genre: smut, humor, yearning, tiny bit of fluff, virgin!reader, innocent!reader, experienced!oscar, sub!reader (for a while!), dom!oscar (for a while!)
word count: 8.5k
After a painful break up, Oscar finds himself head-to-head with an enticing girl, filled with pure innocence. Also known as, his parents secret weapon, and his worst temptation.
nsfw warning under the cut!
18+...f!receiving, fingering, brief mentions of masturbation, face riding, missionary sex, doggy style
inspired by this !
cherry here!... hellooo anons, long time, no see haha sorry for the lack of posts, but hopefully this makes up for it, somehow? formal apology for my last post too while we're at it. though this fic is inspired by cola by lana del rey, it will not have a sour ending like past fics (iykyk). missed u all, so here ya go! enjoy :)
There is an apprehensive sensation that towers over him as soon as she walks in; shy mannered, tall, and firm with a hint of hesitation—it’s something he adores about her, but also something that has him feeling jittery. Oftentimes, her lips are his most prized possession, enjoying the way they move. All except at this very moment.
Everyone notices his bitter, broken, and quiet mood despite always laying low. He’s never been one to share his problems with others, and he most definitely was not going to start now. It should be the best moment of the season—his first win—but he doesn’t have the joy to celebrate it with anyone.
Oscar’s brown eyes are low and dull; empty. He’d be a damn liar if he said he didn’t see any of this coming. If he didn’t feel an ounce of guilt and misery. Should he have been more attentive, a better boyfriend, then he wouldn’t be regretting his life choices. Dramatic, but true.
“How are you spending your summer break? Are you and Lily traveling?”
The Australian tries to scoff at the innocent inquiry beaming from his teammate, but he settles with a wince, not being able to hide it. “She, um…we broke up, actually.” He’s never been a religious individual—has never even set foot inside a church—but for the first time in his life, he prayed no more questions would be asked.
Lando raises his thick brows, clearly surprised by the sudden confession. Sure, they were a private couple—likely the most in the entire paddock—but he never saw this coming from Oscar and Lily. Though he only met her a couple of times, simply exchanging a kind greeting, he would’ve bet his entire Rolex collection that the couple were smitten with one another. “Ah, I’m sorry, mate.”
The rude sound of his race suit being zipped up harshly makes the Brit flinch in the slightest. “Don’t worry about it. That’s life, no?”
Costa Rica—they were supposed to go to Costa Rica. Instead, now, he sits alone on a flight back to his home country. He’s ecstatic to be sleeping in his childhood room with outdated posters hung of all his favorite drivers, but the feeling lingers.
Sprawled like a koala, humid t-shirt pressed against his skin, he tosses and turns for an estimate of five whole minutes. He should be enjoying the beach, sipping on highly sweetened margaritas, getting the worst tan of his life, but he’s here. The hot summer air in Melbourne makes him spit out a string of dirty curses that would send his mum into a coma.
The brunette might as well be an only child since not a single one of his three sisters were here to keep him company, ditching him with his parents. He loved them, of course he did, but a full house was his ideal way to spend his break. His home gym isn’t even enough to help him forget, even for a second.
“Dinner is ready, honey,” Nicole announces, peeking carefully through the crack of the door. She grins widely. “There’s even pavlova—your favorite.”
He forces a polite nod, shaggy hair dangling just above his eyes. “Thank you. I’ll be out in a bit.” It actually takes a sum of thirty-minutes for him to jog down the stairs, a strong scent of apple expanding from his now washed hair. His dad hums as soon as he spots the McLaren driver.
“It’s rude to leave guests waiting, Oscar,” he warns with a deep voice.
The twenty-three year old assumes it’s a lame dad joke, perhaps, so runs along with it, taking a good look around the dining room. “Won’t happen again. I showered—”
“Where would you like to place the dessert, Mrs. Piastri?” a soft voice echoes down the hallway as he turns at the unfamiliar tone. You halt, caught off guard by the new presence. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you would be here.”
“In my own home?” he finds himself squeaking involuntarily. The stern look that dances across his parents faces is enough for him to bite down on his tongue. He doesn’t even know why he said any of that—especially to a stranger.
They introduce you two quickly, though you’re just as fast as to say that you obviously knew about his existence. Do you follow my races? You shake your head, glossy hair shining. “I work for your parents, so…I sort of know. Plus, your sisters always talk highly about you when you’re gone.”
He blinks. “You work here?” Brown eyes flicker to his parents, confusion written all over. “What could she possibly do?”
“Oscar,” Nicole scolds. “I thought you left all the unnecessary questions back in junior high.”
Chris slides a large hand over her smaller one, calming her down just a tad bit. The older man sighs. “You know your mum, always looking for something new to do—”
“I wanted to grow a garden!” she squeals, delighted. “Like in all those magazines you get me for my birthday—oh, so lovely, honey. Only I realized, I don’t know anything about gardening.”
“And this lovely girl standing right here is a total natural. Her hands must be magic.” Oscar blushes hard at his dads choice of words. “She’s helping us out for the time being. Until we get back.”
The Australian's mouth opens, then snaps back shut, swallowing. “Get back from where?”
“Costa Rica!”
He gapes. “You’re using my tickets?”
Nicole winces. “Can’t let them go to waste, honey…”
His father butts in. “How is Lily by the way?”
The brunette groans, running his hands through his waves. “How should I know? Come on, you guys can’t be serious.” The tickets weren’t the problem; the fact that they were leaving was. He spots you awkwardly placing the pastry down onto the table. “Can you give us a minute?”
“Yes, of course,” you quip, glad to have a reason to flee far enough away from the premises. You turn to the Piastri’s who smile fondly at your understanding. “I’ll be out in the garden.”
As soon as you rush out, the twenty-three year old turns swiftly. “I guess I’m leaving too.”
“Don’t you dare, Oscar Jack Piastri—”
He fumes. “Why not? You’re all going to be gone!”
“She won’t—you are keeping her company.” She’s not asking; she’s demanding. Staring back in shock, the McLaren driver avoids eye contact, fidgeting like a kid at their first day of school. His mum stands up, makes her way over, and pecks his soft cheek. “She’s a sweet girl. She won’t be a bother—she’s just down the hallway.”
That’s where Lily would always stay back when they first started their relationship; too afraid of making a bad impression on his parents. He found it adorable. He rolls his eyes and releases a heavy breath. “Fine.” He stares out the glass window, focusing on where you patiently sit on the wooden bench, delicate hands pressing your dress down against your thighs. “Fine...”
-
The following morning, his parents wake him up at the crack of dawn, bidding goodbye. It comes as a total surprise, thinking he had a few more days left with them, but no. He’s barely registering any of it before they whisper inaudible nonsense and scurry out of his bedroom.
After some debating, he changes and decides to go on a quick run. The sight of Ms. Alleck watering her burnt grass makes him smile as he sets off. It would have been easier to not get as tired if it were a slight bit chilly, but it’s blazing hot. He cuts it short, dashing back home and immediately serving himself a glass of cold water.
“You’re up early.”
The brown eyed boy jumps in sudden surprise. Standing in a pastel yellow sleeping gown, you grin brightly. Long lashes lay flat, nose pinching rosy pink, and breath minty. “Yeah, my folks sort of woke me up. Couldn’t fall back asleep.”
“Oh.” You pout. “They left already?”
“You knew?”
“Yup. They mentioned it last night before bed.” A beat. “I hope me staying here isn’t making you uncomfortable…it’s just that they offered, and—”
“It’s not.” Lie. “Make yourself at home.”
Not much is seen or heard from him for the majority of the day; occasional glaces coming here and there. They put you in an uncomfortable spot yesterday—you had been working on the garden for a year now, damn it—but their son's demeanor took you by surprise. The pictures and stories were something you relied on as the only source of getting to know him: polite, tall, and swanky—boyish.
That was so far from the truth. Oscar Piastri has grown into his body; almost appearing to be a handsome giant. Despite his warm face, his attitude is a bit snarky. He has no problem in saying what’s on his mind. And he is most definitely not a boy.
He’s a man.
“What do you say?”
“Sorry?”
He chuckles, Adam's Apple dancing up and down. “Would you like to join me for dinner?”
It wasn't his intention to try and get close to you—not purposefully, at least—but he thought; why not? Who knows when his parents are coming back, when his sisters would, and he wanted to prove to you that he wasn’t some snotty guy. Summer is summer, after all. A friend to spend it with sounds quite nice.
Pursing your red lips, you nod, setting your book aside. The dinner table is already set up. Chicken and rice. That’s it. Given, it looks and smells amazing, but plain. You quirk a brow. “Aren’t you supposed to eat your greens? To drive quicker?” He burns up at you teasing tone.
“I didn’t want to risk burning the house down. We’re lucky I was able to get even this done.”
“Very well.” The refrigerator opens, colorful veggies staring back at him. You grin, slow and easy. “I’ll take care of it. It’s only fair, roomie.”
-
Oscar left home a few years ago, migrating to the United Kingdom for work, so it had been a while since he had stepped foot in his backyard. He faintly remembers his pirate treehouse, his sisters’ Barbie’s cluttered inside. It was a bone-chilling sight for baby Oscar back then, but now, the paint is chipping off, the wood looks a lot weaker. It’s a nostalgic feeling.
The new additions are stunning. A bunch of healthy flowers beam back at him and he swallows when he realizes he can’t name a single one. Waxflowers, Calamint, Dahlias, Peonies, Carnations, California Poppies. One by one, he admires with an open mouth. “They’re beautiful.” He turns to you with a proud smile. “You’ve done an excellent job.”
Pink feathers onto your already blushed cheeks, biting back a cheesy grin. You had decided to eat out on the bench, choosing to enjoy the now fresh air. Still humid, but less than before. The scent of coconut sunscreen makes his whiff constantly. “So…Costa Rica?”
He winces. It was too soon to talk about the situation, but something in your calm voice makes it easier to spit it out even though you probably already heard from his parents. All of a sudden, your savory carrots taste like complete shit. “T’was supposed to go with my girlf—my ex. My ex-girlfriend.”
You pout, sorrowfully. “Oh, I’m sorry, Oscar. I didn’t mean to…I had no clue.” And it’s genuine. Guess his parents were complete traitors.
“Tell me—how long have you been working on fixing the garden?”
“Since last summer,” you hum, chewing down on a piece of grilled chicken. “This is the first time I have actually stayed here, though. Your parents are sweet. As soon as they heard that you were coming back home, they insisted I kept you company.”
Sharp jaw clenches and he scoffs. You simply blink back innocently. Then, he notices it. The way it reflects against the yellow ray of the now setting sun. He knows what it is, so he doesn’t ask. Too busy staring off into the distance, you place your plate down. “Let me show you a few other things I’ve been working on.”
There’s row and row, further into the open area; every twist and turn makes his brows raise up higher, impressed by the noticeable updates. Coming to a halt, he spins his head around, brown locks hitting his temples. “Since when do we have a cherry tree?”
You beam, orbs shining with excitement. “Since last summer!” you repeat, cheerfully. You pick one, handing it for him to try. An embarrassing moan erupts once the sweet nectar slides down his throat. “Good?”
“Bloody amazing.” Every compliment makes you squeal with delight. “My mum is actually allergic to cherries, so how…”
“She was actually the one who brought it up. Said she knew how much I loved them, and that I deserved a little something for flourishing her garden. I couldn’t deny the chance to do so.” You bite down on your lip, sheepishly. “They are my favorite.”
Reaching for one makes him look away as soon as your dress rises up, soft legs poking through. Bare feet press against the wet grass as you tippy toe. He mustered a fake cough, but as soon as you bite down onto the bloody fruit, he clicks into a trance.
Plump lips; thick and juicy. Long lashes fluttering shut against your glossy cheeks. That could have been because of the summer heat, but it affected him just the same. The familiar sensation of attraction rushes to his cock as he stands stiffly—but also loosely. He was loose. So fucking loose.
Something hits his cheekbones and it rips him away from his drooling. A singular seed now lays by his feet; indicating what you had done. A crinkled, wobbly smile shines back at him, hands nervously flattening your dress back down. The Australian jokingly lunges towards you as you squeal, backing away.
“You were disintegrating! I had to get your attention one way or another!”
Oh, she definitely got his attention. Giving you one final scowl, he stops his steps. “Everything—all of it—it’s great. Thank you.” The wind picks up and you shiver. “...for doing this for my parents.”
Neat hair flies against the breeze, covering your eyes for a minute. Pushing it aside, you scrunch your nose faintly. “Anytime.”
-
Technically, what you’re getting paid for was to watch over the beloved yard; that’s all. But you offer to do more. Mow the lawn? Paint the chipped wall? Wash the windows?
“God no, darling,” Oscar’s mum laughs through the end of the line. “You are doing enough already. Please. Relax.”
But you can’t. Nibbling on your thumb, you brush the counter, strolling past countless family portraits. A smile slips when you spot a toothless Oscar. “I insist.”
So, here you are; decluttering the attic. After a bit of bickering with Nicole, she eventually gives in and asks for a favor. Clean and tidy the small room. Easy peasy.
“Ouch,” you hiss when a nail digs through your skin, gore immediately pouring out of you like a waterfall; you squeak. Just then, a certain brunette peeks their head through the entrance. “Oh good, it’s you. I thought we had an intruder.”
Raising a skeptical brow at him and the thin duvet, you quickly take it from him, pressing it down to ease the bleeding. “Holy crap, are you okay?” In one motion, he steps closer to you, analyzing the injury with worried eyes. You groan.
“It’s only a little cut. No biggie.” But the way your face is slowly losing color lets him know that your words aren't true. Brown eyes flicker, searching for a spot to sit, but everything about this is crowded. You were just about to start tidying; the mess was still there. Crouching onto a tiny stool, he takes a seat, somehow still towering over you. Or at least that's what it felt like, because suddenly, you felt suffocated.
His long legs are spread as you stand between them, hand out towards him as he winces at the brutal cut. “Ah—that’s pretty deep.” He gags when he notices the underneath flesh. You suppress a giggle. “We should go to the ER.”
You scoff, ripping away from his grip, tripping over a box. Regaining your balance, you drape the cloth over your hand once again. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll be right back.”
After rinsing your hand with alcohol, covering the wound with the largest bandaid to ever exist, and balling your eyes out, you make your way back up. The Australian is drenched in sweat, huffing and puffing. “Got it,” he pants. Confused, you tilt your head to the side, but that’s when you pick out the nail in the palm of his hand. You blink, too bewildered to make sense of how he retrieved it without the help of a hammer. “I also found lots of old trophies. Extremely bittersweet.”
“Why’s that?” you hum, kneeling down next to him, reading through the labels. Each makes you more and more dazzled.
A minute passes by. “Because I grew up.”
“That’s…sad.” Shrugging, he digs for more. He laughs loudly, throwing his head back. “Dear G—I forgot this even existed!”
Oscar’s 81 Things To-Do During the Summer [List]
Learn how to bike.
Learn the Australian National Anthem (Sophie will be beautifully impressed)
Get better at being more outgoing (Mum is worried)
So on and so forth. “You were an extremely creative lad. Eighty-one things to do…eh.” A tongue click. “Possibly buy a pet dragon?”
He cringes. “Not all were realistic. I actually never really got around to it. Mainly added, if anything.”
Crimson red flashes. “I, um, I could tell.”
69. Oscar Piastri, you know what I mean.
The brunette chokes on his saliva, yanking it away as fast as he can. Standing up to his full height, he rolls up the piece of paper and points towards the exit. “I think I should, um…yeah. See ya.”
“Yeah.” He dashes off. “See you…”
-
Eighteen-year old Oscar was a horny bastard. But every guy that age is, so it’s not really fair to feel bad about his list. The writing is obviously his, but the things jotted down made him almost feel like it wasn’t. Blowjobs? Hand jobs? What was he thinking?
And then, there was you—a curious cat. He had to be a virgin; he just had to. Why else would he be embarrassed? You weren’t one to judge, though. You knew nothing about the sexual world, having never partaken. The thin band wrapped around your ring finger is enough proof.
And no—you weren’t married.
It would have been absolutely diabolical to mention sex in your household growing up. Being Roman Catholics is no joke, believing religiously to wait until marriage. You never had a problem with that; you would wait. Doesn’t mean you didn’t know what any of the common terms meant. Sort of.
Only now—for the first time in your life—there it was.
Temptation.
The McLaren driver was no newbie. He has had his fair share of experiences; before Lily, with Lily. He knew just about anything and everything. His good-boy act was no facade. At times he didn’t like that about himself, but it’s who he was. Obeyed the rules. Never crossed the line with anyone he wasn’t romantically linked to. And yet…
There you were.
The flowers were perfect; only needing to be watered. The cherry tree was much more…complicated. The chances of animals recklessly hunting for the sweet fruit was high, the chances of the red drupes rotting also was. Therefore, you spent most of your time there.
Maybe you were avoiding him; you told yourself you were already horrified at the dirty thoughts taking over like the plague. And perhaps he was doing the same; he had only been locked in his room for the past three hours.
Golden hour. With your hands on your hips, you squint, admire the polished drupes, tickling with water. Walking back to the bench, you lay down, picking up on your reading, occasionally taking sips from your Cherry Cola.
Pacing the small bedroom, Oscar mutters to himself. Maybe she didn’t read all of it. Maybe she doesn't know what it means. Yeah—he was exaggerating. Clicking his window open, he gasped for needed air. As soon as he spots you reading, he grunts.
White skirt brushes down your smooth legs, challenging the sun to see who shines the brightest. Lips wrap around the glass bottle, puckering in the slightest. And he wonders; would you taste as sweet as the cool beverage?
He’s a grown man; an adult. There’s no need to be uncomfortable. Sex was a part of everyone's day to day life. He was the one making it a bigger deal than it actually was. Still, he slips on a pair of sunglasses, perched perfectly onto the bridge of his nose.
“Is it any good?”
His voice makes you flinch, dropping the book flat on your face. A tiny groan rings through the air. Flashing him a weak smile, you sit up straight, fixing your clothes. “Want one? There’s plenty in the fridge.”
He had noticed, of course he had. Never in a million years did he think he'd see his refrigerator stocked up with the sweet drink. He never cared enough to ask who they belonged to; figured they would just expire.
Wavy hair swings back and forth when he shakes his head. “Gotta keep in shape.” I see, you murmur, loopy eyes peeking over at him, taking another gulp. The sizzling feeling is utterly childish compared to what he’s making you feel. The burning sensation between your legs is annoying and painful, you almost want to plead for help. “I meant the book, by the way.”
“No!” You laugh, nervously. “I mean…it’s alright?”
After he stormed off and left you a breathless puddle, you biked and biked—until you hit the local bookstore. You weren’t looking for anything in particular, simply browsing, but as soon as you reached the section of Erotic Literature, you stopped.
So many—many—wrong choices. Still, humiliated, you paid and fiercely ran out. Maybe this was some sort of punishment for reading what you’re reading; had to be. And Oscar asking questions wasn’t helping. Licking your berry lips, you swallow a thick layer. “What have you been up to?”
Fuck, he moans, large hand sliding up and down his cock; more and more pleasure intensifying. Your tiny dresses. Your short skirts. Your angelic face. The way your lips would separate before every sentence. Your sweet scent that would have normally given him a headache, but instead made him chase after you like a dog.
Finishing all over his thighs, he shudders. White liquid never looked more sinister than at this very moment. After changing, he paces the room with regret.
Pushing the frames further into his face, he hums. “Oh, you know. Just… cleaning up my room.”
-
It’s been a week in a half now and you’re happy to announce that you have fallen into a routine. While Oscar did his daily workout, you would make breakfast. While you worked on the garden, he cooked dinner. Though, he was unbeknownst over the way you would drool over him when he would walk out the door; a compressed shirt hugging his built body tightly, arms begging to be kissed. You were unaware of the way he would rub his face in desperation when you walked out, banging his head purposefully against the cabinet; the way you would skip out with your book and infamous drink, or how you would prettily tie up your hair before you even got started.
It was a mess.
A mocking mess.
This afternoon though, you aren’t flying out the door to the yard, but rather frolicking over to Ms. Alleck, ready to assist. I try my best, but they always wilt! Could it be the humidity? Laughing, you toss your hair up into a bun, messy strands poking out as you cock your head to the side. “Could be, but don’t you worry. We’ll find a way to make it work. Promise.”
He had always known you were kind, gentle, soft spoken…pure. And you doing this only added to his attraction. It’s salad, spaghetti, and salmon that afternoon. Sweaty, you pant. I’m going to squeeze in a shower real quick. But you weren’t sweaty, like you believe; you were glistening.
“This is so cute,” you chirp, sitting cross cross in the old treehouse. A few spider webs make your blood run cold, but he quickly took care of it, apologizing. The brunette blushes.
“I wanted to use it one last time. Before we get rid of it.” Neat brows furrow. “It’s just that it’s old—only a matter of time before it plunges down.”
“What?”
“O-obviously not now!”
After a bit more convincing, you finally relax and enjoy the way the crickets sing against the night. Small feet press against the wall, white tube socks turning slightly brown from the lack of sweeping. For a moment, he shuts his lids, breaths shallow, body loose. The high temperature almost made him feel as if he was cuddling into the warmest blanket; it felt nice.
Whoops, you mumble when hollow glass pounds against the wooden floor. He perks up at the sound, brown eyes burning with high alert. “You do shit on purpose?” he screeches when he detects scarlet blood. Wincing in pain, you curl your hand towards the hem of your dress.
“Help me,” you plead, slight annoyance written all over your face. He must’ve broken the world record of running into the house to retreat the first aid kit, and running right back to you. The way he sanitizes the skin, to the way he wraps your hand with a gauze pad, is honestly hilarious.
“What so funny?” he murmurs, attention never leaving the wound.
“Mmm. Nothing.” He snickers and you giggle harder. “It just seems as if I’m making you a professional. You ought to be ready if anyone else needs your help to treat injuries.”
“Oh, of course. I’ll tell them a certain klutz made me learn from day to night with all her clumsiness.” His voice drops, laced with concern. “Seriously though—you were just healing. You have to be careful.”
Plump lips part with the sound of his delicate voice, accent almost disappearing. Wandering eyes admire the way his brows are knitted together and orbs soften. Swallowing, you nod. “I will.”
“Good.”
The once vibrant room is now hazy and suffocating. Does he not know what kind of effect he has on you? The type of power he holds? Oscar doesn’t seem to, though, with the way he chugs down his entire glass of water. Stuck in a trance, your hand briskly reaches out for your own drink. He roars with laughter, clutching his stomach. “You just broke your bottle, you don’t have a drink anymore.” He picked up the Cherry Cola you had offered, but he had declined. “Take mine.”
You don’t put up a fight, simply allow him to open and give it to you. The sweet drink doesn’t do a great job at hydrating your foaming mouth, but it helps as a distraction. On the other hand, the brunette can’t seem to not watch the ways your lips suck in and out, eagerly. As if this were the only source of air. He shudders.
“We should probably head down…”
Wiping your lips with the back of your hand, you comply, already standing up. From the floor, he has a good view of your legs; long, soft, sweetly scented. He wonders if you use honey as lotion because that would explain his urge to nuzzle his face against them. Picking up the broken glass and plates, you turn back. “Coming?”
A sigh rings through the air once, and suddenly—he’s cradling your face with high intensity and lust, molding his lips against yours. Tomato sauce stains his shirt and your dress from the plates that still remain between you two. One second, you're wide eyed, and then the next, you're allowing yourself to kiss him back.
You want to cry with how pleasant the feeling feels and he wants to scream with how much he wants to fuck you. But alas, one of you pulls away first—you can’t really tell who— and you’re both left gasping for air. Completely winded and fucked.
You both are fucked.
-
The treehouse comes crashing down the day after your first kiss. Yes, first kiss. You would like to blame him and say that he stole it from you, but the arousal that was dripping between your thighs last night was a clear indication that you could never actually say so because you liked it so much.
The wooden house tearing down is something you take as a sign; you’ve sinned. Okay, maybe that was a bit too dramatic, but you were honestly thinking about it. That night you dreamt of the wildest things imaginable; his pretty face in between your legs, large hands squeezing your perky breasts, fingers swirling inside your velvety walls, cock tearing you in half.
It was unacceptable.
So, while Oscar worked on picking up the tiles with a hometown buddy, you marched right over to beg for forgiveness. Kneeling down against the cushion, you say a silent prayer.
I don’t want to think like this—not when I know I can help it, but God this is getting way too out of hand. And you know I’m not like this, you know that! But he just—AGH. Maybe it’s his personality that makes him so attractive, or maybe it’s his sudden growth spurt, but please let me get a hold of myself. He’s just a friend, he’s just a friend—HE’S JUST A FRIEND.
“Would you mind keeping your words to yourself, sweetheart?” an older lady whispers, two rows ahead of you.
Pink feathers onto your cheeks. “Oh, yes, of course! I’m so sorry…”
I don’t ever ask for much, no, that’s never been necessary, but I am now. So please. Hear me when I say: Push this desire I have, far, far, far away.
-
If you were to say, there was a ninety percent chance that you would walk away. Not even spare him a passing glance. He would call you out on it later, but whatever—too late. Ignored you, you say? No, really I did? I had no idea, I’ll make sure to not let it happen again!
If Oscar were to say, there was a ninety-nine percent chance that he would let you walk away. He didn’t need your company; he was doing just fine. But then again, that one percent tugs at him like the devil on his shoulder.
“Hey. You’re back.” Cool. Calm. Collected.
“Oh! I suppose I am.” Cool. Utter. Mess.
He grins, eyes crinkling like the leaves that hang upon the crimson tree. Signaling up, he cocks his head in deep thought. “Just finished. Cole said his uncle could shred…” A pause. “He owns a massive wood chipper.”
Blinking like a deer in headlights, you chew on your bottom lip, simply nodding along. “Sounds good? I think. No. Yes. Very good.” You wince at all the uncontrolled mumbo-jumbo. “I’m sorry I was no help, too. I had to…talk to the man up above.”
“Eh, don’t worry about it. That must be why your pretty little knees are bruised.”
Your breath comes to a harsh halt, ears burning like a wildfire. The Australian just keeps his brown eyes set on the tree for a second longer before turning to face you. Quickly, you relax your muscles. “You could make up for it by helping me with something else.”
You gulp. Suddenly, your mouth is overflowing with hot saliva. “With what?”
Dark orbs glue onto your delicate figure, a slight smirk playing out. And it looks so unfamiliar, not his own, that you create a distance. And just like that, it’s gone. Vanished just as fast as it slipped onto his pink lips. “Get on.” He crouches down and your jaw drops.
“Wha—like onto your shoulders?” Rolling his eyes in a goofy manner, he nods, picks you up safely, and places you on top. You screech, dizzy by the sudden altitude. “Put me down!”
“You’re fine. Just help me reach those. Been craving them all day,” he murmurs, voice raspy. The twenty-three year old is still slightly sweaty from his hard labor, and that’s clear when you cling onto his brown locks. Other than that, you’re as high as a kite; both figuratively and literally.
You’ve known—seen—how tall and broad the Australian was, but being perched onto his wide shoulders was a sweet confirmation you couldn’t help but enjoy. “Move a bit forward.” He follows instructions, wide hands gripping onto your thighs to keep you steady. You giggle when a few fruits hit your face. “Watch it—and don’t you dare drop me.”
“Get,” he commands.
About three minutes pass by. You rip the cherries carefully, candy aroma filling the air, and plop them onto the basket. By all accounts, you’re well aware of your actions. The basket was full, now overflowing, really, and you could plant your ballet flats back onto the tall grass—but you don’t.
There’s something about feeling his touch; high electricity, shock waves nipping at your skin, soft pants. It’s pathetic how much you crave any ounce of physical touch he’s willing to give you, unknowingly.
“That should be good,” you whisper, meekly. He doesn’t respond, just swings you down as you let out a yelp. All of a sudden, you’re magically magnetic. And he wonders; if only. You hand the basket over, waiting nervously for him to thank you, at least.
“Thank you,” he feels himself saying. “What do you say we play a little game? No prize. Only bragging rights.”
“O-okay.”
A singular cherry is handed over. He grins. Can you tie a knot using your tongue? “Wait—are you being serious?”
The red fruit dissolves inside his mouth, spitting the seed somewhere far enough away. Then, the stem flips into his mouth. “Come on. I’ll give you a head start.”
With wary hands, you rip the stem away from your own drupe, fitting the thin stick into your suddenly dry mouth. He stares intently, clenching his jaw, “Go on. Ten seconds.” Quickly, your lips start to move, twisting and turning. Pouting, then sucking back in. Your low breaths become heavy after a few tries. You think you’re getting it done right, the sudden ball forming is enough for you to guess that you must be doing something correct.
The sound of his low mewls is what ends you. Doe eyes flicker up to face him, paying close attention to how his brown eyes wander up at the sky in concentration, occasionally squinting due to the bright sun. You can feel a thin layer of sweat hug you like a blanket as your movements slow down; a snail's pace compared to before.
For good measure, you fake your twists as you continue to simply admire. Too far gone, you blink hastily when he sticks his pink tongue out towards you, a stinking knot sitting nicely atop.
“I won.”
Gulp. “You sure did. Good job, Oscar.”
Long lashes flutter shut momentarily, head tossed back, sighing. “It wasn’t a fair fight. You weren’t doing anything. Other than staring at my lips.”
Flustered, you dig your hand into the bucket. “That’s not true! At all. At all, at all.” You munch harder, splitting a seed in half. You spit it out sourly. “You're just better at using your mouth than I am.”
It goes straight to his cock, your words. Opening his eyes, the brunette scrunches his nose. You’re avoiding his gaze. You’re good at doing that. A pro. But it leaves him to wonder some more. And that itself was dangerous when it dawned on him.
He doesn’t like daydreaming anymore.
“Fuck it,” he grunts, kissing you harshly, like the night before. And you thought that blew your mind, but this? This left you gasping and reaching out for him even though he was pressed right against you. You could feel him buzzing, pinching your hips against his large hands. It’s perfect.
You don’t really understand how you end up straddling him on the grass, green straining your knees as you grind harder onto him, forcing your skin to burn with each stroke. This—this—must be as good as it gets. There can’t be more, but you weren’t complaining. It was enough.
When his fingers dance underneath your dress, you halt, and everything comes crashing down. “No,” you pant. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I really am.”
“Why is that, baby?” he mumbles, lost on sucking the side of your neck. Looking up, his straight brows drew in together with concern. “What is it?”
“It’s just that…I’m—” Why is it so hard to admit? Brushing a strand of hair away, you purse your lips. “I’m a virgin, Oscar. It’s odd, I know, but I can’t sleep with you.”
“You think I didn’t know that?’
You freeze. “What?”
His thumbs circle your thighs, gently, swooning with how soft you feel. “I figured you were. Your purity ring sort of gave it away.” You blush hard, rolling off of him, playing with the thin band.
“I wish I could do this—God, I really want to—but I can’t.”
Respecting your decision, he pats your hand with reassurance. The hot feeling remained between your legs and the pain between his. This was torture, you both know that, but what was there to do? It’s awkward for a while, that is, until he starts asking you about things that shouldn’t make you glow with happiness.
How was your day? I want to hear all about it. Do you think it’s bad to eat an entire bucket of drupes? Must be, right? In the long run? Hey, would you mind teaching me how to garden? You make it look intriguing.
That seems to do it for you. Everything you ever promised flies out the window as you climb back onto his thick lap, and this time, he’s surprised by your actions. Clumsy fingers try their best to unzip his pants, but he only stutters against your kisses. N-no, we don’t have to rush anything. I, you, we—
“Shit, o-okay,” he sighs when you finally touch him, even in the slightest. He may be touch deprived, but so were you, so how far would any of this go? Flipping you over to lay against the tall grass, he winks teasingly and that effectively makes your heartbeat quicken. “Relax, sweetheart. Do that for me, yeah? Can you?”
“Yes. Yes. Yes.”
The McLaren drivers press a kiss on the inside of your thighs before licking them. You shiver, though try your best to even your breaths. You shut your eyes, maybe if you act hard enough, you could somehow convince yourself that this wasn’t a war itself. To see how long you’d last. No—you would last. You had to.
“I’ve thought about it.” He slips your panties down, inch by inch. “A lot, as of lately. If you would taste just as sweet as I imagined. As sweet as those Cherry Cola’s you're overly obsessed with.” And he dives in, licking your arousal clean as you pant, chest heaving up and down like an erupting volcano.
What were you supposed to feel—relaxed? In a frenzy? Most likely the latter because considering the way he was making your head spin said it all. The sounds he’s making forces you to involuntarily shut your legs around his face and his hand that now lies between you two. The stretch is a burning sensation that leaves you both gasping and moaning; it’s too much, but not enough.
More. Grinning up from in between your legs, he shakes his head full of curls, all thanks to the Aussie weather, and your dirty foreplay. “Does it feel good?” You whimper. “Good—good, baby. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” Velvet walls clench around his long digits. “Hey, hey, look at me.”
Once your soft orbs connect to his intoxicating ones, his cock grows harder. “Okay, listen, it’s going to hurt a little bit, okay? But that’s completely normal; it’s like a…a stingy feeling. Do you understand?” I do, you pant. He grits his teeth when his calloused fingers brush against your g-spot and your head lolls back, exposing your sharp clavicle. He itches to mark you all over. “Do you want it, then?”
A zing. “Fuck, Oscar. I fucking want you.”
The brown eyed boy is all over you, kissing you up and down, gripping you tighter. It was an addiction in its truest form. For a split second, you frown when he slips out of you, but as soon as he starts unzipping his pants, you feverishly lick your lips.
It dawns on you that you aren’t scared, nervous, or anything; you’re bubbling with excitement. You watch carefully as he jerks himself off a bit, his already large girth growing bigger. How is that possible? “I’ll start with the tip.” Leaning down, he pecks your pouty lips and you smile. “Let me know if it’s too much, we’ll stop and take a break. Or do anything, really,” he adds, cheekbones flushing red.
“I’ll be okay,” you whisper. “I swear.”
You were being skinned alive, it was excruciating pain. You know he notices it when he starts brushing your hips, hoping to comfort you in some sort of way. Heavy breaths, numb lips from biting too hard, exposed breasts arching straight for him. He didn’t know whether to enjoy this or worry.
“Breath, darling, breath. In through your nose, out through your mouth. There you go,” he congratulates, admiring your shaky breath. “You’re doing so good.”
“Osc, move…please.”
There was no more confirmation necessary that you were ready to go. His hips find motion, thrusting into you slowly. Nails scratch down his back as you moan loudly, almost yelping. “Y-you’re so big.” So, so, so, so big. “So good.”
Nearly animalistic, he releases a grunt, pounding deeper into you, getting lost with the way you hug him tightly. You mewl, pressing your naked chest against his, and he nearly slips from his hands being set on top of the cold grass, but it was beautiful torture, all at once.
From the way you tremble, to the way you look up at him, he loves it all. He realized it been too long, he’s missed this, he’s missed having a body undeaneath his, as fucked up as that sounds.
And he—he must be a saint, himself. There’s a sort of invisible halo that lightens up around him, nearly blinding you. There’s a gut-wrenching stare he’s gifting you, making your stomach churn with pleasure.
Wrapping his mouth around your sore buds, you let out a shaky sigh. Skillful tongue swirls the way one would suck on a lollipop; the heat intensifies. “Close?” But you’re not sure, you just know it feels good—ridiculously good. He must have known so, and must want to make your first experience the best you’ll ever have, because suddenly, you’re on all fours.
As he slips in and out with such ease, you grip harshly at the tall grass. You can hear the sad rips with every thrust and every tug, but how can you feel bad when he feels so good? His cock rapidly brushes the magic spot, and you’re left seeing stars. “Oh God. I feel it, Oscar, fuck, fuck, fuck—”
“Tell me. Describe it.”
Your jaw locks, and your arms give up, flying down towards the grass, round ass high up in the air as he continues his movements. He groans at the sight, slapping your sweaty skin. Whining, you look back at him, grinning from ear to ear. The Australian looks up at the open sky, trying his best to push back the feeling of his upcoming orgasm, but it's hard to ignore the fact that an absolute angel takes him like no other.
And an Angel you were.
“Can feel your cock, Oscar. The way it pulses—so thick, so veiny, so sweet.”
An Angel with a vocabulary of Heathen.
“God, fuck me harder, please, Oscar, please.” He’s pretty sure you’re half-gone, half-present, but it only adds to the lust he carries for you. Just then, you feel the fresh cherry pressed up against your lips. Open, he demands and you follow straight away, ripping it from its stem. You nearly choke on the seed when he suddenly speeds up, limbs and arms burning from holding upright. For a moment, you stare back with an open mouth, admiring over the way his abs contract with every brutal push.
“Now spit.” Two seeds fly out towards the grass, laying there to taunt you as you pick up on your moans, ringing through the air. If you squint hard enough, you can spot the stars that mock the daylight sky. It doesn’t make sense, but then again, none of this does. “So pretty, sweetheart.” You swoon, feeling his arms hold you down. “Again—open.”
You’re expecting another set of cherries, thinking this might be some sort of prize, but as soon as you feel the familiar stick, you pout. No, you cry out. He chuckles. “Yes.” A pause. “You only get to come until you tie a knot.”
“You’re not being f-fair, holy shit.” Long fingers rub slowly against your puffy clit, throbbing with pain, begging to come all of his numbing girth. You clench your jaw, eyes screwed shut.
“We don’t have all night, go on. Move that pretty little mouth of yours.”
It’s a mission, it’s a task, it’s a fucking wreck. It’s impossible. You’re not that surprised, though, not when he thrusts into with twice as much force, triple speed; what a man. Loose tongue swirls at a weak attempt, but then he pinches your swollen bud, and you’re back to square one. You’re nearly there, excited to prove to him how much you wanted this and how you were able to multitask, but then he’s pulling all the way back, only his rosy tip awaiting by your entrance, and he’s coming back down, full-throttle.
It was cruel.
But two can play that game, you suppose.
You pull away quickly, he blinks, and then you’re pushing him back, sprawled on the grass. He nearly whines from missing your warm cunt, but as soon as you climb to sit on his face, he grows more and more turned on. “Go on,” you push. “Use that pretty little tongue of yours.”
Dark eyes stare up at you, enjoying the way your body moves, hips rolling, riding his face at an impressive rate. The white nectar you're willing to spill out makes him lap at an embarrassing speed, desperate to taste the sweetness.
Meanwhile, you’re gripping his hair, trying to feign indifference with the way his nose rubs against your lips, the way he keeps you in place with his watch covered hand, the other playing with your clit. It’s even, this is fair, but you still needed to reach your end.
“I’m close,” you moan, head rolling back, but jaw continuing to tick. He hums and the vibrations cause you to squeeze your legs around his face. That seems to make him enjoy this far more. Unless you show me you’ve done it, then no, you’re not coming anytime soon. Your molars grind harder, white spots forming throughout your vision. “Shut up, just—fucking stop talking.”
“What do y’know? Miss Perfection has a potty mouth.” He pokes his tongue against your hole. “Dirty girl, eh?”
With one final suck, and one soft moan, you cum all over him. The Australian is quick to lick you clean, groaning pathetically deep. Gasping, you fall from your climax, slightly twitching with sensibility as he hauls you onto his lap. You giggle when he raises a teasing brow.
“You got away with it—this time.”
“There’s going to be a second time?”
He stiffens, trying to play it cool. “Well, not anymore, you didn’t do what I asked for you to do—”
Opening your mouth, you stick your red tongue out, displaying the most perfect knot. He gapes, sticking his fingers in to retrieve it. “H-how?” A beat, sharp and accusing eyes. “Seriously, how?”
“Does it matter?” you ask, wide eyes back on for show. “I did it.”
“I…yeah, yeah you did,” he repeats in disbelief. He laughs. “You’re wickedly talented. That's an art.”
“Thanks,” you mumble, slowly, mixed with a giggle. “I tried my best for you.”
“I see that.” The brown eyed boy pinches your hip. “How was it?”
Sighing dreamily, as if napping on a cloud, your eyes twinkle. “I get it now. Why people have casual sex, I mean. It was amazing. Thank you.”
Casual, casual, casual, yes. Of course this was casual, why wouldn’t it be casual? He’s not looking to have anyone new in his life, and you’re barely understanding what any of this is, so yeah. Casual.
“Was I bad?” you ponder, chewing on your bottom lip. “I know I’m no professional, but I—”
“You were perfect,” he reassures with a soft smile. “Best thing to come around, solemnly swear.” Swatting his arm, he snickers, catching your hand. You purse your lips. “I was right,” he murmurs when his lips graze over your own. You open your mouth, waiting for more.
“About?”
“You tasting as sweet as a Cherry Cola.” Then he connects your lips, and you’re left utterly smitten. You can hardly feel him slip your ring off, but you know so when your finger feels empty since the moment you first put it on. “Guess you won’t be needing this anymore?”
“Guess not, no. Keep it.”
“Could take it to a Pawn Shop, sell it for a couple dollars…”
“Hey! Be nice, you dimwit,” you warn. “You should feel special. Stupidly special.”
“I’m kidding. I’ll cherish it.”
“Creep.”
He groans, slapping your ass as you squeal. “There’s no right or wrong answer, it seems like. Very well, let's just leave it at thanks. So…thank you for trusting me.” You blush, looking away. Awkwardly, you reach for your dress, slipping it over your head. He coughs, dressing himself before choking back a much needed chuckle. “Looks like we got dragged through the mud.”
“Ah, ew, I can’t. I need to shower.”
Reaching your end of the hallway, you press your back up against the wooden door as you sheepishly giggle when Oscar does the same. “Okay then…see you around?”
“Around town?”
“Around the house.”
“In the garden?”
“In the attic, too, maybe. It still needs a good sweep.”
He rolls his eyes. “Do we still have time?”
“Before your parents get back from Costa Rica?”
“Yes.”
“Which is in—”
“A week.”
“Which is—”
“Seven days.”
“And roughly…”
“Enough time.”
“Enough time to do what?”
He laughs, eyes crinkling suggestively, and your heart pounds hard against your ribcage. “Come here and I’ll show you.”
“Yeah,” you ponder in deep thought before your lips stretch out into a bright smile of your own. He raises dark brows as you scurry over with bruised knees, a muddy dress, and an exploding heart. “Yeah, okay. Just until they get back.”
↳ A/N Still waiting for Apple to invent the iTimeMachine so I can go back to the 80s when Andrew Ridgeley was in his prime. Anyway, please enjoy house husband George slaying the 1980s suburbia. Comments, reblogs, and predictions are always welcome!!
↳ Inspired By: 'Everything She Wants' by Wham! and 'Heartbeat' by Wham!
↳ Summary: It’s the end of summer 1984 and you and your perfect little family moves into a quaint suburban neighbourhood to escape the hustle and bustle of the Manhattan lifestyle. Your next door neighbours are a picture-perfect family of their own - or so it seems from the outside. But, as you spend more time with the handsome husband, the cracks in your own 'perfect' marriage start to come to light.
↳ Pairings: George Russell x Neighbour!Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n)
↳ Word Count: 22.6k
↳ Warnings: 18+, smut, slow burn, cheating/adultery (i don't condone this but, boy, does it make for a juicy plot), use of explicit language, female masturbation, non-consenting voyeurism, oral (f receiving), fingering, dirty talk, choking, unprotected sex (and extramarital creampie)
September 1984
The house was straight out of the recent issue of Better Home magazine and even as you stepped out of the passenger seat of the station wagon, you were in awe of the New England architecture. Crisp white siding and red painted shutters over spotless picture windows; it was hard to believe it was all yours. It was nowhere near the small ancient apartment that you were used to in the city - although you certainly wore that place thin until the seams were bursting. It was about time you made the move out of Manhattan and into the nearby suburbs. The American Dream was in the palm of your hand.
Your husband, Andrew, set his hand on the small of your back and dangled the set of shiny keys over your shoulder with his other, “Want to test the locks?”
You smiled back at him and grabbed them out of his hand before hurrying along the front path to the modest porch and welcoming front door. He followed behind you closely, glancing over his shoulder on the way in expectation of a follower of his own, but the young boy was already busy rushing across the freshly mowed lawn.
“Richard,” your husband called for him as you turned the key in the lock, the faint remnants of his English accent ghosting through his words, “Come see inside!”
Unbothered, your five-year-old son didn’t even look up as he dropped to his knees beside the garden bed, “No thanks!”
You glanced across the sprawling green grass yourself, “Don’t you want to see your room?”
The little boy’s head perked up in your direction at your very convincing offer and his big brown eyes shone in the sunlight. He shot up from the ground, “Okay!”
He took the four front stone steps with ease and rushed right past you into the house, making a beeline right for the straight run staircase just inside. You called a reminder after him to hold the handrail but he was already at the top by the time the final word left your mouth.
Still on the front porch, you and your husband shared calm little smiles over your shared adoration for your little boy, and then he was gesturing you inside first. You stepped over the threshold onto the hardwood floors and you took your time soaking in the modern floral wallpaper that trimmed the foyer and led into the formal living room through the archway to the right. It looked so empty without furniture but it also held so much promise and possibility within the brand new walls.
Through the living room you could loop into the dining room that overlooked the spacious backyard framed in lush trees and a wooden fence separating the property from the neighbours on either side. The backyard view was perfect from the kitchen sink, giving you a perfect spot to keep an eye on your son playing while you could do the dishes or prep dinner. You had fallen in love with this house the moment you saw it in the real estate section of the newspaper - a new build in a quaint suburb of Connecticut - but at first glance you had figured it would only be a dream. It was hard to believe that your husband and your finances were on board. With a growing little boy, it was time to move out of that tiny one-and-a-half bedroom apartment in Manhattan. Now, with three full bedrooms upstairs, the future was far more open.
You hadn’t realized you were daydreaming at the empty kitchen sink before your husband gave your shoulders a squeeze, bringing you back to your content reality, “The moving truck should be here soon. Should we start unpacking the car?”
Leaning back into him, you agreed with a smile, “Alright.”
He wrapped his arms around your middle and pressed a kiss to your cheek before he was pulling away just as quickly and disappearing into the foyer and towards the front door.
Andrew always lived a lively life and somehow you managed to keep up. He always wanted to be out doing things such as date nights on the town rather than picking up after-hour client dinners just to socialize and bring in more money for his company - and, ultimately, himself and your family. It was so nice when you were younger and you were in love and willing to follow him to the ends of the earth but the reality of parenthood made you more tired than you used to be. Suddenly, nights out felt tedious and the airtime was always filled with business talk or discussions of Richard’s school. It all felt a bit like a chore. But maybe that just came with growing up. You were loved, you were secure, and you had a beautiful roof over your head. You swore you had nothing to complain about.
The moving truck pulled into your driveway not long after your trusty station wagon had only been unpacked about halfway. It was going to be a long day but you tied your hair back and made sure your son was kept busy when you could and Andrew and the movers took over most of the heavy lifting, leaving you to rearrange boxes and direct them inside the house. It was always your responsibility to take care of your son so it wasn’t unusual for you to keep busy with finding him a snack from your cooler once that was brought in from the car. The kitchen table followed not long after from the moving truck and the two of you sat at the table together with Jell-O cups.
Richard would be starting kindergarten in only a week and part of you was worried about what on earth you were going to busy yourself with once he was gone. Being a stay at home mom, your sole job was caring for him and since there were no other kids on your agenda as of yet, you were painfully preparing to be completely alone from 9-3 every week day. You tried not to worry about it as you watched your five-year-old eat his cherry Jell-O and you reached out a hand to brush through his frazzled dark brown hair, trying to pet it down into some sort of order. Even the gel that you had slicked through it that morning seemed to not be doing its job anymore but that seemed to be common with a lively little boy. You truly loved him with everything in you and those big brown eyes could just melt your heart with one look. He was his father’s son through and through.
Being an only child, Richard got bored pretty easily on moving day so it wasn’t long before you sent him outside to the front yard to play while the truck was finished unloading and you and Andrew tended to the organization inside. With the windows open, the late summer air breezed through the freshly painted house and one of the first things you set up was your record player in the living room so you could have some music while you worked.
Soon, Richard came rushing back inside and across the carpeted living room floor in his outdoor running shoes, earning a lightly scolding “Ritchie” out of you.
“Mommy, there’s kids next door. Can I play with them?” he asked, ignoring your quiet scold of his name as he clutched onto the hem of your sky blue shorts pleadingly, batting those sweet long lashes up at you.
You pet your hand over his soft hair, “Sure, baby. Stay close though, okay?”
“Okay!”
He was already halfway out the front door again before the single word reply was even completely out of his mouth. With a few trinkets in your hand that you had been taking out a box of arrange in the curio cabinet, you drifted over to the large picture window overlooking the front lawn. Two kids around Richard’s age were playing on the quiet tree-lined street on big wheel tricycles and your son ran over to them to introduce himself. You smiled fondly at the sociable nature of your son that was quite unlike your own traits, watching the children play for a few more moments as Richard was given a turn on the bike, before you were moving back to your boxes.
As the afternoon wore on and you grew tired, you had just enough energy to make dinner - something simple and quick - and soon you were stepping out onto the front porch to call your son back in to eat. He said goodbye to his two new friends and then hurried over to you just as you noticed two people crossing over your lawn towards you.
“Hey there!” the woman called politely.
Richard stood in front of you nosily, watching them, and he wrapped an arm around your leg. Your next door neighbours approached you across your lawn, a man and woman maybe only a few years your senior, and the man held a white bakeware dish covered in tinfoil in his hands.
“Hi.” you greeted them with a smile.
They were clearly a well kept pair as if they had been cut from a magazine themselves with the husband in tidy blue jeans and a tucked in button up and the wife with her blonde hair tied back in an impressive updo. She had on dress slacks and a blazer with posh shoulder pads, earning a lighthearted envious glance out of you at her style as you accepted her handshake and she spoke again, “I’m Jennifer and this is my husband, George. We just live next door and saw you moving in so we wanted to introduce ourselves.”
“How lovely.” you smiled, moving on to shake her husband’s hand, trying not to be intimidated by the electric blue eyes staring back at you as you introduced yourself and your son.
Your five-year-old peered up at them behind waves of dark hair that tumbled over his big brown eyes despite the way you swooped it out of his face yet again.
“Are those your little ones?” you asked, gesturing over to the street where the two kids were still playing.
Jennifer glanced over to the children before looking back at you, “Yeah. Those are ours. James and Nancy.”
“It was really nice of them to let Ritchie play today.” you started.
The adult conversation got boring quickly for the five-year-old so he slid out from under your maternal touch and slipped inside without a word or goodbye.
“He’s an only child,” you explained, “so he sometimes gets a little lonely…especially in a new neighbourhood and all.”
“Oh, of course.” Jennifer tisked.
“Is he starting school this year?” George asked.
It was the first time you heard him speak apart from a brief greeting drowned out by his wife but it didn’t phase you. The hint of a British accent across his words didn't either, all too used to the same from your own husband. How likely that the suburbs of America brought two Brits as next-door neighbours. Comedically written in the stars, or something of the sort.
“Yeah, he’ll be starting kindergarten next week.” you exhaled, “Big steps.”
“So is James.” George said, “I’m sure they’ll be in the same class. Would be good for them to have a little friend before being thrown into a classroom.”
“Oh, that’d be great.” you sighed thankfully, setting a hand to your chest, “Even that alone brings so much ease to the conscience. I’ve been worried about how he’d transition to this whole new place.”
George smiled knowingly, “And especially when your first is going off to school for the first time.”
“Definitely.”
Footsteps across the foyer floor behind you pulled your attention away from your new neighbours to your husband stepping out onto the porch with you to see what was taking so long - undoubtedly you were tattled on by your five-year-old. You welcomed his arm around your waist as you introduced your new neighbours to him and him to them and they shared brief pleasantries.
“We won’t keep you.” Jennifer took a step back, “I know it’s probably close to dinner time.”
George took one step up onto the stone stairs of your porch to offer out the bakeware, “We just wanted to bring you a little something to say welcome to the neighbourhood.”
“That’s so thoughtful. Thank you so much!” you took it from him.
“Such a nice change to have nice neighbours after the nightmare of living in Manhattan.” Andrew joked.
“Oh, totally. We don’t mess with the city-dwellers.” George waved his hand casually, rising light laughter among your little group. He took a step back towards his wife who was already clearly trying to urge him back towards their house, but he reiterated honestly, “Anything you need, we’re right next door. Don’t be strangers.”
“Thanks a lot!” Andrew raised his hand up in a brief wave and you wished them a good night as they herded their two kids back towards their house and you were gently steered back inside by your husband.
The apple crisp was placed on the kitchen counter and you served some for dessert to your little family. It wasn’t chocolate, candy, or ice cream so Richard wasn’t too impressed, but as adults, you and Andrew both swore it was the best dessert you had in a while - even surpassing your own. You made a mental note to find a way to thank the neighbours next time you saw them.
Having just moved in, your available time was few and far between throughout that weekend and into the beginning of the following week. Your plethora of boxes that needed unpacking as well as your young son who needed to be prepared and set for his first day of school kept you busy and it didn’t help that after the weekend, Andrew was back to work full time, needing to leave earlier to commute into the city and ultimately getting home later for that same reason. You were just appreciating the last few days you had with your son before he was going to be in school for the next two decades. The looming loneliness almost had you craving another baby but the time just never felt right.
Wednesday was Richard’s first day of school and he was that perfect expected mix of nervous and excited. He was already eating his cereal at the kitchen table with his eyes glued to the TV in the adjacent family room when Andrew returned from his early morning run to get ready for work before the sun had even passed the horizon. With a five-year-old, every morning was an early morning but a commuting husband only stressed that fact further.
In his white t-shirt and short white Fila shorts, Andrew was quite the looker as he joined you and your son in the kitchen for good morning kisses before he had to run upstairs to shower and get ready for the day. The white clothing stood out against his tanned skin and dark features right down to the white socks and running shoes. He was still that tall, dark, and handsome stranger you fell in love with those few short years ago and the way your eyes trailed after his legs in those itty bitty shorts only had the desire to fill the second bedroom upstairs heating across your cheeks. But you quickly turned back to your work at the counter prepping Richard’s lunch for school.
Andrew was gone in under an hour and your driveway was left empty as he took the family car for his commute to the train station where he would then take transit into the city. Since the car would be gone every day, Richard was set to take the school bus to school which was a whole new experience for both the five-year-old and yourself. You held his hand as you closed your front door behind you and started on your short walk down the front path of your house and along the curb of the street to the bus stop. Richard’s blue backpack looked almost huge on his back and he carried his metal Flintstones lunch box in the hand that wasn’t claimed by yours.
At the nearest intersection in your quiet suburbia, a few parents and kids were already standing there and waiting for the bus. Richard tugged at your hand and when you looked down at him, he took his hand out of yours to point to the small forming crowd, “I see James, Mommy!”
“You can go run and say hello. I won’t go anywhere.” you promised.
He rushed across the street to the sidewalk and met up with his neighbourly friend he had met on moving day. Sure enough, James’ father was also waiting for the bus to arrive like some of the other parents with his daughter sitting in his arms, and as you approached, you shared quiet ‘good morning’s.
“First day jitters?” you asked lightheartedly.
“Yeah,” George sighed with a melancholy smile, “Although more so me, apparently.”
“Preaching to the choir.” you agreed.
There was a pause as you both stared fondly at your boys talking excitedly together with their seemingly huge backpacks and perfectly styled first-day-of-school hair. You sensed yourself being stared at so you looked back to him only to find the culprit being his young daughter perched in his arms.
“Good morning to you too.” you said sweetly to her. She smiled shyly and leaned her head against George’s as if to hide from you as a stranger.
He rubbed her back and coaxed her, “Say ‘good morning’, Nance.”
She shook her head and tightened her little arms around his shoulders.
“Oh, I wanted to thank you and your wife for the delicious apple crisp.” you said, steering the subject away from the unwanted attention to the shy little girl. George glanced at you as you continued, “Andrew and I agreed that it was the best we’ve ever had.”
“That’s great to hear! I’m glad you enjoyed it. I just found the recipe in the recent issue of Home Cooking magazine and thought I’d give it a try.”
Your eyes widened, “You made it?”
George chuckled, “Yeah. I made it. Is that so hard to believe?”
“Well…no…I guess not.” you stammered, trying to collect your words before you embarrassed yourself, “I’ve just never seen my husband pick up a measuring cup yet alone a whole recipe in all six years we’ve been together. I’m impressed.”
He simply shrugged modestly and gave his daughter a little bounce to try and bring a smile to her face, “Baking is just something I like to do in my spare time when I’m not running after these two crazies.”
“I’ll get that bakeware back to you this week. Don’t want to keep you from your passion projects.”
“No rush!” George promised, “I have plenty.”
“Mommy!” Richard ran right into your legs, burying his face against your thigh, and you only had to glance up to find the cause of his panic was the yellow school bus turning the corner.
“Aw, Ritchie.” you smiled fondly and crouched down in front of him to take his soft face in your hands, “You and James are gonna have so much fun today! And when you get home, I will meet you right here in this very same spot and we’re going to have spaghetti and meatballs for dinner…your favourite.”
He threw his arms around your neck and you held him close as the bus stopped by the curb and opened the doors for the kids. The older few got on with no issues but a few of the younger ones were facing the similar sense of anxiety as Richard was. Even James was lingering close to George despite the way he tried to play it off.
“Okay, my handsome boy.” you gently guided your son away from you and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “The faster you go, the faster you come home!”
He nodded sadly.
George added with a pat to his son’s head, “You two stick together today, alright?”
The boys nodded.
You told your son you loved him and left him with one more kiss before he and his new friend were getting on the school bus together with the rest of the kids. You and George waited there until the bus was long gone around the corner and the other parents started to disperse. Since you were next door neighbours, the two of you walked back towards home together with the added company of George’s daughter still in his arms.
“What are your plans for today?” he asked you casually as you navigated the tree lined street.
“Still unpacking a little.” you confessed. “I feel like it’s been going on forever.”
“I don’t miss that.” he chuckled faintly, “When Jenn and I moved here when we were expecting James it felt like we were never going to get out of the hoard of boxes.”
“Truly. But I just put on my records and get busy.” you shrugged, tucking your hands in the pockets of your blue jeans.
“Are you much of a music listener?” George asked.
“Oh, yes. I’ve been playing Bryan Adam’s album on basically repeat since it came out last year.”
“Cuts Like A Knife?”
You looked over at him with a grin, “Yeah! You know it?”
“Of course. I’m quite into music myself.”
“So is Andy.” you looked back to the street beneath your feet with each slow step side by side, “We met in a music club one night back in ‘78 and you could say he literally swept me off my feet. He plays some guitar but I can’t play an instrument to save my life. We’re hoping Ritchie gets his talent.”
A small smirk tugged at the corner of George’s lips but he nodded modestly, “That’s great. Jenn and I have the same mindset for our two - although I don’t know if she has any musical talent because she claims she never has the time.”
“Maybe I should use that excuse.” you chuckled, “I might deafen you if I ever pick up Andy’s guitar - or if he ever lets me. So if you hear anything that sounds like a dying cat from the next house over, that’s just me and my wonderful musical renditions.”
Stopping by the curb between your two houses, George shared in your smile and your gaze lingered on the way his light eyes shone in the morning sun. He hiked his daughter a bit higher on his hip and readjusted his hands under her bum as he replied smoothly, “I doubt you’re that bad.”
You waved your hand passively as if to brush off his niceties, “You don’t know the half of it. Anyway, all you’ll be hearing is my record player. Please tell me if it gets too loud and disruptive. I can get carried away sometimes.”
“I won’t, but it’s a kind offer.” he smiled with a cock of his head. “Seems you like good music anyway so who am I to complain?”
You set your hands on your hips with an up-turn of your nose in his direction, a mirrored amused smile on your lips at his playfulness, “Well then, I take my role as neighbourhood DJ very seriously. Any requests, you know where I live.”
“I might take you up on that; watch out.”
Your conversation naturally faded out under the waving shade of the lush trees that stretched over your suburban street like a canopy and Nancy tapped George’s cheek shyly to get his attention. He looked at her expectantly and she leaned in to whisper to him under the presence of a stranger - you. The quietness of his youngest had George smiling fondly and he rubbed her back with a soft “okay” before looking to you,
“We have to head back - important date with cartoons and snacks are awaiting us.”
“Of course.” you took a step back towards your lawn, “It was nice seeing you again.”
“You too. And I’m sure we’ll see each other again in the same spot at 3pm sharp.”
You nodded, “That we will.”
Then, he headed across the lawn towards his house that was nestled closely beside yours and with the satisfaction of a nice conversation with your new neighbour fresh in your heart, you made your way into your own house to start your first day all alone.
It wasn’t until the next day that you were able to bring over the bakeware to your neighbours’ since you wanted to make a point to wash it first. Richard was off at school again and after lunch you walked across your shared lawn to the house beside yours, sparkling white dish in your hands. You ascended the few stone steps to the front door and knocked against the glass, hidden from the inside by sheer curtains. After only a few moments, someone appeared behind the door and then it was opened to reveal George.
He smiled warmly at you, “Hey, neighbour.”
You couldn’t hide your slight startle from seeing him, trying to play it cool with a friendly smile and the bakeware held out towards him, “Hi. I brought back your dish. Washed up and everything.”
“Oh, thanks so much.” he took it from you, “You didn’t have to wash it. I’m sure you already have enough on your plate.”
“No trouble. It was the least I could do.” you assured him.
“Did you want to come in?” he asked, “If you don’t have more boxes to unpack.”
You chuckled softly, “I could actually use a break from that overwhelming presence of cardboard.”
“Yeah?” he stepped aside with a warm smile and a cock of his head, “Come on in.”
The wood paneled foyer welcomed you in and you stepped over the threshold with a quiet thank you, your flat shoes landing dully against the linoleum tile floors. George shut the door behind you and led you straight through the modest house towards the kitchen, passed the foyer console table that was lined with photographs of his children around a centred wedding photo of him and Jennifer. Your eyes skimmed them on the way past as you followed him into the kitchen.
“I couldn’t help but expect your wife to answer.” you confessed once you passed by the stairs and entered into the kitchen at the back of the house, the fluorescent lighted ceiling tiles really brightening the space with that 1984 modern touch, “Are you taking the day off?”
“Nope. Everyday is a work day for me. I’m a stay at home dad…Jenn brings home the bacon.” George explained as he opened one of the wood cabinets and crouched down to stack the clean bakeware with the rest under the counter. He then walked around the small island to the corner of the kitchen where the kettle was resting on the stove, “Would you like tea or anything?”
“Tea would be lovely.”
He filled the kettle at the kitchen sink before setting it on the stove again and turning on the heat to boil the water. You stood just out of the way, head whirling with the concept that he was the one who stayed home while his wife worked. You couldn’t help but be nosy.
“So what does Jennifer do for work?”
George opened the fridge to take out the carton of milk, “She’s an executive assistant to some big shot CEO in the city. He’s pretty demanding so she’s always somewhere or another.”
“That’s impressive.”
“Yeah, I’m proud of her.” George pulled a tight lipped smile as he fetched two mugs from one of the cupboards and set them on the counter as the kettle boiled. “We knew when we got married that we wanted at least one of us to be home with the kids as they grew up and her job was already pretty set in stone and secure so we agreed that I’d take the at-home responsibilities.”
“Hence the apple crisp skills.”
“Exactly.” George leaned back against the counter opposite you and he crossed his arms over his chest casually, “Although with two little ones, I’m surprised I have time for much of that. It’s so hectic sometimes. I guess that’s the one good thing about James going off to school now; one less kiddo to chase after during the day.”
“Oh, gosh, I’m sure.” you agreed politely before glancing around the unfamiliar house, “Where’s your other?”
“Napping. We went to the park earlier then had lunch and she was knackered. I’m sure she won’t bother us.”
“Never a bother.” you tisked, “I love kids.”
“But you only have one?” George asked before quickly following it up with a, “Sorry if that’s an invasive statement.”
“No, no. You’re fine.” you shrugged, “Where we lived before was a tiny apartment in Manhattan that Andrew had bought when he was a bachelor after moving from London. Ritchie was literally sleeping in the den with the desk and filing cabinet and things. There was literally no room for another kid.”
“And the time was right to move into a proper house?”
“Yeah. We didn’t feel totally settled in the city and with a young kid I felt like he needed a yard to run around in.”
“I understand that. That’s why we moved out here after we were married. The appeal is just so much nicer than Manhattan when thinking of settling down.”
There was something about George that felt so trustworthy and kind and you found yourself easily relaxing in his company enough to confess, “We didn’t have the luxury of planning. Our relationship was a little…out of order.”
The whistle on the kettle blew and George turned to take it off the stove and shut off the heat while also continuing your conversation, “Out of order? What do you mean?”
“Well…we got married because I was pregnant.”
George’s lips formed a silent ‘o’ in realization and he glanced over at you for a brief moment as he filled the mugs, not quite knowing what to say.
“Married at 20 isn’t totally ideal.” you chuckled, scuffing the toe of your shoe against the tile floor. “But we were in love so it was okay. And Richard is the best kid we could have asked for.”
“All worked out then.” George said with a kind smile in your direction.
You nodded faintly, “Yeah.”
“Milk? Sugar?” he asked with a gesture to the filled and steeping mugs.
“Milk would be great, thanks.”
George prepped the tea and even grabbed a few cookies from the cookie jar to place on a plate for your early afternoon snack and then you followed him back down the hallway and towards the formal living room adjacent to the foyer, passing the photographs once again. The built-in bookcases along the far wall housed more pictures and trinkets from over the years and your eyes lingered on them as you sat on the blue upholstered couch and George arranged your drinks on coasters on the cherry coffee table. With you on one end of the couch, he sat on the other end with a respectable distance between you.
“I was just admiring your photographs.” you confessed when you finally tore your gaze away from the collection across the shelves and you leaned forward to grab your tea with a quiet thanks to him.
“Yeah.” he smiled fondly as he glanced over the frames he was all too familiar with, “I like having them around.”
“The wedding one in the foyer was really sweet.”
George sipped his tea with that gentle upturn of his lips and an acknowledging, “Mhm.”
“How long have you two been married?”
George leaned back on the couch and looked to the ceiling in thought, his mug held at a rest on top of his blue jean clad thigh, “We were married in ‘77 I think…the years seem to get a little foggy. And Jenn doesn’t like to make a big deal about anniversaries so it’s not like we diligently keep track.”
“Oh. Why doesn’t she like to make a big deal?”
He shrugged, “Dunno, really. I think she’s so busy all the time that having one less thing to worry about is easier. The first few years were celebrated and even planned the odd stay-cation but after the five year mark and having kids…it’s just easier to not really bother as much.”
“I guess so. I think Andy and I are the same way…although we never really had the money for stay-cations or elaborate gifts anyway. He’ll just buy me flowers.”
“Flowers are good.” George smiled over at you.
“Yeah.” you exhaled.
“I’m more of the romantic one in my marriage but Jenn isn’t into the whole bit of gifts and time and whatnot so I’ve had to learn to cut back or she gets so overwhelmed.”
You frowned and met his gaze, “That makes me sad.”
He shrugged with a melancholy smile, “Eh, it’s okay. We had our share of mushy love in high school anyway. Maybe we’re just too old for all that now.”
“High school sweethearts?” you pried.
“Mhm.” George’s eyes sparkled. “Met her in our first year of high school when my family had just moved here from London. We were the graduating class of ‘73.”
Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to do the mental math for a moment before finally asking, “So how old are you then?”
George cocked his head to the side with an amused expression, “How old do you think I am?”
“I don’t want to answer that.” you laughed, tucking your hair behind your ear as you looked down to your steaming mug of tea held in your lap.
He spared you with his answer, “I’m 29.”
“Okay, not far off from us. We’re both 26.” you added.
“Still young.” George bantered lightly, “Did you want more kids? Now that you have a bigger house and all.”
“Yeah. I’ve always wanted a whole bunch…Andrew not so much though. He took some time to warm up to Ritchie when I told him I was pregnant the first time so I’m not sure how he’d feel about the pitch of a second.”
“Doesn’t hurt to ask. Marriage is all about give and take, right?”
George’s statement inflicted a bit of ache in your chest as it forced you to reflect back on your six years with Andrew and the desires and plans of your own that you had pushed down to help him thrive in his own life and career. You sipped your tea quietly without a reply, taking a second to daydream about the filled house you had always wanted ever since you were a little girl. A house full of kids and a little job for yourself on the side and a husband who treated you like a queen. You were treated well by him - that was never a question - but everything always felt as if it was falling short to your expectations.
“Sorry.” George’s voice tore you from your thoughts, “I don’t mean to force my way into your marriage as some sort of psychologist.”
“No, no. That’s okay. It just has me thinking.” you looked over at him again with a melancholy smile, “We were just so young and I didn’t really have a chance to know myself or what I wanted before we got married. Andy’s such a good guy but sometimes there’s some sort of disconnect in what we both strive for.”
“That’s fair. But even time doesn’t guarantee that perfect connection. Like how Jenn and I differ with what we want in terms of romance and showing our love. I love the words, the gifts, the intimacy…whereas she just likes when I do her laundry or make her lunch.”
“Got those reverse gender roles, huh?”
George cracked a half smile, “That’s actually very true. I finish tidying this entire house by the time she gets home from work, the kids are already bathed and in bed, and she’s ‘too tired’ to spend any time with me. Honestly, I don’t even know how we ended up with two kids.”
You both shared faint laughter behind casual sips of your tea.
“That’s not much different on our side of the fence.” you agreed. “Must be that working world that just absolutely obliterates someone’s intimacy desires. Is it that tiring?”
“Commuting an hour and a half into the city there and back every day doesn’t help.”
You tisked, “Of course not.”
“It’s easy to feel lonely. I didn’t understand it when I was growing up…seeing my mom being a homemaker and all…but when you’re in it…”
It was the first time someone truly acknowledged how you felt - and a man at that. Even your husband didn’t quite get it, but why would he? But suddenly this stranger was speaking the words that you were too ashamed to even think about and you felt like a weight of a cloud was pulled from your shoulders.
“Yeah.” you breathed, sharing the air across the couch with your unwavering gazes, “That’s exactly it.”
“And then your kids grow up…”
“And then what do you have?” you concluded his sentence, “What is your purpose after that?”
George tisked lightly and scooted slightly closer so he could set his hand on your knee, “You have purpose, okay? You’re not just a mother and not just a homemaker and not just a wife. You’re a woman too.”
You bit lightly at your bottom lip, staring into his gorgeous blue eyes that suddenly seemed to push a warmth through your chest and up to your cheeks.
“You have purpose and you have value.” he told you like he was telling you the most honest truth.
“Thank you.” you mouthed back, worried that if you spoke out loud, your voice might break.
He gave your knee a gentle reassuring squeeze, “Of course.”
You both stayed there, frozen, for a moment, just staring at each other. You felt some sort of warmth all around you from more than just the half empty mug of tea still clutched in your hands, realizing how close you were now. Tearing your gaze away from his light eyes, you naturally glanced at his lips and watched as they perked up at the corner in a gentle smile, moulding the shape of his soft lips and his precisely shaped cupid's bow that you couldn’t help but stare at.
The moment you got the urge to lean in, you turned your head away from him and cleared your throat as you set your mug on the coffee table. His hand was removed from your leg.
“I should go…” you mumbled.
George stood when you did, “Okay.”
“Thank you…for the tea and the company.” you said to the ground as if scared to look at him in fear of feeling those strange warm flutters again.
“Of course. I’m always here…whenever you want to talk or anything.” he promised before leaning down to pick up the plate of untouched cookies, “Biscuit for the long journey home?”
You smiled at his playfulness and when you grabbed one from the plate, you finally looked him in the eye again, “Thank you.”
“Let me walk you out.”
He held his arm out for you to urge you to lead the way and you slid between him and the coffee table to make your way to the front door, trying not to focus on the scent of his cologne as you drifted by him so closely. You needed to get out of there.
You barely remembered saying goodbye or the ghostly touch to your arm he offered in passing before you were out in the fresh air of your neighbourhood and you were trying not to stumble down his front path. The cookie was still held in your hand and your startled eyes darted back over your shoulder to his shut front door before you broke out into a brisk walk across the lawn and onto your own property.
In the peace of your house, you shut your own front door once back inside and you leaned against it heavily, your chest rising and falling in your half panicked breaths. Nothing had happened but it felt like it had and the strange feeling of guilt bubbled up in your stomach. You had never before had thoughts of another man apart from Andrew but you pinned it to George’s manners and how he only said what you wanted to hear. There was nothing to feel guilty about because absolutely nothing happened. Just because you thought something didn’t mean you did anything wrong.
The cookie was still in your hand and you pushed yourself away from the door to take it straight into the kitchen and you tossed it in the garbage bin, closing the lid loudly.
Andrew got home around 6:45, just when you were putting dinner on the table. Richard hopped out of his chair to greet him with an excited hug and your husband crouched down to meet him with a wide grin and open arms. He asked his son how school was and half listened to his youthful explanation of his day as he greeted you with a kiss to the corner of your mouth and drifted past you to his seat at your dining room table.
You ate together as a family like you almost always did and then when Andrew retired to the family room to wind down and watch some TV, you took Richard upstairs to get ready for bed. The little boy was bathed and dressed and afterwards he rushed downstairs to say goodnight to his father before you were tucking him into his single bed in his blue wallpapered room. You always loved watching your son fall asleep; there was something so peaceful about it and gave you a moment to admire his soft features without him running away with youthful exuberance. With a kiss to his head, you left him to sleep and shit his door behind you before making your way back downstairs.
MTV was playing on the chunky TV across the family room and Andrew glanced up at you from the couch when you entered. He held his arm up and you gladly took the spot beside him and cuddled up close. He rested his head against yours with a soft sigh as he focused back on the music video he was watching with the host of MTV counting up that week's hits from the charts.
“Imagine if I was #1.” he spoke quietly, almost dreamily. “Making it big in some internationally known band rather than rotting in some office in Manhattan. We’d have the money to afford an even bigger house.”
You hummed plainly in acknowledgement and slid your arm around his middle as if in some desire to melt completely into him.
Your lack of response had him looking over at you, “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” you mumbled.
You weren’t looking at him but you could feel how he stayed staring at you for a few more seconds before he turned back to the TV too, not wanting to press you further. But then you shifted at his side so you could tuck your legs under yourself on the couch and face him properly.
“Andy.”
“What’s up, sugar?” he rested his head back against his couch so he could look at you again.
The random pop music video played on in the background.
“I wanted to talk to you about something.” you confessed, trailing the hem of his collared work shirt with your finger.
“Alright.” he leaned forward to mute the TV and the smiling dancers danced to nothing on the screen, giving you his full attention.
When he was settled back in his spot on the couch, his big brown eyes on you and his hand on your thigh right where George’s had been earlier that day, you just blurted it out, “I want to have another baby.”
Said big brown eyes blinked at you once, twice, then his eyebrows furrowed for a half second before he spoke, “Oh.”
“We have a bigger house now and that empty room upstairs has been just calling to me or something. And I’ve always wanted many kids and Ritchie is the best we could ask for…where’s the harm in having a second of him?”
Andrew sighed and gave your thigh a squeeze just like George had, “I dunno, sugar.”
“Why not?” you frowned and leaned in closer to him, almost pleadingly.
“Well, work is busy so I won’t be home much and we just are getting settled in this new place-”
“We’ll still have nine months to prepare!” you reminded him quickly.
Andrew laughed lightly towards the carpet, “Yes, I know, but now Ritchie’s away at school and he’s already big and-”
“Which means I won’t have my hands as full taking care of a baby and a kid at home.”
“I don’t think we need another. I am perfectly happy with our little family as is. Aren’t you?”
You nibbled at your bottom lip as you stared at him while he looked at you expectantly and everything in your heart wanted to tell him no but your quiet voice abandoned you with a soft, “Yeah, I guess.”
Andrew lifted his hand from your lap to tuck your hair behind your ear before pulling you close by his arm around your shoulders, “Maybe you’re just saying this because you’re not used to being alone since Ritchie started school.”
“Maybe.” you muttered.
“I am very happy with the life we have. I don’t need anything more.” he tried to be sweet about it but your heart ached and even as he kissed the corner of your mouth, you had to force the smile to come to your lips.
Andrew rested his head against yours as he unmuted the TV and the top hit pop song filled your family room and the big house that felt empty in your heart. Your eyes drifted away from the screen to peer through the adjacent window that looked out towards the neighbour’s property and although only looking at red brick and white siding, you silently and guiltily wished you had what they had.
Since Richard had no siblings, you knew that it would be important for him to socialize outside of school with kids his own age at various activities. He had expressed interest in baseball not long before so you jumped on the opportunity to sign him up for the local little league team just before the fall season was set to start. You, yourself, were excited for a bit of a distraction after the ultimate letdown that was your conversation with your husband a few evenings prior although Andrew went about his days like nothing was wrong.
On Tuesday evening, you were getting Richard into his baseball uniform for his first practice, making sure that the shirt and pants fit him properly on his young body that seemed to be growing faster than you could buy clothes for it. He stood proudly in his mirror in his room as you adjusted his navy blue baseball cap over his dark hair and swooped his messy bangs out of his face. Grinning up at you in approval, he didn’t even have to say a word for you to read exactly what was on his mind.
“You look so grown up, Ritchie!” you gushed, crouching down to his height for one last shirt adjustment, “You excited?”
“Yeah! I’m gonna get a home run!” he announced.
“I bet you are!” you held up your hand and he smacked his little palm against yours for a high five. “Come now, let’s show Daddy and then get your shoes on.”
Richard rushed right out of his bedroom and hurried down the stairs in his socked feet, “Daddy, I’m ready!”
Andrew was already waiting by the front door and seeing his son coming down the stairs brought a beaming grin to his face, “Looking so spiffy, little slugger.”
You passed over the baseball shoes to your husband, “Can you put his shoes on for him while I get the snacks?”
“Of course.” Andrew took the pair from you and crouched down in front of the little boy who obediently rested his hands on his father’s shoulders and stuck one foot out for a shoe.
You returned to the kitchen that still had the dinner dishes in the sink in need of washing but time was already cutting it close and you were already in a bit of a rush to get to the field in time. The cooler was packed and sitting beside the fridge and you checked that the watermelon slices and Hi-C juice boxes were tucked away with some bags of ice before locking the lid and carrying it back down the hallway to your family. Andrew took the cooler from you to carry it to the car himself and you ushered your excited five-year-old out of the door after him so you could close up the house.
As you walked down the front path to the driveway, you couldn’t help but glance over to your neighbours’ and notice their family car was missing from their house. You forced yourself to ignore the curiosity that was getting the better of you as you had been in a constant strive to pretend absolutely nothing had happened between you and George. In reality, nothing did happen, but the strange feeling of guilt was eating at your heart. Some distance would do just the trick, you were sure.
It was nice to have Andrew able to come to Richard’s first little league practice, especially after he was tired from a long day of commuting and work, but you thanked him silently with a quick kiss to his cheek as you climbed in the passenger seat of your station wagon. His warm smile back at you still managed to bring that little flutter to your heart after your six years together and you broke his gaze to glance to your son in the back seat. Richard gave you two thumbs up and a beaming grin that was all his father’s, making his big brown eyes scrunch closed at the corners, all ready to go to his first event.
The community park was only about a five minute drive from your house and once Andrew pulled into the gravel parking lot, it appeared that there were still some families pulling up. The baseball diamond looked busy though so you hurried to get your son all signed in and so he could meet his teammates and coach. Andrew took the cooler and your hand while Richard ran ahead in his own determination to socialize. You joined the queue of parents by the team dugout who were signing in their sons and as you waited, you both watched Richard help himself to the group of boys who were playing in the red sand of the baseball diamond, all in matching navy blue uniforms with their own chosen number on their backs.
After a few moments, Andrew gave your hand a squeeze to get your attention, “I’m going to put the cooler down and find us a spot on the bleachers. You okay to sign him in?”
“Of course.” you agreed.
He left you with a brief kiss before heading off to the metal bleachers that were already dotted with parents and families alike. You watched him go for a few seconds before turning back to the lineup you were in, only to find yourself face to face with George himself. You were so startled that you nearly choked over your breath but he just smiled cooly.
“Hello, neighbour.”
“Hey.” you stumbled out. “Hi. What are you doing here?”
George glanced down at his blue baseball jersey and then back to you with a casual wave of the clipboard in his hand, “I’m the coach.”
“Oh, right, of course you are.” you chuckled faintly.
“Your boy signing up?”
“Yeah, his name should be on the list. Richard Ridgeley.”
George, who had looked down at his clipboard after his initial question, only glanced back up at you with his eyebrows raised.
“What?” you asked worriedly.
He licked away his smile and looked back down to his list with a half shake of his head, “Nothing.”
If it was anyone else, you would have been mad, but it was George and you knew he meant no harm. You couldn’t help but smother a smile of your own in return, “Are you making fun of my son’s name?”
“Not at all. I love alliteration. Very poetic.”
“Okay, shut up.” you laughed. “I bet your last name is no better.”
“Russell.” he told you smoothly with a playful glance.
You scoffed teasingly, “Of course…George Russell…what a champion kinda name.”
“Who knows…maybe I’ll be MVP before you know it and you’ll be seeing my face everywhere…getting totally sick of me.”
“Mhm.” you tried to steady the racing of your heart at the realization that you were already trying not to see his face everywhere, desperate to change the subject, “So is my kid on the list or not?”
“Yeah, yeah, he’s here.” George crossed his name off, “I also see you’re down for snack duty.”
“Sure am. Brought my cooler and everything.” you gestured aimlessly towards the bleachers.
George looked back up at you but his eyes drifted past you with a tight smile. Before you could look over your shoulder to see what he was looking at, Andrew appeared beside you and set his hand on your back.
“All signed up?” he asked.
“Yeah. We’re all set.” you answered calmly.
“Hey, mate, good to see you.” George held his hand out to your husband and they shook hands politely.
“You too.” Andrew smiled, “It’s been a while.”
“Sure has.”
“Well we should let you get set up.” you said, taking a step away from George and closer to Andrew.
“No worries.” George adjusted his cap on his head with a smile, “See ya after.”
Then he was walking off into the baseball diamond to corral the little boys to begin their practice. You and Andrew headed back to the bleachers and to the spot he had saved for you with the cooler and you sat on the metal bench between the other interested parents. It was surprising that so many parents wanted to stay and watch even if it was just a practice but it reinstated your good feelings about your new neighbourhood and how involved everyone was with the community.
While George directed the boys through throwing drills and showing them how to swing the bats, you found yourself staring more at him than you son. There wasn’t really much to watch when the other kids were taking their turns anyway and there was something about George in those light wash blue jeans that just drew your eyes in shamelessly. They just fit so nicely over the curve of his ass and you habitually licked your lips with a focused cock of your head.
Andrew’s arm draping around your shoulders made you jump and you pressed a hand to your heart despite his grinning face and you huffed, “You scared me.”
“That into the practice, huh?” he chuckled.
“Yeah.” you mumbled and looked back to the field for a moment, pulling Richard out of the crowd of boys with ease before you glanced back at your husband, “I’m glad you could come.”
“Of course.” Andrew smiled over at you in the evening sunshine, “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Well, I dunno. With work and the longer commute and all…you’ve seemed more tired…busy.”
Andrew sighed and pulled you closer by your shoulders and you rested your head against his as he spoke to you quietly, “Yeah, it has been a lot to get used to. I’m sorry I haven’t been around much and if you feel like I’m letting you down.”
“Oh, you’re not letting me down.” you assured him, lifting your head up again so you could give him your full attention, “I’m proud of you for sticking with it even when it gets hard. You work so hard for Ritchie and for me and I really do appreciate it.”
Andrew reached his free hand up to tap your nose lightly and you shared in his calm smile before he was guiding you towards him by the chin for a kiss or two.
“I love you.” he whispered against your cheek.
Your eyes drifted back out to the field, “I love you too.”
At the halfway mark, George called you over with the snacks and Andrew let you slip out of his arms to do your little job. You helped to hand out the juice boxes and watermelon slices to each little boy and most said thank you - and your son even gave you a kiss with his thanks. George stood beside you to watch as his little players ate their snack and relaxed on the grass for a few minutes and once your stock was empty, you closed up your cooler.
“Thanks again for bringing the snack.” George said as you stood up.
“Any time.” you smiled, “Is it a rotation thing or is it one parent for the season?”
“It depends. Why, are you willing to be the designated snack-bringer?”
“For you, sure.”
It was out of your mouth before you could think about how it would sound and George’s expression rose into a hint of amusement.
You cleared your throat, “And the boys, of course.”
“Of course.” George nodded.
You stared at each other for a few seconds.
Then, his hand was on your arm, “I should get back to practice. I will expect you here with snacks next week then.”
He was gone before you could process the warmth that his touch left and you just smiled and nodded after him as he herded the snacking boys back to the diamond, the sunshine yellow '63' printed boldly on the back of his jersey. You carried your empty cooler to the bleachers again and sat yourself stiffly beside your husband who was oblivious to anything going on and, instead, was waving to your son from across the field.
For the next week or two, you ran into George more than you’d have ideally wanted. Between school drop off and pick up, little league baseball practice, and the casual neighbourly run-ins, it was starting to feel nearly impossible to avoid him. And, at the same time, the more you saw him, the more you didn’t want to avoid him. There was something so charismatic about him that made him so easy to talk to and to confide in and you hated to confess that you took him up on his offer for tea once or twice during the week. While you sipped in his living room, there was never a silent moment as there was always something to talk about and even little Nancy was starting to warm up to you just a little.
Despite your fluctuating feelings towards your neighbour, your guilt was something that stayed stagnant. You loved Andrew with your whole heart and you never once doubted that, but the strange warmth that spread across your skin at a mere glance at George was unlike anything you had felt before. You swore it would be something you would take to the grave. No one - especially not George or Andrew - needed to know the internal battle you were facing.
Since your first conversation with George at his house two weeks earlier, you only started to see more and more of the truth behind your honest chat. Andrew was working himself exhausted between the commute into the city and the lengthy hours which left almost no time for you to relax as husband and wife the way you would have appreciated. You tried to talk to him here and there about it but you also didn’t want to make him feel badly - you knew he was trying his absolute best and for that you were grateful. But still, at the end of the day, you were still a woman with needs and it was growing increasingly more frustrating to sit around and wait for him to give you the satisfaction that you needed.
The one good thing about Richard being off at school was that you had more private time which, with children, often was incredibly few and far between. With your record player on, you were listening to Madonna’s album as you vacuumed the main floor of your house, letting your mind wander on its own. Maybe it was the emptiness of your house or maybe it was a certain time in your hormonal cycle but as the seconds ticked by, your desire to tend to the house diminished greatly. Finally, the vacuum was turned off mid chore and you rested it down on the carpet before flopping back onto the couch with a huff to the ceiling. Your music played on from the other room, the familiar scratch of the vinyl record bringing comfort and you closed your eyes for a moment to let yourself be taken by the celestial voice of Madonna.
As if with a mind of their own, your fingers inched their way over your thigh and up to the waistband of your straight leg blue jeans and you popped the button, taking an habitual glance towards the front door as if someone were going to walk right in unannounced. But you were in the complete privacy of your own home, away from the paper thin walls of Manhattan apartment buildings, and you could do as you so pleased. Your jeans were dropped to the carpeted floor.
Propping your feet up on the edge of the coffee table in front of you, you got yourself situated comfortably within the warm embrace of the sofa cushions and your eyes were drawn to your framed wedding photo that sat on the fireplace mantle directly in front of you. Licking your lips and then your fingertips, you didn’t tear your eyes away from it as you slipped your hand down the front of your underwear and refamiliarized yourself with your body.
It had been so long that the first graze of your fingers had your lips parting in a soft gasp, working yourself slowly without any sort of prior build up, gentle circles over your aching clit. You hadn’t realized how many weeks had gone by without any sort of touch like this until you got yourself in that position. Under slightly furrowed brows, you stared straight ahead at your wedding photo, eyes boring into those of your husband without so much as a blink; almost as if you were reconditioning yourself to direct your full entire attention at him and him alone.
No more nonsense thoughts of the neighbour.
Even though you spoke that line to yourself in warning, the concept just tasted so good to your mind with your hand down your panties and your legs spread in the middle of your sun-bathed family room. Flashes of him at the last little league game filled your head; the way his arms looked in that snug navy blue t-shirt standing out against his lightly tanned skin…his blue eyes sparkling every time he looked at you. You couldn’t help but let your eyes flutter closed and your head fell back against the couch with a soft whimper, shutting out the framed photo with the curse of your own mind.
Little did you know, said neighbour was on his way over to your house at that very moment with a sealed Tupperware container in hand and a whistle on his lips. The faint muffled sound of Madonna leaking through your walls brought a fond smile to George’s face as he crossed over onto your property and made strides over your perfectly trimmed grass. His attention was caught by the sight of you through the single paned front window and he went to send you a smile and a wave until he stopped in his tracks at the realization of what he had stumbled upon.
There you were, lounged back on your couch, socked feet propped up on the coffee table with your legs spread and your hand nestled between them. The look on your face was nearly erotic as you faced the ceiling with an angelic furrowed expression and made yourself writhe under your own touch, any sounds muted by the music that filled your empty home.
George stepped away from the front window so as to not be caught and he turned to head back home to give you your privacy but before he crossed over the property line again, something stopped him. Almost like he was held by an invisible force, he stood dumbly at the edge of your lawn, staring at his house, the Tupperware container of homemade banana bread held in his hands. Everything in him knew it was wrong but he couldn’t help but glance back to the side of your white paneled home to the side window that gave him a direct glance inside and to the couch on which you sat.
If anyone drove by, they would have thought this man looked absolutely ridiculous just standing there, but he was captivated by you, watching you touch yourself to whatever thoughts were taking up your mind. Little did he know, but they were thoughts of him.
His name fell from your lips when you came, almost startling yourself in the process. As your body shuttered through the small waves of your orgasm, your eyes snapped open to land on your wedding photo again as if your husband had seen the whole thing. A furious blush came to your cheeks and you panted heavily as you tried to catch your bearings and process the realization of what you had just done. Sitting up a little more on the couch, you found yourself unable to look at the framed photograph again, instead, staring wide eyed into the darkened fireplace beneath.
A flutter through the window beside the fireplace caught your eye but when you looked, there was nothing there. You hurried to tug your jeans back on and buttoned them up before making a beeline to the kitchen to wash your hands and splash some cool water on your face. What was wrong with you? Your husband was going to walk through the door in four hours and you were going to have to kiss him hello with the mouth that just moaned another man’s name. You were going to have to face said man at the bus stop in an hour and that was the last thing you wanted to do.
Before you knew it,
“Hey.”
“Hello.”
Silence.
“Did you have a good day?”
“Huh? Oh, me? Yeah…fine. It was fine. Nothing…important.” you looked to the sidewalk beneath your feet.
George nodded, “Nice.”
Silence.
“How was yours?” you asked.
“Fine. It was good.”
“Good.”
“Good.”
Silence.
You urged the bus to round the corner with the pleading glance of your eyes, desperate to escape the horribly awkward situation that was completely one sided. George cleared his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to another at your side. Neither of you knew what the other knew and somehow it made it that much worse. You swore that even a few of the other parents at the bus stop were catching onto your horrible tension and you tugged at the collar of your shirt habitually to try and get some air.
In reality, it was all in your head but, to be fair, George was all in your head too and that was the root of your issue. As you stood there, your mind taunted you with the thoughts that had clouded your mind that afternoon - curious imagination of how his lips would feel or how his hands could grab you or how his body would feel against yours, traced by your fingertips. You discreetly stepped away from him.
In perfect time, the bright yellow school bus rounded the corner and you took that opportunity to step even further away from George, feigning it as simply excitement to see your son. Like every afternoon, Richard ran off the bus and right into your arms and you hugged him tightly with your warm maternal greeting. You barely gave George a goodbye before you were encouraging your son to race you home - a perfect excuse to get as far away from George as possible…and as quickly as possible. Of course, despite the way you ran down your street in the afternoon breeze, you still let Richard get to the front door first and you let him inside with a ruffle to his hair and one last glance from where you came, almost as if you were hoping to see your neighbour trailing after you.
Later that evening, once Andrew was home and dinner was had and Ritchie was tucked into bed, you were desperate to repair the damage to your mind that you had caused by your own actions. Your husband was sitting in the same spot on the couch as you had been earlier that day, already in his pyjamas, a magazine in his hand as he read quietly by the light of the table lamp. He was oblivious but you felt as though just him sitting there would cause him to realize what you had done so the only way to prevent that was to bring your full and entire attention back to him - where it rightfully belonged.
You plucked the magazine from his hands and tossed it onto the coffee table, urging his eyes to raise to your face as you tossed a leg over his lap and sat yourself down on his thighs. His hands fell to your hips just as you swooped in to kiss him purposefully, lingering on his lips for a few seconds before offering him a bit of tongue. He humoured you for a few seconds before he was tilting his head back with a soft chuckle to break your kiss.
“What are you doing?” he asked playfully.
You slung your arms around his shoulders and leaned forward against his chest until your noses were almost touching, asking him almost pleadingly, “Have sex with me.”
Andrew’s hands gave your hips a squeeze, “You know I love you,”
“Mhm.”
“But I’m far too tired for that right now, sugar, I’m sorry.”
“Andy.” you dropped your head back in frustration, staring at the same part of the ceiling that you had earlier that day.
“I’ll be nothing but completely disappointing to you.” he argued lightly. “You deserve my best.”
You frowned and slid off his lap onto the couch beside him with a sigh.
“I’m sorry.” he repeated, leaving his hand on your waist to keep you close and he kissed up your neck, “It was just a really exhausting day today. Maybe this weekend, okay?”
“Since when do we have to plan it?” you tisked.
“Since we got old.” he teased.
A small smile perked at the corner of your lips and you swatted him gently with the back of your hand, “Speak for yourself.”
Andrew kissed over your cheek and to your lips and you shared a few brief kisses before he replied softly, “We are the same age, in case you forgot, and thus we are going to get old together.”
Never before did that statement bring a tinge to your heart but in that moment it did and you could only pull a tight smile and nod in reply and he gave you one more kiss before shifting off the couch and taking you by the hand to lead you to bed.
By Friday, you seemed to have fallen back into your usual routine of pretending that George didn’t exist. The few times you saw each other in passing or at the baseball games were few and far between and conversations didn’t stray farther than a polite hello or shallow discussions about your sons or the weather. Your initial guilt due to your solo situation on your couch from earlier in the week seemed to die down and you were very thankful for that. George was a great guy and you appreciated him as your neighbour and wanted to keep it that way.
That might also have been a reason why he was the first person you thought to call when your washing machine flooded all over your basement floor just after lunch. If nothing else, he was kind and reliable. He came over right away with his tool box in hand and you opened the front door for him and led the way into the basement where the flood was occurring. The unfinished concrete floor was covered with a thin layer of cold water that only seemed to be leaking more from somewhere behind the washing machine.
“I haven’t even used it since we moved in!” you said as you stepped cautiously through the water to your laundry basket that was sitting protected on top of the machine. “First time and of course it goes to shit.”
“It’s okay.” George set his tool box on top of the adjacent dryer and then leaned over the two machines to see down between them and the wall, flashlight in hand. “Good you called. Wouldn’t want you flooding away.”
“My new house at that.” you added.
“Exactly.” George wrapped his hands around the sides of the washer and warned you politely, “Step back a bit.”
When you did, he heaved the machine away from the wall with a tight grunt and your eyes widened at the bulge of his biceps under his t-shirt. It certainly wasn’t a light thing to move so you coloured yourself impressed and you stayed out of his way as he managed to give himself enough space to get between the washer and the wall with a wrench from his tool box. You clutched your hands together and held them anxiously in front of your mouth as you watched him crouched down working, focusing your attention on hoping there was no damage done to your house rather than how his jeans fit him so nicely over his thighs.
“Nothing major.” he called out with his head still hidden by the washing machine, “Just a loose pipe. Guess they weren’t installed correctly.”
“Damn.” you tisked.
“Yeah,” George chuckled, his voice tight as he worked the wrench around the pipe to fix it for you, “That’s what you can expect from these installers on new builds. They’re getting sloppy.”
“You seem to know what you’re doing.”
George straightened up carefully from behind the washing machine, “Same thing happened to us when we moved in, if you can believe. I actually liked to pay attention to what the plumber was telling me…and guess it helped to save you $30.”
Your eyes widened, “$30? My Lord.”
“Yeah,” George chuckled and set his wrench back in his tool box, “Should be all set now. If you have some towels we can use to mop up the floor that could be good. I can restart this load for you.”
“Sure. Thanks.” you headed back upstairs and traipsed your damp footsteps up to the second floor to retrieve all your towels you owned from the linen cupboard in the main bathroom.
Bringing them all back to the basement, George had restarted your load of laundry that you had attempted to put on - including detergent and fabric softener and even set it to the correct wash cycle for your blouses. He then showed you the most efficient way to mop up the water with the towels without allowing it to leak into the foundation of the house and you couldn’t help but be impressed by his knowledge base.
“I can’t thank you enough.” you said with a relieved sigh as you both stood on the bottom step of the basement stairs and admired the organized mess of towels soaking up the water.
“No problem at all.” George assured you modestly, “Was the most interesting thing to happen today.”
“Yeah, I bet.” you chuckled, “Nothing like a damsel in distress call to really shake up the lunch hour.”
“Hardly a damsel in distress.” George brushed his hand over your back casually, “You’re perfectly capable in many ways.”
You met his eye in the dim basement lighting before turning to look back up the flight of stairs as you cleared your throat, “Did you want tea or anything?”
“Sure. If you’re offering.”
As you led the way back upstairs and into your kitchen, you realized that was the first time he was in your house. Of course, it was when your basement was flooding and you had breakfast dishes still in the sink and Richard’s toy cars scattered all over the family room and part of you felt embarrassed as if you had to impress him for some reason.
“Sorry that the place is such a mess.” you rushed out as you hurried across the kitchen to try and make the mound of dishes in the sink look less disgusting.
“No need to apologise.” George tisked, “Realities of parenthood. I get it. I don’t judge.”
“Yeah.” you sent a calm smile over at him in silent thanks before focusing on filling up the kettle in the sink, ready to make you both tea just like he did for you that first day you truly talked.
George set his tool box on the round kitchen table and stuffed his hands in the front pockets of his jeans as he walked slowly around the kitchen and took in your shiny new house that was already starting to look like a home. The counter by the hallway archway was covered in pens and stamps and opened mail on which your address was written on each and addressed to ‘Mr and Mrs Andrew J Ridgeley’. George looked away, walking across the linoleum floor towards you and he leaned against the counter beside the stove as you turned on the burner and set the kettle down on top.
“Where’s Nancy today?” you asked casually.
“Oh, sometimes she goes to work with Jenn on Fridays and spends the day at the daycare in the office building. She has a few little friends there and whatnot so she likes it.” George explained.
“That’s nice.” you replied, “So on Fridays you really feel like an empty-nester like me, huh?”
George laughed faintly, “Yeah, I suppose I do.”
“Good thing I saved you then today.”
“Very good thing.” George agreed smoothly.
There was a calm pause between you as the kettle boiled on the stovetop and you looked away from his light-eyed gaze with a casual lick to your lips. You tapped your fingers against the countertop.
“Y’know,” George said, “I was worried you were avoiding me recently or something.”
You looked back at him, “What?”
“I just felt like you’ve been going out of your way not to talk to me or something so getting your call today kinda reassured me that we’re still on good terms.”
You let out a half laugh and rested your hand against your forehead for a brief moment in near embarrassment, “Actually…I kinda was, honestly.”
George’s eyes widened, “Oh? Did I do something?”
“No, no.” you assured him quickly, “We have just been spending a lot of time together and I didn’t want Andy to get the wrong idea.”
“Did he say something?”
“Well…no…but-”
“Then what wrong idea is there to get?”
You let out a soft nervous laugh without looking away from the steaming kettle but you didn’t offer him any sort of response. George cocked his head to the side slightly in acknowledgment that he was listening for your reasoning. You had his undivided attention. Why did it make you nervous?
“You’re just…” you sighed despite the anxious smile that you couldn’t lick away, staring unwaveringly at the stove, “Really sweet and really personable and I don’t want to get too comfortable and too close to where Andy might feel uncomfortable or suspicious. Or Jennifer, for that matter. There are boundaries, you know? I don’t want to overstep.”
“And if there weren’t boundaries? What would be different?”
The kettle whistled and you stalled in answering his question by taking it from the stove and turning off the burner so you could pour the water into the mugs to steep. Finally, you set the empty kettle back down and forced yourself to look at him, “I don’t think it’s appropriate to be talking about this.”
“You started it.”
“I didn’t say anything.” you countered quickly, covering your bases.
“It’s not what you’re saying…it’s how you’re saying it.” George said smoothly. You were suddenly very attuned to how warm and rich his voice was and your eyes flicked across his face like they always did when he was around, wanting to look at every inch of him. He continued purposefully, “How you can’t stop staring at me, especially.”
You scoffed and turned away from him with a blush rising to your cheeks, “I’m not staring at you.”
“You were. You often do.” George teased. “I’m not a complete idiot, I know when someone is checking me out.”
“I don’t-” you laughed nervously down to your steaming mugs of tea, your hands falling gently onto the edge of the counter, “I don’t check you out.”
“Yes, you do.” George laughed just the same. “It’s okay. I don’t mind it. It’s flattering.”
You opened your mouth to reply with some defence but no words came to mind and you shut your mouth with a frustrated little huff and you pressed the heels of your palms against your eyes for a moment. With your cheeks so warm they could keep your tea hot, you almost wanted to leave if it wasn’t for the fact that it was your own kitchen you were both standing in.
When your hands dropped loudly to your sides, George leaned his hip against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest as he asked in retaliation, “Do you mind when I check you out?”
Offering a disbelieving laugh, you glanced over at him, “You don’t check me out.”
“Why do you say that?” he questioned.
“Why?” you were taken aback, “Because I dunno. Because why would you?”
“Because you’re beautiful.” George answered. “And I most definitely stare at you…although I must be better at hiding it than you are.”
You kept your eyes on his, eyebrows furrowing for a brief moment, and you let a faint smile prick at your lips as you gave him a faint shake of your head.
“Can I confess something?” he asked.
“Sure.”
“The other day I came over here to bring you some banana bread I had baked but…I saw that you were already occupied on the couch.” he gestured haphazardly behind him towards your family room. “And I might have stared at you a little then.”
Your eyes widened and you raised your hands to your cheeks in realization, “Oh my God.”
“I’m really sorry, I should have just left when I first noticed but…” George sighed, “You looked fucking gorgeous when you were touching yourself like that.”
“That’s so embarrassing.” you mumbled despite your smile and the eye contact you kept with him.
“No, it’s not.” George shrugged, “We’re human…we can do whatever we need to in the privacy of our own homes.”
“With peeping neighbours in our windows.” you teased.
“Hey, now.” he laughed, reaching out to gently nudge your arm, “Not like I was standing out there with binoculars in one hand and my dick in the other.”
Your smile faltered for a second as if he had completely read your thoughts from that day and how you shamefully fantasized about him as you made yourself cum on your family couch. George’s hand grazed down your arm and his finger linked in the sleeve of your blouse for a brief moment as if he were debating something in his own mind.
Then, his eyes focused on yours once more and he asked as casually as the weather, “What were you thinking about?”
It was a question that would ultimately change the course of your life depending on how you answered but at the moment, you didn’t think that deeply about it. He was right there and he already confessed that he liked it when he stumbled across you like that, the least he deserved was an honest answer. Not to mention the gorgeous blue of his eyes was so mesmerizing that maybe you were a bit dizzy by him as you breathed out a soft, “You.”
Pin drop silence.
Unbreakable eye contact.
And then he was grabbing you by the back of your neck and yanking you towards him for a kiss that burned every inch of your skin.
Your hands grasped the front of his t-shirt to hold him as close as possible, letting your lips mould sloppily together in some sort of semblance of a kiss that easily progressed into more. Standing at the counter in your kitchen, you grabbed onto each other like you were life preservers and he kissed you with so much passion that you had nearly forgotten what it had been like to be craved so carnally like that. He nearly took the breath from your lungs, bending over you until your back was arched and your body took the shape of his. Your hands tangled in the back of his hair as your lips smacked together wetly, tongues pushing together for a greedy taste of infidelity; although your spouses were the last things on your minds.
The steeping tea was forgotten about as he guided you backwards blindly across the kitchen and you gently hit the edge of the opposite counter, giving him the chance to grab the backs of your thighs and hoist you up onto it. Right away, your arms and legs were slinging around his body and yanking him closer all without breaking your kiss, sharing hungry moans into each other's mouths. Your fingers tightened in his soft hair but your aggression just pulled a handsome groan from his throat that tasted like heaven against your tongue.
With your ankles linked behind his back, you used the heels of your feet to pull him closer to the counter as you rested near the edge so the front of his blue jeans were pressed up snugly against yours, getting your fix of that fiery touch after so long, regardless of who it was. Your eyes were shut tightly with greed, taking what you wanted from his lips with your body arching against his. George’s hands on your hips pressed indentations of his fingerprints into your flesh and he held you against him as he grinded against you faintly.
The sweet moan that fell from your lips had him moving like that again, rutting the front of his jeans right up between your spread legs, creating that friction that satisfied the craving of pleasure that you ached for. You moved with him faintly, grinding against his body in return from your spot on the edge of the kitchen counter until you both were turning more and more desperate from it.
George broke away from your kiss first and his hands shoved up the bottom of your blouse and lifted it over your head so it could be tossed aimlessly to the floor. You panted heavily to the kitchen as he moved his kisses down your neck and over your breasts that were tucked in your unflattering bra but he didn’t mind one bit. He groaned against your chest as he sank to his knees in front of the counter, “You’re fucking sexy.”
“Holy shit.” you exhaled, lifting your bum off the countertop when he popped the button on your jeans so he could yank them off you.
“That’s it.” George licked his lips as he guided your feet back until your heels were tucked on the edge so you were spread open for him, only separated by your underwear. He leaned in close and dusted his nose right up between your legs before his tongue was following, teasing your pussy over your underwear with the faintest of touches that still managed to make you squirm. He stared up at you from his knees, sending you a teasing wink as his fingers linked in the hem of your panties and he started to pull them down too, “I’ve wanted to do this for too fucking long.”
Once they were dropped to the floor too and your feet were back in place where he wanted them, you could barely rush out a reply, “Me too.”
In reality, you hadn’t truly realized you wanted that until you were put in that position but the images that your mind pictured earlier that week certainly might have proved otherwise.
He touched you like you were a masterpiece, gliding two fingers down between your glistening folds with his lips parted in near awe, watching how your wetness clung to his fingertips greedily. You raked a hand through his hair to guide his face in too and he gladly obeyed, nustling his tongue alongside his fingers with a gorgeous exhale that sent shivers up your spine. The caresses of his tongue were devine and he teased around your clit and down across your pussy in gentle strokes that had your head lolling to the side.
Being in that position wasn’t new to you - you had a husband after all - but you weren’t aware of how limited your experience might have been until George had you there. His first few touches and licks were expected and you offered him soft hums in appreciation, your teeth sunken into your bottom lip faintly as you watched him between your thighs. But then his large hands were sliding around your thighs and his fingers pressed into your flesh, his wedding ring on his left hand shimmering in the early afternoon sunlight, and he was nuzzling his face deeper with quick laps of his tongue. Your mouth fell open at his insistence and your hand in his hair gripped tighter in surprise.
“Oh-” you stumbled out faintly.
George tugged you closer to the edge of the counter as he slurped at your cunt until he was sucking on your clit and your head tossed back with a sharp gasp and your back straightened up.
“Fuck!” you squeaked.
He hummed against you, blue eyes staring straight up your body to gauge your every reaction as he tongued at your clit in quick strokes. The feeling was intense and you didn’t know what to do with yourself as you gaped dumbly into your kitchen and almost choked over your breath, eyes struggling to stay open, and your hand that wasn’t tangled in his hair ended up slamming flatly against the side of your refrigerator. The upper cabinets caught your head as you let out a loud moan to the ceiling, toes curling over the edge of the countertop, and George only grabbed tighter to your thighs to hold you on his mouth.
Your hand tightened in his hair although you couldn’t decide if you were pulling him closer or wanting to push him away with how strong the pleasure was that he built within you. You mouthed a silent chant of “fuck, fuck, fuck-” to your kitchen ceiling, gaping dumbly to the light fixture. George took his right hand back just long enough to slip two fingers in his mouth before he was guiding them slowly inside your leaking pussy.
“Oh God-” you whined tightly.
“Good girl.” he praised warmly against your cunt as his fingers started to thrust into you shallowly but strongly. “This what you were thinking about?”
“Mhm-” you could only nod cluelessly, barely able to make out what he was saying thanks to the ringing of your ears that was brought on by the pleasure he introduced to your body.
His tongue flicked faster at your clit and his fingers nudged up against that warm spongy spot just inside you at a perfect consistent pace. The moans that tumbled from your lips were nearly involuntary, coaxed out of you by his generous touch, until you were sure the neighbours could hear - if it weren’t for the fact that your neighbour was the one between your legs at that very moment. All your stresses and anxieties from the prior few short weeks seemed to fall away and the rush of pleasure that tore through your body completely made up for it.
You felt dizzy and you rested your head back heavily against the upper cabinets behind you with your eyes screwed shut, barely able to choke out a, “Yes-”
George gripped you tighter and kept his pace going, keeping his eyes on your face even if you weren’t looking at him. He analyzed your every flutter of expression to see just how you wanted it, smothering a half smirk at the displeased huff that you let out when he gave his tongue a break to suck on your clit instead. The change up took a second to get used to but you had never been so catered to before so you weren’t one to complain, tightening your fingers in his soft hair while he worked wonders on you.
Then that build up was forming again, flushing warmth across your skin, and you gaped down to him, “Yeah, yeah, yeah-”
George didn’t move a muscle from exactly where you needed him even as your legs started to quiver from where you were held open. You choked over your next breath as the first wave of pleasure tore down your spine and George gripped onto your thighs to hold you steady on the edge of the kitchen counter as you came on his mouth. His name fell from your lips like it was second nature and it truly felt so much better when he was there to hear it himself.
He pulled away once you started to get sensitive and he pulled his fingers out of you as he stood up and he rubbed along your messy cunt in lazy strokes. Your hand in his hair slid around the back of his neck and pulled him in for another open mouthed kiss, instantly sharing the taste of you that lingered on his tongue and you sucked on it greedily. George blindly unbuttoned his jeans while he kissed you, barely able to drop them and his underwear to the floor before you were tucking your legs around his waist again and tugging him closer.
“No one’s ever gone down on me like that before.” you confessed breathily between feverish kisses.
“No?” George chuckled cockily into your mouth, kicking his jeans off his ankles and across your kitchen floor, “Well good thing you have me.”
You offered a sweet “mhm” in reply that was quickly swallowed up by his lips once more.
He grabbed your thighs again and tugged you closer to the edge of the counter, “This okay?”
“Yeah.” you slung both your arms around his shoulders, leaving one hand in his hair and the other grasping onto the back of his shirt.
“You want this?” he asked breathily.
“You have no idea.”
The two of you shared faint laughter that was swallowed up by a few more sloppy lustful kisses before George was breaking away from you long enough to look down between you so he could angle the head of his cock against your slick cunt. You shuttered slightly in anticipation, clinging onto the back of his shirt as you breathed him in greedily with your nose pressed against his cheek.
George pushed inside you slowly and once that aching stretch came to spread across your hips, your eyes met closely as your mouth fell open with a soft gasp. His eyes darted across your face before his lips were capturing yours in a sensual kiss and he slid deeper inside you with his hands grabbing at your doughy hips, sinking himself into your body. The wavering breath he let out into your mouth was laced so perfectly with the faintest moan and you felt it right through your body, making your muscles flutter around him.
“Holy shit.” George slid a hand around the back of neck, his fingers nestled in the roots of your hair, and he pulled your lips harder onto his with an underlying sense of urgency that burned hot over your skin. And, as he did, he started to thrust into you hungrily, sharing in your whimpering moan that blessed your kiss.
“Fuck.” you choked out, your grip tightening on the fabric of his shirt as if to pull him impossibly closer.
Your kisses were messy from the quick aggression with which he fucked you on your kitchen counter but you kept at it like you never wanted to stop, unable to get enough of each other and the addictive drug of sin that joined you together. When even what he gave you didn’t feel sufficient enough, you pressed your heels into the flesh of his ass to try and get him to give you more, whining desperately against his tongue-led kisses. He stopped completely, nestled as deep inside you as he could fit, and your head dropped back against the upper cabinets behind you with a warm moan at the glorious fullness he offered you. George grabbed your ass and pulled your body right up against his so he could lift you up off the counter and into his arms.
You gasped in surprise but clung onto him tightly, trusting him entirely to do whatever he pleased, and your hands splayed across his back over the thin material of his shirt to feel the way his toned back flexed as he held your body weight. He carried you through the adjacent doorway into the dining room and through the spacious archway into the front living room, the afternoon sun streaking in through the large picture window at the front of the house. The carpet was soft beneath his feet and hid his footsteps as he blindly navigated his way to the couch, still taken up by your lips that kissed him like he was more important than air. George sat himself down heavily on the couch with you perched perfectly on his lap, his dick still tucked warmly inside you.
“Mm, my God.” you withered, driven by humanistic lust, and you were right away starting to bounce on his lap.
“Holy fuck, you’re sexy.” George groaned, slumping back comfortably on your couch that had been a wedding gift to you and your husband. He stared up at you with dilated blue eyes and he licked his lips at the sight, his large hands on your hips following your eager motions. But despite the obvious intent you held, he still reminded you politely, “You tell me if it’s too much.”
“It’s not.” you insisted strongly, grounding your hands flat against his chest so he was held down on the couch and you had the leverage to ride him harder. You had wanted that for what felt like weeks now and even though you had initially wanted it from your husband, you couldn’t be completely blamed for finding it elsewhere.
“Oh my God, look at you.” he breathed in near awe, “You want it so bad.”
You couldn’t bite back the sly smile that pricked at the corner of your mouth even if you scrunched your eyes shut and tilted your head back in some effort to keep him from seeing the effect he had on you. Your skin clapped lewly against his thighs with every bounce, tainting your marital home each and every time. The feeling of his hand around your throat startled you slightly.
“This okay?” he asked.
“Fuck, yeah.” you stumbled out.
That wasn’t new either and you had your fair share of more kinky interactions with your husband before he was your husband and before parental responsibilities and careers started to diminish the passion. It had been far too long.
“Harder.” you ordered.
George’s hand squeezed your throat a little tighter, “Better?”
“Mhm.” you withered, still messily bouncing on his lap.
“What do you say?”
His demand took you by surprise but it was invigorating and you looked down at him and his handsome lust filled expression, offering him an angelic, “Thank you.”
“Thank you, sir.” he corrected you smoothly.
You nearly choked over your breath and the obvious reaction to that simple demand had Georges smirking proudly under you as you tried to keep riding him on your couch.
His hand tightened around your neck a little more, ordering you strongly, although his voice could never get rid of the undertones of gentleness, “Say it.”
“Thank you, sir.” you exhaled.
“Good girl. You’re doing such a good fucking job.”
“You feel so fucking good inside me.” you whimpered. “I don’t wanna stop.”
“Don’t. Keep going until you make yourself cum.”
A soft chuckle left your lips as you confessed, “I can’t cum like this.”
“No?” George tugged at your neck to urge you down on top of him so you were chest to chest and he could kiss you.
You took that opportunity to rut yourself against him greedily, rocking your hips back and forth on his lap with your clit rubbing faintly against his pelvis just enough to get a little huff out of you against his lips. George let go of your throat to take two handfuls of your ass instead and he guided you into stronger motions against his body, keeping you on his cock even as you used his body to stimulate your aching clit. Your fingers fisted the front of his shirt tightly, moaning into his mouth while his tongue pushed insistently against yours until you were falling breathless.
When he slid his hands up your back, you tried to keep yourself going the way he had started for you but it wasn’t the same. Before you could beg for him to help you again, he was swallowing you up in his arms and smoothly sliding one of his legs under him so he could flip you over and drop you both lengthwise across the living room couch with him rightfully on top of you.
“Fuck.” you squeaked, throwing your arms around his shoulders just as he started thrusting into you roughly, forcing your head back against the arm of the couch with a choked, “Sh-Shit!”
“Better?” George taunted against your cheek.
“Yes, sir.” you whimpered.
His chuckle was low and warm and your toes curled at the sound, legs wrapping around his waist to keep him close. But he would never dream of stopping, not when he had you where he had dreamt of having you for as long as you had imagined the same about him.
What had started as a somewhat cautious rendezvous had quickly moulded into a carnally lustful hookup, entirely trusting of each other, and he wasn’t holding back as he fucked you on your couch harder than you had been in a while. You couldn’t even manage to form words as you stared up at him above you with your mouth agape and your eyebrows furrowed with intense pleasure, stupid little moans tumbling freely from your throat as language abandoned you. His icy stare was steamy hot and you refused to look away for even a second, raking your nails across the back of his t-shirt until the fabric was definitely being creased and wrinkled.
“Want me to make you cum, sweetheart?”
His voice was ethereal and you could have finished from that sentence alone, the pet name causing your swollen cunt to tighten around him for a moment.
“Use your words.” George teased.
“Please,” you forced out, “sir.”
“Can you cum like this?” he asked softly.
You nodded quickly, already feeling the seeds of an impending orgasm blossoming inside you, “Yeah.”
“Yeah?” George chuckled, nudging his knees across the floral couch cushion to be a bit closer to you, keeping his thrusts so perfectly deep, and when he sat back from you just enough to get his hand around your throat again, he was at the perfect angle to hit your g-spot dead on. When you took in a sharp breath at the quick rising pleasure from his minor adjustment, he smirked down at you, “You needed it that bad, huh? Already gonna cum for me?”
“Yes, sir.” you repeated dumbly up to him, swimming in a euphoric haze, “Please don’t stop.”
“No way, baby.” he promised, keeping your unwavering eye contact, “Wanna feel you cum all over my fucking cock.”
“Please.” you breathed, face scrunching up from the intense sensations. “Please-“
George was on the same wavelength as he was blessed with the glorious feeling of your body, already feeling himself falling into his own rising pleasure. His hand that wasn’t taken to your throat was gripping the arm of the couch beside your head and with every thrust, his hair was falling farther over his forehead on beautiful messy waves. You wanted to kiss him again but you wanted him to make you cum more, so you didn’t dare move him from his positioning, taking the view gladly instead as your attention was all on him and your fingers stayed locked around the fabric of his shirt.
“Fuck, that’s a good girl, I can feel you tightening up already.” George spoke down to you, his voice so rich and heavenly you swore it made you dizzy.
“I’m gonna cum.” you whimpered loudly, head lifting from the arm of the couch so you could peer down your body and watch how he fucked you, the sight of his dick disappearing inside you before pulling back out almost all the way covered in your glistening wetness in rapid succession only making your impending orgasm feel stronger and stronger. You were almost sure you were going to rip his shirt right off him as you squeaked out, “Fuck, fuck fuck, right there, right there-“
“Uh huh?” George’s jaw clenched as he tried to hold himself back for the sake of you as the priority. You had to finish first.
The moment that the first wave of pleasure hit you, your entire body shuttered and your head tossed back against the arm of the couch with a silent gape to the ceiling, eyes screwed shut. Then it was all let out with the most beautiful trembling moan George had ever heard and you filled your silent house with the sounds of your euphoria and the praise of his name, painting the walls in sin. You hadn’t cum that hard in a while to the point where you almost blacked out from the strength of it and your body wrapped itself around George to yank him down on top of you for something to hold onto.
That just made it even more impossible for him to stop as he kept fucking you right through it, groaning loudly against your cheek as he fought against your vice-like grip around his aching cock. He was getting sloppy with it, losing himself in the warm wet heaven of your pussy and the lewd sound it filled the living room with. Your ankles linked behind his back and pulled him in deeper, gasping and whimpering in sensitivity that you pushed aside to bask in the glorious and reliving pleasure he brought you.
“I…” George choked out, dipping his face into your neck as you held each other tightly, “I’m gonna fucking cum.”
“Gimme it.” you pleaded. “Please, sir.”
Forward thinking was not your priority in that moment as all you craved was for him to claim you completely, filthily, beautifully. For all you cared, this could have just been one perfectly intense dream and you wanted to make the absolute most of it.
With a few more thrusts, George was shoving hard into you once more and as his dick throbbed inside you, he came strongly, spurting thickly as deep as he could reach. Your mouth fell open at the feeling and one hand flew to his hair to tangle in the soft strands and hold his face in your neck as he moaned heavenly against your flushed skin. He ground into you greedily, giving you everything he had and it made your mouth water, your head tilting back to stare up at the living room ceiling with a mouthed ‘oh my God’.
“Fuck.” George huffed, gently allowing his body weight to rest on top of you completely.
You welcomed him gladly and enveloped him in your embrace and even kissed his head and his faint breathy chuckle at your action had you smiling. The pleasure hormones swirled around your mind and body and before they could fade away, George was sliding his hand over your cheek and guiding your lips to his for a slow, sensual, breathless kiss.
The two of you made out like that on the couch for a few minutes, what was once such a rush now dimmed down to lazy yet purely passionate kisses in the silence of your marital home. He was still tucked inside you and feeling his body so close with yours was addicting. Your fingers scratched through the back of his hair and he broke your kiss to rest his head against your collarbones.
“I needed that so fucking bad, oh my God.” George sighed.
“Me too.” you confessed lightly.
“It’s been way too long.”
“Tell me about it.”
There was a moment of silence as the reality of your situation settled on your minds.
“We really did that.” you exhaled.
“Yeah.” George sighed.
“Do you regret it?”
George lifted his head from your shoulder to look at you properly, “Do you?”
“I asked you first.”
A faint smile pricked at the corner of his mouth and he answered with a soft, “No.”
You trailed your hand out of his hair and down the side of his neck to guide him in for a chasté kiss, “Me neither.”
George gave you one more kiss before he was carefully sitting back from you, “Our tea is probably cold.”
You giggled softly, “Probably.”
“Want me to get you your clothes?”
“Please.”
He carefully pulled out and you let your hand take his place, staying on your back to keep from leaking out onto the couch, and he disappeared back into the kitchen. For the few seconds he was gone, you stared wide-eyed out the front window to the tree-lined street, the heavy side of reality settling onto your consciousness. If you had felt guilty about your thoughts the last weeks, then this was unimaginable. You committed arguably the ultimate sin in marriage - how would you ever come back from this?
“Here you go.”
George held out your underwear to you first and you glanced up at him - now fully dressed himself - and you took them from him with a soft thanks. He helped you up from the couch and you hurried to shimmy your clothes on while he watched you.
“This should be a one time thing, right?” you said after a moment.
“Yeah.” you smiled faintly, thankful that he understood.
You could see him hesitate for a moment before he was taking your hand and leaning in to kiss you again. Despite the events that had just happened, the move made you a little shy and you pulled away a second later with a bashful smile to the ground. His thumb brushed over your skin lazily and as you stood together in your living room face to face in the afternoon sun, you felt drawn into him to steal another gentle kiss from his plush lips. Without sharing a word or any additional touch, you kissed softly, innocently, for a few long seconds before breaking away from each other again. You licked your lips that tasted like him and he noticed with a fond smile.
“The school bus should be here soon.” he said.
“Mhm.” you hummed, only half paying attention as your gaze was transfixed by his swollen lips.
“We can walk together if you want.”
“Mhm.”
There was another momentary silence between you and George’s faint bite to his bottom lip had your eyebrows naturally peaking for a split second. He could read your face like it was the front page of the morning paper.
“This isn’t going to be a one time thing, is it?”
You shook your head and took the half step closer to him as you leaned in for another tender kiss.
He was everywhere in your house now. Everywhere you looked it was tainted with George and you were worried that it showed all over your face. The kitchen...the living room…everywhere you looked. That very same night you stood in the kitchen preparing dinner while Richard watched TV in the family room and you tried not to think about the memories that the counter behind you held or pay attention to the constant leak that dampened your panties under your jeans. Andrew would be home in no time and you had only that long to compose yourself enough to face him like nothing was wrong.
The phone on the kitchen wall rang loudly, startling you dramatically and your head whipped around to it. You set the knife down on the cutting board and wiped your hands on your apron as you made your way over to it. Without thinking twice, you answered it with a casual, “Hello?”
“Hey, my love. It’s me.”
Your grip tightened on the receiver at your husband’s voice and you cleared your throat before answering, “Hi, Andy. What’s going on?”
“I just heard news that the boss wants me to come out for dinner with a potential client tonight so I won’t be home until a bit later. Nothing crazy but we’re hoping to get them onboard with this pitch and apparently bottomless wine is the way to do it.” his soft chuckle acted as a way to cover up his disappointment - you knew that well after your few years together.
“Oh. Okay.” you looked to the ground, silently grateful you wouldn’t have to face him until later.
“I’m really sorry, sugar.” Andrew said softly through the phone, “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”
“No, no. That’s okay. Do what you gotta do.” you pulled the most chipper voice you could.
“I’ll make you proud.”
You slouched your shoulder against the wall, “You always do, Andy.”
“Tell Ritchie I say hello and I love him. I won’t be back before his bedtime.”
“Of course. Be safe, okay?”
“I will. I love you.”
You nibbled your bottom lip for a half second before answering through the guilt that burned within you, “I love you too, honey.”
It was almost 11pm when you heard the front door open. Richard had long been put to bed - although not without asking for Andrew a half dozen times and trying to stall bedtime so he could see him before he slept - and even you had retired to bed yourself. With a book in hand, you were in your nightgown on your side of the bed in the warm light of your bedside lamp, trying to look as nonchalant as possible for when your husband would return home. He didn’t need to know a single thing and especially not how often you had been thinking of how George’s night was going since you had parted that afternoon.
Each quiet footstep on the stairs had your heart racing but you had all evening to calm yourself so you had belief that you were definitely able to play it cool. So, when the bedroom door opened and Andrew stepped inside in his black work slacks and pale blue button up, you offered him a loving smile. He closed the door behind him again so as to not wake your son and it was then that you noticed the small bouquet of flowers in his hand. Your smile faltered for a moment, feeling an uncomfortable weight settling in your chest.
Andrew just kept his warm grin and he walked over to your bedside to lean down to greet you with a kiss and the flowers, “Happy anniversary, sugar.”
You didn’t know what to say for a moment, using all your willpower to keep the smile on your face despite the fact that you completely forgot it had been your wedding anniversary of all days. But you closed your book and set it on your bedside table, “Aw, thank you, my love.”
“I’m really sorry I missed most of the day.” Andrew said, leaning down to kiss your cheek.
“That’s okay.” you brushed it off easily since you did much worse that day, “You’re here now.”
“Finally.” Andrew took the flowers across the room and set them on the dresser still in their cellophane so he could get ready for bed. “And it’s Friday, thank God.”
You watched him loosen his tie and then slide it off from around his neck and he dropped it on the dresser before starting to unbutton his shirt.
You tried to keep casual conversation, “How was the dinner?”
“It went really well actually.” Andrew said, “Got them on board and they will be signed with us on Monday.”
“That’s great! Although I didn’t have any doubts; you’re their best guy anyway.”
“You flatter me,” Andrew glanced over at you with a sweet smile as he walked across the room and draped his shirt over the back of the armchair. He then unbuckled his belt before it, too, was joining the forming pile on the chair and he dropped his slacks, “But now I don’t want to think about work because it’s now the weekend and it’s our anniversary and all my attention is yours. I told you I’d make today up to you.”
“That’s okay.” you assured him softly. “I’m not upset.”
“I am.” he protested gently and your eyes followed him back across the room and around to his side of the bed. He pushed back the sheets and climbed in beside you in only his underwear, telling you honestly, “I’ve felt so badly saying no to you so much the last little while.”
“It’s really okay, honey.” you promised, lolling your head to the side to look at him.
“Nope, not accepting that.” he tapped your nose, “I can tell I was doing nothing but disappointing you and I don’t like doing that. Not that we need an excuse but I think our anniversary is the best time to get back at it, you reckon?”
You didn’t realize how hard you were biting your bottom lip until the pad of his thumb gently swiped over it to get you to let go and then he slid his hand around the side of your face and guided you in for a soft kiss. You tried to push the guilty thoughts to the back of your mind and focus on your kind-hearted husband at your side who, even after an insanely long work day, still wanted to give you what you wanted. There was no doubt in your mind that you were still in love with him, but you kept your new secret locked away in order to prevent hurting the man you loved.
Andrew was obviously clueless to your internal affairs and his kisses were just as passionate as ever, still managing to erupt butterflies in your stomach with every lingering lock of your lips. Your fingers wrapped around his wrist of the hand that cradled your face and the fact that he didn’t have an ounce of suspicion from the taste of your lips that had kissed another man made you sure that you could have your cake and eat it too. It was almost thrilling.
Your husband broke your kiss and reached under the sheets to tug at the hem of your nightgown, “Wanna take this off for me?”
You gladly pulled it over your head and tossed it to the carpeted floor beside the bed and he moved in again to kiss your neck while his hand trailed down your naked body and traced the shape of your breasts and the peak of one of your nipples. He definitely knew where to touch you and that was never a question, proven by the way your eyes fluttered shut when his lips grazed just the right spot under your ear and his tongue against your skin pulled shivers down your spine.
You took the initiative to shuffle yourself on the mattress so you could lay yourself down properly against your pillow and Andrew was following after you gladly, laying half on top of you with his forearm holding him up at your side. Your hands guided his lips back to yours and you shared deepening kisses in the warmth of your shared bedroom. With your fingers tangled in the back of his short brown hair, you shared the responsibility of guiding your kisses until his tongue was nudging against yours. Opening up for him was easy but there was that tiny worry in the back of your mind wondering if somehow he could tell who else you had been kissing in his absence.
In reality, Andrew was perfectly clueless, and he trailed his hand down your bare body and under the sheets and right over the front of your panties. You hummed pleasantly into his kiss and spread your legs a little more for him, urging his hand to rub strongly across your clothed pussy. After a few seconds, he was pulling away from your lips with a faint smile at the corner of his mouth and you met his gaze with your teeth sinking into your bottom lip.
“Oh my God,” Andrew chuckled breathily, his hand still helping itself between your legs, “You’re so wet.”
You could only offer him a soft giggle that he kissed away greedily.
“I’ve kept you waiting that long, hm?” he teased against your mouth.
You could only manage a faint nod into his kisses.
He didn’t need to know that most of that wetness he was feeling was thanks to your neighbour.
Andrew pulled away from your lips for a moment so he could focus on shoving down your underwear under the blankets and you blindly helped to kick them off to get lost under the sheets. Once his fingers found your cunt again, you were pulling his lips back on yours by the back of his neck, silently praying he couldn’t feel the remnants of George’s cum still leaking out of you. But he was blissfully unaware as he touched you like that, fingers rubbing at your clit and then sliding between your glistening folds and back up, his lips pulling hungry kisses from your own.
When he finally pulled away from your lips, you followed his lead to hold up the sheets to let him shuffle himself underneath them, sharing soft laughter at the ungraceful nature of it as he got himself between your legs. You let the bed sheets fall overtop of him and you adjusted your pillow under your head with a nervous lick to your lips as you stared up at the ceiling. You were sure there was no way he could know - it had been all afternoon and evening after all - but a part of you couldn’t help but feel nervous.
The first touch of his tongue against your pussy had your eyelids fluttering and your breath shuttering in your chest. He nudged your legs open wider and his hands wrapped around your thighs, holding you open for his mouth and the gentle caresses of his tongue. Your eyes bore into the ceiling, focusing on the touches of your husband beneath your bedsheets, shamefully thinking back to that afternoon when George had you up on your kitchen counter and ate your pussy like it was his last meal. Andrew’s lazy and gentle strokes weren’t bad, just…different. Familiar. Expected.
He moved as if he were cleaning you up rather than aiming to make you messier and although it felt good, it still fell short. You shut your eyes and tried to focus on it a little more, offering a soft hum to the dimly lit bedroom as your fingers grasped the pillow you were lying on. You exhaled to the ceiling, trying to relax yourself into the mattress without thinking too hard about the fact that your husband was pretty much eating another man’s cum out of you at that very moment.
After only a few more seconds, Andrew pressed a sloppy wet kiss to your clit and then started to move back. Eyes snapping open, you set your hand on top of his head over the sheets, holding him in place as you requested quietly, “Can you put your fingers in me too?”
“Sure.” he chuckled faintly, words muffled by the sheets and duvet.
You felt him glide his fingers across your slick pussy and then he was sinking two inside you slowly, right down to the knuckle. His tongue followed again and he lapped at your clit while his fingers pushed strongly inside you all the way and back out in slow thrusts.
“Yeah,” you breathed, keeping your hand on the back of his head, “Faster.”
He followed your demand with fingers and tongue, ravishing you a little faster until his jaw was starting to ache and his hand was cramping up from those quick thrusts. Andrew hummed flatly against you and slowed himself down after a few seconds and before he could stop completely, you were squirming slightly underneath him.
“Can you only go, like, halfway with your fingers?” you requested quietly.
There was a pause and then movement as he shuffled his way out of the sheets to let them fall to the end of the bed, exposing your naked body to the air conditioned bedroom. He caressed your hip gently with a quiet, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” you replied almost too fast, “Why?”
“It’s just…you’ve never had to tell me what to do before. I always usually make you cum.”
“I know, I know.” you assured him quickly, wracking your brain for an excuse, “Was just wanting to try new things.”
Andrew smiled faintly at you and nodded, “Okay.”
You returned his soft smile and he leaned down to kiss your lips, once, twice, and a third time before he was sitting back on his knees and shuffling out of his underwear. You tried to hide your disappointment that he wasn’t going to go down on you some more behind a tightlipped smile as he met your gaze and pulled the sheets up around you both again. Habitually, your legs went around his thighs as he situated himself on top of you and his lips locked with yours again in slow sensual kisses, tangling together as husband and wife in your shared bed like how it was supposed to be.
“Ready?” he asked softly.
“Mhm.” you slid your hands up his back and scratched your fingers across his shoulder blades lightly as he got himself situated.
The head of his cock nudged against your dripping pussy and your muscles fluttered at the sensation, naturally waiting for him to finally push inside you. And, when he did, his eyes stayed focused on yours without breaking away for even a second, watching your expression as he filled you completely. Your hands rested on his back as you stared right back at his face, taking in his dark and handsome features that you loved so dearly, and yet part of you was already missing George’s blue eyed gaze.
The flicker of a guilty wince across your expression was covered with ease by the first thrust from your husband as he started to make love to you properly. He kissed your lips sweetly, sharing single little fleeting kisses and soft breaths as you tangled under the sheets together. His thrusts were slow and deep and so incredibly loving, something that had been so comforting over the recent few years together. Something you didn’t realize mattered much. Not until George came over that afternoon and shook your very knowledge of reality and pleasure to its core.
Andrew broke away from your kiss to tuck his face into your neck and your arms wrapped entirely around his back to hold him on top of you, whimpering softly against his shoulder as he took you over like that. Your eyes scrunched shut and you desperately tried to stay in the moment, clinging onto your husband’s beautiful caramel skin and the scent of his office that lingered on him; copy ink and paper. His warm breaths fell against your neck in gentle pants in time with his precise thrusts, your bed squeaking faintly beneath you.
But your mind was straying again, drifting to the house next door and the man who had his way with you that afternoon; the one who somehow made you see stars for the first time in years. That used to be you and Andrew or so you recalled as the memories faded with time, but now it was all so fresh with George and you were drunk on the newfound adrenaline of it all. You tried to hush your mind from begging you to do it again and again and again with the man who had his own wife and his own family and who wasn’t legally bound to you in any way.
Just because you couldn’t have him didn’t mean you couldn’t think of him. With your eyes closed tightly and your husband’s face still tucked warmly in your neck as he made love to you gently into your bed, you shamelessly imagined him to be George instead. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip and your mind swirled with memories from that afternoon and the dirty words that your neighbour spoke to you. You imagined him saying such things to you now, holding you down on your bed, fucking you like you never knew you needed.
As you clung onto your husband, your lips formed the words without thought, mouthing them silently to the ceiling, “Yes, sir.”
George took up your mind until your thoughts were so vivid that you swore you could smell him right there with you, taking the place of your husband. Even Andrew’s soft sounds were that of George and you were buzzing off the fresh memory that burned within you, completely encapsulated by the man that wasn’t yours. You could do nothing else but picture him on top of you instead, mouthing his name to your bedroom ceiling over and over as if speaking to him in your mind.
“That’s it.”
The breathy faint voice that ghosted across your ear tore you from the strength of your imagination but the power that George still held over you kept you going just that little bit longer.
“Holy shit, you’re gonna cum already?” Andrew chuckled against your cheek, “I can fucking feel it.”
“Shh.” you pulled his face back into your neck, playing it off effortlessly that you were too close for casual conversation. That wasn’t entirely a lie because the words that George spoke to you in your memory were certainly bringing you closer by the second, urging your muscles to tighten up around your husband’s dick.
Andrew kept his pace going even as your nails pressed into the muscles of his back and your body fell into pleasure beneath his. Your orgasm certainly wasn’t as strong as the two you had that afternoon but it was still real and it still felt good, regardless of the slight disappointment that filled your guilty conscience.
“Yes.” you squeaked out, tangling your hand in the back of his hair to grip tightly to his soft brunette roots, “Fuck-”
“Oh my God.” Andrew groaned from over top of you, shifting away from you a little to get a better angle with his hands pressed onto the pillow on either side of your head.
Panting softly underneath him, your hands slid down to his biceps and you held onto him as he thrusted into you a little faster, those big brown eyes staring right into your distracted gaze. He was still as beautiful as ever to you and the expression of pleasure that spread across his face was just as breathtaking as the first night you shared together six years earlier. Only seconds later, he was pulling out of you and coming right across your abdomen with the added help of his own hand, offering quiet moans to your bedroom walls as he finished himself off. You watched him closely, tearing your eyes away from his face to glance down between you under the sheets to get a glimpse at the mess he made across your flushed skin.
“Shit.” he huffed and carefully shifted off of you.
You took the sheets from him to hold them up and out of the way as he rolled over to grab a few tissues from the bedside table. He helped to clean you up like the gentleman he was and then you let the blankets fall gracefully over the both of you as he leaned in for a few breathless kisses.
“How was that?” he asked teasingly.
You bit back your smile, “Good.”
“Good?” he laughed lightly, feigning offence, “Just good, huh?”
“You know what I mean.” you swatted his chest playfully.
Andrew tossed the sheets back and swung his legs off the bed, “I’m gonna throw this out. Did you want water or anything?”
“I’m okay.”
He leaned back down towards you for one more kiss, “Okay. Be right back.”
You tucked the sheets up to your chin as you watched him stand up and shuffle his underwear back on before he was patting across the carpeted floor to the ensuite bathroom. When he was out of view, your eyes drifted to the flowers still resting on the dresser across the room and you nibbled at your bottom lip to try and keep the guilt at bay. Then, you looked straight up at the ceiling instead, trying to settle the rapid beating of your heart over the realization that you had to think of another man apart from your husband to get off. That had never happened before.
Andrew’s gentle humming came from the bathroom as he brushed his teeth and finished getting ready for bed and you tried to let the familiarity of his voice soothe you but it didn’t do much. Instead, you just kept wondering what George sounded like when he sang or what music he played when he baked or if he was thinking of you as much as you were thinking of him. How ridiculous. How absolutely teenage of you.
“Alright,” Andrew emerged from the bathroom and joined you in bed once more, “all set.”
You reached over to your bedside table to turn off your lamp before laying beside him again, habitually wrapping yourself up under his arm. He kissed your head and sighed as he settled, holding you close under your shared sheets.
“I love you.” he said through the dark.
You rested your cheek against his shoulder, “I love you too.”
Andrew was drifting quickly after a long day but you were still wide awake, staring blankly across the room to the front windows and their shut curtains. You aimlessly trailed your fingertips over your husband’s chest and the faint dusting of chest hair that grew down between his pecs, wondering to yourself that if Andrew still felt like home to you, why did your mind crave to be elsewhere. Mostly, you tried not to think of George.
When your childhood best friend Alex Albon's birthday rolls around, anything goes for a successful evening. But you never imagined it would go this way when you refused to join the birthday party. An impromptu text that puts you in the spotlight once again.
Pairing: Lando Norris x Engineer!Reader
Genre: Fluff/Humor
Summary: Lando had a master plan to get you in his bed. Too bad everyone seems to mess it up. And who knew you were terrified of bed bugs?
this was so much fun to write and I'm so excited for this mini series! New upload schedule will probably be Reputations on Friday and Reverse Tropes on Saturday!
TAG LIST CLOSED
Your hand gripped your suitcase as you stood in the lobby of the hotel. Of course, McLaren thought that it would be a good idea for some more team bonding before the season started and book an entire hotel. However, they forgot to mention that some of the people had to share rooms.
How you got placed with Lando, you didn’t know. You had seen Oscar snickering earlier when Zac had read the list of who shared what room. Your face was beat red as you tried to hide in your team zip up. Your eyes flickered to Lando, only to find him fast asleep against the window of the bus. There was some drool on his lip, and anyone else would have found that semi-disgusting.
But not you.
It was kind of…endearing.
But now that you were getting your key card and were in the elevator with a very sleepy Lando, your heartrate increased. You had tried to get your own room when you had gotten there, but Zac was intent with you sharing.
Something about driver and engineer comradery.
The floor before when Oscar got off, he had leaned over and whispered, “Have fun with the one bed.”
That statement made your face even redder. Of course that would happen to you. It was straight out of Tumblr or Wattpad. The one trope that you seemed to hate over everything. One bed normally meant that it was a single or a queen. And you were known for flopping everywhere.
Poor Lando probably wouldn’t get to sleep before the first rounds of development.
Although he was sleepy, Lando, on the other hand, was vibrating with excitement.
He had the whole thing planned out. He had requested to be put in a room with you. And then he swapped rooms with Oscar, because the Aussie had a girlfriend, ergo he had a single bed room. It was going to be perfect. Oscar would get the room with two beds, and Lando would just have to share a bed with you.
The Briton had had heart eyes for you ever since you joined his rookie season in 2019. And when you had been promoted to his race engineer, the crush he had grew tenfold. He could see your face getting more red the longer it took to get to the room.
“You ready?” he asked you before he used his card to unlock the door.
“Let’s get this over with,” you muttered, just wanting to sleep. At this point, you were planning to go to bed right away so that you didn’t have to deal with Lando crawling into bed behind you. You’d be asleep at that point, giving yourself no time to ogle at his chest (if he slept with a shirt off as most guys did.)
The click of the lock indicated that the door could be opened and Lando took the initiative. This was it.
Lando was going to live his dream.
Except, his heart dropped when he noticed that there wasn’t one bed.
There wasn’t even two beds.
The room had three beds.
What. the. actual. fu....
Lando was going to kill whoever messed this up. His heart dropped farther when he saw your eyes kind of light up at the sight of beds to choose from. The McLaren driver bit his lip as he assessed the problem.
You missed Lando’s agitation and put your things on the bed by the window. You turned to Lando, now confused at his pinched eyebrows.
“Did you want the one by the window?” you asked, suddenly mad at yourself for just going ahead without asking the driver his preference.
Lando immediately shook his head. “I like sleeping by the bathroom.”
You gave him a smile. “Ok. Can I shower real fast? I go to sleep a little early.”
That was a lie. You just didn’t want to be awake when Lando went to bed. Who knows what you’d be staring at. Your mind immediately went to the abs and v-line. You shook your head, trying to rid yourself of the unholy thoughts.
You quickly opened your suitcase, grabbed your pajamas, and disappeared behind the bathroom door.
Once Lando was sure that you wouldn’t come out, he quickly pulled out his phone and texted Oscar. It was to his horror that Oscar had sent a picture of the singular king that was supposed to hold you and Lando in tonight.
Except that now it would be for Oscar and Oscar only.
The Briton wanted to rip his hair out. He started pacing before he knew it.
How could he fix this?
He could lie and say he had separation anxiety and needed to sleep with someone. But you’d see right through and ask who else he’d shared a bed with.
He could spill a drink on your bed? That also wouldn’t work because then you’d question why he had a drink around your things while you were in the shower. Lando didn’t want to come off as a giant creep.
He was still pacing when he heard the door open up.
His body turned to face you, but he immediately averted his eyes. Not because you were undressed, but because your pajamas were the cutest thing on you. You were wearing one of those silk tank tops with the smallest shorts possible.
Lando watched as your feet got closer to your bed. His thoughts were flying around at 100 miles an hour. He had to do something quickly. Your hand pulled back the bedding when Lando yelled.
“Hold on. I think I saw some bugs on my bed and yours.”
The screech that you let out made Lando wince. You reeled back as though the duvet had burnt you. You quickly made your way closer to Lando.
“Where are the bed bugs?”
Lando couldn’t really tell, but he thinks he can hear your teeth chattering. You were getting antsy.
“Are you that scared of some small bugs?”
You crept closer to Lando.
“My childhood house got infected and we had to move. I also got such a bad infection from bites.”
Lando immediately felt terrible. He didn’t know. If he had, he wouldn’t have said anything and just sucked it up and slept in his own bed. He looked at you. He could see that you were close to tears. His arm immediately went around your shoulders and brought you closer.
You huffed. “Can we go down to see if they have any other rooms on our floor?”
The brunet nodded. He looked you up and down before he turned around and dug through his suitcase. You wondered what he was doing before a hoodie hit your chest. It was the dark green one that you absolutely loved on him. You gave him a confused look.
“Ah, your pajamas.”
Oh.
You looked down and realized that you were just in a very thin tank.
Without a bra.
And the room was cold.
Your face flushed as you quickly pulled the hoodie over your head. The ends of the hoodie landed mid-thigh. You knew Lando was taller than you, but you didn’t expect his hoodie to fall that far down.
Lando couldn’t take his eyes off you and you giggled and did a little spin, showing off how the green material looked on you.
You were so worried that you’d have a staring problem, that you completely missed Lando’s staring problems.
Once you were done, you headed to the doorway, Lando hot on your feet. He should have felt guilty about lying, but you were in his clothes and that made every feeling go away. The elevator ride was quiet, but comforting instead of awkward. The ding of the machine signaled that you two made it to the ground floor.
Lando stepped out first, followed by you. Before you got to the front desk, Lando pulled the back of the hoodie, making you halt. You gave him a confused look. He dug his wallet out of his back pocket and handed you his card.
“I know you’re a bit scared of the bugs, so I’ll handle it. You want to get us some snacks?”
Lando melted at your eyes lighting up as you nodded. You wordlessly took his card and spun around, now walking in the direction of the little shop. He knew that you were always picky with snacks, so he’d have a bit of time.
He exhaled heavily as he walked up to the front desk. The receptionist cocked an eyebrow, probably not expecting anyone at this late hour.
His hands rested on the counter.
“So, me and a friend are staying in room 444, and I might have seen a few bed bugs on one of the beds.”
Lando winced as he lied. The lady’s eyes widened and she started typing.
“Ok, we’ll have someone come up and inspect it with one of our bug-dogs.”
Another wince. “Is that really necessary? Can we just move rooms?”
Some more typing. “I don’t think that’s possible sir. We have to inspect the room just in case. If it’s all clear, then the room will still be able to be slept in.”
Lando looked around before leaning in slightly.
“Ok, here’s the deal. I’m in love with the friend that I’m staying with. We were supposed to have a room with a single bed so I could make a move. But something happened and we got placed in a room with three beds instead of one. I panicked and lied about the bugs. Is there any way I can just switch rooms? I'll pay extra.”
Lando had hope in his eyes as he heard more typing.
“I’m sorry sir, but there aren’t any more rooms available for tonight. You’ll have to stay in the room you have.”
He hung his head as he nodded.
“Sorry for the inconvenience,” he muttered. When he turned around, he was met with you holding multiple snacks and some drinks. He hoped that you hadn’t heard anything. Thankfully, you didn’t mention his conversation.
As you walked into the elevator you asked, “So do we get to move rooms?”
Lando sighed. “There aren’t any available.”
You chewed on your lip. “Maybe, we can look at the middle bed and see if there are any there?”
He could kiss you right then and there. Lando went quiet for a minute.
“Only if that’s ok with you?”
You immediately nodded.
“I just don’t want any bugs on me. I think you’ll be able to keep me safe.”
The attempt at the wink that followed made Lando laugh as he got off the elevator. You couldn’t help but giggle as you followed him. Lando thought it was the cutest thing he ever heard. When you stepped into the room, you first headed to your luggage to pull it off the “bug infested” bed.
You placed it high on one of the dressers. Lando followed in suit.
Before you knew it, you and Lando were both under the covers of the middle bed after a full inspection that it was safe.
Lando was a bit skeptical that you hadn’t pushed to inspect the bed you were supposed to sleep in. Part of him wanted to believe that you also wanted to share a bed. But he wouldn’t dwell on the thought.
The snacks that you bought were quickly consumed, laughter shared between the two of you as you watched videos on Lando’s phone. You didn’t know exactly when it happened, but your head had started to rest on his shoulder. Lando took this opportunity to put his arm around the back of your neck.
Lando remained oblivious and was sure that this plan was working. You were scared and found sanctuary in his arms.
Except for the fact that you had overheard everything. Your phone was currently buzzing with messages from Oscar but you’d never let Lando know that.
Well.
You sighed as you unattached yourself from Lando’s side. You turned your face so that you could look into his eyes.
Half the time, you didn’t even know what color they were. Some days they were the brightest blue, others they looked more green, and the in the shade they were brown.
You smirked as you got closer.
“So, what did you tell the lady about getting me into your bed hm?”
You watched as a blush invaded Lando’s face before he put his hands over his face. Tik Tok was abandoned on the bedsheets below.
“I’m so sorry,” he muttered. You brought your hands up and peeled his own away from his face. Lando’s eyes flickered as he looked for some type of malice on your face. However, he only saw a smirk and a fiery look. He inhaled sharply.
“I have had a major crush on you since 2019. And when Zac said he’d be pairing people up, I begged him to get a room with one bed for us. We were supposed to switch with Oscar and this room was supposed to only have one bed. But, I guess Zac took it upon himself to already do it so I wouldn’t have to switch, but we did anyway.”
“Lando, I know. You think Oscar could keep a secret for that long?”
The brunet paused, blinked, stared at you, and blinked again.
“I’m going to kill Oscar.”
You giggled, making Lando melt once again.
“You’re not going to kill Oscar.”
A grumble escaped his lips as they turned into a pout. You took this moment to lean down and lightly peck them.
Once again, Lando froze.
“So, should we actually get some sleep?”
He could only nod his head, still not comprehending that you had actually kissed him and his plan worked semi-well.
You turned around and rested your head on the pillow. Just a few moments later, Lando’s arm found a home in the crook of your waist. He gently pulled, bringing your back closer to his chest.
So maybe he didn’t actually sleep shirtless, but that was fine because his head dug into your neck, just at your hairline. Lando breathed in deeply, getting situated.
Maybe the one bed trope did work.
You felt him smirk against your neck, but you thought he was close to sleep.
Until he spoke up.
“Sleep tight Y/n. Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”
“I’m going to murder you instead.”
y/n_l/n has posted
y/n_l/n I let the love bug bite 🐞 🌲
liked by mclaren, lando_norizz, papayaduo, oscarpiastri, and 104,948 others
y/nxlando UHHH HARD LAUNCH??
papaya.nation I knew that sweatshirt looked familiar when they walked in the paddock today!
landonorris4 the fact that he had a back up hoodie as well
formulala_delulu the couple who matches together - stays together 💚
oscarpiastri good to see that it all worked out in the end 😌
y/n_l/n let's not do that again, ok?
landonorris I thought you liked it tho 😙
y/n_l/n let it be know, you don't possess any rizz
oscarpiastri 🫵😂
loscar I need to know the lore behind this
norris4ever maybe he'll get a win now that he doesn't have to pine after y/n
in motion /// oscar piastri x reader /// a college hockey x f1 au
Oscar’s a certified hockey prodigy, and the new kid on the block. You’re the adopted best friend of his new hockey team. You take it upon yourself to make him feel welcome. What could possibly go wrong?
all chapter titles (and fic title) from various songs from ‘when facing the things we turn away from’ by Luke Hemmings
drop an ask or a message to be added to the taglist!
Chapters
1. Starting Line: moving in, family dinner, and the first game of the season.
2. Change Of Heart: Max Verstappen’s Pizza Theory, breakfast for dinner, and an attempt at a passing grade in physics
3. Losing The Dream: a walk in near the park, a surprising team photo, and the semester comes to a close.
Winter Break: A social media au/ blurb bonus part!
4. Baby Blue: a very bad snowstorm, bears in the ice hockey arena, and a one night only poster board pick-me-up.
5. Take Bloom: one plane ride, a little sunburn, and far too many margaritas to count.
Warnings: lance is an uncle!! (chloe and scotty have a kid in this lmao), he's got some rizz as the kids say, sweetness all around, frantic lance for a moment there.
Word Count: 537
Author's Note: sorry for the wait, these have been all over the place lately lmao
--
Uncle Lance promised his nephew a toy train and when he remembers, he scrabbles last minute to find something.
Toy stores are a popular place all season around but especially during the holidays.
Seeing that you are one of the only toy stores in town, you tend to work longer hours than most. It was nearly 10 and you were just about to lock the doors, making sure to put the last set of boxes on the shelf.
The bell rings above the door, you groan internally as you step out of the aisle. There's a man, fluffy brown hair on his head, he brushes the snow out of his hair as he looks around, the panic on his face was evident.
"Sir, we're closed," you tell him, glancing at your watch just to make sure of the time. "It's 10:06, we closed 6 minutes ago."
"Please," he huffs, passing a hand through his thick hair. "I won't take much of your time, just let me grab one thing."
You sigh, not having the heart to kick the man out. "Is there something in particular that you're looking for?"
"Uh," he starts, feeling a bit bad that he rushed in, despite you being closed, and still not having a clue what he was gonna get. "I'm not sure."
"Who are you buying a gift for?"
"My nephew."
"How old is he?"
"3," the man smiles and you nod. "Well, from my experience, most boys that are three tend to leant towards superheroes or trains."
The man's eyes light up, "trains! He loves trains!"
You nod, smiling as you lead him through the aisles to the back where you had a massive display with different types of trains. "I don't have time to go through all of these, because I'm sooo late for dinner and you're closed but uh.." He looks at the different boxes and picks up the biggest one, "yeah, this'll do."
Unable to contain your laugh, your hand covers your mouth. "Is that all?"
His brows furrow. "Do you think I should get more?"
"No," you shook your head. "I just meant, like do you wanna get anything else?"
"Oh!" he laughs, shaking his head. "No, this is good."
He follows you to the front to cash out, "want me to wrap it?" You asked, already setting the box on the green wrapping paper. He nods, glancing at your name tag. "Thank you, y/n."
"You're welcome.." You trailed off and he caught on. A hand pressed to his chest. "Lance." You nodded, "you're welcome, Lance."
After wrapping the box up, you stuck a bow on it and handed it over to Lance. "I hope your nephew likes it and that you aren;t in too much trouble for being late to dinner."
Lance smiles, "thank you, for everything."
You were tossing out the scraps of wrapping paper when you heard Lance call for you. "Are you open tomorrow?"
"We are, from 8am to 10pm. Are you bringing your nephew back?"
"Maybe," he smiles, "but either way I'll be back."
"Toy shopping for yourself, Lance?" You smiled, chuckling.
"No," he smiles too. "I'll be back to ask you out, y/n. Have a good night." He waves to you with a smile, heading out the doors and leaving you with very red cheeks.
Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, fake dating at its finest, protective!Lance, some sexual references, a few kisses and lack of clothing, Lance being the best boyfriend someone can ask for, definitely way too close for this to be fake dating lmao, overly Canadian for no reason, a few swear words.
Word Count: 9.8k
Author’s Note: as a Canadian, it was my duty to write a Lance fic and have it take place at the Canadian GP + Toronto; it was necessary. // ***no animals were harmed in the making of this fic @ Cece, C and McKenna <333
Part Two: Keeping It Professional
—-
Saturday
Being an intern for Aston Martin was the dream. You were traveling the world doing what you loved. You worked with the PR and media department for the team and you couldn’t be happier. You had gotten to know everyone on the team pretty well, from the mechanics to the factory crew, to the PR team and the drivers; Sebastian was always nothing but kind to you, stopping to have a conversation whenever he saw you, asking how you’ve getting along there. Lance was sweet too, the two of you closer in age than you and Sebastian. He wasn’t all the most talkative but he was always nice to you.
The Canadian Grand Prix was Lance’s home race and it just so happened to be yours as well. Lance had grown up in Montreal and you were from Toronto which was only a few hours away from there.
You were sitting in the garage watching the qualifying session when your phone rang, you stepped into the hallway to answer the call; your mother.
“Hello ?”
“Hi darling! How are you?” Your mother’s voice came from the other end of the call. “Are you coming home this week? I know you have the week off.” She asks and you already regret telling her about the week between the Canadian GP and Silverstone.
“I suppose I am. Why ?” you ask her, glancing over to see Lance pulling back into the garage. Has qualifying ended already ?
“Your dad and I were wondering if you were bringing that boyfriend of yours. He’s there with you, isn’t he?” She asks and you sigh.
“I don’t know, we’ll see. I’ve gotta go, mom.”
“Oh, of course. Call me before you come down!” She says and it’s like you can see the smile on her face.
“Yeah, no problem.” You end the call and tuck the phone in your pocket.
You’re hiding in the hallway, trying to figure out how to explain to your mom that there is no boyfriend in the picture and that you’ve been lying to them this whole time.
There’s a hand on your shoulder, pulling you from your thoughts. You assume it’s Sebastian before even looking up because he’s the only one who stops in the hallway to chat. Imagine the surprise when you look up and find Lance in front of you.
The driver smiles at you, leaning on the wall across from you. “Any plans for this week?” He asks, small talk was his specialty you’ve learned.
You shrug, “maybe back to London after the race.”
Lance’s brows furrow, sipping on his water before he speaks. “How come? Aren’t you headed home for the week? You live like.. a few hours from here, no?”
“Yeah but my mom is really getting on my nerves. She wants me to come to my cousin’s wedding and bring my boyfriend but I don’t have a boyfriend and she doesn’t know that but she’s really pushing me, it’s just irritating.” You sigh, but then realize you’ve bared your issue to the last person who probably wants to hear it.
You give him an apologetic look. “Oh god, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to drop all that on you.”
Lance waves you off, smiling. “It’s fine.” Lance is quiet for a moment, as if he was thinking before he speaks. ‘If you want, I’ll go with you.”
You’re looking at him, part confusion and part shock which he can tell based on the look on your face. “What?”
“I’ll go with you.” He nods. You shake your head, “no, you won’t.” You’re laughing now and Lance is looking at you like you’ve lost your mind.
“You said your mom is expecting you to bring a boyfriend. I’ll go with you and pretend to be your boyfriend.” He’s so nonchalant about the whole thing.
“I’m leaving on Tuesday and I won’t be heading to London until the following Monday. Do you really want to spend a whole week with my family ?”
“If they’re anything like you, then yeah.” He smiles. Your heart flutters at his words; he really thought that about you? That he’d be willing to spend a week with you?
“Lance, you really don’t have to do this. They’re kinda crazy.” You laugh, shifting from one foot to the other. “Plus I’m sure you have better things to do. Don’t you want to spend time with your family ?”
[ preview ] in the newest episode of the william's podcast logan rambles about you, his girlfriend who's obsessed with history and corny pick-up lines.
[ tw ] none, social media au
liked by lilymhe, logansargeant and others
earthtoy/n are you a magician, because every time I look at you, everyone else disappears logansargeant 🥀🫶🏽 (ps: logie took me out on a small road date and we ended up in a local museum and ate v yummy food!!), 📍jeddah
[ view comments ]
logansargeant 7/10, i know you can do better baby
earthtoy/n boooo tomato tomato WHAT IS A KILOMETER💥💥💥
logansargeant 👎🏻👎🏻 not funny -100000
earthtoy/n you're mid
logansargeant take that back
earthtoy/n naurrrr only if you buy me ice cream
logansargeant I LOVE YOU ❤️🔥
earthtoy/n I LOVE YOU SPARKS (even more so if you finally gent your ass up and buy me some ice cream)
alexalbon DONT FORGET ABOUT ME TOO ‼️ (pls don't tag james nor my dietitian 🙏🏼)
liked by oscarpiastri, liamlawson, yourfriend and more
logansargeant home's where you are ❤️ earthtoy/n
[ view comments ]
fanuser since hard lunching logan's aesthetic stepped up, it's giving 🫂💐🫶🏻
fanuser it's the power of a gf
fanuser let bro cook 🔥🔥🔥
earthtoy/n you must be a very important textbook passage coz seeing you is the highlight of the day
logansargeant 10/10
alexalbon the last one was better tbh
earthtoy/n did anyone ask for your opinion old man? 🤨
alexalbon don't get sassy with me, you hag
earthtoy/n lilymhe yo man needs to take a nap asap
summary: y/n hosts a popular youtube channel where she invites various celebrities to have a 'chicken shop date'. in this upcoming episode, she welcomes famous formula 1 driver, charles leclerc.
a/n: all my love to amelia, i love her vids🫶🫶 also, pls lmk what u think :)
creds to @classiclitfreak for proofreading! thank uu!! :)
ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▯▯▯▯▯▯▯▯
ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▯
21st of March, 2024
yourusername posted to her story!
[ caption: red 4 🏎️🏎️🏎️ ]
[ caption: chicken shop date out on saturday!!! xx ]
[ tagged: charles_leclerc ]
yourusername posted to her story!
[ caption: aussie aussie aussie 🦘 ]
yourusername
liked by charles_leclerc, yourbfusername, landonorris and 137,923 others
yourusername i love you australia xx
view all 4,831 comments
yourbfusername third pic 👀👀
yourusername 🤫
username that's suspicious...
username ARIANA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE????
username flying across the globe for a chicken shop date??? oh this is serious guys
username nah she's just rich lol
username i'll be sad if they're just playing in our faces
username y/n becoming a ferrari girl was NOT on my bingo cards😀
charles_leclerc ❤️
yourusername 🥰🥰
username so the plot thickens
username love u charlie🫶🫶
username y/n don't play with me rn. are you dating charles or nah
(liked by author)
username girl it's been 84 years we are tired of the games😭
username 'liked by author' WHAT DOES THIS MEAN
landonorris here for mclaren i'm hoping
yourusername i- sure!
username oooh it's the lying for me miss
22nd of March, 2024
f1gossipofficial
liked by username, username, username, and 8,239 others
f1gossipofficial After arriving in Australia last night and posting a picture hugging who fans believe to be Charles Leclerc, Y/N L/N made her F1 debut this morning during the practice sessions.
She and Charles appeared to be very close, only further fuelling the dating rumours that have been circulating the internet for the past month. As of yet, however, neither of the pair has confirmed nor denied the ongoing rumours.
view all 273 comments
username bruh how hard is a "we're dating/we're not dating."😑
username lmao are you ok?? they don't owe us anything
username Y/N as an f1 wag???? OH HOW I USED TO PRAY FOR THESE TIMES
username aw she's so pretty
username a chicken shop date episode with charles is dropping tmrw so i think it's all pretend
username oh yeahhhh I almost forgot
username but travelling all across the world for that seems a little excessive? she's literally already super successful ygm
username pretending for over 4 weeks is nasty work😫
username did anyone see the way he looks at her though????😍
username RIGHT?? THEYRE SO CUTE OMG😭
23rd of March, 2024
yourusername posted to her story!
[ caption: this is more like it 😌 ]
[ tagged: charles_leclerc ]
charles_leclerc posted to his story!
[ caption: Lucky charm secured ❤️ ]
yourusername
liked by charles_leclerc, yourbfusername, landonorris and 277,004 others
yourusername chicken shop date with @charles_leclerc OUT NOW!! hope it's an uncomfortable watch xx
view all 4,992 comments
username 10/10 awkwardness, I had to pause multiple times. truly hated it, keep posting more!
yourusername thank u thank u. will do🫡
username loool Y/N ilysm
username Y/N ARE YALL DATING OR NAH??? IM SO CONFUSED
username u and me both😭😭
username idc if it's delusional i'm just gonna pretend they are🥰🥰
username ignorance is bliss babe✨😌
yourbfusername wait you guys are lowkey cute🧐
yourusername *highkey
username OMG IS THIS A CONFIRMATION??? WE WONNNN
username just fell to my knees in tesco pls don't be joking Y/N😭
charles_leclerc Avez-vous déjà pratiqué votre français ? (have you even been practising your french?)
yourusername oui oui 😌
username she's actually got it lmaoo who would've thought💀
username LMAO Y/N not "what are we?" why are you like this💀💀
username that's so real of her tbh
2:35 ───ㅇ───────── 7:55
The YouTube video begins with a series of clips showing Y/N and Charles laughing, with intermittent shots of Y/N looking directly at the screen. The familiar tune of Y/N's 'chicken shop date' videos begins as stop-motion hearts flutter across the screen, transitioning smoothly to a scene featuring two dolls seated in a miniature chicken shop date setting, seamlessly leading into the main content of the video.
"Charles Leclerc," Y/N warmly greets, resting her elbows on the table. "Welcome to our date."
Charles responds with a smile, settling back in his seat and gesturing around. "Y/N Y/LN, thank you. I'm very happy to be on our first date... here... with all these cameras," he remarks jokingly.
Y/N narrows her eyes slightly, briefly glancing around before refocusing on Charles with a hum. "I'm not sure what you're implying. This location is a solid 10 out of 10," she says, gesturing to their surroundings. "Besides, do you see the chicken?" she adds, plucking a single fry from her meal box and waving it in the air, awaiting his response.
"You mean the fry?" Charles chuckles, pointing. "That's not chicken."
Y/N takes a bite of the fry, pausing to swallow before clearing her throat. "I'm aware," she says with a dramatic tilt of her head and a tight-lipped smile. "I just grabbed it because I fancied a fry."
"But anyway," she continues, circling back to the initial question, "do... you... see... the... chicken?" Sensing his hesitation, she places her hands firmly on the table. "Look at me. It's a simple yes or no, Charles."
"Well, actually, it's yes or yes," she corrects herself with two affirmative nods, before redirecting her attention back to him.
Charles responds with a smile, though his expression betrays his confusion, evident in the different angles of his raised eyebrows. "Yes, I see it, Y/N."
"And do you taste it?" Y/N asks slowly.
"I haven't yet..."
"So, what are you waiting for?" she claps her hands together, motioning towards the untouched box of food in front of him. "Don't be shy now."
Charles chuckles as he sits up in his chair and leans forward, rummaging through the food before pulling out a chicken nugget. As he dips the piece in some ketchup, his eyes meet Y/N's once more, her wide-eyed nod urging him on.
"Go on."
"Okay, okay," he says, taking a bite. "Mmm," he nods, almost as if someone were holding a gun to his head, compelling him to do so.
"Oh," Y/N purses her lips and shakes her head, "I don't like it when people make noises while eating."
"Uh," Charles swallows and chuckles, "sorry?"
Y/N shrugs. "It's okay, I forgive you."
"Anyway," she inhales deeply, "what do you think? That's some good chicken, right?"
"Yeah, actually, it is really good," Charles nods as he speaks.
Suddenly, the video cuts to a staff member in chicken shop attire standing behind the counter, wearing a smile while staring at the camera, unmoving.
Then, the video returns to Charles and Y/N.
As Charles takes another bite of his chicken nugget, Y/N casually asks, "Do you think our children will like chicken?"
Coughing sounds interrupt as Charles drops his chicken into the box, knocking his fist against his chest until the sound clears. His voice croaks as he speaks, his brows furrowing, "Our children? We're talking about children already?"
Y/N's composure cracks slightly as she chuckles, clearly amused by his reaction, and observes him reaching for a glass of water, taking large gulps. However, she quickly regains control, shrugging nonchalantly before continuing, "Well, yeah. I don't know about you, but I date for marriage—I want a little family of my own someday. Don't you?"
Charles rubs his eyebrows and places the glass back on the table. "Yes, I do want to have a family one day. But this feels like it's moving very fast, don't you think?"
Y/N shakes her head. "Not at all. To be honest, I want one boy and one girl. What about you?"
At Y/N's continued forwardness, Charles releases a laugh, visibly bewildered, before scratching at his beard in deep thought. Propping up his elbows on the table, he finally responds, "I think I want a boy."
"—And a girl," Y/N interjects, smiling expectantly.
Charles blurts out a laugh, clearly taken aback, before nodding. "Yeah, a girl too. I don't really mind."
"Great, so we're on the same page then."
The video cuts off again, this time to the entrance of the chicken shop, slowly panning into the empty and bright interior with multiple tables and chairs. The camera stops on the large menu, featuring pictures of chicken and fries, lingering for a few moments before cutting back to Charles and Y/N.
However, this time Y/N is holding a piece of paper in front of her.
"So, I hear you're French?" Y/N glances up at Charles, noticing the grimace on his face. Quickly realising her mistake, she corrects herself, "Oh, hold on, no wait, don't kill me please. You speak French, but you're from Monaco—you don't claim France at all."
Charles laughs and nods in agreement. "Correct. I am Monegasque. Those are separate countries, yes."
Y/N purses her lips, her eyes flickering from side to side. "I know, I literally just said that." Clicking her tongue, she exhales a long breath and continues, "Anyway, what a coincidence. I'm actually trying to learn French."
Something flashes in Charles' eyes as he suddenly leans forward in his chair, his expression filled with keen interest. "Oh wow, tu l'es ? Comment vas-tu ?" (translation: "Oh wow, you are? How are you?")
Y/N freezes, her mouth parted slightly in a half-smile. For a moment, she just stares, clearly startled, before scratching the back of her neck and humming deep in thought. "Oh, okay, straight into the deep end, huh?" she chuckles and then blurts out, "Oui, oui?"
Charles tosses his head back, laughing, while Y/N folds her hands together, waiting expressionless for his laughter to subside. When he finally regains his composure, his eyes back on Y/N, she says, "Great, thanks."
"I'm sorry," Charles waves his hand in the air, "I just thought you'd know the basics already. My mistake."
Y/N narrows her gaze at him for a few moments before taking a deep breath. "Well, that's what I've got you here for." Clearing her throat, she tilts her gaze down at the paper and asks, "Let's start easy, shall we? I'm going to give you a few sentences in French, and you translate them back to me in English."
Charles furrows his brows. "Wouldn't it make more sense the other way around?"
"What can I say, I'm special," she shrugs, "I actually learn better this way."
"Ah, of course you are."
"Alright. Je t'aime."
"I love you," says Charles.
Y/N places her hand across her chest. "Aw, Charles. Dropping the L-bomb already, are we?"
Charles drags his teeth across his lower lip while shaking his head. "Next one, please."
“Veux-tu m'épouser?" (translation: "Will you marry me?")
Charles tilts his head sideways, an amused expression spreading across his face. “Seriously?”
Y/N clicks her tongue and shakes her head. “No, that doesn’t quite sound right. I think you might need to brush up on your French, Charles, because I’m pretty sure ‘Veux-tu m'épouser’ does not mean ‘seriously.’”
Exhaling a long breath, she rotates in her seat and straightens up. “Don’t worry though, I’ll give you another chance.”
Charles rolls his eyes playfully before releasing a whistle. Rubbing his hands together, he begins, “Will you marry me. That’s what it mea—”
“Charles!” Y/N's jaw drops as she interrupts him. “Well, I’m a hot commodity, you know? But I want to know, how would our marriage work? I mean, how long are you planning on racing, anyway?”
Charles smiles, slumping into his seat as he reaches for a fry and tosses it into his mouth. “I’m not sure, to be honest. I love racing and I want to be a world champion, so we’ll just have to see how long that takes.”
“You want to be a world champion, yet you extended your contract with Ferrari?” Y/N's brows furrow inquisitively. “That’s an interesting choice.”
A couple of chuckles escape Charles as he runs his hand up and down his neck, his gaze fixed on the half-empty box of food before him. After a moment's pause, he replies with a casual shrug, “They're like family to me. And honestly, when I see myself winning, it’s always with the Ferrari team by my side.”
“Fair enough,” Y/N exhales, her eyes widening as she claps her hands together. “I suppose I'll have to stock up on red outfits.”
Noticing Charles’ puzzled expression, Y/N theatrically rolls her eyes before explaining, “For our next date, silly. I’ll be your lucky charm, and then you can finally start winning and have a real shot at the World Championship.”
“Wow, how nice of you, Y/N,” Charles responds with a lazy smile. “Merci.”
“Oooh,” Y/N points at him, nodding in satisfaction, “I know that one. You’re welcome…”
“…Boyfriend?” she asks, narrowing her eyes at him. “What—what are we?”
He ponders for a moment, swaying slightly from side to side, then relents, “Okay, sure… girlfriend.”
The video cuts to the outro, displaying various polaroids of Y/N flashing by, accompanied by a text reading, ‘If you enjoyed the video, please don’t forget to like and subscribe for more! xx’.
24th of March, 2024
yourusername posted to her story!
[ caption: early day😴😴 ]
[ tagged: charles_leclerc ]
f1gossipofficial
liked by username, username, username and 4,723 others
f1gossipofficial Y/N L/N and Charles Leclerc have been spotted entering the Paddock together. Numerous sources have also confirmed seeing them exchange a few kisses.
As always, wishing the drivers all the best for today's race!
view all 269 comments
username oh we're so on
username the world is healing
username who would've thought being awkward is how to pull charles leclerc💀
username ig this means we all have a chance
username lmaooo i need u to be so fr
username ugh I don't see the hype?? that video made me so uncomfortable, she's such a weirdo
username nobody cares bruh
username mhm iktr😌 we love to see it
f1
liked by yourusername, carlossaiz55, username and 324,076 others
f1 Carlando back on the podium together! Congrats to Carlos Sainz, Lando Norris and Charles Leclerc on their wins! Huge accomplishments!
#F1 #Formula1 #AusGP
view all 248 comments
username CARLANDO LETS GOOOOOO
username aw they all deserved it I'm so happy for them😭🫶
username carlos the man that you are❤️
yourusername 🥳👏
username seeing Y/N become an actual f1 girl🤧
username please treat charles well for us🥹
username lfg 💪
yourusername
liked by yourbfusername, charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc and 263,014 others
tagged: charles_leclerc
yourusername as the french say 'soo la voo' or whatever xxx
view all 5902 comments
charles_leclerc close enough🤣
yourusername je t'aime ❤️
username OMGG??????? AHHH KICKING MY FEET🥰
username wow we've literally gone full circle🤧
username he fell first she fell harder tease🥹
username NOOOO CHARLIE NOT HER :(
username girl shut up
yourbfusername lool cuties <33
yourusername bby 🫶
username is- is this what it feels like to win?😭❤️❤️
can't believe i'm doing this but our deal series is a go, find all the parts, finished and future here / send me an ask or comment below or on a fic to be added to the taglist!! and as usual let me know what you think! :)
plot: lando norris x williams driver!reader, friends with benefits (idiots to lovers) - 2023 F1 Season
part one | suzuka
part two | just friends | social media au
part two(.five) | qatar
part three | mexico
part four | miami
part five | heart eyes | social media au
part six | las vegas
part seven | question mark | social media au
part eight | season end
part nine | together | social media au
bonus - an our deal christmas
plot: lando norris x williams drivers!reader against the world (idiots in love) - 2024 F1 Season
part one | dts
your best friend never told you that her older brother was off limits, but she never said he wasn’t, either.
that still didn’t stop you from catching feelings for him, and you’d rather die than go up to her and say, “hey, i’m in love with oscar, is it okay if we date?” mostly because now you know oscar wants you too, and to be honest, it’s kind of fun keeping it a secret.
you saw him about as much as his family did— most of the time he was away for work, but the next race was his home one, and he arrived a week early. you, of course, being his sister’s best friend, practically lived at the piastri house half the time, and ended up being there for his homecoming. the side hug he’d given you was expected, but the wink he sent your way when he started climbing the stairs to his room was not.
you replayed that moment over and over in your head for the rest of the day, until eventually you found yourself struggling to sleep and decided to go down to the kitchen for some water.
silently slipping out of the guest room, you were careful to tread lightly down the stairwell, avoiding all the creaky spots with practiced ease. you didn’t want to wake anyone up, most of all the object of all the thoughts that were keeping you awake.
though, all your effort was for naught when you saw that the overhead sink light was on in the kitchen, and none other than oscar himself was quietly getting ice out of the freezer. his hair looked unbelievably soft and slightly messy, like he was running his hands through it. he was wearing an older looking pair of gray joggers, and worst of all, he wasn’t wearing a shirt. you’ve seen him shirtless plenty of times, but one look was all it took to notice that he had most definitely filled out since you last saw him.
your mind was screaming at you to abort mission, abort mission, because you couldn’t be alone with him when he’s half naked like this, but when you shifted to make your retreat, you stepped on the wrong floorboard. it groaned obnoxiously loudly, and your eyes met oscar’s.
“can’t sleep?”
you shook your head. “uh-uh. figured i’d get a drink and see if that helps.”
“ah, we had the same idea then.” he smiled softly. “sit down, i’ll get it for you.”
“thanks, oz.” the childhood nickname slipped easily from your lips as you crossed the kitchen and lifted yourself up onto the counter nearest to him. “having a good season so far?”
“yeah, pretty good. good progression with the car, almost got a podium last race.”
“i know,” you said, looking down at your lap when he raised his eyebrows at you. “i watched.”
he hummed, handing you a glass and holding his own up. “cheers.”
you clinked your glass against his and took a sip before putting it to the side. “no teasing remarks?”
“nah, i think it’s cute.” he grinned, taking another drink and setting his own glass down. “my number one fangirl.”
“and there it is,” you rolled your eyes, though his quiet laughter was infectious and you couldn’t help joining in. “i’m your sister’s best friend, obviously i’m gonna watch.”
“and it has nothing to do with me?” he asked with a faux pout, flattening a palm right next to you on the counter so he could lean a bit closer.
“do you want it to?” you rested your hand inches away from his and closed the gap between the two of you a little.
“i think it already does.” his other hand slid between your thighs and forced them apart so he could move into the new space and effectively cage you to where you sat on the counter. “y’know, i almost kissed you in front of everyone earlier.”
“why didn’t you?” you whispered, eyes fluttering when his nose brushed yours.
“wanted it to happen when we were alone.” you could practically feel his lips against your own when he spoke, but you also really wanted him to make the first move.
running on the pure adrenaline stemming from your close proximity to the man you want more than anything in the world, you ran your palms over the back of his hands, up his forearms, past his biceps, and settled them on his bare shoulders. “oz…”
“yeah,” he replied, like he knew everything you were trying to say, before he finally closed the distance between you.
immediately, you knew you were addicted to kissing him. the way his mouth moved against yours, the way he wrapped your legs around his hips and held your knees to keep them there, the way he sighed when your fingers slid into his hair. you no longer wanted anything more than you wanted to keep kissing him even after all the breath left your lungs.
he took his time kissing you, keeping everything slow, soft, and gentle. there was no tongue, no teeth, no desperation. if either of you felt anything, it was relief.
finally.
it’s the first thing you said when you broke apart, causing him to smile before pulling you right back in. he kissed you again, and again, until your lips were swollen and you heard someone move around upstairs, breaking you out of your lovestruck trance.
“i’ll see you in the morning,” he whispered as you slid off the counter, reaching down and tangling your fingers with his and giving your hand a squeeze.
a squeeze that promises subtle glances across the table at breakfast, fleeting touches in the stairwell, and many more late night kisses.
word count: 957
masterlist — join my tag list here!
note: i got very creative with the title (not). i can’t believe i’ve never thought to write this before!!! omg this was so delicious.
my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!
Summary: When you take an edible chocolate with your boyfriends it has an unexpected side effect.
Warnings: 18+ only, edibles, smut, oral (both), mmf.
WC: 2. 3k
The box looked inconspicuous enough.
Oscar turned the packaging over and read through the ingredients while you and Lando opened three individually wrapped treats. They looked like any other boutique chocolate you had tried but this one promised more than a sugar high.
“Bottoms up,” Lando said with a grin.
You tapped your square of chocolate against his with a reciprocal smile. “I hope so.”
You both bit into the treats and moaned at the decadent richness that coated your tongue. You couldn’t even taste the drug that would absorb slowly into your system, leaving you with a long lasting high that would surely make the boring dinner party better.
“Oh my god, that was so good!” you hummed as you licked your fingers clean and found Lando had finished his too.
Oscar chuckled as he saw a spot of chocolate in the corner of Lando’s lips and kissed it clean before grabbing his own piece. “We normally take half.”
“You’ve never been to this event before, trust me, you’ll need a whole one,” Lando assured him, taking the chocolate and guiding it to Oscar’s parted lips himself.
Your body started to heat in response to the small sounds Oscar made as Lando fed him. “Why are you two teasing me? You know we don’t have time to play before the car gets here.”
Reluctantly, Oscar pulled away and swallowed his mouthful before returning to pack up the box. He opened the box again and put the few remaining wrappers back in, before noticing the instruction booklet under the tray. “Uh, guys, I don’t think this was weed,” he mutters.
“What do you mean?” Lando said with a laugh. “This is the box Daniel said to get.”
“Wait, Danny?” You hoped you hadn’t heard correctly. “The same Danny who has been trying to get back at you for the prank in Vegas?”
Lando laughed and shook his head, but realisation seemed to slowly dawn on his face and he snatched the box out of Oscar’s hands. His eyes scanned across the page of tiny disclaimers until it fluttered with his shaking hands.
“What did you give us, Lando?” you asked as you looked between both of your boyfriends. “Osc?”
“Okay, so, don’t panic,” Oscar’s words immediately made your heart start pumping faster and he pulled you into his arms to draw soothing circles over your back. “It’s fine, baby. You might just feel a little…”
“What?”
“Horny,” Lando answered for him before he couldn’t suppress his laugh any longer. “I’m going to get him for this.”
“You don’t sound very worried,” you said to Lando before looking at Oscar. Obviously, he was never one to worry so he just shrugged.
“I’ll take care of you if you need it,” he promised.
—
“I can’t tell if this is the chocolate or me,” you grumbled as you sat between your boyfriends in the backseat of the car. Your hands gripped their thighs in an effort to keep them from roaming any higher, but it was a losing battle.
“That’s just you, baby, it said it could take an hour to kick in,” Lando said, fiddling with his tie again. “Why do these have to be so tight?”
“He says it like he didn’t asked to be choked last night,” Oscar chuckled, reaching over your shoulder to tuck the tie back under his collar. “Now relax.”
“That was the plan,” Lando said with a roll of his eyes. “I’m going to fucking kill Danny.”
“Worry about that later, we’re here.”
You accepted Oscar’s hand and stepped out after him to the flash of cameras. It was hard not to feel inadequate when you were standing beside two of the most handsome men you had ever met, but when they curled their arms around your waist and whispered sweet words the worry fell away.
“You look so beautiful, darling,” Lando said softly as he brushed his lips over your cheek. “I’m having a hard time keeping this PG-13.”
Oscar caught his finger under Lando’s chin and turned his hungry eyes away from you. “Stop looking at each other like that, you’re not the only one having a hard time,” he groaned. You couldn’t help glancing down his body but the black suit pants hid the ‘hard time’ he was growing in them. “Stop looking at me like that,” he warned.
“I can’t help that I am infatuated with you two,” you said innocently, a sweet smile drawing his attention to your kissable lips. “Tsk, tsk, stop looking at me like that, Osc. Have some self control.”
Lando laughed and led you away from Osc as he tipped his head back with a silent prayer to survive the evening with his brats. When he had his composure back, he scanned the area for you but in those short seconds you and Lando had disappeared into the busy venue. “Fuck,” he groaned before beginning his search.
The crowd of businessmen swallowed you whole and it was only Lando’s hand that kept you from being swept away as he followed the bodies into the venue. His stiff back that you tucked in behind was the only outward sign that he hated the event but it was a night that couldn’t be avoided as McLaren needed investors to continue its growth.
“Drink, love?” he asked over his shoulder.
“Only if it’s strong,” you winked. He smirked before suddenly changing direction and towing you towards the bar. “Shit!”
Lando turned quicker than your eyes could follow and he was glaring at the shocked stranger who stared at the damp splash in your dress. It would have made you laugh if the dress wasn’t worth more than your monthly pay and currently freezing from the icy drink that now decorated your bodice.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there,” the man apologised.
“You didn’t see her?” Lando asked in disbelief. He couldn't understand how anyone could miss the most beautiful person in the room.
“It-it’s just water,” he stammered as he reached to brush the water drops away but Lando caught his wrist before he could touch you. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine, I wasn’t paying attention,” you said as you peered around for the bathrooms before spotting the arrow pointing down a hall. “Come on, Lan.”
“Watch where you are going next time,” Lando imparted the advice as he turned with you, feeling your elbow nudge into his ribs at the attitude. “What? There is no way he didn’t see you. Everyone else can’t take their eyes off you.”
You rolled your eyes at the idea and stepped into the room as he opened the door for you. “It’s you they are staring at,” you corrected.
He slipped inside the powder room behind you and checked the attached room for the toilet was empty before he attacked. His lips threatened to ruin your makeup as he pinned you between his body and the wall, grinding himself along your front until your eyes fluttered shut. “You don’t see what I do,” he murmured between his heated kisses to your neck. His hand ran up your thigh, finding the slit in the dress so it could climb higher and brush the edge of your panties. “So fucking sexy and everyone knows you’re mine.”
A throat cleared and your eyes flew open to see Oscar leaning back against the door, an amused smirk on his lips as he watched the show unfold. “Yours?” he taunted as he snapped the lock into place.
“Ours,” Lando accentuated with his usual sass that had Oscar pushing off from the door and crossing the distance in two long strides.
Desire was pooling at your core as you watched Oscar’s hand envelope Lando’s throat and pull him closer. Their lips collided with a fierce need to determine dominance and Lando tried to fight it before he succumbed to Oscar with a moan. Satisfied, Oscar pulled back to see Lando’s pupils blown out and a breathy whimper escaped his swollen lips.
“You are both mine,” Oscar clarified before his eyes danced over your body and noticed the wet material. “What happened?”
“Some idiot spilt his drink on her.”
Oscar grabbed a hand towel from the shelf and started to dab away as much moisture as he could but every brush of the material sent little bolts of lightning across your body. Suddenly it felt like your body was on fire and you bit your lip as the flames reached your core.
“Oh fuck,” you moaned as the last touch caught the underside of your beast and it felt heavy with need. “Do that again, please.”
Lando was feeling the same heated effects course through his veins as the chocolates reacted with his body. “I think it’s been an hour,” he chuckled, reaching for the stiff peak he could see pressing against the thin material of your dress. He brushed the back of his knuckles over your nipple and hummed at the sound you made for him.
Oscar abandoned the cloth and sank to his knees on the tiles. He swore he could smell your sweet arousal, the mouthwatering scent driving him insane as he bunched your dress up and kissed your core over the lace. The ax of time hung over your head as you all knew the dinner was about to begin but you didn’t care the moment you looked down at Oscar’s eyes.
“Just a quickie,” he agreed as he read your mind. Lando crushed his lips against yours as Oscar pushed your panties aside and tasted you with a languid swipe of his tongue. One boyfriend made you cry out and the other stole the sound with his kiss. Your hands tangled their hair, feeling the different textures between your fingers as you deepened the kiss and rocked your hips against Oscar’s face.
“Fuck,” Lando groaned at the pretty sight. “I’m so unbelievably hard right now.” He grabbed your hand to prove his words and you stroked his length over his trousers. “I don’t know if I want to kill Danny anymore.”
Oscar laughed against your clit and the vibration curled your toes in your heels and you cried out at the sensation. The sound cut through Lando’s amusement and his belt snapped open, his trousers falling just enough to free his cock. Your hand wrapped around him and he covered your hand with his, guiding you up and down in long slow strokes.
“We are going to make a mess of your dress, baby,” Lando moaned as he felt his orgasm coming embarrassingly quickly thanks to the chocolate. You barely heard him as your own impending release hazed your mind but Oscar thought quick enough to pull away. Your body missed his mouth instantly but your cunt clenched at the sight of him taking Lando’s cock deep in his throat. “Fuck, Osc, that’s it, babe.”
You could hardly breathe as you watched Lando’s jaw clench and he shuddered as he spilled himself in Oscar’s mouth. Your boyfriend’s throat bounced as stood up and he swallowed the mouthful down, leaving Lando to sag against the wall while he recovered.
“You missed a spot,” you said as you leant in and caught the drop of cum that clung to the corner of his lips. A soft hum reverberated as you shared the taste with a kiss and you pressed yourself against him to feel just how much he was feeling the drug too. “Need a hand?”
“Not quite,” he smirked, turning you around to face Lando. “Hold on.”
Lando reached out and you gripped his forearms as Oscar bundled your dress up in one hand and pushed your panties aside again with the other. He gave no warning before he sheathed himself deep inside your cunt and you buried your face in Lando’s chest with a gasp. You felt impossibly full before he snapped his hips back and then buried himself in you, over and over, an unrelenting pace that quickly brought back the edge of your orgasm.
Your cries were muffled by Lando’s dress shirt and your nails threatened to rip the expensive jacket he wore as you were rocked by your release that came so suddenly white spots danced across your vision. For a second your body was disconnected from your mind and the two only collided back together when Oscar joined you, warmth pooling in your core as he filled it with his seed.
“Wooow,” Oscar chuckled as he pulled out and combed a hand through his hair. “That shit is strong.”
“At least we have something to take the edge off,” Lando said, before tossing the hand towel to Oscar. Oscar ran the towel under the warm tap and carefully cleaned up the mess he made before he pulled your panties back into place and let your dress fall around your unsteady legs.
Oscar curled a brow at his boyfriend and the glint in his eye that said he expected a few more stops to this room during the night. “Let’s try to make it back to the hotel next time.”
“No promises,” he said with a wink. “Now, shall we go and sit through a bunch of old man speeches and try not to fall asleep?”
You looked down at your dress and found the wet patch had dried considerably, so much that it wouldn’t even be noticeable in the dim lights of the hall. “You still owe me a drink.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Lando gave you a salute and unlocked the door, opening it to an empty corridor. “A strong one. Osc?”
“No, thank you, one of us has to be responsible.”
Lando looked at you, his lips barely suppressing the grin on his face. “He says it like he didn’t just fuck you in a bathroom.”
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