#I will also admit that drawing Caviar unlocked THAT part of my brain again

[bluebutlikenotalways]

And so we return, as all things do, to Centaurworld.

[X] Should I draw Nowhere King Black Pearl? Vote now!

ALSO! White Pearl’s design is once again cosmicwhoreo’s

Actually I’m not leaving this in the tags. I loved doing those funky backgrounds, but it also means a diversity loss because he fucking speared her on bisexual beach DX

[benbarnesescape]

The Wager - Chapter 2

Part 1 

Warnings: Mentions of 18+ SMUT, slow burn, Logan being Logan….

A/N: Oh boy. This has literally been stewing in my brain for a month now. It’s also going to be the first in a six part chapter series as it kicks of Day 1 of my Happy Holidays with Mr. Barnes. @giggleberts this is especially for you - I know you’ve been waiting a while for this one! 

Enjoy my loves!

New to the series? Read Chapter 1 - Parts 1 2 3 4 5 6 

His hands gripped around her hair, his fingers getting knotted in the strands as her mouth worked him over, her mouth hollowed around his cock. His head was thrown back, body tense as he slumped against the cool tile wall, his pants around his knees as the woman below him grabbed his hips, driving him deeper into her mouth.

He should have been out in the main ballroom, talking with potential investors and new clients. Should have been casually staying at Rachel’s side, providing a distraction from her ex-boyfriend who had found this opportunity to try to win over her heart.

Instead, he had convinced Stacey? Susan? He couldn’t remember and it was irrelevant. He had managed to sweet talk her into taking a detour to the bathroom, his mind needing the distraction. These large social gatherings, they always triggered a restlessness in him. Made him feel like he had to overcompensate for something. His father always looking down at him condescendingly, making him feel like an insecure, insignificant man despite all of his success.

Normally, you had attended these type of events with him. Normally it was you that had always given him little squeezes of encouragement when his father made a prude comment at a dinner table in front of investors, the one who distracted him on the dance floor to remind him that he was made up more than expensive champagne and caviar.

You had reminded him of his worth.

But he hadn’t spoken to you in six months. Half a year. The longest bout of silence you both had ever had apart. The first couple of days, he had given you your space. Figured you needed to calm down, that the wine had made you overreact. When three weeks had gone by, he had become worried. When he tried texting you, he was rewarded with radio silence. When he sent you flowers, they were sent back.

Finally, you had sent him a letter. It was simple and probably not even worth the dollar and twenty cents for postage.

Stop contacting me. I’m done. I can’t be friends with someone who doesn’t see my worth past what’s between my legs. Who lies and deliberately manipulates the people close in their life. I care for you Logan, but I can’t continue to have a friendship that is empty of trust

Goodbye Logan.

That had killed him. The pain shot right to his heart. The paper had torn in his grip, his eyes snapping shut to try to keep the pool of tears from falling down his cheeks. He had caused this. In his fear, in his inability to just leap in and be vulnerable, he had pushed you away for good. He wasn’t able to function for weeks. Even Juliet had been worried when, after three weeks, he refused to leave his large apartment. One mention of your name and he had crumbled, admitting to the events of the night. She had been patient, listening to her older brother break down. Something she hadn’t seen since he was a child. When he was done, she had made it clear. Empathized but clear.

He had chosen this path. Now he had to deal with the consequences. And that meant letting you go.

So he tried. Tried to go back to his old ways. But it didn’t matter. Couldn’t matter. He missed you. He loved you so much and he missed you. He kept tabs on you still, quietly, but the information he received back was minimal. You were doing well. Still working the gallery business.

Nothing else.

As he stood there, the warmth of someone else’s mouth clasped around his softening erection, his mind sought out images of you. The way you had looked the last time he had seen you, the way your lips had been puffy and red when he had pulled away from your kiss. The hooded way your eyes fell as you looked back at him reverently, your fingers trailing down his face lovingly as you smiled back at him uncertainly. The way his name whispered against your lips.

He groaned, his erection hardening in the brunette’s mouth as she gives a grateful moan. He thought about the way he had imagined you would look sucking him, the way your doe eyes would blink up at him innocently, your lashes blinking against your cheek as your mouth enveloped him, your tongue gliding against every inch of his sensitive flesh. The way it would feel to have your hands cradle his balls as you purred around him, your mouth taking him deeper and deeper as you brought him to that place that would have him screaming out your name, his semen pumping into your mouth as you took all of him.

The thought rips through him, causing him to come in the mouth of the woman, your name a hollowed whisper as he pours into her mouth. When she pulls away from him, her face is contorted, disappointed and he gives a contented sigh.

“That was great Stacey.”

“The name is Selina.”

He doesn’t say anything, bending down to raise up his pants and he she scoffs, struggling to get up.

“Are you kidding me?”

“You were the one who offered the blow job. I told you I couldn’t give you anything in return.” He says, walking toward the sink and grabbing his drink. She growls, getting up and grabbing her shoes, unlocking the door and shuffling back into the crowded ballroom. He looks in the mirror, takes in in the way his hair has been disrupted, the new edgy hairstyle a bit ruffled as he restyles it before finishes his bourbon. Then he buttons his jacket before stepping back into the loud chaos, walking just in time to run into Rachel.

“That was pretty shitty.” She says and he quirks up an eyebrow. “You know, sleeping with Selina. She’s been rattling on about you to me for weeks, figured she could win you over...”

He shrugs as he walks past her, not slowing down as he walks to the bar.

“I told her what she could expect.” He finally says with Rachel on his heels and she scoffs, throwing her purse on the counter.

“Well what about myself. What should I have expected?” he turns to her and she gives him a soft punch. “Darius. Remember him. My crazy ex I was hiding from.” 

He groans as he signals for the bartender for a drink before turning to her,

“Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to abandon you. Just needed the distraction.”

She’s silent as she watches him. She knows that Logan had been different ever since the day you had come to the shop. He had only talked to Juliet about it though. Wouldn’t with him. Juliet had of course shared with her but she wouldn’t risk bringing it up to him. Knew that his pride and ego couldn’t handle it.

Knew that he had probably loved you and didn’t know how communicate it to you. So he did what he always did when he was afraid. He ran.

“Sure…” she turns, resting her back on the counter. “Wanna head outta here soon. I much rather get drunk in my apartment watching a stupid film then continue to sell my soul to these snakes.”

He laughed, leaning against the bar as the bartender bought him his drink. He knew Rachel probably knew. Figured Juliet had blabbed to her. Was grateful that she knew not to probe. He couldn’t handle that. It was why he didn’t go to therapy. He knew what the hell was wrong with him. Why pay someone to consistently remind him that he had daddy issues that led him unwilling to trust and love anyone outside of himself.

That was a waste of time and money and he refused to willing throw away both for the sake of feeling better.

“Sounds great.”

There’s silence again as he drinks, his eyes taking in the New York horizon. Getting lost in thoughts of you. He’s so distracted, so enraptured in his thoughts, that he almost misses her voice.

“We gotta leave now.” She says again, firmer, her hand gripping around his arm.

“What? Why?”

“Trust me.” She says this through her teeth and she grabs his drink, throwing it down. He gives her a confused look as she starts to drag him through the large space, spectators watching them curiously. He’s drunk again, the alcohol that he had burned out from the earlier activities refueling in his system along with his current cup and he giggles, shaking his head.

“What the hell has you so distracted?” he asks and she’s quiet. There almost to the exit when she turns into a waiter, drawing attention to the both of them as glass and alcohol fall to the ground.

“Shit, shit, shit, I’m sorry shit.” Rachel is incoherent as she tries to quickly pick up glass and Logan stands, taking in the room. Watching as the men in the room watch them, whispering among themselves and he can’t help but to laugh.

The last time Rachel and him had made such a spectacle, they had been in high school and wait staff had walked in on them having sex.

How times had changed.

It’s in the midst of his laughter, his eyes drunkenly shooting down the spectators that he see’s something familiar. The curve of your hips. Skin popping against emerald material. Hair styled back, stray strands curling in your face. The glint of your eyes as you laugh, walking from the balcony.

You.

You were there. You were there in a scandalous emerald gown, the material hugging all the parts of you that had him up for hours each night. Your eyes were shining, glistening with tears as you laughed heartily. Unaware of the attention that Rachel and him had showcased on himself.

But you weren’t alone.

Instead, your arm was hanging snuggling around the arm of someone else. He was laughing alongside you, his suit fitting around his strong physique as you both giggled into your drinks. The way his hands trailed downwards, around those hips that his fingers itched for, his blue eyes looking at you in that adoring way Logan had once done to you.

He knew this guy.

Chris Rogers. He was some golden boy out of Brooklyn. Didn’t come from money. Instead, he had worked his way up the ranks. Had started some new software security system that all the big shots liked. Had grown up in a small two bedroom apartment with his mom and three older sisters. Dad had died back, a war hero.

He was humble and down to earth. A lot of people liked him. He was sweet, his older secretary had said the one time he had visited to partner with Delos Inc. A charmer. Even his dad couldn’t deny that. Golden Boy is what everyone was nicknaming him.

The Golden Boy had won over your heart.

Fuck.

“C’mon Logan. Let’s get outta here…” Rachel’s voice stops as her eyes glance from him to you and she groans.

“Fuck.” She mutters and he turns to her, watching as her eyes betray her. She knew. Had probably known since he’d been here.  

“How long?” he mutters and she looks away stubbornly.

“Not long. I mean, I heard he’s been asking about her but I didn’t know if they were a thing or anything. From what I’ve heard, sounds like he has a crush on her or something….”

His mind see’s red. You were his. You were made for him. He knew this because he was made for you. Breathed for you. Lived for you.

Golden boy wasn’t going to steal that.

“Don’t Logan…” Rachel says, following after him as he started his way towards you.

Nope. Not today.

Three Hours Earlier

“Don’t want to go.”

You sat bitterly on the edge of your bed, your hands crossed in your bra and underwear. When Leslie had called you earlier, asking if you could attend a work event with her, you hadn’t thought anything big of it. It was the holiday season, companies were having corporate parties all the time. Any excuse to drink free booze and have free dinner was good enough for you.

It was when you had looked at the invitation, wanted to double check what the dress code was going to be like that you had saw the words etched on the card.

Delos Towers.

You had seen red. Hadn’t budged from the end of the bed since Leslie had flitted to the living room to grab something from her bag, coming back in to see your set jaw, the invitation firmly in your hand.

“He shouldn’t be there.”

You look at her, your arms folded more sharply into your body as you shake your head profusely.

“Don’t care. I don’t want to put myself into a situation where I’m uncomfortable. He makes me uncomfortable. I don’t want to go.”

Leslie sighs, taking a seat beside you.

“You both kinda operate in the same world. You can’t avoid him together.”

Your eyes narrow as she shrugs,

“I’m not saying I’m team Logan or anything – I’m just informing you that you’ve done a great job of avoiding him but you can’t continue to do so for the rest of your life. At some point you gotta show up, show him who the true bad ass bitch is and let it go.”

You give a defeated huff, knowing that she’s correct. Hating her even more for knowing she’s right.

“Whatever. Fine. I’m only going for the free booze and if I make a spectacle of myself I’m not apologizing for embarrassing you.”

Leslie laughs, shaking her head.

“Not concerned in the slightest.”

She hadn’t been concerned because she knew that it wouldn’t be a problem. When you both had arrived, Leslie had submerged herself with all the high rollers, drinking champagne merrily as she interacted with new clients. The event had been pretty informal considering the dress code – black tie – but that wasn’t stopping the groups of people from allowing liquor to dictate their actions. 

You had thought this what you needed. You had interacted with a few people, letting them know of opportunists to use the galleries you managed to host events but after that had been done, you were content on going back home. Sitting on your couch while you watched horror movies to distract you from this time of the year, of Logan, of how incredibly depressing it was to be a human being that couldn’t connect with anyone.

Bah Humbug had become your new 2017 holiday motto.

It was what also had led you to standing on the balcony of the magnificent tower looking out at the New York Skyline. You hadn’t bothered with a jacket, ignoring the way the cold was piercing your skin.

You missed him. Missed him so much it was almost painful, the reality of him not being around. Logan was a lot of things – certified asshole, pompous pigheaded loser, lonely nutcase – the list you had created for him these past months went on, but he was also kind, thoughtful, considerate, intelligent but most importantly scared. When you thought back to the night, of the words you had both exchanged because wine had willed you both confidently, things started to stack up.

Logan couldn’t give you his heart all at once. He had to give you pieces, bit by bit, in order for you to fully have him. You had greedily jumped on the opportunity, though, and had asked too much of him – pinning him to a corner and having him lash out in defense.

Didn’t excuse the fact that he was an asshole and rude and crude but for people like Logan, people who weren’t taught how to empathize and to use their money as their persona, it was to be expected.

Except you had cut him out and you weren’t sure if you were even able to get him back.

“Sorry, didn’t know anyone was out here.”

The deep voice takes you off guard and you jump, the contents from your very full champagne flute spilling over the glass. Leslie had been pouring drinks and you had taken it absentmindedly, an afterthought as you got lost in your internal thoughts.

The voice that had startled you nears you, a soft smile on his lips and you try to control your jaw from dropping. This wasn’t just any voice, any man that had startled you. It was Manhattan’s up and coming pretty boy – the young coding genius who had made a mark on Wall Street for not only renovating cyber technology and security, but also had a great ‘pull yourself from your bootstraps’ story.

Leslie and Jessica were obsessed with him. Since they worked in the corporate world, they had interacted with him in different occasions and each time left them a blabbering, thirsty mess. You were too caught up in your self-depression to care about someone new but now, watching him walk over to you in confidence, you had wished you had paid more attention.

If you had, you would have known the 6’3 blonde man with the handsome chiseled face and broad shoulders looked like a creation from DaVinci come to life. He was slinging off his jacket as he neared you, hesitating as he said,

“I needed to get some air and thought I’d step up here and take in the view. Didn’t realize the woman in emerald had already occupied the place. A lot of people wondered where you ventured off too.”

You’re still silent as he get closer and you’re able to pick up on his cologne, the way oak and basil blend in your nostrils.

“You are more than free to have my jacket. I still have my suit jacket on and it’s not that cold. But in your dress…wouldn’t want you to catch a cold.”

You look at the pea coat he’s offering, before turning back to the skyline. Trying to process what the hell is happening and you hear him hesitate.

“….Or I can just leave you alone. Don’t want to be a bother.”

He’s turning and you shoot your hand out to grab his arm, taking him off guard as you say,

“No, it’s fine. Sorry just…..I was trying to process some things and…..I don’t mind your company at all.”

He smiles back at you as he throws the jacket over your shoulders and stands beside you,

“What brings you out here? Too much attention from all the guys in there?”

Its subtle, the question and what he’s implying and you shake your head as you smother yourself in his jacket, the warmth reminding your brain just how cold you are. Your brain is swimming in his scent and you try to control your breathy response as you chuckle out,

“Hah no! My best friend dragged me out tonight and…..I don’t know. I have to see these people day to day and I don’t care much for them in the sunlight. Being around them when their demons come out at night has been less than enjoyable.”

He chuckles beside you, the large rumbling shaking his body as he nods leaning against the rail so he’s at your eye level.

“I know what you mean.” He says softly and you smile as you turn back to the skyline.

“I’m sure you do. You’re only Wall Street’s new golden boy – Chris Rogers. Everybody is talking about you,” his eyes flit over to you, his cheeks flushing over in a soft red and you can’t help but nudge him playfully. “Don’t be shy. It’s amazing to work really hard and finally land on top.”

“So you do know who I am.”

You shrug.

“I have plenty of female clients and friends who have brought your name up on multiple occasions these past couple of weeks.”

“Oh,” he shifts closer to you. “You haven’t gone out of your way to get to know me?”

His voice is laced with inquisitiveness, his face full of youthful curiousity and you can’t help but give another subtle shrug and he bites his lip, before turning to the skyline.

“I don’t want to come off as weird or anything, but I know about you.” Your head whips to him, interest playing in your eyes as he continues, his eyes never leaving the Hudson. “I know that you’re Y/N Y/L/N. You’re a curator for about six up and coming art galleries around town and that since you’ve jumped into management, all of their profits have turned over double. Know that you’ve hosted multiple events for my starter company and that every single person that I interacted with at these parties knew your name and had one good thing to say about you. That you tend to favor Roman and Grecian art versus the overly sold Renaissance and that one Saturday a month you host events for families who are lower income and teach special classes. I know that about 90% of the men in there have been vying for your attention since you walked in and that you’ve not given any of them, of us, a single thought.”

You quirk an eye up as he turns to you and you laugh, shaking your head.

“You’re good.” You place your hand on the rail as you lean into it. “Did Marcy my boss let you know all that? Or are you really that observant?”

He laughs as he stands, his hands digging into his pockets.

“Marcy may have shared a bit of information with me when she saw me staring at you at the party the Swanson’s held a few weeks back. Tried to give me tips to get your attention but I have to say, this is the first time you’ve even looked my way.”

You bite your lip, looking down at the people moving stories below you. That had been true. Since you’re fallout with Logan, you had been operating through life as a zombie.

“It’s ok,” he says hurriedly, sensing that he’s upset you. You look up at him, his blue eyes laced with worry as he continues. “I…you don’t have to give me attention. You don’t even have to talk to me after this. I just wanted to introduce myself.”

Before you can say anything laughter rips through the traffic heavy night and you and Chris turn, watching as an older gentleman moves outside the balcony windows to the open lounge area with a young redhead at his lips. Both of their hands work furiously as they tear at each other’s clothing, their mouths molding onto one another.

Chris pulls you from their view site, tugging you behind a massive pillar, his large hands falling on your waist and you fall onto him, your hands landing on his very defined chest. How this man was so buff was beyond you. You both look up at each other as sounds of lovemaking enter the air, the awkward tension in the air lending way to you both smiling like teenagers.

“Was that the senator I just saw?” he whispers and you nod, small burst of giggles coming out of you.

“What should we do? I feel weird just standing out here, listening….” You give a low laugh and shrug.

“They’re blocking our only exit. I don’t want to be involved in the embarrassing drunk mess that could come from us trying to sneak by. I could maybe get away with it but…you’re not an easy guy to miss.” He eyes you, something playful and innocent shining down at you as you shrug, “We could play two truths and a lie. Or Never Have I Ever to pass time….”

It’s a juvenile thought and you immediately want to take it back as it leaves your lips. You were thirty years old, you were sure he was around that age if not older, and playing some adolescent game sounded immature. Instead he grins, his grip around your waist firmer as he nods.

“Deal.”

It was thirty minutes of playing a variety of get to know you games before the senator and his guest had leave the dark lounge area. Thirty minutes to learn that Chris Rogers was the youngest of four – the only male. Learned that he had gone to public schools his whole life and been bullied for most of his teenage life due to his size until he filled out in high school. That he valued charity and spent most of his free time back in his old neighborhood coaching kids. That he quit playing a variety of sports his senior, a fully accomplished senior that was on the brink of receiving a plethora of athletic scholarships because he felt like if he continued to be surrounded by men who didn’t value other human beings, he wouldn’t be the kind of man that his mom and dad had raised him to be. That instead he joined the Marines to help pay for his undergrad and masters, developing his software initially for the military before he went to the public market.

You learned that he was really soft spoken and shy, that he was very much a gentleman and was shy. That he was the kind of guy that did the right thing because he genuinely believed in the good in people, and was willing to fight for that good. And most importantly that, despite the subtle attempts he tried to maneuver, he was very into you.

“They left champagne.” He nods toward the full bottle that is sitting on a side table of the now abandoned open lobby, waiting until you’re back inside the warm building before following after you.

“They were probably going to celebrate their triste but got distracted.” You giggle as you walk to the bottle and tsk. “This is a 1930’s bottle. Probably worth more than I’ll ever be in this lifetime. Such a waste.”

He comes up behind you, grabbing the bottle and pouring into your freshly empty glass. You had both chugged the little you had brought up during your word games and were now thirsty for more,

“I doubt there will ever be anything in this world that can measure to your worth.” 

Its cheesy, the line, a bit old fashioned but the emotion behind it is sincere as his eyes lock on yours before his cheeks are blushing again, embarrassed as he fills up your flute.

“Don’t have a glass but how about cheers to the birth of a new friendship?” his words are hopeful, the glimmer of optimism sparkling in his eyes and you smile as you toast.

“Cheers to a new friendship.” You say warmly, before bringing the drink to your lips. You both take a long chug, allowing the bubbles to take over your senses and he gives a goofy grin as he looks down at the bottle.

“I don’ think I will ever be able to erase the image of the senator’s wrinkly chest from my mind…”

“No!” you yell in protest as you grab the bottle, tipping the bubbly alcohol into your cup. “We are going to drink this bottle into its burned from our memory. NO ONE should be exposed to that – his wife included.”

By the time you are walking back into the ballroom you’re both more than toasty. The 1933 champagne empty and working wonders in your system as you laced your arm through Chris’s, his jacket hanging limply in his free hand as he maneuvers you both to the main area.

“What will they think,” you give a slight hiccup and giggle in embarrassment as he looks down at you. “What will they think when they see me stumbling back in with you?”

“That I got lucky?” he grins and you playfully hit his chest. He grabs your hand, looking down at you in that adoring way again and you decide, in your drunken state, that he was worthy of every females attention. He seemed to be too good of a human being, too square, but you liked being around him. It felt natural.

“Yea, yea, that’s what all the women will be saying about me.”

You give another hiccup and your hand comes up to your face, trying to stop the giggles and hiccups coming from your mouth. His hands are firm as they move down to your waist, carefully watching you before saying,

“So you do acknowledge that you might think I’m a bit cute.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“I’m just….I really would like to ask you out to dinner or something and I just can’t figure out if you’re into me. You’re a hard read, Y/L/N.”

His lips are lifted in a playful smile but the curiosity behind each word is written all over his eyes and you try to straighten in his embrace as you steady out. When you slip you laugh and he holds you tighter before you say,

“I’m a disaster and in no shape to answer soundly but, c’mon you’re gorgeous and intelligent and funny and actually have a sense of morals and ideals. Why wouldn’t I be attracted to you?”

Relief floods his eyes as his mouth opens up to respond when he’s interrupted by a familiar voice. A voice that was filled with confidence and anger and you already know who it is. It’s the voice that has been haunting your dreams for six months.

“Imagine seeing you both here. Y/N. Rogers. What brings you two lovebirds to our little holiday affair?”