Teeth | Hasan Piker X Reader | 18+
SUMMARY ♡ Canine poetry and puppy play. Reader is a successful journalist at a feminist/activism centric firm, set to interview Hasan Piker, whom she heavily dislikes. Reader is extremely work driven, and standoffish to most human interactions.
CW ♡ HatesEveryone! Reader, AntiPiker! reader, angst, internal struggle, mild pet play, heavy smut, sweetheart Hasan, unrequited fluff(?), reader loves music, service dom Hasan, power dynamic switching
WORD COUNT ♡ 11.2k
NOTES ♡ Dedicated to the women who struggle with vulnerability and are written off as just difficult or mean. U are so special to me.
no use of y/n, bc ily <3
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Some days you have nothing to offer but teeth, growling and nipping, warning the greedy hands of self-proclaimed help. You don't need their help, not theirs, not anyone's. You are the pit bull tucked in the back of the shelter that nobody comes to see on purpose. The breed they already decided against before ever showing up. Nonetheless, your appearance changes their mind; a gorgeous girl with shiny coat, and alluring eyes. They can fix you. They all want to take you home, claim you as theirs, train you, change you. They square you in with no escape, you have no other choice, so you bite. Nobody wants the one that bites, nobody wants the woman that barks. The lady who refuses to be caged, muzzled, less than. You won't be less. You won't. They call you a bitch, and well, you are, but you liked it that way. Fuck them and their entitled hands. You are not an object to be claimed. You do not need a savior.
You hold a lit cigarettes between your tinted lips, too entranced in reading the words on your screen to notice the tobacco just burning itself up. Ashes fall atop your black pencil skirt, the small tap against your thigh was nowhere near enough to shake you from the bullshit message you received.
1 New email from your dipshit of a boss Madeline:
Hope this email finds you well,
I'm thrilled to announce we have successfully arranged a one on one interview with the widely renowned leftist, socialist, and most importantly, feminist Hasan Piker! Considering you are the best of our journalists, you will be the sole interviewer at our panel next week.
This is a excellent opportunity for not only the firm, but you personally. A chance to promote our causes whilst also building your experience in the process! While I do apologize for the late notice(he is a very busy man), you never disappoint me, so I'll be expecting nothing less than your typical, extraordinary work.
-Cheers xx, Madeline M.
You pulled a heavy drag from whatever was left of your smoke before delegating it to the glass ashtray on your desk. Cheers my ass. You liked your job, you really did, it was the type of place you envisioned working at as a little girl. Women owned, ran, and published. Sometimes it was a tad bit too kumbaya, girl-power for your taste, but the heart is there nonetheless. You were well respected, paid exceptionally, and they didn't even skimp out on benefits like most jobs. You were definitely not above ignoring the romance quiz slop for paid holidays.
Okay, maybe dipshit was a bit too far, she is nice. An undeserving nepo-baby that had enough money fall into her lap at barely 19 to start a company, but nice. It only made you *kind of* furious, most times you didn't think about it at all. On less deprecating side of things she was a young, successful CEO that actually values employees, so you had to look up to her whether you liked it or not.
Interviewing someone as popular as Mr. Piker should be a dream, but truth be told you couldn't stand him. Granted, you didn't like actually know him, but that was unimportant! You seen enough of his obnoxious clips, and even partook in the occasional hate watching. As far as you're concerned he's self centered, community dick that only cares about feminism when it comes to getting said 'female' in bed.
It didn't take a genius to realize you weren't the biggest fan, even griping about him in the breakroom once prior, it felt like Madeline was hell bent on punishing you at times. Unsure about why exactly that may be, but whatever the reason, this sucks! You immediately found yourself conjuring up a slightly passive aggressive sounding response email. The hollow keycaps clicking methodically under your fresh manicure.
Dear Madeline,
Thank you for the opportunity, I appreciate you trusting me to interview someone so important. However, are we sure we want someone so controversial as this months headliner? I'm not sure the mansplaining, brothel traversing, bachelor is really the face of male feminism.
-With love, your favorite journalist
Okay maybe the whole 'your favorite journalist' thing was a stretch, you quickly replace it with your signature, only so much of your *charm* would be tolerated. You hit send, and surprisingly she doesn't take long to reply, a rarity for such a busy woman.
I figured you might say that, and I do understand your concerns, but our social media managers are saying this would be a good choice. He's been highly sought after by our viewer base, and he does have some good ideas. Not saying you have to love the guy, but just produce some good content. He's supportive of sex work, that's an angle we could use. btw it's only 30 minutes, I believe in you, queen!
- Madeline M.
Fine. Thirty minutes in the same proximity wouldn't kill you, although after talking to him for that long you may be wishing it would. You spent the next week learning more than you could've ever wished to, burning into your brain as much information as possible. You wrote out a lengthy bunch of questions, even pointed, follow up questions for when he'd inevitably say something ignorant.
To be fair, not everything that came out of his mouth was insufferable, he actually had a lot of good politics you found yourself agreeing with. It wasn't like you were blind, you could see the appeal, but that didn't change your dead set mentality that he was still a womanizer that only got this far in his career by the grace of being 6'4 and conventionally attractive.
***
The convention center was packed, all kinds of people divvying themselves to their desired section. There were three stages in total, scheduled out through the entire day with many different seminars, or even a few fun things such as comedy shows. Your group of coworkers were lucky enough to be granted all access passes, being allowed to enjoy all the more entertaining booths and whatnot while you awaited showtime. You always got a bit nervous about interviews, not that you showed it. To others you were sharp, precise, intimidating even. Your words never stuttered or jumbled up, voice smooth and sure, even when you felt nothing of the sort.
Before you knew it you were shaking the notorious Hasan Piker's hand in front of a crowd large enough to make your stomach turn. He was dressed in a navy blue suit, an assortment of silver rings and a watch embellishing his hands. His eyes were soft, gentle, unlike his handshake. His grip was firm, respectful, not one of those pitiful, half-assed ones that businessmen so often gave to women like you.
He smiled, waving to the crowd that roared for him before he ever even spoke. Admittedly, it was impressive, the way he had such a dedicated group of people ready to stand behind his every move. He sat in the clear plastic seat, adjacent to yours, microphone adhered to the collar of his freshly dry cleaned button up top, same as yours. "Nice to finally meet you, Mr. Piker".
"It's nice to meet you too, thank you for having me".
"Thank you for coming. It seems all these people are very thankful as well". You forced a smile, mentally replaying the notes in your head. Sure you had some scribbled down on the paper lying in your lap, but you tried to make it a habit of already knowing what to say. You felt less professional having to take a peak, although at the end of the day there was no shame in it, most people weren't owners of a photographic memory.
As time passed your nerves died down, and the interview began to flow more like a conversation than interrogation. He's good, prepared, quick with his answers and all the right ones too.
"Do you ever find streaming impacts your public opinion more negatively than positively? When researching into a person with such an extensive digital footprint such as yourself, you will often come across things that maybe concerning to many".
He nods while you talk, brows furrowed like he's deep in active listening. You liked that. "I think being someone that livestreams for many hours a day is bound to be caught in controversy, but all of the being clipped out of context and pointless witch-hunts are worth it if it means I'm getting through to people. If there are some are willing to stick around long enough to understand what is actually being said, they might just learn some beneficial information along the way. The internet can be an exhausting place, but I like to think I'm doing decently in educating a wide range of people about things that can change the real world".
He didn't seem bothered, or get defensive by your more accusatory questions, he faced them head on in a manner that read as honest. You were getting through your many inquiries fast, which you always preferred. It was quite frustrating getting so invested into the dialogue only for time to be up with an entire untouched sheet leftover.
"And do you personally find male feminism important?"
"Of course, I think it's important to stand for all equality movements. Especially for myself as a straight, white-passing, cis man. When you see those benefitting from the thing you're fighting against actually stand up for those minority groups it makes the perpetrators think twice about if they're on the right side or not. For some of those who are more stubborn, that's the only way they'll hear the movement out, they need that relatability, unfortunately".
Slightly scripted sounding answer, but fine, you'll allow it...
In the end, it went well! You left feeling proud of yourself for making no mistakes, and even mildly impressed with the interviewee. Nonetheless, your last minute assignment resulted in many late nights, and not enough rest, so you were ready to chill out for the evening. Your boss hugged you, overjoyed, beaming with praises about how the company's social medias were already snowballing with engagement.
The hug wasn't your favorite, but it was a big day for both of you so you accepted it, congratulating her, and your other coworkers for the group accomplishment. You announced you'd be heading out early, being lucky enough to slip out without being pulled into any last minute questioning about your experience with their beloved influencer.
You weren't ready to flag down a cab just yet, figuring you might as well walk a couple buildings down to the little bar you visited on a few occasions. It was a fairly small, family-owned place, but reeled in plenty of business being so close to one of New York's more sizable event centers.
A warm gush of air pushed past you as a man exited through the same door you were entering, holding it open long enough for you to pass. You mumbled your thanks, walking through to the counter. A mellow, soft rock song filled the space, fighting for dominance over the boisterous chatter of socialization. Thankfully, most customers were stationed at the tables meant for multiple people, it was a day full of gossiping friends and celebrating business acquaintances. You on the other hand, were glad to finally have a moment to yourself.
You found a seat at one of the barstools, smoothing your skirt at your hips before planting yourself onto the cracking leather. "Hello ma'am, what can I do ya for today?" The bartender asked, you were pretty certain he was also the owner, he was here every time you came, and seemed to be the backbone of keeping everything in order.
"Just a tall rum and coke would be great". You smiled, rummaging through your disorganized purse, forking out a ten dollar bill and the half-empty, green box of menthol American Spirits. The man left to fulfill your order, as you flicked a cheap lighter you acquired at a local gas station last week, rolling the metal wheel a few times before successfully producing smoke.
"I thought that was you. Hi again".
You exhaled a foggy sigh in response, rolling your eyes before reluctantly turning your head to meet the familiar voice. Of course he would be here, work just never truly lets you go, even when you're finally off. "Can't seem to get you out of my hair, Mr. Piker". Your head rest against your right hand, cigarette still laced between two fingers.
"Only thirty minutes of me, and you're already bored? I think that maybe a new record". He chuckled, casually seating himself beside you as if you were an old friend.
"Much more than a half hour, work has practically held a gun to my head, forcing me to watch countless hours of you yelling at a camera for the past week".
"In that case, I apologize. It can be mind-numbing to hear my own voice after a while. Let me buy you a drink to make it up?"
You laughed to yourself although nothing really funny, just amusing. "Too late... don't you have other important things to attend to, rather than bugging me?"
"No, not really. I'll get your next". He nods to the drink just placed in front of you, folding his elbows in front of him on the countertop.
You couldn't help but find him 'cute'. Not in an attractive or endearing manner, but more so admiring his dedication to portraying himself as sweet and charismatic. Cute in a pathetic way. Trying to paint himself as a gentleman as if he wasn't the type of cretin that reeked of ego and emotional unavailability. You could almost hear the tortured souls of past situationships howling warnings to prevent you from being his next victim.
"I could tell you didn't really like me much from the beginning, but can I ask why?"
"No".
He laughed again, any blow you seemed to throw his way just rolled off his pride like it was nothing. "Well fuck, am I really that bad?"
"I don't intend to find out". You took a long sip from you glass, his next sentence almost being enough to cause you to choke on the chilled liquor.
"Are you a republican or something?"
Now it was your turn to laugh; "What? No, I- listen, I don't know you, I just think you seem like a narcissistic, pretentious, whore of a man, and ultimately *you* aren't even my real problem. I just don't understand why my job, let alone millions of people find you to be some progressive prophet. I think there were far better candidates to speak for our panel".
"I get that a lot actually, but I was never trying to be a prophet, or gain clout with politics, I just liked doing it. Isn't the whole whore thing a bit outdated?"
"God, you're like way to old to be saying clout...I don't think everything that leaves your mouth is utter bullshit, you're just... beyond me. You know, not everyone you meet is going to like you? And that's alright, we can dislike each other from a distance. You aren't even from here, so I'm sure once TikTok strips you from next week's algorithm influx of event clips I'll be freed from the shackles of your presence".
"But I don't dislike you at all, in fact I thought you did a really good job today. I was hoping you'd like me too".
You took a long pull of the barely lit cig, trying to gather your thoughts. You were all out of witty comebacks and sly remarks, he seemed frustratingly genuine, and a tinge of guilt crept in. What if he really was just a nice guy rather than some evil, fuckboy overlord.
Fine. You indulged him. He bought your next drink, and then another, and another. Your cheeks were flushed, eyes heavy-lidded with a beaming grin. Not like he was far behind, being a bigger guy gave him a bit more leeway on the intoxication scale, but not by much. "So, you still hate me?"
"Only a little, I'm starting to see the appeal". You giggled, hair pulled back out of your face with a stray band you were lucky enough to fish out of your mini-junk-drawer of a purse. You weren't sure how much time had passed, but somewhere along the lines you got comfortable. If he was as terrible as he's made to seem, he was an excellent actor.
His fingers tangled through his own curls, cradling the back of his head, elbow still propped firmly upon the tiled countertop. His gaze was always soft, it had a disarming effect about it. Warm, brown, smiling eyes that somehow felt so intense, as if he was looking straight through you.
"About damn time, because I was hoping you'd show me around the city tomorrow. Took a few days for free time before I fly back". He tipped his drink back, rings clinking against the glass as he grabbed it.
"Awh, and you were doing so well, I was almost impressed". You stifled a laugh, trying to ignore his smug smirk; "How often does the whole 'show me around the city' thing actually work with women?"
"More often than you might think. Seriously though, I'd like to see you again. I'll take the little bit of hate if it means you'll take my number".
He's laughably corny, but the liquor had you feeling generous enough to consider it.
"Hmmm, what if I'm not from New York either, I could just be here for the convention, like you".
"Did you think I wouldn't do a bit of research on you too? The media outlet you work for is like less than fifteen minutes away. No way anyone in their right mind is working anywhere over 10 miles out with the way traffic is here".
"Okay stalker". As if you hadn't analyzed enough information to write a biography about him.
"Skimming Wikipedia, is hardly stalking... unless that's what you're into".
You rolled your eyes, folding your arms across your chest, smiling; "What I'm Into is none of your business Mr. Piker".'
"Sorry ma'am, won't happen again". He playfully threw his hands up in surrender.
"Better".
He swindled a plain white napkin from the neat stack in front of him, reaching in his breast pocket to retrieve a blue inked pen, quickly scribbling something down. "I gotta head out, early morning tomorrow...Here's my number, call me if you change your mind". His sentence taking uneven pauses as he spoke, multitasking is clearly not his strong suit. You nodded, watching as he stood to his feet, sorting through his black, leather wallet, leaving some cash behind as a tip before turning to face you.
"Have a good night, Hasan".
"Yes ma'am, you too". he smirked, giving you a small wave as he walked off, trailing toward the exit. Once he was finally gone, the bar was no longer overly busy. Music came out the victor, winning a hard fought battle against the noise of once deafening conversations. It almost seemed too quiet now, uncomfortable from the soft atmosphere you so recently yearned for. A hue of anxiety tugged at your nervous system, beginning to feel greatly perturbed in your skin. Nothing is even wrong, in fact, when you feel this way more often than not there is no real problem.
Sometimes you worry you'll never end up being one of those at the tables, surrounded in friends that actually get you, like you even. You felt silly even desiring something so "unimportant", but unfortunately, you couldn't hide your feelings from your own brain, no matter how harshly you neglected to address them.
You sighed, finishing what remained in your cup, mostly melted ice at this point. You needed to get out of here, and back to your home. Being in your favorite space was bound to shake you of your sudden funk. You apprehensively grabbed the napkin, shaking your head at the little smiley face he left by his name, shoving it in your designer bag.
***
Unprofessional. A word that repeated in your head as you stared down the unsaved contact on your phone screen. You half wished he had just taken your number down, so this matter would be on his conscience instead of yours. You were burdened by the idea of looking like another one of his pathetic conquests, only around to feed his already oversized ego.
You were ready to toss the crumpled dilemma in the bin, but remembered what your bestfriend so often told you, reminiscing on your most recent video call; "You can't become a recluse, I know you'd rather like eat a pair of jeans before you try to mingle, but you can't just stay alone forever. C'monnn at least fuck someone for the plot, shits been so boring around here lately, I need a good story time".
Admittedly, Hasan would be a great story time, but was going out with him worth something as nonsensical as the entertainment and approval of your long distance, yet closest friend...? You couldn't answer that confidently, but It was definitely enough to at least slide him a text.
You: Turns out I changed my mind, what do u want to go see?
Unknown Number: I was hoping you would :) Somebody must be in a good mood today
Unknown Number: And aren't you supposed to be showing me places??
You: So I gotta text first, AND take you out? When will it end!
Unknown Number: To be fair I asked for a call
Unknown Number: Jk, I'll message first from here on out, and you're not taking me out, just directing. I'll take care of everything else, I will pay, and send you a ride whenever you're ready. How's that sound?
You: I can get my own ride, but yeah sure. I can be ready in about an hour. What hotel you staying at?
Unknown Number: Impatient are we lol
You: Mf I'm trying to find a place close to both of us. U suck
Unknown Number: You're really fun to ragebait, yk that?
You: Prehistoric and saying ragebait btw
Unknown Number: Ouch! Ok fine I'm at the Hyatt. Super close to the convention center, hbu?
You: Nice try lmao. Ik where that is, I think I got just the place. Meet me here?
You: Dropped Location Pin.
You chose a cute café that had opened within the last year, you only visited a couple of times due to typically sticking to the restraints of the very local shops near you. Living in the heart of the city meant it wasn't hard to find whatever you needed less than a block away, so this was the perfect excuse for you to venture a tad further.
Upon entering the air smelled of freshly baked Italian pastries. Warm and coated in assortments of toppings, some being sprinkled with chopped fruits, others with more decadent options like chocolate shavings or cream fillings. You were overly early, on purpose, a part of you needed to be in your head for a minute, acclimating to the environment before facing him.
To be clear, you weren't nervous, not exactly at least. You are as sure of yourself as sure could be, it was all the other stuff outside of you that was confusing. Sometimes you felt like you were the only normal person around, everyone else went wrong some where along the way and now you were considered the strange one. Like everyone else was gifted a guidebook on how to be a person, while you were just stuck being clueless and well, you...
You liked you, but you weren't sure everyone else felt the same.
You ordered some flaky baked good you couldn't pronounce and a warm tea before finding a seat towards the back, but not far enough from the door to where your date could possibly miss you. My date? Is this a date? You wondered, but quickly scolded yourself for adhering such a silly idea to whatever *this* was.
You're in your head too much, stop that. Focus. You have emails to send, calls to make, shit to do before he gets here. Fix your posture, then fix your face, you're furrowing your eyebrows again. They're going to think you're mean, you don't want them to hate you. It doesn't matter if strangers hate you, are you really that pathetic? FOCUS.
You pulled your laptop from a different bag than yesterday's. This one was much larger, black leather made to look like snake print with gold hardware. You went to work immediately and entered a flow state of catching up on work you didn't really need to do for at least another few days. Someone emailed you asking to do an article on specifically you, not the company, Perhaps the Hasanabi clout was paying off already.
You leaned into the glowing screen and it swallowed you up the way it always did, a gentle tap on your shoulder eventually returned you to reality. Looking up to see the familiar tower of a man smiling at your side, his hand lingered as if you knew each other so well. "Hey, I called you a couple times, you must be really into whatever you're doing". He chuckled as you closed the laptop so fast people would've thought you were casually viewing porn.
"Oh, I didn't hear you, my bad".
"No worries, gonna grab myself a coffee. Be right back". He gave you a soft squeeze before disappearing to the tempered glass cases of goodies.
It was odd, meeting outside of business wear, him mainly, you still maintained the office siren vibe. You just wouldn't walk into work with a skirt this short or a button-up blouse so undone. You couldn't remember the last time you got dressed up to go out and see a friend, without any business proposals or obligations. It was a while, unsurprisingly considering the only real one you had lived halfway across the country.
You noted that he also looked nice, sporting an a olive green jacket, and black cargo pants. You wondered if the breezy weather here bothered him, you imagined California rarely ever got cold, sun beaming year round. You put the computer away, taking a sip of the once warm drink you barely touched. Hasan was quick to return, sitting in front of you with the same smile that never seemed to falter. "Are you always this punctual?" He asked, glancing at the time on his phone to see if he was mistaken. He arrived ten minutes early yet somehow you still had him beat.
"Yes, I have to be".
"Or what? You'll implode from lack of a strict schedule?"
"Yes".
"We can't have that". He took a sip from the recycled coffee cup before he continued, steam pouring from the little hole, unfazed by the seemingly scorching drink; "Can I ask, what made you change your mind?"
"Just bored, I guess. It's my off day, you were kinda my last assignment of the week".
"And now you're bringing your work project out on an off day? Yeesh".
You cracked a smile; "Alright chill, I am trying to be more spontaneous, do shit I wouldn't typically do".
"What do you typically do?"
"Say no".
He laughs, removing the bulky jacket before draping it along the back of his chair, exposing a black t-shirt. "I should've guessed that. Well, I must have good timing then, if I met you a month ago we probably wouldn't be sitting here right now".
"We wouldn't... but you weren't the worst company yesterday, and its not often I find someone I despise so likeable".
"Hmm, from hate to despise, I must be doing real good".
You nodded your head, eyes faltering towards your feet for a second, maybe you were the tiniest bit nervous, but only when he wouldn't stop staring you down. His eye contact is intense, okay?! Its completely reasonable. "Something like that".
To your surprise, even sober you began finding him enjoyable. He's funny, and patient, he doesn't get frustrated with your bluntness or write you off. You were beginning to acknowledge his charm was getting despicably hard to resist. After about an hour of chatting he bought you both drinks to go and you were off to the bumbling of the streets. You weren't sure where exactly the two of you were walking, which should've been especially concerning seeing as you are the pseudo-tour guide, but finally you began going with the flow.
"The coffees really good, I think I'd fly back just for that". Cool wind nipped at your hands as you walked against the airflow. You looked over to him, raising an eyebrow; "Just for the coffee, not your favorite city chaperone?"
"Well that's a given". He smirked, lacing his fingers between yours, you considered pulling away, but his grasp was perfectly warm and feeling just right in the cool air. Too comfortable against better judgement.
"Oh do you wanna go there?!" You pointed at a record store you had never noticed before, sounding probably a bit too excited, but how could you not be? You loved music, and craved beginning a physical media collection.
"If you do, then yeah, of course". You ignored his laugh, assuming it was directed at you, but that was far less important than the glowing, pink sign in front of you, glimmering in your pupils like a laser pointer to a cat. You pulled him along, catching up to being slightly in front of you once again to hold the door open with his free hand.
"I take it you like music?" He asked, although rhetorical at this point, watching you revoke his hand-holding privileges only to finger through a stack of vinyls at maximum efficiency. "Yeah I love it, I spend way too much time making playlists, even at the office. What do you listen to?"
"I actually don't listen to too much, not my thing".
You paused from the rapid sorting to face him; "You're joking, right? Everyone likes music".
"Not me, always been more into movies over music".
"But those things aren't interchangeable... What about when you workout?"
"Sometimes, but usually I'd rather just focus".
"On what, the sounds of heavy breathing and weights hitting the floor?"
He chuckled at your genuinely perplexed expression, beginning to file through the records himself, although he wasn't sure what he was looking for. Mainly just admiring the cover art and trying to look busy enough to encourage you to take your time.
"Maybe you can show me some music then".
"I will".
To be fair you did show him music, you just weren't expecting it to be in his hotel room an hour later. Your go-to playlist connected to the Bluetooth speakers, adhered under the flat screen television. You laid back on his bed, taking a drag from the half smoked cigarette as you enjoyed the song vibrating the room. Hasan on the other hand gave you your space, sitting on chair hardly under ten feet from you, watching you drink in your favorite tunes. His jacket was long tossed on the floor, now changed into something more comfortable and glasses-less. Previously excusing himself to the bathroom to slip into sweatpants, accompanied by the same charcoal colored shirt from earlier.
You were impressed by the luxuries of his room, although, with him being wealthy and all it should come as no surprise. "Do you ever wish you weren't so busy?" He asks, leaning back in the tan, leather upholstered, chesterfield chair, absentmindedly tapping his foot.
You thought for a moment, unsure of how to answer. Sure, a part of you craved moments like these, being around another human that isn't paid to be there, making memories filled with more than just business endeavors, but how could you give that up. You couldn't drop your dream career, not for anything. "Not really, I searched for a job as fulfilling as this one for years, moved states for it. I feel like I'm finally where I'm supposed to be, and besides, I barely know what to do with as few free days as I have right now".
"I get that, I'm not sure who I'd be without politics. Its the one thing I've stayed the most consistent with over the last decade, but I also can't imagine leaving behind the aspect of socialization either. I admire your dedication, but I guess I don't understand how you can stand only having one. Don't you get lonely?"
A smoky breath got caught in your throat at that question, you always accepted being alone, but were you someone that was lonely...? You tried not to think about that, sticking to your passion was safe and steady, you didn't need anyone getting in the way of that, distracting you, but here you are.
"I don't know... being alone just makes sense for me. I think I'd rather stick to things I'm good at, relationships aren't one of those".
"How do you know you're bad at something if you don't ever try? I liked you even after you called me a narcissistic, man whore. That's pretty good". He laughed, watching you sit up, reaching over to put the cig out in the ashtray on his nightstand before settling on the edge of the bed, pantyhose covered feet dangling over the polished hardwoods.
"You're easy, and stubborn. Most people would've walked away before then, and I don't really blame them".
Hasan's mouth fell open in amusement and shock at the accusations; "Stubborn? coming from you?"
"Yeah Yeah. Whatever, man".
"For what it's worth, you're doing a lot of good shit for the world as is, dedicated to a real cause. If you love working as hard as you do, that's perfectly fine".
Your smile faltered a bit, it didn't always feel perfectly fine. He was being kind, yet for some reason his words made your chest ache. You wanted to ask him how he does it, balancing it all, being a fun person while also maintaining consistency in his goals. You bit back the envy and vulnerability, you always hid those feelings from the surface. You wanted to let the hurt claw its way from your throat and be heard, explaining how hard it all gets to be. Instead, you decided to say nothing at all.
The conversation fell silent, responsibility to fill the empty space being left to the soft hums of that indie album that warms your heart. He stayed quiet for a minute, hoping he didn't make the wrong move, finally interjecting; "You want me to order us some food, or drinks? The room service here isn't half bad".
You were thankful he let the awkward moment pass without mention, you nodded your head, accepting the menu he swiftly got up and handed to you. He sat next to you on the plush, king sized mattress, pointing out a suggestion. "That is really good, had it last night".
"I'm not too hungry, I'll probably just get a drink".
"You're telling me you got full off a chocolate croissant you had two hours ago?"
"Yup, plus I ate before I came. Seriously, I'm good". Truth be told your mind was too busy to even consider a full course meal at the moment. You both agreed on a bottle of champagne, it was mostly a joke suggestion, but he decided it was a great idea, despite there being nothing worth celebrating. After he phoned in the request he returned by your side, rambling on about something having to do with quick service and 'should be here soon', but by now you already tuned him out, planning to do something still sober and stupid.
He smelled like expensive cologne and future mistakes, something about it ran through your mind on repeat. You weren't scared of him, or even what was bound to come next, but more so terrified of the addictiveness that came with connection. You've done this before, other people on other nights, some good, and even more mediocre, at best. Secretly, you loved it all, the awkward mistakes, the touches that abandoned goosebumps on your skin, the lies, the I love yous, the excitement. It was all painfully human.
Your eyes met his in a knowing manner, gaze drifting between eye contact and his lips. You made the first move, not hurriedly like the way they do in movies, tearing each other's attire off as if the cloth was suffocating their bodies, needing to be removed as quick as possible, but not tender either. you leaned in with a fair amount of hesitation, waiting for him to stop you, tell you to wait, but the moment never came.
He met you in the middle, his lips soft and plush, tasting like Chapstick and french vanilla expresso. You wonder if he applied lip balm for you, just in case . The same way you decided against wearing lipstick, settling for a clear gloss, on the off chance that...
His hand was hesitant, relaxing on your thigh, inching so patiently up to your side, finding shelter in the dip of your waist. You climbed on top of him, straddling his waist and pushing him back. He followed your lead, as he did all day, allowing you to decide what felt right.
"Take your shirt off". You mumbled against him, he nodded softly, accidentally brushing his nose against yours. You retreated just enough for him to remove his top, pulling the tee over his head in one fluid motion.
You traced your lengthy acrylics over his chest hair, taking in his raw appearance, looking just right under you. He sat up just barely, cupping your face with both hands pulling you back into a kiss. His touch felt electric, and experienced, no stutters or incorrect moves. You wrapped your small hand around his throat, hardly able to even get a good grip due to the size difference, but enough to warn him.
"I'm in control here, you touch when I say you can". You cautioned sternly, large puppy dog eyes making it hard for him to take you too serious, but he agreed. His jaw tightening as his hands fell back to your hips.
"Yes, ma'am".
You were a bit surprised by his willingness, men were often so rough, so greedy, like a pack of hungry wolves to your flesh. You swallowed hard, hand remaining at his neck as you returned to his lips. Both parties were growing needier as you swirled your tongue around his, granting gentle nips at his bottom lip, tugging until you heard him whine from under you. The teasing had him growing harder by the minute, even more so once you began winding your hips against him. Your hands traveling between your legs, lifting yourself enough to undo the tie of his black sweats.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
You cursed under your breath, freezing in place as you remembered the bottle of bubbly you ordered no more than 5 minutes ago. Quickly moving off of him, he stood to his feet, answering the door casually as if he wasn't shirtless. Lucky room service attendant.
He murmured a quick thanks, retrieving the bottle, shutting the door and turning to the kitchenette. You sat up, arms propped up behind you on the bed. "Bad timing, huh?" You smirked, eying the muscles on his back, as he fumbled with the cork, accidentally popping it a tad too fast, spraying some on his chest.
"The worst".
He handed you a full glass, same as his own, sitting beside you as if nothing ever happened. "You know we don't have to do this, I didn't bring you here with the intention of sex. " he asked, sipping the carbonated alcohol.
"Not sure I believe that, but sweet anyways. Don't worry about it though, I want to".
"Good, I want it too".
You drank with intention, hastily gulping down the entire glass, he noticed. Crawling behind him to place it on the nightstand beside the ashtray you previously visited. You sat still, waiting for him to prompt you, but instead he drank with zero rush, taking occasional, slow sips.
"You usually dom?" His tone was casual, but his gaze something more serious, looking intently as if he was waiting to call your bluff.
"Yes, of course. Do I seem very submissive to you?" You laughed, but he was fully serious, buzzing with curiosity.
"Yeah... I think you need someone to take care of you. Focus on what makes you feel good". His voice urged a tingling sensation in your core, and you weren't sure how to respond.
He stole a final drink before setting the glass aside, next to yours, still a quarter full. He situated himself between your legs, hovering over you. You laid your head back against the sheets, heart beating with anticipation and slight confusion; "You don't know what I need". Your words came out hardly above a whisper, somehow weaker than you expected.
"You sure?" He leaned in, speaking only inches away, you relaxed your face, letting your eyes flutter closed expecting him to kiss you, but instead he gave his attention to the crook of your neck. Leaving open mouthed kisses, sucking gently enough to prevent marks. You should probably stop him, regain control, he was getting overzealous.
His lips found themselves at the middle of your chest, pulling back, centered in your view. His fingers slowly went to work on your blouse's buttons, unfastening the rest of them one by one. "You can still dom me if you want, just say the word". his eyes shifting between the lace bra and your perplexed expression. Your head subconsciously shook no, only for a second, despite how nervous you were growing. His touch felt perfect in every way, but this was new, you never surrendered yourself to someone before, and that scared you. You'd usually stop futile attempts to shift the power, but suddenly you couldn't resist.
He continued, his voice low and husky; "I know you like to dictate everything in your life, but there's still control in submitting to someone... Y'know that? Let me make you feel good, baby".
Whatever bit of your mind you had left that wasn't pining for him to fuck you said this is probably gaslighting somehow, but at this point you were past caring. He kissed down from clavicle to heart, continuing all the way to below your bellybutton. He tugged on your skirt, pulling it along with your tights down only far enough to access your hipbones. Leaving soft bites against your skin, earning a gasp from you.
You tangled your hand in his messy waves causing him to glance up, trying to gauge your feelings. "Is that okay with you? I promise if you give me control just for a little bit you can have it back, as soon as I'm finished". he smiled, hands holding either of your sides, awaiting a clear answer.
You hesitated, massaging timid circles on his head as you weighed your options. You blurted a response without thinking of the immediate embarrassment you'd feel from admission; "I'm nervous, sorry. I-I still want to, I'm just not usually the one to give in". You felt silly and exposed, considering leaving before he ever had the chance to laugh in your face. He didn't laugh, carefully adjusting his positioning from your lower half back up to your face, still above you. "That's okay, we can talk about it. Tell me what you want, or what you don't want".
"I- uh... I want you...?"
"Well yeah, I know that, but what do you want me to do with you? You want me to be rough, call you names, or be sweet?"
"I like rough. I don't want to be called anything too mean, I don't like whore or slut".
He propped himself up on one elbow, the other caressing your face, smoothing astray hairs with his thumb. "Got it... hmmm, What about my pretty little puppy? Could pet you and tell you how good are are doing. That okay?"
Your mouth fell slightly agape, unsure if you were supposed to laugh or not. You assumed he was joking, but very quickly realized he was dead serious. Pet play was not something you were all too familiar with, but it didn't sound bad. To be fair, almost nothing sounded bad coming from his mouth.
Pretty little puppy. Your mind replayed his syrupy sweet tone in your head, your bent legs relaxed at his sides, skin grazing against his. Maybe you finally found something you agreed on.
"As long as I don't have to bark for you". you smiled, draping your arms around the back of his neck, hoping he'd finally return to your lips.
"Only if you want to, baby".
Once you sorted out the details of your arrangement, he moved quickly. Yanking off your top, along with your bra. He flipped you over, pressed against the mattress, at his mercy. Next it was your bottom wear, removing all three layers of cloth in one motion, allowing them to fall in a scattered pile on the floor.
His breaths were heavy with lust already from seeing you nude, firmly gripping your hips from behind, lifting them ever so slightly, admiring the view of your slick folds. You awaited his next move, heart pounding, wet and naked. The spinning ceiling fan covered you in chills as the cold air repeatedly drafted over your body.
He slipped a thumb into his mouth, wetting the pad of his finger before aligning it with your slit. At first, you appreciated the delicate pace, just barely brushing your clit, but you soon grew impatient, craving more, pushing back against him. It was no use, every time you attempted to steal more than he was willing to give he pulled away entirely. After your third offense he granted you an open handed slap across your ass, only hard enough to sting for a second, testing the waters.
A mixture between a wince and a moan fell from your lips, enjoying the slight pain more than anticipated. "You take what I give you or you get nothing at all, understand?"
You nodded against the sheets, sighing in relief as his fingers returned to your sensitive spot, this time a touch more firm. Sure he scolded you, but he couldn't help himself from giving you what you needed. You tried you best to remain still and pliant, but the increasing pleasure made it impossible. Nonetheless, he did notice your efforts, placing a quick kiss where he previously slapped before once again halting. You were worried you made another mistake, bracing for impact.
"Much better, baby. Trying so hard to be a good girl". Without warning you were met with sloppy wet kisses to your cunt. Now you were the one trying to pull away, writhing in overstimulation, crying out, no longer able to hold it in. His grasp was unwavering on your thighs, holding you tight to his face, occasional groans vibrating against you.
Your peak was coming up fast, juices already flowing down his chin, and the way he was fucking his tongue inside of you wasn't helping. You babbled out incoherent pleas that only encouraged him. "Don't cum- not yet". He demanded between sucking at your clit, lapping up your slick.
You wanted to listen, you really did, but his mouth was hitting every inch of your heat, unable to ignore the developing intensity. "I c-can't, please". You whined, nails digging into the white bedding.
Once again he left you unsatisfied, and edged, building you up just to stop you in your tracks. You never felt like this before, so used to pleasing your previous partners, feeling fulfilled just by getting them off. The idea of your pleasure being the focus was nerve-wracking and overly vulnerable. Before, you couldn't imagine letting someone prioritize you in this way, it was almost uncomfortable, but now you were becoming something you didn't recognize. Ravenous. Desperate.
Suddenly you'd do anything for him to return to your aching needs. "C'mere, pretty girl". He moved to the edge of the bed, standing and coaxing you to come lay in front of him, head parallel to the erection leaking through his sweats. You looked up at him for your next command, like a good pet would, eyes wide and glossy. His hand held your chin to be sure you maintain the eye contact he so deeply loves. "Gonna grab something, okay? Be a good pup and get on your knees before I come back, understood?"
You nodded in agreement and that was enough for him, placing a brief kiss on your damp forehead before disappearing for the bathroom. He didn't have to tell you twice, when he returned you were sitting on the cool, wood floor so politely, hands folded in lap, that precious, ruined look on your face already. In his right hand lay a belt, leather and folded over itself, the same one he was wearing earlier.
Without another word he laced it around your neck, the buckle jingling as he adjusted it, nice and tight. Still unfastened so it'd only grow more restricting if you tried pulling away. He wrapped the end of the makeshift leash around his hand, giving it a testing tug that made you gasp. "This okay?" He asked with a voice so tender it sounded like he was only requesting something as simple as holding your hand.
"Yes". You were certain now, you wanted more.
"Perfect". He smirked, holding your jaw, caressing your face for a moment before pressing his thumb to your still glossy bottom lip, rubbing back and forth against the shine. "Open".
You did, allowing your tongue to lull out under his finger as he slid it in and out. His jaw tightened, imagining how it'd feel if that were his dick instead, how you'd look with him slapping the tip on your tongue. He was getting ahead of himself.
"Mhmm, just like that. You taste your pussy on me, baby?" He cooed, generously allowing you to suck the length of his digit before pushing all the way to the back of your throat, causing you to gag around him.
He pulled away, giving you a chance to breathe, using his now free hand to withdraw his thick eight inches, sticky precum flicking onto his abs. Your eyes widened, knowing you were in for a trying time. Your determination eclipsed your fear, opening you mouth in the same manner as before, ready for him. "Tap me if its too much, okay?"
He held his throbbing length in one hand, belt in the other, griping so tight his knuckles turned white as he slid past the threshold of your lips. He gritted back a moan, slow thrusting as you became acclimated, relaxing your throat. His head tilted back, too entranced in the pleasure of your velvety mouth, cursing under his breath. The husky groans had you squeezing your thighs together, rocking back and forth on your heel, soft whimpers vibrating against him. He redirected his focus back to you, appreciating how good you looked with his cock half-way down your throat. However, half-way wasn't enough, greedy for your touch he yanked the belt, your lips falling flush with the base, pubic hair brushing against your nose. You gagged around him but he held you in place, length pulsing in your mouth.
"Shhh I know, that's it, take all of it".... "Such a good puppy, so eager to please".
He wasn't wrong. Every bit of praise you earned made you want to try even harder, willing to give up your own breath just for more shaky commendations. When he finally released his hold, you flew back, gasping for as much air as you could gather before returning to your work. The humming of your moans against his shaft had him biting the inside of his cheek, trying to focus on the pain rather than pleasure. You were getting too good at this, dropping the leather lead and grabbing a fistful of your hair to pull you off. You slid off hesitantly, sucking until the last second, producing a 'pop' sound as you broke the suction.
He scooped you from the ground, like fully lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist. He let his sweatpants fall to the ground, both finally, and entirely naked. He stared you down hungrily, arms wrapped around your lower back, in a state of awe with how perfect you look with droplets of tears resting on your lashes, lips puffy and pink, drool smeared all the way down to your neck. His lips crashed into yours, kissing you roughly, yet somehow so precisely it felt affectionate. Hasan sucked on your lower lip before slipping tongue, you tasted like an erotic mixture of salty precum and subtle, fruity sweetness from the champagne.
He laid you back on the bed, leaving himself at the side of it, standing over you. He maintained breathless eye contact as he slid his tip against your clit, making sure you're still drenched. His eyebrows knitted together as he pushed through your entrance, gaining gasps from both of you. The stretch was intoxicatingly filling, he fucked into you, harsh and sloppy, so big every stroke hit just right without even trying.
Your hands searched for something to hold onto, wishing he was close enough to claw into, but you came back empty handed, settling for fistfuls of messy sheets. Your eyes rolled back, head buzzing with pleasure so intense you could hardly form a thought at this point. "Pretty little puppy taking my dick so well... Fuck- you're so fuckin' tight".
Snapping you from your empty-minded headspace, he harshly grabbed your face. "Eyes on me, baby. Want you to remember whos fucking you". You nodded quickly, tits bouncing as he pounded into you.
He was fighting his own release, biding his time by changing positions. He remained inside you while maneuvering himself onto the bed, you straddling on top of him, letting out a sharp gasp from the new angle of depth he was reaching, pushing hard against your cervix. "Show me how bad you want to cum, pet". He regained his grasp on the belt dangling from your throat, other arm resting behind his head.
You began bouncing without question, disregarding your already shaking thighs, muscles burning from exhaustion, grinding your hips against his whenever you ran out of steam. It didn't matter what you did, the grip you had on his cock was enough to have Hasan on the brink of being a moaning mess. You on the other hand were practically panting, mouth slightly ajar, face flushed with a reddish blush over your cheeks. His thumb went to work on your clit, rapidly rubbing ripples of pleasure through your core.
You let out lewd, broken moans, riding him with intent as that feeling you so badly needed returned to the surface, nearly right back at your edge. He pulled you by your leash firmly, snapping you closer. "Let me see your tongue, pup. Open". You obliged immediately, his thumb only leaving its home between your legs to press into your tongue, spit dribbling down his arm. "Good girl". Collecting your saliva for lube he returned back to your sensitive nub.
"H-Hasan?" You barely managed to get out.
"Yes, baby?"
"Can I please cum, please?" You were fully prepared to beg, but instead were met with a subconscious, frantic nod from him; "Y-yea, cum with me, baby... cum all over my cock".
You tried to respond but nothing was coherent, babbles of thank yous and whatnot. He began a countdown, stare intense as he kept you a foot from his face, no longer able to keep the relaxed posture of arm behind the head, he used it instead to grip a handful of ass, holding you steady as he fucked upwards into you.
Before he could reach one he snapped you as close as possible, you fell on top of him, lips colliding with his. Both moaning in ecstasy through the sloppy kiss as you fell over the edge, milking him with your clenching walls as he filled you to the brim. Still throbbing inside you as you're coming down from the dizzying orgasm, he released the belt, cupping your face with both hands. You broke the kiss only to breathe, sweaty foreheads pressed together. He gave you occasional pecks as you remained tied together, close, breathing each other in. He eventually became half-flaccid, and you were really hoping it stayed that way too because holy fuck another round of that would be enough to take you out.
You came first and then to the conclusion that maybe letting go of control wasn't always so bad, at least not in this context. Surprisingly, you loved it, you wanted more of it, possibly even more of him specifically. "Was that okay?" He asked, soft words practically a whisper, warm breath ghosting against your skin.
Your lips twisted into a smile that almost became a laugh; "Just okay? No, it was really good". Even 'really good' felt like an understatement, shit, you were about ready to start barking for him. "Wasn't too rough?"
You shook your head no, to which he responded with a smile, lacing firm arms around your back, laying you against his chest. "Alright baby, the power is back in your hands. What do you want next: a hot shower, sleep, food?" He smoothed your hair out of your face, planting a kiss on top of your head.
"Can we just stay here for a while?" You asked, absentmindedly tracing your fingers along his collarbone.
"Of course, anything you want".
***
You ended up showering together, steam pouring over your sudsy skin, glued to one another. He was surprisingly affectionate, intimate even, gently massaging conditioner through your hair, and letting you steal all the hot water while he waited patiently. Holding you from behind or kissing you whenever you'd let him. It almost felt foreign, you weren't the biggest romantic, at least not outwardly, but there was no desire to stop him either.
You told him you should get back, can't spend the night, but agreed to stick around a bit longer. You changed into one of his clean t-shirts, getting too comfortable in his arms before accidentally dozing off. You woke up only a few hours later, bodies sleepily tangled together. It reminded you of those days when you were expected to wake up far too early in the morning, when the bed felt just right, and the sun hadn't even risen yet. The plush duvet hugged your torso, same as him, warm and begging you to stay.
You couldn't.
Well, not technically. In reality, Hasan would've loved for you to stay next to him, even just until the morning, but something in your mind wouldn't let you. So you snuck out, leaving him still shirtless, snoring, and lost in his dreams. At the end of the bed you neatly folded the shirt he let you borrow, collecting your belongings thoroughly. Only evidence you were ever there being the end of a burnt up cigarette, and lip-gloss on the rim of a glass.
He woke up disheveled, tired eyes scanning around the room for you, hoping you'd only slipped away to the bathroom, sure to pop out and say goodmorning, but nothing. He sighed, disappointed, but not too shocked, he understood you weren't the type to play house. You found no point in pretending to resemble something of a couple, or lingering longer than necessary. You didn't have time for that.
He texted you soon after, asking where you went. The conversation was short, you had too much to focus on, leaving him on read and getting ready for another day at the office. He asked if he could see you again before he left, you hesitantly agreed. Schedule too full to meet him any day other than the one he departed on. You let him buy you coffee, something about it made you feel hollow, although you couldn't pinpoint why, an obnoxious, burning lump in your throat when you entered the airport by his side.
There wasn't much time to sit around and enjoy your drinks, finishing them at the terminal. He held your hand the same way he did days ago, you didn't think twice about it this time. "I'm really glad we met". He nodded as if he was confirming certainty to himself, turning to face you. Talking was a lot easier five minutes ago, without him looking directly at you, or sounding so sincere. Walking and talking casual, you wished you didn't have to be so suddenly still, so confronted, but you'd arrived at your final stop. You opened your mouth to speak but your throat went dry, settling on a nod instead.
"It's okay, I know you aren't big on the sentimentals, I'll keep it to a minimum". He chuckled, you broke a smile, eyes flickering to your feet.
"Thank you... I had fun too".
"Good. I hope we can see each other again sometime. For business or otherwise...".
"Nahhh, I try not to make it a habit to have a *thing* with people I can't stand".
"Only can't stand now? Hmm, not bad, keep me around and maybe I'll get you to liking me by the end of the year... and maybe next time I could show you around LA, or you could tell me where to take you and we'll go".
You rolled your eyes, stifling a laugh; "Don't get your hopes up".
He threw his head back in defeat, grin on his face, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. "Well, you have my number, call me if you ever change your mind". He kissed the top of your head, and your heart fluttered more than you'd like to admit. Giving him a little wave when he turned around, a final goodbye before he descended into some overly long line for TSA, so crowded you lost him entirely. Something in you ached.
Somehow he was on your mind more now that he was gone across the country. What ever happened to out of sight out of mind? The first week you felt stricken with loneliness, but maybe you always were and had never noticed it... You went out to a bar, hoping someone would strike up a conversation, they did. You didn't think they were as funny or interesting as Hasan, but that wasn't the point. The point is you were trying, despite how much you wanted to reject anything new.
As time went on, you made a friend. Not a hookup, not person who didn't *get* you, or a 'work friend' that always said you should hang, but never wanted to really make plans. This was a real, actual friend. You routinely went out together every Sunday, going shopping, getting drinks, walking the city. She was really into music too, the first time you visited her place she proudly showed off her extensive record collection, even helping you start yours.
You still didn't stray from the late nights at the office, but you cut down on going in on your off days, trying to find enjoyment in life outside of business. It was hard at first, but eventually you found yourself complaining on Facetime about having work the next day. On Facetime, not with your hometown bestfriend for once, but with the evil, mansplaining bastard that made you reconsider the life you owed to yourself.
Okay maybe he's not so bad.
But still!
You never really stopped talking to each other, sure you were horrible at responding, but it improved over time. He was often busy himself, so it worked out, you both understood what it meant to have a demanding lifestyle. He didn't make you feel bad for being absorbed with other things, or like you weren't present enough. You talked once a week usually, and that was enough for now.
Eight months passed, your career was doing better than ever, you weren't repulsed by the idea of socializing (mostly), and the feeling of loneliness fizzled out. You woke up at a little past 11, late for you, but you were trying not to be so strict with yourself, enjoying the little things in life like sleeping in when you could.
You yawned, trailing to answer the knock at your door, opening it to expect an unplanned visitor only to be met with an empty hall, you stepped out, looking in either direction, almost stumbling on the carboard box below your feet. You didn't order anything that you could remember, but it sure had your name and address plastered on the shipping label.
You took it back to your kitchen table, running a pair of scissors over the tape. Neatly folded tissue paper, tied together with a ribbon, and a handwritten note tucked under the bow:
To the prettiest, most stubborn puppy girl,
Saw these and thought of you.
Heard its getting pretty cold in NY, but the sun is still shining down here.
Turns out there's even a record shop a few miles away from me,
never noticed it before. I think you'd like it.
Still missing your company, still hoping you change your mind.
-Hasan
You rolled your eyes, couldn't help but smile at the decorative cardstock. Carefully unwrapping the gift, your mouth fell wide open at its contents. You revealed a fluffy pair of faux dog ears on a headband with a matching tail attached to a metal plug. Initial shock developing into a full blown laugh. You weren't sure if they were a joke or not, but you fully intended to send a couple teasing pictures in them. Underneath the layer of explicit items was more decorative paper hiding a few additional surprises.
A skirt, a blouse, a very familiar record.
Both clothing items resembled your typical style, professional looking enough for work, but cute enough to wear really anywhere. Your heart full with excitement upon seeing the album, it was the same one you said he just 'had to hear' at the hotel, one of your favorites. You were surprised he remembered.
You held the vinyl to your chest, hugging it almost. By now you had a nice, put together set up for your physical music: a cute thrifted shelf for the growing collection, a turntable and speakers on the top, embellished with a few tiny trinkets. You immediately went to spin it up, a hum of approval slipping from your lips upon hearing the sweet melody falling from the pricey, new speakers. You sat back on your linen couch, retrieving a cigarette from the blue American Spirits box, not your typical choice, but you think you were growing to like this one more. Smoke wafted above your head, content with this moment.
It's not like everything was magically solved. You still had days where you buried yourself in work so deep you hoped nobody could find you, but sometimes you'd become brave enough to dig yourself back up to the surface. You are still standoffish, and rough around the edges, you still bear sharp, jagged teeth. You can't promise you won't bite. You're still figuring out how to balance being strong without being cold. Reminding yourself that there's strength in vulnerability. It's easy to attack at the first sign of discomfort, the hard part is letting your guard down, but you'd continue to try.
The idea of being benevolent didn't sound so far away anymore, and neither did California. You exhaled a nervous, cloudy breath, picking up your phone to make the call you'd been putting off for nearly a year now. You told yourself you'd hang up if he didn't answer by the third ring, but he'd already picked up at the second.
Maybe taking some time off wouldn't kill you...
