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perlelune · 1 year ago

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Lucky | Rafe Cameron

For years, you had a crush on your best friend, one he never returned. You thought he'd be happy to see you move on. You couldn't be more wrong.

Warnings: NON-CON, Kook!Reader, Jealousy, Angst, Pining, Toxicity

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

Your lips curl skyward as you scroll through your phone. As you read every message it’s hard to refrain from kicking your feet and giggling as if you were back in middle school. It’s how he makes you feel. Giddy. Wanted. It’s your first time experiencing such feelings and you’ve been perched on a fluffy cloud all afternoon.

But remembering you aren’t alone, you try your best to keep a straight face. You’re in a bikini bottom and an oversized shirt by the Camerons’ pool. It’s a bright, sunny day, not a cloud in sight in the sky above Tannyhill.

The unforgiving, North Carolina heat has already melted the ice cubes in your drink. If it weren’t for the generous amounts of sunscreen you've applied earlier, you’d already be sunburnt from hours spent outside.

Rafe lifts his sunglasses from the edge of the pool, curiosity dancing in his blue eyes.

“You’ve been glued to your phone all afternoon, princess.”

You suppress your smile. Feigning nonchalance, you flip your phone down for good measure.

“I have not.”

“Have too,” he counters, in the exact same way he used to utter those words when you argued back and forth as kids.

He hauls himself out of the pool. You’re graced with the sight of Rafe stepping out of the water, droplets glistening over his broad, toned chest, defined abs and thick, bulging arms. He’s been going especially hard at the gym since summer began. It shows. Your best friend now looks like a breathing, walking Abercrombie ad. You wouldn’t be surprised if the brand gave him a call soon. Not that you’d tell him that. No need to blow up Rafe Cameron’s over-inflated ego even more.

As you watch him run his fingers through his drenched blonde locks, his golden ring glinting under the sunlight, pride flutters through you. Once upon a time, the sight of Rafe Cameron in nothing but his swim trunks would have had your heart racing and your entire body flush with shameful heat at how unbelievably attractive you found your best friend.

That was before. When you still clung to the crush you harbored for him for years.

You and Rafe have basically known each other your whole lives.

Since kindergarten specifically.

Back then, you were heavily bullied...and Rafe was the worst of them. He would tug your hair, pull your chair out before you could sit so you’d crash on the floor and call you mean names while other children cheered him on. It only stopped when you had a crying fit in front of him one day. The five year old was stumped. He spent the rest of the year apologizing and bringing a variety of gifts to you. You forgot about the mean things he did and said easily, won over by his determination to make you forgive him. A peculiar friendship blossomed from that. The two of you have been inseparable since then.

Years flew by.

Then one day Rafe came back to school walking and talking differently. He had filled out during summer break. He was broader, taller, his towering frame even allowing him to reach above your locker. All the girls noticed, including you. You started developing a little crush on him. One he never acknowledged.

He had a girl on his arm at every party, often disappearing with them upstairs. It wasn’t hard to guess what he was up to with those girls. For many years, you daydreamed about what it’d be like to be one of those girls. The girl that caught Rafe Cameron’s eye at a party. The one that would have his full, undivided attention. The one he’d flash a flirtatious grin at and undress with his gaze the entire night.

You wanted to be that girl more than you wanted to breathe.

He never treated you that way though. The two of you hung out all the time. You would play video games, smoke weed, drink the expensive Kentucky Bourbon he stole from his dad’s cabinet and talk about everything and nothing.

He would always joke that you were like a sister to him. And based on the amount of time you spent at the Camerons house, you might as well be a long lost relative.

Getting over Rafe Cameron had been tantamount to an exorcism. Loving him was so embedded into your flesh, tattooed onto your soul. It was all you knew. Rafe, Rafe, Rafe…

He was everything you longed for. Until he wasn’t.

It happened one year when you attended the Camerons’ new year’s eve party. You entered the living room and caught him making out with a gorgeous brunette on the balcony. As your heart broke, again, realization slipped through the crack. Pining for someone who doesn’t see you, never saw you, will lead you nowhere. Your suffering was of your own making…and you wanted to suffer no longer. Why fantasize about something that will never come? You’d rather look to the future.

So you chose to move on.

As fireworks set the night sky above Tannyhill aflame, the last embers of your longing for Rafe Cameron flickered out.

It’s how you wound up giving dating apps a try. Talking to guys in real life is nerve-wracking but online, you find it much easier. While most conversations you had fizzled out quickly… Garrett has been different. He’s never tried to pretend with you and has been nothing but sweet and inquisitive about your hobbies, hopes and dreams. You’ve talked to him for hours on the phone and he’s made you laugh and smile a countless number of times. As for the icing on the cake…He’s been clear about wanting more than a hookup. He even suggested the two of you should meet up in person soon.

“What got you smiling like that anyway?” Rafe says, tossing the towel around his neck.

“Nothing,” you reply with a shrug.

“If it’s nothing, you can show me.”

He tries to swipe your phone but you’re faster. You rise from your chair and pick it up before he can take it.

His eyes narrow.

“I thought we had no secret for each other,” he says, an accusation laced in his tone. He’s never liked you keeping things from him, no matter how small or insignificant.

“We don’t.”

He gives a slow nod. Then he smiles. And you suppose it should have been your warning, that you should have seen it coming. But you don’t see anything coming. His hand shoots out and he shoves you aside.

He plucks your phone from you like it’s nothing, using his height to keep it out of reach.

“Rafe! Give me my phone back,” you urge.

He makes no effort to abide by your request, glowering at the screen while scrolling.

“Who the hell is Garrett?”

“J-Just a guy I started talking to on this app...” Your voice dwindles as you cower under Rafe's hard gaze.

Disgust scrunches his handsome face.

“I thought you deleted those dating apps. We talked about this.”

You did talk about it. After a dispiriting streak of bad luck on these apps, he wheedled you to delete all of them. Rafe said all the guys on these apps wanted was to use you for a quick, meaningless fuck. That you were too gullible and would just be taken advantage of. He said that you deserved better and the right guy would come along eventually. You found yourself believing him. A lot of time, you ended up ghosted or the guys failed to show up anyways. It made you question what is so repulsive about you that made guys steer clear.

“I wanted to try again.”

“Well Garrett’s a douchebag name. I don’t like him for you.” He snickers. “Look at that. He’s playing you and his game isn’t even good. You’re really falling for this corny shit, princess?”

He starts reading some of the compliments Garrett paid you aloud, drawing a round of guffaws from Kelce and Topper.

Your cheeks come ablaze.

“Now you’re just being mean,” you lament, using a lapse of distraction to retrieve your phone.

Gulping the tears threatening to spill, you rush back inside. Kelce’s taunting voice echoes behind you.

“Guess that one got past you, huh, Rafe?”

“Shut your mouth, bro,” Rafe snaps angrily.

You lean on the counter and gather your breath. The tears subside. You remind yourself that this is just how Rafe can be. Callous. Inconsiderate.

It’s not who he really is.

It’s just a bit hard to recall when he has those moments. Those aggressively insensitive moments.

You open the fridge and grab a cool drink. Your throat is parched and you could use one.

When you pivot, you nearly spill the can.

Rafe’s towering frame impedes your path.

“You scared me, Rafe,” you say, unleashing a tremulous exhale.

He studies you, concern glimmering in his ocean gaze.

“I wasn’t trying to make you cry, I swear.” He shrugs and scratches the back of his neck. “I just meant he sounds like an asshole.”

“You’re an asshole,” you say, bumping into his arm as you sidle past him.

His brows draw together. He isn’t used to you addressing him that way. With anything other than sweetness dripping from your tongue.

You can tell he’s reeling at that alone. Getting the tiniest taste of his own medicine…from you of all people.

He approaches you as you swallow a sip of your drink.

“Ouch. I’m just looking out for you, princess.” His fingers slot beneath your chin. “You know that’s all I ever try to do, right?”

He flashes you a charming smile. That smile you could never resist. It used to be your Achilles’ heel. Despite your changing feelings, Rafe still possesses the uncanny ability to make you forget why you were even mad at him in the first place. Like right now.

Your shoulders sag.

“I know.”

Blue eyes dive into yours.

“I want to meet him.”

You retreat, your brows knitting.

“Meet him, why?”

“I want to make sure he’s good enough for you.”

“I can decide that myself.”

He snorts, his focus darting away before returning to you.

“You’ve never known what’s good for you.” You flinch. “I can’t believe you didn’t even tell me you were talking to someone. I tell you everything. Shit, guess I’m an idiot, huh?” His jaw clenches. “...Cause I thought you did too.”

You inch closer to him and wrap your fingers around his forearm.

“Rafe, I’m sorry, okay.” You gnaw on your bottom lip. “It’s just that…”

“Just that what?”

You pause, mulling over how to best word what you mean to say.

Your voice comes out a bashful whisper, your eyes clinging to the floor.

“Every time I’ve told you I liked a guy, it’s never worked out for some reason. It’s probably my fault but…I just didn’t want to jinx it this time.” You nervously swing your gaze back to him. “I figured if I keep it to myself I don’t have to get my hopes up.” You can’t quell the smile that fights its way onto your lips. “Garrett and I are just seeing where it goes right now. So…things are good.”

“Oh, it’s Garrett and I, now?” he sneers.

“Rafe, don’t be like this,” you beseech, squeezing his arm. “You’ll always be my best friend; you know that.” You shift in your spot, your tone pitching with hope as you ask, “Can’t you just be happy for me?”

He stares at you a long time, so long that his eyes on you grow unnerving. After a while, he releases a deep exhale.

Ignoring your question, he steps back from you.

“I’m gonna go take a shower,” he announces.

“Rafe?”

You never get a response, his form vanishing down the hallway. A sigh ripples through your lips as you lean against the counter. Why is he being so difficult about this? It’s not like you’re not seeing him with a new girl every other week. You never batted an eyelash. You even encouraged him to seriously date some of them, the ones who seemed to sincerely like him and reminded you of yourself back in the day.

You’ve always cheered him on no matter what. So it baffles you that he can’t return the favor. Crushes you even.

For the rest of the week, you don’t hear much from Rafe. He pretty much ignores you and even leaves you on read after you send him a string of pleading messages, which is your cue that you wounded his feelings somehow. You surmise Rafe isn’t used to your attention veering towards someone else. Perhaps he’s miffed at the prospect that getting a boyfriend means you won’t hang out as much anymore, that he’ll have to share you. Your friendship’s been a fixture in both of your lives for so many years. The one unwavering, steadfast foundation nothing could topple. Whatever occured in his life or yours, you’ve always had each other.

Change can be scary.

But you don’t plan on neglecting the bond you have with Rafe just because you’re dating someone. He’ll always be in your life. He’ll always matter to you. It's what you meant to tell him. What you would tell him if only he bothered replying to your texts or answering your calls.

Rafe has always teased you for bartending at the Island Club. In his eyes, you’re much too Kook for what he calls a ‘Pogue job’. But you enjoy it. There is a certain comfort in having things you earned through your own hard work and not your parents’ money.

…Though you can’t deny you might not have landed this position if not for your dad’s close friendship with the owner of the private club. You’re also painfully aware you don’t get yelled at or scolded for making mistakes as much as other employees.

And on days like today, after you end your shift, Rafe has never failed to pick you up in his Jeep.

He’s never missed a day. Which is why you wear a dumbfounded expression as you note the glaring absence of the familiar black car in front of the country club. It takes you a while to accept and realize the cold, hard truth. Rafe isn’t coming to pick you up today.

It’s not the end of the world, of course. But it still makes your heart ache that he’d ditch like that without so much as an apology or heads-up. You feel kicked in the gut.

You try to call him but it goes straight to voicemail. Resigned, you resort to calling for back-up.

Sarah shows up in her truck with a bright smile.

“Get in loser, we’re going shopping,” she quips, winking at you.

You climb inside the passenger seat.

“Thanks for coming, S.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Since the oldest of the Camerons is currently denying your very existence, you figured you might as well call the Kook Princess herself to the rescue. His sister, Sarah Cameron.

“I brought snacks so I better get a five-star review,” she jests, wiggling her eyebrows. She tosses you a bag of M&M’s that you gleefully tear open. “Doesn’t Rafe usually pick you up after work?”

The sugar melting on your tongue sweetens the bitter taste of abandonment.

“Well, he’s sulking, so…” you mumble around a mouthful of candy.

“Sulking?” Shock colors her tone. “I don’t think there’s anything you could do to make my brother mad. You’re like the only person he’s not a complete jerk around.”

“Well, he was one last time we talked.”

Sarah arches a puzzled brow.

You sigh and explain, “I started dating someone…Actually, we’re still at the talking stage, but…I didn’t tell him.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Nothing. Forget I said anything,” she dismisses cryptically.

Her peculiar tone peeves you.

“I’m not gonna forget, Sarah.”

Her shoulders rise and fall.

“It’s not my place to say. It’s between you and Rafe.” She throws you a cautious glance, marking a brief pause before inquiring, “You’re not still in love with my brother, are you?”

Heat creeps inside your cheeks.

“I was n-never in love with Rafe,” you stammer. Inwards, you’re screaming. Was it that obvious at the time?

Sarah’s plump lips quirk in a lopsided smile.

“Sure.”

Gratitude fills you. You’d rather leave this can of worms permanently closed. Lid tightly sealed and all. And the can tossed at the bottom of a lake. It’s embarrassing enough that you mooned over Rafe for as long as you did.

At least you find comfort in the fact that you’re over him now.

“You mind if we stop for ice cream on the way?” Sarah asks, adjusting her rearview mirror.

“No. I could go for one myself. This heat is killing me.”

“Cool.”

For the rest of the week, Rafe continues to dole out the silent treatment. You allow his childish antics to chafe you to a point. Then you elect to not let it bother you anymore. He can throw a tantrum if he wishes. You’ve done nothing wrong and you’re growing weary of being treated like you have.

For over fifteen years, you’ve been a great friend to Rafe, listening to him rant whenever he needed an ear, making time for him whenever he requested it. The fact he’s being a dick right now is staggering.

He frankly has no right.

After everything the two of you have been through, you hoped for more from him. While you’re aware he can be a jackass, you thought it was different when it came to you. That you were different. You suppose you were wrong.

Friday comes around and with it arrives the excitement of the plans you have for the night. Garrett asked you out on a date at a fancy seafood restaurant. It’ll be your first time meeting him in person. You’ve been looking forward to it the entire week.

As you’re putting the final touches to your makeup in front of the vanity mirror, your phone flashes with a request for a facetime call.

You swipe towards the green icon to accept the call.

Rafe’s face fills your screen.

“Hey, princess. I thought we could talk-”

“I’m kind of busy right now. Rain check tomorrow?”

“Busy doing what?” He squints, seeming to register your attire. A brand new sundress you purchased with your tips from the Island Club. You paired it with wedge heels. You also switched your hairstyle to something more sophisticated for the night. “W-What the hell are you wearing? Where are you even going dressed like that?”

You heave out a deep sigh.

“Good night, Rafe.”

You tap the screen to end the call.

A rush of power floods your insides. You hung up on him. This is your first time doing that, hanging up on Rafe Cameron himself.

Still, a sliver of guilt lingers alongside your pride. You quell it swiftly. You can’t be at his beck and call your entire life. Tonight’s about you. For once, you’d like to put your needs before Rafe’s.

Garrett comes to your house some time later. He has flowers in his arms. You soak in their scent for a few minutes. No one’s ever given you flowers before. It makes you feel special.

As he opens the door of his truck for you, he whistles in admiration.

“Wow,” he says, his gaze dragging over your frame.

Your skin warms at the attention, the kind you aren’t used to receiving.

Fiddling with the flowy sleeve of your sundress, you inquire, “Am I what you expected?”

A besotted smile spreads on his lips.

“You’re even more beautiful in person.”

“Thank you.”

You peer at him. His pictures don’t do him justice.

“You look very handsome. I like your shirt.”

His cheeks redden at your praise.

You get inside his car. The two of you exchange casual chatter on the way to the restaurant. You’re amazed at how easy talking to him is. You’re a little shy but his clear interest in you helps you slowly climb out of your shell.

Once you arrive at the restaurant, you’re escorted to your table. The light conversation resumes its flow, the two of you growing even more comfortable with each other. You like how intently he listens to you, even if his intense eye contact makes you wrestle the urge to look away. You nibble your lip as you peruse the menu. Mirth sways in Garett’s brown orbs when your stomach growls. You mumble an apology under your breath and he beams at you. You’ve been so anxious about the date for the whole day, you’ve forgotten to eat.

A familiar voice erupts from behind you.

“Well, look who it is. What a coincidence.”

You whirl, a gasp bursting from your throat.

“Rafe? What are you doing here?”

He stands besides you and Garrett’s table, his arm slung around a gorgeous redhead’s shoulders. It occurs to you haven’t seen him with that one before. Though you reckon Rafe rarely does repeat encounters.

What shocks you more however is his very presence here. Of all places, Rafe and the girl he’s with could have been tonight, it has to be the exact same location of your first date with Garrett.

What are the odds?

However, you recall that with the assistance of the friend-finding app both you and Rafe have on your phones in case of emergencies, figuring out your whereabouts would be about the easiest thing.

Would Rafe go that far just because you wouldn’t yield to his whims one time? Would he truly be that selfish?

The shit-eating grin unfurling on his face answers all your questions.

“Well, I heard this was a good spot so I thought…” Rafe’s brows furrow as he waves his hand before the girl’s face, appearing to struggle remembering her name.

“Jessica,” she finishes for him, disappointment decorating her pretty features.

He beams at her.

“Right. I thought that Jessica and I could check it out.”

He plops down next to you, forcing you to make space for him on the upholstered booth seat. Meanwhile his date sits next to Garrett.

“You mind, princess?”

Awkwardness fills the air. The heavy tension sits on your throat as Rafe makes himself more comfortable, going as far as spreading his legs.

You scold him with your gaze, all but spelling out ‘Yes, I do mind indeed’.

You clear your throat and shift your stance, resenting how every tiny motion has your thigh grazing against his.

“Actually I…We’re kind of on a date, Rafe.”

He places his arm on the wooden edge above your head, his smile expanding.

“So are we. So why not double date?”

“I don’t mind,” Garrett offers as he takes in your concerned expression. “You two…know each other, right?”

You open your mouth to speak but before words can pour from it, Rafe wraps his arm around you.

“Best friends. She and I go way back. Isn’t that right, princess?”

His intense blue eyes settle on you. You swallow the lump in your throat. Anger can’t begin to describe how upset you are with Rafe right now for crashing your date, but you also don’t want to cause a scene, make things even worse than they already are.

So you force a smile on your lips and nod.

“Y-Yeah, we do.”

Throughout the night, Rafe’s presence causes the date’s slow descent into a nightmare. Every time Garrett tries to strike up a conversation with you, Rafe interjects, his comments toeing the line between innocently inconsiderate and outright rude. He never lets the two of you have a moment, interrupting whenever Garrett looks at you for more than half a second. You grow weary of his antics. So does Rafe’s date. You can see the pretty redhead in front of him growing frustrated as he treats her as if she were a potted plant.

She ends up leaving the table to go to the bathroom but never returns. It doesn’t shock you. If someone inflicted upon you what Rafe has to the poor girl the entire night, you might take your leave as well.

By the time dessert comes, you’re on the cusp of tears. This is not how you envisioned your night going.

The awfulness doesn’t stop there.

When it’s time to part ways, Garrett finds his truck in an unfortunate state.

He curses under his breath as he hunkers down in front of his car.

“Some punk sliced my tires.”

In the back, Rafe shakes his head.

“Damn, tough luck. Guess I’ll have to drive you home, princess.”

You scowl at Rafe before placing a hand on Garrett’s arm. He’s already on his phone to contact someone to help move his truck.

“I could wait with you,” you say softly.

“It’s fine,” he replies. “Just go home. We’ll text, okay?”

Your tone turns contrite. “Okay. I’m so sorry… about everything.”

“Don’t worry about it. I still had a good time.”

“Me too.”

Despite his assurance, you aren’t too hopeful he’ll want to see you again. You know this wasn’t what he had in mind for the night. And neither did you.

You reluctantly trail behind Rafe, looking daggers at him when he opens the door of his black Volvo for you.

Not an ounce of guilt lurks on his handsome face, which tosses more fuel on the flames of your ire.

You don’t utter a word, almost too angry to speak. The last shred of your patience fizzled out in the restaurant, as your so-called best friend basked in your misery, getting a kick out of making a mockery of your night.

If you talk, it won’t be to have a calm, level-headed conversation with Rafe. It’ll be to spew venom at him.

As he parks into the driveway of your house, he lets go of the steering wheel and says, “You’re mad at me, aren’t you?”

You draw a long, slow breath.

“You think?” you snap icily. You jump out of the truck and slam the door closed.

Rafe follows you to your doorstep. You fumble with the lock. Your fingers quiver so much, you can’t even open the door. After a few unsuccessful tries jamming the keys inside the lock, Rafe takes them from you. He opens the door and you stomp inside.

You toss your clutch on a nearby table and whirl.

“What the hell, Rafe?” you shout. “You embarrassed me!”

His shoulders lift and slump.

“Well, you shouldn’t have been there to begin with.”

Disbelief rounds your gaze. “What?”

“You heard me. You shouldn’t have been on a date with him.”

Folding your arms, you scoff, “Right. Why is that?”

Rafe inches closer to you, his eyes locking with yours.

“Because you should have been on a date with me instead.”

A weary exhale drops from your chest. Rafe’s declared many things while hammered but this one takes the cake.

“I think you’re drunk,” you dismiss. “You need to go home, Rafe.”

Rafe’s jaw ticks.

“My mind is perfectly clear, okay? If you’ll just listen to me-”

“Go home, Rafe.”

You nearly turn your back on him but Rafe’s sturdy hand fastens around your arm, yanking you back.

He takes a long pause, drinking you in.

Rafe takes a deep breath before confessing, “I love you. I’ve always loved you.” His throat bobs as he adds, “And I know you love me too.”

Your mouth tumbles open, shock snatching the very air from your lungs. You stare at Rafe. Perhaps you heard him wrong. In your wrath, his words may have landed in your ears a little warped.

But as you get lost in his sea gaze, the truth sinks into you. He is serious. Very serious.

A war of conflicting emotions breaks out inside you. For years, you longed to hear those words. But not like this. And the insinuation that he knew how you felt…That he let you suffer in silence while gallivanting around with those girls.

A fast surge of tears blurs your gaze.

“You knew?”

He cradles your face.

“I’ve always known.”

A shudder wracks through your frame.

“So w-why did you never say anything?”

“I figured you’d wait for me, that I could just have some fun. That it wasn’t a big deal.”

Ice fills your blood. Your tone becomes clipped, detached.

“I want you to leave.”

His hold on you doesn’t loosen, his cheek pulsing in frustration.

“Really? I tell you I love you after all this time and this is your response?”

“I haven’t had those feelings for you in years, Rafe. And right now…I don’t even like you as a person.” Rafe bristles at your blunt words, looking like you slapped him. Your mouth wobbles as you say, “You’re not who I thought you were. I want you out of my house and out of my life.”

Something shifts in his blue eyes. The air around you drops a few degrees as he pushes you further inside the room. Desperation lurks in his deep timbre.

“Come on, we can talk about this, princess.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Dread escalates within you when he doesn’t move. You’re hit with the daunting realization that you’re alone with Rafe, your parents away on a trip right now. Usually being alone with him wouldn’t have fazed you, may have ensconced you in a sense of security and comfort even. Not tonight. Tonight, you don’t recognize the Rafe standing in front of you. Your voice trickles out small and shaky. “R-Rafe, get out, I’m serious.”

His expression hardens. He shoves you into a nearby wall. You gasp as pain prickles along your back.

“Just admit that you love me too,” he roars.

“I don’t,” you whimper as water brims under your lashes.

This propels him to the brink. There’s no time to process anything, Rafe hoisting you with ease. As he takes long, determined strides to your bedroom, your fear grows. He hurls your body into the bed. He fiddles with the buttons of his khaki pants until they come loose. A scream builds inside your throat, refusing to break past your lips as you linger in bewilderment. Rafe isn’t doing what you think he’s doing…what he’s preparing to do. There's no way. He wouldn’t.

Stupor girdles your motions. For a while, you gape at Rafe. As he approaches the bed, adrenaline rushes through you. You remember how to move.

But it’s for naught. Rafe is quicker than you, catching you when you rise and slamming you back on the sheets. He crawls over you. His blue gaze glimmers strangely in the darkness. Streaks of moonlight pour between your half-draw curtains, casting ominous shadows over his broad frame.

He cages you beneath him, shushing you as you croak out pleas for him to stop.

“I know you’re lying,” he rasps, scattering sloppy kisses alongside your neck.

He yanks down your dress and your breath hitches.

“I’m not. I don’t-” Words wither on your tongue as he flicks his thumb over your nipple, his other hand patting underneath your dress. “I-I don’t love you anymore, Rafe.”

“I don’t believe you.”

His fist curls around the vee part of your thin lace panties, tugging roughly enough to tear the delicate material. You squeal as the lace dents your flesh when it rips.

Your heart bounces. You push against Rafe’s chest with newfound urgency.

“Rafe, stop.”

He snatches both of your wrists and traps them above your head. Helplessness chokes your airways as he pokes lightly at your entrance. He slides one finger between your walls and you keen, breath faltering at the abrupt intrusion. His lewd gaze remains trained on you as you squirm beneath him.

“Why do you keep lying, huh?” he accuses, forcing a moan from your throat when he curls his digit inside you. When your eyes squeeze shut in denial, he lets go of your wrist to frame your jaw.

A sob spills from your throat, your eyes flying open.

“Nah…I want you to look at me, princess,” he orders, jerking your head up so your gazes lock. You choke on your breath when he shoves a second finger inside you. He slowly drags his fingers in and out of you. Heat gathers in your core. You writhe against the sheets, resisting the urge to buck your hips to seek more of the friction. He grazes a uniquely sensitive spot and your lids quake, a soft whimper flying from your mouth. You clench around Rafe’s fingers and he unleashes a sigh of pleasure as you grip him. You feel him harden against you. Your stomach knots at the pressure. His eyes are glued to you, soaking every minute shift of expression while he pumps his fingers inside you.

“I know you never stopped loving me,” he whispers, the alcohol on his breath seeping through your senses. “Think I don’t see the way you look at me?”

As you near your undoing, he removes his fingers. You sag against the sheets. The sudden emptiness leaves you with a mix of emotions you’re too ashamed to admit.

He presses his thick tip against your dripping entrance, gathering your arousal when he runs it along your folds. He pushes in slowly, his eyes rolling back at the sensation of your velvety warmth welcoming him. You tense at the intrusion. Your fingers curl into the sheets. Rafe’s broad frame covers yours, his forehead resting against yours as he whispers, “Say you love me.”

When you don’t reply, he slams his cock inside you in one swift stroke. Your back curves, a quiet scream ripping from your throat. Your chest lifts and falls rapidly as Rafe’s thick girth fills you up completely.

He begins moving inside you, his pace relentless and unforgiving. While his length is splitting you apart, it’s hard to deny the warm tingles pulsing through your core, joining the pain in devious harmony.

You go limp on the bed, his thick cock stretching you more than ever before. Every time he grazes your sweet spots, you spiral further down, your thoughts melting in the flames consuming your body.

“Say it,” he grunts, his warm breath fanning over your face.

His bulging muscles coil beneath his clothes from the force he exerts to shove all of himself inside you. Heavy breaths drop from Rafe’s chest as your walls squeeze around him. Drenched locks of his dirty blond hair cling to his forehead, beads of sweat collecting between his furrowed brows and dripping to your parted lips.

When you remain silent, Rafe’s large hand wraps around your throat, his tone more firm and menacing than before as he snarls, “Say that you love me, princess.”

His fingers crush your windpipe until you give in.

You can barely eke the words out, every harsh snap of Rafe’s hips into yours filling your vision with stars.

“I l-love you, Rafe.”

The words ache as they part from your throat. A bitter truth you buried long ago, beneath thick layers of heartbreak and denial. One you hoped would never crawl its way back to the surface. One that hurts even more now, shatters you as it leaves your lips. Because you can’t tell if Rafe forced it out of you or if it was there all along. Perhaps it never left you. Perhaps, even after all your attempts to purge Rafe Cameron from your flesh and soul, even after he’s done the unthinkable to you…Part of you may still love Rafe, may always love Rafe.

As you grow overwhelmed with warring emotions, his cock still viciously ramming into you, you don’t know who you hate more. Him. Or yourself.

Salty streams spill down your cheeks.

Rafe kisses them away, gently cupping your cheek while thrusting roughly into your cunt. His other hand explores your curves, clutching your flesh possessively. You can already feel bruises forming beneath his rough, insatiable touch. His eyes find yours, a possessive glint swaying in his intense blue gaze.

“Of course you do.” His lips stretch in a smug smile. “You’ve always been mine, princess, you just didn’t know it yet.”

#rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron x reader #dark!rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks fanfiction #obx fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x kook!reader #kook!reader #dark rafe cameron

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alwaysanundertone · 7 months ago

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Day 14, bet's on | rosekiller

@yourfiendlyneighbourspiderman sent a request for this one <3

smut

TW: NSFW, oral (fem and male receiving), bondage, piv, multiple orgasms.

part 1, part 2 will be released after kinktober

“… and he wanted to go back to his apartment, but obviously I refused and then he lashed out, saying I’m a prude and stuff, and it’s just so unfair” You were on your friends’ bed, there were many bottles of beers discarded on the floor. It was typical for you to hang out like this, talking about everything and anything. “I mean, it’s not like I am some type of prude-“

“Y/N, you are”

You widened your eyes, surprised, then shot Barty a dirty look. “Am not, thank you very much”

Evan rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on, stop lying to yourself and admit it. When was the last time you did something adventurous?”

You rolled your eyes, but, if you had to really think about it, you couldn’t find any examples: maybe they were right, maybe you had become a prude. Still, you couldn’t let them win. “I’m drunk and my brain isn’t co-operating, but there are plenty of examples.”

“Prove you’re not a prude, then.”

You scrunched your eyebrows. “How?”

They both exchanged a look. “How about a little game? You’re going to watch our next game from here, in our apartment: for every goal that we score, you’re going to take off a piece of clothing. If you run out of them, you’re going to tie yourself up, and you’ll be waiting patiently for us here, on our bed. When we’ll come home, we’re going to have free access to whatever part of your body is exposed”

You sat up straight, staring at them, your mouth agape. “What- What”

Barty chuckled. “Evan, I think we broke her. We understand, Y/N, you’re not that adventurous, it’s okay, it’s normal”

You felt your blood starting to boil, you never were the one to back down from a challenge, and you weren’t going to start now. “Okay, bets on. You’re going to score two goals maximum, anyways”

They exchanged a surprised look. “We’re going to see about that.”

You just turned up the tv, anxiety clawing at your stomach. Sure, they couldn’t score that many goals, right? It was nearly impossible; you were going to be just fine. For the first time, you wished their time would loose.

As they started to fly on their brooms, you saw Evan scoring the first goal. Hell, not even a minute had passed.

“And just like that, Rosier scores the first point…” You tuned out the speaker’s voice, seeing how Barty and Evan shared a smirk, the camera focusing on their high five.

“Okay, Y/N, it’s a single piece of clothing” You took off one of your socks.

But as the game went on, you found yourself quickly only in your panties and bra, feeling extremely nervous, praying for them to stop scoring points.

It wasn’t that they both weren’t extremely hot, the prospect of them both focusing on your body making you feel hot and bothered; no, it was the fact that you hadn’t experienced any sexual interaction in more than two years, and, even worse than that, you didn’t know how you would have reacted after the sexual intercourse. When they were finished with you, would you be feeling clingy? Would you develop a crush on them? What if you already were crushing on them?

Before you could pity yourself more, Barty scored another goal, followed by Evan, and you swore you could see them winking at the camera. With shaky hands you took off your panties and bra. Now you had to deal with the damned ropes.

At a certain point, you had fallen asleep, tied up on their bed. You startled awake when you felt a hand caressing your stomach, your eyelids fluttering quickly.

“There she is, our angel”

“Evan?”

He chuckled. “What a good girl, doing what she was told to do. Hope you’ve slept well, because the night has just begun. If it gets too much or you feel uncomfortable, say ‘red’ and we will stop.”

As you were about to reply, you felt a tongue licking up a stripe from your hole to your clit, making you whimper. Barty smiled up at you from between your thighs. “Look at you, so responsive. We’re going to have so much fun”

Evan kneeled, staring at your eyes, his gaze dropping to your mouth before dipping his head to kiss you. You moaned; he smiled in the kiss. “Sounds so cute”

“Rosier, get your ass down here and taste her” The blonde guy rolled his eyes, obeying to Barty. Suddenly, two tongues were feasting on your core, the stimulation making your brain turn to mush. “Oh, God, what the fuck”

The boys chuckled. “Yes, sweetheart, tell us how good we make you feel” You felt their tongues meeting over your cunt, then they stopped giving you attention. As you looked down, you saw them making out sloppily directly over your core, seeing them like that was probably the hottest thing you had ever seen.

You whimpered, catching their attention. “You like seeing us like this, don’t you? Naughty, naughty girl” They went back to focusing on your pussy, and you already felt really close to coming, your moans getting progressively more high-pitched.

“Are you going to come on our faces like a good girl, mh?” As soon as Barty inserted a finger in you, curling it upwards, you knew you were gone for. You let out a loud moan, your mind fuzzy, filled with fireworks and fucking rainbows as they worked you through it.

As soon as you came back, you saw in the corner of your eye Evan undressing, and suddenly you felt uncomfortable. “Yellow” They both focused immediately on you.

“What’s up, sweetheart? Do you want to stop?”

“No, but” You felt embarrassed to tell them this, but you knew you had to. “Thing is, I haven’t done anything in a while, and” You didn’t know how to continue, but they seemed to understand.

“It’s okay, we can go as slow as you can, do you want us to undo the ropes?”

You blushed furiously, shaking your head. They both exchanged a look. “Oh, so you like them, huh? Going to keep this in mind in the future”

You didn’t have time to make sense of the innuendo, because Barty was starting to pump his fingers into you, making you moan. He curled them, hitting a specific spot into you, making you mewl. “Evan, I think I found it” He proceeded to caress it repeatedly, working you up once again, but suddenly his fingers were gone, making you whimper in disappointment.

“I know, Barty’s so mean, love” You felt Evan’s dick at your entrance, he was dragging it up and down slowly, making you feel crazy with need. He put in just the tip, staying there for a minute or two, making you feral.

“Evan, please, pleasepleaseplease, I’m going to be good, just” You weren’t even controlling your words anymore, you just knew that you needed him inside of you, and you needed him now.

“Are you hearing this, Barty? She’s going to be good” He mocked you. “What if I stayed like this?” You whined; you would have pushed it in yourself if you weren’t fucking bound. He kneeled down, kissing your nose and entering you altogether, your breath catching in your throat. “Just kidding, you’ve been such a good girl, it wouldn’t be fair to punishing you”.

Once he started picking up the rhythm of his thrusts, Barty slightly slapped your cheek with his cock. “Open up, sweetheart” You did, starting to suck on the head of his dick, hollowing your cheeks, looking up at him innocently. “Fuck, Evan-“ You sucked him even harder, making him whimper. “Fucking hell, I won’t last”

“Neither will I” Evan called out from between your thighs. “She’s so fucking tight, it’s a miracle I haven’t come already”

You were a moaning mess, Evan was somehow capable of hitting all of the right spots, you felt your mind starting to black out as you came on his dick.

“Switch” You widened your eyes as the two boys switched places, the prospect of possibly coming again in such a short period of time making you squirm. Barty entered you with one violent thrust, making you loose your breath. He positioned his index and middle fingers on your clit, making you mewl. “You’re going to come on my dick like a good girl”

You shook your head, Evan giving you a break to speak. “I… Can’t, it’s too much”

Barty cooed at you in fake sympathy. “Awe love, you have to get used to it, just because you’ve been with little boys who can’t make a woman come, doesn’t mean you won’t start now. You will come on my cock, and you will enjoy it” His words were making you even wetter, when he started attacking your G-spot you knew that you were gone for, coming all over him, both og the boys following you.

As you were cathing your breath, Evan started undoing the ropes, while Barty wetted a washcloth and started cleaning you. He smiled up at you. “Guess you aren’t a prude, after all” You scoffed, pushing him away slightly. tags: @sxmnc @peterparkerspersonalplaything @riaaavm @iamawkwardandshy @eeviee4 @mysterialee @famouscrusadeluminary @el1smells @rishofkf @mooonyxoxo @happymaeday @yourfiendlyneighbourspiderman @whyshouldihaveanam3 @amazing-bobinsky @barnesandmetal @just-here-for-ff @remussbitch @sammyreid

#barty crouch jr x you #barty crouch jr x reader #barty crouch jr imagine #barty crouch junior #barty crouch jr #evan rosier #evan rosier x reader #evan rosier x you #rosekiller #poly! rosekiller #rosekiller x reader #rosekiller smut #kinktober 2024

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daisyofwaterdeep · 7 months ago

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i have a NSFW Gale/Reader thought

hear me out on this one:

You have trouble falling asleep and tend to pick up potions of sleep when you can. A few sips around bedtime knocks you out and helps you be well rested in the morning. You recently finished off a bottle so when you and the gang are looting some crates, you pocket a fresh potion of the creamy lilac concoction.

Fast forward to that night. You stayed up a bit later than you intended, looking over some new scrolls and books you'd picked up that day, and decide you need a little sleep aid. You take a swig of your new potion and settle down in your tent for bed. But sleep doesn't take you. Instead, your breasts start aching. For a few moments you think that maybe your period is coming earlier than thought, but the ache keeps growing deeper, and when you go to feel your tits, you notice that they feel uncomfortably tight...full. And as you squeeze them, you feel dampness against your palms.

Confused, scared, and fighting the first inklings of panic, you grab the potion and stumble out of your tent. Luckily, you're not the only night owl and can see the warm glow of a candle from Gale's tent.

You announce your presence and he welcomes you inside, closing a book of his own and sitting up as you duck into his tent and close the flap for privacy. His pleasant smile immedately falls as he sees your worried face.

You quickly explain about the potion, how it might have been contaminated or perhaps spoiled. Gale takes the bottle and swirls the contents before uncorking it and giving it a sniff. He frowns.

"It uses some similar ingredients to a potion of sleep, so it's viscosity and smell are quite similar...but I believe I know what this is." He looks at you evenly before asking, "Did you take it?"

You nod, and Gale sighs from his nose.

"What sort of symptoms are you experiencing?"

It's a bit embarassing to admit, but you tell him, and he sighs again. You can see that he's not happy with the development and you quickly apologize for the hassle. His face changes then and he waves his hands in front of himself.

"No, no, it's not you, dear. It was an easy mistake to make. It's just that...How do I put this."

He takes in a deep breath and motions for you to sit next to him. You do, and he continues speaking, his voice slow and careful.

"That potion is used for mothers who are having troubles... shall we say, producing. It stimulates the breast tissue and...well, I'm sure you've realized."

Oh gods. You look down at your night shirt, seeing the small wet spots around your nipples. You look back at Gale (just as he looks away--it seems he was staring at your chest as well) and you ask what you should do.

Gale clears his throat. "Massaging the area will help, but to extract everything...you wouldn't happen to know a hungry baby, would you?"

You know he's trying to crack a silly joke, but it only makes tears spring to your eyes. Gale flounders, his hands fluttering around like scared birds before one lands on your thigh.

"Don't despair, dear. I'll...I know it may be a tad unorthodox, but if you'll let me..."

You tell him you don't care what he does, as long as it fixes your problem. You see Gale's jaw flex. He seems to be calculating something in his head before he nods curtly.

"I'll take care of it, don't you worry. Here, lay down for me."

He quickly grabs some pillows and arranges them comfortably on the ground and you lean back, the pillows propping you up in a half-lounging position.

He scoots close to you, his hands going to the buttons of your shirt before he looks up at you with those big brown eyes, silently asking your permission. You can feel your cheeks flush as you nod. He begins unfastening the buttons from the bottom, and with shaking hands, you start from the top, meeting him in the middle. Your shirt falls open, and your breasts are on full display in the candlelight, visibly tight and full, your nipples hard and wet with smeared milk.

"Do they hurt?" He asks, voice a hush in the night air.

You nod, fighting the urge to close your shirt as Gale stares.

"I won't massage them just yet, then. We need to extract some of the, erm, fluid first." He wettens his bottom lip and scoots a bit closer to you. "Do you understand what I need to do?"

It seems that he's just as nervous about this as you are-- you know what he's getting at, but neither of you seem brave enough to say it out loud. Instead, you nod your head and tell him to do whatever he needs to.

He nods and starts lowering his head hesitantly. "I know it's going to feel odd, but it's necessary."

You return the nod and fight back a shiver as you feel the warmth of his breath against your nipple. You look away just as his lips meet the swollen bud and bite your lip to stop any involuntary noises from leaving you. The feeling of his hot lips closing around your nipple and then the velvet wetness of his tongue cupping around it has heat flooding your stomach and cheeks.

He starts with a light suction, your nipple gently pulled into his mouth. You can feel the milk leaving you as he begins suckling, hot spurts that provide an almost instant relief in your aching breast.

You let out a soft sigh and Gale releases your nipple and looks up at you, his cheeks rosy and eyes darker than usual.

"You alright?"

You apologize and ensure him it's fine, telling him that it feels surprisingly good before realizing what you said and stumbling over your words. You flounder and clarify that the relief of the pressure feels good, and he nods his head quickly.

"I knew exactly what you meant." He adjusts himself on the ground, "I'm relieved to hear that it's working...we'll keep going then."

But before he dips back down, you stop him. You realize that he hasn't spat out what he's sucked from you and ask if you all should grab a bowl or something so that he doesn't have to swallow.

"I don't mind," He says, "It's less cumbersome this way." He stutters for a moment before adding, "U-unless it makes you uncomfortable, of course. I'd be happy to--"

You cut him off and tell him it's fine like this. And then, shyly, you ask him what it tastes like.

"It's...sweet. But not overly so." He gestures to your breast, where a pearly drop dangles from the tip of your nipple. "Try it for yourself."

So you do. You swipe the drop onto your finger and suck it into your mouth, surprised at the sweetness, even if that's how Gale had described it. When you look back at Gale, you see a curious heat in his eyes that he quickly masks before bringing his head down once more.

This time, you watch as he latches onto your nipple. The peek of his tongue as he takes it into his mouth makes you clench involuntarily. And then comes that relief again, that lessening of pressure that has you sighing and leaning your head back.

It's almost hypnotic. The feeling of his lips suckling at you, the press of his tongue against your sore nipple, the pain that slowly ebbs away and is quickly being replaced by guilty arousal. You close your eyes and sigh again, hand coming to the back of his head without thinking.

Your eyes fly open and you quickly apologize again. Gale pulls off of your nipple but doesn't lean up, his words breathed hotly against your sensitive breast.

"No need to apologize...please, get comfortable."

You tell him that he should get comfortable too-- you don't know how long this is going to take, and seeing him leaning forward on his knees is making your own want to ache in sympathy. He laughs softly, sheepishly.

"I do admit, it's not entirely comfortable. In that case..."

He moves slowly, carefully between your legs, looking up at you for permission that you grant with an encouraging nod.

Gale lays himself gingerly on top of you, his face level with your breasts. It's how lovers would cuddle, and it brings your heart to your throat.

"There, that's much better," Gale's voice has a slight tremble as he hovers over your untouched breast, "Is it comfortable for you as well?"

You tell him it is.

"Alright..." He takes his hand and gently cups the weight of your breast, "Let's work on this one a bit, shall we?"

He begins sucking at your other nipple, just as tender as the first one. But this time, with him laying against you and your hand returning to his hair, you find yourself letting out a moan despite yourself.

And this time, he doesn't pull away to ask if you're okay--The sound was purely from pleasure, and he seems to know it. Instead, he responds with a slightly stronger suck, his eyes closed and his long lashes on his cheeks. You try not to squirm, the heat between your legs growing to a point that you can feel your heartbeat in your pussy. You wonder if he can feel the thump of it against his stomach.

You don't know how long it goes on. The gentle pull of his mouth on you, the feeling of his warm breaths against your skin, his soft hair beneath your fingers...it's all so decadently pleasurable and you lose yourself in the feeling.

He swaps between your breasts, his tongue laving at your nipple before taking it into his mouth. The feeling of it makes you jolt and shudder and moan. His hand continues cupping your other breast, gently kneading it in time with each suckle. You feel a warm trickle of milk from your free nipple and watch as it rolls down the swell of your tit before meeting his hand. He unlatches himself and goes to that breast instead, licking the cooling trail up your skin before taking your nipple once again.

His tongue is becoming greedier with each of your noises, licking your areola, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin and his nose pressing into the plushness of your breast. You hold his head firmer against you, legs closing around his body as you fight to not grind against him.

He's fully groping you now, both hands gently squeezing your breasts as his hungry mouth takes turns lavishing both nipples with his attention. His eyes are still closed and his brow is furrowed as he works, panting for air between each switch but never allowing himself to fully catch his breath.

You can feel the flow of your milk drying up. The ache in your breasts has mercifully subsided, leaving them feeling tender and sensitive. But Gale doesn't seem ready to stop-- he sucks harder at them, coaxing out each drop against his tongue.

So you don't stop him. You lean back against the pillows and run your hand over his back, through his hair, letting him nurse from you to his content. And as you watch him, you realize with a cold jolt that he's rutting himself against the ground. It's subtle, almost completely missable, but you can see the way his ass flexes as his toes dig into the ground for purchase.

The revelation finally breaks your control. You moan his name and raise your hips against him, spreading your legs as his teeth dig into your skin.

It's as if he had been waiting for this moment. He's sliding up your body immediately, his hot, panted breaths against your face sweet with your milk.

"Gods, I'm--"

Whatever he's going to say is lost as he takes your mouth, that skilled tongue that has been teasing your nipples all this time now pushing past your lips, that sweetness intensified as he kisses you desperately. His body slots perfectly against yours, his hard cock pressing against your pussy and grinding into it, starved for friction. Even through both sets of your clothes you can feel his member pulsing, and as he dry fucks you he groans into your mouth, his hands hungrily feeling over your body, your face, your breasts.

You cry out as the orgasm that has been building all this time finally breaks within you, and you cling to him as you rut madly against him. Your own passionate ministrations make Gale still, and it isn't until you hear his own throaty groan that you understand why.

Your arched back deflates back into the pillows, and Gale's body follows, as if not wanting to be apart from you. You can feel the twitching of his cock still buried between your legs, uneven jumps and shudders that have him gasping and pulling out of the kiss.

"Gods, I'm...I'm so sorry..." He pants, eyes fluttering open and worry knitting his brow. "That was...inappropriate, to say the least."

You hold the side of his face and reassure him that it's alright. And, you add with a smile, his unorthodox methods have managed to do what you sought to accomplish in the first place.

"I must say, I'm rather tired myself." Gale shares your smile, "Why don't you spend the night, in that case? Besides, it's best for me to be nearby, in case you need more...extracting."

You happily oblige.

#(arrow pointing at gales tummy) full of milk #THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A QUICK LITTLE IMAGINE I WASNT EXPECTING IT TO BECOME ITS OWN LITTLE FICLET!!!!! OOPS!!!!#daisy dabbles #gale dekarios #gale dekarios x reader #breastfeeding

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suugarbabe · 7 months ago

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Hi! If it's not too much to ask can you do a Mattheo Riddle x reader with insomnia. Like really bad hasn't slept in 4 days kind of insomnia, and no spells or potions are working. Mattheo notices her lack of sleep and offers to try and help. You don't have to if you don't want to, have a lovely day :)

hope this isn't indicative of what you're going through, lovie. sleep is so so so important <3 hope you like it!

mattheo x gn!reader

Whichever founder decided on the amount of fucking stairs in each dorm could rightfully fuck off in your opinion. They were irritating on a normal day, but the lack of sleep you'd been experiencing made each step feel like you were stepping off the edge of a cliff.

Your routine had been the same the last several nights. Making your way up the stairs to do your nightly routine, tossing around in your bed for several hours, then making your way down to the common room to stare at the fire until you eventually pass out for a few hours before others started to come down and start their day.

Whether it was your dorm mate that tipped him off, or just his annoyingly good intuition he's developed with you, a mop of black curls was sitting on your usual sofa; fire already blazing in the fireplace before him. Rounding the edge of the couch Mattheo held out his hand, "Cuppa?"

He makes sure you have a hold on it as you sit down before he lets go himself, "Still not sleeping?" You shake your head, lifting the cup to your lips and breathing in deeply. "It's just how you take it, dip of milk and a smidge of honey." You take a long sip, "Valerian root?" Mattheo smiled slightly, shrugging his shoulders, "I know you've tried basically everything else. Dunno how sleep drought isn't knocking you out to be perfectly honest but I just thought...well if potions and spells aren't helping, maybe it was time to try the greenhouse."

You couldn't help the curious glint in your eye, "Matty...you're terrible at herbology, I've seen your revisions." Mattheo rolled his eyes, taking your now empty mug with his and settling them both on the side table. "I may have consulted Berkshire," he turned back to face you. You hummed in acknowledgement, "Mmm, yes, that does sound more correct." Mattheo scoffed, hand now gripping your waist, "Yeah, yeah, lay back now, love."

You did as told, but not without a quirked brow, "Correct me if i'm wrong, but shouldn't I get to be cuddled up to you, ya know, as I'm the one who's struggling with sleep?" Mattheo tutted as he crawled on top of you, settling his head on your chest as he hooked his arms under your shoulders, "Wrong. I am now your human weighted blanket."

Opening your mouth to rebuttal, you had to fight off a yawn, "That's not...I don't think that's how this...works." You could nearly feel Mattheo smile against you, "Seems to be working to me." Instinctually your fingers laced themselves in his curls, lightly scratching at his scalp. Mattheo hummed against you, further burying his face into your chest.

It would've killed you to say it, but everything he was doing was actually working. You eyes fluttered shut, and your breathing seemed to slow. The feelings was so foreign to you after not getting enough sleep this week you almost wanted to fight it, but you just didn't have enough energy. Your last conscious thought before drifting playfully being that you could never tell Mattheo that he was right.

#mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x gn!reader #slytherin boys x gn!reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle fluff #nonny bo bonny #slytherin boys #slytherin boys fic #slytherin boys fic req

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lanasblood · 2 years ago

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HOW DO I MAKE YOU LOVE ME | neteyam x reader

pairing: neteyam x f!omatikaya!reader (no mentions of y/n)

summary: you remember all of your attempts to make Neteyam fall in love with you, using various methods, experiencing numerous failures, and you finally come to a conclusion or the five times you failed to win neteyam’s affection and the one time you succeed.

word count: 10k (!!! damn)

warnings: actually none but let’s say hurt/comfort, reader is a simp, 5+1 prompt, confessing, mutual pining, mention of blood, requited/unrequited love, !!adult neteyam!!, flashbacks to childhood and teenager years

note: inspired by the five love languages and the weeknd’s song mentioned in the title.

* gif‘s not mine.

The soft rustling of the teal leaves falling silently to the ground, as light as an ikran feather, is one of the most soothing sounds heard on the still night. The wind touches them gently, as if caressing them, before whirling them up again in a powerful gust, starting the cycle all over again. The moons stand high in the sky, and the stars sparkle like little gems that can beautify anything. The night is quiet, and the soft breeze seems to calm everything down and lull it into a deep sleep. The bright light of the bioluminescent plants lays gently on the moist meadows, illuminating the darkness. It is like a magical tale, perfect and without blemish. Yet, there is one who can't sleep in this harmonic time: you. With your arms and legs stretched out, you lie on your back, feeling like hours have passed since you started staring at the night sky without moving a muscle. You have even decided to sleep outside your hammock to hear and feel the sound of the wind, hoping to finally sink into the dreamland. But, as you know, this has done little to help.

All because of him. You sigh in annoyance.

For as long as you can remember you've had this crush on the eldest son of the Olo'eyktan, you don't know when you developed it, let alone how it really started. You just know that it might have been cute at first – a nice girl from a small clan who has feelings for the older boy next door, but as time went by, it wasn't cute at all; on the contrary, it robs you of precious sleep and will most likely cause you to age prematurely.

Despite not knowing how and when exactly this crush thing has started, you know that it has gotten worse the more time has passed, and the more time passes, the more failed attempts to get his attention you have behind you. However, there's one event you categorize as time zero - the starting point of your attempts - that you remember vividly:

You were a mere child and couldn't take your eyes off Neteyam, who was only slightly older than you. Confidently clutching the stem of the rare flower you had been searching for days, you made your way through the lush forest, searching for Neteyam. As you thought about the plan you had concocted, your heart beat rapidly in your chest. You had heard from a reliable source that Neteyam was a lover of rare flora, and you hoped that this gift would make him see you in a different light.

When you spotted him in the distance, his tall figure was moving gracefully through the trees. Taking a deep breath, you approached him, holding out the flower to him.

"Hey, Neteyam," you said, trying to sound casual. "I found this and I thought you might like it."

Neteyam stopped in his tracks and turned to look at you, his expression unreadable. You held out the flower a bit higher, hoping to see a glimmer of appreciation in his eyes.

"Thank you," he said simply, slowly taking the flower from your outstretched hand. Looking at the flower now in his hand, the corner of his lips turned upward, causing your heart to flutter.

You told him happily, "It's a very rare flower," beaming a bright smile at him.

And the next thing you knew, you were holding your breath as he bent slightly forward to your height and patted your head in praise, "It seems you're already a careful gatherer, baby neighbor. Keep it up!"

You felt your heart sink faster than a prey could run when he turned and continued on his way, leaving you standing there alone in the forest. You had hoped that your gesture would be enough to make him see you in a different light, but it seemed that it had made no difference at all, or even worse for he had called you the worst possible nickname to exist in all na'vihood.

As you made your way back to the village, you couldn't help but feel a sense of disappointment and frustration settling in you, the deep frown on your face mirroring your inner world. You had tried so hard to get Neteyam to notice you, but it seemed that he was simply not interested.

How do I make you love me?

After a few cycles and many more failed attempts in between, you realized that your little crush was not so little after all. Especially after Neteyam passed his Iknimaya at such a young age, your admiration for him grew every day. The feeling was almost unbearable as you found yourself constantly near him but not receiving the acknowledgment you wished for.

That was until one day, you decided to change that because your hormonal teenager brain had this glorious idea to spend some alone time with Neteyam. You had observed that he enjoyed hunting during his free time when he wasn't bound by his duties as the Olo'eyktan's firstborn. This is why you eagerly joined him on his next hunt, determined to impress him with your own hunting and tracking skills. Looking back, you now realize that your confidence may have been misplaced for your skills were basically non-existent at that time, but back then you were convinced that you were able to hunt.

So, you followed Neteyam deep into the forest, crouching right beside him in the underbrush, watching the herd of talioang grazing in the distance. Their blue and orange skin glinted in the sunlight, and you could hear the low rumble of their voices as they communicated with each other.

"Do you thi—" Neteyam's hand swiftly covered your mouth, halting your words before they escaped, his touch gentle yet firm. It was electrifying, sending shivers down your spine. He motioned for you to be quiet and directed your attention towards the herd. As he removed his hand, you couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement in your blood. This was your chance to prove yourself.

Neteyam slowly and silently made his way towards the herd, you right on his track, moving from one piece of cover to another. Your eyes followed every movement of the muscles on his toned back, you felt your heart pounding in your chest, and your palms were slick with sweat. Even though you had never really hunted before, you were determined to succeed but Neteyam's captivating presence proved to be a distraction that made it difficult for you to concentrate on anything else.

As you got closer to the herd, you could feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins. Neteyam signaled for you to stop, and you froze, trying to make yourself as small as possible. He reached out and brushed a twig aside at your feet.

"Watch your steps," he whispered close to your ear, and you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, sending shivers down your spine. Your heart raced as you realized how close he was to you, and you wondered if he could hear it pounding in your chest. Longing to feel his lips against your skin, you couldn't help but turn your head slightly towards him, but you knew you couldn't let your desire distract you from the hunt.

"I do," you whispered back. Trying to calm your racing heart, you focused on the task at hand, scanning the ground for anything else that might make noise. But when you moved, you felt Neteyam's body shift slightly against yours, sending another jolt of electricity through you, and you wondered if he felt it too.

"No, you constantly step on something," he told you, still whispering, but voice stern.

Feeling caught because there was a high possibility that he was right for you hadn't paid attention to your surroundings in the last couple of minutes, too busy doting on him, you couldn't find arguments to defend yourself, "I do not."

Neteyam firmly pressed his finger on his own lips, signaling you to be quiet yet again. Your heart beat faster as you met his intense gaze, and you felt a rush of desire wash over you.

"Too much noise," he mouthed, his voice barely audible, and looked back at the herd. Following his gaze, you saw that the talioang had picked up on something, and they were starting to look nervous. You and Neteyam held your breaths, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Suddenly, Neteyam gave the signal, and sprang into action. You just weren't really ready when he gave the signal, so with the first step you took, you stumbled on something growing on the ground and fell over with a short cry. Neteyam who had darted towards the nearest talioang, already drawing his bow and arrow, stopped right in his track when he heard you fall. You looked up at him when he quickly turned to you and then back at the herd but it was too late, the animals already reared up in surprise, and scattered in all directions. However, you were too shocked by your fatal mistake to pay them any attention. You were frozen in place, lying in the dirt, watching Neteyam looking back at you with a slightly agape mouth. The blood rushed to your head and you could hear your heart pounding in your ears.

You ruined it.

Neteyam's disappointment was tangible. You could feel his eyes on you, and you knew that he was angry. You would be, too. Struggling to express your remorse, the words got caught in your throat as you attempted to apologize. The weight of disappointment were heavy on your shoulders, and you couldn't shake off the feeling of letting him down.

After a long, awkward silence, Neteyam turned to you with a deep sigh. "You need to be more careful," he said, "When you're hunting, you have to be aware of everything around you. One mistake can ruin the whole hunt."

You nodded, feeling ashamed, you were sure your face was as purple as a yovo fruit. You had wanted to impress Neteyam, but instead you had embarrassed yourself in front of him, had blown any chance to show him that you were capable.

How do I make you fall for me?

Over time, you learned from your previous mistakes. Wanting to impress him proved to be harder than anticipated, but having a conversation with him was easier than expected. You needed to show him how much you appreciated him for who he was. As a result, you began to pay closer attention to the way he interacted with others, especially his younger brother Lo'ak, and you started to incorporate some of those phrases into your conversations with him.

One bright day, you nervously approached Neteyam, hoping to strike up a conversation with him using your newfound knowledge:

"Hey, Neteyam," you greeted tentatively, "Whatcha doin'?"

You left out the bro on purpose, fearing it would be overkill. Even so, the words coming out of your mouth sounded strange to you, and for him apparently too, as he rapidly looked up from his task upon hearing your voice, and his otherwise neutral face looked at you with a slightly frowned forehead and attentive eyes, studying you for a moment before he was quick to collect himself and greeted you with a slight smile.

"Not much. Tuk asked me to repair this old basket for her," he said, motioning with his hands on the basket between his legs, "And I'm trying."

You nodded, trying not to seem too eager, "That's really kind of you. I bet she'll be thrilled once you finish it," you said with a smile.

Neteyam simply hummed in response and went back to his task, his concentration returning.

"I mean, I would, too. Tuk is very lucky, it must be nice to have a brother like you," you complimented him.

"But you do have a brother," Neteyam reminded you matter-of-factly, "We used to attend the same training sessions so many times."

"Yeah," you continued, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment. "But, uh, he is not as skilled as you are." Good save. "And he never did such kind things for me when I was little. The only thing he did was teach me how to fight."

"That's a valuable skill," Neteyam commented.

"Well, what I mean is, he's an ordinary brother, while you are one of a kind, Neteyam. Your siblings are incredibly lucky to have you," you said, emphasizing your point.

Neteyam smiled to himself, his canines slightly showing, as he went back to working on the basket. You couldn't help but feel a flutter in your stomach at the thought of him noticing your flattery.

"I appreciate that," he said, acknowledging your compliment.

After a few minutes of silence, you took a deep breath and you mustered up the courage to ask him a question, "May I say something?"

He looked up at you again and nodded. "Sure, what's on your mind?"

You decided to take the chance, "I just wanted to say that you always seem to know just what to do and say, and that's very impressive. You're responsible, always respectful, and very patient. Not just with me but with everyone in our clan. And I want you to know that I really appreciate it, Neteyam." I appreciate you.

Neteyam's expression softened as he listened to your words. "You have a kind heart to express that," he replied, a hint of a smile still playing at the corner of his lips.

You took a deep breath and continued, "I know you don't share much about your personal life, but if you ever feel comfortable talking about it I would love to learn more about you."

Neteyam's smile reached his eyes. "Thank you, I will keep that in mind."

You felt a warm glow of happiness in your chest as you realized that your words affected him. You were willing to put in the work to get to know him better.

Encouraged by his response, you asked, "So, do you have any concrete plans after your Uniltaron?"

Neteyam's expression faltered a bit upon hearing you mention his upcoming Dream Hunt, he seemed almost reserved all of a sudden. "I do have a few, but they are personal," he replied, "I prefer to keep them to myself."

You felt a pang of disappointment. "Oh, I understand," you said, trying to hide your dejection, "I'm sorry. It was not my place to ask."

"You don't have to apologize," he responded, "But some things are best kept within the family."

"Yeah, I get it," you smiled weakly, feeling like you had hit a wall, "Thanks for talking with me, Neteyam."

He nodded and went back to his task, leaving you feeling deflated and uncertain about how to get closer to him.

How do I make you want me?

The previous attempts to win Neteyam's attention had proven unsuccessful: The gifts you gave him didn't have the desired effect, your attempts to impress him by spending time with him backfired (you want to forget that memory of the hunt so badly), and the conversations you had with him remained superficial, never delving deeper into meaningful topics. It was clear that you needed a new approach, a fresh idea to capture his interest which brought you back to point zero.

You walked through the forest, scanning the undergrowth for any signs of the flowers you had been studying for quite some time – the kind you gifted Neteyam when you were little. It turns out that the rare flower wasn't that rare after all, it only bloomed a short time a cycle, which is what made it so valuable. However, if they were dried and powdered, very useful medicines could be made. At some point you had started collecting this flower, as well as other herbs and plants for Tsahìk, and in return she had taught you how to make rich creams and pastes from them. And you could also consume this flower in meals if you let it cook over the fire for a long time. Pondering if it would evoke nostalgia within Neteyam, while you plucked them carefully from the ground, you wondered if he ever remembered the day you gave him that flower in the first place.

Gathering a variety of edible flowers, aromatic herbs, and other nourishing ingredients from the village, you spent all morning helping the women in your clan prepare a wholesome and delicious meal for the warriors. In anticipation of Neteyam's training session, you decided to take this thoughtful approach to show your support and care.

As the aroma of freshly cooked food filled the air, you volunteered to bring the full basket of handmade food wraps and lovely cut fruits to the training area.

The warriors were engrossed in their practice, their movements fluid and powerful. You scanned the crowd, searching for Neteyam among them.

Spotting him in the midst of the intense training session, his lean muscles glistening with sweat under the warm sun, you couldn't help but feel a surge of admiration. His movements were powerful and precise, each strike displaying his skill as a warrior. His strength and determination did something to you, feeling a magnetic pull towards him.

Balancing the basket of food in your hands, you approached the outskirts of the training area, careful not to interrupt the warriors' focus. You set up a blanket and arranged the food on it attractively. Your intention was not only to impress Neteyam but to show your support for the entire group.

"I swear, Eywa send you here," you heard someone say next to you, a bit out of breath, while impatient hands reached into the basket and helped you place the food, "I'm starving!"

"Lo'ak, are you allowed to end your training like this?" You questioned, and turned your head in the direction of the warriors — the training was obviously still in full swing, but it was precisely then that you met Neteyam's gaze who was already looking over at you, a mixture of surprise and curiosity evident in his eyes.

"Not really but it smells so good, I'm ready to be skinned for these delici— Oh, I'm taking this one, yeah?" He started unwrapping one of the food wraps and hastily bit into it.

"Hey, wait for the others!" you admonished him, but his wrap was already half eaten.

"Mm, das bom!" you heard him smack loudly, "S'rusly, yur da best."

"I'm glad," you responded, suppressing a laugh. Lo'ak acted like he hadn't eaten in days.

Noticing the spread of food, the warriors collectively ended the training session, and the men started approaching the nourishing dishes, including freshly grilled meats, vibrant vegetables, and flavorful herbs.

Sensing an opportunity, you went towards Neteyam, a food wrap in your hand, and a warm smile gracing your lips. "I thought I would spare you the long way, in case you're starving like your brother," you joked, gesturing with your head towards Lo'ak behind you, who was taking two more food wraps and calling dips on the rawp.

Neteyam's gaze shifted from the feast you had prepared to the food in his hands and then at you. His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary, and a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"That's thoughtful of you," he replied, his voice carrying a subtle warmth, "It's been an intense training session, and this is a welcome surprise."

You stepped back, allowing him to enjoy the meal with his fellow warriors. Observing from a distance, you noticed the camaraderie and laughter that emerged as they gathered around the spread of food, indulging in the flavors that were carefully crafted.

Throughout the meal, you found yourself drawn to Neteyam's presence. The way he spoke with passion about his experiences, the way he listened attentively to others, and the way his eyes sparkled with a hidden depth — all of it only fueled your growing attraction.

As the training session continued, you lingered nearby, engaging in conversations with other warriors, offering encouragement and companionship. While your initial intention was to impress Neteyam, you found joy in connecting with the community as a whole, so much you almost didn't realize that the day's training had come to an end.

"Thank you for the meal and your company," Neteyam said softly as he walked next to you back to the village, carrying the basket for you with a genuine smile gracing his face. "It meant a lot to all of us."

Your cheeks warmed at his words, "I didn't do much, the others—"

"You are here, that alone is more than enough."

You nodded, a sense of satisfaction washing over you. "I'm glad I could contribute," your voice was filled with sincerity, "Supporting you and the clan is important to me."

A surge of hope welled up inside you, but as the conversation continued, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. Despite your efforts, the romantic tension you had hoped for seemed to elude you. The conversation remained pleasant yet distant, and it became clear that Neteyam saw you more as a friend than a potential partner. With a heavy heart, you realized that your attempt to catch his interest had once again fallen short.

And make it last eternally?

For quite some time now, you have firmly believed that you have left those days behind you, imprisoned in childhood memories, overlapped by numerous teenage embarrassments. After all, now you are an adult with serious duties and commitments to attend to, and there's neither time nor room for such childish infatuations. Crushing on the future Olo'eyktan. Please. Plus, once you found out how many other girls in your clan, both older and younger than you, adored him, you figured it is best to move on. You were frustrated at times, but you resolved to carry on, cherishing the friendship you shared with Neteyam while silently letting go of your unrequited feelings. At least, that's what you thought...

… until three eclipses ago.

Mere moments before the eclipse, the all-too-familiar soft light danced in the room, casting a golden hue that revealed the tiniest pollen floating around inside Tsahìk's crowded tent. It had been a long time since so many people had been injured at once, yet no one was ready to explain or report what had happened.

As two new figures entered the tent, one of them supporting the other, you heard a familiar voice speaking calmly, "Focus on not getting blood all over grandmother's tent rather than worrying about my wounds."

"Nah, I'm just- Ouch! Careful, bro!"

"Sorry, brother, but you have to cooperate with me here," Neteyam uttered while carefully helping Lo'ak onto the mat made of woven grasses that Kiri had prepared for them with blankets.

"I'm just saying—Ahh," Lo'ak hissed as Neteyam applied pressure to his open wound with his bare hands, while Kiri hastily tied together any available cloths for his wound care. "-it's not very mighty of you, you know."

"What is not very mighty of him?" Kiri wanted to know, now taking over and applying pressure to his wound as well to stop the bleeding. As you shifted to Kiri's side, you handed her more cloths that she could wrap around Lo'ak's leg.

"His wounds, of course," Lo'ak grinned when he saw you and gave his older brother another amused sideways glance, before continuing, "but I'm sure he will be in great hands now. Right, bro?"

Just a quick glance at Lo'ak was enough to see that he was far worse off than Neteyam. While his wounds did not appear to be life-threatening, he was bleeding profusely from his thigh.

Tsahìk had already rushed to the four of you, throwing a disapproving look at Lo'ak, "Oh, my boy, let me have a look." With her expertise, she quickly got the situation under control, ordering Kiri to get more cloths while you stood by her side to assist her.

"My child, attend to his wounds," Tsahìk instructed you, but to your surprise she nodded towards Neteyam instead of Lo'ak as she pushed a bowl of fresh water into your hands. "My granddaughter and I can handle this young clumsy man here." Her stern gaze was once again fixed on Lo'ak, who, in turn, only grinned at her.

"Grandmother," Neteyam began soothingly, ready to protest, "there is no need to—" but her piercing eyes silenced him, causing him to follow you wordlessly to the other side of the tent.

And that's how you found yourself sitting in front of Neteyam, tending to his wounds with the gentle touch of your hands, caring for each cut and bruise.

"You need to be more careful," you said softly, breaking the comfortable silence as you wrung the cloth in the water that had already turned a muddy reddish color.

"I'm content with the present circumstances," he replied, his voice laced with a touch of amusement. You gave him a sarcastic look, which he reciprocated with a warm smile.

"Well, I suppose then you'll be content with this as well." Pressing the damp cloth into his hand, you stood up and leisurely made your way to Tsahìk's supplies to fetch some healing ointments, and you took your time doing so.

Upon your return, Neteyam watched you attentively, his eyes tracing your every movement, and you wondered if he had been watching you the whole time. There was a newfound curiosity in his gaze, a glimmer of something more.

"My words came out wrong," he said when you sat back on the ground in front of him. The air was filled with a mix of anticipation and unspoken emotions, a subtle tension hanging between you. "You're right, I should be more careful. I always strive to be. It's just that there's little one can do in the face of an ambush."

"An ambush?" you asked with big eyes, "Oh, Great Mother! That's what everyone's been trying to conceal. And I was wondering the whole time what could've possibly happened to cause so many injuries."

"They probably didn't want to cause an uproar." You listened to his words, sensing the weight they carried. The mention of an ambush brought back memories of past dangers and harrowing encounters. The gravity of their lives was never far from their thoughts, and you understood the weight that rested on Neteyam's shoulders.

"You don't always have to be the strong one, Neteyam," you said softly, voice carrying reassurance, when you continued cleaning the cut on his chest, noticing that he tried not to wince under your touch, "It's alright to lean on others, to let them care for you."

A flicker of emotion danced across his face, a fleeting moment of vulnerability before he regained his composure. His hand reached out to touch yours resting on his chest above his heart, the contact gentle yet charged with unspoken emotions.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, and in that moment it felt like the boundaries between healer and wounded blurred, "Thank you for being here, for tending to me." His eyes locked with yours, an unspoken promise passing between you, turning your cheeks in a light purply color.

"Now," you cleared your throat with the intention of changing the subject, fervently hoping that he wouldn't notice your flushed cheeks, "here comes the actual healing part."

Gently, you dipped your fingers into the jar of ointment, scooping out a generous amount. With deliberate movements, you applied the soothing balm to his wounds, careful not to cause any further discomfort. The ointment glided smoothly, creating a soothing sensation that seemed to envelop him in a healing embrace.

"What I meant before is that I am glad that you are the one taking care of me," you smiled upon hearing those words, feeling his gaze on you as you concentrated on his upper body. A gentle warmth radiated from his wounds as your fingertips grazed his skin, mingling with the tender touch of your hands. The ointment possessed a subtle fragrance, hinting at the natural remedies it held within.

As you continued to apply the ointment, your fingers delicately tracing the contours of his chest, exploring the intricate landscape of his injuries, a comfortable silence settled between you. The rhythm of your ministrations became a quiet conversation, a wordless understanding of care and compassion. With every gentle caress, a subtle shiver passed through him, a reaction that spoke of both vulnerability and an underlying trust in your touch. There was a closeness in this shared moment, a connection forged through the tender act of healing.

Neteyam's gaze remained fixed on you, his eyes revealing a depth of gratitude and something more profound. It was as if the vulnerability of his wounds had peeled away a layer, exposing a vulnerability of the heart. The strength he embodied as a warrior was softened in this vulnerable space, allowing a snippet into the depths of his mind and soul.

"It never stings when you patch me up, why?" Neteyam asked, his voice laced with wonder, tilting his head slightly.

"The secret is to mix yalnabark with 'omsyul," you replied, your voice gentle yet filled with a hint of playfulness.

"Care to share this secret with my grandmother? And Kiri, too?" Neteyam's request was teasing but also genuine, and you couldn't help but be touched by his thoughtfulness.

"Actually, Kiri is the one who taught me this," you admitted, a fondness in your voice.

Neteyam's forehead furrowed slightly, "Then why does it always burn when she patches me up?"

With a twinkle in your eyes, you playfully suggested, "Sibling love?"

A mischievous smile curved his lips. "Or perhaps your touch is blessed by Eywa?" His words hung in the air, filled with a newfound flirtation that took you by surprise.

"Oh, come on now, exaggerate much, do you?" you responded, attempting to brush off his words with a hint of irony, not fully realizing the impact they had on you.

Undeterred by your sarcastic retort, Neteyam looked deeply into your eyes, his voice filled with sincerity and a touch of vulnerability. "The caress of your hand weaves a tapestry of enchantment, casting a spell that captivates my very soul."

His words echoed in your mind, resonating with a blend of tender affection and longing. You wished he had said those words when you were younger and so in love with him, meaning every syllable coming from his kissable lips. What you would have given to hear him say it.

A blush spread across your cheeks as you struggled to find the right words to respond. The air around you seemed charged with electricity, the tension between you both palpable.

"You said I should exaggerate," Neteyam added, a witty glint in his eyes, as if to remind you of your earlier banter.

Your younger self would have etched his previous words into a tree to make them eternal — words you longed to hear from your crush, words that felt like a dream.

"Crush?" he asked with interest, and your eyes widened with the realization that you had spoken your thoughts aloud. "On whom?"

"Um," a jumble of thoughts flooded your mind at once, too late for an excuse, "You?"

Your confession left him momentarily speechless, and your heart pounded in your chest.

It's in the past, so it's okay to admit it, you told yourself, trying to calm down a bit.

"You have a crush on me?"

"Had," you corrected quickly.

"You had a crush on me?" he asked again, as if needing confirmation. It seemed to sweep him off his feet, a revelation he hadn't expected.

"Everyone did, everyone does," you confessed, trying to downplay the significance.

"Everyone except you?"

You shrugged, unsure how to answer, "I guess I'm… over it."

"Why?" he inquired.

"Come on, Neteyam," you sighed, trying to mask the bitterness in your voice, "don't act like you didn't know."

"I swear by Eywa this is news to me… I have never…" he hesitated briefly with his words, "It doesn't even make sense."

Make sense?

"Don't make me regret telling you," you said, your voice tinged with frustration, "It's not about making sense, and it's not a big deal either, don't you agree?"

"Yes, but I try to understand."

"What is there to understand?"

"Why would you even crush on me in the first place?"

Oh.

"You're right," you tightly gripped the cloth, forcing a smile, "why would I."

Even though you reluctantly admitted it, it hurt you and scratched at your ego. You were now more than grateful to have never openly communicated your feelings. As an adult, you could handle it, but you know exactly that this reaction would have devastated your childhood self. You were not accustomed to this insensitivity from Neteyam, considering he always maintained a noble and respectable demeanor. This showed you even more how repulsive the idea of having you by his side was to him.

"Also, I'm sorry," you turned around in a swing, your voice filled with sadness, disappointment, and above all, anger—anger at him for acting like a skxawng and anger at yourself for being a skxawng by confiding in him, "that the thought of me being attracted to you disgusts you so much. It won't happen again, rest your mind."

He seemed lost for words, blinking once, twice, and opening his mouth only to close it again, processing your words. Part of you yearned for him to say something, to prove you wrong, but nothing came. His gaze lingered on you for a long moment, altering between your eyes, the unspoken words hanging in the air.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm needed elsewhere," you said, your voice tinged with resignation. You prepared to turn away, ready to retreat from the turmoil of the moment. But just as you began to pivot, a sudden, gentle grip on your arm stopped you in your tracks. It was Neteyam, his touch both unexpected and tender.

In that instant, conflicting emotions surged within you, caught between the instinct to push him away and the captivating gaze that held your attention. Without uttering a single word, he drew you closer, wrapping you in a tight embrace that left you completely defenseless, your body momentarily frozen in surprise against his bare skin.

Your initial response was to resist, your mind still reeling from the whirlwind of confusion. Yet, as his arms enveloped you, a scent as enchanting as the forest's vibrant essence and the serenity of sacred woods wafted into your consciousness. It was a harmonious blend that stirred your senses, mingling the fragrant allure of nature with the grounding whispers of sandalwood.

Inhaling deeply, the captivating aroma cast a spell upon you, dissolving the remnants of anger and frustration that had once consumed your thoughts like a distant memory as he held you firmly in his strong arms, the warmth of his body seeping into your very core.

In this suspended moment, time appeared to lose its grip as the only audible sounds were the rhythm of your synchronized breaths and the rhythmic beat of your hearts.

"I'm sorry too," you heard him whisper in your hair as he pulled away from you and left the tent, leaving you confused.

It was in that moment, surrounded by the fading light and the soft whispers of the forest outside the tent, that you realized the painful truth: nothing would be the same between you and Neteyam because

no matter what you did, you would never be able to make him love you.

And exactly this is the reason of your sleepless nights, which is why, in the middle of your melancholic nostalgia, you decided to take a little walk to the lake nearby to pass the time until daybreak which leads you to the lake. You currently sit on a mossy tree stump above the shimmering water allowing your feet to hang freely just above the glistening surface of the lake, instead of sleeping safe and sound like the rest of the village. The purples, greens, and yellows of the bioluminescent flora and fauna smile at you but you fail to smile back. Your heart heavy with a mix of emotions and your mind full of questions, you try not to think of more memories, each one feeling like a dagger, piercing your already fragile heart.

You try to understand, yet it's difficult for you.

After so many failed attempts and moments of acceptance in between, he still manages to confuse you with his mixed signals. The moment, when he hugged you, replays relentlessly in your thoughts as if burned in your mind, a vivid recollection that carries the weight of his proximity, the tempting linger of his scent, and the electric touch that ignited a fierce tension within you. It was an encounter that left an indelible mark, an irresistible dance between desire and restraint, etching itself into the deepest recesses of your longing soul.

You groan into your hands. You want to hate him. So much.

Three eclipses have come and gone since then, way too much time to think between that and the part where you made the decision to distance yourself from Neteyam. This time for real. You wake up earlier than everyone else, dedicating yourself to your work, skipping communal meals and shared gatherings entirely. You complete your tasks and retreat back to your home, like a ghost in the clan, yet living unscathed within your own space, seeking solace in the sanctuary of solitude.

Almost every hour, you find yourself battling with conflicting emotions. On one hand, you long to see him, to be in his presence, and to feel that familiar connection. But on the other hand, you remember his last words and the way he looked at you when he learned about your past feelings. Distance will be best for the both of you. The ache in your heart hasn't subsided, but you know the step is necessary for your own well-being, it's a shield you've built to preserve what little strength remains within you.

Yesterday, your changed behavior was noticed by Tsahik, so she confronted you directly, but she neither questioned you nor expected any form of explanation. Her words still echo in your mind, partly because forgetting the moment will be difficult with the way she looked at you with her kind eyes, as if understanding the depths of your heartache.

"My child," she laid her hand gently on your shoulder, her voice carrying the wisdom of the ages, "Sometimes the tides do not turn in the way we hope but that does not diminish the beauty of the love within your heart. Always remember that Eywa has woven the threads of affection and devotion. Thus, have trust that the stars will align one day, for love, in all its form, is a gift to cherish."

The words resonate deep within your soul, as you sit by the tranquil water, the soft glow of the plants casting an ethereal light around you, a gentle breeze rustles through the verdant foliage. In these moments of isolation, you reflect on the times you've spent with Neteyam, the moments that sparked the flame of attraction within you. You question whether those were genuine or merely figments of your imagination, the doubts swirling in your mind, clouding your judgment and feeding your insecurities.

The stars above seem to mirror the twinkle in your eyes, a bittersweet reminder of the unfulfilled desire for you can't comprehend why your heart continues to long for him despite your mind trying to move on. Your thoughts are deep in contemplation when—

"Can we talk?" The voice startles you, and you flinch sharply, almost letting out a scream. Your heart pounds heavily in your chest, the fright taking hold of you. Quickly, you turn around, only to see that out of everyone, Neteyam approaches you, his figure blending seamlessly with the natural surroundings.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," a crooked smile forms on his lips.

You look up, meeting his gaze with a guarded expression, unsure of what to expect from this encounter. His presence catches you off guard, causing your heart to skip another beat. The sight of him stirs a mix of emotions within you—longing, uncertainty, fear, but also a flicker of hope.

"You didn't," you lie, your voice tinged with coldness.

He nods his head towards the space beside you, "May I?"

Neteyam's eyes hold a certain earnestness, a silent plea for understanding. You just shrug your shoulders, and he interprets it as a yes. He takes a seat beside you, his movements graceful and measured, his tail gently swaying in the air, your shoulders and thighs nearly touching.

The silence between you is tense, charged with unspoken words and residual feelings. You let your feet dangle above the water. As you wiggle your toes, you feel a gentle coolness from the air mingling with the refreshing touch of the water below.

He clears his voice, "I've noticed your absence these past few days."

"Oh?" Your ears perk up with curiosity, surprised that he has noticed, "I was busy."

"You were missing from the meal servings as well," he notes, his words carrying a hint of concern.

"Yeah, I haven't had much of an appetite lately," you reply, sounding detached.

You aren't sure if you have misheard, but it seems like Neteyam has whispered softly to himself, "Me neither," although it can also be your mind playing tricks on you.

"You see, I, uh..." he pauses, seemingly struggling to find the right words which is so unusual for him, "Can I speak openly with you?"

"Don't you always?" Your voice still laced with a hint of coldness.

"Indeed," you noticed from the corner of your eye a brief tension in his hands that gradually relaxes, "I just wanted to let you know that there is no need for you to feel obligated to skip communal gatherings because of me."

You can't help but scoff at that, however, he remains undeterred by your reaction.

"It's okay if you don't want to see me — I will keep my distance if that is what you want, but, please, don't avoid the clan in an attempt to avoid me. Don't isolate yourself."

"Funny," you say bitterly, your gaze still on the water, "that you think you have that much power over me."

"That's not what I wanted to say, it's—"

"It's fine, Neteyam," you interrupt him, turning your head to him, your jaw clenched, "I get it. If the future Olo'eyktan says so, I'll comply. See you at the morning meal."

You attempt to get up, but he gently grasps your wrist, halting your movement.

"I can sense that something has changed between us, and it weighs heavily on my heart," his voice carries a hint of vulnerability.

"Things change," you respond as he loosens his grip, but you refrain from attempting to get up again, waiting for the conversation to end, "Is there anything else?"

"Yes," he shifts, causing your thighs to briefly brush against each other, "I've had time to reflect on our last conversation."

"Actually, let's not—" you try to interrupt him, but this time he doesn't let your words stop him.

"Let me say this one thing and after that you don't have to talk to me again."

You meet his gaze, which is filled with honesty and a touch of guilt. You nod and look at him, noticing how he rubs his hands on his thighs and takes a deep breath.

"I was caught off guard," he admits, his voice softer now, "When we talked, I mean; and when I learned that you used to feel an affection for me — I didn't handle it well. I'm sorry for the way I reacted and for the pain I may have caused you."

You remain silent for a few seconds remembering the unpleasant conversation from last time, before you speak, "We don't have to talk about it, it's okay."

"No, it's not okay!" You notice the tension in his muscles. "You see," he takes a deep breath, "I didn't understand why you would crush on me."

"You made that very clear," you remark.

"I regret my poor choice of words, and for any offense it may have caused. I immediately noticed that my words had an impact on you, but I was too overwhelmed to correct myself in the moment," he admits, a hint of regret in his voice, "Please know that the idea of you being attracted to me never has and never will disgust me," his eyes lock with yours as his voice gets quieter when he adds, "It scares me."

Upon hearing that, your features soften slightly, a flicker of empathy crossing your face, and the question leaves your mouth before you can think about it, "Why?"

Now he's the one shrugging, "Everyone has their own doubts and fears."

You're not satisfied with that response, and you want him to open up to you for which you are willing to meet him halfway. So you begin an attempt to make him elaborate on his statement, "I'm scared of many things." you watch him intently as you speak, "Accidentally plucking poisonous plants instead of the usual herbs, falling down the hallelujah mountains, being eaten alive by nantangs." And most of all, rejection. "I can't help but wonder what fears could reside within a mighty warrior like yourself."

His mouth twitches slightly upwards when you say that, but is quickly replaced by a neutral expression. "The possibility of someone seeing through my façade," Neteyam admits sighing, his voice laced with a mix of confusion and self-reflection, "Of someone truly knowing me," he holds your gaze, a certain vulnerability in them, "That terrifies me."

You are left speechless, completely caught off guard by his answer.

"But," you stammer, trying to find the right words to express your thoughts, "you're Neteyam, you're... perfect in everything you do. I never considered the possibility that you might have these thoughts."

He shakes his head, disagreeing. "No, definitely not, I am far off from being perfect. That's why I couldn't understand why you would have feelings for me," he confesses, vulnerability shining in his gaze. "Because I never saw myself the way you did. But maybe, just maybe, this is why I've been blind to the possibility of something more between us."

"If you're only here to make me feel better about myself..." you start, your voice trailing off.

"No," he groans in frustration. "That's not it."

"Then what is it?"

He chuckles at your reaction, "I get nervous when you look at me that way."

"What do you mean?" You are the one getting nervous because of his statement for he doesn't look nervous at all, on the contrary, he looks very relaxed and almost overconfident.

"Yeah, can't you tell my hands are all sweaty?" he lets you know with a smirk while he studies your face.

"Neteyam," you blink in confusion, "Are you okay?"

"You're not listening," he sighs, his smile dropping slightly.

"Then talk openly," you urge impatiently.

He takes a deep breath and looks you directly in the eyes. "I've come to realize that you mean more to me than just a friend."

Your features falter and your eyes widen, as the realization dawns upon you that your feelings have not been unrequited after all. "No."

"I have a crush on you, too," he whispers euphorically, confirming your thoughts.

"No, Neteyam, not now," you shake your head quickly, your mind filled with way too many thoughts and too much confusion. Instantly, you stand up as if stung by an insect, trying to maintain your composure.

"It didn't start now, it was always there," he admits, standing up as well, now towering over you and studying your face and your reaction again. "But I fear that I've missed my chance. And now, it seems like it's too late."

Ignoring his words entirely, you fixate your serious gaze on him, "You can't do this to me."

"What?" he blinks, seeming to comprehend your words, "Why?" his gaze momentarily shifts from one eye to the other with a swift glance, reflecting his confusion.

"Because all my life, I did everything to try to make you notice me. I went beyond my comfort zone, I did everything I could. But from you," You look at him, gesturing towards his entire figure as if the reason were obvious, "there was nothing. Not one single acknowledgment from you. I accepted it. I moved on. I made peace with the thought of just knowing you and supporting what is good for you," You find yourself almost breathless, your words tumbling out rapidly, but each one carries sincere meaning. "You can't come now, years later, and pretend that you have a crush on me. I can't go through that again."

He takes a step forward, clearly taken aback by your outburst. "I... I'm not pretending to—"

"And I'm so tired," you interrupt him, your voice faltering, "Now that I've finally let go of you, you can't say things like this."

"Let go?" he repeats, his voice filled with disbelief, "Of me?"

"Yes, Neteyam," you persist firmly. "Let go of you. I don't want you anymore."

The night air feels heavy with unspoken regrets and unfulfilled desires as the silence underlines the shared acknowledgment of the chasm that has opened between you. Neteyam's expression shifts from disappointment to determination, a flicker of hope dancing in his eyes. "How do I make you love me, then?"

It feels ironic that he's asking you that question, considering you used to be the one who always wondered how you could make him love you whenever you saw him. You groan in frustration, feeling overwhelmed by conflicting emotions.

"I worked so hard to accept things as they are. That is not fair, Neteyam." A mix of sadness and anger can be heard in your voice.

"Please listen," he pleads, reaching out to touch your arm. You close your eyes, turning your head away. "I've been blind to your feelings, consumed by my own worries and obligations, and I didn't see what was right in front of me, hurting you in the process. I'm sorry I caused you pain. If I had known sooner…"

"What then?" you interrupt, your voice filled with bitterness. "Do you think everything would magically change, and we'd be deeply in love with a family of our own by now?"

Neteyam pauses for a moment, processing your words, and a hopeful smile crosses his face. "Yes, that's a possibility."

You groan in exasperation and attempt to push him away, your frustration boiling over. "No, Neteyam. I can't keep living in this cycle of uncertainty."

As you push him away from you, your heart heavy, you walk away with determined steps, wanting to bring as much distance between him and you as possible.

"I love you!" he shouts after you, causing you to freeze in your tracks and turn around in utter shock. "I love you. And if that's not enough, then so be it. But I would rather be damned than let you go now, heading who knows where in the middle of the night. If you don't want me, I won't approach you, I won't come near. But don't run away from me."

Desperation visible in his voice, his words reach deep into your heart; the intensity echoing in the air, leaving a profound impact on both of you.

"I've been waiting for your love for far too long," you respond bitterly.

Taking cautious steps in your direction, trying to close the physical and emotional distance between you, he asks, "Why waste more time?" It feels as if an invisible force draws you together, intertwining your fates in this pivotal moment but you remain stubborn, too exhausted and clouded from the painful burn in your heart.

"I don't want you," you declare, the words slipping out uncertainly, as if trying to convince both him and yourself.

"Then look me in the eyes when you say those words," he challenges, his voice stern, gaze unwavering.

"I don't want you," you repeat, louder this time, trying to emphasize your resolve. However, instead of looking into his eyes, your gaze fixates on his face, tracing the patterns of his glowing freckles that your mind has memorized long ago.

The moonlight bathes the scene in a gentle gleam, and you both stare at each other in complete silence, the space between you filled with suffocating tension.

A knowing smile suddenly forms on his lips. "I don't believe you."

"I don't want you, Neteyam!" you exclaim, raising your voice even more, repeating the words over and over, in a desperate attempt to convince him, "I don't want you, I don't want you, I don't want you!"

He studies you intently for another moment, his eyes filled with hope.

"Your tail gives you away," he says triumphantly, his smile growing. And that's when you finally let go of your suppressed emotions. Your lower lip begins to tremble, and before you know it, you find yourself in his warm embrace, his strong arms pulling you impossibly closer to him.

"I want you," you confessed against his chest, your voice barely audible and filled with so much vulnerability, "After everything, I still want you."

"Shh, you have me," he whispers, his voice soothing and reassuring.

You sob, the weight of your emotions finally breaking free, and he tenderly pats your head, his fingers gliding through your hair. His touch brings a sense of calmness to your racing heart and gently dries your tears.

"I'll make up for all the time lost, I promise," his voice reaches your ear, soft and full of sincerity.

His words continue to soothe you, and at one point, he hums a faint melody that resonates deep within you, gradually bringing an end to your sobs.

"Do you recall the day you asked about my plans after my Dream Hunt, and I hesitated to provide an answer?" He asks after you calm down, his voice carrying an infinite sense of solace.

Your arms still around him, you nod against his chest, every word of that conversation etched into your mind.

"That day," he continues, "I have sworn to myself to admire your eternal beauty from afar, to cherish your body, mind, and soul until the end of my days," he whispers softly in your hair, "with the hope that one day I will hold you close and claim you as my very own."

You take a deep breath, feeling overwhelmed by his words and the emotions swirling within you. Slowly, you lift your head from his chest, your teary eyes meeting his with awe.

"I... I never imagined you felt this way," you whisper, your voice hoarse and fragile from your sobs. "To think that you've carried these feelings for me all this time, it's... I don't know what to say."

"Interesting," he comments, eyes with a gleam, lips playful, "You were just as oblivious to my feelings as I was to yours, so I guess that makes us even." A mischievous bunny-like smile plays across his face, transforming him into the youthful version of himself that you have fallen deeply in love with, no longer the mighty warrior following in the footsteps of the great Toruk Makto, but the young man who has captured your heart long ago.

You can feel tears welling up in your eyes again, overwhelmed by the weight of his words and the intensity of your own emotions. With a shaky breath, you reach to your waist, gently intertwining your fingers with his.

In the warmth of his arms, you find solace for your burning heart. His arms hold you tightly, offering a sense of intimate security that you've always wished for. But then, something shifts.

The intensity of your emotions begins to wane, and as you look up at him through tear-filled eyes, you see his gaze fixed upon you with unwavering love, trying to read you as he cups your face with his large hands. His thumb gently brushes away a lingering tear on your cheek, his touch delicate against your skin. A soft, affectionate smile graces his lips as he leans forward and presses a gentle kiss against the place where your tear was mere seconds ago. The sweetness of the gesture stirs your heart, a silent affirmation of his loving nature. He continues to kiss away your tears, each touch a soothing balm to your wounded soul.

A powerful desire burns between you then, as his soft lips linger near yours. His eyes meet yours again, seeking permission, and you respond with a silent nod. Right then and there, the world around you fades into the background, and all that matters is the connection you share. With a surge of passion, his lips meet yours in a fervent kiss, the longing coming to an end, hearts intertwined.

The tender touch of his lips against yours feels like an electric jolt that sends shivers down your spine. You both pull back slowly from the passionate kiss, breathless yet connected. Your eyes meet, gazing into each other with a depth of love that words can never describe.

His eyes hold unwavering sincerity as he caresses your cheek with his thumb. "You've captured my heart in ways I can't fully express," he confesses, his voice filled with affection. "And if you'll allow me, I want to show you every day how deeply I love you."

A deep blue blush tints your cheeks as you struggle to find the right words to respond. He doesn't seem to mind as a soft smile spreads across his face. He leans in, his forehead resting against yours, adoring the tranquil moment between two souls.

Enjoying each other's presence and your newfound attraction and happiness, you spend the rest of the night hand in hand wandering around mindlessly, exchanging loving gazes, talking about everything and sweet nothing's at once like two fools in love.

"Do you remember that day?" You hear him ask cheerfully as his free hand wanders to the songcord attached to his loincloth. You follow his movement and your eyes widen as you recognize the dried petals, intricately woven into one of the beads. "It was so unconventional, going against tradition. Who has ever seen a girl giving a flower to a boy? No one. But you didn't care. You were true to yourself, and you gifted me your favorite flower, and it meant so much more than just a little gesture."

Taking aback by his words and the bittersweet memory you can't help but smile widely as you inspect his songcord but confusion grazes your face at the same time.

"Wait—What do you mean? Lo'ak told me it's your favorite flower."

"No, he told me it's your favorite."

"Well, it became my favorite after I learned that it's yours."

A boisterous laugh escapes him as he throws his head back, his chest almost vibrating, and it is so contagious that you can't help but join in, the air filled with heartfelt laughter.

"It's gonna cause quite a scandal, but Lo'ak definitely deserves a good punch when he wakes up." You laughed, knowing that he meant that half-heartedly.

He delicately cradles your hand back in his, your fingers intertwining as he brings them up, his lips softly brushing against your knuckles in a loving kiss. The touch sends a warmth through your body.

"Speaking of scandals," you say sheepishly as you reluctantly let go of his hand, "maybe it's better not to enter our village hand in hand just yet?"

He chuckles at your suggestion.

"Maybe," he agrees, his eyes filled with adoration, his face leaning slightly forward, "Can I have one last kiss before that?"

You look at him challengingly, he mirrors your expression, a playful glint in his eyes, coming closer to your face.

Your lips almost touching for the second time this night, you whisper, "Only if you catch me."

With that, you run off, your heart blooming with excitement, and his laughter follows you through the enchanting forest as the sun rises, casting its warm rays across the sky, and you know that the future holds nothing but love for the both of you.

for anyone asking, neteyam does in fact catch you and gets his kiss(es) <3 thank you for reading, liking, commenting, reblogging 🤍 btw, what is your love language? 💕

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phaticserpent · 4 months ago

Note

Hi!! Are you up to making an NSFW alphabet for Jack Frost (ROTG)? I don’t see much for him in the fandom & it’d be cool to see some written fan content of him! ^^; if not that’s coolio 🫶 Also happy new year ^3^

!! I will do my best! :D

Warning: nsfw, suggestive and implied

NSFW Alphabet of Jack Frost (ROTG)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Truthfully, he's a pretty cuddly person. Years of isolation made him touch starved, after something so intimate and personal, he's clinging to you. His arms would be wrapped around your body, cooling you off because he's extremely cold

B= Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers)

Oh, definitely his chest and abdomen. He's slightly lanky but fit and toned, not too jacked but not too skinny. He especially loves your touches, your hands running down his chest and torso

C= Cum (anything that has to do with it)

I don't think....he can do that. LISTEN, he drowned in a freezing cold lake, if we're being logical, then he wouldn't be able to. But logistics aside, if he could, he'd accidentally cum inside. Immediately freezing everything as he realized what he did

D= Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory)

I doubt he has any, but after doing it a couple of times, he's developed the strange urge to start a family (I know it's human instincts). It started off as wholesome thoughts, wanting a domestic life with you which slowly began to morph into determination after realizing the process of reaching a domestic life. He wouldn't voice it, but given the amount of times he's finished inside of you and the relentless pursuit is there and a slight hint to it

E= Experience (do they know what they’re doing)

Eh, I feel like he's not experienced at all. Given his situation, he doesn't really understand it. In a relationship with him, you would have to initiate most of the advances, first kiss? You did that. He'd probably look so confused and lost when you asked and said you wanted to take the relationship to the next level. He assumed marriage.

F= Favorite position

Anything where he can see your face and body, he likes seeing you. He's more so fascinated, watching as his cock connects with you, feeling your warm walls squeezing and gripping him tightly as he continues to thrust into you. He finds it addicting - okay but he's definitely a switch though, he likes watching you ride him

G= Goofy (how serious are they)

He's the president of goofy, teasing you and easing up the tension (especially if it's your first time) - he'd crack a couple jokes or two, only if you're feeling embarrassed by something and he wants to lessen that. Nothing has to be perfect, he just wants to make sure that you enjoy yourself

H= Hair (grooming habits)

He wouldn't really have access to razors, but it's pretty clean and manageable

I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty)

He's a romantic. He may seem cold and feels cold, but he wants to make sure you're comfortable and feeling every inch of him. He would hold your hands as he rocks his hips, pushing into you

J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often)

To be honest, I don't think I see him doing something like that. I feel like he'd keep his private life separate from the outside, he wouldn't want to risk something like that. But in the confines of your room and house, he'd try if you're not there to help him relieve himself

K= Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual)

Temperature play, for sure, and marking. He doesn't really know, all he likes is your reaction to things. His cold fingers make you squirm and he likes watching how your nipples harden under his touch. The way your walls flutter around his cock when he marks your neck and shoulder. He's just figuring things out, but he'd be into anything that's for your pleasure (slight breeding)

L= Location (where they like to get it on)

Your room, your house, anywhere private. Your bed and sometimes, if bold enough, the couch and kitchen, bending you over and taking you right then and there

M= Motivation (things that makes them tick/turn ons)

You. Just you. Of course, he takes the time to appreciate soft gestures and moments with you, cuddling and kissing. Again with taking the first step, you mostly have to initiate if you want it or not. Sometimes, he'll get the hint when the kissing begins to turn more hands-on, and your hands slip under his hoodie

N= No (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do)

Anything that hurts you or anything that pushes a boundary between you and him. He knows temperature play can be risky, his touch isn't too cold and his fingers don't exactly freeze your limbs at first touch. But, he's nervous at times and wants to make sure that he doesn't cause any pain (marking is different and so is biting, he mostly started off as little nips here and there)

O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are)

He's never received nor gave, so he has no clue what he's doing when he goes down on you. But he definitely tries and for some reason, he's good at it. He eats you out like he's starving, wanting more. He doesn't object when you offer to do the same and he's definitely sensitive. Whatever you do, it's pure bliss for him, his head is thrown back, and he's holding onto anything to keep himself grounded

P= Pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed)

Okay, he's gentle and slow at first. If you ask him to go faster and rougher, he will. He loves hearing you beg and moan louder as he pounds into you

Q= Quickie (do they prefer fast and hard)

Well, it depends. He's not usually fond of it because I feel like he's the type of guy to finish something he started. Plus, just once is never satisfactory, he wants to make sure he can enjoy it as long as possible. On the other hand, he'd definitely do something like it to edge and tease you

R= Risk (do they like to try new things)

He's new, he's going to be taking small steps at a time. So, he'll be open to new things once he's comfortable moving up the scale

S= Stamina (how many times they can go and how long each round lasts)

Oh, he can go for hours and hours. He doesn't exactly get tired. If you rile him up since morning, he can go until the afternoon, making sure both of you are satisfied

T= Toys (are they game for using sex toys on themselves or lovers)

Never tried and not against the idea. He'd find it amusing and tease you if he accidentally walked in on you using a vibrator/toy during his absence. He'd definitely say something like, "miss me that much?"

U= Unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves)

He's a tease, with a shit-eating grin he would tease you until you whined and begged for him

V= Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk)

Absolutely. He'd talk you through it, whining and moaning into your ear at how good you feel, how tight you are, how hot you are. He's not loud, but loud enough for you to hear his every breath and whimper

W= Wild card (random sincannon of any sort)

He's a wholesome guy, I actually can't think of anything for this one. Unless being oblivious to his good charms and looks is one and he slowly appreciates how you fawn over him and those smirks of his

X= X-ray (what’s down below in dem pants)

I'd say he's around average, his height is around the 5'9 - 5'10 (?) I believe. So not too long or thick, just average but he definitely works with it

Y= Yearning (sexdrive level)

I wouldn't say he has a sex drive, sure he has a lot of stamina, but it's more so....You're hot and he likes to pleasure you drive. Your moans and reaction is his drive

Z= Zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after)

He'll mostly likely follow after you. Once aftercare is finished and taken care of, he'd hold you and feel your breathing slow down, taking in the comfort of the sheets and your presence. Once he sees the golden dreamsand circle around your head, he falls asleep after

#alphabet #jack frost rotg #rotg jack frost #jack frost x reader #reader insert #x reader #headcanon #rotg headcanons #rotg fandom #rotg fanfiction

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obsessivevoidkitten · 2 years ago

Text

Your Guardian Angel

Male Angel Yandere x Gender Neutral Reader (CW: Extremely dubious consent, stalking, possessive yandere, jealous yandere, general yandere behavior, manipulative yandere, emotionally manipulated reader, reader dies nonviolently but the story continues with them in the afterlife, reader's boyfriend momentarily has cancer, religious themes and concepts, heaven, angel disguised as a demon, mild biting, soul claiming, heartbroken reader) Word Count: 2.5k (This was written within one late night/early morning writing session and was not beta read, I hope you all like it and I apologize for any errors.)

Not everyone receives a guardian angel, there are simply too many humans in the mortal plane to meet that type of demand. Instead guardian angels are allocated based on greatest need to those who might be most vulnerable to dark forces and to those with stronger souls who would be too dangerous if corrupted by the likes of a curse, demon, or vampire.

But you were one such soul. Perhaps the trials you had struggled through in life had left your spirit bruised and battered and dark entities were primed to take advantage.

Or perhaps the things you had experienced had strengthened your will and that was reflected on your soul, making it a tempting mark for corruption.

Either way it really didn’t matter, the result was the same. You had a guardian angel, Eriphel.

Eriphel was, relatively speaking, still somewhat new to the work of guarding humans. He had been at it for a few human generations. Which was very short, considering the immortal life span of an angel. He was one of the younger angels that had been created for this task.

He protected each charge he had with complete determination, always near his assignment, remaining unseen to the mortal realm despite being on a plane that overlapped with it.

When he started watching you when it became apparent in your early adulthood that you required a guardian the job was no different from any of the others that he had.

But… there was something about you that fascinated him. He hadn’t allowed himself to pay much attention to the personal details of his previous charges.

Eriphel didn’t know what was different about you but he couldn’t keep his eyes off you. No matter what you were doing he just had to drink it all in. Watching you do your job, watching you cook, watching you read, watching you do all your little human hobbies, watching you do anything filled his entire being with such foreign alien sensations.

His heart fluttered and his chest filled with warmth and longing. He even felt his pants tighten with arousal for the first time in his life. It was so euphoric… and torturous at the same time. The longer that he was around you the stronger all these sensations became.

After around a year it was no longer enough for Eriphel to merely watch you. To be only a passive observer as your life played before him like a movie he had no control over.

He started sleeping beside you in your bed, wrapping his wing around you protectively. Of course you didn’t know he was there, but your sleep did noticeably improve. No nightmares or insomnia, not on his watch.

Eriphel also developed a habit of hugging you at work, wrapping his arms around whenever you became upset or stressed. It helped your mood a lot.

The angel’s divine light was washing over your soul in these moments and even if you could not see him he knew he was the best thing for you. But he also knew that eventually you would pass away as all mortals did and your soul would slip through his fingers as it transcended to heaven.

He couldn’t allow that, he had to take ownership of your soul in the same way that demons did.

If he made a soul pact with you then he got ownership of your soul when you eventually moved on and then you would be his and his alone until the end of eternity.

But he didn’t have to rush it, you were not in any great danger and he could protect you and keep you alive from any external threat that could threaten you… even if it violated a few rules to intercept mundane physical threats.

He had plenty of time.

Or so he thought.

A bit of time passed and you met someone. A man by the name of Jason. A mutual friend had set the two of you up. You tried not to think too much of it at first, how could this tiny insignificant human have any possible influence on you when your souls had felt the holy embrace of an angel’s wings?

But as the days turned into weeks turned into many long months it became obvious you were in love with him.

Eriphel wouldn’t stand for it.

He had been with you for nearly two years by this point.

He knew your favorite color, he knew your favorite foods, he knew every single password that you had for every website, he knew what expression you had when you were deep in thought, when you were annoyed, when you were in the middle of an orgasm.

There was nothing he didn’t know about you.

As he stood before you in the dead silence of night watching your lover spoon you protectively tears rolled down his cheeks. He had never cried before, but he recognized the behavior from the humans he had watched over.

Something had to be done.

If he could just claim your soul then he wouldn’t need to worry about the relative tiny amount of time you spent in this world because you would spend eternity with him when you passed on.

Eriphel decided he would interact with you directly as you slept. He’d disguise himself as a demon and make a deal with you. Then you’d be his and everything would be alright. He was shaking with the sheer anxiety of what he was about to do, he had barely said anything to a human before and even then that was only with some who were deceased.

That night you had a vivid dream, it was so real. A demon came to you and made you a fabulous offer of wealth beyond imagining. You couldn’t remember what he wanted, but you felt the price was too high. You were scared. You turned him down and ran.

Eriphel should have known an offer of wealth wasn’t enough to gain what he wanted from you, still he thought it was worth a try. He knew you’d at least be tempted by all the good you could do with money.

When you next saw the monstrous demon in your dreams you remembered it even more clearly than you had before. You were in a pristine palace of obsidian and red, richly decadent but with an undeniably sinister undertone.

The demon spoke in a voice that sounded like several people talking in unison.

This time it offered to let your parents live longer, to give them pristine health for their age so that they could spend more time with you.

This time you were tempted, you hesitated. But after some consideration you still declined before fleeing. Your parents weren’t in bad health as far as you knew and them having a few extra years wasn’t worth the price of your soul until the end of time.

Eriphel was homing in on the solution, getting closer to the offer that would have you as his. But he wasn’t there yet…

A couple months passed and you and your beloved Jason moved in together. But tragedy struck as not long after that your boyfriend went to the doctor to get some worrying symptoms looked at.

Cancer. Inoperable brain tumor.

The news broke you, but you had to put on a strong face for Jason’s sake. He had always supported you and been the strong one when you needed him and now he needed you.

Jason fell asleep with his head on your chest as you held him in your arms. You made sure he was sound asleep before you let yourself cry silently.

It took a long time but finally the emotional toll of the day caught up with you and dragged you into sleep as well.

Once again you were in that clean, rich, sinister building of polished red and black. The horned demon standing before you again, terrible and proud.

“I can save him. I can cure him with a snap of my fingers. All you have to do is agree to hand over your soul after your death.”

You were shaky, you couldn’t think clearly after the events of the day, you wanted nothing more than for Jason to live the full life he deserved. If it meant you had to be a demon’s victim and tortured for eternity after your death then so be it, the years you had growing old with Jason were worth any price.

“Yes! Please! S-save him!!!”

He smiled and approached you, grabbing you by your clothing.

“Wh-what are you-”

“This is how a soul pact is sealed. You do want this deal don’t you?” You nodded and hung your head silently as he peeled off each article of clothing one by one. Suddenly you were in a different room, laying naked on your back with your legs propped up on the demon’s shoulders.

You knew he was a wicked and power hungry entity but the way he looked at you was almost like a human looking upon a holy relic. He took his time, shaking hands rubbing up and down every part of you.

This was not how a soul pact had to be sealed, but he couldn’t wait any longer to feel you.

The red skinned monstrosity kissed up your thighs, careful not to harm you with his horns. He was as gentle as a lamb.

When he finally got to the point where he was lining up his large cock with your hole he kept that same gentleness. You thought he’d have just ravaged you but he didn’t do that at all.

The demon slid his cock in you slowly, this wasn’t your physical body and no lube was needed, he glided deep inside you painlessly and moaned loudly as he did so.

Heaven was nothing compared to being inside his beloved darling who before today could have only dreamed of what it felt like inside of you.

As he slid his entire length in and out of you he bit at your chest, hungrily, but not very hard. Not enough to really hurt. Just enough to stimulate you and to taste your skin. He trailed up to your neck and licked, sucked, and kissed there over and over again like it was some drug he was hopelessly addicted to with no chance of quitting.

Your hands gripped the bed sheets feebly as he began to pick up speed. You felt a bit sick. You didn’t think that this would be pleasurable. You thought this would be as painful as he could make it, but it was so good. It made it feel like you were really cheating on Jason.

Even if this was probably just a stress induced dream your brain made to help you cope with devastating circumstances.

Eriphel couldn’t last long, being his first time and doing it with someone so supremely important.

His pace remained steady as his strong hands gripped your hips and pulled you close, slamming you down to his full nuts as he emptied them into you and the two of you shared a mind shattering orgasm. You could feel your very soul being claimed by his magical seed.

The demon kissed you passionately and then you and Jason both woke up to the sound of his phone ringing.

It was the doctor.

He was calling to explain that the machine was busted and was showing false tumors. He wanted Jason to come back in tomorrow for a scan on a different machine. He was probably okay.

The demon had kept up his end of the deal.

The two of you hadn’t slept long but now with the new test looming over the both of you neither of you could manage to go back to sleep.

When the time came the both of you got in the car with him driving and you in the passenger seat. Everything was fine and you both tried to calm yourselves and not get your hopes too high. Jason was likely okay, but there was always that small chance that he wasn’t.

You idly looked at the houses and trees as they passed when you saw movement from the rearview mirror. The demon hissing and lunging towards you. You screamed before everything went dark.

Doctors later examined your body and determined that you suffered a massive stroke. Not really what happened. Eriphel just couldn’t wait to have you, and he never said that he’d let you grow old with that… thing… you called Jason.

No, he said he’d cure him. And he had. It had been easy enough to reverse the magic he had used to give him cancer in the first place.

When you woke up you were in a large white room that looked like it was made out of marble, gold, and silver. The lights around the room looked to be carved out of pure milky white crystal.

You were confused. If you had died by the hands of that monster wouldn’t you be in the place you had seen in your dreams?

“Hello.”

You turned to see a tall lean man adorned in white robes, his hair was sparkling silver, he had a pair of great wings outstretched from his back, the feathers looked as if they had been dipped in the most thin and fragile layer of silver possible. His whole body glowed with a faint white light and his eyes were an otherworldly shade of shining gold.

“I understand you are confused. I am Eriphel, I am an angel that scours the mystic planes for demonic presence and eliminates it where I can. You were attached to a foul demon, a parasite of human misery. I noticed this just in time and snatched your soul at the moment of your death…”

You took in his words while staring transfixed at his beauty. You were really dead then. You introduced yourself and thanked him several times before calming yourself a bit and asking what you desperately needed to know.

“Is this heaven? Will I eventually be reunited with my boyfriend?”

Eriphel had to suppress a bit of rage that began mounting at that last inquiry.

“Sadly, your soul was marked by a demon, you can never enter the proper realm of heaven without being cast to hell, where that demonic entity would surely get you. But you are safe here, in my home. You will have to stay here… forever…”

His voice was mournful, and his eyes were wet with sympathy at your plight… or so you thought. Eriphel was really just crying because his fondest dream had come true. With no one else to interact with and his intimate knowledge of your every like and dislike you’d certainly fall in love with him.

The angel pulled you into a comforting hug as you sobbed into his chest at never being able to see Jason again, and he smiled wickedly as he rubbed your back. No one else would ever come between you again.

#yandere teratophilia #yandere terato #yandere exophilia #yandere exo #yandere angel #gender neutral reader #yandere x reader #male yandere x gn reader #male yandere x gender neutral reader #yandere x gn reader #My OCs #My OC Eriphel #yandere scenario

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chilling-seavey · 1 month ago

Text

The Silver Arrows (gr63 + nr6)

↳ A/N: I am so excited to announce that I have written this fic as part of my first ever participation in a writing fest! Rare Pair Fest gave me the perfect 'excuse' to write the fic that had been marinating in the back of my mind for weeks and although it was hard to keep it under wraps, I can finally reveal it to you all!

↳ Disclaimer: I am so sorry for this Lewis Hamilton/Brocedes erasure just to satisfy my own fantasy…I respect you and all your accomplishments, Lewis, this is just for writing purposes for this one fic, I swear. Additionally, Nico is not married in this specific timeline; I cannot stomach writing him being unfaithful to lovely Vivian.

↳ Written For: @rarepairfest || Read on AO3

↳ Summary: Abu Dhabi 2016 ends with the high of Nico's World Championship win. Out of everyone in the world, only George knows that Nico plans to retire now that he's won the title. On their last night as teammates, they decide to celebrate the end of an era properly.

↳ Pairings: George Russell x Teammate Nico Roseberg x F1 Grid Girl (Nameless)

↳ Word Count: 22.6k

↳ Warnings: 18+, smut, mmf threesome, George is bi-curious (with arguably internalized homophobia) and his teammate helps him explore, oral sex (m and f receiving), nipple play, spanking, dirty talk, very minor degradation ("slut"), begging, rimming, anal fingering, cum play, anal sex, vaginal sex, George cries from pleasure, use of condoms.

The grid at the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix was buzzing with excitement for the last race of the 2016 season. Twenty-two cars were lined up in their grid boxes with mechanics and team members fluttering around them, working between the plethora of lucky fans who weaved their way through, donning VIP passes around their necks. The busiest section of the grid, unsurprisingly, was the front row, where two silver Mercedes W07s were lined up and prepped to perfection.

The Mercedes Formula 1 team was a force to be reckoned with ever since they took the Constructors title from Red Bull’s domination two years earlier. Since then, Mercedes had been at the top of their game in car after car that was virtually unbeatable. The engineering of such a beast was the talk of the sport but their impressive driver lineup was partially to thank too; without skilled drivers, their car wouldn’t be half as impressive to watch.

Nico Rosberg, just thirty-one years of age and starting from the second spot on the grid at the aforementioned Abu Dhabi Grand Prix, had been Mercedes’ pride and joy for six years. Despite consistently being a top contender during Mercedes’ dominant era in the last two years, he had always fallen just short of claiming the coveted World Champion title, narrowly outpaced by the likes of Sebastian Vettel and Daniel Ricciardo, respectfully. Heading into the final race of 2016, however, Nico held a narrow twelve-point lead in the Drivers’ Championship. Everything was on the line.

The driver breathing down his neck in the standings was none other than his teammate, George Russell. At twenty-six, George’s journey in Formula 1 had begun modestly with Williams, where he honed his skills and captured the eye of Mercedes who soon scouted him as their second driver. He joined the elite team just as they began their first season of success—a success many credited to George’s arrival. Though he had yet to claim a World Title, he was just twelve points shy of his teammate in the lead. What he wouldn’t give to beat his more experienced counterpart and snatch that Championship trophy before him.

There was no doubt that Nico and George were incredible teammates; arguably a pairing of an era. Both were fierce and strongly skilled competitors on the track but also got along incredibly well off track. Nico took George under his wing from the beginning, sharing in their history at Williams and helping to mould the development of their beloved Mercedes together. They were friendly with each other but, like the mindset of every Formula 1 racing driver, once they were in the car, it was every man for himself.

George stood outside his car, his focused gaze lingering on the bold red ‘6’ on his teammate’s car a few paces back from his as he fastened up his white race suit and made sure the wires and cords were in place. Nico was already in the car as the second passed towards the race start, helmet on and speaking to one of his mechanics who was leaning over the car into the cockpit. Tearing his eyes away with dire need to focus on his own race, George pulled up the headband from around his neck to secure it around the crown of his head to keep his hair out of his face, before taking his balaclava from the team member beside him.

Then, he was glancing at the young woman standing in front of his car, donning a purple dress and red beret, her gaze almost distant. He gave her a discreet once over before speaking to her, his words unintelligible.

She hadn’t anticipated being spoken to, especially not over the roar of the machinery and the twenty-two cars being started up, and so she leaned in a little towards him, “Sorry?”

George leaned in too with a small smile, speaking a little louder, “I said, your feet must hurt in those shoes.”

She glanced down at her ridiculously high heels then back up at him with a smile of her own, “It’s okay. I can lean my weight on this.”

She lifted the long metal dowel she had been holding onto, the sign secured at the top and reading RUSSELL 63 in bold type. The job of a grid girl wasn’t difficult (and arguably not important, either, in the grand scheme of things) but it paid sufficient money and she silently deemed herself quite lucky to have been assigned to the young and handsome George Russell for the season; always the one to be holding his sign in front of his car before every race.

Most of the grid girls weren’t acknowledged by their drivers and they were all strictly told to not speak unless spoken to so their shifts of standing and holding a sign were quite tiresome. George, however, always at least said hello to his assigned grid girl and, the odd time, shared a brief, surface level conversation. He was humble and kind and it always made her feel welcome in a grid riddled with men, or so he had hoped.

George pulled his helmet on over his balaclava and then climbed into his car, donned with the number 63 in brilliant sky blue against the silver livery. His team helped him get situated, hurrying to make sure everything was in order as the seconds ticked by. The crews started to move off the grid and that meant so did the grid girls. George was already intensely focused in his car so he didn’t even notice her slip away with her sign. She was used to it, going about undetected. It was her job to stand there quietly, after all, not to be his friend.

The grid girls made their way through the empty pitlane and into the large building that divided the circuit from the paddock. A perk of the job was getting to watch the races from the private Formula 1 VIP balcony and there, the girls gathered just as the formation lap came to an end. Twenty-two cars lined back up in their grid boxes to await the green flag at, subsequently, the illumination of the five red lights.

The engines rumbled from the cars, waiting patiently as the lights turned on slowly, one by one. George’s hands tightened on his wheel, staring up at them through his visor with nothing on his mind but to drive. Everything else fell away once he got in that car. He had a one track mind.

The five lights went out and he slammed his foot down on the throttle, tearing off from the first place line ahead of his counterparts and keeping his place. He cut into the first corner, keeping back his teammate with practiced ease and staying firmly in first. George let out a breath. Inhale, exhale. He just had to bring it home.

George drove a brilliant race; keeping his lead through all fifty-five laps without a single mistake. He knew it was yet another flawless race to add to his ever growing collection—another trophy to make room for on his shelf—but he knew it wasn’t enough. No matter how great of a race he achieved that day, his World Championship rested on the faults of his teammate. And his teammate was virtually faultless.

George led Nico past the checkered flag, ahead by only half of a second. As the two Mercedes crossed the line, fireworks erupted above the Yas Marina Circuit, bringing them home beneath sparks of pyrotechnics. As George slowed into his cool down lap, all he could hear was the roar of his car and the raggedness of his breathing, grounded by his racing heart thudding in his ears and an evil pit of disappointment churning in his stomach.

On his left, the identical car of his teammate met his pace and George raised a gloved hand out of his cockpit in a congratulatory thumbs up. Nico offered the same sentiment in return; and his hand was almost quivering with adrenaline. Just as Max Verstappen’s Red Bull and Sebastian Vettel’s Ferrari pulled up on either side of Nico for their own congratulations, George looked back to the road ahead to bring his car safely back to the team.

The radio in his earpiece crackled to life and his engineer spoke to him, “Amazing drive, amazing season, George. We’ll get ‘em next year.”

George pressed the button on his steering wheel to reply, keeping his answer polite and genuine and as void of the storm of emotions within him, “Yep. Thanks, guys. The whole team…everyone at the factory…everyone watching at home. What a season. Congrats to Nico. Onto 2017.”

Once parked in parc ferme, George went about the routine of getting out of his car without much thought. His mind felt like it was full of static, a jumble of emotions that he couldn’t quite work out in his hazy mixture of adrenaline and disappointment. On the other side of the pitwall, he could hear the roar of Nico’s Mercedes doing celebratory burnouts on the straight, clouds of smoke of burnt rubber rising from the asphalt and into the night sky.

George greeted his team over the metal fences, sharing hugs and pats in congratulations on his most impressive season to date. George knew he drove an impressive season and he knew Nico was just slightly better, but it didn’t make the sting of watching his dream slip through his fingers yet again any easier.

It was a blur for Nico, too, in his own way as he shared hugs of camaraderie with a few of his fellow drivers who came to congratulate him, barely recognizing who was who with how intense everything felt in that moment. Despite his internal battle as the pain of being runner-up settled uncomfortably in his heart, George met his teammate in the middle of parc ferme and gave him a congratulatory embrace, giving him a pat on the back and to his helmet. Through Nico’s open visor, George could see the crinkles by his eyes with how big he was smiling.

George headed into the FIA building and up the stairs to the cooldown room, his helmet and gloves in hand. The hallway was lined with the grid girls in their matching outfits and ridiculous heels, applauding for the top three, and he passed by them without another glance, still far too in his mind to think of manners at that moment. But, when he walked by that one familiar face just before reaching the door, she sent him a smile more genuine than the plastered on ones her counterparts wore. He smiled faintly at her in return and slipped into the cooldown room.

He set his sky blue helmet and matching gloves on the P1 pedestal and took the water bottle instead, unscrewing the gap and taking a lengthy sip to cool (and calm) down. Sebastian was already in there and he drifted over to George for a pat on the shoulder and a congratulations on his win and successful season. George tried to accept it with a smile but even he knew it must have fallen a little flat. In return, the well-versed five-time Champion offered him some brief words of wisdom that were drowned out by the influx of cheering coming from the hallway.

Nico came nearly bounding into the room, still donning his helmet and knee pads, embracing team members as he went. Lingering to the side with his water bottle, George watched as Nico took off his helmet and balaclava and set it aside to finally breathe, his blonde hair matted across his forehead and sticking up in all directions with sweat. George was sure his hair was no better and he turned back to the pedestal to take his Pirelli 1st Place Cap and put it on.

From behind him, Nico’s hands rested on his shoulders, giving him a little excitable shake to grab his attention. George turned around and Nico’s infectious smile had George’s bitter edge softening a little and he found his own lips turning up in the corners. Then, behind the explosions of fireworks and the noise of celebration muted through the windows of the cooldown room and the lively chatter from the hallway, Nico spoke in a lowered voice meant just for him, “Couldn’t have done it without you. Next year; yours.”

The honesty in Nico’s words hit him straight in the chest and George just stood there for a moment as his elder teammate—and, in the same breath, his mentor—gave him another pat on the shoulder. George stood and watched him for just a moment as he drifted away to speak with someone else, letting the meaning behind his statement settle on his conscience. Out of everyone in that room and, really, everyone in the world, only George knew the secret that Nico carried.

He was going to retire.

He confided in George that the season he won his World Championship would be the season he would announce his retirement from Formula 1.

With the adrenaline from the race diminishing and the reminder of how much George had accomplished under Nico’s wing, his momentary jealousy fell to pieces at his feet. Nico had meant so much to him over his career; even from his awkward beginnings at Williams and Mercedes Juniors…it had always been Nico who helped to mold him into the record breaking racer he was that day. To think they had just raced their last race together suddenly felt incredibly solemn.

George’s feet carried him across the room to where Nico and Sebastian were talking animatedly, sharing in their joy and excitement. The sight of him had Nico slinging an arm around his shoulders—having to raise up on his toes slightly to do so, however—and pulled his younger, lanky teammate closer, contorting him into a weird hunch.

“You’re a good rival, Georgie.” Nico teased lightheartedly. “Giving me grey hairs early and everything.”

Sebastian smiled between the two in their matching white and teal race suits as he sipped his water.

“Some might say I learned from the best but I’d have no clue who they’d mean.” George shrugged sarcastically, earning him Nico’s fist rubbing playfully at the top of his head. George slunk out from under his arm and gave his shoulder a shove, the two of them sharing lingering grins.

The post-race interviews and podium celebration went by in a blur for George. He hardly recalled lifting his first place trophy in the air or speaking to Coulthard about his feelings on the race and the season in front of the crowds, but, if nothing else, the shower of sparkling cider that was sprayed in his face by the hands of his teammate snapped him back into it. It would be their last podium shared and George was determined to make the most of it; drenching Nico in sticky expensive bubbly.

He and Sebastian shared the responsibility of pouring the remainder of their bottles into Nico’s mouth, the newest World Champion tilting his head back to catch the bubbling streams of liquid until it was cascading down his chin and his neck and soaking his race suit even more. George tried not to stare, not wanting the cameras to pick up on the fact that he was trying not to engrave the sight in his mind.

And then it was done. Trophies were carried off the podium and empty bottles were passed aside and media duties down in the paddock were completed routinely. George went through the motions like any other race despite the fact that he kept finding himself nearly glued to Nico’s side like he was his damn trophy-wife. He didn’t mean to look so pathetic, trailing alongside his World Champion teammate—whom he had four inches on; making his shadowing all the more ridiculous looking—through their post-race routines, but Nico didn’t bat an eye. He always liked George and was more than happy to accept his company on what only they knew would be their last race together. George was special to him.

They shared the excitement in the Mercedes garage where the team was spraying more champagne and hugs were going around from person to person. Even George got his fair share of hugs for a successful season and, of course, for helping achieve yet another Constructors Championship for Mercedes. Amongst all the chaos, George ended up in the striking quiet of the paddock out the back of the garage for a moment to breathe, leaving Nico to his conversations with nosy news outlets shoving microphones in his face.

George’s ears were ringing a little from the noise of the evening from the screaming of the crowds and the explosions of the fireworks, most of the paddock having either gone home or were busy in their associated garages to pack up from the end of the season. He rested back against the wall and took a cleansing breath, staring up into the inky night sky above Abu Dhabi and the waving palm branches along the strip.

The sound of a door opening had him turning his head to the side, watching as a group of grid girls came walking out of the building, back in their street clothes and chatting together. He stayed where he was, illuminated by the lights along the back of the Mercedes building, his eyes lingering on the one familiar presence amongst the small crowd. As if sensing his stare, she met his gaze and they shared a small smile. George cocked his head to call her over.

She parted ways with her colleagues, sharing end-of-season hugs and promising to stay in touch, and as they headed for the exit of the paddock, she made her way over to George. She hiked her bag higher on her shoulder, falling to a stop in front of him.

“Hey,” George pushed himself away from the wall a little to stand in front of her.

“Hey, race winner.” she smiled fondly, her voice a warm polite drawl.

George shrugged, “Race winner is nothing compared to what I could have had today.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.” she tutted, “Five points difference is almost entirely unheard of; you’re an incredibly impressive racer. This season was no more than a matter of chance at the end of it, really. Next year I’m sure you got him.”

“Yeah, well…” George faded out. His mind went back to the fact that he would have a new teammate next year, no longer sharing the highs and lows with Nico. It wasn’t his news to share and yet he really desperately wanted to tell her; to tell someone.

There was a pause between them.

George changed the subject slightly, “Are you coming back for next season?”

“Yeah, I hope so.” she replied, “Will you put in a good word for me?”

“You know I will.” George smiled honestly, his big blue eyes lingering on her. He added a flirty, “I want first choice for the most beautiful girl on the grid after all.”

“Oh really?” she flushed modestly, playing it off with a light tut.

“Yeah, really.” answered George with ease, “I think it’d look entirely wrong to have you out there holding any other driver’s number other than mine.”

“All I’m hearing is confirmation of the rumour that Formula 1 drivers are selfish.” she teased with a playful smile.

George laughed out loud, a warm, genuine sound that filled the night air in their momentary privacy. He was still in his racesuit and damp from champagne, his 1st place Pirelli cap still on his head and hiding his mess of cider-drenched hair. In the artificial illumination of the paddock under the night sky, he almost glistened, and the slight flush of his cheeks appeared extra rosy against his fair skin.

His brief laughter at her tease faded and the two of them just stared at each other a moment, as if memorizing one another. It wasn’t new, him staring at her. Most of the time he only really saw her when he was busy preparing for a race and she was stationed at the front of his car with his sign, but, in the odd times where nothing else held his attention, he always enjoyed staring at her. The fact that she always stared right back was almost thrilling, sending his heart doing somersaults in his chest.

After a moment, she broke their shared silence first, “Winter break is going to be painfully long.”

George’s lips turned up a little at the corners, as if easily understanding the underlying meaning behind her statement and sharing in its sentiment, “Incredibly so.”

“You know—” she started.

At the same time, George spoke too, “I wasn’t sure if—”

The two of them shared soft laughter at the synchronization and then she gestured to him to speak first.

“I was just going to say,” George cleared his throat, staring into her eyes like he always did when he spoke to someone, “I wasn’t sure if you’re living in the Monaco area but I wouldn’t mind maybe grabbing a coffee or something together over the break?”

Her eyes widened at his offer, taking by slight surprise, “Oh. I mean…yeah. Yeah, that’d be really nice.”

George’s face relaxed, “Yeah?”

Just then, the back door opened and out came Nico, surprisingly alone. He let out a heavy breath and stalked over to the pair of them, clapping his hand to George’s shoulder with that smile that hadn’t seemed to leave his face since the checkered flag.

“Hey, what’s going on out here?” he greeted.

George offered him a polite smile, hiding the slight swell in his heart at the sight of his beloved teammate, “Nothing. Just chatting.”

Nico glanced between you both and then sent George a pointed glance, “Just chatting? You’ve got a beautiful girl in front of you and you’re just talking about, what, the weather?”

“No,” she cut in with a casual statement, all without taking your eyes off George in front of her, even as Nico glanced your way, “he’s been a pretty good flirt too.”

Nico’s face contorted into an expression of amused pride and he looked back at his teammate, giving George’s shoulder a squeeze, “Oh, really now?”

George let out a breathy chuckle, pushing a hand through his hair, “I wouldn’t say flirting. Just...friendly conversation.”

“Friendly, huh?” Nico teased, his grin widening, tightening his hand on George’s shoulder, “Well, I’ve seen your every-day version of friendly, and let me just say, it’s not half as charming as what I just walked in on.”

She laughed softly, the warm atmosphere between the three of them feeling effortless, “He is always incredibly charming.”

“I should have known you’d be good at this, Georgie.” Nico badgered with a voice thick with friendly teasing, “Always a smooth talker when it counts.”

George chuckled softly, his smile returning to its usual confident charm without taking his eyes off the young woman in front of them, “I dunno, I’m still trying to figure out just how to properly impress her.”

Nico smirked, leaning in just a little closer to his counterpart with his hand squeezing his shoulder, his voice dropping to a lower, almost conspiratorial tone, “Well, you might want to do more than talk. You know, it’s the actions that really do it.”

She couldn’t help the slightly nervous laugh that slipped from her lips at what the older man was implying; her hand raising to cover her mouth and she turned her face away to hide her amusement. George was thankful that at least that way she would not have to face the crimson that was inching across his cheeks at the same time. Nico only grinned and gave George’s shoulder a jostle.

Then, he was speaking, “Right, so what do you two say we keep this little party going? I was thinking about having a little private celebration back at my apartment if you both would be interested. I’m flying back to Monaco tonight and you’re welcome to join me. Celebrate the right way, yeah? Just us. What do you think?”

George exchanged a quick glance with her, a shared look of intrigue and curiosity. His heart leapt into his throat: a private celebration…just them. When he didn’t see any hints of doubt on her face, he turned back to Nico with a slight nod, “That sounds good.”

“Great,” Nico said with that handsome smile of his, “I have to wrap up some things here but let’s meet at the hangar at 10:00.”

“10 is good.” George nodded in agreement.

“‘Sounds good’, ‘ten is good’; everything is good to you tonight.” Nico laughed teasingly, far too excitable to have much of a filter, and gave George’s bicep a squeeze as he stepped away. “See you then.”

As Nico disappeared inside, George turned to her with a soft smile, his voice quieter now, trying not to let the hints of trepidation appear, “Well, looks like we’re in for an interesting night.”

She smiled back and George could have sworn he saw a sparkle in her eye as she replied, “I’d say so.”

George was definitely not a virgin, he would have that known, thank you. He had a handful of girlfriends in his twenty-six years and plenty of blurry one-night stands or the odd repeat no-strings-attached connection—the joys that came with a Formula 1 career, really—and he prided himself on his well-trained collection of sexual experiences over the last decade. Sure, the beginning few were memories he kept locked away but he had definitely grown and, not to be cocky or anything, but he was sure his recent few partners in passing would gladly speak to his skills.

Despite the double-digit body count he held in his back pocket, sitting in Nico Rosberg’s Monaco penthouse that Monday night, George suddenly felt incredibly inexperienced. He had shared his teammate’s private jet back to the Principality, went home just long enough for a quick sleep and shower and shave, before finding himself sitting on the expensive white sofa in the living room.

Nico was across the room, pouring drinks at the silver bar cart, still buzzing off of his day-old Championship win and talking excitedly about this or that, his voice almost echoing in the spacious apartment. George bit his tongue from reminding him that technically he wasn’t World Champion until the formal awards’ ceremony in a fortnight; who was he to deny his comrade his excitement after he had been so kind and taken him under his wing for years.

On George’s right, his grid girl was sitting beside him in a modest floral dress with her hair done and a light face of makeup, resting on the couch where his arm was draped over the back. He could smell her perfume with how close she was and he kept catching himself glancing between her and Nico like he didn’t know where to look. She was listening politely to Nico’s ramblings, pitching into conversation where she could and seeming to fit in just fine with the two of them. George might have been a bit in awe of her for that.

It wasn’t unheard of for some of the grid girls to be invited to parties with the drivers and even to spark up hushed relationships with them here and there. Some of her colleagues spoke in whispers about their own thrilling one-night-only stories that had her sworn to secrecy; so once she found herself sitting in the multi-million euro penthouse with not one but both handsome Mercedes drivers, she felt a little out of her depth.

Naturally, she shifted a little closer to George’s side, marginally so. He noticed, stealing a glance her way, and his arm around the back of the couch dropped a little closer, just enough to brush his fingertips over her shoulder and the light fabric of her dress. He hadn’t realized how captivating her profile was until then, really taking a moment to stare at her in the cozy light of the living room and the orange-hues of the setting sun over the skyline.

Nico, finally finishing pouring the drinks, flashed a cheeky grin as he turned back toward the two of them with the three crystal glasses balanced in his hands, “Alright, I’m thinking we all need to toast to this incredible season.”

He came over to the couch and she and George took their glasses from him with soft thanks. Nico then sat on George’s other side, sandwiching him between them both, thighs touching. George scuffed the toe of his socked foot along the hardwood chevron floor as he shifted in place and raised his hand to meet in the middle to clink glasses.

From his left, Nico announced, “To two championship wins, being the best damn team in the sport for the third year running, and to George carrying on the Mercedes domination for years to come.”

George could feel the young woman’s eyes glancing between them at that last sentiment but no one spoke to it. Instead, they shared fleeting notes of agreement and clinked their crystal glasses together before taking a sip of their drinks. The momentary silence stretched on for a moment before Nico leaned forward, setting his glass down on the coffee table with an exaggerated sigh.

“You know,” he began, his voice laced with amusement, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen George this quiet in my life.”

The young woman laughed softly, glancing at George, “Really? He seems pretty comfortable to me.”

Nico smirked and lounged back on the couch himself alongside them both, “Oh, he’s comfortable, alright. Too comfortable, if you ask me. Georgie here normally never shuts up. He only gets like this when he’s got something—or someone—on his mind.”

George groaned, already feeling the heat in his cheeks, “Blimey, mate, do you ever stop?”

“Not when I’m right,” Nico shot back, winking past him to the woman on his other side, sharing in the moment of playful banter, “and judging by the way you’ve been sitting so close to her since the second you sat down, I’d say I’m right on the money.”

Where others might have been passive in the private company of two Formula 1 drivers, this young woman refused to back down, meeting Nico’s teasing gaze with a smirk of her own, “Maybe he’s quiet because you haven’t allowed him a word in otherwise since we got here.”

“Oh, she’s quick,” Nico declared with a playful grimace and a playful scoff.

George shook his head at his ridiculousness, but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed his amusement. He could feel his heart beating hard in his chest and with another sip of his liquid courage, he wanted to see just how much he could push this. So he turned to the woman on his right, his voice quieter but no less playful, “I think he’s just jealous.”

“Jealous?” Nico echoed, feigning offense, “I don’t get jealous…I have no need to get jealous. I’m just...invested in my teammate’s happiness, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh,” she replied effortlessly, taking another sip of your drink, “and how exactly do you plan to ensure his happiness?”

Nico leaned back in his spot, his smirk taking on a more wicked edge, “Oh, I’ve got a few ideas.”

She leaned in, prying a little further, “Perhaps ideas that tie into your toast of ‘George carrying on the Mercedes domination’?”

George and Nico exchanged glances as if debating if they were going to bring up the secret that only they knew. George knew it wasn’t his place to speak so he let the silence linger for only Nico to fill it how he saw fit. Finally, after a beat, Nico’s eyes softened under the lingering stare of his younger teammate and he looked back over at her.

“Well,” he began with a breath, his voice steady but tinged with gravity, “between us three here, I’ve made a decision. After the awards ceremony this year, I’m retiring. I won’t be back in Formula 1 next season.”

George’s eyes flickered to the young woman to gauge her reaction, watching how her eyebrows raised and her mouth fell open slightly. She blinked once, twice, and then, “Oh. Wow. That’s…a big decision.”

Nico chuckled warmly and clapped a hand on George’s shoulder proudly, “Yeah. I’ll be passing the reins on to my very capable mentee here. So, I thought tonight could be a celebration of sorts—of everything we’ve accomplished together and our final season as teammates. One last hurrah.”

“That’s...huge,” she said finally, leaning back slightly as if giving the moment the space it deserved, “I mean, congratulations, of course, but it’s hard to imagine Formula 1 without you, Nico.”

“Yes, it will be an adjustment but it feels right.” Nico shrugged, glancing back at George who was already staring at him unwaveringly, big blue eyes almost unblinking. Nico was used to his teammate’s intense gaze, and he reached over to gently nudge George’s cheek with a friendly smile, trying to bring the mood back to where it had been. “Enough of the heavy stuff now. How about this celebration?”

“What exactly did you have in mind?” George asked, trying to keep his voice at an even tone so as to not expose the anticipation of the unknown that was bubbling up inside him.

“Well,” Nico reached forward to pick up his glass again, always such an expert at playing it cool, “I was thinking we could move somewhere a bit more comfortable…a little bit more intimate to kick this up a notch. What do we think?”

George’s mind raced as the unspoken invitation settled over them. His heart warred with itself—one part of him burning with curiosity and a longing he hadn’t dared name, and the other whispering that this wasn’t who he was. At least, not who he thought he was supposed to be. He glanced at the woman with them to gauge her reaction, surprised to see the intrigued smile on her face and the way her teeth sunk into her bottom lip. Without a word she nodded in agreement and then met George’s gaze to hear his thoughts.

Now both she and Nico were looking at him expectantly, and George didn’t know what to do. He had wanted to take her out properly first—have a real date, ease into something meaningful—before suddenly jumping into bed with her. And for a threeway at that. Yet the thrill it held, the lack of barriers or awkward first-date conversations, was tempting.

And then there was Nico.

George’s gaze flickered to his mentor, his friend, the man who had guided him through the ranks of Formula 1. Nico was everything George had aspired to be—brilliant, charismatic, unshakably confident. George had admired him since his awkward, gangly teenage years, staring up at the podium where Nico stood as the rising star. He couldn’t deny that he always knew Nico was attractive but he never let himself think anything more of that; their shared ice baths or training sessions were simply professional and he was very good at putting things out of his head when he needed to.

Oh, God, he had truly pushed so much out of his mind over the years: so much he didn’t want to burden Nico with—hell, burden himself with. Now, George was trapped between a beautiful woman and a gorgeous man with the offer of exploring more without complications or judgment dangling right in front of him. Was he really considering this?

For a fleeting second, his old instincts kicked in, the ones that had always whispered to him to stay safe, stay predictable. But then Nico smiled at him—warm and encouraging—and the last of his resistance unraveled. He knew he’d be absolutely stupid to decline. Besides, deep down he must have been prepared for this offer in some way based on how thoroughly he showered before coming over.

Fuck it.

The plush king size bed sank dreamily under George’s weight as he settled on the edge of the mattress. His eyes followed Nico’s movements as his mentor set his half-empty crystal glass on the nightstand with a dull clink, his navy button up already unbuttoned twice from the top. George wasn’t sure when he had done that but, regardless, now he found his eyes lingering on the pale triangle of exposed skin beneath the jewel toned fabric of his shirt.

He was torn from his thoughts by a gentle hand on his shoulder and, from behind him, his gorgeous grid girl leaned in to press a fleeting kiss to his cheek. She gave his shoulder a squeeze as she settled in place on the bed beside him, draping herself against his body and nosing at his earlobe. From only the fleeting touches but with the promise of more dangling in the weighted tension in the room, George could feel his cock twitch in his slacks in anticipation.

Nico finished their trio on the girl’s other side, the two men eyeing her up as she settled between them. Almost like he were an experienced pro in more than just motorsports, Nico’s hand gravitated to her thigh and just up under the hem of her floral dress. George’s eyes were locked on the subtle movement, watching the way goosebumps rose over her smooth skin under the ghostly touch of Nico’s slender fingers. Nothing had even happened yet and George was already feeling his heart racing hard in his chest.

“You look so nervous, George.”

Nico’s sudden statement had George’s attention snapping up from the girl’s lap to his teammate’s smirking face. He was sure he looked a mess, flushed cheeks and all. It was getting harder to hide the intrigue that he was once so good at pushing to the back of his mind.

“First threesome?”

George chucked faintly, trying to brush off the hints of uncertainty and anticipation brewing inside him without showing just how much out of his depth he really was, “Something like that.”

“We’ll take it slow,” Nico promised in a breath, his voice warm and low and comforting.

His hand slid farther along the inside of the beautiful woman’s thigh and her attention was drawn to him, pulled in by his alluring presence that even George couldn’t fault her for. Nico was, in all senses of the term, completely captivating. The woman between them was no less than beautiful herself and George had accepted that realization since the first few races of the season when she was assigned as his Grid Girl. Now, looking between them as the two beautiful figures stared at each other with a shared tension of desire blossoming between them, George didn’t know who to focus on more.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to grapple with that decision for long because they both then leaned in to share a tentative kiss between them. George’s heart leapt into his throat, watching as she and Nico eased into lingering kisses that filled the quiet bedroom with the soft sounds of their lips meeting and parting. With an instinctual lick to his lips, George watched the connection of their mouths and the lock of their lips, how they moved together like some effortless dance.

Her laugh was sweet and low against his lips and George could see Nico smile into it as his hand raised to cradle the side of her face. They were a vision George couldn’t look away from, taking in every atom of their connection like he wanted them engraved in his brain so he could still see them when he closed his eyes. He caught himself lingering on Nico’s profile a little longer, taking in the flex of his jaw and the lines of his face as he kissed the beautiful woman in front of him. In his hazy mind, George wasn’t sure if he wanted to be Nico or be the one he was kissing like that.

Forcing the thought aside, George shuffled a little closer to the pair and let his hand rest against her thigh, gently caressing just beneath the hem of her dress. Despite the uncertainty of the situation, George had gone through the rhythms before; well versed in touching and pleasuring women. The goosebumps that rose over her thigh as his fingers played with her skin were a hint of proof and the way her breath hitched as his fingers slid farther along her inner thigh sealed the confirmation.

She pulled away from Nico’s lips and turned her head towards George, easily taking him in for a just as needy kiss. George groaned lowly as he met her pace, eyes fluttering shut to melt into it as he tasted her mouth for the first time after a season of dreaming about it. Perhaps, if he was delusional enough, he would claim he tasted Nico’s mouth on her tongue. Maybe that’s just what he told himself.

With the ever-present awareness that Nico was watching them, George put on his best efforts, helping himself to her mouth with his tongue until she was whining into his sloppy kiss. Nico’s hands slid around her back and unzipped her dress and, without breaking away from George, she let the floral fabric fall down her arms.

She wasn’t wearing a bra and almost immediately, the older man’s greedy hand went right to her chest, pinching one of her hardening nipples between thumb and forefinger. Nico had a sly grin over his handsome face, watching the way her skin pebbled under his touch before he was dipping down to take her nipple in his mouth.

She broke away from George with a sweet smile and a little gasp, leaning back onto her hands to stare down at the way he sucked on her breast and slicked her up in his spit. George watched his teammate’s mouth work on her just as intently while his hand tugged at the bunched up fabric of her dress around her waist to encourage her to lift her hips so he could take it off of her. She complied obediently and the dress was discarded to the floor.

The rustling of sheets, of clothes, the panting of breaths, and the landing of wet kisses over slowly exposed skin; the bedroom was a flurry of rising passion. The trio ended up moving more to the centre of the bed, the woman’s lips being shared between the two men as they stripped down until the three were only left in their underwear. She was framed by two handsome, well built, athletic men, urging her hands to touch all over them, wherever she could reach. Despite her attention, George’s eyes kept flicking over her to Nico.

He looked so casual like he had been doing things like this all his life, busy tending to the beautiful woman between them with his lips on her neck and making her expression fall into withering pleasure with ease. George took his hand from between her legs, fingertips faintly slick from the dampness that saturated her panties, and, in a fit of bravery, reached his hand out to rest on Nico’s bare knee. The man didn’t even flinch, still licking and sucking at the woman’s neck.

George slid his hand up higher, feeling the faint hair and firm muscle of Nico’s thigh under his damp fingertips. He caressed his skin slowly, timidly, testing the waters and the limits. He felt so wrong for doing that, as if at any moment, his teammate was going to pull away from his ministrations and tell him off. But he didn’t. In fact, George could have sworn he saw him spread his legs a little wider on the bed to permit him closer.

The gorgeous woman giggled, watching George’s hesitation. With a brave hand, she took his wrist and pulled his hand across her lap and right to the front of Nico’s snug briefs. George nearly choked on his spit, eyes bulging out of his head as he stared at his hand on Nico’s crotch. He could feel the shape of his dick through his briefs, the warmth of him, the thickness.

George swallowed, trying not to think about the fact that he was nearly salivating.

“Is he hard already?” she asked in a purr, interrupting his short-circuiting mind as she pushed her hand through his hair.

George licked his lips, watching his hand timidly rub the obvious bulge beneath the thin fabric, barely managing out a, “Yeah…getting there.”

Nico pulled away from her neck with a playful smile, directing to the group, “We’re getting nice and acquainted now, aren’t we?”

His eyes were on George’s next, a storm in his irises that had the younger teammate’s stomach flipping with unspoken anticipation, and his smile still ever present on his face. Nico licked and bit his kiss-swollen lips as George palmed him warmly over his underwear, letting out a small hum of approval at the friction. George pressed his hand down a little harder, feeling the way Nico’s cock twitched and his hips bucked up ever so slightly against his touch. His lips parted in near awe.

The woman’s dainty fingers pushed through George’s hair again and scratched gently at the nape of his neck, pulling a small groan from his throat, his eyelids fluttering dreamily. He felt like he was dreaming; a wonderful, pinch-yourself kind of dream…and nothing that noteworthy had even happened yet. Then suddenly, he wasn’t quite sure who exactly made the first move, but Nico’s underwear was coming off and he was settling himself back against the upholstered headboard entirely nude.

Nico’s dick was impressively average. The thought had George almost laughing out loud with the irony of it all; Nico Rosberg, Mercedes’ Golden Boy, Formula 1 World Drivers’ Champion, a man larger than life itself, had a perfectly standard cock. Oh, how to humanize the man he had put on a pedestal for so long. Of course, there was nothing wrong with that and, even still, George found himself craving him more than ever. It was getting harder to push those thoughts to the back of his brain and hide them under forgotten memories.

George watched as the girl crawled her way up Nico’s outstretched legs and leaned over him for a sloppy kiss. Her lacy hot pink thong was nestled between her cheeks and George’s eyes lingered on the curve of her ass and the flesh of her hips and the slight arch of her back. His hand reached out to drag down her spine, feeling each soft bump of her vertebrae until he reached her tailbone and then caressed his warm palm over the shape of her ass. She pulled away from Nico’s lips and tossed her hair over her shoulder as she glanced back at George, giving him a sly smile and a little wiggle.

“You can spank it, if you want.” she told him.

Nico’s fingers threaded through her free flowing hair to brush it out of her face absentmindedly, his attention drawn back to George who lifted his hand just enough to drop it back down against her ass with a sharp smack. Her soft gasp was almost erotic in itself and George let himself squeeze the blushing flesh of her ass in his greedy hand. Then, without another word, she was moving down Nico’s body, kissing down his chest and faint abs and settling herself between his legs.

“Perhaps we should start off with our World Champion?” she purred.

George tried to ignore how that simple sentence sent a plethora of emotions through his mind and heart—a reminder he wasn’t World Champion and a reminder that he wasn’t either giving or receiving. Perhaps he would do well with some watching to start off.

So, George shifted forward on the bed for a better view as she teased her tongue along the length of Nico’s dick all while her siren eyes stared up at him. She took him in one hand, helping to smear the tip against her spitty lips before finally taking the head in her mouth. Nico sucked in a tight breath at the sensation and George’s eyes flicked up to him for a moment, watching how his face contorted in a pleasured furrow as he stared down at the woman between his legs.

She hummed pleasantly as if she was thoroughly enjoying herself and her free hand reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear. Almost by instinct, George reached forward and gently brushed her hair back from her face and held it in a messy makeshift ponytail for her so she could more easily start to sink her mouth lower on his teammate’s cock. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of her lips wrapped around his girth, the slight stretch of her jaw to accommodate him, the dampness that lingered behind from her mouth on every up-stroke.

Just then in a voice far too complacent for the circumstance, Nico cocked his head at George, “Come up here, mate. The view is incredible.”

George tried to ignore how the ‘mate’ made him feel a little funny and, instead, he gently let go of her hair and shifted farther up the bed to join Nico back against the headboard. From that angle, almost shoulder to shoulder with him, he could see directly down his naked body to where the woman was sucking pleasantly on his cock. George was entranced for a moment, watching her pretty face nestle itself lower and lower towards his teammate’s pelvis, taking more and more of him as her mouth made the filthiest sounds.

“Such a good girl,” Nico praised lowly, his voice thick with pleasure, while his hands took over in her hair to hold it back from her face himself, guiding her into her steady motions.

George tore his eyes away from the woman to glance to his right where his teammate was resting comfortably against down-filled pillows and the upholstered headboard. Nico’s eyes were heavy-lidded, pupils dilated with lust, and his jaw momentarily tightened in unrestrained satisfaction as a faint flush touched across the apples of his cheeks and down his neck. It was a version of Nico that George had never seen before; so pleasured and without inhibitions. Enchanting.

Nico let out a small breath that was laced in with a groan as the wet sounds of the woman’s mouth on him grew louder, more pronounced, as she worked him masterfully. George glanced back down at her, watching Nico’s fingers tight in her hair and how his bicep tensed slightly as he tried not to yank her too far down. Without a thought, George’s hand reached for the front of his underwear and gave himself a small squeeze over the thin fabric.

He hadn’t realized he was already growing hard until that moment, finding his dick straining against the material of his briefs under his palm. George sucked in a tight breath as the pleasure sensors sizzled under his touch and he kept his palm rubbing over his clothed erection with his eyes flicking between the woman giving the blowjob and the handsome man receiving it. A moment later, his attention still focused between his counterparts, George slid his hand under the waistband of his underwear to touch himself properly, giving himself a few lazy and restricted strokes with his fingertips.

It was a whole new situation for George; sitting there watching two people succumb to their desire right in front of him. He couldn’t look away at first, taking in every ounce of their moment, until, again, he glanced over at Nico sitting shoulder to shoulder with him. It was as if the look of his teammate’s expression was more interesting than the sight of the woman going down on him. George couldn’t look away.

After just a moment, as if sensing he was being watched, Nico glanced over at George and their eyes met. They were sitting so close together on his bed that it almost felt like their noses were about to touch. A sly smirk grazed Nico’s face, his blue eyes flicking between George’s own and his lips parted in near-wonder as he stared right back. A certain motion from the woman between his legs had Nico’s eyebrows furrowing for a split second and his breath inhaling, all without taking his eyes away from George.

“Like what you see, George?” Nico taunted, his voice a little breathless, the slight hint of an accent that embraced his words feeling a little thicker.

George licked his lips, his hand still working beneath the confines of his underwear as he firmly kept Nico’s unwavering gaze. Distracted by their eye contact, George didn’t even realize that his touch on himself started to grow a fraction more insistent.

“Yeah,” George replied in a breath, his chest feeling tight from how hard his heart was pounding, “Very much so.”

“Yeah?” Nico played some more. His eyes dropped down George’s lean and fit torso to the moving lump under the front of his underwear where his hand was moving around his cock. Nico, more sure of himself at thirty-one than George still was at twenty-six, reached out to grasp George’s wrist and pull his hand out, “So come participate. Never took you to be just a spectator.”

“I didn’t want to interrupt.” George protested meekly.

“What if I want you to interrupt?” Nico challenged.

The two men stared at each other for a moment, the only sounds in the room being their rhythmic breaths and the lewd noise of the woman’s mouth still working lazily around Nico’s dick. The tension was crawling up George’s spine and wrapping itself around his throat. He felt sick with anticipation.

Before he could make any move, Nico was sliding his hand around the back of George’s neck and grabbing firmly. It was a move he often did after races, a moment to pull their helmets together for a head bump in shared congratulations behind the noise of parc fermé, but here, now, it held so much more behind it. His slender fingers curled into the roots of George’s brunette waves, giving him a little tug at the nape of his neck to pull him closer. George couldn’t help the small gasp that slipped from his throat.

Their noses bumped first and George sucked in a breath, his wide eyes still boring into Nico’s half-lidded ones no matter how much he was turned on at that moment. He could feel Nico’s ragged breaths against his cheek and it had him habitually licking his lips once more, wetting them, mind whirling over what this night was going to progress into.

Then, in a moment equally fleeting and painfully long, Nico pushed his lips onto George’s.

The first kiss was messy and off-centre, earning more skin than lips to meet, but it was immediately followed by a second where Nico took the lead and slotted their lips together properly. George initially tensed, inhaling sharply into their motionless kiss and freezing in place. But, when Nico went to pull away, George all but lunged forward, grabbing the back of his teammate’s neck in return and yanking him back into a heated kiss.

Nico groaned lowly into it as they shared slow, sloppy, tentative kisses, hands grasping onto backs of necks and skin feeling hot to touch. As their heads tilted to deepen their kiss, George slid his hand down Nico’s chest, resting it over his pecs and feeling each rise and fall of his every breath. George’s mind was whirling, and yet, at the same time, felt like it was filled with nothing but static. Was this really happening? He would pinch himself but, fuck, he really didn’t want to risk waking up.

“Holy shit.”

The pleasured groan from farther down the bed had George realizing that he had almost completely forgotten that his gorgeous grid girl was even present. She had her hand still lazily stroking Nico with her wide, amused eyes staring up at the both of them with her bottom lip between her teeth. There was a certain twinkle in her eye that betrayed just how much she was into the unexpected sight before her.

“Don’t let me stop you.” she all but purred, reaching up with her other hand to tug at the waistband of George’s underwear.

He took her prompt without question and lifted his hips to shove his underwear down, leaving him just as bare as Nico, and then her hand went to his hard cock too, having them each in her grasp to pleasure them simultaneously. George shuddered both at her touch and the obvious fire behind Nico’s gaze directed right down to his groin.

Nico let out a playful wolf-whistle, “Impressive, Georgie.”

George could feel the blush trailing down his neck and over his collarbones, flushed from lust and from the unexpected praise and attention from his teammate. He shifted in place and grasped the side of Nico’s neck as he leaned in to start to kiss at his neck with a small whine. George’s legs fell open a little more, hips nudging up against the hand of the beautiful woman who was currently giving him a lazy handjob, all without stopping his ministrations along the column of Nico’s neck.

“That’s more like it.” Nico exhaled, almost a hint of pride in his voice, and he draped an arm around George’s shoulders to keep him close, succumbing to the sensations of the younger man’s lips on his neck. George could feel his eyes on him, how he stared at him as the woman tended to him in generous strokes. When she finally took George’s dick in her mouth, he pulled away from Nico’s neck with a tight gasp.

“Fuck.” George hissed, glancing down at her as she batted her lashes back up at him from between his lazily parted thighs.

He was nearly leaning entirely on Nico at that point, draped naked on the bed with his head resting on his teammate's shoulder, feeling the warmth of his bicep against his shoulder blade. It was as if any care or concern had dissipated in George’s mind—the presence of lust had a way of doing that. Shamelessly horny, he let his body mould with that of the man beside him as he succumbed to the warm, wet confines of the gorgeous woman’s mouth on him. Sure, it wasn’t the most mind-blowing head he had ever received but there was something about that situation as a whole that made George’s nerve endings tingle.

She shared the both of them, going back and forth to tend to each of them one at a time, making sure to keep the other nicely stimulated with her hand when it wasn’t their turn to take up her mouth. The men lounged together in naked bliss as they watched her, and George caught himself often glancing to his right just to stare at Nico just a little more. In the last six years that George had been in Formula 1, never had he experienced teammate bonding quite like this.

George couldn’t help himself as the magnetic pull in his chest urged him closer and he pressed a kiss to the corner of Nico’s mouth. The elder turned his face towards his younger counterpart, smiling that cocky handsome grin of his, before leaning in to meet him halfway for another proper tongue-led kiss. It stirred a feeling of unexplainable desire in George’s stomach, a thirst that felt far more quenchable now than it had in years prior when he had been smothering any fleeting concept of this that might have crossed his mind. Everything—Nico—was once so unattainable. Now, everything felt within his reach.

George’s cheek sizzled where Nico pressed the pad of his thumb, forcing his mouth open a little wider to push in his tongue. Like putty, George melted, parting his lips and accepting the invasion as he raised a hand to grasp the back of Nico’s neck and hold his mouth on his. There was a roughness to the way Nico kissed; like even this was a competition. On the track, George might have been his fiercest competitor, but, here, now, all he could do was fold under Nico’s assertive dominance.

After a moment, when they pulled apart to breathe, there was a string of spit connecting their lips and it broke, dripping down George’s chin. His wide eyes were all over the face of his mentor, trying to gauge his reaction or perhaps receive any hints of guidance as to what to do next. Nico smeared the slick of spit across George’s swollen bottom lip with the pad of his thumb before squeezing the younger man’s chiseled face between thumb and fingers, pinching his cheeks as he admired him.

“You’ve always been such a pretty boy.” Nico all but purred.

George felt his cock twitch in the firm grasp of the woman laying between his legs. Her soft giggle in awareness floated in the air of the bedroom.

And then, much to Nico’s pleasant surprise—and, in all honesty, surprise of George, himself—the younger man was shifting in place in a fit of bravery and then leaning himself over his mentor’s lap. The woman still held her hand around the shaft of Nico’s cock, watching in awe as George tentatively licked up the side of it and then wrapped his spitty lips around the head.

His heart in his throat, George had the sudden realization that he had never sucked a dick before or, rather, gotten anywhere as close to one as he was in that moment. Suddenly he was just there with his lips wrapped stupidly around the head of Nico’s cock and not knowing what the fuck to do next. What had he gotten himself into? He was in far too deep now.

The feeling of Nico’s fingers pushing through the roots of George’s hair had the tension in his body relaxing slightly, melting downwards into the mattress and over Nico’s thigh and, ultimately, causing his mouth to move deeper. With a gentle voice laced in pleasure, words chosen as if he knew just what to say, Nico spoke to him, “That’s it, Georgie. Give it to me how you like to receive it.”

The woman was still nestled between Nico’s thighs, her hand still holding his dick upwards for George’s mouth to sink further down on. With a giddy grin, she encouraged, “That’s so hot.”

George withered, letting out a faint moan with his mouth full of dick. Strangely, it was intensely arousing, as much as he might have hated to admit it. Sure, he liked pleasuring his partners but up until that point, it had only ever been women—never having even thought about how sucking dick could get him just as turned on. But, here he was, mouth fucking salivating, and almost instinctively finding a pace to start to bob his mouth around Nico-freaking-Rosberg’s cock like he couldn’t hold himself back any longer.

Nico still had his hand carding through George’s hair, petting him, applying just a little pressure to the back of his head as if to guide him downwards. George could feel his eyes on him, watching his every ungraceful move, likely seeing how unimpressive he was being, hardly able to take much of him in his mouth at all.

But then, Nico breathed out an almost dreamy, “Fuck, George…that’s a good boy…I know you can go deeper.”

Good boy.

Nico praised him in that same tone he used when they were in training sessions together—so kind and genuine and friendly—something so warm that made George just trust him from their first week of mentorship. That voice that pushed George to challenge himself, to lift more, run faster, push harder…anything to earn more of that professional praise from his mentor. That’s all it was, wasn’t it? Professional?

George’s entire body shuddered at his words and his hand reached over to hold Nico still, taking over from the woman. He tried to push himself deeper, gagging around him wetly as a result. Nico groaned tightly, his hips trying to nudge up into his mouth at the restriction.

“Loosen your throat and relax your jaw,” the beautiful woman instructed George softly, setting her fingers against his jaw to help him, “breathe through your nose…there you go.”

George whimpered and gurgled around Nico’s dick as it took up his mouth. It certainly didn’t feel average anymore with the way his jaw was already starting to cramp up from the unfamiliar motions. After a second, he had to pull back to breathe.

He stared down at the swollen red cock in his hand, glistened in spit and precum, easily slicking up George’s hand as he started to stroke it like he would his own. The pretty sounds that came from Nico’s throat spurred him on to keep that pace going, soft breaths and handsome moans that went right to his dick.

George was very aware of his gorgeous grid girl sharing the moment from beside him, guiding him without judgement. He couldn’t help but be drawn closer to her, too, emotionally and physically, as he leaned in to capture her lips in a searing kiss. She kissed him back without question, hands sliding over his broad bare shoulders as her tongue slipped past the seam of his lips and, at the same time, George kept his hand tending to Nico’s dick in firm strokes.

Almost as if sharing the same mind, she and George ended up moving downwards together and, as he took Nico back in his mouth, she leaned in to drag her tongue over his balls and along the base of his dick. George moved his hand away and, instead, set it over Nico’s abs, feeling the taut muscle there and the steady rhythm of his every jagged breath, giving them room to use nothing but their mouths on the World Champion.

“Jesus Christ,” Nico cursed through his teeth, staring down at his body as the two of them shared the responsibility of sucking him off.

Their tongues clashed as they licked up and down the sides of his cock, taking turns to take him in their mouths for proper suction. George could feel himself getting sloppier as the seconds passed, as if his rising lust was making him impatient for something more. He was always a competitive soul—perhaps it was a requirement to be a Formula 1 driver—and so soon he was wrapping his hand around Nico’s cock and guiding it away from the woman’s mouth just so he could have his turn again, determined to deliver the best results he could.

For a split second, as his throat struggled to accommodate the unfamiliar invasion so much so that his eyes were burning with tears, George swore he might entirely throw up. He tried to relax, easing himself down more with a gentle shake of his head, until, finally, his nose brushed the coarse trimmed hair that lined Nico’s pelvis. Nico tossed his back against the pillows and headboard with a stiff groan, his fingers flexing into George’s brunette waves with a tight tug of pleasure, holding him right down on him for a moment longer, just to feel the way George’s throat constricted around him.

“Fuck—” Nico dragged out the vowel before releasing George’s hair.

George sat back with a heave of air, coughing wetly and dribbling spit down his chin as tears streaked across his flushed cheeks. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, coughing out a raspy, “Blimey—”

The woman beside him smiled sweetly and leaned in to kiss up his neck rewardingly, nipping at his earlobe with a playful coo, “Baby’s first deepthroat.”

The men chuckled lightly at her statement, George’s face a flushed pink and his expression already looking entirely fucked out and not much had even happened just yet. But, before George could even get his wits about him, Nico was shifting on the bed and gently guiding George to take his place. They swapped positions in silent agreement and George flopped backwards on the expensive mattress and down-filled pillows with a panted breath, staring up wide-eyed as Nico took control.

“Think our boy deserves a reward for that.” Nico said, half to the woman with him and half to no one in particular.

“He definitely does.” she agreed with a smile, adjusting herself on the large bed so she was draped out beside George’s lanky body. Her hand immediately took to his chest in playful caresses that rose goosebumps under her touch.

George might have looked at her in that moment in any other instance, but with Nico clearly having a plan in mind, he couldn’t look away from him. Especially not when his teammate was guiding his legs farther apart so he could situated himself between them and lean down to kiss his thighs.

George inhaled tightly, arms draped lazily beside his head with his fingers curling into the pillowcase absentmindedly. He stared down at the way Nico’s soft lips pressed open mouthed kisses up his inner thigh—tender, patient—like he was something more than just that lanky, awkward, big-eyed kid with the shit haircut that Nico took under his wing six years ago. George’s mind swirled through every excuse in the book as to why Nico wouldn’t want him like this and on the contrary, why, it seemed, he so suddenly did.

The beautiful woman shared in the joy of kissing over George’s smooth skin, trailing kisses over his collarbones and shoulder and up the column of his neck. With all this attention, George was squirming. Nico tightened his grip on George’s thighs, holding him still so he could continue the ministrations of his lips without interruption, trailing higher and higher and higher. From the teasing alone, the anticipation, and the unfamiliar scratch of Nico’s stubble against his skin, George felt his cock twitch.

“Want it that bad, hm?” Nico teased lowly, his hot breath falling against the supple skin of George’s inner thighs.

George could only let out a small whine, almost entirely involuntary. His cheeks flushed pink at the sound that came out of him and his fingers clutched the pillowcase on either side of his head, trying to ground himself to keep from embarrassing himself in front of Nico. He had always been so concerned with what Nico thought of him but as he laid there, naked and waiting underneath him, he started to realize that Nico really looked like he wanted to be nowhere else but right there.

With a firm hand, Nico wrapped his fingers around the thick shaft of George’s cock and lifted it up and away from where it had been resting against his pelvis. Even from only that miniscule touch, George’s eyelashes fluttered as the heat of it shot up his spine and he pressed his teeth tightly into his bottom lip. From his throat came a tight, “Mm—”

Nico shined a handsome smile up at him as his hand slowly started to move in testing strokes, gliding along with the foreskin that hugged his cock, pulling downwards to reveal the swollen pink head. George’s breath caught in his throat and his eyebrows raised almost clean off his head, staring down wide-eyed at the very real visual of his own damn teammate touching him so sensually.

From beside him, George was aware of the girl beside him as she kissed his neck and her slim fingers rubbed over his nipples, grounding him in the familiarity of female companionship in this sea of uncharted territory. He felt like he was tingling all over from the way she played with his sensitive nipples to the lazy strokes of Nico’s ridiculously soft hand on his dick, his body thrumming with need and pleasure.

When Nico finally lowered his head down and dragged his flat tongue up the underside of his cock, George’s head fell dully against the pillow with a silent gape to the ceiling. And then, when Nico wrapped his lips around him entirely, George’s eyes quite literally rolled, head arching back a little more with his fingers tightening around the fabric of the pillow case.

The faint rumble of George’s chest could be felt under the woman’s lips as she kissed across his pecs and she smiled against his flushed skin, her voice as soft as velvet, “Does that feel good?”

George swallowed thickly as he heaved his head up from the pillow to look down at Nico between his legs, his expression settled in a permanent state of pleasured surprise as he watched his teammate set a gentle pace around his cock. When Nico raised his eyes upwards, meeting George’s gaze with those sea-blue eyes he had grown all too familiar with over the years, George withered. With a breathy whine, he answered the woman, “Ye-ah-”

The slight suction of Nico’s mouth had George’s response breaking in the middle into a gasp. His toes curled. It definitely wasn’t George’s first blowjob—not by a longshot, really—but something about watching Nico be the one to go down on him like that (with impressive skill, might he add) after so long of smothering any and all potential to the back of his mind had George really feeling like this was the best thing ever.

The woman’s tongue lapped at George’s nipples while her fingers toyed with them in precise rubs. All the points of stimulation on his body were ablaze and George felt drunk and he hadn't even finished the one cocktail Nico had made him earlier.

Once he settled into the feeling of Nico sucking him off, George rested his head back on the pillow with pleasured pants of breath and he slid a hand up the gorgeous woman’s spine and then guided her mouth to his by the back of her neck. They kissed sloppily and he fed her his sweet moans by the grace of his tongue, fisting the roots of her hair at the nape of her neck as if he needed something to hold onto.

With one particularly delicious suction from the mouth on his cock, George flew a hand down to grab a fistful of the blonde hair nestled between his quivering thighs. Nico groaned around his dick at the faint pull of his hair as if in surprise but he didn’t let up, keeping his hand moving in those idyllic twisting strokes while his mouth followed the rhythm, making sure to hollow his cheeks every time he pulled upwards.

George had to pull away from her mouth to heave in some air into his lungs, his breaths falling ragged as he felt the familiar coil of pleasure tightening in the pit of his stomach. Her forehead rested against his temple as her fingers played with his sensitive nipples, her voice angelic as she whispered filthy words to him to egg him on while Nico worked his magic.

“You like watching the World Champion sucking your cock?” she whispered against the shell of his ear, sending shivers down his spine, “Making you such a pretty mess, hm? You’d let him do anything to you, wouldn’t you?”

George couldn’t help the ever so discreet nod in silent response. His cheeks burned crimson at the realization of what he had just admitted. She smiled, half proud and half sly, but didn’t draw attention to it.

With one hand lazily resting between her shoulder blades and his other burrowed in Nico’s hair, George was sandwiched between the two most gorgeous people he had ever seen, he was sure. The lewd wet sound of Nico’s mouth gagging around him had George’s eyes struggling to stay open, his expression nothing short of erotic as he watched his newly World Champion mentor taking his whole fucking dick down his throat like it was his day job. George swore stars were spotting his vision.

He could feel his orgasm approaching, rising and rising to that precipice. He tightened his fingers in Nico’s hair, desperate to keep him going, so badly wanting to come in the warm, wet confines of his perfect fucking mouth—

And then, all at once, Nico pulled away and George was left with that rapidly fading feeling and a heaviness of disappointment.

“Nico,” George huffed, his voice thick and whiny in frustration, dragging out his name just a little longer than normal.

“Come on, we’re just getting started.” Nico replied playfully, politely wiping his mouth with the side of his forefinger and thumb as he sat back on his haunches, “Don’t want to come before you get to really enjoy yourself, do you?”

Although George partially wanted to protest, he knew he was right. He kept his mouth shut.

Nico cocked his head at the woman still curled up at George’s side, “C’mere, baby, your turn now.”

George watched as she untangled herself from under his arm and shifted to where she was directed, draping herself out on the spacious king size bed. Watching her move like that, flushed with arousal and donning only her skimpy panties, George couldn’t help but be drawn after her, following her into a new position and helping himself between her legs. She giggled sweetly up at him as he linked his fingers in the sides of her underwear and started to pull them down her legs and he couldn’t help but smile right back.

This was the gorgeous young woman he had been silently eyeing all season, desperately trying not to let the sight of her holding his name at the front of his car distract him from his race preparations. Now—although faster than he had anticipated—he had her in bed and he wasn’t about to let any opportunity pass him by. That was not what that night was about, after all.

George could feel how achingly hard he was, throbbing between his legs, made only worse by the generous attention from Nico moments earlier, but he stayed focused on his task at hand. With the woman’s panties dropped to the floor, George gently pushed her thighs apart and leaned down to kiss the inside of her knee. He tried to take his time but who could blame him for ending up almost rushing to trail kisses down her inner thigh. It was as if he could smell her, the natural pheromones luring him closer to her cunt until his nose was brushing against her clit and his tongue dropped out for a taste.

The sweet sound that slipped from her lips made him shiver and his arms went around her thighs to hold her on his mouth as he tongued lazily at her cunt. George had always been perfectly happy giving just as much as he enjoyed receiving and, in that moment, it was shown as clear as day across his face as his eyes fluttered shut with a pleased moan.

“Fuck—” she gasped to the ceiling, her fingers threading through his tousled hair in a snug grip.

She tasted as good as he had imagined on those lonely nights in hotel rooms and as his tongue worked her greedily, he couldn’t help but grind against the mattress with a muffled groan. Her hips pushed up against his mouth for more and he dragged his tongue up to her clit to kiss and lick and suck on it just to earn the prideful sight of her back arching off the bed with a mewl of pleasure.

The noise of foil tearing had George momentarily pulling away from her pussy, his lips and chin shimmering from how wet she was, and he glanced over curiously to where Nico was pulling out a condom from its wrapper. Nico shuffled closer to the pair of them and, much to George’s surprise, gave him a small spank to get him to move out of the way.

She must have seen George’s displeased expression at being interrupted because then the woman was offering him a curl of her finger and a sweet, “Come up here.”

He shifted out from between her legs to let Nico take his spot and he moved up her body, following her guidance to straddle her head. George’s teeth sunk into his bottom lip at the positioning but there was a twinkle in her eye that gave away her own sureness while her warm hands slid up his tone thighs and then wrapped around his throbbing cock.

She started stroking him in both hands, staring at his dick angled right towards her face as she spoke casually, “You’re really good at eating pussy, you know that?”

George chuckled modestly, “You think so?”

“Mm, mhm.” she nodded in passive agreement before guiding his dick in her mouth.

George withered and tilted his head back as he pushed a hand through his hair to get it out of his face before he was looking back down at her and the way her lips were wrapped so perfectly around the girth of his cock. His lips pulled into a tight line behind a stiff groan and his hips pushed a little towards her face to sink deeper into her mouth.

“Ready?” Nico’s voice came from farther down the bed.

“Mhm.” she answered around George’s dick.

When George glanced over his shoulder to watch, he noted the way she spread her legs wider and bent them back to encourage Nico closer. He had put on the condom by then, one hand grounding himself with a gentle hold on one of her ankles while his other slid the protected head of his cock between her slick folds. There was some strange heart stirring in George’s chest at the sight of Nico slowly pressing into her, the combination of their initial sighs and gasps at the sensation. He wasn’t sure if it was lust or jealousy…maybe an evil combination of the two. In the back of his mind, he wasn’t sure which individual he was jealous of in that moment.

He looked back down to the woman splayed out across the bed, taking in her furrowed expression of pleasure behind his dick in her mouth. Her sucking was languid now with her focus divided between him and the fact that she was now getting fucked. George nudged his hips forward again to encourage her silently, thrusting into her mouth just enough to earn a slutty whine from her.

“Shit,” Nico groaned from behind him, more to himself than anyone, and yet the tight hints of ecstasy in his voice sent a shiver down George’s spine, “that’s so fuckin’ good…”

She moaned around George’s dick, her hands grabbing at his thighs as they framed her head as her mouth tended to him sloppily. He tried to focus on her with one hand on his waist as he lazily trusted her mouth, shuddering at the feeling of the ridges on the roof of her mouth against the sensitive head of his cock and the way she moaned and whined around him. But, despite it all, George kept catching himself glancing over his shoulder to where Nico was.

The faint creak of the bed beneath Nico’s every firm thrust from behind him had George’s mind wandering to thoughts he had always been so good at repressing. He couldn’t stop staring at him, almost getting a kink in his neck with how much he was trying to contort himself.

Only seconds later, the tap on his thigh had George looking back down to the woman beneath him and she ordered with a gentle, “Turn around.”

George didn’t question it before he moved off of her and turned around to face Nico instead and she guided his leg back over her face to take his dick back in her mouth. George flinched at the sensation, settling into his place there as he appreciated his new view of Nico grasping onto her thighs and fucking her strongly. Nico sent him a sly smirk and perhaps there was a hint of a wink there too.

Not wanting to crush the poor woman entirely, George adjusted himself on top of her and settled forward onto his forearms on either side of her body, allowing her to keep his cock in her mouth as she pleased and earned him a front row view to the man of the year being balls deep inside her. George’s fingers grasped onto the duvet beneath them as his eyes trained in on the steady thrusts of Nico fucking into her sopping cunt and pulling back out in rapid succession. The lewd sound had his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, insides burning at the rhythmic pants of his teammate that were now more than just from a good workout.

Nico carded his fingers through George’s hair with a warm, tight chuckle, “You like watching, don’t ya, Georgie?”

The slight condescending tone in his voice had George’s stomach churning with lust and his eyes flitted up to Nico’s face who was already staring down at him intently. There was a slight darkness to his eyes that came with the onset of lust and it was an expression that George had to look away from due to the intensity behind it.

In silent reply—and, also, wanting to participate—George lifted a hand up to glide his fingers through the coarse trimmed hair along the gorgeous woman’s pelvis and let his fingertips graze her swollen clit. She gasped around his dick and George took that as incentive to start to rub at it properly, finding a pace of firm, tight circles that had her hands tightening on his thighs on either side of her head.

“Yeah…good boy,” Nico purred breathily, fingers still tightly wound in George’s hair.

“Christ,” George groaned through a lick of his lips, watching him fuck her so deliciously behind his fingers working sloppily on her clit.

“Hear how wet she is?” Nico asked.

It was easy to, really. George had been in a haze at the rhythmic sound of her sopping cunt taking his every thrust greedily, filling the bedroom with it. George slid his fingers lower to spread her lips apart to watch every inch of Nico’s dick filling her up snugly before pulling out only halfway and plenty smeared in her arousal. She made the prettiest sounds too and George at least had the privilege to feel the vibration of each around his dick in her mouth, but, selfishly, he just wanted more. He wanted a turn…with either of them, honestly.

Just then, almost like he could read George’s mind, Nico pulled out of her. He was so hard that when he did, his cock bobbed lazily in the air for a moment, right in George’s face, the condom glistening in the bedroom light. Always such a good teammate, George knew what he wanted without needing to be asked and he leaned right in and wrapped his mouth around it. Nico’s hand tightened in his hair and he let out a rumbling groan as George sucked him clean, seemingly unbothered by the taste of latex that lingered under the sweet taste of her creamy wetness.

“Who knew you were such a slut, George.” Nico chuckled, low and rumbling in his chest, eyes watching him suck him clean, “I mean, fuck, I knew you were a bit of a flirt but, mmph—”

George didn’t speak to how his teammate’s words sent fire through his veins. Instead, he let him pull his mouth off with his fist in his hair and Nico then slapped the head of his cock against George’s lips and tongue. George tried not to writhe behind the lewd action, still aware of the girl he was on top of who was swallowing down his dick eagerly.

He choked out a messy groan, eyelashes fluttering as he glanced up at Nico kneeling before him.

“Wish I knew you were into this sooner,” Nico purred as he smeared the protected head of his dick across George’s swollen bottom lip, “we coulda had a lot more fun as teammates.”

George didn’t have a moment to properly linger and process on what the fuck he meant by that before they were, yet again, switching positions. He somehow ended up with a box of condoms in his hand, having taken Nico’s place between the woman’s spread thighs. She was touching herself lazily, modestly manicured fingers swirling over her clit and messy pussy, batting her lashes up at him with that sweet smile he had grown so fond of over the season.

Nico was behind him, watching like a true and honest mentor, his hands resting on George’s waist and his lips trailing lazy kisses up the side of his neck. It made it extremely hard to focus on rolling the condom on, George discovered, but soon the wrapper was discarded to the side and he was shuffling closer to his beautiful grid girl.

He leaned down over top of her, sinking onto his forearms on either side of her head with her legs hooked around his thighs. They shared whispered giggling ‘hi’s in their newfound intimate proximity just before their lips met in a slow, sensual kiss. George ground against her a little, letting the length of his erection glide between her slick lips a few times, the both of them sharing soft pleasure breaths of anticipation.

And then he was sinking inside her entirely, slowly, patiently, making sure to draw the moment on so they could both feel every inch stretching her out. Her hands grasped onto his shoulder blades with a tight gasp into his mouth, skin slick and flush with sheens of rising sweat. George blinked a few times languidly to catch his bearings as he sheathed entirely inside her snug body.

Suddenly he couldn’t recall the last time he had a proper lay; the last time he had time or energy to properly take some girl back to his hotel room and fuck her emotionlessly into the sheets between the hazy lines of NDAs. Maybe it had been a while…maybe his mind had been too preoccupied.

Preoccupied with the woman now beneath him, staring up at him with the sweetest pleasure across her face, and preoccupied with the man situated behind him with his firm hands groping his ass. Nico gave him a spank. George hissed at the sting.

“C’mon, Georgie,” Nico taunted, “Fuck her good now.”

George slowly started to move, easing out of her about halfway before sinking back in entirely. The soft, pleasant hum she let out went right down his spine.

“Christ…” George muttered under his breath, words wavering with the overwhelming sensation of her pussy squeezing around him in all the right ways. His nose brushed against hers as their breaths fell in sync and she turned her face to his to capture his lips with hers in a sloppy kiss. He groaned into her mouth as he set a gentle pace, grinding deeply into her in curling thrusts that had her toes curling.

“That’s it…” Nico praised lowly from behind him. He followed George’s movements by a hand on his ass as if guiding him, feeling every tension and release of his muscles as he thrusted into the beautiful woman beneath him.

George shivered at the feeling of Nico’s lips on his spine but he didn’t let up, keeping himself busy with the woman he was fucking so deliciously. Nico kissed along the dimples in his lower back and his strong hands kneaded the flesh of his ass at the same time. When his lips pulled away, he gave his bum a sharp spank.

“Mmph—” George muffled in surprise at the sting, right into her mouth.

The woman giggled sweetly and ghosted her fingernails up and down his sides, touching him all over, adding to the sensations of the situation. Nico leaned down farther, his plush lips kissing the base of George’s spine and, finally, over the flesh of his ass. With a gentle, testing bite, Nico chuckled lowly at the way George flinched.

Nico pulled back again and went back to the massage of his hands over his glutes, squeezing and rubbing as George kept lazily rocking into the woman beneath him. With a hum of approval, Nico spoke, “Those gym sessions really pay off for you, George. I mean, fuck.”

“Mm, just wanna impress you,” George rambled without thinking of the implications of what he was saying. He meant it as in Nico was his professional mentor, okay? Seriously, he did.

Nico chuckled, “Well, consider me greatly impressed.”

The woman’s hands slid up the side of George’s neck as they gazed into each other’s eyes, pupils dilated with lust with every lazy stroke he gave her. She pulled her legs back a little more to allow him closer, making sure he was giving her every last inch in beautiful precise thrusts that had her mouth falling open in a silent gasp. God, she looked just as beautiful getting fucked as he had always imagined. He couldn’t stop staring at her.

He couldn’t stop staring at her even as Nico kept groping the flesh of his ass and kissing and biting over his hips and glutes. With one hand, Nico reached between George’s legs and gently squeezed his balls, urging a low groan of pleasant surprise out of the younger man whose hips jumped a little into their next stroke. George faltered a moment, unfamiliar with the situation, but Nico just encouraged him on with an angelic praise.

“Keep going, baby.”

George’s insides churned at the pet name, succumbing to its order without thought, and he went back to those slow but sure thrusts into the beautiful woman’s pliant body.

Nico spoke from behind him like he was the angel or devil on his shoulder with one hand gently fondling his balls, “Good boy. That’s it.”

George leaned down again to steal more kisses from the woman beneath him, letting his tongue explore her mouth with filthy bliss as they shared pleasured breaths. He was all too aware of Nico behind him, left in the darkness of his peripheral vision to really see what he was plotting. It didn’t take him long to figure it out, however, because not long after Nico removed his hand, he was, instead, spreading George’s cheeks and leaning down to kiss wetly right over his perineum.

The little breathy whimper that slipped from George’s mouth was almost entirely involuntary, breaking away from the woman’s kiss with a flutter of his lashes at the surprise of the sensation.

Staring up at his expression, she smiled, “Oh wow, yeah, you like that, don’t you, baby?”

Nico chuckled lowly from behind him as George entirely stilled, all of his senses turning towards him, waiting for more. He complied, leaning down again to, now, drag his tongue right up between his cheeks, once, twice, and then left a wet kiss right over his asshole.

George kept the unwavering eye contact of the woman beneath him, his expression frozen in surprise but not distaste either as if he were silently gauging how he felt about the situation at hand. He could feel the faint stubble of Nico’s trimmed facial hair against the supple skin of his ass, nestled between his cheeks that were spread by his teammate’s firm hands. George squirmed a little and, shamelessly, found himself pushing back on his mouth.

“Mhm,” Nico mumbled against him in a muted praise, tongue lapping at him purposefully.

His warm breath fell in soft pants against George’s skin, the younger man so attuned to every sensation that even the slightest touch had him shuddering. The woman beneath him dragged her fingertips up his biceps and back down as his arms framed her head, her siren-eyes staring up at him and every flutter of expression that grazed his face.

“Yeah, does that feel good?” she taunted sweetly, her manicured fingernails rising goosebumps over his arms, “Never had someone eat you out before, have you?”

“Jesus—” George choked out. That was answer enough.

His mouth fell slack as Nico pressed the tip of his tongue firmly against the puckered muscle and teased him with precise swirls. A small gasp slipped from George’s throat and he caught himself pushing back a little more. Nico moaned against him at his eagerness, the vibration making George whither.

“You’re so lucky,” the woman purred up to George, her well-crafted words spurring him on, “getting rimmed while being nestled in a warm, tight pussy. Best of both worlds, isn’t it, love?”

George groaned in response, as if his mind was so overwhelmed that all words just left his brain entirely, and the reminder of his current positioning had his hips nudging forwards into her some more. She let out a tiny moan in surprise, fingers curling around his biceps as he ground into her, finding a shallow pace that allowed him to keep grinding into her while also grinding back on Nico’s mouth. He felt like he was dreaming.

From behind him, Nico shook his head just a little to really nestle himself between George’s cheeks while his tongue and lips moving in a lewd sloppy dance. He was taking his time with it, working him into it, taking breaks from tonguing at his asshole to kiss and tease his cheeks and his perineum and even down to his balls. It wasn’t long before George’s body was relaxing under his touch and he could see him starting to open up just a little.

“Look at you, pretty boy,” Nico commended, pausing just long enough to spit right onto the tight rim of muscle and let his middle finger smear it in, “so ready and wanting.”

George panted out a, “Please.”

“Yeah?” Nico taunted, gently prodding at his asshole with the tip of his middle finger and letting it slip inside just to the first knuckle. His voice was honey sweet and laced with a hint of deriding that, on the receiving end, made rouge blossom across George’s cheeks, “Yeah, you want more, baby?”

George almost didn’t recognize his voice at how whiny and pathetic he sounded when he repeated his stupid little, “Please.”

“Such good manners.” the woman beneath him tutted.

She was so patient, George thought for a moment as he stared down at her and was lost in the comfort of her gaze. So patient to lay there, filled with him, while he was simply unmoving. Not even looking bored by it, she genuinely looked as though she were enjoying herself. In the intensity of the moment, George made a mental note to put a fucking ring on her finger.

Perhaps in his momentary distraction with the gorgeous woman staring up at him and his chaotic thoughts clouding his mind, he hadn’t noticed when Nico had retrieved a bottle of lube. The sudden pop of the lid tore him back to reality. He tried to look over his shoulder.

“This okay?” Nico asked, the lust in his voice momentarily replaced with that same serious and concerned tone he used when he was first leading George through a few beginner training sessions in that first year. Nothing like this.

“Yeah,” George replied in a breath, “I want it.”

The sudden drip of ice cold lube between his ass cheeks had George gasping tightly. Nico hushed him sweetly and his warm fingers followed, rubbing it in generously over his tight rim of muscle before prodding at it again. His middle finger found its way back inside him, easing down to the second knuckle before slipping back out a little.

Nico took his time, easing him open one finger at a time, relaxing him with kisses over the base of his spine and his hips and his thighs. George felt nearly boneless, and he was sure if he were in a cartoon, little birds and stars would be floating around his head. He slumped down onto his forearms on either side of the beautiful woman’s head and they both leaned in for a sloppy kiss at the same time.

Almost subconsciously, George started to grind his hips into her and, equally, back on Nico’s hand. Always having been a giver, he was finding his rhythm in what it entailed to be a receiver at the same time. And, God, had he not anticipated how good it would feel to have someone’s fingers up his ass; to have Nico’s fingers up his ass.

George moaned into her mouth, his fingers tangling in the messy locks of her hair that was draped out around her head as he had her pinned to the bed. Her dainty hands reached down to grab two snug fistfulls of his ass, keeping him spread for Nico’s fingers and to, also, guide his grinds into her as he pushed his cock deeper. His spread knees kept her legs splayed open on either side of his body, helping to keep him in perfect position with his hips up to welcome Nico’s fingers while his lips and tongue stayed tangled with hers.

From behind him, Nico was three fingers deep in George’s ass, slicked up heartily in lube until it was nearly dripping down his hand as he set a steady rhythm. The wet squelch of his fingers thrusting gently inside him filled the bedroom behind the trio’s panted breaths and soft moans and, with an attentive eye, Nico was laser focused on the way George was squeezing around his fingers. He was so easy to stretch open, so relaxed and trusting, falling so effortlessly into submission for someone who had no experience.

Nico leaned down and let his tongue join his fingers, just to give him a little treat of added stimulation, and his free hand rested overtop of the woman’s on George’s cheek in an absentminded action. George pushed back on Nico’s mouth more insistently, gasping and groaning into his kiss as his body ached for more. Between the touch of his teammate and the tight squeeze of that perfect pussy around his dick, he was nearly going insane.

As if reading his mind, Nico adjusted his position behind him, rising up properly on his knees between George’s legs, and he pulled his fingers out of him slowly. George whined at the sudden emptiness, breaking his kiss to try to look back at him over his shoulder with a kiss-swollen pout.

“Hang on, Georgie,” Nico all but purred, popping the cap on the bottle of lube again, with a tension in his voice as if he, too, were being held back.

The woman beneath him gave George’s ass a smack and he turned his face back towards her with a surprised gasp. Her feet were linked over his thighs and she pushed her hips up to meet his, trying to get him to go back to fucking her while Nico got himself ready. George dipped down to lick his way into her mouth again and complied, giving her a few hard shoves that had her jaw falling slack despite the pleasured expression on her face.

Nico spanked him weakly to get him to stop a few seconds later and, obediently, George pushed his ass back towards him as if presenting himself. Honestly, he wasn’t sure where half of these moves came from or where he learned them; it was as if his body and mind were working on some subconscious, instinctual level. It was fine, he was too horny to be embarrassed.

“Such a good boy,” Nico breathed, situating himself right up behind him and he dragged the protected head of his cock between George’s cheeks, “You still want this?”

“Yeah…” George exhaled, feeling like he had tv static in his brain, he was chalked so full of anticipation, “Just go slow.”

“Of course,” Nico rested his left hand on the small of his back while his other angled himself to press against his hole, “you know I’d never do anything to intentionally hurt you, Georgie.”

“Mm…” George bit his bottom lip.

The woman beneath him still held two hands on his ass to keep him open, staring up at him with comfort in her gaze. She spoke to him in a smiling whisper, “Deep breaths…just relax…it’s gonna feel so fucking good.”

“Mhm,” Nico agreed as he slowly started to press himself into him, “you’re nice and prepped too…all lubed up and everything…”

George’s fingers tightened around the bedsheets and at first he swore he was about to claw up the bed at the pressure that filled him, inch by steady inch. It was the strangest sensation he could ever attempt at describing. It wasn’t necessarily painful but it sure was unlike anything else he could ever think of comparing it to. His eyelids fluttered and he let out a short, shaky breath.

“There you go…” his sweet grid girl praised under her breath, “Nice and easy…”

Nico’s hands gripped his hips in a firm grasp as he bottomed out and he groaned out the most erotic sounding, “Fuck, George—”

George could have come right then and there, hearing him like that—hearing him moan his name like that. And once he slowly started to move, rocking into him in short, cautious thrusts, George’s eyes nearly rolled.

“Jesus Christ—” George choked out, hanging his head, almost forehead to forehead with the woman beneath him, “Feels so big…”

She ran her hands up and down his back, holding onto him warmly, asking with a smiling, “How’s that?”

“So..fucking good,” George mumbled as if he were drunk, his words a little slurred.

“Yeah, you like that?” Nico purred, voice thick with lust, his fingers kneading into the flesh of George’s hips with his pelvis pressed against his ass, “You like being filled?”

“Uh huh,” George stumbled out.

His eyes were struggling to stay open with the overwhelm of it all; being buried inside a beautiful woman and having an equally as beautiful man inside him at the same time. It was unreal. He had always thought taking anal would be incredibly uncomfortable and painful but, to his pleasant surprise, he truly never knew it would ever feel this good.

From behind him, Nico slowly started to ease out, only about halfway, before sinking into him again in a gentle, slow, testing push. George’s teeth sunk into his bottom lip through a muted groan at the slick friction, subconsciously pushing back into him at the same time.

“Shit,” Nico moaned handsomely, starting to thrust into him a little more consistently, a little faster.

George gasped tightly, his slender fingers curling into the sheets on either side of the woman’s head, still trapped on top of her (and inside her). His eyebrows were furrowed as if in concentration, focusing on every ounce of sensation that this night was offering, feeling every inch of his teammate’s cock stretching him out. George withered, his scrunched expression melting into pure, erotic pleasure as the seconds passed and, soon, his expression was straight out of a cheesy pornography magazine.

George’s eyes were closed so peacefully, long lashes resting against flushed cheeks, a low, warm moan falling from his chest as the slick sound of bodies filled the room. Nico was setting a good pace, fucking into him enough to have the steady clap of skin joining in the lewd harmony with the squelch of lube, and George swore he was in fucking heaven.

With a needy whine, George pushed back on him again, meeting his strokes with a quivering, “Ooh, fuck yeah.”

“That’s it,” Nico exhaled thickly, pulling a hand back to slap down crisply against George’s ass without stalling his movements, “good boy.”

The woman beneath him let out a little moan of her own as his shifting had his cock starting to thrust into her in messy, shallow motions, finally giving her some friction that she had been deprived of while patiently waiting for him to get comfortable. Her fingers grasped George’s back and her trimmed nails dug into his muscle, staring up at him with nothing but lust in her eyes and across her expression. With the way he moved, she was burning for more and he could feel it in the way her hands were pawing at his back, almost like she didn’t want to appear too needy but couldn’t hold it back anymore.

When he fluttered his eyes open again to meet her gaze, she barely had to say a word before he was leaning down and taking her lips with his in a filthy kiss. It was made messy by his ungraceful movements on top of her, torn between wanting to focus on fucking himself back on Nico or fucking himself forward into her. George moaned into her mouth between sloppy kisses and the fingers of one of his hands tangled into the roots of her hair in a snug grip.

A few seconds later, George broke away from her lips as Nico slowed his thrusts to a stop. Desperate to keep feeling that intense pleasure, George pushed himself back on him a little harder, a little faster, ultimately causing himself to fuck into the beautiful woman beneath him at the same time. Nico shuffled closer so George didn’t have to move too much, allowing him to be buried nice and deep inside his grid girl while still properly taking his teammate’s dick, letting him set his own pace and, ultimately, do all the work.

George choked over a needy groan, not caring how pathetic he must have sounded as his hands pressed hard into the mattress and he let his instinctual desire take over, shoving hard into the woman beneath him and letting himself recoil back against Nico’s cock. The three of them were a mess of panted breaths and pleasured sounds; the luxurious Monte Carlo bedroom rising in heat and housing the lewd harmonies.

“Fuck!” the woman gasped from the bottom of the trio, her legs tucked around George’s thighs, “You’re so fucking deep, holy shit—”

George’s jaw clenched for a moment, trying to hold himself back through the way she squeezed around him and how her nails dragged across his back. She truly sounded like he was fucking every sound from her chest, matching the pace of his sloppy thrusts even with his limited range of motion with Nico still so close behind him. The woman reached a hand down to rub at her clit, arching against the bed with a cry to the ceiling.

The feeling of Nico’s hand on his shoulder startled George out of his reverie for a moment but he didn’t falter for long, far too drunk on the euphoria to stop. Nico spanked him again with his other hand, still knelt motionless to let George do all the work. A true mentor; making sure his mentee knew the ropes.

“Look at you, Georgie,” Nico praised warmly, spanking him again, “such a little slut, aren’t you?”

George let out some sound that sounded equally like a moan and a whimper and something like choking on air. How was this real life? He felt like this was some out of body experience or some really fucked up wet dream and any second now he would wake up in his driver’s room with sticky shorts and a nagging dread that Nico heard him moaning in his sleep through the thin walls of the motorhome.

That definitely hadn’t happened before…

But here, now, that dreamy fantasy that George had once tried so hard to suppress was all too real and feeling all too good.

“Always such a good boy,” Nico praised on, his hand firmly gripping George’s shoulder and undoubtedly watching the way his ass jiggled with every collision of their slick bodies, “what would you twenty-year-old self think if he saw you now? Little Williams Racing protégé…never properly thanked me for giving you my seat.”

He was only teasing and George knew that—he knew Nico well enough by that point—but the words still stirred a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was almost as if Nico knew that his younger self idolized him to the point of guilt-ridden infatuation. Truly, honestly, what would younger George think if he saw what was happening now?

It was hard to think about with the state of putty his brain was in; molten from the pleasure and exertion of the moment. George was still going at it like it was a race of his own, feeling that all too familiar hunger for a win. He wanted to fucking come so bad.

It certainly didn’t help that the woman beneath him—who he had been fantasizing about since the first race of the damn calendar that year—was all but crying on his cock, writhing and moaning and gasping and doing everything he elaborately imagined. Why was this night suddenly his subconscious come to life?! Not that he was complaining by any means but he was certainly going to need a good few days to process this.

“Don’t stop! Fuck, I’m gonna come!” his beautiful grid girl cried out, eyes screwed shut and head tossed back, her hair splayed out across the wrinkled bed sheets, “Yes, yes, yes, yes!”

“That’s it, keep going,” Nico encouraged him with another swat of his ass, “Make her come. Make her come all over your cock.”

“Fucking…Christ…” George groaned through his teeth, desperately holding himself back as her pussy squeezed tightly around him with her impending orgasm.

She looked a vision when she came, falling perfectly silent as she gaped to the ceiling and her body shuddered and tremoured beneath him. George desperately tried to keep going, grinding insistently into her to work her through it. And then, her hands flew up to grab his waist as she gasped out of it, a dreamy smile coming to her face with a gasping, “Oh, fuck.”

George dipped right down to swallow up her lips in a kiss, sharing hungry breathless kisses as she slung her arms around his shoulders. Nico’s hands rubbed down his back and, with his younger teammate momentarily distracted, slowly pulled out of him. George broke away from the woman’s wet kiss to glance over his shoulder at him in protest.

He didn’t need to say a word before Nico was explaining coolly, “I want to look at your face when I make you come.”

George barely had a second to process those words before the woman beneath him was wriggling out from under him. The bed squeaked faintly with the ungraceful scramble of three to switch positions until George had taken her place in the centre of the bed on his back and she was situating herself beside him. His cock was still so hard that it was angled right up against his pelvis, swollen red and leaking all over the thin line of downy hair that stretched up to his navel. Nico, still, was kneeling between George’s legs and he grabbed the backs of his knees to push his legs up towards his chest.

George groaned tightly at the unexpected stretch with his body nearly folded in half. Nico soothed him with an easy and reassuring, “I know how much you can bend. I see you stretching in the gym.”

The awareness that Nico had seen him in the gym had George’s teeth sinking into his bottom lip. No, he hadn’t just seen him and been present and helped him out, he had taken notice. George couldn’t help but wrap his hands around the backs of his thighs to pull his legs farther back.

“Oh my God, someone’s eager,” Nico chuckled almost darkly at his obvious eagerness.

Normally, George might have offered some cheeky rebuttal, leaning into that comfortable banter between him and his teammate. But, instead, he had a very firm one track mind. With a bat of his lashes and a pathetic pout, George could only spill out a, “Please. Please put it back in.”

He might have been drunk on pure, raw need, but he still noticed the way Nico’s expression flickered with a sense of carnal lust at that simple beg. Then, the older man shuffled closer on his knees to position himself right between George’s legs, angling the protected head of his cock against his gaping hole.

“Yeah, please, Nico, please…” George rambled wetly, fingers tightening their grip on the back of his own legs as he watched intently.

From beside them, the well fucked woman reached out with the bottle of lube in hand and dribbled more onto the head of Nico’s cock and right over George’s perineum, watching it drip downwards. Nico smeared it in with his dick and then slowly pressed back inside him.

George’s eyelashes fluttered as he stared up at him, his breath coming out in a wavering, “Oh fuck.”

“Mm, that’s it,” Nico groaned lowly, sinking into him all the way until his balls were pressed against the curve of George’s ass.

“Mhm,” George bit his lip harder at the realization of just how close they were, buzzing through every nerve ending in every spot where his skin touched Nico’s. It was red hot. And now, being laid out on his back, George had a front row view to watch what Nico looked like when he fucked him.

Almost right away, Nico was finding his pace again with his hands pressed firmly on the backs of George’s thighs to keep him bent in half. With his breath halting in his throat for a moment, all George could hear was the sloppy squelch of the lube with every firm thrust from his teammate, creating a dizzying rhythm. His aching cock bounced against his pelvis, still wrapped in the condom that was smeared in creamy streaks from the beautiful woman he had just made come moments earlier.

George inhaled sharply, and without thinking, he reached out and set his hands on Nico’s chest as if to ground himself.

“Yeah, good boy,” Nico praised breathily as he kept thrusting into him, “taking every inch of me.”

George slid his hands down his chest, shamelessly touching him in all the ways he had pretended he didn’t want to right down to his waist where he pressed his fingers into his pale flesh as if to help tug him into his every movement. It was wholly erotic and George could feel his toes curling as his head arched back against the pillows.

“Sh-Shit, Nico—” George let his name slip from his lips in a whimper of pleasure. He let go of his teammate’s body to, instead, grab the back of his own knees to hold himself spread.

“There you go, Georgie,” Nico purred, wrapping his hands firmly around George’s ankles, “Take it.”

From beside them, the woman had been watching intently, not wanting to interrupt. Now that they had found their pace, she moved in. Her hand took George’s place on Nico’s chest, feeling the heat of his skin and the slight sheen of sweat under palm, and she leaned in to kiss his jaw. Without faltering, Nico turned his head to accept her lips on his, kissing her lewdly while still fucking into George.

“F-Fuck,” George stumbled out, watching the two most gorgeous people he knew make out right in front of him.

He felt like he couldn’t get enough. Of anything and everything. The only word his brain could think of was ‘more, more, more’. And, since he was so well past the point of no return on his shame or dignity, he let himself say it outwardly.

“More,” it came out like a raspy croak, breaking in his throat like he was barely pubescent, “Please, more.”

Nico and his beautiful grid girl broke apart and, in the light of the bedroom, George could see the hairline string of spit breaking between their lips as they pulled away. He stared up at his teammate as if he wasn’t sure if he had even said those words out loud.

“Needy fucking boy, aren’t you?” Nico chastised lightly, proving that he had, and then fucked into him a little harder until the clap of their skin got louder, “Always wanting all the attention.”

“Ohfuckyeahplease,” George heaved at the change in intensity, staring up into Nico’s handsome face with a blue-eyed stare that could melt ice. His eyebrows were peaked in just the right place to make him look as if he were in a state of awe, his lips pouted with a blubbering, “Please, please…just like that.”

“Such good manners,” the woman cooed as she rolled the used condom off his dick. He wasn’t even sure where she put it before she was leaning down and lifting his cock up from his abs and wrapping her swollen lips around him.

George, incredibly sensitive, had his eyes fucking rolling at that added sensation, one hand flying to the back of her neck and his other splaying across the sheets for something to hold onto. She sucked on his cock at the same pace as Nico fucked him, sending George’s head spinning.

“Ho-ly shit,” George withered. His head arched back against the bed with a choked gasp, “Holy ffffuck—”

Nico’s grip on his ankles tightened, his firm gaze sweeping between watching himself fuck into his younger teammate and staring at the expressions that painted George’s face. Flushed and horny, George was in a complete daze and barely unable to keep his eyes open although he tried.

The bed creaked under Nico’s every sharp thrust and he held George’s legs back farther so he could get a better angle. George crooned erotically at the stretch up his thighs (and deep inside him) and his hand on the back of the woman’s head kept her swallowing down his cock at the same time. She moaned and gagged around him, draped half on top of him to get herself facing down between his bent and wide open legs while Nico held control.

George writhed and moaned, sheets curled in his fingers with his other hand tangling in the back of her hair. He stared up at Nico the best he could no matter how much his eyes wanted to shut with the intensity of it all. He could barely offer a pleading little nod, tears pricking the corners of his eyes, mouthing a broken, “Yes…”

“Yes?” Nico echoed out loud, his eyebrows raising without a falter of his motions.

The woman lifted her head up from between George’s legs with a spitty gasp and cough, blinking herself back to reality for a moment before leaning in to kiss along Nico’s happy trail as he kept fucking into the whimpering man beneath him. When she moved back, she readjusted herself beside George and leaned down to kiss his neck instead and he couldn’t help the frown that came to his face as the rising intensity tapered with the loss of her mouth on his dick.

His arm was still lazily around her, hand cupping her bare shoulder as if to keep her from leaving his side. Not that she was planning on it because the way she was kissing and licking and sucking over his neck and collarbones made it very clear she was very happy where she was. George tilted his head back to give her room to kiss up the column of his neck and she licked over his Adam's apple and nipped at his jaw.

Nico let out a tight groan, “You feel so good, Georgie.”

George couldn’t answer behind the beautiful woman’s tongue helping itself to his mouth. His lips smacked wetly with hers despite the way his body jostled slightly with every firm thrust from the man above him, his slick cock bouncing. He was so fucking hard and so turned on that he was leaking all over his abs, smearing sticky precum across his flushed skin, and he just had to reach down to touch himself.

He barely got a hand around his dick before Nico was swatting his hand away to do it himself. Nico matched the pace of his relentless thrusts with his hand pumping George’s cock, giving him that glorious added stimulation that he had been craving.

“Ah!” George all but squeaked, breaking away from the kiss, “Nico! Fuck! Don’t stop!”

“Not gonna stop,” Nico promised breathily, his voice a velvety purr. His hand stroked him off, made easily slick by the combination of spit, precum, and the presence of lube that seemed to be covering almost every part of their bodies. Then, he adjusted his position just a little more, pushing into him just a little more straight-on, and like the flip of a switch, George’s entire body turned boneless.

“Ohh-hh-hh—” George withered, eyes rolling shut, “Fuck-ing— yes, right there—”

He could hear the sweet giggle of the woman beside him, barely recognizing the heat of her hand on his chest or her lips attaching themselves to his neck again, fingers swirling over his hardened nipples. The feeling of Nico drilling right into his fucking prostate had tears burning in George’s eyes and one trailed down his flushed cheek. George couldn’t lay still. Nico held a firm grip on his ankle to keep him from getting too far, fucking him into submission on his king size bed and expensive sheets.

It was fine, though, really. George felt too much like the personification of putty to really move, the logical part of his brain that was desperately clinging onto this newfound pleasure refusing to let him wiggle away from this. Nothing had felt quite like this before.

He felt as though the heat was rising in his body, a sizzling warmth pumping through his veins and swelling through his cock as it throbbed in Nico’s hand. George’s hands flew to the sides, gripping the sheets until his knuckles turned white, trying to steady his breathing with how fast and desperate it was coming now.

“Oh, look at you,” the woman praised him angelically, her words echoing in his ears.

“Nnngh—” was the only sound George could manage to get out as his body slowly but surely grew into tension. He desperately tried to keep his eyes open, staring up at Nico above him and the way his jaw was clenched in concentration. The pad of Nico’s thumb grazed over the underside of the head of his cock with every firm stroke and George could feel himself getting closer by the second.

“Come on,” Nico said through his teeth, keeping his firm pace going, “That’s it.”

“I’m gonna come…” George managed out in the most pathetic whimper known to man, making him sound like was about to sob. “Please…please, Nico, please, please—”

“That’s it, Georgie,” Nico praised. “Be a good boy and come for me.”

George had never felt the build up like this before. Sure, it had always been an overwhelming feeling but, now, he felt almost beside himself with the intensity…and it just kept building and building. His breaths were growing more and more jagged, laced in with moans and anticipatory whimpers that grew pitchier, fists tugging at the sheets with his bottom lip lodged between his teeth as he stared up at Nico.

When the build up reached its peak, George’s eyelids fluttered erotically like he was being fucking posessed and his breath caught in his throat, body tensing for a split second as if he had hit a brick wall. Everything halted.

Much to his surprise, the first shot of cum streaked right up to land across his cheek.

Quickly, it was followed by a second that landed across his lips.

George couldn’t even react to the fact that he just came so hard that he came on his own face as he felt like he had lost complete control of his body as his orgasm tore through him. He was sent into pleasured convulsions as Nico fucked him through it and kept stroking him off at the same time. More thick spurts came out, albeit more tame than the initial few, painting up George’s chest and abs in ribbons after ribbons as he sobbed out his teammate’s name with a voice filled with nothing but pure eroticism.

He sounded like a fucking pornstar as he gasped and moaned and cried through it. George, in all his hazy euphoric glory, swore it was never going to end; the intense waves of pleasure just kept rolling through him in a seemingly never-ending progression. It truly felt like he was experiencing an orgasm for the first time all over again. Unreal.

Nico let go of George’s cock in a hurried motion as he pulled out of him and rolled off the condom. He barely had it tossed to the side before his hand was taking its place around his dick and he gave himself a few desperate pumps. In seconds, he was coming too, streaking right up George’s abs, mixing in with his own mess of cum, and the last few drops painted the shaft of George’s softening cock.

George had barely had his wits about him to properly appreciate Nico’s face and sounds when he came; merely hearing the echo of his moans somewhere in the haze as he shuddered on his bed and let him come all over him. Blinking away the tears from his eyes as his orgasm finally tapered off into that post-euphoria buzz, George’s eyes was honed in on Nico’s flushed face and pleasured expression, watching as the older man dragged two fingers through his cum on George’s abs and then lifted his fingers.

George, as if driven by instinct, let his swollen lips part and let him slide his cum-covered fingers into his mouth. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Nico’s gaze, staring up at him as he sucked on his fingers and licked them clean. The slightly salty taste startled his taste buds but there was almost an underlying hint of sweetness that had George shamelessly enjoying it. Or maybe it was just the fact that it was Nico’s cum he was being fed, by the hand of the man himself, after near years of suppressing his strange desire for just that.

Nico pulled his fingers from George's mouth and then dragged his wet fingertips over his spitty lips, gathering up some of his own cum to then push back in against his tongue. With a breathless purr, Nico praised him, “Good boy…cleaning up your mess without a single complaint out of that pretty mouth of yours.”

George hummed around his fingers, eyelashes heavy and fluttering. When Nico pulled his fingers back out, a thin string of spit broke between his fingertips and George’s pouted lips. The woman beside them, who had been watching the whole ordeal with a front row seat, moved in to clean up the rest without a word.

Once her lips met George’s cheek in an open mouthed kiss, his hand blindly raised to rest around her bicep as she leaned in and started to kiss and lick up the cum that was still streaked across his cheek and smeared around his lips. The two of them soon melted into slow, sloppy kisses, breathless and wanton, almost more tongue than anything else.

When she pulled away, she swiped the pad of her thumb over his bottom lip and George draped an arm above his head with a breathy sigh as his eyes fell closed. He swallowed thickly as he caught his barings, melting into the comfortable mattress beneath him.

And then, with a tone taking on a bit more seriousness, Nico asked him, “You okay?”

George nodded, dazed, “Mhm.”

“Yeah?” Nico chuckled warmly, his hands rubbing up and down the outsides of George’s thighs that still framed him, easing him out of his pleasure, “You took it like a fucking champion.”

“You really did,” the woman agreed with a hint of pride in her voice.

“Fuck,” George croaked out, his voice suddenly so rough that he had to clear his throat. His eyes fluttered open again to look up at the two beautiful people knelt over him, his gaze drifting to Nico as he replied cheekily, “Yeah, you reckon we’re both champions now then?”

The trio shared breathy laughter.

The woman draped herself out beside George on the large bed and his arm naturally went around her, pulling her close as he turned his head and pressed a kiss to her temple. Nico shifted off the bed, announcing he was going to get a damp cloth to help clean them up and they let him go. Comfortable in the presence of his beautiful grid girl, George, at the same time, felt a strange emptiness as Nico disappeared around the corner and into the ensuite bathroom.

She tilted her head back against George’s arm to meet his gaze, bringing him back to their moment with a playful, “Quite the first date then, hm?”

George’s expression broke into a handsome grin and he offered a lighthearted eyeroll and a, “You can say that again.”

“Mm, I was surprised you asked me out, honestly,” she stated casually.

“Really?” George glanced at her. Her cheeks were still rouged from the remnants of their escapades. “Why?”

“Because it was always painfully clear that you had eyes for Nico.”

She answered like it was nothing more than a declaration of the weather. George shivered.

Before he could even figure out what to reply with, Nico returned to the room. With him, he carried three warm, damp cloths and the trio shared the responsibility of cleaning themselves and each other up, wiping away sweat and lube and cum from their flushed skin. Then, laying together in a euphoric tangle all together on Nico’s expensive bed sheets, nude, George was blissfully in the middle.

No one spoke for a moment; simply catching their bearings. George stared at the ceiling.

After a moment, he worked up enough courage to turn his head to the right to look at Nico. He was already looking back at him.

Nico’s lips pricked up at the corner in a small smirk and he took the initiative to lift his hand up to press the pad of his thumb against the corner of George’s lips, “You have a bit of—”

George stayed still, staring at him, as he wiped a bit of cum from the corner of his mouth.

George’s mind was spinning. Did he always have such thoughts about Nico because he felt protected by him? Just held him on a pedestal because Nico was the one who took him under his wing and helped him develop into the driver and title contender he was? Or was there more to it? As he laid there, naked, in Nico’s bed, it felt equal parts terrifying and improper and, yet, as if it were right where he was meant to be.

There was so much still unsaid between the three of them as the night dragged on, logistics and meanings behind their night together needing to be discussed. There was a lot George needed to wrap his mind around, having to figure out where he stood with both parties and what his own reflection of self looked like moving forward. It wasn’t all going to be figured out in one night. So, for now, he let himself simply take the moments as they came.

Technicalities could be smoothed over later. It wasn’t a race. Besides, he had the upcoming season to focus on and prepare for, in which he would be taking the position of first driver. He had big shoes to fill.

And eventually, a year later, with two races still left in the season and forty-six points ahead of the runner up, George Russell won his first World Championship.

He went over to Nico’s to celebrate.

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