𝐌𝐲 A𝐥𝐥 -
James Kelly x f!reader
“id give my all to have just one more night with you.”
The rain had stopped hours ago, but the pavement still looked wet under the streetlight outside my window. A reflection shimmered on the floorboards, just enough to catch my eye every few seconds. I curled deeper into the blanket, knees to chest, phone resting heavy in my palm.
I told myself I wasn’t going to call. Not tonight. Not again. But my body ached in that specific way, not just for touch, not just for heat. But for him.
The way his hands knew where to go without asking. The way he kissed like he was saying something he didn’t have the words for. The way he looked at me like he already knew I was lying when I said I was fine.
I wasn’t.
And the silence in my room was too loud. He’d been gone for weeks, but the ghost of him never really left. I could still smell him on the pillow, still feel his breath in the curve of my neck if I lay still long enough. I hated how much of him still lived in this room. In me.
He told me to stop calling, said it only made things harder. But what was I supposed to do with all this need? What was I supposed to do with all this love?
My thumb hovered over his name on the screen. I didn’t mean to press it — not really. But I did.
“…hello?” His voice Low. Tired. Rough. It wrecked me.
“It’s me,” I whispered.
A pause. Not surprise. Just silence soaked in understanding.
“I know,” he said softly. And I cursed myself for hitting the call button.
“Im sorry, I know I said I wouldn’t call-“ He cut me off before I finished.
“Why’d you call?” I swallowed hard. “Because I miss you. And because pretending like I don’t doesn’t work anymore.”
He let out a breath, and I swear I heard him shift — sheets rustling, the soft creak of his bed frame. I imagined him sitting up, rubbing his hand across his face the way he always did when he was trying not to feel too much.
“I shouldn’t come over,” he said after a beat. But his voice didn’t sound convinced. “I know.” I replied, barely a whisper.
“But you want me to.” He said, in a quiet tone. I closed my eyes. “I want more than I should.”
He went silent.
Then, finally, “I still think about you,” he murmured. “Even when I don’t want to.”
“God, me too.” I rubbed my head, regretting my actions. I shouldn’t have called, but I’m too far gone now. And we both know this will only end in one way. I heard him sigh — that low, familiar sound that made my chest ache.
“I’ll be there in twenty.”
He hung up, leaving no room for argument. I stayed sitting on my bed for minute processing what just happened.Then I stood, brushing my hair out of my face, wiping my dark eyes. I didn’t bother with makeup. I didn’t bother changing. He’d seen me like this. And still, he always kissed me like I was something beautiful.
When the knock finally came, I was already at the door. He looked the same, damp from the misty night, eyes heavy, jacket in his hand, and something unreadable on his face.
I didn’t say a word. Just stepped back. He walked in like he never left, and I let him.
There was no small talk. No pretending. Just an undeniable tension in the room that was quickly fulfilled when he kissed me, it wasn’t soft — it was aching. His hands gripped my waist like he was afraid I’d disappear. My fingers curled into his shirt like I needed him to stay stitched together.
Clothes came off without a word.
His hands gripped my shirt, pulling it up and over my head slowly like he was scared I might break. I started working on his belt, none of us saying a word besides the breathy gasps and whimpers of need.
Once our clothes were off he laid me down on the bed, his hands going to my hips as his whole body pressed me into the mattress. The feeling of his skin against mine again was intoxicating, his fingertips digging into my hips.
I looked up into his eyes, watching his lust filled eyes as he entered me in a teasing stroke. My eyes rolled back, feeling his warm breath hit my collarbone as he began thrusting.
I watched, entranced, as his body moved against mine. He knew all the angles to drive me crazy. One arm rested against the pillow next to my head, hands gripping the plush pillow like he was holding back going too fast. His other hand resting on my hip, pulling me towards his thrusts.
I let out soft moans, throwing my head back against the pillow. My back arching up until my breasts were pressed against his chest. It felt so wrong and so right, after all this time without him. His cross necklace swung back and forth in front of my face as he rolled his hips into mine.
Suddenly, breathless and needy, he turned over onto his back. His hands immediately gripped my hips, guiding me up and down. Once I got the right motion and rhythm, he let go of my hips and placed his hands at the back of his head. His hips still bucking upwards to meet my thrusts.
I let out filthy noises, rolling my hips like a wild animal. He watched me, his mouth slightly open, letting out casual whimpers. “Oh god…” he whispered, his chest sweaty and heaving. He looked pathetically handsome, and so close to his release.
He sat up suddenly, leaning against the headboard. Pulling me impossibly closer like he wanted us to mold together. I wasn’t complaining. His arms wrapped around me, thrusting faster up into me. I let out a louder moan, leaning my forehead against his shoulder.
The room filled with the dirty sounds of our love making, skin slapping and wet noises combined with our needy moans. “Look at me…” he said breathlessly, and I lifted my head to look up into his blue eyes. I let out a soft moan, leaning my forehead against his as I felt him twitch inside me.
Our breaths mingled as we chased each others release. My hips moving at a steady speed, his hands squeezing the skin on my hips, silently encouraging me. I looked up into his eyes and the look in them was enough to unravel me. My body convulsed in his arms as I came hard. He let out a loud groan, squeezing his eyes shut. Feeling him fill me up in a matter of seconds.
We stayed wrapped in each other for a few moments, our chests heaving against one another. I placed my sweaty forehead against his shoulder, softly kissing the skin. His thumb lazily rubbed my thigh, a comforting thing he’s always done after sex.
I lift my head and look up at him, cupping his face. “I’d give my all just to have this again.” I say softly, my voice rough from the passionate moment earlier. He didn’t answer. But he leaned in and kissed my forehead, and that was enough of an answer for me.
