Deadlines & Commitments
Neil x F!Reader
Chapter 13 - Bond Street Underground Station
Masterlist; Chapter 12 Summary: Tenet Christmas party and all that it entails. Namely, drunkenness, a terrible DJ, and jealousy that has no place existing in the first place. Warnings: 18+ content (and I do mean that), swearing, stupidity. Author's Notes: Hello, after six months. It's embarrassing as hell, but it is what it is. At least thanks to my insanely slow writing speed, the December setting in this chapter isn't as striking as the last time. Small victories, and all that. This chapter has pretty much zero importance in the grand scheme of things (unless we consider a first bj important), but what it does have is fluff, dancing (obvs) and smut. It was fun to write, so I hope it will be equally fun to read ✨ Thank you for waiting on my updates, reading and in general hanging on 💕 Let me know what you think? Taglist: @hollandorks, @cynem4, @stargirl25 (let me know if you want to be added).
You sighed for the umpteenth time as you threw yet another dress onto the bed and eyed the growing pile. Because the thing was, no one had warned you just how bloody difficult it was going to be to find something to wear for Neil’s work Christmas party. Bordering on impossible, in fact. Glancing at the clock to ensure you were not yet late (albeit close to it), you assessed the choices with an increasingly critical eye. After another long-suffering sigh, you grabbed the first option that did not seem horrendous and put it on, mindful of the passing minutes.
You could already feel the anxiety building up, fully aware of the fact that attending an event of this calibre with Neil was not something you should be doing in the first place. But he asked. So earnestly and as though he actually wanted you there. There was no way in hell you could deny him that. Or anything. And that was the crux of things. The reason for all torment. And so on and so forth.
It was one of those things you refused to acknowledge. Naturally.
Having assembled the outfit with exactly one minute to spare until the pick-up time, you grabbed the handbag and ran down the stairs, just short of breaking your neck in the high heels. But, predictably, all pains of that stressful afternoon faded the moment you saw Neil inside the car as he pulled over to the pavement by your apartment and unlocked the door.
Yet another thing added to the list of topics you did not dare think about.
“Afternoon, sunshine,” Neil spared you a glance as he delivered the greeting with an unusual flair and pulled away from the curb, artfully joining the late Friday traffic “Are you excited?” the attempt at small talk was a noble effort; you had to give him that.
Except that after an afternoon like this one, the last thing you wanted was to pass empty pleasantries and lies to ensure things stayed superficial and artificially happy.
“More like terrified. I spent an embarrassing amount of time picking out my outfit, and I still look like shit” sighing, you undid the top buttons of your coat and turned up the aircon on the passenger side.
It was not an attempt to fish for compliments. More an expression of frustration and insecurity about the evening that was still reigning freely over your mind. But now it was too late to turn down the invitation and apologise to Neil. Now there was no turning back. And wasn’t that the most terrifying of thoughts?
“You most certainly don’t look like shit” Neil glanced at you briefly once more, much too quickly to perceive anything at all about your appearance.
Yet still, the gesture alone made you stifle an unbidden smile. Fuck’s sake.
“You haven’t even looked at me,” you deflected its simple pleasure by biting into the cynicism.
While aware it was much too late for Neil to be scared off with something this straightforward. The only thing it did was bring that infuriating smirk onto his handsome face.
“I would, but driving the car is unfortunately the priority right now,” shrugging apologetically, Neil tightened his left hand on the steering wheel, pausing briefly to navigate a diversion at one of the busier intersections by the Thames. Once you were driving alongside the river, Neil placed his warm hand on your knee, branding your skin like a hot poker “Still, though, you always look beautiful” his voice softened around the vowels of the praise as he squeezed your knee over the tights and shot you an easy wink “So deal with it, Cupid”
He did not take his hand away. It was a detail your brain latched onto as you processed multiple incriminating reasons for why it felt so good to be complimented so off-handedly, yet with sincerity.
“Thanks,” ignoring the thoughts, you allowed your hand to rest over his, gently caressing his skin. Even if only so that you had something to do with your hand, “I guess”
It was safe to say he was yet to convince you. If such a feat were even possible. Doubtful.
But the look Neil sent you suggested he was about to ignore the self-depreciating strand and keep on trying to change your mind.
“I also know that everyone will like you” the sheer conviction in his voice perhaps would have done the job if the claim did not sound oh so audacious. But before you could point out at least five things that were wrong with it, Neil followed it with something even more ridiculous, “Hell, they might like you more than they like me” his tone was filled with so much certainty that you could do nothing but stare at him in utter confusion.
And briefly pondered the state of his sanity. Not for the first time.
“Yeah, I certainly doubt it,” offering him your eyeroll, you pressed your lips into a thin line and looked away, choosing to stare outside the window for a moment.
Mostly because you did not see a point in arguing about the impossible and the ludicrous. But Neil disagreed. You felt his hand tighten over your knee, his thumb brushing soothing lines over the inside of your thigh, seemingly unconsciously.
“You’re cool. I’m a certified loser who likes physics a little too much to seem normal” his added argument did not help the cause, however.
All because it sounded improbable. You were a complete newcomer, about to step into a work Christmas party with nothing but charm and goodwill up your sleeve. Well, that, and the fact that, for some unknown reason, Neil wanted you there. As though he could not find a better plus one. As though he was not about to get one there. In which case, you would not blame him.
“Doubtful, but okay” feeling the tiredness seep into your voice, you quickly changed the subject, aiming for something at least a tiny bit light-hearted “At the very least, I’ll go nag your mates until they hate me, too” a dry chuckle broke through the silence between you without the subtlety you counted on.
There was no chance that Neil would not hear all that you did not say. You felt it in the fact that he wasted no second to return to touching your knee as soon as he had completed a turn on the roundabout. His next comment only confirmed the hunch.
“No, at the very least, you’ll go shag me in the cupboard, remember?” the grin in his voice made you turn sharply to meet his gaze with a bewildered look in your eyes.
Because surely it was just a joke? Right?
Not that you had anything against the concept. Faced with Neil’s bright grin in full force, without a shadow of uncertainty, you could only return the smile and give him a feigned disinterested shrug:
“If you so insist,” putting your hand back on his, you allowed your fingers to entwine with his and squeezed his palm.
Just once. Thank you.
***
Neil carefully manoeuvred Cupid through the doors to the HQ with his hand on the small of her back. Admittedly, that was not necessary. But who could blame a man for taking some liberties when his companion looked like that? Read: breathtakingly beautiful.
Plus, he still had considerable concerns regarding whether she was about to duck underneath his arm and flee the scene should he forget to pay attention. Not that Neil could blame her. If he were to be honest, the only hope for making this event decent was Cupid’s company and the unlimited access to the bar, set up specifically for this occasion by TP. Which was precisely why he asked her to come along. For perfectly selfish reasons.
Taking a fortifying deep breath as he had led her through the building to the auditorium, Neil could already hear the party gaining volume. The bass from the DJ’s booth reverberated through the walls as they neared the room. Turning his head to comment on the music choice (questionable, if Ed Sheeran’s ‘Shape of You’ being played at a Christmas party and before 8 pm even was indicative of anything), he got as far as opening his mouth before being rudely interrupted in the loudest of fashions:
“Oi! Glad to see you both finally honoured as with your presence,” Ives waltzed in from the side door like a character entering their scene in the act of Shakespeare’s comedy.
Naturally, he was not alone. Wheeler followed with her typical aura of nonchalance and judgment. She adjusted the jacket of her two-piece suit and shot them a cheeky smile. A true sign of at least a drink’s worth of alcohol in her bloodstream.
“That would be on me. Apologies,” Cupid sheepishly raised her hand in half a wave and smoothed invisible wrinkles on her dress.
The way she acted clashed so drastically with everything Neil thought he understood about her that he instantly protested:
“Nonsense, that would be entirely on the bloody traffic” waving off her concerns with something way too soft to be displayed so openly in front of two thirds of the muppets, he cleared his throat slightly before changing the topic “Is it already carnage over there?” he vaguely gestured towards the auditorium where now the tune has changed to ‘Freestyler’ (tragically).
“Not quite, but I think John might soon realise that opening the bar before serving food was not the right call” Wheeler winced as if picturing the hell that was soon about to unfold before their eyes.
Considering the previous renditions of the Tenet Christmas party, Neil did know what she meant. His face reflected her wince as Cupid frowned sympathetically:
“Ouch,” she hesitated just a second before asking the key question, “Shall we go get a drink then?”
Having already discussed their joint decision to come back via an Uber, lest Neil be forced to a night of sobriety during one evening in a year that specifically required some form of intoxication, he was quick to agree. But before he could voice the enthusiasm, Neil caught the pointed glance from Wheeler. A wordless signal that she wanted to talk. For bad or for worse.
“Definitely,” luckily, Ives was not partial to that silent conversation and readily offered Cupid his arm, leading her down the corridor before she could react.
Neil spotted her confused look and added the necessary encouragement before she could start drawing false conclusions. Like he knew she tended to do. Especially wound up and stressed, and too proud to let anyone know. And that was his most affectionate judgement, thank you very much.
“Go, I’ll find you in a minute,” sending her a smile, Neil watched as Cupid mirrored the expression and happily let Ives drag her towards the party.
His pathetic pining was interrupted not a moment later:
“I’m glad she came with you. She’ll surely be a breath of fresh air in this madness” hearing genuine fondness in Wheeler’s voice made Neil pause.
It was still something novel. Usually, she was the one who treated strangers and new acquaintances with the most reserve and suspicion. And she never complimented them at every turn, asking for a private number for whatever purpose, and willingly spending her free time socialising. And yet, with Cupid, Wheeler was doing all that and more. Not that Neil was complaining.
He would take this unprecedented friendliness over distrust any time. Especially since he had thoughts he wanted to share with someone. Anyone but Cupid.
“It’s what I’m hoping for,” smiling despite his better judgment, Neil allowed the frankness to take over the conversation. Because she was the only person he could say this to, “Even if one probably should not bring one’s fwb to a work event,” the self-reflection was yet another one of the many brain worms that skittered around his head whenever he left it unattended and without a distraction.
Because as much as Neil would have loved to pretend that inviting Cupid was something normal, he knew that it was everything but. She knew it too, if her hesitation was anything to go by. Once again, he was blurring the lines, fully conscious of the fact that it was going to complicate everything. And make him even more miserable at that point in the future (probably near one) when she decided to part ways with him.
Chancing a cautious look at Wheeler, he was met with her steady gaze, which stared into the depths of his soul. She was not judging him; that much was clear. She was, however, drawing her conclusions and storing them for future use. One that might require her to give him an ‘I told you so’ soon.
“One probably should not, indeed…” with a final all-seeing look, Wheeler softened her voice to muse aloud, “I wonder how Sophie will feel about this turn of events, though,” throwing him a cheeky side-eye, she leaned against the wall and anticipated implosion caused by her words.
Admittedly, Neil did not expect that. Sophie was a fellow agent in the organisation, a confident young woman who more than likely had a crush on him. It was not a secret, quite the opposite. Sometimes it seemed like everyone was aware of her feelings. And Neil personally did not mind. She was not annoying in her infatuation, and, once or twice, he did consider asking her out in the chance that something good could result from it.
But, as he was ashamed to admit, ever since meeting Cupid and the spark that it triggered, he did not pay much attention to Sophie.
“I… didn’t think about that,” admitting the embarrassing truth, Neil mirrored Wheeler’s pose and allowed the cold wall to cool his blooming blush.
That complicated things. Potentially. And in ways that Neil was not particularly excited to discover.
“Well, it’s not like you and Cupid are anything serious. Soph’s still has a chance,” as if fully aware of the extent of his tiny internal crisis, Wheeler cocked her head to the side and measured him with another intense look.
While knowing exactly what she did when she reminded him about the casual nature of his relationship with Cupid. While knowing that it was something Neil struggled with. Infuriating woman.
Except that, of course, she had a point. Sophie still had a chance. Cupid probably would not bat an eyelid if he decided to leave the party with somebody else. The only problem was that Neil did not particularly want that.
Still, one was supposed to keep an open mind. Or something.
“I suppose so…” sighing, he tried to shake off the resentment towards the idea and asked, “Do you think I’ll be seduced?” pushing himself off the wall to start walking towards the auditorium, Neil offered Wheeler a wry smile.
“I’d expect nothing less, mate” her laughter complemented the statement as she fell into the step next to him and schooled her features back to the trademark nonchalant smile.
***
While you had come up with a million ways this evening could go, with a million scenarios of how Tenet agents behaved during a Christmas integration, the reality of it still managed to shock you repeatedly. You did not expect to see at least two people walk into a wall or fall over a table in a drunken haze before 9 pm. Or to have at least half a dozen people, who had licences to kill (Neil told you as much), dance to the sounds of Shaggy’s ‘Bombastic’. Or that Neil would be right next to you for most of the evening despite your sincere encouragements that he did not have to do that.
Because once you had successfully convinced him that he was free to go anywhere he wanted, even if just for a couple of minutes, John joined you quicker than you could let out a sigh:
“Enjoying the chaos?” the older man smoothly slid into the booth seat opposite yours and set down his pint of Guinness with a clink.
His presence was just as surprising as it was wholly welcome. While he was readily taking part in all the previous outings you had with Neil’s friends, John was the one you talked to the least. He usually stayed silent, observing the scene with almost unnerving levels of attention and awareness. It would not even be an exaggeration to say that the man intimidated you as much as you wished to know him better. Well, no time like the present, apparently.
“Shouldn’t you be somewhere else?” offering him a small smile, you made a show of looking around the room and its various Renaissance-like tableaus of action “Entertaining your employees or policing the alcohol consumption?” as if on cue, you both watched another person wobble on their feet on the dancefloor, clearly reaching the limit in their tolerance.
The Bambi on ice impression, enacted to the sounds of Kelis’ ‘Milkshake’ made you both snort with laughter.
“My employees are probably already sick to death with me. And it’s much too late for that second thing,” shrugging, John arched his eyebrow and prompted, “So?”
Supposedly, this was your invitation for honesty. Reclining slightly in the seat, you measured him with a long look before responding:
“I mean, it’s surely chaotic enough. More so than I thought possible. I kinda expected Tenet agents to be much more… subdued” the raucous laughter acting as background music to your statement, contrasted the words as you added, “Collected, perhaps”
Not that you were complaining. In fact, the levels of melodrama you had encountered during this evening were the main reason you were still there. That, and Neil’s unwavering presence, that is.
“They are, but not when there’s unlimited alcohol involved and the only chance to let down their guard for an evening” John’s thoughtful hum supported his answer as the man mirrored your relaxed position and regarded you cooly over the rim of his pint.
Somehow, whether it was due to your own dose of liquid courage or the fact that he had approached you, you did not feel judged. In fact, his openness served as the perfect trigger to voice your thoughts. Especially those that you could not tell anybody else.
“Makes sense. Except that Neil doesn’t seem as eager to relax,” as a tinge of worry crept into your voice, you dropped your gaze to the tabletop and traced the wood marks, unwilling to give him more vulnerability.
That was quite enough already. You were not supposed to care this much. Or, at all. And yet.
“That sounds like him,” letting out a sigh, John measured you with another long look. You did not have to raise your head to feel its weight “Still, I appreciate it that you’re trying” it was the genuine gratitude in his voice that made you look up at last.
It was utterly unprecedented. Unearned. Undeserved.
Surely, he knew.
Unease twisted in your gut as you fidgeted in the seat, forcing yourself to keep your eyes glued to his face as you replied:
“Well, he’s my friend, so…” of that much you were sure. But your brain did not wish to stop there, instead making you blurt out another set of questions that was uncalled for “Does he talk to you about me? About what we’re… doing?” a pathetic blush bloomed on your cheeks as you noticed John’s knowing smile.
Though what was it that he knew, you did not want to discover. In fact, you did not understand why it felt so crucial to ask, or why you desperately needed an answer. You got as far as opening your mouth to retract the questions and beg John to forget it ever happened before he replied:
“Rarely. That man is the opposite of kiss and tell. That much I can assure you” his reassuring grin only worked half as well as he probably wanted it to.
Sure, it was encouraging to know Neil was not out there dissecting every nanosecond of your nights together for an audience. Because as much as you were confident about your skills and had a whole plethora of sounds and memories to back up the argument that you could get Neil off no problem, it was still something that felt almost… sacred. Only yours and his to keep and cherish.
But there was something else in John’s gaze that made you pause and keep dwelling on the subject with a simple question:
“But?” ensuring the openness towards answers of any kind was clear on your face, you arched your eyebrow as you watched John hesitate.
It was a blink-and-you-miss-it moment, barely there. But you noticed anyway. Except that neither this nor the honesty in his gaze prepared you for the answer.
“But I know that he’s very much into you and that what you share is helping him become more confident, so thank you” John bowed his head with sincerity as his hand breached the table to give your palm a brief pat.
Your cheeks heated up as you bowed your head and dropped your gaze to the wooden pores again. Shame seemed stuck to your throat, impossible to swallow or ignore. You did not deserve that. Not in the slightest. Not at all.
And John needed to understand. Just in case he was the one comforting Neil in the inevitable moment of your fuck up.
“I’m not sure I deserve that,” dropping your voice to a whisper, you pressed your lips into a thin line and flattened your fingers against the cool wood.
To feel something different from remorse.
You were half expecting John to leave it at that, to stand up and abandon you to your embarrassment, but instead you felt his light touch on your chin, tipping your head up to meet his gaze. There was no judgment or doubt on his face as he added a reassurance with near startling conviction:
“You do. Trust me that I know you do” there was something unreadable in his eyes as he urged you to believe his words without question.
As if he knew what he was saying was true, instead of it being a mere platitude or an expression of hope. As if it were something he could vouch for. Except that made no sense. Did it?
After a beat, you shook your head lightly to clear it from ridiculous thoughts. Before you had to find some coherent response, you felt a familiar hand touching your shoulder.
“Dance with me,” Neil leaned in to whisper the words into your ear.
Before you whipped your head to the side to look at him, you registered John’s pleased smirk as the older man quietly stood up from the booth and walked away with the air of someone much too confident for their own good.
But there were many more pressing matters to attend to.
“Really?” as soon as you turned your head to look at Neil, you were shocked by his proximity.
The mere centimetres between your faces felt much too dangerous for a moment in public. And in front of all his coworkers, at that. Yeah, that would not do.
“Yep. I’d like that very much” Neil only nodded, clearly more than convinced that was exactly what you were supposed to be doing.
And it is not like you could say no. Admittedly, you had been loosely tapping the rhythm of every song that came up for the past few hours. Admittedly, you were always up for dancing. No matter the time and place. You could feel the resistance crumbling like a sandcastle during a high tide. Stifling an eyeroll that you did not mean at all, you sighed and reached out to smooth a lock of hair that was falling in his eyes:
“Okay, fine. But if the next song is some rubbish straight off the charts, I’m changing my mind,” stating the condition you shifted in the seat to give Neil a space to join you in the booth.
You did not need to give him further instructions as he wordlessly slid into the seat, pressing his body against yours in a move that was everything but accidental.
As was the knowing smirk he sent your way.
“I knew you’d say that. Which is why I requested a couple of songs to come on next, perfectly selected just for you,” finishing the sentence with a wink, Neil shrugged as though it was not revelatory.
As though you were supposed to expect that kind of dedication. All to convince you to dance with him. Utterly incomprehensible.
“…What songs?” blinking, you tried to find the answers to your questions in the depths of his blue eyes.
But to no avail. His face remained infuriatingly handsome and mysterious as Neil only nudged your shoulder with his and undid yet another button on his shirt. Yes, you were counting.
“You’ll see, Cupid,” he flashed you an enigmatic smile, surely rivalling the Mona Lisa, and casually reached out for your drink to steal a sip from the glass. Your glare did nothing to quench his thirst “Admittedly, the DJ looked at me as though I’ve lost my mind when I gave him the list, but he agreed,” he added after a greedy swig, only adding to your puzzlement.
What was one to expect but the absolute worst?
“I’m scared” the shiver was only half-feigned as you watched him closely, trying to predict what to expect.
But, as you probably should have anticipated from a special task force agent, practically a spy, he was impossible to read when he did not want to be. And wasn’t that a terrifying thought?
“You should be,” Neil winked as the final beats of Sean Paul’s ‘Temperature’ reached closure.
Before you could fully perceive his movement, he stood up from the seat and extended a hand towards you with a flourish. You raised your head with eyes wide open as familiar sax and percussion filled the room.
“Glen Miller? Seriously?” you choked out the question with your gaze already darting between the people to measure their level of consternation.
It did not take too long to determine that it was high. Understandably.
Yet, still, even in your shock, you could not fight the grin threatening to take over your face.
“Deadly,” Neil kept his steady gaze on you as he wiggled his fingers, wordlessly asking for that promised dance.
You already knew there was no point in fighting it. Without another word, you accepted his hand and let Neil lead you through the confused audience to the centre of the dancefloor. Neil smiled as he smoothly arranged you in the correct position for a slow swing number. You could only grin back as the instincts took over, instantly transporting you back to the Suncastle in Skegness and the Timeless Twirls. To what was probably one of the best evenings in your feeble existence.
It was not difficult at all to find your rhythm, to twirl around the room with the almost practised grace of two people who had done this before. Although this time, Neil did not seem to hold back, fearing judgment and falling short of some non-existent standard. On the periphery, you could feel the stares, you could hear a laugh that sounded suspiciously like Ives, but none of that truly registered. And especially not when Neil picked up the long-tested move of twirling you repeatedly, making your head spin and laughter spill from your lips, unbidden in its simplicity. You tried not to let your thoughts linger on the rightness of the feeling. Or on how you could not think of any other place you would rather be.
The final fanfares of the timeless tune found you both grinning like idiots, just barely managing to sync your moves to the music. But once the last notes rung out, you let go of Neil to drop into a courtesy and offered him a cheeky smile. Before you could think about stepping off the dancefloor, he snatched your hand in a loose hold and smirked:
“I did say songs. Plural” the smugness looked way too good on his face.
So good that you could not find it in you to put up a fight, apart from a weak glare:
“Really?” your subconscious perked up upon the first sounds of the next song.
That, too, sounded familiar.
‘Wise men say
Only fools rush in
But I can't help falling in love with you’
When you registered Elvis’ rich croons, an eyeroll was inevitable. On the edge of your perception, you could see a few other people tentatively step onto the parquet, swaying in pairs with all the hesitancy of people fearing critique. And, in any other scenario, perhaps you would have been the critic. But not like this.
“Certainly, darling,” Neil seemed utterly unfazed as he squeezed your hand and took a step back, dragging you with him “Come on”
And who were you to argue with that?
Much like that night on the Leicester Square station platform, it was not tricky at all to fall into the correct, gentle rhythm. The weight of his palm pressed against your waist was as close to a comforting touch as you could imagine as you smoothed the wrinkles in his black button-down over the shoulder. You allowed him to lead you, carefully dodging other couples. It seemed Tenet crowd preferred Elvis to Glen Miller. You did your best not to take offence at that.
It was not a challenge either to keep your eyes on Neil’s face. In fact, the moment you looked up, you could not find any reasons to let your gaze stray again. Because it was there, in the blue of his eyes, that you found affection and something almost resembling peace. As though Neil did not want to do anything but dance with you. As though it was his haven, too. And although you knew you were not supposed to have thoughts like this or feel this level of comfort with someone who could be gone from your life within days, you also knew that it was much too late to do anything about it. That ship has sailed. You were utterly screwed.
No thanks to Elvis, either.
This time, as the ballad finished, you did not try leaving Neil’s side. You have learned your lesson in that department. Plus, that glimmer in his eyes was still there. Enticing you to stay and discover what more he had planned. And you did not have to wait long. The last piano chords were quickly replaced by a groovy rhythm. Inadvertently, your brows scrunched up as you concentrated on the music. Before your brain could identify the song, Neil reached out to smooth the crease between your eyebrows, cutting all thought processes. Your quiet gasp breached the silence between you as you opened your mouth to say something.
But you never got that far before the vocals kicked in, answering the most pressing question:
‘I see ya blowin' me a kiss
It doesn't take a scientist
To understand what's going on baby’
Your eyes widened as you took in his choice. The late ‘90s staple was not something you had expected to hear. Yet, still, your body already knew what to do. Loosening the formal ballroom position, you slid your hands up Neil’s chest to tangle them loosely around his neck, fingers playing with the hair on the nape. You did not need to ask him to put his hands around your waist and pull you closer. Close enough, you were still able to dance, but not without feeling the heat of his body. Close enough that you could not help but wonder whether this choice meant something more.
It took you a longer moment to collect your thoughts and ask a question:
“Why?” anything beyond that one word was too difficult to voice.
But, as always, it was enough. Neil knew exactly what you meant. You could feel his thumb stroking your back through the dress. You tried not to shiver once your brain had latched onto the sensation, tuning out everything else.
“Dunno. It just seemed fitting” seemingly unaware of your thoughts, Neil only shrugged.
The picture of innocence would have probably worked on anyone else. But you knew him too well to let that answer be the end of it.
“How so?” your attempted nonchalance probably got lost somewhere between your neutral tone and the eagerness in your eyes.
It was just that you wanted to know. Wanted to hear it from Neil, despite already suspecting what you were about to hear. And Jennifer Paige’s breathy voice over the speakers did not help to dismiss the allegations.
You watched him intently as Neil paused, gathering his thoughts. When he did look back to meet your gaze, you were surprised to see no hesitance in his eyes and a soft smile on his face. Utterly unapologetic towards what he was about to disclose.
“Because I’ve got a crush on you,” when Neil delivered those memorable words, you could do nothing but gasp quietly, unprepared to hear what you had pretty much deduced on your own.
Because as much as that made sense, as much as you knew it already, still, it was something else entirely to have Neil say it so openly. And not in the height of an orgasm, but rather on a crowded dancefloor, filled with his friends. It seemed a far cry from the shy man you had met months before. Almost as though John did have a point. Impossible as that seemed.
And although you briefly wanted to give him more, to let that softness shine that you only sometimes let him see, this was not the right moment. Not with the curious eyes boring holes into your back throughout the night. Not with the stifling weight of your thoughts that you did not want to contend with this early. So, instead, you just smirked, opting to fall back onto the cheekiness of your banter:
“That’s hardly anything new,” grinning, you hoped at least the affection in your eyes would reassure Neil that you did not mind his admission.
Quite the opposite, in fact.
His gentle hold, a thumb tenderly brushing the back of your hand, told you he received the message. The second layer of your conversation worked just as well as the words did.
“And here I thought I was hiding it well,” unashamed to the t, Neil only offered you a blinding grin and led you into a dizzying set of twirls.
Whether that was another diversion tactic was yet to be determined.
‘It's just some little thing (crush)
Not like everything I do depends on you’
And by God, you tried not to take those lyrics to heart. But it was getting harder to do so, especially in the face of Neil’s earnestness, shining so beautifully. So, as you completed the set of turns and fell back into the safety of his arms, no longer even willing to pretend that this was not precisely what you wanted, you met his blue eyes and offered the only truth you could give him:
“You weren’t, but neither was I” you watched as the surprise painted itself across his face, highlighting the features you have come to adore. Mindless of the audience, you detached your hands from their place on the nape of his neck and gently ran your finger over his face, tracing invisible lines down the slope of his nose and the lethal sharpness of his jaw “Gorgeous,” the comment was as much for him to hear as it was for you to admit aloud.
And, as Neil smiled in that beautifully bashful way, you were glad you had found the needed courage to speak it into existence.
***
The bliss of those moments spent on the dancefloor lasted for at least an hour and a half. You had spent most of this time either making a spectacle of yourself on the parquet or talking with Neil and his trio of muppets (a collective nickname disclosed less than an hour ago but fitting). You did not particularly like to dwell on the fact that you had been fully embraced by the three of them. Or on the fact that you almost felt cared for in ways that were rarely attainable by someone like you. Someone who never stayed too long. Or was asked to.
But, like most things during a work Christmas party, it all unravelled at approximately seven minutes past midnight and to the fading sounds of Texas ‘Summer Son’. Because of course it did. Having been asked by Ives for a dance, you happily allowed the man to twirl you all around the circumference of the dancefloor, while shouting the lyrics with too much passion for it to look normal. It was only when the song was fading into the next, whiplash-enduring tune that sounded suspiciously like the opening notes of ‘Puppy Love’, that you allowed your heart to slow to a more comfortable rhythm and glanced in the direction of Neil. He was still seated in the booth you had been occupying since the beginning of the evening. But he was no longer alone.
That same heart stuttered in your throat as you took in the picture – a beautiful young woman had deftly slid into the seat next to Neil and was now happily giggling away at whatever he had said. With her chin propped on her hand and her doe eyes trained on him, she certainly looked relatable. And judging by how Neil was leaning in her direction, none of this was particularly unwelcome. A bitter aftertaste lingered on your tongue as you quickly assessed your options. One, the most desired of all, was to just casually walk out of the party, taking your leave as you perhaps should, considering that you were not really needed anymore. But there was a catch. One, tragic, infuriating catch to the easy escape you had hoped to make. Namely, that all your belongings were still safely stowed in the clutch you had left by Neil’s side. For safekeeping. Allegedly.
A curse lodged itself in your throat as you slowly made peace with the reality. There was no way out of this without a humiliating walk back to the booth. Back to whatever it was burning through your chest and coating your tongue in a bitter film. And then there was always this cruel bitch of a curiosity that simply wanted to understand. To see it all unfold, like a car crash one cannot look away from.
With a sigh, you squared your shoulders in a similar manner you had often done before stepping onto the stage and quickly breached the space separating you from the booth. Averting gaze lest you were about to see something you should not, you casually slid back to your side of the table and, not so casually, met Neil’s look with a too-bright smile. On their own accord, your eyes drifted to his companion, taking in her pretty smile and sparkling eyes. She looked entirely harmless. Completely like someone you had no reason to dislike.
And you didn’t. Not all. Not in the slightest.
You got as far as placing your clutch in your lap to take out the phone and perhaps open the Uber app, before Neil’s voice broke through your increasingly chaotic thoughts:
“Cupid, this is Sophie,” joyfully, he forced you to focus on the one person you would rather ignore and glanced at her before adding the second part of the introduction, “Soph, this is my friend, Cupid”
Supposedly, a “friend” was a more appropriate label for the occasion than calling you what you were – a friend whom he was shagging. Or, more elegantly, an fwb.
It did not look like Sophie caught on to what Neil did not say as she directed her blinding smile towards you and extended her hand across the table:
“It’s nice to meet you” her damned green eyes sparkled as the woman (too) happily grasped your reluctant palm and shook it heartily.
“Ditto,” your attempt to muster even a quarter of her enthusiasm failed as you forced a pleasant smile and quickly let go of her hand.
Luckily, she did not seem to notice that, either. An uncomfortable layer of silence descended upon the three of you, coating the scene with awkwardness that had you grabbing your phone like a shield. But before you could go as far as actually investing the costs and possibilities of ordering an Uber to the Isle of Dogs, Neil yet again dragged your attention back to himself.
“How are you rating Ives’ dancing skills?” casually leaning forward, he adjusted the rolled-up sleeves over his forearms and measured you with his familiar blue gaze.
For a second, you bemoaned the fact that it was impossible to phase him out completely. But as it was, you had no choice but to play it cool. To ignore the likelihood of what you predicted happening at the beginning of this night, coming true. Because, despite your conflicted feelings and knowing that you were in no position to be upset about it, the idea of being replaced as Neil’s companion for the evening did sting in ways you never expected it to.
Except that your feelings on the topic hardly mattered. Nor should they. You felt Sophie’s curious gaze as you swallowed past the multitude of thoughts and feelings and replied:
“Well… he didn’t step on my toes, so that’s always a good sign. He’s managing. Maybe not as brilliantly as you, but that would be difficult to do” admittedly, the overt compliment was not necessary.
Nor did you have to admit that you had danced with Neil before, just in case Sophie had missed it. But you could have. And so, you did.
You did not dare glance at the woman to see her reaction. After all, what she did or did not think about you or your relationship with Neil hardly mattered. Right?
“Why, thank you, sunshine” Neil’s easy grin for once did not feel too much like a benediction, and more akin to a curse you could not be rid of.
Even if you tried your damnedest to shake it off. Perhaps if it were any easier, you would have bid him goodnight a long time ago.
“I need to ask you for a dance then, next time,” Sophie’s flirty line cut through the what-ifs with a necessary force.
Stifling another curse, you quickly unlocked your phone once again and opened the Uber app before you could hear Neil’s response. You did not want to know what it would be.
But, unfortunately, the desire to stay in the dark did not coincide with your sudden inability to hear a conversation taking place over a small table. With such luck, you heard every word spoken.
“Why not tonight?” Neil’s simple question, or the fact that he asked with a casual amount of interest, did not quell the unease in your stomach.
A symptom you were keen to blame on the unseemly mix of alcoholic drinks you had consumed during the past few hours. Because what else could it have been?
“We could, but I was thinking about leaving soon. I’m a bit tired” Sophie’s conversational response made you glue your eyes to the phone screen, already predicting what she was about to say next “Unless…”
At the strategic pause, you rolled your eyes, feeling a bitter smile appear on your face. It was a perfect set-up, one that Neil was sure to walk right into.
“What’s up?” bingo.
It was a trick you had tried before and succeeded. One that worked more often than it did not. And you could hardly blame the girl for trying. Urgently studying the dynamic prices, you refused to look up even for a moment. It was much simpler like that. You would hear Neil take up the proposition that was surely following, bid them goodnight and go your way. Possibly for good, not to complicate things further. Pretty straightforward, right?
“Would you like to go back to mine? We could have another drink, talk some more…” her voice dropped to a familiarly flirty timbre, and if you dared to look up, you know you would have seen her caress Neil’s arm.
Or his back. Or his thigh. You did not wish to know. Your finger hovered over the button ordering the ride to your flat as you willed your brain to stop registering sounds, just for a moment.
“I… I think I’ll pass this time” the moment Neil’s response came, it was the last thing you expected to hear. Your eyes widened as your phone clattered to the floor, forgotten. You whipped your head up as the sound of the falling object made both Neil and Sophie flinch. He only glanced at you before adding, “I’m a little bit tired myself” the remorseful tint to his tone was easily overlooked as you studied his face for a moment too long.
Long enough to notice that it lacked any true sorrow. Only after a beat too long, you remembered your phone and glanced away, folding yourself under the table to retrieve it. The stickiness of the floor did nothing to lure your brain away from hearing Sophie’s response.
“Maybe another time, then” her dejection was almost palpable as she sighed quietly and stood up from the table, clearly eager to get away. You avoided her gaze as you slid back into the seat “Goodnight, Neil,” the other woman glanced at you again and offered a parting nod, which you could only mirror “Cupid,” she turned away without waiting for your response and quickly headed towards the exit.
The space she left behind almost felt like a gaping silence, except for the loud music and numerous people still scattered around you. A strange sense of relief rose in your chest as you met Neil’s waiting gaze and gave his face a once-over. It was still devoid of sorrow or regret. Instead, he seemed to be deeply contemplating something which you wished to know and would rather never learn. His blue eyes stared right into your soul as if able to see the conflicted feelings you had been battling for the past ten minutes. It was a terrifying thought.
One you needed gone this instant. With no empty words at a ready, you chose to say the only thing on your mind:
“You could’ve gone with her, you know” it was the universal fact of the universe as you understood it.
It was also something you needed Neil to explain. He had every right to leave with her. And so then why didn’t he? That part made no sense. You needed it to make sense.
Neil measured you with another one of his all-seeing looks and shrugged. But the puzzlement must have stayed glued to your face because he quickly followed the gesture with an answer:
“I could’ve, but I didn’t want to” a corner of his mouth quirked up into a half-smile as if it was really this easy. You did not want to name the lightness suddenly spreading inside your chest, too akin to relief to be safely labelled. But before you had to find another way of distracting yourself from it, Neil extended his hand over the table, palm up, and asked “One more dance and we get out of here? What say you?” the familiar glimmer in his eyes reflected the dispersed light making it seem like an ember of fire had been caught within the blue of his irises.
Too used to feeling the burn, you looked away and offered a joke:
“You trying to be Aragorn, or something?” it was also a way of diverting your attention from the question you were itching to ask.
Namely, whether you were to expect a continuation of this night at yours or his place. Whether you were any different from Sophie in this regard. At the same time, a large part of you also did not want to know. The prospect alone threatened to freeze the warmth spreading over your heart and lungs.
“Maybe,” Neil only grinned, the previous pensiveness seemingly gone for good. He wiggled his fingers, still patiently resting over the tabletop, awaiting your move “So?”
Your gaze dropped to his hand, so open and ready for you to accept it the way you had always done. You glanced up again, suddenly needing to see the look in his eyes. To know whether he meant it.
To know what would be happening next. But there was nothing there to see in his beautiful face but an easy smile and glimmering curiosity. You took a deep breath and covered his hand with yours, palm to palm.
“Fine. Let’s do it,” it was the only choice you really had.
Neil’s answering grin was more than a reward for your leap of faith.
***
If someone asked you to describe how exactly you got from the Tenet party to sharing an Uber with Neil to somehow being sprawled across your couch next to him with a glass of wine in your hand, you would not know what to tell them. Admittedly, alcohol might have had an influence on that decision process at some stage. As did Neil’s blue eyes. And who could’ve blamed you, really?
You were quite sure it was him who suggested it, solving your internal dilemma whether you were to follow Sophie’s fate. And if the relief you felt in that moment clouded your judgment, then you were never the one to admit it. It did not matter anyway.
What did was the taste of tannins on your tongue and the lazy circles Neil was drawing over the bare skin of your shin now that you had taken off the tights and allowed yourself the luxury of putting up your feet in his lap. He did not seem to mind. Some repeats of the past season of ‘Love Island’ were playing on the TV in the background as you allowed the stupidity of that show and the buzz of alcohol to settle your brain.
It was already way too late in the night for reason, anyway.
You did not know how you got from watching these empty-headed hunks and polished up girlies amping up the drama with their antics to discussing what was unfolding on screen with Neil, but you were grateful nonetheless. It was at some point during your winded tirade about the selfishness of some tattooed idiot on the show, aptly named Kyle, that the vibe shifted yet again. It was not a moment you could pinpoint, exactly. But it was that heady combination of Neil’s touch, gratitude for the kind of man (and lover) he was, and desire for him that was never too far from the surface, that made you finish the complaint over the egoism of his sex with a praise only meant for him:
“Luckily for me, you’re the least selfish man I know” reaching out to pat his knee briefly, you flashed him a slightly manic grin and leaned back into the cushions.
But your brain did not stop there. It was already miles ahead, breathing life into thoughts that had been lying dormant till that moment. And sparking heat in your veins, getting warmer with each stroke of his fingers on your skin.
“Well, I-” whatever Neil intended to say hardly mattered to your lust and alcohol-muddled mind.
Because once an idea had taken root, there was no getting rid of it. Neil should have been more selfish at times. You wished he were. Especially where you were concerned. And now, this late, after so much had happened tonight, you were unable to keep yourself from expressing that thought.
“In fact, sometimes I wish you were a bit less… selfless” you turned your head to look at him, while your hand reached out to mute the TV, somehow already aware that you would rather have this conversation without a distraction.
Neil only blinked at your wolfish smile and stared blankly:
“What do you mean?” confusion knitted his brows adorably as he tried to read your meaning from your face.
Later, you wondered whether it was just the alcohol that was responsible for your daring and lightning-quick reflexes when you took less than ten seconds to put down your glass and straddle Neil’s lap instead of answering. But perhaps it was just him. With his confused gaze and parted mouth that let out a sharp gasp as soon as you settled on his thighs. Even with the element of surprise, Neil needed no time to steady you with his hands that instantly landed on your hips. You could not help but smile as you measured him with another heated look and crashed your mouth into his like you had been longing to for most of the evening. Neil met your pace as his lips parted on a quiet moan, inviting your tongue inside.
At some point, your hands found their way from his shoulders into his hair, messing up the golden strands between your fingertips. As you pulled lightly, Neil scraped his teeth over your bottom lip, eliciting a sharp gasp on your part. It seemed to have spurred him on, for the very next thing he did was to lick over the bruised lip while somehow pulling you closer. In effect, you felt his undeniable hardness brush against you. Smiling against his lips, you made sure your hips bumped into his again, lightly rolling your pelvis to increase the impact. That only played into your hands perfectly.
You repeated the move a couple of times, while still kissing Neil senseless. Only when you began to crave oxygen desperately, you leaned back after a chaste peck and opened your eyes just in time to see Neil’s wrecked countenance. He blinked his eyes open after a few seconds of delay. His hair was mussed beyond saving, and his lips were bruised red from your kisses. He panted in exertion as he leaned against the cushions of your sofa and met your gaze with another confused look. You were eager to follow the demonstration with an explanation, this time.
“What I meant is that each time you eat me out like it’s nobody’s business. You also finger me like your life depends on it, and I love it, but-” the words tumbled out through your mouth, encouraged by the lust-addled mind and the lack of a filter wiped off by the wine.
And you would have kept going, getting to the point of it all, if it were not for Neil interrupting your tirade:
“You know that I love doing it. It practically gets me off just as good as having sex with you does” the sweetest innocence shone in his eyes as Neil eagerly attempted to defend himself against something he clearly did not yet understand.
You could only smile as Neil caressed your cheek, as if trying to quell your doubts without even comprehending their source. You covered his hand with yours and quickly amended the statement to ensure no miscommunication could occur:
“I know. But sometimes I’d just like to… return the favour, so to speak” a glance down to drive your point forward served its purpose as Neil blushed at the implication.
It was astounding how he could still be so sheepish around you despite having literally been inside you more than a handful of times. It was not a stretch to admit you were entranced by that fact.
Especially in this instance, for as soon as Neil understood and processed what you were suggesting, his blush turned crimson, and he was quick to jump with reassurance:
“You don’t have to-” only that was what you expected him to say.
And it was entirely unnecessary. Your smile sharpened as you mirrored his touch by swiping your thumb over Neil’s cheekbone and replied:
“I want to,” you batted your eyelashes to strengthen the intended effect and asked, “So, may I?”
There was no way of explaining why it suddenly felt so vital that you made Neil feel good, without dipping into an utterly unhinged territory. You only knew that it was something you had to do. Now, if possible. As soon as you got that non-negotiable consent, or even just a nod. And, as you met his gaze without daring to blink, you knew Neil was only a second away from giving it to you. Desire battled with the remaining sense of selflessness as he shifted underneath you, clearly uncomfortably hard.
Thankfully, it was just the thing you could help him with.
Finally, Neil swallowed hard and nodded sharply, delivering the final blessing with the reluctance of someone who has convinced themselves they did not deserve what they were about to be given:
“…Yes,” leaning forward, he pressed his forehead against yours and closed his eyes, seeking closeness you were eager to give him.
At least for a moment. After a beat, you pressed a lingering kiss to the crease between his eyebrows and, as gracefully as it was possible given your slightly inebriated state, slid onto your knees on the floor:
“Great. You can do whatever you want. I trust you,” flashing Neil what you hoped was an encouraging, and not manic, grin, you smoothly undid his belt buckle and pulled down the zipper on his jeans.
He only needed another moment to catch up with reality before helping with your task and shimmying his jeans down a bit so they would not be in the way. Presented with the sight of his black boxers, barely hiding what you already anticipated, you thoroughly licked your lips and braced your arms on his knees to gain the perfect angle. As your hands touched his underwear, Neil hissed and leaned back, resting his head on the cushions. Perfectly relaxed as a man could be when utterly possessed by desire. You were not particularly eager to extend his suffering. This time.
Without another second wasted, you lightly massaged him over the boxers before taking his length in hand and taking him out of his underwear. On the periphery of your vision, you could see Neil’s hands tighten over the sofa cushions, almost in sync with your hands stroking his length. Leisurely at first. But soon, after noticing the pearls of sweat on his temples, you decided to cut to the chase. So to speak.
Leaning forward, your tongue darted out to circle his head, eliciting an instant moan. Gratification lit up the fuse in your brain as you flattened your tongue and began licking up and down his shaft, letting his vocal cues choose the paths and the intensity of your actions. After a moment, when the silence of the room had long been replaced with Neil’s moans and gasps, he lifted his hand to tangle it in your hair. Almost too carefully, his thumb swiped over your warm cheek and caressed the blushing skin. It was all the assurance you needed to know you were doing a decent job of it.
Naturally.
It was also the time to take it one step further. To do what you had been itching to do for months. You glanced at Neil for a split second, taking in his hazed gaze and panting mouth. He looked just as ruined as you wanted him to be. All thanks to you. The reminder alone made you clench your thighs together as the heat in your core started to simmer. The wet patch on your underwear was a given, too, and you felt it stick to your skin as you took one fortifying breath and bowed your head over his length, taking as much of it as you could into your mouth.
A broken moan rang out in the room as Neil instinctively tightened his hold over your hair and breathed out, as though trying against all reason to keep himself from coming just yet. Except that was not necessary at all, from where you were standing. And you had to let him know. Your head bobbed as you repeated the motion, stroking his shaft with your hand and sucking on him with renewed vigour. All to elicit more fascinating sounds and taste him on your tongue. You already knew that this particular tinge of salt and sweat would be one of your favourites. If that were a normal thought to have.
After a short while, you could tell Neil was rapidly losing the battle. The knuckles of his hand that was still clinging to the sofa were white, and you knew that it was only due to his self-composure that all you could feel was a light pressure on your scalp from where his other hand was fisted in your hair. He never yanked at your hair, never pushed, even though you permitted him to. And that, on its own, was another reason why you felt the gusset on your panties somehow get even wetter.
Or maybe it was just Neil.
Your steady focus, driven by the singular need to make Neil come so hard that you would make a lasting impression, was only interrupted when he urgently tapped your cheek and rasped out a simple warning:
“Fuck, I’m going to-” Neil never quite managed to say what he intended as you flattened your tongue over his head and tasted the first drops of what was coming.
A shudder travelled through his body as he moaned loudly. You briefly wished you could record the sound and play it again later. Especially during those moments alone when memory could not fully get you off. When you needed something more, and Neil was not there to help.
But there were other pressing matters to attend to. You raised your head, while your hand continued its bold strokes, and met his heated gaze with a devilish smirk:
“Good. You should” it really was that simple.
Because Neil holding back or him taking it away from you was an unfathomable thought. You moved your head to put your mouth back on the task, but before you could do as much, he cupped your cheek and tried to interrupt again:
“But-” squeezing his eyes shut, Neil seemed unable to put together the words, finally resorting to a simple plea you could not ignore, “Cupid”
You knew what he was asking. What he needed to be told. And what seemed to be that final line of resistance that kept him from coming.
Using your unoccupied hand to tap his knee, you waited until he blinked his eyes open again to offer a simple assurance:
“I want you to,” and by God, you did.
Desperately so.
It seemed to have been what Neil needed to hear because the moment you put your mouth back on him and swiped your tongue down his length, his whole body tensed like a string. His hand tightened around the strands of your hair, lightly tugging at your scalp as he came with a moan and your name on his tongue. A wave of exhilaration washed over you as you greedily swallowed each drop. He tasted just as good as you knew he would.
It was only once Neil finished and his body seemed to relax a fraction, utterly spent and sated, that he opened his eyes again and met your waiting gaze. You could not help but put on a performance as you licked your lips clean, savouring every last taste of him on your tongue. It was even more fascinating to see Neil’s eyes darken at the sight. But before you could do anything about that observation, you had questions to ask:
“So? What’s the verdict?” resting your cheek on his knee, you batted your eyelashes and smiled angelically.
As though your brain was not full of other debauched daydreams. Neil slumped against the cushions and breathed heavily, his hand still gently resting against your cheek. After a beat, he answered:
“Good God, Cupid,” another groan acted as punctuation as he chuckled and brushed his thumb over your parted mouth. You did not waste the opportunity to dart out your tongue and press it against the pad of his finger. That only made Neil’s eyes darken further “You’re incredible,” sighing out the praise, he picked up your hand still clinging to his thigh and pulled it.
You did not need further instruction to get up from the floor and perch on his lap. You did try not to pout as Neil tucked himself back in his boxers and swiftly arranged you so that you were back where you had started – straddling his lap, a breath away from his inviting mouth. You eyed it for a moment, barely able to resist, before you flicked your gaze up to meet his again and grinned:
“Fab. I hope I’ll be allowed to repeat the performance,” you also hoped Neil knew how much you meant it.
You were pleased to see that he, too, was waging a battle, trying to focus on anything but your lips. When he finally managed to refocus his gaze, his blue eyes were darker than ever.
“You will. But now I need to return the favour” the resolution in his voice was something you knew you had no chance arguing with.
It was a done thing, really. Not that you were planning to resist what you knew Neil was hinting at. How could you resist that?
But before you could allow yourself to give in and let him smoothly proceed onto what would undoubtedly end with you writhing in pleasure (as always), you could not deny yourself a tease:
“Need to?” leaning closer, you flattened your palm against his chest, right where his shirt buttons were undone, and you could touch his bare skin.
Deeming it close enough when the tip of your nose brushed against his, you offered him a small smile. Knowing he would understand what you were getting at. What you needed from him.
Neil perfectly mirrored your smile as he covered your hand with his and glanced at your lips again. You could feel the tension between you slowly simmer, about to reach the boiling point anew. Forcing yourself to stay still instead of addressing the increasingly distracting ache between your thighs, you allowed your unoccupied hand to dive into his ruffled hair. That move alone had Neil swallow hard and visibly pause, as if needing another moment to regain coherence. Once he could speak, he replied:
“Want to,” amending the previous statement to your gleeful giggle, Neil paused to feign thoughtfulness before adding, “Have to,” which seemed to be the final version of the sentiment.
One that you could not help but fully agree with. Without another word, you nodded, signalling your approval and pulled Neil in for another kiss.
For a long while afterwards, every other thought or concern was deemed insignificant. As always.
