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#except you realise hes been snoozing with his legs over yours for like half an hour

llamagoddessofficial · 5 months

Note

Hey got more aggre guy questions with you hehehe :D

How would you know if any of them had a crush on you?

Hehe... a classic cute question.

Sans: The absolute most difficult to tell. He just acts like a close pal. Honestly, if you're not Papyrus, it's near impossible to know how Sans is genuinely feeling. This guy is a master at disguise. The signs are ridiculously covert- how many words he uses in his texts, which eye he most frequently winks at you with, the kinds of jokes he uses, which side of you he sits on. He gets slightly jealous of people you like, and expresses that with veeeery subtle coldness toward them. To Papyrus Sans is outrageously flirting, and to you he just said 'heh, i'm gonna steal that joke'.

The most reliable sign that he likes you, is he would rather be with you than without you. He messages you when he's bored, when he's got a day off he asks if you want to come over and hang out together. He's casually affectionate with you; with everyone else he's very physically guarded, not really allowing any prolonged contact, but he'll sit close enough for your knees to touch and lean on your shoulder. When he's sleepy, he'll just put his head in your lap.

If at any point you're actually starting to suspect that Sans has a crush on you (ie you catch him lightly blushing or looking at your hand like he wants to hold it) that means he's already fully in love with you. If it's obvious enough for you to tell, he's planning to spend the rest of his life with you.

Red: Red is also pretty difficult to tell. Not as hard as Sans, though. He's highly flirtatious in general, but even more so with people he's physically interested in. Sometimes, it can be hard to know if he's just a super flirty guy in general, or if he genuinely really likes you.

When he's in love he switches between totally forgetting to flirt (he's thinking about more than just sleeping together) and acting more like himself, then panicking that you won't like his real self and becoming EXTRA flirtatious and swaggery. He instinctively wants you to see the real him, and like him... but he's also terrified of you not liking the real him, so he clams up and tries to play the part of the big sexy badboy that everyone else seems to like so much more. The longer he likes you the more he eases. If at any point you find out he needs glasses, or that he quit smoking out of fear that it'd impact your lungs, that's a sure sign he's fallen for you.

Another reliable tell is jealousy. Red doesn't get jealous a lot, because usually he doesn't really care all that deeply about his flings. If he shows jealousy about who you're with, it's a big flag that his feelings run a lot deeper than he wants to admit.

Skull: Skull isn't difficult at all. It will be loud & clear that he likes you. Nonstop staring, intense blushing at the slightest interaction, he drops/breaks things a lot because he's distracted just looking at you. His brain -> mouth filter vanishes, he'll be completely silent except to blurt out things like "you're so pretty" and "i like your smell". Before he drums up the courage to start talking to you properly he might even come across as a bit creepy and overwhelming, given his size and strength, the intensity of his feelings, and his love language being staring.

Papyrus usually comes very in handy. He makes Skull seem less intimidating by providing the cute real reasons for Skull's bizarre behaviour around you. He can be a great translation service for his brother- when Skull mumbles something totally unintelligible to you because you make his brain stop working, Papyrus can step in. He's also great at getting that perfect balance between encouraging his brother, and stopping him from crossing any lines; he'll help Skull approach you at a house party without teleporting somewhere completely random out of nervousness, but he'll also dispense helpful advice such as "PERHAPS YOU SHOULD INTRODUCE YOURSELF BEFORE YOU TELL HER YOU WANT TO HAVE KIDS WITH HER."

#llamagines #when sans has feelings for you he always finds some way to nap around you #you sit down for 20 seconds and he teleports onto the couch beside you #its like when you realise your cat has somehow made its way onto your lap without you noticing #except you realise hes been snoozing with his legs over yours for like half an hour

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writingsbychlo · 3 years

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let it snow | joel dawson

word count; 20,746

summary; the night is made for doing things you probably shouldn’t do, and the mornings are for running away from them. except, for when you’re snowed in, and trapped with your problems for who knows how long.

notes; this is based vaguely on the movie ‘two night stand’, but very loosely, it does not follow much of the idea at all, just the basic outline. you absolutely do not have to have seen the movie to read this.

warnings; smut, reference to unprotected sex, very light (accidental) slut shaming, that’s about it.

It took you a moment to realise that you weren’t in your own bed when you woke up, startling a little as you came to the realisation. Your walls were not painted blue, and you definitely didn’t have a desk that messy pressed up underneath the window. In fact, your bedroom didn’t have a view like that at all, your bedroom window looked straight out into New York city, and the alleyways behind some dodgy fast-food restaurants.

This was a nice view, calmer roads and little houses, fields sprinkled with snow became visible the more you sat up, and you hadn't remembered it snowing this heavily last night. Sure, you’d been rather preoccupied, and okay, maybe it had been snowing a little bit, but this looked excessive. Although, it would explain the deep chill in the air right now.

You were still a little foggy, jumping slightly as hot breath washed over you from behind the bedding pulling as another body shuffled, and you were stiff all over. Then, it hit you. Reckless, a few drinks in with your happily loved up roommate and her boyfriend, who made you feel more and more painfully single every time you saw them, before you’d retreated to your bedroom, tipsy and secretly bitter, and checked some dating websites. A cute guy, some witty jokes, a funny conversation, and then him.

Everywhere, all at once, a quick train ride and some frantic kisses, your clothes being stripped from your body as that same mouth moved lower and lower, sweaty and hot and barely stopping to ask questions before you were waking up now, a little bit panicked and filled with ridiculous regret. Rubbing a hand over your eyes, you forced yourself to roll over, as calmly as you possibly could, to try and take in the sleeping man beside you.

Messy brown hair, the same shade as dark chocolate, your tongue tingling at the thought of the sweet treat as you liked your lips, resisting the urge to reach out and see if the stands were as soft as they looked. His face was half-hidden within the pillow, slumped down into it, but pale skin reflected little brown moles, his hair beginning to speckle with a light tracing of stubble, the tingle of which was now beginning to make itself known again between your thighs. Long eyelashes on closed lids hid his eyes from you, but you had a distinct memory of them, burned into your mind.

Warm pools of amber and gold, swirling browns that glittered in the low light that had taken over, like flickering candles and pools of caramel, a shade of whiskey that you wanted to be drunk on, beautiful and bright from all the times he’d looked at you. He was handsome, you couldn’t deny that, an odd surge of pride rushing through you as you congratulated yourself on at least being able to pick out somebody physically perfect to have a one-night stand with in your self-pitying loath.

The blankets were sitting around his middle, one hand stretched out a little towards your side of the bed, long and veiny fingers, and you remembered a little just why he’d driven you so wild now, those same veins making tracks up his forearms, disappearing just before his biceps. He was toned, but not overly so, the muscles along his chest standing out, a smattering of dark hair between them, and you could finally remember tracing the slight definition of abs with your tongue, before you’d been tracing something else, and your face flushed with heat as you remembered just how much of the man before you you’d seen.

It felt scandalous now, to be sharing abed with a stranger whom you could barely remember, and to know exactly what he looked like naked, or how he sounded while moaning as he came, but to not even know his last name, or to fully remember the address that you were even at. It was dirty, it was filthy, it was wrong. Oh, but it had been so fun, an experience that everybody should have at least once in their life, a naughty little secret, the one night stand you picked up at a bar, or through a friend, someone you’d look back on fondly once you were ten years older, married and settling down, and as you thought about it more, your lips were still flicking up in a smile.

You’d laugh about it one day.

Slipping from the covers, you tried to find your clothes, not wanting to linger any longer, not wanting the awkwardness of having to deal with stunted small-talk and forced politeness as you tried to adjust to the morning alongside him, someone who was still a little fuzzy in your mind, and your clothes were scattered around the room within easy access, a fortunate happening that made you thank whichever god or deity might be watching you right now.

Sipping your jeans back on, you wiggled a little, trying not to make the flooring creak underneath you, and only pausing long rough to put on your socks, shoes held in hand as you adjust your jumper on your body, a hand running through messy hair to tame it. The man shuffled, and you froze, watching as he paused for only a moment, before flipping over and away from the side you’d been sleeping on, a sleepy huff sounding from him, but he was still snoozing heavily, and you let out a little sigh. Your coat was hanging on the rack, and you grabbed that too, anticipating ho grateful you’d be to have it as you battled against the freezing cold that was surrounding you, toes chilling more and more against the concrete, but you didn’t want to wait much longer to leave.

A scrap of paper, a post-it note from the pad in the hall and a pen that barely had any ink left in, but you scribbled down a few quick words, pinning it up to the corkboard beside the door, and nodding to yourself as you deemed it good enough.

‘had a great time last night, thx.’

With a smiley face and a sign on your name to finish it off, you were undoing the catch across the door, the chain rattling slightly as it fell loose, and you winced, waiting to see if you’d woken him again, the studio apartment he resided within offering little in the way of walls and doors to muffle the muted noises of your escape. When you deemed it clear, your hand sealed around the door handle, clicking it open carefully, and pulling the door towards yourself.

So close, the corridor in sight, but the alarm beeped loudly, and you jumped, the computerised voice startling you so violently that your whole body jerked a little, and you went wide-eyed. You closed the door, hoping it would stop, but the beeping only intensified, and your heart raced in your chest.

“Shit!” Your voice was hissed out in a whisper, and you panicked, hearing the man in bed begin to stir a little, and in a last-minute bid to try and reclaim what little dignity you had left, not wanting to be caught sneaking out, you tore the note back down from the pin-board crinkling it slightly and tiptoeing back to the bedroom. Placing your shoes and coat down quietly as the man began to surface, and you tucked yourself back under the covers on the opposite side, pulling them up to your neck and faking a yawn as he pushed himself up with a groan, sleep broken.

He wandered away from you, your eyes diverting from his body a little bit as the covers fell away, and you were grateful to find that at some point he’d pulled his boxers back on, because you weren’t sure you could handle any more embarrassment this morning. The beeping came to a stop, a mechanic voice informing you that the alarm had been rest, and he was rubbing at his face and yawning as he wandered back through.

“False alarm.” His voice was still raspy, filled with sleep and cracking a little.

“That’s so weird.” He only hummed in acknowledgement of your words, before he was shaking himself down, settling back into the bed and rolling onto his side, away from you as he fell right back into his slumber, and you sat up. “Bummer that it woke us up. I should probably get going anyway. I had fun, though!”

“Thanks, I think.” He was still half-asleep, barely processing your words, you picked at the sheets a little, trying to decide whether or not you were sufficiently polite enough to be able to leave yet.

“It was perfect for.. y’know.. what I needed. So, thanks, Joe.”

“Joel.” He mumbled, your brows furrowing as your legs swung over the edge of the bed, feet hitting the floor, and a loud creak sounded out under your sudden weight on the floorboards.

“What?” He huffed, deciding that sleep clearly wasn’t a luxury he was going to reclaim, and he pushed himself to sit up, pillows popped behind him.

“My name, it’s Joel.”

“What did I say?” Your fingers were doing up your laces, ignoring the burning heat of his gaze on you.

“Joe. My name has a little ‘L’ at the end. Joel.”

“Right, yeah, my bad.” You cringed a little, picking up your coat from the floor, and pulling it up your arms, an amused look on his face as he watched you.

“Did you sleep fully dressed?”

You looked down, shrugging a little and swallowing thickly as this got more and more awkward, and this wasn’t exactly how you’d pictured the morning after your first one night stand going. “I, uh, got cold.”

“Uh-huh.” You patted your hand at your sides, not sure what else to do, and he stretched his arms out, rolling his head from side to side, before looking at you again. “So, do you want to get some breakfast? Or do you normally just take off?”

“Normally?” He paused his stretching, looking up at you, a confused expression flicking across handsome features, and he made a vaguely confused noise, as though he didn’t know what he’d just spoken. “You said ‘normally’. Like, as if I do this so often that I’d have a normal and abnormal version of it.”

“That’s not what I meant. I have no idea how often you do this, I just thou-”

“I told you last night that this was my first time doing this, or even anything remotely like this!” You remembered that part clearly, because you choked a little on your words when telling him, and then he’d laughed breathlessly and kissed you, while pushing you back into his bed, and your face flushed as you remembered the exact moment, graphic detail almost disturbing.

“Yeah, but, c’mon.” You raised your brows at him, hands sitting on your hips as you stared at him, hoping your face portrayed the fact that you absolutely did not know. “(Y/N), c’mon. Do you really expect me to believe that this is your first one night stand, ever?”

“Yes! Because it is!” He stared at you blankly, before shrugging a little, seeming to accept it, but you were still feeling distinctly judged. “The only reason I’m even here is that my roommate and best friend had her boyfriend over, and I was feeling particularly lonely in the holidays, and they were, y’know, about to.. so, I had to do something, an-”

“No, yeah, you were sexiled, or whatever. I remember that. It’s just, surely this isn’t the first time your roommate has wanted to sleep with her boyfriend while you were home, so this can’t be the first time you’ve.. yeah.” He waved his hands, motioning between the two of you, and your arms crossed over your chest, glaring at him.

“I am sensing some distinctly judgy vibes coming from your side of the bed - which is odd, considering what we did took teamwork - and I haven’t even done anything worth judging!”

“There’s no judgy vibes coming from this side of the bed!” He laughed a little, shaking his head incredulously at you, and had your anger not been reaching its peak, you probably would have been a little more embarrassed. “Honestly, I really admire what you did. I wish more girls were that forward.”

“Forward?” You seethed, rolling your eyes at him. “There we go with that ‘slut’ thing again!”

“Wha- what ‘slut thing’? I’m not calling you a slut!” He moved now, standing up himself from the bed and you averted your eyes, letting him scoop up his shirt from the floor and tug it on over his head. “I’m calling you a girl, who went over to a stranger’s house at midnight. If only there was a word for that.”

“You know what, screw you!”

“That was a joke.” You stormed past him, hearing him chase after you with his own laughs as he tried to suppress them. “That was a joke! I’m sorry, bad timing.”

“You invited me here, just remember that!”

“That’s not quite how it happened, but it doesn’t matter.” He was biting at the inside of his cheek to contain his smile, fixing you with an amused gaze. “Look, why don’t we just have some breakfast? I make really good oatmeal, with a little smiley face made out of jam.” He almost had you, your resolve breaking just a little, before he was snickering to himself again. “And it’s not slutty at all.”

“Save your stupid oatmeal, I think I’m just going to take off.” You swung the door open, a bitter smile on your face as you looked back at him. “Thanks for having me, it was just awesome getting to know you. Have a great life, Joe.”

“Okay, cool, well, I’m just going to assume you did it on purpose that time, because I already told you a bunch of times that it’s Joel with an ‘L’.”

“It wasn’t, but don’t worry, you just have a stupid name!”

“Great.” He huffed, no amusement left in him as he stared at you with frustration. “Well, ‘bye! Lovely having sex with you!”

“Wish I could say the same!” You hissed, his jaw dropping a little, before his eyes were narrowing.

“Sounded like you had a pretty good time last night.”

“Don’t believe everything you hear.” You were prideful and mean, and you’d probably feel bad about it later but right now it was the only way you were getting through this disaster of a morning. “Especially when it’s something like ‘Hey, Joel - cool name.’ Like, what is that? Sounds like the first draft of a name!”

“Okay. Fuck you, (Y/N).”

“Fuck you, back!”

It was a weak ending to the argument, but you didn’t care, the door slamming behind you as you stormed away, quick to hold your coat closer to your body as the temperature between the apartment on the halls was radically different, your breath clouding in the air even from within the building, and you located the staircase.

It was only four floors up, the building being rather oddly constructed, only two apartments per floor, and it was unusually quiet behind all of the doors. When you finally reached the main entrance, remembering him coming downstairs to let you in last night, you undid the catch, your shoulder pushing against the fogged up glass as you made to leave, and a confused and slightly pained cry sounded from you as the door refused to budge even an inch.

You tried again, before you were wiping at the glass, to clear the condensation and try and see what the blockage was, but you quickly discovered it wasn’t fog but ice. Moving over to the window beside a door labelled ‘laundry’, you were met with the sight of snow piled up high, almost three feet up to reach the base of the window, and the roads weren’t even visible. You hadn't realised just how heavy the snow had gotten, and how bad the extent of it all was, until now, where you could see the

“Oh, no, no, no.” Panic flooded through your system as you realised just how screwed you were, trapped in a building with no way out, and your phone was dying, and you weren’t even sure whether your roommate would be up in time to come and find you and clear the snow before the battery died. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

Pulling up google, you were quick to check the news reports in the area, finding that the snow had increased and come down heavily overnight, it was a city-wide issue, and there was no way that they’d be getting anywhere near where you were for hours, if that. It was still snowing, albeit not as heavily, but they were prioritising inner-city roads and train lines, not little apartment blocks on the edges of cute fields and open space.

Of all the people you could choose to hook up with, you had to pick the person who was living in the most inconvenient location for a snowstorm.

Glancing around, you realised this was it, you were just going to have to hunker down for a few hours, and in all fairness, it could be worse. At least it was clean and smelled pleasant. Settling yourself down against the cool concrete flooring in the edge of the room, you stretched your legs out before yourself, daring to tap the ‘call’ button on your phone, and bringing it to your ear.

You waited, listening to it ring all the way until it went to voicemail, and then again, and again. After three times, and a whole 5% of what little battery life you had left remaining, you gave up on your roommate, knowing that if it were you at home, you’d be snuggled up cosy in your bed and still fast-asleep too. Switching the device off to conserve power, your head fell back, resting on the wall. Most wonderful time of the year, my ass.

“No, it was super fuckin’ weird. Totally fine, and then suddenly everything is a screaming match an-”

You cursed under your breath, the one voice you had wished you wouldn't have to hear again, followed by rhythmic bouncing of footsteps coming down the stairs, and you glanced up, offering a small wave to the person whom you’d hoped never to have to see again, and his brows furrowed, pausing where he was stood.

“I’m gonna’ have to call you back.” Tucking his phone into his pocket, he took the final few stairs slowly, coming to stand before you, and you pushed yourself up from the floor, brushing the dust from your pants. “What are you still doing here?”

“Blizzard. A whole bunch of snow piled up and now the door won’t open.”

He turned back to look at it, adjusting the basket in his arm before placing it down on the floor, and moving over to the door. Your arms crossed over your chest as he did, watching as he pushed the barred handle down, shoulder ramming into the door, and a grunt left him as it refused to move. He tried it again, before rubbing at his arm lightly, and moving away to peer out of the window just like you did, a little shocked at just how much it was, and you rolled your eyes at him. “I told you.”

“I was just trying to help, there was no need to be rude.” He muttered, and you scoffed once again, turning away from him as he picked the basket back up. He wandered away from you, into the laundry room, disappearing from sight, and you sat back down on the floor.

You heard him test the taps, water still coming through them miraculously, the metal and water within not having completely frozen over, and you brought your legs up to your chest, arms crossing over your knees and chin balancing atop them, preparing yourself for a long while of being bored. It was after many clicks and dials, the soft beeping of the machines as they rumbled to life, that you heard him appear once again, dirty Adidas scraping against the floor, before he came to a stop in front of you.

He looked at you for a minute, seeming to analyse whatever thoughts were going through his head, and you raised a single brow at him, prompting him to speak sooner rather than later. “You can come back upstairs, if you want.” You stared at him for a further minute, jaw dropping a little, and he tucked the laundry stock under his arm. “It’s going to be hours until those roads are cleared, even if they do unblock the doorway. You’ll freeze down here, and you haven’t eaten anything. I’ll make you some breakfast.”

He offered his hand, and sliding your palm against his, he pulled you up from your position on the floor, dropping your hand and spinning on his heel to guide you back up to his apartment. It was awkward, to say the least, and you rubbed your hands together to try and warm them back up, the chill in the air beginning to seep into your clothing and cool you to the core.

When the door opened back up, you let out a little groan, wishing you’d suppressed it better but being caught off guard, and you heard the man before you huff a laugh as your eyes scanned over the small space heater that was set up in the corner, warmth radiating from it and spreading across the apartment. Hanging your coat back up on the hooks by the door, you shuffled through the apartment, not too sure what you should be doing now that you’d returned to the scene of the crime from which you’d fled.

You chose to simply follow what Joel was doing, repeating his name like a mantra in your head so that you didn’t mess it up again, and taking a seat at the round table with a few mismatching chairs around it within his kitchen, watching as he clattered about with pots and pans at the stove. You busied yourself with your phone, finding that you at least had a signal, and could access your social media.

Instagram and snapchat were filled with videos and photographs of the snow, taken aesthetically from the windows, roofs and balconies of people who were lucky enough to be in their own homes, curled up with steaming mugs of tea and the loves of their lives to take pictures from behind frosted glass of the winter wonderland that was more like the bane of your existence.

You replied to a few texts, and messaged your friend again to update her, leaving it there for her to read whenever she came back around to consciousness, to tell her that she didn’t need to rush, and that you’d at least found yourself somewhere to keep warm and safe. Your head snapped up when a steaming bowl of oatmeal was paced down before you, smelling delicious with maple syrup and fruit, a spoon clattering down beside it before the scraping of the chair opposite you was ringing in your ears.

Poking at it, you couldn't help but notice the smiley face sitting on top, the syrup beginning to sink in as the blueberries scattered over the top were almost half-submerged, looking a little wonky but still adorable, and you looked up at the man who was already tucking into his own, finding him staring at his own meal in silence.

“Smiley face.”

Your voice cracked a little with your whispered words, but his eyes met yours, pausing only a second before the edges of his lips were flicking up in a gesture of a smile, and one shoulder rose and fell in a weak shrug. “Told you I would.”

You only nodded, spoon stirring at the contents of the dish, mixing it all together and the face on the porridge disappeared as you blended the flavours, before lifting a heaped spoonful to your mouth. Blowing on it carefully, you took the mouthful between your lips, this time successful in holding in your little sounds of appreciation as the food hit your tongue. It was delicious, you couldn't deny that, warm and satisfying as you tried to fight off the cold that was still threatening to creep in.

It wasn’t that you hadn't worn suitable clothing, but you’d only worn a camisole and jumper with a pair of leggings that were undoubtedly on the thinner side, because warm clothing hadn't been your main concern the night before when they were only going to be peeled from your body an hour or so later, discarded to the floor. Now, you were deeply regretting that decision.

You also hadn't realised how hungry you’d been, because the headache that had been forming, throbbing behind your eyes with a dull ache, was beginning to recede, the anger that had been dwelling within your system was fading, and you were allowing your mind to replace it with guilt instead. You’d been a little crass this morning, yelling and lashing out at Joel when it had been your fault that you felt like shit, succumbing to the sensual temptations of nightfall and your loneliness, and blaming your decisions on everyone else when the sun had risen.

“Look, we’re going to be here a while.” You jumped, spoon clanging against the edge of your dish, and Joel tried - and failed - to bite back his smirk at the amusement of having scared you out of your thoughts. “Why don’t we just pretend like last night never happened? Start over again? You can stay on one side of the apartment, I’ll stay on mine, we don’t even really have to interact. We’ll just coexist until the snow is cleared, and then we can part ways and never meet again. Sound cool?”

You let out a breathy sound of amusement, nodding your head as relief flooded your system. “Works for me. Clean slate?”

“Great.” He nodded, that flickering look of amusement passing over his face again, and he reached a hand out across the table. “Hey, I’m Joel. Your roommate for the next couple of hours.”

You paused, letting out a sigh as he arched his eyebrows in a silent question as to whether you were going to leave him hanging, before you accepted the outstretched hand and shook it. Giving him your name in return, he nodded his head, before he was standing up, and taking both of your bowls away to the sink, dumping them into the soapy water that he’d already prepared so that they could begin to soak.

Crossing your legs under the table, and your nails tapped for a second, silence filling the room for a few minutes, and you desperately searched for something to say that you could use to fill the silence. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

His voice sounded almost as strained as your own, but you let out a little sigh at the fact that at least he’d broken the tense silence between you both, and you hummed. “Yeah, that's good with me. Do you have a phone charger I can use?”

He turned to look at you over his shoulder, hands still submerged within the sink, but you waved the device at him as he took it in. “Yeah, I’ll grab it. You can go and pick a film; remote is around there somewhere. Pick something good.”

You were more than eager to get away from sitting idly at the table in awkward quiet and waiting for the hours to pass, each tortuous minute making you wish you’d just remained downstairs alone, slowly freezing into a statue. The couch was large and plush, slightly worn seats but it only made it look more inviting, a plethora of cushions and pillows laid out for you to settle into, and just as he’d said, the controls were already out on the coffee table, a few coasters and random pieces of stationary covering the surface too.

Switching the television on, you waited for it to boot up, finding that he had netflix downloaded, and there was a list of films in the back of your mind that you’d been waiting to watch, and you flickered through them all as you stared at the screen. Narrowing it down, you felt like a comedy might be a good choice, lighten the air with something easy going and funny, nothing too intense, and the couch dipped at the very opposite end as your company sat as far away as he could, leaning against the other arm of the couch but dropping his phone charger down onto the space between, an olive branch extended in the form of a tangled phone wire.

“How about ‘Jumanji’?”

“Good film.” He mumbled, and you nibble don your lower lip, before he was letting out the breath he was holding and turning towards you. “Second one is on here too, we could watch them both. I haven’t seen that one, just the first.”

“It’s a plan.” You confirmed, clicking play on the movie and crossing your legs, leaning over the side of the couch to try and locate a socket, pushing the plug into the wall, and hooking your phone up the power, the device buzzing in your hand as it began to charge up.

Dwayne Johnson and Kevin Hart were an entertaining pair on screen, and as the group began to navigate through the jungle, you let yourself become immersed in what you were seeing on screen. It wasn’t all that hard, because Jack black was hilarious. The occasional echo of a laugh from one or both of you would crack the silence when something happened, and the picking of loose threads on your jumper had begun to stop as you settled a little more into the situation, your anxiety settling and not needing to be quite so stiff.

When there were only twenty minutes or so until the end of the first movie, your phone buzzed, and then again, a series of rapidly incoming texts, and flipping over the device, it was revealed to you as your friend. Swiping it open, you pulled up the texts, chuckling to yourself at the frantic collection of broken messages that she had sent to you.

[soph 🌹] only just woke up, so sorry!!

[soph 🌹] just checked news, no way to get to u!!

[soph 🌹] roads all blocked, wtf, when did this snow come down??

[soph 🌹] kinda funny tho.

[soph 🌹] only u would go for a hookup and get snowed in there.

[soph 🌹] is he at least hot? tap that again. fill the day with hot sex??

You scoffed, but your lips were forming a smile, and you could feel the glances that were being cast your way every couple of seconds, choosing to glance up and return the look as he turned to face you once again.

“My friend just woke up, she’s finally learning about the snow.”

“Did she know you were still, um..” He scratched at the back of his neck, other hand casting around the apartment. “-out?”

Heat flushed your own cheeks, before you were nodding your head, and he seemed or accept that, silence forming between you both once again as he turned to look back at the TV screen, but stretching out with a little more comfort, long legs crossing at the ankles from where they were extended before him, and he lounged back a little more.

> that’s definitely not going to happen.

You were only given a moment of reprieve, before your phone was chiming again.

[soph 🌹] why not!! not like you’ve got anything else to do

> probably bc we're not exactly getting along. civil at best.

She didn’t respond after that, leaving your message on read, and you assumed that she’d become preoccupied with the man you guessed would have spent the night there with her, and once again, you were envious of her for being at home and comfortable in her own space, when instead, you felt like you were walking on eggshells.

The majority of the second movie was spent more on taking in the details of the apartment around you, instead of the plot line and characters. Posters hung up on the walls, and you wondered how he could afford to live here, the place was nice, but there was nothing here that suggested another person lived in the apartment, but there was no way a college student could afford a place like this alone, unless his parents were paying for it. It was a nice area, the kind of place you could live with if you had kids or were elderly, and you were pretty sure on your way over here the night before that you’d seen someone walking a dog, making it the picture-perfect neighbourhood.

College textbooks and stationery were around, a stack of notebooks and text printouts sitting on the little table before you, and it was almost fifteen minutes before you built up the confidence to lean forward and take them all in with a little more detail. He watched as you went, your eyes moving to meet his as you waited for permission, but he never stopped you, so you picked up the first book that was on top.

‘Art within Literature: The Importance of Illustrations’

“Didn’t have you pegged for an art kinda’ guy.” You mumbled, and you heard him chuckle, before he was sitting up a little straighter, moving across the couch closer to you just slightly, to see which one you had picked up.

“Not the first time I’ve been told that, actually.” He grabbed at the controls, your eyes flickering up to the screen as the sound of the movie cut off, replaced by the boring drone of the local news station, but right now, it may as well have been the most important thing in the world as the two of you perked up to listen. Placing the book back down, your legs folded underneath yourself, and you secretly had your hopes up that they were going to be getting around to this end of the city soon.

It took a while, the list of places that were being cleared was working out from the inner city in circles, your hopes falling more and more and you listened, getting an update on the weather about how it was expected to be even colder tonight than it had been last night, and the snowfall wasn’t expected to stop anytime soon, but instead, you would be here even longer than expected. The earliest that there were any plans for the road to be cleared in this area was tomorrow morning, and sadness was once again spiking within your system, feeling the man beside you sag with just as much disappointment.

“Guess I’ll set the couch up for you, later.”

“Thanks.” You hoped your lack of enthusiasm didn’t show in your voice, because you truly were grateful, and he stood up, wandering away to his bedroom and grabbing the plastic woven basket he’d been using earlier as he went, presumably to start up another load of laundry. When the door to the apartment closed behind him, you were left in silence once again, and you turned down the volume and picked up the next book that had been on his pile.

This one was a sketchbook, that much was clear as soon as you opened the book, and his full name was written across the front page, information on how to return it if it came up lost followed it, smudged fingerprints from graphite and coloured chalks were also along the corners. Flipping the first page, you were caught a little off-guard by the image you saw, yet not entirely surprised.

Clearly, his passions lay with fiction and fantasy, the name of what you assumed to be some kind of ancient Greek novel, much like ‘Iliad’ or ‘The Odyssey’, because a range of different creatures and monsters were scattered across the pages beautiful drawings, incredible details and shading, and you’d never seen anything quite like them. You wanted to trace your fingers over them, but resisted in fear of ruining the delicate art, and flicked through the pages instead.

At the top of some pages the book titles changed, inspirations from different famous works, some you knew and some you didn’t, but the drawings were always perfect. When you reached the final page, you placed it down, guilt once again running through your veins as you remembered the way you’d snapped at him this morning, because the more you learned about him, the more you realised he wasn’t all that bad, and he was probably a pretty decent guy, if you’d just given him the chance to be.

Getting up from the couch, an idea was forming in your mind, a way to at least try to pay him back or make your appreciation known, and you found yourself again in his kitchen, hands on the cupboard doors as you began to look through them.

They were mostly empty, not much in place but enough to make it work, you were sure of it, you could whip up something out of all of it, and you moved across to have a look at the contents of the tall refrigerator hidden in the corner.

“Need help finding something?”

You startled, turning to look at him and closing the fridge, and his hands were on his hips as he stared at you, your arms wrapping around yourself gently as you shrugged. You couldn’t blame him for being a little putt-off, you were just a stranger after all, but you wanted to at least try and make proper amends with him, and so you let yourself be unbothered by the frustration flashing over his features.

“What are you looking for?”

“I was just seeing what you had in.” You waved a hand behind yourself, swallowing thickly and taking a small step around the dining table towards him. “I was just seeing what you had, because I was hoping to cook dinner for you, maybe? Y’know, as a thank you for letting me stay with you, and keeping me warm and all, even though I was rude this morning.”

“Oh.” The tightness in his shoulders loosened, his body slumping a little, tension melting away, and a bashful look flickered over the anger, taking its place as he tried to muster a smile for you. “That would, uh, be nice. Thanks. I don’t have a lot in, though.”

“You really don’t. Do you just survive on junk food and pasta?”

He laughed, a genuine laugh at that, before he was standing before you and reaching over to the cupboards, pulling out a packet of pasta, and holding it out to you. “What’s wrong with junk food and pasta?”

“Nothing! But it’s all you have!”

He only grinned, opening the fridge and standing to the side, double-checking what he had in. “Well, I’ll have you know that I make a great minestrone, and that’s what I was planning to have for my dinner tonight. You can join me.”

“I don’t know how to make that.”

“Well, I’ll teach you, and it’ll change your life. I swear it.” He closed the fridge, leaning back against it with a questioning look on his face, and you shrugged, but you felt a lot more comfortable already, the simple banter between you both mending a broken bridge.

“I was supposed to be cooking you dinner though.”

“You can be my sous-chef, how about that?” Now that was a deal you could work with, and you shook his hand, this time it was filled with giggles and wide smiles, as opposed to the last time you’d come to an agreement over breakfast only a few hours ago, the beginning of the day bringing much brighter prospects than the early morning had. “Now, what do you want to do until then?”

That was a good question, and it took you a minute to think about it, eyes glancing around his apartment for inspiration, pausing on the television stand with boxes of games stacked up underneath, and you lit up a little. “How about board games?”

He groaned, loudly, and you found amusement in it once again, being that this was his apartment, and he was finding issues with his own methods of entertainment and possessions. “Nobody plays board games while sober.”

“It's midday! We’re not getting drunk at midday!”

It was scandalous, and you didn’t have much more space to give over to scandals within the next twenty-four hours, pretty much having reached your quota already, and a cheeky look flickered over his features. “Well, we don’t necessarily have to drink..”

“What are you suggesting?”

Your eyes narrowed on him, and he spun on his heel, not saying a thing but letting you follow him. He cleared the books from the coffee table, stacking them all away on the floor in the corner, before lifting up the fold in the middle. He reached inside, and you waited patiently, your jaw dropping as he revealed the item to you, looking more than proud of himself.

A bong, tall with green glass, and it was decorated and bejewelled along the bottom, stickers and actions figures stuck to it, the whole collections making you snort a laugh as you looked at him, before your hands were landing on your hips and a look that you hoped read as ‘seriously?’ written on your face.

“What, you don’t want to?” He waited a moment longer, nibbling on his lower lip, before sitting on the opposite side of the coffee table and finding his lighter. He also reached for the first box on the top of the file, producing a box with one word across the front, brightly coloured and you recognised it. “Suit yourself, but I am. I need something to get through the whole afternoon with you.”

The comment would have stung a lot more had it not been for the cheeky wink that he added onto the end to tell you he was joking, and you sat cross-legged opposite him, picking up the box labelled ‘UNO’ and tipping the deck out into your hands. He clicked at the lighter, waiting for it to spark up, before his mouth was meeting one end of the glass, the contents inside bubbling and gurgling a little as he inhaled, and you dealt out the cards.

He hummed, head tipping back, eyes closed as he settled into the feeling of his eye, and as though he could feel you watching him, his head fell forwards, eyes opening to look at you. “Sure you don’t want any?”

You waited only a moment longer, before huffing out, holding your hand out for them both. “Fine, hand it over.” He placed both pieces on the table, sliding them across the polished wood to you, and you picked them up. Clicking on the flame, you adjusted it in your hand, lips pressing to the cool rim of glass, swilling it a little for good measure, before you were lighting up the end.

Steamy smoke curled up into your lungs as you inhaled deeply, warmth racing through your body as a tingling kind of feeling ran through your throat, tickling and making you grin, in a way that you were familiar with and yet hadn't been accustomed to in a long time. The buzzing feeling raced through your body, already kick-starting nerves and reactions that had felt dormant for a long time.

You hadn't been to a party, a real and exciting college party, since your break up. You’d locked in and sealed yourself away ever since your heart had been broken, and it felt good to adventure back out into the world like this, even if you were locked away with a guy from halfway across town whom you’d known for about twelve hours. “Okay, you were right.”

“Feel better?” He grinned, holding his hand out for the device, and for a little while, the two of you simply shared it between you, letting that initial tingle grow into a proper buzz the world around you beginning to slip away into a haze. Your vision was soft around the edges, slightly out of focus, and the world felt a little more comfortable. Spreading your legs out underneath the coffee table, your back leaned against the couch, feet in his lap as he sat with his legs crossed and folded under him.

When you’d decided your high was enough, you’d started with the games. ‘UNO’ had brought on rivalry and chaos, the two of you raising your voices to the point that you’d been yelling at one another, throats going a little sore as you cursed and laughed, not quite sentient enough now to make the best calls at the game, and so it had felt like it had dragged on for hours, before you had finally been the champion.

He had challenged you to a rematch in the form of a board game called ‘Frustration’, and the two of you had been so busy playing that the time was slipping away around you, the board being flipped by you as he began to win, counters scattering across the floor, and he looked completely and utterly insulted at it, before cracking up laughing with you once again.

After that, you had sprawled all of the games out over the floor, some of them being team games that you were unable to play together, and you’d refused to play a drawing game with him, because you’d peeked at his designs, and were scared to showcase your own drawing in front of him, worried that he’d completely put you to shame and leave you embarrassed.

Poker had been too much of a challenge, half of the pieces for the monopoly board were missing, and you’d done every round of Mario Kart at least once by the time it had come to turning off the console under the TV. Joining you by your side, the two of you were slumped lazily into the couch cushions, shoulders pressed together as the bong sat between you, fresh hits racing through your systems to keep everything exciting, but the thrill of the act itself was beginning to die off, and you were once again out of things to do for entertainment.

At some point, the light outside of the windows had faded, the clumps of snow that had been left along the windowsill were still rising, flakes still falling in flurries from the clouds, except what had once been visible in the day was now dark, the low light of the lamps in the room spilling golden light out across the walls and carpet. Rolling your head to the side, you took in the man sitting before you, watching as he tapped his feet repetitively on the coffee table to the beat of a song you didn’t recognise.

“I looked at your drawings.”

“What?” He paused, twisting to look at you, and he sat up a little further.

“I was being nosey. Earlier, I looked at the drawings in your sketchbook.” His gaze flickered to the leather-bound book in the corner, stacked up with the rest of his belongings, before getting up and putting the bong away, folding the edge of the table back down, and wiping a hand over his face, cheeks tinted pink, and you weren’t sure if it was from the warmth of the room or out of embarrassment. “They’re incredible. Some of the best illustrations I’ve ever seen, actually.”

“You really think so?”

“Yeah. I could never draw like that. I can’t even draw stick men without them being wobbly, sometimes.” He smiled again at that, and you found an odd feeling running through you at the idea that you were able to make him smile, your stomach clenching and twisting as he looked at you fondly, shaking his head a little, eyes dropping to the floor.

“I don’t get a lot of practice with it, I can’t get any apprenticeships yet because nobody wants to hire someone who’s only experience is in one element. Mine being fantasy-sorts, I suppose.”

“Will you draw me?”

“What?” He looked a little startled, eyes wide, and you shuffled forwards on the couch, hand twitching to reach out and take his as you tried to reassure him, watching uncertainty flick over his face. “I don’t really have experience with drawing people. More the imaginary things, described but never seen, less to fuck up if there’s nothing to compare it to.”

“I don’t think you’ll fuck it up.” He swallowed thickly, moving to kneel on the other side of the table, his sketchbook in hands as he fidgeted with it.

“If I mess it up, don’t make me show you, okay?” You only nodded, and he hesitated a moment longer, before getting himself into a more comfortable position, searching through the drawers around him to find his pencils and equipment, laying them out and taking an extra amount of time to line them all up perfectly, and you were sure it was because he wanted to give himself a spare few seconds to hype himself up to it.

You waited patiently, just now beginning to process what was about to happen, and that you’d have to sit still for a long time, while he stared at you, drawing every highlight and flaw of you, while you remained steady under his gaze for as long as it took. When he was ready, you moved yourself a little more, sinking down onto the floor after rounding the coffee table, sitting at the side of it as he positioned you.

“Can you, um-” He tugged two fingers on his own t-shirt, and you looked down at your hoodie, the hood of it crowding around your shoulders, and you nodded, tugging it up from the bottom and over your head. A cool breeze swept over your skin, exposed with only the thin satin camisole hanging on your body to keep you warm, but you felt yourself light up on fire with the way his eyes swept over you. “However you’re comfortable. I’m just going to draw your head and shoulders, so, do whatever you want.”

You pressed your elbows to the wood, hand forming a loose fist and your cheek pressed to it, leaning like that, a slight ankle, and he nodded his head to himself, seeming to approve of the pose. Picking up a pencil, he studied you for a second, the nib hovering over the paper as he held it at an angle that couldn't see, perfect for him to work on though, before stopping.

Placing the pencil between his lips, he held it there, reaching forwards to pull a few strands of your hair free on either side, framing your face and letting them dangle there, curling one around his finger a little to make it twisted, before he was pulling back. “You’re so pretty.”

After that, he was working. Quick strokes of his pencil over the paper as he created the first outline of you, your head, where and how your hair would fall, your hand holding up your head and down to the spaghetti straps on your shoulders, quick movements, a lot of erasing, and very light brushes of the graphite over the paper. Once he was sure he had the form right, only a few minutes in, he started on the details.

His eyes, lingering on your face, licking at his lips to keep them wet as he worked, parted for short breaths, unaware of what he was doing and you resisted biting down on your own as you looked at him, trying to hold your position. It was hard, the look of concentration on his face while staring at your mouth, or the determination in his eyes as he held your gaze and yet was so far away, taking in every little detail, until he was rubbing his finger over certain spots to create shading, and create the minute detailed with finally sharped tips.

Your arm was sore and neck aching when he finally told you that you could sit up, and you rolled your head from side to side, loosening the muscles and tendons that had begun to lock up from the prolonged length of time motionless. He was clutching the pad to his chest, fingers tapping at the back, some slightly smudged with grey graphite, and you inched closer to him.

“Can I see?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” He tried to laugh at his own comment, but was nervous, and you placed a hand over his gently, pulling it toward you slowly, and he gave no reluctance, but wasn’t moving of his own accord. “Okay, you can look, but you have to remember that I’m not good at drawing people, and I’m still high as fuck.”

You’d almost forgotten about that, and it was just now clicking with you why you’d been bold enough to do something like model for a sketch, your inhibitions lower, the boldness of nightfall giving you yet another boost in something that you’d never have done earlier in the day. Taking it from him, you turned it around, seeing the nervous look on his face before you were looking down at the sketch. His own worries had prepared you for the worst, but as you looked at it, you decided it wasn’t all that bad.

There was certainly work to be done, but he had the basic forms down, even you could tell that. It was clear that his skill lay elsewhere, the detailing of things like fins and scales was nothing like drawing the subtle imperfections of skin and the dips and dimples of a face, the creases where a fist held a head up nothing like the folds along the back of a monster, but he certainly had a grounding to work from, and you loved what you were seeing despite it all.

“I love it.”

“You’re totally lying to me.” He mumbled, and you shook your head, placing the notepad down, and fixing your attention on him. “It fuckin’ sucks.”

“It does not! I think it's really good. Especially since you said you had no practice, I was expecting something bad. This is so much better than you made it out to be.”

His lips flicked up at the sides, his head raising, bringing him a little closer to you as he straightened out, feeling better about it all now. “You should’ve seen some of the things I drew in high school. My portraits were awful back then, but I was drawing people while in the car, so it wasn't the smoothest of working places.”

“Yeah, well, I think you’ve come a long way since high school, and I think you’re really talented.”

He hummed, eyes flicking down to your lips again, and this time, as he licked at his own, there was no excuse of artwork, or anything else, your heart jumping slightly in your chest. There was a moment, a second’s hesitation as you questioned whether this was what you wanted. There was time to stop, to pull back, his nose bumping yours lightly, warm breath washing over your mouth, and you were a second away from closing the gap, before loud knocking was sounding at the door, and making the decision for you.

Pulling back, his gaze went over your head, brows furrowing as he stared at the door. “Hello?”

You winced at the loud shout, and he mumbled an apology upon realising it, slight disappointment surging through you, but not as much as relief. You were growing more and more attached to this man, but at the end of the snowstorm, you’d still have to leave, and he was still a stranger. You were high, and the romanticism of the situation was morphing things to look rose-tinted and alluring, and you wanted to be of a rational mind to make a decision like that. “Hey, Joel! It’s Mandy, I was wondering if you would grab your stuff from the laundry room, so I can put a couple of loads through?”

His eyes went wide, gaze dropping to your own for a second. “Shit, I totally forgot about the laundry!”

His hand slipped down to yours, fingers lacing together as he tugged you up from the floor, handing you the basket that had been discarded hours ago, and he opened the door, an older woman who looked positively exhausted, arms full of boy’s clothing, and you pitied her knowing that she must be trapped in a shoebox apartment with a son who would be bouncing off of the walls and unable to burn off that energy.

“Sorry, Mandy, I forgot about it. We’ll grab it now.”

“We?” You muttered, the woman’s eyes flickering over you in amusement, and you were tugged out of the apartment and towards the stairs quickly, hearing the door close behind you, and the much slower steps of the tired mother as she trailed you.

The concrete was cold underfoot, especially the lower you got, and you hissed as your sock-covered feet hit the icy stone, never having had a chance to put on your shoes. Putting the container down, he opened it up, steam curling out into the air, even though the dryer had been finished for hours.

‘You couldn't have let me put my jumper on before we came down here? It’s literally freezing over right outside that window.” You mumbled, Joel turning to you, and he cringed a little, as though he had only just remembered the scrap of fabric you were wearing as a top. Pulling an armful of the warm clothing, he sorted through them, pulling a cosy looking jacket from within, and wrapping it over your shoulders. Heat seeped back into your body, warmed from the machine, and you barely noticed the mother entering the room, waiting for Joel to clear his clothes out, watching as you ripped the hoodie up along the front of your body, hood pulled up and hands made into paws by the long sleeves.

“You look cute.”

“I look cold.” You retorted, and he only rolled his eyes, but Mandy laughed, and that was enough recognition for you.

“Yeah, well, we can make some hot food when we get upstairs and you’ll be fine, how about that?” He sat the collection under one arm, offering his other hand to you, and you pushed up the sleeve of the borrowed hoodie, weaving your fingers with his as he guided you from the room.

“I’ve been waiting for this minestrone you’ve been boasting about. I need to see if it lives up to the hype.

“Hey, everyone loves my minestrone!” He backed his way into the home, dropping your hand in order to place down the basket that wouldn’t be looked at for hours now, you were sure. He ushered you into the kitchen, hurting you along until his hands were tickling at your sides and you were squirming under his touch, laugh loudly as he pushed you into the little room.

You worked alongside him, trying to take in the information he was giving to you but it was hard, because the little things he was doing were distracting you. The way in which his hands moved as he chopped the vegetables or prepare the meat, the passionate easy his voice sounded as he told you all about it, his eyes sparkling a little while instructing you, and the little jokes he’d make while bumping you out of the way with his hip, or guiding you around with nudges of his elbow or shoulders.

While cooking, he opened up a little, a story that you’d never have expected to learn from him, but he told you anyway. His parents had died in a car accident when he was young, too young to really remember them, but he’s been allowed to take several boxes of things with him to his foster home as he waited for adoption, and he’d taken his mother’s recipe book as one of those items.

When he’d been adopted, a man whose family had died and he’d become a foster parent, had helped him experiment with his cooking and drawing, instead of forcing him into typical paths for men to take, making him become a football player or a lawyer like he’d expected he’d end up after leaving the system.

A younger sister, also adopted from another family called Minnow, and a dog adopted from a shelter called ‘Boy’, and suddenly, in the space of time that it had taken to make the meal, delicious smell floating around you, he’d spilled to you his history, and you’d listened quietly as he got it off his chest, figuring out somewhere along the way that you were probably one of the only people to ever know this story.

You weren’t sure if that brought you comfort or not, whether he was telling you out of trust and connection, or whether he was telling you because he knew that you’d never see one another again after today, and so he didn’t mind sharing his deepest protected truths. During the heavy discussion, the nibbling of food and the time passing you by, the high you’d once claimed was beginning to fizzle out, everything coming back to sharpness once again, and yet somehow, just by being in his presence, you still felt that same freedom.

When you were sitting back at the table, he was staring at you with excitement now, watching as you lifted a spoonful of the concoction to your lips to try it, seemingly leaving behind the heavy conversation that had taken place as he simply moved on. You took a longer than needed time to assess it, humming contemplatively just to put him through his paces, before finally giving in.

“Okay, this is really good, I’ll give you that.”

“I told you so!” He cheered loudly, arms thrown up in the air, and you laughed a little, tucking into your meal, and wiping up one of the bread rolls that he'd placed into the middle of the table for you both.

You were tempted to ask him for the recipe, knowing that one day you’d be craving it again, and yet, you weren’t sure if you could, whether it would be appropriate or whether that would be crossing a line, to ask to take away a piece of something that he shared with his late mother.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.” You spoke, tearing off a mouthful of bread roll after dipping it into the soup mix, and chewing slowly as you waited for him to reply.

“Did you mean it?” You paused your chewing, confusion making itself known on your face as you silently questioned what he meant, stirring your dinner with your spoon as you waited for him to elaborate, and he swallowed his mouthful to do so. “When you said my name sounded like a first draft of a name.”

For the umpteenth time today, embarrassment and regret was flooding through you, and you took your time to finish the food you were eating, his gaze lingering on you as he waited. When you couldn't stall any longer, you sipped at your water, before giving in. “Yes, I did.” His mouth pursed into a thin line, and you reached a hand out across the table, trying to contain your amusement. “Like, a really good first draft, though, almost there!”

“Nice save.”

Silence fell between you both once again, eating food in a comfortable quiet, and once again the direct parallel to this morning’s porridge struck through you, only twelve hours having passed and yet absolutely everything was different between you both. You couldn't put your finger on what it was about him, something that had caught your attention the first time around had now got you captive again, and there was just something adorably charming about everything he did.

Handsome but bashful, shy but cocky, always making jokes but somehow being able to jump right into something deep and meaningful too, and you’d closed yourself off for so long that it was a little scary for everything you were feeling to come rushing back all at once.

You hadn't had a crush since high school, and you weren’t sure if you liked the idea of one forming now.

“What about the other thing, did you mean that, too?” You searched your mind, reliving that argument as you tried to work out what he was referring to, and you almost dropped your spoon as it all came crashing down, remembering the harsh words that you’d spat in the eat of the moment, and yet it didn’t make them any less true. You only nodded your head, and he let out a loud groan, pouting a little. “Well, that fucking sucks.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, it’s really hard to do! Women are just better at doing that themselves, y’know? We don’t have to talk about it.”

“That doesn't help! You can’t just, like, drop a bomb on me like that; ‘hey, maybe you've never made a girl come in your entire freakin’ life’ and then say you don’t want to talk about it!” He pushed his empty dish away from himself, and your brows raised, arms crossing over atop the table, staring at him critically, and deciding you were finished with your food. “I want to talk!”

“No way! Guys can't handle constructive criticism like that! We’ll end up just like we were this morning, and then we’ll be back to square one! I like how we are now!”

“No! I promise you, I can take it. Just, help me out, here?” He reached out, pushing the dishes out of the way so that nothing was in the way, putting on his best puppy dog eyes. “You help me, I’ll help you.”

“What do you mean help me? You think you got pointers for me?”

“This isn’t a one-way street! Last night was awesome, but you could improve on a few things too. Guess you’ll never know, now, though.” He sighed, glancing off over your head, and you knew it was bait, some very obvious bait at that, and you hated to fall for it, but your own insecurities were getting the best of you, and you huffed loudly.

“Fine!” He turned back to you, a wicked smile on his lips as he realised that clearly, he had won. “I bite, you got me. Go!”

“Okay, this isn't just you, I just wanna’ make that clear to start with.” You raised a brow, leaning back in your chair, arm still crossed and listening intently. “What is with the whole lights off, thing? The fuck is that? If the lights are off, like you requested and I so gentlemanly obliged, I could be having sex with anything! I don’t want to be having sex with anything, I want to be having sex with you.” He paused, eyes darting away from you for only a second, and he wet his lips. “Or, y’know, whoever it is I’m with.”

“Lights on? Wow, and all guys feel this way?” He opened his mouth to reply, before you were letting out a loud ‘booing’ sound. “Duh! Girls hear that more than ‘hello’. That’s all you got?”

“Okay, okay, alright.” He smirked slightly, leaning forwards and resting his forearms on the table. “You, and by you, I mean women in general, do this thing where you stand up, and kinda’ turn away, and then get undressed, like, super-fast. Like you’re at the doctors or something, getting a physical!”

“I’ve never had any complaints about how fast I undress before. Most guys like naked me.”

“I love naked you.” He dropped his gaze, scanning along your body, and you threw a bread roll at him as you realised he was remembering you without your clothes on from the night before, the soft accompaniment bouncing from his head and rolling over the table. “Hey! I’m just saying! Naked you is awesome to look at, and touch, but what I mean is that you could make the getting to being naked part a little more exciting.”

“Exciting?”

“Yeah! You know, do that whole slow bra thing, take it off to the side. Drop it in that sexy way. Do that little ass thing with your panties, y’know, where you just-” He wiggled in his seat, demonstrating the little as movement that all girls did with their panties when they wanted to feel a little sexy. “All I’m saying is that guys like the undressing part too, make it more of a.. thing.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes, actually. One more thing.” He paused, this seemingly the one he was most nervous about, and you leaned forward on your elbows, watching him lean in a little too, rolling his lips before speaking. “When I was inside of you, you did this thing. You started helping yourself a little bit, it kind of made me feel like I was being benched. Second-string, forgotten.”

“Duly noted.” You mumbled, and he shrugged a little, the space between you both going void of sound but crackling with electricity. “Is it my turn now?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, first of all, I don’t know who taught guys to do that alphabet thing with their tongue, but it kind of makes me feel like I’m Helen Keller being fucked by her teacher.”

“That’s not a fantasy of yours?” He faked shock, and you tried to cover up your laugh to keep the conversation as serious as you could, and he tried to still himself, nodding for you to continue.

“There was this one moment, during foreplay, where I was close to coming, and I’m pretty sure I subtly pointed it out. Do you remember what I said?”

“Uh, ‘I’m close to coming’?”

“Yes, that’s it!” He scowled falsely, unsure where you were going with this, and it was your turn to smirk a little. “Right after I said that, you totally switched up what you were doing. What was the thought process there? If you had me right there at third, home base in sight, why would you start running in a different direction?”

“Okay, got it. That’s actually helpful.”

“All my tips are helpful! Like, also, you waited for me to undress you. Which was awkward, and a little weird, don’t do that.” You were almost out of advice, pausing for a second to think. “When a girl helps out, that's a good thing! This is sex, not a competition, my ex was weird about that too, just embrace the team spirit, it makes it better for everyone.” He nodded, and you felt a little out of breath, but a weight lifted off your shoulders. “Oh! Yeah, you went too fast. I felt like I was being drilled for oil. Girls want fast, but also slow. Kinda’ felt like you were in a rush, had somewhere better to be.”

“Trust me, I didn’t.”

“Obviously.” You teased, and he grinned, taking in all the information you were giving him. “Lastly, I guess it’s just after. Like, as soon as we finished, you retreated to the other side of the bed like you’d planted a bomb down there. Stick around, hold a girl, count to ten or something. That one will get you a long way, trust me.”

“Cuddling. Noted.”

“Other than that, you were a perfectly adequate lover.” He gaped at you a little, and his whole body sagged.

“Adequate? What a way to boost a guy’s ego.”

“See, I knew this would happen, you’re-”

“Fine! I’m fine!” He reached out, placing a hand over one of yours, and squeezing comfortingly. “Seriously, now I know. I can make use of that advice next time.” He offered you a smile, and you tried to return it, nervous butterflies making you feel a little nauseous as you tried to settle yourself, no indication that he was angry or upset with you. “You said something about your ex in there, y’know. Is that why you broke up, crappy sex?”

You knew it was meant as a joke, something to lighten the mood, but your stomach dropped. “Uh, no.” You cleared your throat, hands pulling from his to clasp them in your lap as you looked away. “That would’ve been because I found him in our bed with one of my friends.”

The air went dead, silence encased you, and you heard the legs of his chair scrape on the floor as he pushed it back. Kneeling in front of you, he took your hands in his, forcing you to meet his eye. “I’m really sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up.”

“It’s okay. At least I know she isn't getting much.”

He chuckled, but it was dry and empty, and he reached up, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “For the record, I think he’s a dipshit. You’re an amazing girl, anybody who would cheat on you isn’t worth you.”

“Thanks, Joel.”

He stood up, pulling you with him, until you were standing up once again. “Go find another film. I’ll get us all sorted here. Anything you want, it’ll cheer you up.” You waited a moment longer, ready to do as he’d said, before a set of lips were brushing against your forehead, and your breath hitched in your throat. Pressing into the touch just a little, it was almost embarrassing how you reacted, how much you’d missed simple affections, how it felt to be excited around someone instead of just bored or dreading having to see them, the excitement of once again experiencing the thrill of something invigorating and new. “I’m honestly sorry for bringing it up.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Kinda’ is.” He mumbled, fingers playing with yours lightly where your hands were still hanging connected, and the whole experience was a little different. This wasn’t a near-miss kiss while high after the intimacy of drawing one another, nor was it holding hands in the rush to get to the laundry room while hopped up on adrenaline and a little embarrassment. “He’s a moron, and he didn’t deserve you. Neither did your friend, if she’d do something like that to you.”

“They deserve each other.”

“Atta’ girl.” He teased, squeezing your hand once more, before letting you go, and as you settled down onto the couch cushions, you had to try hard just to steady your racing heart as you scroll through movies on Netflix, perched happily along the couch, but it was a little chilly, the space heater was barely holding its own against the chill of the outside.

“You got any blankets?” You didn’t even bother turning your head as you shouted the words, still exploring the film choices, and this time, you went for something a little more exciting. A ‘Mission Impossible’ movie was always a hit, right? Everybody loves Tom Cruise.

“Yes, I do.” You jumped, never having heard him moving around, and he stood before you, a fluffy looking blanket bundled in his arms, and you made grabby-hands for it with a grin. He shook his head, slumping down beside you on the ouch, and you bounced a little with the movements he made. “What, you think I read your mind? This blanket is for me, but I might just share it with you.”

“Yeah, what’s the catch?”

“You have to smile, so I know you’re really okay.” You couldn’t help it, trying to bite back the grin on your face as you flushed with shy heat, and he whooped loudly upon seeing the expression. Spreading the blanket out across you both, his fingers brushed across your skin, tucking it around your thighs and over your waist as he and sure you were covered, before his arm was stretching out along the back of the couch behind you.

“You’re too smooth for your own good.”

“Don’t get used to it, I’m incredibly awkward and not nearly as brave, usually.” You rolled your eyes, nudging your shoulder against his but not bothering to say anything, and starting up the movie.

Tucking your legs underneath yourself, you adjusted the blanket, your feet cold as you lifted them up from the cooled flooring, and directing your attention over to your phone. It had been hours since you’d check it, since you'd even felt the need to know whether anyone else had been in touch with you, and even as that realisation came to mind, you still didn’t budge to collect it.

Earlier in the day, you had been bitter and wishing to be home, where you’d inevitably only be locked up tight in your own bedroom and watching movies to pass the time away, listening to Sophie and her boyfriend move around the apartment, trapped in permanently third-wheeling until the snow melted. Now, you were happy, knowing that you’d made a new friend, and that you were at least venturing back out into the world for the first time since having your heart broken.

A hand came down, fingers playing with the edges of your hair lightly, twirling a light strand between his fingers, and as you swept your gaze over the man a foot or so away from you on the couch, his eyes were still fixed on the screen of the television. His fingers brushed against your neck occasionally, and each time, you had to suppress the urge to shiver. It was an invitation, the changing for day to night once again shifting everything between you both, unspoken words to invite you closer, easy for you to choose to take, or not to take, and nothing would be said about it at all.

Your entire body ran over with goosebumps, and your fingers picked lightly at the blanket, unsure of which move you wanted to make. On the one hand, you could definitely take that step, move a little closer and risk falling into that again, or you could stay where you were, play it safe and not risk a thing. Fold your cards and wait for the next round.

“I’ll just be a minute, okay?”

You stood up, his hand falling away from yourself and the blanket laying down on the couch, and he nodded his head, a barely present smile on his face as he nodded his head, and you slipped away, giving yourself just a moment to think as you disappeared to the bathroom. Closing the door behind yourself, you leaned back against it, letting out a deep breath and trying to clear your mind, weighing the pros and cons of where this night might go.

Shaking yourself down a little, you felt the tension flee from your body, and you placed your hands onto the sink, staring at yourself in the mirror hanging over it. You were always playing it safe, always had, and maybe that’s why your ex had adventured and found excitement somewhere else, needing the thrill of it, because you never took risks.

If you hadn't taken a risk last night, you wouldn't be here now, and after all, you’d had a great day. Maybe it would blow up and backfire, maybe when the snow melted you’d never see him again, maybe it wouldn't work out, but you’d never know if you didn’t at least try.

“Oh, woman up. For once in your life.” You muttered, running the water and splashing a little of the cool liquid over your face, refreshing yourself with just how icy cold it was, a little hiss leaving you. Shaking your hands off and patting your face dry, you ran a hand through your hair, deciding you were ready. Uncapping the toothpaste, you took a small chunk from it on your finger, placing the blob onto your tongue and licking it around your mouth for freshness, doing the best you could to clean your teeth a little, before using your hands as a cup and rinsing with some water.

At least you felt a little fresher and more alluring now. A good confidence booster, because fuck it, you were all in.

Stepping back out into the main room, you undid the zipper on the hoodie of his that you’d borrowed, letting it hang open along the front, the thin satin of your camisole on display, the material falling away from one shoulder as it hung baggy on your body now that it was open. Upon your return, he turned to look at you, lips parting a little as his eyes flickered along your body, gaze lingering on the exposed skin of your shoulder, your arms, the midriff shown between the edge of your top and the hem of your leggings, before his jaw was snapping shut, and he met your eyes again, only for a split second, before looking back to the movie.

Lifting the edge of the blanket, you sat a little closer to him than you had been before, your arm brushing against his side as you got comfy, and you heard him let out a slightly shaky breath, fingers tapping against the back of the couch, behind where your head had once been, now further down the couch as you sat close enough to smell the lingering aftershave on his skin.

Five long minutes passed, and you almost thought you’d overstepped, that he didn’t want this as much as you thought he would, that the connection was one-sided, but then his hand slipped down, fingers brushing over the bare skin of your shoulder on the side where the jacket had dipped down, nails scraping slightly, before the rest of his arm followed. Slipping it around your shoulders, his hand hung over you, playing lightly with the spaghetti strap of your top, running along the silky material, under it, playing with it in slow and absentminded patterns, and you contained yourself from celebrating out loud, or doing something that wouldn't be considered as ‘playing it cool’.

You paused, giving it just enough time, the feeling of roughened fingertips rubbing along your skin, and after a moment, you realised it was being inched a little further over. As the strap fell away, falling over your arm again, his movements paused, everything going still for just a second, before his fingertips were pressing to bare skin again. Twisting towards him a little more, you pressed up to his side, lifting a leg until the lower half of your legs were tangled together as they sat ahead of you, propped up on the coffee table.

He hummed a little under his breath, your head adjusting to rest on his shoulder, and he dared to reach his fingers a little lower than just along your shoulder, brushing as far as the undersides of your collarbones, and you cuddled in a little closer to him still.

“I can’t stop thinking about what you said.” His words were gruff, voice low and gravelling as he kept his tone to just above a whisper, and you rolled your lips together for a second, trying to settle on your words.

“And what would that be?”

“Well, y’know, all the improvements I could make. I’ve been thinking about it.” You only hummed, fingers smoothing over his stomach and across towards his side until you were holding onto him, and the muscles underneath tensed and rippled under the soft cotton tee he was wearing. “But, I’d never really know if I was getting it right until I put it into practice.”

“Well, that does make sense.”

“Yeah, and I mean, I’d need someone who could tell me, give me real talk.” He was continuing on with the rouse, the playful energy between you both sparkling, and the movie was long-forgotten, simply becoming background noise.

“Makes sense. Someone to guide you as you go.”

“Exactly.” He mumbled, turning himself enough to drag the tip of his nose over your cheek, and you tipped your head back a little, making it easier for him as his lips brushed your cheek. “Know anyone up for the task?”

“I think I might know someone.” You whispered, hand coming up to lace into his hair, and he rumbled happily at the scrape of your nails over his scalp.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You promised, and he grinned, shifting enough to let his mouth slant across yours, a kiss that was more than overdue. Lifting a hand to sit on his jaw, he pressed into you a little further, one hand still behind the couch, while the other was sliding down to find your waist, the blanket falling away and the movie becoming nothing but background noise as his lips worked softly with your own.

You’d expected hot and sloppy, but he was taking it slower this time, sweet and passionate, not nearly as desperate as you’d been anticipating, and your heart was racing in your chest with the tenderness in which he kissed you. Once the blanket was kicked from your legs, his hand dipped a little lower, smoothing around your lower back, and pulling you in towards him until you could drape a leg over his thighs. Settling into his lap, both of hands were sitting low on your hips, teeth grazing along your lower lip as the what between you both seemed to double, and you pressed a little closer into him.

“Put your hands, just-” You took a hold of his wrists, lowering his hands a little, your forehead pressed to his as you pushed them around until he could hold fistfuls of your ass through your leggings, squeezing tightly, and you keened into his touch. Rocking your hips down into his own, you gasped, his grunt at the feeling being silenced as your lips closed back over his, and he hummed happily when your tongue dragged slowly against his.

For each rock you made down into him, his hips were jumping, small thrust upwards to meet you, and it became more frantic with every little movement. He was growing underneath you, the material of his sweats doing little to hide the hardening cock that seemed to twitch and jump each time you dragged your core along his length, even through the layers of material, and you could feel yourself growing wetter and weather, uncomfortably so the longer your went, but the pressure was perfect, an orgasm already beginning to grow within you.

When the burn for oxygen became too much, he pulled back, lips worked along your jaw slowly, soft sucks that weren’t hard enough to leave bruises but sent sparks of electricity and excitement flooding through you each time, nips at your skin as he worked his way down your neck, until he was biting teasingly at the shoulder with the strap of your top still hanging over your arm, bare skin exposed to him. “You know, not a criticism, just a compliment, but you really got kissing down to an art.”

He chuckled against your skin, a little breathless, but still enough to make you tremble at the feeling, before he was making his way back up to you, nose dragging over your skin until his mouth could brush against yours. “Is that so?”

“Totally.” You mumbled, your hand slipping into his hair to hold onto a fistful as his mouth crashed back into your own, and he put those skills to good use. He all but knocked the oxygen from your lungs with the intensity of it, leaving your head spinning and lungs burning but you were unable to pull away, the addictive way that his mouth worked with your own, so sensual and intimate that you were flaring up with heat, and you finally knew what it felt like when people said there were fireworks in a kiss, because you felt as though the fourth of July was exploding around you.

“Bedroom?”

“Absolutely.” You mumbled, having to tear yourself away from his kisses, diving back in a few times, before finally, you managed to pull yourself away. You took his hands in your own, pulling him up with you as the two of you moved, and his hands found your hips, guiding you in your backwards walking steps as he followed behind you; foreheads pressed together, occasionally pressing sweet kisses to one another, giggles shared into the air between you until you came to a stop in the doorway.

Turning around, you paused, more of a laugh erupting from you.

“First criticism, messy sheets is a turn off.” He sounded confused for a second, mouth leaving where he had been kissing along your neck, his head coming up to take a look, and he huffed a little.

“Right, yeah, forgot about that. Let me just-” He moved away, on side of the bed to straighten the blankets out, pushing the pillows back up to the top end of the bed, and you helped out, smoothing over them until the job was done haphazardly, but at least it least it was no longer messy, and he stood on the opposite side from you, hands on his hips for a second. “Better?”

“Much.” He nodded his head, licking over his lips, and taking the lower one prisoner as his gaze swept over you, His hair was a little messy, cheeks flushed and lips swollen, and you were certain that you looked exactly the same, the tension between the two of you sizzling. You couldn't handle it, the two of you meeting halfway as you knelt on the bed, his body colliding with yours and lips meeting in frenzied kisses as you connected again.

He reached a hand behind his head, tugging his shirt up and away from his body, a delicious display of flexing muscles and veiny forearms as he discarded of it, shaking the hair that flopped down into his face free.

“That was hot.”

“All I did was take off my shirt?” He whispered, pulling back when you tried to kiss him so that he could raise his brows in silent questioning.

“We like that. When you do that whole ‘taking your shirt off with one hand behind your head’ thing. Plus, you just looked good while doing it.” He looked down at himself, before back up to you, hands cupping your face to bring you in closer to him, and he pressed a series of pecks to your lips, until you were laughing lightly and pushing him back with hands spread over his chest.

He followed you as you stood, and you undid the rest of the zip on the hoodie, letting it fall open, and down your arms slowly, and he watched it go, until the material was crumpled in a pile around your feet. Placing your hands on his chest, you pushed him backwards, until his knees were buckling against the mattress and he was sitting down, staring up at you with wide eyes and parted lips, waiting for your next move. With a finger under his chin, you tipped his face upwards, enough to be able to peck his lips, before you were stepping away from him.

Turning away, you heard him shuffling, the ruffling of material and the slight creaking of the bed, before it was silent, and you took a steadying breath. Crossing your arms over your middle, you tugged the satin top up slowly, brushing your own fingers over your skin, and you heard him groan behind you as it hit the floor, hair falling back down your back upon being freed from the material. Hooking your fingers into the edge of your leggings, you peeled them down your legs, bending at the waist, and removing them from your feet, slowly, before turning back to face him, clad only in your panties.

His eyes were half-lidded, and jaw hanging slack, only clad in his boxers now, but he was palming himself through the material as he sat propped up in the pillows, and you rounded to his side of the bed, one of his hands reaching out for you, and you took it, a gentle hold as his fingers weaved with yours.

“How was that?”

“So fucking hot.” He mumbled, the hand that he had been using to rub at his hard cock through his boxers came free, a wet patch left across the front of the pale checkered fabric, precum soaking into them and your thighs clenched at the idea of having that effect on him. Running the tip of one finger under the waistband of your panties, he tugged you a little closer to him still, before snapping the elastic against your skin. “What about these?”

“Figured you might want to do that.”

Your eyes dropped to his mouth, before meeting his gaze again, only a split second slip, but he was smirking, clearly having seen it. Before you could even process what he was doing, his arms had wrapped around your middle, twisting you around and lifting you to lay in the bed beside where he had been, your head in the pillows and his arms holding him up on either side of you, and you panted a little, the yelp that had left you making you breathless.

“Holy shit.”

“Couldn’t help it. You say dirty things and it makes me feel a little wild.” His legs were caging you in, moving lower and lower as he kissed his way over your collarbones, lips and tongue leaving wet trails between your breasts as he lowered himself further and further.

“Wild is good. I like wild.”

“Hm, I hope so.” He whispered the words, tongue grazing along the sensitive skin above your panties, before he was tapping at your hips with his fingers, and you were lifting them for him to shimmy your panties down. Once you were bare before him, you grew a little shy once again, legs snapping shut, and he chuckled, a hand landing on each knee, and he pressed kisses along the tops of your thighs. “Please don’t be shy, gorgeous. You’re so damn beautiful, you have nothing to be shy about.”

Squeezing his hands at your knees, you twitched a little, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to peer down at him, and he grinned, pressing a kiss to your stomach, before leaning up and pressing an equally quick but sweet kiss to your lips.

“Open up your pretty legs for me, yeah?”

You couldn't hold back, the way he was talking to you and touching you, loving caresses that soothed your nerves, and he groaned under his breath as your slick core was revealed to him. Legs bending at the knees, you planted your feet flat on the bedding, and he was able to settle on his stomach between them, hot breath fanning over your core.

His arms wrapped around your thighs, fingertips digging into them roughly, and he rubbed a hand up and down them slowly, the twitching in your gut coming to a still as he still managed to find time and sentience to ease your nerves as he pressed his mouth in sweet kisses along the insides of your thighs, biting a little at the top and chuckling as he felt you jerk in surprised shock. Lacing a hand into his hair just as his mouth moved to close over your core, you tugged lightly, his eyes flickering up to find yours. “What’s wrong, gorgeous? Did I mess something up?”

“No, no, you’re perfect.” Your words were panted out, and you were trembling while holding yourself up, but you shook your mind clear, trying to focus enough to break through the haze. “Just wanted to say thank you. You’re being such a sweetheart, I don’t think I’ve ever felt this confident before, so before my mind completely clears, I wanted to say that.”

He paused, a look flicking over his features to expose that he clearly didn’t expect that, and there was a much more adoring smile on his face as he processed your words. “It’s my pleasure, you’re worth it, and you deserve a guy to treat you like the special and incredible woman that you are.”

You choked a little on your breath, unsure of how to reply, so you swallowed the lump in your throat, nodding your head, before pushing his back down a little. “Okay, enough heart-to-heart crap. You can continue now.”

“As you wish, princess.”

He dragged his tongue once along your core slowly, and you took a sharp inhale of breath, the feeling of a hot and wet mouth working over you was something that you’d sorely missed, and while Joel had gone down on you yesterday too, this would be so much better and you already knew it. Instead of rushed and nervous, it was erotic and confident, sure in your movements, and sure that he could be the best you’d ever had, you could tell just from the way this night was going so far, that these memories would be burned in your mind for the rest of your life.

Rubbing a thumb over your clit, he chuckled at the way your thighs trembled slightly, before he was pulling away, diving in to replace his finger with his mouth. Lips sucking at the little bud, your fingers tightened in his hair, back arching at the feeling, and he licked over the bud, before repeating the process. Again, and again, and then, he was replacing his movements. Tongue flicking out, rapid kitten licks over the bud, and you squealed a little, thighs clamping around his head as you did, and you whined a little.

“Wait, Joel!” He paused after a moment, your entire body still tingling with the feeling of his mouth, but your legs loosened as he pulled them open, brows raising at you, and slick was already glistening on his chin. “Good, but can be better. Start slow, don’t go right in, tease me a little. Speed up when I’m closer, okay?”

“I thought girls hated being teased?”

“We can love it, if you do it right. You’ll know when to speed up, okay? Start slow, add a finger, then another, speed up when I’m getting close.” He nodded his head, a lopsided smile on his face, and he was taking your advice. He started slow, a long and torturous drag of his tongue over your core, and then again, before his tongue circled your entrance for a moment, barely dipping inside long enough to matter, but then he lapped at your core again. Lips sealing around your clit, he sucked harshly, your back arching up from the bed, your free hand finding purchase tangling in the bedding, and you moaned, loudly. “Fuck, yes, Joel. Just like that.”

He groaned into your body, the feeling reverberating along your skin, and one hand moved from your thigh, slipping along and disappearing from your skin until the tip of one nimble digit was circling your entrance, rubbing lightly across your weeping hole. Filthy sounds were already filling the room, and your mind was going completely blank, the only thing you could process right now was the movements of his mouth against you, tongue and lips working in tandem to drive you crazy as you bucked up into him, holding his face against your core as he slurped and sucked at every drop you had to release.

Slipping that finger into you, he had clearly taken our tip on teasing, because he only sunk it within you to the first knuckle, barely present at all, and yet your walls were clamping around him greedily, desperately trying to draw him deeper in as you felt him twist it a little, circling the finger and beginning to stretch you out, crooking it at the knuckle and tugging a little in your entrance as he began to pump it. A cry of his name left you as he bit down on your swollen clit lightly, the bud throbbing in response, and your entire body jumped at the sensation, loving the way he was taking control with it now.

Each time his finger dipped back into you, he sank a little further, his finger and tongue working in harmony, the same pace with their movements, and your entire body was layered in a thin sheen of shining sweat as he took you apart piece by piece. His hips were grinding down into the covers as he worked, the rustling of the covers giving it away, and he was grunting and growling against your every so often, his eyes closed as he enjoyed his motions just as much as you did, and you forced your hand free from him hair as you realised just how tight your fist had gotten. Just when you thought you might be getting used to this feeling, that you might be able to clear the fog in your mind enough to think straight, he sensed it, upping his ministrations.

“Fuck, Joel!” The coil in your stomach wound up ten times tighter in a matter of seconds as that dull tingling at your entrance made itself known, a second finger taking you by surprise as it plunged inside of you, and your back arched up so high your hips followed, borderline screaming as he picked up his pace. “I-I’m going to-”

“Come? Do it, come on, gorgeous. Give me all you got.” Faster movements, the tandem between his fingers and his mouth going to shit, as he continued to work his fingers in and out of you slowly, but his tongue was picking up his pace again. Switching between sucking and licking, you could barely process what was happening each time, and tears lined your eyes as you felt fire beginning to consume you.

Heat flooded your body, bliss filling every cell in your body and coursing through you until it was all-consuming, and you unravelled against him in a fit of squirming screams, his hands holding you to his mouth as he rode you through the pleasure, two fingers stretching you wide and scissoring you open each time, never giving up on his movements until you couldn't take it anymore.

You pushed him away, panting and gasping for breath, and his eyes were blown with lust as he pulled away, cheeks and chin shining with your arousal, your hand falling over your chest, feeling the erratic beating of your heart under your palm as your eyes closed, trying to contain the way you were feeling. Your throat was already scratchy, growing rough from the calls and cries of his name that you’d released.

“Good?”

“Is that even a question?” You teased, and he collapsed down into the bed beside you, wiping the back of his hand over his jaw, before you leaned in to kiss him, taking his lips with your own, and he let out a needy sound into your mouth as you did. He was rubbing at his jaw, pressing his lips lazily with your own as you kissed him, and he pressed you back down into the bed, leaning over you and letting his body press into yours.

One hand moved to his boxers, pushing them down, kicking them away until they were removed from his body. Leaning over you, a dripping cock brushed along your thigh, your leg raising up a little to rub against him, and he grunted into your mouth, biting down on your lower lip in warning, as he rooted through the nightstand to find a condom. Upon retrieving the package, he sat back on his heels, tearing it with his teeth and throwing the wrapper to the ground, a problem to be dealt with later, and he rolled the rubber along his length.

Long and flushed red, his cock was standing tall and proud, and you rubbed your thighs together a little, watching as he pumped himself slowly, eyes dragging over your body. You could see the cogs working in his mind, before he backed away from you entirely. Moving to the switch on the wall, he turned down the lights, leaving them on a little, but lowering them to a more comfortable level.

“Compromise?”

“I can work with that.” You offered, holding your hands out to him, and the bed bounced a little as he came to laying over the top of you. One leg was pressed between yours, and you shuffled, pressing yourself down against the muscle of his thigh, and a deep sound bubbled up from within him as you rode yourself against his thigh, kissing along his neck, and his head tipped back.

“For the record, I like hickies.”

You paused, a beat passing, before your mouth was sealing over the patch where his neck joined his shoulders, and he groaned loudly as you sucked at the skin harshly. Tipping his head back, his arms trembled a little dipping down until your chests were pressed together, and with every rolled of your core against his leg, your chest dragged over his, the friction making your nipples grown perky, and you whimpered into his neck, lapping at the spot you were abusing.

When you were finished, you pressed a sweet kiss over it, purple already beginning to blossom beneath the splotchy red on his pale skin, and he let out a shaky breath. Brushing your thumb over it, you smirked at the mark you’d made, before finally looking back up to him. Reaching a hand between your bodies, you took his cock in your hand, pumping slowly and watching as his jaw dropped slightly, before you were shifting your legs to accommodate his body and lining his length up at your core.

He rocked forwards, sinking into you slowly, and just like that, everything went fuzzy around you once again. It was like he was your only focus, everything was falling away until it was only him that remained, and your hands found his cheeks, pulling him down to kiss you. You were drowning in his touch, his hips nestled against your own as he gave you a moment to adjust to his size with you, that same twinge of an ache you’d felt this morning coming back in full force, but overpowered by the racing lust that was taking over.

When you felt ready, you clenched around him, curling your hips and feeling his cock shift within you, a gasp falling from you as the head of his cock brushed over your g-spot, and he took that chance to slip his tongue into your mouth. Hot and wet, everything felt like it was in overdrive as you lit up, and his hands were pressed into the mattress on either side of your head as he began to shift, hips drawing out of you, before sinking back in, and he took his time, moving slowly and waiting for you to tell him when he could speed up.

Lifting a leg up and onto his hip, he sank even deeper within you, your walls fluttering around him as you let out joint sounds of pure ecstasy, and his movements stuttered for only a moment at the feeling. One hand came down, fingertips digging into the muscle of your thighs so tightly that you’d be speckled with little polka dot bruises come morning, a sinful thought that made you head spin. You felt carefree, for the first time in your life, there was no doubts or anxiety, just the way it felt to be touched and cared for by him, the way his gaze swept so delicately over your face, or the way his lips puckered a little, curling up at the sides in a smile when your mouth pressed to his.

Hooking your hands under his arms, you encouraged him on, nails digging into his skin and dragging tracks into the flesh, his back arching up to push into your touch, and his pace began to pick up. He took his time, building the pace, and you’d never felt like this before. A high you’d never experienced was beginning to set in, your hips moving in time to match his thrusts.

He was panting into your mouth, hot and erotic as your foreheads remained pressed together, his lashes tickling against your cheeks, and every soft moan of your name that he let out made you want to scream out with pure bliss, because the way his voice cracked around your name made everything within you crumble. He made you weak, he made you completely fall apart, and you weren’t sure how or why, yet you found yourself loving it.

It was raw and exposed, your heart and soul open to him, and instead of crushing it like you’d grown to expect from everyone around you, he was taking care of it. You pushed up into him, pleasure surging through you, broken stutters of his name as he fucked into you, hard and fast, driving deep, and the tip of his cock was pressing to your g-spot each time, pinpoint accuracy as you weren't sure if he even knew that he was making stars flash behind your eyes.

“Joel, don’t stop! I’m so close!”

You moved, licking over two fingers, and making to slip them between your bodies to find your clit, to spur your orgasm on as best you could, but as you moved, he lifted a hand, snatching yours in his own and pinning it to the bed, and a loud moan rippled through you from the dominance he asserted. He seemed almost surprised, for only as second, before his brows were raising. “You liked that, huh? Shoulda’ told me.”

“That’s not general advice, you wanted general advice.”

He shook his head, leaning back down to brush the tip of his nose over your own. “Maybe I’d prefer it if you tailored the advice to yourself specifically. Tell me how to drive you wild.”

“Just keep doing what you’re doing, I like it when you take control of me a little bit.” He nodded his head, seeming to catch on, and he sat back leaving you laying in the bed as the angle changed. Two fingers prodded at your lips, and he raised his brows, waiting for you to draw them into your mouth, wetting the digits thoroughly for him. When he deemed them sufficiently slick, he pulled them back, trailing them down along your body, before pressing down roughly onto the neglected bud between your thighs, crying out for attention to push you over the edge.

As you tumbled into that bliss, he continued going, until your body was jerking and quivering underneath him, and you were crying out his name, clenching so hard around his cock that his head fell back as he gripped at your thigh with his other hand, kneeling between your parted legs and tucked snugly between your spasming walls. “Jeez, you’re so fucking tight.”

He collapsed down over you, sweaty and warm, covering your body with his entirety as he tried to catch his breath, and your eyes were still rolled back in your head, coming back to focus as you slipped back down to earth from the heaven he'd taken you to. “That was incredible.”

“You bet your cute little ass it was.”

You chuckled, feeling him shuffle, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. Locking your knees on either side of his hips, you flipped him over, his eyes wide as he found himself on his back, your hand finding his cock as you sank back down, shivering at the feeling as the aftermath of your last orgasm was still racing through you, and he let out a long and deep sound that vaguely resembled your name, hands finding your waist and pulling you the rest of the way down as he fucked up into you.

“You don’t have to, really-”

“You know, you’re pretty much the first guy I’ve ever been with who didn’t come first, and who genuinely cared about my pleasure.” Your nails scratched over his chest a little, making him shudder at your touch, before you were leaning down, hair drawing around you both, and he stared up at you in awe. “I want to make you feel good, too.”

He nodded, a hand tangling toughly in your hair, and he pulled you backwards, sitting up with you in his lap so that your legs could wrap around his waist more fully, your arms looping his neck, holding you as close as he possibly could. You whined at the feeling of your stinging scalp, loving the way he was manhandling you now, and he knew it too, his lips descending to your throat as he used his other hand to guide the movements of your hips.

“Tell me what to do, I don’t go on top a lot. Tell me what’s good, that’s what you’re supposed to do.” You were pleading with him, desperate to know how you could make him feel as good as you’d made him.

“What you’re doing right now is good.” He mumbled, but as you rolled your hips back down into his with what little space there was, his lips moving over your body until he could lean you back, taking a nipple between his lips and sucking one perky bud into his mouth. You cried out his name, his fist tangled into your hair to hold you still, and you tried to form thoughts, your first attempts at speaking coming out as broken stutters.

“Please, Joel..”

“Please what, gorgeous? Tell me what you need.” He cooed the words out, and you let out a desperate sound, your hips slamming down into his, and your hands found his chest, pushing him back into the bed, hearing the rush of breath he let out.

“Tell me what you want.”

He stared at you, blinking those beautiful brown eyes for a second, before giving in. “Honestly, I just want you to ride me like a pornstar. Go fucking wild, it’s so fucking sexy. When your tits bounce, and you slam yourself onto my cock, hair messy and a little sweaty, that's what I want.”

You nodded, swallowing thickly and bracing yourself on his chest, before you moved more solidly onto your knees, beginning to bounce against him. His jaw dropped, watching the movements of your chest, watching as you leaned back to show off the bouncing of your breasts before him as you built your confidence, and after getting past your anxieties, you were faced with the raging build of confidence that came with being on top.

He was staring at you like you’d put the lights in the sky, and you were, for once, glad that there were lights on to see him and for him to see you, to watch every movement you were making, because pure thrill was written on his face, adoration and lust as he stared, before you were taking one of his hands. Dragging it over your body, you sealed his fingers around one of your tits, pushing into his hands when he took control, fingers tweaking with your nipples, and he raised the other to do that same.

You were close, and you could tell he was too, the breathless way that he was beginning to chant your name on repeat, the way you were sure that the feeling of his cock tapping against every spot within you was going to be burned into your mind for the rest of your life, and the look on his face as he finally neared that peak.

“You look so fucking good. Taking what you want, riding me, absolutely perfect up there.”

“Only because that's how you want to see me, right now.” You whispered, and he shook his head, his hands finding your hips, waiting for you to lift yourself up, and as you did, he slammed you back down onto him, meeting you as he fucked up into you, and your body fell forwards in shock, barely catching yourself before your forehead hit his own, breath shared between you once again. His feet adjusted on the bed, bending at the knee to sit flat and he set a brutal pace, driving the both of you towards your final peak and he drilled into you.

Your eyes crossed, vision spotting, and a scream of his name was torn from you with force as you crashed into yet another earth-shattering orgasm at his touch, the sound of his cries of complete joy seeming muffled as he chased after you over the cliff, falling into orgasmic bliss. He rode the pair of you out, strained and weakening movements as your bodies trembled together, until finally, he stopped, completely sent off all energy, and you collapsed against his chest.

His heart was thudding against his chest under your cheek, your nails scratching lightly at the patch of dark hairs between lightly defined pecs, and he wrapped his arms around you. Rolling you to the side, he was reluctant to leave the bed, letting out a loud sound of distaste ta having to do so, but didn’t travel far, simply far enough to undo the rubber on his cock and tie it up, wrapping it in some tissues and dropping the crumpled heap into the bin.

When he came back over, he lay down beside you on his back, one hand under his head and the other stretched out towards you. As you lay on your stomach, shuffling closer to him, you lifted yourself onto your elbows, peering down at him with a small smile. “So, that was, like, the best sex ever. Right?”

You grinned, head ducking to hide the bashful expression you wore, but you were laughing nonetheless. “Ever.”

“I wish all girls were as cool as you. Like, sex would just be so much better if everyone just had that kind of communication, because, holy shit, that was mindblowing.” His hand came up beside his head, making an exploding noise as his fingers made the motion, as though his head really had exploded, and you grinned, feeling his fingers brush over your skin as he lowered it back down.

Quiet fell between you both, but it was comfortable, nice and easy-going, and you weren’t sure how to break the silence now, but neither was he, though it didn’t matter. When the temperatures that had risen in your body during your sinful act began to come back down, you found yourself cold once again, tucking yourself under the blankets and curling in a little closer to him, fingers brushing through his hair to distract yourself as he lay, staring up at you.

“Y’know, you said something, during it all..”

“You told me to give you advice! Don’t get pissy about it now.” Your joke was taken in good spirits, a loud laugh leaving him, and the burning gaze he’d mixed you with was broken for a few moments as his eyes closed to revel in his amusement, but when the laughter died down, he was looking at you again, with just as much intensity.

“Not that. You said you only thought you only looked good because I wanted you to look good.” His hand found your cheek, forcing you to find his gaze as he spoke. “That wasn’t true. You’re so fucking beautiful, and just because one dumbass broke your heart, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t think of yourself as not being worthy. It only leads to more heartbreak. Don’t let his stupid actions take away from your value.”

“You know, you’re real wise on all this stuff.” His thumb brushed over your lips, and you puckered your lips to press a kiss to the pad of the finger. “Who broke your heart, Joel?”

“What makes you think I’ve had my heart broken?”

“Takes one to know one.” You whispered, and he let out a little sigh, gaze trailing off to stare at the ceiling.

“Her name was Aimee. We were together in high-school. We got into different colleges, and I was so sure we could make a long-distance thing work.” You cringed a little, keeping it internal, already guessing where this was going, but letting him talk. “We did phone calls and video chats, and I went to see her so often, every chance I could, in first year. But then second year came, and everything got busy, and I didn’t get to see her as often as I would’ve liked. I was waiting for the summer break to go and see her. When I got there, things were different, she told me it had changed, that she’d fallen for someone else and just didn’t know how to tell me. She figured we’d just fizzle out, that we had been fading. We broke up officially, but, it didn’t hurt her as much as it hurt me.”

“I’m so sorry, Joel.”

“That’s alright.” He murmured, fingers tracing up and down your arm, and you settled into a comfortable quiet once again.

You were hesitant to admit it to yourself, but you were growing rather fond of the man, your hookup having become so much more. The snow, the cold weather, two broken hearts and a stupid hook up site, and suddenly, you’d found someone who had managed to change your life in a lot of little ways, all in just twenty-four hours.

You turned, finding the man already watching you, lips curled up in a sweet smile and eyes lazily drooped, simply watching you as the thoughts and feelings raced through your mind, and yet, under his gaze, they all seemed to go silent. The worries, the constant surge of ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes’ all faded away, and you reached out a finger, tapping at the tip of his nose.

His expression somehow managed to morph into something even sweeter, practically giving you a toothache as his nose scrunched up adorably, before he was folding both hands under his head, moving to tangle his legs with yours, and simply sighing a little.

Golden and low lighting made his features seemed a little sharper, shadows on his face highlighting his jaw, cheekbones standing prominent and hair darker, and you knew just how soft it was, strands pushed back out of his face by you. The dark mark on his neck was making itself known now, and you were sure your own body would soon be littered in them, and you would check them all out with pride in the morning.

You turned to look at him again, drawing yourself back out of the spiral in your mind you’d once again fallen victim to, and meeting his gaze with a heatless huff. “What are you staring at?”

“Just.. you.” His brows pulled together a little, eyes sweeping across your face again in a way that made you feel raw and on the edge of your emotions. He lifted a hand, pushing your hair away behind your ears, before settling a hand over your jaw, and stroking his thumb across your skin slowly and soothingly.

“Yeah, well, don’t.” You whispered, voice cracking, and your gaze left his, but his touch never fell away, even when you tried to duck your head. “Don’t look at me like that, not unless you plan to act on it.”

“Oh, I would love to act on it. When this snow melts, I’d like to act on it properly.”

“Like.. a date?” You questioned, eyes flicking up to his for only a moment, and he was beaming what you did, toothy smile showing off his joy for only you to see.

“Exactly like a date, if you’ll have me?”

“Depends.” You murmured, shuffling in closer to him for warmth. “Can I share the bed with you tonight, or are you kicking me back out to the couch?”

He wrapped you up in his arms, pulling you down into his chest as the pair of you laughed, cocooning yourselves in the blankets with a series of rolls and twists, until you pressed up tightly together and locked in such a way. “There, now you’re not going anywhere.” He dipped down, pressing a kiss to your lips, one that you were eager to reciprocate. “Me and the bed are all yours, gorgeous.”

“I like the sound of that.”

#joel dawson #joel dawson x reader #joel dawson x reader smut #joel dawson/reader #joel dawson/reader smut #joel dawson love and monsters #dylan obrien joel dawson #dylan obrien love and monsters #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien x reader smut #dylan obrien/reader smut #12 Days of AUmas

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everwitch-magiks · 3 years

Text

dance with somebody (ch. 16)

start from ch. 1 | back to ch. 15

When Dex steps into Chowder’s bedroom, his single knock on the open door no more than a nostalgic habit, these days, as opposed to a present requirement, he’s certainly not expecting to be faced with, well. With this.

“What’re you doing?”

Chowder looks up. He’s sitting cross-legged on the floor with a myriad of different colored post-it notes spread out around him. Dex crouches down, picking up a couple of the notes (yellow and pink, respectively) to skim through their contents. Louis, helped solve Halloween cupcake disaster, 2 points. Hops, volunteered to do dishes entire week, 6 points.

Dex raises both eyebrows towards Chowder. Chowder, meanwhile, is staring down at the colorful mess surrounding him with a decidedly troubled expression. He sighs.

“I’m figuring out my dibs.”

“With a points system?” Dex prompts. He’s not sure if he’s impressed or concerned. “Looks ambitious.”

“I just don’t want anyone to think that I’m being unfair,” Chowder explains glumly. He picks up a green post-it (Jader, gave up half his vanilla scone at breakfast, 1 point) and stares at it dejectedly. “Or that I don’t care about them. Oh no, what if I pick Jader, and then Joyo inevitably assumes that I hate him? I could never do that to Joyo."

“Dude,” Dex says. He’s trying very hard not to smile. “You don’t have to make a decision yet, you know? It’s not even Christmas.”

Chowder frowns.

“It's almost Christmas.”

“I suppose,” Dex agrees carefully. “Are you sure this isn’t just some big procrastination project? Got any big finals looming, hm?”

“Finals,” Chowder scoffs. “Are finals really more important than the precious feelings of our hardworking underclassmen?”

“Oh my God. What’s all this?”

Nursey strolls into the room without knocking. He places a kiss on top of Dex’s head and then plops himself down between Dex and Chowder, his hand lingering softly at Dex’s nape.

“Chowder is having a bit of a dibs crisis,” Dex fills him in.

“Oh, man. Hard same.” Nursey frowns. “I was dead set on giving mine to Ford. Of course Ollie and Wicks had to go and snag her, first.”

“She and Tango seem pretty happy up in the attic, though,” Dex points out. "And this way, you get to be hausmates with both of them this year."

“I suppose that's true," Nursey allows. Then he shrugs. "And I guess I’ve still got Louis. He’s let me borrow his good bluetooth speakers basically this whole semester, so. Might be an option."

“What?” Chowder exclaims. “No, wait, I might pick Louis. You two couldn't maybe give me some time to figure this out, before you stake your claims?"

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works, C,” Dex tells him gently.

“That’s definitely not how it works,” Nursey agrees, his grin playful yet his tone kind. “If there’s someone you have in mind, Chow, you should just go for it. You snooze, you lose."

Chowder whips his head around, aiming his wide, pleading eyes at Dex.

“You’re not considering Louis, too, are you?”

“Honestly? I wish I was considering anyone.” Dex sighs. “I would’ve gone with Whiskey, but obviously that’s out, and I feel like the Waffles have gotten this strange aversion to doing any of those dibs type favors for me since I became captain. I think they don’t want to act like they’re sucking up for the wrong reasons, or something.”

“Maybe give them some proper incentive?” Nursey suggests merrily. “If word got out that you’re, like, completely undecided about dibs, I’m sure both the Waffles and the Scones would be falling all over themselves to please you. Might be fun to watch.”

“Nah. I’ll figure it out eventually.” Dex shrugs. “Graduation is still really far away. I’m not gonna worry about it, yet.”

“It’s not that far away,” Chowder disagrees. He sounds serious. “Guys, it’s almost Christmas. That means we're graduating in less than six months.”

Dex very nearly flinches. Six months? How is that even possible?

“That can’t be right,” Nursey says slowly. His expression has turned uncharacteristically unchill. “Fuck. Why haven’t I applied to more grad programs, yet?”

“I need to start looking at job listings more seriously,” Chowder chimes in. He's looking down at his post-its with an expression that’s unusually difficult to read. “I guess I can't put it off forever."

“Hey,” Dex says. He’s trying his best to sound reasonable, despite his own inner turmoil. Suddenly, the feeling of Nursey’s hand that’s still resting at his nape seems more important than ever. “It’s not over yet. We’ve still got a whole semester.”

“Yeah,” Nursey says quickly. “Yeah, you’re right. And even after, it’s not like you guys are ever gonna be rid of me. Got your backs, remember?”

“That's true,” Chowder agrees quietly. He’s not smiling, Dex notes with no small amount of concern. Especially considering the fact that Chowder kind of hasn't smiled at all since the start of this conversation. His whole expression looks wrong, somehow, without that familiar spark of effortless joy. “It’s all happening so fast. I wish everything could slow down, just a bit.”

“We’re just gonna have to make every moment count,” Dex says firmly. Impulsively, he reaches for Chowder’s shoulder. “We’re here for you, man. You know that, right? We're always gonna look out for each other. Always."

“Of course. Yeah, of course.” Thankfully, that seems to do the trick – Chowders lips curl into a soft grin. "Ugh. I think I'm just gonna go through my notes for that UX design final one more time. Can't be more stressful than trying to choose a single Waffle for dibs."

"Or a Scone," Nursey reminds him brightly. "There's some good freshies, too, let's not forget."

"Says you, who's got your eye on Louis, too," Chowder points out with an amused roll of his eyes. "I may be panicking, Nurse, but I'm certainly not stupid."

"Ah, and here though myself completely subtle." Nursey grins. "Weren't you gonna study?"

"Actually, yes." Chowder gets to his feet, only to immediately pause. He narrows his eyes towards Nursey. "But if you lock down Louis while I'm stuck cramming user interface design techniques, you can expect some serious payback."

"Chill, man." Nursey's grin softens. "Look, I haven't actually decided on Louis yet, but if it would make you feel better we could have some sort of dibs treaty until the end of finals week. After that, it's anyone's game. Sounds good?"

"I suppose that’s fair." Chowder nods, and Dex is relieved to see the genuine smile he offers in return. "I think I left my books downstairs, so. See you guys later."

He pads out of his room, leaving Dex and Nursey alone in the sea of post-its.

Immediately, Nursey scoots a little closer to Dex.

"Just us, huh," he remarks, his tone a clear attempt at casual even though his smile indicates otherwise. "D'you wanna get lunch, or something?"

Dex hesitates.

"I've actually got some things I need to work on," he says carefully. "Could we maybe meet up later?"

"Sure. Of course." Nursey's response comes just a little bit too quickly. "That's chill, man. Whatever you need."

Dex studies his boyfriend's expression for a moment. It's been a concern of his, ever since he started setting aside time to work on his secret project, that Nursey might eventually start to realise there's something Dex isn't telling him. Dex has been monitoring carefully for any sign of doubt or confusion on Nursey's end, and this is the first time he thinks he's seeing exactly that in the subtle frown that's replaced Nursey's relaxed smile from a moment earlier. Obviously, it's the opposite of what Dex hopes to achieve with his secrecy.

Thankfully, the solution is very simple.

"Hey," Dex says quietly. "It's for you."

Nursey looks puzzled.

"I'm doing something for you," Dex clarifies. "That's why I've been a little busy, lately. It's going to be a surprise."

"Oh," Nursey says. He sounds surprised, already. "You're… Huh. What is it?"

Dex grins softly.

"A surprise. Duh."

Nursey raises a curious eyebrow.

"Don't I get a hint?"

"You really don't understand the concept of a surprise, do you?"

"Fine. Be that way." Nursey smiles a little excitedly, and Dex relaxes a bit. "I suppose I'll see you at dinner, then? The guys all want to go to Jerrys.”

"Actually, can we do dinner just you and me?" Dex asks quickly. "There's been so much team stuff, lately, and I've honestly kind of missed us. Tonight, I want to just... Order in. Preferably from someplace that makes a mean garlic bread. And after, we should put on Netflix and get in bed so I can cuddle you while you rant about the dubious plot changes in another one of those Austen adaptations."

Nursey blinks. For some reason, he's staring at Dex with a serious look in his eyes, one that's only vaguely familiar.

"What?" Dex asks, a little self-consciously. Was it something he said? “You like those period dramas. Don’t you?”

Nursey drops his gaze. He takes Dex's hands in his and holds them gently, almost like they're something delicate, like Dex is someone precious and worthy of protection.

"You're in love with me," he says quietly. "Aren't you?"

Oh, shit.

It's true, is the thing. And honestly, Nursey can’t have been unaware of it up until this moment. Really, he must have known. Dex might never have said it in so many words, and they’ve technically only dated for a few months, but it’s not like either of them are blind to the fact that they were dancing around this thing between them for several years, before. That goodnight kiss out on the porch at the very first kegster of the fall was never the beginning.

Dex briefly considers making some sort of joke to downplay this moment, if only to stop Nursey from being completely obnoxious about it in a minute or so. Except, the heavy look in Nursey’s eyes compels him to make a different choice.

"Yeah," Dex says, almost steadily. "I am in love with you. Quite hopelessly, actually."

Nursey’s breath hitches. He squeezes Dex hands tightly, and then he’s leaning over, capturing Dex’s lips in a fiercely desperate kiss that leaves Dex completely breathless. And if Dex didn’t feel it so completely, just then, in every achingly delicate touch of Nursey’s fingers against his cheek, his throat, all the way down his chest, he might’ve been a bit anxious about the fact that, technically, Nursey didn’t actually say it back.

As it is, Dex isn’t worried. If anything, he’s amused.

“You’re welcome,” he chirps gently after they break apart. “I guess I should be thankful you didn’t just tell me to chill, or whatever.”

“Fuck you, man,” Nursey breathes out, his voice breaking in a way Dex didn’t expect at all. “Also, just, shut up, okay? You already know that I’m writing literal fucking poetry about you, about your freckles and your eyes and your hips and your smile and your stupid fucking lips, okay. I’d like to think you’ve been able to safely assume that I’m more than casually into you.”

“I’d like to think that’s the impression I’ve given you, too,” Dex says slowly. He feels a little confused. Suddenly, he’s tempted to drag Nursey across campus to the wood workshop and just show him, right now, to expose everything that he’s dreaming and hoping and wishing. “Nursey. Hey, Nurse. Look at me.”

“No, you’re right.” Nursey takes a breath. He meets Dex’s eyes with a watery smile. “I don’t know, man. It just hits differently, when you say it out loud. Feels more real. It’s like you spoke it into existence.”

“Maybe something for your next poem,” Dex teases gently. This moment feels too fragile, somehow. He racks his brain for some way to break the tension. “Did you ever read me the one about my hips?”

“Um.” Quickly, Nursey looks away, his smile suddenly more of a bashful grin. Bingo. “Did I mention that one, just now?”

“You did.” Dex grins, too, taking in Nursey’s clearly flustered expression with interest. Oh, this is gonna be good. “Tonight, okay? Read it to me, tonight.”

“I don’t… It’s not my most coherent work, probably.” Nursey clears his throat, and Dex grins a little wider. It’s not often that he manages to make Nursey this unsettled. “I mean, I’ll see if I can find it.”

“Suppose I’ll just have to inspire a new one, if you don’t,” Dex suggests slyly.

“Actually,” Nursey breathes out, already moving to climb into Dex’s lap. “That sounds-”

“Oh my God!” Chowder exclaims from the still open door. “We’ve been over this! You both have your own rooms, okay, you’ve literally got zero excuses for getting your freak on right in the middle of-”

Dex presses his lips briefly against Nursey’s before scrambling to his feet, quickly slipping past Chow into the hallway.

“Sorry, Chowder!” he calls out over his shoulder as he takes the stairs two steps at a time. “Love you, Nurse! Bye!”

“That’s a fine, isn’t it?” Pips calls from the living room as Dex practically sprints past. “Hey, wait! Major fine! Pay the fuck up!”

Dex let’s the door to the Haus fall shut behind him. As he makes the now familiar trek across campus, he doesn’t stop smiling for a single moment.

ch. 17

#check please #omgcheckplease #omgcp #will poindexter #chris chow #derek nurse #nurseydex #dexnursey #dibs #friendship #romance #chirping as flirting #dance with somebody #evie writes #fanfiction

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monstersandmaw · 5 years

Text

Male merman x male reader (nsfw) - Mermay Story #2

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Well, plot happened amid my planned porn. Oh well! Here's 7692 words for you! It’s been up on Patreon on early release. My lovely patrons have just been told who’s up next, so if you want to know, and more importantly be involved in the next poll and get your sticker and reward when I hit 100 patrons, head on over to Patreon and sign up!

Anyway, here's Connor. Light warnings for alcohol and the after-effects of a painful breakup. And... uh... two tentacle cocks. *shrugs*

___

Boxes.

Dozens of badly packed, disorganised, straining-at-the-seams cardboard boxes filled your new small seaside cottage, some marked, others not, all hastily packed, and the thought of dealing with them at the tail end of a long day was just… overwhelming.

In a desperate attempt to delay the inevitable, you simply shut the front door behind you, with its cheery red paint peeling slightly under the influence of many a winter storm, and set off down the quayside with the only thing you’d not even packed away for the move: your camera.

It was your faithful workhorse, a chunky, veritable beast, and it earned you your living, so there was no way you’d risk packing it away in anything other than its soft, protective case for the move. It had sat beside you in the van as you’d driven it down the winding, cobbled streets of the old town of Starfall Springs, heading for your new home. And now as you set out into the spring evening, the pavements gleaming in the wake of a sudden shower, it hung around your neck, the familiar weight a comfort in the constant flux and chaos of moving house.

Seagulls whirled and wheeled overheard in crazy, lazy circles, and the constant lap and slap of the sea against the harbour wall and the hulls of the little pleasure and fishing crafts moored in the weedy harbour formed a constant backdrop to your evening walk.

Groups of locals gathered at the edge of the town to watch the sunset and stretch their legs after work or before dinner.

A minotaur’s hearty laugh made you look round, and you saw a blue roan centaur talking with the tiniest goblin you’d ever seen. She was barely three feet tall, and was standing on a bench to talk to the centaur, but she had him laughing and tossing his head with a very equine delight all the same.

A couple of gnoll cubs scrapped and snarled on the playground just set back from the harbour road, and a shy looking werewolf cub looked on in awe and longing.

You documented the light and the angles, but it was the stack of lobster pots, with their woven, birdcage appearance, that snagged your eye and drew you away from the more obvious spots towards the quieter shadows of the harbour.

Raising your camera to your eye, you tweaked the shutter speed as the light changed, and adjusted the focus with a subtle twist of your wrist.

Behind the network of the crisscrossing lines of the lobster and crab pots, the surface of the sea formed a calm, beaten bronze backdrop, gilded by the sinking sun, the tiny waves like hammer marks in a sheet of polished metal. You lost yourself for a moment, just staring out at it with boats bobbing and the waves nudging against the slimy stone of the harbour wall.

Breaking that magical surface, a figure appeared in the water for a moment, and you adjusted the focus instinctively, framing them as they breached the surface. The figure was one of the merfolk who lived in the area, and you almost regretted taking the photo without their knowledge. This was not a wildlife shoot after all, and despite the lithe, muscular tail, they were no mere fish. You’d worked with a rough and tumble tiger shark mer out on a shoot in the tropics the previous year, but aside from her, you’d had little contact with them. And every shoal and pod was different, especially in their attitudes towards humans. Some were chilled and helpful towards humans, while others were shy and reclusive, and there were those that were even predatory.

You assumed that here in Starfall Bay, the merfolk would be at least tolerant of humans. How tolerant of paparazzi humans they would be was a different matter, and you lowered your camera.

This mer was clearly enjoying the evening sun as much as the landfolk who strolled along the promenade. They rolled onto their back and you saw a long, lean, grey-blue tail rising up to balance them and hold them at the surface as they spread their arms and floated there like a snoozing sea otter; except this ‘sea otter’ had the lower half of a creature as lean and streamlined as a shark, or perhaps a marlin. This was a predator.

Your feet took you, almost without your realising it, towards the end of the harbour wall, and as you neared the final few yards of the curving stone cob, you felt a wild and bold urge sweep through you. You sat down on a rusty old cleat and dangled your feet off the edge, well clear of the waves, but it was obvious that you were watching the mer.

After no more than a minute, they saw you. Long black hair trailed in the water, and sharp, wet cheekbones glimmered in the sinking sun. A lopsided grin flashed, and they flipped over and swam a little closer. “Enjoying the show?” came the question in a husky, rich tenor voice.

“I didn’t mean to stare,” you said.

“Sure. Not been this close to a mer before?” he said playfully, and in a flash of his powerful tail, he was mere metres from your dangling feet. If he’d wanted to, he could have darted up and yanked you into the water. The thought gave you a strange thrill. Instead, he floated there and looked up at you with dark eyes glittering.

“Just once,” you said carefully.

He raised a sculpted eyebrow at you. Gods, but he was handsome. He had one of those faces that could have been painted by an Old Master and hung in a gallery somewhere; all sharp angles that caught the light perfectly, and framed by a curtain of shoulder-length black hair. You’d have loved to have taken his photo in that moment, with the light playing so beautifully on his features. He had a row of pointed teeth too, like a shark. He tilted his head. “Oh?”

“She was a tiger shark mer,” you said, without elaborating further. Let him infer what he chose from that.

The mer grinned broadly, showing off all those pretty white teeth. “You like us dangerous I see…”

You snickered at that and leaned back on your hands, your camera resting on your chest. “She was helping me with a job.”

The mer turned from playful to curious in a heartbeat. “What kind of job?”

You waggled your DSLR at him. “Photography. We were trying to film green sea turtles for a program on endangered species, and she was one of the mer who guarded the reserve where they’re being protected.”

“Sweet,” he said. “Nice to see our two species actually working together for a change.” A tinge of bitterness crept into his voice, but you let it slide.

“I know. We both had a blast doing it.”

He grinned and then the smile slipped from his face and he turned away, webbed hands waving slightly in the clear water of the harbour to keep himself above water.

“You… ok?” you asked hesitatingly.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Fuck.”

You waited, hoping he’d elaborate. All the fun seemed to have gone out of him, like the sparkle of a bubble suddenly pricked and burst. He sighed and his shoulders drooped. He dipped beneath the surface and raked his clawed fingers through his long hair, scraping it back off his handsome face.

“What are you doing here in Starfall Springs?” he asked after a moment. “No endangered species here. Unless you’re documenting humans, that is…” he added with a wry smile. “Not too many of those here…”

“I actually just moved here,” you said gently, hoping that whatever it was that had darkened his mood would pass as swiftly as a scudding cloud.

He turned and looked directly at you. “Really?” he said. “Why did you settle on this place?”

You shrugged. “The lady I’m renting from had really good rates, and I want to expand my personal portfolio,” you said, camera in hand. “The landscape round here is amazing, particularly the coast.”

He smiled. “It’s gorgeous,” he agreed. “If you head slightly north there’s this huge sandy bay with enormous rock arches, and sometimes you can find fossils in the cliffs.”

“Sounds great,” you said, eyes going wide.

He paused. “I could show you if you like?” he said after a moment.

Your brows knitted. “You serious?”

He grinned. “Sure, why not?”

“I mean… you don’t exactly know me…?”

Again, the mer shrugged, a twinkle coming back to his eyes that made you lick your lips subconsciously. “So?” he said. “You free tomorrow?”

“Hell yeah,” you said. “Anything to put off unpacking all the boxes from the move…”

He laughed, a sound like sunlight on still water, and you found yourself beaming back at him.

“Ok, meet me tomorrow at 10am on the old bridge into town.”

“Wait, what?”

He simply grinned and disappeared with a flick of his tail, leaving you with about a million questions and no one to ask.

The next morning you made your way through the winding old streets of Starfall Springs and hurried towards the old bridge. You were wearing your usual ‘photography-ramble’ clothing - namely a nondescript and slightly nerdy t-shirt, and scruffy jeans - and the day was fast warming up. The bridge was empty when you arrived, but you checked the time and realised you were fifteen minutes early anyway.

You leaned your body against the ancient stones of the wall and peered over the edge. The water rushed down, clear and quick, from the eponymous springs above the town, and swept away into the harbour and out to sea. The way the water weed danced in the current was mesmeric, and, yes, incorrigible as ever, you whipped your camera out for a closeup of the textures and play of light on the water. It rippled, and yet was smooth as blown glass, and it caught your attention so fully that you almost didn’t notice the person approaching you until he came to a halt right beside you and leaned his backside against the wall and laughed, folding his arms across his slender chest.

You jumped, almost dropping your camera in surprise, though luckily the neck-strap earned its keep and saved the camera from a plummet to a soggy doom below (and not for the first time). You turned and had been about to scowl disapprovingly at the young man, both for invading your personal space quite so closely, and for interrupting you mid-photo, but the words died on your tongue when you recognised the handsome figure a second later. You knew your jaw was hanging open in shock, but you couldn’t wipe the stupid expression from your face.

The mer - who now had legs and clothes - simply tipped his head back, his long, blue-black hair tied in a low, scruffy bun at the nape of his neck, and laughed. “Oh man,” he said, eyes watering. “You should see your face.”

“But… how?” you faltered.

“Brackish mer,” he said. “We can shift at will. Though I still find these fuckers… weird,” he said, slapping one lean, skinny, denim-clad thigh with the palm of his hand. He wore a plain grey t-shirt and nondescript, slightly baggy jeans which rode invitingly low on his narrow hips. Your mouth went dry and you looked away.

“Well, that’s… unexpected,” you finally said.

“I’m Connor, by the way,” he said, holding out his hand to you. His fingers bore traces of webbing between them, stretching between the first knuckles of his fingers. Another reminder that although he walked on human legs, he was not, in fact, the same species. Your eyes darted to his neck and, sure enough, you saw three faint, almost scar-like, lines where his gills should be. Or perhaps they were still there but had closed over for his time on land. Merfolk anatomy was still very much a mystery to you.

You shook his hand as you introduced yourself by name, and felt how cool his skin was against yours. His grip was strong, his hands hard and smoothly callused. You wondered fleetingly what they’d feel like on your body. Fuck. Not helping.

Even in this new human form, he still had his row of pointed, predatory teeth, of which you were granted a beautiful view when he hitched his lips up into a lopsided grin and said, “Ready?”

You nodded mutely and allowed him to lead you through the town towards the northern side. A wide road led out of Starfall Springs, and Connor talked a mile a minute about everything as you passed it. He pointed out the marketplace on your left, and added, “I sell my catches there on Fridays.”

“You mean… you’re…”

“A fisherman,” he said. “Yes. There’s literally nothing, save for maybe another marlin mer, that can out-swim me. Even the tuna. I work with a team of open-water fishermen. We catch tuna and other fish and bring ‘em to market once a week. Sometimes we’re out for longer though.”

“How long?”

He shrugged. “Maybe a month or even six weeks sometimes? Depends on what we want to catch.”

“Do many of your kind do that sort of work? Are the rest of your crew merfolk?”

Connor shook his head. “Nah. It’s just me with the fish-tail on the team. And… most of my folks just keep to themselves, you know? They don’t get why I like humans and landfolk so much, and even though they can shift, they don’t.”

You tilted your head and snatched a sidelong look at him as you walked. He was lean and clearly very fit, with no sign of being puffed or overly warm despite the growing heat of the summer day. You on the other hand were getting distinctly warm under the collar, though you weren’t sure if it was the sun or the presence of the gorgeous merman walking beside you that was causing the reaction. You had your suspicions, though you kept those firmly to yourself.

Connor caught the look you gave him and tossed you another carefree grin. “Not quite sure what you’re thinking, but I’ll take a wild guess. Not all merfolk can shift, you know? And not many can shift the way we do. The more we do it, the easier it gets. Though it still hurts like a bitch.”

“What’s so fascinating about us? I mean, why do you do it?” you asked. As you did so, you caught sight of a butterfly sunning itself on an old, stone mile-marker and paused to focus your camera on it. The two of you had come to the edge of the town now, and the rolling countryside slid away from you in a series of gentle, undulating slopes adorned with orchards and vineyards to the north west, and the coastal road slid away to the north east.

All the while you snuck closer to the butterfly, Connor stayed silent and still on the road behind you, and when you’d got so close you could see the feather-like mosaic of colours on the butterfly’s wings through the view-finder, you snapped some shots, checked them reflexively, and then pulled back and blushed slightly to find him staring at you.

“What?” you challenged gently.

Connor only grinned and said, “Nothing. I just… wouldn’t have noticed that. You’ve got a quick eye, you know?”

You answered his gesture with one of your own. “Comes with the career, I guess.”

He led you off down a rugged footpath, having left your question about the fascination of landfolk unanswered, and as you passed by a battered-looking hut on your right, nestled among tall, flowering grasses dotted here and there with poppies, he said, “A friend of mine lives there. He’s a mer too, but he actually spends most of his time on land. Fuck though, you should see him as a mer. He’s got this big orca tail and these gorgeous markings…” he sighed.

“Sounds like you’ve got a crush,” you blurted.

Connor barked a laugh. ��I did,” he admitted. “As a teenager, I crushed so hard on him that I forgot how to swim once and crashed straight into a wreck. He never let me live it down. We actually dated for a while when we were a bit older. Didn’t work out, but we’re still close.”

“That’s nice,” you mused, staring at the ramshackle cottage covered in honeysuckle and creeping ivy. “My exes don’t tend to want anything to do with me.”

“Is that a human women thing, or…?”

“Men,” you said absently, raising your camera to your eye to snap a quick shot of a passing seagull soaring just off the high cliffs below you.

“Oh,” he said, and when you looked back at him, he was staring at his shoes.

You smiled a soft, wonky smile, and continued in silence for a little bit, until the cove below opened up fully before you, and you gasped. “That’s gorgeous,” you breathed.

“Isn’t it?” He raised his hand, his bare, slender arms muscular and so inviting, and pointed at the rock arch at the end of the sweeping, sandy bay. “There are often fossils in that bit. You want to go take a closer look? See what we can find?”

His playful attitude was infectious, and the two of you were soon scrambling down the sandy, scree-slope path to the beach. At one point your soles slipped on the gravelly surface and you sat down hard on your backside with a grunt. Connor, three paces ahead of you on the narrow path, turned abruptly and snorted at the sight of you. “You alright?” he asked. When you nodded, a bit winded, he held out his hand again, and you accepted it without question and let him yank you back onto your feet.

The tide was creeping slowly out, leaving a swathe of dark, hard, wet sand behind, and the beach was littered with little shells and other gifts that the retreating water had left behind. Connor drifted away towards the waves and began to toss bits of debris at passing gulls, never close enough to hit, but accurately enough to make them wheel away, shrieking indignantly, which only made the mer laugh and yell at them.

In the short few hours you’d been with him, you’d come to love that laugh. His voice was husky and rough, like the rasp of dune marram grass disturbed by the wind, and his dark hair glimmered with a hint of blue in the strong sunlight. But there was something else to him that spoke of hidden currents beneath the surface. In moments when he thought you were otherwise occupied, the laughter died in him and a hollow sadness crept in at the edges.

It felt as though he were trying to forget something, trying to put something behind him, and he was focusing on you as an excuse to do it.

You barely knew him, so you didn’t press, but as you neared the cliffs and he wandered over to them, running his fingertips over the jagged, crumbling surfaces of the sandstone, you watched him more closely. He walked recklessly close to the base of the cliffs, picking at flaky portions of the rock until a rain of bits and dust scattered to the sandy beach at his feet.

“Connor?” you asked after watching him for a while.

“Mm?” The mer did not look up.

“What are you doing?”

He paused but still didn’t turn round. “Looking for fossils. Sometimes you can find ammonites and belemnites and…” he trailed off when he turned and saw the look on your face.

You shook your head. “I mean… why are you doing this with me? You saw some human taking photos at the harbour yesterday, and the next thing you’re volunteering to take me fossil hunting along the coast.”

“Can’t I want to do something nice for a handsome stranger?” he asked, a slight bite to his playful tone.

You simply looked at him flatly. “Sure you can,” you said. “But…”

“Forget it,” he said, shaking his head. Sections of his dark hair had come loose in the stiff breeze, and they whipped across his pale face and into his dark eyes.

You nodded. “Sorry I pushed,” you muttered, turning away and walking along the cliffs for a bit, hoping that a moment of privacy would give him a chance to recover.

The mood was different after that. The wind seemed to have a chill to it that you’d not noticed earlier, the calls of the seabirds almost mocking now, and as Connor slouched along the wet sand, he scuffed his heels and kept his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“I’m hungry,” he said after perhaps half an hour of walking along the beach. “You want to head back to town?”

“Sure.”

The house martins’ high, trilling calls filled the air above as they darted in and out of their nests in the eaves of the old buildings with their terracotta roves and sandstone walls. You watched them and tried to snap some shots of them with your long lens. Connor watched you curiously and when you turned back to him he smiled softly, some of the warmth returning to his face. His skin was pale and smooth as porcelain, save for a few scars here and there, his cheekbones high and sharp, and his lips… there was something inviting about his soft lips. They curled slightly at the corners, making you think of stolen kisses and secret smiles.

He walked with you back to your house in near silence, but when you asked him inside, he shook his head. “Nah, I should to get back to the sea. Too much time on land isn’t good for me. Not just… physically…”

“Right. Well, thanks for today… for showing me around a bit. I had fun.”

Connor shrugged one shoulder, hands still in his pockets. “Figured it’d be a nice thing to do, you know? Since you don’t know anyone here yet.”

“I appreciate it. Let me know if you want to meet up again some time…”

A little light kindled in his dark eyes and he flashed you a sharp-toothed grin. “Alright,” he said. “I will. And I look forward to seeing your photographs in the gallery sometime soon…”

You answered him with a shy smile of your own and watched him walk away down the narrow, cobbled street, his hands in his pockets, his head bowed and his gaze fixed on the road directly in front of him.

After a day which had turned out in an entirely different way from the one you had imagined for yourself when you’d woken up, you settled down later that evening, having edited all your photos of the trip, and sank onto the old, squashy, comfy sofa, and sighed. There were still boxes everywhere, but now, with at least a fleeting connection made, you felt more tethered to the place. The task of unpacking didn’t seem so daunting, somehow. It seemed… worth it.

A bashing at your door just after ten o’clock frightened the living daylights out of you.

You stood and cautiously went to the front door, heart hammering in your chest, almost louder than the pounding on the wood. No one here knew you yet, and there was no call for anyone to be thudding away at the little red door at this time of night, surely?

Peeking through the tiny, warped glass window, you saw a pale face and frowned. It looked like Connor, but he’d said he was going back to the sea.

You opened it and found him listing heavily to one side, like a ship floundering on a reef, leaning all his weight against the thick wall of your cottage, his hair hanging loose into his face. “Shit,” he said when he saw your eyes wide with surprise. “Shit, I shouldn’t… Fuck.”

His words were thick and slurred, and you could smell the alcohol on his breath. “Connor? What happened?”

“So… I didn’t go back after all,” he said, swaying again and staggering as his body tried to adjust and correct. “Fuck.”

“Here,” you said, stepping forward and scooping your arm under his to help him inside. “Sit down before you fall down.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you chuckled. You’d dealt with drunk friends before, and manoeuvred him easily enough onto the sofa you’d just vacated.

“Walking is fucking hard,” he commented when you were halfway there. “I mean… I can just about manage at the best of times, but fuck me… I mean, you don’t have to do that. That’s not why I came here. You are gorgeous though. But… ah… fuck.”

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you,” you smiled, easing him down onto the sofa and taking a look at the greenish tinge to his cheeks. “Hey, you gonna throw up?”

“Maybe?” he said. Then, the more he thought about it, the greener he got.

“You sit tight. I’ll find a bowl or something. And a glass of water.”

When you came back, he was leaning forwards with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, trying to steady his breathing. “I’m… I’m gonna…” he said, and you instinctively shoved the bowl into the space in front of him. Just in time.

His body heaved and you rested the bowl on his knees while you held his hair back out of the way. You’d done this for girls at college who’d had hair as long as his, but you’d never done it for a guy. Somehow it felt different. More intimate, despite the fact that he was still practically a stranger.

“I’m sorry,” he managed to say again between heaves.

It wasn’t long before he recovered enough for you to be able to leave him and deal with the bowl. When you returned, you found him, ashen-faced, sipping the water and looking frankly about as miserable as a wet raccoon. He even had the shadows under his eyes too, for sure.

“What happened?” you asked tentatively, sitting down beside him.

“Got thinking,” he said without opening his dark eyes.

“About?”

“Him.”

“Who’s ‘him’?” you asked, instantly knowing you were going to regret bringing this topic up.

He swallowed. “My ex.”

“Ah.”

“I had fun today, you know?” Connor said, casting you a careful, sideways look through squinted eyes. His dark gaze was still unfocused and glassy, but the pain in his eyes was clear as day. “It was nice. But it made me think…”

“Yeah, that can happen,” you said.

“He was a human too,” he said. “Is. He’s still around. Doing fine. Moved on to someone easier to be with, I guess. Someone who doesn’t need to sprout a fucking tail and go back to the sea. Hey, you know what he said? Right before he broke up with me?”

This was not a healthy line of conversation, but for now, you allowed it, sensing that he needed someone new with whom he could talk this through. He’d probably exhausted his friends with it already. “What did he say?”

“He said ‘you’ve got a nice ass, Connor, when you’re a human. It’s just a shame I can’t fuck a fish!’”

“Thats… wow, that’s callous.”

“Right? I’m not even a fish! Mer aren’t fish. We’re not mammals either. Fuck knows what we’re classed as. I don’t even care. But you can definitely fuck a mer. That’s for sure.”

“So, tell me then… how does alcohol affect mer?”

“Can’t you see?” he said sourly. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Yeah, but… you gonna be ok?”

“I’ve been drunk before.”

“Why didn't you go back to the sea earlier? Have you been drinking all this time?”

Connor shook his head and then rapidly looked like he regretted it. He groaned and sat back on the sofa, eyes fluttering closed once again. “I walked up to the springs for a bit. I’m not… I’m not normally like this,” he said, his voice gravelly. “I don’t normally get drunk.”

The sadness in his tone struck you deeply. “I get it,” you said. “Breakups suck.”

“He sucks,” Connor retorted petulantly. “Ah, fuck. I should go. I don’t want you to see me like this. Not when… not… not after…” he broke off, shaking his head. He tried to stand but his knees gave way a little and he veered sideways.

You shot up to catch him before he face-planted onto the floor and, laughing gently, you laid him back down on the sofa. “You stay right there,” you said, helping him to lie down. “Sleep it off. Let me grab a blanket.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his eyelids already drooping.

By the time you returned with a blanket from a box upstairs, he was sound asleep. He was going to have one wicked hangover in the morning though.

You took his shoes off for him, surprised by how cold his feet were despite the socks and the temperature of the room. Maybe merfolk just ran cold; you recalled the coolness of his palm from earlier and shrugged. Somehow, he was still gorgeous, even pass-out drunk on your sofa.

You left the, now clean, bowl within hurling distance and hoped he wouldn’t need it, and made sure he was lying comfortably on his side with a cushion beneath his head. He didn't wake as you lifted him gently and slid the small cushion under his cheek, but you were surprised when he let out a deep, sleepy moan at your touch.

“Sleep well,” you said as you headed upstairs, leaving him with a large glass of water.

Morning came and you stretched groggily. It was only as you thought about taking yourself in hand to ease out the tension of your morning wood that you remembered that you were not alone in the house. Lying there for a little while longer, thinking about Connor and the sharp, chiselled planes of his face, did not help matters, and eventually you relented and closed your fist around your cock. You gasped at the rush of pleasure, and it wasn’t long at all til you were spilling into your hand, thinking about what it might be like to be with the merman. Guilt rushed in to replace the elation of your release when you remembered that he was not long into the first stages of post-breakup hell, and thinking about him that way was probably not the most appropriate thing in the world.

After a perfunctory clean up, you dressed and headed downstairs. The moment you reached the bottom of the staircase, you froze. The sounds drifting from the living room were not the sounds of morning pleasure. In fact, at a faint little whimper, you shot forwards into the room and saw that Connor was lying on his back on the sofa, writhing weakly and gasping.

“Connor?”

“Help,” he rasped, clawing at the blanket. As it slid slowly off him, you realised with a jolt of shock that the pile of clothing on the floor was his discarded jeans and t-shirt from the night before. Your eyes shifted back to his legs and you gasped. His skin was in the process of fusing together, turning dark and shadowy, his legs pressed together and clearly trying to become a tail.

“What do I do?” you asked helplessly. “Connor…”

He wheezed and jutted his head back, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. His hands were clawed now, the webbing stretching right up to the tops of his fingers, and visible as he flexed and balled his fingers in obvious pain. He looked across the room at you with his large, dolorous eyes, and tried to smile. “I…” a long, rattling inhale followed, and when he was finally able to speak again, he added, “I should have gone back to the sea. I -” he broke off with a sharp cry as his legs fused into a tail and his skin darkened to the familiar grey-blue you’d glimpsed in the water. The fan of his tail spread across the far end of the sofa, looking strangely like crumpled tissue paper.

“You’re gonna be heavy,” you said, “But I could probably carry you to the harbour from here if you need to be in the water. It’s not far. Maybe only a hundred yards or so?”

“Would you?” he asked, gratitude surging in his expression. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” you said. In fact, you were the one worrying. He looked dried out, and probably the alcohol from the previous night wasn’t helping in the dehydration stakes. “C’mon. Let’s give it a go.”

You opened the front door and grabbed your keys before turning back to the merman who had now completed his transformation and was lying limply on the couch, breathing rapidly and shallowly. There was still a tight wheezing to his breaths, and you noticed how the gills on his neck had opened in a futile attempt to draw in more air.

“You good?” you asked, and he nodded.

“I will be. Shit, I’m so sorry. I tried to hold it off but… I can’t stay ‘human’ on land for too long. I pushed it by staying last night.”

Connor’s pale cheeks flushed crimson as you stooped and slid your arms under his tail and around his torso. He immediately latched his arm around your neck, and you rose, staggering slightly.

“Fuck, you’re heavier than you look…” you grunted.

“Isn’t that romantic,” he quipped, turning his face away. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” you said. “It’s been an interesting time lately for you. And nothing says ‘getting to know a guy’ like carrying him ‘bridal style’ to the water and tossing him in… you know?”

Connor managed a weak laugh. “I knew you were a good’un when I first saw you.”

“No you didn’t,” you retorted, letting the front door slam shut behind you.

“You’re right. I just saw a good looking guy and thought I’d try and get into your pants to make me feel better. Happy now?”

“You’re not in my pants…” you pointed out, grunting again as you adjusted his weight.

“No, but I’m in your arms. That’s pretty close…” He turned serious and added, “But you deserve more than some rebound fuck… I’m… I’m sorry. For all of this.”

“I’m not,” you said. “My back might be tomorrow, but…”

Connor laughed again, and buried his face at your collarbone. “I’m so sorry. Let me make it up to you somehow.”

“Let’s get you to the harbour first, and then we can talk about making up. Or out…”

His grin was broad and toothy and genuine, and it went some way to reassuring you that he’d be ok.

It was a long, hard slog to the harbour, but you made it and just pitched him over the wall so that he fell, undignified and flailing, into the harbour mouth with a disgruntled squawk that made you laugh. The splash of his landing got you all the way up the front, but you sat down on the edge of the wall as he circled a little in the water, drawing water through his parched gills, and then bobbed up at the surface again, looking sheepish.

“Thanks,” he said, eyes fixed on his hands as he floated there in front of you.

“No problem,” you replied. “Seriously. I know what it’s like to go through a rough breakup. It’s shit. You seem like a good guy, and I’m happy to be here for you. I’d like to get to know you better anyway… regardless of what… you know… might happen down the line. Or not.”

Connor’s smile was as broad and white as it had ever been. “Thanks. I… I’m not sure I deserve that, but thanks anyway.”

“Look, I’ll let you get sorted out for now, but if you’re free tomorrow, meet me at the cove with the fossils again? You don’t have to come on legs this time either.”

He nodded, seeming surprised at your last comment. “Alright. I’ll see you there. What time?”

“Just before sunset?”

Connor nodded once more, and then disappeared in a flash of his tail as he sped away through the clear water of the harbour, out to the brackish waters of the estuary beyond the protective curve of the wall.

At sunset the following day, you had taken your shoes off and were enjoying the cool water with your jeans cuffed up when a splash further out to sea signalled the arrival of Connor. He looked brighter, healthier, and he powered up through the gentle, lapping surf and dragged his body up above the tide line to join you. “Hi,” he said, rolling onto his back and splaying his arms out at his sides like a starfish to recover his breath after the effort. “Fuck. I’m so sorry about yesterday. I’m not a complete drunken loser, I swear.”

“Like I said, I get it,” you said, standing beside him and staring out at the sun as it sank low above the horizon, heavy and as searing as a blacksmith’s coal over the water. You looked down at him then, and something began to thrum in you. You’d yet to see all of him like this, as he truly was, and he was even more beautiful than he’d been in his ‘human’ form. You hissed a soft curse to yourself, but he heard it and flashed a frown at you.

“What?”

“You’re… You’re stunning, Connor. I don’t know what your ex was thinking, but… you’re beautiful like this. Especially in this light.”

Connor blushed and looked away. Then, with a snort of laughter, he grabbed your ankle and knocked your knee out from behind you, sending you sprawling into the wet sand beside him. Your jeans soaked up the seawater instantly, and you gasped at the shock of the cold water.

He pulled you close and crushed a kiss against your lips before you had time to register it, and you found your body responding instantly. “Connor,” you panted, drawing back and finding his pupils fully dilated. “You sure you want this?”

“Yes,” he rasped. “I want you. Please…”

You ran your hands down his slender torso, to where his hips melted into the rough, pale skin of his shark-like lower half. The skin there was tough as fine sandpaper, and as you skimmed over his hips, he arched his spine and whimpered.

“Connor?”

“So good,” he mumbled. “Fuck, that’s so good.”

You lavished attention on the transition point at his hips, and he was soon a writhing, squirming wreck, left beached high above the retreating tide. His tail flopped uselessly, and his clawed fingers raked furrows in the hard, wet sand. He bucked upwards into you and you found a slit swelling and opening in his lower body. It was slick and as you guided your fingers to it, running your fingertips around the hot, silky walls of the inside, he yelped and moaned, biting his lip and swearing. “Fuck, yes, there… fuck. Fuck!”

And as you slid your fingertips further inside the slit, you found that the puffy, smooth walls hid a delightful surprise. Not one, but two cocks began to swell inside, and as you ran your finger along the slick interior, a large tentacle-like cock slid free and writhed idly in the cool, evening air. The second cock, a little smaller but equally hard and eager, slipped free a moment later, and writhed beside it.

“Well,” you said. “Isn’t that a surprise.”

Connor smirked softly and raised his hips weakly. “Please…” His cocks were leaking already, and a line of pre-come hung between them from tip to tip.

“How could you not have been enough for anyone?” you mused aloud, growing painfully hard yourself. Your cock was soon straining at your boxers, and you ached to run it between his twin cocks and feel the slickness of his heat against your body. “Can I?” you asked, and he nodded instantly.

You took both of his cocks in one hand and pumped them gently, the way you’d have taken a human’s cock in hand when just starting out, warming up and teasing. Connor tipped his head back and moaned deliciously, exposing his pale throat to you as he tried to grind his hips up into your hand, seeking more contact, more friction… more.

“Please…” he gasped a moment or two later. “Please…”

“Please what?”

“Anything, dammit,” he snarled, teeth on show. “Anything, just… it’s… it’s not enough… and… and I want to see you. Please, let me see you.”

“Just see?” you teased.

You were met with another growl and a row of white teeth.

“I’m not letting those pearly whites near my cock unless you grow some manners,” you snickered as you undressed, heedless that this was a public (if quiet) beach.

Once naked, you watched as Connor’s eyes drifted down your body to your hard cock and his pupils soared even wider. “Fuck, look at you,” he said. “You’re fucking perfect…”

“Connor, I want… I want to… but…”

“My slit…” he said. “Fuck my slit. Please. I’m slick enough…”

You needed no more encouragement.

You straddled the merman, feeling the hard, rough skin of his shark-like tail between your thighs, before you leaned over him, lowering your hard cock towards his own. His two cocks were both weeping, the tentacle-like shapes twisting in the cold air, desperately seeking out heat and contact. When they found your own, painfully hard cock, they instantly began to coil around your length, gripping you with incredible strength. They were leaking and wet, slippery and searingly hot, and you felt your balls tighten at the way they twined around you.

You swore and Connor groaned as you rocked your hips between them. His two cocks spiralled around your own gripping you so tightly it stole your breath completely. You swore, head tipping forwards over him as sparks ignited along your spine. His clawed hands found your back and he raked delicate, red lines across your skin as you rutted into him.

Your tip hit the entrance of the slit which contained his two cocks, and he cried out as you entered him.

“You want me… to stop?” you asked, breathless.

He shook his head. “Fuck no. Keep going. That’s amazing…”

You slid into him and as you did, his cocks gripped you tighter. “I’m not gonna last much longer if…” one of his cocks coiled around your balls and slid towards the cleft of your cheeks. “Oh fuck, Connor, I’m.. That’s…”

“You don’t want me to?” he managed to whisper.

“Please,” you said. “I need you…

And with your cock now buried fully in his slick sheath, and with one of his cocks wrapped tightly around your shaft, you felt his other cock slip inside you. The intrusion wasn’t as painful as you’d though it was going to be, having had no preparation, but perhaps that was because of the shape of him, and because it was the slightly smaller cock that was sinking into your ass. The tip of it nudged suddenly against your prostate and you saw white.

His other cock clenched around your own, and as he hit you again and again in that bundle of nerves, you cursed, grabbed his shoulders, bowed your head, and as that heat surged inside you, you spilled all over his chest. A second or two later, while you were still twitching and convulsing through your own release, Connor found his peak and emptied himself over his own stomach, and inside you with a wild, high yell of pleasure.

You felt his release hit you deep inside as well, and after a few seconds, it began to slide from you as his second cock softened a little.

His whole body twitched and shuddered, his eyes had rolled closed, and his chest gleamed with sweat.

Eventually he came back to you, and his tentacle-like cock unravelled from around your own and you rolled off him into the wet sand beside him. His chest rose and fell rapidly and his pale skin was flushed and heated with the exertion.

Connor reached clumsily across the space between you and ran his leathery palm over your stomach and up your chest to your neck where your heartbeat pounded. Limply, he rolled onto his side and kissed your throat, raking his teeth gently over your sensitive, flushed skin. “Gods, I came so hard…”

You snorted a smile back at him and he laughed, flopping back into the sand. “What are we doing?” he murmured.

You shrugged. “I don’t know. But… I’m willing to see where it goes, if you are?”

“You mean you’re happy to fuck a fish?” he asked bitterly.

You rolled your eyes. “I just did, didn’t I?”

Connor offered you a lopsided grin and met your eyes askance. “Yeah. You did. Did you like it?”

You eyed the mess you’d both made of his torso pointedly.

Connor gave a final smile and pushed himself upright. Your combined mess slid down his front and you watched as his cocks retreated back into the sheath with slow, deliberate pulses.

He caught you watching him and blushed crimson.

“What?” you asked.

“I… Nothing,” he said, still not meeting your eye.

“You really are beautiful,” you said.

“Even like this?” he said with a deliberate flick of his tail.

You scowled and sat up too, reaching out and taking the back of his head in your hand.

His hair was wet, and he tasted of the sea, but you didn’t care.

You kissed him hard, biting his lip and making him moan and his eyes roll shut again.

When you pulled back, you practically growled, “Especially like this, Connor.”

************************************

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mymelodyheart · 3 years

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Forget Me Not Chapter 4 ~Something About Jamie~

Jamie hadn't slept a wink. He had tossed and turned in his bed, unable to relax and unwind, his body and brain in perpetual, heightened alertness. Not even the previous sleepless nights anticipating Claire's arrival, and downing more whisky than he should before he went to bed, helped him sleep. An image of his foster sister snuggled against him, her arms draped upon his waist and her warm breath on his chest, rose unbidden in his thoughts. Although the gestures were innocent, his fancy was more of a sensual and sultry kind. He tried to push the images out his head thinking if he didn't curb his imagination, he would either need to go for a long jog in ungodly hours of the night or to immerse himself in a cold bath. The fact that Claire slept in the bedroom next to his didn't help ease the predicament he was in. When the sun finally streamed through his windows, he heard her alarm clock go off and the sound of her movement in the next room. Jamie knew in a short while, Claire would be off to meet Frank for coffee. He needed to do something about Frank, but what? But first things first - a very cold shower was of paramount urgency.

..........

Claire had woken to the sound of her phone alarm, tinkling wind chimes that became louder until you hit the snooze or stop button. Remembering her coffee date with Frank, she smiled as she stretched like a lazy cat on her old bed and reached out to turn off the chiming sounds. It was a good thing she had the mind to set the alarm before seeing Jamie last night, as the last thing she remembered, she was nestled against the crook of his arms falling asleep to the steady rise and fall of his sturdy and muscular chest. That thought made her smile too as it had felt so right, so good and so much more. Realising the bawdy picture starting to form in her mind, she shook her head forcefully, trying to erase the "so much more" part.

"Think Frank!" she muttered mentally. It was Frank's name she had engraved on one of the trees near Lallybroch, and it was his name she had scribbled in most of her notebooks ever since she had reached puberty and fallen in love with him. Although her heart didn't kick into a gallop as it used to when she met up with Frank at the pub, she couldn't help but feel a slight satisfaction in suspecting he was into her. Handsome as ever, he was the epitome of her ideal man; tall dark and handsome.

But why did her thoughts keep wandering to images of Jamie; tall, coppery and devastatingly masculine. It wasn't right and appropriate to think of him in that light when all he had ever been to her since she came to Lallybroch as a young child, was a caring, protective older brother. There was much at stake, and she wasn't about to jeopardise that special bond and closeness they had, by acting on her attraction towards Jamie. Ultimately, there was Frank, and after all these years of being in love with him, she finally had his attention, and they were meeting for coffee in a short while.

Twice she stuck her head out of the door, wondering how long more she needed to wait until Jamie was done in the bathroom. Claire knew it was him in the shower, as everyone else in the house were early risers, and she heard the rest of the family congregating in the kitchen earlier. For the love of God, why the hell is Jamie taking so long? I'm going to be late!

Unable to wait anymore, she burst in, a hand over her eyes, with just enough gap between two fingers to see his naked silhouette turn abruptly in her direction. To her relief, Jamie was still in the shower. "Don't mind me...I'm not looking. Carry on what you're doing!" Claire announced as free fingers groped for the sink. Safe in the knowledge Jamie was still behind the shower screen, she put the hand down from her face and concentrated as best as she could at the task at hand, opening cabinets to retrieve toiletries she needed.

"What the fuck!? Christ Sassenach, couldn't ye wait for yer turn? I'm still in the shower!" he barked, his guttural tone making Claire wince.

"Sorry Jamie, I had to; otherwise I'll be late. You're taking so damn long. I just need to brush my teeth and quickly shave my legs..." she explained sounding breathless. The shower was to her right, and from her peripheral vision, Claire could tell Jamie had turned his back to her, cursing under his breath. Unable to help herself, she took a quick peek, and the sight of his arse made her mouth go dry. Quickly averting her gaze to what she was doing, she clumsily squirted far too much toothpaste than necessary. Sweet mama of Christ, I'd give that 100 out of 10.

"Why do ye need to shave yer legs when ye're just going out for coffee with Frank?" he asked, trying to sound stern as he quickly rinsed off the suds. Shave her legs?!? Wasn't that what girls do before sex?

"For your information, I regularly shave my legs. I felt I had stubbles..." Claire hurriedly explained as if she was able to read Jamie's thoughts. "If I was running any later, I would have joined you in the shower and done my business in there. I guess I'll have to do it in the sink..." Claire's voice trailed off as she started to vigorously brush her teeth. Why the hell did she say that for?

Glancing at her, still wearing his T-shirt from last night, Jamie groaned as he thought of Claire sharing a shower with him. He was half tempted to walk over to her and yank off the oversize garment she was wearing and see what was underneath. "Sassenach! Get the fuck out. I've nae clothes on!"

"Well, it would hardly be called having a shower if you did have clothes on. Besides, I see heaps of naked men all the time. Surely your anatomical make up isn't much different to the rest of the male population." Oh boy, am I so wrong. That arse is one of the finest I've seen! Thank God for Geillis and her love for ogling at naked men on the internet. She was her constant source for naughty staple venture whether Claire welcomed it or not. "And what's the fuss? I've seen you naked before..." Claire made circular motions with an index finger in his direction without looking at him, as she continued to brush her teeth.

"What do ye mean ye've seen me naked before?" What did she mean she'd seen heaps of naked men before.

"We used to bathe together... can't you remember?"

"For fuck sake, Sassenach, we were bairns!"

"Well, not much should have changed except...well... maybe just in size... bigger..." she gulped, almost swallowing the froth spuming in her mouth. "...and hairier."

"Sassenach!"

"What?"

"GET OUT!"

Quickly rinsing her mouth with mouthwash, Claire didn't bother with shaving her legs and ran out of the bathroom. Once in the safety of her bedroom, she quickly dressed in jeans and sweatshirt eager to leave the house before Jamie made an appearance downstairs.

..........

Christ! Why did he have to shout at her? She was merely sharing the bathroom with him like old times. Except, when he wasn't naked in the shower and had a semi-arousal on, he reminded himself. She had walked in, face still puffy from sleep and her hair wild, loose and long. If he hadn't been feeling horny, he might have found the whole picture adorable and cute, except, he thought she looked so damn sexy, and his mind strayed to images of the types of undergarment she could be wearing under his shirt. Or maybe none at all. Ah Dhia! Although the glass screen was splattered with rivulets of water from the shower, he had noticed Claire taking sideways glances in his direction and mused if she liked what she saw. She did admit to having seen many naked men before, so why was her face so beet red. He didn't like the idea, one bit, of her looking at other naked men's arses and wondered if she had any intention of looking at Frank's. Swallowing a surge of shame and guilt, he rubbed himself dry with a towel until his skin chafed and to his dismay, he noticed the cold shower had not helped at all. He had a lot of pent up energy to unleash. Maybe checking up on the hotel restoration would be a great idea, and the construction workers would probably be only too happy to have an extra pair of hands assisting.

..........

Frank was already in the cafe when Claire finally arrived, out of breath. She couldn't decide whether her state of breathlessness had anything to do with seeing Jamie naked earlier in the bathroom or running from the car park to the cafe. Either way, she was grateful for the cleansing crisp air she inhaled, and she hoped there was no telltale sign of the heat that permeated her face since leaving the house.

Frank was sipping his cappuccino when she walked into the coffee shop, and the moment he saw her, he immediately stood and strode towards her before enfolding her in an embrace.

"Good morning, lovely, you look absolutely beautiful," he whispered in her ears before pulling away to guide her at their table. "How was your first night back in Lallybroch? I hope you slept well."

Looking around, Claire saw a few familiar faces from school, who nodded and smiled at her in greeting. She was amazed by the attention one garnered when no longer labelled as an outsider and shunned for her quirks and awkwardness. Feeling all of a sudden conscious, she hurriedly sat down on the chair offered by Frank.

"Thank you...I slept like a log. I must have been exhausted from the journey and the excitement of seeing my family..." Her thoughts wandered to last night, her ensconced in Jamie's arms and how wonderful it felt to fall asleep against his warmth.

"That's a somewhat secretive smile," Frank said, arching a brow in curiosity. "What's on your mind?"

"Oh..uhm...my mind just drifted off to yesterday and how happy ma was, to have us all under one roof," she lied, trying to refocus her attention back to Frank, mildly annoyed with herself for fibbing.

"I'm so sorry to leave all of a sudden yesterday. We had a bit of a family emergency last night. Dad's car broke down, and I had to take him to the airport."

"That's alright, Frank. Like what I said, I was tired and..."

"Claire..." he interrupted and leaned closer to her. "Let me cut to the chase. I really want to see you again. Having coffee with you wasn't my idea of a first date, but I would love to take you out...somewhere nicer and maybe more private."

"That would be lovely. I like that."

Frank thought he saw a fleeting doubt reflected in her eyes. He wanted to reach out and take her hand but refrained from doing so, thinking it was too soon. "Claire, I know I've been a total arse when we were in school. I truly regret that. I was young and stupid..."

Claire smiled in spite of memories of let-downs and disappointments came flooding back. "Yes, you were an arse. What changed your mind now? Is it because I look different without my braces and glasses? Not once did you acknowledge me back then although we've sat across each other so many times at the dining table in Lallybroch when you came for dinner with Jamie," she said softly. It wasn't meant to be a cutting remark but an honest query.

Grimacing, Frank cleared his throat, looking down into his coffee cup as though the answer resided there. "Ouch, I deserve to be reminded of that. I must have been really horrible."

Claire knew she wasn't helping matters by putting him on the spot and thought, she was rather ungracious with all his efforts to expunge his bad-boy image. Feeling remorseful, she smiled softly at him. "Look let's forget about it, alright? I'm sorry I even mentioned it. Past is past...let bygone be bygone."

He sighed, looking relieved. "Alright...let's start again. How about dinner tonight?"

"Sorry, Frank, not tonight." Vaguely remembering Jenny's Italian dinner arrangement, Claire explained why she couldn't go.

"Mmm, sounds like a threesome date," Frank teased, and Claire couldn't help but notice the mild jest belied the seriousness of his remark.

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, Frank. I'm with my brothers and sister," she asserted, not wholly convinced the surety of her statement.

"They're not really your siblings, you know, and you're not related by blood. And if I recall, I may be right in assuming that Jamie has been carrying the torch for you for as long as I can remember."

She stopped and stared at him. "That's absurd, Frank. Jamie has been brotherly to me all his life." Frank's blunt unbosoming of his thoughts about Jamie was unexpected and had taken her by surprise.

"Is it really that absurd?" This time Frank held her gaze, searching for clues for any inkling Claire might have. "He's my best friend in case you've forgotten. I've seen the way he looked at you plenty of times when we were in school. Even though he never mentioned anything to me, his actions spoke louder than words."

"Yes, utterly absurd and you seem to forget the fact, I grew up with him. Surely if that's the case, I would have known."

"If you say so." Frank relaxed and smiled, leaning back against his chair. "Sorry, Claire, I just wanted to know how many competition I am up against."

"I can assure you there's no competition," Claire said firmly, convinced she was right with her supposition.

"Great... dinner then, next weekend? Let's make it Saturday night. Maybe we could drive somewhere further away or somewhere you've never been to before."

"That's absolutely grand... I'm looking forward to it!" Claire put on the brightest smile she could muster and wondered why she wasn't inwardly celebrating for bagging a date with her dream man no matter how much she pushed the thoughts of Jamie away.

Two coffees, a bottle of mineral water and a piece of tomato and basil bruschetta later, Frank walked Claire to the car. Before she could hop in, he gently touched her elbow. "Claire, before you go...I have something to ask."

"Mmm?" she asked.

"May I kiss you?" Frank was posed ready to swoop down for a kiss, his gaze on her lips, waiting for her verbal consent.

Claire swallowed, panic eddying in the pit of her stomach. Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, I'm going to embarrass myself. Instead of answering, she stood on tiptoes and kissed Frank on the cheek before quickly hopping into the car. Before turning on the ignition, she poked her head out of the window. "Let's leave the kiss part until Saturday after the date, shall we?" she said, trying to sound cool-headed.

"As you wish..." Frank smiled before tapping the bonnet of her car. "I shall see you Saturday then. Meanwhile, drive safely and enjoy your night out with your siblings."

..........

Claire arrived at Lallybroch and was grateful there were no cars parked in the driveway. Nobody home...great! Just what she wanted. She knew Geillis would be in as Willie planned to pick her up and show her around the hamlet. Claire had 45 minutes alone time with her to discuss her problem.

"Geillis! Where are you?" Claire called out as soon as she let herself into the house.

"Up here!" Her friend shouted back.

Claire ran up the stairs taking two steps at a time, nearly stumbling when she reached the top. As soon as she opened the door to the guest room, she blurted. "Geillis...I need your help!"

"What's the matter? Are ye alright?" Her forehead pleating neatly above her brows.

"Yes, yes I'm great but promise me you will not laugh...," Claire laughed nervously, wringing her hands and leaning back towards the hallway to make sure no one was about.

"Christ Claire...spit it out!" she said bemusedly, a look of mild concern in her eyes.

"Frank asked me to kiss him...but I have a problem." Claire squeezed her eyes tight and swallowed hard before continuing. "I've never kissed a man before. You were always talking about French kissing in the past. Now, I want to know everything about it before Willie comes to pick you up. So tick-tock...start talking!"

Geillis' face cracked into a huge grin, her dimples on the cheek deepening and her cornflower blue eyes lightening up. "Oh my God, Claire! Ye've never been kissed? I had a hunch ye might still be a virgin, but tae reach the age of twenty-three, and tae n'er have been kissed...good Lord, ye've certainly missed out a lot in life."

It was the last thing Claire needed to hear, but she had to show restraint where her temper was concerned as Geillis was the only person she could confide to when it came to French kissing. "I know...I know...so are you going to show me how or will you be making a list of all the things I've missed in life," she retorted exasperatedly, closing the door behind her.

Still smiling, Geillis sat on the floor and crossed her legs. "Come here, Claire and sit down," she instructed, patting the rug opposite her.

Claire sat in front of Geillis, feeling on edge as she crossed her legs and waited apprehensively for what's to come next.

"Right...this is about trust, ok? Do ye trust me?" Geillis asked, reaching for both Claire's hands as her face took a turn for a more serious look.

Claire nodded eagerly before she could change her mind.

"Ok, before we start I want to ask ye first, would ye like to practice with my mouth? Or, if you're no' comfortable kissing me, ye can kiss the hole of yer hand when ye form it in the fist. Problem is, your hand won't kiss ye back," Geillis explained, and Claire could tell, her friend was trying to suppress a giggle.

Straightening her back, Claire shook her shoulders and spun her head in rotation, attempting to calm her nerves and relax. "Alright, we will practice with each other's mouth as long as you're alright with it. I guess I'm alright with it too," she said firmly trying not to sound petrified.

Geillis smiled mischievously before giving her a wink. "I'm cool with it, and I love kissing women...they're more soft and pliable."

"Geillis!" Claire's eyes nearly popped out in shock. If Geillis was trying to shock her, it was definitely working.

"Ok, ok here goes...first ye need tae know yer target, ok?" Geillis started, this time, her voice firm and resolute. "You wouldna want tae stick yer tongue into Frank's nostril or his eyeballs."

"Geillis!"

"Ok...gee! Loosen up will ye! So...ye lean forward slowly...very slowly like this..." Geillis angled towards her, her voice barely a whisper. "Ye wouldn't want tae bump foreheads and noses. It could be quite a painful experience, ye ken."

"Right...slowly," Claire replied, clearing her throat.

"Now lean forward to me, gradually and wet your lips. Before you slip your tongue into your Frank's mouth, you should slowly, gently part your lips, so he knows what to expect. No one likes a tongue ambush."

"Uh-huh." Claire closed her eyes and leaned towards her friend. She could feel Geillis' warm strawberry breath fanning her face.

"Ye should start by putting just a teensy bit of yer tongue beyond Frank's lips," Geillis murmured, her eyes half-closed watching Claire's lips part.

So intent they were with each other, neither of them heard a car parked outside nor the heavy footsteps climbing purposely up the stairs nor Jamie's voice calling out. He knocked twice before opening the door to Geillis' room. The girls didn't hear.

Jamie walked in and staggered to a stop, his eyes bulging out, his mouth opening and closing before settling for an open-mouth look. He saw both girls, sat cross-legged, knees touching as they leaned towards one another. It took around 10 seconds before Geillis realised he was stood there, while Claire's face was still in animated suspension, eyes closed and lips parted.

"Och, look at the time, Willie must be downstairs," Geillis suddenly announced, making Claire jump out of her skin.

When it finally registered to Claire that Jamie was stood there looking at them, one hand flew to her mouth, her amber eyes bright and wide and her face a shade of dark crimson. Oh shite!

"Don't look like that Jamie...I was just teaching Claire how to French kiss. Did ye know that she's never been kissed before? She wanted lessons before she kisses Frank. I was just in the middle of explaining when ye barged in..." Geillis grabbed her handbag before walking up to Jamie, one hand going under his chin to close his gaping mouth. "See ye later guys, I'm off to see the local delights." She smiled and winked naughtily at them before heading out of the room.

Oh for the love of sweet Jesus, what now! Claire's heart began to hammer painfully against her ribs as she tried to avoid Jamie's eyes. Nobody said a word initially, as she kept her gaze fixed on the rug. When Jamie finally moved towards her, he stopped and held out a hand. "Sassenach?" She looked up, and taking a deep breath, she placed her hand in his. She fought to breathe as his hand firmly closed around hers and pulled her up from the floor.

"So ye've never been kissed?" he asked huskily, his eyes overwhelmingly vivid and dark, as he took a step forward. They were merely inches apart.

Claire could only nod in answer, as she stared wide-eyed into his blue. She blinked a couple of times as she smelled sawdust, sweat and masculine smell emanating from him.

"Why did ye no' tell me?" His eyes were caressing her face before finally resting on her lips.

Claire shrugged. Her heart started to dance the rumba...or was it merengue?

"So, Geillis was explaining to ye how to French kiss...is that right, aye?"

Claire nodded as she glanced at his lips.

"Weel, I'll do you one better, I'll show you," Jamie whispered, his voice sounding ragged, as his face came closer until only a hairsbreadth separated them.

Claire's eyes widened as the moisture in her mouth evaporated. Her brain was shouting no, but every other part of her being was frolicking giddily. She felt one callused thumb pressed against her chin, gently parting her lips.

"I'll be damned if I allowed Frank to be yer first kiss," Jamie muttered, before grazing his tongue between her lips.

Jesus H.Roosevelt Christ!

#melodyheart #forgetmenot #Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser #outlanderfanfic

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sambergscott · 5 years

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amy santiago is officially late for the first time ever

Amy Santiago has never been late for anything. She was born two days before her due date, her period arrives on time every month (except, of course, nine months ago) and she is never late for work, often ditching her husband mid-way through his morning rush to ensure at least she is punctual. However, with her due date nine days in the rearview mirror, she feels massive and exhausted all the time and an overwhelming need for this baby to get the hell out of her.

Everyone’s eyes are on her as she waddles determinately into the bullpen, one hand on her ridiculously large bump, the other carrying her hospital bag which is basically an accessory at this point. She lifts her chin, ignoring all of them, and approaches her husband’s desk as fast as a nine month (and nine day) pregnant lady can. “Hey, babe,” she says, trying to inject as much enthusiasm into her voice as she can muster.

“Hey, Ames,” he grins, stealing a quick kiss. “How you feeling?”

“Very pregnant.”

“Same as this morning, then,” he responds cheerily.

“Mmhmm,” she hums, squeezing herself into the chair next to his desk. She watches silently as he carries on with his work — an arrest report for some drug dealer he bragged about bringing in the night before.

“Did you need anything?” He asks with a fleeting glance in her direction. “Baby OK?”

“Baby’s fine. Super comfortable in there. Too comfortable. I just needed to get out the apartment.”

“Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool.” He continues tapping at his keyboard. “To be honest, I’m kind of jealous.”

Amy’s eyes bug. “Jealous? Of this? Are you insane?”

“Not jealous of the backache and the constant need to pee and the fact a human is about to push its way out of your vagina, jealous that you two are hanging out twenty four sevs,” he explains. “I wanna join the party, you know?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call this a party.” She gestures at her oversized tee and black leggings disparagingly.

“You’ve obviously aced this pregnancy thing so much she doesn’t want to leave. It’s not fair.”

“I mean, it’s your fault she’s late.”

“Excuse me?” Jake scoffs. “How is it my fault?”

“Santiago’s are always early. You’re always late. Therefore, the fact that our baby hasn’t been born yet is clearly because of your disgusting, tardy genes.”

“Offensive,” he chimes in, rolling his eyes. “And I’m not always late.”

“You snoozed your alarm five times this morning,” Amy deadpans.

“OK, fine. Maybe I have a problem getting up in the mornings. But that doesn’t make it my fault that you’ve gone past your due date.”

“I’m afraid it does, Jacob. My grandparents, parents, all of my brothers and all of my nieces and nephews have been born early. Our daughter is half-Peralta and she’s late. You’re a detective. Connect the dots.”

“Whatever,” he mutters darkly, returning to his arrest report.

Amy starts doing The Times crossword on her phone, asking Jake for help on the sports clues and offering up synonyms to give his boring report some pizazz. The backache that’s been bothering her all day becomes stronger but it’s not until her water breaks all over Jake’s chair (and onto the precinct floor) that she realises she’s actually in labour.

It’s all a whirlwind after that.

Holt drives them to the hospital as the only calm, rational one in their vicinity, Charles begs one last time to be their doula (Rosa has to forcibly drag him away) and Hitchcock and Scully carry on with their day, oblivious.

Amy squeezes his hand so tight his knuckles turn white as she performs her breathing exercises, the pain suddenly way worse than it was before.

“You’ve got this, babe,” Jake whispers into her hair as he helps her through a particularly bad contraction.

Once they’re in the hospital, the baby decides she has had enough of this being late thing, the Santiago genes kicking into drive. She wants to be out in the world and she wants to be out in the world NOW.

After lots of pushing and cursing and screaming in agony, their daughter is finally in Amy’s arms, nine days late but still a very welcome arrival.

She opens her eyes briefly when she first hears Jake’s voice like she recognises him from the hours he’d spent talking to her belly.

Jake totally, unashamedly sobs, crying even harder when he holds her for the very first time, the weight in his arms reminding him that, yes, this is for realz.

“You were just waiting to make a dramatic entrance like your Aunt Gina, weren’t you?” Amy murmurs, lightly stroking her daughter’s cheek.

“It was definitely dramatic,” Jake chuckles. “Are my genes forgiven now it’s Gina’s fault?”

“Nope. Although I am glad your curly hair was the dominant allele.”

“Yeah, her hair is super cute,” he agrees. “I’m glad she got your nose.”

Amy smiles softly, her heart full of love as she admires the tiny person they made. “She’s perfect.”

“Even if she did inherit my tardiness?”

“Absolutely,” she responds. “But I’m pretty sure she’s going to inherit my love of early mornings for the next few years. You ready for the challenge, Peralta?”

“I can’t wait.”

#b99 fics #jake x amy #my writing #i wrote this late last night so it's probs terrible #anyhoops back to revision hell!

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hoofclid · 5 years

Text

Appled Mathematics - Part 6

"Wait three days before making contact after a date" was a rule Braeburn had heard once. But he only had a week in Ponyville before he had to go back to his work in Appleloosa, so he'd decided that three days was way too long. In fact he decided that even one day would be too long.

So it was that after lunch he asked Applejack if he was needed on the farm that afternoon and was promptly sent packing. He had waited until after lunch because he thought the unicorn would need to catch up on some sleep. He was not wrong. Hoofclid had in fact slept in so long that he had reclassified lunch as breakfast, and had only just finished it when he heard the knock. He sleepily dragged himself to the door and opened it to find a huge smile looking back at him. Most of Hoofclid's tiredness seemed to melt off him when he recognised it.

"Afternoon, partner!" boomed Braeburn, slightly louder than he had meant. Hoofclid blinked back. Perhaps he was trying to work out if "partner" was a friendly Appleloosan greeting or meant something more. Truth be told, Braeburn was a little unsure himself. But a little playful ambiguity couldn't hurt for now, he decided.

"Wanna go for a walk? We only saw the town when ya showed me round on Monday, I'm sure there's some great countryside round here!"

"Ducks."

"Pardon?"

Hoofclid's slowly awakening brain realised that he hadn't managed to get out the entire sentence.

"I mean yes. There's a lake I like where there are some ducks. I could take you there."

It was a beautiful lake, although Braeburn couldn't immediately see any of the promised ducks. Appleloosa had no lakes. How many moons had it been since Braeburn had gone for a swim? Too many. Grinning, he stripped off his jacket and slung it over a branch, before hanging his hat next to it.

"Comin' in?" he said to the slightly puzzled unicorn before trotting into the water up to his fetlocks. It was a little chillier than he had expected—one of those 'ok once you're in' sorts of temperatures. Hoofclid had paused at the water's edge thinking things over. Or more accurately, Braeburn decided, overthinking them. He aimed a splash of water at the unicorn to break his train of thought.

"You're gonna get wet anyway if you stand there, you may as well come in!" Another splash.

Hoofclid smiled and bounced into the water a few feet away from the earth pony and aimed at tame little splash at him.

"That the best you got?" taunted Braeburn, prancing indolently.

Hoofclid grinned wolfishly. A flash from his horn was quickly followed by a small tidal wave which totally drenched Braeburn and carried straight on past him. A loud and annoyed quacking indicated that there were in fact ducks on this lake. Who had until now been having a nice nap.

"Sorry, was that a bit much?" Hoofclid smiled sheepishly and blushed. He was half way through a second apology when he discovered that years of applebucking made for legs that could deliver a mighty splash of their own.

The two stallions played happily in the water for a few minutes until they were interrupted by a veritable cascade of quacking from the bank. The ponies looked over to see that one of the ducks—who still looked about as furious as a duck could manage—had brought Fluttershy down to the lake.

"Um, Donald says that you've been disturbing his nap. I don't like to point hooves, but maybe you could play a little more quietly please?" Fluttershy was as quiet as ever, but perhaps a little firmer to indicate that there was no disobeying the request. Hoofclid and Braeburn trotted shamefacedly out of the water.

"Sorry, Fluttershy,." they chimed in unison. Fluttershy raised an eyebrow. Understanding immediately, the stallions turned to the duck.

"Sorry, Donald."

The duck started to rant again, but the eyebrow turned on him in a very obvious ‘They apologised, now go back to your nest’ signal. Donald flapped off.

"Would you two like to come back to my cottage for some tea? It's not far."

The sun was strong that day and the stallions dried off quickly on the walk to Fluttershy's place. They sat down in the garden together as Fluttershy busied herself making the tea—all offers of help being gently refused. Braeburn drank his cup slowly. Appleloosa was not really a place for hot drinks and he wasn't accustomed to them. Hoofclid meanwhile gulped down a large mug as Fluttershy took tiny sips from a much smaller cup.

As the conversation progressed, Braeburn noticed Hoofclid becoming quieter and quieter until he finally dozed off. The unconscious unicorn slipped over a little until he came to a stable position with his muzzle resting on Braeburn's forehoof.

"He must really like you..." said Fluttershy in a tone even quieter than usual—though Braeburn found the notion that Fluttershy's normal voice would ever wake anyone up faintly absurd.

"I wouldn't say that..." Braeburn hesitated, "...I just don't think he's got much sleep the last few days."

"It's more than that," replied Fluttershy after another tiny sip. "Hoofclid often sleeps badly, but I've never seen him take a nap like that before. He told me once that he's usually too nervous to fall asleep in a new place, or with other ponies around. You must make him feel really safe."

Braeburn couldn't think of a reply to that. Part of him wanted to argue, but he supposed Fluttershy knew Hoofclid far better than he did yet. He looked over at her. The pegasus was just

smiling at them from behind her teacup. Evidently she had said all she was going to on the matter.

He looked back down to the snoozing unicorn, who was smiling gently. He looked so peaceful it made Braeburn feel sleepy too. Maybe it couldn't hurt to just rest his eyes for a minute. He laid his head down on his hooves next to Hoofclid's, with every intention of carrying on talking to Fluttershy. He found he had no ideas for what to say next. The clearing was silent except for the slow sipping of Fluttershy's tea.

"You sure know how to show a colt a good time, huh cuz?" Braeburn blinked up at the sight of Applejack standing over him. He tried to work out what time it was. Early evening maybe? Hoofclid's eyes were open too, though he hadn't moved his head from its position resting against Braeburn. The earth stallion lifted his head up to look around, making the blanket slip off him slightly.

Wait. Blanket? Fluttershy, he guessed. Braeburn hadn't spoken to her much on her trip to Appleloosa, but he was rapidly appreciating that the Element of Kindness well deserved her reputation.

"You'd better come on back to Sweet Apple Acres. Big Macintosh is cookin' dinner and you know how partic’lar he can be about timings," explained Applejack.

The two stallions' ears flopped down in unison.

"OK cuz, I'm a-comin'," said Braeburn slowly.

AJ smirked. "Hoofclid's invited too of course."

The ears perked up again.

Hoofclid scrambled to his feet, his natural dislike of being late (coupled with hunger) overcoming his sleepiness at last. Using his magic to fold up Fluttershy's blanket as he trotted inside, he called back, "Well we don't want to keep everypony waiting, do we?"

Braeburn watched him go as he slowly came upright. Then he fell over again. It turned out that having a pony resting on your leg for hours on end sent it quite firmly to sleep. Applejack helped him up.

"Oh, by the way." Applejack grinned. "I took the liberty of snappin’ some pictures while y’all were sleepin'. Lookin' forward to the next reunion."