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Warnings/Tags/Notes: 18+. details of mff threesome. angst. happy couple. one line of daddy kink and mommy kink.
Inspired by one of my favourite poems 'after the threesome, they both take you home' by Sue Hyon Bae.
Words: 739
You're sitting in the back seat of their family car, listening to the lilt and purr of their conversation. There's an abandoned teddy bear on the floor by your feet, fuzzy and warm but not in anyones arms.
You think you know how it feels.
You hold on tight to your tiny handbag, holding nothing in it but wine-stain lipstick and a few crumpled pieces of paper - phone numbers you'd pick from like from a candy jar when everything started to feel numb again.
They chatter endlessly, happily, her mentioning some mother at the school gates she doesn't like, him humming deep in agreement.
Supportive husband to a loving wife.
And the girl they just ruined sat in the back quietly, under their care.
Offices are lit up like christmas trees, and you have to wonder why. Midnight is a memory now, driving through the city, no one here to see them but you and the other lonely souls searching for something they'll never find. Dave and Carol certainly don't notice them.
It had only been an hour ago that he was pulling out of you, that she was kissing soothing promises against your too-warm skin, marvelling at the way his seed leaked from you. She'd given you praise, encouragement, love in a form you craved so much, while he gave it to you in the way you desperately ached for.
Now, she looks back at you and says something. Something silly and trivial, and why does it even matter? You blood was rushing through your veins an hour ago, chanting 'Dave, Carol...fuck...Daddy, Mommy...please' over and over while they turned you into the person you always tried to be. Someone elses thing. For a few hours. Something warm and wanted and special.
"Do you like living in the city?" She repeats, a gentle tap to your knee because you didn't answer the first time.
"Yeah...yeah...I guess"
Their suburban home was like a wonderland, something untouchable, intangible. Covered in sugary sweetness that hung over every part of their perfect life. She had kissed you first, in the kitchen, after they'd invited you home from the bar. Her lips had tasted like cherries.
He was a deeper shade, a darker taste. Something burning in those eyes, not just the desire for things he didn't have to voice but something secret too, darker still. She'd kissed you in the kitchen, but he'd bent you over the counter. Told you to be good. To be so very good for them.
You had been.
So very, very good.
It's nearing 3am by the time they drop you off, home and safe and they loved getting to meet you. She kisses you first, again, on the steps to the door of your rundown little apartment where your roommate is surely still up waiting for all the dirty details. Her lips don't taste quite so cherry fresh now, more like you, covered in you. Suits her better, you flirt and flutter, prolong those last moments as long as you can.
His lips meet yours, and he's holding her hand even as he does it. Gives you a pat on the ass and tells you maybe they'll meet you in that bar again, do it all over again. You'd like that, wouldn't you pretty girl?
You know you'll never see them again.
You never do.
But this time, you wish. Which is more than you can say for the others.
You unlock your door as they stand by their car, making sure you go inside and don't somehow get lost between the front door and the inside of your home. You feel like you could get lost, chest burning with a warmth you don't really expect to feel as you watch them kiss and smile and get ready to go home. They'll sleep the few hours til morning, get ready for their days like nothing happened. The only reminder of you will be the scent of your perfume still on their pillows, and what they'd made you gush onto the sheets.
The other thing too. Stupid of you but you left it there; Your phone number is crumpled on some paper on the kitchen counter. A sweet offering for them in case they ever want to try you again.
They won't. They won't.
For now anyway you let the warmth of them linger inside.
when he kisses your puffy pussy so sweetly and says a little breathlessly “my poor baby” as if he wasn’t the one absolutely pounding you into the next week
Warnings: language, drinking, reader has a lot of issues (anxiety, self doubt, traumatic past not yet explored but it's implied, panic attacks), jealousy, Joel likes bossy women, smut (18+, piv sex)
Other parts can be found here
The nerves leading up to your first date with Joel were ridiculous all week. Can you even call it a first date if you've already had sex twice? Whatever. Regardless, the spiraling and the overthinking were on another level, even for you.
It's just a beer, it's just a beer, you kept repeating to yourself. But you knew that wasn't true. For him, maybe, but for you? This was a huge step. Something you haven't done in years, and for good reason. If you still saw your therapist, you're certain she would be proud of you for doing this after everything that's happened. As you finish your makeup, you roll your eyes at yourself in the mirror, knowing exactly what she would have said if she knew you wanted her approval.
You don't need anyone's approval but your own.
Unfortunately, you've never been able to wrap your arms around that piece of advice. You still seek it out constantly.
You swipe some lipgloss on and run your fingers through your hair a few times, tilting your head back and forth until you're satisfied with how it lays before you flick off the light and head towards your kitchen.
The jeans you picked are cute, you think. Tight enough to show off your curves but not too tight that you'll be uncomfortable. The tank top is flowy with skinny straps and a little low cut. It had you second guessing if you looked too desperate, but your backup outfit was a dress and you're certain that would have looked ridiculous in the dive bar you picked. Then you forced yourself to stop overthinking it and just wear the goddamn tank top because Joel's already seen your tits anyway, so who cares?
You take a deep breath and take a long sip of water, gaze flickering anxiously to the clock on your wall. God, you're so out of practice for stuff like this, what were you thinking?
Maybe you should cancel. Fake an illness. A death in the family. No, that's too dark. Sweat begins to bead at your temples as your pulse kicks up.
This was a huge mistake. You're not ready.
Shaky fingers pick up your phone. As you're about to text him some weak excuse, there's a knock at your door and you freeze.
Shit. Too late.
Your heart is in your throat as you slowly walk down the hallway, towards your door. Every step makes the panic rise. Your vision narrows. You try to swallow but your throat's too tight.
Nothing bad is going to happen.
Numb fingers wrap around your doorknob and you tug it open.
Joel is waiting on the other side looking... great. Clean. You blink hard. You've only ever seen him working, when he's covered in sweat and dirt and wearing junk clothes. But the man before you now is freshly showered, beard is trimmed, and he's wearing some type of cologne with a hint of spice. You think you've smelled traces of it on him before but to have the full effect now is very different. It's throwing you off, making you forget about your insecurities entirely.
You're staring. You haven't said anything and you're staring at him like a crazy person. Say something.
"Uh, hi."
Brilliant. Great job.
When you lift your gaze to meet his eyes, you find you weren't the only one gawking. Joel looks speechless for once in his life as he slowly takes in your outfit. All his bravado is mysteriously missing for a minute and it's giving you a much needed ego boost.
"Those for me?" you ask smugly, pointing at the white flowers he's clutching in his fist. Finally, Joel shakes his head like he's snapping out of a trance and looks down.
"Jesus—yes, sorry darlin'."
He hands you the flowers and you grin before sniffing them and making a pleased sound. "Thank you," you say sincerely, and his expression softens.
"Welcome."
"Let me put these in water before we go," you tell him, turning on your heel and walking back into your kitchen. "You can come in if you want," you toss breezily over your shoulder. What were you so worried for?
Joel's head tilts to the side as he stares at your ass disappearing down your hall. "Like the view right here just fine," he drawls, and you shoot him a weak look of offense before slipping out of sight. When you return, he's smiling that easy smile that makes his dimple crease. It's an entirely different feeling walking towards your door the second time—the panic has been replaced with excitement. This is Joel—he's easy to talk to. He's fun. This should be a good night.
He leads you to his truck with his palm pressed firmly against your spine. It's not a controlling touch, just a gentle guide. You like it more than you care to admit.
"Did I tell you how pretty you look?" he asks after helping you into the truck. He braces one forearm above the door with a grin as you get comfortable in the passenger seat.
"You didn't," you say, looking up at him through your lashes, "but it was strongly implied."
"You sayin' you got a good read on me?" he teases.
"Like a book, Miller," you grin. He chuckles then pushes off the door before closing it and rounding the front to slide into the driver's seat. Before he shifts the truck into reverse, he breathes loudly through his nose and shakes his head.
"Wow," he whispers like he's in awe. You feel your chest warm, assuming the breathlessness in his voice was your doing.
"What?" you ask a little timidly.
He shakes his head again in disbelief, looking entirely serious when he says, "Nothin'. Just... can't believe my two girls are finally together."
You pause as you try to process what he just said.
"Your—"
"You 'n my truck."
"Oh, my god!" you groan, embarrassed you allowed yourself to think he was about to say something heartfelt in the first place. "Don't compare me to your truck. And I'm not your girl."
He throws his head back with a laugh and despite yourself, you giggle. He makes it so easy when you're together that even the drive to the bar isn't awkward. He has the radio on low and he hums along with some country tune, fingers tapping occasionally on the wheel. You let the fresh breeze from the open windows caress your skin and relax your body. Occasionally, you glance his way when he's too busy watching the road to notice. The jeans he's wearing are clean. Belt looks nicer, too. Not new, but probably the clothes he sets aside for dates or parties or any time he needs to look presentable. You like imagining what that looks like, in his house. A certain drawer housing clothes that may go untouched but a few times a year. And you like the idea of him pulling out those clothes for you.
His shirt is different, too. It's a plain black tee but it's still bright, so you know he hasn't needed to wash it much yet. On top of that is a dark green flannel, buttons open and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You can't see his boots but you hazard a guess those are nicer than the dirty work boots you're used to seeing.
Eventually he catches on and shifts in his seat.
"Wishin' you cancelled on me already?" he asks, eyes still pinned on the road.
"Not yet," you reply, leaving out your panic attack before he arrived. He doesn't need to know about all that.
He hums and casually taps his fingers against the steering wheel again, squinting as he approaches an intersection. "You go to this bar a lot?"
"I used to," you admit, gaze drifting through the windshield to gauge where you are. "Back when I was in college I came here more often than I probably should've."
"That's a relief. Thought you picked this place so yes wouldn't run into anyone you knew," he grins.
"Oh, that too," you joke smoothly, and he laughs again before slowing and throwing on his turn signal to pull into the parking lot.
Joel helps you slide out of the passenger seat. You murmur your thanks and walk side by side towards the bar.
When a jeep backs out of a parking spot, Joel immediately redirects you and places his body between yours and the car. His expression gives nothing away. He didn't do it as a performance. He just... did it. Like it's second nature, he didn't think twice. Something about it makes your pulse skip.
Even from here, you can hear the music pumping from the jukebox. A few people linger outside to smoke with beers dangling from their fingertips. They casually watch you approach and nod to you both when Joel reaches forward to open the door for you.
Inside, the bar looks the same as it always did. You think they may have fixed some of the cracked seats on the barstools but otherwise, nothing else really changed. There are still a few televisions mounted high up on the walls showing a different sporting event on each one. There are still four pool tables and a dart board tucked into the back of the room, near the bathrooms. The lighting is still dim and the crowd is still the same—a mix of college students blowing off steam and a middle aged crowd scattered amongst the bar and surrounding tables.
It's loud already at only nine at night. There's a college football game on the television above the bartender's heads that most people seem to be focused on. And as Joel leads you to the bar to order, your boots still stick to the floors just like they always did before. If it wasn't so loud, you bet you'd be able to hear them unstick with every step.
"What do you like to drink?" Joel asks after he wedges himself a spot against the bar. He pulls out his wallet and looks at you expectantly. "Wine? Some mixed drink?"
"A beer, whatever kind you're having."
He gives you a surprised look and a nod before turning back to the bar. Behind him, you awkwardly tuck your hands into the back pockets of your jeans and wait, looking around. You spot a couple empty tables near the front windows and you tap Joel's shoulder.
"I'm gonna go grab a—"
But before you can finish your sentence, a familiar face appears behind the bar. It takes you a moment to recognize him, but he clocks you right away and frowns.
"Hey! I remember you! Didn't I say you ain't allowed here anymore?"
Your eyes go wide with horror but Joel just grins easily and sets back to watch the exchange.
"No! That was—"
"Nah, it was you. You and that other girl you were always with. Gave me too many goddamn headaches. Actually—" He leans forward across the bar with a towel dangling over his shoulder. "That friend of yours never did pay me back for the pool table."
"Pool table?" Joel repeats, clearly amused. Your cheeks burn.
"Had to refelt it. Wasn't cheap."
"That wasn't me," you insist.
"Sure as shit was."
You groan and prop your hands on your hips. "C'mon, Dave. That was a long time ago and it was her heels that scratched up the felt, not mine."
Joel laughs, clearly delighted.
Dave's eyes drift slowly between you and Joel before relenting and straightening back up. But then he points a finger at you and you cower a little.
"You can stay. But none of that bullshit anymore, you hear?"
"Yes," you promise, throughly embarrassed.
Joel tilts his head towards Dave. "Two drafts. And don't worry, I'll keep an eye on her," he says. When Dave grunts and turns around to pull the tap, Joel's gaze finds yours and adds so only you can hear, "she's a good girl now."
You narrow your eyes, ignoring the arousal blooming low in your belly at the term of endearment. "Don't start," you warn.
Joel barks out a laugh and grabs the two glasses after paying. "You got alotta explain' to do," he murmurs in your ear before trailing after you to an empty table. You slide into the curved booth right in front of the window and Joel follows. The creak of the thick vinyl seats under his weight can be heard over the classic rock song pouring from the jukebox speakers. On the table is an abandoned bucket of shelled peanuts and you quickly grab one just for something to busy your hands.
"So," Joel says, twisting his body to face yours. His free arm is popped on the top of your seat as the other cups his glass on the table. You like the way he slightly curves his body around yours. "Care to explain what that was all 'bout?"
You shrug, cracking into the peanut shell. "Can't really remember. It was a lifetime ago."
"Bullshit," he laughs, "tell me. You get up to no good back in the day or what?"
You grin up at him and pop a peanut into your mouth. "Maybe."
"Yeah? And who's the other girl?"
Your throat tightens at the memory. "I don't talk to her anymore."
Joel doesn't notice your discomfort. You're better at hiding it now.
"No? Why not? She tearin' up felt in some other bar now?"
He takes a sip from his beer while you chew. "Something like that," you say, and before he can push further, you change the subject. "Have you ever gotten kicked out of a bar before?"
He rolls his eyes and sets down his beer. "Oh, Christ. Yeah. Not my fault, though."
"Oh, I'm sure."
"I mean it!"
"Likely story," you grin, and just like that, the memory of another life fades.
"It was my little brother's fault mostly," he continues, snatching up a peanut. His arm is still propped up on the seat behind you, his hand inches from the back of your neck. You melt into the seat a little so he's closer.
"You have a brother?"
He nods. "Tommy. He's... well, he thinks he's a white knight sometimes. Gets him in trouble."
"So you're the real white knight?"
Joel smirks as he chews. "That's bein' generous."
"Well, you help him out when he's in trouble, right?" you press.
"Outta obligation, not 'cause I'm some hero."
"Oh, don't think I said hero." You playfully poke him in the ribs. He flinches and grabs your hand with a flirty grin.
"Haven't even had a sip of beer and you're already gettin' handsy with me."
You roll your eyes with a smile and yank your hand out of his grip. "You're the one who's holding onto me like Velcro."
"Gotta make sure you don't end up on that pool table again, I made a promise to good ol' Dave."
"Oh, you just loved that, didn't you?"
"I did." He takes another sip of his beer and you follow suit, your eyes never leaving one another over the rims of your glasses. He sets it down and subtly shifts a little closer. "Like findin' out more 'bout you. You're a mystery, y'know that?"
"Am I?" you ask innocently before taking another drink.
"Mhm," he hums, gaze slowly dragging across your face like he's searching for something. "So far, all's I know 'bout you is you work a whole lot 'n you like that you're good at it." He rubs his chin thoughtfully for a second as you pluck another peanut from the bucket. "Well, know a few other things, too. Wouldn't wanna say it in front of mixed company, though."
You smack his shoulder and he laughs. God, his laugh is so infectious. Every time you try to keep a stern expression, you fail.
"What'd I say?" he exclaims, rubbing his shoulder with a shit eating grin.
"You know what you said," you scold, throwing the peanut at his chest.
"Hey! Meant your burnt cookies, I don't know what you're thinkin'."
"Oh, yeah right."
"Didn't wanna embarrass you," he says defensively. You look around the bar, at the oblivious patrons, and then back at him.
"I think I'll live."
There's a brief pause where neither of you say anything, but it's not uncomfortable. He doesn't stop smiling and neither do you. There's a pull between you that leaves you both feeling a little exhilarated.
"Well?" he asks you as his fingers brush gently against your hair. You find yourself drawing even closer to him, like a magnet. To distract yourself, you take another long sip from your beer before catching his eye again.
"Well... what?" you reply.
"Gonna tell me somethin' 'bout yourself or you gonna make me work harder for it?"
You grin and cross your legs under the table. Your foot nudges his leg but neither of you move.
"What do you want to know?"
Joel thinks about it over a healthy drink from his glass before setting it down with determination.
"When was your last relationship?"
You laugh, mostly to cover up the sheer panic you know would otherwise be written all over your face. You're sure of it because you can feel your blood run cold at the mere mention of your romantic past.
"Let's start with something a little less..." you trail off and Joel throws you a lifeline.
"Intense?"
You nod. "Yeah. Intense."
"Alright," he says easily, entirely unbothered by you dodging the question. "You got any family?"
That's easier. You tell him about growing up with your parents and sister just outside of Austin. It was a normal childhood, by all accounts. It wasn't until the last few years when you grew apart. You leave that out and focus on the good times, before you grew up. You tell him about your sister who went to school in London and ended up falling in love with her classmate and getting married out there. How you only visited her twice but it was a beautiful city and you want to go again one day.
"What's keepin' you from seein' her?"
"Work, I guess."
Joel tsks. "Shocker."
"I know," you grin.
The way he's looking at you is making your stomach flip. He's so genuine and warm and funny... he's making it very hard to resist his charm.
"What are you thinkin' 'bout?" he asks. His gaze is heavier than before and it feels like yours is the same. At some point, your legs pressed together under the table and neither of you made the effort to separate them.
"I was thinking you clean up pretty nice," you tease softly. Then your fingers pluck at his open flannel, giving the fabric a playful tug.
Joel chuckles. "You, too. Still don't mind that flimsy robe of yours, though."
"That was my back up outfit."
"Would've gotten kicked outta here a second time for that," Joel grins, dipping his chin down. He's so close he hardly has to raise his voice over the music.
"What makes you think I've only been kicked out once?" The heat of his body surrounds you: his arm across the back of your seat, his leg against yours under the table, his mouth mere inches away from your own. If you wanted, you could kiss him right now. Maybe you should.
There's a low rumble that comes from his chest and his eyes grow darker. "And here I just got done vouchin' for what a good girl you are," he murmurs. "You gonna make a liar outta me?"
Your hand finds his leg and he breathes in sharp when you slowly curl your fingers along the inside of his thigh.
"What can I say?" you sigh, lips barely grazing his mouth. "Sometimes I'm trouble."
He groans and leans in, closing those last remaining centimeters with a slow, firm kiss. It's not messy or passionate, but it doesn't have to be. Even without tasting his tongue, you're still ready to crawl into his lap right here and now. Your fingers on his thigh tighten and his mouth parts ever so slightly, just enough for you each to take a breath before your lips slot together once again. The hand that's been taking up residence on top of your seat is now cupping your cheek, his thumb is swiping gently along your jaw, and it's so intense and sweet at the same time that you're dizzy with need and something else you can't quite admit yet.
The loud sound of billiard balls cracking together across the bar pull you out of it, but just barely. His forehead presses against yours after the kiss is broken and you each draw in a deep breath, clearing away the clouds of desire that took over your better judgement for a few weak moments.
"I'll go get us a couple more," he finally murmurs, pointing to your empty glasses when he inevitably leans back in his seat. His cheeks look a little pink and you have to stifle a smile behind your hand.
"You don't have to—" you start to say, but he cuts you off.
"If I don't get up right now, I'll end us gettin' us both banned for life," he winks, and your face flushes with heat as you laugh. Joel stands with your glasses and begins to weave his way towards the bar.
You prop your elbow on the table and rest your chin in your hand as you watch him from your booth. His back is to you so you feel free to let your gaze linger over his rugged frame, broad shoulders, and dark hair. He's so insanely sexy, just leaning against the bar so casually with that flannel exposing his strong, tanned forearms and his jeans hugging his waist just right. It almost isn't fair how good he looks, how well he fits in. Where's the flaw? What's the catch with Joel? Nobody looks as good as him and has a fun personality. You already know he's great in bed, so it's not that, either.
Stop it. You're doing it again. Stop looking for problems.
You pinch the bridge of your nose and shake loose the invasive thoughts. It's easier with a beer in your system to let that go and relax, but when your gaze settles back on Joel at the bar, another unexpected intense feeling flares up: jealousy. Because at some point in the last thirty seconds when you looked away, a very young and very blonde college girl sporting a mini skirt and cowboy boots has found a spot next to Joel at the bar and appears to be getting just a little too close for your liking.
Your lips press together as you watch, studying her body language like a hawk. She's leaning forward and saying something to Joel, then her perfectly manicured finger points to something. He glances over and plucks some napkins out of a dispenser and hands them over with a polite smile, but she's not done. She appears to be extremely grateful. She leans forward again, expressing her thanks while gently placing a hand on his arm, conveniently giving him a generous view of her cleavage.
Anger drips heavier in your veins with each bat of her fake eyelashes and every high pitched giggle that reaches your ears. You can tell Joel is trying to limit his interactions with her while still being polite, but she's not taking the hint and fucking Dave is ignoring that side of the bar entirely.
He's not your boyfriend, you have to remind yourself. But he is your date. So how much longer do you allow this to go on before doing something?
When she leans in to whisper something in his ear that makes him jerk backwards and laugh awkwardly, you get your answer. Enough is enough.
Joel's face is red as you approach from behind, and when you get closer you can hear him stammering something while the blonde watches him like a siren: all lust filled eyes with a seductive smile.
"Hey, baby," you breathe, stepping between them. You can see the discomfort in his expression, one that slips into a mix of fear and relief when his eyes settle on you. He opens his mouth, either to explain or reply, but you cut him off when you clutch his shirt and yank him down for an obnoxiously deep kiss. You make sure to moan a little so the blonde behind you hears, then you let him go with a breathless laugh.
"I missed you. What's taking so long?" you ask innocently while swiping some of your lip gloss from the corner of his mouth. Joel's eyes are wide with shock until he figures out your game, then they soften with a knowing smile.
"Busy up here. And this young lady was askin' for help," he says, jutting his chin over your shoulder. He doesn't tear his gaze away from you, though, and you like that.
Slowly, you turn to face the blonde, who is doing her best to act innocuous. You give her a smile while dropping your hand, possessively slipping your fingers between Joel's. You lazily size her up and down, then tilt your head to the side.
"Is there something we can help you with?" you ask sweetly, leaning against Joel's chest. You know you're laying it on thick and so does he. You can feel the rumble of laughter through your back and you grin.
"Uh, no," she replies with a tight smile of her own, "he was just telling me which whiskey is best."
"Oh!" you blink with surprise while Joel murmurs your order to Dave across the bar. "You're old enough to drink?"
Joel says your name softly in your ear, a light warning.
The blonde narrows her eyes at you, the mask shifting ever so slightly. "Yes. In fact, it's my birthday."
"Oh, happy birthday," you gush. Joel's fingers flex around your own. "Don't tell me you're celebrating all by yourself?" You plaster on a cheesy smile while the blonde flicks her perfectly curled hair over her shoulder to gesture to a table near the darts.
"No, my friends are over there."
When she turns back to you, your smile drops and the sweetness from your voice is gone.
"Good. You should probably go join them."
A subtle threat is laced in your tone and the blonde picks up on it easily. She slips off the stool and straightens her skirt, offers Joel a cordial wave, and disappears into the crowd.
"Goddamn," Joel chuckles after you turn around, dropping his hand with a glare.
"What did she say to you?"
"What? When?"
"You know when," you snap, "your face was red as a tomato."
Joel smirks and swipes his palm over his mouth with a shrug. "Said it was her birthday but she wanted to take me to the bathroom 'n give me a gift."
Your jaw drops. "That fucking—"
You spin back in her direction, rage boiling over, when Joel snags your arm. "Darlin', easy, a man can only get so hard."
"We got a problem here?" Dave asks, loudly setting down two beers with a scowl. You straighten up and try to unclench your jaw.
"No," you seethe.
"Good." His eyes shift wearily between you and Joel, then juts a finger in your direction. "I'm watchin' you."
You roll your eyes and grab your beer, too pissed to care.
"One foot outta line—" Dave warns Joel, and Joel waves him off before grabbing the other beer.
"Yeah, yeah. I got it."
He rushes after you, looping an arm around your waist and tugging you into his side.
"You're full'a surprises," he murmurs in your ear.
You scoff and slide into the booth, still too angry to think about much else, and take a long sip from your beer and Joel joins you.
"Does that happen often?" you ask with an edge to your voice.
"No," he says, "took me by surprise. I was tryin' to be nice." His arm resumes its post on the top of your seat and his other hand finds a home on your leg. His fingers squeeze a little as he inches forward while you take another angry gulp from your glass to settle the adrenaline. "Can I tell you a secret?" he asks, dipping low so his lips graze your ear. You find yourself leaning closer and the rage pumping through your veins begins to slow.
"What?" you reply, trying to maintain your scowl, but you're failing. Your brows cannot stay furrowed tonight.
Joel smirks and something dangerous shifts behind his eyes. "That was pretty fuckin' sexy, what you did," he admits, and despite yourself, your chest fills with pride. "Never had someone do somethin' like that for me."
"Try not to get a big head over it," you tease with a smile. The last of your anger dissipates and you poke him gently in the ribs.
"Oh, too late for that, honey," Joel laughs. He curls his body inwards more so you can feel that heat again and the hand on your thigh slides up slowly before reaching for your wrist. There's a familiar pull between your legs almost immediately from his touch.
His fingers delicately hold your wrist in your lap before he shifts in his seat and suspiciously glances around the bar. You're confused until he subtly moves your palm to the front of his jeans and you suck in a sharp breath when you feel him, hot and rock hard behind his zipper.
"Joel—"
"Wasn't kiddin'," he whispers in your ear before his lips find a sensitive spot on your throat. You bite your lip and try to ignore the warmth pooling between your thighs, but it's impossible. The gentle graze of his mouth raises the temperature of your skin and without thinking, your hand presses forward. You feel him twitch under your palm and your eyelids flutter in a desperate attempt to remain present and aware of your surroundings.
"Joel..." you try again, but your voice is merely a whisper. Still, he hums in acknowledgement, but his mouth is busy trailing down your neck. You swallow hard. "As fun as it was the other times, I'd really like to not get kicked out of here again tonight."
He makes a disappointed noise before reluctantly pulling back. Your hand falls from his lap to his leg as you stare at one another, tension thick.
"Sorry," he murmurs, voice strained. His heavy gaze drags slowly across your face, both of you equally flushed, hearts pumping wildly in your chests. Then he grins. "I really do wanna know more 'bout you, I swear it."
"I know," you giggle, tension breaking a bit.
"Can't seem to help myself when you get all pissed off," he continues, running his fingers through his hair. "You're doin' somethin' crazy to me, darlin'."
You laugh again, hiding behind your hair. You're not ready to admit it, but he's certainly doing something to you, too.
"Okay," you take a deep breath so as to fight through the veil of arousal clinging to your body, "what, uh... what movies do you like?"
The next hour or so carries on like that. Ten minutes of harmless questions, a joke here or there, and inevitably one of you finds a reason to touch the other. The tension builds again until you snap out of it and then the cycle repeats itself.
It's the beer, you think. It's making you both a little too relaxed. That's the only reasonable explaination for the unusually spectacular date. The connection feels strong because the beer is strong. That's all.
After you finish your drinks and the bar fills up with a much more rowdy crowd, Joel suggests heading out. As disappointed as you are for the night to end, you agree and stand to follow him hand in hand through the throngs of people laughing and milling around on the dance floor. It's only when you're a few feet away from the door that Joel stops and turns to you with a grin.
"Guess I wasn't that special," he says loudly over the music, then nods towards a dark booth in the corner. Your gaze follows and you burst out laughing when you spot a shock of familiar blonde hair all over some guy a few years younger than Joel.
"Sorry she broke your heart," you giggle, stumbling out of the bar side by side. Both hands curl around his bicep as you walk through the parking lot wearing matching grins.
"I'll survive," he jokes, fishing the keys out of his pocket. The music from the jukebox is fading behind you. Laughter and glasses clinking thin with every step. Instead, you begin to hear the soothing sound of crickets chirping from the nearby grass. You're silent for a minute, letting the quiet settle around you like a blanket. It's peaceful and you tip your chin up to gaze at the stars, knowing Joel won't let you trip.
"Wanna walk for a bit?" he asks once his truck is in view. Your eyes tear away from the inky night sky to look at him.
"Sure. Are you not good to drive?"
"Nah, ain't that," he says, grinning at you with that dimple. "Just don't want the night to end yet."
"Oh," you breathe, then hide your shy smile by pretending to study something imaginary across the street.
Your hands fall from his bicep and he laces his fingers between yours as you walk down the cracked sidewalk. You pass restaurants, mostly pizza and fast food places with later hours to accommodate the bar patrons. On the corner is a theater that just let out and your gaze drifts up to read the marquee.
"Oh, that one's supposed to be good," you murmur. Joel reads it and nods.
"Wanna see it next weekend?"
He says it so easily, so casually, that he has you agreeing without even missing that awkward step that typically comes after a first date, the one that has both sides wondering if it went as well as you thought and if it would lead to anything more. Joel decides to eliminate all doubt before the night is even over. He's so smooth about it that you wouldn't know for sure if he was as excited as you if you didn't happen to catch the smile stretched across his face before he swiped his palm over his mouth to hide it.
Eventually, you come to the riverwalk. It's such a calm atmosphere: lights from underneath the railings brighten your path, there's mostly couples strolling quietly along that give you an occasional nod and you smile to yourself when teenagers go racing by on bikes or scooters. Joel doesn't lead you that far, otherwise it will take forever to eventually get back to his truck, so instead he finds a secluded spot with a view and leans against the railing on his forearms. You follow his lead but shiver when the metal railing touches your skin. He notices and immediately shrugs off his flannel, draping it around your shoulders.
"Thank you," you murmur, sliding your arms into the sleeves. The heat from his body is still in the fabric. His scent clings to the fibers and it makes you a little hazy with want to have his shirt engulfing you like this because it's reminding you of the way his body felt folded around you while pummeling you from behind.
When you catch his eye, you think you see the same flash of lust there, but he averts his gaze to the water too quickly.
"Don't come here at night often," he says. The light breeze slips through his hair and it makes you want to run your fingers through it.
"Me, either," you admit, "it's nice."
Despite just wearing a short sleeved shirt now, you still feel the heat rolling off his body. You lean a little closer and watch the water lazily roll under the walkway towards the shore.
"Was it as bad as you thought it'd be?"
You glance sideways at him when he asks the question.
"What?"
He shrugs, eyes still scanning the scenery. "Tonight. Our date."
"Oh," you laugh, "I had a great time. I didn't think it would be bad."
"No?"
He shifts a little, body angling more towards you now. You do the same, leaving one arm on the railing for support and you shake your head.
Joel smiles. "Good. The way you kept makin' excuses when I'd ask before had me wonderin' if it was me."
Guilt blooms a little in your chest. "No," you tell him softly, "it's definitely not because of you."
He gives you a few moments to elaborate but you don't. He doesn't ask, either, which you appreciate. And he doesn't make you feel bad for not sharing. It's almost frustratingly perfect.
You stay there a little longer, shoulders pressed together as you stare at the view and people watch whoever happens to walk by. Your fingers lace together at some point and you only let go halfway back to his truck when he buys you both ice cream.
"Shit," he grumbles when he sees how good your strawberry cone looks. You raise an eyebrow at him while taking a generous lick.
"Buyer's remorse?"
"No," he says stubbornly after tasting his butter pecan. "It's an underrated flavor."
"I'm sure it is."
You walk a few minutes in silence, past the theater again, which is now closed. With your ice cream half gone, Joel crumbles.
"Lemme try yours."
"No! I told you you should have gotten a different one."
You take a stubborn lick of your ice cream and Joel pouts. "I'll give you some of mine," he offers, holding out his cone. You shake your head.
"No, thanks. This is perfect."
Less than a minute goes by with Joel side-eyeing you until he can't take it anymore and he suddenly lunges, trying to grab a lick of your ice cream, but you yank it away just in time.
"Stop!" you squeal, giggling when he tries and fails again. A crowd of drunk twenty-something year olds stumble past in the opposite direction, loudly swearing at one another and cracking lewd jokes, but neither of you notice because Joel figures out a way to get what he wants by pressing you up against the brick wall of a pizza parlor and kissing you so deeply that the entire world around you fades.
"Mmm," he hums, licking his lips after he breaks the kiss. You're lucky you're still clutching your ice cream in your right hand because you almost forget where you are when his body is pressed against yours like this and the faint taste of butter pecan mixed with strawberry lingers on your tongue.
"It's good," he confirms, then thinks about it for a moment before a sly smile stretches across his face. "Can't decide if it's better than mine. Lemme taste it again—"
Your laugh gets cut short by another kiss, but this time you're somewhat prepared. His beard scratches against your lips and chin and you're quickly becoming addicted to the burn, but it's nothing compared to the way his mouth moves against yours, the firm yet soft seal of his kiss, the measured swipe of his tongue behind your teeth, the gentle way he cups your face.
The way Joel Miller kisses is utterly euphoric.
When he pulls away, you have to stifle a whine of protest for your own dignity, but his hand still cradles your cheek as he smiles down at you.
"What do you think?" he asks softly. You're not sure what he means. What do you think about... the kiss? The weather? The president's latest cabinet pick?
"I think..." you pant, heavy eyes dropping to his mouth. Your thumb swipes under his lower lip and you swear he leans forward. "I think it's an underrated flavor," you finish, gaze darting up at him playfully. He smirks.
"Told ya."
The ice cream is gone by the time you wander back to the bar parking lot. Based on the noise filtering from the open door, it sounds like it got much busier since you left. A few motorcycles rumble into the parking lot behind you and Joel tucks you protectively into his side even though there's no chance of them coming anywhere close enough to hitting you.
When he opens the passenger door, he helps you hop in. His hand lingers on your waist a little longer than necessary and you grin.
"Do you want your flannel back?" you ask him. He shakes his head.
"Looks better on you."
Your cheeks warm from the compliment and in the brief moment you have to yourself after he shuts the door, you drag in a loud, steadying breath to calm your nerves. Why are you so nervous anyway? You've already slept with him twice. Yet somehow, being on this date with him feels so much more vulnerable than being naked.
On the drive back to your house, you try your best to keep the conversation light, but it's hard when his hand rests so comfortably on your thigh. All you can think about is dragging him into your house, back into your bed, because the tension that's been ebbing and flowing all evening is making you feel like you may implode.
"How much longer do you have next door?" you ask him at some point. His fingers tighten around the denim of your jeans as he makes a turn, one handed.
"'Bout a week or two."
You hum and keep looking out your window, fingers itching to touch him.
"Then what?"
"Puttin' on an addition for a family who's expectin' a baby in a few months," he tells you. "Spot's over in my neck of the woods, couple streets over."
"Where do you live?" you ask, a little ashamed you haven't asked before.
"Off Rossler, in a little cul-de-sac," he says. You map it out in your head.
"That's not too far from me."
"'Bout fifteen minutes."
"And do you live alone?"
Joel laughs. "You askin' if I got a secret family or somethin'?"
You can't help but grin in return. "I mean, I'd hope not, but you never know."
"Well, I don't. But Tommy'll be comin' to stay for a couple weeks pretty soon. He's in the army and he'll be home on leave."
That surprises you. "I thought you said he's a trouble maker?"
"That I did."
"Hmm," is all you say in response. A comfortable silence falls between you, only to be broken once Joel turns onto your street.
"I like spendin' time with you," he says abruptly. Your gaze skirts to the side in surprise when you hear the earnestness in his voice. "I know you said you don't really do relationships but I want you to know, I don't plan on seein' anyone else."
Joel removes his hand from your thigh so he can properly turn into your driveway, allowing you a chance to process what he's just said. When he shifts the truck into park and nervously glances in your direction, you realize you've taken too long to formulate a response.
"I like spending time with you, too," you say softly. The corner of his mouth lifts and he looks straight ahead, turning the key in the ignition. The headlights blink off, casting your driveway into darkness.
"Lemme walk you up," he tells you before popping open his door and sliding out of his seat. His boots hit the fine gravel and you hear the soft crunch under his weight before his door shuts and you're left in momentary silence. Your eyes track him rounding the front of his truck and you smile as you unbuckle your seatbelt.
You should just thank him for tonight. Maybe give him a chaste kiss. Tell him you're looking forward to next weekend. But you know you can't leave it at just that. It's almost laughable now as you breathlessly ask him to come inside as one hand fumbles with your lock, unable to focus when his mouth is pressed against your throat and his hands are squeezing your hips.
Somehow you manage to both kick off your shoes and push your door shut, even with your mouths seared together in a heated kiss. You mumble the hollow offer of a drink against his lips and as expected, he just shakes his head and pushes you down your hallway, mouth barely giving you a reprieve.
"You look so good," he growls, yanking the collar of his flannel down to expose one of your shoulders. Your breath stutters as you blindly navigate your bedroom, the sharp press of his lips over your skin sending shocks of arousal throughout your entire body.
Calloused fingers gently slip the thin strap of your tank top down next and the flowy material gives way, nearly exposing one breast. Joel helps it the rest of the way, curling his fingers underneath and pulling it down so his warm mouth can cover your nipple with a groan. The backs of your thighs bump against your mattress and you fall back, leaving Joel standing at the edge of your bed with his mouth open while you scoot backwards.
"You coming?" you tease before lifting your shirt over your head and tossing it onto your floor, joining the flannel.
"Not yet," Joel says back, and you giggle before his body folds forward, covering yours. Excited fingers find the soft waves styled on the back of his head and he kisses you again, stealing your breath when your nipples peak and graze against the fabric of his shirt.
"Been thinkin' 'bout this all night," he confesses with one more wet kiss before his lips drag down your jaw. "Been half hard since I picked you up."
You groan and arch your back, lifting your hips off the bed. His hand finds the button to your jeans and he undoes them in a heartbeat, zipper following soon after. Instead of tugging the denim down your legs, his hand delves down, greedy fingers seeking out your pussy and groaning deep when he finds you wet and aching for him.
The pad of his middle finger drags slow and firm over your clit and you moan, holding his face against your throat in a death grip. You're so sensitive from the buildup all evening that your body feels like a coil ready to snap.
Joel only gives you a few long, teasing strokes before he removes his hand and sits back on his knees to pull your jeans down. You eagerly assist, breathlessly lifting your hips and straightening your legs until they're left somewhere at the foot of your bed. You watch, heat licking up your spine as he strips off his shirt and starts to work on his pants. The arousing sound of his belt buckle clinking in the otherwise quiet room makes you shiver with anticipation. Joel sees it and smirks.
"Dyin' for it, ain't you?"
"Shut up," you whisper, eyes glued to the way he pushes his pants down and off, leaving him in only a plain pair of black boxer briefs.
"Mm, there she is," he breathes with a crooked grin. You roll your eyes.
"Get over here," you tell him, and his body jolts forward, eager to obey, but then he stops.
"Just one thing first," he says, bending forward at your waist. His lips find your hip and his beard drags slowly across your skin, distracting you from his hands pulling down your panties until you feel the cool air of your bedroom between your legs. Your eyes flutter closed under his gentle kisses and you almost forget where you are until his broad shoulders nudge your thighs apart and he settles his weight between your legs.
"Wha—what are you doing?" Your thighs tense when his hands glide up to hold them open.
"Wanna taste you," he says, voice low and thick. "Wanna make you feel good."
"No, that's okay," you tell him. Your throat tightens as the panic begins to rise.
"It's okay, just relax." His voice is soft and you jump when his thumbs spread you open. You can feel his exhale fan over your wetness and your muscles seize.
"You don't have to—"
"I want to," he smirks, "been thinkin' 'bout it for weeks."
When his mouth dips to taste you, you fist his hair and yank him up. You might have been a little too harsh based on the surprised look on his face.
"Sorry," you whisper shakily, "just... I'd rather not."
Something passes over his face that makes your stomach twist with guilt and you let go of his hair.
"It's not you," you assure him, "I—I just really want you to fuck me."
He scans your face and you can tell immediately he doesn't buy it, but thankfully he lets it go. He pushes himself onto his hands and crawls up to hover over your body and you relax instantly.
"Alright, honey," he says soothingly, "alright. Lemme take care of you, then."
Joel doesn't let your weird moment ruin the mood and you're eternally grateful for it. When his lips press firmly against yours and his weight settles between your hips, all is forgotten for at least the night. But something tells you the topic is only tabled, not dismissed entirely.
Desperate hands push blindly at the band of his boxers and you can feel him smirk against your lips.
"Take these off," you hiss, nipping impatiently at his chin.
"So fuckin' pushy," he chuckles before eventually helping slide the boxers down his legs.
"I know what I want," you reply with a pleased look as you watch him finally free his cock. You widen your thighs and reach for him, circling your fist slowly around his girth and giving him a few measured strokes. His eyelids flutter under your touch and it gives you a little rush, having him quite literally in the palm of your hand.
"Hang on." He sounds a little breathless when your hips tilt and the tip of his cock brushes against your folds. You bite your lip and pout when he shoos your hand away.
"What?"
He slides off the bed and searches for his wallet, wordlessly answering your question when he plucks a condom from somewhere in the depths of the leather and shows it to you like a prize.
The frustrated noise you make is involuntary, but Joel reacts to it all the same.
"I was over nine pounds when I was born," he tells you, tearing the foil and rolling the condom carefully down his length. His eyes flicker up to you and he tuts. "Ain't gonna do that to you, darlin'."
"God!" you exclaim, covering your face. "Don't put that image in my head right before you fuck me."
Joel just laughs and shuffles forward on his knees. His long fingers curl around your thighs, holding your hips wide. When you feel his cock nudge against your opening, your hands fall from your face with an eager gasp.
"Yeah, thought that's all it'd take," he murmurs, pushing forward just an inch. Your head drops back into the pillows with a moan. "First taste of this cock's got that smart mouth makin' sweet noises for me, ain't that right?"
"Asshole," you breathe, arching off the bed when he feeds you a few more inches. Joel chuckles again and leans down, mouthing at your jaw, then throat, then breasts until he's fully sheathed inside you with a relieved sigh. He spots an old hickey he left half faded on your skin and his lips seal around it, sucking on the skin to deepen the mark, to stake his claim.
"Fuck," you whisper, fingers rising to get lost in his hair. He grunts a little when your nails rake gently over his scalp. Then his hips withdraw just so he can slowly sink back into your cunt.
"So wet," he groans, eyes squeezing shut. "Feel so goddamn good, drives me fuckin' crazy."
You preen at the praise and let your hands fall to his strong shoulders, palms skirting over the warm, sun-kissed skin. He's so attentive to your body, studying your reactions every time he buries himself inside you, hands always searching your soft skin and committing every slope to memory. His mouth is always on you, either lightly nipping at your jaw or brushing his lips across your collarbone or kissing you to stifle his groans.
Joel usually starts slow, lets you adjust, then fucks hard, but today he notices how you seem to like it like this. You like being fucked slow. It's easy to tell—you're more relaxed and vocal underneath him. Your hips roll to match his thrusts and you're already short of breath.
"You like it like this?" he grunts, and when your eyes find his he nearly crumbles. You're entirely lost, floating. He can see it in your face. You look so soft like this, so open, that it nearly does him in. Then your lips part to answer, but nothing comes out.
"Hm? Like it nice 'n slow?" He finds your leg and pulls your knee up to press against your chest. A choked sound echoes from your throat and your eyes roll. There's something so intoxicating, having you like this, that it's making his vision swim. He can't tear his eyes away, utterly engrossed with watching how you gasp every time he fills you, how your jaw slackens with every slow roll of his hips, how your face warms and your skin glistens from the pleasure.
Oh, he likes this. He likes making you feel this good. He likes being the person to do this to you, to see you like this, so relaxed and open. And he enjoys peeling back the layers and finding out more things about you. It makes him wonder if it just feels better to be fucked slow and deep, or if there's another reason.
"Eyes on me, honey," he murmurs. His thumb and forefinger tilt your chin and your eyes flutter open. He grins and shifts his weight, deepening the angle and keeping your knee pressed firmly to your chest. The way your brows pinch together when you whine has his stomach pulling tight.
"Fuck, that's it," he groans, still holding your chin. Your mouth is ajar and your gaze is hazy but you're focused on him. Sweat beads at Joel's hairline, desperate to slam into you, to fuck you hard and fast and flip you over and do it again. But he holds firm, he maintains that slow pace, he keeps flexing his hips so he can reach the deepest parts of you because seeing you trembling and moaning so sweetly like this is something he can't resist.
"Joel," you whisper, but your voice shakes. He nods and leans in, lets his parted lips hover above yours but doesn't let them touch. Not yet.
"Doin' so good," he says softly, and when your cunt clenches in response, he says it again. "So good. Takin' it so fuckin' good, darlin'."
You whimper and claw at his shoulders, trying to draw him down. Sweat trickles down the side of his head and your chest heaves but he keeps moving, he keeps his relentless, steady pace because something about it is tearing your walls down and he's desperate to see more.
Slick pools around his length, he can feel it. He can feel the way you respond to his words, to his gentle touches, and he keeps filing it all away, reminders not only for now, but for the future, of things that you like. Or, perhaps, need.
"You're beautiful, y'know that?" he murmurs, lips centimeters from grazing your own, "so beautiful. Y'know how good it felt to have the prettiest girl in the bar next to me all night?"
It's hard to push through the fog in your brain. The pressure building low at the base of your spine is climbing. The heat in your belly is growing. Whatever he's doing and saying is scratching an itch you didn't even know you had and it's got you so far gone, you barely remember your own name. And yet, through the pleasure and praise, your mind snags on one particular piece Joel just said and your heart skips a beat.
"I—" you swallow, throat dry. "I... made you feel good?"
If the question throws him off, he doesn't show it.
"'Course you did, honey," he replies smoothly, "y'make me feel good all the time, thought you knew that."
You whine and cup your hand around the back of his neck. It's impossible to get any closer, not a sliver of light can sneak between your bodies, but you need it. You need him. And maybe later you'll be embarrassed, but not tonight.
"Again," you beg, breath fanning over his lips.
"Y'feel so good," he tells you without hesitation. He keeps moving slow, making sure you feel every inch of him. Your fingers around his neck tighten. Damp curls flop against his forehead. "You're perfect. You fit around me so well, shit—" His hips stall for a moment when you flutter around his cock, nearly pulling him over the edge. You whimper and curl your free leg around his waist. Joel pants heavily above you, and your jaw drops open more, eager to swallow down his moans. "You're gonna make me come, sweetheart," he gasps, the admission only dragging your orgasm closer to the surface.
"Please," you whisper, ignoring the sweat collecting under your bent knee, between your breasts, on the back of your neck. "Please, Joel, please..." you continue, eyes rolling back right before his mouth presses softly against yours.
Of course, he'll give you anything you want. He wants to tell you so, he wants to tell you how fucked up you have him, how much he thinks about you and how badly he wants you, but he needs to be careful. Dumping too much on you will scare you off, he's figured that much out by now. Still, the words claw up his throat, begging to push past his lips and into your mouth so you can't escape them.
When you come, it's quiet, but he feels it like an earthquake. Your body shakes, your cunt pulses, and your free hand snags on the sheets, fingers gripping the fabric so tightly it almost tears. His deep groans tumble from his mouth into yours when he follows, hips stuttering as his hand clenches around your waist, holding you still as he spills into the condom.
The kiss doesn't end until the sweat on your bodies begins to cool. He can't tear himself away, he needs this almost as badly as you. The hand on the back of his neck doesn't loosen. His hand on your waist doesn't move. Your bodies remain intertwined until a dull cramp forms in your bent leg and you wince when he slips his cock from between your thighs.
When Joel makes a move to get up, you make a soft noise of protest that tugs at his chest.
"Gotta clean up, honey," he reminds you before folding the sheets across your body to trap the heat. Your hand finally falls from his neck and he reluctantly pushes himself up. Your eyes are closed, face flushed and muscles loose. He can't stop himself from kissing your forehead before disappearing into the bathroom to take care of the condom and wash up.
When he returns, you're exactly where he left you but now you're curled up on your side under the sheets, looking content and sleepy. Joel pauses for a moment before bending down slowly to collect his clothes, but then to his relief, you speak.
"Stay?"
It's a soft mumble that makes his heart soar. He doesn't hesitate to drop his jeans and slip back into bed, under your sheets. His body curls around yours and you nuzzle tiredly against his chest. Joel tries to fight sleep as long as possible so he can soak up this feeling, but his eyelids grow heavy soon after your breathing deepens.
A strong sense of optimism washes over him before he falls asleep.
Pairing: Javier Peña x Steve's Little Sister Reader
Rating: Mature (for this chapter)
Summary: You thought you'd never talk to Javier again... until a newspaper and a bouquet show up in your dressing room.
Warnings: angst, yearning, pining, heartbreak, lying to your boyfriend, lying to your brother, lying to yourself that you can be perfectly normal about javier peña, jealousy, washington dc
Words: 4,800
A/N: Listen, these two have some stuff to figure out, and as much as I want to post hot Javier Peña smut, I have a lot of feelings about them taking their time. (lol I say that and the next chapter will definitely have jealous Javi smut) Thank you to @devineconjuring for her dot eating. Her and @secretelephanttattoo's words of encouragement stopped me from rethinking this story, and I so very much appreciate them trying to coddle my brain.
Suburban Sparks Masterlist
Masterlist
—-
“Amazing show, sweetheart,” Elliott’s accent drips with the sweetness you tell yourself you adore. His hug is warm and it does make your heart beat a bit faster, but all you can think of is how good it would feel to have Javier’s deep voice congratulate you while his strong arms are wrapped around you. Elliott’s arms simply feel like settling.
It’s ironic that your costar, not Javier, is now holding you. Javier was the one who helped you get this role. His support and belief in you, his gruff words of encouragement–those are what carried you through auditions and anxiety-riddled nights going over your lines. He saw something in you that you often failed to see in yourself. Elliott was just the cute co-star you thought could mend your broken heart.
Elliott pulls back from the hug, his green eyes searching yours for a reaction.
You remember to act again. Act happy, act okay, act satisfied, act like you didn’t feel the pair of brown eyes that you always dream about watching as you stood on stage.
“Thank you, El,” you respond warmly as you turn to your dressing room door. “I’ll meet you back out here in ten for the party. I just need to freshen up.”
“Of course,” he smiles, leaving a kiss against your lips. You feel like such a liar as you turn and walk into your dressing room, closing the door behind you.
You flick on the lights, relishing in a bit of quiet after the whirlwind of the day. A bright bouquet lying on your vanity catches your eye.
You run your hands over the delicate petals and notice a newspaper underneath them. Above the nameplate, there is sharp, neat handwriting in blue. Javi.
Tears spring in your eyes, your heart begins racing, and the pit in your stomach turns into butterflies. He was here.
You were incredible. I knew you would be. - Jav
Under his note, a number with a DC area code is written. The air leaves your lungs, and you let out a soft sob, tears beginning to fall down your cheeks when you realize he’s just a phone call away again. A small, fragile laugh escapes your lips.
You rip his number off the newspaper, much like you ripped the photo of him all those years ago. You place the flowers in the sink of your tiny powder room. Now, you’ll have a part of him in your dressing room.
A few drops of Visine and a fresh coat of foundation help hide the fact that you were just in tears over Agent Javier Peña before you head out to rejoin Elliott and the rest of the cast for the opening night party. Now that's acting.
—-
After an hour of galavanting, empty conversations, and congratulations, you make an excuse. Drooping your posture and yawning, you tell everyone at the party you’re not feeling well. Elliott offers to take you back to your place, like the gentleman he always is. Squeezing his hand, you thank him and tell him to enjoy the night. The drops of guilt inside you fade as you walk outside and pull the newspaper clipping out of your jacket, tracing your fingers across the slight indentations where Javi’s pen pressed against the paper as he wrote his number.
You shouldn’t call; you should just move on, learn to fall in love with Elliott, and take the safe route. He’s kind, handsome, and just your type. But he’s not Javier. So, you tuck yourself against a building a street away from the bar and call the number.
"Hello?" His voice. It’s exactly how you remembered it: deep and comforting. You feel like you could cry.
"Javi." You breathe out, your hand gripping the phone as if it’ll float away.
“Hey. Congratulations. You were incredible.”
“Thank you,” you sigh. God, you wish you could see him. Where is he? What is he doing? Did he go home and wait for your call? Does he miss you as much as you miss him? Has he found it just as impossible to move on? “The flowers are beautiful… and the newspaper?"
“I-I was hoping we could read the news together like old times?” A wide smile spreads across your face. You want nothing more, but the wounds are still fresh. You still feel shipwrecked, unmoored by him leaving you, your heart stranded. But, a sliver of hope lights in your heart when you think of that bouquet of flowers and the man waiting on the other end of the line.
“I’d… I’d like that. What’s your address?”
He rattles off his address. Arlington, of course.
“Is it okay if I—if I come over?” you ask, your heart pounding against your chest.
“Please,” he breathes out, more needy than you’d ever expect to hear him.
—-
Your foot nervously taps against the linoleum of the subway car, faster and faster with each stop that brings you closer to Javier’s apartment.
Finally, the tinny speaker announces the Crystal City stop. You practically rush off the train and up the steps, the cool air breezing across your skin when you exit the station. The streets are quiet in the late night hour. A chill runs across your body, goosebumps pricking at your skin as you realize you’re getting closer to Javi.
1111 19th Street looms large. Damn, the DEA has money. It’s one of those constructions you hate, a cold and modern building that comes in and ruins the skyline.
Standing before the intercom, you take a deep, steadying breath before pressing the button next to his name. “It’s me,” you say into the box. The buzz sounds almost immediately, as if he’s been waiting by the door.
The elevator ride feels endless. There’s a ding for every floor you pass, numbers climbing on the little board above the doors, your reflection in the mirrored walls revealing your nervous anticipation. The silver doors part, and suddenly, you're standing in front of Javier’s apartment.
Before you can knock, the door swings open. Javier stands in front of you, just as handsome and perfect as you remember him, looking both nervous and hopeful. The deep brown eyes you've missed so much drink you in.
"Hi," you breathe, suddenly feeling shy. You can’t believe you’re here at Javi’s door. You know him far better than anyone you’ve ever known, the connection of months of phone calls, of falling for the man of your dreams, yet this is only the third time you've been with him in person.
"Hi," he replies, his hand coming up to rest behind his neck. “Do you want to come in?”
“I didn’t come here to chit-chat in the hall, Jav.” Jav. You forgot how good it feels to say his name. He steps aside with a nod, and you can feel the way his body tenses as you step through the doorway.
You lay your purse on the dining table, its surface untouched as if he never uses it. You shrug off your jacket, Javier’s eyes following every movement as the thin straps of your navy blue tank dress reveal your bare shoulders.
Your eyes sweep across his apartment, noticing how big it is for a single person. So this is what your taxes go to, huh? It’s filled with the usual furnishings found in the modern mega-luxe apartments popping up all over and gentrifying the coastline of the Potomac. Dark hardwood floors, barren white walls, and expansive windows with a view they’d put on the postcards at the touristy gift shops. A modern black leather couch and matching chairs frame a glass-top coffee table. Sleek lines, shiny silver furnishings, zero warmth.
He stands, his shoulders tense. You wonder if your body mirrors his or if you’re able to conceal how nervous you are. It’s a strange feeling to know somebody as intimately as you know him and yet feel like a total stranger in his space.
“It’s… nice,” you muse, your voice echoing in the quiet. “You could probably afford a nice area rug in here; might cut down on the echo.”
“I don’t do a lot of talking,” he responds.
“Mm,” you hum. You wonder if he’s just as lonely as you–if not more.
“Did you want to take a seat? Want something to drink?” he asks.
“What do you have?”
“Water or beer.”
“A beer’s good, thanks.”
You settle on the cool leather cushion of his couch, happy to finally take a seat on something soft. You’re exhausted. The adrenaline of opening night is long gone, only replaced by the memory of finding the flowers and newspaper left by Javi. You thought tonight would end in a celebratory drunken stupor, finally allowing yourself a night to relax, ultimately leading to you following Elliott back to his place where you’d close your eyes and imagine Javier as his lips were against your skin. Now, you’re in this sparsely decorated apartment trying to swallow down your nerves as you hear the clink of two beer bottles being opened.
When Javier comes back, his movements are stiff, and his broad shoulders seem to carry a weight, as if he’s not only nervous but sad, too. You feel like he may be thinking the same thing when he looks at you. Your legs are crossed, with your hands folded delicately over your knees to stop yourself from fidgeting too much.
He sits next to you, just close enough for you to feel the warmth of him, to breathe in the aroma of him–tobacco, mint, and cinnamon.
There’s a silence that settles over the two of you as you both drink your beer. It’s not uncomfortable, but it’s weighted with longing and words unsaid.
Javier clears his throat softly, looking at you from the corner of his eye, his hand gripping his bottle tight.
“I knew you’d be amazing,” he says. The low baritone of his voice transports you back to all those months spent on the phone–his deep voice wishing you good night, telling you stories he thought he’d never share with anybody, believing in you and your talents.
You can feel a tear prick in your eye. You try to blink it away, but it disobeys and rolls down your cheek.
“Thanks, Jav,” your voice croaks out. His eyes snap to yours, widening when he sees your sorrow.
He rushes to cup your face with his large hand, his thumb sweeping to erase the solitary tear. You gasp at his touch. Six months since he touched you so tenderly, since he kissed you like you always dreamed, since he held you close as you both drifted to sleep. Two months since he cornered you in Steve’s upstairs hallway, his big brown eyes staring into your soul, sadness radiating off of him. The chill of walking away from him has stayed with you since, even as you tried to find happiness with somebody else.
He moves to pull away his hand, but you snap your hand up, clutching his and locking it in place. Your gaze pierces his as another tear falls.
“Don’t,” you whisper. His eyes soften, and he nods.
You both remain locked in each other’s eyes, your hand resting on his while he cradles your cheek.
You’ve felt so lost, so adrift without him, trying to live an incomplete life. But now Javi’s touch has found you again.
“I’ve missed you,” he breathes, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I missed you so much,” you choke out.
His thumb gently strokes your cheek, wiping away another tear that escapes. His touch feels so familiar, yet it’s so new.
"I didn't know if–” he starts, then pauses, swallowing hard. "I didn't know if you’d call."
You let out a shaky breath. "How could I not? After everything…"
His eyes search yours with hope and uncertainty, and you give him that hope when you lean into his touch. God, he hurt you. You’ve ached for him since that first night you didn’t hear from him. You’ve replayed that terrible call in your head over and over since. You vowed to move on, you vowed to let yourself heal over time, you vowed to live your life without Javier Peña until the newspaper and flowers showed up on your dressing table.
“Why did you disappear?” you ask.
“I was scared,” he confesses, his voice just as low as yours. “You deserve so much more than me, so I wanted to protect you. From me, from my past, from Ste—”
“Jav,” you interrupt sharply. “I’m the only one that can protect me.“
Javier's hand falls from your face, his eyes dropping to the floor.
"You're right," he says softly. "I should have trusted you to make your own choices."
You reach out, gently tilting his chin up until his eyes meet yours again. "I chose you, Javi. I still choose you."
“I’m sorry.”
“I know Jav, I know,” you reassure. “We can go on and on about this, but right now, I just want to be here with you. Just pretend that the last couple of months haven’t happened. I want to read the news again.”
He gives you a slightly sheepish smile. “So, I actually left you my newspaper, but do you want to watch the news?” he asks.
You nod, almost too enthusiastically. “I’d love that. We’ve never watched TV together.”
He shifts on the couch, leaning back and pulling you against him, his strong arm wrapping around you before he turns the TV on and cuddles you against his broad body.
All thoughts of the past couple of months–the yearning to hear Javier’s voice again, the loneliness that had overtaken your heart–disappear as you tilt your head up to look at him, admiring his handsome face.
He catches you staring. “Yeah?”
“Sorry, I just… I can’t believe I’m here with you.”
His arm tightens around you. “I’m glad you are.” He leans down, placing a tender kiss on your forehead.
You rest your head against his broad chest, savoring his closeness and listening to the steady beat of his heart. Your tired eyes blink heavily as the news anchor’s voice fades into background noise, the calming cadence of Javier’s breathing lulling you to sleep.
—-
“Hey,” a familiar deep voice awakens you. Javi. You must be dreaming. “It’s late.”
Your eyes open, adjusting to the darkness of Javier’s apartment. The TV has long since turned off, the ambient light from the city all that shines through the large windows. You’re still nestled against Javier’s chest. You both have shifted, your arm wrapped around his stomach, both of his wrapped protectively around your body.
“What time is it?” you ask, still hazy from sleep.
“Just after 3. We both fell asleep.”
You sit up slowly, untangling yourself from Javi’s arms and stretching your stiff muscles, before you realize. “The subway–” you start, but Javier cuts you off.
“It’s closed. You can stay here if you want. I can take the couch, and you can have the bed.”
Your heart races at the thought of spending the night in Javier’s bed, his scent surrounding you. You recall all those nights on the phone, imagining what it would be like to fall asleep next to him, to wake up in his arms.
“Or… you can sleep in your bed with me,” you suggest, hopeful and hesitant.
“I’d like that,” he whispers.
—-
Javier’s a true gentleman, as much as you wish he weren’t. He leaves you a white shirt emblazoned with DEA in bold, black letters across the chest and a pair of basketball shorts on the bathroom counter.
The feeling of trepidation is overshadowed by excitement as you emerge from the bathroom. Javier’s eyes track you as you cross the room. He’s settled in bed, clad in a light gray shirt, the covers resting against his chest and his back against the headboard.
He pulls down the covers on the bed for you, and you slip under the soft sheets, already feeling the warmth of his body. He turns the lamp off before he shuffles down, the bed dipping behind you as he sighs. You turn to face him, your eyes slowly adjusting to the dark.
“Is this okay?” he asks.
“Yeah,” you breathe out. “More than okay.”
His thumb strokes your cheekbone gently. “Can I do something?” His question is almost whispered out, his voice deep and low.
“Of course,” you answer without even hesitating.
He leans in, closing the small distance between you, and kisses you.
Gentle, tender, full of a promise of more… when you’re both ready. His lips are soft and warm, just like before. Now, you get to take your time, gentle and unhurried.
He pulls away, far too soon for your liking, resting his forehead against yours. “Good night. I’m happy you’re here.”
“I am too, Jav. Thanks for coming to opening night.”
“Of course,” his arms wrap around you, cuddling you close against him, just like the first night you spent together.
You just had the biggest opening night of your career, performing the play you’re headlining in front of a sold-out crowd, but that pales in comparison to the moment you have now. Finally, Javier Peña is back in your life.
—-
You wake to a gentle nudge against your shoulder and Javier’s slight smile as he holds up a cup of coffee and a paper.
“Morning,” his deep voice rasps. “Want to read?”
You smile and yawn, stretching your arms above your head, feeling Javi’s eyes on you the whole time. You nod, sitting up and accepting the mug from him. You take a sip as Javier sits beside you on the bed, his arm wrapping around you and pulling you next to him.
“Front page or sports?” he asks.
“Front page.” You curl up closer to him. You dreamt of these moments.
"Let's see what's going on in the world today.”
You sip your coffee while you listen to Javier read, his arm tightening around you with each story, as if you’ll float away. Your fingers trace lazy circles against his chest, and Javier groans in the middle of an article about some sort of reform bill.
“You gotta stop that.”
You chuckle, pulling your hand away.
Javier turns the page, reading an article about local politics, but your cell phone suddenly blares to life on the nightstand. You jump, startled, and reach to grab your phone.
STEVE flashes on the screen.
“It’s Steve,” you tell Javi, his eyebrows rising in surprise.
You take a deep breath to steel yourself before you hit the answer button. “Hello?”
“Hey, kid!” Steve’s cheerful voice booms through the speaker. “How’d opening night go? It’s not too early, right?”
You glance over at Javi, who’s watching you intently.
“No, you’re fine. It was good.”
“That’s what I like to hear! Connie and I will be there tonight. We can’t wait.”
The guilt of talking to Steve while his friend sits right next to you feels like it will swallow you whole.
“That’s great,” you respond, trying to keep your voice light. “I can’t wait to see you both.”
Javi shifts beside you, his eyes focusing on a point in the distance, his hand gripping the newspaper tightly.
“Do you have dinner plans? Con and I would love to take you and Elliott out after.”
You feel your chest tighten at the mention of Elliott, your eyes instantly flicking to Javier sitting rigidly by your side, his jaw clenching.
“Um,” you clear your throat. Javier looks over at you, his brown eyes widening when he takes in the panic set on your face. He slightly nods, allowing you to continue how you need to. “Y-yeah, that sounds great, Steve.”
You nervously fiddle with the neckline of Javier’s shirt, feeling stuck between making him happy and keeping up appearances with Steve–and Elliott.
"Perfect! We'll see you tonight, then. Break a leg, kid."
As you end the call, it feels like a slight chasm has now formed between you and Javier. The newspaper crinkles in Javier’s hands as he folds it. His whole body looks tense, and you feel the anger radiating off of him.
“Elliott,” he says. Not a question, just an acknowledgment. Your chest feels tight at how low his voice is.
“He’s… we kind of hit it off after both getting cast and he’s been nothing bu—”
"Is it serious?" Javier interrupts.
You set your coffee mug on the nightstand, buying yourself a moment to find the right words.
"No," you say finally, looking into his eyes.
He opens his mouth, then shuts it again, his eyes examining your face as if searching for the right words.
His shoulders rise with a deep breath. “I want you to do what you need to do,” he softly says. “I want you to pick who you want to pick.”
You grab his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. “I want to pick you,” you nervously say, “but, the play and Steve… and I just can’t. If we do this,” you exhale, “then you’ll be all I can focus on.”
“I know,” he soothes, running his thumb across your knuckle. “Friends, for right now.”
“Friends,” you smile and nod, ignoring how badly you want to pull him towards you and kiss his plush lips.
—
Watching Javier exist in his own space teaches you new things about him you never wondered to yourself. Like, he’s actually not very good at making eggs. He attempts to make you an omelet but instead serves you scrambled eggs with a lopsided grin. He’s very methodical while cooking, a towel slung across his shoulder, every spill or drip instantly wiped up.
He takes a seat at the dining table next to you. “I’ve never had a meal here,” he quietly muses, covering his eggs in black pepper and a couple dashes of Tapatio hot sauce.
“Well, I’m glad I could help you break it in.”
You feel oddly at home with him, comfortable sharing in such a mundane morning ritual. Your heart aches at the realization of what could be.
“What time do you need to be at the theatre?” he asks.
“Not until three, but I should probably get back home soon. Need to change, go over my lines, ya’ know?”
Javier nods, his eyes dropping to DEA stretched across your chest. “You look good in my clothes,” he says so low, you’re pretty sure it’s to himself.
“Friends, remember?” you tease, though you’re pretty sure he can feel the heat radiating off you.
“Right.” He clears his throat. “I’ll drive you home.”
“It’s okay, Jav, I can take the subway.”
“I’m not letting you take the subway in last night’s clothes,” he firmly responds. “Not when I have a perfectly good car.”
Your heart aches when you realize that Javi and his chivalrous ways–the protective way he can get without being overbearing, how he cares in his own quiet way–are back in your life.
“I’ll just go get dressed,” you say, quickly rising from the table and turning as you feel tears sprout in your eyes.
—-
It all feels so surreal as you stand in Javier’s bathroom, staring at yourself in the same mirror he uses to shave, removing his shirt and folding it neatly. A single tear trickles down your cheek, followed by another, then another until you’re gripping the edge of his sink, trying to muffle your sobs with his t-shirt in the same way you muffled your moans for him that first night.
The past months without him come rushing back. The sleepless nights when you would stare at the phone willing it to ring, the way your heart would leap and instantly fall when it would ring and it wasn’t him. The fear that Steve would mention Javier, the cruel realization that Javier had moved here and not told you when Steve casually mentioned it. Confiding in Connie in that guest room, her arm wrapped around you as you confided in her, telling her how you had fallen for Javier Peña, of all people.
You take a shuddering breath, wiping the tears away with the back of your hand. You can’t let Javier see you like this, not now, while everything seems so fresh and yet so fragile between you. You splash cold water on your face and breathe. You tell yourself to act again as you slip your dress back on and take a deep breath before you open the bathroom door.
Javier stands in his bedroom, his hand raised as if he were about to knock. His jaw ticks, and his brown eyes search yours, taking in the hint of redness that remains in them.
“You alright?” he asks softly, concern furrowing his brows.
You nod, unable to trust your voice not to give you away as you hand him his shirt and shorts.
His eyes continue to search yours. Your chest tightens, your eyes burning with unshed tears. He’s been able to easily read you from the moment you met him in your big brother’s backyard. You tell yourself you’re a good actor, but Javi’s always been able to see past it, even through a phone line thousands of miles away.
His lips part, indecision flickers across his eyes, before he tightly shuts them, as if he stops himself from speaking the words he wants to say.
“Come on, let me take you home.”
—-
He leads you through the parking garage, the only sound your footsteps echoing off the concrete walls. Javi’s hand hovers protectively just inches from your back, his touch sending a spark against your skin each time his palm brushes against you.
God, you didn’t even know what type of car he drove, and now he’s unlocking and holding open the door of a maroon Jeep for you.
You slide into the passenger seat, watching as Javier jogs around to the driver’s side. When he settles in beside you, the Jeep feels so much smaller.
He looks over at you, before he puts his aviators on.
“Just tell me where to go,” he says, as he starts the engine.
You navigate Javi across the bridge, farther away from his clean, corporate neighborhood with slick-looking tall glass buildings, into your offbeat area with various-colored row homes.
You can’t help but steal glances of him. The morning light gleams across his profile—the strong line of his jaw, the sharp angle of his nose, the perfect curve of his plush lips. He’s so close to you, and yet you still feel so far away.
Javier effortlessly navigates through the twists and turns of your neighborhood, almost as if he’s been here before. As your street approaches and your apartment building comes into view, your hands fidget in your lap. You’re not ready to let this reconnection end; it all seems so fragile. Not even twenty-four hours ago, you were going through the motions with Elliott, trying to convince yourself you could be happy.
“Just up there on the right,” you direct softly. “The blue building.”
Javier pulls up to the curb, shifting the car into park before turning to face you. The soft rumbling of the Jeep idling beneath you feels like it matches the hum of your pulse.
"Thank you for the ride," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “Did you–did you want to come up?”
You can see the thick swallow travel down his throat. “I think it’s best I don’t. You know… friends.”
You nod. “Thanks again, Jav.”
“Anytime,” he responds softly, both hands still gripping the steering wheel like if he let go, he’d grab you.
You can feel the sear of his gaze as you exit his car and walk up the steps to your building’s door. You turn your head and smile at him, and he gifts you a smile back before you turn and walk through the door.
—-
You feel like you want to cry with each step you take up to your apartment. The hallway you travel every day seems longer than usual, as the distance between you and Javier grows. He’s so close now, and yet he still feels so far away.
You drop your purse on your tiny dining table covered in highlighted scripts and art supplies. It’s only 11 AM–you know you need to shower, but you don’t want to rid yourself of the smell and the warmth of Javi. You also should probably call Elliott, to keep up appearances and let him know you’re feeling better.
When you unzip and reach into your purse to grab your phone, you feel cotton and pull out Javier's white DEA shirt. Your heart skips a beat. He’s left you his shirt again.
—-
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reading about the fragile and tender reunion between these two had me holding my breath the entire time I was reading this, yearning javi is so delicious!! 😩😮💨💗
Chapter Summary: Rhea or Rose? Or both? Were you really reincarnated? The questions are confusing, the answers are unclear, the doubt is painful. It felt like a third presence lingered between you and Marcus…or maybe it was your incarnation?
Chapter W. Count and warnings: 15k (sorry not sorry; SMUT (+18) IT'S HAPPENING!, unprotected sex (don't do that!), shameless smut, oral sex, fingering, breast play, multiple orgasms, kissing, mention about death, rom-com, falling in love, fluffy, lying, sharing a room, mention about reincarnation, praising kink, sharing a bed, ancient latin language
authors note: The reincarnation mentioned here is based on ancient Roman beliefs, and more information will be provided in future episodes.Spondeo: promising, ‘I promise.’ Viduus: Viduus is the god said to separate the soul and body at death.
Gaudium vitae meae: joy of my life
my masterlist
Marcus had whispered that name before—right before he slipped away, arrows piercing his body in your arms. You had felt a shiver then, just as you were feeling now. But this moment was entirely different.
Time seemed to flow in a way you couldn’t quite grasp.
Why was that?
Gazing into his warm brown eyes, his hands cradling yours as he said, “You are my Rhea,” you felt as if you had stepped into another world, if only for an instant.
The name rang out in your ears several times—brief, yet it felt achingly real.
“Rhea, where you’ve been?” a woman’s voice inquired, warm and kind, though accompanied by a hint of concern. It was a tone that was unfamiliar to you.
“Rhea, it is imperative that you fulfill this duty. You have obligations to Rome; it relies on your commitment. Do not disappoint me,” stated a deep, authoritative masculine voice, which was also unfamiliar.
And then, countless other voices began to call your name, an overwhelming chorus that sent your mind into a spiral.
But then, amidst the chaos, there was that voice...
“Rhea, you are my Rome. Nothing else matters to me, my love.” This was Marcus’s voice, but it sounded different—softer, more tender... younger.
The way he said that name set your heart racing.
It was only then that you realized Marcus was gently shaking you, concern etched across his face. You suddenly felt the familiar surroundings of your room wrap around you, as if you had taken a fleeting mental journey in mere seconds.
What was happening?
You felt lost, struggling to comprehend it all.
“Rosa? Please, say something, anything.”
Rosa...
Rose...
That was your name.
You were this person, in this moment. But who was that other one? Why had those voices haunted you?
It all felt too overwhelming, crushing down on you like a heavy weight, leaving you frozen in place.
Suddenly, you became aware of your chest heaving as you gasped for air. Dizziness swirled around you; if Marcus hadn't cupped your face in his hands, you might have collapsed.
“Rosa? Please, are you well? What’s wrong?”
You swallowed, trying to moisten your dry throat, and managed to whisper, “Anxiety... Attack. M-medicine.”
Marcus understood right away; it was the same medicine you had taken before, one he had seen you use many times. “Where? Is it in your bag?”
He reached for your bag hanging on the chair while still holding your hand, but at that moment, darkness closed in, and you lost consciousness, falling back. Fortunately, he was quick enough to catch you, pulling you into his arms just in time.
The smell hit you first—pungent, overpowering, and distinctly medical. Ah, that unmistakable scent of a hospital.
As you blinked your eyes open, the bright white light overhead and the IV bottle and tube confirmed it: you were in the emergency room. Hospital beds surrounded you, and there stood a nurse, leaning over with a look of concern.
“Are you okay, ma’am? Are you awake?” she asked gently.
“Was it all just a dream?” you muttered, still disoriented.
The nurse furrowed her brow. “Pardon?”
“You know how it is in movies—you wake up and everything that happened was just a dream,” you giggled uncontrollably.
“Rose?”
“Rosa, are you alright?”
Turning to your right, you saw your sister Lizzie, and beside her... Marcus.
No, this wasn’t a dream.
The moment you noticed him, anger flared up within you.
Just then, the supermodel doctor from your last visit entered the room. “How is our patient?” she asked, her heavily made-up face scrutinizing you.
“How am I?” you snapped back, laughter turning into disbelief. “How do you think I am? I’m in a hospital bed!” Your gaze shifted to Marcus. “This man—because of him, nothing good has happened to me. I hadn’t seen a doctor in three years, never stepped foot in a police station until he came along. Every day is a trip to the hospital, every day is a run-in with the cops. One morning, I wake up in ancient Rome; the next morning, it’s 2025 Rome, and there’s another man in my room! Because of him, I lost my job, he forced me to marry him supposedly for my protection, and just when I finally started to come around to him, the Praetorians shot him with an arrow and killed him! I saved his life, but somehow, I’m the one to blame. I thought he had changed; I thought he felt something for me. Now he’s saying there’s someone else in his heart and that I’m her reincarnation! What the hell do you want from me, Marcus?”
The nurses and the doctor exchanged glances, rolling their eyes as they listened to your rapid-fire rant. Lizzie blinked in disbelief, while Marcus seemed taken aback by your whirlwind of words.
“Should we check for a head injury, doctor?” the nurse asked with a hint of sarcasm, eyeing you as if you were a bit off-kilter.
The doctor sighed. “No, this is her normal state. She was weird last time too, probably still high on sedatives,” she remarked, looking at you with a mixture of amusement and annoyance.
“She mentioned a head injury before, but the results were normal,” Lizzie added.
“Your sister is fine. You can go home once the IV is finished,” the doctor said, turning her attention to Marcus. “I wish you luck with your wife, sir,” she said before exiting the room, followed by the nurse stifling a laugh.
Marcus furrowed his brow at her implication and stepped closer to you.
“Are you truly well?”
“I think she’s lost it enough to mix up movie scripts with real life,” Lizzie said dryly.
You propped yourself up in bed, but the sudden movement made the IV tube pinch your hand. “I’m fine,” you murmured.
Before you knew it, your eyelids grew heavy again from the medication, and you drifted off to sleep. When the IV finally finished and the doctor checked on you one last time, she cleared you to leave. The tranquilizer still lingered in your system, making it hard to stay awake in the taxi as you avoided Marcus's gaze. You weren't prepared to confront the reality of his words or the haunting echoes that filled your mind.
All that you had been through recently felt like a heavy burden; perhaps this was just your body’s way of coping. Lizzie didn’t ask more questions—that was one of your favorite things about her. She had an uncanny ability to sense your mood and adjust accordingly.
Marcus didn’t take his eyes off you the entire ride home. He carried you from the taxi, through the entrance of the apartment building, and gently laid you in your bed. Lizzie paused at the sight of the bed on the floor, the one you had made for Marcus, and a cloud of suspicion enveloped her.
Lizzie stood in the doorway, watching as Marcus tucked the bedcover around you. She called out softly, “Marcus?”
He turned to her.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Lizzie asked, her voice steady yet friendly.
He nodded, and Lizzie headed into the living room while he took one last glance at you before closing the door to your room and following her inside. As Marcus entered the living room, Lizzie shot him a look, motioning for him to sit down.
“Listen, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you clearly don’t know my sister well enough yet,” Lizzie began. “You got married in a rush, and I still can't figure out why she did it, but it seems she truly loves you. Trust me, I’d understand if she didn’t.”
Marcus managed a weak smile.
“I can tell you love her too, even though I don’t know you all that well.”
“Very much so, Elizabeth,” he replied softly, referring to her by her name. “I love your sister, Rosa, with all my heart.”
“She can be a bit of a handful. She's too much talkative, makes snap decisions, and can be difficult at times. But at her core, she’s kind. Things changed for her after we lost our parents in that accident. She took on all the responsibility at such a young age—I was barely a child. She became both a mother and a father to me, working tirelessly to care for both of us. She's also really so stubborn, like, she wouldn't even take help from our aunt. That's a whole other story she’ll fill you in on later. But it’s been tough. She's been on anxiety medication since then, and whenever she gets really upset, it can trigger a crisis. She still takes them occasionally.”
As Marcus listened, his heart ached at the realization of what you had silently endured all this time. He felt the weight of responsibility for the turmoil you faced and never imagined it would be this difficult for you.
“Marcus, please don’t leave my sister. If she married you, it means she really loves and cares for you. After Nicolo, she lost faith in men and in people in general. But she chose to trust you, and that's a big deal. You seem like a decent guy, even if you’re a bit odd. So whatever it is you’re facing, don't walk away from her. If you do, I can’t even imagine how she’d cope, and I won’t be able to lift her up this time. Do you get it?”
Marcus nodded, deeply moved by Lizzie's words. “I promise you, Elizabeth, I’ll never leave Rosa. I live for her, and I’ve done so for a long time. From now on, I’ll do everything I can to make her happy.”
Lizzie raised her eyebrows; his words struck her as incredibly sincere, almost like a solemn promise. “Um, I hope that’s true. And I really hope you can work through whatever’s wrong between you,” she murmured, standing up and remembering the bed on the floor, though she chose not to dwell on it.“Good night,” she said with a smile as she made her way to her room, leaving Marcus in the living room, wrapped up in his thoughts and emotions.
When he returned to your room, he moved closer to the bed. His gaze lingered on your features, as if he were imprinting your face in his memory. Carefully, he sat down beside you and lay next to you, letting his hand softly glide through your hair, which was tousled from the pillow.
“Mi aeterne amor. As if you hadn't faced enough suffering in your past life, pain seems to have found you again in this one,” he whispered to himself. “But as long as you allow me to remain by your side, I won’t let you endure any more pain, spondeo (I promise).” He leaned a little closer, inhaling the soft scent of your hair while watching you sleep until exhaustion took over, his head resting on the pillow beside you as he closed his eyes.
The first thing that greeted you in the morning was the sweet sound of birdsong. As you slowly woke up, you realized you had slept exceptionally well. Perhaps it was the tranquilizer, who knows? Looking back, you recalled that you rarely managed such deep sleep without medication. Just how long had you been sleeping like this? Before opening your eyes, you scoured your memory. The initial thought that crossed your mind was that lovely morning when you awoke feeling truly refreshed—was it in Marcus' bed?
Strangely enough, despite all the nights spent in the villa and in ancient Rome, you had always had trouble falling asleep. But in Marcus' room—even including that night at Claudia's villa—you always woke up to the peaceful embrace of morning light. Yes, all those tranquil mornings were spent in his room, in his bed. Was it possible that the reason you woke up so peacefully in your own room, where you usually jolted awake to the sound of an alarm, was because of his presence?
Could that really be true?
Suddenly, you opened your eyes to a soft sound nearby. It was someone’s breath, close enough for you to feel the warmth on your cheeks.
Your heart raced as you noticed Marcus’ face just inches away from yours. Had he slept beside you?
A smile crept onto your face as you studied his exquisite features. He was undeniably handsome; the more you gazed, the more you felt captivated. His long eyelashes, the contour of his forehead, the fullness of his lips, the dark and silver streaks woven into his beard, and that perfectly shaped nose —even the scar on his cheekbone— made him look like a real-life version of those ancient Greek and Roman statues in museums.
And yeah, he really was here in the flesh.
Perfect.
You swallowed hard and instinctively sat up, resting on your elbow. The urge to kiss him was overwhelming.
But then, your thoughts drifted back to the previous night. You remembered your heartfelt confession, the kiss you shared, and everything he had said afterward. Yes, everything—including your words in the hospital.
Damn it.
You couldn't help but feel your jaw drop at the memory.
As you swung your legs out of bed, you noticed his arm draped around you.
Oh no.
Trying to slip away without waking him, you gently lifted his arm and bit your lip, willing yourself to move. “Come on, Rose, just a bit further,” you whispered to yourself as you edged towards the edge of the bed.
But the moment you attempted to slide out from under the covers, Marcus stirred, his hand finding your leg and pulling you back towards him. He lifted the covers, and you couldn't help but struggle beneath it. He snickered, a low, teasing sound that sent shivers down your spine. Frustrated, you pulled the covers over your face, attempting once more to make your escape, but to no avail.
“You feeling better now?” he asked, concern evident in his eyes as they rested on your face.
“Let go, Marcus,” you replied through gritted teeth, still fighting against his hold.
“Why are you hiding your face?” he queried, gently pulling the covers down again.
"I’m not hiding my face; I just don’t want to look at you. Two completely different things," you retorted, avoiding his gaze.
"Is it?" He frowned and pressed further. "You don’t want to look at my face. Why?"
You let out a big sigh and leaned back on the bed. "I’m so embarrassed, alright?"
Marcus laughed quietly and ran his fingers through your hair. "There’s really no reason to feel that way, Rosa," His smile kind of rubbed you the wrong way.
Crap.
Determined, you tried again, sliding your leg to escape and finally standing up with your back to him. "Let’s forget about last night," you insisted.
Marcus jumped out of bed, grasped your arm, and turned you toward him. The abruptness took your breath away, and your eyes widened as you met his intense gaze. “How could I? I won’t let that happen,” he replied firmly. Then his expression softened. "Is it because of what I shared with you? I had to be truthful. I never meant to hurt you."
"But that’s exactly what you did, Marcus. I told you I loved you, and you…" Your voice faltered, struggling to articulate what you felt, fearing your words would sound ridiculous.
Storming into the closet, you grabbed your sports leggings and a tank top, then headed for the bathroom.
"Rosa, can we please talk?" he pleaded, following you until you slammed the bathroom door in his face.
"I can’t hear you," you called from behind the door. "I don’t want to talk."
Even after getting dressed, Marcus was still there, waiting. "Please, Rosa."
He shadowed you as you slipped on your shoes, but you chose to ignore him.
"Are you leaving?" he asked, a hint of concern in his voice.
"I'm going for a walk," you replied, tying the laces firmly. "By myself," you added after standing up.
"I can’t leave you alone, Rosa," he said, putting his own shoes but clearly struggling with his laces.
"I will be fine on my own, Marcus," you insisted, and before he could respond, you slammed the door behind you.
You turned around as you left the apartment, noticing Marcus trying to catch up. Enzo, the owner of the restaurant below, greeted you with a warm smile. “Good morning, Rose. Out for a morning walk, I see?”
You returned his smile and continued up the steps, while Enzo looked at Marcus with a wider smile. "Oh, look who’s here—our hero, Marcus! I knew you were a good man from the moment I met you. I'm so glad you married Rose,” he said, shaking Marcus's hand.
“Thank you, Enzo,” Marcus replied, his gaze fixed on your increasingly distant figure. After saying goodbye to Enzo, he hurried to catch up to you.
“Oh, like a puppy, he’s following me,” you muttered as you glanced back and spotted him trailing behind.
While keeping a reasonable distance, Marcus couldn't help but stare at around in awe until you reached the Tiber River. Everything he once knew had transformed, and he struggled to adjust. He paused, taking in the sight of Ponte Rotto, now appearing like a distant ruin. When you looked back, you noticed the sadness on his face, and a sense of concern washed over you. If you kept walking without stopping, you feared he might lose his way back to the apartment. Suddenly, you felt a wave of responsibility; it was clear he needed you.
Witnessing ancient Rome, you could imagine how he felt. Yes, some structures had endured, their silhouettes still recognizable against the skyline, but they could never revert to their former glory. It had to be incredibly difficult for him. You decided to pause your walk and return to his side.
“Pons Aemilius…” he murmured, his gaze wandering across the ancient structure.
“It's called Ponte Rotto now,” you corrected him. “The Broken Bridge.”
“It’s been repaired several times in throughout my youth,” Marcus said, squinting as he continued to gaze at the remnants of the bridge.
You didn’t want to delve into the history of the bridge—or all of Rome—as it had changed over time. He didn’t press the matter either; he likely wasn’t ready for that conversation.
It was a very complicated situation.
Traveling to the past was daunting and incredibly difficult, but traveling to the future must be even harder—a formidable challenge that would test his limits in ways he never imagined. Oddly enough, you both were experiencing this from entirely opposite perspectives. As you strolled along the Tiber, you chatted with Marcus about morning exercises people engaged in now, the influx of tourists, and the various newly built structures around you. Marcus, being a smart man, had already pieced together how Rome had transformed over time, based on what he saw and heard. It was justified for him to be surprised.
At the end of your walk, as you regaled him with the story of the Trevi Fountain, Marcus couldn’t help but chuckle. He certainly didn't buy into the idea of associating the fountain with love, considering he was the only living witness to its history. But still, he agreed to toss a coin into the water.
“You tossed a coin into the fountain; congratulations, you’re a true Roman now,” you teased him.
He laughed too, though you noticed a flicker of sadness in his eyes. You both locked gazes on the spot where you had read the parchment, the very spot where you travelled to the ancient Rome and came back. You wondered what was running through his mind. Was he contemplating a return to his time?
“Are you thinking about Julius?” you asked tentatively.
His eyes wandered over the statue of Neptune, and he sighed. "Julius, my soldiers, Emperor Severus, even Lydia,” he said, glancing at you and managing a faint smile. “I hope they prevent Geta and Caracalla.”
You hesitated, debating whether to reveal that Caracalla had indeed ascended to the throne and later had Geta killed. “I’m sorry, Marcus. I hope everything is fine,” you said, trying to sound reassuring but not quite convincing even yourself. After a deep sigh, you decided to ask the next question. “Do you wish to go back?”
He looked at you, smiled, and gently caressed your cheek. “No, Rosa. Not anymore,” he said softly, locking eyes with you, making your heart flutter. “I will miss Julius dearly, and the streets where I grew up—the familiar Rome that shaped my youth, I know so well. If Julius knew that I found you, he would wish me to stay here, with you.”
“You're right; he’d want what's best for you,” you murmured. “But Marcus, who are you choosing to stay for?”
He frowned at your question.
You pressed on. “Last night... Who did you kiss? Rhea or me?”
“Rosa, I told you, you are her,” he replied.
“Marcus, look, this is super confusing for me. I mean, in the middle of a kiss, I've just bared my heart to you, and then you throw this at me… How can we be the same person? Rhea was from your time. I’m Rosemary Louise Anderson; I’m from here. We can’t be the same just because we look alike—it’s absurd.”
“What do you truly know about reincarnation?” he asked.
“I see it as soul transmigration,” you answered.
“That’s not it.” He continued, “In my faith, it's viewed as something that the god Viduus orchestrates with his power. Personally, I've never encountered it, and I’m not a believer, but perhaps I’m starting to.”
“Viduus? I thought it was Janus, at least that’s what Katie said.”
“Yes, the parchment bears his symbol and his name.”
“That’s really odd. So why can’t I remember anything?”
“That’s another question I can’t answer, Rosa.”
Should you have mentioned the voices that briefly echoed in your mind? It lasted only two or three seconds, then faded away.
Even if you did tell him, what would it change? “You must really want me to remember, don’t you?” You turned your gaze back to the fountain. “If I can’t remember, if it turns out I’m not Rhea, what then? Will you still love me?”
“Rosa—”
You interrupted him, “Or let me put it another way, Marcus. If I weren’t the girl who looks like your first love, if I were just Rose, could you still love me? Or would I still just be the girl you were cold to, the one you married for protection only?” Tears began to spill down your cheeks, and you could feel the sobs building up.
Marcus didn’t respond; he couldn’t find the words. It seemed he didn’t know the answer either.
“Because Marcus, I love you for who you are, regardless of everything. No matter how you treat me. But if you can’t give me a straightforward answer, don’t expect me to ask you to stay or to love you any longer. I can’t do that with someone else occupying your heart.”
He took your hand, but words escaped him. He was struggling to articulate his thoughts.
“I think you can find your way back to the apartment from here,” you said, turning and walking away.
Marcus just stood there, staring after you.
Like a statue, frozen in place— a statue filled with emotions and confusion.
He was taken aback by your words; he hadn't considered those possibilities until now. As he stood by the fountain, he searched his own heart, forcing himself to find the answer. But it felt insurmountable. He had been convinced for 24 years that he would never love anyone like he loved Rhea -you-. The question stirred frustration within him. He had treated other women as mere acquaintances, certain he could never feel that way again.
When you got home, tears streamed down your face uncontrollably. You were angry with yourself; why were you crying? This wasn’t the first time you shed tears for a man but this time everything was so painful. Just as you were about to unlock the door, Lizzie swung it open from the inside, keys in hand.
Oh no, she had seen your tears.
“Are you off to school?” you asked, tucking the keys back into your pocket.
“Yeah. Are you okay? You didn’t look too good yesterday. Was a walk really a good idea?”
“I’m fine, dear, don’t worry. Sorry, I was… just feeling anxious about work and everything.”
“Nothing to do with Marcus?”
You knew she would catch on the moment you lied. And you did enough already. “That too, but we’re fine now.”
She narrowed his eyes, studying your face. “I’m glad to hear that. He was pretty worried yesterday. I mean, he’s odd, but he’s a good guy.”
“Yeah, he is.”
“By the way, Aunt Victoria called,” she said while slipping on her shoes.
“What did she want?” you asked, stepping inside and removing your shoes.
“She thanked us for not calling her even once since she left,” she replied with sarcasm.
“Oops,” you mumbled. “What else did she say? I bet she did.”
“Well, she invited us to Milan this weekend.”
“You should have turned it down,” you said as you loosened your ponytail.
“Try yourself. She’ll call you soon; don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She kissed you on the cheek and bounded down the stairs.
You instinctively took your phone out of your pocket.
Phone.
Marcus.
You sighed when you walked into your room and saw his phone on the desk. He still wasn’t used to it— it would take time for it to become as familiar to him as his sword.
You couldn't help but laugh at the state of your room. On the bed and desk, there used to be just paper sketches of designs you were working on, along with fabrics, scissors, and a sewing box. Sure, you were messy back then too, but that wasn't the main change. What had really shifted was the pile of Marcus's clothes neatly folded on your little armchair. You opened your wardrobe and started taking out some winter clothes to store in the communal dressing room closet. You wouldn't need them for a while, but Marcus's clothes needed a home. It was hard to believe you were doing this. You had always thought that if you ever got married, you'd live in the house of your husband. But this was a whole new concept, and oddly enough, you liked it. Most of the clothes in your closet were things you had sewn yourself, often transforming a plain pair of trousers or jeans with some added detail. You loved the idea that the outfit was uniquely designed for you; it had been your favorite pastime since childhood. That’s why you seldom went shopping for new clothes. However, shopping for Marcus was a different story, and you enjoyed picking out new outfits for him. As you hung his clothes on hangers and placed them in the spaces you created for him in the closet, a sense of fulfillment washed over you. You couldn’t wait to see his reaction when he arrived to find them.
Speaking of...
Why was he taking so long?
Suddenly, panic washed over you.
He hadn't taken his cellphone with him; what if he got lost? You dashed to the living room, flung open the window, and looked down at the street below.
He was nowhere in sight.
Perfect—just what you needed, another anxiety attack.
You rushed to the door, slipped on your shoes, and felt guilt gripping your entire being. “Why did I leave him alone?” you muttered to yourself.
As soon as you opened the door, you froze at the sight before you.
Daisies.
A bouquet of them was offered to you from a hand reaching out, and that’s when you spot Marcus.
Seeing his smile made you place your hand on your chest and take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart.
“I was thinking the flowers for Rosa should be roses again, but then I remembered you said you liked daisies,” he said, looking straight at you.
He frowned at your expression. “Are you well?”
Instead of taking the flowers, you reached out and hugged him tightly. “Marcus, you scared me! I thought you got lost or that something had happened to you.”
He gently patted your back. “Don’t worry, I know my way home now. This is my city too, remember? I’ve made a mental map of the new city by recreating the buildings I remember from my time. I don’t think I’ll get lost easily.”
Taking a step back, you observed him closely. “Really? That's quite clever. But you still need to have your phone with you, so make sure you answer when I call.”
“You're right, I will,” he replied.
You took the bouquet of daisies from his hand. “But how did you manage to buy these? You don’t have any euros.”
"Enzo," he replied with a grin. "He mentioned that he owed me a payment from last time but couldn't give it to me directly, so he handed me some... um, how do you say it?"
"Cash?"
"Yes, that's it... cash," he said with a smile.
Ah, that's right.
Last time, Marcus had spent the night outside Enzo’s restaurant, stalking you. Enzo had mentioned that Marcus-dressed as a Roman general-drew in a lot of customers, like a living mascot for his shop. What a great guy. Even though Marcus hadn’t asked for anything, Enzo had gifted him some of the money he earned thanks to his charm.
“Wow, you’ve got about 400 euros here,” you said while counting. “So you’ve made your first earnings and your first purchase. Congratulations.” You smiled and looked at the daisies. “And thank you.”
Marcus sighed as he walked in. “I wish I could make more ‘cash’,” he said, clearly struggling with the new word. “I’d give it all to you. Then you wouldn’t have to work at all.”
“Whoa, hold on. Are you trying to play the macho card, General?”
“Macho?”
“Well, some men want their wives to stay home and raise kids instead of having any jobs.”
Marcus crossed his arms. “That doesn’t sound so wrong to me.”
“Oh, right, who am I talking to? What does a man from ancient Rome know about modern life?”
"In this place, men allow their wives to work while they remain at home without any responsibilities?"
“Well, it’s a bit complicated actually. Societal norms vary.” Suddenly, an idea struck you. “You know, the best way to understand modern life is by watching TV series and movies. Since we’re both jobless right now, why not watch a movie together?”
Marcus narrowed his eyes, clearly clueless about what you meant.
You sighed and began explaining the TV and movies to him.
Watching a movie with the -ancient- Roman general turned out to be even funnier than you had anticipated. Your style leaned towards romantic comedies and dramas, so when you introduced him to your favorites, Marcus ended up asking more questions about the actors, the atmosphere, and the costumes than about the plot. Showing him a historical film wasn't the best idea, but somehow, those movies kept cropping up. In reality, the films were like a crash course in modern history for Marcus, packed with insights about everyday life. Yes, the thought of watching a movie made sense; it conveyed so much more than you could ever explain. He seemed genuinely delighted to be introduced to popcorn and coffee during your movie marathons.
But during the last film, *Pride and Prejudice*, you both found yourselves staring at each other, as it mirrored your own situation. You had always felt a connection to the character of Elizabeth, and you couldn't shake the feeling that Marcus had some resemblance to Mr. Darcy too—his initially cold demeanor had gradually softened over time. When Mr. Darcy finally confessed his love to Elizabeth, you couldn't hold back the tears. “Every single time,” you murmured.
Marcus turned his gaze towards you. “It seems that you have viewed this movie on several occasions.”
“I’ve read the book as well, but this movie is wonderful. My favorite stories are the ones where love triumphs in the end. Ironically, Jane Austen, despite her own unhappy love life, supposedly gave each of her characters a happy ending to spite her circumstances.”
“Happy ending,” he echoed, locking eyes with you.
“Yeah,” you whispered. “Do you think our story will end happily too?”
He nodded. “It will be, Rosa.”
There was a silence between the two of you.
“Have you thought about what I mentioned earlier?”
Even Mr. Darcy had found the courage to express his feelings; now it is your turn, you thought to yourself.
Just then, the door swung open and Lizzie walked in from school. “Hey, guys!” she greeted, glancing at the credits of *Pride and Prejudice* rolling on the screen.
“I would have come later if I knew you were watching a romantic movie,” she laughed before heading to her room.
Marcus didn’t look at her right away; his eyes remained fixed on you, so you waved Lizzie off and turned your attention back to him.
But that night, he didn’t really say anything.
He just couldn’t bring himself to do it.
Milano.
After all these years…
How did it happen?
How did you find yourself here?
It all started with an endless phone call from your aunt, one you thought you would never receive again—a call that might have been the longest of your life.
Despite saying no and resisting her insistence, she managed to wear you down; here you were. Lizzie also played a big part, constantly talking about how much she needed a break now that her school was on vacation. The manor house, a 400-year-old historical monument nestled in a large garden, was just a short distance from Lake Como. Your aunt’s husband, Vincenzo, in his fifties and the CEO of one of Italy's top fashion brands, owned the family fortune worth billions, so it was only natural for him to own such a grand home. It had been quite some time since you had last seen him. He typically worked long hours, and even when you came here with your dad and mom, he was often nowhere to be found.
Victoria had repeatedly urged you to move in with her after the tragic loss of your parents, but you never accepted. You held a grudge against her for the history between her and your mother. You loved Rome; leaving for another city felt unimaginable. You didn’t want to uproot your life—your college, Lizzie's school, and your work all tied you to that city. Moreover, it was risky to transfer your father to another hospital since he lay in a coma after a severe brain hemorrhage.
Perhaps because of all this, your aunt didn’t push you hard. She understood your stubbornness well. Now, though you felt a little uneasy about coming here, a few days wouldn’t hurt, especially with Marcus by your side. For some reason, he made you feel incredibly safe. You realized that waking up next to him felt wonderful, even without any physical intimacy. Yet, you found yourself still angry with him, confused by his feelings and the lack of clarity about his love for you.
What was he waiting for?
You wondered if reincarnation stuff was real, somehow you found yourself wishing for that.
The thought of being the only woman in Marcus's heart was beautiful, though doubts haunted you—did he love you or her?
It was tough to wrap your head around that.
During his first plane ride ever, Marcus surprised you with his calm demeanor. He wasn't scared or nervous at all; instead, he smiled at you while you sat by the window, holding his hand. He was fascinated by the sights of Rome and all of Italy from above.
“All these years, I’ve battled and conquered new lands, I have engaged in numerous endeavors and explored new territories. I believed I had witnessed the full extent of the world. Now, it has become clear to me that the world is indeed much larger than I thought,” he murmured.
“The Roman Empire truly was one of the greatest,” you said, squeezing his hand. “And you’re one of the great generals who contributed to its glory,” you whispered, leaning closer.
He smiled.
Thankfully, Lizzie was absorbed in her headphones and tablet, uninterested in your conversation.
As you opened your eyes and became aware that you had dozed off against Marcus's shoulder, he gently kissed the top of your head. You exchanged a fleeting glance, silently acknowledging the emotions that lingered between you. That's when Lizzie caught a glimpse and smiled at you both. Still, she sensed something was off, and her thoughts drifted to that night she was preoccupied with the bed on the floor.
A driver sent by your aunt picked you up from the airport and escorted you to the mansion in a private car—an unnecessary luxury, one of your least favorite things and a favorite of hers.
Such contradictions defined your relationship.
By the time you arrived at the mansion, evening had settled in, and dinner awaited you. Unfortunately, your aunt's sister-in-law, Beatrice, was present. Unfortunately, because you didn’t like her; she talked too much and meddled far too often. She bombarded you with questions about Marcus during dinner. Luckily, you had prepped your story with Marcus in advance. Although you disliked lying, you had to; after all, the truth was far worse than the worst lie.
After dinner, sitting in the spacious living room, you exchanged smiles with Marcus as Vincenzo poured wine from his private cellar. You both knew the ancient Roman falernian wine was exceptional. Yet Marcus favored the taste of Château d'Yquem, sparking a lengthy conversation about wine between him and Vincenzo. Fortuitously, the ancient world and modern age sharing a common fondness for the wine.
While Vincenzo, Beatrice's husband, and Marcus engaged in their lengthy discussion, your aunt invited you and Lizzie to sit on the veranda in the back garden. You glanced back at Marcus before leaving; he gave you a reassuring look that said it was okay.
He seemed to be getting used to all of this.
Sitting on the veranda with Beatrice, Victoria, and Lizzie, the chatter about Marcus flowed freely. Not only did you have to field their endless questions, but you also had to listen to their opinions. As they reminisced about Marcus's parents, Balbina crossed your mind, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought of your aunt meeting her.
“I like Marcus so much. He seems like an amazing guy,” Beatrice said with a grin as she sipped her wine. She adored chatting about men—perhaps that was why she had been married five times before hitting her forties. She was practically an expert on relationships, or so she claimed. “His way of speaking and his demeanor—they really set him apart. He’s a very noble man. Quite different from you, Rose,” she added with a teasing smile. “They say opposites attract, and it looks like it might be true.”
Victoria took a sip of her drink. “But he’s older than Rose. So, is the age gap 18 or 20 years between you?”
“It's sixteen, but that’s not really your business, ladies,” you shot back with an attitude, rolling your eyes.
“Oh, that’s fine. Older men know what they want,” Beatrice said with a cheerful manner.
“Do they? And what exactly is it that they want?” you asked sarcastically.
“A serious, low-key relationship. And children. He married you in his forties, after all, and he seems like he’d make a great family man.”
The mention of children sent a wave of anxiety through you, almost making your chest tighten.
“Rose is just the woman to have kids,” Victoria giggled, poking fun at you. “But I’d love to see you as a mother,” she continued. "Who knows, maybe you could be the one to give me some grandchildren," she sighed.
Lizzie rolled her eyes and opened her tablet, slipping on her headphones. She knew what your aunt would bring up next. Yes, Victoria and Vincenzo hadn’t had children despite wanting them deeply, and she had occasionally viewed you and Lizzie as her own child—maybe a bit too much over the years. You hadn’t allowed that connection to flourish since you disliked interference in your life. The constant tension between your mother and her was enough to deal with on its own. You could attribute some of this to the fact that you had broken your aunt’s heart numerous times during your teenage years, but she insisted on keeping you close. Guilt wasn’t why you were here, though.
You were thankful she was looking after Lizzie in your absence. But it didn’t mean you wanted her discussing your personal life with Marcus any further, at least not that evening.
When you got up to excuse yourself to your room, your aunt turned to Lizzie, eager to hear more about you and Marcus. As Lizzie recounted the events of the night, including what she had observed, Victoria reacted with unexpected shock.
“Did you say they were sleeping separately? Jesus Christ!”
Beatrice clutched her chest. “That’s awful.”
Lizzie raised her eyebrows. “I don’t understand what’s so bad about it. They clearly had a fight and didn’t go to bed together. Why are you blowing this out of proportion?”
“Oh, my Lizzie,” Beatrice began, “You’re still quite young, and it’s hard to grasp, but this is a disaster for a newlywed couple. Couples should always share a bed, no matter the situation.”
“I think Rose must be lacking some compassion for Marcus. Silly girl, she’s never been one to be tolerant or respectful, not even toward the man she loves.”
“Let’s not exaggerate. Isn’t Marcus at fault too? Maybe he has something to do with this?”
“He’s a gem,” Beatrice insisted. “I can read a man well just by looking at him. That man is crazy about Rose. Poor Marcus; he’s probably more in love with her than I realized. What man can endure this?”
“Overstating? Darling, when we were alone with my husband during our newlywed times, we were at it every minute—”
“Beatrice,” Victoria interjected with a warning. “Lizzie is 17 and a virgin, so let’s tread carefully.”
Lizzie rolled her eyes once more. "Even a six-year-old knows about that kind of stuff."
“We can’t let this go on,” Victoria declared. “Rose can’t endure another breakup after all the heartache. We need to step in. But how?”
“Wait, what do you mean we need to step in? You’re not planning to meddle in their private lives, are you?”
“No, we won’t interfere. We’ll just help them. We have to reignite their love.”
“Oh, I know just what to do!” Beatrice clapped her hands together excitedly. “After all, as a woman of passion, I’m an expert in this.”
Lizzie stood up. “Count me out of this. I’m sure Rose wouldn’t appreciate any intrusion into her life. I don’t want to face her wrath.”
The room they gave you was larger than your entire apartment—possibly even bigger than Marcus' room back in Ancient Rome. The mansion had a classic charm, complete with small fireplaces in each room and beautifully restored wall details that spoke of its history.
“You and Vincenzo seemed to hit it off,” you remarked, glancing at Marcus.
“He's a decent man. His passion for wine surprised me—I never knew there were so many varieties. It's hard to believe people are still so interested in wine these days,” he replied.
“It’s great to see you adapting to my time and people.”
“Despite my efforts, I can't say I've succeeded,” he muttered, sounding a bit down.
You paused with your suitcase half-unzipped, sensing his unease. “What do you mean by that?”
“It’s tough to fit into this world, Rosa. I was supposed to take you to the hospital that night, but I didn’t know how to drive a car. Your sister called a taxi. I still struggle with some conversations, but I pretend I understand. Most of all, I feel like a burden.”
You left your clothes as they were and moved closer to him. “Marcus, don’t think like that. You’re not a burden. Just being in the same house—and sharing a room—with you has brought color to my life," you said with a smile. "Who else can say they’re roommates with a Roman general? I consider myself lucky."
Marcus smiled gently, his fingers brushing against your cheek. “This Roman general feels fortunate to have a woman like you by his side. However, as your husband, I know I have responsibilities. I can't simply stand by while you search for a job. While it may be acceptable here, in my world, a man provides for his woman, ensuring that all her needs are met. I don't want to tell you not to work; I don’t think I have that right. And please, don't use that word when referring to me.”
“Macho? Bigot? Psycho? Misogynist?” you teased.
He laughed. “Yes, those… Rosa; if I’m going to settle in this place, it’s vital for me to have a sense of responsibility.”
“Okay, I get it. Right now, you’re in a Generation X mindset. I have to think of it that way."
“Generation X?”
You laughed at his reaction. “I mean, I won’t call you ancient. You’re in your 40s or 50s now. Anyway, to make you feel better, I promise I’ll help you find a job. But first, you need to adapt to this world a bit more—like learning to use your phone and drive a car--”
Suddenly, he took your hands and pressed both to his lips, making your heart race. “Gaudium vitae meae (joy of my life). I will adjust to anything as long as you’re by my side."
He kissed the top of your hand and leaned in closer, resting his forehead against yours. Your eyes were locked, both following the movement of his lips to yours. When he cradled your face in his strong hands, it felt like you could hardly breathe. He placed a tender kiss on your temple, slowly moving his lips down your chin aiming your lips. Each kiss felt like he was carefully gauging your reaction, tracing a sweet path until he fully captured you.
“Rosa,” he whispered, his breath teasing your lips.
“Marcus,” you murmured back, feeling the same intense feelings.
But just as your lips were about to meet, your phone began to ring. You pulled back reluctantly to answer, seeing the number you had been waiting for.
“I have to take this,” you said, glancing at Marcus.
He nodded and went to the suitcase to grab his clothes. It was the head costume designer discussing an upcoming project, but your focus remained on Marcus as he stripped off his shirt, nearly making you forget the call.
“Hey, what are you doing? Use the bathroom,” you whispered to him while still on the line.
Marcus shrugged. “Could we end this? Besides, you mentioned your aunt shouldn’t realize we’re not married.”
“Ending this?” you almost raised your voice. “Oh no no, I didn’t say to you to ending anything,” you said with a nervous smile at your phone while shooting Marcus a warning glance. “Okay, I’ll be there," you said before hanging up.
“Did they offer you a job?” Marcus asked.
“Yes, but first, I need to attend a meeting. I’m sure she’ll have me come up with a million designs. But I can handle it,” you sighed, feeling confident.
“I believe you can do it, Rosa,” he said with a smile that made him look irresistibly charming, especially without his shirt.
“I-I should get in the shower,” you stammered, pointing toward the door as you turned and hurried out of the room.
Marcus chuckled at your reaction, ready to change his pants when a knock interrupted him. He sighed, giving up and opening the door. Victoria and Beatrice stood there, grinning widely.
“Oh honey, sorry to drop in at this hour. We just wanted to check if you needed anything,” they said, eyes gleaming as they took in Marcus’ bare chest.
Beatrice nudged Victoria inside, and they rushed into the room. With arms crossed and brows raised, Marcus watched them warily. “We don’t need anything, thank you, Lady Victoria and Lady Beatrice.”
“Oh, he says ‘Lady’ beautifully, doesn’t he, Beatrice?” Victoria remarked, a sparkle in her eye as she admired him.
“Yes, yes. He looks like a noble gentleman out of a medieval movie,” Beatrice chimed in admiringly.
Marcus smiled vaguely at their compliments, his gaze dropping to the bottle of wine she held. “You and Vincenzo talked about wines, and this one was your favorite,” she said, pointing to the bottle.
“We thought you might enjoy a drink,” Beatrice said with a cheeky wink at Victoria.
As she poured wine into a glass, Marcus stepped closer. “Actually, I’ve had quite enough to drink already—”
Before he could finish, Beatrice popped a piece of chocolate into his mouth, almost making him choke. "Top quality, from Sweden," she explained with a grin.
“Oh, come on, just take it. You’re a strong man; you can handle it,” Victoria said, playfully patting his chest and laughing as she handed him the wine glass.
Meanwhile, Beatrice sauntered over to the edge of the bed, seemingly aiming for the suitcase with another glass. She pretended to drop it accidentally, gasping, “Oh no!”
As Marcus continued to chew the chocolate, an unappealing taste lingered in his mouth, he turned to see the wine spilled all over the suitcase and ruin almost everything inside.
“Oh Beatrice, what have you done?” Victoria exclaimed, rushing to her side with exaggerated concern.
“I’m so sorry, my dear,” Beatrice said, pouting her lips apologetically.
Marcus frowned, feeling something was off. “Rosa’s clothes,” he said, lifting up the wine-soaked pajamas that had been meant for after your shower. Unfortunately, the t-shirt he planned to wear was soaked too.
With a gleam in her eye, Victoria reached for the suitcase and snapped it shut. “I’ll have them washed right away. Carmen!” she called out, her voice ringing through the hallway.
Moments later, Carmen, the housekeeper, appeared at the door.
“Yes, Mrs. Albano?”
“Take this with the clothes inside and wash them to keep any stains from setting in,” Victoria said.
Carmen hesitated for a moment, but quickly took the suitcase and left. Turning back to Marcus, Victoria continued, “We truly apologize again. I’ll find something for you and Rose to wear.”
Marcus felt a mix of anger and suspicion towards their odd behavior. Then, to his surprise, they dashed out of the room faster than he could process. Leaving him bewildered in the room, two women in the hallway, giddy and playfully high-fiving each other.
“Isn’t he handsome?”
“Oh, especially with those scars.”
“I wonder how he got those though. Do you think he might have done stunt work in the set?"
“Who knows? But I think scars make a man look more rugged. If I were younger, I’d be head over heels for him,” Beatrice sighed.
“Goodness, you naughty woman. Keep it down, or your husband will hear you,” Victoria scolded lightly.
“That big bear? He’s already snoring away in bed,” Beatrice said, rolling her eyes.
“God forgive us, you're so bad."
They both burst into laughter as they made their way back to their rooms.
"What do you mean they took all my clothes to wash them?"
When you stepped from the bathroom into the bedroom, only wearing a towel, and asked Marcus why he still wasn't wearing anything on top, his response left you stunned.
As if it wasn’t enough that your aunt and Beatrice had barged into your room in the middle of the night and spilled wine all over your clothes, now you found yourself in this embarrassing situation. Marcus, it turned out, was in the same boat—he had no clothes left either. It seemed suspicious that all your clothes in the suitcase were stained with wine.
But why would they do such a thing?
When Carmen arrived with a bag of new clothes, the answer became crystal clear. “You old dirty bitches...” you muttered under your breath. Inside the bag were a few ridiculously sexy nightgowns that were undoubtedly expensive, clearly from Vincenzo's fashion brand. Those brand-name dresses your aunt had sent you before, along with the overly revealing items you would never dream of wearing. It wasn’t your style, yet your aunt seemed oblivious to that. Lizzie shared your taste, but they both always loved to meddle in your lives—just as they were doing now.
“I can’t believe she did this.”
“You should wear something; you’re going to catch a cold,” Marcus said, coming closer and making you even more nervous.
“If I wear this, I’ll catch an even worse cold, trust me.”
“They look like that clothes we saw in that store,” he remarked, peering into the bag. You knew exactly what he meant—those sexy nightgowns he had spotted while you buying him underwear, only causing him to look away in embarrassment. “This meant for me, isn’t it?” he asked, pulling out a black linen nightshirt from another bag.
You reached over and snatched it from his hand. “I’ll wear this one."
“But this is men’s clothing.”
“So what? You didn’t think I’d wear those other options, did you?”
“I think it would look great on you,” he teased, a crooked smile on his face.
You narrowed your eyes in response. “You might be waiting a long time for that—”
“Please let go of your hold, Rosa,” he said, pulling at the shirt, but you held firmly onto your end.
“But I can’t sleep in these. I’m cold, please.”
With a sudden yank, Marcus pulled the shirt again and drew you closer, wrapping his arm around you. “I’ll keep you warm,” he said playfully.
You widened your eyes but managed to pull back just in time; the towel almost slipped away, but you caught it at the last moment. You couldn’t see clearly, but your back was exposed, and you shivered as a draft hit you.“Marcus, please, just give me the damn t-shirt.”
He chuckled, “Even if you wear this, your legs are still going to be exposed. Come now, don’t be stubborn—wear that dress instead.”
You didn’t want to give in to your aunt’s game, but there seemed to be no choice. Your body was still damp, and the wet towel and hair were making things worse. Plus, you could warm up under the blanket. Gripping the towel tightly against your chest with one arm, you took a bag with the other and slipped behind the screen.
You tossed the towel onto the screen as you muttered a curse. The nightgown was sheer lace, while the other options were even more revealing. The most modest one was red satin with a plunging neckline. But that didn’t change the fact that it was incredibly short. Oh, and there was also a lace panty so thin it might as well have been a whisper.
Great.
Each piece still had tags on them, as if they had been handpicked just for you. It seemed a long chat with your aunt was in order for the morning. After putting on the nightgown and panties, you felt a wave of relief on your skin, likely due to the fabric’s quality, but your body suddenly felt aflame.
How were you going to face him dressed like this?
You peeked around the edge of the screen; he was busy tearing off the tag from his T-shirt. “Now I need you to promise me something.”
“Hm?” He turned his head in your direction, curiosity sparkling in his eyes.
“You won’t stare at me. And definitely no touching. We’ll just get into bed and sleep. Okay?”
“Rosa, you’re asking me to do something pretty tough,” he replied with a sly grin.
You frowned. “I said promise me. As a Roman general, this is one of those life-or-death promises... so promise me already.”
"I apologize, but I'm afraid I have to decline."
You blinked in surprise. “Why?”
"I cannot make a promise I can't keep," he said with a smirk.
“Oh c'mon! I’m not asking you to cut yourself or something.”
"What you are requesting is harder than that, Rosa." As he approached with intent, his focus remained steady on you. "I wish for you to be my true wife. In fact, in my time, we are already married, so let us proceed with finalizing the necessary documentation here."
You raised your eyebrows in disbelief, heart fluttering. “Excuse me?”
“Marriage license,” he said, remembering the movie you watched together.
“Whoa, so you think you know everything now, huh, Mr. General? Then tell me this: why should I marry you?” you asked playfully, caught up in the moment without realizing you had stepped out of the screen to face him directly.
He narrowed his eyes as you approached, taking in your appearance, visibly captivated.
He swallowed hard. “You said you loved me. You kissed me, saying you wanted me.”
“That was before you said those things to me,” you replied, struggling to keep your gaze from drifting to his bare chest. Marcus leaned in closer, and you instinctively took a step back. “What are you doing? Don’t come at me like that,” you warned, retreating further. “Marcus, stop.” Suddenly, the back of your leg hit the edge of the bed, and you lost your balance, falling onto your back.
He leaned over you, but as you tried to pull away, he grabbed your wrists and pinned you down, watching your attempts to struggle with an amused expression.
“If I hadn’t said those things, you would’ve been ready to give yourself to me, wouldn’t you?” he whispered, his warm breath brushing against your face.
“Let me go. That won’t happen,” you insisted, striving to free yourself. But your efforts were futile.
"Don't be so sure of yourself, Rosa,” he said, leaning in to kiss you.
“I can’t,” you protested, causing him to halt. “Yes, I love you, but I can’t do this. It feels like there’s something—or someone—between us. I can’t move forward feeling this way.”
Marcus frowned, tightening his grip on your wrists just enough to almost hurt. “You’re mistaken. There’s no one else, Rosa. It’s only you and me.”
"Is that so? Then why do I feel this way? Maybe there are things you haven’t told me yet. How can I trust you?"
In an instant, a shift occurred in his expression, and he released you, sitting up on the bed. You followed suit, straightening yourself as well.
“Rosa, I’ve told plenty of lies for you, but I’ve never lied to you. I swear it,” he said softly and sincerely.
You fell silent, knowing deep down he wouldn’t deceive you.
He took your hands, placing them in his palms as if to measure the difference. “I understand why you’re taken aback by everything I’ve said, but I truly believe with all my heart that you are the only woman I love. I don’t know how to prove that to you, but it’s the truth. I’m certain of it.”
You pulled your hands back. “I need to be sure too. If I’m a reincarnation, I should remember my past, right? Otherwise, I can’t move forward with this, Marcus. I’m sorry.”
In one swift motion, Marcus wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. Your bodies brushed together, sending a rush through you as your hands instinctively clung to his shoulders. “You obstinate woman. I’m pouring my heart out, telling you that I love you and that my heart is yours alone. What more do you need to hear? Do you take pleasure in tormenting me?”
“Am I really the woman you love?” you asked, breathless as your lips almost touched his.
“It’s you, Rosemary,” he said, using your name for the first time in its true form. Taking your hand, he placed it on his chest, just above his heart. “You can’t easily change what your heart feels. This heart has loved only one woman, and that's you—regardless of the time difference. Believe me, it is you. I swear by all the gods I believe in, and even to your god, that it’s true. How else could I have found you again? How could you summon me? This can’t be mere coincidence. I If you doubt me, listen—feel my heart. It holds the answers you seek. I love you, Rosa.”
“Those words…” you whispered.
And then it happened again. It felt as if your thoughts, reasoning, and logic were dancing with the wind. Marcus' voice echoed in your mind once more: “Listen —feel my heart. It holds the answers you seek. I love you, Rhea.” These were familiar words, yet they resonated anew.
How had this come to be?
Where were you?
A memory, yes, a memory. But not just any memory.
This one was far more vivid, revealing a younger Marcus, hair free of grey, no scar marring his cheekbone. He wore a different kind of armor, and your hand rested on his chest just like now you do. The memory was so clear that you could almost feel the texture of the leather under your palm. With the sweet sounds of chirping birds and a gentle breeze, you could tell that you were younger too—your hand resting on his chest seemed smaller.
Everything felt different, yet somehow the same.
His touch, the way you looked at each other, and the emotions swirling around—it was all familiar.
“Marcus,” you breathed, echoing the tone from that vivid memory, even surprised yourself. The very words from your memory took shape and spilled from your lips. “Marcus," you whispered once again. "I feel your heart with mine. I hear your words—I love you with every fiber of my soul, completely and unconditionally."
Marcus's eyes glistened with tears, a mix of surprise and overwhelming happiness at the recollection of that moment. “Mei amor,” he said, his voice deep and trembling, mirroring the feelings you both shared in that cherished memory.
Then he kissed you, just like he did in there.
Yet this kiss was different—more passionate, more tender, filled with longing, need, as if his very existence depended on it.
In an instant, you broke the surface of that treasured memory, leaving behind the sunlit meadow of ancient Rome and returning to the grand room in a Milan mansion. Your eyes fluttered open as you gradually pulled away from the kiss, both of you surrendering to the reality that surrounded you.
You locked eyes with him, hearts racing, breaths mingling in the charged silence. His deep brown eyes, rich and dark like gems, bore into yours with a profound intensity, as if he could peel back the layers of your soul to uncover every concealed thought. The fire in those eyes ignited something deep within, flooding your veins with warmth.
“What just happened?” you whispered.
“You remembered,” he smiled, his hand resting gently over your heart, feeling its rhythm beneath his palm. “You recalled our first kiss, my love.”
It was true—an unshakeable certainty washed over you, as if the universe itself had whispered the truth into your ear. Yet, amidst the emotional rush, a quiet realization settled within you.
You understood that this kiss was the only physical connection you shared, and you knew the truth behind it—she, or rather, you, was still a virgin.
This became evident in his gentle touch and the unspoken electricity crackling between you. The eager pulse of his hand above your heart spoke volumes without requiring a single word.
But all of that was about to change. You were no longer a virgin in this time or life, and your longing for him intensified, a desperate need coursing through you.
Head bending down, he nuzzled his nose into your neck, placing peppers light, sweet kisses in the crook where your throat meets your shoulders. However, with his strong body pressed against you, and your mind still traitorously wandering off to his naked body, you felt your body automatically respond to him. Involuntarily, liquid heat pooled between your thighs - a sudden wanton desire to feel him inside of you overtook your senses.
“M-Marcus,” you gasped out - his name tumbling out of your mouth before you could even stop it. There were a deep need to your voice, and when his body froze, you know he heard it.
“Rosa?” he replied, his head tilting to the side in question.
“Please,” came your breathy response. His gaze roved over you, and noting the slight breathlessness, and how your fingers curled into the muscles of his arms, his eyes widen in understanding.
His other arm curved around you, hand still resting on your breast. When you breathe, it made the calluses on his sword-hand rub against your skin which sending pleasant little shivers down your spine, causing your nipples drew tight.
“Rosa, what is it you want?” he asked, his gaze locking onto yours with a hint of desperation, longing for the response he yearned to hear.
“You,” you replied, your tone sharp and direct. "I want you."
A sly smile danced on his lips. “Are you truly certain?”
You nodded vigorously, “One hundred percent,” your fingers digging into the firm contours of his shoulders, the strength of his muscles only fueling your eagerness further.
Filled with happiness and joy at the answer, he pulled you in close and kissed you with such passion that your heart raced wildly in your chest. As your lacy-covered breasts brushed against his bare skin, a small moan of excitement escaped your lips.
He used your open mouth to his advantage and slipped his tongue inside, dragging it along yours. You crumbled, kissing him back with as much vigour as your body would allow.
The second kiss was like him, powerful but gentle, fierce but beautiful, and completely intoxicating. The touch of his tongue dancing with yours, the press of your lips, his hands on your body…it felt natural.
So natural as if you were always meant to be this.
To be his.
He moved to allow you to catch your breath, but his lips never leaving you. Instead, his mouth traced your bottom lip before moving along your jaw.
"You can not imagine how deeply I've ached for this moment, how many quiet prayers I’ve whispered to the gods themselves," he murmured softly, his breath warm against your skin as he paused between the gentle caress of your kisses. With tender care, he laid you back onto the soft, inviting bed. He leaned over, you wrapped your arms around him, your fingers first brushing against the arrow wound on his shoulder, then trailing down to explore the jagged line that marked his skin below it. Each scar was a testament to a life rich with battles fought, silent witnesses to the struggles he had endured—years that spanned nearly double your age.
Those painful years spent longing for you.
"You are my answered prayer, Rosa," he whispered, his voice deep and resonant, as he leaned down to capture your lips in another fervent kiss.
“I love you,” he whispered. Then, he ran his tongue down the length of your neck again causing a gasp of pure desire leaving you.
He repeated those three words as he peppered your chest with light strokes of his lips.
Body completely wired, your nerves burning with the ravenous heat of desire, you sank deeper and deeper into his presence; ignoring the slow burn that creeping into your lungs and focusing more on the intensifying heat that pools between your thighs. Gripping his locks, you kissed him back just as ferociously; the muscles of your thighs simultaneously flexing as you grind into his abdomen - in a bid to alleviate the deep ache in the pit of your stomach. Neck straining, you tried to press your lips harder against his. With a soft whine escaping your lips, your hands wrapped around his neck, then slid over his shoulders and down to his arms, gripping his biceps, pulling him closer, drawing him further down toward you.
His large hand slipped beneath your nightdress, grazing the laces of your panties—a strange yet incredibly alluring invention he had ever encountered. You couldn’t help but giggle at his reaction and playfully assisted him in slipping your panties off.
Kneading the flesh of your ass, his digits flex over your skin, and you moaned in pleasure - the sound muffled by his kiss. Gripping your ass harder, Marcus let out another low groan at the movement before he pulled you even closer. his other hand quite busy touching, stroking softly where he hadn’t yet explored. Where you felt burned. Every touch, every simple gesture, his eyes -god those eyes, they never left you, never stopped trailing a burning path on your body.
With a searing vengeance, the dull ache in your lungs suddenly ignited, and unable to resist its burn, you reluctantly tear your lips away from his. Gasping for oxygen, your breathes intermingled together - entwining between each others, and circulating the air between you.
He was staring at you, mouth soft and reverent, like you were holy, like you were the word made flesh. "You're so beautiful," he sounded awestruck, kneading you so gently, thumbing your nipple through your nightdress, and he was actually killing you.
You never knew his hands on you could feel like this.
“M-Marcus, please,” you mewled - the desperation evident in your tone.
With Marcus living with you, sharing your room, bathroom, even bed; not to mention the fact that he was almost always practically glued to you, it was not often that you’ve had any alone time. Thus, it’s been a long, long time since you’ve had any sexual release. And Marcus walking around your room half naked with his glorious body certainly hadn’t made matters any easier.
Feeling the bulge of his clothed erection against your heated sex, your head lolled back and let out a deep, keening mewl, your hips grinding against his a little faster. Through the fabric of his pants, you could almost feel him: long, thick and pulsating with need.
For a fleeting moment, the thought of Marcus' cock flit through your mind - and just the thought had your core throbbing in tandem with his shaft. Because you weren’t prepared for what he feels like and you were dying to find out. Briefly, you wondered if he’ll fit inside you: he was much larger than you, there was no denying it, and just like the rest of him, his cock must be equally large. Nonetheless, the slight concern that strums through you is overshadowed by your lust-filled anticipation: your body wanted nothing more than for him to fill you up and stretch you out - in a way no one else could.
Or would.
Removing your nightdress, he breathed out, his gaze honing in on the way your breasts move with each breath of your lungs, the peaks standing erect and pert. Wasting no time, Marcus sweep his head down and took one of them in.
The moment his mouth enclosed around your nipple, you whimpered out his name - your hips bucking into his. Flicking his tongue out, he licked to the hardened bud; and reflexively, your fingers fisted more of his curls - his ministrations drawing soft mewls of pleasure from your lips. Smirking against your breast, he grazed his teeth against your nipple - lightly nibbling on it and licking again - and immediately, you felt your arousal trickle out of your core.
“Oh, mmm, M-Marcus,” you groaned - tugging his hair and pulling him closer into your breasts. Releasing your nipple with a wet sound, he turned to the second one before repeating his action. This time, however, his large hand finds its way to your neglected breast, and palming at the soft mound, you feel deft, calloused fingers tease your wet nipple.
Delicate fingers danced over the underside of your breast, his digits reverently roving over your flesh as his thumb toys with your nipple - the pad of it repetitively caressing the hardened nub. His ministrations are incredibly tender, and despite the ravenous desire that burns within your stomach, you find yourself letting out a soft sigh as you relished in the attention he lavish on your tits.
Thighs flexing, you thrust your pussy against him; the molten heat between your legs growing uncomfortable and too much to bear. With every surge of your hips, his hard cock brushed against your wet folds, the head teasing your neglected clit; but the material of his pants smooth - and you can’t create enough friction to alleviate the deep ache.
Hearing your moan was like an audible aphrodisiac given to him by the gods of fertility.
From that moment on, Marcus changed profoundly. His eyes burned with an intense hunger, radiating a carnal need as they roamed over your body. His hands, no longer gentle, moved with a fervor that reflected the awakening of deep thirst, yet they still conveyed an undercurrent of control, resisting the wild urge surging within him.
You felt that same fire coursing through you; nothing in your life had ever ignited such an all-consuming desire. Every fiber of your being pulsed with an exhilarating passion, deeper and more intense than anything you had experienced before. In a moment of urgency, you reached out with fervor, impatiently tugging at his pants and underwear. He chuckled softly, surrendering control to you, as if sensing your escalating hunger. Until that point, he had been gentle, almost teasingly slow, but now you could barely contain yourself. Gratitude mingled with an insatiable craving—you yearned for more. You wanted to cry out for him to be rougher, to unleash all his strength to claim you and have you completely.
And soon he did it.
“Gods above, woman, your beauty casting a spell over me,” he muttered; with his gaze still fixed onto your exposed folds, you couldn’t help the ripples of embarrassment that flitters through you. Turning bashful under his stare, you curled into yourself slightly and tried to close your legs. However, Marcus was having none of it, and immediately, the hand holding onto your thigh flexing, his grip turning firm and halting your movements. Meanwhile, his free hand moved from your thigh to brush against your dripping core. Dexterous fingers teased the outline of the soft, dewy petals of your sex, causing your timidness into wanton need once again.
“Marcus,” you moaned once again. Hearing his name, Marcus' brown eyes darkened and in instant, he surged forward - his lips pressing against your folds. "So soft," he whispered against your sensitive skin, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine and causing you to bite down on your lower lip hard in response.
Tongue sliding out, he finally ran it over the entirety of your pussy: circling around your throbbing clit, over the outline of your folds before he teased the twitching entrance of your pussy. When he lightly flicked the honeyed muscles that make up your cunt, you cried out in pleasure; your inner walls involuntarily clenched around the tip of his tongue. The motion caused a fresh wave of arousal to trickle from your core; the thick wetness bathing his tongue.
Your heady taste coated his taste buds, and lapping at your entrance once again, he let out a moan. It was better than he could have ever imagined. Skin flashing with heat, spikes of pleasure prickled at your flesh, causing you to rock your hips into his face - in a bid to get his tongue deeper within you. Nonetheless, Marcus continued teasing your entrance - delicately tracing the ring of muscles in long, repetitive circles.
With your hands reaching out, you sank them once more into his hair, and a moan escaped your lips that sounded almost like a soft sob. "Marcus, please," you pleaded.
Smirking, he responded, "Patience, my love, patience," as he hummed softly.
Slowly, you felt the digit sliding into your velvet depths, and with each inch that pushed into you, your walls contracting around his long and thick finger. Releasing your clit, Marcus hissed at the sensation, “I see you are so tight and sensitive Rosa. Allow me to make you ready for me.” When the hilt of his finger hit your outer walls, he curled it - the motion causing your thighs to quiver as he stroked the sensitive zones inside of you.
Eyes rolling into the back of your skull, your hands tugged at his hair as your thighs shook: pure, unadulterated euphoria coursing through your veins.
Another finger teased at your entrance, before you feel him slip it into you - stretching you out wider. Crying out in pleasure, you bucked your hips into his mouth. Swirling his wet tongue, he licked at your inner walls - lapping, practically drinking in the wetness that seeps from your cunt. His amazing tongue moved deeply inside you; the muscle thrusting in and out as he fucked you with it, and every time it entered you. Pleasure burned deep in your abdomen, your stomach twisting and turning with every motion.
Thighs shaking on either side of his face, you felt your throat constrict as the knot inside your stomach begins tightening.
“Cum, Rosa. Cum for me,” he urged, one of his hands moving to lie flat on your abdomen as he pressed the thumb into your clit. Between the vibrations of his words reverberating through your cunt, and his thumb rolling your clit in small, tight circles, the coil inside your stomach suddenly snapped, and with a high-pitched mewl, you wailed out his name as you came.
Sheer, unbridled pleasure took you over; your blood boiling with euphoria as your body coming alive under the mind-blowing ecstasy he lavished upon you. Uncontrollably, your body began trembling, eyes rolling back as you cum around his mouth. Cunt contracting into a vice-like grip, your pussy forced both his fingers and tongue out of you, and instead, he moved his hands to grip your ass - his tongue lapping at your quivering entrance as you leaked into his mouth, your head spinning.
"So sweet," he praised. When your contractions begin slowing, your orgasm fading into light aftershocks of bliss, Marcus began pressing soft kisses to your clit, the tender action had you sighing.
Growing increasingly impatient, one of your hand curled around his shoulders, your fingers carding into his hair, whilst your other hand slipped between both your bodies. Fingers curling around his thick shaft, you gripped his cock. Feeling you stroke his length, your hand indolently palming at it as you silently awe at the size, Marcus hissed through his teeth. Gaze flicking up, you stared at him through the thick of your lashes, and despite the lazy, elated smile on your face, your eyes simmered with fervid desire, pad of your thumb skimming over the outline of his cock: where the head meets his length. Responsively, his length twitched, and repeating the motion, you pumped your fist over his impressive thickness.
With his gaze locked on yours, he gently ran his fingers through your hair. “Rosa, are you ready for me?”
“What do you think?” you teased, licking your lips with anticipation, your core more than drenched and ready for his cock.
“Very well,” he smirked.
Unable to hold himself back any longer, Marcus' arms pulled you into his arms. Eyes widening, you felt him easily lifting you up - almost as if you were weightless - before maneuvering you both so you were sitting in his lap; your thighs on either side of his hips. Inhaling sharply, your hands move to hold onto his broad shoulders as you felt the tip of his head brushing against your folds; pleasure darting over your nerves as it grazing your clit.
Large hands found the cheeks of your ass, and effortlessly, he hoisted you over his cock - so the crown pressing against your leaking entrance. Sitting in his lap, you were suddenly made aware of how large he is. Of course, you’ve always known - because standing at six foot one, and built of strong muscle - he had never been small by any means.
“Remain very still,” he breathed out. That was the only warning you get, because all of a sudden, you felt him lowering you onto his cock - the bulbous crown pressing against your dripping opening.
Mouth falling open, your throat hitched as you let out a silent scream. Despite how incredibly wet you are, your cum still leaking out of your core and slicking the opening in your arousal, he still struggled to enter you - his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as he attempted to force himself inside of you. There was an intense pressure against your cunt, your fingers delving further into the hard muscles of his shoulders, causing him hissing in response.
“Very tight,” he groaned, his sweet breath wafting over your face.
Whimpering, “And you’re fucking huge,” came your soughed response. As your back arched backward, he nestled his face into the curve of your neck while gently laying you back down on the bed.
"Sshh, calm yourself," he whispered to you ear. “I believe you are able to manage it, meum delicium.”
His words were soft, and affectionate, and yet, you couldn’t help but notice the authoritative inflexion to his words. Nonetheless, the dominance in them only turned you on further, and not wanting to disappoint, you sucked in a shaky breath before nodding.
And with just a simple thrust of his erection, you saw stars. “Oh, Marcus!”
He growled in response and did it again. And you gasped again. His mouth trailed towards your neck, grip shifting across your back deliciously while his teeth left behind little imprints near your jaw.
His mark -he was marking you.
“Are you well?" he asked.
“I-I can take it,” you whimpered. Against your skin, you feel his lips twist into a smile, and puckering them, he lavished another kiss to the base of your throat.
“Good girl,” he murmured. Continuing his descent into your velvet depths, your breath turned laboured as his heavy intrusion continued entering you, your eyes futtered at the sensation and small whimpers slipped through your lips, and just as you wondered just how long he is - just because of how much he utterly opening you up for his cock - you felt him bottom out. Your entire cunt burnt with pleasure, and you let out choked sob.
“Are you well, Rosa?” he asked again, his nose nuzzling the corner of your jaw. Eyes slowly slipping open, you blinked out, momentarily wondering just when you’d shut them, before nodding.
“Y-yeah,” you barely muttered in response, your voice coming out hoarse. Taking his time, he showered your chest with tender kisses; his large palms rolling and kneading the fleshy cheeks of your ass simultaneously.
With his cock buried deep into your inner depths, and his chest pressed against yours - your soft curves moulding against his hard torso - Marcus was all you can feel. Periodically, his cock pulsated within you, the shaft throbbing in tandem to your own quivering cunt, and slowly, the pain of his stretching you to your limit fades away - until it almost entirely dissipates.
While you've experienced intimacy numerous times before, nothing could compare to this. There were countless occasions where you set aside your own desires, but Marcus was different—he skillfully attuned to your every need, ensuring you experienced an exhilarating wave of pleasure. It was as if he had unlocked hidden doors within you, revealing sensations that felt utterly new and intoxicating, leaving you breathless and marveling at the boundless depths of ecstasy you never knew existed.
You never expected a man from ancient time -a Roman General- to be so good at fucking you.
Maybe it was just for Marcus.
He was amazing.
Left with nothing but the delightful bliss of him splitting you open around his immense girth, you softly crooned. Experimentally, you clenched your cunt around his cock, and, “M-Move, please,” you urged, your hips writhing against him. Just as he did with you, you ran your tongue up his neck -wanting to taste him, swirling it around his pulse point before moving to the sensitive skin below his ear. Without hesitating, you nibbled at his flesh before sucking, hoping to visibly mark him. Your name left him in a moan, making you feel triumphant.
Feeling your tongue on his skin Marcus growled and took a hold of your thigh and wrapped them around his waist one at a time. He planted his hands on either side of your head and pressed his forehead against yours, melding his gaze with yours. Then he leaned down to quickly kiss you, capturing your bottom lip between his teeth and bite down hard enough to make you groan. Meanwhile, he was thrusting his hips backwards, slipping his length almost entirely out of you before slamming back in. His movements sent you over the edge. Tightening your grip around him, your sudden orgasm overtook you, a loud moan coming out of you, toes curling in delight. "S-Sorry," you murmured, giggling.
Marcus chuckled and asked. ”May I—"
Understanding his unspoken request, you eagerly replied, "Yes, please, don’t stop," You were keen for him to continue, hoping for more.
He smirked and showered gentle kisses on your breasts, leaving the both of you wanting more.
He then set a brutal pace.
You couldn’t even move your hips to meet his thrusts; your legs wrapped around his waist put you at an angle where you have no choice but to take what he gave you. He grasped your ass and angled your hips upwards, forcing him deeper inside you. You could feel every delicious inch of him as he thrust into you, hitting your sweet spot with every surge forwards. He leaned forward, taking your legs with him, almost bending you in half, and captured your mouth with his. In comparison to the movement of his hips, the kiss was soft and gentle. The contrast made your head spin. You didn’t think there was a drug in this world that could give you the same effect.
You couldn’t believe you were close to having your third orgasm. You felt exhausted, at the same time, you didn’t want him to stop. You would happily let him fuck you until he split you open; even then, you’d probably beg for more.
You felt your slick down your thighs, creeping across your ass, and took less than a second to suspect there was a large stain forming on the sheets beneath you. But you were thrown out of that thought when a particularly hard slam of Marcus' hips had you screaming his name.
In your state of delirium, you didn’t feel Marcus spun you onto your stomach. He didn’t break the connection not even single second. He planted soft kisses all over your back, sensing that you were starting to lose control of your limbs and helped hoist you to your knees. His fingers dug into your hips hard enough to bruise. But you would welcome any bruise and mark he left on your body, you wouldn’t care.
A beautiful warmth enveloped you when Marcus bent forward, pressing his chest against your back. He reached for one of your hands and interlinked your fingers. You managed to find the energy to squeeze his hand. His thrusts were slow but incredibly deep at this angle, and you felt every inch of him inside you.
"I love you, Rosa,” he spoke low in your ear.
Turning your head to the side, you took your free hand and reached up to cup the side of his face, pressing as much of him against you as you can.
“I love you, too, Marcus.”
His hands returned to your hips as he straightened up behind you, squeezing your flesh; you gasped as your hips buck. A hand on your back forceing you lower into the bed, angling your ass higher.
He snapped his hips forward, contorting your body into an almost-uncomfortable position. Then, he thrusted in and out of you at a speed that should be impossible; you screamed his name over and over.
The sound of his skin slapping against yours, the rippling of your ass every time he went forward, and the sinful noise of his cock sliding in and out of you drag you higher. You felt yourself clenching around him once again, and if the noise that left him was any indication, he felt it too. And you felt it too-- he was close.
Suddenly, it hit you that you hadn't been taking your birth control pills for some time, and you realized you didn't have a condom on hand.
“Fuck,” you grunted. “I-“
A curse in his native tongue—Latin, though you’d never heard it before—slipped from his lips as he quickened his pace. His arm wrapped around you, almost leaving you breathless. Suddenly, without warning, your fourth and final orgasm hit you like a whirlwind, leaving you momentarily breathless and forgetting who you were. A few seconds later, Marcus moaned behind you, enjoying his own release. You could sense his ragged breath brushing against your cheek.
You felt your body melt into the sheets, your limbs too overstimulated to hold you. Then, you welcomed the warm weight of Marcus as he collapsed on top of you. He wiped your sweat-drenched hair off your face and smiled down at you.
You smiled back at him and he slowly pulled out, both of you let out low moans as his thick cock retreated out of your sensitive cunt, you felt his cum follow - trickling in thin rivers out of your slidely gaping entrance and down your ass. Feeling at the sensation, your walls involutarily clenched - in a poor attempt to keep as much of feeling inside you as possible - through, the movement only causing more of him to spill out, a vivid reminder of the passionate moment you had just shared.
It was absolutely exhilarating—an incredible rush of emotions— But as the initial bliss began to fade, a worry crept in: it hadn’t been protected sex.
Well it wasn’t his fault; how could he know? He was unaware of the modern methods.
“Meum corculum (my sweetheart),” he murmured, wrapping his arms around you, drawing you close to his chest. With your back to him, his nose nestled in your hair, you slowly drifted off to sleep, surrendering to the exhaustion that had taken over.
It would be a good idea to pick up the morning-after pill at the pharmacy tomorrow.
Yes, you should have.
At the same time, near the mansion.
a man sat in a black car, sending photographs from his phone to an email address. These were your images—taken at the airport, by the Tiber River, and outside your apartment building.
When the phone rang, he answered, glancing at the mansion silhouetted in the darkness. “Yes, I’ve been tracking her since she landed in Milan. The parchment is still with her. This time, we’re certain... It’s her,” he said.
Whatever the person on the other end of the line responded made him smirk. “Don’t worry; she’ll be on set for a meeting later this week, and then we’ll make our move,” he replied confidently before hanging up.
He then drove off into the night.
hope you enjoyed the chapter babies, thanks for reading ❤️ Your thoughts are important to me, so please share them with me.
this chapter was such a whirlwind again!! the drama, the meddling aunties, the sweet soft marcus AND the HOT DOMMY MARCUS cracking his beloved rosa like a glowstick after she remembered!!! 😍🥰🔥🥵
AHAHAH STOPPP not Marcus cracking his beloved Rosa like a glowstick 💀 I am never recovering from this description lmaooo
listen darling, that man spent YEARS suffering, yearning, pining, grieving, being a soldier and being miserable all at the same time 😩the second he reunited with his love, and Rosa got her memories back he went from a sad little candle flame to a damn dormant volcano finally erupting fjdjd 😭🌋 and can we really blame him?? after all that time he had a LOT of coughs emotions to get out... a LOT of things he'd been holding in... 👀 ...and yes, I am talking about his feelings -a lot of hot feelings-. obviously. 😌💋
oooh angel my queen, the way you just described your flamin’ hot general of rome being a volcano that was set to burst with emotions *wink wink* is so HOT that I just might spontaniously combust!! 🫠🥵🔥 thank YOUUU for sharing this amazing story and your talent with all of us!! 😍🥰😘
summary: You loved playing in the orchestra, but when you needed a change, you started busking at a few places around town just for fun. You weren't expecting the attractive man that stopped to listen. Or his smile.
a/n: happy birthday to my amazing friend and the best beta reader, @katareyoudrilling!! you are busy playing your violin right now, at this very moment, performing Holst's Planets, which I know must be amazing. so I hope you like this little treat when you get back. I'm so, so glad we met on here and so happy to have you as a friend. 🧡🥰 also shout out to @secretelephanttattoo who prompted me with what became the original version of this idea almost a year ago! and thank you to @hauntedhowlett for reading this and reassuring me since I obviously couldn't ask Katie. lol
tags/warnings: flirting, fluff, meet cute, busking, my attempt at sounding smart about music and playing violin, Katie I did my best lol, coffee mention, a teensy bit of angst/worry, touching, kissing, reader is a professional musician but no description otherwise
...
It was Tuesday, so you were at your spot near the Archives stop. Not inside the metro, since they could be a bit picky about that, but just outside. It was a good spot — you usually caught the suits going to work and the tourists heading for the National Mall or a museum. On Tuesday mornings it was busy but not so busy that you had to compete with other musicians.
You’d been playing for about 30 minutes when you saw him. You tried not to smile when you caught the angle of his shoulders out of the corner of your eye.
Him, the reason you’d been thinking about coming to this spot more than twice a week, even though it didn’t fit in your hectic schedule of rehearsals and performances. You’d only started busking a couple of months before, dying for something different, to play something different.
He was tall with dark hair and an absurdly handsome face. He was clearly a fed – he always wore a suit, for one, and he walked like the rest of them. Like he had somewhere to be but he didn’t necessarily want to go there. Blank face, steady gait.
Broad shoulders.
You decided weeks ago that he was probably with the bureau, just going by the suit and the direction he turned out of the station. But he was definitely the hottest agent you’d ever seen. He didn’t look like an agent, otherwise — were any other agents this attractive?
And then there was the way he smiled whenever he stopped to listen to you play.
You’d noticed, a couple of weeks back, that he always seemed to walk by whenever you were there. And he would always stop for at least a few minutes to listen and smile and distract you from your music.
On that Tuesday you were just starting up the Indiana Jones theme song — you liked to throw in a few crowd pleasers, of course, and this one always caught people’s attention — when he appeared at the top of the stairs to the station. You’d also noticed that he seemed to stay longer when you were playing pieces from movie scores, so you had added a couple more to your repertoire.
You refused to stare, but you tracked him as he got closer and slowed to a stop to your right. He joined the small crowd that had stopped to listen and you smiled to yourself. You could feel his eyes on you as you played and you fought a shiver.
Like always, he watched and smiled and clapped when you finished. And then he dropped some change in your open violin case and turned to walk away.
As he turned, he caught your eye, and you felt the moment stretch around you.
He winked.
…
The following Thursday you noticed something new — he appeared at the top of the stairs about 6 minutes earlier than usual, as if he’d caught an earlier train.
You just noted it, at the time, nothing more than a curious change in his schedule. Maybe he had an early meeting? But then on the following Tuesday he did it again, and on the Thursday after that.
As always, he seemed to really enjoy your music. He tapped his foot during “Fly Me to the Moon” and laughed when two little girls danced to “Let It Go.” (You didn’t let your eyes linger on how his laugh lit up his face.) He even seemed to appreciate the classical pieces that you knew many of your listeners couldn’t name. And each time, he stayed longer to listen, only turning to leave at his usual time. As if he’d gotten an earlier train just so he could stay longer.
Your entire face turned hot every time you thought about it. That couldn’t be it, right? An earlier train, just to listen to me? You turned it over in your mind while sitting on the train yourself and in rehearsal and at home.
But whatever the reason, he did stay and smile and listen to you play, every time.
…
One Thursday morning, about two weeks after he changed his schedule, he didn’t appear at all.
When he didn’t come up the stairs at the new, earlier time, you shrugged, mentally. But when he didn’t appear at his previous normal time, or any time after that, you started to worry.
Maybe he’s sick? you wondered as you gently put away your violin, much later than usual. You might have stayed, waiting to see if he would appear, but you couldn’t push it any longer and make it home before rehearsal. Maybe he has a day off. You couldn’t stop yourself from running down the list of options in your mind as you started to walk towards the metro.
Maybe he got a new job and I’ll never see him again? You bit your lip, brows furrowed.
But what could you do? You didn’t even know this guy, outside of your weeks-long habit of making eye contact twice a week. Steady eye contact that made you shiver and turn warm and smile, when you remembered it later, but nothing more than that.
Still, you worried about it all weekend. You even told your best friend, who already knew about your “hot FBI guy,” and who told you, “I mean, there’s nothing you can do about it until Tuesday.”
Thanks, Mari.
So, you worried.
On Tuesday you woke up early, already jittery with nerves. Would he be back? You wished the question hadn’t plagued you all weekend, but it had.
You packed your bag and thermos of tea and headed for the metro with your violin. You knew you would be there about half an hour earlier than normal, but you couldn’t stand to be in your apartment for even another minute.
The crowd was a bit more sparse so early in the morning, but you quickly set up in your usual spot outside of the Archives station. You did a short warm up to get ready.
And then you took a deep breath, and began to play.
Immediately, you felt a bit more at ease – concentrating on the music helped. You’d made it through two pieces and were feeling much more relaxed when you were startled by a cough to your right.
You jumped a little and your bow made a little squeaking noise where you held it against the strings. You winced as you turned.
It was him.
He smiled and waved and you felt yourself begin to smile back. You spoke before you consciously decided to, and exclaimed, “you’re back!’
His smile widened and he ducked his head, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “Yeah,” he said, and you blinked. His voice was very deep and warm. “I was sick last week. You… you noticed?” he asked, and looked at you with his head still ducked. It was very cute.
You felt your face get warm, realizing what you’d given away. “Of course,” you said, deciding to lean into it. You looked around and saw that the rest of your small crowd had drifted away, so you stepped closer. “I mean, you’re a regular.” You smiled and tilted your head.
He stepped closer, too. He was looking up at you now. “Do you have many regulars?” He looked hopeful. It was a very cute look on him.
You shook your head, laughing. “You know, I do have a few. But only one that I look for every morning.”
He started to grin. “Just one?”
You bit your lip and nodded. “I might keep an eye on the exit over there while I’m playing, you know.”
“I uh…” he laughed, looking a bit sheepish. “I might have started getting up earlier, so I could be here longer.”
You grinned at him. I knew it. “I might have noticed.”
For a moment you just smiled at each other. He cleared his throat and held out his hand. “I’m Marcus, by the way.”
You looked down at your hands, which were holding your violin and your bow.
“Oh! Sorry,” he started to drop his hand, but you quickly transferred your bow to your other hand, gently holding both in your fingers. You held out your hand and introduced yourself.
He slid his hand into yours, and you couldn’t help but notice it was warm, and big. You shivered.
“Nice to meet you,” he murmured, not letting go of your hand. “Do you think I could buy you a coffee sometime?” He squeezed your hand gently.
You smiled. “You’re early today,” you said, voice teasing. “How about now?”
He grinned and nodded. “Now is great.”
You slipped your hand out of his, immediately wishing you hadn’t. But you turned to pack up your violin. “You know,” you said, looking at him over your shoulder, “I was hoping you’d talk to me, sometime.”
Marcus was still smiling. “I wanted to,” he said, a bit wistful. “I didn’t want to bother you, if I was just some guy to you. Thought maybe it was just me that couldn’t keep my eyes off of the pretty violin player every morning.”
You turned back to your violin case, grinning. “You didn’t notice how I kept sneaking glances at the hot guy in the suit? The one who actually seemed to appreciate the music?”
You stood and turned, and found him suddenly much closer. His eyes crinkled as he smiled at you. “I might have. And I do. You play beautifully, you know. Just didn’t want to assume anything.” He looked down at your bag. “You ready?”
Nodding, you let him take your hand and lace your fingers together. “Let’s go.”
He led you to a cute coffee shop just around the corner. “I usually stop in here on my way to work, but lately I haven’t had time.”
You quirked an eyebrow at him as he held the door open. “No?”
He smiled. “I might have been staying and listening until the last possible moment, before I would be late to work.”
“Marcus,” you said, voice serious. “Have you been skipping your morning coffee to listen to me play?”
He laughed. “Maybe. Is that weird?”
You shook your head, smiling, as you stepped towards the counter. “I’m honored,” you said, mock serious, and he laughed again. He was so lovely when he laughed, you wanted to make him laugh again. “But really, how have you been dealing without coffee?”
He smirked. “Well, it’s been tough,” he said, matching your mock serious tone. “But worth it.”
Your face warmed again as you turned to order. Marcus bought both of your coffees before you could stop him. “I’ll get the next one,” you said, and he turned to look at you.
“Next one?” he asked, smiling. “You’d do this again?”
“What, you wouldn’t?” You asked, teasing.
He picked up your coffees and nodded towards an empty table by the window. “Oh I would,” he said, sounding sure. “Just happy to hear you would, too.”
Over coffee you learned you’d been right – he was an FBI agent – but you never would have guessed what he focused on. “Art crimes, huh?”
He nodded. “I know, it’s not the usual thing.”
You shrugged. “Not sure I know much about it, either way. But it sounds interesting. Did you study art or something else related to being an agent? Wait, what do agents study?”
Marcus laughed and you let your eyes trace over his eye crinkles. Cute. “I studied art history, but yeah, agents study a lot of things. And you studied music?”
You nodded. You told him a little bit about the orchestra you played with, and the shows you were doing.
“Could I…” he looked hesitant. “I’d love to come to a show. If that’s alright?”
You grinned. “I’d love for you to come to a show, Marcus.”
He looked down at his watch and frowned. He sighed. “I better head in, before I’m late. I wish I could stay longer. Could I take you to dinner? Maybe this weekend?”
You shook your head, but teased him, “Marcus, I said I’m paying next time. So I’ll take you to dinner.” You raised your eyebrows and he laughed again, looking relieved. You gave him your number and smiled when he texted you his.
“Alright. Saturday?” He stood and reached out to help you up from your chair.
“I’d love to.”
Outside on the sidewalk, he hesitated again. “I’m glad we finally talked. I…” he ducked his head, looking shy again. “I wondered if you would notice I wasn’t there when I was sick.”
You stepped closer and slipped your hand into his again. “I wondered if you would be back.”
He looked surprised. “Of course,” he said, eyes tracing over your face. “I couldn’t stay away.”
You decided then that you didn’t want to wait for your dinner date. You leaned forward and brushed your lips lightly over his. You felt him gasp, but before you could pull away, suddenly unsure, his hand came up to cup your jaw. He kissed you again, firmer this time.
“I’ve been wanting to do that,” Marcus murmured, lips moving against yours. His thumb traced your cheek.
“Me too,” you said, pushing forward to kiss him again.
He stepped back, but it was clear he didn’t want to. “Saturday?”
“Saturday,” you agreed, and he grinned and squeezed your hand before he let it go. “See you then.”
Synopsis: Reed thinks he’s not doing enough for you and asks the rest of the Fantastic Four for advice to be more romantic
Tags: cute, fluff, humour, smút with plot, smitten Reed, smitten reader, pining Reed, clingy Reed, top Reed, bottom reader, Reed loves to give, daddy kink
Reader is Reed’s assistant. Reed calls you Darling and Baby.
No use of Y/N.
Author’s note at the end :)
————————————————————————
“Darling, have you seen my hair comb anywhere?”
You hear Reed ask for your help from the bathroom, making you roll your eyes with a smile as you noticed the comb sitting on one of the drawers next to the bed.
You picked it up and made your way to the bathroom, watching as Reed was trying his best to style his hair with just his hands.
You softly laughed. “You know you don’t have to always look good while you’re in the lab.”
“Well if I weren’t to keep my appearances up, how will I ever continue to keep you as my boyfriend while we work? What if you get repulsed by me?” Reed retorted with a small smile on his face, indicating that he was joking even though his tone was serious.
You snorted, handing him his comb that he graciously accepted. “I’ll let you know once the magic wears off so you’ll be prepared for the breakup.”
“Darling, don’t jest.” Reed scolded you, a small frown etched on his face, causing you to laugh before dropping a kiss on his cheek.
You squeezed his arm. “Of course not, my love. I still have to work under you, in more ways than one.”
Reed choked on nothing as you let out a laugh, walking out of the bathroom to let him finish up with his morning routine.
“Oh Reed, remember that I’ll be away for a couple of days to visit my parents. I’m halfway packed so I’m continuing after breakfast.” You reminded Reed as you left your shared bedroom to go have breakfast with rest of the Fantastic Four.
Reed pouted, looking at himself in the mirror. He didn’t know when he had become incredibly clingy towards you, perhaps he got used to having you around all the time in and out of work.
When he traversed down to the kitchen, he smiles seeing you comfortably chatting with the others.
In all honesty, Reed had been terrified for the others to know that he was dating you, let alone that you were his assistant.
He was a little glad that Johnny was the one that discovered the both of you together being a little promiscuous in the lab and blabbed about the relationship to Sue and Ben.
You were mortified at the time but Reed was relieved.
Reed’s cowardice had prevented him to be open with his team, his family and it also meant hiding his love for you from the outside world.
Reed, of course, confided in you about his insecurities and was pleasantly surprised to find out that you shared the same feelings.
Now, in present time, the both of you were happily doing normal couple stuff in front of everyone.
“There you are, what took you so long.” Your voice interrupts Reed’s thoughts, making him chuckle as he drops a kiss to your head before sitting down next to you at the dining table.
Reed raised an eyebrow at you in amusement. “Darling, I was only five minutes after you.”
Everyone laughed at Reed’s expense and breakfast went smoothly with you saying goodbye to the others to finish packing before you leave to go see your parents.
You pecked Reed on the cheek, telling him to stay and enjoy his food before walking away to your shared bedroom.
“God, you are so in love. It’s gross.” Johnny’s voice snapped Reed out of the trance that he was in when he watched you walk off.
Reed turned to see the others staring at him in amusement, it makes him blush slightly at getting caught.
Sue rolled eyes. “Ignore Johnny, he’s just a little grumpy since his date bailed on him last night.”
“Okay, I told you that in confidence.” Johnny retorted, getting laughs from his teammates.
Ben snorted before turning his attention to Reed. “You didn’t want to join him in meeting your future parents-in-law, stretch?”
“Well we came to a mutual agreement that he would break the news to them first. I did ask but he was firm in his decision to do it alone and who was I to argue with his choice.” Reed shrugged, getting an impressed whistle from Johnny.
Johnny shrugged when Reed sent a withering glance his way. “What? It’s just nice to see you out and about especially after the divorce.”
Johnny’s eyes flickered to Sue for a second before focusing his gaze back on Reed.
Reed glanced at Sue, getting a comforting smile and nod in response. It instantly quells the uneasiness that had risen in Reed’s chest.
“Thank you.” Reed said in earnest, getting smiles from everyone else before finishing up his breakfast to go see you in the bedroom.
~~~~~
“Yes, Mom. I’ll be taking a cab over, don’t worry about me.”
Reed watched by the door with a small smile on his face as you talked to your mother on the phone, keeping quiet so he doesn’t disturb you.
He watched as you sighed when you ended the call before turning and jumping slightly when you saw Reed silently standing by the door of your shared bedroom.
“Reed. How long have you been standing there?” You asked Reed with hand on your chest from the small fright.
Reed chuckled, walking up to you before wrapping his arms around your waist and dropping a kiss on your lips as an apology. “It wasn’t long darling, I caught the end of the conversation with your mother.”
“She’s excited, complained that I haven’t been home in months and said three days wasn’t enough.” You snorted, lifting your arms to rest on Reed’s shoulders.
Reed hummed, his hands tightening around your waist. “I can agree with her on that, three days away from you is torturous to me.”
You laughed in response, hiding your face against Reed’s chest while he smiled into your hair.
“I’m sure you’ll do fine without me around, Reed. You did good before I came along and became your assistant.” You pulled back with an amused smirk aimed at the taller man, your eyebrow quirked slightly.
Reed huffed, pouting at you. “That was before we were together darling. Now without you in my arms, it feels as though my entire nervous system is shutting down.”
“You are ridiculous, Richards.” You shook your head at Reed, taking a step back but stopping when you realised Reed had a tight grip around your waist to prevent you from moving.
Reed made a noise of disapproval before dipping his head down to nose along your jaw, his blunt teeth then nipping at your jawline.
“Reed.” You let out a shuddering breath, your tone voice giving him a warning.
Reed bit his lip, a deep rumble in his chest. “How about I show you how much my body craves for you?”
“Oh no, you don’t.” You pulled your head back from Reed’s mouth, making the other man huff at you. “I’ve already packed and the cab’s reaching soon, I do not need to explain to my parents why I suddenly have a million love bites on my neck.”
Reed groaned in defeat when you pulled away from his grip, watching as you went around the room to get the rest of your stuff.
When you made a move to grab your luggage, Reed immediately swooped in and snatched it from your hands.
You gave him a look and Reed shrugged. “At least let me carry this down to the cab, darling. I’d like to see you off, will you at least bestow me that privilege?”
“Of course, Reed.” You rolled your eyes at him before the both of you made the move down to the lobby of the building.
You and Reed patiently wait for the cab to arrive, Reed holding your hand the entire time. Reed felt you squeeze his hand in reassurance before you pecked him on the cheek.
“I should be the one driving you.” Reed huffed, making you smile at his annoyance.
You shook your head fondly. “It’s all the way out of the city and it eases my nerves to know that you won’t be far away if the world needs to call on The Fantastic Four.”
“I wish you were a little more selfish about keeping me around.” Reed retorted, causing you to let out a laugh.
You looped your arm around Reed’s, leaning most of your weight on him. “I think you do enough of that for the both of us, Dr. Richards.”
The both of you see the cab turn in, stopping directly at the front. Reed helps put the luggage in the back while you waited for him by the side door.
You chuckled seeing Reed’s slight frown when he made his way back to you, leaning down to peck you on the lips.
“Promise you’ll call or text me once you’ve settled in?” Reed asked you, making you tilt your head at him with a small smile.
You sighed. “I promise. Just promise me that you’ll be safe if the world needs you to be a hero?”
“Darling, we’re the Fantastic Four. I promise I’ll always come back to you.” Reed responded with a smile, noticing the way your body shudders in response at his words.
The two of you shared one last kiss before Reed watched you get in the cab and leave for your parents’ home.
Reed turned back, already preparing a to-do list in his mind with work to distract him while you’re gone.
He already misses you.
~~~~~
“Darling, what are the numbers on the board?” Reed calls out for you, turning his head in confusion when he hears no reply and only to realise that he had forgotten you weren’t there with him.
Reed huffed, feeling a little put out. Your absence had unexpectedly disrupted his flow of work and he mildly wondered when he had stopped being independent and leaned on you for support.
Reed had always admired how quick and thorough you worked so that the both of you could get through the day and still have time for leisure together after.
If Reed were honest to himself, you contribute to his work in the professional field and his personal life by being his partner in more ways than one.
It makes him reflect on whether he has been as loving and supportive of you as well.
Reed leaned back on his chair, his thoughts about work now replaced by you and an idea popped into his head.
Reed quickly stood up, any planned he had for the day now abandoned as he directed his energy into something more useful in the long run.
Reed quickly runs off to the elevator, he needs to find the others.
~~~~~
Reed found Sue first, lounging in the middle of the living room while reading a book. He hesitated, unsure if asking his ex wife for advice on how to be more romantic was a good idea.
“Reed, I can tell that you’re thinking super hard about approaching me. How can I help you?” Sue said out loud, flipping a page on her book without even turning her head to look at where he was standing.
Reed’s mouth was agape before he shook his head and cleared his throat as he walked up to where Sue was sitting.
“Well I am currently facing a dilemma and I would like some advice, if you’re willing to share of course.” Reed replied to Sue, watching as she glanced up at him curiously before shutting her book and putting it on the side.
Sue smirked. “Your current dilemma doesn’t have to do with your precious darling isn’t it?”
Reed’s eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing as he was trying to form any kind of coherent response that he could.
“Reed, calm down. I’m happy to help.” Sue told Reed with a chuckle, making the other man sigh with relief.
Reed adjusted his tie, feeling it suddenly tighten around his neck. “Well, it seems a bit ludicrous and shallow but I would like some advice on how to be more romantic.”
“You need advice to be romantic? Reed, what gave you the idea that you were not romantic at all?” Sue asked, her face contorting to one of pure confusion.
Reed bit his lip. “Well, besides the obvious divorce between us, I feel like I haven’t been a giving partner towards him.”
Sue sighed, standing up from the couch before folding her arms. “Our divorce wasn’t because you were not romantic enough during our marriage. In fact, you were very romantic actually. We just had different ideas with our lives and being heroes had somewhat put a difficult strain on our relationship.”
Reed was quiet, slowly processing what Sue just told him. Logically, he understood what she was trying to convey perfectly but a part of him still felt unsure.
Sue scoffed before reaching up and poking Reed in the middle of the forehead to snap him out of his thoughts. “Reed, maybe you’re looking at this in the wrong perspective. Traditionally, you know how to be romantic with me because I’m a woman but you’ve never been with a man before.”
“Oh.” Reed gasped, the realisation suddenly hitting him.
Sue rolled her eyes at him. “How about asking Johnny? He’s been intimidate with both men and women, I’d imagine he has a lot to say.”
Reed nodded in reply, thanking Sue before making a strategic exit while she settled back on the couch and picked up her book to resume her reading.
“Finally, some peace and quiet.” Sue muttered to herself.
~~~~
Reed found Johnny in his room, the latter mindlessly throwing a football into the air before catching it and then repeating the process.
“Johnny, do you have some time to spare?” Reed called out to the blonde, wincing when Johnny suddenly fell backwards from his chair in shock.
Johnny quickly got back up with a small glare sent at Reed before he fixed his clothes and hair as if he didn’t just embarrass himself in front of the scientist.
Johnny sighed. “What do you want Reed?”
“I need advice.” Reed replied, getting a confused look from Johnny in return.
Johnny scoffed. “If this is an April Fool’s joke, it’s not going to work since it’s September.”
Reed used all of his might not to roll his eyes or palm his face, opting to take a deep breath instead before letting out a sigh.
“I need advice on being more romantic, specifically with men. I heard from Sue that you have experience in that area.” Reed tells Johnny, watching in real time as the blonde’s face turns into one of pure delight.
Before Reed could even register what was going on, Johnny was already at his side with an arm over Reed’s shoulder.
“Oh Reed, we have so much to discuss.” Johnny says with glee and it makes Reed gulp at what he just signed himself up for.
~~~~~
“You okay, stretch?”
Reed looks up tiredly from the dining table to see Ben walk in with bag of groceries. He smiles at Ben, nodding his head.
“I’m okay, old friend. I just had a very long and thorough conversation with Johnny about romance, I may have regrets.” Reed tells Ben with a chuckle, getting a similar one in response.
Ben leaves the bag of groceries on the kitchen counter before he made his way to Reed, sitting next to the genius.
Ben gives Reed an amused look. “Why’d you go to hothead for that?”
Reed sighed, leaning back on his seat. His mind still buzzing from all the information that Johnny had told him, whether he liked them or not.
“I suppose I was desperate to gain more knowledge about the subject, that I was willing to sit through what he had to say.” Reed explained, making Ben chuckle.
Ben rolled his eyes. “Did you get what you wanted?”
“Nope.” Reed replied.
Ben nodded, huffing out a laugh. “Listen, stretch. You’re a romantic guy, you somehow managed to find a star and named it after him.”
Reed blushed, remembering the surprised look on your face before you made him see stars in the privacy of your shared bedroom.
“You love him, he loves you. What’s so difficult about that? You light up every time he enters the room and you barely let the man breathe with how much you drape yourself around him like second skin.” Ben says, laughing in amusement when Reed’s face reddens.
Reed scratched his chin in thought. “I suppose I have been overly affectionate.”
“That’s saying something lightly, pal.” Ben huffed out a laugh, getting an offended squawk from Reed.
Reed then stood up, feeling a little better. He patted Ben on the shoulder with a small smile. “Thank you my friend, you really are wise beyond your years.”
“You calling me old?” Ben retorted before the both of them laughed it off as Reed left for the bedroom.
~~~~~
The day before you were supposed to return from your parents’ place, The Fantastic Four were called on for an emergency.
Reed was disappointed, he had planned out the entire day to gather gifts for you. He was not a happy trooper as he fought off hoards of enemies.
If he had hit a little harder than he usually would have, the others didn’t say much.
After the mission, everyone dispersed. Reed going down to the elevator to his lab, hoping to wind down after realising that all the stores that he originally wanted to scour for gifts had been closed by the time he got home.
When he reached his lab, still clad in his F4 uniform, he was surprised to see you in the middle of it pacing back and forth.
“Darling?” Reed called out to you, seeing your eyes immediately meet his before you ran up to him.
Reed threw his arms out as you reached for him to pull him into a hug. “Oh Reed, I was worried sick.”
“What are you doing here? You were supposed to arrive tomorrow.” Reed asked you, his hands holding your waist tightly as if this was all a dream and that you were suddenly going to disappear.
You rested your arms over his shoulders, a blush blossoming on your cheeks. “I might have installed the same alarm that the Fantastic Four uses for emergencies on my watch and I might have rushed over here when you didn’t pick up my calls or answered my texts after a half a day.”
“Oh darling, how I’ve missed you.” Reed chuckled before connecting his lips with yours, his tongue immediately prodding at your lips for access to your mouth.
Reed moans when you let his tongue slip past your lips, relishing your taste that he craved for the past few days.
Reed then breaks the kiss, nosing along your jawline with small pecks that make you giggle before he nibbles on your earlobe to hear the sound of your breathy moans in his own ears.
“Are you going to show me how much you’ve missed me?” You asked him with a teasing grin that stirs heat in Reed’s gut.
The feeling of nothing but want and lust flowed through Reed’s body before he lifted you up in a bridal carry to the elevator so he could bring you all the way back to the bedroom.
~~~~~
“It’s ridiculous how soft your suit feels but your body’s all harden by all the muscles you have.”
Reed smiled as your hands were exploring his chest while he still had his super suit on. He unconsciously puffed up his chest at your attention on him.
He had you sitting in his lap, his hands massaging your ass cheeks and it makes you whimper in his arms.
“What do you think daddy should do to you after you’ve been away for so long, baby?” Reed asked you, causing a shiver to run up your spine at his low sensual tone.
You licked your lips. “Anything you want, daddy. I’m yours.”
Reed gives you a satisfied smile before pecking you on the lips. “How about this? You take off all your clothes, lie down on the bed and let me take care of you. I missed you so much, especially this beautiful body of yours.”
Reed watched with a smile as you timidly nodded before getting off his lap to get naked for him before lying back on the pillows.
“I’m gonna strip now and you’re gonna watch. Only I get to touch you, got it?” Reed told you, watching you gulp as your eyes greedily take in his body when he starts to strip.
Reed smirked as he got on the bed, noticing how your hands were clutching the sheets in anticipation.
Reed’s cock bounced at the sight, getting a small gasp from you in return when you saw his length jump.
Reed looked down at his slowly hardening cock and then up to your hazed expression, he grinned. “If you want my cock, baby. You’re going to lie there prettily and let me show you how much I miss you, okay?”
“Okay.” You softly responded, making Reed rile up at how perfect you were being for him.
Reed leaned forward kisses you once on the lips before he trailed down to your neck, marking you with a hickey.
Reed hears you sigh, your body reacting to his lips when he felt your cock twitch against his thigh.
Reed smiled as he descended to your chest, holding your hips down when he latched his mouth onto one of your nipples. He knew how sensitive your chest was so he had to hold you down.
“Daddy…” You whimpered, the sweetness of your voice accompanying the loud sound of Reed’s mouth on your chest as he licked and sucked on the nubs of your nipples.
Reed chuckled against your chest before raising himself up to peck you on the lips. “I’ve missed you so much, darling.”
“It was only a few days, Reed.” You laughed, leaning in to kiss him sweetly on the lips. Your hands grabbing his face as Reed deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth.
The both of you moaning.
Reed then pulled back, panting slightly. “Can you raise your legs for me, baby? Daddy wants to eat you out.”
You did exactly as Reed said, watching the man scoot down to your legs as you exposed yourself for him.
Reed licked his lips at the sight, his cock twitching at the thought of no one else in the world seeing you like this but him.
Reed then lowered himself until he was facing your hole, leaning in to give it kitten licks and smirking when he sees your hole open and close as if it was winking at him.
Reed then latched his mouth onto your hole, pushing his tongue into you. Your body flinching before you broke off into a moan as Reed used his powers to elongate and fatten his tongue in you.
Reed groaned into your hole, savouring your taste. He knew you loved it when he used his powers during sex, one of the many things he appreciated going into a relationship with you.
The both of you being scientists and experimenting even in bed shouldn’t have been a surprise but Reed loved it when you accepted him as a whole even with the freakier things he could do with his abilities.
“Fuck, Daddy. You’re so deep in me.” You whined, a sweet melodious sound in Reed’s ears before the man replaced your hands with his and pushed your knees closer to your chest as he continued to eat you out.
Reed feels the tip of his tongue hit something firm and judging by your immediate reaction, he knew he had found your prostate.
Reed renewed his efforts, hungrily eating you out as you continued to whine and whimper at his relentless attack on your hole.
He then wrapped his lips around the rim while his tongue was still in you and sucked, causing you to cry out as you came all over your chest.
Reed then retracted his tongue and pulled back, watching your hole practically breathing on its own before he tapped it with his hand.
“I’m gonna fuck you now, okay baby?” Reed whispered, getting a tired nod from you in response before Reed settled himself between your legs and lined up his hard cock with your hole.
You let out a small gasp when the head of Reed’s cock pushed in, throwing your head back against the pillows.
Reed waited for you to adjust before seeing you nod and continued to push himself in, you were still tight even after he opened you up with his tongue.
Reed always exercised his patience with you, the primal urge to just push himself all the way in due to how good you felt around his cock, always drove him insane.
When Reed finally bottomed out, the both of you let out moans. Reed waited again, leaning his body on top of yours while you adjusted to his girth.
“I’m okay.” You told Reed before he captured your lips with his as he started to thrust into you, swallowing the moans you were letting out.
Reed rumbled happily against your lips when he felt your hole squeeze his cock, an indication that you were enjoying yourself.
Reed’s hips started to move faster, the sound of his pelvis slapping against your cheeks were filling up the room alongside your combined moans and grunts.
Reed readjusted your positions with your legs hooked over his waist as he pounded into you, his hands fondling your chest.
“Daddy, make it bigger.” You begged, making Reed grin as he slowly expanded his cock into you. He was filling you up, testing how much your hole can adjust with the size of his girth.
Reed sighed, closing his eyes at how good you felt around him. “You’re doing so good at taking me in, baby.”
Reed twisted the nubs of your nipples with his fingers, causing you to arch your back into his grip and squeezing your hole around his cock.
Reed groaned, slowly thrusting into you and repeating the actions so you were basically squeezing yourself around him.
“Daddy, I’m close again.” You panted out, your hands wrapping themselves around his wrists as he continued to fondle your chest.
Reed thrusted harder, causing you to whine out at the overwhelming feeling of having your erogenous zones played with all at once.
When you came the second time, Reed immediately spilled his seed into you with a guttural groan when your hole squeezed his cock so tightly that he was seeing stars.
Reed felt himself go limp, slowly leaning his body down on top of yours. He nosed against the hinge of your jaw, breathing heavily against your skin while your fingers played with the curls on back of his head.
“You okay, Reed?” You panted out, getting a hum in response.
Reed kissed your chin, smiling at how sweet you were with him. “I’m absolutely fine, darling. I was just resting.”
“Were you really that pent up? We don’t have sex all the time and you usually seem fine.” You replied to Reed.
Reed huffed, pouting at you as he rested his chin on your chest while you continued to stroke his hair. “I missed you darling, I couldn’t function normally without you. I suppose having you constantly by my side has made me quite dependent on you.”
“Are you suggesting we have more time apart then?” You asked Reed with a teasing smile.
Reed scowled at you, burrowing his face to your chest. “Absolutely not.”
You flinched, letting out a breathy laugh. “Reed be careful, you’re still inside me.”
“Maybe I should just stay inside you so won’t leave me again.” Reed retorted, getting an eye roll from you in response.
You flicked his forehead and tutted. “Absolutely not, Reed Nathaniel Richards. We are not going to be that kind of couple.”
“Of course, darling.” Reed chuckled, kissing the bottom of your jaw in apology before sighing sadly. “I have to say, you coming home early did put a damper on my plans.”
“What were you planning?” You asked Reed.
Reed smiled sheepishly at you. “I wanted to surprise you with a date and get you gifts since you’ve done so much for me. I feel as though I have been lacking in flaunting my love for you.”
Your eyes widened for a second before you started to laugh, quickly calming down as you stroked Reed cheekbone with your thumb.
“Reed, you are the most romantic man I’ve ever met in my life.” You told Reed.
Reed frowned. “You know other romantic men?”
“My love, focus.” You flicked Reed’s temple, getting a small wince in response.
You shook your head fondly. “You’ve done so much for me. You are one of the most brilliant minds this planet has to offer and I feel so lucky to be around you everyday.”
Reed felt the side of his mouth twitch in response, his heart growing a couple of sizes at your words.
You chuckled. “And you were my first. My first kiss, first time and first love. I’m hoping you’ll be my last love as well, I don’t think I could live without you if we ever broke up.”
“We won’t. You are my whole world, I could never let you go.” Reed insisted, making you smile softly at him before you tugged on him so he could come up to kiss you.
The both of you sharing a sweet kiss, layered with a lifetime of love and happiness with each other.
“Let’s just do all the plans you wanted to do tomorrow. I would love to see what you came up with.” You told Reed after breaking the kiss.
Reed smiled down at you. “Whatever you say, darling.”
You patted Reed’s cheek affectionately before sighing. “Are you gonna pull out of me now?”
“I’ll think about it.” Reed mused, making you huff out a laugh before he claimed your lips with his again.
It was safe to say, he loved you all night long.
*****
Author’s note:
Hi! This has been in my drafts for MONTHS, I can’t believe I actually managed to finish this with a somewhat proper ending
MCU Reed is literally one of my favourite characters and it has been a blast figuring out how to write him and his character more romantically
I can’t believe this is only my second Reed fic that I’ve put out! I feel like I should have been writing more but I’ll get to it once my brain can think of something teehee :p
giving him head and looking up at him with big, soft eyes and he throws his head back in pleasure but also because he’ll cum right then and there if he stares at you for too long
I’d like to conduct an experiment with dr. richards which involves a hair tie, heavy eye contact and the pants of his cute jammies around his ankles for purely scientific reasons
@simpingforjoel I’d love to participate in this experiment!🫠 And what about Javi Gutierrez? Maybe he’s sitting on the couch? Legs open to give enough space to fit? One hand covers his eyes while the other caresses his lady’s neck, just following the movement of her head... groaning… trying his best… his whole body shaking… until his gaze lowers done one more time, crossing paths with hers… the eye contact is heated… the intimacy is loud and powerful… and he’s done😮💨😮💨
Joel Miller can be added to this list… he tries to stay calm, still, letting you take him the way that you want to. But then it gets a little too good. His fingers grip your hair and he can’t help but move his hips just slightly. And then he looks down. It’s too much. He throbs more than he’d like to and has to look away quickly. The sounds you’re making, the way your eyes water as you look up at him. He doesn’t want to finish, but he can’t help it. His groans fill the room despite his best efforts to hold it all in.
Summary: Joel sees your baby bump for the first time.
Warnings: 18+. Unprotected piv. Breeding/Impreg Kink. Hurt/Comfort (mostly comfort). Mention of insecurities related to changes in Reader’s body from pregnancy (!!) Praise kink. Creampie. Girthy but unspecified age gap. Nothing bad happens to Joel Miller. He lives to 103 :)
Word count: 4.9k
Prequel | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
It had been a long week.
The one before that had seemed even longer. Joel Miller spent every night of it curled up on too-cold hardwood floors in remote cabins or in guard towers, on duty. He would’ve given anything to be someplace else, but as it stood, Jackson was on high alert for hordes of Infected. That meant he had had to contribute his fair share and go on extended patrol, no matter how loudly every last ligament, muscle, and bone in his old body protested.
Evidently, there was a dearth of strong and gun-savvy folks in town. No exceptions could be carved out for anyone among them—not even expecting fathers.
Today, Joel stood in a greenhouse, running off two hours of sleep. He’d made it back home that morning, but before he’d even slid off his boots you’d told him you were headed to the farmer’s market and you wouldn’t be gone more than twenty minutes at most, just stay here and get some sleep while I’m out, OK? Joel had refused.
“Already spent too much damn time away from you two,” he’d said grumpily, pressing a kiss to your temple before ushering you out the door. He caught you smile at that.
By ‘you two,’ Joel hadn’t needed to gesture to your belly and the life growing within it to explain what he meant. You both knew it—had been aware of this little world-altering development for weeks now—but no matter how much time had passed, neither one of you seemed quite capable of saying the words without a glance or a grin.
“Me and baby did just fine on our own these last nights,” you’d assured him teasingly as you walked along then. “In fact, I think he was glad not to hear all your snoring.”
Joel had almost chuckled through his latest yawn.
“Yeah? She tell you that herself while I was gone?”
He was convinced the baby was a girl.
You swore you were having a boy.
As Joel leaned against a display of sun-dried tomatoes and yawned extra big again, he decided it didn’t matter one bit what the gender was going to be. He just wanted to meet the kid. He hated that he would have to wait another six months to see their face and pinch their pudgy cheeks between his fingers, but that was a minuscule price to pay for what was to come in time.
Tiny feet. Bright eyes. Beaming, toothless smiles. Greedy hands that would no doubt be yanking at his silver hairs all hours of the day. He just hoped they’d take after y—
“Joel?”
Your eyes flickered to him in question. He hadn’t heard it.
“What’s’at, sweetheart?”
You furrowed your brows.
“I’m blanking on what Maria asked us to buy. Zucchini?”
Joel had no fucking idea.
A sea of fruits and vegetables lay out before him like a technicolor dream; he was so sleep-deprived it almost seemed surreal to see so much vibrancy at once, and he had to blink a couple of times to get his vision to adjust.
Then he was looking back at you. You were frowning.
“Baby, we can go home. You’re about to pass out.”
And Joel knew you meant it—despite only being at the market in town a grand total of five minutes, he knew you’d be willing to leave in a heartbeat if it meant giving him a moment’s worth of rest. It had been his own doing in bringing his drained, deadened, stubborn body here.
“I’m fine. Really, I’m good. You said, uh…cucumbers?”
“Zucchini.” You fended off his taut forced smile with a warning look of you own, as if to say: ‘You suck at lying.’
That look remained on him for a while and was only marginally diminished by a kiss he dropped on your forehead, followed by a promise to sleep the rest of the day. He didn’t like seeing you put off in the slightest, but if it meant getting to spend an extra half hour with you and Junior, Joel decided he was willing to bend the rules.
Fortunately, your scowl was even more short-lived than expected. The next second had you turning and, seeing something in a small wooden crate across the way, glowing with a bright, eager look. You walked over.
“Look—our baby!” you cried, peering into the box.
Joel was puzzled, but then you turned again and were suddenly holding a lemon up to your stomach, grinning.
“At thirteen weeks, the baby’s about the size of this.”
You balanced the thing proudly in your palm, just over your navel, and flashed him an irresistibly sweet smile. Joel smiled back, and was right about to squeeze the little fruit and tell you he couldn’t believe this kid was growing so fast, when a new voice cut in. It was some neighbor of yours. You turned to greet her, scarcely had a second to get through ‘hello’ before talks of an upcoming potluck were entered into, and before Joel knew it, he’d lost the opportunity to marvel your fruit fetus. He felt unusually dismayed at that but blamed it on burnout.
Why did he feel like he’d missed so much already?
It wasn’t like he could change the fact that this world you inhabited was overrun with the living undead, and he had to help defend this community against them, but still.
Joel was just about to yawn again and rub his bleary eyes when his gaze meandered somewhere else.
His yawn caught in his throat as soon as he saw it, and like before, he had to blink several times to clear the sight in front of him. This time, though, it wasn’t total exhaustion which clouded his vision—it was something more, snagged in his periphery at first, only to gain his full attention an instant later. Joel’s chest tightened.
Surely it wasn’t fatigue alone making him see this.
You’d tilted your body from him a little more while talking to your friend, and in your profile, Joel could make out an unfamiliar shape in your ensemble that he hadn’t noticed when you were holding the lemon: just under the swell of your breasts, beneath the apricot-colored material of your dress, he could see the faintest outline of a bump.
Joel stared harder, half-expecting that picture to fade like a mirage. He couldn’t believe the sight before him.
He’d seen you in fits and bursts over the last two weeks—he worked double shifts on patrol, so you were often asleep when he was home, and there were all the times he was forced to sleep at one of the far outposts, but no.
No.
Joel wouldn’t have missed something like that.
He couldn’t have missed the first glimpse of your growing belly when he’d gotten so…fixated on you, this baby, the thoughts of your future together as a family.
No, he shouldn’t have missed that. A good dad wouldn’t.
Hell, even a halfway decent father-to-be wouldn’t have not noticed the growth of his own child inside you. That seemed so rudimentary—how the fuck had he missed it?
Suddenly, a coil was forming in his stomach. Unlike the one in yours, it wasn’t a child but a pit of guilt growing there. He felt his legs weaken underneath him, and he swallowed dryly. He cleared his throat. He tried to cast a sideways look at you, maybe try and urge you to get on with this neighborly conversation and be done with it, but who was he to say anything now? Joel slumped against a table full of leafy greens and tried not to sulk.
He blinked and five minutes had passed, at least. His head was swimming with thoughts of shame and remorse, wanting to kick himself for agreeing to pick up shifts for his brother last week, and feeling like he’d failed you and your baby already—and they weren’t even born.
He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand on his shoulder again. Two bloodshot eyes darted to the left.
“Joel,” you said, softly. Your voice was full of sympathy.
The man couldn’t bear to hear it. He didn’t deserve it.
In fact, he felt so down on himself and dead tired now that he couldn’t muster up the strength to speak when you nudged him back onto his feet. You walked beside him with a basket that now contained three zucchini, two bulbs of garlic, a lemon, and a dozen other food items that he couldn’t place at the moment. Joel had no idea what you’d be cooking tonight, but he couldn’t help but wince at the sight of that tiny yellow fruit in front of him.
You knew this would be a long day.
Joel never slept well after those week-long stints going back and forth between patrol and home, and ever since taking Tommy’s as well while he was out sick, the man before you was drained of all his energy. Dead, almost.
Okay, maybe ‘dead’ was an overstatement.
Joel was very much alive; his body just sagged, his head lolled forward where he stood, and he refused to sleep.
It made no sense to you. It was like the longer he’d been awake, away from you, the more adamant he became that he couldn’t spare a minute while he was home dozing off. When you’d dragged his hulking body up the stairs to your bedroom, he shook his head in protest.
“I— I missed seeing her,” he mumbled dejectedly. Resisting your efforts to push him onto the bed.
“I know. You can talk as much as you’d like after you get some rest, OK? We’ll be right downstairs in the kitchen.”
That didn’t seem to appease Joel at all. If anything, he made an effort to shake his head harder and seemed ready to follow you back downstairs to help you cook.
You weren’t having any of that, so you nudged him back.
“Joel—”
“No, I missed it, honey. I missed it.”
He was talking nonsense now, surely.
“What do you mean? Missed what, Joel?”
With a deflated sort of sound, he collapsed on the bed behind him. Joel steadied himself wearily, blinking more.
Seeming as if he wanted to meet your gaze but couldn’t.
Then, to your surprise, he slid off of the bed and sank to the floor, on his knees. He shuffled closer to where you stood, and then slowly, sheepishly, peered up at you.
“I missed seeing this,” he clarified quietly.
And two hard, muscly arms wrapped around your lower half from where he kneeled. Joel’s face was mere inches from the fabric of your dress—where it flared the slightest bit out front and almost prodded at his nose.
Your little bump was protruding under your clothes now. It couldn’t be helped, no matter how loose of winter attire you wore, and you felt guilty that, at first, you hadn’t liked how it looked. Wasn’t motherhood supposed to be some exquisite, transcendent experience wherein every waking moment had you cherishing what your body did for you, like sustaining a brand new life? You’d felt awful.
So terrible, in fact, that you hadn’t even thought to mention the development to Joel, which somehow made things even worse. You just wanted to wrap up and hide, for no other reason than that you felt so self-conscious.
Now here Joel was, pressing his face to the little bulge in your frame and peering up at you with the widest, most glass-like pair of eyes you’d seen in a long time. He was watching you like he was riddled with guilt himself, oddly
You couldn’t imagine what the shame might be for.
“What are you talking about? You didn’t miss anything,” you said softly, lowering your voice to just a murmur.
Joel winced as if you’d just reared back and struck him.
“I did,” he whispered back, tone hoarse. Then, somehow, his next words came out even more broken. “I was gone so long I— I didn’t even notice you had a bump already.”
He sounded so despondent as he said it—like he’d missed some great milestone in your pregnancy and not an event that you’d actually wanted to keep out of sight.
Your heart ached in your chest. You hated seeing this.
You wanted to join him on the floor and hold him tight, tell him he hadn’t missed one single thing, but Joel’s grip around your hips was far too much to move an inch. So you remained standing instead and stroked his hair.
“What, this?” you said, gesturing toward the swell of your belly against his face. Forcing a smile when you felt guilt flood your insides. “It’s…it’s just a little bump, Joel, it’s—”
Joel drew back momentarily to meet you, eyes serious.
“It’s our baby,” he resumed, tone all soft solemnity.
That made the shame balloon in your chest.
You should’ve told him. Shown him.
But no, you’d been too afraid of what he might think of your changing body. You’d kept the news to yourself and let things go on as if nothing had happened at all. At the time, you told yourself you were doing it in Joel’s best interest—letting him rest and not spend too much time off-duty worrying about you. You’d played tougher than you really were and ended up causing the man pain over missing a moment like this. Your bottom lip trembled as you pulled him in closer to you. You hugged him to you.
“I— I’m sorry,” you croaked. You touched his head gently.
You’d just threaded your fingers through the soft, grey hair at the back of Joel’s head when he tilted his whole face back up to you. His chin hovered above your bump, and his eyes were shining up at you. Shortly, he frowned.
“Sorry for what, sweetheart? You didn’t—”
“I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want you to see.”
You blurted it out before you could think.
Joel was watching you so intently—tenderly—with his face so close to that spot you’d been trying to hide away. His look was open and sincere, and you felt like shit, so you just kept rambling on to clear your conscience of it.
“Ever since I saw the bump myself, I…I just…” you trailed off, feeling dumb as soon as the words started tumbling. “I didn’t like the way I looked. I wanted to keep it from you, because I was…scared of what you might think.”
And here he was, on his knees from how bad he felt.
His grip loosened, like he was processing things.
You found yourself lowering to the floor, too. You couldn’t help it. Your eyes began filling with hot, wet, hormone-induced tears like you’d been experiencing a lot of these last few weeks, and you hugged Joel again. You winced.
“I didn’t think it would mean so much to you, Joel. If I had known…If I knew it would hurt you not to know…”
Your wince became a full grimace—an ugly kind of cry that you’d long chastised yourself for doing—and you pulled back. You placed your palms over your eyes to hide your shame, but a couple stray tears leaked out.
Before you knew it, there were arms around you again. Big and muscly and warm, not hugging, but lifting you.
“Joel,” you sobbed into his neck. “I’m so sorry.”
You expected the father of your child to respond in words, but instead, at first, he just sat down on the bed with you in his hold. He let you rest your head on his chest, and for several long moments, he rocked you.
He held you, and you cried, and one of your hands came to fist the warm flannel of his shirt for sometime before you realized that Joel’s own palm was stroking your hair. Caressing it. Then, slowly, moving so he could thumb at the tears sliding down your cheeks, and holding you as close to his body as possible. Because of this, your ear was pressed flush against his chest, and you heard him.
Joel’s heart was hammering, and his breaths were quick.
You lifted your head, and as soon as you did, you were greeted with the sight of Joel peering down, face no more than a few inches away. Eyes soft and glossy.
“Joel, I’m so sorr—”
“You don’t,” Joel cut in, words still impossibly tender. “Don’t gotta apologize for nothin’, baby. Not one thing.”
You searched his face and saw exhaustion in every feature—there was no hiding that. Not just in the weeks but in the years he’d spent living in this world, fighting to survive and having all the scars and striations and thick, shining grays to prove it. You took stock of every sunspot and wrinkle, seeing a softness there that no pain had stolen, and found yourself all the more in love with this man. Your old man, the one who’d put this baby in you.
Without thinking, you reached for the hem of your dress.
You couldn’t get to it, as the skirt was long, and the material was splayed out all over Joel and the bed, but you were still able to bunch the fabric in your hands.
Tug it gently, but resolutely, up your legs. Near your hips.
Then over them. Suddenly sitting at your ribs, while your eyes stayed locked on Joel’s. The air felt a bit cooler now.
The house that you shared was always warm in winter. Now, with your stomach bared and your hand sliding at a snail’s pace up your front with Joel’s fingers clasped in it, you’d never felt a chill so biting in your life. Or frightening
Joel’s touch brushed the little bump above your pantyline, and instantly, you wanted to squirm. You hated how you felt that way, but it also couldn’t be helped. Your belly never protruded like this before, and you were still getting used to it—it would take time.
Joel hadn’t seen it even once before today.
Although he touched your body nonstop, with his focus centering a lot more on your tummy these days, he’d never actually gotten to feel the proof of his child growing inside you until now. You were showing.
Your belly was swollen beneath his hand and heaving lightly with every breath you took. You looked up at Joel.
And for once, he wasn’t looking back. He was looking at you, but his gaze this time was plastered to your lower half, where his palm was gradually moving to rest atop that tiny bump. He splayed his fingers. Yours sat timidly above his, and you wondered if you might not move back
Then you felt wetness on your hand. It was an odd, foreign feeling at first; you had no idea where those little droplets came from, but in a second, it dawned on you.
Joel’s head was bowed, and he was blinking hard.
The moisture was from his tears dripping down.
Your body almost caved with the realization. Your fingers tightened around the back of Joel’s hand, and presently, your voice was as hoarse as it had ever been as you shifted to sit up. Trying not to cry anymore yourself.
“Joel, don’t—don’t, no. This is my fault.”
“It’s my fault. I haven’t been here.”
And just hearing those words leave Joel’s mouth seemed ludicrous to you. He’d been there every step of the way to date, rubbing your back through the worst bouts of your morning sickness, spoon-feeding you on days you found it difficult to move a muscle, stroking your cheek and speaking soft words of consolation—he was there.
And here he was, meeting your gaze with bleary, bloodshot eyes as he blinked through his tears.
You couldn’t bear to see it.
You scrambled up from Joel’s lap and hugged him—no, attacked him with an embrace that knocked him flat on his back on the bed. Your arms wound around his neck, and your stomach brushed against his softer one. If it weren’t several weeks premature, you might’ve thought you felt some movement inside you. You squeezed your old man even tighter then and started shaking your head
“Oh, Joel…”
You pressed your body to his, hoping he’d feel your sincerity, if not the heat and the swell of your belly, thanks to what he’d done inside you. Now, more than anything else, you wanted to show him what he’d made happen—what you were so happy to feel every day, despite your insecurities and fears about some parts.
You wanted him to know how much you loved him.
“You’ve been here,” you assured him softly. Lifting slightly so you could lie on top with your front to his. “You always have and you always will. You hear me?”
Joel swallowed as soon as your lips attached to his neck and started peppering kisses to tufts of black and silver.
Gently, he reached around your back to hold you to him. His arms had just constricted in a protective grip around the base of your spine when you wriggled out. You sat up
You unzipped your dress and shifted on your knees to pull it off you completely. You tossed it and took a breath.
Now you were naked, save for your pale cotton panties, and sitting there. Straddling him. Soft rays of morning light filtered in through the window, and for a beat, you hoped the shadows it cast on your body didn’t make you look…odd, or undesirable to the man lying beneath you.
Fortunately, that fear was dispelled as soon as it arrived.
Joel’s gaze melted at the sight, and he swallowed again.
Wiping his eyes with one hand and beckoning with the other, he said, soft as anything: “Sweet pea, I love you.”
“I love you more.” You were fumbling to get your panties off—not even with sex in mind, but just so that Joel could see more of you. All of you. You wanted him to be able to drink in every inch now, like he couldn’t before.
You wanted to be naked with him, like you’d been when you made this baby together. It didn’t have to be anything more than pure and simple appreciation.
Though when you fumbled with the bottom buttons of Joel’s flannel and murmured, ‘Take yours off, too, please,’ you couldn’t deny that it had an edge of something else, as well. That was only natural.
Within seconds, Joel was stripped of his clothes, and his body was on display, the same as yours. You could stare at him, he could stare at you, and together, you could cherish the knowledge that these bodies made a third. There was a new one growing inside of you, day by day, and now you could see the proof as well as you’d felt it.
For once, Joel hardened, and it didn’t feel like just lust or love or arousal at the sight of your nude body, but a primal urge. When your folds dripped and glistened in turn, it wasn’t merely a product of wanting but of acknowledging what had already been done here.
This big man, this stiff and graying man, this kind man had put his seed inside you more times than you could count, and one of those moments had made him stick.
Stuck as he was, claimed as you felt, you were happy.
At last, one of your hands came to rest over your belly in a sweet, appreciative, and loving way, and you rubbed it.
It might’ve been the first time you’d done it.
That was definitely a first for Joel.
His hand immediately joined.
“You put a baby in me.” You said it gently.
“I put a baby in you,” Joel repeated.
In a breath, it was affectionate. In the next, it was protective. In the one after that, you felt his cock pushing inside you, but it hardly felt that way at all sitting on him.
It was sex, though. You rolled your hips and took him to the base. Joel’s hand stayed on your belly, trailing each movement with a look of awe. And strain. His smooth, bulbous tip grazed somewhere deep within your body, and your walls contracted around him. Sucked him in.
“Right there.” His fingers flexed over where his cock was currently stretching you out from the inside, and you whimpered softly. “Ain’t that where I stuffed you full?”
“Yes,” you breathed, free hand anchoring on his chest.
Joel fucked up into you gently, and damn, this was even better in the second trimester than the first. Your body was more responsive. Your slick warmth drew him in.
Every nerve-ending in your system seemed attuned to the one man who’d made himself a part of you, like he was made to be exactly where he was, and no place else.
“My sweet girl let daddy make her a mama, huh?”
It didn’t feel like fucking and still, you were a minute from coming. Joel’s words, paired with a hand on your swollen belly and the soft, pleasuring cadence of his thrusts made you helpless to the sensation. You looked down.
And for once, you relished the sight below. You loved it—Joel’s hand over your belly, his cock splitting you in two.
“Y’like how it looks? Me in you?” Joel chuckled. Behind it, you could sense that he was getting close too, though.
His thrusts sped up, and you bounced to meet them, a smile spreading across your lips once you found his gaze.
“Yes, daddy.”
“Know how goddamn pretty ya look swole up with me?”
“Yes, daddy.”
Your voice was sweet. Supplicating. Sincere.
It wasn’t as if your fears and insecurities all vanished the moment Joel told you you were pretty, or when he said that you had no need to be sorry. That would have to come with time—but the praise certainly helped. His words spoken so tenderly to you then had an effect.
You wanted to believe all these things, and the closer you got to climax, the more readily you shed your inhibitions. Your hips started gyrating with more force, and you no longer gave a shit whether your body looked so different.
For now, at least, you’d just have to accept that growing Joel Miller’s child inside you meant many things would change. There was no escaping it. What mattered now was your health, being together with Joel, and knowing how much he loved you, no matter what might happen.
And that much was clear from the way he eyed you suddenly—needily—and how the fingers splayed across your front migrated down your stomach, over your bump, and between where your body and his were joined. He always made sure you were taken care of, and of course, that concern extended virtually everywhere.
A series of quick, deliberate circles on your clit and his cock hitting you repeatedly in your most sensitive spot made you see stars. Your eyes were tempted to roll back in pure bliss, preparing for your orgasm to hit, when Joel snagged your attention back. He pulled you in until your chest was practically parallel with his, and then he drilled you from below. His mouth moved dangerously close to your ear, and from there, it was apparent he had plans.
Pushing you closer and closer to the edge with every thrust, he spoke gently. He made sure you heard, though
“Y’like the way this feels now, don’t ya, sweet pea?”
In response, your words were more like a babble.
Still, you somehow managed to whine a ‘yes.’
And that was all Joel needed, apparently.
He leaned in even nearer, murmuring:
“Good.”
Good?
You were seconds from release. One hand was fisting the sheets now, your body moving in frantic tandem with Joel’s, and all at once, he was lifting your head. Tilting it sideways to meet his own while he fucked you relentlessly from below. He was beaming.
“Better get used to how it feels, ‘cause I’m keepin’ this belly full as long as you’ll let me keep on givin’ it babies.”
Fucking hell.
Your stomach clenched as if to say yes again, your brain went blank, and all you could think while you came on his cock was how much you loved him back—no matter how wary you were about these changes, how unwise making a man change diapers all throughout his sixties might seem, you’d give him as many babies as he wanted.
You might change your mind.
You might not.
But by the look on Joel’s face as he finished and flooded your insides with all his hot, sticky seed, you wanted to believe you would. One baby or a hundred, you’d give just about any number a shot with your old man, Joel Miller. You let him fuck you and fill you to the brim, and when it felt like he couldn’t go any deeper, or give you any more of this release, Joel pulled you in for a kiss.
Against his lips, muted between soft, sloppy movements, you managed to get out quietly:
“Whatever daddy wants.”
And when you’d finally pulled apart and were eye-to-eye again—after everything you’d been through today and these last couple weeks, these past few months—you couldn’t help it. A grin broke out on Joel’s face at the same moment it did yours. You both breathed heavily and felt your belly pressed against his. You were reminded, once more, of what brought you here and all you had to look forward to in the next months and years.
It would be hard, but well worth it with Joel by your side.
Gently, you nudged his nose with yours.
“I love you so much, Joel,” you whispered.
“I love you more, sweet pea,” he whispered back. Smiling
THE OVULATION DEMONS SCREECHING AND HOWLING!!! this tender and insatiable peepaw baby daddy joel rewired my brain!! if I had my way old man would be changing diapers of his very own bunch of miller brats well into his sixties!! 🫠😮💨❤️🔥
Chapter Summary: Rhea or Rose? Or both? Were you really reincarnated? The questions are confusing, the answers are unclear, the doubt is painful. It felt like a third presence lingered between you and Marcus…or maybe it was your incarnation?
Chapter W. Count and warnings: 15k (sorry not sorry; SMUT (+18) IT'S HAPPENING!, unprotected sex (don't do that!), shameless smut, oral sex, fingering, breast play, multiple orgasms, kissing, mention about death, rom-com, falling in love, fluffy, lying, sharing a room, mention about reincarnation, praising kink, sharing a bed, ancient latin language
authors note: The reincarnation mentioned here is based on ancient Roman beliefs, and more information will be provided in future episodes.Spondeo: promising, ‘I promise.’ Viduus: Viduus is the god said to separate the soul and body at death.
Gaudium vitae meae: joy of my life
my masterlist
Marcus had whispered that name before—right before he slipped away, arrows piercing his body in your arms. You had felt a shiver then, just as you were feeling now. But this moment was entirely different.
Time seemed to flow in a way you couldn’t quite grasp.
Why was that?
Gazing into his warm brown eyes, his hands cradling yours as he said, “You are my Rhea,” you felt as if you had stepped into another world, if only for an instant.
The name rang out in your ears several times—brief, yet it felt achingly real.
“Rhea, where you’ve been?” a woman’s voice inquired, warm and kind, though accompanied by a hint of concern. It was a tone that was unfamiliar to you.
“Rhea, it is imperative that you fulfill this duty. You have obligations to Rome; it relies on your commitment. Do not disappoint me,” stated a deep, authoritative masculine voice, which was also unfamiliar.
And then, countless other voices began to call your name, an overwhelming chorus that sent your mind into a spiral.
But then, amidst the chaos, there was that voice...
“Rhea, you are my Rome. Nothing else matters to me, my love.” This was Marcus’s voice, but it sounded different—softer, more tender... younger.
The way he said that name set your heart racing.
It was only then that you realized Marcus was gently shaking you, concern etched across his face. You suddenly felt the familiar surroundings of your room wrap around you, as if you had taken a fleeting mental journey in mere seconds.
What was happening?
You felt lost, struggling to comprehend it all.
“Rosa? Please, say something, anything.”
Rosa...
Rose...
That was your name.
You were this person, in this moment. But who was that other one? Why had those voices haunted you?
It all felt too overwhelming, crushing down on you like a heavy weight, leaving you frozen in place.
Suddenly, you became aware of your chest heaving as you gasped for air. Dizziness swirled around you; if Marcus hadn't cupped your face in his hands, you might have collapsed.
“Rosa? Please, are you well? What’s wrong?”
You swallowed, trying to moisten your dry throat, and managed to whisper, “Anxiety... Attack. M-medicine.”
Marcus understood right away; it was the same medicine you had taken before, one he had seen you use many times. “Where? Is it in your bag?”
He reached for your bag hanging on the chair while still holding your hand, but at that moment, darkness closed in, and you lost consciousness, falling back. Fortunately, he was quick enough to catch you, pulling you into his arms just in time.
The smell hit you first—pungent, overpowering, and distinctly medical. Ah, that unmistakable scent of a hospital.
As you blinked your eyes open, the bright white light overhead and the IV bottle and tube confirmed it: you were in the emergency room. Hospital beds surrounded you, and there stood a nurse, leaning over with a look of concern.
“Are you okay, ma’am? Are you awake?” she asked gently.
“Was it all just a dream?” you muttered, still disoriented.
The nurse furrowed her brow. “Pardon?”
“You know how it is in movies—you wake up and everything that happened was just a dream,” you giggled uncontrollably.
“Rose?”
“Rosa, are you alright?”
Turning to your right, you saw your sister Lizzie, and beside her... Marcus.
No, this wasn’t a dream.
The moment you noticed him, anger flared up within you.
Just then, the supermodel doctor from your last visit entered the room. “How is our patient?” she asked, her heavily made-up face scrutinizing you.
“How am I?” you snapped back, laughter turning into disbelief. “How do you think I am? I’m in a hospital bed!” Your gaze shifted to Marcus. “This man—because of him, nothing good has happened to me. I hadn’t seen a doctor in three years, never stepped foot in a police station until he came along. Every day is a trip to the hospital, every day is a run-in with the cops. One morning, I wake up in ancient Rome; the next morning, it’s 2025 Rome, and there’s another man in my room! Because of him, I lost my job, he forced me to marry him supposedly for my protection, and just when I finally started to come around to him, the Praetorians shot him with an arrow and killed him! I saved his life, but somehow, I’m the one to blame. I thought he had changed; I thought he felt something for me. Now he’s saying there’s someone else in his heart and that I’m her reincarnation! What the hell do you want from me, Marcus?”
The nurses and the doctor exchanged glances, rolling their eyes as they listened to your rapid-fire rant. Lizzie blinked in disbelief, while Marcus seemed taken aback by your whirlwind of words.
“Should we check for a head injury, doctor?” the nurse asked with a hint of sarcasm, eyeing you as if you were a bit off-kilter.
The doctor sighed. “No, this is her normal state. She was weird last time too, probably still high on sedatives,” she remarked, looking at you with a mixture of amusement and annoyance.
“She mentioned a head injury before, but the results were normal,” Lizzie added.
“Your sister is fine. You can go home once the IV is finished,” the doctor said, turning her attention to Marcus. “I wish you luck with your wife, sir,” she said before exiting the room, followed by the nurse stifling a laugh.
Marcus furrowed his brow at her implication and stepped closer to you.
“Are you truly well?”
“I think she’s lost it enough to mix up movie scripts with real life,” Lizzie said dryly.
You propped yourself up in bed, but the sudden movement made the IV tube pinch your hand. “I’m fine,” you murmured.
Before you knew it, your eyelids grew heavy again from the medication, and you drifted off to sleep. When the IV finally finished and the doctor checked on you one last time, she cleared you to leave. The tranquilizer still lingered in your system, making it hard to stay awake in the taxi as you avoided Marcus's gaze. You weren't prepared to confront the reality of his words or the haunting echoes that filled your mind.
All that you had been through recently felt like a heavy burden; perhaps this was just your body’s way of coping. Lizzie didn’t ask more questions—that was one of your favorite things about her. She had an uncanny ability to sense your mood and adjust accordingly.
Marcus didn’t take his eyes off you the entire ride home. He carried you from the taxi, through the entrance of the apartment building, and gently laid you in your bed. Lizzie paused at the sight of the bed on the floor, the one you had made for Marcus, and a cloud of suspicion enveloped her.
Lizzie stood in the doorway, watching as Marcus tucked the bedcover around you. She called out softly, “Marcus?”
He turned to her.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Lizzie asked, her voice steady yet friendly.
He nodded, and Lizzie headed into the living room while he took one last glance at you before closing the door to your room and following her inside. As Marcus entered the living room, Lizzie shot him a look, motioning for him to sit down.
“Listen, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you clearly don’t know my sister well enough yet,” Lizzie began. “You got married in a rush, and I still can't figure out why she did it, but it seems she truly loves you. Trust me, I’d understand if she didn’t.”
Marcus managed a weak smile.
“I can tell you love her too, even though I don’t know you all that well.”
“Very much so, Elizabeth,” he replied softly, referring to her by her name. “I love your sister, Rosa, with all my heart.”
“She can be a bit of a handful. She's too much talkative, makes snap decisions, and can be difficult at times. But at her core, she’s kind. Things changed for her after we lost our parents in that accident. She took on all the responsibility at such a young age—I was barely a child. She became both a mother and a father to me, working tirelessly to care for both of us. She's also really so stubborn, like, she wouldn't even take help from our aunt. That's a whole other story she’ll fill you in on later. But it’s been tough. She's been on anxiety medication since then, and whenever she gets really upset, it can trigger a crisis. She still takes them occasionally.”
As Marcus listened, his heart ached at the realization of what you had silently endured all this time. He felt the weight of responsibility for the turmoil you faced and never imagined it would be this difficult for you.
“Marcus, please don’t leave my sister. If she married you, it means she really loves and cares for you. After Nicolo, she lost faith in men and in people in general. But she chose to trust you, and that's a big deal. You seem like a decent guy, even if you’re a bit odd. So whatever it is you’re facing, don't walk away from her. If you do, I can’t even imagine how she’d cope, and I won’t be able to lift her up this time. Do you get it?”
Marcus nodded, deeply moved by Lizzie's words. “I promise you, Elizabeth, I’ll never leave Rosa. I live for her, and I’ve done so for a long time. From now on, I’ll do everything I can to make her happy.”
Lizzie raised her eyebrows; his words struck her as incredibly sincere, almost like a solemn promise. “Um, I hope that’s true. And I really hope you can work through whatever’s wrong between you,” she murmured, standing up and remembering the bed on the floor, though she chose not to dwell on it.“Good night,” she said with a smile as she made her way to her room, leaving Marcus in the living room, wrapped up in his thoughts and emotions.
When he returned to your room, he moved closer to the bed. His gaze lingered on your features, as if he were imprinting your face in his memory. Carefully, he sat down beside you and lay next to you, letting his hand softly glide through your hair, which was tousled from the pillow.
“Mi aeterne amor. As if you hadn't faced enough suffering in your past life, pain seems to have found you again in this one,” he whispered to himself. “But as long as you allow me to remain by your side, I won’t let you endure any more pain, spondeo (I promise).” He leaned a little closer, inhaling the soft scent of your hair while watching you sleep until exhaustion took over, his head resting on the pillow beside you as he closed his eyes.
The first thing that greeted you in the morning was the sweet sound of birdsong. As you slowly woke up, you realized you had slept exceptionally well. Perhaps it was the tranquilizer, who knows? Looking back, you recalled that you rarely managed such deep sleep without medication. Just how long had you been sleeping like this? Before opening your eyes, you scoured your memory. The initial thought that crossed your mind was that lovely morning when you awoke feeling truly refreshed—was it in Marcus' bed?
Strangely enough, despite all the nights spent in the villa and in ancient Rome, you had always had trouble falling asleep. But in Marcus' room—even including that night at Claudia's villa—you always woke up to the peaceful embrace of morning light. Yes, all those tranquil mornings were spent in his room, in his bed. Was it possible that the reason you woke up so peacefully in your own room, where you usually jolted awake to the sound of an alarm, was because of his presence?
Could that really be true?
Suddenly, you opened your eyes to a soft sound nearby. It was someone’s breath, close enough for you to feel the warmth on your cheeks.
Your heart raced as you noticed Marcus’ face just inches away from yours. Had he slept beside you?
A smile crept onto your face as you studied his exquisite features. He was undeniably handsome; the more you gazed, the more you felt captivated. His long eyelashes, the contour of his forehead, the fullness of his lips, the dark and silver streaks woven into his beard, and that perfectly shaped nose —even the scar on his cheekbone— made him look like a real-life version of those ancient Greek and Roman statues in museums.
And yeah, he really was here in the flesh.
Perfect.
You swallowed hard and instinctively sat up, resting on your elbow. The urge to kiss him was overwhelming.
But then, your thoughts drifted back to the previous night. You remembered your heartfelt confession, the kiss you shared, and everything he had said afterward. Yes, everything—including your words in the hospital.
Damn it.
You couldn't help but feel your jaw drop at the memory.
As you swung your legs out of bed, you noticed his arm draped around you.
Oh no.
Trying to slip away without waking him, you gently lifted his arm and bit your lip, willing yourself to move. “Come on, Rose, just a bit further,” you whispered to yourself as you edged towards the edge of the bed.
But the moment you attempted to slide out from under the covers, Marcus stirred, his hand finding your leg and pulling you back towards him. He lifted the covers, and you couldn't help but struggle beneath it. He snickered, a low, teasing sound that sent shivers down your spine. Frustrated, you pulled the covers over your face, attempting once more to make your escape, but to no avail.
“You feeling better now?” he asked, concern evident in his eyes as they rested on your face.
“Let go, Marcus,” you replied through gritted teeth, still fighting against his hold.
“Why are you hiding your face?” he queried, gently pulling the covers down again.
"I’m not hiding my face; I just don’t want to look at you. Two completely different things," you retorted, avoiding his gaze.
"Is it?" He frowned and pressed further. "You don’t want to look at my face. Why?"
You let out a big sigh and leaned back on the bed. "I’m so embarrassed, alright?"
Marcus laughed quietly and ran his fingers through your hair. "There’s really no reason to feel that way, Rosa," His smile kind of rubbed you the wrong way.
Crap.
Determined, you tried again, sliding your leg to escape and finally standing up with your back to him. "Let’s forget about last night," you insisted.
Marcus jumped out of bed, grasped your arm, and turned you toward him. The abruptness took your breath away, and your eyes widened as you met his intense gaze. “How could I? I won’t let that happen,” he replied firmly. Then his expression softened. "Is it because of what I shared with you? I had to be truthful. I never meant to hurt you."
"But that’s exactly what you did, Marcus. I told you I loved you, and you…" Your voice faltered, struggling to articulate what you felt, fearing your words would sound ridiculous.
Storming into the closet, you grabbed your sports leggings and a tank top, then headed for the bathroom.
"Rosa, can we please talk?" he pleaded, following you until you slammed the bathroom door in his face.
"I can’t hear you," you called from behind the door. "I don’t want to talk."
Even after getting dressed, Marcus was still there, waiting. "Please, Rosa."
He shadowed you as you slipped on your shoes, but you chose to ignore him.
"Are you leaving?" he asked, a hint of concern in his voice.
"I'm going for a walk," you replied, tying the laces firmly. "By myself," you added after standing up.
"I can’t leave you alone, Rosa," he said, putting his own shoes but clearly struggling with his laces.
"I will be fine on my own, Marcus," you insisted, and before he could respond, you slammed the door behind you.
You turned around as you left the apartment, noticing Marcus trying to catch up. Enzo, the owner of the restaurant below, greeted you with a warm smile. “Good morning, Rose. Out for a morning walk, I see?”
You returned his smile and continued up the steps, while Enzo looked at Marcus with a wider smile. "Oh, look who’s here—our hero, Marcus! I knew you were a good man from the moment I met you. I'm so glad you married Rose,” he said, shaking Marcus's hand.
“Thank you, Enzo,” Marcus replied, his gaze fixed on your increasingly distant figure. After saying goodbye to Enzo, he hurried to catch up to you.
“Oh, like a puppy, he’s following me,” you muttered as you glanced back and spotted him trailing behind.
While keeping a reasonable distance, Marcus couldn't help but stare at around in awe until you reached the Tiber River. Everything he once knew had transformed, and he struggled to adjust. He paused, taking in the sight of Ponte Rotto, now appearing like a distant ruin. When you looked back, you noticed the sadness on his face, and a sense of concern washed over you. If you kept walking without stopping, you feared he might lose his way back to the apartment. Suddenly, you felt a wave of responsibility; it was clear he needed you.
Witnessing ancient Rome, you could imagine how he felt. Yes, some structures had endured, their silhouettes still recognizable against the skyline, but they could never revert to their former glory. It had to be incredibly difficult for him. You decided to pause your walk and return to his side.
“Pons Aemilius…” he murmured, his gaze wandering across the ancient structure.
“It's called Ponte Rotto now,” you corrected him. “The Broken Bridge.”
“It’s been repaired several times in throughout my youth,” Marcus said, squinting as he continued to gaze at the remnants of the bridge.
You didn’t want to delve into the history of the bridge—or all of Rome—as it had changed over time. He didn’t press the matter either; he likely wasn’t ready for that conversation.
It was a very complicated situation.
Traveling to the past was daunting and incredibly difficult, but traveling to the future must be even harder—a formidable challenge that would test his limits in ways he never imagined. Oddly enough, you both were experiencing this from entirely opposite perspectives. As you strolled along the Tiber, you chatted with Marcus about morning exercises people engaged in now, the influx of tourists, and the various newly built structures around you. Marcus, being a smart man, had already pieced together how Rome had transformed over time, based on what he saw and heard. It was justified for him to be surprised.
At the end of your walk, as you regaled him with the story of the Trevi Fountain, Marcus couldn’t help but chuckle. He certainly didn't buy into the idea of associating the fountain with love, considering he was the only living witness to its history. But still, he agreed to toss a coin into the water.
“You tossed a coin into the fountain; congratulations, you’re a true Roman now,” you teased him.
He laughed too, though you noticed a flicker of sadness in his eyes. You both locked gazes on the spot where you had read the parchment, the very spot where you travelled to the ancient Rome and came back. You wondered what was running through his mind. Was he contemplating a return to his time?
“Are you thinking about Julius?” you asked tentatively.
His eyes wandered over the statue of Neptune, and he sighed. "Julius, my soldiers, Emperor Severus, even Lydia,” he said, glancing at you and managing a faint smile. “I hope they prevent Geta and Caracalla.”
You hesitated, debating whether to reveal that Caracalla had indeed ascended to the throne and later had Geta killed. “I’m sorry, Marcus. I hope everything is fine,” you said, trying to sound reassuring but not quite convincing even yourself. After a deep sigh, you decided to ask the next question. “Do you wish to go back?”
He looked at you, smiled, and gently caressed your cheek. “No, Rosa. Not anymore,” he said softly, locking eyes with you, making your heart flutter. “I will miss Julius dearly, and the streets where I grew up—the familiar Rome that shaped my youth, I know so well. If Julius knew that I found you, he would wish me to stay here, with you.”
“You're right; he’d want what's best for you,” you murmured. “But Marcus, who are you choosing to stay for?”
He frowned at your question.
You pressed on. “Last night... Who did you kiss? Rhea or me?”
“Rosa, I told you, you are her,” he replied.
“Marcus, look, this is super confusing for me. I mean, in the middle of a kiss, I've just bared my heart to you, and then you throw this at me… How can we be the same person? Rhea was from your time. I’m Rosemary Louise Anderson; I’m from here. We can’t be the same just because we look alike—it’s absurd.”
“What do you truly know about reincarnation?” he asked.
“I see it as soul transmigration,” you answered.
“That’s not it.” He continued, “In my faith, it's viewed as something that the god Viduus orchestrates with his power. Personally, I've never encountered it, and I’m not a believer, but perhaps I’m starting to.”
“Viduus? I thought it was Janus, at least that’s what Katie said.”
“Yes, the parchment bears his symbol and his name.”
“That’s really odd. So why can’t I remember anything?”
“That’s another question I can’t answer, Rosa.”
Should you have mentioned the voices that briefly echoed in your mind? It lasted only two or three seconds, then faded away.
Even if you did tell him, what would it change? “You must really want me to remember, don’t you?” You turned your gaze back to the fountain. “If I can’t remember, if it turns out I’m not Rhea, what then? Will you still love me?”
“Rosa—”
You interrupted him, “Or let me put it another way, Marcus. If I weren’t the girl who looks like your first love, if I were just Rose, could you still love me? Or would I still just be the girl you were cold to, the one you married for protection only?” Tears began to spill down your cheeks, and you could feel the sobs building up.
Marcus didn’t respond; he couldn’t find the words. It seemed he didn’t know the answer either.
“Because Marcus, I love you for who you are, regardless of everything. No matter how you treat me. But if you can’t give me a straightforward answer, don’t expect me to ask you to stay or to love you any longer. I can’t do that with someone else occupying your heart.”
He took your hand, but words escaped him. He was struggling to articulate his thoughts.
“I think you can find your way back to the apartment from here,” you said, turning and walking away.
Marcus just stood there, staring after you.
Like a statue, frozen in place— a statue filled with emotions and confusion.
He was taken aback by your words; he hadn't considered those possibilities until now. As he stood by the fountain, he searched his own heart, forcing himself to find the answer. But it felt insurmountable. He had been convinced for 24 years that he would never love anyone like he loved Rhea -you-. The question stirred frustration within him. He had treated other women as mere acquaintances, certain he could never feel that way again.
When you got home, tears streamed down your face uncontrollably. You were angry with yourself; why were you crying? This wasn’t the first time you shed tears for a man but this time everything was so painful. Just as you were about to unlock the door, Lizzie swung it open from the inside, keys in hand.
Oh no, she had seen your tears.
“Are you off to school?” you asked, tucking the keys back into your pocket.
“Yeah. Are you okay? You didn’t look too good yesterday. Was a walk really a good idea?”
“I’m fine, dear, don’t worry. Sorry, I was… just feeling anxious about work and everything.”
“Nothing to do with Marcus?”
You knew she would catch on the moment you lied. And you did enough already. “That too, but we’re fine now.”
She narrowed his eyes, studying your face. “I’m glad to hear that. He was pretty worried yesterday. I mean, he’s odd, but he’s a good guy.”
“Yeah, he is.”
“By the way, Aunt Victoria called,” she said while slipping on her shoes.
“What did she want?” you asked, stepping inside and removing your shoes.
“She thanked us for not calling her even once since she left,” she replied with sarcasm.
“Oops,” you mumbled. “What else did she say? I bet she did.”
“Well, she invited us to Milan this weekend.”
“You should have turned it down,” you said as you loosened your ponytail.
“Try yourself. She’ll call you soon; don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She kissed you on the cheek and bounded down the stairs.
You instinctively took your phone out of your pocket.
Phone.
Marcus.
You sighed when you walked into your room and saw his phone on the desk. He still wasn’t used to it— it would take time for it to become as familiar to him as his sword.
You couldn't help but laugh at the state of your room. On the bed and desk, there used to be just paper sketches of designs you were working on, along with fabrics, scissors, and a sewing box. Sure, you were messy back then too, but that wasn't the main change. What had really shifted was the pile of Marcus's clothes neatly folded on your little armchair. You opened your wardrobe and started taking out some winter clothes to store in the communal dressing room closet. You wouldn't need them for a while, but Marcus's clothes needed a home. It was hard to believe you were doing this. You had always thought that if you ever got married, you'd live in the house of your husband. But this was a whole new concept, and oddly enough, you liked it. Most of the clothes in your closet were things you had sewn yourself, often transforming a plain pair of trousers or jeans with some added detail. You loved the idea that the outfit was uniquely designed for you; it had been your favorite pastime since childhood. That’s why you seldom went shopping for new clothes. However, shopping for Marcus was a different story, and you enjoyed picking out new outfits for him. As you hung his clothes on hangers and placed them in the spaces you created for him in the closet, a sense of fulfillment washed over you. You couldn’t wait to see his reaction when he arrived to find them.
Speaking of...
Why was he taking so long?
Suddenly, panic washed over you.
He hadn't taken his cellphone with him; what if he got lost? You dashed to the living room, flung open the window, and looked down at the street below.
He was nowhere in sight.
Perfect—just what you needed, another anxiety attack.
You rushed to the door, slipped on your shoes, and felt guilt gripping your entire being. “Why did I leave him alone?” you muttered to yourself.
As soon as you opened the door, you froze at the sight before you.
Daisies.
A bouquet of them was offered to you from a hand reaching out, and that’s when you spot Marcus.
Seeing his smile made you place your hand on your chest and take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart.
“I was thinking the flowers for Rosa should be roses again, but then I remembered you said you liked daisies,” he said, looking straight at you.
He frowned at your expression. “Are you well?”
Instead of taking the flowers, you reached out and hugged him tightly. “Marcus, you scared me! I thought you got lost or that something had happened to you.”
He gently patted your back. “Don’t worry, I know my way home now. This is my city too, remember? I’ve made a mental map of the new city by recreating the buildings I remember from my time. I don’t think I’ll get lost easily.”
Taking a step back, you observed him closely. “Really? That's quite clever. But you still need to have your phone with you, so make sure you answer when I call.”
“You're right, I will,” he replied.
You took the bouquet of daisies from his hand. “But how did you manage to buy these? You don’t have any euros.”
"Enzo," he replied with a grin. "He mentioned that he owed me a payment from last time but couldn't give it to me directly, so he handed me some... um, how do you say it?"
"Cash?"
"Yes, that's it... cash," he said with a smile.
Ah, that's right.
Last time, Marcus had spent the night outside Enzo’s restaurant, stalking you. Enzo had mentioned that Marcus-dressed as a Roman general-drew in a lot of customers, like a living mascot for his shop. What a great guy. Even though Marcus hadn’t asked for anything, Enzo had gifted him some of the money he earned thanks to his charm.
“Wow, you’ve got about 400 euros here,” you said while counting. “So you’ve made your first earnings and your first purchase. Congratulations.” You smiled and looked at the daisies. “And thank you.”
Marcus sighed as he walked in. “I wish I could make more ‘cash’,” he said, clearly struggling with the new word. “I’d give it all to you. Then you wouldn’t have to work at all.”
“Whoa, hold on. Are you trying to play the macho card, General?”
“Macho?”
“Well, some men want their wives to stay home and raise kids instead of having any jobs.”
Marcus crossed his arms. “That doesn’t sound so wrong to me.”
“Oh, right, who am I talking to? What does a man from ancient Rome know about modern life?”
"In this place, men allow their wives to work while they remain at home without any responsibilities?"
“Well, it’s a bit complicated actually. Societal norms vary.” Suddenly, an idea struck you. “You know, the best way to understand modern life is by watching TV series and movies. Since we’re both jobless right now, why not watch a movie together?”
Marcus narrowed his eyes, clearly clueless about what you meant.
You sighed and began explaining the TV and movies to him.
Watching a movie with the -ancient- Roman general turned out to be even funnier than you had anticipated. Your style leaned towards romantic comedies and dramas, so when you introduced him to your favorites, Marcus ended up asking more questions about the actors, the atmosphere, and the costumes than about the plot. Showing him a historical film wasn't the best idea, but somehow, those movies kept cropping up. In reality, the films were like a crash course in modern history for Marcus, packed with insights about everyday life. Yes, the thought of watching a movie made sense; it conveyed so much more than you could ever explain. He seemed genuinely delighted to be introduced to popcorn and coffee during your movie marathons.
But during the last film, *Pride and Prejudice*, you both found yourselves staring at each other, as it mirrored your own situation. You had always felt a connection to the character of Elizabeth, and you couldn't shake the feeling that Marcus had some resemblance to Mr. Darcy too—his initially cold demeanor had gradually softened over time. When Mr. Darcy finally confessed his love to Elizabeth, you couldn't hold back the tears. “Every single time,” you murmured.
Marcus turned his gaze towards you. “It seems that you have viewed this movie on several occasions.”
“I’ve read the book as well, but this movie is wonderful. My favorite stories are the ones where love triumphs in the end. Ironically, Jane Austen, despite her own unhappy love life, supposedly gave each of her characters a happy ending to spite her circumstances.”
“Happy ending,” he echoed, locking eyes with you.
“Yeah,” you whispered. “Do you think our story will end happily too?”
He nodded. “It will be, Rosa.”
There was a silence between the two of you.
“Have you thought about what I mentioned earlier?”
Even Mr. Darcy had found the courage to express his feelings; now it is your turn, you thought to yourself.
Just then, the door swung open and Lizzie walked in from school. “Hey, guys!” she greeted, glancing at the credits of *Pride and Prejudice* rolling on the screen.
“I would have come later if I knew you were watching a romantic movie,” she laughed before heading to her room.
Marcus didn’t look at her right away; his eyes remained fixed on you, so you waved Lizzie off and turned your attention back to him.
But that night, he didn’t really say anything.
He just couldn’t bring himself to do it.
Milano.
After all these years…
How did it happen?
How did you find yourself here?
It all started with an endless phone call from your aunt, one you thought you would never receive again—a call that might have been the longest of your life.
Despite saying no and resisting her insistence, she managed to wear you down; here you were. Lizzie also played a big part, constantly talking about how much she needed a break now that her school was on vacation. The manor house, a 400-year-old historical monument nestled in a large garden, was just a short distance from Lake Como. Your aunt’s husband, Vincenzo, in his fifties and the CEO of one of Italy's top fashion brands, owned the family fortune worth billions, so it was only natural for him to own such a grand home. It had been quite some time since you had last seen him. He typically worked long hours, and even when you came here with your dad and mom, he was often nowhere to be found.
Victoria had repeatedly urged you to move in with her after the tragic loss of your parents, but you never accepted. You held a grudge against her for the history between her and your mother. You loved Rome; leaving for another city felt unimaginable. You didn’t want to uproot your life—your college, Lizzie's school, and your work all tied you to that city. Moreover, it was risky to transfer your father to another hospital since he lay in a coma after a severe brain hemorrhage.
Perhaps because of all this, your aunt didn’t push you hard. She understood your stubbornness well. Now, though you felt a little uneasy about coming here, a few days wouldn’t hurt, especially with Marcus by your side. For some reason, he made you feel incredibly safe. You realized that waking up next to him felt wonderful, even without any physical intimacy. Yet, you found yourself still angry with him, confused by his feelings and the lack of clarity about his love for you.
What was he waiting for?
You wondered if reincarnation stuff was real, somehow you found yourself wishing for that.
The thought of being the only woman in Marcus's heart was beautiful, though doubts haunted you—did he love you or her?
It was tough to wrap your head around that.
During his first plane ride ever, Marcus surprised you with his calm demeanor. He wasn't scared or nervous at all; instead, he smiled at you while you sat by the window, holding his hand. He was fascinated by the sights of Rome and all of Italy from above.
“All these years, I’ve battled and conquered new lands, I have engaged in numerous endeavors and explored new territories. I believed I had witnessed the full extent of the world. Now, it has become clear to me that the world is indeed much larger than I thought,” he murmured.
“The Roman Empire truly was one of the greatest,” you said, squeezing his hand. “And you’re one of the great generals who contributed to its glory,” you whispered, leaning closer.
He smiled.
Thankfully, Lizzie was absorbed in her headphones and tablet, uninterested in your conversation.
As you opened your eyes and became aware that you had dozed off against Marcus's shoulder, he gently kissed the top of your head. You exchanged a fleeting glance, silently acknowledging the emotions that lingered between you. That's when Lizzie caught a glimpse and smiled at you both. Still, she sensed something was off, and her thoughts drifted to that night she was preoccupied with the bed on the floor.
A driver sent by your aunt picked you up from the airport and escorted you to the mansion in a private car—an unnecessary luxury, one of your least favorite things and a favorite of hers.
Such contradictions defined your relationship.
By the time you arrived at the mansion, evening had settled in, and dinner awaited you. Unfortunately, your aunt's sister-in-law, Beatrice, was present. Unfortunately, because you didn’t like her; she talked too much and meddled far too often. She bombarded you with questions about Marcus during dinner. Luckily, you had prepped your story with Marcus in advance. Although you disliked lying, you had to; after all, the truth was far worse than the worst lie.
After dinner, sitting in the spacious living room, you exchanged smiles with Marcus as Vincenzo poured wine from his private cellar. You both knew the ancient Roman falernian wine was exceptional. Yet Marcus favored the taste of Château d'Yquem, sparking a lengthy conversation about wine between him and Vincenzo. Fortuitously, the ancient world and modern age sharing a common fondness for the wine.
While Vincenzo, Beatrice's husband, and Marcus engaged in their lengthy discussion, your aunt invited you and Lizzie to sit on the veranda in the back garden. You glanced back at Marcus before leaving; he gave you a reassuring look that said it was okay.
He seemed to be getting used to all of this.
Sitting on the veranda with Beatrice, Victoria, and Lizzie, the chatter about Marcus flowed freely. Not only did you have to field their endless questions, but you also had to listen to their opinions. As they reminisced about Marcus's parents, Balbina crossed your mind, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought of your aunt meeting her.
“I like Marcus so much. He seems like an amazing guy,” Beatrice said with a grin as she sipped her wine. She adored chatting about men—perhaps that was why she had been married five times before hitting her forties. She was practically an expert on relationships, or so she claimed. “His way of speaking and his demeanor—they really set him apart. He’s a very noble man. Quite different from you, Rose,” she added with a teasing smile. “They say opposites attract, and it looks like it might be true.”
Victoria took a sip of her drink. “But he’s older than Rose. So, is the age gap 18 or 20 years between you?”
“It's sixteen, but that’s not really your business, ladies,” you shot back with an attitude, rolling your eyes.
“Oh, that’s fine. Older men know what they want,” Beatrice said with a cheerful manner.
“Do they? And what exactly is it that they want?” you asked sarcastically.
“A serious, low-key relationship. And children. He married you in his forties, after all, and he seems like he’d make a great family man.”
The mention of children sent a wave of anxiety through you, almost making your chest tighten.
“Rose is just the woman to have kids,” Victoria giggled, poking fun at you. “But I’d love to see you as a mother,” she continued. "Who knows, maybe you could be the one to give me some grandchildren," she sighed.
Lizzie rolled her eyes and opened her tablet, slipping on her headphones. She knew what your aunt would bring up next. Yes, Victoria and Vincenzo hadn’t had children despite wanting them deeply, and she had occasionally viewed you and Lizzie as her own child—maybe a bit too much over the years. You hadn’t allowed that connection to flourish since you disliked interference in your life. The constant tension between your mother and her was enough to deal with on its own. You could attribute some of this to the fact that you had broken your aunt’s heart numerous times during your teenage years, but she insisted on keeping you close. Guilt wasn’t why you were here, though.
You were thankful she was looking after Lizzie in your absence. But it didn’t mean you wanted her discussing your personal life with Marcus any further, at least not that evening.
When you got up to excuse yourself to your room, your aunt turned to Lizzie, eager to hear more about you and Marcus. As Lizzie recounted the events of the night, including what she had observed, Victoria reacted with unexpected shock.
“Did you say they were sleeping separately? Jesus Christ!”
Beatrice clutched her chest. “That’s awful.”
Lizzie raised her eyebrows. “I don’t understand what’s so bad about it. They clearly had a fight and didn’t go to bed together. Why are you blowing this out of proportion?”
“Oh, my Lizzie,” Beatrice began, “You’re still quite young, and it’s hard to grasp, but this is a disaster for a newlywed couple. Couples should always share a bed, no matter the situation.”
“I think Rose must be lacking some compassion for Marcus. Silly girl, she’s never been one to be tolerant or respectful, not even toward the man she loves.”
“Let’s not exaggerate. Isn’t Marcus at fault too? Maybe he has something to do with this?”
“He’s a gem,” Beatrice insisted. “I can read a man well just by looking at him. That man is crazy about Rose. Poor Marcus; he’s probably more in love with her than I realized. What man can endure this?”
“Overstating? Darling, when we were alone with my husband during our newlywed times, we were at it every minute—”
“Beatrice,” Victoria interjected with a warning. “Lizzie is 17 and a virgin, so let’s tread carefully.”
Lizzie rolled her eyes once more. "Even a six-year-old knows about that kind of stuff."
“We can’t let this go on,” Victoria declared. “Rose can’t endure another breakup after all the heartache. We need to step in. But how?”
“Wait, what do you mean we need to step in? You’re not planning to meddle in their private lives, are you?”
“No, we won’t interfere. We’ll just help them. We have to reignite their love.”
“Oh, I know just what to do!” Beatrice clapped her hands together excitedly. “After all, as a woman of passion, I’m an expert in this.”
Lizzie stood up. “Count me out of this. I’m sure Rose wouldn’t appreciate any intrusion into her life. I don’t want to face her wrath.”
The room they gave you was larger than your entire apartment—possibly even bigger than Marcus' room back in Ancient Rome. The mansion had a classic charm, complete with small fireplaces in each room and beautifully restored wall details that spoke of its history.
“You and Vincenzo seemed to hit it off,” you remarked, glancing at Marcus.
“He's a decent man. His passion for wine surprised me—I never knew there were so many varieties. It's hard to believe people are still so interested in wine these days,” he replied.
“It’s great to see you adapting to my time and people.”
“Despite my efforts, I can't say I've succeeded,” he muttered, sounding a bit down.
You paused with your suitcase half-unzipped, sensing his unease. “What do you mean by that?”
“It’s tough to fit into this world, Rosa. I was supposed to take you to the hospital that night, but I didn’t know how to drive a car. Your sister called a taxi. I still struggle with some conversations, but I pretend I understand. Most of all, I feel like a burden.”
You left your clothes as they were and moved closer to him. “Marcus, don’t think like that. You’re not a burden. Just being in the same house—and sharing a room—with you has brought color to my life," you said with a smile. "Who else can say they’re roommates with a Roman general? I consider myself lucky."
Marcus smiled gently, his fingers brushing against your cheek. “This Roman general feels fortunate to have a woman like you by his side. However, as your husband, I know I have responsibilities. I can't simply stand by while you search for a job. While it may be acceptable here, in my world, a man provides for his woman, ensuring that all her needs are met. I don't want to tell you not to work; I don’t think I have that right. And please, don't use that word when referring to me.”
“Macho? Bigot? Psycho? Misogynist?” you teased.
He laughed. “Yes, those… Rosa; if I’m going to settle in this place, it’s vital for me to have a sense of responsibility.”
“Okay, I get it. Right now, you’re in a Generation X mindset. I have to think of it that way."
“Generation X?”
You laughed at his reaction. “I mean, I won’t call you ancient. You’re in your 40s or 50s now. Anyway, to make you feel better, I promise I’ll help you find a job. But first, you need to adapt to this world a bit more—like learning to use your phone and drive a car--”
Suddenly, he took your hands and pressed both to his lips, making your heart race. “Gaudium vitae meae (joy of my life). I will adjust to anything as long as you’re by my side."
He kissed the top of your hand and leaned in closer, resting his forehead against yours. Your eyes were locked, both following the movement of his lips to yours. When he cradled your face in his strong hands, it felt like you could hardly breathe. He placed a tender kiss on your temple, slowly moving his lips down your chin aiming your lips. Each kiss felt like he was carefully gauging your reaction, tracing a sweet path until he fully captured you.
“Rosa,” he whispered, his breath teasing your lips.
“Marcus,” you murmured back, feeling the same intense feelings.
But just as your lips were about to meet, your phone began to ring. You pulled back reluctantly to answer, seeing the number you had been waiting for.
“I have to take this,” you said, glancing at Marcus.
He nodded and went to the suitcase to grab his clothes. It was the head costume designer discussing an upcoming project, but your focus remained on Marcus as he stripped off his shirt, nearly making you forget the call.
“Hey, what are you doing? Use the bathroom,” you whispered to him while still on the line.
Marcus shrugged. “Could we end this? Besides, you mentioned your aunt shouldn’t realize we’re not married.”
“Ending this?” you almost raised your voice. “Oh no no, I didn’t say to you to ending anything,” you said with a nervous smile at your phone while shooting Marcus a warning glance. “Okay, I’ll be there," you said before hanging up.
“Did they offer you a job?” Marcus asked.
“Yes, but first, I need to attend a meeting. I’m sure she’ll have me come up with a million designs. But I can handle it,” you sighed, feeling confident.
“I believe you can do it, Rosa,” he said with a smile that made him look irresistibly charming, especially without his shirt.
“I-I should get in the shower,” you stammered, pointing toward the door as you turned and hurried out of the room.
Marcus chuckled at your reaction, ready to change his pants when a knock interrupted him. He sighed, giving up and opening the door. Victoria and Beatrice stood there, grinning widely.
“Oh honey, sorry to drop in at this hour. We just wanted to check if you needed anything,” they said, eyes gleaming as they took in Marcus’ bare chest.
Beatrice nudged Victoria inside, and they rushed into the room. With arms crossed and brows raised, Marcus watched them warily. “We don’t need anything, thank you, Lady Victoria and Lady Beatrice.”
“Oh, he says ‘Lady’ beautifully, doesn’t he, Beatrice?” Victoria remarked, a sparkle in her eye as she admired him.
“Yes, yes. He looks like a noble gentleman out of a medieval movie,” Beatrice chimed in admiringly.
Marcus smiled vaguely at their compliments, his gaze dropping to the bottle of wine she held. “You and Vincenzo talked about wines, and this one was your favorite,” she said, pointing to the bottle.
“We thought you might enjoy a drink,” Beatrice said with a cheeky wink at Victoria.
As she poured wine into a glass, Marcus stepped closer. “Actually, I’ve had quite enough to drink already—”
Before he could finish, Beatrice popped a piece of chocolate into his mouth, almost making him choke. "Top quality, from Sweden," she explained with a grin.
“Oh, come on, just take it. You’re a strong man; you can handle it,” Victoria said, playfully patting his chest and laughing as she handed him the wine glass.
Meanwhile, Beatrice sauntered over to the edge of the bed, seemingly aiming for the suitcase with another glass. She pretended to drop it accidentally, gasping, “Oh no!”
As Marcus continued to chew the chocolate, an unappealing taste lingered in his mouth, he turned to see the wine spilled all over the suitcase and ruin almost everything inside.
“Oh Beatrice, what have you done?” Victoria exclaimed, rushing to her side with exaggerated concern.
“I’m so sorry, my dear,” Beatrice said, pouting her lips apologetically.
Marcus frowned, feeling something was off. “Rosa’s clothes,” he said, lifting up the wine-soaked pajamas that had been meant for after your shower. Unfortunately, the t-shirt he planned to wear was soaked too.
With a gleam in her eye, Victoria reached for the suitcase and snapped it shut. “I’ll have them washed right away. Carmen!” she called out, her voice ringing through the hallway.
Moments later, Carmen, the housekeeper, appeared at the door.
“Yes, Mrs. Albano?”
“Take this with the clothes inside and wash them to keep any stains from setting in,” Victoria said.
Carmen hesitated for a moment, but quickly took the suitcase and left. Turning back to Marcus, Victoria continued, “We truly apologize again. I’ll find something for you and Rose to wear.”
Marcus felt a mix of anger and suspicion towards their odd behavior. Then, to his surprise, they dashed out of the room faster than he could process. Leaving him bewildered in the room, two women in the hallway, giddy and playfully high-fiving each other.
“Isn’t he handsome?”
“Oh, especially with those scars.”
“I wonder how he got those though. Do you think he might have done stunt work in the set?"
“Who knows? But I think scars make a man look more rugged. If I were younger, I’d be head over heels for him,” Beatrice sighed.
“Goodness, you naughty woman. Keep it down, or your husband will hear you,” Victoria scolded lightly.
“That big bear? He’s already snoring away in bed,” Beatrice said, rolling her eyes.
“God forgive us, you're so bad."
They both burst into laughter as they made their way back to their rooms.
"What do you mean they took all my clothes to wash them?"
When you stepped from the bathroom into the bedroom, only wearing a towel, and asked Marcus why he still wasn't wearing anything on top, his response left you stunned.
As if it wasn’t enough that your aunt and Beatrice had barged into your room in the middle of the night and spilled wine all over your clothes, now you found yourself in this embarrassing situation. Marcus, it turned out, was in the same boat—he had no clothes left either. It seemed suspicious that all your clothes in the suitcase were stained with wine.
But why would they do such a thing?
When Carmen arrived with a bag of new clothes, the answer became crystal clear. “You old dirty bitches...” you muttered under your breath. Inside the bag were a few ridiculously sexy nightgowns that were undoubtedly expensive, clearly from Vincenzo's fashion brand. Those brand-name dresses your aunt had sent you before, along with the overly revealing items you would never dream of wearing. It wasn’t your style, yet your aunt seemed oblivious to that. Lizzie shared your taste, but they both always loved to meddle in your lives—just as they were doing now.
“I can’t believe she did this.”
“You should wear something; you’re going to catch a cold,” Marcus said, coming closer and making you even more nervous.
“If I wear this, I’ll catch an even worse cold, trust me.”
“They look like that clothes we saw in that store,” he remarked, peering into the bag. You knew exactly what he meant—those sexy nightgowns he had spotted while you buying him underwear, only causing him to look away in embarrassment. “This meant for me, isn’t it?” he asked, pulling out a black linen nightshirt from another bag.
You reached over and snatched it from his hand. “I’ll wear this one."
“But this is men’s clothing.”
“So what? You didn’t think I’d wear those other options, did you?”
“I think it would look great on you,” he teased, a crooked smile on his face.
You narrowed your eyes in response. “You might be waiting a long time for that—”
“Please let go of your hold, Rosa,” he said, pulling at the shirt, but you held firmly onto your end.
“But I can’t sleep in these. I’m cold, please.”
With a sudden yank, Marcus pulled the shirt again and drew you closer, wrapping his arm around you. “I’ll keep you warm,” he said playfully.
You widened your eyes but managed to pull back just in time; the towel almost slipped away, but you caught it at the last moment. You couldn’t see clearly, but your back was exposed, and you shivered as a draft hit you.“Marcus, please, just give me the damn t-shirt.”
He chuckled, “Even if you wear this, your legs are still going to be exposed. Come now, don’t be stubborn—wear that dress instead.”
You didn’t want to give in to your aunt’s game, but there seemed to be no choice. Your body was still damp, and the wet towel and hair were making things worse. Plus, you could warm up under the blanket. Gripping the towel tightly against your chest with one arm, you took a bag with the other and slipped behind the screen.
You tossed the towel onto the screen as you muttered a curse. The nightgown was sheer lace, while the other options were even more revealing. The most modest one was red satin with a plunging neckline. But that didn’t change the fact that it was incredibly short. Oh, and there was also a lace panty so thin it might as well have been a whisper.
Great.
Each piece still had tags on them, as if they had been handpicked just for you. It seemed a long chat with your aunt was in order for the morning. After putting on the nightgown and panties, you felt a wave of relief on your skin, likely due to the fabric’s quality, but your body suddenly felt aflame.
How were you going to face him dressed like this?
You peeked around the edge of the screen; he was busy tearing off the tag from his T-shirt. “Now I need you to promise me something.”
“Hm?” He turned his head in your direction, curiosity sparkling in his eyes.
“You won’t stare at me. And definitely no touching. We’ll just get into bed and sleep. Okay?”
“Rosa, you’re asking me to do something pretty tough,” he replied with a sly grin.
You frowned. “I said promise me. As a Roman general, this is one of those life-or-death promises... so promise me already.”
"I apologize, but I'm afraid I have to decline."
You blinked in surprise. “Why?”
"I cannot make a promise I can't keep," he said with a smirk.
“Oh c'mon! I’m not asking you to cut yourself or something.”
"What you are requesting is harder than that, Rosa." As he approached with intent, his focus remained steady on you. "I wish for you to be my true wife. In fact, in my time, we are already married, so let us proceed with finalizing the necessary documentation here."
You raised your eyebrows in disbelief, heart fluttering. “Excuse me?”
“Marriage license,” he said, remembering the movie you watched together.
“Whoa, so you think you know everything now, huh, Mr. General? Then tell me this: why should I marry you?” you asked playfully, caught up in the moment without realizing you had stepped out of the screen to face him directly.
He narrowed his eyes as you approached, taking in your appearance, visibly captivated.
He swallowed hard. “You said you loved me. You kissed me, saying you wanted me.”
“That was before you said those things to me,” you replied, struggling to keep your gaze from drifting to his bare chest. Marcus leaned in closer, and you instinctively took a step back. “What are you doing? Don’t come at me like that,” you warned, retreating further. “Marcus, stop.” Suddenly, the back of your leg hit the edge of the bed, and you lost your balance, falling onto your back.
He leaned over you, but as you tried to pull away, he grabbed your wrists and pinned you down, watching your attempts to struggle with an amused expression.
“If I hadn’t said those things, you would’ve been ready to give yourself to me, wouldn’t you?” he whispered, his warm breath brushing against your face.
“Let me go. That won’t happen,” you insisted, striving to free yourself. But your efforts were futile.
"Don't be so sure of yourself, Rosa,” he said, leaning in to kiss you.
“I can’t,” you protested, causing him to halt. “Yes, I love you, but I can’t do this. It feels like there’s something—or someone—between us. I can’t move forward feeling this way.”
Marcus frowned, tightening his grip on your wrists just enough to almost hurt. “You’re mistaken. There’s no one else, Rosa. It’s only you and me.”
"Is that so? Then why do I feel this way? Maybe there are things you haven’t told me yet. How can I trust you?"
In an instant, a shift occurred in his expression, and he released you, sitting up on the bed. You followed suit, straightening yourself as well.
“Rosa, I’ve told plenty of lies for you, but I’ve never lied to you. I swear it,” he said softly and sincerely.
You fell silent, knowing deep down he wouldn’t deceive you.
He took your hands, placing them in his palms as if to measure the difference. “I understand why you’re taken aback by everything I’ve said, but I truly believe with all my heart that you are the only woman I love. I don’t know how to prove that to you, but it’s the truth. I’m certain of it.”
You pulled your hands back. “I need to be sure too. If I’m a reincarnation, I should remember my past, right? Otherwise, I can’t move forward with this, Marcus. I’m sorry.”
In one swift motion, Marcus wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. Your bodies brushed together, sending a rush through you as your hands instinctively clung to his shoulders. “You obstinate woman. I’m pouring my heart out, telling you that I love you and that my heart is yours alone. What more do you need to hear? Do you take pleasure in tormenting me?”
“Am I really the woman you love?” you asked, breathless as your lips almost touched his.
“It’s you, Rosemary,” he said, using your name for the first time in its true form. Taking your hand, he placed it on his chest, just above his heart. “You can’t easily change what your heart feels. This heart has loved only one woman, and that's you—regardless of the time difference. Believe me, it is you. I swear by all the gods I believe in, and even to your god, that it’s true. How else could I have found you again? How could you summon me? This can’t be mere coincidence. I If you doubt me, listen—feel my heart. It holds the answers you seek. I love you, Rosa.”
“Those words…” you whispered.
And then it happened again. It felt as if your thoughts, reasoning, and logic were dancing with the wind. Marcus' voice echoed in your mind once more: “Listen —feel my heart. It holds the answers you seek. I love you, Rhea.” These were familiar words, yet they resonated anew.
How had this come to be?
Where were you?
A memory, yes, a memory. But not just any memory.
This one was far more vivid, revealing a younger Marcus, hair free of grey, no scar marring his cheekbone. He wore a different kind of armor, and your hand rested on his chest just like now you do. The memory was so clear that you could almost feel the texture of the leather under your palm. With the sweet sounds of chirping birds and a gentle breeze, you could tell that you were younger too—your hand resting on his chest seemed smaller.
Everything felt different, yet somehow the same.
His touch, the way you looked at each other, and the emotions swirling around—it was all familiar.
“Marcus,” you breathed, echoing the tone from that vivid memory, even surprised yourself. The very words from your memory took shape and spilled from your lips. “Marcus," you whispered once again. "I feel your heart with mine. I hear your words—I love you with every fiber of my soul, completely and unconditionally."
Marcus's eyes glistened with tears, a mix of surprise and overwhelming happiness at the recollection of that moment. “Mei amor,” he said, his voice deep and trembling, mirroring the feelings you both shared in that cherished memory.
Then he kissed you, just like he did in there.
Yet this kiss was different—more passionate, more tender, filled with longing, need, as if his very existence depended on it.
In an instant, you broke the surface of that treasured memory, leaving behind the sunlit meadow of ancient Rome and returning to the grand room in a Milan mansion. Your eyes fluttered open as you gradually pulled away from the kiss, both of you surrendering to the reality that surrounded you.
You locked eyes with him, hearts racing, breaths mingling in the charged silence. His deep brown eyes, rich and dark like gems, bore into yours with a profound intensity, as if he could peel back the layers of your soul to uncover every concealed thought. The fire in those eyes ignited something deep within, flooding your veins with warmth.
“What just happened?” you whispered.
“You remembered,” he smiled, his hand resting gently over your heart, feeling its rhythm beneath his palm. “You recalled our first kiss, my love.”
It was true—an unshakeable certainty washed over you, as if the universe itself had whispered the truth into your ear. Yet, amidst the emotional rush, a quiet realization settled within you.
You understood that this kiss was the only physical connection you shared, and you knew the truth behind it—she, or rather, you, was still a virgin.
This became evident in his gentle touch and the unspoken electricity crackling between you. The eager pulse of his hand above your heart spoke volumes without requiring a single word.
But all of that was about to change. You were no longer a virgin in this time or life, and your longing for him intensified, a desperate need coursing through you.
Head bending down, he nuzzled his nose into your neck, placing peppers light, sweet kisses in the crook where your throat meets your shoulders. However, with his strong body pressed against you, and your mind still traitorously wandering off to his naked body, you felt your body automatically respond to him. Involuntarily, liquid heat pooled between your thighs - a sudden wanton desire to feel him inside of you overtook your senses.
“M-Marcus,” you gasped out - his name tumbling out of your mouth before you could even stop it. There were a deep need to your voice, and when his body froze, you know he heard it.
“Rosa?” he replied, his head tilting to the side in question.
“Please,” came your breathy response. His gaze roved over you, and noting the slight breathlessness, and how your fingers curled into the muscles of his arms, his eyes widen in understanding.
His other arm curved around you, hand still resting on your breast. When you breathe, it made the calluses on his sword-hand rub against your skin which sending pleasant little shivers down your spine, causing your nipples drew tight.
“Rosa, what is it you want?” he asked, his gaze locking onto yours with a hint of desperation, longing for the response he yearned to hear.
“You,” you replied, your tone sharp and direct. "I want you."
A sly smile danced on his lips. “Are you truly certain?”
You nodded vigorously, “One hundred percent,” your fingers digging into the firm contours of his shoulders, the strength of his muscles only fueling your eagerness further.
Filled with happiness and joy at the answer, he pulled you in close and kissed you with such passion that your heart raced wildly in your chest. As your lacy-covered breasts brushed against his bare skin, a small moan of excitement escaped your lips.
He used your open mouth to his advantage and slipped his tongue inside, dragging it along yours. You crumbled, kissing him back with as much vigour as your body would allow.
The second kiss was like him, powerful but gentle, fierce but beautiful, and completely intoxicating. The touch of his tongue dancing with yours, the press of your lips, his hands on your body…it felt natural.
So natural as if you were always meant to be this.
To be his.
He moved to allow you to catch your breath, but his lips never leaving you. Instead, his mouth traced your bottom lip before moving along your jaw.
"You can not imagine how deeply I've ached for this moment, how many quiet prayers I’ve whispered to the gods themselves," he murmured softly, his breath warm against your skin as he paused between the gentle caress of your kisses. With tender care, he laid you back onto the soft, inviting bed. He leaned over, you wrapped your arms around him, your fingers first brushing against the arrow wound on his shoulder, then trailing down to explore the jagged line that marked his skin below it. Each scar was a testament to a life rich with battles fought, silent witnesses to the struggles he had endured—years that spanned nearly double your age.
Those painful years spent longing for you.
"You are my answered prayer, Rosa," he whispered, his voice deep and resonant, as he leaned down to capture your lips in another fervent kiss.
“I love you,” he whispered. Then, he ran his tongue down the length of your neck again causing a gasp of pure desire leaving you.
He repeated those three words as he peppered your chest with light strokes of his lips.
Body completely wired, your nerves burning with the ravenous heat of desire, you sank deeper and deeper into his presence; ignoring the slow burn that creeping into your lungs and focusing more on the intensifying heat that pools between your thighs. Gripping his locks, you kissed him back just as ferociously; the muscles of your thighs simultaneously flexing as you grind into his abdomen - in a bid to alleviate the deep ache in the pit of your stomach. Neck straining, you tried to press your lips harder against his. With a soft whine escaping your lips, your hands wrapped around his neck, then slid over his shoulders and down to his arms, gripping his biceps, pulling him closer, drawing him further down toward you.
His large hand slipped beneath your nightdress, grazing the laces of your panties—a strange yet incredibly alluring invention he had ever encountered. You couldn’t help but giggle at his reaction and playfully assisted him in slipping your panties off.
Kneading the flesh of your ass, his digits flex over your skin, and you moaned in pleasure - the sound muffled by his kiss. Gripping your ass harder, Marcus let out another low groan at the movement before he pulled you even closer. his other hand quite busy touching, stroking softly where he hadn’t yet explored. Where you felt burned. Every touch, every simple gesture, his eyes -god those eyes, they never left you, never stopped trailing a burning path on your body.
With a searing vengeance, the dull ache in your lungs suddenly ignited, and unable to resist its burn, you reluctantly tear your lips away from his. Gasping for oxygen, your breathes intermingled together - entwining between each others, and circulating the air between you.
He was staring at you, mouth soft and reverent, like you were holy, like you were the word made flesh. "You're so beautiful," he sounded awestruck, kneading you so gently, thumbing your nipple through your nightdress, and he was actually killing you.
You never knew his hands on you could feel like this.
“M-Marcus, please,” you mewled - the desperation evident in your tone.
With Marcus living with you, sharing your room, bathroom, even bed; not to mention the fact that he was almost always practically glued to you, it was not often that you’ve had any alone time. Thus, it’s been a long, long time since you’ve had any sexual release. And Marcus walking around your room half naked with his glorious body certainly hadn’t made matters any easier.
Feeling the bulge of his clothed erection against your heated sex, your head lolled back and let out a deep, keening mewl, your hips grinding against his a little faster. Through the fabric of his pants, you could almost feel him: long, thick and pulsating with need.
For a fleeting moment, the thought of Marcus' cock flit through your mind - and just the thought had your core throbbing in tandem with his shaft. Because you weren’t prepared for what he feels like and you were dying to find out. Briefly, you wondered if he’ll fit inside you: he was much larger than you, there was no denying it, and just like the rest of him, his cock must be equally large. Nonetheless, the slight concern that strums through you is overshadowed by your lust-filled anticipation: your body wanted nothing more than for him to fill you up and stretch you out - in a way no one else could.
Or would.
Removing your nightdress, he breathed out, his gaze honing in on the way your breasts move with each breath of your lungs, the peaks standing erect and pert. Wasting no time, Marcus sweep his head down and took one of them in.
The moment his mouth enclosed around your nipple, you whimpered out his name - your hips bucking into his. Flicking his tongue out, he licked to the hardened bud; and reflexively, your fingers fisted more of his curls - his ministrations drawing soft mewls of pleasure from your lips. Smirking against your breast, he grazed his teeth against your nipple - lightly nibbling on it and licking again - and immediately, you felt your arousal trickle out of your core.
“Oh, mmm, M-Marcus,” you groaned - tugging his hair and pulling him closer into your breasts. Releasing your nipple with a wet sound, he turned to the second one before repeating his action. This time, however, his large hand finds its way to your neglected breast, and palming at the soft mound, you feel deft, calloused fingers tease your wet nipple.
Delicate fingers danced over the underside of your breast, his digits reverently roving over your flesh as his thumb toys with your nipple - the pad of it repetitively caressing the hardened nub. His ministrations are incredibly tender, and despite the ravenous desire that burns within your stomach, you find yourself letting out a soft sigh as you relished in the attention he lavish on your tits.
Thighs flexing, you thrust your pussy against him; the molten heat between your legs growing uncomfortable and too much to bear. With every surge of your hips, his hard cock brushed against your wet folds, the head teasing your neglected clit; but the material of his pants smooth - and you can’t create enough friction to alleviate the deep ache.
Hearing your moan was like an audible aphrodisiac given to him by the gods of fertility.
From that moment on, Marcus changed profoundly. His eyes burned with an intense hunger, radiating a carnal need as they roamed over your body. His hands, no longer gentle, moved with a fervor that reflected the awakening of deep thirst, yet they still conveyed an undercurrent of control, resisting the wild urge surging within him.
You felt that same fire coursing through you; nothing in your life had ever ignited such an all-consuming desire. Every fiber of your being pulsed with an exhilarating passion, deeper and more intense than anything you had experienced before. In a moment of urgency, you reached out with fervor, impatiently tugging at his pants and underwear. He chuckled softly, surrendering control to you, as if sensing your escalating hunger. Until that point, he had been gentle, almost teasingly slow, but now you could barely contain yourself. Gratitude mingled with an insatiable craving—you yearned for more. You wanted to cry out for him to be rougher, to unleash all his strength to claim you and have you completely.
And soon he did it.
“Gods above, woman, your beauty casting a spell over me,” he muttered; with his gaze still fixed onto your exposed folds, you couldn’t help the ripples of embarrassment that flitters through you. Turning bashful under his stare, you curled into yourself slightly and tried to close your legs. However, Marcus was having none of it, and immediately, the hand holding onto your thigh flexing, his grip turning firm and halting your movements. Meanwhile, his free hand moved from your thigh to brush against your dripping core. Dexterous fingers teased the outline of the soft, dewy petals of your sex, causing your timidness into wanton need once again.
“Marcus,” you moaned once again. Hearing his name, Marcus' brown eyes darkened and in instant, he surged forward - his lips pressing against your folds. "So soft," he whispered against your sensitive skin, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine and causing you to bite down on your lower lip hard in response.
Tongue sliding out, he finally ran it over the entirety of your pussy: circling around your throbbing clit, over the outline of your folds before he teased the twitching entrance of your pussy. When he lightly flicked the honeyed muscles that make up your cunt, you cried out in pleasure; your inner walls involuntarily clenched around the tip of his tongue. The motion caused a fresh wave of arousal to trickle from your core; the thick wetness bathing his tongue.
Your heady taste coated his taste buds, and lapping at your entrance once again, he let out a moan. It was better than he could have ever imagined. Skin flashing with heat, spikes of pleasure prickled at your flesh, causing you to rock your hips into his face - in a bid to get his tongue deeper within you. Nonetheless, Marcus continued teasing your entrance - delicately tracing the ring of muscles in long, repetitive circles.
With your hands reaching out, you sank them once more into his hair, and a moan escaped your lips that sounded almost like a soft sob. "Marcus, please," you pleaded.
Smirking, he responded, "Patience, my love, patience," as he hummed softly.
Slowly, you felt the digit sliding into your velvet depths, and with each inch that pushed into you, your walls contracting around his long and thick finger. Releasing your clit, Marcus hissed at the sensation, “I see you are so tight and sensitive Rosa. Allow me to make you ready for me.” When the hilt of his finger hit your outer walls, he curled it - the motion causing your thighs to quiver as he stroked the sensitive zones inside of you.
Eyes rolling into the back of your skull, your hands tugged at his hair as your thighs shook: pure, unadulterated euphoria coursing through your veins.
Another finger teased at your entrance, before you feel him slip it into you - stretching you out wider. Crying out in pleasure, you bucked your hips into his mouth. Swirling his wet tongue, he licked at your inner walls - lapping, practically drinking in the wetness that seeps from your cunt. His amazing tongue moved deeply inside you; the muscle thrusting in and out as he fucked you with it, and every time it entered you. Pleasure burned deep in your abdomen, your stomach twisting and turning with every motion.
Thighs shaking on either side of his face, you felt your throat constrict as the knot inside your stomach begins tightening.
“Cum, Rosa. Cum for me,” he urged, one of his hands moving to lie flat on your abdomen as he pressed the thumb into your clit. Between the vibrations of his words reverberating through your cunt, and his thumb rolling your clit in small, tight circles, the coil inside your stomach suddenly snapped, and with a high-pitched mewl, you wailed out his name as you came.
Sheer, unbridled pleasure took you over; your blood boiling with euphoria as your body coming alive under the mind-blowing ecstasy he lavished upon you. Uncontrollably, your body began trembling, eyes rolling back as you cum around his mouth. Cunt contracting into a vice-like grip, your pussy forced both his fingers and tongue out of you, and instead, he moved his hands to grip your ass - his tongue lapping at your quivering entrance as you leaked into his mouth, your head spinning.
"So sweet," he praised. When your contractions begin slowing, your orgasm fading into light aftershocks of bliss, Marcus began pressing soft kisses to your clit, the tender action had you sighing.
Growing increasingly impatient, one of your hand curled around his shoulders, your fingers carding into his hair, whilst your other hand slipped between both your bodies. Fingers curling around his thick shaft, you gripped his cock. Feeling you stroke his length, your hand indolently palming at it as you silently awe at the size, Marcus hissed through his teeth. Gaze flicking up, you stared at him through the thick of your lashes, and despite the lazy, elated smile on your face, your eyes simmered with fervid desire, pad of your thumb skimming over the outline of his cock: where the head meets his length. Responsively, his length twitched, and repeating the motion, you pumped your fist over his impressive thickness.
With his gaze locked on yours, he gently ran his fingers through your hair. “Rosa, are you ready for me?”
“What do you think?” you teased, licking your lips with anticipation, your core more than drenched and ready for his cock.
“Very well,” he smirked.
Unable to hold himself back any longer, Marcus' arms pulled you into his arms. Eyes widening, you felt him easily lifting you up - almost as if you were weightless - before maneuvering you both so you were sitting in his lap; your thighs on either side of his hips. Inhaling sharply, your hands move to hold onto his broad shoulders as you felt the tip of his head brushing against your folds; pleasure darting over your nerves as it grazing your clit.
Large hands found the cheeks of your ass, and effortlessly, he hoisted you over his cock - so the crown pressing against your leaking entrance. Sitting in his lap, you were suddenly made aware of how large he is. Of course, you’ve always known - because standing at six foot one, and built of strong muscle - he had never been small by any means.
“Remain very still,” he breathed out. That was the only warning you get, because all of a sudden, you felt him lowering you onto his cock - the bulbous crown pressing against your dripping opening.
Mouth falling open, your throat hitched as you let out a silent scream. Despite how incredibly wet you are, your cum still leaking out of your core and slicking the opening in your arousal, he still struggled to enter you - his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as he attempted to force himself inside of you. There was an intense pressure against your cunt, your fingers delving further into the hard muscles of his shoulders, causing him hissing in response.
“Very tight,” he groaned, his sweet breath wafting over your face.
Whimpering, “And you’re fucking huge,” came your soughed response. As your back arched backward, he nestled his face into the curve of your neck while gently laying you back down on the bed.
"Sshh, calm yourself," he whispered to you ear. “I believe you are able to manage it, meum delicium.”
His words were soft, and affectionate, and yet, you couldn’t help but notice the authoritative inflexion to his words. Nonetheless, the dominance in them only turned you on further, and not wanting to disappoint, you sucked in a shaky breath before nodding.
And with just a simple thrust of his erection, you saw stars. “Oh, Marcus!”
He growled in response and did it again. And you gasped again. His mouth trailed towards your neck, grip shifting across your back deliciously while his teeth left behind little imprints near your jaw.
His mark -he was marking you.
“Are you well?" he asked.
“I-I can take it,” you whimpered. Against your skin, you feel his lips twist into a smile, and puckering them, he lavished another kiss to the base of your throat.
“Good girl,” he murmured. Continuing his descent into your velvet depths, your breath turned laboured as his heavy intrusion continued entering you, your eyes futtered at the sensation and small whimpers slipped through your lips, and just as you wondered just how long he is - just because of how much he utterly opening you up for his cock - you felt him bottom out. Your entire cunt burnt with pleasure, and you let out choked sob.
“Are you well, Rosa?” he asked again, his nose nuzzling the corner of your jaw. Eyes slowly slipping open, you blinked out, momentarily wondering just when you’d shut them, before nodding.
“Y-yeah,” you barely muttered in response, your voice coming out hoarse. Taking his time, he showered your chest with tender kisses; his large palms rolling and kneading the fleshy cheeks of your ass simultaneously.
With his cock buried deep into your inner depths, and his chest pressed against yours - your soft curves moulding against his hard torso - Marcus was all you can feel. Periodically, his cock pulsated within you, the shaft throbbing in tandem to your own quivering cunt, and slowly, the pain of his stretching you to your limit fades away - until it almost entirely dissipates.
While you've experienced intimacy numerous times before, nothing could compare to this. There were countless occasions where you set aside your own desires, but Marcus was different—he skillfully attuned to your every need, ensuring you experienced an exhilarating wave of pleasure. It was as if he had unlocked hidden doors within you, revealing sensations that felt utterly new and intoxicating, leaving you breathless and marveling at the boundless depths of ecstasy you never knew existed.
You never expected a man from ancient time -a Roman General- to be so good at fucking you.
Maybe it was just for Marcus.
He was amazing.
Left with nothing but the delightful bliss of him splitting you open around his immense girth, you softly crooned. Experimentally, you clenched your cunt around his cock, and, “M-Move, please,” you urged, your hips writhing against him. Just as he did with you, you ran your tongue up his neck -wanting to taste him, swirling it around his pulse point before moving to the sensitive skin below his ear. Without hesitating, you nibbled at his flesh before sucking, hoping to visibly mark him. Your name left him in a moan, making you feel triumphant.
Feeling your tongue on his skin Marcus growled and took a hold of your thigh and wrapped them around his waist one at a time. He planted his hands on either side of your head and pressed his forehead against yours, melding his gaze with yours. Then he leaned down to quickly kiss you, capturing your bottom lip between his teeth and bite down hard enough to make you groan. Meanwhile, he was thrusting his hips backwards, slipping his length almost entirely out of you before slamming back in. His movements sent you over the edge. Tightening your grip around him, your sudden orgasm overtook you, a loud moan coming out of you, toes curling in delight. "S-Sorry," you murmured, giggling.
Marcus chuckled and asked. ”May I—"
Understanding his unspoken request, you eagerly replied, "Yes, please, don’t stop," You were keen for him to continue, hoping for more.
He smirked and showered gentle kisses on your breasts, leaving the both of you wanting more.
He then set a brutal pace.
You couldn’t even move your hips to meet his thrusts; your legs wrapped around his waist put you at an angle where you have no choice but to take what he gave you. He grasped your ass and angled your hips upwards, forcing him deeper inside you. You could feel every delicious inch of him as he thrust into you, hitting your sweet spot with every surge forwards. He leaned forward, taking your legs with him, almost bending you in half, and captured your mouth with his. In comparison to the movement of his hips, the kiss was soft and gentle. The contrast made your head spin. You didn’t think there was a drug in this world that could give you the same effect.
You couldn’t believe you were close to having your third orgasm. You felt exhausted, at the same time, you didn’t want him to stop. You would happily let him fuck you until he split you open; even then, you’d probably beg for more.
You felt your slick down your thighs, creeping across your ass, and took less than a second to suspect there was a large stain forming on the sheets beneath you. But you were thrown out of that thought when a particularly hard slam of Marcus' hips had you screaming his name.
In your state of delirium, you didn’t feel Marcus spun you onto your stomach. He didn’t break the connection not even single second. He planted soft kisses all over your back, sensing that you were starting to lose control of your limbs and helped hoist you to your knees. His fingers dug into your hips hard enough to bruise. But you would welcome any bruise and mark he left on your body, you wouldn’t care.
A beautiful warmth enveloped you when Marcus bent forward, pressing his chest against your back. He reached for one of your hands and interlinked your fingers. You managed to find the energy to squeeze his hand. His thrusts were slow but incredibly deep at this angle, and you felt every inch of him inside you.
"I love you, Rosa,” he spoke low in your ear.
Turning your head to the side, you took your free hand and reached up to cup the side of his face, pressing as much of him against you as you can.
“I love you, too, Marcus.”
His hands returned to your hips as he straightened up behind you, squeezing your flesh; you gasped as your hips buck. A hand on your back forceing you lower into the bed, angling your ass higher.
He snapped his hips forward, contorting your body into an almost-uncomfortable position. Then, he thrusted in and out of you at a speed that should be impossible; you screamed his name over and over.
The sound of his skin slapping against yours, the rippling of your ass every time he went forward, and the sinful noise of his cock sliding in and out of you drag you higher. You felt yourself clenching around him once again, and if the noise that left him was any indication, he felt it too. And you felt it too-- he was close.
Suddenly, it hit you that you hadn't been taking your birth control pills for some time, and you realized you didn't have a condom on hand.
“Fuck,” you grunted. “I-“
A curse in his native tongue—Latin, though you’d never heard it before—slipped from his lips as he quickened his pace. His arm wrapped around you, almost leaving you breathless. Suddenly, without warning, your fourth and final orgasm hit you like a whirlwind, leaving you momentarily breathless and forgetting who you were. A few seconds later, Marcus moaned behind you, enjoying his own release. You could sense his ragged breath brushing against your cheek.
You felt your body melt into the sheets, your limbs too overstimulated to hold you. Then, you welcomed the warm weight of Marcus as he collapsed on top of you. He wiped your sweat-drenched hair off your face and smiled down at you.
You smiled back at him and he slowly pulled out, both of you let out low moans as his thick cock retreated out of your sensitive cunt, you felt his cum follow - trickling in thin rivers out of your slidely gaping entrance and down your ass. Feeling at the sensation, your walls involutarily clenched - in a poor attempt to keep as much of feeling inside you as possible - through, the movement only causing more of him to spill out, a vivid reminder of the passionate moment you had just shared.
It was absolutely exhilarating—an incredible rush of emotions— But as the initial bliss began to fade, a worry crept in: it hadn’t been protected sex.
Well it wasn’t his fault; how could he know? He was unaware of the modern methods.
“Meum corculum (my sweetheart),” he murmured, wrapping his arms around you, drawing you close to his chest. With your back to him, his nose nestled in your hair, you slowly drifted off to sleep, surrendering to the exhaustion that had taken over.
It would be a good idea to pick up the morning-after pill at the pharmacy tomorrow.
Yes, you should have.
At the same time, near the mansion.
a man sat in a black car, sending photographs from his phone to an email address. These were your images—taken at the airport, by the Tiber River, and outside your apartment building.
When the phone rang, he answered, glancing at the mansion silhouetted in the darkness. “Yes, I’ve been tracking her since she landed in Milan. The parchment is still with her. This time, we’re certain... It’s her,” he said.
Whatever the person on the other end of the line responded made him smirk. “Don’t worry; she’ll be on set for a meeting later this week, and then we’ll make our move,” he replied confidently before hanging up.
He then drove off into the night.
hope you enjoyed the chapter babies, thanks for reading ❤️ Your thoughts are important to me, so please share them with me.
this chapter was such a whirlwind again!! the drama, the meddling aunties, the sweet soft marcus AND the HOT DOMMY MARCUS cracking his beloved rosa like a glowstick after she remembered!!! 😍🥰🔥🥵
5k0 | Joel Miller x Javier Peña x fem reader | ao3 | masterlist
Summary: your longtime friend, Javi, helps you make your ex jealous
Warnings: 18+ mdni. Threesome mmf (Javi and Joel are bi), pet names (baby, sweetheart), oral (f/m), spit roasting, spitting, light overstimulation, praise kink, size kink, piv, anal, creampies. No age specified
Javi is cheeky, flirtatious and a menace, Joel is a little grumpy but mostly calm and settled because I love this dynamic between the two of them. For this story, let's imagine it’s possible to smoke in a restaurant 🙏 (because Javi’s hot when he’s a sassy smoker 😌)
a/n: this is written for @mothandpidgeon @schnarfer and @whocaresstillthelouvre ‘s Magic number writing challenge (masterlist) I asked for a prompt and Al gave me "fake relationship." As a lover of threesome fics, thank you so much for this challenge 🙏❤️
Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing me 😘💕 dividers @/saradika-graphics 🙏
Happy pride 🌈
“Can I ask you a favor, Javi?”
“Sure.” His quick reply was proof of your friendship and mutual trust, if any were needed. “Shoot, baby,” he added, already impatient. He was always on the move, both physically and mentally, he didn't like to settle down and take time for himself, which he wouldn't have known what to do with anyway. And he was always curious to know more about you.
“Would you help me make a man jealous?”
And above all, Javi was a player. So he smiled and replied, his eyebrow raised, “Absolutely.”
Joel and you had never really been official. You never had dinners with friends or family, you only spent some time together. Time that extended more and more in the last months, turning into nights spent at his place or yours. Or into lazy weekends where you barely got out of bed all day, your sweaty bodies heated by the sun rays streaming into the room. Until the night came and the moonlight took over.
You should have seen it coming, though. Joel had always been clear that he didn't want to be in a relationship. And maybe the bond between you was becoming too heavy for his liking.
However, when the “unofficial” ended, everything felt hollow. Not only because he was probably one of the most perfect guys you had met, attentive and soft, but taking charge when you needed him to. Or because you loved the way he wrapped his arm around your shoulder or your waist when you were walking side by side, showing his inner natural protectiveness. Life lost its color because the physical need of him was starting to eat you alive.
Now that you weren’t a “thing” anymore, Joel was always on your mind. Especially when you were touching yourself in your bed that still smelled like him, your pussy begging for his cock.
You had a hard time accepting that you were probably the only one feeling that need, considering he was the one that had ended it.
So when you learnt from a mutual acquaintance that Joel was having dinner at the restaurant next to his house on Friday night, you didn’t hesitate to involve Javi.
Javi and you were good friends. Friends with benefits, even, when you weren’t in a relationship, or in something “unofficial”.
Javi, on the other hand, was never in a relationship, it wasn’t his thing. He loved to be free.
You never fell in love with him, probably because you didn't want to be on his long list of heartbroken conquests. Javi always had a different woman on his arm, or a different man to hang out with. He was charming, sensual, full of self confidence, a “go with the flow” type. The most beautiful butterfly. It was out of the question for you to be charmed by the colors of his wings.
You were both ok with the special place you had for each other, and you loved to walk by his side, your arm around his slim waist, his around your shoulder, as if he was your boyfriend and you were his girl. You loved to feel envious glances of women on you in the streets, as Javi threw his both nonchalant and cunty look at them, before kissing your neck to tease them. They would ogle at him, lingering on his black leather jacket, the smell of which you loved so much, and his tight jeans that couldn’t hide the size of the cock resting there. But you were the one he took home to make you come as much as you needed to, until you were panting on the bed while he’d lit a post-sex cigarette. His gaze on you was always soft, tender and sweet when he would kiss your forehead. This was your Javi.
The men's gazes on him weren’t different, and you were amused when some of them had to readjust themselves after an eye-fucking session with Javi. Then he’d just point his chin the bar's bathroom, and they’d join him there.
He was a free spirit, he didn't hide it, and you loved it about him.
On Friday night, shortly before Joel was supposed to arrive, you and Javi were already at the restaurant, the table strategically chosen so Javi could watch the front door and the whole room.
“Late forties, slightly gray hair, ungroomed salt and pepper beard, broad ass shoulders, old green flannel, grumpy type?” Javi asked after you heard the door open, a few minutes later.
“Yep, that's him,” you answered.
Javi's smile widened. “Oh, this is gonna be fun,” he chuckled. “You didn't tell me he was that hot.”
Your dishes had just been served when Javi huffed “Ok, he bit. Did a double take at us and he doesn’t seem happy,” he smirked. He was way too good at this. Sassy. “I wonder how long it’ll take before he joins us.”
“What? Oh no, I don’t think he’ll do that,” you said, shaking your head.
“Oh, baby… wanna bet?”
You didn’t answer. You just hoped to get on Joel’s nerves a little with this fake date, and hadn’t really imagined he would go that far, but Javi seemed so sure of himself that you had some doubts now.
“Shit, he put the ketchup down on the table so hard I thought the cap was going to pop,” he laughed, unable to hide his amusement, as the idea of Joel being jealous pleased you.
“Ok, let’s tease him a little,” Javi added before wrapping his hand around yours.
“Javi!” you whispered, frowning, but he squeezed your hand, not letting you escape his grip, and looked at you with soft eyes. “Let me deal with it, baby, ok? That’s why you wanted me here, so trust me.”
You heard a loud chair scraping against the floor and then felt Joel’s presence near you. He sat down in the booth, looking at you first, then at Javi.
“Joel?” you said, your voice shaky, unable to hide your surprise at his bad mood. That wasn’t exactly like him. He tried to smile at you but it didn’t really reach his eyes, then turned to Javi, and grumbled “You are?”
“Javi, nice to meet you….?” he replied, waiting for Joel to say his name, smiling and full of charm, in total opposition to Joel's attitude.
“Joel.”
“Well, nice to meet you, Joel,” he said, before lighting a cigarette. “D'ya need some help?”
Javi's audacity was leaving you speechless as your gaze shifted from one man to the other.
“No I don't. Just wanted to say hi to my friend.”
“You seem too upset for someone who just wanted to say hi to a friend. Don’t you?” He took a drag and blew it towards Joel. “So why don't you stop bullshitting us and tell us why you're here? Because from the way I see it, you look jealous, Joel.”
He was so full of self-confidence, showing no hesitation, no wavering, his eyes fixed on Joel. You on the other hand... you wish you had the ability to snap your fingers and disappear instantly.
You looked at Joel, who surprisingly had a smile on his face. He was calm, unimpressed, his inner self finally back after this tensed introduction. You relaxed a little, as the pressure left your shoulders.
“You’re gonna tell me what this all is about, sweetheart?” he said softly, turning his gaze towards you. “Because if this guy was really a date… if you didn’t know him, I know you’d tell him to fuck off.”
Javi laughed, always confident in any situation. You, not so much, knowing that Joel had already figured it all out. You sighed, before answering “Javi’s a friend.”
“How much of a friend?”
“A good friend.”
“A good friend,” Joel repeated. “Ok. And you're both here by pure coincidence, or...?”
You looked down at your plate, unsure of how to respond. Being honest and implicitly admitting that you were not over the "ending", or lying. You were lost in your thoughts, knowing that the longer you took to respond, the more obvious the answer was.
You still didn't know what to say when Javi stepped in to help you.
"Oh come on man, stop torturing her."
Joel locked eyes with you as if he was crawling into your soul to find the answers. He frowned seeing what was there, a concern in his expression.
"Wanna come to my place? To talk about it?"
You hesitated. A part of you was glad that he was taking your emotions into account, even if they hadn't been expressed. You looked at Javi and asked him if he could join you, support you if needed, and help you gain perspective. When he nodded, you asked Joel if he was okay with that.
"Sure, sweetheart."
Once at Joel's, he offered you a drink and you all remained silent, until Javi rolled his eyes.
“Jesus, d’ya need me to be your matchmaker or what? What’s wrong with the two of you? But mostly, what’s wrong with you, man?”
“What is wrong with me? What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact that I happily fuck her each times she calls me. And I’d happily fuck her right now. So what’s your problem?”
“You let him talk about you like this?” Joel asked, turning to you. He clearly had a hard time understanding that you could be friends, but he didn't know Javi like you did, didn't know what he hid beneath his player’s attitude — the most reliable, protective, funniest friend. So emotionally smart that he blew your mind many times by reading people.
“Javi is… Javi,” you answered firmly. “We've been friends for a long time and I love him for being so open minded, for always being there for me, as I hope I am for him. So yeah, it’s ok. I fuck him happily, too, by the way.”
You couldn't help being harsh, your protective instinct towards your best friend taking over.
“Yeah, you do, baby,” Javi agreed, his smile cocky after hearing your words, checking you out openly before turning back to Joel. “You know what? I think you could be turned on in 2 minutes, if you saw what I’d do to her.”
You expected Joel to tell him to fuck off. You really did. But you realized it wouldn’t happen when you felt the atmosphere in the room change, becoming electric and sticky, and the smirk on Javi’s face showed that he felt it too.
"I’d kiss her the way she likes to be kissed,” he started to say, eyes fixed on yours. “I’d lick her lips to tease her and I’d feel her breathing quicken. I’d rub my cock against her because she loves to feel me getting hard. And then I’d push her against this table, right here, and I’d know, just by looking at her, if she wanted me to eat her out or to split her open. I’d watch her tits bounce while I fucked her hard and deep. And then I’d make her come on my cock, feeling her squeeze it hard. Feeling her shake. She’d make those little moans that I fed on. And I’d fill her with my cum, because I love to know it would ruin her panties and that each drop would remind her how good I fucked her.”
When he stopped talking, only the squeaking of his leather could be heard in the room. You took a deep breath, swallowed hard and resisted the urge to rush to him. To kiss him. To grab his ass and hold him against you, to feel his hardness.
“Shit…” Joel gruffed, putting his hands on his hips, his stare moving from Javi to you. You were soaked, a drooling mess, in the room with the two men, not knowing what to expect in that moment.
“I guess I was right about turning you on in no time. So, Joel… are you gonna watch me do it all by myself, or you gonna join me?”
Joel turned towards you and asked “you’re ok with it?”
“Yeah... Yes, I am. If you are, too.”
“Alright, then.”
“Come here, baby. Let’s show him how good we are at this.” Javi reached out his hand to you and you took it. He let his leather jacket fall onto the floor, revealing his chest covered by a black t-shirt, and you brushed his pecs.
“Bet you’re already droolin’ for me, after hearing this,” Javi uttered against the crease of your neck, but loud enough for Joel to hear. He smiled, feeling you shiver, running his long, thick fingers down your arms, the fingers that made you come so many times.
You could feel Joel's gaze on both of you. You wondered if he was hard. If he wanted to keep watching or if he wanted to join you. You heard him growl and your pussy clenched with need of being filled.
You smiled back at Javi. He was right, you two were good at this. Everything was so easy, so known, so healthy, your bodies speaking their own native language without words being necessary. Even though Javi loved to express his feelings, it was always just a bonus. That always made you even hornier.
“Yeah… and I bet you’re already hard for me,” you replied, brushing his cheek with your digits, looking at his beautiful face. You loved every single inch of that man, every cell of his body and brain.
“Damn right, I am.”
You kissed his torso after taking off his t-shirt, his hand wrapped around the back of your neck.
You loved his scent, the softness of his skin, its taste. And you loved his innate impatience, slightly restrained with tenderness when his hands were on you.
It could have been so easy to forget that someone else was there at that moment, but not when it was Joel. When you looked at him, he understood the unspoken, pulled his shirt off and moved closer, urging you to tilt your face up with his fingers. You kissed him, finally feeling his warm, plushy lips on yours, still pressed against Javi, who kissed your neck then lingered on it with his moustache, and your eyes closed in pleasure under their embrace.
Javi slid behind you, roamed your body with his hands from your hips to your breasts, while you were making out with Joel.
Javi slowly undressed you, then brushed your wet folds with his fingers and pressed his hard-on against your ass. Your legs weakened and you squeezed Joel's t-shirt with your fist, holding on to it. For the thousandth time since the beginning of your friendship, you told yourself that Javi was a sweet menace, the definition of sensuality and a call to sin. You were lucky to have a special place in his life.
“Feel it?”
“Hard to miss it, Javi,” you tried to chuckle, but moaned instead when your friend’s fingers caressed your cunt and Joel pushed his tongue into your mouth, his hands on your waist, his crotch pressing against you, too.
“Oh god,” you whined, as a part of you wondered if it was all a dream, if you were going to wake up soaked and alone in your bed.
Javi nibbled on your shoulder, and the slight pain confirmed it was real, you were really standing between these two men. You sighed with pleasure and kissed Joel again, your hand cupping his hard cock in his jeans.
“I love when you’re dripping for me… for us,” Javi murmured in your ear, pushing a digit in your drooling heat. “Are you into men, too, Joel?” he asked, kissing your shoulder then your neck.
“It’s been a while since the last time, but… Yeah.”
“Good. ‘cause you’re fucking hot,” your friend said, grabbing the back of Joel’s neck and crushing his lips against his over your shoulder, flooding your underwear with a new wave of arousal. You kissed Joel's cheek as they were making out, until your tongue gravitated to theirs.
“I understand why you’re so into him, baby,” Javi breathed out, parting from you two.
You locked eyes with Joel and felt heat reaching your cheeks when he smiled. Javi had many qualities, but subtlety was not one of them.
“Where’s your bedroom, Joel?”
“Over there,” he replied, leading the way.
Javi took your hand when you walked through the door, and led you to the bed as if it were his own room. He lay down on it, pulled you towards him, and Joel followed. You three began kissing, lips crushing on others in a hot dance, until Javi took your nipple in his mouth, sucked and nibbled on it gently, making you moan into Joel's mouth.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” he growled, slidding his palm to your crotch, and you pushed your hips upward to relieve the pressure that was driving you crazy. He chuckled against your lips, his fingers gliding easily over your soaked folds.
Javi sat up to push your knees apart and leaned down to kiss your inner thighs, his lips getting closer and closer to Joel's fingers buried in your pussy. He licked your folds and the other man's fingers, before sucking on your clit.
His tongue played with your cunt, moving up and down, pushing in between the digits.
“It’s turning you on, baby, having your pussy eaten right in front of your ex?” he teased, making your whole body tremble as you whimpered against Joel’s neck.
"He’s right. You’re soaking my fingers, sweetheart," the man chuckled, but his breath suddenly hitched when Javi cupped his bulge. He kissed your stomach and straightened up, and you were about to beg him to go down on you again when Javi unbelted your ex’s jeans and took off his clothes just like he did with yours. Javi let out a slow whistle, one eyebrow raised, appreciating the sight of Joel's naked body.
Joel's hard cock was twitching against his lower abdomen, its red tip oozing. His massive balls rested against his broad thighs. How many times had you stared at his body, just like Javi in that moment, your mouth suddenly dry at the sight of him?
Your clit throbbed, as Javi’s face was inches from Joel’s shaft. They were the most gorgeous men you had ever seen, and you wanted them to feel good. So you watched, mesmerised, your fingers replacing Joel’s in your cunt and then fucking you slowly.
“Well shit, Joel… I really wanna suck your dick, now,” Javi said looking up at him, making sure that Joel was into it.
“Go ahead.”
Javi spat in his hand and started jerking your ex off, smearing the precum with his thumb. When Javi took him in the mouth and his head began bobbing on his shaft, Joel quickly muttered a set of “fuck” and “shit,” one hand placed on the back of Javi’s neck, the other clenching the sheets.
Your fingers were moving back and forth between your folds, your empty pussy drooling on the bed, but you didn’t care about it, focusing only on the two men lying right beside you.
The glance Javi gave you looked like an invitation and you leaned down to lick Joel’s balls at first, then under them, where the skin was so delicate, and Javi moved them up to give you full access. His saliva flowed down to your throat when you took them in your mouth then licked the thick shaft. You took turns sucking Joel off, tangling your tongues on the way, turning your ex into a needy, whimpering and grunting mess.
“You’re so fucking pretty, baby, you know that?” Javi told you and the corners of your lips rose up as the flat of your tongue was moving up to Joel’s tip. "It's time to take care of you," he added, pushing you onto your back and lying down next to you. “Want you to come on his tongue.”
A strand of his hair fell on his forehead and you played with it a little, savoring your special closeness once again, grateful to know his tender side. He always looked at you as if you were the only woman he would always come back to, without ever asking for anything in return. You brushed his cheek and your thumb lingered on his lips. He was beautiful.
“You’re gonna make me really jealous,” Joel growled, pushing your thighs wide apart. His broad shoulders settled into your favorite place and Javi kissed the corner of your lips, listening to your moans when Joel let his saliva slide from his lips to your pussy.
You nibbled on Javi's lip when Joel grasped the back of your thighs and pushed them toward your chest to open you fully for him. He dragged his tongue over your soaked folds, reaching your throbbing clit. You squeezed Javi's biceps when his hand moved south, and you heard a sucking sound. A single thought of Javi’s finger between Joel’s lips, the sensuality of it, made you melt and you shivered when Javi brushed your bud softly with his wet digit while Joel was lapping at your cunt. You were feeling dizzy, limbs limp under their fingers and mouths, reduced to a moaning, weak mess between the two men who wanted you to feel good, too.
You clinged to Javi, lulled by his praise, half in English, half in Spanish, and then you came hard, your hips rocking towards the men, moaning into Javi’s neck who kept telling you, “you’re ok, baby, you’re ok. We got you,” until you stopped shaking.
Your friend stood up and lit a cigarette when Joel crawled up your body and lay between your thighs. His gaze on you was soft. You loved feeling his weight again, his arms wrapped around you, creating a bubble where you always felt safe. You took his cock and nestled it at your entrance, just to make him push your folds apart with his fat tip. Just to feel him again.
“You missed him, baby? Missed my cock? That's why you planned that restaurant thing?”
“Yeah, I missed him. Missed having you.”
“Oh, sweetheart, you know… I didn't back up because I didn't want you anymore. I backed up because I liked you too much.”
His eyes fixed on you were still warm but gradually they filled up with fire and intensity when he pushed inside you and didn’t stop until he bottomed out, the stretch making you whimper. You kissed him to forget about all the questions swirling in your mind, at least for a moment.
“OI! love birds? My dick's gonna get limp as fuck if you keep up this soft shit, jeez…” Javi grumbled, discarding his jeans and sitting against the headboard, cigarette between his lips. He was shameless, his gorgeous cock hard against his lower belly, wriggling as if begging for your lips. It was massive, too, in the same proportions as Joel's, and you couldn't believe how lucky you were to have those two men with you right now.
“Commando… Why am I not surprised?” Joel smirked before looking back at you. “Wanna take care of him while I’m fucking you, baby?”
Your mischievous smile shifted to Javi. Yeah, you wanted to take care of him, wanted them both inside you.
“Hands and knees for me, then.”
You put yourself on all fours and ran your tongue over Javi's shaft, pushing your ass out, allowing Joel to align himself and thrust in, as you took Javi into your mouth.
“Fuck, I missed your cunt, baby. You have no idea.” He pumped his cock in and out, clinging at your hips, his massive balls slapping against your clit with every thrust. He was going deep, and he was doing it slowly, to make you feel every inch of his cock.
You moaned, Javi’s tip between your lips, and he caressed your cheek, his ridiculously handsome face tilted down to you.
“You’re so fucking pretty, your mouth full of my cock. Pussy full of his. You’re doing so good, baby.”
His praise bewitched you, as Joel dug his fingers into your hips, holding you as he wished, rolling his hips against your ass.
“Tell me how it feels.”
You licked his shaft again, before stuttering “g- good. Fucking… good.”
“He’s big, right? I bet he’s stretching your little cunt wide open with his big dick.”
“Yeah… yeah, oh fuck!! He’s… he’s so big, Javi. You should… maybe you should try him.”
He smiled and looked at Joel. “If he’s able to leave this perfect hole to let me fill it, and if he wants to… why not?”
“Oh I want to, Javi. Lemme just…- oh, sweetheart, fuck! Easy, baby…. you’re squeezing me so hard, fuck… lemme just fuck her a little more,” Joel panted.
Javi slid beneath you until his body was aligned with yours, and Joel adjusted the position but didn’t stop pushing in. Your pussy was rubbing against Javi’s shaft, as you were licking at his lips, his tongue until your groans increased.
“You’re gonna come like that baby? Gonna give us another one?”
“Yeah,” you murmured, brushing your throbbing clit against him, covering him with your wetness that was dripping non-stop.
“F… fuck, Joel…” you breathed, eyes closed.
“Come on, baby, soak me. Lemme take my turn with you.” You moaned at the idea of them taking turns between your thighs, and clenched on Joel’s shaft, still humping against Javi.
“Oh fuck!! Fuck, fuck… I gotta… fuck I gotta pull out, shit…” Joel said, almost whimpering, hands still gripping your flesh, hips still thrusting in and out, before he finally pulled out.
“You're ok?”
“Yeah, yeah, fuck…. I… fuck…”
“Lay on your back for me, baby. We’re not done with you.”
You shifted position and watched Joel open his nightstand drawer, pull out a tube and coat his cock with the lube.
Javi lay between your legs, his head diving in to lick a long stripe between your folds, making him growl and mumble. “You taste like him. Always taste so fucking good, but I love to taste him on your cunt.”
“J… Javi,” you stummered, voice weak.
“Tell me,” he whispered, nose grinding against your clit, tongue fucking your dripping hole.
“Too… too much…”
“Really?” he smirked. “Why are you rubbing against me then?”
“I… fuck…” You grabbed his head, pulling him closer, the exquisite blend of mild pain and pleasure mingling together.
Joel's broad body appeared behind him, and your friend groaned at the touch of the lube-covered finger.
“Give him one more, sweetheart. You know you can give us more.”
Javi's grunting between your folds increased. You wondered how many fingers Joel was pushing in. One? Two? Another orgasm built in your core at the thought, your fingers digging into Javi's scalp, and you rolled your hips even harder than 10 seconds before.
“You’re so close, so fucking gorgeous like that. Wide open for us.”
His praise made you come on Javi’s tongue, tears streaming from the corners of your eyes onto the pillow. Javi crawled up to you, eyes dark, hair disheveled, drunk on your juices. He slid his tip along your folds, all the way to your clit and you shuddered at this new overstimulation, spreading your thighs wide, giving him full access. He pushed in and you felt whole again. Filled like you needed to be.
“Fuck… always so fucking perfect for me. So wet. He fucked you real good, didn’t he?”
“Yeah, he always does. You liked watching me getting fucked, Javi?”
He didn't respond right away, feeling Joel kneel behind him. “Answer her,” your ex said in a low, velvety voice.
“I loved it. Loved to see you fall apart in my arms. Loved to see you take it, how breathless you were.”
“You’re gonna be breathless too, soon,” you said when Joel placed one hand on Javi's hip.
“You want me there, Javi?”
“Shit, yeah,” he groaned and Joel pushed in slowly, making room for his cock.
“Kiss me. Kiss me. Let me feel you fall apart, too.”
“Oh fuck…”
“I know, baby, I know. You’re gonna feel so good soon. Let him in. Let him in, Javi.”
You knew that Joel bottomed out when Javi did the same inside you, driven by Joel's pace, his body quivering and shaking.
“Feel good?”
“Fuck… yeah. Shit.”
Joel picked up the pace, his eyes fixed on you. Yours were moving from one man to the other.
“You’re gonna come, Javi? Gonna fill my cunt?”
He nodded, unable to answer, his face twisted with pleasure. Joel's broad shoulders tensed, while his hands gripped Javi harder. One on his hip, the other on his shoulder for leverage. Javi was thrusting into you at the same pace Joel was sinking into him. You licked Javi's neck before nibbling on his earlobe.
“Babe…” he whined.
“Give it to me, Javi,” you said, eyes fixed on Joel.
“Fuck! I’m gonna come….”
Javi moaned as his cum coated your walls, and didn’t stop humping you until you milked his cock to the last drop, the jolts of his body beneath your fingers and between your thighs then slowing down before they stopped.
Joel was chasing his climax, thrusting hard and deep, hands on Javi’s hips. His jaw clenched and his body tensed, the veins in his neck bulging, as he threw his head back in pleasure when he bottomed out one last time. He froze, groaning, his large hand gripping Javi's shoulder tightly.
“Fuck,” Javi groaned, before they pulled out and plopped on the bed, Javi between the two of you. You were catching your breaths, bodies covered in sweat.
“See? Told you to trust me, baby, there at the restaurant,” Javi smiled and raised his arm for you to curl up against him.
“I’m glad I did,” you said before kissing his chest.
Your hand brushed Javi’s belly then reached Joel, and grabbed his side. He smiled at you.
You didn't know what your future held with those two men, but the weekend was just beginning.
More Javi x reader x Joel: Blackmail series (different AU)
Thank you for reading 🙏
Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️
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@littlemisspascal @pascalsanctuary
npt: tagging those who showed interest in the wip wednesday posts ❤️
OMG the reader getting freaky with the two sexiest texans to ever roam this earth at the same time with a side of jealous joel is absolutely STUNNING!!! 🥵🫠🔥
the reader is the luckiest girl in the wooooorld, cheeky javi and jealous joel were absolutely delicious!! thank YOUUU my darling milla for sharing your immense talent with all of us!!! 😍🥰😘
5k0 | Joel Miller x Javier Peña x fem reader | ao3 | masterlist
Summary: your longtime friend, Javi, helps you make your ex jealous
Warnings: 18+ mdni. Threesome mmf (Javi and Joel are bi), pet names (baby, sweetheart), oral (f/m), spit roasting, spitting, light overstimulation, praise kink, size kink, piv, anal, creampies. No age specified
Javi is cheeky, flirtatious and a menace, Joel is a little grumpy but mostly calm and settled because I love this dynamic between the two of them. For this story, let's imagine it’s possible to smoke in a restaurant 🙏 (because Javi’s hot when he’s a sassy smoker 😌)
a/n: this is written for @mothandpidgeon @schnarfer and @whocaresstillthelouvre ‘s Magic number writing challenge (masterlist) I asked for a prompt and Al gave me "fake relationship." As a lover of threesome fics, thank you so much for this challenge 🙏❤️
Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing me 😘💕 dividers @/saradika-graphics 🙏
Happy pride 🌈
“Can I ask you a favor, Javi?”
“Sure.” His quick reply was proof of your friendship and mutual trust, if any were needed. “Shoot, baby,” he added, already impatient. He was always on the move, both physically and mentally, he didn't like to settle down and take time for himself, which he wouldn't have known what to do with anyway. And he was always curious to know more about you.
“Would you help me make a man jealous?”
And above all, Javi was a player. So he smiled and replied, his eyebrow raised, “Absolutely.”
Joel and you had never really been official. You never had dinners with friends or family, you only spent some time together. Time that extended more and more in the last months, turning into nights spent at his place or yours. Or into lazy weekends where you barely got out of bed all day, your sweaty bodies heated by the sun rays streaming into the room. Until the night came and the moonlight took over.
You should have seen it coming, though. Joel had always been clear that he didn't want to be in a relationship. And maybe the bond between you was becoming too heavy for his liking.
However, when the “unofficial” ended, everything felt hollow. Not only because he was probably one of the most perfect guys you had met, attentive and soft, but taking charge when you needed him to. Or because you loved the way he wrapped his arm around your shoulder or your waist when you were walking side by side, showing his inner natural protectiveness. Life lost its color because the physical need of him was starting to eat you alive.
Now that you weren’t a “thing” anymore, Joel was always on your mind. Especially when you were touching yourself in your bed that still smelled like him, your pussy begging for his cock.
You had a hard time accepting that you were probably the only one feeling that need, considering he was the one that had ended it.
So when you learnt from a mutual acquaintance that Joel was having dinner at the restaurant next to his house on Friday night, you didn’t hesitate to involve Javi.
Javi and you were good friends. Friends with benefits, even, when you weren’t in a relationship, or in something “unofficial”.
Javi, on the other hand, was never in a relationship, it wasn’t his thing. He loved to be free.
You never fell in love with him, probably because you didn't want to be on his long list of heartbroken conquests. Javi always had a different woman on his arm, or a different man to hang out with. He was charming, sensual, full of self confidence, a “go with the flow” type. The most beautiful butterfly. It was out of the question for you to be charmed by the colors of his wings.
You were both ok with the special place you had for each other, and you loved to walk by his side, your arm around his slim waist, his around your shoulder, as if he was your boyfriend and you were his girl. You loved to feel envious glances of women on you in the streets, as Javi threw his both nonchalant and cunty look at them, before kissing your neck to tease them. They would ogle at him, lingering on his black leather jacket, the smell of which you loved so much, and his tight jeans that couldn’t hide the size of the cock resting there. But you were the one he took home to make you come as much as you needed to, until you were panting on the bed while he’d lit a post-sex cigarette. His gaze on you was always soft, tender and sweet when he would kiss your forehead. This was your Javi.
The men's gazes on him weren’t different, and you were amused when some of them had to readjust themselves after an eye-fucking session with Javi. Then he’d just point his chin the bar's bathroom, and they’d join him there.
He was a free spirit, he didn't hide it, and you loved it about him.
On Friday night, shortly before Joel was supposed to arrive, you and Javi were already at the restaurant, the table strategically chosen so Javi could watch the front door and the whole room.
“Late forties, slightly gray hair, ungroomed salt and pepper beard, broad ass shoulders, old green flannel, grumpy type?” Javi asked after you heard the door open, a few minutes later.
“Yep, that's him,” you answered.
Javi's smile widened. “Oh, this is gonna be fun,” he chuckled. “You didn't tell me he was that hot.”
Your dishes had just been served when Javi huffed “Ok, he bit. Did a double take at us and he doesn’t seem happy,” he smirked. He was way too good at this. Sassy. “I wonder how long it’ll take before he joins us.”
“What? Oh no, I don’t think he’ll do that,” you said, shaking your head.
“Oh, baby… wanna bet?”
You didn’t answer. You just hoped to get on Joel’s nerves a little with this fake date, and hadn’t really imagined he would go that far, but Javi seemed so sure of himself that you had some doubts now.
“Shit, he put the ketchup down on the table so hard I thought the cap was going to pop,” he laughed, unable to hide his amusement, as the idea of Joel being jealous pleased you.
“Ok, let’s tease him a little,” Javi added before wrapping his hand around yours.
“Javi!” you whispered, frowning, but he squeezed your hand, not letting you escape his grip, and looked at you with soft eyes. “Let me deal with it, baby, ok? That’s why you wanted me here, so trust me.”
You heard a loud chair scraping against the floor and then felt Joel’s presence near you. He sat down in the booth, looking at you first, then at Javi.
“Joel?” you said, your voice shaky, unable to hide your surprise at his bad mood. That wasn’t exactly like him. He tried to smile at you but it didn’t really reach his eyes, then turned to Javi, and grumbled “You are?”
“Javi, nice to meet you….?” he replied, waiting for Joel to say his name, smiling and full of charm, in total opposition to Joel's attitude.
“Joel.”
“Well, nice to meet you, Joel,” he said, before lighting a cigarette. “D'ya need some help?”
Javi's audacity was leaving you speechless as your gaze shifted from one man to the other.
“No I don't. Just wanted to say hi to my friend.”
“You seem too upset for someone who just wanted to say hi to a friend. Don’t you?” He took a drag and blew it towards Joel. “So why don't you stop bullshitting us and tell us why you're here? Because from the way I see it, you look jealous, Joel.”
He was so full of self-confidence, showing no hesitation, no wavering, his eyes fixed on Joel. You on the other hand... you wish you had the ability to snap your fingers and disappear instantly.
You looked at Joel, who surprisingly had a smile on his face. He was calm, unimpressed, his inner self finally back after this tensed introduction. You relaxed a little, as the pressure left your shoulders.
“You’re gonna tell me what this all is about, sweetheart?” he said softly, turning his gaze towards you. “Because if this guy was really a date… if you didn’t know him, I know you’d tell him to fuck off.”
Javi laughed, always confident in any situation. You, not so much, knowing that Joel had already figured it all out. You sighed, before answering “Javi’s a friend.”
“How much of a friend?”
“A good friend.”
“A good friend,” Joel repeated. “Ok. And you're both here by pure coincidence, or...?”
You looked down at your plate, unsure of how to respond. Being honest and implicitly admitting that you were not over the "ending", or lying. You were lost in your thoughts, knowing that the longer you took to respond, the more obvious the answer was.
You still didn't know what to say when Javi stepped in to help you.
"Oh come on man, stop torturing her."
Joel locked eyes with you as if he was crawling into your soul to find the answers. He frowned seeing what was there, a concern in his expression.
"Wanna come to my place? To talk about it?"
You hesitated. A part of you was glad that he was taking your emotions into account, even if they hadn't been expressed. You looked at Javi and asked him if he could join you, support you if needed, and help you gain perspective. When he nodded, you asked Joel if he was okay with that.
"Sure, sweetheart."
Once at Joel's, he offered you a drink and you all remained silent, until Javi rolled his eyes.
“Jesus, d’ya need me to be your matchmaker or what? What’s wrong with the two of you? But mostly, what’s wrong with you, man?”
“What is wrong with me? What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact that I happily fuck her each times she calls me. And I’d happily fuck her right now. So what’s your problem?”
“You let him talk about you like this?” Joel asked, turning to you. He clearly had a hard time understanding that you could be friends, but he didn't know Javi like you did, didn't know what he hid beneath his player’s attitude — the most reliable, protective, funniest friend. So emotionally smart that he blew your mind many times by reading people.
“Javi is… Javi,” you answered firmly. “We've been friends for a long time and I love him for being so open minded, for always being there for me, as I hope I am for him. So yeah, it’s ok. I fuck him happily, too, by the way.”
You couldn't help being harsh, your protective instinct towards your best friend taking over.
“Yeah, you do, baby,” Javi agreed, his smile cocky after hearing your words, checking you out openly before turning back to Joel. “You know what? I think you could be turned on in 2 minutes, if you saw what I’d do to her.”
You expected Joel to tell him to fuck off. You really did. But you realized it wouldn’t happen when you felt the atmosphere in the room change, becoming electric and sticky, and the smirk on Javi’s face showed that he felt it too.
"I’d kiss her the way she likes to be kissed,” he started to say, eyes fixed on yours. “I’d lick her lips to tease her and I’d feel her breathing quicken. I’d rub my cock against her because she loves to feel me getting hard. And then I’d push her against this table, right here, and I’d know, just by looking at her, if she wanted me to eat her out or to split her open. I’d watch her tits bounce while I fucked her hard and deep. And then I’d make her come on my cock, feeling her squeeze it hard. Feeling her shake. She’d make those little moans that I fed on. And I’d fill her with my cum, because I love to know it would ruin her panties and that each drop would remind her how good I fucked her.”
When he stopped talking, only the squeaking of his leather could be heard in the room. You took a deep breath, swallowed hard and resisted the urge to rush to him. To kiss him. To grab his ass and hold him against you, to feel his hardness.
“Shit…” Joel gruffed, putting his hands on his hips, his stare moving from Javi to you. You were soaked, a drooling mess, in the room with the two men, not knowing what to expect in that moment.
“I guess I was right about turning you on in no time. So, Joel… are you gonna watch me do it all by myself, or you gonna join me?”
Joel turned towards you and asked “you’re ok with it?”
“Yeah... Yes, I am. If you are, too.”
“Alright, then.”
“Come here, baby. Let’s show him how good we are at this.” Javi reached out his hand to you and you took it. He let his leather jacket fall onto the floor, revealing his chest covered by a black t-shirt, and you brushed his pecs.
“Bet you’re already droolin’ for me, after hearing this,” Javi uttered against the crease of your neck, but loud enough for Joel to hear. He smiled, feeling you shiver, running his long, thick fingers down your arms, the fingers that made you come so many times.
You could feel Joel's gaze on both of you. You wondered if he was hard. If he wanted to keep watching or if he wanted to join you. You heard him growl and your pussy clenched with need of being filled.
You smiled back at Javi. He was right, you two were good at this. Everything was so easy, so known, so healthy, your bodies speaking their own native language without words being necessary. Even though Javi loved to express his feelings, it was always just a bonus. That always made you even hornier.
“Yeah… and I bet you’re already hard for me,” you replied, brushing his cheek with your digits, looking at his beautiful face. You loved every single inch of that man, every cell of his body and brain.
“Damn right, I am.”
You kissed his torso after taking off his t-shirt, his hand wrapped around the back of your neck.
You loved his scent, the softness of his skin, its taste. And you loved his innate impatience, slightly restrained with tenderness when his hands were on you.
It could have been so easy to forget that someone else was there at that moment, but not when it was Joel. When you looked at him, he understood the unspoken, pulled his shirt off and moved closer, urging you to tilt your face up with his fingers. You kissed him, finally feeling his warm, plushy lips on yours, still pressed against Javi, who kissed your neck then lingered on it with his moustache, and your eyes closed in pleasure under their embrace.
Javi slid behind you, roamed your body with his hands from your hips to your breasts, while you were making out with Joel.
Javi slowly undressed you, then brushed your wet folds with his fingers and pressed his hard-on against your ass. Your legs weakened and you squeezed Joel's t-shirt with your fist, holding on to it. For the thousandth time since the beginning of your friendship, you told yourself that Javi was a sweet menace, the definition of sensuality and a call to sin. You were lucky to have a special place in his life.
“Feel it?”
“Hard to miss it, Javi,” you tried to chuckle, but moaned instead when your friend’s fingers caressed your cunt and Joel pushed his tongue into your mouth, his hands on your waist, his crotch pressing against you, too.
“Oh god,” you whined, as a part of you wondered if it was all a dream, if you were going to wake up soaked and alone in your bed.
Javi nibbled on your shoulder, and the slight pain confirmed it was real, you were really standing between these two men. You sighed with pleasure and kissed Joel again, your hand cupping his hard cock in his jeans.
“I love when you’re dripping for me… for us,” Javi murmured in your ear, pushing a digit in your drooling heat. “Are you into men, too, Joel?” he asked, kissing your shoulder then your neck.
“It’s been a while since the last time, but… Yeah.”
“Good. ‘cause you’re fucking hot,” your friend said, grabbing the back of Joel’s neck and crushing his lips against his over your shoulder, flooding your underwear with a new wave of arousal. You kissed Joel's cheek as they were making out, until your tongue gravitated to theirs.
“I understand why you’re so into him, baby,” Javi breathed out, parting from you two.
You locked eyes with Joel and felt heat reaching your cheeks when he smiled. Javi had many qualities, but subtlety was not one of them.
“Where’s your bedroom, Joel?”
“Over there,” he replied, leading the way.
Javi took your hand when you walked through the door, and led you to the bed as if it were his own room. He lay down on it, pulled you towards him, and Joel followed. You three began kissing, lips crushing on others in a hot dance, until Javi took your nipple in his mouth, sucked and nibbled on it gently, making you moan into Joel's mouth.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” he growled, slidding his palm to your crotch, and you pushed your hips upward to relieve the pressure that was driving you crazy. He chuckled against your lips, his fingers gliding easily over your soaked folds.
Javi sat up to push your knees apart and leaned down to kiss your inner thighs, his lips getting closer and closer to Joel's fingers buried in your pussy. He licked your folds and the other man's fingers, before sucking on your clit.
His tongue played with your cunt, moving up and down, pushing in between the digits.
“It’s turning you on, baby, having your pussy eaten right in front of your ex?” he teased, making your whole body tremble as you whimpered against Joel’s neck.
"He’s right. You’re soaking my fingers, sweetheart," the man chuckled, but his breath suddenly hitched when Javi cupped his bulge. He kissed your stomach and straightened up, and you were about to beg him to go down on you again when Javi unbelted your ex’s jeans and took off his clothes just like he did with yours. Javi let out a slow whistle, one eyebrow raised, appreciating the sight of Joel's naked body.
Joel's hard cock was twitching against his lower abdomen, its red tip oozing. His massive balls rested against his broad thighs. How many times had you stared at his body, just like Javi in that moment, your mouth suddenly dry at the sight of him?
Your clit throbbed, as Javi’s face was inches from Joel’s shaft. They were the most gorgeous men you had ever seen, and you wanted them to feel good. So you watched, mesmerised, your fingers replacing Joel’s in your cunt and then fucking you slowly.
“Well shit, Joel… I really wanna suck your dick, now,” Javi said looking up at him, making sure that Joel was into it.
“Go ahead.”
Javi spat in his hand and started jerking your ex off, smearing the precum with his thumb. When Javi took him in the mouth and his head began bobbing on his shaft, Joel quickly muttered a set of “fuck” and “shit,” one hand placed on the back of Javi’s neck, the other clenching the sheets.
Your fingers were moving back and forth between your folds, your empty pussy drooling on the bed, but you didn’t care about it, focusing only on the two men lying right beside you.
The glance Javi gave you looked like an invitation and you leaned down to lick Joel’s balls at first, then under them, where the skin was so delicate, and Javi moved them up to give you full access. His saliva flowed down to your throat when you took them in your mouth then licked the thick shaft. You took turns sucking Joel off, tangling your tongues on the way, turning your ex into a needy, whimpering and grunting mess.
“You’re so fucking pretty, baby, you know that?” Javi told you and the corners of your lips rose up as the flat of your tongue was moving up to Joel’s tip. "It's time to take care of you," he added, pushing you onto your back and lying down next to you. “Want you to come on his tongue.”
A strand of his hair fell on his forehead and you played with it a little, savoring your special closeness once again, grateful to know his tender side. He always looked at you as if you were the only woman he would always come back to, without ever asking for anything in return. You brushed his cheek and your thumb lingered on his lips. He was beautiful.
“You’re gonna make me really jealous,” Joel growled, pushing your thighs wide apart. His broad shoulders settled into your favorite place and Javi kissed the corner of your lips, listening to your moans when Joel let his saliva slide from his lips to your pussy.
You nibbled on Javi's lip when Joel grasped the back of your thighs and pushed them toward your chest to open you fully for him. He dragged his tongue over your soaked folds, reaching your throbbing clit. You squeezed Javi's biceps when his hand moved south, and you heard a sucking sound. A single thought of Javi’s finger between Joel’s lips, the sensuality of it, made you melt and you shivered when Javi brushed your bud softly with his wet digit while Joel was lapping at your cunt. You were feeling dizzy, limbs limp under their fingers and mouths, reduced to a moaning, weak mess between the two men who wanted you to feel good, too.
You clinged to Javi, lulled by his praise, half in English, half in Spanish, and then you came hard, your hips rocking towards the men, moaning into Javi’s neck who kept telling you, “you’re ok, baby, you’re ok. We got you,” until you stopped shaking.
Your friend stood up and lit a cigarette when Joel crawled up your body and lay between your thighs. His gaze on you was soft. You loved feeling his weight again, his arms wrapped around you, creating a bubble where you always felt safe. You took his cock and nestled it at your entrance, just to make him push your folds apart with his fat tip. Just to feel him again.
“You missed him, baby? Missed my cock? That's why you planned that restaurant thing?”
“Yeah, I missed him. Missed having you.”
“Oh, sweetheart, you know… I didn't back up because I didn't want you anymore. I backed up because I liked you too much.”
His eyes fixed on you were still warm but gradually they filled up with fire and intensity when he pushed inside you and didn’t stop until he bottomed out, the stretch making you whimper. You kissed him to forget about all the questions swirling in your mind, at least for a moment.
“OI! love birds? My dick's gonna get limp as fuck if you keep up this soft shit, jeez…” Javi grumbled, discarding his jeans and sitting against the headboard, cigarette between his lips. He was shameless, his gorgeous cock hard against his lower belly, wriggling as if begging for your lips. It was massive, too, in the same proportions as Joel's, and you couldn't believe how lucky you were to have those two men with you right now.
“Commando… Why am I not surprised?” Joel smirked before looking back at you. “Wanna take care of him while I’m fucking you, baby?”
Your mischievous smile shifted to Javi. Yeah, you wanted to take care of him, wanted them both inside you.
“Hands and knees for me, then.”
You put yourself on all fours and ran your tongue over Javi's shaft, pushing your ass out, allowing Joel to align himself and thrust in, as you took Javi into your mouth.
“Fuck, I missed your cunt, baby. You have no idea.” He pumped his cock in and out, clinging at your hips, his massive balls slapping against your clit with every thrust. He was going deep, and he was doing it slowly, to make you feel every inch of his cock.
You moaned, Javi’s tip between your lips, and he caressed your cheek, his ridiculously handsome face tilted down to you.
“You’re so fucking pretty, your mouth full of my cock. Pussy full of his. You’re doing so good, baby.”
His praise bewitched you, as Joel dug his fingers into your hips, holding you as he wished, rolling his hips against your ass.
“Tell me how it feels.”
You licked his shaft again, before stuttering “g- good. Fucking… good.”
“He’s big, right? I bet he’s stretching your little cunt wide open with his big dick.”
“Yeah… yeah, oh fuck!! He’s… he’s so big, Javi. You should… maybe you should try him.”
He smiled and looked at Joel. “If he’s able to leave this perfect hole to let me fill it, and if he wants to… why not?”
“Oh I want to, Javi. Lemme just…- oh, sweetheart, fuck! Easy, baby…. you’re squeezing me so hard, fuck… lemme just fuck her a little more,” Joel panted.
Javi slid beneath you until his body was aligned with yours, and Joel adjusted the position but didn’t stop pushing in. Your pussy was rubbing against Javi’s shaft, as you were licking at his lips, his tongue until your groans increased.
“You’re gonna come like that baby? Gonna give us another one?”
“Yeah,” you murmured, brushing your throbbing clit against him, covering him with your wetness that was dripping non-stop.
“F… fuck, Joel…” you breathed, eyes closed.
“Come on, baby, soak me. Lemme take my turn with you.” You moaned at the idea of them taking turns between your thighs, and clenched on Joel’s shaft, still humping against Javi.
“Oh fuck!! Fuck, fuck… I gotta… fuck I gotta pull out, shit…” Joel said, almost whimpering, hands still gripping your flesh, hips still thrusting in and out, before he finally pulled out.
“You're ok?”
“Yeah, yeah, fuck…. I… fuck…”
“Lay on your back for me, baby. We’re not done with you.”
You shifted position and watched Joel open his nightstand drawer, pull out a tube and coat his cock with the lube.
Javi lay between your legs, his head diving in to lick a long stripe between your folds, making him growl and mumble. “You taste like him. Always taste so fucking good, but I love to taste him on your cunt.”
“J… Javi,” you stummered, voice weak.
“Tell me,” he whispered, nose grinding against your clit, tongue fucking your dripping hole.
“Too… too much…”
“Really?” he smirked. “Why are you rubbing against me then?”
“I… fuck…” You grabbed his head, pulling him closer, the exquisite blend of mild pain and pleasure mingling together.
Joel's broad body appeared behind him, and your friend groaned at the touch of the lube-covered finger.
“Give him one more, sweetheart. You know you can give us more.”
Javi's grunting between your folds increased. You wondered how many fingers Joel was pushing in. One? Two? Another orgasm built in your core at the thought, your fingers digging into Javi's scalp, and you rolled your hips even harder than 10 seconds before.
“You’re so close, so fucking gorgeous like that. Wide open for us.”
His praise made you come on Javi’s tongue, tears streaming from the corners of your eyes onto the pillow. Javi crawled up to you, eyes dark, hair disheveled, drunk on your juices. He slid his tip along your folds, all the way to your clit and you shuddered at this new overstimulation, spreading your thighs wide, giving him full access. He pushed in and you felt whole again. Filled like you needed to be.
“Fuck… always so fucking perfect for me. So wet. He fucked you real good, didn’t he?”
“Yeah, he always does. You liked watching me getting fucked, Javi?”
He didn't respond right away, feeling Joel kneel behind him. “Answer her,” your ex said in a low, velvety voice.
“I loved it. Loved to see you fall apart in my arms. Loved to see you take it, how breathless you were.”
“You’re gonna be breathless too, soon,” you said when Joel placed one hand on Javi's hip.
“You want me there, Javi?”
“Shit, yeah,” he groaned and Joel pushed in slowly, making room for his cock.
“Kiss me. Kiss me. Let me feel you fall apart, too.”
“Oh fuck…”
“I know, baby, I know. You’re gonna feel so good soon. Let him in. Let him in, Javi.”
You knew that Joel bottomed out when Javi did the same inside you, driven by Joel's pace, his body quivering and shaking.
“Feel good?”
“Fuck… yeah. Shit.”
Joel picked up the pace, his eyes fixed on you. Yours were moving from one man to the other.
“You’re gonna come, Javi? Gonna fill my cunt?”
He nodded, unable to answer, his face twisted with pleasure. Joel's broad shoulders tensed, while his hands gripped Javi harder. One on his hip, the other on his shoulder for leverage. Javi was thrusting into you at the same pace Joel was sinking into him. You licked Javi's neck before nibbling on his earlobe.
“Babe…” he whined.
“Give it to me, Javi,” you said, eyes fixed on Joel.
“Fuck! I’m gonna come….”
Javi moaned as his cum coated your walls, and didn’t stop humping you until you milked his cock to the last drop, the jolts of his body beneath your fingers and between your thighs then slowing down before they stopped.
Joel was chasing his climax, thrusting hard and deep, hands on Javi’s hips. His jaw clenched and his body tensed, the veins in his neck bulging, as he threw his head back in pleasure when he bottomed out one last time. He froze, groaning, his large hand gripping Javi's shoulder tightly.
“Fuck,” Javi groaned, before they pulled out and plopped on the bed, Javi between the two of you. You were catching your breaths, bodies covered in sweat.
“See? Told you to trust me, baby, there at the restaurant,” Javi smiled and raised his arm for you to curl up against him.
“I’m glad I did,” you said before kissing his chest.
Your hand brushed Javi’s belly then reached Joel, and grabbed his side. He smiled at you.
You didn't know what your future held with those two men, but the weekend was just beginning.
More Javi x reader x Joel: Blackmail series (different AU)
Thank you for reading 🙏
Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️
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@littlemisspascal @pascalsanctuary
npt: tagging those who showed interest in the wip wednesday posts ❤️
OMG the reader getting freaky with the two sexiest texans to ever roam this earth at the same time with a side of jealous joel is absolutely STUNNING!!! 🥵🫠🔥
Summary: Dave comes back home with the hundreth wound and that shouldn't turn you on the way it does
Warnings: 18+ smut, MDNI, dub-con, age gap implied (legal), wounds, blood, mention of scars, mention of murders, pussy spanking, fingering (f!receiving), oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex (use protection irl), use of "slut", use of "daddy", power imbalance, use of petnames (sweetheart, darling, babygirl, good girl, princess), finger sucking, cum eating, aftercare
Word count: 5.1k
Notes: definitely the first time writing something a little darker, read the warnings carefully 🩸 lyrics in the title are from “False god” by Taylor Swift
Divider creds: @anitalenia
|| MY FICS ||
His jacket falls to the ground revealing the maroon stains on his pale light blue shirt. He’s not bothered by that, he walks like a lion, still hungry, pacing like he’s being held in a cage.
A drop of blood ends on the floor, Dave looking at it and realising that it’s his own blood, still tasting it in his mouth; his shirt is ripped too on his arm, revealing a neat cut, dripping through the tissue and then onto the floor.
“Dave… what happened?”
You utter those words, and his look tells you that he hadn’t heard you, that he thought he was still alone and he had time to clean all of that.
“Nothing, sweetheart.” But his eyes deny the sincerity in his words, a veil of worrying, a dark shadow hovering his face, betraying him; it is not the first time that he comes back home in that state, and it won’t be the last.
“Let me see.” You soothe as you’re approaching him, his magnetic look on you studying what is gonna be your next move.
But he doesn’t expect you to cup his cheek and brush away some blood, his or not, you don’t know and you shouldn’t care; there’s a cut on his lip too, that keeps on bleeding, blood staining the collar of his shirt too. What concerns you more though is the cut on his arm, even though you can’t see it properly, covered by the shirt sleeve.
You take his hand, making him follow you into the kitchen even though he’s reluctant as hell, remaining stiffened next to you, but it takes a lot more to scare you.
You unbutton the sleeve, carefully rolling it up, his look diverting from the wound and actually not even looking at you; you sigh, taking the aid kit from the kitchen cabinet, uncapping the disinfectant and wetting some gauzes with it, before tapping it over the wound. The contact would make anyone else flinch, anyone but Dave, who stays there like a marble statue, like his wound is not real. The wound bleeds a little more and you have to clean it all around it. Once blood would repel you, now instead you have to look at it far too often, because that is Dave’s life, something that you didn’t choose, not knowing what awaited you.
Soon the wound is all patched up, cleaned and covered with a big bandaid, Dave turning a bit his arm to look at it, “Thank you.” Dry voice, as you get the an ice bag from the freezer, taking his chin between your fingers and making him lower just a little.
He lightly hisses, if there is something that he doesn’t like it’s the cold, but you have to keep that bag over his lip, “What have you done?” You ask, still the ice pressed on him, but running your fingers through his hair, a gesture to which he closes his eyes, letting out a big sigh.
“It’s nothing, darling.” Him and his vague answers, “The other ones got it worse than me, at least I’m still in this world.”
That sends you chills over your spine, picturing him doing all of that, and it doesn’t give you the horror that would give to anyone else; you’ve never seen him in action, never seen how he actually slaughter throats, stabs and shoots with a face dried of all the emotions. Well, maybe just one emotion remains, the pleasure he feels in fighting and having blood splattering on him, the pleasure of having control not of things, but over someone else. Anyone would feel threatened by that look, those eyes that hide God only knows what scenes.
Anyone but you.
Your hand reaches behind his head, cradling it, and looking deep into those eyes, searching for an answer about what happened.
“There will ever be a last time? A day when you’re gonna have enough of this?” You caution, a thumb circling behind his neck, and he scoffs at the question, flinching because of the ice and you put it down on the kitchen counter.
“Why even bother asking if you know the answer, uh?” He bites back, his hand reaching your wrists, and the soft touch clashes with his next words, “It’s never gonna happen.”
You look at his wound, now covered, thinking of all the other wounds you have patched, all the smell of blood that could fill your nose, and the scars that he has on his body. Even his neck carries scars and his arm is scarred by his previous job, still asking how he could still lean into that kind of stuff, what is gonna make him finally stop.
“Dave, it’s just that-”, Your fingers now on the back of his neck, hoping to ease him,
“Just what?” He cuts you off, his look darkening, “Do you like the good life? You like this house and the cars that we drive?” He shifts his hold on your arm, tightening it when you’re not giving him an answer. “You like the fancy dresses and the expensive lingerie that I can take off you?”
“Answer. Do you like it or not?” He roars, tugging your arm, and that demanding voice shouldn’t turn you on the way it instead does.
“I do.” You let out in a breath, loving and hating the life that you have built with him, the turns that your life took since you’ve met him.
“Good,” he eases the tight on your arm, passing his thumb over the pain that he caused you, “Then you have to be quiet about it.”
The back of your fingers caress him behind his neck, as you nod to his words.
“And from where this innocence comes from? Don’t act like thinking about what I do doesn’t turn you on.”
You bite your lip, “You want to know what I have done because secretly you enjoy hearing that, right?”
And still there isn’t a right answer to that, well, the right answer would be that no, you don’t like that. And yes, that would be the morally right answer that everyone would give, but for you it wouldn’t be true, you would be lying.
His other hand reaches your hip, thumb pressing onto your skin, “Oh you want to hear that so bad, but your inner moral compass tells you no, tells you that you should be a better person than me.” He hisses, and after that he lands a kiss on your inner arm, a gentleness that betrays his words.
“But you’re not, you’re not a better person than me and you know that.”
He whispers over your skin, “You know, I did it all alone today, no help from anyone else. I lured them, them making the mistake of thinking I was on their side. Then,” he lands another kiss, “Then I killed them, one by one. One shot, one stabbed with the knife, and the other one with a glass of a shattered bottle. I saw the bleeding, I saw the wounds, and no one will ever think that it was me. Everything went so smooth, even too much, and I got out with just a little cut, nothing compared to theirs.”
Shivers cross your body, like someone was blowing cold air over you, but your heartbeat rises and you know that he’s right.
You shake your head, more to your thoughts than to his words, “Dave…”
“Oh you didn’t like that? I went too soft on them?”
And you should hate him, loathe him.
“You want me to believe that hearing about me in control is not turning you on? That you don’t enjoy thinking about me showing all my strength? How I can shove someone across the room in a heartbeat? How I haunt them down?”
Your eyes might have darkened as his, your chest raising and falling at a quicker rhythm.
“So if I were to raise your skirt and pull down your panties they would be all nice and dry, uh sweetheart?” He teases, and you squeeze your eyes at that thought.
He leaves your arm, you placing your hand over his bicep, lightly grabbing it.
And before you can say anything, Dave has turned you, now your back facing his chest, an arm around your waist and his hand going down until the skirt, not hesitating and going for the hems of it, lifting it up and caressing you over your thigh.
You try to move in his arm, trying to tell him that all of that is not true and that-
He doesn’t wait any longer, he wants his answer, and he shuts you up by sliding his hand down in your wet panties, you exhaling just a “Fuck.” And you can feel his smirk behind your neck. You wrap your hand around his wrist, holding it but nothing is gonna stop him now.
“See how good you are? You’re just like me.” He hisses, warm breathing now on your neck. His fingers move over your folds, pressing his thumb over your clit.
“You’re so fucking wet, and you wanted me to believe how innocent you are. You didn’t say a thing, but your cunt is telling me everything.” He whispers like a devil, and you move against his palm, but he immediately holds you more with his arm, “Still, stay still.”
You obey and he keeps circling over your clit, your hand still wrapped around his wrist, pushing him more down.
But as you push, he retrieves his hand making you whine, as he brings his fingers over your lips, “Open.”
You part your lips and you suck on his fingers, “Good girl.” He praises, taking them out and bringing his attention back to your panties; he pulls them to one side, his flat hand hitting you as he spanks you there, taking your breath away.
A second slap hits, directly on your clit, making you cry out, your wetness though betraying you, and as you move in his arm you feel his bulge behind you, and that only makes the situation worse.
“What did I tell you?” He cups you, “That I have to stay still.” You let out, ragged breath. “Exactly,” another slap, to which you fight the urge to move, not even daring to breathe, “You’re so eager for my cock, I know, but I will give you that when I decide so.”
“Now can you be a good girl for daddy?” He coos over your neck, kissing you on your pulse.
You nod quickly, “Yes, yes.”
“Yes, what?” He says, his index going up and down on your folds, your legs already weak at that.
“Yes, daddy.” You exhale, him giving you a lighter slap once again, and you bite your lip, grabbing the arm that is holding you over your waist.
“There you go.” A kiss pressed onto your cheek, as he pushes your legs a bit wider with his hand, caressing your inner thighs.
He massages your clit, and you would love to move against his hand, but you stay put, breathing deeply.
His fingers go over your folds, feeling how wet you are, and he lands his middle finger over your centre, easing his fingertip in and nothing more.
You hiss, and he kisses your neck, “Oh do you want more?”
“Please, daddy, yes. I- I want you to fuck me with your fingers.” You describe, knowing how much he likes it when you do that, when you tell him all the dirty things that you want him to do to you.
“My good slut.” He says, taking out his fingertip, only to press again in and going way deeper, stretching you all the way.
It burns with pain for the way he pushed so strongly and so suddenly, but it mixes with pleasure, the addicting way that he has of creating the rhythm that works for you; his thumb keeps circling on your clit, your heart feeling like it could explode.
“Gonna add one more, you want that, right?” He asks, the hand holding you on your hip caressing you.
“Yes, Dave.” He lets slip the fact that you called him by his name, and he stops moving the finger already in only to push the other one in too, letting you adjust for a moment to them before moving them.
And once again, it hurts, but in that good way that you like, taking everything that he has to give you, those fingers curling inside you and making you let out a high pitched cry, body trembling for the pleasure.
The slapping noise of his fingers inside you is obscene, reflecting the words that he is whispering to your ear, “Yeah you like that? Being all stretched for me and ready to take my cock?”
Your hand keeps grabbing the arm around you, nails digging into his skin, but Dave doesn’t mind that, for him it means that he’s doing exactly what he has to do.
His palm keeps rubbing on your clit as he pushes in his fingers, and all the wetness is insane, the thought of wanting to come slowly crossing your mind, but delaying it knowing that he’ll want you to ask for permission.
“Daddy, when can I come?” You pledge, biting your lip, him kissing your shoulder, “You want to come right now?”
“Yes.” You just utter, thinking of formulating any kind of phrase is simply too much right now, your brain can’t clearly work properly with those fingers inside you not giving you peace and all that friction on your clit.
“Alright then, come now,” he grunts, his hand speeding up his movements rubbing over your clit no stop, and it burns like hell and your knees are falling apart, body begging to lay down, but his arm keeps you up and close to him, always being still while being engulfed by him.
“Come for me, come for your daddy.” Obscene sounds leaving your mouth, as you clench around his fingers, pain shooting in your body together with a flow of pleasure igniting your veins and all your senses.
“There you go, babygirl, there you go.” He whispers over your neck, as you release completely in his hold, body shaking in the aftermath.
You pant, out of breath for that rollercoaster, for him being a master at this.
His movements come to a halt, retrieving slowly his fingers from inside you and instead of giving relief, it hurts more to be empty than to be stretched; you whimper at that, him shushing you with kisses all over your cheek, before putting your panties as they were, even adjusting your skirt.
He embraces you in a hug from behind, now both his arms around you, also his wounded arm, where the big bandaid and gauzes are holding on even after all that movement.
“Breathe, darling, breathe,” he coos, a hand over your chest, feeling your racing heartbeat.
“That’s it, breathe in… and out.” And your body responds so well to his words, as your breathing slowly goes back to normal, leaving you without forces, still up only thanks to his arms.
“Dave I need to sit or to lay down, please.” You utter, and he doesn’t need to hear anything more.
He turns you and lifts you up over the kitchen isle, the cold marble seeming to ease all that burning and pain.
“There you go.” He says, handing you also a glass of water. It is cold and it eases all the heat that you’re feeling.
“Thank you.” Your voice hoarse; his face is now dangerously close to yours, and you cup his cheek, cannot helping but bringing him in for a kiss. And it will always amaze you how a person like that is capable of kissing you with such delicacy, even if two minutes before he was thrusting his fingers inside you with no regrets.
Just the thought of that makes you tingle, almost closing your legs.
His hands are placed on the marble, then one reaches your cheek too, brushing his thumb there.
And you try not to, but you hiss for the pain that you can still feel.
“Where does it hurt?” He innocently asks, you know damn well where, you think, but not daring to say those words.
“Uh- here.” You point at your skirt, now back in place and you ask yourself for how much longer.
“Your little cunt hurts?” Dave coos, rolling up the skirt, “We have to do something about it.” He says in all seriousness.
And someone else would think of some cream or some kind of oil, but not him.
He pulls down the panties, dropping them on the floor, and then parting your legs with his hands, hovering them.
And you want to close them, but the cold air is actually easing the pain.
“Yeah, I can see that.” He breathes, looking at you all exposed now, “Poor thing, does it hurt a lot?” He asks, and you can’t tell if he’s joking or not.
You silently nod anyway, keeping yourself propped on your elbows, too tired to properly sit.
“Well then, I know a way that is gonna help.” He devilishly says, the back of his fingers brushing down there, getting a whimper out of you, your hand reaching his wrist stopping him, “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m not gonna use my fingers…” He comforts, taking your chin between his index and thumb, “I’m just gonna eat you out for a bit, alright?” His other hand smoothing on top of your thigh, and you hate how your body responds to him, shivering at that touch.
His hands grab your hips to make you shift closer to his face, smooth and cold marble under you.
He rolls up his sleeves, taking a glance at the bandages he has on his arm, before letting the back of his hands caress you again on both thighs, reaching the hems of your shirt, starting to unbuttoning it, until it is all done and he lets it fall from your shoulders.
A hand goes on your back, undoing your bra, and that too follows the same fate of the other clothes, ending on the floor. “Lay down, babe.” He instructs, letting your back meet the cold marble, and he starts kissing your neck, your hands falling through his hair, soft under your fingers.
He trails over your chest, kissing each breast, hands cupping them but slowly descending on your waist, his lips moving along his hands; the skirt meets the same fate of your other clothes, as he reaches your tummy and he leaves kisses on your hip, your hand searching for his; he holds your hand back for a moment, bringing it to his lips and kissing the back of it, so gently that it feels like another person.
He leaves your hand though, as you see him kneeling down, the kitchen isle actually being the perfect height for this; Dave keeps his promise to not touch you with his fingers, in fact he still lays kisses only to your inner thigh, replacing then his lips with his hands just anchoring under your thighs, so that he will keep you open as he prefers. Soon you feel the familiar wetness against you, his tongue flat starting to lick you, indulging though on your clit and you’re so overstimulated that it makes you whine out loud, him taking that as an encouragement and closing his lips around it, properly sucking it; you grab his hair, but nothing will keep him away from you now, not until you’re gonna come again probably.
Tongue swirls over your folds then, collecting all your wetness and it feels like heaven and hell at the same time when he pushes it inside you, now a proper scream leaving your lips; you can tell that he’s enjoying all of that, like the devil that he is, pushing even more only to take it away all of sudden, then pushing it again.
He then kisses you all over, his mouth all covered in you, “You’re so good.” He breathes, before diving in again, and you try to look down, but all you can see is his hair and your hand grabbing it.
His nose brushes against you too, and you try to move against him, Dave tightening his hold with his hands in response, “What were you trying to do?” But it is a rethoric question, he doesn’t want an answer, and he makes you bend your knees, raising them and pushing his hands on the back of your thighs, now keeping you even more open.
He gets up, just to have a better angle, and goes back to his making, you already over the edge and feeling the urge to close your legs, but you can’t, not with that hold.
He insists on your clit, feeling how you’re panting and knowing what buttons he has to push; this was supposed to ease the overstimulation, and well, it is making it worse, not being able to do anything and just taking it and taking it.
“Dave, I-”, but you’re so overwhelmed that you can’t say anything more.
“Come, babygirl, come again.” He utters, sucking on your folds and the on your clit again, your hands going to grab your breasts, pinching your own nipples, a violent shake making your body tremble against his, involuntarily moving against his mouth, and not even that makes him get away from your centre; he keeps on going, waiting for another shake to hit your body, a wave of pleasure so sudden that makes you scream his name, him finally leaving you.
A tear marks your cheek, him slowly releasing your legs from his hold, brushing his hands over your thighs, and you react even to that, everything being so much.
You’re so lost in everything that you barely notice his arms around your waist, pulling you up and seated on the isle, him still between your legs as he stands in front of it; a hand goes on the back of your head, making you lay it on his chest, and you can feel his heartbeat which calms you at least.
“There you go, breathe now.”
Your body stays pliant against him, that warmth reassuring you, his perfume mixed with the smell of blood that you can still feel on his stained shirt.
You reach his shirt, holding it, hands going on his waist, him landing a kiss on top of your head, “Feeling good?” He checks in and well, now you feel like everything is fucking amazing, the aftermath of the orgasm leaving you in a state of haze.
“Yeah,” you mumble, feeling his thumb on your cheek, leaning onto the touch.
And all that proximity makes you notice his bulge, pressing against you, feeling him being so hard.
He raises your head, kissing you on your lips, hands cupping your cheeks and then brushing on your hair.
You dare to place your hand over his crotch, holding him through the tissue of his trousers, him exhaling a “Fuck.” over your lips.
“Feel that? That’s what you do to me.” He says, and you can’t help but thinking that he’s not done with you yet. And you don’t want him to be.
“I’ve almost come just by fingering you and eating you out, but you know damn well where I want to come.”
There it is; you nod, and your cunt really shouldn’t be throbbing at the idea of having him fucking you after all of this.
As he kisses you again, you feel his hand reaching between your legs and he slowly pushes a finger inside you, making you moan on his lips, “Oh,” he coos, “You’re all warm and ready for daddy’s cock, aren’t you?”
He undoes his belt, “Waiting to fill you up, making you come again, right sweetheart?”
Your heartbeat betrays you, racing at the words, switching you on for the hundredth time today, like a flame.
Soon his finger is replaced by his big tip, making you hiss, “One last big stretch, you take me so well, darling.” He says, slightly moving but still not being inside you.
His arms are around you and your hands are grabbing his shoulders, his hair, literally anything that you can grab, as he finally pushes in, hating how you welcome him so well, confirming what he says.
“That’s my good girl,” he echoes, as you wrap your legs around him, keeping him even closer like that.
And it hits so good inside you, going deep just the right amount, that warmth and slight burn being just raw pleasure.
He thrusts deeply and decisive, and if he wasn’t holding you in his arms, he would have moved you on the isle, given the strength of his thrusts, taking away all your breath.
He moans when he feels you slightly tightening around him, one of his hands now reaching between you two to go rub his thumb against your clit.
The overstimulation comes back in full force, a high pitched scream leaving your lips, throwing your head back, and he dives on your neck, kissing you.
Every kiss equals a deeper thrust, building up a rhythm that is making you wetter than what you already were, asking yourself for a moment how it is possible that you got two orgasms and now you’re already chasing a third one, and honestly you could continue like that for the whole day.
“How is it, uh? You wanted this since you saw me with the blood on my shirt,” he says through his gritted teeth for the effort, “You were playing all innocent and-” another big and deep thrust catching your breath away, “And instead you just wanted to be fucked.”
“Fuck, yes, daddy, yes.” You moan, your brain like a fog but still you really agree to his words that couldn’t be more true.
“I knew it, I knew that you’re a little slut and you’re no better than me.” He hisses, big thrust hitting right your cervix and making your body shake.
“Now you’re gonna come again, uh? Third time in a row, because your daddy is just so fucking good at this.” His voice so deep but never as deep as the way he’s thrusting into you.
“Yes, yes, yes.” You repeat, feeling on another dimension, tightening around him, wanting him to release it all into you.
He keeps hitting right on that spot, and it just feels so good you would never want it to end actually, could even spend forever like this, lost in this pleasure.
“Gonna come, babygirl,” he groans, his fingers still moving on you and finally you tighten one last time around him, coming for the third time and it feels even better to have him come right away, warmth filling you.
You remain wrapped around him, pain and tiredness should be kicking in but they don’t, not when you got what you wanted.
Your moans mix together, unholy things leaving your lips as he still slightly thrusts, riding that orgasm and that pleasure.
“So good, so fucking good to me.” He moans, his hands caressing your back, your hands tight in his hair, keeping him still close to you, his lips kissing your cheek and then your neck.
It could have been five minutes later when he pulls out or thirty, you wouldn’t know, too lost in him, too addicted to his body.
There it is again, the feeling of being empty without him, as you clench around nothing, him chuckling at that view.
“Wish that you could see yourself right now.” His index reaches your centre, making you whimper, his finger falling between your folds and collecting his own come and yours mixed, “Actually outrageous and so beautiful at the same time,” he adds, wiping it on your thigh, even though you had already parted your lips waiting for him to feed it to you.
“Oh you wanted that?” He asks, brushing his thumb on your bottom lip, “Wanted to taste both me and you in your pretty mouth?”
You nod, keeping your lips parted and you whimper again when he presses his fingertip against you one more time, looking at his finger and then placing it on your bottom lip, waiting for you to suck on it.
You eagerly wrap your lips around it, sucking it and licking it, feeling the taste going down your throat, “That’s a good girl,” he praises, your lashes fluttering at that.
He then brushes his thumb over your cheek, pressing a kiss onto your forehead, “I love you, you know that?”
You weakly smile, “I know,” your voice tired, “And I love you too, Dave.”
He lands one more kiss now on your lips, back of his hand brushing over your arm, “Gonna take care of you now, alright?”
That is how he first pulls up his trousers, not closing his belt though, and actually taking off his shirt, working on the buttons quickly, before making you wear it.
It’s ripped on one arm, his own blood now dried up, so it still smells like blood, sweat and his perfume. And it is just perfect.
He buttons it up, being long enough to cover your thighs, “Alright, come here.” He utters, his hand grabbing your waist, you wrapping your legs around him as he lifts you from the kitchen isle, feeling that contact with his bare skin of his chest, warm and comforting.
He wants to lay you on the floor, but you tighten the grip on his hair with one hand, “Okay, okay,” he comforts, his arms holding you strongly, him actually forgetting about his wound, because the only thing he cares about is what you want. “I’m carrying you until the bathroom and we’re gonna have a warm shower, sounds good, darling?”
You nod on his shoulder, and he kisses your cheek, now walking down the hallway until the bathroom.
“There you go, princess.” He lets out, landing you on the bathroom floor.
You stay there holding yourself in his shirt, as he opens the hot water in the shower, getting then rid of his clothes; he goes to unbutton the shirt that you’re wearing now, letting it fall on the floor, among his clothes.
“Come here,” his hand inviting you into the shower, the warm water hitting your shoulders.
And all that roughness gets lost with the flow of the water running on you both, his hands spreading soap over your body, avoiding your centre as you can do that by yourself, no need for more stimulation from him.
You do the same with him, rising on your tiptoes to reach his shoulders.
And it’s sweet, the way he then embraces you in a hug, kissing you on your forehead, “You’re the most precious thing in my life.” He says, and you smile, knowing that despite the fighting that you have sometimes with him, the clashing that this life brings to you… the love is real, all the feelings are real and he would kill for you.
Alright this chapter is basically pure smut. Fair warning-Some writers create smutty juicy masterpieces! This was a bit of a struggle. I haven't written anything X-rated in AGES! Be kind! 😕
I'm so excited for these two to finally get it on!
A HUGE thanks to @holbrk @berryispunk @jadesmultifandom for giving me resources through Discord. You guys are amazing!
Word Count: 3618
Warnings: NSFW, Basically pure smut!
A clap of thunder interrupted the silence that lingered after your confession. “Can I come in?”
Joel nodded and stepped aside. You wrapped your arms around yourself to keep from shivering. “I don’t understand you, Joel. You avoid me for weeks then drop this bomb on me and walk away like it's nothing. Without giving me a chance to process what you’ve just said.”
Joel stood there, staring down at you, silent. You blinked back the tears beginning to form in your eyes. His stoicism made your blood boil.
“Say something.” You shoved him although being so broad and strong, he barely budged. You shoved him once more, harder. “You emotionally constipated asshole!”
You went to shove Joel again only this time he took hold of your wrists and pulled you to his chest, his mouth crashing with yours. You moaned, allowing his tongue to part your lips. Your tongue brushed against his, you could taste the mint of his toothpaste and the whiskey from earlier that evening. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you deepened the kiss, gently tugging on his bottom lip and pulling a groan from deep in Joel’s chest.
Your bodies were like magnets, pressed against one another. Your wet clothes dampening Joel’s t-shirt. His hands were all over you, grabbing fistfuls of your flesh. He walked you backwards until you were pushed up against the wall, his mouth never leaving yours. His lips traveled across your cheek, towards your neck, sucking a spot below your ear that made you gasp.
His fingers inched lower, skimming the hemline of your shirt. “Can I?” he asked, his voice rough.
“Yes,” you breathed.
He peeled off your wet shirt and froze when he saw your nipples visible through your wet bra. “Fuck, baby.” His hands gently cupped your breasts, thumbs brushed across where the lace met skin, causing goosebumps to erupt.
“More,” you pleaded. “I’m not made of glass.”
With a smirk, he teased and nipped at your buds through the fabric until they puckered and swollen, leaving you a whimpering mess.
Joel was grateful the doctor had removed the cast from his hand two weeks earlier as he reached around to grab the back of your thighs and pick you up, carrying you upstairs.
While in his arms, you reached around and unhooked your bra, tossing it over Joel’s head with a giggle as it landed somewhere on the railing. Once inside his bedroom, he kicked the door closed and set you down in front of the bed.
Your heart was beating so hard, it felt like it was about to burst out of your chest. All of the sudden this felt real, not some fantasy you had built up in your head. Your insecurities. Your limited past experiences. All of it began to bubble to the surface.
Joel cupped your face. “Hey, where’d you go?”
“I’m here. Just a little nervous, I guess,” you softly said, grateful for the darkness as the embarrassment at your confession bloomed on your face.
Joel leaned forward and gave you a soft kiss. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, darlin’. You set the pace.”
You gazed up into the eyes of a man that made you feel safe, that made you feel seen and desired. This was different from anything you had ever experienced. This was how it was supposed to be. No fear. No shame. Just you and Joel.
“I want to do this.” Your fingers reached for the hem of his shirt. “Ok?” you asked.
Joel gulped and he looked almost as nervous as you did. “Ok.”
You helped him take off his shirt, exposing his bare chest. There were some things that Joel couldn’t hide under his clothes–the broadness of his back, his strong forearms and biceps from years of work. But now you could notice the little things–the scars that you wanted to trace with your lips, down to his soft stomach which jumped slightly when you brushed your fingertips against it, reaching lower for the growing bulge in the crotch of his pajama bottoms.
You palmed him through his pajamas, harder and harder until his cock was practically quivering under your touch. Joel threw his head back and made some type of primal growl. “You keep doin’ that and this is going to be over real quick and I want to take my time with you.”
He dragged his thumb across the bottom of your kiss swollen lips before inching his hands lower. With a reverence you had only seen at a church service, he slowly removed the remainder of your clothes. Kissing every newly exposed body part.
Laying you back on the bed, Joel cupped your breast and dragged his tongue around your nipple before taking it into his mouth, sucking at your swollen bud, admiring the way it hardened under his command. You moaned loudly and arched into his touch, running your hands into his hair, smothering him with your breasts. A hum vibrated in his throat, licking his way over to your other breast to repeat his actions.
Your body was shivering, your core dripping. You were desperate. “Please, Joel.”
Joel placed an open mouth kiss on one side of your hip, nibbling his way over to your other hip. When he propped your leg over his shoulder, you shot right up like a jack rabbit, your eyes as big as saucers.
“Do you not want me to?” he asked, gesturing towards your glistening pussy.
“I’ve...I’ve…never had it done to me before,” you meekly replied.
“That’s ok. We don’t have to.” Joel moved to take your one leg off his shoulder when you stopped him.
“Wait….Actually, I want to.”
“You sure?”
You nodded your head. “I trust you.”
With a smile, he moved up your body and softly kissed you. “Just relax, baby. If you want me to stop at any time I will.”
Curious as to what would happen, you propped yourself up on your elbows and observed as Joel gently petted your velvety soft pussy, the pads of his fingers getting wetter with each stroke.
You gasped as he took his thumbs and spread your lips open, tracing your hole with his finger.
“So fuckin’ pretty,” he growled, placing an open mouth kiss on the apex of your sex, massaging your clit with his tongue.
Your eyes fluttered shut at the sensation. Your jaw dropped open but all the sound had been knocked out of you. The sensation of Joel’s mouth on your bundle of nerves was beyond anything you had ever experienced.
He moaned and pulled off you with a squelch. “I knew you’d taste good, but I didn’t know you’d be this fuckin’ sweet. I think I found my new favorite dessert. Do you want me to stop?”
“No,” you whimpered.
Your head fell back and you wailed when he went back to swirling and flicking your clit before dipping his tongue into your entrance, thrusting in and out, lapping at your juices.
He buried his face between your legs, sucking on your hot swollen clit while plunging a finger inside of you. His eyes bore into you, watching you moan and writhe in pleasure under his ministrations.
Joel added another finger, crooking them in a come hither motion.
The noises you were making got louder and louder. You threaded your fingers through Joel’s hair and undulated your hips, trying to ride his face. You couldn’t catch your breath, the crest of your orgasm getting closer and closer. It felt as if you were going to fly away.
“Joel–I–I-I-” you sighed.
With his other hand, Joel took hold of yours, grounding you to him. One final swipe of his tongue was all it took to send you over the edge. Your back arched as you howled in ecstasy, squeezing your thighs around Joel’s head so tight, you were sure it would decapitate him.
He worked you through your orgasm, whimpering as your taste flooded his mouth.
“Holy shit,” you breathed, your flushed body still quivering as you catched your breath.
Joel leaned against your thigh, his soft full lips glistened with your arousal. “I do good?” he asked with an arch brow.
A smile spread across your lips and you began to laugh almost hysterically. “Are you kidding? Do you think you could do that every day?”
Joel chuckled and playfully nipped at your flesh. “I’ll see what I can do.”
You tugged him up and kissed him deeply, tasting yourself on his tongue while desperately trying to reach down to tug his pajama bottoms off, wanting him even more now.
“So eager,” he purred and stood up to remove the rest of his clothes. You drank him in from head to toe. God he was beautiful.
As he drew closer, you noticed droplets of precum glistening at the head of his cock and your mouth watered. You never particularly enjoyed giving blowjobs in the past, but that was because it felt forced. A chore you were expected to do. But with Joel, you wanted to worship him. To give him as much pleasure as he gave you.
He hovered over you, settling between your legs, nuzzling his nose against yours. “You’re perfect,” he whispered, his fingers curling around strands of your hair.
He took hold of his cock and notched the tip at your entrance. Slowly he pushed into your cunt until just the tip was in, his eyes never leaving your face. After a moment, he pulled out and would push back in a little more, inch by excruciating inch slowly thrusting in and out until your sheath enveloped him.
“Oh fuck,” he choked out and stilled to calm himself.
A shiver ran down your spine. It was the most exquisite torture to be fully penetrated by Joel. You had never felt so full.
His hips began to roll against you. Joel dropped his head forward. “Jesus…you feel…so good…so tight,” he grunted in the shell of your ear.
Every snap of his hips had your brain short-circuiting. You pulled him into a messy kiss, your tongues tangling together. With every thrust, the headboard banged against the wall so hard, you were sure the plaster was cracking.
Joel hitched your leg up higher on his hip, finding that spot deep inside that you had only heard rumors about.
“Joel! Fuck!” you mewled and arched your back, your nails digging into his shoulders.
“I know, baby,” he rasped out. Your body molded to his, meeting his hips with every movement. Your foreheads pressed together, lips brushing against lips, breathing each other’s air.
A fire began to pool deep in your abdomen. “Cl-cl-close,” you stuttered.
He pulled back and brought two fingers up to your mouth, commanding you to suck. You moaned around his digits, mimicking the way you would suck his cock. Once satisfied, he pulled his fingers out of your mouth and snaked them down between you, rubbing frantic circles on your clit.
Blood roared in your ears. You felt as if you were about to burst. It was all too much. “I’m gonna cum!” you wailed.
Joel took you by the chin and forced you to focus on his gaze. “Don’t you dare look away,” he commanded with a smoulder in his eyes.
You struggled to keep your eyes open as shockwaves rippled through your body. “Joel,” you whispered, unable to breathe for a moment before crying out, your face completely wrecked.
Joel continued pumping into you, feeling your cunt clench around him, your orgasm creaming his cock. “That’s my girl. So fuckin’ pretty.”
“Cum for me. I need it so bad,” you whined.
Joel snapped his hips half a dozen times before pulling out and jerking himself all over your stomach and breasts. Moaning your name as his hot milky seed squirted all over your stomach and breasts.
A ripple of pleasure went through you being coated in Joel’s cum as if you were being claimed by him.
He collapsed by your side. Both of you, sweaty and satiated, trying to catch your breath and come back down to Earth.
You sighed fully content and gazed down at your body, dragging a finger through Joel’s mess and making a show of taking a taste.
“Tease.” He playfully pinched your nipple before getting up off the bed. “I’ll go and grab a washcloth.”
Utterly exhausted, you laid still and allowed Joel to gently wipe you down. You ran your finger through his mussed up hair and cupped his cheek. He smiled and turned to place a gentle kiss on your palm before getting up to toss the washcloth into the hamper.
Once you both were settled into bed, your muscle memory instantly kicked in and you snuggled against him, your head on his chest, legs tangled together.
Joel rested his chin at the crown of your head, the scent of rain and sex clung to your hair. He ran his fingers up and down your spine. “So do you want to–”
You shushed him and nuzzled against his skin. “Tomorrow, Miller. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
The next morning it wasn’t the warmth of the sunlight streaming in through the windows that woke you, but rather the furnace with four limbs that was wrapped around your body. You stretched like a cat and yawned, noticing that Joel was already awake, watching you sleep.
“Good Morning,” you said, slightly self-conscious at someone watching you sleep even if it was Joel. “How long have you been watching me?”
Joel gave you a one shoulder shrug. “Not long. You looked so comfortable. I didn’t want to wake ya’. Do you have to work today?”
“Nope,” you said, making the ‘p’ pop with your lips. You moved to straddle him and lazily kissed up his chest. “Do you?”
“I think they can work without me for one day.”
You hummed in contentment and playfully nipped at his neck while rocking back and forth against his hardening cock. His fingers dug into the flesh at your hips encouraging you to grind harder against him.
“Damn, you’re so wet already. This all for me?” he purred.
“Yes,” you managed to gasp as the head of his cock rubbed against your sensitive swollen clit.
Joel sat up and kissed down the column of your throat, feeling your pulse race under his tongue. He glanced down and groaned, noticing how his precum mixed with your arousal. “Oh, baby…look.”
You followed his gaze and let out a strangled cry, watching how his tip caressed you, making you even wetter. Your pussy clenched around nothing. “Joel, I need you,” you pleaded, desperate.
He let you take control, watching while you lifted yourself up and slowly sank back down on him. A strangled noise escaped your lips. “Fuck, you’re so deep.”
Joel breathed heavily through his nose. The sight of your swollen wet pussy split open on his cock almost had him losing control. “God damn, baby. You’re so beautiful,” he groaned and moved your legs so they were wrapped around him.
You began to experiment until you found the right rhythm, bouncing up and down on him. The mattress squeaking in protest. The sounds coming from your mouth were downright obscene.
Joel grabbed your breasts, lapping and sucking at your nipples, reveling in the rosy flush blooming across your chest. You held him close, his face smothered by your breasts, your nails digging into his skin, making him growl.
The angle you were riding him allowed the base of his cock to hit your clit with every movement. “Joel! I’m cumming! I’m cumming! I’m cumming,” you wailed, the crescendoes of your moans getting higher and higher.
Joel fell back on the bed and planted his feet, thrusting up into your sheath. Your body taut, all you could do was cling to him as he fucked you causing another orgasm to rocket through your body. Your vision faded to black. You bit into his shoulder, practically screaming, riding out wave after wave of pleasure.
Joel was insatiable, overcome with this primal desire. Unable to stop himself, he slammed into you as deep as possible with a grunt, his body tense, painting your walls with his cum.
You clung to one another, sweaty and trembling, trying to piece yourselves together after your bodies had just shattered.
“Wow,” Joel breathed.
“I know,” you managed to pant out. “I need coffee after that.”
“Give me a sec,” he huffed. “I haven’t worked out that hard in ages. I’m old, baby.”
You nuzzled against him and giggled. “Trust me, you can’t tell.”
“You keep that up and I’m gonna get a big ego.” He kissed you before eventually getting up and tugging on his sweatpants.
“I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
Joel was about to open the door when he paused and turned towards you, his brow furrowed, worry flashed upon his face.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry. I…uh…I shouldn’t have finished inside of you. I just….and you were…and it was…”
You let him stutter over his apology for a few more seconds before speaking. “It’s ok. Right after I got married, I was able to bribe a former nurse practitioner to give me an IUD. I just couldn’t have children with that man.”
Joel came to the bed and cupped your face, kissing you deeply. “I understand. I’ll be back with that coffee.”
While he went downstairs, you got up and walked over to his closet, looking through his shirts and jackets. You found a soft green flannel shirt and tugged it on, inhaling that woodsy spicy scent that you had come to recognize as his.
Pilfering through his drawers for a pair of socks, you could feel Joel’s cum dripping out of your cunt. A shiver ran through your spine. Having children was a dream of yours ever since you were little, but that was quickly shattered when you got married.
Even now with your recovery, you weren’t sure if it was a good idea to have children. Who would want someone recovering from PTSD as a mother. That was just you. You had no idea what Joel thought. He was older and already had lost one daughter. Would he want to do that all over again with you?
Joel padded down the stairs only to come to a halt when he saw Ellie sitting at the kitchen table with a big grin on her face.
“Good Afternoon, Mr. Miller. I see we’ve slept in today.”
Joel almost covered his bare chest before he thought better of it. “Hey kiddo,” he said, trying to act nonchalant while he went to the cabinet where the coffee was kept.
For a second he thought Ellie had no idea you were upstairs until she cleared her throat and dangled your bra in front of his face. “Must’ve been a late night….”
“Ellie,” he warned and snatched the bra from her.
“Hey it’s not mine! Also were you doing some construction work earlier? Cause I could’ve sworn I heard some loud banging and cursing.”
“Ellie!”
“In fact I think the whole neighborhood did.”
Joel pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jesus.”
She ignored him and grabbed her backpack. “Well I’m off to meet Dina at the stables. Oh and by the way, you have a bite mark on your shoulder. Gross.” She shuddered in disgust and closed the front door behind her.
Joel glanced at his right shoulder where a perfect imprint of your teeth were marked into his flesh. He laughed and rubbed the mark before pouring coffee into two mugs.
Tired of waiting for your caffeine fix, you came into the kitchen to find Joel laughing and muttering to himself. “Something funny?”
Joel turned and inhaled sharply at the sight of you dressed in nothing but his flannel shirt and socks, your hair wild from sleep and sex, lips swollen. If you were going to be walking around like this all the time, he was in big trouble. No work was ever going to get accomplished.
“Is that for me?” You motioned towards one of the steaming mugs in his hands.
He gulped and nodded, handing it over to you.
You stood across from him and leaned back on the kitchen island. “So I guess we’re doing this?” you hesitantly asked, gesturing between the pair of you.
Joel ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Yeah, I guess so. If you want to.”
You nodded thoughtfully. “I do. Now that things are settling down, I want to get to know you more and I want you to get to know me. Ok?”
“Ok.”
“Good,” you said with finality and took a sip from your mug. Your eyes trailed down Joel’s chest to that line of hair on his lower abdomen. You squeezed your thighs together admiring the outline of his cock in his sweatpants.
Joel set his mug down before taking a step closer and pulling the mug from your hands. “So what should we do now?” he asked, his voice already rough with need.
“We could talk?”
Joel nodded and unbuttoned the shirt you were wearing. “Talkin’s good,” he whispered while his hands trailed from your clavicle down to one of your breasts, dragging his thumb back and forth across your nipple, watching it harden under his touch.
“On second thought,” you choked out. “Talking is so overrated. We can talk tomorrow.”
“Good idea,” he rasped out.
Without warning, Joel scooped you up in his arms, making you squeal in surprise. He carried you right back upstairs where you spent the majority of the day. If this was all a dream, then you never wanted to wake up.
just dropping in to tell that I love you all and I hope that everyone will have the best pride month this year!! in order to celebrate I’ll try my best to find suitable fics to reblog every day of this month featuring our favourite ppcu boys. I’ve found quite a bit of threesome fics, but also some brilliant mlm fics. if you have any recs, PLEASE send them my way!! I’ll be tagging my reblogs with #happy pride 🏳️🌈
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