You Make It Easy
Steve Harrington x fem!reader
[9k] prompts: "I almost lost you" "I fucking hate you" "I’m never leaving, promise" and "I’ve never felt this way before and I’m terrified to be honest.”
A little upside down angst, some soft sex, best friends to lovers.
“God, I fucking hate you,” Steve panted, his voice pained and his words harsh but there wasn’t any heat behind it, his hands soft on you as he pulled you into the rough surface of the rock face.
“Hey now, that’s not v’nice” you mumbled, voice fuzzy and you hissed in pain when Steve tried to gather you into his side, lifting at your sleeve, exposing the bite marks on your shoulder.
You really didn’t understand Steve’s confusion at the sight of you appearing from the gate, waterlogged and chest heaving, ready to run for him, fight for him. You knew he’d do the same for you, for any of you. It’s why the idiot was the one to declare he was jumping over the side of the boat in the first place.
He’d left you on the narrow bench, rocking on the surface of Lovers Lake in darkness as Robin counted the seconds he’d been submerged, sounding like a ticking time bomb as you stared into the water, willing him to surface.
When he eventually did, you didn’t anticipate him to be ripped from your grip so quickly, so easily. You’d heard him call out your name, voice shocked, just as he swallowed water and disappeared.
The only person that seemed so shocked you’d immediately followed him, was Steve himself. Your jacket and any logic you’d had, had been left on the floor of the boat, your only thought being the safety of your best friend.
“Shut up,” there still wasn't any bite to his words, his eyes flashing with worry and anger, and you could feel it roll off of him in waves, his hands shaking on you.
Robin and Nancy exchanged a look, unsure if they should be helping or not, but god they were just as scared, eyes frantic, knowing all too well what else could come out from the vines and red mist of the upside down. So they stayed at the edges of you both, shoulder to shoulder and watching the tree line for monsters and nightmares.
Steve sucked in his bottom lip, trying to stay calm despite the situation you were all in. He felt helpless, frantic at the sight of your blood and the way your eyes were turning a little unfocused.
Dust and grey matter floated around you all, Eddie and the girls bathed in a dull, crimson light as they stared at you both, everyone with their own injuries. Cuts littered everyone’s skin, their clothes ripped, eyes wide, chests heaving.
“You never listen to me, you never goddamn listen to me, I told you to stay in the boat!” Steve was rambling now, voice climbing a little higher in volume as the landscape around you roared and hissed with life.
He stared at you, wide eyed. “Why d’you gotta be so fuckin’ stubborn, huh, sweetheart?”
“It’s been four years Harrington, that shit is on you if you think if I’m gonna start listening now.”
Your eyes were closed, hiding from the pain or your best friend’s accusatory glare, you weren’t sure, but when you heard a small snort of laughter, you knew it was Robin. You opened one eye, peeking out from your lashes and you watched the girl shake her head when you winked at her.
Steve was decidedly less amused. He was muttering to himself, completely ignoring your smart ass cracks but he winced and frowned every time you let a whimper of pain slip out. He felt sick, stomach rolling at the sight of your injuries, hating that you were hurt, mortified that it was because of him.
You could feel his hands on you, pressure and something stung, something seared at your skin and you tried not to think about it, tried not to think about how it was almost Steve. You felt a little sick, the image of the boy in the ground with that thing wrapped around his neck, like something out of a horror movie, your own personal nightmare.
It didn’t matter that you were hurt. You were fine. And Steve was safe. You’d slammed the bat with a broken oar, the wood rotting and damp in your hands and it left splinters and dirt in your palms. But you’d swung it almost mindlessly, panic in your chest that burned worse than the cuts and bites, because Steve had been choking.
He whispered your name and it sounded like a prayer, like a cry for help and you immediately sobered when you pulled your gaze away from Robin and looked back at the boy.
The smile slipped from your face and you realised you’d been slipping down further against skull rock, eyes lazy and unseeing as you let sleep pull at you. It all felt like a bad dream, a nightmare that nipped and sliced at your skin, razor sharp teeth gnawing at your bones until they burned.
Steve was on the ground next to you, kneeling in the rocks and dirt as he crowded into you, hands pressing material onto your upper arm that you quickly realised Nancy had ripped from her shirt.
His movements were clumsy and he was trying so hard to be gentle, to not hurt you anymore than you already were but his chest was heaving, his brown eyes were glassy.
Nancy hovered, placing a hand on his shoulder before whispering, “Hey, why don’t you let me help her?“
But he was shaking his head furiously, eyes set on you, on the blood that was running down your arm, soaking into your shirt and turning the cotton a dark red. He was stubborn and determined, completely unaware of the tears that were making his vision blurry because his attention was solely set on you - the fact that he could feel you warm and moving under his palms was the only thing keeping him together.
“Steve-” you began gently, voice breaking and wavering at the sight of him.
Dirt and blood streaked the sides of his face and neck, an angry, red welt there that you knew you would stay for a while; a horrific reminder of what you had to watch. He blinked at your voice, hands pausing, chest wrecked and finally, a tear tracked its way down his cheek, cutting through the grime and landing on his lip.
“I told you to stay on the boat,” he said again, but this time his voice was shot, cracking, splitting, shaking and he shuddered a little when he stole a gasp of air, his forearm swiping angrily across his lips, smearing tears and blood.
You tried to move, groaning when you shifted closer to him, just an inch - it was all you could manage - but you caught his chin in your hand, eyes wide, fingers splayed across his cheek and jaw as you rubbed circles into his skin with your thumb.
“I’m fine,” you whispered, trying with everything in you to soothe the boy, to bring back the same sarky attitude he had with you before. “I’m okay, I’m here and I know you hate me, I was just trying to-”
“I don’t hate you,” he scoffed and Steve was shaking his head, loosening your grasp on him and rocked back on his knees, staring at you with such guilt that it ruined you.
“I almost lost you,” Steve’s voice had risen again, his words biting and left hanging in the air and behind the anger, the frustration you could hear what was written in his eyes, what was making his chest heave.
Behind you both, Nancy, Robin and Eddie shuffled, moving a few feet away to offer you what little privacy they could afford despite the overwhelming threat of god knows what.
The Upside Down was still breathing with you all, it had its own heartbeat, a pulse underneath your feet that served as a constant reminder that you were being watched, tracked.
Like something was waiting.
But suddenly, there wasn’t anything more terrifying than watching Steve break apart in front of you, face damp with dirt, blood and tears, a pretty mess that you wanted to curl into, to ask ‘please take me home, it hurts.’
You sniffed instead, swallowed a gulp of air that tasted stale and like metal and you nodded, understanding. It took you a second but you moved to your knees, pulling yourself up gingerly with your hands gripping your best friend's sides. He was swearing, alarmed and annoyed that you were exerting yourself more than you should but you could feel the way his chest heaved underneath your touch, the way the air between you both crackled and roared with panic.
Anxiety was rolling off of the boy in waves and you wanted to do what you couldn’t do before, you wanted to grab his hand and pull him back up. Out of the water, out of the dark and into the boat.
Your hands found his face again, thumbs smoothing away the tears that streaked his cheeks and lip as you swayed into him, chests bumping and he caught you, hands wide across your ribs, his palms gingerly avoiding your wounds.
“Steve,” you whispered, trying to sound stern, trying to cut through his panic but your voice was cracking too, his emotions seeping into your own chest, squeezing at your heart, “Steve, babe, hey.”
He blinked, focusing on you, eyes roaming desperately over your features and he let out a gasp of breath that sounded like a sigh of relief and as he leant into you, forehead brushing your own, he was mumbling, voice soft and a little broken.
“I almost lost you,” he repeated, “you should’ve stayed on the boat, I thought I fucking lost you.”
“Shh, I know, it’s okay, I know,” you soothed him, eyes frantic as you scanned his face, watching how his strong features crumpled, like he was losing the strength that was holding him together.
“I’m here, I’m okay,” you reminded him and you moved slowly and carefully into him, hands dragging from his cheeks and into the hair at the nape of his neck as you wound your arms around him.
It took a second or two, maybe less, before Steve let himself return the touch, strong arms wrapping around your waist and you closed your eyes at the feel of it, not at all surprised to feel your own tears slipping down your cheeks, salt on your lips.
The pain you felt from your bites and cuts disappeared at his embrace, just for a minute. It was enough to warm you, the cold damp from the lake still sticking to your clothes and skin, but the feel of Steve safe and solid against you made you feel like everything was okay.
Somewhere in the distance, a creature roared and the boy’s hold on you tightened.
“You think I’m that easy to get rid of, huh?” You tried to lighten your voice, soften your tone, and you pressed the words into the soft skin of the boy's neck, your lips moving against the curve of it in an almost kiss. “Someone’s gotta stick around and watch your dumb ass, you’d never get anything done without me.”
You felt Steve let out a huff of breath, hot air falling onto your cheek as he pressed himself into you and it sounded like a laugh, like relief and sunshine and safety.
If you closed your eyes and played make believe, you could imagine you were in Steve’s bedroom, drunk after a stupid party and holding your best friend as you fell asleep, wishing and pretending it was something more.
“I’m okay,” you told him again, voice a little firmer and he nodded against you, his breathing stuttering as you soothed a hand over his wild hair, trailing your palm across the back of his neck. “We’re okay, I’m not leaving. Not leaving you, promise.”
The feel of his lips pressed to your temple, white hot and burning your skin, told you that he believed you.
Going back to Steve’s house was the easiest option, for all of you. The home lay empty, free of worried parents, panicked questions, calls to the police that wouldn’t make any difference.
You sat in the back of the car, pressed between Robin and Steve, ‘cause after the kids dropped you a lifeline from Eddie's trailer, you’d watched in surprise as Steve threw his car keys to the other boy, his hand tightly intertwined with your own and no one questioned it.
He wasn’t letting go of you and nobody was going to make him.
Dustin, Max and Lucas were in the trunk, quiet and wide eyes searching their older friends for some signs of reassurance. Nancy was up front with Eddie, talking softly about how everyone needed a hot shower and a good sleep, answering the questions that Dustin was asking, the younger boy’s voice worried and choked.
You leaned into Steve, your cheek on his shoulder, his head resting on yours and every now and then, he’d run his thumb over the top of your hand, reassuring you and himself, that you were both still there.
Eddie slowed and stopped at each house, dropping off the younger of the bunch and you all watched until they disappeared into the safety of their homes, one by one, waving before the doors closed.
You weren’t sure who decided the five of you were staying at Steve’s, it could’ve been Nancy, maybe even Robin. But Steve hummed his agreement and Robin directed the other boy to the house, impressive as it was empty. The windows were dark, the driveway clear and when you all stepped out onto the front porch, you could smell the chlorine from the backyard pool, a false sense of summer and happy memories.
It was easy to let Steve guide you to one of the bathrooms, Nancy and Eddie peeling off on the ground floor to find a shower and food, the kitchen lit up as the smaller girl busied herself at the oven, pressing buttons until it hummed to life and she searched the freezer drawers for pizzas and chicken nuggets, potato waffles and frozen fries, a late night dinner than Dustin would have envied.
You could smell pepperoni and the coffee machine that Steve’s mom bought but never used groaned and clicked to life, but Steve still had his hand in yours, the other on the small of your back as he led you to the en-suite off of his bedroom, as if keeping you as close as possible to the things he held dear would keep you the safest.
It was a little hazy as he pushed open the shower door, murmuring softly about water temperatures and left to right as he tapped the dials. You could only really nod, your grip on him still tight and you briefly wondered if you were able to let him go, if he was gonna be able to walk away from you.
But then he was turning on the water for you, spray hitting against the tray and it immediately engulfed you both in warm steam, sticking to your skin and easing some of the tension you held in your bones.
“I’ll be right back okay?” Steve told you, voice low and gentle as if he was worried he’d scare you. “I’m just gonna get you some clean clothes.”
You nodded again and despite what he’d just told you, you were surprised when his hand slid from your own. You felt uneasy, alone, surrounded by the mist of the hot water but Steve kept the door open and you watched him as he busied himself at his drawers, pulling out shorts and shirts, discarding them on the floor until he found one he deemed comfortable enough for you.
Slipping back into the small bathroom, he placed the clothes on the sink top and ducked his head a little to look at you, gazes meeting. You felt far away and somewhere in the back of your head, you wondered if this is what shock felt like. The humour and sarcasm that fuelled your experience in the Upside Down had long left, sinking away with the adrenaline that kept most of the pain at bay.
But now your arm was aching and your mind was slower, foggier; and moving felt like running through water. Catching Steve’s gaze was the only thing that seemed to ground you then, one hand catching your chin and he lifted your face to look at him, eyes searching.
“You okay?” He whispered it, as if he was terrified to hear the answer.
You were ready to nod again, for a third time but he caught you, fingers smoothing your hair back from your eyes and he looked at you almost pleadingly when he asked, “please, sweetheart, lemme hear you? I need to know if you’re alright, yeah?”
Your throat felt dry but you licked your lips and swallowed, hand reaching up to where he held you, fingers wrapping around his wrist as if he was the only thing that was giving you the strength to still stand. You were so tired.
“I’m okay,” you mumbled, voice cracking a little. “Exhausted.”
Steve nodded, a humourless smile on his lips and he pressed his forehead to yours, leaning down into you as you both sought out that little slice of home within a house that didn’t feel like it belonged to either of you.
“What ‘bout you?” Your words were pushed into his top lip, barely grazing but he felt you, warm and soft in front of him.
“Used to it,” he grimaced, chuckling when you rolled your eyes. He turned serious when he cupped the back of your neck, somehow bringing you impossibly closer. “Just please, please don’t do that again. Not for me.”
If you’d had the energy, you would’ve argued with him all night. You would’ve shoved at the boy, angry tears in your eyes, frustration biting at your skin before pulling him back into you and telling him how loved he was, how much you needed him. How you’d jump out of any boat, how you’d follow him to the ends of the earth if he needed your help.
But the shower was still running and the room was filled with heat and steam, making your clothes stick to your skin, the dirt and blood still caking both your bodies slick and itchy.
You didn’t know how to tell your best friend you loved him. How you were so in love with him that it hurt, it ached. It was a push and pull on your heart that you’d felt since you were fourteen, young and too dumb to understand that the boy next door was everything you ever needed.
So instead, you moved away from him, leaning tiredly against the wall and letting the corners of your lips lift into a smile that held just the right amounts of fight and attitude.
Your eyes were shining and you wondered if the boy looked hard enough, that he’d find all the love that you knew was held in your gaze.
“We’ve been making bad decisions together since 1972, Harrington. I’m not gonna stop now,” you grinned and he huffed, an almost laugh you were sure. “If you’re gonna make it a habit of throwing yourself into lakes, you better sure as hell expect me to follow.”
And that was that.
He nodded, pointing to the towels and backing towards the door. Your heart leapt, realising he was leaving you.
“Towels are there, just shout if you need me, yeah?” Steve caught your gaze, watching the tension in your body that had returned, the lock of your shoulders, the square of your jaw. “I’m gonna be right outside sweetheart, I’m not leaving, promise.”
If his words seemed familiar, neither of you mentioned it and the door clicked softly as it shut, leaving you alone.
Shedding your damp, dirty clothes made you feel a little better, the material pooling at your bare feet as you stepped out of them and into the shower. The hot spray stung at your cuts, bore down on your bones and made you ache in a new way, like you were being broken down and put back together again.
You leaned your forehead against the cool tiles, watching as the dirt and blood from your skin swirled down the drain and when you finally turned the shower off, you could hear soft voices from Steve’s room, dulled by the closed door but drawers were opening and shutting, a sure sign that the rest of your friends were freshly washed and stealing clean clothes from the boy too.
When you opened the door, Steve’s shirt was hanging to your knees, hiding the soft cotton shorts he’d given you and the boy was sitting on the edge of his bed, face still streaked with grime and blood, the cut on his brow and lip still angry.
“You should’ve cleaned yourself up,” you told him, frowning as you stepped into the pool of soft light that came from his bedside lamp. It lit the room up in a warm glow, a welcome change from red skies and shadows. “You must be freezing.”
“I told you I wasn’t leaving,” he shrugged, eyes searching your upper arm for your injuries, for any signs of pain or discomfort. He nodded to your shoulder, “How’s the arm?”
You shrugged back, pushing one foot into the plush carpet as you tried to avoid his heavy gaze. It made you feel too warm, like you didn’t know what to do with yourself and before you could brush him off, before you could lie and say you were fine, Steve reached out to grasp your hand, pulling you towards him.
He steadied you in the bracket of his spread legs, his knees on either side of your thighs and he still sat tall before you, his hands making quick work of softly pulling his sleeve up until it uncovered your upper bicep.
He tutted, eyes soft and his thumbs made gentle work of turning your arm this way and that as he inspected the wound. It was smaller now that it was clean, the filth and dried blood that had coated it making it seem worse and angrier than it was.
It still stung, a nip and prick on your skin when the cool air hit it but Steve pressed a quick kiss to the unmarred space below, a hot push of his lips that lit your body up, skin burning, eyes wide.
“There,” he mumbled, voice thick and if you didn’t know any better, you could’ve sworn the highs of his cheeks were turning pink. “All better.”
And shit, maybe it was.
You ate with the others as Steve showered, the distant sound of the running water the only thing that soothed you enough and allowed you to swallow down a slice or two of pizza, a chicken nugget that you smothered in ketchup. When Steve finally joined you all, hair clean and damp, on end from where he’d run a towel through it, he frowned at your near empty plate and slid another slice on it when you weren’t looking.
The five of you ate in silence, crowded around the breakfast bar, barely having the strength to pull out the stools as you all picked at the food Nancy made. You were all shoulder to shoulder, dressed in Steve’s clothes, sweatpants that hung off slim hips, shirts with too short sleeves and sweaters that hung off collar bones. Everyone smelled like apple shampoo, clean like body wash and laundry detergent, but the cuts were still on everyone’s skin, red and fresh, unable to be hidden.
And when the plates were empty, Steve batted you away from gathering them all up, planning to take them to the sink. You’d wondered if you could scrub away the blood that was still embedded under your fingernails, and fuck, you wondered who’s it was.
But Steve caught your hand, still gentle as he led you down the hall. Robin followed you both, passing Eddie as he threw himself onto a sofa, blanket in hand and shoving cushions under his head. Nancy disappeared, searching for the phone so she could call Jonathan, her eyes heavy with sleep.
It was easy to let Steve cajole you into the guest room and you stood tired and heavy on your own feet as the boy busied himself with pulling back the heavy duvet, launching the ridiculous amount of throw pillows to the floor.
Robin jumped in first, a noise of content purring at the back of her throat as she slipped between the sheets, head pushed into the plush pillow and her eyes fluttering closed.
You turned to Steve, panic settling into your chest once more at the thought of him leaving, of him walking back down the hall and up the stairs to his own room, a walk that practically took him to the other side of the house.
You wanted to ask him if you could stay with him, if he could take you by the hand again and lead you to his bed but you didn’t feel brave anymore, and he wasn’t asking you that question either.
You stared at him, eyes searching and beneath the strands of hair that fell across his eyes, you could see that he looked as troubled about it as you felt.
But he nodded to Robin, already half asleep and breathing softly. “You look after each other, yeah?” He tapped at your hand with his own, squeezing it briefly, a flash of warmth and comfort before he stepped back into the open door frame. “Come get me if you need anything, okay?”
You wanted to tell him to wait, to stop, to come back. You wanted to tell Steve that you needed him. But you were sure that if you parted your lips to speak, you’d only release the tears that were making your throat tight, your eyes sting.
You felt too small, too fragile and you were desperate to say something, anything. Steve was looking at you as if he was hoping for the same, like he could burst with all the unsaid things that buzzed and fizzed in the air between you.
But he wasn’t feeling all that brave either. Not right now.
So you smiled, watery and nodded, moving backwards until your knees hit the edge of the bed and Robin grumbled, reminding you both of her presence.
“Night Harrington,” you whispered, throat tight, eyes glassy.
You watched his neck bob and move as he swallowed, eyes holding just as much emotion as your own. He nodded too, willingly himself to back away from the door.
You tossed and turned for what seemed an age, Robin plastered up against your side and providing you with warmth and the soft sounds of snuffled breathing, her head pressed between her pillow and your shoulder. You wondered how she could sleep after the events that took place merely hours before, how the scrape across her cheek wasn’t stinging against the cotton.
There wasn’t a clock in the room to tell you the time but the sky outside was still dark, then night unmoving and still despite all the things you knew that roamed under the earth, in the depths of lakes and between shadows.
You were buzzing, an electric current that flowed through your body, keeping you awake and on edge. You wondered if it was residual adrenaline, maybe the looming threat of nightmares that promised to take you when you eventually closed your eyes.
Maybe it was just Steve, only a few rooms away.
The thought spurred you into action and with as much care as you could, you pulled away from Robin, smiling slightly when she mumbled her protests, still very much asleep. You pulled the duvet back over her as you slipped from the bed, toes pushed into the soft carpet and it softened your steps and as you headed for the door, leaving the room.
You could hear Eddie snoring from the couch, head tipped back and hair dripping messily over the arm, his lips parted, brow creased. You wondered how he’d coped with everything that had happened, how he’d managed to sleep so deeply so soon. He didn’t stir when you walked past, feet finding the stairs even in the dark, so very used to the house's layout after years of sneaking in and sneaking out.
You stood outside Steve’s room for what seemed like too long, the minutes stretching in, the night barely moving around you. You had raised your hand to knock several times, chickening out everytime, just before your knuckles met the wood. You felt like your heart was in your throat, too hot and too much.
You lifted your arm for the sixth time, chest hammering, stomach fluttering and before you could press your knuckles to the door, it opened, leaving you knocking on air before your gaze met Steve’s.
You stilled, lips parted.
The boy was shirtless, sleep mussed despite his eyes being bright and wide. He looked like he’d slept as much as you, hair misbehaving from where he’d dragged it across his pillows, seeking a comfortable spot that he could never find. His sweatpants hung low on his hips and there were some dinosaur themed plasters stuck haphazardly across his ribs, hiding cuts you never got a chance to care for.
No one spoke.
But you lowered your arm, wondering what you should say, wondering what he was still doing awake. Steve was looking at you like you were a dream, surprised and dazed, and he parted his lips to speak, stopping short when he realised he didn’t know what to say either.
Briefly, you considered asking him if he was okay, but you knew the answer, could read it in the way he looked at you, the way he held himself. You thought about telling him you didn’t mean to wake him, that you were sorry and were going back to bed, but there was something in his gaze that had you rooted to the spot, chest warm, breath coming in harsh pants.
The idea of telling him, your best friend, that you were in love with him, flickered through your mind and the mere thought of it made your tummy roll and dip. You shuffled from foot to foot, wondering if there was another way, if Steve could make it easy for you and read your mind instead.
He whispered your name, a soft noise that sounded like a prayer, a question, a promise all at once. It had your eyes flying to his, gazes locked and something passed between you both, a silent answer, an understanding, a ‘oh, thank god.’
You moved at the same time, you think. A push and pull of two bodies, meeting in the middle, as natural as the tide. He found your hand between you both, grasping in the dark and he tugged you to him as you surged forward, a clash in his door frame, a heavy sigh, a blissed out swear.
Your lips found his easily, his own searching for yours as one of his hands tucked itself across your jaw, fingers splayed messy across your cheekbone, his thumb pulling impatiently at your bottom lip, asking for you to give him more.
You obliged immediately, the kiss deep and slow and languid. It filled your body with heat, it made your toes curl, it made you push yourself further into the boy until your grip on each other left crescent shaped moons on the other's skin, nails raking through hair, fingers pulling at clothes.
You sighed into him, relief and wonder and Steve swallowed your sounds, groaning at your noises, at the way you were pulling him down to you, desperate for more, for everything, for all of it.
You barely registered moving, his hands cupping each side of your jaw as you stumbled together, chests meeting, feet clumsy as you moved into his room, Steve’s hand only leaving you to push the door shut before pressing you against it.
You weren’t sure if it was the underlying threat of danger, of losing each other all night or simply the decade of growing up together, tension building, bodies blooming, curious stares that turned into lingering gazes over new milestones and hot Indiana summers.
You weren’t sure why it felt the way it did, Steve’s lips on yours, his tongue licking into your mouth, his hands heavy and wandering, pulling up the hem of the shirt that he gave you palms seeking out smooth, bare skin. You had never had a chance to thread your fingers through his hair so roughly, tugging with confidence, as if you already knew he liked it.
You weren’t sure why it felt so familiar, so natural, like it was some cosmic event that was just waiting to happen, a comet waiting to fall, a star waiting to burst.
His kiss felt like magic, like kismet, like home.
Steve Harrington was mint chocolate chip ice cream, the smell of sunscreen and old arcades, cherry slurpees and Coca Cola, sleepovers on bedroom floors, bike rides without training wheels, first trips to the beach, old cassettes passed between classes, notes in your locker, smiley faces inked into the palm of your hand during lunch.
He was a first crush, last love, favourite kiss, first good morning, last goodnight, twirling your fingers around the phone cord, late night chats, and sneaking through your window.
He was picking you up. Breath heavy and chest heaving as you wrapped your legs around him, both oblivious to the aches and pains the press of your bodies brought you both. It all felt too good, too fucking good to let go of. You pressed closer, his hands under your ass, fingers digging into your flesh and your back was against the door, pushing your moans and sighs into each other's lips.
It was too easy to fall into him, a lifetime of trust there as he smoothed a hand over your bare thigh, snuck his fingers under the hem of your shirt and swore at the discovery of more bare skin underneath, tracing the dips and curves of your body.
The kiss slowed and stuttered, stopping as Steve pulled back just a fraction, just enough for his nose to graze against yours and he found your gaze, both of your eyes hooded and heavy, watching each other through your lashes. You were panting, chests pressed together and heaving, puffs of hot air brushing across the others lips.
You thumbed at his cheek, an affection press of your fingers against his face and he turned, pushing a kiss into your palm that you wished you could peel away and keep forever.
His eyes were still on you, searching for an answer, a question, maybe even regret. He didn’t find any of the latter and when he whispered your name, voice wrecked, you nodded, giving him everything he wanted to ask.
You moved when Steve did, carrying you easily from your perch against the door and across his dark room, the only light coming from the split in the curtains, the open window letting in the summer air, still heavy in the night and the glow from the moon.
He kicked a shoe out of the way, lips finding yours again as his knees hit the bed, bringing you both down until he pressed you into the mattress, sheets tangled and smelling of him. Steve moved over you, knee between your legs, hitched up into the apex of your thighs and you gasped at the friction, the solid weight of it pressed against you.
His arms caged you in, his hands braced on either side of your head as he kept too much of his weight off of you, scared to go too fast too soon. But you let out a soft sound, a whine, a plea; and you reached for him, hand at the back of his neck as you dragged him back down to you, kiss messy and desperate.
You felt like you were going to float away, like you’d open your eyes and you’d still be sitting in the barren landscape of another world, Steve in a chokehold and monsters clawing you apart.
But Steve sighed, soft and pleading, your fingers diving into the hair at the nape of his neck and as you silently told him, more, harder, more, please.
He took the hint, hands roaming, kisses turning heated, with more pressure and bite and the tears of build up burst for you both, an outpouring of crushes and tension, jealousy and what ifs, experiencing lust and falling in love.
His hands found your sides, fingertips walking up the steps of your ribs before smoothing across your bare skin, nothing under his shirt. He grazed a thumb over your nipple, both of you groaning at the feel of it, a new shock of pleasure for you to share together.
The boy pulled back, forehead against yours and eyes squeezed shut as if he was in pain, as if it was all too much. He spoke against your mouth, words rushing across the part in your lips and each syllable felt like another kiss.
“Sweetheart, you gotta tell me if you wanna stop,” he was whispering, voice low and rushed, “I don’t wanna fuck this up, don’t wanna go too fast…”
You shook your head, back arching to press yourself along the length of him, hard against your bare thigh, Steve’s shorts rucked up to the highest point of your leg.
“No, no,” you were panting, voice a high and a little desperate and you would’ve been embarrassed if he wasn’t looking at you like you were the entire fucking world. “Steve, please, please don’t stop.”
His lips came back down on yours at that, greedy and pushy, urging you to open for him and you did, easily, keening into him, legs spreading so he could fall into the cradle of your thighs. His hand still stroked over your skin, underneath the shirt, thumb circling over your breast, running down your side, lifting at the hem of your shorts.
You felt dizzy.
“Take it off,” you mumbled, your request mixed in with kisses, lips, teeth and tongue, but the boy got the hint, swearing as he pressed his mouth into your neck and leaned back enough to pull your top off of you.
His lips parted at the sight, another sigh leaving him, eyes hooded and dark as he took you in. You gave him no time for recovery, wiggling prettily against his sheets and his body as you shuffled out of the shorts, dragging the material down your leg and kicking them away.
Steve rocked back onto his knees, jaw slack, hair mussed from your hands and lips rosy from yours. He whispered your name, took his hand and dragged it from your knee to your thigh, gripping at the curves there, staring at how you put yourself on show for him.
“Can I touch you?“ he asked, voice reverent, breaking halfway through his question, like he could barely keep himself together.
You nodded, teeth biting into your bottom lip, body tensed in anticipation.
“Words, sweetheart,” Steve reminded you, “c’mon.”
You gasped at the sensation of his fingers curling into your inner thigh, lifting your leg over his so he could prop you up and spread you out, eyes hungry and disbelieving.
He felt like he was going insane.
“Jesus, yes, Steve,” you groaned, a little impatient, your hands pulling at his, pushing them across the small curve of your tummy, down to where you were desperate.
He fell apart when his fingers swept through you, cursing at how wet you were, telling you how soft you felt. He thumbed at your clit, quickly leaning down and pressing his lips back to yours when you keened loudly, your appreciation ringing out across the house.
Steve kissed away the noise, soothed you down from your frantic reaction and he dipped a finger into you, groaning against you as he slipped one inside, a second joining quickly.
You were overwhelmed, hands grabbing at his hair as he pressed open mouthed kisses to your jawline, smoothing his lips over your neck, sucking a bruise there, biting at the skin before running his tongue over the marks he made.
You were pushing at the waistband of his sweatpants, grinding down against his hand, his fingers moving a little faster as they brought you to the edge, far too quickly.
“Easy, easy,” he soothed, voice hushed, eyes lit up at how you responded to him, “I got you babe, c’mon.”
But you shook your head, hands desperate as they dove beneath the cotton of his trousers, finding him hard and heavy for you, Steve swearing profusely as you pumped him once, twice, in your hand.
“Not yet,” you told him, voice shaking, eyes glassy, “want you.”
You heard his breath stutter, his fingers slipping from you, only to glide over your clit again, pressure building at each stroke. You whimpered, grip tightening around him and thumb swiping at his head.
He looked like he was unravelling.
“You gotta stop, I’m not gonna last long,” Steve murmured, voice gone, rough and hoarse. He licked his lips, looking down at you as he ran his hands up your body, gripping you at the waist and pulling you into him. “Not with you, not when you look like that.”
But you were desperate, needing to feel him, over you, on you, in you. Maybe it was the way you were looking at him, bottom lip jutted, eyes glassy, skin still marked up from your cuts and his teeth. Maybe it was when you pulled him down into you, lips at his ear telling him, “I’m already close too.”
He gave into you. You made it easy.
His sweatpants hit his bedroom floor, a soft thud against the drawers of his dresser, neither of you looking to see where they landed. His lips were on you again, body flush, skin warm and Steve was mouthing at your jaw, your neck as you tilted your head back, giving him everything he wanted.
You brought your knees up to his sides, caging him and he crowded into you, one forearm on the pillow by your head, holding himself over you as the other smoothed over your cheek, into your hair and you communicated through soft gazes and parted lips, a tilt of your head, a hand on his chest, as he pushed into you.
It took everything you had not to moan too loud, biting down on the muscles of Steve’s shoulder instead, the boy sighing, muscles taught, staying still. He gave you both a minute, his hand dropping to your waist, the curve of your ass before lighting up your skin, trailing fire down your thigh and hooking his fingers underneath your knee. He hitched your leg to his side, thigh pulled high as he opened you for him, the slick slid of both of you making it easier to move.
Steve set a slow pace, agonising as it was amazing, both of you blissed out and lips parted, the summer air painting a sheen over your skin, stray hairs stuck to flushed cheeks, eyes heavy and hooded. He moved over you like he’d done it before, head bent, lips brushing almost lazy against your own, as if kissing you was already second nature, as if he should’ve been doing this all along.
You bit back a sound, a tight huff that made Steve snap his hips, making both of you stutter and swear. You could tell the boy was growing impatient, tightly wound and ready to snap but he was holding back, holding on, waiting for you.
Pushing yourself up, you grabbed at him, hands slick on his skin as you gripped his shoulders and he got the hint, lips curling into a smile that made your heart thump and he grabbed at your ass, rocking back onto his knees until you were seated on top of him.
He took the chance to push your hair back from your face, kiss you slow and deep, hands squeezing at your ass, sliding over the small of your back as he held you to him and you couldn’t help it anymore, couldn’t wait, couldn’t stop. Not when he felt so deep, so good.
You rolled your hips, gasping when the movement caught him off guard, made him bite down on your bottom lip. He hissed, eyes wide as he looked down between your bodies, watching your hips move over him, rocking, grinding and taking him in over and over again.
“Jesus christ,” he whispered and he sounded fervent, voice swallowed by the whimpers and moans that fell from your mouth. “Fuck, you’re too pretty, too much,” he puncuated each word with a press of his lips, pushing kisses to your cheeks, you jaw, your neck and shoulders.
“You close?” Steve asked, mouth agape as you started to move quicker, hips stuttering with impatience and greed and you almost sobbed when he clutched at your tighter, one arm around your waist as he helped you move, leaning you back as he thrust into you, his other hand dropping between you, thumb rubbing tight circles over you.
You hummed, nodding frantically, hands grasping at his broad shoulders, his neck, crying out as you tightened around him and Steve swore, head tilted back and eyes clenched shut at the sensation. He gathered you to him, arms wrapped around you and he let you both fall back into the mess of sheets and pillows, hand out to catch you both as he moved another once, twice, three times, into you, hips stuttering, all rhythm lost.
He fell when you did, eyes shut, stars blinking behind lids, the world warm and hazy. You clutched at each other, hand petting and soothing over damp skin and smoothing back hair, mouths panting out hot air into the crook of the other’s neck. You pressed kisses to his jaw, stubble rasping over your cheeks in a way that you decided you loved, skin flushed and sticky.
It took a second or two, before Steve realised you were both shaking, limbs liquid, voices gone. Carefully, as not to hurt you, he pulled back, slipping out from between your legs and you exhaled at the loss, hands reaching out to him in the dark and he found your fingers, twisting them between your own as he fell onto the bed beside you, chest still heaving.
You wondered when it would feel awkward, if at all. If the inevitable moment of regret would hit, a common feeling after having sex with your best friend, you were sure. But it never came, the moment stayed warm, familiar, safe. Steve turned to you, slipping the sheets over both of you, pressing a kiss to your palm and pulling you into the heat of his chest.
You fit just under his chin, the perfect height to place your lips on his collar bone, dropping kisses along the line of it, legs tangled.
“I feel like this is normally the part when one of us says we’ll need to talk about this, y’know?” Steve murmured, his lips pressed to the crown of your head. His thumb soothed over your ribs, dancing across your skin in a way that made you feel heavy, melting into him. “But I get the feeling that you might feel the same way I do.”
The boy’s voice cracked a little at that, and he cleared his throat, ducking his head into you as if he was scared to see your reaction, as if you were ever going to tell him he’d got the wrong idea.
You hummed, a soft noise of agreement and you pulled back a little in his arms, just enough where you could nudge at his nose with your own, silently asking him to meet your gaze. You found his eyes, brown and warm like honey, but looking so conflicted, so unsure.
You brushed your nose against his again, once, twice, soft, slow.
“Would it help if I said it first?” You asked quietly.
Steve didn’t reply but you felt him hold his breath, his chest still and tight against yours, both of you still bare, warmed by the other, slick from sex. You continued despite his silence, knowing the boy well enough by now that despite the bravado and confidence he had throughout high school, he was fucking terrifed of what could possibly be rejection.
You saw him swallow hard, adam’s apple bobbing and if you didn’t know the boy any better you might have laughed. ‘Cause you were naked and in his arms, your bare chest pressed against his, his leg wedged between your naked thighs and you’d jumped off a boat for him earlier, swam to another dimension to save his life.
But it was Steve, the boy whose family left him alone, the boy who looked after everyone before himself. So you shifted from his arms, catching the way his eyes widened in panic, as if you were going to get dressed and hightail it out of his bedroom window.
You soothed him, hand stroking over his cheek and you smiled when he realised your intentions, crawling over his body and settling yourself onto his lap again. Your thighs spread themselves over his, leaning down and into him as he propped himself against the messy pile of pillows at his headboard.
His palms smoothed over your thighs, a solid and warm weight that gave you more comfort than he knew, making you feel a little braver as you crowded into him, hands pushing back his wild hair, nose bumping against his.
You cradled his face, hands on the strong line of his jaw, tilting his head for him as you brought your lips back to his, a soft press of your lips that turned into a demanding kiss, a little force and heat behind it as you wished and prayed for him to feel the way you did for him. You left him breathless, a mess underneath you, hands gripping your legs, lips parted, eyes wide.
“Hey, Harrington?” You whispered, lips brushing over his in an almost kiss that he tried to chase. He hummed at you, answering without words. “I’ve never felt this way before and I’m terrified, to be honest.”
It felt a lot like saying I love you, and Steve must’ve understood cause he gaped at you, brown eyes shining in the dark and he brought his arms around you, pulling you down and into him in a hug that engulfed you.
He spoke into your hair, eyes closed and the dark of the night making him feel brave. “Fuck, yeah, same.” He cleared his throat, voice thick, “Yeah, I know what you mean.”
“I don’t wanna lose you,” you started, voice quiet and small and the boy was quick to bring your face to his, eyes serious when he interrupted.
“You won’t,” he choked out, “shit, sweetheart, you could never.”
“Yeah?” You sniffed, eyes glassy and god, you were overwhelmed. By the night, by Steve, by his lips, his bed, his body against yours. “Promise?”
No one said anything the next morning.
Not Robin when she woke up in the guest room alone, your pillow cold. Not Nancy when she passed you both leaving Steve’s room as she left the bathroom, his shirt swallowing your frame, your shorts on his bedroom floor.
She had smiled at you both, knowing, looking at your sleep mussed hair, soft smiles and marked up neck, Steve’s hand on the small of your back as he led you downstairs. Eddie followed your joined hands from where he was still sprawled across the couch, chest bare, rings glinting in the morning light. He grinned, laughing quietly when he caught Robin’s eye behind you both, shrugging when she shushed him.
It felt like a new day, a fresh start, a second chance.
The idea of defeating whatever this monster was, working out what it was that he wanted with you all, keeping the kids safe, helping your friends. It all felt a little less impossible than the day before. Your arm still stung, a dull ache that reminded you of the fights that had already been lost, but Steve was pressed against your back as you cracked some eggs into a pan, a breakfast for all of you, his arms around your waist and his chin resting on top of your head.
He pressed a kiss there and you decided that he made it feel a whole lot easier than it should.
Night at the Opera
Marc Spector x Reader, Steven Grant x Reader, Jake Lockely x Reader
A/N: I don’t usually write smut and this is basically my first piece of smut but this idea had been stuck in my head. Feedback is much appreciated, I love hearing you guys’ thoughts on what you liked! Hope y’all enjoy!
Summary: Marc surprises you with tickets to see Phantom of the Opera for your birthday. But after seeing you in the new dress that you got yourself, the men begin to have other plans in mind.
Warnings: 18+ smut, language, fingering in public, teasing, jealous Marc, Marc saying filthy shit, Jake being an absolute deviant, and Steven being the complete simp that he is.
“Marc come on, you have got to tell me where you’re taking me. First the special dinner now this. You know I hate surprises.” You pleaded with a teasing tone in your voice, turning to face your husband who’s vision stayed centered on the lamp lit road of the street ahead as the wind blew against you from having the top of his convertible down. Your eyes traced the profile of his face, following the slope of his nose that you loved so much before lingering on the darkness of his thick brows and long lashes which you secretly envied that paired perfectly with those deep brown eyes of his that reminded you of thick woods in the midst of dusk. All of that belonging to the face of the man you came to love and cherish with all your being. A smile softly sat on your lips as you watched how the amber glow of the street lamps would replace the sunset that claimed the bronze, magenta, and violet brushstrokes of the forthcoming night sky every time you drove under one of them, the luminescence dancing across his face in playful patterns of light that painted his olive skin in streaks of gold. God you could stare at him all day, a literal work of art comparable to the statues sculpted by the hands of Michelangelo himself. Perfection. God’s work at his finest.
“Sorry y/n.” Marc shook his head with a smirk playing on those pink lips of his despite the pout you gave him. “You’re just gonna have to wait.”
“You are such an ass.” You laughed with a scoff, throwing your head back against the seat in the most slightest irritation with your elbow propped up on the car door. You closed your eyes for a brief moment, enjoying the cool evening breeze against your bare skin until the soft sound of the radio made you perk up. “Oh wait I love this song!” You almost jumped out of your seat, reaching over to the radio to turn the volume up as one of Lana Del Rey’s familiar tunes played through the speakers. Singing along to the lyrics of Brooklyn Baby, you threw your hands up above you, a grin plastered on your face as your body swayed to the music. “They say I'm too young to love you! I don't know what I need! They think I don't understand! The freedom land of the seventies!”
“God she’s absolutely stunning, isn’t she Marc?” Steven breathed out in awe from the reflection of the rear view mirror.
Marc glanced over at you, an adoring smile on his lips at the sight of you losing yourself to the music. He had always loved the sound your voice whenever you spoke, finding it to be the very medicine for those days where it felt as if the whole world was against him. But after hearing you sing for the first time, something which you rarely did especially around those you barely knew, Marc and Steven only found themselves falling ever more deeply in love with you. And god you looked absolutely beautiful right now, with your skin glowing against the warm glow of the sunset and the radiant smile on your face while your hair blew in the breeze, wearing the new Tiffany diamond drop earrings along with the matching necklace Marc got you that sparkled against your complexion. You were the embodiment of an angel, a goddess, and till this very day he still had no idea how he had ever managed to get you to be his wife, the woman whom he was willing to worship the very floor you walked on and give his own life for. How you ever had happened to see something in a man such as him was beyond him. And though Marc still found himself dwelling on the thought, especially after he revealed his soul and you accepted who he truly was, Steven and all, words could not describe how grateful and happy he was to just be be with you and wake up to your face every morning.
“Well, my boyfriend's in a band! He plays guitar while I sing Lou Reed! I've got feathers in my hair! I get down to Beat poetry! And my jazz collection's rare! I can play most anything! I'm a Brooklyn baby! I'm a Brooklyn baby!” You sang out in tune, your voice ringing out in a clear melody while you reached your arm out to lovingly place your hand at Marc’s broad shoulder. Smoothing your fingers across the fabric of his tux, you traced your maroon almond shaped nails up the length of his jaw, drawing a line up along the curve and running your fingers through the softness of his hair before resting your palm at the nape of his neck where you drew small circles on the skin that laid there. Marc turned to you at the gesture from the way his neck became warm under the pads of your soft fingertips, staring into your bright eyes before lowering his head to press his lips to your wrist, eliciting a smile from your red painted lips once you saw him place a kiss on the skin there which filled your whole arm with the warmth of his love.
“We’re approaching our destination here pretty soon so I’m going to need you to close your eyes baby.”
“Ugh you are incredibly extra, you know that.” You gave a playful roll of your eyes before closing them, earning yourself a small chuckle from Marc.
“Hey no cheating alright. Or Imma have to blindfold ya.”
“Oof. Don’t threaten me with a good time.” You smirked, feeling the car come to a stop and using your hearing to sense Marc get out from the driver seat before the passenger door being opened.
“Watch your step.” Marc teased as he looked down at you, chuckling at the way you had your eyes completely squeezed shut to avoid suspicion.
“Haha. Very funny.” Your replied sarcastically to his teasing little antics, something that the two of you had been known to do ever since the day you first met due to your clashing stubborn personalities.
After grabbing your purse from your lap, you felt Marc’s hand wrap around your forearm to help you up while his other hand placed itself firmly on your back to steady you. "That's it. Atta girl."
Holding onto his arm for balance, you pulled yourself out of your seat and stepped onto the sidewalk, smoothing down your hair before interlocking your arm with his as he led you through. “So how much longer exactly am I supposed to blindly trust you to lead me to your very special surprise which you absolutely refuse to tell me?”
“Not long. We’re almost there.”
“You know.” You smirked as you walked alongside him with your heels clicking against the cement, lowering your voice to a whisper. “Last time I was blindfolded it involved silk and I nearly kneed you in the face AND cracked my head on the headboard.”
“You are never going to let me live that down are you.” Marc’s smirk matched the one that settled on your lips.
“Okay, we’re here.” Marc stopped you, barely able to hold his own excitement as he placed his hands on both of your shoulders. “You can open them now.”
Fluttering your eyes open, Marc stood beside you to watch every detail of your reaction as your eyes slowly widened in wonder at the elaborate building in front of you before, the lights sparkling against your eyes as you finally read the sign that was displayed with a gasp. “YOU BOUGHT TICKETS FOR PHANTOM OF THE OPERA?!” You squealed, your face still written with the expression of shock as you snapped your head towards Marc who only beamed down at you with that smile of his that you loved so much where his eyes would form crinkles at the end, holding up two tickets between his fingers.
“Happy birthday darling!” Steven popped in, a look of pure admiration on his face as he absorbed the happiness that you radiated.
“Aaah! Steven! Thank you thank you thank you!” You threw your arms around his neck in the purest joy, engulfing him in the tightest hug you could muster up and nearly knocking him over as Steven chuckled in response, his chest vibrating against yours as he wrapped his strong arms around your back and pulled you against him.
“Happy birthday baby.” Marc murmured against the skin of your shoulder as he smiled, inhaling your alluring scent that he associated as home as he placed another soft kiss to your temple, letting his lips linger there before pulling away to look at you. "You ready?"
"You kidding? I've been waiting for this my whole life. How did you know? Was this you and Steven’s idea?”
"Eh we both had a little work in it. Now what kind of husband would I be if I didn't know my own wife."
"Marc Spector," You smiled up at him, running your hands up the smoothness of his tux before adjusting his bow tie, “how can I ever thank you."
“You don’t have to.” Marc brushed the front strands of your hair back with his fingers before stroking the soft skin of your cheek. His rich mahogany orbs stared deeply into your e/c ones before flickering down to your red lips, his large hand resting at the back of your neck as he leaned in to kiss you, muttering against your lips. "Because tonight is all about you."
You were practically shaking with excitement after you entered the building as you gazed around at the intricate decor of the opera house, from the gold baroque details and the paintings that hung on the walls, down to the formal attire that the women wore as they moved about the place. And though you managed to compose yourself as perfectly as possible by maintaining your posture and all that, it could not stop your face from betraying you. While you were preoccupied with the grandeur around you, Marc’s eyes were solely focused on you, drinking in the way you looked with the pure delight that painted across your features. And as Marc passed the time being fully immersed in your spark, he began to notice the many eyes that followed you from the men around you, their eyes stalking your form like a pack of hungry hyenas. And though Marc was rarely ever the jealous man, or so he thought himself to be, he could not help the tense and hot sensation that spread through his muscles as he slipped his arm around your waist, his hand brushing softly against the skin of your back as he pulled you closer to him. His hand rested at the top of your hip, his jaw clenching ever so tightly as he glared at the man who even laid a single glance your way. It was as if they were completely oblivious to the diamond wedding ring nestled on your finger that caught the light wherever you went, a flashy reminder that you were his woman.
“This is it.” Marc pulled back a red velvet curtain before gesturing to a pair of seats that overlooked the balcony and the theatre underneath.
You gasped, taking in the two red velvet chairs that sat next to each other facing the stage below. “You got box seats?!”
“Thought we could use some privacy while getting a good view at the same time. After all, it’s your birthday and your night beautiful.”
“Marc you shouldn’t have. These must’ve cost-“ You stared at him with wide eyes, on the verge of going into your little rambles of concern before Marc silenced you with a kiss.
“It’s nothing, really. Now we wouldn’t want to miss the show now would we.”
“Tsk.” You smacked him playfully with your purse before heading in.
Marc followed after you as you went, his eyes slyly lowering down your exposed back and watching the way your hips swayed effortlessly with each step you took, your black silk dress fitting perfectly on your hips and moving in waves with every movement. It wasn’t until the two of you got seated that Marc drank you in like the wine of the gods, appreciating more of the beauty that was you as he set his arm up on the back of the seat, casually watching the way you brushed your hair to the side to expose your neck as you leaned forward to rest your forearms on the rail of the balcony, stretching out your back while your breasts hung underneath the cowl neckline of your dress that stopped just at the valley of your chest. Marc's dark eyes trailed every inch of you as if he were about to paint your portrait, from the way your diamond earrings hung down the length of your neck, twinkling against the dim lamps like the many stars that filled the night sky before following his gaze down the line of your back where the delicate silver backdrop necklace you wore cascaded down your middle like a crystallized drop of rain, ending with a small pear shaped moonstone that settled itself right the lower curve of your back, drawing wandering eyes to the very same spot. He vividly remembered seeing you in that dress for the first time, the way it draped perfectly over your form and made his breath get caught in his throat.
You shifted in your seat, aware of the way your husband's eyes were on you as you moved your leg out from under the slit of your dress that stopped near the top of your thigh, the slightest smirk playing on your lips from the way you could almost sense the way he felt.
"Bloody hell." Steven's voice echoed within Marc's mind as he bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes moving up the smooth skin of your thigh as he shared the same exact thoughts that ran through Steven’s mind. God they wished they could just have you right then and there, bent over the balcony like that with your dress hiked up to your waist. And though ever fiber in their being wanted to ravish ever single inch of you, they couldn’t. It was your night and they wanted to make sure you enjoyed every moment of the performance you had been waiting to see ever since you were a teen.
“How’s Steven by the way?” You spoke up, the faintest hint of a teasing tone laced in your voice though you acted as innocently as possible.
He swore you could read his mind sometimes, Marc thought to himself after hearing your statement. “He’s fine.”
“Well I hope he gets to enjoy the show as well.”
“Oh don’t worry. We’ve got it all sorted out.” Marc gave you a reassuring look before pulling out his small metal case of cigarillos. He needed something to calm his nerves for a bit, especially with the way you were making him feel. Placing the cigarillo between his lips, Marc put the tin away and brought out his lighter only to see you reach out and pluck it away.
“I thought you quit.” You raised your brow.
Marc looked at you amusingly as you instead placed the cigarillo between your own lips, maintaining your eye contact with him as you did so. With a small smirk at your little antic, he reached over and held the lighter to the end of the cigarillo, lighting up the end of it before closing up the lighter with a click and slipping it back into his pocket.
You held the cigarillo between your two fingers, crossing your bare leg over your knee and reclining back in your seat, making sure to arch your back in order to puff your chest out a little to draw his eyes there before pulling the cigarillo out and letting the smoke leave your lips.
Marc was at first captured by your cleavage from the way you settled in your seat, his eyes following the soft curve of your breasts hidden beneath the tantalizing silk of your dress before he became fixated on the cigarillo nestled between the scarlet red petals of your lips, watching the way you held the thing between your slender fingers before pulling it out as the smoke escaped from your mouth. You looked like you could have belonged as one of the Bond Girls of the 60s, from the soft curls of your hair, to your cat eye makeup, to your sultry red lips, down to your backless dress and the black suede high heeled sandals that you wore. He almost could not blame the men that glanced your way, for you truly were a sight to behold. But even then, that did not change how he felt. You were his. Only his and no one else’s. And as you handed Marc back his cigarillo with your lipstick stain on the wrapper, all Marc could do was chuckle with a slight shake of his head. You were definitely going to be the death of him.
“What?” You raised your brow at his countenance, thinking he was laughing at you for some odd reason.
“Nothing, nothing.” Marc smirked before setting the cigarillo back between his lips, right over where your lipstick stain was. “Just think you look beautiful tonight.”
“You’ve said that a bunch of times now.” You let out a silvery laugh, throwing your head back as you did so.
“I mean it. You’re absolutely stunning.”
“Well you look quite dapper yourself.” You rolled your eyes before reaching over to place a quick kiss on his jaw. Settling back in your seat, you found yourself to be the one staring at him now, watching the way he held the cigarillo between his long fingers before taking it out, noticing the thin strand of saliva that pulled with it as he blew the smoke out. God how you craved his lips to be somewhere else, somewhere more delicate, from that spot on your neck to the one between your legs, his cheeks brushing against your thighs and your fingers tangled in his curls. But god was he gorgeous. He reminded you so much of the likes of those old noir actors that you used to fawn over and it drove you absolutely crazy. He knew exactly what he was doing. It was not too long ago when Steven had offered to strap on your new heels that he had bought for you after your old ones broke, remembering the way he lowered himself to his knees before wrapping his hands delicately around your ankle and calf to pull your foot up onto his thigh, his fingers running along the skin of your ankle as he fastened the strap around it while his eyes occasionally flickered up to meet yours. Did Marc teach him that? You may never know. But oh the things it did to you.
Before you knew it, you were snapped back into your current reality by the playing of the orchestra as the curtains opened to reveal the stage and the set up behind it. Like a child at a candy shop, you leaned forward in your seat, unable to hold back your grin as the actors appeared on stage, beginning the performance and belting out the songs. You could practically have sung along with them you had listened to the soundtrack so many times. Minutes had passed by, and you only got more engrossed in the musical as time went on, admiring the costumes, the music you held so dearly to your heart and just the overall effort that went to putting together the production and nearly squealing once the phantom appeared on stage. But though your focus remained entirely on the lit stage with your eyes following the actors, something, or rather someone had distracted you as you felt a warm hand on the bare skin of your knee, slowly making its way up. With furrowed brows, not quite fully aware of what was going on, you turned your head to Marc slowly, surprised that he would do something like this in public only to be met with the eyes of someone other than your husband.
“No pensaste que esto era lo único que recibirías esta noche, ¿verdad? (You didn’t think this was the only thing you’d get tonight, did you?).”
“Jake?” You nearly scoffed. Of course he would be the one to pull something as scandalous as this, not that you were surprised or even complaining at the matter. You could not help but be nervous at the thought of performing an act such as this in public considering the formal setting, despite the adrenaline that now ran through your veins. After all, Marc and Steven only kept things inside the walls of your own home. But this, this was complete foreign land for you. And if you were being honest with yourself, deep down, you were even a bit thrilled, eager to try something daring and new.
“Jake, what about-“ you tried to reason, referring to the people in the booths next to you and praying their view was as obstructed as possible, but your words came short. There was only one thing on your mind now and only one way to relieve it.
“No te preocupes muñeca, estás en buenas manos. (Don’t worry doll, you’re in good hands.)” Jake lowered his voice to a whisper, his eyes hungrily roaming up your body and smirking at way your chest shuddered with every breath you took as he kept moving his hand almost excruciatingly slow up your thigh. He could just have you all to himself, Jake thought as he zoned in on the goosebumps forming across your skin that only raised in temperature beneath the palm of his hand. But he couldn’t, not now at least. This was your night. The way that Jake’s hand barely moved an inch in the time that he was there, torturing you with just how slowly he moved higher up your thigh caused you to bite your lip in response, unconsciously shifting in your seat as a heat started to pool in the pit of your stomach and between your thighs. Jake leaned in to place his lips at your ear, nipping at your lobe as he did so. “Solo necesitaba darles un buen empujón a los muchachos. (I just needed to give the guys a good push.)”
Did they plan this? You thought to yourself. Could they all have taken a part in this? Or was Jake just the instigator. You began to feel a bit guilty with yourself, a part of you wanting Jake to stay just so you could find out how he operated while he whispered shit to you in Spanish. But despite your internal desires, you needed Marc and Steven the most.
And with a devilish smile that glinted in his dark eyes, Jake left, replacing himself with Marc who stopped at the softness of your inner thighs, drawing patterns on the skin there underneath the pads of his fingers, a smirk settling on his lips at the way you squirmed under his touch. He had not even reached that spot you yearned for yet and you were already starting to fall apart underneath his fingers.
Marc you sly dog, you thought to yourself after noticing the smirk that sat on his pink lips. He had to have known.
“Marc?” You rasped out, your breathing steadily growing quicker by every lingering minute he did not make a further move.
“Shh.” Edging his way closer, he ran his fingers up the lace of your panties, hooking the lacy fabric under his fingers with a sly smile. “These feel new. I’ll have to take a better look at them when this is all over.” And with that he slipped his hand under the waistband, running his fingers up your folds and eliciting a gasp from your lips. Your gasp was like music to Marc’s ears, and the way he was so quickly able to draw out a sound from you only made him hum the lowest, most inaudible moan that you barely were able to catch with your ears. “Oh baby, all this for me? I wasn’t prepared for you to be this wet. You should’ve given me some kind of a warning.” He breathed out a low groan, his breath hot against your neck as he gently bit the skin underneath your ear before replacing the spot with a wet kiss.
God that threw you over the edge, the way he rasped out those very words with his hand shoved down your panties, his fingers barely moving against the skin there. You clutched the edge of your seat, your knuckles turning white from its grip as you slightly moved your hips against his fingers, whimpering as you did so and wishing he would stop being such a tease and just get on with what he started.
“Hush now.” Marc leaned in to whisper into your ear, inhaling your perfume like a feral animal with their prey trapped between their claws. Just your scent alone was able to get him intoxicated, as if you were the only thing to get him to such a state of euphoria that left him unable to process a single thought.
“Marc…….please.” You pleaded between broken breaths that shook your entire torso with half shut eyes and your brows knit together.
“I’m sorry baby but you’re gonna have to be more clear. Can’t really hear you over the opera.”
With the slyest smirk playing upon his lips, Marc pressed his thumb against your clit, moving along the area in circular motions which only elicited another gasp from the back of your throat, this one louder than the last. “You’re gonna have to be more quiet than that. Wouldn’t want the others to hear now would we. After all, these tickets weren’t cheap and I’d hate for you to miss the rest of the performance.“
“Damn you Marc.”
“Damn me?” Marc raised his brow, his forehead pressed against your temple as he murmured in your ear in that low raspy voice of his that made your head spin. “Oh sweetheart. You don’t think I knew what you were doing? Wearing this new dress of yours knowing damn well how much Steven and I would get riled up just seeing you in it. The way you would occasionally curve your back and move your hair to the side and bring out your leg, flashing just the appropriate amount of skin just to get us going. Or the lipstick stains on the wine glass and my cigarillo knowing how much I would prefer it around something else.” Marc persisted with the circular movements, taunting you only further by keeping his fingers outside. “Let’s not forget poor ole Steven. He nearly drove himself up the wall being on his knees and strapping on your heels for you. All this effort when all you had to do was ask.”
“P-please.” You let out a small whine, begging for him to slide his fingers into you.
“Oh, you mean here?” Marc hovered his two fingers over the area you needed him most, the tips of his fingers just barely grazing against the skin there.
“Mhm.” You hummed with a nod, slightly bucking your hips up against his hand in anticipation.
Marc slowly slid his two fingers inside you, his eyes trained on your face as you nearly collapsed at the sensation, your head thrown back against the chair and your red lips parted open as you shut your eyes in pure bliss against the way he pumped his long fingers in a fluid motion. “God you’re so fucking wet. And all for me.”
“Fuck.” You let out a hiss, grabbing Marc’s arm from the way he curled his fingers as he pulled out, your nails digging into the sleeve of his tux as his thumb remained on your clit.
“Shhh baby.” Marc pressed another sloppy kiss to your neck. “Imma need you to focus on the play now. Wouldn’t want to draw any attention. That’s my girl.”
You peeled your eyes open, training your gaze on the stage below despite the heaviness behind your lids and biting your lip to suppress a moan. You reached your hand out towards Marc, sliding your nails up the fabric of his pants before feeling him grab your wrist with his free hand.
“Tsk tsk. Now what did I say? Enjoy the performance baby. This night is ONLY about you.” Marc quickened the pace of his fingers, reveling in the way you looked at the moment, your skin glowing, your cheeks flushed pink, a dazed look in your eyes and your lips parted in ecstasy, releasing sounds that only he was able to make. His fingers played against you like an instrument, knowing just the right notes to elicit whatever sounds he wanted you to compose as if you were a cello. And though he wished to stay for longer, to ride you through your high, it was now time to let Steven have his turn.
“You’re doing amazing love.” Steven swiftly took over, his fingers moving delicately inside you as he let out the softest moan from how you felt around his fingers; warm and soft, closing his eyes in response before opening them back up to trace the details of your face. “God you’re beautiful.”
“Steven.” You let out a soft moan to acknowledge him, placing your hand at the back of his neck and gently stroking the hair at his nape. “Shit. I think….I think I’m gonna….”
“That’s it darling. You’re almost there. You’re doing lovely.” Steven whimpered softly against the skin of your shoulder as he placed a delicate kiss there, using his nimble fingers to make sure that you reached a perfect orgasm and ignoring the tightness that formed in his own pants while an intense, almost unbearable heat tightened itself within your core.
“Sh-shit. Don’t stop.” You gritted your teeth, your eyes rolling back as you neared your orgasm while Steven maintained his pace. “Steven I’m gonna cu-“ You squeezed your eyes shut against the intense sensation, your nails digging into his skin as you buried your head in the crook of his neck to muffle out the moan that tore itself from the back of your throat from the familiar warmth that spread itself from the pit of your stomach to throughout your body. Your juices from your euphoria poured out from between your legs, coating your thighs and Steven’s fingers as you released your shaky breaths onto his neck, running your fingers through the soft curls on the back of his head and peppering weary kisses down his neck.
“You did wonderful love.” Steven pressed his lips to your forehead before letting Marc take back control.
“Fuck baby.” Marc uttered with a breathy moan at your wetness, slipping his fingers out of you to hold them up to the light as he moved your cum around between the pads of his fingertips, smirking as he glanced down at your flushed face.
“Well that was something.” You smirked in return, looking at your husband from under the thickness of your lashes before placing a sensual kiss on his lips.
“Oh baby.” Marc lifted his hand to his face with the slyest smirk on his lips to get a better look at the product of his work as you watched him slide his two fingers into his own mouth, licking your juices clean off the length of them. “We haven’t even gotten home yet.”