Summary: You're Joel's adopted child, and with him out on patrol, you're stuck with chores at the stables-where your secret boyfriend Tommy makes the day a little sweeter.
A/N: This is the second part of this one shot. Here's the first part.
Tags: Jackson!Tommy Miller x Reader, Unmentioned age gap, Joel's adopted child, fem!reader
Warnings: Age gap (implied), Secret & slightly forbidden romance, Pseudo-incest (adopted kid of Joel x uncle dynamic, fictional), Kissing & suggestive make out scenes, pet names, p in v, unprotected sex, nothing too extreme, just normal smut.
The morning at the stables had been rough—long hours, heavy lifting, sore hands—but it hadn’t been all bad. Not with Tommy around. Not when he kept finding ways to sneak off for just a second, brushing against you when no one was looking, tugging you behind a stall to steal a quick kiss.
Every time his fingers grazed yours, every glance he threw over his shoulder, it made the chores feel like some kind of game. A secret just for the two of you.
By the time you and Ellie push through the front door, your hair smells like hay and your jacket’s stained with dirt, but neither of you really cares. You’re too hungry to care.
Ellie drops her coat and heads straight for the kitchen. “If I never smell another horse again, I think I’ll die happy.”
You laugh, trailing behind her. “C’mon, they’re not that bad.”
“Speak for yourself. You didn’t get kicked in the shin.”
“You got kicked because you kept smacking their asses.”
You both collapse into your usual seats at the table while the soup heats up, the kind Dina made and dropped off earlier. Ellie tosses you a spoon. You catch it without thinking.
Halfway through eating, she glances over at you, chewing slow. “So,” she says, real casual, “what’re you up to after this?”
You shrug. “Just gonna walk around a bit.”
Ellie hums. “Right. Walking.”
You raise an eyebrow. “What?”
She tilts her head. “Nothing. Just… earlier today, in the stables? You and Tommy were looking real... cozy.”
You pause. “We were working.”
“Mmhm.” She smirks. “Working. Is that what we’re calling it now? Looked more like whispering. Or maybe plotting. Or maybe making out behind a pile of hay.”
Your stomach twists, but you keep your face neutral. “You’re seriously imagining things.”
“Maybe.” She scoops up another spoonful of soup, speaking around it. “Or maybe you almost jumped out of your skin when I walked in on you two and now you’re lying to my face about going for a ‘walk.’”
You glare at her, and she grins like a devil.
“Just saying,” she adds, “if you’re gonna sneak around with the man who’s basically our uncle, maybe try not to get caught next time. You’re not exactly stealthy.”
Your cheeks burn. “Ellie—”
She holds up her hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m not judging. I’m just picturing how pissed Joel’s gonna be when he finds out.”
Ellie chuckles. “Kidding. Mostly.”
You push your bowl away and stand up. “I’m going out.”
“Right. Enjoy your walk,” she calls after you.
You’re halfway to the door when you stop, fingers still on the handle.
“Ellie,” you say quietly. “Please… don’t say anything.”
She looks up from her bowl, eyebrows raised, spoon still halfway to her mouth.
“I know it’s not—” you hesitate, tugging your sleeves down a little. “I know it’s not normal. Or smart. Or... whatever. But just—can you not tell Joel?”
Ellie leans back in her chair, eyeing you with something between amusement and curiosity. “You really like him, huh?”
You don’t answer. You don’t have to.
She teases you with a small, crooked grin, but her voice softens. “Alright. I won’t say anything.”
Relief washes over you for a second, until she adds, “But only if you don’t say anything about the tattoo.”
You blink. “What tattoo?”
She gives you a sharp look. “Exactly.”
Ellie smirks, smug and satisfied. “Have fun on your walk.”
You roll your eyes and push the door open, stepping out into the cool air, your heart already pounding for reasons that have nothing to do with the weather.
The walk to Tommy’s place is short, but your thoughts are loud.
Seriously. You’re going to knock on his door and strangle him with his own stupid scarf. Kissing you like that in the open. Whispering to you when people were around. Letting his eyes linger on you too long, like no one would notice. Like Ellie wouldn’t notice.
By the time you reach his porch, your hands are in fists in your coat pockets. You take a breath, knock once.
The door opens, and there he is. Smiling like sin.
Tommy blinks. Then laughs, low and warm. “Well, hi to you too.”
You step inside without waiting for an invitation, brushing past him. “Ellie saw us.”
He closes the door, amused. “Saw what?”
“You kissing me, dumbass.”
He raises his brows. “Wasn’t that the point?”
You whirl around. “The point was to not get caught. To keep this quiet.”
He shrugs, smile still playing at his lips. “I thought we agreed you'd be the one to talk to her.”
“I was going to,” you snap. “Just not like this. Not with her teasing me about how ‘not stealthy’ we are.”
Tommy laughs again, stepping closer. “Well, she’s got a point. You do turn into a statue every time someone walks into a room.”
You glare at him. “This isn’t funny.”
He gently hooks a finger through the belt loop of your jeans, pulling you toward him. “It’s a little funny.”
You hate how fast your anger fizzles out when he’s this close. When his hands are that sure, and his voice goes soft just for you.
“You’re impossible,” you mutter, letting him pull you in. His arms wrap around you, steady and familiar, and your cheek finds its way to his chest.
You stand there for a long minute, just breathing. Letting it settle.
And then, quietly, you say, “She said she wouldn’t tell Joel. At least… she didn’t lie about that.”
Tommy’s hand runs up and down your back. “Well. That’s something.”
He kisses the top of your head and doesn’t speak right away.
He just holds you, letting the silence settle, arms draped loosely around your waist like he’s afraid to break the moment. Then, slowly, his lips find the side of your forehead, soft and lingering. They move next to your temple, then trail lower—across the curve of your cheekbone, brushing just under your eye. Barely there. Like he's trying to memorize you one kiss at a time.
You feel the tension leave your shoulders, bit by bit. The air between you is quiet but warm, heavy with the smell of old wood and him—leather and soap and the faintest trace of horses.
“You know,” he murmurs against your skin, “if things were different… I would’ve made you dinner tonight.”
Your breath hitches slightly at how close his mouth is, how gentle his voice sounds when he’s like this—unguarded. Like it’s just you and him in the world, and nothing else matters.
“Yeah?” you say softly, eyes still closed.
“Mmhmm.” He kisses the edge of your jaw. “Something nice. Candlelight. Music, maybe. One of those half-decent bottles of wine I’ve been hoarding like they’re part of my emergency kit.”
He smiles against your neck, his voice low and playful. “Something cheesy with garlic, just to make it obvious I was trying too hard.”
You laugh quietly, turning just enough to look up at him. His eyes are already on you, dark and shining, like you’re something he still can’t quite believe is real.
“But,” he says, the smile slipping into something more sheepish, “that would mean keeping you here ‘til dinner. And by that time, Joel’ll probably be back.”
Your expression falters just a little, the reality of it slipping in around the edges.
He lifts a hand and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, the pads of his fingers lingering just a second longer than they should. “Hey,” he says gently, “I know it sucks.”
“So,” he continues, nudging your nose with his in a way that’s so stupidly tender you have to bite back a smile, “I improvised.”
You blink at him. “Improvised?”
He straightens up slightly, lips quirking like he’s proud of something and trying not to show it all at once.
You blink again. “I’m sorry, you what?”
“Crepes,” he repeats, completely serious. “Well, attempted crepes. They might technically be more like… thin, confused pancakes. But I had the spirit.”
“And I got fruit,” he adds quickly. “Sliced it myself. Even managed to scavenge some honey.”
“You made me a romantic… afternoon snack?” you say slowly, trying not to laugh.
He leans down and presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. “It was either that or burnt jerky and cold coffee. Which, don’t get me wrong, is also a very Jackson-style date, but I figured you deserved better.”
You let out a laugh, soft and incredulous, as your fingers find the edge of his collar.
“And,” he continues, voice dropping just a little, “since we both smell like we spent the night in a haystack, I may or may not have run you a bath.”
Your eyes widen slightly.
“Candles and everything,” he says, like it’s a secret. “Grabbed some dumb little wildflowers from the trail. Put ‘em by the tub. Romantic as hell.”
You can’t help the smile that breaks across your face—tired, warm, full of affection you can’t quite say out loud. Not yet. Not with everything so tangled and secret.
But it’s there. You feel it bloom in your chest, quiet and stubborn.
“You are such an idiot,” you whisper, pressing your forehead to his.
He grins, wide and boyish. “Yeah. But I’m your idiot.”
You pull back just enough to look at him in the eye, grinning. "So, Mr. Idiot, you're seriously trying to seduce me with a bath and fucked-up crepes?" You say in a teasing tone.
He brushes your hair back from your face. "Is it working?"
You kiss him, soft and sure.
"Yeah," you whisper. "It's working."
And before you can pull back, he kisses you back —this time slow, certain, with both hands on your face like he’s grounding himself in the shape of you.
And god help you, it works. It always does.
His mouth moves over yours with more hunger this time, the kind that makes your spine arch and your hands curl into the fabric of his shirt. It’s still tender—but heavier now. Focused. Like he’s been holding back all day and finally let go.
You feel him smile against your lips.
“You know,” he murmurs, voice low and rough near your ear, “I was gonna feed you crepes…”
His hands slip under the hem of your shirt, palms warm against your waist.
“…but now I’m thinkin’ I’d rather have you for dessert.”
You let out a breathy laugh, trying and failing to hide how your body reacts to that.
“What?” His mouth trails down your jaw again, slower this time, teeth grazing just enough to make you shiver. “Tell me you haven’t been thinking about it too. You’re not exactly subtle, baby.”
You try to say something clever, but then his hands slide further up your back and you just—melt. His thumbs brush your ribs, teasing at the edge of your bra, and you feel your knees go soft.
He leans into you, lips brushing just beneath your ear.
“I could put you on the kitchen table right now,” he whispers, “and still call it a meal.”
You breathe in sharply, and your nails dig into his shoulder.
“Jesus Christ,” you mutter.
“Close enough,” he says with a grin, nosing down your neck, leaving a kiss in the dip of your collarbone.
You barely manage to push at his chest—not because you want to stop, but because you can’t think when he’s touching you like that.
“Okay, okay,” you say, breathless and flushed. “Later. Maybe.”
Tommy groans, resting his forehead against yours. “Tease.”
You just smile, smug and a little dizzy.
Then you wrinkle your nose.
“God. We really smell like horse.”
Tommy leans back, sniffing the air like it just hit him. “Fuck. Yeah, that’s bad.”
You both laugh, breathless and red in the face, still tangled up in each other.
He kisses your cheek again. “Well, lucky for us…”
He steps back and makes a dramatic little bow.
“…the bath is still warm, and I did go through the effort of lighting, like, twelve damn candles.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Twelve?”
“Okay, maybe six. And one of them’s one of those weird cinnamon ones I stole from Maria’s stash. But the effort’s there.”
Then, he gestures toward the hallway. “After you, ma’am.”
You shoot him a look, but follow anyway.
The bathroom’s small, nothing fancy—just chipped tile and old walls that hum when the pipes get hot. But the tub is full, the water steaming gently. And yeah, the candles are crooked, the matches probably burned his fingers, and the flowers are half-wilted from being picked who-knows-when…
But it’s warm. It’s quiet. And it’s yours.
You pause in the doorway, lips parted, heart doing that fluttery thing again.
He shrugs, standing behind you. “Told you it wasn’t much.”
And it is. Because he did it for you.
You’re still standing there, soaking in the soft glow of the candles and the steam curling off the water, when you feel him come up behind you. His arms slide gently around your waist, pulling you back into the solid heat of his chest. You exhale slowly, your body relaxing against his without even thinking.
Then his face dips into the curve of your neck, breath warm against your skin. He doesn’t say anything at first—just breathes you in, like he's grounding himself in the scent of you, even through the sweat and dust of the stables.
“Mmm,” he hums, nuzzling close. “You kinda smell like horse shit.”
“But…” he drawls, his lips brushing just beneath your ear now, “I’m thinkin’ maybe I could help you with that.”
“I mean,” he continues, tone low and dangerous now, “if I took your clothes off real slow… and helped you into the tub… wouldn’t be such a bad way to start, would it?”
Your breath catches when his hands move to your hips, fingers curling just beneath the hem of your shirt.
You manage a soft, shaky, “Tommy…”
He tugs the fabric up inch by inch, knuckles grazing your sides as he lifts it over your head and lets it fall to the floor behind you. His hands find your bare skin, trailing light, teasing lines along your waist, up your spine.
He presses another kiss to your neck—hotter this time, slower—and then his fingers drift toward the button of your jeans.
“You sure?” he murmurs, lips brushing your skin.
You nod once, breathless.
His hands work patiently, undoing the button, sliding the denim down your thighs. The rough fabric brushes your legs as it falls, pooling around your ankles. He doesn’t rush—he touches you like he’s unwrapping something fragile and sacred.
His palms find your thighs, then your stomach, then up, feather-light, tracing the line of your ribs through the lace of your bra. Not fully touching, not yet. Just exploring.
“God, baby,” he breathes, voice barely above a whisper, “you always do this to me…”
And then he steps back, just far enough to take in the sight of you, lips parted, chest rising and falling fast, candlelight dancing across your skin.
You don’t feel nervous. Not with him. Not when he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world worth worshipping.
He reaches up again, eyes on yours, and slowly undoes the clasp at your back. The straps fall from your shoulders, and you feel the heat of his gaze like a second touch.
Then he’s on you again—his hands, his mouth, trailing worship down your neck, your shoulder, the dip of your spine. But softer now. Calmer. Like he knows what’s coming next.
“C’mon,” he murmurs, hand finding yours. “Water’s gonna get cold.”
"Eager, are we?" You mumble and slowly slide your panties off, letting them drop to the floor. Tommy’s arms tighten around your waist, steadying you, but then he sighs softly, almost like he’s holding his breath.
You glance over your shoulder, catching his gaze just before it flickers away, a shadow of hesitation in his eyes.
“What are you still doing with your clothes on?” you tease, voice low, breath warm against his skin.
His lips twitch into a small smile, but there’s a spark of mischief there, too.
“That,” he murmurs, “isn’t gonna be a problem.”
Slowly, deliberately, he begins peeling off his own clothes, one piece at a time. His shirt slips off his shoulders, revealing the scars and lean muscle beneath. His jeans follow, folding on the floor beside yours.
You slide down into the bath, the warm water enveloping your skin, steam curling around you like a soft blanket.
Just as you settle in, feeling the tension in your muscles begin to ease, Tommy steps in behind you, letting the water lap around his legs.
His hands find your hips, steadying you as you lean back against him, the warmth of his bare chest pressing into your back.
You rest your head on his shoulder, eyes closing for a moment as his breath fans across your neck.
Naked and vulnerable, but safe.
He wraps his arms around you, fingers tracing lazy circles along your sides, and you feel a quiet comfort in the way he holds you—like he’s never going to let go.
His mouth lands on your shoulder blade, carefully nibbling and trailing kisses there.
You gasp and lean backwards further, Tommy takes this as a green light.
His hands roam freely over your torso until they reach your breasts, wrapping them in a teasing squeeze and playing with them.
“‘Hmm’ indeed baby… just relax”
His warm breath sends shivers down your spine as he trails kisses along your shoulder, moving his lips to the sensitive skin of your neck. His hands roam over your breasts, cupping and kneading the soft flesh, thumbs brushing over your nipples as they harden in response.
"Mmm, you feel so good, baby... I could touch you all day," he murmurs, his voice husky with desire.
One hand slides lower, fingers skimming your belly button before dipping beneath the water to explore the warm, slick skin of your thighs.
“I love how responsive you are to my touch. You make me crazy with want, darling."
His other hand continues to play with your nipples, rolling and pinching the sensitive buds as he nips at your earlobe. The water in the tub laps gently at your sides, but all your attention is focused on Tommy's skilled fingers and the pleasure they're creating.
As in autopilot, your legs squeeze together, searching for some kind of friction.
He chuckles low in his throat, sensing your need. His fingers trail up your inner thighs, teasing you with brushes against your sensitive flesh before finally settling on your slick, heated core. You open your legs almost instantly. lHe parts your lips with a finger, circling your clit in slow, deliberate strokes.
"Oh, you're so ready for me, aren't you? You always become this quiet when your needy," he praises, his voice tinged with lust.
You just respond with a groan, half-annoyed at his teasing and half-aroused.
As if in response he begins to rub your clit more firmly, the pleasure mounting quickly. Your breath hitches.
"You like that, baby? You like when I touch you just like this?"
You moan shakily in response and he notices your increasing squirms, smiling to himself and knowing he's getting close to making you come. He leans in to whisper in your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.
"I love watching you lose control like this. It's so fucking sexy.”
God, you loved his dirty talk and he knew it, using it to his own advantage.
Tommy's own arousal is evident, his hardness pressing insistently against your backside as he grinds against you.
"That's it, just give in to it. Let me make you feel good, baby. You know I'll take care of you," he assures you, his fingers never ceasing their relentless teasing of your clit.
He dips a finger inside you, curling it to stroke that sensitive spot within as his thumb continues its maddening circles on your clit. You respond with a loud moan while grabbing his wrist abruptly and forcing his finger deeper inside of you.
The water in the tub sloshes gently with your movements, but Tommy's focus is solely on bringing you to the brink of ecstasy.
He catches your clue and inserts another finger. His other hand continues to palm your breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers as he continues to drive you wild with pleasure.
Not caring about the mess the water was making outside the tub anymore you back your hips, following his movements and trusting him deeper.
Your urgent movements only spur him on, and he increases the intensity of his strokes, fingers plunging deeper into your wet heat as his thumb presses harder against your throbbing clit.
"Yeah, just like that, baby. Fuck yourself on my fingers, show me how much you need it," he encourages, his own arousal growing with each of your desperate thrusts.
He leans in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he murmurs,
"I'm going to make you come so hard, girl. You will scream my name and I'll fill you up with my cock afterwards."
The dark promises only made you get even closer, you couldn’t think straight anymore.
“Please… please Tommy. Make me come… please…”
The desperate plea in your voice is like music to his ears, and he responds by driving his fingers deep inside you, curling them to stroke that sweet spot within as his thumb presses firmly against your clit.
"That's it, baby, let it happen. I've got you, I won't stop until you're screaming," he promises, his own voice husky with lust.
He continues his relentless pace, feeling your walls clench and flutter around his fingers as your orgasm rapidly approaches. The water in the tub churns with your movements, and Tommy's free hand roams over your throat to apply just the right amount of pleasure.
As he feels your climax building, he leans in his head from behind, searching you. His mouth brushes yours as you turn your head towards him. He captures your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving deep to taste you as he brings you to the precipice.
"Come for me, princess," he growls against your mouth.
“Fuck, Tommy…” you moan into his mouth.
The moment you reach your peak, he increases the pressure and pace, fingers pumping in and out of you as his thumb rubs firm circles on your clit. He feels your walls clench and ripple around his fingers.
"That's it, baby, let it all out. I've got you, I'll catch you," he murmurs, his own voice thick with lust as he helps ride out the waves of your climax.
As the final tremors and whimpers subside, he gentles his touch, pulling his fingers from your still-quivering heat with a slick sound. He brings them to his lips, tasting you with a low groan of appreciation.
"Delicious," he praises while he tilts his head down, his eyes locking onto yours with a smoldering intensity.
You finally relax every muscle in your body and lean back in his chest while gasping for air.
“You okay, sweetheart?” Tommy asks while looking down at you.
You hum in response just to shift your position and sit on his lap, straddling him.
Tommy's eyes lit up with desire as he gazed up at you, his hands coming to rest on your hips. His thumbs brushed gently against your sides as he looked at you with a playful, loving expression.
"Well, well... Looks like someone's ready for round two, huh?" he teased in a low, husky tone, his erection pressing insistently against your belly.
“That was just an appetizer honey, you should know that,” you tease him back with a sly grin. “Need to take care of you too…”
He bit his lower lip in response.
"I think I can accommodate that." With an aroused look, Tommy wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you in closer, his lips trailing kisses along your collarbone as he spoke.
"Mmm, you taste even sweeter than the bubbles we're soaking in, baby." He nipped at your skin, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine as his hands began to roam over your body once more, exploring and caressing every curve.
"Let's see if we can make this bath even more... eventful.”
You lifted your hips slightly, just enough to give him space to slide himself in.
Tommy's eyes flashed with anticipation as he watched you, his cock twitching with eagerness. As you lowered yourself onto him, he let out a low groan, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips.
"Fuck, girl... You feel amazing," he murmured, his voice strained with pleasure as you enveloped him in your warmth.
"So tight and wet... Just perfect." Tommy slowly thrust up to meet you, his length stretching and filling you completely as he savored the sensation of being inside you.
His hands slid up your back to twine in your hair, tugging gently to tilt your head back and expose the tender skin of your throat. He leaned in to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jawline, his hips beginning to rock in a slow, sensual rhythm.
“Fuck… you look so sexy when you ride me…” he muttered in between some groans of pleasure.
He continued to thrust upwards, his movements gentle at first, gradually picking up speed as his desire grew. The water sloshed around you, creating a sensual backdrop for your intimate encounter. Tommy's hands slid up your sides to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples as he continued to pump into you.
"That's it, baby... Take all of me,"
You couldn’t think, couldn’t talk, couldn’t do anything else except bounce on him, moaning like your life depended on it.
Tommy's eyes rolled back in bliss as you continued to move on his thick shaft, the water splashing around you in rhythmic time with your movements. His hands roamed over your body, squeezing and caressing every inch of exposed skin he could reach.
"Oh, damn princess... You're driving me wild," he panted, his breathing growing heavier as his arousal mounted. "Your tight little pussy feels like heaven wrapped around me."
He picked up the pace, meeting your bounces thrust for thrust. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, mingling with your moans and his grunts of pleasure.
"That's it, baby... Ride me hard. Show me how much you want it," Tommy growled, his own climax building at the base of his spine. "I'm gonna fill you up so good when I cum... You ready for that?”
“Fuck yes… please…” you muttered.
Tommy's grip on your hips tightened as he felt your words ignite his passion even further. With a deep, primal growl, he surged up into you, his thick length hitting that sweet spot inside you that made your toes curl.
"Fuck yeah, baby... Take it all" he roared, his thrusts becoming erratic and powerful as he chased his release. "I'm gonna cum so deep inside you... You're gonna be dripping with it."
The feeling of his hot, pulsing seed filling you up was intense, and Tommy's pleasure reached a boiling point. He buried himself to the hilt, grinding against you as he emptied himself inside your welcoming body.
You tensed around him, the whole scenario made you reach your peak again: his grunts, flushed cheeks, curses of ecstasy, and the feel of him dripping inside of you… God.
"Honey... Oh god, Tommy!" You cried out, your voice raw with ecstasy.
"So good... You're so fucking good to me." Tommy collapsed back against the tub, panting heavily as he tried to catch his breath. He wrapped his arms around you to pull you against his chest, holding you close as he savored the afterglow of their intense lovemaking.
Your breathing is still uneven, shallow and fast against his skin. Tommy’s chest rises and falls beneath you, damp with sweat and steam, arms wrapped tightly around your waist like he’s afraid de soltarte demasiado pronto.
His lips brush your temple—barely a kiss, more like a sigh against your skin. You can feel his heart still pounding through his ribs, slow and heavy now, settling down along with yours.
“So good,” he murmurs again, voice rough, low. “You’re so fucking good to me.”
You shift just slightly, only enough to lift your head and look at him. His eyes are half-lidded but soft, focused entirely on you. You kiss the base of his throat gently, and he hums in contentment.
For a few long moments, neither of you moves. The bathroom is quiet, save for the gentle crackle of candle flames and the distant creak of old pipes. The water laps softly around your bodies, now barely lukewarm.
Then Tommy blinks, his brow furrowing slightly.
He lifts his head, peers over the edge of the tub—then lets it fall back with a groan.
You twist around to look too, and—
Yeah. The entire bathroom floor is soaked. A full lake has formed beneath the tub, creeping under the cabinet, seeping into the old rug, glistening in the candlelight.
“Shit,” you mutter, covering your mouth with your hand, trying not to laugh.
Tommy sighs dramatically. “I spent an hour running that bath.”
You grin at him, still breathless. “You also spent twenty minutes rocking the entire tub.”
He raises an eyebrow at you. “I wasn’t the only one rocking.”
He chuckles and kisses your forehead again, then rubs a hand down your back, gentle and lazy. “Guess I’m moppin’ later.”
You hum against his chest, closing your eyes. “Yeah. It really was.”
At some point, the laughter settles, and you both go quiet again, chest to chest, skin to skin, half-submerged in the now-lukewarm water. The candles flicker softly around you, their wax melting in lazy drips.
Then you speak, your voice sleepy and amused against his collarbone.
“We’ve been in this damn tub forever... and we didn’t even bathe.”
Tommy chuckles, a low sound deep in his chest. “Yeah, well. Priorities.”
You groan softly, nuzzling into his skin. “We smell like horse, sweat, and now candle smoke.”
He presses a kiss to your shoulder and shifts beneath you. “Alright, alright. Let’s wash for real before Joel walks in here someday and finds us pickled.”
You snort and pull away, slowly, limbs heavy and warm. You both get up, the water sloshing as you step out carefully onto the soaked floor. Tommy grabs a towel and hands it to you first with a boyish little “your highness” kind of grin.
And then you both shower.
No rush this time. No games. Just warm water over tired bodies, fingers scrubbing gently, shared smiles and soft kisses under the stream. You help him get the soap out of his hair. He runs his hands along your back with a tenderness that makes your chest ache in the best way. There’s something holy in it—simple, small, but holy.
When you step out, the mirror’s fogged over, your hair dripping, his towel slung low on his hips as he reaches for a second one to toss your way.
“I’ll go grab something to wear,” you mumble, wrapping it around yourself.
“Top drawer,” he says. “Shirts that don’t fit me anymore. I keep ‘em for sentimental value and situations just like this.”
Tommy’s room smells like him.
Wood. Leather. Clean cotton. You walk in slowly, the floor creaking under your bare feet. Everything about the room is modest, a little messy but lived-in. Comfortable.
You open the drawer he mentioned and pull out a worn grey shirt, one that’s softened over time and clearly stretched at the collar. It smells faintly of soap and him and sun.
You slip it on, no bra underneath, and it falls low over your thighs, practically a dress on you. You breathe in once, deeply. It feels like home.
On your way to the kitchen, you pause in the hallway, glancing toward the bathroom.
Tommy is there—kneeling on the soaked floor, trying to mop up the water with an old towel and swearing under his breath. His hair is wet and sticking up in every direction, towel still around his hips.
You press your lips together to stifle a laugh.
“You look like a raccoon trying to clean up a crime scene.”
He shoots you a mock glare over his shoulder. “Go eat your damn crepes.”
You blow him a kiss and keep walking.
The kitchen is dim but cozy, the late afternoon light seeping through the curtains. The plate of crepes is still on the table—slightly sad-looking now, a little cold, edges curling. But you sit down and pull one toward you anyway.
They’re thin, messy, and kind of undercooked. But they’ve got honey and fruit inside, and you don’t care. You take a bite, and your eyes flutter shut.
When Tommy finally walks in, his towel gone, a pair of worn sweatpants clinging to his hips, his chest bare and still damp, he finds you there: curled up in one of his chairs, sleeves of his shirt draped over your hands, eating cold crepes like it’s the best thing in the world.
He pauses in the doorway for a second, like he’s committing it to memory.
Then he crosses the room and drops a kiss to the top of your head before collapsing into the chair beside you.
You glance at him and smile. “Terrible.”
He laughs, and you feed him a piece anyway. He chews, shrugs. “Yeah, they suck.”
He looks at you then, really looks—hair still wet, cheeks pink from the shower, your legs folded beneath you, his oversized shirt swallowing your frame. And he just… smiles. Not the crooked, teasing one he always wears. A real one. Quiet. Full.
And somehow, without needing to say it out loud, you both know you’ll remember this afternoon for a long, long time.
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