warnings: drunk reader, sleepy Jake, a missing shoe, SMUT 18+!, drunk sex, established relationship/prior consent, not-so dry humping, unprotected sex, dirty talk, choking, crying during sex, insanely in love emotional shit, lemme know if I missed any!
a/n: this is based off of this dear sweet ask I received ♡ hope you enjoy!
Masterlist
The porch light is still on.
The sight of it makes you stop in the yard, frowning as your heart aches at it. The fact your boyfriend was kind enough to do something so small brings tears to your eyes.
Now normally, you wouldn't be so torn up over this. But, with half of an entire bar running through your system— coupled with the fact you'd been thinking about him all night— you're emotional.
You bring your gaze to the front steps. Concrete steps that you know you're going to stumble over. So you take them slowly, one daunting, solid step at a time as they sway slightly in front of you.
“Fuck,” you whisper, grabbing onto the railing like your life depended on it. Finally you make it up, and you rumple your lips as you raise your purse, searching for your keys.
You feel lopsided, all warm and floaty as you dig through your purse, cursing yourself for not cleaning it out before you left for the bar.
Fuck it, you think after you've come up empty— no keys. Did you even bring them?
You make it to the door, leaning all your body weight against it as you twist the knob. You gasp in elation as the door opens.
You stumble inside, leaning against the door as you shut it, calling out his name loudly.
He's been racing through your mind all night. From the time you left with a kiss on your cheek from him, he's practically all you've thought about.
And with the liquor in you, your thoughts have turned less PG, to more R-rated. The past hour alone, your brain has been plagued with filthy things you want to do with him.
You're halfway down the hallway when your bedroom door opens. You stop in place, a grin growing on your face as Jake steps out into the hallway. He's been asleep, his hair sticking up in places, his pajama bottoms slung low on his hips, and a sleepy furrow between his brows as he blinks at the light of the hallway.
“Hi honey,” he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep.
“Hi, lover,” you giggle, “Oh, I've missed you.”
He grins as you make your way to him, throwing your arms around his shoulders, “You smell like a bar, sweetheart,” he murmurs as you start to leave sloppy kisses over his lips.
“S'cause I was at one,” you say, kissing along his jaw. “You smell good. All yummy and shit.”
He hums a quiet laugh, “God, you're drunk,” his hands are warm and steady at your waist.
“Yeah, so?” You ask, peppering tiny wet kisses down the column of his throat. Before he can respond, you lick a thick stripe up the side of his throat, ending it with a wet, messy kiss at the edge of his jaw.
“Hey,” he starts, his voice low, “Maybe we should get you to bed—”
“I don't wanna,” you melt into his, laying all your weight into him as you pout up at him.
“Okay, but—”
You stand on your tiptoes, pressing your lips directly over his and swallowing down his words. He hums in disapproval, but he kisses you back, never one to deny any affection when it comes to you.
You push him back into the room, “Let me love on you,” you say, sliding your hands down his bare skin, “Please, Jakey? It's all I've thought about all night. I missed you so bad.”
He looks like he wants to say yes, but he hesitates, so you grab the waistband of his pajamas and nudge him toward the bed.
“How am I ever gonna say no to you?” He asks, his lips pressing to yours, holding you gently as you try to maneuver him onto the bed.
“You don't,” you say, mustering enough of your wits to shove him back.
He huffs a breathy laugh, before he frowns, “Baby, where's your other shoe?”
You look down, finding only one strappy heel on your feet, “Dunno— I thought I had them both on.”
He grins, helping you into his lap when you lift your foot and start to crawl up. He leans to the side, reaching over and unclasping the little buckle at your ankle.
You pout your lips, your heart softening, as he slips your shoe from your foot, before he tosses it out of the way.
“I love you,” you tell him quickly before you grab his face and kiss him hungrily.
He hums, as if caught off guard, his hands moving back to your hips as you settle completely over him.
“What has gotten into you?” He asks, breathless as you start to kiss his throat again.
“Take off your pants,” you demand, your hands going down to the waistband, tugging at them, not fully processing that you're in the way.
“God damn,” he breathes.
"Take off your fucking pants."
"Maybe we should—"
"You should shut up and get fucking naked right now.”
He nods, an uneven sigh leaving him, “Okay.”
You reach for his pants again, tugging them down and whining as his cock is revealed to you.
You press your hips against him tightly, rocking slowly as you attack his neck with kisses yet again, loving the way he tastes and feels beneath your lips.
Even when you're sober, you love the taste of his skin, it's warm and woodsy, mixed with a natural something that you can only describe as Jake. And when you've been fucking for a while, you love to lick and kiss the sweat from his heated, soft skin.
“I wanna fuckin' eat you up,” you tell him, still rocking your hips against him, sighing at the lace still in the way, “I want these fucking clothes off.”
He hums in amusement, reaching up and easing the zipper of your dress down, before he pulls the dress off of you completely. You lean into him completely, resting your head against his shoulder as he manages to find a way to slip your panties off of you.
When his hands settle at your hips, you sigh immediately as he pulls you back against him, your bare, wet center pressing against him with nothing in the way.
You reach up to his shoulders as you straighten up, and push him back until his back is against the mattress. You grind in his lap for a moment, choking out a sound as you slip along his hardened length.
He looks absolutely delicious like this— his hair fanned out around his head, his eyebrows furrowed together, his lips kiss swollen and red, parted around heavy breaths, and his cheeks are flushed a beautiful pink that makes you whine.
“You're so fuckin’ beautiful,” your voice is breathless, each rock of your hips making your body tense as you realize you can most definitely come like this.
“So are you, baby,” he murmurs, his hands trailing up your waist, smoothing back down and guiding you as your movements become uneven.
“I'm gonna fuck you stupid,” you whisper, your eyes fluttering shut as he moves you against him in a rhythm that does more for you than the sloppy, uncoordinated one you were trying.
You melt back into him, pressing your lips to his chest, sighing against the firm muscle. Then you stick out your tongue, licking over the curve of his pec before you suckle at it.
You hum lazily, tilting your chin down and flattening your tongue directly over his nipple.
“Jesus Christ,” he breathes in surprise, grunting when you smile and wrap your lips around it.
Then you kiss your way to the other one. repeating the actions sloppily as he keeps you rocking tightly over him.
“You're fuckin’ filthy,” he murmurs when you pull back to grin at him, his face flushed darker red than before.
“I just love you,” you sigh, leaning in and pecking a kiss to his lips.
“I love you too,” he says, “You gonna come for me, sweetheart?”
You nod, grabbing his shoulders as he keeps you rocking over him, “Yeah,” you whisper, your breathing shaky as your body starts to tremble.
Your clit is throbbing, each drag of it over his cock making you gasp and sigh with pleasure as your orgasm draws closer.
“Jake…”
“I know,” he moves you over him quicker, nodding when you start to roll your hips in tandem with his guidance, “That's it, baby, just like that. You can do it.”
You let out a weak sob, your upper half collapsing against him as your orgasm crashes through you. You bite down into the muscle of his chest, muffled cries escaping you as he works you over him. Each roll of your hips draws out your orgasm, making your body twitch and tremble as it starts to slowly fade away.
You melt into him, taking just a moment to recover as he slows you to a stop. His hands glide along your heated skin, pressing kisses to your hair as your chest heaves against him.
“Fuck,” you whine, your voice rough, as you push yourself back up.
Jake watches you with a lazy, half-lidded smile, brushing your hair away from your face, “You good?”
You wrap your hand around his cock again, slowly stroking up and down before you position it at your slick, greedy entrance.
“That's it, baby,” he murmurs, letting you do it yourself, but still encouraging you as you ease down on the top of him.
Your mouth falls open the second the thick, plush head slips inside, stretching your pulsing walls as you greedily take him in. You don't stop until you have to, your backside pressed snug against his thighs, his length completely nestled inside your wet heat.
“Fuck, Jake,” you whine, your hands gripping tightly at his shoulders.
He wraps his arms around your waist, holding you tightly to him, “You feel so good,” he presses a kiss to your cheek, “S'this what you needed all night? Needed me inside, filling you up just right?”
You nod as he grins, not cocky like he usually is, but a little lovestruck and in awe, “Needed it all fucking night, baby,” you breathe, lifting your hips up and humming when it sends the head of his cock gliding directly over the soft, sensitive bump inside of you.
You lower back over him just to feel that again, your bottom lip snagged between your teeth as you repeat the entire movement.
“Take what you need, sweet girl,” he murmurs, “I've got you.”
You whine, his words stirring up something heated and primal inside of you as you grab his hair with one hand, your other hand moving to his jaw as you start to move up and down in a set rhythm.
You struggle to keep your eyes completely open, it feels too good, but you're desperate to see his face. He takes your breath away from the sight alone. His eyes hooded, jaw slack as he watches you move on top of him, his eyebrows pinched together in pleasure.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” your voice is choppy, each movement making your backside hit against his thighs with a dull, wet sound, your breasts bouncing in tandem with your body.
“So do you,” he murmurs, his hands wandering from your hips up to your chest, grabbing your breasts and squeezing tightly, groaning at the sob you let out. “You're so fuckin’ pretty, baby, look at you go…”
“My legs hurt,” you admit, still moving up and down despite the burn in your thighs.
He grins, “Want some help?”
You nod, slowing to a stop as he wraps his arms around you, his hands grabbing your backside mercilessly. He moves closer to the edge of the bed, and you cling onto him as you frown over your shoulder at the floor, “Don't let me fall.”
He huffs a laugh, “I'm not gonna let you fall, Y/n, I've got you.”
You nod, burying your face into his neck as he starts to move you up and down, his hips rocking up to meet you on every thrust.
“Fuck,” you sigh, “This feels so much better when you do it…”
He hums, “You're fuckin’ spoiled rotten, aren't you, baby?”
You can't help but smile as you start to trail little kisses along his skin yet again, “Yeah,” you agree mindlessly.
You are spoiled. Jake's always taking care of you, no matter the circumstances. Not just sexually, not only like this, but in every way possible. Tomorrow you know he'll be nursing you through a hangover, all soft words and gentle touches, making sure you eat, keeping you hydrated.
He loves you.
And right now, that makes you really emotional.
And you can't help but let out a weak sob as the emotions overtake you.
He stops immediately, pulling you back with a soft, “Hey,” as he cradles your face in his palms, “What's wrong, honey?”
You shake your head, tears blurring your vision as you sniffle, “I just love you. You're so good to me, Jake,” you breath in shakily, wiping at your eyes as he frowns at you.
“Y/n…”
“M'okay,” you tell him, “I just love you a lot and you make me really happy.”
He blinks, “You're— Happy?”
You nod, pouting as he brushes a tear away with his thumb. “I just… thought about how much we love each other… and it makes me really happy,” you tell him around shaky inhales and teary sighs.
He grins hesitantly, “Baby,” his voice is gentle, too gentle for your emotions, “We can stop if you—”
“I don't wanna stop,” you say quickly, “I just wanna love you, and I can't even fuck you right because I'm dizzy and my thighs hurt.”
“I don't mind helping,” he assures you, “You know that, honey.”
“I know,” your shoulders slump. The tears are drying, but you're still emotional about your love for him, “I started it though.”
He huffs a laugh. “We can finish it together, how's that sound?”
And you know it's the alcohol that's making your moods bounce all over the place, because as soon as he says that, you're overwhelmed now with an aggressive need to fuck him until you're both completely spent.
You shove him back against the bed, placing your hands at his shoulders as he stares up at you in shock, “Y/n—”
“Shut up,” you breathe, resituating on your knees so you can have better leverage to fuck him.
His face flushes pink again, but his hands move to your hips. You lift up, letting out a content moan as you ease back down.
You repeat the motion, before you start up a steady rhythm, the sounds making your eyes roll back in your head. Your backside hits his thighs with sound smacks, mixing with the wet noises of your cunt taking him in deep.
You start to rock your hips with each upward movement, gasping at the angle of his cock inside of you.
“Fuck, Jake,” you whine, your hands moving, one just at his throat, the other at his ribcage as his eyes darken.
“Do it,” he murmurs, nodding encouragingly as you hesitate for just a second. And then you tighten your hold on his throat, just enough to make his breath hitch before he groans in pleasure, “Fuck—”
“Touch me,” you plead, your clit throbbing as it begs for his attention, "Help me, baby, I'm so close—”
His hand is there before you ever even finished your plea, his fingers dextrously rubbing over you as his other hand moves to the one you have at your throat.
You think for a second he's going to pull your hand away, but he tightens your grip.
And that's what undoes you completely. You cry out, your grip tightening as your upper half collapses into him, your body convulsing on top of his as he takes over, fucking you through it perfectly.
Pleasure explodes through you, your walls pulsing and rhythmically squeezing his throbbing length.
“That's it,” he grits out, “Fuck, baby, that's a good girl— So fuckin’ pretty— Oh, God, fuckin’ ook at you.”
It only takes a few more thrusts before he curses loudly, his hand still over yours at his throat as his hips still for a beat, before he comes, letting out the prettiest sound you think you've ever heard from him.
You keep your hips moving slowly, rocking over him as you try your damnedest to fuck him through his own release, before you both slow to a stop.
You let out a weak sound as you slip your hand from his throat to his chest, “Fuck.”
He huffs a breathy laugh, his chest rising and falling rapidly as you roll off of him, laying beside him, completely spent.
Your skin is sweat-slick, sticky where it meets his, and it's really hot in there, but you couldn't care less as he turns to his side, trailing his fingers up your side, “You alright, baby?” He asks gently.
You nod, your eyes falling shut, “M'great.”
He leans in, pressing a kiss to your hair, “C'mon, I gotta get you ready for bed, sweet girl.”
You whine as he gets up, but you make no effort to move.
Finally, you're cleaned up, adorned in one of his shirts, and tucked beneath the blankets as he slips in beside you.
You cuddle into him, closing your eyes because the room is still spinning just a little bit, “Didn't know you liked to be choked,” you say, half asleep.
He laughs, pulling you closer into him. “Me neither.”
“I really did miss you tonight,” you whisper.
“I missed you too, baby,” he murmurs, leaving a small kiss at your temple, “I'm glad you're home.”
“I lost my shoe,” you say suddenly, frowning up at him.
“We'll look for it tomorrow, sweet girl, just get some sleep, okay?” He tries to ease you back down to him, mentally, not physically— because you wouldn't dare move while he's this close and warm and smelling so good.
“Okay,” you sigh. “What if we can't find it?”
“I'll get you a new pair,” he says without a second thought.
“You wonder why I'm spoiled,” you grumble, “It's your fault.”
You feel him grin against your skin, “I know it is.”
warnings: drunk Jake, dorkass Jake, SMUT 18+!, drunk sex, oral sex (f. rec), unprotected sex, dirty talk, “keep me in there tonight”, lemme know if I missed any!
a/n: I was trying to write another fic and got the idea for this one after the tiktok GVF posted, so I hope yall enjoy this until I can get to some more of the requests!
Masterlist
You wake to a loud noise. A clatter that makes you shoot up in a half-asleep panic.
Your first initial thought is that you're about to be robbed. Your second, less sleep-filled thought is that your boyfriend is finally home from the bar.
You hear a loud curse, but it's not from inside the house— He's still outside.
You sigh.
Knowing him, he's either lost his keys again or still hasn't managed to get the key into the lock. It's the same cycle every time he drinks. And when you're drunk alongside him, it takes the two of you far too long to piece your brains together and get the door open.
You toss back your blankets, already making your way to the front door, eager to see your lover.
You pull open the door with a frown, immediately softening when you see Jake near the edge of the porch, tossing your watering can to the side without a care, “I watered your plants.”
“I—” You glance at the watering can, your frown deepening when you see it's landed on its side under the porch swing, “Be careful with that—”
He hums, making his way up the steps and stopping right in the doorway as he squares his shoulders, “Daddy's home. M'here to take care of everything.”
He's drunk. Eyes glassy, cheeks a pretty pink, and his skin lightly shining from sweat. His hair is messy, sticking up in places, but he looks just as beautiful as ever.
“Did you just now get home?” You ask with a laugh when he pushes you back gently, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him.
“I wanna touch you inappropriately,” he says, very matter-of-fact, before he holds up his hand at the side of his mouth as if he's telling you a secret as he whispers, “In all the places I'm not supposed to.”
“God,” you breathe, grinning at him, “You're really drunk, aren't you?”
“My level of sobriety has nothing to do with wanting my girl,” he frowns, “I always wanna touch you.”
“I saw you just this morning,” you say softly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders when he grabs your waist and pulls you to him.
“I'm insatiable,” he says, one of his hands wandering down to your thigh, “Like a wild animal— An untamed beast.”
“And a total fucking dork,” you add, your hands sliding up and cupping his face as you smile warmly at him.
He squints in offense, before he rakes his eyes over you, “You smell good,” he murmurs as he leans in, his nose at your throat, taking a deep breath. He lets out a loud sound of annoyance on his exhale, “I wanna be inside you.”
You pull back, placing your hands at his chest, “You're drunk, honey—”
“Shut up and sit on my face,” he murmurs, tugging you right back to him, “Will you do that for me? Let me have a taste? Just a little bit— I'll be so good to you, baby.”
Your cheeks burn hot, your eyes wide, “I don't… wanna suffocate you…”
He groans, his eyebrows tilting up, “Fuck, that's my life's dream, sweet girl.”
“Maybe we should go to bed,” you suggest, your hands settling over his, holding them still and stopping them from where they were dragging over you and grabbing at random.
“You hate me,” he pouts.
“I do not. I love you to bits, Jakey,” you say around a giggle, “But it's three in the morning.”
“If we go into that bedroom, I'm making you come in my mouth,” he warns.
You let out a breath, “No.”
His jaw drops when you push back, but this time he doesn't yank you back to him. It takes everything in you not to laugh at him.
You step towards the hallway, “It's late, I have a busy day tomorrow. Just come to bed.”
“Fine,” he mutters, “But I don't like it.”
“I know,” you murmur sympathetically as he trudges along behind you.
Getting him undressed is a nightmare. He grumbles the entire time, complaining about your shared bedroom being hot, pouting when you tell him he's sweaty.
You're not sure how long it takes, but finally, you're both laying in bed, you beneath the blankets and Jake sprawled out over them.
“My mouth's dry,” he whispers after you'd thought he'd started to doze off.
“Do you want some water?” You ask, peeking at him over your shoulder.
“No,” he says, “I want you.”
“Stupid,” you mutter, grinning wide as you turn back onto your side.
He sighs loudly, and you feel the bed dip as he moves. He's still again only for a second, before you're jostled as he moves yet again.
“Jake.”
“I'm trying to get comfortable,” he defends.
You hum, letting your eyes fall shut again. Then you feel the bed dip behind you, before you feel his hair tickling your cheek. You open your eyes to find him leaning over you, frowning at you.
“What are you doing?” You ask, turning onto your back as he hovers over you.
“I'm just looking at you,” he murmurs, “You're pretty.”
“That's creepy,” you laugh despite yourself, “Don't do that.”
But he keeps looking at you, his lips turning up just a little bit, “I don't care if it's creepy. I like to look at you.”
“Watching me sleep is a bit much,” you say, reaching up and tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear.
“Mm, but you're not asleep,” he tilts his head, pressing a kiss to your wrist beside his face, “Which leads me to my next question.”
“And what might that be?” You ask, trailing your fingers down his jaw.
“What if,” he starts, his hand already snaking beneath the blankets, “I make you come so hard you fall asleep?”
You let out a soft sigh, your thighs subconsciously falling apart as his fingers ghost against the edge of your panties, “You really are insatiable.”
“You don't have to do anything,” he leans in, pressing his lips against your cheek, “Just lay there and let me lick into that sweet cunt.”
You trail your hand down to his hips, brushing your fingers just barely against where he's already hard and straining against his underwear, “What if I want this?”
“Think you can come twice for me?” He asks, already slipping his hand in your panties, petting gently just centimeters away from your clit, “Once in my mouth and another around my cock?”
You let out a dreamy sigh, “I think I can manage that.”
“Yeah,” he agrees, his hand disappearing from your panties and pulling the blankets away from you, “Too tired, my ass,” he mutters, moving down and grabbing your thighs, splitting them apart for him to fit in between, “You're just mean.”
“M'not mean,” you say weakly as he tugs your panties down, “I am tired.”
“Mm, I know,” he says, “Poor baby's got a busy day tomorrow and here she is in the middle of the night with her pretty thighs spread for me.”
“Jake,” you nudge him with your foot, your cheeks burning.
He groans as he pushes your legs impossibly wider, taking a moment to stare between them, “You're fuckin’ soaked, baby,” he uses his fingers to spread your folds apart, his eyes heavy as he just stares. “I can't let my sweet girl go to sleep all wet and needy, now, can I?”
“No,” you sigh, your fingers twisting into the sheets beside you, eager for his mouth.
“No,” he repeats, dragging a single finger from your slick entrance up to your clit, circling the bud before he pulls it away completely.
Before you can plead, he leans in, and places a kiss directly to your clit, then another, and another, each one slower and wetter than before.
“Fuck,” he groans, flattening his tongue at your entrance and teasing it by almost pushing inside, before he licks up to your clit.
You gasp when he wraps his lips around it, lulling his tongue with a low hum, before he pulls back to look at your most intimate area.
He grabs your inner thighs, fingers digging in as he goes back in with a low growl, kissing and sucking your clit all at once. Your mouth falls open, your hands tightening in the sheets as he makes out with your cunt.
You're amazed every time he does this— How attentive he is, how into it and passionate he is.
You pull a hand away from the sheets, tangling your fingers into his hair as you let out a soft sound. He hums in response, his eyes finding yours as he smirks against your slick skin.
Your hips rock up into his mouth, gasping a quiet, drawn out, “Nooo,” when he pulls back, “Jake— Please…”
“Shh,” he uses his thumbs to spread you open again, “I'll be right back, babydoll, let me just look at you.”
“I want your mouth,” you sigh, knowing that your little pleas and desperate words always make him weak.
And sure enough, he's back within seconds. Your eyes roll back as he starts to flick his tongue over your clit. That low fire in the pit of your tummy that he's been steadily stoking all night burns hot now, making your thighs tremble and your body tighten as your orgasm draws closer.
“I'm so close,” you gasp, now freely rocking your hips as you tighten your hold in his hair.
“Then fuckin’ come for me,” he says it like a demand, no room for arguing— not that you would at this point.
It smacks into you before you really even fathom that he'd just commanded an orgasm out of your body. Your thighs tighten around his head, your back arching off the bed as you helplessly cry out into the black of the night.
He hums and groans against you, not letting up even a bit until you collapse back against the mattress, panting and whimpering as you try to push his head away.
He leaves one final kiss to your throbbing clit before he pushes himself up, dragging your shirt up your body as he climbs over you.
He leans in, running his tongue over your nipple before he draws it into his mouth and sucks at it. Your legs twitch around him when he lets go with a sound pop, before he does the same thing to your other breast.
Your body is still thrumming intensely, your chest is rising and falling as you try to catch your breath, your eyes are shut as you hear him move.
They pop wide open when you feel the hot, plush head of his cock teasing over your pulsing cunt.
“I want it,” you breathe, letting your thighs fall wide open once again.
“It's yours,” he says lowly, his eyes heavy as he watches himself move over your wet slit.
“Then give it to me,” you try to demand it, but it comes out weak and needy, desperate.
He hums, the corner of his mouth twitching upward, “Oh, she thinks she's in charge,” he mutters to himself.
You whine, wrapping your thighs around his hips, trying to angle them enough for him to slip inside.
Instead of letting you struggle for much longer, he grabs your hips, pulling them up just right and easing into you in one slow, easy push of his own hips.
Your eyes roll shut as you let out a content sigh, hyperaware of every thick inch of him inside of you.
He leans over you, his hands on either side of your head, gripping the pillow tight as he lets out a strained hum.
“Fuck, Jake,” you sigh, your eyes fluttering open.
“Close your eyes,” he murmurs, lifting his hand to cover your eyes as he settles onto his forearms.
“Why?” You ask, pouting at him even though you can't see him.
He shushes you sweetly, pressing his lips to your cheek, “Just lay there, baby— Let me fuck you to sleep.”
You whine, biting your bottom lip as he pushes your hair back with the hand that was covering your eyes, but you keep your eyes shut as he starts to rock his hips.
“Fuck,” he whispers beneath his breath, so quiet you almost didn't hear it.
His cock grinds into you in slow, rhythmic rolls, every ridge and curve of it sliding along your walls perfectly.
“You feel so good,” you breathe, your jaw falling slack as he leans into you, more of his weight pressing you into the mattress.
You wrap your arms around his neck, eagerly pulling him to you to kiss him. His hand slides down to your hip, holding you tightly as he works his lips against yours, “My sweet girl,” he murmurs between kisses, “I love you.”
“I love you,” you whine it directly into his mouth, lifting your legs higher up, wrapping them around him and holding tightly as he starts to move quicker and harder.
Each thrust sends the head gliding directly and perfectly against that sensitive, spongy bump inside of you that makes you see stars. His pelvic bone is grinding against your clit, rubbing in a way that could send you over the edge rather quickly.
“Fuck, I love your cock,” you gasp when you feel the blunt, warm head brushing against your cervix. “You feel so fucking good.”
He presses his forehead to your temple, and you can feel his lips turned up in a grin, “Listen to you,” he murmurs, “Is that all you can say, baby? Hm? Just telling me how good it feels?”
“Yeah,” you agree mindlessly, your eyes quickly opening when he starts to fuck into you with more force than you expected.
“Ah, ah, ah,” he stills completely, his hand covering your eyes again, “Keep ‘em fucking closed, Y/n.”
You whine his name, and he slides his hand from your eyes to your mouth, covering it completely as he peppers tiny kisses over your cheeks.
He starts fucking into you again, “You gotta listen to me, baby,” he chides softly, his hips slamming into you in contrastingly harsh thrusts, “Just listen to me, be a good girl for me, I know you can do it.”
You let out a weak uh-huh that makes him throb inside of you, and that almost makes you come undone completely.
“I'm gonna come,” you warn him, grabbing tightly onto him, your nails digging in as his hand moves from your mouth to your clit, where he starts rubbing tight, quick circles over the swollen bud.
“Fuckin’ do it,” he breathes, “Come all over my cock, baby, let me feel every fuckin’ bit of it.”
It swells inside you, before it explodes through you like a dam breaking, the waters bursting forth and wrecking everything in sight. Your vision goes white as your thighs clamp around his hips, your breath frozen in your lungs as stars shoot wildly behind your eyelids.
You sob, your nails dragging down his back as he grunts and moans out filthy praise.
“Fuck, that's it, Y/n— Just like that, honey, c'mon,” he lets out a choked sound, “Fuck—”
His own release washes over him with a gasp of your name. His hold is gentle and harsh and loving and possessive all at once, and it all draws out your orgasm as he fucks you both through your respective endings.
You keep your eyes shut, but now it's from a content exhaustion that makes your entire body heavy.
“Fuck,” you sigh, your chest heaving in tandem with his.
“Yeah,” he breathes, pulling back as he slips out of you with a quiet hiss.
“I know we should clean up,” you start, peeking one eye open to find him already staring at you with a half-drunken, lovestruck expression, “But I'm so fuckin’ tired.”
“No,” he says lowly, glancing down between your thighs, “I want you to keep me in there tonight.”
You nod, whispering a soft, “Okay,” as he moves to lay down beside you.
You both lay in the quiet for a moment, enjoying the afterglow, the warm satisfaction lulling you nearly to sleep.
Then he pats your thigh and says, "The beast has been tamed," he pauses, "...For now."
Warnings: Angst, gore, smut, historical references that might not be accurate, vampires being vampires. I never really know how much or what to actually include here, so please just proceed with your own judgment. And if you come across something that you think deserves to be noted here, please let me know!
Summary: a brief look at Josh’s life from Because The Night
Josh POV
It’s so cold. Cold and wet. The rain dancing across my face, each drop stinging my flesh as if to mock the trembling that already grips me. I’m frozen to the core of myself. Shaking, hollow, and barely tethered to the world. I try to scream, to call for help, but no sound escapes beyond a broken gurgle.
The last thing I remember is walking with Narin, our usual shortcut through the park, the one that always felt like ours alone. We were talking about the future, about what it might hold. I had mentioned children, one day, perhaps. The way her face shifted so quickly, as if trying to hide the flash of disgust and disdain, cut deeper than I could admit.
She said she wanted to travel, to drift freely through the world, unanchored by the weight of a family. I didn’t argue. I only said that I couldn’t leave my brothers behind. Something in her changed then, as if a wire had been pulled too tight and finally snapped. The conversation fell into silence, and that silence grew heavy. So heavy it seemed to press against my chest. I remember walking beside her, uncertain of what to say, feeling the distance stretch wider with every step.
Narin turned to me and smiled, a slow, deliberate curve of her lips that did not quite reach her eyes.
“My precious pet, Joshua,” she murmured. “You know my love for you knows no bounds. But I cannot be weighted down by things that no longer hold necessity for me. Children are of no interest. The chains and bonds of family and the obligation of that are burdens I will not carry. You must understand that. I have no need for them.”
She stepped closer, her voice softening into something almost tender. “But I do wish to keep what is mine. And you, my pet, are mine.”
Her words caught me off guard. My thoughts splintered, reeling at the notion that someone could speak so easily of love yet deny the very roots from which it grows. How could anyone not long for the warmth of family, the simple grace of nurturing life?
“I am not your property, Narin,” I said, forcing calm into a voice that trembled beneath the weight of disbelief. My mind churned, refusing to make sense of what I was hearing. This was not the woman I thought I’d come to know. The one whose laughter had once sounded as sweet as rain falling through the trees.
I must have worn my confusion plainly upon my face, for her trill of laughter rang out in response, bright and cruel, echoing in my ears. My vision sharpened, catching the glimmer of her form as she twirled and spun, lost in a dance known only to her. The sound of her laughter seemed to multiply, ricocheting off the darkness until it came from everywhere at once.
Then suddenly, she was gone, the air became still and before I could draw breath, a searing pain tore through my neck. White-hot and merciless. The kind of pain worthy of myth, so profound it seemed to reverberate through my bones and breath alike. Fear tore through me, swift and absolute, just as another blaze of agony split across my shoulder. It felt as though the very skin and muscle were being flayed from the bone. The rich, metallic scent of blood filled the air, thick and heady dancing at the edges of my pain until it was all I could taste, all I could breathe.
For a fleeting moment, my mind grasped at reason, at memory. At the thought of the men who had met their end in such a similar way. Worry for Jacob and of course for Narin flickered within me, the last ember keeping my heart from collapsing into despair. I searched the darkness for her, praying she had escaped. But when my gaze found hers, hope died on my tongue.
Her eyes met mine, wild and unrecognizable as she sank her teeth into the flesh of my abdomen, her nails raking down my thighs and shredding the muscles beneath her touch. I could feel the warmth of my own blood spilling across my skin as deep gouges marked every inch of me. By the time she stopped, I was scarcely whole. Flesh torn from my shoulders and left arm, strips of it hanging in tatters from my throat.
To this day, I do not know what stayed her hand, what flicker of restraint, if any, held her back from ending me completely. My vision dimmed, the world collapsing inward as the darkness drew me under.
When awareness returned, it was to the sting of light pressing against my eyelids. I tried to open my eyes, but the brightness was too much. I closed them again, waiting for the world to soften. When I finally dared to look, my gaze met a blurred outline, a face carved with impossible precision, and eyes the color of ice, so piercing they seemed to look straight through me.
Time passed but how much, I couldn’t say. Some of my wounds had mended almost completely, and with them I’d begun to adjust to what now passed for life. Lucio had been my guide through it all, patient and unwavering as he helped me grasp the impossible. That I was both living and dead.
It was a strange existence. Foreign, hollow, and heavy with loss. The realization that I could no longer feel the sun upon my skin was a quiet devastation, but even that paled beside the truth that I no longer had Jake. I didn’t know if he still lived, nor could he know of me. The distance between us felt unnatural, like the world had split in two and I’d been left behind. We had been inseparable since birth, two halves of the same whole and now, half of me was simply… gone.
Lucio had been there when my eyes first opened after death. He had fed me, cared for me, guided me through those first, terrible hours. His were the first eyes I saw in that new darkness. Icy blue, set against a complexion dark as the earth and they became the anchor I clung to while the hunger tore through me. I remember the way he steadied me, lifting me upright, the clean slice of his blade across his arm, and the impossible kindness in the act that followed. I hadn’t known what to do, but Lucio taught me, gently, as one might teach an infant to feed.
Slowly, my strength returned. And with strength came restlessness. My thoughts began to outrun my steps, filled with questions that clawed at me in the quiet hours. Would I ever see Jake again? Or Sam? Was I destined to remain hidden away like some creature of myth, condemned to move only beneath the veil of night?
I must have worn on Lucio’s patience with my endless questions, but he never let it show. Through every outburst, every surge of anger I could not yet control, he remained steady. If I could still call anyone family, it was him. Though even that truth could never fill the void of my brother Jake.
In time, I began to feel the slow pull of madness at the edges of my mind. Lucio’s vast library had been placed entirely at my disposal, and though I made good use of it, there is only so much solace a student of cinema can find in the printed word. The books offered distraction, nothing more. Temporary escapes into other worlds while my thoughts endlessly circled back to Jake and the question that haunted me. What had become of him?
I asked Lucio often if I might go back and search for my brother. He never refused me, yet never granted permission either. His answer was always the same, quiet and evasive: “I will find a way for you.”
It became his mantra, his promise, and his defense. No matter what I asked of him, no matter the need or whim, his reply was always that he would find a way. And, in truth, he always did. Lucio took pride in his ability to provide, to ensure that nothing I desired went unmet. Nothing, save for one thing. Jake. For that, there were no answers, only the hollow ache of uncertainty.
At last, my persistence wore him down. He reached out to Sal for word of my brother, and when the news came, it was not what I had hoped. The moment Lucio entered the room, I knew. His expression was heavy with sorrow, his voice breaking as he spoke the words that shattered what remained of me.
Jake was gone.
Narin had taken him from this world.
“Joshua, I am so sorry,” Lucio said, kneeling before me, his composure unraveling. “If not for the need to convince Narin you were gone, you could have been there for him. This is my fault. I have damned you to walk this earth until the end of time for my own desires, and because of me, you have suffered this loss.”
“Don’t,” I said softly, reaching to lift his face, to meet the ice of his eyes. “Don’t say that, Lucio. You’ve done everything you could to give me this life, and for that, I thank you.” My voice broke beneath the weight of it all. He was gone. My brother Jacob was gone. Half of me had been stripped from existence, and the hollow that remained echoed with grief so sharp it felt as though it might tear me apart.
In those days that followed, I clung to Lucio out of sheer necessity. He became the tether that kept me from slipping entirely into the abyss. Time moved forward, indifferent, while I dragged behind. Sinking deeper into the cold mire of sorrow. Lucio tried endlessly to draw me out, to lift me from the shadows that clung to me.
Months passed in that fog of mourning before he finally suggested we travel. That a change of place, a breath of air beyond these walls, might begin to ease the ache. I resisted at first, unwilling to leave the sanctuary of my grief. But Lucio could be persuasive when he wished to be. And so, against my better judgment, I agreed even though he would not tell me where we were going.
Rossinière, Switzerland, was home to Lucio’s family chalet, where we were to stay for an extended time. The place was extraordinary - more akin to a kingdom than a residence. Had it been built of stone, one might have called it a castle. Instead, it rose from the earth in warm alpine timber, resting upon a foundation of old masonry. Gabled roofs, broad windows, carved balconies, and great exposed beams gave it the kind of presence that seemed older than memory itself. I had never seen a home so grand, so steeped in history and quiet majesty.
Lucio spoke of it with fondness, telling me how one of his ancestors had built it in the mid 1700s, and how it had remained in his family ever since. His voice held the weight of lineage, something I felt deeply, perhaps because I had lost my own.
Lucio told me I could choose whichever room I wished, and so, half in jest, half in defiance of the emptiness within me, I claimed the entire second floor. He laughed at first, until I spread my few belongings across the rooms and made myself comfortable.
The first few days were restless. When Lucio retired to his quarters, I found myself wandering the dim corridors alone, the old wood creaking softly beneath my feet. I didn’t understand at first what I was seeking, but it was him. His presence had become a kind of anchor to me, especially after learning Jake was gone. With Lucio near, I did not feel entirely severed from the world.
In time, that need shifted into something more than closeness. I began to understand that I wanted him not only as a companion, but as something deeper, more binding. There was a connection between us that defied reason or explanation, something neither of us spoke aloud, but both of us felt.
We spent weeks in that chalet without once stepping beyond its walls. Just the two of us, existing in the quiet, as though the world outside had ceased to matter. Neither of us wished to break the fragile peace we had found in each other. Lucio had become my solace, my tether to the world. And somewhere in the silence between us, I began to suspect that my longing was not mine alone.
Lucio was the kind of partner dreams are made of, The kind who placed every need, every desire of mine above his own. No matter the difficulty, he always found a way. He had been there through both of the darkest moments of my existence, the night Narin so brutally tore my life apart, and the day I learned Jake was truly gone.
Never once did he make me feel like a burden. He bore my grief, my rage, my need for solace and did so with that quiet, haunting smile that made him seem at once human and something far beyond.
I often caught myself watching him as he moved, studying the effortless grace of his body, the calm surety of his presence too often, or too long. And I was certain he noticed. The faint, knowing smirk that would ghost across his lips from time to time betrayed as much.
He came to my room that evening, asking if I was ready to hunt. His voice was casual, but my attention was lost to the shape of his mouth. The soft, full curve of his lips as he spoke. I didn’t even realize I had moved closer until my feet brushed against his.
When I looked up, his eyes met mine. Those icy depths that had so often steadied me, this time causing something inside me to unspool. Heat rose through me, deep and undeniable. Slowly, I leaned toward him, and he met me halfway. Our lips met in a feather-light kiss at first, tentative and questioning as though we were both afraid the other might disappear. The kiss deepened, slow and searching, until his hands found my waist and drew me flush against him. My fingers traced the line of his chest, finding the collar of his shirt and tugging him nearer still. He tasted like warm memories.
I broke the kiss only long enough to catch my breath.
“What made you finally give in?” Lucio murmured against my mouth, amusement warm in his voice as he drew back just enough to meet my eyes.
“I didn’t know the feelings were mutual,” I admitted, laughter threading through my breath. “If I had, I might have… hastened things.”
Lucio smiled then, his gaze holding mine with a kind of fierce tenderness.
“Oh, Joshua,” he sighed, and the sound was almost reverent. “My dear, lost soul. I wanted you the moment I saw you.”
His confession stunned me, leaving me momentarily slack-jawed. Lucio only smiled and lifted my chin with a gentle finger.
“Close your mouth, sweet boy,” he said softly, though the words carried heat. “Unless you intend to use it.”
The tension between us thickened, somehow fragile but still electric. Then, wordlessly, Lucio took my hand and led me from the room. The hunger that had once driven us both was forgotten, replaced by something far more consuming.
The air between us tightened, warm and charged. And then Lucio took my hand and guided me toward his bedroom. The hunt could wait.
This hunger could not wait any longer.
The next century passed in a blur of bodies, hunger, and devotion. Lucio and I spent those hundred years quite literally fucking our way across Europe, pausing only to hunt when we needed, to feed when the appetite demanded, and to savor the world in every small, fleeting moment it offered us. A soft, breathless laugh escaped Lucio when he realized I had ceased feeding altogether.
He knelt upon the forest floor, his shirt discarded somewhere in the darkness, warm crimson tracing slow paths down the center of his chest. Fingers flexing as he grasped the body beneath him while his forearms strained, and biceps tightened.
Moonlight filtered through the canopy above, catching upon the broad line of his shoulders and the powerful curve of his back each time he lowered himself to feed. I should have looked away.
Instead, I found myself unable to force my eyes away from his form.
The warmth of my own meal had long since faded against my lap, forgotten entirely as my attention drifted helplessly toward him. There was something almost unfair in the sight of him, something predatory and beautiful all at once. Every movement seemed deliberate, every flex of muscle possessing a quiet, devastating grace.
Lucio paused. Slowly, those icy blue eyes lifted to meet mine as a knowing smile, wicked and blood covered, curved his lips.
"Joshua," he murmured, amusement threading through his voice. "Are you quite finished pretending to feed?"
Heat rose unbidden to my face.
"I was distracted."
His laughter deepened, low and warm enough to send a shiver through me as his biceps remained full and tense under my watchful eyes. He sat back, his smirk returning in a way that could only be described as boastful.
"By what, I wonder?"
I opened my mouth to answer, only to find I possessed none. The smile upon his lips widened. Before I could fathom another thought, he was before me.
My back met the rough bark of a nearby tree, the force gentle only because it was Lucio. His body pressed close, surrounding me entirely, one arm braced beside my head while his mouth drifted to my throat.
"You wished to stare," he whispered, his lips brushing my skin. "Then stare."
His words alone nearly undid me.
My fingers found his hair instinctively, the strands soft beneath trembling hands as my head tipped back against the tree. I could feel his laughter against my throat. It was a terrible thing, how easily he unraveled me.
"Lucio..." I breathed.
He hummed softly in response, the sound vibrating through me in a way that seemed to still the entire world as he rutted his hips against my own. His hand trailed down from my neck to my waist, palm flattening low on my stomach, “Stay.”
“It would seem that I am incapable.”
“Hmm,” he teased with a slow lick from my collarbone to my ear, “I do believe you can.”
My thighs quivered under my own weight as I tried to steady myself against the tree.
Lucio enjoyed his ability to unnerve me, I could tell by the way he smiled against me, by the way his fingers dug into my skin, by the way he kept making these low, pleased sounds that blurred into my skin more than words. “Mmm. Is this where you desire my attention?” he asked, mouth still against me as he slid his hand around my cock.
I couldn’t gather the words, instead nodding against him.
His other hand squeezed roughly against my hip, “Words.”
“Yes.”
He kissed my throat, soft enough to be cruel, “Yes, what?”
I tried to glare down at him, but his fangs sank into my shoulder before I could form anything coherent, tongue dragging slow and flat, and the glare dissolved somewhere between pathetic and desperate, “Yes, there. That is where I desire your attention”
His eyes flicked up, “Good boy.”
My whole body clenched, and he felt it, “Oh?” his voice was rough now, a little wrecked around the edges, "You enjoy that?”
“Hush.”
He laughed against me, nearly causing my end from that alone.
“You're awfully mean,” he murmured, “For someone who was looking at me like he wanted me to bite them.”
“I did no such thing.”
“You did,” He shifted, letting go of my leaking cock. “You were perched there, not even pretending to partake of your meal with your eyes never straying from me, but your hardness straining against your trousers told me all I needed to know.”
My face burned hot, “Lucio.”
“What?” He kissed my neck open-mouthed, “You thought I would not notice?”
My fingers grabbed into his hair before tightening, “Please.”
That did something to him. His mouth stopped teasing at my neck as he drew away. His hands slid down to my trousers again as he guided them down my legs before growling at me to remove them.
Heat swirled through my abdomen as I listened to his command. I grabbed at his trousers, pulling until the buttons gave way. Revealing his hard cock, hot and heavy as it seemed to spring to life before me.
Reaching for him, I trailed my fingers up his leg until I wrapped one hand around his length, and cupped his balls with my other. The sound that tore out of him nearly sent me into a feral fit. I brought his leaking tip to my mouth as I licked up the underside of him, swirling my tongue around the head before taking him in my mouth completely.
I hollowed out my cheeks and sucked my way back up his shaft, all the while never taking my eyes away from his. The next lick was firmer but slower, more to savor him. He needed more though as his hands came to rest on the back of my head and directed me back down. I swallowed when he hit the back of my throat, and managed to bring my nose to his pubic bone. I fought hard against the gag in my throat as I rolled my eyes up to meet his.
This eye contact mixed with the second swallow must have really driven him to the brink of insanity as he grabbed my head and began to thrust into my mouth. I tried to keep my throat as relaxed as possible, but lost the battle within as my gag erupted. Lucio let out a growl that should have scared me, but instead had quite the opposite effect as he withdrew himself from my mouth.
My body drew in an unneeded breath that broke into a soft, useless sound, “Luc.”
“Mhm?”
“I desire more of you.”
He groaned as if the words hurt him. He hooked his arms underneath my thighs, hands grasping at the tree behind me as he lifted me up, pressing my back further into the tree. Slowly, he pushed himself between my legs as he held me pinned there with his hips.
His hands slid down to the backs of my knees as he pushed them up to rest against my chest with a devilish smirk on his lips. I was lost as to what he intended, but the look in his eyes had me intrigued.
“Do you trust me?” he murmured as he began lowering himself to kneel before me. My confusion worn very blatantly on my face as he looked upon me. “You’ll like it, I know you will,” he all but whispered as he continued to sink lower.
The unmistakable feeling of his lips, pressing soft and wet kisses down the back of my thigh registered before his tongue darted out to drag across my ass. My muscles seized of their own accord. The feeling was so foreign, but so good I wasn’t sure how to respond. Surely, Lucio wouldn’t dare.
But dare he did, “Relax for me Joshua, I need you to relax,” he said, with a smirk that was evident in his voice. I tried to relax as he moved his hands down to cup my ass cheeks, giving them a firm squeeze for good measure.
As he continued to massage the muscle there, I began to relax as well as I could pinned up against a tree. It wasn’t long before I felt his tongue brush against my hole, sending shockwaves throughout my body. The gasp and shudder that followed tore through me as if I had been shot.
The resounding pleasure of this foreign act buzzed through my cock and brain the same. A small gasp of air and moan came quickly after.
“Oh, you like that?” Lucio dared to ask as I tried to keep my mind from spiraling.
“Fuck,” was all I could manage to say as he licked at me again and again before pushing his tongue inside of me as he snaked his hand to my mouth. Swirling his pointer and middle finger against my tongue to gather as much spit as possible before withdrawing.
It felt like a flash but somehow an eternity before I felt his finger begin to stroke along my hole, rubbing soothing circles before applying a slight pressure. He licked at me once more before spitting directly on me, and pushing his index finger inside.
The stretch was glorious, and while it was something I was used to at this point, it still touched briefly on a pain that blossomed much deeper into a burning pleasure.
I looked down, searching for Lucio’s eyes. I had to bite my lip as I met his line of vision from the pleasure shining from those piercing blue eyes. He looked back down to his hand briefly, pulling out and pressing back in with two fingers slowly, causing my back to arch from the tree.
“Fuck.”
He smiled, but it was not smug this time, it was hungry. Eyes heavy lidded and blown out, like he had started this to tease me and ended up ruining himself instead. “Luc,” I whined, “I need more, I need all of you. Please?”
I could not stop the needy whimper as he slowly pulled his fingers out, and helped me plant my feet back on the ground. My fingers reached behind, grazing his cock as he bent me towards the tree.
As he straightened up, he stroked himself a few times before letting a trail of spit fall from his lips to coat himself. My hand intertwined with his against the tree as he pushed inside me. “Oh-,” He made another sound, almost a growl, and buried himself in me.
His hips worked savagely as he fucked into me, steady and deep, and I clung to his hand and the tree like it was the only thing keeping me anchored. My knees grew weaker with every thrust from him, until finally I couldn’t take it. I pushed back against him and forced us to stand as I pulled away from him.
He watched me with a look of uncertainty as I knelt to the ground, laying myself out in front of him. When the realization struck him as to what I was doing, he began to move with fervor, hooking my knees into his elbows as he knelt over me, “Couldn’t take it?” he questioned with that cocky grin again.
“No, I wanted to watch your face as you ruin me,” I snarked back, earning the red that flashed across his cheeks as I reached out to smooth my thumb along his jaw before trailing down to rest on his arm as he entered me again. His biceps flexed under my hand with every movement, hot and solid and so absurdly strong that my brain, already useless, managed only one thought.
Bite.
I did, bringing my mouth against the thick column of his neck, as my teeth sank in lightly because I could not help myself. Lucio froze. For half a second everything stopped, then he pulled back just enough to look at me.
His mouth was still covered with the faint traces of blood from his earlier feast. His eyes were dark enough to be dangerous, “did you just bite me?”
“Perhaps.”
He stared at me briefly, before he laughed, low and disbelieving. The sound made your stomach drop, “You are unbelievable.”
“You said I wanted to.”
“I was joking.”
“I wasn’t.”
Something changed in his face to pure lust and heat. His fingers gripped harder into my muscle as my mouth fell open, “You wanna bite?” he said, voice low, “Fine. Bite.”
“Luc-”
He brought his neck closer to my mouth and lowered his head again, “go on.” My thighs trembled against his arms as he thrust, “bite me while I make you come.” The sound that left me was embarrassing. Lucio hummed as if he liked it and thrust again.
I bit him again, harder this time.
His groan vibrated straight through my body, “Oh my god.” I snaked my hand down to my leaking cock. Lucio noticed, looking down to watch. As I began to stroke myself he pursed his lips and made a show of spitting on me.
“Mm?” he hummed, still working his hips, “that good?”
“Yes.”
“Yeah?”
“Fu- Lucio.”
One hand still locked on his arm, mouth pressed to his throat, teeth scraping every time he hit that place inside me that made the world tilt. He kept his pace brutal and perfect, until my hips started to buck.
I was babbling now. No words, just little sounds and broken incoherent pieces.
“Luc- yes- there, there, please-”
He pulled back and looked at me, “For me?”
I nodded frantically, but his hips stopped as I nearly sobbed.
“Say it.”
I opened my eyes, as frustrated tears began to well, “For you.”
His face softened for one second, just one. Then his hips began moving again, and I was gone.
My orgasm hit hard, messy ropes of thick cum shooting up my belly and chest, thighs clenching against his arms, teeth scraping his throat as I came with a muffled cry against his skin. Lucio held me through it, arms locked behind my thighs, hips still moving in slow strokes as he rutted against me, chasing his own release. I worked my mouth along his throat, sinking my teeth into his throat one more time as he buried himself inside of me and cried out to the heavens.
Lucio gently helped me straighten my legs out before he crawled up my body like he had all the time in the world. Hair wrecked from my fingers, and faint marks blooming on his throat where my teeth had been.
I had long since ceased understanding what existed between us.
Perhaps it had begun as gratitude. Perhaps necessity. In those early days after my human death, when grief had hollowed me from the inside out, he had been my guide, my protector, my sole tether to a world that no longer felt real. Somewhere amid those endless nights, that dependence had transformed into something infinitely more dangerous.
His forehead rested briefly against mine, "You look at me," he murmured softly, amusement lingering in his voice, "as though I am something extraordinary."
I let out a quiet, incredulous laugh, "Because you are." The words escaped before I could stop them. Lucio stilled, even the forest seemed to hold its breath.
When his eyes lifted to mine once more, something within them had changed. The teasing warmth remained, but beneath it lay something deeper, older, and infinitely more vulnerable.
For a fleeting moment, he looked almost human. His fingers rose slowly, brushing a strand of hair from my face.
"Joshua..."
The way he spoke my name was unbearably gentle. I felt suddenly exposed beneath his gaze, as though he could see every fractured piece of me. Every grief, every fear, every desperate, impossible longing I had tried so hard to bury.
I swallowed, "I know I should not..." My voice faltered. "But when I look at you, I do not feel quite so alone."
The confession settled heavily between us. Lucio's expression softened entirely. A sadness touched his features then, subtle and fleeting. "You have never been alone."
I closed my eyes. How cruel that simple kindness could hurt more than any wound. When I opened them again, he was still there, watching me with an expression I could not entirely name. His hand rose to cradle my face. I leaned into it before I could stop myself. A faint smile touched his lips.
"There you are," he whispered. The words stirred something fragile within me. For so long I had felt as though half my soul had been buried with Jacob, as though I had become little more than a shadow wearing the shape of a man.
Yet laying there beneath the moonlight, with Lucio's hand against my cheek and the quiet murmur of the forest surrounding us, I felt strangely seen. The silence between us became something warm.
My fingers tightened slightly in his hair, Lucio exhaled softly. Neither of us moved. Neither of us seemed willing to break whatever fragile thing had formed between us. At last, his forehead came to rest against mine once more.
"I think," he said quietly, "that perhaps we are both ruined."
A laugh escaped me then, soft and trembling, "Only perhaps?"
His own laughter followed, low and rich. The sound wrapped around me like warmth. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I found myself smiling. Truly smiling.
The forest remained silent around us, moonlight filtered through the branches overhead. More than anything, we chose one another, over and over again. Our bond deepened with each passing year, until it felt older than stone.
But time does not pause, even for us. The world shifted around our eternal youth. Villages became towns, towns became cities, wild countrysides turned to settled land. The world became louder, fuller, and somehow lonelier.
We witnessed strife after strife. World War I, the Russian Civil War, the Irish War of Independence, then the second great war. After that came the Cold War, Korea, Vietnam, the Balkan conflicts. Violence threaded itself through the century like a spine. By the year 2000, little had changed, just new flags waving above the same grief.
It weighed on me. I began to believe that if the world could simply learn to love—truly love, freely and without hesitation it might be unrecognizable. In another life, I might have led a revolution for love and tenderness. Lucio agreed the world needed more love, more softness, but it was still not safe for us to stand in the public eye as we were, but not just because we were vampires either.
This world was so fucked that being vampires seemed less fear inducing than our sexual preferences. No matter how many lifetimes we shared, I feared the day might never come when love was simply love. Without labels, without permission, without consequence. Just love in its purest, truest form. The kind we held between us.
Sal had reached out to Lucio a handful of times over the past century, though his messages were always brief. He never said much about himself, only wanted to ensure we were still here, but something shifted. He called six times over the past few days while Lucio and I were still tangled in each other, lost in pleasure and quiet laughter. Lucio kept promising he would return the call once we were finished.
The phone rang again while we were still wrapped in the warm haze of afterglow. “Someone really needs to work on their timing,” I teased as Lucio stood, stretching, and crossed the room to answer.
I couldn’t hear Sal’s words, but I watched the storm move across Lucio’s face. Annoyance morphed to anger, confusion, melting into frustration, until it settled into something that looked like old resentment. He closed his eyes, exhaling sharply.
“Sal, there is no fucking way—” he began, and whatever came back through the receiver silenced him. His jaw tightened as he swallowed his fury.
“Fine,” he said eventually, clipped and controlled. “I’ll handle it.”
He hung up.
Lucio turned back to me, a smile gentler than his eyes.
“Pack a bag, Sunshine. We’re going to the States.”
There was a flicker of something in his eyes that made his smile feel forced, and for the first time in our time together, I felt there was more he wasn’t saying. Something heavy and inevitable. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to hear it, or if he was ready to speak it.
But I didn’t question him. I gathered my things. Whatever awaited us, whatever storm was waking on the horizon, I knew one thing with absolute certainty that Lucio was with me.
And he would protect me, in every way that mattered.
The drive to Zürich passed in relative silence. Lucio and I had long since grown accustomed to existing in the quiet spaces between words. After over a hundred years together there was very little need to constantly fill the air with conversation.
Still, something felt different. The further we traveled, the more distant Lucio became. He kept glancing at me when he thought I wasn't looking. The first few times I ignored it, but by the time we boarded the flight to New York, I could no longer pretend not to notice.
The city lights of Zürich glittered beneath us as the plane climbed into the darkness. Lucio sat beside me with a drink untouched in his hand, that alone was strange. Normally he would have consumed half the cabin's alcohol supply simply because it amused him to watch flight attendants struggle to keep up with him.
Tonight he barely moved. I watched the reflection of his face in the window. His jaw was tight and his brows drawn together. Something was wrong. "What are you thinking about?"
Lucio blinked, "Hm?"
I smiled, "You've been staring into space for three hours."
A weak laugh escaped him, ‘Have I?"
His eyes found mine and the moment they did, my stomach tightened. There was guilt there, shadowed by fear. Something I had never seen directed toward me.
"What did Sal want?" The question hung between us. Lucio looked away first, "Trouble."
I snorted, "That could mean literally anything."
His smile appeared briefly and then vanished, "You're not wrong."
I continued watching him, waiting, hoping he might elaborate but he didn't. Instead he reached across the space between us and squeezed my knee. The gesture was familiar and comforting, yet somehow it felt more like reassurance for himself than for me.
The remainder of the flight passed in fragments, a movie neither of us watched, drinks neither of us touched. Hours spent drifting through darkness while Lucio sat beside me carrying something so heavy it seemed to bend his shoulders.
By the time we landed in New York, I was beginning to suspect Sal's mysterious emergency involved Narin. Nothing else explained the tension radiating from him. The train station was crowded. Humans rushed past in every direction carrying luggage, coffee, exhaustion and purpose. The smell of them was overwhelming.
Lucio placed a hand against the small of my back as we navigated through the crowd. A simple gesture, both protective and possessive. Yet his touch lingered longer than usual, as though he needed the reminder that I was still there.
By the time we boarded the train south toward Tennessee, my patience had worn thin. The train lurched forward, as more time passed.
Then more.
Finally I snapped, "Enough." Lucio looked up from the book he hadn't turned a page in for nearly half an hour. "Enough?" he asked.
"You're hiding something," I sighed, only to be met with more silence. I leaned forward, "You have been hiding something since that phone call."
His expression immediately hardened into what people wore before delivering terrible news. My chest tightened, "Narin?"
"No," He shook his head.
"Then what?" The train rattled beneath us as Lucio stared at me for so long that I began to regret asking. Then he smiled, small and sad but still just as beautiful and completely heartbreaking. "I was trying to figure out how to tell you."
Every instinct in my body immediately went on alert and fear curled around my ribs, "What?"
Lucio lowered his gaze and for the first time in over a century he looked afraid. Not afraid for himself, but afraid for me and somehow that was infinitely worse.
I kept my eyes locked on him, and when he finally looked me in my eyes I whispered, "Enough avoiding whatever this is." For a moment neither of us spoke as the train rattled softly beneath us. His eyes drifted back toward the window. My frustration flared immediately, "Luc."
His shoulders sagged and the movement alone filled me with dread. Slowly he turned back toward me. "I never wanted to lie to you," he said just loud enough for me to hear. My stomach dropped. The words struck me so unexpectedly that for a moment I simply stared at him.
"What?"
Pain flashed across his features. The kind of pain I had only seen a handful of times over the last century. "I never wanted to lie to you, Joshua." The use of my full name only made it worse. My throat tightened as I took a steadying breath, "What are you talking about?"
Lucio swallowed hard as I watched his movement full of hesitation. Whatever he was about to say had haunted him for a very long time. "If I tell you this," he began quietly, "there is no taking it back."
Fear clawed its way up my spine as I took my time to say "Then tell me." His eyes closed briefly and when they opened again they looked devastated.
"Jacob is among the living."
Everything inside me stopped, my brain felt dead as the sounds of the train rattling across the tracks and world around me muffled into nothing. I stared at him, waiting for him to explain or laugh or tell me I misunderstood. Instead he only looked at me with heartbreak written across every inch of his face.
"You knew?" I whispered.
His jaw flexed. "Joshua—"
"You knew?"
The words came out louder this time. My hands trembled and my chest burned. A century. A century of grief and mourning. A century of believing I was alone.
"You knew."
The tears gathering in Lucio's eyes stole some of the anger from me before it could fully take hold because Lucio was not a man who cried, not ever. And yet he looked as though my words had carved directly into his chest.
"I let you live."
The anger vanished completely as confusion took its place, "What?" I questioned, unsure of what he could have meant by that. Lucio leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, "I begged Sal to let me take you."
I stared at him completely speechless.
"I don't know why," a weak laugh escaped him. "I saw you and suddenly nothing else mattered." His eyes searched mine desperately. "Sal told me Narin believed you were dead." The pieces began slowly falling into place.
"If she found out otherwise..." I whispered as my eyes searched his face for a trace of anything other than the truth.
"She would have finished it."
The silence that filled the air between us felt so loud and stifling. The train continued moving forward and the world continued turning, yet I felt frozen. My mind was racing over everything I thought I knew of the last century, "You should have told me."
Lucio visibly flinched at that, his reaction immediate. It appeared visibly painful for him to admit, "I know."
"You should have told me,” my voice cracked, "Jake thought I was dead."
The tears finally spilled from Lucio's eyes, "I know."
"He was alone," the anger and hurt slipping into my tone.
"I know."
Every word felt like a knife cutting through my brain and flesh. "He thought he lost me.”
Lucio bowed his head, "And you thought you lost him." The grief in his voice shattered what remained of my anger. Because Lucio had carried this too. Every day, every year, for a century. Knowing what I did not. "I told myself it would only be temporary," his voice trembled. "A year,” he laughed bitterly. "Then five." I couldn't look away. "Then ten,” more tears fell. "I kept waiting for it to be safe."
His eyes met mine, "And I fell in love with you." The confession hit harder than everything else because of how broken he sounded. "I fell in love with you and every year it became harder," he looked away, ashamed. "As selfish as it sounds, I became terrified."
My heart twisted painfully, "Terrified of what?"
His answer came immediately, "Losing you." The honesty nearly broke me, "You would have gone looking for him." He wasn't asking because he already knew and so did I.
The truth sat between us, ugly and undeniable. I would have crossed oceans, and burned down kingdoms. I would have searched every corner of the earth until I found Jake.
"I am sorry for the pain I caused you,” his voice shook. "But Joshua," he said as those icy blue eyes met mine. Filled with love, fear, and a century of guilt. "I am not sorry that you survived." A sob caught in my throat and Lucio reached for my hand carefully as though afraid I might pull away.
I didn't, because despite everything… I understood and somehow that hurt even more.
Outside the window, the Smoky Mountains began to appear on the horizon. Dark blue silhouettes against the fading evening light.
Lucio followed my gaze and his expression softened. Then he reached across the table and covered my hand with his, "Whatever happens next, Sunshine..." His voice was quiet, "I need you to remember one thing."
I swallowed as I searched his face, "What?"
Those icy blue eyes met mine filled with a hundred plus years of devotion, love, and promises. "I never stopped trying."
Confusion swept through me. Trying for what? Before I could ask, the train rounded a bend and the mountains rose larger in the distance.
And for the first time since receiving Sal's call, Lucio looked absolutely terrified.
The remainder of the train ride passed in silence, but not because there was nothing left to say. Quite the opposite, there was too much. Too much grief and anger, too many years between what I had believed and what I now knew.
Jacob was alive. The words continued circling through my thoughts until they lost all meaning.
Alive.
Alive.
Alive.
Well, as alive as a vampire could be.
Over a century.
Over a hundred years spent mourning someone who had never truly left this world. I wasn't sure whether I wanted to laugh, scream, or collapse beneath the weight of it. Lucio remained beside me through all of it. His hand never left mine, not once.
When the train finally slowed into the station, I felt as though I were walking through a dream, or perhaps a nightmare. I had not yet decided which. Sal was waiting for us. I recognized him immediately from the few occasions he had crossed paths with Lucio throughout the years.
His expression shifted the moment he saw me. Guilt, heavy and undeniable. I stepped around Lucio before either of them could speak.
For a moment I simply stared at him. More than one hundred years he had known, he had watched both of us grieve, "You knew."
Sal sighed, "Joshua."
"You knew,” the words cracked as they left me. Pain flashed across his features, "Yes." That single syllable somehow hurt more than any excuse could have. I looked away before my anger could consume me entirely because if I looked at him any longer I wasn't sure what I might say or do.
Thankfully, someone else chose that moment to step forward. A woman with dark hair and warm eyes. A human-very human, and staring at me as though she'd seen a ghost. I frowned looking at her and she blinked before she smiled and looked away.
Then immediately started staring again. The cycle repeated itself several times before I finally sighed, "Do I have something on my face?"
The question startled a laugh from her. A real, genuine one, "No."
"Then why do you keep looking at me like that?"
Her smile widened, "I don't mean to."
"That sounds suspiciously intentional,” I said, causing Lucio to snort beside me.
The woman laughed again, the sound bright and comforting. Familiar in a way I couldn't explain. "I'm sorry," she said. "It's just..." she stopped and studied me again.
And there it was, that look. The one she kept giving me, like she was searching for someone or remembering someone, "You remind me of somebody."
My stomach tightened immediately. Jake. It had to be. The thought alone sent a fresh ache through my chest, "I've been told."
Her expression softened as a sadness settled behind her smile, "I imagine you have."
Something in her voice made me look at her properly, really look at the way she carried herself, the kindness in her eyes, the warmth that seemed to radiate from her. The kind of warmth that made people feel safe and the realization struck me unexpectedly that Jake would adore her. The certainty of it nearly stole my breath.
Whoever she was, whatever her relationship to my brother happened to be, I suddenly understood because she was exactly the sort of person Jacob would love.
"You're Joshua."
I blinked, "Last I checked."
A laugh escaped her and even her laugh felt familiar somehow, "I'm Ms. Wonder."
The name caught me off guard, one brow lifting, "Ms. Wonder?"
"Long story," she smiled.
"Clearly." I snorted.
For the first time since Lucio's confession, I felt something close to amusement. It surprised me and apparently it surprised Lucio too. The small smile he offered from beside me was painfully relieved as though hearing me laugh had returned something to him.
We piled into the vehicle soon after. Sal drove and Lucio sat beside him. Which left me trapped in the backseat with Ms. Wonder. Not that she seemed to mind. If anything, she appeared delighted by the arrangement.
The mountains rolled past outside as we drove deeper into Tennessee. Conversation came easily, unexpectedly easily. By the end of an hour it felt less like speaking to a stranger and more like speaking to someone I'd known for years.
Then I laughed at something she said and she immediately covered her mouth, "Oh no."
I frowned, "What?"
Her eyes widened, "You even laugh like him."
The vehicle fell silent. My chest tightened and Lucio's shoulders immediately stiffened. Sal muttered something beneath his breath. But Ms. Wonder simply stared looking increasingly emotional.
"He does that too."
I swallowed and scrunched my nose, "Does what?"
"The little nose scrunch," She pointed immediately, "That."
Lucio barked out a laugh in the moment, traitor I thought as heat rose to my face. Ms. Wonder looked moments away from tears, which only confused me further, "Why are you crying?"
She laughed, then cried harder and laughed again, "I don't know."
The answer was entirely unhelpful.
I glanced toward Lucio and he looked equally helpless.
"He talks about you,” the words were soft and quiet.
I froze, "What?"
Her smile immediately returned, gentler this time, "He always talks about you." The world felt like it narrowed. "He talks about your studies of film, and how good you would be now,” a laugh escaped her. "The trouble you got into as children,” followed by another laugh.
"The time you nearly broke your arm jumping from a tree because you were convinced you could fly."
I groaned, "Oh god."
Her eyes widened, "That happened?"
"Unfortunately."
Sal laughed, Lucio laughed and somehow so did I, a real laugh. One that felt strange after everything.
"He never stopped talking about you."
The smile slowly slipped from my face as emotion lodged itself painfully in my throat. For a moment I couldn't speak, couldn't breathe, couldn't think because somewhere out there Jacob had been talking about me all this time.
The thought alone nearly shattered me.
"What is he like?" The question escaped before I could stop it.
Ms. Wonder's entire expression softened into one of love, pure and unmistakable. The kind of love that changes people. "He cares too much."
A watery laugh escaped me because that sounded familiar.
"He believes everyone deserves a second chance."
Another nod.
"He carries the weight of the world around like it's somehow his responsibility."
I closed my eyes. God, that sounded exactly like him.
Ms. Wonder smiled sadly, "That's why meeting you is so strange."
I frowned, "What do you mean?"
She looked directly at me and for the first time since we'd met, I saw complete understanding settle across her face. "It's like meeting another Jake."
Silence followed. Outside, the trees began to thin.
A rooftop of a cabin came into view in the distance. Sal pulled the car over along the road and parked so we could slip quietly up to the cabin without being noticed. The woods should have been quiet and peaceful at this time of night, only it wasn't quiet.
Shouting echoed through the woods. Anger, violence and chaos rang loudly through the woods. The moment the vehicle stopped, Sal was out the door, Lucio moved just as quickly. I barely had time to process what was happening before Ms. Wonder grabbed my wrist as though we'd known one another forever. "Come on."
I followed Ms. Wonder as the sounds of fighting grew louder with every step. Then I saw her.
Narin.
For a moment the world disappeared. The rage that surged through me was immediate and overwhelming, but before she could move, Lucio stepped forward. His eyes flashed, and Narin froze completely. Locked in place, unable to move so much as a finger.
Sal moved toward the center of the clearing shouting for everyone to stop. The fighting slowly died away. One by one, heads turned toward Sal, then toward Lucio. Ms. Wonder's grip tightened around my wrist as she pulled me with her stepping forward out into the clearing.
That was when he turned to face us. If my heart still had a beat it would have stopped, and the world felt like it tipped on its axis. For the first time in over a hundred years I saw my brother Jake, standing before my own eyes. His shocked laughter took me by surprise, as tears filled my eyes as Lucio’s soft words danced in my ears “I found a way, Sunshine.”
.
.
.
AN: I had wanted to visit Josh’s life for sometime in this AU that @writingcold and myself dreamed up, and finally found the time to get it done when life wasn’t too busy. I also owe her a huge thank you for looking over this for me, and helping me when I needed it. Seriously, thank you P, for all of your advice, time, cheerleading and more importantly your friendship. Life wouldn’t be the same without you!! And anyone else, if you took the time to read this story, thank you from the bottom of my heart! 💜
I am including the tag list from the original story -
Notes: request fulfilled; not quite enemies to lovers but adjacent; flirting; Jake does a little striptease 😘; PG-13
The votes are in, and my Wattpad readers wanted a Jake fic (Danny's up next woot woot). I had started a completely different one, didn't like it, then thought, well, why don't I go back to my ancient list of requests and see if I missed anything? I missed this gem:
"Jake is like the neighbor in an apartment block and him and the reader don't get along, for no specific reason, they just don't like each other, and then the reader has a bad day but it gets even worse when jake gets in the elevator in their apartment block. But the elevator breaks down so they're stuck together and then they have an argument but sort out their feelings."
Whoever you are, if you're still here, thank you for the request. Hope y'all enjoy <3
---
On your way out the front door, you rolled your eyes. There were three packages in the lobby, all belonging to Jake. Sure, the mail carrier often neglected to actually put packages in the right cubbies or any cubbies at all, but you and everyone else in the building knew that, so why didn’t Jake just grab his packages instead of letting them sit there? It wasn’t even a big deal, you knew that, but it irked you. No one else did that. Really, it was the gall that irked you–Jake really never thought anyone might one day take a package for themselves?
He seemed to buy a lot of books though, so maybe not. No value in those in anyone else but him, apparently. It looked like one package of books today, you noted as your eyes remained glued to the packages with your keys in hand, but you weren’t sure about the two others.
In the few years you’d lived there, you’d never been able to figure your neighbor out. You told yourself you didn’t care, but your heart jumped a little when you found yourself pulling into the parking lot and noticed he was sitting in his car, either readying to leave or go inside. Intrigue tickled your brain when you saw him taking walks around the neighborhood, something you also did, but you always made a point to avoid him when that happened. You’d turn down a street you’d never intended to walk down just to not have to look at him anymore.
He was quiet, that was for sure. You lived right below him and hardly ever heard activity in his apartment. Music, sometimes, but only when it was warm enough to have the windows open; you’d be walking in or out of the building and hear the sounds of blues and rock and folk music drifting through the open blinds and screen. You heard him having friends over sometimes on those warm nights, too, and would look up and wonder what they were doing and what the inside of his apartment looked like.
What the problem really was, you realized for the first time in all these years, was that you had tried to be friendly. You’d lived there first; after he moved in, you introduced yourself, tried to be neighborly, kept up with saying hi when you saw him, tried to make chit-chat once in a while. Why not, right? He was your age and also living alone. Why not be friends, or at least cordial?
But Jake had never given you that much. Not that he was mean or even distinctly rude, he was mostly just stand-offish. Cold. Stuck-up. Just wouldn’t give you the time of the day. That’s how it seemed, anyway, and you eventually managed to kick yourself for trying to be so nice to this self-involved dude who, apparently, didn’t give a damn.
Shutting the driver’s side door of your car, you huffed. It was so stupid to think about him at all. Just seeing his name on those packages had incited a river of emotion winding around someone who was basically a stranger.
For trying to be so nice, what bad karma had you cultivated to deserve a flat tire on the way to work? That was a really fun ordeal but, whatever, you managed to roll to a gas station with an air pump and deal with it. But then, of course, you got reprimanded for being twenty minutes late, as if that was the end of the world. And then, because why not, you discovered that your favorite coffee mug was missing and no one seemed to know where it went. Maybe one of the night custodians tossed it, one coworker theorized, which seemed nonsensical to you and you spent your morning seething, sure that someone in the vicinity had taken it for themselves.
When lunch came around, you learned that you’d forgotten to bring yours to work with you, so that was also great. But okay, at least you could pop over to the cafe a few blocks down and get something, although once you brought the take-out container back to work, you could have exploded upon seeing that they’d given you the wrong order entirely. It wasn’t as if that was the end of the world but my god, how many more things could get messed up in one day?
You resigned to just counting the minutes until you could go home and finally chill out, just try to forget about all of this nonsense, all the while struggling to focus on what you needed to do. When the end finally came around and you were packing your things up and trying not to be too bitter about your favorite coffee mug that still hadn’t popped up, your boss told you there was one more thing to be done, so you were stuck there for a while longer.
Getting into your car and listening to the engine rumble low, then getting music playing to stop the broken dam of stress and chaos and cycling thoughts triggered by your bad day, you breathed a sigh of relief. You could go home now with a properly inflated tire, make yourself a dinner that you actually wanted and do everything you wanted for the rest of the evening on your own time, which would be a whole lot of nothing.
You weren’t going to let the fact that you ended up at the elevators just as Jake was waiting for it to descend as well bring you down. You’d be home in no time. You nodded; he nodded back, those three packages under his arm, and you stopped yourself from saying something sarcastic about him finally taking them out of the lobby.
Just a few floors to go and it would all be over. You’d be home and you wouldn’t have to look at anyone’s face, least of all Jake’s, whose undeniable attractiveness also irked you.
But a couple floors below your own, the elevator suddenly rumbled, jarring you and your neighbor into a nerve-wracking stumble within the small space. The vibrations radiated up through your feet and into your heart that began to beat fast with instinctual worry. Elevators weren’t supposed to make sounds like that, and certainly weren’t supposed to come to a screeching halt between floors.
“What the hell,” Jake said, intercepting the tense silence that followed the strange mechanical sounds. He peered at the buttons, the two of your respective buttons still lit up, glanced at the metallic doors that were still glued shut, then turned to you. “Are we stuck?”
It was one of those things that seemed to happen so rarely that, at first you thought, no, there was no way. There was clearly a problem, but it’d get moving soon. It had to.
“Hopefully not,” you said, but your gut told you that, yeah, you guys were stuck, and of course you were, because as much as you’d thought your day couldn’t get worse, of course it could.
Silence commenced for a minute, the two of you undoubtedly sharing the hope that you weren’t stuck and, in a few seconds, the elevator would get moving again. But when it didn’t, and no more mechanical noises came, Jake sighed and pressed the button to your floor, waited a second, then pressed the button to his own floor.
“Fuck. Come on, seriously?” He tried the “open door” button next, but nothing happened. He sank back to the wall perpendicular to the doors and buttons that had betrayed you and, for the first time in a long time, looked directly at you for more than a mere second. “This is messed up.”
Yeah, it certainly was, but there was the “call for help” button that he’d neglected to press. You managed not to roll your eyes at his seemingly total lack of awareness and pressed it yourself, but nothing happened; no voice came.
“Wow, okay.” You tried again, but no luck. The apartment office was closed, but didn’t they have some kind of backup system or something? You tried one more time, but it was clear that, at least right now, no one knew this was happening. But a neighbor coming home would have to notice what was happening and do something, right?
Perhaps more quickly accepting this unfortunate fate than you, Jake set his packages down. “Well, this sucks. I’ve never been in this situation before.”
You scoffed. “I doubt many people have.” Snide bitterness almost made you sneer as he took a seat on the floor, but the idea of sitting down was tempting. You were exhausted. But you remained standing and reminded yourself that dealing with this in the company of someone else was probably better than dealing with it alone.
Jake pulled his phone from his jacket pocket, put it to his ear, then a moment later locked it with a frown. “No answer at the office, although I suppose that’s expected.” He unlocked his phone and tipped his head down, scrolling. “Shit, I don’t have the emergency maintenance number, which is very stupid of me.”
You did the same thing, heart singing with hope that you were smart enough to have saved it at some point but, no, you hadn’t. You sighed and sank down the floor across from him. “Me either. So stupid.”
“Do you know anyone else in the building?”
“No.” That was also stupid, but you’d pretty much given up on being neighborly with anyone else since Jake had scorned you. Anyway, people came and went so often that you couldn’t keep track. As far as you could tell, you and Jake were the longest standing tenants.
Jake sighed and tilted his head back, eyes pointing up to the ceiling. “This has been such a stressful day. It’s just one more thing, apparently.”
“Tell me about it.” You figured that would be that, that you’d both sit in silence and distract yourself with your phones until you got rescued, but intrigue tickled you once again and you found yourself asking, “What happened?”
“Just–just bullshit, you know?” He chuckled with a shake of his head that was still resting on the wall of the elevator. Unexpectedly, he added, “Sometimes people just need to let things go.”
So you two had different versions of bad days, but you could still relate. “Yeah,” you said, and he tipped his head down and his eyes met yours again.
You felt a little thrown for a second–it’d been so long since you’d had a true face to face interaction. You often got glimpses of his profile as you passed one another or you saw him sitting in his car, but seeing him straight on revealed everything–his long, dark hair with the gentlest wave; his slightly arched dark brows that perfectly framed his dark, slightly sleepy eyes that, unfortunately, perfectly exemplified bedroom eyes; the incredibly subtle but not imperceptible bump in the middle of his otherwise perfectly straight and proportional nose; the pointed cupid’s bow adorning the curve of his lips.
It wasn’t often you saw attractive guys around. That was another motivator to be neighborly back in the day. Not that you had the intention of trying to get with him–that seemed like a bad idea–but it never hurt to engage with a hot guy, and it never hurt to have fleeting fantasies. It was only his sour attitude toward you that blew those fantasies away.
“I’m trying to let all the bullshit that happened today go,” you admitted, tearing your eyes away from his face and to the shiny silver elevator doors instead. “But it’s pretty hard to do that trapped in here. It’s like a horror movie. Any second, the lights are gonna go out.”
He laughed. You’d never heard him laugh before. It was a nice sound, both soft and lively, and undoubtedly earnest. He really thought it was funny.
“Let’s not speak that into existence.” His laugh ended but his smile remained, and it was a nice smile. “At least neither one of us is dealing with this alone.”
“I thought the same thing,” you admitted. Now that the two of you were indeed stuck together, it was shockingly easy to talk to him. Maybe you would’ve talked to anyone in this situation easily, because what other option would there be? But instead of the usual awkwardness and chill that drifted from him, there was a feeling of warmth and comfort. That was odd, and you said, “It’s funny that fate decided to put two people who don’t even like each other together, though.”
His brow furrowed and his bedroom eyes became alight with confusion. “We don’t like each other? I didn’t know that.”
Well, it could have been inaccurate phrasing considering no one can dislike someone they don’t really know, but you weren’t sure how else to describe it. You had to try to explain it now: “I just mean, like, there’s this weird, unwarranted, unspoken animosity between us.” The confusion on his face only intensified but, worse, after a second of him processing that, he looked hurt. “You don’t even say hi to me.”
“Oh.” Hurt turned to recognition, and his gaze dropped down to his crossed legs. “Yeah, uh–that’s true. I’m sorry.” His quick and easy apology was also surprising, and he followed it up by looking up at you with solemn sincerity in his eyes. “I was kind of a mess when I moved in here and–I think I was a little intimidated by you.” He ran a hand through his hair with a little sigh. “I was in a bit of a fragile state.”
“Me trying to be nice was intimidating?” you probed, sort of amused, actually, by this confession of his. His silence in response tugged at your heart, though. “Well, what happened? If you wanna tell me.”
He leaned forward and rested his arms on his thighs. “It all seems silly now, but at the time, it felt so serious. It was serious. My girlfriend broke up with me and I had to move out, and it all happened so quickly.” His shoulders dropped, his upper body slouching even more. “Obviously, I didn’t want that to happen. I was just trying to process everything and–honestly, I felt very insecure.” His brows rose a bit as he regarded you. “And then I find out this really pretty girl lives in the same building and is being nice to me and I didn’t know what to do. My guard was up, y’know?”
You opened your mouth to reply, but he spoke first, throwing you off again by carrying on with this confession: “I wasn’t sure how to navigate it after I realized how much of a dick I was being. I couldn’t just say, hey, sorry for being so fucking rude, but my girlfriend who I thought was going to marry dumped me for another guy and now I don’t know how to talk to anyone?” With a quiet chuckle, he leaned back, seemingly relieved that he’d gotten it all out.
His girlfriend dumped him for another guy? Jesus. “That’s brutal,” you said, your heart tugged again, sympathy alive in every beat. When his compliment finally hit you, your heart beat faster. So, you both thought one another was pretty. Interesting.
“I’m really sorry. For the record, I tried not to take it personally–for a while, anyway,” you continued. “I thought maybe you were just really stand-offish. But–I don’t know.” You studied the obscured red and blue pattern of the carpet between your own crossed legs for a moment. “I never got to know anyone else here and I thought maybe we’d be friends. Or at least friendly.”
“After this, I think we could be. We’re bonded now.” You laughed softly–that was true. With a little groan, he rose to his knees and stretched over to press the help button again. “Fuck. Just our luck, right?”
“Seriously.” It was a miserable situation, but for the first time, you smiled. “Today has been nothing but bad luck.”
Tracing a fingertip along one of the packages beside him, Jake said, “Right after I moved in, someone would bring my packages up and leave them outside my door.” His perfect pink lips curved into a smile. “Was that you?”
You’d actually forgotten you used to do that. You’d stopped when you figured there was no way he’d ever appreciate the gesture and he was going to continue to let his mail sit in the lobby forever.
“Yeah, it was me. You just let them sit around for so long.” You scoffed, but you were smiling, too. “Don’t you ever worry about someone stealing them?”
He shrugged. “Sometimes I’m scatterbrained and don’t even notice them.” He patted the empty space to his left and said, “Let’s open them together. I don’t remember what the hell I ordered.”
It felt silly to literally crawl over to his side, but whatever. It took five seconds and then you were right next to him, your arms brushing together, the sleeve of his jacket a whisper against your long-sleeved shirt. He leaned away, prompting you to be insulted, hurt again, but he only shrugged his jacket off and tossed it beside the packages.
“It’s warm in here,” he said, and it was, but the brush of his arm against yours was even warmer. It was nice. It’d been a while since you were so close to such an attractive guy, and now you were trapped with one. He handed you the package tightly covered in thin green plastic. “Want to open this one? I know it’s a book, but I remember which one.”
You definitely appreciated a man who was a reader, and the book that was revealed beneath the wrapping was interesting–Manual of the Warrior of Light.
“I’ve never read this. Never even heard of it, honestly,” you said, flipping through the first few pages so you didn’t have to stare at Jake’s bare hand resting on another package. It was a tan, graceful hand, with long fingers and slender bones, and you wouldn’t mind that hand touching you. “It seems interesting.”
“Ah, now I remember. I ordered this because it’s a companion to The Alchemist, which I read a few months ago.” Jake moved in closer, looking over your shoulder as you flipped back to the publication page. “What do you like to read?”
“A lot of different things. I’m open to almost everything.” You couldn’t help but smile at the torn packaging. “I’m no stranger to Thrift Books.”
He laughed again, the sound a sweet song in your ears. “It’s great, isn’t it? I think that was only five bucks or something.” He was so close that his hair tickled your shoulder as he sat back. “If you ever want to borrow either, let me know.”
Your throat was tight as you said, “Sure.” All it had taken to go from possibly nonsensical enemies to two people with a budding friendship was a misfortune elevator mishap, a ridiculous stroke of bad luck that ended up having a silver lining. Maybe it was a good thing you’d never interacted before this because if you had, you would have spent a long time smitten.
“Okay, what is this?” He dropped the next package into his lap, clearly an article of clothing. “Oh, I think I know,” he said after a moment of contemplating it, then tore one corner. “I thought this was so cool, but you can tell me if it’s not.”
It was cool–a thin black button down long-sleeved shirt with silver rhinestones along the last fourth of the sleeves, glitzy and, dare you think it, sexy. Flashy, too, and you said, “I really like that.” He wasn’t wearing anything so bold now, just a contrastingly simple button-down and now that you thought about it, that style seemed to be what you saw him in ninety percent of the time. “Where would you wear it?”
He chuckled and ran his fingertips along the rhinestones. “I thought I’d wear it on a night out or something. You never know. It feels good to dress up.”
And feeling as daring as the shirt looked, you blurted, “You should try it on. Fashion show.” He turned to you with a befuddled grin and you added, “What else do we have to do?”
“Seriously?” he asked, and you nodded, it being too late to turn back. Your heart was racing again, blood warm with growing interest and anticipation. He tilted his head, studying the shirt, then shrugged and got to his feet. “Why not?”
You really didn’t think he’d do it, but he did, and your stomach clenched as he unbuttoned the plain white shirt he was wearing. His skin was golden and smooth, so tempting; you could imagine skating your fingers across his chest that was revealed first. You could imagine tracing his collarbones, and when the shirt was unbuttoned all the way, you could imagine your mouth on his sternum and moving down to his belly that was also smooth and looked so soft.
Instead of cursing the broken elevator, you were now silently thanking it.
Jake’s cheeks had gone pink, the flush making him even prettier, but he said, “I might seem shy, but I’m really not. I’m just quiet.”
“Noted.” You were mesmerized by his bare upper half and the way he moved, subtly and gracefully, and your chest tightened when he bent over and his hair hung in his face. With one hand, he plucked the black shirt from atop its plastic packaging and spread his arms, sliding one hand through the right sleeve, shrugged the shirt over his shoulders, then slid his other arm through. He let it hang unbuttoned long enough for you to salivate over his exposed skin for another moment, then you wished you were the one buttoning it up for him.
He only buttoned it halfway, leaving his chest exposed. He held his arms out, then dropped them to his sides. “Does it look ridiculous?”
You wished it looked ridiculous. It was a perfect example of someone wearing the garment, not the other way around. His lithe yet sturdy body took command of the shirt; it draped over him just right and you could see his skin through the material that was even thinner than it initially looked, gauzy and titillating.
“It looks really good. Keep it for sure,” you said, and he smiled, clearly taking the compliment to heart. Your own heart did another pitter-patter. “Very cool.”
He stepped over to the elevator doors and put one hand on his hip, then laughed and turned around. “I can’t see shit in those doors.”
“Trust me.” You nodded, unable to stop yourself from gaping at him. “It looks really good.”
The process of him taking the shirt off was even more agonizing, because you were stuck on the floor imagining him stripping and pouncing on you. But soon enough, he was buttoning up his familiar white shirt and sitting down next to you to open the last package, evidently more clothing.
“Oh, shit. Wait,” he said, slowly sliding it out of your grasp. “I remember this one. It’s embarrassing.”
“Why?” You managed to keep your hands on it and squeezed it, trying to figure out what exactly it could be. “It just feels like another shirt or something.”
He was blushing again. “No, it’s not a shirt. It’s, um–” You let him take it away, and he chuckled. “It’s what you wear under your pants.” He snorted and slapped a hand over his face. “Okay, I just told you.”
“Underwear?” You smirked to yourself. This bad day was really turning around. “Well, so what? Everyone wears it. Hopefully.” You gazed at his chest, exposed again because he hadn’t bothered to button his shirt up all the way like it’d been before. “You already stripped for me. I’m not gonna ask you to do that again, but I’ll admit I’m curious what these look like.”
So curious, and you were sure he wouldn’t satiate that curiosity, but then he ripped the package open–this time, with his teeth, and my god. In your mind’s eye you saw him ripping away your own underwear with his teeth.
“Okay, I’ll show you. No shame, right?” He ripped open the clear protective plastic with more urgency than before and placed three pairs of boxer briefs in your lap. “There you go.”
Oh my god, they were all silk. Silk boxer briefs, one black, one dark blue, one dark silver. This was a first.
“These are nice. Fancy.” You flipped over one of the tags to look at the price which made you balk. “Jesus. It’s that much for one pair?”
“It’s worth it.” Jake chuckled and took them away, quickly putting them back in the packaging.
You considered not asking, but who cared at this point? “Are you wearing a pair of those right now?”
Another chuckle, this one laced with distinct shyness, which was so adorable that you were totally smitten now. Again, there was no turning back, and it was so ridiculous that it’d taken this long to really speak at all, yet it’d only taken half an hour to see this guy half-naked and learn what underwear he wore.
“Maybe.” Jake’s eyebrows rose and he glanced down at your thighs. “What are you wearing?”
Okay, that was fair. That also made you blush and, embarrassingly, giggle and turn away. “I can’t tell you,” you said, your voice high with nervousness.
“I showed you,” he replied, the smile evident in his voice. “I think it’s justified that you merely tell me.”
“Okay, well, they’re not silk.” That was all you were going to share, but when you looked at him, he was expectant, silently urging you with another raise of his eyebrows and a gleam in those bedroom eyes, and you gave in: “A thong, okay?” You raised your hands as if you could ward off your embarrassment. “A black thong. No one wants to see pantylines.”
“Really?” He sounded so pleased, and looked the same with that cheeky grin on his face. “That’s sexy.”
“Oh my god.” You turned away again, your face hot, your stomach fluttering with butterflies you hadn’t felt in forever, your instinct now screaming for you to keep it cool, but you couldn’t. From now on, there would be no dismissive glances in the halls or outside; there would be knowing grins and awkward waves.
There was a slight pressure on your arm; Jake’s hand gracing you with his gentle touch, reassuring now, not teasing. You looked down at it, then up to his eyes, and he said, “Just so you know, I do think you’re really attractive.” He took his hand away as if he’d said the wrong thing, but then he added, filling you with bewildering confusion, “And just for the record, I’m still single. Maybe I could take you out sometime and begin to make up for being an asshole.”
His voice was so soft and his gaze was so tender that you began to calm down, at least enough to say, “That’d be really nice. The only reason I didn’t end up having a terrible crush on you is because I thought you couldn’t stand me.”
“A terrible crush,” he repeated with a small laugh. “Yeah, that’s fair. But you’re saying I still have a chance?”
“Yeah,” you said with a sigh. “You still have a chance.”
“Good.” He inched forward, repositioning himself in a way that made it seem like he was either getting up or about to pivot to face you. “Because–”
The elevator abruptly rumbled and lurched into action. You gasped; Jake cursed. It was moving again, the sound of metal churning strange and off-putting, concerning, and you clutched Jake’s wrist, suddenly made to anticipate the worst possible outcome. You’d never get out of the elevator. You’d die in it. But at least you wouldn’t die alone.
But then the grinding sounds subsided and the elevator moved smoothly upwards, and with a ding, it landed on your floor. The doors opened; you and Jake looked at one another with shared surprise, then he took your hand and helped you onto your feet.
“Let’s get out before we get stuck again,” he said, not letting go of your hand as he gathered all the open packages and jacket into his other hand, an impressive feat, you thought. “I’m going to take the stairs from now on.”
He walked you to your door with your hands bound together, your heart fluttering the whole way. His palm was warm and soft and his fingers were slotted with yours, and they curled into a little squeeze when your steps were forced to come to a stop.
You could have fainted when he lifted your hand and kissed it. “I’m glad you were with me during that ordeal.” He smiled, showing his impressively straight, white teeth. “And that we survived.”
“I know, right?” It was hard to get the words out. You wanted to say more, wanted to do more, but you were frozen, unwilling to let him go.
Thankfully, his grasp lingered, and he said, “I suppose I’ll need your number if I’m going to take you out.”
“Yes, you will,” you agreed, but you still weren’t ready for the contact to be broken for either of you to get your phones.
Jake looked down at your entwined hands and smiled again. Your own eyes stayed on his face, soaking in the sight, your mind replaying the memories of all the times you saw him and wondered and seethed and, sometimes, admittedly, pined.
He looked into your eyes again, stroked your knuckles with his thumb, and was daring enough to kiss your cheek, which, of course, was even more exciting and made you even more delirious than him kissing your hand.
“Who knows,” he mused, his cheeks turning rosy when he pulled back. “Maybe someday we’ll both see each other in our underwear.”
Summary: Having Josh for a friend is a gift. Having Josh for a friend while also being a gifted photographer could be a curse because the man just has no shame...
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere.
Warnings (are spoilers): voyeurism and exhibicionism, erotic photography, bedroom photosession, alcohol consumption, seduction, playful deceit, kissing, licking, threesome, sex, oral sex (both f and m receiving), anal sex (not explicit), very light dom play, polyamory
“No!”
Well, that resonated. I could tell by Josh’s wide eyes and his parted lips, frozen in mid-sentence that I hadn’t allowed him to finish. He swallowed hard to wash down the words that got involuntarily stuck in his throat and was about to try again…
“Just NO!”
What a cute, powerful word. So seemingly straightforward in its basic meaning, yet you can always add more facets to it with just the right tone and delivery. It can be a disinterested no, or an open question full of wonder. Combine it with just the right amount of agitation in your voice and it lands with the urgency of a whiplash. That’s what I did, without really thinking. I actually surprised myself. It came out harsher than I really wanted and the lady at the nearest table on my right immediately gave me a grossed out look. Like I cared. He deserved it.
I stared back at Josh with pretty much justified indignation during the brief silence that followed, and to my astonishment, it did have an actual effect on him this time. As it should! My rather abrupt and very definite reply wiped that crooked smile off his face and he went from a cocky bastard to a wounded puppy within a few seconds. No more playful pouts, no feisty smirks.
Sadly, no hints that he had been joking either… which only made it worse. “Yeah, I feared you’d say that,” he sighed and carefully put his glass down, suddenly finding the place mat in front of him extremely interesting.
So interesting it made his cheeks burn.
Consequently, it made my own face heat up as well. So, he had been serious? And asking me such a thing in public, no less! Anyone could hear him.
Well, at least he looked like he seemed to realize how impudent his request was. But still…
I opened my mouth, and then closed it with a huff, before I took a deep grounding breath and finally blurted out: “Feared? You should have expected that! Have you lost your mind?” A few more people sitting at the nearest tables turned their heads and I immediately cursed myself for my own lack of decorum. Josh just bit his lip and visibly shrunk, which made him look like a very tiny tomato.
Not exactly the reaction I was hoping for, because I still expected him to wave his hand and say something like ‘yeah, gotcha’, followed by his signature giggle. I’d take anything that would assure me that he in fact had not been serious. Then the two of us could just laugh it off as a joke that uncustomarily didn’t land. It would still feel slightly awkward, but at least we could go back to the previously abandoned topic and everything would be well.
But Josh remained silent. He also refused to meet my gaze. Those two phenomenons were pretty rare and unusual even when they happened separately; their mutual occurrence felt almost like a cosmic rupture. Knowing him, it had only one explanation. So, not only he had thought it would be a good idea to ask me such a thing, but also…
“Josh… please… tell me you didn’t actually think I would agree to that! That’s insane.”
It started as a purely professional relationship, and it certainly was my intention to keep it that way, because I consider myself a professional. Duh. Josh loves having his pictures taken and I dare say I was rather good at it. We clicked. I understood what he wanted, and I delivered. Simple.
However, befriending him is extremely easy… or so I thought. It was a trap, actually. It’s only easy when he decides, which in retrospect should make me feel very flattered. And it does.
To clarify – Josh is in general a very outgoing person, which already fooled many poor, naive souls into believing it meant anything more than just pretty much nothing, because while he tries to be friendly with everyone, he chooses his people carefully. Only the ones who really “get” him can get really near. I know it now; I was unaware back then.
As I kept my professional distance, it was all just casual banter to me. A wise choice on my part, based on years of experience. Josh treated us all the same, always greeting us with his radiant smile. It didn’t really matter if it was me, Liz the makeup artist, or my technical assistant Mark.
Over time, I saw how people who mistook his joviality for real friendship received a proverbial slap in the face the moment they crossed a line they had failed to see. Poor Mark was one of them. Bless his soul.
I also saw others being lured into his trap without even realizing it, but not before it somehow happened to me once Josh started encouraging me to keep making unwise choices. Again, very flattered. When Josh decides you’re allowed to love him, you really have no other option but to accept that offer, whether you like it or not… but I can guarantee you’d like it.
I remember when Josh saw the pictures I had just taken displayed on my laptop screen for the very first time and his face visibly lightened, though with a tinge of cute timidness and wonder. After hours of strutting around the studio like a peacock, he suddenly looked very small and almost bashful, giving me rather mixed signals, to be honest.
“Is it bad?” I asked with an apprehensive smile. I knew those pictures were good, but I had learned over time that those things are almost always subjective and sometimes my eyes see different things than what my clients want or expect me to see. They tell me what they want, and they think they’re in full control, but I am the one who controls the shutter, and that can be merciless. Not everyone likes what it reveals sometimes. And Josh definitely seemed a bit surprised.
“No, it’s… it’s absolutely perfect. Very… candid… in a way.”
That was it for the time being. Apart from telling me what I already knew, I had to wait a bit longer for him to elaborate on why exactly he thought the result was perfect. However, that doesn’t really matter because I think that was the moment when something shifted between us. I could hear it… or rather I could feel it, because Josh’s voice makes you feel things. I never understood how easily he manages to modulate it so that it sounds pretty much thunderous one moment, and then soft and balmy the next second. But it does, and it always has a direct effect on those who listen.
I walked right into that trap. It took only three sessions for our initially casual and politely impersonal conversations to get more… well, personal.
The strangest thing is that it didn’t feel wrong at all. Not for a second. We got there quite naturally, or maybe I should say he got us there quite effortlessly with me in a passenger seat, and it so happened that the third photoshoot ended with him getting me awfully drunk. In my favorite bar, no less. After he somehow made me suggest the place.
Josh still had gemstones on his cheeks when we got there, flashing his extravagant looks with dignity despite a few stares. It fascinated me. I wasn’t oblivious to the controversial reception of his band, or him as a public figure. I had come across some nasty shit firsthand when I had posted a few pictures on my Instagram just a few days prior, and the nastiness of some of the comments genuinely appalled me. Especially since I got to know him as a person.
“I admire you,” I blurted out after finishing my third drink. I was already a bit tipsy, but still not drunk enough to miss the subtle changes in his expression when I said that. At first, a spark in his eye that matched the barlights reflected in those gemstones, like a tiny tear you can still blink away if you want to. It lasted maybe just a split of a second, but that flash of pure joy didn’t go unnoticed, before it was replaced by yet another toothy grin. Just as flashing, but a just bit less sincere, as if he was still not completely sure whether to trust me. That didn’t go unnoticed either.
“I hear that quite often,” he practically screeched, using his shrill, theatrical shield-voice reserved for moments when he feels the need to hide his soft side. For a moment, I thought I overstepped and was about to get Marked for ruining the moment with an ingratiating flattery.
But I meant it, and not really in a way he probably thought, so I continued: “I’m serious, Josh. I admire your ability to put up with the people who do the very opposite. And some of them are quite loud about it. And yet you just continue being yourself. Turning the other cheek and shit. I couldn’t do that.”
The smile vanished, although his eyes continued to sparkle. Josh pursed his lips and let out a snort that could be easily interpreted as both amusement and annoyance. I think he couldn’t really decide. “Well, maybe I deserve it. I don’t know,” he said rather matter-of-factly before he took another sip.
“Bullshit. You know you don’t.” I could see he cared. It wasn’t like he didn’t give a shit about those haters, which made the fact that he didn’t let them stop him even more admirable. “I just love how you don’t let it get under your skin too much. Every time I see a negative comment about my pictures, I feel crushed. I wish I could be more like you, instead of giving them what they want.”
“Well…,” Josh took a deep breath and put a hand on my shoulder. He had done that before. In fact, he does that pretty often, always being so touchy feely when talking to people. Josh uses touch as punctuation. It’s one of the reasons why he’s such a trickster.
This was new, though. Different. It felt like a question mark. His hand slid gently down my upper arm in an almost intimate manner. If it was anyone else, I’d flinch. Instead, I waited with a baited breath for him to continue. “It used to worry me a lot, I won’t lie. But you gotta learn how to deal with it if you wanna survive.”
“Ok, but how?”
“It’s pretty simple, actually. You have to… to acknowledge what’s letting you down, and then just let it gooo.” To accentuate his point, he thrust his right arms to the side, barely missing the man who was just passing by our spot at the bar. “Oh, sorry, sorry.”
To be honest, it sounded like some cheap guru advice, but thankfully Josh wasn’t offended when I told him. Instead, he just urged me to try it.
That night, Josh charmed me into telling him things I hadn’t confided in my own sister, and even though I woke up with a terrible hangover afterwards, I felt significantly lighter emotionally.
It was the beginning of a friendship that I truly cherish.
But let me make one thing perfectly clear. When I say friendship, I really mean it. Josh is very attractive in his own unconventional and quirky way, and I must admit that he invaded the sacred space of my fantasies more than a few times.
However, he’s got Gabe. And that’s really all I needed to know.
Entering Josh’s world meant I had to befriend Gabe as well. And I really didn’t mind. What girl wouldn’t want to have a fashion stylist as a friend, right?
No, really, I genuinely like the guy. He’s just as cute, though in a slightly different way than Josh. Gabriel possesses this effortless, gracious charm that never makes you wonder whether he’s aware of his good looks. It’s obvious he is. Where Josh sometimes hides his insecurities behind goofiness, Gabriel stands tall and calm, with his hands in his pockets and his eyes always ready to wink at you instead of wasting unnecessary words. I suppose that’s pretty easy when you’re endowed with dark wavy hair, porcelain skin and a well-defined jawline. Straight brows and a greek nose only add to his inherently calm facial features, and his glasses are just a cherry on top. Like a pinch of sophistication.
Together, they’re like a cherub and a seraph. Mr. Feisty and Dr. Suave. And – what’s most important – they’re really head over heels for each other. One loves fervently, while the other responds with sensual calmness. It’s very entertaining to watch.
Which brings me back to Josh’s indecent request.
Josh never answered my question, which basically meant that – yes, he really did think that I might eventually agree to take photos of the two of them making love.
I remember that just the idea made my heart beat like crazy. And yes, I immediately imagined that scene in my head. I’m only human. And so are they. Two very pretty specimens.
What started as one of many of our casual weekday dinners turned to something I wasn’t ready for. The atmosphere between us got tense, and I hated it. The subsequent silence was gnawing at me and I could see Josh felt the same. Abandoning the subject entirely would probably only make things worse. Getting up and leaving him there alone was out of the question entirely, simply because I really didn’t want to do that. I would never do that. Just the simple fact that he asked me to do such a thing meant he trusted me with his life. Literally. I could ruin it very easily with one click if I ever was in possession of such photos.
So I refilled our glasses – a simple gesture meant to assure him that I wasn’t really mad at him – and then I took another deep breath. “Whose idea was that?”
Josh looked up, surprised by the sudden question, but I could see relief in his eyes as well. “Well…” He flushed again. As if trying to mask it, he reached for his glass of wine and took another sip, but the wine went down the wrong pipe, making him cough. A few droplets of the crimson liquid trickled onto his lower lip and I couldn’t help but admire how sensuous he managed to look even in such an awkward situation. “Well… it’s…,” he tried again in between coughs.
I already knew the answer. “Josh, you don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. I hope you know what.” As I said, I really liked Gabriel, but that man was a dark horse, ready to strike or to make a grand entrance when you least expected it. Including relationships. Sometimes it was for the best, because he encouraged Josh to step out of his comfort zone more than once and with results that were almost always beneficial for both, careerwise or in bed. Or so I’ve heard.
But there were a few times, maybe just once or twice, when I had been wondering whether his true intentions hadn’t been a bit egocentric. Or maybe even insidious in the long run…
“No…,” Josh suddenly interrupted my train of thoughts. “The truth is that… the… that I’ve wanted to d… to try something like that. I just felt like I… no, I mean, I knew I couldn’t. Trust’n’shit, ya know?”
Yeah, I knew. And once again, I was deeply flattered he had decided to trust me with such a thing. Still worried, though. It probably showed on my face.
“You don’t believe me.”
“No, I do, I just… I’m just wondering what makes you think that now you can.”
It sounded exactly the way I didn’t want it to. The conversation suddenly shifted from my reluctance to do it to something completely different. A dangerous territory. I knew he knew who I meant when I questioned his sudden trust in the people involved. No wonder I cringed when Josh cleared his throat in disapproval.
“Listen… yes, it was initially Gabriel’s idea, but I’m not a fucking child and I dare say I know him better than you!”
It was the night of throwing daggers, apparently. The lady sitting at the nearest table on my right clicked her tongue, making me roll my eyes in annoyance. “Stop listening then!” I snapped back at her, ignoring the fact that we were in fact the loud ones. Josh laughed. He always did. Presumptuous little bastard. I couldn’t help but join in, grateful that it cleared the lingering tension between us at last. I also apologized. And then I once again assured him that I really wasn’t going to do that for them.
Or was I.
One thing that Josh and Gabriel have in common is that they just can’t drop the subject. At least not until they get what they want. They asked me again a week later. And then again. Eventually, they altered the strategy, making me believe that I won, only to strike with renewed forces.
It was a small dinner party at Sam’s house. We had a nice meal, a few… or more than a few drinks, and then some music was played. Just the usual shit.
The guys looked dazzling that evening. A bit overdressed for the occasion, but that was nothing unusual with the two of them, so no one batted an eye. “That’s a really cool jacket,” I giggled, admiring Josh’s newest addition to his wardrobe when the three of us went to the kitchen to refill our glasses. I ran my fingers down the rhinestoned ornament on his sleeve. Gabriel’s shirt decently sported a very similar one, though he always preferred just embroidery. “And I love how you too match, without it being over the top.”
“Oh yeah?” I noticed the fleeting look and the wink shared between them, but I paid it no mind. Not only because they both liked flattery so that was nothing unusual, but also because Josh’s hand between my shoulder blades was rather distracting in a way I would never openly admit. “Let’s take a picture then. I wanna send it to mom. She loves matching outfits.”
Again, nothing unusual. I took pictures at their parties pretty often. Sometimes it was just for me. Memories of precious days I wanted to keep.
“OK, strike a pose, you bastards!” I giggled again, already fumbling with my phone. They quickly wrapped their arms around each other and Josh grinned into the camera in his usual unserious way, but there was something in Gabe’s eyes and his soft smile that made me linger. As if the time suddenly slowed down. It was exactly what he wanted, and as I waited for the best moment to capture, he turned towards Josh, grabbed him by the jaw and kissed him with passion.
I gasped. It was a sight previously unseen. I had witnessed a few fleeting kisses before, I had seen them cuddling on the couch or stroking each other’s arms in passing, but never anything so heated.
They didn’t stop. They made me watch. Josh mirrored Gabriel’s movements when he ran fingers through the raven locks with eagerness and urgency that normally belonged behind their closed doors, and Gabriel hummed in appreciation. I realized I was holding my breath. The surrounding sounds of the living house around us dulled down, and all I could focus on through my sudden tunnel vision were their tongues playing together in a slow, sensual motion. It was at that moment when I realized they had deliberately orchestrated this to make me feel things. And it did. Just when I thought that it couldn’t get any worse, Josh moaned into Gabriel’s open mouth. I bit my lip, unsure whether to say something or just run away from the room and the situation I didn’t ask to be part of.
It was my unconscious choice to remain rooted on the spot, painfully aware of my panties getting wetter and wetter with each passing second. And just when Gabriel’s hand started moving downward towards the growing bulge between Josh’s legs, the embarrassment became unbearable. “Ok, STOP!” I suddenly bursted out. “What the fuck is this about?”
That was rhetorical. I knew exactly what the whole thing was about. My answer was still a no.
Those fuckers took their time, unlocking their lips with delighted smiles as if I wasn’t even there, and obviously enjoying those theatrics as much as I tried not to. “Ehrrm, so,” Josh cleared his throat when he finally dared to meet my eyes. “Did you catch that?”
“The fuck I did,” I hissed through clenched teeth and angrily threw the phone on the counter table behind me. “Why the fuck did you do that?”
“We do that all the time, baby,” Gabe chimed in and shrugged his shoulders with feigned innocence. He desperately tried to keep his poker face, but the corners of his mouth kept twitching. So did the vein on my temple. “It looks really good, doesn’t it? I mean, we. Doing… you know… I wish I had it printed on my w…”
“Fuck you!” I blurted out, pointing my finger at him menacingly before I jabbed Josh in the chest with it. “And fuck you, too!”
“Oh no, Darling, we want you to just…” But I was already storming out the door, while waving my middle finger at them.
If you already think that I couldn’t stay mad at them for long, you’re absolutely right. And if you wanna ask whether they tried again – yes, they did. And the reason why I’m telling this story in the first place should also be pretty obvious by now, because – yes, they eventually succeeded.
It so happened that one rainy day I found myself adjusting studio lights in Josh’s bedroom (without Mark’s help this time), all while questioning my life choices.
“Tequila?”
The sound of Josh’s voice coming seemingly out of nowhere made me jump, nearly knocking down one light stand. I was so nervous and so inside my head that I hadn’t heard him enter the room, already just in his silk bathrobe. “Sorry,” he mumbled and handed me the bottle which I readily accepted. I really needed a drink. Just let it burn my throat, and a few brain cells as well, baby. I gulped it down like a sailor, much to Josh’s amusement.
“Are you nervous?” I asked rather unnecessarily when I was done, because he looked like he was going to spend the afternoon by the swimming pool… rather than fucking his boyfrind right in front of me. And of course, the question made him giggle.
“No, not really, but it looks like you are.” And there was that hand again, stroking and gently squeezing my forearm as if he were afraid I was on the verge of fainting… which wasn’t that far from the truth, actually. I just didn’t want Josh to know. “Hey,” he added in a different tone that only assured me that he knew anyway. The hand now found my cheek, and I blessed his obliviousness. Josh obviously thought that running his thumb over my cheekbone and forcing me to look at him would somehow make it better, while the opposite was true.
He was the most beautiful like this, stripped of all the make up and trinkets. That’s when his eyes really shone. It made me feel almost sentimental, for the lack of more appropriate words. I managed to have all those sentiments under control most of the time, but this was a brand new territory, and my heart was suddenly skipping a beat at the thought of what was to come. Now the truth reared its ugly head, taking me by surprise at the least convenient moment. It’s just lust and hormones you bitch, I tried to reassure myself. You didn’t get any in a while.
Still mercifully clueless, Josh took the bottle from me and smiled encouragingly. “Just pretend you’re working for Discovery Channel.”
I tried to laugh, but it sounded more like something between a sniff and a huff, so I averted my eyes, pretending to be busy with my equipment again. “So, what’s the plan, exactly?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he chuckled. “Some kissing, hugging, heavy petting… my hair might not hold up. Oh, wait! Now I’m actually nervous.”
He finally managed to make me laugh. “I promise I’ll make you look lovely no matter what.”
“Aaahh, that’s why I love you, Darling.” Now the hand found my side. Right under my left boob, to be more exact. Fighting off the monster it kept awaking, I turned towards Josh with an ironic grin plastered on my face just when he tried to kiss my cheek, and our noses collided rather painfully.
“Ouch! Fuck! I’m gonna keep this here you buffoon.” I snatched the bottle back from him as he excused himself to go check on Gabriel, leaving me alone with more than one owie.
I checked the shutter speed and ISO settings one more time, because the tone of their skin messed with my previous adjustments a little bit. “Ok, I think I’m ready.”
And tipsy.
The bottle was already half empty by the time we all got set. Which means they were now both already stark naked and idly (and shamelessly) lounging on the bed in front of me. They assured me they were ready too… in fact, had been getting ready for the last half an hour in the other room to spare me some ‘less visually attractive and unnecessarily hindering details,’ as Gabried had put it. It was an information I could easily live without.
Assessing the view with just one eye open, I clasped my hands together. “Should I say… I don’t know… action, or something?” My voice cracked a little, and I really hoped they wouldn’t notice, which was really just wishful thinking. “No, that’s actually a bad idea…”
“You ok?”
“Yeah, Gabe, I assure you I’ve seen that thing before,” I snapped. That thing was already looking back at me, so I assessed they were both just politely waiting for my professional approval to start devouring each other. It felt awkward. What was I supposed to say? ‘Let the fucking commence?’
“Ok, guys,” I sighed. “Whenever you’re really ready. The key is to make all this look as genuine as possible. And natural. Take your time. Improvise. Just forget I’m here… please. And ignore the occasional flash.”
Photographers and cameramen are completely different creatures. You usually can’t escape the loud and commanding presence of the latter. We who capture still life memories prefer to be invisible. I always loved photography more exactly for this reason – because it feels more intimate in every way. The best camera is the one that’s unseen, and the same thing goes for the person who handles it. Everything was set to resemble their usual, private environment as much as possible. Their favorite scented candle was lit, some neutral background music was put on, and I stepped into the shadows behind the lights, focused solely on the viewfinder and waiting...
Soon I found my footing.
Without any specific instructions on my part, I let them take the reins. Their muffled conversation became a pleasant hum in my ears, and their bodies were just shapes of light and living matter that morphed into new visually pleasant compositions with each passing second. With a bit of luck, I would be able to go through the whole session treating every snapshot I took exactly this way. I call it ‘dissociated focus’.
The first photos were simply beautiful, which is easily done when the object’s full of love. At first I thought they really looked no different than some of my other clients. Serene and loving gazes you can find on good wedding portraits. Maybe just a bit more… primeval. They were both sitting on their heels facing each other and looking into each other’s eyes. It looked like the beginning of a ritual. I suspected it was vastly different from their usual foreplay, but they were the actors, the directors and the ones who were supposed to enjoy it, so I just let myself marvel at the magic of it.
I zoomed at Gabriel's palm gently caressing Josh’s bare chest. What a beautiful detail. Snap. Josh’s closed eyes and his head tilted slightly back, his lips parted as if in devotion – I’ve seen the sight many times before and always admired it. Snap. Many of my colleagues had photographed it in the past and I envied them. Now I took undoubtedly the best one. Now he raised his arms up and let Gabriel trace the outline of his sides. Snap, snap, snap.
The kiss that followed… I took quite a lot more pictures just of that first kiss, because I sensed that’s what they wanted when they took it slow, inviting me to capture every detail.
Their lips slightly parted, barely touching. Almost bashfully. The electricity was almost visible, the anticipation almost tangible. Snap.
Eyes closed one second – snap – only to lock them in an unfocused gaze a moment later when the tips of their tongues finally met. Sexy as hell. I quickly zoomed in again. Snap. Josh’s eyebrows scrunched together when the feeling intensified and he whimpered to let the other one know how good that shared proximity felt. Snap. A brief moment of vulnerability when they pressed their foreheads together. Snap.
This is art, I thought.
I was aware of the fact that the atmosphere would shift soon, but my confidence grew every time I pressed the button, and my heartbeat slowly returned to a normal rhythm as I focused on the details showing how their pulse gradually quickened.
I proceeded with surgical precision, careful not to miss any facet of their emotional responses to the physical touch.
Gabriel slowly pushed Josh on the pillows and bent down to pepper his heaving chest and exposed neck with kisses. He had been right; they really did look good like this. Divine.
They sounded even more so, and I had to squeeze my eyes shut for just a tiny second. Just to ground myself. It had been easy to remain calm when I could concentrate purely on the visual aspect of what was happening in front of me, but the moment their intimacies invaded my other, less professional senses, my heart betrayed me again.
I took a deep grounding breath and focused on the tiny droplets of sweat that had just formed on Josh’s chest out of pure excitement. They glistened under my spotlights with each intake of his breath just like the rhinestones on his jumpsuits.
They kissed again, fervently this time, moaning into each other’s mouths and gasping for air. Josh reached out to pull Gabe even closer and wrapped his legs around his lover’s hips. I tried to make the best of it, slowly realizing that doing so became increasingly harder with my camera attached to a tripod.
Almost as if he could read my mind, Josh suddenly stopped and frowned. “Wait!” he breathed out, looking first up at Gabriel and then at me. It alarmed us both, each one for different reasons.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” Gabriel whispered and stroked Josh’s cheek, trying to make him focus solely on himself. It made me feel like asking the same question would come out as extremely intrusive, even though I had probably every right to do so.
“Those lights… I just don’t like it. Doncha think it just looks… staged?” That belonged to me.
“Oh, fuck it!” Yes, he was completely right. I turned their bedroom into a fucking studio, completely ignoring the fact that it could erase the very essence of what they wanted me to capture. I wasn’t there to photograph porn stills, for fuck’s sake. I quickly slid the camera out of the tripod mount and switched off the lights. “You’re fucking right. I’m sorry. Light more candles.”
I feared this stupid intermezzo would completely ruin the mood and the magic they had been building, but it had to be done and thankfully, once more candles were lit and I readjusted my camera settings, they quickly went back to where they had started: slowly exploring each other’s bodies as if nothing else in the world actually mattered.
It probably didn’t. At least for a while.
I could no longer hide, though. I had to come closer and essentially invade the personal space of their bed. They didn’t mind, so I just had to convince myself to be okay with it as well.
Gabriel climbed up the bed and leaned against the headboard, pulling Josh in between his legs and letting him rest against his chest. “How does it look?” he asked me quietly.
What did he expect me to say? I wasn’t supposed to take any part in this, but my presence in the room suddenly became nauseatingly loud. They were both staring at me lazily, their naked bodies bathing in the candlelight and their faces already fucked out even though nothing had really happened yet.
Well, not in front of me, I quickly reminded myself.
Without breaking eye contact with me, Gabriel took Josh’s earlobe in between his teeth. His middle fingers quickly found Josh’s nipples and started drawing slow circles around them. The latter one just closed his eyes and, letting his head rest against Gabe’s shoulder, he let out a contented hum. Snap.
“It looks arousing,” I answered truthfully, done with their games.
“You should come closer.”
What a preposterous suggestion. I was already hovering above the foot of the bed, with one knee already on the mattress to keep balance, and I could feel my heart in my throat when Gabriel slid his right hand down Josh’s stomach and wrapped his fingers around his cock, which earned him a breathy whimper. Encouraged, Gabriel started pumping him slowly while his lips attacked Josh’s neck.
I almost whimpered too.
Josh’s eyes suddenly opened again and he looked right into mine. Snap. Another high-pitched moan escaped his parted lips. I couldn’t stand it. I lowered the lens, only to see the swollen tip of his dick in the viewfinger, already glistening with precum. Snap. It was without a doubt the most obscene photo I had ever taken.
“You really should come closer.” My eyes snapped back at the familiar sound and I saw Josh still watching me intently. My head was spinning.
“I can’t,” I whispered, but my deceitful body already moved on its own. I slowly put the camera aside and placed my palms down on the mattress, clumsily and reluctantly. I almost touched Josh’s foot.
“He’s been talking about that mouth for weeks.”
Gabriel’s words made the air in my lungs freeze. He continued stroking his lover’s dick all the way up and down and a few juicy profanities escaped Josh’s lips. It all seemed like a strange fever dream. My eyes started stinging with tears, although I couldn’t really explain why. It was all just overwhelming. “Did you… set me up?” I barely recognized my voice. There was hurt in it, but also something close to exhilaration. I realized I felt both. “You’re an asshole, Joshua Kiszka,” I whispered again, and he just closed his eyes and sighed.
“I guess… I, …am… but I swear, uh, we didn’t.”
“So what is this?” I barked at Gabriel, suddenly full of fiery defiance. My blood ran hot with it.
“I guess you would call it improvisation.”
Right…. RIGHT!
So Josh wanted me to suck his dick. And his boyfriend was ready to watch. I was no stranger to kinky shit, so if they wanted to play with fire they’d better get ready.
And god knows I really wanted to do that. To lick those shiny droplets off the slit… and then to choke on the size of him.
Without any further ado, I reached for the hem of my tee and pulled it over my head, instantly flashing them with my bare tits. I rarely wear a bra, because I can confidently say that I don’t really need it. I hoped they would at least appreciate them for their natural beauty, but the way they both sucked in breath encouraged me even more.
“Hold him,” I commanded Gabriel and immediately grinned at their vastly different reactions. Josh’s eyes popped out, but Gabe just grinned back with malicious glee.
“Oh, ma donna, me likey.” He grabbed Josh by the elbows and pulled his arms back, while I stood up right on that mattress to pull my shorts and panties down. I almost lost my balance, but it was worth it. If they wanted me to actively participate in this beautiful filthiness, it shouldn’t be just a one sided spectacle.
I quickly slid back down on my knees and playfully nudged at Josh’s knees to make him spread his legs a bit more for me. Why waste time? I licked a long stripe up his abdomen and chest before meeting his eyes up close this time. “So tell me, what were you imagining? I can do anything.”
For the second time in a few months, the cosmos raptured again, rendering this little blabbermouth speechless. I wasn’t interested in waiting for the reply anyway, already dying to have him in my mouth. “Just remember, both of you… ‘stop’ is the word. OK?”
I wanted to be sure, because unlike them, I had nothing to lose.
After getting the assurance, I slid further down and planted a soft kiss on his inner thigh before looking up for one last time. “Gabriel, do me a favor. Keep kissing his neck. I want him to lose his mind.” I was realistic enough to know that I couldn’t compete with the brunette in any way, time or space, so – already flattered by the sheer fact I had permission to make Josh feel good – I just wanted to make it unforgettable.
With all my senses alert, I planted another kiss on the same spot as before and simultaneously wrapped my fingers around Josh’s balls to knead them gently. He emitted a soft sigh and his things shook a little. It was good, it was indeed very satisfactory indeed, but I wanted him to squirm and beg for more. At least for once. I moved my parted lips slowly up his thigh and Josh suddenly moaned right before I reached the desired destination, just before I felt him run his fingers through my hair.
I tried to look up to confirm that Gabriel was no longer holding him. Instead he got back to rubbing and pinching his nipples. Good. I let go of Josh’s balls and sucked them in my mouth instead, relishing in the immediate, very vocal reaction.
He smelled so good. Like dried apricots with whipped cream. My desire to taste all of him grew stronger, so I let go of the soft mass with a playful pop and let my flattened tongue slide all he was up from the base to his leaking head. I planted a soft kiss there before darting my tongue out to finally get a taste of that salty nectar.
I could feel his fingers tremble on my scalp, but nothing more. A lot of the guys I had been with would already push me down, but Josh was a true gentleman. I wanted to reward him for it, so I took him fully in my mouth until he hit the back of my throat.
Josh cried out and his grip on my hair tightened. I loved it. Somewhere at the back of my head, I saw all three of us on that bed, with Josh sandwiched between us and completely at our mercy. Squirming and moaning with his eyes squeezed shut and his plump lower lips trembling. Too bad there was no one else to take the picture of it, because just the idea made me so wet I could feel it trickling down my thighs.
It would be a shame to let it all go to waste, I thought. I’m not greedy, just a little vain. As I kept bobbing my head up and down, my vanity led my hand to reach down and scoop that juice on my fingers before I reached up to push them rather unceremoniously in Josh’s mouth.
He understood immediately, wrapping his lips around them and sucking them deeper in. He was a natural, and for a split second I wished I had a dick.
“Shit, I need more of this,” Josh breathed out when he finally let go. I was more than willing to oblige, but then I heard a groan and someone suddenly grabbed my wrist, making me look up.
It was Gabriel, and I halted. Confused and worried, I let Josh’s cock slide from my mouth. I had completely forgotten about him and now I feared he may have had enough. “That’s not what he meant,” he said simply with that aloof grace that was both magnetic and intimidating.
It took me a while to realize what was going on. I straightened up a bit because I felt like an idiot looking at them in confusion on all four. There was the hand again, caressing my cheek like it had done earlier that day. I searched Josh’s eyes for an answer and he just smiled, before he straightened up a bit as well and pulled me in his arms.
I suddenly understood why their foreplay looked like a ballet. He was doing the same thing to me now, making me feel like a feather being blown around. Before I could make sense of it all, I was suddenly lying on my back with Josh hovering above me. “Remember, ‘stop’ is the word,” he repeated my previous words with a soft smile. I still didn’t understand, until I saw Gabriel behind him, already planting soft kisses on his back. “Darling… OK?” Josh repeated.
“Ok,” I breathed out at last and closed my eyes.
I shivered a bit when he started planting soft kisses along my clavicle, and then moving further down. The sensation was soft and steady at first, before his lips started to treble too just somewhere above my navel.
Somewhere behind him, I heard a bottle cap pop. So this is what we were doing, I thought still in disbelief. I didn’t know why I suddenly felt so sentimental about it, but it all just felt so good. There was no way I’d ever tell them to stop.
But Josh suddenly did, though he never really let go. He just rested his forehead against my inner thigh as his breath grew more and more heavy. I still didn’t dare open my eyes, still feeling a bit like an intruder, which was completely ridiculous as I lay there naked with Josh between my legs. His labored exhales slowly turned to moans and soon I heard another voice join him.
It made me feel completely lightheaded.
The hand ran down my thigh now, all the way down from my knee to my left buttock where he stopped and squeezed my flesh gently in a silent query. I could only nod.
His next kiss made me gasp. I knew it was coming, but it still felt too good to be true. He started with hesitant catlike licks, so I made sure to let him know with my next exhale how wonderful it felt. Fuck, I had never felt so sentimental about having my pussy eaten before.
I finally dared to open my eyes only to see his own peeking at me from under the mass of messy curls. He raised his eyebrows just a tad. Another silent question. Yes, I yearned for more of this from him and I brushed my fingertips gently over his forehead, hoping that was a good enough answer because I momentarily forgot how to speak. Josh closed his eyes and finally sucked my clit in his mouth. Behind him, Gabriel hovered over both of us with his head tilted back and his mind lost somewhere in his own growing pleasure.
Soon I was grasping at the sheets around me and arching my back as the room kept rocking and spinning.
Josh came first, briefly pausing so as not to hurt me. He let out a strangled cry and just his hot breath on my pussy was almost enough to send me over the edge as well.
“Josh, please…,” I found my voice again. “I don’t care if you bite me, just…”
Just. He had just enough time to envelop my bud with his lips and send waves of delightful spasms though my whole body before his own started to shake as Gabe quickened his pace.
As soon as I came back to Earth, I briefly looked around, only to see that a small stool with my camera on it was just within my reach, so I got a devilish idea. Snap.
I caught it this time. The most obscene photo I had ever taken.
I'm still using my old taglist, but I'm aware it should get updated, so if you want to be added or removed from it, just let me know.
characters -> Jake Kiszka x Elaine
word count -> 2.454
warnings -> 18+, vampires, blood. very low key.
a/n: i am so excited to finally dive into this story. i hope it enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it.
⌔⌔
For over two hundred years, Jacob has been living the life of a servant, butler, handy man, mechanic, groundskeeper, housekeeper–whatever it is you want to call it. He was content with the jobs he’s had, not once ever complaining. Though he wasn't your typical worker, of course. From 1825 he was the right hand man to many generations, passed down after each human’s death, beginning with the very first one.
Isaac Albany.
He brought on Jacob first as a groundskeeper, later on seeing him with more potential. Albany knew who Jacob was at that time, having witnessed him feeding on a young servant girl late one night when he thought he was alone. He didn't kill her, much to Albany’s surprise. Most, if not all, vampires feed to kill, draining their victims of their blood and life. Jacob, however, was one of the few who did not. He simply feeds to keep up his strength. He let the girl go after healing her flesh wound and clearing her memory of anything ever happening.
He stared at Albany for quite a moment that night. Blood slipped down the curve of his lips and the length of his chin. His eyes changed from blood red back to his normal, brown irises. From then on, the secret of Jacob’s true identity was confided within the family. No one spoke it, no one questioned it.
This went on for years after that. When Albany died, Jacob was given to the eldest son of each new generation. He worked whatever task was given to him without complaint. Jacob never minded. He enjoyed the work, regardless of what it was. He learned new skills, adding to his extensive knowledge and experience.
Generation after generation, he worked for the Albany family. Son after son after son and so on. That is until this last one. Walter Albany. He didn't have any sons, never had kids at all. Jacob was uncertain of his future when Walter passed on. That time was approaching quickly and when it did, Jacob was prepared to have to find his own place in the world. What he wasn't prepared for was to be given to a relative of Walter.
Jacob read the will, but he still couldn't believe it. Instead of putting the house up for sale, it was written to be given to his niece, Elaine. Jacob had never met her before. He knew nothing about her. She was never around for the holidays when the family all got together. Other nieces and nephews and cousins he had met before, but never once having met Elaine. She was Walter’s youngest brother's daughter. When Albert died, her mother took her away from here. Jacob never got the chance to meet her.
Now three weeks later, he’s preparing for her arrival by getting the house cleaned and in order. He could hear the car driving down the gravel driveway, coming closer and closer until it parked outside of the house. Stepping up to the curtains of the study, Jacob pulls one back ever so slightly to catch a glimpse of Elaine.
The car door of the driver’s side opens and a young woman climbs out. Her dark is braided back behind her head, falling a bit down her back. Reaching back into the car, she pulls out a heavy winter coat and slips it on, shivering slightly from the cold. As she turns to face the looming house behind her, Jacob disappears from the window and begins to make his way down to the front door.
Elaine couldn't believe this whole property was now hers. She still can’t believe it as she stares at it, looming over her like a dark cloud. According to history, this place has been a long standing fortress since the 1800s. Trudging up to the house, she pulls out her keys and finds the one to unlock the front door. She didn't even get a chance to stick the key into the lock when it began to open before her. Lifting her head and dropping her hand back to her side, her eyes met those of a young man. His hair hung in loose waves around his shoulders and framed the sides of his face. His eyes, brown with a hint of gold, lock with hers. They shift slightly as his face crinkles, rising up into a smile.
“You must be Elaine,” he says. “I hope you had safe travels getting here.” His voice sounded like silk, soft to the touch and wrapping around her with grace.
“Y-Yes..” She stammers.
He steps aside to allow her inside the house. “I’m Jacob, the caretaker of the property.”
“The lawyers mentioned you’d be here.”
He nods his head slowly and looks back at her with a softness to his gaze.
“I can’t believe my uncle left me this place and…you.”
“I’m not sure if you mean that in a good way or bad,” Jacob chuckles.
“Depends,” She says, watching him carefully. “I just met you.” She slid off her jacket and he was quick to take it from her, draping it over his arm and flashing her a warm smile. “Soo.. You just come with the house?”
“Yes,” He nods his head before moving to the other side of the foyer to pull open a closet door. He hangs up her coat and turns back to face her.
“And that’s just…normal?”
He smiles and again nods his head. “For me, at least. I’ve been here for a long time now.”
“Why didn't he just leave the house to you?”
Jacob then shakes his head, placing his arms behind his back. “He tried, as have others, but I prefer to just serve rather than own.”
“Hmph,” She looks him up and down slowly. “I got a mansion and a butler. Might take some time getting used to. So what else do you do around here?”
“Everything.” He says. “Come. I will show you to your living quarters.”
“Living..quarters. That’s…interesting.” She doesn't see him smiling, but he is indeed as he walks in front of her, leading up the grand stairwell.
“There are seven bedrooms, one library, one study–that I tend to hibernate in most times–and eight bathrooms.”
“Yeah.. Definitely an upgrade from a shitty one bedroom apartment.”
Jacob brings her down a hallway and stops in front of a pair of dark oak doors. “This is your private quarters.” He pushes open the doors and steps to the side. “I cleaned in here yesterday so everything’s dust free with clean bedding.”
“Where do you stay?” Elaine asks after looking around the room.
“There’s a little house in the woods outback.”
“You live in the woods?” Her tone had him smiling again.
“Your uncle was generous and had one built for me to live in while I worked here.”
“What does it look like?”
“Nothing like this,” He says, shaking his head. “But I like it. It’s cozy..”
“You said you do everything. What exactly does that mean?”
“I clean, I fix things, I can bring you things. I mow the lawn–”
“That’s a lot of lawn out there.”
He scoffs, smiling again. “But you name it, I can do it.”
“And you’re just here by yourself? No one else works here?”
“The occasional maid if I need extra hands, but other than that, it’s just me. Always has been. Would you like a tour of the rest of the house?”
⌔⌔
“This place is old..” Elaine says as they reenter the foyer. “Any ghosts?”
“I’ll admit that I have yet to come across one.” Jacob leans against the banister of the stairs and folds his arms over his chest. “Still want to own this place?”
“Maybe.. Why? Do you want it?”
Jacob smirks. “Kind of already do.”
“Oh right,” Elaine playfully rolls her eyes. “Because you work here.”
⌔⌔
While Jacob carried in Elaine’s bags to place in the foyer for the time being, his hearing caught on to the tail end of a conversation. Judging by the grainy voice she was speaking with, he could only assume that she was talking to someone on the phone.
“Is he cute?”
“Gorgeous..”
His lips curved up into a smile and he scoffs to himself retreating back outside to carry in the last couple of bags from her car. There would be a moving truck coming within the next few days to deliver some more of her things, but for now this was all she had brought with her.
He swiftly moved about, bringing her things upstairs all the while she made the tea downstairs in the kitchen. He was done and hanging out by the bottom of the stairs by the time she was coming out of the kitchen with a cup of steaming tea in her hand. She paused when she saw the foyer void and empty of all of her cluttered bags.
“You finished already?” She asked, quite surprised.
Jacob nods his head. “Of course. Anything else you’d like for me to do?”
“No, no I think I’m okay for the night.” Elaine places a barefoot on the first step of the staircase and glances back at Jacob. “Why don’t you go rest for the night? I think I can manage.”
“I would, but I should probably get started on cooking dinner for tonight. I was thinking about roast chicken and some cooked vegetables?” He inquires as his brows peak ever so slightly.
“He cooks too?”
Jacob’s lips twitch as he fights the urge to smile. Elaine chews on the inside of her lip as she looks at him curiously. “Only if you join me and not stand in the corner like an actual butler.”
This time Jacob allows himself to smile. “Of course, Miss Albany.” He starts to walk away when she calls out for him. He turns back to find her own brows raised.
“It’s Elaine to you.”
Jacob bows a little. “As you wish.. Elaine.”
Later Elaine was drawn downstairs by the smell of the food before Jacob even had a chance to come find her. Though he didn’t really eat human food, he pretended to keep up the facade that he was this normal person. He sat across from her at the dining room table. Neither one of them wanted to sit at the head of the table.
The room was quiet, save for the crackling of the fire in the hearth and the steady beat of her pulse. He sipped on his stash of blood that he snuck in while he cooked dinner. It was cold but it would satisfy him for the time being. Anything to keep him from wanting to sink his teeth into her instead.
No.
He couldn’t do that. He wouldn't. Elaine had no idea that he was a vampire. It may have been a family secret but she wasn’t one of them, having grown up separate from all of this. Why? He was sure he’d never know the answer unless she gave it to him willingly. So his true identity has to stay a secret. She couldn't know what he was out of fear of scaring her, making her afraid of him.
When they’d finished, he sent Elaine off to bed while he cleaned up the dining room and the kitchen.
Stepping out into the cold air of the night, Jacob follows the brick pathway out to his cabin in the woods. He glanced back at the house only momentarily. He found her standing there in the window of the bedroom. Her eyes landed on him and she smiled faintly, giving him a gentle wave. He returned the gesture and disappeared into the darkness of the trees.
⌔⌔
By morning, Elaine woke up to a soft knock on her bedroom. Climbing out of bed, she goes to open the door expecting to find Jacob standing there on the other side. Instead she finds a tray of freshly baked pastries and a cup of coffee waiting for her on the floor by her feet. She looked down both ends of the hallway but saw no sign of Jacob. Carefully she picks up the tray and carries it back into her room, kicking the door closed with her heel.
Jacob had to admit she was by far the most interesting relative he’s worked for. Normally they’d eat breakfast quietly in the morning, either reading a novel or the morning’s newspaper.
Elaine?
A shower and music loudly playing. He could hear her feet padding against the floor in a rhythmic pattern. She must be dancing.
He tunes out his hearing and refocuses on the task in front of him.
Hunting.
His prey stands just a few yards away from him, unsuspecting of his presence. The blood courses through their veins quickly. Within seconds he was pouncing on them, holding them tightly against his body and sinking his teeth into their neck. He keeps his hand pressed firmly against their mouth to muffle their screams.
Hikers were his favorite to feed on. Their adrenaline pumping the blood made it that more delicious and worth the struggle they put up to rid themselves of his terror.
Getting his fill, he heals the wound on their neck and wipes their memory clean of this moment ever happening. Leaving the exhausted hiker alone, he trudges back through the woods towards the house and cleans off the blood from his lower lip. Stepping through the back door leading into the kitchen, he finds Elaine standing at the sink with her hands plunged into soapy water.
“I can do that.” He says, making her jump with fright.
“Good god.. Don’t you ever sneak up on a person like that.”
Jacob smiles and leans against the threshold. “I’m sorry.”
“Your smile says either wise.”
“My job is to clean. I could have done that if you had asked.”
“I’m still getting used to all of this, Jacob. It’s only been twelve hours.”
“Let me finish.” He says as he walks up to the sink and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt.
Elaine breathes a huff and pulls her hands out of the water. “Soo.. What exactly does one do around here?” She asks.
“You should go check out the library.” Jacob grabs a mug and runs the sponge over it. “They’ve built the collection over the years, you might find some pretty nice editions of the classics.”
“Any suggestions?” Elaine asks as she dries off her hands.
“Dracula.” He says, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. “Perfect the season.”
“I’ve never read Dracula before.”
“Never?”
Elaine shakes her head. “I know the legend and the myth, but I’ve never actually read the book.”
“Give it a try. You might like it. One of my favorites.”
Hey guys! Long time, no see. After figuring some things out, arriving back home from traveling, and getting back on track, the first chapter of Inheritance will yours on Thursday ❤️⌔⌔
Well what I intended to be a three piece project has turned into a bit of a series. Full transparency I have no intentions with this other than to just have fun so updates will probably be far and few. Toodles
Pairings: Josh Kiszka X fem reader, Jake Kiszka X fem reader
Warnings and tags: 18+ only, adult themes including: anxiety, sexual situations, talk about loss and death, guilt, crying, comfort, some drinking, talk about past trauma, past relationships, mentions of mental illness, talk about sexuality, some jealously, there is a brief scene in which the twins are both involved in a sexual situation (its a dream)
Word count: 6.2k
**A/N: I don’t typically write y/n stories because I always try to form very well rounded characters in my stories and it can be hard to remain inclusive when writing reader insert. That being said, this story is still a work of fiction and I do not presume to know what anyone’s sexual preferences are.
It took Josh a few minutes to get you calmed down enough to agree to join him in the van. At first you figured it would be best if you found somewhere to stay for the night. Somewhere far, far away from him and his brother… Josh wouldn’t hear it though.
You didn’t give a lot of details about why you had been so distraught when he found you, and he didn’t ask. Only tried to console you which made you feel even worse about everything that had happened. How exactly were you supposed to tell him that the reason your eyes were so puffy was because you were crying over Jake? In every possible way you played that conversation out in your head it didn’t go over well.
Instead you clutched your phone to your chest as you followed him back around to the pick up area. The rest of the band was already waiting in the van, ready to get to the hotel for showers and a comfortable bed to sleep in for the night until it was back to the bunks for the next show in another bustling city. If they weren’t all dead tired then maybe it might have been more of a spectacle to see the door sliding back open and Josh stepping in with you behind. In reality everyone was just relieved he had finally made it back so they could go.
They’d left the front seat open. Danny was sprawled out in the back with a jacket thrown over his face. Sam sat next to the window, he was FaceTiming his dog sitter so he didn’t pay any mind, and Jake sat next to him trying to look anywhere but at you or Josh as you settled in and the van pulled onto the street.
The highway came quickly, and you counted your breaths as a distraction to control your anxiety. Josh must’ve noticed, because he reached over and took your hand in his. You glanced over at him and smiled. It was a sweet gesture and it did provide you some comfort, at least until your eyes shifted and caught Jake’s stare from the rearview mirror.
It wouldn’t have bothered you so much if he’d looked away, if he’d at least pretend to be as upset about what had happened as you were, but he held your gaze like he’d been waiting for you to see him watching. Waiting for you to search for him too.
You shifted in your seat, pulling your hand from Josh’s and setting it back in your lap. For the rest of the ride you watched your feet, keeping your head down and reflecting over how you’d ended up in this situation.
From the van everyone filed into the hotel. The tour manager handed out the room keys, everyone’s suitcases including yours, were already stacked onto a luggage cart ready to be carried up to the correct floor. You stood back, unsure of their routine and not wanting to get in the way when you noticed Josh speaking with the manager in a rather frustrated way.
“Is everything alright?” You questioned when he turned back to you, a clear look of defeat easily read in his expression even through the remnants of smeared makeup.
Josh sighed, grabbing his bag and your small carryon suitcase you’d been instructed to leave with the driver who picked you up from the airport. “There’s a mix up with the rooms. They couldn’t find your reservation, I guess it didn’t get approved with the agency in time so they filled it and now they’re saying there’s nothing available”.
“Oh…” your voice trailed off. It sounded like you needed to find somewhere to stay after all. It wasn’t even that big of a deal to you, but if you’d only known sooner it would’ve saved you from a very uncomfortable ride over here.
Josh tried to hand over the keycard, “Please, take my room. I’ll stay with Jake”.
The mere mention of his name made your face flush uncomfortably. “Oh no, I can’t make you do that! I’m sure there’s another hotel somewhere around here with an available room”.
“It’s past midnight, and it’s LA. Even if you did find something it’ll be costly. I invited you here, I’m going to make sure you’re taken care of”. Josh didn’t even sound like he was arguing the point. His resolve was strong and if you knew him as well as you thought you did then it was obvious there was no changing his mind here.
You bit your lip, afraid to say the real reason why you couldn’t let him stay in Jake’s room tonight. Had he even asked Jake if it was okay to stay in his room? Sure they were brothers, but after the events of the night you were sure Jake wanted the space to himself. “Can I just stay with you?”
That was a bad idea from the moment it fell from your lips, but Josh’s face lightened up just a little bit at the request. “Are you okay with that?” He questioned in response, “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable”.
Well that ship had already sailed, but at this point there wasn’t much for you to do but get some rest. You followed Josh to the elevator, keeping your distance as the little digital number for each floor continued to climb. Thankfully everyone else had already made it up and into their rooms by the time you arrived and he set your bag aside by the door so he could scan the keycard.
The room was nice, nicer than most hotel rooms you stayed in and certainly out of your budget. It wasn’t big though, only a small desk next to a dresser with a TV mounted above it and a lounge chair that sat in the corner facing the king size bed.
“Would you like to shower?” Josh asked once you both found a spot to stand and observe each other, trying to keep the awkwardness to a minimum. It was failing miserably.
“I definitely need one,” you admit, cringing when thinking about all the germs picked up at the airport and the venue. “But you can go first. I'm sure you need one just as bad”.
Josh cocked an eyebrow. “Are you saying I stink?” He chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.
“No! I’m just saying I don’t want to mess up your routine or whatever!” It was getting increasingly harder to not seem suspicious. Josh could tell there was something up with you but he just couldn’t bring himself to ask. Or maybe he was afraid to?
“Alright, alright” he dropped the joke and started to unpack the overnight essentials out of his bag. “But I won’t subject you to the whole routine. I’m usually up for a couple of hours after a show trying to wind down”.
“Really?” You moved to sit in the chair, making yourself comfortable until it would be your turn to get clean and change. It would be a lie if you said that you didn’t think about how you had made the right choice to pack something modest to wear to bed. “I would’ve thought you’d be ready to get to bed and rest?”
“That would be nice” Josh scoffed, like the idea of being able to rest while on the road was too far fetched an idea for him to comprehend. “Maybe tonight I’ll give it a try”.
While Josh showered you made your way around the room. First it started with getting your things ready, plugging your phone charger into the wall next to the bed, and setting out your pajamas. Then it turned into full blown pacing until you heard the shower stop and eventually the door pull open.
You stood back up, acting like you hadn’t just dart across the room to throw yourself back into the chair. “You save me some hot water?”
Josh smiled as he towel dried his hair. The joke made him hopeful that you were starting to feel better, but he still kept his distance and allowed you a turn.
In the shower you were finally allowed a moment to fall apart again. The hot water washed away the rest of your tears and by the end of it you came to realize that you couldn’t avoid your shame any longer.
Most of the lamps were turned off when you exited the bathroom. Josh was already in the bed, making true on his word to try and turn in early. You felt anxious all over again, a voice in your head telling you to just leave it alone. He was tired, you both needed sleep, but you knew it would be better to clear the air before getting into bed with him.
“Umm,” your voice sounded too soft, weak, but he stirred and moved to sit up. “I think we need to talk”.
Josh pulled the covers back, exposing a large portion of the bed and patted the open spot next to him. “Come sit, we can talk about anything you want to”.
You stood with your arms crossed over your chest, defensive, your heart rate already elevated. “I’m not sure if that’s the best idea”.
Confusion flashed across his face for a moment, but then he took a closer look at your body language and began jumping to conclusions. “Listen,” he started, deciding to say his piece first before he even truly knew what it was you wanted to talk about. “I like you. I think you’re a great person and it’s been a pleasure getting to know you better over these past few months, but I’m still trying to figure out some things myself and umm…” Josh paused, his eyebrows pinching together as he picked at a piece of fuzz sticking to the stark white sheets. “I don’t want you to think that I’m not at all interested, but I promise despite what it may look like now, it really wasn’t my intention to get you here and force you into anything. If you want the room I really can go somewhere else”.
Although you’d heard everything he had said you were caught up on his confession. The rest came in garbled bits that your brain tried frantically to piece together while still trying to process. It felt like a stab to your chest, because you liked him too but you weren’t sure if what you felt for him was as strong as this other feeling that kept pulling at your insides. “No Josh it’s not that, I’m not questioning your intentions. Actually it’s the opposite. I guess I’m questioning mine”.
He certainly wasn’t expecting you to say something like that. In his profession Josh knew to be careful around new people. He’d had training to learn how to protect himself from the psychos and stalkers, but he’d never felt like he had anything to worry about with you.
You sighed and tried to relax, toeing over to the bed and taking a seat against the edge facing away from him. It would be easier to say what you needed to say without having to look him in the eyes. “I may have gotten involved with someone else. It wasn’t on purpose, and frankly I’m not sure I even know why but I…”
Your voice trailed off as you tried to compile your thoughts and before you knew it Josh was leaning over and placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. A gesture he’d made a dozen times and yet you wondered how he could show you so much kindness right now. “I’m developing feelings for him, Josh. I don’t know what to do”. You put your head in your hands and in some way it felt like you were back at home talking to him over the phone.
“For who?” When you didn’t budge he pulled closer, trying to get a look at you because frankly you were scaring him. “You can tell me” he pushed a little harder.
“Jake” the name was bitter on your tongue and it fell from your lips like a dirty crumb. You felt like a terrible friend for leaning on him about this, for revealing your feelings for none other than his brother. Even then, at the same time your heart thumped hard at the mere thought of the man in mention.
The warm hand on your back retreated but Josh remained sat behind you. “Oh,” he uttered simply, not without a hint of hurt. “I guess that makes sense”.
You pulled your head from your hands, glancing over your shoulder. “What do you mean?”
“Jake, he’s asked about you sometimes” Josh began. He was calm, not at all the reaction you thought you would get, but also surprisingly sincere. “After our phone calls, or when he knew you had been over. I tried not to think much of it, but then again maybe I was just trying to not start anything again”.
Josh sighed heavily, something seemed to have struck a nerve.
“You two have been fighting?”
“I wouldn’t call it that. More like a long feud we’ve learned to live with”. Josh stood from the bed and you watched quietly as he approached the mini fridge. Inside it was fully stocked with juices, fancy expensive water, the little bottles of liquor. Josh grabbed some whiskey and began to brew some instant coffee. He offered you some but you declined, your nerves had already made you jittery enough.
“Back home there was this girl,” Josh began once he had a cup in his hand. Now that you weren’t actively resisting a panic attack you found yourself getting more comfortable on the bed. He rejoined you, and you both faced each other sitting cross legged as he told his story.
“Sweet girl, we’d known her nearly our whole lives, went to church with us. Her family sat behind ours. I always thought she hated us because three boys shoved between their mom and dad in a pew? Yeah we were never very well behaved”. He smiled as he spoke, fond moments he had tried for a long time to stifle surfacing to the front of his memory like no time had passed at all. “She went to a different school until her parents got a divorce and she moved across town, right down the street from us. Then we started seeing her around a lot. She was in my algebra classes, always helped me with my homework before home period, and she played clarinet in jazz band with Jake. He invited her to junior prom but she turned him down for a guy on the football team. Jake was so upset about it that he didn’t go. We were in the middle of writing some music for a recording gig coming up so he used that as an excuse to stay home with Sam. I went though, and when her date turned out to be a total loser we spent the whole night together talking and dancing. By next Monday we were inseparable”.
“In the beginning it caused a lot of fights between Jake and I. He said it was unfair because I knew he liked her first. I told him that she wasn’t a prize to claim dibs on. Eventually Jake just gave up. He started seeing lots of girls but was never really serious with any of them. The only thing he was serious about was the music. When we graduated she put off going to college for a semester so she could tour with us - with me. Things got crazier than ever before. I mean at that time we were just starting to realize that we were making it, signing deals, adding more shows, it was a lot to keep up with and we couldn’t stop if we wanted the momentum to keep growing. I didn’t give her as much attention then as I should have. I didn’t even know she’d been accepted into Cornell until we were back at home on a break and she was packing up her bedroom. I loved her, really did, we were each other's firsts for just about everything, and I’ll never be able to remind her of that”.
“What happened between you two?”
“We stayed in touch when she moved to New York, but distance at that age can be hard. She met someone else there, after I broke things off. I was learning some things about myself, about my sexuality that I felt like I needed to go through alone. At the end of it I’m the idiot still trying to define myself and she’s-”
Josh fought off the knot in his throat, tossing his head back and finishing the rest of the room-temperature coffee that had cooled as he spoke. You could tell it was getting more and more difficult for him to recount these events but even then you didn’t expect the ending.
“In six months she was engaged, they were traveling back home to tell her parents when they got caught in a storm. A semi-truck lost traction on the highway and hit them head on. They both died instantly”.
That was the final blow that cracked your heart in two. You threw your arms around Josh’s torso and pulled him into a hug apologizing for everything. For coming here and causing problems, for making him relive that trauma, for getting between him and Jake again.
“If Jake had just gone to that stupid dance anyways he probably would’ve been there for her. They probably would’ve ended up together, happy, and all the stupid stuff I did in the end to hurt her, to push her away, she could still be here with us. She never should have ended up with me, I’m messed up and I blew it and she will never know how sorry I am”.
“She knew” you kept him pressed against your chest, your sleeve feeling damp from where he rested his cheek on your shoulder. “I’m sure she knew. Whatever it is, whatever you did, I’m sure she’s forgiven you”.
Josh sobbed against you and you could feel his body give out. Like he’d been holding onto all that guilt and fear for so long that it had manifested itself in an ache in his muscles. He took a moment to pull himself back together, looking away as he rubbed his eyes red with the back of his hand to try and dry them. “So much for an early night huh?”
You smiled softly at him, so relieved that you were both able to talk about this and not end up losing a friend.
“You should give it another shot with Jake. He can be an asshole sometimes, play like he doesn’t catch feelings, but I’m telling you on the inside he’s a hopeless romantic dying to smother some poor girl with all his affection”.
Apparently that poor helpless girl was you.
You took to chewing your lip again. “I don’t know. I said something really mean to him. He might not want to forgive me just yet”.
“Come with us to Vegas tomorrow”.
“What?”
The light started to return to Josh’s eyes as he sat back up and began rambling. Maybe coffee and whiskey wasn’t the best choice. “It’s the last show on this stint of the tour, you have to see him before then. Jake was talking about going away during this break and he won’t tell any of us where. If you don’t get through to him before then who knows what could happen”.
“Wait, hold on a second” you stopped him right there before his idea could sprout into a full fledged plot to get you two together. “Please don’t say or do anything. I was serious when I told you I said something really mean to him. He probably doesn’t want to hear from me ever again”.
“I don’t care if he kicks and screams and throws a tantrum when you try to talk to him, you have to make it right. Please, I took someone special away from him already”. Josh took your hand in his, like he was pleading for you to help. “You’ve been such a pleasure, if there’s anyone who can win him over it’s you. I know because you’ve already won me”.
The reality of the situation sunk back in and it settled thick in the air surrounding the both of you. His thumb brushed back and forth against your wrists and he turned away like he was suddenly growing shy. “What about you?” Your voice was back to a mere whisper, caution returning.
Josh cracked a soft smile, shaking his head while his chest puffed out with breath and deflated with defeat. “I can’t say that I won’t be a little jealous, but I have the foresight now to know it’s not always about me”.
“I don’t know” you pulled away, trying to shrink back into yourself. Meeting and befriending Josh had already been like living in a dream and now you had two brothers vying for your attention. Although you were confident enough to know you were a catch it was still hard to process in real time. “I don’t want to hurt anybody”.
“That’s life. You can’t bottle away your feelings because of someone else. Everyone is entitled to their own emotions, and besides, my happiness comes from knowing my loved ones are equally happy and fulfilled”.
Josh could tell by the way you chewed your lip that you were still hesitant, but he wasn’t ready to back down so soon. “Why don’t we get some sleep? In the morning if you decide you want to go home I’ll have someone take you to the airport to make your flight”.
Sleep did sound appealing. All this crying and talking had exhausted you enough to agree that any decision you made right now could be faulty. And yet your mind was still running in circles. “And if I don’t?”
A cheeky hint of a smile returned to Josh’s face, but he forced it away. “The bus leaves at eight in the morning”.
“Have you been thinking about me?” Jake questioned, his voice like a serpent slithering its way through your ear canal dropping endorphins on its way to your head as he pressed warm, wet kisses against your throat.
“No” You panted but your body betrayed your words by arching off the bed, searching for his. You found nothing.
“Liar”. His voice was just a whisper now, distant.
“What about me?” You turned your head and lying next to you was Josh, smiling, his eyes hungry as he watched you writhe.
“Josh…” His name fell from your lips like a secret and he answered the call with his lips to yours. The kiss was familiar, slow, and comforting.
“Haven’t I told you not to play with my things?” Jake spoke to his brother now. The voice was coming from behind you.
“Don’t be greedy” Josh broke the kiss to counter him. “There’s plenty of her to go around. Isn’t there, doll?”
Play thing? Doll? You thought to yourself. Who the hell did they think you were?
“Stop fighting” you demanded, trying to assert yourself as the one in charge here. “Or neither of you will get anything”.
There was a pause as the both of them silently calculated their next moves. Josh was the first to break. “Yes ma’am” he uttered as he slid closer to you. His hand reached over and cupped your breast through your thin, cotton sleep shirt. You let out a soft moan and then there were more hands on you.
Now you felt him behind you, gripping your hip as he pressed up against you hot and heavy. “Who’s the greedy one now?” He was back at your ear, the tip of his nose raising goosebumps as it traced along your skin.
You woke in a sweat and could already feel the wetness pooling between your legs. The darkness was jarring at first, but when your eyes began to adjust you saw Josh sprawled out on the bed next to you, still sound asleep. His mouth was slightly open but he was quiet, all but his steady breathing as his chest rose and fell underneath the covers.
Thank god he’s finally getting some sleep. At some point during the night you remembered crawling into the bed with him after your talk. The bedside lamps had still been on, and you were listening to him tell more stories like you usually would. Sleep must’ve taken you quickly.
If only you could say the same now. You were wide awake.
Rolling over onto your other side (definitely not telling yourself that there was no way Jake would be there) you found your cellphone left sitting on the table and checked the time. 5:48. Sighing you noticed how your battery was also at a very low percent, stupid charger.
Carefully so as to not wake Josh, you slid from the bed and stood slowly. It took a moment of fidgeting to get the plug just right so that the little lightning bolt at the top of the screen came on. Got to get a new one you told yourself as you moved across the room over to where you’d left your bag. Pulling out a pair of jeans you slipped into the bathroom and changed before finding your shoes.
As an afterthought, more so to protect yourself from the cold than being concerned about anyone seeing you walking the halls at this hour without a bra on, you grabbed the jacket at the bottom of your bag. Next you stuffed your wallet and the extra key card Josh had left on the desk into the pocket of the jacket. Just in case something from the vending machine looked particularly appetizing. Then you left the room. Right as your stomach started to growl you found relief in a bag of cheese-its and a payday bar. Nothing like some carbs and candy for breakfast.
Despite the early hour, the hotel was much busier than you expected. Men and women dressed in suits and pencil skirts hurried past you down the hallways, their travel bags rolling behind them as they jammed elevator buttons and furiously sipped coffee from the eight ounce paper cups the hotel rooms offered.
You found your way down to the floor level and noticed that there was a small courtyard sheltered with shrubs that offered some faded cushioned patio furniture. Deciding that place would be a peaceful spot to eat your snacks and watch the sunrise, you pushed the door open thinking that you would be the only one out here. Wrong you were.
The smell of cigarette smoke hit you first, clueing you in as you walked further outside. The courtyard came into view and sitting in one of the chairs near an exit gate to the parking lot sat none other than Jake. You halted your steps, unsure if you should still be here, but he didn’t look upset to see you.
“Has anyone ever told you those are bad for you?”
He smirked and leaned over to snuff the end out against the uneven brick even though he was almost finished. “I quit a long time ago” he replied matter-of-factly. “Only ever crave one when I’m around you”.
That didn’t sound fair. How were you supposed to know that he was out here? You searched your brain for something snarky to say back to him, but although sleep was far from possible that didn’t mean you weren’t too tired to function right now. Instead you sat down a couple of chairs away from him.
“Can’t sleep?” He asked the next question.
Shaking your head from left to right was the best response you could manage to give him.
”Me either” he sighed, looking content to remain sitting even with you joining him. That was a good sign.
You ate your cheesy snacks, keeping your candy bar hidden in your jacket pocket, and Jake tried to pretend like he wasn’t watching.
“I see you kept the jacket”.
The munching sounds stopped as you willed your face to not burn. Of course he remembered giving it to you. “I thought it was fitting to bring it along”. That was a safe answer you decided.
Now with a little bit of food in you some energy was slowly starting to return just as the first colors of daylight were beginning to shine above the bushes. You swallowed your last bite, wishing that you had gone ahead and bought a bottle of water to wash it down with, and gathered the courage to speak. This had to be your chance to say something, do something, apologize. “About earlier…” Your voice broke revealing how nervous you suddenly were.
“Don’t worry about it” Jake tried to save you the trouble by brushing what had happened in the dressing room off. Like it wasn’t the same thing that had been keeping him up as well.
“No” You pushed, holding your ground. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said what I did and I regret it the moment it happened”.
He met your gaze, the pastel colors spreading behind him in beaming light. It was beautiful. Suddenly you found yourself feeling rather reflective and the words came spilling from you as if he had opened you up like a book with one gentle, tired look.
“You know I used to think that I had everything all figured out. I took a year off after high school to travel. I wanted to see the world, make memories, experience life, discover myself. That was until I met Nicholas. We fell in love fast. I'd never been so head over heels for a boy before, but he was cute and he came from a very wealthy family and he spoiled me. We spent the next summer in Europe, getting to know each other, talking about our dreams, making plans, making love”. You were a little embarrassed to admit that last part, but it was true and you were trying to be honest right now. “When we came home his family helped pay for my college tuition. I decided early on that I wanted to be a designer. Nick didn’t care much, he was two years ahead of me and working toward his finance degree anyway so I was allowed to pursue whatever I wanted. He got a job at his father’s company, of course. I thought I’d hit the jackpot, at least until he started micromanaging me. He would call me all hours of the day whether I was in class or not. When I started getting deep into my design program he started to pressure me into changing my mind, even suggested that I just drop out. That made me mad. I didn’t want to rely on his parents' money our whole lives but he didn’t care what I thought. When I finally graduated we threw a small party to celebrate. I remember thinking finally they’re proud of me but then he stood me up in front of everybody and got down on one knee…”
“I knew in that moment that it would never be about me. He was a narcissist that would always find a way to make everything about him. After completely humiliating myself I packed my things and went home, but I knew at my age that I couldn’t just move back in with my parents so I found the first decently paying job I could and landed in Nashville. Eight months later I read about the boutique and took a shot in the dark, now here I am just trying to carve my path and make it in this twisted, backwards world on my own”.
Jake listened while you talked, his eyes widening with surprise when he heard that you’d nearly been engaged. He also looked like he was angry, pissed off at a man he’d never met before only when learning of the few things he had done to hurt you. Josh had heard more, he’d cursed and rued the day he ever crossed paths with Nicholas. Not that it would ever happen. Although even he hadn’t heard the full story. Most of that you kept locked away, using it as fuel to do better, be better.
As you recalled that part of your life some things started to click. You began to realize that maybe the way you had reacted to Jake in the dressing room was an unconscious response to the situation. Not that it was an excuse for saying what you did, but Josh had been impressing on you that just because someone didn’t physically hurt you, or you weren’t aware of it at the time, didn’t mean that you didn’t suffer some sort of abuse at the hands of your ex.
“I think that’s why I’m so appreciative of Josh” More of your thoughts started to spring free. “To have met someone who is so encouraging of my work, and appreciative, and inclusive. It’s refreshing to say the least”.
There were many ways Jake could have taken your compliment toward his brother. In light of how the two of you had parted last he very easily could have gotten angry again, but instead Jake smiled. Besides, if there was anyone who truly knew how bright his brother was, it was him. “Inclusive you say. In more ways than one”.
That comment sparked your attention and you cocked a brow going quiet now so that he would elaborate.
“I’ve known for a while, but he’s getting around to feeling more comfortable telling others, I mean if he hasn’t already told you”.
He hadn’t, but you could see where this was going.
“Josh likes men and women” Jake disclosed only because he had faith you wouldn’t go around gossiping about him behind their back. It didn’t come as a surprise to you, and you didn’t care. Josh loved love, that was obvious after one hour of getting to know him. He had so much to give, it only made sense that he didn’t pick and choose who he gave it to.
Since he brought it up you felt like it was okay territory to ask Jake what his preferences were. “And you?”
“I don’t identify as anything other than straight” he felt comfortable enough to answer, “but I do have this friend that given the chance I wouldn’t say no. He’s got a beautiful loving wife and kids though, so I’m satisfied being his musical lover”.
“His music wife” you chuckled and Jake grinned sheepishly.
“Well?” He pushed. Now that he had shared his, he was waiting for you to add yours.
“I mean there were always those times in college, but no I suppose I’m straight”. He looked satisfied enough with that so you added a little “for now” at the end. Just to be a tease.
“Now I’m interested in hearing about ‘those times in college’” Jake teased back, though not actually thinking you would spill so easily.
“My roommate and I got super close pretty quickly” you shrugged. “I would get all the invites to the big frat parties because of Nick. “Tequila, blunts, and my bestie always spelled a recipe for disaster”.
Jake smiled in amusement and turned back toward the morning sky. The sun would be up soon and it would officially be tomorrow. Not too long ago you were dreading tomorrow, and yet now you felt like there was hope on the horizon.
“At the beginning of sophomore year she started to act strange. She stopped going to a few classes, wouldn’t come hang out or study with us anymore. We had moved into an apartment near campus together so I was the only one who saw how bad she had really gotten. We used to stay up all night talking to each other, but all of a sudden she couldn’t focus on one topic for long. And she was getting so paranoid, wouldn’t allow Nick over to visit me because she was terrified of him. I finally forced her to go see the doctor, drove her up to the hospital myself. They admitted her after hours of testing but the doctors wouldn't tell me anything until her parents got there. She was taken to the psychiatric floor and diagnosed with schizophrenia”. You pulled your legs up, resting the heels of your feet on the edge of the chair and wrapping your arms around your knees. “Nothing prepares you for losing a friend so suddenly like that”.
As you spoke you watched Jake’s face, still facing the light, his stare far and contemplative. “Believe me, I get it” he muttered, his own memories flooding his vision to the point he had to close his eyes and focus on breathing.
“Our manager will be making rounds on the rooms soon. Better not give her a heart attack” he stood slowly, regarding the salmon colored sky once more before turning to head back inside.
After everything you had shared you still wanted a moment out here to yourself, so you stayed seated while he walked towards the door back into the hotel. Jake stopped at your chair first, his fingertips brushing against your cheek as he reached over. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head and then he was gone, nothing but the faint smell of cigarette smoke mixing with morning dew.
A/n: This is a new series I’m working on!!!!! This one will be finished pretty quickly most likely because I just absolutely fell in love with this idea. I hope you guys love it as much as I do!!!! Yay!
Disclaimer! This is a work of fiction, I do not own any characters in here, Josh is a real person and this is purely a perception, not reality. Thank you.
Summary: Josh Kiszka was a star inside college as much as he was outside. In geo distinctive ways. From front man to lead male role, he’s thriving. But with his tendency to be late to rehearsal and dampen plans, you, the stage manager, grow a deep dislike for him. Is it because of the ego he seems to have, or is it that beautiful smile? Regardless, when the final musical approaches of both your senior years and the lead actress falls terribly ill, you’re the only one who knows the part well enough to fill in for her. Which means you’ll have to intimately coordinate with the very guy who gets under your skin so much. Perhaps when your roles calls for a very steamy stage kiss and smutty scene, he’s not so bad after all.
Warning: Maybe a corny concept but its fun so idk. Nothing really bad yet. Not proofed.
W/C: 2.4k
Enjoy!!!
Your senior year in college could not have possibly been going any better.
You'd been freed from a piss poor relationship for the better half of the year, you’d been set up to graduate top ten in your class despite your “eccentric” degree, and you’d finally landed your continuously strived for the role of stage manager for your college theater troupe.
The group itself was something of wonders, and it should have been. You were in an arts school after all. The equally talented as they were arrogant and ego-filled students in the cast of a rendition of Romeo and Juliet being put on for the fall were all nothing short of spectacular actors and actresses, despite the occasional difficulties in the work aspect of the stage.
You’ve been involved in theater since freshman year of High School, being introduced to the prevalent art of drama through a production of Annie, where you’d been a stage hand. Looking back on it now, standing stage right, watching two beautiful upperclassman sing “Easy Street” sealed your passion for the extracurricular, so it only made sense that you stuck with it throughout the rest of your high school career, finally landing the stage manager role junior and senior year before applying and getting accepted into your dream school in Nashville. Where of which you had been knocked all the way back down the techie ladder freshman year of college.
Your collegiate director, Mr. Tris, however, saw the potential that you possessed, making you jump from every possible job in the book to widen your knowledge before sticking you with the final and ultimate prize, your role as stage manager for the entire school year. It was your debut show and you’d never felt more prepared for anything in your whole life.
You remembered the phone call from the previous July like it was yesterday…
It was HOT.
The Tennessee summer heat did not take it easy on college kids with summer jobs, and it didn’t help that the place of employment for you was a glorified solar panel.
You got a job at a greenhouse a few blocks away from your modest one bedroom apartment that you’d saved for throughout the last year. Originally intending to share it with your recently-departed-from boyfriend, but ended up with you and your gold fish, who was better company anyways. College had kicked your ass junior year, but you were ready to get your masters and start in the work force now that you had a legitimate place to live and got a taste of life outside of school.
As you clocked out of your shift, you waved goodbye to your too-kind boss, and headed on out to walk back home. All but chugging your last water bottle, your phone began to vibrate in your work pants, Mr. Tris' name flashing in digitals across your screen.
“Hello? How has your summer been sir?” you answered the phone enthusiastically, getting antsy about the future production approaching in a few months.
“Ahhh, there she is. It’s been pretty great, you know, enjoying the peace from the pandemonium. I would ask about your summer but I simply cannot wait to share the news any longer”. The older man responded eagerly. You both spent a lot of time becoming unlikely friends these past years, bonding over the annoyance trickling in through too many actors that had too many problems way too much way too late at night after way too long of rehearsals. You remember him as being nothing less than a mentor, and someone whom you deeply respected and seeked approval from, which is why you were so moved to hear what he had to say when you responded to him.
“All of this moving around, learning and growth has finally paid off for you, kid.” he continued to speak, working up to something big. “I’ve decided to give you stage manager. It’s an honor to say that after all this time, and I hope you know how much you’ve earned it as this is not by any means a decision I've made lightly. It won’t be for just this show either. I want you on the job for the whole year”. He paused for a moment, unbeknownst to you sitting down and looking over his notes on all the tech crew regulars. “As you’re aware, there isn’t anyone on the crew with you that I can trust as much as I can trust you to handle this, and I know you’ll do an excellent job.” He finished his small speech, all while you stopped walking on the sidewalk.
To an outside observer, it was as if you’d just been told the news of a lifetime with the smile that spread across your face.
“Oh my I-” you took a second to gather yourself and try to conceal the sheer amount of agonizingly adored feelings flooding your mind. Clearing your throat, you continued to speak, “I’m so honored sir, I promise I won't let you down.” You closed your eyes to further your resolve, “I’ll make sure to take good care of The Keys”. You played it cool, trying to keep up a mature image of yourself.
The keys in subject, where a sacred crowning of stage manager at your college. It was tradition that each time a new manager came forth, they got to place a key chain on the ring which held every key to the prestigious performing arts center. They would be in your possession for a whole year, and that meant that you could place a key chain of your very own.
You both bid adieu and you thanked him again, before you hung up and continued on home, walking with a little more pride than your stride once held…
You reminisced on that past feeling as you walked into the first table read, where you’d be meeting all of the actors and learning who played what. It was a conference room with a lot of pish-pauch-y chairs and tables organized in a group. Despite its array of mismatched furniture, it was cozy and welcoming. Perfect for the newcomers and people with lingering stage freight. You could see yourself growing a nostalgic feeling for the place.
You walked up to the table that the others were facing towards, which had three chains parked at it.
One for Mr. Tris, one for whomever he needed for assistance that day, and finally one for you. Your chair was the first to be claimed today however, due to your tendency to show up unnecessarily early.
You sat down, The Keys making that sweet-sweet jingling sound as they hit against the table from their attachment to your beltloop. You set down your drink, your fancy script, and all of your writing utensils and got cozy.
The doors opened just as you finished settling in and checking your watch, in walked a man you were quite familiar with. A regular actor in the program. His name was Tony.
You and him have grown to be friends over the years. He was usually cast as an ensemble role, but he’d always explained he didn’t want to be in the spotlight any further than that. Not only was he quite shy for an actor, he was also extensively busy being a full time college student and balancing a pretty serious job.
“Hey hot-shot! Fancy seein’ you here!” he came over to greet you happily, looking very pleasantly surprised to see you. After you both hugged, he pulled back and after a beat, gave you a pointed look, “Why are you here exactly?”
Hot-shot was a nickname some of him and the other actors stuck you with after noticing how crazy serious you got during performances. You’d been sort of proud of the name.
“Well if you must know, I’ve been sound booth, stage hand, light board, and spotlight my friend. Tris had finally decided to crown me kind of the monkey cage” as you proclaimed your achievement, you gave a show with your hands, counting all of your roles. You’d always had a bit of an alter ego when talking to Tony, his personality brought that out in a lot of people.
“Well it's about time, I thought he was stringing you along to never give you the damn thing.” He smiled at you. “We have to catch up sometime soon! There’s been some serious theater trouble you need filling in on. Let me tell you, it's good too.” He leaned in close when he said this, as if the gossip in question was in the very room.
During the exchange, a few more actors started trickling in, as well as an older woman you’ve only seen a handful of times before. She made her way over to your table and sat on the opposite end of the table and gave you a polite smile, which you returned.
“Tony, darling, I would absolutely love to. Name time and name place.” you both said catch ya later and he went to go greet his fellow actor friends while everyone was taking their places.
Tris came in on the phone, seemingly with his husband, and waved to everyone. He held the door open and walked in with new face. A gorgeous one at that. She was absolutely beautiful, and had these long flowing brown locks of hair. You would put money on that being Juliet. If it was, she must be a freshman. Which could only mean that she was exceptional, as freshmen rarely outshine the competition enough to get a named character, much less a lead. You were excited.
Mr. Tris got off the phone, and started giving introductions as he was passing our scripts. When he got to you, you were presented with a character sheet as well as a plethora of other papers, many for blocking and prop notes. He gestured to you just than, and began the final introductions of crew and leadership. “This lady and gentleman, you know her, you love her, you need her, you please her, is your stage manager,” He gave them your first and last name with a pleasant and pleased smile on his face, while you waved to everyone as they waved at you. You giggled as Tony gave you finger guns. Tris gave you a wink and then pointed towards the other woman next to you. “This is, if you live under a rock, our intimacy chordinator, Ms. Roosevelt.” Equally as enthused he expressed his friend’s presence.
Just as he was taking his seat and queueing that it was time to get a move on, the door was opened, and in walked a very familiar, yet to you mysterious, face.
His brown eyes were always full of something that could be described as lighted and wondrous, like that of a child. His smile had the equivalence of the shining sun, and his white teeth had a perfect imperfection with a small gap in the front two. There was stubble on his upper lip and a little resting on his chin. His hair was so not from this time, but it suited him very well. A mop of short-ish curly hair that could almost be described as an afro. His clothing was very eccentric, mala beads resting on top of a casual white henley-like long sleeve. He wore loose brown shorts and white sneakers. You’ve never seen that many earrings littered on a man’s ear before.
Josh Kiszka, a recurring member of the actors in this group. You’ve never spoken too much with each other and you had always wondered why. He knew everyone and you noticed he had always spoken to as many people as he could, cast and crew alike. But with the two of you it never really went past a polite greeting. He was one of the only actors that weren’t majoring in drama that kept coming back. Sure, he had a minor in vocal performance that you heard from a mutual friend, but he was a film major. Josh was someone you couldn’t wrap your head around. He was the same year as you, but a few years older. He had been in a pretty famous band, and didn’t start college until they went on a hiatus. You never listened to any of their stuff, assuming it was pop or indie. Not your thing.
“So nice of you to join us Mr. Kiszka. I hope you don’t make a habit of this, son” Tris was very quick on scolding and very sparring with punishment. All bark no bite. He usually never had to take it any further because everyone thought so highly of him.
Josh gave an apologetic smile, “My apologies, I have a tendency to show up late. Like the universe is sticking it to me.” He gave a witty reply, causing Tris to ease up and gesture for Josh to join in and take the seat next to the new girl. Her name, which you’ve come to learn, was Jess. Glancing down at your sheet, you familiarized yourself with the cast list. Sure enough, Josh’s name was next to the male lead. Romeo. Wonderful.
Tris began having a more private convo with you and Ms. Roosevelt, while all the actors greeted Josh. He instantly took over the room. As Tris’ attention went more towards intimacy stuff, you found your attention towards the lead man.
His ability to hold everyone’s attention needed to be studied. It was as if he had casted a spell that put them in a trance. He spun this elaborate story from what you could tell. His hands flying about in animated motions. He was truly the character.
What snapped you back to attention, was Tris clapping his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Alright everyone! Let's see how much we can read through today. Starting from the top. Don’t feel too much pressure here to make choices for your character yet. Try your best and we can polish it up as we go. Now I’d like to remind you we have just three weeks until you’re all off book, so keep that in mind with time frame.”
The actors opened their script and grabbed out highlighters and pens. The excitement started to build in the room. Tris continued, “Okay Chorus, Pick it up from the prologue please.”
A sophomore spoke up and began to read in a sophisticated sort of tone, setting a mood.
Characters -> Jake Kiszka x Courtney
Summary -> Jake hadn't seen or heard from her since 1972. Now she's back after ten years and he is willing to take the risk and not let her get away this time.
Word Count -> 3.537
Warnings -> 18+. Exes. Smoking. Angst. Heartbreak. Fluff. Yearning. Smut. Kissing. Penetrative sex.
*
Sweat practically covered my body from all the moving and jumping around that I had done on stage. My shirt stuck to my back and to my chest, growing increasingly uncomfortable as I rushed off stage with my guitar still hanging off of my body. I quickly pulled it off and handed it off to Johnny, flashing a smile and a wink before following after my brothers backstage. It was then that I saw her again.
Waiting for me.
Leaning against the wall beside the door leading to the dressing room. Her arms were crossed over her chest and her right ankle crossed over her left. She wore the darkest red lipstick on her lips. Her jeans had holes cut into the knees, her red flannel covering a black tank too beneath.
Josh was the first to greet her. Bright, big smile and an excited hug. Sam was next. Over enthusiastic about seeing her again. “Five years is too long.” He says before patting her shoulders and heading into the dressing room. Danny, ever the soft one, gave her a simple hug and smile before disappearing into the room as well.
I was the last to approach her. She wore a small on her face as she crossed her arms over her chest once more. It stayed quiet between us as we stared at each other.
“You did great up there.” She finally says, pushing off the wall again.
“Thanks,” I responded.
She dug into the back pocket of her jeans and produced a small box of cigarettes. “Come outside with me?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Ten minutes, Jake!” Michael, our manager said as he walked past. “We gotta be in Indiana by sunrise.”
“We won’t be late.” I say over my shoulder before turning back to her.
I nod my head down the hall, in the direction of the exit. She walks out before me, the chill of the air snipping lightly at my exposed arms.
“Five years, huh..” I say with my head bent, looking down at my boots.
I hear the flick of the lighter followed by her soft inhale. I lift my head again and she has the cigarette between her lips and takes a deep puff before pulling it out and holding it to me. A ring of her red lipstick wrapped around the small cylinder shaped object. Like it always was. I took the cigarette from her and took an inhale of it myself.
“I’m sorry that it took me so long to come back around.” She says.
I shake my head. “I know who you are.” I say as I take another puff before handing the cigarette back to her.
“The look on your face told me you weren't ever expecting me to show up again.”
I shrug my shoulders, moving closer to the outside wall of the building and leaning against it. “I knew you’d be coming back at some point.. Though five years..” I scoff. “I never stopped thinking about you. Wondering where you were, where you ran off to. The only thing I wish was different was how you left.”
“I know..”
“I wish you waited until I woke up. I hope you get that record deal. Signed Courtney.” I stuffed my hands into the pocket of my jeans. “I woke up that morning to the bed empty beside me and the closet missing your things.”
“I’m sorry..”
“You have nothing to apologize for. I always knew I couldn’t tie you down.” I drop my foot from the wall and shift my weight to my other foot. “Why did you come back?”
“Maybe now I am.” Courtney takes a step closer. “I couldn't stop thinking about you either. Wondering where you ended up, or if you got that record deal. Looks like you did.”
“Why now? Because I have money?”
Courtney rolls her eyes. “Is that what you think of me? That I only came back because you’re making money?”
“Can’t be too careful.” I shrug my shoulders.
Courtney laughs loudly, throwing her head back. “If that’s what you really think of me, then I’ll go.” She says as she takes a step back. “I came back for you, Jake. Not your money.”
“Well good, because I’m barely making enough.. I still live in the same one bedroom apartment with the broken window. I really don’t have much to give… I basically gave it all to you.”
She lowers her head, solemnly nodding it. “You’re still hurt.. I get it.” She inhales, running a hand through her curled hair and dropping the cigarette to the ground to rub it out on the sidewalk with the toe of her boot. “Maybe I should just go..”
“No, wait..” I say, grabbing her hand. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to make you feel bad or anything.”
“I kind of deserve it.”
“You only deserve it if you decide to up and leave me again like you did.”
Courtney stands closer to me. “Not this time. Though I picked the worst time to do so.” She says. “Considering you’re on tour.”
“Yeah–but I’ll be back in a couple of weeks.” I say quickly. “I’d take you with me but I don’t think you want to be cramped into a van with four sweaty guys and all of our instruments. Danny’s cymbals have practically been riding up Sam’s ass for the past three days.”
She smiles, squeezing my hand. “Two weeks?”
“Two weeks.”
“I can wait two weeks.”
I knew better to get my hopes up. I didn’t want to hope to find her at my apartment, in my bed waiting for me when I come back from the two weeks worth of shows on this tour.
Five years. For five years I had been wondering why she had left. It only took me those five years to give in to the truth. She’s a vagabond. She doesn’t stay still for long. I had her for that summer of 1977 when the band was still new and finding our way into the music industry. A daunting journey but worth it, because I had her. Or at least I thought I did. For three months I had her. I was in love. I gave her everything. Everyone kept warning me to be careful. I should have headed their warnings. I knew I should have, but I ignored it all because I was so blinded. I wrote songs based on that feeling.
But then that morning, after a night that was filled with the act of love making, or so I thought it was, and I thought she thought the same thing, I woke up to find the bed empty. The closet that once was filled with both my clothes and hers was only containing mine. That’s when I found the note on my dresser next to the necklace I bought her. A silver medallion that cost me half of my paycheck from the radio station. A day job that I had kept in between gigs for the band.
I wore that same medallion around my neck now, stuck to my chest from the sweat that was slowly drying on my skin.
“Where will you be in two weeks?” I ask, willing to accept whatever answer she gave me.
“Here.. If that’s okay with you.” She says. “I promise that I won’t leave again.”
“How can I believe that?” I ask, as I softly rub the pad of my thumb over her knuckles. “I can believe that you’ll still be here when I get back?”
“You just have to trust me.”
I look down at my shoes. “If you break this promise, I swear that I will never forgive you. Fool me once, shame on me for being naive. Fool me twice, now I just truly feel foolish. I really like you, Courtney, and I don’t want to be hurt again.”
“I’ll be there.” Courtney firmly states. “I promise.”
The backdoor squeals open and out comes the guy laughing and shoving each other. “Hey Jake!” Josh calls. “Come on, it’s time to head out.”
“I'll be there in a minute!” I called back. Looking back at Courtney, I lift her hand to my lips and leave a gentle kiss on her knuckles. “There’s a key underneath the mat outside the door. Don’t screw me over.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” She says as she stands on her toes to kiss my cheek.
“Jake, let’s go!” Josh calls again.
—
Sticking the key in the lock, all I could think about was taking off these godforsaken boots. Holes in my socks, making the inner most part of my boots rub against my heels. I’m sure that I have a blister on one of them. Twisting the lock, I step inside my tiny apartment. I set my guitar cases and my duffel down on the ground and locked the door behind me.
I stumbled down the hallway as I peeled off my shirt and tossed it into the basket by the door. I paused at the foot of the bed when I saw Courtney curled up beneath the plaid throw blanket. It felt like that summer all over again, where I’d find her curled up in a ball and asleep before I even felt an ounce of sleep. I could spy her bare shoulder peeking out from the top of the blanket.
Her body shifted and she moaned softly as she moved to turn over. Her eyes fluttered open and she peered up at me. “Good morning.” She smiles. “Did you just get here?”
I nod my head as I unbuckle my belt and move to unbutton my pants. “Are you..” She grins cheekily as she nods her head.
I playfully roll my eyes and push down my pants, leaving me only my boxers. I kicked my pants off of my ankles and climbed onto the bed, moving to lay beside her. “You used to do that every night that summer.” I say as I drag my fingers over the curve of her shoulder. “No matter where we ended up, I would always find you on a bed or in the van completely naked and hiding underneath a blanket.”
“Remember the lakehouse?” She asked.
I chuckle. “My dad was so pissed that I stole his van to drive out there.”
“That was the first night we were together.” She lays her hand on my chest and looks up at me.
“It was my first time.”
“Still hard to believe.”
I smile, resting my hand over top of hers. “I don't regret it.. Even though the summer ended the way it did, I don't regret it.”
It grew quiet between us, until I spoke up again.
“Why did you leave? Was it me?”
Courtney vigorously shakes her head. “No.. I didn't leave because of you, Jake.”
“Then why? I thought everything was okay..”
“I was still young, Jake. I was nineteen and I still wanted to see the world and to be free. I didn't want to settle down.”
“You could have done with me. I tour for a living.”
“Jake..” She sighs, moving to sit up and hugging the blanket to her chest. I sit up beside her, resting my hands in my lap. “I saw the ring.”
“Ring? What ring?”
“The sapphire one that you had hidden in your dresser. I found it accidentally when I went to go find a shirt to wear. I panicked when I saw it.”
“So that’s why you left? Because of a ring?”
She nods her head. I sigh, leaning over to rest my chin on her shoulder. “I wish you would have talked to me. Court, that ring wasn't for you.” She turns her head to peer back at me. “That ring was my mother’s. One of the few tangible things she left to me. She wanted me to have it, so that when the time was right, I would have it to give to whomever I was going to marry.” I pull away from Courtney, running a hand down my face. “I wasn't going to ask you to marry me. At least not at that time. We were still new to the whole relationship. Marriage was the last thing on my mind at that point.”
“So I basically jumped to conclusions and broke your heart.”
“I didn't want to tie you down. I knew I couldn't. You were nineteen. What nineteen year old is ready for marriage?”
“I should have just talked to you.”
“You should have..” I rest my head against her shoulder again and I wrap my arm around her body. “But you’re here now.”
“I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too..” I kiss her shoulder. “So where have you been? I know you mentioned once to me that you wanted to go to Los Angeles. Did you?”
Courtney nods her head. “It was okay. I kept thinking about walking along the beach with you. Holding your hand and watching the sun set in the evening.. I cried myself to sleep that night because I regretted ever leaving you.”
I kissed her shoulder again, and again, and again before moving up her neck. I stopped just behind her earlobe where I whispered, “You have me now.” I kissed behind her ear, nuzzling my nose against her skin. “You can have me forever, if you’d like.”
I smile against her head, feeling the goosebumps rise on her skin.
“I want you.”
“I want you too.” I say as I move around to kiss her. “I want all of you, every day for the rest of my life.”
“Have you been reading romance novels again?” She teases, smiling against my lips before kissing me again.
I chuckle and gently lay her back down on the bed. “I thought about you while the band finished out the tour.. I was thinking about you being here when I came back.”
“Well I am.”
“I know..”
I push down my boxers and kick them off my legs.
“You’re just as beautiful as you were the last moment we spent together.”
“You mean two weeks ago?”
I playfully smack her ass and she laughs. “You know what I mean..” I say before pulling the blanket away from her body. I noticed how filled out she had become, maturing into the young woman she is now.
“You know that staring is rude..”
“I am memorizing.” I say, letting my eyes trail down her naked body. I pulled her leg over my hip, pressing our bodies together. “Your skin is still just as soft.”
Slowly I adjust myself until I’m slowly pushing inside of her. I had a feeling that I wasn't the only one she’d been with, but I still wanted to take it slow for her to be comfortable. Truth be told though, I hadn't been with anyone since Courtney. Sam kept telling me that I could have anyone I wanted, but I didn't want just anyone. I wanted Courtney. I’ll always want Courtney.
Even if she wakes up and leaves again in the middle of the night, sure I’ll be hurt again but yet I’ll still find myself wanting no one else but her.
Our eyes are locked together as I thrust inside of her again, pushing as deep as I could. She whines, her fingers digging deep into the skin of my back. I rolled us over so she'd be on her back and I was on top. My necklaces dangled between us, glinting off the sunlight that peeked through the curtains hanging over the still broken window.
I slowed my pace as I watched her hand reach up to grasp the silver medallion that hung from my neck. She twisted it between her fingers before lifting her hand up to my cheek.
“I love you.” She whispered.
“I love you too.” I never stopped. I don’t think I ever will. Not until the day my last breath comes and my eyes close forever. Even then I’ll still never stop loving her.
I picked up my pace again, thrusting harder and deeper until I could feel her body growing rigid. One small sign that I knew she was close. Suddenly my name was falling from her lips and her back arched off the bed.
Oh my neighbors are definitely hating me right now.
“Didn’t think I’d miss that sound so much.” I say as I keep going until I’m meeting my own blissful end. It felt like that first time all over again.
It was surprising for a twenty year old to never have had sex before. I just didn't really care for it. I cared more about my music than I did anything else. Until I met Courtney. Then everything changed. I just knew it had to be with her. It was something I never took for granted.
I had taken her out to our family’s lakehouse one weekend over that summer. We slept in separate rooms per my father’s wishes, after he yelled at me for stealing his van. His words of not wanting to be a grandfather just yet rang in my ears. I didn’t care. I just wanted Courtney. It was like she had heard my thoughts because then I heard my bedroom door opening and the creak of the old wooden floors beneath her feet as she crept into my room. The moon was bright that night, casting a glow through the window as I had chosen to keep the curtains pulled apart.
I welcomed her into my bed, her tiny frame curling in my body as I wrapped my arms around her from behind. My own body betrayed me first. I tried to fight it. Thinking of anything else but her. It was useless. She already knew.
Her eyes asked before the words came out of her mouth. I nodded my head and she slid her hand down my body. No one has ever touched me either. Not until her. My breath hitched inside of my throat when I felt her hand wrap around my cock. I pushed down my boxers to release myself from the confines of the fabric.
She moved me onto my back before moving herself to straddle my legs. I welcomed her mouth as she took me inside. The warmth of her sending chills throughout my body. I was a little embarrassed when I released quickly. I knew, even with just the light of the moon, she could see the redness of my cheeks. She reassured me that it was okay. She didn't expect me to hold it in.
It was still hard, my body still wanting more. “May I?” She asked as she moved my legs.
“Yes.” I immediately said. “Please.”
She giggled at my manners before she raised herself up on her knees. I watched as she lined herself up with my cock and slowly sank down. “Oh fuck..” I moaned. I didn’t know where to put my hands so I kept them fisted at my sides. That is until I felt her pick them up and uncurl them before placing them on her hips.
She set the pace herself, rising and falling on my cock like it was second nature. I felt the need to move myself, so I thrusted my hips upwards, pushing myself deeper inside of her. She must’ve liked it because she cried out my name.
“Yeah? You liked that?” I said breathlessly.
“Fuck yeah..” She moaned, her hands coming down to rest on my chest. “Keep doing it.. Please..”
So I did. I kept thrusting my hips upwards, meeting her hips with loud slaps as I gripped her hips with my hands. She cried out my name again and I felt her release all over me. Her body shook as she rested against my chest. I still felt the need to keep going and she knew it too.
“On my back..” She says, out of breath.
I rolled the two of us over so that I was now above her. It was instinct for me to keep moving, thrusting my hips and pushing myself into her.
“Just like that, Jake.. Oh fuck..”
Again? Twice? I hadn’t even hit my second one yet. Is this shit normal? I could feel my second building while her second hit her quickly.
We laid there in quiet bliss, both staring at the ceiling. Or at least I was. I had never felt something so freeing.
I felt her snuggle into my side and I wrapped my arm around her. “That was..” I exhaled as I chuckled. “Fuck.. I can’t explain it.”
“Still hard to believe that was your first time.” Courtney pushed herself on her elbow.
“Was I bad?”
“No!” She exclaimed as her hand came to rest on my chest. “No, you were great. I swear.” I let out a breath that I didn’t realize that I had been holding. Courtney smiled and leaned down to kiss me.
I knew she was the one for me then, and I have the same feeling now. As she slips into a peaceful sleep beside me, I can’t help but to just watch her. I may be stupid for letting her back into my life, but right now that doesn't matter.
*
If you enjoyed, please reblog, like, and maybe leave a comment <3
warnings: arguing, jealousy, kissing, heavy petting, SMUT 18+!, dry humping, bumping and grinding, threats of murder, soft romantical moments, more arguing, biting, mentions of blood, blood drinking, vampire stuff, lemme know if I missed any!
Masterlist || The Red Moon Masterlist
If I were exactly what you say– what then?
“What then?” you echo, a delicate crease forming between your brows. “Then nothing at all. It alters nothing–”
“It alters everything, Y/n,” Jacob interrupts, his voice low, fervent, each syllable drawn as if from some private torment. “Everything.”
“And why must it?” you counter, lifting your chin with quiet resolve.
He stills, as though the very notion strikes him. Turning to you, he regards you with something near disbelief. “Surely,” he murmurs, “you cannot be so innocent.”
“I am not innocent–”
“Do you not perceive the danger in which you place yourself?” he asks, more softly now, though the urgency does not leave him. “In remaining here– alone– with me?”
“And yet, I remain,” you reply, steady despite the quickening of your pulse.
He blinks, momentarily undone. “Your courage shall be your ruin…” he says under his breath, “Or mine.”
“I see no need for such dramatics,” you answer, more quietly. “I am unharmed thus far–”
“Thus far,” he interjects, the words edged with strain. “Only thus far. By no small exertion of restraint, you remain so.”
“I do not believe you would harm me,” you say with certainty. “Not after… what passed between us.”
For a fleeting instant, he appears almost shattered. A breath escapes him, soft and weary. “It is not so easily explained.”
You frown, something dawning upon you. “Is that why you made me turn away that evening?” you ask, your voice scarcely more than a whisper as your eyes move to his mouth. “Because you would not have me look upon you?”
“Yes.” The admission leaves him with a curious note of relief.
“You wished to bite me then?” you press. He does not answer, yet the anguish in his gaze is confession enough. “Would it have hurt?” you ask.
“No.” His jaw tightens, the word forced. “On the contrary… it would have been pleasurable. And that,” he adds darkly, “is precisely the danger.”
Your gaze drops, thoughts racing, striving to assemble meaning from what he dares not fully speak. “If there is no pain in it,” you say slowly, “then why do you fear you might harm me?”
He swallows, his composure returning in a manner almost more unsettling than his distress. His voice, when he speaks, is soft– terribly so.
“Because,” he says, “I would not trust myself to stop.”
A silence follows– heavy, suffocating, as though the very air between you has grown thick with all that remains unspoken. You lift your gaze to him then, searching his face with a steadiness that borders on defiance. “And yet,” you say quietly, “you did nothing to harm me.”
His expression tightens at once. “Do not mistake necessity for virtue,” he replies. “That I succeeded once does not ensure I should again.”
“But it proves you are capable,” you insist, taking a step nearer despite the warning in his eyes. “You would not have drawn back, had you truly been without control.”
“Do not come closer.” His voice is low, sharp– no longer pleading, but commanding.
You halt, though only for a moment. “You speak as though I am a stranger to you,” you murmur. “As though what passed between us was… nothing of consequence.”
“It was a mistake.” The words fall too swiftly, too harshly.
You flinch as though struck,“A mistake?” you echo, your voice tightening despite your effort to remain composed. “Is that truly how you would name it?”
“Yes,” he says, though there is a fracture in his tone now. “It must be so.”
“It was not,” you return at once, heat rising beneath your restraint. “You cannot undo it simply because it frightens you.”
“I am not frightened for myself,” he snaps, a rare break in his composure. “It is you who ought to be afraid.”
“And yet I am not.”
“That,” he says darkly, “is precisely the trouble.”
You draw nearer again, emboldened now, your gaze unwavering. “You would have me believe that I am in peril, and yet you stand there, speaking of restraint, of choice. Which is it, Jacob? Am I safe, or am I not?”
“I do not know,” he admits, and there is something almost desperate in the confession. “That is what you fail to comprehend. You place your life in the hands of a creature who does not know his own limits.”
“I place it in the hands of a man I trust.”
“I am no man,” he returns at once, his voice dropping to something colder, more distant. “Not in any sense that should comfort you.”
“Then why did you comfort me?” you challenge. “Why did you touch me as though I were something precious, rather than prey?”
His breath catches– just once.
“You mistake hunger for tenderness,” he says, though the words sound as though they cost him.
“I do not,” you insist, your voice softening now, though no less firm. “I know what I felt. And I know what you felt, whether you would name it or no.”
“You know nothing,” he says, but it lacks conviction.
“Then enlighten me.”
For a moment, he only looks at you, as though weighing something immeasurable. Then, slowly, something in him shifts. When he speaks again, his voice is quieter… but far more dangerous. “You wish to understand?” he murmurs. A chill passes through you, though you do not retreat. “Very well.”
In an instant, he is before you– so swiftly you scarcely perceive the movement. One hand closes around your wrist, not painfully, but with a strength that brooks no resistance. The other lifts, hesitating only briefly before hovering near your throat. Your breath falters.
“Do you feel it?” he asks, his voice scarcely more than a whisper now. “The pulse beneath your skin?” His fingers do not touch, yet you are acutely aware of their nearness– of the fragile place at which your life so easily rests. “I hear it,” he continues, his gaze fixed, unblinking. “Every beat. Every falter. It calls to me.”
Your heart, traitorous thing, quickens.
“There,” he says softly, something almost pained crossing his features. “That– exactly that. Your fear. Your warmth. It is… intoxicating.”
“Then why do you not take it?” you ask, though your voice trembles despite your resolve.
His grip tightens– just slightly.
“Because I remember myself,” he says through clenched restraint. “Because I force myself to remember you are not merely… this.”
“Then you see?” you press. “You are not the monster you claim to be.”
Something flashes across his face– anger, sharp and sudden. “You persist in your folly,” he says, releasing you so abruptly you stagger back a step. “Very well. If gentleness will not persuade you– perhaps truth shall.”
You steady yourself, refusing to retreat further.
“Stay away from me,” he says, each word deliberate now, stripped of all softness. “Keep your distance. Speak to me only when necessity demands it– and never again as you have done tonight.”
“I will do no such thing,” you reply at once.
His eyes darken, “You would defy me still?”
“I would not abandon what I know to be real,” you answer. “You may deny it, if you wish– but I shall not.”
“What you call real is but a passing indulgence,” he says coldly. “One I deeply regret.”
The words land harder than before.
“And yet,” you return, your voice tightening, “you have not left.”
He pauses. Then murmurs, “I shall remedy that.”
Something in your chest twists. “So you would flee, rather than face it?”
“I would preserve your life,” he corrects sharply.
“At the cost of what?” you demand. “Your conscience?”
“At the cost of nothing that matters,” he says, though his gaze betrays him.
“Then go,” you say, though your voice wavers despite your effort. “If it is so easily done.”
For a moment, he does not move. Something unspoken passes through his expression– something almost like regret. Then, as though steeling himself, “I warn you,” he says quietly, “do not follow.”
And before you may answer, he is gone– vanished into the dark with a swiftness that leaves the room feeling suddenly, unbearably empty.
Only the echo of his presence remains… and the certainty that this is far from over.
—
A full week has passed– seven long, deliberate days in which you have not spoken to him once.
Not properly.
Oh, there are moments. Passing encounters in narrow corridors where neither of you can quite pretend the other does not exist. A brush of sleeves. A pause too brief to be called a conversation, too tense to be called nothing at all. His gaze flickers toward you– sharp, questioning, faintly irritated– and you, lifting your chin with all the dignity you can muster, walk past as though he is no more than a portrait on the wall.
It takes effort. More than you care to admit.
You confine yourself to the west wing, burying your hours in dust-laden ledgers and brittle stacks of parchment. You work until your fingers ache and your eyes burn, until numbers blur and ink smudges beneath your hand. Anything– anything– to avoid stepping near his study door.
And now, at last, it is done.
You stand in the center of the room, breathing in the stillness. Where there was once chaos, piles upon piles of neglected accounts, there is now order. Every document sorted, every ledger balanced, every sheet carefully filed away. The space feels lighter, as though it, too, has been holding its breath and can finally exhale.
A small, tired smile tugs at your lips.
“One in the morning,” you murmur to yourself, glancing toward the tall windows where the night presses darkly against the glass.
You should go straight to bed.
You know that.
But duty– ever insistent, ever inconvenient– nudges at you. He will expect to be told. And if you do not inform him tonight, he will only summon you at some ungodly hour tomorrow with that same clipped impatience that drove you away in the first place. You let out a quiet huff and smooth your hands over your skirts.
The walk to his study feels longer than usual.
Your footsteps echo faintly along the corridor, each one stirring a restless awareness beneath your ribs. By the time you reach his door, your hand hovers on the handle for only a moment before you push it open– decidedly, without knocking.
If he takes offense, he may learn to endure it.
Inside, the room is dim save for the warm glow of a single lamp. He sits at his desk, exactly as you expect– head bent, pen moving steadily across the page, wholly absorbed in whatever work has claimed him.
For a moment, you simply stand there, watching him.
You clear your throat, “My lord,” you say, your voice steadier than you feel, “I have completed the west wing’s files and ledgers.”
“Very well,” he murmurs without looking up, his pen never faltering. “If you would now, could you–”
“Actually,” you cut in, the word slipping out before you can soften it, “I come to inform you that I have completed my work for the night.”
That makes him pause. Not much– but enough.
“And,” you continue, lifting your chin just slightly, “I am retiring early.”
Now he does look up, “Retiring early?” he repeats, as though the notion itself is suspect.
“Yes.” You fold your hands loosely before you, feigning a composure you do not entirely possess. “It has been a rather long evening. I find myself… exhausted.”
There is a flicker in his expression– something unreadable, something that makes your pulse stutter– but it vanishes as quickly as it comes.
“Who allows it?” he asks. The question lands sharply. For a moment, the room feels smaller.
You hold his gaze. “Myself, my lord.”
Silence.
His jaw tightens– not dramatically, but enough that you notice. Enough that something in your chest gives a small, reckless thrill.
“I see,” he says at last, each word measured. “And you believe that sufficient?”
“I believe,” you reply, a hint of steel threading through your tone now, “that I have fulfilled every task assigned to me this evening. Beyond that, I believe my time is, at least in part, my own.”
“Is it?” His voice is quieter now, but no less firm. “I do not recall granting such liberties.”
“Nor do I recall asking for them.”
The words hang there between you, bold and undeniable.
You do not mean for it to become this. You only intend to inform him and leave– but something in the way he looks at you, something in the weight of the past week, presses insistently at your composure.
His gaze sharpens. “You grow impertinent.”
“And you,” you return, before caution can rein you in, “grow accustomed to being obeyed without question.”
A dangerous thing to say. You know it the moment it leaves your lips. And yet you do not take it back.
For a long second, neither of you speaks. The air seems to tighten, charged with something far more complicated than irritation.
“You have avoided me,” he says finally.
The shift in subject catches you off guard.
You frown faintly. “I have been working.”
“In the west wing,” he replies. “Exclusively.”
“It requires attention.”
“For seven days?”
You hesitate, just briefly. “The disarray is considerable.”
“That is not what I ask.” His eyes hold yours now, intent, searching in a way that makes it difficult to breathe evenly, “You have avoided me,” he repeats, more quietly this time.
Something in your chest twists. “I have done nothing of the sort,” you say, though the denial lacks its earlier firmness.
“You pass me in corridors as though I am a stranger.”
“And you,” you shoot back, “speak to me only to assign more work.”
“That is your position.”
“And is that all I am to you?” The question slips out before you can stop it. Silence follows– heavier this time, laden with something neither of you seems prepared to name. You swallow, your composure faltering at last. “I have completed my duties,” you say, more softly now. “I see no reason to remain.”
He studies you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “You may go, then,” he says.
It should feel like victory. Instead, it feels… hollow.
You turn before he can say anything more– before he can see the way your hands have begun to tremble– and make your way to the door. Your fingers close around the handle. For a heartbeat, you hesitate. Waiting. For what, you are not entirely sure.
But nothing comes.
So you pull the door open, step through, and shut it behind you with a quiet, decisive click.
—
You find little pleasure in most situations you are made to endure, and this is no exception.
You stand near the foot of the staircase, hands folded neatly before you, a polite smile fixed upon your lips as Charles– the chef, if you are not mistaken– attempts, with endearing subtlety, to win your favor.
He is kind. Gentle in his manner. Handsome, too, in an honest, unassuming way. Under different circumstances, under a different heart, you might have entertained his attention without protest.
But your affections are already spoken for, however ill-advised they may be.
And so you smile, and you nod, and you play your part, though warmth creeps into your cheeks from a mixture of flattery and discomfort.
“I dare say,” he says, voice soft with sincerity, “you are the loveliest woman to grace this manor.”
You lower your gaze, a quiet laugh escaping you as you shake your head. “You are too generous, sir.”
“I do not mean to be forward,” he continues, offering a small, earnest smile. “Only truthful.”
“It is appreciated all the same,” you reply gently. “Thank you, Charles.”
He hesitates, gathering what little courage he seems to possess. “Might you… consider accompanying me into town, one day? There is a café I know– most excellent desserts. I believe it would suit your tastes.”
“She would not.”
The voice is unmistakable.
You go still at once, your spine stiffening as the air about you shifts. You do not need to turn; you feel him before you see him. A moment later, Jacob steps to your side, his presence as imposing as ever.
Charles straightens immediately. “My lord,” he says, dipping his head. “Forgive me, I was only–”
“Trying your luck with the prettiest face in my household?” Jacob supplies lightly, though there is a distinct edge beneath the ease of his tone. “A temptation, I am sure– but not one you are employed to indulge.”
“I– yes, my lord, I meant no–”
“I imagine most men here would find the inclination difficult to resist,” Jacob continues, his gaze cool as it flicks briefly toward you. “Regrettably, indulgence is not among your duties.”
“No, my lord.”
“No,” Jacob repeats, almost thoughtfully. “If you are not returned to the kitchen before I finish this sentence, you will find yourself relieved of your position.”
Charles pales and hurries off at once, scarcely sparing you a glance.
You scoff under your breath and turn away without acknowledging Jacob.
“You were not dismissed, Y/n,” he remarks.
You do not pause. “I am dismissing myself, my lord.”
You take scarcely two steps before he is before you– too swift, too sudden. You collide lightly with his chest, and he steadies you with a hand at your arm. You wrench free at once, displeasure sharpening your expression.
“Fraternizing with my staff is not permitted,” he says.
“I take no interest in your insinuations,” you return sharply. “Am I to understand I am permitted to speak only with you and Mrs. Harrow?”
“That is not what I said–”
“You did not need to say it,” you cut in, quieter now but no less firm. You pull your arm fully from his grasp. “Do not trouble yourself, my lord. I shall keep to myself henceforth– speak only when addressed. Would that satisfy you? Your excellence?”
A faint, almost amused sound leaves him. “That sharp tongue will bring you nothing but trouble, my dear.”
“Unless you intend to correct it yourself,” you reply coolly, “I suggest you learn to endure it–”
Your words are cut short as he presses you back against the wall, the movement swift enough to steal your breath. He leans in, close enough that you catch the faint gleam of his fangs as they emerge.
“I do not take instruction from you, Y/n,” he murmurs. “You would do well to remember your place.”
You meet his gaze without flinching, a small, defiant smile touching your lips. “A striking performance,” you say lightly, your eyes flicking to his teeth. “Am I meant to be afraid?”
He smiles, slow and deliberate. “No,” he says softly. “You are meant to remember what it is you provoke.”
“I think I shall take my chances.”
“If you could hear my thoughts,” he replies, almost gently, “you would not.”
“Ominous,” you whisper, unimpressed. “Jacob, we both know you will not make use of those rather pretty teeth on me. Do put them away.”
You lift a hand and pat his cheek, the gesture light, almost fond– though the effect it has is anything but. His jaw tightens at once.
You step past him, lifting your chin as you go, and continue on without once looking back.
“You grow more foolish by the day, my dear,” he calls after you.
A smile tugs at your lips. “I have had an excellent tutor, my lord,” you return over your shoulder.
Behind you, you hear it– a low, reluctant laugh, edged with irritation.
—
You turn at the sound of the door, your pulse quick and uneven– until you see Mrs. Harrow slip quietly inside, her expression composed, though her smile is drawn tight at the corners.
“Good evening, my dear,” she says, closing the door behind her with care. “You are quite well, I trust?”
“Yes,” you reply, managing a small smile. “And yourself?”
“Very well, thank you.” She studies you, arms folding neatly across her chest. “Now, child, you must tell me– what troubles you so?”
You falter. “I beg your pardon?”
“You– and Jacob– have not been yourselves of late.” Her tone is gentle, but there is no mistaking its firmness. “Something weighs upon you.”
“I…” You hesitate, searching for something, anything, that might pass for a convincing falsehood. “There is nothing of consequence–”
“My dear,” she interrupts softly, though her gaze sharpens, “I was young once, though it may seem an age ago. I know well the look of a guarded heart. There is more you are not saying.”
Your eyes fall to your hands, clasped tightly in your lap. The words slip free before you can stop them. “He is a vampire.”
She does not start, nor recoil. She merely lifts a brow, her expression unreadable as she turns her gaze aside, considering, “And it is this which distresses you?” she asks at last, her voice measured.
“No,” you answer quickly, sinking down onto the edge of your mattress. “Not in the slightest.”
“I see,” she murmurs, something thoughtful passing over her features. “Then you love him.”
Your breath trembles as you release it. “I do.”
She hesitates only briefly before joining you, seating herself beside you with a gentleness that feels almost maternal. “Then what is the difficulty, my dear?”
You press your lips together, frustration rising alongside your embarrassment. “He will not– oh, he is the most obstinate man,” you mutter, your voice low. “He will not allow me near him.”
“Dear child,” she says, not unkindly, “he seeks to protect you.”
“Mrs. Harrow…” Your voice softens, and you cannot bring yourself to meet her eyes. Slowly, haltingly, you recount the events of a few nights past– his touch, his words, the nearness of him. Shame warms your cheeks as you speak, and by the end, your eyes sting with unshed tears.
For a moment, she says nothing. When you dare glance at her, her brows are slightly raised, though her expression remains composed. Then she hums, thoughtful.
“I confess,” she says at length, “it is not a vision I should readily associate with the boy I have known since his infancy– but you have my assurance, there is no judgment here.”
You pause, her words settling over you– unexpected, but not unwelcome. Then, more quietly, you ask, “Are you… as he is?”
A faint smile curves her lips. “Indeed.”
“I thought as much,” you admit.
“And yet you are not afraid?”
A breath of laughter escapes you. “Quite the contrary.”
She gives a small, dry chuckle. “You may rest easy– I have no desire to make a meal of you, as he so struggles not to do.” Then her expression shifts, a slight frown forming. “It is… peculiar. He is not typically so afflicted by the hunger. Not to such a degree.”
“Perhaps,” you say, your voice dimming, “he does not return my feelings as you suppose.”
She turns to you at once. “Oh, but he does,” she says with quiet certainty. “I would wager his feelings run deeper than even your own.”
Your heart betrays you then, giving a sudden, hopeful leap– and at once, she smiles.
The realization dawns, and you cannot help but laugh softly despite yourself.
“What am I to do?” you ask, the question fragile as it leaves you.
She considers for a moment, her gaze distant, weighing her thoughts. Then, slowly, she rises.
“His room,” she says, as though arriving at a decision. “Top floor. The last door at the end of the corridor. He keeps to himself there.”
You blink up at her, startled.
She pauses at the door, her hand resting lightly upon the handle. A small, knowing smile touches her lips. “I have told you nothing,” she says.
And before you can respond, she slips out, leaving you alone– with a racing heart and far too much courage for your own good.
—
“Mrs. Harrow, I am quite at a loss–” He breaks off the moment he perceives it is not Mrs. Harrow at all. His expression hardens with careful restraint. “Y/n,” he says, measured. “What are you doing here?”
“Good evening,” you reply, your voice soft despite the tightness in your chest. You draw in a steadying breath, folding your hands before you. “I believe we are in need of a conversation.”
His gaze travels over you– your robe, the hour, the impropriety of it– and his jaw tightens. “Perhaps we are. Yet I cannot think it wise to conduct such a conversation in my bedchamber, at this hour, while you are so… attired.” A faint tilt of his head. “It invites scandal.”
“There is no one awake to witness it.”
“Y/n–”
“Why did you not tell me Mrs. Harrow is as you are?” you press, your voice low but unwavering. “A vampire.”
He exhales, slow and controlled. “It was not my place to reveal what was not mine to tell.”
“That is… fair,” you concede, though the word feels thin.
A brief silence falls between you before he speaks again. “Why have you come?”
You hesitate only a moment. “I believe it was you who said the distance between us had grown intolerable.” His eyes fix upon you. “Was is not?”
“And I believe,” he returns after a pause, “it was you who insisted such distance was necessary.”
“Yes.” You glance aside, gathering what remains of your composure. “And yet, you kissed me. You placed your hand beneath my skirt, as though necessity had no meaning at all.
“Dear God,” he breathes, visibly startled by your frankness.
“I cannot persist in this way,” you continue, your voice trembling now despite your effort. “I cannot pretend it was nothing. Nor can I despise you for acting in accordance with what you believe right. I cannot, Jacob.”
“Then what is it you would have of me?” he asks quietly. “That I indulge every impulse? That I take what I desire of you– feed from you when it suits me?” He shakes his head, troubled. “You do not comprehend what it is you propose.”
“I am not a child to be shielded from unpleasant truths,” you step nearer, your resolve strengthening with each word. “I know the danger well enough. But I cannot endure this distance any longer.”
He does not answer. Instead, he lowers himself to the edge of the bed, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond the wall, as though searching for reason there.
After a moment, you follow. Slowly, you close the space between you, lifting your hand to his face. Your fingers rest lightly against his cheek, cool beneath your touch. He does not pull away– though the tension in him suggests he longs to.
“You truly believe there is no way forward?” you ask softly.
“Nothing may alter what I am,” he murmurs. “Nothing may quiet the… thoughts I have where you are concerned. They are not fit things, Y/n.”
“Then do not quiet them,” you whisper.
His breath falters. “Y/n–”
But you do not allow yourself to reconsider. You lean forward, pressing your lips to his in a tentative, uncertain kiss. For a fleeting instant he remains still– then he yields, his shoulders loosening as he returns it. His hands find yours, grasping them as though to steady both you and himself.
You shift your knee to rest upon the edge of the mattress beside him. In an instant, his restraint breaks– his arm draws you firmly into his lap, as though distance, at last, has ceased to exist at all.
You pull back from the kiss only to catch your breath, your foreheads still pressed together as his hands roam lightly over your waist.
“I do not believe this counts as a conversation,” he murmurs.
“I believe it should.”
He pauses, pulling back as his thumb slowly circles over the thin silk. “Are you wearing only this robe?” He asks tightly.
Your breath catches, “Possibly.”
“Y/n,” he whispers, his hands tightening on you.
“Do not lecture me,” you interrupt before he can even try to admonish you. “I am well aware of what I am doing.”
“You were wandering about the manor in nothing but your robe,” he says, jaw ticking.
“And as I stated earlier, nobody else is awake.”
He still appears to be displeased, so you reach for his hand, moving it to the knot in the front of your robe. He freezes completely.
Then he loosens it only a little, enough for your robe to slip open only to reveal a sliver of your skin. Your heart beats fast as his eyes move over your bare skin, heat trailing behind his gaze.
His gaze lingers on that narrow strip of exposed flesh, the curve of your collarbone giving way to the swell of your breasts, shadowed just beyond his reach.
Jacob's breath comes in shallow draws, his fangs pressing against the inside of his lower lip as he fights the primal urge rising within him– the overwhelming hunger to sink his teeth into your neck, to taste the sweet rush of your blood, or to tear away the silk and thrust his cock deep into you.
The manor around you is silent, save for the distant crackle of the dying fire in the hearth and the soft rustle of silk.
"Good God," he murmurs, voice a low rumble that vibrates through his chest and into yours.
You shift awkwardly in his lap, feeling the hard length of his cock straining against the confines of his breeches, pressing insistently against your thigh. The friction makes you ache, but you don't know how to chase it, your hips moving tentatively, haltingly.
"Jacob," you breathe, your hands sliding up his shirt to grip his shoulders, seeking guidance in your confusion.
He shushes you quietly, before his lips part when he guides your hips against him again, and you catch a flash of his fangs once more.
His fingers trail lightly over your cheekbone, before ghosting down your chest, down to your waist, where he pulls you down with him as he lays back against the bed. You place a hand beside his head so you don't crash down into him, still moving your hips as he guides you along.
You have not the slightest idea what you're doing, you know it feels good– the feeling of your core moving just right against the prominent bulge in his pants makes your body heat with desire.
Your eyes trail over every bit of him that you can see, his face, his throat– and you recall how his lips felt against yours. It was so nice.
You presume he would like that, as well.
So you lean in, pressing your lips against where his pulse should be.
“Fuck,” he whispers, his chin tilting up as he lets out a low sound.
You quite enjoy that.
So you trail more kisses along his skin, and in a daring move, you flatten your tongue against the base of his throat, licking up to the edge of his jaw.
“Jacob,” you start softly, “Earlier with Charles…” He tenses beneath you when you pull back just enough to see his face, “You were jealous?”
“I was not,” he says, voice clipped.
You fight to hide your smile, “You still are.”
“I should kill him.”
“Do not say such things,” you chastise with a small grin, “I might take you seriously one day.”
He huffs a disbelieving sound, “You very well should.”
“Mm, perhaps,” you murmur, leaning back in and kissing just beneath his chin.
He hums, the sound vibrating against your lips, before he lightly grabs you by your jaw, pulling your face back up to his. His other hand still guides your hips, moving you so slowly you feel as if you could combust.
He looks positively sinful like this– his eyes heavy, fangs poking his bottom lip, his hair fanned out like a halo around his face.
You can't help but let out a weak sound at the sight of him, and his lips turn up slightly, “What is it, darling?” He asks knowingly. Your hand moves, your fingers trailing over his cheek, over his lips, and he presses a kiss to your fingertips, “Does it feel good?”
You nod helplessly, humming a weak mm-hmm as he moves your hips faster against him.
“I want you so badly,” he admits in a whisper.
“Have me,” you plead, your hands moving to tangle into his shirt to anchor you as you grind against him. “Please, Jacob.”
“No,” he says gently, shaking his head as he watches you, his eyes moving to your chest again, locking in on the way your breasts are pressed together as you hold onto him.
“You are cruel,” you whisper, warmth burning you from the inside out.
“I know,” he murmurs, almost apologetically, before he lets out an almost-growl, “Fuck, you feel so good like this.”
“You feel good,” you breathe, glancing down between the two of you, watching in desperation as you rock over his hardened, clothed length, “I want to see you.”
He shushes you, shaking his head, “Just focus on that pleasure, darling,” he instructs you, and you hate that he's trying to distract you, to take your focus off of him, “That heat building in your veins– Feel it.”
“I feel it,” you murmur, gasping when he starts moving his hips in time with yours, making the warmth glow hotter, “Oh– Jacob.”
“I want you to feel it,” he says softly, “Just like you did with my fingers, sweet girl, let it build until you cannot stand it.”
You let out a quiet sound, your face flaming at the noises once again– Shamed you could hear how aroused you were with every passing of your body against his.
You breathe his name again, your jaw falling slack as your entire body tightens, seconds away from falling apart.
“That's it. Say my name, Y/n,” he encourages, “Let it go. Say my fucking name–”
You cry out his name as it overcomes you, the pleasure making your body nearly convulse as the warmth drags you under.
He moves your lower half against him fervently as you sob and grind on top of him, riding out the waves crashing through you.
Your grip in his shirt is so tight, you feel you may tear the thin material. He pays no mind to it as his thighs flex beneath your backside, letting out a quiet sound as he presses up into you.
At least, it settles. The room is nothing more than the crackling fire and your shared symphony of heavy breaths.
Your eyes flutter open to find him watching you already, his gaze the softest you'd ever seen– a glow about him that makes your heart ache.
You sigh quietly, sinking into him completely, your forehead resting in the hollow of his throat.
He brushes his fingers through your hair, “I do not believe you came here for a conversation.”
“I did,” you lie.
“In nothing but your robe?” He asks, his finger trailing over the curve of your breast.
“Persuasion,” you say, watching as his fingers move over your chest.
“Very convincing persuasion,” he murmurs.
“I believe so.”
He exhales, drawing your robe closed with careful hands. “You look exhausted.”
“I will go in a moment,” you murmur, pushing yourself upright. “I am only–”
“No.” His voice softens, but there is no mistaking the resolve in it. “You will remain here tonight.”
You blink at him. “In your bedchamber?”
A flicker of dry amusement crosses his face. “No, I thought perhaps the balcony would better suit you. Yes, here.” His gaze lingers on you. “With me.”
“I did not know if you wished it,” you admit quietly, slipping from his lap.
“I do.” He rises partway, hands settling at your waist as he draws you back between his knees, his arms folding around you with an ease that steals your breath. “I would not have said so otherwise.”
You press your lips together, hiding the smile that threatens. “Then I shall stay.”
“Good.”
You had not expected his bed to be so inviting. It seems an indulgence, somehow, for a man who appears to have little need of sleep at all. Yet there you lie beside him, your pulse unsteady, your thoughts drifting as drowsiness creeps in.
His hand lifts to your face, thumb brushing lightly along your cheek. “Do not look at me so,” he murmurs.
“Like what?” Your voice is scarcely above a whisper.
“As though you have grown overly fond of me.”
“I have,” you confess, too tired to pretend otherwise.
Something in his expression softens– warm, almost tender. “As have I,” he says. “Though you try my patience in ways I had not thought possible.”
You breathe a quiet laugh. “I do no such thing.”
He hums, unconvinced and faintly amused, drawing you closer until your head rests against him. “Sleep, my love.”
The words settle deep, and the last thing you know is the way your heart stumbles at them before sleep claims you.
—
You wake to emptiness.
For a moment, you do not stir, disoriented by the unfamiliar room and the absence beside you. Then memory returns in a rush, and with it, a flush of heat that climbs to your cheeks.
You sit up quickly, glancing about. He is nowhere to be seen.
Your frown deepens.
Gathering yourself, you slip from the bed and make your way back to your own chambers, fortunate enough to encounter no one along the way. The quiet halls grant you mercy; no eyes mark your retreat, no whispers follow.
Once inside, you dress with haste, fingers less steady than you would like as you fasten buttons and pin your hair into something resembling order. You study your reflection only briefly– just long enough to ensure you do not look as though you have spent the night in a man’s bed.
Not a man’s bed, you correct yourself, your stomach tightening. Jacob’s.
The thought sends a fresh wave of unease through you. What if nothing has changed? What if everything has?
Drawing a steadying breath, you make your way to his study. You pause at the door, hand hovering, your courage faltering at the last moment.
Before you can knock, the door opens.
He stands there, already watching for you. Without a word, he takes your hand and draws you inside, shutting the door firmly behind you.
“We must speak,” he says.
You nod, your pulse quickening. “Yes… we must.”
“I owe you an apology.” He steps away at once, as though distance might make the words easier. His gaze fixes somewhere just past your shoulder. “What passed between us last night should not have happened. I ought never to have–”
“No.”
The word escapes you before you can soften it. Your shoulders fall, disappointment settling heavy in your chest despite your efforts to brace against it. You had feared this– had told yourself to expect it– yet the certainty of it still stings.
“I lost command of myself, Y/n… it must never occur again.”
“Jacob…”
At last, he turns to you– eyes wild, beseeching, “It cannot,” he insists, voice strained, “We cannot– I cannot– You must understand.”
“I do not,” you answer, quiet but unyielding. “You cannot cast me aside after what has passed between us.”
“I must cast you aside because of it,” he breathes, the words scarcely more than a confession.
“Whatever you have done, I stood beside you in it. I chose as surely as you did,” you shake your head, your chest tightening, “And when you drive me away, you strip me of any choice that might follow–”
“Because you do not fathom what I am capable of!” he breaks, stepping toward you with sudden force. “You long to remain near me– you wish for things to be as they were last night– but they cannot be so.”
“You are a coward,” you murmur, the words soft– and sharp as a blade.
He goes utterly still, “If that is your judgment of me,” he says at length, voice low, “then so be it.”
“It is no judgment. It is truth,” you reply, a hollow laugh escaping you.
His jaw tightens. “You forget yourself.”
“I do not,” you step forward, watching the tension seize his shoulders. “I know precisely who I am. And I know precisely what you are. You, however…” Your voice lowers, cutting. “You shrink from anything that does not fit the narrow truth you cling to. Do not accuse me of forgetfulness when you are ruled by your own fear.”
The words strike him.
You see it– the wound of them. He turns his face aside, swallowing as though the effort pains him.
“All I have ever known is to bring harm,” he says quietly. “It is all I have done. All I continue to do. I would not have you suffer it also.”
“My life is not yours to command,” you answer, steady.
“Your choice is made in ignorance–”
“Do not be so arrogant,” you snap, closing the space between you in two quick steps. Your hand rises, grasping his jaw, forcing his gaze back to yours. “You think me blind? You think I do not know what you are? That you could end me with a single bite?” He flinches, but you do not release him. “I know it,” you press on, breath unsteady now. “I know it well. And yet I stand here still– begging you to cease this endless retreat.”
His hand closes around your wrist where it holds him, his touch burning, pulling you nearer as his other arm slips about your waist.
“Every moment I am near you,” he whispers, his voice breaking with restraint, “I ache. With want. With need. For you– your nearness, your warmth, your skin against mine,” His breath ghosts against your ear, sending a tremor through you. “Your blood.” He draws back only enough for your eyes to meet– dark, dangerous, “And still you plead with me to surrender to it.”
“Would it be so terrible?” you whisper.
“Your pulse betrays you at the very thought,” he murmurs, his gaze flicking to your throat. “Why?”
“Because I desire it.”
His breath falters, “And if I cannot stop?” he asks, and there they are– the sharp glint of his teeth, revealed as though your words alone have summoned them. “If I were to take too much… if I were to drain you– what then?”
A shiver runs through you, but you tilt your head all the same as he leans nearer, his breath warm against your skin, “I should not know the difference,” you breathe.
“You make light of it,” he chides, though his voice is frayed.
“Perhaps…” you whisper, though your voice is nearly gone.
He inhales– deep, deliberate– just where your pulse hammers beneath your skin. You feel it. The faintest brush of his teeth.
A ghost of a touch– and then nothing.
He is gone from you, stepping back as though struck, dragging a hand across his mouth, shaking his head.
Your knees nearly give way. Your body trembles, heat and absence warring within you, a hollow ache settling deep in your chest as he turns from you.
And then, you laugh. The sound startles even you. He turns back sharply, confusion and something like hurt flashing across his face.
“And you would have me believe,” you say, breathless, “that you possess no self-command.”
He says nothing, but every line of him is drawn tight.
“You fear more than the act itself,” you continue, emboldened now, stepping toward him once more. “You fear what lies beneath it. What this is between us.”
“Y/n–”
“Say it.”
A long silence stretches.
“I do not know how to keep you safe,” he admits at last. “Not only from my teeth… but from myself. From what I might make you feel. I do not know how to love you save from afar.”
The words hang between you. You do not answer. Instead, you reach for him again– but this time not with force. Your hand finds his face, gentler now, “Then learn,” you whisper.
Something in him breaks.
His restraint– his distance– shatters all at once.
He seizes you, pulling you flush against him, and before you can draw breath, his lips crash against yours.
It is not gentle.
It is desperate, hungry, months of denial poured into a single, breathless moment. His hand tangles in your hair, holding you there as though you might vanish, as though you are the only thing anchoring him to this world.
You cling to him just as fiercely.
And then his mouth leaves yours. Your breath catches as his lips trace down your jaw, slower now, trembling with something darker. “Jacob…” you whisper, though you do not pull away.
His answer is a shuddering breath against your throat, “I cannot–” But he does not stop. His hands tighten at your waist.
His lips brush your skin, and then his teeth sink in.
warnings: little snippet of Jake pov, arguing, societal shame/scandalous stuff, kissing, heavy petting, SMUT 18+!, fingering (f. rec), dirty talk, inexperience, little power dynamic ofc, confrontation, mentions of blood, the big reveal, lemme know if I missed any!
a/n: As requested, here is part two tonight! 💞
Masterlist || The Red Moon Masterlist
Infuriating.
He almost laughed at the thought. Almost. If the irritation hadn’t already settled so deeply under his skin, he might have.
You were the infuriating one– not him.
Stubborn. Sharp-tongued. Unyielding in a way no one ever was with him. And God, he loved it. No one challenged him like you did. No one spoke to him without hesitation, without that careful edge of fear– no one except you. Well… you and Mrs. Harrow, but that was different. You weren’t cautious. You weren’t measured.
You were fearless.
And if you ever found out what he was, that would be the first thing to change.
You saw him. He knows you did. He hopes he can lie should you ask him. The distance from the window to where he was– Surely he could convince you none of it happened.
He leans back in his chair with a quiet sigh, pressing his fingers against his temple. If you knew– if you really knew– would you still look at him the same way? Would you still argue, still roll your eyes, still stand your ground?
Or would you flinch?
The thought twists something sharp and unfamiliar in his chest. He hates it. He hates how much it matters.
You make his heart ache.
Everything about you does. Your voice– melodic, even when you're arguing with him. Your eyes– too quick to catch his, even when you pretend not to notice him staring. And your pulse…
God.
The way it stutters, just slightly, when you realize he’s looking at you. When you step a little too close. When your breath catches for reasons he tries not to think too hard about.
He wants you.
Not in the abstract, not in some distant, manageable way– no. It’s immediate. Sharp. Consuming.
And he knows he can’t have you.
That should be enough. It’s always been enough before.
But there’s something about you. From the moment he saw you, something in him– something old and instinctive– went still. As if the world had, somehow, settled into place. As if everything before you had just been noise.
God, he sounds insane.
You make him feel insane.
His thoughts spiral too easily when it comes to you. He lets them, sometimes. Just for a moment. Just long enough to imagine. Your skin beneath his hands. Warm. Alive. Your pulse beneath his mouth. Just one bite–
“Fuck.”
The word tears out of him as he shoves back from his desk, the chair scraping harshly against the floor. His jaw tightens, muscles coiling as he drags a hand through his hair, as if he can physically pull the thoughts from his head.
They only get worse.
You beneath him. Or above him. The way your body would move, the sounds you’d make– soft at first, maybe, then less restrained. Whether you’d beg, if he pushed you far enough. If you’d argue with him, even then.
He exhales sharply, something between frustration and hunger curling low in his chest.
He can’t.
He won’t.
Because the truth would ruin everything.
You wouldn’t look at him like that anymore– not with heat, not with defiance. You’d look at him the way humans are meant to look at things like him.
And you would run.
The thought settles heavy in his chest as he drops back into his chair, anger bleeding into something quieter. Something almost hollow. He drags in a slow breath, steadying himself.
He hears it.
Your heartbeat.
Faint at first, then clearer as you move closer down the hall– quick, uneven, betraying you before you even reach his door.
His entire body stills, every sense sharpening.
It’s faster than usual.
He tilts his head slightly, listening, his jaw tightening again.
Fear… or something else?
He closes his eyes for a brief moment, exhaling through his nose.
God, he hopes it’s something else.
—
You press the heavy door inward, its hinges whispering against the silence. Your gaze lifts, only for a moment, and in that fleeting instant you catch the storm in his expression before you quickly lower your eyes.
He is displeased.
“The east wing has been completed, my lord,” you say, your voice measured, subdued.
“Indeed,” he replies coolly. “How commendable.”
The clipped tone stings more than any raised voice.
“You are… displeased,” you venture, though it is scarcely a question.
A sharp exhale escapes him. “No.”
You hesitate, fingers tightening around the ledger in your hands. “Are you unwell, then?”
A pause. Then, quieter– dangerously so– “Would it concern you, if I were?”
Your breath falters. “My lord, I would not inquire if I did not hold concern.”
His jaw tightens, a flicker of something dark passing through his eyes. “You are infuriating. Not I– you.”
The words strike like a slap. Your own words directed to him earlier, now thrown back at you. You blink, startled. “I beg your pardon?”
“Not in the manner you presume,” he amends quickly, though his tone remains taut with restraint. “It is… you, in your entirety, that proves most vexing.”
A faint, incredulous breath escapes you. “Then I must offer my apologies– for my very existence, it seems.” You incline your head, though something in you stiffens, refuses to yield entirely. “Though, if I may speak plainly, my lord… you are not the simplest man to serve.”
“That is not–” He stops himself, dragging a hand through his hair with visible frustration. “You misunderstand me.”
“Then I fear I am at a loss,” you murmur.
Silence descends– thick, suffocating. He studies you as though you are a riddle he cannot solve, and it sets your pulse unsteadily racing.
At last, his voice lowers, almost to a whisper. “Everything I attempt… seems rendered meaningless in your presence.”
Your lips part, your composure faltering. “I do not understand.”
“You would not,” he says, though there is no cruelty in it– only something strained, desperate.
A fragile pause follows. You clasp your hands together, seeking steadiness, seeking distance– from him, from the heat that seems to gather whenever he looks at you.
“I am sorry,” you begin softly.
“You were honest,” he interrupts.
“That was not my intent,” you confess, your voice barely above a breath.
His brow lifts faintly. “No?”
“No,” you admit, your gaze dropping. “I had meant… to be respectful.”
The air shifts.
You feel it before you comprehend it– the sudden closeness, the way his presence eclipses all thought. When you look up, he is nearer than propriety– or reason– should allow.
“My lord–” you begin, startled.
“Do not,” he says quietly. The words are not harsh, but it binds you all the same.
Your back meets the wall before you realize you have stepped away– or that he has followed. The ledger slips from your grasp, forgotten entirely.
“This distance we insist upon,” he murmurs, his voice low, unsteady in a way you have never heard. “It is intolerable.”
Your breath catches. “It is necessary.”
“Is it?” His gaze searches yours, dark and intent. “For whom?”
“For–” You falter. “For me.”
A faint, humorless smile touches his lips. “And yet you remain.”
“I serve you,” you say, though the words lack their former conviction.
“Is that all?” he presses, his voice softening into something far more dangerous.
You cannot answer.
Your heart betrays you– its frantic rhythm echoing in the silence between you. You are acutely aware of everything: the nearness of him, the faint chill of his presence, the way his eyes linger upon your lips as though he should not, and yet cannot help himself.
“This is folly,” you whisper.
“Yes,” he agrees.
Neither of you moves away.
“Then you must step back,” you insist, though your voice trembles.
“I cannot.”
The confession is quiet– almost unwilling.
You swallow, your hands pressing lightly against his chest as though to create space, though the contact sends a sharp, electric shiver through you.
“My lord–”
“Say my name.”
The request– no, the command– unravels something in you. You hesitate only a moment. And that is all it takes.
Whatever fragile restraint remained in him snaps.
His hand finds the wall beside your head, caging you there, and before sense can return– before propriety can reassert its cruel, rigid hold– his lips are upon yours.
The world tilts. It is not gentle. It is not tentative.
It is a collision of everything unsaid– weeks, months, perhaps longer– of stolen glances and sharpened words and aching restraint. His kiss is fierce, desperate, as though he means to prove something– or perhaps to silence it.
Your breath vanishes, replaced by heat, by the startling intensity of him. For a heartbeat you are frozen, caught between shock and scandal and something far more dangerous, and then you yield.
Your fingers clutch at his coat, betraying you utterly. The kiss deepens, not in impropriety but in urgency, in the sheer force of what has been denied too long.
When at last he pulls away, it is abrupt, as though he has remembered himself too late. Your breaths mingle in the narrow space between you.
“Turn around,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear.
“What?” You ask, your eyebrows dropping in confusion as his hands slip to your waist.
“Turn around,” he repeats, his voice as gentle as his hands as he turns you in a half circle, until you're facing the wall in front of you.
“Jacob–”
“Just trust me,” he murmurs, his hands sliding down to your thighs, grabbing your skirt, pushing it up as your hands land on the wall in front of you. You turn your head to question him further, but he leans in and presses a kiss to your cheek, “Trust me,” he says again.
You nod hesitantly, your fingers tightening uselessly against the wall as he bunches your skirt at your waist. You stare with widened eyes at the wall, your breaths coming in short, staccato huffs of air.
He presses his chest against your back, “Hold that up for me, darling,” he orders sweetly. You grab your skirt tightly, your head tilted down, watching as he wraps an arm around your waist.
“Jacob, I have never–”
“I know,” His voice is soft, gentle in your ear, and it makes your heart ache.
His other hand slides beneath the thin, silky material of your undergarments, brushing over your heated skin, caressing you softly, inches away from your most intimate area. You let out a shaky sigh, your eyes glued to the way his hand moves beneath the fabric.
“I'm going to touch you, Y/n,” he murmurs, “Is that alright, darling?”
You nod, knowing already what he was going to do, but grateful that he was still checking in. It made you feel safe, it made you want him even more. “Yes,” you breathe, “Please…”
And then his fingers lower, slipping between your thighs. Your jaw drops the second the pads of his fingers brush over the swell of your clit, and your hand shoots out to grab his wrist before you can stop yourself.
He hums in amusement, “Y/n,” he murmurs, "Just hold the skirt up for me, love.”
“Are you certain we should be doing this?” You ask quickly, scared of how much you're craving it already, “Anybody could walk in–”
“They will not,” he says calmly, his fingers pressing against you firmly, “Quit thinking so hard, we are alright.”
You nod, slowly relaxing your grip on his wrist, tangling your hands back into your dress, “M'sorry–”
He shushes you, pressing a kiss to your jaw, “Enough of that,” he whispers, the pads of his fingers circling slowly over you, making you sigh.
You let your head fall forward, your forehead resting against the cool surface of the wall, willing your brain to go silent.
His other arm tightens around your waist, holding you steady as he pets at you with gentle, almost teasing touches. He begins circling just a little quicker, firmer, and it sends a warmth surging through your entire body.
He lets out a hum as he slips his fingers lower, teasing at your weeping entrance. You lift your head, your eyebrows tilting as he eases a single finger inside of you.
“Oh,” you breathe, your cheeks flushing hot.
“Are you alright?” He asks softly, letting his finger stay there, unmoving, and you feel yourself unwittingly clench around it.
You nod, “I am alright, I– I like it…” You let your words trail off, embarrassment threatening to swallow you whole.
He hums, before his fingers slips out, but before you can complain, it's easing back inside with another.
Your jaw falls slack, your walls squeezing around them as you grip your dress tighter. You want to laugh, you'd always heard horror stories about sex, about what surrounded it. You had heard of this, the fingers being inserted, but it had made you blush and shy away from the thought of any of it.
You bunch your skirt into one hand, the other moving to the wall to uselessly try to steady yourself as he curls his fingers inside of you.
It sends a tingling warmth through your limbs, your thighs quivering when he does it again.
“Oh– Jacob…”
“You feel so sweet wrapped around my fingers, darling,” he murmurs, before he lets out a quiet curse, pulling his face away from you.
He lets out a low sound, his arm around your waist tightening for a brief moment. His palm presses against your throbbing clit, grinding perfectly against it as his fingers curl in and out of you.
You can feel a pressure building, a hot-white surge of pleasure growing quicker by the minute, and you're not quite sure what it is, but you crave more.
And it feels so nice.
Your head falls back against his shoulder, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all, by how good it feels. He lets out an almost pained sound as you lift your hand, tangling it into his hair without a thought.
He curses again, pressing his forehead to your jaw, inhaling sharply through his nose, “You're a cruel woman,” he whispers.
You're not sure what he means by that.
He lifts his head again, "Come on, my dear girl,” he grits out, “Your sweet cunt's squeezing my fingers so tight, darling, just let it go.”
“Let what go?” You ask, gasping as his hand moves impossibly faster. “Jacob–”
He curses again, pulling his face away, “I know you feel it, love,” he says, voice restrained, “That warmth, that pleasure filling your entire, beautiful body– Feel it. Focus on how it builds,” your legs are about to give out as he continues to talk, “Let it build– Until you cannot fucking stand it.”
“I feel it,” you breathe, your hold on him tightening as his does the same, “Jacob…”
“And let it go,” he whispers, “Let me have it.”
And you do.
You aren't sure how he conjured that out of you with a simple command, maybe it was his hand working at you, maybe it was the spell he'd had you under since you first laid eyes on him.
Your back arches as the pleasure explodes inside of you, your thighs trembling as you try to stay upright. You gasp his name, your hands grappling uselessly with wherever they landed.
He lets out a low sound, a soft groan, as his hand continues its merciless ministrations. He's whispering praises to you, you can distantly hear them past the blood rushing in your head, but your body spasms and pulses with each beat of your heart.
Finally he slows, the pleasure slowly ebbing as you come down from a high you'd never experienced in all your days.
His arm stays tight around your waist as your legs threaten to give out.
“Fuck,” he breathes, his hand stilling completely, fingers still nestled inside of you, “That was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.”
You take a deep, shaky breath, your hands falling to the wall to help hold yourself up. It's pointless, his arm around you is still holding you steadily.
“What… was that?” You ask between gasping breaths, your body still quivering as he finally eases his fingers away from your drenched center.
He hums a chuckle, “That was heaven,” he murmurs, “The closest I will ever be to it.”
He turns you back around gently, his eyes dark and heavy as he readjusts your skirt, letting it fall back into place as if it had never been out of it to begin with.
He glances up at the clock, and his jaw tightens, “It is time for you to go to bed,” he says softly, “It is past five already.”
You nod, your eyes subconsciously falling to his lips, wanting just one more taste. He leans in, capturing your lips in a chaste kiss, before he puls away.
“I will see you this evening,” he murmurs, “Get some rest, darling.”
You nod again, your mind still spinning, but you manage a soft, “Goodnight, Jacob.”
He smiles, but there's something behind it that you cannot place, “Goodnight, my dear Y/n.”
You reluctantly pull away, glancing back at him as you force your shaking legs to move you to the door.
You aren't sure what to do, what to say, so you slip out into the quiet corridor, your heart beating impossibly fast, your brain working just as hectically.
And you make your way to your room, but your heart stays in that cursed office.
—
Hushed whispers drift along the corridor, low and urgent. Then, sharper tones, quick and heated, cutting through the quiet like a blade.
You pause mid-step, your head tilting as you listen. The words themselves are indistinct, muffled by thick walls and distance, but the emotion is unmistakable– frantic, angry, pressing.
Drawn despite yourself, you move closer, your slippers soundless against the polished floor. A faint crease forms between your brows when you realize the voices issue from near Jacob’s study.
You hesitate only a moment before daring to peer around the corner.
There they stand– Mrs. Harrow, rigid with indignation, her gloved hands trembling ever so slightly at her sides, and Jacob, composed yet strained, his expression drawn tight in a way you have not seen before.
“And when she discovers it?” Mrs. Harrow demands, her voice low but fierce, her eyes alight with something perilously close to fury. “What you are. What then, Jacob?”
His jaw sets, a shadow passing over his features. “It will never come to anything of that magnitude–”
“It will,” she cuts in sharply. “You are toying with that dear girl– and her life–”
“I am not,” he snaps, the words escaping him louder than intended.
You stiffen, your back pressing instinctively against the wall. Toying? Mrs. Harrow mutters something further under her breath, too soft to catch, and then the swish of her skirts signals her departure. You hear her footsteps retreat down the hall.
You mean to wait– to allow a few moments to pass before revealing yourself– but as you turn, intending to go, you nearly startle out of your skin.
He stands before you, “It is rude to eavesdrop.”
Your breath catches. “I was not– I was merely–”
“Standing around the corner, listening to my conversation?” he inquires, though a faint smile tugs at his lips.
“I did not wish to intrude,” you say quickly, flustered. “I only thought–”
“I am teasing,” he murmurs, his tone softening at once. “Do not distress yourself, my dear.”
You exhale, though the unease lingers. “What did she mean?”
For the briefest instant, something flickers behind his eyes– too swift, too sharp to name. Then it is gone, smoothed over by that same practiced composure, “It is nothing that need trouble you,” he replies lightly. “Nothing at all, Miss Y/n.”
“Jacob,” you press, quieter now.
“You look exceedingly well this evening,” he says, the compliment slipping in with deliberate ease as his gaze travels over you.
Your heart betrays you at once, skipping and quickening in equal measure. Heat rises unbidden to your cheeks. You think yourself quite ordinary– no different from any other evening– but you murmur your thanks all the same.
“Shall we attend to the west wing tonight?” he continues, already turning, as though the matter has been settled beyond recall.
And, as ever, you follow. You watch him as he speaks, your gaze lingering upon the sharp line of his profile, your thoughts turning restlessly upon themselves. Mrs. Harrow’s words echo, unwelcome and insistent.
Toying with that dear girl.
A chill touches the back of your neck. Did she mean he was unkind? Deceitful? Or something worse?
Your steps falter, just for a moment, as another thought– one you have long endeavored to dismiss– rises once more to the surface.
All the little peculiarities. The odd hours. The curious stillness about him.
Was he even human?
—
It is near midnight when you speak of it.
The house lies steeped in quiet, the sort that settles deep into the bones of old walls. A single lamp burns low upon the desk, its golden light scarcely reaching the far corners of the room. Shadows gather there, thick and unmoving.
Jacob stands across from you, one hand braced lightly against the edge of the desk as he reviews a document you had only just finished copying. His posture is, as ever, composed– effortlessly so. Too effortlessly, you think.
You watch him. You have been watching him. Too still. Always too still, “Jacob.”
He does not look up at once as he hums.
You hesitate– but only briefly, “May I ask you something… unrelated to the accounts?”
That gives him pause. His eyes lift to yours then, sharp and attentive in an instant. “You may ask.”
You clasp your hands together to still them. “It is merely a curiosity.”
A faint, knowing curve touches his mouth. “I begin to suspect your curiosities are seldom mere.”
You ignore that, “Do you ever sleep?”
The question falls between you, quiet but unmistakable. For a moment, he says nothing. Then, “I beg your pardon?”
“You are awake at all hours,” you continue, pressing on before your nerve fails you. “I have never once known you to retire before dawn, nor to rise after it. You do not keep ordinary habits.”
His gaze does not leave your face now, “Many men keep irregular hours.”
“Not like yours.” You draw a breath, steadying yourself. “And you do not eat, either.”
That, at last, earns a reaction. Small– but there. His fingers still against the paper. “I have dined,” he says evenly.
“Have you?” you ask, softer now. “I cannot recall when.”
Something shifts in the air between you– something subtle, tightening, “You observe a great deal for a clerk.”
“I must,” you return. “It is my profession to notice what others overlook.”
His expression does not change– but his attention sharpens, as though you have at last become something worth studying in turn, “Is that what this is?” he asks. “Observation?”
You hesitate, “No,” you admit. Your voice lowers, almost against your will, “It is… concern.”
That stillness again. Deeper, now. You take a step closer before you can quite think better of it. The lamplight catches his face, tracing familiar lines– yet tonight, they seem altered somehow. Harsher. Paler. “Mrs. Harrow spoke of what you are,” you say quietly. “Not who. What.”
His eyes darken– just slightly, “You heard more than you ought.”
“Then tell me,” you reply.
Silence stretches. You can hear it now– your own heartbeat, loud in your ears.
“You do not fall ill,” you continue, your voice steadier than you feel. “You do not tire. You are… cold, at times. Unnaturally so.” Your gaze flickers, just for a moment, to his hands. “And the other night–” You stop. You should not say it– You know you should not.
“And the other night?” he prompts softly.
Your breath catches, “I thought I saw…” You falter, then shake your head. “No. It was nothing. A trick of the light.”
His gaze does not waver, “Say it.” It is not a command. Not quite. Still, you do.
“I thought I saw blood.” The word hangs there, fragile and terrible. For a long moment, neither of you moves.
Then, he steps toward you. Slowly. Deliberately. You do not retreat. “You possess a most dangerous imagination,” he says, his voice low, almost gentle.
But there is something beneath it now. Something you have not heard before. Something that does not comfort. “Do I?” you whisper. His gaze searches yours, as though weighing something unseen. “Tell me,” you press, quieter still, “what are you, Jacob?”
The question settles between you like a drawn blade. This time, when he smiles, it does not reach his eyes. For a moment, he does not answer. He only looks at you.
Not as he has before– not with that easy composure, nor with the faint amusement he so often wears– but with something intent. Measuring. Weighing, “You are uncommonly brave this evening,” he says at last, his voice low, almost thoughtful.
“Or uncommonly foolish,” you return, though your breath is not as steady as you would like. “I have not yet decided which.”
That almost earns a real smile. Almost. “And if I told you,” he continues, taking another slow step nearer, “that there are some questions which, once answered, cannot be unlearned?”
A chill slips down your spine, but you hold your ground. “Then I should very much like to stop wondering.”
His gaze flickers, briefly, to your throat. So quick you might have imagined it. Might have.
“You would not,” he says quietly.
“I would.”
“You say so now.”
“And you evade me now,” you counter, more sharply than intended. “Which leads me to believe I am not so very far from the truth.”
Something in him stills at that. Not the stillness you have grown accustomed to– the poised, deliberate quiet– but something deeper. Older. As though you have brushed against the edge of something long concealed, “You ought to let this rest,” he says.
“I cannot.”
“Will not,” he corrects.
“Yes,” you say, lifting your chin slightly. “Will not.”
Silence stretches between you once more. The lamp flickers faintly, the flame bending as though touched by a breath that never quite arrives. The shadows behind him seem darker now, drawn in closer. Watching. “You see too much,” he murmurs.
“Then you should not be so… strange,” you reply before you can stop yourself.
That does it. A quiet exhale leaves him– not quite a sigh. “Strange,” he repeats, as though testing the word. Then, softer still, “Is that what you think of me?”
You hesitate, “No,” you admit. “I think you are… hiding something.”
His eyes lift fully to yours again, “And if I am?”
“Then I would prefer to know what it is.”
“And why,” he asks, stepping close enough now that the space between you narrows to something almost improper, “should you be entitled to such knowledge?”
The question strikes deeper than you expect, “I am not entitled,” you say after a moment. “But I am involved.”
That gives him pause. “You involve yourself,” he says.
“You involved me.”
A quiet beat.
His gaze searches your face again– more intently now, as though looking for something specific, “Miss Y/n,” he says at last, more carefully than before, “if there were… something about me that placed you in danger–”
“There is,” you interrupt softly. That stillness again. You continue, your voice barely above a whisper, “Do not tell me I imagine that.”
His jaw tightens. “You should leave this house.”
The words fall plainly between you. You blink. “What?”
“You should leave,” he repeats, more firmly now. “Take your wages, find another position. One better suited. One… safer.”
A hollow sort of laugh escapes you. “And abandon my work because my employer refuses to answer a question?”
“Because your employer knows more than you do,” he says, sharper now.
“Then enlighten me.”
“No.”
The force of it silences you. For a moment, neither of you speaks. Then, quieter, “You would send me away rather than trust me?”
Something flickers across his face– gone too quickly to name, “I would see you unharmed.”
“From what?” you press.
His gaze darkens, “From me.”
The words settle heavy in the air. Your heart stumbles– but not from fear alone. “No,” you say, though your voice has softened. “I do not believe that.”
“You should.”
“I have seen you,” you continue, searching his face. “Not merely this– this evasion, this distance– but the rest of you.”
Something changes then. Not in his posture. Not in his expression. But in the air itself. Dangerous, that thought seems to echo.
“Do not be so certain,” he says, very quietly.
You hold his gaze, “Then prove me wrong.”
The words are out before you can recall them. A mistake. You know it the moment they leave your lips. Because something in his restraint– whatever thin thread has held it in place– pulls taut. Then frays.
“Careful,” he murmurs. And this time, it is a warning. The word lingers, low and dangerous, curling through the space between you.
You should stop. You feel it– some instinct, deep and insistent, urging silence. Retreat. Sense. And yet, “No,” you say, though it comes quieter now, edged with something unsteady. “You will not frighten me into silence.”
His gaze sharpens. “That is not my intent.”
“Then what is?” you press, the question breaking from you before you can temper it. “You warn me away, you refuse me answers, and yet you look at me as though–”
You stop yourself. His voice drops. “As though?”
Your heart is beating too quickly now. You do not know why you say it. You do not know why the thought, half-formed and absurd as it is, suddenly demands to be spoken aloud. Perhaps because you have exhausted every reasonable explanation. Perhaps because none of them fit.
You take a step back now, not from him– but from the weight of what you are about to say.
“You are…” You swallow. “Something not meant to walk as men do.” Still nothing. No denial. No laughter. No dismissal. The quiet stretches, taut as a drawn wire. And then, with a breath you cannot quite steady–
“You are a vampire.”
The word falls between you like a stone into still water. For a moment, nothing happens.
“Well done.” The words are light. Too light. A smile follows– quick, sharp, and entirely without warmth. “You have unraveled it at last,” he continues, his tone laced with something that might almost pass for amusement, were it not so thinly held together. “The great and terrible mystery of my existence, laid bare by careful observation and a most admirable imagination.”
The mockery is gentle in sound. But not in substance. Your stomach twists, “You mock me.”
“Do I?” he returns easily. “You present me with ghost stories and expect what? A confession?”
Your gaze does not waver. “Deny it, then.” That gives him pause. Only a fraction. But you see it, “Deny it plainly,” you press, quieter now. “Look at me and tell me I am wrong.”
The silence that follows is different. He could laugh. He could dismiss you. He could call you fanciful, foolish, overtired. He does none of those things. Instead, he looks at you. And something beneath that carefully constructed composure begins, at last, to show through. Not anger. Not quite. Something tighter. Sharper. Something afraid.
“And if it were true?” he asks softly, his lips pulling back into a smug smile, and you see it. The flash of ivory– too sharp, too long, too unnatural to be human, “If I were exactly what you say– what then?”
Sacred The Josh @joshylanefleet - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
