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oatbrew · 3 years

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a perfect stranger

prompt/summary: a college-aged rosa reluctantly attends a halloween party with her roommates, which goes off course when she ends up getting rescued by a handsome off-duty lieutenant. darius morgan/rosa (mc)

shameless (10k!!) smut written for kinktober featuring the following: age difference, dry humping, thigh riding. additional warnings for harassment (not between the ship), minor d/s dynamics, sexist language, slight impregnation kink

AO3 link

She ought to blame her roommates for this.

“C’mon, girl, no one and I mean no one in their right minds would be studying for midterms on Halloween night of all times.”

“Miss Married to Work” they called her and not all the teasing was exactly warm. She liked her roommates well enough. But outside the automated systems that matched roommates at the beginning of every year, they weren’t the type she’d have chosen to hang out, much less live, with. Still, this was the first time she had resided somewhere outside of her parents’ house. She had spent the first two years of her undergraduate career commuting to save money. But the overbearing silence that resided in the corners of her once comfortable childhood home made staying another year at the empty house unconscionable. At least with roommates, she had an impetus to leave her apartment.

With a sigh, she agreed and let them drag her away to change into something fitting.

Or barely fitting, by their standards.

Thirty minutes into this house party and she could feel the regret churn in her stomach. The noise of the dubstep, the gaggle of people dancing frantically or whooping at each other’s ear, and the general smell of inebriation would have been enough to send her running out. But she’d call herself a coward if she didn’t try to endure for at least an hour.

New experiences and all, she told herself as a pep talk. If you can’t even survive a house party, how can you survive law school?

Interested glances latched onto skin she normally covered on any other day but her roommate had rejected her requests to wear her normal attire.

“How boring would it be if you were the only one there without a costume!”

Still, she couldn’t help but tug at the short hem of this slip of a dress that barely passed for a costume by the excuse of bunny ears they had slapped onto her head almost as an afterthought. She fidgeted when someone brushed too close. But not all the attention she received was as much of a turn-off as she had expected.

Some were creeps overtly leering at the curve of her cleavage but some were appreciative looks from men whom she considered attractive and wouldn’t have minded starting a conversation with. It surprised her to learn that, for all her nervousness, she enjoyed her ability to attract this kind of attention. Her primary weapon of assertion was hard work and intelligence. While she loved beautiful clothing, presenting herself to entice attraction at a purely physical level was a ground she had no anchor on.

A boy around her age wearing pirate garb did a double-take at her as he passed. She bit her lip from smiling, thrilled to do something so completely unexpected and not exactly on script of the proper girl she’d played for most her life.

She wondered what Luke would think if he saw her dressed like this.

Wait. What are you thinking about Luke for? she scolded herself.

But the thought of him was akin to dipping her body in an ice bath. The warmth and excitement that had been tentatively building in her dissipated and left her hollow.

Suddenly, a hand latched onto her arm and she shook it off until she recognized her roommate’s excited face. She could smell a little of the booze on her breath mixed with what she had already imbibed pre-gaming.

“There you are! Why are you huddled by the food table? I thought I lost you for a second. There’s a hot tub outside!”

“I didn’t bring a swimsuit.”

“Who cares? Besides, they’re setting up for beer pong in the yard.”

She pulled her arm back. “Actually, I’m gonna step outside for a quick moment. I need a bit of air.”

Her roommate rolled her eyes. “Ok, sure, whatever. Don’t take too long, all right? I promised to bring another person on my team.”

She knew the dismissive tone wasn’t meant to be unkind but she couldn’t help but wish that someone would ask her genuinely if she was all right.

Feeling the worst kind of company, she pushed through the crowd to exit and landed on the dirty steps of the porch stairs. She supposed she should be more careful of her roommate’s dress. But she didn't. The borrowed stilettos pinched her toes and it didn’t register how much her feet were throbbing until she sat.

Some start of the night, she snarked.

The city was wide awake at this hour, even more so with the holiday festivities. The children had all but dispersed, leaving college kids and adult revelers to populate the streets in their stead. The area was well lit but there were enough pedestrians in all their cheer and inebriation that she felt safe enough to drop her mask.

So it was a true surprise when some random stranger in a cheesy suit passed her perch before pausing and turning back in an exaggerated and drunken swivel. When he sat next to her, dread immediately settled on her shoulders.

Great. Now, this.

“Well, well, what’s a pretty bunny like you looking so sad by all her lonesome doing out here? Shouldn’t you be with your boyfriend this time of night?”

She cooled her nerves. “He’s inside. I should meet back with him actually.”

His lecherous gaze traced a blatant line from her face to her breasts and legs. “You in a rush, bunny? We just met. I’m sure your boyfriend can wait.”

She made to stand and return inside but he followed her with movements that seemed smoother than his inebriation would have warranted, slamming the door closed when she tried to open it.

“Leave me alone,” she ordered, willing her voice not to waver.

He cooed like he thought it was sweet. “Oh, bunny, don’t be like that—”

She didn’t know what insanity possessed him to reach towards her face and stroke it as if it was welcome. But the outrage of not even being able to mope in peace had her body recall the motions she’d practiced hundreds of times during her self-defense classes. She lifted her knee towards the softest part of him and twisted away, using his momentum against him. He yelped, clambering to catch his fall. But, instead, he tripped over his own feet and crashed hard down the porch stairs and onto the ground.

“You fucking bitch! What was that for?” His face blotched red with pulsing anger. He scrambled up, hunched over but still looking threatening as he took a step forward.

“I said, leave me alone.”

Before she could make a run for it inside, she heard the man yelp again in a mixture of alarm and pain. On the sidewalk where he curled around himself, another figure had grabbed the creep’s arm into an angle so sharp that she almost winced in commiseration before remembering that he deserved it.

“Ow, shit, man! Let me go!”

“She asked you to leave." A deep, resonant growl stiffened her spine into attention.

“Yeah, I was going!”

“If you were, why didn’t you leave the first time she asked?”

“I will, okay! I will! Just let go of my arm!”

For a moment, she believed that the other man wouldn’t and would in fact bend it even further back enough to break. He looked tempted for a moment.

“Look,” she found herself saying. “Sir, it’s fine. He was only pestering me. Rest assured, if he tried for more, I would’ve aimed for his eyes next.”

“Hey!”

Her rescuer ignored the sputtering man at his heels, his eyes studying her. He must have registered something on her face that caused him to relent and let the bastard go.

"Now, get out of here before I have you arrested,” he said quietly, lethally.

He scrambled to his feet. “C’mon, it’s not like I was doing anything she wasn’t asking for!”

“You wanna try that shit with me again?”

The low threat of violence and authority in his voice seemed to wake the creep because he launched off. They watched as he disappeared around the corner of the block as quickly as he appeared.

Her rescuer waited to see if the other man would return before he reverted his attention towards her flustered face. The adrenaline of the situation seeped away, leaving her locked muscles to sag in its wake. She could only stare blankly at the stranger in consideration.

He had tousled brown hair and a hard jaw that seemed to soften as he appraised her. Dark circles hung under his eyes and he held a mouth that seemed used to frowning, faint wrinkles accompanying its corners. He looked like someone you didn’t want to mess with, which explained why his quarry was so quick to flee. The leather jacket casually slung on his shoulder, the tattoos, and the motorcycle parked behind him only added to the warning.

But the look in his eyes was the complete opposite. She’d never seen eyes that golden or that warm for that matter.

“Are you all right, Miss?” She realized that he was repeating his words because she’d missed the first time.

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah? I can get someone here from the station if you want to report him.”

“No. No, that’s not necessary.”

“You’re certain?”

“I...I had it under control.”

“I’m sure you did. But that would’ve been unpleasant for anyone to go through.”

“Nothing worse than what I’ve already faced this week,” was what her mind meant for her mouth to say. But something about the gentleness in his tone or those golden eyes absurdly, horribly caused her lip to wobble.

Oh, no.

“Miss?” He stepped closer and she burst into tears.

“I’m sorry! It’s just…” Stop! Stop speaking now. “It’s not the fact that he tried to lay a hand on me. It’s about how I’ve really been trying to push myself to go out of my comfort zone this week and the second I decided that I wasn’t going to worry and that I deserve to enjoy myself, I find some way to suck the fun out of everything. And even better, some pervert decides I’d be his perfect target so he’s just the cherry on the top of this horrible sundae of a situation. And these clothes aren’t even mine and if I had the choice, I would’ve dressed up like Jett from Turbo Warriors instead and worn shorter heels because my feet are killing me and I’ve had a pretty stressful week overall, which is why I went to this stupid party in the first place so I could blow off some steam. And my friends abandoned me to play beer pong and you’re the first kind face I’ve seen all night who hasn't wanted anything from me and the fact that you just looked after me even though you don’t know me and I—”

“Miss.” His soft voice cut through the bubble of hysteria that seemed to be growing the more she babbled. She stopped immediately, sniffling, and realized that he was handing her a handkerchief.

“Do you need me to call someone?”

She thought of the fact that there’d be no one to call. None who could come immediately anyway. She sat back on the porch steps in defeat.

“No.”

“How about a ride or money home?”

“No.”

He paused and bent his knees so they were level. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Stupidly, her throat tightened. She shook her head, afraid to meet his eyes.

He measured her for another moment before he draped his leather jacket around her shoulders. She didn’t even realize she’d been shivering.

“How much are your feet killing you?”

“A lot,” she mumbled.

In her periphery, she watched as he rummaged through the compartment at the back of his motorcycle before returning with flip flops that were obviously his size.

“Oh, I couldn’t.”

“Don’t. I keep a spare handy whenever I change out of work clothes. It’s no bother.”

She unstrapped the stilettos, relief immediately settling between her toes.

“Thank you,” she said shyly.

“Anyway, you think your feet can handle two blocks?”

“Y-Yes?”

“All right. Then, follow me.” He started walking away and only paused when he realized she wasn’t moving.

“Um.” She wiped frantically at her face. “Where are we going?”

“Just a restaurant I know nearby. You look like you could use a pick-me-up. Some water maybe. Unless you’d rather not? I’d understand if you’re—”

She caught up to him, shoes in hand, and finished dabbing her face. “I’d love a coffee actually.”

Joe’s was a quaint diner at the corner of Lowood and Hilltop, an area that seemed to sit in the middle of more old-fashioned brownstones and the newer condos of the college neighborhood that bordered the university. The enclave affected an air of a past era, a pocket that had turned to vintage, old, and turned all the way back into being retro and fashionable again.

But mostly it was quiet. Homey, even.

The waitress (Jane, according to her name tag) came by with their drinks, her tired face already drawn by the lateness of the hour. She felt for the poor woman.

“Thank you.” She smiled before she turned to her companion, who was blowing softly on his cup. “I thought you’d be getting coffee.”

“I don’t actually drink caffeine. Not to my taste.”

She regarded him and his attire. Plain white t-shirt and biker jeans with a hint of a tattoo peeking behind his shirt collar and another set wrapping around both arms. She wanted to look closer to discern the design and possible meanings but that would mean ogling him. He hefted the muscles of a laborer who earned his physique through everyday work rather than a fitness devotee who shaped their body in the gym. She considered returning his jacket but she felt too cold without it.

“If I’m being honest, from first glance alone, I didn’t peg you as a chamomile type,” she joked, trying to harness some dignity back after her outburst moments ago.

“Well, I didn’t peg you as a black coffee type.”

“Sugar makes me distracted. Whenever I get caffeine, I like it plain. I need all the focus I can get when I’m pulling all-nighters.”

“You do that often? Can’t be healthy for someone still growing.” She didn’t know him well to recognize if it was true but it sounded almost as if he was teasing her.

“I’m 20. My prefrontal cortex will forgive me once I pass my bar exam.”

“You gunning to be a lawyer?”

“Yeah.”

He smiled faintly and she couldn’t help but think how it made him doubly attractive. “Makes sense. The way you were dressing down that asshole makes me believe you’d do well in court.”

For some reason, she felt immense relief at his words. As if he had validated a part of her that bore an insecurity she didn’t even know she’d been carrying.

“Really?”

He nodded. “I knew then that you could handle yourself but I’m glad that he didn’t get the opportunity to push that to the test.”

“My, um, friend and I took martial arts as a kid. He took it more seriously than me but I kept at it because I had a feeling I’d need some form of self-defense in the future.”

His face hardened with an unhappy expression. “I’m sorry you have to deal with things like that.”

“Well, yes, part of it was because I’m a woman. But the other part was because when I realized I wanted to be a lawyer, I knew I needed some way to protect myself.”

“You’ve thought this through.”

She took a sip of her coffee, flinching a little when it scalded her tongue. She always got a little too excited whenever she had someone willing to hear her thought trains out.

“You know that newcomer attorney on the news lately? Artem Wing?”

His lips curved with amusement. “I’m familiar.”

“I want to be exactly like him. It always inspired me how much he was already doing despite how young he was. By the time he was my age, he was already at the top of his class in law school. But sadly I’m not a genius so I have to go through the whole thing slowly the old-fashioned way.”

“Nothing wrong with a little old-fashionedness.”

“Of course. It’s just,” she faltered, tried to get her thoughts together. “The friend I mentioned who I took classes with—he's something of a genius, too. He moved to the capital to attend NCU because he got admitted early. And while I’m proud of him, it also makes me feel like I could be doing more. His efforts push me to keep working harder.”

“Careful though that you don’t push yourself too much.”

She recalled the overwhelming stress of her workload this past week and shrugged. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

He chuckled a little as if realizing that perhaps he’d leaned too hard as a nag. “It’s admirable, how much energy the youth have.”

She narrowed her eyes. “How old are you exactly?”

“33.”

“That’s hardly old,” she scoffed.

“Trust me. You think the aches start when you’re middle-aged? No, it starts in your 30s. Wake up with your back aching for no damn reason and it doesn’t matter the number, you’ll start feeling old regardless.”

“Really?” She couldn’t help but laugh that this tough-looking guy could complain about something so banal.

“I’m not kidding. Anyway, I gotta give you something to look forward to in a decade.”

“Maybe in a decade, I’ll be just like Artem Wing.”

“Maybe by then, you’ll be even better.” He said it so simply, as if he was stating an honest fact as the weather. She fell silent for a moment in wonder at how he could hold so much faith in a total stranger.

She looked at her cup shyly. “Thank you. I actually really needed to hear something like that.”

“Sounds like you’ve had a day. Maybe even a week,” he observed. “If I remember correctly, you said that your friends weren’t there to watch over you.”

“It sounds worse when I put it like that. My roommates are friendly enough but we’re not close. I don’t normally go to parties with them so I didn’t really know what to expect.”

“Not an excuse for them to abandon you.”

It heartened her that he would immediately go to her defense. “I only meant to step out for a second to get some air. It was just…”

She looked up, meeting his patient expression and she could no longer help but be openly frank. “It’s just been lonely. My parents and my friend have been gone for a while. And I've taken for granted having someone like them live with me. It’s not the same now. For example, I have this habit of leaving out Post-It notes on the fridge or my roommate’s books with, y'know, silly little platitudes. ‘Have a good day,’ ‘Take it easy,’ ‘Don’t forget to drink water,’—that kind of thing. That’s the kind of comfort and affection I’d share with my loved ones before. And my roommates don’t really understand it. And I’m not saying I’m the type of person who expects to be best friends with everybody. I get that maybe they vibe at a different frequency than me and I can accept that. But when who you are works best with certain people and then suddenly, they’re no longer there… I guess what I’m saying is that it’s hard to feel comfortable being in your own skin sometimes by yourself. And it's even harder to step outside and take risks when no one’s there to catch your fall.”

She sighed, rubbing her eyes before realizing too late that she was worsening her already messy makeup. She must look like a raccoon to him right now. How perfect. What a sad, pathetic portrait she must have painted for this poor man.

But instead of derision she only heard his gentle chuckle. “I get that. I pretty much live alone, which suits me well enough most of the time. But…”

She waited, earnest with her patience because he had afforded her the same.

“But sometimes when I want to complain about work or if I’m reading something funny and I want to share it with someone, it’s hard when you don’t have that waiting for you at home.”

“I’m sure your friends and family would love to hear from a book you think is funny,” she ventured since she was operating with little information.

“Oh, I’m sure the guys at work would enjoy that to an extent. But I’m talking about what you said: this difference between the people you can have fun with and the people you can live with. If you’re lucky, your loved ones can be both but that’s not always the case.”

She knew what he meant. There were people you could be friendly with but only a few that you could share your truest self with. The kind of people who were in some ways inevitable because you could see your place with them at every stage of your lives. She knew that Luke and her parents would return and it was that fact that kept her from complaining or grieving their absence. But in doing so, she had kept herself from admitting how terribly lonely she was and it had backfired on her tonight.

But as she looked at her companion and considered the turn of events that landed her here with him, perhaps not.

In some ironic way, she felt her problems shrink in the face of his. She wondered if he had people like that in his life. How terrible it’d be if a man who would keep a lonely stranger company wouldn’t have someone to return the favor when he went home. She’d noticed him mention his work friends but no allusion to a family.

Her brain struggled for words, something comforting without sounding pitiful or trite. But before she could piece them out, she heard him chuckle again with derision that seemed self-directed.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to unload that on you. That was pretty odd, I’ll admit.”

“No! I-I’m happy that you told me. Not that I’m happy about what you said but that you would share that with me. It made me feel better in a way. Not that your loneliness makes me feel better, that’s not what I’m—actually, forget everything I said—”

“No, you don’t have to explain. I get you,” he said, amusement returning. Her nerves settled and for some unfathomable reason, seeing his warm eyes and his easy expression, she really believed that he did.

This stranger really did get her.

She wanted to laugh a little as they continued to drink in perfect silence. For the first time since her parents left, she’d met another person whose quiet she could be comfortable with.

Jane’s reappearance broke the peace when she returned with the check, which he insisted on paying. The dim realization that they’d have to separate soon cooled the warmth of his jacket.

She clenched her teeth from shivering as they stepped out into the cold autumn air and walked back to his motorcycle.

“So... Jett from Turbo Warriors, huh?” he broached, breaking her out of her thoughts.

“Huh?”

“You said that if you had the choice, you’d dress like Jett from Turbo Warriors.”

She blushed but her chest felt easy. “Yeah. I’m a huge fan actually.”

It was hardly the most embarrassing thing to admit that she was such a nerd over a children’s cartoon, especially after everything else she said. Something about the spell they created between them made it easy to confess such things.

As if he felt it too, he shrugged. “More of an Ancient Ranger man myself.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at that. “What?”

“Yeah. Never got the appeal of people fighting in spacesuits.”

“Oh, as if Ancient Ranger isn’t just a fantasy retread of Turbo Warriors.”

“In case you didn’t know, 'young one,' Ancient Ranger was a comic book series first before Turbo Warriors even released. Besides, Turbo hasn’t made a good episode since the original series ended.”

She took childish delight in mocking him. “Ahhh, I see. You’re one of those purist old farts.”

“And you’re a reboot heretic.”

“Only a true fan would stay faithful.”

“Only someone with no taste would think the reboot is any good.”

They both looked at each other and laughed. It was nice to have such a silly conversation with no real stakes in it.

She clutched his jacket tighter as they approached the townhouse, which hadn’t faltered in its noise and excitement. She checked her phone and realized with a little sadness that her roommates hadn’t thought to call or text her in concern. Normally, she’d let it fester but tonight the feeling was only a twinge that faded in a second. While she fiddled with her phone, she watched from the corner of her eye as he lingered by his motorcycle. He was apparently trying to look as busy as she was.

She found that she didn’t want to give up his jacket so easily.

“Hey.”

He arched an eyebrow. “What?”

“You have any other plans tonight?”

He looked a little out of place in her apartment, she had to admit.

But there was something about his hulking figure perusing her bookshelf in her tiny bedroom that made both her chest and her thighs clench.

“Dynasty Fate VII?” he tipped the plastic case of the video game with sardonic warmth. “This game hasn’t even been localized yet.”

She shrugged. “Would it be nerdy of me to say that I couldn’t wait to play the game so I just bought the foreign version?”

“Incredibly nerdy. Don’t tell me you go to forums scouring for fan translations because you’re impatient?”

“Only a fellow nerd would know that.”

He chuckled before glaring at her with mock seriousness. “Is this why you brought me up here? To make fun of the old guy?”

“You’re hardly old. And no, that’s not the only reason why.” She reached behind a stack of law reference books and took out a disc case that was still wrapped in its packaging.

“Are you serious?” he burst out with a little laugh when he read the title.

“I know. This took me a whole day of fighting and outbidding a little old lady online to win it.”

It was the Director’s Edition of the original Turbo Warriors series, which was the Holy Grail for collectors. It featured commentary from the series creator, a few bits of which were online. But none featured the full track. When she explained it to her roommates, they indulged her well enough. But looking at his face, she knew he’d be the one to fully appreciate what this was.

“I hope you went gentle on her.”

“Nope. Showed her no mercy. Anyway, we could watch in the living room.” She paused. “But I also have a laptop and we can watch on my bed if you like.”

He took a moment to reply. “Living room sounds good.”

She nodded, swallowing her dismay when he left. She considered her closet before changing her mind and following him out with the disc. He had settled on the lumpy sofa, looking quite at home.

“You don’t want to change?” he asked when she had set up the TV and sat a safe distance away from him.

“I...like wearing your jacket. It’s warm.” Plus, if she changed to her pajamas, she didn’t know if her allure would remain.

“Not that I blame you. It’s my favorite thing to wear any time I’m on my bike.”

“So no chance of me keeping it as a souvenir?”

He smiled lazily. “No chance at all.”

“Not even if I paid you?” she teased.

“Not even then.”

“C’mon...is it because you don’t trust me?”

“That’s not it.”

“Maybe it’s just because you don’t like Turbo reboot fans and have a vendetta against us.”

His smile widened enough that he looked much, much younger. “Liking you isn’t the problem.”

“It isn’t?”

“I actually like you a little more than is good for either of us.”

She held her breath. Because, no, she didn’t mistake the tattered edge in his voice when he looked away, his eyes fixating on the screen. The opening intro was halfway through but for the life of her, it couldn’t keep her attention long enough.

“Is that a bad thing?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he cleared his throat. “You know, when you asked me to come up, I really should’ve said no.”

Disappointment flooded her, the heat of the moment gone in an instant. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pressure you.”

“It’s not that. I wanted to decline for your sake. I know how it can look to your neighbors inviting an older guy into your place at midnight of all times.”

“You're worried about my reputation?”

“I know it’s no one’s business what you do but I don’t want to cause you trouble.”

“You’re not. You’ve done nothing but bring me the opposite of trouble since we met. I didn’t...it just felt important to me that we weren’t alone tonight.”

He didn’t reply to that either though he did seem to contemplate her answer deeply as they watched the familiar first scene of the episode. The room fell silent but her mind was buzzing; she could hardly pretend to pay attention. She snuck a peek and saw him focused on the screen. Her nerve failed. She didn’t want to distract him, but surely she wasn’t the only one imagining that this silence wasn’t comfortable. It was almost as if they were on the precipice of doing something impulsively stupid. Reckless and dangerous, even, and it was only a matter of who would break and commit first.

When the main character nearly died during the infamous air bike chase scene, she couldn’t keep up the impasse.

“Is it like that every time?”

He blinked. “What is?”

“Riding a motorcycle.”

“You liked it?” His mouth quirked, pleased.

She nodded. “It felt like I was somehow flying and about to fall off the seat the entire ride.”

“You wouldn't have."

"I know. You wouldn’t have let me so I wasn’t worried.”

His amused voice softened into seriousness. “No, I definitely wouldn’t have. Still, I didn’t think you’d be such an adrenaline junkie.”

“Well, sometimes I think it’s important to do things that scare you.”

That dangerous, weighted silence wedged between them again. When he cast a sideways glance at her, his voice was as low as she’d ever heard it. “Do I scare you?”

She could only be honest and wondered how her own voice turned so husky. “Only in the best way.”

They stared at each other, not even bothering the pretense anymore. She didn’t know who came forward first. She didn't know whether it was the heated look he’d given her or the throaty want in her voice that triggered it. But somehow her hands clutched tight on his shirt and his had taken off his jacket from her and found residence on the small of her back.

He tasted like tea. Bitter, but soft.

She wanted more.

But before she could truly lose herself, he broke off as he leaned away, breathing heavily.

No, no, come back. You're too far.

“We shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

He shook his head. “You’re young.”

“And?”

“Have you even done this before?”

She fidgeted but kept her eyes firm. “No. But that hardly matters as long as we’re honest throughout.”

“That’s not the issue.”

“Then enlighten me.”

“You’re a sweet girl. A kind girl. You deserve to be taken out to some nice restaurant on a proper date, be courted, and brought roses. Not this. Whatever this is.”

She felt proper irritation at that. “Funny how you seem to know more than me about what I’m like and what I want.”

“That’s not what I meant. I just don’t want you to do anything that you might regret. Hell, I wish I could give you the flowers and the dinner. But you’re not even out of college yet. You have more time to find all that out yourself and do things at your own pace. You don’t deserve to have your first time taken by an old bastard like me.”

“Old by whose standards? Anyway, I don’t care. None of that matters. Virginity’s fake anyways.”

He shook his head as if switching tactics. “A little while ago, some pervert harassed and nearly attacked you. I don’t think you’re in the right frame of mind to be making decisions like this.”

Frustration steeled her resolve. There was a reason why she did so well in debate class.

“A little while ago, I had plans to have dumb, mindless fun, which is something I never do. And I told myself that if I ended up fooling around with someone I wanted enough to do it with tonight, then I’d be ready for it. I’ve spent 20 years having people think that I’m a proper girl, whatever that’s supposed to mean. And for once, I’d like to mess around and be my age and not have it be this significant thing that I have to do properly. I’m not expecting anything except for us to enjoy ourselves. I’m not expecting romance. And I’m not expecting you to give me special treatment like I’m some porcelain doll. So, I’m asking you, as respectfully as I can: would you like to get off with me or not because if you don’t, then we can just part ways as friends now and I can finish myself off with my vibrator when you leave, no harm done.”

For the first time tonight, he looked genuinely taken aback like she had pulled the rug from underneath his feet and thrown a situation onto him that he didn’t know how to handle. But he seemed to collect his wits quickly and she envied him a little for how practiced he was at being unflappable.

“You’ve thought about this a lot.”

“Just because I haven’t had sex before doesn’t mean I don’t know what my body wants or likes.”

He looked at her like she said something completely unintelligible. She waited for him to agree or not but when he remained mute, she moved back, uncertainty unsettling her initial daring.

“Ok, look, as I said, if you’re unwilling, we can just—”

Without warning, he grabbed her by the waist and she landed roughly but perfectly onto the center of his lap. Her hands grasped his chest by instinct to brace her weight. Even caught in the sudden whiplash of confusion, the reality of the situation sunk into her toes.

The gentle but very real rise and fall of his chest was no fantasy she could conjure. He was solid underneath her, all flesh and muscle and sweat. A man much older who had seen more, known more, and who was looking at her with a hunger of someone who knew exactly what he wanted and exactly what he was doing. This was completely uncharted waters. Her nerves fluttered her pulse to a stutter but never had she felt so awake and conscious of her own heartbeat until now.

Her bravado swirled with her apprehension so she cleared her throat and kept her attention fixed onto the gold of his irises, which seemed to darken even more as they watched her tongue lick her lips. He smelled amazing, a more potent form hinted by his jacket, some masculine kind of sweat or cologne or something and she was sorely tempted to sniff his neck before realizing how weird that would be.

“So...you’re interested?”

He pressed her down onto his lap as a gesture. “What do you think?”

She licked her lips again and for a moment, he looked frustrated enough that she almost thought he’d lick it for her.

“How...how should we start?”

“I’ll follow your lead. This is your show.”

“Um. I know it seemed like I had a whole step-by-step plan coming onto this but it’s a little different fantasizing about it, watching two bad actors onscreen pretend to enjoy it, and then actually having to do it for yourself...”

His surprised laugh was a slow, rich, rolling thing and she shivered at how close she was that she could feel the vibrations of it on her skin.

“I got you. Well, you say you know what your body wants. What is it telling you?”

His study of her was one of immeasurable patience like he really intended to figure things out with her for as long as it took.

“It wants you to touch it,” she whispered, honesty softening her voice to a lower pitch.

“Show me where.”

Her left hand took his right one and slowly ushered it to her breasts. His other hand flirted with the zipper at the side of her dress before he pulled it down, letting the fabric free to pool around her waist. Once he’d unhooked her bra one-handed with a quick snap (which was attractive in its own right), she was free for him to study. She’d never been topless in front of a man before, someone she only just met no less. And his appreciative glance kept her from indulging the impulse to cover her chest. Tethered to the motion of pleasuring herself with both their hands, she continued to direct him in the way she knew would incite the most arousal.

“This all right?” he murmured, so focused on what he was doing that she almost giggled at how adorable it was that he seemed intent on getting it right.

She beckoned him to squeeze harder and when he obeyed her orders, she whispered in his ear almost like a reward. “Sometimes when I’m really into it, I like to twist my nipples, too.”

It was fascinating how she could feel him harden even more underneath her in real-time. But he kept his focus on his task like an obedient gentleman. He flicked a thumb at her nipple, fascinated by how it also hardened under his touch.

“Like that?”

She nodded fervently, hissing when he pinched it between his fingers.

“You can tell me to stop any time.”

“Keep going.”

He hummed. She could feel him growing excited the louder she whined when he flicked her nipple again. “What else, sweetheart?”

“Lick me.”

“Where?”

“Wherever you like.”

He didn't even give it a thought before he settled for tasting a strip down the line between her breasts. She gasped.

“Been wanting to do that all night.”

“Really?”

“Tried not to think about it. It’s hardly proper.”

“To hell with being proper.”

She pressed her lips against his, and it would’ve been almost sweet (romantic even, but she banished that) if he wasn’t also playing with her nipples simultaneously. The sensation made her wild enough that she barely registered when he was leaning away from her frenzy.

“Slow, baby. Gentle,” he murmured with a chuckle. And he stole her apology away when he bent towards her again. Her embarrassment of her inexperience fled as they matched each other's pace, moving her lips more in tandem with his. It was an indulgence how he seemed intent on kissing her like that was all he planned to do for the rest of the night. Feeling greedy but a little more tempered, she opened her mouth a little to prod her tongue on his lips and his response was immediate, wet, warm.

Hot.

It was the hottest thing she’d ever done. The sudden upsurge of tension emboldened her hips to start rocking against him, mimicking the strokes of his tongue, imagining with a little carnal thrill whether that'd be the pace they’d be setting for later. His stubble rubbed roughly against her chin deliciously and it made her seek an even rougher kind of friction. Her hips instinctually arranged themselves to better position the wet spot of her underwear with the bulge of his pants. Every time they made contact, her mind slipped into incoherence a little bit more.

They played with each other for a while, his mouth sucking her tongue like he wanted to learn exactly what she tasted like before they separated to latch onto unoccupied skin, necking like a couple of teenagers. His musk was stronger behind his ear and she wished she could roll around in it so she could smell like him all the time. She nibbled hard at the side of his neck, her hands winding through his hair, wondering with delight if she’d leave a little bit of herself on him for tomorrow. He must have been thinking the same as he seemed intent on leaving as many hickeys on her that he could. She vaguely realized that she had slid from his lap to his thigh and the hard muscle underneath her was just another opportunity she knew she could exploit. She freed her neck from his attention and his head followed by instinct, growling when she leaned away from him. Her hands propped themselves onto his shoulders and she couldn’t help but smirk at his frustration.

“I bet I could get off just by rubbing myself on your leg alone.”

The frustration ebbed into intrigued desire and he matched her grin. “Yeah? Show me.”

She pushed the cover of her underwear to the side of her pussy and swore she could feel him twitching at the glimpse of her completely bare. Without preamble, she started to grind on his leg, the texture of his pants causing some friction. But it was the groove of the pocket that rubbed her clit just the right way.

“Oh, yes!” she gasped. She tried it again. And again.

She could faintly register how he egged her on. “Fuck, that’s it. That’s it, baby. Make a mess on me.”

He kept his hands on her waist so she wouldn’t fall over as they both watched, spellbound by how fluidly she seemed to bear down on him. At her wetness that was seeping into the fabric of his pants. She wondered if it would stain, wondered if it’d still be there even after he washed it. She wondered if he’d keep it regardless.

Her movements turned shameless as she rutted onto him like a bitch in heat, her fingers making quick work to assist. But pleasurable as it was, it wasn’t enough to bring her to completion. As if sensing her frustration at being edged so closely, his hands gripped her thighs as he flipped them onto the couch and replaced her fingers with his own. They were callused, rough, and exactly what she needed.

One hot lick on her clit and she was screaming. Her sudden orgasm dragged down her body in waves and he held her thighs through it all, mercilessly dragging his tongue up and down her slit while his thumb rubbed her little circle of nerves in tandem.

She’d feel sorrier that her hand had found its way to his hair again. But her grip seemed to make him groan in pleasure, which suggested that he liked a little bit of that pain. When she came down, he was kissing the skin of her inner thighs, pupils blown black and hazy with lust.

“What...what else did you think of doing to me tonight?” she asked, out of breath.

He didn’t seem to have the patience to play coy. “I was thinking of fucking you with my cock until you scream like that again.”

She felt herself practically flood from the nonchalant heat in his voice alone. They wasted no time as she helped him out of his shirt and pants. When he stepped out of his briefs and threw it carelessly behind him, she simply had to take a moment and stare. His arousal practically twitched and while she’d never imagined giving oral in her fantasies, she wondered a little how easily she seemed to salivate as she practically panted over him.

“I want you inside of me,” she could only say as she dumped all the contents of her purse onto the coffee table. She feverishly grabbed one of the condoms she’d saved as a wish earlier that night.

“You have me.” He helped her slide the rubber onto him, grunting a little when her knuckles grazed the side of his shaft. For a second, uncertainty stilled her movements and she wavered as she sat back on his now naked thigh.

“What do you need, baby?” he asked gently.

“I need a little help, um, positioning myself onto you.”

“Come here.” He beckoned her to hover above him, bracing herself again on his shoulders. She bit her lip when she felt him circle the tip of his cock onto her slit before it poked through her opening. She felt herself stretch, stretch, before—

“Wait. Stop.”

He stilled.

“What’s wrong?” Concern broke through the lust on his face.

“You’re just...you’re much bigger than my vibrator, that’s all.” She tried to play it off with a laugh but her breath shook. She tamped down her panic when his concern translated into him actually urging her to her feet and taking off the condom.

Oh God, was he done with her? Had he given up?

“No, no, I didn’t want to stop. I’m sorry. Let’s try again.”

“Don’t be. I should’ve warmed you up better.” He paused. “Now that I think about it, go get your vibrator.”

“What?”

“I have an idea.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I don’t want us to force it if you’re not ready yet. So go get your vibrator and teach me how you fuck yourself.”

Something must have connected in the synapses of her brain because she hurried to her room, uncaring of her nakedness or that she must have looked so silly rummaging underneath her bed for her special box. She almost jumped when she spotted him by the doorway.

Self-consciousness warred with her urgency as she parsed through the contents, some of it scattering on her comforter when she took out the case she kept her toys in.

“What’s this?”

She almost groaned when she saw that he’d taken the tied pile of cards that had drifted on the side of her bed.

“Um. Postcards from sleep-away camp when I was little. They’re affirmations campers write to each other on the last day of camp,” she babbled distractedly as she cleared away the other contents. “You’re meant to write nice stuff about the friends you made while you were there and everyone gets to keep the cards others have written for them. It’s…meant to affirm the best qualities that people see in you.”

“You make the best smores,” he read, his eyes crinkling with humor. “There are a lot of these. You must have had a lot of friends.”

“I was a nice girl,” she said, letting out a little giggle when he took her vibrator from her.

“You keep your sex toys with your childhood postcards?” He raised an eyebrow at the other paraphernalia she kept secretly in her little chest.

“I didn’t have anywhere else to put it,” she said, unable to help her defensive petulance.

He shook his head, his eyes softening with something almost like fondness. “You are just—”

“Just what?”

“Nothing. I think I really do get you now.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re right. You’re not a doll. You don’t need to be handled with kid gloves. And you’re certainly not the nice little girl who these postcards are writing about.”

She felt her breath shudder. She had never felt more naked, physically or otherwise. “I can be nice. I can be good, even. But sometimes I don’t want to be.”

“You've been telling me all night, haven’t you? But I don’t think I’ve been hearing it until now.” He swept the rest of the items off her bed and turned on the toy. The pink silicon buzzed to life and the way she clenched at the sound was practically a Pavlovian response.

He handed her the toy. “Tell me again what you've really been asking for.”

She licked her lips in excitement. “I...I want you to treat me like a slut.”

He smiled and it didn’t seem so gentle or kind this time. He grasped his cock with a lazy twist as he stood by her bed. He stroked languidly like he had all the time in the world when he nodded towards her pillow.

“Get on the bed and lie down. Take that pillow and put it under your hips so I can watch properly.”

She did as he commanded, positioning herself as she did on any other night when she was too aroused and restless to go to sleep and wanted to masturbate without waking her roommate next door.

“Before we continue, I want you to pick a safeword for any time we need to stop.”

“Um. Postcards.”

He grinned, amused. “Dirty girl. No. It has to be a word you wouldn’t use normally in bed.”

She gave it serious thought. “Race car.”

“Good. Now spread your legs and show me.”

She licked her fingers and started absentmindedly stroking herself as she fiddled with the buttons of her vibrator. When she was comfortable, she started to circle it around her clit in tight, small strokes. She could feel him watching with such intensive study and it was distracting enough that she closed her eyes and tried to focus on his voice.

“What do you think about when you touch yourself?”

She contemplated the question earnestly and wondered how honest she should be. Before she could even think of something to say, he interrupted her, “And if you lie to me, I’ll know.”

There was a casual threat underlying his words and she shivered because it sounded like he really meant it. She wondered how many people had confessed to him their worst sins and crimes based on the timbre of his voice alone.

“I meet someone...for a date.”

He hummed encouragingly and she could hear a condom wrapper rip.

“We'd met through a dating website. And he’s sweet and nice and everything my parents dream of. But someone else has been watching us. Someone completely wrong for me. And I’ve been watching him back but I’ve been pretending not to.”

“Because that’s what good girls do?”

“Y-Yes. I wouldn’t—I shouldn’t even think to look at him in my peripheral.”

“But you still do, don’t you? Because you’re not the good girl that you pretend you are.”

“No. I’m not.” She swallowed and let the phallus enter her with a smooth stroke. The vibrations bounced off her walls familiarly but his added presence made the whole routine more intense. “I…I excuse myself to the bathroom but really I’m just pretending to be busy. I’m washing my hands but the second I hear someone come in and the lock clicks behind me, I know what’s going to happen.”

“What does?” He sounded closer to her ear and her thrusts increased a bit in speed.

“He corners me, holds me tight by the waist. His hands are rough and dirty on my skin."

"How rough?"

"Enough to bruise me."

"Go on."

"We don’t speak a word through it all but he knows I’ve been staring at him all night when I should’ve been paying attention to my date. I think he can tell from the way my thighs have been clenching.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve been aching. I’ve been wanting him to fill me all night.”

“And does he?”

She hissed when the tip hit a particularly sensitive part of herself. But it felt the wrong kind of good, like pain bordering on pleasure.

She answered, trying to get her wits together, “He slips a hand under my skirt, through my panties, strokes me through the fabric. Then he fingers me until I’m shaking."

"How many times does he get you off?"

"T-Twice. And when I’m wet and ready, he takes me from behind until I cum again in that dirty bathroom. And I keep thinking how everyone outside must know. That they can hear the sounds we’re making. My date must know I have a complete stranger’s cock in my pussy while he’s waiting for me.”

He growled, pleased, and turned on. “Dirty little slut. I bet you let him cum in you too, don’t you?”

Her hips were matching to meet her strokes. She didn’t dare speak but only nodded, not trusting her voice.

“You’d let him fuck you raw. Little whore that you are would like that, thinking you might’ve gotten knocked up by some bastard you don’t even know.”

“Y-Yes,” she cried.

“Then what would your parents think? To realize that their good little girl is a fucking dirty slut all along.”

“Oh fuck,” she cursed the word for the first time and felt thrilled when he groaned along with her. “Please, please fuck me!”

“Yeah, that’s it. Show me how he’d fuck you. How I’d fuck you.”

Her hips sped up, the toy practically slamming into her with a brutal pace and she could barely figure out at what point during her fantasy he’d taken over for her.

Her eyes fluttered open and watched as if under a hazy, feverish light. His thick forearm tensed with the speed she needed, his other hand possessing the skin above her stomach, and she was so painfully close again that when he turned up the vibrations to the next level of intensity, her second orgasm came barrelling down on her like a silent crash. She must have squeaked out something but her mind was so muddled, it could barely catch up with the realization that he’d taken the toy out and replaced it with his own cock.

“Oh my God, oh my God,” she sang when he unrelentingly started to slam into her with the same pace she’d used with her vibrator. He was bigger than anything she’d fucked herself with in the past but he slid into her so fluidly that it seemed almost impossible that she had struggled with his girth in the beginning. Not when he fit her so perfectly.

The bed squeaked with their added weight, joining the chorus of his slams, her gasps, the slight squelch where his cock met her pussy. The aftershocks of her orgasm lingered and jolted through her and she could only hold on for dear life at the continuous flow of pleasure the vibrations her toy and his thrusts brought every time they connected.

He was nearly silent except for the grunts and the moans he kept suppressed in his throat.

“Don’t hold back,” she whined, then whimpered when he pressed the vibrator harder on her clit. “It turns me on how good you sound.”

As if the floodgates broke with her permission, he groaned, “Fucking hell, you’re so beautiful like this.”

It was so honest and unexpectedly pure that she laughed and it was hot knowing that he could probably feel it where they were connected.

“I never…I never thought it could be this good,” she babbled, barely breathing as she melted onto the bed.

“Neither did I. God, how did I luck out in meeting you?” he rasped, something like tortured pleasure in the furrow of his brow.

She begged herself not to say something stupid like his body was made for hers or something. Instead, she hedged for a near truth.

“I love how you fit me. I love how good you feel inside me.”

He looked a little proud and he propped himself on his elbows as he bent forward to give her a kiss that was more tongue and spit than lips.

“What a good girl you are. My good fucking girl.”

When she clenched involuntarily, his smile turned feral. “Oh, you like that. You like when I praise you like that?”

She whimpered when he thrust into her with such force it left her breathless.

“Look at you. So perfect. Such a perfect cunt just for me. It’ll never be like this again. Your sweet, tight pussy was made to fit me. You were made to fit me. Only me.”

She couldn’t believe that he echoed her secret sentiments and though she tried not to, her chest swelled with affection. A bead of sweat slid down from his forehead to his nose and she wanted to lick him so she did. She kissed him again and ached with the sweetness of it.

“Yes, yes, it’s yours.” It was easier to attach her feeling of devotion to something carnal. Because to claim that her whole self, her best parts and her worst, belonged entirely to him was broaching what they agreed upon.

They were so slippery with sweat and their shared cum but it only made her want to hold onto his back even tighter.

“I’m close,” he grunted out to her lips.

“I can feel you,” she whispered. He rubbed his nose against her own and she felt herself get lost in that gold. “It’s okay. I got you.”

She watched in wonder as his own orgasm hit him. It started with his brows, then a quiver of his eyes, his muscles which seemed to lock into stillness. It ended with unfettered moans that had been dragged brokenly out his throat as his hips jutted unevenly with a rapid twitching motion that arrived in violent succession. She knew her own third orgasm would barely rival the first two but it was so sweetened by the secret pleasure and indulgence to watch him truly lose it that she really didn’t mind.

When the dust settled, he all but collapsed on her and they breathed together, content to feel each other skin-to-skin. She couldn’t stop touching him.

“Fuck me to hell,” he groaned in sated exhaustion.

She giggled. “Yes. That was the idea, wasn’t it.”

“Smart brat.” He nipped her shoulder in warning before muttering groggily into the vicinity of her neck, “When’re your roommates coming home?”

She stroked his hair languidly as if in apology for how she treated it earlier. “I don’t know and I don’t particularly care.”

“Where’s your bathroom then?”

“The room right across from me.”

He picked his limbs away from her and she admired his backside. It was silly to miss him when he disappeared since he returned only a minute later with two damp washcloths. They wiped each other clean in silence and for some reason, the mutual intimacy of it made her fidget more than anything of what they just did.

He seemed to think similarly because she recognized that he had grown quiet, his eyes a little distant.

“Only me” seemed to echo around the room like a gunshot.

“I wasn’t too rough on you, was I?”

“You gave back as much as I could take and vice versa,” she replied simply. “I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.”

He was watching something on her hip and she looked down to see the mottled blue that she knew would bruise by tomorrow.

“I can leave soon if you’d like.”

She tipped his chin to look at her. “No. Unless you want to, of course. But I… I’d like you to stay the night.”

He was contemplative and she resisted the urge to fidget.

Trying to be nonchalant, she added, “Besides, we didn’t even finish the first episode of the show.”

When he smiled wryly, she tried not to linger on her relief.

“You’re right.”

“Of course I am. We should probably clean up the living room though and watch it here instead to, um, avoid any mishaps.”

He chuckled. “Well then, lead the way. I'll follow."

Truly, she meant to at least finish the first episode.

But her bed and ratty pajamas were so welcoming, her limbs and mind exhausted and his presence so safe and solid that her mind cottoned into the incoming waves of sleep and surrendered.

Her awakening was a little less gentle.

Her phone alarm blared, a shrieking sound she had never bothered to change because it was too effective in keeping her from going back to bed.

It only took her a few minutes to realize that she was alone. And she didn't know how she was so certain that he was gone entirely but she was. Her room was as clean as she kept it, the laptop shut on her desk, and his side of the bed smooth and untouched. The only aberration was his jacket slung on her computer chair and the disc case on her nightstand table, a series of friendly, yellow Post-It Notes stuck on top.

She could hardly read.

Thank you for a great night. I meant what I said about the roses but you deserve the kind of guy who can take all your good and bad, and give as much back. I’ll never forget what we shared. Keep the jacket. It looks better on you.

Your friend, always, if you’ll have me the next time.

It was as much of a goodbye as anything else he could have written.

He hadn’t woken her up and he left no contact number.

It should have grieved her greatly. But even with such feelings, she couldn’t feel regret for any of it. She traced the elegant penmanship on the note, trying to match the beautiful loops with his rough and callused hands. Upon closer inspection, she realized that there was more to the note behind it. Un-sticking the first layer, she saw the words:

Have a good day.

The next revealed: Take it easy.

And the last. Don’t forget to drink water.

She couldn’t help it. She laughed, full and unbridled and much too loud for the morning as her grief completely left her.

“Looks like someone had a fun night.” Her roommate grinned, her head peeking behind her door.

“What do you mean?” Had she caught him this morning?

“Oh, girl. Don’t even pretend. I know what sex hair looks like. And your room reeks of it. Was he cute at least?”

She bit her lip from smiling. “Yeah.”

“Well, I’m glad you had fun.” The grin turned friendlier this time. “Noticed you were looking rough around the edges the past few days so I’m glad the party worked.”

She didn’t feel compelled to correct her. As she returned the smile, she realized that perhaps, flawed as it was, that a genuine friendship of care could bloom with her roommates after all. Perhaps, she shouldn’t have dismissed the chance of it so easily just because they showed their affection differently than she did.

“Thanks. For the invite, I mean.”

“Oh, please. But do text one of us if you’re going to disappear and run off with some strange boy.”

She checked her phone and realized that she had missed a few messages and calls after all.

“I’m sorry for making you worry.”

Her friend rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Whatever. Well, anyway, we’re getting brunch. Mimosas on me. You can even invite your new boy toy if you want.”

The other woman flounced off, leaving her to parse through the vestiges of sleep and the hazy, almost dreamlike quality of what had happened the night before.

But that had been no dream. And the day after wasn’t either.

She traced the notes again, feeling a little sad and immensely grateful, and didn’t know exactly what to feel after when she realized that she had never asked for his name.

It wasn’t that she was heartbroken the next few weeks.

But she learned that she usually worked harder whenever she was feeling out of sorts and her grades for the midterm exams were never better.

The weeks passed, then months.

Sometimes, she walked by Joe’s on purpose and couldn’t stop her neck from craning to see if a familiar patron was in attendance. Sometimes, she’d glimpse someone with a similar haircut from the back and hesitate just enough for whoever was walking with her to ask what made her stop. Sometimes, she’d meet a person with similarly colored eyes and wondered if they were a relative.

But life went on and so did she.

Her memory of him softened into something akin to nostalgia. Something treasured but certainly something ephemeral in comparison to everything else in her life. Fate had only meant for them to cross paths once and she accepted that to be enough.

It was only after a few years passed and she nabbed a coveted internship as a paralegal for Themis Law Firm at the near end of her law school career that it really felt like fate was finally setting her onto her proper course.

And on her first day, when she was sent to deliver some records at the police station to be signed by a newly promoted police captain named Darius Morgan, she wondered, as she gaped at the similarly bewildered look of his golden eyes, whether fate had a sense of humor.

If it did, she wasn’t sure if it was laughing at or with her this entire time.

#tesrs of themis #darius morgan x rosa #darius morgan x reader #.#fic.#nribh.#(it's not in second pov tho sorry)#this is like the smuttiest thing i've ever written and apparently i cannot shut up about it bc this is literally 10k of filth #w a bit of character development but still

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