DIRTY LITTLE SECRET|TRYST SMITH (FAKES) X READER|PART 4
WARNINGS: drug use/abuse, alcohol, addiction, cheating, implied domestic abuse (not by Tryst), cheating, unprotected smut, pining, general angst, etc.
What's Playing:"Bad Idea" ~Waitress The Musical
"Shit Tryst what happened to you?" You move aside to let him in, not even questioning whether or not to invite him in. Based on how he looked, you could only assume he'd gotten jumped or something. The truth of Tryst's life still a mystery to you. Your boyfriend had made you cut contact once you'd graduated. You didn't quite understand why, but the way he phrased made sense. All you could do was trust his judgement, no matter how much it hurt you to lose your best friend.
"Long story." He doesn't want to give you the details. If you knew that he'd been involved in a fake ID making scheme you'd probably turn him away or worse, call the cops.
You lead him to the couch, something that probably cost more than his car. The whole house was elaborate and ornate, coming from the friend who's parents house was just like his, cramped and cluttered, this was a change. Tryst didn't like it one bit, it didn't feel like you or your style, too minimalist. there wasn't a hint of your personality that he so loved.
"No, we're pretty much done, why do you ask?"
He gestures around the stark and barren home. "It doesn't seem like you. Where's the decoration."
"Oh, he says the collect dust. Make it look too busy." You didn't have to drop a name for him to know who you were talking about.
"Of course he'd say that."
"Can you just be nice for once? Besides, you're not in a position to start arguments."
Unfortunately Tryst has to agree, so he settles down on the couch, trying not to think about the dirt and blood he might be getting on it. You didn't seem to mind, and that's all that mattered.
"So where's the boy toy now?"
You laugh a little at the nickname. "He's getting ready to leave, he does hybrid stay a few days downtown, a few here from home."
"Right, sure." Tryst didn't care about your boyfriend's schedule, focused on the fact that it would just be the two of you here, alone. When you were younger the concept was normal and familiar, now, there was unresolved tension settling, and a silent need on his end. "Is he going to be alright with me staying here?"
You wave off his concerns. "Oh for sure, he doesn't see you as a threat or anything."
Even though you didn't mean it as a slight, Tryst still took it that way. Your boyfriend saw it that was which meant that you were so far out of Tryst's league that he wasn't even worth being considered a threat. It stung.
While he mulls this over a door upstairs opens, descending the stairs is the prick himself, smug smirk as if he didn't have a care in the world. He takes in Tryst on the couch, the grin widening.
"Look who's here." His tone was mocking.
"Yo, how's it goin'?" Tryst laughs nervously, trying to ease the inferiority he feels in the other man's presence.
"You look like shit." Blunt, biting.
"That's what happens when you get beat up."
"Right, and how did that happen?"
Tryst clenches his jaw but doesn't take the bait. "Off to the office? Nice, maybe you can debate with your head and get it out of your ass."
Your boyfriend scoffs and leans in close so only Tryst can hear. "Make sure you're gone by morning, right? I wouldn't want the local junkie hanging around the house."
"I don't use any more, you know that." Tryst rolls his eyes at the attempted slight.
"True, but dealers always end up using." He straightens back before Tryst can question who had told him that he was a dealer. Someone had blabbed and now a live grenade had been placed into his enemy's hand, waiting to be detonated. "I'll see you later then?"
"Yeah- later-" He manages.
You deliver a dutiful peck on the lips, muttering a few terms of endearment as your boyfriend walks out the door.
"How can you stand that guy?" Tryst blurts out once the door closes.
"Oh is that what you'd called that? I thought he was just being a prick."
You roll your eyes at his sarcasm. "Just try and rest, and maybe try to not look at the worst in him."
"Don't hold your breath."
"At least we can spend time together like old times, right?"
Tryst's breath hitches as you sit next to him at the couch. "Yeah. Like old times."
This was going to be his own personal hell.
Once upon a time the two of you spending time together was natural and something that you both looked forward to. Now you each sat on your opposite ends of the couch, pretending that the other one didn't exist. The movie on the living room TV was hardly capturing anyone's attention, merely serving as white noise in the echoing silence of the house and the unspoken thoughts that lingered in the air between. Tryst longed to close the distance, finally make good on everything he'd been keeping within for years. But he didn't think he would be able to handle your rejection. Better to stew in his longing than have everything crushed so completely. But that didn't change how much he was aching to pull you into his arms at this very moment.
Tryst watched you across the room, unlike him, you hadn't been paying attention to the movie for another reason. You were consumed with your phone, and not in the way a habitual phone checker would be, you seemed nervous or anxious. A worried expression crossed your face, foot shaking in an attempt to self-soothe, he couldn't just ignore it.
Tryst lets it go at first, but your expression doesn't ease, making him prompt. "You sure? You don't seem fine."
"I just hate his voice to text, it always makes him sound angrier than he is."
His eyebrows furrow, that didn't sound quite right. "Does he often sound angry?"
"Not all the time, just when I fuck up."
Something in Tryst's bristles, that need to protect you like he always had. "And how often is that?"
You shrug noncommittally which doesn't help the situation.
"What's he texting you about?" Whether it was the fentanyl in his system that was blocking out the pain or some kind of righteous anger rising in Tryst he wasn't sure, but it was making him bolder than he needed to be.
"He just wants updates on what I'm doing."
He lets that hang a second to process exactly what the hell is going on here. "Like in a "I love you and am curious what you're up to" way or a weird way-"
You finally set your phone aside. "Oh come on, it's not like that. I told you he doesn't see you as a threat."
"Yeah about that- how many guys does he see as a threat-"
"I'm not getting into the grit of my relationship with you." You go back to your phone's incessant chiming.
"About that. Why did you cut me off after graduation? We were best friends."
"I don't know things happen."
"You told me he didn't want you messaging me."
"Well yeah, that's what I meant, things happen."
"Those are two very different things. Does he control who you talk to?"
"I told you it's none of your business."
"I think you're making it my business when I find out this guy is basically putting a leash on you and not in a good way."
"Is there a good way?" You attempt to joke.
"Don't change the subject." He stands to tower over you. "We're talking about this."
You rise to meet his gaze head on, not backing down. "Don't pretend that you haven't always hated him and are just looking for an excuse to make me push him away."
"Maybe you need an excuse if you can't see it yourself-!" His temper flares.
"Butt, out." Your tone is low, bitter.
"Not until you and I talk about this and I'm sure you're safe. You can't be so stupid like this! What do you even see in him? Don't you want someone who actually cares about you and doesn't tote you around like a prize!? What's going on through that head!? Why won't you let me in!?"
You stare at him, shaking with anger, not saying anything.
"Say something, what, you don't have a defence for him anymore!? Realized you're wasting time with him when you could be missing what's in front of you!?" Tryst realizes how that sounds and backs off. "I'm sorry, that sounded wrong-"
You don't let him finish, grabbing his face and kissing him deeply.
Tryst meets you in the kiss, matching your passion, tongues meeting, gripping each other like you're lifelines. The heat grows and you know that you can't ignore it.
You pull away for just a moment. "Can you with your injuries?"
"I'm so desperate I'll push through it-" He dives back in for your lips. After being denied for so long, to have you just as needy for him as he is for you is everything that Tryst had dreamed of since he was a teenager. The kiss was everything that he could have ever imagined, and here you were, inviting him for more.
He wasn't going to let a little pain stop him now.
Clothes torn off, scattered on the floor, lips stuck to each other in desperation as you straddled him, his cock hard and aching. Only slightly grinding on him made Tryst gasp and hiss with need. Normally you would've to tease him until he was begging, but the heat had reached an all time high and you didn't want to give it the chance to fizzle out.
Slowly you lowered your hips, taking him in all at once. You'd never felt so filled than in this moment, and based on Tryst's groan and the way his hands gripped the side of the couch he was feeling just as good. You don't give him a chance to rest, moving your hips on him while all he could do was hold on for the ride.
The sounds of gasps and moans fill your house that felt too clean and expensive for the filthy sounds and acts going on within. But it was too good to stop. All this time, years of you secretly pining for Tryst, wishing that he would notice you. When you thought he wasn't interested you'd met your current boyfriend, but it was a pale comparison between the two. Tryst acted like he actually enjoyed fucking you, unlike your boyfriend who saw it as stress relief, a type of ownership, nothing more. Tryst looked up at you like you were a divine being that he got to worship. His hands gripped your hips to both guide and steady you or rather himself, he never wanted you to stop, this moment to perfect. His thumb rested on your most sensitive spot, letting you rub it against him until you were clenching around him so tightly his head was thrown back in pleasure.
"Fuck- fuck- fuck-" He said it like a chant, like the soft curse was all that was keeping him with you in this moment. Each movement from you making it louder and louder until your sudden climax threw him over the edge, forcing him to push you off and finish on your lower stomach, protection forgotten in the moment.
As you both come down from your high, you stare at each other, realizing what you've just done.
