Next Chapter / Masterlist
Title: Take On Me
Pairing: Robert "Bob" Reynolds x f!reader
Summary: Running into your ex was not on your agenda today and a cute stranger helps you avoid confrontation. 8k word count.
Tags: mentions of toxic relationship, talks of past abuse, talks of child abuse, hurt/comfort, strangers to lovers, fluff, drinking game, scary movie trope, smut, reassurance, consent, Bob is literally the cutest, reader goes by last name but only a couple times, no beta we die like task master.
* I did absolutely no editing on this*
“Shit,” You mutter to yourself. “Shit, shit, shit.” Your eyes quickly scan the tables of patrons sipping their coffees and reading their books, trying desperately to figure out which table you can join without them thinking you’re crazy. A guy close enough to your age sits in the corner alone with his coffee and book in hand, luckily for you, he seems alone and less intimidating than the couples or groups at the other tables. With faux confidence and probably too many espresso shots, you make your way over to his table, unceremoniously plopping down in the chair across from him.
He looks up, slightly alarmed but also confused. It’s kind of sweet, he looks kind of sweet with his wide blue eyes and his longish wavy brown hair. You mentally pat yourself on the back for picking a relatively attractive stranger. He’s still looking at you, mouth agape, and you realize you should probably say something.
“Hi,” you blurt out, a little louder than necessary.
“Uh, hi?” he greets back, unsure as his brows knit together. It somehow makes him look more adorable, and you can’t help but blush.
“Right, so we don’t know each other,” you state the obvious quickly, “But I have this sort of kind of creepy sort of kind ex and he just walked in and it would mean a lot if you would pretend we are on a date or dating or whatever works so he thinks I’m unavailable because no never means no to him and-”
“Okay.” He says simply setting his book down and it’s enough to shut you up.
“What?” You ask dumbly.
“I’ll do it.” He nods, and you can’t help but sigh in relief. “Uh, I should probably know your name, right?”
“Oh! Right. Everyone calls me Sloane. I don’t go by my first name, but that’s a story for later.” You smile shyly.
“Nice to meet you, Sloane. I’m Bob.” He smiles at you, and for a moment, you forget that you are sitting here because your creepy ex just entered the vicinity.
“Bob.” You say more to yourself. “Nice to meet you.” The two of you don’t say another word, forgetting about your coffees and his book, and take the other in. You wonder if the two of you would have ever crossed paths naturally, as you come to this bookstore often and have never seen him here. You also spend quite a bit of time on dating apps and have never come across his profile, and instantly, you feel your stomach drop. What if he has a girlfriend? What if you just subjected someone’s boyfriend to being your fake boyfriend? Does that somehow make you the other woman? Oh god, maybe you are a slut.
“Sloane?” The voice you have been dreading breaks you from spiraling thoughts, and as you snap to it, you notice Bob giving you a concerned look. Was your face showing your thoughts? Did you speak those thoughts out loud? Fuck.
You turn your head in the direction that unfortunately leads to David. On the outside, David looks like a regular guy, and he’s pretty good-looking. On the inside, it is the opposite. He’s jealous, manipulative, a liar, and has a temper that would shock you if you didn’t see it coming. Those blue eyes of his that had first seemed so pretty to you now look empty and cold. Not like Bob’s, whose own blue eyes remind you of a deep ocean you wanted to explore.
“Oh, David. Hi.” You force a polite smile. As he walks over to your table, his eyes drift over to Bob, and you can tell he is eyeing him up. Because you know how David works, you can tell he is figuring out whether he could fight him. He was always into working out and wearing athelesiure clothing like his life depended on it. Bob contrasted him. Where David wore joggers, and Bob wore jeans. David wore a sleek sweatshirt, and Bob wore a white t-shirt with a blue flannel for this perfect Spring day.
Suddenly, realizing that both men were staring each other down, you know you should intervene before one of them decides to say or do something stupid. “Oh, sorry, I’m being rude. David, this is Bob, my-”
“Her boyfriend.” Bob stood, reaching his hand out for David to shake. You weren’t sure if you were imagining it or not. Still, it almost seemed like Bob’s previously shy demeanor had disappeared and was now replaced with a more confident, practically intimidating version of himself.
“David, an old friend.” David narrowed his eyes at Bob before shaking his hand sternly. Mid-handshake, you could see David stiffen, and the tough guy exterior he had prior deteriorated before your eyes. Bob, however, looked unfazed by whatever was occurring with your ex. David dropped Bob’s hand as if burned. You couldn’t help but quirk an eyebrow at him.
“David?” You question him, but he doesn’t acknowledge you, he just keeps his eyes on Bob. “Are you okay?”
David blinks a few times before restoring his usual haughtiness. “Yeah, sorry, I just remembered I actually have to meet my buddy at the gym soon. I’ll see you around.” And with that, David hastily walked away.
You sat there dumbfounded while Bob watched him leave. Your eyes traveled back to Bob as he slowly sat back down in front of you, his shyness and boyish charm back, and you wondered if you had imagined the change only moments before. He sipped his coffee, and you did the same, forgetting that you even had one.
“Thanks,” you finally say, sliding your coffee between your hands on the table. “We ended on not-so-great terms, and he has a way of popping up randomly where I am. I have him blocked on all social media and even email, if you can believe that.” You feel anxious as you tell him this. In truth, you hate that you ended up in a relationship like that, no matter how short-lived it was. You had always thought you were smarter than that. Better than that, even.
“You don’t have to explain,” his eyes meeting yours before quickly adding, “not if you don’t want to, that is.” You smile at him. He genuinely seemed sweet, and then an idea popped into your head.
“Well, since we entered this fake relationship so quickly,” you start, leaning forward on your elbows. “Why don’t we get to know each other a bit?”
“Okay,” he takes a deep breath. “What do you want to know?” he offers, licking his bottom lip and biting it nervously. It makes your heart flutter for reasons you are unable to say.
“Well, let’s start with the most important- do you have a girlfriend?” Now it was your turn to bite your lip nervously as you waited for the answer. You didn’t miss the way his eyes drifted to your mouth before he coughed and met your eye once more.
“Oh, uh, no.” He struggles to find the words for a moment. “I have come to the conclusion I am not relationship material.”
“More of a hook-up guy?” You ask him curiously because you can’t imagine anyone not wanting to claim him as theirs, but then you realize you had only just met him not even twenty minutes ago and he could be a complete asshole. Something told you that wasn’t true, and you hoped it wasn’t that part of you that felt like you could always fix guys like this.
“Well, funny enough, I’m not really hook-up material either.” His cheeks burn red as he averts his eyes anywhere but to you. “I kinda get a little too attached for that kind of thing, which is why I’m not the relationship type either. Been told I’m too clingy, too needy.” Something about the self-deprecating way he says it makes your heart hurt for him.
“Maybe you just haven’t found your person.” You offer. “I have felt that way more times than not. Some people have a way of making you feel like you are unworthy of love.”
He nods while still not meeting your gaze. Your first question might have overstepped, but you thought it was important to address the existence of a possible significant other before talking about anything else.
“Besides Prince Charming, do you have a boyfriend?” he asked nervously, breaking the brief silence. You shook your head while he took another sip of his coffee, a nervous tick you figure.
“I am actually painfully single.” You tell him with a chuckle. “I think it’s my need for reassurance, you know? I have it in my head that maybe I’m too much sometimes. Too weird, too anxious, or I feel like I’m not living up to the image they had of me in their head.”
Bob laughs a little to himself before realizing it may seem rude or as if he is laughing at you. Then those blue eyes meet yours again, and you can see the panic in his eyes. “I’m sorry! I wasn’t laughing at you, I promise!” He starts muttering to himself, but it’s too quiet and quick for you to make out. Reaching a hand across the table, you grab his hand to get his attention. He freezes, and momentarily, you feel bad for startling him.
“You’re okay. I didn’t think you were laughing at me, " you assure him, slowly releasing his hand. You miss the way his fingers twitch towards your retracting hand.
“It’s just funny to hear someone else voice my thoughts.” He admits quietly, eyes lingering where your hand had been.
“How would you feel about taking a walk through the park while we finish our coffees?” you offer, and by the way his eyebrows shoot up and his eyes go wide, you can tell he is surprised. You can’t help the way the corners of your lips turn up into a smile. Something about him makes you want to keep on smiling.
“Uh, yeah sure, that sounds great.” He stumbles with his words.
“Let’s go.”
******
When you originally picked out your outfit of a long black skirt, a black cami with a short-sleeved cropped khaki button-up, and your platform black sandals, you didn’t intend to be walking around in this outfit. Cringing only a little bit, you can admit to yourself you felt cute and wanted to wander around bookstores and record stores looking all whimsy and cute in hopes of maybe landing a date and ending your lonely streak. In a way, you guess it kind of worked, but mostly with you doing all the work. Either way, it ended with you walking around the park on a very gray but beautiful spring day with a guy whose smile made your stomach fill with butterflies every time you saw it.
This is a win of sorts.
Bob was a delightful surprise. As the two of you walked, occasionally brushing arms, causing him to blush or look away nervously, you found that you had a fair bit in common. Neither of you were native New Yorkers and had moved here for work. He was very vague with his answer as to what he does for work. In his words, ‘an assistant of sorts to the New Avengers,’ and you figured it had to do with an NDA, why he wouldn’t elaborate more on the subject. You told him how you initially worked as a travel nurse, a way to get away from your hometown, and New York just was too hard to leave, and the manager of the unit you were contracted with offered you a full-time position, and you took it—basically, starting your life over here, making new friends through your coworkers, and so on. You worked midnights, but you didn’t mind it, as you always struggled with a normal sleep schedule.
“Do you ever miss home?” he asks. The two of you are now sitting on a bench, and despite the humidity in the air from the impending rain, it is still a little cool. You can’t help but sit close to him and bask in the warmth that radiates from him.
“Yes and no,” you told him, before thinking a little harder about it. “Not as much as someone would think I would.” It was easy talking to Bob, which is probably why you found yourself sharing what you did next. “I didn’t have the most stable childhood. My parents fought…a lot, and it could get intense. I used to wish they would divorce all the time as a kid. I used to hope the neighbors would call the cops when the yelling would start or when they could hear my dad destroy our house. But no one ever did. I tried to intervene a few times, but he was too strong and I would get hurt in the process.” Bob was silent, but you could tell he was listening to what you were telling him. He was waiting for you to continue.
“As I entered my teen years, it became harder to sit back and allow it. Soon, my dad and I would argue more. When I was 19 years old, it finally all came crumbling down.” Your chest felt a little heavy at this part, but you fought back the urge to cry and went on. “I knew his mood was off, I could feel it like you can feel it in the air before the rain comes. I was having a hard time with my anxiety, and he was making it worse, so my mom tried to get him to back off and leave me alone, which, of course, upset him as he took it personally. He shoved her, and they began to fight. Something inside of me finally broke, and I intervened like I never did before. I threw punches, I hit him with anything I could find, I even threw a trash can at him! But he was too strong.”
“What happened after?” Bob asked in a gravelly voice.
You huffed a bitter laugh. “Well, after exchanging insults that he knew would hurt me and I knew would hurt him, I packed up anything I deemed important and I left. I stayed with a friend for a bit, and I felt like a burden there, even though she assured me I could stay as long as I needed. Eventually, I found myself in a not-so-great relationship and moved in with him. I left, obviously, once I finished nursing school and somehow ended up here.”
Bob didn’t say anything for what felt like hours, though it was only a few minutes. You felt the dread start swooping in, the fear of oversharing growing stronger, and you felt too raw and too exposed. You just met him, surely this was too much to tell someone. He was probably trying to figure out how to exit this one-sided interaction and never see you again. Your chest started to feel tight, and you were desperate to get out of this.
“I’m sorry, that was way too much to share.I shouldn’t have dumped all of that on you I-”
“It’s okay,” He stopped your rambling by placing a hand on your knee, and it was insane how much it grounded you. You looked down at his hand on your knee, then up to his eyes, which were filled with an emotion you couldn’t place. Empathy? Understanding? Whatever it was, it felt comforting.
“My, uh,” He removed his hand from your knee and cleared his throat with a forced cough, his eyes looking ahead at a flock of birds that were taking flight a couple of yards ahead. “My dad was like your dad.”
“I’m sorry.” You say, though you know words never really make it better.
“He used to abuse my mom, used to abuse me when I would intervene.” He swallowed hard as he continued. “My mom used to tell me I was only making it worse. That I…” He trailed off, and you could hear how tight his voice had sounded. So you did what you usually hated when others did it to you, but it was the only thing that felt right. You wrapped your arms around him, trapping his arms at his sides in doing so.
“It wasn’t your fault.” You tell him gently. “It wasn’t right what he did or what she said, you were a kid, and they were the adults. It was never supposed to be on you.” You could feel him trying to control his breathing, and you loosened your hold slightly to allow him to do so. His hand reached up and grasped your arm, as if he was scared you’d let go of him. You don’t know how long the two of you sat there with your arms around him and your head resting on his shoulder, but neither one of you seemed to care.
Then you felt a sprinkle of rain start. It was only a few drops, but those few drops started to come down a little harder. It was then that you slipped your arms back from around him and wiped away the tears that had silently slipped by. You pretended not to notice him doing the same with the sleeve of his flannel as his hair blocked your view of his face.
“So not to change the subject, but since it’s about to rain-” You start.
“No, please do.” He encourages you, voice still low and gravelly, and it really shouldn’t turn you on, especially after the two of you just shared your childhood trauma in the middle of a park.
“I live a few blocks away, and I make some really good margaritas if you like that sort of thing and-”
“Yes.” He cut you off once again, a little breathless, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip to hold back the way his eagerness made you want to smile. “I would like that very much.”
“Okay.” You let your smile show this time, pushing the way his reciprocal smile makes your heart flutter.
******
The two of you practically ran to your apartment as the rain had begun to come down harder. The journey to your apartment building was something out of a comedy. Bob followed after you as you struggled to run in your sandals, which had gotten wet and were causing you to slip here and there. Still, he was quick to catch you by the arm here and there to keep you upright, and you couldn’t help but laugh when you had to grab him by his shirt sleeve a couple of times to guide him in the right direction.
Once you reached your building and led him inside, the clumsiness from the rain didn’t let up. The elevator only worked once in a blue moon, so you had to take the stairs to the fourth floor, where you lived. Your shoes were once again working against you as you tried not to slip and slide on each step while holding onto the railing for dear life. On one step, you nearly face planted, but Bob caught you by wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you back against his body.
“I got you,” his voice was low in your ear, tickling it and sending goosebumps down your skin. The brief moment you were pressed against him, you could feel how hard his body was, and you couldn’t help but picture what kind of muscles must be under his clothes.
“Thanks,” you blushed and tried to straighten yourself quickly. You couldn’t decide if you wanted to leave a bad or good review on these damn sandals. Maybe by the end of the night, you would know.
Your nerves were a jumbled mess as you finally reached your door, and you fished through your purse to find your keys. Once inside, you set your keys in the bowl on the small table by the door. Catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror hanging by the door, you couldn’t help but chuckle at your damp appearance.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” you announced as you walked into the living room. “Make yourself comfortable. The kitchen is straight ahead, the living room is just to the right of it, and the bathroom is right here.” You verbally give him a brief tour. “I still have the blow dryer out if you need it. I’m going to get started on those margaritas.” You say quickly, leaving him to decide where to go while you try to push thoughts of being pulled against his body out of your mind.
As you get everything out to make drinks, you find yourself hoping he likes your small apartment. It was white on white on white when you first moved it. Luckily, you had a landlord who didn’t care if you painted or not. The only thing you didn’t paint was the cabinets, which were a nice natural wood. You did paint the walls a nice sage green, which paired nicely with the burnt orange, yellow, and pink furniture and decor you chose. It felt cozy and vibrant to you, which you needed on the days you felt lonely.
You heard Bob exit the bathroom, his hair looking a little drier than when you first arrived. He cautiously walked into the living room, and you occasionally looked up from cutting the limes to observe him over the other side of the island. He looked over your living room, his attention caught by your turntable and records.
“I hope you like a salt rim because I've already done it,” you say as you walk over to him, drinks in hand. He takes the glass you offer him and quickly thanks you.
“You have quite a record collection,” he says abruptly as you sip your margarita. “Have you always collected records?”
“It was something my dad introduced me to as a kid. As I grew older, I built up my collection, and I like to think it's better than his,” you say smugly.
“Holy shit, this is a good margarita.” He says, surprised. “I’m not normally a drinker, but this is amazing.”
“Thanks.” You say, suddenly nervous. “I can also play music from my phone on the speakers. It’s all bluetooth capable. Anything in particular you want to listen to?”
“Oh, whatever you pick is fine with me; I’m not picky.” He says, seeming just as nervous as you. You find it amusing that you both are anxious for reasons you can’t even really explain.
“Well, I hope you like acoustic covers of 80s songs; that’s been my go-to lately.” You bend down to turn on your stereo before walking back to the kitchen counter to grab your phone, all while Bob stands unsure of himself in the living room. The rhythm of the rain outside is just loud enough to be heard over an acoustic cover of “Dancing in the Dark,” and you decide to sit on the couch, patting the cushion beside you for Bob to join you.
“Want to play a game?” You ask, and he eyes you curiously before answering.
“What kind of game?”
“I know you said you aren’t much of a drinker, but it’s a drinking game.” You explain. “But if you aren’t comfortable with that, we could substitute the drinking for something silly like a dare or a weird confession.”
“How do you play?”
You decided on truth or dare, but with a little more fun, in an attempt to relax Bob and yourself, and get to know him better. When you considered today's events, it seemed a little crazy to invite the guy you asked to be your fake boyfriend back to your apartment, but what else did you have planned on a Friday?
Through the game he learned that you had accidentally called someone the wrong name in bed because you weren’t into it adn imagined your celebrity crush, you toilet papered someone's house, snuck out successfully as a teenager to go to party where you may or may not have had your first kiss, and have a library book that is over ten years overdue. As for dares, you texted a random number telling them you loved them, spoke in a French accent for at least three rounds, and called a fast food restaurant to place a reservation, which confused them so much you felt a little bad.
What you learned about Bob was that he has tried more than one drug, has never had a one-night stand, has never attended a party in high school because he dropped out, has been to four countries, but cannot speak anything other than English. For dares, you dared him to show you his most embarrassing photo on his phone, which was him dressed in a chicken suit. He let you curl his eyelashes, and he did a handstand.
The drinking came in when a truth wouldn’t be answered and when the option was a dare and the dare was refused, a shot of tequila was the price. You both had finished your margaritas, and between the two of you, seven shots of tequila were taken, but you aren’t sure who had how many. Somehow, it might have been you because when you went to order takeout from the Chinese place down the street, you could barely hold your giggles in as Bob did everything in his power not to topple over while doing his handstand. In the end, he tumbled to the ground in a heap, but not before you got a glimpse of the abs you had been thinking about under his shirt. Thankfully, you could blame your red face on the tequila.
“So,” you begin as the two of you sit on the floor around your coffee table, eating your food. Your button-up is long gone as you sit in your skirt and cami, and you swear you see his eyes linger on your collarbone. “Did you think this was how your day would go?” He huffs out a laugh and shakes his head, setting his fork down, too tipsy for chopsticks, before meeting your gaze, and you feel warmth spread in your chest.
“Uh, no, I didn’t.” He blushes. “I didn’t have any expectations really, today was the first day all my roommates were gone for a few days, and I would be alone. So this was better than sitting around alone.”
“Well, as someone who sits around alone quite often, you are always invited.” You giggle at your words, and you use dark humor to mask what you really mean. “We should make it a club or something, but I think maybe starting a club for lonely people kind of defeats the purpose of being lonely. Don’t you think?”
“Well, yeah, just a little,” he says between bites of food. “Plus, I uh, kinda like it just us. I don’t feel lonely around you.” You see his cheeks grow red as soon as he says it, and you can’t say you don’t look the same. Was this him flirting or just paying a compliment? By the way, he is now avoiding your eyes on him, you think maybe flirting.
“I like hanging out with you, too, " you tell him after a beat of silence. The two of you avoid looking at each other as your food suddenly demands your attention.
After the two of you finish your food and the moon has come out, you decide to either continue the night or go your separate ways. You feel a pang in your chest at the thought of Bob leaving. Your eyes meet his as he sits across the coffee table from you, and you can’t help but wonder if the same thought is flowing through his mind. So you shoot your shot.
“You know, you’ve had a bit to drink and it's dark out now.” You look out the window as you go on. “It may rain again, plus no one is waiting up for you.”
“Right…” He says hesitantly, eager to hear you out.
“I don’t have any plans tomorrow. Maybe you could stay the night? We could watch a movie or something, and I can make you some passable, at best, breakfast. If you want, no pressure or anything.” You say quickly, averting your gaze to your stretched-out legs.
“Would you be okay with that?” he asks casually, but you swear you can hear the twinge of nerves behind it. “We only just met today. I wouldn’t be offended if you wanted me to leave.”
“No,” you say almost too quickly, but you find you don’t care. “I actually would really like it if you stayed. I’ve…I’m having a good time with you here.”
“Well, uh, sure then.” He swallowed nervously. “Okay.”
“Great, um, what kind of movies do you like? Or do you have a favorite?” You ask, quickly getting to your feet and clearing the coffee table without looking at him, suddenly feeling shy.
“Oh uh, well anything you want really.”
“Hmm,” you think for a moment as you dispose of the takeout containers. “Well, there is a scary movie I wanted to watch, but I hate watching them alone. Would you be up for that?”
“Sure.”
******
Out loud, the scary movie thing sounds cliche. But you really did want to watch this movie and were too much of a scaredy cat to watch it by yourself. It’s almost like it was supposed to play out like this. The two of you got comfortable on the couch, the lights were off, and you lit a couple of candles just in case the rain outside caused the power to go out. You weren’t sitting close enough to each other to touch, but there also wasn’t that much space between the two of you either. Sitting on the couch next to a guy, one you found yourself quickly drawn to, made you feel like a giddy 16-year-old again. Maybe it was his boyish charm that pulled you in.
Bob was quiet as the movie played, the only real sign of life he gave was when he carefully extended his arm across the back of the couch, he did it so casually you weren’t sure if it counted as ‘making a move’ or not so you didn’t do anything to embarrass yourself. That is, until there was a jumpscare moment in the movie that startled you so bad you found yourself pressed up against the side of him, and the arm that was resting on the couch was now around you as his hand rubbed your arm soothingly.
“Sorry,” you squeaked out embarrassingly.
“You don’t have to be sorry,” his voice was once again low and in your ear. There was no possible way he didn’t feel the goosebumps rippling through your skin. “Is this okay?” The arm around you stiffened, and the thought of him pulling away made you want to curl into more, but you refrained.
“Oh, yeah, this is fine,” you assure him as you relax into him, and you feel him do the same. As the movie goes on, you feel his thumb trace little circles against your shoulder. Eventually, you work up the courage to lean into him a bit more, letting your head rest against him in the process. This was fine, you told yourself. You could work with this. Nothing more had to come from this, but you wanted it to so badly you felt like you would combust. Being this close to him, you realize he didn’t smell like cologne or like a ‘guy’ but rather clean laundry. It was as if he had just come out of the dryer himself, and under that was a natural musk that was just him. It felt, well, it felt like somewhere you wanted to curl up and stay forever. You made a mental note to check your period tracker to see if you were ovulating and if that is why you are acting so crazy.
Just as you finish the thought and tell yourself you can totally be normal about being this close to him, a rather gory scene occurs on the screen, causing you to curse and bury your face into his chest. You barely register what you did when you feel the arm that was wrapped around you cradle your head into his chest as his other arm comes to wrap around you.
“It’s okay, it’s almost done,” that gravelly voice of his said into your hair, and it made you want to melt further into him. Against your better judgment, you decide to look up at him and nearly gasp at the way he is looking down at you. His eyes met yours head on, full of all the emotions you were trying to hold back, and his lips were parted ever so slightly, as if he wanted to speak but decided against it.
He must notice the way your eyes linger on his lips, the thought of them on your lip, and maybe even other places playing in your mind like a movie on a projector screen. There wasn’t that much space between you, and it would take almost no effort to close the gap. Maybe you would…
“C-can I kiss you?” he sounded as if he was fighting his mind, much like you.
“If you don’t kiss me, I’m going to kiss you.” You breathed out. As soon as you finished speaking, his lips crashed into yours, the hand that was cradling your head went to your neck as his fingers slid into your hair, and he grabbed hold gently but firmly, keeping your mouth pressed to his. Your hands rest on his chest, mapping out the way he feels while his other arm pulls you closer against him. He deepens the kiss, nibbling on your bottom lip, teasing you with slight brushings of his tongue, and before you know it, you’re being pulled onto his lap. Your skirt is pushed up as you straddle him, the hand in your hair not relenting as his other grips your thigh.
You can’t help the moan that escapes you, press your center down into him, feeling how hard he is. You roll your hips against him, testing his reaction and your pleased when his hand slides up your bare thigh to grab a handful of your ass. You give yourself mental praise for deciding to go with your lacey black thong today as he palms your ass and feels the exposed skin. You break the kiss to gasp out a moan when his hips buck up into you and rubs against your clit perfectly and his mouth moves to your neck.
“Fuck…” you breathe out, a ahnd resting on his shoulder while your other gets lost in his hair. He stiffens suddenly and leans back, trying to put distance between your bodies.
You open your eyes and are about to ask him why he stopped when you see how terrified he looks. His hands go to your waist to steady you so you don’t fall backwards, and you move your hands to rest on his forearms.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he stutters out nervously. You said okay to kiss, and I…I took it too far. I should go.” He tries to remove you from his lap gently, but you squeeze your thighs together to prevent his legs from moving as you cup his face with both hands.
“Hey, hey, wait a minute,” you steady his face and make him look at you, he seems so mortified it hurts your heart, and for a moment you wonder if maybe he didn’t want to do more with you. But then you remember the way he was grabbing your ass. “Bob, look at me. I wanted you to kiss me. I liked the way you were touching me, I wanted…I want more. If that’s something you want.” You make sure he sees you are being sincere as you talk to him. “I don’t want you to feel pressured to do anything, but I am more than okay with this.”
“You want this, too? " he asks sheepishly, and you nod with a smile. “You’re okay with…with more?”
“Yes. To both, yes,” you answer back, nodding your head eagerly as you both lean forward to close the distance between you. His hands are moving, and you feel one hand slide under your skirt, gripping your hip as the other one slides under your camisole and up your back. You're gripping the back of his neck and his hair. Before you know i,t you’re grinding against him again, desperate for the friction from before as his tongue traces your bottom lip.
You want more. You want to feel more of him and you make that known when you start pushing his flannel shirt down his shoulders hoping he would get the hint. Luckily he does and shimmies an arm free one at a time so he keeps a hold of you the whole time. Before he can try to remove any of your clothing, you start tugging at his t-shirt next and all you can think about is seeing his bare torso.
“Take this off…before…I lose…my mind,” you murmur against his lips.
“Yes, ma’am. " He complies by quickly and clumsily pulling the shirt over his head. As soon as he does, your hands run up and down his chest and abdomen, taking in and appreciating the muscles you just knew were there.
His hips grind up into you, and you can tell he is as desperate to rid you of your clothes as well. You feel his hand start tugging your camisole up and above your head, tossing it where his t-shirt went. He sits back, and for a moment, you think he is about to stop again, but he doesn’t. Bob’s hands trace up your sides, coming up to your black laced covered breast. He thumbs at your nipples while caressing you, and all you can do is rock your hips against him as you sit before him in your bra and skirt. You close your eyes as you circle your hips against him, finding the right amount of friction you need. His fingers trail along the band of your bra towards the clasp, and feel the garment fall loose as he pulls it from you.
“You’re so beautiful,” he practically whispers, and you only just hear him. His mouth his mouth is on your breast and his tongue is swirling around your nipple, he teases you with a nibble and sucks hard.
“Pl-please,” you beg, grinding yourself harder against him. An arm wraps around your waist and helps guide your hips against him while he sucks and palms at your chest. “Please, please, please!” You continue to beg.
“Tell me what you want, I’ll give it to you.” His voice is hoarse and low, and it does something to you. For a moment, you think his words might be able to get you off. But that’s not what you want. No, you want him.
“You, I need you, please.” You cry out as he pinches your nipple. He shifts and positions you on your back along the couch. Looking up at him through hazy eyes, you feel heat flood your core at the sight of him kneeling before you, shirtless and breathing heavily, looking like he wants to devour you. Maybe he will. You hope he will.
“How do you want me?” He asks, hands rubbing up and down your thighs, which you can’t help but let fall open to him. You can feel the heat of his gaze fall between your legs, where you are sure your lace panties are soaked. You shift your hips in hopes he’ll know what you mea,n and by the way he shivers, you think he does.
“Off,” you say, and start tugging your skirt down, and he helps pull it down.
“You’re sure?” He asks, torn between meeting your gaze and eyeing the area he wants to give attention to.
“Bobby, please, please for the love of God!’ You beg, wiggling your hips. It was enough for him to lower himself down between your thighs. You wait impatiently for him to remove the last scrap of clothing you have on, but he doesn’t. Instead you’re met with the sensation of his nose and hot tongue running up and down the gusset of your panties before sucking your clit through the lace. You moan and whimper, torn between enjoying what he’s doing to you and wanting more.
Luckily, you didn’t have to wait much longer. You felt him tug your panties to the side and soon his fingers were delciately moving through your folds, grazing your clit before venturing down to tease your entrance. It felt unbearable, you felt ready to combust.
“You’re so wet,” his voice filled your ears as he continued to torture and tease you. “Is it all for me?” He asked not in cocky way, but as if he really wanted to know.
“Yes, it’s all for you.” You panted, moving your hips to chase after his fingers. “Just for you.” He rewarded you by pushing a finger inside you, and you couldn’t help but want more. Watching as you writhed, he pushed another in, slowly drawing them out and pushing back inside. His pace was killing you.
“You look so pretty like this,” he breathed out. “So fucking pretty.” Your eyes were closed shut but the moment you felt his hot tongue on your clit they shot open. You couldn’t help yourself, propping yourself up on your elbows, you looked down to watch him eat you out, and it was a glorious sight. His fingers still pumped in and out of your as he lapped at your clit, his hair haning messily in front of him as he rested his head against your thigh. He looked comfortable and content down there, and the sight made you wetter.
“You taste so good,” he murmured into your pussy and his words turned you on, you could feel your orgasm rapidly growing.
“Fuck, just like that,” you whined as his fingers found that sweet spot inside of you. “Oh fuck right there! Don’t stop, don’t stop, please don’t stop I’m gonna cum!” Your orgasm came on quickly and strongly and you could feel how tightly your walls clamped down around his fingers which he kept pumping in and out of you as he sucked your clit before removing his fingers and lapping at the wetness that seeped out of you.
Tears came to your eyes as you felt a second orgasm ripple through you as he continued to lick and suck, and the tears were streaming down your face. You weren’t sure if it was from how good your release felt, the feeling of him in general, or just this whole evening.
You didn’t get to think about it too long before you felt arms wrap around you, holding you tightly against a warm and muscular body. Strong hands were rubbing up and down your back while a strong arm kept you in place.
“Shh, it’s alright.” Bob’s voice brought you back and you nuzzled your face into his chest. “Are you okay? Did I do too much?” You shook your head, but somehow you knew he would need reassurance that this wasn’t a bad thing- that he didn’t do anything wrong. So you pressed your lips to his neck and began kissing a path up to his mouth.
“No, you were perfect,” you promise. “I haven’t felt that good in…well, maybe ever.” You planted more kisses on his cheeks and mouth before pushing his hair out of his face and cradling his cheek. “I…it was intense, but in a good way.”
“Yeah?’ He asked, looking proud of himself but still somehow looking a bit shy. “What, uh, what else can I do to make you happy?” His eyes searched yours, eager to please you and to be praised.
“Fuck me.” You say bluntly. “I want you to fuck me and then I want you to hold me. Can you do that?”
“Yes,” he said breathlessly and began to undo his jeans. You helped slide them down and his boxer briefs. His cock sprang free and you instantly grabbed it, giving it a few appreciative strokes. He was thick and decent length, too. For some reason you had the urge to do something you normally hated and shimmied down his body so you were face to face with his more than adequate cock and you guided him into your mouth.
“I…I thought you wanted…wanted me to fuck you.” He panted out as you suck and stroked his length, swirling your tongue around the tip. You pulled him out of your mouth with a pop before answering him.
“I do, but I also wanted to taste you.” You grinned mischievously up at him. “I’m going ride you next, then you can fuck me.”
“O-okay,” he stammered out, eyes clenched shut as you licked up his length once more before moving to straddle him. Gripping him firmly, you lined yourself up with the tip of him before lowering yourself down, you couldn’t help but let out a moan as you seated yourself completely on. You rolled your hips experimentally, finding the right rhythm before sticking with one.
“Fuck you feel so good.” you whimpered out as you began to ride him faster. “I think I’m gonna cum again.”
Bob’s hands were on your hips instantly, guiding you and helping you along to a speed that suited you both. “Your pussy feels so fucking good…so tight and wet…want you to cum on my cock…want to feel you drench me..” his words went straight to your pussy and your clit finally found the right amount of friction against his pelvis and before you knew it your walls began to flutter.
“Oh god, I’m coming!” You cried. “I’m coming, I’m coming!” Bob thrusted up into you at a frantic pace, fucking you through your third orgasm. Your body tensed and untensed repeatedly until you were trembling from the aftershocks. Still catching your breath, Bob flipped you so he was now above you, and all without pulling out. As you were still coming down from your orgasm Bob began fucking you hard into the couch cushions. He wrapped an arm under you to shift your hips to a better angle as he relentlessly pounded into you. You had never felt so full as his tip continuously bumped into your cervix.
“I’m gonna cum,” he grunted into your neck. “Where?”
“Inside, please inside me.” You desperately pulled him into you, grabbing wherever you could find a hold. You felt his hips start to stutter before he thrust into you roughly two more times and stilled. His body began to go limp, but he didn’t move to get off of you, and you didn’t loosen your hold on him. You stayed like that for minutes, both of you breathing heavily and feeling totally and thoroughly fucked.
“I’m gonna move, okay?”
You nodded and as soon as he withdrew from you, you missed him even though he was behind you, wrapping his arms around you and holding you tightly against him.
“Was that okay?” He asked nervously.
“That was actually fucking amazing.” You laughed out. “I don’t think sex has ever made me feel like that.”
“Do you mean that?” he asked quietly. You rolled around in his arms so you could face him. Those blue eyes met yours, and you understood the term “swoon” in that moment.
“I like you, a lot. More than I should after one day,” you tell him, and push his messy hair back. “And I am pretty sure I just had the best sex I will ever have in my entire life. It was amazing, you were amazing.” You kissed his forehead once before kissing the tip of his nose. “Now, I believe you agreed to cuddling.” The smile he gave you could light up the room. He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips before pulling the throw blanket from the back of the couch to cover you both.
“I’m so glad I agreed to be your fake boyfriend.” He said into your hair as you nuzzled into him.
“Me too.”
