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lucozade⠀⋆⠀sidney croby.

⋆⠀author's note & warnings: typically, sidney can't be described as being a jealous person. but typically doesn't mean never. smut (you/your), language, pda, oral (f. receiving), fingering, choking, mirror sex, mild restraining. if brad marchand hates seafood and i didn't know, please cut me some slack, i beg.

read more for #87.

Sunset over the lake drew their small group of four out onto the patio overlooking the water. Nate was mid-sentence, gesturing with a cold beer in hand toward the distant tree line, but Sidney’s attention had drifted. He leaned back in one of his heavy cedar Adirondack chairs, his posture relaxed, though his gaze had locked onto a scene some twenty feet away. You were standing by the railing, your frame leaning inward as you spoke with Marchy. You were laughing. It wasn’t your usual polite, reserved chuckle, but a genuine, animated laugh that made your shoulders shake and your eyes crinkle.

Sidney shifted, the wood of the chair creaking under him. He knew you leaned closer to being an introvert than not. You were even-toned about most things, never got too loud, and generally kept your guard up in social settings until you had a good feel of the room. Seeing you so animated, your hands moving in small, excited arcs as you spoke to Brad, brought a sharp, unexpected prick of emotion to his chest.

“You’re staring, Sid,” Nate smiled, following his friend’s line of sight all the way to his girlfriend.

Sidney didn’t look away despite Nate’s catching on. His gaze traced the line of your jaw as you tilted your head back, your laughter ringing out over the quiet evening. He knew Brad was just a chatterbox, one of those people who could drive a riveting conversation with a brick wall, but there was something about the way you were leaning into the space between the two of you that made Sidney’s jaw tighten. Now, normally, he wasn’t prone to insecurity. But the sight of you so unguarded with someone else felt weird.

His lips pursed together, begrudgingly letting his eyes track back to Nate’s face. He lifted the beer in his hand up to his lips, taking a slow sip, pausing before responding to his friend. “Did you hear that laugh just now? What’re they talking about, do you think?”

Nate let out a soft huff of a laugh, shaking his head. “No clue, buddy. Probably just talking about a little bit of everything if I had to guess. You know how Brad is.”

As his eyes drifted back to you, he could see you pointing out toward the water, your expression bright and curious. You looked radiant in the dimming amber light, your brown skin much warmer under the sunset. With a soft exhale through his nose, Sidney tried to shake off the tension. He didn’t need to be distrustful. There was no reason to feel that way.

The conversation on the patio eventually tapered off, the air growing cool as the stars began to dot the navy blue sky. You and Brad eventually drifted back toward the group, integrating into conversation with Sidney and Nate. You forwent topping up your drink and beelined for Sid instead. Without a word, you maneuvered yourself into his space, shifting your weight until you settled firmly onto his lap. You draped one arm around his neck, your fingers grazing the nape of his hair, and leaned your head against his shoulder.

Sidney’s arm instinctively wound around your waist, pulling you flush against him. He was still wound tight, his muscles both tense and solid beneath you. You felt the tension radiating off him in contrast to the humming quiet of the lazy Nova Scotian evening a hundred meters from the lake. You shifted your weight, feeling the hard line of his thighs beneath you, and turned your head to catch his eye. His hazel eyes were darkly focused, roaming over your lips and trailing back up to your eyes.

You tested the waters, lifting your head and leaning in for a brief kiss he happily gave, but as you pulled back, you kept your voice light, almost playful. “You’re awfully quiet over here, babe,” you murmured, the thumb of your free hand tracing the edge of his jaw. “Did you and Nate have a very serious conversation about the weather while I was gone?”

Sidney’s response was a low, noncommittal hum that vibrated through his chest and into your own. He didn’t pull away, but his grip on your waist tightened, his fingers digging slightly into the soft curve of your hip. It was a possessive gesture, one that spoke far more than his reserved expression ever could. He leaned his head back against the cedar wood of the chair, his gaze drifting for a fleeting second toward where Brad was now chatting with Nate, before returning back to your with a thick swallow of his saliva.

“Just enjoying the view of the water,” he hummed noncommittally. The words were smooth, but an edge was there: a subtle, gravelly tension that signaled his mood hadn’t quite shifted from the territorial spark that had ignited sometime in the last hour or so.

Your lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. You knew that particular frequency of his voice, the one that resided heavily in the back of his throat. You had spent enough time with Sidney to recognize the subtle shifts in his demeanor and the way his silence could become a simmering pressure. The realization that he was actually jealous over something you couldn’t quite point out was an adorable irony that made you smile. You didn’t call him out on it, choosing instead to savor the friction of his mood, leaning in to press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, and pulling back to run your thumb over the salt and pepper hairs of his neatly trimmed beard.

The rest of the evening blurred into a sequence of easygoing conversations and the distant sound of the lake lapping against the dock. Every time you moved, to fetch a snack or bid the other guests a goodnight, Sidney remained anchored to your side. His hand stayed firmly planted on the small of your back or curved around your waist, his touch constant. So by the time the night had wound down and the pleasant buzz from your drinks had dissipated, Sidney led you through the house and into the master bedroom, switching off the lights along your path.

Sidney stalked off to the walk-in closet, swapping his shoes for the slippers he kept for the lake house, but his movements were clipped, lacking their usual fluid grace. The room was bathed in the silver glow of a waning moon filtering through the sheer curtains, casting long shadows across the wood floors.

“So,” you started, testing the waters as you began to unbutton your jean shorts, “Brad was telling me that the local seafood market has the best scallops in the province. He seemed really passionate about me trying them at some point before the end of the month.”

You watched Sidney freeze for a split second, his back still turned to you as he stepped out of the closet. He didn’t say anything, but the muscle in his jaw jumped, a sharp tick that betrayed his seemingly calm outward composure. He turned slowly, his hazel eyes darkening in the moonlight, tracking the way your fingers pushed your shorts down your thighs then moved to the white linen button-up you wore.

“Yeah?” he asked. He didn’t move toward you, but leaned against the doorframe of the closet, his arms crossing over his broad chest. The posture was defensive, yet the way his gaze locked onto you was predatory. “Is that right?”

You let the linen shirt slide off your shoulders, the fabric pooling at your feet. You watched his throat bob as he swallowed, his eyes widening slightly as they traveled over you. you slinked over to him and stopped just inches from his chest.

“He was just being friendly,” you murmured. You reached up, your palms sliding over the firm muscles of his biceps, feeling the way his arms were locked tight. “But he did seem very interested in what I had playing over the speaker in the kitchen.”

Sidney, evidently unamused with the details of the conversation he’d witnessed, let his hands find your waist though he didn’t pull you any closer than you moved yourself. He looked down at you, his gaze simmering, the silence between you thick with an anticipation that made the hairs on your arms stand up. He didn’t want to talk about Brad’s opinions on seafood or his interest in your music tastes. He wanted to erase the image of another man making you laugh like that.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he rasped, his voice dropping a level.

You laughed softly, lifting your arms around his neck. “You’re jealous.”

He quirked his lip then rolled his eyes, finally yanking you closer so there wasn’t a single single single single millimeter of air between you. “Sweetheart…”

“You’re so, so jealous,” you teased. You tilted your head back, your eyes dancing with a playful glint, deliberately prolonging the moment of his frustration.

“Can you blame me?” he asked gruffly.

“A little bit. It’s just Brad.” You lips split into a smile, your fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

Sidney lifted a hand to the back of your neck, tilting your head back until you were positioned perfectly to slot his lips against yours. The kiss was messy, head spinning, and devoid of the practiced gentleness you had come to experience most often from him. He backed you up toward the bed, the friction of your bodies creating a heat that defied the cool Nova Scotian night. As you hit the mattress, the impact was blunt, and Sidney shifted his weight instantly, pinning you beneath the heavy, solid mass of his frame. He paused for a heartbeat, his chest heaving, eyes roaming your face and your exposed body. The reserved, principled man who had calmly discussed the lake’s scenery with Nate was gone, replaced by a version of him that only you saw in this context.

He kissed down the length of your body, fingers hooking in your underwear to run the fabric down your thighs and away from your body. Your lower half was left bare to his view as he peeled your legs apart to reveal your center just beginning to grow wet for him. His hands squeezed at the plush curve of your hips. There was a frantic edge to his movements, a need to anchor himself to you and claim every inch of you as his own, as if the mere memory of you laughing with another man had created a void he had to fill with this moment of physicality.

Sidney didn’t waste time with a slow build. He shifted and positioned himself between your thighs, lowering his face until he was eye-level with your pussy. He tested the waters with a long introductory swipe of his tongue that made your back arch ever so slightly off the mattress. He was insistent in his work, his breath hot against your sensitive skin, eating away at you until you were sobbing his name into the quiet of the room. He wanted you focused on nothing but him, erasing the evening’s distractions.

Your thighs clenched around his head intermittently, your fingers digging into his dark curls as you chased a peak that felt imminent. Just as the first wave of release began to ripple through you, Sidney replaced his mouth with his hands, slipping two fingers into you, and admiring the look on your face as your head lolled back against the sheets.

The sound that escaped you was more wheeze than whimper as your hands fell to the bed. “God… Sid,” you gasped, your voice thin and fractured. Your arousal squelched under his fingers, the friction sending uneven flutters through your nervous system. Sidney didn’t stop, his gaze fixed on the way your brown skin glittered with sweat under the moonlight. He watched you unravel with his jaw set, his expression still reflecting that territorial hunger than landed you in this position in the first place. The jealousy that had simmered on the patio hadn’t vanished, it had transformed into a fuel that drove his urgency.

It was unlike him to be so silent when you were so close to the edge. Usually, Sidney was a rolling murmur of praise and soft encouragements, but tonight he was stormily focused with heavy breathing and even intensity.

He used his free hand to cup your face in his hands, quietly coaxing you to look at him as your orgasm overcame you. Your eyes rolled in your head every few seconds, your chest heaving as you attempted to breathe through your nose. When he reached for the sides of your throat, testing the touch with a squeeze, your vigorous nod gave him the go-ahead to hold you there. He didn’t cut off your air, but the pressure was a firm, possessive reminder of who knew you best, anchoring you to the bed and to him.

He waited for your peak to pass and for your eyes to flutter open. When they did, the hazy, post-orgasmic glow clung to your features. His head dipped to kiss you in that moment, that earlier rough energy supplanted with a sweeter longing, though his grip on your throat didn’t loosen immediately. A large palm roamed over your thigh, pulling it high on his hip.

“Still thinking about those scallops?” he murmured against your neck, deciding that simmer had subsided enough for him to poke fun at the situation.

You let out a breathy, tired laugh, your hands pushing him away from you by his chest. “You can be such an ass,” you whispered, though you were already throwing your leg over him to straddle his hips, your heart fluttering when you felt his hands settle on the crease where your hips folded into your thighs. “I’m pretty sure the scallops are out of the question now. I’m way too exhausted to go to a market.”

Sidney let out a low chuckle, his pupils blown wide as he looked up at you. The territorial edge hadn’t entirely vanished, but it had evolved into something more satisfied, a quiet victory written in the slump of his shoulders and the softness of his gaze. He reached up, his large hands spanning the width of your waist, pulling you down so your chest brushed against his.

“Good,” he murmured, his voice still gravelly and thick. “Because the only place you’re going for the rest of the night is right here.”

You hummed at that, hooking your index finger in the thin gold chain resting against his sternum and peeking out from the collar of his t-shirt. “Just kiss me, you’re such a nightmare to deal with sometimes.”

Sidney sat up fully and laughed into the kiss, biting back, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“But you do,” you insisted, lifting his shirt over his head and tossing it to the side. “You were pouting. I could practically feel the mood shifting from across the patio.”

Sidney’s laugh was a low rumble in his chest, his arms sliding from your waist to the small of your back, pulling you even closer to his chest. He kissed along your shoulder while you played with his hair, the playful tension of the last hour finally settling into a warm, heavy contentment. He didn’t want to admit to the pouting, but the way he held you, as if you might simply float away if he loosened his grip, was admission enough. He loved the way you saw through him, the way you could dissect his emotions with a single look and the lightness of acceptance.

“I don’t pout,” he argued.

“You absolutely do,” you countered, your voice honeyed and smug. You shifted your weight, leaning your forehead against his, your eyes locking onto his hazel ones. “You have this way of narrowing your eyes and tightening your jaw. I won’t tell anyone. Your secret is safe with me.”

Sidney let out a soft, defeated huff of a laugh before kissing you once again. The kiss was slower now, your breathing syncing up upon contact. In the blink of an eye, you had undressed his lower half, then settled back into his lap with your back to his chest, your bodies angled to face the corner mirror reflecting the edge of the bed where you sat. He guided his length into you, drawing a whispery moan from your lips. His hands rested on your waist, groaning as you clenched around him, adjusting to feeling of him.

In the mirror, he could watch as he gripped your hips, his large hands nearly meeting around the curve of your waist, guiding you through a slow, grinding pace that made your head fall back onto his shoulder. He watched your lips part to let out jagged, breathless sounds. After a while, he let you control the pace once your walls eased around him, your palms pressing against his knees for leverage as you arched your spine.

“So pretty…” he muttered breathlessly, taking in the sight of your body as you bounced against him, your skin a rich, deep contrast to the pale, silver moonlight leaking through the curtains. He tightened his hold on your waist, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips, effectively steering you into a rhythm that was less about savoring the intimacy and more about curing that visceral need. Every time you gasped his name, he felt a surge of pride, a quiet triumph in the knowledge that he was the only one who could make you sound like this—laughter aside.

He shifted his grip, one hand sliding up to splay across your stomach, pulling you back against him once more, while the other remained locked on your hip, anchoring you to him as he drove the rhythm, slamming you against his thighs with a heavy, consistent thud. The sound of your bodies colliding echoed in the quiet room, a counterpoint to the soft rustle of the curtains in the breeze. Your breath was coming in short, sharp hitches, your fingers digging into his quadriceps as you tried to maintain your balance. You felt the sheer scale of him, the way he seemed to dwarf you even as you were entwined, his broad shoulders framing you perfectly in the mirror’s reflection.

As the tension coiled tighter in your muscles, you leaned back, your head resting in the crook of his neck. You could feel the heat of his skin, the frantic beat of his heart against your shoulder blades, and the way his breathing had become a series of focused grunts. Neither of you could speak beyond hissed affirmations and fragmented pleas, the physical dialogue far more honest than any conversation either of you had on the patio earlier in the night.

The mirror reflected a blur of motion and moonlight, the image of you skin against his creating a visual harmony that just felt right for the two of you. Just as you felt the familiar, electric pull of another peak, Sidney used one arm, hooking it around to pin both of yours behind your back. The position deepened the arch in your spine, pushing your chest forward and leaving you entirely vulnerable to the friction of his body. You cried out at that, curses dissolving into moans that spurred his next move to instruct you to, “Cum for me.”

The command shattered the last of your composure. Your body buckled, your internal muscles clamping down on him in a series of rhythmic pulses that dragged a guttural groan from deep within Sidney’s throat. The sensation of your tight, pulsating walls combined with the sight of you pinned against him in the mirror pushed him over the edge.

He thrusted into you one last time, a heavy, shuddering release that left him grinding him teeth before all his muscles relaxed, taking him to euphoria. Sidney buried his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there as he let out a long, ragged exhale. He didn’t let go of your wrists right away, keeping you anchored to him for several heartbeats as you both drifted back down to earth, your hearts hammering in a frantic cadence in your chests.

Sidney slowly released your wrists, his touch transitioning from a firm grip to a lingering caress as he slid his hands down your arms. He nosed along your shoulder, smelling the combined scent of him on your skin. The silence was warm, filled by the synchronized rhythm of your recovery. You felt the sudden weight of you limbs, your muscles turning to liquid as you melted back against him. You let out a long, shaky sigh, your head still lolling against his shoulder, feeling the slow, steady thrum of his heart calming beneath you.

With a low grunt of effort, Sidney shifted his weight, carefully extracting himself and guiding you down onto the pillows. He didn’t move far, immediately curling his large frame around you, pulling you into the crook of his arm so you were tucked securely against his side. One of his hands rested on the curve of your hip, his fingers idly tracing the skin there in a slow loop. He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering against your hair.

“I hope you got that out of your system,” you said through a sleepy, contented haze, your voice barely louder than a whisper. You shifted slightly, smiling to yourself at the thought of your boyfriend rolling his eyes, ready to argue in his own defense.

But he didn’t answer, instead choosing to tighten his hold on you. He rested his chin on the crown of your head, his hazel eyes staring out at the moonlight peeking through the curtains over the window to your left.

“Done terrorizing me? Can I say that I love you now?” he murmured, his voice returning to that low, resonant hum that usually signaled he was finally at peace.

You let out a soft, genuine laugh, the sound muffled where you nuzzled into his bicep. You shifted, turning in the circle of his arms to look up at him. The moonlight carved the sharp lines of his jaw and the salt-and-pepper dusting of his beard, making him look like a statue sculpted from granite.

You reached up, your fingertips tracing down the bridge of his nose and up the slight crease between his brows. “I’m done. You can say it now.” To emphasize your point, you kissed over his chin, jaw, and bottom lip, trying not to laugh at his grumbling.

“I love you. It makes me a little crazy in the head how much I love you,” he said softly, the words vibrating against your skin as he pulled you flush against his chest. He tucked your head under his chin, his large hand splaying across the small of your back, grounding you in his warmth.

You sighed, your body feeling heavy and wonderfully spent. You let your eyes drift shut, listening to the rhythmic thrum of his heart, which was finally slowing to a resting pace. “I love you too, Sidney,” you whispered.

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