Sticky Fingers & Sweet Mouths
🧁 Pairing: Xavier Legette x Black Female OC (Jalaya “Lay” Monroe)
📍Setting: Small-town South Carolina | Late-night Bakery Office
📝 Summary: When Xavier strolls back into town — and into Jalaya’s closed bakery like he never broke her heart — she’s ready to remind him that sugar ain’t free. But he’s not here for just cobbler. He wants the second chance he never asked for… and he’s willing to earn it with his mouth, his hands, and every slow stroke she’s owed.
🚨 Warnings: Ex-lovers / Second chance tension | Oral sex (f. receiving and giving) | Desk/office sex | Xavier with his mouth all up in it | Emotional aftercare with smut still fresh in the air
The bakery was too damn quiet this late. Just the slow whir of the old fan overhead and the occasional creak from the pipes. Jalaya stood barefoot on the cool tile, elbow-deep in flour, peach syrup sticky on her wrist, and her nerves frayed thinner than the thread holding up her sleep shorts. The overhead light was dim, buzzing like it had a complaint, casting gold shadows over the countertops. She had one cobbler left to finish and no patience left to give it.
Sweat rolled slow down the valley of her back. Her tank top clung to her chest in the heat — not that she cared. Wasn’t nobody in here but her and the ghosts of everything she’d baked today. Her curls were piled high under a scarf, and her thighs ached from being on her feet since dawn, but the smell of cinnamon and vanilla kept her rooted. She grabbed the pan with one mitt, slid it out the oven with a low grunt, and set it gently on the cooling rack.
The smell punched her in the face — hot peaches, caramelized sugar, a hint of nutmeg — and it pulled a soft sound from her chest. This was the part she lived for. The stillness, the sweetness, the quiet right before the sun came up and the world came knocking. She didn’t even realize she was humming until—
The bell above the front door jingled.
Her whole body snapped tight.
She wiped her hands on a towel, narrowed her eyes toward the entrance of the kitchen, and called out without moving, “We closed, baby. Whatever you need can wait ‘til mornin’.”
No answer. Just the soft click of the door falling shut again.
She frowned, wiped her palms again, and stepped around the island. “I said we closed.”
Then she saw him.
Xavier Legette.
Leaning against the doorframe like he’d never left this town, like the last ten years hadn’t sat between them heavy and hollow. Same wide shoulders, same chain with that little gold cross resting against a white tee, same lips curved into that slow, easy smile that used to get her out of her drawers faster than she’d ever admit.
He was bigger now. Built like the league had been feeding him steak and revenge. His flannel sleeves were rolled up, arms looking too damn good, and his eyes locked on her like he could smell the sugar on her skin from across the room.
“Damn,” he said, voice a whole octave lower than it used to be. “Still smell like heaven in here.”
Lay blinked once, then again, like maybe heat stroke had finally kicked in. “You serious right now?”
His grin widened just a little. “What, a man can’t stop in for a late-night sweet?”
She folded her arms, towel still balled in one fist, and leaned against the counter. “You still talk smooth as ever. But you know good and well this shop don’t do no damn midnight menu.”
He walked forward, slow, measured steps, like he knew he shouldn’t get too close too fast. “Ain’t here for the menu.”
That silence dropped between them like a brick. Her heart kicked against her ribs, traitorous and loud.
“Last I checked,” she said, keeping her voice steady, “you had no reason to be here at all. So what’s this, Xavier? Nostalgia hit while you were scrollin’ through my page?”
“Nah.” His eyes never left her face. “I been thinkin’ ‘bout you for years. Came back home, heard you had your own place now. Figured it was time.”
“Time for what?”
“To stop frontin’.”
Lay tilted her head, teeth sinking into the inside of her cheek. “You ghosted me.”
“I was a kid tryna make it out,” he said, stepping closer. “Didn’t know how to keep you and chase what I wanted. So I left. And I regret that shit every day.”
Her throat tightened. She didn’t say anything. Just stared at him, trying to decide if this was real or a dream soaked in sugar and spite.
He nodded once, like he could feel the way her walls had gone up. “You ain’t gotta forgive me. I just needed to see you.”
She hated how close he was now. Hated how good he smelled. Like sweat, cologne, and a hint of something woody. Her body remembered him even if her pride didn’t want to.
“You really miss me?” she asked, voice low.
He didn’t blink. “More than I miss breathin’ easy.”
She didn’t plan to walk toward him. But her feet moved anyway. Just a few steps. Until she could see that his eyes weren’t playin’. Until his fingers brushed hers.
“Fuck,” she whispered. “You look good, Xavier.”
He smiled, slow and cocky. “You look like temptation in a tank top.”
She snorted, shoved him lightly in the chest. “Shut up.”
He caught her wrist before she could pull away. Not rough, just firm. Thumb brushing her pulse. “You still mad?”
“I ain’t mad,” she lied.
“You still want me?”
Her lips parted, but nothing came out. So she turned instead, walked toward the back hallway without answering.
He didn’t ask questions. Just followed.
Through the kitchen, past the stacked trays and cooling racks, until she reached the door with the frosted glass that said “Office.” She pushed it open, the room small, dim, and quiet. She stepped inside. Turned. Watched him enter and close the door behind him.
He looked around, then back at her. “This where the magic happens?”
She nodded. “This where the deals go down.”
He stepped closer, voice rough now. “Then let’s make one.”
She didn’t move when he cupped her face with one hand. Didn’t stop him when his thumb grazed her bottom lip. That kiss came slow — real slow — like he was askin’ a question and answerin’ it all at once. Her knees damn near buckled from the weight of it.
His other hand found her waist, pulled her flush against him, and her breath caught when she felt that thick print of his dick pressed hard to her belly.
“You still taste the same,” he muttered against her lips.
“You barely tasted shit yet,” she whispered back,
And then it was on.
The heat between them didn’t spike — it rose, lazy and thick like molasses, like the air was tryna hold onto every drop of tension just to see who’d give in first. Xavier pulled her in closer, lips never straying far from hers, eyes dropping down to the shine on her collarbone. She was already breathing hard, and he hadn’t even touched her proper yet.
Lay’s fingers skimmed his waist, pulled his flannel free of his sweats, and pushed it up over his abs, slow. He raised his arms and let her peel him out of it. Her eyes swept over his chest like she was tryna memorize it. More ink now. More size. But still him. Still hers, somewhere under all that time.
“Still fine as hell,” she muttered, more to herself.
He chuckled low, hands sliding down her waist, gripping the backs of her thighs. “Come here, Lay.”
She didn’t resist when he lifted her, settled her on the edge of the desk. His hands stayed on her skin, thumbs rubbing slow circles into the softness above her knees, head lowered so he could mouth at her neck.
Every kiss felt like a promise.
When he dropped to his knees, she blinked like she didn’t quite believe it.
“You really—?”
“I been waitin’ on this,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the inside of her thigh. “Since high school. Since you wore that little sundress and I almost lost my mind watchin’ you walk away.”
His breath was hot. His tongue was hotter.
She gasped when he licked her over the fabric of her panties, then again when he pulled them aside and finally got mouth-to-pussy like he meant to live there.
“Goddamn,” he groaned against her. “I knew it was still sweet.”
She fell back onto her elbows, thighs twitching as he buried his face between her legs and devoured her. There wasn’t nothin’ delicate about it. Just slow, deep licks, one hand wrapped tight around her thigh while the other anchored her against his mouth.
Lay’s fingers clawed at the desk edge, hips buckin’, her scarf damn near slipping off her head from the way she kept tossin’ it back.
“Xavier—fuuuuck—wait—” she panted, but he didn’t stop.
Didn’t even pause.
“Mmm?” he hummed, tongue sliding slow over her clit, making her curse so soft and needy it barely had weight.
“I can’t—shit—you tryna kill me in here?”
He pulled back just enough to look up at her, chin shiny, breath hot.
Then he dove back in, mouth messier this time, licking her open like he owned her, like she was dinner and dessert and every midnight craving he never got to have.
She came with a sharp cry, hips jerking, thighs clenched around his head.
But he didn’t move.
He held her in place and kept going, licking her through it, moaning into her like he needed her to feel all of it.
When he finally pulled back, she was damn near boneless, one leg still thrown over his shoulder, her chest rising in sharp, shallow pulls.
“You gon’ let me return the favor now?” she asked, voice hoarse, eyes hazy.
He leaned in, kissed her thigh. “I ain’t stoppin’ you.”
She grinned, pushed herself up, and slid off the desk onto her knees, hands already tugging his sweats down.
His dick sprang free, thick and heavy, already leaking for her.
She wrapped her hand around it, slow. Gave him one long, dirty stroke, then another, tongue slipping out to catch the tip like she’d never forgotten how he liked it.
Xavier’s head fell back with a groan.
“Still got that mouth,” he muttered, voice wrecked.
She took him in, slow, sucking him deep enough to make his knees buckle just a little. One hand braced on his thigh, the other twisting at the base, her tongue worked him like she had a point to prove. And she did.
That she still remembered.
That she hadn’t forgotten what he sounded like when he lost control.
She moaned around him, just to feel the way he twitched in her mouth.
“Fuck, Lay… you keep goin’ like that, I ain’t gon’ last long.”
She pulled back just enough to say, “I don’t want you to last. I want you to fuck me.”
Then she stood, turned her back, bent over the desk.
Xavier didn’t say shit.
Just stepped forward, lined himself up, and slid in slow — like he was tryna savor every damn inch of her.
They both groaned, her head dropping forward, his hands gripping her hips like they were the only things keeping him steady.
“Still tight,” he growled, voice thick. “Still mine.”
She pushed back onto him, eyes shut tight. “Then fuckin’ move.”
And he did.
He gripped her hips tighter and pulled her back onto his dick in slow, deliberate strokes like he wanted her to feel every inch pressing deep, every second he’d gone without her buried in the rhythm. The office was quiet except for the wet sound of him sliding in and out, the creak of the old desk under their weight, and her breath — short, ragged, full of heat.
“Shit,” she gasped, knuckles white where she gripped the edge of the desk. “Xavier…”
He leaned over her back, one arm wrapped around her waist, the other braced beside her hand. His chest pressed to her spine, heat licking at her skin. When he spoke, it was right in her ear, voice low, thick with want. “I missed this pussy so fuckin’ bad. Thought about it every night I was gone.”
She tried to keep her head up, but it dropped, cheek pressing against the cool surface of the desk as he rocked into her, deep and slow and mean. Not rough—mean. Like he had somethin’ to say and this was the only language he knew how to speak it in.
“I used to dream about you ridin’ me,” he murmured, dragging his hand up her side, under her tank. “Woke up hard as hell damn near every time. You still dream about me, Lay?”
She turned her face, her eyes finding his, wild and glassy. “I didn’t stop,” she breathed.
That lit something under his skin. He dragged her up, chest to chest, one hand at her throat but not pressing, just there—a gentle claim. She reached back, grabbed his wrist, held it to her skin like she wanted it tighter.
His other hand slid between her legs, fingers rubbing her clit in slow, tight circles while he fucked up into her with deep, grinding thrusts. Every push made her moan louder, her body coiling tighter around him like it was tryna keep him from leavin’ again.
“You feel that?” he grunted against her neck. “That’s me. All the way inside you. Where I belong.”
Her breath stuttered. “Don’t stop. Don’t fuckin’ stop.”
“I ain’t stoppin’ ‘til I fuck the sound of my name back into your throat.”
She clenched around him, and he felt it. Smirked against her shoulder and moved faster, thrusts still smooth but deeper now, filthier. The desk was thudding against the wall, papers fluttering off the shelves, but neither of them gave a damn. All she could feel was him — his voice in her ear, his dick filling her just right, his fingers making her legs tremble.
“I’m close,” she whispered, choking on the words. “Fuck, Xavier—”
“I know,” he rasped, fucking her harder now, chasing it with her. “Let go. I got you, baby. Just let that shit go.”
She shattered with a cry, body shaking around him, hips jerking, thighs clenched. Her pussy gripped him tight, and he groaned, low and rough, his own release barreling through him like a damn freight train.
He didn’t pull out.
Didn’t ask.
Just stayed inside her, holding her against him while they both caught their breath.
Minutes passed. His hand rubbed lazy circles on her hip. She let out a long sigh and laughed, quiet and worn-out.
“That ain’t how you ask for seconds,” she said, voice hoarse.
He kissed her shoulder, slow. “That ain’t how you tell somebody you still love ‘em.”
She blinked.
Turned just enough to look back at him, their bodies still connected, still warm.
“You mean that?” she asked, too soft to pretend it didn’t matter.
His eyes stayed on hers. “Ain’t come back for cobbler, Lay.”
She swallowed, chest tight. “You leavin’ again?”
He shook his head. “Not unless you send me.”
She didn’t say a word.
Just leaned in, kissed him slow — again.
Then smirked. “Well. You might wanna stay a while then. Got a whole fridge of batter to use up.”
His grin matched hers.
And this time, when they moved together, it wasn’t rushed.
It was just the start.
@blyffe @transparentphantomface @mwahkae @championshipshade @christinabae @og-goddesstrill @writingsbytee @jeandoll@bananajoeclone
