gay asf, i’m still working on my threesome writing so this is all your getting for now unfortunately. part2? kinda? of my singular kinktober post ft. the cuck chair but yeah some denki x sero x reader filth for your dash more to come soon…
mdni
“you took your sweet time didn’t ya.”
denki’s voice sounds raw and defeated.
honestly though, who could blame him. i mean really, you’ve put him through the ringer. it feels like decades have passed since earlier this evening when you had cornered him against the kitchen counter and spewed filth into his ears until he gave in and dropped to his knees right there on the cold linoleum floor to eat your pussy.
and since then you haven’t let up, haven’t given him a minute to catch his breath.
but he’s a people pleaser through and through. especially when it comes to you.
you and hanta.
so when sero had asked, told denki, over the phone to wait for him, to not try and handle you in your current state all by himself.
the blonde had listened.
fifteen torturous minutes of feeling your slick walls flutter around him, because you didn’t want him to pull out yet. fifteen minutes of overstimulated tears building in his water line as he presses soft kisses against the back of your neck, your shoulder, all down your back, murmuring gently into your skin, that hanta would be home soon and he’d sort you both out.
so when the man of the hour finally steps into their bedroom, it takes all denki has in him to not fully collapse into your body and beg sero to take them both.
hanta sero, of course, has had a half chub growing in his pants since the second he had heard denki’s voice down the phone.
and the sight of the two of you, absolutely spent, absolutely wrecked. both of your bodies gleaming with sweat and your own juices smeared across the back of your thighs, across the bottom half of denki’s torso.
shit.
the things he could do.
he could probably ask you guys to do anything and you’d equally enjoy it.
so…
“get up.”
“i—what?”
hanta can see both of your bodies tense at the sound of his voice. both your legs trembling. shaking.
“you heard me,” hanta scoffs meanly, he’s trying to be serious, to be hard and domineering. he’s doing alright for now, but sero will probably crack in a few minutes. “get up.”
and denki, like the people pleaser he is, complies.
shaky legs detach from yours, as denki musters up whatever strength he has left. his breathing is haggered and he lets out a whimper when his cock slips out of you. he's pink all over. overstimulated to the max, he'd do anything right now for a taste of relief.
you whine, not loud, but bratty enough that both men snap their eyes towards you. and you burn under the attention, under both pairs of pupils that dilate when you pout softly.
hanta tuts, his eyes still on you as denki slowly makes his way towards the other guy. nothing needs to be said at this point, all you can do is lower your head back into the pillow that's half soaked in your own drool, and wait for your turn.
the sound of the two of them ringing in your ears, denki's soft footsteps padding along the floor, hanta's snickers echoing in the bedroom.
"look at you," hanta sighs heavily at the state of the blonde. bitten, raw. sensitive. he catches denki before he can stumble, one hand on his bare shoulder, one hand on the small of his back.
denki is breath-taking like this. glassy eyed, flushed cheeks.
hanta can't help but lean in and capture blonde's pink soft lips with his own. they both melt. denki's knees practically cave in as he falls deeply into hanta. his hands gripping the the curly ends of his dark hair, his heart buzzing in his chest.
"all worked up, hmm."
he smiles teasingly into denki's lips. he can taste you on him.
he walks denki backwards, hands still furiously gripping at each other, teeth gnashing at each others lips, swallowing each other's breath. hanta keeps moving, moving until the back of denki's knees brush against something solid, and then he realises.
"no—w-wait, i'm—i can still—”
but hanta silences him with his slow soothing lips that pepper against denki's neck, "i know, i know," as he sucks bruises around the blonde's collarbone. "but why don't you let me take over for a minute, yeah?" it doesn't sound like a question and denki's body is weak to the instruction. "just sit down for a second, okay, you can touch yourself if you want to sweets, i'm not gonna stop you."
and denki folds like a wet paper towel onto the chair that was placed in the corner of the bedroom for this exact purpose.
Desc: You've been a friend of the Cody's for years. All that time pretty much, you've been crushing on Andrew. It hurt when you were friends and you didn't say anything. It hurts more when he stops treating you like a friend and you can only pine from a distance.
Everytime you do see Pope, he always gives you the cold shoulder. There's just no way he likes you back the same way. Right?
Tags: Pope codyxfem!reader, set pre-canon (a couple of yrs b4 popes arrest), eventual smut, porn with plot, pervy Pope, unrequited crush (supposedly), handjob (Pope resesving), vaginal fingering (r reseaving) reader has a foul mouth (raised by the Cody's what can I say), reader is desc as wearing a bikini, r uses she/her pronouns, reader has a pussy, little other reader desc, r is pretty strong headed and impulsive, r has a hook up with an other character (oc) (dw it's rlly bad), minor use of oc for plot (not reader), pervy!Pope (you'll see), shy!Pope during sex, r takes the lead
A/n: trying to post this while on a train isn't smartest thing I've done. But I've had loads of time whole travelling to write this and now I'm too excited to post
Read on ao3
Masterpost
8k
...
The water is cool at the Cody residence. It sends a welcome chill and washes away the heat from the day. You're in one of your nicer bikini's, the one you only wear at the pool and not the beach because you don't want to ruin it. The one you often wear to the Cody's because there's a reason you want to wear something skimpy and eye catching.
"Enjoying our pool?" Darren calls, as he walks into the garden.
"Yep."
"I swear that's the only reason you come here anymore."
"So what if it is? I think it's a good enough reason."
"Maybe." Derran shrugs as he takes a seat on one of the outdoor chairs.
It is better that he thinks the pool is the only reason you keep coming to their house. And there isn't a certain older brother with curled, auburn hair and a mean face that hides a much softer soul that keeps leading your legs back to this house.
A house you spent a lot of your childhood in, playing with that older brother. Until, he began to push you away and you became less important to him. Until your friendship with him vanished.
It doesn't help that the feelings you developed for him as kids, never really faded. A hopeful part of you wishes that Andrew will go back to treating you how he did before. A pragmatic part just wishes he'd explain what changed between you. And a small, but persistent, cynical part of you just wants to hurt him back. That on one visit you'll just snap, and you'll break him apart. But for now, you'll just swim gentle laps of the pool, and hope to catch even a glimpse of him.
"So, how's dating going?" Darren chimes in, breaking you from thought.
"As bad as ever." Pinning over Pope hasn't gotten you anywhere. In attempt to move on from him, you tried to put yourself out there. Predictably, it has been terrible.
"Oof. I don't envy you."
"You can't be a bachalor forever, you know?"
"I don't know, I think I've got many more years of singledom ahea-"
A clatter from the gate cuts Darren's speech off. He shoots up, high on alert, attention towards the gate.
Stumbling towards you both, comes Pope. One hand clutches his side, there are cuts up his arm and his face is bloodied and swollen.
"Jesus! Pope, what happened?"
Darren rushes over to Andrew and slings the injured man's arm over his shoulder, supporting his walk and leading him to a chair.
Alarmed, you leap out of the pool before rushing over to where Andrew now sits. It's not the first time you've seen him like this, and your sure it won't be the last.
His arms are flexed and pusling, daring to split out from his shirt. His jaw is deep set and ripples with tension. One eye is bloodied a bruised, a deep purple stain beginning to form on the eye socket. There are crimson streaks of blood on his face from the bleeding wound. But there are also splattered on blood across his knuckles and stained on his dark shirt, that aren't from his own injuries.
"Errand Smurf sent me on. Went a little sidewise." Pope hissed through his pain as he answered Darren.
"Really. A little."
"I'll be fine." Pope dismissed.
You stand there, a couple of paces from Pope. Dripping wet from the pool. You desire deeply to reach out and cradle his face. But thats not what he wants, you restrain yourself, digging you nails into your palms. Instead you say.
"I can get the med kit. From inside."
Andrew turns his head to look at you. Seemingly processing you for the first time since he arrived. There's a deep frown on his face. Not from the injuries but one that formed the moment he saw you. It sets a feeling of unease in your gut. His squinting gaze travels from your head and your dripping hair that clings to it. Then down the whole length of your body, reminding you that you're still only dressed in a skimpy bikini. His gaze makes you go red hot and your stomach does a flip. When he stares at you like this, he doesn't hide what he's looking at, hes looking at your body, all of it. Finally, he drags his eyes away from you and turns to Darren.
"She shouldn't be here." He grumbles out the corner of his mouth.
As if you had swolled a lead weight your gut plummets hard. You are reminded of the cold shoulder Pope has been giving you for the last few years. You are reminded that he still doesn't feel the same way as you.
"I'll be in my room." Pope groans as he gets up but refuses help from Darren. He shuffles his way into the house.
Darren turns to you sympathetically.
"He is right. It's probably best if you-"
"Yeah that's fine. I get it." You've been around the Cody's enough to know when it's time to leave. "But can I use your shower first?"
"Go ahead. You'll be out before everyone gets here." It's a statement as much as it is an instruction.
"Yeah, no problem."
You collect your bag before making your way to Darren and Craig's joint bathroom.
"I swear he hates me." You mutter. Mostly to yourself, but Darren still hears you.
"You think?"
"He is always so short with me." You turn back to look at him.
"I think he's just like that." Darren shrugs. "He's the same with everyone. I think he's indifferent to you at best."
That word hits harder than it should. It hits harder than if he said hated.
...
As if trying to undo the cool swim, you turn up the shower as high as it'll go. The scolding water almost grounds you as your head spins. Indifferent. Indifferent. Indifferent. From childhood friends to developing a crush in you late teens to slowly and painfully watching as he creates a bigger and bigger void between you until you can barely hold a conversation with him. And for that to not be motivated by hatred or another strong emotion but indifference.
Your head is dipped under the fall of the hot water. You let the near boiling liquid pour down your naked body. You've shut both the doors to the bathroom, you'd lock them but they don't have any. Relating to Smurf and her shocking lack of boundaries with her kids. But Craig and Darren know you're here and they always respect your privacy. Even if now, the only quiet moment you are taking is to brood.
You should be over this man. This is why you're dating. And yet everything he does, even the cold shoulder, drives you totally mad. Your 30 second interaction plays over in your head. The worry you feel deep in your core from seeing him so injured. The heat, that you can still feel inside of you, when his percing gaze travelled the length of your body. That had to mean something. That wasn't how you looked at a person if you didn't care for them. But maybe you were just clutching a straws.
"Ugh!" You call out into the empty bathroom in frustration.
Suddenly, you see movement. Your heart rate spikes. A figure out the corner of you eye drags your attention. You head swivels to get a better look but through the mist of the bathroom but nothing is clear. You turn off the shower.
"Darren?" You call out. Maybe he's trying to hurry you along.
There's no answer.
With one hand, you wipe off the gathering of thick condensation on the glass. You scan the room. You can't see anyone in the bathroom. However, looking in the reflection on the mirror you can see into Darren's bedroom. That can't be right. The sliding door is pulled all the way open, and you can see a view of his bed and desk chair. But you can't see anyone.
You step out the shower and immediately go over and shut the door. It probably just swung open. As for the figure you saw, you can't quite explain that.
Once you're dressed, you enter Darren's room to leave again. Darren enters the room at the same time.
"Did you just talk to Pope?" He asks.
You brow furrows. What is he talking about?
"No. Why?"
"I just passed him, leaving my room. You didn't see him."
"No, he must've grabbed something and left."
"Yeah, it was probably that."
It was probably that. But then again, it could have been the figure you saw. The figure that snuck into Darren's room. Who opened the door to the bathroom and tucked into the side and watched you shower.
The idea that it might have been Pope gives you more thrill than it should. A random figure watching you would be wrong. But Andrew, taking a peak while you showered. Too shy to do anymore. That was exciting, it made your stomach knot. Even if it was just a fantasy only you could entertain.
...
A few weeks later, you're sat on the couch waiting for Darren, so you can leave for your night out. While you wait, you think you might as well have a quick check on your dating app again, see if anything has changed (you know it hasn't). As your swiping through blury selfies, awkward poses by sports cars they definitely don't own and so many photos with fish. Darren finally make an appearance.
"I thought you were done with the dating apps."
"I was. But then the perfect man didn't magically fall on my lap since. So I downloaded it again."
"I thought the guys on there were all creeps." Darren walks down the steps to stand in front of you on the couch.
"They're not. Mostly." You dismiss, standing up and gathering your things. Turning it off and placing your phone into your bag.
"Apart from that guy who followed me back from the date the other day."
"What!" Darren stammered, grabbing your arm so your facing him again, his eyes fierce.
"Relax I was fine. I left after one drink because I got weird vibes." You coax Darren's grip off your arm as you speak. "But he followed me out the bar. He was pretty obvious though. Anyway so I walked to Chicks, you know Chicks?"
"Yeah, I know of Chicks"
"Well I know the bouncer there, Tony. So I pointed him out. And honestly he didn't make two steps until the creep runs off." Your laughing but Darren's brow is still creased.
"It's fine, he's not following me anymore."
"Or he just got better a stalking." A voice says unexpectedly, from the hallway.
Both you gazes snap over to see Pope hovering from the raised platform. He wears a dark button up that sits tight around his swollen chest and biceps. You can still see the reminence of the mess he got in the last you saw him, a yellowy-green shadow coveres one eye. An uneasy atmosphere settels between the three of you. There's a beat of tense silence before Darren speaks.
"Stop snooping on our conversations, man." He turns to you. "Are you ready to go?"
"One minute, I think I need to pee again."
"Seriously." Darren fusses.
"I won't be a minute." You throw your bag back onto the couch and rush over to the guest toilet.
"I'll see you in the car." Darren calls.
You skip up to the hallway to the guest bathroom, but you're stopped by Andrew who remains firmly planted on the floor, his eyes boring into you.
"It's okay, I know how to stay safe." You brush your hand across Pope's bicep. He makes a small grunt in response, his gaze focused on where you hand brushes him. You can't quite make out what that tone indicates. As soon as you feel like you've found his core, you find out he's still hidden behind more locked doors. But he steps aside and you leave him standing there.
Once you're out of sight, his attention turns to the bag you've left on the couch.
...
The night out was fun, even if it didn't sport any suitable bachelors. There was one guy that brought you a drink, but then he did the same to three other girls immediately after you. And a couple of others who you shared moments of flirty eye contact with, but with no results. In the end you enjoyed drinking, dancing and laughing with friends. Enough to call it a successful night.
But the feeling of loneliness, or the desire to quickly have a not-rebound rebound from Pope, quickly takes over you. As soon as you're snuggled in your bed, you search for the dating app. But, it's not in its usual place on your home screen. You blame your inebriated head for you slip of memory and search up the app. It doesn't come up. Your check the spelling. Nope, all correct.
With a sigh, you re-download the app. Sometimes that happens, apps crash and then uninstall themselves. You just have to reinstall it, and you'll be back on track, you hope. It's a slow wait until the app returns and you almost drift off to sleep when a ping jolts you awake. App installed.
The app prompts you for your login and you type on your email. Account not found. That's not right. You retype your email. Account not found. This is becoming more hassle than it's worth. You try your back up email, thinking maybe you'd used the other one before. Account not found. You try again.
Account not found.
You try your number instead.
Account not found.
You retype it.
Account to found.
And again.
Account not found.
Exasperated, you slam your phone down on your bed. Maybe your app deleted on its own, but there's no way your account did. You'll endeavour to email customer service. But not now, you're way too tired. Perhaps then, it's a good idea your not scrolling on it now. You don't really trust your taste in men, drunk at 3am, nor your ability to talk to them. Maybe it's for the best. At least for tonight.
...
Its not long after that, you find your way heading to another one of the Cody's parties. As you round the last corner to the Cody residence, the sounds of the party can already be heard. The immense speakers blast music that echo's down the street, sure to cause many noise complaints from neighbours, if they were anyone other than the Cody's. There's a cacophony of shouts, a mixture of shrill shrieks and encouraging yells. Judging by the words you can make out, they've already reached the roof jumping stage of the party. Always so predictable.
You walk all the way to the gate that leads into the garden and hover at the entrance for a moment. There you are greeted with the party as full swing. A jumble of bubbly, drunk guest weave in and out of each other. All dressed in bright, revealing bikini's or shirtless, only sporting long board shorts. Each with a drink in hand. The attention of the party is mostly focused on the far end of the garden, where a small group of men gather on the shed roof that over looks the pool.
"Jump you pussies!" Craig calls from beneath the shed. His wet hair and slightly reddened skin, indicate he'd already jumped many times into the pool. Nothing changes, you think.
You scan the party, looking passed drunk couples making out sloppily on deck chairs. Past groups of miscellaneous guests standing in groups, many whom probably don't know any of the Cody's but know you don't need an invite to be at one of the Cody brothers infamous parties. You sweep past them searching for a mop of ragedy blonde hair. Much harder than you'd think as the party mostly consits of surfers. But then you spot him, hands on hips, shaking his head to himself in reference to the three men who still haven't jumped off the roof yet. You make your way over to Darren, squeezing past the crowded party guests.
Three consecutive splashes draw your attention to the pool, and then up to the shed roof. Standing triumphant is Craig, his hands fists in the air as he cheers. Below him, three begrudged men, slowly swimming out of the pool and not without a few pointed words. Clearly Craig had taken matters into his own hands.
"Fuck you man!" One swimmer shouts through mouthfuls of water.
You watch as he shoots the men, and everyone else as the party, the middle finger on both his hands, before front flipping into the pool and narrowly missing one of the swimmers.
Craig's shenanigans are a refreshing sight in a way. It sets up the night for a crazy party, with reckless drunk actions and a night that seems to go on forever. It's what you need, a distraction from Andrew and your insistent pinning. If feels ironic to go to Pope's house when trying to get over the man in question. But you know he avoids his brothers parties like the plague.
Finally you navigate your way to Darren and he turns to greet you.
"Fancy seeing you here." He has a warm smile, the one you only get to see when he actually likes the person (which isn't a lot) "You're like a snake, always slithering back." He jests. You give a nod to Cathy and Baz who are sat beside you. Cathy is curled up under Baz's arm that wraps around her.
"Well as long as you keep throwing mediocre parties, I'll keep showing up." You say, turning back to Darren.
"Mediocre is it!" He feigns offence.
"Well the grounds are a bit small." You highlight the area with gesture. "And you always run out of beer before the end of the night. But other than that." You shrug.
"You're always welcome to leave."
"Hmmm... I'll see how the night goes." You joke, as if your not going to crash on the couch like you do after most parties.
"And in regards to the beer, that's always Craig drinking it."
As if on queue, Craig appears behind Darren, he signals to you to stay silent as he creeps towards Darren. He attempts to scare him by grabbing his shoulders and giving a loud yelp in his ear. Predictably, Darren doesn't finch and shrugs him off.
"Talkin' about me?"
"Only bad things." Darren responds.
As if in answer, Craig shakes himself dry, slapping Darren with his hair and sending a spray of water all around him. You stumble backwards and hold your arms up to shield yourself. You take about two steps before you crash into something firm. Two solid hands grip your waist. Your strain your neck to see who has a grip of you.
"Sorry man. I-"
Your voice trails off as you realise who's holding onto you. He looking back down at you, from this view you can see his numerous freckles in detail, each a gentle golden brown.
"Be careful." He says in a gruff voice, his face too close yours, you can feel his hot breathe tickle your ear. You tense up, your stomach bubbling from the contact as you can feel his rough hands on your bare waist. As well as his strong grip, he's also close enough that you can feel the firm muscle of his chest pressing into your back.
All to quickly he lets go, almost dropping you back down on the floor. Darren and Craig stop their squabbling to focus on Pope, who remains silent until all three pairs of eyes of his brothers focus on him. You shuffle away from him slightly, you're sure your blush is already too obvious and you're not trying to make it worse. The ghost of the contact on your waist still lingers. Even with the physical distance, you eyes still focus on the swell on his pec that's accented by the tightness of his black t-shirt.
"When's the party over?"
"Bro, it's still light." Craig throws his hands up exasperated. "Not anytime soon."
Andrew grunt and turns his gaze to the floor. "I need to prepare, for later this week." He looks up at Baz, hoping to appeal to him.
"Look man, that's ages away." Baz sighs as his stand up. "Let us have some fun first." He guides Pope out of the party, talking quietly in his ear as they go. You watch as Andrew shrinks himself as they walk through the crowd, he's always been uncomfortable in crowds. A part of you wants to follow him out and sit with him, away from the party, as you used to as kids. But thats not the reality anymore. Somehow, no matter how short he is with you, you always find away to be sympathetic towards him.
No matter how much he ignores you. No matter how much he's pushed you away, until your childhood friendship is unrecognisable. Until, he's become 'indifferent' to you. You still want to make sure he's okay.
That's it, you think, there's no way your pining over a man who doesn't care the same way you do.
"Fuck it."
You march over to the bar and reach for the first beer of many.
"That's the attitude." Craig cheers you on, oblivious to your motivations, he clinks the neck of your bottles together.
...
It'd been dark for a while now, the festoon lights that criss-cross the garden shine wildly in the dim. The numerous beer's buzz around your body, making you warm and fuzzy. You jitter with energy, you're just wating for some more excitement. And yet, the energy of the party is starting to simmer. The first few people have already left, making the garden feel much larger with their absence. Most people are now sat on the deck chairs some in small groups but many more coupled up and sucking each others faces' off. To your great annoyance, as you'd decided you're either going to have so much fun you forget about Pope or meet someone tonight and move on. But, so far, neither had happened. Instead Pope had stood behind the glass doors, snarling and grimacing as he scanned the party, which was not helping you keep your mind off him.
"Fuck this!" A few people swivel their heads in your direction.
"What's wrong with you?" Craig exclaims.
"Your mediocre party is getting boring Darren." You call to him as you march past him. In the direction of the shed.
Its not an easy climb up the shed, they never installed a ladder. Not because they couldn't but because Craig always insisted that it ruined the fun. As you scramble up, your fingers numbed slightly from the alcohol making it harder to climb, you start to draw a bit of a crowd. That's better, you think, as you hear a few voices all start to chime up. You can hear Darren and Craig cheering from below. Its actually a familiar climb, perhaps if you didn't know it so well, you'd already be flat on your ass, but you where there when Darren first had the idea to jump from the roof. Although, Craig always insists it was his idea first.
With wobbly legs, you straighten up on slanted roof. Looking across the garden, you can see most people have turned to look at the show. Craig, Darren, Cathy and Baz are all up on their feet now. Craig and Darren cheering you on and Cathy clinging to Baz's arm nervously, she always thought you were more fragile than her, being her younger.
Most people at the party don't know that regardless of who was first up the roof, you where second. You know how to land without getting a red burn. You know that when you peer over the ledge, the edge of the pool looks too close to your landing spot but when you actually land you are a good meter away from the edge. But most people don't know that. Maybe you can ham it up a bit, you think to yourself, get some excitement back.
Overcautiously, you push one toe over the edge on the roof, before quickly curling back into yourself. You look nervously across the crowd.
"I don't think I can do it."
You see Darren roll his eyes but you also see Cathy step forward slightly.
"You don't have to do it!" She calls up to it. "You can always come down!"
"You climb down that shed and I'll kick your ass, coward!" Darren shouts back, always interested in letting things get exciting.
And exciting it does get, more people get up onto their feet and the crowd is divided between shouts of encouragement and calls for you to climb down. You're about to fake another spell of nervousness when a loud voice cuts through the shouts.
"Get down. Now!"
Your head whips to the source of the sound and there, close to the shed, looking up at you, is Pope. His hands balled into fists and his brows furrowed.
"What!" You should back. "Are you fucking kidding me?!"
"You'll hurt yourself"
The crowd had gone nearly silent and all attention is on the two of you.
"You seriously haven't spoken to me all this party. Not counting the time before that." Your chest puffs up and down with you heavy, angry breaths. "And the first time you do, is to tell me what to do?"
"You're being careless. Get down."
This cements everything now. He really is indifferent to you. Until you're disturbing him and then he'll talk to you. Fuck him.
"If you don't want to talk to me. Don't think you need to now."
You copy Craig's move from earlier, you stick both fingers at him before taking one powerful leap off the roof. It was perhaps a bit childish but your head is fuzzy from both drink and anger.
There are two feelings that hit you as soon as you land in the pool. First, is the rush of adrenaline that pumps through your body, and the awe that washes over you as all that emotion is held under a dampener under the heavy weight water, a moment dragged out into slow motion.
The second is a slight twinge of regret when you are reminded of why you don't usually do this at parties. You feel the fabric go, but its all too fast for you to catch it before your bikini top is whipped of above your head. Gently you continue to sink to the bottom of the pool, with the full knowledge that you top is now floating at the surface.
The moment you break the water barrier, you are greeted with cheering. The crowd clearly excited from the eventful jump. Amongst other things. You just hope the refraction of the water is enough to cover you up a bit. The first thing you search for, is Pope. He's not getting away that easy. But as you head swivels on it axis, you can't see him anywhere. The coward.
"Looking for this?" An unfamiliar voice draws you attention. Standing on the edge of the pool, with your bright bikini top hooked over one finger, it a man you don't recognise.
"Why, did I loose it?"
You swim closer to him and take in the pleasant site before you. The hand that holds you top it attached to a thick forearm that leads way to a pumped bicep. He has a sweet smile and he doesn't take his eyes off yours as you make your way towards him. A warmth blooms in your chest from the attention.
As you adjust the top back on, still under the surface of the water, you can admit he's cute. And maybe after working a bit of your magic, you can find your fun and your rebound all in one night.
You move to sit on the deckchairs, you lay out and let the evening breeze dry you. And the man, Damien, sits across from you. He'd been decently respectable so far, but now he struggled to keep his gaze on you eyes without it magnetising to the whole length of your body in stuttered breaks. But that was good, you didn't want respectable.
"Who was that then?" He asked, clearly referring to you argument with Pope. "An ex?"
"I wish." You sigh.
He shoots you a confused look. Admittedly that was probably the least clear answer you could have given.
"I just mean, if he was, then he'd actually have a reason to hate me. Instead he just dislikes me for no reason." You give that answer instead of the truth. At least if you were ex's you would have had him at one point.
"Oh." He shrugs. You decide to drag the conversation away from Pope, before you lose this one.
"So, tell me about yourself."
...
Bate. Snare. Trap.
Men where easy (well the majority of them) and by the time you were dried from the pool, you were stretched out on the couch with Damien pressed on top of you. He was clumsy at first, you had to guide his touch. Show him that he could grab handfuls of your breast or ass, that he could press wet, hot kisses to wherever he wanted. He remined you of Pope, maybe a little too much so. You'd imagined him being shy, unsure. And you'd imagined telling him where to place his hands and where to dot kisses. You had one hand in Damien's hair. It was thick and straight but you wished for curls. With that hand, you guided him down your body. You lean into the warm tingles that spread across your neck where he kissed a sensitive spot. You grind into the pressure, where his pelvis meets your crotch, smiling as the pleasure builds in between your legs. Looking down, you're met with broad shoulders and rippling back muscles. But you can't escape the idea, that you wish that back was splattered with golden freckles.
"Mhmmf."
You drag out a moan, hoping to convince yourself as much as Damien, that you want this. It's not that you hate it, Damien was certainly hot. It was just you couldn't shake the feeling that Andrew was looming off in the distance. That was probably it, he was too near, you needed to be somewhere else.
With you hand still in his hair, you guide him up to face you. You a see his swollen lips and blown pupils. Well at least someone is having fun, you think. Before you can invite him back to your place he dives in for another kiss. His mouth meets your, wet and sloppy, he pulls you in for a heated kiss. You let yourself melt into it, allowing his weight to cover you. His tongue explores your mouth and you allow is uncoordinated attack. You let him overwhelm your sense, so at least for one moment you don't have any thought of Andrew.
Something draws your attention away from the kiss. A mummer and shuffle of sorts. You crack one eye open and see him immediately. Standing about a meter away from you, hands splayed out at his side and shoulders hunched. Damien continues to kiss you as you just watch Pope. Unmoving but breathing deeply through his nose. His drooping eyes hold your gaze for a moment of thick, hot tension. Once, Damien realises your not kissing him back, he pulls back and then follows your gaze.
"What the fuck man?!" Damien nearly completely jumps off you in shock.
Andrew rocks back and forth on his feat, undecided if he wants to march forward or run away. He tears his gaze from you to the floor.
You just watch him. His fingers flicker and fidget and he's mumbling to himself. You've seen him like this before; he's anxious. He's reached the point where there are too many thoughts in his head, racing around, and he doesn't know which one is right. And somehow it's you that's made him this anxious. This isn't indifference. It can't be.
You stand up, taking a couple of steps forward before a hand grabs your wrist. You turn back to Damien.
"Don't bother with him. Freak."
You snatch your hand away. Anger boils inside you, heat rising.
"Fuck you!"
"Okay Princess." He holds his hands up mockingly.
Your anger spills over.
"You know nothing. Nothing about him. And you won't learn anything more about me now."
You turn back and Andrew is already gone. You run up the steps and into the kitchen, passing Crag on the way.
"What happened there?"
"Where's Pope?" You ask, ignoring his question.
"Uhh, he just walked off. That way." He points out of the kitchen, towards the garage.
You race of out the sliding doors and through the gate. Just in time to see Andrew's car drive out of the garage.
...
The rest of the night muddled into a blur; more drinks, more music, more chatting. You want to forget your embrassing almost hookup. You want to try and have some fun this party still. And you want to understand Andrew. At some point you staggered your way to the bright, red couch.
The daylight wakes you up, your eyes slowly blinking open, adjusting to the bright light that makes your head pound. You groan into the cushion, before you drag yourself upright. Your head spins, and you sit still as you slowly let yourself adjust.
Standing up with a stretch, combing you bed hair with your fingers and rubbing the crust off that had formed on your cheek. A shiver runs through you, despite the summer morning. You realise you'd slept in your bikini again. But its not such an issue because this is not your first party at the Codys. You have a change of clothes in a bag and you quickly switch over to the soft, dry clothes. A soft top and comfortable, loose fitting shorts. Leaving the bikini on the floor with your bag, you make your way to the kitchen.
It was still abandoned, which you favoured, as the Cody boys did not wake up early. You help yourself to the coffee and lean on the kitchen counter as the sleep dissipates from your body and you begin to wake up.
A shuffling catches you attention and you turn to see Pope. Walking across the room, a black bin bag in a gloved hand. He spares you the smallest of glances, a pitiful look is drawn on his face. Quickly, he grabs some empty bottles from the kitchen counter and strides off.
You had barely slept last night, replying your last events over and over. Is he really that non-plus about you, or is a part of him that cares? As long as you hold feelings to him, you'll always hope he wants you back.
You want to talk to him but you hardly know where to begin. You take the time to collect your thoughts, because when you next see him there will be words.
Walking back to the couch, you notice something strange. The bikini you'd left on the floor is gone. You search around, under the bad, around the sofa but it's gone. Just another explained mystery in the Cody house. But you'll have to sort it later, first you need to talk to Andrew.
However, Andrew proves harder to find than you'd like. He always manages to disappear every time you want to see him. You'd just seen him beginning the clean up but as you search the garden, and the kitchen again, and throughout the house, you can't find him.
You're in the back of the house now, stepping closer to Pope's room. It been a while since you'd been there. The door is open a crack and the light peaks through it. You can't imagine hes there, but you can atleast have a look.
As you edge towards the door, you hear a sound coming from inside. It's muffled and you have to strain your ears to hear, but is sounds like groaning. You lean closer to try and identify the sound. It's still unclear, just a sporadic muffled groaning.
Creeping towards the door, you peak through the gap. You can see Pope's bed and lying ontop of it is him. It's hard to believe what you're seeing. Around his ankles are his pants, revealing his thick, muscular legs that strain and tense as he writhes on the bed. In one hand he holds his cock, that he pumps fiercely. In the other, your missing bikini, it's clutched in his grip and smushed into his face.
You whip yourself away from the door and pull yourself tight to the wall. There's no mistaking what you saw, or what you're hearing. Andrew is still groaning, the sound now more lewd now you know what he's doing. He takes deep inhales of the bikini, that you'd worn all the night before, followed by shaking moans. The sounds make your head spin and an intense warmth bloom between your legs. Pope pulls himself away from the swimsuit, you can hear a loud gasp before he calls out into the room.
"M'sorry. M'sorry."
That pitiful cry, almost sends you bursting into the room, but you stop yourself just shy on the entry way. Instead, peering again through the crack of the opened door.
You see his reddened cock, thick and heavy in his palm. The angry tip leaks a few pearlescent beads of pre-cum. His belly is flushed red at the base on his cock and it makes his freckles a deeper brown. Freckles cover his legs and belly, all places you've never seen before but it only makes you wonder if all parts of his skin are splattered with them.
Andrew wriggles in the bed, searching for more pleasure, aching to feel more. He bring the bikini bottom from his face down to his cock, he wraps it around the throbbing member, before he begins pumping again. Another wave of pleasure rolls over his body, arching his back and sending his head backwards. In a slurred voice, he calls out your name. Muffled under the throws of his pleasure but distinct enough to you.
Unable to contain yourself futher, now throbbing from pleasure from the sight before you, you creep into the room. You push open the door and then gently shut it behind you. Andrew doesn't react to your presence. So you continue, stepping light footed into the room. You make it all the way to the edge of the bed before Andrew sees you.
As soon as he notices you from one peaked eye, he reacts instantly. He throws the bikini aside, as if to hide the evidence. And then he sits up on the bed and curls his legs into himself.
"M'sorry. M'sorry." He mumbles again, repeating the sentiment over and over. His face is hidden from you, looking anywhere but up. His lips are drawn into an almost pout.
"It's okay." You comfort him. And for the first time, since you'd wished to do so, for longer than you can remember. Since you hands ached for it, time and time again. You reach over and cradle his face.
"It's really okay."
He leans into the touch. His face is rough but only where his stubble comes through but at his cheekbone, where your thumb reaches, the skin is softer.
A small whimper leaves his lips. It send your head spiraling but one though takes hold; you need him.
"Will you let me. Will you let me help you?"
He finally looks up at you, his eyes wide and deep brown. With your other hand, you reach your hand down his abdomen. You watch his face intently, looking for signs of hesitation. But he doesn't give you any, instead he opens up his legs, allowing you entry. Your hand brushes across flushed skin until you make your way to his hard cock.
It's warm to touch and throbbing when you wrap your fingers around it. Andrew squirms to the sensation and his whimpers return, faltering under your touch.
"It's okay. I'm here." You voice comes out as barely a whisper, strained from the tension that builds in you. Is this really happening?
Your hand that was cupping his cheek, moves to rake through his curls. They so much softer and thicker than you'd ever imagined.
You pump his cock slowly, from the base to the tip, drawing out each whimper and involuntary flinch of his body. Using the ever increasing pre-cum to slicken the cock and pump faster and faster.
"Aha! Mmmf." Andrew's head falls back onto the pillow and his hips begin to buck as he chases his orgasm further.
You stop your pumping for a moment as you climb onto the bed and straddle his body. He lets out a small whimper from the lose of contact but you comfort him with gentle words. As soon as you're comfortable, you continue the motions, you hand now behind you. His reaction is immediate, his body squirming under you. Chasing your own pleasure that's been building, you begin grinding on his soft belly.
"Andrew." You moan.
He looks up at you, his gaze less sheepish than before.
"Do you think you can help me too. Do you want to help me?"
He nods. So, you guide one of his hands up from his side and to your belly. His finger tips brush the lower part of your abdomen, just at the base of your shorts. His fingers flinch as if your skin is electric. You keep your steady hand on his shaking one and pull it closer until it's flat on you.
"Okay?"
He nods again, his gaze remains fixed where his hand is placed. His brushes the soft skin of your belly, tickling you slightly. He's transfixed by you, his hand exploring as if he'd never touched a person before. You continue to guide him, this time dragging his hand down past your waist band and into your pants. You're watching his face for any change, his eyes remain wide and he bites his lip. You guide the hand so the palm lies flat against you and slowly you push one finger tip through you slick folds.
Andrew takes a sharp intake of breathe as for the first time he feels your own pleasure and they way it has built inside you. The way it's has made your dripping wet and throbbing painfully for attention.
"Okay?" You ask again, your voice more tense as Andrew gets closer to you than ever before.
All he seems to be able to do, is nod. Again he gives you a curt nod but his gaze remains transfixed on your crotch. He becomes more confident now, no longer needing your guiding hand. His fingers explore further into your velvety walls. Tentivaley, he reached your sensitive spot and even with the lightest of touches pleasure barrels through you and you let out a languid moan.
"Ohh yes! Yes Andrew, just like that."
Andrew forms slow deliberate circles with his finger tips. They are firm and calloused against your soft, sensitive pussy. The sensations sends ripples of pleasure throughout your body. You can't help but to begin to grind on his fingers. Seeking out even more pleasure as your body begins to ache for release.
As if in response to your desperation. Andrew moves further down your throbbing pussy and curls two fingers inside of your aching hole.
"Oh God! Oh God!"
Your hole sucks on his fingers, stimulated by the increased sensations. His two fingers push as high up into you as they can and then curl downwards. With the back of his hand, he uses his palm to put pressure on your clit. You're body quivers from his touch.
Andrew's dedication to you, reminds you of your neglected duties. Your hand had stopped rubbing him a while ago and while he fucks you with his hand, you resume your pumping. He squirms and bucks and the immediate sensation and as you keep stroking a breathy moan is drawn out of him. You feel his fingers stutter inside of you. He's so close to release.
"It's okay. You can cum."
His moans become more sporadic as you increase the speed. His cock twitches in your hand.
"Cum for me Andrew."
It's the final permission he needs. His hips buck and jerk as the orgams rips out of him. Hot liquid shots from him. You continue to pump, cum slickened, as you draw out the last of his orgasm. Breathy moans fill the room as Pope strains from the release.
Once his hips drop to the bed and his cock begins to soften in your grasp. You head spins with adrenaline and pleasure, it's hard to think clearly. Andrew still has his head rested heavy on the pillow, his eyes shut as he rides the waves of the afterglow.
But his hand reminds tense and allows you to ride him. Your too desperate to ask for anything else from him, not that you would change a thing about this moment. The time you finally got him. Your thrusts are wild and uncoordinated as the pleasure builds within you. His hand is slickned with your own juices and riding him is easy and smooth. You cum on his hand, pussy clenching around his thick fingers.
After the orgasm has finished ripping through you. You take long heavy breaths and you stare up at the ceiling, letting your heart rate return to normal.
After you pull Pope's hand from inside you. You lean closer to Andrew and bring both hands up and cup his face. You absorb every last detail before you. The soft, gentle expression he wears on his blissed out face. His long, fluttering lashes that tickle his face. And the splattered, golden brown freckles that create constalations on his face. The same freckles that you'd spent so much time thinking and dreaming off, finally infront of you. It feels like a gift to be this close to them, to be able to count each one.
Andrew's eyes flutter open and his hazel eyes look at your own. His head shakes in your hand. You feel your heart twang.
"I'm sorry. M'so sorry."
"Why Andrew? You have nothing to be sorry for."
"I fucked up. I hurt you. You don't deserve me." He tries to pull his face away but you grip it between you hands and force him to look back at you.
"I pushed you away and ignored you. I was scared. I was just scared."
"Scared of what?"
"That you'd leave me."
"Andrew I would never."
"And then I fucked it all up. I- I I watched you shower."
"What? It was you."
"I"m sorry."
"Pope, its o-"
"I deleted your app because I didn't want you getting hurt."
"Pope. I don't mind-"
"No, no. I tried to stop you doing what you wanted. I couldn't tell you how I felt. I stole your bikini." His voice trails off at the last confession, his eyes trailing to the discarded bikini beside him.
"Andrew! You think I'd be here if I hated you?" He snaps to attention. You can't help the small laugh that falls out your lips. This whole situation is so absurd. He looks at you, confused.
"I forgive you. I'll forgive you a hundred times. If it means I can have you. If it means I can have you like this."
Andrew's eyes flicker across the room, you relax your grip on his face, allowing him to process. His brows furrow, he looks back up at you.
"So you don't hate me?"
"No Andrew, I don't hate you." You reach with your thumb and stroke the crease out of his brow.
"Do you hate me?"
Andrew brings one hand up, tentivaley he brushes a couple of fingers through your hair.
"Not at all."
You seal his words with a kiss and you finally get to feel his lips on yours. Theyre soft, wet and generously warm.
