All's Fair in Love and Kitty Cards:
𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓑𝓲𝓰𝓰𝓮𝓻 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓐𝓻𝓮: 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓗𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓕𝓪𝓵𝓵
❥ ┊𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲; You've decided to bring home an electronic board game of kitty cards, and make the oh so simple suggestion of playing strip kitty cards to entice your work weary boyfriend Zayne into trying it out with you. After all, you're THEE Queen of Kitty Cards herself- it's not like you could lose, right?
❥ ┊𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠; bullet fic format (sorry, don't have the energy to devote to full fic rn 😅), reader referred to as you/your and she/her, this one really got away from me omf it's longer than I mean it to be eek, not proof read, written in a whirlwind bc this idea would not leave me be until I got it out, not full smut but very suggestive, just good ol' fashioned romantic fun. Zayne thinks you're hot ♡
Yes, I will be doing Xavier and Rafayel as well
Zayne rarely got too serious with kitty cards. He'd rather watch you have fun than engage in a real competition. Your smile and serious expression were far more entertaining than any game, and the delighted light in your eyes after a victory (no matter how wide or narrow) was always his most welcome reward.
That was, until you brought home that new electronic board game version, setting it up before he'd gotten home and surprising him with it only moments after he'd taken off his shoes and coat.
At first he wasn't that interested. I mean the cats where half the fun of kitty cards lets be real, plus he was tired.
But when you suggested (with a wicked little glint in your eye that had his heart stop momentarily, mind you) that you guys play strip kitty cards, he stood there blinking in silence for a solid 15 seconds, just processing.
"How upset would you be if I won, though?" He carefully asked once he finally came out of it, that little smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. God he can be so smug sometimes.
You of course tell him that you're the literal Queen, Her Meowjesty the First, and this is your domain. You demand he put respect on that name and remember it well.
You'd come to eat those words later.
The first round you win easily. Just like every game before, it would seem the kitties favor you above all else (why wouldn't they, you were their Queen after all). He gives a soft chuckle, removing his vest and placing it over the back of his couch. "Round two, then?"
Round two seems to take a similar route. You almost feel bad for Zayne. He's always been a bit of a pushover when it comes to kitty cards, and as you fill the final cup cementing your victory 23-10, you watch as he loosens his tie tossing it aside and removing each sleeve garter, laying them on the table next to his vest chain. Zayne doesn't say anything this time, only watches you as you reshuffle the cards and get the board cleared for a new game.
Round three is where you finally start to feel him trying. It's a bit like reeling in a fish. You feel like you're making some headway and and then he'll pull out a Bye Bye on your double point kitty, or use a Purrcieve and discard your pink 6 kitty when there was an open pink cup. Nothing earth shattering- you could and did still wipe the floor with him, but the way Zayne watched you over the tops of his cards as he did so started to make you feel... vulnerable, despite all your layers.
When he finally sheds his third layer- his shirt- you realize all too late that you've fallen into the spider's web. With his broad, muscled shoulders, sharp collarbones that crowned his perfect pecs, and strong biceps corded with beautifully laced veins that traveled down his scarred forearms to his large hands that currently rested against those masterfully made lats and abs and.... oh.
Oh no.
Zayne catches you staring (how could he not, honestly. You were practically drooling), and regards you with that little quirk of his lip and raise of his brow. "Everything alright? Ready for round 4?" Worry starts to eat at you when you realize he doesn't sound at all worried. He's already shirtless only 3 layers from being completely nude, and he sounds like he's already won.
Not one to accept defeat so easily, you swallow, set your expression in determination, and deal the cards.
And yet
4 rounds later and Zayne had yet to remove another article of clothing.
Your clothes (and your dignity as The Queen) lay tossed about the room in a perfect metaphor for your current emotional state.
This man. THIS MAN. Despite all your usual tricks and banter, Zayne had refused every single one of your pleas to trade cards. No amount of begging or bargaining would be accepted tonight, and during your last attempt he'd made it very clear that should you ask again, he'd put the game away since you obviously weren't interested in actually testing your skills.
So here you sat. In your bra and panties, your metaphorical crown plucked from your head and reshaped into a dunce cone.
The kitties had forsaken you.
It had started out so well, but once that shirt came off it was suddenly so hard to focus. You'd find yourself watching as he'd roll his shoulder, gazing as his chest or ribs expanded with a particularly deep breath. Let your eyes linger on each and every scar that dappled his hands and forearms. Watch his Adam's apple bob as he'd take a particularly long drink of the water at his side.
Honestly, it seemed like the more layers you lost, the harder he was to ignore as well.
Little did you know the absolute torment this man was going through on his end.
Sure, setting the trap was easy enough. You were always so sure of your kitty card playing ability, and he so rarely put up a fight when you begged for mercy. However, turning your pleading down each time as you sat across from him in less and less clothing, looking at him with those big teary eyes was threatening to completely undo him. Listening to you whine his name and watch as your perfect lips pouted so full and glossy in the lamp light was too much, he couldn't take it.
You and your games would be the death of him, surly.
Round 6 is where his empire fell.
Your defeat was swift, of course. Zanye had struck gold with 4 Meow This in his hand, and pulled a complete shut out. It was like in the movies when the character watches in slow-mo as their impending death rushes towards them, and as you were left with no number cards to fill the last cup on your turn, you watched as Zayne placed his.
"I believe that's another win for me." His tone was proud- joyful, even. Typically one of your favorite expressions he made, if you were being honest. Something about Zayne's smug, rather cocky attitude really got you going sometimes, and sitting here for the last hour, ogling his shoulder and arms and hands and abs... well... that hadn't been helping the literal ocean between your thighs either.
Your silence (and likely the deer in the headlights expression you wore) spurred a warm chuckle from him, the sound both rich and comforting, yet still strange enough to snap you back to reality.
"I believe I've earned my next reward, correct?"
Oh... this bastard. This beautiful bastard.
Puffing your cheeks at him in a pout, you consider accusing him of cheating (partially in jest, you know he wouldn't, but also why is he SO DAMN GOOD all of a sudden??), but in the soft glow of the lights, your eyes catch his, and you see something darker. Immediately, your heart begins racing, skin prickling with the familiar feeling of anticipation in battle.
Wait, in battle?
This wasn't the first time you'd have taken your bra off in front of Zayne, so why did you feel so much like... prey in this moment? As your hand slowly reached behind you to find the clasp, it was apparent you weren't the only one feeling the weight in the air. The subtle creak of the couch let you know he'd leaned forward, eager to watch and enjoy the prize he'd rightfully won.
"What are you waiting for?" The subtle tilt and bob of his head mirrors the quick uptick at the corner of his mouth, a motion you're so familiar with by now. A playful gesture of his, reserved for those moments when he's feeling particularly teasing or goading.
It only stokes the fire in you, of course. The amber hues in his green eyes, further illuminated by the warm lamplight, bore into you despite his otherwise neutral expression.
With a flick of your wrist, the clasp is undone. You consider playing a bit, slowly sliding the straps down to tease and tempt, maybe using your arms to cover what he desired to see most. Surely he deserved a taste of his own medicine after obliterating you like this tonight, but his intensity is already near suffocating.
Instead, one at a time, you slipped your arm from each strap, and gently placed it at your side. The moment you felt the chill air hit you, it was audible that he'd noticed.
Oh sure, he tried to keep quiet. Tried to stop himself from letting out that small, strangled gasp when he watched your nipples pebble. Tried to still his thundering heart when your reactive shiver cut across you, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Tried to stop himself from whispering your name in a thick voice, telling you how beautiful you looked in the warm-glow lighting. At least he managed to temper his hand and hold it back from palming his quickly stiffening cock. Thank God for the small mercies.
His reaction was so much more than you'd been expecting. You'd been nude plenty of times before, like showering together, or that time you'd shared a hot spring once on vacation. Not to mention all the THE SEX. But this??
He had your body memorized at this point, but watching you strip layer by layer as you lost each round was really doing it for him?
The way his voice caught when he said your name, the way the muscles around his ribs stretched and relaxed as he took deep breaths to calm himself, the dilation of his pupils as his eyes trailed you from navel to nose, finally making eye contact after a lengthy pause on your lips.
Zayne might have been winning at kitty cards, but you were starting to get the feeling your luck was about to turn around.
"I forfeit." His normal, rational tone returns, albeit with great strain.
You sputter out a few expletives, dropping the stack of cards you'd started to shuffle. "What?! But we weren't- I was going to- I didn't even get to-!" Too many thoughts at once try tumbling from you, tangling on your tongue. How dare he! I mean sure you won, but a victory of forfeiture was hardly a victory worth bragging about.
Standing from the couch you watch as Zayne extends a large hand towards you, that same hungry look in his eye again that has you feeling small and vulnerable, and reminds you that you're very exposed.
"I've had my fun hunting the hunter. I think it's time I reward her for her win."
ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵉᵇˡᵒᵍˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ᵃᵖᵖʳᵉᶜᶦᵃᵗᵉᵈᵎ ᵀʰᵃⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵒʳ ʳᵉᵃᵈᶦⁿᵍᵎ
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Fluent Freshman - Part 14
PREVIOUS
When Andrew came out of his bedroom to grab a second Allen wrench (he’s working on the frame of the dresser while Neil builds the drawers) he finds quite a few things to irritate him.
1st was the sound of his brother and his cousin arguing loudly. Andrew had been pretty clear that they needed to be quiet that morning but following Andrew’s clearly given guidelines was NEVER either of their strong suits.
2nd was the fact that there was a smell in the air that Andrew was unsure of. It wasn’t a bad smell. It didn’t smell like Nicky had left some component of the breakfast FF had bought to burn. Andrew sniffed the air again and…..lavender? It wasn’t really a smell that existed in the house of three college student boys.
3rd and most irritating was the fact that FF was not where Andrew had left him four hours ago on the couch. Again, Andrew had been pretty clear to both Nicky and Aaron that FF was to be left ALONE. FF hadn’t been able to go to sleep until Andrew had promised that nothing would happen to him while he slept.
He moves towards the kitchen table where Nicky and Aaron are eating some of the sour patch kids that FF had brought back as they argued, “He can’t be serious that Kate and I gross him out more than Andrew and Neil! I’ve seen how fast he walks away when they start getting gross.” He hears Aaron say.
“Aaron I have watched Smithy climb out a second story window because you and Katelyn started making out and he’d have to walk closer to you to go out the door.” Nicky returns. “I think you made him mad when you implied he was grossed out by Andrew and Neil. This is why I get spoon privileges and maybe, if Smithy is feeling forgiving, you can swipe your finger around the bowl.” he points at Aaron.
Andrew hangs back just out of sight.
He knows that FF does not like to be subjected to seeing PDA. A part of him feels…better at the confirmation that it really isn’t because him and Neil are both men. FF has seen them hold hands, kiss chastely, and lean on one another and been unbothered by that it was only when it started getting a little heated that they’d realize that FF had left. FF never makes a scene about it, never scoffs in disgust or squeals in delight he just seems to see where it’s going and will leave if he doesn’t want to see it.
It’s nice.
“Well he’s probably mad at you for waking him up. Andrew said to leave him alone.” Aaron returns.
“He needs breakfast! He also has to take his ulcer meds at the same time so he had to wake up and eat something. He can go back to sleep after!” Nicky defends.
Andrew scowls. Ok. Nicky could live if that was the reason he woke FF up. Still, why the hell is FF in the kitchen and more importantly what bowl and spoon are Aaron and Nicky arguing over?
Andrew tunes his family’s argument out and heads to the kitchen to find FF putting a baking dish into their oven while incense burned on the counter (Andrew now realizes that was the thin box that had been in with the rest of the candy)
He sees the bowl and spoon that Nicky had mentioned and more importantly he can see the chocolate brownie batter on them. Andrew walks over to the bowl and picks it up. He wipes his finger along the inside and…
He closes his eyes for a moment to savor the flavor of the batter. He leans against the counter and his hand brushes against….a five hour energy bottle. Andrew knows he had thrown out the two he had found in FF’s bags before (Ulcer + exhaustion + FF = bad he didn’t need to be a math major like Neil to understand that math.)
Andrew shoves the bottle in his sweatshirt pocket as FF turns around and stares at him passively. FF’s eyebrow’s raise slightly but there’s no other reaction. Andrew considers that, perhaps, FF had wanted to lick the bowl.
He offers the spoon instead knowing it is the better prize but FF is the one who bought the ingredients and mixed together this amazing batter, so he gets first dibs.
“That wouldn’t be good for my stomach.” He declines and Andrew wonders if FF had taken his meds yet or, in his tired state, he’s forgotten to.
“When did you wake up?” Andrew asks.
“Hour ago.”
He should go back to sleep after he takes his meds but also knows that FF probably won’t go to sleep until the brownies are done.
“I’ll make the pie tomorrow.” FF says and Andrew blinks out of his thoughts.
Andrew decides to go get FF’s meds for him. He’ll make it clear to FF later that the guy doesn’t HAVE to keep making amazing desserts as a thanks for being invited to Columbia. If FF just so happens to WANT to keep making amazing desserts then Andrew isn’t going to be the person that stops him.
He shoves the spoon in his mouth and heads out to go find Smith’s bag and his meds.
Aaron and Nicky see him and both let out outraged noises as their quarry had been stolen.
Andrew ignores them and gets to the bag by the couch.
Who the fuck just has 14 bottles of five hour energy sitting in their bag??
***
When Andrew handed FF his ulcer meds he could admit to feeling grateful even if Andrew had obviously gone through his bag to grab it. He swallows it dry because Andrew is standing by the sink and he knows that until Andrew eats a brownie he is not in a position to ask for favors big or small.
(He learned his lesson from that one time with Captain Neil. If he wants to do anything related to Russian he has to be in the safety of his lofted bed under the cover of night and the cover of his…covers while he reads via flashlight. He will not be caught so flat footed again! These are all necessary precautions!)
Andrew seems to very much want for FF to be in prime condition for the hunt. Part of him wonders if he’ll be released amongst other game animals and FF had never felt more jealous of the turkey who got pardoned by the president the day before. Why does that stupid bird get all the luck? Where’s his presidential pardon?
That grateful feeling evaporates into a dust cloud as Andrew lifts a plastic bag, “Stop drinking these.” Andrew hisses, “They’re going to make your ulcer worse.” He points at FF.
“I need them.” He says.
“For what?”
“Five hours of energy at a time.”
“Pull out the brownies and go back to sleep Smith.”
“They still have 10 minutes.”
“Then I’ll pull them out in 10 minutes.”
“There’s a final step that I have to do once they’re fresh out of the oven.”
“What is it.”
“Smith Family Baking secret. I don’t make the rules.” FF gestures towards where the incense continues to burn, “Great Gran’s recipe and methods cannot be shared with non-blood relatives. My mom wasn’t even let in on the secret.”
Thank god
Andrew glowers at him.
Oh God
“It’ll be just 20 more minutes.”
Andrew’s eyes narrow at him.
“They’ll be worth it.” He pleads.
Andrew rolls his eyes.
“Go to sleep when they’re done. Take Nicky’s room.” Andrew commands.
“Take Nicky’s what?” Nicky leans into the kitchen.
“Smith is going to go back to sleep on your bed.”
“Yeah you look like shit Smithy. Don’t worry, unlike Neil and Andrew’s bed mine is all safe.”
Nicky zips out of the kitchen with Andrew hot on his heels. Nicky really is a good friend.
He performs the sacred rites necessary upon the brownies when they come out of the oven and takes a small corner piece to taste test and -
He closes his eyes and clasps his hands together in prayer.
‘Thank you Great Gran.’ He prays earnestly.
‘Remember to wash behind your ears’ he thinks he hears a whisper of grandmotherly advice in return.
That was probably normal.
He extinguishes the incense.
He cuts up the brownies, finds a decently sized plate, and sets the brownies out on the counter before he starts to work on doing the dishes. Yeah Yeah he could have been cleaning while he waited for the brownies to cook! That’s what you always do right? Clean as you go?
Well have you ever been baking brownies that might be the difference between life and death? No? Well then FF is just going to have to stop you right there because he had the oven light on and his eyes GLUED to these fudgey squares.
Who knows what the cousins’ oven would do? He doesn’t know this oven. He and this oven are taking their first whirl together and it could decide to turn on him at any time. They don’t have the brotherhood that he and the oven at his Gran’s house have built over the years! This oven could be one of those ones that maintain their temperature by turning on the broiler! He felt like he could never again recklessly trust an oven after he tried to make crescent rolls in the Viking Oven at his step father’s house and had gotten them back blackened by the broiler.
That oven had been the SINGLE thing he had been excited about during the kitchen remodel which means naturally it was the thing that had betrayed him.
He lets himself think of all the ways he hates the Viking brand as he finishes the dishes and puts everything back to where they belong.
He walks out of the kitchen with the platter of brownies and sets them down on the table where Aaron and Nicky are sat. “Oh my god they smell amazing.” Nicky says and immediately his hand is shooting towards the plate and picking up a corner piece.
FF valiantly resists the urge to slap his and Aaron’s hands away. He needs these to compel Andrew into letting him live.
“Oh wow, those do smell good.” He hears Captain Neil’s voice and when FF turns around Captain Neil and Andrew are both there. It is only in that moment that he realizes that he should have bought some vanilla ice cream to go with these.
Andrew’s love of ice cream was not unknown, probably even infamous. He was the man who, during the summer training, had been so possessive over the soft serve machine in the cafeteria that anyone who wanted any had to ask Captain Neil to get them a bowl or risk being threatened.
He starts towards the door. At this point Target probably isn’t even that bad, probably just some irate people who didn’t come with the rush and are mad they missed out, maybe some officers talking to witnesses on who threw cast the first Wii remote, and workers who will hate him marginally less (unless he gets the same check out person and they remember him (unlikely))
His progress is arrested by a hand grabbing his hoodie.
“Where are you going?”
“I forgot Ice Cream.” And he could get a five hour energy to slam on the way back home.
He then finds himself being pulled down an unfamiliar hallway.
Ah, the anticipation had been killing him more than the fear of his demise. His brownies had not contained the requisite amount of grandmotherly love to save him he had been relying on extract (Great Gran’s spirit guiding his hands) instead of organic (he does not have grandchildren or children for that matter)
Maybe ice cream would have been the deciding factor? He’ll never know.
He closes his eyes and lets himself be dragged. He’s too tired to fight.
A door opens, and he finds himself sat on a bed.
Weird.
“You are falling asleep standing up. Go back to sleep. I’ll leave you at Eden’s if you fall asleep in the booth.” Andrew threatens.
What.
FF knows about Eden’s.
He has heard about it from Nicky trying to get him to agree to go but he’s pretty sure it’d be like introducing an Amazon rainforest frog to the Sahara desert in terms of survivability for him.
“We’re going to Eden’s tonight?” He manages to ask.
Andrew raises an eyebrow at him but answers, “Yes.”
“I’m not really interested in clubs. I don’t drink out in public or dance.”
“Neither does Neil. I just drink. We can stay in the booth.”
“I don’t want to interrupt your time with Captain Neil.”
“It’s fine, neither of us hate spending time with you.”
“I don’t have clothes for a place like that.”
“Nicky grabbed some for you. You’re coming tonight. Go to sleep.”
With that Andrew pulls Nicky’s curtains close, shuts off the light, and closes the door.
FF, always very much like a bird when placed into a suddenly dark environment, starts to feel some of the exceptional sleepiness that he’d been pushing off through sheer manic desperation to earn another day of life.
He lays down in Nicky’s bed and is tired enough that he can ignore the sheer amount of body glitter on the sheets (does Nicky excrete it like sweat??) and starts to let himself drift off to sleep.
Eden’s might be something completely out of his wheelhouse but-
A conversation with Nicky from when he’d been trying to get FF to go comes into his mind and he sits straight up in bed as Nicky’s words roll around in his head like stale hotdogs at a gas station.
“Eden’s is cool, even though there’s some sick shit in the basement.”
Eden’s is a Secondary Location with a BASEMENT.
MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU
NEXT
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