[lostinthefandoms11]

Inside Linds' Mind

(Graphic by: @jaspxr)

Hi I'm Linds, 30s, and my pronouns are she/her.

I am an avid watcher of shows and movies and find myself hyper fixating on them. I become a fan of the characters and actors and it goes downhill from there. My blog is a reflection of that 🥰

Anyway, hello and welcome to my blog. Nice to meet you, please enjoy your stay.

[dinah-lance]

Claudia Jessie by Ellyse Anderson for The Glass Magazine (May 2026)

[starlithatosy]

Out of My Head

sequel to Out of Touch

clayton emerson x younger female reader

Summary: Clayton Emerson has been battling with the aftermath of losing you and when faced with a hard decision he finds that maybe he waited too long.

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: age gap, mentions of child abuse, arranged marriages, cancer, car accident, swimming accident, death, sex, light gore/blood, alcohol, natural disasters, angst, yearning, divorce.

Author's Note: This part is told in Clayton’s POV and will get a little dark. I am also not an expert at the way the ocean works, this is purely for dramatics. So sorry in advance.

It had been bred into him, the mentality that everything in life was a series of transactions. Family, friendships, marriage, children, work. All of it. Emotions were an unnecessary human trait, 'a flaw in design' as his father had always told him every time he'd let his carefully crafted mask slip in front of him. 

And love? Well that didn't exist. 

He'd never seen any proof of it being real. His parents sure as hell didn't love each other, their marriage set in stone from birth. The same ideology that had been, literally, beat into him had been done so to them. A long line of family tradition. 

He too was forced into an arranged marriage with a girl from one of the Native families on the island. A way to 'keep the peace', which was horseshit if you asked him. No love had blossomed from that union, Clayton Emerson too much like his father at that point. 

Though not so much like his father that he laid a hand on his wife or the child they eventually had. No, he swore from the age of ten that he'd never stoop that low. But he would be lying if he said he didn't lash out verbally sometimes. 

Clayton had also done something his father never would've done. He was loyal to his family. Never strayed, never seeked release with another party. He was too busy building up a career in politics and gathering funding for family housing that sex was rarely on the forefront of his mind. 

They'd done it exactly four times in the twelve years they'd spent together. Once on their wedding night, another grossly outdated tradition, and three times trying for their son Kainalu. They never touched each other after that, it wasn't necessary once the 'Emerson Heir' had made his arrival. 

As their son grew older and developed a rebellious streak, Clayton grew harsher. He hated not being in control of a situation, a trait he'd inherited from his father. He resorted to threats and using money and power to gain what he wanted. He knew how to work people like clay in his palms. 

The fights between him and his wife also intensified until the explosion that resulted in her filing for divorce and moving in with her sister, Kainalu in toe. 

He'd never admit it, but he felt relieved. Glad to be freed from the shackles of a marriage neither of them wanted. It felt like he could breath for the first time in his life. Glad that both his parents had passed, his mother from breast cancer and his father in a car accident a year later, and couldn't nag him about fucking things up. 

His only regret was that him and his son's relationship turned completely sour. He'd tried to make amends, taking him out to do fun things during the weekends he was allotted. Let him stay up late playing video games, stocked the kitchen with all his favorites, even the stuff his ex never let him have usually. 

Tried not to be so much like his parents but fuck was it hard when that was all he really knew. 

Then one day, it was like something shifted within his son. Gone, almost anyway, was that rebellious streak and in came a young man wanting to take hold of his future. Kainalu had told him he wanted to be a life guard, to train with the North Shore Rescue unit. Apparently one of his friend's brother's had gone up and done the program and had been gushing about it on his visit back home. 

Clayton wasn't so sure, the risk that would be. He'd always hoped his son would follow in his footsteps, continue the family line. But he knew that wasn't really his voice in his head but his father's. 

A long conversation was had between him and his ex wife. But they'd agreed that Clayton would go with him, work on getting to know the community up there and maybe gain some votes for his mayoral election while Kainalu entered the program.

It was handy that Clayton's family owned a house and plot of land up there already. No need to look for housing for themselves for the duration of their stay. One less thing to worry about.

They'd set off, their journey up had been one of his favorite memories he'd ever had with his son. They seemed to have let go of any animosity between them and really let loose. 

They belted out old 90s rock songs, ate junk food from gas stations along the way and took time to appreciate the scenery of the island. It was the most fun Clayton had ever had. 

They'd settled into the house pretty quickly and things just fell into place. He found he liked the quietness of the north shore, still bustling but turned down compared to Honolulu. 

He'd quickly won over the people in town and secured his mayoral position with ease and things were even going well with Kainalu's training. All was as he hoped it would be.

What he wasn't prepared for, was you. 

The first sighting was when he'd come along to introduce himself to Kainalu's new unit. He selfishly had secured him a place on the squad despite his son not technically qualifying for the position. But he was a man who could pull strings and he would do anything to make sure his son was happy and settled. 

You stood at the back but he'd seen you right away. You were sun-kissed and a little wet from having been in and out of the water all day. You'd had on cropped tank top, your breasts peaking out over the top, and pair of little shorts on that probably made your ass looks like heaven. He felt a stirring deep within him and it made him pause, eyes boring into yours. 

And you had stared back, eyebrow lifting and a soft smile played on your lips. He could've sworn you had come to the same conclusion. This was the beginning of something. He wasn't sure what but the anticipation gnawed at him for weeks until your next encounter. 

It was at a fundraising event the community was putting on to raise money for different charities throughout the town. Everyone was in attendance, the town square a bustling hub of people and chatter. 

There was food trucks, business stalls, performances and a DJ. The weather had even behaved for them. It was an over all successful event. 

Clayton found himself at one of the beer tents after things started to slow down. He'd been tugged left and right by various people and organizations, receiving several dozen congratulations and offers to work together in the future. He shot them all 'thank yous' and firm smiles and suggested they get in contact with his office so they could work something out. 

What he needed now was a fucking drink. 

He'd been sitting in comfortable silence for the first time all night, nursing a glass of bourbon, when suddenly you were there. Sitting two seats down and looking like a goddess among men. 

He was totally staring, he knew he was. You knew he was. And just like you had that first time, you stared back. Curiosity and wonder clear as day on your face. 

"Long day, Mayor Emerson?" The sound of your voice sent a bolt of lightening through him. The alto of your tone was low and soothing, like he could enter a state of deep zen just listening to you talk. 

"That obvious?" He replied after collecting himself, taking a swig of his drink. 

"You're staring off into the void and the choice of drink is very telling." You shot him a warm smile and his heart began thumping in his chest. 

"I was hoping no one would notice." 

"You're easy to notice." There was a double meaning there, he knew by the sparkle in your eyes. 

Eventually you moved down so you sat next to him, the scent of ocean and vanilla consuming him as you entered his orbit. 

The two of you talked for hours, heavy banter and perhaps even some light flirting. It felt good talking to you. He didn't think he had ever talked to anyone this much but you had a way of pulling things out of people. A safe place to settle into. 

And from there it had felt like every encounter you had, you gravitated towards each other. It was innocent at first, anyone looking couldn't possibly mistake it for anything but two people sharing in a friendly, cordial conversation. 

Clayton felt anything but friendly towards you though, being in your presence had grown more difficult the more it happened. He was starting to feel things foreign to him. He couldn't place what it was and it concerned him deeply. 

He figured it was just lust, he'd gone so long without experiencing it or even engaging in sexual activity and having a pretty girl like you even looking at him with those warm, sparkling eyes was bound to mess with his head. 

He had accepted that things would not leave the comfort of his head. He was used to bottling things up and putting on a mask. He could live with just imagining what he'd do to you, stroking himself to madness in the dark of his bedroom at night. He convinced himself that was enough for him. 

It was a random Tuesday in June that you asked him if he wanted to have sex. You'd said it like you were commenting on the weather. So casual and like it wasn't a huge deal at all. 

"Listen, it doesn't have to be like anything serious. Just sex. We're both single. I think you're attractive and I think you think I am too. I feel this tension between us and it's kind of eating me alive and maybe if it's also eating you alive then we should do something about it. No one has to even know." You rambled, your face growing redder with each word. 

You were avoiding his eyes, something you rarely did unless you were nervous. His heart clenched, a small smile tugged at his mouth. He reached up and tucked a strand of hair that had fallen into your face as you animatedly spoke behind your ear, his finger tips trailing down the skin of your neck. 

It had been so fucking easy to say yes to you. He would face the consequences later, battle with the idea that this was so fucking wrong another time. Right now, he just wanted to be lost in you. 

It became an addiction, one time turned into two and then into a dozen. Each time he lost a part of himself to you. No matter how hard he tried to grasp at the pieces, to keep things emotionless and transactional, it was no use. 

He couldn't get enough of the shape of your breasts, the feeling of your hard and sensitive nipples in his mouth and the way in made you squirm. The taste of your pussy lingered on his tongue long after he'd finished lapping and sucking at your swollen clit. The euphoric sensation of your hot, wet heat clenching around his cock as he fucked into you firm and deep. The way you lost yourself in a state of pleasure when you'd ride him, dragging him over the edge with you. He didn't know how he could ever go back after experiencing you. 

He knew he was well and truly fucked when he almost let it slip that he loved you during sex a few months into things. It hit him like a truck, rattling him to his core. He'd tried to keep his cool but the second you had departed for the night he let the feeling consume him. 

It had gone too far. He had let things go beyond what he should have. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, reeling back in the revelation. Folded it up and locked it away in a deep part of his brain. 

He didn't love you. Love didn't exist, especially not for someone like Clayton Emerson. You deserved more, better than he could ever give you. Plus you were young, you had a whole world of experiences still to have. Goals to achieve and people to meet. He had no real place in your life like that. 

He couldn't even fathom the image of you ever returning the feelings. There was nothing there for you to love, to see the good in. He barely let down his walls with you anyway. It wasn't a possibility worth entertaining. 

He had been such an ass to you at the appreciation dinner he hosted at his home the following evening. 

The look of hurt that had played out on your face had nearly killed him. And the way you were clearly trying to avoid him at all costs even before you two had exchanged a single word made him feel like the world's biggest prick.

And fuck you had looked like a dream in that little black dress. The way it hugged all your curves so flawlessly. The open back made him want to trail kisses down the length of your spine. The plunge of the neck line showcasing your breasts just enough to make him almost start drooling in the middle of that room. You were every dream he'd ever had, right there and he couldn't do anything about it. 

And then you had just…..disappeared. He'd nonchalantly wondered around the party trying to seek you out, to apologize for being such an ass and maybe try and get you to understand why. Maybe not the full story but enough of it. 

He had started to text you but there was no response. You didn't pick up his calls either. That's when the panic started to set in, like a fire blazing through his body from his head down to his toes. 

He'd waited for you to show up at the hotel you usually met at, he had a room permanently booked at a place a few towns over. But you never showed, never reached out. Just complete and utter silence and it had been the most excruciating thing he'd ever endured. 

He didn't sleep that night, tossed and turned at the haunting feeling that he'd fucked up. That you'd grown tired of his bullshit and were ridding yourself of him for real this time. Every other time the two of you had tried to end things it never really felt like either of you meant it, like it was an empty promise. This felt different. 

He should let you go, he knew it was the right thing to do. Being connected to him hadn't ever been a good idea but he was selfish enough to let himself get caught up in things, in you. Now was the perfect opportunity. 

He couldn't remember how he'd gotten to your place of work. His hair a mess, his clothes from the night before wrinkled and out of place. He knew he probably looked absolutely insane, he could tell by the concerned looks on everyone's faces but he didn't care. 

All he cared about was you. You were still avoiding him, standing at the back and looking somewhere behind him and pretending to listen to what he was saying. He didn't even really know what words were coming out of his mouth, anyway.

He'd cornered you in the parking lot as you were loading up the car for the day. And he'd done something he'd never done before, not with anyone. He'd let you in, just a tiny fraction. Admitting that he did feel emotions and cared for you. Maybe not in so many words but he hoped you caught on. 

You had forgiven him quicker than he would've anticipated and definitely faster than he deserved but he was willing to take it if it meant you'd still want to be around him. 

He made love to you that night, he could never bring himself to say the words but he used his body to get the point across. And you gave it right back to him. 

Every slow, strong thrust into you was a silent confession, his eyes boring into yours begging you to realize how much you meant to him. He kissed every inch of skin he could get his mouth on, sucking and licking and marking your body so you'd remember who was there. 

You were a goddess and he worshiped you until you were both tired and shaking and physically couldn't continue. That was the first night the two of you had fallen asleep together and woke in each other's arms the next morning. 

That was how things had been for you since. 

Clayton had thought that was the biggest storm you two would weather but he was so God damn wrong. He could look back at that time and laugh at how dramatic and absurd he'd been compared to now. 

"I love you." It clanged through him even now. Days after he'd told you to leave and you'd stormed out like a tornado. 

He swore the look of devastation and humiliation on your face would follow him around like a specter to his grave. He didn't linger too long on the fact that you'd looked at him with total abhorrence when you spat that you never wanted to see him and again and that you would ruin him. 

Little did you know you already had. Long before that night. And he didn't care if you told the whole town, didn't care if you marched him naked through the streets screaming 'shame' at him. He would have deserved every minute of it. 

Life had adopted a feeling of dullness. Once where there was light and a kernel of hope, there was now a void so dark and depth-less that Clayton wasn't sure there was a way out. 

He wrestled with the option of going to your house, despite your threat and desire to never see him again, and beg on his knees for you to please hear him out. Or to respect your space and let you go. 

In the end he decided you were better off without him. 

Three months passed before he saw you again. And he wished more than anything that he had decide to go home that night after work. 

He'd had a long day at the office. Stacks of paperwork, left to collect dust, needed to be addressed. Back to back meetings and no room to breathe or eat. He was running off of caffeine and shear determination to work himself into the ground. 

He decided to stop by one of the local bars for a drink and a change of scenery. He knew people would be too drunk or preoccupied to take notice of him. He'd been cooped up in the house when he wasn't working, trying to avoid the possibility of running into you. 

It figures that you would show up at the one place he chose on the one night he decided to be bold. 

You were there with some friends, a few he recognized from the North Shore unit. You had on a flowy sundress, the print so reminiscent of his Hawaiian shirt that it made his heart pinch and crack. 

His mind wandered back to that night, before hell had frozen over. How breathtaking you looked while he pumped into you, his shirt hanging off your shoulders. He swore he could spend forever with you just like that. Too bad he'd completely lost any chance of that becoming his reality. 

He froze when he noticed his son sitting next to you, sitting close and whispering something in your ear. His arm was draped over the back of your chair and Clayton's eardrums started to ring at the way you laughed at whatever he had said. 

It was when you shifted your head to whisper your response back in Kainalu's ear, your breasts pressing forward toward him, that Clayton's vision had gone red. There was a sudden sharp sting in the palm of his hand and he looked down and saw shattered glass and a river of red streaming down his forearm. 

"Shit. Shit. Shit." He cursed, stumbling out of his chair, which had fallen back and clattered on the ground in a loud thud. He looked around for anything he could use to stop the flow of blood. 

"Dad? You alright?" Clayton closed his eyes, took a deep breath before he turned to look at his son. He almost whimpered when he saw you there over Kainalu's shoulder, eyes wide with concern. 

"I'm fine. Just a little accident." He said through gritted teeth, silently begging for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. 

"That doesn't look like a little accident, your look like you're gonna bleed out." 

"Don't be dramatic, I'm fine. Go back to your friends." He snapped, he hadn't meant to be so harsh but given the situation he found himself in, he felt it was a valid reaction. 

There was a sudden sound of something tearing and then there you were. In his space, gently taking his hand in yours. His heart thudded violently against his chest as he watched you inspect the wound. There didn't seem to be any glass embedded in the cut thankfully, so you made quick work binding the wound. 

He realized you had torn a strip from your dress and his heart fluttered. You stayed silent during the entire interaction, eyes never lifting to meet his again. You were a woman with a mission. 

But he couldn't look away from you, his eyes almost rolling to the back of his head as the familiar scent of ocean and vanilla and something boozy wafted over him. In another life, in a more secluded place, he would've dipped his head down and pressed a kiss against the bare skin of your shoulder. Then he would've made a trail up the length of your neck, up to your cheeks and finally your lips. 

He didn't mean to lean in closer, the image in his brain clouding his better judgment. He pulled back the second your body tensed up and it felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over his head. 

You finished your work and before he could utter a weak 'thank you', you had turned on your heels and walked away back to your table. He knew he probably looked like a kicked puppy the way he was staring after you, his mouth set in a deep frown. It took him too long to notice his son was still standing there with a look of curiosity and concern on his face. 

"I take it you're good then?" Kainalu said after a beat, clearing his throat and shifting awkwardly on his feet. 

"Yeah, son, all good." It couldn't be farther from the truth but he forced a stiff smile anyway. 

The last thing he saw on his way out of the bar, after cleaning himself up as best he could and leaving a hefty tip as an apology for the mess and disruption, was Kainalu's hand on your lower back. Once again whispering something in your ear that drew out a fit of giggles. 

Clayton had half a hope he didn't wake up the next morning. 

But he had woken up and did every morning after that, the scene from the bar playing over and over again and sending him into total agony. He tried to make sense of it all, why of all people you could choose would it be his son? 

It wasn't that Kainalu was a bad choice. If it was any other girl he'd be thrilled. But there was too much history between the two of you, too much to come to light and make for a catastrophic end for all parties involved. Plus, you made it clear you never wanted to see him again. Being with Kainalu would guarantee interacting with each other from time to time. 

But the way you had come up to him, handled him with so much care despite not uttering a word, when you didn't have to left him in an even deeper pit of confusion. Those hadn't been the actions of someone who wished to pretend he didn't exist. His heart skipped a beat at the hope that slipped it's way in. He shut it down immediately. 

Knock. Knock. 

His head whipped up to see his son standing on the other side of the the kitchen island, his brow raised. "You're alive." 

"Why wouldn't I be?" 

"I tried calling you to tell you I was stopping by like four times and you didn't respond." Clayton looked around for his phone, patting down the pockets but came up empty. 

"Must've misplaced it. Sorry." The uneasy look on Kainalu's face grew more severe. "Everything okay?" 

What Clayton wasn't prepared for was his son to flat out ask what the deal between you and him was. 

"Excuse me?" Acting defensive had been his first instinct but he feared that might've made him look more guilty. 

"There just felt like some weird tension between you two at the bar the other night and any time I'd ask about it, she would get all weird and dismissive. I figured it really was nothing but then I started thinking about it." 

"Thinking about what, exactly?" He felt like his stomach was going to fall out of his ass due to the anticipation of where this conversation was about to go. 

"You two always seemed so friendly before. I'd catch you off talking for hours it seemed. Like I'd leave for awhile and come back and you two would still be at it. Then I started to notice you both would leave around the same time and the next time I'd see either of you, you acted like you'd won the lottery," 

"Then there was that random day you showed up at my job and I'd never seen you look like that in my entire life. You've always been the most put together person, aside from Grandma and Grandpa obviously. But it looked like someone jumped you before you'd even walked in. And you couldn't keep your eyes off of her for more than a few seconds at a time. But then the next day everything seemed back to normal, better even." 

Clayton wasn't sure if he was breathing the entire time his son spoke, laying out all these moment he was sure had gone unnoticed or could've been written off for something else entirely. His ability to form words had been ripped from him, all he could do was stare off into a void somewhere past his son's shoulder. 

"She's been different lately. Like she's been on autopilot. She rarely comes out anymore, that night we ran into you had been her first outing in months. And you? You've regressed back into your old self, maybe even worse than before. So I'll ask again, what's the deal with you two?" 

He found himself at a crossroads, to tell him the truth or to brush it off like he had read things wrong. That his bad mood and the way things had affected you weren't in cahoots. And fuck just hearing any tidbit about how you were doing pulled at his heart strings. 

"Dad?" The sound of Kainalu's pleading tone brought him back to reality. 

"I-I….." He tried, his voice like gravel. "W-we were, yes. We were seeing each other." 

It was like a weight off of his chest, though one he wasn't sure if he was quite ready to be relieved of. The thought that the truth had been spoken into the universe for the first time was terrifying, unease gnawed at him not knowing what his son would do with the information now in his palms. 

"What happened?" He was calm as he spoke, his eyes boring into his father's and Clayton couldn't stop the words now that he'd started. 

"She told me she loved me and I-I told her to leave. I regretted it immediately b-but there was no stopping her once I'd r-rejected her." His heart clenched as the memory flashed across his mind.

"Did you reach out to her after that? Tell her you regretted it?" Kainalu cocked a brow, his face now fighting off a look of judgment. 

"Trust me, she never wants to speak to me again. She made that very clear." 

His son sighed, shoulders dipping. He came around the counter so he stood only a foot away, his hands coming up to grip Clayton's shoulders. He gave him a small jostle, dipping his head so he could look his father in the eyes as he said his parting words. 

"Dad, I know you don't have much good experience with women, especially ones from my generation, but usually when they say 'don't chase me' that usually means they want you to chase them." 

Clayton stewed over those words for days after, not quite sure what he should do with them. Wasn't it too late now? It had been months since that night, surely if he went to her now she would close the door on him. Reject him the way he had rejected her. Perhaps truly keep her word and ruin him. 

But he couldn't help wonder if maybe you'd already chosen to forgive him and were just waiting for him to realize. To stand in front of her and not hold back, to let her in completely and not hide who he was. Allow himself to be loved despite his flaws and the darkness of his past. 

All of that dwelling and pondering was put to the side with the Tsunami warning that had sounded at 5AM one Thursday morning. Clayton had just managed to fall asleep a few hours before when his phone blew up with the notification. He stumbled out of bed in a daze, typing out a text to his assistant to gather everyone and get them to the office, including the North Shore rescue unit. 

Within the next hour chaos had fully descended. Computers were tracking position of the storm, units were being sent out to make sure no early risers had decided they wanted to get some quiet beach time in. Alerts were sent out to evacuate on foot and head to higher ground, phones were ringing off the hook and Clayton felt like a rope being used in a game of tug of war. 

He'd only managed to get a quick glimpse of you before you were sent out on patrol, his heart racing at the thought of you out there and so close to danger. He knew you could handle yourself, you were smart and good at what you did. But he couldn't seem to shake the feeling of dread that now weighed down on him. 

Hours passed now with no sign of the tsunami veering off course. It still seemed to be heading towards them but they were making good time in getting people to safety and for that Clayton was glad. 

That feeling didn't last long before his son came stumbling in an hour later, out of breath and a look of horror on his face. 

"Kai, what's wrong?" He was there, grabbing onto his son's shoulder's to steady him. It took a moment for Kainalu to catch his breath enough to find the words. 

"I-It all happened s-so fast." The feeling of dread slowly started creeping up on him again as his son continued. "There were people in the water, we tried telling them to get out but they wouldn't listen." 

That's when Clayton remembered Kainalu and you had been put on patrol together. He looked past his son to the door way, praying to whatever powers may be that you'd be standing there. Except you weren't, the door way remained empty. His eyes found his son's again, a look of sorrow and terror stared back at him and Clayton swore he'd never get out of his head. 

"She went in after them and they managed to get out. But neither of us noticed the cross sea in the water."  No. No. No. 

"Where is she?" His voice was so weak, the sound just above a whisper and trembling. 

"The w-waves swept her under. She didn't come b-back up." 

Clayton fell to his knees, fingers laced through his curls. Violent sobs wracked through him, all the words he'd likely never get to say to you flashed through his mind. He could barely make out the string of apologies coming from his son, or the feeling of Kainalu's body coming over him to shield him from prying eyes. 

The last thing Clayton saw behind his closed eyes was the slow stretch of your smile and the ringing of your laughter in his ears before everything went dark. 

[lostinthefandoms11]

So like that was rude 😭

I’m gonna be sick 😭😭😭😭

[disc80s]

hot girl summer but only in air conditioned spaces

[pipersjeep]

Piper Halliwell in They're Everywhere

[starlithatosy]

Out of Touch

clayton emerson x younger female reader

Summary: Clayton Emerson is in need of a house sitter while he's off on business on one of the other islands. Who better for the job than his much younger situationship?

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: Age gap (mid 20s x 50s), implied power imbalance, yearning, angst, unrequited love, spanking, oral sex (performed on reader), fingering (performed on reader), penetrative sex (piv), unprotected sex, cream pie, mention of death, mention of divorce.

Author's Note: This is my first (published) fanfic since 2020 so please be kind to me. I'm a little rusty. I obviously don't know much about living in Hawaii or being a life guard so take all of that with a grain of salt. This is mostly just for funsies anyway! I also plan on writing a part two so don't hate me too much with that ending. Enjoy!

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You didn't know exactly what you were expecting to come out of Clayton Emerson's mouth as the two of you were laid up in a tangle of limbs and bare flesh in your bed but it definitely wasn't "Will you house sit for me while I'm in Hilo?" 

Never once in the two years since you started whatever this thing was between you, had he ever personally invited you into his home. 

It was always hotel rooms outside of town or in the back of his Jeep in some remote location out in the forest where no one would walk by and see the Mayor of Honolulu fucking someone over twenty years younger than he was and definitely shouldn't be with in that regard. 

You had even started having him at your place when your roommate went on her monthly "work trips" with her boss. It made you feel guilty to keep her in the dark given that she and her boss were having a full blown affair and probably wouldn't judge you in the slightest. 

But you just couldn't bring yourself to tell her that you let the man who runs this town come inside you several times a week. And that maybe you were starting to develop feelings you shouldn't be.

You found out quickly that you loved him there, in your bedroom, best. Under the dull glow of your fairy lights, amongst the things that showcased who you were to your core. 

He'd taken his time his first visit studying all the photos scattered in various surfaces of your room. The life you lived outside of your little bubble, family photos from a childhood that felt so far away now. Posters from bands you no longer listened to but still kept up for nostalgia mingled with ones of artists that now frequented your music apps and of movies you loved. 

You watched him make his way through the museum of your life, his face softening on a picture of you as a child with your siblings, your front teeth missing but that hadn't stopped you from smiling so hard your face might split. 

Clayton had always been attractive to you. It drove you mad most days. You knew from the moment you saw him that you had to have him in some way. Any way he was willing to give himself. But he'd never been more mesmerizing than here in this room. 

It wasn't lost on you how out of place he was amongst your things. Realistically he shouldn't be there at all, the definition of taboo and crossing lines, but you couldn't help the warm feeling that came over you. Especially when he looked at you with so much adoration and heat.

You'd rode him to madness that night, letting whatever animal dwelled inside you free. You couldn't get enough, each wave of pleasure he'd pounded into your body making you crave more. 

And he always matched your energy, always knew what your body needed before you even knew yourself. The two of you just fit so perfectly and you figured it was why you could never really put an end to things. 

You both had tried on a few occasions, knowing deep down things could never really work long term but it only took a couple weeks of being away from each other for one of you to cave and end up back here. 

But never had he extended things to his personal home. Not even his office in town. It was a line he had drawn firmly when you two started seeing each other. At the time you had no problem with it, perfectly content to be his dirty little secret and meeting up at whatever address he'd text you to be at. 

This was doomed from the start. But you never once hesitated when he called and definitely never let yourself believe that just because he had grown softer in the last two years that it changed anything.

You'd been in his home exactly one time, a few months into your rendezvous, for an appreciation dinner he hosted for the North Shore rescue unit. It had been an eventful but over all successful summer. The death count that year had been the lowest it had been in the last fifteen years and the Mayor thought it was worth the recognition. 

You thought about not going, remembering the hard boundary he had made a few months prior. Technically you were invited, the whole unit had been and it might raise more questions if you bailed on an event hosted by the most important man in town. Deciding to just go in the end, you tried your best to keep scarce and out of his way, not wanting to draw too much attention to yourself. 

He had been cold with you that night, his usually softened demeanor around you was replaced with a stoic and guarded one, eyes like ice and face like stone. Only directed at you and you couldn't help the pinch in your chest being on the receiving end of it. 

When he wasn't shooting daggers at you, he was pretending that you didn't exist. Like the two of you didn't know each other's bodies inside and out by then. You reminded yourself that you knew what this was from the beginning, that he wasn't the gentle, romantic relationship type. That the two of you were merely using each other as a way to find release. 

It was all you'd ever be to each other and you had half a thought that this was him reminding you of that fact. 

You had cut out early, having made your appearance and just wanted to get out of those clothes and hunker down in the comfort of your home. Your shower was extra long that night, taking your time to scrub away the day so you could start anew, refreshed and clean. 

What you weren't expecting was the five texts and three missed phone calls from Clayton Emerson when you got out. 

C.E.: Did you leave already? 

C.E.: You didn't even say goodbye. 

C.E.: Are you ignoring me now? 

C.E.: If you're upset I would much rather you tell me instead of whatever this silent treatment is. 

C.E.: Listen, I'm sorry. Please come over and let me make it up to you. I'm at our usual spot. Please don't keep me waiting. 

You did in fact, keep him waiting. Not having the mental strength to face him. Exhaustion was gnawing at your bones and you decided that you'd face him when you were better rested and prepared for whatever he would throw your way. 

Plus, you couldn't really have that much of an affect on him, could you? He was the fucking mayor, a good looking one at that. He probably had a line of willing potential partners he could fill his time with. Your stomach turned to acid at the thought and you banished it as quickly as it came. 

You learned the next day how wrong you were when he had shown up at your work under the guise of checking in and making sure any comments or concerns could be addressed. 

He couldn't keep his eyes off you, ones that you noticed were a little wild and out of control. His usually perfectly kept hair was disheveled, like he'd tossed and turned all night and hadn't bothered to tame it before he left the house. Even his navy blue Hawaiian shirt was wrinkled and the buttons weren't perfectly lined up. 

Something was wrong and you cursed whatever it was for pulling at your heart strings. 

You were loading up your car to head out for the day when suddenly he was there, standing so close you could make out every color that was encased in his eyes. Butterflies started doing laps in your stomach and just being this close to him always made heat pool deep within you. 

"You never showed up. Never answered my texts or calls." His voice was shaking, like he was trying with all his power not to completely lose it. 

"I was tired and didn't feel like talking. Sorry." You shrugged, stowing away a pair of life jackets in the back seat. 

"Then be tired and quiet where I can at least see you." You paused at the words, not used to the man being vulnerable. His eyes took on that puppy dog look and you felt your walls slowly chipping away. 

"You getting soft on me, Emerson?" Your heart clenched at the idea of him caring more about you than he'd always led on. 

"I just…..don't like the idea of you being upset. Especially not with me. I know I'm an asshole, my son tells me any chance he can. His mother too. And I know I was coming on strong last night but…." He stopped, his features twisting in a battle of emotions. 

This was hard for him, being so exposed emotionally. You wondered how many people got to see this side of him. 

"But what?" You prodded, looking at him with encouragement. 

"But I have a hard time controlling myself when you're around. You looked so beautiful and all I wanted to do was throw you over my shoulder, take you to my room and fuck you until the sun came up. Not sit around and talk about the same old issues I hear about twenty times a day. Or about the weather or sports or any of that mundane nonsense. And having you there, looking like absolute sin and not being able to do anything about it made me wanna rip my hair out." 

You were embarrassed by how quickly you'd caved. Telling him to come over later that night so you could really talk it out. Except there was nothing to talk about, you'd already decided to forgive him. 

The sex that night had been unreal. Something had shifted with his confession. His body moved differently, the aching sweetness of his aftercare and the way he held onto you like you might disappear as you slept. And that had been the norm for you from then on. 

"You want me to house sit?" You repeated, shifting your head so you could look him in the eyes. 

"Yes." He stated simply, like this wasn't a huge deal. 

"You want me in your house?" You had a hard time convincing yourself you'd indeed heard him correctly.

"You've been in my house before." He frowned, running his fingertips up and down your spine. 

"Once. And you weren't exactly warm and welcoming then." His frown deepened, his hand pausing for a moment before continuing. 

"A fact that I feel I've more than made up for." He had, he really fucking had. 

"Don't you have people already who can watch your house while you're gone?" 

"I do, but I've been meaning to give them some time off. And I already asked Kainalu and that was a flat out no. You're the only other person I trust." 

"My plan to steal all your belongings and sell them on Facebook Marketplace and Criagslist is all coming together." You rubbed your palms together and let out mock maniacal laughter. He chuckled in return, placing a kiss on the crown of your head. 

"Take it all, my ex wife picked out most of that stuff anyway." You kept your body from reacting. The subject of his ex had been a sore one, something he didn't really like getting into but had let slip from time to time. 

You respected that, honestly not in any mood to hear about the woman he'd once promised forever to, had a child with. It made your chest ache in ways you had never experienced before for reasons you'd likely never admit to him. 

"You really trust me with this?" You peered up at him and he peered back at you for a moment before a soft smile stretched on his face.

"I do." 

And that's where you now found yourself, alone in that big house of his. He'd shown you around briefly, giving you a set of rules and expectations and numbers to the front gate where his security would be. He'd had the fridge and pantry fully stocked for you to use, every streaming service under the sun at your disposal. All he asked was that you water the plants and keep things tidy. 

The seriousness of his face and the professional air of his tone was deeply amusing to you. You found yourself swallowing back laughter and grinning as soon as his back was turned. 

You couldn't shake the look of tenderness on his face or the intensity of the way he'd kissed you goodbye before he'd left. Or the way he said he'd selfishly wanted you here so he knew where you'd be and he didn't have to worry so much while he was miles away and couldn't reach you as easily. You thought it was silly since you risked your life daily for a living but you let him have it. 

It wasn't the first time he'd shown that side of himself to you but it always caught you off guard. Made you believe that maybe he did have feelings for you, wanted something more than just sex. You never let yourself fall too deeply into that train of thought. You knew better than to actually think that would be true. 

When you weren't out on the beach pulling people out of near death experiences, patching up wounds and filling out paperwork, you were basking in the comfortable silence of Clayton's home. 

You had to travel about two miles through his farm land to reach the house, nestled away near the tree line of the forest. The closest neighbor was about four miles away and with the temporary dismissal of his staff, aside from a few security guards, you were completely alone. 

You utilized the massive kitchen, one you'd dreamed of having one day when you saved up enough money to set down roots somewhere. You loved to cook and bake just as much as you loved being out in those waters and helping people. It was in your blood, a perfect mix of both of your parents. 

Your father was a chef, owned his own restaurant on the other side of the island and taught you his craft from the time you could hold a spatula firmly in your little hand. Your mother had been a Life Guard, spent time up here in her youth doing the same line of work before heading down south to settle down and raise a family. She had been your inspiration to follow the same path. 

You'd been meaning to try out a few recipes you'd seen online but didn't have the patience or time to do in your little apartment kitchen. But with all this space, you figured why not? You quickly wondered why you'd deprived yourself of this joy. It made you miss your father and you made a mental note to give him a call the following day. 

When you were done, you'd nuzzle up on the couch and watched movies you'd been meaning to watch but again, never found the time to settle in. 

I could get used to this. The thought was there before you could stop it, your chest tightening and your face heating. You shook your head in hopes it would magically make the thought disappear. Stupid, there's nothing to get used to. He'll be rushing you out of here the second he gets back. 

You were careful not to get too comfortable after that. 

You had opted for the guest bedroom, even though he said you could take his bed. You didn't want to be amongst his things, his scent surely lingering on those sheets. It would make you miss him more than you already did, a feeling you should not be having. Best to keep some level of separation. 

Clayton would check in twice a day. Once in the morning before you headed out to work, you wondered how he knew to time it so perfectly, and once after dinner. 

The conversations never lasted long and he didn't bother with small talk. Just wanted to know if there was any concerns or things he should know about before wishing you a good day or night and hanging up. You tried not to let it affect you, you were used to his frigidness by now. 

About two weeks into your house sitting gig, you'd had a particularly bad day. It started with a stubbed toe on your way out the door, after you were late getting up and it had spiraled out of control from there. 

The waves were violent that day. People were stupid enough to think they could handle them when in reality, they couldn't. You and your team had pulled out a dozen people that day, one of them hadn't made it. 

You took a bath that night. Bubbles, Epsom salt, the works. The water so hot even the Devil would be concerned. You stayed in there so long your body was practically a raisin, scrubbed red and raw. 

When you got out, you decided to do something you hadn't dared to once during your time here. But the events of the day had worn down your mental walls and you just wanted to be close to him. 

You slowly opened his bedroom door, peaking your head around to peer into the dark space, like you were expecting him to be there and catch you in the act. It was empty, obviously, the bed made up and untouched. The glow of the moon bathed the room in silver, coming in through the row of windows above his bed. 

You didn't let your eyes linger on it for too long, you had a mission. 

Opening the door all the way and flicking on the light, you slowly entered. Your eyes landed on a set of double doors and you made your way over to them, opening them to see your intuition had been correct. 

There hung a neat row of Hawaiian shirts, all the same color pallette of blue but each with their own unique patterns. Your heart melted at the sight of them, you hadn't realized how much you had missed them. You picked a random one from the middle, unbuttoning it and slipping it on. 

You didn't bother buttoning it up again nor did you put anything else on. You brought the fabric up to your nose, inhaling deeply and you swore you could weep as his scent hit you. 

You quietly exited, not wanting to linger any longer in the room and padded down the hall to the living room. The air against your practically bare flesh felt good after your bath, your nipples starting to harden beneath the fabric of Clayton's shirt. 

Without even thinking, you found yourself in front of his shelves full of records. Your fingers ran along the spines, eyes moving slowly along with them until you found something that piqued your interest. 

It was on the third shelf that you found exactly what would do the trick. You carefully pulled it out of its spot, not wanting anything to damage it. Slipping it out of its casing, you placed it into the record player, adjusted the needle to where you wanted it and turned it on. 

The intro beats to Hall & Oat's Out of Touch began to sound through the speakers and it was like the music possessed you. It started in your hips, swinging and circling back and fourth to the sound. Then your body began to roll, arms stretched up into the air. You spun around the room, letting the music move through you. 

You threw your head back and began to belt out the words, moving into the kitchen to make yourself a before bed treat. You began taking out the necessary ingredients and setting off to work. 

You were so in your element, on a whole other planet, that you didn't hear the sound of tires coming up the drive, the slam of a driver's side door nor the opening and closing of the front entrance. Not even the stomping of boots coming down the corridor. 

What broke your spell had been the feeling on the back of your neck that you were being watched. Not necessarily in a concerning way but you knew that you weren't alone. 

You looked around, your eyes catching on a figure lounging with a shoulder against the doorframe, arms crossed and a smirk on it's face. It took you a moment to register what, or rather who, you were looking at. 

You stopped abruptly, your breath hitching and heart began to thump against your ribcage. 

You had forgotten in the last several days exactly what he had looked like. It was like the image in your mind didn't perfectly describe the different shades of gray that made up that head of thick curls, how deep the lines on his face were or the exact pattern of freckles that splattered across his skin. 

Devastatingly handsome and here. There was no stopping the storm of butterflies raging through your stomach or the fact that being so exposed and perceived had made you wet in an instant. 

"You're home. I thought you'd be gone for another week at least." You barely made out, not able to take your eyes off of the man. 

"Luckily we got what we needed and were able to wrap things up early." He replied, pushing off the doorframe and coming closer, eyes like a predator that had locked in on it's prey. 

"That's g-good!" You stammered, busying yourself with cleaning up the mess you'd made of the kitchen, trying to settle your heart as he stepped closer and closer. "I'll just tidy up and be out of your hair. I'm sure you're exhausted and want some quiet." 

You yelped when you felt a set of rough palms against the flesh of your hips. Suddenly pressed firmly against his front, his breath so close you could smell the saltiness of the ocean, mint and a hint of bourbon. It made your head swim and you found yourself once again locked by his gaze. 

"Surely you're not trying to leave. Not after that show you just put on." His octave had lowered into something sensual and raspy and his eyes had gone completely black. His right hand had moved from your hip, fingers running over the material of his shirt that didn't do a very good job at covering your body. "This looks good on you." 

"It's very comfortable. I get why you own a million of them." Clayton chucked, both hands now moving their way up your torso, past your stomach and ribcage, parting the fabric more so your nipples were exposed to him. Involuntarily your chest pressed forward, a silent plea for him to wrap those pretty lips around the sensitive flesh. 

His smile widened at the action, his eyes flicking up to yours for a brief moment before dipping back down to your breasts. But his lips didn't go where you so badly wanted them to, instead you jolted in shock when his mouth was suddenly against yours. His tongue caressed your bottom lip and you didn't hesitate to part them to let him in. 

He groaned like a man starved, hands coming around to smooth down the column of your back until they gripped firmly on your ass. Your answering moan set him to action and suddenly you were airborne, legs wrapped around his waist as he moved in a direction you couldn't be bothered to figure out. 

You heard the opening of a door and then your back against something soft and padded. He broke the kiss then to admire you laid out on what you now realized was his bed. He studied you for a moment, eyes roaming over every inch. 

"You drive me insane, you know that?" He said after a beat of silence. 

"Is that so?" You blushed, not bothering to fight the grin on your face. 

"You know you do. I can't get you out of my head. Took everything in me not to race back here every time I heard your voice on the damn phone." He had his palms on your feet now, massaging all the way up to your calves. 

"That explains the formality of those calls then." You rested the bottoms of your feet against his chest as he worked the knots out of your muscles. 

"If I'd let myself stay on the phone longer than that, I never would've gotten anything done." He'd continued his journey north, reaching the spot where your knees bent and slowly spreading your legs. That wild look in his eyes he'd get when he had you like this was present, though there was a hint of something else there that you couldn't pin point. 

"Do I really affect you that much?" It took everything in you to keep your voice level while he dropped to his knees before you, hands gripping under your hips and sliding your ass to the edge of the bed. Your core clenched at the anticipation and the way he starting planting lazy kisses on the insides of your thighs. 

He didn't answer, too lost in his mission now. He slowly drew closer to that spot between your thighs that now ached with need. You tried to suppress your huffs of impatience, your hips tilting up in hopes it would speed things along. 

It did the opposite, he took even longer. Switching to your other thigh and repeating the action seemingly even slower this time. His eyes were on you, a small tug at the corner of his mouth told you he was thoroughly enjoying torturing you. 

"Did you miss me?" He drawled between kisses, sucking on your skin in a way that you knew would leave behind a trail of marks. 

"Not at all." Your voice was thick, weak with lust. 

"Fucking. Liar." He growled, biting down lightly on your flesh but hard enough to make you squeak with surprise. "Let's try that again. Did. You. Miss. Me?" 

His movements paused just over your slick center, you could feel the hotness of his breath there as he exhaled. He rose a brow in challenge, daring you to lie again. In no mood to be a brat tonight, you nodded your head. 

"Uh, uh. I need to hear you say it, sweetheart." 

"I missed you." The words had barely left your lips when he descended on you. Tongue sweeping out to lick from your asshole, up your folds to your clit and back down. He repeated the action a few times, warming you up. 

You threw your head back when he took your clit into his mouth and started sucking, a palm spread out over the expanse of your stomach holding you in place. His other hand gripped onto your thigh and keeping you from trying to close your legs. 

You let out a guttural whine, his thumb replacing his tongue so it could plunge itself inside you and lap at your entrance like it was water and he'd walked through a desert to find it. You laced your fingers through his silver curls, massaging your finger tips against his scalp. You felt his groan of approval vibrate through you. 

Soon his thick fingers took place of his tongue, pushing into you and hooking one at a time. He stroked slowly at that spot inside of you, his lips once again sucking at your clit, before gradually increasing in pace. 

It took no time at all to draw out your first orgasm and you didn't brother keeping quiet. You'd still been coming down from your high and hadn't processed that he'd moved away and started his ascent upwards. You whimpered as his mouth found the hard peaks of your breasts, finally giving them the attention they'd been craving. 

Your hands gripped onto his shoulders, digging into the fabric there and it dawned on you then that he was still fully dressed, shoes and all. This simply won't do. 

"Clayton." You practically whispered, your voice already starting to grow horse. All he'd responded with was a hmm? against your nipple. 

"I'm feeling a bit over dressed right now." He lifted his head to look at you, confusion on his face until it dawn on him too. He pulled away from you, getting up off the bed with a grumble. Old man, you chuckled in your head. 

He started pealing out of his layers in that same leisurely manner he'd been using all night. You propped up on your elbows, your legs still spread and ready to welcome back, and enjoyed the view. 

You bit your lip once the solid plains of his chest came into view and the path of thick muscle leading in an arrow down to the band of his dress pants. He dropped down in a squat, started untying his laces and tugging of his shoes, never once breaking eye contact. 

Your cheeks began to heat at the way he watched you, drifting back and fourth between your face and cunt, still so fucking wet and ready for him. You clenched around air, that ache pounding like a heartbeat at your core. 

His grin grew, he'd seen it happened and was totally storing it wherever his ego was kept. He started to make work of his pants, still not in any hurry. He loved watching you squirm. Growing annoyed and desperate and ready to beg for him. 

He stepped out of his pants, leaving him in nothing but a pair of tight navy boxer briefs. You could see the hard line of his length, already swollen and leaking. He hooked his thumbs in the elastic but didn't move to tug them off. 

Your awaiting gaze lifted and you found him staring at you, eyes impossibly darker. You began fidgeting under his heated stare, breathing heavily. You knew what he wanted and you were so god damn prepared to give it to him. 

"Please give me your cock, Sir." You pouted, legs parting wider for him. 

"Good girl." He drew his boxers down, exposing the patch of trimmed salt and pepper hair there, your mouth beginning to water. You let out a soft gasp as his cock sprang free, your walls squeezing together like your pussy was greeting him like an old friend. 

He threw the fabric somewhere out of your line of vision, and prowled back to where you laid on the bed. Then he was over you, his head coming down to claim your lips again, your tongues twisting in tandem. He pressed his body against yours and the friction against your nipples made your eyes roll. 

You felt the hot weight of his length laying on your stomach, slowly sliding down as he began to shift his hips. You lifted yours slightly, positioning your core so it was in the direct path of his tip. He slid up the length of you, nudging against your clit. You whimpered as he repeated the action until you had to reiterate your earlier request. 

"Please give me your cock, Sir." You panted into his mouth, palms gliding down the expanse of his back. 

"I haven't forgotten, sweetheart." And there he was, pressing his tip against your entrance but not moving forward. He lifted his head away from your kiss, watching your face intently. You watched him back, reveling in the way the moonlight brightened the color of his hazel eyes. He was breathtaking and devastating all at once and- 

Your train of though was cut short by the cry of pleasure that ripped out of your chest as he fully sheathed himself inside of you. His slow tempo gone with the wind, he pulled back and rolled his hips forward and he was off. 

The only sound in the room was the wetness of his cock plunging in and out of you, the smack of bare skin on bare skin and heavy breathing. 

You weren't entirely sure where to put your hands, gripping onto anything you could as that familiar wave of pleasure crashed over you. You'd missed this, swore you could spend a life time getting lost in it. 

He threw your legs over his shoulders, pulling back so he could watch your face screwed up in euphoria as he fucked you deeper. "That good, baby? You like that?" 

"Fuck yes." You weren't even sure if you were speaking clearly but you knew he was hitting that spot inside of you dead on and it wouldn't be long before you were clenching around his girth. 

"Oh yes, baby. There it is." He didn't stop pounding into you as you came undone. He dipped his head to plant chaste kisses on your cheeks, nose and lastly your lips. "Such a good girl, aren't you?" 

You nodded your head in a drunken daze, his voice sounded distant but you knew he was right there with you, ready to catch you if you fell into madness. He slowed his pace, kissing his way down your throat to your collarbones and back again. 

"I want to ride you. Please let me ride you." You begged, kissing his shoulder. You squeaked as he flipped the two of you over, his cock staying buried inside you. You adjusted yourself on top of him and his hands were firmly back on your ass, slowly massaging his finger tips into the skin there. 

Once you felt you'd gotten yourself into a comfortable position, you steadied your hands on his chest and slowly rolled your hips forward, then off to the left, down, right and back forward again. 

Clayton's hands slid up to rest on your hips, helping to guide yourself against his cock. "C'mon, baby. I know you can do better than that." 

You looked down at him with a shit eating grin. "I don't know. You should probably take it easy, Old Man. I think I noticed a new wrinkle on your face and your hair is looking more white than gray these days." 

He bucked his hips up in a solid swift motion, his thighs smacking hard against your ass. The sound reverberated through the room followed by your surprised gasp. You grumbled, pressing down on his chest and shooting him a glare. 

"I think you're forgetting this isn't exactly our first rodeo." He shot back, his hips thrusting again, gentler this time. 

"Hmmm, I don't think I can recall. But if you're sure you can handle me," You shrugged, positioning yourself forward and lifted yourself off of him until all that was left inside you was the tip of his cock. "So be it." 

You slammed down on his length hard and fast, lifting your self back up and doing it again. You'd messed around with different speeds until you found one you could keep up with. 

Clayton's hold on you was so strong you wouldn't be surprised if his hand prints were visible there in the morning. You came at the sound of him whimpering uncontrollably, unable to form words. You threw your head back, grind yourself down on him as you came back down. 

"Turn around. Get on your hands and knees." It was an order and you could feel your heart beat in your ears. He was about the thoroughly ruin you. 

You wasted no time getting into position, your spine curving inward so your ass was perked up perfectly for him. You could feel him shifting behind you, positioning himself back at your entrance. 

He spread his hand out at the small of your back, the other coming around to draw slow circles against your clit. You hummed contently, nudging your ass back a fraction. There was a sharp slap against your ass cheek that made your pussy clench at the sting. 

"So fucking impatient." He said it so tenderly, like it was a praise instead of the scold you knew it was.

You kept yourself still despite wanting nothing more than to press back and onto his cock. He didn't make you wait long before he bent over you, planting soft kisses down your spine and slowly pressed himself between your folds. 

You both let out a sigh in unison as he sank back into your wet heat. He rested his forehead against your shoulder, cursing and mumbling as he fucked you into near delirium. 

He used his knee to spread your legs father apart and forced your head down into the mattress. The position and the speed in which he was pounding into you made his balls swing and slap perfectly against your clit. 

Another orgasm ripped out of you but you barely had enough time to stew in it before he had you on your back again. 

You could tell he was close, his thrusts growing sloppy and less calculated. He was also getting louder, your name like a prayer or an answer so some unknown question on his lips. 

Watching him come undone like this was your favorite sight in the whole world. You could get drunk off if it, spend the rest of your days just like this. You didn't want anything, anyone more than you wanted him. 

It scared you, overwhelmed you so deeply that you could feel tears pool at your eyes and slide down your cheeks. He leaned forward, licking your tears away before resting his forehead against yours. 

The eye contact. The thoughts racing through your head. The death you'd encountered earlier that day making you realize just how short life was. The fact that he was finally taking you in the one place he swore he never would. The wave of another orgasm. The feeling of him spilling inside of you. It all became too much. 

You couldn't stop the words that shot out of you if you tried. 

"I love you." 

It was like someone hit pause on the world, this moment. Everything stilled and quieted and you swore the violent beat of your heart could be heard through the entire island. 

You dared a look at his face and froze. A mask void of emotion, glacial and removed and looking somewhere past you. 

"C-Clayton?" Your voice shook, the rest of your body following suit and it had nothing to do with your climax. 

His eyes slowly focused on you again, but there was no change in his face. He slowly pealed himself off of you, the loss of him leaving you raw and empty. 

He put distance between himself and the bed where you laid still as a rock. "You need to leave." 

"Clayton." You whispered, sitting up and trying to cover yourself with his shirt that was now hanging off your shoulders. 

"Now." You realized then you'd never actually seen him be cold and distant. All those other times you could still feel some sort of ardency underneath the surface. 

But this, it was like he'd completely switched himself off. 

"Please. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I just got caught up in the moment." You tried to plead but it fell on deaf ears. 

"I'll get one of the security guards to drive you home. You have ten minutes." He turned and left the room without another word. 

Violent sobs wracked through you, vision going blurry from tears. You adjusted his shirt so you were as covered as possible, his scent stinging your nose and making you nauseous as you made a beeline for the guest room. 

It was like you blacked out. Suddenly fully dressed, your duffel bag packed and swinging over your shoulder. You barreled out of the bedroom and didn't stop until you felt the cool air of the outdoors fan over you. 

You gasped for breath, struggling to get air into your lungs. You heard the opening of the front door and a distant voice which sent you bolting away to escape from this hell you'd put yourself in. 

You heard a car door, moving gravel and the sound of an engine coming up behind you. Lights stretched out around you and you wanted to scream until your head exploded. 

"Where the fuck are you going?" Clayton demanded from somewhere next to you. 

"You t-told me to leave so I'm l-leaving." You muttered between sobs. 

"I told you I'd have security take you back." 

"I don't want your fucking security. I don't want anything from you." It was a lie and you both knew it and you wanted so badly to hit something. Anything that would release the fire building inside you.

"You're not walking home. It'll take you hours to get to your place." You stopped abruptly, swinging to face him. He made quick time in hitting the breaks and halting the car. 

You stepped up to his window, leaning forward and got in his face. 

"I never want to see you again, do you understand me? Don't fucking follow me or I swear to God I will ruin you." You'd never spoken to anyone with so much venom and distaste in your life. 

He had the audacity to look wounded and regretful, his mouth opening to say something but closed again at the silent warning on your face. 

You turned away, continuing your walk of shame. You heard the car rolling backwards and turn around back up the drive to the house.

Your heart ripped apart in your chest as he once again disappointed you. 

He truly didn't love you, wasn't ever going to fight for you and that reality drove a knife into your heart and stayed with you long after you crawled into bed and everything went dark. 

You wouldn't realize until you'd awoken after almost a full day of sleep that you were still wearing that stupid Hawaiian shirt. 

[lostinthefandoms11]

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[faermaiden]

AIDAN TURNER AS DECLAN O'HARA in rivals 2.05

[imissthembutitwasntadisaster]

I hope I'm not just a mutual to you, but someone you want to bring up in irl conversation so you have to awkwardly and cryptically say "my friend..." and refuse to elaborate on my origins or the origins of our friendships

[oldmanpusspuss]

genuinely how it feels posting some fuckass thing nobody else gaf about

[lauraneedstochill]

BRETT RICHARDS in “FIRE COUNTRY” S4EP19 (▶prev gifs with Brett)

[unwastelandunbaby]

how I look at my big age trying not to let stupid shit hurt my feelings

[wordfather]

not my circus not my monkeys but thanks to my mutuals i know some of the lore

[lindsayerins]

SOPHIA BUSH as ERIN LINDSAY CHICAGO PD — 1.06, Conventions

[atleastimprettyugly]

Shawn Hatosy x Quinn

[bucky-barnez]

sebastian stan as bucky barnes

the falcon and the winter soldier (2021)

thunderbolts* (2025)

[sammy-bryant]

[science-hoes]

world’s sexiest jester