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maedesculpaeusoubi · 6 hours

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Goldenrod

Word count: 8.1k

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x Female Reader

Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Angst, Toxic Themes and Behavior, Jealousy. Smut: Kissing, Touching, Oral M!Receiving, Fingering, Dirty Talk, Unprotected Sex, Fluff.

A/N: I blame Josh Kiszka, entirely.

It’s a nice place, with tea light candles and fresh flowers on every table. Tucked away on the West side of Nashville, far from the wide eyed tourists and the flashing city lights. It’s quaint, but always busy. A reservation here would cost you. A name or your checkbook, either one will do. You wonder how he managed it, who he knows or what he does. You’d been here only once before, strings pulled and names dropped no doubt.

The hostess led you to your table, smack dab in the center of the restaurant, commanding all the eyes and attention of the patrons around you. With a curt smile you tucked into your chair and waited for your date. You weren’t really sure why you agreed to this, but after several failed attempts on your own you finally caved. Cambry is a terrible influence and you knew better than to go on a date with a man of her choosing, but here you found yourself in a swanky restaurant at a table for two.

You didn’t put too much effort into your outfit, opting for a tight black dress and a pair of gold earrings. It showed off your figure without revealing too much. It was tasteful and sexy, everything you want on a first date.

You knew nothing of the man you were meeting apart from his name. Simon. Cambry assured you that he was perfect for you, claiming how similar the two of you were and citing you had similar taste in music. So, you agreed.

You couldn’t fault him too much for being late, the traffic absolutely horrendous as you made your way through Midtown. You perused the drink menu, placing your order for a dirty martini when the waiter stopped at your table. As you sipped at the briney drink you felt a presence behind you, and you knew Simon must have arrived.

A tall man, with long dirty blonde hair stepped up to the seat across from you, lifting his hand to shake yours.

“Hi, I’m Simon. Sorry I’m late, the traffic–”

“Was terrible, I know,” you laugh, shaking his hand. “Y/N.”

He takes his seat as his eyes dart around your face taking you in. “You got a drink I see, any recommendations? I’ve never been here before.”

“I was wondering how you were able to pull a reservation so last minute,” you answer, pushing the drink menu towards him.

“Ah, called up one of my buddies, works tickets down at Nissan Stadium. Was no trouble,” he boasts as if entry level ticket sales is something to be proud of.

You smile politely and nod your head, “I got a dirty martini, they are heavy handed on the vermouth so I order gin instead of vodka.”

“Dirty, huh?” he smirks, opening the drink menu.

You offer a clipped smile, already not liking this guy too much. His frat boy vibes are a little too strong for your liking, and quite frankly is the opposite of what you have ever been into. The waiter steps up a few seconds later, noticing that your date has arrived.

“What can I get for you sir?”

“I don’t know what all this fancy shit is, do you have Bud Light?” he asks, rapping his knuckles against the table.

“Um, no sir, I believe the only beer we have on tap is Thunder Ann from Jackalope,” he offers with a pleasant smile.

“Was that English?” Simon jokes, however, it is not well received by your waiter or yourself.

“I could bring you a sample if you’d like?”

He blows out a breath of defeat, “I’ll just have what she’s having, but make mine stronger.”

You raise an eyebrow at his demand, silently kicking yourself for ever agreeing to this.

The waiter nods and heads off and a sense of dread washes over you as you realize you are about to enter into forced conversation with this stranger.

“So how do you know Cambry?” he asks, leaning back in his chair like he's at his mothers house.

You swallow down the distaste and try to answer his question, “Cambry and I work together. She is my office suitemate.”

“Oh so you work at the little music place, too?” he asks, downplaying your career to boost his own ego.

“I don’t think Sony Music Publishing is a ‘little music place’ but I guess everyone is entitled to their opinion,” you jest.

“What do you do there?” he asks, accepting his drink from the waiter. He takes far too large of a sip before you can answer, shocking the both of you.

“I’m an account executive, so I do sales, client management, data reports, that kind of thing. How about you? What do you do?” you ask, genuinely curious about what he could possibly do that he would need to belittle your career.

“Oh well, right now I am kinda just playing the corporate field so to speak. I’ve got a few sweet options in my pocket, but uh, right now I am working down at AT&T. You know that Batman looking building. It’s pretty chill,” he says in an attempt to flaunt.

“Yeah, I know it well actually. What do you do there?” you ask.

“I’m a field sales representative,” he answers, his voice dropping a little. You feel your eyes practically bulge from their sockets.

“So, you don’t like, physically work in the building,” you confirm.

“I mean, I report there at the end of the day,” he replies, trying to blow smoke.

“So if you report there at the end of the day, where do you spend your day?” you ask.

“Kind of everywhere. I do a lot of driving around. I was able to secure a deal with a new Mexican restaurant over in Hendersonville. They want full fiber and phones. Pretty sweet, might even make a commission on it,” he says pridefully.

“Wow, a commission too? They are spoiling you,” you taunt.

“Yeah, I’m about to move up, gonna put me into commercial sales. More office time and less road time,” he says, folding up his menu. Your mind is positively racing at how Cambry thought you two would be a perfect match when he couldn’t be more different than you.

“So uh, what are you thinking you want to eat?” he asks.

“I think I might do the farmhouse pasta, the sun dried tomatoes sound good,” you answer, closing your menu as well.

“Yeah I’m gonna get a steak, I bet they are good here,” he says waving over the waiter. Your face blushes red as he makes a scene to grab his attention.

“Yes sir, we are ready to order,” Simon states, opening up his menu. “I’m gonna have the Porterhouse with mushrooms well done and can you bring a side of ketchup?”

You think that if your eyes rolled any harder you could see your brain, but alas you must keep your composure and make it through this trainwreck of a date.

“For you miss?”

“Yes, could I please do the farmhouse pasta? I will also do one more dirty martini,” you smile, hoping the waiter can sense the apology in your tone.

“Great, I will be back,” he says, stepping away with the gentle nod of his head.

The evening continues on as you listen to him tell you every uninteresting fact about himself while he dips his shoe leather of a steak in ketchup. You have a hard time finding your own meal appetizing as you watch him eat, a tiny dribble of ketchup at the corner of his lips. He barely gives you a chance to speak as he relives his fraternity glory days, telling you every close call he has ever had with the police and every famous person’s door he’s knocked on since he moved here from Mississippi.

You down your drink probably a little too fast, trying to decide if you will need another to make it through the last part of this date. You know you will never speak to this man again, and you know you will be giving Cambry a firm talking to come Monday morning.

The waiter steps up to the table with the check, placing it in front of Simon who sends him a puzzled look. “Oh, actually she’s getting the check tonight.”

“Am I?” you ask, a little confused yourself. You had no problem going dutch, but to be told you were taking the entire responsibility of the bill was a bit of a shock.

“I mean, yeah, Cambry said you wanted this date, so… I figured since it was your idea, you were paying. I didn’t bring my wallet.”

You feel your mouth go dry at the audacity of his assumption. “I have no problem going dutch,” you say.

“Yeah, it’s just I didn’t bring my wallet,” he counters, shrugging his shoulders. “I can Venmo you later or something.”

You bite your tongue as you reach for your purse, knowing there is an extremely high chance that this meal will drain his checking account.

“It’s fine, I can get it. No problem,” you say, pulling your wallet from your purse. Just as you unzip it you feel someone walk up behind you, and the sight of a hand on the waiter's arm. The person leans towards the waiter, saying something quietly in his ear as he slips a silver metal credit card into his hand.

As you look up you recognize the mass of curls and the crisp white linen. The smell of his cologne forever ingrained in your memory. Your eyes flash over to Simon who is just as confused as you are, watching the interaction. A few more words are spoken between the waiter and the man you now know is Josh. Your ex.

The waiter scurries off with Josh’s card just as he turns to face you with a shit eating grin. He then casts a lethal glance to Simon, who at this point is looking rather small.

“Don’t you know it's distasteful to make your date pay?” he asks, venom in his voice.

“And you are?” Simon snaps.

“Well, from my place at the bar I thought I was the competition, but now I’m fairly positive that is not the case. My name is Josh, and I would ask yours but quite frankly I don’t care to know.”

“Josh!” you yelp.

“What darling, you can’t deny the facts. I’ve been sitting at the bar since you arrived. Was quite the unexpected show, I must admit,” he pauses, “If I’ve misjudged your evening, which, I’m sure I haven’t based on your body language alone, please do feel free to correct me.”

“We’re actually on a date, man,” Simon speaks up, taking you and Josh both by surprise as you turn to stare at him.

Josh just snickers, shaking his head before turning to you. “Have you had enough, sweets?”

“What do you want, Joshua?” you ask, a little annoyed at his brazenness.

He cups your chin with his thumb and forefinger as he gives you a knowing look, “Is this what you want? You want me to go?”

You push his hand away and cross your arms over your chest, refusing to answer his question.

“Fuck this,” Simon spouts, pushing away from the table and storming out of the restaurant.

Josh quickly takes his seat, sitting across from you as he folds his hands on the table. “You’re welcome,” he taunts, accepting the check book back from the waiter.

“A pleasure Mr. Kiszka,” he nods, walking away.

“Mr. Kiszka? They know you by name here?” you groan, watching a sideways grin pull across his full lips. His eyes glance down to the plate of half eaten food in front of him.

“A well done steak with ketchup? My, my, darling have your standards dipped that low?” he asks, signing the receipt and closing the book. You roll your eyes and reach for your martini glass, however his hand snakes out to grab it first, tossing the rest of it back.

“What the hell,” you growl.

“You dumped me for a broke asshole?” he asks, sitting back in the chair.

“He might have been broke, but I bet he could fuck me more than once every three months,” you snap, pulling ammo from your failed past.

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head, “Now, now, retract the claws sweetness, be my good girl, yeah?”

“I’m not your anything, Josh, and I don’t know what you think is about to happen here, but I can promise you it’s not.”

He stabs at the olive in the martini glass, popping it between his lips. “You sure about that?”

“You completely derailed my date,” you bark.

“Oh, please Y/N. You were ready to go the moment he introduced himself, late, might I add. You were entirely repulsed through dinner, and you couldn't get a word in edgewise. It may have been a year or so since we called it quits, but I still know you like the back of my hand, darling.”

“You don’t know me like that anymore, Josh.”

He chews the olive as a hum rings through his chest, “Is that why your thighs are clenched together under the table right now, for the first time tonight? Why you can’t seem to sit still, squirming everytime I look at you? The pretty pink blush on your cheeks that happened to appear as soon as I stole his seat? Because I just don’t know you anymore?”

You shake your head and look away, pushing him out of your mind.

“Look at me, Y/N,” he demands, and instinctually you turn your head. “Own it.”

You meet his eyes and huff out an annoyed breath. “You can’t just walk up to me and think we are going to pick up where we left off. I left you for a reason, Josh.”

“Are you ready to go now that you’ve said your piece?” he asks, pushing his chair away from the table.

“I drove myself here, and I’ll drive myself home,” you quip.

“After two martinis, I don’t think so, sweetness. I’ll send for your car in the morning,” he insists.

“Send for my car? What are you, the Pope?”

“Only the one time if you remember correctly,” he jokes, offering his hand to help you stand from your chair. You take it begrudgingly, grabbing your purse and smoothing out your dress.

“Stunning as usual, love. You know I love that silhouette on you,” he says, ushering the two of you out the door and into the parking lot. He drives a different car now, which is probably why you didn't recognize it in the lot when you arrived.

“It wasn’t for you,” you gripe.

“But it was for him? Mister can’t even split the check?” he counters.

“Again, he may not be made of money, but he at least listened the few times I was able to get a word in,” you snap.

Josh sucks his teeth as he opens the passenger door, helping you climb inside. It’s spacious and smells of new leather. A string of beads hangs from the rearview mirror and a tiny crystal lays haphazardly in the center console. He joins you seconds later, starting the car and backing out of the parking space.

“Where are you taking me?” you question, although you’re fairly certain you know the answer.

“Home,” he snickers, taking a right out of the parking lot.

“You don’t know where I live, I moved,” you say, shifting your body in the seat.

“No, no. I said, I am taking you home.”

“What if I don’t want to go?” you ask, fully lying to yourself and to him and he knows it.

“I did always like it when you played hard to get,” he smiles, moving his hand to rest on your bare leg. “But your body gives you away everytime.”

“Where’d you find him?” he asks, letting his eyes flick over to yours for just a second.

“Cambry,” you answer, a twinge of defeat in your voice.

“Cambry? Come on, baby, you know she has the worst taste in men,” he groans, merging onto the freeway with ease.

“I didn’t really have a choice, and she oversold him, clearly,” you answer.

“So you’re still at Sony, then?”

“I am, though I’ve been considering a career change, maybe even a city change,” you lie.

“Had enough of Nashville?” he jests.

“The people that reside here,” you taunt.

“Fair enough,” he concedes.

His fingers trace circles into your skin, lighting little fires with every pass. “You stopped answering my calls,” he trails off.

“That is typical of a break up Josh…”

“Baby–”

“Don’t call me that,” you snap.

“What can I call you?” he asks.

“Nothing, you can take me home and send my car in the morning,” you answer.

His grip on your leg tightens, his thumb passing over your knee. You feel warm beneath his touch, a calmness washing over you. This is always how he got you.

“It was one fight, Y/N! I know I fucked up, but–” he shouts, losing his calm and cool composure for a millisecond.

“Josh…” you whine, not wanting to hash this out again.

As you pull up to a red light he turns to look at you, moving his hand from your leg and grabbing your hand instead.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. Just– come over for a little bit. Let’s talk. Catch up a little. Don’t let your night be a complete loss, you look too pretty. Let me appreciate you,” he says, squeezing your hand.

Your eyes meet his, sparkling and encased by his thick lashes. “Okay,” you murmur.

“Yeah?”

You roll your eyes and nod your head, “Yes, fine. Just to catch up.”

The light changes and you swear he did twenty over the speed limit the rest of the way to his house. He has a smirk on his lips that he can’t seem to shake, and his hand hasn't left yours.

“Why were you at the bar alone?” you ask, the gin making you feel a little more brave than usual.

“I like the food, and they make my drink the right way. You know I don’t like going into the city, too many people, and the guys were all busy tonight. I think I was right where I needed to be though. Got you out of that shitty date,” he laughs.

“It was pretty shitty,” you agree, flashing him a smile.

“Missed that,” he says, turning into his driveway. “That smile. Lights up a room.”

“Stop,” you say, playfully pushing his shoulder. “Don’t suck up now after you were all bossy and demanding at the restaurant.”

“Worked though,” he grins, shrugging his shoulders and shutting off the car.

“Did it?”

“You’re here…” he says, tipping his chin.

“To talk. To catch up,” you counter.

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you,” he says, helping you out of the car and shutting the door behind you. He guides you up to the front door with his hand on the small of your back, shoving his key into the lock and opening the door.

You’re instantly transported back in time. A time when this was your safe place, when this was your landing pad of comfort. A home you shared together. Warm and welcoming. Until, it wasn’t. It was a big empty house with nothing but the echo of your own voice for months on end. The place you would listen to your calls ring out with no answer and texts would sit on delivered for days.

It was hard to leave him, your personal ray of light. The good times were the greatest, and the bad times were worse than the worst. You met your breaking point and all you could think of was starting over. Living a normal life with a normal job and a normal relationship.

You’d grown a little since that day, finding yourself and establishing your own roots in the city. You cut off contact completely. Josh never gave up though. He was persistent, you’d give him that. He tried to reconcile things, promised to fix it, promised to do better, but after so many failed attempts, you couldn’t do it anymore. You needed to see this through, for yourself.

It took almost a year but he did stop calling. Stopped checking in. Your heart ached for him. You wondered if you’d made a mistake. You knew you never really stopped loving him. How could you stop loving someone like him? He took your heart and cast it in gold, giving a piece of himself to you to carry when he was away, but still it wasn’t enough. You needed more than he could give you then.

“You redecorated,” you ponder.

“A bit. Just some new furniture, art and things I picked up on the road,” he says, tossing his keys on the table. “You like it?”

You nod your head, “Yeah, I do. It feels very… you.” you pause, “It feels warm.”

He walks into the kitchen, pulling two lowball glasses from the cabinet before reaching for the tequila on top of the fridge. He holds the bottle up towards you in question and you nod your head, knowing you aren’t leaving tonight.

He pours the tequila into the glasses, topping them with sparkling water and a handful of ice as you walk over to join him. He slides the glass to you and holds his up to tap against yours.

“Glad you’re here, baby,” he breathes.

“Josh…”

“Sorry, old habit,” he blushes, taking a sip of his drink.

You join him, taking a long pull from the glass letting the bubbles slip down your throat. He made it perfect, just how you like it.

“Shall we?” he asks, pushing off the counter top and making his way into the living room. You follow behind him taking the seat next to him on the couch. You settle into the leather cushions as he shoots up again.

“Wait, hold on,” he says, walking across the room. He struts across the wood floors carrying himself in a way much different than you have ever seen him. He looks confident and seems to be floating. He grabs a small remote and turns down the lights, casting the room in a much dimmer light.

“Do you always walk around like that?” you ask, sipping from the rim of your glass.

“Like what?” he asks, returning to his place next to you.

“Like…like you’re made of gold,” you giggle, letting the tequila warm your blood.

“What if I am?” he challenges.

“What, made of gold?”

“Mhmm,” he hums.

“Kinda seems like it sometimes,” you confess.

“Yeah?”

“You kinda glow,” you answer.

“Optical illusion, sweets,” he grins.

“I don’t know, you’ve always kinda been that way. Glowy…” you offer, feeling a little hazy.

“You flirting with me now?” he asks, his lips turning up into a grin.

“No,” you growl, “Can I not give you a compliment?”

“Absolutely. Please do continue, I’m quite enjoying it,” he laughs, throwing his arm across the back of the couch. His fingertips brush your shoulder and you shudder at the contact.

“Has it been that long, darling?”

“What?” you question, turning to meet his eyes. His fingers graze against your skin again, goosebumps rising to the surface.

“Oh, say it isn’t so, baby. Break my heart,” he whines.

“What, Josh?”

“You’re touch starved aren’t you sweetness,” he says, his eyes searching yours.

“No, I’m fine,” you lie. You look away, knowing he was always able to read you like a book.

“Look at me, Y/N,” he snaps. You turn your head and meet his eyes again. “Don’t lie to me again. You know that never went well for you.”

You bite your lips together as your cheeks grow red hot. Part of you wants to push him a little more, force him to make good on his threat. The other part of you knows you should leave before he sucks you in.

“Tell me how long,” he says, resting his hand on the curve of your neck.

You blow out a breath and shake your head, “It’s not important,” you answer.

“Is to me, always important to me,” he urges.

“Why do you want to know?”

“I want to know that you were being taken care of,” he pauses, “I don’t think that’s a crime.”

“It’s been… a minute,” you confess.

“Baby,” he breathes.

“It’s fine, Josh. Really.”

“It’s not,” he snaps. “How long, love? You can tell me. It’s just me.”

“God! Since we split! Okay?! Is that what you want to hear?! That I haven’t fucked anyone since you?!” you shout, burying your head in your hands. You feel his hand rest on your back, warm and firm.

“Oh, my love. No wonder you’re so feisty. Wound up tighter than a two dollar watch. My girl needs a little relief, doesn’t she,” he asks.

You turn your head in your hands to look at him, his face serious and dripping with lust. You push yourself up off of the couch, pacing around the living room.

“I don’t want your pity, Josh.”

“It’s not pity darling, you’d know if it was,” he retorts.

“Well whatever it is, I don’t want it,” you snap.

He blows out a deep breath and clears his throat, “I’ve had just about enough of your mouth tonight,” he growls. “Why don’t you come back over here and try again, yeah?”

You stare at him from across the room, arms crossed over your chest in an effort to conceal your nipples that have grown hard just from the demanding quality of his voice.

“You can drop the act, I know you want me just as bad as I want you. If you want me to beg, crawl on my hands and knees for you, you know I’ll do it, but I think your body is begging for me harder than I ever could.”

You roll your eyes, and look away.

“Am I wrong? Tell me I’m wrong.”

You huff out a breath, “No,” you whisper.

“What’s that?”

“I said no,” you answer.

A smirk pulls across his lips, “No, what?”

You feel your chest grow warm and you swallow thickly, “No, sir.”

He clicks his tongue, “Don’t call me sir, that's my brother. Try again, love.”

“No, baby,” you breathe.

“That’s better. Much better. Come back over here,” he says, motioning you over with two fingers.

He reaches for your hand as you approach him, pulling you down onto his lap. Your legs fall to either side of his hips as you straddle him, the position feeling familiar and comforting.

“There’s my girl,” he growls, leaning forward to place his drink on the coffee table. His hands move to grip at your hips, holding you in place as he sinks a little further beneath you. It would be a lie if you said you weren’t enjoying this, feeling his hands on you and the evidence of his want as it grew beneath you.

“Not yours, Josh,” you say, letting your hands land on his chest.

“Liar,” he breathes, rolling his hips into you, eliciting a whine from your chest. You hear him laugh, “Your body says otherwise.”

“My body has never been able to say no to you,” you admit.

“And that's what I love about it, baby. Mine even when you aren’t.”

A sigh falls from your lips as his thumb drags over your lips, “Kiss me, Josh,” you beg.

A grin pulls across his lips as he pulls you by the back of your neck towards him. His soft, warm lips brush yours just slightly, enough to pull a whine from your chest.

“Now who’s begging?” he murmurs. Your eyes meet his, dark and lust filled before he crashes his lips to yours. His hands grip at your head as if he’s afraid you might fly away, his fingers twisting into your hair.

His tongue slides against yours, the taste of him so sweet and familiar. There would never be anyone that tasted better, you were sure of it. His hands slid down your face and over your shoulders, reaching for your hands as they sat on his chest. He wrapped his hands around yours, linking his fingers with yours the best he could, just holding you in a way you’ve desperately missed over the last year without him.

“Josh…” you breathe.

His lips break away from yours, his cheeks pink and his lips glossy, “Yeah, baby?”

You hesitate asking your question, momentarily debating whether you truly want to know or not, but you know if this night is going to continue, you have to know.

“How long…” you pause, “How long for you?” It comes out breathless, his warm hands in yours as his lips hover over yours.

He pulls back a touch, licking his lips and swallowing harshly, “A month or two,” he answers honestly.

Your traitorous eyes fill with tears and you do your best to blink them away. You drop your head in an effort to conceal your emotions, knowing this is all entirely your fault to begin with. His hand releases yours and grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“They were never you. Not a single one of them could ever be you.”

You nod your head and swallow the lump in your throat, “Then why?”

“It’s been a year, baby. I never thought I’d have you again,” he confesses.

“But you want me?” you ask, just wanting to hear him say it.

“Is that not clear? Of course I want you. I never stopped wanting you. You stopped wanting me.”

You shake your head, “I didn’t. I swear I didn’t, I just– It was too hard, I couldn’t do it anymore. It hurt too much.”

He grabs your face in his hands again, holding eye contact with you. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. I know I messed up. I’ve thought of it every single day since you left. I’m so sorry.”

You can see it in his eyes that he means it this time. The urgency in his voice and the trembling of his hands against your face prove it. You decide at that moment to cast the memories of the past to the wind and fall headfirst into him, the way you’ve dreamt of for months.

You press your lips to his, smiling, “Tequila always did make you all mushy, baby.”

A smile pulls across his lips as he stands from the couch, wrapping his arms around your thighs as he makes his way to the stairs. His lips connect to your jaw, peppering kisses up and down your neck with every step he takes.

It’s seconds before you’re tossed onto the bed. The bed you’ve missed so terribly. The bed that smells of him and his linen sheets. You melt into the comforter, your body relaxing almost immediately. Your eyes close and all you can hear is the shedding of clothes across the room, and the tinkling of beads as Josh places his necklace on the dresser.

You feel his hand as it comes to rest on your foot, sliding up the length of your body and stopping just as it reaches the hem of your dress. You sit up on your elbows to look at him, standing at the end of the bed in his boxers.

His gaze is fixed upon you, devouring your every inch.

“Joshy?” you breathe.

He drops his head for a second before looking back at you, “God I haven’t heard that in so long,” he whines. “What sweetness?”

“Come lay down with me,” you ask.

He licks his lips and crawls onto the bed, laying down next to you and resting his hand on your hip. “Hi beautiful.”

“Hi baby,” you whisper, rolling towards him. You lay your head on his shoulder, listening to his heart as it pounds erratically in his chest.

“I missed this bed,” you whisper against his skin.

“I missed you in this bed,” he pauses, “Terribly lonely without you.”

“Not too lonely it sounds like,” you tease, sitting up and stepping off of the bed.

“Baby, I–”

“I’m kidding, Josh. I don’t mind. Well, not completely anyway.”

You pull the zipper on the back of your dress, letting it fall to the floor and instinctively kicking it to the chair at the side of the bed like you'd done a thousand times before.

“So you care a little?” he smirks, taking in the sight of your matching lingerie. “Jesus, was that for him?”

“If all went well,” you answer cheekily, crawling back onto the bed.

“Over my dead body,” he growls, grabbing your arm and pulling you to lay on top of him.

“It was for me. I needed a little confidence boost.”

“Baby, what? Why? You were always so confident and cool,” he asks, furrowing his brow.

“Not lately… A few failed dates will do that to you I guess,” you admit.

“No, no no no no. Don’t let a few pricks dull your glow, sweetness. You’re everything. They’d be lucky to have you.”

You push up off of him, crawling backwards down the bed as you place a few errant kisses across his stomach. Your eyes never leave his as you stop above his waistband, sliding your nails against the elastic.

“What if I never wanted them,” you ask.

He sucks in a breath as your finger dips beneath the band, slightly tugging at the fabric.

“What do you want?” he asks, his eyes searching yours.

You pull his boxers over his hips watching his cock spring free to slap against his groin. You take him in your hand, watching as his face twists up in pleasure.

“Tell me,” he growls through gritted teeth.

Instead of answering him you let your tongue lick a hot stripe from his base to his tip, tasting the bitter sweetness of his precum on your tongue. His core tightens as you take him into your mouth, swirling your tongue against his length, feeling every vein and the rapid pulse pounding through him.

His hand finds the side of your face, tucking your hair behind your ear as he watches you take him down so easily, remembering exactly how he likes it. You grip his base as you work him, hollowing your cheeks as you eyes meet his. His lips are parted, a heavy breath leaving his chest as his grip on your hair tightens. You take him farther, swallowing around his tip as he nudges the back of your throat, sending him spiraling in his own bliss.

“Fuck, baby, please…” he begs.

You pop off of him, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his length. “Please what?”

“Please let me fuck you,” he asnwers, panting as he desperately awaits your mouths return to him.

“I’m kind of enjoying myself here,” you tease, taking him into your throat again.

“Fucking hell, you’re so goddamn sexy. I fucking– I–” he stammers, groaning as you swallow around him again.

“You think of this, baby? You miss sucking my cock? My good fucking girl,” he asks, jerking his hips up off of the bed. “You think of me like I think of you?”

You groan as your tongue swirls at his tip, letting your eyes meet his.

“Answer me,” he demands.

You pull off of him quickly, a spit covered mess, “Yes, yes baby,” you whine.

“Missed your mouth, your perfect fucking mouth. Your lips, your tongue, everything,” he growls, a moan leaving his chest as you suction your mouth around him. “Pull off baby, not yet. Not ready yet.”

You do as you're told, pulling off of him and wiping your lips on the back of your hand. He grabs your chin and pulls you toward him, his wet cock laying against your panties. His lips meet yours, swollen and pink and still glistening with your spit. He’s desperate to taste you, to devour you completely. You feel his hands slide over your waist and up to your bra, unclasping the hooks and pulling the straps from your arms. He pulls it from between you in one move, before turning you to your back to take in the sight of you.

His eyes practically bulge from his head as he looks at you. “You– You pierced your nipples? When did you? Wha– Fucking Christ.”

A smile spreads across your face. It's not very often you can catch Josh off guard like this, so you’re taking this small victory.

“About seven months ago, on a whim,” you answer.

“Anything else I should know about before I have a stroke?” he laughs.

“Why don’t you just find out?” you say playfully, just wanting to see his reaction.

He pulls the elastic of your panties over your hips, tossing the lacy garment to the floor. His tongue darts out over his lips as he looks at you, as if deciding where he wants to start. Though, you knew Josh, and he would forever be a victim to his own fascination with shiny objects.

His lips wrap around your nipple, his tongue gently flicking over the golden barbell. You lace your fingers into his curls, scratching at his roots as his teeth graze the sensitive bud in his mouth.

“Josh,” you whine, arching your back beneath him.

“Mhmm,” he whines, not letting his lips detach from you.

“Missed your touch,” you answer.

He pulls off of your right breast and kisses his way to your left, treating your left nipple with the same reverence as the previous. You grab his hand and pull his fingers to your lips, sucking his first two digits into your mouth and letting your tongue twist against them.

You hear him groan against you, the sensation becoming a little too overwhelming for him.

“You okay, baby?”

He pulls off of you, still staring down at the shiny gold bars adorning your nipples.

“No, fuck no, I’m never gonna stop thinking about these,” he says through a pant.

A laugh bubbles up from your chest as his hand meets your chest, sliding down your stomach and stopping at your hip.

“You gonna let me in, sweetness?” he asks, biting at his bottom lip.

A smirk pulls at your lips as you look at him, nodding gently. His hand slides down further, his fingers dusting across your folds. Your body quivers at his gentle touch, a small grin of satisfaction on his lips.

“You want it?”

“Stop teasing, Josh,” you whine.

“I’m sorry, baby. I know you need it. I’ll give you what you want. You know that, right?”

You nod furiously, just wanting him to touch you. Needing it more than anything. “Yes, yes, I know. Please…”

He bends forward and presses a kiss to your stomach, two fingers sinking into your wetness. You jerk towards him as his fingertips press to your clit, a whine escaping your lips before you can stop it. He hums as his fingers start to circle through your wetness, his lip bitten firmly between his teeth. His eyes are dark as they stare into yours, watching your every move and memorizing every expression.

“You feel so good, baby. Missed this so bad,” he breathes, teasing your entrance.

“You could have had anyone,” you whisper.

“I didn’t want anyone. Just you.”

His fingers dip into you, finding the place they once knew so well. Your hand moves to rest on his bicep, stronger now than they once were, the muscle rounded and defined. In fact, all of him is that way. Lean and fit, stronger and more chiseled. The thought alone makes you clench around his fingers.

“Yeah?”

“You feel so– so different. Stronger,” you say.

“Needed something to fill the time,” he smiles, curling his fingers inside of you. You cry out in bliss as your stomach starts to tighten.

“So good, baby,” you cry.

“Yeah, you gonna come for me? You gonna come right on my fingers, so needy and sweet,” he urges. His fingers are moving rapidly, working you toward your release better than you could have imagined.

“Ease into it, baby. Don’t rush it. I’m right here, not going anywhere. I’m yours,” he says, his voice soft and comforting.

Your eyes meet his, desperate and lust filled, “Mine?”

He nods his head quickly, “Yours,” he pauses, “If you want, I just– I’m here, okay? Take your time, feel it. Breathe it in, savor it. I’m here.”

“I want it,” you plead.

“Have it, have me,” he breathes.

His fingers move at a relentless pace, fingertips massaging into you with such precision it’s like a year never passed. Your chest grows hot and your stomach tightens as his eyes meet yours, both of you knowing you’re on the edge of release.

“Do it. Take it baby,” he growls.

“Josh,” you whine, reaching for his hand and twisting your fingers with his. His grip is tight on you, grounding you the way you need him to.

With another flick of his thumb across your clit, you’re sent spiraling into your release. You’d never been able to replicate the way it feels when it's by his hand, and you were sure no other man could. His hand slows as your eyes open, finding his full of desire as they stare back at you.

He grins as he presses a kiss to your mound, slowly pulling his fingers from inside you. Your body is shaking with adrenaline, the want for him coursing through you like never before. You need him. You need him now.

“Josh, now,” you pant, your chest still heaving as you catch your breath.

He doesn’t hesitate. There are no witty remarks, no jokes, no playful banter at all. Just the need the two of you share for each other taking center stage. He pushes up and crawls up towards you, falling into the space between your legs. He pushes them further apart with his knees, fisting at his base as he stares at you. You swear you can see his heart pounding in his chest, and you know he needs this as badly as you do.

He lowers himself down to you, brushing his tip through your folds. Your hands come up to his face, cradling his cheeks as you press your lips to his. It's different this time, a little less desperate, more intentional. He lets himself slowly sink inside of you as his lips dance with yours, filling you so fully and so completely, the way he always had.

He bottoms out inside of you, sliding his arm beneath your hips to pull you in close. His eyes meet yours in question and you nod, letting him know you need more. He begins to slowly move his hips, rolling into you at a fairly gentle pace, soaking in every inch of you and savoring every sound that falls from your lips.

Your hands wrap around his waist, pulling him in tighter, desperate for all of him. He groans as your chest presses against his, the coolness of the metal bars against his warm, dewy skin pulling a groan from his chest.

“Baby,” he whines, snapping his hips into you a little harder.

“Josh,” you answer, more of a moan.

“I need this,” he says, moving his hand to cradle your jaw. “I need you.”

“I know, baby,” you cry out, “I know. I need you, too. I fucking need you.”

He groans as he drops his head, letting his lips connect with your neck. His hot tongue slides against your skin before he sucks the skin into a fresh pink bite. His pace quickens, his skin slick with sweat as he pounds into you.

“Tell me that you think someone could fuck you better than this,” he growls.

“Fuck, no. No one. No one but you, Josh. I only want you,” you answer, gripping your fingers into his ass.

His demeanor changes, he’s grown animalistic, grunts and groans falling from his lips as he nears the peak of his release.

“Tell me that you don’t love me anymore,” he demands.

“Josh, I–”

“Say it,” he barks.

“I do! I do love you! You know I still fucking love you!” you cry, feeling the coil tighten in your groin.

A cry falls from his chest, echoing around the room as his lips crash to yours. It's rough and desperate, and you know you just told him everything he’s been waiting to hear.

“I fucking love you, Y/N,” he pants, “Don’t you ever fucking leave me again.”

You nod your head desperately, needing to feel his lips on yours again. His strokes start to quicken, hitting you long and deep as you both teeter on the edge of your orgasm. The wet sounds dancing through the air are deafening, and the heat of his breath on your face has you dizzy.

“Josh, baby,” you whine, knowing you won't last much longer.

“Yeah? Yeah you gonna come again? Bloom like a pretty flower just for me?” he urges, knowing the sound of his voice will push you over the edge. He nods his head, and bites his bottom lip as he watches you, squirming and panting beneath him as his cock hits you right where it belongs.

“Come on sweetness, be my pretty flower, come for me,” he whispers against your lips.

His hand cups at your breast as his fingers brush your piercing, letting his thumb and forefinger pinch at your nipple. The sensation is enough to bring you to the brink, letting you dive headfirst into your release. You cry out beneath him, his name falling from your lips in succession.

“Just like that, my love. I’m here, I’ve got you,” he says, pulling you closer to him as his hips continue to work you through it. “I’m there sweetheart, tell me where.”

“You know where, I’m yours,” you plead.

He snaps his hips into you again, holding you in place as he spills inside of you, the most beautiful noises falling from his lips. He comes down, loosening his grip on your hips as he falls slack on top of you. Your arms wrap around him, your hand drifting up into his sweaty curls as he catches his breath.

“I mean it,” he breathes, “I do love you.” He props his head up on your chest, letting his eyes meet yours.

“You know I love you, Josh.”

He cranes his neck forward and kisses you again, and you can almost feel the smile on his lips. “Does this mean you’ll come home? Let me love you again?”

“Is that you asking me?” you tease.

“I’ll call the movers right now,” he taunts.

“You forgive me for leaving you in the first place?” you ask, a hint of nervousness in your voice.

“I deserved it. I know what I lost.”

“I keep my apartment,” you counter.

“But you’ll be with me when I’m here?” he asks with questioning eyes.

“If that’s what you want,” you answer.

“No more dates with assholes who don’t deserve you?” he smirks.

“No more dates, just you,” you nod.

“I’ll do it right this time, give you everything. I promise.”

His lips press to yours, soft and sweet and barely there, sealing his promise and setting your heart aflame. He rolls off of you, laying next to you as close as he can get.

“You said I’m your flower,” you pause, “What kind?”

He pulls you into his side, hitching your leg up over his waist. “Hmm, a poppy perhaps? A bright red one, maybe orange.”

You giggle at the fact he has picked such an outlandish flower. “Why’s that?”

He turns his head to look at you and raises his eyebrow playfully, “The seeds are an opiate and can provide intense pleasure to the consumer, and you, my sweets, are certainly a drug to me.”

You roll your eyes and shove at his chest, feeling him pull you in tighter. He kisses your head and lets out a sigh.

“What about me, am I a flower, darling?”

“Of course you are,” you pause, looking at him. “Too easy, you’re Goldenrod.”

“Isn’t that a weed?” he laughs, running his fingertips against your bare thigh.

“Technically, but it’s beautiful. It’s wild and free and vibrant. Thrives in the warm sunshine and sways in the breeze. They’re made of gold, just like you,” you smile, flashing him a wink.

“Although, it is poisonous,” you add.

He rolls to face you completely, cupping your face in his hand as he smiles, “You know what they say…”

“What’s that,” you question.

“The worst poison always tastes the sweetest.”

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