"Keep It Quiet"
Dividers by @bernardsbendystraws
Pt.1 Pt.2
Warnings: SMUT (18+), secret relationship, sneaking around, sexual tension, fingering, unprotected sex, praise kink (“good girl”), implied creampie, strong language,
The next morning is awkward, but only for you.
You can barely look at Chris.
It’s not that you regret it. God, no. Last night was… perfect. Quiet and breathless and heart-pounding. The way he whispered your name like it was a secret, the way his fingers moved like he knew you — really knew you — and the way he looked at you afterward, still close, still there.
But now it’s morning. And your brother is shuffling around the kitchen in his hoodie and socks, pouring cereal like nothing happened, and you feel like you’re wearing a giant neon sign above your head that says: I Let Chris Sturniolo Touch Me Last Night.
Chris doesn’t make it any easier.
He’s relaxed — too relaxed. Sitting at the counter with his hair still wet from the shower, legs spread, hoodie unzipped just enough to show that stupid tattoo on his chest, the one you only noticed last night because your hands were on it.
“Sleep okay?” he asks you, voice rough and amused.
You nearly choke on your orange juice.
Nick glances over. “You good?”
You nod quickly. “Yeah. Just… went down the wrong pipe.”
Chris smirks behind his coffee mug.
He doesn’t look tired. If anything, he looks smug. As if he knows you kept rewinding the moment over and over in your head last night, barely sleeping a wink because every time you closed your eyes, it felt like his hands were still on your hips.
You catch him looking again later — when you’re pulling your sweatshirt over your head, when you lean over the counter to grab something from the fridge, when you laugh at something Matt says.
And he looks at you like he’s remembering all the same things.
⸻
The cabin’s hot tub is in the backyard, tucked behind a patch of pine trees and a half-broken wooden fence. It’s already bubbling by the time you all head outside in the late afternoon, wrapped in towels and hoodies and laughter.
You’re in your favorite swimsuit — pale blue, a little lower cut than you usually wear, tied at the back of your neck. You almost didn’t bring it. But when you packed it the other day, some part of you knew.
You didn’t expect to feel so watched.
Chris freezes the second you step outside.
You catch it — just for a second — that flicker of tension in his jaw, the way his eyes sweep over your body like he’s struggling not to react. He looks away quickly, rubbing the back of his neck, jaw clenched tight.
Your brother doesn’t notice. He’s too busy yelling something at Nick about bringing out drinks.
But Chris… Chris notices everything.
“You trying to kill me? Again.” he mutters when you pass him, voice low and sharp with heat.
You glance at him innocently. “What?”
He huffs out a laugh — but it’s not funny. It’s frustrated. He watches you get into the hot tub like it’s the worst kind of torture, like every inch of water between you is a cruel joke.
You sink into the warm bubbles with a grin, eyes fluttering closed.
⸻
Everyone’s loud at first. The triplets are cracking jokes, your brother’s telling some story from high school, and you’re doing your best to act normal. But then Nick and Matt get out to go start dinner. Your brother follows a few minutes later to grab his phone.
Suddenly, it’s just you and Chris.
You feel it immediately — the shift. The heat that has nothing to do with the water. He’s still across from you, legs stretched out, arms resting behind him, hair dripping wet.
“Stop looking at me like that,” you say quietly.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re gonna do something.”
Chris laughs under his breath. “Sweetheart, if I was gonna do something, you wouldn’t be able to look me in the eye tomorrow.”
You blink.
Then blink again.
“Jesus,” you mutter, trying to sink deeper into the water.
He smirks. “Just being honest.”
“Too honest.”
“I’m only like this because of you,” he says, voice quieter now. “You walking around in that swimsuit? With that little look on your face like you don’t know what you’re doing to me?”
You gape. “I— I’m not doing anything—”
“Exactly,” he murmurs, leaning forward slightly. “You’re not even trying. That’s the worst part.”
Your legs bump his under the water. His knees part slightly. You think you might combust on the spot.
“Chris…”
“You were so good last night,” he says, voice nearly a whisper now. “So fucking sweet. But I’m warning you now — if you keep looking at me like that, I’m not gonna make it another night pretending we’re just sleeping.”
Your breath catches.
“Your brother—”
“Isn’t here right now.”
The bubbles pop and hiss between you. You swear the steam is rising faster.
“I could come over there,” Chris says, “right now. Slide you into my lap. Kiss that soft little spot under your ear that made you whimper last night.”
You feel your whole body tense. Heat floods to your core.
“Would you let me?” he asks.
You nod before your brain catches up.
But it’s too late — your brother’s voice cuts through the trees, and just like that, Chris is leaning back again like nothing happened, letting the hot water hide every ounce of tension between you.
You don’t look at each other for the rest of the time outside. But you feel it — the promise of what’s coming.
⸻
That night, you lie in bed facing the wall, trying to calm your breathing.
Chris hasn’t said anything since you came back from the hot tub. Your brother gave him a weird look during dinner, and Chris stayed quiet most of the night. You wondered if maybe he’d changed his mind. Regretted things.
But then you hear it — the soft creak of his bed. The sound of the floorboard groaning as he steps over.
And then he’s right there, crouched beside you, whispering.
“Are you awake?”
You nod without turning over.
Chris gently tugs the covers back. You feel the mattress dip as he slides in behind you, warm and quiet.
“You know what I keep thinking about?” he murmurs against your neck. “The way you looked in that swimsuit.”
You squirm.
His hand settles on your hip, firm but slow.
“You wanna be quiet for me, sweetheart?”
Your breath catches. “Y-Yeah.”
“Good girl.”
You swear you nearly moan just from that.
He nudges your legs apart, his hand traveling down slowly under the covers, fingers grazing over your thighs.
“You’ve been thinking about this all day,” he whispers, kissing behind your ear. “Haven’t you?”
You nod helplessly.
“Bet you’re soaked already. Let’s find out.”
And then he does.
You bite your lip, burying your face in the pillow, doing everything you can not to make a sound while Chris touches you like he owns you — slow at first, teasing, dragging his fingers down your folds with maddening patience. And when he finally slips one inside, you grip the sheets hard, trying not to cry out.
“You’re so fucking tight,” he groans softly. “You gonna let me in, baby? Gonna be good for me again?”
You nod, barely breathing. “Please…”
He wastes no time.
He moves over you, slow and careful at first, one hand tangled with yours, the other covering your mouth as he slides inside. You gasp against his palm — overwhelmed, breathless, aching.
“That’s it,” he whispers. “Take it. Just like that.”
He starts to move.
You don’t know how you’re staying quiet. His hips roll into yours, steady and deep, each stroke making the mattress creak just a little too loud. You bury your face in his shoulder, trembling.
“Fuck,” he groans in your ear. “You feel so good — so sweet, so fucking wet for me—”
Your nails dig into his back. He covers your mouth again just in time for you to break — silent and shaking, your whole body pulsing around him. He keeps going, pushing you through it, cursing under his breath.
“I’m gonna cum,” he pants. “Where do you want it?”
“Inside,” you whisper, reckless, brain-fogged. “Please, Chris—”
He lets out a low, broken moan and buries himself to the hilt.
You feel it — warm and dizzying and too much. And still, he holds you through it, hands gentle now, face buried in your neck.
When it’s over, neither of you move for a long time.
He finally pulls out with a hiss, carefully reaching for something to clean you both up. You’re still shaking.
Chris tucks you against him, wrapping the blanket around your shoulders.
“I’m gonna lose my fucking mind if we keep doing this,” he mutters against your hair.
“Then don’t stop.”
He chuckles. “Yeah?”
You nod sleepily. “I like you, Chris.”
He’s quiet for a second.
Then: “I like you too, sweetheart.”
⸻Last part!
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