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
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“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.
One marriage will end a war. One affair will start another.
A collaboration between @jakeyt and @builtbybrokenbells
Latin Legend for the words used throughout the story.
Masterlist
Pairing: Wartime General!Danny x Roman Princess!OC, Gladiator!Jake x Roman Princess!OC (Ancient Rome AU)
Word Count: 6.5k
Warnings: arranged marriage, monarchs, misogyny, anxiety, mentions of death/loss of a parent, mentions of suicide, family tension, violence, mentions of executions, blood/bleeding, severe bodily injury, mentions of sex, infidelity/adultery, betrayals, angst, sorry if i miss any!
a/n: hi guys—it’s been a very long time for me, and I’ve missed you all so dearly. i hope that you guys missed me too, because this story means a whole hell of a lot to me and i am beyond excited to share it with you. what started with a little joke well over a year ago turned into long nights and endless hours of plotting and planning a story that @jakeyt and i hold very close to our hearts. this isn’t my typical kind of story — and i think that’s a good thing. the outline alone pushed me to my limits, and though i’ve been very nervous, i know it’s all worth it. getting to experience it with @jakeyt makes it all the better. i hope you guys enjoy this as much as we do.
to @jakeyt, my co-author, my best friend, american me, my light in the dark—i truly don’t know what i would do without you. in the writing world and real life, you are my rock and what keeps me going, even when i don’t necessarily want to—even from thousands of miles (and a whole ass country) away. i’m beyond lucky to know you, and even more lucky to experience this with you. i love greta van fleet for lots of reasons, but the biggest one being that it gave me you. 🤍
and to anyone who enjoys this story, you can thank her for dragging my sorry ass back here and never, ever giving up on me.
just me yapping for this post, but trust that she feels the exact same way about this story. without further ado, we give you Veni, Vidi, Vici 🫶🏻
Inside the palace, the corridors were quiet—so still and abandoned that a pin drop could be equated to an explosion.
The old cement stone was caked with dust, the precious gems and plated gold leaf on the marble panels were eye-catching normally, but haunting in the moment.
The entire structure seemed to be cracking under the weight of the failure of its leaders.
The open arches in the entryway were filled only with gusts of wind, the absence of life, eerie and off-putting. . . but the heaviness of the feelings living in the sturdiness of the arches had no impact. Their enormous shadows, flooding the ground, yet finding no life to bestow the implications upon.
Palatine Hill, home to royalty and riches alike, safeguarding secrets and deception that would only come out if the community fell down. If we kept it appearing safe, the townsfolk would never know they thrived and suffered from our immoral behavior and choices. If they found out, they would surely put an end to us, which meant we had to guard our own vices with our lives.
To die from or die for, we did not even know. After so many years, the lines began to blur.
At least, that’s what we always chose to believe. We could always see right from wrong, but we never heeded the warnings of the gods — acting as if we were above everyone when in the end, we all bled the same color.
Horribly red — crimson.
The horrors that lived in the building alongside us, the sins and crimes committed by the cold, beating hearts that made home inside, thrummed and pulsed deviously against the walls.
With every tedious throb, the foundations in which we built our lives upon all threatened to give way, but we were too foolish to believe that we were mortal beings capable of being stripped of our power. Our deception had grown so large it had no choice but to break free.
I suppose even the slightest bit of authority could make any mortal man believe he had the taste of immortality on his tongue if felt for long enough.
We weren’t the ones doing the dirty work, our hands clean of the dirt we forced others to dig through. Bloodstains not tainting our skin, but our souls as we ordered our people to fight our battles for us.
Because the suffrage never reached our front stoop, we turned a blind eye, drinking wine from jewel encrusted chalices with the bodies piling just out of sight.
I’m sure if we turned our heads, put down the gluttonous acts and selfish desires for a moment, we would have understood the wreckage we were creating — but we never could.
Palatine Hill was many things — good and bad — but it was home to us.
Augustus, the very first emperor of Rome and his wife Livia, both had houses on the Palatine. It was a good place to start anew, right in the heart of the city overlooking the Roman Forum, which was everything to us.
It served three purposes: political, ritual, and civic.
In short, if not for the Forum, we had nothing.
Tiberius, who reigned after Augustus, created a new residence—the Domus Tiberiana, where Caluga and Claudius lived also. From the very beginning, Palatine was for the riches. All of the emperors lived here, and their descendants too.
Deciding it would be best to become one, to up the security and safety for those that dwelled inside, they devised a plan for themselves and all future rulers.
Not long after, construction began to combine the two palaces, to create one, even mightier solace. For the first few days, progress was plentiful, and the workers were commended for their effort. Then, taking everyone by surprise, a fire broke out in the valley of the Circus Maximus, raging for ten days and amassing the most damage in the center of the city, damage that we had never before known.
Everything from homes to temples were destroyed, leaving us in devastation and forcing the town to believe that we would never recover, until Nero.
Nero, the fifth Roman Emperor, organized the relief, provided temporary housing and removed the destroyed structures. He also enacted safety reform and fireproofing laws in an attempt to prevent and limit further tragedies.
Though he helped and provided immense support and assistance, he did capitalize off of the disaster for his own gain. By the end of his reign, he was notorious for his cruelty and debauchery.
Buying all of the land and constructing his golden palace, thus came the Domus Aurea.
The palace and gardens stretched from the Palatine Hill, across the valley, and to the Esquiline Hill. It was a masterpiece, with 300 rooms, gardens, a private bath complex, and an artificial lake. To this day, there is still a 120 foot statue in the entrance.
The statue is of Nero himself — gilded bronze to showcase the mastermind behind the palace.
At the end of his reign, Nero decided to commit suicide instead of facing death by the Roman Senate, which in my opinion, though not honourable, was the most humane way to go. That left the Domus Aurea vacant, yet still inhabited by the servants and workers.
My Father, Aurelius Octavius, a descendant of Augustus himself, was next in line.
My pregnant Mother in tow, he took the palace like he took the power — with vigor. An unrelenting and stringent attitude left the townspeople believing he was harsh and cruel—in the beginning, the ideas and speculations were a touch out of proportion, but as time went on, he certainly grew into the titles as if they were always meant to be his.
Hoping for a boy, an heir, he made home in the new and strange place with a sort of naivety that back then, was lethal. With only a few short weeks until Fatherhood, he made quick work of reforming the city state into what he wished it to be.
Focusing on the military specifically, he assured the people war would not come soon, but we would be prepared if such things were to happen. The servants quickly learned their place in his ranks, and learned that it was lower than ever before. He was a callous man who held little regard for the people around him if their status did not equate to his own.
And, for the first eighteen years of my life, I shared that belief. Where it led us was worse than what we ever imagined. Though, if deserving was the question, I would have always agreed. We deserved every unrighteous thing that came our way. . . I’d known since I could understand morality that how we behaved as imperials wasn’t right. . . It was just how we’d taught ourselves to be.
The suffrage we endured was nothing short of our own doing, and though he could never see it that way, I never failed to. And that fact alone served as the reassuring proof that he and I were never as alike as I once naively believed.
My Mother, from what I was told, was a vibrant young woman who had more kindness than any other empress who reigned.
Betrothed to my Father at only sixteen, I’d heard many times by the servants around me, amongst themselves discussing her. These servants who raised me. . . They often said that not even my Father’s innate darkness could diminish my Mother’s light.
Oftentimes, I was told I was the picture of her.
“A walking embodiment. . .,” I’d hear. “As though she never left. . .’
Although, I was never sure if the sentiments were true or not. I liked to believe they were, because a likeness to her meant less of one to him.
Unfortunately, I’d never know for sure if it was the truth or pure grievance from the maids. . . Wishing her back, somehow. Because, it was not long after they took power, she endured what was believed to be the greatest sacrifice a woman could ever make.
Surrounded by a team of midwives and assistants, she went through a plethora of religious rituals in hopes of bringing me into the world safely. In a room, sat upon a birthing chair as she was slathered with oils and sponge bathed with warm water, she struggled for three whole days.
Juno Lucina, the primary deity presiding over childbirth, facilitated labour for her. Postverta and Prosa averted breech birth, and Vagitanus or Vaticanus—both the same, opened my mouth for my very first cry.
Soranus recommended two women stand beside the birthing chair and one in front, holding the pregnant woman in support. For three days, they exhausted themselves, waiting to feel the presence of such deities to take the pressure off of them.
Though. . . it never came.
On the second day, they sent other women to retrieve herbs used in healing remedies and amulets to ease the pain of labour and accelerate a safe birth.
And finally, on the night of the first full moon of the fall, nearest to the equinox, I took my first breath.
It is without explanation that I don’t remember it. . . but like all newborns, I know, without a single doubt, that it was agony. I cried, screamed, red in the face as I protested the lack of comfort my Mother provided.
Little did I know, I would never experience it again.
Her body, too weak to live from the pain and the extreme loss of blood.
My Mother, Prima Claudia, (or Claudia, daughter of Claudius—a tradition to name daughters after their Fathers on a numeric basis to which she fell victim to), took her very last breath on that birthing chair. Her lungs, unable to withstand the pressure as she succumbed to eternal sleep without ever holding me or calling me by name.
I think, though I never knew for certain, that a part of me went with her. I never knew her, never knew the difference, but I felt it. Something missing, something that I could never have.
I wasn’t sure what hurt more, the grief of the loss, or the grief of not knowing.
I figured it had to be the not knowing, because I did not understand how a person could grieve a loss they never felt in the first place.
Then again, it was not the loss of the person I did not know, but the loss I felt in every aspect of my life. I felt her absence, almost more than anything else, nearly every day.
I was put in the care of a servant for my adolescence, a woman by the name of Agnes who would cater to my every need. She fed, clothed and bathed me, taught me right from wrong, how to read and write, held me while I cried and tended to my scraped knees.
She was, and always has been, my Mother though she did not carry me.
When she took on the burden of me, she was no older than I am now. Nearing her second decade and still full of life, she gave everything for me with a promise of nothing in return.
Why she ever did such a thing, I do not know, but what I do know is that for the first eighteen years of my life, she taught me trust. For the first eighteen years of my life, she was the only person I could trust.
Hand in hand with the former, she was the only friend I had ever known. She was my whole world, and though my world has grown since then, she never strayed too far.
For those several years, my Father grieved. He pawned me off to another, as he lived under the guise of sorrow.
Or so he said, anyhow.
We knew the difference, even if he would never confess to the atrocities he was planning and plotting.
My Father and I sat together at mealtimes, and occasionally he checked in on me. Very rarely did he hug me, and seldom did he say he loved me. I always knew he was my Father.
And, even though times were different back then, than now. . . When I viewed him in a more respectable light. . . I still couldn’t shake the feeling of discontent.
When I thought about having children, I could not picture their Father being so uninterested… uninvolved with their offspring.
I was under the impression that I would love the one I married, that we would build upon that love and create life.
I suppose we did, but it was never the way I imagined it.
When I was walking and muttering a few foreign words here and there, a new woman moved into the palace.
My Mother’s place in my Father’s bed, filled by another. I never did speak to her much, mostly because I couldn’t. Just like any fairly young toddler, I knew how to express for necessities, but not much else.
However, I noticed a few things about this woman. . . Even as young as I was, a few things stuck out that I’ve never forgotten. Sealed in my memory.
From what I could recall, she was pretty – young and glowing in a way I had never seen from another woman before, even if she was a bit downtrodden.
Though, sad as she was, I remember my Father being more alive than I’d ever witnessed. It was odd to witness, to say the very least. Instead of hiding away in his chambers, the man saw more of the light of day than I’d ever witnessed beforehand.
The most prominent thing that sticks out in my memory of this woman, though, was her belly. It was round. . . not huge, but round. No one seemed to notice it but me, though. The day she walked through the halls for the first time, intermittently, she’d held it protectively. That day, I didn't know what it was. But now, I obviously know she was with child. Although, looking back, I am almost completely certain my Father didn’t know it when he first invited her in.
He’d loved the reality of a woman accompanying him, warming his bed, and complimenting him. . . And she had simply loved the security.
From her first day in the palace and on, I remember the bump growing. . . . and people noticing it as it grew. A hand underneath it, the robes she wore, taut over the bump below it.
I found out later on down the line that her husband, the emperor of a nearby city state, had died. I never found out how, but I suppose it wasn’t important. She went in search of sovereignty, not knowing how to function without someone else in control of her. Grief stricken and riddled with fear, she caught wind of the emperor, widowed for two and a half years, who had not yet found a wife.
She played a nasty game, but my Father had been a fool for her. He fell for it, and he’d been suffering the consequences ever since. She gave birth to a child, a boy — Joshua.
And, while Joshua was a male, he was not the male heir my Father had always wanted. He couldn’t be, considering Joshua wasn’t his. . . .
Just as I had (inadvertently) known and my Father came to find, she had been pregnant before she ever showed up at his door. The new Empress had tricked him into taking them both in. I can still hear the screams emitted from my Father, and the howling cries that left the woman’s mouth, on the night that I’m assuming she revealed the truth to him. . . .
I always wondered why my Father allowed it; why did the boy survive and why had she continued to live under our roof?
All I could assume was that it wasn’t ever a pure want of my Father’s for her to stay.
After my Mother died, he had changed—in everyone’s opinion, for the worst. The older I became, I figured my Father and this woman must have made some kind of a deal, to never let the general public know that the boy wasn’t his. That seemed to be the only thing that made any kind of sense.
The boy was, in fact, a prince, by blood (his Father) and circumstance (my Father), but not in line for the throne. So, even as my Father raised him, provided for him. . . . . my Father never let him live under the impression he would inherit the riches of Rome. My Father would never allow such nonsense.
Even if I was not the boy he wanted, I was my Father’s one and only child by blood. So, the riches and the kingdom were mine (or my husband’s, rather, who would be of my Father’s choosing).
And though the boy always knew that, it did not make much difference in how he behaved like an entitled prince. He was still spoiled, rude and ruthless. And, I believe that my Father always loved him more than he ever loved me. This boy was raised to be a mini version of my Father — cruel and unjust in his golden crown. . . Looking back on it, I can now understand where he learned those heinous qualities.
The spoiled prince, Joshua, was only three years old, by the time his mother was gone too. A five year old motherless girl, and a three year old motherless boy. . . .
I never knew why she’d died, but I suppose it was just another thing that didn’t matter much in the long run. She’d never carried my Father’s offspring, never truly provided for his future. And I knew that was all he wanted me to know — all I needed to know.
My Father forbade me from speaking about her, but her dim-witted, self obsessed son stayed. I never cared, really, that I couldn’t speak of the woman. She didn’t mean much to me at all. I was most upset about Joshua staying, even after his Mother left to live in the dirt. I eventually grew accustomed to his presence, but I never became comfortable with it.
He was a nuisance, truly unbearable to be around and impossible to please. He was always loud, mean and angry. He didn’t have to work for anything, and power turned him rotten from the inside. He knew no empathy for any living being, and he enjoyed watching the suffering he caused.
Joshua and I were never siblings, per se. I despised ever referring to myself as such. . . But, of course, I had to. . . to keep up the charade that all of Rome believed. Everyone, in like mind, was led to believe that Joshua was the Emperor's blood, just as much as I was.
They tried to raise us as such. And, even though we fought using the title of ‘siblings’ we’d lost, tooth and nail, in the gruesome battle – every time.
In the very beginning, before he gained his own tortuous traits, we played together, ate together, but we never really liked each other. When we broke double digits, we had to be separated by at least a single guard at all times, because we tried to attack when the other was least expecting it. He was insufferable. And, though my Father agreed to a certain extent, he was much too forgiving of such behavior, since it was so similar to his own. I think he felt obligated to take care of him, which I never understood.
Even if not a blood heir, in order to keep with the image, Joshua was given his own tasks as an imperial.
And, one of those — Joshua’s most favorite — was reigning as the imperial in charge of running the whereabouts in the Colosseum. It was Joshua’s very own, humongous sandbox. All of Rome would watch as he’d use his utterly disgusting hands to enact the most deplorable events amongst the gladiators. There were a few times where his inhumane assignments for his ‘performers’ (nay, trained fighters) had sent me running to the nearest area to rid the contents of my stomach.
Crudelis. Saevus. Atrox. Plain as day, utterly barbarous.
Yet, the crowds only encouraged it. Truthfully, they were all revolting savages.
If I had it my way, I would have sent Joshua to the Colosseum where he could test his arrogance and so thought strength, instead of commanding others to fight for his own entertainment. Apparently, wanting such things was cruel and inhumane, according to my Father, because ‘he was family, after all.’
Apparently commanding cruelty is only applicable upon common folk, slaves, and criminals. . . the people below us, the only people who were ‘deserving’ of such things, according to my Father and stepbrother.
The people within the pristine walls of this palace, that quite actually — actively — defiled the lives of the less fortunate. . . .their lives were spared of viciousness. . . as the walls ached in silence, the halls humming with ancient loneliness.
And, now. . . . on this day, within the castle. . . the structure seems to moan in agony.
Today, it was so still and barren – fitting for the way my chest and stomach lurched against nothing. Not a breath of life was within the walls, for even the servants had left.
The boom was outside, coming from the chattering crowd that was half enthusiastic and half raging, furious at such circumstances occurring for one and all to bear witness. . . .
Save for me. But now that I knew of the things occurring outside the innermost parts of these haunted halls?
I was not only part of the latter, I was creating a brand new category of my own. . . Wrath; a red hot rush for vengeance and death coursed through my veins. I only wished the worst upon those enacting such crimes outside of my home.
My feet began to throb, surely blistering as I ran, for all I was worth, down these echoing halls. I kept on, as fast as my legs would allow. My delicate, ropy sandals slammed against the mosaic floors. . .
My dress kept getting in the way. Though a simple gown, the silk material kept clinging to my body as the wind forced it against me. The swooshing of the fabric, against my furiously warm legs, was slowing me down.
Not thinking a thing of it, I reached down and ripped at the silk curling around my legs with a strength brought on by pure, unadulterated anger. And in one fell swoop, there was a rip up one leg of the flowing dress, allowing more room for me to rush down the corridor.
I was sure I was the only one left inside, the only one who had not been informed of the events set to unfold in the courtyard. I was running so fast it felt like I was flying, my hair flowing behind me as my weepy eyes struggled to find the right path. The tears, both shed and unshed, blinded me.
Down the entrance corridor, the closer I got to the pooling sunlight, I could begin to hear the crowd more clearly. Their words were a jumbled mess of an emotion I couldn’t quite gauge.
As I approached the end, the heat sweltering as it began to suffocate me, I ran into a roadblock. The crowd was so thick that I could not see through it. I knew I would have to push my way through it to stop it.
My heart actually burned, as it beat with a sense of urgency I’d never thought to imagine. The muscle threatened to shatter my ribcage, my panic so large that it had grown bigger than even myself.
My mouth was dry, my throat scratching as I tried to swallow my own fear. With a newfound strength, I forced my way through the bodies standing shoulder to shoulder, sparing no mercy as I tripped over myself to get through.
The sun was blinding, so high in the sky it was nearly searing my skin to a crisp.
Midday. High noon. Right after lunch.
The time was exact. Without question, anyone would know what was happening on the other side of the crowd…
But I could not let it—I refused to believe it was too late.
Halfway through the crowd, I began to notice the discontent of the people around me. Whether it be for the scorching heat of the day, or for the barbaric action that was set to take place, I did not know.
But, I did not stop long enough to face their misery.
No. I had to get to him.
My arms were on fire. The muscles in my biceps felt like hot lead under my sun kissed skin. The insides of my thighs, burning with the nonstop exertion of my speed. . .
Yet, ironically, the initial burn between them, of his doing. The man held at the front of the crowd, having left a lasting impact from nearly fifty hours’ past. The strength of him against me— inside of me. . . It now made the ache worsen as I clambered over and through people to get. to. him.
Two nights’ past: an evening I would not soon forget. . .
That muggy evening, a breeze coming in through the open windows, only often enough to not make me lose all consciousness as he took me; the beating of my heart, matching the passion of his movements within me. I could still feel the cool stone wall pressed against my back.
In a neglected corridor in the palace, my moans daring to bounce off the walls, if not swallowed by his mouth. Neither of us wanted to wake anyone. . . We’d been insistent on doing our best to keep our relations to ourselves, while submitting to our devastating, carnal desires.
The only time I could see him were hours such as a couple nights ago—when the moon was at its brightest, the day gone to let the black of night cover every sin that happened under its sky.
And now, I knew he was hung up to pay for my wrongdoings. He was being made a spectacle, as he suffered for my choices. . . ones that I knew would hurt him far more than they would myself.
From birth, the throne had taught me selfishness. And as I grew, I could never outrun it. Raised with an understanding that self-servient was the only thing I would ever be. In that corridor, I’d most likely ended life as we knew it. . . but I hadn’t believed it would happen so fast. . .
At that moment, in the dead of night, he had been my only thought. His name, the only cry on my lips, the motion of my body. . . .
All of it, everything — him.
My Jacob.
Whomever had come to find us out, and orchestrated such things occurring in the palace’s entry. . . It was unbeknownst to me. Though, I could certainly guess. . .
As I forced through the crowd, limbs aching and heart pounding as I collided with still bodies amassed like stone, I felt the world crash down around me. All of the riches, the gold and jewels, the fine wine and the power, could not make up for this. None of it was worth this.
A life on the line, yes. But not just any life. . . Not to me. I would have traded every comfort I had ever known to assure his safety — but I feared I was much too late.
My white robes, torn by hand and soiled with dirt as I finally pushed my way to the front of the crowd. My dress, reflective of my state of mind.
Tears welled in my eyes, betraying my brain as I willed myself to stay calm.
Maybe, it was all blown out of proportion.
Maybe, Agnes was wrong when she’d slipped and told me of this heinous occurrence upon Jacob’s life. Though, unfortunately, I had never known Agnes to be such a thing as wrong.
I also knew better than anyone that whispers and rumors flew faster than the wind. . . So, perhaps what Agnes had heard was smaller than it truly was. I was hoping so, but like always, it would surely be crushed before my hope could even make any sort of difference.
First, I did not see him—Jacob. I couldn’t get a good eye on the man I had sprinted a marathon for—the man for whom I was willing to give up everything I’d ever known.
Instead, perched on a makeshift throne, staring down at the chaos he caused, was my brother. Joshua.
When I thought before that I knew the extent of Joshua’s evil. . . I didn’t understand. Not until today.
Catching sight of his eyes at this moment, as they shone with malice. His expression, conveying not only his enjoyment, but his excitement. I could feel my stomach curdling, I knew in no time, I was going to be sick. His hands, actually stained with blood. And knowing whose blood it was, on his pearly hands. . .
Though Jacob was not innocent, he wasn’t anywhere near the man Joshua had chosen to view him. He was not guilty of the crimes Joshua chose to believe (or make believe) he committed. . . Jacob was nowhere near a villain.
Joshua was the monster. I could have set him on fire in an instant. My brother, not even the equivalent of a human life to me anymore. He couldn’t be. Joshua did not possess the very things that made one human. . . He was taken by cruelty and in love with violence.
He could only sleep at night if he knew he’d caused unrest and suffering amongst the less fortunate. And right now? That ‘less fortunate’ was the man I loved.
“Aurelia—.”
That voice.
Daniel. My Daniel.
His dulcet voice, the velvet smoothness of his tone. Finer and more beautiful than a singular thread in my once-pristine gown. . .
His voice, one I hadn’t heard in far too long.
It shook me to my core to hear him again. My knees went weak, my head spinning as my gaze snapped towards the speaker.
“Do not come any further,” he was speaking loudly — much louder, and with more command than I’d initially registered. . . And he was speaking to me, from beside Joshua.
He was so near to Joshua. Too near.
My husband, the man whose ring I wore. . . He was, essentially, standing at Joshua’s right hand.
The tears that had steadily welled. . .they finally broke the barrier at the sight, soaking my cheeks as betrayal crossed my features. Out of all the people in the world, I never expected it to be him responsible for this.
Though, out of all the world, he would have been the most justified if he were the deciding man.
“Daniel,” I spoke, voice surprisingly cutting above the rest. My voice was weak, though, breaking as I fought the flames lapping at my bones. Never before did I believe mental anguish could kill like a physical wound.
But at that moment, I felt as though this pain felt more lethal than any physical puncture could feel.
I longed to find comfort in him at this horrendous moment.
Mea Columba. My Daniel.
His long curls were still as dark as his irises, but now bleached from days spent beneath the blazing sun. Those handsome curls, tickling the tops of his strong shoulders. His hair was longer than the last time I had seen him. His skin, weather worn and wounded, sun kissed and somehow still radiant.
His robes were torn, very similar to my own, yet for a cause much more noble. He fought for our nation—his nation, now, thanks to me. . . All while I fought for my own selfish desires.
Standing there, his brown eyes were filled with ghosts and horrors he would never let me see. And still, this beautiful man looked at me like I was the very center of the universe—like I was the thing the planets chose to orbit.
Not in a million lifetimes would I ever deserve the husband who stared at me at this moment—the very man who had given his life, his heart, his soul for me. . .
Knowing that, I still couldn’t stop myself, the sins I committed, so large and atrocious, that I feared I was the sin. . . But I couldn’t not commit them. Truly, it was out of my power.
My heart was split evenly down the middle — pulling me towards Daniel, my salvation, and Jacob, my greatest sin.
“Euge! Filth from the sand returns to sand by day’s end! Strike him again!”
“Bleed him like a pig before his head hits the ground! Haec age!”
Too soon, as I heard the rather cruel words leave the mouths of the townspeople beside me, I came back to the moment.
My eyes went to Daniel’s fist, where it rested around the hilt of his Spatha.
I was back to horrifyingly believing that he was the one responsible for such a scene, all of the love in my heart for him—instantly burning straight to hate.
How could he?
Mea Columba — how could he do this to me? I did not know. Even if I had slaughtered his heart, tearing down everything we’d built. . . This was still something that would shatter me. If Jacob’s breath left his lungs, I’d lose half of me.
Would my Daniel want that? At this point, maybe he would. . . In order to have all of me to himself again.
I didn’t know for sure.
What I did know was that I had to speak to stop this. Not for me, but for Jacob.
No matter if it would incriminate me, I had to speak up for him. I knew I would live to regret my silence for the rest of my life.
Finally, my head turned just as the executioner raised his whip above his head and prepared to strike again.
And finally, I let my eyes find the other piece of my heart.
Jacob. Luna Mea. . . My Moon.
On the ground, his knees scuffed and dirty against the filthy pedestal he kneeled upon. His hands, bound behind his back.
My soul, torn in two.
One half, with a sword in his hand, preparing to end it all; and the other, on his knees, paying for crimes I had committed.
The twisted trick of fate, mocking me as my tongue tied and words failed me.
I had to stop it, but how?
How to stop it when I knew the nature of our relationship, when I knew the consequences before it ever came to fruition?
How to stop it when the power was never in my hands to begin with? A fool I was to ever believe I could trick the gods and their fates. . .
Then. . .
It was almost like he heard my heart. . . My innermost thoughts. . . Almost like the silent pleas were louder than the shouting of the crowd around us.
His head, long, wavy, chestnut locks, stuck to the rippling muscle in his bronzed shoulders. He turned around, over his shoulder. His face, twisted with pain and the light no longer shining in his eyes — those irises, like chocolate steeped in gold.
He was still as beautiful as ever—even with the monstrous blood splatter on his skin.
The clench of his jaw, the steady set of his eyes on mine. . . Both of these things, a silent reassurance that he would take the punishment again and again if it meant he could have me. The sorrow that was undoubtedly glazing his irises was not for his impending demise. . .
No, it was because he would not get to spend another night by my side, whispering promises about a life we knew would never be within reach.
I felt my knees hit the stone walkway beneath me, the pain radiating before I ever registered I was falling.
My mouth hung agape in horror. I could not even vocalize the feeling ravaging my insides. Crimson blood, springing from my knees’ new scrapes. The sting of the cuts was hardly registered as it stained the silk of my white robes. . .
Yet another sick trick of the world, a display of the consummating Jacob and I had tended to, to fulfill our sinful endeavours.
As he held my gaze, the air around us hung thick and the crowd disappeared behind us. . .
I could see his lips move, though no sound came out. I didn’t need the sound, however, as I had no trouble reading those pretty lips.
His message, meant for just the two of us, and received exactly as intended.
“It’s okay, my Pulchra Puella. . . Cor Meum.”
The onslaught of fresh tears was sudden. The tears, molten tracks down my cheeks, staining my skin with the sheer love they displayed for the man on his knees before me. . .
And though not spoken, I could recognize the curve of his lip as he’d mouthed the words. I could hear his voice in my ears, the thick rasp of his tone I’d grown so familiar with, like he was standing right behind me again. . .
For a moment, I was back in the walls of the palace. Just the two of us. . . My body pressed against the stone wall, surrendering to him. The heat of smooth, firm chest, against my back as my eyes rolled back in bliss. . .
I could feel the strength of his arms holding me, imprisoning me, sealing the terrible fate we’d been busy creating ourselves.
In the present, his eyes were still on my own; he did not need to say another word, nor did I. I was confident that we both believed the same: that every single second spent together was worth whatever punishment it brought forth.
Though, I did not want him to do it all himself.
Another whip raised and slashed his back open, blood splattering everywhere. . . And I knew I had to rise from the ground for him. I had to do what I could.
Except—he shook his head at my action. His eyes were stern with me as he mouthed more my way.
“Ne auderis,” he cautioned, the heat in his eyes making my heart beat even more erratically. His jaw was set, intent on me understanding what he told me to do was, in fact, the final word. “Protect yourself, Cor Meum.”
I knew he didn’t want me to argue it or detest his instruction. . . But my soul longed to run up to him and throw myself in harm’s way for him. . .
Though, I was well aware that he would never want me to insert myself into a dangerous situation for his safety. Any punishment inflicted on me would cause him more agony than the lashings. . .
That much was as clear as the sky on this day.
I just needed him to be okay, to see through to the end of this day. . . And all of the days to come.
Yet, I was terrified that, at this point, it was far too much to ask.
A life, his life being spared. . . That would be the godless act to this crowd around us. . . And to the evil ones inflicting this, that would be the devilish request.
But that wouldn’t stop me. None of it would stop me from finding a solution — and finding one hastily.
For, there was no retribution extreme enough to keep me away from him.
And though I feared he would not live to speak the same sentiment, I knew deep in my heart that he felt just the same for me.
WARNINGS FOR THIS SERIES: 18+ MINORS DNI - Alcohol, Smoking, Marijuana, Cocaine, Cursing, Dramatic Themes. Smut Including: Kissing, Touching, Making Out, Light Degradation, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Biting, Fingering, Name Calling, Edging, Unprotected Sex, Digital Penetration, Pet Names, Spanking. Angst Including: Mentions of Drug Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Mentions of Violence, Manipulation, Jealousy, Mentions of Violence, Mentions of Weapons, Mentions of Death, Physical Fighting, Blood and more...
Another fantastic project written in collaboration with my bestie @gretavanmoon.
Black Sheep Playlist: Apple Music | Spotify
11:24. Perfect.
You slip your Blackberry back into your purse, trying your best to ignore the never-ending string of missed phone calls inviting you out for drinks or to brunch tomorrow morning. You don’t care about those people. Fuck, all they want is to use you for your status. You’re hot, you get it. You’d want to end up in the tabloids next to you, too. Get chased by paparazzi all night, end up in the back of a limo with the next Video Vixen popping champagne bottles while Jay-Z blasts from the speakers. All for the thrill. All for the attention. But not enough for you to give them the time of day.
Anyway, the night is young.
You're already drunk when it really starts. Not the messy kind of drunk, but the shiny glittering kind that makes you feel invincible. As if the blood in your veins was replaced with champagne. You’d left the party uptown, the vibes less than thrilling. Everyone believing they are too cool to dance, and too bored not to gossip about each other. Now you’re crossing the city toward another one, chasing the next high before this one dares to fade.
The doorman here doesn't ask your name. He doesn't have to. He just presses the elevator button and steps aside as you glide past him, a hot mess of leopard print and stilettos. The mirrored walls of the elevator catch you from every angle, multiplying your reflection into infinity. A silk slip dress clings to your body, silver in the low light, the lace tracing up your thighs like a ribbon of smoke. An oversized fur coat hangs off your shoulders, acting more as an accessory than providing actual warmth. You don’t need that. That’s what the alcohol is for.
You pull your red lipstick from your bag and drag it over your lips before topping it off with a layer of glitter gloss. You’ve done this a thousand times, in backseats and bathrooms and hallways that reek of money and lies. Your eyes, glassy and sharp, flicker up to meet your reflection. You smile at yourself, a lazy, dangerous smile. You pull your flask from your bag, tilting up the last bit of it to warm your lips before getting to your destination.
The elevator dings and the doors open into the penthouse where music bleeds from the crowded corridor. It’s some sort of hazy electronic music that is sleek and hypnotic, only adding to the buzz from your three shots of Grey Goose at the last spot. The sound of the bass makes the room seem expensive. Warm golden light spills over the marble floors as laughter and clinking glasses carries through the hall.
You step out into it all. The noise, the people, the bodies and the heat. You know most of these people, and they know you. You drift through the penthouse doors, the pulse of the music washing over you. The crowd parts almost automatically, some with smiles, and some with annoyance. They’ve seen this all before. The way you move, the way you probably laugh too loud, the way your heels announce your presence. You don’t even have to look around to see who’s watching you. You just know that they are. You can feel it. Every whisper, every sideways glance feeds the need inside you.
Your father has funded your every whim. It’s as if Manhattan itself bends in your presence, but tonight, it feels like you’ve earned the attention yourself. The space, the eyes, the fascination.
The penthouse is a jungle of velvet and chrome and warm lighting. Champagne sweats in crystal flutes as laughter bounces off the high ceilings. Some wannabe socialite bumps into your arm, barely apologizing, and still you smile. Your coat slips off your shoulders, now falling to your elbows, revealing more silk than should be legal. You can feel the new eyes on you, and you love it.
Yet, there is still a sliver of emptiness inside you. You’ve been to enough parties to know this game. Everyone is performing. Everyone is pretending, and you’re the only one allowed to forget. To feel. Only it’s not a feeling. It's the haze of someone who’s never wanted for anything until right now.
As you pull a glass of bubbly from the table, someone brushes past and murmurs something that meant to hurt you. You don’t hear it clearly, but your body tenses before your brain catches up. A sarcastic laugh leaves your lips.
“Careful,” you warn, “I bite when provoked.”
And maybe you do. Maybe tonight is going to be the night that everyone realizes that the pretty girl in the silk and fur is untouchable. Or maybe she's just a mess. Either way, it doesn't matter. This city is cold and huge and the music is heavy, and you’re alive in a way that feels dangerously good.
You weave through the crowd with your crystal flute raised, smiles thrown around carelessly with words that are half mean and half flirty. The adrenaline of the alcohol is sharpening your movements in a way that makes you feel lethal. You glance down at the champagne in your hand and take a sip, letting it burn all the way down. You're dizzy, sure, but steady enough. For now anyway.
You’re here for something special, and like magic it appears. You spot him near the balcony, leaning against the railing like he owns the place, though both of you know he doesn't. A quick glance around tells you no one is paying attention right now, and that's exactly what you want.
“Bradley,” you purr, sliding your hand into his arm as you brush past. “Bathroom?”
He grins, a cocky smile plastered to his face as he nods. “You know the way.”
The hallway is dim, the thrum of the bass fading behind you as you slip past the velvet ropes and a few drunk party goers. The bathroom door closes with a solid click, shutting out the noise and chaos behind it. Inside it’s tight, nearly suffocating in a messed up luxurious way. Marble counters and chrome fixtures, the faint metallic scent of an expensive cleaning service.
After making sure you’re alone, you shrug off your coat, letting it fall to the floor. Your dress clings to you and you're mildly aware of how the fabric feels against your skin. Barely there.
Bradley quickly produces a mirror and a line. Your heart beats fast, more from thrill than anything. He supplies you with a rolled hundred and you bend over, inhale sharply, and then it hits. A spark behind your eyes, the shiver that runs down your spine, the room growing sharper. You lean back against the counter, letting the heat run through you and for a few seconds you feel absolutely in control.
“Fuck, you look good, Y/N,” he murmurs, voice low.
You smirk, brushing your damp hair away from your forehead. “That’s the whole point.”
He laughs, leaning in close. You catch the faintest whiff of his cologne and you bite your lip, pretending you don't feel the tension between the two of you tightening.
“Don’t get too crazy,” he teases. “Get back out there, or you’ll ruin all the fun.”
“Mmm,” you reply, running your hands under the unbuttoned collar of his shirt. “Isn’t that sometimes the point?”
He laughs, his hands resting on your hips. “God, you really think you’re irresistible, don’t you?”
You lean in close, letting your black painted nails gently rake along his exposed chest. “No baby, I know I am.”
You laugh a little too loud and back away from him with a wink, smoothing your dress back into place. You grab your coat, placing it low on your arms. You pull your lipstick from your purse again and check your nose in the mirror, making sure the evidence is long gone. The rush from the bump mixes with the alcohol and suddenly you feel infinite. As if the penthouse, the city, even the night itself exists just for your enjoyment.
“You’re impossible, Y/N,” Bradley sighs, adjusting himself in his pants.
“You worry too much B,” you say, sliding past him toward the door. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”
The hallway swallows you again. You pull your fur back over your shoulders, letting it sway with each step. You step back onto the penthouse floor, your heels clicking against the marble floors. Faces turn and whispers ripple through the crowd, soft at first but growing louder. There she is, look at her. God she's always like this. How sad. You smile and let them talk. These people have watched your entire life play out in magazines, on TMZ, and in the murmurings of every bored rich housewife who thinks they matter in this city.
A waiter approaches with another tray of champagne flutes. You take one, swirling the bubbles and letting them spill over the rim of the glass.
“Careful princess…”
The remark comes from Georgia Bingham Kerry, a fellow heiress, finding her fortune in the Heinz company. You laugh softly, definitely loud enough for her to hear as you twirl your glass more.
“Careful? Doesn’t sound like me,” you quip.
She scoffs, “Maybe if you tried–”
“Maybe if I tried what?” you cut her off with a tilt of your head. “Being like you? Sad? Miserable? Boring?”
You flick your wrist and champagne flies through the air, landing perfectly on her last season Dior pumps. Gasps fill the room and Bradley steps back, wide-eyed.
“Y/N! What the fuck? Calm down!” he shouts in panic.
“Calm down?” you repeat, your voice rising.
Your adrenaline is pumping, the bump from earlier still tingling along your spine. You move toward the balcony, brushing past a waiter who raises a hand in protest. “Maybe–”
“Maybe not!” you snap, spinning on your heel, silk and fur flying.
And then, someone, a dumb, drunk older man, dares to whisper loud enough for you to hear. She’s ruining the night again. What a surprise.
Red flares in your chest. You lunge, shoving at him lightly at first, just enough to make your anger palpable. He stumbles back, startled, and the world shifts. Your elbow catches the edge of a nearby pedestal holding a piece of art. A sculpture you recognize as worth more than most of the partygoers’ yearly salaries. It teeters, then crashes to the floor in a shower of glass and twisted metal.
Gasps ripple across the room. Security freezes, shocked. Someone yells. Champagne flutes topple as the crowd parts, staring. You laugh. A high, jagged laugh, and look down at the ruin beneath your feet. It should sting. It should scare you. But the rush of it all, the bump still humming through your veins, the chaos…it makes your heart beat faster, makes you feel alive.
You push past a waiter who steps in to block you leaving, your fur coat slipping from your shoulders. The music feels distant now, replaced by whispers, sharp words slicing through the gilded air.
And then the sound you knew was coming. A door banging open, sirens slicing through the low hum of the party. Red and blue lights wash over marble, over broken glass, over the silk clinging to your skin.
Suddenly cold metal bites down on your wrists. You laugh, breathless, somewhere between too aware and not aware enough. Handcuffs.
“Oh this is rich,” you bite. “Really, this is rich.”
“Ma’am, if you just cooperate, this will be a lot easier on us all,” the officer bites nonchalantly after reciting your rights.
“I am cooperating,” you slur, your hair falling over your face. You’re nearly bent over the hood of the police car before you realize the crowd gathering around you. You take the opportunity, putting on a photo-worthy face before turning back toward the officer. “Actually could you maybe tighten them? Would make it a little more fun for me…”
The officer scoffs and pulls you by your arms to stand again.
Paparazzi outside on the sidewalk fire relentlessly, capturing you in your barely there dress, everything nearly exposed forever in permanent pixels. The back of a police car swallows you whole. Darkness presses in, and the city that was so alive just for you merely moments ago, disappears completely.
Happy fucking New Year.
—
It’s not the sweet smell of coffee brewing or the hand of last night’s hookup gently caressing you awake, but instead, it’s the shrill beeping of your Blackberry relentlessly buzzing on your nightstand. Your eyes open, one then the other, still thick and crusted with last night’s eyeliner and glitter mascara. You pull up on your elbows, glancing at the digital clock on the table. “Only fucking noon…” you mutter, rolling over to your back to punch a fist to your phone to shut it up.
You lie on your back in the pool of bright white down comforters and feather pillows, wishing like hell that you could just stay here all day. But you’ve never been one to be stationary, and your tired muscles are already begging you to get up.
Sunlight slices through the floor-to-ceiling windows of your Manhattan apartment, sharp and cold against your skin, catching in the crystal of your chandelier before scattering across the marble floors. Your head pounds in rhythm with some distant echo of bass from last night, every heartbeat a reminder of the alcohol swirling in your veins that’s sure to bring a day-long migraine. Your dress is still clinging to you, the fabric twisted tightly around your body. The fur coat you abandoned last night is somewhere in a corner, limp and lifeless.
Your wrists ache, tender and raw. You lift your hands to them, squinting at the faint impressions of the metal that haven't quite faded yet. Flashes of the night crawl in snippets through your mind. The drugs, the alcohol, the sculpture, the flash of cameras and the cops cuffing you. You swallow, throat dry, and groan, dragging yourself off the bed to wobble out of bed.
Your phone continues to buzz, friends sending text after text alerting you of the occurrences of last night. Pixelated photos of tabloids fly in, one after the other.
‘Heiress Arrested Before Clock Could Strike 12’
‘New Year, New Her? Not This Time’
‘Drunk & Disorderly - Hello 2004’
“Boo-fucking-hoo, the melodrama,” you groan in disappointment, but it doesn’t linger long. This is the life you have chosen, and you’re not going to change. You toss your phone into your purse that thankfully made it home with you before meandering, slowly, out into your living room.
Your apartment is nearly a study in luxury. Marble everywhere, the floor, counters, even the window sills. The faint aroma of your Christian Dior perfume lingers in the air, mixed with the bitter tang of spilled alcohol and wasted cigarettes, as the city streets below crawl with taxis. The windows stretch across the living room, revealing Manhattan in all of its frozen glory. Plush rugs and velvet chairs are scattered around and somewhere, a crystal vase leans just slightly against a wall, evidence of a rowdy evening.
Then, the quiet is broken. Your father is there, sitting on the couch with the same cold precision he's always had. He’s impeccably dressed, of course, and his eyes are calculating and sharp, burning with what you know is anger. You freeze.
“Morning, Daddy,” you mumble, your voice rough as you head for the coffee pot.
He doesn't smile. “Morning?” His tone is pure venom. “Do you have any idea the chaos you caused last night?”
“Oh my god, don’t overreact,” you snap, “It was a party Dad. People spill things, yell, and get drunk. That’s just…life.”
“No, this is not life. This is reckless, dangerous, and humiliating. I am done cleaning up your messes.” His eyes bore into yours. “Do you know you destroyed a $3 million piece of art last night?”
You shrug. “They shouldn’t have had something so expensive just out there in the open.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I spent last night bailing you out of jail instead of ringing in the New Year. And I’ve spent the entire morning paying off reporters, and buying images to protect this family. I have had enough. You are twenty-three years old, Y/N. I am going to give you one last chance. One last chance to straighten up, or–” he pauses, “You are out. No more apartment, no more money, no more connections. You make one more headline, cause one more…disaster, and you’re on your own. No questions asked.”
Your stomach drops. “You’re bluffing.”
“I am not,” he says coldly, “You’re an adult now. I have been lenient long enough. Either you start behaving or you deal with the consequences yourself. This stops now. And I mean right now, young lady.”
“Stops?” you huff, throwing your arms out.”I’m an heiress, Daddy, you can’t just take my entire life away–”
“I can. And I will, if you don’t clean up this act. No more discussion. It stops.”
You huff, crossing your arms as you pout. “And how exactly do you plan to stop me?”
He shakes his head and lifts his cellphone to his ear. “Send him in.”
The click of your apartment door unlocks a new tension in your chest, then a man enters. Calm, deliberate, and impossibly composed. His navy blue suit perfectly tailored, his long brown hair pulled tightly back into a slick bun, his eyes sharp as he scans the room, before locking on you.
“Who the fuck are you?” you demand, tilting your head to the side.
“This is Jacob,” your father says. “Your bodyguard. Effective immediately.”
“Excuse me?!” you shout, your voice echoing off the marble flooring.
“Since you insist upon acting like a child, he will treat you like one. Every move you make will now be monitored. Nothing happens without him, and nothing goes unreported,” he continues.
“Oh my god, just what I always wanted, my own hall monitor,” you scoff.
Jacob steps forward slightly, and for the first time you get a real look at him. His eyes are unreadable, dark, steady and detached. He doesn't flinch at your tone, he doesn't even bother to glance at your bare legs or the way the strap of your dress is slipping from your shoulder.
“I will report directly to your father, Miss Y/N,” he says, the tone of his voice unreadable. But you have to admit, the way he says your name makes your stomach cave for a split second.
Your eyes narrow, ignoring the feeling. “Is that so?”
He nods once, “I take my job very seriously.”
Your pulse spikes, “You think you get to just walk into my apartment and start bossing me around?”
“I don’t think.” He takes a deliberate step closer, close enough for you to catch the faint trace of his cologne. “I know.”
You roll your eyes, attempting nonchalance, though something in your chest tightens. “You’re what– just going to follow me around everywhere? Stand outside bathroom doors? Guard my champagne glass? Daddy, this is so ridiculous!”
“If that's what it takes to keep you from doing something reckless,” the man says evenly, “Then yes.”
Your father’s phone buzzes with a call. He glances at the screen and sighs, already halfway out the door. “Jacob, I’ll leave her to you. Make sure she sobers up. We will discuss the rest later today. No drugs.”
“Dad–” you start, but he's already gone. The click of the door feels…final.
The silence that follows stretches heavy, nearly suffocating you. Jacob doesn't move from where he’s standing. His hands are tied neatly behind his back, and his gaze is unflinching. He is still, just watching you.
You exhale a shaky laugh, “So now what, babysitter?”
“You can start,” he says, voice firm, “by sitting down.”
You lift a brow, “Excuse me?”
“Sit. Down.”
Something about the way he says it makes you obey before you realize it. You perch on the edge of your leather couch, seething as you cross your legs and arms.
He studies you for a moment, then pulls out his phone and types something. Probably reporting back already.
You lean forward, your voice like honey. “You know,” you say, tugging your dress up just a little more, exposing more of your bare thigh, “most men would kill to be in your position.”
He finally looks up from his blackberry, eyes flicking briefly over you, not lingering, just assessing, and somehow that almost feels worse.
“I’m not most men.”
“Clearly,” you mutter, “You hate fun.”
He gives a faint, humourless smile, “I’m not here to have fun. I’m here to make sure you don't ruin your life or your father’s, before lunch.”
Your throat goes dry, “You don’t know anything about me.”
“Not yet,” he slides his phone back into his pocket. “But I will.”
There’s authority in the way he says it, so certain, that it leaves you almost speechless.
You finally find your voice, almost yelling now, “You can’t just– watch me… Follow me around and control me.”
His eyes meet yours cold, and sharp as a blade. “I can. And I will. That's what you’ve been reduced to, princess. Observation.”
The words hit like a slap. You stand quickly, jaw tight, desperate to reclaim some power in this situation. “You’re insane. You and my father. You’re like a fucking robot or something.”
He doesn't blink, “And you’re a liability.”
For a moment you just stare at each other, your pulse racing. For the first time in your life, someone doesn't flinch when you raise your voice. Doesn't shrink under your anger. Doesn't care who you are or what you have.
And that alone is enough to terrify you.
Jake steps closer, his eyes narrowing as he watches you scowl at him. “Your purse,” he says, voice low and steady. “Bring it here.”
You stare at him like he's lost his mind. “What?”
He holds his hand out, wiggling his middle two fingers. “Your purse. Now.”
You raise a brow, tilting your head, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “And what? You going to check it for contraband?”
He doesn't flinch, “Exactly that,” he says calmly. “Give it to me.”
You scoff, fumbling slightly with your hands and you go and grab it from the chair it ended up on last night. “This is out of control.”
He takes it from you in one smooth motion, flipping it open as if he is inspecting evidence. His eyes sweep over the contents as he dumps it out onto the marble countertop. A small bag of powder, a pack of cigarettes, two tubes of lipstick, a lip gloss, a pack of Orbit gum, your phone, and a bottle of Xanax. His eyes lift to yours slowly.
“You do realize none of this is safe, right?” his tone is pointed.
“Uh– it’s prescribed,” you lie, trying to mask your panic. “My doctor–”
He cuts you off, voice calm but sharp as glass. “What doctor, exactly?”
You stammer, making up a name that even feels fake as you say it out loud. He arches one eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “You expect me to believe that?”
“I–uh–I mean, it’s–”
He shakes his head, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. “I don’t buy it. Say goodbye.”
Your stomach twists. “You can’t just– give that back!” you shout.
“I just did,” he says, “Consider it gone.”
Your hands fly towards him, “No! Give it–”
His hand closes around your wrist. Firm and unyielding. You should pull away, but the warmth of his skin sears into yours. Your breath catches for reasons you refuse to name.
“No,” he says, “You will not touch this again. Do you understand me?”
You yank at your wrist, frustrated. “You’re insane! This is my life! You can’t just take–”
“I did,” he interrupts, “And you’re going to learn to deal with it. You need boundaries. It is clear to me that you have none.”
“Boundaries?!” you scoff.
He steps closer, and suddenly the small space between you feels electric. “Yes. Boundaries. Rules. Limits. Call them whatever you want, sweetheart. You don’t run your life anymore. I do.”
You flare your nostrils, trying to sound believable. “And if I refuse?”
“Do you want to find out?” he says softly, almost mocking. As if he is daring you to push him further.
Your eyes narrow as you press your lips together.
“I’m here to make sure you don’t humiliate yourself or your father, ever again.”
You snatch your Blackberry off the counter. “Fine, but I’m keeping this!”
He slides his hand around yours as you reach for it, smooth and fast, and lifts the phone. “Wait,” he says, dialing a number and letting the phone ring once before hanging up. His phone buzzes in his pocket and you realize he’s called himself. “I’ll keep your line active. For now. Don’t make me regret it.”
You yank the phone back, storming to your bedroom. “You can’t do this to me! I am a grown adult!”
“Watch me,” he says, simply, letting his words land like a punch.
You snarl, glaring at him as you realize that you’re losing grip on your own life.
“You’re angry,” he says, “Good. You should be. You need someone who won’t let you continue to make mistakes. I am that someone.”
You spin, storming down the hallway to your bedroom. “I’m going to shower, asshole! You gonna follow me in there too?”
His lips twitch, but he doesn't answer. You slam your bedroom door with a hard satisfying rattle, the sound echoing through the spacious apartment. And behind that door your chest heaves, your pulse racing. Your fingers tremble with a mix of fury, fear and something else that shakes you to your core.
Something you’ve never felt with anyone before now.
And the worst part is that it doesn’t feel wrong. It feels inevitable.
WARNINGS FOR THIS SERIES: 18+ MINORS DNI - Alcohol, Smoking, Marijuana, Cocaine, Cursing, Dramatic Themes. Smut Including: Kissing, Touching, Making Out, Light Degradation, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Biting, Fingering, Name Calling, Edging, Unprotected Sex, Digital Penetration, Pet Names, Spanking. Angst Including: Mentions of Drug Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Mentions of Violence, Manipulation, Jealousy, Mentions of Violence, Mentions of Weapons, Mentions of Death, Physical Fighting, Blood and more...
Another fantastic project written in collaboration with my bestie @gretavanmoon.
[NEW YORK CITY, NY] – Sources from Manhattan’s social and financial circles report that a prominent young socialite has once again become the center of attention following a string of late-night outings and activities that some observers describe as questionable at best and reckless at worst. Insiders say the socialite’s behavior in recent weeks appears increasingly impulsive, poorly judged, and far from the decorum traditionally expected of her family’s standing.
According to multiple eyewitnesses, recent appearances at exclusive private parties and high-profile venues have sparked a mixture of fascination and concern among her peers. “It’s the kind of conduct that makes people whisper,” said one anonymous source. “Her charm and connections are undeniable, but there’s no denying that her choices have left some wondering whether glamour alone can cover repeated lapses in judgment.”
While the socialite has not publicly addressed the mounting speculation, those close to the family reportedly worry about potential repercussions. Not only for her own reputation but for the carefully curated image of her household. Observers note that the combination of secrecy, indulgence, and apparent disregard for consequences has already generated considerable chatter within Manhattan’s elite social circles.
In a particularly dramatic incident, the socialite was reportedly seen leaving a penthouse in the Upper East Side late last night, just hours before a heated altercation at The Penrose Bar, according to sources. Though the details remain unconfirmed, the event has only added fuel to the speculation surrounding her recent behavior.
As the story continues to develop, social and business insiders alike are closely monitoring the situation. The public is left to question: How long can appearances mask behavior that insiders describe as reckless, indulgent, and potentially damaging? And what impact will these repeated controversies have on the socialite’s standing among New York’s elite?
[Photo Caption: “Y/N leaving an exclusive Upper East Side Penthouse last night — reportedly hours before an altercation at The Penrose Bar.”]
[Photo Credit: X19 Online]
A week at the lake was supposed to heal old wounds, but it only ripped them deeper. Y/N thought she’d left her feelings for Sam buried long ago, but jealousy, fear, and one impulsive confession threaten to unravel everything she’s tried to protect. As tensions rise beneath the summer sun, every truth they’ve avoided comes crashing to the surface… and someone’s heart won’t make it out unbroken.
Pairing: Sam Kiszka x Female Reader
Word Count: 15.7k
Warnings: Angst: Cursing, Smoking, Drinking, Dramatic Themes, Arguing, Lying, Blood, Mention of Cheating, Mention of Manipulation and Mental Anguish, Crying. Smut: Kissing, Touching, Yearning, Oral Sex, Digital Penetration, Dirty Talk.
A/N: Hello lovelies! Welcome back for part 2 of this mini series! I know it’s been a while since we’ve posted, and we are so sorry for disappearing like that. Again. Life got a little hectic for us both, but the good news is we’re back and completely reinvigorated after seeing Mirador in Nashville. Honestly, that trip sparked so much inspiration, and we can’t wait to finally share some of it with you. Thanks so much for your patience and support — it means the world to us! - N + J
Girlfriend.
The words hit like a punch beneath the ribs.
Your breath snags. Your fingers curl in your sleeves. You feel the floor tilt, the air thinning to almost nothing.
Instinct tells you to look at Sam. To search his face for denial, for an apology, for anything that doesn’t confirm this is real. But you won’t give him that. Not now.
You keep your gaze locked on her instead, rigid and unblinking, like if you don’t acknowledge him, none of this can touch you.
Her hand remains extended between you, waiting.
Your lungs burn. Your knees wobble. You are one second, one blink, from breaking.
And for a terrifying, airless moment, you think you might shatter right there.
But you don't.
“Hi, I’m– Y/N, obviously,” you smile, completely struck and blindsided by what you’ve just walked in on. “Nice to meet you…” Your voice isn’t your own, and you know that everyone knows that.
Suddenly, a full mug with a dash of creamer is placed in front of you, ripping your eyes away from this drop dead gorgeous woman introducing herself to you and back to Quinn, sporting a strong ‘I know ha ha ha’ look that you will be revisiting with her later.
You haven’t dared look Sam’s way, yet. No way.
“So anyway,” Natalia rejoins the group conversation. “I was thinking kayaks today? Over to the island? Sammybaby had me stop to get stuff for sandwiches so… maybe lunch there, too?”
If it weren’t for the pure blissful taste of coffee hitting your tongue, you may have laughed out loud.
Sammybaby?
For the love of god…
The table was silent for a few beats until you hear the sound of Skyler and Jake waltzing into the room from upstairs.
“Did someone say kayaks?” Jake says as they join you. “Sounds like a plan to me… Hey Natalia.”
“Morning, Jake. Good to see you again!” Natalia responds, almost too cheerfully.
Jake introduces her to Skyler and you sit awkwardly, a few small conversations popping up around you as everyone talks about the day ahead. The room feels like it's closing in, the conversations blurring together as you think about looking at Sam… giving yourself permission for a split second to read his face.
So you do. And what you find isn’t at all what you’d think a man whose apparent girlfriend has just joined him on vacation.
His eyes are downshot, his face withdrawn and his arms crossed. His cheeks are pink with hangover, and his mug is balanced lightly on his chin as his fingers mindlessly tap on the handle of it. For a second you feel bad for him. For a second you’re confused.
Is that what he was trying to tell you last night when he brought up her name on his phone? Is that what he was trying to explain when you shut him down?
Too late now.
“So, you two didn’t keep us up all night, thanks for that,” Josh says loudly as he angles his mug toward Jake and Skyler. “Figured I’d have to break out my ear plugs.”
“Ahh, well, that’s surprising,” Jake says, his morning voice still very hollow. “Neither of us slept a wink.”
Josh laughs and claps one time as he readjusts in his chair. “These beds are incredibly squeaky, three cheers for you two on figuring out how to make accomplishments quietly.”
Skyler pulls her robe tightly across her chest, grinning into her mug. “It’s called a private bathroom, Joshua. Thank you very much.”
“Oh, well, in that case!” Josh goes on, his eyebrows bouncing. “Quinn, my darling, we have a new game plan for tonight.”
“Can you two shut the hell up?” Quinn giggles, lightly hitting Josh across the shoulder. “I heard we’re heading out to the island today?”
“Yes! That’s the thought! If everyone is cool with it?” Natalia goes on, already clad in her very skimpy bikini and cover-up. “I don’t want to impede on your plans, if you already had them though!”
“No no, we’re good,” Josh says, standing to take his mug to the sink. “Sounds great to us, yeah guys?”
He earns a collective agreement from everyone around the table, and so it seems the plan is made. Much to your disappointment, though… you haven’t even had two seconds to debrief on anything with Quinn and Skyler, and haven’t had one second to ask who in the fuck was going to tell you Sam’s girlfriend was coming.
Or did they even know?
—
“She’s hot. She’s hot, isn’t she?” Quinn whispers as the three of you gather in Quinn’s bathroom, quick-shaving and changing into your swimsuits.
“Yeah, she’s hot. I was like, ‘Dang, okay, Sam’!” Skyler agrees, turning her back to you as she hands you her straps to tie behind her.
“I wish we would have known she was coming, though… I’m sorry, Y/N,” Quinn adds.
“So you didn’t know?” you bark, maybe a little too harshly.
“No, we had no clue. She just pulled up outside this morning, Sam rushed out there to meet her. Kinda strange, but ok. She seems really sweet, though…”
Your stomach churns with a horrible bout of feelings… ones that feel like the dread of a hundred final exams, a thousand OBGYN appointments… and a million blind dates. Ugh.
“What’s the matter, Y/N? You’re being so quiet, and you didn’t eat the bagel I made you this morning,” Skyler pouts. “You okay?”
“Yeah yeah, m’fine,” you lie, “just trying to figure out where the hell I’m going to sleep, tonight.”
“Fuck,” skyler whispers. “I didn’t think of that.”
Quinn sighs. “I’m sure they can just like… share his twin bed.”
Your eyes cut to her with the rage of a million scorned. “Are you fucking serious?”
“I–I don’t know, shit!” her hands flail. “But I do know that Sam won’t put you out of a bed you’ve already slept in…”
“Oh, you’d be fucking surprised,” you blurt coldly, on accident, really.
“What? Why?” Skyler adds, still whispering. “Actually, speaking of, what the fuck was that in the hot tub last night? I mean I was pretty drunk, but the vibes were weird. Especially when Sam reacted so strangely to my never-have-I-ever then peaced out for the night.”
You take a quick gasp of air, half-tempted to let literally everything out, right then and there. Your body and mind are physically exhausted from keeping these secrets in, and after last night, you feel even more tired.
“Where did you get that question from, anyway?” you press instead.
“Nowhere, just came to me. And Sam looked playfully vulnerable so I directed it to him to get on his nerves. I guess it worked, even though I think he’s pissed at me now,” Skyler explains.
You knew it was just a coincidence. A coincidence that unfortunately opened a whole can of worms.
“Hm,” you answer, finishing up Skyler’s tie on her bathing suit. “I think Sam is pissed at everyone, if I’m being honest.”
“Maybe so,” Quinn says. “But you still haven’t told us what’s wrong.”
They both stand in front of you now as you stay seated on the closed toilet seat, their arms crossed as they both deny letting you up until you talk.
“...And you still haven’t helped me figure out where I’m going to sleep tonight,” you reply.
“Oh my god, Y/N,” Skyler shakes her head.
“If you think I’m going to sleep next to Sammybaby and his literal 11/10 while they cuddle and snuggle and spoon and probably fuck in the bed next to me, you’re on drugs,” you bite, challenging them both.
“Ugh,” Quinn moans, rolling her eyes at you. “Do you truly think Sam would do that to you? Come on…”
“To spite me? Yes. Yes I truly think he would,” you declare.
Skyler cocks her head. “Spite you? Why would he need to spite you?”
Fuck. Too much. Reel it in.
“Nothing, no reason. It’s a long story.”
“A long story that we have plenty of time to discuss while the guys pack the coolers… spill, what the fuck is going on, Y/N?” Quinn presses.
You stand, forcing them to back away. “I told you, it’s nothing! I told you that back in the day before you two were even around, things could get really heated between him and I. We just… we’d fight. A lot. Even though we love each other…”
Goddamnit, Y/N. Not that word.
“Were the fights that bad? That you both have this same volatile relationship still yet?”
You close your eyes, trying to calm your already racing heartbeat, full of adrenaline, full of still-lingering anger. “Yeah, yeah. They were pretty bad, uh. Heartbreaking, actually. Listen, I don’t want you to worry, okay? We’re good, I’m good. It was… a long time ago. And we’re on vacation, and we’re here to have fun, yeah?”
Your two best friends in the entire universe stand before you, reading your every move on their own, watching your body language and slowly, slowly, figuring out that there is something that you’re holding back. You know they’re suspicious, they know you too well to think otherwise.
“Y/N, did you guys…”
Skyler’s voice is almost a whisper as she squints her eyes at you, then to Quinn, then slowly back to you.
You swallow hard. “Did we what?”
Here you are, fully prepared to lie to your best friends. Again. Because that’s apparently all you fucking know how to do, when it comes to Sam.
But they both stay silent, both of their eyes slits and their bodies stiff with suspicion. You can tell their wheels are turning.
“No. No, there’s no way…” Skyler finally raises her hands. “You’d never go for someone like him. No way in hell, hahaha!”
“Right,” you nod, feeling the weight literally lift from your shoulders.
“He’s the complete opposite of you, and everything that you’re not attracted to…” she adds.
“Yeah, no…” Quinn agrees as the three of you finally go to make your way out of the bathroom. “No way on earth. Sam’s too closed off, too cheeky in a bad way. Love him to death, but you tend to go for guys who are a little bit more mysterious, a little bit more gentlemanly. Knight in shining armor type with a smidge of goofball and supernerd.”
“God, Quinn, you just described Jake…” Skyler laughs as you grab your bag from her bed, even more unwilling to open up that can of worms.
—
The morning air has the sleepy stillness that lingers right before the sun burns through the mist. The water is glass flat, a sheet of blue light, and somewhere behind you the twins are arguing about kayaks while Skyler and Quinn sort out a cooler full of beers and snacks.
“Alright,” Jake calls, holding up a paddle. “Josh, you and Quinn are in the red kayak, Skyler and I will take the smaller two-man, and Sam, Natalia and Y/N, you’re in the three man kayak.”
Perfect.
Your stomach drops. Out of all the possible combinations, it had to be this one.
“Three-man kayak, my favorite,” you groan, forcing a smile when Natalia beams at you, adjusting her sunglasses.
Sam gives a half shrug like he didn't plan it, though you catch the tiniest twitch at the corner of his lips as he pushes the kayak toward the shallow water. You climb in first, taking the front seat. If you’re gonna be trapped with them, you'd at least rather not have to watch it.
Behind you, the kayak rocks as Sam settles into the back seat, his long legs bracketing either side of the two of you. Natalia plops into the middle, full of perfume and mindless chatter.
“Oh my god, this sun is perfect,” she gushes. “You think I’ll tan or just burn? I swear if one mosquito even looks at me–”
You dig your paddle into the water, hard. Anything to move forward. Anything to drown out the sound of her voice.
For a while, it’s almost peaceful, until the giggling starts. Wet kisses. The soft slap of hands on skin. Natalia's breathy little noises right behind your shoulder.
You grit your teeth. Keep paddling. Pretend you don't hear it.
“Hey girlie,” Natalia sings, reaching over your shoulder with her phone. “Would you mind taking a photo of us?”
You glance back, nearly clipping your paddle on the side of the kayak. “Sure,” you say, flatly. “Smile.”
Natalia presses herself against him, kissing his cheek, his jaw, his neck. Sam’s hands stay firmly on his paddle. His expression doesn't change, a look of boredom, half embarrassment, and nerves.
“Cute,” she chirps, “Can you check them? Make sure I look good?”
You scroll through them quickly. She looks flawless, of course. He looks miserable. Something in your chest twists before you shove it down. None of your business.
From across the water, Jake’s voice carries. “We’re almost there. It’s that one right there!” he says, pointing out the small shady island of trees.
Sam exhales hard through his nose, the sound sharp over the water. You match the rhythm he is setting with his paddle, automatically. Natalia, predictably, doesn't paddle at all. She's too busy uploading her photos and trying to get cell signal.
By the time the kayak grinds against sand, your arms ache. Sam is the first one out, dragging the kayak halfway onto shore before offering his hand to Natalia. She giggles and takes it, nearly stumbling into him. He steadies her automatically, then looks past her, straight at you. His mouth opens like he might say something, but he doesn’t. He just turns away.
The absence of that simple gesture, helping you out, lands heavier than you expect. And Josh notices.
“Brother,” he laughs, wading over to offer you his hand instead. “You gonna leave her stranded?”
Sam’s shoulders tighten. He doesn’t turn around.
You plaster on a smile, taking Josh’s hand as you climb out. “Thanks. Guess I’m invisible today.”
“His loss,” Josh says easily, dragging the kayak further up the beach.
You glance back once. Sam’s already at the tree line, cracking open a beer, gaze fixed somewhere you’re not.
“God,” you mutter. “I need a drink.”
Skyler waves you over to the blanket where the girls are unloading food. You collapse beside them, stealing a can of beer from the cooler.
“How was that?” Quinn asks, smirking. “You looked like you were paddling for your life out there.”
“Awkward,” you admit, popping the tab. “Like… secondhand embarrassment awkward. I thought about just rolling off the side halfway through.”
Natalia laughs from a few feet away, showing Jake her phone. You take a long sip of beer to avoid rolling your eyes again.
Skyler tilts her head, eyes narrowing. “Why do you care so much?”
You shrug, forcing nonchalance. “Because I was the only damn one paddling. They were too busy taking selfies.”
But even as they laugh it off, your gaze drifts back toward the edge of the trees. Sam’s still there, smoke curling from the joint between his fingers. The same look on his face as before. Somewhere between anger and longing and something that looks an awful lot like regret.
You look away first. You always do.
—
The sunlight has shifted, bright and direct now, bouncing off the water so hard it almost hurts to look at. Everyone’s half drunk and half sunk into the lull of the afternoon. Jake and Skyler are sprawled in the sand arguing about music. Natalia’s wrapped around Sam like a vine, her fingers idly tracing circles on his arm.
You pick at the corner of your sandwich, your appetite gone.
Josh finally collapses onto the blanket beside you with a groan. “I swear, she’s gonna give herself heatstroke if she doesn’t let him breathe.”
“Mm,” you hum, not looking up.
He grins, handing you another beer. “Here. Doctor’s orders.”
You take it, pop the tab, and take a long drink before asking, as casually as you can manage, “How’d they even meet?”
Josh looks at you, half surprised by the question. “Sam and Natalia?”
“Yeah,” you say, keeping your tone light. “Just wondering.”
He leans back on his elbows. “I think it was last winter, right after tour. He’d gone home for a bit, kinda keeping to himself, and then one night he showed up at this charity show she was playing at. Local thing. Acoustic set. Said she sounded like a summer breeze.”
You laugh, but it comes out brittle. “That sounds like something he’d say.”
Josh nods. “He tracked her down after the show. Found her at some café the next morning, brought her flowers. Which, if you know Sam, was, like, wildly out of character. The rest is history, I guess.”
“Flowers,” you repeat softly, eyes fixed on the sand.
Josh chuckles. “Yeah. Big, obnoxious ones too. Pink peonies or something. He called me after, all proud of himself, like…like he’d just invented romance.”
You smile like it’s funny. You even manage to laugh, a small polite sound that makes Josh relax again. But inside, something splits.
Flowers.He bought her flowers.
You think back, of all the times he came to you empty handed, smelling like whiskey and sweat, words dripping out like apologies he never finished. No gestures. No grand moments. Just stolen ones.
And now, he’s out here doing the things he said he didn’t believe in.
Josh must see something in your face, because his tone softens. “Hey. You okay?”
You blink, force the smile back. “Yeah. Just a lot of sun.”
He doesn’t push, but his eyes linger on you a second longer than they should. You stand, brushing sand from your bikini bottoms “Gonna take a walk. Cool off.”
Josh nods slowly. “Don’t get lost.”
“I won’t.”
You grab your half empty beer and head toward the trees, the sound of their laughter fading behind you.
—
The trail is narrow and mostly shaded, pine needles soft underfoot. The air smells sharp, like sap and lake water and leaves. Every few steps you can still hear them faintly through the trees, the tinny sound of music, Natalia’s laugh cutting through like something metallic.
You sip from the can and let your thoughts go where they want.
Flowers. A summer breeze.
He’d never said anything like that to you. He’d said other things…filthy, beautiful, terrible things, but not that.
You’d been the secret, the chaos, the thing he couldn’t name out loud. And she… isn’t.
You kick at a rock, watch it tumble down toward the waterline. “Pathetic,” you mutter to yourself.
But it still stings. The idea that he could just slot someone else into the place you once held…that he could rewrite himself into the man you’d wanted him to be, only for someone else.
The trail opens out into a little clearing at the edge of the lake. You stop there, watching sunlight glitter across the surface.
You crouch, dipping your fingers in the water. It’s cold, shockingly so, and for a second you consider diving in. Just disappearing under until the noise in your head goes quiet.
He bought her flowers.
You breathe in deep, fighting the ache rising behind your ribs. You hate that it hurts this much, hate that it still matters. He’s allowed to move on. You’re supposed to have moved on too. But logic doesn’t touch what’s sitting in your chest.
You sit there for a while, just listening to the water, to the breeze, to your own heartbeat refusing to slow down. And eventually, you hear footsteps crunching through the brush behind you.
You don’t turn. You don't have to. You already know who it is. He’s always walked like that.
“Didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” Sam says after a beat. His voice is rough from the sun, or maybe from silence.
You swirl your fingers in the lake water. “You didn’t. Just… thinking. Needed to cool off.”
He moves closer until his shadow falls beside yours. “You got quiet back there.”
You shrug. “It’s hot. Everyone’s loud. I needed air.”
Sam hums, not buying it. “You always say that when you’re about to cry.”
That makes you turn. “I’m not crying.”
He studies your face, eyes narrowed against the sun. “No. But you want to.”
You laugh under your breath, almost a scoff. “Wow. Thanks, therapist Sam.”
He doesn’t smile. “I know you asked Josh about me and Natalia.”
“So?” you deflect, looking back at the water. “I was just making small talk.”
He snorts. “You don’t do small talk. Never have.”
You keep your eyes on the lake, the reflection of light breaking against ripples. “Guess people change, Sam.”
“Maybe,” he says. “But you still chew the inside of your cheek when you’re lying.”
The words hang there, soft but cutting. You taste blood and stop. “You noticed that?”
“Always did.” He drops down to sit beside you, elbows on his knees. “You think I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours? Because I do.”
You stay silent, the ache pressing behind your ribs. “You look happy,” you finally say. “That’s all.”
He glances sideways at you. “I look trapped.”
“Same difference.”
He exhales through his nose, shakes his head. “You think I did all of that for her because I wanted to? I–I was trying to prove I could be better than what I was with you.”
That knocks the breath out of you more than you’d like. You don’t answer, instead just twisting the beer can between your fingers.
“I told myself that if I did the normal things– dinners, concerts, flowers, it would stick. That maybe if I did everything I didn’t do with you, I could forget you. That I could move on.”
You swallow hard, eyes stinging with tears. “Did it work?”
He laughs once, quiet and empty. “Take a wild guess.”
You want to stay angry, but something about the way he says it softens you. He looks exhausted, sunburnt, and a little lost. His eyes flick down to your hands, still shaking slightly. “You’re mad.”
“Of course I’m mad,” you whisper. “You made me think I imagined everything between us. And then I watched you turn around and become the man I wanted you to be…for her.”
He moves closer until the space between you is charged, almost humming. “That’s not what happened.”
“Then what did?” you ask, voice breaking. “Because it sure feels like it.”
He hesitates, jaw tight, “I thought if I could rewrite it, I could forget you. But it doesn’t work like that.”
The silence after that stretches tight as a wire. You can smell the salt of his skin, the cedar of his shirt. The world seems to narrow until it’s only the space between you and the sound of the water lapping the shore.
He reaches up, stops just short of touching your face. “You should go back,” he says, but his voice is wrecked.
You tilt your head, meet his eyes. “You don’t mean that.”
He lets out a rough breath. “No. I don’t.”
Your pulse stutters. For a second neither of you moves. Then his fingers brush a stray hair from your cheek, the touch light, reverent and dangerous. Your breath catches. You can feel every heartbeat between you, all the things you could say, all the things you shouldn’t.
He leans in, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath, but he stops there, tension trembling in the space he leaves.
You whisper, “This is a bad idea.”
He smiles, small and sad. “Every good thing between us was.”
For a moment it feels like gravity will win, like you’ll close the distance just to stop the ache in your chest, but you pull back first, breaking the spell. The air rushes in between you again, cool and sharp.
You murmur, “We should go,” and this time he nods.
The silence that follows isn’t comfortable, but it’s honest. Wind stirs through the pines, the water bumps softly against the shore. You can feel him looking at you again, but this time he doesn’t reach for you. He just lets the air sit between you, heavy with everything that can’t be said.
Finally, you stand, brushing sand from your hands. He nods slowly, stands too.
You start walking toward the trees. After a few steps, you hear him behind you. “Y/N—”
You stop but don’t turn.
He hesitates, then says, “For what it’s worth… I’m not okay either.”
You nod once, still facing the trees. “I know.”
—
Jake’s eyes are the first to meet yours as you walk back into the clearing, Sam’s heavy footsteps still twenty or so paces behind you. He lets them linger, and it sends a different kind of shockwave through you, one that’s tinged with a memory buried so deeply away that you aren’t sure if it is a memory, at all. It’s more a reminder, maybe, that even though time has passed, erasing the past is one thing that neither of you have the power to do.
It temporarily makes you forget everything that had just happened with Sam. The way you felt his breath on your lips. His fingertips on your face. The heat of his skin so close you almost lost all control.
But just temporarily.
Jake’s really good at being suspicious.
“Where did you sneak off to?” You hear Natalia’s voice rip through the otherwise serene sounds of the lake, bringing you back to some semblance of reality. The tears that were still sitting at the edges of your eyes quickly dry up.
Her hand is immediately balanced on the center of Sam’s chest, her half-drunken body leaning hard into him. You can hardly make out his response, low and muffled, but you do understand the words ‘she’ and ‘smoke’.
Right. Good lie.
Her high-pitched voice still echoes weirdly off the trees and rocks surrounding you, grating on your nerves.
He bought her flowers.
You roll your eyes as you turn to envelop yourself with whatever conversation Quinn and Skyler are going on about, desperate for any kind of distraction. Your chest is still tight with nerves, your stomach churning with remnant adrenaline.
“Catch a good high?” Quinn asks, popping a Dorito into her mouth as her eyebrows fly up.
“Yeah,” you clear your throat, “I did. Haven’t smoked in a while, actually. Kind of hitting me already.”
“Explains why your eyes are bloodshot and teary…” Skyler says sarcastically. “Definitely not any other reason, right?”
You bite your lips and fully meet her accusatory gaze. “No. No other reason, at all.”
She shrugs. “Whatever you say, babe.”
The three of you change the subject, thank god, and for a few minutes, you manage to let your mind drift back to a place of semi-peace, allowing yourself to push the emotions back down into a sealed box in your chest. Just like you always do. Just like you always have.
Habitual, practically.
You listen to Quinn talk about her new job offer, and how her mom is engaged for the fifth time in ten years. You laugh along as Skyler jokes about going fishing later, and how much she wishes she’d have brought a different pair of flip flops. Normal, basic, distracting.
Distracting, but not enough to make you forget that Sam, the only man you’ve ever really wanted in this world, just opened up to you more than he ever has. After all this time. On the beach of a lake, in the vicinity of his girlfriend.
“That’s not fucking cute, Sam!” Natalia’s voice suddenly screeches a little too loudly, making the whole group stop and turn toward them. “It’s actually kind of disrespectful, don’t you think?”
“Oh, shit,” Josh murmurs through a half-laugh from a few yards away.
Sam’s body language tells you everything you need to know. His shoulders stiff, his mouth a straight line. His eyes blank.
He looks down at Natalia with hardly an emotion on his face before his eyes roam to the rest of you, slightly apologetic as he opens his mouth to speak to her. He’s quiet, though. Patient and slow as he tries to diffuse whatever she just screamed about. You watch his mouth move, but you can’t hear him.
“I came all the way here, for this? For you to ignore me?” she screeches. And at this point, it’s almost as if she’s speaking this loudly to make a spectacle of herself on purpose. “No. That’s not sitting well with me, Sammy.”
“Yeugh,” Quinn makes a gagging noise a little too quickly. You bite back a laugh, positive that the rest of you are all having the same thought process right now.
Her voice is still loud, still shrieking at a level that is far too intense to not be on purpose. Her words jumble up, her hands fly around his face, her neck jerks with attitude. Sam’s posture folds, then stands tall again. His mouth moves, his words still privately silent. You have to look away.
Trapped, he is.
“I just don’t get why you thought you could just disappear without telling me.. We’re here together! Maybe I wanted to smoke, too!” she goes on, her voice whiny.
“God, who the fuck cares?” Skyler says under her breath, making you grunt through your nose.
“But instead you wanted to sneak off with her—“
Your heart sinks.
“Oh don’t even fucking start with that, Natalia!” Sam raises his voice just a little. “I took her a joint, what’s the big deal?!”
Lie.
As the uncomfortable, argumentative minutes tick, the rest of the group gathers a collective feeling of ‘ok, time to go,’ with quick glances and head nods to one another. None of you is willing to sit here and put up with the nonsense any longer.
You feel like you’re a speck of dust, wanting to crawl into a hole and bury yourself up and never return.
“Alright, alright… let’s head back! I need a shower and it’s going to start getting dark soon,” Skyler says loudly, interrupting the mayhem that poor Sam has found himself in. You really truly feel bad for him, in the moment.
Everyone stands and begins busying their hands with packing up, folding blankets and bagging up trash. Your eyes close for just a second as you gather yourself, unknowing yet how to handle the string of events that have decided to play out on this sweet little godforsaken island.
“God, I need to chug a beer after that show,” Jake says quietly as he reopens the closed cooler in your hands.
“No doubt,” you reply, slitting your eyes over to see Sam, still yet, helping Natalia back into the kayak. “Are they always like that?”
Jake tightens his neck muscles after sucking the foam off the top of his can. “I dunno. Only met her once or twice, but this is…this is something.”
“Something isn’t the word, man,” Josh adds, his eyes wide as he takes the cooler from your hands. “Sheesh.”
“And we have five more days of it!” Quinn whispers loudly, trying to keep the conversation hush. “So exciting!”
You can’t even find the words. The secondhand embarrassment you’d felt in the kayak on the ride over doesn’t even compare to what the rest of you just endured, and how Natalia is most definitely picking up on things.
Poor, poor Sam. He’s really managed to get himself into a mess.
“D’you want me to ride back with them? I don’t mind, I know that shit’s gonna be super awkward for you,” Josh offers.
“No, no, that’s okay… I know Quinn will want you to ride back with her,” you reply. “I’ll be alright, really.”
Josh offers you a quizzical look before an insistent one, nodding as if to say ‘suit yourself’.
Honestly, you really need to show them that you don’t care. You really don’t…
Confidently, you pace over to the kayak, realizing that Sam and Natalia have left the middle seat open for you. You pop open a warm white claw to keep between your legs for the ride home, deciding that you’re going to need it now more than ever.
“I’ll sit in the front again,” you say blankly, motioning with a paddle.
“No,” Sam cuts. “I told her she needed to sit up front if she isn’t going to help us paddle. Get us back faster.”
You hesitate, reading his sterned and emotionless face behind his dark sunglasses. Natalia is half oblivious, already back on her phone, anyway. You know she’s got to be seething.
“Fine,” you say, ignoring Sam’s helping hand to step into the kayak. You wouldn’t touch him even if you wanted to, right now.
“Jake, push us off?” Sam yells, his voice heavy with aggravation.
Jake makes his way to the nose, giving it a big push backwards into the water. “Have a great trip,” he smiles, and you know that it makes Sam’s blood boil.
After a few minutes of harsh paddling and quiet, you place the paddle over your crossed legs and chug the warm drink, letting the bubbles fizzle in your mouth as you endure the heat of not only the blazing sun, but also the tension sitting in front of and behind you. This is so fucking awkward. God, why didn’t you take up Josh’s offer?
“You okay up there?” Sam asks.
“Yes,” you and Natalia both answer in unison, making you roll your eyes. You quickly pull your sunglasses down over your eyes and pick up the paddle again, ready to get back to the house as soon as humanly possible.
“Ready, Sam?” you ask, tipping your paddle into the water.
“Guess I have to be,” he replies, letting a short breath fall from his lips.
It’s quiet for another few minutes as the island gets smaller and smaller behind you, Natalia still only half-assing her help with the paddling as she switches between holding it and her phone.
“Sammy, take a shower with me when we get back?” Natalia finally speaks up, surely surprising both you and Sam with her sudden change in tone.
“Uh, yeah… sure,” Sam replies flatly, with a little bit of question in his demeanor. “As long as it’s ice fucking cold…”
God damnit, Sam. Of course he’d say that.
Your mind quickly flashes back in time, to when you and Sam were in the absolute heat of your “relationship”. It was the heat of summer, around the same time as now. Sam had reserved a campsite on the river, far away from anyone and anything, the perfect place for the two of you to fuck until you couldn’t see straight, without the worry of being caught by anyone. Sickeningly hot sun, too much tequila, and the campground shower house had collectively given the perfect setup for one of the hottest nights of your entire life.
The whole day had been chock full of buildup– just the two of you, talking, flirting, barely-there touches that sent your skin screaming for more. Stolen kisses and talk so dirty you even surprised yourself. You’d both come there with nothing but a tent, a cooler, and one sleeping bag, fully intending to do what the two of you did best.
The night was a blur, and far after the sun had set, neither of you could take it anymore. “Let’s shower,” he’d suggested, fully aware of the river sand and sunscreen still stuck to your bodies. A rush of hands and feet rushing to the showerhouse in the pitch darkness… hand in hand, sneaky touches every second that he could.
It was only seconds before the both of you were stripped down to nothing, the blinking overhead lamp of the shower house providing only enough light to see dimness every few seconds. He flicked the shower on and pressed you up against the block wall, his hands immediately on your tits, your neck, your ass… exploring all the places he’d been dreaming about touching all day.
You remember his mouth on parts of you that he hadn’t explored yet, at the time, making your entire body shudder with a satisfaction that was brand new to both of you. That was the first time he’d made you cum with his mouth, the first time you’d fully let him in. “Turn around,” he’d ordered, using his forceful hands to flip your front around to press against the wall. The shower water was cold as it poured over the two of you, and even after five minutes or so, it showed no signs of warming up.
“Fuck!” you’d cried as he ran his fingers up through your folds, wasting no time in pressing you forward into the cold block wall, giving himself better access. You leaned forward and arched your back, hands gripped onto nothing as he entered you, the freezing cold stream of water only accentuating the body heat between you.
It was lewd, messy and loud. The slaps of your bodies together bounced and echoed off the walls and concrete floor… your guttural screams mixed in with his gritted groans probably loud enough for any passerby to hear. It’d only taken you seconds to orgasm a second time, even with the setting being less-than comfortable. That’s all it ever was with Sam, hot, wild, and unexpected. Fast and forceful in the best ways- the both of you only using the other to get exactly what you wanted.
Shivers coated you as you both finished, quickly rinsing off in the icy water and cleaning up as best you could. That night was spent together in that singular sleeping bag, but the shower wasn’t the only place he’d get you off, that night.
You know for a fact that Sam had mentioned a cold shower for a reason; his memory was just as nostalgic as yours. You know his mind is ticking, too, a replayed slideshow of all the dirty things the two of you used to do together.
The tension is so thick in this kayak that even a butcher’s knife couldn’t cut it, you’re positive of that. But it isn’t someone’s voice that breaks through it. No, instead, it’s the first few notes of a song playing quietly through the speaker of Sam’s phone.
The first few notes of a song that was not from his shuffle.
You’re positive your heart could explode into a thousand pieces had it not been housed by your ribcage, already beating a mile a minute as the song works its way through the air. I Miss You by Blink-182. He’s got to be kidding.
More flashbacks. Old car rides move through your mind…Sam’s busted car speakers blasting middle school top tens, his hair blowing all around when he refused to close the sunroof. Ice cold glass bottles of Coca Cola in the cup holders between you, a half-eaten bag of Peach-O’s in your lap. Sometimes it wasn’t all bad. Sometimes it wasn’t all screaming and arguments with him.
Natalia turns and scoffs at his music choice, giving him nothing but a scowl and a harsh flip of her hair over her shoulder. But you know why he did it. He picked it on purpose.
He misses you?
But, he bought her flowers.
You turn, slightly, and give Sam the tiniest smile. One that only lasts maybe a half-second, enough to acknowledge that he chose to play one of your favorite songs in the entire world. Enough to let him know you recognize it. Enough to let him know you miss him, too.
God, this is all so fucked.
The lyrics hit a little differently, now, as the situation has changed. The words are no longer a fond memory, but a message. At least, you’re letting yourself think it is.
The song closes out and you hear Sam take a long, cleansing breath, and you feel it land on the back of your neck. Like a soft breeze that holds a million memories, you feel his breath on your skin for the second time today… too close for comfort, yet so, so incredibly far away.
“I know why you wore that,” you suddenly feel him whisper in your ear.
“What?” you reply quietly, trying not to react to the feeling of his lips on your ear.
“That bathing suit, I remember it. You aren’t slick, Y/N,” he goes on, staying as quiet as possible as the next song takes up most of the sound.
You think back, trying to think of all the times you’ve worn this; you’ve had it for nearly a decade.
“It was the first time I ever saw you without…more clothes on. Showed up to Joel Jackson’s 21st birthday pool party in it… I was too young to tell you then, but fuck. You looked so damn good. The first time you really caught my eye, the visual of you singed into my brain for months. I was praying you’d ask me to be your partner playing chicken in the pool, but you didn’t.”
Your eyes flutter closed at the memory, and the way you hardly even remember him being at that party, at all. Still yet, though, his mouth stays close to your ear, his lips brushing into your hair as he lightly breathes you in. You feel his finger reach up under the bikini tie across your back, slowly snaking its way all the way across it, ending it with a harsh snap. “‘M not sure what I would have done with your legs wrapped around my neck back then, anyway.”
“Shh,” you bite at him quickly, unable to really form much of any other string of words. But you feel the corner of your mouth pull up into a smirk, completely into the way his dirty mind will always bring you right back where he wants you. Every single fucking time.
It’s almost too much. It almost makes you want to scream out in anger, in exasperated rage at the whole thing… turn around and kiss him and say fuck it all, you had him once and you want him again.
But you know you can’t. You have to paddle.
But then you feel his hand, hot and tense, land on your arm. He grips it for only a second with a couple tiny squeezes before letting it go, resuming his own paddling. A chill flies down your body. You can’t help it. But to be completely honest, you hope he sees your goosebumps.
Not another word has been spoken the entire ride, everyone’s minds likely unable to be settled enough to make small talk, anyway. Ridiculous.
Not only has Sam managed to piss you off, but he’s also managed to get you hot and fucking bothered just by talking about your legs around his neck. God, no. No no. Nope. Too many memories locked away safely to fall into that trap right now.
Finally, you reach the beach of your spot, so ready and willing to run away as soon as your feet hit the sand that you can hardly stand it. The others are already yelping and hollering and stumbling, excited to see what the rest of the night has to hold. You feel envious of them, as you’d just endured an emotional rollercoaster to get back here without a murder happening.
“Crab legs and shrimp in one hour!” Jake yells as everyone begins piling out. “I expect a large conflagration to be ablaze when I’m done!”
“Seafood? At a lake house?” Natalia spits as your boat finally comes to a stop. “Count me out.”
“Why?” Sam says from behind you, already standing and walking back up onto the grass. “Jake makes an excellent—“
“Because I’m allergic, Sam! Didn’t you know that?!” she boasts, struggling to get herself together enough to get out of the boat. “God, I swear you don’t listen to a word I ever say! Ever! Sometimes it’s like I’m talking to a fucking child!”
Your feet are already in the water and you try steadying the boat for her, but her hands are too full to balance herself.
“Come on, Sam, you not going to help your girlfriend get out of the kayak?” Josh offers his help yet again, taking the things from her hands so she can stand.
“She’s not my girlfriend!” Sam yells, his fists bunched at his sides. “She is not.”
Everyone stops. Dead in their tracks.
Eyes wide, mouths agape. No one knows what to say.
Sam huffs, running his hand through his hair as he takes off, stomping his way through the yard. He forcefully picks up a cooler that Jake had left behind and rushes to the house, leaving the rest of you there to stand in a drowning pool of awkwardness.
“Here, let me help you,” you say gently, holding your hand out to help Natalia to her feet.
“Nah sis, don’t need your help,” she says, finally making her way out into the water without fail. Alright then, that was a bitch move. “Apparently I’m not as welcome here as I thought I was.”
“Woah, you don't have to be so rude to him,” Skyler says. “Kinda of uncalled for.”
“Uncalled for?” Natalia rages, picking up the things she’d thrown from the boat onto the grass before getting out. “Uncalled for?! Just like it was uncalled for for him to invite me out here without telling you guys I was coming, uncalled for for him to basically ignore me all day, and definitely uncalled for for him to sneak off into the words with her.”
You step back. “Whoa whoa, that’s not—“
“Natalia, he told us you invited yourself…” Josh intervenes. “Not the other way around…”
“And you think that’s true?!”
Everyone stands still, really unable to move.
“Yeah, I do. He’s uh…my brother. Sorry, I’m gonna believe him first.”
“Ugh, I’m so not doing this,” she huffs, stomping and pushing her way between all of you to follow behind Sam.
You, Quinn, Josh and Skyler stand in utter surprise, looking around at one another with hands over your mouths. Josh trying not to laugh, but you, honestly trying not to cry. Or scream. Or maybe laugh…
“Welp!” Josh claps his hands. “Chef wants a fire, so a fire he shall get. Quinn, my love, a lighter?”
You stand there in the damp heat, the water lapping against the wooden dock, Jake’s laughter fading somewhere up the path, and all that’s left is the echo of Natalia’s footsteps stomping toward the house.
Josh mutters, “Christ,” under his breath, running a hand through his hair. Skyler’s still half-smiling from disbelief, and Quinn’s eyes dart between you and the retreating Natalia.
You can feel Sam’s energy even though he’s yards away, burning, embarrassed, and angry. He’s pacing at the edge of the grass, one hand gripping the back of his neck, the other still clenched. When he looks up, it’s toward you. Not at you. Just in your direction, like he wants to say something but can’t risk the air catching fire again.
You decide you won’t be the one to break it. You never are.
“I’m gonna shower,” you say to no one in particular, though Josh’s brow furrows like he wants to stop you.
“Y/N—”
“I’ll be fine,” you cut softly. “Don’t worry.”
And you are, at least in theory. Fine. That’s what you tell yourself as you walk up the hill, sand biting between your toes, heart hammering harder than it should.
The house is quiet when you slip inside. You can hear the echo of Natalia’s voice somewhere upstairs, muffled and sharp, spewing something about “respect” and “humiliation.” You move faster, not wanting to hear another word.
The guest bathroom mirror catches your reflection. Lake hair, flushed skin, faint streaks of sun across your chest. The shower hisses to life. Cold first, then warm, then hot enough to sting. You step in and let the water slide over your shoulders, washing away the lake and something a little heavier. The words you didn’t say, and the way Sam looked at you when he denied her just now.
You should feel vindicated. You should feel something like relief. Instead, there’s only a hollow ache low in your stomach, and a heat that won’t fade no matter how high you turn the faucet.
Your mind betrays you easily, looping back through every look, every ghost of a touch from the day. His breath. The song. The whispering. The snap of your bikini strap.
You press your palms to the tile and breathe. You tell yourself it’s just the past haunting you. But the truth is simpler and worse. It’s not the past at all. It’s him. It’s always him.
The sound of laughter drifts faintly through the bathroom window. Jake and Josh are still outside, voices light with the the clatter of beer bottles. You try to focus on that. Something normal. Something grounding.
You finish rinsing off, wrap yourself in a towel, and stare at the clothes you’d laid out before you left for the lake. Loose shorts, a soft tank top, and that light cardigan you always bring on trips. Comfortable. Effortless. Harmless. You tell yourself you’re dressing for dinner, not for him. You tell yourself you’re not waiting for him to look at you.
But you tell yourself a lot of things.
—
When you finally step back outside, the sun has sunk lower, casting a honey glow over the trees. Jake’s at the grill with a beer in hand, arguing with Josh about seasoning. The girls have pulled chairs into a circle near the fire pit. It should feel easy again, normal, but even from here, you can feel the undercurrent.
“Hey, you,” Josh calls softly when he sees you. He’s lounging near the cooler, sleeves pushed up, a beer sweating in his hand. “You doing okay?”
You nod. Too quickly. “Yeah. Just needed a little reset.”
His eyes narrow, not buying it for a second. “You sure? You look…” He pauses, searching. “You look like you’re thinking too much.”
You laugh quietly. “That’s nothing new.”
He studies you for a moment, then nudges the cooler open with his foot, handing you a drink. “Whatever’s going on, I’ve got you. You know that, right?”
You force a smile. “Yeah. I know. Thanks, Josh.”
But he knows. You can tell from the small sigh that leaves him, from the way his gaze drifts toward the house, where Sam and Natalia’s silhouettes are visible in one of the upstairs windows.
—
The light over the lake turns to amber, and the air thickens with the smell of butter, lemon, and smoke. Jake stands at the grill in his cutoff shirt, salt and heat glowing on his arms, talking to Josh about the “correct ratio of Cajun seasoning to melted butter” like it’s science. The sound of their laughter rises over the soft clatter of tongs against the pan.
You hover near the porch rail, your drink sweating between your palms. The tension in your chest hasn’t gone anywhere, it just hums quieter, hiding beneath the rhythm of everyone else’s chatter.
From the kitchen window, you can see Sam. He’s moving slower than usual, filling a pot with water for the corn, hair damp from his shower. Natalia’s voice snakes through the open window, sharp and bright. Sam, could you not use that pot? I was going to use that one! He doesn’t answer. His jaw flexes once, twice, and then he steps outside carrying the pot anyway.
You shouldn’t notice how the sun touches the wet strands of his hair. You shouldn’t notice how his shirt clings to his shoulders. And yet you do.
Jake calls your name. “You good at cracking crab legs, or am I about to have to give you a crash course?”
You answer with a weak laugh, stepping closer to the table he’s set out by the fire pit. He’s already laid newspaper down, two bowls for shells, a mountain of shrimp grilled to perfection. Everything smells like summer and salt and a little bit of tension.
“Looks incredible,” you tell him.
“Good. Maybe food’ll calm everyone down,” Jake replies, eyes cutting toward the house for just a second.
You don’t ask what he means. You don’t have to.
Dinner begins in that cautious, tip-toed way that groups do when they’re pretending the air isn’t loaded. Natalia sits beside Sam but keeps her attention on her phone, flicking through photos. The others talk about nothing of substance. The lake, the weather, the ridiculous price of gas in the next town over. You nod along, smiling when you should, and sipping too often from your white claw.
Jake’s cooking really is good, which helps. You’re halfway through your plate when he says, “Firewood’s getting low. Anyone want to help me grab a few logs before it gets dark?”
“I’ll come,” you offer immediately, grateful for an excuse to move. Josh lifts an eyebrow, as if to ask if you’re sure, and you flash him a tiny smile.
You follow Jake into the trees, the evening light stretching long shadows across the ground. The forest smells like pine and smoke. Somewhere back near the water, you hear Sam laugh. A short, surprised sound, and it hits you straight in the ribs.
Jake’s already collecting branches, efficient and quiet. “You okay?” he asks without looking up.
You shrug, pretending to adjust your grip on the bundle of sticks in your arms. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“I’ve been better.”
He nods once, letting it rest. That’s what you like about Jake. He doesn’t push, just hands you a heavier log so you have something to hold instead of the truth.
When you come back to the clearing, the fire’s catching. Sparks twist upward, tiny galaxies disappearing into dusk. Sam’s crouched beside the pit, poking at the kindling with a stick. Natalia’s gone. Inside, maybe. The sight of him alone by the flames pulls your pulse higher, no matter how much you wish it wouldn’t.
He glances up as you drop the wood onto the pile. “Thanks,” he says, voice low, rough from the smoke. For a moment, it’s almost normal. Almost like all the months between haven’t rearranged the two of you into strangers.
“Jake’s the one doing the work,” you answer, brushing your hands off on your shorts.
Sam studies you. “You change your hair or something?”
You blink. “No.”
He nods slowly, half a smile tugging at his mouth. “Looks different. Lighter.”
You hate that your heart trips on the smallest things. You hate that he still remembers how to make you stumble with almost nothing.
Jake clears his throat. “Alright, I’ll go grab the rest of the food. Don’t let this burn down the whole place.”
When he disappears toward the house, silence stretches between you and Sam, filled only by the crackling of wood and the hiss of the lake behind you.
“Rough day,” he says at last.
“Understatement of the year.”
He kicks at the sand with his shoe, then looks at you. Hard, like he’s searching for proof that you’re still angry, or that you still care. “You didn’t have to stay quiet earlier. When she started in on you.”
“I didn’t want to make it worse.”
“It’s already worse,” he says, the words flat, resigned.
You cross your arms. “Then maybe you should fix it.”
“I’m trying,” he mutters, and when he meets your eyes again, there’s something raw there. “I shouldn’t have let her talk about you like that.”
“You also shouldn’t have—nevermind.” You stop yourself. What’s the point? The air’s thick enough with things you can’t say.
He watches you, waiting for you to continue, but you shake your head and look away. The fire crackles louder, filling the gap where your voice should be.
—
By the time everyone gathers again, the night’s fully fallen. The lake’s gone black, the surface reflecting pinpricks of starlight. Jake’s playing music gently from his guitar, something bluesy and slow. The group’s laughter ebbs and flows with the waves of conversation. Natalia’s reappeared, quiet now, drinking a hard cider.
You take a seat on the bench nearest the fire, the warmth licking at your knees. Josh sits beside you, close enough that you can feel his shoulder, solid and calm. He leans toward you. “Still think you’re fine?”
You exhale, watching sparks dance upward. “I’m getting there.”
“Okay,” he says simply, but his tone tells you he doesn’t believe you.
Across the circle, Sam’s staring into the fire, face caught in the orange light. His expression is unreadable, but every few minutes, you catch his gaze flickering toward you, soft, hesitant, and almost guilty. Every single time, you look away first.
Jake passes around another round of drinks, and for a while the conversation smooths out again. Stories from past tours, half-remembered nights in cities that blur together. You laugh when you’re supposed to, and the sound feels foreign in your mouth.
The hours stretch thin. The fire burns lower. One by one, people start peeling away toward their rooms until it’s just you, the coals, and the whisper of crickets. Skyler and Quinn had decided to share a bowl, and you knew from their immediate giggles and relaxed posture that they wouldn’t last much longer, anyway.
You stay because you don’t want to go inside yet. Because somehow the couch feels lonelier than this.
The fire is half-collapsed now, a slow, pulsing heart of orange deep inside the ash. Everyone else has gone. Their laughter has thinned into the walls of the house, muted by screens and showers and doors closing one after another. What’s left is you, the smell of smoke, and the soft hum of the lake.
You pull your knees up to your chest and stare into the embers. The air’s cooler now, sharp enough to sting your skin where the flames can’t reach.
You tell yourself you’ll just stay until the last spark goes out. Like you’re waiting for something to end, though you can’t name what.
The wood hisses, spits, and breaks. You imagine each crack as a sound you’ve swallowed all day. Every unsaid word, every bitten back feeling.
You picture Sam upstairs, probably sitting on the edge of some bed, running his hands through his hair, trying to fix something already too broken to patch. You picture Natalia, pouting in the mirror, replaying every scene with herself as the victim.
And then you picture the look on his face earlier. His jaw tight, his voice low. She’s not my girlfriend. You keep replaying that too, even though it shouldn’t matter, even though it’s the exact kind of thing that keeps you awake at night.
The flames shift, and a wave of heat brushes your knees. You remember the kayak…His whisper, his hand on your arm, the way the world seemed to tilt for just a second like it used to. Like nothing had changed.
But everything has changed. He changed it.
You take another sip of your drink, now warm and flat, and swallow hard. You’re angry with yourself for still feeling it. For still wanting anything from him after the mess he made of you. But want doesn’t care about pride. Want never does.
The night is so quiet you can hear the insects in the grass and the rhythmic push of water against the dock. You can almost convince yourself you’re somewhere else. Some other summer, before the lies, before the silence, before you knew what it meant to lose someone who was never really yours.
You close your eyes and rest your chin on your knees. The fire makes a low pop, sending a single spark floating into the dark. You watch it rise until it’s gone, swallowed by the night.
Maybe this is all that’s left between you and him. A few sparks from something that burned too hot to last.
You should go inside. You should let it die.
But you stay.
You stay until the light fades to nothing, until the air turns cold, until you hear it. The first sharp sound of raised voices down by the dock.
At first, it doesn’t register. Just another argument, another flare of drama you want no part of. But then you hear your name in Natalia’s voice, and Sam’s right after, lower, sharper, too familiar. You freeze, listening. The words carry. You embarrassed me. Stop twisting it. Don’t walk away from me.
You stand slowly, heart knocking against your ribs. When the shouting turns into the sound of hurried footsteps on the dock, you start toward them, intending to step in, to do something before the night collapses completely.
“…don’t talk about her, Sam!” Natalia shouts, her silhouette a jagged outline against the lake. She’s weaving slightly, the rhythm of too many drinks, the kind of motion that spells trouble long before it hits.
Sam’s back is turned to you, shoulders drawn up, hands out like he’s trying to keep her from doing something stupid. You can’t make out his words, only the shape of his frustration in the air between them.
You slow your steps, hands half-raised. “Hey, what’s going on?”
The question barely leaves your mouth before Natalia spins, eyes wild and glassy.
“Of course you’re here,” she spits. Her voice carries across the dock, sharp enough to cut through the night. “Here to finish what you started?”
“What?” The word leaves you flat, confused. “I just—”
But she’s already moving, storming past Sam with a half-sob, half-growl. The dock rattles under her steps as she brushes past you, hard, a full shoulder check that sends you and her stumbling backward.
The world tilts for a second, the air sharp and cold. Then there’s a splash.
Natalia shrieks, the sound slicing through the quiet night, and you watch in shock as she disappears beneath the water. Her limbs flail, sending ripples across the black surface, and Sam lunges forward, hands outstretched.
For a split second, everything stops.
“Jesus Christ!” Sam’s voice cracks open the silence, pure panic. He’s already stripping off his flannel as he dives in.
You don’t think, you just run, cold air slicing through your lungs, toes barely gripping the dock before you leap in after them.
The shock of the water steals your breath. You kick hard, eyes stinging, scanning until you catch movement. A hand, a flash of hair. Sam’s got her under the arms, dragging her up, but she’s coughing, thrashing. You reach for her other arm, helping haul her toward the shallows. Rocks bite at your legs and you can feel the scraping but you don’t care.
When you finally pull her onto the bank, she’s sputtering lake water and swearing. You collapse beside her, gasping, shaking from adrenaline.
“What the hell happened?” you manage between breaths.
She pushes her hair out of her face, glaring up at you. “You—” she coughs hard, spitting water—“you pushed me!”
The accusation hits like a slap. “What? No? Natalia–”
Sam’s voice breaks in, firm, desperate. “Nat. She would never.”
But Natalia’s already screaming again with wild, half-drunk fury. “Seriously, Sam? You’re defending her?! After everything—”
“No, Nat–”
She wipes water from her face with the back of her sleeve, hissing through clenched teeth. “You better watch yourself,” she spits.
“Enough!” Sam snaps, but it’s too late. The noise has drawn the others. Jake’s running down from the yard, Josh close behind, flashlight cutting across the beach.
By the time they reach you, everyone’s shouting. Questions, confusion, and the smell of wet earth thick around you. Jake crouches, grabbing your arm. “Y/N, you’re bleeding.”
“I’m fine,” you say automatically, though your knees burn.
Natalia’s still heaving, eyes blazing. “She pushed me!”
“She didn’t,” Sam says again, quieter this time, exhausted.
Josh steps between them, voice calm but sharp. “Okay, okay. Enough. It’s late, everyone’s soaked. Let’s just go inside and we can…figure it out in the morning.”
He turns to you. “Come on, let’s get you inside. I’ll find that rollaway bed for you. Everyone needs space tonight.”
You let him lead you up the path, too tired to argue, too wrung out to even look back. The voices behind you fade into the hum of the night, and you can’t tell which sound is your heartbeat and which is the water.
—
The cabin is quiet now. Your hair sticks to your neck, your clothes damp and cold, and the cut on your knee aches every time you shift. The night air outside has seeped in, carrying the faint smell of smoke and the lingering chill from the lake.
Josh moves quietly around the room, his presence steady and unassuming. He sets up a cot beside the wall, smoothing the blanket before stepping back. When he looks at you, he offers a half-smile…tired, almost apologetic, but comforting. “We’ll fix it, I promise,” he says softly. “Sleep.”
He leaves the room, allowing you to change out of your lake soaked clothes, before you crawl into the small, metallic cot.
You pull your knees closer to your chest, letting the cot’s thin mattress support your weary body. It’s surprisingly comfortable. The warmth of the cabin is faint, but it feels safer than the night outside, safer than the tension still clinging to the air. Your eyelids grow heavy, the exhaustion from the evening’s chaos pressing down like a weight.
You close your eyes, trying to shut out the memory of the dock, Natalia’s shriek and the cold splash of icy water. But the images linger, spinning behind your eyelids. Why does it still hurt so much? I didn’t push her. I didn’t. So why does my chest feel like it’s being twisted?
The shadows cast by the fading firelight stretch across the floorboards, flickering gently with the movement of your shallow breaths. I should sleep. Just sleep. I can’t fix tonight, I can’t fix anything… I just need to survive it.
Slowly, your eyelids grow heavy. Thoughts blur and twist together. Warmth, cold, fear, longing, until they’re nothing but a soft, distant hum beneath the ache in your chest.
And just as sleep is about to claim you, a hand rests lightly on your cheek. It’s gentle enough to startle you and warm enough to make your heart stutter. Sam’s face is close, shadowed in the dim light, his eyes soft and unguarded. He stares at you for a moment before finally speaking.
“I know you didn’t push her,” he whispers, his voice almost reverent, careful not to startle you.
You blink, swallowing hard. “Then why didn’t you say more? Why didn’t you—”
“Because I was trying not to make it worse than it already was,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing across your cheek in the most tender motion.
“You did anyway,” you whisper, voice barely audible, a tremor threading through your words.
He leans closer, resting his forehead briefly against yours. For a moment, neither of you breathes. The world narrows to the gentle rise and fall of your chests, the quiet intimacy of a touch that speaks louder than words ever could.
And then, softly, he presses his lips to yours. Careful, fleeting, and almost reluctant. Not a kiss of desire, but one of reassurance, apology and unspoken promise. Your eyes flutter closed, holding onto the warmth and the steadiness of him.
When he pulls back, the faintest trace of a sad smile lingers on his lips. “Go back to sleep, I’ll see you in the morning,” he whispers, and this time you listen.
His fingers linger a moment longer, brushing a strand of damp hair from your face, before he quietly pulls back. The door clicks softly behind him as he leaves, and you’re left alone with the deafening silence.
Sleep comes slowly and unevenly. The memory of his hand on your face and the softness of his lips etched sharply into your mind, leaving you ache-filled and yearning even in your quietest, loneliest, and darkest hour.
—
You’re not sure how long you slept. You’re not sure you even really slept, at all. If it weren’t for the residual alcohol forcing your body into some type of REM stage, you’re positive you’d have stayed up all night long.
But you’re startled awake again by the sound of the door opening. Not carefully, but more so to make sure that whoever opened it, woke you up. And in pour Skyler and Quinn.
“Good morning sunshine,” Quinn whispers as she pads toward the cot, her feet covered in thick socks and hands full with two cups of coffee. Skyler shuts the door and follows behind, skipping every other step to make it over to you faster.
“What in the ever-loving fuck happened last night?!” Quinn asks as you take the mug, sitting up on the squeaky cot as they take their places on the plush rug on the floor below you.
You take a deep breath, shaking away the half-sleep from your brain before indulging in a long drink of the steaming coffee.
“I don’t know, guys. I don’t even know…” you reply, putting a hand to your forehead in hopes that maybe you can just suppress the memory, wipe it clean away instead of having to rehash and relive it all over again.
“We went to bed fairly late,” Quinn goes on, criss-crossing her legs below her. “Didn’t think there’d be that much drama still.”
“Neither did I,” you laugh half heartedly. “Natalia just…” You bite the words in two, her name feeling like shards of glass in your mouth. “I was the last one sitting by the fire, just watching it die out, really…minding my own business. And all the sudden I hear her and Sam down on the dock, the same gritty voice yelling at him again. Both of them, arguing… It sounded like it was getting kind of heated, to the point where I felt like I needed to intervene just to act as a buffer so they didn’t kill each other. So I did, I went down there just to try and calm them, but she– she went fucking wild, she saw me and spit more insane accusations and tried to push by me. She was already stumbling over her own feet, and then she shoulder checked me, made us both trip. She fell into the water… she was really intoxicated, guys, honestly my stomach fucking sank. Sam jumped right in after her, and so did I… we pulled her up out of the water and we got her onto the beach… She was choking, crying… still spewing her shit even after we’d just saved her ass…”
“Jesus…” Skyler breathes as they both lock into the story.
“Even when we got her safe she was still going on and on, she said that I fucking pushed her off the dock,” you say, your mind already numb to having to relive it all again, relive the look on Sam’s face…
“What?!” they both cry in unison, still trying to stay quiet. “Was she serious?!”
You nod, “Yeah, she was serious. Accused me of shoving her right in.”
“And Sam took up for you, right? He told her that you would never–”
You shrug one shoulder. “He tried, I guess. His efforts didn’t blow me away or anything…” you recollect. “Didn’t have much time to talk about it before Jake and Josh came down and pulled us all back to the house.” For a second, you contemplate telling them that Sam came back into the room, told you he knew that you’d never push her into the water, kissed you…
But you leave it. It’s all too much.
“God,” Quinn rests back, hugging her legs to her chest. “This is ridiculous. I’m so sorry we missed everything… we shouldn’t have gotten so stoned.”
“S’okay,” you go on. “I was really just enjoying myself, alone, watching the fire die… ‘til the tornado rolled through.”
“Why is she so hell-bent on being so horrid to you?” Skyler asks. “Like where is this jealousy coming from?”
You stay blank, looking them both in the eyes as the same old thoughts swirl around in your mind.
Natalia’s gut feeling isn’t wrong. And that is the hardest pill to swallow.
“Maybe I should just go home,” you mutter, swirling the cooling coffee in your hand. “Maybe I should just leave, let them enjoy their time–”
“No the hell you will not!” Skyler bites. “This is your vacation, Y/N, Natalia invited herself without any of our knowledge. You paid the money to be here, you made the plans with us. You’re staying, that’s final. She can fuck all the way off, for all I care.”
Quinn nods in agreement.
Your heart wrenches again, watching your best friends defend you so intensely, when in all reality, you’ve still kept them in the dark. Even with everything that has happened, even with all of the drama of the past twelve hours, you still hold on to hope that everything that happened with you and Sam could still stay just a memory. A slice of time locked away in a safe and buried in the deepest part of the ocean.
But with the way things are going, it seems that the universe has other plans. It’s almost unavoidable.
“Thanks, guys,” you reply solemnly, your entire body heavy with dread of getting out of this bed and facing the day. Facing everyone else… facing Sam.
“Go take a shower,” Quinn says, standing and taking your hand. “Get yourself back together, and come out here with us. We have no plans for the whole day.”
“Are Sam and her–”
“Still asleep,” Skyler interrupts. “After hearing all of that, I’m sure she’ll sleep half the day away.”
“That’s probably in her best interest,” you say, pulling the covers away from your legs.
—
“Want some whiskey in that?” Jake growls in your ear as you pour yourself another cupful of coffee.
You chuckle as you turn to him, a look of pure mischief on his face. “It’s 9:30 in the morning, Jacob.”
“And? We’re on vacation, and you jumped into the lake to save a crazy lady from drowning last night. You deserve it,” he goes on, keeping his voice hush.
“No, she pushed her, remember?” Skyler bites back a sarcastic laugh.
“Oh right, yeah. You pushed the crazy lady into the lake. You need a stiff drink!” Jake says.
“Ugh, you’re both impossible,” you laugh along with them. “The last thing I need is spiked caffeine, right now. My nerves are fucking shot.”
“About to get a lot worse,” Skyler nods toward the window overlooking the lake, making you all turn to see Natalia walking across the deck with Sam briskly following behind her.
“Fuck, I thought they were gonna sleep all day,” Josh says as he and Quinn join the room, the five of you suddenly having to quickly prepare yourselves for the tornado, again.
Not a word is spoken by anyone as she bursts through the door, hands and hair a flying mess as she goes right for the refrigerator. She begins pulling the items that she brought along and stuffing them into a bag, and you notice that the mascara she didn’t wash off last night is strung darkly down her cheeks.
Josh is the first to break the awkward silence. “Good morning, you two. How did everyone sle—“
“Not a wink, Josh. If I’m being honest!” Sam says a bit too sharply.
“Oh,” Josh goes on. “Too much adrenaline to wind down after jumping in the lake?”
“You could call it that,” Sam bites, and you can hear the venom in his voice. Natalia is still working loudly stuffing all her things into a plastic bag, making more noise than she should be.
“You need any help, Natalia?” Quinn asks, and you shoot her a look.
She stands in a huff, brushing her hair from her face before placing her hands on her hips. “No. Nope! I’m good. I’m actually going to do you all a favor and get the hell out of here.”
“What, why? We’ve still got four days…” Josh plays coy.
“Why? Why? Because it's blatantly obvious that I’m not welcome here, by any of you. I tried to be nice, and help make plans and food and everything but… I think I may have overstayed my welcome. I’m leaving.”
“Nat, you were the one that blew up last night, we were all having a perfectly fine evening until you wanted to take things a step too far,” Sam begins to argue. You can feel the energy in the room instantly switch.
Natalia steps toward Sam, who is sitting kicked back nonchalantly at the kitchen table. “A step too far? You’re joking, right? And I didn’t blow up, I was far from blowing up, Sam.”
Sam sits forward in his chair, leaning down on his elbows. “Oh, so you screaming in my face all night and then threatening to drive home drunk and me taking your keys and then you rushing down to the fucking lake to get away from me wasn’t blowing up?”
“No,” she says, crossing her arms. “It could have been way worse.” You wonder how the hell that could even be possible.
“You’re so full of shit, Natalia. You told me meeting me was a mistake. That coming here to spend time with my family was a waste of your time. And not to mention that stunt you pulled with Y/N on the dock…”
Natalia storms forward. “She pushed me in the fucking lake, Sam! I don’t know why you can’t get that through your head!”
“No, she fucking didn’t!” Sam stands and yells even louder, charging toward her.
The rest of you stand dumbfounded, unable to speak or even intervene much out of pure and utter surprise at her ridiculous display. You feel your body stiffening, more and more rage flowing through your veins as she speaks about you like you aren’t even there, standing ten feet from her. Your fists are balled up and tucked into the pocket of your hoodie.
“I was there! I have eyes!” he yells, his hands flying through the air. “You rushed her, pushed past her and fell into the lake. Stop trying to place blame onto her for something that she didn’t fucking do!”
“Oh, so now you’re defending her? Again? Real fucking nice, Sam.”
You can’t help it. You feel the words begin spewing from your mouth.
“What is with this, Natalia? Why are you so pressed by me being here?! Why are you over here trying to make up lies about what happened last night?” you yell in succession, making her turn to you.
“Ha, wow. You are cute. Bringing up lies when that’s all you’ve been doing the whole time we’ve been here…!”
“Nat, just stop,” Sam complains, stepping between the two of you.
“Natalia, what in the hell are you even talking about?” Skyler puts her two cents in, and you can feel the rage beginning to swirl through the air amongst everyone, now.
Josh steps forward, ever the peacemaker to try and simmer everyone down. “Listen, listen, maybe we should all just take a minu—“
Natalia steps forward again, putting the back of her hand on Sam’s chest to brush past him toward you. “I’m not stupid, and I’m not blind, either, Y/N. So I think the best thing for me to do right now is get out of here before I make any more mistakes.”
It’s silent for a beat as she brushes between you again, going to grab her bag of things from the counter. “Sammy, you can stay or you can go. Just know that if you stay, you can count on never hearing from me again. And you can go ahead and lose my fucking number.” She crosses her arms accusingly over her chest, her cheeks reddened with madness as she kicks her foot out to the side, waiting for Sam’s decision.
Everyone looks to Sam, watching as his mouth curves and opens repeatedly, his head obviously arguing with his heart. “Can’t we just talk—“
“No!” she screams, her eyes darting to you. “I’m not talking about it anymore! I see how you look at her, and how you two snuck away at the island and tried to lie about why you left, and how you’re constantly flirting when you think no one is looking. I’m not going to sit here and watch it any more!”
“Are you serious, Natalia?!” you raise your voice, hand gripping at your chest. “You think I’m jealous of you and wan—“
“No sweetie, I know you want him! And I know that you’re jealous that I have him! So you can stop with the performance, because you aren’t fooling anyone.”
You feel your voice catch in the back of your throat. It’s bubbling, and your breath is heavy in your chest. You can feel it rising like bile, daring you to let it all go. “I’m not jealous of you, Natalia.”
She charges forward again, her face flushed and her eyes wild. “Oh really?”
“No, you know why? Because I had Sam first! You think you’re over here telling me that I’m jealous when in all reality, you’re the one having my leftovers!”
Your words hang heavy in the room. Your face, instantly hot with regret. Fuck. Fuck fuck, you just let it fly. You hold your breath, waiting for someone to talk, for someone to move… but nothing happens.
Natalia finally retreats, her eyes blinking through tears. “Leftovers?” she whispers.
“Wait… wait wait…” Josh says from behind you, a sudden stirring of heavy sighs and remarks of mad disbelief coming from your friends.
Your eyes shoot to Sam, who is now plopped back down into the chair, his head in his hands. Shit.
Suddenly, Skyler and Quinn are in your orbit. You can’t see them, you can just feel them and the aura of some type of rage radiating from them. This is about to get bad.
“Y/N,” Skyler says meekly, “are you saying you…”
“Yes. Yes she is, okay? God damnit…” Sam stands, his voice loud but defeated. “You’re right, Natalia, okay? We have a past. We have a long and very serious past. And we—we lied to you about it. To all of you…”
“What the fuck?” Jake mumbles from somewhere in the room.
“You’re joking, right?” Quinn adds. “You? And Sam?”
“I—I…” your mouth tries to move, to connect with your racing mind, but the words escape you. How do you explain this?
“When?” Jake asks, suddenly stepping forward, his eyes downcast and accusatory. Even bigger fuck.
You’re panicking. “Ah, uh… way over a year ago, it… it wasn’t that involved, we were just—“
“Oh, don’t drag it out even further, Y/N,” Sam groans. “It’s all fucking out in the open, now…” Sam pulls his hair through his fingers, squeezing it hard before he takes a breath. “It was serious. It was very serious. We snuck away any chance we got. We kept it from you, because at the time we didn’t want it to be anything more than just sex…”
“Oooh my god…” Skyler shakes her hands and steps away, and you can feel her and Quinn share a look of disgust. Fuck, they hate you.
“You guys were sleeping together,” Jake intervenes again, his voice solid and blank, his eyes distant but focused on you.
You nod, swallowing.
“Hah, see? I told you I wasn’t crazy,” Natalia bites. “You want her just as badly now, too, don’t you Sam?”
Your chest heaves, the feeling of the weight of the world beginning to tumble.
Sam huffs. “Natalia, don’t make me answer that…”
She laughs hard. “Wow… sorry I turned your little family trip into a group therapy session!” She keeps laughing, her voice shrill and grating. “Guess it’d be as good a time as ever to tell you that Josh… sweet Joshy babe… I saw you texting someone who wasn’t Quinn two nights ago on the deck. You really don’t do a good job at hiding your phone, honey. Those were some awfully nice photos you were sending to whoever Jackie is…”
Oh. Fuck.
Everyone’s focus shifts to Josh. “Whoa whoa, now I can explain that…” he chokes.
“Jackie?” Quinn yells. “That girl we met at the bar that night? You got her number?!”
Josh steps forward, his posture suddenly falls. “Quinn, baby, let me explain. It wasn’t—“
“Oh, don’t even try, Josh. God, I knew I should have trusted my gut that night…” Quinn murmurs, her voice chopped. “You sent her photos?!”
Josh stuffs his hands in his pockets, his jaw clenched, his eyes wide. After ten or so seconds of silence, he nods. “I did.”
Quinn steps away, her hands pressed to her brow as she shakes her head, pacing toward the other room. Josh follows after her, her name falling from his lips as he chases after her. You hear Natalia’s laughter growing again, only finding the whole thing to be deviously hilarious, apparently.
“You think this is funny, Natalia?!” Skyler steps in. “Your big mouth just blew up four people’s lives and you’re laughing?!”
“Blew them up?!” Natalia retorts. “Oh honey, I know as well as anybody that this group was a ticking time bomb. All I did was just… light the fuse.”
“You’re fucking ridiculous, Natalia,” Sam complains from the table, his head still in his hands.
“Yeah, well it seems Sam didn’t want you here, anyway, so maybe you should have taken his hint,” Skyler bites back, and you can hear the madness in her voice, now. She has had enough of her.
Natalia bites her lips and steps forward, leaning on the back of the chair Sam’s sitting in toward Skyler. “I don’t think you’re the safe one in this situation, boo…”
Just then Quinn bursts back into the room, a bag in hand and tears streaming down her face. She bolts for the front door, and you share a quick look of concern with Skyler. No no no. Everything is falling apart.
Josh rushes in behind her. “This is all your fucking fault!” His finger is pointed at Sam, charging toward him with his jaw tense.
“Mine?!” Sam sits up.
“Yeah, you shouldn’t have let her come. You shouldn’t have let a stranger tag along to our family trip… now look what she’s done!”
“Don’t point the finger, Josh… you were the one sending risqué photos, not me,” Natalia says, inspecting her nails.
“You don’t know the fucking half of it, Natalia! Now please stop inserting yourself into business that isn’t yours!” Josh yells, standing back up straight for a second before laying into Sam again. “You know better than to not consult with us before doing something stupid like this, Sam! You should have asked if we cared that she stayed, you should have checked with us all first!”
“Don’t yell at him, Josh… Natalia invited herself, remember?” Jake pulls Josh’s finger down from poking at the air in front of Sam’s face.
“Stay the fuck out of this, Jake…” Josh retorts.
Jake grunts, getting louder. “No, don’t come at me sideways… go chase after your girl that just ran crying out the door, you absolute fuck!”
Josh stands again, completely abandoning his beef with Sam.
“Oh, I’m the fuck?! Why don’t you explain to our brother here why you chose to drink after that question in the hot tub the other night? What was it…oh, ‘never have I ever made out with a prom date that wasn’t mine?’ Josh laughs diabolically, his eyes bouncing back and forth between all of you.
Josh, no. No.
“Oh! I forgot! There was more to that… why don’t you explain to him why you drank when the question of ‘never have I ever gotten someone off in public’ came around? It was all the same person, wasn’t it?”
Sam turns in his seat. Your entire body is on fire.
“Jake, what’s he talking about? Who was it at prom? Who did you…”
“It doesn’t fucking matter,” Jake says. “That was years ago…”
“I mean it kinda matters,” Sam goes on, standing from his chair to approach Jake. “Especially since I’ve never heard those stories before...”
Jake stiffens, his knuckles white on the chair back he’s holding. Fuck.
Sam slowly approaches Jake, his height dwarfing him in the process. “Tell me, Jake. Since we’re all airing it out… who did you hook up with at prom?”
“Me, okay? It was me…” you blurt, your eyes falling to the floor.
Sam slowly turns on his heels to face you, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. You can’t bring yourself to look at anyone.
“Y/N…” Sam mutters under his breath. “My brother?”
Natalia’s laugh only grows. Seething, bitter, and shrill. “Oh, this is too good.”
Finally, you bring your tear-ridden eyes to look at Sam. You prepare yourself to take the beating that his words will surely bring. But nothing hits you as hard as the look of pure heartbreak on his face. “…My brother?”
“It was ten fucking years ago, guys,” you try to explain. “We were drunk, and young, and stupid… It didn’t mean anything… Sam you were…you were only fifteen then…”
“How many times?” Sam asks, his question directed at you while his eyes stay trained on Jake.
“What?!” you breathe.
“How many fucking times, Y/N?”
“Once, Sam. Once, that’s all… I swear…”
You watch Jake’s expression as his little brother’s face draws closer in to his own, his entire body stiff and seething. You know that Sam is looking for confirmation.
Finally Jake nods, his eyes prickled with guilty tears. “Once.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me…” Skyler’s voice breaks through the moment, shattering your entire world even more. “You don’t think that’s something that a best friend should share? You’re fucking kidding me…”
And then she, too, steps between the group, her shoulder hitting hard into Jake as she does so.
“Sky… please…”
“No,” she turns back around. “You know, no. Both of you, all of you, just fucking…stop. You’ve all been lying, none of you are innocent. Everything is completely fucked. Maybe Natalia was right… maybe she did light the fuse for a good reason.”
The entire room around you seems to crumble as you process what has just unfolded… the lies, the hiding, the scandal… everything is heavy, clouded and muddled. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears, as your heart doing its best to keep you standing up straight. You feel like collapsing. You feel like surrendering.
Skyler slams the patio door, the glass of the door and windows shaking the whole room and leaving the silence to reverberate off the walls. Everyone is still.
“Welp!” Natalia claps her hands. “Guess I’ll be on my way…” she gathers up her bags and pulls her sunglasses down over her eyes, looking as though she doesn’t have a care in the world. “Don’t worry, Josh, I’ll check on Quinn on my way out.”
She fishes her keys from the bowl on the table, clicking a button as you hear her Mercedes beep to unlock outside. “Bye, Sam. Good riddance. Oh, and Y/N, guess you can enjoy my leftovers, now. Ta-ta everyone!”
The door slams behind her and the room is still left silent, guilt, sorrow, rage and confusion filling every particle of air and every exhaled breath you take.
No one dares look at one another.
No one dares make the situation worse with anything but the truth.
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