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featherandferns · 17 days

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covet (drabble)

jj maybank x fem!reader | short and not exactly sweet ;)

content warnings: sexual content

word count: 4k.

There are certain things on this earth that can soothe the soul. A warm blanket that has a smell which reminds you of childhood; the incessant, repetitive come and go of the ocean waves on a sandy beach; when the sunset hits just so and everything feels at peace. It seems that the warmth of JJ Maybank’s skin against yours brings about that same clandestine peacefulness. You nuzzle your face against his bare bicep. His skin smells of sandalwood and seawater and sunscreen. The coarse hair barely tickles your cheek as you do so, making you smile, sleepy and spent. His breathing is slow and steady, warm air hitting the back of your neck, his head resting just behind your own as his body spoons yours. You shift your feet under the messed covers and feel them brush against your shorts and panties that JJ had almost frantically pulled down your body only thirty minutes or so before.

You want to talk but aren’t sure if you should. It feels as though there’s this bubble the two of you are held in and if you speak, you might cause it to burst.

JJ has this thing about him. He reminds you of a bonefish: a finicky fish known for being slippery and hard to catch. The fact that you have him here with you, like this, coiled around you the way he is despite the two of you having climaxed over ten minutes ago, feels rare and special. It terrifies you to do something to scare him off after wanting this for so long. After wanting him.

And yet, despite this, you can’t help yourself. It feels out-of-body when you hear your voice quietly interrupt the silence.

“Which do you prefer?” you begin to ask. “The sea or the marsh?”

At first you wonder if JJ’s fallen asleep, as his breathing doesn’t stutter and he doesn’t speak a word.

“Ain’t they the same thing?” he asks, his voice barely above a rasp.

“No,” you say, “the sea’s bigger and louder. They’re different.”

“Maybe the marsh then.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he replies. “I like the quiet of the marsh. Feels private and stuff, y’know?”

“Yeah,” you say, smiling stupidly to yourself, grateful he can’t see your face.

There’s some conversations you have in your life which feel as though they guide you and shape you into who you become. Some interactions carry such weight that you want to tether the words together and wear them like a necklace as to never let them drift. You have a notion that this entire night with JJ is that for you. You never want to forget the feeling of his fingers on your body, his mouth on your neck, his tongue on your chest, his arms around your frame, his voice against your pillow, and his answers to your questions. As if deciding this, you push yourself tighter into his hold. He responds easily, his own grip tightening by a slight, and you let your eyes slip shut.

“You gonna sleep over?” you ask.

“Maybe.”

That isn’t a no. You smile. It wobbles when he untethers himself from your body only moments later though. At first you think he might be getting more comfortable, but then you feel the mattress dip as he moves to sit on the edge. You sit up, pushing your hair behind your shoulders, and watch as JJ reaches down for his t-shirt.

“You’re going?”

“It’s late,” he says, back facing you as he dresses, “and I got work tomorrow.”

“Oh,” you mumble.

As if sensing your disappointment, once his t-shirt is over his head, he turns to you. A smile slips onto his face easily; it’s charming and disarming. You find your own smile returning at the sight. You feel your heart stutter and body throb as you remember how it felt to be tangled up with him less than an hour ago. JJ reaches out a hand and one of his fingers strokes along your cheek, cupping your chin before letting slip.

“I’ll see you around though.”

“Okay,” you nod. “You got my number, right?”

“Course,” JJ smiles. He stands, boxers already on, and shucks on his shorts. You stay in spot as if frozen, naked. He checks his hair in the mirror and messes with it a moment before grabbing his keys and phone from your desk. Then he takes the short steps to your bed and plants a kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll see you,” he mumbles, pulling away, glancing at his phone, probably checking the time.

Then he walks out your room, closes your door, and leaves you in silence. You stare after him somewhat dumbfounded. The stupor ends at the sound of your front door slamming closed (thank God your parents aren’t home) and you sink back into the sheets. The smell of him lingers against the linens: sandalwood and seawater and sunscreen and sweat. You snuggle into the side where he had just laid, as if trying to keep close to him, and let yourself slip off.

***

Days stretch into one mundane strip of living. You go to work and clock in and clock out. You shamelessly watch your phone; switch it on and off from ‘do not disturb’ and feel the same dulling disappointment when there’s no notification from a certain blonde haired boy. The silence feels almost like a strategy. A way to keep him at the top of your thoughts. You tag along to keggars and parties and surf days with the underlying hope that you might bump into him again. But JJ’s scarce suddenly on the island. As the time passes, you find it harder to remember the pull of his body against yours, and the smell fades from your sheets. It’s like he never existed in your life let alone in your room.

When you agree to join Caitlin to yet another gathering at the boneyard, your expectations are as low as the tide. Two hours in and your cup is empty again. You venture to the kegstand and wait patiently behind the girl in front. A tap of a finger on your shoulder has your head whipping around.

“Hey,” JJ grins.

Your smile comes too easy. “Hey.”

“Didn’t know you were here tonight,” he says.

“Could say the same to you.”

“I’ve been busy,” he hums, taking a swig of his drink.

The girl in front finishes and you shuffle forward, eyes trained mostly on JJ. He’s in one of those muscle-tees - a rather useless piece of clothing - and the same shorts he’d worn when you two had hooked up. Before you can go to refill your cup, he takes it from you and does it on your behalf. It shouldn’t affect you the way it does.

“So, how you been?” JJ asks, holding your cup out to you.

“Good,” you say. You feel you shouldn’t mention how you’ve been thinking of him non-stop for the past week. “Working a lot.”

“Seen anyone lately?”

Eyebrows tugging together, you try to track the meaning. “Not really, no.”

“I just, uh, heard you might be hanging with Jamie P.,” JJ says somewhat casually.

You can’t help but laugh. “No, no. Definitely not.”

“Damn! Not the heat on Jamie P!” JJ chuckles.

You laugh again and then the two of you share a smile. He holds his cup out half-jokingly and you tap yours against the rim as he says, “well, cheers.”

And from there the night follows a similar to dance to the last time you hung out. Seemingly out of nowhere, JJ approaches, and he talks and he flirts, and you laugh and indulge and try to keep your cool. Just as before, the two of you come to the same fork in the road. Sat on a piece of old driftwood, side by side, practically shoulder to shoulder, JJ nudges his combatboot clad foot against your ankle.

“So, uh, your parents still away?”

You roll your eyes, smiling. “That was not smooth at all.”

JJ laughs, “what’d you mean!? I think that was pretty good.”

“Mhm,” comes your unconvinced reply.

Rolling his eyes, JJ now nudges his shoulder against yours. Your face feels burning hot so you opt to study your feet. His gaze on you feels like an infrared light, shining through you, studying your thoughts. Did he know how long you’d wanted him? How long you’d waited for him to notice you? A part of you longed to ask him why. Why now? What made you realise? You don’t, though. Instead, you find some courage and dampen your lips, glancing up at him to meet his eyes. There’s an undercurrent to his: something deep and sensual. You know that look now and can read right through it. It’s the first spark to your kindling.

“They’re not,” you quietly tell him, replying to his earlier question.

A small smirk tugs at the edges of his lips. “Ain’t they?”

“Mm-mm.” You shake your head.

JJ’s foot rubs at your lower leg, up and down, slow and without hurry. Maybe it’s that, or maybe it’s his stare, or maybe it’s a combination of everything, but you feel yourself crave it more and more.

“You wanna get outta here then?” he asks.

“Okay,” you mumble, smiling shyly.

JJ grins and downs the last of his drink, and you sip away the dregs of yours. Truth was, your cup had been nearly empty for a while, but you were scared he might slip if you left to get a refill. With JJ, you always had to monitor the rod.

Instead of walking to your house, this time JJ guides you to his bike. He chats as you go, telling you about something that happened at his job at the country club, and something he and John B (his best friend) got up to the other day, and you nod and listen, genuinely captivated by the life he leads. Any insight into his day-to-day living feels like reading a page from the Lord’s diary. You treasure his words and his energy, and his attention most of all. There’s little hesitation when you mount the back of JJ’s bike, wrapping your arms around his middle as he kicks off the stand and revs the engine. A dreamlike haze comes as the two of you dart down the streets of Kildare. When he whoops and hollers you can’t help but giggle, face pressed against his back, once more hypnotised by his whole being. He slows to a stop outside your house and helps you off the bike, and the two of your hands remained tethered as you guide him up to your door.

The moment you pass through, his lips are on yours, his hands cradling your body like you’re something precious. You’re glad to respond: sighing against his mouth, tongue teasing against his. His fingers are cool on your burning skin, slinking under your shirt and slipping over your bralette. It’s confusing and messy as the two of you stumble along the hallway, giggling when either of you collides with a piece of furniture or trip over a shoe. Soon enough, you’re back in your bedroom.

And then you’re naked atop of him, and he’s going down on you like it’s his God-given right, and you’re working him to the edge with your hand, pressing tantalising kisses to his neck and earlobe, and the two of you are fucking; a writhing, sweaty mess in your bed. Every noise he makes marks itself against your frontal lobe in permanent ink. Every press of his fingers into your flesh tattoos onto your neurons. Every moment is forever memorialised in your mind. And then it’s all over. He shakes when he comes, panting against your bare shoulder. You daren’t let go of him. All you can seem to think - a rather innocent thought in lieu of what just occurred - is how happy you could make him if he just let you.

This time, instead of cuddling, you find yourself sitting against him upright. He’s toying with your hair, working it into a braid, and when you complain that you’re cold, he hands you his t-shirt. That and his boxers are the only clothing keeping you apart from being skin to skin. You sigh and relax against him, and he decides to wrap his arms around your front now instead. His voice is warm and cosy like tennessee whiskey when he speaks against your ear, chin settled on your shoulder.

“You’re something real special, you know that?”

“Shut up,” you mumble, bashful.

“Nah, I’m serious. Like the smartest chick I ever met.”

“Can’t meet a lot of chicks then,” you try to jest.

“Yeah right,” JJ snorts.

Something in your stomach shifts at the mixed meaning. Something in your heart makes you overlook it. You bring your hands up to tether your fingers into his, clasping both your hands together over your stomach. Your fingers run over his knuckles; feeling every healed cut and bruising scar.

“Why me?”

“Huh?”

“Why me?” you ask, unable to hold off any longer.

JJ shrugs. “What’s that mean?”

“Like what made you choose me?” you say, not daring to look over your shoulder.

JJ clears his throat and sniffs, and a pause comes that’s hard to name. “I don’t know. You’re, uh…You’re fuckin' hot for one.”

You laugh quietly at that, the same way JJ does, and you try to tell yourself that that’s reason enough. But it isn’t, and he doesn’t elaborate, and suddenly his hold feels a little less comforting and a little more like a trap.

***

The seat of the campervan is uncomfortable enough without you writhing in it. JJ kneels on the floor in front of you. His palms are pressed against the inside of your thighs, holding you open, head nestled between them, and you’re doing your damndest to keep still but it’s hard when you’re this close. Half-broken pleas fall past your lips, your head tilted back, eyes slipping open and shut, as JJ eats you out. It’s like some filthy prayer, the sounds the two of you make together, and it makes it harder not to come. It’s not as though you can’t - you just don’t want it to end.

When JJ pulls away, though, you find it impossible to not fall over the edge. His fingers slip into you all too easily - embarrassingly so - and he sits back on his haunches, wiping the lower of his face clean on the back of his arm as he fingers you.

“Come on, baby,” he mumbles, watching you. “I know you’re close.”

Your voice cracks when you come and you’re not sure why.

By the time you’ve caught your breath, JJ’s already back on his feet and heading to the door of the van. You scramble to pull your skirt down as he yanks it open.

“Where are you going?” you ask.

“Gotta take the van back to John B’s,” JJ says without turning, jumping out the back of the van.

You wipe your face and run a hand over your hair, feeling messy and dirty, and follow after him blindly.

“Can I come with?”

“Sure, I guess,” he shrugs.

You head to the passenger side and climb in. JJ starts up the engine and the two of you head to John B’s place. Now instead of your moans and JJ’s grunts, the van is filled with noises from the radio. Mindless chatter that you struggle to home in on, body still scrambled from your quick hook-up in the back. As usual, JJ doesn’t make much conversation. You like to think he prefers to observe and sit in a moment, though that feels strange considering how talkative he is around his friends. But if he didn’t want to be here, he wouldn’t be. More often than not it was JJ who sought you out and you were more than happy to be found. Reminding yourself of this, you spare him a glance - his eyes trained ahead on the road, a line set on his face for a mouth - and smile smally to yourself.

John B’s house is a fishing shack on the marsh edge. There’s few lights on from outside at this hour of dusk. The two of you climb out and you follow JJ dumbly to the door, unsure whether to reach for his hand or not. He doesn’t knock. Walks right in as if it’s his home as well and hollers out for John B once he does. You linger in the doorway.

John B rounds the corner and the two share a bro-style hug, falling into conversation as JJ hands over the keys. You keep your smile steady and hang back, and soon enough John B’s eyes fall on you. As they do, JJ gestures between the two of you.

“Oh, right, uh,” he says before introducing the two of you. There’s no label prior to your name. Not even friend. You aren’t sure what to make of that and so you don’t make anything of it. You aren’t sure what to make of the look John B shoots to JJ either. Whatever it was, it doesn’t seem to sit well with JJ. He turns to you and wordlessly guides you out the house and onto the porch. The door swings closed.

“So, uh, listen,” JJ says, glancing back inside briefly. “I’m gonna crash here for the night, yeah?”

“Oh,” you say. “Okay.”

JJ looks at you, briefly scanning up and down. His lips rub together. “So, uh, you’re good making your own way back right?”

“Oh,” you repeat, more stunned this time.

“I mean, I can give you a ride if you need–”

“No, no, it’s, uh, all good,” you ramble. “It’s not even that late anyway. Or that far.”

“You sure? I mean, I really can if you need me to,” JJ says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I got it,” you smile, fighting back a wince as you do. “I’ll see you soon, right?”

“Yeah, course.” JJ finally seems to find his own smile, and you try to let it reassure you as it had before. You really do try.

“Well, see you ‘round then,” you awkwardly say, heading down the porch steps.

You begin to walk up the drive and decide to take one last glance back as you do. It’s perfectly in time to see the shutter door close and hear JJ’s loud chatter with John B. When you round onto the road, the silence feels deafening.

***

The gaps in yours and JJ’s interactions felt familiar now. That was just how you two worked. That’s to say, when he winds up at the restaurant you work at with his friends, you’re taken aback all the same. A smile comes to your features as quick as your heart is beating. You scoop up some menus before anybody else has a chance to and venture over to their table.

“Hey guys,” you smile.

JJ’s head darts up at the sound of your voice. He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t even look happy. If anything, he looks panicked. It feels as though the world tips slightly on its axis.

You hand out the menus. “You guys need to know the specials today?”

“Yeah, please,” the girl smiles. You recognise her vaguely from school and JJ’s instagram. Kiara, you think her name is. She’s gorgeous: sunkissed and toned, her hair intertwined with tiny braids and wrists decorated with handmade bracelets. She sits in between JJ and John B.

“We got a Thai chilli salmon today with grits and seasonal veggies, and sweet potato soup with garlic seasoning. Can I get y’all any drinks?”

“Waters would be great,” Kie replies.

You nod and try to catch JJ’s eye before leaving. He’s staring steady at the table. As you fill a jug full of water, you can’t help but glance at the table from time to time. Kiara excuses herself, heading towards the bathroom, and the tone completely shifts. John B grabs JJ by the shoulder and talks to him in a stern manner, though you can’t make out what they say. The other guy (Pope, you think his name might be) nods along emphatically to whatever John B is saying, and with all their attention taken up, you slowly make your way over with the water.

“It’s fucked up JJ. You gotta tell her before she finds out–”

Pope must spot you in his peripheral vision as his eyes momentarily widen.

“Water!” he loudly announces.

John B and JJ quickly break apart. The blonde haired boy looks borderline sheepish as you place the jug down. An uneasy feeling sets in your gut. Kiara returns and joshes them for acting so strange. Nobody laughs and nobody talks.

“Y’all ready to order?” you ask, pen and pad at the ready.

“We’ll just do a large serving of your fries and some onion rings,” Kiara replies.

You scribble it down and nod. You don’t bother trying to catch JJ’s attention this time. Mumbling out a thanks, you head back to the kitchen. Caitlin doesn’t ask questions when you ask her to take over the table for you. It hurts too much to have JJ act as though he doesn’t know you. It feels as though a bird has flown by and erased his memory; cleansed him of all past sins, including you.

It's an understatement to say it catches you off guard when JJ lingers behind to talk to you after his friends leave.

“Hey,” he says, leaning against the counter.

“Hey.”

“I’m, uh, sorry ‘bout that, earlier,” he uselessly apologies.

“It’s cool.”

“It’s just kinda complicated cause of…Well, you know…”

“Yeah, course,” you mumble, not having a clue what he was meaning.

“So, yeah, I just think…I think maybe we should dial it back a bit,” JJ not-so-delicately says.

Your brows tug together. “What are you talking about?”

“Just us. Y’know, this thing? I think it’s kinda run its course. Done what it needed to do and stuff, don’t you think?”

You stare at him a moment, completely baffled. It feels as though he’s spent the past month building you up, working you onto pedestals, only to tear them down from beneath you and watch you fall. You sort of hate yourself for not asking for more of an explanation. Instead, almost stupefied, you nod.

“Yeah, uh, okay.”

JJ grins, bright and happy, seemingly pleased by the amicable conclusion. His knuckles rap lightly against the counter in farewell.

“I’ll see you around then,” he says, already starting toward the door. You don’t even bother trying to reply.

***

It shouldn’t surprise you all that much. He isn’t known for being loyal, or committed, or even present. JJ had a reputation that was hard to shake, and whilst some of it was thanks to his father, some of it was thanks to him. It shouldn’t surprise you, but it does. Maybe it’s because of who he’s with. Maybe it’s because it’s Kiara who’s hanging on his arm, laughing at his jokes, leaning on him like you got to do for a handful of weeks. Maybe it’s because you know how long JJ and Kiara have been friends, and how this doesn’t feel meaningless. If anything, it feels the opposite.

Those feelings fester inside of you. Bury deep in your stomach and poison your mood. Hurt of that kind does things to a girl. It makes them bitter and vengeful, and suddenly karma becomes your kink. You stand on the far side of the beach with your friends, tuned out of the conversation, gaze set on JJ. He must feel it. It isn’t exactly a stare, there is little malice in your eyes, but it’s steady-set like an eagle watching prey. When JJ glances over and meets your line of sight, you can’t seem to look away. You want to do something hurtful to him, something savage and cool, but you can't find it in yourself. All you can remember is how he smells: sandalwood and seawater and sunscreen.

Kiara presses a kiss to his cheek as she breaks off to grab a refill and you find yourself following her course. It shouldn’t bring you as much joy as it does knowing JJ can’t do anything but watch.

The two of you arrive at the keg at the same time. She catches sight of you and smiles. Greets you and double checks your name, smiling moreso when she gets it right.

“So, you and JJ, huh?” you lightly ask, filling your cup.

This dopey smile flashes across her face as she glances over her shoulder to him. You feel sick and pray it doesn't show. “Yeah. It’s pretty new.”

“I’ll say,” you reply. Only last week, he had his head between my thighs. “He’s sweet though, right?”

“Yeah,” Kie chuckles, sort of rolling her eyes. “When he wants to be.”

As she fills up her cup, you look over her shoulder to JJ. He's watching the interaction like his life depends on it. Maybe it does. He gives a slight shake of his head. It’s subtle but it’s enough.

Kiara stands tall once more and you casually tap the rim of your cup against hers in a mock cheers, just as JJ had done to you a couple of weeks prior. She smiles at you.

“We should hang out more, y’know,” she says to you, taking a swig of her drink. “You’d get along good with JJ, I bet.”

You just nod.

“Well, I better head back,” Kiara says in farewell. She wanders back to JJ.

You stand steady and watch them reconnect. Watch how she wraps her arms around his shoulders and falls into conversation with John B. Watch how his arm stays steady held around her waist as she does: the quiet possessiveness and protectiveness that comes with such an action. It fills you with a confusing influx of emotions.

But you’ll never talk about it. Don't need to. It's pretty clear, here and now.

August was a placeholder for JJ. You were the ideal distraction from the girl he wanted the most. So blinded in your infatuation, so obvious in your obsession, that JJ could get his affection temporarily from another. But you don’t really have a basis to be angry, do you? After all, how can you lose something that was never truly yours.

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