming in the best possible way. You wanted him in every way you could have him, and you couldn’t bear to wait another moment.

“—sharpshooter!” Your attention was drawn to his smiling face, his expression delicately laced with glee as he looked down at the velvet tabletop. You furrowed your brows, hesitant to admit you missed the first part of his statement because you were too busy daydreaming about him.

Shit.

He won.

Effortlessly, he sank the eight ball and left the table clear of all but the cue ball. His words were not that of conversation, but of celebration. Your shock and upset did not come from regret on behalf of your wager, but simply because you lost. It had been a long time since you had fumbled so badly, and it was much harder to swallow than you previously thought it would be.

Trying your best to push that aside, you realized the other side of the coin was not any better. The burgeoning nervousness growing in the pit of your stomach was nearly sickening, forcing you to understand that it wasn’t just play anymore. You had been waiting to get his clothes off all night, but what if you were less than he expected? What if you disappointed him?

“Hey,” Danny’s sweet tone cut you loose from your endless stream of dread. As soon as your eyes connected with his, you understood you had nothing to be worried about. After everything you had seen from him, learned about him, you knew deep down he would never be that kind of person even if he tried. Goodness surrounded him, and you could not refute his kindness, not even for a single moment. “If you’re having second thoughts, we don’t have to do this, you know. I’m happy to have another beer and maybe take you for dinner tomorrow, if you’re free.”

God, why did he have to be so unbelievably perfect?

You felt guilty that your expression led him to believe you did not want to follow through, because that could not have been further from the truth. In fact, the longer you stared back at him, the more the ache between your legs pestered you. Quickly, it had become the only thing you could think about, much more pressing than your loss and much more important than your feeble insecurities. Without a second thought, you placed your cue down on the table with much less grace than usual and closed the space between you. He turned to face you, shocked at your suddenness but receptive to the change. You reached upwards, your arms snaking around his neck as your fingers tangled in the hair laying on the nape of his neck. Instantly, his large hands found your hips, pulling your body closer until you were flush against him, the beat of his heart as strong and fast as your own.

He tasted sweet, a hint of beer still lingering on his lips as you finally leaned forward and captured him in a kiss. The warmth of his body was inviting, his touch seemingly burning holes straight through the fabric of your dress. Your head was spinning, filled with thoughts only pertaining to him, and suddenly the bar in which you normally found solace was no longer where you wanted to be. His tongue traced your lower lip, his hands sliding backwards and settling just over the curve of your ass as he pulled your hips further into him. You let out a hum of pleasure, elated at his forwardness and tempting him to take it a step further.

The scent of his cologne had invaded every one of your senses, suffocating you in the most beautiful ways as you pleaded with him for more. The feeling of kissing him was beyond anything you had imagined that night, and now that you started, you couldn’t make yourself stop.

“Fuck, baby.” He muttered, his lips still grazing yours as he spoke. Now that he had a taste of the sweetness

“A deal is a deal, rockstar.” You murmured, eyes heavy as the tip of your nose brushed his. For a moment, you forgot where you were—the only thing that existed was you and Daniel, and the surge of emotion hanging so heavily between you.

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” He replied, keeping one arm around you as he pulled his wallet out with the other.

Without complaint, you let him lead you towards the door, throwing a bill on the counter as you passed by Chuck, who was too amused at your appearance to utter a goodbye. Within minutes, you were in the backseat of a cab and on your way to Daniel’s house, which you didn’t even thing twice about. Feeling his hands on you, burning into the skin of your thigh as you drove in near silence, nothing else mattered.

When the cab pulled into his driveway, you were blinded by need for him. Any other day, in your right might, you may have marvelled at the beauty of his home, or perhaps felt nervous that your apartment could never compare. As Daniel helped you out of the back of the cab, you didn’t even have time to think of it, your head swimming with excitement for what was to come next.

Soon after, you were inside, the openness of his entry way leading to the living room unable to be marvelled at, because his lips were on your own again. The taste of him on your tongue, the sweetness of his skin, was almost too much to withstand. The ache between your legs grew stronger with every second that passed, and your stomach twisted in knots as your fingers wrapped around his bicep, pulling him closer than he could possibly get. His hands were on your hips, strong and firm as he held you to him, similar to how he touched you at the bar but with so much more intent. You could feel him through his jeans, his need for you showcased in the most beautiful way as all of the pent up tension bled both of you dry.

The faintest of whimpers fell from your lips as you kissed him, and he drank in the sound like it was necessary for survival. His hand slid backwards, over your ass as your hearts began to beat in time. Your head was spinning, filled with filth and sin as you craved more. You weren’t sure what came over you, the carnal desire so consuming you weren’t sure you had ever felt it so strongly before.

Never breaking from the kiss, he led you towards his couch, slow and cautious so that you would not get hurt. Soon enough, you felt the back of your legs knock against the leather surface, the chill shooting straight through you and sending you further into him. Taking the initiative, you sat yourself down, using your hands on his arms to pull you with him. The whole scene was primal, rushed and desperate. All night, the two of you had been dying to get to someone’s house to pursue the very act you were engaging in then.

Daniel lowered himself with you, but used his strength to push you further back, not stopping until your back was flush against the cushions and he was kneeling in front of you. Feeling a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins, you finally pulled away to admire him. His lips were swollen, pink and slick with saliva. His eyes were dark, his pupils blown and engulfing his irises. You wished to sit and admire him all day, but he had different plans. His hands were snaking up your thighs, his fingers under the skirt of your dress and pushing it upwards, stopping only when the fabric was bunched at your hips and exposing your lower half.

He sucked in a sharp breath, overcome with emotion at the sight, but did not wait to hook his fingers beneath the lace of your panties. Lifting yourself from the couch, you helped him as he slipped them off, tossing them behind him and out of sight. Returning his hands to you, your entire body was electrified with arousal, your stomach in knots as he lowered his head to your thighs.

His lips dusted over the soft skin, the attention new and exciting after months of going without. Even so, what he was doing then paled in comparison to anyone who came before, and you knew it would always be that way. There was something so special about Daniel, so enthralling and enchanting, and in a single night you knew that you never wanted anyone or anything else.

As his tongue traced over the inside of your thigh, he used his hand to push your legs further apart, exposing you completely. Your hands raised to his head, your fingers snaking through his hair as it curled around your hands. It was soft, perfect, the light tickling sensation adding to the overwhelming stimulation you were already experiencing. Just as you grew comfortable in your new position, feeling the gentle suction of his mouth on the inside of your legs, leaving marks for days to come, you felt the gentle pinch of his teeth closing around the supple flesh. Your hips raised off the couch, shocked at the new feeling, but definitely not opposed to it.

Looking down at him, admiring the sight of him between your legs, you wondered what parts of your soul necessary to sell in order to enjoy the sin forever. As his tongue connected with your core, your head falling back on your shoulders, you knew it did not matter—you would give anything, no matter how dark or dangerous, in order to have him in such a way whenever you wanted. The warmth of his mouth, the slight movement of his tongue as it traced over your aching clit was addicting, more intense than anything you had ever felt, and exactly what you had been dreaming of since you first laid eyes on him.

The muscles in your abdomen tensed, pulling with the wave of pleasure that washed over you. Your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him closer as you casted a leg over his shoulder. Your shoulders shook with the ragged breath you drew in, knowing that it would not take long for him to get you exactly where he wanted you. A breathy moan filled the air surrounding you, loud and obscene as it made home in the walls, cementing the memory of your entanglement forever. As he flattened his tongue against you, repeating the same motion, your hips raised from the couch to meet his time, your body begging for more when your lips could not do it for you.

The need was throbbing under your skin, taking over your entire body and turning you into a mess below him. He hummed against you, showing his appreciation for the show you were putting on. Feeling your nipples harden, the slight friction against the rough fabric of your dress sent you even further down the spiral. A shiver went down your spine as he suctioned his lips around your clit, the slight pressure overwhelming and pushing you closer to the steep edge.

You were nearly embarrassed, humiliated that it took so little for him to get such a reaction. You wanted to blame it on how long it had been since you fell into bed with a man, how focused you were on everything but romance, but you knew it was all because of him. From the minute you laid eyes on him, you knew he was the very thing you were waiting for, the only reason to break your unintentional spell of abstinence, because he was worth it. He wasn’t just in it for himself, nor was he pretending to be something he was not. He was just a man, undeniably capable of things many others weren’t, and he wanted to use the skill with you. He was different, and you knew it from the minute you met him, and you hoped he felt the same about you.

“Oh, fuck.” You whined, the breath knocked straight from your lungs as he slipped his hand between your leg, the tip of his middle finger collecting wetness by your entrance. “Please, Danny—need more.” You choked out, the desire pulsing behind your eyes as you wondered if you could even handle more.

Obliging to the request, he slipped his middle finger inside of you, slow as he curled it ever so slightly. The feeling was euphoric paired with the movement of his tongue, and the cry of desperation that forced its way through you only encouraged him further.

“I guess my biggest question, sharpshooter,” he said, breathless as he pulled his mouth away from you. The loss was debilitating, but he slipped his thumb in place, just so he did not lose the momentum. You looked down, the cockiness written clear across his expression agitating just as well as it was enticing. “Is if I’m making you feel good?”

“Fuck you.” You muttered, my cheeks blazing as you held his gaze. For some reason, the eye contact was even more intense than anything else he was doing, making it seem like he had stripped you down to bare bones and wisps of soul, seeing the very things that made you, you.

“Yeah, that was my intention.” He teased, adding his index finger as he kept a steady pace, the slight curl of his fingers pushing you closer to a climax. “But that's not an answer.”

“God, yes.” You seethed, unsure why you were irritated when he was doing so much for you. Perhaps you were still brooding about your loss, about how he had many tricks up his sleeve he’d kept well hidden. Though his deceit paid off for both of you, you were a sore loser.

“Don’t sound so sure of yourself.” He echoed your earlier words, taunting me as the pull of pleasure threatened you. You were balancing on a delicate line, and it wouldn’t take much more to push you over the edge.

“What, you couldn’t see for yourself?” You tried your hardest to give it back to him, but your strength was wavering. Your eyes fluttered closed as your head fell back again. A gutteral sound left your lips, tainting the room with sin as your back arched off the couch.

“I could, but hearing you say it is so much better.” He confirmed, clearly seeing the state you were in, knowing exactly what he was doing to you. He had little remorse, little care, and he was intent to follow through until the very end. “Come on, baby. Tell me all about it.”

With that, he returned his mouth to you, his tongue taking the place of his fingers. The switch was lethal, the soft, warm wetness of his mouth overwhelming in the best possible way. Paired with the curl of his fingers, still moving inside you with that same, perfect pace, he did not miss a single movement. Feeling the tension in your belly reach a peak, you choked on the breath trying to force its way to your lungs.

The intensity grew as his tongue traced over the sensitive bundle of nerves, and soon after, you came crashing down. Spewing obscenities, your hands held his head in place as your hips raised to meet the time of his tongue, the orgasm so intense you felt like you were floating. For a few, unbearable seconds, your joints locked and your whole body ached from the sensation, your throat raw as you cried his name, pleading for something you knew you could not handle.

Waking you through it, he did not slow until you relaxed against the cushions. You barely noticed as he pulled away, still high from the pleasure and trying to come down. Finally cracking your eyes open, you noticed he was standing over you, undoing the buckle of his belt as he pulled it free from the loops of his denim jeans. He was painfully hard, strained against the zipper and desperate for relief himself. Your mouth watered at the thought, so eager to feel him inside of you that you did not wait until he directed you further.

With shaky limbs, you sat up, holding eye contact as he freed himself from his jeans and his boxers. Switching positions, he could not seem to pry his gaze from your fucked our expression, your flushed cheeks and plush lips the only thing on his mind until you turned away, not taking the time to rid yourself of your dress as you faced the back of the couch on your knees. Planting one firm hand on the frame, you looked back over your shoulders as you pushed your hips backward, towards him as you offered the very thing he’d been thinking of all night.

With a hiss of joy staining his teeth, his large palms landed on your hips, pulling you back a little further to make it easier for him. Stepping forward at the same time, you felt his cock against you, the tip gliding through the pooling arousal at your entrance. If possible, the sensation sent you further over the edge, so animalistic that you could barely recognize yourself.

“Is this what you wanted, rockstar?” You asked, your knuckles white as you felt him glide through your folds. The tip of his cock brushed over your sensitive clit, your legs twitching from the intense feeling.

“Bet on it, didn’t I?” He asked, knowing he was only teasing both of you further by refusing to fuck you.

“You could’ve just asked, you know.” You pointed out, sucking in a sharp breath as he repeated the same action over again. Your legs were trembling, barely holding you up, but you refused to give in. “Or were you too scared I’d turn you down?”

“Scared isn’t quite the word.” He corrected you, finally settling his tip just over your entrance. You felt yourself clench around nothing, wanting him so badly but refusing to give him any more gratification to fuel his ego. “No shame in earning something. You’d know something about that, wouldn’t you, sharpshooter?”

“You really would have gone home alone if you lost?” You asked, curious more than anything, wondering if he had wanted you just as badly, or if it really was a game to him.

“Fuck no.” He nearly laughed, slamming his hips forward at the same time as he spoke, catching you off guard and knocking the air from your lungs. Gasping at the feeling of him filling you completely, the stretch as you accommodated his size was addicting, irresistible. “We both knew I was always going to win.”

Before you could respond, he withdrew his hips and slammed forward with the same, bruising force. As the tip of his cock brushed against your cervix, your whole body reacted, your walls squeezing around him and pulling him in further. Drunk off him and eager for him to keep going, you still couldn’t keep your mouth shut, unwilling to go down without a fight.

“So you weren’t amazed by my skill.” You called him on the white lie, forcing the words through gritted teeth while pushing yourself back on him. He began a steady pace as you tried so hard to keep your mind straight to not give him the satisfaction. You looked back over your shoulder, catching his eye and locking him in a stare. He raised his hand to your head, gathering your hair in his palm and wrapping it around his fist. Pulling your head back ever so slightly, the new leverage he had over you sent your head spinning.

“It had nothing to do with skill, beautiful.” He replied, giving you a soft smile. The small expression sent your stomach fluttering with nerves for a whole new reason, making you fear that it only took a single night for you to fall head over heels for him.

“Then what would you call it, darlin’?” You asked, your breath hitching in your throat as a wave of pleasure washed over you. Tightening his grip on your hair, he pulled your head back a little further as he leaned down, his lips settled just over your ear as his warm breath tickled your burning skin. You couldn’t help but arch your back further, feeling the curve of your ass fit nicely against the groove of his hip.

You wondered, if you weren’t meant to go home with him, why the hell did the two of you fit so perfectly together?

“How the hell were you supposed to win when you couldn’t keep your eyes off of me?” He asked, making your mouth run dry as the vibration of his words ran straight through you. Swallowing hard, you felt his teeth close around your earlobe, applying slight pressure and sending you over the edge.

Taking it upon yourself, you moved your head to the side against the strength of his hand, unable to resist as you pressed your lips against his own. The taste of him was intoxicating, even more so with the taste of you still lingering on his lips. You felt his tongue graze your skin, your heartbeat so agonizingly strong it was all you could hear. It was messy, heated, and perfectly fitting for the two of you thus far. You weren’t sure anything else would work. Two seemingly strong personalities with no intent to back down, it was a battle from the minute you locked eyes across the pool table, and you had no intent of stopping.

He continued to move inside of you, the feeling even more intense after your last orgasm, and you knew you weren’t far out from a second. The sharpness of his tongue, always having a comeback, and the witty yet playful nature of his responses did more for you than his hands or his mouth did. It was a struggle to find someone who balanced you out, which was a big reason why you neglected to give in to the other men who tried to do as he did that night. For some reason, you knew, without doubt, that Daniel was the type of person you had been looking for all along. Exciting, challenging, and fun, but still sweet and kind. You wondered why he picked you, a burn-out adrenaline junkie who only ever paid rent on a whim.

It was easy to ask why, but as he moved against you, the answer was right before your very eyes. The chemistry between you was undeniable, something that could not be faked, and something that could not be ignored. Some things are just right, no matter how hard you try to fight it, and as it seemed, the stars aligned perfectly for you without you even realizing it.

Breaking from the kiss, you tried to catch your breath, finding it difficult as he moved inside of you. The pleasure was undeniable, bordering on painful as your body begged him for more. More he could not give, and more you could not handle, but god you wanted it. Everything about him made you want more, even if it was an impossible task, and as you verged on the edge of a second orgasm, you knew letting him go wasn’t an option. Not only had he amazed you with his ability to beat you at your own game, but he amazed you in every other sense. Disappointment was a far away feeling when with him, and that was something you wanted to get used to.

“Fuck, Danny.” You whined, his face still close to yours. The words vibrated through both of you, the feeling of him pressed against you exhilarating as you stared that same innate desire in the eye.

“That’s it, baby. Tell me how good it feels.” His words forced the knot in your belly tighter, fraying and threatening as it pleaded with you to let go.

“You fill me so fucking good.” You confessed, your whole body covered in a sheen layer of sweat as you tried to keep up with him. “M’gonna cum.” You confessed, knowing that you couldn’t take it any longer. Your mascara was running down your cheeks, blazing red and warm. Your throat was raw, your body aching with need, and you knew he was the only answer.

“Cum for me, baby. Being such a good girl.” You gasped at the sound of the praise, washing over you like summer rain and coercing you to let go. “Show me how good I make you feel.”

That seemed to be all you needed to give in to the feeling, submitting to the torturous pressure as your posture faltered, leaving you a mess again underneath him. The pathetic cries falling from your lips coerced him to do the same, his hips faltering and his pace slowing as the pleasure took over. The two of you, finally giving in to what you wanted so badly, experiencing a euphoric high together. He spilled his release inside of you, the sensation drawing out your orgasm just a bit longer as your body begged you to draw in a breath. Keeping a slow roll of his hips, he ensured you got the most pleasure possible, only slowing to a stop when the curses falling from your lips turned into desperate cries, pleading for mercy.

Both of you drew in a ragged breath as your composure faltered, your body trying to relax against the couch as you attempted to come back to. Carefully, Danny withdrew from you, making sure you were alright before sitting next to you. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into him as he laid back against the arm, caring little for the mess and more about being near you.

The entire night had been a whirlwind of events, the adrenaline so high you barely had a moment to catch up with it. Laying there with him, silent and calm, you knew that what came before could not even compare to it. The strong arms holding you close, keeping you secure as you processed the rapid pace that led you there. You wondered, was it normal to feel so comfortable with someone you had just met? Was it normal to feel like you had known him your entire life?

You had let him in beyond what many others could comprehend, telling him about your father and allowing him to beat you at a game of pool, and not even that scared you. If anything, you were happy you did, and your only thought was when it could happen again. You wanted to keep getting to know him, to keep telling him things you never before cared to tell, and you wanted him to meet Izzy, because you knew she would love him. It was strange to be so open to letting someone in, but deep in your heart you felt it was the only thing you could do. Forcing him out seemed more painful than allowing him in.

“You okay, sharpshooter?” He asked, his voice so soft and different than it had been all night, so doting and caring. It was nice to be seen, nice to be known, and you wanted to know what it was like with him.

“Yeah, I’m good.” You nodded, smiling to yourself. “Just thinking.”

“About?” He chuckled, his long fingers toying with the ends of your hair. The slight tickle on your skin was soothing. You never wanted him to stop.

“You, I guess.” You shrugged. “I guess this means I lost out on backstage passes.” Laughing to himself, he raised a free hand to your face, turning your head to look at him. He admired you for a moment, the redness of your cheeks and the shine of your eyes, finding himself feeling all the same ways.

“I’m sure we could work something out.” He assured you, swiping away flecks of fallen mascara with his thumb.

“Guess that would mean I didn’t earn it.” You teased, exhausted yet still energized by his company. A blinding smile on his face, you couldn’t help but notice the tugging of your heartstrings.

“So, what? You want a rematch?” He raised an eyebrow, wondering if that’s really what you were asking of him.

“I guess so.” You shrugged, giggling to yourself as you stared up at his beautiful face. “Unless you’re scared it was beginners luck?”

“No, not scared.” He reiterated his earlier claim, his thumb still tracing your cheek. “You think you can handle the stakes?”

“I think I could manage.” You nodded, the same stupid smile still pulling your lips. It seemed permanent so long as he was around. “I suppose losing isn’t all that bad… especially if it’s to the right person.”

Against everything you ever believed, you knew for a fact the loss resulted in a bigger gain than ever before, and you would do it again in a heartbeat if it meant he was the prize.

#a’s fic recs #gvf smut #danny wagner smut

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