+ After indulging in a shared stamina-boosting treat in the dead of summer, you find yourself twisted up in a silly argument that's laced with jealousy... the salt is heavy in more ways than one with this one.
Happy Fourth of July! Keep this in your back pocket for your post-firework bedtime story. Gracias to @gretavangroupie for edits and forcing me to post this love yaaaaa
Warnings: 18+! Angst: Cursing, Substance Use in the form of Aphrodisia, Arguing, Mentions of Alcohol, Heavy Jealousy & Possessiveness, Overall Bossiness Smut: Kissing, Touching, Penetrative Sex, Unprotected Sex, Fingering, Oral Sex (M! and F! Receiving), Dom/Sub kinda
+
“Son of a bitch, if we keep it up like this I’m not gonna have anything left in me, baby,” Jake admits as he removes his right foot from the arm of the couch, the other standing weakly on the floor, barely holding his weight. Your body is bent in half, your arms holding you uncomfortably upright as he pulls out from behind you, hands still gripped and squeezing tightly around your waist.
You and Jake had made the early afternoon decision to each eat a special pleasure-boosting chocolate that you’d been told about by a friend a few months ago, and saying that the effects always took perfectly for the both of you would be an understatement. Just one serving would have the two of you ravenous for each other for hours on end, and seeing as how neither of you had anything to do for the rest of the day, it only seemed right to end the weekend on a high note. It was only after you’d both eaten the chocolate and after you figured out that your air conditioning had decided to go out that you told Jake about your plans for next weekend, thus sending him into a pissed-off mood that was borderline a thrown tantrum. But you accounted his mood to the extra blood flow the chemicals in the chocolate had given him going straight to his dick, leaving little for his brain to process thoughts.
“Hah, look at you calling me baby, after bitching at me all day,” you quip, turning to meet eyes with him as you stand up straight again, the feeling of your own wetness sliding between your thighs. Your muscles already feel weak as you turn to plop back down on the plush cushions of the couch, careful not to drip anything on your freshly washed covers.
He instantly falls to his knees, growling as he grabs the insides of both of your legs to pull you closer to the edge of the couch. His mouth is instantly connected to your core, his tongue already burying itself deep inside your deepest crevices. You’re both groaning from near exhaustion, willing your bodies to keep up with your desire.
“I can bitch at you and still call you baby, Y/N. Not my fault you said yes to a date with someone else without my permission,” he barks before diving back between your legs.
Your hands smooth back the strands of hair sticking to his forehead, pulling them away from his face as you bite both your lips in, finding it insanely difficult to stop yourself from wailing his name so loudly you disturb the neighbors. He’s being facetious and you know that, but his attitude makes it all the more challenging to not give in to him completely. You love it when he gets a little jealous.
Instead of yelling at him, you bite a quick “fuck me” through your tightly clenched teeth, hoping to god he doesn’t hear you. His brow furrows as he makes eye contact with you, a maddening expression painted on his sweat-coated face that you’re sure is only there simply for the sake of playing dumb. “Are you just raving, or is that a request?” he growls as he pulls away just long enough to breathe his words out.
“Neither, asshole,” you lightly tap your fingertips to the side of his temple, knocking him sideways as he presses your legs apart, giving him further access to work you. He likes it. He gets off on you being playfully scornful to him. He cracks a short-lived but devious smile before turning back into his whiney self.
You take a quick breath, ready to explain yourself again. “And it’s not a date, it’s drinks. With my co-workers. How in the– aahhh, fuckkkk– how in the fuck is that a date?” Your eyes begin to roll back a little as he points his tongue directly over your clit, arrogantly knowing exactly what makes you fall apart for him.
He pulls his head back with a hiss, making you disconnect your hands from his roots as he eyes you meticulously. He licks his lips, your slick still coating the 5 o’clock shadow that’s now adorning his face after going at it with you all day. His eyes never leave yours as he plunges his two middle fingers inside you, pushing his other hand against the inside of your left thigh. “How is it not a date, baby? Don’t be fucking coy. You dated the man.”
You groan in aggravation as he pisses you off even more, still pinning your leg to the side as his fingers work inside you, hitting your g-spot with so much fucking ease you want to slap him again. “I went on two dates with him! That hardly qualifies as dating, Jacob,” you retort as he flicks his fingers with more precision. Your head falls back again, the pleasure coming in rippling waves now as you feel your stomach tightening. “Plus, he’s my manager… invited everyone… how am I supposed to say no to that?”
The air shifts a little as he loudly clicks his tongue.
“Did you ever fuck him?” he asks quickly, sitting back on his heels as he completely halts all movement of his hand.
“What?”
He leans in, hovering over your belly as his face is dangerously close to yours, his fingers still buried deep but staying completely still. “Did… you…ever… fuck him? Simple question, love.”
You swallow, not expecting the conversation to even go here, let alone while you’re literally fucking him.
Your eyes dart side to side, the blurry memories of sleeping with the man who is now your boss those some ten-odd years ago flashing through your mind. That was a lifetime ago, you were barely in college a few weeks. And it was two dates and a hookup before the two of you decided to just stay friends, and that was that. You’d only seen him in passing a handful of times over the years, but to be quite honest, after sleeping with him, he barely ever even crossed your mind.
You swallow again as Jake’s eyebrows raise, waiting for you to answer. He shoves his fingers deeper inside you to remind you that he asked a question, making you clench around him. “Fuck! Yes, okay? Yes. We slept together one time, Jake. Once. And it was ten fucking years ago.”
He stays silent as he bites his lip in, a rush of what looks like disappointment crashing over his face for just a second. He slowly picks up the pace again, delving his fingers inside at a much slower pace, now.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he mumbles, still biting his lips. You can tell that your admission has defeated him just a little.
“Tell you what? That I hooked up with him once? Probably because it feels like it was a figment of my imagination, at this point. I was eighteen. Why does it matter?” you ask, wondering if he’s really upset, or if he’s just pouting at the fact that you left this little detail out about this certain person you work with.
“He’s your fucking manager, Y/N, I don’t know…” he says, shaking his head side to side. You can see the sweat starting to form on his chest, the drips starting to form into a stream that is dripping down to his stomach. You could feel the heat of the day starting to creep into the walls now that the A/C has been out for a few hours, and the sun practically baking everything it touches outside isn’t helping in the matter. But there’s nothing you can do about it right now, the both of you will just have to suffer until the chocolate wears off and you can act like humans instead of rabid animals.
You stay quiet as you feel the knot tightening in your stomach again, wanting him to continue so you can reach your high, but also feeling the heavy shift in the conversation. You glance at the sweat pouring from him, and some kind of carnal instinct to want to taste it takes over your entire being. You suddenly need your mouth on him. You need to lick up every droplet of sweat that’s rushing down his body, and swallow it down. Taking matters into your own hands, you grab his wrist and rip his hand from you, standing up as you pull him to his feet. The soreness sets in again, having been in nearly every position in the Kama Sutra already today.
You pull on his hands, making him follow you into the bedroom. “What are you doing, Y/N?” he asks, trailing behind.
“Come in here, come lay down,” you order, turning him to push him down into the already messy sheets. Luckily, there’s a fan in here, giving the two of you a little reprieve as the heat fills the house. You watch as his tanned body falls backwards into the stark white sheets, his hair falling behind him as he reclines. His skin is glowing, his eyes trained on you, watching your every move as you crawl up him, purposefully snaking your body so that he has a visual of every single curve of your sweat-covered self.
You lean down, outstretching your tongue and touching his navel, working your way up his stomach and to his chest, collecting the deliciously salty taste of him on your tongue. There’s something about it, the flavor and the scent and the way he feels beneath you… it’s not the most pleasant, but you’re positive nothing on this earth tastes or smells more like home to you. You’d always read about how animals are attracted to their mates’ scent, and you never understood how it could apply to humans, too, until you became serious with Jake. It’s something that’s just wired into your brain now, and the longer you’re together, the more you find yourself craving it. Craving him.
“I’m sweaty and gross, babe,” he complains as he leans up and twists his hair into a knot behind his head, remnant baby hairs still sticking to and framing his face.
“You think I care? You taste so good… like you just got out of the ocean…” you say honestly, making him laugh a little through his nose. You run your tongue all over him, his sides, his groin, his pecs and his neck… each place tasting better than the last, and each spot making him absolutely feral at the feeling of your mouth on him. His light moans of bliss fill the room as his hands search for any part of you he can grab on to, his eyes fluttering open and closed as you watch his face light up.
You can tell he’s getting hard again as you let your lips lightly ghost over his shaft, the chocolate still putting in work in keeping him turned on. Finally, you find yourself starving for him again, too, letting your lips cup over the head of his dick as you give it one tight little squeeze.
“Please baby, fuck…” he grunts, his knees bending up and around your body. One thing about the way this chocolate works is that it amplifies everything, making every brush, every touch, every sensation amplified by a hundred. You have already had your mouth on him a couple of times today, but you can imagine how he feels simply from your experience with his mouth on you earlier, begging and wanting and needing the feeling so desperately. Absolutely bursting at the seams to experience the euphoria.
You move your body to straddle him, letting your already completely soaked core drift over his cock, ready and waiting to fill you again.
“Don’t think I forgot about the conversation we were having, Jake,” you tease as you position your knees firmly on either side of him. He fills his cheeks and blows out a long puff of air, his hand hitting his forehead to wipe away the sheen of sweat.
“I don’t remember us having a conversation, Y/N, but I remember me expressing to you that I’m not happy with this arrangement,” he says, smirking at you a little while he runs his tongue along his teeth. “You fucked him! And you work with him! And you never even told me!” he all but yells.
You let your opening line up with his tip, letting yourself fall on to it just an inch or so. Your body was begging you to sit all the way down, the fire burning within your veins way past its boiling point. But you held strong.
“You think I fucked him, Jake?” you ask, swirling your hips gently on him.
He tries his best to stifle his words, but he comes up short. “Oh my god, baby, you feel so– please…” he begs, his jaw falling slack just from the tiny touch. His eyes pop open and look at you, his expression absolutely pleading for more. “Yeah, you told me you did…”
You pause, letting the heavy air hang for just a second as you laugh a little under your breath. You shake your head side to side at his naivety, wondering just how he thought the situation went down all those years ago. “I didn’t fuck him,” you answer, letting yourself fall another inch as your fingertips pause on his stomach. “I was eighteen, I didn’t even know what fucking was…” you purr, swirling on him again.
His chest is heaving with want, his growls now turned into desperate whimpers as he’s doing anything but begging you to let him fill you. You know that if things were normal, and if the two of you weren’t caught up in this childish back-and-forth, he’d be on his hands and knees for you, falling to the floor at your every whim. His hips buck up into you, but you rise on your knees, not allowing him to have any control over the matter.
“But you… you and me… this…” you go on as you sit back down, giving yourself centimeters. “I didn’t know what I was even missing, until I found you…” you admit. “No one has ever made me feel like you do.”
He takes a deep breath, centering himself. “None? None of them?” His hand sneaks up and presses a thumb to your clit, adding just enough pressure to make your breath catch.
You shake your head side to side again, as you’re almost seated to the hilt, the feeling of him filling you again already making your body shudder. “No baby, none of them. So you can cut the pissy attitude, or I’m hopping off of you, and taking care of myself.” With that, you sit down completely on him, your bodies finally resting together as you feel the tip of him buried as far as he could get.
“Ffffuckk, Y/N, god damnit, yes,” Jake howls into the room as his thumb still works your clit, his other hand rushing up to grip onto your hip. But you steady your movements. Though your body is burning for you to move, you want to give him the same lack of satisfaction he gave you earlier. But just for a second.
“Answer me, am I going to have to take care of myself, Jake? Or are you going to quit being salty over something that doesn’t fucking matter and let me fuck you how I want?”
You know the situation matters to him. And you’ll validate that later. But not right now. Right now it’s fueling too much angst and you’re having too much fun.
His grip on your hip tightens so hard that it almost hurts, his fingernails digging into the thick muscle there. You’re fully aware that both of you can get turned on from dirty talk alone, and the chocolate is only exaggerating the feeling. Your brain is buzzing with electricity from it. You love when he gets a little rough. He can tell that your body responds to the little bit of pain, and like a switch flipped in his brain, he lets it turn on all his lights. Suddenly both his hands are on your hips, switching the places of both of you in one swift movement. Your body is pressed against the mattress, your shoulders being held down as he hovers overtop of you. “How about you let me fuck you how I want, hm? How’s that sound?” he challenges with an air of greed.
Like a petty little pet, you nod your head, completely losing the war of being the one calling the shots the second he squeezes your clit between his thumb and forefinger. The sensation almost kills you, cuts off your ability to breathe altogether as he begins pulsing his fingers quickly, causing the desire to pool up in your belly all over again. He’s never really concentrated his fingers this pointedly before; usually his hands are grabbing and squeezing wherever they can. But with the most sensitive part of your body being held so tightly and at the mercy of his fingers, you feel completely at his will. “How about I show you exactly why you choose to stick around, and you’ll keep choosing it, no matter how many dates you go on with your boss.”
“God, give it up, Jake,” you complain, rolling your eyes dramatically as his movements set your whole body on fire again.
You’ve barely gotten the words out before his other hand is braced across your neck, applying just the right amount of pressure to your pulse points. You want to swallow, but you can’t, all you can do is let out a pitiful whine that sounds more like a choked sob than a moan. His other two fingers are still gripped on your clit as he balances on his knees, his eyes laser sharp as the sweat continues to drip from his chest.
“Give it up? Give it up?! Baby, you’re being awfully bossy for someone who is in the wrong, here. And for someone who’s acting so bratty today,” he says, his voice sounding gentler than the words he’s spouting. “Tell me you won’t go to the bar with them. Tell me you’ll back out of the plans.”
Deep down, you know Jake doesn’t give a fuck who you hang out with. You’re both comfortable enough in your relationship that trust is paramount, and neither of you have ever tested it. He trusts you, and you him to come home to one another every night, never straying or giving the other a reason to be suspicious about anything at all.
He squeezes a little harder on your throat, sending a shockwave of pleasure straight to your core as his eyebrows shoot up.
“Come with me. Come out with us. You haven’t met them yet, anyway… come let them see that I’m yours, we don’t even have to tell them. We can show them…” you suggest, honestly liking this idea way more. His grip on your throat loosens as bit as he contemplates the idea.
“Show them, hm?” Finally he nods, giving in to your suggestion. “Okay, yeah, I’ll show up…”
You nod back at him as you give him the tiniest smirk, bringing your own hand up to cup over his, squeezing his fingers a little tighter on you. “What’s with you today, huh? Testing me every five minutes…” he asks. His teeth grit against one another as the wind from the fan hits the back of his head just right, blowing his damp hair over his face as he lets go of his grip between your legs, adjusting his body so that he’s positioned perfectly above you again. His hand moves from your throat straight down to your tit, gripping the whole thing roughly as he takes his dick in his hand, running it up through your wetness. The sensation is enough to floor you, every single atom in your body on fire and wanting to feel him completely.
Your hands find his waist, pulling him into you with everything you have, your legs already wrapping around him. “Stop making me fucking wait Jake,” you spout. “I’ll stop bitching, I promise, just please…”
“Oh now you wanna back down…? Not like I haven’t gotten you off three times already today…”
“You’re the one who’s been fucking bitching like a teenager all damn day! God…” you rouse, knowing that your voice is probably grating on his nerves right now. He presses himself harder against you, daring you to say another word.
“Watch your mouth,” he warns, still holding himself in his hand. You can feel his pulse throbbing in the head of his dick as it presses up against you, and you know if you say another cross word, you’re in for it.
“And what if I don’t?” you press, sounding as prissy as you possibly can.
He taunts you with the same ultimatum that you gave him earlier, “Then I’ll just have to go and take care of myself, I guess… and leave you here unsatisfied. Your mouth has been nothing but aggravating today, Y/N, I swear to god…”
You roll your eyes at him, knowing he most definitely hasn’t forgotten about your lips sucking at him for nearly an hour today, if you added it all up.
“Will you just fuck me, Jake? I’ll keep my mouth shut if you shut yours…” you spout as you feel your core drip down onto the sheets.
“Is that a fucking promise?” he asks, cocking both eyebrows.
“Swear.”
Like a wild animal that can no longer control it’s instinct, he presses all the way into you, stifling all the noises that you know he wants to make. His body lurches to hover over you as he picks up a slow pace, his hips cracking with extreme precision as his thighs smack against the backs of your legs. “God, you get on my fucking nerves,” he jests through his teeth.
“Mutual,” you say quickly, jutting your chin upward.
Your throat is burning with rage as you stop yourself from crying out, only tiny breaths of whimpers escaping as you hold your side of the quiet bargain. His eyes are dark and devious as his hips snap harder, hitting you more deeply than he has all day. Your vision blurs into a deep black with each thrust, the pleasure threatening to make you go nonverbal, anyway.
An especially harsh breath falls from you as he bends your leg up, hitting you even deeper and at a new angle. He brings his left hand up to his mouth, pressing his pointer finger gently over his lips with a hushed ‘Shhh’.
Your hand flies up and cups around your mouth as you follow his order, ceasing all sounds that could possibly escape you. His eyes stay trained on you as his hair falls across his face and yours, his scent wafting across your nose as you take in chopped breaths through it. You force your eyes closed as the pleasure builds in your stomach, the familiar feeling of the beginning of another delicious orgasm overtaking your psyche. It burns, the threat of overstimulation creeping up in your insides, but you ignore it simply for the fact that you are going to feel him so wholly again, letting him bring you to the brink of no return for the third, fourth, fifth… whatever time it will be today.
Suddenly you feel his lips on the shell of your ear, his teeth biting in as he whispers. “I’ll go on your little work outing with you, but if I’m gonna endure being around a man who’s already fucked you, you’ll do things to my liking, got it?” he asks, and you know better than to say no right now. Your stomach muscles are tightening, jerking your body as the bliss builds up, so you nod in agreement as your hand is still clamped over your mouth. “You’ll wear that low-cut top with the lace straps that I like so much… and that black leather skirt that cuts at your thigh… wear my favorite perfume, and that pretty little necklace I got you for your birthday. Sound good, babydoll?”
You nod again as his teeth pull on your earlobe, his voice low and gravelly, still. “Good. Then it’s settled. Then everyone will see how tantalizing you look outside of your work clothes, and they won’t be able to do a goddamned thing about it… they won’t be able to touch you… They’ll just have to admire you from afar while I tease you under the table…” his hand ghosts down and his thumb finds your clit again, making your eyes shoot closed and your head tilt back into the pillows. Fuck, if he doesn’t always manage to win these things. And you know he isn’t lying, either. You know your entire work outing will be full of his hands secretly snaking between your legs under any table you’re sitting at, his hand gripping your ass at every turn, his eyes staring daggers through you from across the room…begging you to sneak with him into the bathroom.
You know how the game is played, and somehow, he always fucking wins whether you want him to or not. What you don’t know though, is that he thinks the exact same thing of you. You winning him over with the way you feel wrapped around him, your body drenched and buzzing beneath him. He always wins, even when he doesn’t.
“You gonna cum, baby? Let me have it one more time?” he asks, his hand now pressing down on your stomach where he can feel himself entering you with each pointed thrust he’s still delivering.
“Mhmm…” you moan into his neck, his mouth still sucking hard on your ear and everything surrounding it.
“You’re mine… all mine… no one else’s… give me what I want, baby,” he gloats, and his possessive words send a slow shockwave through your body, the rippling effects of the most intense orgasm you’ve had today sending your mind into a noiseless world of white light. All you can feel is him, all you can think about is him… and when you finally catch your breath and let your hand fall to the back of his neck, your pitiful moan on the come-down reverberates off the walls, sending him to finish right behind you.
When his breath finally evens enough to come back to earth, his body collapses on top of you, completely spent as he pulls himself out of you. You lean down to kiss his neck, his skin still coated in that sweet-salty goodness that is enough to get you going again, but you relax, feeling the effects of the chocolate beginning to slowly wear off.
He flips his head around to face you as you both lie face-down on the bed, and a smile that you haven’t seen all day sweeps across his pink, pouted lips. “Do I still taste like the ocean?”
You let your fingertips tousle the hair around his face, drenched and sticky. “Better than the ocean. You taste like you.”
His cheeks blush as his demeanor completely shifts into softness. “You know I love you, right?”
“Yeah baby, I know,” you reply with sincerity.
“And you don’t have to wear all that stuff to the bar. You’ll look beautiful in whatever you choose. You could turn heads in a burlap sack.”
You giggle as you pull his hand up to your lips, kissing his palm. “But what if I want to wear all that? What if I want you to tease me all night, make my boss even more jealous than he probably already is?” you press.
“Then it’s a no brainer. Do it up, baby. I trust you,” he says with confidence.
“Maybe I will,” you reply, taking a deep breath. “Not pissy anymore now that I gave you what you wanted?”
He smiles coyly, snaking one arm underneath you to pull you on top of him again. “Nah. No more bitching from me. I think I was about to have a heat stroke.” His hands are ghosting all over your body again, but not in a wanting way. His fingertips drift over your curves as if he’s adoring the body that is sitting over him. Simply taking the time to appreciate you.
“Me too,” you giggle, and you know that the festivities for the day have most likely reached their bittersweet end. “I’ll go start us a cold shower while you call the landlord, sound like a plan?” you ask, holding your hand up as you await a high-five.
“Deal,” he says, clapping his hand to yours. “But you can’t try and seduce me in the shower, I don’t think I have anything left in me. You’ve drained me dry, girl.”
You laugh through your nose as you hop into the floor, rushing off to the bathroom. “We’ll see about that.”
Warnings: swearing, smoking, drinking, mild drug use, insinuation of traumatic events.
A/N: Oh my gosh I can't believe we are finally back! It feels so good to be writing and posting again, starting off hot with Golden Oaks. This story will have plenty of ups and downs and twists and turns that you know we love to write. As of right now there is no set posting schedule as we both have very busy lives, but rest assured we are actively writing and will be posting as frequently as we can. We hope you stick around for this one, you won't want to miss it.
A glorious collaboration with my bestie and cowriter @gretavanmoon.
Listen: Apple Music
JAKE POV
The Catskill Mountains, 1987
‘You’re back with KROQ 106.7… The Catskills hottest spot on the dial for today's biggest rock, pop, and everything in between. I’m your girl, Jojo Marigold and I’m here to make your summer not only sound, but feel like you’re livin’ in dreamland, baby.
It’s finally Friday, it’s a scorcher out there guys, 90 degrees and the temperature is only rising as the weekend approaches. So you know what that means… Gentlemen, lose the t-shirts, and ladies… Ohhhh ladies, we know you’re already out there in your bikinis ready to throw on that suntan oil and soak! It! Up!
We’ve got the phones lit up and the request lines are open for the next hour, so give me a ring at 1-800-845-KROQ…that’s 1-800-845-5765, and I’ll spin whatever gets your weekend rockin’. Don’t touch that dial… you’re riding into summer with Jojo Marigold on KROQ 106.7!’
“Shut up…” you mumble, barely loud enough to count as words. You reach over and turn the dial down without looking, keeping your other wrist loose on the wheel. The joint between your fingers has burned to almost nothing, sending a thin thread of smoke toward the cracked window.
You kick it into third as the road bends, and the sign for Golden Oaks Mountain Resort drifts into your peripheral. Hand painted and slightly sun faded, Est 1942. Same as it ever was.
Jojo Marigold was right about one thing, it is hot. Even as the day is creeping towards five o’clock, the sun still burns through your windshield as if it is ready to fry you right there on the dashboard. The Trans Am’s AC had given up somewhere around the Pennsylvania border, which meant the last three hours had been you, the open windows, and a Springsteen tape that kept threatening to eat itself.
By the time you’d crossed into the Catskills proper your shirt was half unbuttoned, your hair was doing whatever it wanted, and the tension you'd been carrying on your shoulders since February had slipped out the window somewhere along Route 17. You take one last, long, slow drag and pitch the roach out the window as you push your new wayfarers up higher on your nose.
‘What time is it, baby?! It’s quittin’ time, 5:00. And I don’t know about you, but here at KROQ, we’re ready to parrrrty! Here’s our first request, ‘Girls Just Want to Have Fun’ buy the ever-lovely Ms. Cyndi Lauper… so enjoy this one to get the weekend rolling!’
“No no NO! Not that shit–” you slap the dial all the way down until you hear static, then silence. Good.
The staff parking lot opens up ahead, a wide patch of gravel hemmed in by a row of old pines. You check your mirrors, and back the Trans Am in clean between the lines on the first try. She's only been yours since March– a ‘79, Red on Black, with a Firebird hood decal that the previous owner almost removed. Thank God he didn't. Eleven hundred dollars and a handshake from a mechanic in Flint who'd needed rent money more than he'd needed a car. Best deal you'd made in years. Maybe ever.
You kill the engine and the quiet rushes in. The cicadas, a lawnmower somewhere far off, the faint sound of someone's radio drifting down from the cabins above.
“Damn, Jake.” You hear her before you fully register the voice. “A Trans Am? When did that happen?”
You already know it’s Joy. You’d know that bubblegum pop anywhere. She’s leaned against one of the old picnic tables near the Welcome Center, arms folded across her chest, her tan already deep and holding, and her smile thin and sly— she knows exactly what she's doing. And though your current appearance is a bit worse for wear, she has decided to do it anyway.
“Happened when you started minding your business, Joy,” you say, swinging the door open as you step out in one easy motion, letting it close behind you with a solid slam.
“Ok, jerk,” she works her gum around her finger. “You get your balls in a bunch all winter or what?”
“Every winter.” You reach back through the window for your folder of paperwork. “You should know that by now.”
“You’re the worst,” she informs you.
“You say that every year, sweetheart.”
“And every year I mean it a little more,” she huffs.
You tuck the folder under your arm and cross the gravel lot towards her, your Sperrys crunching with each step. You pull your sunglasses up to sit on top of your head, and you lean in close. Close enough to smell her perfume, something sweet and summery. You look at her, making sure she's paying attention. “But as far as your question is concerned, you wanna take a feel and settle the matter?”
Her cheeks turn a deep pink and she turns on her heel. “Get a fuckin’ life Jacob. Or I'll throw your paperwork in the garbage before you can even sign it.” She's already moving towards the Welcome Center door, but the way she's walking tells you everything. “...Be like you were never even here. Never even showed up.” She’s mumbling with one hand flipping through the air. You’ve pissed her off just enough.
“Ah, come on, Joybird–” You follow her inside, grinning at the back of her head. “Don’t give me a hard time, now. I barely just got here.”
The lobby swallows the heat the moment you step through the door. It’s never had air conditioning, and probably never will. But the ceiling fans turn slowly in every corner, and the thick plaster walls hold in the cool air from the night before, so entry always feels like a reprieve.
Nothing here has changed, nothing ever does. That is, in fact, the whole point of Golden Oaks. It exists in a deliberate stillness, slightly outside of time. The carpet is the same deep green it was the first summer you walked through those heavy white doors. Nineteen years old, with nothing but a lifeguard certification and just enough sense to keep your mouth mostly shut.
The walls are still clean, the furniture still stiff, and vased pink zinnias sit on every available surface– the desk, the tables, the window sills. The walls are lined with photographs of golf pros mid-swing, tennis players at the net, framed commendations and ribbons dating back to 1950.
Best Mountain Resort. Best Mountain Resort. Best Mountain Resort. You’ve memorized every plaque.
Joy steps behind the front desk and you settle against the counter, watching as she works through a towering stack of manila folders. You wait a beat or two, and make a show of checking your wrist, which is bare.
“Alright, alright,” she mutters, not looking up.
“Any way you can move it along, Joybird? I’ve got beer to drink… new staff to impress.” You tap the face of your nonexistent watch. “Y’know how it is.”
“Cool your jets, Kiszka. I’m lookin’.”
“Not like I haven’t worked the same job here for almost a decade. You’d think there’d be a Jake pile by now.”
“I said cool it!” she barks. “You’re the last one of your brothers to get here, ya know,” she goes on, unbothered, finally pulling your employment file.
“Oh?” You take the pen from her desk cup without asking. You never ask. “Doesn’t surprise me.” You quickly flip through and sign all the necessary paperwork, making sure to not even read a single word of your yearly contract.
“Ya,” she pops her tongue. “Wasn’t sure you were comin’ back this year.”
You take a long sigh as you push the completed paperwork to her, meeting her deep brown eyes for the first time since last season.
“I always come back here, Joybird. You know that,” you mutter, licking your lips as your eyes unapologetically scan from her face down to her chest.
She grins, her fingers slowly gripping at the stack of papers. “Good,” is all she manages.
You clear your throat, shaking away the dirty thoughts that have already made their way into your mind. She makes it easy, though, the way her chest is already slowly heaving. “You going to the Haven tonight? Heard Doyle got a few kegs, couple bottles of something expensive. Gonna be good first night…”
“Uhm, I’ll be there a little later,” she mutters as she settles back onto her stool. “Don’t get off till ten.”
“Ten, things should be uh… heating up by then.” You press your palm flat to the counter, not a goodbye, more of a to be continued. She fully notices your deliberate and direct eye contact, and with another breath, you head for the door.
“Hope they are,” she says behind you, and you feel it follow you out.
“Wait, Jake! I forgot,” you hear Joy spout just as your hand reaches the knob. “You’re gonna have a couple newbies this season, they’re first years.”
Fuck. You turn back around, a look of disgust painted all over your face. Way to ruin the good vibe you had going. “Teenagers?! You’re shitting me… Where is everyone else? Where are my guys?”
“They’ll be here, don’t get so twisted up. You’re just gonna have to train a few new kids, that’s all.”
Your fingers tap the doorknob. “Am I getting a raise for that shit? I already trained these guys, I don’t need any more green help.”
Joy’s face flattens. “Yes you do, Jake. You know you need more help. Especially after what happened last ye–”
“Don’t, Joy.” You scoff, turning the knob once again. “I’ll see you later.”
The breeze cuts through the heat of the day, but not much. You climb back into your car and start the engine, ready to race to the top of the mountain to your cabin. Out of habit you crank the radio again, letting the music carry you up the dusty, winding road.
“I can see you, your brown skin shining in the sun…”
You sing it without deciding to, half under your breath, the way you only do when you're alone and moving. And there it is, that feeling. The one that comes every summer on this exact stretch of road. Three months. Three months at the best resort in the Catskills. Three months of easy work, late nights, and the very specific pleasure of being known by the right people in a small world. The money is almost beside the point and has been for years. This has never felt like a job. It has never felt like anything except the particular and lucky thing that it is.
But there is the other thing, too. The new thing that has been sitting in your chest since you locked the door to your apartment. Whatever is coming, whatever quiet thing the universe has apparently decided is overdue, you've found yourself wanting it.
You're on the downhill slide of your twenties. Maybe that's what this is. Maybe this is just what it feels like to understand that a life you've loved, exactly as it was, cannot stay that way forever. That something is always in the process of beginning, whether you're ready for it or not. Or maybe it's going to be a good summer and you're overthinking it. You've always been good at that, too.
The gravel of the cabin lot comes up fast, dust and rocks pinging against the undercarriage as you pull in and cut the engine. The quiet is back, but then from up the hill, you hear the sounds. Music through open cabin windows, the voices carrying in the cooling air. The warm yellow glow of cabin lights turning on one by one as the mountain begins to darken. Summer frogs begin to chirp in the woods as they welcome dusk.
Suddenly, in the thrill of it all, your stomach turns over with something good. It feels like a peek of golden light on your horizon, a familiar hand on your shoulder. Old friends, old stories, old flames, maybe? The mountain has always been generous that way…
But there’s something else, too. Something that feels like it might be worth finding out about. It’s unnerving and unsettling, but you like it. Almost like that first sip of whiskey from a bottle that’s been sitting in the cabinet collecting dust. Sour and strong but so, so delicious once you let it sink in.
“Yes you do, Jake, especially after what happened last year…”
Without warning, the memory of Joy’s words creep back into your mind. Last year, last August… the fifteenth, to be exact. At six twenty-six in the evening. The single worst day of your entire life, thus far.
Good outcome, horrific circumstance. That day haunts you at nearly every corner you turn.
But you repress it. You have to. You’ve learned that reliving the negatives of the past does nothing but taint the present and spoil the future… bleeding every good experience you’ll ever have dry. You’re smart, you’re resourceful, and you’re one hell of a lifeguard. You’ll not ever forget that.
You sit for a moment with your hands still on the wheel, letting yourself feel all of it. The familiar old pull of this place, and underneath it, the sense of a door being held open, adding in the sense of something about to begin. You truly can’t tell if you want to slam the door or run full-force through it. Either way, you’re ready to savor every bit of it.
In the distance, you hear a familiar voice yell your name in question. It breaks you from your trance, bringing everything back to the here and now. You get out of your car and toss your army green duffle bag over your shoulder, listening as your name is excitedly called again. Somewhere up on this wild old mountain, without even knowing it yet, your summer is already waiting for you. With bated breath and open arms, you’re more than ready to dive in, head first.
Ah, Golden Oaks Resort- in a class all it’s own, the best of the best. A place where adventure and leisure meet. A getaway like no other. Nestled in the mountains of upstate New York, this vacation destination offers more than just award-winning golf courses and scenic vistas for miles… It boldly offers each one of its guests something different.
It’s not often that a singular location has the ability to bring people together and bond them for life, but when this group meets up here each and every summer, life feels almost perfect. Untamed escapades, secrets, and love in all the wrong places seem to be the norm here. Golden Oaks isn’t just a resort, it’s an escape. On one hand, it’s a place where people come to relax, kick back, and enjoy the fruits of their labor. On the other, it’s a place that works itself into your bones, letting itself become a home away from home that’s nearly impossible to leave forever.
They say, ‘Once you leave, you’ll do nothing but want to come back,’ and it’s true. Golden Oaks has its way of making itself an addiction. The people who frequent these grounds and work the amenities don’t have plans to make this annual trip a thing of the past. And if you aren’t careful, you, too, will get swept up in the wild and serene entity that is the Crown Jewel of the Catskills. Be aware, though, that even paradise comes with a price. You’ve just got to be willing to pay it.
Word Count: TBD
Warnings: SMUT 18+, angst, yearning, swearing, smoking, drinking, mild drug use. More warnings will be posted for each individual chapter.
☀ ☀ ☀
Listen: Apple Music
Chapters:
Teaser
Prologue
Chapter 1
☀ ☀ ☀
Taglist: If you are interested in joining the Golden Oaks taglist, please click on this link.
You belong to someone else. Thats the first thing Jake Kiszka knows about you, and the second thing he knows is that it isn't going to matter. Structured after the fourteen tracks of Derek and the Dominos' Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs, this is a story about yearning. About the distance between almost and actually, a friendship tested beyond repair, about two people who kept looking away and back again.
It costs them both everything too get here. But was it worth it?
Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Female Reader
Word Count: TBD
Warnings: SMUT 18+, angst, yearning, swearing, smoking, drinking, mild drug use. More warnings will be posted for each individual chapter.
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Listen to the Album Here: Apple Music | Spotify
Track Listing:
I Looked Away
Bell Bottom Blues
Keep on Growing
Nobody Knows When You're Down and Out
I Am Yours
Anyday
Key to the Highway
Tell the Truth
Why Does Love Got to Be So Sad?
Have You Ever Loved a Woman?
Little Wing
It's Too Late
Layla
Thorn Tree In the Garden
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Taglist: If you are interested in joining the Layla taglist, please click on this link.
Warnings: mentions of smoking/drinking, mentions of violence, mentions of debts/threats/other things associated with back alley lending 😂, toxic relationship/situationship… pretty light. sorry if I miss any!
hi everyone!! you have no idea how happy i am to be back, and how hard i worked to get back here 😅 i hope you enjoy this as much as i do!
New York was filthy. Rain struck littered ground like knives, the echo bouncing off brick and travelling all the way down the narrow alleyway. You knew you shouldn’t be out there—that you were best off minding your own business, slinging drinks behind sticky countertops. You couldn’t help it, every fibre of your being forcing you towards the side door, begging you to forget every responsibility.
All for him.
Standing on the other side of the dumpster, chestnut hair soaked from the storm—strands plastered against tan skin as he spoke quietly to the person in front of him. You couldn’t see who it was—couldn’t care who it was. Your eyes were set on his silhouette. The details were clear to you even in the dead of night, never able to forget a thing since having him underneath your palm.
Since the moment you met him, he was the only thing that existed. The pivotal point of the very universe. Whether for good or bad, you didn’t know.
So far, it felt like the latter.
You watched, half hidden behind the heavy metal door propped against your shoulder. The green paint flaked and stuck to you. The rusted hinges squeaked with every slight move. The soles of your shoes were soaked. You couldn’t hear anything, could barely see anything, but you stood still as a statue desperate for just a glimpse into his world.
Jake Kiszka was a phenomenon. A ghost despite being the most consistent part of your life. A shell of a man parading around with a mask of confidence to hide behind. As you stood in that alleyway, chilled to the bone, it had little to do with the weather overhead.
He took to that stage like he owned it—his ego too big to fit inside the bar. Just him and that beaten up guitar, the only thing in the world he had any kind of care for. If it were a competition, you wouldn’t even bother showing up. It didn’t matter if the floor was packed, or if there wasn’t a table filled in the entirety of the place. Jake played the same way every time: like his life depended on it.
You didn’t know it then, but he played that way because it did.
That was the very thing that drew you to him, stuck behind the counter—a lonely barkeep who was still trying to adjust to the big city. Dying to feel, dying to live, but no way to do it. Seeing him on stage, fingers flying over the fretboard, it wasn’t the music that moved you, but the passion that he used to play it.
It didn’t take long to realize that too was an act.
Everything about him was dishonest. A snake pit of lies that burrowed deeper and tighter the further you went. The venom burned and you were beginning to suffocate. The longer you dug through it, the poison spread—the tips of your fingers had long blackened and turned numb. There was something so addicting about the danger, so intoxicating that you couldn’t see it for what it truly was.
Standing in that alleyway, you knew you were in too deep to find your way out. Even if you wanted to, there was no escape. Dying for a cause that wasn’t your own, but comforted knowing he would be right there beside you—even if he was doing everything he could to keep you out of it.
The phenomenon of Jake Kiszka spread far beyond the electricity on stage. Much bigger than the lies and the deceit. More powerful than the secrets and shared glances across the room.
Every time you tried to leave, to walk away, to convince yourself you deserved more than the man that could barely look you in the eye, you fell straight back into the trap.
The phenomenon of Jake Kiszka was simple, and it came down to one, simple fact: he was inescapable.
The second calloused fingertips caressed soft skin—the instant his lips touched yours—you were his.
Even if you didn’t want to be. Even when he didn’t want you.
Standing in that alleyway, for the very first time since meeting him, you believed he felt it too.
Not that you were his, not that you wouldn’t leave no matter how hard he pushed—but that he was yours, too. That whatever twisted, fucked up mess he found himself in, you were going to be right there beside him.
You couldn’t tell if he wanted that, or if he wished he’d never met you.
It used to hurt when you thought of it, but now the idea was familiar. You’d grown comfortable with the ache it brought along with it. In fact, you weren’t sure what you’d do without it. Security was a stranger, especially when it came to him.
Looking back over his shoulder—rain pelting the face that haunted your dreams more than it blessed the waking hours—his eyes met yours. Pools of chocolate, ones you’d memorized too well, silently pleading with you.
You weren’t sure for what—to come closer, to run away. At the end of the day, it didn’t matter. Stepping towards him, or stepping away, you’d never be free.
You’d waste the rest of your life searching for him in everyone you met, ruining yourself in hopes of feeling just a sliver of the way he made you feel with someone new. At the end of the line, you’d run so far you’d end up one step behind him, begging for him to come back—to come home.
Half hiding behind that too heavy metal door, arm scraping against peeling paint, you had no idea how the hell you got there. You had no idea what to do. You had nowhere else to go.
Jake, all of his baggage, the lies and the secrets and the egregious lack of desire to have you in his life, was the only thing that made any sense.
He stood, staring—not trying to force you inside, nor trying to hide away. The first time he’d ever truly let you see him, and you still weren’t even sure if that was true.
You expected him to turn, to shut you out, to do something—anything. Instead, he remained still, the expression on his face not far from pained as he accepted what he’d been trying so hard to refute. His jaw set like stone, his brow furrowed like it did on stage when he reached a solo, you couldn’t understand why it was so horrible for him to let you in.
Then, you saw it.
In his hand, the rolled wad of cash you’d taken from the register to pay him for his set. Knuckles white as he held on to it, like he would die if he let go. Never breaking from your gaze, he reached forward in a split second—toward the man on the other side of him.
The other man was unfamiliar to you, dressed in all black and towering over Jake. As he accepted the money, he turned away—like the only intent of the meeting was to cash out someone else’s earnings. Your stomach sank as he disappeared toward the other end of the alleyway.
Jake didn’t move, remaining in position half concealed by the dumpster, his expression only growing more worrisome the longer you waited. Whatever back alley deals he was making, it very clearly hurt him to involve you. As much as you hated to see him in pain, it was the most emotion he’d ever shown you. Good or bad, you clung to it, desperate for more and terrified you may never see it again.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he stepped toward you. Soles of his boots splashing with his heavy step, he never once looked away. You weren’t sure you’d ever been so centric to his world before, his focus only growing stronger the closer he got.
Under the street lamp, he didn’t slow until the two of you were nearly chest to chest. Looking down at you, the yellow glow illuminated the evening's sins. Finally privy to all he kept hidden, your heart jumped to your throat, muscle constricting around muscle, determined to kill you.
Breathless with an aching chest, you reached a shaking hand to his face. Fingertips grazing the skin under his eye, a bruise already starting to bloom, you half expected him to flinch away. Instead, he allowed it, leaning into the touch like your comfort was the very thing he’d been searching for all along.
Whatever he was involved in, whatever situation held him hostage—it was real, and it was dangerous.
Worse yet, you were undoubtedly a part of it whether he wanted you to be or not.
The noise from the bar faded away. The splatter of rain on your face ceased to exist as you cupped his face in your hands. Even your heart stilled in your chest as he leaned down, nose brushing nose as the facade disappeared in an instant.
You swallowed hard. “Whatever this is… whatever you’re doing… I’m here. I want to help.”
The silence was heavy, until finally his lips moved. “You should stick to bartending, sunshine.”
His voice was pained, thick with something you could not decipher.
For a moment, you debated agreeing. Then, you noticed that desperate, desolate look in his eye—the only emotion he’d ever handed to you so bluntly, so easily. Maybe you didn’t need the trouble, but you needed him. And for the first time, you truly believed he needed you.
The feeling was euphoric, even if the circumstances were dire.
“I told you, Blue.” You whispered, throat dry as you tried to choke down everything you felt for him.
The nickname felt wrong on your tongue.
He didn’t want to show it, but you could see his expression shift at the sound of it. No longer annoyance, but acceptance. In some way that was specific to only him, it even seemed that he liked it.
“You’re not getting rid of me.”
The smile that stretched his lips didn’t reach his eye, but it was more generous than anything that came before. Like a glimmer of hope in the black of night—the promise of sun, even if you couldn’t yet feel it on your face.
He didn’t speak, didn’t agree, but you could see him give in. The lack of argument should have been reassuring, a step in the right direction, a promise of something better. Instead, when he pressed his cold lips to your wet forehead, a deep sense of dread settled deep in the pit of your stomach.
A sneaking suspicion arose, one that led you to believe being a part of his life was more than you could ever bargain for. His silence was typical, but the kind that held you then was abnormal—suspicious.
As you held his face in your hands, Pandora’s Box was opened—there was no going back, even if you so desperately wanted to.
You've never told anyone your secret, until one night it's basically forced out of you. Your hot, and otherwise fairly cheeky co-worker Jake takes it as a challenge, giving himself, and you, a finish line that you hope you can reach.
Smut: Kissing, Heavy Flirting, Dirty Talk, Touching, Penetrative Sex, Unprotected Sex, Fingering, Oral Sex (F! Receiving), Edging
+++
“OK Y/N, your turn.”
The wine glass in your hand is almost empty, the rosé your friend had chosen for the Friend’s Night In finally working its way through your body at a delicious pace. You feel loose, giggly and warm as you pick up a card from the top of the deck, reading it once to yourself before you even begin to read it out loud for everyone to hear.
Your eyes quickly scan the small font on the card, and you feel your stomach fall all the way through you. Fuck, you can’t answer this…
“Ugh, that one’s dumb. I’m picking another car–”
“No!” your friend Kel stops your hand from throwing it onto the discard pile. “You have to read it. Out loud, and answer it,” she slurs, giving you eyes of playful accusation. “S’in the rulebook. Come on…”
You’re surrounded by what you’d now consider close friends, but mostly you’d consider yourself a newbie that was adopted into their already fairly close-knit group. Not really by way of pity, but more by way of necessity. You’d moved to this new city barely a month ago, and you were thankful that your new job had afforded you a brand new group of people with similar interests and similar schedules. But most of all, you had been awarded the ability to spend nearly every day with one of the most beautiful specimens you had ever had the pleasure of laying your eyes on, Jake.
He’s gorgeous, funny and a little bit off-putting sometimes, but never enough to bother you. He’s charming and a little over-flirtacious at times, but that’s to be expected from someone of his level of attractiveness.
Jake is seated on the arm of a recliner, leaned back and relaxed as he sips on his own wine straight from the bottle. He’s in slouched black jeans and an oversized light gray hoodie, one that you’d imagine he’s had since high school given the way it fits. His hair is tied back into a messy knot under his ballcap, and you smirk at the way his nonchalant appearance matches perfectly with his overall personality. Always comfortable, no matter the circumstance.
You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been catching yourself eyeballing him all night, drooling over his every move as if you had a little schoolgirl crush. You’d scoffed at yourself more times than you could count, scorning the thoughts that had started to flow more freely, and more unwelcome through your mind.
You roll your eyes and take a deep breath as the voices of the friends surrounding you quiet down and hone in, ready for you to read the words on the card.
“Tick tock, tick tock,” another one of your friends says through a sip of his beer.
“Okay! Okay, shit,” you clear your throat, building up the courage to read the words on the card. “Share the number of the most times a partner has gotten you off in one hookup.”
You swallow, hearing the rest of the group share expressions of “oooo”s and “answer it honest, Y/N!”
You catch Kel’s eyes from beside you, glossy and red as you watch her snicker through her teeth. Fuck, now you’ve gotten yourself in deep. You can’t lie, they’ll know you’re making your answer up. So what’s left to do but tell… the truth?
You can feel Jake’s eyes on you as he sits up from his earlier position, now fully interested in what you have to say. You can’t lie, you like the way it feels with his eyes trained on you, his jaw grit tightly as he hones in.
“Um,” you purr, taking another long sip of your wine. “One?”
The group erupts in another deafening round of words of disbelief. The sound blurs around you as your embarrassment grows, and all you can hear is the expletive nature of their laughter.
“One?! Seriously, Y/N?”
“Look at her, she’s blushing!”
“Are you kidding? Or are you telling the truth?”
You slam the card back onto the discard pile as you sit up on your knees, reaching for the almost-empty bottle of rosé to refill your glass. And quick. “Ugh, I told you guys it was a dumb question! Kel, it’s your turn anyway.”
“No no no, Y/N, we need a storytime,” Kel says, taking the bottle from your hand and refilling your glass for you. Kel is your closest new friend, and you already feel like you can tell her just about anything. Her outgoing nature is almost overwhelming at times, and you sometimes find yourself questioning how the two of you ever clicked so well.
There are only six other people in the room with you, but you suddenly feel like you’re being suffocated. Suffocated from the crowdedness, and from the pressure of talking about a topic that, honestly, is quite embarrassing.
Truth be told, you’d never had someone make you orgasm. Ever. Not even once.
Sure, you’d been able to achieve it many times by yourself, so you know it can happen. And you’d had plenty of people get close, but never once had you been with someone who could get you there. They’d build you up, have you teetering on the edge and about to tumble over, but they could never help you over the hump. Never cared enough to satisfy your needs before their own. You weren’t sure if it was your poor choices in lovers, or just their inabilities to care enough about you, though you were always pretty positive it was the latter.
The chatter in the room ceases, and you feel Jake’s piercing eyes on you again, sharp and focused as he listens.
You contort your face up, “Nah, no storytime,” you say.
“Is it one, or is it never?” Kel presses, causing the group to die down again, now completely interested in your answer. You know they can see the writing on the wall; you never were one to hide your emotions well.
Your lips purse together, and thankfully the alcohol has removed just a sliver off the top of your inhibitions. “Fuck, okay, it’s never.”
It feels so embarrassing finally admitting that to a group of near-strangers, let alone to yourself. The point of the card game was to be brutally honest, and since everyone else had partaken in giving up their naughtiest and most kinky admissions tonight, it only felt right to go right along with it.
“Never…” you hear Jake’s hollow voice from the corner, still perched on the recliner arm. Your eyes shyly float to him, feeling like you’d rather crawl in a hole and die than look him in the eye, right now. How fucking humiliating…
Instead, you decide to own it, straightening your posture and turning on the confidence to cover up the fact that you’d never fallen apart at the hand of another human being. “Nope,” you say with a pop of your lips. “Never. Not even once. I don’t think anyone out there can make me feel as good as I do, so. Maybe I’ll just keep it that way. It’s like people don’t even want to try, these days.”
You force your body language to do a 180, flipping the script from pure humiliation to one of extreme self-assurement. If anything, maybe everyone will view you as a little bit more confident in yourself, and laugh at the fact along with you.
“That’s fuckin’ right, sis!” Kel says loudly as she holds her hand in the air for a high-five. “Fuck them, you get what you give, right?”
“That’s right,” you agree with her, letting your palm slap onto hers. Finally, the group falls back into the flow of the game, and away from centering their attention on your admission. The more you think about it, the more it feels like it’s not that unheard of. Maybe others in the group are right there with you, they just don’t feel the need to admit it.
Then you feel it. Jake’s gaze again… this time his eyes aren’t waiting for you to talk, they’re pondering you. Glaring, harsh and striking as they bore straight through. You begin to feel a little uneasy from it, actually. The few glances you take his way seal the fact that he’s blatantly displaying not hiding that he’s staring directly at you. The fuck?
After a few more rounds and a few more confessions, you can’t help but notice that since your admission, Jake has been completely silent. He has barely uttered a word since you laid out one of your deepest secrets. Everyone slowly moves into the kitchen area of the house to grab snacks and refills, and you’re left standing with Kel as she drones on and on about how her situationship didn’t make it tonight.
“It’s like he doesn’t even want to try, ya know? I plan all these fun get togethers, ask him to go on dates… and he never reciprocates. He never plans. M’ I being annoying, Y/N? Should I jus’ leave him alone and let him be an asshole to someone else?” she slurs.
You’d never admit it to her, but you aren’t even really listening. Things had been this way between them since you met Kel. You’d tried to tell her a million times that he’s probably never going to change, but she never listens. You learned quickly that telling her to leave him in the dust and move on was the best plan of action, instead of coddling her into thinking he’ll change.
“Yes, you know I’ve told you that before. Move on, find someone else. He sucks, anyway,” you say as you tip back your glass again, unenthusiastic about the same damn conversation. You love Kel, you really do. But you can only give her the same advice so many times before it starts to feel pointless.
The energy in the room has begun to pick up as everyone’s intoxication settles in, and the mood finally feels good. You’re positive that everyone has long since forgotten about your little admission earlier, and you pray that no one will even remember it when they’re sober.
“Two minutes.”
Shock rushes through your system as you hear it, Jake’s hushed and gravely voice echoing in your ear. You jerk away as he startles you, turning quickly to scold him for making you jump out of your skin.
“What?!” you ask, slightly thrown off.
He’s standing behind you now, his hands balled up in the pockets of his hoodie as he confidently takes up space in the most alluring way. Always so comfortable in his stature, always so confident in his actions. He leans in a bit, glancing to the others before speaking again.
“Two minutes. That’s all I’ll need.”
You swallow down the sip of wine that you’d nearly choked on, and try your best to understand what he’s talking about.
“I… I don’t know what you mean, Jake,” you stutter, furrowing your brows. “Need for what?”
He snickers, running his thumb and pointer finger along his mustache, then down his neck. His slit eyes peer at you from under the shadow of his hat. “I think you know what I mean, Y/N,” he laughs, almost as if he’s mocking you. “You’re a smart girl.”
You stand there awkwardly, Kel now having long abandoned your side as she drunkenly deals with her own situation. You feel your eyes bouncing around the room as you search your mind, trying to think of what on earth this man is going on about.
“I… guess, but I–”
“Two. Minutes.” Suddenly his mouth is on your ear again, and you’re almost knocked down by the smell of his cologne mixed with the bitter wine on his breath, and the feeling of his hand gripped on your side, sturdy but soft. “That’s all the time I’d need to have my name rolling off your lips, over and over and over…”
You can’t help it, your eyes close for a split second before they nearly bulge from your skull, a debilitating chill wracking through your body as he pulls away. The look on his normally soft face is overtaken by an expression of pure intensity. You swallow, unable to speak, unable to think as his words take you completely by surprise. You stand still as the shock deems you unable to move at all, but you can’t lie, the way he cocks his eyebrow at you before sliding his hand back in his pocket has your body suddenly feeling magnetized to him.
“Just let me know if you wanna prove me wrong,” he says before pulling away and disappearing back into the mess of the bodies in the kitchen.
You have to physically pull your jaw up from the floor, your body in complete confusion trying to process what just happened. Did he really just ask you to let him get you off? In two minutes?
No, it’s absurd. Jake is barely even your friend. He’s almost a stranger, even. Aside from getting to know him for the past month during your shifts together, you only just last week learned his last name. You don’t even know anything about him besides surface-level formalities. No. You can’t even fathom sleeping with someone you barely know. It doesn’t make sense…
But then you notice the hairs on your arms still standing up, the nerves in your body still on high-alert, and as much as you hate to admit it, that familiar draw in your stomach that is a tell-tale sign that your body wants him, too.
Fuck.
Are you considering this? Are you really thinking about letting him prove his little game to you? You’ve done nothing but pine for this man for weeks, imagining what his hands would feel like on your skin, and how his mouth would taste on yours…
But it’s ridiculous, right? For a split second you consider pulling Kel into the bathroom to tell her what just happened and ask her opinion, but for some reason if you decide to go with this, you almost want it to be in complete secrecy. Almost. Actually, why not? It’d been a minute, and you know there’s no way in hell he’d be able to hold up his end of the deal, anyway, but why not let him try? Why not let him attempt?
Like a switch is flipped in your brain, you pick right back up with the over-confidence you’d found earlier, and your legs begin pulling you straight back over to Jake. Shit, what are you doing? You’re being summoned by some otherworldly force, some powerful magnet that you wouldn’t be able to stop even if you tried. But against all your reservations, you find your hand gripping his forearm, pulling him away from his conversation.
“Where?” you ask, your voice chopped.
The most devious grin dances across his lips as he pulls his tongue to the side of his cheek. His hooded eyes give you an up-down, but instead of it making you feel uncomfortable, it motivates you.
“Your place,” he says. “Unless you have another idea.”
“No. That’s fine,” you reply. “Just let me get my keys.”
He grips your hand in his as he pulls you back, bringing your body within inches of his. “No, you shouldn’t drive. I’ll take us. Just tell me where to go…” his eyes travel down your body again as your breath is completely stolen from your lungs, his hand still gripped tightly around yours. As if you have a dog in the fight, anyway.
“You’re right, yeah. Um, just let me tell Kel bye,” you shake out. You rush back through the group that has now grown from six people to twelve, the small get-together now turning into a larger gathering. Good. Maybe no one will notice the two of you are gone.
You find Kel slumped over a table, her posture sad and defeated as she cleans up the card game from earlier.
“Kel, babe, you need my help? Are you okay?” you begin shuffling the cards back into a stack. “Is he coming?”
She sniffles. “No, he’s not coming. But, I’m kinda happy, y’know? Fuck that guy. I donneed ‘em,” she slurs.
You place all the cards back into the box and close it up, taking Kel’s hands in your own. “I’m so sorry, love. But I’m proud of you, you’re so much better than that. You deserve someone who is gonna bow to your every whim, you know?” you console her.
A bright smile crosses her face. “God I love you, thank you,” she beams. “You’re right. I’m deleting his number. I’m done.”
You know that tomorrow she will probably be right back where she was before this, just like always. Sadly, all you can do is hold her hand through it and hope that one day your advice will stick.
“Wait, are you leaving?” she asks.
"Yeah, um… yes,” you say, biting your lips into your mouth. “I’m going home.”
“Let me order you an Uber, you shouldn’t drive–”
“Jake’s taking me. Taking…us,” you blurt, your hands suddenly wringing against each other at your waist.
Kel’s face is stoic. “Huh? Jake? Our friend Jake?”
You smile sheepishly.
“Whattd’ya mean us? Is… Wait. Oh my god, biiiiitch…” Watching her realization fly through her mind is almost entertaining. “Shut up, are you serious?”
You nod quickly, tightening your neck muscles to show your semi-uncertainty in the decision. “Yeah, I dunno, is it a bad idea? I’m dumb, right?” you whisper.
“NO!” Kel yells loudly. “Matter of fact, why are you still here?! Get the fuck out of my house!” she begins physically shoving you back through to the kitchen. “Let’s go, excuse us! This woman’s got places to be! Coming through!”
As Kel pushes you through the now sea of people, your heart rate begins to skyrocket the second you see Jake waiting for you at the back door, hands stuffed into his jeans pockets. He looks almost ethereal as he watches you, keeping track of your every move.
“I want a full debrief and details t’murrow morning, littttirlly as soon as you wake up,” Kel whispers in your ear. “Jake doesn’t just do this, I hope you know…” she says quietly. “He must think you’re special.”
Finally Kel deposits you in front of him, his hand patiently resting on the doorknob as you finally make it through the crowd.
“Be nice to her, Jacob. Or else I’m tellin’ ev’rybuddy how you fell asleep hugging the toilet at the Christmas party last year,” Kel says to Jake, earning a gasp and laugh from you.
He slits his eyes at her. “I’m always nice Kelena, don’t you know that by now?” he retorts, taking your hand again and pulling you through the door. “Thanks for the party, love!”
You hear Kel’s voice echoing through the air as Jake walks you to his car, “You kids have fun now!”
You both are laughing and shaking your heads as he opens the door for you, and you slowly slip inside. The alcohol is still swirling in your bloodstream, and the second alone in his car allows you to take a deep breath to make sure this is really what you want to do. Watching the wind brush through his hair that has fallen in his face, and his hands nimbly finger through his keys as he walks to the driver’s side seals the deal- he’s too delicious to pass up, and the offer is too damn good to refuse.
He closes his door behind him and starts the car, quickly finding a song he is happy with and a warmer temperature on his dash. “You cold?” he asks.
You shake your head. “No, m’fine, thanks.”
“Then why are you shivering?” he asks, checking his mirror as he pulls out onto the street. You envy his confidence so harshly it almost pisses you off.
“I–I dunno, just…”
“Don’t be anxious, Y/N, there’s no need to be nervous around me.” He laughs through his words, his tone warm and inviting. Just the sound of his voice makes you feel like he thinks it ridiculous anyone would be nervous around him, when in all reality, you know he makes every female around him falter with anticipation.
“What makes you think I’m nervous?” you ask. “You’re the one that has a challenge.”
He tilts his head back and laughs, a true guttural laugh, and you can’t help but feel a little more at ease, especially watching how his hand grips onto the steering wheel.
“A challenge…” he repeats. “So it’s really true, you’ve never…”
“No,” you reply, now comfortable with it. “I swear. Just… hasn’t ever happened with someone else.”
“You’ve never even…been close?” he asks, his eyes edging sideways.
You take in a quick gasp of air as you recenter, your mind quickly flipping through your Rolodex of past-hookups. “Maybe… a time or two, but. Nothing sticks out in my mind.”
Jake stares through the windshield, clicking his tongue. “What a goddamn waste…” he growls under his breath.
“I’m sorry?” you ask.
“Ah, you know what I mean. Not a waste,” he readjusts himself in his seat. “Well, actually, yeah. A waste of your time, I’m sure. I mean, sex is all good and fun, but if you’re doing it casually, then why not try and make it the most fun for everyone involved, you know?”
You nod in agreement.
“I mean,” he goes on, “everyone’s there to reach the finish line. Or prefer to, at least, right?”
“Yeah, you would think,” you giggle, tossing your hair behind your ear. “Guess not everyone has the same idea.”
He’s quiet for a second as he slowly makes his way down the empty street. “I mean, I–I guess I don’t understand why no one bothered to take their time with you. Help you get there… You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, if I’m being honest,” he laughs, working his fingers over his lips again.
If you weren’t blushing before, you sure as fuck are now.
“Thank you, Jake, that’s really nice,” you laugh shyly.
“I’m serious,” he says, looking at you, finally. “It’s been hard to keep my eyes off of you all night.”
“I uh, I noticed. While we were playing the game,” you reply sheepishly. “Had a bit of a staring problem tonight, didn’t we?”
He laughs again, “I mean, I just can’t imagine having the pleasure of sleeping with you, and not making you c—well… the most of it.”
You can tell that he is trying his best to be respectful while still open about the subject, and to be honest, it was turning you on. God, you halfway wished he would have slipped up and said the word, only to satisfy the dirty thoughts already flowing through your mind. The compliments are making your head spin, and his nonchalant way of speaking is making you weak for him, already. Your body is burning for more of the feeling.
His left hand grips the steering wheel again as you near the end of the street, stopping at a stop sign. His free hand slowly comes to balance on your thigh, gently at first, then with just a little more force. Your eyes meet his, dark and hooded and flushed out with growing desire. “I just need you to tell me where to go…”
It feels like his hand is burning a hole through your skin, the feeling of his fingertips gently gripping into your muscle makes you feel like you could explode into a million pieces. You can audibly hear yourself exhale as his pinky is close to the bottom hem of your skirt, digging into the place that could become dangerous territory, if he were to keep going.
You’re leaning into each other now, and you can’t help but let your hand fly to cover his, interlacing with his fingers that are already halfway between your thighs. He squeezes harder, your hands gripping together as he gently massages you. You can feel your body starting to move, starting to let itself be pulled into his atmosphere as if he himself is the source of gravity.
Your elbow is leaned on the console, your breath already beginning to falter as he lets his nose brush yours, his breath hot as it lands on your lips. You’re fighting with everything in you to not make the connection, to not give in to the horrific temptation that he is already presenting you with. “Tell me, Y/N…” he demands, your name sounding like he pulled it straight from heaven. Or in tonight’s case, the pits of hell.
“Left here, then a right four streets down…” you murmur, gripping your hand even harder over his. His fingertips are harshly grabbing at you now, kneading at the muscle. “Or we could just… Pull over here…” you say as your other hand goes to hold his cheek in place, turning the tables just a little bit. You watch as his jaw tightens, likely considering your proposition as you hear his breath hitch. He feels so good already, and you’ve barely made it out of the neighborhood.
He rips himself away, but leaves his hand positioned perfectly on your leg. “No, not here. We’re going to your place. Gonna go where I can take care of you the right way.”
The disconnect nearly kills you, but you summon up enough courage to continue on with the banter. “Take care of me, hm? I’m not one to need looked after, Jake.”
He smiles, avoiding your eyes as you watch the stoplights reflect off his face. “S’not what I meant, baby. You’ve never had someone do that for you before? Take care of you?”
Fuck, you can feel yourself starting to burn for him just from his use of the pet name. How can he so easily make you feel this way? It’s barely been ten minutes since he approached you in the house, and already you’re kicking yourself for letting your guard down so quickly. You’re five kinds of flustered.
But… he’s so enticing…
“I’m not sure,” you reply candidly. “You’ll have to tell me what you mean.”
He offers you another glance, his lips barely puckered as he fights off another laugh. “Well, I could explain to you what I mean, or I could show you. You can pick.”
Alright, that shuts you up.
“This street?” he asks, pointing to the green road sign.
“Yeah,” you respond breathlessly. “Third place down… on the left.”
He pulls into the parking space and parks the car, and you feel yourself get dizzy from the fact that this is actually happening, you’re actually going to let him come in with you. You unzip your purse and begin fishing for your apartment key, feeling the nerves beginning to bubble up already.
“Y/N,” he mutters.
“Hm?” your eyes flick to him, still astounding your senses with every glance.
“Now is your last chance to tell me to go home. I’ll walk you to your door, and we can call it a night,” he says with sincerity. Damn, how sweet of him to offer. But can’t he tell that you’re nearing the edge of becoming weak for him? The tension is thick, he must really be a true gentleman to not play into it.
Gotta drive it home.
You lean over the arm rest, bringing yourself into his orbit again. Your faces are close, almost close enough to touch, but you stop short for just long enough to speak. “I don’t want you to go home, Jake.”
You can feel his lips smiling against yours as he finally presses them to you, so soft at first you’re sure you might be imagining it all. It’s subtle and sweet, and almost too soft in comparison to what his hand was doing to your thigh just minutes ago, but you don’t dare stop him from deepening the kiss just a little.
His hand comes up to cup your jaw, and you feel the tingle of anticipation radiate through your body like sparks. His tongue isn’t begging to explore you just yet, instead he softly runs it along your bottom lip every few seconds as he tests the waters. Your hands feel like they need to move, need to touch, so you mimic his actions, grabbing onto the back of his neck as you part your lips just a little.
Everything feels so dreamy… the soft but bluesy music coming through his car speakers, the brushing of his thumb across your cheek as he tastes you, the fog beginning to coat the insides of the windows…
It’s silent in the car, but your heartbeat in your ears is deafening. “Alright then,” he says as he pulls away for just a second long enough to balance his forehead to yours. “Invite me in.”
You smile as he sits waiting for you to speak, and you take a second to really look into his eyes, still just as dire as they were earlier. You bite your lips together, tasting him on you. “Come upstairs with me,” you demand.
He shuts off the engine and pulls the key, shoving his door open. “Wait,” he says, stopping you from doing the same. “Let me.”
You roll your eyes as you watch him hop around the front of the car, still charmed by his gentlemanly theme for the evening. “How kind of you, good sir,” you jest as he holds his hand out for you to take.
He chuckles. “What, is this weird or something?” he asks, motioning towards the car door.
You shake your head. “I’ve never had someone do that for me, is all.” He holds his hand out and you take it, stepping softly onto the concrete below you.
When you stand he doesn’t let your hand go, but instead he pulls it up to him, kissing the back of it. “Seems like that isn’t gonna be the last time you say that, tonight.” He smirks to himself as you feel another rush of nerves roll through you, eager to see what he has in store for you.
He follows you to the stairs and you lead him up to the third floor, the both of you stopping for a second when you reach the end of the balcony. “This is me… all the way on the end,” you say, fiddling with the key in your hand. You turn back to Jake who has his hands stuffed in the pockets of his dark jeans, his hair rustling softly over his face as the breeze hits it.
You stick the key into the doorknob and begin to twist it, but you stop short when you feel a sensation on the back of your neck. It’s gentle and almost ticklish, until you feel it turn into something else. Jake’s fingers drift away from your neck and down your arms, and you feel his breath suddenly hot against the column of your neck. You nearly drop the keys in your hand, but you get ahold of yourself, feeling his arms wrapping around your torso.
He squeezes you, the combination of his breath on your neck and the warmth of his body making you dizzy for a second. His lips start off soft but then they begin getting rougher as he lays open-mouthed kisses all the way from your neck to under your ear.
“Mmm,” you laugh a little at the contact, letting your bodyweight fall back onto him. You feel his tongue roll across the sensitive spot on your neck, hot and ravenous as his hands start to drift up underneath your shirt. His fingertips are cold, and the chill of the night sends goosebumps all over your body, but you couldn’t care less. You know that very soon, you’ll be warmer than you can stand. His hands grip at your hips, your stomach, your sides…
“Jake,” you giggle as your eyes roll back. “We’re not even inside yet…”
“Who says we have to start there?” he mumbles in your ear. “If I remember right, you were trying to fuck me in the car, were you not?”
Oh, shit. You feel your cheeks blush at his words, but he’s not wrong. The memory of his hand between your thighs just minutes ago sends another shockwave through you as you picture it again… his fingertips disappearing underneath the hem of your skirt as you tried to fight away your arousal.
“I–I mean…” you scramble for an answer as his hands dig into your sides again, slowly drifting up to the underwire of your bra. “Yeah…” you breathe.
His mouth hasn’t stopped. He’s begun nipping with his teeth, pulling on the skin then kissing the pain away. He already feels unbelievably good, and you can feel the warmth of his body still pressed tightly to yours, warming you up exponentially.
But… you need to feel him closer.
You leave the key hanging in the doorknob and you turn around to face him, watching as his eyes go from fed to famished. In less than a second, your arms are wrapped around his neck, pulling him in so closely that he almost stumbles. Your lips attach to his in a heated rush, and you feel yourself become entranced with the idea of him all over again. How he looks, how he feels… all of it overwhelming you as his hands grip at your hips again, pulling you into him.
Your back hits the unopened door with a thud and you feel his arms enclose around you, his palms pressed tightly to the doorframe. “You still want to wait until we get inside?” he growls before delving his tongue against yours. Your entire body is raging with desire for him, and you know that if he doesn’t touch you soon, you may just be forced to do it yourself.
“No,” you answer honestly when you break for air. “No, I don’t care, just–”
Suddenly his hand is right back where you wanted it. He’s pulling up at your skirt as his hand searches again, and you step your legs apart just a little to give him better access. You feel yourself already dripping for him, and the flash of embarrassment of being outdoors pulls you away but only for a second, as his fingers are toying with the edge of your pantyline.
“Just what?” he asks, his mouth diving back to the side of your neck. But you can’t form a thought. Hell, you can’t even remind yourself to breathe as his fingers tease you, tickling over your thong-covered clit. You know he can tell you’re already wet, but you take him to be the kind of guy who will love the way you’re reacting to him, instead of the opposite.
“Just touch me,” you blurt out, suddenly sick of his teasing. You can hear him grunt a low laugh through his teeth, his face still buried in your hair. “Please…”
“Goddamn,” he bellows, “already using those insistent commands… Remember, I’m here to prove a point. Here to prove something to you, right?” his lips smack at the skin covering your jugular, and you know for a fact he’s getting off on teasing you.
“Right,” you reply, getting a little bit of your sanity back.
“Right.” He steps back and looks at you straight on, but his hand stays buried between your legs. “So the first thing you need to know, is that most of the time people want to go straight to the last place, right to the finish line. Skipping over the good parts entirely…” his eyes are boring into yours as he begins fiddling his fingers around again, pulling your thong over to the side. His middle finger slips quickly directly through you, stopping finally right on your sweet spot. You gasp at the surprise, and you feel your jaw fall slack as he starts to make little circles.
“People don’t want to take their time, enjoy the build-up… Has that been your past experience?” he asks.
You take a second to think about it, about all your past lovers and how the nights usually went, and you realize that while most of them really were good lays, none of them actually seemed to even care about if you were having a good time, or not. Was it a reflection on your choices of lovers? Yeah, definitely. But you’re young and uncaring of anything serious, so what could you expect?
“For the most part,” you admit to him, stiffening a smile. His finger is working at your clit so expertly your entire body begins to feel loose. Your hands are still resting on his shoulders, but his eyes are still staring harshly at you, looking at you like he’s trying to figure you out.
He clicks his tongue. “Shame,” he mutters, mirroring his earlier statement that other experiences have been a waste of your time. “S’really the best part.”
With that, his middle finger slips inside you, burying itself all the way up to his knuckle. You gasp even more loudly this time, letting go of his shoulders to grab onto the railing behind you. He begins pumping in and out, and you have half a mind to lift your leg over his waist, until you remember you’re outside, and you have neighbors.
“Fuck,” you whisper, giving him a slightly accusing smile. You glance down between you to catch sight of his hand disappearing under your skirt over and over, and you let yourself feel his speed begin to quicken. His pace is deliciously perfect, not too slow and not too fast. He hooks his finger, toying with the spot that you know is there, but he doesn’t spend too much time on it. He pulls his finger out, spending a few seconds collecting your wetness again before slipping back in, searching for the spots that make you react the most.
You grit your jaw tightly together to conceal your sounds, feeling your stomach caving in on itself as you try and welcome the waves of pleasure. New pleasure.
After about thirty seconds, you feel your breath begin to pick up on its own as he hits a particularly sensitive spot, a place inside you that only you have ever dared to hone in on. Your eyes close as you blow a few quick puffs of air, right in time with the hooks of his finger.
“Right there?” he asks, and you can just hear the smirk on his lips.
You nod. “Yeah, right there… don’t stop…” you beg, feeling your chest getting heavy already as you tightly close your eyes. There’s no way he’s already…
Your left hand flies up to cup behind his neck, holding on to him for dear life as you feel a tightness rising up from your belly. Your eyes fly open to look at him, his features shadowed and still as he watches you intently. Your head drops again as another wave rolls through you, begging you to give in to it. Let it have what it wants… until you feel his finger on the bottom of your chin, tilting your head back up to look at him.
“Concentrate,” he says, his voice graveled. “Do you want to cum right now?”
Your stomach caves in on itself again as he stops his finger movement, letting his thumb drift across your already almost-over sensitive clit. Your hands fall back and grip the railing as you lean back a little further, desperate for him to start moving his finger again.
“I want to yeah, but…”
“It’s not the time, is it?” he finishes your sentence, slowly gliding his finger again. You shake your head in agreement. You know that he wants to make this last as long as he possibly can.
You make eye contact again, and you notice that the curves on the edges of his lips permanently curl up a little, all the more adorable in this lighting. You hadn’t even noticed it before.
He slowly removes his hand from you, bringing his finger up. He sticks his tongue out just a little bit, pulling his finger into his mouth. He leaves it for just a second before he pops it off, letting his tongue roll over his lips. “Just as good as I thought you’d be,” he says.
Oh for the love of god… a guy you know from work should not be this attractive…
“You thought?” you press, catching your breath as the light comes back into your eyesight. “You’ve thought of this before?” You can’t help but replay the visual of what you’d just seen him do over and over and over… almost blinding yourself as the replay makes you soak with a whole new rush of desire to watch him do it again.
He’s thought of this before… how you’d taste. So you weren’t crazy. All this time of dreaming about what he would look like with his head between your legs, and now… you get to experience it?
“‘Course I have,” he answers, grabbing the key still stuck in the door and giving it a final twist to let it open. “I see your flirty little glances, Y/N, don’t think I don’t.” Ugh, gross. He’s still just a guy.
Even if he’s just a guy with apparent magic hands…
He holds his hand out for you to walk inside first, and he follows you into your apartment, completely dark save for the light coming into through the cracks in the blinds. You hear him kick his shoes off and you follow suit, and the alcohol that was swimming through you now feels like it's tapering off a bit.
“Flirty glances don’t mean shit when they’re not given back in return,” you retort, letting your hand instinctually run over the countertop as you walk by it.
“Hey,” he laughs with a surrendering tone, “just because you might not catch me doesn’t mean I don’t do it.”
You raise your eyebrows, even though he can’t really see you.
“Plus, nine times out of ten when I give those flirty glances, I’m watching you walk away,” he adds.
“My god, Jake,” you laugh, finding the handle of the kitchen cabinet housing your wine glasses.
“What is it they say? Hate to see you go, love to watch you leave?”
“Shut up,” you giggle again, loving his ability to keep things so lighthearted. “You wanna drink?”
“Nah, I’m okay. But you go ahead,” he says in an almost whisper. You think about it for a second, knowing that more alcohol could make the experience better, but also not trusting enough in it to not completely dull the entire thing.
“I’m good too,” you decide, walking over to flip on the switch of a lamp. It pulls a soft, orange glow over the room, and you glance at Jake as he leans his elbows down onto the countertop. He bites his thumb between his teeth as he lets his eyes drift to you, low and hooded as he takes you in again. God, what good deed did you do to get this man into your house? Let alone to get him to look at you like that?
“Are you undressing me with your eyes, Jacob?” you ask, resting a hand on your hip.
“Maybe,” he stifles a laugh. “Actually, yeah. Yeah, I am,” he says, standing back up to come over to your side of the island. His hand drifts down your arm again, sending another set of chills through you as you take in a deep breath, really smelling his sweet cologne now with the absence of the cold breeze. Your hand grips his neck again as you reconnect your kiss, this time a little more desperately now that you have privacy. You hum into his mouth a little as he bucks his hips into you, and you can feel his length hard already against your stomach.
“And do you like what you imagined?” you ask, pulling away for a second as your hands become a little more rough in their movements.
“Fuckin’ loved it,” he grits, pulling your coat from your shoulders as you let it fall behind you. “Think I’d rather see it in person, though.” You feel his hands grip at the backs of your thighs, pulling you up to hold you for just as second as he twists on his feet, sitting you right on the island. The granite is cold on your skin and it startles you, but you barely have time to complain about it as Jake is attaching his lips to yours, again, hot and just as heavy as before.
He moves forward and stands between your legs, letting his hands rest on your barren thighs again, right below where your skirt has hiked itself up. You take a second to really enjoy the way he is kissing you- with intention, slow and desperate as you feel him fight for his own breath. You’ve never been kissed like this before, not with this much feeling and intensity. This much pure instinct. You wonder if this is how it’s supposed to feel, or if the chemistry that is blooming between the two of you is finally just finding its footing. Either way, it’s leaving you feeling drunker than you were when you left the party.
Your hand comes up to hold his cheek as he concentrates on nothing but the kiss, and you feel a tinge of something else flutter in your chest. If you didn’t know any better, you’d dare to say that he really does actually care about this, about you. And you wonder why he is even wasting his time with it all.
Suddenly you feel a little bit exposed, a little bit like you shouldn’t be doing this. There’s no way that the hottest guy at work is here, in your home, paying so much special attention to you that you feel dizzy. Is this a joke?
“Get out of your head, Y/N,” he speaks up, breaking you from your train of thought.
“What do you mean?” you ask, your hand still balanced on his cheek as your mind finds you again. Your heart rate soars at the thought of him catching on to you so quickly.
“You’re thinking too much, I can tell. Everything okay?”
You nod. “Yeah, everything– everything is fine. I’m fine. Just–” You try to breathe it all away and tell yourself to forget all the worried thoughts running through your head, flashing like distracting traffic lights on a rainy night. If he didn’t want to be here, he wouldn’t be here, right?
He’s warm when he moves in closer, smiling against your lips, gently biting your bottom lip between his teeth. “I need you to relax, just enjoy… there’s no reason for you to get worked up. This… this feels good, right?” His voice is different now, in these close quarters. You’re used to the semi-professional one he uses at work, but hearing him use this gritty, wanting tone makes him feel more alluring, like a side of him you’d like to get to know better.
“Yeah, it feels good,” you reassure him with a harsh nod. “Are you…?”
“You’re damn right I am,” he laughs as though your question was ridiculous. “How could I not be? Been wanting a taste of you for weeks…” Suddenly he grips your legs again and pulls you toward him, your ass almost hanging off the edge of the counter. He presses himself inward again, making your entire body shudder with an almost obvious flood of want. You hum at the touch, making him crack a self-satisfied smile that causes your insides to lurch with anticipation.
His hands are on your hips, his fingertips pressing hard into the skin as they dip below the waist of your skirt. Quickly, they find your panties, snapping the stretchy fabric of them against you. “Those are cute,” he grits.
Your eyebrows furrow. “How do you know? You can’t even see them,” you retort.
Suddenly he pulls back a bit, gently pressing his hands to your shoulders. “You’re right, I can’t. Y’wanna help me with that?”
He uses light force to press you backward onto the cold countertop, knocking a few random items sideways as your lower back connects with it. Your knees shoot up as you try and balance yourself, squealing a little at the sudden change in movement. “Jake, what the-” His hands are now on the insides of your knees, his fingernails lightly scratching at the skin of the insides of your legs.
“Mmm, see? I was right. They are cute,” he growls, his deep brown irises flashing back between you and between your legs. You feel the slightest tinge of embarrassment, but it dissipates when you realize how confident he is still being. He wants all of this.
“If you want to call a bright pink thong cute, I guess…” you say.
“It’s silk…” he hums, the barely-there touch of his fingertips now dipping lower, brushing over the soft fabric, right above your already-soaked center.
“Satin,” you correct him. “There’s a big difference.”
You hear him huff a laugh through his nose as his fingers still gently explore, the touch of his hand between your thighs making your head swim again.
“You know, you don’t always have to be so right all the time… It’s okay to just be a little bit wrong on some things,” he says, the pressure increasing just slightly as you relax up onto your elbows. His free hand still stays balanced on your bent knee, and this visual of him sprawling you out in the darkness makes you want to keep the image of his silhouette tucked in the back rooms of your mind for the rest of eternity.
Your mind was so caught up in the scene that you had to mentally repeat what he’d said. “What’s that supposed to mean? You calling me a prude, or something?”
“Nonono, no. Not a prude. You just… always seem so caught up on the little things. The details. Sometimes it seems like you lose sight of the big picture… what’s right in front of you. You act on facts instead of instinct,” he says matter of factly, using his free hand to pull your knees apart just a little more.
“Who-who says facts are a… bad thing?” you stammer, the pleasure of the indirect contact of his fingers sending sweet surges of pleasure through your body.
He giggles a little. “No one does. I can sometimes just tell you.. You know. Take the phrase ‘mind over matter’ a little too literally. Mind is what can handicap you…” He slips his fingers along the inner hemline of your satin thong, pulling it to the side just barely as he slips his fingers between your folds again, effortlessly sending you into a fit of satisfaction. “Matter is…well. Natural.”
“Natural,” you repeat, letting your head fall back to rest on the granite.
“S’right…” he hisses, letting his fingers go to work again as the room falls silent. You let his words sink in a little, realizing that you guess he could be right, though you weren’t very sure if he was pointing out one of your biggest character flaws, or if he was helping you to realize that maybe your busied mind is what has been your biggest roadblock in the reason he is here, to begin with.
“So, m’gonna do what feels natural to me, right now… if that’s alright with you,” he says as he bites his lower lip between his teeth. His eyes flit to your center again before meeting back with yours, intense and dreamy as you realize what he’s intending.
“Ah, yeah… it’s alright with me,” you reply, gathering your shirt up into one of your fists as you watch him grip the bill of his hat, pulling it off to toss it onto the countertop beside him. The barely-there light hits his face now and illuminates it, his features now free of the shadows. He bends down low and places more kisses along the insides of your thighs, making your back arch into his touch. You hear him huff through his nose, taking note of your reactions.
“Y’sure?”
You feel his tongue reach out, warm and soft as his hands stay gripped under your thighs, brushing over the fabric of your underwear. Fuck fuck fuck. It’s been a while since someone paid this kind of attention to you.
“Positive,” you bark, feeling yourself beginning to drip down onto the cold counter.
He wastes no time. His mouth is clamped over your heat, his teeth barely biting at the thin fabric as he lets the indirect contact of it tease you, pulling it from side to side with his incisors as the sharp sensations overtake your mind. You feel yourself inhale from the contact before he hooks a finger into your thong, pulling it to the side to finally make the contact you’d both been waiting for.
“Oh my god,” you gasp as his tongue slides all the way through you, hurried but patient all at the same time. It’s as if he’s been waiting for this, waiting to taste you just as much as you’d let those thoughts plague you those nights you lay alone in bed.
His fingers grip into your muscles as you hear him groan a little, obviously already enjoying it. “Fuck, you’re so good…” he whispers, almost to himself. “Like honey, baby...”
Your head shoots back as you feel him shake his own side to side, giving himself more space and the room to delve more deeply into you. Your back alternates between arching and falling, your body reacting on its own as your mind becomes flooded with thoughts of the situation at hand. It’s pure elation, pure perfection. You’d be willing to bargain that this was his forte, the one skill he’s owned since he started into adulthood.
Your chest shudders with noises that you’ve never made for anyone else ever before, and your hand instinctively reaches up to grip his hair still in its knot, pulling at the strands as you feel his tongue enter you, warm and soaking wet.
“Jake, fuck,” you cry, your body caving in as your muscles shake with undeniable pleasure. His tongue darts in and out as it makes circles, and you feel his finger come up to toy with your clit as he does so. The notion of being too exposed has flown out the window as the dark, shrouded instinct of carnal satisfaction begins to overtake you, a feeling that you’ve only ever felt maybe twice in your life. That pull and draw to the one sharing pleasure with you, the humanistic need to let the rest of the world fall away.
You grip the back of his neck to pull him closer, eliciting a small growled laugh from him. You can’t help it, you need to continue this feeling.
Suddenly he switches his actions as he removes his tongue and replaces it with his finger, already reaching itself as far into you as it can go. His lips pucker over your clit as he sucks it in harshly, making your entire world go black. Wait, no, that’s two fingers. He’s pumping them in and out at a disgustingly perfect pace as his lips work at your most sensitive spot.
“Oh my god oh my god,” you breathe, gripping the hair at the nape of his neck as you bend up to watch him. His eyes meet yours for a split second as you realize the complete inappropriateness of the sounds bouncing off your kitchen walls. But he’s determined, so he keeps going.
The mixture of all the action is driving you insane, but still yet, the finish line seems so far away, and so out of reach. It’s an aggravation you’ve become accustomed to, at this point. But you have to admit, the way he feels is already more than enough to satisfy your cravings.
Just as you begin to get in your head again, he stops, standing tall over you as he wipes his lips with the back of his hand. “There you go again, hm?” he accuses you, pushing the insides of your knees down to the counter. “You gotta stop that shit, Y/N.”
His aggravated tone flicks a spark somewhere deep inside you, but it goes out the second you see the disappointment on his face.
“Not doing yourself any favors by letting your wheels turn while you’ve got someone’s face between your legs,” he says, offering you a hand to help you sit up.
Your eyes bulge from your head as you take it, feeling a little slighted by his remark.
“I can’t–I don’t know how to turn it off. It just… happens,” you complain as he lovingly brushes the hair from your face.
“Were you close?” he asks.
“Yeah, I… I think I really was,” you admit honestly.
“Good. Progress.”
The next thing you know, he’s lifting you again, but this time he’s walking you through the hallways of your home in search of the next place.
“Jake!” you giggle as you hold onto him tightly.
“Where’s your bedroom?” he asks, stopping short in the center of your living area.
“Just keep going straight,” you say with a tilt of your head.
He follows your instruction as he paces you backward, awkwardly knocking into the doorframes in the darkness. You can’t help but smile at his true dedication to this, to all of this, and how determined he is to make sure he holds up his end of the deal.
He plops you down onto your bed, the rush of the scent of your laundry detergent instantly bringing you back to a comforting headspace, making your quickened heartbeat slow just a little. You perk up a little as you crane your neck up to him, still feeling a pull to be near him. He stands with his knees against the mattress, his fingertips gently cupping under your chin to lift your lips to meet his again.
You can taste yourself on him, and you can feel the prickles of his mustache working against your lips. It’s uncomfortable, but you welcome it; it’s as if the feeling is already turned into something nurturing for you. Simply because it's from a man who, seemingly, truly cares.
It’s quiet in the room, and normally you’d feel self-conscious about it. But as of now, you couldn’t feel more comfortable. He’s peppering you with sweet kisses, letting some linger and some feather across your skin as if he’s trying to appreciate you in ways that, honestly, feel a bit intimate given your relatively short relationship with him.
But you don’t stop him; doing so would take away from the way his lips feel on your neck, and the way his hair tickles at your chest. You let light giggles fall from your lips as you realize he’s not only extremely well-versed in bed, so it seems.. But also, he’s playful.
Finally he stands and a deep, aggravated growl emanates from his chest as he pulls his hoodie over his head and drops it to the floor. His t-shirt goes with it, leaving him standing in only his jeans.
Fuck, you think, realizing this is the first time you’ve seen him shirtless. Even in the darkness, digging your teeth into his sides feels like the only logical move to make at the moment.
But you’re stopped short when he reaches for his belt buckle and quickly undoes it, leaving it hanging open with his hand on the button and zipper.
“Still okay, gorgeous?” he asks, again running his fingers under your chin as if the whole thing is just part of a routine.
“Mhm,” you reply as his knee comes to sit between your legs on the edge of the bed. “You still good?”
“Better than good,” he says, running his hands along your arms. His fingers catch at the bottom hem of your shirt, slowly pulling at it to lift it graciously over your head. “Mmm,” he hums, his eyes scanning over you like you’re made of pure gold. “Gonna be hard to take my time with you…”
You feel exposed as the chilly air sends bumps all over your chest and arms, immediately making your nipples swell to attention behind your bralette. That, and the way his eyes are devouring you like a meal has your head spinning again. It’s never been this easy, before…
“Who says you have to?” you ask before you can even think the words through. You lean back onto your elbows again, fully expecting his knees to hit the floor. “Take them off…” you demand, looking to his hands still rested on his jeans button. Your want for him has completely overtaken your ability to make clear judgments. The thrill of it all is not only making you just want to fuck, it’s making you not even care if you get off anymore, at all. Clouded judgment is an understatement.
He pauses for only a second before doing as you ask and pulling his button and zipper free. He steps from them and lets them hit the floor, and the vision of him standing in front of you, and the vision of him behind his gray boxers makes your breath hitch. You want to reach out and touch it, touch him. But he stops you, instead placing one hand on the side of your hip.
“Turn over for me, lay on your stomach,” he demands, reaching first for a pillow to tuck underneath you. You don’t question it, but instead you do as he asks, suddenly feeling a little exposed again as your bare ass is in his line of view.
Immediately, his hands are kneading over the muscles of the backs of your thighs, massaging at your hips and down into your shins. He doesn’t work quickly- instead he takes his time, soothing the tight muscles and sending your oxytocin release into overdrive. The relaxation sneaks up on you like sleep to a baby… slow at first before the sensations overtake you completely, letting your muscles relax all the way into a state of pure decompression.
“Your hands really are magic,” you mumble with your face against the mattress, groggy and peaceful.
You hear his hearty laugh, and you can tell the compliment takes him by surprise. “Nah, just trying to get you through all the motions… like I said, the build up is the best part.”
You don’t answer, fully understanding what he means, and how he means it. He wants you to get the full effect, and if sending your body into a melted puddle on the bed is part of it, then so be it.
“You relaxed?” he asks quietly after another minute or two.
“Very… verrrryy…” you sleepily moan as his hands keep kneading at the swell of your ass.
“Good,” he bites, letting his hands drift up underneath you, pulling your hips up higher on the pillow. Your back is almost fully arched, and you let him position you right where he wants you, even though your mind has woken up a bit at the change of position. Oh fuck… it might be time for…
Your muscles are so relaxed that you feel like putty, soft and loose as his strong hands remind you that he is in charge, tonight. The pillow is the only thing holding you up, at this point.
He pulls at your thong and you let him, feeling the slick material float down your thighs. You’re so relaxed that you’d probably let him do anything he wanted, at this point.
“Fuckin’ beautiful,” he says, and you can hear the softness in his voice. You feel his mouth on you again as he licks you from behind, sending a surprised jolt of pleasure back through your bones. His hands remain gripped on your hips as he pulls you back, letting his tongue begin to devour you all over again.
“God damnit,” you moan, twisting to bury your face into the blankets. You feel yourself backing up onto his face as he pulls you in closer, his tongue completely buried deep inside you, again. Your fists tighten up as you grip the sheets, your mind leaving it’s relaxed state as pleasure rips though you again.
He continues this way for a while, moaning onto your clit as the vibrations nearly kill you. You feel your whole body shaking, willing itself to stay in this position as he licks, slowly and with intent. He reaches up and pulls your hands to your sides, holding onto them tightly as he pulls your whole body, bent in half, closer to him.
“Fuckkkk…” you cry again as your legs begin to jerk, your eyes nearly watering with how badly your body wants to come undone. You feel like a tightly wound cord, waiting to snap and explode at any given second, had only you let it. Your fingers and toes feel tingly, and your mind goes dark, and it’s then that you know… this is the closest you’ve been, yet.
But he lets go of your hands and pulls away, standing back up to reposition himself for whatever the hell he has planned next. The disconnection is deathly, and you’re sure you could cuss him to world’s end, right about now. You let out a loud, dissatisfied growl in protest.
“Ha, left you hanging, did I?” he asks breathlessly, his hands returning to knead at your hips again.
“Yeah, fuck… why…?” you ask in succession, fully annoyed.
Suddenly his mouth is on your ear, biting at the shell of it as he growls through his words. “Any motherfucker can get you off with their hands… their mouth… But I can’t reach your sweet spot the way you want me to with those now, can I?”
You choke a moan as he breathes hot air into your ear, his bare, already sweaty chest pressed against your back. You’re hissing at the light pain from his lovebites to your neck, your shoulder… Pleasure already returning full force. “No… I–I don’t guess so…”
“Right,” he blurts, pulling back to stand again, taking your hips with him.
“Doggy style, Jake? Is that really what we’re gonna do right now?” you giggle, lighthearted as you tease his choice of position.
“No, love. Not quite…” Then his hands are on your hips again, pressing you gently down onto the bed. “A modified version, maybe…”
Instinctually, you want to return back to the position he had you in first, spreading your knees as far apart as you can while arching your back into a perfect angle, but you hesitate. Your body wants to instinctually move, to arch, but still yet, he presses you back down.
You feel his hands pulling your legs apart, positioning them so that they almost shape into a diamond. You’re confused, no one has ever wanted you like this before. But still yet, you let him.
All at once, a thought pops into your mind. “Jake… I haven’t even touched you tonight,” you mutter, suddenly feeling as though you should have helped him along with his end of the process. “Let me–”
“This isn’t about me, sweetheart,” he says, and you feel the head of his dick slide through your folds, nearly taking all the breath directly from your lungs. “Just watching you tonight has been enough to get me there… wanted you for so long now…” he keeps the sweet little praises coming as you feel yourself dripping again, so fully and entirely turned on by the feeling of him pressing against you that you can hardly hear yourself think.
He brushes across your entrance, and you feel your walls twitch, your body literally begging him to enter.
“Mhm, that’s what we’re looking for,” he says, letting himself tease you with the head of his cock an inch at a time, for a second at a time, before slowly pulling back out again. “Do that again, baby…”
Your walls twitch on their own again, the muscles tightening as he passes by your entrance, his movements slow but so, so deviously intentional. “Mmmm,” he growls with tight lips, almost as if he is holding himself back.
“Jake please…” you beg, your voice cracked and whiny now as your hips begin swirling on their own, looking for anything that can give you some relief. You feel like you could go mad with anticipation, your vision already blurred with intense want. Your heart is pounding at an ungodly rate, your face feels flushed and fiery hot, and every muscle in your body is writhing and twisting with need for him. For him to stretch you at his own delicious pace. For him to fill you.
“You ready, baby,” he says more than asks, and you nod your head hard.
“Yes, yes Jake, please…” you cry, your fists still gripped tightly into the sheets below you. Your entire world is buzzing, loud and dizzy as want has taken over, your body now at the complete and total mercy of him.
“Start the clock,” he says, and you’re reminded… two minutes.
You instinctively glance at the clock on the wall, the second hand floating around the face as you take note of the time, and remember the silly bargain that got you here in the first place. It’s then that you realize that maybe, just maybe, he might make this happen for you.
You gasp, your breath stopped in its tracks as you feel him enter you completely, pressing in until he physically can’t anymore. He stops there, letting you adjust, but if it weren’t for there being no air in your lungs, you’d have screamed out loud for him to move.
He pulls back out, his cock gliding slowly across your walls as you feel every single inch of him, every single delicious fucking inch, before he slowly presses back inside again.
“Breathe, baby,” he coaxes, pulling the hair away from the back of your neck. “You okay?”
“Mmmh-” is all you can manage as the pleasure is already blinding you, taking away every sense you have and overtaking you completely.
“You feel fucking perfect…”
1:30
You let oxygen re-enter your lungs as he slowly picks up a pace, pounding into you from behind, one hand on the bed, and one hand still gripped tightly on your ass. You can hear the sounds bouncing off the walls, wet and wanting as each entrance he makes feels more delicious than the last. This can’t be real…
Your breaths pick up as you get used to the feeling of him, his size more perfect than anything you’ve ever felt.
“You alright?” he asks, still slowly thrusting. “Tell me about it…”
“Perfect, fuck, you’re–”
The noises you start to make come on their own as sweet shockwaves ripple their way through your body like wind whipping across a lake, gentle but yet so entirely powerful. You wish that you could see him, look into his eyes as he reaches deeper and deeper inside, but you know that he has a mission to complete. And honestly, so do you.
He begins to whip his hips, pausing for just a second each time he reaches the hilt, letting you feel that place deep inside you be contacted again and again.
“You feel it, baby? Am I there?” he asks, his voice becoming more and more strained as time passes. “Talk to me.”
“Yes, god, you’re there,” you answer honestly, your face still buried in the thick comforter. “I feel you… I–”
You’d never experienced this type of pleasure before. Never had someone pay this much attention to the way that you felt… cared so much about if you were enjoying yourself, too. You knew that Jake had taken the time to feel you out, learn how you tick, all in the span of one night. You knew deep down that this wasn’t just a challenge for him. And you knew deep down that you were going to finally get off by the hand of someone else tonight.
1:00
Suddenly he picks up the pace, turning himself just slightly to the side to free up his right hand. You feel him pull you back a little and slot his hand underneath you, searching for the places he’s had his hands all night.
His hand finds your heat as he continues his thrusts, hard and heavy now as his body weight presses against your back. His fingers pull your folds apart, and all at once, his middle finger is quickly swirling your clit.
Holy. Fucking shit.
“Ohh, fuck–” you groan, the mixture of pleasures now sending your entire body into overdrive. All thoughts leave. All breath is gone. All visions of the room around you turn into a blur of shadows and colors. All you can hear is his sweet whispers in your ear, and all you can feel is his body resting on yours. Fully and completely, you’re not sure if you’re going to ever come back down to earth.
“That’s right baby… so sweet for me…” he whispers, gently kissing your ear as you pitifully pout into the mattress. His finger is still working you, making your muscles shake and shiver as you feel your eyes beginning to roll back into your head.
Nothing has ever felt like this. Nothing has ever felt this good.
“Close your legs,” Jake spits, and you do, thus making yourself that much tighter for him.
“Motherfuck, Y/N…” he breathes loudly, and you take the opportunity to squeeze him even more. “God you’re fucking tight…”
You can feel him entering you even more so now, after tightening in around him. The slaps of your own wetness almost make you cringe, but somehow it spurs you on, knowing that he is loving it all just as much as you are.
His mouth is on your ear again, biting at your jawline. His hand leaves your heat for just a second as he slaps it across your ass, eliciting a small choke from you. “Soaked, baby… all for me…”
:30
You feel your brows furrow as you feel a jolt of electricity rush through you when he replaces his hand, this time honing in on your clit even more. “Oh fuck Jake yes… yes right there…” you cry out, your mouth dry and your muscles tense as you feel it… a new sense of pleasure that you have never been blessed with…
He keeps his pace exactly where it is, no faster and no slower as you feel your body begin to crush in on itself. It’s as if the cosmos stop burning, and the oceans freeze, waiting with bated breath for you to get there. You feel yourself climbing the hill, searching for the peak of the mountain you’ve never visited. It’s so close you can taste it…
His thrusts are becoming more pointed as he works, the cries leaving your chest now nearly embarrassing, but you couldn’t stop them if you tried. Harder, faster, deeper you fall into oblivion, not even caring that the world around has seemed to stop.
“Come on, baby… let me have it…” Jake begs, biting onto your shoulder and sucking the skin between his lips. “You’re so close I can feel you… let it go…”
:10
Finally, like a heatwave and snowstorm, your body finally lets go, pleasure and bliss wracking through you in harsh, inundating waves. You cry out, but only for a second as your eyes clench shut, your body completely shutting down as you experience the first real, double orgasm of your entire life.
“Breathe through it, baby… don’t hold on to your breath… I got you…” you hear Jake’s advice through clouded sound. So you do… tiny, short bits of oxygen pulled in as your body shakes and trembles through it, entirely surreal and fixated on everything that is happening to it.
Lights flash behind your eyelids, your chest beams with carnal satisfaction… stars sparkle as you begin to catch your breath, not wanting to ever let go of the feeling.
You finally feel yourself slowly coming back down to earth, your body floating through time and space like ashes from a fire. Your eyes adjust back to the low light, and you still feel Jake buried deep inside you, his hand now gently cupping over your heat as if to comfort it. He rolls his hand in waves of indirect touch, letting you come back down through the resonant shockwaves.
You can feel him breathing hard still against your back, and you wonder for a second if he is going to finish right behind you.
“Why–why’d you stop? Are you not gonna?” you mumble, your lips and tongue moving as if you don’t know how to use them.
Jake laughs.
“Baby, we just made that happen in two minutes and you’re asking me if I am going to get off, too?” His hand lovingly rubs over your lower back, but he stays buried deep inside you. “I told you, tonight wasn’t about me. ‘S about you…” He leans down and kisses the back of your neck again.
Though your body feels lifeless and floating, and you’re sure you are completely drunk on pleasure, something deep within you ignites. Your chest blooms with something else, and you’re positive if you don’t listen to it, everything will have been for nothing.
You back up, forcing Jake to pull out of you and roll to his side. “What’s wrong, baby?”
You toss the pillow to the side and lie back down on your back, gripping your arms around Jake’s back to pull him on top of you. Your knees fall apart as he falls perfectly between them, a little caught off guard by your actions. His elbows land on either side of your head, placing you face-to-face.
“Fuck me again, Jake… This is about you, too. I want you to remember this night just as well as I will…” You don’t even sound like yourself as the commanding words escape you, demanding and sultry as you reach down between you, taking his still-hard cock in your hand.
His eyes falter at your touch as you begin stroking him, hard and fast as you position his head right against your still-soaked entrance, again. His body tenses at the contact.
“Oh my god, Y/N, are you sure? We–we don’t have to–”
“I said do it again, Jake,” you demand. “Please…I wanna see you, feel you…”
He growls through a clenched jaw, shaking his head in disbelief as he props himself up on his hands, towering over you. “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me, you know that?”
“Hope not,” you say, taking your hand around him and pulling him straight into you again, letting his hips falter a little as he re-enters you.
He blows out a puff of air as he shakes his head side to side again, his brows furrowing hard as he starts a pace.
“What’s wrong?” you laugh a little, confused by his expression.
“Nothin’,” he grits. “Nothing at fucking all, that’s the problem.”
“Problem?” you ask as he thrusts hard, sending your head up higher onto the bed. Your arms wrap around his neck.
He growls. “Yeah, I… I normally just… ya know. Hook up. But this…” he trails off, lowering his head to kiss along your jawline. You slot the bend of your left leg through the crook of your arm, pulling it up to your chest to give him better access.
“This what?” you ask, digging your nails into his back when you feel another particularly sharp jolt of pleasure.
His head pops back up to look at you, nearly all of his hair now fallen from the knot at his neck. His face is flushed and his eyes are heavy, full of something other than what you expected. And in the moment, he is without a doubt, the most beautiful creature you’ve ever laid your eyes on.
Your chest blossoms when his eyes meet yours, deeper than anything you’d seen in a long time.
He hesitates for just a second before gently pressing his lips to yours, bringing you in for the most intense kiss you’ve shared, yet. It’s as if he’s trying to talk, trying to explain everything that he can’t say with words, showing you, rather than telling you. Your tongues wrestle with one another as he moans through them, obviously still getting closer to his own release as the minutes tick past.
Finally he pulls away to speak, his forehead balanced sweetly on yours. “This is something I could stay here and do… over and over again… night after night after night…” he licks his lips, huffing through his nose as he continues his deep, slow thrusts. “Only if I can hear you let go like that again… for me…”
You nod as your hands come up to clutch his jawline, nodding in response as he backs up a little bit, kneeling now as he pulls his hands under your hips. He runs them along your legs as he uses them for leverage, still fucking slowly into you as if his life depends on it.
Finally, you work up the courage to speak. “I think I want you to come over again tomorrow,” you offer with a teasing smile. He grins, letting his head fall back as you place your hands on his shoulders, pulling yourself up and pushing him back to sit on his lap.
Still buried deep inside you, he can no longer thrust, so you take over, gently swirling your hips in figure-8’s with the help of his hands guiding your movements. “Fuck, you don’t know how good you feel…” he says, exhaling hard as he maneuvers himself back down to sitting.
He sits with his legs outstretched, your hips still grinding on him with a sickening pace that is taking his every ability to think straight. “Swear to god I had to try so hard… had to hold it in…”
You let your hand brush sweetly along his cheek and down his shoulder, digging your nails into his traps as you work not only him up to where he wants to be, but you yourself, too. You feel the knot tightening again in your stomach, catching you off guard as the pleasure comes back full force, almost knocking you off of him as you feel yourself begin to clench.
“Don’t hold it in now, Jake,” you breathe, still swirling your hips. You can feel the friction against your clit, pulsing and begging for another reason to let go, again. “I’m close again, too…”
“God, yeah, baby..” he grits as your nails dig into him again, your eyes already blinding as the second orgasm rushes up to the forefront with hardly any warning. “Give it to me again… You’re so fuckin–”
He leans back on one hand while the other comes up to wrap around your neck, gently squeezing as you lean in to kiss him again, clawing and gripping at any and all parts of his body that you can get your hands on.
Your moans are high-pitched, your cries are loud, and the second world-shattering release hits you like a freight train, hot and wild and tremoring as you hear him tell you he’s right there too, his voice a mix of guttural gasps and praises for all the ways that you feel on him.
After you’ve both landed again, you stare at one another in disbelief, jaws slack and eyes wide as neither of you can fathom how good the other one feels, and how well, surprisingly, you fit together.
Jake laughs through the side of his mouth as he pulls strands of hair stuck to the sweat on your face, his mouth moving a hundred different ways as if he’s looking for the right words to say.
You take his hand in yours, threading your fingers together as you bring the back of his palm up to kiss. Everything about it feels right.
“I think I definitely want you to come over again tomorrow.”
He laughs. “I think I can arrange that. You gonna tell everybody at work how I was the first one to ever make you come?”
You slap a light hand across his chest. “Maybe. Maybe not. Fuckin’ cocky ass.”
He shrugs. “Hey, maybe you’re right. Then I’d have every single woman there calling me on my days off.”
“Ah! Jake!” you squeal. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you in close.
“I’m just kidding, just kidding. I like this. This feels… right. Nice,” he admits, burying his face in your hair as if he is embarrassed to say it. You feel him take a deep breath, and you follow suit, memorizing the smell of him as you relax into his embrace.
“Nice,” you agree, giving him an extra tight squeeze. “I could get used to that.”
+ Reader is faced with making a decision that she didn't anticipate when she left the bar, one night. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, she refuses to end her night on a bad note.
+ Hello friends! Tomorrow is my birthday, so I decided to gift you all with a little sum sum Danny and Jake. This story spawned from an idea @moonlightisdancing so graciously shared with me, so hopefully I did it justice ;) Enjoyyyyy
Y/N being a little heaux / Asshole Danny (I'm sorry don't k!ll me)
Smut: Kissing, Heavy Flirting, Dirty Talk, Touching, Penetrative Sex, Unprotected Sex, Fingering, Oral Sex (M! and F! Receiving)
“Let’s get the fuck out of here, huh?” Danny says into your ear, his breath hot and spiced with the scent of dark rum as it melts you into a puddle of nothing on the floor. His hands are placed lightly on your hips, holding you up steady as your group of friends begins making its way toward the exit of the crowded club.
“Mhmm,” you nod, your hair falling in front of your face as you fight the urge to arch your back into him. Your eyes have begun to blur on their own, the alcohol and the atmosphere seeping into your system in the most delicious way. Your body begs you to let him know that the feeling is mutual, but before you can, he pulls away, sliding his phone out of his pocket as he sips down the very last of his icy drink.
“I’ll order an uber,” he says, crunching on a piece of ice as his eyes drift from your face all the way down to the black strapped heels you’d chosen tonight.
“Bitch, you’re drunk,” your best friend Jasmine giggles in your ear, taking the place of Danny as she grabs your hand in hers, still halfway dancing as she pulls you toward the doors.
“I’m not, Jas,” you laugh, wishing that you hadn’t worn these high heels. “I mean I am, I’m just… I think I’m more exhausted than anything. I haven’t danced that much in years.”
Her hand is reassuring in yours as she guides the two of you, her own unsteadiness on her feet making you laugh.
“Yeah, exhausted from eye-fucking Jake all night,” she squeals.
“Jasmine!” you yell, your eyes wide as your stomach drops, hoping that none of the other members in your group heard her. You stop the two of you and yank her hand from yours, gritting your teeth as you scold her. “I was not eye-fucking Jake. And you know that.”
“Sure babe, keep telling yourself that,” she raises her eyebrows. “My vision might be blurry, but I’m not blind.”
It’s pretty widely known within your circle that you and Danny have something going on, that something being more of a situationship with no actual boundaries or titles or anything. The two of you usually ended up making out at the end of the night, a little touching and whatnot, but it has never gone further than that. Neither of you are in the market for anything serious, so you’ve taken to letting him be your go-to on those lonely late nights, sending him risqué photos of you in the mirror after a few glasses of wine.
But Jake… Jake has been your good friend since college. The guy that was always there to accompany you to social events, pick you up from parties, and cram last minute for exams with you. He’d always been that guy you could call on for anything and everything, the one you felt completely comfortable with in any situation.
“Just admit it, dummy,” Jasmine belts as you near the crowded exit doors, her arm in yours.
“There’s nothing to admit,” you whisper. “I mean…look at him, he looks completely fuckable tonight, so I took a few glances. Sue me.” You roll your eyes at her as you watch her gaze covertly float back to Jake, standing amongst the rest of your group.
“God, you’re right. He’s been looking exceptionally delicious lately, hasn’t he?” she purrs.
“Mmmhm…” you agree, making sure not to look at him.
It’s true, though Jake has always been good looking, lately there has been something special about him, something magnified in his persona, something devious in his aura. He’s changed up his attire a little, now donning sleek suit jackets and silver jewelry on his wrists and neck, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t prefer the way he’s been slicking his hair back into a tight knot at his neck. Over the past few months he’s become a lot more sophisticated and sure of himself, a complete 180 from the silly guy you never thought twice about.
Lately he has seemed so much more confident in himself, and it literally drips from him. He’s sexy in his own way, that’s for damn sure, but these past few months you’ve caught yourself looking at him for longer than a few seconds, staring at his hands as he did literally anything, and finding yourself swept up in the way his lips danced across his teeth. And if it weren’t for Danny occupying most of your thoughts lately, you may actually picture Jake in those dirty daydreams, instead of him.
As conversation takes a pause you do sneak a glance at Jake, his elbow leaned against the bar with the other tucked away in his pocket. He’s eyeing you hard, and he doesn’t make any attempt to look away when you catch him. Fuck, he looks so goddamned good tonight. But why isn’t he looking away?
You feel your stomach muscles tense just from the way his hooded eyes are staring you down, confident and obvious as he chews on the tiny black straw that once stirred his whiskey rocks. Fuck, fuck, fuck! He’s fine… he’s so fine. Jake. Friend Jake. Friend Jake?
“What I wouldn’t give to experience a good old fashioned romp with him, though,” Jasmine says, breaking the stare-down you and Jake had caught yourselves in.
“Huh?” you say. “Danny?”
“Yes bitch. His long arms, his big hands… mmh. You lucky, lucky dog, being his sneaky link,” Jasmine goes on.
“Jas, we haven’t even slept together, yet,” you admit quietly.
She looks at you in disbelief. “Are you serious?! Why?”
You shrug. “Just.. hasn’t happened yet, I guess.”
“It’s going to though, right?” she asks, and you know she just wants to live vicariously.
You look back at her, knowing that yes, it most likely will, but you’re also not here for rushing it with him. Why? You’re not sure…
“Uber will be here in ten,” Danny announces as he comes up behind you, his hand resting on your lower back as he takes another bite of the melted ice still floating in the rum in his glass. He leans down, his voice icy and heavy in your ear. “Let’s go to the bathroom,” he slurs. “Just for a minute. Wanna see what you’ve got on underneath your…”
You smile and bring your tongue to your top lip, knowing that sexually, things have been brewing between the two of you for some time now. Though he’s never outwardly asked you if you wanted to hook up for real, you know that given the way things are going, it’s bound to happen at some point.
“The bathroom?” you reiterate, turning your attention to him and wrapping your arms around his neck. God, he smells good. You crane up to whisper in his ear. “Why don’t you just get out of the Uber at my place?”
Danny hisses through his teeth at your proposition, rolling his head back on his neck. Finally he looks back down at you, biting his lip. “You really want me to?”
You consider it for a second, knowing that he is pretty damn intoxicated, and if anything, you might get a shower and some other extracurriculars out of him before he inevitably passes out long-ways on your bed. “Yeah, why not? Or your place, whatever.” You figured you’d give him options.
His hands are traveling covertly across your ass as he tries not to make a big scene of the PDA, and for a split second, you hope that Jake can see it. “We can go to my place, my roommate is out of town…?” he perks his eyebrows.
“Even better,” you reply with a cheeky grin.
“Perfect…” he growls, looking over you more intensely than he ever really has.
“Hey, come with me, I gotta pee,” Jasmine says, pulling on your arm.
“Hurry up, the Uber is almost here,” Danny says as the two of you walk toward the bathrooms, Danny’s hand holding onto yours until the very last second.
The bathroom is packed and loud with people touching up their makeup and waiting in line for a free stall. “I’ll hurry,” Jasmine says, hopping into an open one.
You don’t have to go, so you sulk away in a corner, deciding to check your phone for the first time in an hour or so. Your eyes adjust to the bright screen and you flip through a few instagram notifications and emails, not really seeing anything too important. Until– a text.
A text from… Jake?
Your thumb hovers over the notification for a few seconds before you slide it open, expecting to see a funny meme or dumb article he’s shared, like always. But instead what you see sends a rush of nerves through your body strong enough to steal the breath from your lungs.
Jake
1:12am: Stay with me tonight.
You nearly drop your phone as you look away from it, your eyes suddenly fixated on the floor. You can hear your heart beating in your ears, and a cold sweat breaks out across your palms. What? This is a joke, he’s joking.
That’s why he was watching you so intently, he wanted you to look at your phone…
“Hey, you okay? You gonna throw up?” you hear and feel Jasmine enter your bubble, all the sound suddenly returning to your ears. “Your face is turning green… come on… let’s get to the toilet–”
“No, no I’m fine, I…” You’re speechless as you turn your phone screen around to her, showing her the text. Her eyes read the words, and then grow so big that you think they might pop right from her skull.
“JAKE? Jake, our Jake? Texted you this??” she yells, grabbing the phone from your hand as she does a quick few paces.
“Yeah.. what…?” You don’t even know what to say, or how to react. “He has to be joking, right?”
“Text him back! Answer him! Oh my god,” she rambles, handing you your phone back.
“What do I say?!”
“I dunno, just– anything!” she squeals, quickly rinsing her hands off in the sink.
You type up a few different responses before landing on one, nice and simple.
You
1:14am: Did you mean to text me? Lol
A bubble pops up almost immediately, and you feel like you could quite literally explode.
Jake
1:14am: I most definitely did. Stay with me.
“Fuck, Jasmine, oh my god, I am not cut out for this…” you start to panic, shaking your hands.
“Yes you are, bitch! Get your shit together, ok? He saw you looking at him, he knows you want him, jump. On. That. Shit,” she grabs your shoulders and shakes them.
“Hello, Danny? You expect me to just forget about him?!” you argue.
She clicks her tongue. “Is it really going anywhere with him, though? Jake just asked you to come home with him, he couldn’t be more forward than that. And you said you and Danny are just having fun, right? Messing around?”
“He just asked me to come stay with him, too. Tonight,” you admit, leaning your back against the wall in defeat. “There is no way this is happening, I need another drink.”
“No, you need to figure out who the fuck you want,” she says, pulling you from the bathroom into the sitting area outside of it. “Danny is fine as fuck, you guys have been having fun together, right? Yeah yeah whatever… and Jake. Our goofball friend suddenly turned… Christian Grey level sexy? And he wants you?! You need to decide, and quick,” she says, turning to look toward the exit again.
“You’re just saying that because you want Daniel all to yourself,” you joke, trying to take the heat off the situation.
“No no no no, that’s not… ok well that’s not untrue,” Jasmine says, crossing her arms. “If the opportunity presented itself, I would not turn him down,” she laughs, sticking her tongue out.
“Hey, Uber is here!” you hear Danny yell from across the bar, motioning with his arm to come on.
You feel a nervousness you’ve never felt creeping into your bones. “Maybe I should just get another ride and forget the whole thing, say I’m not feeling well and go home,” you suggest.
“That’s up to you, babe. You’re your own woman. I’ll go with you, if you want…” Jasmine says, laying her hand on your shoulder.
You glance back over to the group and see Danny standing holding the door open, and Jake a few feet behind him, watching you all the same. What in the actual midday soap opera is happening right now…
Your feet carry you toward the door on their own when you see Danny’s rushing expression and Jake’s intense one… both of these men want the exact same thing tonight. Great.
You’re on autopilot as you watch everyone begin drunkenly piling into the backseat, stumbling and laughing. First Danny’s two friends, then Jasmine, then Danny, then Jake. You’re left standing outside when you realize there isn’t enough room. Yes…
“Oh, shit. I’ll just call another ride, it’s no big deal–”
“No come on, we’ll make room,” Jake mutters as he looks at you with a smirk.
“No, seriously, it’s fine. I’ll grab the next one,” you say, but you’re stopped short when you see Jake’s hand being held out for you. He wiggles his fingers to tell you to come on, and his slow-blink tells you he means it.
“Babe, c’mon,” Danny says, leaning over Jake.
You swallow hard, taking a quick breath before grabbing onto Jake’s hand, and stepping up into the packed vehicle. As soon as you close the door behind you, the car takes off, making you lose your balance and fall straight into Jake’s lap.
Oh shit fuck.
“Oh god, I’m sorry,” you panic, trying to stand back up and adjust into another seat. Jake’s hands are on your waist as you stumble around the extremely crowded car, and you hear him mumble a soft and sweet “s’okay”.
Even in the dark, you can see that there is most definitely not enough room to take a seat of your own. The driver is driving erratically, taking fast and sharp turns and having absolutely no regard for his passengers, and it’s taking everything in you to hold on to the back of his headrest and the handle above you to keep from falling into the floor.
You start to panic as the man speeds down the streets and takes a particularly sharp turn, forcing you against your will right into Jake’s lap again. Fuuuuuuck. There’s nothing you can do about it.
You finally give up and let your body weight fall onto him, his hands instinctively holding you steady so you don’t slide sideways again. Everyone is loud and laughing drunkenly, in their own worlds and conversations as the car travels down the road.
“You’re alright, you can sit all the way down,” Jake laughs, patting his knee. For some reason, Jake suddenly feels like a stranger. A person you have never met before, not one of your very good friends. You feel anxious in his presence, and your mouth goes dry when you hear him mutter again, “It’s just me…”
Danny is caught up in his own thing, hardly paying either of you any mind at all as he’s belting the words to whatever old Nelly song is blasting through the car speakers. You take a deep breath, and relax all the way down onto Jake’s waiting lap.
“I’m sorry,” you apologize to him, rolling your eyes.
“It’s not your fault,” he says lowly, still smiling. You feel yourself go straight as a board, nervous to make a move at all as you realize the position you’re in. His hands are still respectfully balanced on your waist, and your hands are still gripping hard on the handles.
The drive is nearly ten minutes, and even with the way the man is navigating, the traffic still holds up progress, making the drive even longer. You begin to sweat thinking about how you’re going to survive this, what you’re going to do when the time comes to get out. You glance back over at Jasmine who is making the most outrageous face at you, clenching her teeth and smiling from ear to ear.
“You alright? You seem tense,” Jake brings his mouth close to your ear so that you can hear him over the blasting music.
Tense. Tense? Is he joking?! You’re worse than tense, you’re about to jump out of your fucking skin, actually!
“Yeah, I’m–” Another quick whip of the vehicle and a harsh stop makes you lurch forward and fly back again, your shoulder pressing into Jake’s chest. The smell of his cologne takes your breath even more intensely than the whiplash does, and his hand reaches up quickly to catch you from moving any further. “Fuck, dude! Drive often?!” you say, making everyone in the car laugh, but the driver pays you no mind.
“He’s not getting a tip, is he?” Jake laughs sarcastically. You feel the tips of his fingers tap your thigh, signalling you to sit up a little.
“Stand up a sec,” he orders and you do, and he lurches his groin forward, pressing himself into you. You have no idea what he’s doing as you feel his upper thighs press into your ass, and you know that your eyes have grown ten times their size. His left hand is still gripping your waist, almost holding onto you for leverage. Fuck, what is this… What is he doing? And why is it so hot?
Just as quickly as it happened it ended, and you catch sight of his right hand exiting his side. “Sorry, had to get in my pocket,” he says. “Here, one for you, one for me.” He plops back down into his seat, and you have to admit, the loss of the feeling of him damn near pressing his dick into you makes you shudder a bit. It felt…
He holds his hand out and presents you with two airplane bottles of some type of clear liquor. Once you see what he needed to get in his pocket for, you look back at him, his facial expression painted a mix of red and green as you pass underneath the crowded streets and stop lights. He raises his eyebrows, and urges you to take one.
“Here,” he says, “thought it could help with your tenseness.”
You swallow as your eyes fall to his hand, and you realize that he isn’t wrong. Yeah, you definitely need another drink for what has turned into a shitshow of a night. “Thanks,” you offer, taking one of the bottles from his hand.
You quickly open the lid and smell the contents, recognizing it right off the bat as tequila. Perfect. Jake does the same, but before he presses it to his lips, he presses the edge of his bottle to yours.
“Cheers, Y/N. To a night of revelry.” His eyes are boring into yours as his tongue licks across his lips, and a tiny smirk comes across his face.
“To revelry…” you repeat, and Jake is wrapping his arm with yours, tilting his bottle back to drain its contents. You prepare yourself for the sting of the liquor and take the shot, needing it now more than ever to numb your racing and confused thoughts.
Your arms uncross and you replace the lids on the bottles after you’ve both swallowed it all down, and you’re thankful that Jake had paid special attention to what you needed in the moment, while Danny still sits completely unknowing directly beside you.
Jake rips the empty bottle from your hand and sticks the two of them in the front pocket of his jacket, his hands going right back to supporting you still in your awkward position on his lap. You hate to admit it, but the alcohol has almost instantly calmed you a little, while it simultaneously is making you feel just a touch more daring. Jake looks like a fucking model tonight, and you’re relaxing comfortably on his lap. After he asked you to come home with him. What more could you even ask for?
In an act of courage, you decide to wrap your arm around his neck, balancing your elbow on the back of his seat. It brings you significantly closer into his realm, and you hear him take in a sharp breath at your new proximity. “Sorry, couldn’t sit like that any longer,” you say, your chin nearly resting on his shoulder.
“No worries, love,” he replies, readjusting his hand on your waist to fall a little lower than it was. Your heart is beating from your chest, and you swear you can feel the blood pumping through your veins. Why? It’s just Jake… just your friend. You’ve hugged him a million times before. Why does it suddenly feel so… different?
And all of a sudden, the car jerks you sideways again, redirecting your ass to sit directly on top of… him. Perfectly. Fuck. If there weren’t clothes to block the connection, the two of you would find yourselves in the most perfect position for some insane obscenity, right now. And you feel a surge of desire flood you, while simultaneously feeling Jake jerk in his pants below you. God damn, he feels fucking…
He takes a deep breath and exhales it through his mouth, his air blowing across your hair and lips a little bit as he reacts to the new position. He’s just as flustered as you are. For a split second, his hand wrapped around your waist tightens, squeezing at your side before he lets it drift down just a little to your thigh. Fuckkkkk. Your eyes nearly roll back as you feel his dick jerk between your legs again, in the most perfect position. You’re thankful for the darkness of the lower half of the car, concealing everything that has happened in the past few seconds in shrouded shadow.
Danny still sits oblivious, deep in pointless conversation with his friend beside him. He could give a damn less, and you’re almost positive he doesn’t even remember that the two of you have made plans, tonight.
Meanwhile, Jake’s breath is picking up as you see the slight rise and fall of his chest behind his partially unbuttoned shirt, also a new staple in his changing wardrobe that had you going fucking nuts the first time you saw him in it. Your face is still close to him as you continue leaning sideways on his seat, and you realize just how close your lips are to his ear. He’s trying his best to seem nonchalant, but still is being very intentional with the movements of his hand, still concealed in the darkness.
It slowly travels up your leg to your upper thigh, gentle but forceful all at the same time. Your head starts to spin, he’s touching you. He’s touching you like that. You blow out a huff of air into his ear, making his jaw clench. His hand squeezes at your muscle, his fingers dangerously close to being up underneath the hem of your tight dress.
He turns his head to face you, almost within inches. “That dress looks really good on you tonight,” he mutters, his eyes flicking from the windshield back to you. You can feel the heat from his breath on your lips, complimenting you in the sweetest most flirtatious tone.
“You think so?” you ask, your breath hitching as you feel him hardening below you.
“Mmmhm,” he growls, your faces within centimeters, now. “It really accentuates your body. Shows you off…” His eyes drift to your tits for just a second too long, as his tongue juts out and licks his lips. “But I think my favorite part is this… right here…” His hand that is squeezing between your legs moves to curl a finger up underneath the tight hem that is stretched across your thighs, way too high now that you haven’t yet been in a position to pull it back down. His finger runs along the seam around the side of your leg to the back, and his hand wastes no time in completely gripping your ass.
…You might fall the fuck apart.
You squeak out a sound that you can’t control as his hand squeezes and kneads at your partially-covered ass cheek, and his motions make your body react completely on its own. You sit down harder on his dick, grinding your hips onto him for just enough time to get a little friction where you need it. You should be embarrassed, but you’re not. Thanks, tequila.
“Your– your favorite part, huh?” you manage, your lips drifting across the baby hairs sticking free from his ponytail. He still stares directly out the windshield, like nothing is happening at all.
“That’s right,” he says, his fingers beginning to get a little more adventurous as you feel them nearing your heat, from behind. He’s squeezing the muscle even more tightly now that you haven’t stopped him. You’re completely flushed… dizzy and wanting as he’s sitting cool as ever below you. It sort of pisses you off, how you know for a fact that your body language is anything but relaxed, while his hand is buried between your legs. He displays hardly any outward look, at all. The perfect facade.
Just to get a rise out of him, you sit down on him with a little more force, swirling your hips as you grind in your search for friction. The action takes him by surprise as he grunts out a breath that sounds a bit desperate, exactly what you wanted from him.
He tries to cover it up with a cough.
“Jake man, you alright?” Danny turns from his other conversation to ask. Danny’s eyes flick to the two of you in this position and you quickly clean it up, leaning up a little and acting as though Jake’s fingers aren’t dancing around your opening.
“Yeah man, all good,” Jake replies through a strained breath.
"Take a breath, dude," Danny says as he smacks Jake's knee.
The way everyone is crammed in the seats has Danny’s back to you, anyway, so he has to strain to turn around backward and look for you. You’re not sure if it’s a gift from the heavens that he can’t see you very well, or an opportunity for the ages that Jake saw, and took full advantage of. Just then, Danny’s hand reaches back behind him, gripping onto your knee that’s closest to him. His hand starts to travel a little, all the while Jake’s fingers still exactly where he left them.
Oh fucking hell… no.
Danny’s hand moves again, down the length of your shin and back up again, rough and hot as he feels you up in the darkness. He never turns his head around, but his hand continues to sneak higher and higher, so much to the point that his fingers are dusting the inside of your opposite thigh. It’s then that you’re positive he’s completely unaware of what you and Jake are doing just inches away from his hand.
Danny firmly grips the muscle of your leg, switching between squeezing onto it and lightly trailing his fingertips over your already goosebump-covered skin. You wish you could see Jasmine, you wish you could telepathically tell her what is happening, that both of their hands are secretly on you, fighting for all of your attention. And neither of them have any idea the other is there, and neither have any intention of stopping.
You try to breathe and calm yourself, trying to ignore the fact that both men have their hands on you in their own stealthy and secret ways. It's jarring, but it also mind-fucks you a little, your thoughts streaming with filthy and unadulterated thoughts of... No. Don't even go there, Y/N. Absolutely not...
“I meant what I said tonight, in the text,” Jake’s graveled voice is suddenly brushing against your ear. His fingers are still slowly working you into an oblivion, down a long road you’re not sure you’ll ever return from. You feel him press a little harder, inching closer and closer to your thong- the only barrier between his hands and you. You sit down on him even harder, the mixture of his fingers teasing you so deliciously and Danny’s hand massaging you… it’s a cocktail that you can’t deny, a mixture of deathly decisions and filthy visuals that you can’t help but become victim to. And you’re fucking loving it.
“Did you?” you manage, your mouth still close to his ear. You're nearly intoxicated by the smell of his cologne.
“I did… and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say that the way your body is reacting right now, you just might tell me you will,” he goes on, making your head spin again. “Am I right?”
Your eyes flutter closed as you swallow again, arguing with what’s right and wrong as Danny’s hand reminds you that technically, he had you first. You told him you’d stay with him, tonight is supposed to be the night…
Jake’s fingers move a little closer, pulling your thong to the side as he slowly creeps even deeper, his movements so calculated and drawn out that you have to bite down on your own tongue to keep from crying out. Both of their hands are driving you to insanity, and you can’t even say a damned word without revealing what the other one is doing.
You’re in a delicious purgatory, and you’d sit in this car for all of eternity if it meant you could keep feeling like this.
The way that you're currently the keeper of both of their secrets, letting them do what they want to you, in complete confidence. Every few seconds you're reminded that the other one is there, when one of their hands would steal all of your attention away from the other. Your mind is being pulled in two directions, your consciousness traveling from left to right as they both unknowingly battle for your attention.
Just then Jake’s fingers find your clit, pressing harshly into it with tiny circles as you realize now that you’re fighting for your life. Your forehead leans onto his temple, all the breath escaping your lungs as he starts to build you up. “Oh my god,” you whisper in his ear through grit teeth. Your voice is desperate and pitiful as you fight swirling your hips on his hand, pleading with yourself to ignore the way he feels, and the way Danny’s hand is relentlessly kneading into your other leg.
“That feel good, baby?” Jake whispers below the roar of the music still filling the car. “That what you wanted me to do?”
You nod quickly, knowing that your decisions tonight will be ones that you try and forget about tomorrow, but the situation is too damn delicious to ignore, right now. “Yeah,” you whisper, nipping your teeth onto his ear. You feel his hips buck up, his dick hard as a rock beneath you.
“Tell me about it, tell me how it feels…” he whispers to you again, his fingers still working you to a point of no return.
Danny’s hand is still stretched as far as it can in the position he’s in, and you can tell that the way he is moving, his mind is coming back to him, and he’s preparing you for what is going to happen when the two of you get out of the car.
“Feels so fucking good…” you murmur, little whines falling from your lips as he lets his thumb tease at your entrance. “Don’t want you to stop, but…”
“But what, baby?”
You swallow, opening your eyes a bit as his thumb still teases. “I–You know I’m… going home with Danny…” The words feel like poison in your mouth, and you hate to admit it, even though it’s the complete truth.
But Jake knows your situation with Danny. He’s not unaware of any of it, at all.
“Hm,” Jake grumbles. “Is that still a thing?”
“Kind of, yeah… I mean…” you breathe, and Jake hasn’t slowed down his movements, at all. Each pointed touch of his finger on your clit is driving you to madness, and you’re surprised at your ability to even keep a little bit of a level head in your conversation.
“Interesting. Every time I looked at you tonight, your eyes were already on me, watching me like a hawk. I could have sworn those were fuck-me eyes, Y/N…”
He presses his thumb inside you a little, making you gasp a loud breath. The way your name sounded coming from his perfectly pouted lips… It sounds so different than it normally does. So much more strained, so desperate. He pulls his thumb back out, concentrating again on your clit.
“Who even are you, Jake? You’re like an entirely different person, all the sudden,” you admit through quiet choked breaths. You don’t know where that question came from, though you’ve been so curious about it for the past few weeks.
You catch his eyes darting around as he searches for an answer. He shrugs his shoulders. “Just have come into my own lately, grew up a bit. I dunno… why, is it a bad thing?”
“No! No, it’s… you’re the same you, just…”
“Now I have the confidence to do what I’ve always wanted to do to you, in the back of a car, secretly…” he mutters, clicking his tongue a little as he adds a little pressure to your clit. You can tell you’re absolutely soaking his hand, but you feel no shame in it. You hope to god Danny can’t feel your legs shaking and vibrating with pleasure… either that, or you hope that he thinks he’s the one causing it.
“You have? Why didn’t you ever…” you ask him, wondering why he’d never made an advance before. Or, had you been just too blind to see it?
Jake takes a breath. “I dunno, just never thought you’d be into me like that.”
“First stop!” the driver calls out, putting the car in a harsh park. You lurch forward and back again, your mind coming back to you a little bit.
Jake and Danny both quickly remove their hands from you as the cab lights in the car come on, and Danny’s two friends jump out. The loss of their touch is devastating, and you wonder what in the actual fuck you’re going to do when you eventually make it to Danny’s place. You take a second to glance back at Jasmine in the backseat, and immediately she can tell that something is going on.
You have only a second to communicate wordlessly to her before the doors are closing, and the car is taking off again. Now, the freed up space allows for you to have your own seat.
“Here babe, you can scoot over here, now,” Danny says, patting the seat between him and Jake. “Your legs fall asleep, Jake? Damn, we were really smashed in here.”
“You could say that…” Jake grumbles, taking one last opportunity to squeeze your ass as you climb off of him, the disconnect instantly making you fill with a frustrated rage.
You cross your arms as you find yourself sat between them now, pissed off and left feeling more edged than anything. Danny’s arm wraps around your shoulders and pulls you toward him. “Can’t wait to get that dress off you… I’m over here going fucking crazy…” he says into your ear.
You can’t help the expression that falls across your face. Fuck… if he only knew the situation you’re currently in… he’s going crazy?! He hardly paid you any mind at all for the past ten minutes you’ve been in here… his hand was the only contact he made, and you know his touching you was solely out of drunken opportunity.
Jake, on the other hand… quite literally…
You don’t give him a straight answer as the car pulls down Danny’s street, and your mind begins to race with crazed thoughts. Your stomach churns with nerves, and you almost wish you hadn’t taken that last shot of tequila. You feel like you’re being pulled two ways- wanting to go home with Danny after dancing around the act for weeks now, and leaving yourself to stay with Jake to finish what the two of you have started.
You know it’s wrong to even consider Jake, but something about him lately, and tonight, has made him like a forbidden fruit that you can’t help but crave. And after learning that apparently he’s wanted you all along…
The car begins to slow down in front of Danny’s building, and the nerves are so bad you feel like you could throw up. Danny slings the door open and steps out, turning to take your hand.
The invisible string… one end of you tied to Danny and the agreement you’d already made, and one end tied to the man beside you, his aura magnetizing you to stay with him… don’t get out of the car…
Your hand moves on its own, clasping itself around Danny’s as your body pulls itself from the vehicle, slow and blurry as your foot hits the concrete. Danny offers you a sweet, buzzed smile as he helps you to get your footing on the sidewalk. “You ready, gorgeous?” he asks, and your head nods, really unknowing if you are ready, or not.
Danny closes the door behind you and you turn to look at Jake, his jaw clenched tightly with his hand in front of it, his eyes glaring and low as the car pulls off to the next stop.
Well, fuck.
Danny pulls you through the front doors of his building and up the stairs to his apartment door. Your mind is still racing and your legs are still like jello from the performance that Jake had given you just minutes ago. You can tell that Danny is still feeling his liquor, stumbling just a little as he meanders through his dark apartment with you in tow. You had only been here once before, so you know your way around just a little bit. It’s a studio apartment, so you plop down on his bed, pulling your arms into yourself as he turns the kitchen light on.
“Gonna grab a water, you wann’one?” he stammers, his eyes hardly focused.
“Yeah, please,” you say, pulling your phone from your purse to see a string of notifications from Jasmine.
Jas
1:31am: BITCH WHAT THE FCUK WERE YOU TWO DOOIGN UP THERE
1:31am: i saw you whispering to him
1:31am: what did he say what did you say
1:34am: ANSER MEEEE
1:34am: he was so sad looking when u went with danny i cant believe uuuu. Anyway have fun i guess
“Here ya go,” Danny says as he hands you a cold water bottle. He’s already chugged half of his, and he lies down beside you, pressing the cold bottle to his forehead.
“Thanks,” you say, taking a few sips off the top. “You have too much?”
He sits up, tossing the bottle to the side before wrapping his arm around you and pressing you down into the bed. “No no, I’m good. Just kinda… well, maybe a lil’. But I still want to uphold our plans, yeah?” His face is buried in your hair, and you can feel his mouth starting to lay wet kisses up and down your neck.
“Yeah,” you breathe, the feeling of his mouth on you overtaking your mind already. Danny has always felt exceptionally good, able to turn you on within seconds. His hand is traveling over your body, over your stomach and legs and thighs as he delves into the sensitive skin of your neck, on the verge of leaving marks, if he wasn’t careful. Your eyes roll back as he moans in your ear, pressing himself up against you.
“Now, about this dress..” he says, pulling your straps down. You help him free your arms as your tits pop free, your nipples already perking up just from the contact he’d made. “Fuckin’ beautiful…” he says, leaning up on his elbow to reach down and hitch your leg over his waist. He takes your nipple into his mouth and begins swirling his tongue around it while his hand massages and kneads the other.
Your body begins shuddering from the feeling of it all, and the presence of his hardening dick pressing between your legs doesn’t help matters. Finally he connects his lips to yours, hot and messy as the kiss is deepened second by second. His hands are cupping your tits, and you can’t help but grind into him. Fuck… yeah, he feels good, but, is this going to go as planned? No matter how hard you tried, you can’t get the visual of Jake’s face as the car door shut from hanging in the back of your mind.
You switch gears to try and flush the thought of Jake from your mind, pulling Danny to his back and straddling his waist. You immediately lean down and pull at the hem of his shirt, ripping it over his head. God, his physique is un-fucking-real… You can’t help but to want to kiss it, to lick every inch of him. Your mind is completely reeling with a wild hormonal draw to him, while thinking about Jake’s hand between your legs, while you’re undoing Danny’s belt, thinking about how Jake’s breath felt on your lips.
For the love of god, get it together, Y/N.
“So sexy, baby…” Danny stutters as you begin making your way down his body, nipping at his pecs and sides as you descend down him, your body pulling you there on its own. His hand is tangled up in your hair as you begin teasing at his dick through his boxers, breathing hot air and humming your lips against him. You can feel your mouth starting to water just thinking about how he is going to taste on your tongue. This wasn’t the first time you’d done this for Danny, of course, but the foreplay has to start somewhere, right?
Danny bucks his hips into your mouth as your tongue glides over the tip, the indirect touch driving him absolutely wild. “Need your mouth, baby.. Need it– ahhh… so bad…”
His words urge you on to get your head on straight, pulling down at his boxers to expose him. His dick springs free and you immediately connect your lips to it, flicking the tip of your tongue. You feel the saliva begin to pool in your mouth as his stomach tightens in. “Fuck, yes, baby…” he says, his hand tightening in your hair again. You open your throat as best you can, taking him all the way down in one go. The sounds that leave him make you feel a fierce desire for him again as you begin bobbing up and down, using your hand for help.
Your tongue swirls and flattens as you watch his free hand grip onto the sheets. You sit up and pull his boxers and jeans all the way off, giving yourself a little more space to work. You dig your nails into the skin between his thighs, making him hiss an inhale. “Too much?” you ask.
“No, perfect… Keep going…” he breathes, sitting up for just a second to watch you. You work at him for what feels like ten minutes or so, just watching him get to the edge before he falls right back off again. You try different techniques and tricks, but you realize fairly quickly that your jaw is beginning to tighten and feel sore. You bring your hand to the base of his dick again, pumping it along with your mouth. “Fuck, fuck… baby…” he grunts again, and you can taste the precum finally dripping into your mouth.
“Taste so good, Danny…” you breathe when you find a free second. You’re trying to get him there, pulling out all the shots you can think of to get him to tip over the edge. His hand tightens in your hair again, and you feel yourself feeling touch-starved, especially since you were so worked up earlier. You slip your hand between your legs and move your thong to the side, quickly finding the place that Jake’s fingers had just inhabited not long ago.
Jake…
His fingers… they were just… there.
Maybe if you picture it’s him touching you again instead of yourself…
You close your eyes and envision it, letting yourself moan a little hum onto the tip of Danny’s cock.
“Oh fuck, do that again,” he cries, his head falling back onto the headboard. You do as he asks, all the while still picturing the feeling of Jake’s hand bringing you right back to the brink. Fuck, this feels so wrong. And so, so fucking right.
Suddenly Danny’s hand leaves your hair and grips onto the sheets again, the veins in his hands popping out as you watch him claw his way to the peak, his stomach caving in over and over as you work him harder.
“Mhmm…” you hum onto him again, realizing that is what he needed to get over his awful case of whiskey dick. You finally manage to get him there, watching as his face falls into a clenched expression as he fills up your mouth completely. You swallow it down and do your best to clean him up while he catches his breath on the come-down.
“Jesus you are so fucking hot,” he says once you’re all done. He hooks his arm up underneath your arm pit, pulling you to lay beside him. “That was… excellent.”
“Thank you,” you giggle, your clit still pouding with stimulation. The two of you lay there for a few minutes as he enjoys his euphoria.
“Gimmie just a minute, I’ll pay you back, baby,” he says softly as his eyes begin to close.
You nod as you glance up to him, your body on fire with want and need for reciprocation so intense that you can hardly stand it. His eyes are all the way closed and he’s completely relaxed back, and it’s then that you realize exactly what you had suspected would happen- he’s going to fully pass out on you.
‘Fucking kidding me,’ you think to yourself. ‘Is he serious?’
You should have known better, given how hard it was to get him to cum from a fifteen-minute long blowjob. A good one, at that.
Two minutes later, he’s snoring. Goddamnit.
And suddenly, you’re pissed. Pissed at it all. You know its just the rage from not getting anything out of this fucking deal tonight, and feeling rejected and forgotten after Danny got his. You have half a mind to sneak into his bathroom and finish things off yourself, but just as you’re about to grind your knuckles into Danny’s chest to wake him up, he rolls over, tucking his hands up underneath his pillow as his breathing completely evens out. Yeah, he’s out for good. Your heartbeat is flying off the handle from the bitterness you feel mixed in with how fucking turned on you are.
Fuck this night.
You gently lean down and pick up your phone that is still sitting on the bottom of the bed, the bright light hurting your eyes as the screen comes to life. You decide to answer Jasmine’s texts, even though you know she is probably already asleep.
You
2:13am: 🍆❌🥃👎😴
Your finger flips back over to the text from Jake, and you shudder at how harshly you left him on read… through text and in the car. You feel absolutely terrible. In all honesty, you should have stayed back with him tonight. Things could have ended up so differently. You halfway curse yourself for being such a brat about it all, because really, Danny didn’t do anything wrong at all. Upsetting, but not wrong. He did have a bit too much to drink.
In an act of pure courage (and horrific lingering arousal), you text Jake back.
You
2:14am: If I would have stayed with you, would you have fallen asleep on me?
You set your phone on your chest, halfway regretting sending the text, at all. You cover your eyes with your hand, fiercely tapping your other hand on your stomach as regret fills your mind.
Then suddenly, it buzzes.
You peek one eye open, expecting to see a reply from Jasmine. But– of course…
Jake
2:16am: He didn’t…
You
2:16am: 🙂
Jake
2:17am: Fuckin idiot.
2:17am: No, I wouldn’t have fallen asleep on you. I think we both know that.
You
2:18am: Why are you still awake?
Jake sends back a photo of his feet propped up on his ottoman in front of a fireplace, holding a glass up in front of it.
You
2:19am: Nightcap?
Jake
2:19am: No, it’s carbonated water. Couldn’t force down another drink if I wanted to
Danny startles you with a loud snore as he adjusts himself, getting comfortable again in his bed. And for some reason, it pisses you off all over again.
You
2:20am: What if I was there, would you have a drink with me?
Jake
2:20am: I would do anything you want, if you were here
2:21am: I got you all worked up for nothing, huh
You
2:21am: Understatement of the year.
Ya know what? Fuck it.
2:21am: But, not for nothing…
You slowly stand from the bed, rushing across Danny’s living area to slip quietly into his bathroom. Before you close the door behind you, you check to make sure he’s still asleep. When you’ve made sure the coast is clear, you lock the door behind you.
Alone and still frustrated with sexual tension, you turn on the dimmer switch on the wall, pulling it all the way down to as dark as it will go. You stand in front of his full-length mirror and pull one of your straps down to expose one of your tits. You fluff your hair and find the perfect position to stand, covertly covering up your nipple as you hike the tight bottom of your dress up a little higher.
You open your camera and adjust the lighting and snap a few photos, finding them all to be unreasonably sexy, if you do say so yourself. You finally choose the best one and attach it in a text to Jake, holding your breath as you hit send.
You
2:23am: Still very much worked up
You watch as the messages deliver, and Jake’s text bubble pop up and disappear four or five times as he is likely trying to decide what to respond with. You’re feeling a little more confident now, knowing that you’ve most likely left him a little speechless. It's an entire minute before he finally responds.
Jake
2:24am: Fuck
You snicker at his response before going ahead and typing up another.
You
2:24am: Think I made the wrong decision tonight
Jake
2:25am: Was waiting for you to admit that to yourself 😏
You sit down on Danny’s toilet, suddenly feeling very cold in the skimpy dress. You take a deep breath and rest your chin in your hand as you try and decide what to do next. You can steal one of Danny’s t-shirts, climb under the covers next to him and call it a night, or you could convince Jake that you’d rather be with him, and see what happens.
You feel your phone buzz in your lap.
Jake
2:27am: What if I promised to finish what I started
You
2:27am: If that entails anything like what you did to me in the car, I’ll take you up on that promise
Jake
2:28am: It has everything to do with what I did to you in the car
2:28am: And don’t act so innocent, I felt you trying to tease me, too
You
2:29am: Jake, it was obvious I wasn’t the only one worked up
2:29am: I never claimed to be innocent… 😇
Jake:
2:30am: God you’re a piece of work
You
2:30am: Come get me.
Jake
2:31am: Be there in 5.
Fuck fuck… this is really happening. Shit, you have made some horrible decisions tonight. But there is time for repentance later. Tonight, you’re going to pretend like nothing in the world matters.
You take a quick second to freshen up and dab some of Danny’s toothpaste on your finger, at least making yourself seem like you’ve not taken part in too many bad decisions, tonight. When you’re done, you creak the bathroom door open again and find Danny still snuggled up and passed all the way out. You quickly send him a text that you found a ride home, not wanting him to wake up and freak out too badly. You’re pissed at him, but honestly, not too mad. It ended up in your favor, to be honest. You place your bottle of water on the table beside him and plug his phone in before making your way to sit on his couch, waiting for your incoming text from Jake.
+++
“Here, brought you these,” Jake says as he hands you a pile of clothing after you’ve placed your seatbelt across your chest. “Thought you’d probably be cold.”
You unfold it all to find a pair of his sweatpants and an oversized sweatshirt, and a pair of old socks. “Jake, this is so sweet, you didn’t have to.” You feel your chest warm at his gesture.
“You look fine as fuck in that dress, but I know you’ve gotta be uncomfortable,” he laughs, one hand balancing on the steering wheel as he backs out of Danny’s lot.
You place the clothes on your lap, biting your lip in. “How about I leave the dress on for just a little while longer?”
You hear him exhale a laugh through his nose. “You really are trying to kill me, aren’t you?”
“No,” you reply shortly. “You can’t finish what you started if you aren’t alive.”
His eyes drift over to you in the passenger seat as his fingers rub over his mustache. Still so horrifically sexy. Good god.
“You really wanna do this, Y/N? I really just wanted to save you from staying somewhere you didn’t want to be tonight… we don’t have–”
“I want to Jake, I do,” you reply strictly. Your hand shoots over and lands on his leg, and you feel no shame in teasing him in the exact same ways that he was teasing you, earlier. Your hand moves up and cups right overtop of his bulge, and you hear him hiss as his hips jut forward in the seat. You begin lightly massaging it. “Unless you don’t want to…”
“Nonono I do, I do,” he says, shaking his head through a laugh at you as he continues down the street. “Can’t believe Danny did that to you tonight. Fucking figures.”
Your hand stops its motion. “What do you mean, figures?”
Jake inhales a sharp breath. “I told him he had to make a decision, you or that other girl. It wasn’t fair him leading you on like he was… guess he proved that to you all by himself.”
Your blood rushes to your head. What?
“Wait, what?! What other girl?” you sit up in your seat and face Jake, now entirely interested in something else.
He stumbles over his words, focusing on the road in front of him. “You didn’t– I thought you guys were kind of, open… right?”
You’re suddenly exasperated. “I mean, yeah I guess… we didn’t have a title or anything but like… we… I thought we were something… I thought he’d at least stay awake long enough to–”
Jake is silent for a second as he lets you process your thoughts.
“He was texting her all night, Y/N.”
Your jaw falls slack. “What? He was?”
Jake nods, flicking his turn signal. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, it’s not my business.”
“No, it most definitely is your business. You’re my friend, right? Longer than Danny has been my friend. It’s your business, I’m your business…”
His eyes dart to you again and give you a look that makes your heart skip a beat. He’s being protective over you.
“He’s been texting her a while, hooking up and whatnot. I don’t know anything further than that, or even who she is. But it pissed me off to see him hiding his phone so much, tonight. He was supposed to be there with you. I knew that he was trying to not let anyone see, but I saw it. A couple of times. I–I honestly thought that was why you were eyeing me so hard from the dance floor, I thought you might uh, have noticed him being weird and might be wanting to make him jealous or something. I dunno.”
You shake your head and laugh disbelievingly. “Wow…” you mutter, suddenly not regretting your decision to come here with Jake, at all. Fuck Danny for that. He should have at least told you. You weren’t exclusive, but you also didn’t have anyone else on your radar.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have told you that… I probably ruined your night,” Jake says as he pulls into a parking spot in front of his house.
“No. Actually, no, I’m glad you did. Something had felt kind of… off with him lately. I’m glad to know my gut wasn’t wrong,” you reply.
Jake turns the car off and you just stare at one another, waiting for the other one to talk. “I can take you home instead, if you’d like,” he offers, his true colors coming through even through his brand new facade. Actually, maybe it isn’t a facade at all. Maybe this is who he has truly always been.
“No. I want to be here, with you,” you reply honestly.
“Not for revenge?”
“No, fuck no. I should have told you I’d come home with you when you sent me that text. I know that now. I wanted to… I just… didn’t want to be rude and bail on him.”
“Maybe you are a sweetheart,” Jake pokes as he opens his car door, signaling for you to follow him. You both make your way out to his walkway and start heading up to his front door.
“I am a sweetheart! What do you mean?!” you laugh, slapping him in the arm.
“Ow, fuck,” Jake says, grabbing his arm as he turns to you in faux pain.
“That didn’t hurt,” you laugh, stepping up onto his doorstep.
“Yeah, you’re right. It didn’t hurt as bad as you leaving me in the dust tonight. Broke my fuckin’ heart,” Jake pouts. And for some reason, his words shoot right through your heart.
“Jake, I am so sorry,” you cry, turning to him. “Really.”
He laughs and turns to you, pulling a few stray hairs from in front of your face. “I’m kidding. I was sad, though.” He steps closer to you, enveloping your senses as he closes the proximity between you. “I’ve watched you walk away from me too many times over the years.”
Another shot through the heart. You’re one step away from feeling like total shit. “I didn’t even know you… cared, Jake. About me, like that.”
He shrugs his shoulder as he continues fixing your hair. “Ah, s’alright. You’re here now…”
You take a step closer to him, feeling a warmth travel over you that you don’t dare force away. Your lips are within inches of his, and your hand slowly comes up to grab behind his neck, playing with his hair that’s still pulled back into a low knot. His breath hitches but he doesn’t pull away, instead he brushes his nose against yours, making you break out in a chill that overtakes your entire being.
“Yeah, I’m here now.” You close the gap and press your lips to his, kissing him gently at first, just to test out his waters. You feel him holding his breath just a little as he pulls away, giving you a smile so genuine you feel as if you could melt into a puddle, right there on his doorstep. He places his hands on your hips, reconnecting the kiss in a more heated way now. His hands are gripping at your sides, and your hands are grabbing onto his jaw, kissing him fiercely as if doing so is the only right thing in the world.
You think you’re floating. No, you’re positive you are. The way he feels with his hands on you, the way your whole body is tingling and rushing with emotions… Kissing your friend never turns out well, but then again, he was fingering you in an Uber only an hour ago…
Just as quickly as things had started, they end, as Jake pulls himself away from you in a rush of excitement and nerves. “Let’s go inside.”
He pushes the door open and you step inside, feeling some strange sense of deja vu as you enter another man’s house this evening. You step out of your half-strapped heels, kicking them to the corner as you toss your purse onto his couch. Instantly, you feel his arms wrapped around your back, holding on to you with a sincerity that you’ve always felt with him, just never physically. His mouth is behind your ear, and his waist is already pressing into your ass.
“I know you want to leave the dress on, but I don’t think you’ll want it getting wet,” he growls into your ear.
“Wet?” you ask, your eyes fluttering closed from his use of the word wet. Why? Guess that’s just where your mind is going to live, tonight.
“Yeah. We’re taking a shower,” he replies, breaking away from holding you. But before he lets go, he grabs your hand and spins you around, making you follow him up the stairs.
A shower… holy shit…?!
Your brain short circuits as you realize that within the next minute, you’re going to completely expose yourself to Jake, your very good… friend. It’s okay. It’s okay!
The top floor of his home is carpeted, and the softness of it feels like heaven on your sore and tired feet. He pulls you behind him still, one of your hands locked with his, the other still lugging the clothes he’s supplied you with. He turns a left corner and introduces you to a large room, much larger than any bathroom you’d seen in the houses in town.
He turns on a light and illuminates a rather clean place for a man, a giant bathtub, and a shower that is bigger than your walk-in closet.
“Wow…” you exclaim, in awe of it all.
“Yeah, I knew you wouldn’t turn this down,” Jake laughs. “Right?”
“Most definitely not.” You feel a cold chill rush over you at just the thought of hot water pouring over your skin, and you have to rub your hands over your arms for friction and warmth.
You look to Jake who is leaning with his back on the counter, eyeing you so sweetly you could almost die. He cocks his head sideways with a tiny smile, and you cursed yourself for never really giving him the time of day in any regard other than just friendly interactions. Why had it never hit you before?
There’s a long pause as the two of you watch each other, and the tension between you is so thick it’s almost palpable. He kicks his shoes off and pulls his shirt over his head, never taking his eyes from you. You haven’t seen him shirtless in a long time, and for some reason the visual of his unclothed body literally makes you salivate. You have no shame in raking your eyes over him as he cocks an eyebrow, moving over to turn the shower on. Water begins to stream from two copper showerheads, and steam begins to fill the space immediately.
You pull the straps of your dress down, slowly inching the tight dress over your breasts, stomach, and hips… really making a show of removing what little clothing you have left on. Jake is eyeing you still as he roughly grabs his belt, ripping it from its buckle and pulling it from the loops. For the love of god, you could watch him do that over and over again…
He kicks his pants off as you finally slip free of your dress, reaching down to pick it up and hang it over the doorknob. You’re left in just your thong, feeling exposed as Jake stands before you in his dark gray boxers. He slowly walks to you, placing his warm hands on your waist as he kisses you again, slow and deep and sultry as you let his tongue explore just a little further than it had earlier.
He begins backing you up to the shower, the steam now coating the mirrors and window of the room. “I’m really fucking hungry for you, Y/N, in case you haven’t noticed…” Jake says as he takes your hand, placing it directly on his dick. Fuck, you’re in for it.
You take the liberty, and gently squeeze at it. “I’ve noticed.”
His mouth reconnects with yours again, the action of hungry really coming in to play as his fingers are slipping into the hips of your thong, running around the hem to the front. “Take it off,” you order him, swirling your hips a little as he begins to pull the fabric from your waist.
“Yes ma’am,” he grits. You do the same for him after you kick free of the last shred of fabric on your body, pulling his boxers down and off, all the way.
Through the steam, you can finally see him and he can finally see you, completely naked and baring yourselves to one another in the most enticing way possible. And god, is he a sight to see.
His hand comes up to cover his mouth in disbelief, and you can see him smiling behind his covertness. “You’re really, really gorgeous, Y/N.” His compliment sends butterflies through your belly, and you rush to him again, pushing him back and into the hot downpour of the shower.
The water blinds you completely as you’re both standing beneath it, a mess of slipping hands and missed kisses, all inhibitions out the window as neither of you can see what you’re doing. His hands find your tits, gripping them both in his hands and squeezing them with just enough force to make your back arch. His fingers work at your nipples, giving him a straightshot to go ahead and connect his mouth. He sucks one particularly hard, letting his lips pop off it with a loud snap.
“Fuck,” you breathe, finally wiping the water clear from your eyes. You’re met with a soaked Jake, grinning at you so deviously that you swear you could devour him, right then and there. He pulls you back a little again, pressing your back against the cold tile wall as he falls to his knees.
He’s biting at the skin of your stomach and hips, leaving marks you’re sure will be there tomorrow. He’s absolutely ravenous, and you know exactly what he’s about to do. His hands grip your ass, pulling at the muscles to make you lean into him, exposing your cunt to his ready and waiting mouth. Your hands find his head, your fingers tangling in his hair already as you feel yourself dripping with anticipation. Everything is rough, and forced, and so, so deliciously exhilarating.
He reaches behind himself and pulls his hair free from its knot, giving you so much more freedom to wrap it around your fingers. It’s like he knows you’re going to need something to hold on to.
His brown eyes shoot up to you, silently asking for permission to go further, of which you respond with a harsh nod. In less than a second his face is buried in you, his tongue already lapping through your folds and licking at you so deliciously that your knees start to buckle. He catches you, though, as if he had anticipated it, holding you steadily against the wall.
“God, baby,” you cry out, wiping away the water falling into his face and in his eyes. He feels absolutely incredible, like an otherworldly experience you had no idea you needed to feel. Pleasure is already wracking through you at an ungodly pace, until you feel his tongue swirling your clit, making you cry out again. Your head flies back as your hand covers your mouth, blocking any sound from escaping.
Jake lifts your left leg, tossing it over his shoulder to give him better access. “Let me hear you baby,” he says, “we’re the only ones here.” Your cries are pitiful as he pulls at your ass again, burying himself even further. You’re sure he’s going to drown as the shower is pouring directly on him, giving him little room to inhale anything other than water. Your fingers wrap up in his strands as you feel your hips begin to grind onto his face, swirling themselves as he moves his tongue to enter you, wet and luscious as his nose hits directly on your clit.
“Fuuuuuck!” you yell out again, unable to stop yourself from letting him know how good he’s doing.
Everything is happening so fast and so fiercely that you’re already nearing the edge, but you want this to last as long as it possibly can. He hums on you as his nose pumps against your clit, and you know that even if you could clear the water falling into your eyes, you still wouldn’t be able to see straight.
You feel your body beginning to tighten, the muscles in your stomach becoming rigid and tense as you feel the sweet release knocking on your front door. He notices this, and brings his finger up to take the place of his tongue. He slides it inside you, and the feeling is even better than you’d thought it’d be, given that he’d only given you an inch or so in the car, earlier. He starts pumping it with force, his speed only increasing as you are trying your best to breathe through ragged breaths.
“That good baby?” he asks, breaking away for air.
You nod, “So close…”
He flicks his finger up to the perfect hook, massaging your g-spot as his tongue still laps away, perfectly pointed on your oversensitive clit. You know that his fingers are only a preview of the real thing, and already you realize that if he is this good with just his hands, how is he going to be in bed?
“Oh god, baby… I–” You hunch over, your hands pulling his hair so hard you want to apologize, but he brings you to an orgasm so delicious you have to remind yourself where you are, and what you’re doing. His lips circle around your clit, pulling it into his mouth in quick motions while circling still with his tongue. The motion is new to you and you swear for a second you go deaf from the pleasure.
“Mmhmm, mhmm,” he hums onto you, releasing his finger and letting his tongue take its place again, collecting up everything he can as you find your mind.
After a few seconds he slowly stands up, wiping the drenched strands away from your face as he gives you an energetic smile.
“Jake, that was…” you can hardly form a thought before he’s turning you around, reaching for a bottle of shampoo to wash your hair for you. You let him, knowing that your elation is too high to even argue with him. He massages your scalp before rinsing all the suds, then gives you a healthy dose of whatever conditioner he has sitting in the corner, massaging it into your strands again.
For a minute, everything is… peaceful.
“Why you taking such good care of me?” you finally ask, feeling his still-hard length brushing across your ass.
“Because I want to. Any other questions?”
You laugh through your nose, realizing that enough time has passed that you’re damn near getting turned on, all over again. You shake your head no.
You switch off, washing and massaging Jake’s hair for him as no words at all are exchanged. Comfortable silence.
After you’re all washed and a little pruny, you turn to him again, this time the both of you exchanging looks that aren’t laced with as much aggression, but more painted with looks of desire that make your stomach swirl with the perfect anxiety.
“You ready to get out of here?” he asks, reaching for the shower handle to switch it off.
The two of you step out and you reach for a towel, but his hand stops you. “Hmm-mm,” he says, gently grabbing your hips. His lips are instantly connected to your neck, whispering sweet little nothings in your ear as you feel him pushing you to walk again, right over to the countertop. He spins you backward, and you find yourself facing a steam-covered mirror.
He reaches up and wipes it clean, and it's then that you see the reflection of the two of you, flushed and soaked and in pure and utter bliss… together. You take the initiative and lean over for him, stepping your legs apart as you eye him in the reflection.
His eyes glaze over with a hunger again, and as you press your ass back on him, the ravenous attitude returns. He places one hand on your waist and the other disappears between you, and you finally feel the touch of his dick rolling through your folds, instantly making you dripping wet all over again.
You watch as he grits his jaw, his cheeks puffing up with air as his eyes watch himself, deliciously entering you inch by inch. Goddamn, he’s a lot bigger than you had imagined… He presses himself all the way in, finally looking at you again in the mirror as he slowly pulls back out, his eyes rushing back between you so he can watch himself do it all over again.
Just the thought of him wanting to watch himself fuck you turns you on exponentially.
The feeling of him inside you is earth-shattering, to say the least. Each thrust is better than the last, and he hasn’t even picked up any pace yet. “Fucking hell, Jake… Oh my god…” you say, your jaw falling open as you squint your eyes closed. He moves his hand to hold on to your shoulder, picking up a pace now that has your mind reeling with a blinding pleasure you’ve never even felt before.
You arch your back for him, giving him a new angle to pound himself relentlessly into you, the sounds of your still-wet bodies smacking together echoing off the walls and making for an even more shrewd display. You watch him as he fucks you, powerful and gorgeous and sweet, making sure to catch your eye contact every few seconds to let you know he’s still there. It’s truly unreal, and you can hardly even catch your breath as you watch yourselves.
“Fuck, Y/N, keep taking it, baby…” he finally speaks, his head falling back a little as he slows his pace, concentrating now on a different stroke. He snaps his hips upward, hitting you in a whole new place deep inside. It nearly chokes you, the pleasure unimaginable and overtaking your every thought.
“It’s yours, Jake, it’s all–”
His hand grips in your hair, pulling your neck back in a tight jerk. The motion makes you feel used in the best way as he thrusts even more deeply now. Your hands are holding onto the sink for dear life as the water still in your hair drips down into your face.
Suddenly, Jake pulls all the way out, spinning you around to face him. His mouth is connected to yours in a flash, and you kiss him back, digging your fingernails into his ass to show him how pissed you are that he stopped. The two of you whine into each other’s mouths, desperate as you feel him pick you up and begin walking to the door. You can’t see where he’s going, but you don’t even care. You’re burying your tongue into his mouth and biting at his lips, feeling like an insatiable rabid animal for him.
You’re flying through the air backwards before you land on his mattress, bouncing a few times into the thick and plush down comforter that smells exactly like him. “Jake, we’re soaked, let me dry off, we’ll ruin your–”
“Do you think I give a goddamn about getting my sheets wet, Y/N?” he yelps, cutting you off from standing back up to get a towel. His hand is on your chest, gently urging you to fall back down into the messiness of his unmade bed.
It’s the most comfortable thing you’ve ever laid on, and the blankets and sheets are like mountains around you, protecting you and holding you between them. You feel safe here, you feel good.
“Say wet again,” you say, remembering how much you liked to hear him to say it.
He crawls back over you, pulling a dark blanket behind him as he positions himself between your legs, covering the two of you up in a warmth you can’t explain.
“Wet, wet… soaking fucking wet,” he sings as he pushes himself into you again, taking all the air from your lungs as you feel him enter you this way. You whine pathetically into his mouth, feeling so vulnerable and unguarded in his presence. Your hands fly above your head, letting his body weight fuck into you again. Every nerve ending in your body is on fire, zapping your every cell into a state of shock. You’ve never had sex like this before. What had you been missing out on with him, all this time?
There’s no light around you at all as the blanket is tucked into your sides, tightly wrapping you both up so you have no choice but to touch on nearly every surface of your bodies. You slide against one another, your hands coming down from above you to grab onto him, pull his hair, and grip his jaw for an overly-forceful kiss.
The way his breathy grunts sound in your ear make you soak again and again, and you know he can feel it. “Is that all for me, baby?” he asks, and you nod, breathing heavily as the pleasure wracks through you over and over again.
“All for you, all of it’s yours…” you breathe, wrapping your ankles around his back. “You feel so fucking good baby, god… please don’t stop…” you beg him, already feeling another impending orgasm on the horizon.
Your mind is so far away from everything that has happened tonight, and from Danny, and from whatever other girl he has been with, all this time. You could care less about it all. The way Jake is making you feel right now, the way he has been making you feel all night interrupts everything else so easily that you don’t even know why you were worried in the first place.
He’s perfect, this is perfect.
You pull the blanket back to uncover your heads, and you can finally see his face in the dim light of his room, fucked-out and ethereal as he continues. Your hand reaches up to grip around his neck, your fingers pressing over his jugular as his mouth opens for just a split second. You watch as his eyes fill with that same darkness again, and you know for a fact he wants you to do it. “Harder,” he says, so you listen, choking him with a little more intensity as you feel his thrusts begin to falter.
You feel like he can’t be deep enough, nothing will ever satiate you enough, when it comes to him. Your knees fall apart even further as your ankles uncross, and you stretch your legs up to hang over his shoulders, folding your body in half. “Oh my god babe,” he breathes, leaning all his bodyweight onto the backs of your legs. Your fingers still wrap around his throat, and you grab his hand, pulling his middle finger deeply into your mouth. You wrap your tongue around it, sucking and swirling as you hold him up through his thrusts, now deeper and rougher at this angle.
You watch his eyebrows furrow together as he starts to lose his composure, his entire body beginning to tremble as you realize you’re right there with him. Your eyes meet with his as you watch him, so much more beautiful than you could have ever imagined.
You pull his finger in as deeply as it will go as you start to chase your own high, your entire body quaking as your muscles experience your second orgasm of the night.
“Yeah… yeah…fuck…” he exclaims, biting his own lips.
Your mouth falls open to cry out, every inch of your body raving and shaking with unimaginable pleasure. He’s falling apart on top of you as he lets himself go, and you make a promise right then and there that you’d never settle for anything less than what Jake has given you, tonight.
His body trembles with a few aftershocks, making him hum through the comedown. He pulls out, and you instantly wish he was back, lying on top of you in the coziness of his bed. He’s panting and out of breath as he runs his hands down the lengths of your legs, lovingly kissing the insides of them as he steps back from you and off of the bed.
“I’ll get a washcloth,” he says, stepping sideways into the floor.
“It’s ok, I’ll come with you,” knowing that you’d prefer to clean yourself up, and get a towel for your still-soaked hair. You hop up and walk past him, smacking him on the ass as you dash to the bathroom.
After you’d both cleaned up, you follow him back into his bedroom, searching around for that pile of clothes that you were sure he’d grabbed again for you. You locate them easily, and slip the t-shirt and pants on.
“What are you doing?” he asks from the bed, reclining with his arm behind his head.
“Getting dressed,” you say. “I’ll get another Uber, they should still be out and abou–”
“Y/N, get your ass back in bed with me, don’t be insane,” Jake chortles as if you’d just suggested the most ridiculous thing ever.
You roll your eyes, a little embarrassed now. “Jake, it’s fine, I can go home. I know it’d probably be weird of me to stay.”
He sits up, and you realize that he’s still completely naked under the covers. “Have things ever been weird between us?” he asks, his voice a little more serious than before. “In all the years we’ve been friends?”
You stand awkwardly there in his clothes, in the middle of his bedroom, considering his question. “No.”
“Exactly,” he says as he lays back down. “Now strip down again, and get back over here with me. Unless you’d rather take the couch downstairs… Up to you, sweetcheeks.”
Thereeeeee’s the old Jake.
You huff a breath of annoyance. You know he’s right. “Ok, but only because you’re so bossy.”
You pull the pants back down, but decide to leave his shirt on before climbing back under the unbelievably comfortable sheets and pillows. His arms pull you in toward him before you even have a chance to lay down all the way, and you instantly are brought right back into that safe, comfortable embrace that is him.
“Yeah, actually, leave the shirt on. Looks good on you,” he says, placing a kiss to your temple.
You laugh as you dig down in beside him, tossing your leg over his waist. “Thanks. Think I’ll steal it.”
He reaches down to hike your leg up higher, then pulls your palm up to his lips as he places a sweet kiss to it.
Can you like tell us who is using ai so we can avoid the fics they post? Thanks
I’d love to, but I’m not here to call people out. That’d be a regressive move and drum up unnecessary drama. Just here to simply bring attention to the fact that it’s running rampant, and loyal, avid readers should be on the lookout and train themselves on how to recognize it and avoid bringing attention to ai. If they want. Or not. It’s simply just a BOLO♥️
Went to sleep last night upset that our little corner of the world is being invaded by people using robots to write stories.
Woke up still pissed off, but moreso insanely satisfied with the fact that my words do, and will forever come from my mind, and my mind only.
Literally nothing can take that skill away from me, or from my peers who put time, effort, and true grit imagination into these worlds we create.
"It's not that serious, it's just fan fiction!"
Literally, yes. You're exactly right. In the grand scheme of things, this is a blip on the radar. But I want you to think about your favorite slice of fanfiction that you've ever read. The one you always return back to, the one that lives in the backrooms of your mind when your brain drifts off. The one that caught you up so intensely that you were frothing at the mouth to continue reading it...waiting for those chapter updates, chomping at the bit for another post.
Would you be the same without it?
Maybe. Maybe not.
We write these stories because it's a passion for us. We don't write them for numbers and likes and reblogs. Who truly gives a fuck about all that? Though recognition is what fuels us to keep going, it's not necessary. We're going to keep writing because we want to, whether you read it, or not. Does a painter stop expressing because no one buys his prints? Does a musician stop writing because one person said his lyrics weren't great? No... they keep going. Fuck the haters. Because that creativity is literally burned into their souls. And stopping would be an insult to the art, itself.
The widespread use of AI has been a slap in the face to the creative world as a whole, we all know that. But we can't stop it. All we can do is learn to recognize it, and stray away. Who wants to read a smut scene written by a technological collective of literally all smut already written by human writers across the internet? It's fucking fake. A puzzle put together by an algorithm using 1's and 0's. That just seems so goddamn far from what the human mind should want to ingest, right? And if you do choose to ingest it, you're doing nothing more than losing complete touch with what is tangible.
Soon, we won't be the ones training AI. And that's fact, because it's already obvious that AI is training us.
I bet you've read a whole handful of stories that were written by AI, and you didn't even notice it, did you? That's because you're being trained... to be oblivious to it... by a machine.
Way to go.
You're literally being outsmarted by something that doesn't exist. Nice huh?!
Robots can't explain essence or nuance. Robots can't detail the dirty rawness of the human experience. Robots can't define captivation, or true desire felt between two people. They don't know how heartbreak feels. Robots can't create natural, real-life dialogue that flows and is believable to the reader. They can't add twists. They can't create memories. All these things that make good writing good.
Robots CAN, though, trick the reader into absorbing a story with little to no depth, directive, character arc, or character development. Short one-offs that act as a hit of dopamine to the mind... A quickie to get you off and then you can go about your day... sure. Robots can do that. No sweat. Good for them.
"Writers" who use AI are slapping every last one of us in the face. And I hope that when they lay their heads down at night, they feel some type of remorse for straight up lying to people for attention. So fucking inauthentic. Counterfeit stories are nothing but backboneless copies of the shit that we have already dreamt up and brought to life. So, you guys are welcome!
If you feel like you've fallen victim to one or more of these "stories", you probably have. And that's okay. Because those of us who treat this hobby as an art form will still be here, dreaming up worlds and chronicling tales for you to get swept up in.
So thank you to everyone who has ever given our stories even an ounce of true love. We love you right back. With actual oxytocin.
We promise to keep it authentic. We promise to stay as real as it comes. We'll put in the blood, sweat, and literal tears to keep it a buck for you. And we swear on everything that is holy that we will continue to fight the good fight. God forbid we ever witness a world without a raw and true recount of the human experience.
Anyways.
In this electric tomb, man has made an omnipresent force.
A/N: Hey guys! Super excited to finally share the first part of this three part story with you. It will follow Jake and Y/N as they reconnect after years apart, during Thanksgiving, Christmas, and finally New Years Eve. I hope it will bring you a few surprises, a little nostalgia, and of course, some heat. I can't wait for you to see how this all unfolds, and as always thanks for every like, comment and reblog. It means the world to me to have readers like you! Happy Thanksgiving! - N
You grab your coat from the hotel closet, the empty hanger swinging freely now in the half empty space. Your hotel room feels too quiet, too small, and you can't stop thinking about what's waiting outside. Frankenmuth hasn't changed much. The streets are still alive and humming with tourists, and the air is still filled with the smell of roasted nuts and fresh winter air. But it feels different this time. Or maybe you’re different.
It's been too long since you've seen your friends. The ones who knew you before your life started pulling you in a hundred different directions. You can feel the flutter in your chest, the one that comes as you find yourself on familiar streets, remembering high school dances and nights spent telling secrets behind the bleachers at football games.
As you drive through the quiet streets of Frankenmuth, your mind drifts to Jillian’s text last week that started all of this.
Jilly: Y/N! Henry and I are hosting Friendsgiving the day before Turkey Day. Pretty sure the whole gang is coming. I hope you can make it! 7:00, same house!
You remember reading it, a mix of excitement and nerves bubbling up all at once. It feels like a lifetime since you’ve seen everyone. You smile to yourself, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. You’re coming back, not just to your hometown, but to a piece of yourself you’d almost forgotten.
You’ve grabbed a bottle of your favorite red, the St. Julian that you can only get at the wine shop on Main Street. It’s always been your favorite when you visit home, and you know it’s perfect to share at a gathering like this one.
As you step out of your rental car into the cold November air, your mind plays through vivid memories. Running through the first snow of Winter in the park with your friends, the smell in the air as the leaves begin to change color, and all the small quiet corners in this town you once called home. Every detail of home presses in on you, warm and familiar, reminding you how much you’ve missed this.
You pull your coat tight around you, taking a deep breath. Tonight isn’t just another night, it’s a bridge between the past and the present, a chance to slip back in time, to see who everyone has become.
And as you walk toward the familiar house, a smile tugs at your lips. For the first time in a long time, you feel that simple, exhilarating feeling of being exactly where you’re supposed to be.
You press the doorbell and wait, the chime echoing like a note from the past. The door swings open before you can knock, and a wave of warmth and chatter spills out. Laughter, the clinking of glasses, the faint smell of roasted turkey and pumpkin pie all hits you at once, a flood of comfort and memories.
“You made it!” Jillian shouts, pulling you into a hug before you can even set the wine bottle down. You can feel the energy of the room, the hum of voices catching up, stories spilling over one another. It’s chaotic, loud, and messy in the best possible way.
You start weaving through the small crowd of friends, exchanging hellos, kisses on cheeks, and quick hand squeezes. Everyone looks older, somehow, but not too different. The kids you knew are still there somewhere, and there’s comfort in that. Proof that while life pulls you all in separate directions, this is still home.
Jillian bustles past, her apron dusted with flour, laughing at a story someone is retelling from high school. You feel the corner of your mouth tug into a smile, your nerves now settling into excitement. You pull the bottle of wine from your bag and set it on the kitchen counter, ready to join the swirl of chatter and warmth.
Your friend Sarah catches your eye, and you’re pulled back to the countless nights you two spent running from one adventure to the next, chasing after boys and midnight dares, and for a moment, it’s like no time has passed at all.
You grab an empty wine glass from the counter, filling it with the red you brought, and take a slow sip, letting the familiar taste ground you. Laughter rings out from the living room, stories overlapping in a happy, chaotic blur. Someone nudges you gently, and you turn to see Ashlyn, her face lighting up with recognition.
“Y/N! I can’t believe you’re here! Look at you! You’re a vision!” she says, tugging you into a hug. You laugh, the sound spilling out of you easily, and suddenly all the years apart melt away.
You drift out of the kitchen, passing an old photo on the wall of you all in high school, arms slung around one another, grinning like nothing in the world could touch you. You feel a pang of longing, not sad exactly, but wistful, that familiar ache of knowing how far you’ve all come, and how much has changed.
The clatter of plates being set, the smell of roasted turkey, and the warm hum of conversation fills the space, and you let yourself relax, letting the comfort of it all wash over you. Tonight is about laughter, memories, catching up, and sharing pieces of yourselves you’ve kept tucked away during the months and years apart from each other.
You raise your glass to a passing friend, clinking lightly before taking another sip, the warmth spreading through you. For the first time in a long time, it feels effortless to belong, to slip back into the rhythm of this group that’s been part of you for so long.
You turn slightly as Henry, Jillian’s husband, sidles up with a warm grin. “Y/N! There you are!” He claps you lightly on the shoulder. “It’s been too long. How have you been? What’s life like in Cleveland?”
You smile, feeling yourself relax into his easy company. “It’s been good,” you say, setting your wine glass down for a moment. “Busy, you know. Work’s been… well, work, but I love it. Keeps me on my toes.”
He raises an eyebrow, “Ah, the ever famous wordsmith, always keeping busy. And what about the personal life? Still seeing that guy you were dating back in what, April? Barney?”
You laugh, shaking your head, a little embarrassed at how easily the question slips into conversation. “No. No, um, Barrett…That’s… definitely over. Long story, but I’m okay with it.”
Henry chuckles, a deep, warm sound that makes you smile. “For the best,” he says firmly, giving you a knowing look. “Trust me. Sometimes things end so something better can come along. You just have to be patient.”
You nod, sipping your wine again. “Yeah. I suppose that’s true, though you and Jilly never had to figure that out.” you laugh.
He grins, clapping his hands together. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Well…that’s enough serious talk. Go enjoy the party, catch up, make some new memories. You’re home, Y/N. And you're with people that love you, that’s what matters.”
You smile, letting his words settle in, feeling the comforting weight of old friendships and the familiar warmth of this space. You hadn’t realized how much you’d missed it here. How much you’d missed them.
The front door opens again, though this time there is no knock, no doorbell, just entry, the cold air sweeping through the front hallway suddenly. You don’t realize who it is at first, just a man dressed in dark clothes and a coat. But it’s when that coat comes off, and the hall light hits his face you realize just who you’re looking at.
Your chest lurches before your brain even catches up. He’s different than you remember, shoulders broader, slightly taller, and with that same easy confidence that always seemed to fill a room. His hair falls to his shoulders now, and for a second, you think you might be imagining his presence all together.
But no. It’s real. He’s real.
Your eyes meet briefly across the crowded room, and something inside you flips. A spark of recognition, a flash of memory from years ago, and a current that feels impossibly strong. He pauses, scanning the room, until his gaze lands on you again. That half smile, the one that haunted your dreams and lingered in your memory, tugs at the corner of his mouth.
You freeze midstep, glass halfway to your lips as your heart hammers in your chest. The laughter, the chatter, the cozy familiarity of the party, all of it fades into the background and suddenly all that exists is him.
For a long, breathless moment, neither of you moves, neither of you speaks. It’s like the world has shrunk to just the two of you, suspended in that quiet, impossible moment.
And then, just as quickly, the spell breaks and the room begins to move again, the voices rise, but your mind is already racing. You take a slow breath, forcing yourself to act nonchalant. No sudden movements, no obvious staring. Just… blend in.
With your now empty glass in hand, you weave through the room, nodding and smiling at a few friends, letting your laughter sound natural even as your chest hammers against your ribs. Every step toward the kitchen feels measured and deliberate, like you’re performing some delicate balancing act between composure and the chaos of your thoughts.
You tell yourself he probably doesn’t even remember you. Probably doesn’t even notice you. And yet, with every step, you can feel the pull, magnetic and undeniable, drawing him closer.
The chatter fades slightly as you enter the kitchen, a quieter corner of the house at the moment, away from the main cluster of voices. You set your wine glass down on the counter and straighten your posture, trying to look casual. You glance around, pretending to be occupied with arranging dinner glasses and napkins, but your eyes flick toward the doorway out of habit and there he is. Not moving, not speaking, just standing there, like he’s always been part of your memory, a perfect, impossible fixture.
Your stomach flips. You clear your throat softly, forcing a small, almost casual smile. “Jake,” you say, trying to sound like you weren’t just caught off guard by the last twenty seconds of your life.
He steps fully into the kitchen, the floorboard creaking softly beneath his boots. He looks different and exactly the same all at once. Older, sharper around the jaw, his hair long and wavy in a way that somehow suits him too well. But his eyes… Those are still unmistakably the same. Still his.
“Hey,” he says, and it's low and a little rough, like he hasn't done much talking today.
You force yourself to stay grounded, your fingers curling against the edge of the counter behind you. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight.” you say, letting the truth slip out.
His mouth curves, “Yeah, I uh– got a flight last minute to come see my family. Figured I couldn’t turn down Henry’s invitation,” he says, running a hand through his hair, pushing it back in a motion so familiar it nearly knocks you over. “Been a while since I’ve seen everybody.”
You nod, “Yeah. Me too.”
He steps closer, not close enough to touch, but close enough that you can smell whatever cologne he put on this morning. He looks at you like he's trying to line up the person in front of him with the girl he knew in highschool.
“So…” he says, “How uh– how’ve you been since—”
You release a breathy laugh, the question suddenly feeling huge. “Since high school? Good. Busy mostly. Cleveland’s… alot. But good. What about you?”
He tilts his head in a familiar way, like he's reading between the lines of your answer. Like he always did. “Great actually. Tired, exhausted really,” he admits. “But I think being home will help with that.”
You nod, clutching your wine glass tighter. “Yeah, I get that.”
The house hums with conversation pouring out of the living room. Jake’s eyes seem to linger on you and you see something flicker within them. Recognition for sure but memory, maybe?
He clears his throat then looks away.
“You, uh, come in here to hide from everybody? Look busy so you don’t have to socialize?”
You grin, “Maybe.”
His smile is crooked now, “Figured.”
And just when the moment feels too intimate, when you’re dangerously close to being pulled straight back to who you were when you were eighteen, Jillian’s voice cuts through the air.
“Time to eat!”
You both jump but then he steps aside, holding an arm out for you to go first, “Ladies first.”
—
Dinner is loud in the way only old friends can be. Layers of overlapping conversations, silverware clinking, someone laughing loudly at the end of the table while Jillian tells Henry he didn’t cook the rolls long enough.
You settle into your seat, trying not to be hyper aware of the fact that Jake ended up directly across from you. Which means every time you look up, there he is. Sometimes smiling, sometimes listening, sometimes looking at you before pretending he wasn’t.
You’re halfway through your roll when Jake reaches across the table and plucks your empty glass from in front of you.
“Here,” he says, already rising from his chair, “I’ve got it.”
You blink. “Oh. You don’t have to—”
He just sends you that one sided smile, “I know.”
He disappears into the kitchen, and you try to act like your heart isn’t doing absolutely stupid things in his absence. Jillian elbows you lightly.
“He looks good,” she whispers, wiggling her eyebrows and grinning.
You nearly choke on air. “Jillian.”
“What? I’m just saying.”
You make a face at her, but heat still creeps up your chest.
Seconds later, Jake comes back with your refilled glass and sets it gently in front of you. You thank him, bringing it up for a sip, but pausing, frowning slightly as you study the bottle he places on the table in front of you.
“Wait,” you murmur, leaning in a little. “I thought mine was gone.”
He glances at you, confused for a second, then shakes his head, motioning to the bottle. “Oh—this one’s mine. I brought it. Hope that’s okay?”
Your eyes widen when you spot the label. “You brought St. Julian?”
Jake’s mouth curves into a smile, “Yeah. It’s my favorite when I’m back home.”
You blink. The coincidence lands like a small, quiet shock.
“Oh,” you say, softer than you mean to. “I um– Me too.”
“Guess some things haven’t changed that much,” he says lightly, but there’s weight beneath it.
You lift your glass again, the rim barely brushing your lip as you meet his eyes over the top.
“Yeah,” you murmur. “I guess not.”
He raises his own glass, just a few inches off the table, his gaze still locked on yours.
A silent cheers.
No clink. No words. Just the two of you, glasses tilted toward each other in the softest, most loaded acknowledgment of the night so far.
You both take a slow sip, still watching each other over the rims. You lower your glass first, pulse steady but impossible to ignore, and Jake follows a beat later, his eyes lingering in a way that makes it clear you’re not the only one feeling something.
—
Dinner is in full swing now, with plates half empty, wine glasses half full, and everyone talking over each other like no time has passed. You’re mid laugh at something Sarah said when you hear Cora speak up from the other side of Jake.
“So, Jake,” she says, tapping the stem of her Martini glass, “You must have some wild stories from the road. I mean, you’ve been like all over the place, right?”
Jake looks up, offering her a small smile, “Yeah, I’ve been around a little bit.”
“A little?” Cora laughs. “Come on, you’ve been overseas, like ten times right? Touring and… whatever else you guys get up to. There has to be something exciting.”
Jake shakes his head with a soft breath of a laugh. “Nothing as exciting as people think. Mostly travel, soundchecks, shows, hotel rooms, repeat… not that thrilling if I’m honest.”
Cora tilts her head. “I’d love to hear about it sometime. Maybe fill me in on what it’s really like.”
Jake hums noncommittally. “If I can remember anything worth telling,” he says, taking a slow sip of wine.
She leans in slightly. “Well, maybe I could jog your memory later.”
Jake’s smile tightens, still polite. “I appreciate that,” he says gently, “but honestly, it’s all pretty boring compared to this.”
“This?” Cora echoes, confused.
He gestures lightly to the whole table. “Being home. Seeing everyone again. Feels… nicer than talking about work.”
“Oh.” Cora blinks, thrown off but trying to play it cool. “Right, yeah. Of course.”
Jake nods once, warm but distant. “But thank you.”
And just like that, he turns his attention back to the table. Back to Henry asking about a guitar, back to Sarah laughing about a junior year disaster, back to the conversation that includes everyone.
Cora sits back, swirling the olives in her glass, her smile fixed but tight.
Across the table, you feel that same warm flutter again. He wasn’t rude. He wasn’t cold. He just… didn’t bite. He didn’t give her anything to cling to. Didn’t engage and didn’t flirt back. And without looking directly at you, he somehow makes it very, very clear, he’s not interested in her.
Not tonight. Maybe not ever.
—
The rest of dinner ends up being louder and messier than it has any right to be. Everyone passes dishes over each other’s heads, Jillian shouting for someone to “please, for the love of God, stop double dipping into the sweet potatoes,” and Henry insisting the turkey is dry even though it absolutely isn’t.
Eventually Sarah leans back in her chair and claps her hands together dramatically.
“Okay,” she announces. “Does everyone remember senior year, the football game against Birch Run, when Jake, Henry, and Josh decided they were going to, quote, ‘fix the scoreboard themselves’? Because I think about it at least once a week.”
Henry groans immediately and Jake drops his fork.
“Oh my god,” Henry mutters. “Don’t start.”
Sarah is already laughing. “No, I’m absolutely starting.”
Jake runs a hand down his face but he’s smiling, shoulders shaking. “This is slanderous,” he says, looking around the table for backup. But no one gives him any. They’re all too busy trying not to laugh.
“You three idiots,” Sarah continues, “climbed up onto the roof of the press box with a wrench you stole from Coach Dan’s truck—”
“We did not steal it,” Jake argues, pointing his fork at her. “We were borrowing it. Big difference.”
“It was 9:30 at night!” Sarah cries. “You didn’t even tell anyone what you were doing! The announcer kept saying the score was wrong, and the crowd was booing, and meanwhile you guys are up there in the dark with tools!”
The whole table erupts in laughter.
Jake is laughing so hard he’s gone a little red, head tipped back, hand covering his mouth. It’s so unguarded. So familiar. So infuriatingly attractive.
Henry shakes his head and points at Jake. “And who dropped the wrench that landed on Jessica Fortune's Tuba?”
Jake slams his hands on the table. “I’ll never tell.”
The table dissolves into hysterics.
You can’t look away from him. You didn’t expect to hear that laugh again, not like this, not across a table, not with ten years of space filling up the room and somehow not mattering at all.
And when he finally glances over at you, still grinning, still breathless from laughing, you feel it land in your chest like a memory snapping back into place.
Something warm and frightening. Something you didn’t realize you’d missed until now.
“Oh my god…speaking of that night,” she says, swirling her wine dramatically, “does anyone remember what Y/N was doing behind the bleachers while you boys were up on the roof?”
Fork halfway to your mouth, you freeze. “Sarah,” you warn lightly, giving her a look. She ignores it completely. Of course she does.
“Because if I recall correctly,” she continues, eyes sparkling with mischief, “you and Greg Thompson were getting very cozy back there.”
Your stomach drops straight through your chair.
“Oh my god, no we weren’t!” you blurt, practically choking on air. “Nothing happened! Nothing! He tried to kiss me and I literally shoved him into a football tackling dummy.”
The table laughs again, but now it’s at your expense.
Cora waves a hand,“Yeah right! You were back there for, like, half an hour!”
“I was hiding!” you protest. “From him! And from that stupid spirit week eagle mascot costume. And from you, because you dared me to streak around the track.”
Jake’s eyebrows lift, amused. “Wait—you almost streaked at the game?”
“Absolutley not,” you say quickly. “I was being bullied.”
“You were being dramatic,” Sarah teases.
“I was being normal,” you counter, pointing at her with your fork. “I was cold, sober, and Greg Thompson smelled like BO and hot chocolate.”
Henry snorts wine up his nose.
But Jake… Jake isn’t laughing as loudly as the others.
He’s definitely amused, but watching you with this quiet, fascinated expression. Like this version of you is new to him, but familiar, too.
“And just for the record,” you add, cheeks burning, “I did not hook up with Greg Thompson. Ever. Not even a little.”
Cora wiggles her eyebrows. “So you say.”
“So I know,” you shoot back, burying your hot face in your hands. And over the rim of your fingers, you catch Jake still looking at you, like that little slice of your past just peeled back something he never got to see.
Before Sarah can dig herself in any deeper, Jillian suddenly claps her hands together from the kitchen doorway.
“Okay! Enough humiliation for one night,” she announces, grinning as everyone laughs. “Who wants pie?”
There’s a chorus of enthusiastic yeses, forks tapping against plates, and Henry already lifting his hand like a kid.
Jillian points at him. “You don’t even know what kind I made and you live here.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Henry says. “Pie is pie.”
You laugh, grateful for the interruption, your heartbeat finally starting to settle. Jillian catches your eye across the table and gives you a wink, as if to say sorry.
She stands and begins to make her way to the kitchen. “Apple and pumpkin.”
Chairs scrape the floor as everyone stands and flocks toward the kitchen, the room filling with the smell of cinnamon and butter. Jake rises slowly from across the table, eyes flicking to yours for the briefest second before he follows the group.
Your embarrassment fades into something else. Pie is happening. And so is whatever this thing is between you and Jake.
—
Everyone drifts back into the living room with plates piled high, forks already carving into the flaky crust. The lights feel softer now, the wine warmer, the air looser with the easy buzz of people reverting to who they used to be.
You settle into a chair with your pumpkin pie, tucking your feet beneath you as you watch Henry start gesturing wildly mid story. Jake sits across the room, relaxed into the couch with his legs stretched out, his plate balanced on his knee. Every so often, your eyes meet for a blink too long and you both look away like teenagers.
“Okay,” Cora says through a mouthful of apple pie, “do you guys remember senior prom?”
A collective groan ripples through the group.
“Oh God,” Sarah laughs, setting her pie down. “Why are we going there?”
“Because,” Cora smirks, “it’s hilarious.”
Jake lifts a brow, half amused, “I feel like this is gonna be at my expense. Again.”
“Oh, it totally is,” Henry says, pointing at him with his fork. “You and Lacey Turner. Man. What a disaster.”
You perk up a little, even though you try to keep your expression neutral. You remember Lacey. Perfect hair, perfect shoes, perfect everything. You never dared to think Jake would ask you to prom, but you remembered who he went with.
“What happened?” you ask, pretending you don’t remember every single detail of that night.
Cora laughs, delighted. “You don’t remember? Oh my God, you’re in for a treat.”
Jake closes his eyes like he’s bracing for impact. “Please embellish as little as possible.”
Henry ignores him, already launching in. “So Jake shows up in this suit that was like way too big. Like, drowning him big—”
“It wasn’t that big,” Jake mutters.
“It was gigantic,” Sarah insists. “You looked like a 1940’s jazz pianist.”
You snort into your pie, and Jake looks at you with a quick flash of a smile, just for you, before shaking his head.
“And Lacey shows up,” Henry continues, “looking like she walked straight off a bridal magazine cover. Like she was getting married, not going to prom. And she—what was it? She kept complaining about the music?”
“Oh my God yes,” Cora says. “She said the DJ ‘wasn’t playing any sick beats.’”
Jake looks pained. Everyone bursts out laughing and Jake can’t help but laugh too, heat rising in his cheeks but in a cute, self aware way. He shakes his head again, running a hand through his hair.
Henry slaps his knee. “Best part? She left early. Just completely ditched him.”
Jake shrugs. “I wasn’t devastated.”
“No, because—” Cora starts, grinning wickedly, “he came and sat with us the rest of the night. Remember? You, me, Sarah, and—”
She flicks her gaze toward you, smiling. “You. He sat with you guys until the lights came on.”
Your fork freezes halfway to your mouth.
Jake’s eyes shift to you again. Not teasing this time. Almost remembering something he hasn’t let himself think about in years.
“Oh yeah,” Sarah adds, nostalgic and oblivious. “We all slow danced in that stupid circle at the end. Remember? Jake, you danced with Y/N.”
Everyone looks at Jake. And then at you. Your stomach flips so hard you swear you feel it in your throat.
You remember that night. You remember the song. Perfect by Ed Sheeran. You remember his hands, awkward and gentle, at your waist. You remember not sleeping for two days afterward.
Jake clears his throat, the corner of his mouth twitching. “I remember,” he says quietly.
And for a moment, the room feels too small. And too loud. And not loud enough all at once.
The conversation keeps rolling, everyone laughing and adding details you half remember, and half wish you didn’t. The room feels warmer, louder, and fuzzier around the edges. The wine is catching up to you, and the embarrassment burns beneath your skin.
You laugh along, but you can’t shake the way Jake said I remember, soft and earnest and too much for one crowded living room. You need a minute. You need something to do.
So you stand up from your chair, brushing your hands on your skirt. “I’m just gonna—uh—start grabbing plates,” you say, already collecting empty dessert dishes and abandoned wine glasses from the coffee table.
Jillian waves you off from her spot on the couch. “You don’t have to do that, babe—”
“I know,” you insist lightly, “but you guys cooked. Let me help.”
It’s the kind of excuse no one questions. A built in getaway. You move into the dining room, stacking plates in your arms, balancing utensils so they don’t slide off. The sounds of laughter fade just a little behind you, replaced by the steady thrum of your pulse in your ears. You’re halfway through rearranging the stack when you sense someone behind you.
“Here,” a familiar voice says. “Let me take some of those from you.”
Jake.
You freeze for only a second before forcing your grip to relax, letting him take the glasses from your hands. He smells like cologne and your favorite red wine and something uniquely him. He stands close, but neither of you steps back.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says quietly, eyes flicking to yours. “Just figured you could use a hand in here.
“Yeah, um sure,” you say, clearing your throat. “Thanks.”
Things feel awkward. You are positive that both of you are feeling the weight of what was just said in the other room. And what wasn’t.
You shift your arm to grab one last salad plate, just as Jake moves to reach for the same one. Your wrists bump, the glasses tilt and a half full wine glass tips over the edge of the plate stack.
The splash is instant. A bright, growing red stain hits Jillian’s cream colored rug.
“Oh—shit,” you gasp, stepping back.
Jake crouches down automatically, guilt sweeping across his face even though it wasn’t really either of your fault.
“That was—yep. That was me. Totally me. Shit.”
You try to kneel beside him. “No, I—”
“No,” he insists gently, looking up at you. “Let me take the blame for this one.”
Jillian’s voice calls out from the living room. “Everything okay in there?”
You open your mouth, ready to take responsibility for the small puddle of red wine blooming across her rug but Jake beats you to it.
“My fault, Jilly,” he calls back immediately, stepping forward like he’s shielding you from gunfire. “Totally my fault. I wasn’t watching where I was going. I’ll clean it up, just tell me where the… uh… supplies are.”
Jillian appears in the doorway, takes one look at the stain, and sighs. “Oh, for God’s sake.” She scans the mess and then Jake. “Hang on.”
She disappears and returns with a small carpet cleaner.
Jake blinks at it. “What—what is that?”
You can’t help the little laugh that escapes you. “It’s a Bissell, Jake.”
“That tells me nothing,” he mutters, staring at it like she just handed him a piece of alien machinery. “Where’s the spray? Or the paper towels? Or—I dunno—salt?”
“Salt? You don’t need any of that,” Jillian says, pressing the Bissell into your hands. “Y/N clearly knows how to use it. So you two can handle it. I put the water in, just add the solution.” And with a suspicious little smirk that feels like it might be intentional, she leaves the room.
You're kneeling beside the stain before you even realize it, flipping open the water tank. “It’s fine. You just fill this up, add a little solution, and—”
Jake crouches next to you, knees brushing yours. “You’re really calm about this.”
“Well… it’s not my rug,” you say with a small laugh.
“Still. You’re cool under pressure.” His voice drops a little. “Always were. I remember that.”
You freeze with the tank half filled. “…Always were?”
He watches your hands, your wrists, the way your fingers move. “Yeah.”
Something inside your chest tightens. You snap the tank back in place and hand him the sprayer. “Okay. Pull this to release the solution as you spray it over the stain.”
Jake takes it carefully. “Got it.”
You both lean over the rug at the same time, shoulders bumping. The sprayer sputters, then releases a thin line of the cleaner. Jake moves it too fast, smearing the wine outward.
“Whoa, okay. Slow,” you laugh, guiding his hand. “You’ll spread it.”
He makes a low, embarrassed sound. “God, sorry. I’m making it worse I think.”
“No, you’re not. Just—here.” You set your hand over his, fingers sliding lightly across the back of his knuckles as you slow his movements.
Jake stills completely.
“Like that,” you whisper.
His eyes flick to your face, “Yeah. Okay.”
You shouldn’t hold on as long as you do. He shouldn’t let you. But neither of you moves. And the moment your palms part, you feel the spark under the skin, the same one that used to catch you off guard at eighteen.
Your mind flashes without your permission.
Cherry Coke exploding across the lunch table. Jake’s startled laugh. His hands fumbling with napkins. Your fingers brushing his as you helped clean up the sticky red mess. The look he gave you then.
You swallow. Hard.
“Y’know,” Jake says quietly, breaking the silence, “this isn’t the first time I’ve spilled something around you.”
You give a tense laugh. “My hands were sticky for hours,” you tease, aiming for light and falling short.
“I remember your hands,” he says softly.
You freeze again.
He seems to catch himself, clearing his throat and shifting back a few inches. “Uh—your hands were always… fast. Efficient. I meant—like—you were good at helping.”
“Uh huh,” you say, trying not to smirk. “That’s what you meant.”
He scrubs a hand through his hair, flustered. “Listen, I’m having a crisis over here.”
You laugh, and the tension softens just enough that you can both breathe again.
Together, slowly, you work at the stain. You guide his hand once more, accidentally on purpose this time. His shoulder brushes yours every few seconds, close enough that you feel the heat of him even when he pulls away.
After a minute, he leans closer, voice dropping into a whisper. “So… how’re we doing? Think Jillian’s gonna murder me?”
You lean in too, your lips brushing the curve of his shoulder before you realize how close you are. “I think you’re safe. Mostly.”
He doesn’t move away. Not even a little.
“I like when you whisper,” he murmurs.
You shouldn’t feel that in your spine. But you do.
You’re still kneeling over the rug, the carpet cleaner humming softly in the quiet room, hands nearly touching again, and neither of you is pretending it’s an accident anymore.
—
When you rejoin the group, the mood is even looser, full from dinner, soft with wine. Everyone’s on couches or the floor with mismatched throw blankets and pillows.
Someone is retelling a story about the senior year powderpuff game, and laughter fills the room like a heartbeat.
Jake drops onto the arm of the couch near you, his thigh brushing your shoulder in a way he definitely doesn’t apologize for. You curl up with your new glass of wine, cheeks still a little warm from the heat in the dining room.
Sarah pipes up. “Okay okay, do you guys remember the bonfire after homecoming? When Henry fell into the lake?”
Henry groans loudly from across the room. “Don’t bring that up.”
Jake laughs, a real, easy laugh that hits you right under the ribs. “Man, you were soaked. Like…completely. I thought you were gonna cry.”
“I did cry, it was fucking freezing.” Henry mutters, making everyone crack up harder.
You can’t help smiling, warmth blossoming in your chest. Nostalgia settles over the room like a blanket. Jake runs his fingers over his chin, feeling the stubble starting to grow there. He glances sideways at you, grinning.
“Hey,” he says under the chatter, nudging your knee lightly with his knuckles. “You remember that night?”
You swallow, surprised by how quickly the past blooms in your mind, the dark field, laughter in the air, all of you young and reckless and full of possibility.
You nod. “Yeah. I remember.”
Jake’s smile deepens. “Hard to forget.”
The conversation moves on around you, but you feel the weight of that moment, that quiet acknowledgment of your shared history, settle between you like something fragile and important.
“Y/N,” he says quietly. Like he’s starting something. Like he’s sure you won’t stop him. And that’s exactly why you have to.
Your heart thuds once, painful and loud, and your brain snaps back to reality so hard you almost flinch.
No. No, no, no. You know better. This can’t happen. Not like this. Not now.
You push a breath out, stand too fast, nearly tripping over a blanket. “I—um.” Your voice cracks. Perfect. “I should actually head out.”
Jillian whines, “What? Now?”
“Yeah.” You force a smile, waving a hand vaguely. “I just remembered I have to be up really early. My mom needs help cooking for Thanksgiving dinner and she’ll freak out if I'm not on time. And if I drink any more I won't be able to drive.”
Jake’s face shifts, a shadow of disappointment flickering across his features before he can hide it. He clears his throat. “Yeah, no, sure. That makes sense.”
You grab your bag and coat as every begins to stir, avoiding the temptation to look at Jake again, because you know if you do, that resolve will crack right down the middle.
“Goodnight everyone, I had a great time!”
“Goodnight, Y/N,” they all say in unison. “We love you! Call us soon! Don’t be a stranger!”
You don’t turn around. You can’t. You force your feet forward, past the now clean rug, past the lingering scent of wine, through the hallway where Jillian eyes you knowingly, and out the door into the cold, because staying one minute longer feels impossible.
And because if you stay, you know exactly what’ll happen.
—
The moment you step out of Jillian and Henry’s house, the cold night air hits you like a reset button. Your lungs seize around it, sharp and bracing, the bite of late November sinking into your bones. You stand on the porch for a second longer than necessary, letting the door close behind you with a soft click.
The sky above Frankenmuth is clear, stars faint behind the glow of the downtown lights, the moon hanging low and cold. You take a deep breath as you walk toward your car, but it’s useless. Your chest is still tight. Jake’s voice is still in your head.
You grip the steering wheel before you’re even fully seated, fingers curling hard into the leather. Your heart thuds painfully against your ribs.
“Why now,” you whisper into the empty car, your breath fogging in the cold.
The drive into town shouldn’t feel like this. You’ve driven these same roads since you were sixteen. The same winding turns, the same bridges over the same quiet water, the same shops lit up like a real life snow globe. But nothing looks familiar tonight because your mind won’t stay with you. It keeps drifting back to kneeling on that rug. Jake’s shoulder brushing yours, your hand on top of his, his breath grazing the side of your face like an accident that definitely wasn’t one.
Your pulse beats wildly.
This is why you left. Why you didn’t come home much. Why you put every crush and spark and almost history between you and Jake in a box with a heavy lid and never dared to peek inside.
Because the second you do, it still burns.
You hit a stoplight at the edge of town and rest your forehead against the steering wheel. The glow of the red reflects across the dashboard, soft and ominous.
“He looks at me like…” You can’t even finish the sentence. You shake your head. “Nope. No. No more of that.”
You’re being ridiculous. It’s the wine. The nostalgia. The crowd, the laughter, the memories flying around the table. Jake being… Jake, but older, more refined, somehow sharper at the same time.
It’s everything. Too much of everything.
You pull into the hotel parking lot, your headlights sweeping across all of the festive decorations. Giant toy soldiers stand guard at the entrance, wreaths wrapped in red velvet ribbon, twinkle lights dripping from the roofline. Frankenmuth really is the Christmas town people claim it to be. Tourists crowd the walkways, bundled in scarves, carrying shopping bags, taking pictures under glowing streetlights. It’s charming and cheerful. But it feels like static in your brain.
You grab your bag from the passenger seat and head inside. The lobby is warm, smelling like cinnamon and pine. A roaring fireplace crackles beside the front desk. Families check in with armfuls of luggage, kids dragging bright red balloons behind them. Couples take selfie after selfie in front of the twelve foot Christmas tree, pretending not to argue. Normally, this would make you smile. Tonight, it’s just noise.
You punch the elevator button and ride up to your floor with two strangers who keep their heads down, murmuring quietly about making dinner reservations. When the doors slide open, you step into the hallway, the carpet muffling your footsteps.
Inside your room, you toss your bag on the bed and go straight to the minibar. You crouch down, open the little fridge, and scan the shelves.
Liquor. More liquor. Even more liquor. Not a single mini wine bottle.
“Of course not,” you mutter, shutting it with your hip.
You stand there in the silence of your room, hands on your hips, staring at your own reflection in the dark television screen. Your hair is a little messy, your cheeks a little flushed, your mascara smudged just slightly at the corners.
Jake’s face flashes in your mind again.
You need something to shut that down for the night.
Then you remember that this hotel has a bar. All you need is just one more glass of wine. One quiet moment to drown out the buzz in your head.
You peel off your sweater and change into a soft long sleeve shirt. Joggers are next. You tie your hair into a messy ponytail with quick fingers. You leave your makeup on, though. You can’t bring yourself to scrub your face in the state you’re in.
You slip into your shoes, grab your room key, and head out again.
The elevator ride down is slower this time. Every floor feels like it stops just long enough to let your thoughts catch up, which is exactly what you don’t want. By the time you hit the lobby, your heart is thudding again.
The bar is small, maybe fifteen seats total. Warm amber light glows above rows of liquor bottles. A Christmas garland wraps around the counter with little gold bells that jingle every time someone shifts. Only a handful of people sit scattered around the room.
You slide onto the far end stool, grateful for the quiet.
The bartender approaches, drying a glass with a white towel. “What can I get you?”
“Red wine,” you say. “Anything dry.”
He nods and turns away, uncorking a bottle. The clink of glass against wood already has you feeling better.
You sigh and let your shoulders drop for the first time all night. You can almost feel the tension unwinding from your spine, the smallest bit of relief creeping in at the idea of being alone for a few minutes.
You tap your nails softly against the bar, trying to ground yourself. Trying not to think about Jake’s whisper by your ear. The way your hand lingered on his. The scandalous, traitorous thought that maybe—
No. Absolutely not. That door is locked. Triple deadbolted.
The bartender sets a glass in front of you just as a faint scuff of footsteps approaches from behind. You’re about to lift your wine when a voice speaks, low and warm and too close.
“Is this seat taken?”
Your stomach free falls. The world around you goes silent. The air leaves your lungs and your fingers tremble around the stem of your glass. Because you know that voice. You shouldn’t. You wish you didn’t. But you do.
You’re praying you’re wrong, but know you aren’t. Your breath catches hard in your chest. You turn in your barstool, heart beating against your ribs, and there he is.
Jake stands just behind the chair next to you. His cheeks are flushed from the cold, or maybe the alcohol at the party. His waves are a little wind swept, as if he ran a hand through them a dozen times on his walk inside. There’s a faint pinkness on the tip of his nose, a soft contrast to the dark coat he shrugs out of.
He looks… unreal in this light. Golden and warm. A little out of place in the best way.
You somehow swallow. “Uh… no. It’s not taken.”
His lips curve, slow and boyish, and he slides into the stool beside you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
He nods at the bartender. “Bourbon, neat please sir.”
God. His voice. Even lower than earlier. Maybe it’s the room, maybe it’s him. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re suddenly very aware of how close you’re sitting, your knees almost touching, and his coat brushing your stool when he shifts.
You grip your wine glass a little tighter. “Wha–what are you doing here?”
He huffs a laugh under his breath, turning slightly toward you. “Same as you, I suppose.”
“What, drowning out memories in alcohol?”
Jake smiles, “Pretty much, yeah.”
You bite back a nervous laugh. The bartender sets his bourbon down, and when he reaches for it, his fingers brush yours on the bar. Just barely. He glances at you, and his eyes soften in a way that steals all the air from your lungs.
“You changed,” he says. “Clothes, I mean. I–I liked the skirt, but… I like this too.” His gaze lingers on you.“And your hair. It…looks good up.”
Heat hits your cheeks so fast it’s humiliating. “Oh. Um. Thanks.”
“Didn’t know you were staying here,” he adds, lifting the bourbon to his lips.
“My parents are renovating my bedroom, I think they are turning it into a home gym,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Surprise gift for themselves, I guess. Guest room is full of boxes of my stuff. They booked me a room here for the weekend.”
Jake nods in understanding, his expression softening. “My parents place is… loud right now. Everyone’s home, with guests, my parents are hosting, and everyone’s sleeping over. I figured I’d just stay in town instead, sleeping bags aren’t really my thing.”
“That tracks,” you say, smiling. “You always did try to avoid chaos.”
“Which is ironic, considering my career choice,” he mutters.
You both sip your drinks, the silence between you full but not uncomfortable.
“So,” you finally say, “Friendsgiving.”
Jake groans. “God.”
You laugh. “It wasn’t that bad.”
“It wasn’t,” he agrees. “Just… unexpected.”
“Yeah,” you murmur. “Definitely unexpected.”
He looks at you over the rim of his glass. “Didn’t know you would be there.”
“Same. Jillian just… texted me last week actually.”
“Yeah, Henry too,” he says. “Said the group hasn’t been all together in a long time. Almost didn’t come, but.”
You nod, twirling your glass. “It was nice. Mostly.”
“Mostly,” Jake echoes, chuckling.
Your shoulders relax. You didn’t expect to feel this comfortable with him. Not again. Not after all these years. But there’s something familiar in sitting next to him like this, like slipping into an old rhythm you didn’t forget as well as you thought.
“High school sure feels like a different lifetime,” you say quietly, surprising yourself.
Jake’s brow lifts. “You still think about it?”
“Sometimes,” you admit. “Random little things. But I try not to get sentimental.”
He smirks faintly. “I remember you said once that nostalgia is a ‘dangerous little liar.’”
“You remember that?”
“I remember a lot.” He sets his bourbon down, turning fully toward you. “Mostly about…you.”
Your heart stops. Literally stops. You blink at him, your lungs trying to remember how to work. “What?”
He shrugs. “It’s true…You know, I just never really made a move because… well, because if I remember correctly, someone told me you weren’t into me like that. That you just wanted to be friends.”
You nearly choke on your wine, “What? No. No way. I thought– I was told you only liked me as a friend.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Who the hell said that?”
“Um– Justin Boswell?”
He sits back, “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Junior year prom after party at Kelsey Winston’s house to be specific."
“That’s—” he shakes his head, laughing in disbelief “—that’s not true. Never was.”
He reaches out and puts his hand on top of yours. The contact is light but solid. Your breath stumbles in your throat.
His voice drops enough that you notice. “I never thought of you as just a friend, Y/N.”
You can’t look away from him. You don’t want to. Maybe it’s the wine, or the way his thumb moves against your skin.
“Well, I’m sure you have women falling all over you now. Cora sure did tonight.”
Jake’s expression deadpans instantly. “Oh my God.”
You laugh, “She was acting pretty thirsty,” you add teasingly.
“Desperate,” he corrects.
“Interested.”
“Relentless.”
“Persistent.”
He groans, covering his face for a second. “You’re enjoying this.”
“A little.”
He drops his hand, his eyes fixing on yours again. “I know it probably seems like I deal with that all the time. But I don’t typically go for that type of thing.”
“No?”
“No.” He leans in a bit, voice lower. “Never have. I need… more substance than that.”
You swallow. “Oh.”
His gaze dips briefly to your mouth before rising again. “And before you say that you don’t…yes. You have that. Always have.”
Your pulse kicks into overdrive. Your voice is barely a whisper. “How about now? Do you still feel that way?”
Jake’s answer is immediate.
“Do you think I would’ve left the party if I didn’t?”
The air between you sharpens, and neither of you looks away. His eyes are still locked on yours when he shifts, just slightly, but enough that his knee brushes your thigh.
Your heart pounds hard enough to feel it in your wrists.
Jake notices everything, your uneven breath, the way you’re staring at his mouth instead of his eyes, the way your fingers curl and uncurl against the bar as if you’re trying to keep yourself from touching him.
“Y/N…” he murmurs, softer than before. “You alright?”
No. Absolutely not.
You nod anyway.
He smirks, not cocky, but like he knows exactly what’s happening between you both. Exactly what you’re pretending not to feel.
His voice drops. “You’re lying.”
Your stomach flips so violently you have to grip the bar’s edge.
“Why would I lie?” you whisper.
Jake’s gaze dips to your mouth again, and when he lifts it back to your eyes, there’s something almost hungry there.
“Maybe,” he says, his voice low and warm, “because you feel the same thing I do.”
You don’t breathe. You don’t speak. You don’t even blink. But out of the corner of your eye, you notice a woman at a nearby table is blatantly watching the two of you. Listening, but pretending not to.
Jake notices her a moment later. His jaw tics. His hand slides off yours like he’s trying not to make a scene… but he stays close. He leans in, voice barely above a whisper, meant only for you.
“She’s listening.”
You flick your eyes toward the woman, then back at him. He gives a quiet, humorless exhale.
“I don’t want her assuming anything,” he murmurs. “Not about you. Or me. Or us.”
Us. Your body tightens at the word.
He watches your reaction, then continues. “I can walk you up to your room if you want to keep talking.” he offers, “Or you can call it a night. Up to you.”
Your heart is pounding against your ribs. You look at his hand on the bar. Long fingers, rings catching the warm light. You imagine them on you. You imagine exactly what you shouldn’t.
“I… want to keep talking,” you say, your breath a little unsteady.
Jake nods slowly, like he was hoping you’d say that.
He stands, pulling out his wallet and tossing a one hundred dollar bill on the bar. He pulls on his coat and settles a hand lightly at the small of your back, guiding you through the bar with a protectiveness that sends heat rolling low in your belly. The hallway to the elevators is quieter, hardly anyone sharing the space with you, but still you can hear your pulse pounding between your ears.
Inside the elevator, the doors slide closed and the two of you are alone. Jake’s breathing shifts. His eyes stay fixed on you, but not on your face…Your mouth. Then your throat. Then lower.
He swallows. “You know,” he says, voice low as the elevator hums upward, “I keep wondering what would’ve happened if we’d told each other the truth back then.”
Your breath catches. “What do you mean?”
He turns fully toward you, the space between your bodies barely a hand’s width.
“I mean…” His eyes drag over you, slow, reverent, hungry. “If I’d known you wanted me.” he pauses, “If you’d known I wanted you.”
It feels like you might melt.
Then, the elevator dings.
The doors slide open, but neither of you moves for a second. Jake finally steps aside, letting you exit first, following close behind. His hand finds your lower back again, gentle and guiding, but intimate. Too intimate for old friends, but not enough for what’s humming between you now.
Your room is halfway down the carpeted hallway and as the two of you finally stop at your door, your fingers start trembling slightly as you slide the keycard into the lock.
The green light flashes and the lock clicks as you nervously open the door.
Jake stands just behind you, hands in his coat pockets like he’s trying to keep them there. He looks at you with an expression that feels loaded.
“See you around?” he asks.
“Stay.” you answer.
“You sure?” he asks, his voice thick.
And without second guessing it, you grab his hand and pull him inside the room with you.
He stumbles forward, catching himself on the wall. The door swings shut behind you with a heavy thud, the sound echoing through your hotel room.
His breath hitches and the look he gives you is nothing short of starved. He stands in the dimness of your hotel room, his chest rising and falling a little faster than before, the soft light from the lamp brushing over his cheekbones.
He doesn’t reach for you. He doesn’t crowd you. He just watches you like he’s trying to memorize what you look like right now.
“What’re you thinking?” you whisper, your voice stuck somewhere in your throat.
He licks his lips slowly, so slowly you feel the sweep of his tongue in your stomach.
“I’m thinking,” he murmurs, “That I should’ve told you a long time ago.”
“Yeah?”
He steps closer. One step. Only one. His boots barely make a sound on the carpet.
“Yeah.” he says simply. “Because I wanted you. Every damn day. And now I feel like a fucking fool for letting you believe otherwise for all this time.”
Your breath stutters. “Jake…”
“But I’m also thinking,” he continues, voice lower now, “that I don’t want to do anything you’ll regret tomorrow.”
Your fingers flex at your sides. “And if I don’t regret it?”
His eyes flash up at you. “Then you need to tell me,” he says, barely above a whisper. “Because I’m hanging on by a single thread right now.”
You step closer. It’s instinctive, almost unconscious, completely drawn to the heat of him.
“Jake,” you breathe, “I…want you.”
He closes his eyes. Just for a second. Like the words physically hit him. His hand twitches at his side as if he wants to grab you but promised himself he wouldn’t.
When he opens his eyes again, they’re darker. Hungrier.
“Say it again,” he whispers.
You swallow. “I want you. I would never regret this.”
His jaw flexes, and he takes another step until you’re standing close enough that his breath brushes your cheek. His restraint is now a living thing between you.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”
You lift your chin. “Then kiss me.”
His breath catches and one hand finally comes up, fingers brushing your jaw with tenderness. His thumb traces your cheekbone like he’s terrified you’ll disappear.
“You’re shaking,” he whispers.
“So are you.”
He lets out a breathy laugh. “Yeah. I am, aren’t I?”
You lean into his touch, and something in him snaps. His other hand rises to the back of your neck, warm and sure, and he pulls your forehead to his. Not kissing. Just breathing each other in.
“You sure?” he murmurs again, voice raw.
“Jake,” you breathe, “kiss me, damnit.”
He exhales like he’s been starved for air. His thumb drags across your bottom lip, slow and soft and devastating. And then finally he leans in. It's just a whisper soft brush of his mouth against yours, testing the edges of a moment neither of you can undo.
Your breath catches and he pulls back a fraction, just enough to look at you. Just enough to give you an out. You grab his coat lapels and pull him in again.
This time, he kisses you.
Fully. Deeply, and slowly. His lips are warm and patient, his hand sliding from your face to your waist, drawing you closer until your bodies meet in a flush of heat.
His breath mixes with yours. His chest is solid against you. His fingers settle at your hip, squeezing, and kissing you like he has waited years for this exact moment.
You drag your fingers through his hair, and he shudders against you. His mouth parts, deepening the kiss with a low, hungry sound you feel everywhere.
Your back meets the wall, and he braces one hand beside your head, not trapping you, just… keeping himself upright.
“God,” he whispers against your mouth, “you taste exactly like I thought you would.”
Your knees nearly buckle at the confession. His lips trail to the side of your jaw, warm and slow, lingering for a second too long. His breath stirs against your skin.
“You have no idea,” he pauses, “how hard it is not to pick you up and throw you onto that bed right fucking now.”
“Then don’t hold back,” you whisper.
He laughs, low and disbelieving, resting his forehead against your temple.
“Y/N,” he says softly, “if I start… I won’t stop.”
You slide your hands down his chest, fingers curling in his denim shirt.
“That’s the point.”
His breath hitches and then he pulls back, eyes burning into yours, his pupils blown with lust. His mouth meets yours again, this time however, it feels more desperate. His mouth is warm and insistent, lips moving over yours with a kind of controlled urgency, like he’s trying not to devour you too fast. You taste the bourbon on his tongue when he licks into your mouth, slow but greedy, and your knees nearly give out.
He groans and pulls you even closer, one hand sliding down to palm your ass through the soft fabric of your joggers.
“F—fuck, come here,” he mutters against your lips, like you aren’t already pressed against him. He kisses you harder, deeper, the kind of kiss that steals your thoughts and replaces them with instinct.
Your fingers push into his hair again, your nails raking against his scalp.
“Don’t do that unless you want me to lose it,” he says, voice rough against your mouth.
“Maybe I do,” you whisper.
He laughs, his breath hot against your lips, and then he’s walking you backwards with slow, purposeful steps until your thighs hit the edge of the bed.
He pulls back just enough to look at you, his chest rising and falling fast. His eyes drag over your face, your lips, your neck, your shirt. All of you.
“Tell me you’re sure you want this,” Jake murmurs. His thumb strokes your jaw, soft in contrast to the tension coiled in his whole body.
“I want this,” you breathe. “I want you, Jake.”
He pulls the curtains closed with one sweep of his arm, the room dimming into soft lamplight. Then he turns back to you, and there’s nothing hesitant left in him.
He steps between your legs, hands sliding beneath your shirt, fingertips grazing your waist. His palms are warm, almost hot, and the simple touch sends a shock through you. He lifts your shirt slowly, watching your face the entire time like he’s memorizing every second of this. When the fabric clears your head, he drops it on the floor and inhales sharply.
“Fuck,” he murmurs, taking you in. “You’re… God, you’re fucking beautiful.”
He runs his hands down your bare sides and then he pushes you back onto the bed. Your body sinks into the mattress, your hair spreading around you, and he follows, bracing a knee on the bed between your legs.
His mouth trails down your neck, soft at first, then hotter, his lips pressing open mouthed kisses along your collarbone and down your chest. He unclasps your bra with one practiced flick before he eases the straps down your shoulders. His knuckles drag lightly over your arms, and when he finally pulls the fabric free, he goes still. Not because he’s hesitating but because he’s looking.
“Jesus Christ…” he exhales, his voice dropping into something rougher. His eyes lift to yours for a second, like he needs to make sure you understand he means every word. “You have… unbelievably perfect tits.”
Heat floods your face, but he’s already lowering his mouth, tracing the slope of one with his palm, almost like he’s afraid to blink and lose the vision lying beneath him.
“I mean it,” he says, thumb circling your nipple lazily, watching it tighten under his touch. “The shape… the size…” His mouth brushes the underside of your breast, warm and wet, and your breath catches in your throat. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”
He seals his lips around your nipple and you arch up into him. Your hand flies to his hair, fingers tangling into the brown locks as his tongue teases you, drawing slow circles around the peak before sucking it into his mouth with a low groan.
You whine as his teeth make contact with the sensitive skin.
“Oh–That sound you just made,” he mutters against your skin, shifting to your other breast. “Do it again.”
He takes more of you into his mouth this time, sucking harder, like he’s claiming you. His free hand cups the other breast, thumb brushing over your nipple in the same rhythm as his tongue, and the sensation goes straight to your core, sharp and low and desperate.
Your thighs clench around his hips instinctively and he feels it.
He smirks against your breast, lips still wrapped around you. “Yeah,” he murmurs, nipping lightly. “That’s what I thought.”
His hand slides down your stomach again, slower than before. Teasing and measuring. He meets your eyes as his fingers hook in your waistband.
“You’re shaking for me,” he says softly.
“I—yeah,” you breathe. “I want—”
“Good,” he interrupts gently, tugging your joggers down over your hips. “Because I want it too.”
He kisses down your sternum, your belly button, the edge of your hipbone, leaving warm trails everywhere his mouth lands. By the time he reaches the hem of your panties, you’re already lifting your hips for him.
He doesn’t pull them off right away. Instead, he presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh… then another… then another, working higher until his breath is warm and slow right over where you ache for him.
“Take them off,” you whisper, trembling.
He looks up at you from between your legs, pupils blown wide, hair falling into his eyes. He slides his hands under the backs of your thighs, spreading you open just a little more.
“Tell me you want my mouth first,” he murmurs. “I wanna hear it.”
He doesn’t move yet, not toward your panties, not toward your skin. He just looks at you from between your thighs like he’s deciding exactly how he wants to ruin you first. Then he pushes up onto his knees with a quiet, determined sound in his throat.
“Hang on,” he says, shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it carelessly toward the chair. “If I’m doing this…” He pulls his shirt over his head in a single fluid motion, muscles shifting under warm lamplight. A cluster of silver necklaces hanging against his chest, “…I’m not doing it half assed. I want to get messy.”
The sight of his bare chest, all lean lines, and a light trail of hair leading down, the flush across his collarbones, hits you hard enough to steal your breath away. You didn’t realize how bad you wanted to see him like this. Wanted him on you like this.
He crawls back down between your legs, slower this time. His hands glide up your thighs, spreading them just a little wider.
“Now,” he murmurs, exhaling warm air over the thin cotton covering your core. “Say it.”
You swallow harshly. “I want your mouth, Jake.”
He grins, “That’s my good girl.”
He hooks his fingers into your panties, finally dragging them down your legs, and his breath catches the second he sees you.
“Oh… sweet thing...” His voice breaks into something raw. “Look how wet you are.”
He slides his hands under your thighs again and pulls you down the bed in one firm tug, settling your hips right at the edge of the mattress. Your legs drape over his shoulders naturally, like his body is made to hold them there.
He kisses the inside of your thigh first, soft and slow. Then higher…and higher.
“You are incredible,” he says against your skin, his nose brushing dangerously close. “I’ve imagined this more times than I should admit out loud.”
Before you can respond, his tongue presses flat against you, dragging a slow, deliberate stripe from your entrance to your clit.
Your whole body jolts.
He groans against you, “Oh, fuck… yeah. That’s it.”
He settles deeper between your legs, mouth sealing over your clit while his hands massage your thighs, holding you open for him. His tongue moves in small circles at first, teasing and patient, savoring you like he’s got all night.
You thread your fingers into his hair, pulling without meaning to. “Jake—”
He hums against you, the vibration shooting straight through your spine.
“Let me,” he murmurs, slurping against your skin. “Let me take my time.”
He slides one hand down, fingers slicking through your arousal. He moans softly at the feel of it before sliding a finger inside you, slow and smooth.
“Oh my god,” you gasp, hips lifting.
He pulls back just enough to speak against your thigh. “Look how you take my fingers, baby. Fuck, I can’t wait to see you take my cock.”
Then his mouth is on you again, sucking and licking, working your clit in steady, rhythmic strokes while his fingers curl inside you, hitting that spot that makes your breath stutter.
You feel the heat coil low and sharp and impossible to ignore.
“Jake—please—don’t stop—”
“Look at me,” he orders softly, lifting his eyes while his mouth stays exactly where you need it. The sight nearly undoes you. “Come for me. Right on my tongue, beautiful.”
The pressure snaps, hot and overwhelming as your orgasm breaks over you, hips bucking into his mouth. He holds you through every shudder, sucking you through it, licking you like he wants every drop. Only when your thighs start to tremble does he finally pull his mouth from you, lips shiny, chin wet, and pupils blown completely wide.
“Messy enough for you?” he teases, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, then leaning forward to kiss your inner thigh again, like he can’t help himself.
You’re still catching your breath when he rises to his feet, unbuckling his belt with slow, deliberate movements. He drops his pants, steps out of them, and then he’s kneeling between your legs, hard and thick, his tip flushed and already dripping for you. He strokes himself once, slowly, curling his fist around his tip while watching the way your eyes fix on him.
“You want me to fuck you, pretty thing?” he asks, voice low and rough.
You swallow, your throat dry and your body still trembling from the high he just dragged out of you. Your voice comes out softer than you expect, but certain.
“Y-yes…” you breathe. “I want you to fuck me, Jake.”
He closes his eyes for a moment, taking in your words. His jaw flexes as he exhales through his nose, steadying himself.
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Yeah, sweetheart… that’s what I needed to hear from that mouth.”
He leans forward, bracing one hand beside your head while the other guides the thick head of his cock through your slick folds. The first glide makes both of you gasp.
“Oh—fuck,” he whispers, eyes squeezing shut again. “You’re so fucking warm. So wet…”
Your hips tilt up instinctively, searching for him. He groans, a deep, desperate sound.
“Please,” you whisper. “Please, Jake, just—”
“I know,” he soothes, kissing you once, slow and warm. “I know, baby… I’ve got you.”
Then he freezes. His breathing is uneven, chest rising and falling hard. He swallows, his eyes locked on where your bodies almost meet.
“Baby…” His voice is rough. “Do you—do you want me to grab a condom?”
It’s not hesitation, just care. A check. A moment of restraint when everything in his body is begging to be inside you.
You shake your head instantly, breathless. “No.”
His eyes snap to yours. “No?” he repeats, voice lower.
“I–I want you,” you whisper. “Just you. I want to feel all of you.”
His jaw flexes, something raw and reverent flickering across his face. He leans down, pressing his forehead to yours, exhaling shakily like your answer wrecked him.
“Shit,” he whispers, voice breaking. “Okay… okay, sweetheart. Only you. Only fucking you.”
He pushes in a little, just enough to part you, and your gasp echoes his.
His voice drops to a growl, “Jesus Christ… you’re tight.”
You dig your nails into his shoulders. “More.”
He kisses your cheek, your jaw, your throat, whispering between each press of his mouth.
“Relax for me, baby… let me in…”
You exhale shakily, and he presses forward again, filling you inch by inch. The stretch is overwhelming in the best way, a deep burn that steals your breath. When he bottoms out, hips flush against yours, he chokes on a sound that’s half a moan and half disbelief.
“Fuck.” His voice breaks. “You feel unreal. I’m not—baby, I’m not gonna last long. Not like this. Not with you.”
“I don’t care,” you whisper, clinging to him. “Move. Jake, move.”
He pulls out an inch, then sinks back into you with a slow, deliberate rock of his hips. The low growl he lets out at the feel of you makes your whole body tighten.
“There you go…” he whispers. “You take me so fucking well, baby. The best.”
Your legs wrap around him on instinct, hooking at his lower back. He groans at the shift, allowing him to get deeper.
“Yeah—keep me there,” he pants. “God, that’s perfect. That’s perfect. Right fucking there.”
He thrusts again, slow, steady, and deep. Every roll of his hips drags against the spot inside you that makes your vision blur and your body feel numb.
Your breath catches on a moan. “Jake… oh my god…”
“That’s it,” he murmurs against your throat. “Let me hear all of it.”
You tilt your hips to meet him and he hisses, grabbing your thigh and pinning it higher on his hip.
“Fuck—don’t do that unless you want me to embarrass myself.”
You gasp out a breathless laugh, nails grazing down his spine. “You feel so good… I can’t—”
“Look at me, Y/N.”
Your eyes snap to him.
“This,” he says softly, thrusting deeper. “This is exactly how I always imagined you… underneath me… wanting me…”
Your breath catches. “You thought about this?”
He groans into your ear. “Shit…You have no idea.”
His rhythm stays torturously slow, slow enough to feel every inch of him.
“Jake—please—I need—”
“I know what you need, baby.” he rasps, lifting himself onto his forearms so he can watch the way your body takes him.
He pulls out almost all the way before sliding back in with one deep, perfect thrust, the sound of your wetness echoing through the room.
“Oh god Jake—”
“That’s it,” he whispers, kissing the corner of your mouth. “I’ve got you.”
Your back arches, pleasure building fast. He feels it, your tightening, your trembling, and his breath stutters against your chest.
“You’re close.” It’s not a question.
You nod, desperate.
“Come for me,” he murmurs, thrusts going just slightly faster, hips angling to hit you exactly right. “Come on my cock, baby girl.”
You fall apart with a broken moan, your back arching as your body clenches around him so tightly he groans loud and unrestrained.
“Oh—fuck Y/N, baby–don’t—fuck—don’t do that—”
You can feel him losing rhythm, feel the tension rip through him as he pulls out quickly, his hand wrapping around himself to finish.
“Fuck, fuck…look at me Y/N—fucking look at me– watch me cum for you.”
Your eyes flick to his, taking him in, in his most vulnerable state, and that’s all it takes.
He groans, hoarse and guttural, as he cums across your chest. The long, hot ropes of his pearly cum landing on your tits, your collarbone, your stomach… your skin flushed and still trembling from your own orgasm. The sight alone nearly makes you start to shake again.
His breath is ragged and uneven, his hand still around himself as the last pulses leave him. His eyes stay fixed on you the whole time, fully admiring the mess he made.
“Jesus Christ,” he whispers, leaning back on his heels, chest heaving. “You’re… god, you’re stunning like this.”
He reaches out immediately, his touch gentle now, running two fingers through the warm slick on your tits, spreading it around reverently before leaning down to kiss the curve of one softly.
“Goddamn perfect,” he murmurs against your skin.
You blush as he cups one breast in his hand, his thumb brushing over your nipple.
“Jake…”
He looks up at you with that soft, post orgasm smile that feels sinful.
“Let me clean you up,” he says quietly, kissing your fingers.
You watch him rise from the bed, the quiet efficiency in his movements grounding you even as your chest still hammers. He disappears into the bathroom for a moment, returning with a towel. His hands are gentle as he wipes you down, careful not to rush, his touch lingering in all the right places. Every movement makes you feel cherished, wanted, and remembered.
He presses one last kiss to the center of your chest before lying back down, propped on an elbow, eyes never leaving yours. “Room’s locked up,” he murmurs, a soft, satisfied smile tugging at his lips.
You shiver at the sound of his voice, the warmth radiating from him so close to your skin. He shifts slightly, curling his body around yours. One arm snakes around your waist, pulling you flush against him, the other brushing softly along your arm, his fingertips tracing invisible patterns over your skin.
“Stay,” you hear yourself whisper, breathless, almost afraid of what he might say.
He smiles, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “Always,” he answers. “I’m not going anywhere.”
The bed is warm, the eternal Christmas lights outside dim and distant. Your back rests against his chest, and you can feel the steady beat of his heart, strong and certain. His hands move naturally, threading with yours, holding you tight.
“I can’t believe all of this,” you murmur, leaning back into him, feeling his chin rest lightly on your shoulder. “After all these years… it’s surreal.”
“I’ve wanted this,” he admits, voice low and husky, a hand curling around yours and squeezing gently. “I’ve thought about it… about you… more times than I can count. I–I want this Y/N. Not just tonight, either.”
You swallow hard, your chest rising and falling against his. “Jake… it’s not that easy. I mean… we hardly know each other now—I mean…we’re in different cities. That’s… a lot.”
He tightens his hold around you, chin brushing over your hair, warm breath fanning your ear. “So its the distance? That’s just a word, Y/N. I’ll go to every length to make this work with us. Every single fucking length.”
You shake your head, turning slightly to meet his gaze, fingers pressing into the crook of his arm. “I don’t know, Jake… I just– I don’t want to get hurt. I can’t just… uproot my life. I mean, you’re in Nashville…”
“I’m not asking you to uproot your life, baby,” he says softly, thumb brushing circles over your hand. “I’m saying we figure it out. Together. I’ll show up. Call. Facetime. Fly out. Fly you out. Be here when you need me. I’m… all in. For you.”
You let out a shaky laugh, eyes closing briefly as you bury your face in the curve of his shoulder. “You always were reckless with your heart, Jacob Kiszka. I’m just… not sure it’s a good idea.”
“Maybe,” he murmurs, lips brushing the side of your head. “But if it’s with you, it’s worth every risk. You’re worth it. Always have been, to me.”
You tense slightly, hesitating, then finally relax into him, letting your hand rest over his, thumb brushing against his knuckles. “And what about your career? Touring? You’re in two bands now, Jake.”
“So you have been keeping up with me…” he grins smugly.
You smack your arm against him playfully, a blush creeping up your body.
He chuckles softly, voice low and confident. “I can make the time. I will make the time. I’ll make it work. You’re too important to not try.” He shifts slightly, the weight of his chest pressing against your back as he snakes an arm around you tighter. “I’ve waited years for this. For something I never even thought could happen. For you. I’m not letting you slip away again.”
You sigh, leaning fully into him, resting your forehead against his shoulder. “I’ve missed you… more than I realized.”
“I know,” he murmurs. “I could feel it. Tonight, when I saw you… I knew.”
The room is quiet except for your slow breaths and the faint hum of the heater. He tilts his head, brushing his lips over the crown of your head. “Let's just sleep. No decisions, no pressure. Just… this.”
You nod, heart fluttering, letting his warmth envelop you. “Okay,” you whisper. “Just… for tonight.”
He presses a gentle kiss to the back of your neck, murmuring softly, “That’s all I need. You. Right here. Right now.”
You shift slightly in the sheets, tangled in the warmth of his body, the scent of him still lingering in the curve of the pillow. Jake’s arm drapes over your waist, fingers brushing your hip, and the room is silent.
After a long pause, you finally speak. “When do you go?”
“Saturday night. My flight leaves Detroit at six.”
You glance up at him, heart skipping a beat. “Saturday?”
“Yeah,” he says, voice low, eyes fixed somewhere beyond the ceiling, as if trying to memorize this moment.
He tilts his head, lips brushing the top of your hair. “I’m sorry,” he says, a little heavier this time, “for… you know, not having the balls back then. When I saw you tonight…I couldn’t… I just couldn’t let you go. I waited all of five minutes before rushing out the door of that party. I talked myself out of it on the drive here, and then there you were, just sitting at the bar like a giant red flashing sign that said ‘don’t fuck this up again’…”
Your chest tightens at his words. “Jake…”
He presses a gentle kiss to your temple, letting the silence stretch for a moment before you speak again. “Will you be home again for Christmas?”
“If I can get away. I have a lot of press on the schedule the next few weeks. But if you’re going to be here, I’m going to try.” he murmurs, and already you feel the weight of the distance pressing on you.
“You’d better,” you tease softly.
“Would you… maybe wait for me until then?” he asks.
You sit up slightly, looking into his eyes, your pulse accelerating. “What? Jake, what are you asking me?”
“You know what I’m asking,” he says, voice dropping. “This isn’t just some fling, Y/N. Not to me.”
“No, I know…” you whisper, shaking your head. “Not for me either.”
He runs a hand down your arm, tracing gentle lines over your skin. “I have a few things to take care of at home,” he admits, “important things, but I won’t be able to focus unless I know you’ll be here at Christmas.”
“I’ll be here,” you say, conviction finally settling in your chest. “I may not be in a hotel then,” you murmur, a faint grin tugging at your lips, “but I’ll be here.”
He nods. “Y/N, you know this won’t be easy. But I swear I will make it worth it.”
“I know,” you say, leaning back against him, letting your fingers intertwine with his.
“Christmas… promise me, Y/N.”
“I promise, Jake,” you breathe, feeling the warmth of his hand over yours, and the press of his body against yours, the two of you sharing the quiet intimacy of knowing you’ve both decided to try.
You settle back against him, his chest rising and falling beneath your cheek, and the room grows quieter with each passing moment. His fingers rub gentle circles over your back, soothing and steady. The weight of him is heavy and comforting, like the world outside has momentarily disappeared. And slowly, inevitably, sleep claims you both.
—
When you wake, the room is quiet. The bed beside you is empty, the weight of him gone, but the sheets still carry the warmth of where he had been. A faint trace of his cologne drifts in the air, catching your senses and making your chest tighten.
Your phone buzzes on the nightstand. You reach for it, heart thudding, and see a message from his number. The same number it had been all those years ago.
Jake K: Christmas. I promise. I’ll be there. Just… wait for me, Y/N.
Your fingers hover over the screen, trembling, caught in that tight place between wanting to answer him and wanting to protect whatever’s left of your heart. Sunlight spills across the tangled sheets, the world outside easing into its usual Thanksgiving chatter, but it all feels far away, muted behind the sound of your own pulse.
Because for the first time in years, the possibility of him, of you and him, isn’t some old daydream. It’s real. It’s here. And it shakes you to your core.
You set the phone back on the nightstand, but your hand doesn’t feel like your own. You breathe in, slow and shaky, staring at the window as if it might give you the answer. Christmas. He said Christmas. You picture it without meaning to…Jake stepping through the cold to find you, smiling like he means it, and reaching for you like he still wants more.
You hate how easily the thought unravels you.
The room is silent, but your heart is loud, thudding with a familiar ache, the one you never quite outran. And you already know what’s happening. You can feel it in the way your chest tightens, in the way your pulse jumps, in the way your mind tries and fails to pretend you’re not hoping.
You’re counting down the seconds.
Already.
Helplessly.
Counting them even as another part of you whispers that you’re a fool, that this is how heartbreak starts, that history has never been kind to you and Jake Kiszka.
But wanting him is a gravity you’ve never been able to fight.
