warnings: nsfw 18+, multiple positions and orgasms, unprotected sex, fucks you where someone could see, oral sex, dirty talks and a lot more. minors dni.
synopsis: your next-door neighbor Xavier has always fixed whatever breaks in your place and you’ve repaid him with home-cooked meals he never asked for. You both tried to keep it neighborly, but the tension between you has been simmering for months...until the day a private package is accidentally delivered to him and he shows up at your door holding the already-opened box, the last of your restraint snaps. What starts as another “offer to help” ends with him fucking you in every spot he’s ever repaired.
Xavier lived right next door. Same floor, shared wall, the quiet neighbor you only ever spoke to when something broke.
He fixed things. Faucets that dripped, lights that flickered, the stubborn AC condenser on the balcony that leaked every summer. He never asked for payment. You started bringing him food instead. containers of leftovers, home-cooked meals, because the man lived on takeout and seemed to have zero interest in learning how to cook.
Over time the exchanges became routine. You relied on his hands; he relied on your kitchen. You both tried to keep it neighborly. But it never stayed that way because the two of you keep getting entangled in embarassing situations.
Awkward situations that surely builds tension between you.
One afternoon he replaced your kitchen light, the heat made him strip down to a thin white undershirt. Every time he reached overhead the fabric rode up, showing the hard ridges of his abs. You held the stepladder and stared. When he climbed down and caught you looking, he only said, “It’s done,” but the corner of his mouth twitched.
Another night you knocked on his door with a container of stew. He opened the door in nothing but dark boxers, hair still damp, chest gleaming from a shower. Your ears burned so hot you almost dropped the food. He took it with a quiet “thanks” and didn’t close the door until you’d already turned away.
Then the laundry room at the lower floor. You both reached for the same machine. Your lace underwear slipped from the basket and landed on his foot. He bent, picked it up and looked at it before giving it to you. It was embarassing that you mumbled thanks and immediately fled.
The worst was the night your friend got you half-drunk and dumped you at the building entrance. Xavier happened to be there. Your friend, loud and shameless, told him everything. how you gossiped about his abs, how you’d ogled him, how the quiet ones were always the freakiest.
Xavier guided you upstairs with an arm around your waist, and let you lean into him the whole way. Somewhere between the elevator and your door, you kept running your palm over his abs over his shirt, murmuring that they felt even better than they looked. He didn’t stop you. The next morning he said nothing about it, but every time he fixed something after that he’d murmur, mild and playful, “Don’t drink too much next time. You’ll end up in a very dangerous situation.”
You thought that was the peak of the embarrassment.
Not until the tracking update for your package notified you.
The photo of proof showed a pair of long legs in dark sweatpants. Xavier’s—accepting a package from the courier. No face, but you’d stared at that body enough times to know it by the way he stood.
Of all the things that could have been misdelivered to him...
You stared at the screen, stomach dropping, and prayed he wouldn’t open it.
The doorbell rang less than ten minutes later.
You opened the door and found him standing there with the already-torn package in one hand. The cardboard was ripped enough that the unmistakable shape was visible.
“Sorry,” he said, voice low. "I opened it before I checked the name.” He held it out. “It's yours.”
You took it, ears burning. “Delivery mix-up. Happens.”
He didn’t leave. He just stood there in the doorway, quiet the way he always was, eyes steady on yours. The silence stretched until it felt charged.
“You need help with anything else tonight?” he asked, the same offer he’d made a hundred times for faucets and light fixtures. Only this time the corner of his mouth twitched, just barely, and you both knew exactly what he was offering.
Your throat worked. “I’ll… think about it.”
He nodded once and turned to go.
You closed the door, leaned against it, and exhaled shakily. The package sat on the counter like an accusation.
Later that night, you stared and decided to try the freakn' toy. It was slick, chasing you to the edge—but it wasn’t enough. Not when every stroke made you picture his hands, his abs, the way he’d looked standing in your doorway holding the damn thing.
You grabbed your phone and sent a message.
Xav, the toy you returned wasn’t enough.
You still offering to help?
The doorbell rang again before you could second-guess yourself.
You opened it and Xavier stepped in without a word, kicked the door shut behind him, and kissed you like he’d been waiting months for permission. His mouth was hot, insistent; one hand cupped the back of your neck while the other slid under your shirt, palm dragging up your spine. You moaned into the kiss and he answered with a low sound that vibrated against your tongue.
He walked you backward until your shoulders hit the wall, then broke the kiss just long enough to murmur against your mouth, “You sure you want my help?"
You nod in an instant, wrapping your arms on his neck. "You're the only one who can fix this itch. Screw me Xavier."
"Shit, I’m going to fuck you in every spot I’ve fixed in this place. Call it payment.”
You laughed breathlessly, already tugging at his shirt. “Quiet people are the freakiest. I knew it.”
“Yeah?” He pulled the shirt off in one motion, then yours. “You're not wrong."
He kissed down your throat, open-mouthed and wet, teeth scraping lightly over your collarbone. His tongue traced the line of your sternum, then lower, circling a nipple until you arched. “Been watching you watch me,” he said between licks. “Every time I reach up to change a bulb. Every time you bring food and stare at my chest. You wanted this.”
He pushed you down onto the couch, hooked his fingers in your waistband, and dragged your shorts and underwear down together. The second the fabric cleared your thighs he leaned in and dragged his tongue through your folds in one long, messy stroke. You gasped his name. He did it again, slower, then sealed his mouth over your clit and sucked.
It was earnest and filthy. no teasing, just wet heat and the sound of him eating you like he’d been starving for it. His hands gripped your ass, pulling you tighter against his face while his tongue fucked into you in short, deep thrusts. You tangled your fingers in his hair and rolled your hips, moaning “Xavier.. oh fuck, eat me more, yes!” until your legs started to shake. He didn’t stop until you came on his tongue, thighs clamping around his head, your voice cracking on his name.
You barely recovered before you shoved him onto his back on the carpet, right under the light fixture he’d replaced last month. “Look at what you fixed,” you said, straddling his thighs and working his sweatpants down and removing it. His cock sprang free, thick and already leaking, admiring his veiny appetizing length. You wrapped your hand around him, stroked once, then took him into your mouth as deep as you could.
He cursed under his breath, one hand settling in your hair. “Fuck! look at you. Taking it like that under the light I put in. You’re so fucking wet still, I can see it.”
You hummed around him and he jerked. You sucked harder, hollowed your cheeks, let saliva drip down his shaft while your free hand cupped his balls. His hips twitched but he didn’t force anything; he just watched with dark eyes as you worked him. When he warned you he was close you stayed right there, and he came with a low groan, spilling across your tongue. You swallowed and kept licking until he pulled you up by the arms.
You climbed onto him properly, sinking down onto his still-hard cock in one slow slide. Both of you exhaled at the same time. For a moment you just sat there, feeling the stretch, the heat, the way his abs flexed under your palms. Then you started to move. slow rolls at first, grinding your clit against him, then rising and dropping faster. He gripped your hips and met every downward stroke with a thrust of his own.
“That’s it,” he gritted. “Ride me. Use me. Been thinking about this every time you brought me food and pretended you weren’t staring.”
“Xavier...Yes—fuck! Your dick is so much better than that toy, ohh...”
You bounced harder, nails digging into his chest, moaning his name every time he bottomed out. He came first this time, hips snapping up, flooding you while you kept riding through it until your own orgasm hit and you collapsed forward onto him, both of you breathing hard.
He stood, still inside you, and carried you to the kitchen sink, the one whose faucet he’d fixed three weeks ago. He set you on the cold counter, pulled out almost all the way, then slammed back in. The angle was deeper here. You wrapped your legs around his waist and held on while he fucked you in short, powerful strokes, the sound of skin on skin loud in the quiet apartment.
“This sink,” he said against your ear. “I fixed the drip. Now I’m going to fill you up right here.”
You came again with a broken cry. He followed seconds later, burying himself to the hilt and grinding through it.
Still not finished, he carried you out to the small balcony where he’d repaired the leaking AC condenser last summer. The night air was cool against overheated skin. The city stretched out below. lights, distant traffic, the soft hum of other people’s lives. Anyone looking up from the right angle might see.
Xavier turned you around and bent you over the railing, one hand pressing between your shoulder blades until your chest met the cool metal. He dragged the head of his cock through the mess of cum already leaking down your thighs, then pushed in slow, letting you feel every inch.
“Fuck,” he muttered. “You’re still so full of me and still this tight.”
You pushed back, taking him deeper. He started thrusting...long, deliberate strokes at first, the wet sound of his cock sliding through his own cum loud in the open air. One hand gripped your hip hard enough to bruise; the other reached around and found your clit, rubbing in firm circles timed with every thrust.
“Anyone could look up,” he said against your ear, voice rough. “See me fucking you right here.”
“Let them. I don’t care, ohh...your cock feels so good, yes! don't stop Xavier-fuck me harder..”
He did. Long, wet strokes at first, then harder, the slap of skin on skin sharp in the night air. Your moans spilled out unchecked. He pulled almost all the way out, then slammed back in to the hilt, grinding deep so you felt the thick base of him stretch you open. Cum from earlier dripped down your thighs with every thrust, mixing with fresh slick.
He pulled out suddenly, spun you around, your back feeling the railings. He hooked one of your leg over his arms, your other feet on the ground, spreading you wide, and drove back into you in one hard thrust. The new angle made you cry out, the head of his cock dragging over the spot that made your vision blur.
“Look at you,” he growled. “spread wide like this, taking every inch. Gonna fill you again. Want it?”
“Yes please, ohh Xavier, come inside me!”
He thrust harder, the wet sounds obscene. You could feel how messy you already were, how every stroke pushed more of his earlier cum out around his cock. He leaned in and bit the side of your neck, then licked the mark.
“Gonna cream this pussy again. Right here on the balcony. Where anyone could see.”
You came hard from the dirty talk, walls clenching, a broken moan of his name spilling into the open air. He didn’t stop. He kept fucking you through it, chasing his own release, until his rhythm broke. He slammed in deep one last time and held there, cock pulsing as he came. hot, thick pulses flooding you, more than before. You felt every spurt, the way it filled you until it started leaking out around him even while he was still buried to the hilt.
He stayed inside you for a long moment, breathing hard against your neck, still twitching with aftershocks. When he finally pulled out, a thick rope of cum followed, sliding down your inner thigh. He watched it with dark eyes, then pushed two fingers back into you, scooping some of it and pressing it deeper again.
“Stay full,” he murmured. “I want it leaking out of you the rest of the night.”
You were both wrecked by then. sweaty, shaking, skin marked and sticky. He carried you back inside and collapsed with you on the couch, your legs still trembling.
You traced lazy circles on his well-defined abs. “Thank you. For… all the fixing. And this.”
He huffed a quiet laugh. “You should break something in the bedroom next. And the bathroom. Give me a reason to come back and fuck you there too.”
You grinned. “You don’t need a reason. You can come over whenever you want.”
He kissed the top of your head. “Same goes for my place. We help each other out.”
You stayed like that for a long time, the apartment quiet except for the soft sound of his breathing and the distant city noise, the air still thick with everything you’d just done in every room he’d ever repaired.
