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saturnville · 10 months

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nightmare

45. “I had a nightmare about you and wanted to make sure you were okay.”

author’s note: this was a part two that i never realized could be a part two until someone inboxed me and asked for a continuation of “the soldier’s lady.” this sat in my drafts for two years. so thank you to the supporter whose message encouraged me to finish it 🫶🏾 @queen-dk

Alone he was. Alone, frozen, starved, and afraid. Lost between the beautiful, green mazes. Surrounded by thick stumps covered in damp moss, assaulted by crawlers at every direction, destroyed by his enemies.

Voice too coarse, too far gone to utter even a prayer to the Master he served. His hand, covered in blood and gashes filled with dirt and debris, clasped around his throat. His dry lips parted and nothing more than a small gasp dribbled out.

He cleared his throat. A sandpaper-like substance shimmied along the sides of his throat. He spat it out on a pile of crushed leaves and opened his mouth once more, managing to call out. He was greeted with silence.

Painfully, he scrambled to his feet. A string of obscenities passed his lips. His hands patted his waist in search for his sword. He only felt the tattered fabric of his kilt. Through blurred vision, he searched around, circling himself for his sacred weapon.

Loudly, he cried out again. He was answered with the rustling of the leaves and the clapping of a dangerous thunder. His chest heaved as he looked around, stumbling in every which direction.

Alone, he was. Alone, frozen, starved, and afraid.

She awoke suddenly with a gasp. Thin lavender slip damp with sweat, soft skin heated from distress, she sat up slowly. Her eyes darted around the dark room, save for a beam of moonlight against her bed frame.

With a shaking hand, she brushed the stump of her hand across her forehead, sweeping away the perspiration that rested there.

Her non-dominant hand forced the warm covers off her body. Slowly, she swung her slender legs across the edge of the bed. They dangled, her heels jabbing the wooden frame.

A soft breath flew passed her dry lips. Her hands were a net for her head as she buried her face within her palms. Her cardiac muscle beat harder than wooden sticks against the tenor drums she saw a young boy playing weeks ago.

He was back home, yet subconsciously, she still worried for his well-being, for his safety. For almost two weeks, he’d been walking through the halls of the estate, healthy and strong in stature. Her worry was no longer necessary, but it never seemed to subside.

Theo nibbled along the inside of her cheek. Should she do it, she thought to herself. The young woman reached across her pillow and snatched her robe that warmed it, sliding it over her arms.

Her bare feet smoothed the cold floors as she padded around her bed and out of her bedroom. She started straight down the hallway and made a sharp left turn. In front of his bedroom door she stood. Hesitantly, she knocked softly.

A warm light peaked from the bottom of the door and gentle movements could be heard from the other side. She twiddled her fingers around a loose thread on the stomach of her slip.

After a few moments, the door opened. Theo smiled awkwardly, feeling small under his naturally intense gaze. She had trouble lifting her head to meet his.

“Why’re ye up, lass?” His voice was like water on a hot day—clear and crisp. Aila rolled her shoulders then shrugged.

“Had a nightmare about you,” she said quietly, her eyes nowhere near his. “Wanted to make sure you were okay...”

The man cracked a smile. His teeth peeked from behind his pink lips. Such a pretty sight, she thought to herself. He said nothing, only opened the door wider and nodded for her to enter.

She was hesitant. It was the first time she’d been in his room in the wee hours of the night. Theo stood in the middle of his bedroom, eyeing the knickknacks and other articles around. His desk was in the corner and it was littered with papers, some of them smeared with dark ink she assumed he knocked over.

His clothes were folded messily and tossed on a chest to her right. She shook her head. His messiness would never go away, it seemed.

Ahead of her, the flames of the fireplace danced and leapt swiftly.

“Tell me about this nightmare,” he asked of her. He palmed the door and closed it gently. Theo tore her eyes away from the fire and wrapped her arms around herself. Jamie moved to sit on his bed, hands rubbing his covered thighs.

“You were alone,” she started, eyes locked on the dancing flames in front of her. “had spent days alone in an area you did not know. Cold, starved, and afraid. No one could get to you.”

Jamie cocked his head to the side.

“I had nightmares like that all the time when you were gone.” Her voice was so small that he could hardly hear her. “I was scared you’d die out there alone. Hell, I thought you were dead the whole time you were gone.”

“Theo...” he inched towards her. His large hand cupped hers gently. “Ye should know ye canna get rid of me that easily.”

“You say that like you’re made of metal,” Jamie chuckled with a shake of her head. While any other time she would’ve scolded him for joking in a serious matter, she couldn’t help but feel the weight lift from her shoulders. He didn’t think she sounded ridiculous.

“Might as well be...come here, lass.”

With no sense of urgency, Theo’s legs carried her slowly to his bed. The weight was back. His soft demand made her nervous.

Jamie sensed her uneasiness and smiled. “Why’re ye nervous?”

“I...I don’t know,” she mumbled. Again, he ushered her over and she joined him on the bed. It was comfortable, she thought, as the bed dipped just slightly. Jamie laid against the pillow, while Aila sat upright, her legs crossed and her hands in her lap.

“You’re kind of intimidating,” Theo said after some moments. She turned her head and saw an amused grin on his beautiful lips.

“Is that so?”

Theo nodded. She scooted closer to him, finding it easier to relax. She shimmied onto her back and stared at the ceiling. Jamie turned his head to look at her. “Yeah. Maybe it’s your eyes. They’re pretty but intense. Or the scowl you always wear. You’re gonna mess around and lock your features into place.”

A hearty laugh fell from his lips which pulled a giggle from hers. “You truly believe me that?” Theo nodded . “Indeed, I do.”

“I thought about ye all the time,” Jamie said after some time. The portraits on the wall seemed to be less important as her attention was pulled from them. She met his eyes, “what?”

“I’m convinced,” he started. “that if I hadn’t thought of ye the way I did, I wouldn’t have survived. Ye were the one thing I held onto, Theo. I ken I had to come back to ye.”

“You’re just saying that,” she blew off bashfully. She moved to turn her head to face the ceiling but his hand grazing her skin halted the movement.

“No,” he said lowly. “Ye were the only thing I had to hold onto. And...ye mean a lot to me, lass.”

Theo found herself smiling. It was awkward and her lips quivered as they curled upwards, but nevertheless, she smiled a smile he found beautiful.

Jamie’s eyes fell from his eyes to her lips, tempting to pull her head close to his face and just taste them. He wondered if she tasted like the tea she drank twice a day—once in the morning and once a night.

“Can I...”

“...please,” she breathed.

He wasted no time in bringing his mouth to hers. She released a mewl of satisfaction. Her hands found his hair, and she gripped his frizzed curls tightly. He groaned softly into her mouth and she swallowed his sounds like a delicious meal.

His hands shook as they took place on her thighs. His fingers dug into the flesh and she whimpered softly. Theo’s fingers raked through his hair and massaged his scalp. Achaius felt his insides twist like a freshly wrung towel.

He'd never thought the day would come where he'd confess his feelings for her, let alone have her rocking on his lap like a ship on water and assaulting his neck. He enjoyed it more than words could explain.

"Jamie," she whimpered when it became too heated. She wanted him, but she couldn't put herself in such a position at the given moment. If they continued on, she was convinced things would've escalated in a manner she was unaware if she was ready for. “Can we just—“

Jamie sensed her growing anxiousness and tore his lips off of hers, and placed his hands on her middle back. His ocean eyes bore into hers and she was convinced if she stared long enough, they’d turn into a whirlpool and suck her in. Jamie brought her hand to kiss lips and kissed it gently. “Rest. And when you wake up, I’ll still be here. I promise.”

Theo nodded and rolled over to her side. She didn’t make it too far, as Jamie’s arm bracketed her to his side. She giggled softly, but accepted his closeness nonetheless.

“Good night, Theo.”

“Good night, Jamie.”

#saturnville #original writing #original content #original characters #original story #black!reader #jamie fraser x reader #jamie fraser fluff #jamie fraser x black reader #jamie fraser x female reader #jamie fraser x black!reader #the soldier’s lady pt 2 #old fic turned new #historical drama #inspired by outlander #outlander #outlander x female reader #outlander x reader

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angelwithdemonictendencies · 4 months

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all my life i've been frozen, forgive me if i wince at your warmth; kiss my blue lips and say the frost brings out my eyes.

jd6 x reader: maybe roommates wasn't the best idea (sugar pt. 2).

(warnings: blasphemous filth (we're back, and this is a good one), unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), oral sex (f on m), hair pulling and spit and all my usual stuff (you guys know. legs and lips and all that nonsense). lots of whining and whimpering from the ducks defenseman with the giant traps. descriptions of general insecurity (but of course!). know yourself and your limits, please don't read if you're not 100% sure).

(a/n: alright, my favorites. here you have it, the promised continuation of my jd6 sugar piece from halloween (so please read that here first so this makes sense)! and yes, it's long (11.1k), so thank you, as always, for your support and kindness and patience and gentleness. congratulations to jd6 for his return to the big leagues. this is his prize, i'm sure he'll be thrilled. it appears it's impossible for me to write a story without using tz11 as a comedic side character. obviously there is nothing realistic about this, such is the upside of fictitious writing. can you tell i had an idea for like two scenes and then filled in all the blanks? (been wanting to write gaming chair head for a million years). if you relate to the more serious insecurities addressed within this story, know i'm here for you. please believe that it is so utterly and completely fathomable that people are and will be attracted to and interested in you! anyways, please let me know what you think (and who/what you want next)! go canucks (and all-star qh43). until next time, all my love).

it had taken little convincing on either side for jamie to move in with you. it was sort of funny, how not so long ago, it had been only you in your apartment, and now he was there, too, evidence of him all around.

a few months in, you had almost forgotten what the fridge looked like without his recovery drinks lining the shelves, what the living room smelled like without his favorite candle burning, what the mudroom looked like without his shoes and bags littered around the door.

you had grown accustomed to him, in his entirety, and the more he revealed about himself, the more trouble you had remembering what this place had been like without him.

it seemed so crucially important that you knew about his culinary endeavors (he was trying ever so hard to branch out beyond chicken and rice). it seemed of the utmost significance that you understood all of his favorites of everything, and that he knew all of yours in return. because if you didn't, one of you might bring home a flavor of ice cream the other didn't like, or flowers the other didn't like the color of, or something like that.

and if he didn't know the names of your favorite movies, how would he be able to talk to you about them? and if you didn't have a little bit of a grasp on the gaming world, how could you keep up when he rambled on about it?

you told yourself it was only polite that you knew about his interests, and his family, and his friends, and his dreams. that he was only being polite when he asked about all of yours.

you were sort of shocked at how quickly he had made his presence known within your routine. his schedule merged with yours on the calendar attached to the fridge. his friends came over to play video games, yours to watch movies.

you were proud of yourself for how you had handled his moving in, really, but you'd be lying if you said he didn't have an effect on you. he was the same blushing, stuttering, beautiful boy who had dropped that plant in your doorway, after all.

and you were acutely aware of the effect he had on you, from that very first day. he didn't seem to let you forget it, like the night, a few days into your new arrangement, when you went into the kitchen around midnight to get a glass of water.

something you had done, time and time again, almost every night, alone. so you were startled, to say the least, when you felt a figure behind you. you whipped around, your heartbeat elevated, thudding in your chest, in your neck.

you placed a hand over your heart to still yourself when you recognized that shaggy dark hair, square face, broad build.

"fuck, jamie," you practically whispered, your voice tense, "you scared me." you made to pour him a glass of water, willed your body to emerge from danger mode.

"'m sorry, petal," he murmured, and his tone alone could have set your body ablaze, rumbling through you like an earthquake. "didn't mean to." apology thickened his words like cornstarch.

"'s okay," you said as you passed him the glass, took a sip from your own.

if it was light you would have seen his eyes track the motion, how his gaze seemed to get stuck on your lips around the rim of your glass.

there was something very heavy about sharing this space with him, especially now, in the cover of the night. you felt freer, almost indulgent, in taking him in. less guilty in your secret wanting. suddenly your brow furrowed in concern. "did i wake you up?"

he shrugged, took a sip of his water, which made your swallow shaky. "walls are thin," he rasped. "just wanted to make sure you were okay."

your exhale was shallow as you took in his words. this exchange in the dark was too dangerous, too much. you made to go back to your room, stopping to place a wanting palm on his corded shoulder as you passed him. you felt him flex instinctively under your touch, suddenly wanted, simultaneously, to be anywhere but here and to never leave. "thanks for checking on me, jamie," you whispered. it seemed to have been so long since someone had done that.

there was a pause full of uncertainty. "'course," he replied, rough and rolling.

you were so, so, close, and such a predicament could have ignited the foundation of the building in all of its seriousness.

that exchange, so early on in knowing him, nonetheless had you promising yourself that you wouldn't let your relationship with jamie grow beyond anything besides roommates. just roommates, you said, and that's it. anything past that boundary was too dangerous, too charged, too soaked in meaning and feeling and wanting.

but such a promise was proving hard to keep, even months later. because as comfortable as you had grown to each other, there was something so deliriously uncomfortable about being so close to each other, so ridiculously entwined in each others' days, and yet not touching, not indulging the desire you both so felt. so scared to look desperate, to be caught red handed in want, even if that was exactly true.

regardless, such a promise was proving hard to keep, especially on days like today.

you were sitting at the kitchen counter, one leg pulled up to your chest as you sat on a stool. you still worked at the same coffee shop, and you still loved it, but you had picked up some copywriting jobs here and there, too.

naturally, you looked up when you sensed another figure enter the room. your gaze caught on a very sleepy jamie with a very sleepy smile.

"morning," he said, his voice rough and raspy with remnants of night.

you felt your mouth tick upwards in response to his presence. "morning, jamie," you replied, shifting on your stool, willing jittery attraction out of your voice, out of your head. there was no space for that here, you told yourself. you cleared your throat as he made himself a cup of tea. "doing anything fun today?"

he turned to you, leaned his frame back against the counter, a movement so comfortable it made you blush. he hummed, thinking, before meeting your eyes. "nothing out of the routine," he mused, his gaze on you making you feel his attention in your feet, in the tips of your fingers. "when're you working? maybe i'll swing by."

your chest thumped at the thought of him taking time to come see you, even though that wasn't necessarily rare anymore. he visited your coffee shop at least once a week, but the sentiment of it all wasn't lost on you. the preciosity of someone deeming you worthy of a drive, however short.

you leaned on your clasped hands, scrunched up your nose in gentle pleasantry. "two to close, today," you told him, "but you don't have to come."

his eyes softened ever so slightly, his expression all maple syrup and pancakes on a lazy sunday morning. "want to, petal," he told you, taking his mug and starting back towards his room. "give me something to look forward to, eh?"

you were glad to hear his door swing shut behind him, if only so that he didn't see your face scrunch up further in guilty delight, at being his something to look forward to.

if jamie had settled into being your roommate, your favorite coworker had not settled into that fact. or maybe she had settled in, but it didn't appear that she would be giving you or him a break anytime soon.

it had only been a couple of months, and she had yet to go a day without bringing him up, nevermind going a visit without saying something you were sure would embarrass him.

as promised, after his workout and skate, the bell above the door jingled. you swore the sound was louder, more jubilant when he opened the door than any other patron.

he's here, the bell seemed to sing, finally, finally, he's here! you fought the urge to shush the inanimate object.

"well, well, well," your coworker said, wiping down the counter, "honestly, 6, i'm shocked you had any time to stop by, given your packed schedule of not shooting the puck."

you shook your head at her. "don't be mean, lovely," you chastised. you locked eyes with jamie, molten chocolate and stained glass. "i'm sure you shoot just enough."

his returning grin was carefully confident. "right as always," he told your coworker, "if we had a coaching opening i'd put in a good word."

this quickly spurred your coworker into a heated rant about how poorly the coach of the ducks was handling his roster full of young talent.

you began the process of making his drink, the one he insisted on ever since that first day. he had told you before that nothing could possibly be better than your fall themed treat. as you shook the maple syrup and espresso with ice, you missed the way a flush dusted across the bridge of his nose, like a day out in the sun.

your coworker did not miss this, however. she smirked, tilted her head. "a bit hot in here, drysdale? you look a little flushed."

he shot her a look, one which she mimicked before you turned to hand him his drink.

"here you are," you said as his hand closed over yours around the to-go cup.

your mind sparked and sputtered at the feeling of his warm hand over your fingers. he could have grabbed under your hand, the hopeless romantic in your head screeched. he could have avoided your touch, but he didn't!

but you had long ago resigned to refusing to listen to the hopeless romantic, in all of her desperate and shameful loveliness. you couldn't trust her, you had learned. she only ever left you feeling lost and longing.

so you silenced her, ignored her big, teary eyes as you dismissed her for the thousandth time, pulled your hand away.

"thank you, petal," he said, so genuine and sweet, so exactly him. it seemed cruel that you still weren't used to him, to his kindness, that he was still evoking this kind of response from you.

your only solace was that he didn't seem to be finding it especially easy, either, if his flickering gaze or flexing hands were anything to go by.

"you're welcome," you replied. "headed home now?"

he hummed in affirmation, rocked back on his heels. "when will you be home?"

you could have sighed at just how domestic it all was, like some kind of sixties fantasy. honey, i'm home! echoed in your head.

but you shut that down as quickly as it appeared. "why?" you asked, raising an eyebrow, "expecting company, or something?" your mouth quirked. "maybe a girl?"

he paled, and you were surprised at your nerve, too. you didn't really know why you were doing this, why you would ask. you and jamie didn't have that kind of relationship, and why would you ask that anyway, when you knew for a fact one of the possible two answers would cut through you like a warm knife through butter?

thankfully, your coworker broke the tension with an exaggerated laugh, actually slapping the counter before looking up and clocking both of the confused looks turned her way. "oh," she said, looking between the two of you, "was that not a joke?" she nodded. "alright then, my bad."

jamie gave a short shake of his head as if mentally moving on. "no one's coming over," he said to you, "just wanted to know when i should make dinner."

in a cartoon, your heart would have beat out of your chest, through your shirt and folded apron. "i'll be back at seven," you told him. "i'll see you then?"

his smile warmed the room. "see you then, petal."

the bell rang, this time dreary and disappointed, as the door shut behind him.

your coworker immediately turned to you, eyes teasing and playful.

"if you're gonna say something, lovely, just say it," you prompted, taking out the closing checklist.

she was practically buzzing on her feet. "tell me you've given up on your no fraternizing with roommates rule," she begged, clasping her hands for emphasis. "tell me you realize how obvious you're both being."

you waved her off, shook your head. "the rule is there because it's important," you chided, "and there's no way he's into me like i'm into him." a line you had used about almost every guy you had liked, repeated so many times in your head it was practically a hymn.

she folded her arms in front of her chest, rolled her eyes. "when you're ready to come to terms with people finding you attractive and interesting and wonderful, as you are, let me know," she called out over her shoulder as she went on her smoke break.

her words stayed with you, though, because they were meaningful. it was hard for you, dreadfully so, to even fathom that someone could find you worthy of their time, their energy, their attention.

even when you were actively flirting with people, acting confident, like you were that first day when jamie walked into your coffee shop, it felt as false, as foreign, as theatrical as shakespeare in the park.

why was it so easy for you to give all of that to others, why did you want to give it to them so desperately? why did it feel like such an impossible ask for someone to give that to you?

her words were burrowing in the back of your mind as you locked the front door of your apartment behind you, breathed in a delicious smell, maybe rosemary? thyme?

you let yourself drift into the kitchen, were met with a freshly showered jamie in pajama pants and an old ohl t-shirt. he stood over the stovetop, humming something, before turning and meeting your eyes, sending a spark flickering through your veins.

"welcome home, petal," he said, his full lips quirking up in that gentle smile you had come to crave.

"long time no see," you teased, knowing it had been only a couple of hours.

his gaze was full of something heavy when he tilted his head, heaped some pasta onto two plates. "felt long," he admitted, "the house is so weird without you here."

your stomach flipped. he couldn't just say things like that, you decided, if he didn't expect you to melt completely, a puddle of pink glitter glue on the hardwood floor.

"weird how?" you asked, hating yourself for pushing.

your mother's voice was jarring, harsh in your head. don't fish for compliments, she always said, it's vain.

now that you were older, you wanted a chance to respond to her. is it fishing for compliments if you never get any? if all you ever hear is how you could do better? you took a breath. is it so wrong to want to hear something good?

jamie didn't appear to think you were being vain, anyways. "weird like quiet," he said, gentle and soft, "i don't know, honestly, just different. it's better when you're here."

you couldn't help but blush at his words, even though you had asked for them. the mother in your head scoffed.

you smiled at him, so genuine you could feel your eyes crinkle at the corners. "i think it's better when you're here, too," you said, low and loaded like a secret.

suddenly the air between you grew thick and heavy, simmering with something the reason in you knew better than to identify. you held each other's gazes for a moment, almost begging, daring the other to do something.

you had never been the kind of person to pick dare during sleepover games, always felt truth was the safer bet. now, there was nothing safe about the truth, either. you cleared your throat, fidgeted with your fingers, dropped your gaze and asked him about practice, what he made for dinner.

do you think about me like i think about you? you wanted to ask him. have you ever wanted me to just hold you after a long day? have you ever thought about what my lips would feel like on your neck?

you shivered, pushed the thoughts away as you ate dinner together, tried to lean into the privilege of spending time with him, even if you wished for something more.

can't this be enough? you pleaded. why isn't this enough?

the words of your routine spun around the two of you like a whirlpool. work, skate, game, lift, dinner, road trip, copywriting. the words of your combined schedules swirled around your head.

better those that the other words, always lurking around the two of you like childhood monsters under a bed: eyes, heat, lips, sweet, gentle, soft, shoulders, arms.

you must have zoned out, because he waved a hand once in front of your face. "petal?"

you shook yourself out of your trance-like state. "sorry," you said, already feeling the familiar flush of embarrassment.

he fixed you with a look. "for what?" he asked, less confused, more curious.

you closed your eyes for a second, took a deep breath. why was he making you explain this? "i mean, i was probably staring at you, right?" you said, feeling the shame of it prick you on the fingers like a thousand needles.

his gaze dropped to your mouth for a millisecond before meeting your eyes again. there was a silence, and when he spoke again, his voice was husky. "you can stare at me all you want, petal."

you could have whimpered, could have screamed. don't say things like that to me, you wanted to tell him. tell me things like that every second until i die, you also wanted to say.

"really?" you whispered, too starry-eyed to cringe at yourself. your food lay forgotten in front of you. how many times had you eaten dinner together, just like this? how many times had you pushed this feeling away? was it possible that he was doing just the same?

he hummed, ran his tongue along the inside of his teeth, a self-satisfied move from him you have never really seen before. you rubbed your crossed ankles together.

you took a breath, a last beat of courage, before reaching across the counter and brushing his hair from out of his eyes. his skin scorched your fingertips, his eyes made your breathing slow and shallow. "you can stare at me, too," you said to him, pulling your arm back.

his eyes were full of understanding. "i know," he told you. "i do."

that knowledge was still haunting you days later. that he noticed you, registered your presence, like you did him. how could you ever act normally again, knowing this? how could you ever act without the constant weight of him around?

so you did the only thing you could think of - you ignored him, avoided him, hoped to skillfully evade his careful gaze, however much it hurt you not to see him, to talk with him, to ask him how practices and games went.

such a task became impossible when the bell clinked cheerily, the following weekend, signifying you and the coffee shop of the arrival of its favorite patron.

you looked up, halfway surprised to see him enter with another person, too, a teammate you had met, you were sure of it, but one you couldn't quite recall the name of. the two of them approached the counter in a shroud of laughter and easiness.

apparently, your coworker recognized the friend, too, because upon their approach she began a slow, sarcastic applause. "gentlemen," she said, "allow me to congratulate you on a recording breaking game last night."

jamie and his friend shared a look. "um," jamie began, careful, "we lost last night."

"oh," your coworker finished an order and set it on the pick-up counter. "i should have clarified. the record was for laziest defensive performance i've ever witnessed." she gave them a quick thumbs up. "congrats again! know you guys have been working real hard for this one."

jamie shook his head lightheartedly before locking eyes with you, smiling slightly. you hadn't really spoken since the other night, but you still didn't really know what to say. you didn't know where you stood, what lines were still drawn.

thankfully, your coworker refused to drop it, not leaving any opportunity for silence, now speaking directly to the newcomer. "i'm so happy you're here, 11," she continued. "you know that you're allowed in your own defensive zone, right? feel free to cross the red line, i think you'll find that defense makes winning a lot easier."

the object of your coworkers jabs turned to jamie. "am i supposed to take this?"

jamie shrugged. "i usually do."

she waved him off. "yeah, but you're hoping i'll put in a good word with your roommate." you blushed at her words, hope sparking at the possibility of them being true.

jamie didn't drop your gaze. "yeah, and how far is that getting me? you gonna put in a good word?"

every fiber of your being told you not to take his words at face value. every fiber of your being wanted to.

she scoffed. "yeah, right. if anything i'd just say you're a pushover."

the newcomer scrunched up his expressive face. "well, in that case, why don't you keep your thoughtful advice to yourself?"

she tilted her head back and laughed. "what, 11, can't take a little feedback?" she pouted, false pity all over her face. "guess you're every bit the flashy bust they say you are."

"no one is saying that!" he fumed, "literally name one person who is saying that!"

you and your roommate stifled your laughter as their argument grew.

you made him his drink, handed it over. his face was gentle, soft as took the cup from you. "you're avoiding me," he said, not accusatory, a simple observation.

you couldn't lie to him and say you weren't, so you only stayed quiet.

"i miss you," he said, so simple and genuine in its honesty that you could have cried.

"i miss you, too," you said, easy as an exhale.

his gaze glimmered. "so watch a movie with me tonight, yeah?"

your mouth twitched, because you wanted to, so badly, but you didn't know if you could trust yourself.

he shifted back and forth on his heels. the sun dripped so languishingly over his brow, down his jaw and neck. "please?" he asked, and you were done.

"okay," you conceded, butterflies already fluttering to life in your stomach at the thought of spending tonight with him on the couch.

a thud and a grunt shook you both from your conversation as you turned to your respective friends. your coworker appeared to be throwing bags of coffee beans at jamie's teammate. "can't hide behind a ref now, can you?" she taunted the lanky newcomer, who struggled to catch the bags.

"this is the behavior of a deranged fan," he pointed out, placing the bags back on the counter. "i hope you realize that."

"you wish i was a fan of yours," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "on an unrelated note, can i take a video of you wishing my little brother good luck on his math test tomorrow?"

the video was filmed, reluctant thanks and apologies were given and accepted.

"i apologize for the physical assault, but not the truth, 11," your coworker conceded, "and you're only getting any apology at all because this is going to mean the world to my brother."

"can't you just apologize normally?" you pushed, looking to make the rest of the patrons more comfortable, the energy less combative.

"tell you what," she said to him, "if you put in some effort next game to something besides michigans and between-the-legs shots, i'll give you the best apology you've ever seen."

jamie hissed. "he's gonna take that in a way you won't like."

his teammate leveled your coworker with a smirk. "do i get to pick how you apologize?"

she scoffed, an angry flush all over her face. "no, you don't get to pick! what the hell is the matter with you?"

you and jamie shared a look at their bickering. see you at home, petal, he mouthed to you on the way out, argumentative words still saturating the air.

bye, jamie, you mouthed back with a wave.

when you got back from work, called out your greeting, settled in, and changed out of your uniform, you found him on the couch, were all too happy to join him, however off limits it felt.

he felt off limits, like this, all messy hair and eyes tired with the day, worn-in sweatpants and sweatshirts from junior hockey and lazy stretches that revealed slivers of skin.

you lifted up a blanket, pulled your knees to your chest underneath it, avoided his gaze. "your friend's a character, hm?" you started.

he shifted his posture to get a better look at you, even though he was now faced halfway away from the movie he was in the middle of. "who, trevor?" he gave a playful roll of his eyes. "ignore him. he thinks your friend's hot and doesn't know what to do about it."

"that's him flirting?" you said, eyes wide, words spoken slowly for emphasis. "good grief, his act needs some work."

jamie's smile slanted into something dangerous. "what, wouldn't work on you, petal?" suddenly the blanket over you seemed like entirely not enough coverage. you felt completely exposed as you gave a slight shake of your head. he draped a heavy arm along the back of the couch. "no?" he paused, forced you to meet his magnetic gaze as he ran a hand through his hair. "what would work on you, then?"

you searched his eyes for a drop of humor, of teasing, of something that would hurt you, as you had long ago trained yourself to. you could sniff out potential abandonment, embarrassment like a bloodhound. but you came up empty, with him.

what could you say to him? that anything that he does, anything he could ever do, that's what would work on you? that he works on you?

your careful silence could have been a banshee scream into an open expanse as the air between the two of you again adopted that rolling flame, that lick of heat up your bare legs.

your eyes widened as he tugged your feet and calves into his laps with one hand, gently but firmly, just enough so that you could feel the warmth from his thick quads pooling in the backs of your knees.

just close enough to want more. just close enough to know you shouldn't.

"'m picky," you said, almost out of breath, swallowing your uneasiness down until the only thing you felt was him. "not into the interest disguised as insults."

he hummed as if he understood, ran his fingers over your shins, feather-light, so much so that later you would wonder if you had only imagined he had touched you. "so what?" he said, meeting your eyes in the dim light you had long ago deemed especially dangerous. "like to be called pretty, petal? like it when they make it, so, so easy for you?" his fingers dragged across your ankle in an electrifying way that had you forgetting about your promise. "like when they go slow?"

you let out some kind of strangled sound, halfway between a nervous laugh and a whimper. because you did like all of those things, of course you did. you liked proof that people cared about you, how could you not?

you couldn't even dwell on how delicious the word pretty sounded in his mouth, how much you wanted to taste it, because something else in his wording willed confidence into your body, clarity into your head in place of guilt.

"who's they?" you asked, your voice steadier than it had been in weeks.

"hm?" he asked, rough.

"i said," you repeated, shifting your body until you rested on top of his lap, your legs on either side of his hips. "who's they?" you were closer than you had ever been as you felt him underneath you, almost chest to chest. so close you could feel his breathing stutter against you. you brushed his messy hair from his face until you could see his eyes in all of their gorgeous truth. "i don't care much about them, jamie."

something rumbled in him, something you felt in your bones. he looked so, so beautiful, and his mouth was right there, and was he tilting his head closer to you? and-

"jim! when the hell are you gonna give me back my blender?" your door swinging open and shut might as well have been a strike of lightning as you scrambled away from each other. trevor's voice cut through your apartment like thunder, like a cold shower.

in a moment he appeared in the doorframe, suddenly eyeing the two of you with the suspicion only a best friend could muster. he gestured between the two of you, now comically far apart on opposite sides of the couch.

"what's going on here?" he asked.

jamie tilted his head back again, wiped at his face with both hands. "sure, yeah, come on in," he said to trevor through his fingers.

"how did you get in here?" you asked, you voice still dark with want, the aftermath of confidence still lacing your tone.

"key," trevor said, waving you off as if this piece of information wasn't relevant. "why?" he looked between the two of you again, eyes narrowed. "'m i interrupting something?"

silence followed. you didn't look at jamie, and he didn't clarify. "no," you said finally, not angry, but knowing the moment was over. "i guess not."

and so you pulled yourself up, made your way back to your room, every inch of your skin buzzing, every heartbeat a burst of electricity through your body.

voices grew fainter as you neared your door.

"if you'd just give me back my blender this wouldn't be such a problem," trevor hissed.

"and you couldn't've shot me a text? figured you'd just break in to my house?" jamie's voice was resigned. you knew he could never stay mad at his friend.

"it's not breaking in if you gave me a key, scumbag."

you shut your door behind you and collapsed onto your bed, still feeling the phantom of his body underneath you, the ghost of his fingertips digging into your hips. you groaned into a pillow, hating that when you closed your eyes all you saw was his full, pink mouth.

the next day, when you relayed all of this new, and not so new information to your friend at work, she shook her head slowly.

"i don't know," she said, pouring a double shot over ice, "but it sounds like you've either gotta make this thing serious or check out your other options." she shot you a look. "no more of this pining bullshit."

you whacked her with a rag playfully, but sighed. "i can't make it serious. and i don't have other options, so looks like pining's all i got."

"tell me you're kidding." she glared at you. "i've had like three friends just in the past week come in and text me after asking if you're single."

you scrunched up your face. "no, you haven't," you said, knowing there's no way that could be true.

"callin' me a liar?" she prompted, pulling out her phone with her free hand and scrolling until she found one of the texts, facing it to you.

sure enough, there was a message from some guy, some ordinary name, asking if she'd set him up with the "smoke in the canada hat," referring to the hat you had borrowed of jamie's earlier this week.

"whatever," you said, "it doesn't really matter."

"it does matter." your friend set the drink down on the pickup counter and turned to meet your gaze entirely. "it matters to me that you find it so hard to believe that people are into you." she grasped for one of your hands, held it firmly.

her touch was welcome, and so were her words. because honestly, you knew why you found it so hard to believe. because even though you had a pretty good relationship with yourself, even though you knew now that you were beautiful, and smart, and funny, and kind, when you were young, you didn't know that. when you were young, the people you were closest to were basically telling you that you weren't those things.

flashes of tense family dinners, long car rides during which you were the butt of every joke shot across your mind like meteors, just as destructive.

saw you talking to a boy today during lunch, one of your older siblings would say after a long day, maybe middle school, maybe sophomore year. is he your boy-friend? the words slow and taunting, malicious, immediately making an angry, embarrassed flush break out across your face.

don't be ridiculous, peanut, your mother would scold your sibling from the front seat, it's rude. and it's not like she was wrong, the boy you had been talking to wasn't your boyfriend, but it stung like a wasp nonetheless.

why is it ridiculous? you wanted to ask, tears brimming, hot behind your eyes. would that really be so hard to believe?

or countless calls with your parents during your first year of college, each more demeaning than the last. you know you're allowed to date, right? your mother might say. you know we aren't strict about that kind of thing. you held back a bitter and sarcastic congratulations.

i know, you would say, trying to hide the defeat you felt at the disappointed sigh she had done such a poor job of hiding.

every not-so subtle jab landed deep, until even the words put yourself out there induced a physical reaction.

it hurt to think about allowing yourself to want, to be wanted, because what if they laughed in your face? what if it all really was ridiculous, all this time? what if it really was hard to believe?

you sighed, now, squeezed your coworker's hand.

"how about this," she proposed, her eyes as soft as you had ever seen them. "how about i set you up with one of my friends who's interested, just one date, and we see how it goes? no pressure, and i'll make sure he knows it's no pressure. think of it like practice."

you thought for a moment, bit your lip. you could use a stress-free practice, that much was true, and you trusted this friend to not set you up with a sleaze-ball. and, you confessed, if you wanted to fizzle out whatever was going on with your roommate, this would probably be a good start.

so you agreed. the decision was made easier by the fact that jamie was on the road this week, so you didn't have him to distract you. the day of your dinner date ended up being the day he was set to return, but he wasn't supposed to get back until the middle of the night.

you wouldn't have to explain yourself to anyone, or even tell anyone how it went, if you didn't want to, you reminded yourself. just practice, no pressure.

and the guy was really sweet, honestly. he was good-looking, too, if not a bit more lanky, taller than the guys you usually went for. he asked you questions, and seemed to care about the answers, and you found yourself in a full conversation with him pretty easily.

but then something in your mind would catch on his shoulders and think not big enough to sink your teeth into, and then on his mouth and think he'd never call you petal, and then on his cheeks, which didn't blush the whole night, not even once.

and he was a really nice guy, but you found yourself wanting to invite him to join your friend group's book club, not invite him back to your place. you found yourself thinking quite intently about a certain person who was not, in fact, the man sitting across from you at the table.

which was fine, you realized, because this is practice, and he doesn't have to be the one. practice means you can find a friend.

so, with a smile, a shared admission that you would like to get to know each others as friends, and a promise to send him the address to the next book club meeting, you left your first date in forever feeling proud of yourself.

on your way back into your apartment, you sent your friend from work a thank you text before making your way to your room and changing into something more comfortable.

you settled on sleep shorts and an old t-shirt before heading to the kitchen to make a cup of tea, breathing in the smell of steeping chamomile when a sound behind you made you jump.

thankfully you would recognize that frame anywhere. you exhaled. "jesus, jamie," you breathed, "thought you wouldn't be back 'til later."

he stepped forward, the light so dark and dim and dangerous, especially after not seeing him all week. the slope of his high cheekbones, the sharp cut of his jaw, the deep pooling of feeling in his eyes. it all rushed at you a million miles an hour and stole your breath.

"got in early," he explained, his gaze ever so slow down your figure, like he was mapping it, committing it to memory. "were you out?" he asked, his voice suddenly rough.

you swallowed, thinking about what to say. a pause settled between the two of you, thick like mud, decadent like chocolate pudding.

i missed you, you wanted to tell him. tell me you missed me, too.

he inched closer still, leaned against the kitchen counter as you busied yourself with stirring your tea with the tea bag. "don't wanna tell me?" he mused. "how could that be, petal?"

you didn't meet his eyes, suddenly feeling childish. "went on a date."

you were both silent, for a moment. you looked up to check if he was still there. "and why didn't you wanna tell me?" his voice was gravelly.

your hands were shaking, you realized, so you set down your mug, crossed your arms against your chest with a sigh. "he was nice," you admitted, didn't quite miss the green flame that sparked across his gaze, blinked out in a moment. "but i was distracted." you looked down at your feet.

then he was right in front of you, a step apart. it had been so long since you had been so close, and the memory of what had happed that last time burned between the two of you, unspoken, yet the most obvious fixture in the room.

you looked up to meet his curious, careful gaze, wanted so badly to lean forward, sink into his broad chest, breathe him in and never stop.

"by what, petal?" he asked, so close you could practically feel the words on your own lips, his tone so low and heavy your stomach dropped.

you swallowed, watched his eyes track the movement. "you," you said simply, honestly.

and then his eyes searched yours for a single telling moment before his hands came to cup your face, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that held a million i missed you, i missed you, i missed you's.

you let out some soft noise into his mouth at the lovely pressure of his lips against yours, so firm and knowing. you pressed yourself so closely against his chest, one hand on his collarbone, the other grasping around his neck.

he leaned forward into you so pleasantly before moving his arms down to lift you by the waist, setting you down gently on the top of the counter, moaning when you fixed your hands in his hair.

you swallowed down his sounds like elixir, wanted every single one of them, as his wide hands kneaded at the flesh of your hips slowly. you raked your hands down the back of neck delicately, enough to relish in the shudder left in their wake.

finally, you both pulled away, only just, only enough to slow your heaving chests, enough to selfishly see the effect you both had on the other. matching glossed over gazes, swollen lips, exhales heavy with unspoken words.

you pushed some of his hair from his face, soft under your gentle fingers, could have swooned at how he was looking at you, right now. like there was no one else in the universe, like the stars existed only for you.

"i have to go home tomorrow," you said, suddenly, like a ridiculous idiot, wanting to shove the words back into your mouth as he traced light circles across the tops of your thigh. why did you say that?

but his expression didn't change. "i'll come," he said immediately.

your heart jumped, but you didn't want him to come and see your family, really, because family gatherings never were the most flattering, for you. "you don't have to," you said, "i know you're busy, and it's just for a little bit, just for the day."

"i'll come, petal," he repeated.

your mouth quirked, just a bit. "yeah?"

"yeah," he said, a drowsy smile slanting across his face. a smile you couldn't say no to, a smile you just had to feel against your lips.

a smile that meant, the following morning, you were standing on the front step of your childhood home next to jamie, who was holding a potted plant.

"you know you didn't need to bring anything," you said after you rang the doorbell, jittery with nerves. how long had it been?

he only pinched you lightly in the side. "swear i won't drop it this time, petal," he said with the easy tone that calmed your nerves, if only slightly.

and then the door was opening, and you were ushered in among a flurry of hugs and exclamations of it having been to long.

your older brother said you looked different, your mother said you needed to visit more often. you had the sinking feeling that coming home was a mistake.

then came the inevitable. "and who's this handsome young man?" your mother asked in a sugary sweet tone that made the room smell like the dentist's office, at least to you. "is this that friend from work you told me about a while ago?"

you opened your mouth to speak but quickly shut it again, slightly confused, maybe disappointed? other people's parents assumed they were dating any person they spoke to, which you were sure was its own beast, but you had actually brought someone to a family meal and your mom thought he was your coworker?

"uh," you started, struggling to find your footing. "this is jamie."

you wanted to put your forehead through the tastefully muted wallpaper of the mudroom, but jamie only shook your father's hand, endured awkward hugs from your mother and siblings, handed over his plant with practiced grace.

you felt your hands tremble ever so slightly, willed them to still, begged any courage and confidence to show itself, but your chest was tight, like your lungs were filling up with polluted water.

jamie caught your eye, registered your defensive stance, gave you a look full of softness and acceptance before stepping to your side and pulling you in for a gentle side-hug, his embrace strong and sure in all the ways you were not. he pressed his lips to the top of your head, lips you still felt the memory of on your mouth, lips that sent a shiver of stability down your spine. "much better than last time, eh, petal?" he said, looking down at you, still tucked into his side. "no dirt under your nails, this time."

you couldn't help but give a slight shake of your head, squeezed him tighter in a way you hoped said thank you.

when you looked back up to your family, there was an almost comical look of surprise in your mother's eyes, a look of extreme boredom in your siblings'.

you father cleared his throat. "brunch's ready," he said, urging your mother to lead you all to the dining room.

jamie pulled out your chair for you, leaned forward to your ear when you sat down. "look so pretty today," he whispered, his voice a low rasp, only for you, only to help you settle, only because it was the truth.

"you know, jamie, she's never brought someone home before," your mother said at some point during the meal, like it was some kind of inside joke between the two of them, a joke you were not a part of. she shared some kind of look with him, but his face was blank. "honestly, we were starting to get worried." your father and her gave light laughs, laughs that made your stomach roll with anxiety, shame.

good god, couldn't they give you a break? you pushed your food around your plate, very much not hungry, very much wanting to leave.

jamie didn't laugh, though, didn't indulge them, didn't pretend like he was in on their joke. "worried about what?" he asked, his expression and tone entirely plain and curious, waiting patiently for elaboration that never came. his question was met with flickering glances between your parents, nervous laughter dying in their mouths.

you looked down at your plate again, bit your lip to hide your smile, reached under the table to squeeze his hand. he squeezed yours right back.

the rest of the meal was fine. soon enough, you were saying your goodbyes, doling out your own awkward hugs along with vague assurances that you would be back soon.

"and it was so wonderful to meet you, jamie," your mother said, a hand on his forearm, "know you're welcome here anytime."

you pushed aside the spark of jealousy within you. what would it be like to know that for yourself? to feel welcome in this home, whenever you wanted?

jamie just looked at you with that molten softness in his dark eyes. you pushed his hair from his face, the way you had grown accustomed to doing, more a comfort to you at this point. he leaned into your touch, however slightly.

"thank you for having me," he said, politely, before looking at you once more. "'m honored to be the first person petal's felt comfortable enough to bring home."

you could have melted at how genuine he sounded, at the idea that he was honored to be around you, of all things, at all.

when you were both in the car, you turned to him. "you didn't have to say that, you know," you told him as he pulled the car out of the driveway, started the trek home.

he just kept one hand on the wheel, took yours with the other. "wanted to," he said, glancing over at you with a steadiness that was impossible to deny. "meant it."

a smile came easily to your face, a flush came easier. he lifted your hand to his mouth, lightly pressed his lips to the top of it, making you shift in your seat with poorly hidden delight, perfectly warm all over.

you arrived back home, and fell back into your routine.

jamie dropped you off at work the following day, rolling his window down when you got out the passenger door. "petal!" he called.

you turned, that grin that seemed to be every-present around him on your face. "yeah?"

the faintest of blushes began to prick at his cheeks. "can i have a kiss, please?"

you were all too willing to comply, leaning against the side of the car and pulling his lips to yours with a gentle hand on his jaw. "see you later?" you murmured against his mouth, butterflies so alive in your stomach you half believed they would fly up your throat. he nodded, a little dazed, promised to see you after your shift, as he had the day off.

the lovely dizziness began to dull as soon as you entered the coffee shop, as there was a very unexpected guest behind the counter with your friend.

"have you never even heard of a latte?" your coworker seethed, the words hard and angry through her teeth.

"feel free to call this off at any time, sugar," a smug trevor drawled, wearing an apron and a haphazardly drawn name tag.

you set your things down and began to tie your own apron around yourself. "afternoon, lovely," you greeted your friend before looking at the newcomer. "trevor."

he nodded to you with a smile in a greeting of his own before the espresso machine started making a menacing sound.

you took the next customer's order, began to prepare it. "do i wanna know why you appear to be an employee today?"

"lost a bet," he said, looking at your coworker, who grimaced.

"we agreed that if he didn't block five shots against the hawks last week, he'd work a shift," she crossed her arms over her chest. "but already this is more of a punishment for me than for him."

he turned up his smile to the megawatts.

you shook your head with a laugh. "you know this is breaking, like, a billion laws," you said, pouring soy milk into a cup. "we can't just hire randoms to work a single shift."

trevor placed a fake-offended hand over his heart. "i'm not some random," he clarified.

"according to california law, you are," you said, matter-of-factly, finishing off the drink and placing it on the pickup counter.

"oh, whatever, 11, just go," your coworker said, exasperated, "you've already messed up like twelve times in the last two hours."

he pouted, teasing like a kindergarten bully, all grown up. "you wound me, sugar," he said, turning around slowly. "untie my apron for me?"

she took off her bucket hat and whacked him with it. "don't think i've forgiven you, either," she said, pointing a warning finger at him.

"wouldn't dream of it," he cooed, taking out him phone. "haven't i earned a drink for my troubles? jimmy won't be here for another five minutes."

you scrunched up your brow. "jamie?" you groaned for him, "wish you'd called it quits like two minutes earlier. he was just here."

both your coworker and trevor whipped their heads around. "jim dropped you off?"

you nodded. your coworker gave you an impressed grin, held her hand down low for trevor to slap in a high-five. "let's go," she said, pumping her fist.

you rolled your eyes at the two of them. "so the goon squad is working together, now?" you asked.

trevor rested his elbow on the top of your friend's head, making her hiss and bat his arm away. "best team around," he said, smugly, before looking at his phone. "time to go," he stated, accepting the two drinks you pushed into his hands with a thank you. "until next time, sugar," he said, looking at your friend.

"the red line won't hurt you unless you let it," she called out behind him.

you immediately started peppering her with questions about her bet with jamie's teammate, trying to get her to admit she didn't hate him as much as she let on.

"jamie says he just thinks you're hot and doesn't know what to do about it," you told her before she went out back for her break.

she fixed you with a look. "you can tell jamie that his friend better find out what to do about it." you laughed as the door shut behind her.

the rest of your shift went by terribly slowly. it wasn't that busy, and, honestly, you really missed jamie. you had only just found out what his lips felt like on your own, after all, and now you were having a hard time thinking about anything else. no one should feel this overheated, this distracted, while trying to steep peppermint tea and froth oat milk.

too many times, you lost yourself in daydreams about what his thighs felt like underneath you, how his fingers would feel like in your mouth, what his hand would feel like, gripping your hair.

you just wanted to be close to him, as close to him as possible.

by the time your coworker was dropping you off at your apartment, your mouth was practically dry with want, and if someone were to call you desperate, you weren't sure if you would have it in you to care.

you locked the door behind you, the silence in the kitchen and mudroom telling you he was probably in his own room, probably gaming.

you could have whined, thinking you would have to wait until he was done until you could kiss him, touch him, feel him how you wanted to.

you lasted pretty much as long as it took you to change into more comfortable clothes. undeniable want had you rapping your knuckles lightly against his door, exhaling gratefully when a soft come in wafted through the air.

and then the door was open, and he was there, exactly as you had thought him to be. his headset pushed his messy hair up in different directions, his knees spread wide, his posture relaxed.

he made eye contact with you, something warm shining in his gaze as he pushed his mic away from his mouth. "hey, petal," he rasped, his voice weary with use. "you're home."

you nodded, bit your lip, twisted the sole of your foot into the ground slowly. "know you're busy," you said, soft, almost bashful, "but can i just sit with you?" you swallowed down any shakiness. "couldn't stop thinking 'bout you at work."

you knew he wouldn't laugh at you, but were splendidly pleased anyways when he simply nodded, let that smile slant across his face, opened up his arms in invitation, contentment obvious in his expression.

you breathed out and crossed the room to where he sat, lowered yourself onto his lap as he spread his legs apart wider to make you more comfortable. you crossed your legs over his thigh, leaned back into his chest, let the warmth and feeling of him envelop you like a fog. his arms came to reach around you as he kept playing, fiddling with his controller. you could have fallen asleep here, if you weren't so alert, if every inch of your body didn't feel like it was slowly catching flame.

you hummed, shifted your hips back against him, making him let out a soft grunt. "getting comfortable?" he whispered, to which you nodded, smiled, leaned your head against his chest.

you tried to stay still, watch the screen as he played, but something about feeling his breaths against your back, the heat of him pooling in your neck, the firmness of him underneath you, it made you restless, impatient.

so much so that after maybe a few minutes, you were craning your head up to press your lips lightly to his jaw, his throat, just behind his ear, twisting your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck.

he let out a groan, low and dangerous. "thought you just wanted to sit," he said, his mouth quirking up, a tightness to his voice that hadn't been there before.

"changed my mind," you mumbled into his shoulder, grazing your teeth over his deltoid.

"be patient, petal," he rumbled, "wait 'til 'm finished, hm?"

you pouted against his jaw, figured you had done months of waiting, if you counted back to that first day. more than your fair share. you were done being patient.

so, instead of waiting, like he had asked you to, you wordlessly pushed yourself from his chest, sank down to your knees into front of his chair, gently placed your palms on his thighs, forcing his attention to you.

his gaze settled on you like heavy sediment, scorching, bubbling. when he spoke, you felt it against your face like a caress. "fuck, petal, dreamt of you like this."

your smile was slight, sly. "what? on my knees for you, jamie?"

he gave an almost pained shake of his head, made some strained sound of refutation. he set his controller down and pulled off his headset, tossed it aside as you tugged at his sweatpants, rolled your hand over him, hard and hot.

he tilted his head back, groaned. "dreamt of you lookin' at me like this," he confessed, words thick with revelation, "like you want me."

something almost religious passed between you, because what was this, if not something worth worshipping? something built on devotion beyond logic, beyond better judgement?

"i do want you, jamie," you said, finality swimming in your heated tone, "i want you so, so bad."

you bit your lip to hide your grin when he whimpered at your words, his eyes screwing shut as you took him in your hand, spit onto his cock, pumped him up and down before running your tongue along the length of him, drinking in his sounds greedily.

he rooted his thick hand in your hair, draping it away from your face as you sunk your mouth down onto him. "fuck," he choked out, slow and strained, "fuck, petal, you can have me."

you moaned around him, grounded by his grip, the pleasant tug on your scalp, urged him to the back of your throat until your eyes began to water, until his thighs began to tense, before retreating again, peering up at him, eager to take every inch of him in, like this.

so unguarded and uncontrolled, knowing he was thinking only of you, pure want dripping down his frame and face like watercolor, this image of him made you acutely aware of just how wet you already were.

you tugged your hand up and down him again, grinned when he shuddered. "taste so good, jamie," you rasped, running your thumb along the tip, "'ve wanted your cock in my mouth for so long, baby."

his chest rose and fell as he moaned, desperate, overwhelmed. his thumb circled your jaw as you continued moving your hand, spitting onto him again. "should've told me, petal," he whined, "would've given you anything you wanted." his voice shook, you felt his muscles tense again as you took him in your mouth again. "waited so good for me, hm?"

you hummed, held him in your mouth, hollowed out your cheeks until tears broke your waterline, his grunts telling you he was close as you let your nails dig into the tops of his thighs.

"fuck, 'm gonna cum," he breathed, "feel so good like this, petal, too good, can't hold on." his grip in your hair tightened, his hips bucking up, hitting a deeper spot in your throat. he made to pull back, but you only moved your head with him, swallowing around him until you tasted him on your tongue, his moan resounding in your head like an organ in a cathedral.

only after he finished did you pull your mouth up off of him, tilted your head onto your elbow, which was resting on his thigh, red with marks from your clutching hands. you watched him come down from his high, watched his lashes flutter as his eyes opened, felt his grip loosen in your hair and his hand come down to rest under your chin, as gentle and affectionate a touch as you had ever felt.

he led your mouth to his, lifting you off of your knees, slanting his lips across yours like a smile before pulling away, looking at you for a moment, tracing your mouth with his thumb. "look so pretty like this, petal," he praised, low and steady, "so fuckin' perfect."

and you blushed, because you knew how you looked.

you knew that your face was flushed with exertion, knew that spit ran down onto your chin, knew that your lashes were clumped together with tears, knew that your lips with swollen and your neck shone with sweat.

he kissed the corner of your mouth anyways, looked at you like there had never been anything more beautiful. "let me taste you, hm?" he murmured against your skin.

you shivered with pleasure at his words, but whined. "need you so bad, jamie," you pleaded, "need you inside of me." you peered up at him through your lashes. "please?"

he shifted until you hovered above him, tugged your shorts aside, ran his fingers through your folds and cursed at how wet he found you. "anything you want, petal," he rasped, bringing his fingers to his mouth and licking you off of them. "fuck, pretty girl, askin' me so nicely, hm?"

you nodded feverishly, reached under you to find him impossibly hard, again, before angling him to you and sinking down onto him, your knees on either side of his hips.

his head fell back at that first feeling, your mouth dropping open as your body pulled taut at the stretch. you whimpered when he reached behind you to pull you to his chest, changing the angle, while he shifted under you, both of you breathing heavy, searching for something to stop you from floating away.

you settled on letting your heavy head drop to his neck, letting shaky exhales escape past your teeth, melt into his collarbone like snowflakes on windowpanes.

he clutched at your waist, began to slowly move his hips, lifting you up and down in a rhythm that burned behind your eyes, that you felt on your tongue, in your toes.

"how do you feel like this?" he whispered, practically to himself, as if in a dream, as he kept up his pace, slow and brutal.

"like what, baby?" you breathed, picking your head up and beginning to fuck back onto him with more force, wanting to feel him harder, deeper.

"fuck," he whimpered, searching for an answer, his messy hair falling into his face, sticking to the gloss of sweat shining on his brow, "better than i imagined, petal. so perfect, made for me."

you moaned at his admission, reached around his neck for support. "been thinkin' 'bout me, jamie?" you asked, an almost cocky grin peeking through.

"so much," he whined, picking up his pace now, causing you to choke down a strangled moan, "fuck, petal, was worried you'd hear me through the walls."

his confession shot right to your core as you clenched around him, imagining him trying to keep quiet, touching himself, thinking of you. you dug your nails into the back of his neck as he laid a hand across your stomach, pressed down until he could feel the outline of himself inside of you, moving in and out.

the sensation was so intense that you had to shut your eyes, the pressure inside of you pulling so tightly you bit your tongue.

"like that, hm?" he said, only the faintest trace of smugness in his tone. "like that i thought of you with my hand around my cock, petal?"

you nodded, moaned your affirmation, felt yourself grow so deliciously close.

"thought of you, just like this," he breathed into your neck, still pushing at your stomach, hitting somewhere impossibly deep inside you, hard and fast. "squeezing me so perfect, making those pretty sounds for me."

"'m so close, jamie," you pleaded, your voice wrecked, your jaw aching, "please make me cum? need you so bad, been needin' you for so long."

his neck tensed under your palm as his thrusts grew sporadic, his breathing labored. "fuck, petal, cum on my cock, yeah?" his other hand gripped your hip so hard you knew it would leave a mark. "been such a good girl for me."

you came apart at his words, collapsing onto his chest, clenching down on him so completely that he reached another high, warm and absolute. he stilled, both of your chests rising and falling against each other. you ran your fingers soothingly over the back of his neck, he rubbed circles into the sides of your hips as if in a daze.

finally, when the fog cleared like falling rain, you pulled back to look at his face, flushed, long lashes framing heavy lids, his gaze thick and syrupy with affection.

you lightly swept the damp hair from his forehead, pressed a gentle kiss to his brow that made him smile up at you lazily.

he ran his thumb along your cheekbone. "wanna stay in my room, tonight?" he asked, cheekily, like you were kids planning a sleepover, scheming up the best way to ask your parents.

so you just nodded and laughed, and he kissed the laugh from your lips as if it tasted of sugar.

fin.

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