Hi! So I just had to drop in to let you know that I just found your hockey writing and I have DEVOURED your pieces. Great job and hope you continue to write!
Other Words for "Look" + With meanings | List for writers
Many people create lists of synonyms for the word 'said,' but what about the word 'look'? Here are some synonyms that I enjoy using in my writing, along with their meanings for your reference. While all these words relate to 'look,' they each carry distinct meanings and nuances, so I thought it would be helpful to provide meanings for each one.
Gaze - To look steadily and intently, especially in admiration or thought.
Glance - A brief or hurried look.
Peek - A quick and typically secretive look.
Peer - To look with difficulty or concentration.
Scan - To look over quickly but thoroughly.
Observe - To watch carefully and attentively.
Inspect - To look at closely in order to assess condition or quality.
Stare - To look fixedly or vacantly at someone or something.
Glimpse - To see or perceive briefly or partially.
Eye - To look or stare at intently.
Peruse - To read or examine something with great care.
Scrutinize - To examine or inspect closely and thoroughly.
Behold - To see or observe a thing or person, especially a remarkable one.
Witness - To see something happen, typically a significant event.
Spot - To see, notice, or recognize someone or something.
Contemplate - To look thoughtfully for a long time at.
Sight - To suddenly or unexpectedly see something or someone.
Ogle - To stare at in a lecherous manner.
Leer - To look or gaze in an unpleasant, malicious way.
Gawk - To stare openly and stupidly.
Gape - To stare with one's mouth open wide, in amazement.
Squint - To look with eyes partially closed.
Regard - To consider or think of in a specified way.
Admire - To regard with pleasure, wonder, and approval.
Skim - To look through quickly to gain superficial knowledge.
Reconnoiter - To make a military observation of a region.
Flick - To look or move the eyes quickly.
Rake - To look through something rapidly and unsystematically.
Glare - To look angrily or fiercely.
Peep - To look quickly and secretly through an opening.
Focus - To concentrate one's visual effort on.
Discover - To find or realize something not clear before.
Spot-check - To examine something briefly or at random.
Devour - To look over with eager enthusiasm.
Examine - To inspect in detail to determine condition.
Feast one's eyes - To look at something with great enjoyment.
Catch sight of - To suddenly or unexpectedly see.
Clap eyes on - To suddenly see someone or something.
Set eyes on - To look at, especially for the first time.
Take a dekko - Colloquial for taking a look.
Leer at - To look or gaze in a suggestive manner.
Rubberneck - To stare at something in a foolish way.
Make out - To manage to see or read with difficulty.
Lay eyes on - To see or look at.
Pore over - To look at or read something intently.
Ogle at - To look at in a lecherous or predatory way.
Pry - To look or inquire into something in a determined manner.
Dart - To look quickly or furtively.
Drink in - To look at with great enjoyment or fascination.
Bask in - To look at or enjoy something for a period of time.
Calling all aspiring storytellers with hearts full of whimsy! Get ready to sprinkle a touch of enchantment into your scenes with my Scene Wo
683 members, 435 posts about #creative writing #creative writers #helping writers • Guiding Writers to New Heights
It's here! Thank you to everyone who participated in this challenge. It's been so much fun to watch these songs come to life and I hope y'all had a blast! Huge and eternal thank you to @wyattjohnston for partnering with me on this and helping provide a lot of wisdom and organization behind the scenes.
Below is the official masterlist of Eras Tour fics, sorted alphabetically by player. I've also included a little key if you're interested in songs from specific albums.
I Almost Do by @comphy-and-cozy (Song: I Almost Do ❤️)
Jack Hughes
red by @hockeyboistrash (Song: Red ❤️)
I Know Places by @hischierhoney (Song: I Know Places 🩵)
this love makes you come running by @jostystyles (Song: I Wish You Would 🩵)
Jamie Oleksiak
don’t forget, don’t forget about me by @laurenairay (Song: Superman 💜)
wildest dreams by @jxmieoleksiaks (Song: Wildest Dreams 🩵)
Jeremy Swayman
if you only knew by @wyattjohnston (Song: I Can See You 💜)
The Girl by @couldawouldashoulda50 (Song: Getaway Car 🖤)
can this be a real thing? can it? by @senditcolton (Song: Snow At the Beach 💙)
Jordan Kyrou
you all over me by @realf-ckinlegacy (Song: You All Over Me 💛)
Mat Barzal
Where Did My Baby Go? by @theemporium (Song: Coney Island 🤎)
The Moment I Knew by @fallinallincurls (Song: The Moment I Knew ❤️)
Nico Hischier
What I Didn’t Mean To Say by @puckology101 (Song: The Other Side of the Door 💛)
Quinn Hughes
gave you too much but it wasn’t enough by @snoopyhughes (Song: Death By A Thousand Cuts 🩷)
It’s Nice to Have a Friend by @ceces-obsessions (Song: It’s Nice to Have a Friend 🩷)
Sam Malinski
let it once be me by @mendeshoney (Song: The Prophecy 🤍)
Trevor Zegras
i can fix him (no really i can) by @luke-hughes43 (Song: I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can 🤍)
Teuvo Teravainen
You’re So Gorgeous by @kurlyteuvo (Song: Gorgeous 🖤)
Vince Dunn
All Too Well by @cellythefloshie (Song: All Too Well (10 minute version) ❤️)
William Nylander
All The Roads, They Lead Me Here by @thewintersoldierdisaster (Song: The Last Time ❤️)
Will Smith
wrap your arms around me, baby boy by @writingonleaves (Song: Paper Rings 🩷)
Wyatt Johnston
forever & always by @jarmorie (Song: Forever and Always 💛)
If you’ve made it this far: I’m sorry for the delay in getting this out! Tumblr was giving me issues with updating the links and I currently do not have access to a computer. Thanks for your patience!
let it once be me - s. malinski (colorado avalanche)
A/N: hello! long time no see. this was written for the "the eras tour hockeyblr fic challenge" hosted by the lovely @comphy-and-cozy and @wyattjohnston, and is inspired by the song "the prophecy" by taylor swift. thank you both for hosting this challenge and I adore y'all very much.
word count: 18,965
warnings/tags: very light and vague-ish soulmate!au, lots of angst, strangers to lovers to strangers to lovers, memory loss (random, non-illness related, part of the soulmates condition), angst with a happy ending
~
It’s almost exactly like how it happens in the movies.
And you hate it.
Time seems to slow down, your heart seems to beat slower, louder, heavier in your chest behind your ribcage. You can feel your skin getting warmer, can feel a hint of a shiver on your arms, and the way your mouth opens slightly in shock at seeing him.
It’s been two years at least since you’d seen him last. He’s still the same in so many ways.
Confident, determined, yet somehow, more free spirited.
You’re at Valley Tavern, the newest bar downtown that had just opened a month ago. You’d been there with your friends who’d been curious to know what it was like, and it seems he and his friends were the same.
There's a smile that threatens to form on your lips when you see the familiar way his friends welcome him into the bar, the excited way that they envelope him into their circle again like he never left it. You force the smile away, force your mouth shut, and school your body into neutrality as you turn back to your friends, tuning back into the conversation.
As the night progresses, there's this distinct feeling of electricity that pricks across your skin every time he gets near, when he’s just within reach but still too far away. It’s annoying, and you hate it, but the familiarity of it is something you welcome, even if you know it’ll be brief.
There's a couple of times where you make eye contact, but you only allow it for the briefest of seconds before you tear your eyes away, as if you were scanning the room for someone else. Otherwise, he lingers in your peripheral vision the entire time, but you make no effort to interact with him in any way.
It won’t matter, after all.
After all this time, he still has no idea who you are.
A couple of hours after he’s walked through the door, you're sitting with your friends at a corner booth of the bar, chatting and finishing the last of your soda when he’s the closest he’s been all night. You're sitting at one of the ends of the booth, and he and one of his buddies are chatting about a foot away from you. His friend’s back is facing you, and you can semi-hear their conversation as they catch up.
His voice is smooth, cool and unwavering as he chatters away, his friend laughing at a few things said here and there. None of what they’re saying registers to you, all of it drowned out by the conversation in the booth.
A few minutes later, when your glass is finally empty, you can feel how your social battery begins to deplete down to zero. You double check that your crossbody is still secure around you and remains unzipped, that your phone is in your pocket, before turning to your friends. You wait for a pause in the conversation, and when it comes, the very second you open your mouth to say goodbye to your friends, another voice cuts in.
His.
“Hi there.”
Your friends all blink at him, and then their heads collectively swivel to your with expectant eyes.
You turn, and to your surprise, finds that he’s looking at you with the same expectant look, only standing a couple of inches away.
“Hi,” you return, all too aware of how your voice came out much quieter than intended.
It doesn’t seem to bother him in the slightest. He gives an easy smile, sticking his hand out.
He introduces himself, saying “Hi, I’m Sam,” all that boyish charm and manly confidence etched into the smile carved out on that handsome face of his, and it would have flustered anyone else for sure, probably sent their heart racing.
But not you.
Not when you know all of his tricks by now.
The familiarity of his game eases the tension in your body, erases all the little pinpricks and lingering electricity you felt when you first saw him tonight, quickly being replaced by a calm that must seep into your features when you smile back at him. It makes him blink a bit, clearly a little stunned - by what, you aren't sure - as you take his hand and shake it, introducing yourself to him in return.
You ignore the goosebumps his touch sends up your arm.
Belatedly, you can feel the way your friends eye him, how some of them want to remind him that he’s met you before, but you know they won’t say a thing - too excited at the prospect of seeing your soulmate introduce himself to you yet again far too tempting. They’d rather see how this will play out than butt in with the facts of reality.
“It looked like you were about to head out and I didn’t want you to go without saying hello to you first.” Sam says, dropping his hand from yours and sticking it in his pocket.
The corner of your mouth threatens to quirk up in a smile as your own hand falls back into your lap.
That’s new.
“Usually people say hello at the beginning of the night, you know.” You point out, keeping your tone playful.
“True,” he nods. “I meant to, but I kept getting distracted.”
Your head tilts curiously. “By?”
“The thought about whether or not I deserved to say hello to someone as pretty as you.”
You can’t control it, the smile that creeps across your lips, and you laugh a little while your friends giggle at your side.
“Ah,” you say, nodding. “I see. So you decided that you deserved to?”
He shakes his head seriously. “No way, but I figured I’d give it a shot anyway.”
“Bold of you,” you commend. “I appreciate the confidence.”
“Do you appreciate it enough to at least let me walk you out? If you were in fact leaving, that is.”
You shrug, “Sure, why not.”
You pretend to ignore his slightly stunned expression as you stand, saying goodbye to your friends as they each climb out of the booth to give you a hug. Two of them whisper that they’ll be following behind you as he escorts you out, to which you nod and whisper a quiet ‘thank you’ in return.
You understand their concern, but you also know they’re doing it more because they’re worried for you than they are suspicious of him.
When you turn back to Sam, he’s got an excited smile on his face. He takes a step back to allow you to lead the way, and he follows close enough behind that he can help you navigate through the crowd, but he remains far enough out of your space that he’s barely touching you. His friends and teammates jest and whistle at him as he goes, some of them quietly observing, considering they definitely recognize you, but can’t do a thing about it.
Once you’re out on the street, the night breeze takes you by surprise a little, a small chill running through your body.
“Oh,” he says, then he’s shrugging off his jacket and placing it around your shoulders gently. It smells a little woody, but not overpowering.
“Thank you,” you say, “That’s kind of you.”
From behind him, you can see the way your friends linger at the entrance of the club.
“Did you need to call an Uber? Or-”
“I’m sober, I’m parked over there.” You gesture down the street with your chin at where you’d expertly parallel parked earlier in the night.
“Can I walk you to your car?” Sam offers, and you raise a brow at him playfully. He shrugs with a wolfish smile. “Just trying to earn the right to have said hello and taken up all this time of yours so far.”
You pretend to consider it, then nod. “Sure, I’ll let you walk me to my car.”
He holds his arm out for you to take, saying “This way, pretty girl.”
You loop your arm through his and try to squash down the butterflies in your stomach. This may be new territory for you, but his charm is still the same. By tomorrow, this will be another “first meeting” added to the list.
As you both get closer to your car, he hums a little, and you glance at him. “Something on your mind?”
“Would it be overstepping if I asked you out for coffee tomorrow? Or maybe brunch, if you like that sort of thing?”
You blink.
That’s…new too.
“Well. I guess that depends.” You say, digging into your purse for your keys and unlocking your car as you approach it. He reaches for your door, opening it for you, and you spin to look at him.
Huh. You think. He actually looks hopeful.
Too bad.
“Depends on?”
You smile, a slight edge to it as you shrug off his jacket, holding it in your hand.
“What’s my name?”
Sam blinks, and then he laughs a little, “Really? Is that it?”
“Part of it.” You say, holding his jacket out to him.
“What’s the other part?” He asks, then pushes his jacket back to you. “Keep it,” he insists.
You smirk, draping the jacket over one of his shoulders. “Nope, you can’t use your jacket as an excuse to see me either.”
“So it’s just your name?” He puts the jacket on, sticking his hands in the pockets. “Your name and you’ll come with me to brunch?”
“Sure,” you say with a shrug. He opens his mouth, and you can see your name is right on his lips, and you hold a hand up, effectively silencing him. “Not now.” At his confused look, you give him a small, wicked smile. “A week from now.”
Sam almost jolts, the shock written all over his face. “What?”
“If you can remember my name a week from now, if you want to have made ‘taking up all my time’ tonight worth it, then I’ll go to brunch with you. Next Saturday, eleven o’clock, at Piper’s Diner on Main Street.”
You toss your purse into your car in the passenger seat and he starts to stutter. You smirk, getting into the car, shutting the door, and rolling the window down once you start it.
He bends down to look at you, the shock still on his face. “You’re being serious?”
“Very serious.” You insist. He lets out a breath, hanging his head in disbelief. You revel in it for a second, then say his name. It gets his attention, his gaze drifting to yours, an almost hopeful twinkle to them. “If you can’t remember it, don’t bother coming.”
Sam blinks again. For a second, you expect him to say screw it, to say it’s not worth it and say thanks but no thanks and head back to the bar.
Instead, he takes you by surprise. “I’ll remember it. See you at Piper’s, pretty lady. Drive safely, okay?” He winks at you, then takes a step back from the curb and onto the sidewalk.
Cocky. You muse.
Without another word, you put your eyes to the road, putting your car in drive and pulling out of your spot, taking off down the street. You don't even bother casting a glance at him in the rearview mirror.
It won’t matter.
Like always, he won’t remember by the morning.
He never does.
~
In school, they always called it “the true test of love.”
They made it sound so romantic, so ideal.
But to you it always sounded like a curse.
“Soulmate bonds, true soulmate bonds, are rare for humans now. There are only about three types of identifying symptoms that can help to solidify that the person who is your true match is in fact, yours. The last of those three symptoms is the most common.” Your high school health teacher had explained.
“All three symptoms have to do with memory. The first symptom is memory sharing - meaning that anything your soulmate learns or begins to remember, so do you. The second deals with memories as dreams, where as you sleep, you ‘dream’ of a memory that your soulmate has. Now these symptoms aren’t as frequent, or as common, but they do happen, and it’s just as it sounds. The third symptom is the most common.”
What she didn’t say was that it was also the most unfortunate, frustrating, and useless symptom known to humankind.
It dealt with memory loss. Specifically, memory loss regarding their soulmate.
It was ridiculous and cruel. To think that you’d meet the person destined for you, to be with for the rest of your lives and every life after, and all they can do is forget you.
“It only happens to one soulmate, not both. But, if you do have a soulmate, it is likely that they will forget things about you. They could forget small things, things like your favorite color, your favorite food, or they could forget time - not realizing how much of it has passed. They can also forget the big things - such as your name, your face, sometimes they may forget ever meeting you. The latter now is not a punishment, but rather a sign - a sign at how imperative you are to that person’s soul, that they must meet you again and again and again to understand what it is to meet you, lose you, love you, and fight to keep you.”
A pain in the ass. You had thought to yourself.
“There can be small stretches of memory loss, or long stretches. Meaning you can meet your soulmate, and they’d forget you within the next few hours, or, you could meet them and they would remember everything about you until one day, they just stopped.”
“So you could be with them, and they'll remember you every day for years, and then it can just…stop?” You had asked in disbelief.
Your teacher nodded, but her demeanor remained hopeful, while yours turned sour.
That sounded horrible.
“How do you know which one of you is meant to forget the other?” A classmate of yours had asked.
“You won’t know until you either remember it all, or until you meet them for the second time and they forget you.”
Your heart broke in your chest. How awful.
“Do they forget you forever?” Another classmate had asked. “Do they ever stop forgetting? Is there ever a time where they remember?”
There was a fond smile on your teacher’s face when she nodded. “They do eventually remember, yes, and the forgetting will stop when it’s time. There will come a day where they’ll remember everything they’ve forgotten. However, it can take time. My husband and I had technically been off and on for about ten years before he finally remembered everything. It was our wedding day when he finally remembered everything - the best wedding present I could have received.”
You had frowned at that. That was pure luck, and you knew for yourself you would never get to the point of marriage if your soulmate wasn’t going to remember marrying you.
“Are you supposed to help them remember?” You couldn’t help but ask. “If they forget, are we supposed to tell them we’ve met before? That they already know us?”
She’d paused, clearly trying to choose her words carefully. “You can, but you have to do it carefully. It could interfere with their ability to naturally remember in the long run if you force their memories.”
That pretty much helped you make up your mind.
If anything, you hoped you were one of the common people who didn’t have a soulmate. You didn’t want to deal with any of that business if it meant dealing with memory loss, if that memory loss was meant to test how “destined” you were for one another, if you couldn’t even tell your soulmate that they knew you before they remembered that they knew you.
Destiny was cruel, and you wanted no part of it.
~
Over the last seven years, you’d met your soulmate exactly five times before.
The first time you met was when you were eighteen and at your first college party. He was there too, drinking along with the other freshmen on his team while the older ones supervised.
The second you saw him, time slowed, your heartbeat picked up, and you even managed to muse aloud, “He’s the cutest boy I’ve ever seen.”
Serena, your best friend and roommate, told you his name then.
Sam Malinski.
You’d spoken it softly, repeating it to yourself to commit it to memory before you’d been dragged in the direction of your friend’s friends.
Some time later that night, someone suggested a game of spin the bottle and seven minutes in heaven.
You’d been dragged into the circle by Serena, and he’d been shoved into it by his friends. He’d spun the bottle, and you both ended up pushed into the hallway closet closest to the circle with the warning that there'd be three loud knocks on the door once you time was up.
Sam was tipsy, close to drunk for sure, his words slightly slurred when he said “Hi there. What’s your name?”
You told him, and he gave his name back to you before he hummed, sobering himself up enough to tell you “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. We can just sit here.”
“I want to,” you told him honestly. “I don’t mind.”
“Are you sure?” He asked. You could hear him fumbling, moving his hand along the wall to try to probably find the light, and that was the last thing you wanted - was for him to see your face up close, to be able to see you fully.
You were afraid he’d be mortified, think you weren't attractive, stick with just a peck to the cheek or forehead and then fumble around on his phone for the rest of the time.
So you reached forward, managed to find his hand and bring it between you. You traced your hand up his arm until you found his face, and then you brought him down to you and kissed him.
It was your first kiss.
Ever.
You were surprised with how quickly and how easily he had kissed you back, how his hands found their way into your hair, scratching gently along your scalp as he pressed your back against the wall. You kissed each other like you’d done it a thousand times before, but it didn’t feel practiced at all. It just felt…natural. Like it made all the sense in the world.
You were lost in his lips, lost in the way he went from having his fingers in your hair, to dropping them to your shoulders to bring you impossibly closer, to then cupping your face in his hands, using his grip to tilt your head this way and that as he pressed kisses from your mouth, to your jaw, your neck - nosing along the column to inhale your perfume, along the exposed line of your collarbone, and then back again until his lips were on yours once more.
You kissed and kissed and held tightly to one another until a loud barrage of knocking and laughter rained upon the closet door, and just like that, your first kiss was over, and whatever had developed between you both in those seven minutes began to slowly fade out.
“Dammit,” he’d cursed, hands dropping away from your body.
Your own hands fell to your sides right when the door flew open, the light from the party flooding into the pitch black closet and nearly blinding you. You felt Serena grab your wrist and all but yank you out of that closet, her and your other friends immediately demanding to know if you were okay and whether or not you’d been upset.
As they dragged you away from the closet, you’d turned your head back to look at him, and found him only a few steps outside of the closet as his friends and teammate surrounded him. The second you looked at him, it was like he felt your gaze, so he looked up, and you’d caught each other's gaze, eyes locked on one another, matching dazed expressions on your faces that remained until your friends tugged you around a corner.
You didn’t see each other at all the rest of the night, no matter how hard you tried to look for him.
The second time you’d met was the next day, in the morning breakfast line at the cafeteria. You’d been standing at the back of your group of friends, all of them waiting patiently with their trays to grab the steaming food waiting at the buffet in front of them when someone bumped into you from behind, apologizing profusely the second it happened.
You’d turned around, ready with a kind smile, “It’s oka-” was right on your lips, but the rest of the word died and your heart stuttered.
It was him.
“Oh,” you said. “Hi again.”
Sam stared back at you, puzzled. “Hi there. I’m sorry,” he repeated, voice sleep rough but filled with genuine apology. “Have we met before?”
Your heart came to a crashing halt behind your rib cage and disappointment flooded your veins, but you kept your kind smile where it was as you shook your head. “Oh no, I’m sorry. I think I mistook you for someone else.”
He’d stared at you for a second, clearly trying to think, but your friends had called your name, and you turned, following them as the line began to move. You’d turned back to see him, to ask yourself if that had just happened, but he was already gone, being dragged to the breakfast burrito station by his teammates.
When you’d sat down to eat, Serena asked “Was that the guy from last night?”
“I thought so,” you’d said. “But I guess it wasn’t him.”
She raised a brow. “Are you sure? It looked just like him.”
You shook your head, digging into your scrambled eggs. “Apparently not.”
Serena gave you a look. “Babe, does that mean he’s-”
“Nope,” you insisted, shoving a forkful of food into your mouth.
You knew what it meant, back then, that he didn’t remember you. You had hoped deep in your heart that it was just a boy being an asshole, that he genuinely didn’t remember and it wasn’t because of some soulmate bullshit.
But you knew. Deep down, you knew.
He was your soulmate.
And apparently, your soulmate lost his memories of you within twelve hours.
The third time you met, it was three years later, in a class your senior year.
You’d seen him here and there over the years. Never kissed him again, never ran into him intentionally or accidentally, never dared to put yourself in his path. He went pro sometime during your sophomore year, so you thought for sure you’d never see him again, until senior year, when he hopped into the lecture hall of your mythology elective class during the first day, a cast on his leg as he moved on crutches, and plopped down in the seat in front of you.
You kept your composure, resolved to pretend like he didn’t exist.
Till he turned around and gave you a kind smile, hair still a little wet from his morning shower.
“Hi there, I’m sorry, it’s been a while since I’ve done this so it looks like I forgot a pen. Would you happen to have a spare?”
“Oh,” was all you could muster. “Sure.” You dug in your bag and handed him the only spare you had, and he’d given you a kilowatt smile in return.
“Thanks.” Sam said, and then his face morphed into a softer expression, smile getting smaller, a little dimmer, but still kind. He introduced himself again, then said “And you are?”
You gave him your name for the second time in your lives, and this time, he repeated it, saying “Well it’s nice to meet you,” before turning around as a couple of his buddies, and now former teammates, spilled into the lecture hall and rushed to sit beside him.
From what you gathered from eavesdropping - well, it was hardly eavesdropping when they were speaking so loudly, and right in front of you - he’d gotten injured toward the end of his season in the big leagues and got surgery at the end of the summer. He managed to work out a deal with the school and his team for him to be able to come back to campus as a commuter and finish out his degree that he’d apparently been working on online, even though he’d left campus two years prior.
You found it admirable, at the time.
Once class was over, he’d gotten up and left without so much as a glance back at you, taking your pen with him.
He never showed for the next class, his teammates griping about how he’d been forced to go back to the team and to travel with them instead, continuing his courses online.
“Good riddance,” you tried to convince yourself to think. But it didn’t work.
You graduated, got a job, moved to Denver, and started your life.
A few years later, he got traded, and moved to the same city.
So, you’d met for the fourth time on a Friday night in a club downtown, a place called Luisa’s. It was popular, frequently packed, and exactly the kind of place you went to when you needed to let loose and pretend your life was anything other than it was.
You’d been dancing with your friends and some co-workers, and once you grew thirsty, you found your way towards the bar where you ordered yourself and your friends a few drinks.
He was there of course, waiting for a round of beers for his friend, and when he spotted you, that same, signature smile of his already splayed on his features.
You didn’t get your hopes up that time either. You looked different than you had the last time you’d seen him, your hair had gotten longer and a little lighter from all the time you’d been forcing yourself to spend in the sun. All your friends told you how much hotter you’d gotten with age.
Figures your soulmate would confirm that for you, all the while not remembering a single thing about you.
“Hi there.” Sam had said, then handed his card to the bartender and gestured towards you with his head. “Put her drinks on my tab, too.”
The bartender nodded and took the card before you could even start to protest, and you let out a small sigh. “Thank you, but you didn’t have to do that.”
“Gave me an excuse to talk to you, didn’t it?”
A small bubble of a laugh had almost left you in the moment. That was new, you remembered. He’d never been cheesy before. The trace of that smile had been on your lips still when he’d saddled up to you, getting in your space enough to close the distance but also remaining far enough away that you could leave if you really wanted to.
He introduced himself the same way he always did, and for the fourth time, you introduced yourself too, the same way you did before. He repeated your name again, a smile playing on his lips.
“What brings you to Luisa’s?” He asked you.
You shrugged. “The same as everyone else. You?”
“Well it was the same as everyone else.”
“Was?”
“The same as everyone else was getting kind of boring till I saw you. Now I’m staying because I want to get to know you.”
You remember you scoffed internally at that. You were sure just like before, you’d never get that far.
And you were right.
Later that night, you found yourselves drunkenly making out in a supply closet toward the back of the club, when the fire alarm went off, forcing you apart, which had been followed by a barrage of knocking on the door. He opened it with a frustrated sigh to find that his friends and yours were waiting there, the latter of which grabbed you and dragged you away, the blaring of the alarm drowning out their no doubt intense line of questioning.
He’d called after you that time, shouting your name among the alarm, but you didn’t look back.
Not right away at least.
When you did chance a glance behind you, you were slightly surprised to see Sam was watching you go, and you gave him a little wave goodbye.
The fifth time you met was the following morning in the grocery store.
You’d managed to ease your small hangover earlier that morning and decided grocery shopping would be a good way to get yourself out and about so you didn’t just sit and do nothing for the rest of the weekend.
He was there, in the produce section grabbing potatoes while you grabbed onions.
When he accidentally bumped your side when moving to get onions next, you didn’t bother looking up at him. Just accepted his sorry with a quiet “no worries,” and turned your back to him, heading for the bell peppers next.
You chanced a glance at him, to see if he might have remembered who you were this time, considering it was the second time he’d had his tongue down your throat.
He didn’t.
Sam barely looked in your direction before he sauntered off, and you grabbed your produce and went in the opposite direction.
As always.
Of all those five times, he never remembered you the next day, never seemed to be able to remember your name, your face, or the fact that you’d been pretty familiar with each other’s lips.
So you knew, as soulmates, that would probably be the pattern you had until fate decided it was time for him to remember.
That’s why when this sixth encounter came, you’d been better prepared.
He may have gone off script for once and suggested meeting again, but even if you knew whether you’d meet again or not, it would be just like always.
Hi there.
What’s your name?
The night would progress, maybe with a kiss, maybe not, but once you were out of sight, time would reset for him, and then it’d only be a matter of time before you’d meet again - you with every memory of before, Sam with no recollection at all.
Hi there.
What’s your name?
Repeat.
~
That fateful Saturday, you saddled up in your normal seat at the breakfast bar at Piper’s, smiling at Serena from her place at the espresso machine. Piper’s was extremely busy, busier than normal for a Saturday morning rush, and yet Serena looked as beautiful as ever, like none of this fazed her in the slightest.
She’d quit her corporate job about a year and a half ago, exhausted with the mundanity of her nine to five, and on the walk back to your shared apartment, had found a restaurant space for lease. After considering her savings and deciding she had nothing to lose, she opened up Piper’s Diner.
You were proud of how far she’d come, proud of how she never seemed exhausted or tired, proud of how much she loved the place.
“One best friend special, Eddie,” Serena calls back to the kitchen, tossing a wink in your direction before expertly loading up three coffees, two hot chocolates, and a few matcha lattes onto a tray and distributing them among the customers around the diner.
One of her waitresses, Jenna, places an orange juice and a glass of ice water down in front of you, like always, then puts her phone down, a picture of her latest design on the screen.
“Holy shit!” You exclaim, grabbing her phone and zooming in. Jenna was a student at the fashion institute, and had been working on a collection of clothing for one of her exam grades.
The design you were looking at was of a floral embroidered midi dress, flaunting a corset-style bodice and a column skirt topped with blue floral embroidery. It was stunning, and in the next picture, you saw the corset top had a lace-up back, along with a low-back cut-out.
“The collection theme I’m going with is ‘Eve’s Garden,’ and that is my first piece.” She says.
It was truly stunning, and Jenna giggled when you looked up to gape at her.
“How on earth do you come up with these designs?” You ask, then zoom in on the photo to get a closer look at the embroidery.
Jenna shrugs, “Oh you know, just magic I suppose.”
You open your mouth to respond, but your voice is seized from you when you hear a familiar voice call your name.
Hoping the shock isn’t written all over your face, you turn on your stool, in complete disbelief when you see Sam standing there.
What.
The.
Fuck.
Your heart rate skyrockets to a hundred, and you do your best not to unhinge your jaw completely when it drops a little in shock, before you snap it back shut almost immediately.
What is he doing here?
Did he actually just call my name? You think. You want to pinch yourself to be sure, but instead, you flex your toes in your sneakers, rolling your ankle subtly, trying to find any proof that you are in fact, settled in reality and that Sam Malinski of all people is still standing in front of you.
Your soulmate.
Your soulmate who until now - never remembered a thing about you, and certainly not your name.
He’s in a light sweater, black jacket, and dark jeans, hands stuffed in his pockets as he looks at you with a sheepish smile. “I said I’d remember it, didn’t I?”
And he did…but…
“How did you-” You cut yourself off, knowing you can’t actually ask him. How did you remember me? How did you remember any of it? How are you here right now?
“Cat got your tongue?” He teases, moving from his spot and taking a seat on the barstool next to yours.
Jenna’s staring at him with a skeptical look, dragging her gaze back to you as if to say “Who’s this dude?”
Sam either doesn’t notice the tense atmosphere he’s created or doesn’t care, smiling easily at Jenna and saying “I’ll have whatever she’s having, please.”
She nods, shooting you a look that means “the group chat will hear about this,” before turning to the little window to the kitchen, shouting her order to Eddie and grabbing a couple glasses to fill for Sam's orange juice and water.
You realize you’re still staring at him, and it’s probably uncomfortable, but you don’t know what else to do.
He smiles, laughing a little. “I can understand why you’re shocked, but I did say I would remember, and that I wanted to see you again.”
Again?
There has never been an “again,” never been a “next time,” and you want to tell him that. You want to tell him that and shake him and explain to him just why this is exactly the big deal you are trying so hard to not make it out to be.
But then his smile fades a bit, and his eyes fill partially with concern. “Did…did you forget?”
“No,” you insist, and his concern disappears almost immediately. “I didn’t forget.”
I just thought that you would.
“I’m surprised, that's all.” You continue. “A week is a long time.”
“Is it?” He muses. “I mean…it did feel a bit long - I was pretty excited to see you again.”
The smile that creeps up on your lips is there before you even realize it, and you can feel the heat flush in the apples of your cheeks. You see Jenna approach out of the corner of your eye, and turn your head toward her as she approaches with Sam's drinks. She puts it down, her eyes darting between you two.
“This is Sam,” you explain, cutting to the chase.
When she hears his name, you can see the bit of recognition there, and she offers a polite smile. “Nice to meet you,” and then to you, she says. “Food will be out in a bit. Did you need a side of fries?”
You look at Sam, who gestures as if to say “up to you,” before turning back to Jenna with a nod.
You’d need all the comfort food you could get, at this point.
When she walks away, you turn to him, fumbling for something to say.
You’d never actually gotten this far with him before.
For all that in the past he’d prepared you to deal with meeting him over and over, and then him forgetting you over and over, you’d never actually considered or had to be prepared with him remembering you.
He beats you to it though. “So, was it officially worth it? Me taking up all your time last Saturday?”
“Yes,” you say, almost immediately. Because it’s true.
Because this is the first time you’ve gotten this far with him before.
And it was new, exciting, and nerve wracking.
It maybe even made you feel a bit…hopeful?
You tamp it all down anyway, because again, you’ve never gotten this far with him before, and you don’t know how much farther you can go.
But for now…for now you’re just tempted to find out.
“It was worth it,” you promise him.
Sam smiles, dazzling and charming and soft, and holds out his glass of orange juice. You hold yours up, and he lightly clinks your glasses together.
“To it being worth it,” he explains, and you smile right back at him.
“To it being worth it.”
~
Brunch flies by, your plates of food cleared and discarded as the two of you split a second basket of fries.
You’d learned so much about him this time. More than you ever got the chance to before, and it had you clinging to your barstool as you leaned in, listening with rapt attention as he spoke to you.
It wasn’t until he happened to glance at the clock on the wall that he flashes a sheepish smile, wiping his hands nervously on his jeans.
“Sorry,” he says, “I didn’t mean to take up all your time. You probably had other plans.”
“I didn’t,” you say, honestly. “Usually my Saturday mornings are brunch here, and then I spend the rest of the day at home.”
He smiles softly. “Oh, okay. In that case, do you feel up to doing something else? With me, I mean. Something else with me. Maybe?”
His nervousness brings a smile to your lips. Cute.
“I’d love to.” You say, and Sam’s charming smile is back in full force. He politely waves Jenna over and hands her his card for the bill. When you protest almost immediately, he shakes his head.
“Absolutely not,” he tells you. “This is definitely a date and I prefer to do things old school.”
A date.
Your heart flutters, even if just for a little. There’s also a part of your subconscious that tells you it’s a bit silly to get excited over a date with the guy who is most definitely your soulmate, but you tamp it down, offering a kind smile instead.
“Well, thank you. Genuinely.” You say, “I appreciate it.”
It’s another few minutes before Sam settles the bill, and when you both stand to leave, you see Jenna and Serena watching the two of you with curious eyes. You flash them a reassuring smile, waving your fingers. They both give you another look that says “We’ll discuss this later.”
You follow Sam outside, and he stuffs his hands in his pocket, turning to you. “Would you prefer to take your car, or mine?”
Quietly, you gesture to where your car is parked near the curb. “I’m right here.”
He smiles, pointing to the black BMW next to your car. “I’m right next to you.”
“Rock, paper, scissors?” You tease, smirk playing at the corner of your mouth.
You’re only half surprised when he actually sticks his hand out, fingers curled into a loose fist. It makes you laugh a little, and you hold out your own fist.
You both shake your fists three times, then throw out your weapon of choice.
You throw scissors.
Sam throws rock.
You push air through your nostrils, absolutely not pouting when you look at his face. He laughs, eyes crinkling, playfully and gently bringing his fist down on to your two fingers. A shiver runs up your spine at the contact, goosebumps erupting on your arms.
“Looks like you’re riding with me, pretty girl.” He teases, then walks over to his car, unlocking it as he approaches and opens the passenger side door.
You pointedly ignore the pet name.
Sam looks up when he notices you’re not there, frowning slightly when he sees you’re still standing in your place on the sidewalk, arms crossed over your chest and a questioning look on your face. He smirks as he rests one arm on the roof of his car, the other on the top of the door.
“Need something else?” He asks. “You can take a picture of my license plate to send to your friends, if you need to. I don’t mind it.”
“They’ve got my live location,” you inform him, “So that’s not really wholly necessary.”
“Then why aren’t you getting in?” Sam questions, gesturing at your current position with his chin.
You tilt your head at him curiously. “Where are you taking me?”
“On part two of this date I worked so hard to earn.” He teases.
You scoff. “I didn’t make you work that hard.”
“Waiting a week to see you again was hard,” he reasons, stepping around the car door and then shutting it so he can approach you on the sidewalk once more. “Especially because it was all I could think about every day.”
You look up at him from below your lashes, skeptical. “Sam, I-”
He takes you by surprise, carefully undoing your crossed arms and taking one of your hands to link your pinkies together. He makes a small cross over his heart with his other hand, before resting it on top of your linked pinkies. “I swear that I will take you on a fun and enjoyable second half of this date and return you here early enough that you can drive home safely while the sun is still out. And if you don’t have fun with me, then you can call it quits at any time and I will immediately bring you right back.”
He looks at you afterward, expectant, and you can’t help the small smile that creeps up on your face, looking down at your feet to school your expression before the smile gets too big.
It’s just because you’ve never gotten to this point with him. You remind yourself. It’s not a big deal.
“Alright,” you concede. “I accept your promise.”
Sam gently untangles your hands, only to lace his fingers between yours, taking a tentative step back and pulling you with him. “You trust me, right?”
There was…so much you wanted to say in response. Because in truth, of course you did. It didn’t matter if he didn’t know that you’d known him for almost ten years at this point, it didn’t matter that he didn’t realize you two had been more than well acquainted, or that he couldn’t remember a single bit of it.
He was your soulmate, so even if he didn’t know it, of course you trusted him.
But still, this was a version of him you weren’t completely familiar with, so you just say “I’m starting to.”
The smile Sam gives you in return is blinding. “Good enough for me.”
~
There had been times over the years you’d thought about him.
You couldn’t help it - no matter whether he remembered you or not, no matter how much time had passed, no matter how much you hated the things you’d have to endure as his soulmate, the unknown amount of times you’d have to have your heart broken over and over and your hopes shot down, you thought about him.
You would think about him on your tough days at school, your tough days at work, during holidays when you would see couples and families out and about, even at home with your own family as each of your cousins got engaged, got married, started having children.
If it was on, if he played, then during the nights you missed him, or wanted to be close to him, you’d turn on one of his games, content to just sit and watch. Whenever he came on screen or the announcers spoke his name, you’d felt your heart almost throb in response, as if it was trying to leap out of your chest to go to him. Serena and Jenna and your other friends crowded around you in those times, sharing in your joy.
They were there for you through it all, and especially in that moment - knowing exactly who he was, knowing what you’d been through with him, knowing who he was to you, and knowing that it was still very important for you to have this moment to celebrate with him from a distance.
You still weren’t quite sure what was next for the two of you, what this all meant, but you knew that if anything, it was nice for the two of you to be able to have something tangible for once, for him to be more than just a passing encounter, or a wistful thought before bed.
~
You pull up to the player’s lot behind Ball Arena, a little hesitant as you roll your window down for one of the attendants in the lot.
“Hi,” you say, trying to sound confident. “I’m uh, I’m supposed to be picking up Sam Malinski? He told me to wait for him here?” You say, and you’re surprised when the attendant’s face lights up at the mention of Sam.
“Oh of course! He did mention you’d be coming. Right this way, I’ll have you park in his spot.”
You nod, offering a kind smile before rolling your window up, following the attendant to a parking spot a few doors down from an entrance, pulling in and parking. The attendant taps on your window, and you roll it down again, accepting the visitor’s pass he offers.
“You’re welcome to stay in here, or if you need to use the restroom or anything, the door is open and you’re free to go on inside.”
You carefully place the visitor’s pass on your dashboard, “Thank you, I appreciate it.”
Once the attendant walks away, you feel yourself being able to breathe a little easier, but there’s still a small bundle of nerves sitting in your stomach. You decide to stay in the car, texting Sam to let him know you’d arrived, and that you were in his parking spot whenever he was ready.
He’d taken you to Meow Wolf, an interactive exhibit that the two of you surprisingly spent a solid three hours at, before he took you to Little Man Ice Cream, and eventually dropped you off at your car in front of Piper’s. At that point, you and Sam had exchanged numbers, and over the past two weeks since, had been texting back and forth, speaking on the phone a few times, and FaceTimed once.
With his schedule and yours, it had been a little tough to find time to meet up since that initial Saturday, but you’d managed to find some time today. It was a Thursday afternoon, and you’d agreed to come and pick Sam up once you’d finished work and he’d finished practice. He had a game tomorrow night, one you’d be attending with Serena, and then Sam would be heading out on a trip for a series of games in California that following day.
He wanted to take you out for dinner at one of his favorite restaurants to enjoy the outdoor patio before the cold really settled in, and you couldn’t help but be a little excited.
Again - you’d never gotten this far with him before, so every new moment the two of you spent together, every day that passed that he still remembered you, it made you tingle.
The hope that had bloomed that first day at Piper’s continued to grow and grow, a swarm of butterflies taking permanent hold in your stomach with a field of flowers to match.
Sam doesn’t make you wait long - he’s coming out of the player’s entrance after less than ten minutes, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder. You hear a cacophony of noise follow him as the automatic door slowly shuts, can see his teammates and friends jeering at him, a few of them smiling and waving at you.
You’re familiar with them, of course. Had met them a few times since his arrival in Denver, but Sam didn’t remember that, and his teammates and friends probably didn’t either.
To be kind, you wave back, smiling softly and then laughing when you can see Sam follow your wave, turning back to his teammates and shouting something at them that makes them scatter like ants.
When he approaches your car, you pop the trunk for him before opening your door. He meets you right as you exit the car by wrapping you into a warm hug, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your hair.
“Hi there,” he murmurs, and you fight back the shiver that threatens to run up your spine.
You were starting to like that phrase from him more and more by the day.
“Hi,” you parrot back, rubbing his back gently. “Ready to go?”
Sam nods, then carefully releases you. You lead him to the trunk so he can put away his bag before you’re both rounding back to the front of the car, Sam taking the driver’s seat and you in the passenger seat, since Sam knows where he’s going.
As the two of you pull out of the lot and head through the city, you turn a little in your chair to face him. “How was your day? Good?”
“It was good, better now though.” He says, turning to you to give a playful wink before returning his attention to the road. “What about you? How was work? Did the photoshoot go well today?”
You worked at an interior design firm as a photographer and assisted with set design on the side, and Sam found it extremely interesting. He’d told you that once upon a time he wanted to study architectural design, which you’d already known, but you didn’t think that because of that he’d be all that interested in your line of work.
He’d proven you wrong - another unexpected but welcome miracle.
“It did,” you admit. “Better than I expected.”
“Told you that you didn’t have to worry about anything.” Sam points out. His tone is gentle, encouraging, and he reaches across the center console to rest a calm hand on your knee.
The touch makes you shy all of a sudden, though you’re not sure why. He’d been handsy in the past, so you had a feeling physical touch was something he preferred, but this was different.
Everything was different, especially now.
“You did say that,” you muse, resting your own hand on top of his.
“Good thing we’re gonna go stuff our faces with pasta to celebrate then, isn’t it?” He says teasingly.
You look at him, really taking him in.
From the outside, anyone who might not know that the two of you did have a past, they might tell you that you’re moving a little too fast, that your efforts for the past several years to keep your heart out of the equation was starting to be for nothing.
Sam was your soulmate, and not even death could sever that, or change it. And the more you got to know him, the more you knew the possibility of him forgetting you was still high, and probably unavoidable.
But you didn’t know if you really cared about that anymore.
“Yeah,” you say, almost too quiet. “It’s a good thing.”
~
You two stuff your faces full of pasta and share a slice of the richest chocolate cake you’ve probably ever had in your life.
Sam has his game the next night, which you and Serena attend - you with bright eyes and a thrill of excitement as you sit several rows above the glass, eyes on him the entire time.
The Avalanche win 3-1 and after the game, Sam asks to meet you near the player’s entrance in the lot.
Serena waits with you, the both of you chatting idly and greeting some of Sam’s teammates and their family and friends as they each make their way out of the arena to head home.
Sam follows after them a little later, hair still wet from his post game shower and dripping a little onto his suit jacket. He finds you easily, and once you lock eyes, you smile at him, waving. He responds with a smile of his own, opening his arms when he’s only steps away and you fall into him when he gets close enough, eyes falling shut and inhaling the scent of him.
He presses a kiss to your forehead, his quiet “hi there” pressed against your scalp before he pulls away, keeping one hand resting around your waist as he greets Serena.
“Do you mind if I steal her from you?” he asks, and Serena sends you a smirk and a wiggle of her eyebrows.
“Not at all,” she says sweetly. The two of you had arrived separately because Serena had a feeling this might happen, and though you had initially denied it, you did pack an overnight bag just in case, one that was resting in the trunk of your car right now.
Sam turns to you, a small question in his eyes. “Do you mind being stolen?”
“It’d be a first,” you tease, “but I’m open to it.”
You say your goodbyes to Serena, who promises to text you when she gets home, and Sam follows you to your car. You hand him the keys, climbing into the passenger seat while he throws his things into your trunk.
When you pull out of the lot, there’s a part of you that wants to ask where you’re going, but you already know the answer, so you keep your mouth closed, welcoming Sam’s resting hand on your knee. You lace your fingers with his loosely, resting your head against the back of your seat as Sam navigates his way through the city.
You’d never spent the night at his place before, not now, not all those years ago, so you’re a little surprised when Sam drives past apartment building after apartment building and pulls into a residential neighborhood, driving past house after house until he pulls into a dead end street with a roundabout at the end.
Sam parks just two houses down from the roundabout, in front of a two story contemporary style home, with an honest to god wrap around front porch with the lights on.
A quiet exhale of amazement leaves your chest, and Sam chuckles softly from beside you. Your head turns to him at the sound, and he smiles. “Like it?”
“It’s really nice,” you say honestly. Because it is.
“I just want to say, before we go in,” he starts, throat thick with what you can sense is both hesitance and anxiety. “I’m not…I’m not expecting anything, you know? I just wanted to spend time with you before I left, and I don’t expect you to stay the whole night. My teammate is picking me up in the morning so we can head to the airport, so you don’t have to worry about it if you decide you want to leave, and-”
You squeeze the hand that’s resting on your knee, laughing a little when you say “Sam. Sam, it’s okay. I want to stay.”
He blinks. “You do?”
“I do,” you nod. “I um…I don’t know that I feel comfortable with…anything else? But I’m fine to stay, to spend time with you. I don’t mind spending the night, so long as it is just to spend the night.”
The smile filled with all his boyish charm spreads wide across his face, and it makes you giggle a bit. He laughs with you, relieved, and nods to himself. “Okay, okay cool.”
Together, the two of you exit your car, grabbing your belongings and heading inside.
There’s a split second when you cross the threshold into his house for the first time when you feel a shock of electricity run down your spine, and you can’t help but wonder if it’s a sign, or an omen.
~
In the morning, you wake first, content to remain in his arms and watch him for a moment.
Mornings after or next days had never been kind to the two of you.
This was the first time you’d really gotten to see him like this - soft, gentle, at peace and sleeping like he didn’t have a care in the world. And maybe he didn’t.
At least that made one of you.
You’re not sure how long you lay there watching him, listening to him breathe and thinking about all the times you’d silently wished for moments like this before. His alarm eventually rings, vibrating under his pillow.
You do what you think is the decent thing and close your eyes, breathing quietly and listening as Sam slowly wakes, sheets rustling as he turns his alarm off then stretches out. A moment later, you can feel his hand gently brushing hair out of your face, fingertips brushing against your skin as he goes. You open your eyes then, and when you do, you observe the way he tracks your expression, staring back at you quietly, almost like he’s looking for something.
Whatever it is, you think he finds it, because then he’s smiling at you, leaning forward in the space between you and pressing a series of gentle kisses to your hairline, murmuring “Hi there,” voice fraught with sleep.
You hum quietly, murmuring it back into his shoulder.
“I have to get up,” he speaks into your hair, but it sounds a lot more like he’s convincing himself. “I still have to pack and make food and stuff.”
“Don’t you eat on the plane?”
“That’s lunch, not breakfast.” He says, and you can’t see him, but you can picture the wrinkle in his nose.
“You get ready then,” you say. “I’ll make you something.”
Sam makes a small noise of protest. “You don’t have to do that, I can-”
“Breakfast is kind of my specialty.” You say. “My best friend owns a diner, and all.”
He gasps a little. “Serena owns Piper’s? You didn’t tell me that.”
“Surprise?” You offer, and Sam laughs, lips meeting your forehead once more. “Go,” you say, patting his side. “You get ready, and I’ll go make breakfast.”
Sam gets ready in his bathroom while you get ready in the half bath and then head out into his kitchen. You find what you need, making quick work of his breakfast and putting it in the open lunch bag on the counter, cleaning up after yourself as you go.
You hear a car pull into his driveway at the time Sam comes downstairs, he’s dressed in black slacks, a white dress shirt, navy blue tie, and a black blazer, his suitcase in one hand and his phone in the other.
You take him by surprise a little when you hand him the lunch bag, “Two breakfast burritos. One with bacon, one with sausage.”
Sam is quick to smile, accepting it with a quiet and shy “thank you.”
“Like I said, it’s my specialty. It was nothing, really.”
“That’s more than I deserve,” Sam says, and you shake your head.
“I don’t think that’s true.” You say, smiling kindly, then double check the time on the clock on your oven. “You should probably get going though, I think your ride might be outside and I don’t want you to be late.”
“Okay baby, thank you.” Sam says, leaning forward and quickly dropping a kiss to your lips, once, twice, three times, before he pulls away.
Sam turns to bend and put on his shoes, failing to see the stunned look cross your eyes, your entire frame frozen in shock, lips still tingling from his affections.
You hadn’t kissed him since…well, since that night at Luisa’s.
And that was two years ago.
Sam had only kissed you on your forehead so far.
You’d forgotten how much you enjoyed kissing him, how soft his lips were, how earnest.
But by the time he rights himself again, glancing back at you with a smile, you’d manage to wipe the incredulity away, smiling softly back at him in turn, offering a little wave when he tosses a “See you soon pretty girl” over his shoulders.
You move to the front window, watching him get into his teammate’s car and drive off, watching till it disappears down the street, trying to understand why the tingling of your lips would not go away, and why your confusion around his kiss suddenly formed a ball of sadness in the pit of your stomach.
~
You’re at Piper’s later that day, still a little dazed. You were surprised you’d managed to lock up after yourself at Sam’s and had the wherewithal to bring yourself here to have a late lunch.
You’re almost done with your food when Serena approaches you from the other side of the counter, refilling your orange juice.
There’s a small look on her face that you can read from a mile away, so you gently set your fork down. “What?”
She raises a brow in open curiosity. “Have you told him?”
“Told who what?” You lie.
Serena sees right through you, of course. She always has. Instead of answering your question, she sets the pitcher of orange juice down behind her next to the soda fountain, then turns back to you, resting her hands on the countertop.
“How long are you going to keep it from him?”
You pause.
Because you honestly don’t know.
“You can’t not tell him, you know.” Serena says, and though it’s gentle, it registers to you as ominous, and your stomach twists.
“Does it matter?” You say instead, which you know is the wrong thing to say. Because it does matter. It mattered a whole hell of a lot to you a month ago, and you both know it.
Serena just smiles easily, and somehow that makes it worse. “It doesn’t. Not to him, at least not right now, but it does to you.” When you frown, taking a bite of your french fries, she continues talking. “I just don’t want to see it happen to you again, and I think if you tell him, then it won’t.”
You blink up at her.
Serena had been there for you, she’d seen it all. You knew she knew what she was talking about.
But all you could say in return was “It’s just…it’s still new. I’m just trying to enjoy it for a little longer.”
She’s quiet, and it unnerves you just a little. For all that Serena was your best friend, there was a part of you that looked to her like an older sister, so when she sighs through her nose and offers you a placating smile, it feels a lot like you’ve let her down.
~
A week later, you’re back at Sam’s house again, and he’s watching you work through editing some of the photos you took at your last design shoot.
“Do you need anything?” He asks, approaching you from behind. Once he reaches you, your frame tense in the barstool at his kitchen counter, he places a comforting hand on your shoulder, gently caressing the skin there. You think at first he means to massage it, probably ro try to work through the small bundle of nerves at your shoulders, but that’s not what happens.
You can feel his careful movements as his hand moves up to your neck, reaching around and using his finger to tip your chin up, head back, so he can bend down and kiss you gently. His fingers gently rest on your throat, and it sends a shiver racing through your body.
It’s so…reminiscent of before. Of the way he would kiss you like the world would stop tomorrow if he didn’t, only for him to forget you the next day.
Part of it feels nice, familiar, and warm. The other part makes you a little afraid.
When he pulls back to look you in the eye, you stare right back at him, eyes widened in slight surprise and blinking at him.
The corner of his mouth ticks up in a small smile as he watches you right yourself then turn on the barstool to face him, reaching out to brush your hair out of face. “What is it, pretty girl?”
There’s a pause, and you’re a little lost, afloat in the ocean and stranded.
That is…new. Wholly welcome, but new.
When you see Sam’s patient expression, you shake your head softly and swallow down the lump in your throat. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”
“Was that…” He starts, suddenly looking unsure. “Was that okay?”
“More than okay,” you answer quickly, almost too quickly. “I just…”
He nods, as if to urge you on.
You’re not sure how to broach the subject at all, if you’re honest, and you almost regret saying anything instead of just enjoying it. You can see the nerves start to rise in his eyes, and you shake it all off, pushing it away.
You smile easily, reassuringly, and instead say “I really like you.”
Your confession visibly stuns him, his head jerking back slightly. He blinks at you, his hand falling to his side lamely.
“I really like you, too. Though that might be a bit of an understatement.” he says simply, like it's a fact, like it’s a written rule in the universe, and smiles.
“It’s only been like…two months, though?” You point out, not to prove him wrong, or say you don’t believe it, but also as a fact.
Sam doesn’t even falter. “I know. But when you know, you know, right?”
You blink back at him this time, shocked. Your heart hammers in your chest, pleased with his answer and still shocked at how easily those words come so easily from him, but the pit of doubt at the base of your spine is still there, still reminding you that this could be gone in the morning.
He misunderstands your silence as dissatisfaction with his answer, and you can see the worry as it begins to brew.
“Do you not…” He pauses for a second, unsure how to ask. “Do you not?”
“I do know.” You say, nodding. “I just…this is the first time.”
The first time I’ve allowed myself to admit I might love you, even if you don’t know why, or for how long.
“What?” Sam asks in a surprised gasp.
You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, hesitating, before finally letting out a stressed breath. “Not with anyone.”
He blinks. “What? No one?”
“No one.” You confirm. “I haven’t had something like this.”
“Like this?” He parrots, and you can tell he’s not asking because he’s not understanding. He’s asking because he wants to be sure of what you’re saying.
So you say it.
“Love.” Sam technically put it out there first, right? So… “A love like this. It’s new, and I guess I’m getting used to it, trying to understand it.”
Words, so many words, get caught in your throat when he doesn’t say anything, to the point that you’re not totally sure where to go from here. But then he’s reaching out to pull you in by your shoulders, wrapping his arms tightly around you and pressing his cheek to the top of your head.
“You can ask me as many questions as it takes for you to be able to understand it.” He says finally, pressing the words into the crown of your head. “I’ll answer every single one.”
“There might be a lot.” You murmur against his chest after a moment.
Your bodies shake together at his soft chuckle. “Every single one, baby. I’ll answer them all.”
~
As the next few months pass by - the two of you fall into a routine.
You spend time after work and between his practices and games and all his travel. It’s at his house, mostly, but sometimes at your apartment. In the mornings, you make breakfast, and he will usually handle lunch, or dinner, or both.
Sometimes, he’ll drive your car, or sometimes you’ll drive his, taking each other on dates around the city, or to and from each other’s place. As it gets colder, Sam insists on taking you skating, which you agree to, but it gets harder to plan for when the holidays kick up your schedule and Sam has to buckle down and focus on the season, the team quickly moving up to the top spot in the division.
You decide to save it for a special day, one that hasn’t arrived yet but probably will, and it excites you every time Sam mentions how much he’s looking forward to it.
He meets all of your friends, spends his free Saturday mornings at Piper’s with you. Even on the few days where you tell him you have to hop behind the counter to help out as Serena’s barista, Sam parks in your usually barstool and eats your regular order, ordering refills of his orange juice while he chats idly with Jenna, Serena, and even Eddie, who wanders out from the kitchen every now and again to slip Sam some fresh cookies before you can even put the rest on the counter.
Most mornings, especially the ones where you wake up together, there are moments where you wait with bated breath to see if today will be the day, if you’ll have to let him go. You wait with so much anxiety you think it might make you burst, until the moment where he opens his eyes and greets you softly, pressing kisses to your face.
“Hi baby,” he says now.
It’s what he says when he picks you up, when you pick him up, when he wakes up, when he comes back to you or you back to him, even if you’ve only been separated for five minutes, or even if you’ve only crossed the room to go right back to him.
“I love you,” he says now.
In the moments when you come back to him, when he goes back to you, when he always has that smile ready for you, when he sees you in the kitchen, when he sees you waiting for him, opening his arms, waiting and ready for you to run right into them.
It’s those moments, where you come back to him, when he comes back to you, that keep you hopeful.
~
“When are you going to tell him?” Serena asks you, more than once.
Enough times in the six months that you go from saying “I don’t know” to “Soon, I will,” which in your heart means probably never, not if you didn’t have to.
Except you’d have to.
And you should’ve known better than to be hopeful.
~
About six months into your relationship, you agree to go out with Sam on a night out with his friends and teammates. Some of them you’ve met in passing when they pick Sam up at his house, or when you pick him up from practice, or when you say hello and make small talk at his games. You’ve met Gabe and Melissa, something Sam mentioned had to happen first, then met Nathan, the other Sam, Parker, Mikko, Casey, Miles, and Cale.
You haven’t met all of them, or all of their significant others, but that’s part of what tonight is for, you suppose.
You and Sam arrive a bit early, Sam insisting that he wanted to have some time with you alone before things got crazy. And he was right.
The arrival of his friends and teammates and their significant others brings noise and creates quite the crowd. You’re in a bar you don’t think you’ve ever been to before, the name of it completely lost on you.
You were too distracted by Sam and the tight grip he had on your hand as you walked in, eyes never leaving the side of his face, too insistent on taking in that excited expression of his.
Some of the older teammates get in a little later, including Nathan, who after he greets you, is visibly surprised.
“Oh! You two are together now?” Nathan teases, a hint of mirth in his eyes as his gaze falls on you, then back to Sam. “Since when?”
“Not long after we met for the first time at Valley Tavern, maybe a few months after?” Sam says proudly, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer. There's a cocky smile on his face, and he presses a noisy kiss to your forehead. “She didn’t fall for any of my charms but she still let me take her out on a date anyway.”
“Valley Tavern?” Parker parrots, confused.
You turn to him, equally confused. He wasn’t there, that much you remember. You may not have known his name then, but you do remember his face. You remember seeing him at Luisa’s, two years before, since he was the one to pull Sam away from you, but you didn’t think he remembered any of that, or that any of them did, for that matter.
Parker’s gaze falls back to you, and you can see it then.
Recognition.
It rattles you a little. You stare at him, not sure what you’re meant to say, not sure what it is he expects from you.
To correct Sam? Correct him when he didn’t remember you in the first place, especially that night?
That’s when it clicks - when you realize why Parker’s staring at you that way.
You can see that while Sam didn’t remember you, some of his friends did.
“Valley Tavern,” you confirm anyway, trying, and failing miserably, to subtly communicate to Parker and the others around you who know to just accept that as an answer and keep their mouths and memories shut and locked away.
Parker barrels on, and you can feel yourself wishing for time to stop. “But you met before at Luisa’s?”
There's a pause, a shift in the air that you can feel. When Sam squeezes your shoulder and pulls you closer, there's a part of you that has to resist pushing him away.
He laughs awkwardly, and you can feel his body tense against yours slightly. “Nope, it was Valley Tavern. You weren’t there that night, so you’re probably mixing things up.”
“Yeah man, we know he was a playboy before but he’s changed his ways. He definitely remembers where he met his lovely lady,” Miles pipes up, causing a few people in their group at the table to laugh. From beside him, his girlfriend sends a worried look your way, and you try to smile back at her in a way that is reassuring and positive, but it doesn’t work.
She murmurs your name, reaching out as if to try to whisk you away to the bathroom, to get you out of this situation, because she is a kind friend and an ally, but that doesn’t work either.
Sam squeezes your shoulder again, and then turns to glance down at you before looking back at his teammate. “No man, we met at Valley Tavern.”
“Dude,” Casey tells him, a serious edge to his tone. “You met her like…two years ago? At Luisa’s. Remember? The girl from the supply closet?”
Sam blinks, fingers flexing against your skin. “Bro-”
“It’s her.” Casey insists.
Parker nods in agreement. “I swear. I wouldn’t say this in front of her if I wasn’t absolutely sure. You couldn’t stop talking about her for the next like two days. You even swore you saw her the next morning.”
Your heart comes to a crashing halt against your rib cage.
He…he recognized you?
He remembered you.
There’s no way.
It can’t be.
“I don’t…” He starts, and you know what he’s trying to say. What he wants to say. I don’t remember.
But it never comes.
As loud as it is, it suddenly becomes quiet enough to hear a pin drop.
And really, you should all be happy, you should all be ecstatic and over the moon and happy and joyful.
But all you can feel is like your heart is being squeezed within an inch of its life. You feel panic, anxiety creeping in and clawing at your throat.
~
The drive back to your apartment, where the two of you had agreed to spend the night, is completely silent.
Sam still keeps a hand on your thigh, squeezing every now and again. It’s a gentle touch, anchoring almost, and halfway through, he turns his hand over, palm up, and you know what he wants.
You’re hesitant, but you still give it to him, resting your hand gently in his palm. His fingers lace through yours, and he holds your hand tight. It’s not tight enough to hurt, or tight enough to worry you, but you feel it all the same.
His sadness, his worry.
He’s half of your soul after all. Of course you feel it.
When he parks in the garage of your apartment, he shuts off the car and turns to you. It’s quiet for a beat, and you swallow past the lump in your throat, taking a deep breath before you speak.
“Sam, I-”
He takes you by surprise, all but launching across the center console, hands cupping your face and kissing you.
It’s intense, desperate.
Familiar.
He kisses you with the same urgency he did before, all those times before. There’s a bit of that gentleness underneath, a bit of the parts of him that just met you before he decided he needed to have you.
“I just,” Sam says, breathless as he pulls back an inch. “I just needed to do that. Is that okay?”
You nod, pulling in a deep inhale. “Yeah, it’s okay.”
He nods, and the ghost of his lips brushes against yours, almost a phantom kiss, before he presses a firm one against your mouth. He pulls away after a breath. “Let’s go inside, yeah?”
You nod, and the two of you carefully get out, Sam locking his car before taking your hand in his and leading you both to the elevator.
Once the elevator doors close, he holds you tight to him, keeping you close, and if you didn’t know better, you’d say he’s worried that you’d disappear.
You wonder if he knew that you were feeling the same way.
Once you’re safely inside, Sam making sure the door is locked behind you both, you turn to one another, and the silence says everything.
He knows.
He reaches out, takes your hand again, and you let him, let him lead you to the couch, but you don’t sit. You can’t.
You shake your head, and he blinks, nodding. You drop your hands, but he reaches for them right when you move to take a step back, and his fingers gently circle your wrists.
You open your mouth to say something, anything.
It’s been years.
I didn’t think this day would come.
I didn’t know what I would do if you forgot me again.
Nothing came out.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He murmurs, the fingers circling your wrists loosening as he tries to intertwine your fingers.
You smile at him sadly, shaking your head. “It didn’t matter.”
“But it did,” Sam insists. “It does. It mattered to you for a while and it matters to me.”
“It doesn’t.” You say, trying to take your hand back. “It doesn’t and it never did. It’s in the past and I was the only one who remembered.”
He frowns. “But I remember, too. I do.”
“You didn’t remember until someone else told you,” You remind him as gently as you can, no heat or anger behind your words. “You didn’t remember any of it, and it’s okay. It doesn’t matter now.”
“Stop saying that,” he practically pleads. “Why do you keep saying that?”
Your last bit of restraint snaps and you rip your hands away, taking a large step back from him.
“Because you didn’t remember!” You cry out in frustration, “Not a single time that we’ve met have you remembered a single thing about me. Not my name, not my face, not a thing.”
You can see the way your confession breaks him.
There’s a long pause. He looks absolutely guilt stricken, and as much as it hurts you to see, you don’t know that you can comfort him.
“How many times?” Sam finally asks, voice quiet. “How many times have we met?”
Now it’s your turn to pause. No matter how frustrated you were, you knew admitting this would hurt him, but there’s no way around it. “Including Valley Tavern, we’ve met six times.”
His face twists into an expression of agonizing pain. “Six times?” All you can do is nod, and he practically deflates. “How…” he swallows past the lump in his throat. “How long have we - how long have you known me while I haven’t known you?”
You don’t know which answer is going to hurt more - the number of years or the age at which you first met. You’re also not sure which is going to hurt you more to say.
You just say the first thing that comes to mind, which is “We met freshman year. In college, in the fall semester.”
He visibly winces, taking a step back and running a frustrated hand through his hair. “I’ve known you since I was eighteen? Since we were eighteen?”
All you can do is nod. He completely deflates then, weight collapsing beneath him as he takes a seat on the couch. He props his elbows on his knees, holding his head in his hands.
You don’t say anything. You don’t know what to say, or if there is anything to say.
It’s not until you see the small shake in his shoulders that you find yourself sinking to the floor in front of him, your knees hitting the plush carpet and hands coming to rest on his forearms, pressing your forehead to his.
“Sammy,” you say gently, silent tears of your own cascading down your cheeks. “I’m sorry.”
He doesn’t say anything back, just quietly cries for a moment. You stay right where you are, waiting.
A few minutes pass before he sniffles, raising his head and wiping a few stray tears with the back of his hand. He looks at you then, and frowns, reaching out to thumb away your tears.
“Can you-” he starts, clearing his throat when his voice comes out shaky. “Can you tell me about it? About all the times we’ve met.” His request takes you by surprise, and for a second all you can do is blink, wondering if it’s a good idea. But then his expression crumbles a little more, his eyes tearing up again, and he lets out a quiet “Please.”
You nod, resting your hands on his knees.
You tell Sam everything. From seven minutes in heaven to seeing him at breakfast. From his first day in class after three years and meeting at Luisa’s, and then meeting again the next morning at the grocery store. You recount meeting him again at Valley Tavern, about how you only offered up that condition of seeing each other again because you didn’t think you would be seeing each other again. At all. You recount every detail and hope it answers whatever questions are going through his head.
You tell him again in different words that you never thought to remind him of you because if he didn’t remember you in the morning, you thought you’d both be better off that way. You try to impress on him that you thought you were doing the right thing for the both of you, that you thought it would be better for him given the circumstances. You can hear the desperation in your voice when you tell him, can hear that you’re practically pleading for him to understand that this wasn’t easy for you, that you didn’t mean to hurt him, that you didn’t mean to keep this a secret, but you didn’t know what other option you had.
When you finish, he just stares at you, a storm of emotions behind his eyes that you can’t read.
“I-” he starts, clearing his throat. “I understand your side of it, I do. But I…I’m not gonna lie to you, I’m upset. I’m not mad, or angry but I’m upset.”
You nod, swallowing past the lump in your throat. Your hands fall from his knees to your lap, and you sit back, taking a deep breath. “Okay. I understand.”
Sam stares at you, eyes roaming over your face. He reaches out, brushing a stray strand of hair away. “I was so worried, for a long time, that I didn’t have anyone out there for me.” He starts, voice thick with emotion. He speaks slowly, trying to tamp it down as his fingers continue tracing the features of your face. “I thought I’d have to wait forever to meet you, to have you with me. When we met at Valley Tavern, I felt it, you know? I could feel that it was you. And I was so relieved, and yet I was also so worried that you’d forget me.”
His voice almost breaks on the last word, but he clears his throat, hand falling away from your face to rest limply at his side. “When I walked into Piper’s that day, for the first time, I was so scared that you’d have forgotten me that week. Every time we saw one another, I felt myself bracing for it. But then you’d look at me and you’d smile, and I felt like I was flying. Every morning I woke up next to you and had you there, it was worth it. I was still on eggshells, waiting for you to forget me, or anything about me, but this whole time…”
The tears that fall from his face break your heart into pieces, and you’ve never been more upset with yourself in your life than you are right now. If Sam were to decide he needed time apart to process this, you’d grant it to him. You’d give him anything he needed.
You wait for him, reaching up to brush the tears from his face. It takes you by surprise when he turns his head into your touch, pressing a kiss to your palm. Then he’s sliding off the couch, joining you on the floor and pulling you into his arms.
There’s a breath of relief that leaves your chest when you’re in his embrace, and you start to sob, fat wet tears rolling down your cheeks as you bury your face into his shirt. His chest stutters as he tucks your head under his chin, and you both sit there for a moment to cry it out.
You know you’re crying out of anger towards yourself, frustration at how you handled the situation, and fear that he’d leave you. You’re not completely sure why he’s crying. You know there’s relief for him, confirmation of something he’d been desperate to know that you’d selfishly kept from him, but the rest has that fear gripping at your heart with barbed wire.
“I’m so sorry, Sammy,” you choke out, uncaring of how terrible you sound. “I’m so sorry, I never meant to hurt you.”
“I know, baby.” He says, pressing kisses to your hairline. “I know. It’s okay. We’ll figure it out, okay? We’ll figure it out.”
His words break your heart even more, and you continue to cry. You both stay like that for what feels like hours, until eventually he picks you up, guiding you both to your room, then your bathroom.
Sam takes care of the both of you - making sure you shower, wash your face, brush your teeth - and it’s so much more than you deserve. He dresses you in one of his shirts from his drawer before he settles you both into bed, where you sleep through the night with your arms wrapped around one another.
When you wake in the morning, your heart is still heavy, and your head hurts from all the crying, but you force yourself out of bed, carefully extracting yourself from his arms to brush your teeth before you head into the kitchen to make breakfast for you both.
It’s a welcome distraction, and you allow yourself to get lost in it until you hear him pad out from your room.
“Are you hungry?” You ask, back still turned as you flip the french toast over for the last time, then flipping off the burner. “I made-”
Words die in your throat when you finally turn to face him, and you nearly drop the spatula on the floor when you see him there, dressed in his jeans and his shirt from last night, a sheepish smile on his face.
“What are you…” Your voice trails off when you see the way he takes in your apartment, like he’s never seen it before, and then his eyes fall on you.
“Hi there.”
That signature smile with all his boyish charm is on his face as he says it, and you drop the spatula.
You swear you feel your heart drop to the floor with it, shattering in a million pieces.
No. You beg the universe. Please, no. Not like this.
The universe does not listen.
He is gone.
Your “Sam” is gone.
“I’m Sam. I don’t know if I said that when we uh…met? Properly? Last night. What’s your name?”
He winces after he asks, almost as if he’s made a mistake by doing so.
This isn’t funny, you want to say. Don’t do this to me.
But it’s the truth.
You murmur your name. It’s so quiet that even you can barely hear it, but Sam seems to hear it just fine.
“It’s nice to meet you,” he says. It’s so genuine that you almost feel like dropping to your knees right there.
You don’t respond to him. You can’t. You’re too focused on trying not to cry, on trying to refrain from throwing yourself at him and begging him to remember you, just this once.
To not let history repeat itself.
You didn’t realize how much you didn’t miss the way you’d been used to him forgetting you over and over until he finally remembered you long enough.
Long enough to make it hurt.
He doesn’t see the internal war you’re fighting and losing, and he keeps talking. “I’m really sorry, genuinely, since you made breakfast, which is really nice of you to do, by the way. But I um…I’ve got to go.” He says, clearly embarrassed, pointing toward your front door.
All you can do is nod, swallowing past the lump in your throat and biting the inside of your cheek so hard you can’t guarantee you’re not bleeding.
Sam heads to the door, toeing on his shoes, patting his pockets for his wallet and keys. You’re rooted to your spot, too terrified to move, tracking every step with your eyes. Just before he reaches the door handle, he turns to you, a torn expression on his face.
“I um…this is going to be embarrassing for me to say, but I feel like I have to. I don’t remember last night, like…any of it. And that’s probably my fault, so I’m sorry if I took advantage of you, or if I crossed a line.”
This, unfortunately, does warrant a response. Because even if you can feel your soul being ripped to shreds, the last thing you want is for him to somehow turn himself into the villain of this story, when it’s definitely not him.
It’s you.
But he doesn’t know that.
Not anymore.
“It wasn’t like that.” You assure him. “You didn’t take advantage of me.”
A small smile creeps onto the corner of his mouth. You know he’s trying not to show how relieved he is.
You hate yourself for how familiar you’ve become with him, only to lose it of your own accord.
“Okay,” he says. “That’s good.”
Sam undoes the lock and opens the door, stepping through it and into the hall. He turns to you, and your battered soul succumbs to defeat when you see the caring smile on his face.
“Lock up behind me, okay? It was nice meeting you.”
You nod once, and then he’s pulling the door shut, the automatic lock snicking back into place, and then there’s silence.
You fall to the floor in a heap on your knees, allowing your sobs to fill the room, sadness and emptiness settling in.
~
Despite your better judgment, you head out the next morning, thinking you’ll see him.
You don’t.
~
You don’t see him the next day, either.
~
Or the next day.
~
Or the day after that.
~
Three weeks go by, and there’s a text from Nathan and a text from Serena on your phone.
Serena
Babe, please call me. I just want to make sure you’re okay
You ignore it.
Nate Mac
Did you break up? Why can’t Sammy remember you?
You ignore that one, too.
~
At first, there was a part of you that had hoped.
You hoped that it wasn’t going to be like before, where he would forget you so quickly and move on. You hoped that there would be a day where his memories would kick in and he would show up with his boyish smile and your favorite take out, apologizing for his momentary lapse.
You had hoped that every time your friends, his friends, or a teammate texted or called, that they’d tell you that he remembered.
They didn’t.
He didn’t.
Perhaps this was fate’s cruel way of punishing you for resisting him - your soulmate - for doubting him and keeping the fact that you were soulmates to begin with a secret.
You used to know exactly what to expect from Sam.
This hadn’t been anything like those times before.
Before, you didn’t know him. You knew his lips, his touch, his charm, his usual game. You didn’t know how sweet he could be to you, how loyal, how devoted and attentive and kind and wonderful and intelligent and everything you’d never imagined.
Before, you didn’t know what it felt like to wake up next to him, didn’t know what it felt like to have his arms wrapped around you as morning crept in, didn’t know what it felt like to have him squeeze you tighter to his body before he even opened his eyes because he wanted to be close to you.
Before, you didn’t know how his eyes crinkle when you made him laugh. You didn’t know how he loved eating breakfast together in the morning with you. You didn’t know how he always kept an arm around you when you were out because he didn’t want you to be too far from him.
You didn’t know he’d been waiting for you.
You didn’t know he’d been afraid of you being the one to forget him.
You didn’t know that he held every single bit of hope that you had about finding, loving, keeping, and remembering your soulmate in the palm of his hands.
You didn’t know that this whole time, you’d been hoping, wishing, praying, that everything you feared soulmates were and all the heartbreak that came with it wasn’t true.
And when it had finally been about five months since you’d seen him last, you stopped hoping.
~
“What did you do when your husband forgot you?” You had asked your teacher after class, voice quiet and shy.
“What do you mean?” She’d asked. It was judgemental, it was a clarifying question, and you recognized it, but you still felt put on the spot.
“You said there were ways to help them remember when they forgot you. You said you and your husband were on and off for ten years before he remembered you. Did you help him? Or...”
She smiled at you, keeping her expression neutral, but her smile was still gentle. “I gave him things that helped him remember.”
Your brows had furrowed at that, unsure of what she meant. “Gave him things? Like what?”
She sat back in her chair, exhaling a small breath. “It’s different for everyone, but sometimes little reminders or hints of who you are help jog their memory.”
“Reminders like what?” You pressed. “Like a diary? Or a picture?”
This time her expression turned placating, and you frowned. “It’s different for everyone,” she says again gently. “When the time comes, if the time comes, you’ll have to figure it out for yourselves.”
~
“Oh,” you say when you open the door, definitely not expecting the people on the other side.
Gabe Landeskog and his wife Melissa are standing there, Melissa with a fresh bouquet of flowers and Gabe with an empty plastic bin that manages to look small in his grasp.
You feel like the principal just showed up and you’re in deep trouble.
Which, if they’re here, you most likely are.
Your throat goes dry.
You suppose they’re here to get Sam's belongings, so you step to the side with as polite a smile as you can manage and say “Come in.”
Mel smiles warmly at you once they’re inside and you shut the door behind you. She takes you by surprise, embracing you in a warm hug and then handing the flowers to you.
“Happy Birthday!” She exclaims.
Oh.
She remembered.
That was…nice of her.
“Thank you,” you say honestly, then look between her and Gabe, uneasy.
“I uh…I had a feeling you’d be by but I wasn’t sure when. Had I known you were coming I would’ve organized a bit better but um…” you shift your weight from foot to foot. Mel looks confused, Gabe even more so, so you barrel on. “Um, make yourselves at home, help yourselves to whatever’s in the kitchen. I’ll be right back.”
You turn on your heel and head to your room, placing the flowers on the nightstand to exchange it for Sam's watch that’s been sitting there.
He must have been in such a panic that morning, waking up in a stranger’s apartment, that he missed that it was there. And of course, he probably didn’t think to check if he had your number, so there was no way for him to ask for it back.
Technically, you could’ve just given it back - you could’ve given it to anyone of the people who’d been reaching out to you. But you couldn’t bring yourself to part with it.
Now though, you suppose you don’t have much of a choice.
You move around the room on autopilot - collecting all the crumbs of him there and try not to cry as you go.
His hoodie from your closet, the few shirts and sweatpants, a few pairs of briefs, a pair of his socks from his designated drawer in your dresser - your drawer, technically, again, now - along with a pair of shorts, a tank top, and swim trunks, his tie from your vanity, another shirt from the laundry you washed this morning, another hoodie from where it rests on your chair.
You have it all in a neat pile when you come back to your living room and nearly drop it when you see Mel and Gabe on opposite sides of your kitchen island, Mel making drinks for three and Gabe elbow deep in a container of cookies.
They don’t look sheepish or embarrassed, and you expect nothing less, honestly, but it still feels weird that they’d feel so comfortable here.
Here. In the home of their friend’s technically ex-girlfriend and ex-soulmate who harbored all those secrets from him.
You shake it off, heading over to them since Gabe has the plastic bin at his feet from where he sits on one of your barstools, and carefully place Sam's belongings inside.
“I think that’s everything, but if…if you guys think he’s missing something, just let me know and I can look for it.”
Gabe raises a brow at you, then at the contents of the bin, then back to his wife, who slides a glass filled with a pretty orange liquid across the counter to you, then to her husband, before topping it with a lime.
“What’s all this?” Gabe questions, voice slightly muffled by the bite of the cookie in his mouth, gesturing to Sam's clothes with the other half of the cookie still in his hand.
You raise a brow. “His clothes? His stuff he left here?”
“Oh babe,” Mel says, shaking her head. “No no, the bin isn’t for Sam's things. It’s for yours.”
You blink. “What?”
Gabe swallows his cookie and clears his throat before he speaks.
“I was the one who forgot, back then. I couldn’t remember a lot of things about Mel, at first, but I never forgot her. The first time I actually forgot her was two weeks before our wedding, and it was awful. I couldn’t remember her even though she was right in front of me.”
“I was so sad,” Mel remembers, but she doesn’t sound sad. If anything, she sounds fond. “I was pretty pissed, too. I was in a bikini and he didn’t even recognize me.”
Gabe rolls his eyes, then turns back to you. “My mom had remembered that when she used to forget things about my dad, he would give her things like his clothes or his journal, a book he told her he had read, and it helped her remember him because she had pieces of my dad to jog her memory. My mom brought me the blanket Mel liked cuddling on the couch with and the shirt of mine Mel always wore, even her pillow with the pillowcase on it, to help me remember.”
“Did it work?” You ask, voice hesitant, unsure. You know where this is going, but you don’t doubt it.
“It did.” Gabe nods. “I felt like I was missing a piece of myself when I forgot her, I was sad, angry, and no one would tell me anything. But the second I had her stuff, it came back to me. Not all at once, it was slow, but it worked. I remembered her after about four days. I remembered it all.”
“What triggered it?” You ask. “What happened that made you forget?”
“I thought it was because he got cold feet,” Mel answers. “But it was actually because he was so nervous about things going so perfectly right that he just sort of…panicked? I guess.”
“I wanted it to be perfect for Mel,” Gabe explains. “I panicked thinking it wouldn’t be, that I wouldn’t be.”
“And you think…you think if I give Sam some of my things, that he’ll remember me again?”
Gabe nods, grabbing another cookie. “I don’t think it, I know it.”
You frown. “But…it’s been five months. Why…why now?”
Why are you both here now? Is what you want to ask. What’s changed? Is he okay?
You don’t. You don’t really think you deserve to know, but you want to anyway.
Gabe reaches for another cookie, but drops it, putting the container on the kitchen counter in front of him. “Well, Sam, he…he said he…saw you. Yesterday.”
That shocks you. You run through what you did yesterday - work, pilates, book store, grocery store - but you don’t remember seeing Sam at all.
“He was at the grocery store. He said he saw you, from behind, and you were wearing his shirt. The same one he saw you in on the morning when he…” His voice trails off, and you can tell he’s trying to be careful, but it doesn’t sting anymore.
“When he forgot that day,” you finish for him, and Gabe nods.
“Yeah. He recognized you yesterday. Said there was something familiar about you, that he felt like he knew you beyond the one night stand he thought you had. He asked the rest of us if we knew anything.”
You shake your head. “I can understand that. I just mean…why are you trying to help us now?”
Help me. You think bitterly.
“We didn’t know what happened.” Mel says gently. “You wouldn’t…you wouldn’t talk to anyone. Even Serena said she couldn’t get the full story out of you, just that he forgot. It wasn’t until Sam mentioned it to some of the guys, and Nate told Serena about it, that we understood.”
You chew nervously on your bottom lip. “Serena told you?”
Mel smiles. “She told us what she knew. Don’t be too angry with her. She was just trying to help.”
“I’m not,” you insist. “I just guess I’m surprised she didn’t tell you anything earlier.”
“You weren’t very talkative about it earlier,” Gabe points out. “She said you didn’t say anything about it till a month went by.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Mel finally asks. “Why didn’t you tell someone?”
“I didn’t know how to,” you admit. “I didn’t…every time we’d met before, he’d forget me in twenty four hours. That first date, when he remembered me even after a week - it had never happened before. I didn’t think it was even possible. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to forget, but he never did. So it never seemed important.”
Mel offers an understanding and sympathetic smile. “Until it was.”
You nod, swallowing past the sudden lump in your throat. “It’s fine. It was my fault anyway. I shouldn’t have kept it from him.”
“No one blames you for it,” Mel reassures you. “Everyone understands, really. And Sam will probably understand when it comes back to him.”
“If it comes back to him,” you correct.
Gabe shakes his head. “When. He will remember, just give him some time.”
You smile sadly at both of them. “Time is all I have.”
~
You were curled up in a corner booth of Piper’s leaning into the L-shaped seat while you focused on your laptop, trying to sort through all the photos from the design shoot you’d done the day before. Every now and again, you could see Serena checking in on you from behind the counter, and you would always meet her eyes with a reassuring smile.
You knew why she was concerned, knew Jenna and Eddie kept coming around every ten minutes for the same reason, but you were fine now.
The loss didn’t hurt as much anymore.
You let time pass as you focus, accepting refills of your orange juice and water and welcoming the fresh basket of fries that Eddie brings you when you’d been there for about two hours.
When a random shiver runs down your spine, electricity pricking on the back of your neck, you pick your head up abruptly, scanning your surroundings. You had put your headphones on to try to stay focused, noise cancellation activated, so you knew it wasn’t that you’d heard some phantom voice call your name.
No, someone was staring at you. You still had an uncanny capability for sensing when someone's eyes lingered just a second too long for it to be a passing glance.
A cursory glance around Piper’s brought you up empty. You try again, glancing around a little slower, yet still nothing. No one seemed to be paying attention to you, which was fine, but you could’ve sworn…
Slowly, you leaned forward to look out the glass of the front door, scanning the street.
Still nothing.
Shaking off the lingering electricity, you settle back against your chair, squeezing your eyes tight before focusing back on your screen. Flexing your fingers, you’re just about to scroll through the next set of photos when you can see someone approaching from in front of you.
Assuming it’s Serena, or Jenna, or Eddie, you pick your head up again, and try to keep your expression neutral while your gut twists painfully at what you see instead.
It was…him.
Sam.
But…how?
He waits until you pull your headphones from your ears to rest them around your neck before he speaks.
“Hi there.”
You blink at his gentle greeting, hands falling into your jean-clad lap.
“Hi there,” you all but squeak.
He looked…good. Not that it was difficult for him. He donned light jeans, a gray sweater, and black jacket.
It took his small smile for your heart to plummet to your feet, and he gestures to the booth. “Is this seat taken?”
You shake your head, closing your laptop, photos be damned. “No, uh, feel free.”
For a second, you don’t know whether to be optimistic, or to play it natural, go back into the flow of how it all used to be.
You really didn’t want to, but it was a logical possibility given everything that happened, no matter how much it stung.
Instead, you’re surprised when Sam drops into the booth, another of his small smiles quirking up the corner of his lips. “I saw you outside.” He admits. “I was just walking by, and I saw you and I had to come in and say hi.”
So that explained that. You knew you weren’t going crazy.
It also slightly hurt that he could still send that zip up your spine after all this time.
“Oh.” Was all you could come up with.
Nearly six months since you’d last seen him, a year to the day at Valley Tavern, Sam Malinski, your soulmate, walked back into your life.
It seemed too good to be true, and you couldn’t help but feel like he was a complete stranger in this moment.
He says your name, and you blink at him, completely stunned. He laughs a little at your expression, offering a small smile. “I don’t know how to say this,” Sam begins, resting his hands on the table. “And I can imagine this has been a lot for you, and I’m really sorry. I didn’t…I didn’t mean to be away for so long, but with the team, and trying to get my memories back, I didn’t want to see you again until I remembered.”
Wait…what?
“You…” you start, “You remember?”
Sam nods, smiling when he says “I do. Hi baby.”
The relieved laugh that puffs out of your chest makes you feel almost delirious, and when Sam turns his palm upside down, you barely contain the excitement that runs through you when you rest your hand in his. He squeezes tight, pressing a kiss to the back of it before resting it back on the table.
“It took me a long time.” He admits. “I kept seeing you everywhere. In passing, from a distance, everything. I knew who you were, I could still feel it, but I knew I was missing something. With Mel and Gabe…they were right. Having your things really helped, and Parker nearly dragged me here every Sunday he could once I started to cause he thought it would speed things up. It did, I mean, kind of, but I had to be sure. When I saw you from outside just now, I admit I wasn’t sure about coming in. I didn’t want to come back to you until I knew for certain I didn’t forget a single thing, but I couldn’t take being away anymore.”
You nod in understanding, smiling at him reassuringly. “It’s okay, I understand. I put you through a lot, and-”
“No.” Sam insists. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. And no one blames you for it, especially me. It was all you knew, before, and all I can say is that I’m sorry.”
You shake your head, trying to keep the happy and bittersweet tears at bay. “Nothing to be sorry for.”
“There is,” he insists. “I didn’t mean for that to be all you knew. I didn’t mean for that to be your constant, and I promise, I swear to you that I will change it. If it happens again, all that I ask is that you help me remember.”
“I’ll do that,” you promise. “I will.”
Sam smiles, knocking his feet against yours under the table. “I’m sorry I didn’t eat your french toast that morning.”
You laugh, shaking your head. “It’s okay, I can make it for you whenever you want.”
“What about tomorrow morning?” He asks. “If that works for you.”
“That works for me,” you confirm, allowing the kilowatt smile to take over your face.
Sam nods, squeezing your hands again, standing up to lean over the table and press a soft, gentle kiss to your forehead. “Thank you for always waiting for me, baby. I promise you won’t have to anymore.”
“I’d wait for you forever,” You tell him, because it’s true. This whole ridiculous prophecy you’d been gifted of him forgetting you was long gone. You and Sam were in this now, for real.
Even if tomorrow morning, he woke up again and didn’t remember you, you wouldn’t let him leave anymore.
You’d make him french toast, sit him down, and tell him your story.
actually very very grateful for the online slash long distance friendships and connections ive made on this hellsite and i don’t think i say that enough but!!!!!!!! i love you all so so much besties in my phone
My previous post got extremely unwieldy so I'm starting a fresh one for everything that is currently in my inbox. Please still consider looking at the campaigns in the old post as well though!
Including percentages as well, the ones in red are less than 10% of the way to their goals so could especially use support
a/n: this is a part three to "a taste of the divine," and you can read part one here and part two here! this is all because of @smileysvech and her moodboard. gif is courtesy of @pyotrkochetkov because I think it contributes to remind you all how broad this man is, for absolutely no particular reason. title is from "railway" by bang chan of stray kids.
summary: andrei buys a new car, and you both take it out on a test drive.
word count: 8,680
tags: five year age gap, older woman x younger man, fluff, l-bombs, previously established dynamics (including msub x fdom dynamics, switch, mdom x fsub dynamics - in this fic, mainly mdom x fsub, andrei is a pleasure dom/service dom if you can't tell), smut, morning sex, oral sex, drool/spit kink, car sex and therefore semi-public sex, penetration, finish inside, unprotected sex
Russian terms used (bearing in mind the author does not speak Russian and definitely Google’d these) can be referenced here.
***the events in piece this are pure fiction and are potentially dangerous, therefore please drive responsibly (ya filthy animals)
You purse your lips, eyes flicking up between Andrei and his sheepish smile, and back toward the brand new cherry red Lamborghini Urus sitting in the driveway behind him. It's sleek, shining in the Raleigh sun, and the sparkle of the rims in the afternoon light screams dollar signs back at you.
You absolutely do not sigh.
The only reason you recognize the car is because you’d seen Andrei looking it up on his phone a few times over the last couple of weeks, and now that it’s in front of you, you don’t know how you didn’t put two and two together before.
From where you stand inside your shared three car garage, your Range Rover rests on your right, and Andrei's black Mercedes S-Class and his green BMW sit in the other two spots to your left.
Andrei’s new toy is definitely not going to fit in here.
"I traded my other Lambo in for this one," he explains, the smile impossibly wide on his lips.
"Who is it for?" You ask, though you don’t know why, considering it’s obvious, and Andrei flashes you a kilowatt smile.
"It's mine!" He exclaims. "You can use it too, obviously, if you want to. You can use any of my cars, you know that."
You hum noncommittally, glancing at the car again, then back at your clearly very excited boyfriend.
"Well?" He asks, antsy, practically bouncing on the heels of his feet.
"It's really nice, malysh." You say honestly, because it is a very nice car, despite being far less discrete than the other two sitting next to you. It's also subtly flashier than his last one, and certainly more roomy. His old Lambo was a classic two-door, two-seater deal.
At least this one has a backseat.
"But...?" He asks, taking a step closer to you.
You shrug, welcoming him when he wraps his arms around your waist. "Does Daniel know?"
Andrei scrunches his nose. Daniel's his accountant, who Andrei is usually good at calling before he makes big purchases like this. "It wouldn't be here if I didn't call him."
You pinch his side lightly, "Don't get sassy, I'm just making sure."
"I'm not," he protests, the slight whine in his voice not going unnoticed. "But you don't like it."
You frown, shaking your head, "That's not true, I said it was really nice."
"That doesn't mean that you like it." Andrei points out.
Carefully, you withdraw from his embrace and lean back against the door of your Ranger Rover. You consider your words carefully, because you know what it means to him to be able to spoil you, his family, and himself. But this is...well, kind of a lot.
He surprised you with the Range Rover for your birthday, which you had been eternally grateful for - your thighs throb a little with the memory of just how thoroughly you'd thanked him for it - but that was only a couple of months ago.
And a month before that - when you agreed to move in together as opposed to continuing the long sleepovers at the other's house - he'd moved the two of you into your current home. It had a three car garage, huge backyard, and a master bedroom with the most ridiculously large bathroom you'd ever seen in your life.
So this was a bit…well…
You weren’t the kind of person who dictated how others lived their lives or spent their money. And it wasn’t like Andrei didn’t have money.
But, you remember a conversation the two of you had early on in your relationship. Andrei held you tight in his arms as you lounged on a chair by his pool, gazing at the stars as his fire pit kept you both warm. He’d told you about his upbringing, about the things his parents did and how much they sacrificed for him and his brother to keep them safe so that they’d be able to pursue their dreams.
He told you about what it was like to feel the want for things, both out of survival and desire. He told you about how being in the position he was in empowered him to give back to his family and to himself to make sure he never felt that want ever again.
So…
While you understood all of that, the shiny new car in front of you still gives you pause.
“As long as you’re happy,” you say, “then I’m happy with it.”
Andrei stares, considering the - what you hope is neutral - expression on your face. Whatever he sees there doesn’t convince him though, so he pulls you back to him, looping his arms around your waist and pressing his lips to your forehead.
“You trust me don't you?” he asks.
You're nodding without a second's worth of hesitation. "Of course I do."
"Then I'll show you it's worth it."
You’re not entirely sure what he means, or how he plans on doing that, but you nod anyway, tilting your head back so you can kiss the sharp angle of his jaw. “Okay, malysh. But you’d better park that new ride in the garage. You can move my car into the driveway.”
~
There’s a delicate caress to your waist that coaxes you from your mid morning nap, followed by gentle kisses that trace the line of your jaw, then neck.
You stir, exhaustion still running rampant in your body, shifting to lay on your back.
"Kroshka," Andrei murmurs. You feel when he makes his way under the covers, lifting up his shirt that you wore to bed to expose your bare lower half.
He carefully rests your thighs over his shoulders, placing kisses to each as he goes, before you feel a kiss to your sternum, your belly, and then a kiss to your core, before he hums to himself, content. His hands rest on your waist, fingers gripping your body in a way that anchors him to you.
His tongue is warm and gentle against your skin when he takes his first taste, and you stir a little more, back arching in a stretch.
Andrei makes a soft noise to calm you, reassure you, and you smile, hands disappearing under the covers. Your fingers tangle in his hair, and you can feel when he smiles against you. He tilts his head to meet the touch of your other hand, where you gently caress his cheek, thumbing against his jaw.
"My love," you say sweetly, and he presses a kiss to your palm.
"My love" he says in turn, turning back to your pussy. You welcome the open mouthed kisses he presses there, the long and filthy licks he gives you in between, moaning when he sucks your clit into his mouth, rubbing his tongue against it in a way that makes you dizzy.
You arch into his mouth, both hands diving into his hair as you giggle, scratching gently at his scalp.
"Won't you come up here and kiss me properly?" You tease, tugging lightly at the strands before your hands fall to your sides.
He laughs, pressing noisy kisses to your skin. Andrei wiggles dramatically, your thighs still draped over his shoulders as his head pops out from under the covers, body bending you in half a little. His hair is a mess from your hands, lips pink and wet, smile dazzling you.
You can't help but think of how cute he looks like this.
"Hi beautiful." He says, eyes crinkling with his smile.
You return his smile with a bright one of your own, arms reaching out for him. "Hi handsome.”
“Have a good nap?”
You nod, “I did. Can I have a kiss?"
He goes to you, eager as always. Your arms wrap around his neck, fingers dancing at his nape. His kiss is soft, gentle at first, like he’s coaxing you to fully wake up, drawing the exhaustion from you with his mouth. Your lips fit together like puzzle pieces as they move, exchanging delicate kisses back and forth as the mid morning sun creeps in through a small gap in the curtains.
It’s not long before you’re more awake, more aware of the fire pooling in your belly, and your tongue teases at the seam of his lips, turning your kisses dirty in an instant.
You moan when you can taste yourself on his lips, head going dizzy. He moves his arms, allowing your legs to drop from his shoulders so you can wrap them around his naked waist.
You lock your ankles at the small of his back, arching into him, pussy rubbing against his hard cock. He’d worn briefs to bed, and after you two went for a run this morning, then came back to shower and eat breakfast, he’d changed again, and was definitely dressed before your nap, but had clearly shed them before he decided to wake you.
Little shit.
You’re usually sensitive in the mornings anyway, so when his cock brushes against your folds, Andrei grinding himself against you, and your nipples brush against the fabric of your sleep shirt as you press against his bare chest, you feel yourself getting wetter, mouth dropping open in a whine.
He makes the already filthy kiss filthier when he slips his tongue in your mouth, caressing it against your own, almost massaging it. You reciprocate, and he takes you by surprise when he sucks on your tongue, Andrei moaning in approval.
The noises his mouth makes as he sucks on your tongue echo in your brain, bouncing around the edges and intensifying the haze of arousal. Andrei presses his hips tighter against you, the slide of his cock up and down along your pussy getting easier and more slippery with each passing second.
The haze clears for a second when you feel the head of his cock catch at your entrance, and your hands trail from the back of his neck to his shoulders, pushing at him. He parts from you with a small dissatisfied noise, breathing heavily through his nose as he gazes down at you.
“Are you going to be good for me, shchenok?” You murmur, one hand coming up to cup his chin, thumb gently rubbing against his bottom lip.
He nods, pressing a kiss to the pad of your thumb.
"If you make me come," you start, sugary sweet. "You'll get a reward today."
Andrei's eyes flutter shut, turning his mouth to suck lightly on the tip of your index finger, tongue delicately licking at the digit. Your finger slips out of his mouth when you pull your hands away, resting them down at your sides again.
Nothing else needs to be said as Andrei wiggles his way back under the covers, settling back between your thighs and resting them on his shoulders. His mouth latches onto your pussy without preamble, tongue dragging up through your folds to taste you before the tip of it flicks against your clit. He repeats this a few times, and it draws a pleased high pitched noise from you, arching yourself closer against his mouth.
His tongue dips into your entrance and you keen out, his name leaving your lips in a breathy moan. He rests his forearms across your abdomen, pushing down just a little to anchor you to the bed, fucking his tongue in and out of you, burying his face into your pussy, nose brushing against your clit.
"Shchenok," you sigh, lifting the hem of your shirt a little higher. You wiggle your hips, trying to ease his grip on you so you can take what you want, but he's too strong, too focused and too pussy-drunk to do anything except reach up, cupping your tits in his hands and squeezing, his arms pressing down against your stomach so he can continue fucking you with his tongue, burying his face against you, stimulating your clit with gentle bobs of his nose.
You can feel your orgasm approaching quicker than you expected, and you give into it fully, hands descending back into Andrei's hair and gripping at the strands when you come, thighs tightening around his head as your body shakes, a cry of relief tearing from you throat and echoing around the bedroom. Andrei groans at the taste of your release, lapping you up and cleaning you up with his mouth at the same time.
After you've had the chance to calm down and catch your breath, you're quick to throw the covers back, taking in his flushed appearance and thoroughly mused hair. He climbs up your body a little, resting his head on your chest and his hands at your ribcage as you comb through his hair lightly, trying your best to tame it.
"Happy, kroshka?" He asks, lips brushing against the bare skin of your breasts.
"Always," you nod, pushing a happy sigh through your nose. “Do you need-”
He shakes his head. “No, I’m alright.”
You nod. Andrei’s always been the giving type, good about not always expecting things back, but even more so the longer you two stay together.
You also did promise him a reward for later, so you suppose him holding off right now isn’t so bad.
He squeezes you, burrowing his face further into your chest. "I love you so much, you know that?"
You smile, squeezing him back. "I do, Drei. I love you too."
You can feel his kilowatt smile more than see it, and your heart pounds behind your ribcage. You hear him hum to himself, which is his telltale sign that he's got something on his mind. So you wait him out, let him gather his thoughts.
"Will you go somewhere with me today?" He asks finally, fingers dancing gently where they rest on your sides. It tickles a little, causing you to squirm, and it makes Andrei laugh, pressing a small kiss to your skin in apology.
"I'll go anywhere with you," you say honestly, and mean it.
There are moments more often than not lately, especially now that you'd been together a little over a year and a half, where you felt like you two were never going to get out of this “honeymoon phase.” Maybe it’s the domesticity of living together, maybe it’s how easy the two of you fell together, or maybe it’s the optimism for the future - either way, you’d go anywhere so long as you had Andrei at your side.
He smiles, kissing your sternum once before he’s carefully climbing off of you and off the bed. You notice the small wet patch on the front of his boxers and giggle.
It also still amazed you at how easily you could turn Andrei on, how he could come without touching you, how giving you an orgasm was enough to send him into his own.
“Get dressed, kroshka,” he says, pointing at you with a mischievous smile. “Wear something pretty.”
~
About forty five minutes later you’re slipping into a sundress, grabbing your purse, and putting on your sandals as you head out to the garage, then stop the second you’re in the doorway.
The garage door is open, and you fully expect to see Andrei in the driver’s seat of your Range Rover, on his phone and waiting for you to go. Instead, your car is back in its old spot, and he’s leaning against his Lamborghini from where it sits in the driveway, his charming smile too hard to ignore.
You make your way out, locking the door behind you, and Andrei presses the garage door opener on his keys the second you’re in the driveway and in his arms.
“What’s this?” You ask, curling into his embrace.
At the hesitation in your voice, Andrei gives an easy shrug and a reassuring smile. “Thought we’d go for a drive. Maybe even along the coast.”
You raise an eyebrow at that. “The coast is two and a half hours away, Drei.”
“Good thing we have the right car to take us there then.” He wiggles his eyebrows, then makes a show of opening the passenger side door for you. “Your chariot awaits, kroshka.”
You take his outstretched hand, letting him help you into the passenger seat safely before he closes the door behind you. You take an appreciative look around as you buckle in, noting the sleek leather interior and the softness of the seat beneath you.
Andrei climbs in, buckling himself up before starting the car, and you jump a little when the rumble of the engine reverberates even through your seat, vibrating beneath you.
…Interesting.
He smirks, putting on his sunglasses before driving away, and you settle in, relaxing in your chair as the car continues to rumble under you.
~
Andrei’s been driving for about forty five minutes when you start to get antsy.
The car practically purrs beneath you, Andrei maneuvering the luxury vehicle with a practiced ease. He looks ever so handsome in his fitted black shirt, the fabric sticking tight to his muscles and accentuating the hard work he’s been putting into his body over the off season.
His jaw clenches when the road opens up in front of him, allowing him to press on the gas and send the car flying forward on the highway. The engine rumbles to life, the vibrations of the car getting stronger as you speed up, the other cars becoming a blur beside you.
The vibration rumbles against your skin, but particularly, between your thighs, and you find yourself turning your head toward the road, biting your lip to keep from making any noise.
You were still sensitive from that morning and had been turned on since then by the wheels in your brain turning to figure out what Andrei’s reward would be for being so good, the anticipation of it all sending liquid heat through your veins.
Andrei eventually slows down a little, speed plateauing, and the intense vibrations of the engine only dull down slightly. You can feel yourself getting wetter, and you end up squeezing your thighs together, trying to pass it off as nothing as you stretch your arms and then your legs, wiggling as you try to get comfortable in your seat. Your hands fall into your lap, right where the skirt of your dress rests, and you flex your fingers to stop yourself from lifting the fabric and rubbing against the cotton of your definitely soaked thong to get some reprieve.
He notices - because he notices everything about you - and rests a hand on your thigh, right above your knee, rubbing his thumb in gentle circles on your skin. “You okay, kroshka?”
You hum, nodding, trying not to focus on how warm his hand feels, how far it is from where you want him to be. “I’m okay, malysh.”
“Do you need me to take the next exit? Get food or anything?”
You want to say no, but you need a break from this goddamn car that you’re starting to think has been sent to drive you insane, so you nod instead, saying “Maybe, I think I just need something to drink.”
He nods, reaching for your hand where it rests in your lap. A little gasp almost escapes when his hand brushes against your lower belly, taking your hand in his and bringing it to his mouth to press a kiss to your knuckles, his other hand still on the wheel and driving expertly.
It’s a few minutes to the next exit, but Andrei takes it smoothly, driving till he gets to a gas station. He doesn’t need to fill up the tank quite yet, so he follows you inside to get some drinks and a couple of snacks.
You head straight for the sugary stuff - taking your time as you browse to try and calm yourself into some semblance of normal. You go about grabbing some lollipops, sour strawberry belts, a couple of chocolate bars, a pack of M&Ms and some Skittles, before heading toward the soda fridge and grabbing a Diet Cherry Vanilla Pepsi. Andrei grabs his usual chips, an energy drink, some water, and a couple of packs of his favorite gum.
Andrei usually travels with a cooler in his trunk, and he must have grabbed it before you headed out for your drive, because he also grabs a few ice cream bars and a bag of ice, before you follow him to the counter. He pays for everything, grabbing all of the bags so you can grab the receipt and get the door on the way out.
You both eat an ice cream bar each in the car before Andrei gets back on the road, slowly picking up speed about ten minutes later. He’d loaded most of your cold items in the cooler in the backseat, save the two ice cream bars you ate, your Diet Pepsi, a cherry lollipop for him and you, and his water.
He’s currently sucking on the lollipop while you quietly sip your soda, trying to focus on the lingering taste of vanilla ice cream and the cherry vanilla-esque taste of your drink instead of the heat that had been plaguing you earlier.
It works, but not for long, because soon the road opens up again and Andrei’s slowly pressing down on the gas, the engine purring to life beneath you. It’s like a rollercoaster, the way you can feel the vibration of the car slowly get more intense before it starts to rumble as Andrei reaches a higher speed.
This time, you’re not able to stifle the quiet moan that spills past your lips, and you immediately tense, clearing your throat to play it off as you put your soda in the cupholder, fidgeting in your seat.
Andrei notices.
Out of your peripheral vision, you see him turn his head to you, eyes no doubt curious behind his sunglasses, before turning back to the road. His hand returns to your knee, thumb resuming his rubbing in gentle circles as he speaks around the lollipop in his mouth.
“Kroshka?” He asks. “Are you alright?”
“Mhm,” you respond weakly, “‘M fine, Drei.”
When he doesn’t say anything back to you, you chance a glance at him yourself, and Andrei turns his head toward you, observing, before turning back to the road.
His hand squeezes your knee, and you know he knows.
It’s probably all over your face at this point, and your stomach clenches when he smirks around the lollipop, control hanging on by a thread when his hand travels up your knee, higher and higher till it’s right below the hem of your dress.
He flexes his fingers, the tips of them dancing on the insides of your thighs, and your teeth sink into your bottom lip, trying your best to tamp down the moan that threatens to spill over. Andrei speeds the car up suddenly, switching lanes, and the sudden rumble of the engine has your thighs squeezing together before you can register what’s happening, trapping Andrei’s hand there.
You pry them apart only a second later, but Andrei makes a small noise of protest.
“What’s got you like this, kroshka?” He says, lollipop tucked against his cheek. His lips are so red.
Shaking your head, you reach for your soda, taking another sip, letting the bubbles dance around your tongue to give you something else to focus on. When you put it back in the cup holder, Andrei’s hand moves from your thigh to your hand, bringing it to his mouth and wrapping your fingers around the stick of his lollipop, helping you guide it out of his mouth.
The candy leaves his lips with a soft “pop!” that nearly makes you dizzy, the sound going straight to your pussy in an almost painful throb. You can feel yourself getting wetter, the cotton of your panties probably soaked by now.
Andrei, careful as his eyes flick between you and the road, guides the lollipop to your mouth, gently pushing it past your lips to rest on your tongue. You see the way his throat works around a swallow, and you know what he’s probably seeing, imagining. Your lips wrapping around the head of his cock, sucking him like this stupid lollipop, lips bright red as his precum drips onto your tongue.
You make sure to purse your lips nice and pretty around the candy before his hand leaves yours, resting back on your thigh, squeezing once.
“Zajka,” he practically croons, his voice deep, teasing, taunting. It nearly makes your thighs squeeze together again. Instead, you try to shift a little in your seat to get comfortable again, but Andrei’s hand feels like a solid weight, keeping you still.
You pull the lollipop from your lips, the cherry flavor sticky against your lips. “Yes, malysh?” You answer.
God.
You’re shocked at the sound of your own voice, how fucked out it sounds, and that just about does it. The last grip on the control you maintained this morning is gone, slipping from your hands and right into Andrei’s lap.
It’s not like Andrei never takes control in the bedroom. He does, and he’s damn good at it, but he revels in the moments where the control is in your hands, where he can do whatever he can to please you, to be told that he’s perfect for you, being so good for you.
But when the control changes hands, when he takes charge, he takes it firmly by the reins and relishes in it, makes you question why it’s not like this all the time.
He looks at you briefly, his eyes tracing from the lollipop to your mouth, before glancing back at the road. You comply, slipping the candy past your lips to rest on your tongue, teeth biting down on the stick when you feel Andrei’s hands against your pantie clad pussy.
A pleased noise rumbles from his chest, knuckles brushing against your clit. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
You nod, a muffled “mhm” coming from your chest. He puts a little pressure behind his hand, and though you don’t mean to, your back arches, thereby taking your lower half a little bit away from his touch, and his head snaps over to you, brow raised, the corner of his mouth turned down in a slight frown.
The apology is on the tip of your tongue, but it’s too late, because he takes his attention away as well as his hand, and the loss of his touch is almost too much for you to bear, especially when he directs his attention back to the road, both hands gripping the wheel as he speeds up, the engine rumbling to life beneath you with a vengeance as the luxury car tears off down the open highway in front of you.
“You’re gonna have to be patient, zajka.” He says, voice toeing the line between stern and gentle. “I need to find somewhere for us to go so I can take care of you.”
“Mkay,” you murmur around the candy, squirming a little in your seat as the car vibrates under you once more.
Andrei laughs to himself. “I just got this car, baby,” he says pointedly, “and you’re already going to leave a wet spot?”
You say nothing, too overstimulated, too desperate for him to fight him or comment on his teasing. Between the car, Andrei’s not-enough touch, and this lollipop that you suspect was used to keep you occupied in the meantime, you’re halfway to delirious, panties soaked with arousal growing uncomfortable with each passing second. The purr of the engine feels nice, but it’s nowhere near enough to satisfy.
All it does is push you closer to the edge, but never allowing you to leap.
You can only let your eyes flutter shut as you rest your head on the window, trying to focus on your breathing, on the sticky candy in your mouth, resting on your tongue. You try to focus on anything and everything other than the luxury car sent from hell - the heat fluttering low in your belly, and Andrei’s heavy breathing from beside you.
You’re not sure how much time has passed when you feel the car finally start to slow down, too lost in the haze to process anything.
“Kroshka,” Andrei murmurs, and your eyes blink open, head turning to gaze at him. His voice is rough, the way it always sounds when he’s barely hanging on by a thread, and you squeeze your thighs together.
Taking a look around outside, you notice he’s pulling up to a hotel with a tall parking garage, and as he pulls into the guest side of the garage, you raise an eyebrow.
Pulling the lollipop from your mouth, you ask “Are we staying here or something?”
Andrei shakes his head, using one hand to take off his sunglasses and toss it onto the dashboard before he grabs a ticket from the machine, pulling forward once the arm raises. You note that the garage seems mostly empty, so you turn your body to look at him curiously, taking another sip of your soda before pushing the lollipop between your lips again, watching as he passes all of the empty spots and continues up to the next level, then the next, until he gets to the roof.
He parks in a spot at the corner of the roof, one not in the eyeline of any of the rooms of the hotel beside the garage, or one that can be seen from the street. There’s a cement base to a tall street lamp that hides the front seat of his car, obstructing the two of you from the view of the rest of the parking spots up here.
Andrei turns to you then, leaning over the center console and gently pulling the candy from between your lips. He reaches behind your chair to the backseat and grabs the plastic bag from the gas station, tossing the candy inside and then tossing that bag in the backseat before he all but launches himself back at you, pulling you to him with a hand behind your neck and seizing your mouth in a bruising kiss that has you rising up to your knees, sitting back on your calves.
A surprised noise leaves you before you moan into the kiss, loving the way his hand tangles itself in the hair at the nape of your neck, pulling your head back a little. It causes your mouth to open a little more, and Andrei takes full advantage, licking into your mouth rubbing his tongue against yours as his other hand snakes its way down your torso and into your soaked panties, Andrei passing your clit altogether and sinking two fingers into your soaked cunt, all the way down to the knuckle.
“Oh!” You cry out, arching your body towards his, and a wicked grin crosses his features.
He’s the picture of arrogance, cocky as ever as he starts to work you open on his fingers, scissoring them this way and that but never curling to touch that sensitive part of you. The noises that his fingers make as he works are obscene, echoing around the car and mixing with the little whines you let out against his mouth.
Andrei breathes them in, his lips curling around your tongue as he sucks on it, the meat of his palm grinding against your clit and sending a fresh wave of arousal through your body, dripping onto his wrist.
“Taste so good,” he says around your tongue, licking into your mouth. It’s so obscene, nasty as his spit and yours starts to trail down your chin, neck, onto your chest. He bends his head, licking it up before pushing it back into your mouth with his tongue, lips and tongue messy as he kisses you.
His fingers finally brush against that sensitive spot inside, distracted by your mouth, and you moan, grinding down on his hand only for him to grip your hair in his hand again, a warning that says “Behave” as he pulls you back just a little.
“Naughty little zajka,” he says against your lips. “You say you hate my brand new car then rub your little pussy all over the seats when the engine purrs for you, hm?”
You shake your head in protest, mewling when Andrei drags your bottom lip between his teeth before he sucks on it, pressing messy wet kisses to the corner of your mouth, chin, lips, all over as you speak. “Never said I hated it, I - nghhh!”
Your words die in your throat when Andrei starts to finger fuck you in earnest, the pads of his fingers rubbing against your g-spot each time as he fucks them in and out of you.
“Show me then,” he taunts, “Show me how much you love it. Come all over the seat, zajka. Make a mess.”
You shake your head - it’s too fast, the pressure’s just right and you’re aching for release but it’s too much too soon. Your orgasm is racing towards the finish line and you can barely catch your breath. You reach out to touch Andrei, hands landing on his forearms where you squeeze as his fingers bring you to the edge.
“Can I come, malysh?” You plead, pushing the words out through stuttering breaths.
He nods, leaning forward to bury his face into the crook of your neck and suck a bruise there, his ministrations never stopping. His fingers practically beckon you to him, beckon your orgasm out of you in their insistent “come here” motion, and when Andrei drags his teeth against your skin, fingers pressing deep against your g-spot, your eyes squeeze shut, body seizing as stars burst behind your eyelids and your orgasm overtakes you, arousal dripping down Andrei’s fingers and through your soaked panties onto the seat below you.
You can distantly hear soft sobs as Andrei’s voice pulls you out of your daze, calling for you gently, and it takes you a long moment to realize that it’s you sobbing, tears of relief streaming down your face as Andrei’s fingers inside of you keep still while his other hand holds you steady.
“So good for me, zajka,” he praises. “So beautiful. You did so good waiting for it, didn’t you? Waiting for me to make you feel better.”
Your head feels heavy when you nod lightly, and Andrei waits till you come back down a little more before he carefully and slowly withdraws his fingers from you, careful to avoid your sensitive clit as he brings his hand out from where they’ve been in your now soaked cotton underwear.
You don’t see it when his eyes glance below you, at the wet spot on the chair, and he smirks, his broad chest somehow getting ten times bigger at the sight.
You do see it when he sucks his fingers coated in your release between his lips, eyes fluttering open the moment he does so, watching with apt amazement as his eyes drift shut, lost in the taste of you.
Carefully, you rise back to your knees, arranging yourself until you’re sitting normally again so you can slump against the seat. Your chest heaves as you breathe, trying to calm your racing pulse, ignoring the fact that despite how hard Andrei just made you come, your pussy still throbs between your legs when you hear Andrei’s fingers finally leave his mouth with a wet “pop!”
It’s quiet, and for a moment you think he’s going to say something smart or cocky, tease you more, but instead, he leans over the console, hand reaching for the lever on your chair and pulling until your seat is pushed all the way back, leaving a large amount of room in the well under the dashboard in front of you.
You could almost laugh, watching Andrei and his broad, tall body maneuver itself out of his chair and across the console until he’s on his knees in front of you, pulling your legs apart gently. His hands come up to your waist, pulling your soaked underwear off of you in one go, stuffing them into the pocket of his shorts before he’s reaching for your waist again, pulling you until you’re perched on the edge of the passenger seat.
He looks up at you with a fond smile, and you can only find the energy to peer down at him with a curious look, head still thick and dizzy with your recent orgasm.
“Gonna clean you up, baby.” Andrei answers your unspoken question, pressing his hands on the back of your thighs and pushing upwards.
He moves so fast that you can barely get out an “Andrei, baby, wait-” before he buries his face in your still wet pussy, tongue pushing into your entrance.
Your back arches, mouth dropping open in a loud cry as your body unconsciously pushes your pussy further into his face, body wrought with overstimulation.
Between the time he spent between your legs this morning worshiping you with his mouth, and how he fucked you on his fingers just now, you’re more than overwhelmed, overstimulated, and spent, but you should have seen this coming. When Andrei gets like this, when he takes control, he’s prepared to wring orgasm after orgasm out of you until he gets too impatient and finally slides his cock into you to the hilt.
And lately, Andrei’s become very good at being very, very patient.
He licks and sucks at you like a starving man, like he’s been stuck in the desert and you’re his first drink of water in days. His mouth is even more insistent than this morning, tongue alternating between lapping at you, circling around your clit, dipping inside of you, and his lips sucking you into his mouth, making you buck your hips into his face. Every time you do, he moans, the vibrations rumbling against your skin, and he ends up just yanking you impossibly closer to him, hands on your waist feeling like an anchor.
You can feel your orgasm creeping up on you like a runaway train. It’s almost too much, too soon, but at the same time it’s never enough.
Since you’ve been with Andrei, it’s almost never been enough. It’s why you both end up in this constant push and pull of control, patience, restraint, restricting yourselves to “just one” or “just one more,” putting limits on yourselves until the dam breaks and the two of you end up going at it for hours.
Afterall, you two became so addicted to one another from the very beginning. There had been ten whole days between the first…well, several times…and you two entering a relationship, thereafter which you spent two unbelievable days practically glued to his bed, his shower, and your favorite, his kitchen counter, which you spent at least thirty minutes cleaning once you’d come out of your horny stupor.
Whenever Andrei gets like this, near delirious with the need to please you before he can seek any kind of relief, it takes you right back to those two days spent in his bed, to the way he made you both physically and emotionally feel his desire for you.
Now, that desire is still there, but his love always overpowers it.
It’s what drives you straight over the edge when he dips his tongue inside of you then sucks on your clit, his name falling from your lips as your hands fall over his, fingers intertwining as you shake under his mouth.
When you’ve come back down, chest heaving as you try to get your breathing under control, Andrei licks at your pussy lazily, cleaning you up with his gentle and caring attention.
You allow it for a few moments, until you realize there’s still a small fire in your belly, and you know Andrei’s probably as hard as a rock beneath his shorts.
So you squeeze his hands, offering a small smile when he looks at you.
“I said you’d get a reward, didn’t I?” You say, and Andrei nods, tongue still gentle as he licks at you again. You gesture for him to come to you, so he does, rising up on his knees, resting the back of your knees on the crook of his elbows as he carefully bends you in half. He doesn’t waste another second before he brings his lips to yours, kissing you with all the desperation and desire he can convey.
You reach for his waistband, undoing his belt, the button, and the zipper before pulling the waistband of his briefs down. Andrei helps, not breaking away from your kiss as he shimmies his clothes down his thighs until his cock springs free, red and leaking against his abdomen.
He bucks into your hand when you wrap it around his cock almost immediately, moaning into your mouth. His hands rest on either side of you gripping the cushion of your chair so tightly that his knuckles turn white at the force, every part of his body fighting to restrain itself from fucking his cock into your fist, especially when you make your grip that much tighter.
“You wanna fuck me, baby?” You murmur, moaning in surprise when he licks into your mouth, body leaning into yours that much more.
“So badly,” he asserts, sucking on your tongue the second you lick into his mouth in return. He moans, all but drooling into your mouth. He’s so desperate, so lost in your kiss and earnest in his desires that it’s a little bit messy and a little bit uncoordinated, but Andrei doesn’t care and neither do you.
You pull your head back a little, and Andrei makes a small noise of protest. “You want to do it like this? Here?”
He nods, trailing his lips to your chin, your jaw, and to your neck, his lips wet with your lingering arousal and spit. “Pozhaluysta,” he pleads, leaving open mouthed kisses at your nape.
You adjust your hips, lining him up with your entrance. His hips buck, restraint most likely breaking, and the head of his cock slips inside.
The moan that echoes around the car belongs to both of you, and you can feel Andrei’s breath stutter against your neck. “S-Sorry, moya koroleva.”
You shake your head, hands coming up to cup his face, bringing him from his hiding spot in your neck to come face to face with you. Your eyes flutter shut, and you pull him closer to rest your foreheads together. “No need to be sorry, baby,” you murmur, squeezing around the head of his cock experimentally, smiling a little when you can hear him start to whine.
“No games, Drei,” you promise, kissing him sweetly, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth, running your tongue over it gently before pressing little kisses to it. “Just you and me, okay?”
He hums against your mouth, chasing after your kisses even as he speaks. “No games?”
You shake your head gently, careful not to detach your lips from his. Andrei needs you too much to deal with the push and pull, and you’re still too needy to bother with it. You rub your thumbs against his cheekbones, murmuring against his lips when you say “I just want you.”
The sigh of relief he lets out practically stutters past his lips, and you swallow it down, breath catching in your throat when he finally pushes in a little more. He groans low and deep in his chest, hands releasing the seat cushion and fitting themselves against your waist as he continues to push his thick, long cock inside until his pelvis is flush with your ass, the head of his cock close to kissing your cervix in this position.
You both physically relax when he bottoms out, and Andrei cups his hands over yours where they rest on his face.
This is the kind of sex that Andrei loves having with you the most - the kind where you can both just lose yourselves in how good you both make each other feel, and how good it feels for you both to be able to please each other in a way that’s basically instinctual at this point. He loves being close to you, loves being attached to you in every way; buried inside you, lips attached to yours even if it’s just to kiss lazily, arms wrapped around you.
A shiver runs through your body when you feel him throb inside you, and you tug at his bottom lip gently. “Please, Drei,” you plead on an exhale, only to inhale sharply a second later when Andrei pulls his hips back, only to drive them forward and bury himself deep inside once more.
He starts at a slow pace like that, withdrawing halfway to just push himself back in, jaw clenching when you squeeze around him each time he’s buried deep inside once more. He keeps his forehead pressed against yours, his hands resting over yours, keeps your knees tucked safely in the crook of his arms. When he buries himself deep, pressing almost tightly against your cervix, he exhales through his nose, shakily breathing in on his next inhale.
A whine works its way out of your throat when he starts to pick up speed, still keeping the depth, still driving his cock in so deep that it hits that soft part inside of you that makes you see stars now each time he drives inside. It stokes the fire in your belly, pleasure rolling over you in waves.
When you squeeze down on him again he moans, low and deep, pushing a breath through his nose as he tries to keep focus, but he’s losing it so quickly. His hands finally fall from yours and grip onto your hips, setting a quicker pace, lighting you up from the inside out.
The pressure and the drag is so good for both of you that moans and whines echo around his car, and your eyes roll back into your head, hands dropping from Andrei’s face to his forearms, fingers flexing uselessly, too weak and pleasure drunk to grip onto him tightly.
Meanwhile, Andrei feels like he’s going insane. It hasn’t been long since you’d both been intimate, and it hasn’t been long since you’d both been intimate like this, but it never mattered when it came to you. You lit something on fire inside of him, walked into his heart and his soul and turned on all the lights and settled in. It was almost laughable with how good you made him feel, about anything and everything, but especially this.
He can feel a knot form at the base of his spine at the same time he starts to feel your pussy flutter and clench around him, the way your body wants to push him away and pull him deeper at the same time. Carefully, he tightens his grip on you and thrusts harder, a little faster, careful to keep you in place on his cock and not jostle you too much.
His car is definitely shaking with the force of his efforts, and the moans and whines falling from your lips start to get louder, dragging out as you both climb and race towards your orgasms. You tilt your chin up, eyes squeezed shut as your lips search for his. He captures them in a bruising kiss, groaning into your mouth as one of your hands reaches up weakly to cup his jaw.
“I love you,” you manage to choke out, pressing the declaration to his bottom lip. “I love you so much.”
A low whine of relief echoes in his throat, and Andrei leans forward, burying his face in your neck, pressing your hips down as he fucks into you with reckless abandon. “Ya tebya lyublyu,” he grunts out against your neck, sealing his words with a kiss. “Ya lyublyu tebya bol'she vsego na svete.”
His confession takes you by surprise, and you gasp, spine arching as you come and pussy squeezing him so tightly that it’s almost painful for him as he fucks you through it, bullying his cock into you as he chases after his own orgasm. When he comes, he presses deep inside, leaning into you, and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him as close as you can, your fronts pressed together.
Your heavy breathing fills the car, the silence echoing against your ears and making your head throb a little bit, but you hold tight to Andrei, feeling his chest heave against yours as he tries to get his breathing under control. He drops your legs after a moment, and you stretch them delicately behind him before locking your ankles at the base of his spine.
“I like your car,” you eventually say.
The silence that follows is brief, Andrei cutting it when he laughs out loud, and you can feel his teeth press into your skin with how wide he smiles from where he’s still hiding in your neck. He noses along the length of it, nuzzling that ticklish spot under your ear, and then presses a kiss there, whispering a soft thank you.
He’s still weakly pulsing inside of you, and you willingly wait him out, content to just sit here with an armful of your doting boyfriend who just fucked you silly in the front seat of his stupidly expensive luxury car that secretly (apparently) doubled as a vibrator.
“There’s baby wipes,” he says eventually. “In the glove compartment. We can throw the wipes in the bag from the gas station.”
You raise a brow. “Did you come prepared for this?”
He shakes his head, slowly pulling himself back to look at you. His face is flushed, pupils blown wide a little, gaze still slightly hazy. “Not completely, but I brought them just in case.”
Carefully, he twists his upper body a little so he can turn and open the glove compartment, taking a few of the wipes out and turning back to you with a happy grin. You smile, pressing a quick peck to his lips. “My smart guy.”
Andrei chases after your mouth, and you let him catch you, savoring the delicate kiss he gives you. He presses three more to your lips. “Gonna pull out now, baby. Gonna clean you up.”
You nod, fully relaxing back against the seat and unlocking your ankles from behind him. He carefully withdraws himself, and is quick to begin cleaning you up with the wipes when his come starts to immediately fall out of you.
You’re not surprised at how much there ended up being - he had been pent up since the morning, after all.
You reach behind you to where the plastic bag with your lollipop fell to behind his seat, and you hold it open for him as he deposits the wipes before tying it off and putting it back behind his chair. He carefully massages your legs, offering you a wolfish smile.
“Should we keep driving?” He asks, “Or should I maybe book us a room here? Since we’ve basically commandeered the roof of their parking lot.”
You smirk at him. “Fucking in a Lamborghini not enough for you?”
“It’s never enough when it’s you,” he says. Even though it comes out playfully, you can hear the seriousness in his voice.
You reach out, running a hand down his front. “Let’s go home, actually. The coast can wait another day.” When he looks at you, confused, since he didn’t mention that as an option, you smile mischievously at him. “I want to suck your cock while you drive and see how many times I can make you come by the time we get home.”
He blinks at you, stunned, before he’s fumbling, pulling his briefs and pants up before all but launching him out of the passenger side of the car and racing back to the driver’s seat.
You can do nothing but grab the hair tie on your wrist and pull your hair into a ponytail, a content feeling running through your veins.
You could definitely get used to having this car around.
