2 for emmetttttttt my child
hey there anon, thank you so much! I don’t think you meant to tap into a piece I am working on right this very minute, but you did and I’m glad for it. Enjoy :)
~*~*~
2. “Can I kiss you?”
(quick warning: mentioned past noncon/dubcon + Rhiannon, but its fluff!)
Faye hiccuped through tears. Even in the dark, he could see the redness blotching her nose, the smear of wetness on her cheeks, the rubbed patches around her eyes. The sleeves of her bathrobe smelled like vodka. “It’s not worth staying up for.”
Emmett crouched down in front of her, where she was curled up on the carpet. “If you’re this upset, its worth something.”
“It really isn’t.”
“Why don’t you let me decide that for myself, Faye?”
Emmett let his eyes wander over her, curled up at the foot of the couch. It wasn’t the first time he’d taken her in -- her old-fashioned clothes and dimpled smiles, the curve of her legs; her dark hair and glittering eyes reminding him of someone he’d rather not think about. Her sparkling laugh, the little sway to her hips when she walked. It made him warm on the inside, left him staring longer than he should have.
He stared even now. Even as she was wrapped in her bathrobe and nightshirt. Even though her eyes were dulled from crying and she smelled like alcohol. He found himself enthralled; being pulled in without knowing why or how or how to stop it. Rhiannon never left him feeling this way -- wobbly and warm and tight. He didn’t quite know what to do with it.
Emmett reached out, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ears. “Why are you down here?”
“Bad dream,” Faye murmured, cotton-mouthed.
“What do you have bad dreams about?” Emmett lowered himself down onto the floor. He was wary of how close he was to her, wary of how he wanted to be even closer, to touch her. It was a foreign feeling, but not unpleasant.
“Don’t worry about it,” Faye shook her head, glancing up at him with a frail smile. “I’m like you, I don’t like talking about things that might make me a burden.”
Emmett hummed, but didn’t move. He glanced out the sliding glass doors leading out to the deck and the city spread out beyond it. He heard her sigh and shift, then a small hand come to rest on his shoulder.
“You should go to bed. I’m going to be up for a while.”
“Do this often?”
“Yeah.”
Emmett hummed and turned towards her. He felt himself run fingers softly through her hair. “I’ll stay up with you. I don’t like sleeping.”
“Why not?” she asked, breathless.
“Bad dreams.” He leaned forward, resting hands on either side of her. Their noses brushed. Her eyelashes tickled against his cheek. “Faye.”
“Emmett.”
“Can I kiss you?”
He felt the moment she leaned in, tilting her face up to his. Faye’s lips were soft, slotted against his perfectly. His stomach flipped pleasantly as they moved against his. He remembered Rhiannon’s hands pushing his face into that same position, roughly pulling him down; remembered how his stomach had clenched and threatened to spill over every time.
But this was different. This was warm and easy, gentle and sweet. Faye’s fingers roamed over his skin and hair, holding but never pulling; guiding but not forcing. He leaned closer, pressing her against the couch, a fresh curl of warmth in his gut as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
