My avocado don’t
It’s been a really shitty day.
James finds you down by the lake after a particularly heated argument you’d just fled with Albus. Albus has been acting strange for weeks, stranger than he usually did; which is saying something. You’d left the claustrophobic confines of the dungeons for the warmth of the grounds, carefully choosing your location for the absolute lack of company.
Of course, you should have known he would find you, he always finds you.
“I wanna douse you in green paint and spank you like the disobedient avocado that you are.” You hadn’t even heard him approach, the stealthy little fucker.
You aren’t really in the mood for a battle of insane wits with James but it doesn’t stop your heart from racing at the mere sound of his voice, traitorous, useless lump of muscle that it was.
A soft sigh escapes your parted lips and you lift your gaze from the yellowed grass to peer intently at him, the soft lines of your expression wrinkled with a frown. “At this point, I’d welcome your green hate-fucking with open arms.” You mutter as you reach down blindly and grab at the dry grass, managing to pluck several blades out between your fingers. “It goes without saying that you’d have to catch me first, though.” You add with a faint smile, which doesn’t seem to affect him either way.
James rounds the boulder he was leaning against and drops down on his knees in front of you, his watchful gaze raking all over you and silently assessing your current tolerance levels like it always did. “Who said anything about fucking?” He asks casually, still wearing that blank expression. “I just want to slap you around a little bit.” He adds, shrugging a shoulder as if it doesn’t matter either way.
You cannot help but laugh and you have no idea how he manages to do it, every single time. No matter what mood you were in or how shitty your day was, the few stolen moments you spend with Jamie on any given day always turn you upside down and inside out.
You know you should be concerned with Jamie’s offhanded remark but you can only be amused by the absurdity of his introductions. Maybe he used his psychotic sense of humor as a crutch to keep people at bay, or maybe he really was that crazy. You honestly had no fucking clue anymore. “Same thing,” You mutter, returning his shrug with slightly less enthusiasm.
Just then he gasps, scandalized. “DO YOU HAVE AN AVOCADO KINK?” He shouts, planting his hands on his bent knees and leaning close enough to invade your personal space.
You stare at him for a long moment, unsure of how you want to steer this conversation. It would be very easy for you to tell him to piss off and continue your morose pity party, but maybe you don’t want to. Maybe you want him to stay with you longer than a fleeting moment, and maybe you are prepared to sink to his level to get it.
“What do you mean DO I HAVE AN AVOCADO KINK??? Did you NOT receive my sexy avocado image last week? The corners of your mouth curve into a smirk as you speak and you drop the blades of crushed grass between your fingers and lean back on your elbows and try to appear casually indifferent.
James quirks a brow at you and seems to consider his next words carefully before responding. You have no idea if he’s playing along or playing with you and you don’t even care anymore. “You mean THIS?” He asks incredulously, reaching into the back pocket of his trousers and producing a crumbled up scrap of parchment with a crude stick-figure drawing of a boy with curly dark hair and blue dots for eyes. “HOLY FUCK! That was YOU?!” He adds loudly, playing the part of shock and surprise extremely well.
You eye him intently and shake your head, a soft laugh escaping you. “No,” You say, reaching into the abandoned book bag at your side and feeling around blindly inside. “I mean this.” You add, all but ripping a picture of an anteater licking an avocado skin out and thrusting in his direction.
Jamie takes the picture from you and stares down at it a long time before his mouth curves into a wicked grin and when he peers at you from beneath a fan of lashes your chest tightens sharply and suddenly.
“Did you know,” He says, leaning forward and planting his open palms in the grass on either side of you. “That ‘anteater licking an avocado’ is an ancient Aztec metaphor for analingus?”
He’s leaning over you now, staring down at you with enough force that you find yourself desperate for his touch. You know this is just a game, it’s always just a game, but god damn do you want to play.
“Obviously.” You say with a shaky voice, pausing to clear your throat before continuing. “I mean, I didn’t choose the image totally at random or anything.” You add, and then you catch the corner of your bottom lip between your teeth and you hold your breath and you wait.
“My anaconda don’t want none unless you got avocados, son.” He murmurs, leaning down over you close enough that his lips are teasing you in the worst and best possible way. “If you let me smash it, we could make guacamole.” He adds with a glint in his eyes that you know means trouble and then he kisses you so hard that you don’t even have a chance to form a proper response.
His mouth is like liquid fire and it moves against yours so insistently that it burns. His tongue slides over your teeth and steals your breath and by the time you break apart you are greedily gulping in air before he steals that too.
James stares down at you for a long moment, kiss-swollen lips parted to accommodate the soft panted breaths that escape him in warm puffs. You are aching to touch him and kiss him and violate him in any way that he will let you but you don’t act on any of those things because you know that he is just playing with you like a ball on a string. “You could be my one and only.” He murmurs so quietly that it is a vague whisper, and it shocks you and stills your heart right in your chest.
The tiny admission on his part is enough to spur your actions and your reach up and wind your arms around his neck, pulling him down until every inch of his body is perfectly aligned with yours. When you stretch up to kiss him he smiles against your mouth and slides his arms around your shoulders and holds you close. This is the most you’ve ever gotten from him and you are desperate to hold onto it for as long as possible.
His kisses are like succulent delicacies that you cannot get enough of and you spend the better part of an hour basking in his brand of affection. You have no idea what this means in the grand scheme of things, and you don’t know if this will change anything, but it’s something and you take it with a greedy hand fit for the house you reside in. “We could do this all day,” You murmur between kisses against his mouth, and his silence, although uncharacteristic, is understood.
OG post of this convo here
Dude, you kissed me AGAIN. What the FUCK?
Reblogging in honour of National Avocado Day.