mirrors
basement gerard way x fem reader
authors note: hello my little love bugs, kisses n hugs tew all my sweet anons on this app that helped me come up with this basement gee valentine’s day special (especially my little 🔗+💿 anons)! there’s not much to this besides the fact that you broke up with your shitty ex a week ago and on valentine’s day, you pay your childhood best friend a visit, and he shows you how to be properly taken care of on such a special holiday wink wink… also! this is heavily inspired by the song “mirrors” by justin timberlake ;)
before you read: cursing, nicknames, angst with so much comfort, lots of tension, gee is just so needy and desperate, he takes her out or whatever, some drama, protective gee, lots of teasing and marking, they communicate!! woo!!, foreplay, gee eats her out, unprotected sex, gee is a freak, just so much fluff and aftercare, that’s all??
word count: 13,102 (how did that happen whattt)
you still weren’t sure what the hell you were doing here. exactly a week ago, you walked into your boyfriend’s apartment like any other day- keys in hand, expecting nothing more than the usual lazy bullshit- only to find a half naked girl straddling him like it was her apartment. him in his stupid briefs. laughing. oblivious.
you didn’t even remember deciding to swing your purse- just the sharp crack of it connecting with his head, the girl shrieking and scrambling back, him groaning like he had the nerve to be the victim.
you remembered laughing. a dry, ugly sound that didn’t feel like it belonged to you. spitting at him. calling him every name you held back for months. and then walking out without looking back. he tried calling nonstop. texting. apologizing. begging. you blocked him two days later.
truthfully? it hadn’t even hurt the way it probably should have. you’d been checked out long before he cheated. habit, familiarity, shitty sex- that was all it had been for a while. comfort without connection. still, the fallout left you hollow. raw. embarrassed in a way that sat under your skin.
so you disappeared. you went to work. you came home. you ignored everyone.
especially gerard.
not because he’d done anything wrong- god, never that- but because he knew you. too well. he’d always known when you were spiraling, when you were lying, when you needed help even if you wouldn’t admit it.
he hadn’t pushed. just a few missed calls. a handful of gentle, worried texts.
you okay? here if you need me. no pressure. just miss you.
that almost hurt worse.
now it was valentine’s day- cold, wet, miserable jersey rain soaking the street- and you were standing on the way family’s porch like you might actually lose your nerve and bolt.
baggy jeans. an oversized sweater you’d basically been living in. a worn denim jacket doing nothing against the bitter wind. your mascara was smudged. your eyeliner too. you definitely looked like hell. but you sucked in a shaky breath, biting your lip.
just knock. stop being dramatic.
you lifted your hand- and the door swung open immediately. you jumped. mikey nearly jumped too. he blinked at you, startled, then softened instantly. “woah- hey. you scared the shit outta me.”
you let out a nervous, breathy laugh. “sorry. i- uhm. hi.”
he looked you over with quiet concern, tone gentler now. “you okay?”
“define ‘okay,’” you muttered, forcing a small smile.
he hesitated, then stepped aside. “come in. it’s freezing out there.”
as you stepped inside, warmth rushed over you- heat, the faint smell of coffee, static from the tv somewhere deeper in the house.
mikey glanced toward the hallway. “gerard’s… uh- he’s home.”
your chest tightened just hearing his name. “yeah,” you murmured. “i figured.” from down the hall, you heard soft footsteps coming from the basement.
a familiar voice. careful. tentative.
“…mikey?”
your heart flipped as the rain was ticking against the windows, your pulse loud in your ears, and then gerard came into view. black hair a little messy. hoodie sleeves tugged over his hands. that same shy, nervous softness he always had around you.
his eyes widened when he saw you. “oh,” he breathed. “hey...”
you swallowed, meeting his gaze. “hey, gee.”
you don’t think either of you blink.
it’s been more than a week, but the second your eyes land on him, it feels like no time has passed at all- yet somehow, too much time has passed at the same time.
mikey clocks the tension immediately, lips twitching like he’s trying not to grin. he tugs his hoodie up, rocking back on his heels. “i’m gonna- uh- head out,” he says lightly. “see you guys later.”
you both mumble a distracted goodbye, eyes never leaving each other. the door shuts. silence settles. it feels loud.
gerard swallows. “hey.” your chest tightens, and your vision blurs.
you don’t even realize you’re moving until you’re already there.
“gee-”
he barely has time to react before you’re collapsing into him. his breath hitches, surprised, but his arms come around you instantly, familiar and careful- like he’s scared of holding too tight and not holding enough at the same time.
“hey- hey,” he murmurs, soft and shaky. “c’mon. i got you.” you cling harder, face buried in his shoulder as the tears finally break loose. he rocks you gently, hand warm at your back. “shit, sweetheart… what happened?”
you sniffle, shaking your head. you don’t have the energy. not yet.
he gets it.
“okay,” he whispers. “okay. y’don’t gotta tell me right now.”
a kiss brushes your temple- hesitant, almost like he’s asking permission from muscle memory. “let’s get you warm, yeah?” he says quietly. “you’re freezing.” you nod weakly.
his fingers lace with yours without even thinking about it, guiding you down the narrow basement stairs. the space is familiar- posters on the wall, scattered notebooks, the faint hum of the old heater that always takes forever to kick in.
the cold hits, and he moves faster.
“hold on,” he says, shrugging off your coat with careful hands. “god, you’re like an ice cube.”
you manage a small, tired smile as he flicks on the heater, nudges his messy bed into something passably inviting, then glances at you, suddenly shy. “you- uh. you can lie down if you want,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “i was just… doodlin’ some shit anyway.”
you shake your head. he blinks. “what’s up?” you step closer, closing the space he keeps trying to give you. his breath stutters.
your hands come up to cradle his face, thumbs warm against his jaw. “stay,” you whisper. “cuddle me, gee. please.”
his ears turn red instantly. “sugar-” he stammers. “we- we probably shouldn’t. your boyfriend-” your expression cracks, and a tear slips.
his panic is immediate. “oh- oh, shit,” he murmurs, hands finding your waist automatically. “hey- hey, i didn’t- i’m sorry-”
you rest your forehead against his shoulder, laughing weakly through the sadness. “he’s not my boyfriend anymore.”
he freezes- then he murmurs as his jaw ticks. “what did he do?” there’s a softness to the way he says it, but also something protective- like he’s already halfway to throwing hands.
you pull back just enough to look at him.
“cuddle me,” you bargain gently, “and i’ll tell you.”
for a second, he just stares.
then he huffs a nervous little laugh, hooking his pinky with yours like it’s a sacred promise. “you better,” he whispers.
you tug him toward the bed, and he hesitates for a second- like he’s scared of crossing a line- but then he gives in, settling beside you carefully, one arm tucked under your head, the other resting around your waist. you hook a leg over his hip without thinking, and his breath catches. neither of you say anything as your noses nearly brush.
he’s blushing. you can see it.
his voice comes out barely above a whisper. “you’re okay. i got you. y’hear me, sweetheart?” and the way he says it makes it feel like a promise he’s been keeping his whole life.
time stretches out in that slow, syrupy way it only ever does with him. you’re tucked against gerard’s chest, his arm looped around your waist like it’s muscle memory- like it’s always been this way, even when it couldn’t be. the heater hums in the corner. rain ticks faintly against the basement window.
everything feels quieter down here, like the world gave you two permission to breathe. he’s trying to act normal. you can tell. he keeps cracking dumb little jokes, voice soft, a little nasally when he gets excited. “so- uh,” he murmurs, fingers fidgeting at the hem of your sweater, careful not to overstep, “we almost sold out the last show. which is… insane. like, actually insane. i still feel like we’re gonna get kicked out of venues for loitering.”
you snort lightly, tilting your head to look up at him. “you guys are good, why are you shocked?”
he scrunches his nose. “i don’t know, probably ‘cause mentally, i’m still the dude who got booed in shitty basements.”
you smile, brushing your thumb over his sideburns. “you earned that booing.”
he laughs, breath warm against your hair. “i really did, huh?” he tells you about new lyrics, about a comic idea he’s been sketching- something apocalyptic and messy and heartfelt. you tease him about overworking himself. he teases you about your music taste. it feels normal. familiar. safe.
but every now and then, his nose brushes yours by accident, and neither of you pull away. you reach up without thinking, brushing a thumb lightly over the bridge of his tiny nose. “you’re still doing that thing,” you murmur.
he stills. “what thing?”
“pretending you don’t know you’re cute.”
his face goes pink instantly. “i- what? no-”
you grin. “relax. m’not gonna bite.”
“…you have bitten me before,” he mutters.
“on purpose.”
he huffs a laugh, but his arm tightens around you just a little, like he can’t help it. eventually, the jokes fade. the air shifts. you take a breath that feels heavier than the others. “gee… i should probably tell you why i disappeared.”
his chest rises under your cheek. you feel him tense- not away from you, just… bracing. “yeah,” he says quietly. “only if you wanna.”
you swallow, then tell him. about walking in, the girl, the purse, the way you laughed after, because crying would’ve shattered you. you don’t realize you’re shaking until his hand cups your hip more firmly, grounding you.
by the time you finish, his jaw is tight, eyes dark with something hot and protective. “that fuckin’ bastard,” gerard mutters, voice low.
you snort weakly. “gee, don’t start plotting a crime.”
“i’m not plotting,” he says immediately. “i’m… emotionally storyboardin’.”
you laugh despite the tears, nudging his chest. “you are not fighting him.”
he exhales through his nose, then softens, pressing a kiss to your forehead- gentle, reverent, like you’re something fragile and sacred. “look at you,” he murmurs. “walkin’ away. not takin’ his crap. that’s… really strong, y’know.”
you roll your eyes lightly. “he had it coming.”
“he really did,” gerard admits. then, quieter, softer. “and i’m proud of you.”
you settle more fully into him, resting your cheek over his heart.
he rubs slow circles over your hip and thigh without even realizing he’s doing it, like he’s rememorizing the shape of you. “m’not gonna go beat him up,” he says after a second. “although i really fuckin’ want to.”
“thank you,” you murmur.
“but if he ever tries anything again,” he adds, “he’s gettin’ his ass whooped one way or another.”
you smile, eyes heavy now. “my hero.”
he chuckles under his breath. “right?” silence settles again- and you yawn before you can stop it. gerard smiles softly, pressing his chin to the top of your head. “get some sleep, yeah? y’look like you haven’t rested in a year.”
“only if you stay,” you murmur.
his breath stutters just slightly. “of course, honey. m’not goin’ anywhere.”
you drift off like that- curled together, warm, hearts doing all the talking neither of you is brave enough to say out loud yet. time drifts as you eventually wake up slowly, like your body’s floating back into itself. the first thing you notice is warmth- steady, familiar, grounding.
gerard’s still there, pressed close behind you, one arm heavy around your waist, his hand warm on your hip beneath your sweater. his thumb traces lazy, absent little circles like he never stopped, even in his sleep. then there’s the soft brush of his lips against your hairline. you whine quietly and tuck closer, nuzzling into his neck.
he lets out a sleepy laugh that vibrates through his chest. “c’mon, sleeping beauty,” he murmurs, voice low and rough with sleep. “time t’wake up.”
you crack one eye open and tilt your head back just enough to glare at him, unimpressed. “why?” you mumble. “m’not doing anything today. i’m retiring. this is my life now.” your thumb drifts along his jaw, tracing the faint scratch of stubble. you feel his breath hitch- barely noticeable, but you catch it. his ears tint pink.
he tries to play it off with a soft chuckle. “i mean… i wouldn’t complain,” he admits, shy. “but aren’t you hungry, sugar?”
you open your mouth to say no- and your stomach betrays you with a loud, traitorous growl. you freeze, he freezes- then you both burst out laughing.
“wow,” he breathes, amused. “guess your stomach’s got opinions.”
you groan and elbow his chest lightly. “shut up.”
he laughs harder, tugging you closer again before rubbing your stomach gently- just for a second, before his hand slides back to your hip, where it clearly prefers to stay. “that little tummy answered for ya,” he teases softly.
you sit up with a dramatic sigh, pushing messy hair out of your face. the room feels hazy and warm, like the kind of afternoon you wish you could bottle. gerard follows you up, still close, still careful, like he doesn’t want to startle you out of staying.
he presses a light kiss into your hair. “i can order takeout,” he offers gently. “or we can go somewhere. i just-” his voice softens, quieter, more honest, “i jus’ wanna see you eat, sweetheart.” you turn toward him, suddenly shy in a way that feels new and old at the same time. you fidget with your hands, and he immediately reaches out, lacing his fingers through yours.
his thumbs rub slow, reassuring circles over your knuckles as he tilts his head. “what’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours, huh?”
you swallow, cheeks warming. “would you maybe take me out?” you mumble. “like- on a real date. i know it’s valentine’s day, which is… dumb timing, but-”
he cuts you off instantly, smiling wide, flustered but glowing. “that ain’t dumb,” he says quickly. “that’s- actually- i was kinda hopin’ you’d say that.” you blink, and he laughs under his breath, shy but bold at the same time. “didn’t wanna overstep. didn’t wanna make it weird.”
“it’s already weird,” you say softly.
“yeah,” he agrees, fond. “but it’s our kind of weird.” his hands slide naturally to your hips as you end up straddling him without even realizing how it happened. like magnets. like muscle memory. he looks at you like he can’t believe he’s allowed to.
“remember that chinese buffet by the movie theater?” he asks.
your face brightens. “god, yeah. we used to destroy that place.”
he grins. “wanna go? stuff ourselves with bad food and then sneak into a movie?”
you smooth your thumbs along his sideburns, smiling when you see his ears turn pink again. “sounds perfect, gee.”
he exhales, relieved and happy. “yeah? cool- that’s cool.” then, softer. “m’really glad you’re here.”
you smile. “me too.”
he reluctantly shifts, easing you off him so he can stand, already grumbling playfully. “can’t take you out lookin’ homeless, though.”
you flop back dramatically onto his bed. “but y’look so cute in your star wars pajamas,”
he laughs, looking at you like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen. “to you, sweetheart, but probably not to a bunch of old ass motherfuckers we’re gonna have to see in public.”
you hum, a low, contented sound in the quiet of his room, and watch him slowly undress. you’ve seen him a thousand times, but tonight, every movement feels loaded, intimate. a flush creeps up your neck as his bare, soft chest comes into view, the lamplight catching the faint trail of hair that disappears below his waistband. his biceps, thick and defined, bulge slightly as he tosses his black sweatshirt over the back of his desk chair.
then his fingers hook into the waistband of his star wars pajama pants. you bite your lip hard to stifle a gasp as he shimmies them down his hips. his pretty, round ass comes into view, followed by his thick, distracting thighs. honest to god, you could write poetry about those thighs.
he shuffles over to his closet, sleepily ruffling his pretty, jet black greasy hair. his face is slightly flushed, and he hums tunelessly, arms crossed as he studies the contents of his closet like it holds the secrets of the universe.
you can’t help but laugh as you crawl off the bed, the comforter rustling softly as you make your way towards him. he grumbles at the closet, his voice a low, frustrated mutter. “i seriously can’t dress myself for shit.”
you laugh again, scooting in front of him. his hands immediately find their home on your hips, his touch warm and grounding, but there’s a new desperation to it, a slight tremor you can feel through your sweater. you hum, already looking into the dark abyss of his wardrobe. “and that’s why m’here,” you tease, your voice light. “to save your sorry ass.”
he chuckles, the sound a warm puff of air against your shoulder as he rests his chin there. “my hero…” his voice is thin, breathy. he presses closer, his whole body molding against yours, and you can feel the frantic thrum of his heart against your back. “y’feel so good,” he whispers, almost to himself.
you force yourself to focus, moving through the hung up shirts, your fingers skimming over the dark fabric until you hum in triumph. “ahh, would you look at that.” you pull out a worn black mötley crüe shirt, the faded print cracked and peeling.
he laughs, a genuine, bright sound that’s a little too loud, a little too eager. “jesus, i thought i lost that shit years ago.”
you smile, briefly turning back to him. you let your nails gently scratch his jaw, and his eyelashes flutter shut, a soft, choked sigh escaping him. you turn back to the closet, feeling him pull you flush against him, his face burying in the crook of your neck. he inhales deeply, like he’s trying to breathe you in. you try not to melt, to ignore the way your whole body seems to hum with awareness of him. you continue your search, pulling out his infamous worn leather jacket.
then, you bend down to scan the jeans piled on the closet floor. it’s absolutely on purpose.
the reaction is immediate as he lets out a sharp, pained hiss, his hands clamping down on your hips like a vise. he goes completely still, his breath held, before he lets it out in a shaky, ragged groan. “jesus, sugar… don’t- don’t do that.”
you decide to play dumb as you stand back up slowly, holding a pair of jeans and inspecting them with mock seriousness. “what?” you turn your head to look at him, blinking innocently. then you give him a sweet, disarming smile. “these are bootcut, right?”
he whimpers, the sound muffled as he presses his face harder into your neck. “mhm…” his hands are roaming now, sliding up and down your sides, restless and needy.
you smile again, a private, victorious little thing. you press the bundle of clothes into his arms and give him a gentle push towards the bed. “go on, get dressed.”
he stumbles back a step, looking utterly wrecked. “you’re gonna be the death of me, i swear,” he grumbles, his voice thick and desperate. you ignore that, a thrill shooting through you.
you pick up his black heeled boots and the silver bat belt buckle from his dresser, making your way towards him as he pulls the shirt over his head. it hangs just right, the sleeves hugging his biceps in a way that should be illegal. he shimmies into the tight bootcut jeans, the dark denim molding to his legs, and then slides on the leather jacket. he looks unreal.
he laughs, a breathy, awestruck sound as you stand there, holding the boots and belt with eagerness. he raises his brows, gently taking the belt from you. “y’really like this belt on me, huh?” you smirk, placing the boots on the floor.
he buckles it with an easy, practiced motion, the silver bat glinting from the soft glow of the lamp across the room. the sight is dizzying. he slides into his boots as you kneel on the edge of the bed, and jesus, does he look good. the shirt is tucked in just right, accentuating the silver buckle at his hips.
he pulls his boots on, then turns his full attention to you. he reaches out, dragging you closer by the hips until you’re face to face, his hands warm and strong. he tilts his head, his dark eyes searching yours, wide and pleading. without thinking, your hands come up to play with the soft, greasy strands of his hair at the nape of his neck. he leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut, a soft, needy groan rumbling in his chest.
he’s so close you can feel the warmth of his breath on your lips, his eyes wide and pleading. every nerve in your body screams at you to just close the tiny distance, to kiss him until you can’t breathe. but you shouldn’t. not yet. you just broke up with your shitty ex last week, and this is gerard. this is your best friend. you shakily sigh, a tremor running through you as you lean in, but you divert at the last second, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek.
he mirrors your uneven breath against your skin, his whole body seeming to deflate with a mix of relief and frustration. he’s trying to keep it together for you, too. you pull back, pouting to cover the tremble in your own lips. “wish i could dress up. i look like a slob.”
he coos softly, tutting as his hands come up to cradle your face. you cling to the front of his leather jacket, your knuckles white. he tilts his head, a shy blush creeping up his neck as he murmurs, “hey, none of that, sweetheart. you’re the prettiest fuckin’ girl i know.”
you can’t help but smirk as he blushes harder, stuttering slightly as he rushes to continue. “and- and your makeup? the smudged look is… it’s pretty fuckin’ hot. and your outfit? i love seein’ you wear comfy shit. makes me all warm and fuzzy knowin’ you’re all warm and fuzzy.” you laugh, and he laughs with you, a bright, happy sound. you lean into him, sighing contentedly as his arms tighten around your waist, holding you close as he hums. “ready t’go? wanna see you eat.”
“lemme just look somewhat decent first,” you murmur. he rolls his eyes, a pretty, dramatic gesture, and grunts as he reluctantly lets you go. you pad over to his small attached bathroom, and of course, he follows, his presence a warm, comforting shadow behind you. you flip on the light and mutter a curse at your reflection. your hair is a mess, and your mascara is smudged under your eyes from earlier.
gerard’s hands find your hips again, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder. you both stare at your reflections in the mirror. “you find this crazy shit hot? gee, seriously…”
he smirks, sighing dreamily. “what? jus’ keepin’ it real, sugar.” you grunt, swiping your fingers under your eyes, sweeping away the worst of the tear stains and making the smudged liner look more intentional and less like you were having a breakdown. you try to tame your wild hair, thanking god that the leftover dark lipstick on your lips is still somehow intact.
“okay,” you say, turning in his arms. “jacket.” he grins, grabbing your worn denim jacket from the back of his door. you turn around, and he holds it open for you. you slide your arms in, and he pulls it up over your shoulders, his knuckles brushing against your neck. you flush at the simple, intimate gesture. he then crouches down, helping you step into your worn out converse, tying them for you with a focus that makes your chest ache.
he then takes your hand, guiding you up the creaky basement stairs and out into the rainy, cold night. the air is crisp and smells like wet pavement. he opens the passenger door of his beat up car for you like a gentleman, waiting until you’re settled before jogging around to the driver’s side.
the drive is warm and fuzzy, charged with a silent, buzzing tension. the inside of his car is a small, private thing, shielded from the rain streaking down the windows. you can’t stop looking at him- the way his hands grip the steering wheel, the way his hair falls into his eyes, the way his profile is illuminated by the streetlights.
“pick somethin’,” he murmurs, nodding toward the messy stack of cd’s in the glove compartment. you flip through them, your fingers brushing against his as he reaches over to steady the pile. you settle on a mix he made you years ago, and the opening chords of a song you both love fills the car. he backs out of his driveway, one hand casually thrown over the back of your seat as he turns to look out the rear window. god, he’s so hot it’s almost unfair.
he keeps glancing over at you as he drives, a soft, adoring smile on his face. every time he does, you playfully tease, “eyes on the road, way- you’re gonna hit a deer,”
he laughs with you, a shy but confident sound that makes your stomach flip. “oh c’mon, sugar- i can drive this route with my eyes closed and sense those fuckers from a mile away at this point.” finally, you pull into the sprawling, brightly lit parking lot of the strip mall. the chinese buffet and movie theater are swarming with people, a sea of cars and headlights. gerard navigates the chaos with practiced ease, muttering under his breath about the terrible drivers.
he finds a spot at the far end of the lot, cutting the engine.
the sudden silence is heavy, broken only by the sound of the rain and the final notes of a song. he doesn’t move to get out. he just turns to you, his expression open and vulnerable, and looks at you for a long second.
his stare is honestly kind of dizzying, a silent, heavy thing that makes your heart hammer against your ribs. to break it, you shakily sigh, taking his larger hand in yours. your thumbs rub over his knuckles, and you let his hand rest on your thigh. his breath stutters, a sharp, audible hitch in the quiet car. “what’s wrong, gee?” you murmur.
he hums, his gaze dropping to your intertwined hands before flicking back up to your face. “jus’ tryin’ t’be a gentleman and not fuck this up for you…”
you gulp, a smirk playing on your lips as you rest your head against the headrest. you bring his hand up to your mouth, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. he nearly moans, a low, guttural sound, especially when he sees the faint mark your lipstick leaves behind.
“jesus fuck, baby,” he groans, the unfamiliar nickname falling from his lips so easily it makes you whine. he unbuckles his seatbelt with a sharp, urgent click. he’s out of the car and at your door in a second, opening it with a wicked, knowing grin. he bows theatrically, taking your hand. “m’lady.”
you laugh, shaking your head as you drag him back up by his leather jacket. he’s on you in an instant, his hands firm on your hips as he kicks the door shut behind you. the click of the lock sounds final, loud in the rainy night. he’s so needy, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath coming in ragged pants. you play with his hair, and he whines. “please tell me t’be patient, or i swear-”
you laugh breathlessly, the sound turning into a gasp as he groans into your neck, pressing a hot, open mouthed kiss there. you hum, scratching his scalp. “gotta be patient, gee. you’re taking me out and everything.”
he whimpers, a pathetic, desperate sound that goes straight to your core. he gives your neck one last, lingering kiss before dragging himself back, a shy, apologetic smile on his face. he tugs you into his side easily, his arm staying firmly around your waist. you tuck your hands into your pockets against the chill as he kisses your cheek, murmuring as he guides you towards the buffet entrance. “m’gonna freak the fuck out if this kiss mark smudges off.”
you laugh, leaning up to press a kiss to his sideburns. he opens the door for you, and a wave of warmth and the overwhelming smell of lo mein and fried rice hits you. his arm finds your waist again, a steady, possessive weight as he pulls you inside. the hostess, a bored looking teenager with too much eyeliner, sighs and points with her pen. “two of you? it’ll be about a twenty minute wait.”
gerard just nods, tugging you down to sit on the bench right next to him. he keeps his arm firmly around your waist, a solid, warm anchor in the bustling entryway. you fidget, your fingers finding his free hand. you’re distracted by it, by the sheer girth and largeness of it compared to your smaller one. you trace the veins on the back of his hand, and you feel his low chuckle more than you hear it. “what’s up?” he murmurs, his lips brushing your temple.
“nothing,” you mumble. “your hands are just… big.”
he grins, a wicked, proud thing. he turns his hand over, lacing his fingers with yours. “yeah? they could swallow yours whole.” he squeezes your hand, and you feel a flutter low in your stomach. you’re so wrapped up in him you almost don’t notice the eyes on you. but then you do. two girls a few feet away, whispering and staring right at gerard. one of them has a band tshirt on from a local show he played last month.
gerard follows your gaze and sighs, a small, tired smile on his face. “small world, huh? bound to happen in shitty jersey. don’t worry about it,” he soothes, his thumb stroking your side. “they’re just lookin’. m’right here.”
before you can dwell on it, the hostess calls you two. the waitress guides you to a small booth in the corner, plopping down two menus. “what can i get you to drink? and just so you know, if there’s nothing you like at the buffet, you can order off the menu.”
“i’ll take a coke,” gerard says, his eyes already on you.
you smile politely. “just water for me, thanks.” the waitress nods and disappears.
gerard laughs as he stands, holding out a hand for you. “c’mon.” he pulls you up and guides you towards the buffet. “i swear, some things never change. remember when we were kids at those barbecues? all of us chuggin’ shitty kool aid, and you’d be there with your little cup of water.”
you pout, swatting his arm. “hey! i’m not boring. i just… love water. it’s refreshing.”
“you’re refreshing,” he says softly, and you flush. he leans in, kissing your temple. “alright, go get your stuff. i’ll get my… deep fried shit. meet you back at the table?”
you nod, watching him walk away before turning to the long line of heated trays. you grab a plate, piling it with steamed dumplings and broccoli, trying to ignore the happy chaos around you. you’re about to reach for the serving spoon for the lo mein when another hand reaches for it at the exact same time.
you both stop, looking up. and holy shit- no fucking way.
it’s your ex boyfriend.
“woah, y/n? what are you doing here?” he asks, his voice dripping with a fake surprise that makes your skin crawl.
you huff out a dry, humorless laugh, about to just walk away. “how is that any of your business?”
and then she shows up next to him. the girl he cheated on you with. how lovely. she plasters on a sickly sweet smile. “oh, purse girl, how’ve you been?”
you see red. every ounce of composure you have evaporates. you smile back, sharp and mocking. “oh, sloppy seconds girl. great seeing you.”
her mouth falls open in a perfect ‘o’ of shock. she lets out a little gasp, freaking the fuck out. “oh my god, did you hear what she just called me?!”
your ex tries to shush her, looking around nervously as she starts to make a scene, her voice rising. you don’t wait to hear more. you turn on your heel and storm away, your plate clutched in your hand. you find your booth and slide in, your heart hammering, a hot, angry shame washing over you. you’re about to spiral, your eyes stinging, when gerard appears.
he’s ranting about something, some guy who cut in front of him for the crab rangoon. “i mean, who the fuck just does that? there’s a line, buddy, it’s not the wild fuckin’ west-” he slides into the booth across from you, but then he stops. he sees it. he sees your expression, the way you’re gripping your plate like a lifeline, the fury and hurt warring in your eyes.
“shit, honey,” he says, his voice dropping instantly. in one smooth, fluid motion, he pushes his own plate next to yours, stands, and slides into the booth right next to you, his body a solid, protective wall against the rest of the cruel world as his arm wraps around your waist. he doesn’t say anything at first, just lets you sit there, his presence a quiet, steady force against the chaos in your head. he gently takes the plate from your trembling hands and sets it on the table.
“okay,” he says softly, his voice low and calm. “talk t’me. what happened?”
you take a shaky breath, the anger and humiliation still burning hot. “he was here,” you grit out, your voice tight. “and… her.”
gerard’s entire body tenses. you feel it in the arm around you, the way his jaw clenches. “where?”
“at the buffet,” you say, staring at the condensation on your water glass. “they were… together. and she called me ‘purse girl.’ so i called her ‘sloppy seconds girl.’”
a slow, dangerous smile spreads across gerard’s face, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. his eyes are dark and hard. “good,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “she deserved worse.”
you finally look at him, and the sincerity in his expression makes your chest ache. “she made a scene. everyone was looking.”
“let those bored ass fuckers look,” he says, his thumb stroking your arm soothingly. “fuck ‘em. you’re not the one who cheated. you’re not the one who showed up to a chinese buffet with your side piece. you did nothin’ wrong, sugar.”
you lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder. “it just ruined everything.”
“hey,” he says, gently tilting your chin up to look at him. “it didn’t ruin shit. we’re still here. i’m still here. and i’m havin’ a great time, ‘cause i’m with you.” he glances over at the buffet line, his eyes narrowing for a second before he looks back at you, his expression softening again. “he’s gone. they left. he can’t bother you anymore.”
you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “really?”
“really,” he confirms. “now, are you gonna eat those dumplings, or do i have to force feed you? ‘cause i will.”
a small, watery laugh escapes you. “you’re such a jerk.”
“yeah, but i’m your jerk,” he says, his smirk finally reaching his eyes. he picks up a dumpling from your plate and holds it to your lips. “now, open up. we’ve got a movie to get to after this, and i’m not lettin’ you go on an empty stomach.”
the rest of the meal is a blur of warmth and laughter. every time you crack a joke, gerard leans in, his laugh a low, genuine rumble in his chest. he kisses your cheek, your temple, your jaw- any bit of skin he can reach, a constant, affectionate pressure. he finds any excuse to keep you close, his hand resting on your thigh under the table, his thumb stroking lazy circles.
when you tell a story about something ridiculous that happened at work, he listens with his entire being, his eyes locked on yours, and then shares one back, making you laugh until your sides hurt. it’s so refreshing, so easy- you honestly forgot how good it felt to have your best friend back like this, to have all his attention, all his warmth, focused entirely on you.
before you know it, he’s coaxing you out of the booth after having subtly paid the check while you were in the bathroom. the night air whips around you as you step outside, the drizzle having finally subsided. you whine, pulling your jacket tighter. “gee, can we at least split it? i got extra cash on me-”
he lets out a short, disbelieving laugh, as if you’ve just suggested the most insane thing in the world. he stops walking, tugging you into him with a smirk. his hands find your hips easily, and your arms loop around his neck instinctively. he tilts his head down, his dark eyes glinting under the streetlights. “you’re kiddin’ me, right?” he kisses your temple, his lips warm. “y’really think i’m gonna let you pay a penny on this shit?”
you groan, and he laughs again, easily steering you away from the main entrance and down the sidewalk. he sneakily guides you around the side of the building. “baby, i’m treatin’ you tonight, and you’re dealin’ with it, hmm?”
you roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. you let out a small gasp as he suddenly pushes you gently down a narrow alleyway, laughing softly. you murmur, slightly startled but following him easily as he keeps a firm arm around you. “gee, you’ve done this before, haven’t you?”
he grins, a wicked flash of teeth in the dim light. “don’t yell at me, but i’ve done this shit loads of times with the guys. it’s a shortcut.”
you groan, going to rub your lips together out of habit, then sigh when you realize you don’t feel the usual waxy texture. he lifts his brows with a knowing grin. “missin’ something?”
“yeah,” you sigh. “i guess the rest of my lipstick came off eating.” he hums, his eyes never leaving yours as he fishes something out of the inner pocket of his leather jacket. when his hand comes into view, you laugh with a gasp. it’s your old lipstick tube- the one you left in his jacket pocket on accident over a year ago. it’s your favorite dark shade, too.
“holy shit, gee! you kept it in there?” you murmur, taking it from him. you apply it blindly with practiced ease, the familiar motion comforting.
he seems lost in watching you, his gaze heavy on your mouth. he hums, “‘course i kept it, sugar. it’s my lucky charm.” you flush, the heat creeping up your neck as you snap the tube shut, handing it back to him as he tucks it back into its spot- your heart doing a frantic little dance in your chest.
but before you have time to process his words, he’s pouncing. your eyes widen with a gasp as he gently pins you to the cool brick wall of the alley. one hand flies up to cradle the back of your head, protecting it from the rough surface, while the other grips your hip. a surprised laugh bubbles up from your chest, and your arms easily slide around his neck, pulling him closer as your fingers tangle in his soft hair. “gee! what the hell-”
he laughs too, a low, breathy sound, and nuzzles into the crook of your neck. his hand slides back down from your head to your waist, pulling you flush against him. he groans, the sound vibrating against your skin. “sorry, baby- jus’ can’t help it.”
before you can stutter out a response, you feel his soft lips brush against your skin. you moan, eagerly arching your neck to give him better access. he hums in approval, pressing hot, open mouthed kisses to your pulse point and all the sensitive spots that make your toes curl. he’s moaning too, a quiet, desperate sound that goes straight to your clit.
then his hands slide down, cupping the backs of your thighs. you gasp as he easily lifts you, your legs automatically tightening around his hips. you feel dizzy, the world tilting on its axis. you truly had no idea what your best friend was capable of, and this glimpse of him being so intimate, so dominant, makes you want to bend over and let him have you right here. you stutter. “gee, mm- what’re you-”
he just murmurs, shushing you softly, his voice a dazed babble against your neck. “shh, lemme jus’ give you one hickey- jus’ one- please, honey?”
you can’t form words, so you just mewl, pulling him closer by a fistful of his hair. he groans, his hips accidentally bucking into your pulsing clit, the friction of denim against denim making your head spin. you manage to stutter, “okay- jus’- don’t make it too big- oh-” he’s already diving in.
he sucks the sensitive flesh into his mouth, dizzying, rhythmic pulls as if you taste incredible. he moans into your skin, and you clutch him tighter, your jaw falling slack. your clit pulses in time with the pulls he’s tugging on your neck. you tug his hair, and he pulls back with a wet pop, immediately laving his tongue over the mark in a soft apology.
he looks up at you with a wicked smirk, his eyes glazed over and dark under the streetlights. the pale moonlight paints his cherubic face in silvers and blues, and he looks like a dream. you nearly whimper from the sight, wanting to cry from the sheer intimacy of what you’re feeling for him. “gee, you’re so- mm!”
he cuts you off, pressing a hot, searing kiss to the corner of your mouth- not your lips, but close enough that you melt into him completely. he pulls back with a raspy laugh, pressing another kiss to your chin, teasing you. he hums, “m’so what, baby? use those words.”
you groan in frustration, and he laughs fondly, a deep, warm sound. he places you back down on your feet, his hands remaining firmly on your hips. you keep your arms around his neck, glaring up at him playfully. he just smirks, kissing a trail along your temple and cheek as you huff. “lemme get your neck too, dumbass.”
his eyebrows shoot up, and he pulls you into him immediately, that need and desperation even more present now. he teases, “yeah? mark me up then, sweetheart.”
you nearly fold at that. he arches his neck for you, holding you impossibly close. you press a hot, open mouthed kiss to his thick, pale, pretty neck, and he moans, a low, guttural sound, keeping you firm in place. “jesus fuck, baby, gonna leave those kiss marks, huh?”
you hum in response, pressing another lingering kiss right next to the first, leaving two perfect, dark lipstick marks on his skin. you pull back, and he looks down at you, pressing his forehead to yours. he lets out a strangled laugh, as if he’s holding something back. “you’re truly gonna be the fuckin’ death of me.”
you grin, feeling powerful and giddy. “let’s go, romeo.”
he hums, his voice thick with a rasp. “yes ma’am.” he keeps an arm around your waist, dragging you the rest of the way down the alley to the back door of the movie theater.
he leads you to a heavy steel door, unmarked and tucked away in the shadows. with a practiced ease that makes you shake your head and laugh, he pulls a small, bent piece of metal from his pocket. a soft click echoes in the quiet alley as he fucks with the lock, and the door swings open into darkness. “what is this?” you whisper as he guides you inside, the air cool and smelling of dust.
“top secret storage closet,” he jokes, his voice a low murmur against your ear.
as soon as the door clicks shut behind you, the world goes black. the sudden, complete darkness is a catalyst. before you can even think, you’re on him. you pull him down hard, your hands fisting in the worn leather of his jacket, desperate for anything, for everything. he gasps, a soft laugh turning into a groan as your lips find his neck.
he presses hot, open mouthed kisses to your skin in return, murmuring between them how badly he wants you, how unreal you are, how he’s trying so hard to be good for you. his lips ghost over yours, so close but not quite touching, and you’re both panting in the suffocating, wonderful dark.
you pull back, your own breath ragged. “you’re not being very good right now, gee.”
he groans, a sound of pure frustration, and tugs you back toward the door. “okay, hypocrite. wait here.” he cracks it open just a sliver, peering out into the brightly lit hallway. a slow, wicked grin spreads across his face as he looks back at you. you giggle, and he laughs too, a soft sound. in one swift motion, he pulls you into the hall and shuts the door behind you both. his hands immediately find your hips, anchoring you. your giggling makes him hum, tilting his head. “what’s so funny, baby, hmm?”
you press your thumb to his soft cheek, right over the dark lipstick mark you accidentally left. you deliberately smudge it. he immediately gets all pouty. “hey! why’re you smudgin’ it? that was my lucky charm!”
“‘cause it looks stupid,” you say, a playful smirk on your face.
he groans, catching your hand and lacing his fingers with yours. “y’better not touch the ones on my neck.” he tugs you down the hall toward the muffled sounds of the movies, his body a warm presence behind you. “hmm, let’s see where these fuckers are screamin’ the most?”
you sputter. “gee, we are not seeing a scary movie-”
and then you hear it. a cacophony of jarring sound effects and the piercing, collective scream of an audience. your eyes widen as you look back just in time to see gerard’s smirk turn wicked. he gives you a gentle, undeniable push in that direction. “well, that was easy.”
you groan, letting him pull you into his side, his arm a firm hold around your waist. “gee, i’m gonna get no sleep tonight.”
“don’t worry, baby,” he jokes, his voice a low rumble. “i’ll protect you from the scary little monsters.”
he leads you into the dark theater, his eyes already scanning the rows. he tugs you up the stairs to the upper back section, the furthest from the screen, where no one is sitting. he pulls you down into the plush seat right next to him, and you’re practically latched onto him for the entire duration of whatever film this is. every time the music swells, you bury your face in his neck and shoulder, whining and screaming right along with the rest of the audience.
he just watches you with a huge, adoring grin, laughing and teasing you gently. “sugar, it’s just a dummy,” he whispers during a particularly gory scene, kissing your forehead as you whimper.
“it’s not a dummy, it’s a possessed demon child!” he just laughs, pressing a soft kiss to your temple whenever you hide your face.
the movie ends abruptly- it makes sense, considering you probably walked in during the final act. the lights come up, and you groan, standing up and stretching. he teases you relentlessly as you walk out, mimicking your little screams with startling accuracy. “you’re such an asshole,” you whine, swatting his arm.
“but i’m your asshole,” he sing songs, slinging an arm around you again as you walk back into the main lobby.
you lean your head against his shoulder, a wave of exhaustion hitting you all at once. “gee, m’so sleepy.”
“yeah?” he murmurs, kissing the top of your head. “good. means you’ll sleep like a baby tonight.”
the walk back to his car is quiet, the cool night air doing little to soothe the buzzing energy between you. he stops by the passenger door, turning to face you. the streetlights catch the nervous flush on his cheeks, and he shoves his hands in his pockets, looking suddenly shy. “so, uh…” he starts, his voice a little rough. “y’wanna… sleep at my place tonight?”
a laugh bubbles out of you, bright and disarming. “of course i do, gee.” you close the small distance between you, tugging him into you by the front of his jacket. you press a soft, deliberate kiss to his cheek, right over the smudged lipstick mark, leaving a new, perfect one in its place. his eyes widen in surprise, but then a slow, wicked smirk spreads across his face.
he crowds you against the cool metal of the car door, caging you in with his arms. you laugh as he begins to kiss along your jawline, but it turns into a breathy moan when he trails down to your neck, his mouth hot and desperate against your skin. you can feel how much he wants you, a desperate need that mirrors your own. eventually, you manage to pull him back up by his hair, your own breathing ragged. “y’gotta have patience, gee,” you tease softly.
he hums, a weak, defeated sound. “m’tryin’.” but he’s still the gentleman. he takes a step back, opens your door, and kisses your knuckles with exaggerated theatrics before helping you in. you laugh as he leans over you to grab the seatbelt, his movements comically slow and deliberate as he buckles you in.
the ride back is charged with a tension so thick you could taste it. he keeps a large, warm hand on your thigh the entire time, his thumb tracing mindless patterns on your jeans. you rest your hand on his, lacing your fingers together, the simple contact sending sparks through you. the silence isn’t empty- it’s filled with everything you’re not saying, every look, every touch, a promise of what’s to come.
before you know it, you’re back. the ride was tense in the best way, a delicious, simmering build of anticipation. he practically throws the car into park, shutting off the engine with a sharp twist of the key. he’s out of his door and at yours in a heartbeat, opening it and practically dragging you out and up the walkway as you laugh, stumbling to keep up with him.
his arm is wrapped firmly around your waist, pure heat and urgency as he drags you the last few feet to his front door. you laugh into his chest, the sound swallowed by his jacket. “gee! you need patience!”
“patience is for saints, baby,” he hums, blindly unlocking the door with practiced ease. he noses at your neck, pressing a hot, open mouthed kiss there that makes your knees buckle as he coaxes you inside. the door kicks shut behind you, the lock clicking with a sound of finality. he guides you backward into the dimly lit hallway, a smirk playing on his lips as his hands find your hips. you loop your arms around his neck, pulling him down until you’re panting against each other’s mouths.
“can’t fuckin’ help it anymore,” he rasps, pressing another searing kiss to your jaw. he pulls back with a shaky exhale, his dark eyes searching yours. he takes your hand, intertwining your fingers, and a shy, hopeful smile graces his face. “come downstairs with me?”
you smirk, following him easily. “why of course.” you two giggle like idiots as he guides you down the familiar steps to his room. and that’s when it really hits you, a wave of cold clarity washing over the warmth. are you really gonna fuck your best friend? you want to, god, you really do, but is that fair to him? is it fair to drag him into the messy aftermath of your own heartbreak? the anxiety claws at your throat the farther you descend, each step taking you deeper into a territory you’re not sure you’re ready for.
before you know it, you’re back in his dimly lit room, the air thick with unspoken history. he turns to you, a shy, hesitant look on his face as he gently crowds your space, his hands firm on your hips. your hands come up to card through his hair, and you bite down the anxiety. you have to set the record straight. his nose brushes along yours, and you murmur, “gee, can i be clear with you?”
his eyes briefly widen, a flash of panic in them, but he swallows it down and nods. “of course, honey.”
you hum, kissing his cheek again before resting your chin on his shoulder. he melts into you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he gently rocks the two of you. “i want y’to know that i really do wanna kiss you,” you begin, your voice soft but steady. “shit, i wanna do everything with you. not because i want to be distracted.” you pull back slightly to look up at him. he’s blushing, clearly trying to hold himself together. you continue, your thumb sweeping over his sideburns as he melts into you even more.
“but because i love you. i can’t believe i’m saying this, but… i think i always had feelings for you. even when i thought i didn’t. that’s probably why i never felt satisfied with… him…” you nervously look away, feeling terrifyingly exposed, but before you can elaborate, his hand finds your chin, gently turning you back to face him.
you flush as that devastating confidence radiates off him again. he rasps, a smirk on his face as he presses a soft kiss to your jaw. “baby, y’don’t gotta tell me your reasons. shit- if it ain’t clear, i’ve been in love with ya since we were in fuckin’ diapers.”
you both break out laughing at that, the tension shattering. he continues, his voice defensive but full of affection. “i’m serious! and truly, even if this was a distraction- i’d take any opportunity to be with you. but thank fuck that ain’t the situation-”
but you cut him off. you can’t take it anymore. you pull him down harder, your hand fisting in his hair as his other hand finds your hip again, holding you impossibly close. you’re panting. “gee-”
he gulps, his voice a low groan. “yeah, sugar?”
you pull him until your lips are a breath apart. “kiss me. right fucking now.”
his breath stutters. for a second, you truly think his brain has short circuited. then he snaps out of it with a guttural moan, surging forward and crashing his lips against yours in a desperate, hungry kiss. “fuck- okay,” he groans against your mouth.
the way he kisses you is dizzying. there’s a hint of inexperience, a slight fumbling that’s so endearingly gerard, but it doesn’t matter. because the way he picks up on every little thing that makes you moan, the way he holds you tighter when you do, more than makes up for it. he experimentally licks into your mouth, and you moan again, the sound swallowed by his own desperate groan as he pulls you flush against him.
your hands tangle in his hair, and he kisses you like he’s been starving for this his entire life, like he’s been waiting for this moment since the day you two became conscious of anything other than scraped knees and comic books. and shit, is he mouthy. between kisses, he sucks your lower lip into his mouth, his voice a deep, wrecking whisper that vibrates through you. “shit, fuckin’ look at you,” he groans, before another hot kiss steals the air from your lungs. your tongues clash, a messy, desperate dance, as he softly guides you backward- then, abruptly, he picks you up.
one arm around your waist, the other under your thighs, and he lifts you. you gasp into his mouth, but he just chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound that you feel in your bones. he shushes you with another deep, possessive kiss as he kneels on the bed, softly guiding you down onto the mattress. he hums against your mouth, the words a reverent confession. “always dreamed of doin’ this shit t’you… wonderin’ how you’d sound…”
he bites your lip, and you whine, feeling his smirk against your mouth as he swallows another whimper out of you. your legs tighten around his waist, and the barrier of your clothes suddenly feel infuriating. you pull back, panting, and he can already tell what’s wrong. he laughs breathlessly, a beautiful, happy sound, as you pout. he kisses the corner of your mouth, but you’re already pawing at his leather jacket. “what’s up, baby? hmm?” he teases.
“take- take this shit off,” you groan, your voice wrecked. “all of it. now.” his breath stutters, a sharp inhale. his hands are already moving, and you’re also a flurry of motion. your jackets hit the floor in a soft thud, followed by your shirts tossed haphazardly across the room. he unbuckles his silver bat belt with one hand, the motion so fluid and fast it makes you bite back a moan. where did he learn that shit? you struggle to shimmy your own jeans down, but his are already off, kicked away with his boots, leaving him in just his briefs.
he shushes you softly, pushing you back down gently as he helps you out of your shoes, his hands warm and sure against your skin. he hums against you as he pops open the button of your jeans with an easy flick of his wrist, kissing your jaw as you cling to him. “shh, i got you. i ain’t gonna disappear. m’right here.” he presses another hot, reassuring kiss to your mouth as he pulls your jeans down your legs, and you nearly cry at the intimacy. you’re left in just your bra and soaked panties, and he swallows your whimper with another kiss, his tongue sweeping in to claim you all over again.
the way he kisses you is dizzying, a soothing balm on the raw, bubbling emotions of how loved you feel, how secure. it’s a stark, jarring comparison to the hollowness of your ex, to the way he’d just use your body in bed without ever seeing the person inside it. a single tear escapes, tracing a hot path down your temple without your permission. you tug him down harder, desperate for more, for all of him as he licks into your mouth- but then he tastes the salt.
he pulls back with a soft, wet pop, and you whine at the loss. his voice is impossibly gentle, a low, coaxing murmur as he leans in to lick the tear away from your skin. you moan, your legs tightening around his soft hips as he peppers your face in soft, apologetic kisses. you catch a glimpse of his face, soft and open and covered in your kiss marks, your lipstick smudged beautifully on his mouth. a raw, desperate need to claim him further washes over you. “why’s my sweet girl cryin’, hmm?” he murmurs against your cheek.
you whimper as his kisses trail down to your neck, not wanting to make the comparison but unable to stop the words from tumbling out. “jus’- you taking care of me… m’not used to this when i would do this with-” he doesn’t let you finish.
a deep, possessive growl rips from his chest, and he swallows your whimper with a bruising kiss. your fingers tighten in his hair as he rasps, sucking your lower lip into his mouth. “well, that piece of shit ain’t gonna give you grief anymore. m’gonna show you how you should’ve been treated since the beginnin’, sugar. y’gonna let me?”
you break. nodding furiously, you pull him back down, and he smirks against your lips as you melt into him, panting. “fuck- please, gee,”
he hums, a low, satisfied sound as his kisses trail along your jaw. “gonna make sure i show ya how important you are t’me, baby.” then you feel it- the delicious, insistent pull of his mouth on your pulse point. your jaw goes slack as he tugs the sensitive flesh into his mouth, your clit throbbing in time with the dizzying, rhythmic pulls.
you moan, pulling him closer as he hums, sucking at your neck like it’s his new favorite thing to do. just before it becomes too much, he pulls off with a wet pop, trailing his hot, wet kisses down your heaving chest. his hands follow the path of his mouth, and he kisses each breast, still secure in your bra, groaning, “shit, you’re gorgeous.” you see it then- the way his hips grind down into the mattress, a slow, unconscious roll like he just can’t help himself.
his pretty eyes trail back up to meet yours as he presses another hot kiss to your breast. you don’t even think, you just arch into him. his brows furrow in contentment as he keeps kissing, his hand trailing around your back to unhook your bra with an easy, practiced flick of his wrist.
you gasp as he flings the bra away, nearly laughing at his boyish urgency, but the sound breaks off into a moan as his warm mouth latches onto your sensitive nipple. he’s experimental at first, flicking the bud with his tongue, his other hand palming your other breast. your hips buck in desperation as you tug his hair. “gee- holy fuck- slow down-” he just groans, a deep, vibrating sound, and sucks the nipple harder, his fingers tweaking the other.
he gets lost in it, his brows furrowed in concentration as his hips now grind into the mattress in a constant, desperate rhythm. just when you think you could come from the relentless stimulation, he pulls off with a wet sound and latches onto the other, giving it the same meticulous attention. no shortcuts, no slacking. he sucks it, flicks it, and more wetness soaks your panties. you truly can’t take it anymore. “gee- s’enough,” you pant, pushing gently at his strong head. “need you- please-”
he gasps, pulling off, his lips trailing further down. he’s babbling against your stomach, his voice thick with need. “gonna fuckin’ eat you out. need t’taste you, baby.” your eyes widen.
no one has ever gone down on you. you asked your ex, once, but he’d just laughed. you truly don’t even know how to navigate this, how to act, but the sheer, overwhelming need to feel his mouth on you wins. you stutter, your fingers tugging his hair as he easily parts your legs. he kisses each knee, then moves to the soft skin of your inner thighs, his kisses slow and deliberate, as if he’s giving you all the time in the world to process, to decide, to simply feel.
his kisses are maddeningly slow, open mouthed and wet. each one is a question, a test, and you can feel the tension coiling in your stomach, a mix of anticipation and a vulnerability you’ve never known. he looks up at you from between your legs, his eyes dark and blown wide with a reverence that makes your breath catch. he looks like a man worshipping at an altar.
“please…” you whisper, your voice trembling.
“shh, honey, i got you,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your soaked panties. “jus’ let me,” he hooks his fingers into the delicate fabric, and with agonizing slowness, he pulls them down. the cool air hits your slick, heated flesh, and you shiver. he tosses them aside without a second glance, his focus entirely on you. for a moment, he just looks. his gaze is so intense it’s almost a physical touch.
“fuck,” he breathes, the word a reverent curse. “look at you. so fuckin’ pretty.” he leans in, not where you need him most, but pressing a soft, almost chaste kiss to your mound. “he never did this, did he? never fuckin’ appreciated what was right in front of him.”
you can only shake your head, a whimper caught in your throat. “his fuckin’ loss,” he growls, and then he finally leans in and licks a long, slow stripe up your folds. the foreign feeling is electric. it’s so much more intense than you ever imagined, a wet, hot pressure that sends a jolt straight through your entire body.
you cry out, your hands flying to his hair, your fingers tangling in the damp strands. he groans against you, the sound vibrating right through your pussy. he’s being experimental at first, learning the terrain. he flattens his tongue, lapping broadly, then points it, tracing circles around your clit. he’s paying attention, cataloging every gasp, every twitch of your hips, every time your fingers tighten in his hair. when he flicks his tongue directly over the sensitive bundle of nerves, you jolt and moan loudly. “there,” you gasp. “oh, god, gee, right there.”
a smug, satisfied hum vibrates against you. “yeah? right here, baby?” he does it again, harder this time, and your back arches off the bed. he learns fast. he learns that a slow, firm circle makes your thighs shake, and that a quick, hard flick makes you tug his hair so hard it must hurt. he loves it. he’s grinding down into the mattress, a slow, desperate rhythm that tells you he’s just as lost in this as you are.
“fuck, y’taste so fuckin’ good,” he babbles, his voice muffled by your flesh. “better than i ever fuckin’ dreamed. could do this shit all night.” he seals his lips around your clit and sucks, a dizzying, pulling pressure that makes your vision white out for a second. then, he shallowly fucks your twitchy hole with his long tongue, and you sob.
“gee, oh my god, please-”
“please what, sugar? tell me what y’need,” he pants, pulling back for just a second before diving back in. “you’re takin’ this so well, such a good girl f’me. he never knew, did he? never knew how t’make you fall apart like this. what a stupid fuckin’ guy,” his words are as intoxicating as his actions. the praise, the dissing of your ex, the sheer need in his voice- it’s all a dizzying cocktail that pushes you higher and higher.
he’s a mess, a babbling, desperate mess, and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced. he’s so down bad, so eager to learn exactly what makes you tick, and he’s a fucking natural. he focuses his attention back on your clit, sucking it in a relentless, dizzying rhythm while his tongue flicks against it. the pressure builds, a tight, hot coil in your stomach winding tighter and tighter. your legs start to shake uncontrollably, and you can feel yourself getting so close.
“gee- oh god- m’close,” you sob, your hips bucking against his face.
he doesn’t let up. if anything, he sucks harder, his movements more determined. “c’mon, baby,” he groans, the words vibrating against you. “give it t’me. wanna feel ya on my tongue- let go f’me, honey. i got you.” a white hot wave of pleasure crashes over you, so intense it’s almost painful. you cry out his name, your body convulsing as the orgasm rips through you. he doesn’t stop, he just keeps sucking, grinding his hips down harder into the mattress as he works you through it, drawing out your pleasure until you’re a trembling, sobbing mess.
you feel his hips go once, twice- a sharp, stuttering grind against the bed- and then he groans, long and low into your pussy as he comes too. the sound is your undoing all over again, a fresh wave of tears leaking from your eyes as the aftershocks ripple through you.
he doesn’t pull away immediately. he laps gently at your folds, his movements soft and soothing now, cleaning you up with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. he presses soft, wet kisses to your inner thighs before finally crawling back up your body, a slow, deliberate prowl, and gathers you into his arms. his skin is damp with sweat, his chest heaving against yours.
for a moment, he just holds you, his face buried in your neck, his breath hot and ragged. you can feel his heart hammering against your ribs, a frantic, wild beat that matches your own. he’s shy again, that initial confidence from moments ago tempered by the overwhelming reality of what just happened. “you okay?” he murmurs, his voice a hoarse whisper against your skin. you can only nod, your throat too tight to form words.
you tilt your head, capturing his lips in a slow, deep kiss. you can taste yourself on his tongue, and it makes you moan. that’s all the encouragement he needs. he deepens the kiss, one of his hands trailing down your side, over the curve of your hip, his touch reverent as he drags his briefs down- his cock slapping back against his stomach. you feel him, hot and impossibly hard, pressing against your thigh. you pull back from the kiss, panting. “gee… i want you. all of you. now.”
his breath hitches. “are- are you sure? i mean… i’m clean- but…
“me too,” you whisper, meeting his gaze. “always used a condom with him. i trust you.” the look on his face is devastating.
a mix of awe, relief, and a raw hunger that makes your stomach clench. he nods, swallowing hard. “okay. yeah- okay.” he settles between you, his hips nudging your thighs open. he takes his cock in his hand, guiding the thick, flushed head to your entrance. he’s so much bigger than you’re used to, and the sheer size of him is intimidating. he pushes in slowly, so slowly, and the stretch is delicious, a deep, full ache that borders on too much but is so, so right. your mouth falls open in a silent gasp, your hands flying to his biceps, the muscles bulging under your touch.
“fuck,” he groans, his voice strained. “shit, baby- you’re so- so fuckin’ warm.” he’s shaking, his control hanging by a thread as he sinks into you inch by agonizing inch. “he never fucked you like this, did he, baby? never fuckin’ filled you up like y’deserve, huh?”
you can only shake your head, a tear slipping from the corner of your eye. the feeling is overwhelming, a fullness you’ve never known. he’s all the way in now, his hips pressed flush against yours, and he just stays there for a moment, letting you adjust, letting you feel him. he looks down at you, and the sight is enough to make you sob. his dark hair is wet and plastered to his forehead, his hazel eyes are glassy and blown wide with lust and love, his soft chest is flushed and glistening with sweat. your kiss marks are scattered across his neck and jaw, a beautiful, messy testament to your need for him. he’s perfect.
“y’feel that, honey?” he rasps, his voice thick with emotion as he grinds into you deeper. “that’s what you were supposed to be feelin’ all this time.” he starts to move, a slow, shallow retreat followed by a deep, powerful thrust that punches the air from your lungs. he’s learning you, learning what makes you cry out, what makes your nails dig into his skin.
he sets a dizzying rhythm, a steady, punishing pace that has you seeing stars. every thrust hits that perfect spot inside you, a place you didn’t even know existed, and you’re a mess of sobs and moans beneath him. “gee- oh, god- you’re s’big-”
“i know, baby, i know,” he babbles, his hips snapping faster. “takin’ me so well, though. such a good girl. look at you- fuckin’ gorgeous.” he pins your hips down with his hands, his grip hard enough to bruise, and you welcome it, you crave it. he’s crying now, angry, desperate tears tracking paths through the sweat on his face. “fuckin’ idiot,” he grits out, his voice breaking. “how could he ever let you go? how could he not see what he had? m’so fuckin’ lucky. so lucky to finally have y’like this.”
you sob with him, the sheer emotion of it all crashing over you. the pleasure, the love, the raw, aching need. you clutch onto him, kissing him with a desperation that matches his own, a messy, tearful clash of teeth and tongues. he gets progressively more confident, his movements sure and deliberate. he hooks his strong arms under your knees, folding you in half, and you gasp at the new angle. he’s so much deeper now.
“yeah?” he smirks, a wicked, beautiful thing. he fucks you harder, deeper, his hips a relentless, pistoning rhythm. “right there, ain’t it? that the spot he could never find?” you cry out, your back arching as he hits it again and again. he leans down, licking away all your tears, his tongue soft and warm. then he does something that wrecks you. he imitates one of your moans, a high, breathy cry, right in your ear. you clench around him violently, and he laughs, a low, triumphant sound. “oh, you like that, huh? you like it when i show you how pretty y’sound when you’re fallin’ apart on my cock?”
you can’t answer. you just sob, completely overwhelmed. the pressure builds again, a tidal wave of pleasure rising higher and higher, threatening to drown you. “gee… m’gonna- gonna come-”
“c’mon, baby,” he growls, his hips slamming into you. “come f’me- lemme fuckin’ me feel it. come all over my cock.” he sucks your pulse point into his mouth, biting down just hard enough, and that’s it. your orgasm rips through you, more intense than the last, a blinding wave of pleasure that leaves you screaming his name.
he follows you over the edge with a choked sob. “stay inside,” you beg, your voice a broken whisper. “please, gee, stay inside me.” he whimpers at that, a raw, vulnerable sound, and you feel him pulse, spilling rope after rope of his hot release deep inside you. he keeps you pinned down, his arms still hooked under your knees, his forearms braced on either side of your head as he collapses onto you, his face buried in your neck.
after a long moment, he lifts his head, his movements slow and languid. he kisses you softly, a gentle, loving press of his lips that’s a stark contrast to the frantic fucking from moments before. he’s still inside you, still half hard, a comforting, possessive presence. “god you’re unreal,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse but full of awe. “so fuckin’ good for me, honey. perfect.”
he stays buried inside you for what feels like an eternity, his weight a comforting anchor as you both float down from your highs. his breathing evens out, and he presses soft, lazy kisses to your shoulder, your collarbone, the corner of your jaw. he’s just holding you, cherishing you, and you’ve never felt more content in your life. eventually, with a soft groan, he shifts, carefully pulling out of you. the loss is immediate, but it’s quickly replaced by the warmth of his body as he collapses beside you, pulling you into his arms. “don’t move,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead. “i’ll be right back.”
you watch, a soft smile on your face, as he drags his briefs back on, his movements slow. you hear the sink run in his small bathroom, and you wait, a strange, anxious flutter in your chest. he comes back with a warm, wet rag, his expression gentle and almost shy again.
he sits on the edge of the bed, coaxing your thighs apart with a soft touch. he gently wipes away the mess, his touch so careful it makes your heart ache. “sorry,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss your knee. “jus’ wanna take care of you.” he tosses the rag toward his hamper and gets up again, rummaging through the pile of your guys’ clothes. he comes back with his mötley crüe shirt from today, his soft star wars pajama pants, and clean briefs.
he dresses you with the same tender care, his hands gentle as he pulls the shirt over your head and helps you into the briefs and pants.
you’re swimming in his clothes, and you’ve never felt more comfortable. you smile softly, pulling him down for a slow, soft kiss. he coaxes you back down onto the pillows, holding you tight as he hooks your leg over his hip, your bodies pressed together from chest to toe. your noses brush, and you both start giggling like idiots. “i love you,” you whisper, the words feeling so right, so easy.
“i love you so much it’s kinda stupid,” he laughs, kissing you again. “i can’t believe we waited so long.”
“we’re idiots,” you agree, kissing him back, the kiss soft and sweet and full of promise. “complete and total idiots.”
he nuzzles your neck, his stubble a delicious scratch against your skin. “so…” he says, his voice teasing. “i know it’s, like, midnight or whatever, but… will you be my valentine?”
you laugh, pulling back to look at his beautiful, wrecked face. “hmm, i don’t know,” you tease, tapping his chin. “what’s in it for me?”
he grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “you get me. desperately and pathetically needy for you, twenty four seven. i’m basically your own personal, adoring love slave.”
you pretend to think about it, humming thoughtfully. “well, when you put it like that…” you lean in, kissing him softly. “yes, you big dummy. of course.”
he beams, his whole face lighting up with pure joy. “good,” he whispers, kissing you again, deeper this time. “‘cause i don’t think i was ever gonna let you go anyway.”
