#pam's when she's closing the door

[whatimdoing-here]

[macfrog]

heart, body, soul cowboy like me chapter thirteen

surprise! happy friday eve. here's some cowboy to get you through it. life has been a little tough on me lately. sorry for the terribly long wait. but the end is in sight, dear readers. tighten the stampede string on your hats. we're coming in to land.

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: you and joel are at an impasse. you resolve it the only way you know how

warnings: age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), cursing, alcohol consumption, mention of dr*g use, titty appreciation, face sitting, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, major fluff, major angst

word count: 14.4k (y’all ask. mother macfrog delivers)

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You sigh. “I don’t want you…with…anyone else. I want you to…only want me.” His brows straighten. You sit in silence, staring at one another. Both daring the other to be the first to talk. But it’s his turn, and he knows it. So he swallows, and says – “I don’t want nobody else.” And that’s a thing. A great big, terrible thing.

It’s been a week since you last saw Joel. Blurred, tilting, pulling to-and-fro across your vision. A week since you last heard him; his low voice like the hum of an electric wire, tired acoustics drumming weakly through his chest into your heavy hand, laced through his own. Fingers draped softly across his swollen knuckles. You wonder if they’re still marked seven days later.

A week since you felt him. Felt your body lean towards him – gravity or dizziness or something stronger – as his weight dipped into the bed beside you. The way it has only a handful of times now, but enough to score it deep into your memory. Enough that you know the difference between him and anyone else, even with your eyes closed and your heart bleeding.

Enough to ensure that, for as long as you live, you’ll know and see each difference between him and every other person you ever meet. They won’t lower their head the way he does, or lift the corners of their mouth like him. Your name won’t sound the same, won’t sound as complete, coming from someone else’s mouth. Your body won’t magnetize to anyone, the way it does to him.

And that’s fine. The separation. The fact that he was a fleeting moment. The fact that it was over before you felt it leave, before you heard the door close behind it. It’s fucking fine.

Still, you let it hurt a while. Just a little while.

The gash on your calf has healed up, your hangover had subsided by Saturday evening. But your chest still feels tight, your hands are still restless. You lie awake staring at the ceiling, surrounded by the clothes you have of his; breathing in the ghost of his scent and breathing out pathetic, aching sighs. He’s all you smell, all you touch.

Except – he’s not anymore, is he? He saw to that well enough.

So you let it hurt. And you think you can just about make do with that.

“Hey, hon,” you dad gently calls, hanging on your doorframe. Your room is dark, drapes closed, the only light source the white light from your laptop.

“Hi,” you reply, with a break in your voice. Your eyes don’t lift from the screen. Jim just told Pam he’s in love with her, but she’s engaged to Roy. But she really loves Jim, she just won’t admit it. It’s cathartic, okay?

Dad steps into the room and awkwardly stuffs his hands into his jean pockets. “Awfully, uh…awfully quiet lately, hm? Everything okay?”

“Fine. Everything’s fine.”

It’s not a lie. You are fine. You’re so fine, you’re actually numb to it.

The problem is that for the last few weeks, you’ve been more than fine. The best you’ve felt in months – maybe even years. The most you’ve smiled, the hardest you’ve laughed. The warmest the blood has ever run through your veins.

And then you’re just – fine again. Back to nothing.

He shuffles between feet. Stares at the floor, where his shadow sprouts from his toes. “I was gonna head into town, grab a few things. You wanna come? Sit in the car with a book, maybe?”

“I’m good, Dad. Thanks.”

“Sure? Whatcha watchin’?”

“The Office.”

He nods. “Right, right. I, uh, I was thinkin’ of askin’ Joel and Sarah over for dinner tonight. You always have fun when they’re around. You and Sarah could spend some time together, y’know?”

Your heart nosedives straight from your chest into your stomach. The thought of seeing him again, this time crystal clear and not while under the influence of alcohol, drugs, or worse, sinks its sharp claws into your shoulders and sinks you deep underwater. His voice gets lost somewhere in the space between you. And when you finally come back up for air, back into the room, you gulp back whatever string of senseless words your empty chest initially offered up.

“Hm…” You pretend to consider the thought, then head straight for passive. “Whatever. Sure.”

Your dad’s mouth opens to respond, and you cut in again.

“I’m kinda tired,” you say, yawning. Trying to make him leave.

He’s not great at taking hints. “Kiddo, I am really worried about you. Weren’t you s’posed to be working this mornin’?”

“You ain’t gotta worry about me. I’m just a little tired, is all. Wasn’t feeling up to restocking tools and dealing hardwood to your buddies.”

It’s only the second truth you’ve told him since he set foot in your room. You never feel much like work, not Sal’s-fucking-Hardware-kinda work, anyway. But the thought of standing for seven hours with a bared-teeth grin plastered on your face, hands blistering from tearing open box after box of stock, shoulder slowly coming up in a bruise from the number of customers tapping on it…you figured Sal could do without you for one fucking day.

“You wanna look some more at other jobs?” Dad asks, and finally you look up. The blurry, luminous silhouette of Jim and Pam is strung in the dim air before him.

You shake your head. “Not right now. I have some bookmarked I can show you later.”

He takes a deep breath, unsure of which angle to come at you from next. Finally, with an air of resignation and defeat, he settles for, “You know where I am if you need me,” and closes your door as he leaves.

You’re staring intensely at the face of every character onscreen. The pixels burn into your eyes. You’re trying harder than anything to get him out of your head. It’s not working.

His hand through yours, his arms around you – warm, safe, protective; the way he smelled, sweet like whiskey, sharp like pine; the way he’d mumble, lips against your head, sweet nothings pressed into your hair; the feeling of his lips on yours, hungry for something only you knew how to give him. The look in his eyes, tender, knowing, loving.

And because he was the only other person fluent in your little secret language – a look, a nod, a tug at the corners of his mouth. His eyes settling on yours only for a nanosecond, one tiny moment in time laced with a thousand words that you translated as quickly as his glance moved across you. It all meant something. It all meant so fucking much.

All of it. You feel all of it as it sinks through your skin, through bone and into your brain. As it curls around your ribcage, holds tight around your heart. Every thought and feeling that flutters through on full display for him to read. And you’d let him, because it’s him. You trusted him. You – you might’ve even –

I mean, what the fuck, right? When the fuck did this happen?

Joel Miller. Joel fucking Miller.

Is this what you thought would happen that very first time you looked at him differently? Tidying up after pizza, leaning into you, telling you you’re nothin’ but trouble? Did he know then, that this was where you were headed?

Did you?

Your phone buzzes. You glance down at it through your tears.

Sarah: wtf is going on ???

You craft a reply as nonchalant as you can manage. Three little letters.

You: Wym?

Sarah: are u good??

You: Yeah lol. Why wouldn’t I be good

Sarah: idfk. weird. my dad’s on the phone to yours rn

That’s great. That’s just fucking great. He’s probably telling Joel right this second how miserable you are. That’s all you need.

You want to hold onto your pride, keep an air of casualness about you impermeable to even Sarah – but you desperately want to know what’s being said. What she’s listening to him say.

You: Yeah? What are they talking about?

Sarah: well now it’s just some andrew guy

Sarah: sounds like a loser

Sarah: we’re coming over for dinner tonight btw

You: Nice. See ya then

Sarah: u wanna come over here before? we can watch love island

You: I’m good. Gonna go for a nap

Sarah: you can nap here. come over!!!

You bury the phone under your pillow without replying. Sarah is like Joel in many ways, but her persistent nature is one avenue in which they drastically differ. Joel would – and has – give you space, let you mope; Sarah will probably text you all afternoon until she’s on your doorstep, takeout in one hand and a telling in the other.

So you drag your phone back out and put it on Do Not Disturb mode. She’s already sent two more texts since her last.

Sarah: seriously. would you come the fuck over. im only on episode 5 i gotta catch up

Sarah: even my dad is worried about you

Yeah. Good one, Joel. Fuckin’ asshole.

----------

They arrive at six on the dot, armed with pizza and a crate of beer. The doorbell rings once, you lean over a degree to glance down the hallway, and Sarah’s stepping over the threshold, her shadow of a father at her heels.

He’s rugged. Hair amok. He kinda looks a mess, sorta looks how you want him to after almost two weeks of no you. But he’s here. He’s right in front of you. And this time, the shape of him isn’t swimming across your glassy eyes.

Your heart swells with relief to see him again, only until it twinges from the wound that he caused, and it hurts all over again. You turn back in your stool to face the kitchen island, making some noncommittal noise when Sarah’s hand presses between your shoulder blades in greeting.

“Tyrique and Ella are kinda cute, but I don’t trust him. Dude’s gonna fuck her over for sure,” she mutters, shoving the box over the counter towards your dad, who accepts the beer from Joel with a pat on his arm.

He’s standing across the kitchen – Joel – as far as he can get from you. You’re sure his eyes haven’t lifted from the floor yet. But you scan him all over, from the loose collar of his shirt down to the cuffs, rolled halfway up his forearms; from the rough hair of his beard down to the soft tufts decorating the skin just below his clavicle.

You scan him all over. The body you know just as well with the flannel and jeans over it as you do without them. The body you’ve squeezed, and scratched, and bit and kissed – and the same one you’ve thrown curses and insults at as it follows you through his house.

If he looked you dead in the eye right now, you’re not sure you could look away. You’re not sure you could stop.

That is, until Sarah presses a chilled beer to your arm, startling you, and silently nods towards the dining table.

She sits on your right, opposite your dad’s seat. She resumes chittering about Love Island. Joel and your dad are still in the kitchen, stacking plates, cracking the caps off their drinks. And then he pushes off the counter, and slowly wanders over.

You watch his every move. Study him, like you’re about to be tested on it. Which foot he steps forward with – always his left – and which chair he’ll pick once he’s at the table – the one opposite you, ‘cause it faces the TV for when he and your dad watch baseball while eating.

Two for two.

He lifts the chair, pulls it back, and angles it to face Sarah’s. He places his beer gently on the mat. When he sits, he doesn’t pull in any closer. Doesn’t risk your legs crossing paths under the table. You pull your knees up, let your shins rest against the wooden ledge. Your dad takes Joel up in conversation.

“So, this Andrew. He’s the brains of the operation?”

The pizza is slowly pulled apart over the course of an excruciating hour-long meal. Sarah puts the next episode of Love Island on while you eat, points out her favorite couples and nudges you to ask your opinion on the girls’ outfits.

“Wouldn’t have gone with those heels,” she mutters, chewing, pointing with her pizza crust to some six-inch ankle-breakers.

You lean past her shoulder every now and then to pretend you’re as engaged as she is. Pretend you’re listening. Your left ear is tuned into the conversation happening across the table.

Your dad thinks Andrew Curtis is fucking hilarious. Hoots with laughter when Joel tells him about his untucked button up. Says, Oh, jeepers, when he hears about the way the guy tripped jumping down from his truck.

The storyteller doesn’t sound so lively opposite. Your dad’s slapping his thigh with laughter. Joel’s shoulders are jerking at best. You dare a glance at him, and he’s already facing your direction. He turns away before your eye reaches his chest.

Soon, the episode ends. The atmosphere dies arm in arm with your dad’s attempt at another conversation. There’s a thick silence between the four of you. You haven’t opened your mouth the entire meal, but even if you did, the tension would clamp its heavy hand over your lips, blocking any words from making their way out of your windpipe.

Sarah clears her throat, manages a tentative, “I –” and then the phone rings, piercing through the awkward mist like a bolt of lightning.

Your dad pushes himself up and trots over, grabbing the handset a little too hastily. “Hello? Oh, hi, Rita. Hi. Yeah. Yep, Joel’s – Sarah? She’s here, yep.”

Sarah’s head drops, hand gripping her glass frozen in mid-air. “Fuck,” she whispers, and Joel shoots her a look across the table.

“She’s – oh, yeah? Well, let me ask ‘er.” Your dad covers the bottom of the handset with a huge palm. “Rita has some…cross –”

“Cross stitch, yeah, I know,” Sarah says, and thuds her glass down. “I said I’d help her out with it. I bet she’s seen your damn truck across the street!” She jabs a furious finger at her dad.

Joel shrugs. “Ain’t my fault the woman has eyes.”

Your body jerks as if to laugh. You don’t catch it in time. He notices.

“She’s on her way over, Rita,” your dad continues, nervously smiling at Sarah as she pulls her jacket over her shoulder. “She’s – oh, sure, I’ll let her know. Alright, now. Bye, Rita, bye. You’ve to bring your glasses. ‘pparently the pattern’s pretty small. You even wear glasses?”

She huffs in response. “I’m gonna be there all damn night. I’ll just get you at home.”

Joel opens his mouth to protest, goes to warn her that she ain’t walkin’ home alone in the damn dark, but your dad holds his hand out.

“We’ll give you a ride home. You come back here once you’re done.”

She nods gratefully and struts off down the hallway. The door slams shut behind her.

Your dad lightly chuckles, sauntering back over to his seat. “And then there were three…” he says, sitting back down.

But the loss of Sarah only cranes the spotlight over to you. Only you. No one else to split it with. No one else to lend it to. You can feel your dad’s eyes on you, waiting for you to make a move, some song and dance for your company.

He lifts his beer to his lips. Nods to you. Makes a song and dance of his fucking own, when he says, “Guess who’s been lookin’ at grad jobs?”

Joel stares at him for a second, like he’s waiting for your dad to reveal who it is he means. Like it can’t possibly be the only she in the room. His thumbs tap around his own bottle. “Oh – yeah?” he stammers, and throws a haphazard glance in your direction. He seems to mean to address you.

You sit forward, choke out a, “Yeah, uh – it’s – well. Kinda.”

“Film?” he asks, and you hear the rest of the question in the tone of his voice. Somethin’ you like, ‘n not just your dad’s suggestion?

You nod, but he’s not looking. He’s studying the label of his beer.

“Film,” your dad confirms. “Shut me the hell up, didn’t she? Came downstairs with her laptop the other night. Where is it, kiddo – New York?”

Your breath catches. The answer cowers at the back of your mouth, terrified to show itself. You force it forward.

“LA.”

Joel’s eyebrows lift.

“I said she might be better goin’ back to school. Reapply for next year, right?” Dad looks to you, and your lips pull in an awkward smile. “…but she didn’t wanna wait around. Told you the other day – this place is like prison.”

He chuckles, but Joel isn’t laughing. He’s staring at his beer, his brows slowly lowering from arched and curious to dark and furrowed. And you want to reach for his hand, want to shoo your dad off and spill your guts to his best friend. Want to explain yourself, show him the webpages and application forms you’ve spent the last few days surfing through – want to justify yourself to him.

But so long as your father is sat here, bumbling to himself about the prices of college courses these days – none of that happens. You simply sit in a stalemate opposite one another – a million thoughts racing through your head, a million and one racing through Joel’s.

“…might change her mind, but who knows? She’s skittish, this one, she –”

Another bleating ringtone cuts what you’re sure would’ve been an endearing compliment short. You say a silent prayer of gratitude for whoever’s at the other end of the line. Your dad sighs and heaves himself up again, swiping the phone from the kitchen counter.

“Hello? Hi, hi, Richard. No, I’m not – well, it’s – sure, sure. What’s –?”

His head falls in much the same way Sarah’s did ten minutes ago. He sighs.

“Right. No, that’s quite alright. I can be there in ten. Yep. Alright. See you in a – hello?”

He drops the phone back into its cradle and runs a hand down the back of his neck, growling.

“Kelman?” Joel asks, jaw turning to his shoulder.

“You bet. Misplaced the damn keys for his site. You two alright if I head on over there ‘n lock up for ‘im?”

“He familiar with Andrew Curtis at all?” Joel quips, and then waves your dad off. “Go on. I’ll be outta your hair by the time you get back.”

In a frenzied blur, your dad’s tying his laces, grabbing his keys, tossing a jacket over his shoulders. He apologizes a total of four times to Joel, thanks him for dinner, promises he’ll pay him back next time he sees him. And then he’s jogging off to the front door, and taking every ounce of comfortability with him.

And then there were two.

You slouch back in your chair, listening through the silence as your dad’s car engine fades down the street. When the quiet humming disappears, Joel’s head turns back to face you.

You’re alone again. For the first time in a week. This is the closest you’ve felt him, even separated by the dining table and a fog of conversation that you have no idea how to begin clearing. There’s more weight to the silence between you than words could ever bear, you know that much. More to be communicated between your eyes than your tongues know the language of. But still, you can see him through it.

Like a lighthouse, shining bright and beckoning you to the shoreline. You can feel him again, as if there’s an electric pulse radiating off of him. And you feel drawn in, like you always do; feel that magnetic pull in your chest, only ever satiated by the meeting of Joel’s.

You shift in your seat. His eyes flit up. Your heart jumps, like it’s a sign he’s really still in there. And then they drop back to his lap, and your chest sews itself back together.

Your eyes start to burn with fast-forming tears. Your throat tightens, tightens, tightens, pushing them higher and higher until they pool across your waterline. Blinking doesn’t help, just drops them onto your cheeks, to be quickly swept away by the sleeve of your hoodie.

All you want is for him to look you in the eye, whisper, C’mere, baby, scoop you up and hold you in his arms forever. Fuck everything you said about the distance being good. That was when he was in his house, and you were in yours. He’s here, right now. He’s sat across from you. You’re finally on your own again. And he’s not fucking looking at you.

You let your legs down and sit up straight in your chair. It’s small, but it feels like a necessary step to silently tell him that you’re in the room with him. You’re here.

It lifts his eyes again. Not to you, but to your empty plate. Then, to the wet stain on your sleeve. You hope it stabs his heart a little.

From the shaky breath he sucks in, it seems to hurt just enough. He clears his throat. Pulls his gaze higher, higher, a little higher, until you’re eye to eye.

A wave of feeling, either burning hot or freezing cold – you can’t tell the difference – stretches across your body. It’s unnerving, and yet calming. It’s soothing on your wound, and irritating all the same. He’s looking at you. You wonder if he can see you.

You stare at one another for a few moments, drinking it all in. You can see him clear as day. You can almost see the shadows of his thoughts as they dance across the frosted-glass windows of his hazel eyes.

He blinks. Breathes in deep through his nose. And then speaks.

“LA, huh?”

You scoff. You don’t fucking mean to, but it’s the opposite of what you expected – and kind of wanted – him to say. Your whole body relaxes, though – finally relieved of the tension of the last seven days, even if only for a moment.

You feel lighter, like someone kicked the door down and this is the first gulp of clean air in your lungs. It’s small, insignificant even, but it does what it needs to.

Which is – it gives you the energy to answer back.

“It’s not a concrete plan. Yet.”

“Yet,” he repeats.

“I’m not running from you, if that’s what you’re thinking. Get your head out of your ass.”

He wants to laugh. He should’ve expected it.

“I didn’t say anythin’. I think…I think it sounds like a good plan. ‘n you’d be close by to Sarah, so.”

This conversation feels like you’ve been left alone for ten minutes with your dad’s buddy. Sanitized. Surgical. Which would’ve been what it was little over a month ago, but it’s not now. Now, it’s totally different. There’s more than just that one neat string between you.

You’ve held his hand. You’ve kissed him. You’ve touched him, in ways you’ve only ever touched a handful of people. And even then – none of those times have been anything like the way you’ve touched Joel. You’ve tasted him, you’ve felt him as he climaxes somewhere deep inside you. You’ve pulled him into your body, over and over; you’ve let him have you in ways nobody else has.

There exists a complicated, messy web of history and emotion, woven tight between you. The weight of it bears down on the surface of the dining table.

And he’s talking to you about fucking grad jobs.

“Could you just – stop fucking with me?” you ask, sincerely. You’re not angry, you’re not hurt. Not anymore.

Joel lifts his chin. Studies your face. “I’m not fucking with you.”

“Yes, you are. You’re talking to me about some job, like there’s nothing else to talk about. Like there ain’t nothin’ else we might have to discuss.”

His response is resigned. Bored, even. “What else do you wanna discuss?”

You narrow your eyes. “Oh, um, I don’t fucking know. Last week?”

Joel takes a swig of beer. You take it as reply enough.

“I don’t have any clue where you’re at, Joel. You pick me up from Frank’s, beat a dude up for me, put me to bed, ‘n then when I wake up, you’re gone. Oh, but you left your fuckin’ shirt. By accident? Or for me? Who the fuck am I to know?”

He holds back a smile. “I had work.”

“Right,” you nod, “Andrew Curtis.”

“That guy’s an idiot. You’d probably like ‘im.”

“I bet. I’m fond of idiots, apparently.”

This time, he can’t hold it back. A smirk spreads across his lips, soft and shy, but there. Right there. You could reach out and fucking touch it.

And then he nods. Leans back in his chair, folds his arms, and nods. The smile begins to fade.

With it, goes the breathing space between you. The fog starts to thicken again. The web tightens some more. Your chest begins to ache. Things feel normal for all of two minutes, and then they’re back to awkward air so heavy that you can feel it on your shoulders, feel it forcing you into a slump in your chair.

This whole thing is built on lies. Lies on top of lies on top of lies. The only truth there has ever been has been between the two of you. Two lonely figures, wrapped in each other’s arms in the eye of a storm. So –

Fuck it.

You sniff. “I thought – that the most we were risking was my dad. I thought the worst that could happen was him findin’ out.”

Your voice is quiet. Unsure of itself. One word carrying you to the next, not totally sure where you’re going with it.

“I didn’t know I was risking losing you, too, and now…now, you’re just gone. Like, you don’t wanna talk to me, you barely wanna look at me. I don’t…I don’t have you anymore, and it’s all fucked up. Do you know, I – I wouldn’ta done any of it if I thought you’d go?”

Joel flinches. Tightens the hold on his arms.

“I want you to come back,” you say, stronger this time. Louder. Clearer. You’re ignoring the tears sweeping across your vision. “Just come back. You don’t even – you don’t even have to touch me or nothin’. We can just hang out and talk, we don’t have to…we don’t have to do anything.”

Your voice wobbles by the end. Your lips tighten around it, shutting it off before you can say anything more to embarrass yourself.

Joel’s still quiet. He watches wordlessly as you stand, pile the plates atop one another and make for the kitchen. As you place them gently into the sink, you feel the weight of him behind you, reaching over to set the bottles alongside them.

“I ain’t gone anywhere,” he murmurs, and you twist to face him.

“Joel. This is the most we’ve touched in two weeks. Putting dishes in the sink.”

He repeats himself. Adds, “I’m still here. I still care about you.”

You shrug. “Then – show me.”

He steps back. “Show you,” he scoffs. Your expression doesn’t shift. “Show you? Like I didn’t just almost break my damn knuckles defendin’ you? Take you home in the dead a’ night, deal with all your drunk bickerin’?”

Your head tilts. He’s right. But you want more than that. More than spitting threats and leaving flannels behind. You want his hands, and his lips, and his voice. You want –

“…Lord, mighty me.”

Your dad’s voice follows the sudden jolt of the front door opening. You and Joel are already five feet apart by the time his body appears around the corner, one hand leaning on the wall, the other pinching the bridge of his nose.

“How on Earth that man has his own construction company, I have no idea. Called me halfway to the site ‘n said he found the keys in his damn pocket.”

“Always the scatterbrains,” Joel says, leaning casually against the counter.

“Sure is. You ‘n me oughta start our own, show ‘em all how it’s done. Anyways. What’d I miss?”

Before you can answer, Joel’s speaking again. He sounds in a hurry. “Just tidyin’ up. We were talkin’ about graduate programs, actually. You know what,” he turns to you, “I’m sure Sarah has some old brochures from UCLA. Might have some stuff worth checkin’ out. You wanna come get ‘em?”

It takes a second for you to realize he’s talking to you. His eyebrows are arched, his thumb pointing over his shoulder. He came up with the lie so damn quick, you have whiplash.

“I – yeah, sure. Yeah.”

Your dad runs his tongue between his teeth. “UCLA. Huh. Well, don’t keep Joel too late.”

“I w…I won’t,” you reply, following at the heels of the swaggering figure towards the door. You dodge his eye contact and dip your head behind Joel’s shoulder, thankful for his protective stance in front of you.

Your dad doesn’t say anything more – instead, he stands back and lets Joel lead you out. You steal a glance back at him as you slip through the door. His face unreadable, his eyes stick on Joel; locked tight on the flannel wandering down the driveway ahead of you. The word loops in your head as though the phone’s ringing again. Guilty guilty guilty guilty guilt–

But then the night breeze is dancing across your cheeks, and you’re following at the heels of Joel again, and you feel light as air in the wake of him. You climb into the passenger side of the truck and watch as he settles alongside you with a sigh. He pulls out of the drive, and his right hand sits idly on his thigh. You think to take it. Joel reads your mind.

He sits it on the armrest between you, palm facing up. You stare straight ahead and let your fingers slip through his. He knots your bodies together, thumb rubbing gently on your knuckle.

Another pound of weight lifts from your shoulders.

----------

Joel drives for twenty minutes before pulling up in an empty parking lot across from a church. It’s pitch-black and deserted. There’s a single streetlight over by the corner, illuminating a trashcan and not much else. You’re shrouded in darkness, save for the soft glow from the lights on the dash.

He switches the engine off and sits back in his seat. Your hands are separated. The distance between you slowly starts to grow again.

“LA,” he says, for the second time tonight, staring at the ceiling of the cabin.

“LA,” you echo, staring at him.

He looks down to you. Smiles. There’s something behind it. You can’t tell what.

“It’s not a grad job,” you say, forcing something up. Your fingers are twisting around the drawstring of your hoodie. “I was lookin’ at grad stuff, but there wasn’t anything I was into. The LA thing is a six-month temp job I saw.”

Joel nods. “What’s that look like?”

“Production assistant. Lots of behind-the-scenes stuff.”

“Mhm. Sounds like your thing.”

Your brows jump as you pull the tie around your finger. The tip turns white. “Might be. Job ad closes on Monday.”

He sucks in a breath. “Better get applyin’, then.”

Your head cocks. “So eager for me to go?”

“Eager for you to do somethin’ you love,” he corrects.

“But it would get me outta your hair.”

“I don’t want you outta my hair.”

A smirk sneaks its way across your lips. You nod to the view from the windshield. “Why are we way the hell out here?”

“Because your dad bombed our conversation, ‘n I figured we weren’t done.”

“Then talk.”

He licks his lips. Folds his arms, settles deeper into his seat. He turns a little more to face you. The single light from outside catches in his iris, like that same lighthouse beacon you could see earlier. Distant, far off, but there. Still there.

“I owe you an apology,” he says. “I…I thought what we were doin’…What I was doin’…I thought I was causing you more hurt ‘n harm than good. I was scared it’d gone too far. Scared it wasn’t okay anymore.”

“Was it ever okay?”

He shifts again, uncomfortably. In the dim light, you see his face pull. He squints, wobbles his head in consideration. “No. It wasn’t. But we did it anyways, you ‘n me. We made that decision together.”

“Right. And then you went and made the complete opposite decision, alone.”

He’s nodding. He knows. And you think you know, too. It fucking sucked, losing him – but you get it. What was the big plan? How far were you going to let it go? Someone had to pull the plug at some point. Someone had to cut the thing loose.

You lean closer to him. “I just…I wish you’d let me fight back a little. Wish you’d heard me out more. I know what we’ve done isn’t right. I know that. But I – I fucking –”

You sigh. It leaves your mouth shaky and unsure of itself.

There’s something more. Something at the back of your tongue, itching to separate into the dense space between you. Bigger. Stronger. Heavier.

“I missed you,” you concede, shaking your head. “That’s all.”

Joel’s eyes fall shut with a wince when you say it, like it physically hurts to hear the words come out of your mouth. But he’s clearer, now – the fog is slowly shrinking away. The words behind his eyes seem to light them in a warm glow. Missed you too, baby.

His hand opens up on the armrest again. Yours falls into it instantly.

He clears his throat then, and says, “Also owe you an apology for – for the Lois thing. I know I should’ve explained a lot sooner, ‘n I’m sorry I had you thinkin’ what you were thinkin’. I didn’t – I didn’t know it was such a big deal to you. Thought you’d know I wouldn’t…do that.”

“I think I did,” you tell him. Your nails run up and down his fingers. “Deep down. Wasn’t so much about her as it was about me.”

“About you?”

You shrug. “Yeah. Me, us, this. It was more of a, Why wouldn’t he want someone like her?, y’know? No lying, no secrets. And she’s old, like you.”

“Easy.”

You smile. “She’s nice. I know she is. My dad went on for five whole minutes about how good you’d be together when I asked ‘im. So – why wouldn’t you wanna be with her, right?”

It’s rhetorical. Joel knows. But he answers it anyways.

“She is nice,” he agrees, “but I ain’t interested. To tell you the truth, darlin’, I was a little preoccupied worrying my ass off about you to even look twice at the woman.”

You freeze for a second. Stare at the outline of his jaw, the jagged bristles of his beard; the soft sweep of hair silhouetted by the moonlight outside. He’s still Joel – even in the darkness, even in the fog. Even when you can’t see, hear, or touch him – he’s still there. Thinking about you. Worrying about you.

“Well,” you sniff, “you don’t gotta worry anymore. I just…I didn’t like the thought of it.”

His head tilts. Beckons you to continue.

You sigh. “I don’t want you…with…anyone else. I want you to…only want me.”

His brows straighten. You sit in silence, staring at one another. Both daring the other to be the first to talk. But it’s his turn, and he knows it. So he swallows, and says –

“I don’t want nobody else.”

And that’s a thing. A great big, terrible thing.

“But,” he continues, almost immediately, “this has gotta be – I’ve gotta do right by you. Gotta be honest, now –”

“Wait,” you interrupt, “can you just – stop acting like it’s all you?”

Joel falls quiet. His brows knit together.

“Stop saying things that make it sound like you’re the only one in this. I’m in it, too. I want it. I want you.”

“Baby, it’s not as simple as –”

“Joel,” you take his arms and pull yourself closer to him, legs propped against the center console, “I want you. This. I want us. All of it, I want all –”

Your body is being tugged closer to him, lifted nearer, and his chin bumps against yours, and his eyelashes almost brush against yours when your foreheads link, and his breath sweeps hot and needy across yours, and he – he kisses you.

You stop breathing. You don’t care whether or not it ever comes back. Oxygen replaced by him. Everything replaced by him.

His tongue slips past your lips, his hand glides across your hair to cup the back of your head. He locks you into his body, lets you rest your arms across his shoulders. Your lips find a rhythm against one another; warm, wet, tender.

His free hand cups your cheek, holds your mouth to his just a second longer, before he pulls away, and gives you one last kiss. Softest of them all. Seals the fucking deal.

“We okay?” he mumbles, and you lift your head from his palm. You sit frozen for a second, just looking at him. Looking and looking and looking.

“We’re good.”

He smiles then. A genuine smile. “I thought,” he whispers, glancing around the quiet parking lot, “I could take you on a date.”

So that’s why he brought you out here.

“A date?”

“Mhm. Never been on one, have we?”

“Never could.”

He nods in agreement. “Just ice cream. For now. Thought I’d show you some of my moves.”

“You got moves?” you snicker.

“I’m a catch, darlin’. The ladies swoon for me.”

“Alright, never say that to me again.”

Joel laughs. “There’s a place right around the corner. ‘s go.”

He climbs out of the truck and wanders off towards the sidewalk, and you follow. He looks down at you as you walk. His cheeks swell with the smile on his face, dimples at the edges of his lips.

It’s quiet; quieter than you’d expect, not that you’re complaining. With the sun almost set, you’re doused in light only when you wander under a streetlight. So, it’s no surprise when Joel’s eyes quickly scan the street up ahead, and his hand reaches down for yours.

Your stomach flips. You’re doing everything you can not to let him feel your pulse in your wrist, but you’re pretty sure you can, because he leans his shoulder against yours and asks if you’re okay.

“Good,” you choke out, relieved to have just passed a streetlight that might give away the blush on your cheeks.

Approaching on the right is a sickly-sweet, pastel-painted store front; fairy lights decorating the window, wireframe tables and chairs dotted outside. A bell dings when Joel pushes the door open, holding it open for you to step inside.

It’s…dainty. Sweet. Everything is either teal or pink or white. There’s a giant ice cream cone stood in the corner. There’s a gumball machine opposite it. The lighting is a little garish – kind of reminds you of sitting in the dentist chair, eyes squinting up at the bright white light overhead.

You’re fucking surprised to be stood in here with Joel Miller, of all people. He sticks out like a sore thumb; his worn jeans and crumpled flannel against the minty gleam of the parlor like an earthy tree sprouting in the middle of that same dentist’s office. It makes you giggle, as he leads you over to the counter.

A boy with a teal uniform meets him over a glass case full of different ice cream flavors. His name badge reads Ben. “What can I get you?” he asks, scoop in hand. Your lips press against one another to stop your laugh from escaping.

Joel turns to look at you. He nudges you with his elbow when you don’t return his glance, too focused on Ben’s pink baseball cap, the logo of the shop printed on top.

“Uh,” you consider, glancing down, “I’m good with any.”

Joel sighs, lips thinning. “Am I gonna pick a flavor, ‘n then you decide you don’t like it?”

“Nope. Promise.” You smile innocently, and he turns back to the server.

“I’ll take one scoop of the cookie dough, and, uh…one of the coffee, please.”

When Ben dips to scoop the order into two little tubs, you mock gasp at Joel.

“What?”

“Coffee?”

He shrugs.

“I took you for a vanilla man.”

Ben stands straight and punches some numbers into the cash register. Joel hands him a ten.

“What about me makes you think I’m into vanilla?” he asks in a low voice.

You bat your eyelashes at him. A dark thought crosses your mind, but you think better of voicing it and save Ben the embarrassment of potentially hearing you.

Joel thanks him and takes both tubs in one hand. You make for a booth by the window, but his hand quickly slinks around your waist, diverting you back to the door.

“Nuh-uh.”

“What?” you ask, spinning around.

Joel continues walking, backing you out of the shop. “I am not sittin’ in here. Got a fuckin’ headache already from five minutes in the place.”

“But it’s so cute,” you protest, giggling. “You don’t want your picture taken with the giant cone?”

“Get the hell out,” he mumbles, shoving you across the tiled floor back out to the sidewalk. He can’t mask his own grin, spilling out behind you, taking your hand in his.

You snort as he drags you back along the street. “Maybe I should forget about LA and get a job in there. Drive myself insane.”

“Maybe you should,” Joel agrees. “Least then you’d have an excuse for it.”

You slap his chest. “Where are we goin’?”

“’s just go back to the truck. Quieter. Less fluorescent lights.”

He unlocks it a few paces away, but you stroll past your door.

“What are you doin’?” Joel asks when you pull yourself up into the bed.

“C’mon,” you call back, settling against the back window, “it’s a nice night. Who are we hiding from?”

He tosses it over in his head and cocks one eyebrow. Fair enough. He climbs up and passes you the ice cream, shrugging his shirt from his shoulders. He throws it over your bare legs and sits down beside you, grunting as he does.

You smirk when he rests back.

“I’m almost fifty, darlin’,” he warns, reaching for his tub.

Your lips curve and you nod, digging the little plastic spoon into your dessert. You stretch your legs out and cross your ankles, watching in quiet contentment as the cars roll by, squealing to a halt at the traffic lights. Lights are coming on in windows, curtains are being drawn. Joel’s legs lie against yours, joined at the hip, shoulders brushing off one another.

This is the most peace you’ve had in a fortnight. Sat in the back of his truck, no eyes on you, watching the comings and goings of some back street in the city. You talk about nothing, for the first time in what’s felt like forever. You talk about films, and music, and all the stuff that seemed so unimportant before. Now, it all feels imperative. Feels like a life-or-death thing. What’s your favorite movie? You know my favorite movie, baby. But tell me again. Just so I know for sure. Just so that – if anything happens.

You listen when he answers. You watch his mouth as he says the words. For all the times you took it for granted before. For all the times you thought it was insignificant. It’s all significant, now. It all means something. It’s just more strings to the web between you, each one knotting you closer and closer together.

And you talk about what you’ve missed. The two weeks you’ve spent apart. You catch him up as if he was only gone on vacation. As if he was always meant to come back in the end.

“The guy with the weed – same guy you punched – he was –” gulp, “– what was his name again? Knicks? No –”

Joel snorts, spoon scraping around the edge the tiny pot in his huge hand. “Knicks?”

You close your eyes, waving your hand like it’ll urge him to remember the name of a guy he took no time getting to know before he floored him. “No, it wasn’t Kn…Knox! It was Knox, and he –”

“Kind of a fuckin’ name is Knox? Knox?”

“Are you gonna let me talk, or what?” you quip, and Joel brings his wrist up to his mouth to mask his laugh.

“Sorry, sorry, sweetheart. Go ahead. Knox had the weed.”

“Knox had the weed, and…he…Fuck, I can’t even remember where I was goin’ with that.” You shake your head and lean it back against the windowpane.

He laughs. For real. A Joel laugh. His shoulders jerk with the force of it. “You were gonna tell me about his friends, I think. Somethin’ about his friends.”

It sparks back up in your brain – the memory. “Right! Right. His friends – that dude with the glasses? That was Zack.”

Joel stares at you blankly, tongue in his cheek. “Zack?”

“Big guy, red face. Buck teeth. From Costco?”

His jaw slackens. He remembers. “I fuckin’ – I knew I’d seen that kid’s face before. That was him?”

You nod. Uhuh.

“Damn.” He chuckles. “He looked at me like I was a wild bear.”

You toss your head, roll your eyes. “Well.”

He laughs again. Knocks your legs with his own.

“Good call, by the way,” your lips mumble around the shape of your spoon, “cookie dough. it’s nice.”

“Wanna try mine?”

“Really?” Your face contorts, eyes screwing. “Coffee?”

“’s good. Here.”

He holds out a spoonful.

“Yeah, nice to you, who drinks, like, thirty of ‘em a day.”

Joel responds by pushing the spoon to your lips and you oblige, opening up and letting him feed you the ice cream.

It’s not bad. It’s ice cream, it can’t be bad. But it definitely isn’t good, and the way your lips purse and your neck jerks lets Joel know exactly how you feel about it. He scoffs, wiping a little from your lips with his thumb and sucking it clean.

“You don’t like it?”

“Why is it…bitter? Eugh.”

He laughs to himself as he loads up another spoonful. “It’s an acquired taste.”

“Well, I am not interested in acquirin’ it. You want some of the cookie dough?”

He shakes his head. “You enjoy.”

You both turn back to the street ahead. Joel’s arm is warm at the side of yours, his shoulder right there for you to lean your head on.

He places a kiss to your head when you do.

“What do you think he’d do if he found out?”

You’re not sure where it comes from. Neither is Joel, apparently, from the way he clears his throat and squirms ever so slightly. He knows exactly who you mean.

“I, uh…I don’t like to imagine.”

“It scare you?”

He takes a deep breath. “Naw. I just got better things to do with my imagination, is all.” He prods your arm with his. Picturin’ you.

“Ha. You reckon he’d kill you?”

“Probably.”

“He couldn’t kill you. Wild bear.”

“Well, I reckon he might try.”

“I think he’d call the cops.”

Joel’s head lifts from yours and falls back against the truck with a laugh.

“Help, Officer,” you mimic your dad’s twang,“my grown adult daughter is sleeping with someone!”

Joel’s shoulders slowly stop moving.

“Is that all we’re doin’?” he asks.

“Huh?” You lift your head and look at him. His dark eyes reflect the city lights in the distance.

“Is that all we’re doin’? Sleepin’ together?” His voice is gentle, honest. Genuinely asking, seeking out what you think.

You consider it, tryna sound casual. You know what he’s getting at.

“That’s all we’ve been doin’. Help, Officer, my daughter’s grabbing ice cream with someone? Better?”

He hums. Looks down at the empty tub in his hands. Looks back up to your lips. Draws nearer to you, holds your chin with one finger, looks you dead in the eye, and whispers,

“How about, Help, Officer, my daughter made someone fall in love with her?”

Your breath catches. Your hands fall limp into your lap. You blink away tears.

“You – No, that’s – You gotta say it. You gotta actually tell me, ‘cause I’m not – I don’t wanna misinterpret – We haven’t –”

You’re buffering. Your brain malfunctioning. Your tongue can’t decide which of the words at the back of your throat, all desperate to escape, to let through first.

Joel’s just smiling, watching you stutter and stammer your way through a sentence that leads you nowhere, desperately trying to compute what he’s just said because he’s finally fucking admitted it. He’s finally letting you know, giving you access to a part of him he’s been keeping from you for who knows how long.

Even though all this time it’s been the one thought running through your head that hasn’t passed your lips, it reverberates around your ears like it’s the last thing you ever expected him to say.

Joel’s hand moves to your neck, just below your ear. “Baby,” his thumb rubs your skin, “you know I love you.”

A gasp flees from your lips. Your ice cream is thrown to the truck bed, probably spilling over, and you don’t care. You leap into his lap, arms around his neck, and kiss him all over.

Joel’s laughing, returning what kisses he can, squeezing you with his big hands.

“I love you,” he says again when you come up for air, and it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard in your life. You sit your forehead against his, whispering breathlessly,

“Fuck, I love you, too.”

You two stare at each other, eyes scanning every part of the other’s face, mapping every mark, line, scar, like it’s the first time you’ve ever seen each other.

Guess it is, right?

This is the first time you’re looking at the man you love and you’re not afraid of it. The first time your chest swells and you don’t gulp it back, the first time you let him feel your heart pounding against the wall of your chest.

It’s the first time you look into his eyes, dark eyelashes and fine lines decorating deep warm brown, and think those three words…and know you can say them. Know neither of you will be spooked, neither of you will try to push them back down where they came from.

I love you. That’s all there is between you now. Your cards are flat on the table, Joel’s, too. Game over. You know everything there is to know about each other. You know each other.

You’ve sunk down his body, turned so your back curves into his chest, his chin resting on your head. Safely encased in his body, sat between his thighs. His hand runs up and down your thigh, lighting drawing lines and circles and writing words you don’t care to guess, ‘cause you probably already know ‘em.

Love hums between the two of you, keeping you warm; your bodies pressed together, hearts beating just inches apart. You blink your eyes open and the single streetlight sails back into your vision – bright as the moon, stirring you from your tranquil bliss.

“Do you,” you turn, and Joel fixes your hair, presses his lips to your forehead, “do you tell all the girls that on the first date? Was that just one of your moves?”

He snorts, and answers by pulling you in to give you a tender kiss.

No. Just you.

“You ready to go?” he asks when your lips part.

“Mhm. Take me home, cowboy.”

----------

His house is dark against the dusky sky. The headlights illuminate the garage door as he pulls up in the drive, squeezing your hand once as the truck comes to a halt.

“And then…” Joel says, holding a finger up to you. Wait right here.

He gets out of the driver’s side and you watch the shadow of him jog around the truck, stopping at your door. He opens it, and holds a hand out for you to take.

You choke on a laugh. “That is…”

“That is what?”

“…so cheesy. You really do that?”

“Uhuh. C’mon.”

Your fingers lace through his and you hop out of the truck. Joel shuts the door behind you and extends his elbow, and you link your arm through his. His hand warmly rests on top of yours.

You both wander over to his porch where he stops, letting you walk up the steps alone. When you reach the top one, only just taller than him on the path, hands still interlinked, you look down.

“Then I say, Thank you for a lovely evenin’, and,” he lifts your hand, pressing his lips to your knuckles, “then…” Joel holds his arms out. Voila. Just like that.

“Wow. I feel…honored.”

“You should.”

“Not even a proper kiss?”

“I just kissed your hand, baby. You didn’t like that?”

“You don’t ask to come inside?”

He scoffs. “Nope. What would I want to come inside for?”

You grin. Shrug your shoulders. Start walking backward to his door.

“Well, I am exhausted after our date, Mr. Miller. I do think,” yawn, “I should be gettin’ ready for bed.”

Joel lowers his head, eyes trained on you, smirk growing on his lips. “Is that so?”

You nod.

He starts to climb the steps.

“I’m sure I’ll be expectin’ a call from you,” you mewl, exaggerated Southern accent crooning to him. Your back bumps against the front door. Joel’s on the porch now. You bite your lip.

“Oh, I’m sure you will,” he returns, his shadow creeping over you. He reaches your body and his arms come to rest on the frame right above your head.

You hook your hands around his shoulders.

“You really don’t wanna come in?” you whisper, and his jaw ticks.

“I wouldn’t want to be ungentlemanly.”

Leaning in, lips against his ear, you whisper soft enough to shake the breath as it falls from his lips.

“And what if I asked you, nicely, to take me inside and fuck me good ‘n hard until I can’t walk?”

Joel’s eyes pool black when you lean away, head resting back on his door. Your gaze is heavy with lust, eyelashes batting slowly.

“Hm,” he grumbles, body beginning to press against yours. His head cocks. “You don’t wanna be treated like a lady?”

“Nope.” You smirk, hand falling down to cup the bulge quickly forming below his belt.

“Want to be treated like a fuckin’ whore, do ya?”

Chest heaving, you nod, massaging him.

“So dirty, darlin’, feelin’ your date up on the porch,” he tells you, dipping his jaw to run his lips along your neck. “What ‘m I gonna do with you?”

You shrug again, and your fingers find the door handle at your hip. You push, and the wood behind you falls inward.

As you plunge into the dark house, Joel’s rough hands clamp down on your waist, taking you in his tight grip and throwing you against the wall. His lips find your neck, teeth scraping the sensitive skin, tongue caressing tenderly as he sucks a bruise into you. Heat spreads across your core. You clench your thighs around the feeling.

“Joel,” you whine, hands surfing through his hair. “Fuck, take me upstairs.”

He hums. He’s going to. He’s just not doing it quick enough.

You lift your leg to his hip, and his left hand scoops under your ass. He pulls your center flat against the swelling in his jeans, ruts slowly against your body. You hear a deep groan from his throat.

“Upstairs,” you say again, growing impatient, and he growls, taking you with both hands and lifting you two steps at a time towards his bedroom.

He kicks the door open, loosening his grip on you as he walks over to the bed. Light streams across the room in splinters, peering through the shades from the streetlights outside. Your legs drop and you dance along on your toes, turning him midway until his calves hit the bottom of his mattress.

Your lips part for mere seconds, allowing one reflected expression between you, before you’re pushing him by the chest onto the bed. His body springs when he hits the sheets, staring back up at yours between his legs. His breath courses from his mouth, thick with want and need.

You lay him flat on the mattress, knees either side of his waist, hands curved over his shoulders. His own find your waist, holding on tight as you straddle him, playing with the tie of your shorts when you settle.

You dip your head and brush your lips against his. One long, sweet kiss, and his hands are at the hem of your hoodie, pulling it free, lifting it over your head. You groan as it separates your bodies, let your tongue find his again as quickly as it was pulled apart from it.

“Let me see,” he whispers against your lips, hands slipping beneath the fabric of your shorts to rub circles into your hipbones.

You smile as you straighten, fingers dancing along the hem of your tee.

“Let me – see,” Joel grunts, when your core grinds into his.

You peel the tight fabric from your stomach, higher, higher, until it lifts your breasts, catching on the curve of them, and as you whip it over your head, they bounce back down. Joel groans from below, staring at the perfect peaked shape. He lifts one hand to cup your tit, runs his thumb over the quickly-hardening nipple.

“So fuckin’ pretty, baby.”

“I know,” you tell him, watching as his thumbpad circles the delicate skin. Your back arches into his touch.

And then his hands sink into the mattress either side of his body, pushing himself closer to you. He wraps a strong arm around your back and pulls your chest to his mouth, lips pressing wet kisses to the valley between your breasts. His teeth graze across the round shape up towards your nipple again.

His tongue slips over the hard bud, swirling and soaking all over it. Your head falls back, fingers grip onto his hair. Your mouth falls open, but no sound comes. Joel sucks harder.

“S– fuck,” you whisper, nearly voiceless. His tongue is flicking now, lips pulling more of your body into his mouth. “Fuckfuckfuck, I need you, I need you,” you whimper.

He releases your sweet skin, lips shining with saliva. “Tell me where.”

You writhe on top of him, hands pushing your shorts down over your hips. “You know where.”

Joel holds your body steady. “Tell me.”

You whine, trying to rock against him. He doesn’t let up. “Joel, fuck. Betw– between my – fuck.”

“Between your legs?” he taunts, pushing you harder against the hard folds of denim below his belt. “That where you need me? Between those pretty legs, babygirl?”

Your fists ball around the fabric of his shirt, clinging on to him. “Ye-ah,” you whimper, and his weight falls from your grasp.

You feel your shorts tug over the crests of bone by your hips. “Step out of ‘em, baby,” he instructs, and your knee lifts.

He pulls the cotton down one leg at a time, telling you to shift your weight as he curls a finger around the lace of your panties and tugs them down after. Before you can think about it, you’re naked, soaked cunt making a mess over the crotch of his jeans.

He looks up at you expectantly.

“What–?”

He flicks his fingers in a beckoning motion, a Come here, either side of your thighs. You hesitate.

“Darlin’. Up.”

“Joel.”

“Up.”

You take his open hands and shuffle up the mattress, knees pushing into the soft sheets either side of his head. You glance down at him.

“I don’t know –”

“’m not gonna tell you again.”

And he doesn’t have to. You steady yourself, locking your fingers through his behind your ass, and slowly lower yourself down to him. His jaw lifts to meet you, and you think about pausing again, telling him he doesn’t have to do this, asking instead to do something else, something he’ll enjoy as much, something you can both –

But then his lips open around the sweetest part of your body, and your lungs freeze. His tongue slips between, daring where you need him most, and your body sighs in equal parts relief and pleasure.

You’re so fucking wet. You can feel it, leaking onto his lips, spreading around your own as he kisses you, licks you, takes in every drop of you. Your back curls, lips fall open to the ceiling, breath comes in short wisps.

It’s been almost two weeks since the two of you felt like this. Hot, wet, needy. Two weeks of waiting for the other to come back, two weeks of reaching for the phone and deciding against it once the number’s dialed, two weeks of nothing.

And now – everything. Everywhere. Every part of your body ignited for him. You feel him fucking everywhere.

You lean all of your weight onto the palm of your hands, pushing all of it into Joel’s. He’s steady, strong, letting you rock and swirl your hips as he laps at your core.

“Right there,” you whisper, head rolling back. “Keep – keep – oh, fuck, Joel. What the f–?”

He slowly lowers his hands, letting you untangle your fingers and place them on the bed. His own come to hook around your thighs, clamping you as close against him as you can possibly be.

Two weeks of nothing. And now, five minutes of everything. The shards of light from outside blur across your vision; heat starts to prickle up your spine, tickling the back of your neck. You’re smiling, filthy and desperate.

“I’m gonna –” you breathe, and Joel hums. “’m gonna c– come.”

You can hear his response, though he doesn’t say a word. Then, come.

Your hips motion forward. Tighten. Clamp. Inhale. Joel’s tongue slips between your folds, warm on the inside of your cunt. And you rock back. Unwind. Unfurl. Exhale. His bottom lip puckers against your clit.

“J-oel. Joel, I’m – you’re – fuck.”

He moans against your sex. His hips shift behind you. Buck upwards, carefully.

Tighten. Clamp. Inhale. Tighten – inhale. Unwind. Unf-url. Ex-hale. Tighten. Inh– clamp. Fuck. I’m there. Unwind. Warm. Wet. Tongue. Exhale. Tongue. Tighten. Clamp. Inhale. Joel –

Your fingers curl around his bedsheets, nails dig into the cotton. Your orgasm sends a flood of hot pleasure across your cunt, rains down over Joel’s lips, and sets fireworks off through your body which explode into the dark room in the form of a throaty moan.

You’re not sure when you come to. You’re not sure your arms can bear the weight of your body. But when your eyes blink open, he’s kissing the inside of your thighs.

His mouth is glistening. Moustache and beard covered in you. Soft lips pearlescent with your spend. Your body feels heavy, unbearable. You lift your leg and tumble onto the mattress by his side, pussy throbbing when you land.

“I love you,” you whisper, and not for any particular reason. Not because of what he just did. Not because you’re naked in his bed.

But maybe because it feels like this is what you were made to do. To love and to be loved – by him. It feels like this entire thing has been, from its genesis, an exchange. An understanding. Immediate and certain. Here are all the parts of me. You know what to do.

As if there needed no further explanation. No instruction, no tutorial. You just knew.

He pushes himself up, leans over your frame. His jaw lowers, and he licks into your mouth tenderly.

“Gotta be inside you, baby,” he says, and at the same time, your fingers find the buttons of his shirt. “Gotta feel you again.”

You nod against him. Fuck me fuck me fuck me.

Joel’s hands are on his belt, pulling it through the loops, dropping it to the floor. Your help him tug his jeans off when he undoes the button. The material of his underwear rubs against your sex; your creamy arousal smears all over the black fabric. You can feel the weight of his stiff cock beneath. It dizzies your head.

He lets your fingers sneak below the elastic, lowering it until he springs free, slapping against the bottom of his tummy. You could fucking drool at the sight of him – the pink tip, beaded with precum; the thick vein on the underside of the shaft; his balls below it, heavy and waiting. Your hands wrap around him and pump slowly as he drags his boxers down, kicking them off at the foot of the bed.

He groans, hips thrusting gently into your palms as you squeeze him. Your fingers slip between your folds, collecting your own slick, coating him in it as you fist him.

“So good, babygirl,” Joel breathes, leaning down to kiss you. “You gonna take it all?”

“Mhm,” you reply, tongue slipping against his.

“Yeah,” he says, “my girl can take it.”

You let his hand shadow over yours, the two of you guiding his cock towards your entrance together. It glides between your dripping folds, the head sifting effortlessly from your clit to your tight hole and back again. Joel laughs, teeth clashing with yours, as he dips in and out, teasing you.

Your ass lifts from the mattress, any movement to draw him nearer. “Stop,” you gasp.

Joel pauses. “Stop?”

“No,” you bleat, “don’t stop. Just – fucking do it.”

“Do what, darlin’?”

“Fuck me.”

And he sinks in.

You’d be lying if you said all you’d done for the last two weeks was cry, mope, and stare at the ceiling. That’d be discrediting everything that this little affair was built on. It’s impossible to forget how the thing fucking started – your hands between your legs, Joel watching from the doorway.

In the moments you didn’t feel the mind-numbing tsunami of heartache overcome you – you felt something else. Memories of his hands on you, the trail of his tongue between your legs, the swell of his cock deep inside you. You tried to replicate it a handful of times with your hands. But nothing – not your fingers, not two, three, or four – nothing stands a chance against him.

He pushes in slow at first, drawing out when he’s halfway, and then in again as he covers himself in the wet his tongue left behind. When he’s soaked, glistening and gleaming, he thrusts. Hard. His tip catches on your cervix, and your back arches in a mix of pain and delight.

Something throbs deep inside as he bottoms out. You feel your opening stretch around his base. You feel your legs widen as if by instinct, accommodating the size of him, the width of him, the pace of him.

You throw an arm over his shoulder, elbow hanging on the nape of his neck. His sweaty forehead sticks to yours, and your hand cups his cheek.

“Harder,” you tell him, and he listens.

“Fuck, baby,” he pants, “fuck, you’re so tight. Oh, my – I ain’t gonna last.”

“Don’t – want you – to,” you cry, body jumping as he fucks you quicker, quicker, harder, deeper. “Want to – come – together.”

Your head tips back against the bed, and Joel’s lips attach to your neck. He’s moaning into your skin, teeth biting down, breath hot and quick. He’s not gonna last he’s not gonna last he’s not –

“F-u-ck, Joel,” you sob, your walls starting to close in around him, “feels so – f-fucking good, oh!”

“I know, darlin’, I know. C’mere.”

He takes your cheek and pulls your face back to his, lines his lips with yours and kisses you. It’s messy, haggard, fucking all over the place as your bodies bounce together, but he tastes like sweat, and sex, and you, and him.

“Missed this so fuckin’ much,” he grunts, hips pounding. “Missed bein’ inside you. You know how bad I needed you?”

“Tell me,” you slur, echoing his own words back to him.

He smirks. “Best fucking pussy I ever had, sweetheart. Best – I ever – had.”

“Don’t pull out,” you hum against his lips, and his jaw pulls back a fraction. “Don’t.”

“Baby,” he says, strained, and your head tilts.

“Need it,” you tell him. “Please. Need you.”

He nods, leaning back into you, letting you connect your mouths again. His lips shudder when you pull away, the thought translated clear as day from your mouth to his. And he knows, and he drives in harder, and he fucks the image from your mind. Who the fuck is Lois, when you’re under him and he’s this deep between your legs?

You look up into his eyes, and you find your answer. She’s nobody. There’s only you.

Your body feels liquid, your mind like fog. You pull him into your body, deeper and deeper, until you’re sure you’re one, and there is no place where he ends and you begin, and you’re sure this is what it feels like, this is what those words feel like, not just the sound of them, not just the way his lips move around them, but the shape of them on and in and around your body. Something deafening, something blinding, something screaming from the pits of your lungs as you come all around him, and you feel him come all around you.

His warmth spurts deep inside you, filling you up, dripping down your walls as he collapses into your shoulder, a loud moan drilling into your collarbone. He slows, thrusts in and out gently, pushing his spend deeper and mixing it with yours.

It's everywhere. The feeling. The pulsing, the humming, the singing. He’s everywhere. Him. In your brain and in your lungs and in your body and in your cunt. And you want to keep him there, hold him there, keep your bodies together for five more minutes, just five more minutes.

But then he’s panting into your skin, pressing kisses into that little dip between your collarbone and your chest, and he slowly slips out, come dripping from where he leaves.

He presses his palm deep into the sheets by your head, lifts off of you – but your arm is still around his neck, and you lean with him. Tilted on his mattress, holding onto him, letting him kiss your head; letting his hand move across the surface of your stomach, mapping the gentle slope over your belly button and scaling the tiny mountains of your hipbones. Kneading softly into the skin over which his seed sits, warm and snug, deep inside you. It’s new. You think you love it.

And he’s whispering, “Good girl, did so good for me,” and he nuzzles his nose into your hair, and he tilts your chin back until he can see your face, see your expression, and he smiles with relief when he clocks your doe eyes, your blissful smile, the sweet tinge of red on your cheeks.

“I love you,” he tells you, and you’re staring at his lips.

“Again.”

“I love you.”

You look up to his eyes. “Again.”

“I love you.”

You smile. It breaks into a laugh. “Again,” you whisper, and he kisses you.

Slowly, only once you pull away from him and your breath steadies, Joel takes your body and carefully shifts. He turns onto his back, settles you on his chest, your hips between his thighs. He runs a gentle hand over your hair and you lie against his sweat-shining chest, his heartbeat whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

Love and sex, as far as you knew, were always two different things. Separate. One, you weren’t even sure existed. The other, nothing more than a need to be satisfied. Something deep within you, something no one had ever managed to touch. And then Joel. And his lips, and his tongue, and his hands and his cock.

And suddenly the two – love and sex – begin to blur, their edges touch frantically. They bleed into one another, until there are no longer two distinct forms; instead, one big shape which has the curve of your hips and the cut of his jaw.

You love him. And he loves you. You’ve heard it translated between your minds longer than you care to admit, and now – you’ve felt it. Transferred between your bodies. You love him. Jesus, you love him.

It’s as terrifying as it is thrilling. Enamoring, and yet dangerous.

“So,” you sigh, “what’s next?”

He glances down, lifts his eyebrows and gives his head a shake. His hand lifts off of your shoulder with a shrug.

“Like, your next move. What happened with the other eight?”

“The other eight?”

“Mhm. Me, Sarah’s mom, makes two. There are eight others, right? What’d you do afterward?”

“Kicked ‘em out.”

You lift a heavy hand and slap his chest. He shudders with laughter.

“I dunno, baby. Wasn’t all like this.”

Your brows knit. “Like what?”

He takes a deep breath. Your head rises as his lungs fill. “Lyin’ in bed afterward. Talkin’.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“What?” he asks, smirking.

“Who even were they? I wanna know.”

“Why?”

“Just do. I wanna hear about ‘em. When was the last one, before me?”

Joel’s eyes drift off to the ceiling above you, thinking. “May.”

“M–?” You jump up, pushing yourself off of his body. “May?” you repeat, eyes wide. “That’s…so recent.”

“Recent?” He chokes back a laugh. “When’s your last?”

You furrow your brows, dropping his gaze. “We’re not talking about me,” you mumble, thumbs twiddling.

Your last had been two nights before you flew home. You’d gone out with your roommates and dragged home Matteo, an exchange student who you’d worked with on a group project for your screenwriting class. He was three inches shorter than you. He bent you over your kitchen counter and fucked you until he came. Then he made himself some cereal, ate half of it, and left.

Joel doesn’t really need to hear about him, you think.

“Do I know any of them?” you ask in attempt to change the subject.

Joel pulls a face. His lips tighten, teeth clench. His eyes narrow to a thin line, looking at you through his eyelashes. He nods tentatively.

“Shut the fuck up. Who is it? Who?”

“I dunno if you know her, but she knows you.”

“What’s her name?”

“Your dad gave us a ride home from the bar. She ‘n him got to talkin’, and he said he had a daughter –”

Your fist lightly drops onto his chest. “Joel, if you don’t fucking tell me who it is, I –”

“She’s an elementary teacher. Long, dark hair. Good few years older ‘n you. Think she said her little sister went to your school.”

“Who – was – it?”

He makes the face again. This time his eyes close over, waiting for the penny to drop. His head shakes lightly.

“You –? No, Joel. Come on. Please don’t…Are you fucking serious? You don’t remember her name?”

“It was a long night, alright?”

“How did you forget her damn name?”

He shrugs. “I don’t fuckin’ know. I was drunk, baby.”

“Elementary teacher? I don’t know anybody whose sister teaches elementary.”

“Guess we’ll never know.” Joel shrugs, and you shake your head at him.

You’re picturing Joel stumbling out of Frank’s, arm in arm with a brunette, heavy feet dragging along the sidewalk while your dad chitters in his ear about the Rangers, or about some rude bartender, or about…you. The brunette turns, and her face is yours. Your features, your smile. Your hand linked through Joel’s. C’mon, baby. ‘s go home.

You chase the image away. It slips from your mind like dust cleared from a countertop. Would never. Could never. Should never.

You replace it with something lighter. Something to make you forget about the dust.

“Does…Does my dad ever go home with anyone?”

“What?”

You don’t answer. He heard you.

“That’s…No. I ain’t answerin’ that.”

“Oh, come on. If you’re takin’ women home left, right, and center, he’s gotta be seein’ that. Does he?”

“I was not takin’ home women left, right, and – No, darlin’, no. It’s inappropriate.”

“Yeah, you’re right. And I’m known for my appropriate behavior, y’know,” you gesture between your naked bodies, “I’m known for the good life choices I make.”

“This,” Joel hooks his hands under your arms and drags you up until your chin meets his, “is a good life choice.”

“Yeah?” you ask through a giggle, your nose bumping his.

Joel smiles softly, runs a hand over the back of your head. Looks between your eyes, a twinkle in his. Yes.

Your lips crash together like waves on the rocks. You’re the sea; he’s the stone. Two different worlds, suddenly married in some unforeseen twist of nature. And when you pour over him, your body lighting him in a twinkling glow of ocean, it’s as though you never existed apart from one another. It’s as natural as the waves on the shore.

“Alright, darlin’,” Joel mumbles against your skin. “Speakin’ of inappropriate. I gotta get you home.”

“Why can’t I just stay the night?” you complain. “Like last time. Tell ‘im we’re watchin’ a movie again…”

Joel’s head rests on your arm. “He’s worried sick about you. Ain’t no way he’ll let you spend the night here. You know that. Plus, Sarah’ll be long done with Rita’s cross stitch by now.”

He sits up and you roll into his lap, head resting on the soft skin of his belly. He looks down at you, head tilted, eyes glowing hazel.

You stare right back. The dimples in his cheeks dig deeper when you whisper, “Kickin’ me out right after we finally make up. I see how it is, Miller.”

Joel’s shoulders hunch. “Happens to all of ‘em. Warned ya.”

He shifts off the bed and begins gathering his clothes. You sit up and watch as he pulls his boxers snug over his hips, swipes his tee from the carpet at his feet. As he drapes it over his scruffy chest, your half-naked form meets his at the foot of the bed.

His fingers knot in your hair. You lean into his arms, legs giving as he kisses you gently, breathing you in, stealing any more words of protest from your tongue.

“I love you,” he whispers when he pulls away, tip of his nose brushing off yours. “You know that?”

“Somebody told me somethin’ to do with that, yeah.”

He smiles. “Get dressed.”

You pull the rest of your clothes back on in silence, tossing socks and jeans across the room to one another, giggling like a pair of kids. After all you just did, the palpable pleasure you just sent hammering through one another – this is the part you wish you could bottle. The laughter, the love. The attempts to keep holding onto him, even as he tries to pull his arm through the sleeve of his shirt, even as he links his belt back through his jeans, as he bends to tie his boots.

The fun of it. The hope of it.

The foolish, foolish hope.

“Hoodie.” Joel flings it up towards you, crouched as he tightens his laces.

You pull it on over your bra. Flatten your flyaway hairs, stand straight before him.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

“You got your phone?”

Your hands instinctively pat your body down. “Oh, nah,” you realize, “musta left it at home.”

Joel nods and heads into the hallway, you at his heel. At the bottom of the stairs, you glance around his house, like it’s the first and last time you’ll see it wrapped into one. It looks different; two weeks of absence and you notice things you hadn’t before.

His coat hanging by the door, probably untouched since early spring. The bowl on the side table where his and Sarah’s keys live. The guitar in the corner of the room, the books in the shelves above it. All him. Every little piece of it. He’s reflected in every object in the room. He’s reflected in you.

You drive back to your dad’s place in silence. Comfortable, sweet silence. Your fingers ghost across his palm the entire time, watching out the window as the dark neighborhood soars by in a blur of porch lights and mailboxes. All too quickly, you’re back in front of your own house.

“What do we do now?” you ask, and through the darkness you see Joel’s smile fall.

After a moment’s silence, heavy and contemplative, he looks back up. Softens when his eyes land on you.

“We’ll be alright,” he tells you, and you believe him.

You lean forward and press a quick but tender kiss to his lips, and your fingers latch around the door handle. Joel’s hand finds the back of your head, keeping your mouth on his.

“Gotta – let me – go,” you mumble between kisses, and he hums a laugh in response. “Joel.”

“I know,” he whispers, finally pulling back. “I know.”

You smile, head tilting into his palm. “I’ll text you.”

He nods once. “See you, babygirl.”

You slip out of the truck and wander past to your front door, twirling as you click the handle. Joel laughs, and the truck reverses back onto the street. You wait for it to disappear before closing the door, and step into the unlit hallway.

The TV lights the living room at the opposite end. You stop by the kitchen, feeling the grumpy rumble of your stomach. Your dad’s armchair is sat facing the screen. You lean over to double check he’s not sat in it, fast asleep while Rangers highlights play on loop before his eyelids.

When you swivel the plaid pattern towards your knees, its only occupant is the remote. You flick the TV off and pad back over to the kitchen, filling a bowl with some chips. You’re hunched over at the refrigerator when his footsteps clunk slowly down the stairs, and he materializes like a specter around the doorway.

“Hey.”

You straighten up, lit in a nervous blue hue from the fridge. “Hey, yourself.”

“Joel gone?”

“’bout ten minutes ago. Where’ve you been? You left the TV on.”

“Just…y’know. You get those brochures?”

Fuck. You were at Joel’s under the premise of picking up fucking UCLA pamphlets – and you’ve come home empty-handed. The lie doesn’t form on your tongue as quickly as Joel’s did earlier. Something else on your mind.

“…sure. Some…interesting stuff.”

Your dad nods. “Good. Good, I’m glad. We can take a look in the mornin’.”

Your eyebrows flinch. “Yeah. That’d be – yeah. I’m…gonna head to bed, alright?”

“Sure,” he says, nodding.

With a can of soda under your arm and your bowl of chips in the other, you nod and cautiously shuffle towards him. His lips are a thin line. You duck by him and trot upstairs, and make it as far as the landing before he’s calling out again.

“Oh, hey.” He holds a hand out, and disappears in a jog towards the living room. You drop back down a couple steps, watching him swipe something from the dining table and pace back over. “You left your phone.”

He’s presenting it like a jeweler shows a Rolex – or maybe more like an investigator handles evidence. Holding it out in almost trembling fingers, afraid to mark it with his fingerprints. Your eyes flit from the phone to his, unsure which of the two frightens you more.

That’s not where I fucking left it.

You lean over and take it from his palm. “Thanks…”

“I think maybe you got a text, just then. It was lit up. Maybe I’m seein’ things.”

You force the corners of your mouth upward. Your cheeks inflate with nerves and shame. “Thanks,” you repeat, and then: “Everything okay, Dad?”

“Everything’s fine, kiddo. Sleep well.” He makes back for the living room.

As you turn, you unlock your screen.

Joel: Left your shirt here, and your bikini from last week. This mean I get to be the one wearing your clothes now?

Panic spills over your head, a wave of freezing cold washing over you when you read his words. Did Dad read them, too?

You continue walking, feeling the weight of your dad’s strange voice on your back as your feet drag you one by one up the stairs. When you make it back to the landing, your cool flees you, and you take the rest of them two at a time until you’re leaning against your bedroom door, panting.

You: Problem. I think my dad saw that text

Joel: How so?

You: When I got home my phone was next to his chair, and he’s being so weird

You: Joel I think he knows something

Joel: I’m sure he doesn’t. He wouldn’t read your phone baby.

He’s trying to reassure you, telling you he wouldn’t even know what it means, maybe he’ll think you spilled something on it, but no matter how many ideas Joel comes up with, none of them slow your heart rate.

You sit down on the edge of your bed, and the anxiety bubbling in your stomach forces you straight back up. Pacing doesn’t help, knowing your dad is directly below you probably hearing the floorboards creak with every step you take.

Your head dizzies with doubts, fears, worries, all frantically throwing themselves against the walls of your skull. You lean your forehead against the cold glass of your window, eyes screwing shut, stars in your vision. Nothing is calming you down.

Joel takes too long to reply back, whether he’s running out of explanations or just fucking forty-eight with an iPhone, but every time your phone buzzes with a new attempt at comfort from him, it only convinces you even more that – no, it wasn’t a stain, it wasn’t a joke, Joel has your top because you took it off for him an hour ago, and then let him fuck you in his bed.

And your dad fucking knows it.

[ghostbsuter]

Batclan and Catband (part 2)

> previous part

> next part

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Dinner ended up a relatively calm affair, or as calm as it can be with the batclan and the cat catband in one place.

"Where is elle actually?" Selina asks, leaning on the table with a grin.

"With her aunty harley and pam," he answers, phone in hand. "They're bringing her over soon, tho."

Dick, sitting opposite of Danny, perks up at that. "Your daughter, right? How old is she?"

The teen practically glows at the question, proud and not far from showing it.

"Become 2 recently! A gremlin in sheep clothes, truly. She knows how to get what she wants, a habit learned from her glam glam." At the last words, he gives catwoman the stink eye, huffing when she laughs at him.

"I have been wondering, how old are you, danny? If you don't mind." Bruce has an easygoing smile on, but Danny knows that glint in his eyes.

"Also freshly turned 18."

Both Selina and Danny watch the other man carefully, one hiding her sharp stare, the other openly showing it.

"Isn't that a bit young to become a single parent?" The man asks in concern, no matter he should be with emotions, mother and son recognise the tone of worry and relax slightly.

"Her circumstances of appearing in our life is not much to be desired. However, we are very happy with her joining our little family at that time."

Danny speaks fondly, smiling as he recalls the moments. "Selina helped immensely when needed and didn't shy from showering the little gremlin in love"

While the batclan would have loved to continue the conversation, Alfred appeared with a gentle smile.

"Master Danny, there is a guest waiting patiently at the front door for you, I'm afraid she might just run off with no one watching." He gives a very amused look at the members of the table.

He shoots out of his chair, letting the butler lead him out and about.

Once the teen is gone, does Bruce straighten his form and look at selina.

"What about the mother? Is there anything—"

"I'll stop you right there, bat dear." She holds up her hand, giving a sharp smile.

"While I'd rather not talk behind Danny's back like this," she gives the table a look, noting that every member seems to be in their vigilante persona.

"Elle doesn't have a mother, I won't explain any details without Danny's consent, but this is more of a Kon-El situation."

(Bruce, in particular, doesn't like how that info makes everything else snap into place, and the final picture isn't much better.)

"Kon-El situation– isn't she a toddler??"

"Why would anyone go for danny??"

"Was it Lex Luthor–?!"

Their questions were silenced by the sound of tiny footsteps running to the door and swinging it open with no grace.

The tiny being runs around the table, peeks over it to see where a certain woman is located at and sprint to her lap.

The father of said being isn't far from her, making sure she doesn't trip nor fall. Alfred closes the doors and flawlessly slips next to Bruce, the amused smile very much still present.

"Glam glam!" The tiny girl squeals excited, getting pulled up and seated, just in sight of everyone else.

She is like a carbon copy of her father, minus the gender, but at the stares she becomes quite shy, very endearing.

Danny sits next to them, grin on his face and gesturing to the batclan.

"Wanna meet your uncles and aunts, elle darling?"

[auteurdelabre]

Palpation - RMTJoel!Miller x f!Reader - 18+

Rating: 18+

Summary: You need a massage and thankfully a new place opened up a few blocks away… There you’re introduced to the deliciously professional RMTJoel!Miller. He makes you feel good… maybe too good?  (AU - NO OUTBREAK)

Words: 6.8k

Tags: RMTJoel!, unprofessionalism in the workplace, power imbalance (kinda?), consent king, massage (external and internal heh heh I'm so dang funny), soft!Joel, public sex, fingering, handjob. 

a/n: Went for a massage at the spa (thanks to a thoughtful xmas gift!) and came up with this idea. I wanna make it REAL clear that this is FANTASY. Meaning RMT’s ain’t there to be sexualized. It’s all for the sensual fun of this story, but in no way should this EVER happen in real life. Alright, onto the smut.  

===========================================

Palpation

"You need to see a massage therapist."

"No I don't," you insist scowling at your roommate Pam as you come hobbling across the room to sit next to her, pizza box in hand.  

"It's been a week of you complaining about a sore back you got... How again?"

"Sneezing," you mumble with a frown. Pam opens the pizza box and you two grab a slice. Nothing to remind you of your age like pulling a muscle sneezing. 

"A massage place just opened up a few blocks away last month. I saw it when I was getting groceries," Pam says pulling up her phone and typing quickly. "It's called ... Mill."

"Sounds pretentious." 

"Looks gorgeous."

"Any reviews?"

"Yeah like sixty," Pam says sounding impressed. "Place has a 4.9 out of 5 on Google."

"Probably paid for them," you murmur, wiping your greasy fingers on your napkin. 

"There are photos," Pam says. "This place looks stunning."

She holds up her phone and you swipe through several images of beautiful pristine rooms with the luscious looking massage tables. It's like through the phone you can smell lavender and hear gentle wind chimes playing. 

"I've never been for a massage before," you say with a nervous glance back at her face. "Laying naked on scratchy sheets while some random person is touching me all over gives me the creeps."

"They're professionals," Pam says rolling her eyes and smirking. "They change sheets between clients and you wear as many clothes as you feel comfortable in."

Hmm. You didn't know that. 

You consider this proposition as you flip through what to watch on Netflix. You have to admit that the idea of a massage sounds appealing after a solid week of being in pain and hunching when you walk. Pamela gloms onto the fact that you're being swayed. 

"Okay I'm booking you in with the person all the reviews recommend" Pam says typing away. 

"Guy or girl?"

"Guy."

"Oh."

"What?"

You wince. "Isn't it weird for a guy to massage a girl?" 

"I get massages from guy massage therapists all the time," Pam says rolling her eyes at you. "It's

only weird if you make it weird." 

///

This was a terrible fucking idea. 

As soon as you walk through doors of "Mill" a week later you feel out of place. Beautifully carved doors and sumptuous looking couches decorate the front room. It smells like heaven in here, warm and fresh. Everything is so fancy.

You are not fancy. 

You are anxious. 

You've shaved every part of your body in a panic that morning, unsure if this is the correct protocol. What if they get grossed out by massaging body hair? What if your skin is too dry? What if your back is disgusting? You've never really looked at it that closely. 

Pam told you they don't care, that they see actually gross shit every day and that your body will be a welcome change of pace. But you don't trust her because Pam also told you that you could pull off red leather pants in college.

She was definitely wrong about that.

A pleasant woman of about fifty sits at the front desk typing away. When you approach she smiles brightly at you.

"Hello welcome to Mill. Do you have an appointment?"

"Yeah, hi, I'm here for the four pm," you say softly. This place is so serene it feels weird to speak louder than a whisper.

"And with which massage therapist?"

"Uh, I'm not sure, my friend booked it." 

"Not a problem," the receptionist says with a bright smile as she passes you over a clipboard with a sheet and pencil attached to the clasp. "Just fill this in."

You look over the intake form, blown away by all the questions asking about everything from allergies to if diabetes runs in the family. You fill this in swiftly; your eyes darting to the clock over the door leading to what you assume are massage rooms. You've got ten minutes. You lick your lips nervously and go back to the form. You turn the page over, circling on the diagram of the human body where your pain is. 

The last part is a yes or no checkbox. 

1. I bruise easily

No.

2. I sleep 8+ hours a night

Fuck I  wish. Nope. 

3. I have back problems

Seems like a stupid question on a massage form. But yes, obviously. 

4. I am satisfied sexually 

Your pencil hovers over that question as your cheek heats up. You know it's asking you this for medical reasons but it still makes you feel embarrassed when you tick off: "No". 

You finish the rest of the check boxes and then return the sheet and clipboard back to the woman. She gives you a smile and indicates behind you. 

"Take a seat and he'll call you in."

You slip back into one of the oversized chairs as a beautiful black woman with heels walks in. She swishes by you with a smile before turning her attention to the receptionist. 

"Hi, I have a four o'clock with Tommy."

"Perfect, I'll let him know." 

The woman takes a seat next to you in one of the chairs typing. She's stunning with long legs and glossy black braids. Her large almond eyes drift over to you. 

"Have you been here before?"

You shake your head. "No, have you?"

"No but my co-workers wouldn't stop talking about it," she says with a laugh. "I figured what the hell, ya know?"

"My roommate booked the appointment for me," you tell her grinning. "The thought of-"

Before you can finish your thoughts a voice reaches out. 

"Maria?"

A handsome man pops out from around the door, glancing to the other woman and you're struck by how muscular he is. How glossy his dark hair is and how his pants fit him just right. 

Thank Christ he's not my massage therapist. I would not be able to have his hands on me. 

"Maria?"

"Hi," the girl says and you can see she has been similarly affected. If she was a cartoon there would have been steam coming out of her ears. 

"Hi, I'm Tommy," the man says with a charming smile as Maria pulls her purse to her shoulder. "Follow me to room 1."

Maria stumbles after Tommy's disappearing figure but not before shooting you a look over her shoulder and mouthing "What the fuck?" 

You hold in a giggle as the door closes. You pull out your phone hurriedly composing a text to Pam. 

[3:58pm] You need a massage with a guy named Tommy here. Definitely your type. 

You scroll back through a few work emails distracted until the door to the hallway opens with a creak. 

A deep voice says your name and your glance up from your phone just in time to see a tall man with the sweetest smile you've ever seen standing in the doorway holding a clipboard. His dark curls are brushed back, threaded with silver. 

Please no. He can’t be for me. He’s even hotter than the other one!

"Hi I'm Joel," he says extending a hand out to you as you stand and approach him. "I'll be your therapist today." 

Shocked, you just stare at how long the fingers are, how broad the palm is that leads up to forearms and biceps just meant to squeeze. The white t-shirt he wears literally strains over his broad shoulders and biceps. And then you see it, the small dimple in his right cheek over a neatly trimmed beard. Your heart actually flutters at the sight of it. 

He's fucking gorgeous. 

And just as that thought registers with you, a dawning horror begins to flood your senses. 

There's no way you're getting a massage from him. He's going to touch your almost naked body? He's going to be so... Close? Rubbing?! Just looking at him is causing a heartbeat to begin between your legs. 

You still haven't reached out to shake his hand and Joel takes it back quickly, looking embarrassed. 

"Follow me to room four."

On shaky legs you stumble after him in much the same way Maria did after Tommy. You watch the way his body moves so languidly, graceful despite his size. You try to ignore the twitch of his tight ass as he moves, willing yourself to focus on the artwork gracing the walls or observing how clean everything is.

Once inside the small space you take a chance to look around. It's simple, pristine white with dark grey floors. The walls hold pictures of nature, a horse walking through the forest. It's very calming to look at.  It also smells divine in here, like a spring meadow. But you're not sure if it's the room or the man in the room with you. 

You stroke the soft blanket overtop the expensive looking massage table, stilling in surprise as you feel its warmth. Joel is seated on a small rolling stool and he grabs a pen from behind his ear. 

"So what brings you in today?" 

"Is this blanket heated?"

"Uh," Joel looks confused at your response. "Yes."

"Jesus," you whistle impressed before you realize he's asked a question "Oh, I, uh, I've been having some back stuff lately."

"Work related injury?" He asks, pencil poised above your intake form on his clipboard. 

"No."

"Did it come on suddenly?"

Do not tell him the truth. 

"I was playing basketball and I wrenched it," you tell him airily as if innate athleticism is just one of your many gifts. 

"Where exactly?" Joel asks coming to a stand and walking over to you. You try not to shake as he approaches. He tucks the pencil behind his ear and the clipboard under his arm. 

"Uh, here," you say turning from him and pointing to your lower back. You face the wall surprised to see a mirror there. You see Joel in the reflection and watch his face turn studious as he stares at your lower back. 

"Is it alright if I touch you for the assessment?" Joel says, eyes scanning down your back. You swallow. 

“Sure.”

Please touch me everywhere. 

Wait. When did that happen? When did the thought of Joel touching you go from terrifying to enticing? 

You feel his large forefinger skate down your spine and dip to the dimple at your lower back. You inhale sharply, thighs pressing together tightly trying to tamp down the pleasured shiver that wants to take you over. 

You see Joel's dark eyes dart to the mirror looking concerned as he meets your gaze in the reflection.  

"You okay? That hurt?"

"No," you reply confused. "Why?"

"You're tremblin'." 

He pulls back obviously concerned he's pressing too hard and you pray he doesn't notice your cheeks heating. 

"No uh, just a little cold." You give a shaky laugh. "Good thing you have a heated blanket."

Joel gives a little half smirk and turns, pulling the pencil from behind his ear once more. 

"Psoas major," he murmurs, making a note on his clipboard. "Pretty common for low back pain. Gonna start in the mid back and work my way down. Then I like to end with you facing up so i can get at those neck muscles. That work for you?"

"Yep." 

"Great, just need you to sign this consent form."

He holds it out to you and you give it a cursory glance before scrawling your signature at the bottom. At this point you're willing to sign your voice away to a sea witch if it means getting Joel's hands on you quicker. 

"Alright now, I'm gonna step out for a few so you can undress and get up on the table under the sheet. I'll knock before I come in. Alright?"

"Okay."

He gives a small smile before moving past you out the door, closing it behind him. He smells amazing. It's not the room smell. You can't place it but its warm and masculine and... 

Oh fuck you're supposed to be getting undressed. 

You hurriedly strip until you're in nothing but your underwear. You place all your things on the chair near the door. After a pause you move your bra underneath the pile. 

You pull yourself up on the massage table maneuvering yourself until you're breast and belly down with your head nestled in the tufted face hole of the table.  

You pull the warmed top sheet up to your neck and are amazed at how relaxed you already are. Maybe Pam was right maybe you have needed a massage all this time. You could drift off right here. 

Tap tap.

"You ready?"

Your heart slams against your ribcage. That beautiful man is going to touch you. Rub you with oil with those big delicious looking hands of his. 

"Uh, yeah ready," you call out in a strangled voice. 

Calm the fuck down. 

You hear the door open and close. All you can see face down is the hardwood floor. The lights dim and your straining ears hear the sound of Joel tapping on his phone. Soft meditation -like music fills the room and you take a deep breath as his voice murmurs next to you. 

"That okay?"

"Yep."

He could play Scottish fucking bagpipes for all you care. You just want him to touch you.

"Your form says you've never had a massage before," Joel says quietly and you see his shoes underneath the table. Basic white Tom's should not turn you on the way that they do right now. 

"No."

"Alright well just so you know, the next part is I'm gonna lower the sheet to your comfort level and then we can start. Yeah?"

"Yep."

The shoes are gone from your vision and you feel him drag down the blanket over your naked back until it rests low on your spine, just at the start of the swell of your ass. You suddenly wish you had cuter underpants on. 

"This alright?"

"Yep."

Your eyes blow wide when he tucks it lightly in around your hips. 

"Let's get started."

At the first touch of his hand on your spine, you twitch, your nervous body over stimulated by the situation alone. Joel's hands are off you completely, his voice concerned. 

"Whoa, you okay?"

"Yeah sorry," you say with a breathless laugh. "Wasn't ready I guess."

Joel chuckles and it's a rich, delicious sound that makes your stomach flip.

 "That's okay, shoulda gave warnin'. Startin now."

His hands alight to your midback pressing lightly. He does this down your spine to warm you up, he tells you. You don't care what he does. You'd happily become a human pretzel if it meant having Joel's hands on you. 

The hands retreat and then there's the sound of lotion being squeezed and Joel rubbing his hands together. Those big, broad hands. You're so thankful he can't see how red your face is. 

Joel begins between your scapula, his wide hands smoothing over your muscles with expert care. At first you're nervous when his hands touch places that have been overlooked for months by previous partners, but soon you allow your eyes to shut and your breathing to even out. 

His hands go to your spine before Fanning out over your shoulder blades. The sensation is so fucking good, so tender. He rubs a knot there and you hiss with pleasure at the feeling of it being worked. 

"Tell me if the pressure is too hard," he breathes. 

"I actually like it hard."

The minute you say it you cringe. Why did that sound sexual? Because Joel is hot ? Because you're horny? Pamela's words float through your consciousness. 

It's only weird if you make it weird.

Just relax. Ignore it. He's not saying anything. You try to pretend you didn't say something asinine and just close your eyes. 

His oiled hands move down your spine, coming to press at your lower back, the problem area. Joel applies pressure gingerly before his thumbs begin to knead into the deep muscles there. 

At first it hurts but you remain silent, needing it to continue. After the initial throbbing ebbs you relax into it, feeling the muscle relent under his talented fingers. The release feels so good that you actually sigh out loud. 

"Ah, there we go," Joel purrs in a voice so husky you feel your panties physically dampen. 

His hands move lower, fingers grazing just under the waistband of your panties as he massages your lower back, taking his time on the problem areas you mentioned.

It feels like heaven. 

Somewhere around the midway mark you feel so relaxed that you actually drift off, carried away by Joel’s touch amongst the scent of sandalwood and the sound of flutes. 

You shift awake when you hear Joel's raspy voice in your ear. You have no idea how much time has passed. 

"Alright, gonna get you to turn over onto your back for me. I'll turn around." 

You do as he says still partly drowsy, your whole body feeling warm and boneless. You roll over, sliding down the table a bit and tugging the blanket up until it covers your breasts. You secure it under your arms. 

Your eyes crack open to see Joel turned away from you. His broad back is smooth under his shirt and from this angle you see his tight ass through his pants. He's like a Greek god in a white cotton t-shirt. 

You hope you don't have ugly lines on your face from the hole but you accept that you probably do. Oh well. Not like Joel was gonna ask you out anyway. You close your eyes again. 

"Okay. Ready."

You hear Joel place himself on the rolling stool. He slides behind you at the top of the massage table and you hold in a shudder as he moves your hair up out of his way, his fingertips grazing your neck. Immediately you feel your nipples tighten and you pray they can't be seen through the sheet. 

His hands are oiled up and then move to your neck once more. His fingers glide along your collarbone before dragging over the muscles there. The sensation is incredible, the overlooked and overworked muscle celebration with the release of tension. 

"Feels so nice," you mutter without thinking.  

"Then I'm doing my job right," Joel says and you hear the smile in it. You can feel the warm huff of his minty breath fall over your cheek.

You realize belatedly that his face must be near yours and you feel your heartbeat quicken. Your thighs press together tightly and you're shocked at how turned on you are. Joel's touch, this room, this comfort has all conspired to get you to the edge of arousal. 

His wide hands squeeze your neck muscles, gently vibrating. Something releases and your head swims warmly. 

You wriggle slightly and Joel shifts his hands to the back of your skull. His thumbs press and begin to circle there, digging pleasantly. 

"Your form says you get headaches."

"Mhmmm. Sometimes."

"Alright, might do some work on your head if that's okay."

"Sure."

"Lotta my patients like when I end with a head massage," he tells you, his voice tinged with pride. “Think you’ll enjoy it.”

You don't know how to tell him that his patients probably just like anything he does because he's the most beautiful man you've seen outside a movie screen. 

When his thumbs get to your temples you should have told him to stop. Because the thudding between your legs is increasing. With every swipe you feel your core tightening. 

Calm down. Calm down. 

His thumbs retreat and you feel a stab of relief go through you. That is until his fingers slide up the back of your neck through your hair... 

And he tugs. 

A simple motion, just a grab of your hair in his fists and a gentle tug to release the tension in your skull. Except it releases the tension.... Everywhere.  

Pleasure overwhelms you, warm and flooding your entire body like sweet golden light. Your hands grip the sheets as your back arches unexpectedly, hips digging back against the table. 

The sound of your shuddered cry hits the air sharply, like cool water thrown over the both of you. 

And then silence. 

//////

You're tense. 

That much was clear when Joel saw you in the waiting room. When he touched your tight back and saw the pinched way your face looked in the mirror. 

He was determined to get you to relax. To give you what he knew you needed: release from pain. He'd read your intake form, saw where the pain was, saw you were getting shitty sleep, the headaches. It makes sense that you were wound up.

And you'd nearly jolted off the table at his first touch of you. He hadn't been expecting that reaction. You were like a skittish horse, wild and needing desperately to be tamed. 

And soon enough you'd calmed under his light touches. And now you seem pretty relaxed as the massage continues, Joel smiles when he thinks he hears you snoring quietly. He works away at the stubborn knots in your back. 

He moves down your arm, hearing you give soft little whimpers in your sleep and noting when he gets to your hand that there's no wedding band there. He doesn't understand why that sticks out to him but it does. He works down your other arm doing the same. 

He lets a hand drift along your spine, watching as you curve up for him like a cat. It's hypnotizing how his little grazes affect you so deeply. His eyes drift to the clock in the corner. Twenty minutes left. 

His mouth goes to your ear. 

"Alright, gonna get you to turn over for me. I'll turn around."

He turns, listening to the rustling sheets as you scoot down the table a bit, pulling the sheets up over you. 

"Then I'm doing my job right," Joel says with a smile. 

Everything is going well; you're going boneless in his hands again. So pliant and willing. Joel finds deep satisfaction in this. Like he's won your body over somehow, told it there's no reason for fear. He thinks it’s because you seemed so unimpressed with him at first, so dismissive. You wouldn’t even shake his hand. But now you seem like you’ve warmed up to him and this pleases him.

He sees the crease between your brows and smoothes over it with his thumb. He smiles when it disappears under his touch. 

"Your form says you get headaches," he says remembering what he read earlier. 

"Mhmmm. Sometimes."

"Alright, might do some work on your head if that's okay."

"Sure."

"Lotta my patients like when I end with a head massage," Joel says, proudly. He's never heard a bad word about his head massages. Hell, some people come in just for that. “Think you’ll enjoy it.”

His thumbs move to your temple and that's when he first notices the shifting of your thighs. He assumes it's an itch and ignores it. Looking back that should have been his first indication. 

When your breathing began to pick up he assumed he was just hitting a good spot. Mistake number two. 

One of Joel's favorite things about massage is that as well as healing it can bring deep relaxation and even pleasure. When he gathers the hair at the back of your neck and tugs he does so in the hopes that it will work on releasing some of that headache tension you were talking about. 

And then Joel hears it. 

The shuddering gasp accompanied by the arch of your spine and twitch of your lower half. He sees your hands curl into the sheet on either side of you. If he'd been working anywhere near your lower back he would have brushed it off as a sore muscle. But as it is he knows what just happened. 

You just came. 

He sees it in the shuddering intake of breath you take now, the flush over your cheeks and what he can see of your chest. And the way your legs relax under the sheet. 

It's not the first time a woman or man has been aroused on his table. He's had his fair share of tented blankets with the men and squirming women biting their bottom lips. The only difference is he's never made one come on his table before. 

And they've never made him hard. 

His cock is lengthening in his pants and he's so thankful that your eyes are closed. He momentarily panics, this has never happened before and the professionalism he strives for is rapidly escaping him. 

He can see your face is screwed up in anxiety and a wave of pity mixed with shame goes through him. He knows what happened with you was completely involuntary.  

And you were doing so well right before, totally limp in his grasp. You were relaxed and he'd given that to you but now you're entire body is turning in on itself, tight. All the good work you both did today leaving. 

Just get over it. Do your job. 

Joel's a professional and he knows how to handle these situations. The best course of action is to pretend like nothing is wrong. 

"The pressure okay?"

"Yep," you say tightly, your entire body tensing up under his hands. He moves his hands back to your neck and rubs gently. 

"Just relax," he whispers huskily. "We're finishing up."

This seems to relax you more, the thought that soon you'll be gone from this table. 

He needs you gone from the table, from the room, from his practice. The more he touches you and looks at you, knowing how naked you are under that sheet, the more he feels that coiled sensation in his belly. He tries to ignore that ache in his cock. But the more he tries to ignore it the more it seems to pulse. 

Your head shifts slightly, showing him more of your neck and suddenly he can't help himself. His face drifts slowly towards it, so close he can smell your perfume or your shampoo or lotion. Whatever it is, it’s fucking delicious. It makes him want to run his tongue along your neck.  

His eyes drift to your ear with its simple stud and Joel knows he’s in trouble because your fucking ear is turning him on. He clears his throat, voice rumbling from the base of his chest.  

"Need it harder?"

He watches you shiver, sees the goosebumps rise all along your body and now he notices the tiny buds of your nipples through the top sheet. He holds in a growl as you give a small whimper. 

"Uh... Yes, thank you."

Your breathy voice is so tentative and he loathes that it makes his cock twitch. He glances down to see his erection tents his pants almost comically now. 

That's enough. This is a fucking patient, Miller. 

He briefly removes his hands from you and stands, planning on flipping his aching cock up in the waistband of his boxers. 

There's a sharp ring from inside your purse across the room that startles you both. 

"Oh, shit, sorry," you say automatically lifting your head from the table and opening your eyes. "I thought I turned the ringer off-"

You've stopped talking and Joel realizes it's because his hard cock is almost at your eye level and you're staring directly at it. Joel's hands are hung at his sides, uselessly. 

Your eyes drag to his, wide and unreadable and they stay fixed there for what feels like forever. The sound of the phone ringing grows dim and then finally silences. 

He's going to be fucking arrested. You're going to leave a scathing review on Google. You're going to start screaming any second. 

Joel feels like his entire world is being tilted on its axis the more your eyes drift between him and his still hard cock. 

"I've... I don't..... I've never," Joel fumbles, trying to come up with the right words. "No ones ... No patients ever done this before... To me, I mean."

You flush so prettily at that, your smile is shy and crooked. You look at the table, embarrassed before your face is turned up to face him again. 

"Would you..." You trail off licking your lips nervously. Joel feels his cock pulsing when you do.  "Would it be okay if... If I.. Or you...?"

Joel watches your fingers reaching for his zipper before stopping, waiting for him to give the go ahead. 

I should leave. Tell her it's inappropriate and go. 

Joel ignores this thought entirely, instead he nods in understanding as he pops open the top button of his pants and slides the zipper down the teeth. Your eyes watch its descent with eager anticipation. 

His cock is stiff in his boxers and he shyly covers the thick shaft and head poking aggressively from the slit in the middle. He expects that this will turn you off, his obvious arousal. But your eyes have grown glazed, mouth parted. 

"Can I…touch?"

Joel sees your hand going towards the hand covering his cock. He swallows nervously. This is crossing all ethical and moral boundaries.

And yet ...

Joel nods, dropping his hand and you hesitate for a only a moment before your eyes drift to the belt at his hip. He realizes you've spotted the lotion bottle inside. Joel says nothing as you pump a few dabs of the massage oil into your palm before rubbing your hands together. 

He feels his heart begin to hammer as your hand reaches between the two of you to grip the head of his cock lightly. Barely a touch and Joel feels a groan pulled from his chest. 

His gaze is on your hand, watching as you begin to stroke, squeezing along the head. The lotion makes your hand glide perfectly, your grip strong and tight. 

He lets his eyes drift over to your face and a new surge of arousal goes through him. Your face is fixed in concentration, cheeks flushed so fucking pretty. You give a twist of your wrist that has Joel's legs about to buckle. 

"Oh fuck," Joel moans, head tilting forward. "So....Tha- that's so fucking good, baby." 

///

Baby.

Your thighs press together almost painfully at his husky voice calling you that. 

Baby. 

You cannot believe what's happening. An hour ago you were terrified to have a stranger touch you and now you're jerking off your masseur's deliciously thick cock as he calls you baby. 

He's so beautiful, eyes closed, hands braced against the table as you stroke him. He thrusts shallowly into your hand, wanting you to take the lead. 

Everything about him is sexy to you. His tall frame arching over the table for you, the way you can see his ass clench in his pants when he moves against your palm. The little groans you're pulling from him, sailing past his teeth almost shyly. 

Your own breathing is staggered because you can't stop looking at his mouth. It's parted, his breath coming out in long shudders. You want to kiss him so fucking badly but you're lying back on the table and he's standing. You wish you could see more of him, not just the cock pulled from the slit of his boxers.

"I don't deserve this," Joel groans, his shoulders rolling as he arches into your pumping hand. 

"You do. You made me feel so good," you say softly. "I just wanna do the same."

His dark eyes open, glazed and fixed on you. His eyes dart everywhere, from your eyes to your mouth to your eyes and back down to your mouth. 

You flinch when you feel his fingers slip under the sheet and begin to trail along your inner thigh. 

"Wanna do it again," he rumbles. "Properly if that's okay."  

You can only breathe shallowly as you force a nod. It's barely more than a twitch but it's all he needs. His fingers slide between your thighs, dancing there. He groans as he does this, your hand working him well. 

He licks his lower lip, eyes never leaving your face as his fingers glide over your clothed pussy. You instinctively tilting into his touch, cheeks flaming. Joel runs a forefinger between your slit, feeling the soaking fabric of your panties there. You give a whimper as his eyelids shutter. 

"I made you this wet?"

His voice is low, awed. 

Again you give the smallest nod, feeling warm when Joel smiles at you. He looks so pleased with himself. 

You dip your eyes down your body, unable to see anything other than movement of his hand under the sheet. For some reason that makes it even hotter. 

Your eyes go back to his face just in time for his finger to slip under your panties and begin to tease your entrance. At this your body jerks and the sheet falls slightly, showing you left breast and very erect nipple. You watch his eyes greedily drink in the sight. 

"Goddam."

Joel's hips begin to stutter and you feel his hand come to rest overtop yours. His hand is large and warm and he holds you gently, stilling your movements. 

"Slower," he tells you in a rasp. "Want us to get there together."

Fuck. Could this guy get any sexier?

"Okay."

At this his finger enters you, joined quickly by a second at your whispered insistence. You struggle to maintain a slow speed over his slippery cock because of it. He begins to slowly work his way deep, curling delicately. You give a shuddering inhale, eyes at half mast. 

"You want it harder?" Joel murmurs and from your position you can see his eyes are nearly black with desire as he looks down at your face. "Seem to remember you sayin' that's how you liked it." 

You can only whimper as you nod. His palm grinds against your clit sending sparks of fire up your body. 

"F-uuck!"

Your hand is slick with oil and you can hear your dual breathing and the wet sound of your hand working his cock mixing with the harmonious strings and wood flutes being played over the speaker. 

You don't even know you're whining until Joel's free hand presses a finger to your lips, gently shushing you. 

"They're gonna hear us," he tells you, voice rough and pupils dilated so much his eyes look black. You nod and he removes his finger from against your lips, much to your dismay. 

Joel watches as your eyes roll back when he begins to move his fingers within you in earnest. Hitting deep and then retreating, pulsing there, curling and rubbing perfectly. Your hips begin to thrust in time with your strokes along his cock and Joel's eyes go from his cock to the blanket where his fingers work you so well. 

Your eyes travel to where your hand works him. Holding him twitching in your palm, watching the head weep with precome makes you feel powerful. Taking down this broad, masculine form with no more than gentle tugs to his cock. 

Joel-" you whisper, trying to be quiet but you're struggling. It feels so good. He feels so good. His eyes move to your face, his neck and cheeks flushed. 

"Gonna come for me right here," Joel tells you in that low, syrupy way he speaks. The one that says relax, tell me if it's too hard. "Aren't you?"

"Y-yes," you huff, your entire body going rigid. "Yes, gonna come for you, Joel."

Joel feels his stomach tighten at the way you whimper his name. Your back arches, your hand is a blur along his cock. And then suddenly his fingers hit that sweet spot deep inside, the one that has everything in your body coming to life and your eyes roll back. 

"Oh there she goes," Joel marvels. "There she fuckin' goes."

Joel's words curl down your body like his hands have done the last hour. They smooth and they press and they make you feel fucking amazing. 

"Gonna... " is all you can get before your pleasure overtakes you. You’re body jolts once more and your head slopes back as you snap your free hand over your mouth to keep your moans contained. 

"Uh huh, yeah baby, just like that," Joel urges you in heady whispers as you begin to climax. "You look so fucking good coming for me lik-- So fuck... Oh fuck... Makin' me-"

Joel slaps his free hand over his mouth seconds after over you. You let out a ragged moan at precisely the same time, the two of you climaxing with your hands over your mouths so as not to be heard.

His fingers work within you, pumping even as Joel releases himself in thick spurts over your stuttering hand. You soak his fingers under the sheet, body twisting with greedy desire as he stares at your face. 

The soft glow of sex fades quickly when the gentle chime of Joel's phone goes off seconds later. Suddenly reality makes itself known, cold and unpleasant as Joel’s cock grows limp in your hand.

What the fuck just happened?

Joel reaches behind him to the shelf and turns back, taking your hand in his and wiping his spend from your palm, between your knuckles, down your wrist. He does this with a red face, not once looking at you. That's for the best because you're so mortified you want to shrivel up under the blanket. 

When he's finished he runs a thumb over your knuckles, eyes darting to your face briefly before he drops your hand. He turns from you and tidies himself up, tucking himself away back in his boxers and zipping up his pants. 

"That's uh... That's all we have time for today," Joel croaks from over his shoulder. 

"Thanks," you say breathily, trying to regain your composure. You stare at his broad shoulders and tapered waist. The firm ass that you want to reach out a grab. 

"How do you feel?"

He still hasn't turned around and you wonder what he's thinking. His eyes are so expressive and to have them hidden from you seems a shame because you can't gauge how he feels about what just happened.

 "Uh ... Really good... You're very... Good."

At this Joel swallows and you feel like you're face must be on fire. You want to say something, anything to end this awkward exchange but Joel is already striding to the door. 

"I'll leave you to get dressed, then."

The door giving a snick closed behind him leaving you to shakily get up from the table. You don't even look to see the evidence of your arousal; you just bunch the sheets up in a pile with shame creeping down your neck. 

You don't even know if Joel is married or dating. Just because you're not doesn't mean he doesn't have a very fulfilling relationship outside these four walls. Guilt now takes you over to go along with the shame, like longtime friends holding hands and skipping. 

The worst part of all of this was how much you liked it. The needing to be quiet, the rush of doing something forbidden, the feeling of his cock growing harder and harder in your grip. Making a man like that groan and moan for you. You wish you'd tasted him, even just a lick. You also wish he'd talked more. That deep voice of his is more potent than any aphrodisiac you know of. 

What the fuck is wrong with me? This is a business. I just jerked a stranger off! This shouldn't turn me on. 

You pull on your clothes in haste, tugging the purse over your shoulder and jerking open the door in a rush to leave. To your horror Joel stands just outside in the hallway, eyes on the ground. He looks like an admonished schoolboy forced to make an apology and the sight of it makes you wince. 

"How're-"

You don't wait for him to finish the sentence. You want to get away from this place as soon as possible. You give a mumbling goodbye and move past him out the door, just as quiet and detached as when he first met you. 

You burst into the waiting room, the door main closing behind you. It's empty save for the receptionist who looks over at you in surprise. 

"I'm just here to pay," you tell her, hoping she can't see the shame in your eyes. You go to bring out your wallet from your purse. 

"It's already been paid," The receptionist says cheerfully typing on her laptop. 

Pam. Of course you're roommate paid for it. You flush as you consider what she actually paid for. 

"Would you like to make another appointment?" The receptionist asks cheerfully. "Joel's schedule tends to fill up fast."

You swallow, fingers hovering over the counter. The question is so simple but the answer is anything but obvious.

Yes or No?

[onskepa]

Can I get a Neteyam or Lo'ak x Human reader. Where he ends up spending an entire day at the lab with them. I just imagine them getting into a play fight and that messing us each other's hair and they end up doing different hairstyles on each other. 🥺Maybe you can also include a part where the reader shows Neteyam/Lo'ak her music playlist. Bruh- I just imagined Neteyam/Lo'ak hearing the lyrics of Kill bill and kinda staring at the reader wide eyed at the 'I just killed my ex part'. 😅

Hellooooooo darling! so I decided to do both, and, personally, I have never heard of the song kill bill, much less watching the movies. However, I do hope the songs I picked satisfy you. Enjoy!

Pamtseo Si

Neteyam Route!

It was a rainy day in the Omatikaya forest, Neteyam was grateful for it. That means no training for the whole day, and as a bonus, he gets to have a whole day with his small girlfriend! She told him the other day that she wants to share something with him. Excited, he quickly ate his breakfast and practically RAN to the lab base.

His relationship with the humans are ok, he isn't as close to them compared to his siblings. But he only cares for his one and only beloved.

Doing the needed procedures when entering the lab, he grabbed his needed mask, and made his way to his human girlfriend. The science guys made way for him. Didn't bother to talk to him as neteyam will mostly ignore them.

Entering the private room of his beloved, he sees her in her glory, laying on her massive bed, and holding something small on her hands. "Pam?" he calls to her, a little pet name for her. Pam turned and smiled, bright shine reflecting on her beautiful eyes. "nete! come come!" she pulls him into her room and shuts the door. Pam got the "special" treatment by getting one of the biggest rooms in the lab, it used to be for storage before being her bedroom.

Both hugged tightly, taking in the warm feeling and listening to each other's heart beat. Neteyam inhaled his beloved's scent, fresh grass, hint of Yovo fruit, and the nectar from the flowers.

Pam took in the earthly smell and rain from neteyam. She could never get enough of his scent. Pulling back a bit, she grabs his hand and takes him to the bed, where he gladly sits and places Pam on his lap.

"What did you wanted to show me?" neteyam asks, Pam giggles a bit and shows him a small tiny flat, black thing. "this is a music player, its kinda old, but it works well, it can play music!" she explains happily.

Neteyam tilts his head curiously, to play music, his people would play many types of musical instruments to make different noise. So he is confused how a small black thing can play music.

"how does it work?" he asks, to which Pam happily shows. With a simple touch, the black thing turned on, showing many odd symbols in various colors. "ah! here it is!" pam presses a green and black symbol, and it brings up so many words and more odd symbols. Demon technology sure is weird.

"this can hold thousands of songs! here, let me play my up most favorite!" she presses a word and it begins to play music from the thing. Pam looks at him and says "this one is called 'I want to stay at your house', whenever I play it...I think of you".

Blushing a bit, neteyam listens closely to the song, hearing a woman's voice singing out the words.

The sounds it made was oddly soothing, but the words the woman in the black thing speaks, but for some reason, the words speak to him. It also reminds him of his beloved Yawne.

He looks over to her as she leans onto him, closing her eyes and listening to the song. He copy's her, leaning a bit, closing his eyes and let his heart feel for the music.

And that is for neteyam! this will have a part 2, going to be Lo'ak's route! So look forward to that one! Hope you all liked it!

Pamtseo Si = play music, play an instrument (with fa for instrument played)

[first-edition]

Hot Water

Smut-mas day 6

Eric Northman x reader

Sum- All you wanted was nice hot shower, and all Eric wanted was you.

CW- shower sex, unprotected (wrap it before you tap it.), age gap (obviously Eric is 1,000 years old), vampire x human, biting kink, exhibitionism, pet names.

You sigh walking into your shared room with Eric. He sits on the bed sitting up when he see you. You walk over to the dresser opening it gathering clothes for after your shower and folding them setting them on the bed before you start to undress. Taking off your shoes and socks, pants and final lay your shirt leaving you in you undergarments

Erics cold hands meet your waist as you pull off your shirt. 

“how was work?” He asks asking about your job as a bar tender at merlots. 

“I don’t know some bitch threw her drink at me.” You reply to the red stained shirt. 

“hmm.” He hums as he kisses your neck. you sigh leaning into his touch as his arms hold your waist. 

“I just wanna shower and go to bed Eric.” You say the down side of dating a vampire is basically being nocturnal. 

“i haven’t seen you all day let me kiss you.” He says. You turn around smiling as you wrap your arms around his neck. 

“Shower with me then.” you say pecking his lips. He dosnt respond just snakes his hand around your back and unclips your bra. Letting it fall to the floor. 

“okay.” He responds.  “just shower. No funny business.” You say. He chuckles and nods. 

“no funny business from me love.” He replies. You nod let go of him and walking to the bathroom. 

You turn on the water feeling it making sure its hot enough to your liking. You take off your panties and step in feel the water running down your body cleaning off the remaing alcohol that was spilled on you. 

The shower door opens as Eric joins you closing it behind him. 

“what did you do besides sleep all day?” You ask he chuckles his tall form towering of you. 

“i went out with Pam her and Tara are running the club tonight.” 

“what? I thought it was the night off?” You ask 

“For me…fantasia open nights 24/7″ he says placing his hands on your waist. 

“oh.” You say 

“a-and Tara? How is she doing…with”  “i dont know she dosnt talk to me you’ll have to ask Pam.” He says stepping back before your back hits the cold tile. 

“e-Eric i said i just wanted a shower.” You say. 

“mhm.” He says just seeing the water ruin down his abs the minute he stepped into the shower has you all hot and bothered. 

“you had a rough day…i’ll make it better.” He says and presses his lips against yours kissing you passionately. You return the favor and kiss him back. His hands grip your hips pulling you against him his hardening dick hitting your thigh. 

his hand wanders down your back giving your ass a squeeze making you gasp allowing him to move down your neck kissing you. You giggle as it tickles. You hear a click as his fangs come out. They run along your neck and collar bone. 

You picks you up your legs wrapped around his waist his other hand grasps your breast taking the focus away from his cock entering your cunt. Making you moan as he does. 

Moving in you your filled with pleasure. He thrusts up into you letting you know how beautiful you are telling you he loves you over and over.

“mine…” he growls and bites your chest above your breast. You gasp moaning as he picks up the pace drilling into you. 

“f-fuck ah..eric” you moan his name.  “more baby more. I wanna hear you louder.” He groans in your ear. 

“E-Eric!” You moan out 

“you gonna cum, fuck so good.” He moans feeling you clench around him. 

A few more thrusts has you cumming hard. He pulls out of you and with out warning he sets you down turns you around and renters you roughly your hand hold onto the glass door leaving a foggy smudged print. 

“fuck, fuck-” you squeal as he slaps your ass railing you from behind. As his hands search your body. 

“fuck y/n…ah” you moans roughly fucking you and cumming deep in you. Making you hit a second climax. 

You pant as Eric pulls out of you and bring you up to face him kissing your lips. you smile out of the kiss.

“is your day better?” He asks you nod giggling. He peck your lips again. 

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Mordent

Chapter Eighteen

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Other characters: Sam, Billie

Word Count: 2880ish

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, this turned into more of a brother chapter than I originally intended, talk of tattoos and body mods, unbeta'd

Series Masterlist

Dean walked out of the studio with a cassette recording of their album, a CD and a thumb drive. He always asked for it to be playable in the impala and Ash always came through. The other options were for Bobby and Sam, respectively. Sam would send the files to everyone else. It was finished, set to be released while they were on tour, with the label’s stamp of approval and all. ‘Waysides and Regrets’ was thirteen songs packed with everything they could pour into them.

"Don’t call it a comeback,” Dean muttered to himself as he slipped into the driver’s seat and popped the cassette into the deck. The opening to Rupture ripped through the speakers and Dean cackled at hearing it like a civilian. He drummed along with Pam on the steering wheel as he turned out of the parking lot, saluting the guard at the gate as he went. 

He listened to it all before going back home. Rupture bled into Pushing Through which mellowed out to the subdued Brothers Keeper. Then they cranked it back up with Route 666, which slid into the angsty Prophet and Loss that showcased just why Kevin was Cas’ replacement (musically at least). Beyond the Mat and Goodbye Stranger were two sides of the same coin, introspective but in different tones, soulful and combative respectively. Then there was the first single, Annie’s duet, Baby, which Dean unabashedly wrote about his car, but as if she were real and he could thank her and praise her for everything she meant to him. He sang out loud with every word of that song as he cruised faceless side streets letting the music wash over him. 

Everybody Loves A Clown, Except Sam was supposed to be a joke track, but they got carried away with it and it actually was one of the funnest songs to play for Dean, and Kevin going full calliope for the chorus was totally worth it.  Gods and Monsters was fueled by Dean’s inner rage and where his anger came from, also known as John Winchester and his own self worth issues. Missouri had a field day when he sent her those lyrics. Then there was Lee’s track which Dean helped merely tweak some lines, Give Me My Axe: An Executioner’s Song. It was even better with the windows down and the road disappearing beneath his tires. The final track was an anthem, not quite what the kids would call a banger, but celebratory enough to be the potential second single from the album. It’s about the weekend Dean finally came up for air, when Sam holed him up at Bobby’s cabin in Tahoe and they had his come-to-Jesus intervention thing. It’s about letting go and letting your people catch you, aptly named Weekend at Bobby’s. It turned out better than Dean could have hoped.

He turned into the canyon when the bonus tracks started, knowing the album was drawing to a close and wanting Sam to hear it before he got too emotional about it. The house was quiet when he walked in, the coffee still in the pot, but Sam’s rinsed-out smoothie blender upside down in the sink. Dean found Sam outside, despite the cooler air, going through his yoga routine. 

Dean teased Sam about a lot of things, but it held little venom with the things that brought Sam well-being. 

“Hey, mop-head, got the album when you’re ready,” Dean called from the doors off the kitchen.

Sam exhaled and smiled, eyes closed in concentration. Dean didn’t know how he did it, but he understood sometimes other senses just get in the way of an experience, almost like they try to crowd it or consume it because it’s not about them.

“Gimme like ten minutes,” Sam replied and shifted into mountain pose. 

“Fair enough.”

Dean left the thumb drive on the counter and made his way into the living room. They had speakers in their jam room, but Dean hadn’t eaten and lunch was sounding better by the second. So he popped the CD into the stereo and paused it with one of the many remotes they’d accumulated through years of technological upgrades. Sam had an app on his phone for half of it, but Dean still favored physically punching buttons to get what he wanted done.

He made his way back into the kitchen and started pulling things out for BLTs. Sam had some tofu-bacon in the drawer and he fried that up too, and if a little of the real grease got on it, it was too bad for Sam. He grabbed a couple of bags of chips from the pantry and then some leftover fruit salad from the fridge to even them out. Life was about balance after all, and having a health nut for a brother and roommate Dean had learned to pick his battles. 

“Hey, that smells amazing,” Sam broke through Dean’s little self-congratulation.

“Yeah, mine does, yours smells like a nursing home cafeteria—- You ready?” Dean asked, holding up the remote with one hand while popping a chip into his mouth with the other.

“Hit it,” Sam agreed, sitting at the counter as Dean slapped his sandwich down in front of him.

They ate and listened, commenting here and there. Sam helped Dean clean up the kitchen and they both gravitated to the couch to finish listening. Dean took out a bowl he kept in an end table and packed it, smoking casually as Sam took in each song, each transition. 

It was one moment, but it was also a hundred others in the years before it. Brothers sitting in comfortable quiet as music spoke to them instead of one another. They were thirteen and nine and Dad had brought home a signed Lyle Lovett album for them to ingest. While neither of them were yet prone to country, it shifted their ideas of just what good music was. They were fifteen and eleven and done enough chores for a trip to Record Town in North Platte where they each got a tape apiece. Dean got Jar of Flies by Alice in Chains while he convinced Sam to get The Downward Spiral by Nine Inch Nails instead of Tori Amos’ Under the Pink. They read every line of production details and lyrics on the pamphlets tucked into the plastic cases. 

Sam came home to find Dean back for the weekend. It was early ‘98 and it felt like everything had turned horrifyingly pop focused. The Prodigy’s Fat of the Land was playing on the boombox Dean had dragged out of Sam’s room as his big brother cleaned the kitchen back to his standards and not Kate’s livable level of clutter. They were waiting to hear if they had a brother or a sister. The only thing said between them was Dean reassuring Sam that he put his Celine Dion CD back in its case. 

They sat in Lee’s dorm room, stoned and drunk, watching as his roommate's computer uploaded their album. It felt like it would take forever, but it was also insane to think that people all over the world could listen to their music. It was full of possibility, but it was also just two brothers and their friends in their habitat, existing together.

“Dude— did you autotune me?!” Sam gaped, chuckling self consciously while listening to his line of the acoustic track of Brothers Keeper.

“Barely. Like nobody’s gonna notice, they’ll be too busy balling their eyes out,” Dean reassured.

“Yeah, like you, huh?”

“Shut up.”

Sam laughed, but let his embarrassment go; the nervous bastard always hated singing which was why he wasn’t as good at it. 

The album reached its end and they started talking about ideas for the tour, things to write down and beg Charlie for like lighting designs or album specific imagery when they hop back into their older stuff. It was almost four when Dean finally got over to Bobby’s with the CD, but he didn't stay for another listen. He let Annie have her moment with Bobby gushing, as much as the geezer could or would gush.

On the way home, you called him squealing with excitement.

“You listen to it already?”

“No! I just got the files from Sam. I guess I shouldn’t have called until I heard it all, huh?”

Dean chuckled. “Maybe. Or maybe you’ll hate it and never want to talk to me again.”

“Ha-ha. But no, seriously, I’m so excited. I’m going to blast it as I meal prep. Do you want my review long hand or can I just call you back and talk your ear off?”

“Whatever you’re willing to give me,” Dean tried for playful.

“Dangerous, Winchester. Okay, well I have like ten more things I have to do now that we have a single. But I’ll be in touch.”

“Sounds good— and thanks.”

“No— thank you.”

Dean hung up and let the fear roll in. You were going to hear it all. Everything he had been through and everything you had helped him overcome. He only hoped you wouldn’t be upset by making a cameo on something so public. Or embarrassed by the way he still needed you. 

Dean promised he’d be on his best behavior. Part of that was putting out fires for the band, to try and help make your job easier. So after the shake up from Kevin and Cas, he called Billie and apologized for his bandmates’ (both past and present) disrespect. She told him he could make it up to her. But there was no way Dean was going under the needle again, last time he even looked at one he almost threw up. But, it just so happened he knew someone who was in the market for some art. 

Unfortunately, that meant Dean would have to tag along.

Billie’s studio was modern and bright, with different colored walls contrasting the silver accents, both mirrors and shelving. From the outside, Reaping Ink was a small sign on a battered street, but inside it felt like walking into an art gallery and not someplace that had hard sharps containers and enough first aid equipment to stock an ambulance on hand.

And the furniture was always so damn comfortable.

The last time Dean had been here was for a memorial tattoo for Jo that you got on your right shoulder. He nearly broke your hand holding it as he tried and failed not to watch your skin be pierced continuously. It was a beautiful tattoo, everything Billie did was masterful. It just wasn’t something Dean wanted to sit through again.

Luckily for everyone, Bela didn’t need Dean to hold her hand. But she did need him as in with Billie, who usually booked appointments six-to-eight months out. 

“Hello, Dean,” Billie’s dark voice called once they walked in, she stood so still and so silently, he hadn’t even noticed her among the cacophony of color in the waiting area.

“Heya Billie, this is Bela,” Dean guided Bela with a hand on the small of her back, the way Billie’s dark eyes clocked the motion made Dean want to step back. Like a nun catching you standing too close to your crush in the hallway. Dean never went to Catholic school, but that feeling of getting caught, of doing wrong was universal.

“Pleasure,” Bela smiled at the artist, while Billie just nodded.

“I have a couple versions for you to pick from, I think I got the gist of what we talked about, but I wanted to be sure on sizing and layout. So come on back and we’ll get started,” Billie went straight into business mode. No whining about Cas’ impulsiveness or speculating on Dean and Bela’s relationship. At least verbally, her eyes held a very different story.

She had three different stencils already cropped and laid out for Bela to see as Bela rucked up her top and rolled down her leggings. It wasn’t a tramp stamp, she was insistent on that, but it was on the back of her right hip, something she could glance at or hold if she needed to. The way she talked about the position of the tattoo, made it seem just as important as the content or the coloring of it.

“Dean?” Bela’s voice drew Dean out of his thoughts.

“Hmm?” 

“Can you take pictures with my phone? Before, during, and after?” Bela handed him her unlocked iphone and he turned it around to focus on her nearly bare back. He took a few shots and gave it back. 

“You’ll want that to distract you, trust me,” Dean assured.

Bela rolled her eyes. “Isn’t that what you’re here for?”

Dean went green. “As long as I don’t have to watch.”

“Really?!” Bela exclaimed and looked over to Billie for confirmation.

“Mmm-hmm, boys one of the worst I’ve seen around needles. No wonder he doesn’t even have his ears pierced.”

“I guess I never noticed—- wouldn’t have thought. Poor thing,” Bela sighed as she settled on her stomach on one of Billie’s many specialty beds. 

“Can we not? I mean, I’m here ain't I?” Dean huffed and pulled out his own phone. You still hadn’t texted him what you thought about the album, but he also knew you were busy, so he didn’t want to rush you or look too desperate.

He felt Bela and Billie have a silent conversation as he pulled up his sudoku app, but ignored them as Billie got the stencil in place, only getting up to snap another picture. Then, they were off. Bela and Billie making small talk about the design, which Dean knew Bela had put a lot of thought into, especially since it would officially tarnish her good girl image. Even in this day and age, most of her fans were in their fifties. A tattoo could rattle the masses. But getting one with Dean seemed like a good compromise of their images.

He was rubbing off on her, so to speak. Well, he hadn’t done that literally since his talk with Sam, but you know.

They sat for an hour and a half and took a break, Dean went to get food and coffee, which he left in the lobby so as not to infringe on Billie’s strict rules. Dean took a couple more pictures and some stupid selfies for Bela to find later. The shop was closed to the public and since Billie’s latest playlist had started over, Dean asked if he could hook up to the bluetooth. 

Billie looked at him appraisingly as it became clear that he was playing his own music during his girlfriend’s appointment. 

“What?”

“You’re either looking for my approval or you’re buttering me up by letting me hear this first. Which is it?” Billie manhandled Bela back into position to get going on the shading.

“I don’t know, man. Both?”

Billie hummed, but didn’t reply.

Dean walked around the studio, looking at the different sets of flash and paintings that covered the walls. He flinched away from the spinning display of rods, tapers, disks, and rings for piercings and stretching. He felt like a waste of space, but mainly because he was never any good with boredom. Being idle in a place he was already uncomfortable, for a plethora of reasons, was akin to torture.

He remembered to breathe.

He checked his phone. He put that back into his pocket. He stole Bela’s phone for a few more pictures, trying not to look directly at her raised, red flesh.

“How’s it going?” Dean asked, after giving Bela her phone back, his album running its course around them.

“I’d say another twenty minutes and then I’ll bandage her up. You good?” Billie asked, surprisingly sincerely.

“What? Yeah, I’m fine. Just curious,” Dean muttered.

“Hey, Dean. I like the music,” Billie said, waiting for him to make eye contact.

“Thanks,” Dean nodded, trying not to let his blush show.

“When’s it coming out?” Bela asked, suddenly reminding Dean why he was there in the first place.

“End of April,” he said. “Single’ll be released week after my birthday.”

Bela paused and looked up at him, but Billie was the one to break the ice.

“Which is?”

“Uh, the 24th. Baby hits your airwaves on the 29th.”

“Is that Annie Hawkins on that track?” Billie asked.

“Yup,” Dean grinned.

“Damn, almost forgot about her. Nice pull,” Billie praised.

Dean chuckled, not explaining his connection. She’d find out eventually, if it even mattered. “Yeah, we got lucky with that one.”

Bela was inked up, wiped down and vacuum sealed over the following half hour. Dean paid for the work, plus a generous tip. And posed for a few promotional shots with Bela and Billie alike. Once everyone was satisfied that what they had would help all involved, Bela and Dean said their goodbyes and thank yous and headed out for a late dinner at Elizabeth’s. 

“Do you want me to send these to you or to Y/N to latergram?” Bela asked as their drinks arrived. 

“Just send ‘em to Trouble. She’ll know what to do with them better than me,” Dean ducked out of the responsibility, unaware he was planting another social media minefield for you to navigate by doing so.

Tagging:

@deans-spinster-witch

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

@ladysparkles78

@deans-baby-momma

@stoneyggirl2

@sassy-pelican

@leigh70

@globetrotter28

@winharry

@lastactiontricia

@rockhoochie

Chapter Nineteen: Pizzicato

[inlovewithgreta]

Quiet Hours — Maude x Fem!Reader

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

a/n: yes, this is for you @celasteria. for anybody wondering, this is a pam character from the show fucking adelaide, definitely give it a watch!

Summary: You’re too lonely so you sneak your way into Maude’s room.

Warnings: fingering (r!receiving), age gap, that’s about it I believe.

Word Count: 1.1k

Taglist: @shslbunnylover

© Do not copy, repost, or modify any of my works.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You peeked your head out the door from the room you were supposedly 'sleeping' in, and scanned the hallway for any movement. And thank god there was nobody there. Your bare footsteps made a few cracks in the old wooden flooring creak as you hastily made your way to the room you truly wanted to sleep in.

Part of you was gutted by the fact that you and Maude had to hide your relationship, her telling her children, who were not that much younger than you, that you were just a friend.

But you were much, much, more than that. And you knew that, but you also knew that Maude wasn't ready just yet to reveal the actual truth that the two of you have been seeing each other, as the older woman was afraid of what her offspring would think of her.

She was once married to a man, and now here she is, dating a woman. A woman who treated her like no other. Like she was a goddess. A treasure to be cherished. And that's exactly what she was to you. Someone you never wanted to let go.

Your mind raced as you failed to knock on your lover's door, letting yourself in without a moment of hesitation as to avoid being seen by wandering eyes.

"Darling, what are you doing? Shut the door!" Maude whisper yelled, her head tilting, and her eyes flicking over your shoulder to make sure nobody sees you.

You shut the door and turned the lock with a quiet 'click', Maude instantly taking in your barely covered and well more petite figure. "I missed you..." you stated truthfully, letting your bottom lip fall in a faux pout that only made the woman lightly laugh.

"Honey, it's only been an hour," she removed the covers from her body, revealing her satin gown, and gestured towards her lap with that adorable smile that you loved oh so much.

There was no hesitation to swing your leg over her body to straddle the woman, your own thin nightgown hiking up past your upper thigh. The view Maude had from her angle definitely made the older woman hold back a growl.

"Well I can't help it," you tucked a stray gray hair behind her ear as her hands fell to the curve of your hips. "I always miss seeing your beautiful face with those delicious chocolate eyes looking at me. And the way you constantly have some kind of finger on me, always keeping me close to you. Keeping me warm."

"Is that so?" She questioned, a familiar glint sparkling in her eye as her fingers slid down to your upper thigh, only to let her digits roam past the hem of your gown. "On... or in you?" Maude asked, letting a wandering hand cup your heated center.

"I think we both know the answer to that," you chuckled, wetting your lips with your tongue before capturing Maude in a tender kiss. You meant for it to be a short, sweet kiss, but Maude had just felt how wet you were. And when you went to pull away, her teeth clenched to your bottom lip, forcing you to stay.

Her tongue was welcomed into your mouth, your gasp from her fingers moving your panties to the side to glide along your folds was muffled. She gathered your slick from your entrance to your clit, slowly giving your bud some much needed attention.

"So, which one is it?" She asked between sloppy kisses. "On or in? Let me hear you say it, pretty girl." Her free hand left your hip to cup your breast, sliding her thumb across your nipple, and smiling at the fact that you weren't wearing a bra.

"In," you admitted, Maude's fingers now sliding back to toy at your entrance. "Definitely in— please—" Maude didn't even give you the chance to beg, as she sunk two digits deep into your core.

Your hand flew up to cover your mouth that was now freely moaning at her ministrations, while the other held onto her shoulder for support, moving the black and gray strands behind her back to avoid pulling her hair.

As filthy as this moment is, Maude was always taken back at how sweet, and tender you were with her. You could easily be rougher with the woman, make the sex dirtier, but you always chose not to. Instead, allowing yourself to be gentle with the older woman, knowing how bad her past was with her ex.

It was actions like this that made her fall for you even harder than she thought she ever would. She never thought she'd find someone as sweet and caring as you. Who treated her with the utmost love and affection. And she relished every moment she spent with you.

You made her realize her worth.

Maude's hand left your breast, to uncover your mouth, allowing a few of your moans to escape before she took hold of your chin and brought your face back to hers. She needed your lips back on hers. Needing to be as close to you as possible.

And it didn't take long for you to clench against her digits, whining into the kiss as you came, and Maude being oh so careful to not overstimulate you.

"Mmm..." you hummed contently, leaning your forehead against hers with your eyes closed, and cupping her face ever so gently with your hands. "I love you, Maude."

"I love you too, my sweet girl. More than words can even describe." She stroked your cheek with her thumb, while also easing her digits out of you. "Now let's get you cleaned up, and you can sleep in here with me tonight, hmm?"

You leaned back, eyebrows knitted in worry, "But, what about—" A soft finger to your lips cuts you off. "I'm telling them about us in the morning." Maude said, with a sweet smile and a faint blush creeping onto her cheeks.

"You are?" You asked, your face immediately lighting up.

"Yes," she chuckled. "I am. They deserve to know how happy you make me," Maude admitted. "Darling, this is the happiest and most loved I've ever been. I want everyone to know that it's you who is making me feel this way. I don't care what they'll think anymore, I'm doing this for me.... For us." She finished her statement with a loving kiss to the tip of your nose.

You couldn't help but melt at her words. Arms wrapping around her neck as you gazed happily into her brown eyes that looked back at you with both love and admiration.

For once in your life, you were truly happy. And you couldn't wait to see what the future had in store for not only you, but your blossoming relationship with Maude.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

general masterlist | taglist

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Second Chance - Chapter 4

Masterlist

Warning: mention of weight loss, reader lowkeye almost blacks out, mention of medication, Tony is a good dad

Relationships: Tony x daughter!reader, Yelena x reader

Word count: 2.5k

Goodness, you were nervous. Your leg would not stop bouncing. The only time you had this much anxiety was your first doctor’s appointment. Every sense then, you got used to going alone, holding the weight of whatever news you received on your shoulders alone. Why was it so hard being here with someone? You glanced at Tony through the corner of your eye. He seemed equally as nervous as you waited for a nurse to call you back. He was hiding it, focused on whatever he was looking at on his tablet. But he was stiff as if he was glued to the chair he sat in. And when the nurse called your name, you both jumped - lost in whatever world your mind was creating.

You followed the nurse to the back, stepping on the scale to get your weight before heading to a room. “How are you feeling, angel?” She asked as you sat in the chair next to the desk. Tony sat in the chair in the corner.

“I’m doing good, Pam,” you made a note to remember the name of every nurse at the office. They were all saints and on your gift-giving list for Christmas.

“Are you just saying that because your father is here?” She questioned as she took your temperature. “97.8.” She documented it on your chart. Next, she placed the blood pressure cuff on your arm. It was your least favorite part, you hated how tingly your arm felt. You gave her a sheepish smile.

“Just the normal fatigue and light-headedness,” you admitted, looking down at the pattern on the floor. She took off the cuff and shook your arm to regain the feeling.

“Blood pressure is normal,” she sat down at the computer. “You’ve lost some weight since your last appointment. Are you eating?”

“Yes Pam,” you sighed. “Food just tastes weird.” You loved Pam but every time she was your nurse you felt like you were being scolded like a little kid.

“Protein powder and shakes,” she said. “And try small proteins throughout the day instead of three big meals.” You nodded.

“I’ll make sure she’s eating,” Tony said. “We all will.” You knew he meant that.

“Do you need any refills on your medications?” She asked. Your medical team had you on Zofran for nausea and a higher milligram of ibuprofen when your body ached. On the off chance, that ibuprofen wasn’t working you had muscle relaxers. But you didn’t like taking those. “Perfect. Dr. Carpenter will be right with you,” she said, standing up. “Take care of yourself, sweetheart, and call if you need anything.”

“I will,” you smiled. “Thank you.” Once she was gone, you stood up and sat on the exam table so you could lie down before Dr. Carpenter came in. You loved that man but boy he had a lot of energy.

“Hey,” you looked at Tony. “How are you?” He asked softly.

“Sleepy,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes. He smiled.

“Well, we can go back to the tower and you can take a nap or we can go get lunch. Nurse Pam did say you need to eat,” you rolled your eyes and placed your arm over your forehead.

“I eat,” you said. Not enough but at least you were eating. You sighed. “Let’s go get lunch. Free food is good food.”

“Oh I’m paying now,” you smiled. Before he could come up with a clever retort the door opened.

“There she is,” Dr. Carpenter said, closing the door behind him. You sat up to meet the excited doctor. “How are you? Still kicking ass and taking names.” You smiled, rolling your eyes slightly as he gave you a quick hug instead of a handshake.

“Something like that,” you said. He turned his attention to Tony.

“And the man of the hour,” he extended his hand for Tony to take. The billionaire’s body shook by the intensity. “Dr. Lucas Carpenter,” he pulled up a chair to sit down closer to you and Tony. “When the nurses told me she didn’t come alone, I almost fell out of my chair. I’ve been telling this one to reach out to when we found out about her diagnosis but she’s as stubborn as her mother.”

“I’ve been beginning to notice,” you sighed, crossing your arms. They were talking about you as if you weren’t here. Dr. Carpenter laughed.

“I’ve been lucky to see this little firecracker grow up,” you saw Tony shift in his seat, the change went unnoticed by the doctor. “Somethings don’t change. So,” he crossed his right leg over his left and leaned back in the chair. “Have you told him everything?”

“Yes,” you said. Well, not everything but baby steps. “He and the other Avengers have been tested to see if they are a match.” The doctor smiled. You knew he was proud of you, you fought tooth and nail against him and the rest of your medical team to find a different way.

“If by chance we don’t find a match, what’s the next step?” Tony asked.

“Plan B,” you sighed.

“Plan B,” Dr. Carpenter repeated.

“What the hell is plan B?” The doctor grabbed a tablet and handed it to the billionaire. You knew it was your medical chart; blood work and other tests. It was a screen you’d stared at for a long time.

“Plan B is increasing her treatment,” he began. “Right now she is on a 3-week cycle- double dosage of chemo on week one, only one dose the following week, and then a week off.” Last week was your week woof, your double dose was tomorrow. “If we don’t find a match, she’ll have to get chemo every week and it be more intense.” Tony handed him back the tablet. You kept your eyes on the floor.

“What are the side effects of this Plan B?” He asked. The doctor sighed.

“Pretty much the same ones she’s experiencing now - nausea, fatigue, headache, and appetite loss but they could be more common and intense,” he explained. “It’s not even a guarantee it will work,” you stole a glance at Tony but he kept his face neutral. “However that is Plan B and we can’t get ahead of ourselves. We have to take it one step at a time, right?”

“Right,” you smiled. When you were younger, some kids were picking on you. You remember you sat in your room with your mom’s arms around you tight and you felt warm and safe. She said, ‘You never know how strong you are until being strong is your only choice.’ Back then you weren’t sure what she meant, you just wanted those kids to stop being mean. But now those words were one of the few things keeping you alive.

*

“Thank you,” you said to the waitress who placed your order down.

“Let me know if you need anything,” she said mostly to Tony. She fluttered her eyelashes and stuck her chest out. You cringed at the pathetic attempt at flirting with a married man no less. But Tony paid no attention to her, more focused on putting ketchup on his food. You cleared your throat. The sound caused Tony to look up at you and then to the waitress.

“Oh uh will do,” she smirked and walked away, taking his awkward rambling as a sign he found her attractive. You chuckled.

“She wanted to fuck you,” you said, taking a bite of your sandwich and you were grateful it tasted okay. It was his turn to cringe.

“Please never say that again,” you laughed, sipping on your water. “So this Dr. Carpenter, you like him?” You could feel the underlying jealousy behind every word. You knew he touched a nerve every time the doctor brought up your mom or the past in some way. You nodded.

“Yeah,” you said. “He’s been positive during this whole process despite how serious it is. But I did like your idea of him touching base with Dr. Cho just in case I get sick at the tower,” you added on quickly. You did believe it was a good idea, especially with how uncertain everything was. He smiled.

“Good but enough about doctors,” he whipped his hands on the napkin. “Tell me more about you. Any lucky ladies or men I have to worry about?” You felt your body warm up and looked away.

“Nope,” you said. “Single as a pringle.” He raised a questioning eyebrow at you. “I’m not talking about my sex life with you.”

“I don’t want to know about your sex life,” he deadpanned. “As long as you are practicing safe sex. I can get you condoms or-”

“Oh my god. Stop,” you cut him off. His smile grew.

“This is nothing to be embarrassed about. This is an important conversation to have.” Tony tried to drop the smile but he was failing miserably. You groaned, covering your face with your hands.

“I’m not having this conversation with you at a sandwich shop of all places,” he laughed, taking your hands off your face.

“Alright, alright,” he said. “I’ll drop it, for now.” You glared at him. “But I’m serious tell me about your life before all this, the stuff your mother didn’t mention in her letters.” You stared at him.

“You read them?”

“Of course. I haven’t finished all of them but I want to know what I missed.” Oh. The more time you spent with the billionaire he kept surprising you.

“Okay,” you smiled. “Yeah, I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

*

“I think that should be it, FRIDAY,” you said, crossing the last item off your list. You were in desperate need of groceries that weren’t going to upset your stomach, especially with your appointment tomorrow.

“Right away, Miss. Easton,” the AI said. “I’ll place the order and have them brought up to you when they arrive at the tower.” Perfect. The kitchen was put together, food was ordered, and your clothes were organized. Next on your list was to hang up some of your canvases. You swallowed an ibuprofen with a tall glass of water and ignored the ache in your bones. All you had to do was push through. You lifted a box onto the couch so it was easier to go through. Your mom always told you you had a spending problem. Whenever you traveled you bought something but you justified it by getting stuff from local artists or small businesses. Smiling, you put some pottery on a small bookshelf. Above the bookshelf, you wanted to hang up a three-piece art insulation that captured a pride of lions. You picked up a hammer and held a nail in your mouth when the room began to spin. “Shit,” you mumbled, resting your forehead on the wall.

“Miss. Easton,” the AI said. “I detect your blood pressure elevating. Should I alert the medical team?” You shook your head. That was a mistake. Black spots covered your vision and the nausea you were feeling only got worse.

“I’m good,” you managed to set the hammer and nail down before slumping to the ground. Your back was against the space on the wall and you grabbed onto the leg of the bookshelf. It grounded you and helped combat the room spinning. You whimpered and closed your eyes. Maybe you weren’t okay. You were just too stubborn to ask for help.

*

Yelena had a plan, all she had to do was unlock Kate’s door and plant the noise device. In a trade of Tony finishing it, she took the test to see if she was a bone marrow match. To be fair, she was going to take the test but why not kill two birds with one stone and ask for a small favor? “Miss. Belova,” FRIDAY said, causing her to stop in front of the archer’s door. “Miss. Easton requires your assistance.” Yelena looked towards your door and hesitated. With a sigh, she rushed over to your room. The door was unlocked and Yelena called out your name. Instead of you answering, the Black Widow heard a groan. You were sitting on the ground, head resting in your hands.

“Hey, Easton,” Yelena gently closed the door and knelt in front of you. “Hi, are you with me?” She whispered, rubbing her finger up and down your arm. It took a moment but you looked up at her, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Blondie,” you said. “What-what are you doing here?”

“Miss. Belova was the closest one to you,” the AI informed you. “I asked her to come check on you when I noticed you were in distress.” You sighed, resting your head back.

“Are you okay?” Yelena asked. “I can go get Stark or Pepper or-”

“I’m fine,” you cut off her nervous rambling. “I just,” you let out a shaky breath, and your eyes locked onto her green ones. “I-”

“What do you need from me?” Yelena found herself asking. The words tumbled past her lips without a second thought. But the way you looked at her made her heart skip.

“Can you sit with me?” You softly asked. “Just until the world stops spinning.” Yelena wordlessly sat down next to you, knees bent and she rested her forearms on top. She couldn’t help but look around your space. It was the same layout she had. Unlike the apartment she helped clean out, the place was a mess. There were boxes everywhere, newspapers on the floor, and very little stuff hung up on the wall. Yelena knew it was because you were still moving in and trying to make this bare space your new home. The Black Widow expected the place to be organized, all pristine and decorated. You seemed like that type of person.

“Your place is a mess,” Yelena said, breaking the silence. You gasped. “I’m serious,” she continued. “I can barely see the floor.”

“Oh shut up, Blondie,” you laughed. “It’s a work in progress.” Yelena hummed.

“If you say so,” you laughed again, hitting your shoulder against hers. She liked the sound of it. Oh, that was not good.

*

He was running the swaps he had available. There were a few that were on their way - the Barton’s in Iowa, Bruce in New Asgard, and Kate, America, and Rhodey were on their way back to the tower. But he had to know, it was killing him. As he waited for the tests, he paced the lap. He had to be a match, he could do this one thing for you. A ding sound pulled him out of his thoughts and he rushed over to his computer. Negative. Negative. Negative. That one word was all he saw. Until he saw something different. A positive. Someone was a match. His hands shook as he clicked on the profile. But the name made his stomach flip. Morgan. It was Morgan. How the hell was he going to tell you or Pepper?

_

taglist: @likemick,

[spenceluvsurmomsblog]

Oh great can you wrote a smut for Jesse katsopolis x fem!reader ? Maybe enemies to lovers ?

Ofc anon!! I won’t even lie to you it’s so hard to find good Jesse fanfics and I love him sm so I’ll try and make this the best I possibly can for you!! 🩷

Content warnings: fighting ? Oral (f receiving) , close call (almost getting caught by Danny) I think that’s it let me know if theres anything I might’ve missed

Also picture isn’t mine!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had been friends with Danny forever he was like your best friend so you were thrilled when he married Pam, you never really got along with Jesse, he was a bad boy and never followed the rules, he rode a motorcycle and wore too much grease in his hair. He was the exact thing your parents wanted you to stay away from, which you had no problem with that every time you were around each other you ended up arguing. After Pam died you had offered to help Danny with the girls promising him you’d be able to keep the arguing with Jesse to a minimum which is what led you here. Danny decided to leave you two alone to try and work out your differences which to no surprise ended up with you two yelling at each other “why do you hate me so much??” you yelled at him and he yelled back “I don’t hate you! Your the one who hates me always yelling at me like that” he countered slowly backing her into the counter. “You’d always ignore me and pretend I didn’t exist!” He sighed pinching his fingers at the bridge of his nose in exhaustion “because I love you and I wanted you to like me so I played hard to get with you” she stared at him in confusion for a second processing his words before crashing her lips against his. He didn’t waste a second in kissing her back grabbing her soft thighs and hoisting her up onto the cabinet. He broke the kiss for a moment to slide her shirt over her head before continuing to kiss her. He kissed her jaw and down her neck beginning suck purple marks into the sensitive skin while she let out soft moans “Jess~” she moaned as he moved down to suck on her sensitive mounds fondling the other with his hand. She carefully lifted her hips as he slid her shorts and panties off in one swift motion before leaving soft kisses on her inner thighs inching closer to her soaked core. She let out a loud moan as he started sucking on her clit causing her to close her thighs around his head as he slowly pumped his fingers in and out of her at a slow pace. “Please I need more” she whined lowly “I know just be patient” he mumbled before diving back between her legs to pull an orgasm from her leaving her thighs trembling before he returned to his position standing between her legs. He unbutton his pants freeing his hard cock from the confines of his tight jeans and gently rubbing hai tip through he sensitive folds before quickly pushing into her weeping hole causing them both to let out a sigh of relief. He waited for her to be ready before he started at a rough pace listening to her moans as he dropped his head back on content “such a good girl for me yeah?” He groaned as she squeezed around him at his words of praise “o-only for you” she stuttered out between moans. After a few more thrusts she came again, he followed after her just in time for them to hear the car pull up outside. They quickly rushed to get their clothes back on and ran to sit on the couch just as Danny walked in with the girls “hey you two how did it go, I see you haven’t killed each other” Danny laughed as he took his coat off hanging it by the door. “It went fine I don’t think we’ll be fighting anymore” Jesse said smirking slyly at her “we solved our differences” she said with a small giggle as Danny nodded and took the girls upstairs to get ready for bed.

I’m so sorry this wasn’t as good as i intended it to be but it helps with my writing skills and getting better so thank you for your request and I hope you enjoyed!!!

[integra1127grimmreaper]

When You Walk In The Room (Joel Miller)

Joel Miller Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Prev

Summary: Pt3 of Could Sure Use Your Company. While you battle with your attraction to Joel, Tommy is doing his best to make the two of you see the obvious. Inspired by - Pam Tillis' - When You Walk In The Room.

You felt like a fool, lusting over a man like Joel Miller; there was no way he would ever be interested in you, not when he could have his pick of more suitable women in Jackson. He probably thought you too young to please a man of his age; there were others closer in age to him and to tell the truth, it pissed you off to know that you’d never stand a chance. Yes, you were barely a teenager when the world went to shit but that was twenty years ago, and you were grown woman now. One that knew what she wanted and by God, did you want Joel Miller. Thing was, Joel wasn’t like other men; he wasn’t one for sweet talk, wasn’t the kind to openly woo a woman. No, he was a hardened man, a rough exterior yet from time to time you’ve caught a hint of the softer side of the man, and it made you want him even more. Problem was, you were too afraid of rejection to muster up the courage to make your feelings known to him, so instead; you admire him from afar whenever he’s in the bar and a bit more openly when he gives your students a demonstration with his guitar.

I can see a new expression on my face I can feel a strange sensation taking place I can hear the guitars playing lovely tunes Everytime that you walk in the room

*

The bar was buzzing as usual for a Friday night, and you were running from one corner of the bar to the next while attempting to keep up with the pace of things. Finally, there’s a slow down at one point as Tommy and you learn against the back shelves of the bar to stare at the crowed room.

“So, how's the guitar lessons goin’?” Tommy enquires out of the blue.

“It ain’t lessons” you remark with a shrug, “Joel was just kind enough to demonstrate a bit for the kids.”

“Maybe ya should ask for private lessons then” Tommy remarks with a knowing smirk.

“Don’t think your brother would be up for that, he’s already done me a huge favour” you stammer with a nervous chuckle, “besides, think he has better things to do than spend his time giving me guitar lessons...”

Tommy nudge you in the side, tilting his toward the door, "why don’t ya ask him.” And as if being summoned by though, there stood in all his rugged glory.

I close my eyes for a second and pretend It's me you want Meanwhile I try to act so nonchalant I see a summer night with a magic moon Everytime that you walk in the room

* “Brother...” Joel nods in greeting toward Tommy, turning toward you then with dimpled smirk as you stared bug-eyed at him, “evenin’ Ma’am.”

Your expression turns to a frown of disapproval at hearing his words, “didn’t I tell ya to call me by name?”

Smirk turning into a full-blown smile, Joel shyly tips his head downward, “that you did.”

Resting your hand on your hip, you flash him a satisfied smirk, “good... or else I’ll start callin’ ya, Uncle Joel.”

Joel smile instantly drops at your words while Tommy chokes on air with laughter next to you. Joel and you both turn to him scowling in disapproval.

“What? It’s funny” he shrugs, whipping tears of laughter away.

“Not that funning” you drawl with an eyeroll, turning to Joel.

“Don’t take it to heart” you place hand over his, shooting him a wink, “you're far too handsome to be my uncle.”

Joel’s mouth drops at your remark and your eyes widen at the realization of what you had spoken out loudly.

“I...I should get back to work” you splutter out, turning abruptly to flee from behind the bar.

Maybe it's a dream come true Standing right alongside of you Wish I could show you how much I care But I only have the nerve to stare

* “Just ask her out already” Tommy’s remark snaps Joel out of daze he was in while watching you work the floor.

“What?” Joel turns to shoot him a surprised scowl.

“It’s sad watchin’ the two of ya dancin’ around one another...” Tommy drawls matter-of-factly, “ya like her, she likes ya. Just ask her out.”

Joel frowns, shaking his head in denial, “she ain’t interested in me.”

Tommy scoffs, softly chuckling, “says who?”

“Me” Joel grunts out, “I’m no good for her.”

“Joel...” Tommy stares him down and he silently shakes his head in response.

“Just pull the stick out ya ass and ask her out before the chance passes.”

Joel lets out a sigh of defeat, silently turning in his seat to look in your direction at the exact moment that you had been staring toward his.

“Can’t believe I said what I said...” you silently chastise yourself, flashing Joel a broad smile to hide your inner turmoil when noticing he was watching you. Joel returns it with a faint dimpled one and you exhale in relief.

“Thank God.”

I can feel that something pounding in my brain Just anytime that someone speaks your name Trumpets sound and I hear thunder boom Everytime that you, every time that you Everytime that you, walk in the room 

Nxt

[pinkydevil16]

Eric northman x reader: part 9 18+ finale

Y/n spent her whole shift biting the skin off the lip and anxiously watching the time tick by, barely listening to anyone just nodding and continuing whatever she was doing. Her mind whirling around as she thought of Eric, she hated admitting that she did like him, she felt stupid when she thought about the kiss. When Sam finally said he was closing up Y/n was buzzing, the sun was down and she could feel Eric becoming impatient aswell as herself, taking her tips she waved at Sam as she climbed into her car. Sitting for a few minutes as she tapped the steering wheel trying to make sure she had a plan, go to fangtasia, tell Eric they needed to talk...somewhere he couldn't just decide to kiss her or distract her, but also somewhere private. Y/n groaned hitting her head on the wheel, she needed to be stubborn, more stubborn than usual and make sure they actually spoke since that morning was still fresh in her mind and she felt like if he kissed her again then she would break. 

"I hate everything about this." Y/n mumbled to herself, finally starting the car and sighing, pushing her hair out her face and driving off, atleast she had a nice drive ahead to think it all through.

By the time Y/n got to fangtasia she had a full plan, pushing through the god botherers she smiled at Pam as she opened the door wide for her, wiping her sweaty hands on her jeans and walking straight to where Eric lounged on the throne. His grin making her want to smile back but she held back, Eric raising an amused eyebrow as she stood in front of him.

"Office. Now." Her words coming out harsher than she thought as Eric gave her a fang filled grin, standing up and placing his hand on her back, Y/n getting deja vu as they walked to the office. The door closing and Eric was already trying to get to her, his hand on her back wrapping around her waist as he pushed her against the door, grinning down at her like he was a shark in bloody waters.

"No! Nope! You get your pale ass over there and stay atleast 2 metres away from me!" Eric licking his lips as he pressed further against Y/n, his eyes on her lips as she slapped a hand over them so he couldn't kiss her. Laughing and walking to his seat where he dropped into it, pulling out his phone and setting a timer.

"You have 2 minutes before i put you against this desk and do what i want to do." Y/n's eyes widening as she tried to remember her plan, moving to grab the phone but Eric already had it back in his pocket. 

"You're insufferable...okay. Okay. I'm going to talk and you listen, then you can talk okay? Great. I don't want to be owned. I don't want to be treated like Sookie is. I don't need you or any other vampires using me or thinking i can be used for an advantage. You can't act like Bill or any other vampire thinking that because i might accept this that suddenly it means i'm at your beck and call okay? This is my life and i'm not giving it up for anything, i'm not being tossed aside once you're done with your toy. I won't be controlled, i don't give a shit how old or strong or whatever you are, i'm my own person. And also you can't just expect me to not go to work because you're being a needy piece of shit or because you don't like that i work during the day or any other bullshit to try to make me be around you all the time. I see how Sookie is, she's constantly being treated like her life doesn't matter outside of Bill's and that shit isn't even fair because the only one out of those two who technically actually has a life is Sookie and i'm not about to be treated like some fucking doll or slave because ooo the big bad viking decided he likes me and wants to-" The timer cut Y/n off, Eric rushing to her and pressing her against the desk, her eyes wide as he caged her in, back pressing into the wood and his body between her legs. 

"Gods you're so hot when you're mad." Y/n's cheeks glowing red as she swallowed, all her willpower leaving her body as Eric caressed her jaw, his fangs popping down as he ran his thumb over her lip.

"Finish your points bunny. Just don't get distracted." Y/n going to speak confused when Eric pulled her shorts and underwear off, dropping to his knees between her legs.

"Eric! I said i wanted to talk." Y/n trying to sit up, Eric pushing her back down and looking at her between her legs with a fang filled grin once more.

"I'm better at showing my points, so you make yours and i'll be doing my counter argument at the same time." Y/n gulping as he ran his fang along her inner thigh, keeping eyecontact as he placed light kisses getting closer and closer to her core waiting for her to speak. 

"Go on bunny or i'll see this as i'm winning the argument." Y/n shaking her head as she dropped back to the desk, starting to talk quickly to get her points out.

"I-i want this to be mutual, no give or take without the other benefitting-" Eric laughed as he delved into her, Y/n's words caught in her throat as her hands grabbed onto his hair, his tongue lazily flicking over her clit as she gasped.

"You- you can't be possessive and, and oh fuuck, and act ou-out because you have some weird cla-cl-claim." Y/n's words stuttering out as her eyes rolled back, Eric's tongue now finding the perfect rythmn, her body buzzing as he ran his hand along her inner thigh teasingly.

"I- i want- want to- to" Y/n unable to string together her final sentences as Eric edges her, knowing exactly what her body needed, her hands tightening in his hair as she moaned wanting to not give up but it felt too good.

"What do you want bunny? Do you want to cum?" Y/n nodding as she moaned out once more feeling his tongue swirl around her clit, thighs tensing at how close she was, the previous points completely gone.

"Say it." Eric demanded, fangs out and grazing against her clit as she let out a sob at the feeling, his eyes staying on her as she shook her head.

"You don't want to cum bunny? I can stay here for hours, bringing you to the edge and watching you be stubborn." Y/n tried to talk, her brain scrambled as she opened her mouth.

"Eric, please we need to-" Her words being cut out as Y/n returned to her clit, choking on her words as she bit her lip, Eric bringing her back to the edge as she whined feeling him pull away.

"You need to cum bunny, just say the word." He knew he had her, her chest rising and falling as he moved to lightly brush his thumb over her clit, her whole body jumping at the contact.

"I- i want to cum." Y/n breathed out, his thumb continuing the slow circles which kept her on the edge, the friction barely holding her over it as she felt the ache between her thighs.

"So close bunny but we both know what i want to hear." Y/n once again shaking her head, turning her head towards the wall as she let out another moan as he pushed his tongue into her, her eyes rolling back at the sensation. Her body building back up as his thumb sped up, his tongue fucking in and out of her as she whimpered needing to cum.

"Fuck, fuck you Eric." Y/n whined out, her back arching as she felt her body about to cum, begging it to just do as she wanted but Eric was quicker stopping completely making her cry out like a child.

"I'm going to fuck you against this desk the second you say it Y/n." Y/n could feel tears in her eyes as Eric began moving his thumb again, bringing her back to the edge quicker this time as she moaned out his name.

"Fuck, okay....i'm- i'm yours Eric. Please let me cum." Y/n blurted out the words, stuttering as his tongue began pushing back inside her, her words barely finished as he smirked against her, speeding up using his powers as her whole body shook, curses coming from her mouth as she came. Moaning his name loudly and head hitting the desk painfully as her whole body arched, trying to get away from the overwhelming sensation. Eric pulling away as she hit against his head, a grin on his lips as he licked them clean, moving to hover over her. Her eyes opening as she groaned pushing him away and turning her face away from him.

"You're an asshole. Seriously i hate you. I take it all back i'm going to go home." Y/n not moving as she spoke, Eric pulling her face back to him and kissing her, her body melting into it as he gripped her thigh.

"I agree to all your points except you are mine, and i am yours. Those are the exceptions." Y/n searching his face for any deception and nodding as he kissed her again, making her smile as he pulled her against him, Y/n moaning as he ground into her. Eric stripping himself quickly before pushing into her, Y/n moaning out as she grabbed at his arms, his lips finding her neck as he sucked a dark mark onto her.

"Fuck Eric, give a girl a warning." Y/n joked, breathlessly speaking as he pulled back and pushed back into her, the air being knocked from her lungs as he did, his hand dropping to the desk as he pounded into her. Y/n barely able to hold onto his at the pace, eyes rolled back and head against the wood. Eric groaning as he kissed along her neck feeling the wood crack and splinter under his thrusts until it broke, Y/n yelping as Eric moved them to the wall, her back meeting the cold surface as her eyes widened seeing the broken desk. Finding Eric's grinning face as he pulled her into another kiss, her hands winding around his neck as she broke away moaning, gripping his shoulders as she hissed out at the delicious pain cumming once more.

"Fuck, you, you broke the desk." Y/n moaned out, Eric shrugging as he grazed his fangs against her deck desperate to bite her.

"I'll break everything if i get to have you like this." Y/n laughter interrupted by a moan as he moved them to the sofa, the new angle making her moan out, seeing a crack on the wall from where his hand had pressed into it when she came around him, the sight making her whine at his strength. Her own brain short circuiting as she felt every inch of him inside her, perfectly hitting against her as she clenched around him.

"Bite me please." She was so close and wanted him to do it more than ever, Eric pulling back and looking into her lustful eyes before kissing her, kissing down her neck until he grazed his fangs, a loud moan coming out her mouth as he sunk them into her. Her body freezing in pain until the pleasure took over, her whole body feeling like air as she came again, Eric groaning the taste of her blood and the feeling of her cunt clenching and soaking his cock made him cum. His mouth detaching from her neck ad he slowed, piercing his finger and healing the wound as he pulled out, Y/n flopping against the bed as all her limbs went limp. Only a blissed out smile on her face.

"Are you okay bunny?" Eric asked, he could feel the euphoria flowing off her making him smirk as she gave him a happy grin closing her eyes.

"Mhm, very okay." Eric laughing as he picked her up, carrying her into the bathroom, taking a quick look at his office where he'd broken almost everything, helping her into the shower. His body holding her up as he let the hot water spray over her making her let out a content hum opening her eyes, pulling him into a kiss as she relaxed under the water. 

"This is nice." Y/n mumbled, barely staying awake as Eric washed her, the latter agreeing as he pushed her hair out her face admiring her face.

"It is." Eric kissed her forehead with a soft smile. Happy she was finally his. 

True blood taglist:

@m00n5t0n3 @celibacy-or-death @elle4404 @katsav17 @

[sixxrock666]

I saw your post about Pamela and I was wondering if you could write some smut for Pamela with a female reader

Warm cinnamon nights

summary: you and Pam take a break in a cozy cabin

Pamela Anderson x f!Reader

words: 1516

warnings: wlw, lesbian smut; fingering, oral nicknames

this one is for all the Pamela lovers :)

Yours and Pamelas relationship was still pretty fresh and as much as you two enjoyed each other's company you wanted to keep things on the low, away from all the media, magazine headliners and radios.

Therefore you two decided to spend a week in a snowy cozy cabin up the mountain, away from the press, away from the world.

You have just entered through the door of your tiny wooden cabin. Stepping inside, the snow from your boots flaked to the ground as you two were greeted by the warmth of the small space.

You watched Pam in her pretty fluffy sweater trying to remove her chunky boots. As she was untying her bootlaces you couldn't help but notice how her cheeks and nose were tinted a slightly pinkish color from the cold breeze, that was nipping at her milky skin just a few minutes ago.

When Pamela finished removing her winter layers she took a hold of her messy hair and placed it a somewhat messy bun, letting a few strands of her blond hair to fall down and frame her face.

She caught you staring and a small smile formed on her lips. She placed her cold hands on both sides of your cheeks and pressed a sweet wet kiss to your lips.

Her lips, cold from the winter wonderland outside felt perfectly against yours. Pamela felt like a warm hug despite her cold hands and lips.

"do you want some hot cocoa dear"

"I would love that"

you answered all smitten because you couldn't believe this woman was yours. You couldn't help the smile that creeped onto your face at the thought. Pamela fucking Anderson was yours.

You watched as Pam moved to the tiny stove in your cabin and put on the kettle of milk. The way she moved around in those leggings of hers with that big sweater made your heart ache. Pamela was so so sweet and good. You just wanted to embrace her, snuggle up to her and never let go.

She mixed in the cocoa powder while leaning against the kitchen counter. Her gaze was focused on the cup in front of her so you could take your time admiring your girl.

Pam finally placed the cup of the warm beverage in your hands and settled beside you on the couch. She leaned into your frame as she held her own cup with both of her hands and brought it close to her face, so she could warm herself up.

You two sipped the cocoa for a while just enjoying each other's presence in the tiny room filled with the smell of delicious cinnamon and fireplace wood. You could see the snow pick up outside the window but you couldn't care less as you were cuddled up to Pamela with fuzzy socks and blankets.

When you two finished the drink you placed the empty cups on the table, now fully warmed up. You placed your elbow on the top of the couch and leaned your head in the palm of your hand, while looking up at Pammy.

Pamela immediately noticed your gaze and turned towards you, a smile decorating her beautiful face. The dreamy eyes you looked at her with, were full of emotion and adoration and Pamela was so greatfull

she got the chance to call you hers.

So she pulled you closer and placed a slow kiss to your lips, hoping she could convey her emotions clearly. You could feel the warmth radiating off of her body as you pulled her closer.

The innocent kiss full of love quickly turned into a kiss of passion and lust. Pam lightly tugged at your bottom lip as she pulled you on her lap. Her hand slowly caressed your thigh while yours were lost in her hair, messing up her bun even more.

The kiss deppened as you two couldn't keep your hands to each other. Pamela was leaving kisses all over. All over your lips, cheeks, face, and eventually moved down towards your neck. Each kiss was more aggressive until the kisses turned into light nipping and bitting.

She sucked the skin on your neck and kissed it after, causing a soothing sensation, while her hands were tracing your breasts.

You were trying your best to hold back the moans that were on the brink of escaping but some soft , rather loud breaths were still released.

You held onto Pamela, with your needyness increseasing as seconds went by. You could feel your skin prickle at her touch, causing you to released a needy moan.

She pulled away for a second to look at the state you were in and smirked lightly.

“Wait don't pull away...not yet" you hurriedly said, needing her right now but she just chuckled.

"Don't worry sweetheart you'll get what you want"

Pamela placed a light short kiss to your forehead before sneaking her hands underneath your sweater and pulling it over your head.

Pamela backed up a little so she could admire her gorgeous girlfriend. Her hands started tracing up from your stomach, slowly with her fingers barely touching your skin, all the way up to your breasts.

Pam caught your eyes for a second and smiled

"You are beautiful sweetheart"

At that comment you couldn't help but look away from embarrassment. Sure you were used to it at this point but something about this moment just felt so intimate.

"Don't hide baby" Pamela whispered as she traced her fingers across your nipples. You whimpered at her touch but looked at her figure regardless.

Pamela was breathtaking, her hair was a mess her blond strands flowing everywhere, no longer secured with a hair tie. The big sweater slipped off her shoulders exposing a bit of her skin.

If that wasn't an invitation for you to remove the  piece of clothing you don't know what is. So you pulled the sweater off to reveal the curve of her breast. But Before you could reach out pamela gently pushed you down towards the couch and hovered over you.

She nestled herself between your legs before kissing her way down toward the hem of your sweat pants. She gently tugged the pants down along with your panties dropping them somewhere on the floor before focusing back on the meal in front of her.

She placed your legs over her shoulders and then lightly kissed the top of your clit before giving it a cat like lick. You shuddered at the feeling as your hands found their way to her hair once again. You were so impatient you couldn't help yourself but tug her face closer to you cunt.

Pamela immediately understood and dived in, gaining a loud moan out of you. Your legs closed around her head, locking her in place but your sweet Pammy continued the heavenly work down there.

She licked and sucked on your clit while her fingers started teasing your dripping entrance. You on the other hand were a shaking moaning mess with your fingers tangled in her blond locks.

"Pammy baby please, you know what i want…don't make me spell it out for you"

you whined hoping she will understand and stick those teasing fingers in already.

You could feel her smile again your cunt as she finally slid in two of her fingers. Your body pushed forward, immersed in pure pleasure. Her fingers started pumping in and out, hitting the perfect spot every time.

You hands were still buried in her hair tugging and pulling as you were chasing your high.

Pamelas other hand found her way to your belly where she pushed down to keep you in place. Her tongue sped up the constant sucking and licking while her fingers arched just the right way.

Your body leaned into the pleasure and orgasm you knew was coming. It seemed like Pamela could feel it as well.

“Cum for me sweetheart”

Her voice came out as a bare mumble since she was so preoccupied with you. With the last few licks the overwhelming feeling finally snapped as you came all over Pammy face.

She let you use her face as you went through your high.

Pam finally peeled herself away, her mouth glistening with the remains of your cum. Pamela looked up at you and smiled sweetly.

The scene before you was so arousing, with Pamelas breasts pressed against the couch and her gorgeous gorgeous face covered in your juices. It got you aching for her all over again.

You pulled her upwards and kissed her hard. The taste of your cum was still lingering in her mouth as you pressed your lips together.

You pulled away after the short kiss with your forehead still against hers.

“I love you Pam” you whispered, still holding her close.

“I love you y/n”

You couldn’t help the bubbly feeling you felt whenever she said those words and as much as you would like to reminisce in the feeling you had other feelings at the moment that seemed more important.

“now it’s my turn” you smirked as you kissed her hard.

☆彡⁂𐬺✩★𐬿

[rae-raewrites]

Arkham and btas Harley falls in love with s/o after joker

Finally some Harley stuff on this blog!

Warning:mentions of physical and emotional abuse,death

Arkham harley

Poor kid is still recovering from what happened holloween and what happened back at Arkham City

The pain of losing joker was bad enough but then 5 chances to get him back and ivy’s death only made her sadness worse.

So when you appear in her life and she starts laughing at your jokes she genuinely has to take a second to think

Wait,only mr j ever got her to laugh that much…….

Let’s just say her hearts a fluttering mess now.

She’s constantly leaving you stuff animals with red balloons with diamonds tied to their writs.

Oh and maybe some candy she stole an hour ago!

Now this is Harley so disagreements are bound to happen but when you raise your voice to be once she’s genuinely prepared for a hit

Eyes smooshed closed and shaking in place

But nothing ever comes.

It’s kinda a whiplash after all the years she took the abuse.

Be gentle when you hug her,she’s gonna need a lot reassurance now.

“Ya know your a lot different than mr j,you know that puddin?”

Btas

Ivy was her first big step getting away from joker like baking a cake

What Pam doesn’t expect is you coming into the picture and giving the cake frosting. The two of you trying to pull her away from the smiling psychopath

In the middle of a crime she accidentally grabs,one of the trick guns with the “bang!” Flag

When you pull the trigger and realize what happened she shrinks back expecting to get screamed at.

“Harley?! Hey it’s okay just pass me another!”

“O-oh! Right!”

She already starts to fall for ya by this point but then the event at the asylum happens.

You’re a sobbing mess when you heard from the dark knight she fell. But then he informs you no body.

A whole week later she comes back,in such an awful state she barley has energy to stand at the front door.

You know you can’t bring her to the hospital,so instead you nurse her back to health.

You end up begging her not to go back to crime. Jokers dead,Pam ran off awhile ago not leaving much for you to go off of, there’s nothing for the both of you there now. Joker went so far as to rope her in on hurting a kid this time. They’ve passed a line.

She starts to feel different……more loved. Like you’re really the best thing in this life now. Less like she’s constantly on a tightrope and now on solid ground.

Batman while on his usual patrols one day stumbles upon the two of your weekly date at the little malt shop down the road.

[separatist-apologist]

What A Time To Be Alive

I just need someone to hold me, even though you don't even know me

Summary: The prompt was: Modern AU where Lucien is a tiktoker who posts POVs and Elain always wants to duet them to be the love interest he’s talking to but she doesn’t bc how could he ever be interested in a girl like her… UNTIL SHE DOES

Note: Big thanks AND dedicated to @ablogofbipanic who thought she could give me unwritable prompts. I'll write anything.

Read on AO3

-

Elain Archeron recognized that deck. Recognized the parking lot below and, when the camera zoomed out for a moment, recognized the white coup sitting in a patch of hot California sun. That was her apartment complex broadcast to an audience of one point two million people. 

And her upstairs neighbor filming another tiktok. 

Jackinthefox. Everyone thought his name read Jack, but Elain knew his name was actually Lucien Vanserra given how often his mail was shoved into her slot. Mostly junk coupled with the occasional energy bill. Lucien, with his sun kissed, golden brown skin and auburn hair that fell past his shoulders. She’d caught him in the basement gym once, lifting weights in a shirt so loose she could see all the carved muscle just beneath. 

She’d started working out at night to avoid him. 

It seemed Elain couldn’t avoid him on tiktok, though. No matter how quickly she swiped through his videos on her feed, they always came back. Look at me, they seemed to demand. Look at how handsome I am.

Yeah, yeah. Lucien was absurdly good looking, a fact he must have been well aware of. To his credit, he didn’t react to the thirst comments people left for him like other tiktokkers. And he always kept his shirt on, which honestly was a crime. If the women following him learned what lurked beneath, they’d riot. 

Lucien did dance, occasionally, though always to 90’s boybands—Elain liked those videos best, not that she’d ever admit it. What Lucien did, primarily, were POV’s to popular television shows. Usually the Office, though he did a fair amount of New Girl, too. And women practically lined up to duet him, hoping to be the Jim to his Pam. 

While Lucien had exploded in popularity during quarantine, Elain had a more modest following of ten thousand people following her for her aesthetic baking videos. And while Elain had a good time baking bread in cute aprons in front of her window, what she secretly wanted was to duet Lucien back.

She didn’t have the guts. What was worse, she thought, was duetting him, being ignored, and having to give him his mail when it was inevitably put in her box again. He’d know she had a crush on him and probably laugh behind her back.

Or maybe not—but Elain didn’t dare risk it. Not when she had one of the last affordable and nice units left in California. Close to the beach, within walking distance of her favorite grocery store…and with the hot, upstairs neighbor. 

It was hot that day, which made going to the store a miserable venture. Elain was making lemon bars and had run out of nearly everything. If there was a hell, surely it was hauling massive canvas bags of flour, sugar, and lemons in the California heat. By the time she reached her building, Elain was drenched in sweat. In the distance, she could hear the screaming laughter of children in the pool, and the smell of chlorine blew in on a rubber and asphalt scented breeze. 

She just wanted to get inside the cold building, to park herself naked in front of a fan, and stay there until winter arrived.

Elain went to yank open the glass door and drag herself up the flight of stairs to her unit. She fumbled with the metal handle, hot beneath the sun and her sweaty fingers.

“I’ve got it,” called a familiar, masculine voice. Honeyed and deep, rich and warm like the day she was so desperate to flee, Lucien Vanserra must have had one of the nicest voices she’d ever heard. A moment later he’d wedged his towering frame in the door so she could slip past. Lucien’s russet colored eyes slid to the bags hanging from her shoulders.

“Want help?” he asked, reaching for one of the straps.

Elain tried to protest— “No, I’ve got it—”

But he’d already taken two bags in one hand like it was nothing to him. He reached for the other two and suddenly Elain was freed of her obligations. She knew he saw how she exhaled with relief, a smile quirking over his full lips. Lucien was in another loose tanktop and basketball shorts. 

Like herself, Lucien was slick with sweat, which made her feel a little better. They were both disgusting, which somehow put them on equal footing. 

“What are you baking today?” he asked with a sidelong glance. Elain’s eyebrows shot skyward. She followed him up the purple carpeted steps, a relic from some mythical time period in which purple carpet made sense. Though, it did add a certain charm to the otherwise beige, fingerprint stained walls. 

“What do you know about my baking?” Elain asked, hoping she sounded appropriately flirty and not breathless with wonder. 

“I know that I tried those cranberry bars you posted last week and they turned out like shit.”

“That sounds like user error,” she replied, trying so hard not to grin. He watched her videos? Elain could have died. 

“Oh, if definitely was,” he said cheerfully, keeping easy pace with her. “They tasted good, though. What are you making today?”

She swore those eyes of his looked hungry. “Lemon bars.”

Still, he grinned. “Can’t wait to fuck those up, too.”

She could have invited him in. As they reached the landing and her door a mere three steps away, Elain could have asked Lucien to help her bake. Lord knew he would have looked great on camera, even if no one ever saw her face on tiktok. They had to follow her on instagram for that. Still, Lucien’s hands were big and broad and her mostly female audience probably would have liked seeing them as much as Elain liked watching him hold her groceries. 

She didn’t invite him in. The words got tangled in her throat, jumbled so when she dug her keys out of her pocket, she heard herself say, “Well…thank you for the help.” “Anytime,” Lucien replied smoothly, handing her the bags without complaint. He didn’t look around her to try and get a glimpse of her apartment, nor did he offer to come in and help. Elain appreciated that so much, though it was truly a low bar in terms of not being pushy.

“Catch you around,” he said with a wink, turning back for the steps. Elain admired the shifting muscles of his back for a moment—just until he rounded the corner. His thundering steps seemed to clear her head, if only a little.

He was just being neighborly. Friendly.

He watched her videos. 

The first thing she did the second she got inside was whip out her phone. And sure enough, buried in her notifications, was Lucien Vanserra quietly liking months of baking videos. How many had he made? All those months of agonizing about dueting him while he was liking all her videos and making her recipes…Elain felt giddy.

She felt like pulling out her ring light, after showering and carefully applying her make up, and dueting his latest video.

New Girl.

Elain loved New Girl.

LUCIEN:

Flopped on his couch, phone on the coffee table, Lucien replayed the afternoon in his mind. He’d been looking for an excuse to talk to Elain for the better part of a year. Ever since her sourdough video popped up on his for you page. He’d been in a dark place then—a new transplant to California for grad school, lonely and now quarantined before he’d had the chance to make new friends. Lucien had never felt so isolated in his life. His whole life was on the east coast, and even if he’d wanted to drop out and go home, there were no flights to take him.

He sure as shit wasn’t making that drive, either. So Lucien did what everyone else did, and began mindlessly scrolling tiktok. He’d recognized the kitchen those delicate hands worked in, and though it made him feel a little creepy, he’d followed the link in her bio to her instagram page only to find the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his entire life living directly beneath him.

Lucien had tried to stage several run-ins with her. At the gym, in the parking lot, even at the pool though it was closed. Elain had never taken the bait. In fact, she barely looked at him at all. Lucien supposed, with a face as beautiful as hers, he simply didn’t register. That didn’t stop him from trying.

And when he couldn’t make conversation with her in person, Lucien turned back to the internet. He ordered a ring light off amazon and made his first video, hoping she’d see it like he’d seen hers. He’d heard her watching New Girl through the vents so he knew she liked it. 

After a year, though, Lucien was starting to think it was time to give up on Elain Archeron. Maybe she had a boyfriend. Maybe he wasn’t her type. Hell, maybe she didn’t even like men. They were still in lockdown, still only supposed to go out for essentials, and maybe Elain didn’t want to risk getting sick on his account.

Lucien had sworn he was going to give up. His titkok had blown up by that point—surely she must have seen him at least once. Must have realized he was her neighbor. She could have liked one of his videos if she’d wanted, and she hadn’t.

All that changed with a little ding of his phone. Lucien reached for it, replaying walking her up to her apartment. She’d looked so good, with her golden brown curls stuck to her sweaty forehead, and how the heat had caused the yellow of her strappy sundress to conform to her tan skin. Lucien had forced his eyes forward and his mind anywhere but how she might look beneath him, just as sweat soaked and flushed. How those little, panting breaths might feel against his neck and fuck he had been so close to asking if she wanted help baking before he’d retreated, half hard just from the nearness of her.

He needed to think about something else. Lucien picked up his phone, illuminated in the last pinky rays of daylight pouring through the sliding glass of his balcony doors. Flipping open his phone, Lucien’s heart leapt into his throat.

Areyoubreadyforit dueted your video!

Lucien’s hands all but shook as he watched. She’d changed into a pretty blue top—or dress, he couldn’t tell—and lipsynced through the words, talking to him. Gorgeous, like always, bright eyed and confessing her pretend feelings for him through the medium of a POV video. 

Be cool, he told himself even as he slipped on his shoes. Don’t do anything stupid.

Famous last words as Lucien went outside into the dry heat for the escape ladder that would take him straight down to the parking lot.

Or her deck, a floor below. 

This is charming, he told himself, well aware he was skirting the line of crazed upstairs stalker. Why not go down the hall and knock on her front door? It was too late—the minute his feet hit the wood, Elain Archeron looked up from the kitchen. Her eyes went wide when she saw him, cheeks covered in a light dusting of flour. 

Lucien raised his hand and mouthed, hey.

Elain came to the door, wiping her hands on a pretty pink and white dotted apron. “Hey,” she said, clearly surprised. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he lied. What Lucien really wanted to say was I like you, but that felt too much given he was standing on her deck like a maniac all because she’d dueted one video. “I ah—I came to see if you wanted any help. With your bars, I mean.”

“Oh,” she murmured, her eyes sweeping over his body. He’d showered after the gym, and still he felt self conscious as he pressed a hand to his stomach through the white fabric of his shirt. “I was actually about to make dinner.”

Lucien’s stomach fell for only a moment as Elain added, “Do you like chicken?”

“I love chicken,” he replied, unwilling to admit he would have eaten trash if she offered it. “Anything to watch the famous Elain Archeron cook.”

Pink stained her cheeks. “Hardly. I think it’s you who is famous, right?”

Lucien followed her into her apartment. The set up was the same—a living room that opened into a kitchen, and a hall that he knew would lead to both a bedroom and a bathroom. Every night, she laid just beneath him. 

Maybe tonight, too, if he was lucky. That seemed distinctly like pushing things and yet Lucien still hoped as he closed the door behind him. 

“Hardly,” he said, flashing her a smile. She didn’t realize all those followers were merely a monument to his crush on her. Elain glanced over her shoulder, still in the blue dress from the video. 

“I guess you saw my duet?” 

Her blush was so pretty. Lucien could do nothing but follow after her and try and keep his jaw off the floor. Did she know? Did Elain have any clue the effect she had on him merely by existing? That he wanted to wipe the flour off her face with his tongue? 

“It was cute,” he said, bracing his elbows against the counter so he could watch. She wasn’t lying about the chicken—she was currently tying twine around an entire bird she’d seasoned rather nicely. “What took you so long?”

She scoffed. “It was the first interesting video you’d made all year.”

So she had seen them. Lucien’s heart was pounding in his chest. Oh god, oh god, oh god— “Tell me what interests you so I can better curate your experience.”

“I liked the Backstreet Boys videos,” she said, the pretty menace.

“Yeah? And if I make them again, are you going to dance with me?”

Her whole face was flaming red. Elain ducked, sliding her pan into the oven as she said, “I don’t know the steps.”

“I can teach you.” Fuck, Lucien could teach her anything she wanted to know—the steps to cheesy 90’s boy band music, how he liked to be kissed— 

“I’ll bet you could,” she replied, those eyes cutting right through him. “Did you come down here to hit on me?”

“That depends,” Lucien grinned back, letting his gaze slide to her mouth. “Do you find it charming or creepy?”

Elain angled her chin as she contemplated. “Charming,” she declared with a pretty smile. Fuck Lucien had to fist his hands at his sides to keep himself casual and in place. 

Leaned against the laminate counter, Lucien didn’t dare let his eyes drift below her neck though he fucking wanted to really look at her. 

“Does it count as a date if you do all the cooking?”

Elain exhaled a puff of air. “Do you want this to be a date?”

God, Lucien wanted nothing else. He offered her what he prayed was a roguish smile. “Yeah, actually.”

She hesitated. “For…for content?”

“Because I’ve had a pathetic crush on you ever since I moved in,” he replied easily. There was no way in hell he was going to let her think his interest was about titkok fame. One day Lucien would be a lawyer, his tiktoks a blurry memory—his hobby when the world had shut down and nothing more. He had no interest in being an influencer or an actor. 

His interest was standing directly in front of him wearing a blue sundress and smeared in flour. 

“Oh,” she murmured, her face pink again. “I guess this could be a date. I do have some wine I got from Costco.”

“My favorite,” he lied—again, Lucien would have drank sewer water if she was offering. “I can plan the next date, make it more romantic.”

“Next date?” she teased, pulling out two wine glasses. “You’re awfully confident.”

Lucien only shrugged, at a loss for words. “Hedging my bets.”

Elain offered him a glass of red and when Lucien took a drink, he could hear his older brothers sneering words in his head—grape drink—Eris called anything under one hundred dollars that.

The alcohol took some of the edge off his nerves. Elain was closer than she’d ever been willingly, standing in front of him with that glass pressed to her lips. Lucien wanted to be it, wanted to know what it felt like to have her touch him like that. 

“That’s awfully bold,” she said, her voice light and breathless. Fuck fuck fuck.

Lucien set his glass to her nice, round table before he dared a step closer. She was so much shorter than him, would have to lean up on her tiptoes to kiss him if she wanted. God how he hoped she wanted to. 

“Isn’t the saying fortune favors the bold?” he murmured, brushing a curl from her cheek. Her skin was so soft, so warm beneath his fingertips. “Maybe it’ll favor me, too.”

Elain looked up through dark, thick lashes. “That was corny.”

He cocked his head as she dared a step toward him and oh my god, this was happening. Lucien didn’t dare breathe when she angled her chin, her thick cascade of hair falling down her shoulders. Eyes bright with invitation. All he had to do was not fuck this up. Just one kiss, which was more than he’d had for an entire year, despite wanting her that long. 

“All that matters is that my corny line worked,” he replied, reaching for her cheek. Lucien threaded his fingers through her hair before lowering himself to her. She surged upward, meeting him in the middle for what he thought was the most perfect first kiss in the history of first kisses. She smelled like rosemary and tasted like sugared lemon. Her mouth was soft, her fingers curling against his biceps as she reached for something to steady herself.

It was over far too quickly. Lucien wanted to yank her against him. To haul her up on the table and declare she was the only meal he was interested in. Already, his body was far tighter than he would have liked—all the blood he needed to form sentences was currently rushing to his cock. 

Elain smiled as she lowered herself back to the ground. “So uh…dinner?”

Lucien’s eyes nearly rolled back into his skull at the breathless way she said those words.

“I’m yours to command,” he said stupidly. “Tell me where you want me.”

He didn’t miss how her eyes darted toward the hall. He’d go, if she told him to. Lucien would lay flat on the bed and let her do every depraved thing she was thinking of—he’d thank her for it, even. Lucien didn’t care what it was, as long as they were both naked and— “Bread?” she was saying, though she, too, sounded far away.

“Yeah,” he replied, praying she didn’t look down at his shorts. “Whatever you want.”

ELAIN:

Whatever you want. 

What she wanted was for Lucien Vanserra to take off his shirt and let her lick the line between his abs straight to his— “How is this?” he asked, pulling out a loaf pan of bread he’d been working on.

“It’s good,” she lied. It was sagging in the middle, but not a bad first try given they were both distracted. It had been one polite kiss. One kiss. 

One kiss where he’d cupped her whole face in the palm of his hands. Now she knew he smelled like sunshine and woodsy smoke and how his arms felt beneath her fingers. It was too much knowledge for her small kitchen and her overactive imagination. Lucien was being perfectly polite, unaware that Elain was trying to figure out how to get him into her bedroom. 

Did she just ask? Did she say, hey Lucien, do you want to have sex with me—

What happened if he said no? Elain didn’t think she could stand the rejection after that kiss. She wouldn't just have to move out of her building, but the whole state if she wanted to escape him. While she carved the chicken, Lucien refilled their wine glasses and set the table, glancing over at her surreptitiously. Likely wondering why she was acting so strange. 

Lucien had a talent for keeping the conversation going which Elain immensely appreciated. She didn’t have to think about what to say—not when he so effortlessly had a comeback for everything she said. He maintained eye contact and somehow managed to be funny and laid back and charming.

She should have sent him home. He was dangerous. Elain had the distinct feeling that a man like Lucien Vanserra could very easily ruin her life. Which was why, when dinner was over and a third glass of wine seemed ruinous, Elain meant to say, You should probably go home.

But what she actually said was, “Do you want to stay and watch a movie?”

Lucien’s eyes gleamed. “Of course.”

God, he knew. He knew what she was trying to do when he slid off his tennis shoes and padded to the couch, one strong arm slung over the back of the white sofa. “Something scary,” he told her when she began scrolling, so close her arm was brushing his chest.

“Subtle,” she joked, daring to look up at him. That was a mistake. Lucien’s expression seemed to burn, lips parted as though that were the only way for him to get in enough oxygen. She felt the same—worse, maybe, when his fingers gripped her chin gently, tilting her face toward him.

“I wasn’t trying to be subtle,” he said, his mouth brushing hers. “In fact, I’d like to be a lot less subtle. Skip the movie and ask me to stay with you tonight.”

“What about the second date?” she asked, afraid if she slept with him, he’d go back to ignoring her.

“We’ll start when we wake up. I was thinking a picnic,” he panted, his thick, long hair forming a curtain around them. 

“You’re just saying that so I’ll invite you into the bedroom.”

Lucien smiled, his eyes fluttering shut. “You have no idea, Elain. Absolutely no idea how long I’ve been trying to get your attention.”

“How long?” she challenged, wondering why she was still dragging this out. All she wanted was to kiss him again. Longer, this time. Long enough all her good sense evaporated beneath the heat of his body. 

“When did I create that account, again?” he asked. She opened her mouth to call him a liar and Lucien pressed his advantage. This kiss was not like before. There was no hesitance, not tentative, polite pressing of the lips. Lucien knew he had her—or, perhaps he was afraid she’d come to her senses and he needed to take what he could before that happened.

All Elain knew was one moment she’d been about to speak and the next his mouth was slanted against her own. One of his arms wrapped around her, pulling her into his lap before Elain could protest.

As if she would have. Elain was too quick to straddle his waist, well aware she was in a dress and the only thing keeping her from being fully bare against him was a thin strip of cotton already wet from the kiss before. Not that Lucien seemed to be faring much better given the moment she was seated against him, she could feel his own erection poking up through his shorts. 

Good, she thought with delight. Arms wrapped around his neck, Elain kissed him like she, too, was never going to get another shot at him. His tongue swept into her mouth, pulling the most embarrassing, unexpected moan from her throat.

Beneath her, Lucien seemed to buck unintentionally. He held her tighter, pushing her against him until his straining cock was lined up with her perfectly. It was experimental, to roll her hips against his shorts. Just to see what would happen if she did. 

Lucien groaned. Loud and sweet, right into her mouth, fingers digging into the fabric of her dress in an attempt to get her to do it again. It had been so long since Elain had kissed anyone—even before quarantine and the pandemic, Elain hadn’t been with anyone since she’d broken up with her ex. 

It was good, the taste of him in her mouth and his hands on her body. Knowing he wanted her, had wanted her maybe as long as she’d wanted him. That they were in this little hell together, desperate and needy. Elain arched again, rubbing herself against the hard slap of his body until Lucien pulled his mouth off her.

“Elain, Elain have mercy. Please,” he panted, sweeping his thumbs over her cheeks as he gulped down air. “You’re going to make me come if you keep that up.”

She didn’t believe him, rolling against his erection again. Lucien threw his head back, moaning while his back arched up off the couch. He was so absurdly hot, so ridiculously sexy. She yanked at his shirt, lifting it over his chest and throwing it to the floor.

“Maybe I want you to come,” she replied, hands gliding down the muscular planes of his body. 

Lucien’s dark eyes fell on her and in one smooth, fluid motion, he had them both on their feet.

Well, he was on his feet. She was in his arms while he strode purposefully through her apartment to her bedroom.

“How do you know where I sleep?” she asked when he tossed her to the rosy duvet. 

He angled his head toward the ceiling. “Same layout. How many nights have you laid just below me, touching that pretty pussy of yours, Elain?”

“Almost as many as I’ve touched myself thinking about you,” she dared to reply. Lucien doubled over, hands gripping the edge of the bed frame to steady himself. She gestured toward her nightstand, determined that her night with Lucien would live up to how she’d imagined it. “Would you like to see?”

He groaned again. “Yes. Show me.”

Elain sat up, eyes never leaving Lucien’s face as she reached behind her for the zipper. She had to stand to shimmy out of her dress, noting how white his knuckles were. He was clearly holding to the wood for dear life, which made stripping all the more fun. The wine helped with her nerves, leaving her own hands steady as she removed her bra and then so, so slowly, pulled her underwear to her ankles.

“Fucking christ,” he whispered, breathing through his nose like a wild, near feral animal. 

“Don’t move,” she reminded him as she laid herself back out on the bed. She’d get herself mostly there, she told herself. Spreading apart her thighs, Elain let Lucien see her fully unclothed just like she’d imagined.

“What’s in the drawer?” he asked when she raked her nails lightly over her parted legs.

“Things that vibrate. Do I need one?” she asked him, thinking she likely did.

“Not tonight,” he whispered, his gaze fully on her pussy. “I have other ideas.”

Elain’s fingers slid through the wetness coating her skin and Lucien whimpered. “What ideas?” she asked, rubbing slow circles over her clit. In truth, she rarely touched herself like this, preferring the ease of vibrating toys. It was fun to tease him, though. To see his obvious want written all over his face. To see the straining bulge in his shorts. 

Lucien, as if reading her mind, yanked them off over his hips, kicking them onto the floor without looking. It was Elain’s turn to whimper at the sight of his large, thick cock now held in his equally large hand. 

He pumped himself once, unaware of the thrill of arousal that spiked through her. She understood how a little grinding could bring him so close to the edge. If he kept stroking himself, she was likely to come, too. The sight of his muscular body, how his cock seemed big despite his hands, how hungry his eyes were was all too much. 

“What ideas, Lucien?” she asked again, still drawing lazy circles around that swollen nub of flesh. Lucien came closer and closer still, until he was at the side of the bed. Lifting his body onto the mattress with one powerful thigh, straddling her stomach so his cock nestled between her bare breasts.

“Fuck, Elain,” he whispered, thrusting up between the valley of skin. She pressed them together, using her fingers still sticky from her own arousal to tease the slick head of his erection. 

Their eyes met. “Do you have a condom, Lucien?”

He groaned. That was a no.

“Upstairs,” he said, thrusting again and again, slowly, clearly doing so for the view. She could have scooted a few inches and found his cock in her mouth. It was so tempting, and yet the moment she began to readjust herself, Lucien was swinging his body off of hers and throwing his shorts back on.

“Don’t move,” he ordered, his voice ragged.

A second later, he was gone. No shirt, no shoes. Her door slammed shut as he raced back upstairs. Elain heard him thudding inelegantly overhead, heard his door slam, and then a second later he was back.

“Hard to fucking run like this,” he panted, ripping his shorts off again. Elain reached for him, wanting to kiss him as he tossed several foiled packets to the bed but Lucien fell to his knees loud enough the people below her likely heard, grabbed her by the knees, and dragged her right to the edge.

Without preamble, his mouth was on her and Elain understood why he’d said no to the vibrating toys. “Oh, god,” she moaned, the sound echoed by his own appreciative groan. Elain had to clap a hand over her mouth to keep herself silent even as she pressed her thighs around her face, ankles crossed behind his head. 

Lucien’s tongue was far better than her fingers, than any toy she could possibly own. Lucien licked with expert, unyielding precision and when one of his fingers slid into her body, Elain was wrecked. Grinding into him with shameless abandon. She’d never been so easy like this, so unconcerned about being sexy versus just chasing pleasure. 

Lucien pumped one, and then two, before finally working a third finger into her. Stretching her open to take him, she knew, though in truth Elain didn’t care so long as he kept rubbing that spot just inside her body and kept licking her clit. 

Elain couldn’t remember the last time a man had gotten her off. Had one ever? Graysen hadn’t, which had necessitated the toys. She could use them while he fucked her, which Gray had preferred. And Elain didn’t mind that—really, she didn’t—but sometimes a little effort would have been nice. 

Maybe it was unfair to compare her ex to Lucien, but Gray had never eaten her out like this. There was a desperation to Lucien, like he needed to do this perfectly—like he’d never see her again and this was his only chance.

If he always ate pussy like this, he could see her whenever he wanted. 

There was nothing elegant about the way she came. Clamped tight around his fingers, riding his face as she split apart, her body arching so hard off the bed she heard her spine crack. Elain scrambled back, gulping down air while Lucien licked himself clean of her before chasing her up the bed.

Their mouths collided, messy and rough in a clash of teeth and tongues. She could feel him between her legs, torturing himself by rubbing the head of his cock through her slick arousal. All she had to do was spread herself a little wider and he’d be inside her. She wanted him in her, wanted to know what it was like to share a body, to have him. 

Elain shoved him, ignoring that the taste of her pussy was now in her own mouth.

“My turn,” she whispered. 

LUCIEN: 

He was dreaming. That was the only thing that made sense to him because otherwise he was living in a reality in which Elain Archeron was naked. Naked and pushing him to the bed, where he was also naked and hanging on a razors edge. A condom was going to do absolutely nothing to save him. The second he was buried in her, he knew it was all over. Lucien had been too close on the couch just kissing her.

Usually, going down on his partner tempered some of his arousal. With Elain, it has only made things worse. Flat on his back while Elain and licked and sucked her way down his chest, Lucien knew he was ruined.

He felt her reach across the bed, searching for one of the condoms he’d hastily grabbed. It was optimistic to take a handful and yet he’d gotten this far, hadn’t he? Why not hope he’d get to fuck her the entirety of the night. That maybe he hadn’t brought enough, even, and would make another trip upstairs. 

Maybe this time he’d bring her with him, just so he could go down on her in his own bed, too. Lucien was certain his sheets could be improved by her pussy smeared across the fabric. For now, Lucien was happy to watch Elain settle between his legs and rip the corner of the gold foil packet.

Lucien gathered up her hair. “You’re so fucking pretty, baby,” he whispered, thinking he ought to say something appreciative. Thank you for fucking me, I might be in love with you now didn’t seem like the right thing. 

Elain looked up at him just as her fingers curled around the base of his cock. Did he think he was somehow owning this experience? That he was exuding confidence? Lucien practically whimpered at her touch, his hips arching off the bed.

She smiled. “Do you taste as good as you look?” she asked in that sweet voice of hers. God, she had been sent to kill him.

What a way to go.

“Find out,” he said in a voice that was decidedly not his. Whoever that man was, he sounded like he had a modicum of control, which Lucien absolutely no longer possessed. Maybe it would be smart to come, he rationalized. Maybe he should have taken a minute upstairs and finished himself and come back with the kind of stamina women boasted about.

Maybe— “Holy shit,” he choked, gripping her hair tight without meaning to. Elain sucked him into her mouth, unnoticed as he agonized over what to do next. The sight was obscene, her pink lips wrapped around the skin of his throbbing erection. She slid nearly half way before she gagged, widening her jaw to take in a breath of air. Lucien nearly came from the sight of her tongue peeking from her lips, of her hand gripping him so tight she must have felt his erratic, pounding heart. 

“Baby,” he tried, unsure what he was even trying to accomplish. Lucien could die happy at the sight of Elain’s bobbing head, of her soft, wet mouth working over him with the kind of enthusiasm he had only once dreamed of. “It’s too much.”

That was true, at least. His whole body was so tight, was buzzing with anticipation. He was buzzing, practically electric. 

“You’re going to make me come,” he whispered, trying one last time to get her off him. It hadn’t been a minute and she was going to laugh and call all her friends and tell them how quickly he’d come in her mouth.

Elain hummed, pulling him back to the present. “Come,” she said. A trail of her own saliva connected those swollen lips to his cock and fuck he almost did. He quite liked her telling him what to do, now that he thought about it. Elain took him back in her mouth, squeezed her fingers tight. One, two—

Lucien came with a rough gasp of air. She’d ripped that orgasm out of him and when he jerked his ups upward, unable to avoid the instinctual desperation to bury himself deeper, Elain let him pour himself into her throat. 

Lucien groaned again when Elain wiped her chin with the back of her hand. 

“I think that makes us even,” she said primly, sitting up on her heels.

He gaped for a second, still leaking come onto his stomach. Was she serious? 

“Get on your hands and knees,” he growled. It was the only thing he could think to say that wasn’t thank you, I love you— which, again, seemed like the wrong thing to tell her. 

“Are you going to spank me?” she teased, though Elain did exactly as he asked. Lucien’s eyes rolled upward at the sight of her heart shaped ass wiggling right in front of him. 

He ignored the condom she’d begun to open, unsure if it was safe to use it. It took three seconds to roll it over his erection and another to bring his palm stinging against her ass cheek.

Elain gasped. She hadn’t expected him to do that. Lucien hadn’t either, but she’d put the idea in his head and Lucien couldn’t resist. 

“Are you going to be my good girl?” he asked her. Say yes, say yes, say yes—

“What if I’m not?” she replied. Lucien didn’t know, though he lined himself him up that pretty, wet pussy of hers and pushed himself in an inch. The soft, warm heat of her body nearly made him come again.

He was so fucked. “My good girl gets to come on my cock. And my bad girl gets her ass spanked until she’s raw.”

Elain didn’t hesitate. “I’m your good girl.”

Fuck fuck fuck fuck— Lucien buried himself inside her with a mighty stroke, using her hip to pull her back roughly. Elain moaned, squeezed so tight around him she might have been his own skin. For the first time in his life, Lucien thanked God for the condom. It was the only thing that kept him from becoming a mindless, rutting animal behind her. 

“Are you going to come for me?” he asked, slowly pulling himself out. Lucien would remember this moment until he died. On his death bed, thinking not of a life well lived, but his hands on Elain Archeron’s ass, spreading her apart while his cock vanished into her perfect pussy. 

“Make me,” she replied, half challenge, half plea. Maybe he should have asked for one of the toys in her bedside table, just to ensure his success. This was fine, he told himself. He’d put her on his back if he had to, and if that failed, he’d just go back down on her.

Actually, that seemed like an incredible idea. He nearly proposed it when Elain moaned, shifting to her forearms and changing the angle. Lucien gasped, suddenly deeper than he’d been before. Fuuuuuuuuuuck. 

“Do you like that?” he asked. It was a genuine question. He thrust again, the head of his cock brushing against something distinctly soft. He knew that spot—he’d had his fingers on it not five minutes before.

“Yes,” she panted. Perfect, he told himself. Keep his strokes steady and deep and he’d have her shaking around him in no time.

Though, just to be sure, Lucien snaked a hand around them for her clit. That made her moan, made her pulse around him which Lucien liked more than he’d ever admit. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” he said, unsure what he was even saying. His mind was repeating out a rhythm—stroke, rub, stroke, rub, stroke, rub— 

“My good girl takes my cock so well,” he continued, babbling out words as he tried to hold back his own desperate need to come. Again. It seemed important to call her his good girl, to plant that seed in her head so when they woke in the morning and he bypassed all the social niceties to ask her to be his girlfriend, it seemed normal.

Natural, even. 

Elain had her face buried in her pillows, her hands pulling at her sheets until she’d pulled the corners off.

“Come for me, baby,” Lucien ordered, praying she would. He wasn’t above begging if he had to. “Come on my cock, let me see—”

She was loud enough to disturb the neighbors, not that Lucien cared. The sound speared straight into his balls, breathless and high pitched and needy.

His name, he realized. She’d screamed his name like that.

“Fuck, Elain—”

He couldn’t get another word out, not when his own orgasm ripped through him. Lucien couldn’t think, his eyes blurred black at the edges. When he did manage to look around, his eyes landed on the clock.

He felt like he’d been fucking her for hours. He’d managed twenty solid minutes. She’d come both times, though, which felt like a win all the same.

Lucien discarded the condom gingerly in the bathroom trash, giving her a moment to process what had happened alone. If she wanted him to leave, he’d go though he might also get on his knees and beg. That was a very real possibility, too. 

When he padded back into the dark room, Elain was under the blankets. The corner was flopped to the side in what he hoped was invitation. She smiled when she saw him, pulling him toward her without a word. Lucien tumbled into the bed, gathering her into his arms. Her hair smelled like honey, her body like sweat and to his relief, Elain was naked beneath the covers. 

“Let's make lemon bars in the morning,” he whispered. Elain twisted to look at him. It was clear she expected him to take off. 

“Okay,” she agreed, her brown eyes wide and shining. “And then what?”

“We have our picnic, don’t we?” Lucien didn’t mention he fully intended to fuck her in the grass. That could be a fun little surprise for later, after he’d convinced her to put on another one of those strappy little sundresses. 

Elain burrowed her head in the crook of his arm. “Good.”

“I’m not done with you, you know,” he said, though in truth he could use some water and a thirty minute nap. 

“I know you’re not, Lucien,” she said, trailing her finger over his stomach. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Neither was he. 

[vikingstoner69]

Fandom: True Blood

Pairing: Eric Northman/reader

A/N: I may do part two if anyone may want one too.

Summary: you were tired of Eric always choosing sookie so you leave him in the day and that night he comes for you

You were done with Eric always going to Sookie. At one point he had calmed you as his but now you weren't so sure now you all he cared about was Sookie. You had lived with him for some time so you waited for the morning. you packed quickly and quietly as you went. Loading up your car you go to your old family house that was left to you.

Three hours later you are pulling into the drive. You knew Eric would be pissed but another part of you wondered if he would care or even notice. You bite your lip and push thoughts of him out of your mind. Once the car is unloaded you put your things away. This was the only place Eric had not been invited into so you knew if he did come he couldn't get in. You bite your lip harder as tears spring to your eyes and you try so hard to blink them away. Your heart hurt and you felt empty.

Changing into a shirt you grab the whiskey and glass and sit at the table. Looking out the window you see the sun has now set and your phone starts to go off walking over to the table. You see Eric's name on the screen and feel your stomach turn into knots. All you wanted to do was go running back to him but you couldn't, no matter how much you wanted to. Some time had passed before your phone finally went quiet. So you curl up on the couch with your drink and a knock at the door makes you jump. You sit up and freeze when you see Eric's outline through the blinds.

"I'm not going away (y/n)! You might as well open the door" he says loudly through the door. You sigh and stand up and slowly make your way to the door and you slowly open it.

"What do you want Eric? I'm busy" you snap trying to hide how affected you are that he is here. When you decided to leave, never actually thought he would come for you but here he was.

"Care to invite me in?" He asks his light and smooth. You cross your arms over your chest and he gives you a smirk.

"No, I'm sure you have better things to do like running after Sookie" you snap and he chuckles and you growl losing more of your temper.

"Is someone jealous?" He smirks and you stand up straight. At one point you had been but now he was not your anymore to be jealous over. Now he could do whatever he wanted without.

"You're not mine to be jealous over Eric! I'm done being your second thought! I'm done waiting for you to make good on your promise and turn me! I'm done being your problem" you yell tears breaking free with each word. You felt like your heart had been ripped from your chest. You had traveled and been by his and Pam's side for 7 years now. An along the way you and Eric finally stopped fighting your feelings and you became his.

"(Y/n) please don't do this! Invite me in!"he yells his hand slamming on the door frame. You felt a sob break free for a moment but you pushed it away.

"Why shouldn't I? You made it pretty fucking clear who you wanted!" You snap your anger coming back through the heartache, you truly loved him.

"I don't want her, she's useful! But I made you mine, not her!" He says his tone changed a bit as this went on.

"Maybe I should try showing you how it feels! Find me some hot guy and let him have me" you snap, the look on Eric's face was deadly and you felt a shiver run down your spine.

"You are mine" he growls through clenched teeth. You roll your eyes and sigh as you cross your arms.

"Not any more Eric, you should go, the sun will be up soon" you say softly, seeing the time on your watch.

"I'm not leaving so either invite me in or watch me burn" he growls, you bite your lip and feel your stomach drop. You didn't really want to find out if he was bluffing.

"Eric please come in" you whisper and Eric walks into the living room. You close the door and look up at him.

"I must go to ground and you are coming with me and then we shall continue this tomorrow night" he says he grabs your arm tightly but not painful. You try to pull your arm free but he won't let go.

"Eric let go! I won't take off, it's pretty clear you will just track me down!" You snap and he chuckles, he slowly lets you go but his hand doesn't leave your arm.

"I want you close to me" he says softly, looking down at you. You bite your lip and nod.

"Fine, follow me" you say, you walk away from Eric and start for the door that leads to the underground seller. Once you both enter the room with the only bed in it. You look back over at Eric and see him standing at the foot of the bed.

"What is this place?" He asks, watching you move around the room. There was a small fridge and drinks in the corner.

"Before I was bron my great grandfather used to run moonshine. Now it's just my little hide away when I was a kid" you tell him looking around the room. Eric comes into the room fully and closes the door behind him.

"How interesting" he chuckles, laying down on the bed. You walk to the other side and climb in bed. Eric watches as you get settled before he rolls over and throws an arm over you.

"Eric! Let me go!" You snap trying to move out of his arms only for him to pull you flush against his chest and you feel his breath on your neck and fight back a shiver.

"Good night" he says softly kissing his healed fang marks in your neck and heat flowed through your body. You bite your lip and wiggle a bit and he groans his hand goes to your hip with a tight hold.

"Trying to get comfortable" you tell him his arm goes back around you and you feel his nose run up your neck and it takes forever not to let out a moan.

"If you're not in this bed when I arise you will be punished" he growls, you bite your and nod your head.

"I won't leave, but don't think that means this changes anything" you say softly and he sighs and lays his head back down. You felt his body go slack and you knew that the sun had risen and you closed your eyes and let sleep take you.

--------

You groan and roll and stretch as you open your eyes. Eric is still holding you tightly and your legs are tangled with your head on his chest, his fingers lightly sliding up and down your arm.

"Good evening" he says softly and you sit up and look down at him.

"What time is it?" You ask your eyes to lock with him and he leans up on his elbow.

"The sun just set 10 minutes ago" he says, reaching to stroke your face. You bite your lip and sigh.

"You should go Eric" you say softly, and he sighs sitting up.

"I choose you, Sookie came to me for help but I turned her away to come for you" he says sternly making you look up at him. Your stomach was in knots and your heart was racing.

"Why? You love her" you snap a bit more harsher than you meant to. Eric growls and pins you to the bed. You gasp and look up at Eric.

"I have loved you for years! I promised to turn you! Do you really have so little faith in my feelings?" He stats hovering over you, you look up at him, his words sinking in and tears spring to your eyes.

"Then make good on your promise! Turn me!" You say looking up at him. His fang popped out with a 'click' and you felt heat rush through your body.

"Alright then" he grins and leans down to your neck and you feel your clit throb and you bite your lip to stop the moan.

"Tonight?" You ask hopeful and he chuckles.

"Tomorrow night" he says, pulling back to look down at you. Eric lets your arms go and you reach up with your hands resting on his chest and they glide up behind his neck.

"Then fuck me one last time as a human" you say, Eric's lips crash on yours and you moan your fingers tangled in his hair. You moan when he grinds into you his lips travel down your neck to your ear.

"Your mine" he says hotly in your ear and you moan. Eric leans up and pulls his shirt off. You sit up and do the same Eric helps you strip naked and he pushes you on the bed.

"Eric, don't make me wait!" You beg your back arches as his lips travel down your body. When he reached your thighs he kissed them both before nipping them.

"Oh no sweetheart I plan to take my sweet time with you" he smirks from between your legs making you bite your lip. The moan slips free when he grazes your groin and your hands tug his hair and he groans.

"Bite me Eric" you moan your breath coming out in quick pants. You look down at him, your eyes as his fang sinks into your thigh making you cry out in pleasure. Eric drinks deeply from you as you both keep eye contact. When he had his fill he lets your thigh and healed your bite marks.

"Now it's time for dessert" he growls, you cry out when you feel his mouth on you. Your head falls back as you moan for Eric. He groaned as he ate you sloppy.

"Fuck Eric I'm so close!" You cry out, your eyes close for a brief moment and he takes that second to remove his mouth making you whine at the loss.

"It's not gonna be that easy princess? You need to be punished" he growled against your skin and you bit your lip. Eric starts a hot blazing trail up your body stopping to kiss and suck at your neck.

"Punish me after you turn me, just fuck me" you beg moving your hands to undo his pants and you grab his hard cock making him groan.

"Beging so soon? My you must want me bad" he chuckles toing off his pants leaving him naked above you. You bring his mouth back to yours and you moan at the taste of yourself both blood and your juices.

"I do! I want you so bad" you cry out as he grinds into you. Your hold on him tightens. He runs his cock through your drenched folds. Eric slowly pushed slowly into you and you both moaned.

"You're so tight and warm" he groans in your neck. You whine when he starts to pull out but your whine turns into a scream of his name as he thrusts into you hard and deep.

"Eric!" You cry out your nails dig down his back. Eric snarls and picks up his pace making your toes curl. Without warning he pulls out and flips you to your hands and knees. He retenters you from behind using your hair as a lead, pulling you back into him. His hand runs from your hair to your throat he pulls you back till you are flush with him he nips your lobe.

"I'm gonna fuck you like this every night" he says huskily and you moan as thoughts of him turning you enter your mind. Eric's fangs enter your neck and you push back taking him deeper. He groans as he drinks from you, you always feel close to him like this. He lets your neck go and you cry out feeling so close to cumming.

"Please Eric!" You beg your head on his shoulder and your hand in his hair. Eric groans, his hand slips between your legs and he slowly rubs your clit.

"Please what princess? If you want something, you gotta ask" he says hotly in your ear making you moan.

"Please let me cum Eric" you beg, you felt like your body would explode if the bubble didn't pop, you were so close.

"Good girl, cum for me" he groans in your ear and you moan as you cum hard on his cock. Eric groans as you clamp down hard on him.

"Oh fuck! Eric!" You cry out your vision blurd. He groans as he pulls out and flips you back over leaning down to kiss you deeply. Eric fucks you hard and deep. He groans and cums in you deeply and you moan.

"I love you" he breathes and leans down kissing you deeply. His hands roam your body making you bite your lip.

"I love you two my viking king" you lean up and kiss him deeply before you flip him over on his back with you straddling him his hands go to your hips.

"Oh, what's this? Does my queen want more?" He grins his hands, runs up your thighs to your breasts and you moan as you start to rock your hips and he groans.

"I want to ride you" you smirk down at him and he chuckles.

"Go on then"