AN: Slight spoilers for the end of the series. Those who know... know.
Summary: After the events of Tokyo John Sugar returns to the only true place on this earth he considers home.
The night that John returns from Tokyo he doesn’t head back to the room he keeps at the Del Corazon. Instead, he takes a cab to a beach house in Malibu, nestled amongst millions of dollars’ worth of properties that overlook the shore.
It’s a tiny little thing, blink and you might miss it amidst the Goliaths that surround it. Small as it may be, it’s a thorn in the side of the many neighbours who wish to buy the land to expand their own properties. You’d never sell of course. The house has been in your family for at least three generations, build by your carpenter grandfather in 60s when the prices were low and the place was a haven for creatives.
He'd developed it for your grandmother, an abstract artist with a patent for warm colours and erratic shapes. Her paintings are a myriad of thoughts, each one capturing the complexities of the human condition in its own unique way. Sometimes in the form of daisy chains streaked across a canvas in hues of green, grey and yellow, others in sunsets that look so beautiful, so radiant that John feels like he’s looking at the threads of fate woven within the very depths of the paint.
He tuts as he steps onto the wooden porch, noting the ceramic frog glaring up at him. Frogger is where you hide the spare key, the one he’s told you time and time again you need to store elsewhere. He picks up the offending creature, placing it under his arm before he removes the key, using it to open the sage green door.
You’d repainted it recently to piss off the rest of the neighbourhood, adding a brass octopus knocker that to compliment the colour.
Everything out here is white, glaring, stark, clinical.
Your home is the opposite. Warm, with distressed cream slats that remind him that this place has a story, a history.
He wipes his feet on the coarse welcome mat before he sets Frogger down on the sideboard. He knows it’ll end up back on the porch the next time he departs, the key returned to the cavity of its belly. It’s the unfortunate compromise he makes for not having it on his keyring. An extra key would alert Ruby’s attention and he doesn’t want that; he doesn’t want you on her radar.
His footsteps echo on the teak wood flooring, pausing briefly on the jute rug before he heads towards the living room. He lingers in the doorway, his eyes coming to rest on the woman lying on her stomach amidst a navy-blue velvet couch, knees bent, ankles crossed as she flicks through the Paul Auster book she’s reading.
You’re clad in black tailored shorts revealing legs that he’d spend entire lifetimes between if you’d let him and a white tank top that he’s taken off you many a time. Your black blazer has been tossed over the matching armchair, the matching flats kicked underneath it. The empty holster where your daddy’s SIG usually resides hangs off the top of the bookshelf situated next to the patio doors that open onto weather worn decking. A sea breeze floods his senses, the tang of salt and water on his tongue.
This place it’s more of a home to him, than anywhere else in this world and he knows that’s because of you.
“How’s My Favourite Martian?” You ask, inclining your head towards him.
The profile of your face, it’s the kind of thing that men write songs about. A woman so beautiful it makes their heart stutter in their chest, with lips that kiss like a dream, and eyes you could spend hours getting lost in.
“All the better for seeing my favourite femme fatale.” He says pushing off the doorframe before he steps into the room.
You place the book you’re reading, The New York Trilogy, on the epoxy ocean wave coffee table as he slips out of his jacket, revealing black suspenders you like to tease from time to time. He hooks his finger in his tie loosening it, popping the two buttons of his collar as you twist onto your back, your loose hair fanning across the cushions.
You look like an angel, one sent from heaven if he believed in such a thing.
“You’ve been sleuthing today.” He observes, tipping his dark head towards the holster as he unfastens the silver cufflinks of his white sleeves, rolling them up to his elbows. “Anything you want to talk about?”
“That depends.” You remark, his dark eyes pinning you in place as he kneels on the couch, looking down at you. “Do you want to talk about Tokyo?”
“No.” He says resolutely, his warm palms gliding up your bare thighs parting them so he can take his place between them. His hips fit snuggly against yours, the fabric of his shirt creasing as his weight settles over you. His lips ghost up the curve of your throat, the illusion of a kiss created by his heated breath. “I’d rather skip to the love scene.”
“I bet you would.” You murmur, your fingers raking through his dark, silky hair as his teeth graze that sweet spot just underneath your ear lobe. You arch against him and he grunts, rolling his hips, his cock grinding against your core. “You know this is the part in your noir movies where the screen fades to black.”
“But this isn’t a movie.” He reminds you, his thumb tracing over the apple of your cheek as he guides your eager mouth towards his.
His gaze captures yours, dark eyes filled with a thousand stars that seem to thrum and pulse in the depths of his universe. The shade starts to lighten, sapphire hues bleeding from the edges of his iris until they shine like polished Arizona turquoise.
“There you are.” You smile against his lips as you guide the suspenders down along his biceps. “I’ve missed the real you, Sugar.”
Sweetly seductive sugar apple! By all measures I should hate this fruit like soursop because it’s also very sweet and creamy, but there’s just something about sugar apples that is so uniquely delicious, I could never find hate in my heart for them 💗
Part of me sorta love the wild frizz, it gives her personality, lol.
But you can hardly even see her behind her hair! I’m going to have to get a new curling iron to take her hair down. I’ll be able to style her properly then.
The new background feels like cheating on this one.
How are you all liking the new background so far? I think the ponies sometimes kind of disappear into it, but also that it's more in the spirit/feel of MLP.
