warnings. adult content, nsfw, cunnilingus, hair pulling, gentle oral sex
𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐥𝐲, watching Evan waltz into the bedroom. His large hands held a bowl that was filled to the brim with chicken noodle soup.
“There you go, baby..” Evan sighed, placing the bowl down on your nightstand. You turn your head weakly, staring at the white, ceramic bowl, steam rising up in small streams into the air, releasing the smell of the classic sick-day food. The dim lighting of your room reflected off the ceramic, making the atmosphere all the more cozy, even if you were sick.
The bedroom smelled of cold medicine, essential oils, and now chicken noodle soup. The large windows in the bedroom showed a beautiful view of the city’s skyline, giving you something to look at as you slowly rotted away with the vicious cold/flu-like sickness you had acquired from a coworker.
Evan placed the back of his hand on your forehead, the veins in his hands pushing against the abnormally warm flesh of your forehead. He hummed in a slightly concerned ton, putting his hand palm-down against your forehead, his thumb tracing slowly back and forth against your hairline.
“How’re you feelin’ chica?” Evan asked, using a nickname he’s had for you since you two started dating. You attempted to answer him, but he obviously wouldn’t be able to understand a sea of unintelligible “mnnn..”s and “bleh..”s.
“…shitty…” You manage to mutter out over all other things deemed incoherent. Evan placed a kiss to your forehead, his soft lips brining a cold fake-out feeling to your skin. You knew his lips weren’t actually cold. But it was a stark contrast to your body burning up like the Sahara Desert.
“Mm…I know, babe..” He cooed softly, kissing your forehead once again. You whined, your fingers pawing around his face. The pads of your fingers felt the semi-coarse feeling stubble that he was starting to grow, due to having to constantly take care of you these past days, which meant he had no time to shave.
Evan’s kisses trailed down your temples to your neck, opening and closing his mouth against your skin. You let out a soft moan, lolling your head back a bit. He slipped his hands under your hoodie, prying it up a little so his hands could run over your stomach. He pulls the hoodie from your body, gently as to not hurt you or jostle you around too much. Evan hooked his fingers in your sweatpants, pulling them down to your ankles as he started to speak.
”Any position you want, babe. Name it and we’ll do it..” Evan murmured huskily, kissing at your thighs. He lays on his stomach, gently guiding your legs over his shoulders.
Evan kisses you through your panties, nuzzling his nose against your clothes clit. He nipped your inner thighs, sucking roughly on the skin. When he pulled away, a small hickey already had started to form.
“…Whatever you want..” You murmured back, your hands going down to his hair. You tangled the brown locks with your fingers, intertwining but not pulling yet.
“Well I wanna keep you laid down…You don’t need to do a ton of moving around..” Evan said, pressing a small kiss to your cunt. He pulled one hand down, spreading your lips open, making them separate with a wet, vulgar sound. Evan pushed the tip of his tongue inside, swirling shallowly just far enough into your entrance before pulling back.
Evan spit on the tips of his finger, sliding them up and down your slit. You let out a shaky whine, silently pleading with him to keep going as you tugged gently on his hair.
“Agh, fuck…” Evan groaned gruffly, flicking his tongue up and down against your clit. he took the small bud into his mouth, sucking gently on it. He swirled his tongue around the happy little bundle of nerves before pushing it out of his mouth, sucking on the entirety of your pussy now. He pushed his tongue in and out of your hole, bending his tongue up inside of you to make you feel the maximum amount of pleasure. You tense your muscles, squeezing your eyes shut as you grabbed at his curls.
“Fuck-!!” You squeal, closing your legs around his head. He groans, his hands quickly going to your thighs as he continued to eat you out.
His tongue flicked against you once more, starting at the bottom of your cunt, drawing a wet line up to your clit, which received a few kisses. Evan nuzzled his face against you, breathing you in. “You doing okay..?”
You nod weakly. You loved it when he did this. When he took care of you, tried his hardest to take your mind off of being sick..You loved him. You were pulled out of your blissful thoughts of praise as you felt him hit that good spot. Your muscles tensed, your fingers clenched in his hair. And then you came, your orgasm crashing over you as harshly as it possibly could, making your already sickly body shudder. You let out a sharp moan, the loudest noise you’ve made yet.
Evan chuckled throatily licking another line from the bottom of your slit up to your clit, collecting that sweet, sugary substance, tasting of hints of honey and sin. He sighed, exhaling against your skin before continuing to clean you up.
“You’re so good..You feel better, chica..?” He chuckled softly, resting his head on your lower stomach. You nod, your eyes fluttering shut as you sighed, your chest heaving softly. Evan smiled, wiping his mouth as he sat up. He readjusted you, slipping your panties and hoodie back on. He held your hips, moving you carefully into a sitting position, holding that ceramic bowl of chicken noodle soup.
“Let’s get you eating something, baby..” Evan smiled, grabbing the spoon in the bowl.
Life shaped him into someone the scared nineteen years old dad with a sick baby and a death sentence hanging over his head would not recognise; someone the repressed fourteen years old who never lingered too long in the lockers after softball would be repulsed by and someone the twenty six years old probationary officer with no one in a too big city and too little house would be proud of. He was a fighter now, a real one. One that knew when to pull his punches, when to ask for help instead of ignoring his problems and waiting for them to magically disappear.
He learned, trial and error. So many errors, so many mistake he sometimes still foolishly wished he could erase; so much pain sometimes he still childishly wished he could give to someone else, so much emptiness he innocently hoped someday could be filled. And life had laughed at his face once again for doing so.
His abuela was his rock, the mother he wished his own would be, all she had for him was tight hugs and warm food, the soft look in her eyes every time he talked, never a speck of disappointment and always a piece of advice.shemade sure she made an extra serving of dinner so he didn't have to think about his lunch, she took care of her boys through the pain in her hip and the exhaustion in her muscles. She called him a million times a day to ask the same thing just to make sure he was okay, she’d force him to watch the same three telenovelas with her so he’d rest, she’d take the blanket off her legs to cover his shoulders. She had touched his heart and smiled, she had taken his hand and walked with him in his darkness to show him how beautiful the light at the end of it was.
Shannon taught him to laugh with his chest, to let his head tilt back and tears gather in his eyes. She placed her head on his shoulder and held him down, anchored him to the ground; she smiled walking in the mess his mind was, unraveling patiently the tangled mess his thoughts were, not bothering to stop when a thorn would puncture harshly her fingers, she would bleed through it with that light in her eyes. She taught him love, loud, all over the place, deep, powerful, sublime. A sublime, beautifully terrifying love that left him smiling at the sky, bruised and battered, bleeding and broken.
Bobby. Captain Robert J. Nesh carved a space for him in an already perfectly functioning station and showed him what affection and love was supposed to feel like, asked him to be a part of a family.
The man took a single, quick glance once and saw the scared kid Eddie truly was underneath the carefully built shell, with raw knuckles and nowhere to call home, terrified of his own mind and his own hands; he saw the pain, the anger, the frustration, the horrors he buried deep under professional nods and quiet obedience and smiled. He smiled so kindly after the interview, Eddie could never forget it; it was seared in his brain, occasionally flashing before his eyes when he thought about getting another beer out of the fridge when even Buck was gone and he sat completely alone in the darkness of his too empty living room; he saw it when he had to sit Chris down that morning, fumbling with his dog tags and stumbling over his words, asking God how to tell a fifteen year old he had to go through loss and grief again. He saw it when looking at the picture next to the coffin, it blinded him when the soil smacked against the wood, when Athena said her goodbyes. He saw it when Buck's face fell that night, in his kitchen, after he stabbed him with words that didn't feel his, he caught it in the corner of his eyes when the sharpness of that comment slashed through the thick tension suffocating them, breaking something, opening old wounds. He felt it, deep in his core when Buck apologised, it burned through his gains like it did that day after the interview; like it always did.
Eddie still felt it, the guilt clawing up his throat every time he visited the grave. Guilt for unsaid words and unshared feelings, for all the almost and the neverminds, for the times he yelled, the times he disobeyed, the times he let his anger spit out lies, the times he lied, the times he left.
