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ladycatofwinterfell · 2 years

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Devotion

Summary: He loves his wife so dearly and still he has loved Robert for as long as he can remember. He despises Robert for knocking on their door so late at night and yet he follows him outside

Did someone say nedbert fic? Did someone also say nedcat fic? Probably not but that’s what I have for you. Enjoy!

Catelyn’s skin was so soft as he kissed it. He could feel the smell of her hair as he nuzzled her nose into the crook of her neck. The sweet, somewhat flowery scent. The scent of his lady.

The way she flushed red as he kissed her, it never grew any less lovely. Starting at her cheeks, travelling down her neck and over her chest. It rose and fell with every breath she took, increasing in speed as her breathing quickened. Quick, shallow breaths escaping slightly parted lips. Perfect lips.

Her eyes gleamed as he opened her robe, let his lips run down her chest. Gently he kissed every inch of her that he could reach, ran his tongue over every mark and line that bearing their children had left on her, listened to the way her breath hitched as he hit a spot she liked particularly much. He lingered there until her hands in his hair forced him lower. She had only so much patience.

He placed a kiss just beneath her navel before standing upright again, looking into her eyes.

“I do love that stomach of yours” he told her.

The lines that had turned almost silver since Rickon’s birth never ceased to strike him as the most beautiful thing. He loved how soft all their children had turned her, how one could tell she had given him heirs.

“So put another child in it” she said, smiling. “It would be even more beautiful then.”

She took his hands, slowly backing towards the bed with him following. Never did she look away from him, never did her smile leave her lips.

As she sat on the edge of the bed he kneeled before her. For a moment he turned his face up, drank in the sight of her. Stronger than any wine he had ever tasted. Her hair falling over her shoulders, gleaming like fire in the light of the heart. Her flushed cheeks, her soft smile.

“My love” she sighed. “You are going awfully slow.”

“Am I?”

He placed a quick kiss on the inside of her knee. Barely had he leaned away again before she had woven her fingers into his hair once more. He expected her to bring his mouth to between her legs where she so clearly wanted him to be, but instead she leaned down to kiss him.

“Make love to me” she whispered as they parted. “Please.”

As he stood up and began to undress she shed her robe and threw it to the foot of the bed. Taking one’s clothes off required no large amount of intelligence, but his hands seemed to grow worthless as he looked upon his wife.

Though soon he was in her arms, settling between her legs. Was there a sweeter feeling than the pleasure of their bodies joining? Was there a prettier sound than Catelyn’s soft moan as he pushed inside her? Was there a more beautiful sight than seeing her tilt her head slightly backwards, her lips parted and her eyelids heavy?

The thought barely had time to disappear from his mind before someone knocked on the door.

“My lord, the king–“ began a soft voice.

Desmond was interrupted by a banging on the door so hard Ned for a moment feared it would fall of its hinges.

He heard how Catelyn drew a sharp breath beneath him, though not from pleasure. When he looked at her he noticed she had turned her eyes towards the door, looking at it like a frightened deer.

“Ned!” shouted a man on the other side.

There was no mistaking Robert’s voice. If only Robert had not been king. If only he had been the man Ned knew in his youth, the friend he had grown up alongside. If only he had been simply Robert.

“I know you’re in there!”

Catelyn had pushed him off her before he had time to move himself.

“What an honour to have the king knocking on my door” she muttered as she reached for her robe again. “I wonder whatever reason he could have for it.”

Ned had to walk naked through the chamber to take his own robe from the wardrobe. After having wrapped it around himself he threw a glance at Catelyn to make sure she was covered. She was once again sitting on the edge of the bed, that time with the robe completely covering her body and a rather disgruntled look on her face. Her hair was still somewhat messy from the pillows.

“Good evening, Your Grace” Ned said as he opened the door. “How come you knock on my wife’s chamber door so late at night?”

“I want to speak with her husband.”

Despite that it was so late at night Robert did not appear to be drunk. There was not even a slight slur as he spoke, he didn’t sway on his feet. During the king’s time in Winterfell he hadn’t been sober once, at least as far as Ned was aware.

It was strange to see him so calm after he had almost beaten the door off its hinges. Maybe he just didn’t know how to properly knock. There was so much force in him.

“Can we not speak on the morrow?” Ned asked.

He would rather go back to his bed and his wife. Most nights he spent with her he made sure they knew he would rather not be disturbed. Not always because there was something to interrupt the way Robert had, but because he enjoyed having a calm night with his lady. At that very moment all he wished was that Robert had respected what poor Desmond told him. It had been almost two weeks since he and Catelyn had last found peace enough to lay with each other.

“I’m the king and I want to speak with you now.”

“I’m sure my lady wife–“ he began, only to be betrayed by the lady wife in question.

Catelyn had left the bed and moved to stand beside him. He could feel her place a hand on his lower back.

“He’s all yours, Your Grace” she said.

Her hand on his back said something else. Though she had little choice. Robert was a king. Ned could protest because the king was his friend, she could not. He wished she had let him talk Robert out of it.

“Might he dress first?” Ned asked.

If he was to leave the chamber he wanted more clothes than a robe.

Robert looked at him for a moment, his eyes turning downwards as if he hadn’t really noticed Ned was wearing nothing but his robe.

“In this seven times damned cold you’d freeze your cock off if you didn’t. And we wouldn’t want that, would we, Catelyn?”

Ned was surprised at the chuckle that came from his wife at that.

“No, it would pain me” she said.

Catelyn had never been ashamed of particularly much, merely proper. Aware of how she presented herself without being dismayed at most everything. His sometimes rather bawdy lords had taken a liking to her quickly after she became their lady. And still Ned was taken aback by her reaction.

“Not more than it would pain me” he told her.

Robert laughed at that. His laugh was as loud and booming as ever, even as he wasn’t drunk.

If he had to choose there were other parts of him he would rather lose to frostbite. A couple of fingers he could do without, he’d like to keep his manhood.

“I’d have to dress in black for mourning” Catelyn said.

Once again Robert laughed. Ned could feel himself smiling, somewhat against his will. Catelyn gave him a look that tattled on just how satisfied she was with herself at the moment before drawing back into the room again. As he looked at Robert again he heard how she opened a drawer of her dressing table.

“Black never was my wife’s colour so to spare her from having to wear it I’ll get dressed” he told Robert. “I shall be with you shortly.”

“I’ll be waiting for you outside the keep.”

He only had time to close the door and turn back to face the room again before Catelyn’s lips were on his. One hand in his hair and the other opening his robe again.

“What are you doing?” Ned managed to get out.

“Twice he’s taken you from me, and soon he’s doing it again” Catelyn said rather firmly. “He can wait a little while, it will not kill him.”

“You want me to go south with him.”

Even before Lysa’s letter she had urged him to go, told him it was necessary. For the future of their house, for all it could give them, he had to go south. And after the letter it was to protect Robert and uncover the truth.

“I wish he had never come here, but I know you have to go. You couldn’t refuse his offer.”

He leaned down to catch her lips in another kiss. They had already spoken about it, he felt no desire to do so again. And it would be unwise to keep Robert waiting for too long. Catelyn seemed to agree with him.

The sense of urgency took the enjoyment out of it, at least for him. And he noticed as he tried to make Catelyn reach her pleasure with a hand that it took much longer than it usually did. The frustration was apparent on her face even after he managed to touch her in a way that made her come undone. As she pushed him to his back and straddled him it was hard to think of anything but that she didn’t look very satisfied.

“Catelyn, we don’t–“ he began.

If she didn’t want it he didn’t want to do it.

“No, I need it.”

He couldn’t remember it having been so bad since they grew close with each other. Since it had been so much more duty than pleasure. His body told him it felt good but his mind seemed to be of a different opinion, he had to focus to be able to come at all. Even as she seemed to use every trick she knew.

They stay joined for a moment after he had finished and Catelyn seemed to soften then. As she leaned down and kissed him before moving away. He was glad for that kiss.

Ned was silent as he dressed, his wife was just as silent. She pulled the furs over herself and turned her back to him, he would have believed her to be asleep if it hadn’t been for that her breathing was wrong. It had started so good, he had liked it so much, slowly taking in every inch of her. Then it had all been ruined. He felt somewhat filthy for a reason he could not say.

“I will not object should you wake me upon your return” she mumbled just as he was about to leave. “If that is your wish, of course.”

Usually those words would have him seeing the beauty of it before him. His mind spinning, dreaming of how he would come back to find her still wet and wanting for him, how he would take her again. He would most likely feel it later. When he came back knowing what she had promised him.

“Hopefully I won’t be long.”

The sky was clear above them, the moon and the stars watching over the castle. The clear nights were the coldest, whatever reason could Robert have for wanting to go outside? He had done nothing but complain about cold and summer snows since he arrived there.

Robert stood and looked up at the starry sky with a member of his king’s guard next to him. Only as Ned came closer to them did he see it was Ser Jaime. One could never escape the damn Lannisters.

“Robert” Ned said.

He had meant to call him by his royal title, but his name was what had escaped. It seemed he would never get used to it.

“Leave us, Ser Jaime” Robert said instead of greeting Ned in return.

“Your Grace, it is my duty to–“

“Ned, when was someone last murdered within your castle walls?”

Then Robert looked down at him, his eyes could have been stars. He had been so handsome once, what had happened? Was it the throne that had made him so or had it been inevitable? Was it grief over what had happened during the war that had made him resort to drinking? Or had he always been to fond of the pleasures of life?

“Hasn’t happened during my time as lord” Ned responded. “Not in my lifetime, I believe.”

Not that he could remember. Though there had been no kings to visit in his lifetime.

“And do you believe your people to be loyal to their king?”

He knew the people of his castle, almost as if they were his own blood. They wouldn’t harm a king, even a southern one.

“I do.”

“Listen to Lord Stark and leave us.”

The hand that rested on the hilt of his sword seemed to grip a little tighter.

“Yes, my king.”

The bitterness in Jaime’s voice shone through, at least to Ned.

Robert began walking away, seemingly without a clear plan as to where. Ned followed him, but glanced over his shoulder at Ser Jaime. He had moved to stand by the doors to the keep together with the household guards, seemingly opting to not go inside. He had to be cold in that armour, it wasn’t meant for the North.

“Cersei has started asking to return south sooner than planned” Robert told him.

“I’m not surprised.”

While she remained civil at least in front of Catelyn she had also made it no secret that she disliked the north. Too cold, too dull, too stern. Without colour and life. Ned would have taken offence if it hadn’t been for that many people of the south shared her opinion.

“She’s a thorn in my side, the golden bitch.”

“And still you need her.”

Robert might have disliked his queen, but she was still his queen. Her children were Robert’s heirs, the eldest would be king after him.

“I need her family’s money.”

That couldn’t be denied.

“Do you love Catelyn?” Robert then asked.

Was there another word for it? She was his Cat, had been so for years. He appreciated her company more than anyone else’s, didn’t see the appeal in other people’s beds anymore. She was the one he desired, the one he felt safe with. It had been that way for years.

“I do” he said.

After all their years together, after everything they had slowly built, how could he not? They had made children, given each other love.

“You didn’t marry her for love.”

“No, I didn’t.”

He had married her for her father’s armies. The rest had come later. Of course he hadn’t been happy about leaving her behind in Riverrun during the rebellion, she was his wife after all, but he hadn’t really missed her. When he left her to beat back the Greyjoys as she was expecting Arya it had hurt. He had missed her, spent the nights thinking about the day when he could be back in her arms again.

“When did you know it was love?”

Maybe during the Greyjoy rebellion. Maybe when she placed Sansa in his arms for the first time. Maybe when she kissed him after he told her he was to build her a sept. Maybe when he returned from the Greyjoy rebellion and they made love to each other from sunset to sunrise.

“You have an awful lot of questions.”

And Ned didn’t have an answer to all of them. When had he known it was love? He couldn’t say. He couldn’t remember the first time he had thought of that he loved her. He couldn’t remember first time he had told her he loved her. He just knew he did.

“It feels unfair you get to love your wife while mine gives me nothing but hell” was Robert’s response to that.

“You are free to love whoever you wish, you’re the king” Ned reminded him. “And your queen has given you children, they cannot possibly be hell.”

“You get to be happy in your marriage, you don’t understand.”

No, he didn’t understand. He was aware of that Cersei Lannister wasn’t as sweet as she looked, he understood Robert wasn’t happy with her. But the misery of their existence together that he had glimpsed during their time in Winterfell, that he didn’t understand.

“Your marriage to her certainly hasn’t stopped you from looking elsewhere.”

Ned almost believed the whores in Wintertown had grown richer than he was during the royal visit. According to Catelyn both Tyrion Lannister and the king were generous in their payments. She had overheard it from two of the women in the kitchen as she went there to search for Bran and Rickon. ‘Soon we’ll be able to raise the taxes without them complaining’ she had muttered.

“Though I will never share a life with someone worth loving. The fucking Targaryens took that from me.”

In the end everything always came back to Lyanna. No matter where they turned, no matter where they walked, it was always her. And even she was just a fantasy for him. She hadn’t wanted to marry him, especially not after he had his first bastard.

“You didn’t know her like I did” Ned said. “You don’t know what they took from you.”

He braced himself for the anger that would flare up in Robert as he said it, though nothing came. The fury of the Baratheons stayed calm.

“We should have been family, you and I. Not spend the rest of our lives apart from one another. You up here, buried beneath winter snows and I stuck in that city forsaken by the gods.”

As they turned around a corner Robert stopped and looked at Ned once more. A visible shiver went through his body and he wrapped his cloak tighter around himself. It must have been the largest cloak Ned had ever seen. Golden with a crowned black stag embroidered on it. A cloak for for a king.

“When you return to that city I’m coming with you.”

Not because he wanted to, but because he had to. He didn’t want to leave Catelyn and two of his sons behind in Winterfell, he would despise every moment of it. King’s Landing wasn’t where he belonged. Though still there was a small joy in knowing it would mean less of a burden for his friend. He had known Robert since they were boys, loved Robert since they were boys.

“That’s the only relief I have” Robert chuckled. “Knowing it will be you and I again. Gods, those were better times.”

“Well, they were certainly easier.”

Everything had been so easy. Spending their days doing whatever they wanted, taking every chance they got to drive Jon halfway to madness. He was sure Catelyn would have been wide eye and stuttering had she got to know half of it.

“Less of a charm to it now that Jon won’t be there to yell at us when we take things too far” he added.

“In his last years it was mostly the other way around, but damn I miss the man.”

And Ned hadn’t even been there when he died. It had been years since the last time he saw Jon Arryn. And now Jon Arryn was dead and all that remained of his youth was Robert.

“As do I.”

Ned looked up at the clear sky above them, at the stars. Did Jon look down on them from one of the seven heavens he had believed in? Did he know? Did he fear for Robert as Ned did?

Suddenly Robert had taken him by the arm and forced him to look down again.

“I’ll never let you leave me again, Ned” he said.

“Was it me who left you? I’m not the one who came out of the war a king.”

“You left me down south.”

“I became Lord of Winterfell, I had no choice.”

“You could have had a seat on my council.”

“And who was to govern the North? My boy of less than a year? My southron bride?”

“I don’t care, damnit, I care about having you by my side.”

“And I will be.”

Many years ago they had walked different paths and Ned had been sure of that he would never be side by side with Robert again. Though there he stood with Robert holding his arm. There was a desperation for in his eyes Ned could not recall having ever seen before. Anger, joy, grief, lust, fear, he had seen it all. But he hadn’t seen desperation.

There were traces of the beauty he had possessed in his youth still left in him. His eyes were the same, clear and blue. His hair and beard black as coal. As Robert held his arm they were so close to each other their breaths became one cloud between them when they looked at each other.

“Like when we were young” Robert said.

“Like when we were young.”

Except for that it was different, so very different. Or maybe it was Ned that remembered it wrong. Neither of them were shaven clean anymore, and Robert’s body against his didn’t immediately feel right. It could have been all the years with Catelyn that made it so. Though they were not so unlike each other, there was a hunger in them.

Robert moved his hands to Ned’s shoulders as they kissed, held onto him as if he would suddenly disappear. Ned didn’t know when he had grabbed the front of Robert’s clothes, burying his fists in the fabric, he just knew he was doing it.

He was the king’s man, was he not? The king’s hand. What was he to do if not serve? If not show Robert his devotion?

Before he knew it Robert’s hands on his shoulders had pushed him down on his knees. Gods, he was strong. Not as strong as he had been when they were young, but still enough for it to be impressive. Strong enough for Ned to be in awe.

It had been so long since Ned kneeled for a man. Since he had wed Catelyn he had stayed loyal to her, even if he in the beginning had been somewhat put off by the idea of her. She was a woman, he had never been very drawn to them. Though he had found that women worked as well as men, at least she did. She was the only woman he had ever been with. The only one he had loved.

Still he didn’t hesitate, moved his hands up to undo the laces of Robert’s breeches. With his gloves on it was somewhat hard, but he managed it. He knew neither of them could take off their gloves in the cold, but he would have liked to feel the roughness of Robert’s hands again.

He was already hard when Ned wrapped his hand around the base of his cock and took the tip into his mouth. The taste of salt as he licked off the fluid that had already spilled from him was somehow surprising. He had forgotten he somehow enjoyed it.

Robert grabbed his hair, forced him to take him deeper. He had to suppress the urge to gag, stopped for a moment to breathe through his nose so that he wouldn’t suffocate. He was rusty.

Though Robert didn’t seem to have anything to complain about. At least as far as Ned could tell from the sounds he made when he began moving his head. Running his lips and tongue up and down his cock.

Robert was rather rough, didn’t seem to consider Ned’s comfort at all, he didn’t care so much. He had always been rough, Ned had never minded. As he came close to reaching his pleasure he began thrusting into Ned’s mouth and once again he almost gagged. For a moment he wondered what it was that made him different from the whores of Wintertown then and there. Could it be anything but love?

“Ned” Robert groaned, tightening the grip on his hair.

Then Ned moved away, sitting back on his heels. He was out of breath as he looked up at the king.

“I’m too old to swallow” he told him.

His knees were aching. Soft snow covered the ground and still it hurt to kneel. His neck had also seen better days. Since last time he had grown old.

Robert finished himself with a hand as Ned found his feet again. As it was all over he felt cold. He had left Catelyn in her bedchamber only to go and do that. And while he couldn’t say he had not enjoyed it he knew it was all wrong.

“Too old to swallow, but the years have not taken your skilled tongue from you” Robert said, sounding just as out of breath.

“I have maintained it.”

He bent down to brush snow from his clothes. It had already began to melt, leaving wet patches on him.

Catelyn was also rather fond of his tongue and he didn’t mind using it. There was a pleasure in pleasing, in tasting and listening to what it made the other feel.

“I don’t know if I envy you or Cat more.”

Ned was fairly certain of that he himself didn’t envy neither Robert nor Cersei in the least. He missed Robert, he did. Though was it right? What he had done, was it the right thing? Most likely not. But then and there it had felt good.

“Why would you envy her?”

“Your hers, are you not?”

Ned had never known Robert to hesitate about taking what he wanted. Why was he saying that when he had already taken Ned? He was leaving his home, his wife, to serve Robert.

He couldn’t look at Robert any longer, turned his back to him. He waited until the king had laced up his breeches before he began walking back towards the keep. The night didn’t seem so pleasant anymore, the stars must have judged him.

Robert followed him, silent for once. All Ned heard was his heavy steps, the snow that creaked under his feet.

Ser Jaime was still standing by the doors to the keep, Ned didn’t look at him as one of the guards opened the door so he could enter.

“The bear, the bear, and the maiden fair” Jaime muttered as Ned passed him.

“Better that than a kingslayer.”

All the way up until when he was about to pass her door he was certain of that he was walking towards his own bedchamber. He could not join her in her bed after having pleasured the king with his mouth. Though she had to be asleep by then. He knew his wife, she had probably been asleep before he had closed the door behind him. He didn’t want to be alone. It was selfish.

Just as he had suspected Catelyn was asleep when he entered her chamber. Curled up underneath the furs, just as she had been when he left her. Lost in her peaceful slumber, unknowing. His wife, his Catelyn. What had he done?

He undressed as quietly as he could, did everything to avoid waking her despite that he knew she always slept heavily. Ever since Rickon no longer needed her attention at night she had been near impossible to accidentally wake.

He didn’t take her into his arms, merely slipped into the bed beside her and turned his back to her. It would have felt wrong to do so as if nothing had happened. Though of course he had barely settled before she had turned to him in her sleep and laid an arm over him, her hand resting on his chest. He couldn’t bring himself to push her away even as the betrayal hung over him like a sword above a doomed man’s neck. Instead he took her hand, weaved their fingers together, held them over his heart. The familiarity of it was almost overwhelming. How was he to survive leaving her behind in Winterfell?

“Too tired?” she sighed.

It took a moment for him to realise she was awake, that she was not merely mumbling in her sleep.

“Exhausted” he responded gently.

She moved even closer to him, pressed herself against him. Even as she had been beneath the furs she was cold.

“Me too.”

He felt how she placed a gentle kiss on his neck before letting her head rest against the pillows again. A moment later she had drifted off to sleep once more.

She had told Robert Ned was all his, that was most likely not what she had meant.

#catelyn stark #ned stark #ned x cat #robert baratheon #nedbert #ned x robert #my fic #i really like how this turned out so i hope you will like it as well #not the most positive ive written perhaps but still worth the read (in my not so humble opinion)#ned’s relationships with those closest to him fascinates me

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attapullman · 9 months

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If Only the Neighbors Knew | Neighbor!Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: A month of stolen kisses culminates in Robert hosting the HOA meeting and getting you on his couch. The ladies of the neighborhood may make him blush, but only you can make your sweet neighbor weak in the knees.

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings + Notes: Robert "Bob" Floyd x f!reader, 18+ only folks, swearing, unprotected pinv, oral (f!receiving), self-indulgent as per usual, too many italics. Oh, I am blushing and humbled at all the love that Neighbor!Bob has received! It's exactly a month later and now he's back and making us collectively drop our panties again, as well as all the other women in the neighborhood! But don't worry, he's only got eyes for you ;) Happy Holidays, my dears, thanks for reading!

meet Robert From Next Door here

He’s setting up refreshments in the dining room. The perfect viewpoint to where you perch on his slate gray sectional, making small talk with the neighborhood. Knees primly crossed under your skirt, smile wide as you laugh about the neighbor kids’ shenanigans. And all he can think about was when you walked in, the soft flush in your cheeks when you said, “Hi, Robert,” and gave him the lightest peck on the cheek, as if you did it all the time. As if it didn’t make him weak in the knees.

The only perk of hosting the HOA meeting is that you’re in his home. The fact other people are also here? Not ideal. It’s been a month since he had you straddled on his lap, sweetly moaning into his mouth, and frankly he wants to send everyone home so he can try the same thing on his couch.

But he offered to host because it’s the neighborly thing to do. Swung by the market on the way home from base and grabbed crackers and cheese, mixed nuts, and too many bottles of wine because once someone brings up the length of grass everyone turns to drinking.

He’s replenishing the plastic cups and water jug when he catches your eye. The small quirk of your smile, a silently flirty hi, has him flustered. Time to start this godforsaken meeting so he’s closer to getting you alone.

“So, Lieutenant Floyd, what’s new with you?” Mrs. Jacobs has already helped herself to enough wine by the time he joins the neighborhood in his sitting room. She’s flanked by her cronies - minions in matching sweater sets - and all instantly turn their attention on him. While not someone who normally turns heads, the day Robert Floyd bought his little bungalow with the creaky porch he was instantly the talk of the street. A young single Naval officer? The women could barely believe their luck. They were all married, but shameless flirting had never been out of question.

He takes a slow sip of his iced tea, biding time. On the other side of the room, he can feel your amused smile. The rumor mill would churn violently if anyone found out what was going on with you two. So you had been sneaking around the last few weeks. A few stolen afternoons kissing on the couch, errand trips turned into steaming up his truck’s windows. It’s been the best month of his life.

The WSO is spared answering when the president of the homeowner’s association clears her throat to start the meeting, shushing her grumbling husband. The collection of husbands sat at the back with their beers, arms crossed, giggling like schoolgirls at their comrade’s chiding. Normally Robert sat with them, but felt bold and came to sit near you on the sectional, one large decorative pillow acting as a barrier.

As expected, the meeting is trivially boring. While he tries to focus on repair costs and chimney safety, all he can think about is your hand only inches away. If he only shifted a few inches - only a few, it would be subtle - he could run the tips of his fingers along the back of your soft hands, intertwining your fingers and rubbing his thumb soothingly along your wrist. And if he was that close, he might as well dip his face into the crook of your neck, where the scent of your perfume was strongest and most delicious. While he was there, it would be so easy to press a k-

“Anyone have any questions about this?” He’s abruptly distracted from his daydream by several neighbors raising their hand, disgruntled by potential disruptions to their homes.

You catch his eye, eyebrows raised, curious on his thoughts about filter replacement. Or if he's as bored as you are. But he simply gives you a dazed, shy smile, his eyes lingering just a second too long on your lips.

The meeting adjourns - thank god - and neighbors create their cliques to download. It feels safe to start your own conversation (the first the two of you have spoken since you pressed a kiss to his cheek) and you turn to him eagerly. Just as you’re about to compliment his selection of cheese, a manicured hand reaches past you and touches Robert’s bicep.

Mrs. Jacobs and company have returned. “Lieutenant, before I head out I wanted to thank you again for taking care of my lawn last week. Such a big help.”

The tips of his ears blush pink, the tone of his neighbor’s voice a tad too suggestive for a simple chore. Mr. Jacobs was nearing his sixties and spent most of these meetings complaining about an old sports injury. It seemed the least the young WSO could do was offer landscaping help after all that rain last week. His mower was already out and he’d mown the Jacobs’ lawn without a second thought.

It had helped you had been outside planting bulbs. He liked the eye candy in your slightly too tight jeans.

The women continue to praise him and his generous ways. His cheeks on fire as Mrs. Connelly gushed about how great it was to have a big, strong Navy man in the neighborhood. As much as he wants to look at you, the embarrassment flooding his system has his eyes glued to the hardwood.

“You know,” Mrs. Branaugh began, exchanging an excited glance with her friends, “the city hall fundraiser next month is a little short on volunteers for our auction. Any chance any other lieutenants would be available?” Her eyes shamelessly rake down his chest, practically salivating at the idea of fighter pilots parading around in suits.

You feel the licks of jealousy itch at your palms.

He sputters out words, unsure if they’re agreement or excuses. Robert’s suffocating on his embarrassment. Mrs. Connelly and Mrs. Jacobs delight in his blush. The latter gushes, “I’d be happy to pay any of them to mow my lawn this summer.” She turns to her friends and winks. “Shirtless, of course!”

You nearly spit out your drink. The host of the evening looks moments from passing out. Your middle aged neighbors are cackling, lost in their tipsy fantasies. It’s time for everyone to go home.

Thankfully most of the men are ready to leave the gossip fest and return to their abodes. Gathering up their wives and thanking Lt. Floyd for his hospitality, the neighborhood departs the tidy bungalow, calls of, “Come over for dinner sometime!” thrown over their shoulders.

Amongst those leaving is you, slipping on your winter jacket and adjusting a thick scarf for the short walk. Barely recovered from his neighbors’ lascivious comments, he’s sad to see you go. Wishes you would straggle behind and pretend to help clean up, only to ignore the dishes and catch up in the biblical way. He can practically feel your soft skin in his hands. But you give him that sweet smile of yours and follow Mr. Sampson out the door, the promise of another time.

He’s never hosting these meetings again.

After much coaxing from her husband, the last of his neighbors finally leave and he’s alone in his bungalow again. Finally. The cheerful oxford blue walls, the hand-me-down dining chairs, the framed photo of his squadron above the mantle. Being permanently stationed has its perks.

He makes quick work of cleaning, bringing the remnants of his makeshift cheeseboard to the kitchen before wiping down the dining table and straightening the couch cushions. The multitude of empty wine bottles are taken out to the recycling before turning off the porch light, ready to retire for the night. He’s getting a glass of water when a sound pricks his ear.

The faintest knock. So quiet he would miss it had he been anywhere else in the house. Instantly on the defense, tall, broad frame coming to its full height, he’s prepared for the worst as he approaches the back door that leads to his small yard.

Another timid knock.

The biggest, warmest smile takes over his face as he opens the door and sees his visitor. There you stand, cheeks pink with cold and your lip trapped between your teeth. You sneak.

Robert quickly invites you inside, enveloping you with his warm body once you’ve toed off your boots. The hug has tension escaping every muscle, finally back in each other’s arms as it should be. The secrecy, while necessary, is the worst.

“Did you forget something?” His deep voice mumbles into your hair. You push back to look at his face, but his hands are steadfast on your hips, holding you exactly where he wants you. In the month of shared kisses and lighthearted flirting, he’s never had you alone in his house.

Resigned to resting your cheek against his shoulder, you reply, “Didn’t want anyone suspicious if I stayed behind.”

“Ah, so you did the ol’ double back?" You nod. "And you’re sure no one saw you?” His mischievous smile shows he’s all jokes, but in the back of his mind he’s curious if any of his neighbors saw you in the minute gap between your backyards. The same trek he’s been making for weeks after all the lights on the street are out.

You shake your head against his soft crewneck. It’s been three days since you’ve felt his warmth and you’re melting. The faint smell of sage and citrus - and a tinge of jet fuel - flooding your senses and you’re so glad you risked sneaking over.

Watching him host the HOA meeting with his little refreshment table? So hot.

While you both want to sit down over a cup of cocoa and catch up on how silly your neighbors are, something else is on your minds. It’s been lying dormant for weeks now, awaiting the moment to rear its head. And in the dim lighting of Robert’s house, on a quiet winter Friday night, the moment is just right.

The first kiss is intended to be innocent, lightly brushing his lips against yours to remind you of his affection. Enjoying the plush softness of your glossy lips. But when the softest of moans leaves you, desperation hits.

He needs you.

The two of you have been playing it safe - you are neighbors after all - but as mere mortals there are needs to be met. The softness of your skin. The broadness of his shoulders. The tension that has been building and building since he watched you dunk that tea bag and knew it was now or never.

You tear away from his face, as painful as it is, to rasp against his jaw. “Robert, your house is so nice. Can you show me your bedroom?”

Squeals of delight bounce off the hallway walls as he all but drags you to the other side of the house. His fingertips dig into your hips, a little too eager, his glasses slipping down his nose as he steals kisses. As he showers you in affection, you appreciate his home out of the corner of your eye. The small collection of black-and-white snapshots from different naval bases he’s worked on. A pencil holder that looks handmade. Your heart lurches for this man whose heart is too big for this bungalow.

Feet slow at a doorway, his hands steadying you against the frame. As you look up into his sky blue eyes, nerves shoot down both your spines. The delicious thought pops into your head that you’re finally going to see him naked and you feel lightheaded.

He can’t let himself think about your body or he will pass out.

His bedroom fits him. Lamps cast a cheery glow onto the mahogany dresser where he keeps a majority of the US Navy paraphernalia he’s been collecting since he was a child - little figurines and framed airshow stills. A large wingback chair sits cozily in the corner, laden with a flannel he had debated wearing; you’re glad he stuck with the buttery soft crewneck you can’t help running your palms over. And the main event, against the far wall, looking as inviting and luxurious as anything, is Robert’s king size bed. He prides himself on the curved wood headboard he spent a summer working on.

Tentatively, he takes your hand and invites you over the threshold. Your eyes rake over everything to find any red flags (none found - it’s okay he has a lot of plane figurines and not a lot of houseplants - he’s gone half the year, those plants are gonna die) before you let your fingers brush over the blue gray of his heavy plush comforter. Similar to his living room walls.

“You must like blue.”

Cerulean eyes sparkle. His fingers tangle in the cobalt cashmere of your sweater. “I really like blue.”

This time, your lips brush his. The softest sweep before letting yourself lean into him, greedily running your tongue across his thin lips, begging for entrance. His cheeks the softest mauve as he opens his mouth to groan his pleasure. Despite your new surroundings, it feels like home when your tiny pink tongue finds itself nestled against his.

A bolt of heat travels down your spine and your hands fist in his crewneck, torn between enjoying the soft fabric and wanting it off. While your hands are desperate and needy, running up and down his torso in indecision, he’s so soft and gentle with you. Fingers tracing the delicate slope of your jaw, a warm hand on your hip teasing the skin above your skirt. Sweet noises blown directly into your mouth as he savors your taste.

The past month has built this up. That year of tension? Absolutely nothing compared to the burning heat across your skin every time you see him now. You know how he tastes, how he smells, how he whines when you lick the spot behind his ear. The itch consuming your body needs to be scratched, needs to be tamed. You need him.

He seems to be on the same wavelength as you feel his hands lead your hips toward the bed, legs awkwardly backing up until they hit crisp bedding. The man keeps a tidy bed. You’re hopelessly more attracted to him.

Tenderly Robert lowers the two of you to the bed, your back relaxing against the blanket as your hair frames your face. The tips of his fingers trace your cheek as he appreciates how beautiful you are. Embarrassed by the attention, you pout until he brings his lips to yours again, loving the way his entire body encloses around you, keeping you safe.

Your legs have a mind of their own as they wrap around his hips, arms sliding down his torso. His cheeks heating as he catches onto you, his own hips rolling into yours. The low noises escaping your throat as he grinds against your bare thigh, turning him on even more. Your chest pressed against his, the swell of your breasts as your back arches - it’s heaven. If it weren’t for your grounding presence stroking a hand through his hair he would think Phoenix crashed the jet that afternoon.

Finally too impatient to wait any longer, you tug on the hem of Robert’s crewneck, silently begging for it to go. He sits up - awkward to do when his pelvis is glued against yours - and pinches the neck of it, shrugging it off his solid frame. Knocks his glasses askew a bit. When he turns back to you, white hot desire slaps you in the face. This six foot pilot, shirtless, with smoldering blue eyes behind fogged glasses and mussed hair? There are no words.

Who would have thought peppermint tea would lead to all this?

You lose yourself in his kisses again, running your hands along the smooth expanse of skin now available. Your hips desperately rutting against his for more friction, a pool of arousal settles in your underwear with how fucking good he looks covered in your affection. Your lips find his neck and suck, the sounds emitting from him indecent. His hands settle at the hem of your skirt, brushing the skin of your thighs as he worries the fabric, contemplating his next move.

“Please.” It’s quiet, but your plea nearly echos in the room. His eyes meet yours. “Please touch me.”

There’s no going back anymore. Reluctantly pulling away from your body, he lowers himself to his shins, large hands smoothing over your thighs. As he rubs soft circles into your muscles, the hem of your skirt shifts higher. His heart thuds at the sight of your gorgeous, soft thighs, completely on display for him. Tentatively he presses a kiss to your inner knee. When you don’t shy away, he pecks another slightly higher. His nose skims the thin skin and you whimper. It’s music to his ears.

Your skirt is nearly around your waist, delicate panties in view. Robert’s heart violently slams in his chest and his erection throbs, begging to be freed from his jeans. He can’t help but focus on the spot that conceals your center, your arousal wet and dark.

His lips kiss your inner thigh again, just inches from where you desperately want to feel them. “May I?”

You’re frantically nodding, your fingers crashing into his as you work in tandem to get the offending little piece of lace off. As they come down, his kisses trail up, teasing the skin to elicit tiny whimpers. Hot breath skims your pelvis and it’s torture. He delicately places your knees on his broad shoulders, warm skin on warm skin.

Propping yourself up on one elbow, desperate to see his face, his pretty blue eyes smile at you as he finally, finally licks one broad stripe up your folds.

Your brain effectively short circuits.

Like a broken dam, once he’s had a taste there is no going back. Hot, thick swipes over your wetness, desperate to soak up your sweet arousal. Unintentionally his nose crashes into your clit, his messy tongue work bringing him deeper and deeper within you. Above him, you’re singing his praises, mouth open wantonly. “Right there! Right there!”

The hours he’s spent wondering what you taste like, if you’re even sweeter than your kisses, have paid off. He’s addicted. Wrapping his arms around your gorgeous thighs, obscene sounds squelching from his lewd tongue, he brings a thumb to your clit to draw deliciously tight circles. The way your back arches has him panting.

It’s hard to tell whether it’s the tingle in your toes or the fiery knot in your stomach that grows faster. The way his tongue flicks over that ring of muscle has your head spinning. His lips capture a fold and suck, moaning at how sweet you are for him.

“Taste so good, baby. Knew you would, my sweet girl.”

Your head falls back when a finger prods at your opening, slipping through your silky wetness. If his tongue was good, his fingers are a gift. A thick digit that reaches deep, finding that spongey spot that makes your stomach curl. It works its way back and forth, bringing moans to your lips and entrancing him as he watches you take him so easily. He can barely help himself when he slips in a second, salivating over how effortlessly you stretch for him.

“That’s my girl, so good.”

Two fingers deep and a hot mouth on your clit, the world is careening around you. All sense of direction lost, too hot in your sweater, hips desperately following his lips and fingers. Your hand shoves in his hair, holding him there because it feels so good. He thrusts deeper, stretching his fingers within your tight walls. The pressure against your cervix and clit make your head pound. And then suddenly…

“R-Rob-by!” You wail into the bedroom, voice lost amongst the hot air and salacious sounds coming from between your legs. Thighs tightening around his cheeks, knees buckling as you bring your legs to your torso, curling into yourself as your orgasm blindsides you. Your brain dizzy with pleasure and relief as he keeps working his tongue within you, one hand stroking your stomach soothingly as the other disappears over the edge of the bed.

Time disappears as you lazily ride his tongue until the oversensitivity kicks in. As your hips squirm away, he presses one last kiss to your clit before dragging himself up to stand. Despite only having two brain cells left after your orgasm, you’re instantly wet again watching how he grinds his palm against the thick bulge in his jeans.

“That feel good?” Your eyes droop happily as you nod, a little sheepish. “You are so gorgeous, so good for me. I’m a lucky man.”

As you sit up on boneless limbs, he swoops down to press a kiss on your sweet lips. The tangy linger of your taste coats his mouth. By itself it’s sexy, but then you see the wet smudges and fog of his glasses, askew on his nose from where he pressed so hard into your cunt, and a deep groan escapes as you attach yourself to him again.

Reaching down, your fingers are desperately working the button of his jeans - the need to feel every part of him against you so dire - but he’s stilling your hands, kissing along your neck. A little flushed at how close he is to cumming at the thought of your hands on him.

His lips brush your ear. “Want to enjoy your mouth any other time, but I really need to be inside you. Please.”

You’re both openly moaning out your insatiable hunger as you fall back and scoot toward the pillows, sitting up on your knees to unzip your skirt and discard it and your sweater. His hand dips beneath his jeans as he soaks up your skin, the way your bra just barely covers your nipples. He makes no show of pushing down his jeans, pulling them from around his ankles along with his socks. His mind is carnally focused on getting you completely naked as he tugs the front of his boxer briefs down to relieve the pressure on his cock.

The two fingers suddenly make sense. Robert is a big guy - not quite as big as the rest of his squadron, but naturally takes up space with his broad shoulders and large hands - and you feel silly for not connecting the dots. His cock is thick, veiny and red tipped, balls bulging with cum. You gulp down a thick breath knowing he’s about to cram every inch of it into you. This is what you’ve been waiting for.

Since the moment Robert stood on your stoop and introduced himself, the magnet between you has fought harder and harder to bring you together. Pulling by invisible strings, bidding their time, until they finally snapped and you gave into your desires, hands rushing all over while taking time to learn the curve of each other’s bodies. Finding the freckles on his shoulders. Exploring the dip of your back. And as you lay beneath your next door neighbor, breaths heavy and nervous and excited, you allow the magnets to snap together fully as he slowly thrusts his hips until they mesh into yours.

He’s deliciously thick, stretching every part of you as he pants heavily into your neck. Kisses sooth your skin while your nails mark his. In the low light of the room, he gazes at you, so enamored with the way you look taking him. The obscene wet sounds of his hips meeting yours, slow and steady so he can savor the way you squeeze him. Your whimpered noises spurring him on.

You bring a hand to his cheek, using every ounce of will to focus on his sweet face. “This is…this is even better than I imagined.”

He couldn’t agree more. Paired with the dreamily debauched smile on your face, his hips piston faster, arms squeezing tighter as you moan wildly. Bodies vibrating with pleasure, your legs wrap around his thighs for the leverage to meet his thrusts. He grunts as hands tangle in his hair, pulling lightly. The eye contact is intense, unable to look away as you both feel the build up. God, his eyes are the perfect shade of blue.

Your fingers slip to your clit, ready to propel you to the finish, when his thumb knocks you away. His circles are tight and rough as he gazes at you with desire-dark eyes. “It’s okay, let me help you.”

Your kind and overly helpful neighbor. Who lends you his lawn mower and hangs up Christmas lights. Who always compliments your coffee. Who times his thrust with a harsh push to your clit and has you immediately careening off the cliff, seeing bursts of light as your second orgasm of the night envelopes you.

His mouth attaches to yours, tongue lapping up your taste, as you moan through your aftershocks. His cock is still deep, stroking that spongey wall as he works you through and chases his own pleasure. You’re still so tight around him and he’s ready to cum. Making sure his lips don’t leave yours, he draws back and thrusts deeply, watching the way your body surges with his strength. Once, twice, and your eyes roll back as he lets go, filling you with his spend so you have everything he can give.

A streetlamp flicks on through the window. You’re only just catching your breath when Robert slips from the bed. A tap turns, there’s some rustling, and he returns with a soft cloth to help you clean up. Too tired to speak, the two of you just exchange sweet smiles as he once again comes to your aid.

The bed dips and he’s back against your body, cocooned in his dreamy coverlet, clean-shaven face pressing kisses against yours. His cheeks the lightest pink as he lowly whispers, “Hi.”

You can’t help the wide grin that overtakes your features. “Hi.”

No other words are needed to express the satiated happiness bursting through your hearts and every pore. His arms wrap around your bare shoulders tighter. A full year of pining for you, of making any excuse to help out to be in your presence…so worth it for the way his whole body feels whole when you’re around.

Sleepy eyes flutter up at him, trying so hard to stay awake and enjoy this time together. He presses a kiss to your temple, letting his lips linger on the light layer of sweat his deep thrusts caused. If only his squadron could see him now, his sweet little neighbor half-asleep after a night with him.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he mutters into your hairline as he pulls the blanket around your shoulders. You barely hear him as you begin to dream about a sandy-haired man who brought you the sun, the moon, and the stars.

When the first streams of morning light begin pouring in - because someone was a little too busy doing the deed to close the curtain - two sets of eyes pop open. You’re facing each other, foreheads rested upon the same pillow, eyes half-slits as you adjust to the light. Robert radiates heat, and you curl even closer into him. His lips turn in a satisfied smile as you burrow into his chest.

As the sun rises higher in the sky, the two of you continue chatting in low voices. Legs tangled under the sheets, Robert’s head propped up as he listens to your story about accidentally setting your old kitchen on fire trying to make pancakes. His deep laugh crinkles his eyes, pausing to press the lightest kiss to the corner of your pouting mouth.

You’re just starting to lean into the kisses - hard not to when he looks so kissable - when a grumbly gurgle sounds out from below the covers. Both of your eyes shoot toward your abdomen, a hungry monster in the midst.

“You hungry?” His eyes are so impossibly sweet. You nod slightly, embarrassed at your crass stomach. But he’s already giving you a kind smile and helping you out of the bed, finding a pair of sweatpants and a weathered soft hoodie to keep you warm.

In plaid pajama pants, your neighbor guides you to his kitchen, with the cheery maple cabinets and old-fashioned diner clock, and settles you onto the bench seat in the breakfast nook. “Coffee? Tea…peppermint tea?”

It should actually be illegal how good he looks when he winks at you with that little smirk shirtless.

“Coffee is fine,” you reply, your cheeks hot. He busies himself with coffee and contemplates what he has to constitute for breakfast, and you busy yourself with the day before’s paper. He’s started the sudoku, but abandoned it when his sister called.

Vaguely familiar with the puzzle game, you look at the little scribbled numbers in the boxes to see where he’s left off. Either the mind-blowing sex or lack of caffeine has gotten to you, because you haven’t a clue where to start from.

A steaming mug is placed before you before an arm wraps around your shoulders, looking over your progress. “Yeah, I was stumped too.”

He walks you through his thought process, thick, long fingers tracing over the paper as he points out what should fill out each box. Your eyes stray to him over and over, enjoying how passionate he is about his daily activity. Watching him blush and tilt your head back to the puzzle every time he notices you staring.

You’ve finally gotten a few boxes sorted out when you remember your coffee. Placing a thankful kiss to his cheek, you take a small sip.

“I don’t know how to say this nicely, but this is the worst cup of coffee I’ve ever had in my life.”

Your expression is neutral, trying to keep the disgusted look off your face (unsuccessfully) and he bursts out laughing. Pushing the mug as far as possible from you, missing the delicious imported coffee in your own kitchen, you gladly accept the kiss he presses to your cheek as an apology for the worst thing you have ever consumed.

“How about you are in charge of drinks from now on and I’ll be in charge of food?”

You eye him wearily. “If that’s how you make coffee, I’m scared to see what your cooking skills are like.”

He promises you that his mom requests his lasagna recipe every time he’s back home, and that he’s fairly capable of putting pre-made things in the oven. Good enough for you. Leaning in and molding your mouth to his, the two of you share enough kisses that his bad coffee grows cold.

Turning your attention back to the sudoku puzzle, eager to finish, Robert tightens his grip on your waist. Appreciates the way you look in his clothes after spending the night in his bed. The excited look in your eyes as you solve another box. God, you look so good in his life.

He muses privately that you should just sell your house. He has no plans to ever let you go.

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