Tarot: Pete Calvin x Reader (NSFWish)
Tagging: @kmc1989
Summary: Cal needs a little divine intervention in the aftermath of his diagnosis.
You’re wearing Cal’s sweater. It falls past your ass, skirting along your thighs as he watches you light the candles that rest upon the dresser. They bathe the bedroom in a sultry glow, illuminating your flushed skin from your earlier love making. He hadn’t meant to come here tonight, hadn’t meant to end up in your bed, but that doctor’s appointment had left him craving the comfort he finds between your sheets so he’d appeared at your door, hands tucked into his back pockets as he stood on the porch of your cabin.
“You want a reading?” You ask.
His gaze is drawn to the set of tarot cards in your hands. He’s not the spiritual sort, he’s seen too much, done too much but he could do with a little guidance from the universe, he needs a fucking sign or something because right now it feels like he’s going fucking crazy.
“I could do with a fresh perspective.” He says, his back straightening up against the headboard your daddy carved out for your momma’s martial bed when he was courting her. The pain in his neck throbs, not enough to have him reaching for the pills but enough to remind him that it’s there, underneath the surface.
“Ok then.” You climb back onto the bed, the cards passing from your hands to his as he shifts so he can sit cross legged, creating a small space between the two of you.
He’s an old hand at this now, he knows the routine. At first, he did it just to humour you, but now… he sees his future shifting between his hands as he shuffles the cards. His past and present flicking through the, as he thinks of his question, the one that’s been on his mind since he received his diagnosis.
Is this thing going to kill me?
You wait patiently until he’s ready, tucking an errant strand of hair back behind your ear as he lays out three cards across the sheets in front of him. Left to right: his current situation, his obstacle, the universe’s advice for resolving the matter.
He raps his fingertips over the first one before he flicks it over revealing the Two of Swords.
“Indecision.” You say, and he sighs because yeah, that would be about the summary of it. Should he consider the possibility of surgery? Should he do chemo hoping it’ll prolong his life long enough to make up with Maddie?
He turns over the next one. The Five of Pentacles.
“Illness.” You state, your head tilting up to meet his gaze. “They’ve certainly got you pegged tonight.”
You know, of course you do. You’ll say it’s magic, the universe whispering in your ear, but he thinks it’s perception, that maybe you’re a lot cleverer than you realise when it comes to reading people. Or… maybe he’s just not been that good about hiding his pills as he thought he was, and this is you giving him the space to wrap his head around it before he tells you the full story.
His hand hovers over the last one, his fingertips trailing over the worn pattern. These cards, they’ve been in your family for generations, just like the rest of the holistic stuff. Your people have existed for eons up on this mountain as healers, and now you’re the last one left running a 22-acre nature-based nonprofit that provides a safe, peaceful environment for veterans, trauma survivors, and individuals in recovery to heal and reconnect.
It’s how the two of you met. You’d helped to quieten the noise in his head and five years later, you’d run into each other in that bar where Maddie works when he took up the Marshal’s position out here.
He’d call it fate but… that’s a little too woo woo for his taste.
He turns over the last card. The Hanged Man.
“You need to take the time to make a decision, recalibrate.” You say and he rolls his eyes to the sky because of course the fucking universe couldn’t just give him a hint on how to deal with this thing.
“That was a complete waste of time.” He tells you, gathering the cards up and handing them back to you. “Didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know.”
You shake your head as you reach across him, placing the tarot cards down on the nightstand. Your skin brushes lightly over his as he stretches out his legs, settling them between yours until you’re straddling his hips. “Did you think the cards would solve all your problems Cal? That they’d disappear in a puff of smoke like magic?”
“Yeah, maybe a little.” He says sourly as his hands grasp your waist, kneading the flesh as he looks up at you with messy hair and needy eyes.
“You know it doesn’t work like that.” Your nose chases over his, a tender, intimate gesture that makes things a little too real in the moment.
It’s not just Maddie he’s leaving behind as he stares down the barrel of his mortality, it’s you too. You’ve had your own share of heartache over the years, and he doesn’t want to be the one that adds to it.
His hands slide lower, delving underneath the hem of the sweater, grasping your bare ass. He needs a distraction from these thoughts, something to chase sway the darkness that’s starting to claw it’s way through his soul again.
“How about you make me forget all about it instead?” He whispers, sliding down the headboard until he’s lying flat on the pillow. He urges you further up his chest, your thighs on either side of his head, giving him a tantalising view of that perfect pussy of yours. “How about you put your hand on the headboard and ride my face a little, show me a different kind of magic?”
“Cal.” You murmur but he’s already nuzzling his face between your thighs, his beard raking over your sensitive skin with that delicious friction. Your hand comes to rest on the headboard, fingers digging into the wood as his lips find your clit and his tongue starts to work its own magic. “This doesn’t mean we won’t talk about his later.”
He doesn’t respond, instead his grip on your ass tightens as he drags you down onto his mouth in a way that makes your head tip back as you call out his name to the stars.
Later… you promise yourself… You’ll talk after he’s ruined you.
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