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simpjaes · 3 months

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renaissance man (p. js)

Taking note of the strangers you see day to day isn’t something you’d normally do. The only reason today is different is because the guy who made small talk as he rang you up for your intimate items was the same guy who showed up catering for your family reunion. or the one where jay is a dildo salesman, a caterer, a self-titled mechanic, and also your ride home. he is not an expert in any of his jobs, but he sure is an expert in wit and well, other things.

minors dni!! | pls reblog to show your support!

WORDCOUNT― 14.6k

PAIRING― park jongseong x afab reader

CONTENT― fluffy comfort smut, strangers to lovers like immediately, you buy a monster sized dildo, blatant talking of masturbation and toys, smut, cliche blooming an attachment to someone after (1) fuckening.

!!ATTENTION!!― read this before? that’s because I run two blogs and like to re-vamp fics i’ve previously written for other groups! [@/ncteez is likely where you’ve read it from. THAT IS ME!!!]

smut tags under cut::

smut tags― it’s kind of fluffy im so sorry i just have feelings for him, average cock size jay!!!![i am not of this belief, i think his cock is fat and huge], he is very much a service top, making out, hand holding, caressing, grinding, finger fucking, titty worship, unprotected sex, sweet talking as a form of dirty talk, missionary bc i refuse to pretend he wouldn’t want that, back scratches (sexual)

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Never have you been put in the position to make small talk about the sex toys you place on a counter to purchase. Then again, you guess it’s part of the job description that most people ignore or aren’t privy to actually doing.

Never have you been informed of the wide variety of lubricants, additional toy-cleaners, or the bigger and smaller alternatives to your chosen toy. You don’t show discomfort though, because it’s not uncomfortable. Sex is normal, masturbation is more normal, and the man in front of you appears to be normal too.

“There’s twelve different color variants if you prefer something less fleshy.” The man says, standing at the counter with some sort of a permanent pout on his lips.

“I’m fine, if you could just ring me up now I can get out of your hair.” You respond, glancing at the time on your phone and wondering how you got stuck with the only employee who actually does his job here.

“Are you sure you don’t want any lubricant?” The man adds, gazing at the size of your toy and then looking you up and down as if you clearly wouldn’t be able to handle your chosen toy without help.

The man with no name tag appears to be blissfully unaware of his invasiveness with that question as you tilt your head with a raised brow. Shocked at the very question, it’s actually quite laughable that he’s so monotone with the offensive comment. You imagine he’s done this for so long that he must be a manager trying to get the day over with, going through the steps in a bored mood with little to no regard as to how he must sound to strangers buying their first or twentieth dildo.

With your assumption that he doesn’t exactly care about the level of wet your vagina is when you use this toy, you respond. “I think I know my body well enough and I already have lube, but thanks.”

He nods, not even sparing you much of a glance before giving you a total and bagging your item.

Now, despite Jay’s lack of interest toward the purchase of toys, he finds it comical that he’s grown numb to the very fact that he knows what everyone in this town’s kinks are after they step out of the shop’s door. Someone’s gotta do this job and keep those secrets…he likes to think he fits the bill perfectly.

Lively as he may be outside of this shop, each job comes with a personality and this one calls for one of disinterest in your product but interest in the sale. He’s not one to lie to himself though, many times a pretty girl has marched in and bought toys far bigger than any man and he does tend to let his mind wander about it from time to time. When he first started this job, bright eyed and bushy-tailed, he found it hard to navigate a single sale without a flush of tints crossing his cheeks and ears. Now, he’s become a veteran at keeping his dick locked in place if he were to feel some type of way about a purchase and the one purchasing.

Shy as he was when he started, it’s all lost now as he handles dicks and dongs, pocket pussies and anal plugs, even whips and chains.

Shy. That’s definitely a word and surprisingly one that can describe him when he’s not on schedule within these walls of alien dicks and lime flavored lube to match the grotesque green color. At his other job, because he works two, he takes the praise of being the charming yet timid man who shows up with pans of food for events.

The guests seem to love him and many times during weddings and company parties he has been offered phone numbers or asked for one simply because he appears to be that of a friendly face with a kind sense of being. Someone you’d wanna bring home to mom, some might say.

It’s a stark contrast of jobs, and somehow he’s managed to dodge knowing many of the people coming into his night job to shop for ways to fuck themselves. The rare time it had happened, he was thankful to have another person in the shop to ring them up. Keeping up with two jobs is hard, and keeping up with two personalities is even harder.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You hadn't thought of that guy from the sex shop even once until he showed his face at your family reunion.

He noticed you before you managed to realize it was him though. Stealing looks in your direction as you chat with little cousins and elder aunts and uncles, mostly to double check in his brain if you’re really the girl who showed up and nonchalantly bought the newest dildo in stock. The fleshy colored one with rotating beads and a g-spot stimulator button. You know, the really fucking huge one.

Upon meeting his eye again for the first time, he could tell it really is you, simply because of the way you furrow your brow as you recognize him.

Jay couldn’t help but smirk. He knew that eventually someone at an event would recognize him as their local sex-shop manager, he’s actually shocked it doesn’t happen more often. At least it’s you though, a woman who looks near his age and clearly has a very healthy relationship with her sexuality. So much so that you weren’t shy or nervous in buying the toy from him. Because it’s honestly pretty common to see someone nervous or uncomfortable while buying items far less telling than the one you bought.

His smirk doesn’t go unnoticed by you before you look away from him and focus your attention back to your family and by the time he’s prepared the food and is standing aside to explain what ingredients the dishes have, you’re walking up with your empty plate and an awkward glance.

He follows you down the line of dishes, seemingly more interested in you than anyone else. You could argue it’s just an attempt to make you feel embarrassed, or perhaps even an attempt to ask you not to snitch on where else he works to make his money.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” You ask, a knowing look telling him that you’re already very aware of that ‘somewhere’ you know him from.

His pursed lips and snide hidden laugh at you is one thing, but the way he whispers to you over a pan of potato casserole is another.

“I think you know who I am.” He says, crossing his arms as he leans back again with a flicker of a crooked grin.

You leave it at that, looking him in the eye curiously and for some reason, smiling back at the strange second encounter with a man who appears to have a name tag now.

“Thanks, Jay. See you around.”

Heading away from the tables of food and toward the table that contains all of your favorite cousins, you are immediately bombarded with a raised brow from one of them. Ah, nosy.

“What was that about?” One of them leans over to ask, glancing at the man who is still overseeing the table of food and maintaining perfect temperatures. She doesn’t quite catch the way Jay’s eyes flicker back to you, over and over again, repeatedly.

“Huh? He was just telling me what was in the potatoes.”

She takes your answer as truth without issue, and the conversation falls away and into something else. College life, job life, family life.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Okay so, you’re trying to hear yourself out here. Are you somehow curious and interested in speaking with Jay? Yeah. Do you know why? Also yes. For one, he just sold you a fucking interesting sex toy last weekend in the most uncomfortable way possible, and now he’s here at your family reunion to remind you of what you do in your apartment when you’re alone.

His personality seems different this time too. He wasn’t monotone, he was snide with you about knowing who you are. He probably thinks its funny that he ended up at your family reunion over any other event.

So yeah, maybe you find yourself going up to the table for seconds even though you’re no longer hungry. Maybe you definitely wait until no one else is at the table and he appears to be tidying up the space and wiping up spills before speaking to him again.

“Just how many jobs do you have?” You ask in a sarcastic tone when you reach him, the table between the two of you creating a comfortable distance to poke and prod.

He jumps only slightly at your presence because he didn’t notice you walking up. The brief break he’s taken from stealing glances so he could actually do his jobs appears to be the time you feel the need to finally approach. Still, he’s smiling again, looking at you up and down.

“Plenty. How much lube do you have left?” He answers before shooting back his own question and getting right to the point.

You freeze in shock at his question, reminding yourself that his monotone voice from the late dildo purchase is no more and he now comes across as vibrant and charming to you. You check him out for a moment, taking mental notes of what may not or may not be to like about him. You can’t tell if it’s good news or bad news that you’re not finding anything to raise any red flags.

He’s bold, confidence, charming, clearly has a decent work ethic–

“I can’t imagine you have much left, that thing was a fucking monster. We have tons in stock if you wanna–” He pauses to cover his mouth, forgetting that he’s supposed to be timid and gentle during his day job. He’s not supposed to be himself.

You find yourself laughing though, leaning over the table and holding out your empty plate. Mostly just to get in closer to him without alerting your family of a new future husband or something.

“Why are you so interested in my ‘fucking monster”’ dildos anyway?” You narrow your eyes.

He pauses, easing up at the way you’re just as cheeky and playful as he is, despite being surrounded by your family. It’s mildly inappropriate, but it’s making his shift go by quickly. You’re making his shift enjoyable today, so he continues.

“I think anyone would be interested, with all things considered.” He checks you out again with a brief pause, knowing the size of that dildo you bought by heart, and fully aware that it probably ripped you in half if you really managed to put that thing anywhere inside of you. “Correction, they should be worried.”

“You’re different from before,” you comment, both of you now blatantly staring down each other. “I like this version of you more.”

Something inside of him feels giddy at that. Not to be cliche but he wonders if this is what it’s like to instantly have a crush on someone. Again, he’s not one to lie to himself. You’re pretty and you appear to be confident. Confident enough to take time from your family reunion to have a discussion about your plastic cock intake anyway.

“Maybe I’ll see you again sometime then.” He puts a hand forward, inviting you to shake it but you simply stare it down instead.

“Yeah, maybe you will.” You smile, slapping his hand as if you’re low fiving him before swirling around and walking away thinking hard about the fact that…yeah, he might actually see you sooner than he thinks.

Honestly, maybe within the next day or two because he was kind of right to ask about how much lube you have left, but it’s not like you’d answer that truthfully if at all. You might be running out after just two uses. He was right again about it being a fucking monster, because well, yeah. Maybe you’ll pop in and shop for bulk lube instead of rejecting his up-sale this time.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Unfortunately for you upon the reunion coming to an end, you get into your car and of course it doesn’t start. You drop your head to the steering wheel in a sigh and annoyed grunt.

The last thing you need is your father driving you home because he will lecture you about your car and how it’s got to be some fault of your own for it to not start. And you know, yeah maybe it was your fault. Why were your lights turned on during a sunny Sunday afternoon? Fuck if you know. Why were they left on for the entire nine hours you’ve been here at your parent’s house? You refuse to answer your own question.

And just as you go to accept your defeat, preparing to head back inside and take the walk of shame ten minutes after saying your goodbyes, a savior appears.

That savior is none other than Jay, walking up with his stiff button down shirt partially unbuttoned, hair now disheveled as he must have ruffled it up after the day of work. He watched you from his catering van for just a few minutes before finally getting out to offer his expertise.

“The battery is dead.” He smiles, slapping both palms on your hood and leaning to look at you through the windshield.

“Smart man, can you un-dead my battery before my dad comes out?”

Jay shakes his head apologetically.

“I already checked the van for the cables, could be a write up on my part for not checking before leaving. We are supposed to have all sorts of shit to prevent breakdowns on a job. Not today though, apparently.” He scratches the back of his neck as he walks to your opened car door.

“If you can hang tight for like ten minutes I can swing by after dropping the van off.”

Your eyes plead with him. You’d prefer this, yes. If he’s willing to help, you’re willing to accept.

“You sure I’m not too out of the way for you to do that?”

He shakes his head nonchalantly, waving you off as he leans into your car to pull your keys out of the ignition. He smells like food, obviously he does, but there’s a scent of something else on him that’s far more attractive. The dull scent of cologne that matches him all too well.

“Don’t try to turn it on anymore if you don’t want your dad coming out.” He laughs. “I’m sure he would help you but if you’d rather I help you, I am more than happy to do it.”

He’s teasing. His little crush pushes him to want to help you, but he’s gonna play it off as casually as possible.

“I’ll hang out here. My dad would lecture the fuck out of me.”

Jay nods, backing away and heading back to his van to fulfill his offer.

On another note, you’re shocked that your father didn’t hear the commotion, and even more shocked that he didn’t step outside once since the reunion ended. He must have been tired, and you know him, he sleeps like a rock and probably already hit the sack without even cleaning up the yard.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Oh, it’s dead dead.” Jay looks at you apologetically, peeking his head out from the side of your hood and through your window.

“Define dead dead.” You comment, taking your keys out of the ignition with a huff.

“Like, you need a new battery. This one is done for.”

You sigh loudly, knowing that now you’ll have to go ask your parents for a ride home. Knowing that your dad is going to add more to his lectures with each day your car is sitting in this driveway. This is so fucking annoying. At least you work from home though, so it’s not like you’re gonna lose your job over this or anything.

Jay unhooks the cables and turns off his car, then stands there and watches you for a moment. You look frustrated and annoyed, and it’s very much like him to offer more help.

Of course it is.

“Would it be too forward to ask if you need a ride home?”

You look at him confused, tilting your head and studying his body language much like before. You’re not one to decline someone making your life a little bit easier, and he is interesting to talk to. You nod slowly, then pause.

“You’ve worked all day, don’t waste your off-time helping me out.”

“I’m already wasting my off time on you though, might as well let me drive you home too?”

You stare at him.

“Okay.”

The awkward silence sets in shortly after you seat yourself in his car. You fill that silence with small sarcastic comments about said car though, and soon it becomes easy to be in the space with him.

“Where did this sticker come from?” You ask, poking your finger into a sticker with its edges rolled from the summer heat, probably.

“Ex girlfriend, I couldn’t get it off without it leaving a residue so I’m just letting the sun do its job and melt it off.”

“Oh, harsh.” You laugh, wanting to prod further. “Why’d you break up?”

Jay pauses, you can tell by the way his foot lets up from the gas momentarily that he wasn’t expecting you to ask that. Then again, he’s said some weird shit to you too, so you figure it’s not an end-all question.

“Was that too forward to ask?”

“Not at all, just wasn’t expecting it,” He shakes his head with a small smile, nearly reaching his hand from the wheel to pat your leg in reassurance. He holds back, wondering why the fuck that urge felt so normal for him to do. “It’s been like a year, so I’m over it and stuff. She just thought I worked too much and didn’t spend enough time with her.”

“Ouch, even harsher.” You smile in reassurance to him, also feeling it normal to want to do that for some reason. “Her loss, I mean, discounted dildos and food? Huge loss.”

He laughs at your comments, briefly looking over at you once he stops at a red light. Your eyes are shining with life, with interest even. At that moment, he feels something between the two of you. Which is quite strange considering this is your first time officially meeting him outside of his working hours. He can’t help the way his face softens though, it happens against his will, honestly, it does.

“You’re kind of cute,” You blurt, breaking eye contact with him and shifting in your seat. “and fun to hang out with.”

“Hang out?” He laughs at you, eyes now adjusting back to the road and lowering his speed just to have a bit more time with you. “This is hardly a hang-out, but if you’re interested, I’m more than willing to check my schedule to see when I’m free next.”

You feel confidence raise up in your chest, bubbling to be free in the form of a question likely too bold to actually consider.

“You’re free right now…right?” You comment quietly, glancing at him.

“Hm?” He asks, tightening his grip on the steering wheel and feeling your eyes on him. He heard you, but he wouldn’t mind hearing you repeat it.

“I said, you’re free right now.” You repeat, this time with more confidence. “Would it be too forward to ask if –”

“Nothing is too forward to ask, I literally sold you a dildo.”

You pause in shock, all thoughts leaving your head.

“Damn, alright,” You laugh, feeling kind of warm inside at how his forwardness matches your own. “If you’re free right now, we could hang out right now.”

How lucky for both of you. He’s actually not catering tomorrow and only has to be at work at the good ol’ sex shop in the evening.

“Alright,” He nods, glancing over to you. “Kind of fucked up we are hanging out after I met your entire family and still haven’t gotten a name from you yet though, wouldn’t you think?”

Oh fuck, he’s right.

“I’m sure you heard the kids yelling it all day. Don’t be dramatic.”

He laughs, already in love with the idea of spending more time with you.

And you hear him echo your name, asking where it is that you’d like to go.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

If your parents were to ask why you’re walking through your apartment building with the caterer following behind you, you’d have no excuse. Then again, as an adult, you don’t think you need one. It’s strange despite how open and casual you are with making friends though, because you never just invite strangers to your place for friendship. At least, not without hanging out a few times first.

You guess it’s not super awkward because it’s true that he already knows things about you that your family doesn’t. Such as, the things you penetrate yourself with when you’re alone. It’s a major ice breaker, and something that makes the friendship with him come easy even after barely talking to the guy.

The few words you have shared have been easy and fun, so it’s only natural that if your instinct is to want to be around him a little longer, you’d invite him in right? You weren’t really expecting him to accept your answer to his question.

“Where to then?”

You thought for a moment when he asked that. You don’t go to clubs or bars anymore, most places would have been closing within the hour, and it’s not like you didn’t eat to peak fullness during the family reunion so having a late dinner with him was out of the question too. You answered him so easily, and he accepted in a way that seemed just as natural to him.

“We could just hang out at my place, I’ve got plenty of streaming services, a gaming system, and wine.”

“Sounds good.”

It was so easy to become friends with him, and now with him following you up to your apartment, the typical awkwardness that should come with this type of thing isn’t swarming your mind at all. He’s even making small talk about the building itself after parking in your parking spot.

“This building is way nicer than mine, you got a door code and everything just to get in.”

“Wasn’t always like this. Being a single woman in a city like this calls for safety measures though.”

A little box in his head checks out. He didn’t even have to ask if you’re single, because he already assumed you were with the way you so easily invited him over. And in all fairness, you’ve been trying to find a reason to slip in your relationship status to him.

By the time you get to your door with him, he’s polite when he walks in and takes off his shoes. Polite in the way he looks around and studies your space, even polite in the way he walks into the living room and invites himself onto your couch and grabs your remote.

“I was going to say make yourself comfortable but–”

“Well, would you prefer I sit on your floor?” He shoots back with a sarcastic tone in his voice. “Would you prefer I start digging through your cabinets for snacks? Would you prefer–”

“You’re so much more talkative when I’m not trying to buy something from you.” You comment with a laugh, dipping into the kitchen for two glasses and that cheap bottle of wine.

“Speaking of, do you actually use that thing and like it? I mean, I see some weird purchases but that specific one is super popular with the fetish groups.”

For the first time, you feel heat rise to your cheeks. You should have known that the sex toy would be a point of conversation, considering the first time you ever met was buying it.

“Yes, I use it. I’m surprised you find it shocking considering it’s literally your job to know what people like in terms of getting off.”

He smiles at that, because you’re damn right he knows. Most of the time he would prefer not to know, but he always did wonder if, on the off chance, he ended up hooking up with a customer he’d have some prior knowledge of how they like it based on toys alone.

“You know, normally people don’t buy toys on a Monday at nine in the morning.”

“I buy toys at nine in the morning on a Monday,” You chuckle, carrying the two glasses and wine into the living room and plopping down next to him. “Why does that matter? I’m sure you make your quotas even on the slow days considering how hard you were trying to up-sell me.”

He shrugs as he watches you pour him a glass.

“It’s easy to up-sell when you know people’s kinks after a few purchases. I do that to everyone just to gauge what they need so if they come back I can make more offers.”

“A true salesman.” You laugh with a pitied voice. “What would you say my kink is?”

He studies you, looking you up and down without shame and thinking hard about your single purchase.

“Well, considering that specific item is, again, usually looked at by a specific type of person or couple, I’d say–”

“Wrong.” You interrupt before he even tries to make a guess. “I don’t have a kink, I just have a really high sex drive.”

You take a sip at his silence of being beaten to the punch, and then he takes his own thoughtful sip.

“Okay then, What do you think my kink is?” He asks slyly, cup still against his lips as he sips again.

“Wha–” You narrow your eyes at him, trying not to stare at him for too long because goddamn is he handsome. “Hell if I know, you probably don’t even have sex after being in a hyper-sexualized space like that for hours on end.”

“Wrong.” He pokes his tongue into his cheek and looks away from you with another casual chuckle.

“Are you telling me you have a pocket pussy or like, a buttplug or something?”

“Three pocket pussies, actually.”

You don’t know why you’re shocked. For some reason his sex toys becoming the focus makes you feel more shy than your own being the focus.

“I bet you named them.”

“Pocket 1, Pocket 2, and Jessica.”

“Jessica?” You raise a brow despite the sarcastic banter, wondering if maybe that’s based on his ex girlfriend or something.

He nods in a matter-of-fact tone with a proud smile.

You feel comfortable around him, never having a friend who openly talks to you about these things without any type of awkwardness. It’s the fact that he’s a man too. Usually they think with their dicks and he seems to have no qualms in admitting that it’s something he may do from time to time too.

You imagine he needs this type of personality to work such a job though, being casual about sex can be so difficult for your average joe because for some reason, it is embarrassing. It’s hard to talk about even to sex-shop employees. You like to think he’s probably someone who makes others feel comfortable about their sexual habits though, because you feel comfortable.

“I’m lying by the way.” He cuts through your thoughts, “I only have two.”

You nod energetically with a laugh.

“Variety is good.” You continue, not mentioning the array of toys you have stashed away.

“Yeah, I think experimenting with different things is good. I only really liked the two I kept though, I guess.”

“And yet, you’re shocked about my single dildo purchase without knowing of my other items of interest? I could have just been trying something new too, y’know.”

Another sip of wine, and another glance away from him because you were looking a little too fondly at that little scar on his nose, the birth mark on his neck, the way his lips crease when he swallows his drink and– yeah, you definitely glance away.

“No one buys that as a first time experience.” He comments, tapping the cup against his lips and looking at you.

You’re a little stunned by him, never having met a man so open to speaking like this, with a woman he barely knows no less.

“Okay, enough about my dildo. I actually have a question about something you might have in stock but I’ve kind of been too embarrassed to ask until now.”

He nods, his personality shifting only slightly into that as the manager of the sex-shop.

“Oh? Embarrassed? Since when?” He jokes at first. “What is it then?”

“Do you guys have like,” you pause, unsure of why you’re even trying to ask. Again, it’s not like masturbation is embarrassing, nor is the purchasing of toys. Asking for a specific item is a bit too intimate to you though, seeing as how you usually just buy those things online. “Okay hear me out.”

“Tentacles? Furry buttplugs with tails attached? Bondage rope? Paddles?”

“No…” You pause at his spewing of different types of toys. “I know you have all of that.”

He pauses, studying the way you make yourself a bit smaller compared to just minutes before.

“Do you guys have sex dolls for women? You know, like, just a doll with a very normal dick?”

Jay fucking snorts. How mundane.

Unfortunately for you though, Nope.

“Nah, the owner tries to cater more towards men and fetish stuff. We’ve got fem tantaly dolls and all sorts of blow up dolls but he’s never brought in just like, a torso with a cock, if that’s what you’re asking.”

You shrug.

“Guess sticking it to the wall is all I can do for now then. But like,” You pause, realizing that you’re actually going into detail at this point, which might be a little uncomfortable for him? Maybe? “It’s really annoying to have it sticking to the floor, and you’re like, riding it and it just pops off and stabs your thigh slipping out mid-orgasm.”

He snorts again, that pretty smile you’ve seen time and time again echoing the most attractive laugh you think you’ve heard in a long time. This time, his smile doesn’t fade as the seconds pass, no. He’s unable to stop laughing at the image of whatever orgasm instilled the frustration in you to even mention that happening. He tries to stifle his laughter with the last sip of his wine before choking it down and pushing his glass at you for more.

“Noted,” He snorts, nodding his head and almost hiding his face from you. “I’ll tell the boss we need male sex dolls so the women don’t get dick-stabbed where they don’t need it mid orgasm.”

You glare.

“Wait, no, because it actually hurts.” You frown at him. “I just wish your shop catered a little more to women who just wanna ride a dick without the dangers of riding said dick.”

“Maybe you should slow down next time so the full force of your–” He pauses, realizing how sexual the image in his head is of you right now. “Um…” He trails off uncomfortably, unintentionally adjusting himself in his jeans by spreading his legs slightly against your couch.

“Okay, wait. I’m sorry, is this conversation too much right now?” You ask, looking him up and down and giving him a new glass of wine. “You’re blushing.”

He tries to play it off.

“As if you could make me blush.” He laughs at you, downing half of his glass in one go. “To make up for our lack of product though, and if you don’t tell anyone, I’ll give you a discount on your next purchase just for embarrassing yourself telling me that.”

“Oh, I was supposed to be embarrassed?” You counter, knowing that all you need to do is point out that he got flustered to shut him up. You opt not to because still, the two of you barely know each other. Instead, you opt to laugh along with him, letting your gaze fall back to studying all of those features he has that you didn’t quite notice before.

While you did notice he was handsome before, it’s not like you paid that thought any mind. There are a lot of handsome men out and about after all. It only starts to matter when they allow you to get close enough to appreciate it more. Not to mention, in your experience at various sex shops, most employees of them are mundane and nonchalant. Some are strange old men, or cool old women. Jay though? Jay.

Hmm…how to explain him?

With his messy hair that covers his eyes every time he whips his head toward you in a laugh, with his sharp jawed smile and pretty eyes. The little marks and celestial kisses against his skin that shows you of a life he’s been living. He feels…warm. Like everything about him looks comforting, smells comforting, sounds comforting. And now, even compared to when you met him at the shop, even at the reunion just this afternoon…he’s so much more handsome in this moment.

Learning his personality, hearing his voice say your name, having him take the time to not only help you but befriend you?

His shoulders are broad, and he’s just… you don’t even know how to explain to yourself the attraction you have toward him at this moment. Handsome is one thing, and you would have continued calling him that if it weren’t for the fact that he’s laughing with you on your couch about a ruined orgasm.

“You know, Jay,” You start, looking into your glass and swirling the liquid inside, then you look up again and make eye contact. “I’m really not usually this forward but like,”

His brain stops for a moment at the serious tone in your voice, his expression softens and you can tell he’s listening.

“I know masturbation and stuff is normal, and like, you see and talk about these things all the time but I never really talk about it to other people, they always get weird about it.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true. I can’t say this is the most normal hang out I've ever had. Usually we talk about our favorite movies or books or something.”

You wave him off.

“Yeah, that’s a good point. We could talk about our favorite movies but I find myself, um–” You stop for a second.

“Is talking about it making you realize that it’s uncomfortable?”

“No, the opposite actually.” You laugh, now actually feeling embarrassed. “I keep thinking about you mentioning the other things you’ve bought and experimented with.”

“Oh? You’re curious?” He laughs, now feeling a bit shy himself because he’s pretty sure that’s you asking him to put images in your head. “I mean I could go into detail but it actually might be too-telling right now.”

You nod, unsure of why you even suggested.

“Maybe next time?” You change the subject with a smile, one that does seem slightly disappointed.

“There’s a next time?” He smiles, setting his glass down on your table and shifting toward you.

“I don’t see why not? I’m having fun, plus you offered me a discount.”

He nods, looking around the room and checking the time.

“I should probably head out then? We’ve both had a long day.”

You nod back to him, feeling a bit sad.

“When are you free next?” You ask, grabbing your phone in a way that seems a bit too excited. “Can you give me your number?”

He obliges, exchanging phone numbers and promising to contact you with his next free day or night to hang out. Just as he goes to leave though, for some reason both of you feel as though the satisfaction of this hang out wasn’t reaching full potential.

“Hey, um,” He stops before he puts his shoes back on. “Would it be too forward to say I’m not tired and wouldn’t mind–”

“Staying for a bit longer?” You finish his sentence for him, patting the couch as if that was also on your mind.

He doesn’t even respond, and instead makes his way back onto the couch where the cushion is still warm, unable to help the fluttering feeling in his chest.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It's almost two in the morning by the time he offers to leave again, and yet, he stays at your clear disappointment of the offer. Another hour later, the two of you are sitting contently and pretending to watch some shitty tv show in comfortable silence.

“We should say something.” He blurts, mid episode.

“What do you mean?”

He turns toward you.

“We should talk about this.” He motions at the space between the two of you.

You’re silent while you try to build up the confidence to meet him half-way again.

“You can correct me if you’re not interested but I actually really would like it if you kissed me or something.” He adds as you continue to process what he seems to be getting at.

You’re taken aback by his forwardness for some reason, and instantly you knew he didn’t communicate this earlier for your own sake. Thankfully, you’ve tried to make it easy for him to read you and he ate it up like his favorite meal. The content feeling between the two of you was buzzing up to this point. Very loudly in your brain where you were thinking of how to kiss him before the night is up. Even as just a “thank you” if he were to turn away from it.

“Oh yeah?” You ask, tilting your head and seeing him scoot closer. “Kiss you, or something?”

He nods his head, looking at you without much issue and searching for a reaction.

“Are you interested in me like that, in any way?” He asks, looking for confirmation.

“Oh, most definitely.”

The smile that spreads across his face is one that you can argue will be unforgettable. It’s an expression you hope to bring to every person in your life, one that seems to express nothing but relief, excitement, and maybe even a hint of bashfulness.

“You thought I'd invite you inside without being interested?” You smile at him, feeling a little bit fuzzy in the head at the admittance.

“I thought you were just being nice, or like, just interested in friendship,” He rambles on, stopping himself short to give more context to that statement. “I mean, it would be fine if this was all for friendship and I'm happy with that too but I can admit to coming into your apartment with maybe, uh, a small crush.”

“I can admit to inviting you in with a small crush, maybe.”

“Maybe.”

“Are we being too forward?” You ask, emphasizing the repetitive way that word seems to appear. “Even though you’re in my apartment at an ungodly hour and both of us are giving any and every excuse to keep you here?”

He smiles this time in a way that appears to be self-soothing, and you can imagine you are too. It’s always nerve-wracking to walk on eggshells with another person, the threat of wondering if you'll fall alone or fall with them into a new version of partnership.

You don’t think about the lack of knowing him past a purchase, a quick conversation at a family reunion, or the past several hours he’s huddled up with you on this couch. You simply don’t think it’s strange at this point. After all, you’ve met people online and invited them over without much more than a name, age, and quick conversation about what they want sexually. How is this worse? How is this strange?

“You’re right. Maybe we should stop being so polite when the reality of it is that I’ve been imagining what you’ve done with that toy since the day you bought it.”

Okay, maybe that was too forward but all is lost now as your image of him changes drastically within the mere seconds it took him to say that, not in a bad way either. Again, of course he’s comfortable admitting it, the dude stares at dicks and holes all day. But now he’s staring at you, and talking directly to you.

Your silence makes him shift a bit, shaking his head apologetically.

“Found the boundary, got it.” He shames himself with a timid voice, looking away from you and back to the tv with a hint of embarrassment. “I’m not lying though.” He adds after a few more minutes of your silence.

“Not much of a boundary if I admit that I was blatantly asking you earlier what you’ve done to experiment with your toys.”

“Aha! So I was right in thinking you were straight up asking for mind-porn of me?!” He feels instantly comfortable again, turning his entire body toward you as he folds up one of his legs to sit on with a little bounce.

“Maybe, but what do you mean you’ve been imagining since I bought it? You barely made eye contact with me that day.”

“Oh, I was checking you out the whole time you shopped. Imagine my face when I knew exactly what toy you were reaching for.”

You shove him by the shoulder with a laugh, realizing that this is the first bodily contact you’ve ever had with him, but he actually leans into your shove rather than out of it. Meaning, he barely budges.

“If I looked you in the eye at the register, you would have thought I was some pervert.”

“You are a pervert. You said it had, what? Twelve other colors?”

He shrugs with a pained smile at how cringe he must have sounded to you.

“You seemed more like a sparkly pink girl rather than a normal flesh tone girl. Then again, this was before I knew you were looking for a literal male sex doll for super normal pretend-sex.”

You shove him again, your laugh coming out more forced now at the way he jokes with you. Once again, he doesn’t budge. In fact, he’s leaning in closer.

“Now hold on, you didn’t mention anything about one having glitter in it.” You joke, wiggling your brows.

“You trying to fuck a man or a magic unicorn?” He laughs yet again, all of it coming out more forced as the two of you drag out information just to hear the dirty words in a voice you’re only just realizing you like far too much.

“A man.” You dead-pan, this time not laughing, looking him dead in the eye and trying to pretend you don’t notice how close the two of you have gotten. “Why else would I go for more human skin tones?”

“Fuck if I know, I haven’t met a single man who has vibration settings or rolling beads though.”

You snort.

“Shame…but also, why do you think I’m on the hunt for the most mundane sex toy a woman can buy now? The rolling beads almost had me passing out.”

“Was it too much?” He asks seriously, hoping to god it was.

“A little bit, yeah.”

“I can imagine you want something to feel real after that.”

For some reason, his words hit you straight in the gut. Your stomach drops as your attraction heightens, and suddenly you’re just staring at him as you respond.

“I can imagine so, yeah.”

He stares back, almost no space between the two of you as the banter only brought you both mentally and physically as close as possible without becoming twisted together.

“When was the last time you felt something real?” He asks against his better judgment, wondering if you’re on the same page with him. Wondering if all this banter was leading to somewhere or nowhere. Because he could have sworn admitting to wanting you to kiss him, and you’ve yet to do so.

“A month and a half.” You respond dryly, suddenly needing something to drink.

He glances down at your neck when you swallow around your words, then stares at your lips before breathing in a sigh. One that was supposed to relieve the tension in this moment, but only building it more because he knows you see him do it. He knows you see him wet his bottom lip too.

“Are you going to kiss me, or are you planning to wait another month and a half to get what you want?” He continues on his streak of boldness as if to distract you from noticing the sexual tension, feeling his heart skip beats at the intensity of the moment.

“It’s not like we have anything better to do.” You start, leaning in and still looking straight into his eyes.

“Are you suggesting that I’m boring?” He narrows his eyes as he feels your breath against his lips, still sweet from the wine that did close to nothing in terms of altering the brain. The two of you are totally planted into reality, if anything, a little drunk on the other.

“Not at all.” You adjust your words from earlier, there, hovering just over his lips. “I’m just saying that nothing is more interesting than kissing you right now.”

Oh, the fluttering in his belly is so fucking intense right now. No eighteen inch alien tentacle dildo on a shelf could scare him as much as you do at this moment. Intimidatingly outspoken and aware of your wants and needs. His eyelashes flutter just like his stomach does, closing them slowly until he can feel your lips on his.

Your stomach, on the other hand, has been doing flips since the first instance he admitted to wanting to stay. All of the tension, all of the comfortable silence, all of the glances, the smiles, the laughing, all of it was leading up to this. The moment your lips hit his, they feel much like you imagined they would.

Soft, plush, warm. The thin lipped grins he’s given you all day now laying flat against your own lips, no longer grinning, now just wanting. And he’s gentle, so fucking gentle with it. Never has a man asked you to kiss him. Usually they close the gap to try and swoon you. It appears you’re both being swooned by each other at the moment though, and his soft kiss only pulls back momentarily before he leans forward, closer.

The third touch, save for you shoving him, his lips on yours, and now…his hand on your cheek. Caressing so gently as he deepens the kiss with ease. The heat rises up and through your skin at the simple touch. You think he must feel it with the way he chuckles into the kiss and starts peppering them against your lips over and over again. A split second between each lay of his lips, and then another solid kiss. One where you finally start moving yours too.

It’s slow and languid in the way he kisses you like this, barely even darting his tongue out but focusing more on your cheek against his palm. He can feel your jaw move as you kiss and can’t help but love what’s happening, and when you’re the one to lick against his lower lip, he falls in so easily.

That little movement from you, that little feeling of your tongue experimentally prodding his lips open releases the last bit of tension holding him back. He pulls back to look at you and you’re not backing down even slightly.

“Does this feel more real for you?” He asks in a snide way, swiping your bottom lip with his thumb of the glistening saliva before tilting his head with a smile.

You very nearly roll your eyes at him for that. And by very nearly, you do roll your eyes at him and can’t help but smile yet again.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” He says, palm still against your cheek, tips of his fingers toying with the baby hairs on your hair-line. “because I can imagine that the toy couldn’t ki-”

You shoot forward to kiss him again, only just realizing how awkward the positioning is considering neither of you were probably expecting more than a first kiss.

He laughs into it, knowing you were silencing him of something that could arguably be the most cringe-worthy thing he can say after kissing you. His laughs start to stifle though, as you press forward and somehow manage to have his back against the seat of the couch and you planting yourself on top of him.

“Can you shut up about the toy now? I thought we got past that,” You argue as you pull back, your cheek already missing the feeling of his palm against it. “You can’t just act like this and then say some dumb shit like that.”

You’re joking, he knows it. If anything, you’re complimenting him right now and he eats it the fuck up as he stares up at you.

“Was I wrong though?”

You take a moment to look at him, realizing that this is the man who you just kissed. With his hair a mess and fanned out on the cushions, strands falling in front of his eyes, but mostly swept back and exposing the entirety of his forehead to you.

You reach forward and brush a strand from his eyes.

“Actually, say whatever you want.” You correct yourself and manage to ignore his question.

“Why the sudden change of heart?” He half-chuckles as he brings his hands up to sit against your waist, hoping you don’t pull out of the intimate position the two of you are in.

“I don’t know, I was just looking at you and thought it would be stupid for me to try to argue with you right now.”

“Why’s that?” He prods for more compliments, feeling himself twitch at the way you look hovering over him.

“Are you trying to argue right now?” You tilt your head, adjusting yourself now to sit directly on his thighs and lay forward, both hands cushioning your chin on his chest as you straddle him.

“Would it be so wrong to admit that you’re fun when you argue with me?”

You can feel him breathe under you, nearly rocking you further and further into whatever headspace Jay seems to put you in. It’s too comfortable, and it almost feels as though you’ve been with him for years now. You barely know him, yet you’re lying on him as if you got married two years ago. Insane how this works. How the heart works, or the brain, or whatever drives the arousal you’re feeling right now.

“Will you argue if I ask to show you my room?” You start, lifting back up and away from his chest, now scooting forward a bit. You don’t dare sit on it yet, but you very much would like to if he were to suggest not moving at all from this couch. “My bed.”

He stutters and quickly quiets his excited words, replacing his voice with a nod and a sharp inhale.

“Hah! Telling me to argue and instantly buckling the second I mention my bed.” You laugh, pulling yourself up and sauntering out of his view.

He stares at the ceiling for a moment, in a daze over just how much he likes you. He wonders, would you be shocked to know he hasn’t had sex in much longer compared to you? One and a half months for you? That’s nothing to him. He’s been besties with his right hand for at least six months by now. Trust him when he says that it truly was difficult to not turn into a hormonal idiot when he saw you in the shop that day.

Finally, he shakes himself out of the spaced out horny brain staring at your ceiling and stands to his feet. He’s quick to adjust the bulge in his jeans, uncomfortably shaking his leg before looking toward where you walked off to.

“Um.” He stops, realizing you were watching him, looking directly at the spot he just adjusted. “I mean,” He tries to start again, adjusting again as he feels it slowly move out from its tucked place. “Listen,”

“No, I get it.” You say, snickering at his embarrassment as if he somehow doesn’t know you were suggesting at least some foreplay by moving to your room.

“Of course you do,” He drops his head, now blatantly shoving his hands down his pants to adjust before looking back up and taking a step forward. “You’re the one who sat on me like that.”

“Please, I didn’t even sit on it.”

“Didn’t need to.” He shrugs, now coming up to you and waiting for you to guide him through your space and into your room.

Once the two of you get there, him not even attempting to hide that he is very aroused at this moment, you’re very quick to turn and face him once he comes inside.

“We are on the same page, right?” You ask, looking at his lips and the way they still look so kissable.

“As far as I know, with all things considered.” He responds, looking down at himself and how pathetic he must seem in getting so aroused by nothing more than a kiss and a position change.

You smile, reaching for his hand and watching him tumble forward to you. Now standing mere inches in front of you.

“Do you want to see it?” You ask, a cheeky smirk on your face as you turn away from him and run to your bedside table.

He has no idea what the fuck you’re referring to until he sees it. There, in all of its non-human glory. Jay ticks his tongue, curiously straining his neck out to peek at what else is in your drawer as he walks closer.

You make no attempt to close the drawer and instead pull out another one, and another one, another one.

“If you keep pulling out toys I’ll start to think you were lying in saying you wanted to feel something more, um–”

“Real?” You say, turning from your presented line-up of toys to look at him.

He nods, gazing over the toys, four dildos all far bigger than he is.

“I can admit that men can’t vibrate, nor do they have those little rotating beats but,” You chuckle at the conversation, scooping the toys up quicker than you laid them out and tossing them back into the drawer. “They’re not warm, or attached to someone that can kiss me. They’re also not witty.”

You study his expression.

“They don’t make me laugh before getting me off.” You continue, wondering if you may actually be too forward about this now.

He’s rendered a bit speechless, which is rare for him in any given situation. He always has a quick response, not at this moment though as he looks at you. He wonders if you pity that obvious act of self-doubt upon seeing your toys.

“They’re not attached to you.” You add, this time stifling your chuckle, because it’s a pretty funny conversation if you look at it from the outside but you can imagine he must be feeling some type of way to be so quiet.

He thinks hard about it, knowing damn well where this was leading and pushing for it himself. Hearing you now though, so confidently say these things, all doubt erases from his mind.

“Before we do anything,” he starts, his shaky voice coming out more confident as he continues. “Is this just a hook-up to you or are you feeling the way I’m feeling right now?”

You look at him with a question in your eyes. He was kind of shocked that you didn’t finish for him this time, actually.

“Like, you know if we do this, I’m going to be calling to take you out to dinner at some point unless you say you don’t want me to, right?”

You hadn’t thought of anything past him since you’ve gotten here. You didn’t think about anything more than hanging out with him, and now, kissing him, and maybe you know, feeling him. For some reason though, despite the lack of sex you’ve had lately, him saying that only arouses you more. It’s been so long since you’ve intended to sleep with someone and have them want to stick around after. Some of the people you’ve been with didn’t even ask for your number. Is this what adult relationships are actually like?

“As in, you’d want to see where this goes in the–”

“Future, yes. I’m not just going to fuck you and pretend I didn’t when I see you again.”

Shockingly, that’s a first for you and you like the feeling it gives you. Plus, him implying that he’s about to, or very willing to, fuck you sends a wave of fondness through you.

“Alright. Let’s not call it a hook up then.” You say, the playful arousal from before stifling out at the idea of being intimate with someone who is making you aware that you’ll see him again, now being replaced with…feelings? Arousal with feelings?

“What should we call it?”

“A date?” You say back immediately, sitting on your bed and finally closing your bedside drawer.

“Oh, you fuck on the first date?”

You laugh at how quickly his wit comes back, especially with the way he crowds up and stands in front of you.

“With you? Looks like it.” You smile wide for him, feeling the tension bleed away and replace itself again with the arousal of him standing and looking down at you.

“How did we not meet earlier?” He asks, leaning down a bit as if to kiss you.

“Fuck if I know, I bought all of those toys at your shop.”

“Ah, right. Nine in the morning on a Monday. I don’t usually work mornings.”

“Guess I got lucky last time then.”

“I guess you did.” He adds like a period to a sentence, finally kissing you again and making no effort to hide the fact that he’s attempting to lay you down much like you did to him before.

You let him, falling back on your bed and feeling him nudge your legs to spread. Again, you let him, feeling your heart begin to race with excitement in the way he kisses you now versus how he did it earlier.

There is clear intent behind it this time, as he positions himself between your legs. Your heart only races faster when one of his hands slides down your arm and he tangles his fingers with yours. It’s all very intimate to be coming from a man you officially met today, but you really do feel lucky.

Lucky that he works two jobs, lucky that your family throws lame ass reunions every five years, lucky that you left your headlights on during a sunny sunday afternoon, lucky that your battery died.

It’s so normal already to smile into the kiss and feel giddy inside. Never have you smiled into a kiss save for laughing when a leg cramp happens mid-fuck. You can’t believe how much you’ve smiled and laughed today, and you can’t believe he’s making you react this way just by holding your fucking hand and kissing you this way.

He laughs when you react though, probably feeling at ease on your bed with you under him, squeezing your fingers tightly each time he licks against your tongue. And when he pulls back to breathe, you just look at him and the way his hair hangs in front of his eyes. He looks so pretty at this angle, even when he’s moving slowly, even when his other hand remains planted beside your head to hold his weight from falling onto you.

It’s not been since highschool that you’ve laid with someone simply making out, fully clothed, giggling. You’re unsure of how he’s pulled this out of you, because usually when a man is on top of you, you’re already trying to get his clothes off. But this? This is something that you want to last. You want it to be slower than a usual fuck, because you like when he’s here with you. Whether on top of you or not, there was a reason he’s stayed this late already and you already know it wasn’t solely to fuck you.

“Did you expect to be on top of me someday?” You ask between kisses, and he takes that as an invitation to laugh against your neck and tickle your cheek with his messy hair.

“Expect it? No,” He starts, leaving a kiss just under your ear before lowering his lips to the collar of your shirt and kissing there too. “Hoped I could, though.”

Your heart swells up at that. You realized he must have meant it when he admitted to having a small crush on you. Only now do you realize that the curiosity that brought you back up to the food-table during the reunion may have been the start of a crush on your end too.

You don’t say anything more after that and instead fall into the feeling of his lips kissing along your collar. For some reason the sensation of his lips pushing the fabric out of the way so he can kiss new exposed skin makes you feel incredibly wanted. Maybe it’s the pace, or maybe it’s just because you really really like him, and want him to want you.

“Do you want to take it off?” You ask after a few more of his kisses, wanting to control yourself but also very much wanting to feel his lips everywhere else too.

You can feel him nod in the form of his hair tickling your cheek more. But he doesn’t move from that spot at first, continuing to kiss you the same way and in the same places. You let him, up until he finally sighs and pulls back.

Looking at him now, even compared to a few moments ago, he looks even more pretty. His eyes are now soft, you can almost see the lines from where he’s smiled for you all day. His lips, looking more kissable than they did the past two times you thought they looked as kissable as they ever could. His eyebrows, showing no signs of tension but permanently arched in a way that makes him appear constantly moody.

You’re staring and you’re not intending to hide it. Even as he lifts your shirt from your waist and starts to pull it up. You barely budge as you stare, and stare, until you can’t because he’s trying to pull your shirt over your head.

“If you’d stop staring for two seconds maybe I could get this off of you–” He smiles knowingly, finally pulling it off when you arch your back and then prop yourself up slightly with your hands. “There.”

He sighs when he says it, going silent and almost frozen at the image of your nearly-naked torso. You watch him stare now, a smirk forming all too quickly.

“Now look who’s staring.” You chuckle, noting that his eyes still don’t leave the newly exposed skin or the fabric of your bra.

“Yeah, I am.” He admits, wetting his lower lip again and then flicking his eyes to you. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Suddenly, that eye contact makes you feel shy. You’re more naked than he is, despite mostly being dressed still.

“You know,” you start, avoiding his intense eye contact just to get the words out. “If we just take all of our clothes off now, it would probably be easier.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle at you but nods, already lifting his shirt off and going for his zipper and button.

“There’s no rush, but if you’d prefer we do,” He scoots back and away from you, standing to his feet to shove his jeans down his legs. “I don’t mind.”

You watch him undress and lose all ability to act on your own for a solid thirty seconds before you finally start panic-shimming the rest of your clothing off. Save for bra and panties, and he, now standing there clad in only a pair of form-fitting briefs.

You’re glad he isn’t as shy as you at this moment though, or rather, he appears to be entirely infatuated with your body and doesn’t look away from it for even a moment to feel embarrassed himself at standing on the side of your bed nearly nude.

“No rush?” You ask, when he finally trails his eyes up to you and takes his position between your legs from earlier. Except now, you can see his biceps and the way they flex, now, you can feel the immense amount of warmth radiating from him. Now, his hair is even more of a mess.

“I can try,” He says quietly, balancing on one hand and lowering his lips to yours once more, trying to ignore how dangerously close his length is to bumping against your core. “No promises now, though.”

You smirk, wondering where he lost his self control within that short span of time where you got undressed. He cuts your chuckle off mid-way though, now kissing you again and moving his hand up and down your waist. It tickles and causes goosebumps to form all over you, to the point that you can’t help but sigh into his kiss.

He continues, still holding his hips back from grinding against you, kissing you as good as he can until trailing back to your neck again.

It’s not until you run your fingers through his hair that he sighs himself. That relief and heavenly feeling of your fingers scraping the back of his neck— such a simple touch can literally send him straight to hell at this point and he wouldn’t care a single bit as long as it’s from you and your hands.

He lowers himself more, just to prevent his hips from intruding into this moment only to lock his lips onto the mound of your breast, other hand lowering so he can lay down and push your bra to the side a bit.

The cold air that hits your nipple is short-lived when you feel him immediately suck it into his mouth with a deep breath. You continue to scratch through his hair, now using your other hand to nearly hug his head in place as you feel the sensations shoot straight between your legs. Each flick of his tongue sends signals to your brain to go! go! go! But much like him, you hold back, even though your legs still manage to squeeze his body between yours in an attempt to find the friction he isn’t yet offering.

He continues this for a few minutes, and then works his fingers under the bra on the other side of your chest before switching his lips to that one. Perking them up so perfectly that he can graze his teeth against either nipple and feel your legs react to it. All of it is turning him on beyond belief, it’s dangerously attractive to him now too, to know that you have several toys that could have already gotten you off by now, but you choose this. You choose his lips playing with your tits, and your legs doing an amazing job of showing him your lack of control. After all, toys can’t give you the foreplay that he can.

His lips continue their work, up until he’s trailing further and further down, making your sighs hitch higher and higher in pitch. He kisses your waist, just above your belly button, then just below your belly button before leaning back.

There, he looks directly at the seat of your panties and smiles at the wet spot there. He plants a kiss right in the center of your mess before climbing back up and caressing your cheek again.

“You’re wet.” He comments in a huskier voice than he normally uses, balancing yet again on his other arm.

Goddamn, if this is how he sounds when he’s with a girl then you feel more lucky than before. You can’t imagine the amount of women who have fallen completely in love with this guy. And, before you can actually respond to him with another cheeky comment, his hand on your cheek disappears and is instantly between your legs, cupping you there and even scooting you up the bed with the force of how he grabs you.

You hitch out a sigh and look at him with a smile.

“Obviously.” You say back, rolling your eyes playfully before unintentionally bucking your hips into the pressure his palm offers against your clit.

“Cute too.” He adds, lifting his palm to run his fingers up the wet spot on your panties before pressing in slightly.

You can feel the fabric stick to you uncomfortably, but it still feels so fucking good. Any amount of touching from him feels good, if you’re being honest.

“And you’re teasing me.” You argue, looking away from his smirk as he plays with the wet fabric against his fingers.

“Just ask. I’m not teasing you if you're not telling me what you want.”

You shoot your eyes back to him, a mixture of curiosity and shock in your eyes. It’s true though, you are a little shocked. Most men really just do what they want, and so do you. Never have you been asked what you want.

Your eyes trail down as far as they can, what his hand is doing is mostly hidden between your legs but you focus entirely on the way his arms flex as his fingers travel up and down your panties.

“You want me to ask?” You question, hips bucking up again unintentionally.

“Not so much ask, but like, tell me what you want.”

He nods to himself as he says it, licking his bottom lip and pressing the fabric of your panties in yet again.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to do what he wants right now though, definitely not. He just figures you know your body far better than he does, and he’d rather not make assumptions and embarrass himself when you could just ask him or better, guide him. Who is he to assume you want his fingers right now anyway?

“I’ve never…” You start, swallowing your words as your brain goes back to focusing on his fingers momentarily. “I haven’t–”

He knows what you’re trying to say, so he attempts to make it a bit easier for you.

“Do you want me to pull your panties to the side?”

You sigh with a nod, looking at him and allowing him to guide you through telling him what you want.

“Do you want me to touch you?”

You nod again, pushing your head back against the mattress out of frustration that you, for some reason, can’t find the words to just tell him yourself.

He listens to your body though, more than your weak nods and frustrated sighs. The way your legs shake when he asks, the way you react to the air hitting your folds when he does push your panties to the side. He can’t bear to look down yet though, because he knows for a fact that if he were to pull back and look at you in full, he’d no longer be asking you what you want. He’d be embarrassing for sure.

You can feel his fingers now sliding through your folds though, bare pussy out and on display but not yet being looked at, only being felt. And arguably, all you can do right now is feel too, as he leans forward to kiss you in this silent moment.

His fingers continue to explore as he kisses you, collecting all of your arousal and swirling it around your clit before sliding back down and prodding at your entrance. You make a sound at that, kissing him a little harder than before when he lets out a hum.

“Hm?” He hums against your lips, and you nod to him.

There, he dips a finger in only slightly. Your arms reach around his neck at the feeling and pull him closer to you. To the point that you can feel him struggle to angle his hands right to slide in deeper, but you pay no mind to it. At least not until you kiss the fucking daylights out of him.

That, you do. Kissing him with full-force and making a show of how turned on you are for him. He feels it, with or without your kiss bruising him. The wetness on the tip of his finger only becomes wetter, and when you release your grip around his neck, he still doesn’t leave the kiss.

He goes back to gently kissing you, focusing more on his fingers than what his tongue is doing. He slides that same finger in all the way now, feeling your walls clench almost instantly and beg for more. Chuckling at the feeling, he fucks his finger into you experimentally before pulling them out and adjusting two fingers at your entrance.

“Hm?” He hums again, and you nod again.

So, two fingers slide in and you’re releasing a soft moan against his lips. Already out of breath from focusing so hard on how he feels when he touches you. Your lips fall slack just to catch that lost breath, and he doesn’t argue, going right back to that spot on your neck to kiss as he picks up rhythm with his fingers. Effectively fucking you open with them as you cling to him.

You hate to say you didn’t pay much attention to his hands until now. Having not noticed how deep just those two digits reach inside of you, and good fucking lord does he know how to use them too. Curling them up at just the right moment to have your legs shaking.

Never have your legs fucking shook for a man. This only happens with the g-spot stimulating toys. God, you open your eyes to look at the ceiling in thought, and it has you wondering if he even knows he’s doing it.

“Keep doing that–” you urge him, and he hums at you finally at least trying to tell him what you want.

He finally lifts from your neck to look at you, now placing his weight back on that one free arm that had been toying with the ends of your hair this entire time, and he’s fucking floored. Even if he pictured you before with those toys, none of those images came close to this. And it’s just his fingers? No where near the size of your toys, no where near as expensive, or warm…or alive.

Oh. You want to feel someone who wants you.

“I’ll do anything you want.” He says, doing exactly as you asked except a little faster, still hitting that spot inside of you so perfectly that you’re moaning out now.

He tunes in entirely to the sounds you’re making, the faces you’re making, and the way your pussy clenches around just those two fingers. He is aching at this point, pulling back from hovering over you to sit now between your legs, fingers still keeping pace, and sliding his other hand down his briefs.

You don’t notice at first, too enthralled by the feeling of his curling fingers inside of you, but when you do–

“God,” You moan, rolling your eyes at the image of him out of breath, both hands working to pleasure both of you. “Come here.”

He listens, already pulling his hand away from himself but keeping his fingers in you, in a daze as he takes his original position of hovering over you.

“No, I mean, come here.” You say, looking at him as you reach between your bodies and pull his fingers out of you, then reach to grab between his legs.

He immediately moans at the feeling, his hips pressing harshly into your grip with a whine as he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes just to feel it.

“Pull it out.” You continue, slowly becoming more and more comfortable telling him what you want.

Just watching him do what you ask is insanely hot. The way he pulls his cock out seems so natural to him, you suddenly imagine what he must look like all alone while getting himself off. Thankfully though, he’s not all alone right now, he’s with you, and you intend to be getting him off.

You look at him, between his legs, and then back at him once more before grabbing it again and practically pulling his hips to you by the cock. He groans all the same at it though, and only holds his breath when he feels your legs spread further and essentially press his cock between your folds and hold it there from the head.

“Grind.” You say, still holding your hand in place to keep the pressure against him, which also puts pressure against your clit when he does grind up.

You both shiver at it, and he still looks down at you, fucking smiling through his sighs of relief regarding the new sensations you’re offering.

“You’re actually fucking perfect.” He compliments, fucking his hips up and coating his cock with the dripping of your needy cunt.

Out of everything he’s ever said to you up to this point, out of everything he’s fucking done to you, that’s the one thing that has you spiralling into a world of fire. It makes you feel so warm, especially with the head of his cock bumping your clit. He has barely gotten any friction and he is still calling you perfect? Sign you the fuck up, forever, actually.

“Don’t be stupid,” You start, waving him off between moans and gripping his shoulders.

He grinds up harder at your words though, now propping himself up on his elbows and grabbing your face on both sides.

“You, don’t be stupid.” He says clearly, pointing his thrusts directly at your clit and moaning only slightly as he looks at you.

You swear, at that moment he could see your entire life. Everything about you. Everything you love and hate. The way he doesn’t look through you but at you?

“You’re actually insane.” You laugh, crumbling to his pointed gaze and thrusts, your legs automatically shooting up to wrap around his waist.

He seems proud of being called insane right now. Mostly because he can come up with at least fifty reasons as to why this is anything but insanity, but he remains quiet at the feeling of your legs squeezing around him.

Such a girl was looking for mundane sex toys to have normal sex with? Lucky you, this is his fucking favorite. Plain ‘ol missionary? Check. Legs squeezing around him, almost pulling him in? Check. Looking directly at the face of the person he wants to make feel good? Check.

You barely notice his lack of control by this point, the closeness alone feels like you’re already having sex but you realize you’re entirely empty still. This is fine though, until it’s not.

When does it not become fine? When his confident moans turn to soft sighs, and you notice his arms shaking a bit to hold his weight above you, and when his eyes go dead staring at you. You can tell he’s focused entirely on the feeling between the two of you, doing nothing more than aggressive yet…weak grinds?

“Jay,” You say, slightly out of breath.

“Hm?” He responds half-heartedly, releasing his weight from one elbow and dropping his head between your neck and shoulder.

“Fuck me.”

It’s like you can feel the switch in his head go from losing sanity to gaining it back in an instant at those words. He felt like he was pleasuring himself against you for so long, with so much friction between your hand and his abdomen constantly pressing into it. He could have gotten off from this, if you wanted him to anyway. It would have been an intense orgasm after working up for so long too, but now?

He doesn’t even say anything, he doesn’t even move his head from between your neck and shoulder. Instead, you feel him expertly adjust his hips and press in without much trouble. He finds exactly where he belongs so fucking fast that is has you spinning and clenching immediately.

“Shit,” He drones out with a long sigh, slowly sinking his cock into you. “You’re throbbing.”

You chuckle, because yeah. You definitely are, but so is he. You can feel his thick length spreading you open inch by inch, until he’s fully planted into you and twitching. Then he doesn’t move again.

“This alone could do me in,” He chuckles against your neck, breathing in a deep sigh and attaching his teeth to your lower ear lobe. “Honestly, I can't believe I didn’t already cum just from having my fingers in you.”

You’re both flattered and shocked by this comment, before you can even think to respond he’s talking again.

“You’re so tight, so wet.” He soothes himself through the feeling of your walls clenching around him by explaining how good your pussy feels, not yet wanting to move and just wanting to feel what your body does to him on its own. “It’s so hard not to move right now.”

“Please,” You manage to get out, struggling to focus on just one thing with the way he’s talking and the way he sits so perfectly inside of you. “Please, move.”

And he does, instantly. Pulling out and sliding back in so easily that the slapping sound is muted entirely by the matching moan you both release. You can feel his voice vibrating against your neck, and you can imagine he might be able to feel yours through your pulsing walls, because it feels like every sound, touch, and sensation is sent straight there for him to enjoy.

It doesn’t stop either. Both of you shamelessly moaning at the feeling of him snapping his hips into you at perfect speed, with a perfect voice, and a perfect hand moving up to grip your chest.

He’s practically blanketing you with his body, your legs holding him in this spot, his hair still finding a way to tickle your cheek with each thrust in. It’s so fucking much. It’s so good, and so…comfortable.

You’re comfortable. So comfortable you don’t even feel the need to rub your clit, you don’t want to chase the orgasm, you just want to feel him. And apparently, he’s still on the same page with you.

When he lifts his head, kissing the bottom of your chin and then your lower lip, still the two of you are groaning at each deep thrust in, but he manages to talk through it, somehow.

“Don’t stop,” he says, despite you barely doing anything. “Keep doing that.” He continues as his thrusts pick up pace.

Only now do you realize that you were doing something. Without noticing, your hands were nearly tearing his back apart. Not literally, but your nails may have dug in a few times. Normally, once you notice doing that, you would stop because normally men don’t want the trace of another woman on him. Jay though, he’s in love with the idea that you’ll leave a mark.

Obsessed with the sting of it, really, loving the idea of going to his night-job tomorrow and staring at all of the toys that don’t offer you a back to hold onto like this.

You do as he asks much like he does for you, gripping him so tightly that your nails have no choice but to leave half-moon shapes on his skin. Each thrust drags your fingers up, down, up down, and with each thrust it somehow feels deeper, harder, hotter.

When he releases your chest from his other hand and puts it back to your cheek, caressing much like he has each time he’s focused on kissing you, you think you’re a fucking goner.

As expected, he kisses you at that moment and thrusts once, hard, before holding himself there.

“I’m really close,” He whispers apologetically between kisses, “tell me how to get you there with me.”

You smile when he kisses you again instead of letting you answer, but you fall into it much like he does and you opt to grab that hand on your cheek and guide it to your clit.

Instantly, he’s rubbing harsh and sloppy circles around it, and you reward him for the perfect work of his fingers yet again with your fingernails digging into his back. He softly moans at that, and you swallow it up all too easily.

Tensing your muscles, his fingers on your clit work you up so quickly that you barely warn him of your oncoming orgasm, even as his cock sits leaking and heavy inside of you. You don’t even know how to tell him, all you can do is frantically moan out shortly.

“I’m–”

Instantly his hips are back at work, barely even thrusting but instead remaining buried into you for the most part. He pulls out an inch and slams back in, wanting your orgasm to get him off more than his own movements. And fuck, it does.

The way you clench when you reach your high, slack lips against his own, he releases at what he could argue is the best possible time. Your tenses muscles work him up perfectly, gently massaging his cock as he releases in full without too much overstimulation.

And you. You have never gotten off with a man staying mostly still inside of you. Actually, you’ve only gotten off that way with toys because nothing beats getting off while completely full. Jay really is something, or, someone.

The two of you release together, and his lips fall slack just like yours do. The kissing turned to that of desperate, orgasm-fogged moans into the other’s mouth. For some reason, it was incredibly hot to you that you both reacted that way. So insanely drunk on the other that nothing felt embarrassing.

Even the way his fingers moved on your clit through your orgasm, he somehow knew when to go and when to stop.

Even now, as your orgasm tapers off, you are so blissfully aware that you want to immediately fall asleep even with him inside of you. Jay is polite though, and gently pulls out with a small apology of the mess.

When he looks at you, looking so sleepy under him, maybe it translates to him too and he instantly yawns but tries to be strong for both of you.

“We should clean up.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

There wasn’t even a question in your head when he slept over that night. He didn’t even hint at leaving. Nor did he hint the morning after as you groggily opened your computer for your daily work.

He did hint that he would miss you when he eventually had to go to his own house and get ready for an evening at the sex-shop. He also hinted a few times at feeling like, when he looked at you, you weren’t a brand new person in his life. Part of you wonders if that’s because maybe you want to be permanent in his life from now on.

Later that night, he came back. Bright eyes and a stinging back.

For some reason, you feel it’s safe to say that neither of you can stand being apart for too long. So yeah, maybe this is what a normal relationship is like. If, you know, you were in a relationship with him.

Ironically enough, only a few days later that relationship is established in the form of a new car battery and a bottle of lube that he bought for you.

Not that you need it. (The lube.)

#enhypen smut #park jonseong smut #jay smut #park jay smut #enha smut

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diyasgarden · 1 month

Text

The Chain

pairing: Patrick Zweig x reader, minor Art Donaldson x reader

rating: explicit (18+)

word count: 28.3K

summary: Ever since you started at the Mark Rebellato Tennis Academy, it seemed like Patrick Zweig was out to make your life miserable. But as you both grow older and your relationship with him evolves in ways you couldn't have predicted, you find there is truly no escaping Patrick.

contains: mentions of bullying, infidelity, oral sex (m and f receiving), vaginal sex, cucking (somewhat), vaginal penetration with a tennis racket, depressive tendencies, reader slaps Patrick, reader is somewhat pathetic (i still <3 her)

author's note: Hi!! This is my first time ever writing a fic like this. Both in length and plot. Plus, it's my first time writing anything explicit. The idea was sent to me by @senseofnewness (absolutely brilliant!!!) and what was meant to originally be a short fic is now this. The name is taken from the Fleetwood Mac song of the same name, which I felt was fitting for the characters. I have a lot of mixed feelings on this fic, but I know loved it writing it. Enjoy <3

----

“Sign mine?” someone asks from above you. You look up from your seat on the bleachers to see Art Donaldson holding out his yearbook and a pen to you. You blankly stare at it and then your eyes dart around the area to see if someone is going to jump out of the corner laughing at you. It wasn’t like him to do so, but your mind automatically goes to thinking this is some sort of joke. When you’re unable to find anyone, you realize he is genuinely asking. Someone asking to sign your yearbook? Well that’s a first. You’re not friends with him, but then again you weren’t friends with anyone at the Mark Rebellato Tennis Academy.

You reach out for the yearbook and pen without saying anything, but then realize how awkward the silence must be. “You may have to burn this afterwards,” you say in an attempt to make a joke to fill the silence, but see a frown form on his face and realize he doesn’t find it funny. You look down at the yearbook on your lap to hide the embarrassment and quickly scribble something, so this interaction can end. Have a good summer! Short and simple. As you hand the book and pen back to him, you hope this is the part where he walks away and you can finish your lunch. It’s 12:55 PM, you need to go soon.

Except he just stands there. You look at him feeling confused. Now what? His eyes dart to the yearbook beside where you sit. It’s only then you realize he wants to sign your yearbook. Another first. You reluctantly take the book and hand it to him, the feeling that this is some sort of joke lingering in the back of your head. Again, Art never joined in on the teasing and it was kind of late to start, but who knows. You wouldn’t be surprised.

He smiles as he opens to the back of the book and starts to write something down. “I’ll guess I’ll still be seeing you around in the fall” he comments in a tone that indicates there is more he wants to say. He pauses, looking at what he wrote, but then starts to write again. “Mhm,” you mumble with your mouth full. You’re both going to Stanford and both playing for Stanford Tennis. You got a full scholarship for the school, just like the one you had for the past six years at the academy. You wouldn’t have been able to pay for university without it. That was the best part of tennis for you: the doors it opened.

You glance down at your watch again as you shove the last bit of your sandwich in your bag. It’s 12:57 now. You need to leave. He smiles as he finally hands the book back to you. “See you at graduation,” he says with a smile and a wave as he walks away. You wave back and look down to see what he wrote in the book. It was nice going to the Academy with you! Can’t wait to see you at Stanford. Keep in touch :)

It is followed by a set of numbers. His phone number? Before you can think too much about this, you see on your watch it’s 12:59. You toss the book back into your bag, and leave.

----

“Where were you?” Patrick asks the minute you open the door to his car and slide into the backseat beside him. He’s parked behind some shop, far enough from campus that no one will know who you are. He rarely picks the same place twice, but this area looks familiar for some reason. You’re not going to tell him about the little run in with Art, so you shrug and say, “Was finishing up some work.” He rolls his eyes, “We are graduating next week and you care about work?"

You just look at him with an annoyed expression, one that he clearly doesn’t care about, because it just makes him laugh. He then looks at you, taking in the furrow of your brows, before leaning in close to your face. He smirks, as his hand moves to your thigh. It slowly moves up underneath your skirt and you feel his fingers pull at the little spandex shorts you have underneath. Then his lips come down crashing on yours.

----

Your classmates at the academy have a very surface level understanding of you. They know your family is poor. They know you can only attend the school because of a scholarship. And they all hate you. Curetsy of the one and only Patrick Zwieg.

From the start he made it clear that he thought you didn’t belong in the academy. It’s not like your twelve year old self did anything to upset him when you first joined. He just took one look at you and decided your existence at the academy went against the laws of nature. And well he wasn’t wrong. You were surrounded by people who had enough privilege to coast through life, while you had none. You were well aware you were the black sheep. He was just rubbing salt in the wound.

Your first year at the academy was spent with the twelve year old Patrick calling you names any chance he got. As he got older, he just seemed to get more creative with the torment. From breaking your rackets and getting others to tease you, it got worse each year. By the time you turned fifteen, every single one of your classmates knew you as the broke scholarship student who should have dropped out ages ago. What they didn’t know was the fact you’ve been sleeping with Patrick.

It was junior year and the weekend before Christmas. You both were the only ones who hadn’t left for winter break yet. Your family always booked the cheapest flight for you, which usually means flying on Christmas day. While you don’t remember why he was still at the academy, you do remember running into him at the indoor courts. He made some comments about your family. You don’t remember exactly what but you assume it was something about your parent’s inability to spend money on a decent flight. Maybe it was the fact that you two were the only ones there, but something snapped inside you that day. You called him “a worthless trust fund kind who’d never amount to anything.” Your first time ever speaking back to him and that really set him off. The next thing you know he was dragging you into the locker room saying he was going to shove your head in the toilet.

For all the years he spent threatening to put your head in the toilet, this was the first time he ever actually acted on it. His grip on you was strong. You distinctly remember thinking that it was the end. And then just as he actually got you into the locker room, you saw you had the opportunity to do what everyone wishes they could to the men that make their life miserable: hit him right in the nuts. You punched him there hard and he fell to the ground.

The next thing you knew, you got on top of him while he laid on the ground and hit him. Years of pent up rage pouring out of you in your smacks and the insults you hurled at him. What happened after that was all a blur. You felt something poke your thigh and before you could even process the fact you somehow turned him on, his mouth crashed on yours and you both started making out on the floor of the boy’s locker room.

You didn’t see him after that. He went to go home the morning after and when Christmas day came you left too. What happened between the both of you in the locker room lingered at the back of your mind all throughout the break. The memory felt like a sinful secret that aroused you more than any form of smut or porn could. You even touched yourself to it. While that was slightly shameful, you weren’t surprised it affected you so much. The fact that you were a social pariah at the academy meant none of your classmates showed any interest in you, be it platonic, romantic, or sexual. It wasn’t your first kiss, but it was your first proper time making out with a boy. And you weren’t blind. Patrick may have been your bully, but you knew he was attractive.

By the time January rolled around and you were back at the academy, you didn’t know what to expect. You didn’t know what effect that moment had on him. On one hand, you knew he got around and was not as sexually pent up as you, so maybe this was normal for him? On the other hand, he must have at least felt a bit of shock for making out with you considering the fact how he always treated you. Regardless, there was no universe in which you could imagine Patrick being nice to you. You saw him on the first day back in your history class, and just as if nothing happened, he insulted your hand-me-down backpack as you walked into the classroom. His friends laughed and joined in, and you realized whatever happened that weekend before Christmas was a freak accident. You just assumed things were now back to normal, up until he cornered you later that day behind the gym. A little nook where no one could see either of you. He bent down close to your face and threatened that if you ever told anyone he’d kill you. You felt heart race and thighs clench, but before you could give any response his lips were once again on yours. And that’s how it all started.

----

“You’re playing in the US junior open?” Patrick asks as he sits up again, leaning against the car window, his face flushed and hair messy from the sex.

You sit up as well as you nod in response. How did he find out about that? You guess some coach probably told him. You slowly reach for your clothes from the floor of the car, and look outside the window. This time you realize why it felt familiar. This is where he parked his car for you both to fuck after prom. You went alone (only because your mother called you saying you may regret it if you didn’t) and he went with another girl, but an hour after the dance ended you got a text from him telling you where to find him. Without a second thought, you went.

You turn back to face him, as you pull on your shirt, and see he has a pensive expression as if debating something. “What?” you ask. “I didn’t know you qualified,” he says. You simply shrug in response, you weren’t sure how you qualified either. Tennis is an out of body experience at this point. When you watch your games, it never feels like you’re watching yourself.

“Guess they let anyone play,” he says with a little chuckle looking out the window, although his voice isn’t mocking like in public. When he teased you in private, it always felt more playful. As if he wanted to make you laugh, not cry. You watch him look out the window to check if anyone is around. He turns back to you and says, "I have to get back for practice.” This was his way of saying: Now that we are done fucking, you need to leave.

You pull up your skirt and nod to let him know you got the message. You pick up your bag and step out of the car. Just as you start to walk back in the direction of campus, you hear the window of his car roll down and Patrick calling your name. You turn to face him and he asks, “Same time tomorrow?” You should say no, but instead you say, “Sure.”

----

Your last week at the Academy was relatively peaceful. Some name calling here and there, but as graduation got closer no one seemed to have the energy to bother you. Everyone was busy talking about their summer plans, the junior open, or where they were going in the fall. Nearly everyone committed to one university or another, either to play tennis there or just to get a degree. Only Patrick chose to go pro, which wasn’t a surprise considering he was always vocal about how pointless university was. You two spent the last week hooking up in his car behind random buildings and in abandoned parking lots after classes ended, but the last time you actually saw him was at graduation. After the ceremony, you headed out towards your parents and saw him standing with a serious expression as two adults talked to him. His parents you guessed. As you watched him, he turned to face you as his parents continued to talk, not noticing his attention was elsewhere, and you both just looked at each other.

You broke eye contact first when your parents asked you to pose for a photo. You never told them about how awful the other students treated you at the academy. Mostly because you knew they would have pulled you out. You didn't want that because you were aware that the public school in your home town wouldn’t have given you half as good of an education as the academy. As a result, they thought everything was great and were eager to memorialize the time you spent there, taking photos of every game and event they could attend. Although, this you could agree was momentous. Graduation meant you were leaving the academy behind, so you happily posed for them. By the time they were done snapping pictures of you in your cap and gown and you looked around for Patrick, he was nowhere to be found. Of course he wouldn’t have come up to you, and you wouldn’t have gone up to him. But you expected something more than whatever that was. It felt like an anticlimactic ending to the past six years.

The summer last year, the one in between junior and senior year, you had kept in contact, but it was really just phone sex at least once a week. This summer he hadn’t reached out once. You didn’t either, choosing to spend an embarrassing amount of time thinking about him instead. You told yourself that it was a much needed reflection on your relationship with Patrick, which regardless of how bizarre and unconventional was still your first relationship. In all fairness, relationship was too generous of a word, but you couldn’t think of what else to call it. You lost your virginity to him and you were sleeping together for over a year. Consistently too, as you met up multiple times each week. Of course it was always on his terms. You met when he wanted to meet. Always in private and never doing anything in public that could even hint at what they were doing. He was still awful to you in front of others. A part of you hated the fact that someone you made your life so miserable could make you feel so good, but a larger part was ready to comply with anything he wanted. It was sadistic, but you couldn’t help but find it poetic that the first guy to make you break down in public was also the first guy to make you come.

You tried to occupy the time by spending time with your family, being in the sun, and practicing tennis, but nothing was enough to expel Patrick from your mind. By the time the junior open came around, you were grateful to have something else to focus on.

----

You got out of the open when you lost a semi finals match against Anna Mueller. You didn’t even expect to get that far, so you were unphased by the loss. Your family was proud and you had one more match in the evening against the player who lost the other girls’ singles semi final. It was just to determine who’d place third and who’d place fourth, and you were fine with either. You decided to pass the time till then by taking a little walk around the center where the open was being held. It was your first time here, so you may as well explore.

Just as you stood in front of a board in the entry hall of the center detailing its history, you heard a familiar voice say to you, “Great match yesterday. You were amazing.”

You turned around to see the strawberry blonde you only expected to see again at Stanford stand in front of you. He is smiling and you can tell he is being genuine when he says it, but that doesn’t stop you from saying, “Well I lost.”

Art simply shrugs in response, “You still played well.” Unsure what to say in response, you nod slowly. You can feel your eyes go downcast , and an awkward silence forms between the both of you. He swallows and looks at you as the awkwardness grows. Then suddenly he says, “You never called.”

“Huh?” you respond looking up at him. “Your yearbook…I wrote down my number,” he reminds you in a slow voice, his cheeks flushing pink as he does. You can see he is embarrassed, but you honestly did forget about his message in your yearbook.

“Oh..that,” you say with a forced laugh, trying to seem normal. If you were unsure how to respond to his compliment about your game, you are at a genuine loss of words on how to acknowledge this. He surely couldn’t have actually expected you to call him over the summer? You came to the conclusion that he left his phone number as a formality because you were both going to Stanford. A way to contact him once you both got there.

Art lets out a forced little laugh too, and you can see he feels equally awkward by this interaction. For a moment, it looks like he is about to say something, until you hear an even more familiar voice ask, “What’s going on here?”

Both you and Art turn to the direction where the voice came from and see Patrick standing there. While you imagined the moment you’d run into Patrick again, nothing you imagined was as awkward as this. His summer tan is visible against the white of his shirt, and you bite down on your back teeth to stay focused. His eyes dart between you and Art and it’s clear he has picked up on whatever awkward energy is radiating off the both of you. For a moment you think he is going to laugh or crack a joke about your inability to hold a conversation, but his eyebrows just furrow.

Art’s eyes go to the side, unable to hold the weight of Patrick’s gaze, and you realize it’s up to you to say something, “We were just talking about my game yesterday,” you say.

“Against Anna Mueller,” Patrick says and you nod. “The one you lost,” he then adds. Art shoots him an expression you can’t read, but one that Patrick obviously understands because he shrugs and adds on, “What? She did lose.”

Art just sighs and turns back to you, “We should get going. We have our doubles final in an hour.”

“Oh good luck,” you say with a little nod. Of course they were in the doubles competition together. Fire and Ice. While you knew they were the poster child for being a duo in every sense of the word, you always found it hard to associate both boys with each other like everyone else did. Art was the only one of Patrick’s friends who didn’t make fun of you. When Patrick or any of this other friends said something, he’d just sit there watching. Which was always a bit strange considering he was his best friend.

“You’ll come watch?” Art then asks slowly.

This request surprises both you and Patrick, who’s eyebrows shoot up a little bit. “Uh...yeah sure,” you say with a little shrug. It feels too awkward to say no to Art right now, even if you don’t fully understand why he wants you at the game or want to go in the first place. Art just smiles in response, and waves a bit as he walks off. He stops when he notices Patrick just stands there looking at you.

You look at Patrick and you see he has a stony expression on his face directed right at you. “Patrick?” Art asks, and as if shaken back to reality Patrick’s face instantly goes back to normal.

He turns to Art and with a little nod Patrick says, “I came in to use the bathroom. You head out, I’ll catch up to you later.” Art simply nods and walks to exit the center and head back to the courts. Both you and Patrick watch Art leave, and the minute he is out of the door, Patrick walks over and grabs your wrist before you can even process what’s going on. “Come,” is all he says as he starts to walk, taking you along with him. You soon realize he is taking you into the bathroom with him. He opens the door to the men’s bathroom and then takes you into a stall. He locks it behind him.

Patrick looks at you for a moment and then asks in a low voice, “So what were you and Art actually talking about? “We were talking about my game,” you say with a nod. “Don’t bullshit me,” he says with an expression that shows he knows you’ve left something out.

You just look at him for a moment, staring into his green eyes, which stare right back at you with a serious look. You assume he is worried that you may have told Art about the two of you. You shrug and admit, “He gave me his number.” Patrick just looks at you, but before he can say anything, you add on “Not like right now, but before school ended.”

“At the academy?” he asks, his voice tinged with slight disbelief. “He wrote it in my yearbook,” you say. “What? So you’ve been texting him or something?” Patrick then asks, his voice irritated now. You shake your head no and his eyebrows furrow as if trying to determine if you’re lying or not. Something about your expression must make him realize you’re being honest, because after a few seconds he nods in response. He looks to the side and then back to you. “You’re actually going to come to the game?” he then asks. You shrug in response, at this point, you’d feel bad for not showing up, so you’re going to be there anyway. “I guess so. Yeah,” you mumble with a little nod.

“Give me a good luck kiss then” he says. You blink once, not expecting this, but then comply anyway. You have to stand on your tiptoes to reach his lips, and once you do, you plant a kiss on them. You can feel him smile underneath your lips, and in a low voice he says, “Cute, but you know that’s not what I meant.” His hand reaches for yours and you feel it move to his groin, and you can feel he’s hard already. “You’ve been wearing the same tennis skirts for the past three years. They’ve always given me a nice view of your ass.” His other hand sneaks underneath your skirt as he rests a hand on your spandex short and then gives your ass a squeeze. Of course this is what he brought you in here for. You remember how you spent the past month reflecting on moments just like that. How you spent hours analyzing your relationship with him under the impression that it was over. But with your hand gently palming his crotch in the bathroom stall, you realize how wrong you were.

Could you both get disqualified for this? Anyone could come into the bathroom, and it would be obvious what was happening, even in the stall. Even with these concerns, you sink to your knees without a second thought, as he starts to pull down his shorts. He doesn’t even bother pulling it down fully, just enough to be exposed.

You lick your hand and then place it on the base of his length, getting a whimper from him in response, as you slowly start to move it up and down. You move your lips to his tip, and slowly wrap it around his cock. He moans as you start giving him sloppy sucks and continue to move your hand. He pushes himself deeper into your mouth and you yelp, and this elicits another moan, “God.” His hands reach down to your head. His hands wrap around your hair, holding it, and start to pull your head back and forth. As he continued to thrust in your throat, you felt his public hair brush against your nose. Realizing you’re fully taking him, you move your hand from the base of his dick to cupping his sack with a slight squeeze, which just makes him moan even more. “Don’t stop.” You did your best to match the pace of your squeezes to his thrusts, and after a few minutes of this, he pulled back, just leaving just the tip. You felt him throb around your lips and shortly after he came in your mouth.

He smiles down at you as you swallow, and then pulls you up by the shoulders and kisses you on his lips. His tongue snakes into your mouth and after a minute of tasting himself on your lips, he pulls away and smiles at you. “See you at the game,” he says with a smile, as he then opens the stall door and walks out. You just stand there, as you hear the door to the bathrooms open and close, trying to ignore the growing ache between your legs.

----

You end up getting to the game midway through the first set and sit in the bleachers surrounded by other people. You hope that neither Art nor Patrick can see you, but of course they do. During the break Art smiles and gives you a little wave, and Patrick just flashes a smirk. The same smile he gave you in the men’s bathroom thirty minutes ago and your stomach does a flip. You didn’t get the chance to take care of yourself after that, busy trying to process what happened and denying the fact that you are wet. You’re failing at the latter as you feel your thighs clench at seeing him on the court. The game continues and you feel the ache grow as you watch Patrick play. The way his body moves as he runs to the ball and his grunts as he hits it all seem to make your wetness grow. Your thighs clench as you see his shirt ride up a bit to hit the ball and you catch a glimpse of his abs and happy trail.

The sight makes you lose whatever remaining reason you have, as you get up and mutter sorry as you climb over the other people in the row to get away. You go down the bleachers and walk around until you find the closest bathroom. Once you spot it, you nearly run into it and lock the door. Unlike the bathroom you were in earlier, this one has no stalls. Just for one person, and you feel grateful for the privacy. You walk over to the sink, resting both hands on its sides and slowly leaning on it. You look at yourself for a minute, your face is slightly red and your breathing is labored.

You take a deep breath as you close your eyes and your hand sneaks down between to the ache. Your fingers find your throbbing clit and you start making slow little circles as you think about Patrick on the court. The more you lose yourself in the memory, the more your fingers speed up. The way his biceps flexed. The slight jiggle of his thighs. The abs. The happy trail. Every single grunt. It’s not long before you moan and feel yourself come undone. As you feel yourself come off your high, your eyes shoot open and you look at yourself in the mirror. Your breathing is even more erratic and your face more flushed. A wave of clarity washes over you and then you just feel pathetic.

You wash your hands and splash some water on your face. As you step out of the bathroom, you’re certain that the game is still going on, but don’t feel up to going back and watching. You know Art and Patrick will probably win anyway, and you need to get out of the clothes. As you walk back to the hotel, you’re sure you can smell your arousal.

----

Besides the weird events of the afternoon, your game went well. You won and that placed you third overall. You sip your sprite as you look around the lights that are strung from tree to tree at the Adidas Long Island party. It was being held for Tashi Duncan, who was the winner of the girls single US junior open. Like anyone in the tennis world, you had heard of her before. The next Serena Williams. It was disappointing your game was the same time as hers because you’re sure it would have been amazing to watch her play. Originally, you weren’t planning on coming, but when your parents found out your mom pulled out the one nice dress she made you pack just in case you needed it and insisted you go. After the events of this afternoon and winning your game in the evening, you admitted that the party was a nice distraction and celebration for those things respectively.

Even though the beach area is a bit far from where the party is, you can somewhat see the waves from there. You take another sip of your drink and watch the waves for a moment, before you hear a voice come up from behind you. “It’s pretty right?” you turn to see Art. God does this man have a thing for sneaking up on you. He looks at you with a small smile, and it’s clear he only said that to start a conversation with you.

“Yeah…it is,” you respond with a little nod. Your throat feels dry so you take another sip of your drink, and to prevent an awkward silence “Your game was good.”

“Thanks…” he says with a little nod. His eyes glance to the side and then he says in a slow voice, “You left midway.”

“I got a little nervous about my game, so I just went back to the hotel to relax for a bit,” you lie with a little too much ease.

Art nods and it looks like you’re in the clear. It’s not like he could predict the real reason you left anyway. “Congrats on the win,” he then says with a little nod. “I wish I could have come but I was at the..” his voice trails off as he motions to a poster of Tashi hung up across the party.

“Oh..no yeah,” you say, it makes sense he was at that final. “I’m sure that would have been much more interesting,” you add on with a little laugh that just slips out. Art lets out a little laugh too, and it finally seems as if you’ve moved away from the awkwardness all your conversations have.

You both look at the posters of Tashi and relax in the now non-awkward silence between the both of you. It’s short lived, because a minute later you both see Patrick standing by the poster looking at the both of you. You can sense Art tensing up beside you, and you’re sure your reaction is equally fraught. You take a sip of your sprite in an attempt to hide your expression behind the bottle.

Patrick is gripping a coke bottle and looks at both of you with an irritated look. Then his gaze singles in on Art. His expression seems to communicate the words get over here. Art looks at him with an expression that says what? Patrick holds the expression and Art sighs, “I’ll be right back”

You nod as you watch Art walk over to Patrick by the posters. As Art approaches him, Patrick’s gaze goes back to you for a moment but then falls to the ground as if he is unable to make eye contact with you. For a moment you find it hard to believe this is the same man who was shoving his cock down your throat earlier today. His gaze goes to Art again and he immediately starts saying something to him. You take a sip from your drink, and see both boys get lost in conversation, but you’re too far to hear about what. Patrick is probably talking bad about you anyway. You turn to look away and back at the waves. Even though the party is outside, it suddenly feels too claustrophobic to any longer be enjoyable.

----

You’ve been walking around the estate for the past ten minutes to get rid of the feeling. It’s a bit chilly, but is nice enough to just wander around aimlessly. “Hey!” you hear a woman’s voice call out in the distance followed by your name. You turn to see Tashi Duncan walking towards you. Now this had to be the most surprising part of that night. You give a small smile and wave as she gets closer.

Once she’s standing by you she says, “I didn’t know you came.” And you didn’t expect her to know who you were so you were both surprised. You shrug and say, “Well thought I would stop by.”

“It’s nice right,” she comments as she begins to walk and looks out at the water in the distance. You nod in response and get the feeling that she wants you to walk alongside her, so you do. “Yeah…You look nice,” you tell her, unsure what else to say, “Thanks. You do too,” she says with another smile as she looks at you. You know she’s just returning the compliment for the sake of it, but you smile in response anyway. After a moment she says, “I actually wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh?” you respond, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. This whole day feels like one long fever drink. “I’m going to Stanford too,” she explains. “You’re one of the names they mentioned when I committed.” You nod in response. You have a vague memory of a Stanford representative emailing you with a list of others who were going to play alongside you, but you didn’t really take the time to go through it. As long as you had your full ride, you couldn’t care less. Before you can respond, she speaks again. “Thought maybe I could get your number or email, so we could talk. You know, get to know each other.”

“Oh...yeah...of course” you say a little awkwardly. You say your number and then add on “My email is just my full name at Gmail dot com” She nods with a smile, but before either of you say anything else, something catches Tashi’s eye. Then you see her waving to someone in the distance. Your eyes follow her gaze to Patrick and Art on a bench. They knew each other? All you wanted to do was run in the other direction. She starts to walk towards them, and you trail behind her, feeling too awkward to walk away. Patrick’s eyes lock on you for a moment, a flicker of surprise on his face. Art just smiles seeing both of you walk over.

As soon as you both are close enough, Art begins talking but you’re unable to pay attention. You find your eyes downcast, as all three of them engage in a conversation. You feel unbearably warm even though the night air is chilly. Your eyes glance at Patrick and then dart away. You feel both the urge to step closer to him and walk away.

Suddenly they all get up and start to walk, but you’re still standing there. Tashi turns around and calls your name. You look up and hear her add, “You coming?” All three of them look at you waiting for an answer, but you lock eyes with Patrick who’s jaw seems to tick as soon as you do. Your gaze goes back to Tashi. “Sorry, yeah,” you say as you walk to them.

----

Once again you find yourself completely zoning out while the rest of them are engaged in some conversation. It’s like you’re not even there. You sit on a rock by the water, reaching your hand down to feel it. You don’t even bother looking at the direction of the rest of them, knowing your eyes would lock in on Patrick again.

“What do you think?” you hear Tashi ask as she turns to face you. You turn to her, your face blank, having no clue what they were talking about. Once she registers the confusion, she adds “About tennis being a relationship?”

You’re not even given a chance to respond before Patrick goes, “Looks like it’s someone’s bed time.” No one is amused by the comment. Art looks at his cigarette and Tashi rolls her eyes at him. Thankfully, when Tashi turns back to you, waiting for an answer, you realize Patrick’s comment has provided you with a way out of this. “Yeah…I’m feeling a bit tired…I should probably get back to the hotel,” you say as you stand up.

Tashi’s lips press together as she looks at you, you assume she is judging you, so you look away and brush some sand off your dress. “Oh” Art says as he looks at you, with a little nod. Patrick gives Art a look from the side of his eye, but then looks at you as he brings a cigarette up to his lips.

“Yeah…I’m leaving tomorrow so...” your voice trails off as you say it, not really sure why you added that part. You doubt that any of them care.

“See you at school,” Tashi then says.

You give her a wave and a small smile back, as you walk away from the three of them on the beach.

----

You’re unable to sleep. It’s around one am. Your parents are fast asleep on their side of the hotel room, but you're too restless to do so. You pick up your phone and see a few new messages.

Patrick: That was the same dress you wore for the formal in sophomore year. I can’t believe you still have it. (sent 1:07 AM, 07/24/06)

You can hear his voice when you read it. You can imagine the little laugh after he says it. You then see there is one more message.

Patrick: You looked cute. Wish I could have fucked you in it. (sent 1:08 AM, 07/24/06)

You roll your eyes but find yourself smiling anyway.

You: Night Patrick (sent 1:10 AM, 07/24/06)

Patrick: Night ;) (sent 1:10 AM, 07/24/06)

----

The rest of your summer was spent messaging Tashi. She wasn’t lying when she said she wanted to get to know you. You got an email from her as soon as you got home from the open, and soon that turned into exchanging messages everyday with each other. Your conversations ranged from tennis to other things, like about your family and your other interests. It was new to have someone so interested in you. You had to admit, it was a nice feeling, even if you didn’t understand where it came from.

Tashi: You know you never talk about the academy. (sent 2:45 PM, 08/09/06)

You: Don’t have much to say. (sent 2:45 PM, 08/09/06)

Tashi: Really? (sent 2:46 PM, 08/09/06)

You don’t want to rehash your time there. You don’t want to think about that. And you especially don’t want to think about Patrick either. After that day at the junior open, you only heard from him once, through a message asking how your summer has been. He sent no response when you said fine and asked how he had been. You’re not even sure why you were talking about the academy with Tashi. Why did she suddenly seem interested?

You: I just didn’t have a great time there. Just didn’t have many friends. (sent 2:50 PM, 08/09/06)

A safe response. Enough of an explanation, without any details.

Tashi: Oh (sent 2:51 PM, 08/09/06)

You: Being the poor scholarship kid and stuff. (sent 2:52 PM, 08/09/06)

You decide to add on for good measure.

Tashi: Oh yeah, it makes sense. It’ll make a great story when you go pro tho. Who doesn’t love an underdog. (sent 2:55 PM, 08/09/06)

Somehow Tashi is under the impression that you will eventually go pro. You’re not exactly sure when or how this assumption formed, but she mentions it so casually you don’t want to tell her that you’re unsure about this.

You: True. (sent 2:56 PM, 08/09/06)

You stare at your phone and then quickly send another message.

You: You’re curious about the academy? (sent 2:56 PM, 08/09/06)

Tashi: I was talking about it with Patrick. (sent 2:57 PM, 08/09/06)

You feel your heart drop as you look at the message. You didn’t know they still talked. With Art it would make sense. Another person she’d see around at Stanford, but Patrick? Why was she talking to Patrick?

You: Patrick? (sent 2:57 PM, 08/09/06)

Tashi: We’re kind of going out. (sent 2:57 PM, 08/09/06)

You read the message over again. And then again. They were going out with each other? You feel a weird knot form in your chest. She was going out with Patrick. The same Patrick who bullied you all throughout school? The same Patrick you spent over a year hooking up with you in private? You bite the inside of your cheek as you type back a response.

You: Oh I didn’t know. (sent 2:58 PM, 08/09/06)

Tashi: It’s a long story. (sent 2:58 PM, 08/09/06)

Before you can even send a message back, you get a call from her. She spends the next hour explaining everything. The hotel room. The kiss. The deal. And then the boys’ final. Patrick won her number fair and square. Shortly after she and Patrick went out and then slept together. The knot in your chest only grows as you hear her speak. You do your best to ignore it.

“That's…that’s a lot,” you say, unsure how to even process anything she just said.

“I know,” she says on the other end. She exhales, and then asks, “Anyway, did you buy a fan for your dorm?”

----

“Let’s grab dinner?” Tashi asks as she walks from the court towards you, Art trailing behind her as he wipes his forehead with a towel.

You nod as you grab your backpack. “Yeah let’s go,” you respond.

“Let me change and then we’ll head out,” Tashi says, as she heads into the locker room. Tashi always practiced later than everyone else, a true testament to her passion. Everyone else finished and left an hour ago. Only you and Art stayed back with her, and now you both were the only ones on the court.

Transitioning into college life was easy enough. All that time spent messaging Tashi meant coming into college with a friend. Your classes were interesting and you did well. You became friends with others on the tennis team, although most of your time was spent with Tashi and Art. He always seemed to be following the both of you around, which would have been strange if you didn’t know about the fact he was into Tashi. The fact she was dating Patrick, seemed to have no effect on his attraction.

Your stomach grumbles, and Art hears. He smiles and asks, “Hungry?” You let out a laugh in response and ask, “What gave it away?”

He laughs in response and then he looks at you as if studying his expression for a moment. His face becomes slightly serious and you know he has something to say. “What is it?” you ask. “Nothing,” he says with a shrug, feigning a nonchalance you both know doesn’t exist. “Art,” your voice is more serious now too.

This was bound to happen. You always knew that he would eventually visit them. He was dating Tashi and Art is his best friend. Of course he would come. The thought makes your stomach flip and you bite down on your back teeth.

Your inability to conceptualize Art and Patrick’s friendship, was a large part in why you were able to become friends with Art. But in moments like this, the only thing you could see when you looked at him, was Patrick Zweig’s best friend. Consumed in your thoughts, you say nothing in response. You only even register the silence, when you hear Art say “I should go change too before we go eat.” You nod and watch him walk away.

----

“So Art told you?” Tashi asks from across the bed as she looks up at you from the calculus homework you’re both trying to work through. She doesn’t have to say what she is talking about, you already know what. “Yeah,” you say, still looking at your work.

“I was going to tell you,” she says, with a little shrug, still looking at you. “Is it a big deal?”

“It’s not,” you respond quickly as you try to focus on the problem.

“No I think it is,” she says with a little huff, which causes you to look up from the work. “You act so weird whenever he’s brought up.” You just shrug in response and it’s almost ironic how much you’re proving her point right now. You look back down at the graphs on your paper “He acts like this too,” she then says. Now that gets your attention. You look up again and ask, “He does?”

“Like anytime you come up in conversation he gets weird,” she says with a shrug. They’ve talked about you before? Before you have the chance to process this revelation, she says, “And you both act strange around each other”

“You’ve only ever seen us interact once,” you say with a forced laugh, looking down at the paper again and remembering that night on the beach. “Yeah I know, but still,” she says with a shrug. Then she asks, “Did something happen between the two of you at the academy?”

The right answer to this question: Too much to discuss right now. You just shrug again and say, “We didn’t get along”

Tashi just nods as she mulls over your response. Before she can find some flaw in your answer to probe at, you decide to change the subject by asking, “Did you figure out question 3?”

----

The day Patrick comes to Stanford is a Friday. You go to class, then to practice, and everything is normal until you get a text from Art around seven pm.

Art: He’s here. Meet in my dorm in a half hour? (sent 6:58 PM, 09/15/06)

You: See you then (sent 6:59 PM, 09/15/06)

Tashi had already told you how she wanted all of you to go out together when Patrick came, so you more or less expected a text like this. Even with the expectation, your chest has knots and your stomach flips. You pick at the skin of your cuticles as you walk back to your dorm and once you get there you sit down on the bed trying to create some expectation for the night. Your mind is blank, and you realize you should probably get ready.

You grab some jeans and a nice top, throw it on and then take a look at yourself in the mirror, fixing your hair. A part of you hates yourself for caring how you look right now. But it’s not large enough to stop you from putting on lipstick and eyeliner. You take one last look at yourself before heading out.

When you get to Art’s dorm, you realize you’re the first one to arrive. “Hey,” he says with a smile sitting on the edge of his bed. You walk over with a smile and sit down next to him. You’re about to greet him when your eyes fixate on the picture of him and Patrick on his bedside table. It looks like it was taken about the junior open, with both of them holding the trophy they won. He follows your gaze to it, and you both look at it for a moment. “I actually…” he starts and you turn to him. “I wanted to talk to you about—”

“And here I was thinking that I was early.” Both of you look to the door and see Patrick standing there. There is a flash of annoyance on his face, but it’s quickly covered up with a laugh and a raised eyebrow. Art just looks at Patrick, a mild look of disappointment on his face. “What a warm welcome,” Patrick says sarcastically, which causes the icy look on Art’s face to slowly disappear, a small smile forming instead. Patrick looks at you and you feel your heartbeat speed up just from the look. You think he’s about to pull out one of the insulting nicknames he coined for you at the academy. “Let’s go?” you hear Tashi ask as she walks into the room too. Patrick smiles at her and wraps a hand around her waist. You bite the inside of your cheek. You nod in response, as you walk towards the door. You don’t let yourself look at Patrick, even though you feel his gaze on you. You tell yourself you imagined it.

----

Tashi picked out this bar by campus to go to. As a place that doesn’t check IDs and has cheap drinks. Naturally, it’s full of students. You’re two drinks in and feel slightly drunk. You’re sitting at the bar sipping on your third, talking to some girl from your French literature class. Whatever you said must have been funny, because she is laughing. You laugh with her, before someone taps her on the shoulder and her attention is pulled elsewhere. You look down at your drink as you take another sip. “Looks like someone has friends now.” You turn to see Patrick taking the seat next to you at the bar, he already has a drink in his hand. His voice is playfully teasing and he has a grin on his face. The same expression he’d make when he would hand back a racket of yours he just broke or look up at you from in between your legs. “Well I guess people like me now,” you say, your inhibitions lowered by the alcohol. It’s the first real conversation you had with him all night and you want it to be over already. Your heart beat picks up again. He lets out a little laugh at your response, finding your retort amusing. He’s close enough that you can get the scent of the marlboro reds he smokes and his cologne. His eyes flick from your eyes to your lips and then to your eyes again.

“Didn’t realize you were so close with Tashi,” he then pauses and then in a little more serious voice adds, “Art now too.” You just blink at him in response. You see his jaw tick again, and this along with the change in tone sets off a signal in your head and you sit up a bit straighter as you look at him. You don’t have the chance to get a word as Patrick continues, “I don’t know what the fuck is going on between you and Art, but it ends here okay.” His voice is serious and so is his gaze. He leans in a bit more and his nose bumps yours. It feels as if his stare is burning holes through your head. You were used to Patrick being mean, but this was different. For starters, he was never that rude to you in private after the locker room incident that started your little relationship. And his treatment usually served to mock or humiliate you in some way. This felt as if was putting his foot down about something. “Okay?” he asks again due to your silence. Your heartbeat speeds up even more.

“Okay,” you repeat in a small voice, feeling like a child who is being reprimanded for something. He doesn’t like that you’re friends with Art?

He looks at you as if analyzing your expression. He remains close and his eyes flick down to your lips. For a moment you think he’s going to kiss you. Or drag you to the bar bathroom for a quick fuck. He then just huffs, as he steps back and takes a sip of the drink in his hand. You instantly feel stupid for your previous thoughts. He is dating Tashi. Tashi who is a literal goddess on earth. There is no reason for him to want you anymore. Whatever happened in school is over. The incident at the open was just a weird epilogue. But now it is done.

“You should stop doing that,” he says. You realize his gaze is now directed at your hands. He makes a little motion to where you’ve picked off the skin by your cuticles. “It’s not good for you.” he says, still looking at it. His gaze comes back to you and the minute you both make eye contact he looks away. He looks across the bar and he must see either Tashi or Art because he smiles in that direction and walks away, leaving you alone with your thoughts and your drink.

----

Your head is throbbing and you feel nauseous just thinking about the hangover you’ll probably have tomorrow morning. You can’t remember the last time you were this drunk. Have you ever been this drunk? You can’t even remember how much you had to drink at this point. You manage to stumble out of the bar and the fresh air is so refreshing you smile. It’s a 10 minute walk back to your dorm, you’re sure you can make it. You move slowly, and as you pass by the alleyway by the bar you see Art and Patrick sharing a cigarette. They’re far enough and too immersed in their conversation to see you.

“I can’t believe we’re still talking about this,” you hear Patrick say with a scoff.

“I don’t get why you think it’s such a big deal,” Art responds.

This draws out a laugh from “No you know why I think it’s a big deal, and honestly man thought you were over this.” Patrick says as he takes the cigarette Art is holding and takes a drag. “Aren’t you into Tashi now."

Art scoffs and looks to the side. “Jesus Patrick.” This just makes Patrick laugh. “This is not about Tashi, this is about—”

Patrick cuts him off and goes, “A girl who is and has always been a pathetic loser.” It’s then you realize that the person they’re talking about is you.

Art sighs and takes the cigarette back with a sigh. “I like her.” As his words sink in, your earlier conversation with Patrick makes a lot more sense. It’s too dizzying to think about, and it makes you feel even more exhausted than you already are. You look at the road ahead of you and continue stumbling your way back to the dorm.

----

You spent the rest of the weekend Patrick was on campus in your dorm room. You woke up with an awful hangover and messages from all three of them. Tashi and Art were just about how they didn’t see you leave and asking if you got back to the dorm fine, Patrick’s was something different all together.

Patrick: Don’t forget what we talked about. (sent 9:38 AM, 09/16/06)

You don't respond to him. You wouldn’t even know how if you wanted to. You texted Art and Tashi that you were all fine, just miserably hung over.

Tashi: Want to grab breakfast? (sent 9:45 AM, 09/16/06)

You: Think I want to sleep for some more time. (sent 9:46 AM, 09/16/06)

Until Monday, hanging out with them meant hanging out with Patrick, and that was the last thing you wanted to do. So you told you you just wanted to lie down because of the hangover. Then when she asked if you wanted to hang out again in the evening, you lied about needing to finish a paper for the literature seminar you were taking. After that she must have got the hint, because she left you alone for the rest of the weekend. The next time you saw her or Art was on Monday during tennis practice. No Patrick in sight.

----

Whoever said out of sight, out of mind, was a liar. You desperately wanted things to go back to normal after that weekend, but that ease you felt during your first month at Stanford never fully returned after Patrick’s visit. It’s been a couple weeks since then and Patrick still plagued your thoughts.

Whatever friendship that had formed between you and Art was quickly dying. You couldn’t even look at him without alarm bells in your head going: Walk away! Walk away! Patrick’s words echoed in your ears anytime you looked at him. The distance you had created between Art and Patrick was gone, and when you looked at Art you now could only see Patrick’s best friend staring back. You avoided being alone with him at all costs.

Art: Want to grab breakfast together before class tomorrow? (sent 8:27 PM, 10/02/06)

You: I’ll let you know in the morning! (sent 8:28 PM, 10/02/06)

You’d probably lie about sleeping in or fake some illness to get out of that.

“Is that Art?” Tashi asks from across the bed. You nod and lie, “Just a question about practice.” She nods in response, as she looks back at the homework both of you are working through together. Patrick may have destroyed your friendship with Art, butyour friendship with Tashi was fine.

Although it had become increasingly difficult to avoid the fact she was dating Patrick. After his visit, you could find traces of him all around her room. You can see the little note he left that she pinned to her bulletin board, and as you looked down at your book on the bed, it hit you that Patrick had slept on the bed you currently sit on. That he and Tashi probably had sex there. It makes you feel nauseous and aroused at the same time. You make a mental note to invite Tashi to your dorm room to study next time.

Not to mention, that brief moment you thought something was going to happen between you and Patrick at the bar. The drunken embarrassment you felt at that moment, has turned into sober shame. If Patrick had tried to make a move, you had a sinking feeling that you wouldn’t have stopped it. On the contrary, you probably would have enjoyed it and what type of person does that make you? Nothing had happened but this enough made you feel guilty. Maybe it was for the best that you didn’t have many close friends, so far you were awful at being one.

“You know he likes you, right?” Tashi says with a giggle and draws you out of your thoughts. “Huh?” is all you manage to say back, your mind still not fully present. “Art.” she says with another laugh.

You’re reminded of the conversation you overheard between Art and Patrick behind the bar. It feels more like an alcohol induced hallucination than an actual memory. Even though you heard Art say it, you couldn’t wrap your head around the idea that he liked you. You were hundred percent convinced he still liked Tashi. Always ready to spend time with her and looking at her like she hung the moon in the sky. It was obvious he still liked her. There was the possibility he liked you both, but that felt improbable. Why would he like you both? At the end of the day, it didn’t even matter. You weren’t going to do anything about it.

“Tashi he’s a friend,” you say with a little laugh, hoping that your answer is enough to drop the subject. It isn’t as she just lets out another laugh and goes “What? I'm right.” You sigh and say, “Have you forgotten about what happened in the hotel room?” Tashi rolls her eyes, and makes a dismissive hand wave, “That was months ago.” She doesn’t make any claim to deny that he’s into her, so even she’s aware of it. You just force a laugh in response, which causes Tashi to laugh too. Her laugh elicits an actual laugh from you, and you both sit there like that laughing for a moment. By the time you’re both done, it seems like the topic of Art is no longer on her mind, and you’re beyond grateful for that.

----

You thought that would be the end of that topic, but the next day, as you walk outside the locker room after practice you hear Art and Tashi talking about it. The hallway is curved, but you’re close enough to hear and see them without being overtly visible. You’re sure if they looked in your direction and took a step or two, they’d be able to see you, but neither do.

“I think you should just tell her,” Tashi says, Art just sighs looking to the side. “You’re making this way more complicated than it has to be, and now everything is all awkward. She can barely look at you during practice,” she adds on. “It’s a stupid distraction for both of you, just get over it.”

Art looks at Tashi and goes, “It’s way more complicated than that.” Tashi looks at him with her eyebrows slightly furrowed and an expression that says she doesn’t believe him, Art just adds on, “You weren’t there at the academy. You wouldn’t get it.”

You feel your heart drop at those words. You need to stop the conversation before it can go any further, so you don’t think twice about walking. You wave and Tashi sees you before she can respond.

“Let’s go eat?” you ask.

Art nods and Tashi replies, “Sure.”

You smile in relief as you all walk to the dining hall in silence.

----

“You’re never going to talk about what happened at the academy are you?” Tashi says later that day as you both walk over to the cinema by campus. You decided to have a movie night, but as you look at her it’s clear that’s the last thing on her mind. You shrug as you continue to walk, “I told you already. It wasn’t fun.” Tashi nods and then says, “But something happened right?” You shrug in response and she looks in front again. For a brief moment you consider telling her everything. Why were you keeping it a secret in the first place? She gets a phone call. She pulls it out and you see it’s from Patrick. Oh right. That’s why. You look away and take a deep breath to maintain composure.

Once you think your face has no emotion on it whatsoever, you look back and tell her, “You take it. I’ll go buy tickets.” She looks at you to check if you’re sure, and you nod. Tashi walks away and you force a little smile as she walks a few steps away to take the call. You stand by the ticket booth outside and get two tickets for the movie Tashi mentioned. You turn and look over to where she is talking on the phone to Patrick and it’s clear she has an unhappy expression on her face. Boredom? Annoyance? Something like a mix of the two. She huffs and you see her walking back towards you.

You offer a small smile and once she’s close enough you ask, “Everything alright?” She lets out a dry laugh and takes a ticket from your hand, She walks in and you follow alongside her, as she says “Patrick called to complain…again.” You feel your stomach do a flip and it’s clear that she has more to say. It’s utterly pathetic how curious you feel. You remain silent as she continues. “He lost another match today.” She scoffs and shakes her head. “I don’t even know why he calls to tell me this shit, anytime I try to offer him something constructive he starts acting like I’m being a bitch.” Her voice shows she is annoyed, you nod in response. “It’s like he doesn’t even care,” she says and you’re unsure if she’s talking about Patrick’s attitude towards tennis or her.

“Sorry,” you say softly to make her feel better. She just sighs, shaking her head, “Don’t apologize” She then smiles looking at you, “Anyway, you actually take my advice.” True. Tashi always had pointers. Small things she’d notice you thought you could improve. You knew you weren’t a perfect player, but compared to the insults you got from your classmates during your time at the academy, her comments were actual feedback. And ones that paid off. Even your coaches know you’ve been playing better. You’re not surprised Patrick wasn’t listening. Never the one to see his own faults. You could understand why Tashi was annoyed.

You smile back in response to her with a little shrug. “Too bad you’re going to be a star player. You would have made one hell of a coach,” you joke to lighten the mood and change the subject. Tashi laughs too and then sighs, “Anyway he just called for that and to say he’s coming in two week for a visit,” she says as you both walk into where the movie is playing. You’re grateful the darkness of the room makes it near impossible for her to see your face because you can feel your face drop at her words.

----

You’re a tennis player, you’re allowed to look at ATP rankings, you remind yourself as you sit in front of the computer in the library. After the night at the movies a couple days ago, your thoughts about Patrick became debilitating. Just thinking about the fact that he’d be back on campus so soon made you feel dizzy to think about.

You originally came to the library to use the computer to search up some facts about an author. It was research for an essay you have to write for your literature of the twentieth century class. Even as you tried to focus on the information in front of you, your mind went back to Patrick. So here you were, scrolling down the list of players on the ATP rankings website to find his name. Your eyes dart around you a little bit, as if to check no one can see. What is wrong with you? You were acting like a child. It takes you sometime, but you finally find Patrick’s stats. He’s low in the rankings, which was somewhat expected considering he just started going on tour, but like Tashi said he was losing games.

“Hey,” you hear from behind you. You nearly jump as you close the ATP tab and turn around to see Art standing behind you. Why were you even surprised at this point? “Sorry didn’t mean to startle you,” he says with a small, yet forced smile, as his eyes dart from in between the screen to you. Did he see the ATP tab you just closed out? You force a little laugh, “I should buy you a bell for your birthday.” It’s a joke and he lets out a little laugh, as he pulls out the seat next to you and sits down.

“So…” you start. He must have finally realized that the only way to talk to you alone, was by sneaking up on you. And well now you were effectively trapped, so you had to hear whatever he desperately wanted to say. You had a feeling it had to do about his supposed feelings for you, but you just wanted to get this over with. Patrick’s words repeat in your head and you do your best to keep a straight face.

Art looks at you and shrugs, “I wanted to talk about…” You just blink as he is unable to finish his sentence. He sighs and then says, “I know why it’s awkward between us.” You brace yourself with a little nod. “It’s because of the bullying.”

You look at him blank for a moment. His answer confuses you, mostly because he never actually did anything to you. He was a bystander at best. Before you can respond he continues. “It’s been weird ever since Patrick came, and honestly it makes sense,” he pauses. “I guess it must have brought up some bad memories.” Well it did bring up memories. Some bad (him destroying your possessions, the names he teased you with) and some good (him eating you out, riding him in the back of his car). All intense. You just nod in response, curious to where this is going. “I know…I should have done more back.”

“You didn’t–” you start but are cut off before you finish. “No, don't try to brush it off,” he says. “Patrick is my best friend, but he was an asshole to you. I’m sorry I never said anything to stop it.” You look at him for a little moment. An apology was the last thing you expected right now. You don’t even know how to respond. Luckily you don’t have to, you see his lips part slightly and you realize he isn’t done. In a small, vulnerable voice he adds, “If I could back and change things. I would.” He pauses and then adds,”It just…can be hard to say no to him.” Now that you understood, more than you could ever let Art know. “Yeah…Yeah I get that.” you whisper with a little nod. You both sit in the silence for a library for a moment, a sense of mutual understanding forming between both of you.

He’s the first to break the silence by saying your name in the same quiet voice “Honestly, I really like you.” The conversation has headed in the direction you originally expected, except after everything he said before you feel too tired to discuss this now. You don’t want to talk about this now. “Art…” you start, with your voice trailing off. “I like you,” he says again, “I just never acted on it because of well…you know.” You just stare at him, looking to the side and then back at him. “But Tashi?” you ask in a small voice. It’s not like you really care about his feelings for Tashi. That’s the most logical part of all of this, but you feel the need to ask anyway. Pure curiosity more than anything else. “I liked Tashi,” he says slowly, but his voice falters slightly when he says liked. As if he couldn’t decide between using the present or the past tense. He continues, “but I like you. I have since junior year.” You hate how your mind instantly goes to Patrick, but how could it not? That was when your relationship with him started. Art has liked you since then too?

“I was thinking I could take you out?” he asks. No No No NO, a voice in your brain says. You shift in your seat, and it’s clear that Art has picked up on some discomfort. “Like dinner or a movie,” he adds. You look at him. You remember what Patrick said and take a deep breath as you try to think of the nicest way to let him down. Art’s jaw ticks at this and he then sighs. “If you don’t want to go out with me because you don’t like me, that’s fine. But please don’t say no because of the past,” he then says looking at you. Before you can respond, he stands up and with a shrug says, “Just think about it.” He walks away, and you turn back to the computer screen open to an article on the works of Laurence Durrell. You exit out of it as you gather your things. This paper was now the least of your worries.

----

Since you got back to your dorm from the library, you’ve been laying down on your bed staring at the ceiling. Patrick’s voice remains in your head, but so does Art’s. Don’t say no because of the past. Isn’t that what you were doing? The entirety of your time at the academy was dictated by Patrick in one way or another. Maybe it was just a habit at this point to let him do so, but Patrick wasn’t here and the academy was the past. You had no reason to do what he said. Regardles, for some reason going out with Art still felt like a betrayal. Naturally, going against what Patrick said to do would be a betrayal to him, but this felt like a betrayal to yourself. It was a new feeling. Never once did you feel it with Patrick, but shouldn't sleeping with your bully feellike a bigger betrayal to yourself than going on a date with a bystander to it?

You reach for the phone on your side table. You slowly type out the message on your small flip phone, and then click send.

You: So when do you want to go out? (sent 9:10 PM, 10/05/06)

He responds after a minute.

Art: How does tomorrow night sound? (sent 9:11 PM, 10/05/06)

----

“I don’t understand what you have against the sequels,” Art says with a laugh as you walk down the dorm hallway. You both had decided to get dinner together. It was easy to talk to him and it felt like you were transported back to those first couple weeks at Stanford before Patrick’s visit when there was no awkwardness between you two. You were anxious about the date. With Patrick, everytime you met up it was about hooking up, nothing more, so this was your first ever actual date. Now that it’s done, and you both walk back to your dorm rooms, you can’t ever remember why you felt like it wouldn’t go well. Art is sweet. Art likes you. It all went fine.

“I have nothing against them,” you respond, “I just prefer the original Star Wars movies.” You say as you reach the door to his dorm room. Art stands beside you as he shrugs. “Okay fair,” he says with a smile. He swallows and then looks at his dorm and then yours. Your dorm is in a different building, but you wanted to walk with Art to his anyway because it was first on the route back. “Do you want to come inside?” he asks, looking intently. You look at him without saying anything for a moment, as you register the look. His expression asks: Do you want to have sex?

You couldn’t deny that Art was handsome. With his smile and golden curls, he looked like what you’d imagine if Prince Charming walked out of a fairy tale and decided he wanted to play tennis. The betrayed feeling from earlier gnaws at you, but you decide to nod with a small smile anyway. The last time you had sex was with Patrick the day before you graduated from the academy in the back of his car. That was months ago. You needed a release.

Art smiles as he reaches for the key to open the door to his room. He unlocks it and opens the door for you. You walk in and take a look around the dorm room you’ve already been in plenty of times. When you hear the door close around, you turn around to face Art, whose lips automatically come down on yours. His tongue snakes his way into your mouth, but the kiss is still gentle. Much more gentle than anything with Patrick. You move your hands to his shoulders to push Patrick out of your brain and focus on Art in the present. You feel his hands reach down to the buttons of your blouse as you continue to kiss, removing one by one, and then pushing it off to the floor. He pulls away and takes a look at you in the lace bra, with a smile and a lustful gaze. You smile back, as he pulls off his shirt and reaches down to unzip his jeans. You follow his lead and unzip yours as well, before slowly kicking them off. Then your hands move to unclasp your bra and let it fall to the floor.

He smiles at the sight and leans in to kiss you again. While still kissing, you both stumble backwards over to the bed, you falling down on it and he on top of you. He pulls away from your lips to trail kisses down your neck to your breast. His tongue circled one of your nipples, and you gasped at the wet and pleasant sensation. You felt your hands move to his hair as he continued doing so, gently tugging on it as you rocked your core against his groin. Only the thin cloth of your panties and his boxers remained as a barrier between the both of you. He groaned at the sensation. You felt the vibration of it briefly on your breast, but he soon pulled away and started trailing down even lower.

He kissed down your body murmuring how pretty you were, until he was stationed between your legs. He looked up at you, and you looked down at him with half lidded eyes. He sat on his knees then as he reached to pull down your panties. He tosses them to the side of the bed, and once again he gets back in between your legs. You feel him plant kisses against your core. You whine at the sensation, enough touch to tease, but not to really please you. Hearing your want, Art’s tongue darts out in between your folds, which quickly turn your whines into moans. You felt his tongue encircle your clit, and a finger tease your cunt. While he started out slow, his pace picked up. Always maintaining a steady rhythm. Each movement of his tongue felt controlled and deliberate, a stark contrast to the messy way Patrick would eat you out. The minute the thought comes into your head. You force your eyes open to look down at Art, to ground yourself in the moment. You see his gaze is already on you, and as you make eye contact, he slowly starts to speed up. He pushes another finger inside you and you gasp. HIs free hand is splayed on your thigh, holding it down. All together, these draw out your orgasm.

As you feel the vibrations through your body, he slowly pulls himself up and plants another kiss against your lips. You can taste yourself on him as he kisses you gently again. “I want you,” he murmurs against your lips, “so badly right now.” You smile at him and whisper back, “okay.” He smiles at your words and sits up as he reaches to the corner table, “I should have a condom in here.” You nod as he pulls open the drawer and finds one. He puts it to the side as he pulls down his boxers and you take a moment just to look at him naked. He rips open the condom packet and you watch him pull it over his cock. It’s the same shade as the rest of his skin, with his tip a subtle pink shade, a little bit longer but not as thick as…You turn your head to the side to prevent yourself from finishing the comparison. Focus on Art, you tell yourself.

The minute it’s on he climbs over you again, and you lay back down. He aligns himself with you, and slowly pushes himself in. He goes inch by inch, and you can feel himself throb even through the condom barrier. Once he is bottomed out, he puts his hands on the side of your head, and he starts to thrust. Just like when he ate you out, he moves at a steady pace, slow at first but slowly picking up speed. You feel the comparison forming in your head, and you bite down on your lip to prevent yourself from making it. You bite down so hard that you taste blood. Art takes this as a sign you want to be kissed, and you feel his lips come down on you again. Although his movements remain gentle, he’s big enough that you still feel it completely. You kiss as he continues to thrust. “God..” he grunts head going up, “You’re so fucking tight.” He says as he continues to thrust, speed picking up again once more. You moan at the feeling. “G..Gonna turn you around,” he says, and you nod as he feels your hand move you from laying down on your back to laying down your stomach. He feels even deeper now, and you feel yourself get closer.

That’s when you see it. Your eyes are half lidded, but open enough to see the picture of Art and Patrick on the bedside table. You squint at it to get a better look, as Art continues to thrust into you with heavy pants. You feel your breathing get shallower as your eyes focus in on the picture. It looks like it’s from after they won the doubles championship at the junior open. Your eyes lock in on Patrick smiling for the snap, and that’s what pushes yourself over the edge. You feel yourself clench and then your orgasm hits you. You close your eyes as you feel it wash over you. Art pushes into you a couple more times and then lets out a grunts as he cums as well. You feel him pull out and fall beside where you lie on the bed. When your eyes finally open again you look again at the picture of both boys and sigh.

----

You probably should have stopped sleeping with Art after that first time, but the sex provided an outlet for all your anxious energy, and that just made your life easier. You met up in the evenings after practice and pretty much always in his dorm (for reasons you do not want to acknowledge). He took you out a couple times too, but there was no label for the relationship. The only person who knew about what was going on between the two of you was Tashi, who you told after the first time it happened.

“You two should just start going out with each other,” she told you one day as you grabbed lunch. “You guys go on dates and sleep together anyway.” You shrugged her off. He tried to bring it up once in bed too, but you ended the conversation by going down on him. You liked this weird gray area both of you were in. It felt comfortable. It felt safe.

----

You sit on the bleachers picking at the skin by your cuticles. With all the time you were spending with Art, the two weeks snuck up on you. Patrick was back. Tashi went into the locker room to change, so it’s just you watching Art and Patrick casually playing a match on the court in front of you. He was supposed to arrive in the evening, not in the afternoon. You had been dreading his visit since the moment you found out, so you planned in advance. After practice, you were going to tell Art and Tashi you had another paper for your literary seminar, and lock yourself in your dorm for the rest of the weekend before Patrick even showed up. Of course this plan was ruined when Patrick showed up in the afternoon, right in the middle of the practice. Now here you are, counting the moments till you could leave while Patrick and Art played.

You feel your fingers sting where you picked at the skin, as you hear Patrick call your name. “C’mon one game? For old times sake.” His tone was mocking, as if he was trying to provoke you. You looked up at him as he walked towards where you sat on the bench, but said nothing. His eyes dart down to the picked skin on your finger. He grimaces at the sight, but says nothing. Quickly bringing a smirk back onto his face as he looked at you. “What? I’ve been told you’re good,” Patrick asks in the same mocking tone. Your ranking among college girls tennis players had gone up, which you knew was more than he could say about his ATP ranking. You just shrug in response. “So what, you're not going to play me?” he then asks.

“Seriously? Practice just ended. Let us have a break,” Art says in a not so subtle attempt to get Patrick to stop. He then offers you a smile.You’re not sure if it's a “Please forgive my asshole friend” smile or a “I’m glad I could stand up for you smile,” but either way you return it with a small smile of your own. Patrick notices, his eyes narrowing slightly and then returning to normal, before telling Art, “You just played with me.” He turns back to you and goes, “C’mon”

He has a shit eating grin on his face and you want to smack it off him, but as you feel all three of them look at you, you realize you’ve been silent this whole time. You just shrug, standing up with your racket. “Sure,” you say as you walk over to the court. His grin grows wider. It makes you wonder if this is a mistake.

You serve the ball, and he hits it. You run and hit it back. He does as well. The ball goes back and forth between the both of you, neither of you missing it. You’re not sure how long it goes on for, but it’s definitely sometime before it stops. You hit it to the corner of the court and before he can run to it, it bounces out. He lets out a sharp exhale as he watches it go.

“I’m gonna serve now,” he says to you, as he takes a ball. He looks at you as he gets ready to do his signature, unique serve, and just smirks. The minute you see it, you once again feel like this is a mistake. The feeling only intensifies when he serves and you miss the ball. He grabs another tennis ball and does it again. You miss. Your eyes dart to where Art watches by the bench and then at Patrick. Feeling more warm all of a sudden. Once more he serves. Again, Miss. You’re not sure how long this goes on for, but when he goes, “Sure you’re a tennis player?” you want nothing more than to get out of there. You walk straight to the bench and pick up your bag. Art looks at you, lips slightly parted as if he wants to say something, but you speak first. “I have a paper I need to finish.” It’s all you say before walking away from the court back in the direction of your dorm room.

You can hear the sound of Patrick laughing behind you, and you bite down on your jaw to prevent yourself from crying as you walk away.

----

You lay down in bed, your eyes still red and puffy. You broke down on the way back, but thankfully far enough from the courts that neither Art or Patrick could see. The crying didn’t stop when you got back to your dorm. Or after your shower. While it wasn’t pouring out of you anymore, tears would come back at random intervals.

While you weren’t actively crying at the moment, it felt like anything could bring the tears back. Your mind drifts back to his afternoon. Of course Patric chose to humiliate you, what else would he have done? You’re shaken out of your thoughts from someone banging on your door. Loud, forceful, and impatient bangs. You slowly sat up in bed, and looked over to it. Another thud. It was too forceful to be either Tashi or Art. Really, there was only one person who’d be this forceful. He was the last person you wanted to see, so you just stared at it. How did Patrick even find your dorm? Maybe if you waited long enough, he’d just leave. You sat for another minute, but the bangs just got louder. He wasn’t leaving and you realized if he kept banging you’re the one who was going to get a noise complaint. You sniffle one more time and wipe your cheeks with the back of your hand, as you walk over to the door. More thuds. You sigh and take one deep exhale, as you open the door.

Patrick is standing there with a scowl and furrowed brows. The minute he realizes the door opened, he pushes himself in and lets the door close behind him. “You’re fucking Art?” His voice is angry and although it comes out like a question, it’s clear he knows the answer. You realize Art must have told him about the two of you. You just stare up in silence, and this causes Patrick to scoff. “What part about our conversation last time made you think it was okay to suck his dick?” His voice is sarcastic and angry, as he takes another step towards you. He smells of a combination of sweat, cologne, and cigarettes. “Answer the question.”

“Get out of my room.” you say in a small voice. Patrick lets out a humorless laugh. “Answer the question,” he repeats. You look at him and feel tears well up again in your eyes. Wasn’t it enough that he humiliated you earlier today? Couldn’t he just leave you alone now? “Why do you care,” you retort with a sniffle. Once again he laughs. “Why do I care? Oh I don’t know, maybe it’s the fact that I turn my back for two minutes and you’re on my best friend’s dick,” he says it a bit louder and he’s so close that his nose bumps yours when he says it.

Your eyebrows furrow. His tone was angry and sarcastic, but above all it made it seem like you were doing something wrong. Something inside of you snaps at this. Your tone is a bit louder and more upset when you say, “So what?” Patrick laughs looking to the side, but you don’t give him the chance to speak. “I’m sorry that your best friend is into me” your voice taking a sarcastic tone. “But that’s not my fault. And I don’t know why you’re so upset about it, but grow the up and leave me the fuck alone.” He huffs and bites, “You know why I’m upset.” You bring your face closer to his, “Really? From where I’m standing, you’re just being an ass.” The tears which formed in your eyes roll down your cheek, and in an angry voice begins,“I told you to–”

“You do not get to tell me what to do!” you exclaim before he can even finish that statement. You swallow, as he just looks at you now slightly stunned at the outburst. “You do not get to tell me what to do,” you repeat in a still angry yet less loud tone. Both of you just stand there, and unsure what else to do, you decide to push him. Your hands go to his chest and then push him back. It’s a childish gesture, and you’re not exactly sure why you did it. Even he looks stunned at the sudden action. Once again you push him. And again. You do it until his back is up against the door of your dorm. You’re breathing much more heavily now and both of you are just staring at each other. Your hands raise up and you keep hitting him on the chest. For a brief moment it feels like you’re transported back to junior year in the locker room before winter break as you just punch his chest. That feeling only grows when you suddenly feel his lips against yours.

It's desperate and messy, but undoubtedly mutual. His tongue licks into your mouth as your hands go to the back of his neck. His hands grab your hips and spin you around, so now your back is against the door. You already know he’s hard, but you fully feel it as he grinds his erection against your core and you moan into his mouth in response. “Fuck” he mutters as his lips move from yours to your neck. You feel his teeth scratch against the skin there, but not enough to leave a mark. Whenever you slept together, he never left marks anywhere visible. His hands move to the underside of your thighs and he pins you up against the door. Your legs instinctively wrap against his waist, and once again he grinds against you, eliciting another moan from both of you. You feel his tongue lick up your cheek, and it takes you a second to realize he is licking up your tears. One of his hands moves up to paw at your tits over the tank you have on and you moan at the sensation. You feel your hands go down to his jeans zipper, and he lets out a chuckle at this, then his lips come crashing down against yours again.

Too lost in the kiss, it takes you a moment to realize he is moving you somewhere, but you soon realize he is carrying you away from the door. Soon you’re thrown onto the bed. His hands go to the zipper you somewhat removed, and he kicks off his jeans. He then goes to take his shirt. You take this as a sign to get naked as well. You kick off your shorts and pull off your tank. Without a bra on and already aroused, your nipples pebble instantly once exposed. Patrick licks his bottom lip and removes his boxers, the last bit of clothing he has on. You take in the sight you didn’t think you’d ever see again, as he crawls on top of you and presses another desperate kiss. His lips part from yours as he whispers, “No one else will make you feel like this.” Before you can respond, you gasp as you feel his hand knead your breast again. Now fully exposed you feel him pinch your nipple. He moves down with his tongue licking over the little bud he just pinched, replacing the jolt of pleasurable pain with just pure pleasure.

He gets back on his knees and grips the base of his cock, aligning himself with you. He pushes just the tip in. Close but not enough. You whine at the sensation. “What?” he asks with a smirll. He moves slightly as if he is going to fully pull out. “Please” you whine. “Please what?” He says, “You gotta use your words.” You whine again and he laughs, and you manage to say “fuck me..please.” He smiles again but doesn’t move. “Who’s the only person that can make you feel this way?” he asks. You look at him and breathlessly say, “you.” He smiles before pushing in fully, muttering, “Fuck I’ve missed this.”

----

From the time you met Patrick, you were sure he was going to hell when he died. Now you were fairly certain you’d also be down there with him. After you both fucked, Patrick left your dorm saying nothing. He put on his clothes and gave you one last look. You both locked eyes and for a moment, you were sure he was going to say something to you, but instead he just let out a deep exhale and walked out. You assumed he wanted to leave as quickly as possible. You felt a knot of guilt in your stomach, so was relieved he left in silence. Sometime after that, you fell asleep in the soiled sheets surrounded by his scent and his cum dripping out of you.

When you woke up the next morning, you sent a message to both Tashi and Art saying you were sick and needed to rest. Along with the fact Patrick was on campus, you knew this lie would guarantee that you’d be left alone for the rest of the weekend. Which was all you wanted. The knot in your stomach grew when you thought about either of them. You tried to occupy yourself in your room by showering, doing work, and reading, but your mind kept drifting back to Patrick. Even once you changed the bedsheets, you felt as if his scent lingered in your dorm. By Saturday night, you felt incapable of thinking about anything besides him and what had happened the night before.

As you laid in bed, you reached over to your phone to check the messages you had been ignoring all day. You had one from your mom just checking up on you, which you quickly responded by saying fine, and messages from Tashi and Art asking how you’re feeling. Both of which you ignored. Then you saw the message from Patrick.

Patrick: You’re still on birth control right? (sent 3:02 PM, 10/16/06)

It was sent a couple hours ago. You assumed some delayed sense of post-nut clarity must have reminded him that you both fucked raw last night.

You: Yes. (sent 8:58 PM, 10/16/06)

Patrick: Okay good. (sent 8:58 PM, 10/16/06)

After a minute or so, you got another message from Patrick.

Patrick: Art said you were feeling sick. (sent 8:59 PM, 10/16/06)

You should have ignored the message, but you found yourself responding before you could stop yourself.

You: Yes? (sent 9:00 PM, 10/16/06)

Patrick: Like for real? Or because… (sent 9:00 PM, 10/16/06)

Your eyes rolled at the screen.

You: What do you think? (sent 9:01 PM, 10/16/06)

Patrick: ;) (sent 9:01 PM, 10/16/06)

You read his response and sigh. You put your phone back down on the bed stand table and force yourself to sleep.

----

Although you originally planned to just hideaway for the weekend, you still felt miserable by the time Monday rolled around. You decided to play into the whole sickness thing, and isolate yourself for the next couple days. But by the time Thursday rolled around, you realized you had to get back to your life. You forced yourself to go to practice.

It had been a couple days since Patrick left the campus, but you still felt as if he could jump up from any corner. By the time you got to the courts, you saw Tashi was already playing and Art was watching her with an adoring smile.

You walked over slowly to where he was standing, and he noticed your presence once you were standing next to him. “Hey, Feeling better?” he asks, looking at you. You drop the bag full of your tennis equipment to your feet, and look up at him. The knot in your stomachreturns in full force and you just shrug in response. He nods in response, and you both turn back to look over at Tashi who is playing.

____

“I was thinking that if we win the championships this spring, it would be the perfect time to go pro,” Tashi says as she looks across the dining hall table where you both eat. After the events of Patrick’s last visit, there was a noticeable change in the air. While you knew this was because you fucked her boyfriend, she didn’t. You found reasons to hang out with her less because of it. Always making up some essay that needed to be finished. You felt grateful that when you did spend time with Tashi, she chose to talk about tennis. Although, you couldn’t deny the increased focus on your possible future in professional tennis was draining in its own way. “What do you think?” she asks.

You shrug in response. “I don’t know if I’m ready,” you respond. Tashi lets out a little laugh, raising an eyebrow, “You’re ready.” You shrug as you pick up a piece of fruit with your fork. “No really. You’re ready,” she repeats as if trying to drive the point. “You’re already in the top ten in college rankings, and if you win a couple more games, you would break into the top 5.”

You nod slowly in response as you munch on the fruit. “Yeah…but there’s more to it,” you say with a shrug. Tashi’s eyebrows raise in confusion. “I don’t have the money for that type of life,” you say. You’re not wrong, it’s not like you’d be able to afford to be on the road or pay a coach to help you train. Tashi shrugs, “You should get a sponsorship.” Her tone is casual, as if it’s the easiest thing there is. You’re not necessarily surprised by how nonchalant she is. She has an Adidas sponsorship already and considering how brilliant of a player she is, it probably was not her only offer. You just let out a laugh in response. “What?” Tashi starts again, “You’re a good player. You're cute. And you have a motivating story. You could easily get a sponsorship.”

You let out another small laugh, shaking your head and saying, “I think you think my story is way more motivating than it actually is.” Now Tashi laughs, “Everyone loves an underdog, and with everything that happened to you at the academy–”

You cut her off, “What?” Something about her words make you uneasy. She knows, you think. Tashi looks at you as if she’s been caught, “Well Art…said some people were really awful to you at the academy.”

Art? Art was telling her these things. He said some people? So he didn’t mention Patrick? What else did he mention? Before you can properly start to spiral about those thoughts, you sense someone behind you. Of course, it’s Art. He sits down in the seat next to you, puts his plate on the table. “What are you guys talking about?” he asks as his hand rests on your thigh. Ever since you started sleeping together, he’s been more open with touching you. Both in private and public. You feel slightly queasy when he does, but say nothing.

“Going pro,” you respond quickly to move the subject of the conversation back to the original focus. You hear Art make a hum sound in response and both he and Tashi slip into a conversation about professional tennis.

You take a sip of your gatorade, as you just watch the two of them, not at all paying attention to the conversation. Art was talking about your time at the academy with Tashi, but why? Did she bring it up? Or did he? What reason could he have to talk about it with her? You’re lost in thought when you see Art turn and give you a small smile. You give him one back.

-----

Patrick: I can’t believe you’re still sleeping with Art. (sent 4:08 PM, 10/28/06)

You’re sitting at your desk in your dorm, going over some of your annotations on a short story for class, when you get the message. It’s your first message from him in a couple of weeks. After the text conversation you had the Saturday he was last on campus, he sent nothing else. You reasoned that whatever happened during the visit wouldn’t happen again, and used that to ease the knot of guilt you felt whenever you thought about what happened. You won’t let it happen again. It’s almost ironic that just as you feel yourself moving past it again, he texts you.

You: I don’t know what you’re talking about. (sent 4:10 PM, 10/28/06)

You are aware that you should have ended things with Art a long time ago. After Patrick’s visit, you couldn’t bring yourself to sleep with Art. But you also couldn’t bring yourself to put a definite end to things with him. So while you hadn’t slept with him in sometime, you were still with Art. Your relationship remained in that little gray area you both created, just now without the sex.

Patrick: Yeah sure. (sent 4:11 PM, 10/28/06)

Patrick: Art told me. (sent 4:11 PM, 10/28/06)

Your mind drifts back to when Tashi said Art told her about your time at the academy. Looks like he was talking about you to Patrick too, albeit for completely different reasons. If Patrick thinks you’re still sleeping with Art, then what exactly did Art say? You did not have the time to focus on this. You sigh as you put your phone down. You need to focus on your work, you tell yourself.

It’s only a couple minutes until you hear your phone ring, you pick it up to see it’s a call from Patrick. You let it ring for a minute before picking it up.

“You never responded to my message,” he says immediately. “I’m busy,” you say looking back at the book. Why did you even take this call? “Doing what?” he asks. “So at university you’re given work to do,” you say sarcastically, which just causes him to laugh on the other end. “Yeah okay smartass. Is it like an essay? Homework?”

You roll your eyes. “No just going over notes” He laughs in response and you expect him to make fun of you. “Going over notes is not work,” he says. “Yes they are,” you say with a groan and eye roll. “No, you just choose to do it. Even when you don’t have to,” he says and you can nearly hear the smirk in his voice. “I care about my grades.” As if to remind you he says. “You’re there on a tennis scholarship.” You roll your eyes again, “Well I want to do well.” He lets out a chuckle, “I know. You were like this back then too.” There is a slight pause between the both of you, as you remember the time at the academy. He then adds on, “You’ll do fine anyway.”

You’re not exactly sure how to respond to that. Another moment of silence between both sides. You break it by asking, “Why’d you call?”

“Well I wanted to have phone sex but all this talk about school has made me soft,” he says with a laugh. You wouldn’t put that motive below him, but you can tell from his tone that it’s a joke. After a moment he goes, “I mean, but if you’re up to it–”

You cut him off. “Bye Patrick.” You roll your eyes and hang up.

----

Patrick: I miss your tight fucking cunt so much. (sent 3:02 AM, 11/02/06)

Patrick: I’m throbbing just thinking of it. (sent 3:03 AM, 11/02/06)

After that phone call, Patrick began texting you more regularly. These types of messages were the least surprising. Late at night and overtly sexual. You were pretty sure he was drunk sending them too. This is what you expected from him. You always refrained from answering them. You could not control what Patrick said or did and you were beginning to highly doubt that he felt any guilt about any of this. But you did. And you could control your own actions.

Although, you responded to his other messages. For every sexual conversation he tried having with you, he started three normal ones. He asked questions about your life and told you things about his. Even back when you were hooking up at the academy he never texted you this much, and especially not about these things.

Patrick: You know I think I had a cousin who studied English too (sent 11:22 AM, 11/07/06)

You: Really? (sent 11:22 AM, 11/07/06)

Patrick: Yeah. I think she is a professor now (sent 11:23 AM, 11/07/06)

Patrick: You’re seriously thinking about majoring in English? (sent 11:24 AM, 11/07/06)

You: Yeah. What about it? (sent 11:25 AM, 11/07/06)

Patrick: Why tho? (sent 11:25 AM, 11/07/06)

You: It’s fun. I like to read. (sent 11:26 AM, 11/07/06)

Patrick: Nerd (sent 11:26 AM, 11/07/06)

While many of the messages have a teasing edge to it, it never felt humiliating. It was like he wanted to make you laugh (and he did). The constant back and forth made it feel like new territory, but it would be a lie to say you didn’t like it. It was undoubtedly fun to talk to him like this. Every once in a while, he would also bring up Art in these conversations. Although his earlier anger at the relationship, now has seemed to fade into curiosity.

Patrick: I just don’t understand you’re relationship with him. (sent 1:33 PM, 11/11/06)

You: your* (sent 1:33 PM, 11/11/06)

Patrick: What? (sent 1:33 PM, 11/11/06)

You: Patrick it's your not you're (sent 1:34 PM, 11/11/06)

Patrick: Whatever (sent 1:34 PM, 11/11/06)

Patrick: What do you two even do together? (sent 1:35 PM, 11/11/06)

You: Why do you care? (sent 1:35 PM, 11/11/06)

You couldn’t bring yourself to ask about him and Tashi. You had a feeling that he was glad about this. Regardless of what happened, she was still his girlfriend and your friend. Even if she came up in conversation, neither of you mentioned her by name.

Patrick: She said she’s thinking about going pro if you guys win the championship. (sent 10:48 PM, 11/18/06)

You: Yeah she told me too. (sent 10:48 PM, 11/18/06)

Patrick: How about you? (sent 10:49 PM, 11/18/06)

You: I don’t know if I want to. (sent 10:50 PM, 11/18/06)

You stared at the message before clicking send. It was your first time directly admitting the fact that you didn’t know what part tennis would play in the future.

Patrick: Seriously? (sent 10:51 PM, 11/18/06)

You: Honestly, I don’t see the point. (sent 10:52 PM, 11/18/06)

Patrick: You’ve always been a great player. (sent 10:52 PM, 11/18/06)

You don’t know how to respond to that message. You just stare at it. He once broke your racket and left you a note to say that replacing it would be a waste of your parent’s money because of how bad you were. And now he is saying you’ve always been a great player? You see another message pop back up.

Patrick: And I don’t think your English degree is going to be a great fall back. (sent 10:55 PM, 11/18/06)

That was easier to respond to.

You: Fuck you. (sent 10:55 PM, 11/18/06)

----

“Everything okay?” Art asks as he stops walking and turns to look at you. You, Tashi, and Art were all walking together to the tennis courts. Both of them were a little ahead of you lost in conversation, while you trailed behind on your phone. Patrick had told you something about his last match. You drop your phone into your pocket and nod in response. Suddenly, it’s weight in your pocket felt like a rock dragging you down.

By the time November rolled around, your workload increased and you were grateful for that. It meant more of a reason to stay in your dorm. You were only really seeing Art and Tashi at practice and games now. You now no longer asked to do homework with her and found excuses to avoid going out with him. Although, you doubt they were disappointed, considering the both of them started to spend more time together.

“Yeah, yeah,” all good, as you take a couple steps to walk beside them.

----

Patrick: I’m coming to visit Stanford this weekend. (sent 10:01 AM, 11/25/06)

----

Considering Patrick’s visit you thought you’d spend the entire weekend in your dorm again. While you were still texting him, you didn’t want a repeat of last time. It was okay to talk, but nothing else. The only way to avoid anything from happening was to stay in your dorm, but when Tashi saw your ranking in the college girls tennis circuit list move up to fourth, she insisted on going out. So here you were at a frat party. Thankfully, it was Saturday and Patrick would leave on Sunday. You were able to avoid him up until you all had to meet up to go to the party.

While he seemed friendly over text, the first thing he said when he saw you was, “Looks like someone is taking the whole Cinderella thing too seriously.” Not his worst jab, but still said in a tone that felt humilating. Art had just shot him a look and Tashi rolled her eyes. You said nothing in response to him and remained silent on the rest of the walk to the frat house. Now here you were at the Frat party, in some corner of the house, trying to bide the time with some drink until you felt it was appropriate to run back to your dorm.

“You look nice,” you hear a voice say next to you. You take a sip from your red solo cup and turn to see a random frat guy, leaning in to talk to you. You just smile in response, hoping the conversation will end. “I haven’t seen you around here before,” he continues. While you enjoyed drinking, you weren’t a fan of how claustrophobic frat parties felt. “Uh well,” you say with a little shrug. Although there was nothing remotely entertaining about it, he laughs and leans in and asks, “So...you here with someone?”

Before you have the chance to respond, you hear, “With her friends. Who is looking for her right now” You turn to see Patrick standing behind you, looking at the frat guy. “C’mon,” he says as he grabs your hand and leads you somewhere away from the corner you were just in.

You follow him without saying anything else. It’s clear he isn’t taking you to Art or Tashi, as you wander down a dimly lit hallway. You look around to see if anyone can see you, but you’re both alone. This hall may be the only empty place in the entire frat house. He pushes open a door and pulls you in, he smirks at you, and you realize he’s taken you to some bathroom. You look at it, and place your drink down on the side of the counter.

“You look really nice,” he says looking at you. A complete 180 from earlier, but what else is new? You look down at the dress, as if you’ve forgotten what you’re wearing. “I’ve never seen you wear that before.” His fingers move to play with the slight lace on the hem of the dress. He smells of cheap alcohol and kool-aid, but you can still faintly smell his cologne.

“It’s new,” you say looking at him. He steps closer, his hands still on the lace, and you feel your heartbeat pick up, and thighs clench. You’re sure he notices. He doesn’t make a comment on it, as he nods. “The lace is nice.” He says looking back up at you. You lean your back against the sink counter, and you slowly feel his hands push the hem of your dress up. You should smack his hands away, but you don’t.

He holds the dress up by your hips, as he looks down at the lace of your panties. “I like that lace too,” he says as he lets one finger touch it. His hands move underneath your thighs and lifts you onto the sink counter. He leans down to kiss you, but not for long as he slowly starts trailing kisses down your body. His hands move to your hips, where the dress is pooled up, to hold down the fabric and hold you. He kisses down on your abdomen, you arch into his touch.

By the time his head is in between your legs, and he looks at the lace of your panties. “You always get wet quick,” he says with a smirk as he sees the little wet spot on them. You whimper, as you feel him lick you over your panties. He chuckles right into your core as you do. He gives you one more tortuous lick over your panties, before pulling them down and putting his tongue where you really want it. His hands are splayed on your thighs to keep you open. “God you taste amazing,” he mutters against your folds as his tongue continues to eat you out. It’s all messy as he spreads his saliva with your arousal and the sound of his tongue against your dripping cunt is obscene. His nose bumps into your clit, which elicits more moans from you. You’re barely on the counter, but his hands hold you in place. You feel his tongue slip down to your other hole, and you shiver, but he quickly moves back up to your cunt. You feel yourself rock against his face. “You’re so desperate,” he chuckles again, “Slut.” His tongue moves a little faster, and your orgasm follows through.

Before you can let the intense pleasure sink in, he is pulling you off the sink counter, and is spinning you around. Your hands grip the sides of the counter, as his hands go to your waist, you feel him rock his erection against you as he groans. You can hear the sound of him unzipping his jeans and the shuffle of the denim as he pulls it down. “Look at you little tennis star,” he says as he pulls down his boxers. “Bent over a bathroom sink for me.” His words send a jolt of arousal down your body, you feel his erection press into your skin. “Fourth is impressive tho,” he whispers against your ear, “I should fuck you with my racket. Maybe your luck will rub off on it,” You feel his tongue dart out and lick the lobe, and you again feel yourself aroused at his words. He pushes your dress up a little bit, and you can feel him guide his cock to your cunt. “Look in the mirror,” he whispers to you. Your eyes look at the reflection of both of you. He smirks from behind you, as he pushes into you. You both moan simultaneously. You feel grateful no one is around, because you’re sure you both could be heard through the door. You feel your eyes go half lidded as he continues to pound into you. “No,” he says with a grunt. One of his hands moves to your neck while the other remains on your lap. His hand presses down into your neck to hold in place. “Watch,” he commands, and your eyes return to the reflection of you both in the mirror. You can see he is watching too, as he continues to hold down on your neck. “I’m..” you feel yourself start to say, but his hand on your throat makes it too hard to speak. “I know..” he grunts, as he continues, “Me too.” He goes a little faster, and with one long grunt, you feel him spill into you. He is panting now, but he continues to thrust until you clench around him and come. You feel slightly light headed as it rips through you, and grip onto the side of the counter as you close your eyes to. His hand moves from your neck and you feel his head rest on the counter on top of yours. His finger softly rubs where you last picked the skin from it.

After a moment of just standing like that, he slowly moves to kneel beside you. You think he is about to do something else, but you feel him pull up your panties as he stands up. He pulls your dress down, and takes a deep breath before going to pull up his own boxers and pants. Feeling much more grounded, you open your eyes and see him looking at you in the mirror, biting the inside of his cheek. “You okay?” he asks. You nod in response, unsure why he is asking. You can see he has a pensive expression on his face, as he bites down on the side of his lip. "I'm fine," you affirm, out loud this time. Then he slowly nods, as he presses a tender kiss against the back of your neck. “I’ll see you,” he says as he walks out. You slowly pull away from leaning on the counter, but say nothing as you just look at yourself in the mirror.

When you finally decide to walk out, you walk straight back to your dorm.

----

Patrick: How are your classes? (sent 11:01 PM, 12/01/06)

Patrick: I used the right your this time :D (sent 11:01 PM, 12/01/06)

----

Tashi: How is prepping going for finals? (sent 8:12 AM, 12/06/06)

You: Fine. Busy tho. (sent 2:03 PM, 12/06/06)

----

Patrick: Read anything good lately? (sent 2:38, 12/10/06)

Patrick: Or has finals taken up all your time? (sent 2:38 PM, 12/10/06)

----

Art: Can you come over? I want to talk. (sent 6:40 PM, 12/16/06)

You: Maybe later? I have an exam tomorrow morning.(sent 7:10 PM, 12/16/06)

Art: It’s important. I’ll be quick. (sent 7:10 PM, 12/16/06)

You: Oh okay. Give me ten min (sent 7:15 PM, 12/16/06)

----

“So…” Art starts, as you sit down next to him on the bed. You had spent the past couple weeks isolated in your dorm studying. And while finals season was keeping you busy, it was just an excuse to avoid Art and Tashi. After Patrick fucked you at the party, it was impossible to ignore the sense of guilt for your behavior. You didn’t deserve to have Art or Tashi in your life. You were awful. You wanted to avoid all three of them at all costs, and were grateful for the fact that finals gave you a reason to.

Art sits down next to you and you both just look at each other for a moment.

You knew this was about your relationship with him. Or well lack thereof. Without a label, without the sex, and now without seeing him, it wasn’t much of a relationship. You wanted him to be happy, but you couldn't deal with the guilt you felt by just being near him.

“I guess it’s over,” he says in a quiet voice. You nod in response. You have nothing to say as you reach over to give him a hug. Just as quickly as it started, you found it was over.

----

Patrick: Art said he ended things with you. (sent 6:39 PM, 12/20/06)

----

Patrick: Are you ignoring me? (sent 12:47 AM, 12/21/06)

----

Patrick: ??? (sent 2:32 PM, 12/21/06)

----

Mom: Have you finished packing? (sent 10:02 PM, 12/23/06)

You: Almost (sent 10:03 PM, 12/23/06)

A lie. You were currently sitting on the floor of your dorm room, with two open, empty suitcases in front of you. You felt exhausted just thinking about packing, but it was only the twenty third and your flight was on Christmas morning. You figured you had plenty of time to pack. No need to stress your mom out about it.

As you stand up and walk over to your closet to grab some clothes to pack, you hear a knock on the door. It was quick and hurried. The semester technically ended yesterday and nearly everyone had already left. You look at the door, and when you hear another knock, you just assume it’s your RA telling you he was leaving for break.

When you open the door, you’re instead greeted with Patrick just standing there. “Patrick?” you asked surprised, “Wha–”

He cuts you off, as he steps into the dorm, “You were ignoring me.” He says it as if that explains everything. “So you just decided to show up at my door,” you ask with a slight scoff. He shrugs. “I wanted to talk,” he says. You sigh, as you walk back to the closet, and open it. He seriously could not have been this dense to not realize why you were avoiding him. “If this is about what happened–”

Now it’s your turn to cut him off. “Of course it is,” you snap back with a scoff. You move to kneel down by the suitcases as you put it in there. He exhales, running a hand through his hair and says, “Why are you acting like this?” You roll your eyes and sarcastically say, “I wonder why.” He sighs and just watches you pack.

An awkward silence overtakes the room, and you take a deep exhale. “How did you even know I was still here anyway?” you ask to get rid of the quiet. “You always leave Christmas morning,” he says with a shrug. He sits down on the floor across from you, as he looks at your suitcases. Your brows furrow, “Shouldn’t you be home for the holidays too?” His eyes dart up to you, and he shrugs again, “Well I don’t celebrate Christmas.” It’s a skillful deflection of the question but you decide to press, “Well yeah I know that.” You remembered how everyone desperately wanted an invite to his Bar Mitzvah back at the academy (you of course were not invited). “But still,” you say as you wait for his response.

He looks at you, and his face is much more serious now. “Uh..” he starts, “Well my parents are still pretty pissed I decided to not go to college.” Oh. You didn’t know that. He bites on the inside of his cheek, and you decide to change the subject.

“Well you’re right, my flight is on Christmas morning,” you say as you stand up and walk back to the closet. He nods from where he is sitting on the floor. As you grab some clothes you add, “But I haven’t been able to pack because of finals.”

“Need help?” he asks. You turn and look at him. His hands are stretched out towards you and you realize he’s asking to take the clothes. You slowly hand it to him, with a raised eyebrow, “You sure?” He just nods as he places the clothes into your suitcase. “You know these suitcases are pretty old, right?” he says to tease you. And you roll your eyes as you grab more clothes to hand him.

An hour later, you both have finished packing. Taking his help was definitely the smart move, as you knew it would have taken at least another hour to finish up on your own. “Finally done,” you say as you lay down on the rug next to your bed. You feel exhausted and let out a yawn. Patrick is still moving some things around in the suitcase. “You’re pretty good at this, you know?” you say with another yawn, still laying down on the rug.

He lets out a laugh, “Well I have to do it on tour.” He continues to move things from one suitcase to another. He says something about distributing the weight, but you don’t catch it as you feel yourself drift off to sleep.

----

When you wake up the next day, you find yourself in your bed. You sit up and look around. The clock on the wall says it’s noon, and your suitcases have been closed, put up right, and rolled to the corner of the dorm. You feel a pang of disappointment at the fact that you’re all alone, but push it down as you move to dangle your legs off the bed. You move to get up, but as you press your foot down you don’t find the fuzzy texture of your rug. You find Patrick.

“Watch it,” he says groggily, as you look down on him. He rolls from his side to his back to look up at you. “You slept on the floor?” you ask him. “No, I’m laying down here for fun,” he says back sarcastically with a sleepy grin. You roll your eyes as you stand up, carefully avoiding him. “Thanks for moving me to the bed,” you say as you look at him. “Mhm,” he murmurs as he slowly sits up, “Don’t mention it.”

You nod, and feel your stomach slightly rumble. “I’m gonna freshen up and go grab us something to eat from the vending machine,” you say with a nod. He raises an eyebrow, “The vending machine?” You shrug. The dining halls on campus would have already closed for break and you doubted there would be much open considering it was Christmas Eve. “Any Chinese places nearby?” he asks with a shrug. You know one and nod. “We’ll go there. I can drive,” he says. “Okay...” you say your voice trailing off as you walk to the bathroom. “Wait,” he says and you turn around and face him. “I’m kinda turned on by you stepping on me,” he says with a grin. You roll your eyes as you turn around and walk into the bathroom.

----

An hour later, both of you were sitting across from each other at a table in a small Chinese restaurant waiting for your food. Somehow the conversation on the way turned to the fact that you didn’t have a license.

“So what, you take the bus everywhere?” he asks with a laugh. You nod and now he laughs “You can’t be serious.” You roll your eyes, but before you can let out some snarky retort, you feel a vibration in your pocket. You pull it out to see a message from your dad.

Dad: Make sure you set an alarm to wake up for your flight tomorrow. You probably want to leave the dorm by 6. (sent 1:23 PM, 12/24/06)

You: Got it :) (sent 1:23 PM, 12/24/06)

“Everything all good?” Patrick asks, as your attention drifts to your phone from the conversation you both were having. “Yeah, my dad just reminded me to set an alarm for tomorrow,” you say with a small nod. He nods in response as well. A moment of silence passes between the both of you. “They’ve always been like that. I remember,” he then says, eyes going to the side. “Been like what?” you ask, as you put your phone down in your lap. He shrugs. “You know,” he pauses to find the right word, “present.”

You look at him for a moment, unsure how to respond to it. You didn’t have to be a genius to see that Patrick wasn’t close to his parents, but his words said enough about how non-existent that relationship actually was.

“I actually remember seeing them the first time I met you,” he suddenly says. “What?” you respond confused. The first time he met you was when he walked into class. You remember how he instantly sneered at you upon making eye contact. Your parents were nowhere in sight. “Okay well, first time I saw you,” he clarifies. Your brows furrow as he sighs. “They came to drop you off. They kept hugging you and saying how proud they were,” he says with a little hand motion and looks to the side as he does.

You do remember that, but you didn’t know that Patrick saw that. Once again you’re unsure how to respond, but thankfully you don’t have to as the waiter walks over and places your dumplings and noodles on the table. “Thank god,” Patrick says as he grabs a pair of chopsticks. “I’m starving.”

----

You laugh in the car, as Patrick sings along off key to Mariah Carey on the radio. “You’re terrible,” you say with a laugh as you look over to him from your place in the passenger seat. He smirks, eyes still on the road. He then sarcastically says“What? I’m a great singer.” This causes you to laugh again, and he joins in.

After that waiter placed your food, the conversation at the restaurant shifted back to more pleasant things. The food was great and now he was driving you both back to the dorm.

“You know, you’re so much more fun when it’s just us,” he says once he is done laughing. “You’ve always been so quiet in public.” You can feel yourself involuntarily tense at his words. He wasn’t wrong. You were more reserved in public. A habit from your time at the academy. A habit from your time being bullied. Your quiet demeanor in public was his fault. And regardless of these moments between the two of you alone, nothing could change that. He must have had the same thought process, because he then goes, “Shit I didn’t–”

“It’s okay,” you quickly say to cut him off. “I know what you meant.” You turn up the volume on the radio to change the subject. He gets the hint, and neither of you say anything else on the way back.

----

Both of you are sitting on the edge of your bed. Your eyes look around the room to check if there is anything you missed while packing. “I can drive you to the airport tomorrow” he suggests. “Honestly I don’t mind taking the bus,” you respond with a shrug as you turn back to him. His brows furrow and he sighs. “About earlier..” he says, his voice trailing off. You shake your head and say, “Just leave it Patrick.” He sighs more frustrated now, clearly unable to find the words he wants to say. He bites down on his bottom lip, and you register how close you’re both sitting. You decide you should move away, but he places his hand on your thigh to tell you to stay.

His lips reach yours and he kisses you as if he hadn’t seen you in years. It's slower than usual. You feel his tongue explore every part of your mouth. As his hands pull off your sweater and push you back down onto the bed, everything feels a bit different. The way he kisses down your abdomen is still passionate, but not reckless. “You’re so beautiful,” you hear him mutter against your skin. There is no hurry in his actions, and his hands move across your body as if trying to memorize every detail. When his head finds his way in between your legs and pulls down your panties with your teeth, you can feel yourself shiver. He eats you out slowly, his tongue lapping through your folds and around your clit in a way that makes you shiver with each stroke. Your hands go to his hair, and you pull it gently. You can feel him moan against your core, and after a couple more moments of his tongue encircling your clit and protruding into your cunt, you come.

When he climbs back up over your body, he kisses you again. Soon you feel his cock push into you. His thrusts are long and slow. His forehead rests against yours, and you’re both holding eye contact. He tells you again you’re beautiful as he continues. You’re both panting and although it takes more time because of the pace, you both reach your orgasms. He presses a kiss to your forehead, and then rolls to lie down next to you.

Neither of you say anything, as you both just lay there looking up at the ceiling. This was new and neither of you know what to say about it. It’s dark outside now and then finally you hear Patrick whisper, “It’s been two years.” He doesn’t have to say what he’s talking about. Two years since the locker room in junior year. Two years since you guys began all of this. “Yeah…yeah it has,” you whisper back. Your head moves to the crook of his neck and his hand wraps around yours. The heat radiates off his body towards yours and you close your eyes. You’re unsure what time you fall asleep.

----

You’re grateful that you remembered to set the alarm as soon as you got back to the dorm yesterday. The clock goes off at six sharp and you wake up, quickly moving from Patrick’s hold on you to hit the off button. You look over beside you on the bed and see Patrick still asleep, although he must have sensed your movement because he shifts around. It’s the first time either of you have fallen asleep in the same bed. Your mind drifts back to the day before and to how you both ended up sleeping in the bed together. It feels as if some boundary has been crossed.

You slowly move to get dressed. You move on your tiptoes, as he moves again in his sleep. The last thing you want to do is wake him up. You want to leave. Go home. Forget any of this ever happened.

Once you’re ready to leave, you slowly push both suitcases on to the door, and look again at Patrick sleeping in your bed. You walk over to the desk and grab a sticky note and pen. You scribble down Lock up when you leave and place the spare key you’re suddenly beyond grateful you have right next to the note. You sigh as you take one last look at him, and then walk back over to the door to leave.

----

He must have woken up shortly after you left, because you just get on the bus as you get a text from him.

Patrick: Hope you have a good Christmas. (sent 6:23 AM, 12/25/06)

You: Thanks (sent 6:23 AM, 12/25/06)

----

You only heard from him once during break, on New Years.

Patrick: Happy new years! (sent 12:00 AM 01/01/07)

You: Happy new years! (sent 12:01 AM 01/01/07)

You simultaneously loved and hated the silence. With no messages from him, it meant you didn’t have to confront what happened the night before you left. You could do your best to pretend nothing had happened. Although you found it impossible to do so. Your mind kept drifting back to that night, and thus equally hated how there was nothing you could do to find some concrete answers. You didn’t know what to expect from him after that. Or what it meant to him. You couldn’t even process what it meant to you. You’re left with an uneasy sense of deja vu, as you find yourself spending another winter break thinking only about you and Patrick.

----

If you were avoiding Art and Tashi before break, you had essentially ghosted them once you got back. As you returned to campus for the spring semester, you hoped Patrick would leave your mind. But without any answers to the questions you mulled throughout break, he remained at the forefront. This made it impossible to be around either of them. Not to mention, with your breakup – if you could even call it that – with Art, it was back to being awkward.

You only saw them during tennis practice or games, always with an excuse handy to avoid spending any extra time together. Although, once again you sensed that they didn’t mind. During your first week back, after practice one day when you told Tashi you had to drop the film studies elective you both signed up for together, she just shrugged in response. “No worries,” she said casually. Art only made small talk with you before and after practice. If they missed your presence, they made no signs to show it.

In contrast, it started to seem as if Patrick was searching for it. Couple weeks after returning to school, he started texting you again.

Patrick: You got back? (sent 5:43 PM, 01/29/07) You: Yeah. (sent 5:46 PM, 01/29/07)

Patrick: How is it? (sent 5:49 PM, 01/29/07)

You: Good. (sent 5:52 PM, 01/29/07)

He texted as if what happened before break was completely normal. The thought of addressing what happened made your stomach churn, but this was irritating. You were sure your annoyance was clear in your messages.

You: Do you have my spare key? (sent 10:23 AM, 02/04/07)

Patrick: Shit. (sent 10:23 AM, 02/04/07)

Patrick: I think I lost it. (sent 10:23 AM, 02/04/07)

You: Good job. (sent 10:25 AM, 02/04/07)

Patrick: Sorry (sent 10:26 AM, 02/04/07)

And slowly, you couldn’t find it in you to respond at all.

Patrick: I was on campus this weekend and didn’t see you once. (sent 2:32 AM, 02/04/07)

Patrick: Art said you guys don’t really talk anymore. (sent 2:32 AM, 02/04/07)

----

Patrick: I doubt the Stanford English department gives their students this much work. (sent 4:23 PM, 02/08/07)

----

Patrick: I can't believe you're ignoring me again. (sent 8:56 PM, 02/12/07)

----

Patrick: What did you tell her??? (sent 10:56 AM, 02/16/07) Patrick: ??? (sent 1:02 PM, 02/16/07)

----

The day you get the email from Adidas is just a random Thursday in Feburary. At first you thought it was spam, but then you saw the words sponsorship in the subject line. You open the email, and your eyes glaze over. It’s a casual email, saying that they’ve seen you play and that if you were interested they would set up something more formal to discuss with you. It feels surreal and you just stare at the screen, expecting it to disappear when you blink.

If you took it, wouldn’t you have to go pro? You were still unsure if you wanted that. Time gave you no clarity on the subject.

You reread the email from Adidas. Adidas. The company Tashi has a sponsorship from. Suddenly you have a feeling about what happened.

----

You’re sitting next to Tashi on the bleachers. Neither of you are playing in today’s game, but Stanford tennis still insists on all players attending for support. You doubt Tashi minds this rule. She always gets into the game, mumbling little things about the players, regardless of who was playing. These moments were the only times you really talked anymore, it was now or nothing. You look at her and take a deep exhale, “I got an email from Adidas.”

She turns and looks at you, her eyebrow raises but then she smiles, “Really?” You nod in response, “They want to give me a sponsorship.” Her smile just grows, but before she can have a chance to respond, you ask, “Did you tell them something?”

“What?” she asks, looking at you. She lets out a scoff like laugh, but then realizes your expression is serious. “It’s not like Adidas is going to give you a sponsorship just because I asked them too.”

“Yeah but you were–” she cuts you off.

“Well I think you deserve one. Doesn’t mean I could get it for you,” she says with a shrug and head shake, as if to say what did you expect.

“I just don’t understand how else they would–”

“You can’t be serious,” she says with a laugh. She looks at the game and then towards you. “You’re currently ranked fourth in women’s college tennis. Of course you’d be on their radar.” You just look at her blankly. Well when she put it like that it made some sense, but you still felt lost. She sighs and tilts her head, “It’s so tiring watching you try justifying these things.” Your eyebrows furrow and she continues. “You think you’re this awful player, but you’re not,” she pauses, “I mean I understand why tho. The academy really did a number on you.”

You feel yourself get a little more tense, as she brings this up. “Huh?” is all you can say.

“Art told me. About the bullying. About Patrick…” she starts. Before you can even process the fact that Art told her everything, she continues. “It actually made a lot of sense. There was always something off between the two of you. At first I thought maybe you had a crush and that’s why you were avoiding me as well, but what Art said made a lot more sense considering your whole complex with Tennis.” Complex with tennis? What?

“I..well,” you start but are unable to find the words. She continues, “You are a good player tho. You deserve the sponsorship.” You just look at her and nod slowly again, she leans in and with a smile says “Congrats.” Both of you then turn to look back at the game, although it’s the last thing on your mind.

----

Tashi’s words never left your head after that. Your headache only grew after that. Another thing to spend time pondering about. A complex with tennis? What did that even mean? You were also somewhat shocked that Art told her all of that, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to talk to him. The only thing clear to you after the conversation, was the fact that your urge to avoid them all had grown.

It’s around eleven pm and you were walking back from the library. Practice had become a little more intense as you got closer to the end of the season. Between that and the time you had to spend in class, you were staying up later to finish your work. It was all getting to you. Your life had become: class, tennis, work, class, tennis, work. You had three more matches left: Pepperdine, UNC, and Purdue. Then the season would end and you wouldn’t have to worry about tennis until next year. The Adidas email was still unanswered. It was fine. You promised to get around to it eventually.

As you walked on the sidewalk back to your dorm, you started to feel as if you weren’t alone. You turned around and saw a car a little behind you moving slowly. You turn back around without getting a proper look, and grip your backpack strap a little tighter as you decide to walk a little faster. The driver must have realized, because they too started to drive a bit faster. You start to run, but as you’re about to cross the road, the car swerves in front of you and stops. This time you do get a good look. You’d know this car anywhere. You feel frozen in place.

“Get in the car,” Patrick says. His voice is more of an order than a question. You just stare at him. “Get in the car,” he repeats. You look around to see if anyone is there walking over and opening the passenger seat door. Everything happened so quickly, it feels disorientating.

“What–”

You’re not given the chance to finish the sentence as he spits out, “I can’t believe you’re ignoring me again. I thought we were over this.” You just look at him, as he starts to drive, you’re not exactly sure where. You open your mouth to ask, but then he says, “Yeah okay we fucked up. We have been fucking up. But you don’t just get to disappear.”

You watch him, as he continues to drive. “I’ve been busy,” is all you say. He scoffs, “Too busy to respond to my message, but not too busy to tell Tashi about the academy, huh?” he says, leaning in again. Your brows furrow and you start to say “I never–”

He cuts you off once more, “Oh please, cut the crap.” He looks to the side and then to you, “I’m so fucking tired of this.” He is close enough that his nose is touching yours, “How convenient of you to leave out the part where we’ve been sleeping together? Can’t stand not being the victim?” His words aggravate you and you begin, “Patrick–”

He cuts you off again, “The poor scholarship kid. The poor bullied kid.” His tone is mocking and combined with the fact he hasn’t let you get one proper sentence in yet, you find your anger increasing. “I mean it looks like it got you places. Art said you got an Adidas sponsorship. Good for you,” he says with a scoff like laugh. Did Tashi tell Art about it? You shut down the thought. You don’t have the time for it right now.

“Fuck you Patrick,” you bite back, and he laughs again. “Don’t you ever get tired of this? You have everything, and you still act like it’s nothing,” he snaps back.

You scoff and suddenly the car is suffocating. You don’t know where you are, but you’re sure you could figure out how to get back, so you grab the car door to open and leave. Instantly, his hand comes down and clamps down on your arm. He holds you with a tight grip.

“Let go of me,” you say, looking at him. “No,” he retorts back instantly. You try pulling from his grip, but he doesn’t let you go. It doesn’t stop you from trying again. Once again he just says, “No.” You look at him with a laugh, and pull again, but he pulls your arm with enough force that your whole body moves closer to him. The hand you kept on the door handle is pulled away, and without thinking the hand goes to slap Patrick for pulling you.

You weren’t thinking when you did it. It just happened. He just looks at you after the slap, equally surprised. The cheek you hit him on is slightly pinkish, although you didn't hit him hard enough to really hurt. Just enough to sting. His grip on your arm loosens, but you don’t move. You’ve been in this situation enough times to know what is going to happen next. And like every time before, you have no intention of stopping it. It’s no surprise when his lips come crashing down on yours.

Your tongues clash, and your hands move to grip his shoulders. You can feel your nails digging into the muscle there. He moans in your mouth at the sensation, and you feel your arousal grow as he does. As if knowing, his hand goes to slip inside of your pants, gently touching you over the thin fabric of your panties. You whine against his lips at the sensation, and he chuckles. “Such a desperate slut,” he murmers, as he applies a bit more pressure with his fingers as he touches you. “Patrick,” you whimper again, he chuckles at it. You can feel his fingers push away your panties and you feel his middle finger dip into your cunt. It’s long and calloused as he thrusts it in and out of you. The position is insanely uncomfortable; you in the passenger seat, him reaching over the dash, but you’re too needy at this point to care. His thumb runs over your clit as his middle finger continues its motions. You think he is going to dip another finger in, when he suddenly stops. Something in the back of the car catching his eyes.

“Remove the sweats,” he tells you, as he reaches his hand to the back seat to grab something. You do as he says, pulling it down to your ankles. Your panties are still pushed to the side, so you’re exposed. You lean back against the car door, as you see him pull out a tennis racket. You remember his words at the party, and you can see the brief moment of hesitation on your face. It’s so obscene but it just makes you even more aroused, you spread your legs a little more, and his hesitant look is replaced with a smirk. As your arousal drips onto the car seat, his hands reach out to touch your folds, and then he leans over the dash and spits right on your pussy, tennis racket still in hand. The next thing you feel is the handle of the tennis racket sliding into you with ease.

He moves it back and forth, as he watches. “Fuck,” he groans at the sight, as his free hand moves to palm at his dick through his pants. His breathing is labored now. You squirm in the seat as he continues with the racket, your hand moves down to rub little circles over your clit to bring you over the edge faster. “I’m..cl..” your voice trails off before you can finish the sentence. “I know,” he says with a pant. “Let go for me,” and his words bring forth your orgasm as your head goes back against the window and you feel yourself let go.

He smiles as he sees you come undone. You look at him through half lidded eyes, deciding to give yourself a minute before you both continue, wanting to give him a hand or blow job to get him off. But as his eyes drift down to where the tennis racket is, he stares at it for a moment. The smile slowly falls off his face and his other hand moves away from his pants. He pulls the tennis racket out and you sit up. He turns to put the racket in the back again.

“I’ll drive you back,” is all he says after, not making eye contact as he does.

-----

Neither of you say anything afterwards. After what he said, you fixed your panties and pulled up your pants, and he started driving the car back in silence. His eyes are glued to the road, but you turn to look at him every couple minutes. He looks much more solemn, and you find yourself unable to break the silence.

He stops at a red light, and you’re still looking at him as his eyes remain on the road. “I’m…You have every right not to text me,” he suddenly starts. “I don’t…You should probably stop texting me.” His voice is so defeated and small, it’s almost hard to believe this is the same man from ten minutes ago. He starts driving again, and you look out the window.

Wherever that parking lot was, it must not have been far from campus, because before you know it you can see your dorm building in the distance. “You should stop here,” you tell him quietly, not wanting to get too close to the building where someone may see you. He nods as he parks at the end of the road. You pick up your bag to leave, but from the side of your eye you see him face you again.

“Why..I can’t believe you let me do that shit to you,” he says. He is facing you in the passenger seat now, but is unable to look at you. You look at him, feeling a weird knot in your stomach. “Patrick…” you start, but your voice drifts off. You’re not sure why either. “You shouldn’t let me do that shit to you.” His voice is a bit louder and still upset. “God you should fucking hate me,” his eyes look back up to yours. And then in a softer voice he asks, “Why don’t you hate me?”

He has a point. You have every reason to hate him. Sometimes what you feel is strong enough to be hatred, but you know whatever you feel for him isn’t hate. You look away from him towards your dorm building in the distance. There is no straight answer you can provide for him right now, so instead you quietly say, “I should get back.”

He looks where you’re looking and nods with a sigh, saying “Okay…yeah.”

You say nothing else as you get out of the car with your stuff. You have to fight the urge to look back at him as you walk to your dorm.

----

Patrick: Won a couple matches I played with that racket. Maybe it really is lucky now. (sent 7:02 PM, 02/22/06)

Patrick: I hope you're doing well. (sent 7:10 PM, 02/22/06)

You never respond. He doesn’t send anything else.

----

Adidas sent you a follow up email, considering you never responded to the first one. They said they wanted to give you the time to think, but they needed to hear something back. You don’t respond to this email either.

----

The past couple weeks have been the most isolated you’ve been since your time at the academy. It was like you were fourteen again constantly tormented and with no friends. Except this time, the only thing tormenting you were your thoughts. You wanted to just disappear and avoid everything and everyone. You didn’t even have the energy to think about any of it. About Patrick and why you didn’t hate him. About your supposed complex with tennis. Even just remembering what happened over the past couple months was exhausting.

You didn’t talk to anyone. Tashi no longer came up to you in the locker rooms or during practice and games. You didn’t know if she was giving you space after your conversation or if this marked the death of your friendship. This also to think about, even if you were relieved that it made it easier to avoid her presence. You also started to skip class more often. You knew you’d also be skipping practice and games if your scholarship wasn’t dependent on tennis. You’re almost free though. Today is the match against Pepperdine. Then two more, and the season would be done.

You were walking back to your dorm room, when you see them through the dining hall window. Art and Patrick eating churros. You stand and stare at both of them for a moment. Somehow the sight takes you by surprise. You assumed that Patrick was still visiting campus, since he and Tashi were still together. And of course he was still friends with Art, but you couldn’t help but wonder if Patrick figured out if it was Art who told Tashi about everything that happened at the academy.

You still hadn’t confronted Art about that. You still wanted to, but you still found yourself unable to talk to Art. Just like Tashi no longer talked to youi, he no longer seemed to talk to you. The small talk before and after practice, had now just been reduced to the occasional wave. Your eyes go to Patrick. Neither of you were texting anymore. Nor had he randomly showed up to talk to you, like the last two times. For once in your life, Patrick Zweig had actually left you alone.

When both boys notice you're staring through the window, you lock eyes with both of them. Art’s expression is stoic, you couldn’t read it if you tried. Patrick looks slightly surprised and for a moment you think he is about to smile at you, but you don’t wait around to find out. You turn away and walk straight back to your dorm.

----

There’s thirty minutes until the match. You’re dressed in your dorm so you wouldn’t have to bother with the locker room. You're ready to head out, when you hear a knock on your dorm door. You look at it for a minute. You swallow and hope it’s not Patrick, as you open the door. You’re flooded with both relief and disappointment that it’s Art.

“Uh..hey,” you say, seeing him. He nods and gives you a small smile you can tell is forced. “I saw you today, so I thought I’d come over,” he says. The way he looks at you makes you feel as if he knows something. It’s obvious this is all a pretense to talk about something else. While you don’t know what, you know you don’t want to talk about it. As you move to let him walk into your dorm, you quickly say, “I was actually about to head out for the game soon.”

He nods, “me too.” He then looks at you, and his lips part again as if he is about to speak. You have no idea what he is about to say, but you already want this conversation to be over. Without thinking, you speak first, “So Patrick is visiting for the game?”

His lips close, clearly not expecting that. He nods and curtly says, “Tashi invited him.” While this is the same Art you’ve known for years, he suddenly feels much colder. His expression is stony and makes you want to shrink. It dawns on you that this must all be about Tashi. Maybe he was just trying to use what happened to you as a way to get her to break up with Patrick. The thought he would do so is upsetting, and without thinking, you say, “She told me what you said.”

He nods and shrugs, “Well it came up one day.”

“Really?” your voice exposes the fact that you don’t believe it.

He just shrugs in response and shakes his head yes as he does. “I don’t see why it’s a big deal.”

“You don’t see why telling my friend about something like that wasn’t a big deal?” you ask back.

“Are you really her friend anymore?” he asks, which stuns you into silence. He just lets out a little huff, and continues, “And she’s with Patrick. She should know about it.” You stare at him, unsure how to respond. “She should know what type of guy her boyfriend is,” he repeats.

“Patrick is your best friend–”

“I know that,” he cuts you off quickly. This was the most impassioned thing he had said this whole time. “But I’m not going to pretend what he didn’t wasn’t awful.” Maybe it was a little more than just about Tashi. He looks at you for a moment, as if analyzing you, “Why do you?” You stare at him blankly, his voice is calm but cruel in a way that makes you want to scream. “Why do you brush it aside?” His voice sounds as if he is trying to imply something and you find yourself just standing there. “It’s like you’re trying to protect him”

“I’m not,” you say back in a quiet voice. He just shrugs in response, and looks to the side, as he looks like he is about to say something, but he then lets out a humorless laugh. Before you can ask why he did so, he says, “See you at the game.” He takes one last knowing look at you as he walks out of the room.

----

You didn’t have the energy to leave after that. You laid down on your bed for a couple extra minutes, before you realized you would be late if you didn’t leave now. You grabbed your racket and water bottle and headed out to leave the dorm building.

You walk out of the dorm and then the dorm building quickly, but not fast enough to miss the sight of Patrick sitting on the curb. You stop upon seeing him, and he must sense your presence because he turns and looks at you. His back straightens up a little more and you can see his eyes are red. He’s wearing what looks to be Tashi’s shirt, and the scent of weed drifts off him.

He says your name as he scrambles to his feet. “I have to go,” you say, pointing with your racket in the direction of the game. You take a step backwards. You don’t have the time for this. You don’t have the energy for this. “She knows,” he suddenly says.

You can feel your heart drop. “Tashi..she knows about...” He doesn't finish the sentence, but makes a motion between the both of you.

He says something after that, but you’re unable to hear it. Your legs move without you processing the action, and the next thing you find is yourself running to the court where the game is. You can hear Patrick call after you, but he doesn’t follow.

----

Tashi is by the bench, pulling out her racket from the case. You run over to her instantly, the moment she processes your presence she scoffs.

“Tashi–”

She does not let you speak, looking at you with a cold expression. “I don’t know what fucked up dynamic you and Patrick have going on,” she starts, before leaning in slightly in a menacing way. “But keep it away from me.”

You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. It’s not like she would have heard anything you said anyway, the minute she is done speaking she walks away to the court.

You watch her go, as you sink down onto the bench. The items in your hand falling down beside you. The game begins but you’re unable to focus. You just sit there, your fingers going back to picking the skin by your cuticles. You feel as if the ground is spinning and you want nothing to run back to your dorm. Your mind replays the moment with Tashi. The conversation with Art. You hear Patrick’s voice ask why you don’t hate him replaying in your head, and you feel all the memories come rushing back. It’s as if floodgates have been opened and nothing can stop it from pouring out. You let yourself spiral as you feel your heart rate picked up.

You probably would have been like that for the whole game, but then you hear it.

Her scream.

----

It’s all a blur after that. You look up and see Tashi on the ground clutching her knee. You don’t waste a moment before getting up and running to her side, but the minute you get down on your knees beside her, her expression becomes even more upset.

“No!” she says clutching her knee looking at you. “Get away! Get the fuck away!” You just stare as you see her cry, as your coach comes down beside you to calm her down. You see Art run down from the stands, hopping over the net for her. As he moves her head on her lap, you make eye contact with him.

His expression is worried, but also has something else you can’t place. You look back at him, and he looks away from your gaze down at Tashi. Then you realize what the other emotion is. Guilt. Suddenly, the conversation earlier made more sense. He knew. He knew about you and Patrick. He knew and he told her. Your mind races with questions, but you slowly get up realizing you’re only making Tashi more upset. You look at her one last time, before running to the bathroom for some privacy, feeling the tears well up in your eyes as you do.

----

You wipe your tears as you sit in the hallway of the campus' medical center . When you stepped out of the bathroom, you realized that they had already taken her off the court. You assumed she was either brought here or was already taken to the hospital. You couldn't care less about your game after everything, so you left for the medical center instantly. When you arrived, you saw a coach talking to one of the nurses and that confirmed she was here.

The medical center was small. A one floor building, so you knew she was just down the hall, but you couldn't bring yourself to go to her. Why would she want to see you? She hated you now. You were a few feet away, but you may as well have been miles away from her. You still couldn't bring yourself to leave. It was like watching a car crash. Awful. Crushing. Yet absorbing. You just sat on the floor, hugging your knees to your chest, with your head leaning against the wall.

You hear hurried footsteps from the other end of the hallway, and you turn to see Patrick who nearly runs into the room.

“Get out!” you hear Tashi say. You can tell he is trying to say something back, but then you hear Tashi say again to get out. While your position in the hallway prevents you from seeing anything, you can hear it clearly.

“Get the fuck out Patrick!” Art’s voice booms. You just stare at the direction of the door, as you see Patrick walk out dejected. As he steps out he sees you sitting on the floor. Somehow the sight of you makes him look even sadder.

His eyes go down to the floor and he slowly begins walking down the hallway in your direction. You just watch him, as he comes over to you and then slumps down onto the floor next to you. He turns his head to look at you. You stare back in silence.

“I’m sorry,” he then says quietly. His voice barely above a whisper. “For everything.”

You look at him with a small nod and respond, “I know.”

And when he leans in to hug you, you close your eyes and wrap your arms around him as well. Your mind goes blank and you let the enormity sink in. You can’t tell if it makes you feel empty or complete.

author's note: If you got this far, I love you <3 Let me know what you think!

#patrick zweig #tashi duncan #art donaldson #challengers #challengers 2024 #challengers fic #patrick zweig x reader #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig smut #art donaldson smut #patrick zweig fic #the chain AU

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cursed-peanut · 3 months

Text

A/N: Hello everyoneeee!!! As promised, here is part 2 of Reunited!! I will be making more parts however it won’t be like a fic, more like a combination of scenarios, headcanons, etc. If you have any questions or thoughts on this AU, my ask box is always open and so are my comments. My taglist is also open! If you’d like to be added, lmk! Please make sure I can tag your account first though. May sound silly but I couldn’t tag some people because they had tagging disabled. If you were one of the people who asked to be tagged but wasn’t, please change that in Tumblr settings :) Anyway, this kinda gave yandereish vibes at the end??? If you want me to turn it into that or write a spin off where Sukuna is a Yandere for reader, lmk in the comments 💗 Anywho, happy reading and I hope you all enjoy this as much as you all did in part 1 <333

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“You are to be monitored by me at all times! If you get caught walking around by yourself well…I will either get an earful from the old hags at the top or they’ll have both of our heads, no in between!” Gojo Satoru tells you in a tone way too cheerful for what he was telling you.

“What? Why? I don’t even have any cursed energy, I’m just a regular human, I’m not some powerful sorcerer.”

“That is exactly why. We’re keeping your presence under the radar for now, but as soon as it inevitably slips out that you’re back and so is Sukuna, so will immediately become a target.”

“That’s not true. ‘Kuna may not be back to his full power, however he is still strong. No curses and sorcerer’s alike would dare hurt someone so close to the King of Curses.”

“While you may be right that he’s powerful even though Sukuna isn’t at his full potential, your ‘Kuna’ currently has the power of one of his fingers and is stuck in a fifteen year old boys body. He could easily be evaded by fellow special grade curses and curse users. Please realise this is for your safety.”

This doesn’t make sense to you. Yes, he’s not at his full power, but it’s not like you’ll be leaving Jujutsu Tech anyway. After all, you don’t go on missions, you’re not a Jujutsu Sorcerer and you will never have a chance to — not that you want to anyway. So logistically there is no need for your protection. Are they worried sorcerers might attack you? That’s surely a fault in the system of their schooling and society if they’re scared of that. Or maybe…they don’t trust you?

“They want me dead because of my relation to ‘Kuna, don’t they?” Gojo’s deafening silence answers your question. “Why?”

“Because they’re afraid that there’s a possibility you’re hiding a powerful technique from us. I personally don’t believe you are deceiving us, but even if you were, I’d be able to stop you anyway. So don’t be become all cocky with delusion. Thinking you can defeat me.” He grins.

“Mhm, well…thank you then.”

“Hm?”

“Thank you for believing in me,” You shakily sigh. “I’m happy to know someone is willing to stand up for me.”

“Of course! I would get a mopey Yuji if you died, and who knows how Sukuna would react, but I know for a fact it would not end well. Talking of Yuji and Sukuna, we should go check on them now!”

That’s right. Itadori has recently been announced as dead, however it seems Itadori must have made some sort of pact with Sukuna to revive him. You and Gojo, along with a few others at Jujutsu Tech, are the only people who know he’s alive. Gojo seems to take this opportunity to train Itadori well, and what that truly means is most of the time he conducts experiments that mainly consist of Gojo purposely annoying Sukuna to see how Itadori’s body would react. Most experiments involved you in some way — he found Sukuna’s threats very amusing, but what he found even more amusing is your ability to make the King of Curses sulk for a day by simply lightly reprimanding him for these threats.

“‘Kuna! That is no way to talk to someone. He just wanted a hug.”

“Yeah ‘Kunaaaa. I just wanted a hug.”

“Gojo-Sensei, please. Stop angering him. It’s getting harder and harder to suppress him.”

“This is exactly why I’m doing this! To help you learn how to suppress Sukuna, no matter the circumstances.” Gojo explains. While that may be partly true, Itadori knows that’s a lie. He’s doing this because it’s funny to him.

“You better watch it, Sorcerer scum,” Sukuna grits. “May I remind you that when I make this idiots body my own, I’m killing you first.”

“‘Kuna!” You scowl, hugging Gojo tighter to Sukuna’s dismay. Gojo flashes a shit-eating-grin Sukuna’s way for one last time and lets go of you.

“Thank you, Sensei. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could suppress him for.” Itadori sighs. You sit down next to him and give him a warm hug, rubbing circles on his back. Itadori looks up at you with warm eyes as you press a kiss to his forehead. You always bring the mummy issues out of him.

Meanwhile, in Sukuna’s domain, Sukuna is looking at you through Itadori’s eyes and he can’t help but marvel at you. You’re even more beautiful than he remembers, and you’re so unbelievably near. He wishes he could take his vessel’s place, return to his former glory with you by his side, but that will have to wait.

He will return to his former glory and you will be at his side when that happens. But above all else, what makes his wait all the more worth it, is the world he plans to create will be perfect for you and him. You wouldn’t need to worry about any disgusting sorcerers killing him and sealing you again.

Even if you hate him for killing the sorcerers, he can live with that. As long as you still love him, and stay by his side, he can deal with that.

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Taglist: @makuzume @spicyhyunn @pearlescentwonderland @namjooningera @six-eyed-samurai @natriae @domainofmarie @lixern @fluttershyfangs @girlyuuta @anabort @yu-87 @sukunaglazer4ever @madison777x @dervngedgf @calisnewworld @ilybbg @the-banshee @mostnormalsukunastan2024real @williamafton26 @mythoswarrior-23 @megantheefan @mindless-rock @kimsunoo2003 @anayesha1 @lelelenlenn @shyshybabyy @unlikelystay @shigemis0ra @iloveboysinred @eresel4mordemivid4 @meo66 @frozen-waffles @mrsslytherin00 @lazyperfectioniste @whosmarjj @itawifeyy @sugurubabe @hanniebanggi

Please don’t copy or take as your own. Likes and reblogs are appreciated!

Like what you read? Here are all my other works and consider following me! If you’re interested in this AU, here is the masterlist for all works in this AU so far. If you would like to request something, please check my rules first before doing so.

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navybrat817 · 9 months

Note

I need Bucky to blow my back out. 😮‍💨

Don't we all, nonnie?

You Asked for It

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Word Count: Over 700 Warnings: Explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, dirty talk, slight breeding kink, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: We'll call this a Wet Wednesday blurb.❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

“I’d be better if Bucky blew my back out. How are you?”

You’re certain he doesn’t hear you say that in passing to Natasha after she asks how you’re doing, but super soldier hearing and whatnot. He smirks when he repeats the words in his head. The Sergeant may be an old man, but he isn’t that out of touch. He knows enough that you need him to pound your pussy and fill you to the brim. Fuck you so hard and so good that you won’t be able to close your legs or walk by the time he’s done with you.

Dirty girl.

He takes it as a compliment that you need his cock to have a better day and he’s more than happy to take advantage of that. And why wouldn’t you want him? You both know you have a greedy cunt and find any excuse under the sun for him to be inside you, your body always wet and ready even when he doesn’t stretch you out.

Not that he’s complaining. He’s shocked he doesn’t have a permanent hard-on with you around. Your pussy is the gateway to heaven, miliking him for all he’s worth. Because isn’t it a form of worship to paint your wet and quivering walls with his seed?

So later once he has you in his bed where you belong, he spends a minute just looking at your twitching hole as he spreads your glistening folds. His cock throbs and he doesn’t waste time making you beg. Instead of splitting you open the way he wants to, he slowly and deliberately slides into you inch by inch. You welcome him home with whimpers and sighs.

He wants to fuck you until you cry how much you love him.

But he doesn’t move once his hips are flush with yours, giving you a smirk at your dazed and confused stare.

“You know,” he begins, tracing a wet finger along your cheek as you try to wiggle your hips. “If you wanted me to pound your sweet little pussy so bad, all you had to do was say so.”

You narrow your eyes and purposely clench around him, almost hard enough to make him throw his head back. “Then do it, Barnes.”

He feels all too smug when he pulls out and thrusts back in with enough force to make you jerk underneath him. “Should’ve put that pretty mouth of yours to good use first, but we have time for that later.”

For now, he gets to work.

It’s like time stands still when he pins you down and makes you take every single thrust. He can’t help but lean down to bite your bottom lip, wanting you lost in pleasure. “So fucking wet. Making a mess all over me. Fuck, you take me so well,” he praises, his gaze leaving your face only for a moment to watch your tits move.

Yeah, I'm fucking those later.

“Please,” you moan, trying to raise your hips to meet his. “Fuck me.”

“I am fucking you,” he groans, plunging himself deeper.

“Harder,” you beg.

You asked for it.

Minutes may pass. Maybe hours. But broken moans leave your lips as your pussy keeps opening up and taking Bucky in. Just like it was made to.

“Fuck, baby, I almost forgot what a slut you are for my dick,” he grunts before your eyes flash. You’re not quite cock drunk yet and he only chuckles when he thrusts harder, making your pretty eyes roll back. “Not just a slut. My slut.”

“Your slut,” you moan.

He glances down and watches how you swallow every inch of him. “Fuck yeah, you are. And you’re gonna take every fucking drop of me after you come,” he grunts. That has you moaning before he even gets a thumb on your clit, rubbing it in circles just the way you like it. He knows you’re on the verge of a powerful orgasm and wants it to consume you. “Come. Don’t you fucking hold back.”

He feels your release coat his cock as you scream his name, almost triggering his own as he tells you what a good fucking girl you are. But he’s not done yet. Not by a long shot.

He’ll blow your back out before the night is over.

And if you’re lucky, he’ll put a baby in you, too.

Um. Sorry? Love and thanks for reading. ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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brokenmenswhore · 2 months

Note

Hiii first of all thank you for your fics, they're all so good you're incredible 🥹 second I just wanted to ask you if you were planning on going on with lessons, it was SO amazing! No rush just to know whether to expect it ahah if not so I would love to read some other Aegon xfem!reader smut you're too good at that 💚

thank youuuuu 🖤 i wasn’t planning on it personally but i live to serve and if there’s a demand for it i’m open to anything! here’s something kinda similar regardless since i’m such a whore for this man :)

new | aegon ii targaryen

pairing: aegon targaryen x fem!reader

summary: aegon asks the madam of his usual brothel if she has anyone “new”

warnings: smut (MDNI 18+), choking, corruption kink, language

a/n: this gif is making me feral why the fuck is he so fucking hot UGH

────── ☾ ──────

“Is everything to your liking, Your Grace?” asked the Madam, noticing the slight tinge of frustration on Aegon’s face. He walked past her and into his usual room, slumping down on one of the chairs. The Madam followed, concerned at the consequences to her establishment if The King was not satisfied.

“Is there any way I may be of assistance?” she continued, hoping he would alert her as to the issue he was having.

Aegon sighed. “Do you have anyone new?”

The question caught the Madam off guard. The King liked his specific few girls. He preferred the ones with the proper look and experience level that he required for satisfaction. When he was younger, he would fuck anything that moved, but since wearing the crown, he understood he needed to keep his urges at bay, and only let them loose with a select few. He had never asked for anything new.

“We do have one new girl, but you would not approve of her, Your Grace, she is quite inexperienced and will suit men who desire innocence much better than she will suit you.” The Madam was afraid that you would not be able to perform properly, and she did not want The King of the Seven Kingdoms to hold any resentment toward her.

“Does she look like my usuals?” Aegon asked, completely disregarding the Madam’s comments.

“She does, Your Grace, but I would advise-“

“You are not in good standing to advise your King of anything,” he cut the Madam off, glaring daggers her direction, “you would be wise not to question me.”

“Of course, my apologies, Your Grace,” the Madam panicked, “she does look like your usuals, but she is freshly new. She has not been had here yet anymore than maybe five nights. She does not know much.”

Aegon gave the Madam a wicked smile. “You may inform her that her King awaits.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” she responded, exiting the room and leaving the King alone in wait.

She found you in a back room, alone, attempting to adjust your body to fit properly in the small amount of clothing you were given.

“I have been requested to fetch you,” the Madam said, her voice startling you. You turned to her, finally happy with the way your breasts were sitting, as you responded, “How could anyone know to ask for me?”

“The King has requested someone new.”

Your eyes widened at the statement. “The King?” The Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms was the very last person you anticipated on serving. You had only had sex a handful of times, this being your first few nights working, and each time was with a man who specifically asked for someone inexperienced. You knew that the king liked his whores experienced and ready to serve, and oftentimes the Madam only sent him girls who worked their way up to serving someone of such high esteem. He was a finale, not a beginning.

Aegon II Targaryen was also known to be hot headed and rough with his whores, allowing his deepest carnal desires to overtake him. A few of the other girls greeted you on your first days, speaking to you of their tips, tricks, and experiences, and had spoken of the King, and his brother, Prince Aemond. The few girls who were tasked with serving King Aegon accredited him to sore throats or the inability to walk for hours, his depravity present in the bedroom. They quite enjoyed him that way.

“He has specifically requested you,” the Madam told you, “I attempted to advise him otherwise, but he insisted. I am in no position to undermine the King’s requests.”

You swallowed thickly and nodded your head. “Do I look up to your standards, Madam?” you asked.

She approached you, fixing a few stray hairs before pressing her palm to your cheek. “You are stunning. You will be fine. I hired you for a reason. Do not be nervous, darling.“ The Madam gave you a sweet smile before turning out of the room, allowing you to follow her to your meet with the King.

“Your Grace,” she called before swinging the curtain open, making sure he knew she was entering before doing so, “This is her.”

You followed the Madam into the room, shifting until you were standing in front of The King, who remained seated in the corner.

“Thank you,” he spoke, “you may leave us.”

The Madam hesitated, but did not dare question his authority. She bowed toward him and exited the room, leaving you alone and nearly naked, standing before the highest ranking man in Westeros.

You nervously fidgeted with your fingers behind your back as the King lifted a cup from the small table next to his chair, taking a sip and looking at you, not yet placing the cup back down.

He shifted in his seat, spreading his legs open and slumping in the chair a bit more. “Well?”

“Your Grace?” You were confused at what he was trying to get you to do.

“Don’t just stand there,” he told you.

“Your Grace, what would you like me to do?” you asked, afraid of making the wrong move and making him angry.

Aegon sighed. He took another sip from his cup before placing it down and standing up, untying his breeches and pushing them down his legs, freeing his already semi-hard cock. He sat back down and lifted his cup again. His eyes never left you as he brought the cup to his lips, continuing to tilt it further and further upwards until the red liquid spilled past his lips, a steady stream rushing down his throat, down his chest, and onto his stomach. “Oops,” he said, finally placing the empty cup down, “someone will need to clean that up.”

Though he made sure the spill was noticeably deliberate, you did not catch on. “I can happily retrieve you a towel, Your Grace.”

“You will do no such thing,” he spoke, “your tongue is as good as anything.”

You stared at him blankly, nervous to approach him. You knew you should, but your feet were unable to move.

“Come here and lick it up,” he demanded, “now.”

You forced yourself to move, kneeling in between his legs and adjusting yourself to your mouth was directly in front of his neck. “May I?” you asked.

“Lick. It. Up,” he repeated as an answer.

You slowly leaned in until the tip of your tongue connected to the stream of wine on his throat, flattening it against his adam’s apple as you licked up the spilled drink. Your tongue traced from his chest to the base of his neck, then from his belly button to his chest. Even when the wine was mostly cleaned, you licked a long stripe from his stomach all the way up to his throat, tracing the wine up the underside of his chin until you swiped your tongue over his bottom lip.

“May I kiss you, Your Grace?” you asked, desperate to feel his lips but scared of overstepping.

Instead of a verbal answer, Aegon grabbed a fistful of your hair in his hand, tugging your head back. He brought his lips to yours, kissing you with a desperate hunger and tasting the wine on your lips, before ripping your head away from his. “You missed a spot.”

You pulled your body away from him, looking down his body to where he pointed, just at the base of his cock.

You shifted your body so your head was level with his cock, kissing down his lower stomach until you were just above his now hardened cock. You looked up at him for consent, and he nodded slightly, his breathing starting to quicken in anticipation.

You were in your head before you could allow yourself to be as bold as you knew The King expected. “Your Grace, you must know that I have never done this before.”

Aegon tilted his head to the side. “Do not tell me you still have your maidenhood?”

“I do not,” you replied, “I mean I have never tasted a man in this way. I am unsure how I will perform.”

Aegon’s cock twitched at your confession. “I can be lenient with you.”

“I would very much appreciate it, Your Grace. I want you to enjoy yourself, though, and I can fetch a girl who may be better suited to your desires, if you’d like.”

Aegon sighed. “I do not want another girl.”

“Of course, Your Grace, I shall do my best, I just fear you may benefit from someone with more experience-“

“Shut up,” he cut you off, “I said I do not want another girl. Now get on with it.”

You took a deep breath, looking up at him before running your tongue from the underside of his cock to the tip, kissing the very top before sinking your mouth down onto his length. Aegon settled back in his chair, his muscles relaxing at the feeling of your lips wrapped around him.

You began to bob your head up and down slowly, adjusting to the feeling. You had seen this done before, but only in passing, walking past rooms full of cocks and mouths for the past few nights. You did not know much, but you attempted to showcase what you had seen, and how you assumed it was done.

You flattened your tongue against the underside of Aegon’s cock, a sigh leaving his lips as you continued to move up and down.

Aegon’s hand reached for your arm, pulling it upwards until his hand was in yours. He guided your hand to his balls, and you instinctively cupped them, squeezing gently and glancing up at his face to see his reaction. He was already looking down at you, his chest rapidly rising and falling as you continued to play with him, mouth still moving on his cock.

Both of his hands moved to hold your head onto him as he began to thrust into your mouth, lifting his hips ever so slightly at a painstakingly slow pace. Your lack of experience was driving him insane, his cock desperate for more. He grabbed your hair in his hand, and started to push and pull your head, forcing you to pick up the pace in which you sucked him. He began to thrust faster and faster into your mouth, chasing his high with every movement of his hips, before pulling your head off of his cock entirely.

You looked at him, confused as to why he stopped you. Were you not good enough? Did he want another girl?

“What fun would it be if I came now?” Aegon said, pulling you out of your own head, “I’m nowhere near done with you.”

“What else would you like from me, Your Grace?” you asked.

Your innocent tone was driving him crazy, his desire to corrupt and wreck you growing with each sound you made.

“Has anyone ever tasted you?” he asked.

“I know not what you ask, My King,” you answered.

“Do you know what it means to be tasted, pretty girl?” He asked, pulling you until you were standing in front of him as he leaned forward in his chair. He put his hands on your hips and placed a quick kiss to your stomach.

“No, Your Grace,” you spoke, barely making any noise, cheeks flustered as he held onto you, kissing along your lower stomach. His teeth pulled at your small clothes, looking up at you as they slid down your thighs and pooling at your ankles.

You were embarrassed, standing with your core exposed to The King of the Seven Kingdoms, his mouth mere inches away from it. He began to kiss lower and lower until he kissed on top of your folds, causing you to let out a small sigh.

“You need to promise me you won’t try to remain quiet,” he spoke, “I wish to hear you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

The King parted your folds with his tongue, flicking at your pearl, causing your legs to buckle involuntarily. Aegon’s hands moved to your ass, grabbing the flesh there to steady you, pushing you against his face. He licked and sucked at anything he could, excited to be the first to taste you, eager to hear the noises you made when pleasured.

The pleasure was unlike anything you had experienced from the few men you had been with. You let out a whine as your hands found their way to Aegon’s head, lightly pulling his hair as you threw your head back, grateful for the grip holding you in place.

Aegon ran one hand down to your thigh, lifting your leg until it was over his shoulder, giving him easier access to you. You continued to hold his head, steadying yourself to avoid completely falling over. Aegon moaned into your core at the feeling of your hands in his hair.

You were worried he was making a noise of disapproval, and you quickly removed your hands from his head. “My apologies, Your Grace, I should not touch you without your request,” you sighed, fighting with all your might to speak a coherent sentence as his tongue continued to swirl around your bud.

He briefly removed his mouth from your core to say, “don’t you fucking dare stop.”

His Grace immediately dipped his head back between your thighs, a loud moan leaving your lips at the sudden feeling, your hands returning to his hair at his request.

“Your Grace,” you moaned, your inner core beginning to tighten at the constant feeling of his mouth on you.

Aegon came up for air. “Just Aegon,” he said.

“Your Grace, I should not c-call you by your name,” you choked out, “i-it is not a-appropriate.”

Aegon sighed in frustration. He just wanted to make you come, and you kept overthinking the situation and interrupting his actions. “It is appropriate if I say it is appropriate. If I tell you to call me Aegon, you call me Aegon.”

You did not combat him, you simply allowed him to continue tasting you as your high approached. His tongue moved faster and faster, your whimpers turning into gasps and moans.

“Aegon!” you cried as your high washed over you, his tongue slowing as he pressed one final kiss to your lower stomach, his hands dropping from your ass, causing your legs to shake and buckle.

You started to fall, but he caught your waist, standing up and taking you with him. You jumped and wrapped your legs around his waist, his arms holding you up as he walked you two over to the bed.

He slammed your back against the sheets, hovering over you as you attempted to catch your breath.

He kissed you, the tenderness of the moment taking you by surprise. The moment remained intimate and sweet until his hand found its way to your throat, rings cold against your skin as he gave a slight squeeze.

You gasped at the feeling, which only made Aegon squeeze a little harder. His hand remained still as his lips found your breasts.

“Take this off,” he said of the final piece of clothing left on your body. You untied the strings centered on your chest, loosening the garment until it was untied completely, exposing you entirely to The King. He ripped the clothing out from under you and discarded it on the floor, eyes focused on your breasts.

He was staring at you for so long that you became worried he was disappointed.

“Is there something wrong, Your Grace?” you asked, attempting to recenter his attention.

Aegon’s eyes finally moved from your breasts, meeting your eyes. “Nothing is wrong,” was all he said before averting his gaze back to your chest again.

“Would you prefer me to remain covered?” You felt heavy under his gaze, as if he was inspecting you, finding every little fault. You began to pull the sheets up to drape over yourself, but Aegon gripped your wrist, causing you to drop the sheets.

“Do not even attempt to cover yourself again, understood? I’ve already gone much too long without a sight this pretty.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” you replied.

Aegon took one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking harshly, as if he thought the more he sucked, the higher the likelihood that something would leak out. His tongue swirled around your nipple, his hand finally leaving your throat to squeeze the unattended breast.

The curtain to the room swung open, the Madam standing at the entrance. Aegon, with no urgency whatsoever, detached himself from your breast, glaring at the woman.

“Forgive me, My King, I simply wanted to make sure she remains to your liking?” the Madam checked in, nervous of your performance and ability to satisfy her most coveted patron.

“Have I ever deemed it proper to interrupt me?” Aegon spat, angry at the intrusion, “answer me.”

“You have not, Your Grace, I was simply-“

“You were simply interrupting,” Aegon started, shifting his body so that you were trapped between his legs, “and I did not give you authority to ever do such a thing. Get out.”

“My apologies, Your Grace, it will not h-“

“Get. Out.”

The Madam bowed and left without another word, Aegon letting out a frustrated sigh as the curtains fell back into one another, leaving you alone with him once again.

“Does she make a habit of checking in on you?” Aegon asked you.

“She never has, but I am newer, and I believe she means well.”

“Does she not think you capable of pleasing a man?”

“To speak candidly, she does not think me capable of pleasing you, Your Grace,” you told him honestly.

“You seem to be doing a fine job,” Aegon said, dipping his head to kiss your neck, a hand finding its way back to your breasts, a finger playing with your nipple between squeezes.

“T-thank you, Aegon,” you replied.

Aegon groaned at your words. Even though you were thanking him for his compliment, it sounded so pretty, as if you were thanking him for his touch. He needed more, and you noticed.

He lined his cock up at your entrance, watching your face as he slowly pushed into you, your mouth dropping open and your head tilting back at his size. You gasped when he bottomed out inside of you, his cock large enough to hit further back than you anticipated.

He studied your face, watching your brow crease as he pulled only a little out of you before slamming it back in, causing your body to jolt slightly with the movement. He began to slowly rock into you, a small whine leaving your lips with each thrust.

You remembered his earlier groan, and praised him. “Thank you,” you sighed out as he slowly fucked into you, the feeling igniting your entire body.

“Thank you for what?” Aegon asked, eager to hear you speak more.

He picked up the pace, fucking into you faster and faster, your body rocking with each thrust of his hips. “T-thank you, Aegon, you feel s-so g-good,” you whined.

“Yeah? You like the way your king fucks you, pretty girl?”

“Y-yes,” you praised, “thank you, A-Aegon.”

Your words were making him feral, rendering him completely unable to control himself. He began to fuck you at a ruthless pace, one hand finding its way to your breasts, squeezing and flicking your nipple to add to your pleasure.

Your back arched in response, whines and whimpers falling from your lips with no chance of stopping.

“I want you to scream so loud that there is no question of whether or not I am pleased by you,” Aegon moaned.

“Y-yes, Aegon,” you whimpered, the feeling of his hips hitting yours with every hard thrust driving you closer and closer to the edge again.

He folded his body a bit, leaning down to kiss your breasts again, sucking as he continued to fuck you. Your hands found his head, playing with his hair as he bit down on your breast.

You squeaked a moan, the sudden pain catching you off guard. It only made Aegon like you more, each and every new noise pulling him further and further in. He couldn’t get enough. You were intoxicating him; he loved knowing that barely anyone had had you, and that no one would ever compare to him when more did. He was growing too used to his usual whores, and you excited something within him as you pulled his hair, and feeling being exactly what he wanted from you.

He bit at the pure flesh of your breast, licking and sucking at the spot immediately after to care for the slight mark. “Aegon, fuck,” you moaned.

His pace began to feel sloppy, his thrusts becoming more and more erratic as he chased his high.

“I need you to come,” he said.

“I- I-“ your high was approaching and Aegon knew it. He could feel you squeezing his cock, and he was losing self control, all too close to releasing inside of you. He needed you to come again before he could allow himself to, but he was losing it.

“Come for me,” he begged, “do what your king says.”

The demanding nature of the request combined with the neediness of his begging only added to your arousal, your high hitting you hard as you squeezed Aegon’s cock for dear life. “Aegon!” you screamed, sure everyone could hear.

“Good girl,” Aegon cooed at your volume.

The combination of the feeling of you coming and the sight of your breasts bouncing with each thrust drove Aegon close to his own high, grateful that you came so he could follow suit.

He tried to stop it, he tried to convince himself it wasn’t right, but he could not help himself- he remained inside of you as he came, a moan leaving his lips as his last few thrusts shot his seed deep within you, the thought of how pretty your breasts would be if they were full of milk completely clouding his mind in the moment.

He pulled out of you as he calmed down, falling down onto your body and positioning his head on your chest.

He remained laying on you for several minutes, enjoying the feeling of your breasts beneath his head, the makeshift pillows soothing him.

“Your Grace, is there anything else you require of me? Is there anything else I can do that will please you?” you asked after a while, unsure of how long he wanted to remain in your presence.

“Stay,” he said, “resting on you pleases me.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” you responded, running your fingers through his hair, allowing him to take a deep breath as he moved a hand to your breast, squeezing and playing with the flesh as he calmed down.

You remained still, allowing him this comfort as you settled in to the bed.

“You may tell your Madam that you satisfied me greatly,” he spoke after a few minutes, pushing himself up and standing as he found his clothing.

“Yes, Your Grace,” you responded.

Aegon redressed himself, stopping in front of you before exiting the room. “And you can tell her I expect to see you again.”

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen fanfic #aegon targaryen smut #aegon targaryen imagines #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #house of the dragon #aegon targaryen #asks

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absurdthirst · 2 months

Text

Ordinatio {Marcus Acacius x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 15.4k

Warnings: Political intrigue, force/arranged marriage, mentions of infertility, vaginal fingering, rough sex, unprotected sex, breast play, nipple biting, riding, talks of family planning, pull out game, attempted theft, brutal attack, Marcus going feral, mentions of pregnancy, betrayal, gladiatorial violence

Comments: Forced to marry general Marcus Acacius, you are ordered by your emperors to spy on him in order to make sure that he is not indulging in traitorous acts. Quickly falling for the war roughened solider, you must risk the wrath of the Emperors in order to possibly have a future with him.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Marcus Acacius MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Swallowing harshly, you wait for the carriage to stop in front of the palace that towers over the city below on Palatine Hill. The shuffle of the Praetorian guards always makes you nervous, they answer only to the emperor and would kill anyone they deem a threat. It’s nerve wracking to be summoned so late at night that the torches that normally light the streets were burned out and the silence makes echoes through the darkness. Your cloak covers your hair, hastily fashioned when your household was disturbed merely an hour ago. Just the order that you were to appear before Geta and Caracalla as soon as you dress. The carriage had been waiting outside and your servant was pushed away when she tried to join you. Leaving you alone with the guards to travel just outside the city. Everything looks ominous at night, maybe it’s because your late husband so often spoke of the rot beneath the surface, but you still shiver. Jumping slightly when the door opens and you are helped out and directed to follow the flowing cape of the guard into the large palace.

You are escorted through the halls until you enter a room to the side of the court, the fires burning and casting shadows on the marbled walls. You stand there, two guards on either side of the door, and you are there for several moments until the Emperors both stride in and you bow your head, heart thumping as you await the reason why you’ve been brought here in the middle of the night.

You shiver when you see the two most powerful men in all of Rome. Uneasy by their almost manic expressions as Geta practically giggles. “This will be perfect, Caracalla.” He coos, stepping unreasonably close to you and gripping your chin so he can examine your face. “What do you think?”

“She will be perfect.” Caracalla giggles, eyes manic and they inspect you, dragging up and down your body. “He will not be able to resist her once she is in his possession.” You frown, not liking where this could be going. “You are to marry General Marcus Acacius.” Geta declares and claps, you resist the urge to pull your chin from the Emperor’s grip. You open your mouth before you think better of it, allowing the Emperor to continue, “you’ll marry him and report back to us any conversations or exchanges he has with anyone in the Senate or the army.” Geta orders and you cannot withhold your tongue, “marry the General to spy on him?” You ask and Caracalla giggles, “yes.” Geta sighs, “your late husband was a good man. Misguided in his views to an extent but we know he would’ve married a good woman. You are still young, it is sad to see you widowed.” You don’t buy their false concern for your being. “And the General?” You question softly and Geta continues, “we fear the General has become too…influential in court and in the Senate. We wish to discover if he has plans to establish a coup. We wish to avoid killing our General if we can. Perhaps you could…influence him to withhold any plans of attack.” Geta hums and Caracalla smirks, “with your cunt.” Your chin is finally released and you offer them a stiff smile, “the General is not a stupid man, he would recognize the ruse.” You say, knowing you’ll be killed if you refuse. No one denies the Emperor of Rome.

“He will not if we order the marriage. He still mourns his wife and child. Perhaps giving him something outside of war will mellow him from any unwanted…advances to the palace.” Caracalla raises his eyebrows, “do you not think you are up to the task?” He dares you and you swallow, “I- I will not disappoint you.” You promise, praying the idea fades with the sunrise and you can continue living in your villa without need for a husband. “Excellent. We shall inform the General of your wish to marry once the sun has risen. You may go.” Geta dismisses you with a wave of his hand. “Yes, Emperor.” You bow your head and back towards the door until they say your name, “fail us and you will be fed to the lions.” Geta warns and Caracalla’s shrieks of delight echo off the marbled walls. You nod, bowing your head again and you rush out the room once the guards open the doors. You have to make a plan to survive, to escape from under the thumb of the Emperor.

Marcus sighs as he adjusts the cuff around his wrist. It’s elaborate and unnecessary. Just like the laurel wreath he wears in his hair. The trappings of Rome had once held appeal when he was younger, brasher. When his wife was here to greet him with a lusty kiss and promises of pleasures far beyond what he had imagined while laying in his cold tent outside the battlefields. Those dreams had long since been buried with her and the child she had suffered to bring into the world only to be lifeless when he slipped from her womb. Leaving him alone to focus on war and follow orders. Orders that he is increasingly uneasy with, the regrets of battle following him and the weariness of the continuous fight weighing on him. Roman conquests need to be countered with prudence, allowing the people to flourish in other parts of the realm instead of just the grandiose of the capital. He taps his hand on his knee as he waits, looking out over the olive trees in the gardens below and he wonders what war the emperors have decided to wage now, the senate unwilling or unable to keep them in check.

“Ah General Acacius, thank you for joining us.” Geta crows as he swaggers into the room, Caracalla’s eyes manic and a grin on his face as he approaches Marcus. “Emperors.” He bows his head after he stands up, the laurel flashing in the sunlight coming through the linens covering the balcony. “So glad you could come on such short notice. We have some wonderful news to share.” Caracalla smirks and Geta continues by saying your name. “She is the widow of Senator Gracchus?” Marcus tilts his head, recognizing your name and he knows you from events thrown in the palace. “Yes. She is young, widowed at such a young age with no father to oversee her. She must marry again. And she will marry you.” Geta declares like it’s an honor.

Marcus pauses, his jaw tightening slightly and he clasps his hands together in front of his robes. “That is…..a great honor.” He says stiffly, immediately opposed to the idea, but he has to tread carefully with the emperors. They are impetuous at the best of times and have never learned how to accept rejection. Why would they have to when the world bows to their whims? “I fear that I would be unable to provide for a wife of such a status.” He adds, making it actually sound as if he has regret. “I spend so much time away from Rome, fighting for my emperors.” He sighs. “I fear that the young widow would not be happy with a husband such as I. Perhaps one closer to the senate might be more suitable?”

“She does not wish to have another senator husband. She wants protector. Someone who can provide for her in ways other than coin. She expressly wishes for a gladiator and you are our most prized fighter. You are worthy of a high bred woman like her. Consider this a reward for your loyalty to Rome.” Geta insists, not letting Marcus push off the marriage. You must marry him. “A union like this will bring our fighters good spirit so they win our battles. Knowing they too could possess such a woman would motivate them to fight harder. The people want to see their General happy and we-” Geta gestures between him and Caracalla, “wish to award our greatest fighter with a grand prize. She is self sufficient, running her late husband’s household which we will assign to his brother as he had no direct heir. She will ensure your home is cared for and warm your cock at night.”

There is no way that he can reject the woman without offending the emperors. It seems as if he has no choice right now but to accept this. “You honor me.” He bows slowly, seething inside. He doesn’t know you, he doesn’t want to know you. He has no need for a wife and can have all the companionship he desires if he just wants his cock warmed.

A horse neighs as a soldier brings news from the palace and you scramble when your servant brings you the scroll. You quickly unroll it, praying to the gods that you have been released from your duty and your shoulders drop when you read that you are to marry Acacius in two days time. Your villa will be transferred to the hands of your brother in law, Albus, as you are to move into the General’s villa. You fall into your chair as you reread the scroll. It’s over. You must marry and you are to be under the control of the Emperors. You could run, try to escape into the countryside but you know they would find you. No one escapes Rome. No matter how far you go, you will be found. You swallow harshly, tears stinging in your eyes, and you look up when Antonia enters, “is everything okay, matronae?” She asks and you nod, sniffing to control your emotions. “I wish for you to pack my things, I am to be wed to General Marcus Acacius. I will need to relocate to his residence after we are wed in two days' time.” You declare and her eyes widen, knowing of no existing relationship between you and the General. “Ye-yes, matronae.” She nods and rushes off, leaving you to wallow in your unfortunate luck.

“I will not do it!” The crockery shatters against the marble walls of the villa. The servant who had just brought the meal scurrying out of the room in order to avoid Marcus’s wrath. His chest heaves as he looks at the ruined meal, food scattered and his situation still just as hopeless as it had been moments before. “Fuck.” He hisses, dropping back onto the chair and reaching for the cup of wine that he hopes will drown his sorrow. He will be married in two days’ time. Another wife to bear his name and his children. He scoffs to himself and puts the wine to his lips. You had not born Gracchus any children so perhaps you are barren. It would be the gods favoring him if you were. He has no desire to have children, to leave a legacy behind. The pride he had for Rome had slowly eroded away over the years and campaigns, leaving him with a hollowness he can never tell anyone about. “Fuck.” He slams the cup down and rubs his hand over his face. The villa will be ready when you arrive, the servants already informed, he just needs to accept it himself.

You bid goodbye to the servants that you’ve overseen since you arrived at your late husband’s villa. They look sad to see you go and you take that as a compliment. You sigh and only Antonia follows you as you are helped into the quadriga as you depart for the palace. Your hair styled by your servant and the red veil placed over your head as you ride to your fate. The General will be waiting for his bride and you pray you don’t disappoint him. You’ve seen glimpses of him but you’ve never been able to properly look upon the man. “All will be well.” Antonia promises as she reaches for your hand to squeeze it. “I hope so.” You whisper, knowing this will be a life or death situation for you. When you arrive at the palace, you are helped out of the carriage and escorted up the stairs to the doors to the grand hall. You glance around, “am I not allowed to see my intended before we wed?” You ask the guard who doesn’t say a word. You swallow harshly and Antonia rubs your arm before she checks your long tunic, ensuring you are a beautiful bride. “Thank you, Antonia.” You murmur and she offers you a sweet smile, “I will be with you with every step, matronae.” She promises and you squeeze her hand and take a deep breath just as the doors open to reveal a grand hall full of the members of the court and Senate. The Emperors standing on the balcony with what seems like the entire Roman Empire watching below as General Marcus Acacius stands there dressed in white with a golden laurel atop his head.

Of course Geta and Caracalla have turned this into an ostentatious event. He would have preferred something intimate, or nothing at all. However, the emperors had other plans and invited the entire senate to witness the marriage. Marcus doesn’t flinch, standing tall and watching as you walk towards him. The red veil covers your face and he can make out your features as you move closer. You are a beautiful woman, but he’s never paid much attention to another man’s wife. Now you will become his wife.

You inhale deeply as you take a step up to the balcony and the General holds his hand out to help you. You thank him softly and the Emperors grin. Marriage is usually informal, decided upon between families and within the home but the Emperors planned for a spectacle. “We welcome you here to witness the marriage of a great Roman General, Marcus Acacius. He is to wed the widow of Senator Gracchus.” Geta announces and Marcus releases your hand. The marriage scroll is laid out on the table and you have no dowry. Lacking a father along with your late husband accepting your dowry, you have nothing to give but yourself. A fact that the general doesn’t seem to care about. The crowd cheers and the court claps, making you feel more like you’re about to become Empress than the general’s wife. “Let us witness their union. A gift from Rome to her greatest warrior.” Geta declares and the crowd cheer, making your hands shake slightly. “Now, join hands.” He orders and you nod, joining your shaky hands with Acacius who frowns as he grips your hands in his large ones.

Marcus doesn’t like the idea of you being a gift. Not caring for the implication you are being forced, even if both of you are. The whims of the emperors must be met. Your hand is small in his, soft. You are a woman of nobility, you are not used to rough men. That is what he is, despite the finery of his costume. He remembers a different wedding, a lifetime ago in the small parlor of his late wife’s house. He had been so excited then, and now he is hesitating to say the words that are expected. “Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia.” He murmurs, his voice low and clear.

You swallow harshly, your throat dry as the Emperors look to you expectedly. You look at

Acacius and lick your lips. Caracalla shifts, his eyes narrowing slightly and you manage to choke out “ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia,” to seal yourself in marriage to the general. The Emperors grin and you know there’s no escaping this fate. Your union must be sealed with a kiss so you let go of Marcus’s hands and wait for him to lift your veil.

Marcus stares at you. Almost surprised to find that you are so young. He feels much older compared to your youthful beauty and he leans in, pressing his lips to yours in a brief kiss while everyone around erupts into cheers. The marriage contract will still need to be signed, but the two of you are married in the eyes of Rome.

The cheers roar in your ears but you blank it out, focused on the rough looking man in front of you who is now your husband. The Emperor snaps his fingers and his servant carries over the papyrus that will be the marriage contract between you and General Acacius. “Please sign to join in matrimony with your intended.” Greta orders you and you swallow, picking up the pen to sign your name on the marriage contract. Your hand shakes and you hesitate, not wanting to marry the man beside you but you have no choice. Caracalla stares at you, a menacing look on his face that has you scribbling your name in fear of the consequences of not marrying the General. You look up to see the grin of glee on the Emperor’s face and you stand up, handing the pen to Marcus.

Sighing softly, Marcus leans over and scribbles his name beside yours. Making the marriage contract legal and binding. You are now his wife in truth. “Excellent!” Geta claps his hands together. “Now we will slaughter a dozen pigs, sacrificing them to the gods for a blessed union!” It’s excessive and disgustingly wasteful, making Marcus curl his lip slightly. The animals would not feed anyone, and people in Rome were buckling under the expense of war.

You want to suggest a cake for Jupiter but you will not argue with the Emperors. You swallow harshly and the Emperors clap, approaching the balcony edge to declare the union. The crowd cheers, “feliciter!” and the Emperors spin around to both cheer, “let us feast.” You look at Marcus whose jaw is clenched and you bite your inner cheek, imagining he is not pleased with you, you are not young enough, pure enough. You have no dowry to provide. Perhaps you’re not pretty enough for him. Lacking in all aspects. You don’t have time to dwell on it when Antonia comes for you to prepare you for the feast. You look at Marcus as you are taken away and he nods, his laurel shining like he’s Mars himself standing there.

He has a wife. A woman that he knows nothing about is now under his care and carrying his name. He receives the congratulations of the Senate, aware that they are all just as confused as he is by the speed and celebration of the events. Especially when neither he nor you look particularly happy. Marcus had noticed how nervous you had seemed and had wondered if it was because of the emperor’s attentions or if you did not care to be under a man’s thumb again. He is aware of the way the two most powerful men are carefully watching him as he shakes hands with the senators, keeping his conversations brief because he knows Geta and Caracalla would rather be feasting than talking. They love to drink and carouse, and he hopes that the wedding feast they have prepared will not turn into the orgies they are becoming known for.

Antonia removes your veil and restyles your hair for the reception. She reaches into the pocket for the bottle of perfume oil, rubbing it into your skin to refresh you and you exhale shakily, realizing you are married once again. “I hope he is not cruel.” You confess to Antonia who shakes her head, “I spoke with one of his house servants, he is strict but does not hit them. I pray to the gods he treats his wife the same.” She whispers, knowing that most nobles would smack her for speaking as she does but you request her candid nature. “Very well, let’s return and feast. I am anxious for wine to calm my nerves.” You confess and Antonia nods, escorting you to the hall where the feast is being laid out for the guests.

Marcus has not yet sat down. Always finding it rude when a man would put his own comfort before that of his wife. While training with him, he had heard stories of Maximus’s devotion to the woman he had loved, the care in which he had treated her when she was alive before Commodus had her brutally murdered. He had treated his first wife the same way and had been rewarded with the loyalty and love that he had cherished when he was away. Eyes turn towards you when you arrive and Marcus is once again struck by your beauty, your slight apprehension as you look around for him and the surprise that he is not already feasting.

Antonia escorts you to the table where your husband sits alongside the Emperors who are gulping down wine like it’s going to evaporate at any moment. Antonia bows her head and rushes off to the servants area, watching you while Marcus pulls your chair out and gestures for you to sit. “Thank you.” You murmur, taking your seat and he sits down beside you, his posture stiff as you look at the food on display. “My Emperors have been most generous in their hosting of our union.” You declare to Marcus so Geta and Caracalla hear you, wanting to ensure they are in good spirits so you can leave the feast earlier than expected.

“Yes.” Marcus finds it to be a lavish expense that is completely unnecessary, but so many of the Emperor’s decisions cost the people of Rome. “The excess is very abundant.” He picks up the cup of wine that is at his plate and offers it up in a toast. “To Rome and her glory.” He offers. “And our Emperors that make it so.”

“To Rome and her glory.” You toast and Caracalla giggles, holding up his golden goblet. “And your Emperors.” He adds with raised eyebrows. “And her Emperors.” You declare with a stiff smile. You know you are playing a dangerous game with the manic leaders. Any moment they could change their mind and have you killed. You doubt you’ll be able to report anything on the general. He seems reserved and only speaks when he feels he has something of substance to add. He doesn’t speak at all while you enjoy the meats, cheeses, and fruits on display in front of you. You gesture for another cup of wine when Caracalla tuts, “you really shouldn’t drink so much. It’s unbecoming of the bride to be drunk when she takes her husband’s cock for the first time.”

Marcus’s brow arches up, wondering why the emperor is so invested in this marriage being consummated. Your fingers pull back from the cup as if you are being rebuked and the servant pulls the carafe of wine away, but Marcus turns around to take it himself, refilling your cup. “There is no celebration without wine.” He reminds them, refilling his own cup as well. “She has been a wife before, she knows what is expected of her.” The truth is, he has no intention of bedding you tonight, he doesn’t know you and he feels as if you don’t want him. This is a marriage that was forced on both of you by the whims of madmen.

Your eyebrows raise slightly at the defiance shown by Marcus. Something that would’ve gotten him killed if he were of a lower rank. Geta stares as Marcus takes a sip of wine and you follow your husband, taking a gulp as the Emperor tilts his head. It’s Caracalla that breaks the tension by throwing his head back and laughing, “this is true. She is no virgin. She has been trained and therefore should satisfy our great general before he has to venture off to claim more land for Rome and her people.” The Emperor grins and raises his goblet towards you. You offer him a stiff smile and glance around the room at the court and senate feasting while the people of Rome suffer for their gluttony. The feast continues with Geta and Caracalla standing up to mingle around the room, wanting to boast about their perfect match. “Shall we return to your villa? I am certain you wish to bed me and get some rest after such an arduous day.” You ask your husband softly.

He nods, figuring that he could speak with you in private without guards or servants around. It is rare to be able to speak freely. “Your possessions arrived earlier today and my servants unpacked them, but I am sure you wish to have things set up to your liking.” He murmurs as he stands up and reaches for your hand. “Do you have many servants coming with you?”

“Just one. Antonia. The others were my late - were Gracchus. They belong to his brother now.” You reveal and he nods as you take his hand. It’s calloused and engulfs yours, making you apprehensive that such a strong man could easily break you. You approach the Emperors and bow your head as your husband announces your departure.

Geta chuckles and nods. “Eager to fill her.” He claps Marcus’s shoulder and motions for the two of you to leave. “I do not blame you for wanting to feel the clutch of her cunt around your cock. The spoils of your latest conquest.” His shrill laughter grates on the general’s ears and he doesn’t do more than simply nod. “We have much to do.” He agrees.

Marcus escorts you through the bustling hall, Antonia and his own men on your trail as he takes you to the carriage that is waiting to bring you to his villa. Marcus helps you up into the carriage and you settle in to watch the city pass by on your silent journey to his villa. “I know that neither of us wanted to be wed but we must do what is required of us so we do not endure the wrath of the emperors. I wish for you to bed me tonight. To consummate the marriage as I do not trust that the Emperors do not have eyes watching our moves. If we fail to indulge them in our union, we will suffer.” You whisper, keeping your face turned away from your husband.

Marcus snorts softly and sighs. “I do not rape on a battlefield and I would not do so in my own bed.” He tells you. “We can send the servants away and say that we have fulfilled our marriage duties.” He knows you are uneasy so he doesn’t touch you. “I will not take a woman by force or coercion.”

You turn to look at him, his face flickered with each lamppost you pass, and you are surprised. Most men would have accepted your offer to have a warm cunt to spill inside without any care to how you feel or what you wish. “Thank you.” You whisper, knowing in that moment that the stories of the brutal warrior that fights for Rome has not returned to her streets. The man beside you is slow in his movements and you realize that he’s trying not to spook you. “I am no stranger to married life and I have heard that you were married too. I am sorry for the loss of your wife and child. I cannot - I cannot imagine-” You reach for his hand, “I lost my husband but I did not love him. My father arranged the marriage to guarantee his connections to the senate and we never were blessed with children. He was older, I was his third wife after his previous wives died from disease and a snake bite. He was unlucky and I do miss his companionship but I never loved him.” You confess, wanting your husband to know your history.

“Then you have my deepest sympathies that your second marriage is also not of your choosing.” Marcus looks down at your smaller hand in his and there is a moment where his heart jolts. You are soft and sweet and deserve much more than him. “My uxor- we loved each other very much. She was everything to me.” He admits. “I had thought to never marry again after burying her and our son.”

You squeeze his hand, “I’m sorry that you’ve been pushed into this but I want you to know that I would never try to take her place. This is an arrangement forced upon us. Your wife will be your true love. I am here to help with your household and provide you with a confidant if that is what you wish for.”

“You are a beautiful and youthful woman.” He murmurs honestly. “You won’t want to find pleasure?” He asks, wanting there to be honestly between both of you if this union is to be successful in the eyes of the Emperors. “What do you want out of this arrangement?”

“I want freedom. I have been running the household for a year and I wish to have my freedom, to not be under the control of my husband’s whims. I will provide for you a stable household and in return, I want to spend my time indulging in painting and needlework. My hobbies.” You confess, “and for pleasure…I have never known such a thing other than from my own hand.” You admit, “you cannot yearn for what you have not experienced.”

Marcus is stunned that you have never known pleasure. He would be lying if he did not immediately think to offer to show you pleasure. He could give it to you, he knows that. Even the whores that he sometimes uses that follows the army find pleasure with him. “I am gone from the city much of the time.” He reminds you. “The household is more yours than mine. The servants will do what you tell them to. Your time is yours to decide how to spend it.”

You nod, letting go of his hand, “thank you. Then we are in agreement. Our union will be one of convenience and to satisfy the whims of the Emperors. I will not sully your name by seeking pleasure from others.” You promise, “and I understand if you find your pleasure while you are away.” You’re a pragmatic woman, you know men need to find their pleasure.

“That will not happen.” Marcus admits. “It would be dishonorable to take another woman to my bed while you are my uxor.” He has a code that he follows. Even if he did not want to be married, he will not tarnish his reputation by seeking pleasure somewhere else. “I have a hand.”

You frown, knowing that most men would take your invitation and find the first whore to bury himself in. "Very well. We shall live our lives...together but separated." You declare just as you arrive at Villa Acacius. Marcus opens the door and holds out his hand, helping you out and you look up at your new home. It's not as grand as the Senator's home but it is beautiful. You enter the courtyard and smile at the servants awaiting your arrival.

Marcus normally allows the servants to run his household, not carrying much about the schedule of things as long as the place is clean. Now you might change things so he leads you over to them. “This is your new matronae, my uxor.” He introduces you. “She will oversee your work and any changes she wishes to make are to be treated as if they came from me.” He orders.

The servants nod, greeting you and some are more enthusiastic than others. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all. I want to observe during my first days here and then I will discuss what I’d like to change with input from you all on what you consider to be best.” You declare and some are shocked that you are considering their opinions. “My job begins tomorrow. For now, I’d like to retire to our rooms.” You declare and Antonia steps from behind you, “this is Antonia, my handmaid. She will be continuing her duties by my side.” You announce and the staff nod.

Marcus is pleased with the way that the introductions went and he turns around to stride off towards his room. He knows that you will have to sleep there, with him, but he needs a moment to change out of the cumbersome robes he had worn to get married in. Preferring a plainer, softer tunic when he is home.

You watch him go and Antonia is speaking with the women who give her a briefing on your new home. Antonia nods and turns back towards you, “let us get you ready for bed, matronae.” She says and you follow her to the room near where Marcus is changing. The room along from there is the bedchamber and you close your eyes as Antonia takes your hair out of its style to allow you to relax and you’re soon wearing a thin tunic, ready for bed. “I hope he treats you well, matronae.” She murmurs and squeezes your hand before she leaves you. You inhale shakily and enter the room you will be sharing with the general to find him standing there, shoulders broad in the thin tunic and he is looking to the streets below. “All is well?” You ask, letting him know of your presence.

Marcus turns and is struck by your beauty as he sees you in the simple tunics and your hair down. The jewelry is gone and you look like you are much younger than your years. It makes him feel older all of a sudden and he wonders again why the emperors would give you to him. “As well as can be expected.” He answers, watching as you look towards the bed warily as if you expect him to break his promise from earlier and throw you down on it. “I will sleep on the floor.” He assures you, making you drown. “That is not- it’s your bed.” You protest and Marcus snorts. “I have spent many nights sleeping on a rocky ground without a blanket.” He reminds you. “A floor with cushions will be a luxury.” He shrugs. “I wish to put you at ease.” He admits. “I will not take what is not offered, and you have no reason to offer if you find no pleasure in fucking.”

You stare at him and sigh, “I do not wish to cast my husband from his bed. We are well aware of the sexual act and what it takes to copulate. We can be adults and share a bed so you do not wake with an aching back.” You announce as you walk over to the bed. “I am weary. It’s been a long day. Get in bed and sleep, Marcus.” You order, not wanting to argue about this.

He stares at you for a moment and there is a hint of amusement that softens his features. “If you were a man, you would make a good general.” He hums, moving to the bed and throwing back the soft, clean sheets. “Come rest.” He urges once he has sat down.

You nod and sit on the bed, swinging your legs in and you pull the sheets up after Marcus slides under them. “I know I wasn’t what you wanted but I want to make this work.” You murmur and he hums, “we will.” He promises and you sigh, closing your eyes after he blows out the candle. You will need to report to the Emperors with something about him at some point and you already feel like you’re betraying him. “Goodnight.” You whisper and close your eyes as you fall asleep within moments, unable to worry about being in a strange place when you are exhausted.

Marcus lays in the darkness, listening to your breathing as it starts to slow down. The soft rustle of the sheets when you move. Looking over at you as the moon casts a pale glow through the sheer curtains covering the balcony. It’s a curse that you are so beautiful right now, since it has been some time since he has had a woman in his bed. His cock twitches as he imagines touching you, but he doesn’t reach out. Turning away and looking at the stand where his sword is displayed, sighing softly as he wonders how long it will be before the emperors send him off to war again.

You may have fallen asleep right away but you wake in the middle of the night. The moon is high in the sky and it takes you a moment to remember where you are. You inhale sharply when you remember you’re in Marcus’s villa. In your new home. You exhale and lean back onto the bed, looking over at the muscular back of your new husband. He’s handsome, no denying that fact, and he’s strong. Capable. Smart. All qualities to want in a man. You wonder what his desires are. He hasn’t been married for 20 years and you wonder who he fucks. He can’t be celibate. He’s a general. You’re not stupid enough to think he hasn’t slept with whores. You wonder if he pleasured them or simply took what he wanted. You can see his golden skin illuminated by the moon, moles and scars mapping his life before you and you can’t help but reach out to gently trace a path, your touch feather light. He grunts and you withdraw your hand, eyes wide at the idea of being caught. You sigh when he settles back down and you lean back on your side. Staring up at the ceiling, you imagine him giving you pleasure. You’ve read about it plenty of times but your late husband always fucked you to fill you. There was never a day in bed pleasuring each other. He had business to attend to in the senate and he didn’t have time for silly things like making his wife cum.

Marcus had woken up the second you touched him. Feigning sleep as he waited for you to slip from the bed. Only to feel you roll away from him and sigh. He wonders if you are regretting this, if you are doubtful of your future even though you had seemed to trust him enough to fall asleep. You grunt quietly and sigh, like you are thinking about something that is uncomfortable. “What keeps you awake, uxor?” He asks quietly in the dark.

His deep, sleep laden voice makes you squeak and you turn to look at him, his back still facing you. You bite your lip, wondering if you should lie or tell him the truth. You are no longer a young innocent bride. You were a widow, matured by loss. "I was wondering if you pleasured the lovers you've had during your time of being a widow." You declare, cheeks burning but you speak without wavering.

Marcus grunts slightly, the sheets rustling as he turns over to look at you. His dark eyes searching your face for some clue of what you are thinking. “Unless they cry out to gods falsely, I would say yes.” Marcus tells you, not bragging, but speaking honestly. “I do not like false attempts to flatter me and I prefer that a woman leave my bed with a smile on her face.”

You appreciate his candid response and you decide to be bold. You sit up, shifting to look down at him and you drop the sheets from your body. "I have never cried to the gods. My last husband would penetrate me without caring if I was wet enough before he would push into me. He would spill inside me and then go about his day, leaving me with my legs up in hopes of conceiving his child. He never - he never gave me pleasure or made sure I was enjoying myself." Marcus makes a noise of disappointment but you don't let him comment when you quickly add, "I want you to fuck me. Like you would a camp whore. I want you to make me cry your name so every god will hear me on Capitolium."

Pushing up to his elbow, Marcus stares at you seriously. “The camp whores are used to…rougher sex.” He warns you. “After war, after the killing- the urges to fuck are rough. There isn’t the pretty lovemaking that is slow and sweet.” His cock hardened even now thinking of it. “It’s hard and deep. Enough to steal your breath and make your tits shake from the force of my thrusts.” He arches a brow. “Are you sure that is what you want? I am sure your senator husband didn’t fuck you like I would.”

His words combined with his deep voice makes your cunt clench and dampen, and you lean closer to him, "my husband didn't make me see stars. He didn't make me cry. I want you to fuck me like you do those whores. Make me scream for all of Rome to hear. I can handle it. I can take it."

This time, the kiss Marcus gives you isn’t chaste. It’s not a quick pressing of his lips to yours to appease the Emperors. This is wet, carnal. Lunging forward and capturing your lips with his and sliding his tongue into your mouth as he rolls you onto your back. Completely and instantaneously taking over as his fingers reach for the hem of your tunic.

You gasp into his mouth, tongue meeting his and you whine when he breaks the kiss to drag your tunic up your body, tossing it down on the marbled floor. You shiver as the cool night air hits your skin and he shifts to kneel, his dark eyes looking down at you. You look up at him and reach for the hem of his tunic, already tenting with his arousal. "I want to see my husband."

He has no problem being naked, revealing himself for you. He pulls his tunic up and his cock catches, starting to bob as he pulls it up over his head and tosses it aside. “Spread your legs for me, bella.” He growls, his voice raspy and full of command. “Let me see my wife’s cunt.”

You are already wet just from the strength he displays and you whimper, spreading your legs for him and your slick is shiny in the moonlight as you put yourself on show for your new general husband.

Marcus groans, his large hands squeezing your thighs and then moving down to your hips, holding them as his thumbs spread apart the lips of your sex and his cock twitches. Sliding his fingers through your folds until he is circling your entrance with two fingers until they are wet with your desire and he pushes them inside your slick walls. “Perfect.”

You moan when his thick digits push into you, stretching you out. Your hands itch to touch him so you reach down to wrap your fingers around his cock. “Not yet.” He growls, batting your hand away and you whine, both in frustration and pleasure as he starts to move his fingers. Slowly pumping them until he’s twisting his wrist so he can press his thumb against your clit. “Gods.” You gasp, your fingers gripping the sheets.

Leaning down, he bites at your nipple before running the flat of his tongue against it when you gasp. It makes him smile, the shocked sound you give. “You should see men suckling the tits of whores as they bounce on their cocks.” He groans against your skin. “They all love it, the men, the whores.” He continues to pump his fingers deeper into your cunt and loves how your walls start clenching down around them.

His words are scandalous but you gush at the thought of watching a scene like that. Something so sordid. “Marcus. I- do it again.” You beg and he obliges, leaning down to suck on your nipple before biting down. “Oh gods.” You whimper, your hips tilting as he works you higher and you feel that familiar feeling in your stomach. Something you’ve only ever done for yourself.

“That’s it.” He encourages you, his cock throbbing as he presses his thumb against your clit and pumps his fingers deep, curling them up inside you like one of the whores of his youth had shown him. He had been grateful to her ever since when he had been able to consistently please the women he was fucking, including his wife when he had married. “Why don’t you cry out for me, uxor?”

Marcus’s words send you over the edge. His claim of you both verbally and physically has you clamping down on his thick digits. “Oh fuck.” You curse, soaking his fingers when you cum harder than you ever have in your life.

He isn’t the type of man to just stop as soon as you start to cum. Continuing to work his fingers into you as he watches you come apart. Groaning quietly as your slick coats his fingers and slides down his wrists. You are wet enough now.

He takes your breath as he works you through it. “Marcus. Please.” You beg, wanting to feel him inside you, “I need you inside me.” You reach out to wrap your fingers around his cock, pumping him like Gracchus taught you.

Marcus hisses, batting your hand away and for a moment you freeze, afraid you had done something wrong. “It had been too long.” He growls, grabbing your hips and flipping you over to your stomach to pull your ass up in the air. “I need to be inside you before I spill.”

The position is new and you gasp in surprise, looking over your shoulder at your new husband who has his cock in his hand, pumping himself as he smacks your ass with his free palm. “Fuck me.” You demand, arching your back to display yourself for him.

“You would make such a good camp whore.” Marcus growls, shuffling forward to line up. It’s not exactly a compliment to most high born women, but he doesn’t think you will take offense. His hand is on your hip as he presses the head of his cock at your wet entrance to push inside you in one, hard thrust.

He stretches you like you’ve never known but it doesn’t hurt. You moan in pleasure as he twitches inside your pussy, making you whimper his name. “Marcus.” You pant, “move.” You demand and he chuckles, “so desperate.” He pulls his hips back, leaving only the tip of him remaining before he pushes deep into you in one quick thrust. “Fuck!” You yelp, loving how he feels.

He chuckles and grips your hips harshly in his hand as he rocks into you. Watching as your body arches back as he pulls his hips back, withdrawing again. He had told you he wouldn’t be gentle with you and he is keeping his word. “Now you will cry my name.” He vows, pushing forward again to fill you up and rock your body into the bed beneath you.

He takes your breath away, feeling like he’s in your stomach and you cry out on every rock of his hips, falling forward onto your cheek as you grip the sheets that are crumbled beneath you. “Fuck, Marcus.” You cry, feeling your body jiggle with each thrust.

He had almost vowed that he would not touch you but he could not resist your request. Your body is so willing, so yielding to him, making him groan as he plows into you over and over again. Listening to your moans as he fucks you.

His hands squeeze your flesh and you are lost in the sensations. No one has made you feel like this before. “Gods, you’re - you’re so thick. Stretching me out, husband.” You whine, rocking back onto him.

He growls in pleasure, snapping his hips forward again and again. He won’t last long, he knows that. It’s been too goddamn long since he has fucked anyone. Leaning over your back, he slides a hand between your thighs and starts to rub the little pleasure button above your grasping entrance. “You are such a needy whore.” He coos in your ear.

His words make you squeal when combined with his fingers on your clit and it doesn’t take long for you to fall apart. You cry out his name loud enough that the servants will hear and your thighs shake as you clamp down on his cock.

“Shit, shit.” Marcus hisses in pleasure at how you soak his cock, rocking his hips through your pulsing orgasm. His body starting to tighten as he works himself closer. Pulling his hand away from your clit and grabbing your hips. Slamming his own against your ass for another few thrusts before he is ripping free of your cunt and taking his cock in his hand. Pumping furiously as he starts painting your ass with hot ropes of his seed.

You huff in disappointment when he spills hot cum on your ass. You wanted him to fill you up, to experience it. Not to become with child but to feel him. You look over your shoulder as he relaxes from his orgasm and he’s so beautiful. Jaw clenched, nostrils flaring, he looks like a god.

Marcus squeezes your hip with the hand that is still holding you and sighs. “Fuck.” He pants, feeling completely blissed out. Slapping your ass once before he is shuffling off the bed to reach for his tunic to clean your ass off. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

You rest your cheek against the sheets as you let your body lay flat while he cleans you up. “I did. Why didn’t you- did you not wish to spill your seed inside me?” You ask curiously, looking over at him as he walks naked across the room, the moonlight highlighting his form.

Marcus picks up the pitcher of wine and pours a cup. Turning to you with a slight tilt of his head as he starts to pad across the floor back to the bed. “We have not talked about children.” He reminds you. “I did not want to fill you if you did not want to risk carrying my child.” He never spilled inside the women he fucked, always pulling out. When he started to cum, he had just acted on instinct. He takes a sip of the wine and offers you the cup.

You take the cup from his hand, thanking him soft and you watch him as he sits down beside you. He’s so broad. You imagine him protecting you, defending you. You shift closer to rest your head on his shoulder, feeling closer now you’ve consummated your marriage. “I do not mind children. I am not sure I can have them. Gracchus…he spilled inside me every time and it never took. Would I disappoint you if I do not provide you with a child?” You ask softly, pulling away from him so you can look at him.

“I …..never imagined having another child.” Marcus tells you honestly. He looks over at the sword on the display and then back to you. “If you never give me a child, I would not think it was because of you, but because the gods did not wish it so.” He rationalizes. “One day, I will leave and never return home, fallen in battle.” He accepted his fate a long time ago, made peace with it. “If you have no wish to risk carrying, I will spill my seed on the sheets.”

You barely know the man but to know he could die in battle makes your heart clench. “I’d like you to spill inside me if you wish to have me again. I enjoyed the pleasure. I want to feel you and if it takes, then we will be blessed and you can fight knowing your legacy will live on.”

Marcus chuckles. “You are a beautiful woman, one the gods would be envious of.” He tells you. “I am just a man. I would have you every night and at least once during the day if you were willing.”

You fluster, biting your lower lip as he compliments you. Your late husband never did so. “I will not complain if that is what my husband wishes of me.” You declare and he reaches out to grip your chin, “it is not about whether I wish it of you, it’s if you wish to have me.” He says and you look into those dark eyes, “I want you if you want me.” You promise and he slides his hand down to your neck, inhaling deeply. He never expected to fall into bed with the woman that was gifted to him but he finds himself eager to bury himself inside you again and fill you up. “Let us rest, corculum.” You say as you stand up to set your wine cup down on the table and you make your way back to the bed, sliding under the covers still nude.

Marcus hums in agreement and slides back into bed beside you. Pulling his arm back to allow you to curl against him if you wish. “I don’t mind.” He tells you when you hesitate. “We will rest and know that no one can claim we have not consummated our vow.”

You curl into his side, listening to his breathing even out and you focus on his heartbeat. You’re here to spy on him, to ensure he’s not hurting the empire with a coup but you aren’t sure if you can betray him like that. He’s already gotten under your skin. Eventually, you close your eyes and decide to see how things go. Perhaps it’s only rumors and there will be no evidence of Marcus Acacius’s unrest with Rome and her emperors.

****

Marcus groans, toes curling as he thrusts up into you. Watching as your breasts shake, mouth dropping open in a low moan of his name. It’s been nearly a month and he is still in Rome. The Emperors claim they want their general well rested for the next campaign and to give him time to spend with his new bride. He has enjoyed that. Since that first night, you have become insatiable and Marcus has fucked you in every position, on every surface of the villa. Spending more time with you than anyone else although you do disappear with your servant at times, claiming you prefer the peace of the women’s baths in the city center. He doesn’t begrudge you that, although he misses the time when you aren’t with him. He slaps your thigh, smirking when you clench down around him. Riding his cock is probably your favorite way to have sex and he doesn’t mind, your beauty entrancing him as you gallop towards the Elysian Fields of pleasure. “Cum for me, amica.” He moves to rub your clit like you enjoy, having learned your body well over the past weeks and his other hand drags your body down so he can suckle at your tits.

“Marcus.” You gasp, tangling your fingers in his hair as he bites down on your nipple and the change in angle has you falling apart for him. His fingers rubbing your bundle of nerves has you shaking and you have never known such ecstasy. You rock back onto his cock, trying to work yourself through your orgasm and spur his but it’s so much. Your thighs shake as you collapse on top of him, smothering him as you moan his name. He moves fast, rolling you over so you’re beneath him, his jaw clenched as he looms above you, his hand gripping your thigh to push it towards your stomach so he can work himself deeper inside your pulsing cunt. “It’s it, fuck. You are so deep. Keep going. Want you to fill me with your seed.” You order, watching him as he grunts. The last month you’ve been indulging in your new husband but as you look up at him, the guilt looms. Your trips to the baths have not been truthful. You’ve been to the palace to inform the emperors about Marcus’s interactions, his meetings while he is in Rome. You hate betraying him, wish you could go to the palace and tell them you’re done, but you know the emperors would have you killed for insolence and treason if you dared to deny them. So far, Marcus has met with a few senators at his home, discussing the mounting cost of the endless war, the endless conquests that have sent the Roman people into poverty. That idea alone is treason to the empire, to question the decisions of the emperors, but they haven’t dragged Marcus from his home. They are waiting for something and you don’t know what that is. Marcus reaches for your hand, lifting it above your head to bring you back from your thoughts and you moan, squeezing him inside your pussy. “Want you to cum for me, Maritus.” You order, sliding your free hand up his chest.

He groans, his thrusts stutter and he starts to give himself over to your command. Life with you has been so rewarding, so free. He has done nothing more than drink wine and have sex with you. Feeling more relaxed than he ever believed possible. The emperors had truly blessed him when they had forced the marriage and he can only hope that he had treated you well enough that you look on your union favorably. Every day he has spent with you has brought you closer to his once guarded heart and he knows that he would die for you. Having fallen for you sometime between the hours spent in bed and the conversations you have while you indulge in your hobbies. Often you would sit outside under a shaded tree and watch while he trains in the courtyard. Making him proud when you later attack him and beg him to fuck you after he is done and his sparring partners have been dismissed. It makes him think of a simpler life, leaving the army and moving out of the city to work a small farm. Leaving the intrigues of Rome behind.

You slide your hand up to caress his cheek, his grip on your hand tightening as he pulses inside you, painting your walls with his seed. “Marcus.” You whisper, wanting to tell him how you feel. You believed him to be a heartless brute from the stories you’d heard about the general but he’s shown you nothing but kindness. He’s funny, he’s smart, and he is loyal to Rome. Not her Emperors, but the Empire and you admire that. You know he risks his life trying to associate with the senators to try and quell the Emperors’ need for more land, more blood. You don’t want to betray him any longer. Tomorrow, you’ll go to the palace and try to end the task you’ve been given. You can no longer betray the man you love. He turns his head to kiss your palm and you offer him a loving smile, wanting to spend the rest of your life like this.

Marcus pulls out of you gently and rolls to his back, pulling you against him. He has learned that you enjoy the closeness after sex. The lazy conversation that can be shared after you are exhausted. Your last husband cared little about your thoughts and he can only wonder how foolish Gracchus was. You are far more insightful than anyone would believe, brains behind your beauty matching most of the officers under him. “You enjoy your baths, but have you always wanted to live in the city?” He asks, his fingers stroking your spine slowly.

You caress his chest as you throw your leg over his, enjoying the closeness. “Not always. I’ve imagined a little farm in the country. Growing my own fruits and vegetables, maybe even some vines to make wine. Peace and quiet and away from the hustle of the city. When I married Gracchus, I was barely grown, and I imagined having children and watching them run free in the country.” You confess, “what about you? Your position in the city is close to the gods. Only the emperors and senate sit above you. Would you ever give up that power?”

He hums, happy that you are sharing with him. “I am weary of it.” He confesses quietly. “I have never wanted power, fame or adulation. I want to live simply. Quietly.” He had hoped to save for a little farm when he was married to his first wife, but he had given up those dreams when she died. Now that yearning was starting to build inside him again. “Would you be happy to live that way with me? Without children?”

You smile, leaning in to kiss his jaw, “I’d follow you anywhere. With or without children.” You vow, “if you wish to leave Rome, I will be by your side.” You promise and he turns his head to kiss you, his tongue sliding into your mouth and you moan at the way he devours you. “Insatiable.” You tease when you feel his hand trailing up your thigh to your cum slicked folds. “For you, always.” He promises and you giggle as he flips you onto your back, a growl escaping his lips.

****

You are reading a scroll outside under the olive tree, watching Marcus as he trains, and you turn your head when Antonia comes into the garden with a scroll. “Matronae, your presence is required at the baths.” She says your code and you sigh, shifting to stand after you hand her the scroll. Marcus pauses his training to look over at you, “Maritus, I will be heading to the baths.” You declare and he sets his sword down, striding over to you to cup your cheek, pressing his lips to yours. “Be careful.” He demands and you nod, pecking his lips as you step back and Antonia follows you when you enter the villa to prepare to leave.

Marcus sighs and reaches for the cloth to wipe his sweat away. “We are finished for today.” He decides, suddenly restless and uneasy about you leaving the villa. He’s not a man who ignores gut feelings so he decides that he will change and go out. If he happens to be near the baths that you frequent, it will be a coincidence.

You glance around the street as you make your way down the cobbled streets that lead to the baths before you’ll detour to the palace. You look over your shoulder, feeling like someone is following you and Antonia will wait at the baths to keep your cover. She doesn’t know what you’re doing but she keeps your secrets. You turn your head back to the street and moments later, your coin purse is grabbed from your belt and you are shoved to the ground. You hiss, hands grabbing your belt to stop them from robbing you but the man slaps your face, causing you to cry out. You keep hold on the coins and the man hits you again, grabbing your arms and you know he’s bruised you with his grip. He wrestles you as he grabs your belt and yanks, desperate to get the pouch of coins from your body. You scream for help, trying to slap the man and Antonia jumps on him but he swings her off and she hits the ground with a thud, a dazed look on her face.

The moment Marcus hears the scream, he knows his gut is right. The hood over his head is thrown back when he breaks into a sprint down the street. Citizens and slaves alike turn towards the sound, but Marcus ignores them, turning the corner to see a man on top of you, drawing his hand back to hit you. “Arghhhhhhh!” His screaming war cry distracts the man, giving him time to tackle him off of you in a red hazed fury. Enraged that someone would dare attack his wife, Marcus Acacius begins to hit him, over and over again.

You scramble to sit up, your body aching as Marcus hunches over the man, hitting him over and over. The crowd watches in shock and you are frozen as you witness your husband’s ferocity in person. He hits the man over and over until blood is pooling on the cobbled street and you scramble to stand, swaying as you approach slowly. “Marcus. Marcus. Maritus. Please -” You collapse back to the floor, your body aching as you struggle to stand and Antonia crawls to you as your eyes roll into the back of your head.

Your servant's cry is what breaks through the focused rage. Turning to see you pass out and he immediately abandons his task. Dropping the unconscious man back to the cobblestones to scramble over to you. “Uxor.” His bruised and bloodied hands are gentle as he cradles you, scooping you up into his arms. “Get a hippocrates.” He demands, his eyes filled with rage that you have been hurt. “Have them come at once.” He turns and starts to run back up the streets, carrying you back towards the villa.nmm

Marcus carries you through the streets and your head lolls as you regain consciousness in his arms. "Maritus?" You whisper, head throbbing and he stops walking to look at you in his arms. "You're awake." He murmurs, "we must get you home. A hippocrates will be there soon." He promises and you nod, closing your eyes again as he carries you until you're set down on the bench in the entrance of Marcus's villa.

Soon the servants are scrambling, fetching cool water and clothes when he orders them to. The wine is brought and he urges you to open your eyes and drink some, knowing you must be in pain. “What happened?” He asks, ignoring his own injuries as he starts to lift your dress to check your body.

You gulp down the wine and look at your husband, "he came from nowhere. He - he wanted my coins. From my belt. He was trying - he hit me. Over and over. Threw Antonia. Where's Antonia? Is she okay?" You demand and your servant steps forward looking worse for wear but okay. "I am fine, matronae." She promises and you sigh in relief. "He slapped me and pushed me down. I wouldn't let him take the coin and he was hitting me until you came and Marcus, oh carissima." You gasp, looking at his bloodied knuckles.

You reach for his head but he shakes his head, “I am fine.” He insists, knowing that he has been through much worse. A few busted knuckles is nothing compared to battle. “Where do you hurt, uxor?” He asks softly, wanting to make sure that the hippocrates examines you thoroughly.

"My head and my back. That's where he hit me. He was - I was so shocked. I should've fought harder." You shake your head and Marcus cups your cheeks to examine the tender skin from the hits to your face. Luckily the bastard didn't break the skin. "You were brave. Most would've simply given him the coins." He murmurs and you nod, wincing when his thumb presses against your tender flesh.

“I should have killed him.” Marcus growls. “The guards will hold him, but I will have to go speak to them about your attack.” He won’t leave you until you are being examined, unless you want him to stay. “I should have sent one of my guards with you.” He murmurs guiltily.

Your eyes meet his guilty ones, “do not think that way. I have never been attacked before and I had Antonia. You did nothing wrong. I will wait for the Hippocrates.” You murmur, knowing he wants to go speak with your attacker.

He is stubborn, staying with you until the man he had summoned is ushered into the villa. “She was attacked.” He explains. “I want her examined and treated. Nothing is to be overlooked.” He leans down and presses his lips to yours briefly. “I will leave you to his care and return shortly.”

You nod and watch Marcus leave your rooms as the man asks you what happened. "I was attacked. The man hit me over the head several times and pushed me to the ground." You reveal and the hippocrates asks you to remove your tunic so he can inspect your injuries. "Your husband wishes for nothing to be overlooked." He says and you wince as he pushes on your lower back where you fell. He asks you several questions and you pause when he asks when you last bled. You frown, counting until you realize you have missed your bleed. "It could be the stress of the marriage and moving and-" The hippocrates hums, "perhaps but you must be careful in case you are with child. We shall wait and see if you miss your bleed again." You nod, knowing you must take care and you slide your hand down to your stomach as the hippocrate applies a salve to your tender aches. You redress after the hippocates leaves and you are confronted by palace guards. "You are being summoned to the palace." Antonia tells you and you nod, wincing as you take your cloak and let the guards escort you to the palace. Marcus is not there to argue your presence and no one says no to the emperors.

Marcus watches as the guards bring the criminal into the cell, smirking at the swollen features of the man. “You fucked up.” He tells the poor bastard. “You assumed to rob a noble woman, not realizing who she was married to.” The man whimpers, both from his injuries and the implication behind the words. “Who does she belong to?” He scoffs, trying to appear like it makes no difference to him. The guard holding his shackles chuckles. “You beat Marcus Acacius’s wife.” He tells him.

You arrive at the palace, guided to the room to wait for the emperors and you bow your head when they stride inside. “Ah, we heard news that you were attacked and your husband protected you. That is why you did not arrive. We trust you are well.” Geta says and you nod, “tender and bruised but not gravely.” You declare and they smile, nodding, “we are glad to hear that but we want to hear news of your husband. We hear that he met with Senator Brutus.” Caracalla tilts his head and you raise your chin, “I will no longer speak of my husband’s meetings.” You declare and Geta raises his eyebrows. “Excuse me?” You clench your sore jaw, “I will not speak of my husband’s affairs any longer.” You announce and Caracalla laughs, throwing his head back. “The insolence.” He spits after his smile drops. “I love him. I do not wish to betray his trust any longer.” You say defiantly and Caracalla growls, “you cunt. We are going to have you killed for your treason.” He hisses and you stand tall despite your heart pumping. “No, no. We gain nothing by killing her. Let’s invite her maritus to witness her betrayal.” Geta smirks and you gasp, “no. No. He can’t know.” You plead and Geta smirks, gesturing to his guard, “chain her and send someone for Marcus Acacius.”

Marcus watches as the criminal starts to cry, begging for his life as he contemplates the punishment for this man. He should have him killed, but in truth, the man is less than a plebeian, begging and scrapping by for survival. A result of the emperors foolish taxes to support their war mongering. Because his wife was the victim, he can choose the punishment. “He will serve in the army.” Marcus decides. “Since he has a need to plunder, he can do so in the name of Rome.” He doesn’t believe the man would survive long, but he will have food and a bed until he does die in battle. “General.” The cell door opens. “The Emperors demand your attendance at once.” The head guard for the Emporers is the one speaking, making Marcus wonder what has happened now.

You are shackled when Marcus arrives, striding into the hall and his brow furrows when he sees you chained. “What is the meaning of this? She’s injured.” He growls at the emperors who had waited for him to arrive. “Your dear wife has a secret.” Caracalla grins manically, clapping his hands. Marcus frowns, “secret? We have none.” Geta smirks, “oh she does. She’s been spying on you. Delivering details of your meetings directly to us. You see, we were concerned about your influence in the army, we wanted to ensure you were not planning a coup. Your dissatisfaction with our regime has not gone amiss and we know you have been vocal about this with the senators. We simply had to take precautions to maintain our status in the empire. We had your precious uxor spy on you. We ordered her to marry you and she has delivered on our orders until today. Today she suddenly has loyalty to you.” Geta scoffs and Caracalla rolls his eyes.

His brow furrows when he hears the accusations and his eyes find yours, stomach twisting when he sees the guilt and truth of their words in your eyes. “Marcus, please-“ he turns his head, his heart twisting, ignoring your plea as he faces the two emperors. If they know the conversations he has been having, he is dead anyway. “Rome is crumbling beneath our sandals.” He implores them. “The weight of the campaigns is heavy. Today, she was attacked by a man who can no longer afford to feed himself because of the taxes imposed for the war chest.” He doesn’t look over at you. “The poorest of Rome suffer heavily.”

You watch Marcus condemn himself and you shake your head. The Emperors stare at him and you swallow harshly. “You shouldn’t have - Marcus.” You whisper and Geta stares at him while Caracalla growls. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t - I didn’t want to but they threatened me and I- I love you. I never wanted to do this.” You promise with a cry.

Marcus doesn’t look over at you, waiting for his Emperors to determine his fate. Gets curls his lips into a cruel smile and claps his hands together. “I have the best idea for his punishment.” He cackles. “He will compete in the gladiatorial games!” His wide eyes swing towards you. “And she shall watch!”

Your eyes widen, “no. No. You cannot do that. I am the one who betrayed him. I am the one who refuses to continue spying. Don’t let him- he is a good general. He’s fought hard for you. Please. Take me. Don’t let him fight.” You plead on Marcus’s behalf.

They wouldn’t listen to you anyway, they never listen, but Marcus shakes his head. “If the emperors wish for my life to be fought for in the arena, then they will have their amusement.” He answers them, making them smirk as their personal guards surround him.

You shake your head, tears in your eyes as Marcus is dragged off and so are you. Taken in opposite directions and you are pushed into a cell, shackled, and you sob for your husband. For the life you loved with him that is now gone. Even if he survives the arena, he won’t want you. You have betrayed him. You don’t know how long you’re in the cell with nothing but dirty water until the cell door is opened and you’re dragged out by the guards.

“We cannot have you looking like a prisoner.” Caracalla titters as he smirks at your dirty and disheveled appearance when you are brought in front of him and Geta. “So we must clean you up.” He snaps his fingers and a female servant appears. “Wash her. Dress her in robes that will hide the chains.” He orders. “You will be sitting with us, isn’t that fantastic?” He asks. “The best view in the house as your dear Marcus fights for his life.” He tilts his head. “And yours.” He adds menacingly.

You are numb as you are cleaned and scrubbed by the servant, dressed in a clean tunic and she wipes your tears after she hides the chains beneath your robes. “It’s time.” The guard declares as he opens the doors and you try to swallow the lump in your throat. You ride to the Colosseum with tears stinging your eyes and you’re dragged up to the balcony where the Emperors are sitting on gold thrones, matching manic grins on their faces. “So glad you could join us.” Geta chuckles and you are pushed into a seat beside him, your chains rattling but hidden. You refrain from glaring at him, clenching your fists, and the crowd roars as Marcus walks out onto the sands. Your breath catches and you want to close your eyes, pretend this is a nightmare. “And who is my husband fighting? What man could match my husband’s skills?” You ask the Emperor and Caracalla chuckles, “not man. Men.” You inhale sharply as four men walk onto the sands.

The armor that he wears is his own, the subtle needling of the emperors’ visible to the crowds but unknown to all but those he had conspired with. The message that even an honored general of Rome, a man who had spent his life fighting for her glory, was not immune to the will of her emperors. Turning to the stands, it is easy to spot Geta and Caracalla, both of them laughing and drinking, merrily watching men fight to the death. His eyes find you, the horror written on your face making him pause as he brings his sword up over his heart, signaling his fealty to Rome. He turns and honors the men who will be fighting him, knowing that they have no choice in their fight and accepting that they will do their best to kill him. He had always known he would fall on a battlefield, he had just never assumed it would happen in the Colosseum.

Your heartbeat is deafening in your own ears as you watch the men rush towards Marcus, his sword swinging within seconds and you are terrified that he’s going to be killed. Your battle worn husband has fought many during his life but you worry he will die today in Rome, the Roman people witnessing his death. A symbol that even a great general can be taken down. “Please. He didn’t do anything. He’s fought hard for you.” You beg Geta, who scoffs, “by conspiring with others?” You shake your head, “to protect Rome and her people. Not against you.” You plead your husband’s case but it falls on deaf ears as your husband takes one man down.

This is needless. Marcus pants, gripping his sword firmly as the next man attacks. Crimson spilling from the man in the dirt and being mixed into a bloody paste as the general blocks the lunge, his foot shuffling back and he almost trips over the body.

You gasp when he stumbles and one of the men swipes his arm, cutting him. “Marcus.” You whimper, not wanting to scream and distract him. He grunts and swings back, the man crying out when his arm is chopping off. “Please, maritus.” You beg, needing Marcus to win.

Another man rushes him while the man he had just injured drops his sword to grab the bleeding appendage. Causing him to shift focus and move to the other man, grunting out when he grabs the man’s arm as he swings his sword down and shoves his own blade into the gladiator’s belly. Watching as his eyes widen when the pain registers and he realizes he will die on the hot sands.

You gasp when he has one man left to kill. The Emperors frown and clap as expected when Marcus takes down another opponent. The remaining man swipes at him again and you are on the edge of your seat as you watch your husband fight for his life.

The last gladiator is obviously the most skilled. He was smart too, using the other men to exhaust Marcus as he fought for hard minutes at a time with little break between attacks. The days of little water and no food leaving the general much weaker than he would be under normal circumstances, no doubt planned by the emperors to make sure that he falls today. Marcus barely jumps back in time from a swipe of the sword, the tip dragging across the armor covering his stomach and he feels his resolve weakening. There is no point to continue.

You choke when the sword cuts close to his stomach and you stand up, yanking on the chains that bind you. You try to walk towards the balcony but you stumble. “Marcus! Marcus! You must fight, Maritus. Fight for us! For our baby!” You shout, pleading with him to fight for his life.

The roar of the crowd is loud but he hears your voice. The shouting cuts through the din and he stumbles back, turning to look at the balcony where you are watching. Your eyes are wide and frantic as you scream again. This time he hears what you are saying. Our baby. Our baby. You are pregnant. His mind is reeling when he hears this, ducking down from the next attack on instinct alone to be brought back into the fight.

You watch as he has more energy, spurred on by your words, and Caracalla growls, “sit the fuck down.” He demands and you refuse, remaining standing as you watch your husband swing his sword. His opponent is skilled but younger and Marcus has your future in his hands as he swings his sword. Swiping the man who cries out, Marcus grunts as he kicks at the leg of the man, making him fall. He moves fast, swinging his sword to behead the man. You scream in joy as the man’s head rolls, knowing that Marcus has saved you.

You try to scramble to the emperors but your chains keep you in place. “Please spare him. He’s won. He’s won.” You beg and Geta gestures for Marcus to come to the balcony. He bows his head, knowing he will be ordered to be killed soon after, and he makes his way up to the balcony. You swallow harshly and you want to reach for him when he walks past you to stand before the emperors, bowing his head before he lifts it to clench his jaw in defiance. “You have beaten men who should have killed you. You have won.” Geta declares and reaches towards Marcus’s belt, taking his blade from the sheath and he presses it against his neck. Marcus hisses as blood drips from the cut, his lip curling. “Please.” You whimper, wanting your husband to survive. “You will leave Rome today. Disappear and take your uxor. If we hear a word of betrayal, you will be killed before you even realize it. Do you understand?” Geta hisses while Caracalla shakes his head, wanting blood.

“I understand.” Marcus murmurs quietly. “I will leave Rome.” He knows that he cannot risk your life and that of a potential child, if you are indeed pregnant. He is weary and just wants to get away from the Emperors. His eyes cut towards the men, his disgust for them clear.

You watch as Geta lowers the knife and sheaths it back in Marcus’s belt. He looks over at the guard and nods for him to release you. The shackles fall to the floor with a clang and you rush over to Marcus, cupping his cheeks to make sure he’s okay. “Take your traitor wife and leave Rome today otherwise you’ll be killed.” Geta promises and you nod, caressing Marcus’s cheek.

Marcus doesn’t trust the other men to keep their word, but he nods. Letting the guards guide you off the balcony and he reaches for his knife when he is out of the Emperor’s presence. “Maritus-“ you murmur but Marcus cuts you off. “Be quiet.” He hisses, knowing that you are not out of danger yet. A shift of armor could be the only clue an attack from the guards is coming and he needs to be alert.

You cling to him as he escorts you out of the colosseum to the awaiting chariot that is waiting to take you back to Marcus’s villa so you can pack your things. You are helped onto the villa and you swallow harshly, “I am so sorry.” You choke out and he shakes his head, “not here.” He says still not comfortable that you’re safe and you nod, reaching for his arm.

Because of his training, Marcus is efficient packing up. He completely takes over and gives orders to the servants while he drags you towards the private quarters where you can be alone.

Your wrists are sore from the shackles as Marcus stands in front of you. Both of you are worse for wear. You are covered in dirt, him in blood as you stand in front of him.

He stares at you, wondering if any of the time you had spent together was real or if it was all to get him to relax around you. “Are you pregnant?” He asks finally, needing to know if you were just bargaining for your life and praying it would sway the emperors.

You reach for him but he takes a step back, “I- I think so. I’ve missed my bleed and I- I never do. I think I might be.” You say softly, not wanting to lie to him.

His jaw clenches and he nods. “Then we will see if you are before we decide where we will go permanently.”

You nod, “I- I know you’re angry that I betrayed you but I- I went to the palace to tell them that I was done telling them your secrets. I didn’t want to - I never wanted to betray you but they threatened me and I couldn’t do it anymore because I love you. I’m in love with you, Maritus.” You confess, eyes wide as you prepare for his rejection.

Marcus wants to deny you. To call you a liar but he doesn’t see lies in your eyes. Maybe he is a fool, because you have already betrayed him, but he believes you. “Are you not just saving your neck now?” He asks, wanting to be sure. “I have nothing now. No power, no prestige. If you go back to your Emperors and beg for mercy, maybe they will give you to another man.” You move closer to him again and he doesn’t step back.

You shake your head, “I don’t want another man. I want my husband. I want you.” You promise, “I love you, Marcus, and I know - I know you are still mourning your first wife, your love, but I want you to know how I feel, Maritus.” You murmur, caressing his cheek.

“I stopped mourning my first wife.” Marcus admits. “When I asked you if you imagined always living in Rome.” He hears the servants rushing around to pack up the household, but he doesn’t move, staring at you. “I was asking to see if you would move away with me. Before this. Before we were exiled.”

You nod, “before this…I would’ve followed you anywhere. I love you, Marcus. I never imagined when the emperors ordered for me to marry you that I’d fall in love with you. I’d follow you anywhere.” You promise breathlessly.

“I have no trust in you.” Marcus admits, watching your face fall, biting your lip as you nod. “But I know you were trying to survive the whims of our Emperors.” He steps closer to you. “And I will not let you suffer for that.” He promises, lifting his good arm to trail his fingers up your arm. “I love you, uxor. We will leave Rome and make our home somewhere else, away from the intrigue and betrayal of this festering city.” He smiles. “Perhaps we will have your dream of children running in the sunshine.”

You smile, imagining children running in the fields while you spend your days with Marcus in the sun without worry of the politics of Rome. You lean in to kiss his lips. “I know you don’t trust me but I want to earn your trust.” You murmur and he nods, “let us find a new home. Together.” He declares and you lean in to softly kiss him.

****

“Maritus.” You moan, caressing his shoulders as you rock on top of him, your bump between you. “Uxor.” He groans, his hands sliding down your back as you ride his cock. “I love you.” You moan, “so much.”

The villa around you is still being cleaned and repaired, abandoned for such a long time but it will be worth it when it’s restored to it former glory. The fields outside are fertile and the bones of the home are sturdy. After the fire years ago, it had been left to let the vines overgrow. Perhaps it was fate that you and Marcus are settling and creating a family where Maximus’s was taken from him, but the former general just thought it was the gods way of finding balance. “I love you.” He promises breathless as he rocks his hips up gently.

You moan, getting closer and closer to your orgasm as you rock on top of him. His cock thrusts up into you and you cry out, falling apart as you soak him. You clench down around his cock and fall into his chest, your bump pressed against him. “Fill me up, Marcus.” You plead, wanting to feel it, feel him.

He chuckles softly, puffing out the sound as he works himself in and out of your cunt towards his own satisfaction. “It’s obvious I’ve done that.” He grunts, loving how your walls tighten around him. The baby will come soon and he prays to all the gods that they will spare you and the child. “Fuck.” He grunts, pushing deep and painting your walls with ropes of cum as he moans your name.

You run your fingers through his hair as he relaxes beneath you and you sigh, “te amo.” You murmur and he caresses your back while the moon shines through the linen on the balcony.

****

Your screams echo in the halls as you bear down. You are in agony, Antonia pressing a wet rag to your forehead as you push. The women of the household surround you as you labor. “Gods!” You curse as you grip the sheets. It feels like hours of pushing and you’re exhausted. “One more push!” Antonia demands and you sob, shaking your head as you push and finally, the pressure releases and a cry fills the air.

As soon as the baby’s cry rings out, Marcus cannot stop himself. Pushing the doors to the bedchamber open, he rushes inside, his hair sticking up from long hours pacing and running his hands through it, worrying about your fate. “Uxor!” He only has eyes for you and the small little bundle you are taking from Antonia. Your face is drenched in sweat and you’ve never looked more beautiful.

You look up from the baby in your arms, a grin on your face as your husband rushes over. “It’s a boy.” You murmur, checking all fingers and toes are in place. Marcus grins, leaning in to kiss your sweaty forehead. “You’re incredible, amor.” He murmurs and you tilt your head to kiss him softly. The cord is cut and Marcus takes the baby in his arms, needing to claim him. He holds him up to the servants and says “My son.” He proclaims, cradling his son and he leans in to kiss you again. “Our son.” He says and you smile, taking the baby after he slides him back into your arms so you can have skin to skin. “What shall we call him?” You ask Marcus who leans over to kiss your son’s forehead before he kisses yours. “Maximus Acacius.” He declares and you grin, “it’s perfect.” A new life in a place that held such pain. Your marriage may have been arranged by the emperors but your life together is fuelled by love and by choice.

#pedro pascal #marcus acacius #general marcus acacius #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius x female reader #marcus acacius x f!reader #marcus acacius smut #marcus acacius imagine #marcus acacius fanfiction #marcus acacius fanfic #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii

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heartsforhavik · 3 months

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admirer! yandere boy x hitman! reader

✰ warnings: murder, mentions of blood and poison, stalking, obsessiveness, regular yandere tendencies, reader is a hitman, reader is also a fake ass bitch, lowercase intended, gender neutral reader and no use of y/n. i do not condone yanderes irl or the themes in this fic.

✰ a/n: hey guys so i saw people on tiktok playing yandere simulator and implementing an admirer/stalker in the game. inspiration struck and i thought i’d write something based off of that. if this is well-liked i may write another part. i’m also hoping to write more frequently cuz it’s summer now!! expect more frequent updates and some reqs to finally be written :) also, i was hoping you guys could comment or message some name ideas for our little admirer!yandere boy…

you thought you got away with it. you were hired to eliminate a student in your class, and nobody ever found out it was you. you were able to show up to school the next week, unbothered, even though the staff and students were weeping over the loss of their classmate. you were even at the late student’s funeral, standing amongst the sea of supporters dressed in black, and not a single soul knew it was you.

except for one. it was a boy that was in your class. he sat behind you, staring at the back of your head every day, hoping you’d talk to him. hoping you’d look at him. he was completely and utterly infatuated with you. he knew your entire schedule, address, interests, and more. for someone that killed people for a living, you somehow never noticed the boy that followed you everywhere you went.

he was the one that noticed your crime. he saw when you slipped a poison into your fellow classmate’s food, and watched them cough up blood for a couple minutes before they died. if a regular student witnessed what you did, they would run away and report you. but your little admirer just stood and grinned. oh, how pretty you looked with blood on your skin. you were so skilled at your job, how could he not admire your work?

he didn’t tell a single soul. he already found out about your twisted job long ago, he just never had the luck to see it in person. it didn’t phase him in the slightest. in fact, it made him want you even more. he even went home that day and ranted to his wall about what he saw. how he wanted to go up to you and compliment your skills, how mesmerizing you were when you swiftly disposed of the evidence, how strong you were to simply go on with your other classes as if nothing happened.

the week after that student’s funeral, it was deemed a self-inflicted death. there were new posters all over the walls with phrases such as: “you are loved!” or “you are not alone!” to prevent the incident from occurring again. your stalker felt overjoyed. you were getting away with it! he couldn’t be more proud of you. he decided to let you know how he felt as quickly as possible. he couldn’t keep it a secret anymore.

during your first class, you felt a tap on your shoulder. the scrawny boy behind you held up a small, folded sheet of paper with shaky hands. you took the paper and gave a fake smile to the boy. when you opened the note, you read: “meet me on the roof during lunch.”

you had to keep up your “friendly” reputation at school, so you couldn’t reject him. that’s why you reluctantly went up to the roof.

however, he was panicked. he immediately regretted his decision the moment you read his note. he couldn’t focus during his other classes because of how nervous he was.

but he couldn’t just leave you hanging, so he went up to the rooftop anyway.

“so.. what’s your na-“

“i love you!” the boy blurted out, interrupting your attempt at a kind greeting. his sudden confession left you speechless, and you had no clue how to respond.

he waited for your answer, hoping you weren’t disgusted. he stood with his hands tightly gripping his shirt, staring at the floor. he was too scared to look up at your face.

after a painfully long minute, he opened his mouth again. “i… have been watching you for a while. i am in love with you. every day, i only think of you. i kept it a secret for a while, but after i saw how you killed that studen-”

you quickly pinned him to the wall with your arm buried into his neck. “shut your mouth!” you scolded, looking around to see if anyone heard him.

“listen man, i don’t know who you are. but you’re sounding like a real fuckin’ freak, and you saw what i did. give me one good reason why i should spare your life.” you threatened.

“i’m on your side! i swear! i meant that i was amazed by what i saw! i’ve always been in love with you, but seeing what you did made me fall even harder. you looked so good with blood on your face, by the way.” he babbled, pathetically choking out praises in hopes that you would believe him.

you scoffed. “and how do i know you’re not coming up with some random bullshit so i don’t kill you?”

“i never reported you! it’s been a week and i never told a single soul what i saw. if i didn’t love you, i would’ve told someone. but i didn’t! because i really, truly love you. please give me a chance, i’ll be the best boyfriend ever! i’ll do your homework, i’ll cook and clean for you, and i know all your favorite shows and movies so i can talk to you about them!” he rambled.

as fun as that sounded, you really weren’t looking for a boyfriend at the moment. you were too busy. besides, even if you did want a boyfriend, this guy would be nowhere near your top picks.

“i don’t want a boyfriend. i don’t even know you! plus, no matter what you say, you still saw what i did. i won’t let you leave this roof alive.” you declared.

“nononono please, i’ll help you! i’ll assist you in killing people or something. i’ll do anything to prove my love. just give me a chance to be with you. listen, you can give me a month, and if you still don’t like me, you can kill me.” he proposed.

you thought about it for a moment. it didn’t sound like a bad idea. this guy’s willing to be a free, personal assistant. he could take a lot of weight off your chest if he helped with your work. and you knew a guy this scrawny could never beat you in a fight, so if anything goes wrong, you can eliminate him easily.

“you got yourself a deal, pipsqueak. you have 30 days. impress me, and maybe i’ll let you off the hook. but if you snitch on me, or if i still don’t like you by the end of the month, i’ll snap your neck.”

“so you’re giving me a chance? thank you so much! i won’t let you down.” the boy cheered.

you sighed. “you better not.”

it’s gonna be a long month.

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ln4smiamitrophy · 3 months

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𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔

𐙚 summary; the one where carlos sainz finally meets charles’ childhood friend and can’t help but fall in love.

ʚɞ pairing; carlos sainz jr x reader

ᡣ𐭩 fc; julia.hatchh on insta

⭒ type; smau

⟡ a/n; feel free not to read this, this is just me going on a rant about austria. can i just say yesterday’s race was crazy!? i felt so bad for charles, that collision with oscar really did mess up his race but i’m so happy he was able to climb back up to p11, i wish he could’ve finished in the points but he showed his skills as a driver and it was amazing to watch.

as for the lando and max situation, in my personal opinion, i believe that both drivers made errors in their judgement throughout the battle, and i am well aware that lando had his own issues concerning track limits and that some of his moves on max may not have been the safest but that’s racing. however when looking at the crash alone, i do believe max is at fault. he was the inside driver, and he knows that he has to leave a cars width between him and the outside line. he did not do that and that’s what caused the crash. i personally believe that they both fought too aggressively and i understand that racing is, at its heart, a dangerous sport, but this is why there are safety regulations and rules in which were broken in the austrian grand prix by both drivers, but in the end, it was max who caused the crash, resulting in lando’s dnf and himself finishing in p5.

i also acknowledge that race control and the stewards took far too long in reacting to the battle and if they had been quicker, the crash may not have happened at all. lando had pointed out several times that the way in which max was reacting to his moves was against the rules put in place. their slow reaction caused the battle to continue, and they failed to put a stop to the dangerous situation the rules were set out to prevent causing both cars to suffer damage, especially lando’s, and max receiving a 10 second penalty. i think a situation like this shines light on how race control and the stewards have to be quick in their decision whilst also taking in all factors so situations that could put any driver at risk can be prevented.

when it comes to how both drivers are handling the situation, i do believe max is being more mature about it. however i also acknowledge that lando is still getting used to being in the fight for the win and as fans we have to understand that they are still human beings with real emotions, and that as human beings they may say things in the heat of the moment that they do not fully mean. everybody does it, it’s a normal thing. i hope they can talk it out amongst themselves and come to an agreement. in my personal opinion, i think max needs to accept that he was the cause of the crash and apologise for it and lando needs to accept that some of the moves he made on max were not the safest and apologise for that.

i would just like to say that in no way is this meant to be me sending hate to any driver, this is just my personal opinion. i am not saying that any of you reading this have to think the same way i do about it, i just wanted to voice my opinion as i know many other fans have.

again, i would just like to reiterate that these drivers are people, they are not machines and they have emotions. there are also things going on behind the scenes that we do not know about. i think everyone needs to keep that in mind when discussing their views on this and other matters surrounding this and every sport, celebrity etc.

this was a long one, thank you for coming to my ted talk.

enjoy the fic loves xx

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y/nusername

📍• melbourne grand prix circuit

liked by charles_leclerc, yourbff and others

y/nusername what a lovely time

tagged; scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc, carlossainz55

comments…

charles_leclerc BREAKING NEWS!!! y/n finally attended a race!!

⤷ y/nusername rescheduled a shoot just for you, be grateful

user1 y/n finally at a race!?

⤷ user2 dream come true

arthur_leclerc so glad you were there, made it a bearable weekend

⤷ y/nusername i apologise profoundly for leaving you alone with charles for so long, i shall try to attend more

⤷ arthur_leclerc thank you don’t know how much more i can take

⤷ charles_leclerc hey!! i’m not that bad

⤷ y/nusername ….

user3 i missed charles x y/n content so much

user4 charles is contemplating life in that last pic

carlossainz55 wonderful to meet you

⤷ y/nusername you too !! hope to see you soon

⤷ user5 why do i lowkey ship it??

⤷ user6 they just met, calm tf down

and more…

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y/nusername

liked by carlossainz55, alexandrasaintmleux and others

y/nusername this shoot was incredible, i had an amazing time ❤️ (yes this was the shoot i rescheduled due to the gp)

comments…

user1 how can one women be this hot??

charles_leclerc very grateful you rescheduled

⤷ y/nusername as you should be

user2 the outfit is EVERYTHING

⤷ user3 she devoured

user4 MOTHERRR

carlossainz55 looking good

⤷ y/nusername why thank you mr sainz

⤷ user5 is this his attempt at flirting?? 😭😭

alexandrasaintmleux marry me?

⤷ y/nusername meet you at the registry office in a half hour?

⤷ alexandrasaintmleux i’m there 🏃🏻‍♀️💨

⤷ charles_leclerc y/n stop stealing my gf challenge

⤷ y/nusername no.

and more…

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y/nusername

📍• miami, florida

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55 and others

y/nusername your fav ferrari girl (& the two so called ferrari “drivers”)

tagged; charles_leclerc, carlossainz55

comments…

user1 bro she’s so gorgeous

user2 the only ferrari girl ever

charles_leclerc not you saying “drivers” as if you didn’t fail your test like 3 times

⤷ y/nusername and?? i can still driver better than you

alexandrasaintmleux prettiest girl

⤷ charles_leclerc what about me? 😔

⤷ alexandrasaintmleux you’re a pretty girl too charles

user3 carlos looking sooooo fine

*liked by y/nusername*

⤷ user3 Y/N LIKED!?

carlossainz55 don’t let her fool you, she’s evil

⤷ y/nusername the LIES!!

⤷ carlossainz55 you stole my drink and laughed in my face when i asked for just a sip

⤷ y/nusername you have legs, you could’ve used them to get another drink

and more…

———————————————————————y/nusername

liked by francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux and others

y/nusername don’t call me, too busy in bali

comments…

user1 that dress is EVERYTHING

user2 y/n filling the void during f1 summer break

francisca.cgomes stunning as per usual

⤷ y/nusername coming from you, crazy

user3 wait isn’t carlos in bali

⤷ user4 omg is he??

⤷ user5 yeah he posted a story from a boat with bali tagged as the location

charles_leclerc can’t believe you opted for bali rather than spending time with me 😒

⤷ y/nusername oh you’ll get over it

alexandrasaintmleux let’s make out

⤷ y/nusername omg yes please 😍

and more…

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y/nusername

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55 and others

y/nusername look who i found hiding on my boat

tagged @/carlossainz55

comments…

user1 wait so did they not go together? they just went at the same time

⤷ user2 apparently

carlossainz55 i was forced to take pictures all day 😔

⤷ y/nusername okay 1. you were not forced and 2. it was only like half an hour stfu

charles_leclerc girl don’t even try

⤷ y/nusername what??

⤷ charles_leclerc you know what

⤷ user3 HUH??!?

⤷ user4 the idea of charles saying girl is so funny to me

user5 still think they’d make a cute couple

alexandrasaintmleux “kiss my ass” i’ll definitely kiss your baby 🫦😘

⤷ y/nusername kiss my ass anytime you want sweetheart

⤷ charles_leclerc weird but sure

⤷ y/nusername @/charles_leclerc how do i put this gently?? she wasn’t talking to you idiot

———————————————————————

carlossainz55

liked by landonorris, y/nusername and others

carlossainz55 is this what you kids call a “hard launch”?

tagged y/nusername

comments…

user1 i already love them so much

landonorris yes buddy, this is a hard launch

user2 my parents

user3 f1 bestie turned f1 wag, we love to see it

charles_leclerc if you hurt her, i will not hesitate to crash into every race

⤷ scuderiaferrari no charles

⤷ carlossainz55 @/charles_leclerc wouldn’t dream of it

user4 they’re so cute

y/nusername i wanted to soft launch 😔 soft launches are more fun

⤷ carlossainz55 i’m sorry mi amor, i just like showing you off ❤️

⤷ y/nusername …you’re forgiven ❤️

user5 I FUCKING CALLED IT!!! FROM DAY ONE!!!

———————————————————————

y/nusername

liked by carlossainz55, georgerussell63 and others

y/nusername wanted to soft launch cause it’s fun watching you all scramble for answers but i guess carlos is incapable so yk, here’s my wonderful, amazing, gorgeous boyfriend. (and about bali… no i didn’t “find him” 🫣)

tagged carlossainz55

comments…

user1 I KNEW THEY WERE IN BALI TOGETHER

user2 stop they’re so cute

user3 chef carlos came out in that second pic

⤷ y/nusername he kicked me out the kitchen. my own kitchen.

charles_leclerc i knew it was mistake getting you to come to a race

⤷ y/nusername girl stfu you begged

user4 vacation carlos is so sexy 😍

⤷ y/nusername i know right, making me feel things

carlossainz55 cariño ❤️

⤷ y/nusername te amo ❤️

user5 from day one. you guys will never forget how i called this from. day. one

alexandrasaintmleux stole my girl

⤷ y/nusername yk i’m always yours ❤️🤫

carlossainz55 when are you coming home?

⤷ y/nusername i’m on my way now

⤷ carlossainz55 good i have a surprise for you 😉

⤷ y/nusername running 🏃🏻‍♀️ 💨

⤷ charles_leclerc no.

———————————————————————

no part 2 requests for this one pls xx i hope you all enjoyed

comment to be added to tag list

taglist; @danielshoe @amorrziinho @soamericn @urfavwelshie @xylinasdiary @cleaswn @marknolee @shineforever19 @formulaal @manicpixiemom @lemon-lav

#f1 #f1 drivers x reader #formula one #f1 fanfic #x yn #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz imagine #cs55 #cs55 x reader #cs55 imagine #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x y/n #cs55 fic #f1 smau #smau #fanfiction

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months

Text

Wicked Games 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, cheating, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: you had a one night stand. Or did you?

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Guilt. You can't deny it any longer. Your stomach is chaos. Everything you eat threatens to come back up or churns like cement.

Something happened. Something you can't remember but you know what it was. Yet it isn't just that mistake that eats away at you. It's the one keeping you awake. The one draining you of energy and money alike. Your marriage.

Stupid is an understatement. You didn't think any of this through. It's catching up to you. You didn't just fuck around because you’re angry. No, you're unhappy.

But you did fuck around. For all you can say about Barrett, he didn't do that. It's over but you just don't know how to end it. He doesn't either.

Tonight? You say that every day but you find an excuse not to do it. You're tired, you have to make dinner, you'll do it tomorrow when he isn't in a mood.

That night you delay the inevitable with a trip to the pharmacy. You need something for your stomach. Once you get it under control, you'll be able to think.

You grab the cheapest anti-nauseant on the shelf and read it over. May cause drowsiness. Well, what doesn't make you tired?

"Got a bug?" The deep timbre scares you for more than its abruptness. It's familiar. Your vision flickers like a strobe light as you look over.

It's him. Again. Captain America. What are the odds?

"Ate something, I think," you murmur.

He watches you. It's like he's waiting for something. You stare back.

"Anyway..." you glance around him. "Sorry, if I'm in your way."

You take a step back to clear the view of the shelf.

"Nah, this stuff doesn't affect me. Can't remember the last time I had a stomach ache," he scoffs and turns. He grips the edge of a shelf as he faces you. "You never texted back."

You flinch and flutter your lashes. "Texted?"

He grins and puts his hand across his chest and drags it down. He laughs, "we had a good night, didn't we?"

"Huh, I don't know what you're talking about."

"Really, you don't? 'Cause I can hear your heart racing."

You blink and look around, "really I don't--"

"I'm sure that works with your husband. You two did look awfully happy at the grocery store. I could see the disgust crawling all over you," he snickers.

"Excuse me, I don't know you. So please, go away."

He clucks and stands straight. He drops his arms and frames his hips, "is that how you talk to your Captain? You're not how I remember you. You were a lot... nicer."

"Shut up. That didn't happen."

"Keep telling yourself that," he shrugs.

"I-- I can't remember..." you whisper. Your voice cracks, "please, I don't remember."

You look up at him with teary eyes. It was him? Of all people you had a drunken one-night stand with Steve Fucking Rogers. This can't be real.

"I remember," he steps closer. "I can't forget."

"No, please, I'm married. Alright? It was a mistake. Just a drunken night."

"Not for me," he insists. His earnestness makes you shudder.

"Look, I'm flattered but my life is complicated enough alright? I'm sorry but I'm sure you can find someone else, Cap. Someone who isn't twenty shades of fucked."

You shake the box of tablets and cringe. You turn and sweep away. You head to the checkout and go to one of the self-service machines.

He surprises you as he puts his hand on the plastic divider and looms over you. You focus on scanning the pills and paying.

"Look, Cap, I'm sorry I didn't reply." You slip your card out of your wallet.

"You ran out. I came back to an empty apartment." He juts a leg out as he leans on the divider.

"Sure, but I woke up in a stranger's bed, all alone. I was a bit freaked out."

"I went to get breakfast," he says.

"Did you not notice the ring on my finger?" The machine blares in rejection of your card. You curse under your breath and try again.

"You didn't seem to," he retorts.

You swallow as your card is rejected again. You toss the pills on the little ledge next to the till and huff. "It happened and I'm sorry I didn't say goodbye but I got enough going on."

He sucks in through his nose and lets it out slowly. You turn away and he snarls, "I can hear the other heartbeat too, you know?"

You stop short. What the fuck is he talking about? You gather what pride you have left and set your chin high. You march out without looking back.

Other heartbeat?

The nausea, the exhaustion, the aversion to the candle in your bathroom. No. It makes sense but it can't be true.

You can't handle anything else. You just can't. You can't afford a pregnancy test, let alone a baby.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #series #drabble #wicked games #captain america #mcu #marvel #avengers

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jaylaxies · 11 months

Text

KINKTOBER DAY 30 — SOMNOPHILIA

PAIRING: jay x fem!reader

GENRE/CW: smut, cnc, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, usage of nicknames, somnophilia.

WC: 1.1k words

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni

A/N: hihi, angels! another one of my purely self indulgent fic omg i hope you guys will like it :3 all likes, comments, reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated! iloveyou all <33

✎ kinktober masterlist

“Fuck! I shouldn’t be reading this.”

Jay was by far, possibly the sweetest guy you had ever come across in life. Despite having the face of a literal god, he was always calm and humble, everything you could have asked for in a roommate.

Which also meant that he respected your boundaries, a little too much for your liking, never looking your way for more than ten seconds, failing to maintain eye contact.

You thought he was doing it to be respectful towards you, but the groans of your name coming from his room at night said otherwise. Sharing spaces meant that you had to do such things (read: be respectful) but you didn’t want that.

You often find yourself pondering about how it would be had Jay been a little different, a little more shameless with his approach. He was beautiful, he clearly oozed confidence and was the epitome of non sexual dominance.

Yet your mind kept drifting to the question of how it would be to feel his sexual dominance instead.

Jay may be a saint but you weren’t one by any means, you’d stare at him any chance you get, it’s always the best sight to see him stretching in the morning with grey sweatpants on.

And as an output to your pent up frustration, you keep a diary of the things you want Jay to do to you, writing about your fantasies in your own handwriting because writing on the notes app doesn’t feel as filthy.

You took your chance when Jay came into your room to ask for a few extra hangers to arrange his new shirts.

Your diary was wide open as Jay sat down on your bed. He didn’t mean to pry, but it was literally right in front of his eyes as he waited for you to get those hangers from the storage.

His name on your diary though, was enough to get his attention.

I wish Jay would be a little bold, I just wish he’d be a little more perverted. I wish he’d touch me and use me for his pleasure instead of locking his room and moaning out my name during nights when he thinks I’m asleep. He’s too sweet, too much of a gentleman to make any moves. But it won’t stop me from wishing to be woken up with his cock stuffed in my pussy, there’s nothing more I ask for.

Jay didn’t realize just how tight his grip was on your diary, not being able to comprehend the filth you had been writing. He kept the diary back the second he heard you coming back with the hangers.

He couldn’t look you in the eyes, too deep in his head still thinking about how you had admitted that you wanted to be fucked by him while sleeping.

He couldn’t sleep that night, nor could he work up the courage to get into your room to do exactly what you had wanted from him. However, he couldn’t stop himself from getting hard too.

He really wanted to fuck you senseless.

You were disappointed. You knew that Jay had definitely come across your diary, yet he turned a blind eye on it, which you thought would be out of respect again, when in reality, Jay was simply trying to convince himself that you wanted it.

Two nights passed by, and you lost a sliver of hope. Still, you wore your slip nightgown with no panties just in case.

Jay was fucked up, his carnal desire taking over as he got up from his bed, “she wants it,” he told himself in front of the mirror, nodding once before making his way to your room.

The dim lights of your room were enough to guide him to your bed and he was extra careful, taking the blanket off your figure, a low groan leaving his mouth the second he saw your little dress all ridden up, displaying your pussy to him.

“Fuck,” he moved closer to get a better look, caressing your thighs gently to make sure you were deep in your sleep.

He wants to ruin you already, parting your legs when he doesn’t sense any movement from you, getting in between to have a little taste, which he’d been craving since the day he first saw you. He starts off gently, littering soft kisses over the expanse of your inner thighs, squeezing them as he gets closer to your core.

He licks his lips at the sight of your glistening folds, chuckling at the fact that your body responds to his touches despite you being asleep.

You stir in your sleep the second he lays his tongue flat against your cunt, he’s slow with his movements, but also tempted to be fast as he engages in circling your clit with his thumb, his tongue working wonders on your folds.

A gasp leaves your mouth, causing him to freeze his actions for a brief second, getting up to look at your eyes which were still closed, breathing slightly sped up, which means that he had to work fast.

He spit on your cunt for lubrication, getting rid of his sweatpants as he didn’t bother wearing any T-shirt. He was hard. Harder than he had ever been, precum leaking from the tip of his cock, which he strokes a few times before positioning himself, his cock prodding your entrance.

“Gonna have you screaming for my cock,” Jay whispered, looking at your innocent sleeping face.

He grabs your waist, getting into the missionary position, not before giving your tits some attention and squeezes, but now he was desperate to have his cock in you.

It’s easy to bottom out with how wet you are, his groans loud with how your warm walls clenched around him so desperately, and he could sense that your sleep was on the verge of breaking, your eyes blinking open.

“J—Jay?” You moan, seeing him on top of you with his cock stuffed deep inside your pussy.

It felt like a dream, especially when you had lost hope, your eyes rolling to the back of your head when his tip hit that particular spot.

His chain caressed your clavicle, “finally awake, baby?” He whispered, thrusting in deeper, your back arching as you held on to his shoulders for support, “been waiting for me to fuck you, hm? Now you have me,” he groaned.

“Fuck—Jay,” you cried out, breathy moans leaving your mouth and he bends down to kiss you feverishly, “I’ve been waiting so long for this,” you admit, “didn’t think you’d do it—”

“Yeah?” He took it as a challenge to go even harder, “why? Cause I’m too much of a gentleman?” He mocked your diary entry, making it a point to twist around slightly to thrust in deeper, his hips snapping against yours, chuckling when you mumble incoherently.

“I’ll show you how much of a gentleman I can be, baby.”

THANK YOU FOR READING!

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little-diable · 6 months

Text

May thy knife – Feyd-Rautha (smut)

This is y'alls fault, all your comments made me write this. So, here we go, psychotic reader is back, but with a somewhat loving relationship. It felt only right to twist this famous scene – I'm sure this has been done before but I haven't read a fic that takes on this twist just yet, so I'm in no means copying any fic out there. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: What if the reader, who is married to Feyd-Rautha, didn't know that Paul, her brother, was still alive? What if it was her fighting against him instead of Feyd – all for revenge, to make her brother feel the same pain he had forced her to feel with his faked death?

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, oral (m), willingly rough loss of virginity, choking, dom!Feyd, degrading, spitting, fighting, passing out, blood licking, knife licking, reader is a psycho fitting Feyd, yet there's some form of love between the two, and no, I ain't killing us so we survive the fight

Pairing: Feyd-Rautha x fem!Atreides!reader (4.2k words)

The hatred she emanated was felt by all people surrounding her, people who didn’t dare meet her icy gaze – not even the emperor dared to turn towards (y/n). It was a wise decision, for the sake of all their lives, knowing that she could rob their soul and their last breath even without any weapons on her.

It had only been a few minutes since they had been taken prisoner, and while (y/n) could have easily fought her way out of the tight grasp, she hadn’t been able to move. Frozen to her spot as she had never been before, unable to move as her eyes followed the frame of the Muad’Dib. Paul Atreides. Her brother. The man she had believed to be dead for endless weeks. The prophet who hadn’t spotted her in the small crowd.

Not even Feyd-Rautha’s closeness had managed to rile her up at that moment, the man she had been forced to marry, the man she hadn’t allowed to touch her, not even on their wedding night. It hadn’t taken him long to accept that she’d cut off his hands should he touch her, speaking lies to the Baron to answer private questions that had left (y/n)’s insides churning. Feyd had protected her even when she went against a simple contract, lured closer by the darkness she carried deep within herself.

She had made too many sacrifices for her brother and their mother’s lies, tossed away for a strategic marriage she hadn’t been prepared for. All to mourn her brother who was still alive and breathing, guiding those who saw the prophet in him.

“You’re quiet. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this, wife.” Feyd’s breath teased her neck, he stood with his armoured front pressed against her back, hands resting on her waist. It was a dangerous game, a game she didn’t buy into, too focused on her racing mind. Feyd gave (y/n) another moment to push him away, just like she had always done – but she didn’t, she kept herself pressed against him as if he was an anchor saving her from drowning. “What are you planning?”

“How I will kill the Muad’Dib.” Not one ounce of love thumped through her veins, an emotion she had once held onto, at least for her older brother; a love that had frozen in her system the second she had heard his voice ring in her ears minutes ago. Feyd’s raspy chuckles left her skin tingling, adding fuel to the fire simmering deep inside of her.

For a moment, (y/n) allowed herself to focus on her husband’s touch, how he held onto her, tight enough to send a clear message to wandering eyes. He may have not claimed her behind closed doors, addicted to their game of back-and-forth, but to all those eyes, she was his as he was hers, a ruthless husband to a cunning wife.

“You know, I am always excited for a fight.” She wanted to reply, wanted to tease him for fighting against drugged prisoners who never stood a chance against him, but the second his cold lips met her throat, her words were lost on her sharp tongue. Her heart roared in her chest, not used to being kissed by Feyd, not after their first and only kiss in front of their wedding guests.

“You won’t fight. This is between my brother and me.” (Y/n) turned in Feyd’s grasp, letting her eyes wander over her husband’s features. He was handsome, she had always been drawn to him, and yet something had always held her back – the fear of being tied down by a man who perfectly matched her ruthless ways, a man who would rather kill himself than back down from a fight, just like (y/n). They were too similar, a scary realisation she had been forced to face many moons ago.

“I will let you fight, wife, but for that, I get to claim you tonight.” The mischief twinkling in his bright pupils pushed anger through her, anger clashing against lust. Her mind didn’t get to interfere as (y/n) shifted her weight onto her toes to press a kiss to his lips. She pulled away before Feyd could deepen the kiss, heart roaring in her chest as if it was communicating with his.

“You’ll have to lick my brother’s blood off me before you get to touch me.” Her words were meant as a warning, a warning Feyd clearly found enjoyment in. And with his raspy laugh echoing through the room, she found herself thrown back into her darkening mindset, preparing for a fight against her brother.

……

“How can you be so sure the Great Houses are here for me?” Paul’s voice filled the room. She didn’t see much of his frame, standing behind Feyd to shield herself from her brother’s and her mother’s eyes. She hated the way her fingers trembled, urged on by her anger, by her sadness, emotions flushing through her like poison set to kill her. “They may be curious to hear my side of the story, don’t you think? I am Paul Atreides, son of Leto Atreides, Duke of Arrakis.”

She wanted to shoot forward, wanted to throw herself against her brother’s frame to force him to his knees. But the hand Feyd pressed against her stomach to hold her back was enough to stay glued to her spot. The time wasn’t right just yet.

“Gurney, send a warning to all ships. If the Great Houses attack, our atomics will obliterate all spice fields.” Paul’s words left most of the people surrounding (y/n) tensing, words that were about to force a laugh out of her. She could feel and see her mother’s influence on Paul, forming him into the son she had always dreamt him to be.

“You’re out of your mind.” The Emperor’s slightly trembling voice drew a smirk to both (y/n) and Feyd’s lips, they got a taste of the chaos soon unfolding in front of them, drawing a sick sense of satisfaction and anticipation through the couple.

“He’s bluffing.” She couldn’t stop a soft laugh from leaving her at her husband’s words, urged on by the need to stand even closer. Her body was guiding her without giving her mind a chance to protest as her hand found Feyd’s. She was still covered by his tall frame, and yet she felt him freezing for just a second as she interlaced their hands.

“Consider what you’re about to do, Paul Atreides.” Within seconds, the voice filled their ears, forcing the Reverend Mother to lose her balance. No longer could (y/n) focus on the exchange between Paul and the Emperor, no longer could she focus on Feyd whose hand she had dropped once again. (Y/n) knew that the time was finally right, it was now or never, a fight that would end with either her’s or her brother’s life on the line.

“Stand or choose your champion.” Those were the words that ripped (y/n) out of her trance, pushing past her husband. She didn’t see how Feyd’s fingers twitched, having to stop himself from reaching for her, to stop (y/n) from fighting a battle he had been destined for.

“I’m here, Paul.” (Y/n) spoke the words with venom dripping from her voice, watching her brother’s bright pupils widen. From the corner of her eye, she could watch her mother shoot to her feet, and yet (y/n) didn’t dare let her gaze wander, enjoying the realisation that began to widen on her brother’s panicked features. “I need a blade.”

“Accept mine.” She didn’t rip her eyes from her brother’s to look at the Emperor, seizing the chance to read Paul well enough to tell her that he fought an inner battle. Paul whispered her name as he slightly shook his head, begging his sister to step away. Her tongue kissed her teeth as a blood-curdling smile widened on her lips, she didn’t need to speak up to tell Paul that she’d try everything she could to kill him, a simple act of revenge for leaving her, for forgetting her, for playing her.

With a slow nod thrown her way, seemingly accepting her will to fight, Paul turned from (y/n) to walk back towards his people. Only Feyd’s hand on her waist managed to rip her gaze from her brother’s frame, “Make me proud wife. Kill him.”

Feyd squeezed her waist as he pressed a harsh kiss to her lips, a clear signal for all those who were watching their interaction. He’d kill them all should she die, avenge her death as if it was his own life they tried to take. Without speaking another word, (y/n) pushed Feyd away from her, she tightened her grip on the Emperor’s blade, and let her feet carry her towards her brother.

“(Y/n),” Paul’s choked-up voice drew a humourless chuckle out of her. For a moment, she allowed her gaze to stray, to look at their pregnant mother and the unreadable expression she wore. (Y/n) had never been the favourite child, even though she was the girl Jessica had been asked to birth. She had always been too ruthless, too cold, too cunning for their family, the outcast who had been married to Feyd at the first given chance.

“Say it.” (Y/n)’s words were venomous, spat at her brother whose pained expression made him appear even more pathetic in her eyes. She wanted Paul to speak the words, words the siblings had spoken as mere children whenever they challenged one another into a play fight. Paul kept quiet, unable to part his lips until she almost screamed her words, “Say it!”

“May thy knife chip and shatter.” Paul’s voice trembled as he spoke the words, momentarily closing his eyes as if he struggled to accept their fate, to accept that he was expected to kill his beloved sister, unable to back down from a fight like this. She repeated the words much slower than Paul had, with a dangerous smile tugging on her lips – no longer did (y/n) care about her own life, about the mere chance of dying in her brother’s arms. She was hungry for revenge, to make him feel the pain she had been forced to carry deep within herself these past weeks.

And then everything began to blur, one attack after another, one strike after another, one stumble after another. She felt all their eyes on them as they fought, but (y/n) couldn’t give into the temptation to study the crowd, searching for Feyd’s eyes that were glistening with adoration for his wife. A woman fighting like a snake, slithering along Paul’s body to squeeze him to death.

Only as Paul’s knife cut (y/n)’s skin for the first time did her world begin to slow down, momentarily stopping its spinning motion. Paul seemed to freeze just like she did, focusing on the blood pouring from the wound. Perhaps he expected her to back down, to leave the circle to search for her husband’s protection. But (y/n) did something she had studied her husband do one too many times: Her fingers found her wound, picking up the drops of blood to suck her fingers clean, high on the coppery taste. Feyd’s laughter rang in her ears as she attacked her brother once again, faster this time, even more ruthless than the rounds before.

With blood sticking to her lips, (y/n) and Paul kept circling one another – all until she seized her chance to ram her knife into his side. Paul’s gasp forced their mother to her feet once again, searching her daughter’s eyes to shake her head, a silent warning not to kill her brother, a silent gesture that they wouldn’t mourn her death, only Paul’s. But while her mother’s eyes carried a clear warning, Feyd’s carried encouragement, asking his wife to end this right there and then.

A moment of distraction that gave her brother the chance to slice his blade through her skin, forcing it to nestle inside her stomach. Both siblings held onto one another, glassy eyes finding back together as neither loosened their grip.

“Do it, kill me. Feel the pain you’ve forced me to feel, feel the grief that has almost killed me.” Tears dripped from (y/n)’s eyes as she choked on her blood, knowing that she’d pass out any moment now. And even though she felt the darkness creeping through her veins, telling her that it was time to bid this life goodbye, a smile began to widen on her lips.

This was the moment she had imagined all these weeks, it was finally upon them.

Slowly Paul sacked to the ground with (y/n) clinging to him, holding onto her as he lifted his teary gaze. She didn’t see the way her brother's panicked gaze looked around the room, didn’t see the way his eyes found Feyd’s rage-filled ones, luring her husband closer. All she could focus on were the tears dripping from Paul’s bright eyes, holding back his sobs as Feyd kneeled next to them.

“Do whatever you must, save my sister.”

……

She woke with a gasp, eyes shooting open. It took her a moment to focus on her surroundings, the grey walls, the dim light, and the figure standing close to her bed. Pain shot through her as she tried to move, forced to plop back down onto the mattress with a curse clawing through her.

“You’re finally awake.” Feyd’s raspy voice drew a whimper from (y/n)’s chapped lips, eyes momentarily fluttering close to try and remind herself of what had happened. “You almost died, killed by your foolish brother who has never fought fair before. I should have killed him for hurting you.”

“Come here.” (Y/n) ignored her husband’s words, not daring to think of her brother, of their fight, and of the blood she had lost. Wordlessly, Feyd came to a halt next to her, staring down at her to wait for (y/n)’s next command. With another gasp roaring through her, she shuffled around on the bed, making space for her husband to lay next to her. “If you tell others of this I will kill you.”

His chuckles filled the room as he carefully placed himself next to her. The moment had something awfully intimate to it, giving the married couple a chance to be close to one another for the first time, without any eyes on them, without hatred urging words to leave their cold lips.

Feyd’s hand slightly trembled as he reached for her no longer bloody fingers, slowly interlacing them. Never had he done this before, reaching for her without any further message to communicate, holding onto her for the mere chance to be close to her.

“What happened to Paul?” Pain clawed through her at the thought of her brother. Anger had forced her to act, anger she hadn’t been able to swallow until now, unsure how to accept that her family had lied to her.

“Don’t worry about him for now.” Feyd didn’t tell her how he had left the planet with her, how he had brought her away from that place. Feyd didn’t tell her how he had sworn to Paul that he’d avenge (y/n)’s death should she die. Feyd didn’t tell her how Paul had told others to let them go, not knowing where Feyd was taking (y/n), not knowing if he’d ever see his sister again.

And at that very moment, (y/n) didn’t find the strength to ask another question, the strength she would regain soon enough to find her path back to her cunning self, set on ending the ruleless game between her and her family.

……

“Fight like a Harkonnen for fuck’s sake!” Anger pushed her words past her clenched teeth. Sweat was pooling on (y/n)’s forehead as she stared at her husband with spite swimming in her pupils. She knew Feyd was holding back, not trusting that (y/n) had regained her full strength just yet, the strength she’d need to force him to his knees in a training session like this.

“Wife.” It was a warning he spoke, a warning not to rile him up even further, knowing that he’d lose his patience soon enough. (Y/n) darted at her husband, her body collided with his to throw them both to the ground. She straddled his waist with a grim expression tugging on her features, knowing that in any other scenario, she wouldn’t have been able to attack Feyd like that. “Fine, this is your own fault, darling.”

Feyd harshly pushed her off him, momentarily robbing his wife of her breath as her back collided with the cold ground. He rose to his feet with his jaw clenched and his hands balled into fists – the version of her husband (y/n) desperately had tried to trigger. They circled one another, holding onto their blades with twitching fingers, set on regaining the upper hand.

Now it was on Feyd to attack first, his blade met hers over and over again, until he cut her cheek, drawing a hiss out of (y/n). She was heavily panting as he chuckled, bringing the bloody tip of his blade up to his pale lips to lick it clean, moaning at the taste of her blood.

Something began to shift at that moment, something that forced her to drop her blade, to throw herself into his grasp and to kiss him. Both fell back to the ground, allowing Feyd to cage her between the floor and his frame. His hand found her throat to keep her pinned down beneath him, all while their tongues fought for victory.

(Y/n) tightened her legs' grasp around his waist to pull him even closer, moaning at the way he ground his hips against hers, making her feel his hardening cock straining against his tight trousers. Everything about this moment was new to her, unsure of where to go from there without any experience guiding her, not knowing how to touch her husband. And yet, everything seemed to come almost naturally to her, trusting her body and Feyd to push her through the soaring waves of heat filling her trembling body.

“I should have fucked you months ago. You had your chance, but now I won’t be gentle with you, I will fuck you as a woman like you deserves to be fucked.” His words shot heat straight to her core, words that forced her to hold still as Feyd kept manhandling her, cutting her shirt open with his blade. The groan that left him at the sight of her naked chest made (y/nn) back arch, desperate to feel his hands on her. “I should tie you up, keep you as my toy to claim whenever I am hungry for you. I bet you’d enjoy that, wouldn’t you?”

“I hate you!” It was nothing but a lie, a lie both easily saw through, but at that very moment neither Feyd nor (y/n) cared about pleasantries, urged on by their desires. He cut open her trousers before another curse could leave her, exposing her arousal-covered folds to his darkening eyes. Tonight he’d litter her in bruises. Tonight he’d force her to follow his rules. Tonight he’d show her his most ruthless side.

“Hate me all you want, wife, your body still craves the touch of your husband. You’re dripping for me.” He didn’t warn her before he plunged two fingers into her tightness, feeling her walls flutter around his digits. Feyd held eye contact with her as he spat on her cunt, rubbing his saliva against her pulsing bundle. (Y/n)’s moans rang in his ears, urging him on as if he was high on spice, blurring out their surroundings, blurring out the calmness they were now disturbing. “I can’t wait to rip you open with my cock, make you feel pain you won’t ever forget.”

Her mind was silenced, fogged up by the lust thumping through her veins. Feyd fucked her with his fingers, he pushed her closer to the high she had only allowed herself to feel whenever she had been desperate for his touch but too proud to search his closeness. But her body wasn’t ready to give up the chase just yet. Her hand found her blade, moving without gaining Feyd’s attention, who was still fully focused on her cunt.

With quick movements, she brought the tip of her blade to his throat, stopping him in his movements. The chuckle leaving Feyd left her smirking, looking even more psychotic with the blood still dripping from the cut on her cheek. She barely put up a fight as Feyd ripped the blade from her hand, as he shifted them around to bring her to her knees and up against his front.

The blade teased her throat as he held her to him, even as he freed his aching cock, ready to disappear deep inside of her, “You had your chance, I would have prepared you for my cock, would have given you time to adjust. But that kindness is no longer among us. Now you’ll take my cock like my own personal whore.”

He forced his cock into her cunt, groaning at the tightness engulfing him. Tears ran down her cheeks, tears of lust, of pain, of desperation – finding an unfamiliar sense of enjoyment in Feyd’s rough touches. His name rolled off her tongue as he fucked into her from behind, dropping the knife to choke her with his cold hands once again.

Feyd was treating her like his pet, treating her like he had been raised to treat women – momentarily forgetting about the love he fostered deep inside of him. And she loved every second of it, finally able to give up control for the first time.

“It brings me great pleasure knowing that no other man will ever get to have you like this. Your body is mine, you’re my whore, you only listen to my commands. And you will kill whoever dares to touch you should I not be fast enough to do it myself.” His words left her choking, forced to claw her fingernails into his pale skin as her mind began to race. Even though the words didn’t sound like it, it was the most sincere love confession Feyd had ever spoken, words that cut deeper than any blade ever would.

“Feyd.” She whimpered his name as his free hand found her clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves to push her towards the edge. The first of many orgasms was awaiting her, set on ripping her from this place into another dimension, led by her husband. (Y/n) felt his black teeth run along her neck, biting the spot where her neck met her shoulders, close to drawing some more blood from her weeping body.

She came without another word clawing through her, calling out his name as her orgasm momentarily robbed her of her vision. Feyd kept a strong hold on her throat, his hips kept meeting her behind, forcing his cock further into her clenched tightness. He gave it a few more thrusts before he pulled out of her and rose to his feet.

With his hand finding her hair, he forced her towards him, making her scalp burn from the strength of his touch. His cock was shoved past her parted lips, letting (y/n) taste herself on his cock as he fucked her mouth. The corners of her mouth began to burn within a few moments, once again making tears fall from her glassy eyes.

She had never seen her husband like this, trembling for her, with his head thrown back, and his eyes closed, fully focused on the pleasure thumping through her. No longer did she feel the need to fight, no longer did her fingertips ache for the feeling of her blade, no, for the first time since knowing Feyd, she wanted to give her everything to satisfy the man.

“You’ll swallow every drop of my seed, and then you’ll lick me clean.” It was a simple command, a command that left her moaning around his cock. Feyd came within a few more seconds, releasing himself down her throat and on her eager tongue. The two held eye contact as she swallowed, as she ran her tongue up and down his twitching length, following his every command.

“Where are you going, wife?” She froze in her movements, her heavily panting self had turned from him, set on plopping down on the ground to catch her breath. (Y/n)’s wide eyes were drawn back to his like spice forced up into the air, following the wind’s call. “That was only the beginning. I won’t be done with you for a while.”

#Feyd Rautha smut #Feyd Rautha imagine #Austin Butler #Feyd Rautha x reader #dune imagine

668 notes · View notes

il-miele-che-scrive · 7 months

Note

Can I request something similar to your latest Lewis smau except y/n is Toto's daughter? It's controversial because she's younger, you know the drill

Sure!! <3 For this one I made Y/n a singer

Btw the song in this fic is made up lol

username1 She's PRECIOUS

username2 Y/n is so me

username3 Honestly that's so reletable

username4 I swear this girl will pet any creature she can, how isn't she scared of catching some disease?

↳username1 Have you ever heard of water? Is the concept of washing your hands familiar to you?

username5 Oh to be a cat pet by Y/n Wolff...

username6 A rich girl petting strays... Imagine how much of a better place the world would be if she put the same energy into some charity work

↳username7 Y/n is known for doing charity work when it comes to animals. Pretty sure some % of her earnings goes to several pet charities, organizations. Not to mention she's been vegan for a few years now

↳username8 Wow immagine if you did your research before commenting

↳username9 i love how Y/n was born into the rich life but has always been humble and used her money to help others

username10 Literally she gets a lot of hate for being a daughter of a billionaire like okay next time she'll choose to be born poor lmao

username11 exactly!! there's a difference between flexing on daddy's money and using your daddy's money for good causes

username9 pretty sure she makes her own money now;)

y/n_wolff Busy day at work 😋 look who I bumped into on the way to the studio!!

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georgerussell63 Look at you finally doing some work

↳y/n_wolff Don't worry, soon I'm back at my 2nd job (I just hang around the paddock looking all pretty and stuff)

georgerussell63 No, thank you ❤️ we don't miss you

lewishamilton Speak for yourself George, Roscoe likes when Y/n babysits him

y/n_wolff Roscoe is the only one who understands me for real 😭

roscoelovescoco Petition for an invitation next time you go to the studio

↳y/n_wolff I swear I sent one, it must've got lost on the way 🥹 the pigeon dropped it or something

roscoelovescoco Still using pigeons? That's not very vegan of you...

y/n_wolff Hey! I pay them, alright? If they didn't want to, they wouldn't do this job...

y/n_wolff (hey everyone this is a joke obv)

username3 Imagine what will happen when the haters see this comment section lol

mercedesamgf1 Can't wait to hear it ❤️

↳y/n_wolff 🫶

oscarpiastri Look at that last pic of Y/n with Lando

↳landonorris fuck you if I was an animal i wouldn't be a cat

y/n_wolff Right, you'd be a worm.

landonorris would you guys still love me if I was a worm?

oscarpiastri No

y/n_wolff No

username1 May this be a love song 🤞I need to her one from Y/n after her terrible breakup last year

↳username2 She had a boyfriend last year??

username1 Yeah, we don't know anything about him besides the fact that he broke her heart... Poor girl deserves some true love

username2 Was it a driver?

username1 I highly doubt it, they wouldn't be able to keep it so private

alex_albon Pls make it singable on track

↳y/n_wolff 😬 well...

alex_albon Y/n...

y/n_wolff It's a love song...

username4 SHE ADMITTED!! IT'S A LOVE SONG!!

↳username5 Our girl is in love again 😭

username4 I just hope he treats her better than her ex. Otherwise imma need to talk to him

maxverstappen1 If you like cats so much you should come over sometime

↳username4 Cats rizz 💀

↳username2 No cuz Max has had a crush on Y/n for so long now and I'd love to see them together

↳y/n_wolff You're a few weeks too late 😂🙈

username3 EXCUSE ME I NEED TO KNOW WHO THE MAN IS

username5 Me too, I just wanna talk... *cracking fingers*

y/n_wolff The one I prayed for out now, let me know your thoughts 🩷🕊️

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georgerussell63 Since when are you so religious?🤨

↳y/n_wolff He changed me ❤️

oscarpiastri Great, another song Lando will make me unwillingly listen to

↳y/n_wolff You love my music, don't lie

landonorris yes he does

oscarpiastri Alright, I know a few songs

y/n_wolff A few songs my ass, I saw that iconic interview where you and Lando sing my songs

landonorris he will never admit it but he was a fan YEARS before he got into f1 and met you

y/n_wolff Not like I stalk his Twitter but I saw a post from 2019 about me, it had like 5 likes and Oscar was one of them lmao

landonorris i knew you had daddy issues but are you okay?

↳y/n_wolff Yeah why?? Wtf??

landonorris well after hearing this song I'm not

username1 "They may judge the age we are, the differences they see, but love knows not of boundaries, it only seeks to be free" MY GIRL IS A POET 😭

username2 I'm not ready to meet this man after hearing "He's walked through fire, faced his fears, but in his heart, there's room for tears" 😭

carmenmmundt Truly in love with the lyrics, they're out of this world, out of this century

↳y/n_wolff Thank you love 🥹

lewishamilton The chorus got me in a chokehold💜

↳y/n_wolff He's the one I prayed for, in the dead of night, a love like ours, hidden from sight. If people knew, they'd say it's wrong, but in his arms I belong🥹

↳username4 What is Lewis doing here...?

username5 Chill, he drives for Mercedes. George also commented in case you didn't notice

username3 Lyrics so beautiful miss girl was born in the wrong generation

↳username2 fr it sounds straight from 20th century poetry, she's too pure for the age of quick tinder hookups

username6 I knew what her father was like but damn...that song screams daddy issues...

↳username7 Y/n said music is her therapy, that's just how she chooses to express her emotions

username8 When are we going to talk about this part of the lyrics?? "In his eyes, reflections of victory, every triumph and mystery. He's raced through life, faced every curve"?? THIS HAS TO BE ABOUT A DRIVER

↳username9 Y/N AND MAX???

username10 me when I'm delusional

↳username11 I wish it was about Max, but it's certainly about an older guy. I mean, Max is a few years older than Y/n, but the song feels like the guy is in his 30s

lewishamilton Summer break = days spent at the beach

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username1 Sir Lewis Hamilton casually adding his boss' daughter to his vacation pics 🤨

↳username2 fr did he think we wouldn't notice?

georgerussell63 Blink twice if Y/n forced you to post the last photo

↳lewishamilton She kindly asked and I agreed.

y/n_wolff Exactly. That's what I do. I ask. Kindly.

username3 SO HER SONG IS ABOUT HIM??

↳username4 Seems like it 🥹

username3 idk how I feel about it tbh... she's too young for him

username5 Yeah imo she'd be better with Max

username4 Shut the hell up guys, let them be happy, there must be a reason they're together

landonorris that's called soft launching, did you know that?

↳y/n_wolff Wdym?? We're just team bonding during the summer break

georgerussell63 Then why wasn't I at the team bonding?

y/n_wolff Uhhhh I'll call you back later, I'm driving through a tunnel 😬

username6 She's too young for him, will have her fun and move onto the next guy (Max?)

↳username7 You're the reason why so many celebs prefer to keep their relationships a secret

username8 WHAT DID TOTO SAY??

↳username6 Does he even know? 💀 AFAIK he doesn't have social media

username8 But it's impossible that he wouldn't know, right...?

y/n_wolff I love you but what is this basic caption?😭

↳lewishamilton I'd rather like to focus on how pretty you look

y/n_wolff I LOVE YOU 😭

landonorris simp

y/n_wolff Stfu Lando, you wish you could hang out with us at the beach

username3 Lmao didn't expect Lando calling the 7 times world champion a simp but here we are

username9 Okay guys but... The girlfriend effect? How will the girlfriend effect work in this case if Lewis is a fashion icon already?

↳username10 There must be a way for an upgrade, there always is

y/n_wolff Sorry, he's all perfect already🫶I guess the gf effect only applies to boys and my man is a real man🗡

maxverstappen1 Have fun ☀️ see you back on track soon

↳username6 Something doesn't feels right seeing Max in this comment section...

username10 Get your shit together, him and Y/n never had a thing, y'all made it all up based on one interview Max gave years ago

mercedesamgf1 🌞😎

y/n_wolff He's the one I prayed for

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lewishamilton I love you babe but what is this basic caption?

↳y/n_wolff You're learning from the best, I see

georgerussell63 Good to know you're still team bonding 👍

↳y/n_wolff Yeah, we bonded really hard last night😌

georgerussell63 TMI

oscarpiastri The last pic 🤓

↳landonorris she's getting bold isn't she

y/n_wolff I don't have reasons to be shy tho, do I?

landonorris girl made one good song and made it her whole personality

↳y/n_wolff This is girlhood, you'd never get it

landonorris btw this is hard launching but in a 'we don't give a fuck' way

↳y/n_wolff Well, we don't 🤷‍♀️

username1 WHAT HAPPENED TO THE LITTLE Y/N😭

↳username2 She grew up 😭

username3 I love how nonchalant they're about it

carmenmmundt Someone's been working out🤭

↳y/n_wolff Now I have a personal trainer 😌

username4 WHAT DID TOTO SAY??

↳username5 Bet we're gonna see much more of smashing his headset after the break

username6 How is she so casual about it? We just found out she's dating LEWIS MF HAMILTON and she's acting like that's nothing

↳username3 I guess it is 'nothing' for her, she's known Lewis since she was really young

username7 That's what's giving me the biggest ick because this man has known her since she was an early teen and suddenly decided to date her?

username3 Yeah but she's in her 20s now, she's a consenting adult

username7 That's not normal, this is the definition of grooming

username3 I'm sorry I'm too european for your bullshit

username8 Lewis said fuck it I'm going to Ferrari next year anyway, might as well shoot my shot 💀

username9 Max Verstappen has been really silent

↳username10 Now he'll compete with Lewis not only for the championship but also for Y/n 😂

username9 It would be such a win

username11 Can y'all MaxY/n shippers shut up? I swear y'all are worse than Lestappen shippers

y/n_wolff Roscoe working hard while his dad socializes with his grandpaw 🥳

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username1 I didn't even realize now that Y/n and Lewis are together it means Toto is Roscoe's grandpaw 😭

georgerussell63 Working hard or hardly working?

↳y/n_wolff No comment...

landonorris really shocked to see toto still gets along with lew

↳username2 Lando saying what we all think lol

↳y/n_wolff Dad was actually happy!!

landonorris does he hope you'll convince lew to stay in mercedes?

y/n_wolff How am I supposed to know 🤷‍♀️ you go talk to him

oscarpiastri New songs when?

↳y/n_wolff Soon!! (I haven't started working on them)

username2 I'm actually happy to see them happy and that Toto accepts Lewis as Y/n's boyfriend

↳username3 It's still weird 💀 imagine calling a 40 year old your 'boyfriend'

username2 People are allowed to find love at any age

username3 Lewis is closer in age to Toto than to Y/n

username2 And? Y/n isn't a child, she's a grown woman, if Lewis is what she wants, who are we to judge?

username3 It's just icky... It's not gonna last long

username4 I still can't stop thinking what could be if Y/n was dating Max 🥹

↳username5 fr my dream couple

username6 Y'all see how Y/n predicted people's reaction in her song? "If people knew, they'd say it's wrong" and y'all can't stop yapping about imaginary grooming or what her and Max could've been

↳username7 Girl should've kept it a secret, I feel sorry for them 🥲

↳username8 But in his arms I belong

y/n_wolff Okay everybody, I didn't want to talk about it, but you give me no choice. Lewis and I are in love, there was no grooming involved, I make my own decisions. I really wanted to cherish our love with my new music, but you make me re-think it. I don't feel excited to share our love with you anymore.

↳lewishamilton Don't worry about them darling ❤️

↳danielricciardo FEA

↳landonorris You have our support guys

↳oscarpiastri Don't let these comments get to you, they don't matter

↳georgerussell63 I know I usually act like a snappy older brother, but I love to see you happy (even if Lewis is the reason)

↳maxverstappen1 Haters are always gonna hate, but they don't deserve your attention

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #F1 smau #Formula one smau #lewis hamilton smau #lewis hamilton social media au #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine

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thoughtsfromlayla · 6 months

Text

26 Ways of Taking You: A for Aphrodisiac

Summary: On a quest to save your little brother, you and your fated companion Dream of the Endless, run into a small problem in Aphrodite's Temple.

Notes: ~2.2k words, GUYS! I finally wrote a fic that wasn't below 500 or above 5,000 words, it just doesn't need any random side characters... or a definitive plot.

Warnings: MDNI - 18+, dubious consent, sex pollen, aphrodisiac (duh), porn without plot, unprotected sex (get tested yearly guys), P in V, no foreplay just straight fucking, Dream is a red flag but he's my red flag. I am willing to die on that hill.

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

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“A temple of Aphrodite?” You question as you walk through the marbled entrance. The overwhelming smell of roses fills your senses and the honks of swans disappear as you cross into the building.

Morpheus follows closely behind. The drizzle of rain seemingly bounces off his coat and hair leaving him dry like the Sahara. On the other hand, you, the poor human with no otherworldly affiliations, were soaked to the bone. Your light jacket and sundress stuck to your skin until it became itchy and you quickly take off your jacket to dry easier in the momentary shelter.

You miss the way Morpheus stares at your exposed shoulders and legs. His eyes run up and down your body, to the way the dress sticks to you like a second skin.

“Aphrodite loved Ares, unlike her vowed husband. But such is the game of gods.” Morpheus explains and peels his eyes away from you.

You lean on a large pillar that supports a large brazier, one of many others. The heat helps you warm up and the shivers slowly leave your body as it dries your clothes.

“So, Ares is… here?” You say without much confidence.

When the fates set you out on this quest to find your brother, you hadn’t even packed your lunch yet. They just threw you to the wind and then gave you Morpheus as a guide. As for him, it was so “He could get out of the house more” as his older sister has explained it to you.

So, here you were, soaked in summer rain and sharing conversation with Dream of the Endless on a quest to find your kidnapped brother - all of which happened since this morning. The everything bagel and cream cheese you had for breakfast sat uncomfortably in your stomach, the same stomach that was screaming at you to eat something as your journey had left you to skip the midday meal.

“Ares is behind this gate created by Aphrodite,” Dream sighs as if he were spelling out the obvious. “Yes, it is a possibility.”

You simply roll your eyes. For someone who is almost infinitely older than you, he certainly didn’t act like it. Feeling warmer and dry you started exploring the temple, running your fingers across the divots in the carved stone much like the climbing ivy that decorated the walls.

At the end of the temple stood a magnificent statue of Aphrodite herself, wrapped in cloth and her hair flowing in the wind. Beneath her pedestal, you could make out a rectangular outline made out of large roses.

“Hey! The door!” You exclaim in excitement. As much as you hate to admit it, Morpheus was right. He usually was right but you’d rather keep that comment to yourself, in case the ego inflates any more of his head and he drifts off. Which, would unfortunately leave you on your own to solve these puzzles.

Morpheus appears behind you, peering over your shoulder at the door.

“Seems like a hidden mechanism. It would be wise to not touc-”

You press your palm onto the center of the door and it gives away to the pressure of it.

“You fool!” Morpheus seethes out and you tense.

It seems like a trap, now that you think about it. With bated breath you wait, slowly inching yourself closer to Morpheus in hopes that the King of Dreams may be able to protect you if something were to go wrong.

Yet, nothing.

The door slides back into place, the sound of marble against marble scraping against each other in the otherwise completely quiet sanctuary. The quiet atmosphere stays peaceful for a few seconds but ends when a yelp escapes you when the roses suddenly go into full bloom, the petals giving a “floosh” right in your face, its sweet pollen dusting both of your bodies. You stare wide-eyed at it waiting for anything else to happen. When nothing did, you let out a sigh of relief and turn to Dream with a smile.

“See, nothing to worry about.” You shrug with your palms facing upwards. The two of you stare back as a golden engraving appears on the door.

“One from two, enter together.” You read out loud while trying to dust off the shimmering pollen, sneezing when some enter your nose instead.

Great, a riddle but nothing comes to your mind as you think. Morpheus glares at you still and his eyes drift down to the palm that touched the door.

“Your hand is glowing,” He states.

You look down at your open palm and panic. The skin is bright pink and as Morpheus has stated, glowing. You scream at your hand and shake it aggressively. When the glowing still doesn’t reside you scream again and face the palm towards Morpheus’ face and shake it aggressively to grab his attention.

“Enough,” He commands and grabs your wrist. The grip is stern but it doesn’t hurt and the warmth of his skin calms you down.

It is now that you realize that the skin doesn’t actually hurt. There’s no burning sensation or pins or needles, nothing. Morpheus takes a closer look at your hand and you can feel the exhale of his breath fanning your palm. It tickles and you try to pull away, but his grip doesn’t relent.

“What? Do you see something?” You ask, your other hand is clenched in on itself as a way of grounding yourself.

Morpheus doesn’t entertain you with an answer and instead brings his face closer. A sound that you didn’t know you could produce comes out from your throat as you feel the warm, slick feeling of his tongue on your palm.

“Wha..mm” Your words fall short and he licks again and a whimper leaves your lips. You look up at him, his eyes are closed as he inhales deeply.

He brings your hand to his cheek and leans into it. When you release your hand and he lets you, you see that your glowing mark has smeared to his cheek. You come in closer, nervous about marking the Endless but he stops you again. He peers at you, all silver gone from his eyes and instead blown pupils pull you deep into their voids.

His hands find themselves around your waist and you place your hands on his chest to stop him from invading any more of your space. It doesn’t and he advances still. His brooding act doesn’t help with voicing whatever he could possibly be thinking.

“Hey, what’s gotten into you,” You release a moan at the end when he presses his nose to the junction of your neck. The hot breath released from his mouth had your lower regions start to grow hot and slick.

When his tongue licks the length of your neck, your fingers grasp desperately at the lapels of his jacket, holding on tight as your knee buckle beneath you. Morpheus smelled like grass after a summer thunderstorm and he stood sturdy like an old oak tree.

You whisper his name and his grip tightens more, bruising and unforgiving.

He groans into your neck. “Aphrodisiac.”

Of course, Aphrodisiac, named after the goddess Aphrodite, the very goddess you are trying to please and solve her riddle. The thought crosses your mind momentarily but it is quickly cut short by Morpheus’ continued administration. The pink stain spreads further on Morpheus, anywhere and everywhere you touch him. Your cheek was pink as well, where he touched yours and markings of his tongue glowed pink as he continued his kisses down your neck and across your collarbone.

“Oh, gods,” You moan into his hair as he dives deeper towards your chest. Your body is turning hot and you can’t tell if it’s just the aphrodisiac or the way he is touching you. Perhaps it’s neither, perhaps it’s both. Either way, you can’t stop the sounds that escape your lips.

He presses forward and you step back until your back hits the pedestal and Morpheus’ large frame follows, trapping you between a rock and a harder place. You can feel his erection pressing against your stomach, hot and heavy and begging to be released.

With restraint, Morpheus pulls back and pants into your neck. Your own breath was ragged, your tongue felt heavy when you speak.

“Please,” You whisper, your hands travel down his chest, pink smearing along his black shirt, and cup his erection.

He looks at you now, eyes peering into your soul asking you if you really did want this. You nod, not trusting your voice for a second time.

“Say it,” He commands again, his forehead pressed against yours. “Say it,” He whispers in a plea.

You tip your head up and respond with the strength you have left. “Yes,” You murmur against his lips, barely brushing yours with his own.

He seals the deal with a kiss and hands once again go to your waist. He grabs you, hoisting you up and your legs immediately wrap themselves around his lean torso. You impatiently grind your heat into his as he dips his hands below your dress line and moves your undergarments to the side.

It was rushed, it was sloppy and it was nowhere near romantic, yet you’ve never felt so much excitement. No one was near but the peering gaze of the daunting Aphrodite statue made you feel exposed. Morpheus doesn’t bother to warm you up for him and the heat of his cock presses against your cunt. He pushes forward and it stings. Tears swell in your eyes at the intrusion, his cock splitting you open as he sets a rhythmic pace.

“Forgive me, forgive me,” He chants into your ear but the words fly in one ear and out the other. The pleasure the Dream Lord was giving you more important and present in your mind.

Your hand reaches into his hair and grabs onto his roots. A groan sings from his throat and you can’t help it when your lips connect to his Adam’s apple. You leave bruising kisses along his neck and continuously feel the vibrations of his moans, each one low and gritty.

Morpheus felt like he was about to lose his mind if he didn’t quickly finish the two of you off. His body felt like it was on fire and his head pounded in his skull with ideologies of fucking you until you were nothing but a pile of pleasure. When your nails grip his shoulders, he welcomes the pain and bites down on your collarbone to suppress his wanton moans.

You were too sweet for him, a type of innocence that he didn’t want to taint. Tears well up in his eyes as he realizes that he did it without him even knowing. The aphrodisiac completely consumes the two of you. He loved it, the feeling of your legs wrapped around his waist, your grip on his hair, your moans filling the space and echoing around the temple, but were not his to take.

“More, more, more,” You moan, head thrown back towards the ceiling and he couldn’t deny you the pleasure.

His thrusts become ferocious, slamming into you harder and harder until you were just a babbling mess in front of him. Your words range from his name to curses to simple pleas. The contractions of your cunt spasming around him make him falter for a moment but he presses on. When your orgasm reaches you, your scream is muffled by his open mouth kiss. His thrusts turn sloppy and uneven before he finishes as well and you feel the way his cock pulses within you. His semen drips out of your spent hole and mixes with your release on the polished marble floor.

Your body deflates as the orgasm finishes and you’re left panting and leaning on Morpheus as your thighs tremble around his waist. The door behind you opens with an ungodly scrapping sound and you look behind you. Lust was still evident in your eyes but you were pulled back to the real world again.

The aphrodisiac wore off and a blush rose high into your cheeks. You push against Morpheus’ chest not wanting to be in his space, asking him to put you down, but quickly realize that it was a bad idea when your knees buckle and you start to fall.

Morpheus grabs onto you to steady you and you murmur a thanks, too embarrassed to look at him in the eyes. The aphrodisiac has made you look at Morpheus in a different light, but there were more important matters at hand. You take one steady breath and readjust your underwear and dress, Morpheus releases his grip on your arms as you go to turn towards the open door.

Beyond the door is nothing but darkness with a slight wind blowing out towards you and the smell of metal and leather comes into your nose. Before you can go, Morpheus’ fingers wrap around your arm again.

“Should we… talk about it?” He asks in that low voice of his.

You look back at him, somehow finding the confidence to look at him in the eyes. You find that they are full of adoration and passion that it turns your eyes downwards again. You’ve heard the rumors of what it means to be the lover to Dream of the Endless. It is rainbows and butterflies, the world at the edge of your fingertips, but one wrong move, and you are cast away like you were less than nothing. You think of Nada, Queen of the First People, who is still condemned to Hell for declining his promise to make her queen of the Dreaming.

It’s too much, you have your brother to save, and there is no room to talk about love.

“Later,” You say instead. You still need his help and if the promise of ‘later’ keeps him around long enough until the end of your quest, then so be it.

“Very well. Later,” He repeats then follows you into the realm of Ares.

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This is going to be a 26 part series, all porn, no plot hehe ( ๑‾̀◡‾́)

Until the next fic,

♡ Yours, Layla

#the sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #morpheus x reader #dream x reader #the sandman fanfic #the sandman x reader #dream of the endless x reader #sandman x reader #morpheus smut #lord morpheus #morpheus x reader smut #the sandman x reader smut #dream x reader smut #sandman smut #sex pollen #aphrodisiac #no plot whatsoever #26 ways of taking you

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absurdthirst · 3 months

Text

Contracted Fling {Joel Miller x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 14.8k

Warnings: Secret affair, rough sex, oral sex (male and female receiving), semi-public sex, mentions of loss, miscommunication, fight, Joel being sexily violent, make up sex, morning after

Comments: Hired to renovate your parents house, Joel finds you irresistible. Engaging in an affair that turns complicated and scratches beneath both of your pasts.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Joel Miller MasterList ||

It’s not a bad gig. Not all things considered. The house isn’t in terrible shape, it just needs updating and homeowners aren’t the type to squabble if Joel uncovers some problem that will take more time and money to fix, they just want it to be done right. A true rarity in construction.

Then there’s you. He’s old enough to know better and you’re young enough to have moved back into your parent’s house one week after demolition had started. You are a bonafide distraction and trouble all wrapped up in a pretty little package. Right now, he’s moving the little box of your bathroom shit into the hallway to continue to tear the tile out. Trying not to look down into it and see what you use when the smell of your shampoo drives him crazy.

When you moved back in with your parents, you felt like a failure. Your ex boyfriend had cheated on you and you were living in his place. You refused to stay in his apartment a moment longer so you packed your things and left. Moving back home, you plan to save enough money to get your own place but for now, you’re happy to be home.

Especially when you’re greeted with the sight of Joel laboring around the house. He’s older, beard salt and pepper with streaks of gray through his hair. He’s unbelievably hot in a DILF kind of way, and you want him. It’s been a while since you had sex. Your ex hadn’t touched you and you wondered why until you found him balls deep in the colleague he said was ‘just a good friend.’

Joel is working on removing the tile in your bathroom, his brother downstairs is working on the tile in the kitchen, and you walk past the bathroom, eager to catch a sight of him. The way his plaid shirt stretches over his shoulders makes your mouth drool.

“How’s it going?” You ask him when he pauses his demolition, leaning against the doorframe in the short shorts you’ve taken to wearing around the house since he arrived.

Joel glances at your legs and then straightens, groaning slightly and reaching for his handkerchief to wipe the sweat off his face. “Should be done with the demo by tomorrow.” He tells you. “You can still use the bathroom tonight though.”

You cross your arms, biting your lip as you watch him roll his shoulders. “Cool. You and your brother seem to know what you’re doing. My parents made a good choice picking your company. You need some water? I’m heading downstairs to grab a coffee before I get back to work.” You’ve been working from your childhood bedroom, able to work remotely.

“Sure.” He won’t turn down water, especially enjoying the view when you turn around to walk to the stairs. “Thanks.” He calls after you, frowning slightly as he swears your ass shakes just a bit and his cock twitches. “She’s not interested in you.” He grunts to himself, listening to you bound down the stairs and call out a ‘hello’ to Tommy when you go into the kitchen.

You come back about five minutes later with your coffee cup and you hand him a bottle of water, your fingers brushing his as he takes it from you. You stand there, watching as he opens the bottle and tilts his head back to down half the bottle, his Adam’s apple moving. Your mouth falls open slightly and you swallow down the drool. God, he’s so hot and he doesn’t even know it. “I’ll be in my room if you need anything else.” You try to say as innocently as possible and you turn to walk out of the bathroom with your cup of coffee. You’ll keep pushing him, see if he breaks, and if he doesn’t, you know he doesn’t want you.

“Thanks.” He lifts the bottle and watches as you walk away again, hissing slightly under his breath. You have been prancing around the house in short shorts and tank tops with your tits on display, giving him a good fucking view of the body you have. It makes him want to bend you over the bathroom sink and fuck you, but it’s your house, you can wear what you want. He’s just a guest here.

****

It’s been two weeks since Joel and Tommy started working on your parent’s house and you have been frustrated by Joel’s presence. Every night, when the house is quiet, you rub your clit and imagine Joel taking you hard over the under construction kitchen counter. Today, his brother Tommy, is sick and it’s only Joel who is working on the kitchen floor. You work in your room until you decide to seek out a snack, making your way downstairs to the makeshift pantry. “Hey Joel. You want a snack?” You ask and you bend over to see what’s in the box your mom left in the corner.

Joel groans and grits his teeth together. “Yeah.” He grunts. “Whatcha got?” He knows what he wants to snack on. It’s right in front of him, bent over and all he has to do is just pull your shorts down and pull his cock out of his jeans. “Anything good?”

You rifle through the snacks and hold up a couple of options over your head. “Chips or cookies?” You offer and he says “chips.” You take the cookies and stand up, tossing the packet over to him. You lean against the dining table and watch him shove a chip into his mouth. “So…how’s the work coming along? Must be hard without your brother here to help today.”

Joel snorts, rolling his eyes playfully and shrugs. “Better, don’t have to listen to him whine about dealing with his pregnant wife.” He jokes. “Cravings and cramps and aches and pains.” He shoves his hand back into the bag. “Told him just to fuck her good when she’s complaining, but that might be why he’s expecting a kid.”

You wince slightly at the mention of his sister in-law being pregnant. A sensitive subject for you but Joel doesn’t know that. You chuckle after a second, fiddling with the bag in your hand. “Being a woman isn’t easy. Being pregnant, well that’s the hardest thing. Not that I- I don’t have kids. From what I’ve heard.” You explain, “you guys are doing a great job. My parents are already happy with your work. You’re good with your hands.” You compliment saucily, licking your lips of cookie crumbs after taking a bite.

Joel lifts a brow at your comment and stares at you for a moment. “I am good with my hands.” He agrees, staring at you in challenge, waiting to see what else will come out of that mouth of yours. Trying not to think about what he would like to put in that mouth. How you would react to that.

“What else are you good with?” You ask, biting your lip as you wait for his reply. He leans against the counter, crossing his arms and the chip packet is still in his hand.

“Lots of things.” Joel brags, smirking at you slightly. “What are you interested in?” He asks, setting the bag down on the counter and crossing one leg over the other at the ankles as he waits for you to answer.

You set the bag of cookies down on the kitchen table and brush off your hands, taking a step towards him. “Lots of things.” You hum, walking towards him, “not sure if you’re interested in using them on me but I sure have imagined it enough times.”

It’s an invitation, one that he hadn’t expected but he damn sure appreciated. He doesn’t move, just arching a brow at you as he licks his lips. “Take off your shirt.” He orders.

Your parents aren’t home. It’s only you and Joel. You can’t deny him when he looks at you with those dark brown eyes, his gaze burning into you. You reach down to grip the hem of your tank top and pull it over your head to expose your lace bra. You know he wants you to take that off too and you want to make the first move so you reach behind you to unclasp it, letting it drop down your arms to fall onto the floor he’s been working on.

He grunts, his cock twitching and hardening in his jeans. Finally uncrossing his ankles and standing straight as he steps closer to you. “You have pretty tits.” He compliments, palms itching to touch them. “Now I want to see your ass.”

How can you deny him? You reach down to unbutton your shorts, knowing he’s in total control. He could leave you high and dry and humiliated but the look in his eyes tells you he’s going to give you exactly what you want. You push your shorts down along with your panties and turn around as you kick them away. Looking over your shoulder at him, you smirk. “Like what you see, old man?”

You have a fucking gorgeous ass. He wants to slap it and he huffs as he pins you against the counter, newly installed by him. “Unbutton my pants and find out.” He orders.

Your stomach twists with anticipation and arousal and you reach down to unbutton his jeans, snaking your hand in to wrap your fingers around his cock. “Fucking hell.” You gasp in shock. He’s huge. Thick and throbbing in your hand. “Is that - I don’t know if that’s gonna fit, Miller.”

Joel chuckles quietly and smirks at you. “Don’t think it will, little girl?” You’re a grown ass woman, but your fingers tighten around his cock when he calls you that so he assumes you like it. “I think it will. I think you’ll take every inch and scream my name.”

You pull him out of his jeans and squeeze him, starting to slowly pump him as his hands cup your tits. “Big words. Big words I’m not sure you can fulfill.” You taunt him, licking your lips as you clench around nothing.

He huffs and reaches for your waist, pulling you up to shove you onto the counter and spread your thighs. “That right?” He grunts, squeezing your thigh before he slides his fingers to your core and finds you dripping wet. “I think it’ll be nice and slick.”

“Fuck.” You whimper when his fingers find your clit. “You wanna find out?” You ask breathlessly, grinding back against his hard cock. “Joel. I need- I want you to fuck me.”

The next moment, Joel’s too busy lining up and pushing inside your hot, tight cunt to even think about birth control. Groaning as he pushes deep, he doesn’t stop until he's bottomed out inside you and one hand slaps down on the new granite countertop.

Your gasp echoes in the kitchen, your eyes sliding shut as he stretches you out. “Holy shit.” You whisper, “oh my God. You’re - I think you’re in my guts.” You admit, unable to believe how he feels inside of you.

Joel growls, loving how tight you are squeezing him. “That’s the point, little girl.” He reminds you cockily. “To let you feel it.” He pulls back and then slams back into you.

Your head drops back, your mouth open in a silent moan as the delicious friction slams you into the counter. “I feel it. I - fuck - I feel it.” You pant, eyes opening as you turn your head to look at him, loving the way his dark eyes seem almost black with his desire for you.

He start to fuck you, quick hard thrusts that have you gasping his name while your hips bang against the counter. Reaching up to cup your tits and squeeze harshly before pinching your nipples.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” You hiss as he fucks you hard and fast. You cover his hands with yours as much as you can, making him squeeze your tits even harder. “Joel. Feels - better than I imagined.” You confess in a squeal when he kicks your ankle to spread you wider so he can push impossibly deeper.

“Gonna- fuck, gonna make you scream.” He huffs, nearly out of breath from how hard he’s fucking you but his hips don’t stutter and he doesn’t slow down. “Want to hear you scream.” He bites down on your ear and lets go of one of your tits to rub your clit.

Your hands slap down on the counter and when his calloused fingers find your clit. “Oh my - fuck!” You squeal, thighs starting to shake as he pounds into you, rubbing your bundle of nerves. You haven’t been fucked like this in - never. You’ve never been fucked like this. “Yes. Yes. Yes! I’m gonna - oh shit. You’re gonna make me cum.” You confess in a wheeze as he rasps in your ear, “that’s it, little girl. Want you to soak my cock.” You shudder and your palms slide on the counter, slick with sweat as he works your body higher. “I’m gonna - Joel!” You shriek as you cum, clamping down on his cock.

Joel growls again and the slap of his hips against your ass becomes even more frantic, fucking you through the high of your orgasm and chasing his own. Groaning filthily into your ear at how tight you grip him, making his hips stutter as you ride out the pleasure. “Gonna give me another?” He hisses in your ear, still rubbing your clit. “Gonna soak me again and scream. I know it, I can feel it.”

Most men would’ve already been pushing deep and spilling inside of you but Joel is still going. Your jaw is dropped and senseless moans of obedience fill the kitchen as you wordlessly promise him you’ll cum again. His hips press against your ass, no doubt leaving bruises from the brutal way your hips are hitting the quartz counter. His fingers rub your clit and he slaps it after a few seconds. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he continues to ruin you. “Gonna - yes. Again.” You gasp out, walls starting to flutter around his cock.

His back is killing him and his knees feel like they are turning to rubber, but he doesn’t stop. Addicted to the way your body splits open for his cock and your walls hug him close. “That’s it. Cum for me, you naughty little girl.” He groans. “Tightest little pussy I’ve ever fucked.”

His raspy words send you over the edge. “Oh fuck. Joel!” You sob his name out, loud enough for the neighbors to hear as he fucks you by the kitchen window. You clamp down on his cock, soaking him and your knees give out but he presses you against the counter while he frantically fucks into you. “Cum inside of me. It’s safe.” You promise breathlessly, slumping down to rest your upper body on the cool counter as he continues to ram into you.

Joel grunts, his body curling around you and he holds onto the counter as he pounds into you. Feeling his own orgasm getting closer with every thrust while you clench around him. “Fuck, fuck.” He growls into your ear. “Gonna fill you up.”

“Yes yes yes. Do it. Oh God. Fuck me. Fill me up.” You beg, wanting to hear him when he climaxes. You turn your head to look at him, his jaw clenched as he rocks into you. “Cum for me, baby.” You plead and that’s his undoing. He grunts as he cums, his cock twitching while he paints your walls with his hot seed.

Joel closes his eyes, his forehead pressed to the nap of your neck as he rocks his hips shallowly. Making sure every drop of his cum spurts inside of you until he is done. “Fuck.” He hisses, enjoying the wave of pure bliss that floods his body and he pants to catch his breath. “You good?” He asks after a moment.

You nod, trying to catch your own breath. “So good.” You confess, looking back at him when he lifts his head from your neck. “Didn’t expect that to happen today but I’m glad it did.” You giggle and caress his forearms as he clings to you.

He pulls out of you slowly, not wanting to hurt you. Rocking back and reluctantly letting you go so he can tuck himself back into his jeans. “Feel a lot lighter now.” He snorts, snagging a paper towel to wipe you up.

“Maybe you can focus on the floor instead of watching me walk around in these tiny shorts I had to dig out of my case to tempt you with.” You giggle, reaching for your panties after he tosses the paper towel. “Took you long enough to make a move, Miller.”

Joel snorts, “maybe, spent enough time thinking about bending you over the bathroom tub.”

You chuckle, grabbing your bra after pulling your tank top back on. “Mmm, now that sounds like a good time. You promise to do that?” You tease him, “but seriously, I want more sex if you want that. Nothing serious. Some fun and you’re - you’re the hottest man I’ve seen in a long time. I don’t want strings after what happened with my ex. I want to have fun. You up for that or is this a one time thing?” You gesture between you, wanting him to make a choice on if this happens again.

Joel contemplates your offer and shrugs. “Sounds like I would be a fucking idiot to turn down sex.” He folds his arms over his chest. “Especially with a woman as gorgeous as you are.” He’s not the best at paying compliments, but he likes the way you smile when he says that. You are gorgeous and you want him to fuck you, the least he can do is make you feel good.

You step closer to him, leaning in to kiss his jaw, “I gotta get back to work but I’ll see you later. This is gonna be fun.” You squeal as you step back and stride off to the stairs, making your way up to your room. Joel huffs, a smirk on his face as he shakes his head. You’re going to be trouble.

****

You bite your lip as Joel works on tiling your parent’s bathroom today. His shirt is off, leaving him in a tank top, a chain hanging from his neck, and you keep walking past to get a glimpse of him. “Stop starin’.” He orders and you lean against the door frame.

“Can’t help it when you’re teasing me all day with those arms of yours.” Your cross your arms, letting your eyes trail down his body as he stands to turn and face you. His brother is downstairs working on the half bath and you know he can’t hear you flirting with his older brother.

“You gonna let me fuck you on my lunch break?” Joel asks, smirking as he looks up from the mortar line he is laying. “Tommy’s running some errands so I’m gonna just stay here and eat my sandwich like a good boy.” He chuckles when your thighs press together on instinct.

You smirk, “yeah? You gonna have your cake and eat it too? You know Tommy won’t be gone for too long and I can’t be quiet so you gotta be quick to make me scream your name and cum before you finish your lunch.” You step into the bathroom and lean on the vanity, pushing your tits together so they meet his gaze when he looks up at you again. “You think you’re up for the challenge, old man?”

“I could make you cum on my tongue now, little girl.” He growls, eyes dropping to your tits. “Then just fill that little pussy with my cum while he’s gone.” Joel smirks at you with glee, “but I don’t know if you can be that quiet.”

You inhale sharply, “I could try. You could keep me quiet. Use your fingers or - or my panties.” You test him, wondering if he’s bold enough to do this while his brother is downstairs. “I can be good.”

Joel chuckles quietly and drops his trowel into the bucket and groans slightly as he climbs to his feet. “Hand me your panties then get up on the counter.” He orders, grabbing his rag to wipe his face. “And spread your legs.”

You giggle, glad you are wearing a dress today while pushing your panties down, handing them to him, and you shift to sit on the vanity he installed the other day, spreading your legs. He’s so hot, his muscles moving while he wears that tank top and his jeans tight around his thighs. He shifts to stand between your legs and you tilt your head to kiss his chin.

Joel pushes your dress up even more, pleased that you are so eager to give him what he wants. He tilts his head down to press his lips to yours briefly, not really kissing you a lot but you haven’t chased kisses either so he wonders if you dont really like it. Balling up your panties, he smirks as he holds them to your lips. “Open up, little girl. You can’t make too many noises while I eat your pussy.”

You eagerly open your mouth for him, wiggling on the cool surface as you impatiently wait for his next move after he pushes the lace into your mouth. It’s dry and you swallow around them, cheeks full of the material and your eyes meet his as his hands trail along your inner thighs, a whine of need is muffled by your underwear.

“So impatient.” He chides, pinching the inside of your thigh slightly and then soothing it with a small rub. “Now-“ he grunts as he kneels back down. “You need to be quiet.”

You watch him, eyes dark with lust as he leans in, his hot breath washing over your wet pussy. You’re always so turned on around him. You’ve never experienced this kind of attraction to someone before. You’re like a magnet to him. You whimper around the material when his tongue slides through your folds.

Joel doesn’t hesitate to lavish attention on your cunt, spreading your thighs apart with his hands you seem so obsessed with. Groaning at the first and second whimpers that you give him. You haven’t asked him for this, but he wants to, wants to have you cum for him. Loves making you cum and your thighs shake around his ears.

Your head tilts back to hit the wall where he hasn't installed the mirror yet. Your eyes closing as you arch your back so he can access more of you. You moan around the panties, his thumbs spreading your lips to suck on your clit.

Your thighs press his head and you roll your hips down, making Joel groan into your folds. You aren’t screaming yet, your moans are muffled by your panties and it’s thrilling. The door into the bathroom is still opened and your parents could come or Tommy could walk in at any moment. His eyes flicker up to watch your face as he sucks.

You couldn’t care less if someone sees you right now. His tongue is magic against your clit. Harsh but perfect as he sucks and licks. His fingers slide along your thighs, pushing your thighs back out to give him room to make you fall apart on his tongue.

He doesn’t rush you, keeping the rhythm of his tongue steady and he flicks his tongue against your hole before sucking on your clit again. Groaning quietly as he devours you.

You pant around the pace, your chest heaving as he works you higher. His tongue flicking and lapping then he sucks on your clit and your thighs start to shake around his head. His name is muffled as you moan it as you get closer and closer. When he pushes his tongue deep, curling it and his nose presses against your clit, you fall apart. Your cry is silenced but he knows you’ve fallen over the edge by the way your thighs squeeze his head.

He can feel the rapid pulse of your heart pumping blood through your veins and he loves it. Keeping his tongue curled up inside you, his curved nose pressed against your clit as he feels your arousal flood his tongue. Your thighs squeeze his head and he huffs slightly when your fingers grip his hair, not letting you push him away just yet.

You whine around your panties when it becomes too much, his tongue languidly swiping over your clit but you're too sensitive. Your hands finally succeed in pushing his head away and he smirks up at you, cocky because he made you fall apart under his tongue.

“Joel!” Joel can move fast when he needs to, lurching to his feed and out the door while you are still sprawled on the counter. Tommy pauses at the door to the master bedroom.

“Yeah?” He grumbles slightly. “Damn near thought you cut a finger off. What’re you yellin’ for?” Tommy snorts at the grumpy attitude of his older brother and shakes his head.

“I’m headed out, you sure you don’t wanna grab a burger?” He offers, making Joel shake his head.

“Nah, packed a lunch.” He smirks. “Even have dessert, ate that already though.”

You scramble off of the vanity, shoving your dress down and spitting out your panties to shove them in your bra. Your face is burning from nearly getting caught but your pussy is throbbing from arousal at the fact that his brother nearly caught you. Tommy stares at his brother, eyebrows raised at his shiny chin, but he doesn't say anything. He doesn't need to when his older brother stares at him as if to say 'don't you dare.'

Tommy holds up his hands and smirks slightly. “Alright..uh, you should finish up the tile in there today?” He asks, nodding to the bathroom.

“Yeah.” Joel nods and shoots daggers at his brother, wanting him to leave. “Have a good lunch.” He tells him pointedly.

Tommy shakes his head, a small chuckle escaping his lips. He isn't dumb. He's seen the way you and Joel look at each other and he doesn't care so long as your parents don't get pissed and blame the company for Joel fucking their daughter while doing the renovations. He's happy that Joel is finally getting some. It's been a couple of years since Tess died and he deserves some happiness after so long. Tommy leaves, purposefully slamming the door shut and you come out of the bathroom, "oh God. He knows, doesn't he?" You ask Joel, slightly mortified.

“Tommy’s not stupid.” Joel answers. “He won’t say anything.” He wonders if you would want to stop now, ashamed that someone other than you and him might know. He grins at you and glances down at the slight bulge under your shirt. “Still not wearing any panties?” He asks lecherously. “Do you want me to fuck you in the bathroom or bend you over mommy and daddy’s bed?” He’s half joking, but he would do it if you wanted.

You smirk, loving that he isn't put off by his brother knowing. "Oh God. I want - the bed. Want you inside of me. Want you to fill me up." You confess, knowing how wrong this is but your pussy is dripping as you stare at him, chest heaving.

“Lay down at the end of the bed.” Joel orders, reaching down to unbuckle his belt to unbutton his jeans. “Gonna put your legs up on my shoulders and fill your pussy with my cum right there on your parents bed like we’re fucking rebellious teenagers.” The fact that Joel’s not too much younger than your parents doesn’t matter, you make him feel younger.

You obey immediately, laying down on the bed and you shove your dress up to your waist. You watch him unbuckle his belt, his cock hard and aching as he pulls it out. You never get over the size of his length. “Fuck me, daddy.” You tease, spreading your legs for him.

“Fuck, do you want me to stay hard?” He huffs, pumping his cock in his hand and rolling his eyes at you. You giggle, not remorseful in the least and he shuffles forward. “I’m going to make you scream now that we are alone.” He warns with a smirk.

You moan when he slides his cock through your folds. “Please.” You whimper, your stomach clenching as you look up at him. “Want you to make me scream.” You demand, your hands caressing his forearms. He notches his cock at your entrance and grabs your wrists, lifting them over your head to press them into the mattress as he pushes into you.

“So goddamn tight.” He hisses. “Best little pussy I’ve ever fucked.”

You love his compliments. He’s not a man of many words but fuck, he’s so sexy. Your feet are behind his head as he lifts your calves onto his shoulders, practically folding you in two as you take his cock. “Oh my God. I think you’re in my throat this time.” You pant, closing your eyes.

“Good.” He huffs, rocking his hips forward sharply as he moves your legs up from his waist to his shoulders. Leaning forward, he braces his hands on the bed, flashing a smirk before he starts to destroy your pussy.

You moan when he starts to move, pushing deep and hard. “Yes yes yes!” You squeal, your head tilting back and you close your eyes.

“Look at me.” He demands, “fucking - keep your eyes open.” Your eyes flutter open and you look at him above you, his jaw clenched as he rocks into you. He stares down at you, his jaw clenched as he fucks you hard enough to shake the bed, the headboard starting to bang against the wall. “Fuck, dirty little slut.” He grunts. “So desperate for my cock you’re letting me fuck you on your parents bed.”

“Yes. Your - your slut. Oh God. Your cock. Only your cock drives me to do this.” You cry out, “so good. You - you fill me up so well.” You moan as he grinds deep into you. “Joel. So - so fucking good.” You cry as he fucks you hard and fast.

He can feel how close you are, bending down even more so he can press his lips to yours and the short hair above his cock grinds against your clit. “Cum.” He demands breathlessly. “Want you to cum.”

You practically wail, your eyes closing as you fall apart. “Oh my - Joel! Joel! Joel!” You squeal as you clamp down on his cock, soaking him with your cum.

Joel groans, eyes rolling back as you pack down around him. Having to really thrust his hips to move as he tries to work you through. “Fuck!” He yells, grabbing your thighs and straightening up as he continues to drill into you.

You watch him, your body pushed up the bed. “Come on. Cum for me, baby. Wanna feel it. Wanna feel you spill inside of me. Come on.” You egg him on, clenching around him as he drills into you until he stutters, his cock throbbing as he fills you up. “That’s it. Oh shit. Never gets old. Love watching you cum.”

Joel grunts and groans as he finally stops cumming. Panting and his work rough hands caress your legs. “Fucking love cumming in you.” He watches as he pulls out, spreading your thighs to watch his cum start to push out of your cunt. “That is a pretty sight.”

You giggle as he watches your pussy for a moment until he lets your legs down from his shoulders. “You wanna have your lunch?” You ask, knowing he’s gotta be hungry after that and he does need a lunch break. He nods and you gingerly shift off of the bed, “I’ll tidy up. Go eat.” You demand, rubbing his shoulder.

Joel tucks himself away and goes downstairs to where his lunch box is sitting in the kitchen. He really had packed a lunch because of Tommy and he opens it quickly. He knows that Tommy won’t say a word, but he will give him shit for taking too long on the lunch break.

****

You bite your lip as you watch Joel work, his shoulders moving with each motion of the brush while he paints the wall. He senses your presence and turns to look at you. Tommy is on a coffee run and your parents are out. "Hey trouble." He smirks at you and you step closer to him.

"Hey handsome." You don't mess around, knowing you don't have a lot of time so you squeeze him through his pants.

“What are you doing?” He hisses, glancing around the room as if someone could walk in at any second. You laugh, making him glare at you and you squeeze him again.

“I want to suck your cock.” You tell him, making him hiss again, this time his hardening cock jump against your palm. You smirk as he twitches under your touch. “No one is here. Just us.” You reassure him, your fingers sliding up to unbuckle his belt. Your nimble fingers unbutton his jeans and you reach in to pull out his half hard cock. “Wanna taste you.” You murmur as you shift to kneel down in front of him, paint splattered on his pants.

“Fuck.” Joel groans, looking down to find you watching him under your lashes while your tongue slides along the growing length of his cock. He’s never had someone blow him in their parents kitchen, and he’s not going to turn you down when you are so eager for it.

You kiss along his length as you feel him harden against your lips. His hands gripping the kitchen counter as he watches you. You moan when you wrap your lips around the head, loving the spurt of pre-cum hitting your tongue. Salty and all Joel. You can’t seem to get enough of him.

It’s fucking incredible, your mouth is hot and wet, tongue eagerly sliding against his shaft. You fucking take him deeper and the first groan bubbles out of his throat. Making you smirk, stretching your lips around him.

He hisses your name and you brace your hands on his thighs. The denim is rough under your palms and you keep your eyes on him. Your moan vibrates up his cock as you take him even deeper, your pussy throbbing at the groan that escapes his lips.

His hips push forward sharply, during his cock even deeper into your mouth. Making you gag as he grabs the back of your head and takes over. Holding you still while he thrusts into your mouth, loving how your hands grab at his hips and your throat contracts around him.

You let him use your mouth, the groans escaping his mouth combined with the grunts make you slide your hand into your shorts to rub your clit. Letting him hold your head and your eyes water as you allow him to use you.

“So fucking good.” He groans. “Don’t know what’s better, your pussy or your mouth.” He catches sight of your hand in your shorts and moans. “That’s right, play with your pussy while I fuck your throat, little girl.”

You moan around him again, choking a second later when he pushes deeper, the curls at the base of his cock brushing your nose, and you rub your clit a little faster. His hands still grip your head, using you and rocking his hips a little faster.

Even as often as Joel is getting sex, he’s still working himself close to cumming quickly. Your mouth is perfect, the pressure around his length too much for him to be able to stand for too long. “Gonna cum down your throat.” He promises. “Fill- fuck- you up.” His hips stutter and his stomach lurches. “Fuck- gonna-“ he chokes out a groan as his cock pushed deep down your throat and starts to throb.

Joel grunts as you swallow around him one more time, spent now the last spurts have been swallowed. His hand softens on your cheek and he stops rocking his hips, eyes looking at your own watery ones.

You let his softening cock drop from your mouth as he caresses your cheek and you offer him a soft smile, enjoying how relaxed he looks right now. “Fuck baby. So- you look so good.” You murmur, throat a little sore, “not stressed.”

He chuckles softly, smirking at you slightly. “Hard to be stressed when I just came.” He rubs his thumb over your lips. “How are you, little girl? You need to cum? Want me to rub your little clit?”

You nod, shifting to stand on shaky legs. He helps you up after tucking his cock away and spins you to press your against the counter where he was standing. “Joel.” You whimper when his hands squeeze your tits. “I want to cum.”

His hand slides down from your shoulder to your tit, squeezing it and then gliding down to your stomach. Hitting your shorts and diving under the elastic waistband, and groaning when he finds you’re not wearing any underwear. “Fuck baby.” He groans. “You’re always ready to take me. Ain’t ya?”

You nod, mouth falling open as his fingers find your clit. He’s been the best part of returning home. Working from your childhood bedroom has allowed you to run riot with Joel over your parents’ house and it’s been amazing.

“Thaaaat’s it.” He coos, smirking smugly at the way your body jerks and pulls taunt as he rubs. Knowing that he’s touching you exactly like you need to be touched. “Such a good girl for me. Doing so good. I know you want to cum.”

“Need to - God. Need to cum.” You pant, head tilting back as his calloused fingertips rub your clit expertly. He knows your body inside out by now. “Joel, baby. Shit. Know just what I need.”

He knows that you are just praising him because he’s giving you pleasure. He hums and presses his lips to the bottom of your ear. “You’re doing so good for me.”

You moan, “need - fingers inside of me.” You plead and he nods, shifting his hand further into your shorts so he can push two thick digits inside of your dripping pussy. “Yesss.” You cry, gripping his shirt as he pushes you into the counter.

He doesn’t stop, curling and pumping his fingers deep inside your cunt. Pressing you close and pushing his thigh between your legs to keep them splayed open. “Come on baby, soak my fingers.”

You pant, fingers curling in his shirt as he pushes you higher and higher. “Oh God. I -fuck Joel. Joel baby. I’m gonna - shit. Shit. Shit.” You cry out, clamping down on his digits as he sends you over the edge. His thumb pressed against your clit and you slump against him while your thighs shake against his knee.

Joel watched you closely, enjoying the way your entire body reacts to your pleasure and he hums softly. “That’s it. You just melt against me.”

You inhale deeply, leaning in to breathe him in. Your lips press against his neck, “so good.” You murmur as he withdraws his hand from your shorts just as the front door opens. Joel steps away from you immediately and your parents walk in. “Hey Joel. How’s it going?” Your dad asks and you exhale shakily, stepping over to the fridge Joel installed the day before.

“It’s going good.” Joel acknowledges, sliding his hands into his pockets and leaning back like he just hadn’t had his fingers buried in the other man’s daughter. “We should be finished up right on schedule. Just finishing the tile and trim and she’ll be done.” He glances around and the completely redone kitchen.

You are disappointed that Joel will be done sooner rather than later. You’ve had weeks of sex and you’re not sure what you’re going to do when he’s done. Luckily, he still has the bathrooms to finish along with the laundry room and the flooring in the bedrooms. “He’s done a good job so far.” You comment and your mom smiles, agreeing. “We are having a BBQ tomorrow with the neighbors. Weather is perfect and we wondered if you and Tommy wanna join us?” Your dad asks the older Miller brother.

“I- uh, yeah, sure.” Joel doesn’t often socialize with his clients, but he also doesn’t normally bang their daughters either. He bites his lip and shrugs. “What can I bring? I don’t know if I would trust something I cooked, but I can bring cups, beer, whatever you need.”

Your dad nods, “beer would be awesome. Just bring you and Tommy can bring Maria. Want to thank you guys for doing such an amazing job so far.” He says and reaches out to slap Joel on his upper arm. Your lover nods, his dark eyes glancing at you and you offer him a soft smile, wanting to let him know you want him to come to the cookout.

****

You see Joel across the lawn, sipping a beer and talking to Tommy and his wife, Maria. The entire street is here for the cookout and you sip your vodka seltzer while Darlene from two doors down talks to you about her lawyer son who would be ‘just perfect for you.’ “He sounds perfect for Sally’s daughter.” You point to the other woman who is talking to your mom and you make your way across the lawn to the Miller family. “Hey guys. Everyone is amazed by the kitchen and half bath. My parents have given your number out to nearly everyone here so you should be busy for the rest of the year.” You grin, shifting in your short sundress.

“Good.” Tommy looks very pleased by the prospect and rubs Maria’s back. “This is my wife, Maria.” He boasts. “And soon to be the next Miller.”

Joel’s lips press together but he relaxes his jaw so it’s not obvious he’s uncomfortable. “That’s good.” He nods, holding up a case of beer in each hand. He has splurged on the good stuff since he didn’t think your dad drank PBR. “Where do you want these?”

You greet Maria, “I’ve heard a lot about you. All good things.” You promise, offering her a smile and she says “I’ve heard a lot about you too.” Her eyes look at Joel and he avoids his sister in law. “You can put them on the bar.” You tell Joel, escorting him over to the table full of buckets of ice and various drinks.

“Thanks.” He puts the beers down on the bar and turns towards you. “So…what now?” He asks. “I talk to all his friends about remodeling their bathrooms?” He chuckles quietly.

“That or…we could find somewhere private and you could show me how you manage to get your grout lines so straight?” You smirk, biting your lip and you glance around to make sure no one is watching you. “Unless you’d prefer I leave you with the neighborhood watch mom group over there?” You flick your eyes over to the gaggle of middle aged women who are not so discreetly eying Joel.

“Fuck no.” Joel snorts, looking over at the group of women and then shooting you an annoyed look. He doesn’t want to be fending off those vultures all night. “Where do you want to go?” He asks, wiping his hands on his jeans and feeling a little out of place even though he had showered and even trimmed up his facial hair for tonight. His jeans aren’t ripped or paint stained and his flannel shirt is practically new.

You trail your eyes along his figure, stomach twisting at how good he looks tonight. He smells good too. “I have a treehouse. Used to go in it when I was a kid. You want to join me in there? I might want to upgrade the flooring.” You tease, grabbing your drink and spinning around, you glance over your shoulder at him as you make your way through the yard to the treehouse.

Joel grabs a beer, ignoring the women who are staring after him and follows you outside. There’s enough people here that most of them are talking and not paying any attention when you disappear around the back of a tree and Joel reaches the base just in time to catch a glimpse of your bare ass as you climb. “Fuckin’ too old for this shit.” He grunts quietly, shoving his beer into his pocket and climbing up after you.

You giggle as he climbs up, “come on Miller. Where’s your sense of adventure?” You ask him as you step up onto the treehouse your grandfather built years ago. He was like Joel. Handy and an excellent craftsman. Your dad didn’t inherit the gift. “Gone when I turned 50.” He groans as he steps into the treehouse. It’s not creaking when he shifts his weight and he hums, impressed with the structure. You sit down on the beanbag, holding your drink up. “You look good for your age.” You hum, taking a sip.

He rolls his eyes and huffs as he sits down, knees creaking slightly. “For my age, huh?” He pulls the beer out of his pocket and opens the can. “To aging gracefully.” He toasts, holding the can up and then taking a sip of the cold brew.

You smile, watching him in your childhood treehouse is a bizarre experience but you love it. “You do look really good tonight.” You compliment him, “I like the clean look a lot. I do think I like the dirty look more, though. Rugged, sexy, capable.” You flirt, “and you can still get it up.” You tease, “most of the time.” You joke about the time he was about to fuck you and your parents’ old fashioned house phone voice sounded out their voicemail. Your dad telling you to take the chicken out of the freezer. He went soft as soon as he heard your dad.

“Can’t believe you still hold that against me.” He snorts. “Been thirty fuckin’ years since I’ve been worried about somebody’s daddy walkin’ in.” He grunts, staring at the way your thighs spread teasingly. His cock twitches in his jeans and like every time he’s around you, he starts to harden. “So did you bring me up here to fuck?” He asks. “Or just get away from everyone?”

“Both.” You tilt your head, “I don’t - I have to confess, I’ve never been so sexually attracted to anyone. I want you. All the time. Like I even touch myself thinking about you at night.” You know you’re giving him all the cards but you mean what you say. “So…we can talk since I saved you from the neighborhood ladies flirting with you and the husbands asking for your advice on their latest DIY project…or we can fuck and you gotta keep me quiet since they could definitely hear us up here.”

“How wet are you?” Joel asks, eyeing the exposed skin as your thighs spread again. You’ve talked between flirting and fucking, but the idea of you walking around the party dripping his cum is one he really likes.

You bite your lip and lift your dress higher, spreading your legs to expose your wet folds to his dark gaze. “Soaking wet for you. Ever since you walked into the party.” You confess, sliding your hand down to rub your clit.

“Spread your lips apart.” Joel orders quietly. “Rub slower.” He twitches in his jeans and reaches down to palm himself as he watches you touch yourself. You’ve not really had time for more than frantically rushed fucking, so now he can watch you. See what you like to do to yourself when you’re thinking about him.

You set your drink down and reach down with your other hand, spreading your lips to show him your puffy clit. Your eyes on him as you slowly rub the bundle of nerves and he squeezes his cock through his jeans. You like the way he’s ordering you.

“That’s good, just like that.” He grunts. “Slide your fingers through your slick and then rub your clit again. Gotta make sure you’re nice and wet. But you’re always so fucking wet.” He unbuttons his jeans and reveals that he’s not wearing any underwear, pulling out his cock and then spitting in his hand to wrap around it and pump slowly.

You whimper, mouth almost watering when you see this thick cock in his hand. You follow his order, sliding your fingers down to gather up your slick and you bring it back to your clit, rubbing it a little faster. “Always wet around you. Just looking at you gets me wet. Especially - shit - especially when you strip your shirt off or wear your tank top.”

“Like that, huh?” He grunts and rocks his hips up, working himself into his fist. “You enjoy being fucked. That pretty pussy needs to be fucked as often as possible.”

You whine slightly as he pumps his cock a little faster. “Joel. Please. Let me - let me sit on your cock. Wanna feel you inside of me. Want you to cum inside of me.” You beg pathetically, pulling your hand away from your clit.

“What are you waiting for?” He demands, still pumping himself. “You want to ride, you have to come to me.” You’ve never ridden him before but he wants to see your tits bounce in his face. “Pull out your other tit and come sit on my cock.”

You pull down the straps of your dress, exposing your tits and you shift out of the bean bag, straddling his thighs and he holds his cock up so you can sink down on him. “Fuckkk.” You whimper, eyes fluttering closed as he stretches you out.

“Shhhh shhhh.” He covers your mouth with his hand, the other behind your neck to hold you firm while he bottoms out in your aching pussy. “Silent.” He whispers, knowing that no one at the party can hear, but you will get loud if he doesn’t warn you. Breathing against his fingers, he groans quietly when your pussy flutters. “You like that, huh?” He grunts. “Holding your mouth closed while you ride my cock? Is that how to keep you quiet?”

Your hands grip his wrist, eyes wide as you nod. You want him to keep you quiet. His cock twitches inside of you and you whimper against his palm. “Shhhh.” He coos, “ride me.” He demands softly and you nod, lifting your thighs to pull up off of his cock nearly all the way. You sink back down onto him.

He watches you, feeling the shuddered breaths against his palm, warming it. Thinking that you are fucking gorgeous and too good for him as you grind back down into his lap. Wanting him as deep as possible while you lean back to find the perfect angle for his cock inside you. “Good girl.” He praises, voice low. “Make yourself cum.”

You love his voice. Deep and gruff. His orders have you fluttering around his cock already. Knowing that anyone at the party could figure out that you are together, up here, having sex. Your nails dig into his forearm slightly and you rock a little faster, your thighs aching but you don’t care. You want to cum and you want him to follow you.

Joel’s hips stay down, letting you have complete control of the ride, although he pulls you up straighter by your head. Just enough for him to duck down and wrap his lips around one of your nipples. Biting it before sucking it onto his mouth and lavishing attention on it.

You cry into his palm, muffled as he bites down on your nipple and you tangle your fingers in his hair as you ride him a little faster. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you find the right angle for the head of his cock to rub against your g-spot.

Joel grunts, sucking and biting on your breast while you gallop on his cock. Loving how your moans are muffled by his hand and his cock twitches. He loves how you demand pleasure and are willing to take it for yourself.

You moan into his palm, so close to your orgasm. He switches to your other nipple and it sends you over the edge. You clamp down on his cock, soaking him and your cry threatens to bubble past his palm but he presses his hand harder against your mouth to smother your cry. His groan is soft against your breast as you grip him and you shake above him.

Your hands slide down from his hair to his shoulders, caressing his upper back as he paints your walls with his cum. His hand drops from your mouth as he grips your waist and you rest your head on top of his. “So good, baby. So fucking good.” You gasp, “can’t get enough of you.”

Joel chuckles quietly as you both ride out your orgasms, panting softly. “I can tell.” He teases quietly, running his hand down your spine. “Good baby?”

You nod against his head, “so good. Fuck, Joel. Wish you could stay inside of me alllll the time.” You tease, running your fingers through his salt and pepper locks. “I am gonna be dripping your cum at this party.”

“I know.” He smirks at you and waggles his brows. “I’ve thought about that before you ever even climbed in my lap.” He pats your hip lightly, leaning back and sighing, relaxed and loose now. He picks up his beer and takes a swallow, his cock softening inside you.

You watch him, your gaze softening until you clear your throat and shift off of his lap. You grab your own drink after you pull your dress into place, sitting down in the bean bag. Joel is quiet as he sips his beer and you shift in the bean bag. “I’m gonna head down, clean up. Come down whenever you’re ready. It’s better that we are seen separately.” You murmur, groaning as you stand up and his cum starts to drip down your thigh. You wink at him as you climb down the ladder and make your way into the house to clean up. When you come out of the bathroom, you are grabbing a snack in the kitchen when your mom approaches you. “Sweetheart, we - your dad and I wanted to talk to you. We noticed you and Joel go up to your treehouse and we - we’ve seen the way you look at him. You’re an adult and after what that asshole did to you, you deserve to have some fun but honey…Joel is complicated.” You open your mouth to respond but she shakes her head, “you don’t know his past. You’ve been away from home for a long time and we - your dad knew Joel from his coworkers. Joel lost his daughter. She was thirteen. He lost her and his wife - she left him when his daughter was two. He’s got a lot of baggage and I’m worried that he will hurt you because he doesn’t want to - he’s not the dating kind.” She explains and your jaw clenches.

“Mom, I don’t want to date him. We are having fun. Please…I know I have kept this for you. Been doing this under your roof and I’m sorry for that but I’m not sorry about Joel. He’s fun and I- I deserve to have some fun. I’m not marrying the guy.” You scoff, crossing your arms. She nods and grabs her wine glass, neither of you aware that Tommy was lingering in the hallway.

Tommy finds Joel nursing a beer and listening to one of your father’s neighbors talk about the bathroom that he wanted to remodel. Obviously wanting a quote, sight unseen. “Hey, can I talk to you for a second?” Tommy asks Joel, nodding in apology to the potential customer. Once he gets him alone, Tommy shuffles nervously. “So I heard something…..”

Joel clenches his jaw as Tommy relays the conversation that he had heard between you and your mother. “Right.” He spits after a moment, glancing over at you and then back at his brother. “Think I’m going to call it a night.” He decides.

You frown when you don’t see Joel anymore and you ask Tommy where he went. The younger Miller brother is a little cold towards you and tells you his brother went home, decided to call it a night. You nod and thank him and Maria for coming when he tells you they are leaving. You’re confused Joel didn’t say goodbye but you suppose that’s his MO.

****

The next day, Joel is back working in the house and you glance around to see where Tommy is before you waltz over to him, a smile on your face. “Hey handsome. Working in my bedroom today?” You ask, “I need some help moving the bed.”

Joel looks up at you for a brief moment and then back down at his tools. “Tommy and I will move it. I’d prefer it if you weren’t in the room.” He tells you. “Liability.” He doesn’t look back up and doesn’t say another word while you are standing there waiting for him to take you up on your obvious overture.

Your smile falls, his gaze turning back to his tools and you deflate. “Oh, uh, okay. Sure. I can take my work to the living room.” You step back, wondering if he’s had a bad morning. You leave the hallway without another word and grab your laptop, heading downstairs to work. Later that afternoon, Tommy is out getting their lunch and you walk into your bedroom to find Joel working on ripping up the old carpet. “You need a drink?” You hold out the bottle of water, “figured you could use a break while you wait for Tommy to get back.” You bend over so he can look down your shirt at your tits.

“I’m good.” He doesn’t look up, not wanting to see your tits or your legs on display. “Have a bottle over there.” He doesn’t even stop working and just nods his head towards his tool bag. “Be finished by tomorrow.” His words are short and clipped.

There’s definitely something wrong. You frown and huff, standing up straight and you don’t leave right away. You uncap the bottle and tilt your head back, chugging half the water. With a dramatic sigh of satisfaction, you spin on your heel and leave the room.

Joel continues working but he sighs, hating that he had ever thought that you would want him. He was stupid, he had started to care about you. Way too much, it was better to just keep things professional between you. He was the contractor, nothing more.

****

A couple of days pass by and you ignore Joel and Tommy’s presence in the house, deciding to work at some coffee shops instead, but today is a gorgeous day. The sun is shining, you don’t need to work, so you decide to sit in the sun and have a drink. You walk into the kitchen where Joel is sitting, looking over his materials, and you open the fridge to grab a drink while dressed in the smallest bikini you own. Just because he’s ignoring you doesn’t mean he won’t notice you. Maybe he’s in a bad mood. You’d forgive him if he touched you again.

The muscles in Joel’s jaws have been getting a workout. Clenching every time you walk into a room half naked and primping around. He knows what you are doing and it’s starting to piss him off. He's ached for days, having to go home and jerk off after work every night like he’s a teenager again. “Need to put some fucking clothes on.” He grumbles under his breath.

You turn your head to look at him, “did you say something?” He shakes his head and you hum, taking your drink outside to the sun loungers your parents had bought for the summer. You sigh as you lay down in view on the kitchen window. Taking off your top to sunbathe.

It takes him about fifteen minutes to notice you. Hissing in anger when he sees your tits on display. He grabs one of his work rags and stalks outside angrily. “Cover yourself up.” He growls, tossing the rag over your chest. “My fucking brother doesn’t want to see your tits and his wife certainly doesn’t want him to.”

You glare at him from behind your sunglasses. “Your brother isn’t here, asshole.” You toss the rag back at him. “It’s my day off. I wanted to relax and you are interrupting that.” You hiss at him, “and it’s not like you haven’t seen it all before.”

“Fuck this.” He growls. “I’m done for the day.” He’s pissed off and needs to get away from you.

You huff, grabbing the rag back. “You don’t need to leave. I’ll go inside. If you leave, you’ll need more time to finish your work and I don’t want you staying longer than necessary. You might as well stay and I’ll go inside. Give you a break from my tits.” You growl, shifting to stand up from the lounger.

“I’m just the help, right?” He scoffs. “Someone to use and have fun with?” Hearing what you had said hurt because Tommy had said you had seemed appalled that your mother figured it out. “So I think it’s best that I keep things professional. So there’s no confusion. Not like you’d want people to know you were getting fucked by the carpenter.” He shakes his head. “I’ll have Tommy finish up this job.”

“I- I didn’t - you heard my conversation with my mom? I was - I was trying to save your ass. It’s not exactly professional to sleep with your client's daughter. I- it was fun. Until you decided to be an asshole. I figured you wanted to keep it casual and I want to know more about you but we don’t exactly have time to sit down and tell our life story.”

“Tommy heard you.” He corrects, wondering if you’re just trying to cover your ass or if you were trying to protect him. He waits for a moment, biting his lip. “If you want to know about me, I’ll be at Bill & Frank’s tonight.” He tells you, planning on going to the dive bar that Frank has tried to make a little more classy. “Up to you.”

You nod, knowing it’s best to not push him anymore right now. You grab your bikini top and head inside, deciding to leave him be and meet him later. You head back inside and you don’t look back, figuring that he’d want to be left alone.

****

You brush your dress down, looking up at the crooked sign for Bill and Frank’s and you inhale deeply. Reaching for the door, you head inside and it’s a weird mix of old fashioned saloon and an afternoon tea shop. Lace doilies on the tables with small lamps and worn coasters. The artwork on the wall says “eighty year old woman” while the floor is sticky.

“Well that doesn’t walk in here often.” Bill grunts, looking at the door with an almost annoyed glare, which was normal for the cantankerous bar owner. “Trouble if I’ve ever seen.”

Joel looks over his shoulder to see you and snorts. “Surprised you noticed.” He huffs at the other man, smirking slightly when the bearded man shifts his glare to him. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Frank.” He’s sort of friends with Bill and Frank, the proprietors of the little bar. Or it’s better to say, Tess was really good friends with Frank, so Bill and Joel had tolerated each other. After Tess had died, Joel had found himself still coming back.

You spot Joel at the bar and make your way over. He turns to look at you, “hey.” He grunts and you offer him a soft smile as he pulls the bar stool out next to him for you to sit down. He slides the shot he had sitting in front of him over to you and you don’t hesitate to tilt your head back as you down it. Bill snorts, wiping down the counter, “what can I get you?” He asks and you order a beer. “I didn’t know if you’d be here. You didn’t give me a time.”

“Sorry.” He grunts, lifting his beer to his lips and takes a sip. “Figured you’d come and I’d be here.” Bill chuckles as he wipes down the bar with a rag, smirking slightly at the sight of Joel and another woman. “You on a date, Miller?” He cackles.

“Joel is working on my parents’ house.” You explain and Bill snorts, “this is the hussy that’s got you running around in circles?” He asks and your eyebrows raise. Joel shakes his head, “go get her drink and get Frank out here if you can’t be nice.” He orders and you huff, “been talking me up, huh?” Joel shrugs and you sigh, “I suppose I deserve that. I haven’t exactly treated you fairly. It wasn’t just fun for me. I wanted more.” You admit softly, looking down at the counter.

Joel snorts as Bill walks away and cuts you a look before he takes another sip of his beer. “I’m old, little girl.” He reminds you. “You’re a hell of a lot younger, wanting things I can’t give you. Like kids and shit.”

You tap your fingers on the counter, closing your eyes for a second. “We never had a discussion about birth control other than me telling you it was taken care of. The truth is…my ex cheated on me.” You take a deep breath, “he cheated on me because I found out I’m infertile. We tried for a year. Figured we would do the tests when we discovered that I can’t - I have PCOS and it was bad. They did some tests and scans and I had to have my ovaries removed then he - he cheated on me. She’s pregnant. That’s why I moved home. I was in his house and I was sure he was going to propose since he seemed to accept that we wouldn’t have biological kids but he - he cheated and I moved home. So to answer your question, I can’t have kids.”

“What a fucker.” He growls, angry on your behalf. “That’s a shit thing to do.” He will never understand someone’s need to cheat. Those people are complete scumbags in his eyes and he’s done a lot of shit he’s regretted. “I’m sorry, you deserve better than that douche bag. It doesn’t matter if you can’t give him kids.”

You nod, “it did to him. I’m glad I found out what he’s really like. Better to happen like that instead of when we have had adopted two kids and I’m stuck with him.” You confess just as another man comes over to set your beer down along with another for Joel. The man, you assume he is Frank, says your name. “Right? The pretty girl you’ve been telling us about. She’s as beautiful as you described, Joel.” Frank says and you fluster, looking at Joel who is busy studying the grain of wood on the counter. “There’s a condom machine in the bathroom.” Frank winks as he walks off to serve another patron.

“Jesus Christ.” Joel hisses under his breath, squirming slightly in his seat in embarrassment. “Gonna stop fucking coming here.” He gripes even as he picks up his new beer.

You giggle softly, “he heard all the details, huh?” You tease and you nudge him gently. “It’s fine. I didn’t know you cared so much, Miller.” You take a sip of your beer and glance around the bar, feeling someone’s eyes on you. A man, younger than Joel but shorter, is staring at you and you offer him a nod before you turn back to the counter.

Joel glances around and doesn’t really think anything of the people in the bar. Plenty of people are flirting and having a good time. Frank is down the bar waiting on another couple and he wonders if you want to get some food.

Frank sets another round of drinks down in front of you after he serves the couple down the bar. “On the house. It’s been a while since I saw Joel smile. Especially not since Tess died.” He says and you frown, turning to look at Joel.

He owes you an explanation. “Tess was my- we were-“ he fumbles for the proper way to describe his relationship with Tess. The ache was still there, deep inside him just like when he lost Sarah. “She was mine.” He finally settled on just that. “She died. Two years ago.”

You can see the pain in his eyes, losing someone else that he loved. Your dad told you more about Joel losing his daughter, Sarah, to a gunman in a gas station robbery that went wrong. Your heart aches for him. You reach for his hand, “I’m so sorry, Joel.” You murmur, knowing that there’s nothing else you could say.

Sorries always make Joel uncomfortable. It can’t change the past or bring back Sarah, or Tess. “Thanks.” He mumbles and drains the rest of his first beer. “I need to piss.” He tells you as he stands. “Be right back.”

You nod, watching him go. You take a sip of your beer and sense a presence beside you as soon as Joel disappears. “Hey baby. You done babysitting the old man? Wanna have some real fun?” He asks and you scoff, “he’s not old.”

The guy leans against the counter next to you. “Bet he needs viagra to get it up.” He scoffs and you snort, “that ‘old man’ can make my legs shake and make me moan his name more than anyone I’ve ever met.” You say and he says, “until you met me.” He smirks, leaning in and you jerk back.

“Please fuck off.” You order, hating how he won’t take the hint. “Come on baby, don’t be mean. Gimme a chance to make you cum.” He coos, reaching for your wrist.

“Get the fuck off of me.” You hiss, trying to jerk your wrist out of his grip but he doesn’t let go.

Joel comes out of the bathroom, walking into the bar and the first thing he sees is you trying to pull your arm out of some asshole’s grip. The fucker not letting you go and Joel’s jaw clenches and his fists bunch together. “Oh shit.” Frank hisses, knowing what that look means. “Joel! Joel! Don’t do it! Joel!” Joel doesn’t even hear him as he crosses the bar in less than ten seconds and is dragging the asshole off of you. Whirling him around and punching him down to the ground before climbing on top of him and whaling away in an angry haze.

Your eyes widen and a shocked gasp escapes your lips as Joel continues to punch the asshole. “Joel. Joel. Stop!” You demand, knowing he’s going to kill the guy if you let him continue. You reach for his shoulder as he pulls his fist back again but he shrugs you off, his vision going red. Bill rushes around the bar, grabbing Joel’s waist to pull him off of the guy before he punches his face in. “Come on, man.” Bill grunts, dragging Joel off just enough for Frank to get in front of him. “Go. You gotta go.” Frank tells you when he hears someone calling 911. “Take Joel. Go.” Frank urges, knowing Joel can’t afford another arrest. “Motherfucker.” Joel growls, trying to get out of Bill’s grip.

“Stop it,” Bill growls, spinning him to drag him out of the bar. You nod, grabbing your purse and Bill escorts Joel to his truck. “Drive him home.” He orders, shoving Joel into his truck, his fists bloody and skin broken. Your hands shake, taking the key from Bill that he pulled out of Joel’s pocket. You get into the driver’s seat, adjusting the seat, and you barely manage to start the engine. “You- you gotta tell me where you live.”

Joel doesn’t answer you right away, staring down and his hand and flexing it to make sure nothings too broken. Just a few hairline fractures from what he can tell with the adrenaline still running through his system. “Joel!” You snap, making him look up at you, his eyes dark and focused, causing you to nearly shrink back from him. “Where do you live?” You repeat and he knows he’s in no condition to drive. He murmurs his address and then looks back down at his hand, sirens wailing in the distance.

You drive a little faster when you see the flashing lights on the horizon, wanting Joel to get home safe and sound. Your heart is still pounding but you manage to figure out his street and pull onto it, squinting to see the numbers in the dark. Finally, you pull onto his drive and put the truck in park, killing the engine. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” You murmur, getting out of his truck and rounding it to open the door for him.

Joel follows your instructions, getting out of the truck and following behind you as you climb the steps to the front door of his house. The old craftsman cottage has been a project for him, one that he needed after Tess, but now it is done and it is a beauty.

You unlock his door with the key on his truck key ring and you admire the workmanship that went into the home. Signs of Joel’s hard work are everywhere. You shut the door behind him when he walks in. “Do you have a first aid kit?” You ask and he nods, “laundry room.” He jerks his chin towards the door across the hall and you nod, “go sit” you order before you go find the kit.

He should tell you to go, but he just sits down at the dining room table and sighs. His hand hurts, but he’s fucking still amped up. His leg bouncing slightly as his pulse just jumps around.

You come into the dining room to sit down, opening the kit. Your stomach twists as you look at Joel, the dark look from earlier still not receding from his eyes. You’re silent as you work on cleaning the blood to assess the damage to his knuckles.

He wants you. The way his cock is twitching and throbbing as you work on him, it should scare him. Scare you. Your thumb brushes over his knuckle and he grabs your hand, making you look at him. “You should go.” He growls.

Your eyes meet his and you realize he doesn’t want you to go. You stare at him for a few moments, trying to figure him out until you say “no.” You won’t go. Not when he needs you and you need him. Sometime between the messing around and having sex, it became serious.

“I’m not going to be gentle.” He warns, wanting to be honest. “I can’t be. Not now, not when my fucking-“ he cuts himself off. “Last chance.”

You take a moment to wrap his knuckles. “I don’t want gentle.” You tell him, your eyes meeting his after you finish wrapping his knuckles with the bandage. “I want you. No matter what. I want you.” You promise, your gaze firm, showing him that you’re not running away.

Joel shoots out of his chair and grabs your shoulders, kissing you roughly, his lips bruising. He wants to destroy you, completely break you apart in a completely different way from how he would have handled that bastard. Wanting to banish the thought of him touching you from his mind and replace it with you.

You gasp into his mouth, his hands lifting you up onto the table and you grip his shirt, wanting to keep him close. Your legs wrapping around his waist and his cock is hard in his pants, pushing into your core. His tongue slides into your mouth and your hands slide up to tangle in his hair, tugging as you react to his rough touch.

Joel growls, biting your bottom lip and it’s like he’s lost all reason on control. He wants nothing more to break you down. His hands are rough and demanding, nearly ripping your dress off your body.

You reach out, fumbling to unbutton his shirt. Every time you’ve had sex, he’s been dressed. Tonight, you want to see all of him. You grow impatient and rip his shirt, buttons flying as you shove it down his shoulders to access his skin. Your hands explore his chest when the shirt hits the floor and you lean in, biting down on his peck.

He grunts, cock twitching and he squeezes your hands before he rips your panties off of you. Willing to sacrifice them to his needs.

“Oh my God!” You squeal at the ripping of your underwear. “Joel!” You gasp, moaning a second later when his fingers push inside of your dripping wet cunt. You slide your hands down to his belt, unbuckling it and you rip it out of the loops, working fast to unbutton his jeans and pull his hard cock out.

Joel pushes your hands away but you press your thighs together when he tries to step between them. “Strip.” You demand and he growls, needing to be inside you.

Joel kicks his boots off, his jeans hitting the floor and he shoves them across the floor. Naked in front of you for the first time, you lean back to admire his form. His arms are strong, freckled from being in the sun, and he has a slight belly but it’s so sexy. He’s not overly hairy and your hand lets go of his cock so you can caress his skin. “So gorgeous.” You murmur, lost in your own thoughts as you admire him.

Joel huffs, shaking his head. “I’m old, you’re gorgeous.” It’s the small bit of tenderness he can manage right now, but when he grabs you, his hands are harsh. “You’re not letting that fucker touch you.” He hisses, pushing your thighs apart. “He couldn’t fuck you like I do.” He grabs your leg and pulls it up on his hip, lining up and slamming his cock into your warm and giving cunt in one thrust.

“Joel!” You squeal as he stretches you out. You’re wet enough to take him but it pinches slightly. You don’t care. You grip his arms, lifting your thigh higher so he can push deeper inside of you. “Fuck baby.” You pant, tilting your head back as he starts to fuck you.

The table rocks, shaking and scrapping over the floor as he fucks you. Brutally slamming into you before quickly pulling back out to do it again. Savage and feral, his mouth bites and sucks at your tilted throat, needing to possess and mark you as his.

He’s possessing you with every thrust, bite, mark, and kiss. You’re surrounded by him. His woodsy smell from the lumber he works with in your nose and you moan, fumbling to cross your ankles behind his back to get him even closer.

He might break the fucking table, but he doesn’t care. All he cares about is the way you take him. Your pussy giving way to the harsh thrusts of his cock and squeezing tight around him. He growls and groans, making noises that sound inhuman as he fucks you.

“Joel. Oh my God.” You cry out, your hands scrambling to grip him, needing an anchor as he fucks you hard and fast. It’s harder than anything you’ve ever experienced. Feral and dominating but your cunt is absolutely gushing around him, your stomach clenched with arousal as he rocks into you. “Shit. You’re gonna make me cum.” You pant, reaching down to rub your clit, knowing he’s focused on thrusting into you.

He knows he should ease up, that you deserve tenderness but he doesn’t have it in him right now. The rage, the fury, all being taken out on your pussy. “Cum.” He grunts, the sound nearly demonic from how raspy he sounds. “Cum.”

How can you deny him when he asks you like that? He pounds into you two more times and you’re sent over the edge. Clamping down on him, your scream echoes in his house and your hand falls away from your clit to slam onto the table to keep yourself upright.

Joel hisses your name, so fucking close to cumming himself. It’s so sexy how easily you cum for him. Hips stuttering, he only manages another few thrusts before he is cumming, painting your walls with his cum as he moans your name again, softly this time.

You slump against him when he cums, his cock twitching inside of you, and you moan softly when he rests his head on top of yours. “Joel.” You murmur, throat closing slightly with emotions that you can’t give voice to.

Panting, he closes his eyes, his hands slowly relaxing and he sighs. “Are you- did I hurt you?” He asks softly. He hadn’t wanted to actually hurt you, despite being rough.

You shake your head, “no. No you didn’t, baby.” You promise, leaning in to kiss his chin and he sighs, turning his head to press his lips to yours. It’s surprisingly tender after how rough he fucked you. You cup his cheeks, caressing the gray stubble there to show him how much you care for him without actually telling him.

“Do you want to stay?” He nuzzles his nose against yours, realizing you must have left your car at the bar. He hasn’t even pulled out of you, but he doesn’t really want to. Suddenly tired and ready for bed after the evening.

“Yes.” You nod, knowing it’s too late to head home. He pulls out of you, slow enough to not hurt you, and you shift off of his table that has scraped along the floor. “Can I borrow a shirt?” You ask, watching him bend down to grab his jeans, pulling them on.

“Yeah, come on baby.” He uses his shirt to wipe up his cum and grabs you a bottle of water out of the fridge. “I’ll get you a shirt you can sleep in. Or you can sleep naked beside me.” He jokes, smirking at your wobbly footing when you stand up.

You’re soon dressed in his shirt, sliding under his sheets that smell just like him, and you’re exhausted. The events of the day hit you hard and you curl around him when he slides in beside you, water bottle placed on your nightstand.

Joel doesn’t like sleep, he dreams too much. Of Sarah, Tess and all the mistakes he has made over the years. Haunting him and weighing him down. Tonight, wrapped around you, Joel doesn’t dream.

The next morning, you wake up and groan against the sunlight peeking in through the blinds. “Joel?” You call out softly, voice raspy. The smell of bacon and eggs hits your nose and you get out of bed, peeing before you head downstairs to the kitchen. Your eyes widen when you find Joel cooking and sitting at the counter is a teenage girl.

“Holy shit, Joel! You had a sleepover.” Ellie pipes up, making Joel turn around from the stove. “Ellie! Language!” He hisses before he catches sight of you. “Hey! Uh, good morning. I’m making breakfast.” He explains, as if it weren’t obvious. Ellie snaps her fingers and says your name. “That’s you, right? Joel’s been talking about you.”

You are trying to figure out who Ellie is. You haven’t heard a word about her from Joel. “Oh, uh, yeah. Hi Ellie.” You greet her as you come over to Joel who is cooking. “Coffee is in the pot.” He says and you nod, grabbing the mug he left on the side and you pour yourself a cup. You feel awkward in his shirt, your hair all over the place, and you can feel Ellie watching you.

“Joel, Joel, Joel.” Ellie tsks and shakes her head before leveling a mockingly serious look at him when he slides her eggs onto her plate. “Do we need to have the talk, young man?” She snickers. “Are you engaging in safe sex?” She lowers her voice to a pitch that matches the old sex Ed videos. “Jesus Christ.” He hisses. “Don’t you have school?”

You smirk, finding it refreshing that the teenager is prodding at an otherwise always cool headed Joel. “Safe sex. I’ve looked after him.” You promise her as you lean against the counter and she chuckles, “he was practically soppy when I came in this morning. I slept over at my friend Riley’s house.” She explains and you nod, a little relieved she didn’t hear you and Joel last night. “I’m leaving for school after I’ve had my breakfast.” She adds, looking over at you. “I'm his foster kid, in case this dumbass didn’t tell you.” Ellie says, guessing from your look that you didn’t know about her. “I, uh, I’m sorry. Joel hasn’t really told me much.”

“Got lunch money, kid?” He asks, reaching into his pocket and pulling out some money. “It’s pizza day right?” He asks, smirking when she nods and snatches the money out of his hand before she shoves the eggs into her mouth and pops off the stool. “Well, see ya!”

“Bye!” You call out as she rushes off and you turn to look at Joel. “Another secret you’ve been keeping.” You tease softly and he snorts, “not a secret. Just didn’t want to drag you into my bullshit.” You shake your head, “that’s not bullshit. You- she seems like a good kid and you’re looking after her. You’re a good man, Joel. One I want to know more about. One I could easily fall for…maybe have been already.” You confess, reaching out to touch his arm.

“You….” Joel frowns slightly, setting a plate in front of you. “You like the fact that I’m an asshole?” He asks it like a question, one that he never considered before.

“I love the fact that you’re an asshole. You’re not an asshole to me…most of the time. I’ve never felt so wanted. I want - I want all of you, Miller. Even the asshole.” You joke, slightly flustered at your confession.

Joel shuffles uneasily and sighs. “I’m not good with words.” He admits, looking around the kitchen that he had once shared with Tess. “I didn’t- I don’t really share emotions.” He had realized that when she had thought he hadn’t felt the same way about her. That he hadn’t loved her. He had been raw about that for a long time, although the kid didn’t deserve to blame herself for Tess getting bit. Who the fuck would have ever thought a woman would die of rabies during this day and age? He looks back at you. “I can fuck you until you scream, protect you. Cook you breakfast. But that might not be enough for you.”

You reach up to cup his cheeks, bringing his eyes to yours. “That is enough. You are enough. I’m damaged too. Let’s not put pressure on this. We aren’t first loves. We aren’t teenagers. We are grown ass adults who can communicate. I don’t want a fairytale, I’ve been hurt before by silly dreams and fake promises. I want real. You’re real. I want you.” You assure him, your eyes burning into his.

Joel watches you for a moment and then gives a small nod. Agreeing with you. After last night, he’s not giving you up. You’re his. “I don’t break promises.” Joel tells you. “Not if I can help it.”

You nod, leaning in closer to kiss him softly. “I know, baby.” You murmur and he nudges his nose against yours. “I’m here to stay, baby. Especially with the way you cook bacon.” You grin, taking a slice off of the paper towel and biting into it. “You might want to stay at your parent’s house all the time when we are finished with it.” He jokes and you snort, shifting to sit down at the counter while he plates up the food. “I don’t think so, baby. Might have to convince my parents to add an extension. Keep you working for them.” You tease and Joel snorts, “you can have my cock for free.” He promises and you wink at him, swallowing the bacon. “Now that sounds like a good deal.” You smile and Joel chuckles, knowing that this job might’ve turned into the best one of his career. Not only did he get paid, he got a bonus: you.

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