Warnings: 18+ Only, Genre typical violence, Warlord Nomad AU, Dark Fantasy AU, Enemies to lovers, Eventual smut, References to past abuse, Fighting, Monsters, Animal Death, Violence, Mildly described gore
A growl rumbles in Steve’s chest.
“Say it again.” He plucks at the ties of your belt with one hand as the other caresses the curve of your hip.
“I want you to touch me,” you repeat, and his head falls back as he inhales deep—drawing in the scent of your arousal again before he turns dark eyes back on you. One by one the knots come undone until the belt falls to the floor, useless. Somehow you feel more exposed without it as Steve begins to trace the shape of your body through the thin fabric of your dress.
“Challenge is done,” he mumbles quietly, so quietly you almost don’t know he’s spoken. Steve cups your breast through the dress, circling your nipple with his finger. “Can touch now, b’cause you’re mine.” He draws you closer, the hand on your hip slipping down to cup the curve of your backside. He squeezes, humming with pleasure.
Oh Gods—
You burn for him. The thought of his hands on you, the feel of them—is addicting. This is nothing, nothing like your scant encounters in the village. Their hurried, selfish touches are nothing like the gentle, reverent passes of Steve’s calloused hands. Like you’re breakable.
“Bed.” He buries his face against your throat, his teeth tugging gently at the skin there. Steve growls the word, a command you’re all too eager to follow. You scarcely make it two steps before Steve has swept you up into his arms, depositing you onto the furs with a huff. His hands are on you before you’ve even taken a breath, stroking up your sides, and finally, finally, skimming beneath the slitted sides of your dress. His palm is warm against your belly, sliding down to cup you through your undercoverings.
You whine, writhing against his hand.
“Please, Steve,” you moan breathlessly. You’ve waited weeks for this, but it feels like it’s been years. He groans at the sound of your hushed plea. “I want—”
“Tell me,” he rasps, pressing his forehead against yours. “Ask.”
“I need you.” The words have barely left your lips before he begins to pull the dress Carol had bought you over your head. Your face warms as his gaze roams over your exposed skin hungrily. You attempt to squeeze your thighs together to relieve the pressure growing there, but Steve’s large hand is already there, stroking the seam of your cunt through the fabric with gentle fingers. Steve lowers his head, nostrils flaring as he drags his tusks along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. You shiver.
“Do you ache for me, Little One?” He followed his tusks with his tongue, and a sharp gasp escapes from between your parted lips.
“Yes!” His fingers are so big, you can feel them so clearly through the linens, and you cannot help but wonder how they’ll feel inside the wet, demanding place between your thighs.
“You ache because you’re empty, Sweetmeat,” his breath fans across your aching center, where his fingers, play at the edges of your last remaining scrap of modesty. “Don’t worry. Soon I’ll make sure your cunt knows only the shape of my cock.”
And then the fabric is gone and he is touching you and oh—
Your fingers tangle in the sheets and in his hair as his fingers slide through your twitching, soaking folds. He hums, holding your wide eyed gaze as he lifts them to his lips. You lick your own.
“What do I taste like, Orc?” You ask breathlessly, and he nips your thigh.
“Like storms.” And then his fingers are pushing at your entrance, stretching you until you forget how to breathe. Until it feels like there’s no room inside you for more air. Until you squeal, hips rocking against his hand as you stare up at the wooden beams of the roof, not truly seeing them. You’re so full, so deliciously, exquisitely full that you can only pant. Steve lets out a broken, hungry sound when you clench down hard around his fingers.
“M’full,” you whimper as his thumb circles your clit.
“I’m gonna have to stretch you, Sweetmeat. Can you take another?” A third finger begins to probe at your cunt, already stretched tight around his index and middle fingers.
“A-another?” You mumble, your voice sounding distant in your own ears, dreamy. There was a lewd, wet squelch as he presses into you again. Your eyes roll. “Steve—” You’re full to bursting, his fingers stretching you far beyond what was possible with your own. His long, devilish tongue curls around the sensitive nub of flesh, tugging on it until you loose another keening cry, wetness gushing around his fingers.
You’re coming for him, his tongue and hand buried in your cunt, hips rocking softly against his face.
Good, so good.
“Savor it, Sweetmeat,” he says as you twitch and moan around his fingers. “The next will be on my cock.” You clench at his words, and Steve chuckles as he pulls his digits from inside you with a wet, slick noise. “Greedy little mate.” You watch, face hot and body tingling as he cleans his hand with that wicked tongue, licking each finger clean of your slick. He savors the taste with lidded eyes.
When he stands, you can see his kilt tented out obscenely, evidence of his arousal. Even as the aftershocks of your bliss still ripple through you, your cunt gives a hungry squeeze at the sight. Steve inhales deeply, laughing even as his eyes darken, and the massive shape beneath his kilt twitches.
“Greedy.” He repeats, shaking his head. “That’s all you’ll get for now.”
Gently, Steve cleans the mess from between your legs with a wet cloth, before he helps you dress in one of the dresses Carol had obtained from her brother. Selfishly, you want to cling to him when he tells you he has to prepare for the Blooding, and the celebration afterward. It transforms into an awkward sort of shame when you climb down from your room to find Carol in the kitchen, cutting up vegetables for the evening meal. She grins as you descend, your entire body hot with embarrassment.
At the threshold, Steve cups your face. His expression is soft.
“Until moonrise, Little One.” You place your hand over his own.
Summary: You’re Chris’s assistant and have been for a few years. You know him better than he knows himself and your playful banter leaves both of you wondering if there’s more to your relationship than meets the eye.
Warnings: Language (obviously), Alcohol, weed, a smidge of poorly written smut (18+ Minors DNI), unprotected sex (be safe, kids).
A/N: guys, I really tried to do it for ya.. I tried to make this part super smutty and I JUST CAN’T. I’m gonna get there eventually… but this ain’t it… Sorry folks. (now taking volunteers to write smut for me lmfao)
This part feels kinda bleh, so i apologize in advance
BOLD + ITALICS = Flashbacks
Series Masterlist
*The Next Morning*
You rolled over, slipping your arm around Chris’s bare chest, a sigh of contentment leaving your lips as you snuggled into his side. You watched the slow rise and fall of his chest as you traced circles onto his skin, the morning sun peeking through the curtains in your room. Your room…. Chris was here, in your bed with you... on purpose and sober. He loved you. And you loved him.
You looked up at him when he shifted a little, his arm tightening around you as he woke up.
He smiled, blinking a couple of times before he kissed your temple, “Good morning.”
“Morning,” you responded, a cheesy grin spreading across your lips.
“You’re happy,” he said simply as he smirked.
“Mmm,” you hummed, your smile growing wider. You bit your bottom lip thinking about last night.
*LAST NIGHT*
Your toes curled, legs shaking as Chris fucked you through your second orgasm in less than 10 minutes, “Fuck, Chris--oh my god!” You arched your back as his hips jerked, increasing the pace as he chased his own release.
His breathy moans on your neck were enough to make you come undone all over again. You’d imagined this moment in your head a million times, but only ever as a drunken hook up, no feelings or strings attached. This was... different. Without ever being intimate with you before, Chris knew your body. He knew how to make you come undone, he knew exactly where to kiss you and touch you, he knew you. And that was what made it better than anything you’ve ever had before.
You gripped the back of his neck, digging your fingernails into his bare skin as you rode out your orgasm, your whole body tingling under his touch, “Come for me, Chris.” You cooed, wrapping your legs around his waist.
He groaned, “God-- Y/N, you feel s’good.” his pace faltered for a second as he got closer, a stifled moan vibrating through his chest. Shifting his weight, he reached up and pulled your hands from his neck, pinning them behind your head. He buried his face in your neck as he thrusted harder, “Fuck!” he groaned, his body going limp as he finished inside of you.
You let out a small moan when he pulled out, releasing your hands from his grip and rolling to the side.
“Fuck, Y/N.”
You let out a small, breathy laugh, “God, you’re telling me.” You looked over at him, beads of sweat falling from his forehead. Shaking your head, you let out a small laugh, “That was…”
“Fucking amazing,” he laughed, turning onto his side and propping himself up onto his elbow, “Why did we wait so long to do that?”
You turned to face him, resting your head on your arm, “Well, I don’t remember all of their names, but we could start with Nicole and make our way down the list,” you teased.
He rolled his eyes, “Oh, shut it.”
“Hey, you asked,” you laughed, scooting over and settling into his side. Looking up, you brushed your fingers through his hair, “I love you.”
He smiled, stroking your cheekbone with his thumb, “I love you.” He brought his lips to yours, his tongue brushing against your bottom lip.
You pulled away, smiling at him, “Easy, tiger.”
He smiled, “I mean, can you blame me? That was... the best that I’ve ever had. I mean,” he paused, shaking his head, “fuck, Y/N. That was amazing.”
“Well, I don’t wanna speak for you, but there’s no rush tonight,” you paused, smiling up at him, “we have plenty of time to... catch up. We do spend a LOT of alone time together.”
His eyes lit up at the realization, “How are you gonna keep our hands off of each other?”
“I have no idea.”
“What are you thinking about?” Chris smirked as you shivered, his fingertips running up and down your spine.
You sighed, “What am I not thinking about? Last night, last night, last night, I mean... did I mention last night?”
He chuckled, kissing your temple again, “Well, it’s like you said, we have plenty of time to catch up.”
You rolled onto your belly, propping yourself up on your elbows, “I should probably head to venue... Gotta help Kim with clean up.”
He nodded, “I’ll tag along, you care if I shower?”
“Yeah, go for it. The towels are in the cabinet next to the sink,” you leaned over, pressing a kiss to his shoulder, “I have a pair of your sweats, actually. I’ll grab them…” you wiggled out of his grip, wrapping your sheet around yourself before standing, “Maybe I’ll join?”
He smiled, standing and making his way to the bathroom, “I think I’d like that.”
“Be right there,” you promised, walking into the living room to grab the sweats that you’d borrowed from him on your birthday. You combed through your living room, looking for the bag they were in when you heard a knock at your door.
You furrowed your brows, not sure who it could be. Looking through the peephole, you saw Leah. “Jesus, of course.” You pulled the door open slightly, just enough for your head to poke through, “Hey… what’s up?”
“You texted me last night… seemed pretty upset, so I thought I’d bring some coffee,” she answered, raising the coffee cup in her hand.
You looked back, making sure Chris wasn’t coming out, “Oh, thank you… uh-- now’s not a good time, I--”
Her mouth dropped open, “You had sex.”
“Leah!”
She grinned, “You did!!!” She tried to make her way in, but you kept the door shut, “Oh my god, is he still here?” She asked, her voice lowering to a whisper.
“Yes,” you hissed through clenched teeth, “It’s not a good time.”
“I want details like right now--”
You cursed under your breath when Chris walked into your living room, wrapped in a towel, “I can’t figure out your shower.”
You weren’t sure how it was possible, but Leah’s grin spread even wider, “OH MY GOD.” She pushed the door, her mouth dropping open when she saw Chris, “OH MY GOD!” She repeated, her one free hand covering her mouth, “CHRIS?!”
“LEAH!” You exasperated, giving Chris an apologetic glance before turning back to her, “GO!”
She let out an excited giggle, “Okay, okay, I’m gone! Looking good, Chris!” She laughed again before winking at you and pulling the door shut.
You leaned against the door and sighed, “I’m sorry…”
“Ahhh so that’s Leah?” He asked, laughing.
You walked towards him and nodded, “Leah, yeah. So cat’s out of the bag. Everyone will know soon,” you groaned. You wished you were kidding, but your entire friend group would know immediately. They probably already did.
“Who cares if everyone knows?” He shrugged, pulling you into a hug and kissing the top of your head.
“You?” You looked up at him, raising an eyebrow, “You’re always so secretive and private with the girls you bring home.”
He cupped your chin, placing a soft kiss to your lips, “I can absolutely tell you that this is not the same.”
You smiled softly, “So, about that shower?”
A few weeks later, you sat in the passenger's seat of Chris’s car on your way to Lisa’s. You’d been seeing each other for almost a month and figured it was probably time to tell his family that you were together. You were keeping everything pretty quiet with the public, but it was definitely time to tell Lisa. She’d kill you if you waited any longer.
You pulled into the driveway, rubbing your sweaty palms against your jeans, “Why am I so nervous?” You laughed, looking over at Chris.
He reached over, squeezing your hand gently, “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“Oh I know. I think she loves me more than she loves you,” you teased, “I’m just nervous. This feels like such a big step, even though I’m pretty sure everyone already has their suspicions..”
He rolled his eyes, “How was I supposed to know that she was coming over?”
“It was on the google calendar, Christopher!”
“Well, then technically, you should’ve known, too,” he laughed.
You shook your head, “You know, I now understand the meaning ‘Assuming makes an ass out of you and me’. I should’ve known that she didn’t cancel and that you just wanted in my pants!”
You rolled off the couch onto the floor, eyes wide as Lisa made her way inside. Normally, it wouldn’t be a problem that you were here, but being completely topless while straddling Chris probably would’ve been a dead giveaway that something was going on between the two of you. You were thankful that Dodger was outside at the moment and not trying to get your attention on the floor.
You stared at Chris, unsure of what to do. He climbed off of the couch, walking towards her, “ma! Hey! What are you doing here?”
Staring at the ceiling, you waited for Chris to give you some kind of hint that you could get up.
“I told Y/N I was planning on stopping by last week! I have lunch.” You heard the crinkle of a plastic bag, meaning she was planning on making it here, “Speaking of which, is she here? I want to talk with her about your schedule next month.”
He cleared his throat, “Why don’t you come with me to the study? We can look at the calendar?” He suggested.
“Well, okay?” You listened to their footsteps, remaining hidden on the floor until the door shut.
Quickly, you stood up and threw on your bra, yanking your shirt on and smoothing it out.
A few seconds later, they emerged from the study, “Wait, Ma--” He looked over seeing you clothed in the kitchen, “Oh, hey Y/N.”
You cleared your throat, “Hey, door was unlocked. I let myself in. Hi.”
Lisa looked at you and then Chris, obviously trying to keep a smile from forming, “Hello... I’m making lunch, care to join us?”
You nodded, “yeah, okay.”
She walked over to the kitchen, “Y/N…”
“Yeah?” You turned to face her, smiling.
“Your shirt.. It’s inside out, honey.”
You felt your cheeks burn, “Right… I uh-- was running late this morning, I’ll just run to the bathroom and fix that,” you chuckled nervously, walking to the bathroom as Lisa let out a small laugh.
“I mean…”
You shook your head, “She knows, Chris. She knows. She’s just too nice to say anything. She wants us to tell everyone when we’re ready.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” He chuckled, “Alright, let’s do this.”
You’d been to plenty of Sunday dinners before, Lisa never wanted you to feel left out. But this time, it was obviously different. You and Chris were a couple now… and you were planning on telling everyone tonight.
Making your way to the front door, you smiled when Chris reached over and squeezed your hand gently, “Ready?”
You nodded, “Ready.”
He let go of your hand when you walked inside, Chris immediately being greeted by Miles.
“Uncle Chris!!!” He yelled, jumping into his arms.
Chris laughed, “Hey, buddy!” He swung Miles back and forth, his legs flailing as he laughed. Once he set Miles down, he was whisked away to the backyard.
“Y/N! Hey!” Carly walked through the living room, stopping when she saw you by the front door, “Why are you standing by the door?” She chuckled.
“Chris was here 2 seconds ago, Miles pulled him to the backyard.”
She smiled, wrapping you in a hug, “I see things have been… resolved…?”
“Yeah, you could say that.” You laughed, “Does Lisa need help?”
“She wouldn’t say no!”
About an hour or so later, you were all sitting around the dining room table, laughing at Stella and Chris arguing over who would win in a foot race.
You took a sip of water, smiling at Chris over the brim of your glass. He reached over, resting his hand on your thigh and squeezing gently. You nodded slightly, knowing he was asking for your approval to share with his family.
He cleared his throat, “So… I have some news.”
Lisa smiled, looking at you. She totally knew…
“Y/N and I… Have… started seeing each other. We’re dating,” he stated, a smile spreading across his lips.
“OH MY GOD!” Carly squealed, clasping her hands together, “That’s awesome, you guys!”
Shanna smiled, reaching over and placing her hand on your arm, “Congratulations! We were all waiting for this.”
Your face burned from the attention, “Thank you, everyone.” You looked over at Chris, and smiled, squeezing his hand gently.
“So what brought this on?” Scott asked, taking a sip of water.
Chris smiled, “Y/N getting some guy's number and me getting jealous, i guess,” he shrugged.
You raised an eyebrow, “You guess? That’s exactly what happened, Evans,” you laughed.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
20 minutes later, you stood at the kitchen sink helping Lisa with the dishes while Chris entertained the kids in the living room. She passed another dish to you as you watched Chris, smiling as he blew a raspberry on Stella’s belly, making her burst out in laughter.
“It’s about time you two admitted what you were feeling,” she elbowed you gently, a small smile on her lips.
“Yeah, I know. I think we were both just too scared to ruin the friendship. You know... hostile work environment and what not,” you responded, drying the dish and setting it in the cabinet.
She handed you another dish, watching you watch Chris, “Y/N, I couldn’t have handpicked anyone better for him,” she paused and took a breath, “You are his other half. I’m so glad you both finally realized it.”
You dried your hands, pulling her into a hug, “Thank you, Lisa. For everything.”
She squeezed you gently, pulling away and resting her hands on your shoulder, “Word of advice?”
You nodded, “Sure.”
“Always make sure the front door is locked… and that your shirt is on correctly.”
You groaned, burying your face in your hands, “Oh god, okay. Let’s never talk about this again,” your ears burning.
“SOOOOO, how is it? The sex, I mean, I don’t care about anything else,” Leah laughed, taking a sip of her mimosa.
You groaned, “Leah, come on. I just wanna eat my brunch in peace.”
“Well, if you wanted that, you wouldn’t have invited her,” Fiona teased, Leah sticking her tongue out and rolling her eyes.
You laughed, “Very mature.”
“But... I am also curious about how things are going,” Fiona smiled, taking a bite of her toast.
You shrugged, “I mean, fine.” you tried to stop the goofy grin from spreading across your face, “I really love him. I don’t know why I told myself I didn’t for so long. We’re... so happy. And it’s only been a month. It’s kinda crazy.”
Jenna smiled, “Awwww, this is adorable. Look at you, so in love!”
You shook your head, taking a sip of your coffee to hide your smile, “Oh shut it.”
“In all seriousness, I’m very happy for you Y/N,” Leah admitted, “Jealous... I mean, the man is... fucking hot. But happy.”
“God, Leah!” you laughed, “Okay, next topic, moving on.”
Fiona reached over and gave your hand a gentle squeeze as Leah and Jenna moved on to another topic, “I’m really happy for you, Y/N, truly. I’ve never seen you smile like this.”
You bit your bottom lip, smiling at her, “Thanks, Fi. I’m really happy, too.”
About: Chris Evans and his girlfriend break up so he comes crawling back to his friend’s door, only they’re a little more. They have been for a long time, although it takes a fight and a nasty phone call from a scorned ex for them to realize it.
Word Count: 3,638
Warning(s): There’s a makeout in this fic. Nothing I would particularly classify as nsfw, but just a heads up.
Requested By: Anonymous! Thanks for sending this in, I’m always happy to write reqs. Another thanks for being patient with me. x
My phone rang.
I was done for the day, just for the record. My bra was off, my feet were up, my wine was in reach, and my favorite trashy reality t.v. show was on.
Then my phone flashed, turning that dark grey color it does when there isn’t a contact picture. But instead of an unfamiliar number, there was a contact name. Chris’s Gf.
Now, I know it was rude not to save her contact with her name. Granted I couldn’t even be bothered to type out ‘girlfriend,’ almost as if she was dispensable or something. But, in my defense, I genuinely couldn’t remember what it was when Chris made a group chat to plan an introduction dinner with all of his friends from back home. You’d think it’s a very significant thing, all the girls he brought to Boston at one point or another did, but anyone who knew Chris also knew he tended to jump the gun.
She’d managed to stick around for a few months though, so I really should’ve learned her name. Thankfully, when my thumb made contact with the green circle, there wasn’t a need for pleasantries since she was already screaming at me.
“It’s all your fucking fault, you know,” she spit into the speaker. Her audio was kind of grainy, like she was talking through her car’s bluetooth. Plus, I could barely hear her over the blaring horns and sirens of Boston’s all too familiar traffic. I could imagine her manicured claws wrapping so tight around her steering wheel that her knuckles turned white as she snarled, “Chris doesn’t have any more fucking time for anyone else because he’s too busy fucking you.”
“Woah, woah, woah,” I started, buying time for my brain to catch up to her mouth’s pace. “We never-”
“Oh, don’t fuck with me,” she cut me off, laughing cynically. “I know about you two, he told me months ago. Told me you were only friends now though, so I’m not sure what to believe at this point.”
“But we never did anything since he met you!” I defended, my voice coming out more loud and shrill than I’d intended. I sighed in an attempt to compose myself. “We are friends,” I stressed, calmer now. I started pacing nervously as I pinched between my eyes.
“Oh,” she said dramatically between gritted teeth. “That’s where you’re wrong, with this whole innocent little ‘friends’ thing.”
And, while I’m sure she’d felt like I was finally trapped in the corner, right where she wanted me, that’s exactly where she’d lost me. Because the whole ‘friends’ thing was exactly that to me, innocent. Platonic. Sure, I enjoyed the kind of relationship Chris and I had when we were both single and looking to have a little fun, but we also respected our boundaries and other partners enough to call it quits. Never had either of us crossed that line.
“Whatever you want to call it. It’s not that to Chris at least,” she continued to seethe, “it’s why he can’t have a real relationship. I’m sure it’s true for you too, with your boyfriends. It ended because he’s got one foot in the door and the other out of it. You’re always standing in the way, it’s your fault.”
Leave it to this girl I barely know, in the loosest sense of the term, to read me like an open book, like she knew everything between my covers. Things I hadn’t even written yet.
“I…” I stumbled over explaining myself. “I-it isn’t like that,” my shaky voice stuttered, not even able to convince myself. It isn’t like she knows me or my relationship with Chris. It isn’t like he cheated on her. It isn’t like I’ve ever tried to hold him back in any relationship, let alone theirs.
But it isn’t like that was what she was accusing us of. It isn’t like my doorbell didn’t ring, a heavy, steady knock reverberating. It isn’t like there wasn’t a deep voice, one as familiar as my heartbeat and scratchy from being strained in a yelling match, asking to come in. It isn’t like I couldn’t imagine the deep blue of his bedroom eyes, twinkling between these sultry dark lashes, like that thought didn’t spark an insatiable fire in my stomach that snatched every bit of air in my chest. It isn’t like either of us were surprised.
“Bet that’s him now,” she hissed, as if she hadn’t struck me already. Hadn’t poisoned my thoughts, making me feel simultaneously sick to my stomach. “You two deserve each other.” She scoffed before hanging up.
“I’m sorry,” I confessed to my home screen, half-hoping she’d hear it anyway. Probably to relieve my own guilt, this terrible feeling completely repressing my lungs. So that was why I couldn’t breathe.
She planted this seed, this terrible, rotten, famine-inducing sort of seed, in the bottom of my stomach. It latched onto me, expanding roots I’d trip over and growing until its branches coiled around my heart and constricted my lungs.
Then Chris rang my doorbell again, calling out my name. Rambling, probably under the impression that he was the only one who could hear anyway. Saying that he’s sorry he didn’t call first, but he was stressed. He had this tension he needed me to relieve, and that made for some of the best nights.
I tried to talk, but it came out as a cough.
“We…” Chris trailed off. I could almost see him, kicking at my stoop with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. Hands I wanted tangled in my hair, roaming along every one of my body’s curves. Biting his chapped lips anxiously. Lips I wanted on mine, teeth I wanted leaving marks on my neck for the next few days.
“We broke up,” he said, no sign of anything other than frustration. Frustration I wanted him to take out on me, so desperately, burying me between my mattress’s springs.
I opened the door, although I wasn’t sure if I was ready to let him in. Still grappling with the shell-shock from his ex’s phone call, I smiled. “I had a feeling,” I told Chris, but I wasn’t sure he took it how I meant it.
Just by the way the corner of his lips turned up in a smirk, he had me. He leaned against my door’s frame as a chuckle reverberated from deep in his chest, right where I felt that glint in his eye tugging at my lust. “She called you?” Chris asked incredulously, thick eyebrows taking off as he stared at the phone in my hand. “Fuck, I knew she was crazy, but…” he trailed off, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. He shrugged and said, “Saves me the breath, I guess.”
And still, Chris took more from me.
His lips were on mine in moments, kissing me with such a force that the two of us stumbled into my living room. Chris kicked the door closed behind him and I pushed him back into it, grabbing his coat’s lapels to slow our velocity. He tore off the layer and his t-shirt so I crash-landed into him anyway.
My fingers crawled up every bump and curve of his torso, inching excruciatingly slowly over the soft, bare skin I’d missed. I relished in every goosebump my scratching nail elicited from his porcelain chest. When my hands finally reached his neck, I wrapped my arms around Chris and pulled him impossibly closer. I wasn’t about to let him go again any time soon.
Chris groaned with satisfaction against my bottom lip, tugging the sensitive skin between his teeth. His hands found my ass, hesitating on the curve like he was properly appreciating it before slipping down to the bottom of my thighs, encouraging me to wrap my legs around his waist.
I missed this, if I’m honest. The way our chests rose and fell in complete sync with one another, hands roaming familiar territory, every part of each other dancing together as if we’d rehearsed countless times before. By this point, I suppose we had.
Chris carried me to the couch and sat so I was straddling him. Our hips began digging into one another, frantically trying to find the friction we knew all too well between our clothing. His hands slipped up the hem of my shirt and suddenly I became too aware of how little was separating our bare chests, just this one piece of fabric. One of Chris’s old shirts, in fact. The reality of how close we were to being so close again, only to have hundreds of miles and surely more pointless commitments to other people keeping us apart, it was painful.
He continued to kiss me, hungry and longing as if he’d been deprived, as his cold fingertips teasingly traced underneath my chest. So close, again. But, as much as the passion pooled in the pit of my stomach, there was a horrible, tugging guilt that started to drain me.
“Chris,” I whined, only the word came out more like a breathy moan as I tore my lips from his, like pulling two magnets apart.
“Hmmm,” he hummed, pressing his lips along my jaw and down my neck. Instinctively, I craned so he could have better access and I almost didn’t want to say anything at all as badly as I needed to keep grinding my hips against his. Chris’s hands tightened on my hips, urging me even more.
It would’ve been so much easier to drown myself in Chris. To let his scent, the expensive vanilla cologne and crisp mountain air and something that smelled indistinguishably from what my home, replace all of the air in my lungs. To let the sensations surround me, his beard scratching my collarbone and his calloused fingertips digging into my hip bones, so hard I hoped I’d have bruises of his fingerprints in the morning.
Like jumping into a frozen lake, he shocked every one of my nerves awake. I gasped, taking in all the air I could as if I’d just broken the water’s surface after a deep dive.
“Chris,” I repeated, sterner this time. He retracted, resting his hands on the small of my back while giving me this awful look. These anticipating, wide puppy-dog eyes with his swollen lips stuck in a pout and his eyebrows hanging low. Chris was the poster boy of concern. I almost wanted to tell him to forget it, that we could keep going, but I had a feeling even he couldn’t satisfy the aching in my chest. I needed something else.
“She was right, Chris,” I admitted so quietly that, if we weren’t close enough for each of our breaths to be borrowed, I think he might not have heard me. My forehead met his shoulder and I watched his chest deflate with a sigh.
“She doesn’t know shit about how I feel,” he growled. His arms tensed around me and I knew I’d brought back the emotions he was trying to leave at my front door. I realized he’d had a similar conversation to the one I did, and he knew it too. In a moment of steely anger, he felt completely foreign to me.
Then Chris’s shoulders sagged as his grip on me softened and he reached for me, resting a heavy hand on my cheek. Chris lifted my head so I’d looked at him. Him and his drooping eyebrows, chiseled frown lines, and those blue eyes, gentle as a lake in the morning and just as glassy.
“She doesn’t know shit about us,” Chris insisted, still bitter, but with all of the conviction he could muster.
“It doesn’t matter, she’s still right. We can’t keep doing this,” I bit back, matching his sincerity’s strength. “Every other guy I’ve ever been with,” I tried to confess, but then I saw my reflection in his crystal-clear eyes. I realized exactly what I was about to do, the can of worms I’d nearly opened, and I couldn’t.
I turned from Chris, partly so I didn’t have to look at him, but mostly so I didn’t have to watch him looking at me. His hand fell from my cheek and hit his thigh with a defeated thud. My eyes darted to the ceiling, blinking back tears. My chest shook as I tried to suck the words on the tip of my tongue back down with every breath.
“They left you wanting more?” Chris said, sucking on his teeth. “Left you wanting someone else specifically?” he laughed dryly. The corner of his mouth tugged up in a smirk, but there was nothing light about the look in his eye, like someone else was pulling the strings.
I jumped from his lap, like he’d just passed an electric shock through me, and pulled my shirt back down. “No,” I objected. With the way Chris looked at me, leaned back casually and watching me with his eyebrows playfully raised as I paced with crossed arms and a furiously shaking head, I had a feeling I was only trying to convince myself.
“She told me the same thing,” he began tentatively. “That I’m not ‘emotionally committed to her’ as if that makes any sense,” Chris paused to roll his eyes. “And then once she left me, I was driving over. I didn’t even feel sad about the breakup, I just wanted to be with you,” he elaborated.
Chris stood and took a couple of his long strides toward me. He gripped my shoulders, just enough to stop the pacing path of the wind-up toy I’d become before I wore a hole through my carpet. “And then I realized what she meant,” Chris admitted, buying time before he finished with a deep breath. He pulled me close to his chest. “I realized that I was waiting for this, to be with you. I always do.”
“No,” I repeated with more fervor, shaking myself from his embrace.
“No?” Chris echoed incredulously. His eyebrows knitted together as he crossed his arms, taken aback by my objection.
“No!” I shouted, running my anxious hands through my hair as I continued to pace on the opposite side of the coffee table. Out of his arm’s reach. “This isn’t what this is. We’re friends, Chris. This isn’t how friends work,” I spoke in a quick staccato.
“We aren’t just friends. It’s how we can work,” he pleaded his case, trying to emphasize his point with wildly flailing hands. “You said it yourself, she was right.”
“And you said she didn’t know anything,” I shot back in a low tone with narrowed eyes. My steps halted as my eyes pierced daggers into Chris. He was still flushed from earlier, hair disheveled wildly from my hands raking through the dark locks as well as his own nervous ones now, but he still made a decent target.
“And, if we aren’t friends, what am I to you then, Evans? A booty call, maybe? A rebound? Really, which is it? Because, as much as you’ve ‘always’ wanted to be with me, you always seem to get bored and run back to L.A. to find someone else!”
His whole being, from his eyebrows to his shoulders to his spirit, sank. My words weighed heavy on him and, as good as it felt in the moment to pin all of my anger and confusion onto Chris, it wasn’t worth the way he’d looked at me. Like he was so insulted I would even imagine that he thought so little of me.
“That isn’t fair. You know that’s not what I meant,” he faltered. His mouth opened and closed, a total fish out of the water. This wasn’t in our element, Chris never came here for a fight. He came for love, or at least the closest thing he could get. Actually, I gave him all the love I had. Always. But that was the problem, that I never seemed to get any in return.
Again, I stopped to scrutinize Chris. I’m not sure what I was hoping to find between his naked chest heaving with ragged breaths and those soul-baring eyes that conveyed nothing less than heartbreak. “You are so much more to me,” he professed, his voice level and imploring me to believe him. “I want us to be so much more.”
I collapsed onto the couch, knees weakened with a declaration of adoration I’d been dreaming about for the longest time and a fraction of my emotional exhaustion taking a physical toll. I wrung my hands in my lap, choosing to watch my fingers slide in and out of my other hand’s gaps instead of looking Chris in the eye.
My couch creaked with a sudden added weight as one massive, calloused hand wrapped itself around both of my own. “Want a drink?” Chris asked in a refreshing change of pace. His eyes darted to my nearly-empty glass of rosé from earlier and the bottle accompanying it.
Instead of giving him the satisfaction of serving me, I pulled my hands from his and refilled my own glass. I passed it to Chris before taking the whole bottle into my lap. We both took long sips, trying to force each other to break the thick silence between us.
“We’re supposed to be friends,” I snapped first, hating how my voice broke.
Chris choked on his wine as he laughed. “Friends who fuck each other senseless sometimes?” he inquired, raising a thick eyebrow. “We’ve been more than that whether or not you want to realize it.”
“But friends,” I insisted, unwavering. “That’s the only solace I’ve had, seeing you with other girls, knowing that we had boundaries. That we aren’t supposed to have feelings like this so I could ignore them and assume it wasn’t mutual. You aren’t supposed to make me wait for you, over and over again, and then claim to have wanted me this whole time.”
Chris allowed me to ramble without interruption. Instead of waiting to talk, he only listened. With one arm wrapped around my shoulder and the other hand tight around his glass’s stem, he allowed me to get it all out.
“You could’ve just had me, Chris,” I raised my voice, hating how defeated the crack in my voice sounded. It was shrill and as removed from myself I ever felt, like the words were coming out of someone else’s mouth. “So I don’t see why you expect me to believe you ever really wanted me in the first place.” I turned into Chris’s side, burying my face in his shoulder in an attempt to seek some comfort. As much as I hated him in that moment, Chris always seemed to be my soft place to land.
“I know that now,” he said in a breathy sigh. “I’m sorry, darling, I had no clue you felt like that,” Chris said, words laced with a saccharine honesty that begged me to believe him. Then his chest rumbled with a reverberating, cynical laugh as he added, “If it’s any consolation, I had no clue I felt like this either.”
He’d caught my attention. I tipped my chin up to rest on his shoulder, looking at Chris with a new clarity. He was just as confused as I was, drowning and tumbling in an unexpected wave of new emotions.
“Honest, I didn’t… I don’t know if this makes any sense,” Chris stuttered, shaking his head. “But it didn’t click until I was driving over here. I realized I was doing exactly what she accused me of, always running to you. Comparing her to you. Wanting every girl to be you.”
Then he saw right through me with those eyes, as clear as a crystal ball I could nearly see our future in- or, at least, the one Chris envisioned. He’d pinned his heart right onto his sleeve. “You don’t know how fucking stupid I feel,” he said with a gritty laugh, “for wasting so much of the time we could’ve been spending together.”
He reached out and tucked a lock of loose hair behind my ear, palm hovering over my cheek before deciding it was a safe place to rest. His thumb stretched across the soft skin, wiping a tear I hadn’t realized slipped out. “Darling,” he sighed with a new tenderness, “I don’t want to waste any more of it watching you cry. I want to be with you, always, as long as you’ll have me.”
I laughed and it felt good, like it lifted some of the heaviness from my chest. My hand found the crook of his neck. I could just barely feel his pulse beating hard underneath the soft, warm skin. I looked at him through long lashes as I realized the utter beauty of this man sitting before me, inside and out. I thought I knew him before, every corner and crevice, but Chris was bearing a new part of his soul to me. “Me too,” I mumbled.
So painfully slowly, Chris began to lean in, like he was giving me one last chance to back out. Like I hadn’t given all of myself to him, in every way possible, a long time ago.
When his lips met mine, just like they had so many times before, something was inexplicably new. Different from the desperation usually lacing our love and the bittersweet excitement of knowing it could end at any moment. This was patient, this was Chris telling me he’d wait as long as he had to for another kiss like this. This was him promising himself to me and me alone, pressing the vow from his lips to mine. This was grateful and accepting, giving and vulnerable in a way that we’d never been before. A way I hoped we’d always be.
“What should I wear?” Chris’ voice echoed from our hotel bedroom. “I didn’t bring many clothes.”
I was just about to put in an earring, when he came into the bathroom. “Which one?” he held out a white and a light blue dress shirt.
“Whoa, you want to wear a dress shirt to meet my parents?” I smirked. “You’re not proposing, are you?”
“I did tell you that I’m not letting that skillful mouth of yours get away from me,” he joked. “But we are going to a restaurant, right?”
“Yes,” I nodded. “But please, don’t make a great deal out of it. It will only make both of us more nervous. And wear the white one.”
The restaurant was only a few blocks away, so we took a short walk. Chris looked amazing in that shirt and black trousers. I wished we had an extra 15 minutes for a quickie before the dinner, but it had to wait. “Maybe I should’ve brought a bottle of wine or something?” he asked, nervously.
“I’m sure there’s wine at the restaurant, love,” I smiled and rubbed his forearm. “You have nothing to worry about.”
Chris was incredibly nervous about meeting my parents. Apart from being worried that they might not like him, he also concerned about not understanding their accents, which weren’t different from mine, so no, there was nothing to worry about.
“Should I pick up the check?” he continued. “I read about it, and...”
I interrupted him by simply taking his face in my hands and kissing him, long and deep. “They are gonna love you, Christopher,” I whispered against his lips. “So please, don’t worry.”
He nodded. “Thank you.”
We entered the restaurant, where my parents were already sitting, waiting for us. I squeezed Chris’ bicep to cheer him up. “Hi, Mum,” I greeted her, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Dad,” I moved back to Chris and introduced him. “This is Chris.”
“Mrs. Dawson, Mr. Dawson.” I noticed his voice became a bit lower and more serious.
“It is very lovely to meet you, Chris,” my mum said.
“Emily told us a lot of good things about you.” Dad added.
We sat down and ordered. Chris got a little bit more relaxed once he realized my parents were really not that scary. He was mainly nervous because of the conflict I had with them at the beginning of the year, but it was now all sorted out. My dad did like the fact that Chris decided not to drink alcohol, but didn’t know that he refused only because we were going to my friend's party later and he didn’t want to mix.
“So, you two are going to be in a film together, right?” my Mum asked.
Chris nodded. “Yes, we’re filming the first one right now, it’s Avengers: Age of Ultron. We are two months into filming and just came back from South Korea. We’re actually very lucky to be doing this together and avoid being apart for such a long time.”
“Emily was always into comic books, I’m not surprised she landed a role in Marvel movies.” My dad laughed. “She'd always run around with her brothers playing football or something.”
“Since I couldn’t bring our family albums, I have a few pictures on my phone,” my Mum reached to her bag. “I’m sure Chris would love to see some.”
“Thank you, mum.” I said as I saw Chris' eyes light up. The only reason why I didn't protest, was because how happy Chris was now. My parents really liked him. How could anyone not like him? I looked at him, as he scrolled through my baby pictures with my mum and God... I love him. Words cannot describe what I feel when I look at my insanely beautiful and kind boyfriend.
After Chris finished telling my parents the story of his life, childhood and other stuff, I noticed that it was time for us to go. “Chris, we should head out.” I interrupted.
We said our goodbyes. Fortunately, there was no fight over the bill. My dad accepted Chris' offer to pay. Chris was a bit disappointed that my brothers couldn’t make it, but they both work in the same team and had an emergency they had to attend to.
“You have my parents wrapped around your finger,” I joked on our way back to the hotel. “They were mesmerized.”
“What can I say? Parents love me.” He shrugged. We reached the entrance. “I’ll just a have a smoke and I’ll be up in a minute.”
I furrowed my eyebrows. “I asked you to stop smoking, baby.”
“It’s not that easy.” He shrugged.
I rolled my eyes at him and went back to our room. He did a good job hiding his addiction from me in the early stages of our relationship. He said that it was easier, because we weren’t spending as much time together as we are now. But now that we're both working on the same project, he couldn’t hide it anymore. I’m not saying that him smoking would have been a deal breaker, but I hate cigarettes and as much as I hate it when people ask their partners to change, I’d like to come up with a system to make him stop smoking.
I took a very quick shower and headed out to the bedroom in a towel, to find something to wear. I settled on black trousers, white t-shirt and a jacket.
I was still in my underwear when Chris came back. “Keep your distance, ashtray.” I snapped as he tried to get close to me. I hate the smell of cigarettes and it instantly makes me sick.
I laid on the bed, while Chris was in the shower. There was still a lot of time before we had to leave, so I just opened Instagram and scrolled though my feed. Sophia had already posted her outfit for the evening.
I heard that Chris finished showering, so I laid on my stomach, arching my back so my butt was popping out. “Chriiiis!” I called. “Can you help me with my phone?”
“In a second,” he called back and soon I heard the door open. “what is... oh, you fucking didn’t.”
I turned to see him with messy wet hair, in a towel around his hips. “Come on, babe.” I wiggled my butt at him.
“Look at those long legs...” He walked over and I felt his finger draw a line from my foot, through my calf all the way to my upper thigh. He then got on the bed and sat on my thighs. His hands grabbed my butt cheeks firmly. I groaned as he squeezed then firmly. “I am so fucking lucky...” he sighed and spanked me. I gasped as I felt my skin sting lightly. He’s never done that before. “Did you like it?” he whispered.
“Yeah,” I moaned. “Do it again.”
I felt his palm smack against my ass again, but this time it was harder, and I gasped. “Fuck.” I mumbled against the sheets.
“I’m loving it, but I need to fuck you already.” He blurted. I felt his fingers gently run up and down my clothed pussy. “How are you always so wet, baby girl?”
I turned to meet his gaze. “You make me.” I groaned, feeling chills all over my body, caused by Chris' thumb rubbing against my panties. I heard him loose the towel, then he lowered my panties and I felt cold air against my sex. Chris buried two fingers in between my folds and breathed out slowly.
“Chris, please...” I begged as he removed his fingers. They were soon replaced the tip of Chris' dick. “Fuck, yes.”
I felt a light stretch which was both painful and pleasurable. I gripped the sheets as Chris moved deeper inside me. He hovered over my body, so his lips could reach the top of my spine. “You're taking me so well, baby...” he groaned against my skin. “Come on, come for me.”
He started to pick up the pace, supporting himself with his one arm and using the other to hold my waist down. I felt my walls tighten around his shaft as my orgasm neared, I couldn't stop moaning, the friction was too much, Chris’ moans turned me on even more and I let go.
Chris turned me to lay on my side, entered me again and he continued thrusting into me, his movements becoming more and more sloppy. I was seeing stars and I’m pretty sure my moans were audible from outside our apartment. Chris reached between my legs to play with clit. “You ready to come again for me, baby?” he breathed out.
I heard Chris groan one last time as he released into me. I felt his dick twitch and we came together. Chris laid down, wrapping his arm around my waist to pull me close to his body. “I’m nearly 33 years old and I'm having the best sex of my life with you.”
“I wish I could say the same thing...” I sighed and made Chris glare angrily at me. “But I have no comparison.”
We stayed like that for a while before leaving for the party. It was a 30 minute drive from our hotel. Chris was driving with his hand constantly on my thigh, I held on to his arm. I did want to drive, because he doesn’t have experience driving on the left side, but he wouldn’t let me. “You’re going to drive on the way back, after I’ve had too much to drink.”
“What if I want to drink too?” I asked, raising my eyebrow.
“Oh, I mean, that’s fine...” he struggled.
“I’m kidding! It’s fine, you agreed to meet my friends, I won’t drink if you want to.” I said, giving his bicep a kiss. “Besides, I hate most of them and I wanna show you off.”
He burst into laughter. “How can you hate your friends?”
“I like my friends, but I don’t like their friends and they are also gonna be there,” I explained. “Oh, and I should warn you. The guy I, um... the guy who turned out to be taken will be there.”
“Ok, I can take that.” He nodded.
“And the guy I used to have a crush on.” I added quickly. “But I really don’t talk to them anymore, you don’t even have to acknowledge them, ok? And if you hear a stupid comment, just think about the great sex we have, right?”
“I’m gonna be fine, everyone’s got their history and I'm not going to ruin your night with friends with some jealousy outbursts.”
We arrived at Sophie and Mary’s house and walked inside hand in hand. The girls surrounded us immediately, more excited to see Chris than me, their best friend. “It’s so nice to finally meet you! We’ve heard so much about you!”
It didn’t take long for Chris to get to know most of the people and disappear into conversation with them. I stayed in the kitchen with the girls, using the one moment we had to talk privately.
“Emilia Alexandra, he is perfect for you.” Amy said. “Visually, he’s exactly your type and character-wise, he’s all a man should be.”
“I know, he’s amazing.” I sighed, watching him talk to Mary's boyfriend. No wonder, they were both around the same age. “And, don’t get me wrong, but... I’m afraid.”
“Why? Has he done anything?” Sophia inquired, lowering her voice.
“No, no. He’s absolutely perfect,” I smiled. “But he's older. 11 years is not the biggest age gap Hollywood has witnessed, but in a year or two, he'll start talking about having children. Right now, the whole idea of a childbirth freaks me out...”
“Don’t think about it now, ok? I’m sure Chris understands that he’s not dating a woman who has to hurry up if she wants to be a mother,” Mary explained. “Besides, the man is clearly in love with you, already. He would wait 20 more years for you to be ready.”
We had to end the conversation when more and more people neared the kitchen. I went to the living room, but before I sat down next to my boyfriend, Will, my former crush, appeared in front of me.
We used to have this weird dynamic – we were never a couple, but our friends told us that we looked like one. “Haven't seen you in a long time, Em,” He said. “How are you?”
“Oh, I’m alright,” I answered. “A little bit busy at the moment, but life’s good.”
“Yeah, you got yourself a superhero,” he moved on to the topic quickly. “He doesn’t seem your type, though.”
“Well, if you think that smart, tall, handsome and kind is not my type, then you’re wrong and most certainly don’t know me.” I shrugged and took a sip of my non-alcoholic mojito.
Not wanting to waste any more time on Will, I walked to the living room, where Chris was having an incredibly energetic conversation with Harry, Mary's boyfriend, and Lucas. I wanted to sit next to him, but the moment he saw me, he wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me down to sit on his lap. “How’s things?” I whispered and kissed his temple.
“Things are good,” He responded with a sly smile on his face. “I thought you weren’t drinking tonight, baby.”
“It’s a mojito, but without rum,” I explained. “So, what were you talking about?”
“Oh, Chris was just telling us about Korea,” Harry said. “I’m actually going there on a work trip next month.”
“That’s great,” I smiled. “I should've gone into marketing, you travel all the time and get to actually see the cities you go to...”
“Heyyy,” Chris furrowed his eyebrows. “You wouldn’t have met me then.”
Mary walked in with even more food on the plates and set them on the table. “So, Em, still can’t tell us anything about the movie?”
“Oh, no fucking way,” I shook my head. “Marvel would fucking shoot me, just ask Chris. He’s been in this much longer than me.”
“That’s true, they barely tell us anything and it constantly gets worse...” He confirmed.
“How did you two meet?” Sam, Will's brother asked. At some point in the past, I thought he liked me, that we were getting along, because we had a lot in common, but it turned out that he was as mean as his brother was dumb.
“We were on a plane to LA together and then I came to Chris' party.” I explained.
“Oh, did she end up unconscious or vomited into your sink?” Adam asked and I rolled my eyes at him. I did this once at his house, because they kept pouring me strong drinks on an empty stomach. “She tends to do that.”
“Nooo, I think she was actually enjoying herself at mine,” Chris replied, shutting Adam down.
I could see Sophie glaring at Adam, Will and Sam, but it didn’t stop them. “Hey, do you remember, when you got so drunk on wine that you called Will to pick you up?” Sam smiled widely. “God, you were barely able to walk back to the car, weren’t you?”
I felt Chris' fingers squeeze the skin of my waist more tightly. I knew he wouldn't do anything remotely impolite. I didn’t mind them saying that stuff – I knew it was only because they were mad that I was going forward and had an amazing boyfriend by my side. They were once the only men in my closest circle and now they were just feeling threatened. “Wait, is he the guy you told me about? The one who crashed his parents' car, because he was trying to overtake a sports car?” he asked, faking confusion. God, I do love him. And I hate it when people try to make themselves relevant.
“Ohh, yeah, that’s him.” I smiled cheekily and discreetly scratched the back of Chris' neck, which I knew he loved.
“Ok, I think that’s enough reminiscing for today, isn’t it?” Sophie interrupted.
I hated every part of the evening which consisted of talking to anyone outside of my closest circle. Fortunately, most of them left before us, so the atmosphere got better and better.
A while later, Chris and I said our goodbyes to the remaining guests and left for our rental car. He was holding me tightly by his side, mostly because he got a bit hammered with the group of my friends that were actually acting normally around him. “I hate your friends,” he whined. “but I love your best friends.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” I said as Chris walked me to the driver's seat. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me closer to him as we faced each other.
“I want to say something,” he blurted out in a nearly sober voice. “Before I do, I want you to know that even though I am a little drunk, I am fully aware of what I’m saying and I’m taking responsibility for my words. Also, I’m sorry for saying this on an ordinary night like that,” he took a deep breath. “I’m in love with you, very much.”
My mouth formed a wide grin as I cupped his cheeks in my hands. “That’s very convenient,” I whispered against his lips and gave him a gentle kiss. “me too.”
He pressed another kiss on my lips, this time harder, more hungrily. He tasted like scotch, cigarettes and mint gum. “I am so lucky that these guys are absolute garbage, I got to snag you for myself.”
The next day, when we landed in Boston, we were both tired, but it was only 2pm. Chris was still feeling a little bit hangover from the night before. He slept through most of our flight, with his head on my lap. I’m sure it wasn’t comfortable for him, but he does love it when I play with his hair.
I met Chris' oldest sister at the airport, where she came to pick us up. “Hi, I’m Carly,” She greeted me and hugged. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”
“You too,” I smiled.
“They’re all dying to see you,” She cheered. “And Chris, the kids are going to go crazy once you walk through the door.”
“I’m not gonna be a fun uncle today, I’m sooo hangover.” Chris whined. “We're going straight to bed.”
“Speak for yourself, Evans.” I said.
I was a little bit nervous when we reached Chris' family house. He’s always told me how close they are, especially his mother and him and I really wanted to make a good impression. That’s why I didn’t travel in my most comfortable clothes and chose something more presentable.
We entered the house and Chris was almost immediately tacked down to the ground by three children. “Oh God, they're gonna kill me! Help!” he shouted.
Chris’ mum came out to greet us. “Oh, Emily! I’m so glad he’s finally brought you here!” chucked. “I've been hearing about you from Scott for months now.”
“Hope it's only the good things.” I smiled.
“Oh, definitely,” she smiled. “Let my get you something to eat. Chris, please take your luggage to your bedroom.”
Chris just made a strange sound as he was surrounded by his nephews.
Lisa made an excellent lasagne and salad (amongst other things). I was literally in a food coma. Chris couldn’t stop laughing at me and my post-meal facial expressions. “I always try to make her eat more and you accomplished that in just one hour, mom. Amazing.”
“You’re making it sound like I’m starving myself, but there’s just a lot of things I shouldn’t eat.” I explained. “I mean, I haven’t had a coffee in ages.”
Chris nodded. “True, I have no idea how she does it.”
“Emily, you should let me know what you wouldn’t want to eat,” Lisa suggested. “Chris should've let me know...”
“Oh, no, no. Please, don’t go out of your way for me. I can eat everything...”
“Except for brussels, asparagus...” Chris started to count on his fingers.
I’m not gonna lie, I was enjoying the attention Chris’ niece was giving me. As soon as Chris told her about my Cinderella role, Millie kept asking me about my dress, the prince, carriage. I showed her pictures of myself on the set and she looked like I was her idol already.
“I should dump you solely for that comment at the table.” I snapped, laying in bed as Chris was changing. Everyone left for some event at Carly's school and we decided to stay in and take a nap. “I loved that lasagne and now I’m afraid your mom is never going to make it again. I intend on keeping our relationship going just for that lasagne.”
“Ouch,” he gasped and lied shirtless next to me. I was wearing a hoodie of his I found in his wardrobe. He said that it was older than my second teeth. “But seriously – I haven’t brought any girl here in a very long time, so mom is incredibly excited. She actually wants to take you to the theatre tomorrow.”
“Really?” I asked excitedly. “What for?”
“I don’t know, probably just to hang out together,” he shrugged. “And then, my dad is coming over for dinner.”
“Right, ok,” I nodded, moving my head to lay on his bicep. “And the day after tomorrow... It’s your birthday.”
Chris pressed his lips into a thin line. “Yup, it is,” he sighed and brought me closer to press my torso against his. “Can we just not make a great deal out of it?”
“You made a huge deal out of mine though, love.”
“Yeah, but you weren’t turning 33 years old.”
I sighed and lifted myself up to sit on his torso. I pressed my hands against his firm chest. “Your age isn’t going to stop me from preparing celebrations, Evans,” I grinned. “I mean, everything is already prepared, you’re not getting away.” I leaned down to give him a kiss. “I loved my birthday this year,” I whispered. “I want to do something equally great for you, so let me do this, you dumbass.”
He burst into laughter as I pressed my mouth against his collarbone tattoo. “Oh, I love you,” He grabbed my side and pulled me closer. “You’re just... flawless.”
I pulled back to look him in the eyes. His beautiful blue eyes were still tired from the night before. His hair was a little messy from laying on the bed, but it might have also been my fault. I leaned down to give his nose a quick kiss. “I love you too, handsome.”
Chris moved his hand down to the curve of my ass. “How about we use the time alone we got to have a little fun?” he asked. “I mean, we are in my childhood home. An opportunity like that won’t happen again soon.”
I sat back. “Did you just say you love me and then suggest having sex?” I tilted my head to the side.
He shrugged. “I don’t know, can’t remember, I’m an old man.”
I giggled at his comment and wanted to actually start the fun, but we heard the door open downstairs. I sighed. “Well, that sums up the fun for the day.”
“Come ‘ere, baby,” he whispered. “Let’s just pretend we're taking a nap or else the kids will attack me again.” He spooned me, wrapped his arms around me and brought my back close to his chest. “Goodnight, love.”
Even though I was only hoping to sleep for like an hour, I ended up sleeping through the whole night. I woke up around 8 am. The bed was empty, so I got up and found my leggings in the suitcase. I opened the door quietly and went downstairs, where I found Chris in the kitchen.
“Oh, hello, sleepy head,” he got up off the stool and walked up to me and gave me a kiss on the forehead.
“Hi,” I answered. “I can’t believe I slept for so long.” I counted the hours and I slept for almost 12 hours non-stop.
“You went through 2 months of shooting on maximum 5 hours of sleep every night, you deserve some more time to rest.” He whispered against my hair.
Lisa came into the kitchen as Chris was making me a tea. “Oh, you’re up! I was afraid we wouldn’t get the chance to spend some time together,” she said. “I’m going to the theatre in a while, would you want to join me?”
“Of course! Just give me a few minutes to take a shower and get dressed.” I smiled and sprinted upstairs.
“She's gonna have energy to deal with those kids, she spent 13 hours in bed and woke up after me,” Chris said to Lisa. “It barely ever happens, Mom. Never.”
It was one of the quickest showers of my life. I didn't want Lisa to wait too long for me, so I tried to hurry.
Soon enough we were in a car driven by Chris. He was supposed to drop us off at the theatre and head to the gym. I was a bit nervous about spending time alone with Lisa, but I trusted Chris' words and knew that she was nothing but a kind person.
“I’ll pick you up at 2, alright?” he waved as we left the car.
Lisa let me watch a few rehearsals with her and it kind of brought back my memories from school and university. Those kids were already taking acting more seriously then I ever did. I sat there in the audience and watched their rehearsal. The teacher asked me to find something I thought they could improve, but honestly I didn’t see myself as any kind of authority in that matter. “You know, the last time I did any kind of theatre work was back in university, which wasn’t that long ago, but I was always more focused on films.” I explained. “The one thing I can tell you, is that I found meditation to be very helpful, because I couldn’t really mute the sound of the audience.”
“It also helps with auditions, filming, social interactions,” I added. “You need to be incredibly confident, don’t let people interrupt you, you’re the one on stage and they paid to see you.”
I watched the rehearsal until the end and then Lisa took me to her office. Even though I knew she wouldn’t question me like it was an interrogation, I was a little bit nervous, as it was our first time completely alone together.
“I love it here,” I admitted. “It kind of reminds me of my time in uni when I actually did theatre work. Of course, it wasn’t anything involving dance and singing, because it’s absolutely not my thing.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’d do just fine,” she assured me. “I saw your new movie a month ago and I really enjoyed it. I’ve actually seen a few of your movies since Chris told me about you. I do like how you don’t stick to one genre and it always turns out great.”
“Thank you so much,” I said, my voice shaking. “I’m sorry, I’m just a bit nervous. I feel like I’m at a job interview, but not because of you. I just have that natural fear of saying something stupid in important situations.”
Lisa laughed at me, but in a kind way. She admitted that she was a little surprised and hesitant, when Chris told her that I was younger – only because he always dated his age – but it didn’t take her much time to realize how important I was to him and that we were God door each other. With that said, I could feel tears pool in my eyes. Suck it up. “You know, whenever Chris brings a girl home, I’m a bit nervous. I do trust his taste, but the last one was a total miss, if I have to be honest. The main problem is that he hasn’t had a long-time relationship for a very long time now and I’m worried. You know, I’m fine with whoever he goes for, but I want him to be happy. And I know that for him, happiness means marriage and, eventually, kids.”
I knew what she meant. And she was trying to get information in the most polite way possible. “Lisa, I love him. It’s still early to even think about it, though. The one thing I can say is that I’m sure Chris is going to be a great husband and father, so if we work out for a time long enough, I’ll happily help him make his dreams come true. I don’t know how much it’ll take for me. It could be 2 years, could be 5.”
Lisa sighed and smiled. “You’re both really similar. You like the same things, I can see that you’re comfortable around each other,” she admitted. “Chris called me after your first date and said that you’ve known each other for a day and he felt like he was just wasting his time before he met you.” I couldn’t help but smile as the said that. I knew that our relationship was moving fast, but knowing how he felt about me in such early stages... “I really hope you two work out, because I’m looking forward to seeing my son as happy as he is with you more frequently.”
At this point I was just grinning like a crazy person. “Oh God, I have no idea what to say now.”
I was actually holding back tears after our little chat. Lisa was an incredible woman and I saw that she cared for her children, but not in an invasive way. She didn’t make me feel like she’d hunt me down if something went wrong in our relationship.
Lisa stayed in a little longer, but I went outside where Chris was waiting for us. He’s changed his clothes after visiting the gym, his hair was pulled back but in a messy way. “How was your day?” he asked as I kissed him on the cheek.
“Well, I watched a few rehearsals, talked to the kids and then had a nice talk with your mum,” I answered. “She nearly made me cry.”
“What?” he seemed confused.
“She almost made me cry by being so nice and supporting of us.” I explained with a big grin on my face.
“Oh, that sounds more like her,” he said, wrapping his arm around me. “Now, will you tell me how is it possible that my filming schedule has been conveniently pushed back a day, so I don’t have to work on my birthday?”
I just shrugged. “I have no idea, BUT I bet you should thank your awesome girlfriend for that. Just in case.”
He pulled me into a hug and I felt his tense muscles against my body. “Thank you so much and seeing you excited for what you’ve prepared makes me even more anxious to find out what it is.” He whispered against my neck.
I leaned back a bit to face him. “You’re gonna love it, I promise.” I said and kissed him gently. I loved Chris' habit of pulling me tightly against his body whenever we kissed. It made me just forget about the whole world and focus on him.
Lisa soon joined us and we drove back home, where I helped Lisa cook dinner. The whole family came over in the evening, apart from Scott, who was in LA. I got to meet Chris’ dad, Bob. He spent some time with us. I couldn’t believe how similar Chris and his father looked.
I was actually trying to observe how they acted, because, well. They’ve been divorced for quite a while now and have adult children, which required them to spend a lot of time together. But, as I suspected, it was an incredibly friendly and respectful relationship. It was obvious that something just hadn’t worked out and they both decided to get a divorce. I could only hope that my parents will be exactly the same.
Chris and Bob went out to the garden to play with the kids, while I stayed in the kitchen with Lisa. “So, Chris has told me about your parents' separation...”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “I was actually watching you and Bob and the way you are after getting a divorce.”
“Oh, we’ve been divorced for almost, what, 15 years,” she laughed. “Right now, I can barely remember what it was like being married to him. It was tough at the beginning, but the marriage just stopped working out for us, so we decided to end it.”
“I hope my parents are like that once they get a divorce. I’d hate to be just put in between them.”
“I’m sure it will be fine. It’s much easier to separated when you don’t have small children anymore. There’s no custody battle, which is one of the reasons why divorce cases take so long.”
Lisa was right. I kept thinking about my parents like they couldn’t handle their own life. I’m not dependent on them anymore, so I don’t have to worry about their relationship. Yes, it would be ideal if they stayed friends, but it’s their life.
In the evening, we all sat down in the living room, played some board games and watched a movie. I felt incredibly comfortable amongst Chris' family and some friends who have joined us. I was very sad about us leaving tomorrow and having to go to bed early in order to get more sleep. “I love your family.” I whispered against his chest as we laid in bed.
“That's convenient.” He pressed a kiss against my forehead.
The next day, we spent some time in the house, but had to rush to the airport in the afternoon.
“When are you going to tell me where we're going?” Chris asked as we entered the airport.
“I’d like to keep it a complete secret,” I answered. “Until an airport employee accuses me of kidnapping or something, I’m not spilling.”
It was all carefully planned. I gave Chris earplugs and somehow, he still didn’t know out destination as we entered the plane. I couldn’t make him wear earplugs during the safety training, so that was where he found out.
“Why are we going to Houston?” he seemed a bit confused. I just shrugged, so he knew I wasn’t going to say anything.
Chris was a bit desperate to find out what was going on. He kept saying that it’s his birthday and I should tell him. Then he tried to bribe me with sexual favours, which also did not work out. To be honest, I thought he would’ve had it figured out by now, but he still was clueless.
I had it all prepared – we drove to the hotel and then to the NASA Space Center, where I not only booked us a trip around the center, but also paid for it to be open for 3 more hours, so we could have a private tour and then, after it gets dark, use some of the telescopes.
“You have got to be kidding me, Emilia.” Chris blurted out as I put a NASA cap on his head. “That is so fucking awesome.”
He was like a child in Disneyland. No, scratch that. Chris was acting like himself in Disneyland. I loved the fact that it was thanks to me and he was actually enjoying himself. He was such a fucking dork and I loved every second of it.
Chris kept asking questions to our guide and I was actually stunned by the knowledge he already had.
I’m getting him a meeting with Neil Degrasse Tyson next year.
A/N: omg. we’re finally here. we did it, we reached the mountain-top. i have here the last chapter of Return to Sender, PLUS the epilogue. thank you all for coming on this journey with me—this was the first fic i ever let anyone vote on the outcome for, so i’m so grateful to everyone who participated in the making of this fic, if you sent asks, reblogged, commented—thank you. i hope you enjoy the conclusion of this story!
Dove’s sharp wails become quiet hiccups before too long, her chubby fist curling in the fabric of your nightgown. The wide window in her nursery looks out onto the cleanly mowed stretch of lawn behind the house, and you watch from behind the curtain as the dark shapes of men creep through the grass toward the tree-line.
Put her back. Go back to your room. Wait for Andy.
There’s part of you that is small, scared. And you suspect it always will be, now. You’re tempted briefly to listen to it. After all, you certainly aren’t outrunning security with a baby in your arms—but you don’t. The light in the bedroom behind you goes out with a soft hum, leaving you in twilight. The little voice tells you to do nothing, pleads again for you to wait, for waiting is easier than running.
Instead, you grab the baby blanket inside the bassinet, shaking loose it with one hand before you place Dove carefully between your shoulders blades. You’d only ever wrapped her up like that one time—Andy didn’t trust that she wouldn’t fall. The baby settles easily between your shoulders, and you wrap the blanket around her securely, checking her position in the mirror.
When you’re finished, you test the security of your knots a few times before you’re satisfied she isn’t going anywhere.
I need to get out of this house.
The hallway is empty and silent when you open the door. You pause on the threshold, waiting for Andy to materialize. He doesn’t, though, and after a few seconds of debate, you step out into the dark. You don’t dare try the light, instead grabbing the bannister as you make your way toward the stairs. Dove gurgles, tugging on a fistful of your hair. You take them slowly, one at a time as your eyes adjust to the dark, teeth sunk firmly into your lower lip.
There are no shoes by the front door when you reach the landing, and you recall the way Andy had looked at you as he’d thrown them in the garbage. You may have new ones when you can be trusted again.
You smile viciously.
I’d walk on glass if it meant being away from you.
You try the pin-pad by the door a few times, brows furrowing in growing fear and frustration as the Error code flashes with a loud buzz each time. You try every combination you can think of—your birthday, Dove’s, Jacob’s, Andy’s, nothing works.
“Fucking—fuck!” You kick the door, cursing again at the pain. Dove burbles sleepily on your back, and when you glance at her in the hall mirror, she’s fixated with a strand of your hair, mouthing on it as she mumbles. If you listen carefully, the syllables are almost Mama, close but not quite.
You’re getting nowhere with the door, you need to try something else. Behind you is the living room, the kitchen, his office and other rooms being places Andy hadn’t “trusted” you enough to allow you to enter. The windows in the living room are firmly sealed when you tug on them, as are the ones in the kitchen. Freedom is six inches of glass away, and you can’t reach it. Panic begins to rise again in your chest, and you tamp it down determinedly. No. No tears. I will get out of here. We will get out of here.
As you are debating whether to venture further into the house, the keypad by the front door lets out a familiar warbling tone you know means it’s unlocked, and the fear makes you go cold.
Andy.
You duck into the pantry as the front door opens, peering through the tiny crack in the sliding cupboard door at the bright beam of the flashlight. Dove babbles and you hush her, your heart pounding.
“Upstairs,” Andy’s voice is low, and deadly serious. You want to cower just hearing it. “Get her and the baby. We need to leave.” Leave? You press closer to the door. Why?
“This is the worst fucking job I’ve ever had,” the sound of Robert Pronge’s voice turns your stomach. “I’m not a fucking babysitter—” There’s a sharp click as a gun is cocked, and you feel no small amount of satisfaction picturing him at the end of the barrel. “I’m fucking going, Christ, Barber.” You listen as he stomps up the stairs, and Andy storms into the kitchen and past, into his office.
You hear things being opened, thrown around. Quickly you reach behind you to check your knots again, making sure Dove’s secure—you’ll have to run, you know that. It will only take Robert a few minutes to deduce you aren’t anywhere upstairs, and by the time Andy figures it out too, you need to be out the door.
You had not heard the lock re-engage, not heard any of the familiar beeps as Andy punched in the code. Of course, you might just have missed it, but you have to try—staying in the pantry isn’t an option. Andy is still opening and closing drawers in his office, you can hear him through the thin cupboard wall. You slowly slide open the pantry door, creeping out through the gap. You’re mindful of Dove, careful not to wake her as you pad quietly back through the house.
The door stands slightly ajar, and through it you can see the driveway, wet grass on either side.
Now. It has to be now.
You throw open the door. You’re prepared to sprint barefoot into the yard but instead are met with a person. Dressed in black body armor, a gun held in one hand. Scrambling backwards you prepare to fight past the security guard, but strangely, he doesn’t reach for you. Instead, he pulls up the edge of his mask, and you feel your knees go weak as you grasp for the doorframe.
“Hello, Mouse.” Ari smiles down at you so brilliantly it takes you nearly a full minute to see the blood on his cheek.
“Ari!” You’re afraid for a moment that he isn’t real, that none of this is, that you’ll open your eyes and Andy will be there instead. Ari cups your chin.
“Cover her ears, Baby.” You reach back and clap your ears around your groggy infant’s head as Ari raises his arm, gun held tightly in his hand. He pulls you to his chest just as Robert Pronge’s panicked footsteps start down the stairs.
“She’s not upstairs, Barber, baby’s gone too—Oh.” He stops suddenly, and you turn to see him glaring hatefully at you, stopped halfway down the staircase. “You little bitch.” He snarls, but doesn’t take a step closer. Ari looks down at you, eyes narrowed at the healing bruise still evident on your face.
“Him or Andy, Mouse?”
“What?”
“Was it him or Andy that put that mark on your face?” He pulls back the hammer.
“H-him.”
“Good.”
You’re still holding your hands over Dove’s ears when he squeezes the trigger, and you watch Robert’s right shoulder explode into a bloody mess of raw skin and torn muscle. He screams, and the sound is more satisfying to you than it probably should be. You expect a matching one from your own throat at the sight, but instead you only inhale sharply, gazing with indifference as the man who’d murdered Irene falls in a clumsy, bloody heap at the foot of the stairs. He holds his ruined shoulder, moaning curses—mostly aimed at you.
“You fucking cunt, you fucking cunt—”
Ari leans down and pulls the guns from their holsters at Robert’s sides, tucking them into his own waistband. He pulls you towards the door, a hand on your back beneath the baby like he’s about to push you over the threshold.
“Go outside, Mouse.” He cups your chin. “I need to finish this.”
You barely make it two steps over the threshold before Ari fires another shot, and Robert’s pained wails instantly cease. You can smell it when he dies, raw and bloody and tinged with gunpowder, blocking out the scent of the coming rain.
Ari is standing over Robert when you go back inside.
“Mouse let’s get you to the truck.” He steps over the dead man’s twitching body. “I need to get you out of here before—”
“Before what, Mr. Levinson?” You look up to find yourself staring straight down the barrel of a shotgun.
Andy stands at the other end of the hallway, the gun raised and steady, pointed directly at Ari. You know the only thing that’s stopped him from firing is your proximity—there’s no clean shot with you and Dove not three feet away. But Andy… his eyes are wild and fever-bright, a terrible expression on his handsome features. Ari isn’t afraid, his face is stone, shoulders squared and ready.
“You’re not keeping her here.” He puts his body in front of yours as Andy raises the gun higher.
“Honey come here.” You tense, but stay still. His eyes go wider. “I said come here!”
“No, Andy.” Your voice is small and trembling, but it is yours. “You can’t—you can’t hurt me anymore.”
“I’ve never—” He shakes his head. “All I’ve ever done was love you!”
“Your love is fucking glass Andy!” You shout. “And you can’t hurt me with it anymore!” Your heart is beating so wildly in your chest that it hurts. “We’re leaving.” Andy laughs derisively.
“And go where, Honey? There’s nowhere far enough that I wouldn’t bring you right fucking back.” He flicks back the hammer, and you flinch, covering your face. “I know all about your little lover boy, here,” he spits, before turning to Ari. “How was she? Pussy’s good, isn’t it?”
Ari explodes outwards, pushing you out of the way before he grabs the barrel, pushing it up just as Andy squeezes the trigger. Splinters and plaster rain down on your heads as the shot goes off like a clap of thunder. Dove is fully awake and squalling now, screaming as you back away from the two men. The gun clatters to the floor as Ari punches Andy hard in the gut.
You don’t see the knife until Andy swings it in a wide arc, and Ari lets out a pained grunt as it connects with his side. You watch, horrified as the blade sinks in to the hilt and Andy twists, a wicked grin on his face.
“Ari!”
He shoves Andy back hard, your captor hitting the wall with a satisfying thud. Ari grimaces, his bloody hand slipping on the handle as he fumbles to pull it out.
“Go, Mouse!” He shouts. “Get to the truck now!” His eyes are wide, pleading. “You need to go!”
He wants you to leave him.
Your ears are ringing, blood pumping louder than your lover’s pleas, than your screaming baby. Ari wants you to run, to never look back. Andy is getting up again, straightening himself up to his full height, he is reaching for Ari again—
The gun.
It’s by your feet.
In all of the confusion you’d barely noticed how close it was, the barrel pointed right at you. You bend down to pick it up. It’s heavy, heavier than the pistol Ari had given you to shoot, but you know the general principle is the same. Andy is on top of Ari now, fighting for the knife, trying to twist it in deeper. Slowly, so slowly it feels like you’re in a dream, you lift the shotgun. You rack it the way you’d seen in movies, the sharp sound making both of the men freeze instantly.
“Get off of him.” When Andy doesn’t move, you press the muzzle to his back. “Get off.”
He moves.
At last you see Andrew Barber unmasked, his face contorted with fury. There is no tenderness in his gaze as he glares at you, stepping slowly away from Ari. Only hate. Andy’s eyes are dark, lips drawn back into an angry snarl. Andy hates you, and you wonder how he’d ever mistaken it for something as tender as love. He hated you for leaving, for living, and he hated you just as much now. His lips twist into a cruel smile.
“You gonna shoot me, Honeybee? You gonna kill your husband?”
“You’re not my fucking husband!” You scream, brandishing the gun. “I’m leaving here, Andy!”
“You’re not going to shoot me. You’re no killer, Sweetheart. Our baby’s on your back. You gonna put a slug in me in front of her?”
“If I have to.” You bite out through gritted teeth. His face twists.
He lunges.
You aren’t expecting him to come for you, to try and wrestle the gun out of your hands the way Ari had done to him, but your finger is on the trigger, and he isn’t fast enough to avoid the slug. He’s thrown back against the wall, red spraying from his side. It’s so thick in the air that you can taste it, worse than Pronge.
He lays there, twitching.
You stare at each other, Andy gurgling and struggling for breath, still reaching for you even as you step away. You help Ari to his feet. He’s unsteady, leaning on you for support as the two of you slowly make your way back towards the door. Ari squeezes your shoulder, planting a kiss on your head as he limps alongside you.
“Wait! Dove is s-still my daughter,” Andy spits blood onto the carpet, sputtering. “T-tell her—”
“No.” You say, shaking your head. Ari leans against the doorframe, watching as you turn back to Andy for the last time. He looks so small there, cowering against the wall as what’s left of his life flows out of him. He reaches for you weakly, bloody fingers skating against your calf.
“She won’t even know your name.”
🌹
Epilogue
“Daddy! Daddy, daddy, daddy!” Dove bounces excitedly in the back seat, pointing at the sprawling old farmhouse as you approach. You can just see the slant of the roof over the tall, shifting grass, and the tiny figures of the construction workers standing on it.
“Yes, that’s right,” you say, nodding encouragingly as you glance over your shoulder. “We’re going to surprise daddy.”
“Sa-pies daddy,” she repeats seriously, before sticking her thumb into her mouth. You’ve barely had time to visit the construction site all week, once or twice at most. It feels like you’ve seen your husband even less, the lingering warmth on his side of the bed, or the sound of his tired footsteps at the door as you fall asleep has been the extent of your interactions. Between his work at the fire-station and getting the house ready, you feel like you’re living with a ghost. Ari had been tackling the farmhouse with the single-mindedness of a man possessed, his paint and wood-chip covered clothing often the only evidence of his passage.
You cut your eyes at the picnic basket on the passenger’s seat, the lunch you’d packed.
I hope he likes it.
The guys at the gate wave at you as you turn down the driveway, and by the time you pull up to the house, your husband is already jogging down the stairs to meet you, a wide grin splitting his handsome face. You put the truck in park as he walks up to the driver’s side, leaning in the window to kiss you.
“How are my girls?” He asks, and Dove giggles.
“Sa-pies!” She claps her hands. “I sa-pies!”
“I’m very surprised, Munchkin,” Ari says as helps you out of the car, and then returns to unbuckle Dove from her car seat. “To what do I owe the honor?”
You heft the picnic basket.
“Lunch,” you say, and he grabs the basket from you, clucking his tongue.
“You know you’re not supposed to be lifting anything over fifty pounds.”
“Like that weighs fifty pounds.”
“Knowing you?” He asks, and you swat him playfully. Dove toddles over on her still unsteady legs and clings to Ari’s pant leg until he hoists her up with the other arm, throwing her over his shoulder. Your toddler screams with laughter. “C’mon, Mouse.” He jerks his head toward the house, where the sounds of construction are still going strong. “Let me show you.”
The radio is still buzzing quietly in the truck’s empty cab, too low to be heard over buzzsaws and hammers. You lean in through the window, reaching for the knob to turn it off.
Inside, the evidence of the construction is everywhere. The dated carpets have been pulled up, the beautiful hardwood beneath lovingly restored. The wallpaper—a horrible 70’s affair—is being steamed and scraped off. They’re in the middle of knocking down one of the walls to widen up the kitchen, and the construction workers stop to greet you.
“Bonjour, Madame Levinson, it’s good to see you!” You look down, face burning.
“Y-you too, Freddy.” Dove clings to your legs.
You pass through the war-zone of a kitchen and out into the backyard, where your toddler begins pulling up handfuls of grass.
“I’m so happy to see you.” Ari says, pulling you against his chest. “Missed you, Mouse.” You burrow in, wrapping your arms around him. They don’t touch, of course, he’s too broad. The v-neck of his henley exposes a hint of his chest hair, and you bury your nose in it. He laughs, tucking a finger beneath your chin and tilting it up to kiss you.
“I missed you too,” you mumble against his lips. “Dove misses you.”
“I’m trying to get the house ready for you know who,” he replies quietly, and his expression speaks to his earnestness. He squeezes your hip, passing a hand over the gentle, nearly imperceptible swell of your belly.
“Let’s eat.”
—
A few hours after your late lunch, you put Dove to sleep in the back of the truck, rolling down the windows and putting a blanket over her little body.
“She’s out for the count,” you reply laughing, shutting the door. “We should head home.” You make for the driver’s seat, but Ari stops you.
“Just a minute, you didn’t look upstairs.” He grabs your hand. “I want to show you.”
“It’s finished?” You ask excitedly, turning back to the house. The guys have all gone home now, and it’s just the three of you.
“Almost,” Ari replies. “When it is, we can leave the apartment for good. Finish moving everything in.” You let Ari lead you back inside, back past the unfinished projects on the first floor and up the steps to the second floor where you know he’s been hard at work. Dove’s room is painted a gentle blue, soft clouds sponged onto the walls and ceiling. In the master, the walls are a light, creamy yellow, one wall still unfinished.Tarps are draped over the floors and sparse furniture to protect them from the paint.
“This wasn’t here before,” you tap an old, heavy looking dresser. It’s familiar—almost like one you and Ari had seen at an antiques market.
He grins. “It’s new.”
“It was too expensive!”
“I found it in the budget.” Ari grips your hips and you laugh, resting your hands on his shoulders. The muscles are solid beneath the thick cotton. “Besides, the bar’s doing well, I can afford a little splurge.”
“It was five hundred dollars.”
“A steal.” Ari holds you, swaying slowly from side to side. The movement is comforting, and you lean into it, and to him. He threads his fingers through yours. “You like it?”
He’d been working hard to make this house a home, he knows how much it means to you to have a place that’s yours, that you got to be a part of, not just a fixture in. You’d picked the paint colors, the flooring, the light fixtures, even the things you didn’t care about Ari made sure to consult you on.
“I love it.”
Ari kisses you again, and shyly you touch your tongue to the seam of his lips. He hums. “I love you, Mouse.”
Those words don’t swarm and suffocate the way they used to, not when Ari says them. No, when he says them, you feel like you can fly.
“I love you too.” No coercion, no prompting—you say it because you want to, because you want him to know you still feel the same. With the freedom he has given you, you have chosen Ari, and that makes all the difference. He kisses you again, and this time it isn’t the chaste touching of lips from earlier.
Ari surges around you like a tidal wave, his mouth hungrily devouring yours as he picks you up. You wrap your legs around his waist as he walks you over to the old chaise lounge that had been in the farmhouse likely longer than you’d been alive, and sets you down on the worn surface. You’re fumbling with the button on your jeans, only freeing them a moment before he begins working them down your thighs.
Your panties go somewhere, you aren’t quite sure where—Ari always manages to do away with them while you aren’t looking, he must have a growing collection of them—
And then all thoughts are lost as he wrenches your thighs apart and runs a slow finger up your slit. You shiver, torn between the shame you’ve learnt and the desire to pull him closer. You, settle for tangling your fingers in his hair. He moans unabashedly when your blunt nails press against his scalp, and he presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh. God. He reaches up to pluck at your nipples with one hand, slapping yours away.
“You’re so wet already, Mouse,” he says lowly. “Supposed to at least put it on my tongue first, Baby.” You clench around nothing and whine his name.
“Ari please.”
It’s like his name on your lips is a signal, and he leans forward circling your clit with his lips and tongue. Your hips jerk fingers tightening in your husband—your real husband, the ceremony had been small but it had been legal and true—grins wickedly against you.
“God I love how you taste.” You don’t get a chance to respond, the quick flicking of his tongue against you while his thick fingers press into your entrance is almost enough to bring you to the edge. “Tastes like mine.”
“O-oh God, A-Ari!” The words trip over themselves in their haste to get out of your mouth as you rock against his face. “Mmm, oh, I—” Your husband wraps his arms around your thighs. The pleased noises he makes as he tastes you are almost as good as his tongue on your clit. You’re drowning in him, in loving and being loved by Ari, and you never, ever want it to stop.
You convulse, panting and whining as you succumb. Thighs trembling and hips pushing hard against Ari’s welcoming mouth. He leaves you there for a moment, dazed as he begins working at his shirt, pulling it up over his head. You help him with the belt, biting your lip when the thick, hard length of him springs out to tap against your cheek. You slide from the chaise to your knees on the floor, peering up at him through your lashes.
With one barely steady hand you encircle the base of him—as much as you can, anyway, your fingers don’t even come close to touching. You brush your lips against the head of him in a soft kiss, and you relish the sound of his breath catching, the soft “Fuck” that slips from his lips. He wants to rush forward, you can tell, the tightness in his twitching thighs as you lave a bolder, hungrier kiss along the veiny side of your husband’s cock tells you the truth of it.
Ari groans, his fingers finding their place in your loose hair and pulling. You hum, cunt clenching jealously around nothing. You take as much as you can of him into your throat, tongue nearly meeting your fingers at the base before pulling back, a thin strand of your own drool connecting the throbbing head of his cock to your swollen lips. You try to do to him what he does to you, circling the head of him with your soft mouth, tracing the throbbing vein on the underside with your tongue until your nose brushes his swollen balls—
And then Ari is pulling you off of him with a curse, tugging you down to the couch and across his lap, hands against the back of the sofa for balance. He shoves your dress up over your hip, groaning as his cock slides against your slick heat. You reach between your bodies to line him up, and Ari curses again as his tip presses into your tight entrance. You brace your hand against his chest as he surges up and into you, driving the breath from your lungs.
“Mmm, fuck,” the old loveseat creaks dangerously beneath you, but Ari either doesn’t hear it, or doesn’t care. You moan into the crook of his neck, teeth catching against his skin and Ari’s fingers flex on your hips in response, tightening as he drives into you again, harder. You’re babbling in response, half formed words and pleas falling from your lips in time to the wet sticky noise punctuating each thrust.
Despite his grip you attempt to grind down, bouncing on the hard dick between your legs. Ari groans, reaching up to tug down the neckline of your dress. He leans down to catch one of your puffy nipples in his mouth, rolling it between his tongue and teeth. He switches from one to the other and back again, the sensation making you squeeze down around his cock. Ari releases them with a pop to kiss you again, teeth finding your swollen bottom lip and worrying it until you open your mouth and allow his tongue to sweep inside.
The feel of him splitting you open, his tongue in your mouth, hand on your hip, God it’s almost too much. Ari reaches between your bodies to flick at your clit with the pad of his thumb, tongue curling against the shell of your ear—
“C’mon Mouse, let me feel you.”
You don’t have much of a choice, cumming with a pathetic little whine. Ari thrusts into the tight, clenching center of you once, twice more before his thighs twitch and tremble as he holds you in place while he empties into you.
“Fuck, mmm,” he mumbles nonsense into your hair as he presses kisses to the top of your head. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, laying your head on his bare chest. His hands find their way up under your dress to stroke your back. You bask in Ari’s love, pressing a soft kiss to his sweat-damp skin. You’d never thought you could have this, that you deserved it, were worthy of it, but Ari shows you every day that he believes it—even when you don’t.
Gingerly he lifts you off of him, eyes gleaming with what you can only describe as male pride at the mess he’d made of you. The half-finished bathroom has hot water, and you clean yourself up as best you can while fending off your husband’s attempts at a second round.
Dove is still fast asleep on the back seat of the truck, and she barely even stirs when you tuck her into her car seat, fastening the seatbelt around her little body.
“Let me drive.”
You get yourself settled in the passenger’s seat and Ari’s hand takes up its place on your thigh, squeezing affectionately. The engine roars to life, and soon the back country prairie roads give way to the bustling little town. Ari reaches for the radio knob as Dove begins to stir, fussing. It soothes her, the static-y sound coming through the stereo. In place of music, however, the grim voice of a radio-host is what you hear instead.
“In international news, the city of Boston is still reeling as the State Attorney’s office continues to roll back the layers of Barber’s deception. Nearly a year ago today Barber’s body was discovered in the charred remains of his home, which also contained evidence of over a decade’s worth of bribes, false evidence, and a network of contacts up to and including wanted criminals, federal judges, prosecutors, and even politicians—”
“You okay, Mouse?” He asks, and for an instant that fragile, broken woman resides in your skin again, staring out through your eyes. For a moment you can smell the sterile musk of Andy’s basement, his horrible cologne, but you blink and it’s gone, replaced with Dove’s lingering baby-smell and the scent of Ari’s aftershave. It’s old fear, old fear that has no home in you any longer. That fear had paralyzed you once, kept you small and docile—but now you simply swat it away, reaching for the radio. You turn the knob, switching it abruptly to another station.
“I’m good.” You reply, smiling. You actually mean it. You squeeze Ari’s hand and he squeezes back. “I’m good.”
Summary: You explore the great Orc stronghold of Tarrath, and what you find is unexpected.
Warnings: 18+ Only, Genre typical violence, Warlord Nomad AU, Dark Fantasy AU, Enemies to lovers, Eventual smut, References to past abuse, Fighting, Monsters, Animal Death, Violence, Mildly described gore
A/N: thank you as always for any and all feedback and interaction with my work! tentatively re-considering starting a taglist—let me know what you guys think!
Tarrath is easily triple, quadruple the size of the Kings’ City, and Steve takes great care as he guides you through it. In another life, you might have been joined by a chaperone to ensure no impropriety were to occur. But in this new life the two of you make your way without a third party for modesty, your hand held in his massive one.
Just to keep from being separated.
“I trust Carol showed you the market.” Steve ushers you through an alleyway, and you emerge in a small, tiled plaza. There is a fountain in the center of the little square, and children laugh and play in the clear water.
“A-a little. It was…”
“Overwhelming?” He supplies. “It will be better when you’ve learnt our tongue.” You nod.
“It seems rather difficult,” you admit.
“Not so difficult as yours,” Steve replies with a laugh. “So many vowels.”
“I—where did you learn? Common?” You ask, following him through the space between the houses. The street you exit onto is busy, but the crowd of people part for Steve, like water curving around a stone. He grasps your hand again, and you feel the familiar warmth in your cheeks and belly as his thumb curves protectively over your knuckles.
“In the King’s City.” Steve says after a moment. “When I was still a youngling.” His eyes go dark. “It is a story for another time.” You try to imagine a young Steve, an Orc in a city of Men, but it is difficult to see him as anything other than what he is—
Power.
The sky is bright over the tops of the shops and houses, the sun a brilliant circle set into the peerless blue. And beyond them—
The cliffs. Your heart pounds.
“Will we go over?” You ask, and he grins.
“Oh yes Little One,” he says. “I will show you the Fall.”
The edge of Tarrath is worn smooth with the passage of time and many, many people. Just beyond it the ocean crashes against the rocks, the scent of saltwater rising up from the distant shore below. Steve holds out his hand when you hesitate.
I’ll fall, I’ll fall and die—
“The city’s magic is old and strong,” he says, one foot on the cliff’s edge. “It will not fail us today.” He smiles at you gently. “Trust me.”
Do you? Do you trust him? You recall that first day—the last day, you suppose, the last day of your old life.
I’m telling you to run.
You are not that woman anymore, scared, incompetent. Your blade hangs above the mantle just the same as Carol’s, your deer horn on the little table at your bedside.
You’ve only to make it to the river!
The woman you had left in the river could not kill a deer. Nor could she skin a rabbit, hold a sword or navigate the stars—it is she who doubts him, you decide. She who whispers fearfully that he will lead you to death and ruin. But you?
You place your hand in his and step forward with him over the very edge of the world.
For a moment there is a rush of air, and the sensation of falling—before your feet touch paved street once more. The world is shifted on its axis now, the sea sparkling at you from the end of every street, like a great wall of endless blue stretching up above your head to that infinite place where it meets the sky.
You stare at it, breathless and wide eyed, too stunned to notice that the orc’s gaze is not on the spectacle above, but on you, a soft smile on his lips.
—
“Are you hungry, Sweetmeat?”
You realize that you are—starved. The meal you had shared with Carol earlier that morning is long gone now, and your stomach twists as if realizing that it is completely empty.
“Yes. But I—”
“You’ve no need of coin with me.” Steve replies, silencing your objection.
Oh.
Your face grows uncomfortably warm again, and you are ever more aware of your hand in his, of every time your bodies brush together as you pass through the streets of Tarrath.
“There is a tavern by the library.”
“There’s a library?” You ask excitedly, and Steve chuckles.
“There is no rival in all the lands. I will show you another day—the hour grows late, and the archivists do not stay long past dusk.” Disappointment dulls the spark of your excitement, but only barely. Steve is a man—well, an Orc—of his word, you know you can trust that he will make good upon his promise.
You’ve been wandering the city the better part of the day, and now the sun hangs low in the sky, close to setting. The heat has abated a little, but not much. Still, you enjoy the breeze that rises up from the sea, cooling your sweaty face. Steve leads you down a merchant-lined street, toward a wide building with a wooden sign out front. There is writing on it that you can’t read, the letters strange and unfamiliar. As you squint at it, Steve chuckles.
“Don’t worry, Sweetmeat. I’ll teach you.” He pulls aside the cloth covering the entrance and ushers you inside.
The inside of the tavern is brightly lit with a fire roaring in the hearth despite the heat outside. A few rabbits roast over it on a spit, and beneath them is a huge, bubbling pot. You sniff the air and your stomach rumbles. It smells good, like warm spiced meat and ale.
There are not many empty tables, but Steve finds one, settling down onto the wooden seat with a sigh. The seats are rather large, and your feet dangle a little off the ground when you heave yourself up into it. The barmaid approaches, furiously wiping down a warped looking glass. She chatters something in Orcish at you, and you smile apologetically.
“I-I’m sorry, I don’t—”
“Com-mon?” She asks brokenly, her smile still broad. “Food eat you?” She asks, pointing at her mouth and then the cauldron over the fire. She holds up two fingers, and you realize after a moment that she means money. You look to Steve for help, and he laughs, before answering for you. You watch as he roots around in the pouch on his belt before producing two bronze coins. She takes them happily, biting one hard before reaching into her massive bosom and producing a purse of her own. She drops them in and then stows it away again.
“Bowl,” she replies happily. “I bring.” She bustles away, returning shortly with two full bowls bigger than your head along with two mugs of ale. She’s given you a healthy portion of stew and a good chunk of rabbit. You look to Steve.
“How do I say thank you?”
“Ahn lat.”
“Ayn lat,” you try, and the barmaid giggles, and says something else before she hustles back over to the packed bar. You glance at Steve.
“What did she say?” A small smile creeps across his face as he lifts the spoon to his lips.
“She said that my pretty human has nice manners.” He takes a bite as you choke on air. Your whole body goes cold and then hot, skin prickling beneath your borrowed dress.
“I—I’m not—” You grab for the ale, taking a big swallow. “I’m not, I mean, we’re not—” You think of Peter’s rejected courting gift, of the shell on your little table.
“Of course not.” He replies, though it doesn’t look as though he means it at all. You’re unsure of whether or not that bothers you. “Eat your food, Sweetmeat,” he says, eyes glittering as he takes another bite. “While it’s still warm.”
You do, taking your first bite with the too-big spoon, and it’s delicious. You close your eyes, savoring it. The spices are new and rich, and you wonder what plants they come from, if you might grow them in your little garden.
“What’s in this?” You ask through a mouthful, and Steve cocks his head.
“Probably aissa, maybe some spice-leaf. Easy enough to grow.” He smiles at you. “Would you like some seeds, Little One? For your garden?” You look down bashfully. How had he known? ”I will bring your seeds, then.”
Gods, you don’t know what to make of the feeling in your chest, joy, anticipation, and some new kind of terror that leaves you breathless. It isn’t like when the zhut had descended upon the pack, or when you had seen the village fall. This is softer. Newer.
When you are done eating—try as you might you cannot finish the massive bowl—Steve takes you back to Carol. The sun is nearly set, the first stars beginning to appear in the sky as he opens the gate for you. Carol is waiting in the doorway, arms folded with a wide, knowing grin that makes you want to flee back the way you’d come.
“Showed her the city, did you?” Carol asks. You nod.
“It was wonderful.” You turn back to Steve. “Thank you.”
“It was my pleasure.” He runs his thumb over your knuckles before letting you go. “And I shall bring you your seeds.” You watch him go until he disappears into the tide of bodies. Carol leans over to pat your shoulder.
“Makes quite the tender suitor, doesn’t he?” She asks, laughing. You stare at Carol, open mouthed, breath caught. Suitor? No. No. He isn’t. Least of all to you.
“What did you say?”
“Your suitor. Tender, isn’t he?” The smile on her face grows impossibly wider as you turn tail and flee up the stairs to your room as Carol’s laughter follows you.
Summary: Your older brother is out of jail and back home, but old habits die hard, and you find yourself caught between what you need, and who can give it to you when Curtis Everett starts hanging around again.
A doppelganger drabble of Lloyd's pov at his brother's and sister-in-law/potential baby mama/princess' wedding.
okay, i couldn’t resist this.
Title: Satellite
Summary: Lloyd cannot escape your gravity, and Ransom learns to accept it.
Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Stalking, Implied murder, Noncon, Dead Dove: Do not eat
You can’t see him.
Or perhaps it’s that you won’t, Lloyd thinks bitterly, downing another flute of champagne. It’s dark outside, and the bright lights of the bridal suite make it impossible to see the garden at night. He tosses the glass and listens for the satisfying crash behind him somewhere in the dark. There’s three more glasses on the tray he’d pilfered from the kitchen, and he downs another one before tossing it, too.
He shouldn’t be out here. Ransom would kill him if he knew he was skulking about outside, but he can’t help it. No matter what he does, what he tries, where he goes, who he kills, who he fucks, he’s drawn back into your fucking orbit, doomed to circle you forever.
He steps closer to the glass.
Lloyd had been a good boy, sitting nice and quiet as you had delivered your heartbreakingly honest vows, and as Ransom had lied his way through his—he wonders if drugging you fits somewhere between honor and love.
After all, Lloyd already knows how your pussy tastes. Feels. His cock twitches in his pants at the thought. Speak now or forever hold your peace. He had held his peace.
It stops after the wedding, Lloyd.
Fine, whatever.
But it hadn’t been fine. It still isn’t.
Lloyd watches as you reach back for the zipper. It’s funny, your wedding dress is exactly what he would have imagined, all classic, elegant silhouettes and silky smooth drapery. It’s even better now watching you peel yourself out of it in favor of the tight little cocktail number you have planned for the reception. You’re not mindful of your state of undress—why would you be, the party’s on the other side of the property, nothing out this way but an empty field.
Fuck.
Beneath your dress is a delicate corset. It buoys the delicious weight of your breasts with elegant laces and bows—a gift begging to be unwrapped. You’re close enough to touch, if not for the glass, inches away and you don’t even know he’s there.
“What are you doing?” Ransom actually sounds angry.
Lloyd reaches for another delicate little flute. “What’s it look like?” He drains it in a single gulp
“Looks like you’re watching my wife through her window,” Ransom replies dryly. “It looks like you’re thinking about going back on our agreement.” He sighs. “You didn’t even make it through the reception.”
“It’s easy for you,” Lloyd snaps, rolling his eyes. “You get to go home to her.”
“She doesn’t hate me, Lloyd. She loves me.” Ransom retorts. Lloyd scowls. “We have a relationship built on more than just fucking.”
“Fuck you.” He throws the glass and waits to hear the sound of it bursting into pieces. “I love her too.” It’s the first time he’s said it out loud, but he’s aware his brother already knows it. “It isn’t my fault she never gave me a chance—”
“Yes it is.”
Lloyd swallows, wishing he had another glass.
“I know.”
Ransom places a hand on his shoulder.
“It was fine before things were serious. You know that. I never…I never minded sharing, before.”
“What makes it serious?” LLoyd snaps, shoving his brother’s hand away. “A ring and some fucking words?” You’re the only thing Lloyd’s ever been jealous of, and Ransom knows that, too. Lloyd wonders if that’s why he hoards you so preciously.
They stand there in silence, watching you prepare to meet Ransom on the dance floor. You look so happy, a gentle smile on your face. Serene. Unaware. He’s had you so many times but it isn’t enough. It never will be, not for Lloyd.
“It’ll be the last time.” He blurts it out before he knows he’s doing it.
“I—”
“I fucking swear.” Lloyd knows he’s lying—Ransom knows it too. He’ll have you as many times as he can, however he can, whatever he has to say to do convince his brother. He wonders if Ran’s as complicit as he is for accepting the lie, making it real. “It’ll be the last time.”
“The last time.”
—
“I should go first,” Ransom replies, looking up from your kiss-swollen lips. “It’s my wedding night, after all.” Lloyd rolls his eyes.
“And what a wedding night it is,” he drawls, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. It comes away wet and shiny with your slick. “
You hiccup.
“We got married!” You kiss Ransom full on the mouth. “I’m so happy—ahn,” the words dissolve as Lloyd plants his tongue firmly into your cunt as your head lolls, toes curling and twitching. “Mm.” Your legs are thrown over his shoulders, his fingers massaging the curve of your hips.
“Oh Princess,” Lloyd breathes the words against your cunt. He’d do this forever if he could, just be this close to you always. “Love you so much.” With one hand he presses down on your belly, and with the other he circles your entrance with a single finger. You whine, and Lloyd knows that’s the closest he’ll ever get to hearing his name on your lips.
Because you still can’t see him.
For this to even happen, that’s the way it has to be. His superiors at the department are look-the-other-wayers under the worst of circumstances, and so under the best ones they hardly noticed when the medical inventory started coming up short on a cocktail they used often during interrogations; one the boys quietly called the Forget-Me-Not.
The first time Lloyd had used it in the line of duty he’d known just what else it could be used for—so much better than alcohol.
And more trustworthy too.
You roll your hips against his face, riding it out as you cum hard on his tongue. He can feel you clenching and sucking at his fingertips. He stays there, relishing the feel of your pleasure almost as much as you are.
“Congratulations, Princess,” Lloyd replies. “You made such a beautiful bride.” There’s a pop as you release Ransom’s cock from your mouth, and you lean up on your elbows, staring down at him with a lucidity he’s surprised to see you still possess.
“Thank you Lloyd.” You hold his gaze for a heartbeat before your head lolls back against the pillow. “I mean—hic—Ransom.” His brother looks at him, panic in his eyes.
“You think she’ll remember this?” He asks, and Lloyd shakes his head. In truth he almost hopes you do, that you saw him, really saw— but he knows this is nothing more than a slip of your tongue. Even if my fucking heart feels like it’s about to jump the fuck out of my chest. If this is true joy, Lloyd knows that whatever else he’s felt, nothing comes close. He drops a heated kiss against the curve of your hip.
“She won’t remember.” He smiles bitterly. “She never does.”
You can’t see him.
Or perhaps it’s that you won’t, Lloyd thinks bitterly, downing another flute of champagne. It’s dark outside, and the bright lights of the bridal suite make it impossible to see the garden at night. He tosses the glass and listens for the satisfying crash behind him somewhere in the dark. There’s three more glasses on the tray he’d pilfered from the kitchen, and he downs another one before tossing it, too.
He shouldn’t be out here. Ransom would kill him if he knew he was skulking about outside, but he can’t help it. No matter what he does, what he tries, where he goes, who he kills, who he fucks, he’s drawn back into your fucking orbit, doomed to circle you forever.
He steps closer to the glass.
Lloyd had been a good boy, sitting nice and quiet as you had delivered your heartbreakingly honest vows, and as Ransom had lied his way through his—he wonders if drugging you fits somewhere between honor and love.
After all, Lloyd already knows how your pussy tastes. Feels. His cock twitches in his pants at the thought. Speak now or forever hold your peace. He had held his peace.
It stops after the wedding, Lloyd.
Fine, whatever.
But it hadn’t been fine. It still isn’t.
Lloyd watches as you reach back for the zipper. It’s funny, your wedding dress is exactly what he would have imagined, all classic, elegant silhouettes and silky smooth drapery. It’s even better now watching you peel yourself out of it in favor of the tight little cocktail number you have planned for the reception. You’re not mindful of your state of undress—why would you be, the party’s on the other side of the property, nothing out this way but an empty field.
Fuck.
Beneath your dress is a delicate corset. It buoys the delicious weight of your breasts with elegant laces and bows—a gift begging to be unwrapped. You’re close enough to touch, if not for the glass, inches away and you don’t even know he’s there.
“What are you doing?” Ransom actually sounds angry.
Lloyd reaches for another delicate little flute. “What’s it look like?” He drains it in a single gulp
“Looks like you’re watching my wife through her window,” Ransom replies dryly. “It looks like you’re thinking about going back on our agreement.” He sighs. “You didn’t even make it through the reception.”
“It’s easy for you,” Lloyd snaps, rolling his eyes. “You get to go home to her.”
“She doesn’t hate me, Lloyd. She loves me.” Ransom retorts. Lloyd scowls. “We have a relationship built on more than just fucking.”
“Fuck you.” He throws the glass and waits to hear the sound of it bursting into pieces. “I love her too.” It’s the first time he’s said it out loud, but he’s aware his brother already knows it. “It isn’t my fault she never gave me a chance—”
“Yes it is.”
Lloyd swallows, wishing he had another glass.
“I know.”
Ransom places a hand on his shoulder.
“It was fine before things were serious. You know that. I never…I never minded sharing, before.”
“What makes it serious?” LLoyd snaps, shoving his brother’s hand away. “A ring and some fucking words?” You’re the only thing Lloyd’s ever been jealous of, and Ransom knows that, too. Lloyd wonders if that’s why he hoards you so preciously.
They stand there in silence, watching you prepare to meet Ransom on the dance floor. You look so happy, a gentle smile on your face. Serene. Unaware. He’s had you so many times but it isn’t enough. It never will be, not for Lloyd.
“It’ll be the last time.” He blurts it out before he knows he’s doing it.
“I—”
“I fucking swear.” Lloyd knows he’s lying—Ransom knows it too. He’ll have you as many times as he can, however he can, whatever he has to say to do convince his brother. He wonders if Ran’s as complicit as he is for accepting the lie, making it real. “It’ll be the last time.”
“The last time.”
—
“I should go first,” Ransom replies, looking up from your kiss-swollen lips. “It’s my wedding night, after all.” Lloyd rolls his eyes.
“And what a wedding night it is,” he drawls, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. It comes away wet and shiny with your slick. “
You hiccup.
“We got married!” You kiss Ransom full on the mouth. “I’m so happy—ahn,” the words dissolve as Lloyd plants his tongue firmly into your cunt as your head lolls, toes curling and twitching. “Mm.” Your legs are thrown over his shoulders, his fingers massaging the curve of your hips.
“Oh Princess,” Lloyd breathes the words against your cunt. He’d do this forever if he could, just be this close to you always. “Love you so much.” With one hand he presses down on your belly, and with the other he circles your entrance with a single finger. You whine, and Lloyd knows that’s the closest he’ll ever get to hearing his name on your lips.
Because you still can’t see him.
For this to even happen, that’s the way it has to be. His superiors at the department are look-the-other-wayers under the worst of circumstances, and so under the best ones they hardly noticed when the medical inventory started coming up short on a cocktail they used often during interrogations; one the boys quietly called the Forget-Me-Not.
The first time Lloyd had used it in the line of duty he’d known just what else it could be used for—so much better than alcohol.
And more trustworthy too.
You roll your hips against his face, riding it out as you cum hard on his tongue. He can feel you clenching and sucking at his fingertips. He stays there, relishing the feel of your pleasure almost as much as you are.
“Congratulations, Princess,” Lloyd replies. “You made such a beautiful bride.” There’s a pop as you release Ransom’s cock from your mouth, and you lean up on your elbows, staring down at him with a lucidity he’s surprised to see you still possess.
“Thank you Lloyd.” You hold his gaze for a heartbeat before your head lolls back against the pillow. “I mean—hic—Ransom.” His brother looks at him, panic in his eyes.
“You think she’ll remember this?” He asks, and Lloyd shakes his head. In truth he almost hopes you do, that you saw him, really saw— but he knows this is nothing more than a slip of your tongue. Even if my fucking heart feels like it’s about to jump the fuck out of my chest. If this is true joy, Lloyd knows that whatever else he’s felt, nothing comes close. He drops a heated kiss against the curve of your hip.
“She won’t remember.” He smiles bitterly. “She never does.”
