Part 2 to this. Kyle offers you to John for the night (no smut). MDNI
Cw: gazlighting, manipulation, forced prostitution
Your ears tune back in, the whine receding, just in time to hear, "—and then the way he wouldn't stop downright bragging about your date last time, it finally hit me what he would enjoy for his birthday—you!"
Your eyes stay focused on his hands, chopping through vegetables, getting ready to add them to the pan. His thick fingers holding the blade steady with his strong wrist controlling the downward motion.
"I don't—Kyle—" you finally manage, voice thin before it chokes back out, as if a fist is squeezing your throat, denying you the words.
Was this happening again? Something's wrong—isn't it?
You'd had a good time with John the last time you saw him. You were beyond mortified when you realized you'd been flashing your bra at him all evening and he was too much of a gentleman to say anything. But that's the kind of man he is—respectful, kind, considerate. But you still felt . . . uneasy . . . with this.
"What's all that fussing for, babe?" he asked, concerned as he set the knife down and finally turned towards you, leaning back against the counter with his palms pressed to the edge on either side of him, emphasizing his broad shoulders while his biceps curved out from the ends of his short sleeves. He frowned, brow furrowing as he looked at you. "What's going on in that beautiful, silly little head of yours?"
You shake your head as if trying to make your thought sort into their correct place, "I just—" just what? Were being anxious? Were being purposely difficult? "don't think I want to?" you finally settled on, voice upticking at the end despite you trying to be firm.
You watch as a quick wash of—dismay?—crosses Kyle's face, there and gone in a flash before he walks over and places his hands on your shoulders, "did something happen?" he squeezed firmly, grounding, before attempting to peer into your soul, "did he do something, love?" His brow was furrowed with concern, searching your eyes for the truth, "something that made you uncomfortable?"
You looked up, franticly rushing to reassure him, "no, no nothing like that!" oh god, what if he complained to John about you? What if you made them argue and then because they were distracted, one of them ended up dead? Because of you. Because of this? Your hands raised to press against his chest, taking in his warmth, how solid he was, still alive, still with you in your home. This was still able to be fixed. "John was fine—he was great even, I promise! It's jus—"
"Good," he cuts you off in relief, not realizing you were still talking, "that's good to hear. Cap would be heartbroken if he found out he'd scared you away. He looks tough," his voice lowered as if imparting a national secret, "but he's the best out of all of us."
At least you got a new outfit out of it.
Kyle makes a great shopping buddy, he makes sure to always carry the bags and get the bill. He didn't even mention your pouting in the beginning, simply stopping by a food truck on the way to get you a treat. You were almost embarrassed by how quickly your mood did a 180.
He also normally likes everything you pick, but today—
"You don't like it?" You ask, taken aback for a moment before turning in the mirror to take another look. You though it was quite flattering when you'd first put it on. The material swished nicely as you twisted your hips, trying to look at the back of the dress and see what he saw.
Kyle scoffs almost dismissively, "that's not it, you're bloody gorgeous in everything you wear and that dress is stunning on you." You watch in the mirror as he comes up to you, wrapping his arms around you before nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. "The captain just asked if you could wear gold tonight is all."
He—he was picking out your dress too? It felt like you just ran face-first into a brick wall, a cheeping trio of birds flapping around in a circle above your head. Kyle clearly didn't see an issue and continued, "since this is a birthday dinner the brass are hosting for him, matching helps him blend in a bit better."
He wrapped his arms around you from behind, palms resting on your stomach before he pulled you firmly into him, fingers digging into any softness he could find. He began nibbling on the thin skin behind your ear as one palm crept up to pinch a nipple. When you gasped at the shock of it he pulled away to pat you on the ass, "well—blend in as much as he can with such a stunning woman on his arm."
As was apparently becoming tradition, Kyle wanted a picture of you in your new underthings. This time you were standing at the bathroom counter, just your panties and bra on while you leaned towards the mirror, finishing your hair. You had made eye contact with the phone through the mirror right as he snapped it, a wide, doe-eyed startled look being portrayed.
"—and who is this charming creature?" one of the men John had been speaking with asks, looking over to you.
John answers with subtle delight, "this stunning vision is my date for the night," not trying to hide his warm regard for you.
You closed your mouth, half-formed words bitten back behind your teeth before you smile at the man, extending a hand when he reaches out.
Fading into the background as you've been doing for most of the night, you let this most recent conversation wash over you. John had been steering you around the room with a hand pressed low on your back all evening, moving from one group to the next with ease, seeming to know everyone.
A half hour in had you surreptitiously checking John's watch. That's how long it took before you were no longer entranced by the beautiful dresses and stunning suits, admiring the women with too much jewelry and the girls standing next to men old enough to be their father. Although, you really couldn't jud—
"Of course," John said agreeingly as he turned to you, "you don't mind do you, pet?"
You scrambled to remember the last few moments of conversation, drawing a blank before John took pity on you, smiling indulgently, "our conversation is going to be too boring for those pretty ears, why don't you go find something to drink and we'll meet back up once I'm finished.
"Of course!" you reassure, not upset in the least to leave the conversation you've had no part in, "I'd love a moment to freshen up." You smile up at him, preparing to step away when he reaches a hand to the back of your neck, careful to not muss your hair.
A half-step forward as he leans towards you, gapping the distance, causes his kiss to brush the corner of your mouth rather than land on your cheek. He holds for a moment, his warm hand cupped around the back of your neck keeping you still before pulling away; a muted pop sounding as his lips left your skin.
"Have fun, sweetheart," smiling down at you, eyes warm and inviting, "you come find me later." With that commandment he turned away to fall into conversation with the two gentlemen, no longer concerned with your presence.
The door almost dented the wall when you reached the restroom and flung it open, the muted bang causing the trembling in your hands to worsen.
What was that? Why'd he kiss you at all, let alone like that? Was it an accident or did he do it on purpose?
Whirling around your brain in a fury, these thoughts all screamed for your full attention. You couldn't focus on any one emotion until dread claimed first place with the thought, what's Kyle going to think?
Your partner of years, the person you loved most . . . and his boss had kissed you. If you thought them getting into an argument before would be bad, this is going to be catastrophic. You need to tell him what happened.
But it might've been an accident. John was definitely aiming for your cheek before he moved—the adjustment skewing his trajectory. Maybe he stumbled and that was the only way to keep from falling. There were people all around, someone could have bumped into him, causing him to need to hold onto you so he didn't embarrass himself.
You were grasping at straws and you knew it but it was—technically—a possiblity so was it truly worth upsetting Kyle about it?
He would be so angry and so hurt, possibly at both you and John with how emotions sometimes work. Did you want to open that can of worms when there was a chance—however slim—that it was an accident?
What kind of person did it make you if you said no?
You blinked at your reflection, leaning down on the counter with a conflicted expression before resolve began to peek through.
No, you weren't going to tell Kyle . . . yet.
You were going to wait. You were going to wait and see how John acted the rest of the night. If he tried to push boundaries or if he, god forbid, tried to kiss you again, then you'd tell Kyle as soon as you got home. You would lay it all out for him from the beginning to the end and let him deal with it.
But if John behaved appropriately, if he didn't try to touch or kiss you, then you would assume it was an accident.
It wasn't perfect but it was a plan. How John acted would determine what you told Kyle. It was out of your hands now, you were just an observer. The relief at coming to a decision washed through you, causing the trembling to begin again before you clenched your hands tightly and took a deep breath.
You could do this—act like nothing is wrong because nothing is wrong. You're going to leave the bathroom, get a drink, and mingle for a bit until John came to find you.
With one final look in the mirror to see the determination pointed back at you, you turned to head back to the party.
It was late by the time you got home and you were exhausted. Your feet ached, you had a headache brewing behind your eyes and you were starving. Why had you done this again?
Before you could make it passed the entryway Kyle was coming into view, called by the click of the door closing. His face lighting up at seeing you home.
"There's my best girl, how did your night go darling?" he smiles as he comes over for a hug, wrapping his arms tightly around you, squeezing firmly.
You take a steadying breath, leaning into him for a moment, borrowing his strength. The whole ride home you had second guessed your bathroom decision, running through the pros and cons repeatedly. And now it was time.
"It was great love. I had a good time," you pulled back to smile at him, hoping your gaze reflected nothing but honesty.
