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jarfulloftears · 2 months ago

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❝ seven years and a day short, annie x smoke. ❞ ‎

ooo. 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔… established relationship, mutual pining, jealousy, vaginal fingering, explicit sexual content, emotional hurt/comfort, feelings, brief thoughts of violence, handjobs, semi-public sex. brief use of the n-word. soft!smoke.

ooo. 𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔… smoke and annie reunite after seven years apart.

ooo. 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔… so i wrote another one because i am literally obsessed with these two and couldn’t get them out of my head. this one is wayyyy longer than the first one so be aware lol. i just loveee how soft smoke is for / around annie 😩 michael and wunmi’s chemistry is truly unmatched.

seven years.

that’s how much time had passed between them. seven long, excruciating years that seemed to bleed into each other. seven years since he’s last seen her, held her, kissed and made love to her. but for smoke it felt like an eternity. he didn’t believe in love at first sight — he thought it was a ridiculous concept; being able to fall in love with someone so quickly without truly knowing them. that kind of naive thinking was more of stack’s beliefs.

smoke’s witnessed enough of his brother’s love affairs to deduce love as being a complicated concept that wasn’t meant for everyone. he didn’t indulge in the promiscuous women that they met at the juke joints like stack did and turned down every salacious offer that they made. he wouldn’t even look at them long enough to show interest. and they would roll their eyes in offense and frustration at his nonchalance before walking off to find someone else to feed them attention they were seeking.

but it didn’t matter to smoke because no woman compared to her. annie completely ruined him to the point where he felt no attraction to anyone else. his body and heart were reserved solely for her even after all these years. he’s been inside of her enough to know no one else could pull that same visceral reaction out of him the way that she used to; the one that had him persevering through his virility and fucking her until their bodies were shaking from overstimulation.

she owned him. every inch of his body was hers and he never once contemplated on sharing any part of himself with anyone else. he didn’t believe in love; not at first. not until he met her.

he found ways to satiate himself through his sexual frustrations. like now he was sprawled out across the mattress, laid wide awake with his mind wandering on annie. he slipped his hands underneath the waistband of his pants and reached for his cock that was already messily leaking against the fabric of his underwear.

his body shivered as he wrapped his fingers around the engorged flesh, palming himself until he’s got a firm grip. he brushed his thumb over the tip; smearing the precum and using it as a lubricant to slick himself up. his chest heaved in spasms, breaths came out rugged and labored through his flared nostrils, eyes squeezed shut as he tugged his hand in an undulating motion.

he allowed his mind to wander on annie; imagining that it was her dexterous hands that were jerking him off instead of his own, imagining how vocal and filthy she would be as she engaged in teasing him towards completion. smoke’s hips rolled in tandem against his hands as he tugged with vigor, picturing annie’s succulent lips stretched around his the shape of cock sucking him off until he’s completely boneless and milked dry.

his jaw clenched in accordance to his jerking movements. he spreads his legs further open, allotting himself more space as he twisted and tugged at his taut flesh. parts of him wants to delay his orgasm so that he could keep indulging in his thoughts of annie but his body is desperate for a release with him already feeling it creeping up on him in the way his abdomen clenched and toes curled in the fabric of his socks.

“annie,” smoke grunts, biting so harshly on his lower lip that he tasted the salty bitterness of blood stinting from the bruise.

he stifles his moan behind pursed lips, wary of inadvertently waking his brother who was only feet away in the room beside him. smoke’s body goes lax as he releases; his pulse slows and his breathing steadies as he laid there in the filth of his fluids with his mind still thinking about annie.

…

“you nervous?” stack questions, though there’s a teasing tone behind it that has smoke narrowing his gaze in on him.

they were traveling back to the south as their time with capone had come to an abrupt end. all throughout the journey of their migration, smoke’s mind anxiously wandered on annie and their reconciliation. his thoughts soon became torturous as he contemplated on the possibility of her moving on with someone else or her still being upset about him leaving all those years to want to see him again.

usually smoke was good at masquerading his emotions but he always seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve whenever it came to annie. and of course stack was always the one to notice the subtitles in his brother’s emotions and demeanor; at how his fingers tapped nervously against his pants as he stared at the bypassing scenery of field workers with his face furrowed in a contemplative frown.

nervous was too meek in its description to describe how he was feeling. smoke was fucking terrified at the thought of her rejecting him or telling him that she had fallen out of love with him during the seven year stint of their separation.

stack pursed his lips and inhaled a sharp drag from the cigarette that he was smoking. he blew the smoke into the air before turning his attention back on his brother. he chuckles, shaking his head as he heeded smoke’s nervous demeanor. “all these years and annie’s still got you wrapped around her finger?”

smoke doesn’t even offer a rebuttal, because despite his brother’s teasing the statement is true. never once had he felt this kind of love for someone — what he had with annie was unprecedented but sacred; a bond that he cherished as the second most important relationship in his life. she didn’t just have him wrapped around her finger, she had him completely infatuated and enamored by her.

“i don’t know what you actin’ all nervous for. you know as soon as you two see each other again it’ll go back to how it used to be.”

smoke sighs, shrugging his shoulders. “it’s been seven years, stack.” he wants to hold onto his brother’s reassurance but he couldn’t shake that nagging feeling of despair that tugged in his chest.

“what, you think she with someone else now?”

smoke’s jaw tensed at the thought of someone touching her body, kissing her lips and making love to her in all the ways he’s been deprived of. “i don’t know…”

stack shakes his head before he’s absentmindedly flicking the remainder of his cigarette onto the ground. “nah. annie was just as much in love with you as you were with her. the shit y’all had ran deep. doesn’t matter how much time passes, you don’t move on from that kind of love.” the tension in smoke’s jaw loosens as he considers stack’s words.

he was right.

their connection was too strong, their history was too deep for it to be discarded so easily like that. annie was always his and he remained devoted to her without any hesitation or regret. and maybe it was selfish for him to expect her to do the same after he abandoned her but he clung onto that belief as he felt his heart rate quicken at the thought of seeing her again.

…

they stop for a drink.

smoke tries to hide his impatience as stack stands at the counter sipping idly on his bottle of beer and trailing his heady gaze behind every woman’s ass that passed by. “how long are we gonna be here?” he questions offhandedly, looking over his shoulder at stack whose attention was distracted by a tall brown skinned woman that had just walked in.

he was eager to see annie again but stack’s interval pitstops were causing a delay in him reaching his destination. stack’s attention thwarts at his brother’s abrasive tone. “damn nigga we just got here! you tryin’ to leave already?”

smoke sighs softly as he extends his hand outwardly. “give me the keys. i’ll come back and get you after i’m done,” he didn’t have time to stand around watching his brother flirt with every woman that walked by. his anxiousness to see annie was accruing by the minute.

“alright, alright.” stack acquiesced as he sat his half empty bottle of beer down onto the counter and reached in pockets to retrieve the car keys. but then he’s pausing, raising his eyebrows in a piqued curiosity as his eyes look over at something across the room. “huh. well if you’re goin’ to see annie you don’t need to look too far…” at this, smoke furrows his brows but then he’s turning around and following stack’s gaze as he juts his chin out to something behind him.

it doesn’t take long for him to find her. even in a crowded room full of people his gaze somehow narrows in on her without hesitation. his breath catches in his throat as he drinks her in — seven years passed but nothing had changed about her. she was still as beautiful as the last time that he saw her and smoke could already feel himself become overwhelmed just by looking at her.

she had a way of doing that; making him flush nervously at the intimidation of her beauty. usually, he held a confident and domineering demeanor that attested to his and stack’s known reputations. but annie was the only one to break through that barrier, the only one that got to witness the softer side of smoke that he reserved solely for her. she managed to prevail where other women had tried (and failed) to develop a connection with him — a connection that ran so deep that it still had him pining after her even after seven years.

smoke’s eyes stared at her, watching as she stood by one of the tables. she was oblivious to his heady gaze and was preoccupied talking to a friend he assumed she had came here with. smoke’s eyes lowered as he appreciatively took in the sight of her; at the fullness of her figure and the slope of curves that accentuated her physique. the dress she wore was cut to where the top of her full breasts were perched highly on top of her chest.

smoke doesn’t even realize how long he’s been staring at her until he feels stack’s hand clasp around his shoulder. “you gone keep starin’ or are you gone go over there and talk to your girl?”

he doesn’t even know if annie was still his girl, but with stack’s encouragement and her friend briefly walking off to talk to someone, smoke uses that as an incentive to finally approach her. and just as he’s about to walk over to where she’s stood, he’s being intercepted by a guy that suddenly steps towards her. smoke pauses, pursing his lips in a scowl as watched annie’s gaze suddenly meet her suitor’s.

a sudden look of surprise stretches across her features, but then it’s being substituted by a small smile that has smoke’s jaw tensing. his eyes remain on them, narrowing further as he watched them seemingly settle into comfortability. it’s the sound of annie’s laughter ricocheting through the room and filling his ears that has smoke brushing off his brother’s clasped hand and beelining his way to annie.

“smoke!” he ignores his brother’s protests as he pushes his way through the crowd of people. annie’s sentence trails off airily when she looks up and sees smoke’s harried approach. she blinks in surprise, turning away from the guy as she breathed him in.

“smoke?”

his heart flutters in that familiar way that it always does whenever he’s around her; at the way his name falls softly off of her lips in a near whisper. and for a moment they’re just standing there staring at each other completely oblivious to the world around them until the guy harrumphs softly and interrupts their moment of intimacy.

smoke cuts his eyes at the guy, glowering as he sized him up. his fingers clench into a fist though he feels the temptation to reach inside of his holster for his gun and shoot him for being in such close proximity to annie.

the guy flits his gaze between them. “uh, you two know each other or something’?” smoke resists the urge of laughing sardonically at the guy’s naive curiosity. but his anger prevailed above all else and he’s stepping in front of annie instead, hindering the guy’s lingering view of her. smoke doesn’t bother hiding the deepening scowl that’s worn on his face or the snarled curl of his upper lip.

“i think you best go find someone else to talk to. cause this one’s taken,” the guy’s eyes widened at smoke’s forewarning. his gaze wander over smoke as looks over at annie with a slight apprehension. “you can’t hear? you best walk away ‘fore you don’t have the chance to walk again!” his hand digs inside of his jacket pocket, reaching for his revolver. at the sight of the gun the guy realizes the depth of smoke’s threat and is hurriedly scurrying away.

smoke lowers his hand, rolling the taut tension out of his jaw before turning around to look at annie again. “did you have to do that? we were just talkin’, smoke.”

he scoffs humorlessly, clicking his tongue against his teeth. “you were talkin’, but he was thinkin’ about all the ways he could bend you over one of these counters and fuck you.” he rebuttals, feeling his anger return at the thought.

he couldn’t help but feel a bit territorial when it came to annie; just like with the guy from before it wasn’t uncommon for men to vie for her attention. and every time he caught someone’s eyes lingering on her for too long, or their smile got a bit too big for his liking, smoke was always there to intercept — immediately terminating the conversation (and their intentions of bedding her.)

this time it’s annie who scoffs as she shakes her head, absentmindedly setting her beer aside. “you’re gone for seven years and now you wanna show up threatenin’ to shoot someone for talkin’ to me?” she walks off, pushing her way through the crowd of people. and like always smoke follows behind her.

she’s about to walk out of the door, but his fingers are haste to grab her by the wrist and pull her into an empty storage room. she tugs her arm free from his grasp so that she’s able to fold her arms against her chest. her eyes shift off to the side, “what you come back for?” he demeanor is closed off but the softness in her voice as she speaks betrays her completely.

“we left capone and came down here to open our own jukejoint. we’re meetin’ the owner later to go see the place,” he says, his eyes hold the weight of her stare as he takes a few preemptive steps towards her. “but i came back for you.” at his confession, annie’s eyes find his again.

she considers his words, nodding her head as she posits, “so after seven years you finally decide to come back for me?” smoke recoils at her rebuttal, sheepishly rubbing his hand against the back of his neck.

“annie,” he murmurs, his voice caught between dejection and begging. “baby, you gotta know it killed me being away from you so long. there ain’t a day that went by that i didn’t think about you. i was damn near miserable without you the only thing that kept me sane was knowin’ that one day i would come back to you again.”

he could see the stoicism behind her resolve slowly falling, but she still holds her guard from where she stood. “a lot can change in seven years, elijah. a lot has changed.”

he nods somberly in agreement. “i know…but what i feel for you ain’t ever changed and i’m hopin’ that it hasn’t changed for you either. cause i love you, annie. my heart ain’t never belonged to anyone but you.” he stands there, holding a bated breath as he looked at her.

“no one else?” she asked with a raised brow. he could hear the implication behind her question and the curiosity that lingers behind it.

“just you. only you.” he promises, immediately denying any suggestiveness that wandered around her mind.

she lowers her arms and her defenses as she confesses, “my feelin’s ain’t changed either.” smoke releases a sigh of relief and is hurriedly decimating the space between them as he approaches her. his hands reach up and cradle her face within his grasp as he leaned his forehead against hers.

his heart lurches against his chest at the closeness of proximity, of him finally being able to touch and hold her again. his eyes hold her stare before slowly lowering to her parted lips. he nudged closer, lingering there almost tentatively. his tongue laps over his lower lip before he whispers, “can i?”

“you ain’t ever have to ask before,” she murmurs, equally as soft and coquettish. his pulse hastens at her permission and he’s immediately leaning forward to capture her lips over his.

smoke brushes their mouths softly, just the barest mesh of lips on lips. it’s timid. kind of chaste and shy and uncertain. but then he’s leaning in again, pressing his lips a bit more firmly against annie’s as he melts into the embrace. he groans throatily against her lips, his hands abandon their perch on her face to slide down to the curve of her hips, tugging her body closer until there’s not a barrier of space left between them.

smoke’s lips chase after hers. their lips are ravenously devouring each others and their kisses are full of their tongues intertwining and saliva being messily transferred from each other’s mouths. and smoke becomes so dizzy into it that his senses become slightly disoriented.

“annie.” he groans breathlessly, momentarily pulling away from the kiss to lull his breathing. smoke opens his eyes as looked down at annie who looked equally as dazed as he felt.

they stare at each other as they stood there with their heaving chests and swollen lips.

their mouths sought after each others again, slowly, feverishly, with smoke’s lips immediately chasing after annie’s like he’s savoring their kisses for memory. she moans at the feeling of his fingers burning against her skin as he holds her and revels at how his thumbs began kneading softly at her flesh.

“thought about your sexy ass for seven years,” he murmurs, voice rasped as he breathed through his parted lips. he hovers his mouth over hers, desperate to keep the contact. “about kissin’ and touchin’ you again. i spent so many nights jerkin’ myself off thinkin’ about you.” his hand slides against the ruffles of her skirt. she feels a shiver roll down her spine at the tease of his fingers against her skin.

he slides his lips over hers in a soft kiss before lowering his mouth to her neck. he nips at her skin; sucking open mouthed kisses against it until it darkens in a bruise.

“couldn’t find someone to entertain you?” she teases, fingers brushing against his neck as she anchored herself.

he shakes his head as he lowers his mouth to the top of her breast. “didn’t want anyone else. just you. always just you.” he looks up at her, watching as she bites on her lower lip. his fingers skim against her blouse before he’s gently tugging it down.

annie’s wide eyes wander towards the door. “there’s people outside,” she whispers in a half reprimand, though she makes no attempts to stop him from undressing her.

smoke pulls at her blouse and avidly slips the straps of her bra down her shoulders until she’s standing topless. “i don’t give a damn,” he murmurs, palming her left breast with his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

annie’s head lolls back in pleasure, eyes flutter softly at the tease of his thumb caressing her nipples. “i know but if someone walks in—” a broken gasp cuts her off mid-sentence; her attention’s distracted and everything else easily becomes disregarded from her mind except for the way smoke’s lips pucker around her right nipple. he tugs at the sensitive flesh with his teeth, then soothes his tongue over it with a gentle lap.

“oh, fuck.” she moans at his dexterity and how his mouth and hands work in tandem on her breasts. his cock swells in its girth at the sound of her crooning noises; already straining and painfully curling against his thigh.

he rolls her other nipple against his fingers, loosening his lips from around her breast with a wet and resounding ‘pop’. he kisses her filthily, sliding his tongue within hers and swallowing the sounds of her moans.

“need you, baby.” smoke says against her kiss-swollen lips as he rolled his hips into hers, allowing her to feel the evidence of his growing arousal. his body was shaking at the thought of being inside of her again.

and all is takes is annie’s gentle nod and soft murmur of ‘okay’ that has him hurriedly tugging at her clothing. their mouths meet in another bruising kiss as smoke maneuvered them towards the stack of boxes that were perched in the corner of the room. his hands were already stripping her down of her clothes, reaching underneath her skirt to pull at her bloomers.

“smoke,” annie whimpers as he momentarily retracts from the kiss and lowered to his knees just enough to tug her bloomers all the way down her legs. he stands fully upright again, crowding and gently pushing her back until she’s leaned against the stack of boxes.

a prolonged moan falls from her lips when his forefinger and middle finger curl and spread her lips open invitingly; easily slipping through her slickness.

“fuck, baby.” wetness immediately drenches his fingers. the sweet smell of her arousal seeps in his nostrils.

smoke’s thick and dexterous fingers moved gingerly inside of her, puckering in and out as he twisted his wrist and curled his fingers deeper inside of her. she’s already close. he can tell by the way her cunt clenched tightly around his fingers and how she’s gripping his shirt in her hands. “seven years apart and this pussy still gets wet for me.” smoke draws his fingers deeper, inflicting her with these sensations that have her breathless and shaking.

it’s not long before he feels her arousal squeezing out of her. annie moans heavily, feeling the aftershocks still tingling through her body after her release.

when she comes to, she grabs smoke by the by neck and pulls his mouth back to hers for a kiss, heeding him with the same fervor he’d incited at first. “i want you inside of me.” she murmurs, it’s so visceral and unabashed when she says it that it makes smoke’s cock stir.

he nods, crouching down a bit to lift her onto the stack of boxes. he shifts her legs around his body until he’s standing in between her legs. annie moans softly, her curly eyelashes flutter in content as smoke reaches underneath her skirt and firms a grip on her butt.

he roughly squeezes each of her cheeks, bringing her closer against him and teasingly thrusting his hips forward, allowing her to feel the swollen erection that was hotly pressed against his thigh. a broken moan fell from her lips again, hitching just in the apex of her throat. her cunt quivers at the contact, desperate to feel it again. “smoke,” she rasps; her throat heavy, voice too breathy to form any coherent words at the moment.

he could feel his lips going numb, lungs burning desperately, begging them to part for air. but he ignored it and continued to kiss her perfectly succulent lips, nipping and tugging at the plush skin as a litany of moans rang out of her. he tugs at the zipper of his pants, feeling them loosen around his hips. he shoved them down until they’re in a pool around his ankles, no longer restricting his movements.

he pulls annie’s skirt up until it’s bunched up around her hips.

he leans forward, placing one hand on the box while the other wrapped around her waist pulling her closer. they shudder in tandem when his cock teases her slit. they kiss again. slowly, softly, unhurried as smoke grabs hold of his cock and aligns it at her swollen center.

her eyes roll to the back of her head, stomach tightens in recoil when his tip spreads her slicked lips open. he clefts her slowly, disappearing inside of her inch by inch.

his girth is thick as he stretches inside of her; it’s an easy accommodation as he passes through the wetness of her labia, teasing the tip of his cock at the hilt of her vulva. she whimpers, biting on her bottom lip at the delicious burn of his intrusion.

he murmurs in a curse, looking down as he watched himself stretch her. she’s so tight and warm around him that it nearly makes him cum at the feeling of her cunt swallowing around him. his breathing’s rugged as he shifted his hips downward a bit so that their pelvis are perfectly aligned. smoke continues his feat until he’s curled at her hilt with her seated at his base. he’s hung, even when he’s pushed himself so far inside of her cunt that he’s nearly pressed into her belly, there’s still inches of him too big to stretch further inside of her.

he shivers, throat clicks at the gentle flutter she warps around him. “yeah?” he inquired as he gave her a moment of adjustment. she doesn’t respond verbally, only incites a grinding hip thrust forward that catches him by surprise. he swallows, muttering a heh. smoke reciprocates her hip thrust, emphasizing the rotation of his hips as he retracted and filled her in a steady pace.

he balances his weight on the balls of his feet as he filled her deeply. her being on the box gives them a bit of an imbalance but he widens his stance and barred her legs tighter around his waist as he holds her against him.

their chests heaved heavily, bodies shivered at the delicious feeling of his cock being nestled deeply inside of her. his eyes narrowed, a line of sweat beads his brow, hands slightly trembled as he glanced down and enthralled at the sight of his cock pistoning inside of annie, easing ever so gently inside of her.

“fuck,” she whimpers, her head tossing backwards, mouth falling open.

she swirled her hips forward, slowly, teasingly, lifting herself off of the box just enough so that her cunt’s catching his cock every time he withdraws. smoke groans and his shaking hands instantly firmed a hard grip on her waist. he recited his own thrust, lurching his hips forward with a shallow rut and lingered against her.

it’s a catch and release of him stretching her until he’s caught at her hilt and he’s left with no choice but to withdraw with a delicious tug in his wake. annie hikes her legs up further, pulling them up until they rested around his waist eliciting a sharper and deeper change in his stroke.

she pulls his mouth to hers and lazily thrusts her tongue into the wetness of his wanton mouth. she bites down on his lips when she feels her toes curl. they could hear voices drawing nearer towards the outside of the door threatening to ruin their moment of intimacy and annie’s heft on the box was starting to scratch roughly beneath her ass.

but the pressure of his cock brushing against her clit every time he rolls his hips had her disregard the chafing friction and the possibility of an intruder.

the muscles in her legs stretch, right on the precipice of pain as her pussy suctions him in deeper. their heavy breaths mingle and she chokes back a sob once she feels the precipice of her orgasm creeping up on her.

tears gather in the back of her pupils, her stomach coils in pleasure and her bottom lip trembles when he grabs her by the ass and shoved her down on his cock until he’s fully bottoming her out where she nearly feels him in her belly and fucks her. he thrusts into her deliberately slow but still draws out his strokes to where she still feels him inside of her even when he pulls out.

she whines high and loud, unable to constrain the noises of her pleasure anymore and quietly hoped that the music from outside is loud enough to drown out her sounds. (but it feels so good that part of her doesn’t even care if it didn’t.) “c’mon baby,” smoke says through trembling breaths, the languorous movements of his thrusts reveal the closeness of his own orgasm. “i feel you squeezin’ around me. cum for me. let me feel you,”

he kisses her cheek as he rolls his hips up into hers. it’s a tug and pull of her cunt clenching around him as he penetrates her. “i love you,” he murmurs, clouded by the pleasure of her.

his body stiffens, stomach clenches as he feels his orgasm nearing its precipice. he hastens his thrusts, fucking into her with abandon. annie whimpers turn into soft moans that she emanates in his ears, her hands grip at his forearm and he feels her cunt clench so hard around him that he bellows out a whimper.

she cums first and it’s so big that she finds herself squirting out her release. her body’s spasming as she lulls down from her orgasm. smoke’s not too far behind, a string of curses fall off of his lips as he feels his cock lurch in forewarning. he continued to rut inside of her as he rode her through her orgasm, milking her completely dry until she goes boneless. his hips jerk and it’s not soon before he’s filling her up with his own warmth.

his breath is hot against her skin as he huffs raggedly against her neck. “fuck.” he groans, pulling himself out as he softens.

they looked a mess — their clothes were skewed, his pants were shoved around his ankles, her breasts spilled out over the top of her shirt. she brushes a hand over his neck, feeling him tremble beneath her touch. “i missed you too. i worried about you every day that you were gone, even though i knew you were safe.” she confesses, bringing her fingers up to touch the string of the mojo bag that he was wearing around his neck.

he pulls away from the embrace to look at her. his hand wraps around hers, giving it a soft squeeze before he turns his head and kisses her palm. “you kept me safe. this bag and thinkin’ about you and our daughter,” his voice trembles a bit at the mention of her, but he persevered through it. “it kept me goin’.”

she nods, blinking through the fogginess of her vision as her pupils lined with tears. her hand releases the bag, now sliding down until her hand is rested over his heart. “i knew you would come back. i just wish it was sooner,”

“i know,” he concurs with a somber nod. “but i’m back now and you don’t gotta worry about me leavin’ you ever again.” he promises, reaching his hand up to cradle her face. she leans into his touch, exhaling a soft sigh as she nods her head.

she’s quiet for a moment. then, “i love you, too.” she says, reciting his earlier words. the heaviness of the sentiment has his chest tightening and a smile pulling at his lips.

he kisses her soft and sweet, letting his mouth linger against hers. “c’mon, we gotta get back out there before someone walks in on us,” annie says in between lighthearted giggles as smoke presses soft pecks over her lips and face.

“i told you i don’t give a damn who walks in. i plan on makin’ up for these seven years we were apart!” smoke slides his hand upward, brushing his thumb over the sinuous crease of skin that dipped at her waist. air catches in her throat when his hand finds comfort between her inner thighs.

brushing through a few curly hairs he finds down there, he gently puckered a finger inside of her; feeling an immediate warmth and wetness shroud him. she breathes softly and nudges her hips forward, nonverbally telling him to insert another.

he presses his finger against her clitoris, teasing ministrations against her sensitive flesh. she thrusts her hips feverishly against the callus padding of his nimble fingers, stretching her thighs wider, giving him a better view of her swollen cunt. he watches avidly as he pushes his fingers in and out of her in a fluid motion, watches as her slick gathers on his fingers with every thrust. “elijah,” she keened, his name is the only tangible thing that rolls off of her tongue.

he could already feel her swelling around his fingers, could feel her thighs clamping down on him when he flicked his wrist and curled his fingers deeper. “that’s it baby,” he purrs huskily in her ears, pressing a gentle kiss against her temple as he increased his efforts.

annie’s mind is hazy, thighs were quivering relentlessly beneath her, stretching just so on the precipice of pain. blood gathers in smoke’s cock again as he enthralls at her face that contorts in pleasure, and he’s painstakingly rigid, curled against his thigh, ready to be nestled inside of her again.

#yaaayyy!!! can’t wait to read!#sinners!#other writers #annie x smoke

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jarfulloftears · 2 months ago

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Sinners fic writers - has anyone written anything about how Annie and Smoke met/the beginning of their relationship? I'm going through withdrawals and neeeeeed more of their lore

#STREETS NEED DAT!!#sinners!

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jarfulloftears · 2 months ago

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A Dance with the Devil

*No spoilers. It takes place before the brothers return to Mississippi

pairing: Elias “Stack” Moore x Black!OC

sumary: Lena Pearl, a waitress in Al Capone's world, confronts Elias "Stack" Moore, a man caught in the same violent life she tries to escape. As tensions rise, they both face the uncomfortable truth about their shared darkness. Their connection is undeniable, but will it be their salvation—or their undoing?

warmings: angust, mention of death, internal conflicts, survival and violence. English is not my first language.

word count: 4,7K

The Green Mill - Chicago, 1929

The cutting Chicago wind was no match for the heat emanating from the basement beneath the old barbershop. Lena Pearl adjusted her string of fake pearls as she descended the wooden stairs that creaked under her careful steps. Her emerald-green dress – simple enough not to draw attention on the streets, yet elegant enough for the job – reflected the yellowish glow of the strategically placed lamps around the lounge.

"The princess has arrived," murmured Big Joe, the security guard stationed at the inner door. He was one of the few men Lena allowed to speak to her that way.

"Mr. Capone asked for you three times today."

Lena just nodded, without revealing the weight those words carried. Working for Al Capone was like dancing constantly on the edge of a cliff – dangerous, but impossible to walk away from. There was a strange vertigo in that routine, as if she lived suspended between the urge to disappear and the need to keep being seen.

The Green Mill was buzzing despite it being only Tuesday.

The economic crisis that ravaged the country seemed only to intensify people’s thirst. The saxophone wept on the small improvised stage while white men in expensive suits mingled with South Side workers – all equal in their pursuit of the oblivion only forbidden alcohol could provide. It was ironic – the deeper the country sank, the more vibrant that basement became as a refuge for broken lives.

"Bourbon for table three and a double whiskey for the man with the hat in the corner," said Gina, another waitress, hurrying by. "Oh, and watch out for that new guy. Stack, I think. He’s been watching you since you walked in."

Lena discreetly lifted her gaze toward the indicated direction. In the shadows, partially hidden by the haze of cigarette smoke, a Black man in a dark gray suit stared at her without disguising it. There was something in his eyes – not the usual lust or curiosity Lena was used to ignoring. It was as if he recognized her from somewhere impossible, from a life she had never lived.

She looked back. For the first time in a long while, Lena allowed herself to hold someone’s gaze. There was a restlessness sneaking under her skin – recognition, maybe? Or just loneliness? Elias “Stack” Moore wasn’t just a new man at the bar. He was a living question mark, a reminder that she could still be moved by something other than fear or cynicism.

As she served the tables, she felt the weight of that gaze on her back.

For the first time in ages, Lena felt the loneliness she carried like a second skin. Among so many, she was always alone – it was what kept her safe, what kept her alive in a world where women like her served only temporary, limited purposes. And now, there was a man who seemed to see beyond the role she performed every night.

"Miss Pearl." The deep, controlled voice surprised her as she turned from a freshly attended table. Elias was there, too close, too real. "Allow me to introduce myself, Stack."

"I know who you are," she replied, offering neither a hand nor a welcome. "And I’m working, Jack."

"Stack," he corrected, with a restrained smile. "Just wanted to say Mr. Capone speaks very highly of you. Says you’re the only honest person in the entire place."

Lena couldn’t suppress a half-laugh. “Mr. Capone has an interesting concept of honesty.”

“Maybe,” Stack stepped aside, allowing her to pass – a rare gesture of respect in that place. “But I’ve learned to trust his judgment when it comes to people.”

Before Lena could reply, the back door burst open violently. Two men in overcoats entered, followed by a blast of cold wind. One of them – short, round-faced, and wearing a dangerous smile – was unmistakable. Al Capone removed his hat, revealing his scarred face, and his eyes immediately found Lena.

“Pearl!” he called out, ignoring the bows and greetings around him. “Bring me my whiskey. The special one.”

Stack watched the subtle transformation in Lena, how her shoulders adjusted, how her expression closed off even more, how she became both more present and more absent at once. To him, it was like watching a butterfly retreat into its cocoon at the first sign of threat.

As she walked away, Stack felt a strange pang. Who was that woman, really? Why did she seem so profoundly alone, even in a crowded room? And why was he, a man used to staring death in the eyes – so unsettled by a simple waitress?

“Always on time, Mr. Capone,” she replied with rehearsed formality, already heading to the bar to fetch the bottle kept especially for the boss.

Elias watched her go, realizing in that instant what Big Joe had hinted at earlier. There was something about Lena Pearl that set her apart, not just her undeniable beauty or the dignified posture she maintained in a world that constantly tried to shrink her. It was something deeper, a quiet resistance that seemed to say:

“I’m here, but I don’t belong to this place. I never will.”

Lena returned with the special bottle of Scotch whisky – smuggled in recently from Canada, on a shipment that had cost three men their lives the week before, though no one spoke of it. She carried it on a silver tray, along with a single crystal glass. At Capone’s table, the men fell silent as she approached.

“Here it is, sir,” she said, placing the tray on the table and pouring the first drink with the precision of someone who knew exactly how much pleased him.

“Thank you, Pearl.” Capone looked up, his eyes lingering on her face for just a little too long. “I missed you last night.”

In the background, the piano began a melancholic melody, blues notes weaving through muffled conversations and thick smoke. The saxophonist – a middle-aged Black man with eyes that looked like they’d seen hell – joined in with a wail that made the hairs on the back of Lena’s neck stand on end.

“I wasn’t feeling well, sir. My apologies.”

Capone nodded slowly, not believing her, but willing to accept the lie – for now. He looked at her like a man who believes he owns everything he sees. And Stack saw it. He also saw the pride in Lena as she masked her contempt behind flawless professionalism. That was resistance in its purest form. And beauty. And pain.

Capone’s gaze drifted past her shoulder, noticing Stack watching the scene quietly.

“Stack!” Capone called, his voice shifting suddenly to a louder, more expansive tone. “Come meet the Green Mill’s crown jewel.”

Elias hesitated for just a second before approaching the table – but that brief pause seemed to stretch, as if he were deciding whether to dive or retreat from the edge of a cliff. His eyes met Lena’s, and in that brief exchange, there wasn’t just tension – there was memory. Not real, but instinctive. As if they recognized in each other something long forgotten, a shared pain disguised as strength.

“Mr. Capone,” Stack greeted with a nod. “We’ve already met.”

Capone raised his eyebrows, a smile with more teeth than joy. It was the kind of smile that served as a warning.

“Have you?” he asked. “My Pearl’s charmed you too? She has that effect on men.” He laughed, but the sound held no warmth – it was just noise, like ice cracking. “But she’s different. Not like the other girls around here.”

Lena remained still, like a painting of herself. Her face was neutral, expressionless, but her clenched jaw betrayed the tension underneath. Stack noticed and understood. Capone’s words, though wrapped in charm, were fences. A territorial warning.

“I can see that,” Stack replied, his voice even, but not his eyes. His eyes said something else. They said he truly saw Lena. “Some people carry their own light. Even in the dark.”

The saxophone, almost as if conspiring with the moment, let out a sharp note – nearly a wail. The music captured what words couldn’t: That something there was on the verge of breaking.

Capone took a sip of his whiskey, his eyes following Stack with measured interest. “Stack did us a big favor last night,” he said, his tone taking on a more performative flair.

“That issue with the Irish on the North Side? Taken care of.”

Lena’s stomach tightened at the violence in the memory. That morning’s newspaper headline returned like a punch:

Two bodies floating in the river,

Enough bullets to erase names, stories, families.

Now reduced to mere statistics – and silence.

“Stack has a steady hand,” Capone continued, his pride laced with provocation. “Not like those amateurs who make a lot of noise and do little else.”

Elias kept his expression unreadable, but his eyes sought Lena’s – for just a second too long. And she saw it. There was something there – a tremor, perhaps regret, or the shadow of doubt. Not something that could be said out loud. But it was there.

“I just did what needed to be done,” Stack replied. There was weight in his words and emptiness too. Like a man used to digging holes inside himself.

Capone laughed loudly, slapping the table with delight. “Modest! I like that in a man. Makes doing business easier.”

Then he turned to Lena with that look – the one that always reminded her of her place.

“Pearl, bring us another bottle. I want to properly celebrate Mr. Moore’s success.”

"Yes, sir," she repeated. But her thoughts remained tangled in the truth she couldn’t ignore.

Stack was like the others. A killer. A man who took lives for money, for loyalty to Capone, or for any excuse that helped him sleep through the night. And still… he had looked at her as if she were whole – as if both of them might find some kind of salvation in each other’s eyes. That hurt more than any lie. Because Lena didn’t want to feel that. She couldn’t afford to.

The music seemed to change, as if the room itself could hear her thoughts. It grew heavier, more oppressive.The bass throbbed like a broken heart, while the saxophone cried notes that clawed through the air, sharp with regret.

“Pearl?” Capone’s voice pulled her back. “The bottle?”

“Yes, sir. Sorry.”

Lena turned toward the storeroom where the special bottles were kept, suddenly suffocated by the heat and smoke in the room. She needed air, space to think. To process the disappointment she wasn’t supposed to feel – Because what had she expected? That in this nest of vipers, one man might be different?

“Stack, go with her,” Capone ordered, voice casual, but his eyes calculating. “Show her which bottles we brought back from the Jefferson Park stash.”

Stack nodded and followed Lena, keeping a respectful distance as they moved through the crowded room. The singer had taken the stage now, her husky voice rising above the instruments, singing a blues made famous by Ma Rainey:

“Trust no man, no further than your eyes can see… Trust no man, no further than your eyes can see… For a man’s got a heart full of jealousy...”

The lyrics hit like a warning, a painful truth that echoed in Lena’s ears as she walked, hyper-aware of Stack’s footsteps behind her. Every syllable a sting. Every note a reminder.

When they finally reached the hallway that led to the storeroom – away from Capone’s watchful eyes and his men – Lena stopped abruptly and turned to face Stack. There was fire in her eyes. But it wasn’t just anger. It was fear too. Of him. Of herself. Of all of it.

“The Irish,” she said, her voice low but laced with something trembling between disgust and necessity. “Was it you?”

Stack glanced around, making sure they were alone before answering. His eyes returned to her with the same intensity as before but now, there was a thread of exhaustion in them.

“Is that what matters to you?” he asked, his voice lower than usual. “Or is it just something to help you keep your distance?”

“Don’t answer a question with another question,” Lena snapped, anger rising in her like a rising tide. “Two families lost their sons yesterday. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

Stack stepped closer – still composed, but his eyes betrayed a storm beneath. “Those men tried to kill three of ours last week. They were planning to raid this place tomorrow night.”

“Ours?” Lena let out a bitter laugh, but it came out like a blade. “So you're one of them now.”

“I don’t consider myself anything but what I am,” Stack replied, voice quieter now, as if speaking from the bottom of a well.“A man trying to survive in a city that only gives people like us certain paths.”

The music from the club reached them like a whisper, the blues seeping through the walls like the heartbeat of a wounded creature. It echoed everything they weren’t ready to say.

“And what path is that?” Lena asked, barely breathing.

“Killing for money? Doing the dirty work for men like Capone?”

“And what’s your path, Lena?” Stack shot back, eyes burning. “Pouring drinks for men who look at you like you’re for sale? Smiling while dying a little more inside every night? Pretending you don’t see the bodies being dragged out the back?”

Lena blinked, as if his words were wind throwing dust into open wounds. He was right and that hurt more than any lie.

"At least I don’t pull the trigger," she said, steady on the outside, but wavering within. Because she knew – even without blood on her hands, she was still part of that theater of horror.

"No," Stack murmured, his tone now more sorrowful than accusatory. "You just serve the drink that celebrates after the trigger’s been pulled."

The silence that settled between them was thicker than the stifling air of the corridor. It wasn’t just silence – it was the weight of everything they felt, and everything they wanted to deny.

The music outside seemed to swell, as if the saxophone understood the gravity of that moment. A melodic lament, like a warning that what was being said couldn’t be taken back.

"We need to get that bottle," Lena said finally, her voice slipping back into a practical tone. "Capone’s waiting."

"Capone’s always waiting," Stack muttered, more to himself than to her. "The question is: how long are we going to keep doing what he expects?"

Lena didn’t respond. The question echoed inside her like a prophecy. Then she turned and continued down the hall toward the storage room, her footsteps blending with the muffled rhythm of the blues that followed them like a ghost through the dimly lit corridor.

When they reached the door, Stack reached out and gently took her arm. It wasn’t force – it was an anchor.

"Lena," he said, a vulnerability trembling beneath the surface of his voice, "we’re not as different as you want to believe."

She looked at his hand on her arm, then up at his face. And what she saw there – honesty, doubt, fear – scared her more than any threat ever could. Because it was real. Because she was on the verge of believing it, too.

"That’s what scares me," she whispered, almost regretfully. And then she opened the door.

Stack followed her inside. He closed the door slowly, like someone closing a confessional. The sound of music became even more muffled.

The pantry was a narrow cubicle, barely larger than a closet. Shelves of worm-eaten wood supported rows of carefully organized bottles–some with legitimate labels, others with homemade seals, all containing the forbidden elixir that kept Chicago running like a drunken clock. The only light came from a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling, swaying gently, casting dancing shadows on the exposed brick walls.

Stack adjusted the red handkerchief in the breast pocket of his pinstripe suit–a touch of color in a man who seemed made of shadows and restraint. His presence there, in the tight space, was like an eclipse; he occupied no more physical space than necessary, but his aura filled the environment. He was the type of man who had learned to make the minimum seem impossible to ignore.

“Third shelf, second row,” he murmured, approaching Lena from behind. It was strange how he seemed to know the place better than she did, each word measured like expensive whiskey–warm, direct, impossible to forget. “The whiskey came from a shipment we received yesterday. Legitimate Scotch. A man died for it.”

“Just one?” Lena asked bitterly, stretching to reach the bottle. The movement drew attention to the scar on her right wrist, a thin, whitish line that extended across her exposed skin. Her sleeveless dress left her arms completely bare, revealing not only the scar but also the delicate strength of her shoulders.

Stack noticed, but didn’t comment. In his world, every scar had a story someone preferred to forget. He knew that kind of silence well.

“I like to know who I’m dealing with,” he said, his voice low like a confessional. “And so do you, right? That’s why you asked about the Irish.”

Lena reached for the bottle, her slender fingers closing around the amber glass. The liquid inside shimmered under the precarious light like melted gold. Gold with the taste of blood.

“I just want to know what kind of man I’m trapped in a pantry with,” she replied, without turning. “Self-preservation.”

Stack almost smiled. There was something in her calculated coldness that fascinated him–perhaps because it sounded exactly like the lies he told himself every morning when he woke up.

“You asked me if I pulled the trigger,” he said, advancing a step. The space was so tight that the heat from his body reached her back. “You want to know if I’m a killer or a man with principles?”

“Is there a difference in this place?” She finally turned, the bottle between them like a fragile barrier.

The proximity was dangerous. There, in the yellowish light, Lena could see the golden grillz that adorned his teeth, gleaming discreetly when he spoke, the way a vein pulsed almost imperceptibly at his temple, the texture of skin marked by years under the merciless sun. Too many human details for a man who should be just another customer, just another danger to avoid.

“In 1917, I enlisted in the 369th Infantry Regiment,” Stack said, his voice suddenly distant, as if he were reciting facts about someone else. “Harlem’s ‘Hellfighters,’ that’s what they called us. I spent 191 days on the front, without rest, without replacement. More than any other American unit.”

Lena wasn’t expecting a confession. Not there, not now. The entire Green Mill was waiting for them to return with a bottle of whiskey, not with war secrets.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I want you to understand,” he said, his eyes meeting hers with uncomfortable intensity. “I wasn’t a violent man before the war. Afterward… afterward, violence began to make sense. Something about surviving changes the way you see the world.”

The smell of old wood mixed with the subtle aroma of whiskey filled the air between them. Outside, muffled by the thick walls, the piano melody continued, an ironic soundtrack for that confession no one had asked for.

“The Irish were armed,” he continued, something trembling beneath the surface of his words. “They were going to kill everyone at the Miller’s Club on 35th Street. There were women there. Children in the back. Employees’ children.”

Lena felt a shiver run down her spine. Stack wasn’t justifying himself. He was sharing a burden with someone he sensed might understand. The burden of impossible choices.

“I’m no better than you, Lena. I’m no worse. We’re just two survivors caught in Capone’s web, trying not to be devoured.”

The light flickered for a moment, as if the building’s electricity felt the weight of that conversation. In the brief moment of dimness, both their faces seemed more vulnerable, stripped of the masks they wore in the hall.

“Your eyes recognized me when I entered that room,” Stack murmured, his voice now almost a caress. “Why?”

The question caught her off guard. It was true–something about him had awakened an instinctive recognition, like an echo from another life. Was it the way he carried his own pain without ostentation? Or perhaps it was just the loneliness she recognized, so similar to her own?

“I know your type,” Lena replied, trying to rebuild the wall he was, without realizing, tearing down. “Men who think they can save the world, or at least themselves, by working for the devil.”

Stack’s lips curved into an almost imperceptible smile–that rare smile Gina had mentioned, like the sun breaking through at the end of a cloudy day. It lasted only a second, but it was enough to completely transform his austere face, revealing the man behind the legend that Chicago was already building around him.

“And you?” he asked, leaning slightly. The space between them diminished with each breath. The perfectly adjusted tie at his neck seemed a contradiction to the controlled intensity in his eyes. “What do you think you’re saving by working here?”

She could feel the warmth of his breath–whiskey and cigarettes, but also something cleaner, like mint. A man who arrived without making noise, who made entire rooms fall silent by instinct, but who cared about insignificant details like his own breath, even in a world of chaos. This disturbed her more than any threat.

“I’m saving the only thing I have left,” she answered with a honesty that surprised her. “The illusion that I still have a choice.”

Stack raised his hand, hesitant. For an instant, Lena thought he would touch her face – a gesture she wouldn’t know how to receive. But he only adjusted a lock of hair that had escaped her careful hairdo, his finger lightly brushing the skin of her temple.

“We all have choices, Lena,” he said, his deep voice carrying the weight of a thousand regrets. “They’re just not the choices we’d like to have.”

The distant sound of breaking glass in the hall brought them back to reality. The world outside continued its course, indifferent to the secrets exchanged in the small pantry.

“Capone is waiting,” said Lena, resuming her professional posture like someone putting on armor.

Stack nodded, taking a step back. The space between them expanded again, but something had changed in the air. An invisible bridge had been built–fragile, perhaps temporary, but undeniably real.

“You know what the hardest part of the war was?” he asked, as she turned to leave. “It wasn’t the combat, the bodies, not even the constant fear. It was coming home and discovering there was no more home. That the place we return to is never the same as the one we left.”

Lena stopped with her hand on the doorknob. Her back was to him, but Stack could see the tension in her shoulders, the rigidity that betrayed that his words had reached some deep place.

“You know that feeling, don’t you?” he insisted. “Of belonging to a place that no longer exists.”

Lena closed her eyes for a brief moment. Images of a simple house in New Orleans, the smell of jambalaya on the stove, laughter of children playing in the yard. A world that had collapsed so long ago that sometimes it seemed to have been only a particularly vivid dream.

“We’re taking too long,” she said, her firm voice contradicting the tremor in her hands. “And that’s dangerous for both of us.”

When she turned, bottle in hand, her eyes avoided his. Stack understood the retreat. He knew that dance too well–the cautious approach, the mutual recognition, and then the strategic withdrawal. It was the only way to survive when you carried more scars inside than out.

“What do you think Capone is really celebrating with this whiskey?” he asked, deliberately changing the tone of the conversation, offering her the exit she silently requested.

“Something none of us wants to know,” replied Lena, grateful for the change. “Ignorance is sometimes the only protection we have.”

Stack held the door for her – an anachronistic gesture of chivalry that seemed almost comical in that setting of criminality and survival. But Lena noticed how he positioned himself strategically, so that he would be the first to enter the dark corridor. Protection, not courtesy. The difference mattered.

As they walked back through the corridor, the sound of jazz grew progressively, like a tide rising to engulf them. The smell of sweat and cheap perfume mixed with tobacco announced their return to the real world– a world of masks and well-rehearsed roles.

“I know you don’t trust me,” murmured Stack, leaning slightly so that only she could hear. “And you’re right. But if you ever need help…”

“I won’t,” Lena cut in, but without the coldness from before. There was something almost like gratitude in her tone.

When they were about to emerge back into the hall, Stack stopped abruptly. Lena almost collided with his broad back.

“What is it?” she asked, alarmed.

“I saw something in the back of the storage room,” he replied, his voice suddenly tense. “Boxes that shouldn’t be there. With military markings.”

Lena felt a chill. Weapons. They could only be weapons. Capone was planning something bigger than the usual territorial disputes.

“Forget what you saw,” she whispered urgently. “For your own good.”

Stack stared at her, the dim light of the corridor creating shadows on his angular face. “Is that what you do? Forget what you see?”

The question hit Lena like a slap. For a moment, the air between them seemed too heavy to breathe.

“I survive,” she finally responded. “It’s what we all do.”

The music in the hall changed to something more lively, as if mocking the tension between them. A loud, fake laugh from Capone crossed the stuffy air, a timely reminder of what awaited them.

Stack held her arm gently, his warm fingers against her cold skin. “There’s a difference between surviving and living, Lena. At some point, we’ll have to choose.”

Before she could respond, he released her and went ahead, emerging into the golden light of the hall like a man without weight on his shoulders, his face already wearing the mask of efficiency that Capone appreciated.

Lena breathed deeply and followed him, the bottle of whiskey in her hands weighing like lead. As she approached Capone’s table, where Stack had already resumed his place, she realized something disturbing–for the first time in years, she felt fear. Not the familiar fear of Capone, of violence or poverty.

It was the fear of possibilities. The fear that perhaps, just perhaps, there were more paths than she had allowed herself to see.

When she placed the bottle before Capone, her eyes briefly crossed with Stack’s. In that silent look, there was an unspoken promise–or perhaps a warning. His eyes, which normally seemed always distant, trapped in a past he never talked about, were now firmly anchored in the present. In Lena. In possibilities too dangerous to name.

“Stack!” Capone’s voice cut through the air. “Where’s your brother tonight? We need the best for tomorrow’s job.”

“Smoke is taking care of that business in the South Side,” Stack replied, his voice returning to its usual formality. “He’ll be here early tomorrow.”

Lena noticed how Stack transformed near Capone–every movement calculated, every expression a perfect mask. It was as if he stacked layers of protection between his true self and the world. Stack. The man who always had something stacked: money, marked cards, too many secrets.

The future was as uncertain as Chicago on a foggy night. But one thing was certain: that meeting in the pantry had planted a seed of doubt that, like the weeds in the city’s abandoned lots, would be difficult to eradicate.

And as Capone raised his glass in a toast, celebrating some bloody victory, Lena knew that something had changed inside her–something silent, dangerous, and irreversible like the tick-tock of a time bomb hidden in the city’s basements.

Nobody knew for sure where Stack had come from, only that he appeared in Chicago–along with his brother–on a night of heavy rain, with a worn suitcase and a look that said he had left more than memories behind. Now, Lena wondered what else he hid behind that gaze which, for a brief moment in the pantry, had lowered its guard only for her.

Heyyyyyyyy,

There's no tag list, I just had to launch something that was burning in my mind as soon as I left the cinema. Feel free to show your love. Until next time 🥹❤️

#other writers #sinners!#stackxblack!oc

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jarfulloftears · 3 months ago

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jarfulloftears · 3 months ago

Text

Calling All Writers!

“Black Girls’ Story Lab” is a community i created on tumblr for us black writers to have a space to talk all things fanfiction and writing!

the community is private and is invitation only. if you want to be added then just reply and i’ll invite you. also, let me know if you want to be a moderator.

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jarfulloftears · 4 months ago

Text

Fall Break

Summary: When Asia's in need of a few lessons regarding matters of the bedroom, her colleague and friend, Kelvin, offers his expertise.

Pairing: Kelvin Harrison Jr. x Black!OC

Warnings: Mature Content (18+)

Word Count: 4.9k

MASTERLIST

Chicago wasn't half bad. Asia had to concede that fact as Kelvin filmed the journey into the city from the airport on his cellphone.

Despite the disorienting mind-fuck that was O'Hare, the mishmash of old comforts and new charm glistening under a fresh downpour drew her in more than she cared to admit. She saw the appeal. It didn't make losing her man to the Midwest feel any better than the days before, though. They could visit anytime. She didn't want him to stay.

She put on a brave face and an appeasing smile during dinner at a so-so downtown Chinese and Thai spot, listening to Kelvin rant and rave about his new team while pieces of her heart withered and died inside.

Asia held on to him a little tighter as they walked through the streets like tourists in search of cheap drinks to celebrate nothing in particular. One shot turned into three and a cocktail. Then, two more shots a piece and a secret third shot Asia snuck with Kelvin dipped off to relieve himself in the restroom. Just something to take the edge off. She promised herself she wouldn't get too drunk and start crying. But, as reality set in and Chicago became less of a fun pre-Valentine's vacation and more of a concrete reality, she couldn't help the tears welling up in her eyes once they'd called it a night and snuggled into bed together.

Unable to cry, scream, or otherwise, Asia took the next best outlet: fucking. She knew it was wrong to hide her pain behind the ruse of wanting intimacy from a man more than willing to give it to her. She wanted to change her mind and almost had an out when she called Kelvin's name and startled him awake. He took Asia's apology in stride and pressed for answers until he was buried deep in her heat from behind, spooning like both their lives depended on it.

Good, but not enough. Not until Asia was numb and so drunk on physical intimacy that she couldn't think straight. Perched on his face, she bucked her hips erratically to get the last drops of frustration out of her body by way of Kelvin's tongue.

He held on tight with long fingers gripping soft flesh on both ass cheeks for dear life while he watched Asia fondle her own nipples, searching for her third orgasm. A woman possessed. He loved it. He'd drink her in until the sun came up just to see the face she made when the pressure in her belly was too much to contain.

Groaning, Asia slumped forward to look down at Kelvin, lapping at her with a face covered in his reward. "I love it when you eat me like that, baby," she demanded, her voice raspy and thick with sleep. "Look at you. So fuckin' nasty for me. You gone make me cum?"

"Mhmm." More a moan than a response. And, even as he grew more excited from the mere sniff of the gold mine between her legs, Kelvin wasn't sure if he could go too much longer without a break.

Reaching between her legs, he slid two fingers into her pussy, never slacking on his tongue's rhythm. A desperate mewl from deep within Asia's throat cut through the pitch-black room. Her thoughts became static as she felt the familiar tightening of release wind in her abdomen.

"Oh…fuck," Asia squealed when euphoria quivered her inner thighs. "Don't stop, baby! Don't stop!"

A plea for the moment and the future wrapped in one. Tears begging to see the world all say fell freely from Asia's eyes in pain and pleasure. Kelvin watched her in elation, feeling pride from a job well done swell in his chest.

She came hard, the force from a hard-earned eruption still directing her hips to turn Kelvin's face into a saddle until all thoughts of tomorrow floated into the void to bother Asia another day. Kelvin was there to greet her when strength returned to her body and sent her rolling off his face onto the mattress. Her chest heaved to bring in as much oxygen as possible while he peppered affection across her shoulder and onto her jaw.

"I've never seen you like this before," Kelvin mumbled between kisses to the corner of Asia's mouth. "Maybe we should do that more often?"

She smiled, turning on her side to face him. "I'm down for right now if you wanna go again."

Again? Kelvin tried to maintain his smile, hoping she'd crack the impenetrable neutrality preventing him from getting a read on her true emotions. Was she joking? She had to be joking. But jokes came with laughs and a punchline. So far, neither were in the room.

"Oh, you're serious," Kelvin noted, a mix of confusion and amazement in his voice. He shifted to flip the switch on Asia's headboard lamp for a better look at her face in the wee hours of the morning. "I mean, if you give me a minute, I can maybe get things going again. You know I –"

"Kel, it's fine. Don't stress yourself if you need to rest. I'll live!"

Goading was manipulation, no matter how well she faked a cheery inflection to hide her true intentions. And though she wasn't proud of using nefarious methods to get what she wanted, Asia wouldn't allow her entire weekend to be taken by devastating blow after devastating blow to her emotions without getting something in return.

Kelvin's attempt to kiss Asia's lips was thwarted as she rolled off the bed on the way to the bathroom, leaving him just enough cheek to grease the gears in his mind. "Woah, woah. I need five minutes and I'm back in. Can I have five minutes?"

"Only five. You sure? I'm serious. We can wait until the morning."

"Nah," Kelvin rushed out. Asia watched as he dipped his fingers beneath the plush duvet to take things into his own hands. "I got it. Five minutes."

She'd give him eight. Two to find a distant memory to get the blood flowing, three to get his lone soldier to stand at attention, and three more for her to stop bullshitting and come clean.

The dark, ugly cloud of hidden feelings was starting to drench Asia's mental in inescapable, blurring rain, preventing her from thinking straight as the deadline loomed closer. With Kelvin, she sported a sweet smile and acquiesced to every endless scroll through Crate & Barrel or CB2 run, hoping that picking vases and matching color schemes would help her overcome the truth.

Long distance wasn't an option. Asia had tried to outrun and tiptoe across the fact like it was fresh lava on the ground, only to fall face first before in-flight snacks rolled down the aisle. Coming to terms with reality meant telling Kelvin. Telling Kelvin meant interrupting his third Bad Boys rewatch and the medium-difficulty sudoku puzzle keeping most of his attention. It meant possibly starting an argument with hundreds of strangers in earshot. It meant possibly ending her first relationship thousands of feet in the air with no way home until Monday morning. Worst of all, it meant disappointing Kelvin.

Waiting wouldn't change anything. The longer she kicked the can down the road, the more exhausted she'd wind up once the jig was up. Do it. Rip the band-aid. Asia tried to imagine Sabrina egging her on, pushing her to dive head first into radical honesty but came up short under dim lights showcasing incoming tears shining in her eyes. A harsh wipe with the back of her hand smeared them out of existence before she took a deep breath to steady her nerves. Ripping band-aids off physical wounds always hurt, and the pain never went away as fast as people try to pretend. Emotional wounds couldn't be much different.

"Hey, Kel. Can we talk?" Asia's voice ricocheted in the silence as she exited the bathroom. No response prompted her to call for her lover again. "Babe?"

Eight minutes was too long for tired limbs and eyes to settle atop soft sheets, especially for a man known to value the sanctity of napping. Asia watched Kelvin's chest rise and fall, his mouth hanging open with his hand still beneath the covers. A small smile tugged at her lips as she climbed into bed beside him. Kelvin wasn't a wound, and her revelation wasn't a band-aid. It was a life-altering change that required a delicate approach Asia hadn't quite pieced together. Not here. Not now.

Two soft kisses on his cheek stirred Kelvin awake long enough for him to hug Asia's waist tighter and yawn. "I wasn't asleep. Just resting my eyes. You ready for me?"

"It's okay, babe. Go to bed. See you in the morning," Asia answered. She snuggled closer to his body to savor what could be the last bits of his warmth she'd ever feel. Kelvin half-kissed her forehead, bringing back tears she thought she'd neutralized.

"Mhmm. Morning."

Deep breaths in and out helped Asia match her heartbeat to Kelvin's until sleep welcomed her into a temporary retreat from inner turmoil. She promised herself another round of next times. Next times that came and went without so much as a peep until they slowly took a backseat to the utter chaos of apartment hunting the following morning.

Kelvin's carefully curated list of five perfect apartments had slowly dwindled to two and a shaky possible by noon. Too expensive, too small, too outdated, too stuffy, not enough natural light – the list of big and small flaws ran the gamut of available gripes. Asia resisted taking the opportunity to plant seeds of doubt in Kelvin's mind to play the role of dutiful girlfriend, smothering little frustration fires and offering support in the face of adversity. It was her idea to continue the search past lunch when all Kelvin wanted to do was stalk back to the hotel and bury his head beneath a pillow.

She tugged him down a sidewalk drenched in fresh rain toward their fifth and final option. "Come onnnn. We're already here! This could be the one!" A fifth dud couldn't hurt that bad. Or maybe it'd hurt just enough to help him change course.

All hope of helping Kelvin see the light atomized into a figment of Asia's twisted imagination when a few taps at an empty two-bedroom unit's digital keypad granted them access to the most beautiful piece of real estate either of them had ever seen.

A wall of windows overlooked a bustling cityscape complete with enough commuters and tourists hustling past each other on the sidewalk to people-watch for hours. Expansive, pristine granite countertops complimented warm-toned wooden cabinets, housing more space than both their kitchens combined. Light wood floors added an upscale feel as Kelvin and Asia walked hand in hand through the hallways and gawked at each room. Two bathrooms, a walk-in closet in the guest bedroom, a huge faux-marble standing shower, a soaking tub, enough space for a king bed and nightstands – a slice of heaven well within a reasonable price.

Asia wanted to hate it. She wanted to point out imperceptible flaws in the drywall and the specks of dust on the baseboards. One of the handles on the doorknob stuck a bit when she pressed down on it. Surely, that was enough to change his mind. Unfortunately, the hassle of finding a problem couldn't outshine the pocket of joy she found in watching Kelvin record videos to send to his sister for her approval. He saw a future in empty bedrooms and blank white walls waiting for his creative touch when she couldn't stomach walking into such a prison ever again.

"You were right." Kelvin did a full 360 in the primary bedroom, mentally planning where some of his prints could create a gallery wall. "This is the one. I think I found our spot, babe."

Asia fought to maintain the smile she'd plastered on her face despite happiness being miles away. "I…I think you did, too. This is beautiful. I love it for you." She'd inadvertently found Kelvin a hidden gem. Another perfectly fated wrench was thrown into her plan. "You need me to get the leasing agent?"

"Not right now. Come see the vision for a second." Kelvin's outstretched hand beckoned for Asia to join his side in the center of the room. She answered the call with slow steps before allowing him to pull her body into a soft hug. He pressed silly kisses onto her cheek, making a show of his affection until he'd had his feel. "I'm gonna put the bed right here," he informed, gesturing to a spot against the back wall. "Those two nightstands I've been lookin' at will fit perfectly. Eventually, I'm gonna throw the wallpaper you showed me up behind the bedframe, and that dope ass rug can warm up the room a little too, right?"

Asia placated him with a nod. "Yeah, probably. Either here or in the office."

"Oh, shit, the office. I can say that now. I have an office. We have an office," he laughed, giddy from the realization he could finally separate work, lounge, and sleep into three separate spaces. "Shit is crazy. You know, you basically have two places now. How does it feel to be rich?"

"It's feels good." It felt…something. Terrible? Painful like a thousand bikini waxes back to back? But, good? That wasn't it. "I'm proud of you, Kel. Really."

Kelvin beamed from Asia's approval before puckering his lips for a kiss. "Thank you, baby. You want the left sink or the right sink?"

"I actually want the entire guest bathroom. How much is that per month?"

"I'm actually running a special," Kelvin answered as he pretended to tabulate numbers in his head. "If you come up here to do what we did last night every other month, I'll let it go for breakfast in bed."

Asia considered his offer. "What if you made me dinner every other month and I just ate it with my top off?"

"Sold."

Laughter echoed throughout the empty space, drawing attention from the leasing agent trying not to eavesdrop in the living room. She tiptoed around the corner and stopped to smile at the young couple so wrapped up in each other that they didn't notice her presence. She cleared her throat, making them jump from the intrusion.

She waved her hands in front of her body, eyes wide from embarrassment. "No, no! Don't stop on account of me. I was only checking in with you two. Like what you see?"

"It's beautiful," Asia answered, still in awe of their luck. "Right, babe? This is the one?"

"I think so. I'm only here for the weekend, so it'd be great to start the process today if we can."

The possibility of a commission before the end of the day had the agent jittering in excitement. If they were quick, she'd have her weekend kicked off with a little sweetener on top. She rushed to whip out her iPad and dance her fingers across the screen.

"Oh, of course," she answered, her eyes focused on the device in her hand. "Are we doing one or both of you on the lease?"

"I'm sorry, I'm not –"

Kelvin interjected on top of Asia. "Just me for now. Is there an opportunity to add a second person later, though? You know…in case something changes?"

Asia waited for the punchline or Ashton Kutcher to roll out of the closet with a camera crew in tow to announce she'd been punked. Maybe then she could laugh all this off and understand why Kelvin had gone out of his way to plant the seed that there was a remote possibility she might abandon the life she'd created to follow him hundreds of miles to the Midwest.

"We love a man who plans," the leasing agent complimented, impressed by Kelvin's desire to include his lady. He stood taller and pulled Asia closer despite her legs refusing to budge. "To answer your question, yes. But we can cross that bridge when we get there. In the meantime, take another look, get some more pictures, and then meet me in the lobby to talk about the paperwork. Sound good?"

"Sounds good!" Kelvin couldn't contain the cheery inflection in his voice as he talked through additional instructions with the leasing agent at the front door or the slight hop in his step when he snuck up behind Asia to gaze out of the bedroom's windows over her shoulder.

Pure, unadulterated happiness coursed through his veins with her body wrapped in his arms and tomorrow's possibilities flipping rapidly through his mind. Home. An abode meant for a singular inhabitant at present, but circumstances changed every day. There was a time when Asia was but a coworker and then a close friend. With sunshine peaking through thick grey clouds to bathe their tangled bodies in warm light, he had more than enough proof of how quickly dreams became reality.

Asia sighed as Kelvin nudged her head to the side, searching for space to attach his lips to her neck. "This really is the perfect view." She tried to imagine how each of the unrecognizable buildings across the way would glitter and gleam at night. From the sky, they looked like Christmas lights in a town permanently frozen in the most wonderful time of the year. If she could push past the nagging discomfort in her heart and stick out the increasingly tough times, they could welcome her in with open arms every other month, slowly disarming her guard until she craved more. Another deep breath passed through her nose. "This is gonna work."

Kelvin examined Asia in silence for a moment, wondering if she meant for her statement to sound so unsure. She chewed her bottom lip while staring blankly at the landscape in front of them as if she were searching for the answer in the distance. She seemed to open her mouth to speak but closed it when no words came forth.

"Hey." His soft voice cut through Asia's contemplative silence, snapping her out of her daze. He pecked her cheek before speaking again. "We're gonna be fine. Trust me. Trust yourself."

Turning in his arms, Asia let her gaze softly commit each of Kelvin's perfect imperfections to memory. He looked back at her with a disarming smile, hoping his reassurance would combat whatever uncertainty brewed inside her.

Asia leaned closer, stopping just short to keep their lips tantalizingly close. Kelvin licked his pair, drawing her attention before she made her request. "Kiss me. Please."

Next time, she'd talk things out – lay all her concerns on the table to get the necessary courage to keep moving along a path to true happiness. She'd voice her grievances, express her hesitation, and come out on the other side as a woman facing all her fears.

After their kiss in golden hour light was washed away and their trip was history, she'd put on her big girl panties and do the thing. Next time.

A weekend in Chicago came and went with scary thoughts successfully turned into background fodder to focus on being somebody's Valentine for the first time.

Standing in the dressing room's full-length mirror with an audience of one smacking on scavenged dill pickle chips, Asia examined the curvature of her behind in the fourth sultry red dress picked for an early afternoon try-on haul. The bow at the small of her back perfectly accentuated the toned muscles on display without fabric shielding them from the world. Her long legs benefited from a short hemline meant to turn heads as she strutted through the world on Kelvin's arm.

Sabrina paused her chip chomping to compliment her friend. "You look good! I like it. And if I like it, your man is gonna love it."

"Shit, he better. If I eat more than a piece of gum, I'll risk looking four months pregnant." Asia continued to stare at her reflection, trying to decide if being hot for a night was worth passing out from hunger at a concert. "Fuck it. Unzip me. I'm getting it. Food can wait. I'm only this young and hot once in my life."

"I know that's right! Speaking of Lover Boy, how was Chicago? Y'all see something worth going half on?"

Asia chewed her lip as Sabrina pulled the dress's zipper down the short track. "Uh…he found something he likes, yeah."

"Did you like it? I mean, I know it's not your place, but you'll be there half the year, damn near. You should at least wanna be there!"

"Well. That's the thing." Curious eyes awaited Asia when she turned around to face an expectant Sabrina. "I…may not be visiting…at all."

Curiosity quickly morphed into all-out confusion. "Are you breaking up with him?"

"No! No, I'm not breaking up with him. He might wanna break up with me when I tell him I can't do long distance, but that's a different story."

The final piece of Asia's confession came out as a mumble muffled behind the dress, shielding for the sure tongue lashing on the other side of her honesty, but nothing came. Silence hung between them for several seconds, letting the untz untz of department store electronic music pulse through their small dressing room.

Finally, Sabrina cleared her throat. "Okay," she spoke more to herself than to Asia. "Alright. Let's talk this out. You can't do long distance. Why?"

Asia thought about telling her best friend how much she craved nearby affection and thought being long-distance left too much room for mistakes. She could throw sugar over her true feelings and go on a diatribe to explain all the ways a relationship separated by almost 800 miles wasn't fair to her after years of being alone. She felt punished by some unseen force, beaten down for some sort of sick amusement.

Instead, she shared the plain and simple heart of the matter as she slid her jeans over her legs. "I had rules and boundaries when we started our thing, and I let him break every one of them. I didn't want to kiss, but he did. So, we kissed. I said no staying the night, and a month later, I'm leaving toiletries at his place, Sabrina. We haven't used protection in over a week, and I'm just…letting it happen! What am I doing?"

Losing herself. While Kelvin made strides to grow and improve, Asia allowed the first taste of genuine partnership to turn her into a woman more concerned with pleasing her partner than advocating for her own needs. She'd bent and contorted herself to fit Kelvin's vision on more than one occasion, and though he never asked her to, he never told her to stop. She never felt compelled to stop. That scared her the most. If she couldn't stop there, how far would she allow herself to go in pursuit of someone else's happiness?

"I love Kelvin. I love him so much it makes me sick and gives me life all at the same time. I don't want to hurt him." Of everything she'd said, Asia fessing up to the l-word shook Sabrina. "But I can't keep loving him without loving myself. It's not fair to him or me."

She hugged Asia, not caring about her state of undress. "Oh, friend. Welcome to the sick, sad, beautiful world of being in love. Ain't it fun!" Her joke helped Asia release the breath she didn't know she was holding through a strained laugh. Sabrina rocked them from side to side as she spoke. "Trust your gut, girl. I've never known you to make a decision you didn't think through. Do what you have to do. If this is what you think it is, he'll understand."

"You think so?" Asia sniffled into Sabrina's shoulder.

"He better!" Sabrina quipped. "And if he don't, so what? There are other men in the world and some of them are just as cute, just as successful, and just as willing to give you the world. You gon' be alright regardless, okay?"

I'll be okay regardless. Asia repeated the mantra to herself in an endless loop to calm her nerves from the couch because her next times had run out. By the end of the night, her chariot would turn into a pumpkin and end her perfect fairytale. Say goodbye to your glass slipper and fancy ball gown. Back to scrubbing the floors, you go.

Kelvin poured two glasses of champagne in the kitchen, whistling a made-up tune as he plopped fresh raspberries into crystal-clear flutes and covered them in fizzing liquid. He called for a cheers when she walked through the door dressed like a long-legged super moedel. A little pizzazz to kick off what he hoped would be their first holiday of many.

Dress sock covered feet helped him glide across polished concrete, expertly balancing glassware en route to Asia across the room. "Alright! One for my beautiful baby," he announced before stealing a kiss. "And one for me."

"What are we toasting to?" Asia asked, her glass raised and ready.

Kelvin smiled and put his hand on her thigh. "To us, girl! Fuck everybody else," he exclaimed. "Cheers to us for taking a chance on each other. Hopefully, we'll take some more this year. I know the transition may start off rough, but I hope we'll work through it. I really care about you, Asia. I want to see how far we can take this."

No response didn't stop Kelvin from clinking his glass against Asia's and taking a long sip of cold, pale liquid. She didn't join him. She couldn't join him. Taking a sip was too close to accepting her fate. Carefully, she put the glass on the coffee table then focused all her attention on her shoes.

"Kelvin, I can't do the distance. I can't do Chicago." Barely above a whisper, the truth shocked only one of them as Asia looked him in the eyes and continued. "The more I sit and think about our relationship, the more I realize that who I am ran head first into living for you somewhere in the middle. Your needs have become my needs. I don't want to resent you down the line. Neither of us deserve that."

Grief and sadness eluded Kelvin while he slid closer to Asia. He'd had his time to reckon with reality the night they returned to the hotel and caught her crying in the bathroom. Temporary arrangements had timelines, no matter how hard he tried to outrun them.

Hearing her voice crack produced tears in the corners of his eyes as he laced his fingers in hers and kissed her knuckles. "I already knew. You're not that hard to read. But thank you for finally telling me." His index knuckle beneath her chin forced Asia to look up at him through cloudy vision. He kissed her forehead and nose before collecting stray tears on her cheeks. "I understand. It fucking sucks, but I understand. I never want to get in the way of your self-exploration, even if it doesn't include me. That's why we started all this, right?"

"Yeah," she whispered. "Right."

"Don't worry about me or hurting my feelings. We were friends before, and we can be friends again. That's okay," Kelvin assured. I still want to experience you while we have time, at least for tonight. This dinner reservation was hell to make, and I need you to validate that the tiramisu is fire. Like I can't be the only one of us to have it."

Neither of them allowed misty eyes and hurt feelings to put a lid on their laughter. They were friends before, and though it'd take a moment to shake off a romance with so much potential, they could be friends again.

Asia took a long, deep breath and nodded. "Okay. Tiramisu it is. Can I have a moment to touch up my makeup? I'm sure I look like Beetlejuice right now."

"I wasn't gonna say anything. You look cute in a Pepe Le Pew sort of way," Kelvin joked, earning an eye roll and a grin for his antics. Anything to make her smile. "Go on. I'll be out here waiting."

A parting kiss to her forehead gave Asia enough energy to click four-inch heels across the floor into the bathroom. Kelvin sat back against the couch to finally allow his heavy mind time to process all he'd heard. In four weeks, his greatest joy would see him off to Chicago without a date set for their reunion. He'd kiss her goodbye, hug her close, and see those beautiful eyes for the last time. The thought alone was enough to bring him to his knees.

Eventually, he'd come to terms with his loss. He had no choice. He'd pack up all his big feelings in the box with his prized possessions and board a flight to a land of new opportunity.

But tomorrow's problems belonged to tomorrow. He had a month to face those. Watching Asia strut out of the bathroom in a red dress that hit her in all the right places was far more important.

If this was all the time they had left, he had a few more lessons to teach.

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#GIRLLLAAAAAA!!!!#kelvin harrison jr.#KHJ #other writers #kumkaniudaku

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jarfulloftears · 4 months ago

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It is so sad to see a lot of writers experiencing burn out at the moment.

We create and create and create trying to keep up with our own demands or pressure from readers but no one can leave comments or reblogs. Smdh.

This site is gonna die without engagement yall. Comments and reblogs are air beneath a writers wing. They cant fly on cold, dead air.

Don't matter if the fic is "old", or hasn't been updated, or already has 50 comments, or you feel silly, leave one. Reblog. How did you find the post in the first place? Someone you know reblogged it.

Leave comments. "Enjoyed this, this was great, omg my chest, *long analysis*", whatever. Fandom is a community and it thrives on sharing ideas. Instead of taking your thoughts to the group chat, comment under the fic! Have discussions under the fic! Stop excluding the author from being able to engage in this labor of love they produced.

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jarfulloftears · 4 months ago

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can we pls stop using the incorrect tags for fics? Why am i looking at bucky barnes face when i type in Sam Wilson? i get it, you want you story to reach more people but you’re over saturating another tag with unrelated stuff.

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jarfulloftears · 5 months ago

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Encouragment for writers that I know seems discouraging at first but I promise it’s motivational-

• Those emotional scenes you’ve planned will never be as good on page as they are in your head. To YOU. Your audience, however, is eating it up. Just because you can’t articulate the emotion of a scene to your satisfaction doesn’t mean it’s not impacting the reader.

• Sometimes a sentence, a paragraph, or even a whole scene will not be salvagable. Either it wasn’t necessary to the story to begin with, or you can put it to the side and re-write it later, but for now it’s gotta go. It doesn’t make you a bad writer to have to trim, it makes you a good writer to know to trim.

• There are several stories just like yours. And that’s okay, there’s no story in existence of completely original concepts. What makes your story “original” is that it’s yours. No one else can write your story the way you can.

• You have writing weaknesses. Everyone does. But don’t accept your writing weaknesses as unchanging facts about yourself. Don’t be content with being crap at description, dialogue, world building, etc. Writers that are comfortable being crap at things won’t improve, and that’s not you. It’s going to burn, but work that muscle. I promise you’ll like the outcome.

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jarfulloftears · 5 months ago

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101

Summary: When Asia's in need of a few lessons regarding matters of the bedroom, her colleague and friend, Kelvin, offers his expertise.

Pairing: Kelvin Harrison Jr. x Black!OC

Warnings: Mature Content (18+)

Word Count: 5.5k

MASTERLIST

"So…you come here often?"

In a crowded bar tucked into a rapidly changing side of town, Asia sat perched on a barstool, listening to yet another potential suitor court her uninterested best friend. They always approached with unearned confidence, dropping some variation of the same tired lines only to be tossed back into a sea of misfit boy toys to make room for the next poor, unfortunate soul.

Sabrina loved the attention, though. At a statuesque 5 '10", she didn't mind being worshipped like Aphrodite and choosing her favorite from the litter until she was bored and ready for the next man up. Asia loved it, too. Watching men fall all over themselves in a way they'd never done for her was weirdly empowering. She didn't get to take home any of the night's trophies, but she did get to listen to the stories of every Tom, Dick, and Devante that passed in and out of her friend's life.

Barely interested, Sabrina sipped through a tiny black straw and regarded her latest contestant with tipsy indifference. "Not really. Why?"

"Uh…I don't know. Just, uh, just wondering?"

"Mhm. I'm drinking tequila." A loud slurp from liquid long evaporated from scratched glass filled with more ice than anything else brought the young man's attention to her hands and then back to her face. She offered him her best sweet smile and proposed, "Get me another?"

Asia had never seen a man getting absolutely nothing in return move so fast to wedge himself between a handful of patrons vying for the bartender's attention.

Sabrina let off a cackle loud enough to eclipse various pockets of chatter and music as she elbowed a laughing Asia. "That's, what, three for you tonight?" Asia asked, still swirling around the pity Jack and Coke she was gifted an hour ago. "One more, and you might get the record."

"Girl, I'm not drinking that shit. I'm supposed to be meeting Eric later tonight, and I can't be drunk like I was last time. It's been a month, and I need that."

"He's back from Portugal?"

"Fuckin' finally," Sabrina gushed. "I don't mean to be a 'my man, my man, my man' ass bitch about a nigga that is not my man, but…"

Sabrina didn't need to finish. Four years of their on-off whatever the fuck had been as much a part of Asia's life as it was Sabrina's. She'd been there for all the dates, all the late-night phone calls that pulled her friend away from plans, every blow-up and breakup, and the eventual reconciliation that would, once again, leave her as a lonely party of one. Unfortunately, she never got any of the fabled mind-blowing sex that came from their strange arrangement. Only the stories and the occasional video if Sabrina was feeling spicy.

Asia downed the rest of her drink along with the jealousy brewing in her chest and slid the glass across the bar for someone to collect later. "Well, hey, as long as you're happy." Happy was relative. She really wanted to say as long as you're willing to keep your business out of my bubble, but swallowed the thought before it could breach her lips. "Should I keep my phone off DND just in case?"

No immediate answer made Asia pause her casual scan of the room to look over at Sabrina, who'd all but buried her nose into her cell phone to grin at whatever was keeping her preoccupied.

She called out to her friend again. "Sabrina!"

"Huh," she sputtered out, snapping from her Eric-mania. "N-no, I should be good. We're on good terms. Or I'll just go to my sister's house. Did I tell you she moved? Oh, shit. Let me take this."

Sabrina didn't leave much time for objection, though Asia couldn't say she would offer any if given the chance. She was used to flying solo. She liked moving around the city as a lone wolf, looking for any cocktail lounge or off-the-beaten-path late-night spot to slink into and observe the happenings of 20 and 30-somethings looking for something or someone to get into before trudging home when daylight came back around.

The night was still young enough to hit up a cigar bar her old work friend Marcus had told her about. She didn't smoke, but the brown liquor was always smooth, and their food wasn't half bad.

While she sat trying to get the bartender's attention to close her tab, a presence at her side made themselves known with an accidental shove that nearly knocked her off balance.

"Gahdamn," she hollered, gripping the bar top for dear life to avoid starting a dangerous domino effect. Her mind didn't register the frantic apology from her newest enemy or the way he grabbed her waist to return her to a steady state. All she saw was his smile's familiar, gorgeous gleam when he realized who he'd bumped into just as his night was beginning and hers was coming to a close. "Kelvin?"

He slowly let go of her body and tried to appear taller than he was. "Good, I'm glad you noticed. Thought you might beat my ass. I know how you get down."

"I still should. What the hell are you doin' in here, and did they card you at the door?"

"Ha-ha. I'm a grown-ass man. Don't let the stature fool you." His fake laugh gave way to a real one shared between coworkers who cared enough about their jobs not to get fired but never enough for rapid advancement.

Life as a creative in a city where just about everyone was a "creative" had a way of uniting strangers from all walks of life. When Asia stepped into her new agency searching for exciting new clients and an actual team of people to see in the office a few times a week, she didn't expect to be accosted by the bright-eyed Associate Creative Director who had no business fraternizing with the project management team. But there Kelvin was, half-sitting on her desk with his Nike-clad foot swinging while he rattled off lunch spots within walking distance for them to check out once she was done with her first meeting with HR.

"You always this chatty," She asked while trying to make sense of her new Macbook.

Kelvin sported a mischievous smile. "Only with the other Black folks. We gotta stick together. There ain't but six of us, and two of them are married."

He quickly grew into one of her favorite people to see during the week while they worked side-by-side to meet deadlines and ward off culturally insensitive questions from well-meaning white folks trying to sell products to urban communities. She'd seen him be gregarious during long nights in the office filled with thumbtacks and beer from the bar cart. She'd also sat with him on Teams calls, saying nothing for some of the day while he quietly worked through lines to inspire consumers to do what they did best.

But she'd never seen him outside the strict confines of work culture. In public, they were free to cross the lines of office politics and show their true selves. Asia's true self included a departure from relaxed trousers and professional shoes to make way for short shorts and sky-high heels that accentuated a figure Kelvin couldn't help but notice.

His eyes slowly swept over her body while he finished his thought. "I'm in here because my boy just got his heart broken and needed some comfort. What you doin' in here? I ain't know Asia knew how to have fun!"

"Nah, I can have fun. I just don't like y'all like that."

"That is abundantly clear," he laughed. "You haven't had lunch with me in like two weeks. We got a problem?"

Asia chuckled at him, trying to press her while she pulled cash out of her purse to pay the bartender. "I knew you missed me. I've been busy. Kam's been on my ass about the Moet timelines, and I'm trying to slim down a little bit for my birthday trip anyway. I can't keep eating smash burgers with you three times a week." Kelvin listened as he lazily pushed her hand away as soon as he could reach it and replaced her payment method with his.

He lightly bit down on his bottom lip, trying not to look down at her legs again. "You definitely doin' that," he complimented, a flirtatious lilt thick in his delivery. "Make it up to me tonight."

"How?"

"Kick it with us. We won't be out that long." Kelvin used his head to gesture toward a table to people Asia assumed to be his friends. Two girls and three guys, leaving her to make the group even. He caught her trepidation and stepped a little closer so that she could see his face clearly under blinking strobe lights. "I got you. We can leave at any time if you want. Drinks on me."

Asia rolled her eyes. "I'm not askin' you to do that."

"You don't need to. I aim to please, love. C'mon."

Part of her wanted to refuse his invitation and use Sabrina as her scapegoat. After all, she did step out as one half of a pair.

Then, the other part directed her attention to the tall woman conspicuously making her way to the front entrance, her phone pressed to her ear, and an Uber waiting as her chariot to carry her away from the ball and to a man too shady to ever be a prince.

Kelvin stood awaiting her answer, his eyebrows doing a bit of a cha-cha as he made them wiggle.

Fuck it. "Alright. Start with a lemon drop, and make sure to introduce me as your favorite coworker. Really do your big one."

"Still demanding outside of the office. I like that." He bit his lip again, this time checking her out without shame. When she returned his brazen act with one of her own, he chuckled and flagged down someone who could really get the night going. "Aye, my man! Let me get something for my favorite coworker."

By the time he'd ushered her over to his group of way too cool art friends, Kelvin had dropped the coworker portion of Asia's title and shortened it to "my favorite."

They all sat huddled at a small booth in the back of the bar, nearly stacked on top of each other. It was Kelvin's idea for her to sit sandwiched between him and his homeboy, all but forcing her against his warm chest for any chance at comfort. It was his idea for the group to continue their conversation about sex and relationships even though it had fizzled to focus on a Black sitcom hierarchy debate. And it was absolutely his idea for him and Asia to hang back together once the other members of the group had set off to find comfort as pairs for the night.

She could only take credit for dropping the frills in their cocktails and settling for straight shots of her good friend, vodka.

Kelvin tossed back shot number he didn't know and let his mouth curl into a devious smirk while he watched Asia reapply clear lip gloss that caught the light just right. "You use dating apps, or you more of an organic meet-up type of lady?"

"I have profiles, but I can't tell you the last time I used one. And nobody is checking for me outside." Asia laughed quietly at the idea of someone approaching her for any reason other than asking for directions.

"What's so funny?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. That you think people are interested in me to the point that they're swiping right of whatever the fuck."

"So you just be on there for fun? Nothing is happening?" He scoffed to himself and plucked a lukewarm fry from a basket in front of him. "You're at least hooking up."

"I've never hooked up in my life."

Asia tried to rush past her drunk confession, tried to push away the words just as quickly as they'd entered the atmosphere, but Kelvin had already heard them.

He nodded, mostly to himself, then shrugged. "That's okay. Nothin' wrong with it. You waiting for marriage?"

"Fuck no," she scoffed. "I'm just waiting for someone nice enough to not make it weird. It's embarrassing enough being 30 and a virgin. Not really trying to make it weird by discussing it over appetizers."

"Like we doin' now?"

Asia laughed and finally took her shot while Kelvin watched her with the sheen of drunk thoughts clouding his eyes. He brushed her hair over her shoulder softly, his fingers lingering on her collarbone for a few seconds before he threw his arm over the top of the booth's seat and scooched lower, settling into a comfortable manspread.

"This is different. You're easy to talk to and not being creepy about it."

He nodded in understanding. "So somebody nice. What else?"

"I don't know. Somebody willing to teach and be patient. I'm a quick study. I just need the opportunity to learn somewhere safe." Vulnerability shared with a man she only kind of knew personally made Asia shrink in embarrassment as she rushed to clean up her verbal mess. "That's stupid to want, though. Nobody's trynna teach a grown woman how to fuck. I'm cool with missing out."

She'd started to try to cover her tracks so much that she didn't hear when Kelvin spoke back to her until the last words had tumbled from his lips in a broken sentence.

She doubled back. "Wait. What did you say?"

"I said I'll do it. I'll teach you."

"Teach me what?"

"How to fuck," he said so matter of fact that he sounded like he was talking about his grocery list or errands to run and not having sex. He continued despite the clear look of shock on Asia's face. "Only if you want me to. I'm cool either way."

"I-I mean…I don't…if you want. Maybe we shouldn't –."

He cut in and pointed at her shot glass. "You done or want another one?" Asia sputtered out that she'd had all she could drink in one night, and he nodded, reaching into his back pocket to pluck a credit card from his wallet's inventory. He tapped her hip to silently tell her to let him out, and she followed directions blindly for a reason she couldn't explain. Once he was standing, he looked down at her with a soft smile and kind eyes. "Just think about it and let me know. No pressure."

Asia didn't know what made her text Kelvin after work the following Thursday evening. All she knew was that he told her that his Friday was booked, but Saturday was all hers.

They agreed on him stopping by at 8:30 p.m., after anybody planning to go out had started their dressing routines and those intent on staying in had wrapped up any reason to leave the house and turned in for the evening. In her mind, that ensured none of her neighbors would see her bringing in a man clearly there for a singular purpose.

His prompt knock on her apartment door scared her even though she was the one who told him how to access guest parking, gave him a visitor's code, and told him her apartment number.

Wiping her sweating palms on her pajama shorts, she padded toward the door and took a deep breath before pulling it open.

He smirked when she came into view. "On the first knock? That's hospitable."

"Shut up," she admonished, though the joke had done its intended job and chipped away at building nerves. "And take off your shoes. There's fresh slippers in the basket if you need 'em."

Kelvin took Asia turning her back to him as an invitation to enter her apartment and to take a gander at the space he'd partially seen in meetings and their solo "work sessions."

Despite not being a hands-on creative, he could tell she had an appreciation for art. Reyna Noriega art prints and classic hip-hop album covers formed a gallery wall over her couch. A display of CDs that he had no idea people still collected sat stacked by a vintage boombox he was sure cost her a pretty penny. Potted monsteras and a well-loved fiddle leaf fig took up space beside a large window overlooking a bustling street below. It was clear she loved color from the maroon sectional in her quaint living room and the complementary pillows crowded in the corner he usually saw her sit in. He immediately recognized her desk and the lit 'on air' wall sign above it, making him feel like he knew something about her with the present situation carrying the kind of nervousness and uncertainty that typically came with first dates.

This wasn't a date, though. This was business—an agreement—a short-term arrangement for long-term success.

Asia cracked the seal on a fresh bottle of water before sliding it across the island to Kelvin, who took a generous sip from his spot in one of her barstools. She watched him intently as she stood on the other side, waiting for less abrupt words to populate her mind. They never came, and she couldn't stand the wait any longer.

She ran her hand up the back of her head to adjust flyaways beneath her fresh bun before speaking. "We should discuss a few ground rules…if that's cool."

"It's your world," he laughed. "I'm just here to help. By all means, go ahead."

Asia took a deep breath and then reached for her phone to navigate to the unnecessarily detailed note she spent the previous night typing out. "Okay. To start, I need to see your most recent test results, and they can't be older than three months from today's date."

"Cool," Kelvin shrugged, tapping at his phone screen before placing it back on the counter. "Those are from, like, two months ago. I can get you something more recent if that isn't enough."

A soft buzz in her hand signaled the delivery of his test results neatly packed in a PDF sent via iMessage, making her swallow a lump in her throat. Things were getting too real. She continued. "I'll…give those a look," she started, semi-impressed that he was keeping up with his health in that manner. "Next, no bondage or sub/dom play. I'm not into it. I haven't tried it, but I just know I'm not."

"Me neither. What's the next one?"

"We gotta use protection every time."

"Copy."

"No staying the night."

"I don't like it over here that much anyway."

Amusement tugged at Kelvin's lips while he watched her scroll further down her list. Deep brown skin. She had narrow hips that almost duped you into thinking there was no ass behind her. Strong thighs. A beautiful smile. A good head on her shoulders. Perfect lips. Pretty —

Kelvin blinked back into the present when he heard his name called. "Say that again. My fault."

Asia rolled her eyes and spoke a little louder. "We can't change our behavior at work. No one can know about this."

"Bet." He was so nonchalant all the time, so unbothered by the circumstances no matter the topic at hand. Deadlines didn't matter. Client gripes and regroup after regroup did little to deter him. He'd always shrug his shoulders under one of his many distressed hoodies and proceed unphased. Kelvin took another sip of water before answering the question he sensed in Asia's eyes. "I'm rolling off of the only work we share anyway, so we won't interact that much."

"Woah, how come?" Asia caught her reaction and tried to dial her sadness back a bit. "I mean, you're… you're not leaving, right?"

Kelvin flashed a toothy grin while adjusting the blue velour durag tied tight on his head. "Nah, I'm still around for now. I raised my hand to take on some pitch work for a challenge. I'm bored." He paused to turn his lips up in an accusatory pout. "You gon' miss me, huh?"

"Stop trying to distract me. Which brings me to my next rule: no kissing during sessions or otherwise. Let's try to keep this as platonic as possible."

"Oh, nah." The one rule Asia assumed Kelvin would accept with no pushback was the one that gave him the most pause. He twisted his face into one of instant disapproval. "I don't have sex with people I can't kiss or hang out with. I know it's just physical, but I still need to like you as a person. Nah. We gotta kiss. Go get some food every once in a while. Something. Nah."

He was adamant and unyielding in his need for physical and emotional intimacy despite their arrangement not being one meant for the comforts of a relationship.

Asia noted his gripe and raised a hand in surrender while she backspaced in her note. "Okay, okay. We can kiss. I'm probably not that great at it, but — "

"You don't need to worry about what you're good at with me. Nobody goes to swim lessons expected to know how to swim. I'm teaching, and you're learning. That's the point of all this."

Stunned silence dropped Asia's jaw for a half second until she had enough nerve connections in her brain to pick it up and try to salvage her image. Kelvin tried to hide his smile behind his near-empty plastic water bottle while he watched her with satisfaction dancing in his eyes. For someone usually so poised, so sure of themselves as they moved through the tiny world that overlapped between them, Asia was flustered easily. A crack in the armor. Endearing. It made her human to Kelvin, who saw her as a mythical creature filled with unattainable magic.

Standing, Kelvin pulled his hoodie over his head, a question muffled as he disappeared behind thick fabric. "Can I ask you some stuff, or is this more of an interview? I know I got movie star charm, but I do like a back-and-forth every once in a while. Keeps me humble."

"Oh, brother," Asia groaned. "Ask what you gon' ask, Kelvin, before I change my mind."

A glimpse at his abdomen as his disrobing incidentally lifted the crisp white tee beneath did all the heavy lifting to stir Asia into crackling embers of desire masked by a deteriorating cool exterior.

He caught her looking, eyes wide like deer in headlights and winked on his way to plop down on her couch. "This is niiice," he drew out, scooting deeper to get comfortable. Where you get this? Don't let me find out you've been letting me pay for lunch, and you're rich."

"That's why I gave you a break the last few weeks. See how I look out for you." she joked, earning a dimpled smile in return. "Now, ask your question."

Kelvin called her over with a quick tilt of his head and a disarming smile. "Come over here first."

In her inner monologue, Asia passed the blame for her slow walk toward him to the fleeting gleam of his earrings under her bamboo floor lamp acting as a homing signal. In reality, it was simple attraction. Bare bones, uncomplicated attraction. He was boyishly handsome, the type of man you meet in college and remain "friends" with until one of you gets bored. Clean facial hair, glowing skin, straight white teeth, a sturdy hairline – all the makings of a classically fine man. What he lacked in height, he made up in personality and a beguiling genuineness.

That's what carried her the few steps from the kitchen to Kelvin's side, her eyes low until he tugged her down into his lap. He chuckled into her ear as his soft hands rubbed a soothing path up and down her exposed thigh while he cradled her. "You ever hear your neighbors in here?"

"That was your question, Kelvin? If I can hear my neighbors? Not usually, no."

He quietly scanned the corners of the room, nodding to himself in silent confirmation, then looked back at Asia with a lazy smile. His lips pecked at her neck before he spoke against her delicate skin. "And I wanted you to tell me about Friday. I saw you got the Hustle this week. That's big, girl. Congratulations."

His deep mumbles vibrated across Asia's body, awakening nerve endings in places she didn't know could feel so electrified. Her legs tensed as she fought for a response. "Thank you. I…I wasn't expecting it."

"I don't know why. You been bustin' your ass. Stayin’ late…” His voice trailed as his fingers danced across her stomach to the waistband of her shorts, hovering. Waiting. Teasing. "Comin' early. Skipping lunches. The least they could do is recognize you."

All of Asia's words came out in a needy rush of air. "Yeah, I guess so."

"I know so." Long, deft fingers slid into Asia's shorts and over her thin underwear, looking for tension to relieve. "Tell me to stop whenever you want." Kelvin kept his lips attached her neck just as his hold on her waist tightened and her eyelids started to flutter closed. He spoke low and smooth, like warm honey. "What'd you do today?"

A sigh and a whimper tumbled from her lips, fragmented and surprised. "I…I went to the farmer's market. The one uptown by the Whole F-foods."

"What'd you get? More of that fruit juice you let me taste?"

"Mhm."

Asia had something else to say, something possibly important, had it popped up at a different time. However, the words faded into a haze of disjointed thoughts once Kelvin started making slow revolutions against her clothed center. The spot grew wetter with each pass. He listened to her try to breathe for a few seconds with the ghost of a smile on his lips while he focused on easing her into more stimulation.

He rubbed his nose against her cheek to gently direct her to say more. "And what else? Focus on that so I can focus on you."

Heat came first. An uncontrollable, blazing internal heat radiated from Asia's shoulders to her clenched toes. The fire inside created steam in her mind that needed a minute to clear before she could mentally wipe it away and think about the moments in her day that meant more than having her body controlled by a man who, less than a week ago, had never even seen her ankles.

"Lunch," she panted. "I had lunch at…at a, um, a vegan spot. It was terrible. I…oh my God…I wasted my money."

"You're vegan?"

"No. Just…thought I'd try something different today."

"Oh yeah?" Kelvin pulled his hands away long enough to lick the tips of his fingers before returning them further south. Slick and searching for warmth, he carefully led them into her panties for skin-to-skin contact. "You're full of surprises today, huh?"

Asia's answer became a shuddering sigh that never quite let all the air out of her lungs before she went to inhale.

They sat like that for what felt like forever. Asia breathing in an uneven pattern, eyes closed and twitching behind crinkled lids. Kelvin slowly, deliberately circling the center of her pleasure with his nose pressed to her neck, inhaling the shea and sandalwood body wash coating her skin. Both of them caught up in the rapture of an impromptu lesson one.

Kelvin snuck his free hand beneath Asia's shirt, caressing his way to both nipples that ached for contact. He ran his thumb across his favorite one a few times over before cupping her entire breast to gently hold it in the palm of his hand.

"I didn't know this was the first session," Asia whispered as her body grew rigid and wetness coated her thighs, the words almost lost to the low roar of her dishwasher across the room.

"It doesn't have to be. Consider it a chemistry test," he answered. "Wanna stop?"

Asia rushed to answer, "No! Stay right there…please."

Hearing her beg for his touch, for the feeling he was producing, sent Kelvin into a tailspin of emotions that he fought to put back into the mental box he never planned to open. But he couldn't escape the burning desire to press kisses from her shoulder to the corner of her lips. "Look at you. I think you know what you want," he commented as he increased the pace to elicit the whimper she tried to keep tucked away. "Don't be shy. Speak up."

She couldn't. Even with the words knocking against the container of her mind like cold rainwater on a tin roof, she couldn't fight the sighs and sultry mewls taking precedence over making requests. All she could squeak out as her stomach clenched to welcome the first shocks of impending orgasm was a measly whimper.

"That's okay," he murmured. "We can work on it. Breathe deep for me."

Or don't breathe at all. Asia's lungs chose the second option, involuntarily holding in a breath to receive the single digit tentatively plunging inside her while tears leaked from the corner of her eyes. Kelvin kissed away the initial shock until she nervously returned the affection.

It was all too good. The taste of mint on his tongue, the feeling of his hands dragging out every sigh and sound she could concoct, the way his moans mingled with hers, how his eyes seemed to try and convey something more than the carnal situation they'd found themselves in – all too good and far exceeding expectations.

Plush lips moved against each other like seasoned lovers, syncing up without much pomp and circumstance. Asia was right. She was a quick study. She'd learned the ebbs and flows of a solid kiss in no time as she relaxed into Kelvin's touch. Nervousness had quickly dissipated into familiar passion, loosening the bolts on what they both assumed would be an awkward first encounter.

Her hips swiveled against his lap in time with each push and pull of his middle finger. She could handle more. She deserved more.

When his ring finger joined the show, Kelvin pulled away from their lip lock to let Asia's throaty moan ping off the walls and ceiling. "There she is," he cooed against her lips. "I knew you had it in you."

Her private time had nearly gone unrivaled until he came along. She'd mastered how to get herself off efficiently with nothing more than a little mental stimulation and time on her hands. This was different. This was exhilarating. Having praise and pleasure in equal measure scratched an itch that she'd almost believed would never be satiated. Now, she had her first taste of a drug she wasn't sure she wanted to quit.

Kelvin's reminder to breathe echoed through Asia's mind as her body welcomed release. Waves of warmth cascaded across her limbs to match the near sob in her throat. Sweat pooled beneath her t-shirt. He kept his lips pressed to hers, creating a heady feeling that juxtaposed the pressure quaking her insides and sending her essence all over his knuckles. Her breathing all but stopped until the slow tingle of feeling returning to her toes reminded her that not only was she still alive, but her coworker still had his hands in her pants and a silly, self-satisfied grin on his lips.

"You sound so pretty when you're not yelling at me through a screen." Kelvin pulled his fingers out of her warmth and immediately stuck them into his mouth for the taste he'd been fiending for. Asia watched him with shock and intrigue on her face as he hummed in approval at his reward for all his hard work. "And you acted like you didn’t wanna kiss but you're not bad at it. I've had way worse."

Asia's rolling eyes matched the deadpanned response she used to hide how flustered she was. "Oh, great. I was starting to worry," she scoffed. "Get out of my house, Kelvin. I'll see you next weekend. Same time?"

A pang of disappointment hit him as she stood to scurry toward her bathroom without sparing him a second look. "We don't have to be like that," he called after her. "It's up to you, but I got a Disney bundle and Uber One until the end of the month. And you gotta eat, right?"

"I guess so," Asia answered, leaning on the frame with her arms crossed while she quietly committed the dimples in Kelvin's cheeks to memory. "Can we get something I can put hot sauce on?"

"You want your Wednesday usual?"

She smirked and turned her back to leave. "Don't go browsing around my Netflix messing up my recommendations and shit. Wait 'til I come back!"

Kelvin kept his smart remark to himself and sank deeper into the couch to scroll through dinner options until he found his target. An intentional lick of his lips when he knew he was completely alone brought Asia back into the room by taste and imagination, reinvigorating a stirring below the navel that he couldn't relieve until he was in the privacy of his own thoughts.

Adjusting himself to find relief, Kelvin released a low chuckle and licked his lips again for the thrill.

All business and no play was boring. Next Saturday couldn't come soon enough.

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