suited hand
Day 8 of @ockissfreedom and it's time for the absolute messiest version of Modern AU Daphayden out there! Ayden belongs to @nonagesimus, and @nessa-fang's Bea also has a brief cameo. under the stars - celebration - lips
warning for infidelity (again lol). things get a little hot and heavy, but nothing explicit. (also once again, the "celebration" bit is very loosely applied)
read on ao3 here, or under the cut
Daphne couldn’t tell if it was the stars above them that were going fuzzy around the edges at the moment, or if it was just her mind. Must be that, with the warm, loose feeling that was buzzing through her limbs courtesy of the climax Ayden had wrung out of her not too long ago, as she sat in front of them on the side of the rooftop pool. And with the promise of another circling the inside of her legs under their fingertips as she leaned back against them in a lounge chair now; suit still sopping wet, bikini bottoms still pushed to the side, gathered uncomfortably in the crease of her thigh under the over-sized towel wrapped around them both. It was warm enough, from the poolside warmer, that Ayden felt chill against her back as they shifted, placed the smoldering roach of the joint they’d been sharing in the ash tray on the table next to them. Then, plucked up the bag of sour gummy candies next to it and plopped it against their chest, leaning against the crown of her head.
It got her cackling, craning her arm behind her and wiggling her fingers until they placed a candy in her palm.
“Wanna go out?” they asked. It sounded half-hearted, and she was glad for it. Didn’t want to bother getting dressed, didn’t want to leave the bubble of the penthouse apartment her parents still paid for and go face the idea that there was an entire world out there beyond the private pool and the warm expanse of the California King bed somewhere inside.
She shook her head, swatted their hand away from the ends of her ponytail when they tugged lightly at it as it moved against their chest. Sank her teeth into the peach-flavored ring they’d given her and tore it in half.
“Shouldn’t,” she said, settled back even further against them, giggled as their fingers found the ties of her bikini top, pantomimed at undoing the knot. She didn’t want to elaborate, knew she didn’t have to anyway. They understood the risk she was referring to: figure out a way to keep their hands off each other this deep into a night of cheap beer and good weed, or risk getting caught. Usually the latter only added to the appeal of a night out. Tonight, it made her head swim with more than just pot and tobacco and drink and starlight.
“Technically,” Ayden mused, their voice as low and fuzzy as her thoughts felt as they pulled at the strings of her swimsuit until the knot came loose, pressed their thumb into the knob at the base of her neck where it once rested, “I’m the one being cheated on,” they insisted.
She snorted, dropped her chin to her chest and let her eyes slip closed as their second hand slid along her spine and found the knot at the center of her back and pulled. “How’s that?” she asked. Beneath the towel, the top of her suit slipped free, landed with a little wet slap across her thighs. She rolled her hips backward; Ayden’s arm snaked around her bare stomach, pressed her harder against them.
“Don’t think we ever officially called off that last one,” they murmured, breath hot over her skin, goose-pimples rising beneath their mouth as their lips brushed the base of her skull. They twisted her ponytail around their wrist, and she drew in a sharp breath, squeezed her knees together.
“I gave the ring back to you,” she argued, weakly. She knew they were just being an ass, teasing her. Or maybe they had changed their mind and were now angling for her to agree to go out, so they could fuck in a club bathroom with a baseline thrumming through both their bodies. She tried to deflect, reached back again with her left hand open, palm flat, and demanded, “Candy.”
They didn’t listen, not at first; wrapped their lips around her ring finger instead until their teeth were closing lightly over the ring that sat there now. It was an emerald, silver-toned. She’d asked for gold, and a diamond. Their tongue was soft as it slid over her knuckles, teeth scraping against her flesh as they used them to pry the ring off her finger. Behind her, they shifted, and then she heard the clink of metal against the ceramic ash tray. The plastic bag of candies rustled. She waited for the weight of a peach-ring in her palm. Instead, it squeezed around the tip of her ring-finger, pushed down as far as it could stretch around her.
Daphne twisted in their arms, shifting position until she sat in their lap, facing them, peering at the wide grin splitting their features. She let the towel slip from her shoulders; they kept their eyes on hers, lifted one eyebrow as she kept watching them.
“Should we?” they asked, and laughed when she responded by hitting the side of their arm.
“Don’t fuck with me,” she insisted, lifted her hand to start pulling at the gummy ring around her finger.
Their hand found her wrist, face fell. “Don’t,” they said.
She waited a beat, for their expression to shift, for a chuckle or another grin; any indication that they were still just joking. They were still as stone, aside from the rising of their chest with their breath, the slight tightening of their fingers around her wrist.
“Yeah?” she asked, finally, and when they only nodded in response she reached out, tugged at the little braid behind their ear until they were craning up to meet her.
Their tongues touched first, lightly, searching. Each of them waiting for the other to back down, pull away. And when they both plunged in deep instead, when their lips met hers, the taste of peach candies still clung to them, granules of sanding melting sour-sweet under her tongue.
- - -
Ayden was still there when she woke up in the morning. Daphne had fallen asleep worrying they might not be. It wouldn’t be the first time one or the other of them had woken up and thought too long on how absurd it really was that they’d agreed to go for it the night before. Neither of them was any good at relationships. The fact they were here in bed with her while her fiancé slept across town, in a different bed and a different apartment — the one she usually lived in — was evidence enough of that. Trying would just ruin what they had. It was easy, fun. Even when it shouldn’t be.
She sat up, rolled onto her side to fumble for her phone on the nightstand. Scrolled past Anders’s name, left his messages unread, until she found Bea’s name and fired off a quick: we did it again 💍
The response was almost immediate: did they legalize polygamy while i was sleeping or???
Daphne sent back a middle finger. It was followed swiftly by a kiss emoji, and the little ellipsis showing Bea was typing back. Which meant she’d have to start answering questions if she kept looking at their chat. So she turned her phone face down, placed it back on the nightstand.
She’d been meaning to break things off with Anders anyway, was the thing. He was too serious, she thought: about his job, about the world, about her. It felt suffocating, like he saw something in her that wasn’t really there, that she couldn’t possibly live up to. Like eventually he’d figure that out for himself and it wouldn’t matter that for now, he clung to her like she was the last sip of water in a desert. He’d see the truth and move on.
“Hey,” she said, a little louder than necessary, folding herself back under the covers and scooting across the wide mattress until she was pressed up against Ayden’s back. She wormed one of her legs between theirs, hooked their ankle with her own and ignored the sleep-addled grumbling to bite at the lobe of their ear, tongue at the piercing there. “Wanna go to Ibiza?”
- - -
In Ibiza, it was a lot easier to ignore Anders’s continued texts and phone calls. Daphne had never properly set up her voicemail, so those at least she could entirely avoid. After awhile, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d spent a night without Ayden. And when the guilt crept in, when she started to feel bad for not even offering Anders proof-of-life, she’d just lace her fingers through Ayden’s and drag them to the Vila, squeeze both their bodies into the crowd until the sweat and the heat wrung it all out of her. There wasn’t enough room on the dance floor, to think about it. About the fiancé back home or the maybe-engagement that she was sure would fall apart the moment they touched back down on the tarmac in her parents’ jet.
For now, she could just cling to Ayden’s shoulders — pink from the sun, even more freckled than usual, warm under her hands — and open her mouth to them, let them spit whatever rum and citrus drink they were working their way to the bottom of onto her waiting tongue and lick the sticky-sweet remnants from the seam of her lips later, back at the resort.
For now, she could just be as deliriously happy as she wanted, let the joy bubble up and laugh it out against their skin and pretend like she could stay there until she’d drained her parents’ accounts dry and never have to go back.
- - -
But they had to, go back. Ayden had to work. Daphne got a text from her father threatening to report the jet stolen.
They slept for most of the ride home; plane and town car both. And when they made it back to the penthouse, the quiet, urgent way that Ayden herded her towards the bedroom, thrusting their tongue into her mouth like a demand, was enough to know.
- - -
Anders’s phone only rang once before he picked up, with a forceful, “It’s about fucking time, Daphne.”
She crossed her legs on the lounge chair next to the pool, rubbed her thumb along her empty left ring-finger. Tasted sour peach on her tongue.
“Sorry,” she said. She expected it to come out small and pathetic. Instead, she sounded bored.
“What do you want?” he asked, voice tired. She could practically hear his teeth grinding, jaw set tight.
She shrugged, didn’t quite care that he couldn’t see it, let the silence stretch on as she strained her ear for the sound of his breathing before finally asking, “Can I come over tonight?”
Anders scoffed. “Come over?” There was an edge to his voice, a fraying, hysterical quality that had her wincing, closing her eyes.
“Yeah,” she said, shrugging again. “Well,” she continued, trailing off, letting him read the rest of it in her silence. There wasn’t anything to say that she hadn’t already broadcast to him with weeks of ignoring his attempts at making contact, with the thousands of miles she’d put between them the moment someone had even pretended to offer her something else.
Sighing, he said, “I’ve got a back-to-back tomorrow. You can leave the ring on the dresser.”
“Yeah,” she nodded, the word moving thick through her throat. “Okay.”
She waited to hang up until after the line went dead on his end.
The phone was still in her hand when Ayden came out from the apartment, asked, “That him?”
She nodded again, waited to look at them until they were straddling the chair in front of her, one hand braced on each of her knees. They looked uncharacteristically serious, brows furrowed a little as they watched her swallow back a sob. She didn’t try to read them, didn’t want to know what they thought of her right now.
“Time to call it?” they asked, casual even as their thumb brushed the inside of her knee.
Again, she nodded. Thought better of it for a moment and just said,
“Tomorrow?”
They broke out into a grin, said, “I dunno, I’ve got a lot on my plate tonight.”
Laughing, Daphne kicked out a leg at them, planted her foot in the center of their chest and pushed just enough to play at kicking them off the chair. They wrapped a hand around her calf, squeezed tight enough that a bolt of want shot straight to her core under their touch. With their free hand, they fished a pack of cigarettes out of their pocket, then dropped her leg to take one out and grab their lighter.
She leaned forward until they placed the butt in her mouth, held it for her while they lit it, let her lips brush against their fingers as she took a drag. Then, they removed it, covered the faint imprint of yesterday’s lipstick with their own lips; were quiet for awhile, as they traded drags back and forth. When they went to ash in the little ceramic tray on the table next to them, they paused. At a glance, Daphne could see that there was a pool of rainwater in the bottom of the tray, but that didn’t seem to be what had caught their attention. They stretched sideways, fingers dipping into the water.
Came back with the ring, wiped it dry on their shorts before taking her wrist in their hand. The ring slipped easily over her knuckle at their guidance, nestled neatly against the top of her palm.
Her heart froze in her chest. Stopped beating, went colder and more still than she could recall it ever having been before. She tried to take a breath, tried to reach down inside herself for the words to tell them. Found herself empty.
“Buffy and pizza tonight?” they asked, so simply it made her heart ache.
“Sounds good,” she answered, and Ayden sucked in one last drag of their cigarette, leaned forward to pry her lips apart with theirs and breathe the smoke out into her lungs, clouding the space between her ribs where the truth liked to hide.
She’d tell them later, in a few days maybe. After everything was properly over, and the ring was gone.
