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streamingcolors-gvf · 4 months

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Skin Deep - Part 10.3

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x f!freader x male OC, f!reader x Jake Kiszka

Word Count: 9.4k

***A/N: After a bit of a hiatus from the app and writing, this chapter has been a long time coming. It’s been hanging in my docs for quite a while, but I’m stoked to have it finally posted for everyone. This part might be a bit polarizing and intense for some readers, so I strongly encourage you read the warnings before diving right in. I’m quite nervous about this update***

As always, I appreciate all the love, support and feedback y’all give me ❤️

Warnings: cursing, brief mentions of marijuana use and alcohol consumption, angst/toxic themes and behavior (jealousy, extreme anger, allusions to cheating, and manipulation), physical aggression, sexually explicit content - MINORS DNI 18+ (unprotected penetrative sex, rough sex, degradation, dacryphilia - arousal from tears or sobbing, spit kink, spanking, mentions of blood, choking if you squint a lot, and please feel free to message me if I have missed anything on this list!)

Masterpost, Part 10.2

You must’ve fallen asleep the second you closed your eyes because the next thing you feel is a hand nudging your arm, waking you up. You go to stretch out the tightness locking your tired muscles, but the weight of Josh passed out on your chest keeps you pinned to the bed.

You try to rub the sleepy glaze from your eyes with the heels of your palms, mumbling, “Hmm…what?”

Kai stands, causing the mattress to bounce and creak with the loss of weight. “I need a shower,” He whispers. “Will you take one with me?”

“Sure,” you groan through the stiffness. It takes a little coaxing, but you still manage to slide out from under Josh without waking him. By the time you can swing your bare feet onto the hardwood floor, Kai has already walked out of the room.

You stumble your way into the bathroom, wincing at the bright lighting. “I gotta pee…” you trail off, walking past him, but when he doesn’t take the hint, you turn to give him a look.

He lets out an airy laugh and starts to rummage through the vanity drawers. “Oh, kitten…you act like I wasn’t just inside you an hour ago.” He turns his head to you, emphasizing the remark with a teasing wink. “And you wouldn’t believe the money I’ve made off of women pissing on me… So yeah, that’s kind of the least of my worries, wouldn’t you think?” You grimace in disgust, causing him to flash a grin at you before continuing his search, unbothered by you completely. He then asks over his shoulder, “You’re on birth control, right?”

You push out a heavy sigh into your hands as you settle onto the toilet seat, “Yes, Kai. I am sleeping with both of them, remember?”

He huffs, finally finding what he’s looking for — a spare, cheap toothbrush from the bottom drawer, and starts ripping open the packaging and points it at you. “Which reminds me, I should stop by the clinic this week.” While you’re sure it’s only teasing, you shoot a death glare at him anyway, making him chuckle.

“I’m kidding! Kind of…” He trails off as he pipes out a line of toothpaste across the pristine bristles. “But in all seriousness, what’s up with you and Jake anyway?”

You scoff, “What’s up with you and Jake?”

“I asked first,” he mumbles around the head of the toothbrush tucked inside his cheek.

You remain glued to the toilet seat, pondering over the question in silence as he continues brushing his perfect teeth. A part of you is hopeful that he'll drop the topic altogether, but the curious raise of his brows says otherwise. You wish you knew the right answer — the perfect explanation for what you were. In reality, you don’t have a clue of what the label would be. You haven’t created the space for it in your life yet. “Fine,” you sigh. “I honestly don’t know what’s up with us. Weeks ago I got a tattoo done by him and by the end of that night, I ended up fucking both of them.”

A few seconds pass, making you look up to see Kai’s eyes widen in the mirror until he breaks away to stare at you.

You laugh nervously, “I know. It’s kind of crazy to think about, but it’s been going on like that — with both of them since then.”

He spits a mouthful of toothpaste into the sink before following up. “Are you guys like…dating?”

The question takes you back, but you can’t say you didn’t see it coming. “I don’t think so. Not like…conventionally in any way.” Saying the words not only to yourself but in front of Kai fills you with a sense of dread and growing shame. You can’t hide behind your ignorance or delusions. Not being able to hold eye contact, your focus drops to your hands as you anxiously pick at your nail beds. “He always gives me mixed signals and I never know what he’s thinking most of the time. When I feel like I get close, he kind of shuts me out almost. Sometimes I get the feeling like we’re a couple…and then sometimes it’s like I’m just a friend with benefits to him.” Your head falls, and finally spit out the fear that's been lingering in the back of your throat. “…I think he’s been sleeping with other girls though.”

He huffs a dry laugh, missing the shift in your tone, “That’s Jake for you.” It was a poor attempt at bringing some levity back, but when he realizes that is failing, sincerity washes over his sharp features. “I’m sorry, kitten.”

Your voice breaks when you ask, “Is that really how he is?”

He shrugs, taking another washcloth from the stack to wipe the corners of his mouth. “He’s always been closed off and to himself, but I can’t say he’ll be opening up to me any time soon.”

You finally get up to turn on the shower, “Yeah, I guess. But what’s the deal with you and him? Why does he hate you so much?”

Kai watches you work the handles to find the right temperature before stepping in. He winces, sucking in a breath through his teeth. “Oh…well. I’m pretty sure he hates me because I may or may not have unknowingly slept with his ex.”

That wasn’t the answer you were expecting from him. It stuns you, taking you by surprise as warm water sprays over you. “You what?!”

He shushes you dramatically with a finger to his lips as he follows you inside the shower. “Let me explain,” he starts with a weak laugh, but the smile accompanying it doesn’t reach his eyes. “So at the time, his girl, Roxi, was at this random house party that I went to. She approached me that night and we hit it off, but she somehow conveniently skipped around divulging the fact that she was with, or had very recently broken up with him. One thing led to another —yada, yada, yada— we ended up hooking up that night. The next morning I woke up to a frightening amount of angry and wildly alarming texts and voicemails from Jake. Come to find out, someone saw us together and had told him. To me, she was a hot girl that wanted to have some fun. But to him, I ruined his fucking world and he hasn’t forgiven me since.”

Your mouth drops open but you don’t bother catching it. You stand before him, blindsided by the bombshell dropped in your hands. “Oh my god. You didn’t know?”

He shrugs, reaching for Jake’s shampoo bottle off the tile ledge. “No, I had no clue. I know you’ve never met her, but if you do, you will see that she has a certain way about her.” He chuckles, but it sounds more like a warning. “I should’ve known it was a bad decision from the jump, but c’est la vie I guess.”

Processing everything he has just told you proves to be a nearly impossible feat, but it’s able to bring some clarity to his behavior while leaving you wanting more. “Does Jake know that you didn’t know?”

He scoffs at the notion, “You honestly think Jake gives a fuck about that? He probably assumes I have some fucked up motive to steal you away from him too. Which I can’t say I blame him for.” He pauses, massaging the high-end shampoo into a rich lather through his raven-black locks. “So it’s looking like I don’t know how to learn my lesson…but where’s the fun in that?”

You reach for the same bottle, throwing him a disappointed glare. “No wonder he’s so pissed at me. I’m such an asshole, Kai.”

He places his soapy hands on your shoulders, grounding you to him and reassuring you with an affectionate touch. “And how were you supposed to know that, hmm? His hatred for me goes way back… way before you ever came into the picture, trust me.”

He’s trying. You’ll give him that, but the words don’t help ease the guilt you’re feeling. “I certainly didn’t make it better. He’s going to be so upset.”

Kai’s fingers knead away the tightness in your neck. He’s trying to distract you now, and you don’t fight him on it. “I can hold my own and so can he.”

“Does Josh know?”

He hesitates, even if it’s only for a few seconds.“Yeah, but he kind of went Switzerland on the whole thing. He stuck his head down and minded his business, which was probably for the best. Josh learned early on not to insert himself between Roxi and Jake.”

You try not to let the truth leave a stain on your evening, but it bleeds through regardless.“Why didn’t he say anything to me about her?”

“Probably didn’t think she was important enough to.” Kai isn’t oblivious to how this is affecting you either. He closes the remaining distance between you, tipping your chin up with a careful nudge of his finger, drawing your drifting attention back to him. His piercing green eyes appear darker than before — softer even. The game you found yourselves in has ended, and the intentions behind them have shifted, making you feel comfortable in his embrace. “Listen, don’t let this shit get in the way. If Jake is out here holding grudges, that’s on him.”

You look up and stare into his haunting irises, muttering, “Okay…yeah. You’re right.”

Just as you take in his details —the fans of dark lashes framing his eyes, the water rolling off the bridge of his nose, the heavy droplets falling from the ends of his hair— he studies yours. “You love him, don’t you?”

“H-Huh? What?”

“Josh.” A smirk plays on his lips just as his fingers snake up your neck and skate across your scalp. “I can see it in your eyes when you look at him.”

Him calling you out like that flusters you, and you begin to stammer over yourself. His expression softens at the sight of your anxiety, and he leans in to place a gentle kiss on your open lips.

It’s chaste and sweet, verging on platonic rather than sexual. “Relax, kitten. I get it. Your secret is safe with me.”

You think of him sleeping peacefully stretched across his bed. You’re blushing, still high of the euphoria and weed from earlier. You've been convincing yourself that it’s puppy love, or at least textbook infatuation, so you take his observation with a grain of salt. Deciding to change the subject, you ask with a quirked brow, “So what if I met you first?”

His facial expression shows he’s a little surprised by your question, but doesn’t stumble over it for long. “If you met me first? …Well, I would have wooed like I did tonight.” He grins, pausing to capture your lips in another kiss, one that lingers this time. “Fucked your pretty brains out for a few weeks and string you along before slowly distancing myself. Probably tell you that I’m not looking for anything serious because I’m horrendously emotionally unavailable.”

You huff a tired laugh, rolling your eyes before dipping your head under the stream of water. “At least you’re honest.”

“Always.”

Sadness starts to settle when you realize how fleeting this is with him, weighing down on your heart. “So what’s gonna happen tomorrow?”

He hums, mirroring a similar feeling. It pulls his lips into a frown before he hides it with a shallow smile. “We’ll wake up a little hungover, maybe have some more fun. Then we’ll have breakfast and say our goodbyes and I’ll keep being his friend just the same as I did before.”

Your eyes fall from his as you nod along to the rose and fall of his voice. You’re starting to grow attached, and trying your best not to let the reality of this being the last time you’ll see him upset you.

“Hey, stay with me, okay?”

Your shoulders fall but you mask your emotions with a brave face.“Okay.”

“He feels the same way you do, you know?”

“I dunno about that. You both seem pretty similar in that regard.”

“I’m serious. I can tell. Even if he’s totally being “Josh” about his feelings. I know him well enough to know that they’re there.”

You startle awake. flying into a sitting position to find that you’re alone in Josh’s bed. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you guess it's late morning with how bright the sunlight is shining through the blinds. Worried that you’ve slept too long, you scramble across the mattress to snatch your phone from the nightstand.

10:37

You hear voices coming from the kitchen, and even through the bedroom walls, you can tell it’s Josh and Kai. You slide off the bed, shuffle over to the dresser, and pull out a band tee from the drawer before stepping out of the room.

“So you like this girl, huh?” Kai asks. It makes you stop in the middle of the hallway and your heart begins to race. You inch closer, stepping quietly enough not to be detected.

You hear Josh let out a slow, deep sigh, “Yeah. I like her a lot.”

Your chest cinches a few notches tighter, sending your heart up into the back of your throat. A part of you feels terrible for eavesdropping on a private conversation, but your curiosity keeps your feet planted on the floor.

“Are you just fucking or is there more to this one?”

You stop breathing, bracing yourself for his honesty. Despite what Kai had told you hours ago, you had your doubts about his true feelings.

“I like to think there’s more than just sex. Fuck, Kai. I think about her all the time. I just want to spend every moment of the day with her. Every day. I don’t know what to do with myself anymore. I’ve never been this crazy about anyone before…which fucking scares the shit out of me. And you know me.”

“I do. And she’s got feelings for Jake?”

“Probably. Every time I feel like we’re getting a little bit closer, she pulls away and runs to him.”

There’s a pause before Kai hums to himself. “Do you think he has feelings for her?”

“Maybe? It’s hard to tell with him sometimes.”

“Has he dated anyone since her?”

“Roxi?” He pauses for a few seconds. “No, not really. He’s slept with a few, but none of them hung around long enough for me to remember their name.”

“He’s really still holding a grudge about that, huh?”

“Have you met Jake?” Josh snorts a laugh.

“Do you think he’s still hung up on her?”

“For a moment I thought he wasn’t, but sometimes I just don’t know. They were together for five years, Kai.”

Five years.

“Fuck.” Kai seems to share the same thought. “She certainly didn’t act like it.”

Josh lets out a light chuckle, sounding like he’s moving farther away from you. “She never did. But hey, I’m just glad she’s finally out of his life. Last I heard she was living with some tattoo artist guy in Vegas.”

“…You ever?”

“Fuck no! Are you kidding me?!” Josh scoffs, nearly wrenching at the thought. “Besides the obvious fact that he would’ve murdered me in my sleep, there was a higher chance of her Lorena Bobbit’ing my ass than me having any semblance of a good time.”

Kai laughs, causing his cackle to echo throughout the house. “The crazier the better in my opinion.”

“You would say that.” Josh’s voice and his footsteps grow distant from you, making it sound as though he’s making his way toward the kitchen.

“Sounds like you got quite the mess to sort through.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m just worried about it. I did tell her that I would be okay if she wanted to only be with him though.”

Hearing him say those feelings out loud to Kai brings you back to that moment in the car and the guilt you felt, how you both reassured each other the best way you knew how.

“Do you honestly believe that you would?”

“I’d have to be, right?” The disappointment and sadness in his voice is palpable.

“Do you think she would do that?”

“I don’t know…” You fight the urge to rush in there and reassure him in some way.

Kai sighs, pausing for a minute before speaking, “I don’t know about what’s going with Jake, but she fucking adores you, Josh. It’s not much coming from me because I don’t get all lovey-dovey and shit, but I see it. The way she looks at you, she cares about you. That much I do know.”

“Fuck. I dunno…maybe you’re right. I get the feeling she’s holding back something from me…” he trails off. “What about you? Do you adore me, Kai?”

“I always will, pretty boy. If there’s a day that you’re single and I’m finally ready to settle down, You’ll be the one I’ll call.”

“Oh, I’m so flattered,” Josh giggles.

“Shut the fuck up. You know I’m a mess and a walking red flag. You’re too good for me anyway.”

“What can I say? I’m drawn to toxic like a moth to a flame, baby.”

“No, that’s your fucking twin.”

You decide it’s time to make your presence known and walk into the living room. They are both leaning against opposite ends of the kitchen counter when Josh hears you enter. You make your way across the room, catching a knowing look from Kai — one that you’ll choose to ignore for now. Josh perks up, giving you that beaming smile of his. “Hey, baby. How’d you sleep?”

Once you’re close enough, he sets his coffee mug down and pulls you in for a warm embrace, an action so domestic it makes your heart flutter. Knowing what you heard moments ago threatens to overwhelm you, but you try your best to keep yourself calm. You hold his slender waist, giving him a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Pretty good. Didn’t like waking up in an empty bed.”

He frowns as he plays with the hem of your shirt, but it spreads into a grin when he sees that it’s one of his own. Looking down at you with a playful glint in his eye, he bites down at his bottom lip while his hands roam freely up and down your body. “I’m sorry, sweet girl. I just couldn’t bring myself to wake you, and I thought you should sleep in a little longer.”

He then reaches over and grabs his mug to take another sip. Curious, you tip it down to see what’s inside, asking, “What’s this?”

“Oh! Kai was able to figure out how to use Jake’s ridiculously expensive espresso machine,” he explains, gesturing with the tip of his chin to Kai behind you. “I know we aren’t fancy baristas like you.”

You turn to look at Kai, who is taking a massive bite out of the center of a piece of buttered toast. “You made this?”

Kai nods with a confident smirk, brushing the crumbs off his fingers, and mumbling, “I did. Want one?”

“I would love one,” you reply, pleasantly surprised. While Josh keeps his hands busy massaging your shoulders, you watch Kai start setting up the machine for your shot of espresso. “Don’t you have to be at the shop this morning?”

Josh lets out a whimsical sigh, but it’s obvious he’s less than thrilled. “Sam opened for me, but I gotta head over there at noon.”

The deadbolt of the front door unlocks, throwing you all into a standstill of silence as the ominous clack of boot heels hits the wooden floor. Your eyes glue themselves to the threshold of the living room, waiting for him to step into view.

Anxiety and guilt send your heart racing into a panic state. You haven’t had the time to pull together a decent explanation to defend yourself. It doesn’t matter, because the second you see him, the words you could’ve prepared would’ve vanished.

Jake pauses in the entryway, scanning over the scene of the three of you before him. His eyes are covered with a pair of dark wire-rimmed sunglasses that hide his expression from you. You brace for an explosive reaction and fight back the nausea bubbling in the pit of your belly.

If there were a record playing, the needle would be sent across the vinyl with a theatrical scratch.

You watch the tightly wound muscles of his jaw clench as he sets his guitar case down on the floor with a heavy thud. His movements are slow, but calculated. There’s no doubt he’s angry. He’s practically seething with disgust. You look over to Josh, desperate for a sense of direction but the worry in his eyes gives you little to no hope.

He removes his sunglasses and hooks them over the collar of his t-shirt, giving you the sight of the tired circles framing his hollow eyes. “You know, Kai… I thought I made it extremely clear to you that I never wanted to see your face ever again. And yet, you come into my place of business anyway. Which, I let slide because I love my brother. But the fact you’re in my fucking house—“

“I’m not one to turn down an invitation,” Kai interrupts, baiting Jake.

“Get. Out,” Jake snarls through gritted teeth, letting himself slip. The tension in the room feels like a disease, infecting every inch of your body with each passing second.

Kai lets the silence stale as his eyes pan across the room, locking on yours for a few seconds longer than they should. “Well, everyone, it seems as though I’ve overstayed my welcome,” he sings with a sleepy lilt, setting down his half-empty coffee mug on the counter. He steps toward Josh at a leisurely pace, pulling him in for an affectionate and gentle kiss to mumble against his lips, “It’s been wonderful. I hope to do this again sometime.” Josh relaxes enough to smile from the touch, but the stiffness returns as soon as Kai separates from him.

Kai makes his way around the island and leans down to you to place a dramatic kiss on your lips. Knowing that Jake is watching, he makes sure to slip his tongue enough for him to see. He breaks away to breathe you in, humming in satisfaction, “It’s been a true pleasure, kitten.”

“That’s enough.” Jake’s voice cuts through the air with a razor’s edge.

Your face flames hot with a feeling of shame. There’s no denying what happened. There’s no backtracking the events of last night in an attempt to smooth things over. Not only has Jake caught you, but you’re rubbing the very idea of it in his face. Keeping his jade-colored eyes locked on yours, Kai straightens upright. The shit-eating grin and the wink he gives you is a tell-all. He’s not intimidated by him in the slightest — it’s all just another play of the game. With the cocky smile fixed on Kai’s face, he turns to face him. “Don’t tell me you’re threatened by me, Jake.”

Exhibiting an unwavering ego, Kai takes confident strides in the face of danger. There’s an unbridled rage tearing at the weakened seams of Jake’s composure, and you’re within seconds of witnessing it. Kai steps between him and the wall, towering over him by those crucial inches. You’ve seen this type of display before — that standoff between Josh and Jake in the tiny office. However, this feels very different to you. This goes beyond petty sibling rivalry. The glimmer in Kai’s eyes tells you he’s nowhere close to laying down and showing his belly for mercy.

He should just pass by Jake and walk right out that door, but he doesn’t. He gives in to the temptation and decides to toss out a final taunt. “She was a real treat last night.” The way the words slip so effortlessly from his quick-witted tongue leaves a bitterness on yours. “Which isn’t a surprise. I’ve always admired your taste. Although I will say I like her a lot better than Roxi.”

Jake suddenly lunges forward with the same ferocity of a rabid dog, grabbing fistfuls of Kai’s button-up. “Get her name out of your fucking mouth, you piece of shit!”

Being arguably stronger, roughly forty pounds heavier, and a couple of inches taller, Kai reacts quicker than your brain can process, making it seem as though it’s a frenzied blur of motion. He shoves Jake backward by the scruff of his shirt, throwing him into the opposite wall with enough force to make the picture frames rattle from the impact. Jake’s pinned, having all the air knocked from his chest. As calm as Kai seems to be, you’re not ignorant of the pacified aggression lying just beneath the surface. Through Jake’s grunts, he makes his threat clear as they stare into the darkest corners of their minds through each other’s eyes, “Don’t do anything you’ll regret, Jake.”

Afraid of the worst, your head snaps back to Josh, silently begging him to do anything to diffuse the situation. Fear has cast over his features as well, leaving you both frozen in place to watch it all unfold in front of your very eyes.

“Get the fuck off me!” Jake spits, ripping Kai’s hands from his clothing with a frustrated throw of his arms.

There’s so much more that he wishes to do. He wants to tear Kai to shreds — to throw a well-deserved punch into that chiseled jaw, to break that perfect nose, to leave him bloody and bruised, but he knows that the odds are stacked against him. It’s an unfair fight with far more disadvantages than he wants to admit. This is a match between a man with everything to lose and one wagering absolutely nothing.

While Jake blows the violent plumes of his anger through flared nostrils, Kai irons out the new wrinkles of his shirt with an unbothered pass of his palm. “And with that, I bid you all adieu.” Aware that the stakes are rising by the second, he doesn’t wait for the responses that are stuck in your throat and goes to leave. Before he takes the final step out of the door, he looks over his shoulder. “And Jake? That temper is going to get the best of you one day. Don’t let it get away from you.”

Jake throws up a middle finger, a gesture to which Kai responds with a dry, humorless laugh before closing the door behind him. Josh hears the door latch into place and steps toward his brother, calling out to him, “Jake—“

“Fuck you!” The words shot out of his mouth as a verbal strike — meant only to hurt. He hasn’t bothered looking at you until now, but when those eyes find you, you deeply wish they hadn’t. He glares at you with black, wounded eyes basted in pure, undiluted disappointment. You hate that look. It makes you feel sick and riddled with shame.

He picks up his guitar case, breaking eye contact to shoot Josh a hateful look of his own. He jabs a finger in the air, pointing directly at his brother. “You’re a fucking prick.”

Josh recoils but doesn’t say another word in defense. Pissed and not wanting to stay another second, Jake takes off down the hall toward the bedrooms.

You leap off the barstool, sending the chair skidding across the floor as you call after him, “Jake, wait! Let me explain!”

“Jake!” You bolt down the hall after him, but he doesn’t stop or at the very least, slow down for you. He doesn’t even bother glancing back at you to give you a hateful look. The only thing you’re given in return for your efforts is a slammed door in your face. You can only stare at the painted wood, contemplating whether you should knock or barge right in.

He’s shut you out — figuratively and literally.

Deflated, you walk aimlessly into Josh’s bedroom. Your feet are working separately from your mind, carrying you to his bed. You crawl on top of the disheveled duvet and breathe in the dissipating scent of Kai’s cologne. All you want to do is disappear, to take away the feeling that’s closing the walls of your chest.

You curl into the fetal position, making yourself as small as you possibly can. Lying there, you have a hard time telling how much time has passed when you hear Josh walking into the room and feel his weight shift across the mattress.

“Hey,” he says quietly, carefully reaching out to touch the back of your arm to comfort you. Feeling as though you don’t deserve it, you flinch from the gentle contact, shrugging his hand from your body. He sighs, “I know you’re mad at me, baby.” He then clears his throat, but the defeat coats every word like a sickness, “You have every right to be, honestly. I…I probably wasn’t in my right frame of mind last night. I mean don’t regret it… but shit… I wasn’t thinking that clearly either. I saw how the two of you were at the bar and saw the chance. I was so blinded by this fantasy I’ve had to sleep with him that I forgot about your feelings in all this. I didn’t care about Jake either. I knew he would be pissed but I didn’t care.” You can hear how painful the last sentence is to his heart. “I’m sorry I pulled you into this.”

You stare at the collection of vintage posters on his wall, letting the apology brew in your thoughts as you study the images. You aren’t angry with him. You never were, but you don’t have the energy to correct him on it now. You can’t even say you regret what happened with Kai, but you need answers to the questions assaulting the forefront of your mind. “Tell me about Roxi.”

Some time passes before he cuts through the looming silence. “Ah…shit. I don’t even know where to start with that,” he begins as he stretches across the bed next to you. You listen quietly, keeping your back to him. “I guess they met when they were about twenty or twenty-one. We were all fresh out of our apprenticeships when he started tattooing her and didn’t take long for them to become a thing. A will-they-won’t-they, on-again-off-again thing for five fucking years, babe. One minute they would be the sweetest lovebirds in front of you and then the next they were going at each other’s throats. I don’t want to say it was just her that was the problem, but she put him through a lot of bullshit for a long time.”

You can’t ignore the hints of anger in his voice. “He was in love with her?”

“In love with the idea of her. A version of her that will never, ever exist. I don’t care what anyone says to me about it. That’s what I believe. For years he chased after what he thought she could be. He was so convinced she was ‘the one’ that he bought a ring and everything. But there was no telling him that. It was one of those things you just had to let play out and let him learn for himself.”

You’re not sure why the truth he’s been hiding from you hurts, but it does. You lay silent, repeating Josh’s words over in your mind.

Josh isn’t oblivious to your broken breathing pattern — how hard you’re holding back from crying. He risks another touch by brushing his fingertips across your back. “Roxi has been out of the picture for a while, baby. Please don’t hold that weight on your shoulders. His issues with Kai don’t have anything to do with you and I, okay?”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

He stammers over his words, “I-I don’t know…I was selfish about you. I guess that it was easier to stuff his skeletons back in the closet. Maybe I thought it would be bad to put his business out there like that. Or maybe I thought she was in the past and it didn’t matter anymore.”

“He doesn’t even want to talk to me,” your voice croaks, broken from our hitched breath. “You saw it. He didn’t even want to look at me, Josh.”

He sighs, turning to nuzzle into the nape of your neck while wrapping a loose arm around your midsection. “He’ll come around, babe. He always does.” It’s hard to believe him, especially from what you heard about Jake holding grudges,

You feel the vibration of his phone against your ass. He lets out an annoyed groan, shifting to dig it out from his front pocket. “Shit! Today of all fucking days…” His sigh might as well have the weight of the world. He rests his forehead against your back, mumbling into the worn cotton, “I gotta head to the shop. Would you like to stay here or do you want me to drive you home?”

The thought of packing your stuff and leaving to be home by yourself nearly crushes you. You feel embarrassed, but ask anyway, “Is it okay if I just lay here for a while?”

“Of course, baby,” he coos reassuringly, placing a kiss on your cheek before crawling off the bed. He knows you need the space, so he doesn’t push any more affection onto you yet. “Text or call if you need anything.”

“I will.”

It’s been hours since Josh left for work, and you spent most of that time rotting in the duvet cocoon feeling sorry for yourself. There was a nap or two, but nothing to make you feel well-rested in any sense. If anything, you feel more exhausted, but with dusk finally falling, you’re forced to crack open the door. You hear the ominous sounds of someone shuffling around in the kitchen. The hallway is cast in darkness, but you can see that Jake’s door is open.

You’re going to have to face him.

There’s no avoiding it.

It looks as though he’s cooking dinner, prepping the pile of vegetables stacked on the center of the counter. He’s chopping away but doesn’t lift his head as you step closer. You know he hears you, so you stand on the opposite side of the island and wait for him to finally acknowledge you.

Even though he’s changed his clothing to a different band t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, he’s never seemed more uncomfortable. His long hair is tied back in a messy, low bun with loose strands falling around his face. You make the first move to break the silence. “Are we gonna talk or what?”

The muscles of his jaw tighten, but he keeps his lips sealed together in an expressionless, thin line. “Jake, come on,” you prod, your impatience growing with every second he chooses to ignore you. He continues chopping, keeping his focus on the large onion pressed beneath his fingertips. His behavior ignites a flash of anger inside you like a struck match. “Are you seriously giving me the silent treatment right now?!” Nothing. Just the repetitive sound of the blade thumping against the cutting board. “Can you just tell me you’re mad?”

Your incessant pestering distracts him, causing the butcher knife to escape from his stranglehold grasp, cutting his finger which makes him drop the blade and hiss a curse under his breath. Instead of breaking away to tend to the fresh wound, he goes back to chopping the rest of the onion.

“You’re bleeding, Jake,” you mutter, thinking that he would’ve noticed the trail of blood running down the side of his palm and smearing across the vegetable. “Can you please just look at me? Talk to me.” You don’t care that you’re unwelcome. You won’t leave until you get a reaction out of him. “Just fucking say something. Anything. I know you’re pissed at me. Just tell me I’m fucking horrible. Tell me you hate me. Just say something.”

The fraying line that’s been keeping his composure finally snaps within seconds. He snatches the glass bowl full of diced onions sitting on the counter and hurls it into the wall to your right, screaming with rage as it flies through the air.

The small bowl shatters on impact, sending an explosion of glass shards and tiny bits of onion everywhere.

“FUCK!”

You recoil from the sound and the rise of his voice, staring blankly at the scene before you after being stunned into silence. This is the first real, raw emotion he’s shown you, and you’re not sure what to do with it. Several seconds of silence pass before you can finally breathe, “What the fuck is the matter with you?!”

He’s gripping the edge of the countertop with his head hung low, mumbling, “You just don’t understand.”

“What don’t I understand?”

He reaches for the crumpled tea towel beside him and wraps it around his bleeding finger, muttering in a low, calculated voice, “Kai is a fucking drifter and a player.” He clenches his fist around the soiled cloth, causing his knuckles to turn a ghostly shade of white. “He goes from one person to the next whenever he gets bored with them. It’s always been about an easy fuck for him. He fucking used you like he does everyone else. Don’t you see that?! He doesn’t care about you, dove.” The muscles tighten over his jaw while his darkened, sunken eyes rise to meet yours, giving you an icy scowl that threatens to make the blood run cold in your veins. “Never has, never will.”

Defensiveness comes as a visceral reaction for you. He’s dead wrong, and the last thing you’re about to do is let him barrel over you to prove it. You firmly stand your ground, spitting back harsh words of your own, “Sounds like someone I know.”

“Excuse me?!” He scoffs, chucking the ruined towel off to the side. That one hurt, and the pained look on his face is one you won’t forget.

You dig your heels in, throwing your arms in frustration as you double down, “Oh, so you can fuck all the girls you want but it’s suddenly a problem when I sleep with Kai?!”

Your thrown-in confession causes him to flinch, but confusion becomes layered deep within his anger. “Other girls? What the fuck are you talking about?!”

“The girls you’re texting, Jake! The women that pop up on your phone all the time!” You scream out, pointing to his phone resting on the counter. “Don’t think I don’t see it.”

“Wait a minute…Are you talking about my clients?!” He snaps, fraying apart while staying oblivious to the droplets of blood that are about to drip onto the floor.

“Oh please, Jake,” you huff, rolling your eyes as you cross your arms over your chest, which brings his attention to the fact you’re wearing Josh’s shirt. “Don’t treat me like I’m an idiot. I may be naive, but I’m not that fucking stupid.”

He laughs and inhales deeply, reigning in the anger enough to say the following words slowly, as if to spoon-feed you what he’s about to say, “I’m not fucking anyone else. I don’t know how else to explain that to you.”

A shred of doubt reveals itself. You want to trust him but your wounded pride forces you to mask it by deflecting. “And you really expect me to believe that? I saw how you flirted with those girls in the front row last night.”

His eyes widen in disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me?! You had your tongue shoved halfway down Kai’s throat!”

“What does it matter?! You acted like I didn’t exist, Jake! That I was a nobody to you. Now you’re trying to pin some kind of blame on me for what happened in the past between you and him. But guess what? I’m not Roxi.”

That flipped a massive switch, and for a split second, you almost regret letting her name leave your mouth. You’ll admit that it was immature of you, but you don’t care. The anger that's been kept at a steady simmer between you boils over into a seething rage, popping and bursting onto anything that stands too close. He points a threatening finger at you, spitting the venom-dipped words, “Don’t you fucking dare act like you know anything about her, because you don’t. But you’re right. I expected you to have higher standards for who you fucked than she did.”

“Well, I slept with you, didn’t I?!” You sneer, throwing his insult back in his face. He becomes unrecognizable from the tears glazing over your tired eyes, pooling at your lashes before they have the chance to spill over. You’re just out to hurt each other now, throwing verbal punches to see who can cause the most damage.

It seems as though you got the last shot in because he doesn’t strike out at you again. There are no smartass remarks for him to come back with. His eyes break away from yours, and his gaze falls to the bloody cutting board resting on the counter in front of him. “This was a fucking mistake.”

Moments ago you were shouting at each other from across the granite countertop, but now the house is deathly quiet after hearing those five words, so quiet that the air becomes too thick for you to breathe. The way his voice cracked ever so slightly makes your heart plummet into the pit of your stomach. You wait, hoping that it’s not what you think it means, or perhaps you’re just anticipating the worst.

Your voice catches from trying not to cry, “What’s a mistake?”

This feeling terrifies you. You’ve been betting against the odds this whole time, risking it all on the chance you wouldn’t care for him this way. You’ve been ignorant, determined to convince yourself that you weren’t falling in love.

Love.

How could you fall in love with both of them like this?

This should be a euphoric moment for anyone— something to be celebrated and cherished. Most would be confessing it under far different circumstances, instead you’re staring at that same man with hurt welling in his eyes. You run away from it like a coward, forced to bury it deep and shove it away before it has a chance to break you.

His shoulders fall as if all life has been drained from him. He waves an outstretched hand to nothing in particular, but there’s no life in the movement. “This.”

Uncomfortable silence stales between you, and his eyes flicker up to meet yours. You see his brother’s softness in his face — a vulnerability he makes sure to keep from you. The look paired with the answer he gave crushes you. There’s a real possibility that you could lose him now that you’ve done an expert job of pushing him away. The need to be closer compels you to take a step, and you start to circle your way around the island. “So this is it then?”

Your hand follows the hard edge of the counter as you round the corner, sliding across its smooth surface. You grip onto it, using it as the only thing to ground yourself until you’re standing beside him. He doesn’t say a single word, move an inch, or even make an attempt to look at you. If anything, he stiffens from your presence. Feeling like he’s giving up on you, you challenge in a low voice, “Are you really done because you got jealous?”

“I’m not fucking jealous!” he shouts, slamming his hand down onto the counter through the resurgence of that rage. You jump back hearing the cutting board rattle beneath his palm, but it doesn’t scare you away. He’s just as scared, breathing heavily, watching you reach a hand out from the corner of his eye. He flinches when you touch his arm, but he doesn’t move away from you. In a weaker, pained voice, he says, “Do you actually think I don’t care about you?”

“Jake?” You whisper meekly, just barely grazing over his splayed fingers out of sheer desperation to connect with him in some way. Your heart aches when you see him pull his hand from yours, leaving behind a red stain across the wooden board. “Jake, please.”

You step into the heat and scent of his body, bringing yourself inches from him. Your broken pleas are the only thing you can offer, begging your way in despite his rejection to keep you out. He warns with your name pushing past his lips through a tired sigh.

You ignore it. With only a breath between you, you nudge your nose into the side of his neck, brushing your lips across the warm skin so faintly he might question if the feeling is real. He shudders through a harsh swallow but doesn’t push you away. You abandon your morals, kissing his throat with much more intent. A soft groan echoes in his throat as your tongue flicks across him and in the blink of an eye, he snatches your wrist, pulling you back.

You suck in a sharp breath, startled by his movements. While the hold he has on you isn’t painful, it’s firm, keeping you pinned between him and the island’s granite edge.

His other hand finds the nape of your neck, and he knots his fingers in your hair, forcing you to look up at him. You watch, dumbfounded as his bloodshot eyes scan over your face until they lock with yours. You accept your vulnerable state, submitting to him without a single word of protest.

“Oh, dove,” he hums, clicking his tongue. “Look at you…whimpering and crawling your way back to me like this. Do I need to lick your wounds for you, too?” He mocks in that gravelly voice of his, sending the words across your lips, each one bathed in whiskey as if he had recently taken a sip. You know he’s far from drunk, remembering the half-filled rocks glass sitting on the counter. “It’s pathetic. Did he even make you cum? Or did he need Josh’s help for that too?”

It should piss you off—the way he’s speaking to you like this. If you had any sense or dignity left, you would shove him off you and storm back into Josh’s room to gather your belongings.

Knowing you don’t have a response, he continues, “My sweet, beautiful dove. Is that name even fitting for you anymore? Or are you a cuckoo — tricking your way into my nest pretending to be something you’re not? I trusted you, yet here I am with betrayal finding me once again.”

“I’m sorry,” you squeak out, your strength cracking beneath him.

“Why should I let you back in? Do you think you’ve earned my forgiveness?” He hisses, his hurt seeping into the hushed sound. You don’t blame him. You’re not even confident that you could convince yourself that you deserve it. Left speechless, you’re only able to look up at him, glassy and doe-eyed with your tears falling freely down your flushed cheeks.

The sight of you changes something within him. He curses to himself before his lips collide with yours, angry and needy. He ruts himself against you, letting go of your wrist to brace himself on the counter. The kiss is heady— desperate with hunger as if he has been starving for this. He pants your name in a bated breath, confessing, “Don’t you see my weakness for you?”

It makes you throb to hear it. You need him. God, you need him and you don’t care what it’ll cost you. He devours you, licking into your mouth to consume everything he can. The smokey taste of him, the feeling of his dominant tongue running along yours, the nipping of his teeth on your lips. With your hand free, you search across his thigh, quickly finding his erection through his sweatpants. The thin fabric does nothing to hide it, letting you feel how hard he truly is.

You stroke your fingers over his covered length, but he stops you from dipping them beneath his waistband. Breaking away from the kiss, he warns, “I’m not going to be gentle with you.”

“I don’t care,” you whine into his mouth, fighting the grasp he has around your arm.

He squeezes your hand, emphasizing again, “I’m serious. I’m not going to be careful, dove.”

You glare into his eyes, staying in his darkened irises — perhaps to call his bluff or maybe to bait him further. “I want this.”

“Fine,” he huffs, releasing your hand. He then steps back, flipping you around to face away from him. Before you can react, he places a hand flat between your shoulder blades, pushing you down until your chest is flush with the counter’s surface. You shiver the chill of the stone against your hardening nipples through your shirt. “Is this really what you want?”

You swallow to wet your tongue, answering, “Yes.”

Without another warning, his open palm connects with your ass, cracking against the flesh with a powerful slap. You cry out as the sting radiates, prickling the skin with its heat.

“I turn my back for one second and I catch you giving your perfect pussy away to him.” His fingertips skim across the raised mark he left, tracing along the edge of your panties before hooking the band and pulling the cotton down your legs. You hear the threads of it rip on the way to the floor, then feel his fingers ghost over your bare cunt. He spits, and you imagine how it looks as he starts stroking himself before pressing the head of his cock to your entrance. “Don’t forget your color.”

There’s no foreplay to get you ready for him this time because he buries himself inside you in a single powerful thrust. The moan that heaves from your chest is guttural. You welcome the pain of him stretching you out so quickly, groaning as it melts into pleasure when he slowly withdraws.

He doesn’t allow you to bask in it for long, snapping his hips forward to ram himself back into your cervix. His hand grips around your waist, balling the material of your shirt between his fingers.

He lives up to his word, fucking you harder than he ever has before. There’s no doubt that this is fueled by his anger or possibly a newfound hatred for you, but you take it all in, biting back your muffled cries. While your teeth create a row of indents into the flesh of your forearm, his fingers dig deeper into your hip. He doesn’t talk you through like he has in the past, giving you the sounds of his ragged breathing instead.

The rhythm he uses is unrelenting. The power behind his thrusts is unprecedented. He’s rough with you, just as he promised, pressing you against the cold, hard granite, left with nothing to brace yourself. You’re lost in it, overwhelmed by the fact that this might be the very last time you have him.

Fearful that you won’t be able to handle much more, you whimper out, “Jake.”

He suddenly freezes at the sound of his name and takes a minute for the both of you to catch your breath before pulling completely out of you. You panic thinking that it might be over, and plead over your shoulder. “No, don’t stop!”

“Color?”

“Green.”

He waits for a second before spinning you around to lift you onto the countertop. He slips himself back in, and after seeing how much you’ve been crying, tucks the hair stuck to your temple behind your ear and cradles your face to kiss you.

“Close your eyes for me,” he instructs calmly, effectively shushing you. You clutch onto his shoulders and wrap your legs about the small of his back, locking him inside you as you allow your eyelids to flutter closed. He holds you still, sending the warmth of his fluttering breath until his tongue passes over your cheek in a delicate flick. He licks up the trails of tears across your skin, cleaning the dried salt as he makes his way to your soaked lashes. He’s breaking you apart only to put you back together again.

A choked sob escapes you, “I’m so sorry, Jake.”

He groans in response to the sounds of your weeping, biting at your swelling cheek before burying his face in the crook of your neck. He breathes you in, and finds a new pace, gliding into you with a controlled ease.

“Say it again,” he growls against your ear with a deliberate thrust. “I need to hear you beg for it.”

“I’m sorry,” you whine, but absentmindedly. You’re more than distracted, using most of your focus on the way his cock hits your g-spot from the change in angle.

“Sorry for what?”

“For Kai,” you blurt out.

His hand wraps around your throat, tight enough to grab your attention and redirect it to him. “Use your words.”

You look at him, blinking away the cloudiness from your vision to see the sweat glistening across his forehead and his heavy-lidded eyes covering his blown pupils. You can be upset at him later, but for now, you give him the apology he wants. “I’m sorry for fucking Kai.”

He brings his lips to the shell of your ear — his exhale blowing from his nostrils like air from a pair of bellows. “I thought I told you I don’t fucking share, dove,” he scolds with the words searing off his tongue. “I let you fuck Josh.” A chill runs down your spine because he knows your feelings for his twin. Before tonight, this was all a role, an act that he knew turned you on. That line between it and the real him is becoming more and more blurred, with the phrase ringing in your ears, echoing around in your mind. “Don’t forget that.”

“Jake—“

He interrupts by swiping his wet fingers across your lips, painting them in a sticky, crimson smear. You lick across them, but there’s no denying the metallic taste of blood on your tongue. “Your pussy is mine,” he snarls, letting his jealousy possess him entirely.

He pulls away slightly and guides you to lean back, creating space between you. You’re able to see the soiled state of Josh’s white t-shirt that you’re wearing. It’s stained in a spattering of bloody prints and wrinkled beyond recognition. You can’t dwell on it for long because Jake’s pace has quickened again, and when he realizes you haven’t responded, he snaps, “Say it!”

There’s ferality in his gaze, and you’re running off the adrenaline of it all — blinded by poisonous lust and raw emotion. “It’s yours.”

“Now touch it. Make yourself cum for me.”

You do as you’re told without hesitation, bringing your shaky fingers to your clit. He holds onto your hips as his line of sight floats from your face down to your pussy, watching you pleasure yourself while he continues to fuck you.

You notice that his hair has fallen free from the hair elastic, draping most of his face in the curtain of chestnut locks. He’s held onto full control until this point, but now even he can’t hold back, grunting, “Fuck, I’ve missed this.”

Making eye contact with you, he tips his head and spits aggressively onto your swollen cunt — giving you an image you will never forget. He doesn’t even have to tell you what to do next. With slick fingers, you slip them effortlessly across yourself, using your favorite technique.

You’re close.

He’s beginning to falter as well, revealing to you that he’s not going to last much longer. You race to the finish line, frantic in your movements to make yourself orgasm. Fighting the temptation to cum, his strokes are a combination of deep and shallow, making sure to hit every spot inside you perfectly. He’s learned you well enough, after all.

“Be a good girl and make it up to me,” he pants desperately.

It doesn’t take much more for you to fall apart. Within seconds, it all comes crashing down around you. You claw for him to be as close as possible, tightening your shaky legs around his waist to keep him inside you. What would normally be euphoric moans sung into the air, are broken cries and muffled curses. It might’ve been the release you were craving the most, but not the one you needed.

Because you know when the dust begins to settle, you’ll be left with the truth of it all — those feelings without the sex to disguise them.

TAGLIST:

@gretavanbitches @dannyandthekiszkas @asparrowofthedawn96 @ageofnations @garbagevanfleet @pennylanefics @alexxavicry @gvfficrecs @jakeyboiiiiiii @doodle417 @richjaaasss @pr41sethemoon @gretavanflowerpowerrr @joshskittytickler @tripthelightfatality @maddie-van-fleet @sarakay-gvf @josiee-gvf @milkgemini @sammiejane22 @gretavanbear @capturethechaos @welllauragvf @averagemisfit03 @myownparadise96 @givemeyourtots2 @gretavangroove @objectsinspvce @myownparadise96 @feilores @josh-iamyour-mama @givemeyourtots2 @joshkiszkasbigtoe @mydarlingdanny @shutupdevvie @twinszka @busybeingtrash @carlybubs @demonrat444 @high-fidelity1 @jake-kiszkas-smirk @sunandthemoontwinflames @klarxtr @sacredthethreadgvf @gracev0609

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streamingcolors-gvf · 8 months

Text

Skin Deep - Part 8

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x f!reader x Jake Kiszka

Word Count: 14k

A/N: This took forever. I’m so sorry, guys. I really struggled with repetition in this one so I apologize in advance for that. Hope y’all enjoy! (Also this is pretty filthy so 👀)

As always, I love and appreciate all the support and feedback ❤️

Special shoutout to my lovely girls Nessa and Hannah for carrying my ass through this chapter. I wouldn’t have been able to get it done without them.

Warnings: cursing, drug use (marijuana), smoking, angst, sexually explicit content - MINORS DNI! 18+ (oral f!receiving, oral m!receiving, unprotected penetrative sex, edging, dirty talk, breeding kink, public sex, somnophilia - scene has been edited out

Masterpost

“I think we need to have a serious conversation.”

You release your arms from him as if the surface of his skin is scorching hot to the touch. Your vision blurs, making it feel like you have blinders on — tunnel vision. The entire world you’ve been blissfully living in for the past hour shrinks to the size of his bedroom in a matter of seconds. That high, the euphoria, the oxytocin surging through your veins has been sucked away as soon as the words left his mouth. It tightens in your chest like a vice grip, turning your stomach sour with regret. You’re not sure what scares you more, him being upset with you, or your visceral reaction to it. With a flick of his lighter, he takes a heavy hit while you sit on the bed behind him still as a statue.

Things have been left unresolved since that afternoon at the tattoo shop, and sex clearly didn’t keep it swept under the rug for very long. This issue between the two of you weighs you down, keeping your body fused to the mattress.

“Okay,” you finally mutter out a meek response as he blows the cloud of smoke above his head. He stays silent for far too long, leaving you to stare at the muscles of his back — each petal of his inked mandala — contracting with each breath he takes.

His head falls from his tense shoulders, and he disrupts the uncomfortable quiet by sending his words to the floor between his feet, “Do you just want to fuck Jake?”

The distant sound of his voice causes the guilt to swell like an overinflated balloon in your chest. You haven’t done your best to convince him of different intentions, and while the question itself seems within reason given the circumstances, it takes you by surprise nonetheless. “What?”

A defeated sigh tumbles out from his chest before he answers you in a tightly wound tone, “If you don’t want to keep fooling around with me anymore, that’s okay.”

“No!” You blurt out, panicked that you’ve torched whatever this is and that all you’ll be left with is extinguished embers. “No. Wait…what?” You dip your knee into the mattress to move closer to him. You shake the thoughts swirling around in your head for a coherent explanation. “Listen, Josh, I’m sorry for how that went down in there. I didn’t think Jake was going to say all of that and—”

The razor-sharp edge to his voice cuts off your desperate rambling, “I didn’t fuck that woman.”

He’s slammed a proverbial door into your face. It causes you to shrink in on yourself, making you accept that you haven’t been fair to him. You haven’t been transparent, even if you don’t exactly know what you’re supposed to be honest about. Your voice weakens just merely above a whisper, “I know… I’m not sure why I said those things. I’m so sorry.”

He doesn’t respond to your apology. Instead, he fiddles with the glass bowl of his bong, giving away that he’s just as anxious and uncomfortable. You dare another touch his back, but this time he relaxes to the feeling of your fingers. It’s the subtle reassurance you need for you to add, “I liked the flowers by the way.”

He peers over his shoulder enough to see you in his periphery. “You did?”

Your fingers slip into the fallen curls at the nape of his neck.“Yeah. They’re beautiful. I have them sitting on my table in my apartment.”

“I’m glad.” He smiles, but it fails in comparison to what it normally is. He stands and sets the glass piece on his dresser. There’s tension in his rigid movements like he has something else weighing on his mind.

You watch his unnatural demeanor, beckoning him to look into your eyes again. He avoids them by casting his own to the floor, making it feel as though you’re an intruder. It’s hard to ignore, like the grating hum of electricity through a poorly wired outlet. You decide to shimmy toward the side of the bed and ask, “Should I go?”

You mentally prepare yourself for his answer the best you can while he brings his gaze back to you. “No. I want you to stay.” The words are not as believable for you as they should be, and from the look on his face alone, he knows they’re not convincing enough either. Before you can make another move, he rushes to crawl back onto the bed to sit before you. “Really.”

He places a hand on your bare knee and that’s when you notice the red marks around his wrist from where the handcuffs rubbed his skin. You gasp, taking his hand to inspect them closer, “Oh my god, Josh! Are you okay?”

He glances down at them like you’re pointing it out to him for the first time. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

You rub your thumb over the tender skin apologetically. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have put those on you.”

He laughs, giving you a sense of relief now that the tension is starting to finally break, “Don’t be sorry, baby. I liked it, actually.”

You quirk your brow. “You did?”

He watches you massage his wrist and shrugs, answering matter-of-factly, “Yeah, but I probably would have liked it a lot more if it was just the two of us.”

He slips his hand away from you only to lean forward into a kiss. You instinctively fall backward as he moves, laying across the pile of pillows at the head of the bed. “I’ll make a note of that.”

“Good. Add it to the list,” he hums, smiling into the kiss as his lips meet yours. His movements are soft and gentle — far more affectionate than the ones you had shared minutes prior.

Before the kiss has a chance to deepen, he breaks away to say, “Lay with me for a while.” There’s a vulnerability in his request that makes you ache from the need to comfort him. You answer by lifting your dress over your head and reaching out for him.

He lowers himself with your guiding pull until his head rests against your bare chest. You cradle him in your arms while he wraps his own around your waist. His body fits along yours seamlessly, and within seconds, his tight muscles begin to loosen. You lay in silence, listening to his rhythmic breaths as you draw shapes on his back with calming caresses of your fingertips.

Minutes go by, perhaps even hours without a single word spoken between you. Exhaustion is setting in and it doesn’t take long for the ever-changing patterns traced along the muscles of his shoulder to lull him to sleep. Soft snores flutter across your chest and as you run your fingernails lightly over his scalp, sleep coaxes you in as well.

The Sandman had been a little heavy-handed last night, keeping your eyes sealed with sleep. You exist within the realms of your dream and reality, lucid enough to be aware of Josh shifting his weight beside you. You don’t react to the dips of the mattress, letting the luxury cotton sheets swim across your naked skin as he settles between your legs.

You feel his warmth before his lips make contact with the top of your thigh. It’s a careful kiss, testing whether it's enough to wake you. You hum, permitting him to shower your legs with those barely-there kisses, so faint you wonder if you’re imagining them. That’s until he starts to suck his mark on the thin flesh of your inner thigh, dragging you into consciousness once again.

Your hips writhe as a sleepy groan rumbles in your throat. The tempting heat of his breath tickles you, making you spread yourself for him without a second thought.

You peek through your stubborn eyelids, mumbling while your eyes struggle to focus on him, “What are you doing?”

He answers you by licking a stripe up your pussy before sucking your clit into his mouth. The surprise of his pointed tongue and the strong suction jolts you awake. Before your vision has a chance to clear, you react by clamping your eyes shut in response. After hearing your hissed curses, he releases it, giggling against your throbbing skin, “Good morning, baby.”

The sleepy rasp of his voice drowns your self-control. You push out a forceful sigh as you fall back into the down-feather pillow, huffing sarcastically, “That’s one hell of a way to wake up.”

He chuckles to himself and skims his fingertips along your leg, giving you a few more kisses.“I’m sorry, would you like me to stop?”

The thought of him suddenly stopping is almost enough to cause panic in your lust-addled mind. You want it so bad you’re vibrating with anticipation. “Oh fuck, no. Please keep going.”

That cheekiness you’ve become well acquainted with reappears. He coos, close enough that the words flutter across your clit, “Do you need it, baby?”

The pet name has never sounded so sweet. You want to bask in it, clutch onto the way it bounces from his lips with your clenched fists. Your hips lift from the mattress in the blind search for his mouth. You find one of his hands resting on your stomach and grasp it with more strength than you intend. “Oh my god, yes. Just please don’t tease me, Josh.”

You claw at the sheets, wrinkling them by your sides to add emphasis to your plea. He smiles and brings himself even closer to you — less than an inch above you. His eyes fall, and as if he were sharing a secret, he whispers softly, “You like it when I spoil your little clit? Should I be nice to her?”

You respond with a whiny moan and reach for his head buried between your thighs. The tufts of his tangled curls act as reigns between your fingers. You pull him forward by their roots, guiding his mouth back to you. You brace yourself, expecting the same intensity as before, but all you feel is the blooming warmth of his mouth. It blankets you as his tongue pets your clit, lapping across the swollen bud with the slightest pressure. He gives just enough for you to notice the cold metal ball of his piercing teasing you with every roll.

He breathes you in, and licks his lips through a low groan, “Fuck, you taste so good.”

You mumble something, but it's incoherent. You’re too lost in the feeling of his lips sealing around your clit to even bother repeating yourself. He just goes on to create the perfect vacuum with his flattened tongue. He holds it there, babying the most sensitive part of you in the safety of his mouth — as if it was made solely to pleasure you.

It’s decadent — this feeling. Like that extra slice of chocolate cake eaten at some late hour of the night barefoot in your kitchen. It’s rich and heavenly, flooding your brain with oxytocin. He’s unlike any partner you’ve experienced, and it would be borderline insulting to even compare. There’s not a hint of obligation in sight. What he’s giving you is pure adoration. Unabashed, selfless worship. He’s taking his time, not even rushing a single second with you.

He’s making sure you feel. He’s learning your body more and more with each passing minute, maybe knowing you better than you know yourself. Like magic, the slow-building orgasm churns wildly in the depths of your belly. Only for it to be disrupted by him suddenly lifting his head, breaking the seal. “I want us to do something today.”

Your mouth is bone-dry, causing you to stutter, “W-what?”

He shifts his weight between your legs, propping himself on an elbow. Before you can complain out of frustration, he asks nonchalantly, “Where do you want to go?”

Your mind is too busy reeling trying to process the casual tone of his voice to think about an itinerary for the day. He doesn’t seem to mind your pause and waits patiently for an answer with a smile on his face. After a huff and a roll of your eyes, you throw your head back and comb your fingers through your hair. “Fuck. I dunno, Josh. I think I work today.”

His response is mumbled through the kisses to the inside of your leg. “Then call off. You can do that, can’t you?”

The trail of his tongue and the teasing nips of his teeth distract you. Just like that fateful afternoon the day you first met at the shop, he’s able to convince you of anything he desires. “Yeah…yeah. I think so.”

“Good.” His middle finger slips through your folds — rewarding you. He’s playing, exploring the intricate details of your body to see your reactions in real-time. He watches your hips lift off the bed from the feather-light touch, how your chest rises and falls with each panting breath, to the changing expressions on your face. With his hooded eyes completely transfixed between your legs, he asks, “How about we take some edibles and go to the aquarium today?”

Despite the overwhelming urge to close your eyes, you fight to keep them open. He’s breathtaking, so effortlessly beautiful soaking in the filtered morning sun. You doubt the fact he’s real like he’s a still from a movie that’s been locked away in a memory until now. There’s a fear that if you blink, he might disappear and you’ll wake up from this perfect dream.

You’re determined to capture the sight of him — a moment so natural it makes your heartache. The dark shadow of stubble growing back where his mustache draws your attention down to his kissable lips. They’re flushed bright pink, glossy with your wetness.

He swipes his thumb across your clit, watching how your body spasms at the feeling. You hum, finally allowing your eyes to close, “Mmhmm.”

His voice floats across the tides of your conscience, “Are you listening, baby?”

“Yeah,” you answer back through an airy sigh. In reality, you’re not convinced you even heard him correctly. The words evaporated into the air between you. They don’t matter in the slightest, he could suggest anything to you if it meant that he would make you finish.

He kisses your inner thigh before dragging the tip of his tongue higher up. “How does that sound?”

The kitten-licks along the crook of your leg make you choke on a breath, “S-sure.” He giggles at the broken sound, burying his laughter as he searches for your clit. “We can go look at some fish — ah fuck!”

He swirls his tongue, coaxing your orgasm into the refuge that is his mouth. You find his hand gripped across your hip. The contact serves as a substitute for the spoken words that are failing to form, touching praise that tells him you’re right on the cusp of your release. You feel across the dips and contours of his knuckles, tracing along the soft planes of each finger grasped onto the supple flesh of your waist.

If you were aware of your surroundings, you would notice his hips grinding into the mattress for friction knowing he could’ve easily added his fingers and made you climax minutes ago out of impatience. The whine laced within the ragged breath is the only indicator that he’s just as desperate as you. “Are you close, baby?”

You moan loud enough for the sound to pierce through the thin walls of their house. If Jake was here, there’s no question that he heard you. However, the thought of the confrontation he’ll have with you is fleeting. Josh, still hell-bent on maintaining the resemblance of a conversation, asks you, “What do you want to see the most?”

“Josh,” you groan, swallowing harshly to wet your parched tongue.

“Yeah?”

“Please shut up.”

He smiles, pressing the sharp edge of his teeth against your clit. As much as he loves to tease you, the urgency in your tone is enough to flip the last switch. The lazy movements are abandoned, replaced with the rapid flicks of his tongue.

“Holy sh-shit!” You cry out, clawing at his hands that are latched around your legs. Every muscle in your body tightens like an over-spun coil ready to snap any second. You fall past the tipping point as he drenches you in intoxicating bliss like you’ve been submerged in a warm bath.

He brings you down carefully, licking and kissing until your legs start to shake from overstimulation. Peaceful silence falls between you as your breathing calms and your heart rate returns to normal within a few minutes. You expect him to crawl up your body and slip himself inside you, but he doesn’t.

He lifts himself from the bed, throws the duvet off to the side, and stands to his feet. His nakedness sends your eyes to his obviously-hard cock bouncing against his belly as he moves. He catches you staring, and the confusion painted on your face.

You’re completely dumbfounded, as Josh doesn’t strike you as the type to pass on the opportunity for sex. The strange behavior might have made you question things normally, but the certain glint in his eyes tells you something is brewing in that brain of his.

A tiny smirk forms on his face as he makes his way to the dresser, giving you a direct view of his ass. The way jiggles and bounces as he walks is enough to distract you momentarily. You know he’s doing it on purpose, and you hate the way you fall for it. He digs out his clothes from the drawers, tosses them onto the foot of the bed, and starts to get dressed in front of you.

You wish you had your phone to snap a picture of him, even for your own selfish reasons. The collection of vibrant tattoos flowing with the lean muscles of his body deserves to be admired. The dichotomy of wanting to appreciate his beauty while wanting to ravish his cock that’s twitching with the steady beat of his heart wrecks your brain.

Realizing that you’re gawking, he looks up and flashes you a full smile. “So I was thinking we could grab a coffee and some breakfast on the way. My treat.”

Stunned, you watch him pull his boxer briefs up his legs with his cock standing at attention more than ever. Your pussy throbs for him, craving the full feeling he gives you. Unbothered, he grabs himself with a firm hand and tucks it away into the confines of his underwear. The heather-gray fabric does little to conceal it, taunting you with the prominent outline.

“Uh…about that,” You begin just as he slips on a pair of jeans that does nothing but hug his crotch in all the right places. It takes every ounce of energy for you to look away. “I need to stop by my apartment today. I have to check on my cat and get some clothes.”

He pauses with his t-shirt in hand. “You have a cat?” After seeing you nod, he scoffs in disbelief, “How did I not know that?”

You sit up, snorting a laugh as you scoot to the edge of the bed. “I don’t think we’ve spent our time actually getting to know each other.”

“Hmm,” he hums, making his way toward you. He steps between your legs and leans until he’s just about eye level. “I beg to differ. I think I’m getting to know you very well.”

You peer up, hoping not to fall headfirst into those amber irises. “So well in fact that you didn’t even know I had a cat.”

“Hey,” he scolds playfully while tipping your chin up with a finger and lowering himself even farther so his lips hover above yours. “In my defense, I was a little busy getting to know another kitty of yours.”

“You’re a fucking idiot,” you huff, but he catches the back of your neck before you can pull away.

He nips at the spot below your ear, making you suck in a breath.“Utterly moronic.” You whimper at the silken quality of his voice. “Now get dressed, baby.”

You want to tug him close by the collar of his white t-shirt and kiss him. Lost in the sheets until the sun sets again, but he straightens, breaking the hold you have on him.

He finishes getting ready while you dress and gather your belongings around him. You take a chance opening the door to his bedroom to see that Jake’s wide open. He’s nowhere to be found, but you spot your overnight bag sitting on top of his bed, reminding you how things were left off with him.

You walk into his room, taking cautious steps toward the enormous four-post bed. Once you’re a few feet from it, you see a garment wrapped in a plastic covering beside your bag. You recognize it immediately. It’s the dress you wore to your tattoo appointment with Jake, dry-cleaned and laid out neatly for you.

You’re not sure what to make of the gesture. It’s a level of care and detail that you weren’t expecting from him. It leaves you confused more than anything. There’s no note with your things, and a glance at your phone screen shows no messages from him.

You hear Josh’s footsteps approach before he knocks against the door frame and calls into the room, “You ready?”

“Yeah, I think so.” You snatch your bag from the bed and head toward him, leaving the dress behind.

He ushers you out of the front door of the house, locking it behind you once you step to the side. You follow him down the stairs, along the concrete path, and to the driveway where his beloved Camry sits.

Up close, and now that you’re paying close attention to it, you can see the evidence left by the years from a type of tough love that would blur the line of abuse. The car has stood up to the test of time, proudly wearing every scratch along the chipped red paint and every dent punched into its exterior.

As you walk around its battered hood, you note the metallic blue fender piece around the front passenger wheel well. You smile to yourself, as it's not a surprise that he’s the type of person to barely care if there was a fender attached at all.

You imagine each point of damage created by teenage Josh — each mark having its own ridiculous story for him to share with you one day.

You also know that there’s a strong likelihood that some of these could have been made within the week. The thought of it causes a giggle to break free, “How old is this thing?”

He chuckles, manually unlocking the driver-side door with the key. “It’s an ‘03.”

You wait as he slides into his seat, expecting him to hit the unlock button on the inside of his door. He stretches across the passenger seat and pulls up the locking mechanism.

You pop the handle, pleasantly surprised that it opens with ease, and peek inside. A pile of old cassette and CD cases litter the floor of the front seat. Layers of stickers that probably span over the years cover nearly every square inch of the plastic beige dash. The worn upholstery seats have been mended by hand and stitched back together in a rainbow of threads. Upon further inspection, you notice the tiny, circular cigarette burns that haven't earned their own patch. “Don’t you think it’s time for a new car?”

While you throw your bag into the backseat, he turns the key in the ignition. The idling engine emphasizes his answer. “Why? This baby runs perfectly fine.”

You scoff a laugh, “Josh. Your side view mirror is held on by duct tape and a prayer.”

“Hey!” He wags a pointed finger with his quirked brow before patting the center of the dash affectionately. “There’s nothing duct tape can’t fix. It hasn’t failed me yet.”

You glance over at him, watching him lift his ass from the seat so he can empty his pockets.“How much shit in this car is held together by duct tape?”

He bites back a smile, tossing his pack of cigarettes onto the dash, and sets his phone in the center console. After putting the car in reverse, he holds your headrest to look behind him, but his gaze lingers on you. “Do you want the real answer to that?”

“It might be better if I don’t know.”

Music plays through the speakers just low enough that the lack of conversation becomes noticeable. You’ve tried to distract yourself, but the plastic army men superglued to his dash can only keep your pestering thoughts from wandering for so long.

He appears anxious, picking aimlessly at the woven steering wheel cover and bouncing a knee for the last few miles. After stopping at the next red light, he finally reaches for his pack of cigarettes resting on the center of the dash. With his free hand, he flips the top and pulls one out with his lips before tossing it back. Your eyes follow the bent pack of Marlboro Lights sliding into the corner of the windshield. After rolling his window down and using his knees to steer, he lights the cigarette and pulls a heavy drag. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

He glances over at you and takes a steadying breath. “I know I said we should have a serious talk last night, and well, we didn’t do as much talking as we probably should have.”

His anxiety becomes contagious, infecting you in an instant. You stiffen, taking cautious verbal steps, “Okay. What did you want to talk about?”

Noticing your sudden change, he reaches out and gives your knee a reassuring squeeze. “Relax, baby. Everything is okay. I promise.”

“But something is still bothering you.”

You study his expressions and body language. He’s hesitant, thinking over each word carefully. The sigh he releases and the way he’s rubbing his thumb across his bottom lip makes your chest tighten. “I want you to know that I’m not trying to fuck around.” He quickly clears his throat to clarify his thoughts, “I mean, I’m not really looking to hook up with other people. And…and I think I wanted you to know that I’m just about you right now.”

You don’t answer him right away, letting each word replay in your head over and over. It takes a moment to process, deciphering what he’s truly saying past the surface level. You question if this is a conversation about exclusivity and the implications that go with it. He hasn’t looked back at you yet since he’s spoken, keeping his focus locked on the road.

“Josh?”

Your voice breaks his attention long enough for him to glance over at you. “Yeah?”

“Are you trying to say that you want me to stop sleeping with Jake?”

You try not to think about how much the proposition affects you because deep down you know the feeling will act as a stubborn stain on your heart that will never wash out no matter how much you try. You’ve thrown it out into the open and there’s no reeling it back in. It settles between you, more so than the iron weight in the pit of your stomach. You have to acknowledge your hypocrisy when you stood there in their driveway, holding your ground about not wanting to create jealousy between them.

He winces as he takes another drag, pushing out the question through the blown smoke, “Do you want to stop sleeping with Jake?”

You’re quick to snap back, “Don’t dodge my question.”

“I’m not,” he huffs defensively. “Look, I’ll be the first person to admit that our situation is…less than conventional. But I like you. I hope that’s obvious.” A smile breaks through the last part, but the expression stays controlled. “All I’m worried about is you being happy and comfortable. Knowing that you’re having fun, but I don’t have any expectations, okay?”

He waits for your nod before continuing to talk. “If having fun for you is hooking up with me, or with the both of us like we’ve been doing, or even if you just want to be with Jake… that’s okay too.”

Before you can open your mouth to reassure him, he adds, “It will be a bummer, but I’ll accept that.”

The pained flick of his thumb across the filter of his cigarette reveals more of his emotions than his chosen words. His exterior is calm and collected — an undeniable contrast to the outburst in the shop office. Out of the corner of your eye, you see how close you’re getting to your apartment building, and the last thing you want is to leave things off on a bad note. “You know I still want to sleep with you, right?”

His shoulders immediately relax and his face lights up as soon as the words leave your lips. That reserved smile blossoms into a full grin. “I might have had a feeling.”

As much as the sight gives you that fuzzy feeling, there’s still a tinge of embarrassment that you’re not handling this as well as you should be, making you confess, “This is new for me.”

Josh’s hand wraps around your thigh once more. “Me too. But we’ll figure it out.” His fingers and thumb begin to knead small circles into the bare skin. The touch is electric, sparking desire like lightning between your legs. “One last thing though. Can you just tell me you’re mad at me next time? I don’t know if I can handle much more of you fucking him to get back at me.”

Despite ending the last sentence with a laugh, it’s not because he finds it humorous. Guilt resurfaces, revealing your immaturity over the last week. You knew that’s how he felt, but to hear him say it acts like salt to the wound. You play it off, throwing in a touch of sarcasm. “So honest and open communication about my feelings?”

He bites at his lip before giving you that smile of his.“Crazy, I know.”

“I’ll try.”

Josh parks behind your apartment building in your designated space. To your relief, your roommate’s car is missing from its spot, giving you the clear to bring him up without having to deal with an awkward introduction. Before you can unbuckle your seatbelt, he snatches your bag from the backseat and slings it over his shoulder as he makes his way out of the car.

He follows you through the narrow alleyway toward the front door of the building, causing a new, unfamiliar feeling to brew in your chest. In the past, bringing people back to your place has always been a rare thing, especially in broad daylight. You’ve found that you’re more comfortable at their house, coming and going on your terms. Now with him, a half-step behind you, seconds away from your door, is starting to feel like this is developing past the casual hookup phase and you’re not entirely sure where to place that idea in your brain.

You unlock the heavy door and give it a strong push to break the seal of old paint that keeps it stuck within its frame during warmer months. Since it’s an older building, the musty air sticks to your lungs as you ascend the staircase.

“How long have you lived here?” Josh sparks small talk from behind you.

You keep your voice quiet to keep the sound from traveling into the other apartments. “About three years. It’s not quite up to code but the rent is cheap and my landlord is super cool so I can’t complain.”

Josh chuckles, “You know what they say, ‘A little asbestos builds character’.”

You laugh at his joke, stopping on the landing to search for your apartment key on the metal ring. “Can’t be much worse than all the cigarettes you smoke.”

He steps in front of you and blushes, releasing the strained breath he’s been holding in. “Hey, I’m trying to quit.”

You take the next set of stairs while throwing the bratty remark over your shoulder. “Oh? How’s that going by the way?”

Sarcasm seeps into his tone, making him exhale with a dramatic wheeze, “Fantastic. Can’t you tell?”

As soon as you’re standing in front of your door, a sudden wave of anxiety washes over you. This is the first time he’s going to see your place — a part of you that’s remained a mystery to him until now. Accepting that there’s no turning back, you turn the key in the lock, praying that nothing embarrassing has been left in plain sight.

“Well, this is it,” you announce into the empty apartment with open arms.

You drop your keys onto the side table while he walks in and shuts the door behind him. After sliding your bag off his shoulder and resting it on a nearby chair, his eyes scan over the quaint living room. “Wow. It’s quite cozy in here.”

Thankfully, your roommate had kept the place pretty tidy overnight. Crocheted throw pillows are propped up nicely, a folded blanket is draped over the back of the couch, and stacks of books and an unfinished puzzle sit on the vintage oak coffee table. The late morning light casts through the large plate glass windows, giving your family of houseplants their daily dose of sun.

The commotion wakes your sleeping cat, making him lift his head from his spot on the couch and give you both a welcoming chirp. With a childlike wonder, Josh beams with excitement, calling out in a soft voice, “Hey buddy!”

He slowly drops to a squatting position and holds out his hand. “Pspspsps.”

You stand back, pleasantly surprised that Josh can gain his trust so easily. The orange tabby does his post-nap stretch before jumping off the couch with a thud, landing on all four paws. He trots over, causing his low belly to swing with his stride, and rubs his face into Josh’s open palm. “What’s your name?”

Not knowing what his reaction will be, you answer sheepishly, “Tater tot.”

Josh throws his head back and lets out a loud cackle, filling the quiet room with his vibrant energy. “Tater tot. I fucking love that.” He scratches under the cat’s chin, earning himself a purr. “You kind of look like a tater tot, don’t you?”

You move through the living room, placing your stuff down as you reminisce over the distant memory. “I found him by the dumpster at work when he was just a tiny kitten. Poor guy was covered in fleas and so hungry that he ate tater tots that I had with my lunch right out of my hand. And the name just stuck ever since.”

He gives your cat’s rotund frame an affectionate pat. “What a cool dude.”

You linger for a few beats of time until you clear your throat. “I’m gonna go get ready. You okay out here with him?”

He makes himself at home on the lounge chair next to your couch and releases a comfortable sigh, “Take your time, baby. Ol’ Tater and I will catch up.”

You rush back to your bathroom and freshen up as quickly as you can. Not long after you left the twins’ house, you texted Katie about covering your shift this afternoon. Thankfully, she was able to without much of a battle, leaving your day wide open to spend with Josh.

After applying some makeup and doing your hair in a simple style, you repack your overnight bag and look for an outfit to change into. You pick out a simple, linen sundress from your closet that’s going to be comfortable enough for you to walk around in.

Josh doesn’t hear you come back into the living room, and keeps his back turned. In your short absence, he has scooped your cat up into his arms and started rocking him like a newborn baby. He hums a song that’s stuck in his head while pacing around the space, studying the art, little thrifted trinkets, and knick-knacks to the collection of books sitting on the shelf. You watch from the edge of the hallway, noticing how well he seems to fit in here — like he’s meshing seamlessly with your existing life.

The romantic in you pines for a different reality, because at this moment, seeing the peaceful innocence makes you wish that he had asked you out on a proper date the first day you met. That way, you could have gotten to know him under different circumstances. After weeks of dating, you could’ve introduced him to friends, maybe even brought him to meet your nightmare parents.

But the way things are with him seems as though it’s far too good to be true — an exciting fling that’s destined to fizzle out as soon as the summer ends. You’ve learned this lesson before. Don’t get too emotionally invested in a guy like him.

Before getting swept away in the emotions of it like an incoming tide, you interrupt, “I’m shocked he let you pick him up like that. Usually, he hates being held.” Josh is startled by your voice, turning on his heels with the biggest smile on his face. “He must really like you.”

Your beloved cat continues to rub his face across Josh’s defined jaw, purring so loud that you can hear it from across the room. Proud that he’s won his affection, he can’t help but crack a joke, “What can I say…pussies love me.”

You groan with a dramatic roll of your eyes and walk to the door with your bag in hand. Josh laughs from behind you, only to be followed by the sound of Tater Tot’s paws returning to the wood floor. “What? What’d I say?”

You let the smile creep across your lips as you grab your purse and keys. “Sometimes I wonder why I hang out with you at all?”

He hums in thought, standing behind you as he watches you lock the deadbolt. “It could be the big dick and the free weed.”

You scoff and turn to the stairs knowing that he’ll follow. Before you can take the first step, he reaches out and hooks your upper arm in his hand, tugging you close. “Hey.” He abandons the teasing banter, taking on a calm sincerity in his voice. “You look beautiful, baby. Thank you for spending the day with me.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You’re right. Those flowers do look great in your apartment.”

With the weight lifted between you, the drive to the aquarium was far more relaxed than the one on the way to your apartment. Like a road trip planned with your best friend, the miles fly by quicker than you thought. The last hour was spent laughing and playing music from the scattered tapes and CDs strewn across the car.

Josh chooses a parking deck close by, but because of it being in the center of the city, the first three floors are filled. He eventually finds a spot on the last level, kills the engine, and digs around for something in his backseat. He retrieves a small plastic container, pops the lid open, and offers you a red gummy placed in the center of his palm.

You giggle, plucking it from his open hand, “You’re such a bad influence.”

“The peer pressure must be killing you.” He teases, tossing back three into his mouth.

Even though you’ve already started chewing yours, you stare at him in disbelief and snatch the container from him. “How strong are these?”

He chuckles around his own gummies, answering before you have a chance to find it on the label. “They’re only twenty.”

Your eyes widen as you swallow down the THC-infused cherry-flavored juice. “Oh, great.”

He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze and places a sweet kiss on your cheek. “Relax. You’re going to be fine. I got you, baby.”

“I fucking hope so.”

You both make your way through the parking deck and out onto the street. It’s early afternoon, and the summer sun is at its highest point in the sky. Thankfully, the trek to the aquarium is roughly a ten-minute stroll. You follow behind him as he walks up to the ticket counter outside of the building.

“Hello,” Josh greets the employee behind the glass. An older woman looks up from her computer and stares blankly at him. He waits a few seconds for her response, but when she doesn’t, he adds, “Can I get two adult tickets, please?”

You catch her glare before she redirects her attention to her computer. “That’ll be $105.89.”

Josh fishes his wallet out of his back pocket, waving you off when you reach into your purse. “I got it, baby.” He pulls out a credit card and slides it across the metal counter through the opening of the glass window.

The woman's judgemental eyes lock onto his hands pushing the card toward her. You’re confused as to why until you realize that she’s staring at his finger tattoos. A look of disgust contorts her aged features as she reaches for it. You glance over at him, seeing the same friendly expression he’s been wearing despite this woman’s blatant rudeness toward him.

She inspects the card between her fingers and looks up at him. “I need your ID to verify this card.”

You cut in, showing your frustration, “Are you serious? Is that necessary?”

“It’s okay,” He mumbles softly, placating you while handing the employee his driver’s license. He manages to keep his discomfort contained and hidden beneath the surface. Anger ignites and burns like wildfire within your body, but you stay silent as the interaction plays out.

The old woman compares the names on the credit card and license in front of her before finalizing the payment. She reluctantly pushes both back to him, along with the receipt and printed tickets.“You know those things are permanent, young man.”

Josh forces out an awkward laugh as he slides both cards back into his wallet, “I would certainly hope so with how much I paid for them.”

Being in this employee’s presence makes your blood boil, and you can’t fathom spending another second in it. You hook your arm around his and usher him toward the entrance until you’re out of earshot. “What the fuck was that about?”

“What?”

You shuffle into the line and turn to him. “The ticket lady? She was so rude to you, Josh.” He doesn’t answer, but shrugs his shoulders, clearly not matching the same feelings you have about the ordeal. “Do people treat you like that a lot?”

“It happens. Sometimes you can’t change people who think like that.” There’s a hint of defeat in those words, a hidden sadness that he’s trying to mask. The experience knocks you down because you’ve only ever seen the art inked into his skin as beautiful. His brows pull together when he sees your frown and the hurt in your eyes. “What matters is that you think they’re cool, right?”

You blush instantly. “The coolest.”

“Fuck yeah. Now let’s go check out some fish.”

Another employee scans your tickets and points you in the direction of the main lobby. You let Josh take the lead, following the trail of painted blue arrows on the concrete floor to the closest exhibits.

Walking through the open space, the recognizable smell of seawater from the rows of tanks drifts along the air and into your senses. Since it’s the middle of the week, the crowds are smaller — just a few people passing by every couple of minutes.

You find yourselves before this massive tank that wraps around a circular shaped room. The serene ocean hues drench you in its blue light. As you read over the descriptions of the animals in each enclosure on the plaques, the edible you ate in the car starts to take effect on your body. You’re becoming highly aware of Josh standing beside you, and your focus moves to him. He’s taking it all in, admiring life’s simplest and more intricate details captured behind the wall of glass.

The calm silence is making it hard for you to concentrate on the animals. You’re becoming more restless only to feel his fingers brush against yours. It’s a testing touch before they weave tightly between them. It’s not much, but the public display of affection sends your heart racing.

You’ve been questioning whether or not this is a date, or if it’s simply friends hanging out together. Friends that happen to have the wildest sex you’ve ever experienced.

He points to a large fish swimming by, but you don’t catch any of the words he’s saying. The only thing you can focus on is the feeling of his warm fingers squeezing around yours from his excitement.

You stand like this for a while staring at all the sea life, but the way his thumb rubs against your hand keeps distracting you. “Josh?”

“Hmm?” He hums but keeps his gaze on the tank. His hazy eyes sparkle as they dance from fish to fish.

“Do you come here a lot?”

He snorts a breathy laugh, “No. Can you believe that? But I’m glad we did.”

“How come?”

The question finally causes him to break away and look directly at you. You want to kiss him, snuggle up in the comfort of his hoodie, and stay like that for hours. He smiles wide, bringing out the dimple on his left cheek. “I think we needed to get away from the bullshit for a while.”

“The bullshit?”

He lets go of your hand and steps closer to the glass, now a couple of inches away. “Yeah. It’s healthy to step back from all the chaos and connect with nature when you can. Forget our problems for the moment to remember how delicate and beautiful life is. That we are just one facet in the great cosmos.”

You lean in, whispering so others can’t hear, “How high are you?”

He giggles with a sigh, “Pretty high.” You pull him back by a handful of his sweatshirt, making him bump into you. “I’m serious though.”

Even with the closeness, he keeps his touches appropriate. You stretch on your toes and give him a soft peck on his lips. “I bet, but I wanna check out the sharks.”

You look for the shark exhibit, following the path of blue arrows through several escalators and moving walkways. Everything is going well, but the aquarium is far colder than you anticipated, and now you’re cursing at yourself for not bringing along a sweater like Josh.

Your violent shivers are too difficult to hide, and he’s quick to notice. He pulls off his hoodie and hands it over, “Here.”

“Thanks.”

Although the look of it over your sundress isn’t the best fashion statement, it’s the least of your worries. It envelops you like a comforting hug. You nuzzle into it while he looks away, breathing in the fabric that holds his scent — a calming mix of his cologne, and laundry detergent with the faint smell of cigarettes.

A few minutes pass as you navigate your way to see the sharks. He’s fidgety, rubbing up and down the length of his bare arms. He then hugs himself as if to hide the tattoos without much success. You’re undoubtedly high, which only makes you hyper-aware of his uneasiness.

Josh has been nothing but confident since the day you met him. He’s never faltered, acting like the tattoos were simply an extension of him. His restlessness — whether it’s weed-induced paranoia or tucked-away self-esteem issues, affects you greatly.

The behavior is unlike him, and you’re sensitive about it. He holds himself like you’ve stripped him bare and left him completely exposed for judging eyes. You’re not sure what to do other than gently pluck his fingers from his arm that has been pressing into the flesh so hard they’ve created indentations.

Your touch breaks the spell he’s in, making him swap hands with the one that is closest to you. He squeezes your fingers tightly and gives you a grateful smile as he whispers, “Thank you.”

You study the expression on his face, but his bloodshot eyes zero in on your moving lips. “You okay?”

He leads you in with his hand, closing the short distance between you. The kiss is deeper, and richer than previous ones today. Even with the tip of his tongue ghosting across your lips, it doesn’t feel sexual. He eventually pulls away, and happily sighs, “Much better.”

After leaving the aquarium, you must have walked around the city for hours. Hand-in-hand, swept away by each other’s presence. By the time you made it back to the deck, the sun had fully set in the sky. Once nearly full to capacity, the deck remains borderline desolate. A few vehicles are scattered amongst the first few floors, but as you climb to the fourth, you spot Josh’s Camry sitting alone.

Now that the euphoric buzz from your cherry-flavored gummy is starting to settle in your system, the desire to have him is so bad that the hour-long drive seems torturous to think about. Besides the few chaste kisses placed on your cheeks, and the one shared on the escalator, he has yet to kiss you today with the same passion you’re used to.

You’ve been craving those risky touches, the curious grazes of fingertips under the hemline of your dress. You wished for the lewd, sexual comments whispered against your ear when people were around. Those memories of his mouth roaming across your body have been invading your mind ever since you walked out their front door this morning. His undivided attention, the pin-you-against-the-wall kind of attention is what you’ve been wanting all day. You just never would have thought that him on his best behavior would drive you this mad.

If he feels the same way, he’s been hiding it better than you. Unbothered from the casual stroll to the car, the goofy grin plastered across his face, to the way he’s belting out random notes into the open space just to hear them echo back.

After both of you step into the car and get settled, he asks, “Do you wanna go to the bar?”

He pops open the lid of the center console and starts searching for a particular CD to play. As he roots around, you realize that looking at anything other than his lips proves to be a challenge you can’t overcome.

You forget to answer. He’s still rummaging around the junk crammed in the center console, but your silence makes him laugh, “Or should we head back to the house?”

You shift in your seat toward him, whispering, “Josh.”

“What’s up?” His eyes flick up, meeting yours.

While you’re not usually the one to make the first move, giving in to a temptation that’s been gnawing relentlessly for hours never felt so rewarding. Your lips crash against his, abrupt and unrestrained. Your kiss is heady, starving for even the faintest taste. Impatience doesn’t even begin to explain what you’re feeling. You take the initiative by licking into his parted mouth, searching and demanding for what’s been so out of reach.

He meets your tongue with his, greeting you with a matched passion. That subtle sweetness, the crisp bite of mint gum — it cuts out any forethought you might possess in an instant. You know you shouldn’t be doing this, venturing further with him when there’s a possibility that an onlooker can walk right on by. The risk of being caught becomes meaningless, lost in the orange glow of the outside lamps.

The hungry kiss might have been the end of this moment — left with a palmed breast and a few nips of teeth. The whine through a bated breath with the following moan tumbling right into your mouth changes everything. It’s what propels you forward over the console and onto his lap. The crawl to him is less than graceful with your clumsy limbs knocking into everything in your path.

As you struggle to get settled on his legs, he leans back against the headrest with open arms. He watches with a prideful smirk, confidently basking in the knowledge that you were the first to break. You’ve already braced yourself on his shoulders and started to grind your ass over the rough denim in hopes of catching his hard-on. Amused, he tilts his chin up, keeping his lips barely an inch from yours. “Hi.”

Breathless, you scold, “Shut up and kiss me.”

A deep exhale bellows from his chest while his hands knead the flesh of your thighs beneath the bunched-up fabric of your dress. He ignores your request, biting back the lip you so desperately want for yourself. Frustrated, you roll your hips in an attempt to send his open hands closer to your ass.

Your sense of control wavers with the whimper, “Josh, please.”

A curious hum resides in this throat and his fingertips ghost the delicate edge of your thong stretched across your hip. At this point, you would do anything to have him. That gummy from this afternoon fails in comparison to the drug that is him. You bury your face into the warmth of his neck, sucking at the tender skin below his jawline.

He giggles as if the feeling tickles and sends one hand up the length of your back instead of between your legs like you want.“What’s got you so worked up, baby?”

“You,” you mumble, tightening the hold you have on the nape of his neck as if you could somehow bring yourself closer. The tight space of the driver seat confines you, heightening every movement tenfold.

“Me?” The cockiness in his voice reminds you of Jake more than you’d like to admit, but the single word spoken into your temple makes you tremble. Driving yourself further into his groin, you end up clenching around nothing but the memory. “I got you so desperate that you can’t even wait until we got home?”

The hints of his erection, knowing that it’s there but hidden from your grasp destroy every facet of your self-control. He’s right. The thought of waiting for him is truly unbearable. You lean back on his legs, giving yourself the space to reach between you and find the button of his jeans. You’re able to pop it open before his hand clasps around your wrist, stopping you. “Baby, I’m shocked. I didn’t take you for the public sex type.”

“Are we going to fuck or not?” It was supposed to leave your lips with power but hit the air between you as a pathetic plea.

Just like the words acting as the ripcord to his own urges, he tears apart your thong between his hands in a swift pull. After hearing your stunned yelp, he bares his teeth to the vulnerable skin of your throat and lets a laugh flutter across your ear, “Oops.”

He flings your shredded panties somewhere into the backseat and cups the curve of your ass with a firm hand, lifting you enough so he can work himself out of the leg of his jeans. Unlike the teasing banter seconds before, he wastes no time dragging the head of cock through your wetness.

The way his teeth sink into the thin flesh covering your collarbone gives away how badly he wants this as well. After a less-than-gentle pass and in a single thrust, he pushes his entire length inside you.

“Oh fuck!” You cry out, the sound low and guttural. He stretches you and crashes into your cervix before you have a chance to adjust to his size. He keeps himself there, allowing the stinging pain to subside within seconds, replacing it with that addicting full feeling.

If you’re being honest with yourself, you welcome that pain — a reminder of how you’ve been acting lately. It should be no surprise how quickly your body remembers him despite how long it’s been since he’s been buried inside you.

He sighs into the hollow point of your neck, muttering the sweet confession, “I’ve missed this.”

You settle your weight on his lap, only allowing him to rock his hips in the seat. You tighten around him, soaking his cock in your pleasure. “I missed you, too.”

He stops moving to drink you in, kissing and licking a path along your shoulder. “Fuck, I love your pussy so much…best I’ve ever had.”

Your heart skips a beat from the thought alone, but you’re greedy for his praise. You push yourself back with your hands placed on his chest, giving yourself room to see his face. “The best, huh?”

That smug grin reappears while his heavy-lidded eyes drift slowly up to yours. You take in the details of his face, how the shadows accentuate his sharper features. “Yeah…would I lie to you?”

He flusters you, making your line of sight fall from his glazed eyes down to your restless hands. You watch yourself play with the fraying neckline of his t-shirt, asking, “Would you?”

He tips his chin, keeping his focus solely on your lips before bringing his own close enough to whisper, “Never.”

In a matter of seconds, his hands skim across the fabric of your dress to find the thin straps. Hooking them under his thumbs, he slips them down your arms, taking the front of your dress with them. In a frantic need, he yanks the cropped, black t-shirt you’ve been wearing under your dress up over your chest.

Now that it’s freed and exposed, he sucks your naked breast into his mouth and licks a broad stripe across your hardening nipple. You force yourself to look up to check if anyone is walking by, only to see that the windows are beginning to fog from the heat of your shared breaths. They’re clinging to every inch of your skin, causing a sheen of sweat to collect across your furrowed brow. And yet, a chill climbs up the length of your spine from his tongue rolling over your bare tits.

The uncomfortable position is posing a unique challenge for you both. Since both knees are wedged and starting to ache from plastic digging into your flesh, you’re unable to ride him the way you want. Josh, however, doesn’t let the restrictions of the Camry ruin the moment if he can help it. The moans tumbling from your lips act as his cue to wrap his arms around the small of your back, locking you in place.

It should’ve been a warning to you.

Something animalistic suddenly possesses him, shredding any remaining innocence. He snaps his hips up, thrusting into you with a strength you didn’t realize existed within him. He takes on all the work, holding you above him while you’re left to brace yourself in any way you can.

Pornographic sounds — sounds you wouldn’t dare make in the past break free from your chest. He��s thriving off them, knowing that if he was fucking you without these limitations you would be reduced to an even more pathetic, incoherent mess.

He’s not shy about making his own noises. His rumbled growl vibrates between your breasts. Primal grunts are trapped behind his clenched teeth. It could be because he’s out of breath or that he’s closer than he thought, but he starts to slow his pace, shifting to more of a grinding motion.

“Oh my god. You feel so fucking good,” You pant. Half-whines, half-barely recognizable curses fall from your open mouth. “Please, please, please.” You’re rambling, blurting out any broken, strung-together thought you can. “Josh…I… I…fuck—don’t stop. ”

His raspy laugh pushes through strained vocal cords, “I’m listening, baby.”

He tries to move and adjust to get a better position, sending the edge of the steering wheel into your lower back. “Ow!” You hiss, rubbing the spot with your fingers.

“Shit. Sorry, baby.” Although he gives you an apologetic look, you can’t help but giggle at his expense. He returns it, huffing, “Fuck it. Get in the backseat.”

Without more protest than a pained groan, you lift yourself off of his cock and stretch out your weak limbs before clambering over the center console into the backseat. You’re not forced to live with your awkward tumble into the seat for long. He quickly follows, climbing over with far more agility than you.

His twitching, glistening cock pulled out from his unbuttoned jeans, and those sweaty curls sticking to his forehead is a sight you’ll never forget. You watch him as he reaches into the front passenger seat for his sweatshirt. He balls it up and places it under your head as a makeshift pillow.

“Acting like you’ve done this before,” you tease, clutching the golden sun that hangs from his neck.

He laughs, lowering his head with your guiding hand. “I’ve had to get creative a time or two.”

“Such a slut.”

He places a kiss on your lips, mumbling, “Don’t forget…” He breaks away, taking the sloppy kisses along your jaw to your ear, making your stomach flip as if it were an Olympic gymnast. “You were the one that jumped me.”

He kneels on the seat, kicking your open legs with his knee while pushing your dress to your stomach. Taking his cock in his hand, he lets a trail of spit fall into himself. With a few pumps of his fist, he shudders out a heavy breath, “Do you have any idea how hard it was for me not to fuck you this morning?”

He lets the head of his lubed cock slide across your clit. You lift your hips, chasing him. “I wanted you so bad.”

He lines himself with your entrance and glides in effortlessly. The gratification it gives you is instant. He finds a rhythm and braces himself with each hand gripped onto your thighs. “I know, baby. Trust me. I’ve been thinking about you all week… I’m so addicted to you.”

You let him stare, watching how his eyes bounce with your moving tits down to his cock sliding in and out of your cunt. As much as you love it, you need him close. You have to feel his warmth and the weight of his body on top of you, have his scent fill your delirious brain, and have those sounds fan across the shell of your ear.

You find his wrist and tug him to you, gesturing for him to fall forward. He repositions and hitches your leg around his waist while planting his foot on the floor.

He slides an arm beneath you with his other hand gripping onto the cushion for balance. The change in angle makes him feel deeper than before. You hug him, silently pleading with him to stay. A satisfied pur echoes in his throat, transferring the sound to your wet lips pressed against his skin. “You want it, baby?”

You reply with a hushed whimper, hoping that he can hear, “I’m so close.”

He breathes you in and sends his voice directly into your ear. “I can’t wait to fill you up the way you deserve.” You didn’t understand how spoiled you have become until he deprived you of it. So much so that it had turned you into a creature of pure depravity. You clutch onto his damp t-shirt, wrinkling it in your fists across his back.

“Please, Josh. I need it,” you choke out in a pitiful sob.

He comforts you with a reassuring shush, brushing the tacky hair from your temple. “Look at you. So perfect. Begging for my cum like a good girl.”

His cock slips inside your pussy with a taunting drag. He talks to you, peppering the words with a sweep of his lips across your cheek, “You’re gonna be so full of me, swollen and beautiful.” Being vocal with you is nothing new, but tonight he can’t seem to hold himself back. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop.”

You say his name over and over like a mantra.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans through a deliberate roll of his hips that pushes the head of his cock against your g-spot. “If you weren’t on birth control I swear I’d get you pregnant so fucking fast.”

He says it with such conviction making you think that it’s not something he accidentally blurted out in the moment. It shocks you into silence at first. The incredibly slim possibility has never been brought to your attention before now. It’s a thought that should scare the shit out of you, but somehow it doesn’t. If anything, it nearly sends you crashing over the edge.

He lifts his head to look into your eyes, searching for your thoughts within them. “You like that idea? Me filling up your pretty pussy and getting you knocked up?”

You nod and smile at him— albeit a fucked out one. Maybe you’re too afraid to say the full confession, so you only respond with a hum, “Mmhmm.”

He kisses you, slipping his tongue over yours like an expertly-timed dance. A teasing flick of it followed by a nip to your bottom lip transforms you into a puddle beneath him. “Just say the words, sweetheart.”

“I…I…” You start to stammer before eventually stopping yourself. You know that there’s not a chance in hell you’ll be able to come up with anything coherent for him.

He draws the pad of his thumb across your chin while continuing to talk through his languid thrusts, “You’d be breathtaking. Belly round with my baby… those perfect tits of yours filled with milk. Fuck. I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off of you.”

The fantasy he paints for you overrides your mind. You have to look away and blink back the tears clouding your vision. For a second, the only thing you can process is the view of the roof of his old Camry.

“I’m so close to cumming just thinking about it,” he admits, bringing his hand between your legs to find your clit. His lust-drugged fingers slip through your slick in the blind search until you jolt at the feeling. The heat of your building orgasm has been pooling between your legs and now you’re mere seconds away from plummeting right over the cliff. All you can do is accept fate as he circles the bundle of nerves with a gentle pressure.

He traces your favorite patterns while gracing your conscience with that sinful lilt of his, “One word and I’ll give it all to you.” He pushes you to the tipping point by matching the rhythm of his fingers with the glide of his cock. “If it were up to me, baby? I’d have you full and dripping with my cum every fucking day of the week.”

“Please.”

Right as you claw at his flexed shoulder blades and drive him deeper with your locked legs, he gives a final request after speaking your name, “Let me hear you. I deserve that, right?”

He does, and you’re beyond willing to give it all to him — the embarrassing groans ripping through your chest, the pitched whines and the delicate moans that chase them. Your walls flutter around his cock, tightening around him through your orgasm.

“You’re so perfect.” Is his final praise into the tacky skin on your neck. It leaves his lips through a faint whimper as you slowly milk him dry. As the warmth spill into you, he continues to gently fuck you through the waves of your release.

After slowing a stop and carefully withdrawing his softening cock, he breaks the hold you have on him by sitting back on his heels. Looking down at your pussy through drowsy lids, he sweeps his middle finger through your slit and brings them to his mouth. You watch in awe as he passes it over his flattened tongue to lick them clean.

“You look so fucking hot,” he mutters with a ragged breath. Even though the words are crass, stripped of anything remotely poetic, they’re honest. He glances up, sending you a wink. “Better keep all of it in until we get back.”

You wish you could lay in his bed with him, letting the shared high come down peacefully. But reality comes crashing in, reminding you that time is not on your side. He takes a minute to collect his breath and collapses against the backseat, running his fingers through his soaked hair as he pushes out a dramatic sigh, “Well that’s new.”

You haven’t dared to move — not even a single inch from the fear of adding another stain to the cushion beneath you. “So…is that a kink for you?”

He blows a raspberry with a shake of his head, blurting out, “I guess…maybe. Yes? I dunno. Did I freak you out?”

You snort a laugh, “Surprisingly, no.”

He takes a long pause, and you can feel his eyes on you while he tries to decipher your reaction. “Interesting.”

“What?”

He buttons his jeans and plucks the pack of cigarettes from inside the cup holder of the center console. “I just— and don’t take this the wrong way — but can you imagine getting pregnant from this?”

Before you can think about it, quickly adds, “I mean, in my shitty car in a parking deck after we spent the day at an aquarium high off our asses.” You can only stare at him, which does nothing but make him more nervous. Embarrassed, he mumbles around the filter of his cigarette, “Forget I said that,”

You interrupt by extending your hand. “Lemme have one.”

You catch the surprised rise of his brows before he scrambles to light the one hanging from his lip. He then offers it between his fingers, and he watches you take a slow drag and cough out, “Jake would be so furious.”

You both burst out into a fit of laughter, releasing any tension that might have settled between you. Smoke starts filling the car, pressuring you to finally make the move to sit up. He shuffles around, finding another t-shirt from the floor before climbing to the front of the car. Once in the driver’s seat, he lays it out across the passenger seat for you as you make your way over.

You settle while he starts the car, pulling in a second drag now that the window is down. It burns, leaving a pungent taste that trickles down your throat. “You would be a terrible dad by the way.”

He looks out and drums his fingers against the top of the steering wheel. “I think I could hold my own? Teach the little tike a few things.” Silence falls as he drives through the levels of the parking deck. His voice softens with the following sentiment, “You would be an incredible mom though.”

“Really?”

He takes a hand off the wheel and reaches over to rub your shoulder. “No doubt in my mind.”

You could get lost in those words. The thoughts and the emotions that accompany them — they could all bubble up and spill out if you let them. Instead of falling into the depth of that rabbit hole, you choose to add levity like you always do. “Would be one helluva cute kid.”

A wave of attitude is brought to the surface, making him pipe up with a pointed finger. “I’d give you the cutest fucking baby to ever exist.”

You smack his hand down playfully. “Josh, you’re a twin.”

“Yeah, well, I’m the better looking one anyway,” he blows out the sassy remark through a cloudy exhale.

“You know you’d have to quit smoking if you ever became a dad.”

“I know, I know. I gotta quit,” he grumbles, flicking the ash off his cigarette out of the window. He looks over at. you, giving you an affectionate, knowing smile. There’s something in those eyes you can’t quite place, making your heart ache too much to try. “You hungry?”

“Fucking starving.”

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