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unholyplumpprincess · 3 years

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One More Hit, Baby

A commission for someone on twitter! Featuring her headcanon of Bloodhound (which can be seen on her nsfw twitter @/EnEssTimesTwo) and my own of Mirage.

Summary: Bloodhound has always been into using fungi and roots as recreational/calming drugs (Anxie-tea amiright fellas) to soothe their nerves, but the effects can be different for someone else. Especially a certain someone who has hardly had any contact with ‘alien drugs’.

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Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Mirage/Bloodhound

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, Bloodhound has a penis, Mirage has a vulva, Mirage is gender fluid and uses he/she pronouns and Ellie/Elliott, drugged tea usage (Think Weed or CBD sorta vibes), mentions of other herbs used as drugs, mentions of Bloodhound being possessive but not in a Creepy way!

Words: 3.4k

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The usage of herbs and fungi for recreational drug purposes was not something that was not unheard of. Many cultures and religions partook in something of the sorts, and with so many planets and so many cultures to explore, it was of no shock that Bloodhound would end up getting into such things. It helped their own mind settle when they used the strong mushrooms in teas, or deep earthy roots to use in incense. The smoke would not pass from their lips, yet inhaled at a relaxing pace. They did not wish to be ‘high’ as others would use, but would rather be at ease.

It was much better than nicotine and other drugs created by chemicals that they could have put in their body, they had thought, and it was a practice passed down from generation to generation.

Talos was full of large foliage and beast life, that much was obvious. Well, HAD been. Back when it was a home and no longer harboring the greed of machines sucking its resources dry, Bloodhound had bitterly thought.

Inhale, exhale, sip.

~Rest under the cut~

Their lips press to the cup’s edge as they sip the tea they had made. It tastes strongly of cinnamon, earthier tastes to it. They muse, a smile to their lips, that Elliott would not like something like this. He would probably make a funny face and spit it out or try to swallow it with a brave face to save their feelings.

Elliott had been someone Bloodhound had gotten close to over their shared time in the arena. He had shown his colors, opened up to them, and in turn they had opened up to him. To the point now they were in a relationship for perhaps two months now, new and blossoming, yet Bloodhound found themself thinking of him quite often.

Whether the day consisted of Elliott or Ellie, depending on the day, she harbored their very thoughts like in situations as this. Where they could relax their body, roll their head back and sigh to the ceiling with half lidded eyes. Their state of dress was casual, a tight black tanktop and their tactical pants, their boots and fingerless gloves gave them an air of relaxed yet controlled.

They wonder, briefly, if Ellie would like to be controlled.

Inhale, exhale, sip.

They tuck their long, dark hair behind their ear, setting their cup to the side so they may check their phone. Arthur coos nearby on the balcony edge, yet they ignore his cries for simply Arthur being Arthur.

No new messages from Elliott, his name in their contacts framed by the emoji of a heart and a chameleon. A pun, Bloodhound had thought, was rather clever.

Yet, strange, that there were no texts from him. By this time he should have at least sent a playful selfie asking if they wished to come to bed with him or if they were too busy doing ‘hunter stuff’. Their full lips quirk up once more, resting their hand on their cheek to try and apply pressure as if to calm their smiling.

Perhaps they were just in love with the trickster. It was no secret to themself how they would worship the very ground Elliott walked on if given the chance. How they would kill for him, die for him, offer him gifts upon gifts, desiring nothing more than to see his dimpled grins and watch his quirks of hand motions and stuttering upon too lengthy of syllabled words.

Their cup is raised once again after they set their phone down, taking a sip and feeling their heightened nerves relaxing once more.

Truly they should have heeded why Arthur was crooning when they heard their door being unlocked and opened. They tense, beginning to move, but they hear him before they see him.

“Damn thing is always jammed, Hound, don’t know why you won’t just let me fix it-” Elliott’s voice is exasperated, pushing the door open with his shoulder before shutting it behind him. He’s obviously freshly showered, his curls slightly dewy and his fresh fruity scent making their nostrils flare. His own state of attire is casual, if not a bit dressed up. A black crop top to show his sharp curves and lean build with the small trail of hair from pierced navel down to skin tight, torn jeans. The leather jacket had fur edging the collar, the jacket they had left in his room last week.

They fight the urge to snarl with possession.

“Ah! There you are!” He says, lips spreading into a grin as he throws out his arms as if Bloodhound was a gift for him to find. They stay seated on the couch, legs slightly spread and boots planted firmly. They watch with a smile when he catches himself at the doorway, kicking off his own boots before gliding across the room towards them.

“Figured you ran off when they announced a party after the games,” His voice is playful, but they incline their head in agreement up to him as he approaches, their own eyes half lidded and relaxed. They slightly tip their head to the right, allowing their unblinded eye to look at him further. It’s sweet the way he’s clearly on a mission in front of them, bouncing from foot to foot until they silently make a motion to their lap.

Ever the eager one to initiate contact, Elliott climbs into their lap, straddling their thighs and draping his arms around their neck. Bloodhound hums with appreciation when he glides a hand through their hair, starting at the heavy scars upon their right cheekbone to brush their hair behind their ear. There’s a soft caress, both pairs of eyes meeting.

“I have missed your presence,” Bloodhound finally speaks, just a soft murmur as they gently set their cup to the side, letting their hands hover over his waist. There’s a small shift, a small telltale sign that they could touch and they take it graciously to caress his bare waist. Letting their thumbs greedily rub in circles to feel his soft skin. “It has been far too quiet.”

“Hey, hey, watch those jokes.” Elliott laughs back, gentle and soft as his hand traces back to their jaw, cupping gently and letting his thumb brush their lower lip. Bloodhound’s heart skips a beat, finding their body reacting, tipping their head up just in time for him to come down and meet them.

By the time their lips meet, Bloodhound is too far gone to consider anything more than his mouth. They sigh into him, tracing a hand up under his jacket their jacket to bring him forward a bit more onto their body. Elliott moans in reply, sinking his teeth gently into their bottom lip as he leads it into something heavier. A bit more tongue, with Bloodhound humming in appreciation when he licks over their sharp canines.

It isn’t until he’s parting, his lips lingering briefly on theirs with a soft laugh of him going, “What were you even drinking-” With a soft hint of interest in his voice. Oh, did he like the tea they made? They were sure he would--

Bloodhound is a fool.

It hits them just as quick as it seems to hit Elliott. They let out a soft gasp and a murmur of, “My love, I should have warned you, I did not think-”

“Nah, nah, no problem-o. Drugged tea, got it, it’s your thing, remember. Just...woah-” His last word is followed by him sitting up, honey hazel eyes looking around the room as if he sees things that Bloodhound cannot. They wouldn’t be surprised if that is in fact what’s going on. Especially when he lifts his head a bit, looking over towards the balcony window where Arthur pleasantly coos in his direction.

“Yeah okay, alcohol, no problem, but-” His following laugh is airy, amused and making Bloodhound’s stomach unknot from where it had been beginning to with anxiety. He is...comfortable. Comfortable in their lap, with their taste on his lips, with the drugs entering his veins and seeming to be...having a good time?

“You are not used to this.” They help him finish, tracing their fingers up his sides gently then back down to try and soothe him. It seems to do the exact opposite, as if increasing his sensitivity when he sighs and lets his head fall back with a low noise in his throat that isn’t exactly painful.

Bloodhound hates the way their pants are far too tight now. Betrayal of their own body.

“Mmh, keep doing that, baby.” Elliott sighs out, shuddering when their nails scrape down his sides to his hips where they rest their hands.

It’s not as if...they hadn’t thought of sexually pursuing Elliott. He was clearly open, going so far as to sit them down before and saying that if they wanted to, he was all for it, and even if they didn’t want to it wasn’t a big deal. It had been a kind, healthy discussion. One that had made Bloodhound actively think more OF him. Of what he could do. Of what he would say, crying in their ear as they sunk their fingers into the very depths of his gorgeous body-

They’re soon being guided to kiss him again, with Elliott absentmindedly grinding in their lap. His hips rock back and forth, perfectly aligning with their own seam and making them moan softly. They grip his hips, digging their nails in gently and only seeming to encourage him more with soft little whimpers arising from his throat, his kisses more urgent, hungrier.

“Elliott-” They breathe out when he parts from the kiss, his soft lips pressing down over their cheek, jawline, to their neck where he mouths at a spot. His warm tongue traces the spot before he’s starting to suck the flesh to leave a hickey. One of their hands flies from his hips, gripping his curls as a moan traitorously leaves their throat at the same moment a moaned ‘yes’ exhales from his own against their flesh.

By the gods, he will kill them.

“Elliott,” They breathe out once again, more desperate as they tug on his hair. He goes easy enough in the motion, a moan leaving him and his lashes fluttering. It’s as if he can’t focus, whining lower in his throat as his hips rock forward right across where their pants are tightest. Even Bloodhound almost loses focus, but they keep their grip. “Do you want- do you wish to-”

“Yes.” Elliott hisses out, voice full of need and nodding his head as best as he can with their grip. “Please, please, please baby, you’re gonna feel so good, you’re gonna make me cum so hard, haven’t st -stopped thinking about your-your mouth, want it on me-”

Bloodhound’s tanned cheeks flush crimson red at his honest vulgarity. Yet, they finally find it within them to at least stand. Their hands rest under Elliott’s ass comfortably, his own arms winding around their neck and his mouth still whispering filth in their scarred ear. He mouths there too, only making their trek to the bedroom a little harder.

When they finally all but throw him onto the bed, Elliott is quick to help with his clothes. The jacket is thrown elsewhere, followed by his hips lifting to allow Bloodhound to take off his ridiculously tight pants. Everything removed with urgency until he lies there upon their own sheets, naked, beautiful, eyes focused on them with the hunger they had only caught glimpses of in the arena when they pulled something dangerous.

His body is beautiful. Lean muscle with strong arms and scars littered about. His waist curved, followed by wide hips and strongly built legs. His chest, only small handfuls of breasts, pierced with golden barbells that make Bloodhound’s mouth water. His curls are splayed around his head, skin lit by the moonlight shining through the window nearby with curtains fluttering from the soft breeze.

Their eyes finally rest between his thighs where dark curls are. A fat, engorged clit peeking from his lower lips where slickness is clear to see.

A beast howls in the back of their mind.

“My mouth is what you wished for?” They finally manage to breathe out, sounding breathless with how he takes their breath away. When he whines, lifting his hips and nodding his head desperately, they can’t help their own chuckle. “Then that is what you shall get, my love.”

They hardly waste any time moving further onto the bed between his legs. They rest a strong forearm across his hips, using their hand to pull back his mound and clitoral hood just to watch him throb. They can hardly stand the desire, leaning forward to wrap their lips around and sucking.

The reaction is immediate of the flex in his hips trying to push up, but they hold him steady. Their tongue eagerly laps up any slickness, tracing from his hole to his clit like a starved dog. His clit is the main focus of their attention, open mouthed kisses eagerly presses to tease him, followed by their flat tongue and their nose nuzzling against it as if they could rub his scent into their skin forever.

Bloodhound’s ears burn the more they taste him. Not only from finally being able to, or the fact they’re hard enough in their pants that the zipper is starting to hurt, no. No.

It’s from his persistent, desperate talking. Like a bird chirping praise.

“Yes, yes, yes, baby, just like that-” “Fuck- fuck , your goddamn ton-tongue-” “Oho, God, sweetheart, yes, yes, yes-” His voice is a sin of its own, lowering from pleasure as he croons out the praise. At some point his hand rests in their hair, serving in making them growl when he tries to shove their head down or pull their hair.

He only gets louder when they introduce two fingers. They experiment with what he may like, curling up into his frontal walls, scissoring them, even parting from him briefly to kiss at his inner thighs and let their thumb work his clit over.

They get the strongest reaction when his cunt squeezes around their fingers, a warning, and yet they pull away from him.

Elliott sobs out, beating his fist against the bed and trying so hard to tug at their hair with desperation. They can’t imagine what he sees right now, his eyes half lidded and unfocused, yet body so relaxed. They think he looks beautiful like this, hair out of place, lips parted to pant and flushed from their prior kisses and his biting of his own lips to try and silence his moans.

His hips roll up into nothing, and they almost feel bad for stopping.

Almost.

“Condom?” They finally manage to get out, reaching down to offer their palm for him to hump. With how slick he is from their saliva and his own wetness; They highly doubt they need to ask him if he wants any extra lube.

“Don’t need it,” Elliott manages to get out in brief clarity, reaching with his legs until he can hook his calves around their waist, giving a small tug with a low whimper of need. “Don’t want it. Cum inside me, cum on me, mark me as yours, I don’t care. Baby, please, for the love of any god out there just get in me.”

And oh, oh the way he looks at them when he says it. Pupils blown wide, face flushed a healthy glow, how could they say no? Not as if they wanted to.

Without needing to be told twice, they hardly manage to get their pants down to mid-thigh. Fully clothed for the most part with a needy, soaking wet partner underneath them is almost too much for them to take. They’re sure they could cum right there.

They use the slickness from Elliott on their palm to lube their cock up, aware of hungry eyes watching them. Bloodhound was of a decent girth and size, nothing too shocking, but apparently good looking enough for Elliott to start keening praise again.

“I want to lick you clean after,” He begins, already making Bloodhound’s already burning ears become cherries. They growl softly in reply, stroking into their own fist briefly and letting their eyes fall to his wet cunt. “Fuck, sweetheart, I’ll be just a hole for you- you- hnnh- to fuck-”

“Elliott.” They hiss out, desperation in their tone as they yank his hips closer finally. They don’t even get to do the honors when he’s already eagerly reaching down to press their cock down, gliding the head through his heat until they can press in.

Skítur.

Oh he’s...he’s absolutely heavenly inside. The heat is too much, their hips absentmindedly snapping forward into him, but it doesn’t seem Elliott minds when he cries out and reaches for them. They oblige, leaning down over him and letting his arms wrap around their neck, one hand finding the nape of their neck and sliding upwards into their hair just to ground himself.

Bloodhound could cum just like this, inside of him, holding still with his sweet little pussy squeezing and fluttering around them. They’re dizzy on desire when his clit jerks against their pelvis, Elliott’s hips rolling upwards to get more friction.

He’s so desperate. Desperate for them, their touch, only them.

Theirs .

It’s sloppy and messy when they finally begin to thrust and move with him. Elliott’s legs clamp around their waist before beginning to loosen when he seems to realize they can move deeper if given the room. He’s chirping praise, his nails sliding down their clothed back until his hands can reach their ass. Elliott sighs something in appreciation, squeezing and forcing their hips to snap into him even harder with his insistence.

His lips can’t seem to focus on their neck or ear, breathing heavily with whines edging his words of, “God your cock is so good.” “ Gonna ha-have to convince you to fuck me every day-” “Cum inside me, Houndie, please-” “You’re such a good pup for me. Such a good dog.”

And that last one gets them. A good pup. A good dog. The phrases echo in their mind as they snarl, pressing their cheek into his temple to resist the urge to clamp their teeth around his throat as they lock up and begin to cum. Elliott follows soon after, his hips humping upwards to get that last needed friction before he’s moaning alongside them and scratching up their back to cling around their neck.

The spasms soon subside, but their shared heartbeat does not. Bloodhound moves lazily, resting their sweaty forehead to Elliott’s who is panting, eyes closed and brows creased.

Beautiful.

“What was even in that tea?” Elliott finally gets out after a moment longer of panting, stroking a hand through Bloodhound’s long hair to push it to the side and out of their face. They hum affectionately, gently lowering their body to rest their weight on top of him and nose into his neck to pepper the warmed flesh there in kisses.

“Venerem root,” They murmur, brushing their lips up his rapid fire pulse and gently nipping there, just to grunt when he tightens briefly around them. “It is to calm nerves for those who are not...lightweights.” Their last word tinging on playful, resulting in a gentle smack of their ass that makes them laugh.

“It’s not my fault you like alien subs—sub- sust —alien drugs.” He finally gets out, pinching their hip when they smile against his throat.

Bloodhound soon pulls back, sitting up on their knees and gently pressing their gloved hand to his mound, pushing it back to make his clit stand to attention. He groans, making a soft noise in his throat that sounds like he can’t go again, but they ignore it as they slowly pull out. Watching their cock slide from him with an act of primal demand racing through them when their cum follows, drooling out of his hole messily.

You truly can’t blame Bloodhound when they scoop it with their fingers and press it back into him with a growl in their throat, possessive and wanting.

And you can’t blame Elliott for spreading his legs open once again and whining for a second hit of their tea if it meant they would fuck him again.

Insatiable little trickster, he would be the death of them.

But, how can they refuse such a beautiful face?

#Miragehound #Bloodhound #Mirage #Apex legends #Apex lemons #lemons #nsft #commissions #princess writing

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toodivineforhumanmind · 4 years

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chapter 7 - there’s no one like you, sava

SATURDAY

14:35

Eva What time r you guys gonna hit the party?

Silvia Around 21? Me and Fede were gonna get together and pregame around 19, you guys wanna come?

Sana I’m good, I’ll probably be late to the party anyways. Gotta do something with my mom.

Eva Where are you pregaming?

Fede My place, mom and dad are in Venice for the wknd.

Eva What about Ele?

Eleonora I’m good too, I have a ton of school stuff before I get to the party.

Silvia Ok, that’s chill.

Silvia Brb, gotta go raid my closet to find something to wear.

Fede Ugh, same. Crisis incoming.

SATURDAY 20:56

Filippo stopped his car in front of Edoardo’s grand house, his eyes gazing over the house approvingly. There were people standing on the front lawn of the house, some of them smoking cigarettes under the night sky, and the open doors of the house emitted a warm glow. Eleonora hopped out of Filippo’s car, but before she could slam the door shut, her brother said:

“Hey, I don’t know why you’ve been feeling so down for a few days, but promise me you’ll try to have fun?” Filo’s voice was full of concern, his eyes sympathetic. It was clear that he was trying to detect any clues of Eleonora’s thoughts on the girl’s face, but there were none to be found.

Eleonora nodded, adjusting the bag on her shoulder in an attempt to avoid eye contact with her brother. “I promise, Filo. I’m fine.”

Filippo’s eyes on her were knowing, and for a moment he hesitated as if there was still something to say. But instead he smiled, nodded and gestured for his little sister to go, his smile wavering only for a second. Eleonora slammed the door shut and followed Filippo’s car with her eyes until it was out of view, stalling on the moment she would actually have to turn and face everyone - especially Edoardo - at the party that was clearly already raging on. A few people were already greeting Eleonora before she even reached the house itself; some of the faces were familiar friends of Edoardo’s, some of them complete strangers. But they all knew who she was.

“Ele!” Eva crashed onto Eleonora as soon as she stepped, her arms wrapping around the girl. Eva was wearing a pair of shorts over her bikini, her hair still damp from the chlorine water. Eva smelled of alcohol, chlorine and a fragrance that Eleonora had learned long ago to associate to her; it was a sweet scent, somewhat fruity and bubbly. Just like Eva herself.

Eleonora pulled back from her friend’s embrace. “Hi! How’s it going?”

Eva spread her arms and spun around in a drunken manner, giggling as she did so. “Amazing! It’s been so much, Federico threw me into the pool!”

Eleonora turned her gaze to the other side of the crowded livingroom, where Federico and Chicco were loudly playing a game of cards, surrounded by a curious crowd of intoxicated teenagers. Even Silvia and Sana were following the progress of the game, the blonde girl clutching a half-empty bottle of wine in her left hand. Loud music was emitting from the glass doors that led to the backyard, where the majority of the party was obviously happening - it was a pool party, after all.

For the first time in a while Eleonora felt nervous at the thought of seeing Edoardo, but she didn’t protest when Eva grabbed her by her arm and started leading her across the crowd, slipping through the masses of people like it was her second nature. “Eleonora, you have to come swimming with us!”

Eleonora shook her head at Eva as they stepped outside, the warm night air caressing their faces. “No, I… Totally forgot my bathing suit at home.”

Music was blasting from a large set of speakers, and the pool was filled with drunken people moving their bodies to the beat, there were couples making out in the water, there were girls dipping their toes into the pool. And then there was Edoardo, shirtless, immersed in conversation with a bunch of friends. Eleonora stood there for a second, frozen, trying to decide whether to continue her little effort of completely avoiding the boy, who she had barely said a word to after their little scene on the roof terrace of Eleonora’s apartment.

But before Eleonora could come to a conclusion, Edoardo looked up, his eyes setting immediately on Eleonora. A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth, and his eyes lit up in the slightest, most warming way possible. But just as fast it had appeared, the expression was gone. Edoardo turned back to his friends, said a few words to them and then turned back to Eleonora. Eva’s eyes were curiously jumping between her and Edoardo as the boy made his way up to them, his expression stern when he stopped in his tracks right in front of Eleonora, so close that she swore she could almost taste the chlorine on Edoardo’s skin.

“Hi,” Edoardo said, his eyes hard on Eleonora’s.

Eleonora felt breathless. “Hey.”

Eva looked like a frightened child left in the middle of their parent’s argument, leaning backwards on her heels when she caught the cold expression in Edoardo’s eyes. Eleonora could see Eva gaze glossing over the crowd until she spotted Elias sitting on the edge of the pool. “Guys, I gotta go say to Elias,” the redhead said, her care-free voice so artificial it almost made Eleonora chuckle. “I’ll catch you later, though!”

Edoardo waited until Eva was far enough not to hear them before he said anything. His hand reached for Eleonora’s almost instinctively, his fingers brushing at hers. “I missed you.”

Eleonora felt like there was not one single coherent thought in her heard when Edoardo was looking at her like this, his fingers still caressing the skin on her palm like it was the most natural thing for him to do. There was a worried look twisting his usually carefree features, and Eleonora felt so guilty that it felt nearly impossible to maintain the eye contact Edoardo was so desperately seeking. Eleonora brushed a lock of hair behind her own ear, shrugging. “Sorry, I uh… Got really caught up with school. It’s crazy how much homework piles up once you have actual friends to hang out with.”

Edoardo was not dumb. He caught the artifical tone of lightness in Eleonora’s voice, he heard how desperately the girl was trying to make a joke out of the entire situation. Edoardo gave the girl a half-assed smile to giver her some peace of mind, and it seemed to work - something in Eleonora’s posture changed, and it looked like she released a breath she had been holding in for minutes. “Okay, I get it.”

They both were lying, and they both knew it. There was a hint of blame in Edoardo’s eyes, and there was a hint of a secretive shame in Eleonora’s, but neither said anything about it. It had always been better to brush things under the mat in Edoardo’s experience, so he figured that Eleonora would not be any different. Maybe it was useless to try to figure things out with her - maybe it just freaked her out. Maybe she needed some time.

Time. The only thing that Edoardo and Eleonora were seemingly running out of. Fuck. Edoardo felt pain in his chest when he remembered Eleonora’s strange message: Fine. But after that we tell everyone that we’re over. The girl had put a clock on their time together, and the clock was running on its last hours. And even the thought of that felt somehow painful to both of them, yet neither knew nothing of each other’s feelings.

“You wanna go swimming?” Edoardo asked, desperate to break the heavy moment between the two.

Eleonora shook her head again. “I forgot to bring my bathing suit.”

Edoardo laughed, and this time there was truth in the gesture. “You forgot to bring a bathing suit. To a pool party.”

“Well, you know me,” Eleonora said, her tone nearly playful this time. “I’m all over the place.”

Edoardo smiled tenderly, turning his gaze to the sky with a laugh. “Yes you are, Sava.”

23:58

The party had gotten only louder the past hours, and even Eleonora had gotten to the same, festive mood as her friends around her. The girl was sitting on the backyard lawn with Eva, the two of them slightly detached from the rest of the party so that they could hear each other speak - and though they were sitting on the edge of the lawn, Eleonora swore she could still feel the bass of the music in the back of her teeth. She took a sip of her beer, her eyes peeled on the city lights below them. If there was something Eleonora loved about Edoardo’s house, it was the view; the slight hill the neighbourhood was situated on offered an amazing view across Rome, and it was only better at night.

Eva next to her looked thoughtful, her fingers fidgeting with the glass bottle. “So, how are things with you and Edoardo?”

It was a simple question, but Eleonora didn’t know how to answer. She tore her gaze off of the city, taking an extended sip of her beer - the alcohol was humming in her bloodstream, making everything warmer, safer. And suddenly, as if it were the most natural thing, Eleonora felt the absolute need to confess the truth to her best friend who was now eyeing her with a worried look in her eyes. Eleonora opened her mouth, but it felt like the words were getting stuck to the back of her throat, suffocating her.

“Ele?”

The brunette took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “We’re faking it.”

“What?” Eva asked, confused.

“We’re faking it,” Eleonora repeated, turning her gaze to the redhead beside her. “The relationship is fake, we’ve been pretending for like a month. Edoardo wanted to make his ex jealous and I wanted to get the opportunity to meet new friends at school.”

Eva stared at her, clearly waiting for the girl to burst into drunken laughter. The moment never came, and the redheaded girl kept opening and closing her mouth in an attempt to give Eleonora something to hold on to - some kind words, some consolation, anything. But what the hell was she supposed to say. “Oh.”

“I’ll just pretend that this isn’t the weirdest shit I’ve ever heard,” Eva continued, shaking her head. “Well, how long are you guys gonna go on?”

“Today’s the last day,” Eleonora stated, her voice almost cold. “I told Edoardo that we’re done.”

“But why?” Eva asked her best friend, taking a long sip of her beer.

“It’s nothing,” the brunette lied, avoiding Eva’s eye contact.

“You’re full of shit, Sava.”

Eleonora hesitated, as she knew that there was no point in lying to her friend. Eva had gotten to know her so well that it’d just be insulting to continue lying to her and pretend like the girl didn’t know the truth. And besides, why wouldn’t she tell Eva? She had already told some of the truth to her, so there really was no point in withholding the rest of the story from the redhead.

“Well… I’m just so confused. Edoardo’s still hung up on Elena, and I’m yet one of the girls that fell for the Incanti charm just to get nothing back,” Eleonora huffed out, shaking her head. She took a sip of her beer. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Listen, Eleonora,” Eva started, putting her beer bottle between her feet to prevent it from tipping over. “I don’t know what the fuck you’ve been doing the past month, but clearly you have not been seeing any of the obvious signs around you. Edoardo likes you, girl. I can tell by the way he looks at you - like he’s trying to figure you out, and he quite can’t, but he’s just enjoying the fact that you’re there.”

Eleonora couldn’t help a slight smile from climbing up her lips, and she turned her gaze to the grass to hide it from Eva. The girl continued: “So I’d say if there’s anyone who stupidly fell for someone who doesn’t like them back, it’s not you. It’s Edoardo.”

There was a certainty in Eva’s words, and whether it was the alcohol in Eleonora’s system or something else, Eleonora felt slightly more confident. “You think he likes me?”

“Oh hell yeah,” Eva said, truthfully. “He’s probably just waiting for a sign. He’s a respectable guy after all, not one to jump a girl who gives no indication that they’re interested in him. Though I doubt that there have been many girls in his path that have not been interested.”

03:45

It wasn’t even four in the morning when Eleonora woke up in one of the guest bedrooms, still fully clothed. The girl scrambled up from the bed, noticing that Eva, Fede and Silvia were laying on the bed, as well. No wonder it had been uncomfortable - the bed was barely big enough for two people. Eleonora made her way out of the bedroom barefoot, closing the door quietly in attempt not to wake up her friends. She made her way down the hallway and back to the livingroom, where many people were passed out on the couches, some of them still clutching half-empty bottles. It was still dark outside, the night air in the backyard illuminated only by the lights in the pool.

Eleonora walked to the backdoors, avoiding the empty beer bottles, cups and the occasional human being lying on the wooden floors, careful not to wake up anyone. The chlorine-scented night air felt good on Eleonora’s burning skin, and for a minute she considered whether it was too late to call Filippo to pick her up - maybe he was awake, it was the weekend, after all. Though if he were awake at this hour, it was more likely that he was in no condition to drive, as he had mentioned a new club opening in Trastevere. Fuck.

Edoardo’s voice pierced the silence, making Eleonora jump. “You’re awake.”

Edoardo was sitting on the steps that led to the pool, submerged in water up to his chest. His arms were spread on the edges of the pool, a cigarette between his fingers. There was a bottle of vodka and an ashtray on the edge of the pool, close enough for the boy to reach - clearly he had taken advantage of the party dying down to have a moment of his own, as Edoardo had never been to person to fall asleep early. It was something Eleonora had learned over the course of their weeks together, through countless of late night text messages and hang outs.

“Yeah,” Eleonora admitted eventually, walking to other side of the pool. She sat down on the edge, putting her feet in the warm water. Edoardo followed her with his lazy gaze, frowning as Eleonora seemed to sit down as far away from him as possible.

“Are you okay?” Eleonora asked eventually, forcing herself to look at Edoardo. The blue light illuminated his features beautifully, colouring him in a completely new way. The light bounced off of his eyes, and Eleonora couldn’t look away.

Edoardo took one last drag of his cigarette before stumping it onto the ashtray. “I’m good. You know, though I was pretty fucking surprised that all of a sudden you wanted us to end this.”

There was such a deep hurt in his voice that Eleonora nearly flinched - it was like a knife thrown right across the pool. The girl turned her gaze back to the surface of the water, suddenly feeling the burn of Edoardo’s disappointment. “Shouldn’t you be thanking me? Elena’s so damn jealous that for a moment I thought that she might actually kill me.”

Edoardo sighed, throwing his head back to look at the stars. “You know, for such a smart person you can be really fucking dense sometimes, Sava.”

“What?” Asked Eleonora, her voice sharp.

“This has nothing to do with Elena anymore,” Edoardo stated, looking at Eleonora again. “At least not for me.”

“What do you mean?” The girl asked again, suddenly feeling extremely nervous under Edoardo’s gaze.

“You know what was the only thing I cared about tonight? The only reason I was so excited?” Edoardo asked and paused like he wanted to give his words more weight. “You. I got to see you. And that was all I could think about all damn day. And you know what that means?”

Eleonora shrugged, a smile twitching at her lips. “You have severe problems with concentrating?”

Edoardo rolled his eyes and splashed some water, though it did not reach Eleonora on the other edge of the pool. “You are impossible.”

A wider smile twitched at Eleonora’s features, and for a brief moment Edoardo was relieved. They fell into a silence that felt somehow fragile, like the slightest of sounds could break it. Edoardo wanted to break it. He wanted to shatter it, he wanted to say every single thing that had been keeping him up for days, he wanted Eleonora know how he felt. The words kept getting stuck in his mouth, and after a few moment he gave up, turning his gaze to the side. And that’s when Eleonora started moving.

The girl pulled off the long cardigan she had borrowed from Silvia, leaving only the white, simple dress she had worn to the party. For a moment she hesitated on something. Seconds passed, and Edoardo swore every last one of them felt like eternity. And when Eleonora dropped into the pool, Edoardo couldn’t tear his eyes off of the girl.

“Uh. You’re coming in. In your dress,” Edoardo said, stalling on the words like he was trying to figure out the sight in front of him.

Eleonora shrugged as she made her way closer to the boy, the water getting more shallow as she got closer to Edoardo. “I didn’t bring my bathing suit, remember?”

Eleonora didn’t stop until she was close enough to Edoardo to touch him; she stood there, shivering in the cool night air, the weight of her soaked dress pulling her down. She looked beautiful even then, the blue light dancing on her features, creating shadows on her eyes. Edoardo sat there on the stairs looking at her, and suddenly it felt ridiculous that they were so far apart.

Eleonora took a deep breath. “Hi.”

A wide smile spread across Edoardo’s features, lighting up his eyes. His right arm reached for Eleonora under the water, wrapping around her waist. Slowly he pulled Eleonora to his lap on the stairs, his eyes locked on hers. His voice was rough when he whispered: “There is no one like you, Sava.”

Eleonora’s hand made its way to the back of Edoardo’s neck. She felt breathless as she sat there, looking at him, close enough to feel his cool breath tickling at her skin. Edoardo’s left made its way to her waist, securing his grip on her like he was scared Eleonora would disappear from under his touch. Eleonora’s eyes on him were gentle, and though her hand was shaking - from nervousness? - as she brushed a runaway curl from Edoardo’s eyes, there was a certainty in her eyes that she had lacked before. Something had changed in her, something in the way she looked at Edoardo, her lips so close he could almost feel them brushing against his own.

And that’s when Edoardo kissed her, making Eleonora gasp against his lips. It was slow at first, careful. Edoardo’s arms around her were secure but gentle, and the kiss on his lips so intoxicating it felt ridiculous that it had taken him almost four weeks to finally give into the feeling that had been driving him insane for days on end. The kiss started deepening when Edoardo felt Eleonora’s hand sliding from the back of his neck to his jaw, her small hand cupping his face.

“What?” Edoardo asked, breathless, when Eleonora pulled away a mere few inches.

Eleonora shook her head, smiling. “Nothing.”

Slowly, their lips crashed again. Edoardo’s arms let go of Eleonora’s waist and wrapped around the girl, pulling her so close she could feel Edoardo’s racing heartbeat against her own. The water splashed around them from the sudden movement, and Eleonora giggled the most adorable laughter against Edoardo’s lips, making his heart jump ever so slightly. How had it taken him so long to get here? How was it possible that he had wasted these past weeks not kissing Eleonora? Fuck.

She was the best thing he had ever felt, and if Edoardo could have frozen this moment, at four in the morning, and live it forever, he would have.

chapter 1 - this will sound dumb

chapter 2 - we need rules

chapter 3 - we’re in this mess together

chapter 4 - just don’t do anything i wouldn’t

chapter 5 - so fucking special

chapter 6 - it’ll mess everything up

#incantava #skam italia #skamit #skam #skam italy #eleonora sava #edoardo incanti #edoardo x eleonora #eleonora x edoardo #skamit fanfic #skam italia fanfic #skam fanfic #skam au

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teuvoterafinen · 6 years

Text

Not the Same - Part 2 (Auston Matthews)

Author’s Note: Well, so that trade happened and I’m distressed. So here’s a filler chapter that took me a dumb amount of time to write.

Word Count: 2092

Warnings: Bar creeps, drinking

Part 1

The boys had planned to help you move in before playoffs started, but that plan was only as good as your work schedule was allowing. And your car hadn’t started this afternoon, so you’d been forced to take the bus. A light sheen of sweat was slowly melting the makeup off your face as you hustled behind the bar, preparing cocktail after cocktail for an unexpected wedding party. You hadn’t dared to glance at your watch, but you knew you would be disappointed the minute you did.

This was a small bar in comparison to the one that you worked at in Raleigh, but it made up for its lack in size by the quality and price of its drinks. Though it was slightly divey, it often attracted the upper echelon of Toronto society, in need of a taste of how the other half lived. Dive bars were very in.

Greeting customer after customer turned into a routine of fake smiles and laughter, your flirtatious bar ego drowning out your own personality. I deserve a Grammy for all the bullshitting I do on a regular basis, you thought to yourself as you tried to remember the ingredients for a Mai Tai. Rum, coconut rum, pineapple juice, grenadine, shit, you focused on the drink in front of you but your mind was starting to wander, as it often did on long shifts like this one. Auston said he would come over to the apartment tomorrow to help you grab boxes, but it would have to be early, before their morning skate. It had to be nearly 1am at this point and you hadn’t even started cleaning.

“Hey beautiful,” one of the men from the party called, attempting to get your attention.

“I’ll be right with you,” you responded, barely looking up from your work, giving a drink to an already drunk bridesmaid. At least their dresses were a decent color, unlike the awful floral bowties that the groomsmen had been forced to wear. You had joked earlier to the cocktail waitress that the men would have a hard time picking up anyone with those collars on.

“You don’t have to be so rude. Smile for me why don’t you?” I would rather have all my teeth knocked out than smile at you right now.

“How about I make your drink instead? Good compromise?” You said politely, not wanting to start anything you might regret, though your filter was wearing thin.

“I like feisty women, they’re more fun to break in.” You almost visibly gagged and turned to walk away to the next customer, signaling to the other, male bartender to deal with the man.

“You do realize that she’s a person and not a horse,” a deep, angered voice came from behind the groomsman that had been harassing you. “I think you should accept the drink and go sit down.” It wasn’t often that customers stood up for you when it came to the assholes that were regulars at the bar, so you looked over, slightly surprised, to find Auston, looking especially menacing.

“Oh, man, Auston Matthews, I’m a huge fan,” you heard him say with a broken voice, attempting to eat his words. Auston simply scowled letting the man take the hint to walk away. He made no move to ask for a drink, but you opened a beer for him anyway, placing it gently on the bar.

“I can’t believe men actually act like that,” he mumbled, glancing behind him. “I mean I’ve been known to hit on a girl or two, but if they aren’t interested…”

“Shit happens, I try not to let it get to me.” You sighed, taking the moment of conversation to catch your breath. People were slowing down and choosing to sit at tables as last call approached quickly. “What brought you down to your humble neighborhood dive tonight?”

“Just the humble neighborhood bartender. Kappy told me your car broke down, so I thought I would ask if you wanted some company on your trip home.” Thankful for the dim lighting, you blushed a little. You honestly hadn’t even thought about your 3 am commute and the potential danger for a young woman, especially while tired and distracted. “I would drive you, but I’ve already had a few.” He didn’t look anywhere near drunk, but you did notice a slight flush to his tan skin.

“You really don’t mind staying that late? It takes a little while to close.”

“Not at all. The place we were at was getting pretty boring anyway. I’d rather have a conversation than be at the club right now.”

“Well, thank you. You’ll get to see all the fun stuff that I get to do. Like put up with drunk assholes and make weird fruity drinks.” If it wasn’t a Saturday night you probably would have asked if you could leave just a little early. Tim, the other bartender had it under control, but you never knew what could roll in right before close. He gave you a wink and a raised eyebrow as he poured beer for the few people at the bar, gesturing towards Auston. Boy, were you glad eye rolls weren’t audible.

“I always wanted to try bartending, actually. You should teach me how to make one of those weird fruity drinks.” Downing the entirety of his beer, Auston pushed the bottle towards you. “I’ll drink and pay for whatever you make as long as you tell me what’s in it.”

“That’s a dangerous proposition, Matthews. You sure you’re ready for it?”

“Do your worst,” he challenged. It was tempting to make him drink something completely ridiculous and blue, but you liked him too much.

“How about I just teach you one of the basics. How do you feel about a Martini?”

It was his turn to blush this time. “I’ve actually never had one…”

“Even better. Do you like olives?” Smirking, you grabbed your shaker and other tools, filling it up with ice.

“Sure.” He was so focused you wouldn’t have been surprised if he took out a pen to take notes and you found yourself noticing the way his eyes narrowed in slightly drunk concentration, leaning back in his seat with one of his long legs propped against the stool next to him. Trying not to let it soak in how attractive you thought that was, you turned to grab a bottle of gin, going with the top shelf for good measure. You weren’t putting shitty liquor in Auston Matthews’ first martini.

“Alright,” you placed the stemmed glass in front of him, quickly adding ice and a splash of soda water.”

“Is that it?”

“No, that’s just to chill the glass,” you chuckled at his fleeting dejected look.

“Oh, good, I thought you were trying to tell me something for a second…”

“I picked a good gin for you, I hope you don’t mind.”

“I’m a classy guy, you know. I only drink top shelf.” The smile he threw you prompted you to turn around yet again to take a deep breath. He had to know what he was doing. No tabloid rumor could have prepared you for this amount of casual charm. Cursing yourself and your racing heart wouldn’t keep you from catching feelings. It had been a personal rule of yours for a while now to not get involved with any of the men you met through hockey. Live and learn they said. Don’t make the same mistakes twice they said. Whoever “they” were had obviously never met a hockey boy.

“Yeah, top shelf and Corona,” you chirped, attempting to recover as quickly as possible. This was really the first time the two of you had spent time together without the other guys around and you were surprised at how easy the conversation was flowing. You were in your own bubble, as much as you could be while trying to keep your eyes on the rest of the bar.

“And what do you drink that’s so much better? Natty Light?” He poked back, hitting a bit too close to home. You had indeed been that kind of party jock for most of your freshman year.

You shrugged, brushing off the comment, “There’s nothing wrong with cheap.” There was almost definitely a 2-4 of Bud Light in your fridge at home, but he didn’t need to know that. With the ingredients in the shaker, you pulled out your bar spoon to stir the cocktail, only to notice a slightly confused look on his face.

“I thought you were supposed to shake it? Like in James Bond?”

“Are you James Bond?” you said, raising an eyebrow. It was kind of nice to have someone paying attention to your work, showing interest. “James Bond drinks vodka. Gin bruises when you shake it and it affects the taste,” you eventually explained after emptying the glass and pouring the finished product in with just a dash of dry vermouth. “And there you go. One gin martini, dry and dirty.

You wanted to take a picture, he just looked so contradictory in his jeans and a t-shirt, holding a stemmed martini glass like he was sporting a full tux. It turned out Auston was thinking the exact same thing. “Do you mind?” he said, unlocking his phone and handing it to you. The lighting wasn’t on your side, but you managed a couple posed pictures and a few candids before he took a sip.

“Huh, that’s not at all what I expected.”

“Good or bad?” Slightly worried he would hate it, you handed his phone back.

“I kind of like it. I wouldn’t drink them all the time, but I feel…swanky.” He sat in silence, slowly enjoying his drink as you restocked glasses and cleaned the bar. That strange serenity of a bar after closing time sinking in.

“So, what do you think? Going to ditch your hockey career and become a bartender?” The quiet chiming of glasses served to occupy the silence as he laughed quietly, harmonizing perfectly with his deep tenor.

“Wouldn’t that be the drama of the decade?” he kept smiling, staring distracted at you as your deft hands handled and polished glass after glass. “Do a shot with me,” he demanded calmly. A hint of skepticism and reluctance crept into your features. It was way out of character for you to drink with customers.

“I don’t know, Auston…”

“Get out of here and do a shot with him,” Tim whispered behind you, picking up the slack that you had been leaving all night. “I can tell you want to.” So much for hiding your feelings. The perception of a bartender was never to be underestimated.

“I don’t know, I just thought it would be nice…” Auston mumbled, trailing off toward the end. “You really don’t have to.”

“No, no way, it’s not that I don’t want to, I just, you know.” You stopped, pulling yourself together. The nervous rambling was so typical, how did you manage to be so smooth when you didn’t care and then absolutely fall apart when you wanted to play it cool. The universe just liked to play tricks. “Let me just finish up. I’ll be done in just a minute,” you said, your words catching in your throat, nearly making you stutter. That shot would definitely help to calm the raging nerves right now. You dashed quickly from behind the bar, grabbing your coat and keys from the back room. Deep breaths, you’re totally cool, you’re totally pretty in your own slightly hot mess sort of way. Taking a peek in the mirror, you wiped the excess eyeliner away from your bottom lid. He’s just like any other guy. Fuck, no he’s not, he’s amazing.

He was standing with his back against the edge of the bar when you got back, looking at his phone. “These pictures are great, Y/N. Can I tag you?”

“Sure, get the fans going. I live for drama,” you joked, before actually thinking about it. It was probably not a great idea to subject yourself to more public criticism. “My account is private anyway.”

“Here,” he said, handing you a shot. “I asked Tim what your favorite was. I never would have pegged you as a tequila girl, you’re too calm and cool.” Nearly laughing out loud, you accepted the glass. At least one person in the room was fooled.

“Cheers to tequila girls, the Toronto Maple Leafs, and to getting up in five hours?” All smiles, he rolled his eyes and lifted his glass.

“Cheers.”

#hockey imagines #hockey writing #auston matthews

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jontheredrc · 7 years

Text

Ginny gave one last wave to the mother and son as they walked out the door. Little Jeff Barlowe's blond curls bounced after him as he took hurried steps, to keep pace with his mother. The sun was starting to dip in the sky a little, a good sign. As much as she loved her students, Ginny had a bottle of wine and a lovely dinner idea to go with it. Now, there was only one more slot left in the day for parent-teacher conferences. Ginny took a quick look at the schedule, only to freeze up when the name crossed her vision.

“Lyla Brangwyn,” she read aloud. Lyla was a quiet girl, smart and kind, and definitely not the reason Ginny was suddenly so nervous. She could feel her fingers crossing on one hand, hoping it'd just be Ms. Brangwyn joining her daughter for the meeting. Even when she heard the roar of that motorcycle, she held out hope. She'd heard the stories about Lyla's father from first grade and kindergarten teachers, and even witnessed one profanity-laden incident herself. Maybe he was just dropping the two of them off, she thought to herself, or maybe all three of them would be attending—

The door to the classroom swung open as if propelled by a hurricane, the knob smashing into the wall. What stood in the doorway now was a pair of people, obviously father and daughter. Lyla had inherited her father's wild black hair and blue eyes, but the noise of the man kicking the door open had startled her more than it had Ginny. He, however, stood there, slowly lowering his leg, seemingly oblivious to just how loud he'd been. “It's this room, ain't it?” he asked his daughter.

Lyla simply nodded to him, then waved to Ginny. “Hello, Lyla,” she said. “How are you today?”

“Good,” the girl replied. Her voice was tiny and timid, the exact opposite of the confident man now striding through the classroom, bumping into a few of the kids' desks at the front of the room on his way.

As he found a seat for himself, Ginny started a conversation with him as well. “And you, Miste—uh, Grizz, how are you?”

Grizz shrugged. Ginny had seen him before, and was glad that her idea to drop some of the formalities had seemed to have taken a little edge off already. He let his forest green hoodie rest on the back of the chair he sat in as he leaned forward. “A'ight,” he answered. “Alyce is sick...been tryin' to take care of her an' do the house stuff.”

Ginny adjusted her glasses a bit, threading some of her red hair out from underneath them. “I'm sorry to hear that. Ms. Brangwyn has my condolences.”

Grizz let out a short laugh. “Good, she'll love to hear it.” He seemed to gain a little more focus when his daughter climbed up into a chair next to him, a chair Ginny hadn't even noticed the girl fetching. “So Lyla...what's her deal?”

If nothing else, Ginny was glad for Grizz's focus; it had seemed like so many parents that had been in that day wanted to talk about anything but their child. “Well,” she began, turning to her notes, “Lyla has shown herself to be exceptionally talented. She's reading at a fourth-grade level two years early...kids like that tend to stay ahead of the curve, so it's a very good sign for future school years.” She looked up at the two of them, Lyla swinging her legs in her seat and Grizz fidgeting with a pen. She couldn't tell if they were listening or not, but she continued. “She's on target in most of her other subjects too...how's your math, Lyla?”

The girl's head perked up instantly when she heard her name. “I practiced today, Mrs. Dearborn!” she said, straightening out her orange summer dress. Looking up at Grizz, she added, “Daddy helped! He brought cards and candy.”

Ginny's eyebrow raised a little. The cards were probably flash cards, but this guy, crossing his arms and showing off all the scars on them, with candy? “Could you show me one?” Lyla nodded and pushed herself off her chair, watching patiently as Ginny wrote up a simple multiplication problem. “Okay, Lyla, what is 2 times 5?”

“10.” The answer had come before Ginny could even finish turning around, faster than it ever had before. “Like the gum Daddy bought!”

Ginny turned a questioning gaze to Grizz, who responded by digging two empty wrappers out of his pocket. “She's crazy for this fruity gum,” he said, “so I kinda went with it. Really sped up that last worksheet ya gave her.”

“You gave her a hands-on learning aid?” Ginny gasped. Grizz had averted his gaze to scratch an itch on his scalp, using the pen he'd been holding earlier.

“Probably?” Grizz tossed the pen on Ginny's desk, and only when it rolled close to her did she see the writing on it, the phone number of the spa she'd gone to last summer. She hadn't even noticed he took it. “That ain't bad, is it? Seemed like she'd get a handle on this times stuff a little better if it was more than just lines on paper.”

“I like gum,” Lyla added, briefly touching her hair.

Grizz turned to Lyla, squatting down to address her. Ginny could hear the hole in the left knee of his jeans widen a bit as he got himself on the kid's level. “Yep! An' since we been cuttin' your hair so short, that gum ain't touched your hair.”

Lyla smiled at her dad and nodded. “I like short hair!”

Ginny erased the board, listening to the two of them chatter back and forth. Both of them surprised her in their own ways, Grizz showing such attention to his daughter's feelings, and Lyla being far more talkative than she ever was in the classroom, a topic she'd wanted to breach before time was up. “Grizz,” she interrupted, causing the two of them to look up at her, “does Lyla always talk so much at home?”

He shrugged a little as he rose to his feet, pulling his dirty gray t-shirt so that it stuck to his back instead of his front. “Pretty much,” he said after a moment of thought. “Though it's usually to squeeze a story out of her bro, ain't it?” Lyla nodded as the three of them returned to their chairs. “She don't talk much at school, though, I know.”

At this rate, Ginny was prepared to forget about her notes for this conference. She wouldn't have expected Alyce to be this in tune with her child's development goals, much less Grizz. “I had a teaching aide in that thought she was getting abused or neglected at h—“

Grizz stood up so fast that the chair he'd been in shot out behind him, careening into a small trash bin in the corner. “Shut your mouth,” he growled. “I hear that crap all the time an' I had enough, see? I do everythin' my kid needs, an' still get treated like scum! Lyla don't act like I raise her wrong, but y'all sure do.” Grizz moved to the corner and flipped the chair upright with his feet, giving it a gentle push to slide it back into place.

He began to move toward Lyla, but her eyes were still locked on the corner. “Daddy, you made a mess!” she scolded him.

“...my bad.” Ginny watched, a little stunned, as Grizz returned to the corner and heaped the trash back in the bin where it belonged. There was no way Lyla had meant it to be an exercise that took long enough for Grizz to cool off a little, but that was how it happened to work out. He let out one last sigh as he landed in his chair. “So, Lyla, she ain't social, that what we were sayin'?”

“Sometimes she doesn't even respond to an adult,” Ginny clarified. “And she doesn't have a whole lot of friends. She likes staying in here more than going out on the playground.”

Grizz shrugged a little. “So what?” He reached over to ruffle Lyla's hair a little. “Kid just likes her stories, ya know? Sometimes it ain't enough to yell for her when supper's ready...she gets her nose in them books, an' it's like nothin' else exists after that.”

Ginny nodded and wrote down the substance of Grizz's response, using that pen just to make sure he didn't sleight-of-hand it away again. “So she's like that at home as well...”

“Well, yeah, why wouldn't she be?” A cloud of confusion blotted out the aggression that had remained on Grizz's face. “Like, she got bullied a little on that playground last year, but she did a lot of readin' before that, too. An' before it was readin'...she'd ask me or Alyce or Aaron to tell her a story 'bout one of us. Like...” Grizz stopped for a moment, then turned to Lyla, a smirk on his face. “Hey kid, how'd I meet your mom?”

“You and Mommy ran into each other!” Lyla answered, clapping her hands together for emphasis. Ginny could tell she meant her statement literally.

Lyla laughed a little while longer as Grizz turned back to Ginny. “So that's the deal. Ain't nothin' wrong with that, right?” he said.

Ginny couldn't help but shrug a little, after watching Grizz do it so much. “Well, 'wrong' isn't the word I would use,” she responded, “but it might not be...typical.” Ginny practically heard the sentence bounce off of Grizz, as he sat there with a look on his face that told her that he didn't get it. “You know...neurotypical.”

“Lady, makin' the words bigger ain't gonna help me understand it better.” Grizz leaned back in his chair, belting out a massive yawn. “What'cha got to say 'bout Lyla?”

Ginny gave her next words more thought than usual, in no mood to set off Grizz's anger again. “Well...” Ginny's eyes flicked to the cheap purple carpet of the classroom, to the fluorescent lights in the ceiling, desperate to find an answer to appease Lyla's father. “...the way she thinks might be different than most kids. Not better or worse, just different.”

All through her explanation, Grizz had kept that sleepy look about his face after his yawn. She had expected her news to get more of a reaction from him. “Look,” he mumbled, stopping to clear his throat. Grizz leaned toward Lyla a little as he tried again. “I didn't go to school. I didn't have friends my age. So I dunno how a kid's really supposed to act.”

“You've done this before, haven't you?”

“What, you mean Aaron? He's adopted.” Grizz shifted in his chair a little, and Ginny gasped a little as something metallic caught a stray ray of sunshine. Something in his hand had reflected the light at her, and whatever it was, he'd plunged it into Lyla's hair, brushing her delicately. “And he's a boy. I didn't know if girls were any different. So I've just been doing it her way.” As he said that, he gave Lyla a gentle shake with his free hand. “Yeah, she don't talk much, an' she loves her books and stories. But there ain't no harm in it...it's a library, ya know? What trouble she gonna get into there?” He suddenly froze, then quickly pulled the brush from Lyla's hair. By now, the fact that it was a knife with comb-shaped grooves along the bottom edge barely fazed Ginny. “Hey, Lyla, what's that thing you asked me at dinner yesterday? I said ask your teacher...?”

Lyla nodded. “Mrs. Dearborn, how do you make a library?” she asked, her eyes wide with curiosity.

“Apparently,” Grizz began, “she wants to put the family's stories in it too.”

Ginny leaned back in her seat a little, turning herself around to her notes. “Well, Lyla, one day, I'm sure you'll have the library of your dreams.” Reading her notes, she realized Grizz had a point; it was just some social and math skills that Lyla was behind on, and there were definitely no disciplinary reports to bring to his attention. Between her behavior and Grizz's unexpected tact, this was probably the simplest conference she'd had all day. “Well, I've got this document here...” Ginny slid a paper across her desk, toward the corner Grizz was sitting near. “...we can test, you know, how she thinks. But we'd just like your permission first.”

Grizz turned the paper around in his hands, his eyes skimming the front and back. “That's a lot of words. Lemme run it by Alyce, an' Lyla can get it back to you.”

“Of course.” All of Ginny's other papers went right back into her desk. “That's all I really had to say today. Did you have any questions?” Lyla shook her head, and Grizz just stared blankly. “Well, okay. Lyla did make something for the art show, so you could always head to the gym and see that before you go. Technically, the art show starts tomorrow, but everything's already in place.”

“Think I saw it already, but sure,” Grizz agreed. “C'mon, Lyla, let's go to the art thing.” Lyla nodded and pushed herself from her chair, taking Grizz's hand and urging him out of his seat. “See ya, teach!”

“Goodbye, Mrs. Dearborn,” Lyla said as she led Grizz out of the room. Ginny only waved at the two of them as they left. She began packing up quietly, so as to listen in on Lyla and Grizz as they walked down the hall.

“Mommy will be so proud of you.”

“Huh?”

“You didn't swear.”

“Ugh, I know. Ya think anyone would get angry if I swore now?”

“Mommy would.”

“How about we just not tell her? I hate comin' to school and havin' to watch my mouth.”

Before Lyla could offer a response, Grizz belted out a single F-bomb that seemed to rattle the windows around him. From the doorway to her classroom, Ginny could see Lyla had turned her head to face Grizz. “What?” he said, staring back at his daughter. “That was one of your first words...you can't give me that look.”

#writing #short story #slice of life #parent teacher conference #greg lee #lyla brangwyn

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msbigredmachine · 7 years

Text

Into The Deep End - Chapter 38

Sasha has always tried to play it safe, to keep her life as simple and risk-free as possible. Things change, however, when she garners the interest of a handsome, charming, younger man from a completely different world than hers. As she starts to question her own rules, is she ready to take the biggest chance of them all? Will she let herself take that dive? Roman Reigns/OC.

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CHAPTER 37

The week flew by and on Thursday Joe and Sasha were on a plane to Pensacola. Flying business class for that matter. Sika was in a giving mood and paid for it all, and Sasha thought it was very generous of him. The couple arrived at Joe's beach house late in the evening, and tired from the long day they had, they went straight to the master bedroom and stumbled into bed, falling asleep almost instantly.

Click here to see Joe’s Pensacola beach home

Sasha woke to the sound of water running and her boyfriend missing from the bed. Reaching for the shirt he wore the day before, she put it on and headed to the bathroom, where he stood in front of the mirror inspecting his reflection. "Hey sexy," she said.

He smiled at her through the mirror. "Morning, baby girl. Sleep well?"

"Very." She leaned against the doorframe, eyes scanning the beige-colored bathroom. It was much bigger than the one she'd already seen in the guest room, with double sinks, a shower and a Jacuzzi tub. There was a window from which one could see the stunning ocean vistas. "What are you up to?" she asked.

"Not much. I went grocery shopping this morning so there's food in the house now. I took out your toiletries for you," he said, as she joined him at the sink and picked up her toothbrush to brush her teeth. He rubbed his bearded jaw and picked up a razor. "I totally need a shave. I'll be looking like Rollins soon enough."

Sasha rinsed her mouth and put her toothbrush away. "Let me do it," she offered.

Joe looked at her. "Shave me?" She nodded. "Uh, do you know how?"

"I shave my legs," she shrugged. She'd groomed a couple of her boyfriends in the past as well, but that part was better left unsaid.

"Um, legs and a beard are two different things," he countered.

"Not really. Sit." She pointed at the wooden stool in the bathroom. Reluctantly, he sat down while she took the razor from him and stood between his legs. "Sweetie, relax. I won't hurt you. Much," she added with a wicked grin.

"Much? Sasha! I'd rather not be slashed open on the night of my parents' party."

She burst out laughing at that. "For Pete's sake, relax. I got this." She wet a washcloth with warm water and gently wet his bearded area, waiting for a while before lathering his face with shaving cream. She could feel Joe's grey gaze on her, watching her warily. "Bend your head back," she instructed, smiling as Joe closed his eyes and shook his head before obeying.

Sliding her hand into his hair to hold him still, her expression was one of utmost concentration as she very gently began stroking the razor up from his neck to his chin, revealing a patch of smooth skin beneath the lather. She ran the razor up his neck again, widening the patch. Joe cautiously opened one eye when she turned to rinse the razor in the sink. "Cut me yet?" he queried.

"Shut up," Sasha snapped. Joe snickered in response but said nothing further, letting her carry on. There was something seriously sexy about letting her groom him. But then again, he thought nearly everything she did was sexy. She'd done his hair many times but never the one on his face until now. This was more intimate, with their faces inches from each other, allowing him to study her beautiful features as she shaved him. Feeling rascally, his hands glided up her thighs under the oversized shirt she was wearing, his fingers absorbing the softness of her skin. Just as he neared the juncture between her legs, Sasha abruptly tapped the side of the razor on his nose. "Don't do that," she warned, "Not unless you want me to cut up your pretty face."

Joe smiled mischievously and raised his hands in surrender, and Sasha was allowed to finish her work in peace, sculpting his goatee the best way she could. She wet the washcloth with warm water to rinse his face, then dried his face with a towel. "Done, and not a drop of blood spilled," she said proudly.

He turned to look in the mirror. "Not bad, Morgan."

"Told you," she said proudly, watching him admire her handiwork in the mirror. Her eyes flickered over his gorgeous body, his broad back, his waist narrowing into the towel that covered his delectable derriere. He was so sexy and hot, it made her head spin sometimes.

It was several seconds before he realized she was staring at him. "What?" he asked.

"Nothing." Sasha licked her lips, eyeing him again. She came up behind him, rubbing her small hands along the front of his body, grinning inwardly when his ab muscles twitched beneath her touch. Meeting his heated gaze through the mirror, her voice was husky, seductive. "It's just...the sight of you makes me wet."

Joe's amused expression instantly became serious, and he swallowed hard as his grey eyes dilated. It was always a thrill for Sasha, watching his control slip, anticipating what he was going to do to her.

He turned from the mirror and dragged her to him, sliding his hands back under her shirt to cup her backside. "I'm gonna need proof of that," he told her in an equally throaty, heated voice. Before he could carry out his little investigation, however, his phone rang, with Sika's picture popping up on the screen. Unimpressed by the interruption, he sighed before picking up. "Hey Pops."

Patting his back, Sasha slipped away to give him privacy, walking down the hallway and into the living room area. She liked that everything was on one floor and she didn't have to do any climbing. The front door was open, letting in the warm outdoor breeze. She stepped out onto the patio, taking in the spectacular view of the beach. Joe obviously had a thing for picturesque scenery and she did not blame him. This was a far cry from the decrepit concrete and crackled-plaster combination that made up the environs of her apartment complex. She definitely did not mind giving that up for a place like this someday.

Joe wandered out onto the patio a few minutes later, covered up in a t-shirt and faded jeans. "Where'd you run off to?" he asked.

"I was looking around while you were on the phone. Everything okay?"

"You're here, so everything's great." He walked over to her, wrapped his arms around her waist and laid his lips on hers in that loving, tender manner that always filled her stomach with butterflies. "Mm. Minty fresh," he said against her mouth, laughing when she playfully slapped his chest. Kissing her forehead, he walked back inside the house, pulling her along behind him. "What would you like for breakfast?"

"What you got in mind?"

"Eggs. Bacon. Pancakes. Whatever you want."

Sasha nodded. "Let's see what we can get done."

They made breakfast together, with Sasha dancing around the kitchen to the music playing from Joe's iPhone, giving the Samoan a glimpse of where Mia inherited her talent from. In turn Sasha was treated to Joe's very impressive delivery of Dr. Dre and Eminem's 'Forgot About Dre'. All shenanigans aside, they managed to prepare a nice spread, consisting of French toast, bacon, sausages, croissants, blueberry pancakes and fruit, along with freshly squeezed orange juice and their favorite coffee blend.

"I like that there's not much furniture in the house," Sasha said between bites of her French toast as they sat side by side at the kitchen island. "It's just the bare essentials but it's cool. Gives the house a more open layout than it already is."

The Samoan picked up a croissant. "I prefer it this way. I'm not here often so there's no point having so much stuff. The first time Matt showed me this place I literally snatched the keys and paid whatever it cost. It was perfect. I'd just got out of the shit with Andrea and I needed somewhere to clear my head. I love beaches and I still wish I lived right next to one in Tampa."

Sasha took a sip of her orange juice. "You said I'm the first person you've ever brought here?" Joe nodded, and she smiled softly. "I'm honored. I love that you trust me enough to share such a private piece of your life with me."

"I do trust you, baby girl. And I hope to share more with you in the future," he replied, his eyes tender as they searched hers expectantly.

Sasha smiled, aware that she felt the same. "Me too." She leaned towards him to brush her lips with his, feeling his smile as they kissed. She pulled back to chuck a piece of bacon into his mouth. "So what time are we meant to be at the party?"

"Seven-thirty. Cassie planned everything. I don't know how she does it. I'm shit at planning stuff."

"Well, she is an event planner. That's kinda what she does," Sasha said. Nodding in agreement, Joe gave his girlfriend a long look. "I hope you'll like the things I got for you tonight," he said.

Sasha raised an eyebrow. "Things? I thought it was only a dress. What else did you get?"

He smiled and winked. "You're gonna have to wait and see," he said cryptically. "I'll show you around the rest of the house later. We didn't get to do that last time."

"Cool."

The rest of breakfast was spent in companionable silence. They spent half an hour cleaning up afterwards, and things would probably have progressed faster had they not been too busy touching, kissing and stealing glances at each other the whole time. Later on in the day, they took a stroll outside, walking around their secluded compound and down to the beach. Afterwards, Sasha lounged on the patio in a super-comfortable wicker chair, sipping a fruity cocktail while Joe was on a conference call going over the night's activities with his sisters.

"So are you going to reveal your little secret now? What did you get me?" Sasha asked when they were in the bedroom. The sun was setting and it was time to get ready for the evening.

He cast her his trademark half-smile as he walked towards his sizeable wardrobe, very much like his one back in Tampa. Her eyes widened as he started bringing out a number of boxes and shopping bags, setting some on the floor and others on the bed. "I had them all delivered here over the week. I wasn't exactly sure about what you'd want so I thought I'd let you decide," he explained.

She stepped closer to the bed with wide eyes. There had to be at least ten boxes and shopping bags in total. The two biggest boxes, which were wrapped in single bows, were probably dresses. Another was a big silver and black case with M.A.C. printed on the side. Pam had one of those. It was filled with every makeup item imaginable and in every shade imaginable. Another bag contained body wash, mist and lotion from Bath & Body Works. Her eyes fell upon the three boxes on the floor, and she felt faint. "Oh my god, are those..." she trailed off, recognizing the beige shoe boxes with the famous cursive lettering of Christian Louboutin.

A pair cost twice the amount of her monthly rent at least, and here were three of them. Overwhelmed, she turned to Joe, who stood by calmly watching her reaction. "It's just one night, Joe. Why get all this expensive stuff only for you to have to return them tomorrow?"

He smiled. "Who said anything about returning? You're keeping everything."

What?! "Everything?" she choked out.

He nodded. "All of it. It's all yours."

Stunned and fighting the urge to cry, Sasha shook her head. "Baby, I..." she stammered, looking around in amazement. Sure, he'd got her gifts over the course of their relationship but this was overload. "This is too much."

He flashed her another sweet, warm smile. "For you nani, nothing is ever too much."

"You don't have to spoil me, babe. You didn't have to do all of this."

"Sasha, I'm your boyfriend. Boyfriends spoil their girlfriends, that's what we're supposed to do. But more importantly, I want to spoil you." Walking up to her, he gently tipped her chin up to meet his eyes. "Baby girl, if we really want this thing between us to work," he gestured between them, "you're gonna have to deal with the fact that I like buying you nice things. I like spending my money on you and I wouldn't have it any other way. Alright? Is that okay?" He locked gazes with her, awaiting her answer.

"Okay." She didn't know what else to say.

"Good. Now why don't you check out the other stuff?"

She continued to peruse the gifts one after the other; perfume, hair appliances, accessories. There was even lingerie, from Agent Provocateur of all places. She picked up the lace bra and checked the label. "Hmm, you got the right size," she smiled at him.

Joe smirked. "Babe, I been takin' off your clothes for months now. I think I'd have an idea what sizes you are."

"True," she conceded with a giggle, glancing around at the spread on the bed and exhaling heavily. This was generous and then some.

Joe draped his arms around her waist and kissed her cheek. "We better start getting ready. I know you ladies need all the space you can get so I'll get dressed in the guest room. Come find me if you need anything."

"Okay," she smiled and nodded, and Joe gave her a kiss before he exited the room. Sasha turned back around, looking at all the items on the bed. She started with one of the boxes containing the dress, a gasp leaving her when she opened it and gently held up the garment. It was a floor-length, one-shoulder mermaid gown in ruby red, the traditional color of the fortieth wedding anniversary. It had a partial sweetheart neckline and a beautiful embroidered design on the right bust. The second dress was a flowing strapless coral silk gown. They were both stunning, and the backs were not too revealing, meaning she could wear a strapless bra. She couldn't begin to imagine how much the dresses cost and she tried not to think about it. She tended to the shoes on the floor. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine owning one pair of Louboutins, let alone three. She opened each of the boxes and inspected the shoes. All three were high enough to guarantee that she at least reached Joe's shoulder height-wise. They were all beautiful but she couldn't keep her eyes off the silver strappy sandals, which she thought went perfectly with the red dress she preferred. There were even clutch bags to go with each outfit. Her man had thought of everything.

An hour went by as she shaved, showered, did her hair and makeup and got dressed. She was checking her updo in the mirror when there was a knock on the door and Joe entered. She turned to face him and he halted in his tracks, speechless.

Damn. Red was his favorite color on her but this was on another level. From the form-fitting gown which accentuated her voluptuous, hourglass figure, to her red lipstick, she looked unbelievable. "Sasha...you're breathtaking," he stated finally, regaining his ability to speak.

She smoothed down her dress and grinned. "Thanks, baby. You look so handsome." More than handsome. He looked sinfully fantastic in in his tailored black suit and black shirt with a red tie that matched her gown. His jet-black hair was slicked back nicely and gathered into a bun at the nape of his neck, and all she wanted to do was dig her fingers in and disrupt all that neatness and order, preferably with him on his back. It was going to be a tough task, keeping her hands to herself all night. Noticing the item in his hands, she said, "What's that?"

"Something to complete your outfit with," he said simply, presenting her with an aqua-colored box tied in a white bow. Sasha went numb when she saw the name on the box. Tiffany & Co. Wow.

He extended the box to her. "Open it, baby."

She was almost afraid to, but not wanting to hurt his feelings, she pulled the ribbon off the box and found a note underneath.

These reminded me of you, Nani. Precious and simply beautiful.

Sasha smiled at Joe, and noted how his shoulders relaxed at the gesture. She lifted the lid off the box and gasped.

Nestled in Tiffany blue satin was a white diamond and pearl necklace with a teardrop diamond pendant. Lying in the middle of the necklace was a pair of matching diamond earrings. The stones sparkled and the pearls had an iridescent glow that reflected in the light. With wide eyes, Sasha lifted the necklace out of the box. It was smooth and cool to the touch. They took Sasha's breath away. "Baby, they're fabulous."

"Put on the earrings. I'll help you with the necklace." He came to stand behind her, taking the necklace from her and unclasping it. He draped it around her neck, and her fingers touched the pendant as it lay on her collarbone. Turning her around to face the mirror, he raked his gaze over her and ran his fingertip under her necklace against her skin. Sasha stared back at her reflection, feeling very much like a Princess on her way to the Ball.

Joe rested his chin on her shoulder and placed his hands on her waist, his gaze meeting hers in the mirror. "You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he whispered.

She smiled shyly at him, her eyes soft and loving. "Thank you. You clean up pretty well yourself, handsome."

Gently kissing her cheek, he straightened and checked his tie in the mirror. "Ready to go?" he said.

Checking that she had her clutch bag, she nodded. "So we're going in the rental?"

"Nope," said Joe. "There's a limo waiting outside for us."

"A limo," Sasha repeated.

"Mm-hmm." He eyed her, amused by the frown on her face. "Or would you rather we walked to the venue?"

At the sarcastic statement, she cut her eyes sharply to him, making him laugh. "The limo it is," he surmised.

Ensuring the lights in the house were switched off, the couple exited, Sasha's hand tucked in the crook of Joe's elbow. Sure enough, a black stretch limousine sat outside the house. The driver was outside waiting, and he opened the back door for them. Joe helped Sasha inside first before following behind her. She settled in the plush leather seating, skimming over the interior of the limousine with bemused eyes.

Joe turned to her, seeing the look of bewilderment on her face. He weaved his fingers through hers, kissing the back of her hand and looking into her eyes. "I know you're not used to things like this, Sash. But I want you to be," he said. "You're my woman, my queen, and I plan to keep treating you as such."

His queen. It still astonished her how into her he was, just like she was into him. She rested her head on his shoulder, feeling his arm wind around her hip and his other fingers link through the ones she placed on his chest. As he kissed her temple, Sasha shut her eyes and tried to convince herself that she wasn't dreaming.

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The anniversary party was being held at a country club that Joe's family belonged to. It was the biggest ballroom Sasha had ever seen, decorated beautifully with themes of red and white and colorful flower centerpieces, twinkling lights and candles. A red guestbook branded with Sika and Patricia's name sat at the entrance for everyone to sign in. Up to a hundred guests of relatives and friends were scheduled to appear and it looked like most of them were already here. A live band was stationed at a visible corner tuning up.

"This is amazing," Sasha gushed, looking around. "Cassie definitely did a great job."

Joe smiled widely. "She did. Come on, let me introduce you to some people." He snatched up two glasses of champagne from a waiter and handed one to her as they began mingling about the vast room. They met uncles, aunts, cousins, friends, acquaintances and strangers. They were polite to Sasha, but their focus was firmly on Joe. The big TV star, the newest shining diamond in the Anoa'i family. Sasha stood quietly next to him, watching them all fuss over him. They asked about his injury and his recovery, some speaking Hawaiian or Samoan, and he answered every question, more graciously with the older guests, and less formal with his age peers. The room was quickly filling with people, and Joe stayed close to Sasha's side, his hand resting protectively on her lower back as he showed her off to everyone.

Of course, her handsome, famous boyfriend caught the eye of several ladies. Their looks lingered for too long and their gazes bored into the couple's backs as they mingled. There was one in particular that fawned over Joe a little too much for Sasha's taste. She tossed her head back and laughed too loudly, leaned too closely and kept her hand on Joe's bicep. She was striking, tanned and toned with long black hair down to her waist and her red and white dress hugged her outstanding figure. It was obvious Joe knew her but it didn't make Sasha any less piqued. Excusing herself from a lady she was talking with, she sidled over to Joe, who smiled brightly as she approached. "Hey," she said, noting how the woman’s flirtatious smile instantly converted to a scowl as she eyed Sasha rudely.

"Hey babe. I was about to come pry you away from Aunt Miriam. She can be quite chatty," Joe said with a laugh.

"She was alright," said Sasha, casting a pointed gaze on the stranger. Putting a hand on Sasha's waist, Joe gestured to the girl. "Sasha, meet Chrissy. Chrissy, this is my girlfriend Sasha. Chrissy and I went to high school together."

"We dated, actually," Chrissy announced proudly.

It wasn't lost on Sasha how eager the girl was to make that little tidbit known. "Oh, how nice."

With a tight, dismissive smile at Sasha, Chrissy refocused on Joe. The other woman could have been air for all she cared. "Come Joey, let's take a picture," she said, holding up her camera.

"Okay. But only for you though," said Joe.

"I could take it for you if you want," Sasha offered, playing nice. For now.

A derisive smirk formed on the younger woman's face. "Are you sure? I mean, the camera's a little hi-tech," she said.

"I'm sure I can handle a Canon 700D, darling," Sasha said, the statement evidently taking Chrissy aback. The floozy probably didn't even know the name of her own camera.

Chrissy forced a smile and thrust the camera into Sasha's hands, causing her to almost drop it. Joe put his arm around Chrissy for the photo, and Sasha noticed how she placed her hand over his, making the pose more intimate than it should have been. When she was done, Chrissy took the camera from her, uttering one of the most insincere 'thank you's that Sasha had ever heard. "How long are you in town for?" Chrissy asked Joe. "We should get together. Catch up." She batted her fake eyelashes, and Sasha wanted to shove them into her eyeballs.

Joe's smile was apologetic. "Sorry, Chris. I'm only here for the weekend, and I plan on spending it with my girlfriend," he replied, holding Sasha closer to him and smiling down at her. The mother of two kept her expression calm but inwardly she was doing cartwheels and snapping her fingers in the girl's face.

Clearing her throat, Chrissy flashed another false smile. "Well then...it was great to see you again, Joey. Don't be a stranger, huh?" Eyeing Sasha up and down, she said, "Nice to meet you...Ma'am." Without another word, she sauntered away.

Ignoring the petty jab, Sasha shook her head at the retreating girl and raised an eyebrow at her boyfriend. "Joey, huh?" she smirked.

Joe cringed. "I am really sorry about that."

"Chrissy and Joey," Sasha sang.

"Oh god, stop. I hate being called Joey. Always have, but I guess she never got the memo."

"She seems interesting, I'll give you that." That was the most polite adjective she could find.

"Yeah...she was a handful even back then but I'd rather not delve into that," he said. "I'm interested in only one woman now."

Her lip turned up on one side. "Really? Enlighten me."

"Just this sassy, hot as fuck restaurant manager that I'm head over heels in love with. You might know her," He grinned. "She's got the prettiest smile, the softest skin and the sexiest ass I've ever seen or touched. Total MILF."

"Hmm. Does she know you feel this way about her?"

"She does. And it turns out she's in love with me too." Handing her a fresh glass of champagne, he held her close and leaned down to whisper in her ear, "You look so gorgeous tonight, nani. I can't take my eyes off of you."

His smile was possessive yet loving, and Sasha warmed at his words. He really was suave and smooth, wasn't he?

"Ladies and gentlemen, please find your seats," the live band leader announced over the microphone. "The guests of honor will be arriving shortly."

Joe and Sasha were seated at the head table with his parents, his siblings and their spouses. She politely greeted the spouses before giving each of the siblings a warm hug. "Cassie, this is an amazing party. You did a great job."

"Thanks Sasha. Come on, come sit down before my parents show up," she said, and Joe guided Sasha to her seat between him and Cassie.

The ballroom door swung open, and the couple of the hour walked into the hall to thunderous applause. Sika stopped midway to dip Patricia down low and kiss her tenderly to more applause. Patricia blushed furiously. Sasha couldn't stop smiling. Patricia was wearing a beautiful red evening dress and Sika was in a black suit and red tie. They looked young and happy and still very much in love. As they made their way through the crowd to their table, they stopped to shake hands and give hugs to other guests. Sasha turned to Joe and grinned up at him.

"They look so happy. I'm happy for them."

"Me too," said Joe, as his parents came over. Patricia hugged Sasha tightly on her way to her seat. "I'm so glad you could come, Sasha."

"I'm very happy to be here, Patricia. Happy anniversary. You look beautiful."

"Thank you." They exchanged kisses on the cheek before Patricia enfolded Joe into a hug.

Sika swept Sasha up in his gigantic arms, all smiles. "Hello, dear. Glad you could make it."

"Happy anniversary." Sasha swallowed. Their last meeting hadn't ended pleasantly. "Sika, I-"

He shushed her gently. "I deserved it, sweetheart. But it's all good. No harm no foul. We're celebrating tonight."

As everyone settled down, Sika stood up, tapped his water glass with his spoon and the room hushed. A microphone was handed to him. "I want to thank you all for coming tonight, and extend a special thank you to my lovely daughter, Cassandra, for making all of this happen," he spoke, his deep voice reverberating around the quiet room. "Folks, if you want a party or an event organized, call her up. As you can see, it will be money well spent."

Laughter and applause rippled around the room at the plug. Sika smiled down at Patricia and she blushed prettily. "I am so blessed. I have had the honor and privilege of spending every day with the most incredible person I've ever met for forty years. We've known each other for even longer and I wouldn't change a single moment of it. Patty, la'u pele...you are my best friend, the love of my life. I'd say 'I do' a thousand times over. Thank you for putting up with my crazy self, for our four beautiful children, and for teaching me how to make oka properly."

Everyone laughed again, and Patricia wiped a tear from the corner of her eye and grinned at her husband. Joe held onto Sasha's hand, his eyes fixed on his parents.

"Happy anniversary, baby. Here's to another forty years." Patricia stood amongst the applause and Sika kissed her soundly.

Dinner was served a few minutes later. As the guests ate, a video package rolled of the couple's life together for the past forty years. Joe and his siblings made several appearances in the video in varying ages, including four-year-old Alma and two-year-old Matt as ring bearers at their parents' wedding day. A few loved ones who couldn't make it to the celebration sent in videos congratulating the couple. The Fatu twins, Jon and Josh, were among them as well as the one and only Dwayne 'The Rock' Johnson, to the guests' delight. Patricia was dabbing her eyes with a napkin and Sasha felt the urge to join her. It was really beautiful and emotional.

The band began to play 'Endless Love' by Lionel Richie and Diana Ross, and Sika got to his feet. "I believe this is our song, beautiful," Sasha heard him say to Patricia. He took her hand and everyone watched as he moved her effortlessly across the dance floor. They came together, gazing at each other as though they were the only two people in the room.

"Your parents are so in love," Sasha murmured to Joe.

"Yeah, it's kinda gross sometimes." He shook his head, but his grey eyes twinkled with humor. "Come on, let's go join them."

Sasha looked out onto the dance floor and saw other couples getting up to join the Anoa'is. "Thought you don't like dancing," she taunted.

"For my folks, I'll make an exception," said Joe, standing up. "If I step on you I'll massage your feet when we get home."

Sasha accepted his extended hand and rose to her feet. "I'm holding you to that."

They went out to the dance floor, and Joe pulled her into his arms as she circled hers around his neck, gliding along the floor to the classic song. Sasha cupped his cheek in her hand, her insides heating up when he turned his face to kiss her palm. He held her tightly against him and laid a soft, sweet kiss on her lips, gazing into her eyes. "I love you, baby girl."

"I love you too," she smiled, letting him kiss her a couple more times before she rested her head on his shoulder as they swayed along to the soft music. This had turned out to be a magical night. She caught sight of Sika and Patricia a few feet away. He whispered something in her ear and she grinned, instantly flushing crimson. Watching them together, reveling in four decades of wedded bliss, Sasha realized she wanted that too. She wanted this to be her and Joe's celebration in forty years' time, the two of them still as giddy as they were the day they married and with their children toasting to their longevity. She wanted it all, and it was a dream that deep down she wished one day would come true.

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CHAPTER 39

#roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns smut #into the deep end #msbigredmachine

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klaineanummel · 7 years

Text

i might get your heart racing 1/3

When Blaine Anderson’s plan to lose his virginity to Sebastian Smythe goes awry, he finds comfort in the arms of the last person he expected - Kurt Hummel, known throughout Dalton Academy as “the de-virginator”

guess who's back... back again~

this is really, really, really loosely based on an old kurtbastian GKM prompt. basically the only thing i kept from the prompt was the idea of kurt being a "de-virginator", but you know, credit where credit is due.

i know it doesn't seem like that long ago since I posted the final part of my ANWTK verse, but I finished writing that in November, so writing this felt really good since it had been a while.

there's three chapters to this fic. i'll be posting over the course of three days :) hope you all enjoy, and see you all tomorrow :D

warnings: minor seblaine (doesn’t get very far), underage drinking. i think that’s it?

Also on AO3

The party is already in full swing when Blaine arrives (fashionably late, he tells himself, but mostly late because of the bus). The music is loud, and the people are louder. Everyone is dancing, drinking, or making out. For the first time since he decided he wanted to do this Blaine is feeling nervous. This isn’t his scene, at all. It never has been. He’s only been to one party before in his life, and it ended with him as the only sober person in the room, talking to a wasted Kurt Hummel about Broadway musicals, of all things. Which was fun, of course, but not exactly what Blaine pictured his first house party would be like.

Tonight is going to be different, though. Tonight he is going to drink, he is going to dance, and then he’s going to lose his virginity to Sebastian Smythe. He refuses to let it play out any other way.

He sees Sebastian almost as soon as he arrives. He’s leaning against the wall, a red solo cup in hand, talking to a couple of the Warblers. Blaine smirks, runs his hands over his jeans (they’re dangerously sweaty), and makes his way over.

They’re all laughing when Blaine sidles up to them, a casual smile on his face. “Hey Wes, David! Thad,” he pats Wes on the back, nodding at each Warbler in turn. “It’s awesome to see you guys.” He then turns his head ever so slightly toward Sebastian, barely making eye contact. “Hey, Sebastian,” he says; a throw-away. He instantly turns back to his friends. “When did you all get here?”

“An hour ago, when the party started,” Wes says, raising an eyebrow. “I’m surprised to see you here. I thought you were planning on working on that French essay tonight.”

Blaine shrugs. “Oh, I was, but I got bored. Figured I could find something more entertaining over here.” He turns his head toward Sebastian again, though this time he makes sure to make eye-contact. Sebastian’s eyes lower to his body, and Blaine smirks. He looks away, patting Wes’s shoulder and saying, “I’m going to get a drink. See you guys around?”

He hears David saying, “Who the hell was that, and what has he done with Blaine?” as he walks away. He makes sure to sway his hips a bit, feelings his jeans digging into his waist as he walks. They’re a little too tight, but he needed something that draws the attention to his ass. He knows just as well as the rest of the school that Sebastian is an ass man.

He reaches the drink table and pours some punch into a cup, instantly taking a sip. It tastes like piss, and Blaine wants nothing more than to pour it right back into the bowl, but he has a plan goddammit. And so far that plan is working.

“Blaine?” a familiar voice asks, and Blaine turns to see Kurt Hummel standing behind him, eyebrows raised and hands in his pockets. Blaine glances back to where Sebastian is, smirking as he sees that a dark look has crossed the other boy’s face.

This wasn’t part of his plan, but oh, if it doesn’t work in his favour.

“Hey, Kurt,” Blaine says, taking another drink of the hell-punch. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m… fine,” Kurt says, glancing around the Smythe’s living room, brow furrowed. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

Blaine laughs, probably a little too hard. “Why does everyone keep saying that?” he says, shaking his head and rolling his eyes, an easy smile coming to his lips.

Kurt’s eyes narrow a bit. “Um, maybe because the last time you came to a party you told me that it was the worst thing you’d ever experienced and that you would rather spend the evening staining the auditorium stage than at another one of these?”

Blaine’s eyebrows raise in surprise. He can’t believe that Kurt remembered that. The boy had been absolutely plastered when Blaine said that to him.

“Right,” he says, clearing his throat. He glances back to Sebastian, making sure he’s still watching. He is. “Well, I changed my mind. Decided to give it another chance.” He drinks some more of the punch, and Kurt winces as he watches him.

“Don’t drink that,” he says, taking the cup from Blaine’s hands. “It’s basically gasoline.”

Blaine pouts. “I like it,” he lies.

Kurt snorts. “No, you don’t. Come with me, I’ll make you something good.”

He wraps his long, slim fingers around Blaine’s wrist and starts to lead him toward the Smythe’s kitchen. Blaine bites down on his bottom lip. He turns his head, seeing Sebastian glaring daggers at Kurt.

Oh, yes, this is definitely working out better than anything he could have planned.

He stays close to Kurt as they weave between pockets of people. Blaine recognizes some of the Crawford Country Day girls from the last school dance they put on, and a few of the guys from school, but for the most part the house is full of strangers. He wonders how most of these people even got invited. It took him wearing his slacks from freshman year to Warbler’s practice two weeks in a row to even get Sebastian to look at him.

There’s quite a few people in the kitchen, but Kurt is clearly adept at maneuvering through the crowd. Blaine follows close behind him, feeling the warmth of Kurt’s back against his front and the fingers around his wrist tighten. As they squeeze through, he can’t help but catch a whiff of the cologne Kurt’s wearing.

It’s nice. Understated. Not as musky as the stuff the guys their age usually favor.

They reach the far counter, which is full of more alcohol than Blaine has ever seen in his life. Kurt gets to work right away, mixing several brightly colored drinks into a red solo cup, topping it off with some Sprite.

“Here,” he says. “I promise this’ll be better than that punch.”

Blaine takes it gently, fingers brushing against Kurt’s as he does. He takes a sip, then another.

“It’s fruity,” he says. Kurt grins, and he blushes. It’s fruity. Dear god. Could he be more obviously out of his depth?

“You like it?” Kurt asks. Blaine takes another drink, this one longer. He can barely taste the alcohol at all, which is amazing considering how many different types he saw Kurt put in here.

“It’s good,” he says, drinking a little more. He looks up at Kurt as he drinks and sees him smiling down at him, bottom lip trapped between his teeth.

Blaine takes yet another drink, the alcohol warm as it travels down his throat. “Do you want to dance?” he asks.

Kurt’s eyes widen, but he instantly nods. Blaine grins and holds out his hand. Kurt takes it, locking their fingers together, and maneuvering them back out into the living room.

He sees Sebastian as soon as he enters the living room. He’s still with the Warbler’s, but his eyes instantly find Blaine’s. Blaine raises an eyebrow, then turns his eyes back to Kurt.

“Right here,” he says, pulling on Kurt’s hand. “Let’s dance right here.”

Kurt turns to face him, and Blaine smiles. He starts to move his body to the rhythm of the music, not sure if he��s doing this right at all. He just makes sure that his ass is moving as much as possible, pointing it straight in Sebastian’s direction.

Kurt chuckles as he watches him. Blaine brings his cup up to his lips and drains the rest of it, raising a challenging eyebrow at Kurt as he does. When he’s finished, he crumples the cup in his hand and tosses it behind him, not even checking to make sure he didn’t hit anybody. Kurt’s lips part in surprise.

“You’re not dancing,” he says, continuing to awkwardly move his body.

Kurt shakes his head, and then, ever so gently, puts his hands on Blaine’s hips. “Like this,” he says, moving Blaine’s hips back and forth smoothly. Blaine allows Kurt to mold his body; after all, Kurt knows way more about how this works that Blaine.

He puts his arms on Kurt’s shoulders, surprised at how broad they feel. He’s rarely seen Kurt without his Dalton uniform, and when he has he’s never really paid attention to thinks like his shoulders, or his body in general.

Kurt starts to move against him, and Blaine can’t help but run his hands up and down Kurt’s shoulders as they dance.

He’s sort of starting to see why Kurt has the reputation that he does. Blaine’s always thought Kurt was attractive in a boy-next-door sort of way, but standing this close to him, dancing up against him, feeling his hands squeezing his hips… Kurt’s hot. Everything about him screams controlled strength, and Blaine can feel muscles under Kurt’s thin shirt that he never could have imagined would be there.

He’s hot, but not intimidatingly so. He’s masculine, but not aggressive. He’s sexual, but not in a blatant manner.

No wonder so many guys want to lose their virginities to him.

Speaking of which. “I’m surprised you aren’t here with a date,” Blaine says casually, hands moving from Kurt’s shoulders slightly down to his chest. Oh, he can definitely feel muscles under there.

Kurt shrugs. “I don’t actually come to these things with dates very often,” he admits.

Blaine raises an eyebrow. “But you always-”

“I don’t really want to talk about that,” Kurt says, cheeks dusted pink. Blaine moves his hands back up to Kurt’s shoulders, this time linking them together behind his neck.

“Why not?” he asks, moving his body slightly closer to Kurt’s. Kurt’s hands rise up to his waist, giving it a tight squeeze. “I’ve been told you’re very comfortable and open about your exploits.”

Kurt presses his lips together and glances away. “I’m sort of… taking a break from that,” he says. It comes out quieter than the rest of their conversation has been, and Blaine has to strain to hear him over the music.

“Oh?” Blaine asks. “Why?”

Kurt’s eyes meet his, his pupils wide. He licks his lips (nice, full, pink lips – how has Blaine never noticed his lips before?) and says, “I sort of have my eye on someone,” this time loud enough for Blaine to hear clearly.

Blaine’s eyebrows raise in surprise. He wouldn’t consider himself a particularly close friend of Kurt Hummel’s, but he knows him well enough to know that Kurt doesn’t date. Kurt has flings, conquests, one night stands. He thinks the longest relationship he remembers Kurt having lasted about three weeks.

“Who?” he can’t help but ask. He wants to know who the lucky guy is that’s making Kurt Hummel want to settle down. Whoever he is, he’s in for a treat if the nice shoulders Blaine has his forearms resting on are any indication.

Kurt looks over his face, then opens his mouth to speak. Before he can, though, there’s a tap on Blaine’s shoulder and he hears the smooth voice of Sebastian Smythe saying, “Do you mind if I cut in?”

Blaine turns toward him instantly, heart leaping in his chest. Oh, wow, he got so caught up in dancing with Kurt and his conversation with Kurt that he almost forgot why he was here. He grins at Sebastian and shakes his head. “He doesn’t mind. You don’t mind, do you Kurt?”

He barely spares Kurt a glance, keeping his eyes on Sebastian all the while. The boy is looking him up and down like he’s something to eat. A shiver runs down his spine.

“Uh. No. No, I guess,” Kurt mutters, but Sebastian is already pulling Blaine in by the waist. Blaine wraps his arms around Sebastian’s neck instantly, glad he briefly danced with Kurt first so that he sort of knows how to do this.

Blaine doesn’t know if Kurt leaves or if he’s still standing behind them. Sebastian’s hands are practically burning a hole through his shirt, and god, Blaine can’t wait to feel them on his bare skin. He’s heard amazing things about Sebastian’s sexual prowess and he is incredibly ready to find out for himself.

Sebastian pulls him closer, so they’re pressed together tight. He rests his chin against Blaine’s temple, and Blaine can feel his breath against his skin. He can’t help but grin, happy that Sebastian can’t see his face right now.

Yes, this night is going absolutely perfectly.

“I didn’t know you were friends with Kurt Hummel,” Sebastian whispers directly into his ear. His lips brush against his lobe, and Blaine shivers again.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he whispers back. He can feel Sebastian smirking as he lowers his hands to Blaine’s hips, and then slowly, carefully, back around to his ass. Blaine gasps, heart beat skyrocketing as Sebastian gives his ass a hard squeeze.

“I know you have the best ass I’ve ever seen,” Sebastian says. He squeezes again. “Do you want to go upstairs? I’d love to… get to know you better.”

It worked. His plan worked.

Blaine says, “Yes,” before he can even think about it. He feels like the breath has been stolen right out of his throat as Sebastian pulls away from him and takes his hand, instantly dragging him toward the stairs.

As they climb the stairs, Blaine glances down at the party below. His eyes catch on light blue one’s, and he sees that Kurt is standing close to where they were dancing together. Blaine gives him an excited thumbs up, even though Kurt probably doesn’t know what that means, then turns his attention back to the boy in front of him.

Sebastian leads him down a wide hallway, down to the third door on the left. It’s dark inside, but Sebastian doesn’t bother to turn on the light. He pulls Blaine inside, and then closes the door, instantly pushing Blaine against it.

It briefly knocks the breath out of Blaine’s lungs, though no more so than the mouth that soon covers his own.

His eyes flutter close as he lets himself be kissed by Sebastian Smythe, melting into it. He’s dreamed of this moment for so damn long – since he was a freshman, really – and it’s so much better than his fantasies.

Sebastian obviously knows how to kiss, and he seems to know that he knows how to kiss. He sucks on Blaine’s bottom lip expertly, then flicks his tongue against the seam of Blaine’s lips. Blaine opens them, allowing Sebastian to explore the inside of his mouth.

His hands come to where Blaine’s shirt is tucked into his pants, pulling it out instantly. He starts to lift it up and off, whispering, “Is this okay?” before he pulls it off completely. Blaine nods without any hesitation, and the article is on the floor.

Sebastian’s hands go to his waist and he turns them around. He meets Blaine’s lips again, walking him backward. Blaine doesn’t know what is happening, but he has his hands resting on Sebastian’s shoulders and he is shirtless in front of a boy for the first time in his life. He sort of doesn’t care what’s happening.

His knees hit the edge of a bed, and soon he tumbles onto it. He crawls backward, eyes staying on Sebastian as the boy pulls his own shirt off before climbing on top of him.

He settles his knees over Blaine’s hips, and one of Blaine’s hands comes up of its own volition to splay against Sebastian’s stomach. Oh, god, he’s so gorgeous. He always knew he would be, but seeing him like this…

Sebastian smirks down at him. “You’re so gorgeous,” he says, one hand coming up to cup Blaine’s face. His thumb rubs against Blaine’s lips. “Your fucking mouth.”

Blaine’s seen enough porn to know to open his lips and suck Sebastian’s thumb into his mouth.

Sebastian groans, then takes his hand away and brings both hands to his belt buckle.

Blaine sits up a little to watch as Sebastian pulls his belt out of the belt loops, licking his lips as Sebastian moves his hands instantly to his zipper.

He lowers it gently, pops the button, pulls his jeans down and…

Blaine’s jaw goes slack as he stares at a cock that isn’t his own for the first time in his life. Well, first time in person, that is.

It’s definitely bigger than his own, which intimidates Blaine a bit, but he’s determined to do this. He’s come this far, and he’s so damn close. He reaches a tentative hand out to wrap around Sebastian’s already hardening cock, but Sebastian stops him.

“Wh-”

“I want your mouth,” Sebastian says, staring down at him with pupils so dilated Blaine can barely see the green in his eyes.

Blaine licks his lips and his eyes go back to Sebastian’s cock.

His mouth? Fuck, Blaine wasn’t prepared for this. He’d fingered himself in the shower earlier, and he’d been practicing giving handjobs to bananas to figure out the angle, but he hadn’t practiced anything with his mouth. He didn’t think Sebastian would want that – he’d heard from several very good sources that Sebastian likes going straight to anal.

“Um, okay,” Blaine says quietly. He shifts a little closer, until he is face to face with Sebastian’s cock. It’s even more intimidating up close. “I, uh.” He clears his throat, feeling incredibly stupid. “I’ve never done this before so just… tell me if I do something wrong.”

He moves his mouth forward, parting his lips gently, closing his eyes. His lips make contact with the skin of Sebastian’s cock, much softer than he expected. He opens his mouth a little more, wanting to touch more of it, but then there’s a hand in his hair and he’s being pulled away.

Sebastian grips his hair tightly, pulling it so that Blaine stares up at him. He doesn’t look turned on anymore.

“You’re a virgin?!”

Sebastian spits the word virgin out like it’s something dirty. Blaine, who can still feel the skin of Sebastian’s cock against his lips, blushes deeply.

“Um. Yes?”

“Fuck,” Sebastian lets go of his hair and starts to tuck his cock back into his jeans. “You should have fucking told me earlier!”

Blaine frowns as he watches Sebastian’s cock disappear. “Why is it a problem?” he asks, looking back up at Sebastian. “I’m not going to chicken out, or whatever. I want to do this with you. I want you to be my first.”

“Don’t fucking say that,” Sebastian says, hurrying off the bed. He picks his shirt up and pulls it back on. “Look, Blaine, you’re super hot and all, but I don’t fuck virgins.”

Blaine’s eyes widen. “What?!”

“I don’t. fuck. virgins,” Sebastian repeats. He heads over to the door, picks up Blaine’s shirt, and tosses it at him.

“But… why?” Blaine asks, holding his shirt tight to his chest. He can see where Sebastian is still hard in his pants.

“Because virgins always get clingy as fuck,” Sebastian says. “I don’t need you hanging on to me like a limpet for the rest of the year, acting like we’re in fucking love because I was your first. Plus, no offense, but virgins aren’t exactly stellar in bed.”

Blaine feels like he just got punched in the stomach. “But…” he trails off, too embarrassed to say the words I want you to be my first.

“Look, Blaine,” Sebastian comes over to the bed and leans over, face close to Blaine’s. “You’re really hot. Like, really hot.” He smirks as his eyes go down to where Blaine is still shirtless. “This is just… a thing, for me. A deal breaker.” He leans forward and kisses Blaine, much softer than before. “Call me when you get rid of that pesky virginity, huh? I have no problem being a guy’s number two.”

He winks and then hurries out of the room, leaving Blaine sitting on his bed, clinging to his shirt, wondering how the hell things went so wrong so fast.

He never could have expected this turn of events. From what he’d read online he’d assumed that Sebastian would love that he was a virgin. Almost every porno he’d ever seen involved somebody having their first time, and he’d found multiple forums entirely dedicated to guys who got off on taking people’s virginity. He thought Sebastian would think it was hot.

Starting to feel a little light-headed from the earlier alcohol, Blaine pulls his shirt on and leaves the room. He hurries down the stairs and out of the house, not wanting to stop and talk to anybody.

He feels beyond humiliated. He may not come to a lot of these things, but he knows that Sebastian hooks up at almost every house party he throws. He’s never heard of a guy going upstairs with Sebastian Smythe and not returning absolutely well fucked.

It’s probably going to get out that Blaine wasn’t good enough for Sebastian. Everyone will know, and Blaine will never live it down. He’ll always be that guy that Sebastian Smythe refused to sleep with – and what’s worse is that he probably lost any chance of ever sleeping with Sebastian anyway. He’s wanted to for so long.

“Hey,” he hears a soft voice and turns to see Kurt sitting on the porch of Sebastian’s house. “I’m surprised to see you out here. Didn’t you just go upstairs with Sebastian like… five minutes ago?”

Blaine scoffs and shakes his head. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he says.

Kurt stands up and approaches him slowly. “Blaine…”

“Did you drive here?” Blaine asks. Kurt has a hand stretched out towards him, and it freezes.

“Um. Yes?”

“Are you drunk?”

Kurt shakes his head. “I haven’t had anything.”

Blaine glances back at the house, then says, “Can you drive me back to Dalton? I know I’m asking you to leave the party early, but-”

“No, it’s fine,” Kurt says. “I was, um. I was probably going to leave soon anyway.”

Blaine nods and follows Kurt down Sebastian’s stupidly long drive way. He’s parked near the gate, at the end of a long line of cars.

Blaine stumbles a little as he gets into the passenger seat. He fastens his seatbelt, then turns to look out the window, feeling hot tears of humiliation burning in his eyes.

It was all going so well. He got Sebastian’s attention, he made him jealous, they were kissing. Blaine had his mouth on Sebastian’s dick.

He shouldn’t have said anything. He should have just sucked Sebastian’s dick and let him fuck him and reveal that it was his first time after.

“Blaine?” Kurt says carefully, pulling out of his parking spot. Blaine shuts his eyes, as if that’s going to stop the tears from falling. “Are you crying?”

“God,” Blaine shakes his head, wiping under his eyes with the heel of his palm. “This is so… so pathetic. I’m sorry.”

“You, um,” Kurt cleared his throat as he started on a three point turn, pointing them toward the Smythe’s entrance gate. “You don’t have to tell me anything, but… whatever happened, you’re not pathetic. I swear.”

Blaine shakes his head again, and another tear runs down his cheek. “No, I am,” he says. “Do you even know how long it took me to be okay with the fact that I would probably only ever have one night with Sebastian?” He wipes the tear away. “Now I don’t even get that.”

The gate opens automatically when they stop in front of it. When he’d arrived, Blaine had felt very impressed by that.

“I didn’t realize you liked Sebastian,” Kurt murmurs as he turns onto the road.

Blaine snorts. “Yeah, well.” He picks at his jeans, his stupid, tight jeans. “I do. Not that it matters.” He leans his head against the window. “I was stupid to think I had a chance anyway.”

“Don’t say that,” Kurt says instantly. “Sebastian’s an idiot for turning you away.”

Blaine sits back up and glances at Kurt. Kurt is focused on the road, but there’s a hint of pink high on his cheeks.

Blaine settles more comfortably into his chair. “Can I ask you something?”

Kurt nods. “Anything.”

Blaine presses his lips together, trying to find the appropriate way to word his question. “Why – no,” he shakes his head and rubs his hands over his face. “You… Trent told me that you took his virginity.”

Kurt glances over at him, but looks away when he sees Blaine staring. “That’s not really a question.”

“And I know you took Chandler’s virginity; plus, you know… I’ve heard rumours.”

Kurt shifts in his seat. “I still don’t know what you’re asking.”

“Why do you like that? Taking people’s virginities? It seems like that’s… basically all you do.”

It’s what he’s known for, really, at Dalton. Last year, when Blaine was a sophomore, he heard four – four – gay guys mentioning that Kurt was their first time. While studying, a freshman one table over told his friend he was tired of being a virgin, and his friend mentioned Kurt’s name. At the other party Blaine went to, Kurt was greeted by a friend shouting “De-virginator is in the house!” which made Kurt blush and tell him to shut up.

Blaine tries not to pay attention to gossip (he doesn’t really care enough about any of it), but it’s hard to ignore a reputation like Kurt has. There’s only a few guys like that at Dalton, who everybody seems to know about, and, well, Blaine may be a bit of a homebody without that many friends, but even he’s not sheltered enough to not know about those guys.

“I don’t just take people’s virginities,” Kurt says, and Blaine sees that his face is even redder than before. “I… A lot of the guy’s I go out with just so happen to be virgins, but that’s not…”

“So you don’t like it?” Blaine asks, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

“I didn’t say that,” Kurt replies. “I just –” he stutters a little, then frowns. “Why do you want to know?”

Blaine sighs. He pulls a knee up to his chest and rests his cheek on it. “Sebastian says he doesn’t fuck virgins,” he says quietly. “He said it’s not worth the trouble, that virgins get too clingy, and that they’re bad in bed.”

Kurt doesn’t say anything for a few moments, and Blaine glances over to him. His knuckles are white on the steering wheel, and his lips are pressed tightly together. His brow is crinkled, jaw set.

He looks over at Blaine, and holds his gaze for a few moments before he turns back to the road.

“I know you like Sebastian,” Kurt finally speaks, voice quiet; controlled. “So please don’t take this the wrong way – but that’s exactly why I… do that.”

Blaine frowns. “I don’t understand.”

Kurt rolls his shoulders and flexes his fingers. “Look, last year… I mean, you know. I sort of got a reputation. But I want to make it clear that I never sought anybody out. I’m not some kind of… seducing player, or whatever.” His cheeks are bright red at this point, but his knuckles are still white. “It wasn’t as many as you’ve probably heard but…” he shakes his head. “That’s not the point. The point is that guys started approaching me. Asked me to help them out. And I didn’t…” he glances over at Blaine, and Blaine raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t want someone like Sebastian being their first instead, okay?”

Blaine’s frown deepens. “What do you mean? Sebastian doesn’t even-”

“Yeah, but he’s not the only gay guy in all of Ohio, you know?” Kurt says. “A lot of guys just don’t care if it’s your first time or your fiftieth. They just care about themselves, you know? And I may not be… I know I don’t look like Sebastian, or guys like him, but I’m nice, and I’m gentle, and I try my best to make it good.”

“Oh,” Blaine says quietly.

“Does that answer your question?” Kurt asks, voice soft.

Blaine nods. He lowers his foot to the floor and slumps in his seat, cheek falling against the window once more. “It does,” he says.

Silence takes over the car, and soon enough Kurt has reached out and turned on the radio, filling the void with songs far too similar to those blasting in Sebastian’s house.

Blaine feels like his brain is caught. He’s stuck in a constant loop between Sebastian kissing him and telling him to call him when he’s no longer a virgin, and Kurt quietly telling him that he likes to make it good for the guys he sleeps with.

He sucks on the inside of his cheek, thoughts whirring. He really, really, desperately wants Sebastian to be his first, which is why his mind instantly assumed he would simply never have a night with Sebastian ever, but…

Well, it’s not like he’s never going to have sex. He’s not going to die a sad, ninety-year-old virgin because the guy he had a crush on in high school didn’t want to sleep with him. Sure, he really likes Sebastian, but not that much.

He glances at Kurt out of the corner of his eye, chewing on his bottom lip. Earlier, before everything went wrong, Kurt was so nice to him. He talked to him, made him a drink, danced with him…

He didn’t have to. It’s not like he and Kurt are really friends. Sure, they hung out at that one party, and he saw Kurt a few times over the summer when he went to the Lima Bean, where Kurt worked, but they’re not close. There was really no reason for Kurt to be so friendly.

I try my best to make it good.

Blaine swallows thickly, heart stuttering in his chest.

Kurt isn’t exactly ugly, either. Incredible shoulders and slim muscles aside, he has a jawline to die for, and his eyes are the exact color of the ocean. As they’d danced, Blaine understood why people wanted to lose their virginity to Kurt, but now more than ever…

Kurt catches his eye and smiles softly. Blaine turns away quickly, cheeks burning in embarrassment at being caught. He stares at the road ahead, heart thumping in his chest.

He’s going to get over Sebastian eventually, right? Even if they spend the night together, it’s not like Sebastian is going to be his boyfriend. And Kurt has that guy he likes, so…

Would Kurt do that? Even with that guy he has his eye on in the picture? Clearly they aren’t together yet, so it’s not like he’d be cheating on him. And even if the guy is a virgin (as seems to be Kurt’s type), it’s not like Blaine would be taking too much from him. Kurt’s already slept with a good quarter of the student body at Dalton (or, so the rumors say). What’s one more before he gets with the love of his life?

His head is spinning, though he doubts it’s from the minimal amount of alcohol he consumed earlier. He glances at Kurt again, and sees that he still has a small smile on his face, body far more relaxed than it was earlier.

I try my best to make it good.

The gateway to Dalton appears, and Blaine sits up straighter in his seat. Kurt slows the car down until he reaches the small booth, manned by one of the many security guards.

“ID?” the man asks, and Kurt produces his student card in a second. It takes Blaine a little longer, brain trying to catch up after being lost in his own thoughts for some time. He hands his to Kurt, who gives it to the security guard.

The man glances between them. “You boys are out late,” he comments. “You both sign out?”

Both nod. The man looks back down at their ID’s, then hands them back to Kurt, nods his head, and opens the gate for them.

They remain silent as Kurt navigates the Dalton parking lot, finding his assigned lot and parking smoothly.

Blaine licks his lips as he undoes his seatbelt. He glances as Kurt once more and his heart stutters in his chest.

The boy really is gorgeous.

He steps out of the car, stuffing his wallet back into his pocket with a little difficulty. Kurt gets out as well, and the car behind them clicks loudly as Kurt locks the doors.

“Um,” Blaine wipes his hands on his jeans. “Will you walk me to my room? I don’t think I’m ready to be alone yet.”

Kurt nods instantly, smiling yet again. It’s like his face lights up when he smiles, and Blaine can just see it now, that beautiful smile above him as Kurt thrusts in and out of him gently.

He blushes and looks down to the ground.

Maybe he’s going too fast. It doesn’t have to be tonight. He can get to know Kurt better first. Hang out with him after class, at lunch. He wouldn’t exactly mind becoming friends with Kurt either way.

Still, he planned on losing his virginity tonight. He’s ready. Who cares if it isn’t with the guy he originally planned to lose it with?

Blaine swipes his student card in order to enter the dorm and holds the door open for Kurt, who follows him, thanking him quietly as he passes, giving Blaine a small, secret smile.

Does he know? Does he suspect?

He must. Blaine told him he was a virgin, and then had him explain why he sleeps with virgins. He must at least be considering…

They sign back in, with the security guard watching them carefully, clearly trying to sense if they’re intoxicated. She doesn’t say anything, though, and soon they’re standing in the dorm elevator, the ‘three’ button glowing as the elevator moves up slowly.

Kurt’s on the fifth floor, like most seniors. Blaine picks at the skin around his thumb. Will Kurt be taking this same elevator up there in just a few minutes, or tomorrow morning?

Blaine steps out of the elevator first, but makes sure not to walk ahead of Kurt, keeping step with him easily. They don’t say much, but it feels comfortable. Not like it had in the car.

They reach Blaine’s room, and Blaine takes a deep breath. Now or never.

“Thank you so much for being there for me tonight,” he says, leaning against his door and glancing up from beneath his lashes, hoping it looks as good as it does when the guys in porn do it.

“Of course,” Kurt says.

“I, um,” Blaine clears his throat. “I’m sorry you had to leave early because of me. The guy you like might have showed up. You could have had a shot with him.”

Kurt smiles, like he has a secret, and says, “Really, Blaine. Don’t worry about it.”

Blaine’s heart is going a mile a minute. He says, “I want to make it up to you.”

“Blaine, I’m serious. You don’t have to-”

Blaine cuts him off by moving forward, placing his hands on Kurt’s shoulders, and pressing their lips together.

It’s soft, sweet, nothing like the completely overtaking kiss he shared with Sebastian earlier. Kurt lets him lead, though he responds much better than Blaine had with Sebastian. His hands come back to Blaine’s hips, right where they’d been when they were dancing, and Blaine presses himself even closer.

He breaks the kiss, but stays close.

“Blaine…” Kurt breathes out his name, like a prayer, and a shiver runs down Blaine’s spine. He could definitely get used to hearing that.

“Do you, um.” Blaine fiddles with one of Kurt’s shirt buttons. “Do you want to come inside?”

Kurt’s eyes flutter open slowly. He looks over Blaine’s face, chest heaving. Blaine pops the button he’s been playing with free, making his intentions as clear as he can.

Kurt’s eyes shut again and he takes a step back. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” The words sound like they are physically painful to speak, and feel like a slap in the face.

“What?” Blaine gasps. “Why not?”

Kurt shakes his head. “It’s… it’s been a long night. You’ve been through a lot.”

“With you,” Blaine says, stepping back into Kurt’s space. “You were there for me, all night. I want…” he undoes another button carefully. “I want you to be there for me again.”

Kurt just shakes his head again. He takes Blaine’s hands in his and brings them up to his lips, kissing his knuckles so softly it barely feels like a caress.

“You have no idea how hard it is for me to say no to you right now,” he whispers. “But it’s not…” he meets Blaine’s eyes, and Blaine can see how conflicted he is. “It’s not a good time. Not tonight.”

Somehow, this feels worse than Sebastian’s rejection. This is Kurt. The de-virginator of Dalton Academy.

If Kurt doesn’t want to sleep with him, who the hell will?

“Right,” Blaine says. He pulls his hands to himself. “I understand.”

“Blaine,” Kurt says before Blaine can even begin turning away. He cups Blaine’s face in his hands and tilts his jaw up. He presses a kiss to Blaine’s bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth after a few moments. Blaine feels his knees go weak and he clutches at Kurt’s shoulder.

Kurt’s tongue sweeps over Blaine’s bottom lip, and then he’s gone. Blaine leans his face forward, chasing Kurt’s lips, eyes opening slowly. He didn’t even realize he’d closed them.

“Do you want to have lunch tomorrow?” Kurt asks, stroking the apple of Blaine’s cheek with his thumb.

His eyes are so, so beautiful. Blaine feels like he’s drowning in them.

He nods. “Yeah,” he says, breathless.

Kurt smiles. “Great,” he says. He leans back in for a short peck, barely giving Blaine time to respond before he’s moving away. “I’ll pick you up at one?”

“One,” Blaine repeats, nodding slowly.

“One,” Kurt repeats back, and then he’s gone, back down the hall and into the elevator. Blaine falls back against the wall by his door, lips tingling, feeling far less rejected than he did a few moments ago.

It isn’t until he’s tucked in bed that night, head swimming with thoughts of Kurt, that he remembers why he kissed Kurt in the first place.

Chapter Two

#klaine fic #klaineanummel fic #klaine au #klaine #multi chapter #virgin!blaine

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